COLOSSUS 2025 NIGHT ONE

A beach. Turquoise water. Tiki hut. A variety of PRIME roster members soak up the sun. Lounge chairs. Volleyball. Drinks with umbrellas in them. The works.

“Summer mood, hot sand under my feet,

Cold beer, cheap wine, yeah, that’s all that we need.”

Cecilworth Farthington sits, ankles crossed. Shades on, sipping from a coconut, flipping through his phone.

“We got the moves, we got the moves,

and everybody’s like, “Oh, FUCK YEAH! LET’S DO IT AGAAIINN!!”

Quite suddenly, he lifts his shades to his forehead, spotting Chandler Tsonda, looking quite the specimen in his pink swim trunks from across the rows of lounge chairs, pointing to the Universal Champion and running toward him.

“WE GOT THE MOVES! WE GOT THE MOVES!

AND EVERYBODY’S LIKE ‘YESTERDAY WE DRANK TOO MUCH, LET’S DO IT AGAAIINN!”

Cecilworth flails and falls out of his chair onto the sand, his coconut flying into the air as he scrambles to his feet to escape while the Viet Viper tries to weave through the crowd.

“WE GOT THE GROOVE! WE GOT THE GROOOVE!

SO EVERYBODY PUT YOUR HANDS STRAIGHT UP! 

TONIGHT IS THE NIIIGHTT!”

The Anglo Luchador looks away after serving a volleyball over the net, curious about the commotion. Much to his surprise when the ball comes flying back, smacking him in the forehead. He snaps his masked-gaze across the court to see the culprit, Kenny Freeman. They shake a fist before running off to join the party.

“We are young! We are free!

Sippin’ on booze on a sunny beach!

We’re alive! We believe!

That summertime memories, will never fade aw-ay!”

Steve Lemieux stands in his khakis behind his Roast Beast Beach Cart, fixing a sandwich for Blaze Claymore. As TAL And Kenny run by, they kick up quite a bit of sand, and most of it flies directly into Mr. Beefst’s face. He howls and flails, the fine sandwich he was preparing flying into the air, and more specifically into Blaze’s face and chest. Blaze falls back to the sand in dramatic fashion.

“We’re living the good life, high life,

everybody wants that hot vibe!”

RIA sits her lounge chair, lookin’ fine in her pink and blue themed bathing suit with matching shades. She sips a tropical drink, but her eyes intently over the top of them.

Sitting across the way, Anna Daniels, in her own Vice City themed swim attire, staring back over her shades much the same.

RIA stares.

Anna stares.

RIA sips.

Anna sips.

Cecilworth sprints through.

Chandler follows.

RIA looks confused.

Anna does not.

The jump from their chairs and give chase anyway, because curiosity.

“We wanna feel it just all over and over again,.

More. Just give me more ’cause we’re addicted to the 

groove OH YEAH! 

WE DO IT AGAIIIINNN!!!”

Wade Elliott, looking like a silver fox in his beach-chic and mai tai in hand, and Lindsay Troy, looking like a god-damn tropical temptress, are interrupted as Cecilworth dives between them over the Tiki Bar to take cover. The startled Bad Dog nearly falls out of his stool as Tsonda, followed by Kenny, TAL, RIA, and Anna coming rushing in. Lindsay leaps from her stool. Seeing that his drink had flown from its glass, Wade throws his shades and stands up, ready to play Dad/defense.

“WE GOT THE MOVES! WE GOT THE MOVES!

AND EVERYBODY’S LIKE ‘YESTERDAY WE DRANK TOO MUCH, LET’S DO IT AGAAIINN!’”

Fred Dick, the bartender of this Tiki Hut, can do nothing as the collective crashes into his bar space. He throws up his arms as he’s covered in the bodies, sending bottles and tiki-themed bar-ware flying.

“WE GOT THE GROOVE! WE GOT THE GROOOVE!

SO EVERYBODY PUT YOUR HANDS STRAIGHT UP! 

TONIGHT IS THE NIIIGHTT!”

From the other side of the Tiki Bar, Hayes Hanlon, Joe Fontaine, and FLAMBERGE snap to attention from their stools, all simultaneously tilting their sunglasses down to witness the chaos that just dove into their Tiki-space. They stand simultaneously. All three with beach-button-ups. No buttons are buttoned.

“We are young! We are free!

Sippin’ on booze on a sunny beach!

We’re alive! We believe!

That summertime memories, will never fade aw-ay!”

The three Glue-migos walk in, doing their best to toss and sort through the mess of beachy bodies to help Cecilworth escape.

“Will never fade aw-ay!”

The Financier army crawls from the sandy floor from under the pile, scrambling and managing to run off away from the Tiki-madness. RIA slaps FLAMBERGE across the face. Hayes tries to keep Anna at arms length while she tries to kick his head. Wade has Kenny and TAL in a double headlock.

“We don’t need no club, all we need is the sun!

Yeah, we will rave like hell ‘til the weekend is done!”

Rose pumps a fist as her bocce ball lands right up against the pallino. The pallino is the small ball that you throw when you start a bocce ball match. The goal is to throw the larger balls and get them as close to the pallino as possible. There’s a lot of offense and defense to play in bocce ball, but it all center around the pallino.

Matt Ward is pissed that Rose just beat him in bocce ball.

The commotion at the Tiki Bar steals their attention, though, and the two jog through the sand to see what the fuck is up.

“We got the moves, we got the moves,

And everybody put your hands straight up!

TONIGHT IS THE NIIIGHT!!

WE SAY!”

“Dop-död-död-dop! dop-död-död-dop!

Dop-död-död-dop! dop-död-död-dop!

Dop-död-död-dop! dop-död-död-dop!

Dop-död-död-dop! dop-död-död-dop!

Dop-död-död-dop! dop-död-död!”

Rob Williams catches a frisbee from Daytona Diamonds at the edge of the shore, unaware of the pile-up at the Tiki Bar. Daytona’s diamond-studded bathing suit is…very bright. Rob goes to toss the frisbee back, until he sees Cecilworth running toward them with Tsonda close behind.

“WE GOT THE MOVES!

 WE GOT THE MOVES!

AND EVERYBODY’S LIKE ‘YESTERDAY WE DRANK TOO MUCH, LET’S DO IT AGAIN!’”

Before Rob can react, a speedboat slams into the shore between himself and Daytona. Hessian and Tony Gamble hold on for dear life as their boat slides onto the sand.

The boat comes to a stop, squishing a very elaborate sand castle in the shape of the Kremlin.

Ivan Stanislav is very upset.

The Russian Bear stands simultaneously with the Murder Show.

Both are wearing speedos.

It’s dope.

“WE GOT THE GROOVE! WE GOT THE GROOOVE!

SO EVERYBODY PUT YOUR HANDS STRAIGHT UP! 

TONIGHT IS THE NIIIGHTT!”

Oh shit Max Kael just lit the Tiki Bar on fire.

“EVERYBODY! HANDS UP!

WE DON’T NEED A DAMN CLUB!

GET DOWN ‘CAUSE WE’RE GONNA PARTY LIKE HELLL!”

Jared Sykes and Nate Colton sit in their Lifeguard towers, zinc covering their noses. Booties looking bomb in their boy-short swim trunks. Nate wears his letterman jacket for some reason.

They shrug, and both retrieve those aluminum sun-things that help you tan, laying back to soak up the rays.

“AND-WE-WON’T-STOP-UNTIL-THE-SUN-UP-HITS-OUR-GLOWING-EYES-LIKE-

BOOM! BOOM!”

Kerry Kuroyama and Scott Hunter absolutely SHRED some waves, brah. Slashing against the water on their surfboards. One-upping each other. Getting sick with it.

They spot the commotion on the beach.

They don’t see the giant swell that Bryan Dawkins is absolutely THRASHING behind them.

They get smashed by the huge wave, sending their surfboards flying as they tumble underwater. The Former Flyin’ Hawaiian slashes on by.

“WE GONNA PUT THE TRACK  ON REPEEAAT!”

Slow motion.

Wade headlocking people.

Lindsay Troy turning from the fray to sip her cocktail.

Steve Lemieux clawing sand from his eyes.

The Tiki Bar fire is getting big. It’s concerning.

Fred Dick’s toupee is covered in sand and he’s upset about it.

“We are young, we are free.

Sippin’ on booze on a sunny beach.

We’re alive. We believe.

That summertime memories…”

….

“We are young! We are free!

Sippin’ on booze on a sunny beach!

We’re alive! We believe!

That summertime memories, will never fade aw-ay!”

Cecilworth has reached the palm trees at the edge of the beach, catching his breath.

He pulls his sunglasses off, and turns back to the chaos of the beach.

But standing amongst it all, is Chandler Tsonda.

They stare, as the camera zooms in.

“Will never fade aw-ay!”

It zooms in on Cecilworth’s right eye, just before the Colossus logo takes over, in a vivid teal and pink.

“Will never fade aw-ay!”

Hank enjoys a dip in the ocean, pinching his nose and dunking himself under the waves.

COLOSSUS.

2025.

https://prime-wrestling.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/12/Col25-N1-Video.mp4

Colossus, baby!

Where’s those signs?

There they are!

JUSTICE FOR MIGUEL
IS IT TOO LATE TO STICK RANDALL SCHWARTZ IN A SHARK CAGE?
I’M HERE FOR THE BEST ONE FALL I’LL EVER SEE
IT’S ONLY A SIBERIAN CAGE MATCH IF IT COMES FROM THE SIBERIAN REGION OF FRANCE, OTHERWISE IT’S A SPARKLING WARCHAMBER
PUT THE SKETTI OVER, WADE
CBD OR WE RIOT
WELCOME TO MEGATRON’S BUTTHOLE
YOU KNOW $20 WOULD’VE GONE A LONG WAY TOWARDS PAYING FOR A SHARK CAGE, I’M JUST SAYING
I JUST WANTED A FUNCTIONAL FAMILY UNIT AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY CAGE MATCH
I BOUGHT THE NEW WORLD TRASH T-SHIRT AT THE PRIMEPORIUM AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS SWEET NEW WORLD TRASH T-SHIRT
I BOUGHT THE NEW ANGLO LUCHADOR SHIRT AND I IMMEDIATELY WENT TO BED
ATL IS SHORT FOR ALL THESE LASAGNAS
RIANNA DANIELS IS MY HORSEPLAY NAME
HAPPY BIRTHDAY IVAN STANISLAV FROM 100% AMERICAN FAN!!!
THIS IS MY FIRST WRESTLING SHOW, WHY IS EVERYONE SO ANGRY AND DUMMY THICC?

Nick Stuart: Welcome to Colossus! Our flagship show promises to delight and entertain on Night 1, starting with a match between two of the longest tenured members of the ReVival Era.

Richard Parker: These two have a grudge match where the stakes couldn’t be higher!

A pause.

Richard Parker: What are they fighting for?

Nick Stuart: Twenty bucks.

Richard Parker: Oh.

A trap remix of the Soviet Union national anthem plays over throughout the arena as Kenny Freeman steps out onto the stage, looking surprisingly confident in his chances of winning the match at hand.  Randall Schwartz stands beside him, much to the chagrin of the crowd as they boo the Master of the Moscowverse as Kenny walks to the ring.

Vince Howard: The following match is the first match on Night 1 of Colossus, and is for one fall! Making his way to the ring, from Los Angeles, California. Weighing in at 160 pounds, and accompanied by Randall Schwartz…he is one half of Masters of the Moscowverse…KENNY! FREEEEEEMAAAANNNNNN!

Arriving at the ring, Kenny steps through the ropes, Randall staying at ringside to cheer the junior member of the Red Army on!

The lights go out in the arena, and a big murmur goes up in the crowd, excited for what’s next. Then the PRIMEView lights up to show a Japanese man with impeccable combed-over black hair, a square jaw, and a towel around his neck emphatically saying a phrase in his native tongue. The translation is in subtitles:

“PRO WRESTLING IS A SACRED SPORT!”

RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

A spotlight shines on the curtain, and a beat later, The Anglo Luchador jumps out, dressed in a green tracksuit with a purple towel around his neck, pumping his fist into the air. He jogs in place at the top of the ramp for a moment before bounding down to the ring, slapping hands. He gets to the ringside area, strips from his entrance gear, throwing each piece into the crowd before sliding into the ring.

Vince Howard: And his opponent, weighing in at 211 pounds and hailing from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He is the first Intense Champion of the ReVival, the Last Son of Tenochtitlan, and the Spear of Huitzilopochtli… The Anglooooo…. LUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCHADORRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!

RAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!

DING DING

Nick Stuart: And here we go!

The two men immediately tie up, but The Anglo Luchador wastes no time in using his strength to power Kenny back, pushing him down to his knees. Falling a few steps away, Kenny pauses before getting to his feet, then once again approaching TAL for a tie-up. It ends up the same way, with Kenny being shoved to the ground a few steps away.

Nick Stuart: There aren’t that many matches where The Anglo Luchador has this much of a size advantage, and it’s clear he intends to use it tonight.

Kenny, grimacing, stands up and once again moves to enter a tie-up, which The Anglo Luchador is more than happy to comply with. But before he actually enters the grapple, Kenny reaches up and pokes TAL in the eyes.

Richard Parker: That’s fine, Comrade Kenny can use other things!

Elvis Nixon chastises Kenny, but let’s be real, no one has ever been disqualified for an eye gouge, so the match continues and Kenny takes advantage of TAL’s blindness. He slaps his arms around TAL’s neck and uses it to drive him down to his knees. Squeezing on his throat, Kenny backs into a corner, then runs out and slams TAL to the mat in a bulldog. He rolls TAL over and goes for a quick pin.

ONE!

Elvis doesn’t get his hand down a second time as TAL slithers out, shaking his head and rolling over. Kenny bends down to grab him, but TAL quickly counters and flips Kenny over onto the mat.

Nick Stuart: Here is where TAL shines, the technical mat wrestling that he has mastered over the years.

Richard Parker: Yawn.

Nick Stuart: Did you just say “yawn”?

Richard Parker: Yes. It delivers the point without having to actually yawn, which could strain my throat muscles.

Nick Stuart: I see.

With Freeman on the mat, TAL quickly locks in an armbar, rolling into Freeman and causing him to scream in pain. Luckily for the Red Army member, he’s close to the ropes and uses his legs to grip them. TAL is undeterred, springing up and grabbing Freeman’s legs, then trying to lock in the high angle Boston crab.

Nick Stuart: So have you…um, ever actually strained your throat muscles by yawning?

Richard Parker: No. But I also have never broken my arm jumping out of a second story window, but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen.

Nick Stuart: I…see.

Freeman tries to fight the hold, swaying his body to fight TAL’s momentum. He finally does, causing TAL to let go and careen to the ground. Freeman pops up and slides into an elbow drop into TAL’s sternum.

Nick Stuart: So have you…um, ever jumped out of a second story window?

Richard Parker: Second story? No, not second story.

Nick Stuart: The way you clarified that makes me think you’ve jumped out of a window from a different height.

Richard Parker: Who has the time to see the number on the door of the hotel room they’re jumping out of when they need to make a quick getaway, Nick?

Nick Stuart: I am so confused.

Richard Parker: Could’ve been third, could’ve been fourth. Who’s to say?

Lifting TAL to his feet, Freeman begins to assault him with wild kicks and punches, moving the bigger man into the corner. The Anglo Luchador shields the blows with his arms but still finds himself trapped, his back hitting the turnbuckle. Freeman lands a stiff chop, then shouts in TAL’s face. This seems to wake up TAL, who grabs him and takes him down in an armdrag before holding onto the arm.

Nick Stuart: The Anglo Luchador seems focused on keeping this match on the mat, constantly bringing Freeman down to apply different holds. Far cry from someone who used to take to the skies earlier in his career.

Richard Parker: I bet he’s jumped out of a few hotel room windows.

As The Anglo Luchador locks Freeman in a side headlock on the ground, he yells at Randall Schwartz.

Nick Stuart: Is he yelling about money?

Richard Parker: Yeah, sounds like he’s asking Randall where the money is at, and not in a hip hop in the early 2000s way.

Randall shouts back, but Freeman is quickly losing the ability to shout at all, as he struggles to keep his composure and consciousness. Elvis kneels down to check on Freeman, until Randall’s shouting turns into something he can’t ignore.

Nick Stuart: Now hang on a minute! Randall Schwartz is trying to enter the ring!

Indeed, the other half of the Moscowverse has jumped onto the apron, screaming about payday loans, and as soon as Elvis walks over to him, he starts shouting at the referee as well. This gives Kenny Freeman the perfect opportunity to hammer-punch TAL in the groin, forcing him to break the hold.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick Stuart: Come on! What a cheap shot!

Richard Parker: You’re right! Payday loans are cheap and predatory companies!

Nick Stuart: No, I mean Kenny with the low blow!

Richard Parker: I agree, those scams really are a low blow to our country.

Nick Stuart: For the love of…

Kenny pops up and begins to stomp on TAL, screaming, “Where’s MY money?” as he did it.

Nick Stuart: Oh, of course, now I understand. The stipulation about $20 going to the winner. They’re both very focused on that money, it seems.

Richard Parker: That’s what the stipulation is?

Nick Stuart: Well, yeah. They’ve talked about it a lot in the lead-up to this show.

Richard Parker: What, you think I actually watch the product?!

Freeman lifts TAL to a sitting position, then sends a stiff kick into his back. TAL grimaces and braces himself, trying to get up, but another kick sends his face towards the mat, crumpling him in half. Freeman grabs TAL’s torso, turning him over for another pinfall attempt.

ONE!

TWO!

Nick Stuart: The Anglo Luchador kicks out!

Freeman argues with Elvis Nixon for a moment, then rolls TAL towards the corner. He settles him underneath the turnbuckle, then climbs the ropes and then pushes himself out into a splash.

Nick Stuart: TAL got smashed right on the chest! It looks like those shady tactics have helped Freeman take complete control of this match!

Richard Parker: It won’t be long now before Kenny Freeman has his hands on a fresh new bill with Ulysses Grant’s face on it.

Nick Stuart: Um…Andrew Jackson.

Richard Parker: No, it’s Grant.

Kenny Freeman must believe that all good things deserve another, so he flattens TAL’s body out and climbs the ropes again. Once again he flings himself backwards into a splash, flattening The Anglo Luchador. Then, he pops up and mimics putting a hand to his ear.

Nick Stuart: What’s he doing?

Richard Parker: Eavesdropping on our argument. And he’s going to come over here and tell you that Ulysses P. Grant is on the 20 dollar bill.

Nick Stuart: His middle initial is S! And I think Kenny is asking the crowd if he should try one more time.

Indeed, Kenny is asking “one more?” and holding up one finger. The fans boo relentlessly, but translated into Russian it means “Yes, Comrade! One more! Break his American bones!” And so Kenny, who speaks every language fluently, climbs up one more time.

You know what’s going to happen.

RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!

Nick Stuart: Knee!

Richard Parker: See, I told you his middle initial was P!

Nick Stuart: Not P, KNEE! TAL got his knee up, and Kenny’s wind got knocked out!

Kenny Freeman crumples on the mat, as The Possum Luchador pops back up. He can feel the momentum on his side, so he quickly lifts Kenny up and takes him right back down with a butterfly suplex. Kenny tries to get up but TAL is on him and hits another suplex, this time of the Dragon variety. Once again Kenny gets up but TAL is already on top of him, spidering around his body.

Nick Stuart: LA MAGISTROL CRADLE! THIS COULD BE IT!

ONE!

TWO!

THRE…

Nick Stuart: Kenny barely got out of that!

Richard Parker: But he did!

Indeed, the call was so close that Elvis Nixon almost looks surprised himself, holding up two fingers. TAL knows he should keep fighting, but the half second that he hesitates thinking that the match was won is all Kenny Freeman needs.

Nick Stuart: Kenny grabs TAL! He’s looking for the Freeman Special! And they’re in the middle of the ring!

Richard Parker: Lock it in, Kenny!

Kenny grabs for the leg and TAL moves it, knowing that if it’s hooked, he’s done for. Trying to sweep his legs out, he manages to kick Kenny in the face before he can hook it, giving him just enough space to slither out and get behind Kenny. Kenny looks around wildly for TAL before realizing that his head is between Kenny’s legs.

Nick Stuart: TAL grabs Kenny and stands up! Here he goes!

WHAMMMM

Nick Stuart: Japanese Ocean Cyclone Suplex! Kenny is down, and TAL hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING DING DING!

RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

Vince Howard: YOUR WINNER…THE ANGLOOOOOOOOOO LUUUUUCHAAADOOOORRRRRRR!

Nick Stuart: Well it was a hard battle that picked up at the end, but The Anglo Luchador wins the match and twenty dollars from Kenny.

Richard Parker: He might have to collect it later, partner, because Kenny is slinking backstage with Randall Schwartz to recover. Guess he won’t get his hands on that Grant yet.

Nick Stuart: Jackson!

Colossus moves on.

???: God damn it, I knew you were gonna fuck this up.

We open on the one and only Steel Door O’Doom, the barrier between Lindsay Troy and the cavalcade of dipshits in her employ. It is closed. There is a “DO NOT DISTURB” sign taped on it, with several large arrows pointing to the directive.

You’d have to be an idiot to miss it.

And we soon see that the voice we heard as the segment opened is none other than Lasagna Boy Miguel. He wears a bright yellow three piece suit that makes him nearly indistinguishable from Big Bird.

And who he was talking to is none other than Lasagna Boy Toddrick, whose metal-braced legs seem to be the only thing keeping him upright as he cracks open a 211 Steel Reserve. His suit, a bright salmon color, is covered with soot and possibly shit.

Miguel: Fred said not to get fucked up and wasted. He said any other night this week we could get as fucked up and wasted as we wanted, but not this one, not this night of all nights. This one is too important. He said it’s the most important night of our lives. He said if we failed, our lives wouldn’t have any meaning.

Toddrick: Yeah.

Miguel: And what did you do?

Toddrick: Huffed a bunch of paint and took seven Steel Reserves to the dome?

Miguel: Huffed a bunch of paint and took seven Steel Reserves to the dome.

Toddrick belches.

Miguel sighs.

Miguel: Do you remember the words at least?

Toddrick: Of course I remember the words.

Miguel: Good.

Miguel knocks on the door. A friendly knock.

No one answers.

Toddrick: Maaaaaannnnnn that ain’t how you knock on a door. THIS is how you KNOCK on a GOTDAMN DOOR!!!

Toddrick pounds the daylights out of the office door.

Toddrick: OPEN THE GOT DAMN FUCKING DOOR THIS IS THE GOT DAMN FUCKING POLICE!!!!!!!

Miguel, horrified, tries to stop Toddrick, but slowly, e-v-e-r   s-o   s-l-o-w-l-y, the Steel Door O’ Doom is pulled back from its hinges.

Wade Elliott stands in the doorway, looking confused at the sight of two Lasagna Boys in the worst suits known to man standing in front of him. Behind Wade, Lindsay Troy sits at her desk, typing something on her phone and not looking up.

Lindsay Troy: So which idiots are they?

Wade Elliott: (shrugging) Hell’if I know. One’v’em smells like shit, though.

Toddrick, initially insulted by Wade’s remark, rears back a puny fist, as if he would punch Wade with it – as if somehow, Wade would find that threatening. But then, Toddrick shrugs, and nods his head. It’s true. He does smell like shit.

Regardless, he remembers he has a job to do. He clears his throat, and affects a posh, old, British woman’s voice.

Toddrick: I BRRRRRINGETH A TELEGRAM FOR ONE LINDSAY TROY!

Wade narrows his eyes and scrunches his face, the confused look on his face growing deeper.

Wade Elliott: Son, I ain’t in th’mood an’ I don’t speak British, so you oughta git t’the point.

Over Wade’s shoulder, Lindsay finally looks up.

Lindsay Troy: I can get Athena to retrieve it.

Nearby, wings begin fluttering.

Toddrick, however, has already geared up. Miguel sets a boombox down on the floor. Toddrick breathes in some deep breaths, clearly nervous.

Toddrick: I’m really nervous. I’m just gonna… open this emergency Steel Reserve.

Miguel: Don’t open the emergency Steel Res—

Crack.

Gulp.

Clank.

Toddrick grins a drunken grin. He pulls out a sparkler. He pulls out a lighter. He lights the sparkler, and looks Wade in the eye.

Toddrick: The world is coming to an end.

Then, he falls over, drunk as shit and totally worthless. Wade cannot be less interested.

Miguel sighs. He picks up the still burning sparkler. He presses play on the boombox.

Miguel: From Fred Dick. To Lindsay Troy.

Flighty piano trails immediately tell us what it is.

It’s Vanessa Carlton.

Toddrick: WHERE YOU GOIN’ BITCH???

Miguel: Makin’ my way downtown, drivin’ around, wishin’ my boss was my ladyfriend!

Miguel mimics playing the piano part with his fingers.

Lindsay Troy starts walking toward the door, because there’s no way she’s going to miss seeing this song and dance bullshit up close.

Miguel: I forgot the words, Toddrick was, supposed to remember the fucking wooooords.

Toddrick also mimics playing the piano.

Miguel: And I need you. And I miss you. And I wondeeerrrr… If I should fallllll into a Troy, then Fred would beeeee a happy boy, ooh, and he would walk like… thirty five miles if I could just seeeeee yoooouuu… toniiiiiiiiiiiight!

He presses stop.

Miguel: Anyway, Fred like… I dunno, I guess he wants to marry you or whatever.

Toddrick: Wants to take you on a honeymoon to Vegas.

Suddenly, Fred appears in a neon blue suit, his nose taped up from last ReV’s Baffroom Fight. He jumps into the doorway, ta-da style.

Fred Dick: What do ya say, Lindsay?

He takes his toupee off his head, holds it over his heart, scowls at Wade.

Fred Dick: What say my match with THIS big ol’ dipshid is fer more than my Intense Title. What if it’s also fer… the heart of Lindsay Troy?

Fred wiggles his eyebrows seductively. Lindsay purses her lips and tries not to laugh, because her husband is pissed and that will only make this worse.

Lindsay Troy: Fred. That’s not how this works.

Fred Dick: Fugyoumean, my love?

Lindsay Troy: For starters, I can’t fucking stand you and actively find amusement in your repeated failures.

Fred Dick: Aww, c’mawn baby, yew ain’t gotsta be like dat!

Lindsay Troy: There’s also the matter of my heart not being available for the taking.

Fred Dick: Minor peripheralia! Lookit me, dressed all nice, dressed in my SUNDAY BEST… Lookin like a damn snack, lookin’ like a damn lil Debbie Chrimmus Tree Cake… where as DIS BUM right here ain’t got no suit, ain’t got no Lasagna Boys, and ain’t got no gumption. Because gumption comes from the balls, AND HE AIN’T GOT NONE!!!

Wade, patient in the face of absurdity, turns his head to his Queen.

Wade Elliott: I mean, I sorta wanna punch ‘im again, but sorta wanna see where this goes.

Lindsay looks at him, incredulous.

Lindsay Troy: This walking disasterscape just said you have no balls, and you’re not going to punch him?

A quick beat.

Lindsay Troy: Y’know what, fuck it.

CRUNCH!

Fred never sees the Queen’s right hand coming, but he sure as hell feels it bust his nose open all over again.

He grabs his nose, blood begins pouring out from the cracks of his fingers.

Fred Dick: GYAT… DAYUM!!! GOODNESS GAWD!!! SHID!!! SHID!!! FUG MUH ACE, THAT SMARTS!!!

Fred looks at Lindsay.

Fred Dick: You got a mean ace right jab, Lindsay Troy! Lawd yes! …But you know what else you got?

A pregnant pause for dramatic effect.

Fred Dick: A mean ace heart. C’mawn, Lasagna Boys. Mount up, neow!!!

Miguel sighs as he is prone to doing, grabs up the boombox and Toddrick. As they leave, Miguel turns and hisses at Lindsay.

The Boss looks at the Bad Dog and smirks.

Lindsay Troy: I hope you send him out of here on a gurney tomorrow.

Wade Elliott: Maybe, but what’re ya gonna do if he whips my ass? That blue suit’ve his gonna catch yer eye after all?

The wing fluttering intensifies.

Lindsay Troy: You’ve got a better chance of seeing Jesus, Old Man.

Nick Stuart: Welp, this next match should certainly be a fun one.

Richard Parker: I for one am gonna be really pissed off if Steve Lemieux doesn’t beat the crap out of Claymore’s dingus with a meat tenderizer.

Nick Stuart: What the hell is wrong with you?

Richard Parker: Ionno.

Nick Stuart: Well, regardless, we’ve got a very enticing match in the always surprising Alias division! It’s Mr. Beefst himself, Steve Lemieux, challenging Blaze Claymore in the nearby Publix for the Alias Championship!

A terrified man stands with a shopping cart, hands bracing the cart to avoid trembling, causing his bicep meat (what little there is) to tremble instead.

To his left, stands a man who struggles internally, yet in his heart of hearts just wants to enjoy himself — and it has manifested itself into this.

A grocery gauntlet.

Steve Lemieux and Blaze Claymore look Ashley Barlow in the eye. She holds the Alias Title over her head, before setting it on a grocery checkout counter.

Ashley Barlow: Gentlemen, here are the rules. I will give you a list of five items to find in this store. You will race one another to retrieve these five items. Once a competitor obtains all five items, they may officially begin attacking their opponent.

You can tell by her tone, she hates that she drew this straw.

Ashley Barlow: There’s only one way to win. And thats by stuffing your opponent into your grocery cart, and racing out of the store with the opponent in tow.

She looks both competitors in the eyes.

Ashley Barlow: So, gentlemen… are you ready?

Lemieux, with a horrified look, nods.

Claymore smiles at Lemieux.

Blaze Claymore: Let’s just have fun.

Lemieux noticeably gulps in response.

Ashley Barlow: Bring me a baguette! A pack of Capri Suns! A bottle of Tylenol! A box of red wine! And… a meat tenderizer.

Richard Parker: YES!!!

Nick Stuart: Would you stop!?!

Ashley Barlow: ON YOUR MARKS… GET SET… GROCERY GAUNLET!!!

Both men take off full speed with their carts down the same aisle, causing them to trap one another. Neither cart can move an inch.

Lemieux adjusts his glasses, looks at Claymore.

Steve Lemieux: Move your cart.

Blaze Claymore: Move yours!

Lemieux glances back at Ashley. She can’t see their fronts. So, Lemieux turns heel right in front of our eyes instead, and cup checks Claymore in the nuts with a backhand slap!

Claymore damn near keels over in pain, and it gives Lemieux the edge he needs to scoot by Claymore and start shopping.

Blaze looks back at Ashley, and she shrugs her shoulders. Can’t disqualify a guy for something she didn’t see.

He rolls his eyes and starts his supermarket sweep himself.

Claymore darts down the nearest aisle, the cooking aisle, and swiftly grabs a meat tenderizer.

He looks up just as Lemieux darts by. Noticing he already has a lot in his cart, Claymore double times it as he continues to grab things.

Meanwhile, the time edge Lemieux bought himself means he’s two items ahead. He’s got the baguette. The Capri Suns. The box of wine. He darts down the medicine aisle.

Nick Stuart: Despite his underhanded tactics, Lemieux is flying through the initial phase of this match!

Richard Parker: You can’t expect to out-grocery a professional burger chef, Nick! Beefst! Beefst! Beefst!

Nick Stuart: So you’ve just fully abandoned the notion of impartiality.

Richard Parker: You literally say this to me every week. At what point are you just going to accept the reality that I’m a piece of shit?

Nick Stuart: I believe in you, Richard.

Richard Parker: Eww.

Something happens when Lemieux reaches the cooking aisle.

His eyes widen. His breaths shorten. Like a panic attack, but… sinister. Something behind those wide eyes. They don’t seem like the eyes of a man terrified of what is about to happen.

They appear to be the eyes of a man who regrets what he’s going to have to do.

He grabs the meat tenderizer, places it gently in the baby seat.

Then, he fills the buggy with pots, pans, tongs, a George Foreman grill, an air fryer.

Only then does Lemieux race back to Ashley.

But when he gets there, he is surprised to see that Blaze Claymore is getting his five items checked by Ashley Barlow. All that filling up items in his basket has cost him.

Ashley Barlow: That’s five! Now Blaze, you may now legally attack your opponent.

Lemieux looks at Blaze.

Blaze looks at Lemieux. He grabs the stale baguette from his shopping cart.

Blaze charges Lemieux.

Lemieux pulls his own baguette from his buggy.

And thus, a baguette duel begins. A swordfight of sorts, a baker’s medieval fantasy.

Richard Parker: You know, Nick. It doesn’t get any better than this.

Nick Stuart: Enjoying the dueling baguettes are you?

How could you not. They parry and stab and reposte until, eventually, Blaze takes a wild, baseball esque swing with his baguette — which Lemieux ducks under and pushes his cart forward, all the way to Ashley Barlow.

Richard Parker: What a move! Mr. Beefst is zesty tonight!

Nick Stuart: While Lemieux is getting his cart judged by our referee Ashley Barlow, Claymore is not allowed to do any offense.

And thus it seems that Claymore has left the screen. What’s he up to?

Ashley Barlow: That’s five for Lemieux, and he is now a legal competitor!

Richard Parker: Alriiiight!

Lemieux sighs. He has done something successful. Which is good. But now, where did Claymore go?

Suddenly, the eery quiet of a basically empty store becomes the biggest character in the scene. A haunting of fluorescent lights and four rubber wheels, slowly rolling a janky grocery cart towards an unknown destiny.

Steve Lemieux: Don’t be a trickster, Blaze! Show yourself, and fight with honor!

Crickets.

Humming, flickering fluorescent light hell.

And slowly but surely Lemieux descends into the 7th ring.

The produce section.

He looks around.

Nothing. No one.

Just some onions, and tomatoes. Cucumbers. All that shit.

Oh, look, a fruit stand.

Wow, this innocuous pile of honeydew melons looks non-threatening and potentially delicious, and— OH MY GOD BLAZE CLAYMORE EMERGES FROM THE HONEYDEWS LIKE A DEVIL!!!

Blaze Claymore: RUUUUAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

SMASH!!!

He smashes a honeydew melon square over Lemieux’s head, and Mr. Beefst is fucking down and out!

Richard Parker: He just killed poor Steve dead!!!

Nick Stuart: No… probably… probably not… right?

If you’ve never taken a honeydew melon smashed point blank into the top of your cranium, you wouldn’t have any real idea of what Lemieux is going through.

Let’s just say, it’s a bad idea for him to go to sleep any time soon. The man is seeing actual stars inside of a grocery store.

Nonetheless, Claymore climbs out of the fruit stand, and goes to retrieve his cart which he stashed behind the nearby deli counter.

He scoops Lemieux up.

Drops him in the basket.

Begins to run, pushing the buggy, towards Ashley.

But the cart doesn’t move as quickly with an adult human being in it. And before he can even get out of the produce section, Lemieux is stood up in the cart.

He just has zero idea how he’s going to get out.

Claymore doesn’t seem to mind that Lemieux is standing. He just keeps pushing, until—

Lemieux leaps in the air!!!!

LOU THESZ (-ish) PRESS!!!

BUT HIS ANKLES CATCH THE CART!!!

CRASH!!!!

Nick Stuart: Oh my god.

Indeed. Claymore fell on his back, Lemieux fell on Claymore, and the cart fell on Lemieux.

Both men struggle to try and reach their feet.

Though, both men, perhaps regrettably, do.

Lemieux KICKS Claymore in the nuts.

Richard Parker: Yes.

Claymore doubles over, Lemieux pushes him to the ground. Then he stomps Claymore in the nuts.

Richard Parker: Yes.

He stomps Claymore in the nuts again!

Richard Parker: YES.

He throws a pot onto Claymore’s nuts.

Richard Parker: YES.

He smashes a pan into Claymore’s nuts.

Richard Parker: YES.

Then, he grabs the meat tenderizer.

Richard Parker: Oh my god, Nick, he’s gonna do it.

Nick Stuart: Lemieux has made himself a scumbag tonight! To singularly target an opponent’s leg is strategy. His back, that’s strategy. But testicles? No. That’s a bridge too far.

He meat tenderizers Claymore’s nuts! Smash smash smash smash smash!!!!

Richard Parker: YES!!! YES!!! LEMIEUX!!!

Lemieux, meanwhile, has the wildest look in his eye.

He walks over to the deli counter.

And, after a bit of prying? He RIPS a meat cleaver from the machine.

Nick Stuart: Woah, woah, woah!

Richard Parker: Ok, that’s too far!

Lemieux hovers over Claymore, who is only just now regaining his breath from the repeated testicular trauma.

Blaze Claymore: Uh… what uh… what are you gonna do with that?

Steve Lemieux: …I’m gonna chop up your testicles with this meat slicer.

Blaze Claymore: Steve… that’s… that’s a fucking felony, man!

Steve Lemieux: I know. HIYAAHHHHHHH!!!

Blaze rolls out of the way and, in panicked desperation, sweeps Lemieux’s legs out from under him. He lands on his back hard, knocks the wind out of him, the cleaver goes skittering across the grocery store floor.

Blaze Claymore: This was supposed to be fun, you prick. From its conception, this is fundamentally a game. You don’t chop nuts with a cleaver in a grocery game. It’s bad form.

Claymore opens a Capri Sun, squirts it out into Lemieux’s face.

Blaze Claymore: See, that’s fun. That’s the kinda hijinx people expect. No more nut knives, okay?

Steve Lemieux: Ok!

Nick Stuart: He sweeps Claymore’s legs out from under him.

Richard Parker: Tit for tat, Nick!

Lemieux wanders away from the produce aisle.

Claymore scrambles to his feet, and looks around.

It appears the hunter has become the hunted.

Claymore starts searching quickly down the aisles. Eventually he realizes there’s only one place he hasn’t looked.

The dairy section.

Would a beef man hide with the milk?

Or the cheese?

As Claymore ponders these questions, he can’t help but feel like he’s made a mistake. There’s nowhere to hide, really, and—

Whack!!! 

Nick Stuart: GALLON OF MILK FROM BEHIND RIGHT INTO CLAYMORE’S HEAD!!!

Milk splatters everywhere and spills all over Claymore

Steve Lemieux: Cleanup on Aisle Balls.

Then he kicks Claymore in the nuts yet again.

Claymore, in pain and furious, uppercuts the JAYSUS out of Lemieux’s chin.

Lemieux actually goes airborne for a second before hitting the ground.

Blaze, trying to remember this is supposed to be fun in accordance with his vision, decides to get a little wild.

Blaze Claymore: I’m gonna make you some chocolate milk, Steve.

He walks over to the chocolate syrups. Grabs one.

He walks over to the gallons of milk. Grabs buttermilk, because eww.

Then, he squeezes chocolate syrup onto Lemieux’s face while pouring milk onto it. Lemieux, feeling like he’s drowning, starts visibly freaking out.

Richard Parker: …Chocolate milk boarding?

He bites Claymore’s ankle!!!

Then he lowblows Claymore!!!

Then he grabs an almond milk container and backhand slaps the shit out of Claymore!!!

Almond milk goes everywhere!!!

…and then he lowblows him again!!!

Richard Parker: EL. EM. AY. OH.

Lemieux struggles, but he gets Claymore into his buggy.

Then he hits him over the head with a George Foreman grill.

Finally, Lemieux races for the doors.

Claymore stirs. He looks incapacitated, but it also looks as though mentally, he’s aware he shouldn’t be in that cart.

He nearly hoists himself out the side of it.

But by the time he makes it out?

He lands on the concrete, outside of the store.

There, holding the Alias Title, is none other than Ashley Barlow.

Ashley Barlow: THE WINNER OF THE GROCERY GAUNTLET AND NEW ALIAS CHAMPION… STEVE!!! LEMIEUX!!!!

Richard Parker: Nick, I don’t mean to disregard the storied history of PRIME, or to belittle the work of other wrestlers in this company, but…

Nick Stuart: Yes?

Richard Parker: Greatest. Match. Of all. Time.

Nick Stuart groans.

Despite being hit in the genitals possibly the most in any PRIME match we’d have to look into it, but regardless, Blaze congratulates Lemieux with a handshake.

Steve Lemieux: I’m sorry about all that. I didn’t have a choice. Not if I wanted to win.

Blaze nods. It’s solemn. But it’s understanding.

We cut to commercial.

WATCH THE REPLAY [NIGHT 1 | NIGHT 2]

Backstage.The biggest show of the year. The Hollywood of the South.

Naturally, all the biggest stars will be here. Your Troys, your Farthingtons, your Tilliers.

And, of course, your Coltons.

Just one Coltons, surprisingly; they normally travel in packs. The solitary Colton is Nate, and he strides through the halls with purpose.

And a claw hammer.

Oh dear.

Thankfully, he doesn’t appear to have any nails in his other hand. Or wood screws, railroad spikes, anything that might be used in certain kinds of home repair or building projects.

That’s because they’re in his back pocket.

Oh dear.

Someone should probably get involved here. We can’t have people nailing other people’s dicks to walls. We won’t get our deposit back.

Fortunately, someone does get involved. It’s Dametreyus, PRIME’s head of security. And a couple of Enemigos. And a…duck?

…

Yep. That’s a duck, all right.

Dametreyus: Colton.

Nate Colton: Dametreyus. Is…that a duck?

Yes, it is. A call duck, specifically, well known for its small size and curious and friendly demeanor.

Dametreyus: Yeah.

Nate Colton: …why?

Dametreyus: Ask Charles Beckett.

Colton, who is somewhat familiar with Charles Beckett and his…casual relationship with reality, shows remarkable wisdom.

Nate Colton: No thanks.

Dametreyus: Where ya headed?

Nate Colton: I got business with Hayes Hanlon. You seen him anywhere?

Dametreyus: You ain’t gonna nail his dick to the wall, are you?

Nate Colton: I’m a man of my word, sir. I made a promise.

Dametreyus: I know. Can’t let you do it, though. Gonna get us in trouble with the unions again.

Nate Colton: It’s my hammer, though. Bought it with my own money. Receipt’s in my pocket.

The duck, craning out its neck to get a better look at the new Diamond, suddenly snaps at his hand.

Nate Colton: Hey!

Dametreyus: Duck’s got a point. Doesn’t matter if you bring your own tools; it counts as construction and needs to be handled by the union. Besides, the sponsors won’t like it.

Nate Colton: It’s not like I’m gonna kidnap or kill anybody.

Dametreyus: Y’all get up to some crazy shit here, but you nail someone’s dick to the wall and we’re gonna lose sponsors. Then you’re fuckin’ with a lot of people’s money. Not just the rich folk, either. A lot of people who need these jobs. D’you know how much Enemigo IX has to pay in child support?

Enemigo IX suddenly finds a very interesting spot on the wall to stare at. XXIII side-eyes him a bit.

Dametreyus: I get that you’re pissed ‘cause he fucked with your family, but this ain’t it. Save it for the ring, OK?

Colton doesn’t answer right away. His grip tightens on the hammer, like he’s focusing all his energy into his grip.

Like he can feel the swing. See the blood. Hear the screams.

Breathe in.

Hold.

Breathe out.

…

Nate Colton: Fine. But you make sure Hayes gets this message, OK?

Dametreyus: I’m busy.

Nate Colton: You, then.

He points the hammer–handle first–at Enemigo XXIII.

Nate Colton: You tell Hayes Hanlon that I’m not just gonna beat him. I’m not just gonna kick his ass. Tomorrow night, he is going to get what’s coming to him. He’s gonna get what he deserves. Understand?

Enemigo XXIII nods.

Nate Colton: You tell him. Those exact words.

Dametreyus holds out his hand expectantly. With some hesitation, Colton hands him the hammer.

PRIME’s Head of Security seems satisfied. His Assistant Head of Security, however, is not.

Duckmetreyus: Quack!

Dametreyus: And the nails.

Nate Colton: Snitch.

Nate reaches into his back pocket and brings out a small plastic case of thumbtacks.

Dametreyus: Really?

Nate Colton: I figured that’s all I would need, with all the short dick shit Hayes has pulled this year.

Dametreyus chuckles, and Duckmetreyus fixes its bill around the plastic case and takes it away.

Dametreyus: All right, kid, get outta here. Don’t start any shit tonight; we’re already busy.

Colton nods; still upset but at least willing to comply. He points at Enemigo XXIII again…

Nate Colton: I mean it. Tell him.

…and takes his leave. Dametreyus shakes his head at the New Diamond as he goes.

Dametreyus: Goddamn white people, I swear.

Duckmetreyus: Quack!

Dametreyus: People, I said.

Moving on.

“…but Daaaaaad.”

The boy’s voice trailed off as we see Bryan Dawkins turn the corner and the object of tonight’s stipulation, Nico, trailing closely behind. Although we’re moments away from the biggest match of his career, Bryan’s wrestling gear is nowhere to be found. His normally bright crimson and gold decorated tights have been replaced by no nonsense Red Army issued fatigues and combat boots. The drab green camo is a stark departure for the Hawaiian.

Bryan Dawkins: We already had this discussion, Nico. The answer hasn’t changed.

Nico Dawkins: But…

Dawkins stops in his tracks to get eye-to-eye with his son.

Bryan Dawkins: If you think for one second that I’m going to allow you to get anywhere near that psychopath, you’re out of your mind. I’m ending this shit, once and for all, buddy. Your mom’s coming home tonight.

Nico lets out a sigh to accompany his shoulder shrug. His father turns on a dime and continues to stomp through the corridor.

Bryan Dawkins: Now, we just need to find…

They turn the corner and run into a brick wall.

Well, more of a metaphorical one.

With suspenders.

“Comrade Dawkins!”

The Russian Bear’s voice echoes off of the concrete floors. Alexei stands off to his side, his moustache bristling at the mere sight of Dawkins. There’s never been any love lost between the two.

Dawkins straightens his posture.

Bryan Dawkins: This is great – was just looking for you bruhs. I need to keep him…

He gestures toward Nico.

Bryan Dawkins: …away from what’s about to happen.

Stanislav grips the waist of his pants and hefts them up higher around his body, creating slack in his suspenders along his broad shoulders. He grins through his beard.

Ivan Stanislav: Of course, Alexei and I can watch after the young man.

Bryan Dawkins: Oh…uh, where’s Arina? I figured she could keep an eye on him while I take care of business.

Whatever smile Stanislav had on his face immediately disintegrates into a scowl. A gout of breath blasts from his nostrils, and The Bear immediately turns on his heel and trudges away. Alexei doesn’t turn his head, but he does cut his eyes up and to the right, watching Ivan leave.

He adjusts his tie and clears his throat.

Alexei Ruslan: Starshy Praporshchik Stanislav still has much on his mind with destruction of Jared Sykes tomorrow… best we let him consider such things. Besides…

Ruslan reaches over and wraps his arm around Nico’s shoulder, leaning in close enough that his hat nearly bumps the young man’s forehead. He nearly snatches the youth away, walking alongside him while Ivan turns a corner further down the hall.

Alexei Ruslan: Uncle Alyosha is always willing to take him under his wing. Have you been working on your observation notes, Nikolai?

Before Dawkins can offer anything resembling a rejection, he watches his son meander down the hallway, flanked by Ivan Stanislav’s right hand man. A year ago, that was a sentence that no one on this earth would have been able to conjure.

He chokes down whatever objection was stirring and blinks a few times, hoping what he just saw was a mirage of some kind. Unfortunately, he watches Nico turn the same corner they rounded not minutes ago, followed closely behind by Ruslan.

Dawkins shakes his head, hoping to clear that memory from his brain before turning to head toward the Argyle position. He pulls out a roll of black athletic tape and begins to wrap his wrists and hands in preparation. He whispers just loud enough for himself to hear.

Bryan Dawkins: C’mon, bruh. For Kai…

He moves to the other hand, making quick work of the tape job as he trudges toward what is almost certain doom.

Bryan Dawkins: For Nico…

His tape job complete, he tosses the remainder of the roll to the side and tests his work, flexing the wrists and throwing a few shadow punches as he moves along.

Bryan Dawkins: For us…

We cut to ringside.

The lights go out.

Is it the first time that’s happened tonight? Maybe. Will it be the last? Doubt it.

We argue in the kitchen about whether to have children
About the world ending and the scale of my ambition
And how much is art really worth?
The very thing you’re best at is the thing that hurts the most

“King” is a song Anna Daniels uses…elsewhere. With this song comes a soft golden glow to the arena, onto Greco-Roman pillars that weren’t there a moment ago and busts of faces long forgotten by both Time and consequence.

But a woman is a changeling
Always shifting shape
Just when you think you have it figured out
Something new begins to take

A spotlight pops up on the entrance way as a figure suddenly begins to form. They do not opt to come through a tunnel or the crowd. Instead, they just manifest themself into existence wholesale in the light. The back turned towards the ring, her hair tied up in a complex bun, the flowing red dress, the golden knee high boots and–most alarming to some–the fucking huge, blazing red sword. One hand on the weapon. The other raises in dramatic fashion.

Rose petals float from the sky at the gesture. Boos are forming from the audience. But they don’t seem to alter the graceful figure at all. They don’t matter.

I need my golden crown of sorrow
My bloody sword to swing
I need my empty halls to echo with grand self-mythology
‘Cause I am no mother, I am no bride, I am king

The line repeats twice more. Usually, there would be a short pause before Florence’s vocal stylings reach a crescendo towards the end. This time, the song fades. This shitbox in Atlanta has been turned into a theater that is both ancient and timeless, made of passion and will.

But nothing gold can stay.

The light…shifts. What was once a steady glow begins to flicker. The scent of flowers start to give way to the stink of smoke. A guitar strums to present the depths. The voice doesn’t change, only the song.

I crawled up from under the earth
Broken nails and coughing dirt
Spitting out my songs so
You could sing along oh

The flames circle around her. She easily undoes the bun, unleashing those blonde locks.

And with each bedraggled breath I knew I came back from the dead
To show you how it’s done
To show you what it takes to conquer and to crucify
To become one of the greats

The dress melts away, remaking itself in a costume change that would make the greatest drag queens gag. The glorious gown shifts into a cape whose shape is familiar to ReVival era oldheads. A high collar echoes Gallifreyian styles, the cape itself is a patchwork of reds.

Red flags.

The Muse slowly turns showing the equally crimson war paint on her face. Everything else underneath the cape blackens under flame and heat. From the cuirass and greaves to the bodysuit and even the boots. There is still elements of the shine and nobility left standing even if most of it is charred. The big fuck off sword is now an even bigger fuck off sword, damn near the same length as the wielder.

The transformation from Emperor of Rome to Whore of Babylon complete, Anna Daniels steps through the flames in defiance of the thrice-setting sun as well as their fate in a universe that wishes to spit her out.

But I’ve really done it this time
This one is all mine
I’ll be up there with the man and the 10 other women and
The 100 greatest records of all time
It must be nice to be a man 

“–and wrestle boring matches just because you can”, She mouths directly to the camera.

…let’s be honest. The Multitudes are calling out the entire roster on that one.

There’s a certain grace to her movements and a steel in her eyes upon approaching the ring. But Jimmy Turnbull is yelling at her. Why? Because of the giant fuck off sword this psychotic bitch has, of course. And given Anna’s dislike of PRIME referees, this could be a bad call to make. After all, a sword is just a bigger knife.

Her head tilts in confusion at first before a smirk begins to form. She somehow manages to lift this giant fuck off sword above her head and swings it, barely missing ol’ Jimothy as he scurries away. It cuts through the ring ropes and becomes embedded into the canvas like a demented Excalibur.

I will let the light in, I will let some love in
I will be happy, it will be perfect

She leaps onto the apron and walks over the downed ropes. The audience boos as Anna Daniels embraces the fading light of the theater, the dangerous light of fire, and–most important of all–the white hot heat of the spotlight.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Sydney, New South Wales, Australia THEY ARE THE MUSE… ANNNNNNAA DANNNNNIELS!

With the music now cut, the boos are impossible to ignore and yet, somehow, the Timelord manages to do just that.

Richard Parker: Those are some steel nerves, Nick. Anna is clearly locked in for tonight’s match.

Nick Stuart: All well and good when you’re the first one out to the ring, Richard – let’s see how they hold up when the Psychoberry arrives.

The beat of “RATATATA” by BABYMETAL and Electric Callboy thumps over the PA system in the arena. 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 ABoveee…🎵

The music sputters out, leaving silence.

Nick Stuart: I’m not sure what’s happening here. Can someone in the back let me know if we’re having audio issues?

Richard Parker: She better not have run away! I wanna see Anna Daniels get hit right in the mouth!

Nick Stuart:  C’mon, Rich. Keep it professional. Anyway, there’s clearly something going on.

Short of a minute, the crowd starts to get restless. Finally, something else starts to echo through the Mercedes-Benz Stadium.

🎵TONIIIIIIGHT-IGHT-IGHT…
TONIIIIIIIIIIGHT-IGHT-IGHT…
TONIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT… WE’LL MAKE LOVE TILL WE DIEEEEE🎵

An individual walks out as the chorus of Tonight (We’ll Make Love Until We Die) by SSQ hits full volume; Ria Nightshade. Kind of. No, it’s actually Bex Savage, dressed as Nightshade. However, shortly following her onto stage is the genuine article. The actual Ria Nightshade. Both dance, mirrored reflections. Ria’s hips swing left, Bex’s swing right. The choreography continues until the two lock eyes. Each shares a smirk before they start to trot to the ring. They don’t make it far before stopping, every light in the arena going dark. Another wait, but this time, there’s a sense of anticipation amongst the PRIMEates in Atlanta.

🎵’CAUSE I, I’M MY TYPE
MY TYPE
MY TYPE
MY T-T-T-TYYYYYYYYPEEEEE🎵

The lights pop back on. Bex Nightshade is still there, on the left. In the middle (and in some way, to the right) stands Ria Lockhart… dressed in white and gold. There’s a sneer plastered on her face as stares towards the ring, DIOR shades obstructing any look into her eyes. Standing on her right, dressed as provocatively chic, wearing a similar expression, is Angel Quinley. The significant others strut towards the ring further, Bexshade boogeying and vibing to the side. Once ringside, out go the lights once more. Buzzing. What’s next? What other surprise could be had? The wait wasn’t long.

🎵LET’S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!
LET’S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!🎵

The crowd EXPLODES. The volume remains when the light pink and baby blue version of RIA is revealed by the increased brightness. Does she have a counterpart? Why yes she does; Kohime Mori, decked out in an outfit she surely would never choose for herself, nonetheless beams exuberantly. The Psychoberry and the Moé Monster share a nod before engaging in the songs routine: a jump to the left! A step to the right! Hands on your hips! Pull your knees in tight! Pelvic thrusts that really drive them insane!

🎵LET’S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!
LET’S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!🎵

RIA, Mori, the QuiIP and Bex bop and jive about halfway around the ring, slapping hands on the way before the stadium is engulfed in darkness once more. Eagerness rises again. There was going to be something else. What else could there be? What would RIA do next? A mix of drums and an electric guitar blare from the PA system. A call back.

🎵I’M NOT A STRANGER TO THE DARK
“HIDE AWAY, ” THEY SAY “‘CAUSE WE DON’T WANT YOUR BROKEN PARTS”
I’VE LEARNED TO BE ASHAMED OF ALL MY SCARS
“RUN AWAY, ” THEY SAY “NO ONE’LL LOVE YOU AS YOU ARE”

BUT I WON’T LET THEM BREAK ME DOWN TO DUST
I KNOW THAT THERE’S A PLACE FOR US
FOR WE ARE GLORIOUS🎵

As the beat drops, RIA Lockhart as we know her is standing at ringside. The raucous audience welcomes the current iteration of the Psychoberry to Colossus. Her and her friends continue their indulgent trek with the nearby fans. After a full lap, the group draws in. Savage gets a hug, as does Mori. Angel gets not only an embrace (slightly longer than the other two), but a kiss as well. Quinley gives Lockhart a slap on the butt to direct her into the ring before the gaggle heads towards the back.

Vince Howard: Representing the New World Trash! Weighing in at 160 pounds! From Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania! THE PSYCHOBERRY, RIIIIAAAAAAA LOOOOOOOOCKHAAAAART!

In the squared circle, RIA waves her arms up and down, trying to will the crowd into even more noise. The Atlanta faithful give the best effort they can, earning a dazzling smile and round of applause from Lockhart. She heads to her designated corner, facing out towards the crowd. RIA closes her eyes and rests her forehead against the top turnbuckle, bracing herself with the top rope while waiting for the bell to ring.

Nick Stuart: We’re moments away, Rich. The match some thought we’d never see.

Richard Parker: Yeah yeah. It is kinda sad, I guess. But these two made their own beds. Why cry over spilled milk when you can kick each other’s asses over it instead?

Nick Stuart: Well, I certainly can’t argue that point.

DING DING DING!

RIA bolts like she’s shot out of a cannon – straight toward Anna who calmly sidesteps the Psychoberry – letting her nearly crash into the turnbuckle!

The Time Lord stands in place waiting for RIA, who pivots and leaps toward Daniels who connects with a SUPERMAN PUNCH!

The Rainbow Riot tumbles feet-over-head onto the mat, but doesn’t stay down long. RIA pushes herself up and lunges again at Anna and wraps her arms around the Time Lord in what seems to be a hug!

Anna’s calm demeanor waivers for a split second, which is all RIA needs to convert her hold into a BACKDROP SUPLEX!

Ooooooo!

The crowd winces as Anna lands awkwardly on her neck and shoulder, but Daniels rolls through and kips up as the pair crouch and take defensive positions.

Nick Stuart: The two “sisters” are feeling each other out here early on, Richard.

Richard Parker: Not sure what your porn search history has to do with anything, Nick, but unsurprisingly, “Rabid” RIA Lockhart is the aggressor here meanwhile Anna-

SLAP!

Oooooo!!!

Anna calmly approaches RIA and, without fanfare, lands a vicious open-palm strike across the cheek of Lockhart!

Nick Stuart: Good God! RIA is holding a hand to her face but I think it may be just to make sure it is still there!

Richard Parker: As I was saying, Nick, Anna knows how hot-headed RIA can get and she knows exactly what buttons to push to force a mistake! That’s what you get when you have multiple personalities working together instead of against each other.

RIA lets out a mix of a roar and a scream as she lunges forward and locks up with Anna in the middle of the ring, grabbing at the Time Lord’s shoulders as Anna reaches up to grab a hold of RIA’s neck. Lockhart slams the palm of her free hand into Anna’s jaw for a bit of tit-for-tat but Daniels counters by driving her knee into the Psychoberry’s sternum!

RIA pivots from palm strikes to a head butt, launching herself upward directly into Anna’s chin and mouth! Daniels releases and steps backward, touching at her lips and pulling back two fingers, which are covered in blood.

Anna curls her blood-tinged fingers into a fist, swinging directly at RIA’s head, causing Lockhart to raise her hands in a block, but it was a distraction! Daniels pulls her punch and instead crouches and spins, landing a devastating kick to the side of RIA’s kneecap!

RIA screams in pain as she drops to one knee and looks up at Anna Daniels, who flashes a blood-soaked smile before pivoting to her other foot and using every ounce of her power to connect with a vicious spin kick that sends the Rainbow Riot flying across the ring!

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

The crowd leaps to their feet as Anna Daniels snaps her fingers and motions for Jimmy Turnbull to follow. She grabs a hold of RIA’s legs and leans forward putting all her weight on them as she locks in the Alligator Clutch!

ONE!

TWO!

NO! KICKOUT! AND ANNA DANIELS GOES THROUGH THE ROPES!

Richard Parker: What!? HOW!?

Lockhart, with every ounce of strength and determination, appears to have rolled backwards, toward the ropes, kicking upwards at the same time, causing Daniels to lose her balance and tumble to the outside!

The Psychoberry is breathing heavily as she leans against the ropes and looks out to ringside as Anna Daniels is slow to get up.

Nick Stuart: Going to take more than that to take Lockhart down!

Richard Parker: But she’s also definitely lost a lot of her early momentum, Nick. She can barely stand on that injured leg!

Except RIA isn’t trying to stand – she’s trying to climb!

The Rainbow Death Doll appears to be trying to live up to her name as she grits her teeth, making her way up the near turnbuckle!

RIA! RIA! RIA!

The fans are egging Lockhart on as she finally makes it to the top of the turnbuckle and looks down at Anna Daniels who has her head turned, but in the wrong direction! With a dawning realization the Muse realizes RIA is missing from the ring before peering upward.

SWANTON BOMB!

Richard Parker: She killed them! She killed them both!

Both competitors laid out and unmoving after Anna Daniels tried to catch the vaulting RIA but instead took a direct blow from RIA’s ass directly onto her forehead!

Nick Stuart: RIA is laying everything on the line, Richard – most certainly her body and possibly her career!

Richard Parker: That’s what I’ve been saying! She’s a lunatic, Nick! Anna was absolutely right to distance her from Lockhart. Now, like a jilted ex, she’s decided murder-suicide is the only option left!

Nick Stuart: Damn, Richard. That’s dark.

Jimmy Turnbull has begin issuing a count as both competitors struggle to move.

ONE!

TWO!

RIA rolls over on her back, gasping for air and clawing at the barricades to help pull herself back up.

THREE!

Anna Daniels begins to stir, grabbing at her head as she sits up and looks over to RIA Lockhart.

FOUR!

FIVE!

Anna says something we can’t hear to RIA who… is SMILING!?

SIX!

The Time Lord manages to get fully to her feet and rolls into the ring as RIA follows in pursuit.

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

Just as RIA reaches the edge of the mat, Anna Daniels goes for a sliding kick! The Muse tries to send RIA back into the barricades and win this match with a count out–

NINE!

But RIA rolls out of the way, grabbing the bottom rope, as she pulls her legs up just in time! Anna sneers, pushing her hair back, before kicking wildly at RIA who is still holding on to the ropes for dear life!

Nick Stuart: RIA is a sitting duck like that, and Anna is taking full advantage!

Richard Parker: Again, smart tactics by Daniels! She isn’t being swayed by emotion! She’s cold, calculating, and knows she has a job to finish!

With the last kick to the gut, RIA’s strength gives out and she tumbles to the outside. Anna simply watches, unflinching as Jimmy checks on the Rainbow Riot before beginning another count.

ONE!

T-

Anna reaches through the ropes, not even letting Jimmy get a two count in, and grabs a hold of RIA by her wildly colorful hair and tries to pull her up onto the mat!

RIA thrashes as Anna tries to pull Lockhart up, but Daniels is locked on and isn’t letting go! Lockhart desperately reaches upward and manages to wrap her arms around Anna’s neck before pulling away and taking the full weight of her body with her!

Daniels’ neck hits the middle rope with 160 pounds of force and causes Daniels to fly backwards in the ring, giving RIA an opening! The Psychoberry climbs the steps on the outside and approaches the turnbuckle.

Richard Parker: No way… she’s not stupid enough to try that move again is she!?

Nick Stuart: Love and family – even if it’s your chosen family – will make you do some crazy things, Richard!

RIA’s chest heaves up and down as she makes her way, cautiously to the top of the post, and this time goes for a SENTON BOMB!

Nick Stuart: This is it! This is-

Richard Parker: WHAT YOU GET!

This time Daniels doesn’t miss, catching RIA mid-air as she grabs at the Psychoberry’s waist and uses all the momentum to spin Lockhart around twice before planting the Rainbow Riot on her back with a BLUE TARDIS BOMB!

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

The fans explode as even Anna Daniels looks surprised at how the sequence played out! She grabs RIA’s legs and leans forward as Jimmy counts.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

KICKOUT!

The roar throughout the arena somehow gets even louder as Anna Daniels lets her so-far calm-and-collected demeanor drop for the briefest of moments to shout an expletive at Jimmy Turnbull who holds up two fingers. Anna responds with her own single finger, which draws a warning from the referee!

Meanwhile, RIA gets to her feet, barely, and hobbles herself into a GUT KICK to the distracted Daniels! The wind rushes out of Anna as she recoils, stepping backwards towards the corner with Rainbow Riot in hot pursuit!

With a speed that Anna Daniels clearly miscalculates, RIA slams her body into The Muse, causing the Poor Whoresman member to drop into a seated position in the corner. RIA’s face contorts with rage, betrayal and eagerness as she stomps Daniels repeatedly in the ribs!

A groggy Anna Daniels tries to pull herself up, only to have Lockhart lift her injured leg and press it directly against her opponent’s windpipe!

Nick Stuart: Daniels’ throat is already suffering from that rope burn earlier in the match and now RIA is taking advantage of it! What was that you said about emotion versus calculation, Richard?

Richard Parker: Well RIA would be able to place a lot more pressure on that move if her emotion hadn’t led to her leg getting re-injured, Nick!

Daniels reaches up and grabs a hold of Lockhart’s ankle and twists, hard! The torque draws a yelp from RIA who hobbles back – one step, two steps, but then vaults into a handstand and wraps her legs around Anna Daniels’ neck, twisting like a corkscrew as she rolls her body to the side and bring Daniels down to the mat into a modified headscissors!

The Muse is flailing, clawing at RIA’s legs as the Psychoberry screams from the pressure on her wounded limbs, but is fighting through the pain. Daniels shifts her focus to try and grasp at the nearby ropes but she is just out of reach!

Jimmy Turnbull is asking Anna if she wants to quit, but she shakes her head, trying to get RIA to release the hold! Lockhart instead squeezes even tighter, and screams even louder, as Anna’s face begins to flush and her eyes begin to flutter.

The referee grabs a hold of Anna’s arm and lifts it up – letting it drop.

ONE!

He checks on Anna and lifts the arm again. It drops.

TWO!

Richard Parker: Not like this! Not like this!
Jimmy grabs Anna’s arm one more time, lifting it up, but jumps back as Anna’s eyes go wide! RIA doesn’t see this as the arm continues to fall and the Psychoberry lets her hold release just enough as Anna Daniels SLAMS an elbow on top of RIA’s kneecap!

RIA howls in pain as Anna Daniels gasps for air, clawing her way away from RIA!

Nick Stuart: Both of these fighters have given it their all here tonight, Richard – RIA barely able to walk and now Anna Daniels barely able to breathe!

Richard Parker: Come on Anna! You don’t need a voice to wrestle! But you do need legs! Take her out now!

Anna pushes herself up, blood pouring down her chin as RIA claws up the ropes. The pair stare at one another, bodies stretched and broken as Anna wipes at her mouth and then gestures to RIA to come for her.

RIA lets out a pained laugh and hobbles forward, picking up steam even while dragging her injured foot behind her. Anna braces herself as RIA approaches and lands a kick to the Psychoberry’s head!

Lockhart staggers but avoids the lockup attempt by Daniels! RIA slips through Anna’s arms and manages to land a solid right hook! The Muse grabs RIA’s arm, pulls her close, and locks in a sleeper!

RIA thrashes wildly as Anna leans in, whispering something to RIA, before locking in the hold even tighter! Jimmy Turnbull rushes over to check on the competitors, but before he can even get over to check on RIA, the Psychoberry, with every last ounce of energy she has, pulls down and extends her legs into a seated position, bringing Anna’s head and neck along with her!
Nick Stuart: SHOCK SYNDROME! SHOCK SYNDROME! RIA just gave a third strike to Anna Daniels’ larynx and the Time Lord may be out!

An exhausted RIA, not even sure where she is, rolls to her side and gets an arm over the chest of Anna Daniels.

ONE!

TWO!

Richard Parker: Come on, Anna! Use your Timey Wimey powers to get out of there!

THREE!!!

DING DING DING!

Jimmy Turnbull calls for the bell and neither RIA Lockhart or Anna Daniels are moving.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the match by pinfall…. RIAAAAAAAA LOOOOOOCKHAAAAAAAART!

The crowd erupts in cheers as RIA slowly rolls off of Anna Daniels and looks up at the ceiling gasping for air as her “sister” does the same. The pair turn to look at one another for a brief moment before closing their eyes and slowly, painfully, roll away from one another to clear the ring.

Richard Parker: Somehow I don’t think we’ve seen the end of this rivalry, Nick, and while I would have loved to see RIA get put in her place – I can’t say I’m sorry about seeing these two in the ring again.

Nick Stuart: Only Time Lords will tell, Richard.

Richard Parker: Go to jail.

We cut to a commercial.

WATCH THE REPLAY [NIGHT 1 | NIGHT 2]

Colossus 2025.

Night One.

Atlanta, Georgia.

A second-generation wrestler stares into the mirror, her reflection surprising even her. The Second Coming Rose is ready for her match against the Lizard King himself, FLAMBERGE. One part of her soul braces for the annihilation that awaits her, as if she’s walking to the gallows, knowing the fate that awaits her. The other part yearns deep for the quiet resolve the evening will bring, a bit of relief even, as the finality of this festering chapter will close for good.

There is no turning back. Still, business is business, and there is only this path left to walk. Julien could have done things differently, but he chose an attack. He decided to take offense rather than exercise discretion. He chose war over diplomacy.

Could she have done things differently and backed off on going after Cecilworth Farthington? Sure, that option was always available to her. Could she have saved her wrath for Hank of all people? Some would. Except none of those things were put in place without Farthington maneuvering in the shadows.

To ignore that would mean sacrificing her beliefs, and no person in this company was worth that.

She examines the tape on her wrists, and her fingers start to peel at it slightly, anxiety and the moment getting to her. Her brown hair bounces off her shoulders as she shakes her head, trying to get her mind right for what was to come. She needs to lock in for the storm is coming, and she must be ready to meet it head-on.

After tonight, it would all end. No more vendettas, no more blood feuds. Her war with the Glueminati would cease, and her angst as it pertained to Cecilworth Farthington would conclude. Not the conclusion she thought, but enough was enough. The cost had left her dry. The final toll, losing a friend, has tipped the scales beyond bearing. The price too steep, the war too long.

Her boots echo against the concrete floor before she wrenches the locker room door open, the hinge fighting in protest. She’s got a bit of time before her match, but she wants to be there for Dawkins as he steps into his own lion’s den, going against Max Kael with nothing but his heart at his compass. Just like her, he’s leading with emotion instead of caution. Both drink from the same hose of courage. She knows at the end of the day no one is looking to step in for her tonight, none who want to stare fate and certainty square in the eyes.

Not when those eyes belong to the Lizard King.

As she turns the corner, the Argyle position in the distance, she collides into someone else standing at the corner, their eyes focused on the Argyle position. One there not because of idle curiosity, but also by the match coming up. His interest lies not in Bryan Dawkins. No, this one’s mind orbits Max Kael like a moon caught in a violent tide.

The figure turns. Many would flinch or retreat at the sight of this man. His aura is immaculate, filled with quiet dominance. Rose doesn’t blink, though. Her story has been touched by this flame before, and the final chapter has yet to be written, but she’ll be the one to write it. Not him.

Not the current Universal Champion.

Their eyes meet. Cecilworth Farthignton. It’s the closest either has been in the vicinity of one another in the two years she’s been in PRIME.

Flickers of idol curiosity pass his eyes, condemnation as sharp as glass in hers. Nine months ago, Farthington looms outside of the ring during a three-on-three match. Her mind was focused on what was in front of her when a voice cut through the noise.

‘Oi Rose, how’s yer da?’

The taunt from Atken was perfectly timed and surgically precise. That was followed up by Farthington telling Ivan that ‘it’s not our fault that her father’s brain cremated itself before the rest of his body’. She lost her focus, it cost them the match. All she wanted to do was charge out of the ring and wrap her hands around his throat.

To do so tonight would be suicide, leaving her long odds even longer. To do so would earn the ire of Lindsay Troy at a time when she didn’t need more on her plate. It wouldn’t give her the satisfaction she’s been chasing.

Farthington doesn’t move. Doens’t speak. To him, she’s been little more than background noise. She’s been waging a war against a ghost who forgot her name the moment he walked away.

He’d occupied so much of her mind while she occupied none of his.

It’s why she has to let it go, to move on. Because the singular focus wouldn’t hurt him, but hollow her out instead.

Thousands of words could be spilled between the two, words that would only serve to sharpen daggers and heighten tensions. Yet, what purpose would that serve when both have monumental matches on the horizon? Certainly, Farthington isn’t willing to risk anything ahead of defending his title.

She fights against every urge in her body and walks by him, her shoulder brushing his.

Farthington watches her go as he turns towards her, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Doubt? Intrigue? He senses something he can’t quite name. As his back turns, he misses out on the other set of eyes, watching in the shadows.

Those of a lizard, eyes slowly passing between Rose and Farthington, cold, quiet. Eyes that say: “Everyone will get what’s coming. Could be some day – could be soon.” They scurry off out of frame, along with the rest of the young Frenchman.

Colossus cuts to ringside.

Ancient, haggard old men encircle the ring, diligently hammering, welding, and ratcheting together the vile construct of steel, chain, and wire that is the Siberian steel cage. Their eyes are vacant and their faces are marked from countless years spent out in the frozen tundra. They are exceedingly old — old enough to have seen the old Union.

Richard Parker: Did PRIME hire Santa’s elves to be the ring crew?

Nick Stuart: I believe this lot was shipped in specially from deep within the Motherland, specifically to set up this cage.

Richard Parker: So I was right. Still, PRIME foots the bill for that, but can’t agree to my proposed 10% cut of merch sales? Couldn’t they save a few dimes by hiring a few local ham-and-eggers?

Nick Stuart: Did you not know, Rich? A Siberian steel cage can only be forged by actual Siberians.

Richard Parker: Ah.

Nick Stuart: Otherwise, it’s just a steel cage with extra gimmicks. To say differently would be in violation of international law, as laid out in the Geneva convention.

Richard Parker: I guess I learned something today.

Nick Stuart: Well that’s a first… let’s go Vince.

For once, the tenured PRIME ring announcer is not in the ring to make the introductions. He looks rather green in the gills as he watches the old Russian teamsters extend chains between the posts and unspool lines of razor wire across the top to form a net-like canopy.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen… the following contest is a SIBERIAN STEEL CAGE!

“RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

Vince Howard: As a disclaimer, PRIME would like to forewarn our fans the following events may be… a bit UNSETTLING to those of you in the audience with small children or weak stomachs!

The Siberian steel cage looms tall and resolute in all of its brutalist splendor. The bars are made of cold, blackened steel. The chains-for-ropes practically drip with rust. The barbed canopy glints under the arena lights.

Their work complete, the dusty Siberian teamsters file out, marching in two rows while chanting an old Russian work song.

The lights in Atlanta go out as the crowd lets out the traditional cheers of excitement. Those cheers quickly turn to boos as a single light on the stage shines down on Snark Darkly, this evening dressed in a tuxedo, a microphone in hand.

Snark Darkly: Ladies and gentlemen! Introducing my client… the Lord of Kaelsalvania, the Mayor of Arkham… the BLACK HEART of PRIME! Standing at Six-Foot-Four Inches and weighing in at Two-Hundred-Sixty-Five pounds… MAXIMILLIAN. WILHELM. KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEL!

The pillar of light around Snark blinks out, washing the stage in darkness once again. A heavy baseline beat belonging to “Human” by Rag’n’Bone Man begins to bump through the Mercedes Benz Stadium.

I’m only human
I’m only, I’m only
I’m only human, human

The stage lights back as we see Max Kael standing on stage with his arms outstretched in either direction. He’s wearing an all black suit with his Mayor sash drawn across his chest. A heavy black long coat with a fur collar hangs off his shoulders like a cape.

Maybe I’m foolish, maybe I’m blind
Thinkin’ I can see through this and see what’s behind
Got no way to prove it, so maybe I’m lyin’

Bentley the Pissboy wheels out Kai, both of them wearing shirts with the phrase “THIS IS BRYAN DAWKIN’S FAULT” crudely scrawled out on them. Both look miserable with Kai staring forward unblinking while the former Herald of Max Kael looks like he’s been crying. A lot.

But I’m only human after all
I’m only human after all
Don’t put your blame on me
Don’t put your blame on me (Oh)

The boos reign down on Max as he swaggers toward the Siberian Steel Cage, a smug expression on his face as he’s followed by Bentley pushing Kai. The Mayor of Arkham mouths the lyrics to the song, a sadistic shimmer glinting from his hateful eyes as he ignores the crowd and keeps his attention on the demented structure waiting for him.

Take a look in the mirror and what do you see?
Do you see it clearer or are you deceived
In what you believe? (Oh)

Reaching the walls of the cage, Max throws his shoulders back causing his long coat to fall to the ground. As the music continues Max touches the cage only to recoil from the intense cold the steel emanates. He giggles menacingly to himself and proceeds to circle the cage.

‘Cause I’m only human after all
You’re only human after all
Don’t put the blame on me
Don’t put your blame on me

Moving around the cage, Max strips away his black suit, letting each article of clothing fall to the ground as Bentley is forced to collect them. After a full circuit he is down to his traditional wrestling gear though his tights have artistic interpretations of Kai and Nico on either leg, clearly designed to further taunt his opponent in this long awaited grudge match.

(Oh) Some people got the real problems
(Oh) Some people out of luck
(Oh) Some people think I can solve them
(Oh) Lord heavens above (Oh)

Max enters the cage, sliding between the chain ropes as he makes his way to the center of the ring. He begins to engage in a silly, excited little dance in the center of the ring, his arms flailing to either side as he kinda stomps in place. It’s not as bad as the Elaine Dance, not nearly as good as a Taylor Swift background dancer.

I’m only human after all
I’m only human after all
Don’t put the blame on me
Don’t put the blame on me

The music finally fades allowing the angry, hateful boos of the Atlanta crowd to break through. Max merely smirks at the jeers and screams, slithering from the center of the ring to coil up in the far corner, looking back up the stage for the arrival of his opponent. Outside the ring, Bentley finds a safe corner to park Kai before taking a seat himself.

The lights die all at once.

Mercedes-Benz Stadium drops into a cavernous black, the kind of darkness that feels intentional. The crowd swells, not cheering, not booing—waiting.

A single, low church bell tolls.

Orange embers flicker onto the giant Colossus screens, drifting downward like ash from a dying fire.

A heartbeat.

A breath.

And then—KALEO’s voice cuts through the void.

Father tell me…
Do we get what we deserve…?

A lone amber spotlight blooms at the top of the ramp.

Smoke rolls.

Metal groans.

The stage begins to rumble—slow at first, then violently—until a hulking silhouette forces its way into the light.

It’s Zarya.

The T-72A tank grinds forward, battered, olive paint faded to near-black under the lights. The white Cyrillic ЗАРЯ glows like a ghost across her turret. Her engine purrs—deep, ancient, hungry.

The crowd erupts in disbelief.

Nick Stuart: OH MY GOD… THAT’S ZARYA! That’s Stanislav’s T-72! Dawkins has brought THE tank to Colossus!

Richard Parker: Nick, who do you think insures something like this?

Nick Stuart: I’ve been told Alexei Ruslan has quite the deep pockets these days – maybe he’s behind it?

Zarya rolls to a stop at the center of the stage, illuminated like some war monument dragged out of retirement for one final battle. Her turret is angled toward the ring as if already choosing a target.

The hatch creaks open.

And Bryan Dawkins rises into view.

No bright tights.

No bruhtastic grin.

No neon Hawaiian colors.

Tonight, he’s all severity: Red Army fatigue pants, black combat boots, and forearms and fists wrapped tightly in black tape. His posture is rigid, eyes fixed on the ring, jaw set like stone.

Nick Stuart: This is not the man who came back to PRIME two years ago. This is someone forged in loss…in war…in obsession.

Richard Parker: He looks like he’s walking into a funeral, Nick. And I’m not sure if he’s the mourner—or the cause.

Dawkins stands fully atop Zarya, letting the moment simmer.

The camera cuts to the ring.

Max Kael stands inside the Siberian Steel Cage, laughing openly at the display. His arms are spread like he’s welcoming his favorite toy back home.

The sight of Max punches the air from Dawkins’ lungs—but only for a moment. He forces it down and climbs off the tank and begins his slow walk down the ramp.

No pyro.

No theatrics.

Just the weight of a year on his shoulders.

The music swells.

Way down we go…
Way down we go…

Zarya sits behind him like an omen. Dawkins doesn’t look back. His boots strike the steel ramp with the rhythm of inevitability.

Halfway down, he stops.

The crowd quiets again.

He looks at The Herald.

At Kai.

At Max.

At the cage.

His expression hardens.

He resumes the walk.

Nick Stuart: He’s not sprinting. He’s not posing. He’s walking like a man who already knows the price of what he’s about to endure—and has accepted it.

Richard Parker: Nick…he put his son on the line. That cage isn’t for a match. It’s for an execution.

Dawkins reaches ringside. The Siberian Steel Cage looms—cold iron bars, steel chains in place of ring ropes, and a roof laced with barbed wire that glints beneath the lights.

He climbs the steps slowly.

Enters the ring without looking away from Max.

The cage door swings shut behind him—

KA-THUNK

The sound echoes like a death sentence.

Nick Stuart: The door is shut… and locked. Once that steel closes, there is no escape.

Richard Parker: No escape for Max. No escape for Dawkins. No escape for ANYBODY. This isn’t gonna end well for someone.

Dawkins steps to the center of the ring.

Max’s smile widens.

Elvis Nixon, snug in his protective suit, looks anxiously between both opponents, who look ready to spring forth like lions loosed from cages. He isn’t eager to keep them waiting any longer, quickly giving the signal to the timekeeper, who raps his hammer on an oversized Russian Orthodox bell.

ДИН ДИН

Nick Stuart: Dawkins. Kael. Siberian Steel Cage. For Kai. For Nico. For everything.

Richard Parker: Ladies and gentlemen… welcome to the end of the world.

And Bryan Dawkins takes his first step toward Max Kael. Likewise, Kael comes forward. Then without warning, they pounce at each other with the snap speed of track runners coming off the line at the sound of the gun,

Nick Stuart: Here we go!

There is no standard collar-and-elbow to kick things off. Both men immediately go for each other’s throats. Dancing a violent waltz across the ring, they throttle and shake and poke and snarl and curse like primitive wildmen fighting over a watering hole.

Nick Stuart: Look at this savagery! These men are trying to strangle the life out of each other!

Dawkins reaches down and hooks a leg to take the Mayor of Arkham off his base. Hopping on a single foot, Max instead leans his weight over and takes the both of them into the chains.

Richard Parker: Get ‘im, Max!

Kael turns and presses Dawkins against the unforgiving metal links and uses them for leverage. Relentlessly, he bends the former Flyin’ Hawaiian back over the chains, hands squeezing at his windpipe to choke the life out of him.

Nick Stuart: We might see a murder happen in that cage with the way this is going!

Richard Parker: Actually, it’d be considered suicide considering Bryan Dawkins BROUGHT THIS ON HIMSELF!

Consumed by rage, Dawkins finds his strength and pushes back, pivoting around and switching places with Max. He goes a step further by stepping through the chains and bringing Kael’s thrown down across the top set of steel links with a three-quarter nelson.

Nick Stuart: Good thing PRIME cleared this with the State of Georgia Athletic Commission!

Richard Parker: Ooh, I HATE those bureaucratic tightwads!

The fans are solidly behind Dawkins, who uses all of his weight to pull the Mayor of Arkham down across the chain. Max kicks his legs in the fight to free himself, his face slowly turning a shade of blue. Out of desperation, he punches Dawkins straight in the balls.

Nick Stuart: OOH! Kaels takes a shot right to the mayoral jewels! But

Richard Parker: Anything goes in the Siberian steel cage, bay-bee! Bryan knew what he was signing up for when he proposed this match!

Dawkins staggers back in pain, but quickly rallies and comes back at Kael to stay on him. Max instead reaches up and rakes his eyes to leave him reeling once more. Clutching his face, Bryan is defenseless as Kael grabs him by the head and whips him over the chains and into the steel cage bars!

CLANK!!

Nick Stuart: FACE-FIRST into the cold, unforgiving steel goes Bryan Dawkins!

Richard Parker: Couldn’t happen to a worse guy!

Nick Stuart: Max has him by the hair AGAIN…

CLANK!!

Nick Stuart: BACK into the cage wall goes Dawkins! And Bryan is down after that!

The Black Heart of PRIME finally buys himself a minute to rub his neck and catch his breath while Dawkins writhes on the mat. Once he’s collected himself, Max begins with the heavy stomps, targeting Bryan’s lower back, shoulders, and limbs.

Nick Stuart: Max standing tall, giving it to Bryan Dawkins now… we knew it was going to be a knock-out, drag-down, blood and guts donnybrook of a match, and thus far it’s lived up to expectations!

Bryan writhes and rolls and does everything to fight through the pain and keep moving, but the Mayor Arkham uses his boots to methodically chip away at him like a cat playing with its feud.

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Nick Stuart: These fans are getting hot at Max Kael right now!

Richard Parker: Of course they’re hot! They’re in Atlanta!

Nick Stuart: Right… a balmy fifty degrees. In December.

Dawkins grits his teeth and boils with rage, forcing himself up to his hands and knees. Max kicks him in the ribs to send him rolling. Bryan again pushes himself up. The Mayor of Arkham again boots him in the side.

Only this time, Dawkins pops right up to his feet and begins swinging back at the unsuspecting Max Kael!

“RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

Nick Stuart: AND BRYAN DAWKINS IS FIRING RIGHT BACK!

Richard Parker: What?! HOW!? He was just on the mat in absolute agony a second ago!

Nick Stuart: The pain doesn’t drown out the FURY in Bryan Dawkins, unloading a full year of pent up rage and emotions on this monster

Richard Parker: Nick, did you not read the t-shirt?

Everyone in Atlanta is cheering on Bryan Dawkins as peppers Kael with stiff, close-fisted jabs. Everyone, that is, except for Kai, who continues to stare blankly in her wheelchair on the outside. Bentley, meanwhile, looks anxiously between her and the brawl in the cage.

Richard Parker: All this pent up anger, and the person he’s supposedly fighting for clearly doesn’t even care!

Nick Stuart: I can’t imagine what sick and twisted things Kael did to her to leave her in that state…

Richard Parker: He did absolutely nothing of the sort, Nick! The man is a perfect gentlemen!

Nick Stuart: Yeah, so was Dracula…

Bryan’s flurry of fists gets Kael backpedaling on rubber legs. When there’s nowhere left for him to go, Dawkins seizes him by the head and sends him running uncontrollably toward the cage wall.

With the chains having no give whatsoever, they nearly cut him in half at the waist as he pitches it over and crashes into the steel bars!

CLASSHH!!

Richard Parker: What an absolute butcher, doing this to an elected official!

Nick Stuart: Are you forgetting who we’re talking about here?

Kael barely catches the apron before falling into the narrow gap between the cage and the ring. Dawkins marches over, pulls up the middle chain to create a gap, and relentlessly stomps his head into the cage wall over and over!

CLANK! CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!

Nick Stuart: He’s kicking Max Kael’s head up against those parts like trying to stomp a rotten melon!

Richard Parker: That melon ain’t rotten, Nick, but your sick sense of humor certainly is! The Mayor of Arkham is being flagrantly assaulted in there!

Nick Stuart: He knew what he signed up for when he agreed to the match, partner!

Richard Parker: Hey, that’s not far! I don’t throw things back in your face like that!

Dawkins relents only to reach down and grab Kael by the hair to drag him back through the chains and into the cage. A trail of blood is noticeably dripping from Max’s nose, and the side of his face has turned red and raw. Before he can push himself back up, Bryan launches himself onto his back and wraps up his head.

Nick Stuart: Dawkins with the REAR NAKED CHOKE!

Richard Parker: No! It’s too early!

Realizing he has precious little time at his disposal to get out of this predicament, which is why he immediately rears up and runs backwards into the nearest corner, smashing Dawkins’ body up against the unprotected steel post.

Nick Stuart: OOH! Bryan gets driven hard back-first into that exposed ringpost!

Richard Parker: No padded turnbuckles to soften the blow in this one!

Nick Stuart: Max Kael may have now found himself a window to turn the tables on Bryan Dawkins!

The moment Bryan’s grip falters, Kael slips free from the choke, spins, and knees Dawkins in the midsection to double him over. A quick gutwrench suplex to follow through brings him the rest of the way to the canvas. While he’s down there, Max encompasses his face with his hand and squeezes it in his vice-like grip.

Nick Stuart: Max Kael with the MONKEY’S PAW!

Legs kicking in pain, Bryan grabs Max by the wrist and tries to force his hand away. Official Elvis Nixon then notices Dawkins’ shoulders on the mat, and slides in to make the count.ONE!TWO!And KAEL pulls the former Flyin’ Hawaiian up, shaking his head!

Nick Stuart: Max Kael broke his own count!

Richard Parker: There’s still so much more punishment to give! This goof has been a pain in his ass almost all year!

With the Iron Claw still clutched in place, the Black Heart of PRIME pulls Dawkins back up to his feet. Bryan attempts to fight back with a couple shots to Kael’s midsection, only for the Mayor of Arkham to violently shove him back over the chains!

CLASSHH!!

Before Dawkins can come off the cage wall, Max hurries over and grabs him by the head to drag his face across the metal bars!

Nick Stuart: OOH MY! We knew it was going to get brutal, and Max Kael is taking us there! Just RAKING the face of Bryan Dawkins against the steel cage wall!

Richard Parker: When it’s chain-linked, it’s like a cheese grater! Getting dragged across those thick iron bars is like getting your face shoved into a toolbox!

Kael whips Dawkins back to the canvas, and hovers over him like a vulture, beckoning him to get back up. Dawkins touches his forehead and draws his hand back to see that he’s been busted open. His fist balls up as his rage renews itself…

Nick Stuart: Dawkins willing himself back to his FEET–

Dawkins SWINGS at Kael, only for the Mayor of Prime to hop well out of range and mockingly cackle. Bryan swings again with similar results. Kael dodges a third, and finally counters with a body blow that doubles Bryan over. Max wastes no time hooking the arms and lifting him into a devastating Tiger Driver that silences the stadium.

Nick Stuart: WEAPON of MAX DESTRUCTION! And Kael goes for the cover! Could that be it?!ONE!TWO!DAWKINS kicks out!

Richard Parker: He’s only punishing himself at this point!

Dawkins writhes on the mat, discombobulated and in crippling pain, but still fighting with everything he’s got. But the sinister smile etched on Kael’s face spells doom for the former Alias Champion. The Black Heart of PRIME stands over Dawkins, gloating over his handiwork in sick delight while Bryan struggles and suffers.

Nick Stuart: Max Kael is in full control right now! Bryan Dawkins does not want to be in this position!

Richard Parker: Should have thought of that before going after one of the most dangerous men in wrestling!

Nick Stuart: Kael finally bringing Dawkins back to his feet… what does he have planned now? Going behind… COBRA CLUTCH… and THE SUPLEX THAT BROKE TIME!!

Richard Parker: And THAT’S for the news van!

Dawkins ragdolls across the ring off the impact and lies motionless in a heap. Rising back up, Kael directs his crazed grin to the fans and extends his arms into a Christ pose. They react almost exactly as you’d expect.

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Nick Stuart: Max Kael showing quite a bit of overconfidence now that he has the upper hand!

Richard Parker: We all know how this is going to end up, Nick! Now he’s ready to pick the wings off this pesky FLY… in’ Hawaiian.

Nick Stuart: Dawkins hasn’t moved from his place on the mat, and now Max sizes him up… ARKHAM HELLBOW dropped right across the back of the head! Rolls him over and hooks the leg!ONE!TWO!THR–NO!! Bryan Dawkins REFUSES to go down!

Richard Parker: No big deal! I guarantee that Max wants nothing more than to drag this out for as long as it takes!

The kickout only causes Max to shake his head and chuckle. He once more pulls Dawkins off the canvas then bends over into a low waistlock. Then, using all of his strength, he ROCKETS Bryan STRAIGHT UP–

Nick Stuart: GOOD GOD, NO!!

–and DRIVES his head and shoulders into the mesh canopy of razor wire hanging overhead!

Nick Stuart: Max just THEW DAWKINS UP into that CEILING of BARBED WIRE! And Dawkins is CAUGHT IN THE WIRE!

Richard Parker: Eww…

The wire canopy bows inward from Dawkins’s weight. The former Flyin’ Hawaiian reaches up and grabs the wire with his taped-up hands to keep his ensnared head from being pulled off. His kicking feet hang a good foot over the mat. Trails of blood begin to drip down his chest from the litany of cuts now formed on his face, head, and shoulders.

Once more Kael holds out his arms and LAUGHS at his handiwork.

Nick Stuart: This is absolutely sickening to watch!

Richard Parker: If it’s too much for you, Nick, I hear they have Bluey on back in the lounge! Milk and cookies too!

Nick Stuart: I’m fine, Richard… though the same can’t be said of Bryan Dawkins right now!

Max goes to the end of the ring and calls for Kai’s attention.

Max Kael: LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT THIS WORTHLESS SPERM DONATOR!! You think he can PROTECT YOUR SON?!

Kai’s face remains vacant and lifeless, staring at a point somewhere a thousand miles away. Kael points to Bentley standing beside her and walks back to where Dawkins continues to hang from the wire canopy.

Max Kael: IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED, PISSBOY?! IS THIS THE BRYAN DAWKINS YOU BELIEVE IN!?

He proceeds to punch at the exposed ribs like Balboa going after a hanging side of beef. Dawkins’ hanging body jerks wildly with every strike.

Max Kael: I WOULDN’T EVEN FEED THIS WORTHLESS SACK OF SHIT TO THE BOLOGNESE BULL!!

Dawkins’ LEGS suddenly curl up and scissor Max’s head. Instantly, the murderous grin disappears.

Richard Parker: WHAT THE–?!

“RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

Nick Stuart: DAWKINS IS NOT OUT OF THIS!! Even with his HEAD caught in a net of RAZOR WIRE, he’s FIGHTING ON!

Max struggles to free himself as Dawkins’ legs squeeze his head without remorse. Kael gasps for air and pounds on Bryan’s thighs, but it’s no use. Then, using impressive upper body strength, Dawkins uses his legs to LIFT Max. Amazingly, the Mayor of Arkham’s feet leave the mat.

Nick Stuart: Look at the STRENGTH of Bryan Dawkins!

Then, a bolt snaps.

And the whole thing comes crashing down.

Nick Stuart: GOOD GOD, THEY JUST BROUGHT THAT RAZOR WIRE CEILING DOWN ON TOP OF THEM!

“HO-LY-SHIT!! HO-LY-SHIT!! HO-LY-SHIT!! HO-LY-SHIT!! HO-LY-SHIT!! HO-LY-SHIT!! HO-LY-SHIT!!”

Elvis Nixon covers his head and dives into a corner to save himself. Half of the bolts holding the wire in place have snapped, leaving razor-sharp strands strewn across half the ring. Beneath the mess, the bodies of Dawkins and Kael trash around in an effort to free themselves of the hazardous webbing.

Richard Parker: Those Siberian cage gnomes aren’t going to like that!

Nick Stuart: I don’t think it was built to support that much weight! The point is to keep people from LEAVING the cage!

Richard Parker: Well, now’s Bryan Dawkins’ chance to run while he still can!

Unfortunately for Richard, Dawkins has no intentions of doing any such thing. Pulling out strands of wire stuck to his back, arms, and shoulders, he slowly crawls his way over to one of the posts. Max crawls in the other direction, angrily pulling his own cloak of wire off his shoulders.

Nick Stuart: What’s Dawkins doing?

Richard Parker: Whatever it is, it can’t certainly be legal!

Nick Stuart: He’s unfastening one of the chains from that post!

Richard Parker: Jeez, these guys are going to take this whole cage apart!

Unhooking the chain, Bryan walks the length of the ring while wrapping it around his hand until he gets into the next post it’s attached to. Consequently, it also happens to be the one Max is using to pull himself to his feet. The Mayor of Arkham is bleeding mess as he gets up, but as soon as he turns around, he’s met with a faceful of heavy steel chainlinks!

Nick Stuart: OOH! Dawkins nearly KNOCKS Kael’s head off with that CHAIN-COVERED FIST!

Kael drops back into the mess of wire littering the ring. Dawkins unlatches the other end of the chain to fully free it, then pounces on Kael into a mount, where he proceeds to waylay his face with his metal chain-encased fist! Max can do nothing but stare in agape astonishment as BLOW after HEAVY BLOW rocks his forehead!

“RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

Nick Stuart: And now it’s DAWKINS’ TURN to lay out some punishment!

Richard Parker: I think I saw a metal tooth fly out into the crowd just now!

Out of desperation, Max reaches over, grabs a few random strands of razor wire, and slashes Dawkins across the face! Bryan recoils in pain… and goes right back to punching away!

Nick Stuart: Dawkins, just shrugging off the razor wire at this point! He is fully gone into the savage, unforgiving spirit of this Siberian Steel Cage!

Richard Parker: The man is clearly unhinged, Nick! He’s in no way fit to be a father, if you ask me!

Nick Stuart: Oh, like you would know?

Richard Parker: …well, there was that waitress back in ‘93 in that diner outside of El Paso…

Kael finally resorts to the ol’ reliable knee-to-groin. After FIVE successive shots to the jewels, Dawkins finally rolls off of Kael, clutching himself. Then, like a corpse returning to life, Max Kael sits up, giving the camera a good look at the souvenir Dawkins left him with.

Nick Stuart: OH MY GOD!

Richard Parker: THAT is DISGUSTING!

The wound of Max Kael’s head is a gash beginning on his scalp, trailing at an angle down the middle of his forehead and between his eyes and ending on his right cheek. It oozes blood, covering the Mayor of Arkham’s face in profoundly deep red.

Despite this, Kael is grinning ear to ear, maddeningly wide eyes peeking out through the crimson mask to create an unbelievably horrific image.

Nick Stuart: That’s the stuff of nightmares, partner!

Richard Parker: The PRIME Medical Staff better get the stapler ready for when Max gets back there!

Nick Stuart: If there’s anything left of him!

Richard Parker: Well maybe they’ll need a BUCKET for Comrade Pineapple!

A murderous sneer forms on Max’s face as he pulls himself to his feet, wrapping razor wire around both of his fists. After catching his breath, Dawkins also fights back to his feet.

Nick Stuart: These two are absolutely INSANE for going through with this!

The two of them immediately begin trading blows in the center of the ring! Splashes of blood fly with every hit, turning the canvas into a modern art piece.

Nick Stuart: WHAT A BATTLE! These two are going POUND FOR POUND inside the cage! Neither one of them seem to be registering pain at this point!

Attrition takes its toll as the shots begin to slow in frequency. Eventually, Max ducks a wide right hook from Dawkins and lifts him up from behind.

Nick Stuart: BLUE THUNDER BOMB into the RAZOR WIRE! Kael hooks the leg!ONE!!TWO!!THR–KICKOUT!!

Both competitors roll apart and scramble back to their feet Dawkins catches an intended kick to the gut at the last second and turns it into a dragon screw!

Richard Parker: AAHH!!

Nick Stuart: Down goes Kael again, who is an absolute bleeding mess at this point… and now Bryan Dawkins pulls him back up using the WIRE still wrapped around him! GOOD GOD!

With one hand grabbing the hair and the other grabbing the waistband, Dawkins gets a running start and TORPEDOS Max through the chains and into the cage wall!

CLASSHH!!

“RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

Nick Stuart: INTO the STEEL goes KAEL!!

Dawkins pulls him back into the ring…

…and does it again.

CLASSHH!!

“RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

Richard Parker: This is INHUMAN!

Dawkins pulls Max back into the ring again and stands him up. Kael staggers, bleeding and staring in a vacant stupor. The words “FINISH HIM” practically flash across the string right before the former Flyin’ Hawaiian springs forward and nearly decapitates him with a bicycle kick!

“RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

Nick Stuart: KATYUSHA!! KATYUSHA!! DOWN GOES KAEL!! DAWKINS WITH THE COVER!ONE!!TWO!!THREE–NOOO, KAEL POPS THE SHOULDER UP!!

Richard Parker: My heart jumped there for a moment!

Nick Stuart: Bryan Dawkins is within grasp of victory over Max Kael, with the guardianship of his son on the line!

Richard Parker: Don’t bet on it, Nick! You see Dawkins in control, but he’s only a visitor to this world! But the Black Heart of PRIME lives in this world! This is every day for him!

Dawkins rolls Max over, interlocking his hands and looking for the D’Arce Choke…

…but before he can cinch it in, the Mayor of Arkham slips free!

Nick Stuart: Couldn’t get the Garrota!

In a flash, Max grabs a few strands of razor wire and GARROTES Dawkins around the neck!

Richard Parker: How about THAT one!

Nick Stuart: My God, HE’S STRANGLING HIM WITH THAT RAZOR WIRE!

Dawkins gasps for air as the wire buries itself into his neck and seals his windpipe! Sadistically, Max forces a knee into his back and pushes him forward! When Bryan tries to free himself, Kael forces him face first into the steel corner post!

Nick Stuart: DAWKINS HITS THE POST… and Max Kael ROLLS HIM BACK ONTO HIS SHOULDERS!

Richard Parker: YES!

Nick Stuart: NO! KAELSYLVANIA BURNING! KAELSYLVANIA BURNING! HE COULD HAVE BROKEN BRYAN DAWKINS’ NECK!

Richard Parker: NO, NICK! Bryan Dawkins would have broken his OWN neck! HE BROUGHT THIS ON HIMSELF!

Nick Stuart: WOULD YOU SHUT UP?!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

The Mayor of Arkham, blood-spattered and breathing deep, slowly gets back to his feet. Elvis Nixon begs him to make the cover to end this insanity. Instead, Max Kael’s evil smile returns…

Nick Stuart: What is that SICK MONSTER plotting NOW? He has the chance to FINISH THIS!

Richard Parker: It IS finished, Nick! But HE’S not!

Kael grabs the wire still strewn around Dawkins’ neck and drags him across the ring. Spotting a small protrusion sticking out of the top of the cage wall, the grin appears to widen.

Nick Stuart: He can’t possibly be thinking this!

Max THROWS the extra slack of wire up to the top of the cage wall, successfully hooking it around the protruding rod!

He starts pulling down…

Dawkins begins going up!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Nick Stuart: HE’S HANGING BRYAN DAWKINS!! HE’S HANGING BRYAN DAWKINS ACROSS THE TOP OF THE CAGE!!

Max is cackling mad as he continues to pull. Bryan’s feet leave the mat as he weakly paws at the wire noose choking the life out of him. His face would be purple, if it could be seen through the torrents of blood.

Richard Parker: Hang ‘em out to dry, Mr. Mayor!

Nick Stuart: This is DISGUSTING! He’s going to KILL HIM in there!

Kael ties off the wire around a nearby chain and leaves Dawkins suspended there, hanging by his neck against the cage wall. Once more, he holds out his arms and gloats to the capacity crowd filling the stadium.

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Max Kael: LOOK UPON HIM!!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Max Kael: THE BRYAN DAWKINS!!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

The Black Heart of PRIME turns his sneering, wicked grin back to the mother of his opponent’s child. Outside the cage at ringside, Kai continues to stare at nothing.

Max Kael: LOOK UPON HIM!!

Kael runs over to the cage wall, staring intensely back at the woman he’s kept under constant torment for so long.

Max Kael: I!! SAID!! LOOK!! UPON!! HIM!!

Then, something happens that nobody expects.

Kai BLINKS…

Richard Parker: HUH??

…and STANDS UP out of the wheelchair!

Max Kael: HOW–?!

Max’s face contorts in sudden confusion. But before he can react, Kai throws a liquid into his face from a jug she’s kept hidden under the blanket.

A PISS jug, to be exact.

“RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

Nick Stuart: KAI MAKANA JUST THREW PISS INTO MAX’S EYES!! AND I THINK IT WAS HIS PISS!

Kael goes down, clawing at his face as though his piss were made of sulphuric acid.

Richard Parker: OH THE IRONY!! I THOUGHT SHE WAS CATATONIC!! WHAT IS SHE DOING UP, MOVING AROUND?!

Nick Stuart: It was ALL A RUSE… and LOOK UP THERE, ON THE CAGE WALL!

During the confusion, BENTLEY has climbed up the cage wall where Bryan Dawkins continues to hang, gasping for air. The camera zooms in on the tool in the former Herald’s hands…

Nick Stuart: HE’S GOT THE WIRE CUTTERS!

Richard Parker: NO!! YOU TRAITOR!

Bentley reaches over the lip of the cage wall, careful to avoid the remaining strands of razor wire, and brings the cutters to the thread holding Dawkins…

snip.

Dawkins COLLAPSES back into the ring!

“RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

Nick Stuart: UNBELIEVABLE! Max Kael has been BETRAYED by his own former Herald!

Richard Parker: No good PISSBOY! You’re a DISGRACE to the Farthington Name!

Bryan Dawkins is gasping for air and nearly bled dry, but an untold power compels him back to his feet. He tears off the noose of wire and quickly puts it around the head of the staggering, red-eyed Max Kael.

Nick Stuart: NOW THE TABLES HAVE TURNED!

Richard Parker: Hang on! The man’s been blinded by his own acidic PISS!

Dawkins yanks on the cord like starting up the lawnmower from hell. Max is pulled uncontrollably by the neck back into the cage wall!

CLASSHH!!

Nick Stuart: INTO THE CAGE… and Kael gets YANKED BACK INTO A RED SCARE!! RED SCARE!! SENDING A MESSAGE TO IVAN STANISLAV!

Max hits the mat and stays there. Dawkins legs collapse out from under him from exhaustion, dashing any hopes of a quick pin to follow it up.

Running out of blood, time, and options, he crawls over to the edge of the ring, pulls himself through the chains, and begins climbing up the cage wall!

“RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

Nick Stuart: WHERE… IS… BRYAN… DAWKINS… GOING?!?

Slow and steady, Dawkins ascends the wall. Halfway up, he slips, sending a ripple of panic through the crowd. But he maintains his grip, and keeps climbing.

Richard Parker: He’s RUNNING AWAY! He’s HAD ENOUGH!

Nick Stuart: Something tells me that’s not the case, partner! Bryan Dawkins is climbing to the VERY TOP of the CAGE!!

Dawkins reaches the top, finding a corner to pull himself up the rest of the way and perch his feet…

…and then turns back toward the center of the ring.

Nick Stuart: NO…

Several feet below, the man who has symbolized his hate for an entire year lays splayed out, bleeding, broken, and defeated.

But not dead…

Nick Stuart: NO…

The Hawaiian flies.

“BRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHH!!!!”

SLAAMMB!!

Nick Stuart: HAWAIIAN HANGOVER!! HAAWAAIIAAN HAAANGOOOVEEEERRRRRRRR!!! VINTAGE BRYAN DAWKINS OFF THE TOP OF THE CAGE!!

“HO-LY-SHIT!! HO-LY-SHIT!! HO-LY-SHIT!! HO-LY-SHIT!! HO-LY-SHIT!! HO-LY-SHIT!! HO-LY-SHIT!!”

Nick Stuart: HE HOOKS THE LEG! THIS HAS TO BE IT!

ONE!!

TWO!!

THREE!!!

ДИН ДИН ДИН

The music hits. The crowd roars. Blood and victorious, Bryan Dawkins is helped to his feet by Nixon. He almost immediately keels over, clutching his ribs, but has the wherewithal to stay on his feet to allow the ref to raise his arm in triumph.

Outside the blood-spattered Siberian Steel Cage, Kai is weeping. So is Bentley. For both of them, this nightmare is finally over.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the WINNER of the match, by PINFALL…

BRRRYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAANNNN DDDDAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWKKKIIIIIIIIINNNNSSS!!!!!

Nick Stuart: What a bloody, insane battle we just witnessed! But in the end, Bryan Dawkins managed to fight to a resolution to this year of madness that Max Kael has brought down on his family!

Richard Parker: I pity that kid of his! I really do!

Nick Stuart: Such a hard-fought, emotional victory for Bryan Dawkins! He had to go through HELL to get it, but for every drop of blood he lost tonight, for every scar he’ll carry for the remainder of his years, he’ll know that it was ALL worth this moment of liberation!

Richard Parker: Liberation? He’s still a slave to the Red Army, Nick!

Nick Stuart: But maybe not for much longer… and as for Max Kael? Well… after tonight, someone over in Arkham might want to consider firing up the machine to pump out a new mayor! I don’t know if this one can be fixed after what he just went through!

The cage door comes open. Snark Darkly hurries in to check on Max, who remains lying on his back, eyes wide and staring up into the lights.

Dawkins limps out of the cage, somehow still in one piece. The first person to meet him at ringside is Kai. After everything the two of them have been through, they immediately come together in an emotional embrace.

Nick Stuart: A sight that truly warms the heart! This is what wrestling’s about!

Richard Parker: You think he could have had the decency to take a shower first? He’s getting blood all over her clothes!

Amidst the celebration, Zarya commemorates the moment by firing from her cannon a plume of red and yellow confetti over the crowd.

BOOMM!!

The fans cheer, and everyone is happy.

Everyone… but Max.

We cut to a commercial.

NIGHT TWO!

“WHEN MY BACK’S TO THE WALLLLL!!!”

I!!

WILL!!

CON!!

QUER!!

With a mic in hand and a shit-eating grin on his face, The Event Horizon saunters out into the stage in his usual black attire, arms spread wide. Music thundering, flash bulbs flashing. PRIME Faithful booing, Himbos cheering.

Nick Stuart: Oh lovely, a surprise in-ring appearance from Home Run Hayes in what I’m sure will be an insightful and educational moment for all of us.

Richard Parker: And it’s exactly what we need ahead of his match with Nate Colton tomorrow night, Nick! Let’s hear what he has to say!

It’s a short display from Hayes as he climbs into the ring. He cups his hand to his ear, smiling behind his ‘stache and nodding along with the varied responses. The music fades off shortly, and Hayes takes an extra beat before addressing the Colossus crowd.

Hayes Hanlon: Is everyone having fun yet?

A pause, shared by a murmur from the many thousands.

Hayes Hanlon: Has everyone enjoyed this bLoCkBuStEr so far? Yeah? Big fans of watching TAL’s flacid-ass try to flail all over the ring against Freeman? Over the moon for Blaze and gasp Steve Lemieux??? Enthralled by our girls slapping each other around for a bit? Is this what you wanted at Colossus?

BOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nick Stuart: Classy as always. The performances tonight have been nothing short of top-tier!

Richard Parker: Shhhh! Listen!

Hayes Hanlon: That right? We’re just loving have our intelligence insulted, huh?

Another round of disapproval, and a smirk from the Event Horizon.

Hayes Hanlon: Well don’t you worry! That’s why I’m here. To give you a quick break. To give you something to actually pay attention to before my man FLAMBO sends Rose packing. Finally. Once and for all. And hopefully save us all from…whatever we’ve been watching so far.

Further boos and disdain from the arena’s patrons.

Hayes Hanlon: And speaking of the minor leagues…

Hanlon twirls the mic with a sneer before opening his palm to the ramp.

Hayes Hanlon: Give it up, once again, for Lindsay Troy for doing her very BEST to continue pissing all over the good name of PRIME. Her latest brilliant idea?

He shakes his head in disgust.

Hayes Hanlon: A joint show. With DEFIANCE.

The boos are certainly directed at The Event Horizon, though he nods in agreement.

Hayes Hanlon: Yes! That’s the BEST use of our time, isn’t it Lindsay? Let’s put our resources into wading around the frickin’ mud! Let’s step up to the plate with a bunch of B-Leaguers. From a place where apparently no one is allowed to sit with each other. A collection of-

And then, a piano.

And Hayes shuts up for a moment.

“The Entertainer” by turn of the century ragtime pianist Scott Joplin

The reaction from the fans in the arena at first is stunned silence…

Richard Parker: Oh my God…

Nick Stuart: It can’t be… can it?!

Stunned silence that is until a VERY recognizable wide frame dressed in a brown and grey pinstripe three piece suit slowly stomps out of the entrance tunnel and out onto the stage and the retractable roof of Mercedes-Benz Stadium is nearly blown off its giant hinges. The man who in the eyes of many of DEFIANCE’s most Faithful set the pace and sketched out the blueprint of DEF itself.*RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!*Two time FIST of DEFIANCE. DEF Hall of Famer. The Original DEFIANT.

Hayes Hanlon does his best to bite back the shocked look on his face as none other than the Bombastic Bronson Box glares down at him from the stage. The sight of this dyed in the wool DEFIANCE superstar standing on a PRIME stage under a PRIME logo on one of the biggest PRIME shows of the year is truly a sight to behold. And by the sustained roar from this packed PRIME crowd, there’s clearly more than a few “Faithful” tucked away in attendance tonight.

Richard Parker: I’m looking for the appropriate words, but they just aren’t coming to me.

Nick Stuart: There was some speculation if Bronson Box would even be participating in the PRIME / DEFIANCE supershow coming up next month.

Richard Parker: I think we might have an answer to that quandary here right quick, Nick.The Wargod takes a moment to straighten his tie and lapels and look out over the monstrous crowd here in Atlanta. He brings the microphone to his mouth…

Hayes Hanlon: Who. In the blue hell. Are you?

To his credit, Boxer stands quietly, despite Hanlon’s attempt to run his promotion down and diminish his presence.

Bronson Box: If you’re quite done crashin’ out in front of the world boy’o, I have a few things I’d like to get off my chest before that shrill, prick boss of yer’s gets tired of lookin’ at my ugly mug on her big bloody show.

He starts slowly making his way down the long ramp as he continues to talk.

Bronson Box: But this isn’t about her. Much as I’d love to trash Troy here in her own house, that’s not the point o’ me comin’ out here tonight. Not the main point anyway, mind you. I’ll take any opportunity to make Lindsay Troy’s life even the slightest bit more difficult. I take it you and I might share that passtime. This show that’s comin’ up… this JOINT show. I’m going to tell you all the God’s honest truth. I originally didn’t want any blasted part of it. The very idea of workin’ PRIME sort of…

He reaches the ringsteps and starts his ascent.

Bronson Box: … turned my stomach a bit, to tell you the truth.

Some boos from the crowd at that comment. A reaction that brings a crooked smile to Bronson’s gnarled face. He pauses at the top of the ring steps.

Bronson Box: Aye, there we are.

Before finally hooking a leg over the middle rope and steps for the first time into a PRIME ring.

Bronson Box: It sounds, Hayes, like you feel about the same way. Now see… I came here to this arena tonight under the pretense of “visiting friends”… thankfully Troy’s clearly too busy this evenin’ to think about that one too hard as, well, here I am in her ring holdin’ one of her microphones. In reality I wanted to get a bead on this place. See, I’ve honestly not paid attention to this circus much, Hayes. I wanted to hear from this locker room. Get some sort of read on the place… see if there was even anyone worth my precious time and attention.

The Wargod’s face twists into a snarl.

Bronson Box: Nothing I overheard back there moved me to action. In fact, up until a few minutes ago I was ready to go hop a flight back to France for DEF Rising without another thought about this bloody place. All I saw back there was a bunch of lazy primadonnas takin’ potshots because their boss told them to. Then you came out here and opened yer’ [censored] mouth. And what I heard was ACTUAL animosity… you bloody hate DEFIANCE, dontcha boy’o?

Box scans Hanlon, and the Event Horizon replies in kind.

Bronson Box: A lot of folks back there are whippin’ themselves into a sort of artificial frenzy over this show. No different on the other side of the proverbial isle, believe me. The same sort of ridiculous manufactured drama is being cooked up in the DEFIANCE locker room too. Everybody lookin’ to make some sort of sycophantic impact by cookin’ some drama, make Troy and the mysterious Favoured Saints board all doe-eyed over their bloody “brand loyalty”…

Boxer almost spits the last two words like a spray of venom.

He leans a little farther into Hayes Hanlon’s personal space.

Bronson Box: Now I know for a fact none of them, those pricks I call co-workers, know a blasted THING about true loyalty. Not to a brand but to an IDEA. An idea, a culture I’ve cultivated for a few years shy of two [censored] decades. Like I said, I was just about to leave… content to let fools battle fools at this bloody show of Troy’s without another thought about the blasted thing and like kismet here you come, microphone in hand… just look atcha… “we have Bronson Box at home” indeed.

Hayes Hanlon: “Bronson Box at Home?” Is that what you see, old man? That’s rich coming from Wal*Mart Phil Atken.

Wade strafes, mic at his lips, eyes staring down the Wargod.

“Come at me lad.” The Original DEFIANT nods at Hanlon’s microphone with that sick, almost excited, crooked grin.

Hayes Hanlon: Listen bud, you’re right about our locker room. On the whole, this current ReVival roster hasn’t quiiiiite lived up to the ReVolution’s. BUT, that just tells me you were talking to the wrooooong ones. Because you definitely didn’t talk to Joe Fontaine. And DEFINITELY didn’t chat with FLAMBERGE. You sure as SHIT didn’t catch the ear of CECILWORTH. FRIGGIN’ FARTHINGTON.

A louder rise from the PRIME Faithful for Hanlon’s less-douchey teammates. He then steps forward, and leans down close to Box.

Hayes Hanlon: And I can tell everyone now, you didn’t come looking for me, either. Did ya? bOy’O?

The two men are essentially nose to nose at this point. A little quick, off mic back and forth shit talk continues for a few moments before the promo proper continues.

Hayes Hanlon: Seems like we both have our issues with the “Lady of the Hour,” but I dunno, man. She’s clearly got a thing for gray-haired dudes with erectile dysfunction. Maybe you were hoping to find her backstage and catch a whiff of-

The Wargod’s gnarled face screws into a scowl and before Hanlon can react he’s met with one of Boxer’s giant scarred up paws right across his face.

Nick Stuart: Oh my God! Boxer just SMACKED the taste out of Hayes Hanlon’s mouth!

The brawl is immediate, and vicious.

Richard Parker: Man, this fella really doesn’t like the boss, huh?

Box and Hanlon roll across the ropes from corner to corner in a messy lockup. Each man jockeying for an upper hand. Hanlon breaks free and clobbers Bronson with a series of elbows across the DEF Hall of Famer’s scarred up balled dome. With Boxer temporarily rocked, Hayes RIPS open the Original DEFIANT’s vest and shirt and LIGHTS him up with open hand chops across the chest.

A violent gesture Bronson Box almost giddily returns.

THWACK THWACK THWACK

Hayes is almost taken off his feet by the hamlike open handed chops from Boxer.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

DEF, PRIME… right now these fans could care less.

The ring FLOODS with security that begin wedging themselves between the two incensed superstars pushing them each back into opposite corners. Neither Hayes or Bronson shut their mouths the entire time. Expletives and threats of physical violence are lobbed over the sea of polo shirted PRIME security drones. Chief among them, Wade Elliott, assisting Dametreyus by pushing Hayes back into a corner. Dam, meanwhile, wraps Box up in his gigantic arms, and works to drag him away.

Nick Stuart: You know that Lindsay Troy wasn’t going to let Bronson Box have his way on the microphone. Not in her house!

Richard Parker: Stay tuned! We’ll be right back with Rose vs. FLAMBERGE!

The mayhem continues as we cut to a promo video for our upcoming match… FLAMBERGE vs. ROSE!

We go from one Glueminati member to a match that will contain another.

Vince Howard: The following match is a NO! HOLDS! BARRED! MATCH!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Vince Howard: Introducing first, hailing from San Diego, California, she stands at five feet and eleven inches tall… she is the SECOND COMING! ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSE!

The stadium lights dim suddenly, and the PRIMEates in Mercedes-Benz Stadium buzz with anticipation. The massive PRIMEview screen flickers to life, showing Rose in a dimly lit gym, no makeup, hair pulled back, wearing a simple tank top and training gear. Sweat drips down her face as she pounds away at a heavy bag, each strike echoing through the speakers.

The video cuts to Rose running stadium stairs at dawn, her breath visible in the cold air. Her face shows exhaustion, pain, determination. The camera zooms in close as she stops at the top, hands on her knees, gasping for breath.

Rose: (voice over, breathing heavily) Everyone thinks they know what this match means. They think it’s just another bout, just another show. A misunderstanding. A disagreement. You disrespecting my father.

The video shifts to Rose in the ring, taking brutal bumps on chairs and tables, training for the no-holds-barred environment. She winces with each impact but immediately gets back up, demanding her training partners hit her again.

Rose: (voice over) They don’t understand what I’ve sacrificed to get here. What I’ve endured. What I’ve SURVIVED.

Cut to Rose alone in the gym late at night, the only light coming from the ring. She’s sitting in the corner, arms wrapped around her knees, staring at nothing. The vulnerability is stark, raw.

Rose: (voice over) FLAMBERGE thinks he’s going to break me. He thinks his submissions, his size, his brutality will be enough.

The video cuts to Rose back on her feet, working on submissions with a grappling coach—escaping chokes, countering holds, her face twisted in pain but refusing to tap.

Rose: (voice over) He thinks I’m just another name in his book. Just another person who’ll fold when things get hard.

Cut to Rose hitting a heavy bag with rapid-fire combinations—kicks, knees, elbows—the bag swinging violently with each impact. Her eyes are intense, focused, almost manic.

Rose: (voice over, voice rising) But he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know what I’m willing to DO. He doesn’t know how far I’m willing to GO.

The video shows Rose climbing to the top rope in an empty ring, practicing high-risk moves over and over. She misses one, crashes hard on the mat, and the sound echoes. For a moment, she doesn’t move. Then she pushes herself up, climbs again.

Rose: (voice over) This isn’t about wins and losses anymore. This isn’t about rankings or titles or what the critics say.

Cut to Rose wrapping her hands with tape, the camera tight on her face. Bruises visible on her arms, determination burning in her eyes.

Rose: (voice over) This is about proving that I BELONG. That I won’t be dismissed. That I won’t be overlooked. That I won’t be ignored. That I won’t be BROKEN.

The video shifts to Rose standing in the center of an empty Mercedes-Benz Stadium, looking up at the thousands of empty seats. She turns slowly, taking it all in.

Rose: (voice over) FLAMBERGE… you think you’re a warrior? You think you’re untouchable?

Cut to Rose back in the gym, staring directly into the camera now, sweat pouring down her face, eyes blazing.

Rose: Tonight, in front of seventy-thousand people, I’m going to show you what REAL fight looks like. I’m going to show you what happens when you push someone past their breaking point, when you place your pride aboe your friendship. I’m going to show you…

The camera zooms in close on Rose’s eyes.

Rose: …that you maybe a legend. But a KING? (slight smirk) King’s are born in moments like this.

The screen cuts to black and white footage of Rose’s greatest hits—big moves, comebacks, moments of triumph. Text appears on screen in stark white letters:

“KINGS. NEVER. DIE.”

The PRIMEview goes black.

For a moment, there’s complete silence in the stadium—the weight of Rose’s words hanging in the air. Then—

“Here to stay…”

The opening notes of “Kings Never Die” by Eminem featuring Gwen Stefani hit, and Mercedes-Benz Stadium ERUPTS. The lights explode back on in a mixture of colors—rose gold and white—and Rose appears at the top of the ramp, standing in a spotlight. She’s wearing her ring gear with a leather jacket over it, her expression focused and intense. The crowd is split—half cheering wildly for the hometown fighter who just poured her heart out, half jeering at her confidence, but EVERYONE is loud.

Here to stay, even when I’m gone
When I close my eyes
Through the passage of time
Kings never die

Rose stands motionless at the top of the ramp, letting the moment breathe, letting the words wash over the crowd. She’s not showboating, not playing to the cameras—she’s zeroed in on the ring, on what’s about to happen. After what feels like an eternity, she starts her walk down the ramp, her pace measured and deliberate.

Nick Stuart: That video package just showed us everything Rose has put into preparing for this moment. The training, the sacrifice, the pain she’s willing to endure. This is more than a match for her, Richard—this is her defining moment.

Richard Parker: A motivational video doesn’t win matches, Nick. FLAMBERGE doesn’t care how many heavy bags she hit or how many stairs she ran. All that matters is what happens when the bell rings, and Rose is about to find out that preparation and reality are two very different things.

Cause here I sit in Lucifer’s den by the dutch oven just choosing to sin
Even if it means I’m selling my soul, just to be the undisputed again
Do whatever I gotta do just to win
‘Cause I got this motherfucking cloud over my head

Rose reaches the bottom of the ramp and pauses, looking up at the ring. The camera catches her face—no smile, just cold, unwavering determination. She unzips her leather jacket and lets it fall to the floor, not even bothering to hand it to a ring attendant. The mixed reaction from the crowd grows louder—some sections chanting “LET’S GO ROSE” while others respond with “YOU CAN’T WIN.”

But I found out that I can move a mountain of doubt
Even when you bitches are counting me out, and I appear to be down for the count
Only time I ever been out and about is
Driving around town with my fucking whereabouts in a doubt

Rose slides into the ring under the bottom rope and pops to her feet in one fluid motion. She walks to the center of the ring and raises both arms, the spotlight following her. The PRIMEates are on their feet—some cheering, some jeering, but everyone making noise. Rose slowly turns in a circle, taking in the entire stadium, the magnitude of the moment clearly not lost on her.

Nick Stuart: Seventy-thousand-plus people in Mercedes-Benz Stadium tonight and you can feel the emotion in this building! She’s fought her entire career for moments like this!

Richard Parker: And half this crowd thinks she’s about to get destroyed, Nick! Don’t forget that! Rose showed us her training montage, but FLAMBERGE has been preparing too. The difference is, he doesn’t need to make a video about it—he just shows up and breaks people.

Spit on, shit on, stepped on, but kept going I’m tryna be headstrong
But it feels like I slept on my neck wrong
‘Cause you’re moving onto the next, but is the respect gone?
‘Cause someone told me that
(Kings never die)

Rose walks to the corner and climbs to the second turnbuckle, raising one fist in the air. The camera zooms in on her face—jaw clenched, eyes burning with intensity. This isn’t the Rose who does high-flying moves for the crowd’s entertainment. This is Rose ready for war. She hops down from the corner and removes her entrance shirt, tossing it out of the ring. She begins stretching, testing her legs and arms, never taking her eyes off the entrance ramp.

Here to stay
Even when I’m gone
When I close my eyes
Through the passage of time
Kings never die

The music begins to fade, and Rose settles into the corner, bouncing lightly on her feet, rolling her shoulders, keeping her body warm. The crowd noise shifts from reacting to her entrance to buzzing with anticipation for what’s about to happen. Rose stares up at the entrance ramp, waiting for FLAMBERGE, her hands gripping the top rope tightly.

Nick Stuart: Rose looks ready, Richard. Coming out tonight to the same song her father came out to three years ago in his final match. More ready than I’ve ever seen her. She knows what’s at stake tonight. Everything she said in that video—about proving herself, about not being broken—it all comes down to the next thirty minutes.

Richard Parker: She LOOKS ready, Nick, but looking ready and BEING ready are two very different things. That video was emotional, sure, but emotion doesn’t submit FLAMBERGE. Technique does. Power does. And Rose is about to find out she’s outmatched in both.

Some slow electronic chords permeate airwaves as the stadium darkens.

“The Device, Pt. 1” – TWRP

A night time scene on the PRIMEview. A tucked away corner of a tucked away part of town – an old factory-looking building covered in bright teal tiles. A sign out front marks this as “The Big Glue House”.

Over time the low hum of chords turns into a steady thumping beat, one you could really march like a drone to.

We hear a deep, resonant voice we’re unfamiliar with – it gives James Earl Jones vibes, though it is definitely not him.

Narrator: Once upon a time, from a faraway land, a young lizard lived in a factory. Although he had everything his heart desired, the lizard was hungry, ambitious, and unforgiving.

The doors to the building open to blackness. We enter, and are shown a muted flashback to Rose and FLAMBERGE’s backstage encounter on night one of UltraViolence 2025. A brief exchange of words, a verbal knife by Rose, and a lingering stare from FLAMBERGE, whose eyes slowly blink, one lid at a time.

Narrator: But one warm summer’s night, a beggar woman approached the young lizard. He offered what he thought was the best thing he could share – and in return, was given a curse.

Back inside the house, a hallway, dimly lit by the occasional bare bulb. Bottles of glue line the walls in crates on pallets. As we reach the end of the hallway, we see a single red rose perched in a nearly-transparent glass vase, which has been covered by a glass dome.

Narrator: The lizard tried to force her understanding, but the message was misunderstood, and soon, it was too late to go back. And so, the young lizard grew closer with a beast. A beast that lived inside of him.

Passing images of past events; Rose, unconscious, during UltraViolence night two; Rose leaping from a great height, placing a lead pipe beneath her feet, and stomping on the ankles of Hayes Hanlon. In between each scene, we see petals falling from the rose beneath the glass dome.

Narrator: The lizard knew that he and the beast were slowly becoming one. And he knew that if he were to allow each and every petal of his cursed Rose to fall…

Hank chokebombing Rose twice in the middle of the ring; Rose emerging to help the soon-to-be-rechristened Red Bandits steal JoeBERGE’s tag team championships in a dumpster match; the pull-apart brawl at the contract signing on ReVival 79. More petals fall, and soon, only a couple seem to remain.

FLAMBERGE enters the room with the domed rose and stares at it. He blinks ominously and slowly once again, one eye at a time.

Narrator: …he would be doomed to remain the Beast forever.

As the music swells and escalates and a glam rock guitar solo rips ass across all earbuds in attendance, FLAMBERGE approaches the dome and lifts it. He slowly pulls the rose out of its vase…slowly wraps his fingers around the last few petals…and as the guitar solo ends, he rips the petals off as hard as he can. The screen cuts to black.

…

We pause a dramatic pause.

…

Seventeen smoke machines line the exterior of the stage, and they begin to blast. It’s like a dry ice machine exploded. A stormy cloud of fog covering the entire stage.

…

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

“ooh la la” by Run the Jewels feat. Greg Nice & DJ Premier

AHH OUI OUI! AHH OUI OUI!

AHH OUI OUI! AHH OUI OUI!

AHH OUI OUI! AHH OUI OUI!

AHH OUI OUI! AHH OUI OUI!

Teal and copper sparks shower the entire entrance ramp and around the outside of the smokey stage in powerful blasts. Some of the brighter sparks near the back of the stage reveal a silhouette, one that begins to storm forward in intense, brisk strides. The PRIMEtron doesn’t run through his familiar list of achievements and accolades; instead, a pulsing graphic of a lizard alternating between four differently styled crowns pulses to the beat of the music (though the smoke gets a little in the way at times).

The silhouette has become apparent.

FLAMBERGE.

Vince Howard: AAAAAND HER OPPONENT! Hailing from Strasbourg, France!

He’s out of the smoke and marching down the ramp, and his eyes are WILD, though the rest of his face is frozen in stone. Copper lizards with four crowns line the outsides of his white and teal shorts, and each of his white boots features a copper flamberge sword running down the shinguard.

Vince Howard: Weighing in at 206 POUNDS…HE IS THEEEEE NECK COLLECTOR! FLAAAAAAMBERRRRRRRRRGE!!

ROOOOOOOAHHHHHHHHHH!

Richard Parker: This is one of the most accomplished wrestlers of the ReVival era, partner – a Grand Slam champion, a Wrestler of the Year, a finalist in this year’s Almasy Invitational, a WarGames winner, a man who broke the friggin’ record for most consecutive victories in PRIME history!

Nick Stuart: No surprise that you would back FLAMBERGE in this one, Richard, given your past statements, but for all of those achievements, there’s some other things worth pointing out. He’s a man who’s had a number of absolutely vicious rivalries in the past, and when they get as deeply personal as these issues with Rose have become, Julien Lavigne sometimes runs a little too hot, and it burns him.

Richard Parker: What are you TALKING about?

Nick Stuart: Brandon Youngblood comes to mind, Nate Colton comes to mind…

Richard Parker: Alright, listen, you can make that argument all night if you want, but as far as I’m concerned, the Glue Boiz will always have Rose’s number, just like Phil Atken and Hank had Dusk’s number!

FLAMBERGE burns a hole towards the center of the ring with his eyes as he marches a lap around the ring. As he gets to the steps at his corner, he closes his eyes, takes a very deep breath, and exhales…his eyes have changed a bit from blistering chaotic energy, to focused anger. He takes the steps up and enters the ring.

Ashley Barlow gives her final set of instructions, which are basically, don’t kill each other.

Tough shit. Let’s fucking go.

DING DING

Rose and FLAMBERGE meet in the center of the ring, and there’s no feeling out process, no tactical circling—just immediate violence. Rose throws a stiff European Uppercut that snaps FLAMBERGE’s head back, but FLAMBERGE fires right back with a brutal jiu-jitsu clinch knee to Rose’s midsection. Rose doubles over for a split second before popping back up with a Spinning Heel Kick that connects with FLAMBERGE’s jaw. FLAMBERGE staggers but responds instantly with a vicious 12-6 elbow that drops down onto Rose’s shoulder. The crowd roars as both wrestlers refuse to give an inch, trading strike for strike in a furious opening exchange.

Rose ducks under a wild haymaker from FLAMBERGE and springs off the ropes, launching herself into a Pele Kick that catches FLAMBERGE square in the face. FLAMBERGE drops to one knee but fires back up immediately, catching Rose mid-celebration with a Jumping Roundhouse Kick that sends her stumbling into the corner. Rose pulls herself up using the ropes, shaking out the cobwebs as FLAMBERGE charges forward, looking to capitalize.

Nick Stuart: This is exactly what we expected! Neither one of these competitors is backing down, and they’re throwing everything they have at each other right out of the gate!

Richard Parker: And that’s going to be Rose’s downfall, Nick. She’s trading shots with someone who has sixty pounds on her. That’s not smart wrestling, that’s emotion taking over. The Lizard King is the Lizard King for a reason.

Rose sidesteps FLAMBERGE’s charge, and FLAMBERGE crashes chest-first into the turnbuckles. Rose immediately goes low, sweeping FLAMBERGE’s legs out with a quick Leg Sweep that dumps him face-first onto the mat. Rose follows up with a Basement Dropkick to FLAMBERGE’s head, sending him rolling toward the ropes. FLAMBERGE uses the momentum to roll under the bottom rope to the outside, trying to create some separation and regroup.

But Rose isn’t giving him any time to breathe. She hits the opposite ropes and charges forward, launching herself through the middle rope with a Suicide Dive that crashes into FLAMBERGE on the outside. Both wrestlers crumple to the ringside floor in a heap, the impact echoing through the stadium as the PRIMEates explode in approval.

Richard Parker: Rose is throwing her body around like she has nothing to lose!

Nick Stuart: In a match like this, Richard, she might not! This is about ending a blood feud, and both of these competitors knew coming in that their bodies were going to pay the price!

Rose is first to her feet, adrenaline clearly masking any pain from the Suicide Dive. She pulls FLAMBERGE up and whips him hard into the barricade, the steel barrier rattling from the impact. FLAMBERGE arches their back in pain, but as Rose charges in for a follow-up strike, FLAMBERGE explodes forward with a devastating Double Leg Takedown that plants Rose on the thin ringside mats. FLAMBERGE immediately transitions into mount position and starts raining down 12-6 elbows, looking to ground and pound Rose into submission right there on the outside.

Rose manages to squirm and twist, using her smaller frame to slip out from under FLAMBERGE before the elbows can do serious damage. She scrambles backward on the mat, creating distance, and both wrestlers pause for a moment, breathing hard and eyeing each other with pure hatred. The crowd is on their feet, sensing that this is only the beginning of the carnage to come.

Nick Stuart: Rose got out of there just in time! FLAMBERGE was looking to end this fight quickly with those brutal elbows!

Richard Parker: That’s what I’ve been saying, Nick. On the mat, in close quarters, FLAMBERGE is too dangerous for Rose. She needs to keep moving, keep the distance, or this is going to be a very short night for her.

Rose spots the ring apron and quickly drops down, reaching under the ring. Her hand emerges clutching a kendo stick, and she grips it tightly as she rises to her feet. Across from her, FLAMBERGE has moved to the other side of the ring and is pulling out a steel chair, testing its weight in his hands. The two competitors begin to circle each other on the outside, weapons in hand, and the atmosphere shifts from pure brawling to something more calculated and dangerous.

FLAMBERGE and Rose begin to circle each other slowly, the kendo stick in Rose’s hands and the steel chair in FLAMBERGE’s creating a tense standoff. The crowd buzzes with anticipation, knowing that the first strike with a weapon will set the tone for everything that follows.

Nick Stuart: And now the landscape of this match has changed completely. We knew weapons would come into play, but this early?

Richard Parker: No count-outs, no disqualifications, Nick. Why wouldn’t you grab every advantage you can? This is about survival now, and both of them know it.

Rose makes the first move, darting forward with the kendo stick raised high. She swings for FLAMBERGE’s head, but he ducks under, and the stick whistles through empty air. Rose immediately pivots and cracks the kendo stick across FLAMBERGE’s back with a sharp THWACK that echoes through the stadium. FLAMBERGE grimaces but doesn’t go down, turning to face Rose as she winds up for another shot. This time she targets his legs, landing a stinging strike to his left thigh, then another to his right knee. The crowd cheers with each impact as Rose uses her speed advantage, circling FLAMBERGE and peppering him with quick, precise kendo stick shots.

FLAMBERGE finally has enough. As Rose winds up for another strike to his ribs, he steps into it, eating the shot but getting close enough to swing the steel chair in a wide arc. The chair catches Rose in the shoulder and she drops the kendo stick, crying out in pain as she stumbles backward. FLAMBERGE doesn’t hesitate, following up with another chair shot, this time to Rose’s back as she tries to turn away. The CRACK of steel on flesh sends a collective wince through the crowd.

Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE just absorbed those kendo stick shots like they were nothing, and now he’s going to work with that chair!

Richard Parker: See, that’s the difference, Nick! Rose can hit him all day with that stick, but one good chair shot from FLAMBERGE and suddenly she’s in a world of hurt. Size and strength matter, especially in a match like this!

Rose crawls toward the ring apron, trying to put distance between herself and FLAMBERGE, but he stalks after her with the chair raised. As he brings it down for another strike, Rose rolls out of the way at the last second and the chair CLANGS off the steel ring post. The impact vibrates through FLAMBERGE’s hands, causing him to drop the chair momentarily. Rose sees her opening and springs to her feet, grabbing the dropped kendo stick and swinging it with everything she has at FLAMBERGE’s midsection. He doubles over from the impact, and Rose follows up with a brutal shot to his back that actually snaps the kendo stick in two.

Rose tosses the broken halves aside and immediately follows up with a Running Forearm Strike to the back of FLAMBERGE’s skull, sending him face-first into the ring apron. She grabs him by the head and slams his face into the apron once, twice, three times, each impact drawing louder cheers from the PRIMEates. FLAMBERGE finally throws an elbow backward that catches Rose in the ribs, creating separation. Both wrestlers back away from each other, breathing heavily, Rose rubbing her shoulder where the chair connected and FLAMBERGE rolling his neck after the kendo stick assault.

Richard Parker: Rose broke that kendo stick over FLAMBERGE’s back! That had to hurt!

Nick Stuart: But look at FLAMBERGE, Richard—he’s already shaking it off! These two are absolutely relentless, and I don’t think either one is going to stop until somebody can’t get back up!

FLAMBERGE spots the steel chair on the ground and picks it back up, but this time, instead of swinging it, he wedges it between the middle and bottom rope in the corner of the ring. Rose watches him carefully, then dives back under the ring, emerging with a second steel chair of her own. She doesn’t wait for FLAMBERGE to turn around—she charges forward and swings the chair like a baseball bat, catching FLAMBERGE square in the back with a thunderous shot that sends him stumbling forward into the barricade.

Rose sets up her chair on the outside, propping it open, clearly planning something. She backs up, measuring FLAMBERGE as he pushes himself off the barricade and turns around. Rose charges forward, leaps onto the seat of the chair, and launches herself with a Flying Forearm Smash that drives FLAMBERGE back into the barricade with incredible force. The barricade actually shifts backward from the impact, and both wrestlers crash to the floor in a tangle of limbs. The PRIMEates in the front row are losing their minds, several of them pounding on the barricade in appreciation of the all-out warfare they’re witnessing.

Nick Stuart: Rose just used that chair as a launching pad! What innovation, what desperation to take FLAMBERGE down!

Richard Parker: I’ll give her credit, Nick, she’s bringing the fight. But every time she throws herself at him like that, she’s taking damage too. I don’t know how long she can keep this pace up!

Rose is first to her feet again, though she’s clearly favoring her shoulder from the earlier chair shot. She pulls FLAMBERGE up and attempts to whip him toward the steel ring steps, but FLAMBERGE reverses it, sending Rose crashing knee-first into the unforgiving steel with a sickening THUD. Rose flips over the steps from the momentum, landing hard on the other side. FLAMBERGE takes a moment to catch his breath, then walks over to where Rose landed. He reaches down to pull her up, but Rose desperately grabs at his leg and executes a Dragon Screw Leg Whip that twists FLAMBERGE’s knee and sends him down to the mat.

Both competitors are down on the outside now, with the crowd chanting for both wrestlers. Rose drags herself toward the timekeeper’s area while FLAMBERGE slowly gets to his feet, testing his twisted knee. Rose emerges from the timekeeper’s area holding not a weapon, but the bell itself, still attached to its small wooden base. FLAMBERGE sees this and quickly grabs the top portion of the steel steps, hefting it up. The two face each other once more, Rose with the timekeeper’s bell and FLAMBERGE with the steel steps, the stakes having escalated significantly.

Richard Parker: Oh, this is about to get ugly! That ring bell in Rose’s hands could end FLAMBERGE’s night with one good shot!

Nick Stuart: And those steel steps? FLAMBERGE could do some severe, career-ending damage with those! This has gone from a wrestling match to something much more dangerous!

Rose and FLAMBERGE stand roughly ten feet apart, each holding their respective weapons, neither willing to make the first move and leave themselves vulnerable. The tension is palpable as they slowly begin to circle each other around the ringside area. Rose suddenly feints forward with the ring bell, and FLAMBERGE instinctively raises the steel steps to block. In that split second, Rose pivots and hurls the ring bell directly at FLAMBERGE’s legs. The bell crashes into his already-tweaked knee, and he drops the steel steps as his leg buckles. Rose immediately charges in with a Basement Dropkick to FLAMBERGE’s other knee, finally taking the bigger man down to the mat.

Rose doesn’t waste any time capitalizing. She grabs FLAMBERGE by the head and rolls him back into the ring under the bottom rope, then retrieves one of the steel chairs from ringside. She slides the chair into the ring, then grabs a second chair and throws it in as well. As she climbs onto the apron, FLAMBERGE is already pulling himself up using the ropes, showing his resilience. Rose springboards off the top rope, looking for a Springboard Enzuigiri, but FLAMBERGE catches her out of mid-air and transitions it into a brutal Komi Goshi throw that plants Rose hard on the canvas.

Nick Stuart: What a counter by FLAMBERGE! Rose was looking to maintain her momentum, but FLAMBERGE’s judo background just came into play!

Richard Parker: That’s what I’ve been waiting for! This is FLAMBERGE’s world now—back in the ring where he can showcase that technical prowess. Rose made a mistake bringing this fight back inside!

FLAMBERGE grabs one of the steel chairs Rose threw into the ring and unfolds it, setting it up in the middle of the ring. He pulls Rose up and traps her arm, delivering a series of stiff kicks to her ribs while she’s unable to defend herself. After three brutal kicks, he transitions into a Hammerlock position and lifts Rose up, driving her back-first onto the seated steel chair with a Hammerlock Suplex. The chair collapses under the impact, and Rose screams in pain, arching her back as she rolls away from the wreckage of the bent steel.

FLAMBERGE stalks after Rose, who’s crawling toward the corner where he wedged the chair earlier between the ropes. He grabs her by the ankle and drags her back toward the center of the ring, but Rose kicks back with her free leg, catching him in the face with her boot. FLAMBERGE’s grip loosens, and Rose scrambles to her feet. She hits the ropes and comes back with a Sling Blade that takes FLAMBERGE down. Both wrestlers are down again, the physical toll of the match already evident on their faces and bodies.

Richard Parker: Rose is fighting purely on instinct right now! That Sling Blade came out of nowhere!

Nick Stuart: When your back’s against the wall, when everything’s on the line, you dig deep and find something extra! That’s what Rose is doing right now!

Rose crawls to the corner and uses the ropes to pull herself up. She sees FLAMBERGE starting to rise and measures him up. As FLAMBERGE gets to one knee, Rose charges forward and delivers the Thorn Prick—her Running Bicycle Knee Strike—that catches FLAMBERGE flush in the temple. FLAMBERGE goes down hard, and Rose immediately hooks the leg for a cover. Barlow slides into position.

ONE

TWO

THR—NO! FLAMBERGE kicks out with authority, actually pushing Rose off of him.

Nick Stuart: So close! Rose hit her setup move, but it’s going to take more than that to keep FLAMBERGE down!

Richard Parker: Of course it is! You think a knee strike is going to finish this fight? Rose is going to have to break FLAMBERGE if she wants to win this match!

Rose pounds the mat in frustration but quickly refocuses. She grabs the other steel chair—the one that’s still intact—and sets it up near one of the corners. She then climbs to the second turnbuckle, clearly looking to use the chair as part of an aerial attack. FLAMBERGE slowly gets to his feet, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs from the knee strike. As he turns toward Rose, she leaps off the second rope, springboarding off it toward the top rope, looking for a Springboard Moonsault onto FLAMBERGE with the chair positioned for maximum impact.

But FLAMBERGE has it scouted. As Rose flips through the air, FLAMBERGE sidesteps and catches her across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry position. Before Rose can counter, FLAMBERGE charges toward the corner where the chair is wedged between the ropes and launches Rose forward with a devastating release throw. Rose crashes face and chest-first into the wedged chair with a sickening CRASH, the impact so violent that the chair actually breaks free from the ropes and falls to the mat along with Rose’s crumpled body.

Nick Stuart: OH MY GOD! Rose just crashed into that chair at full speed! That could be it right there!

Richard Parker: THAT’S what I’m talking about! FLAMBERGE just used Rose’s own high-risk style against her! She went for broke and came up empty!

FLAMBERGE drops down and rolls Rose over, hooking both legs deep for the cover. Barlow begins her count.

ONE

TWO

THR—Rose gets a shoulder up at the last possible moment! The crowd erupts, half in relief that the match continues, half in disbelief that Rose kicked out. FLAMBERGE sits back on his knees, looking at Barlow with narrowed eyes, but Barlow holds up two fingers emphatically.

FLAMBERGE doesn’t argue. Instead, he grabs Rose’s arm and drags her toward the center of the ring. He positions himself and locks in the Jujigatame—the cross armbreaker—extending Rose’s arm fully and arching back to apply maximum pressure. Rose screams in pain, her free arm flailing as she tries to find some way to escape the hold. The crowd is split, some chanting for Rose to fight out, others sensing that this could be the end.

Richard Parker: This is it! Rose has nowhere to go! She’s in the middle of the ring, FLAMBERGE has that arm fully extended, and there’s no rope breaks to save her!

Nick Stuart: But wait—this is NO HOLDS BARRED, Richard! Rose doesn’t need a rope break! She just needs to survive!

Rose writhes in pain, her face contorted in agony as FLAMBERGE wrenches back on the arm. She tries to roll through to relieve pressure, but FLAMBERGE adjusts with her, maintaining the hold. Rose’s free hand reaches out desperately, searching for anything that might help her. Her fingers brush against one of the broken pieces of the kendo stick from earlier, and she manages to grab it. With a primal scream, she swings the broken stick backward and jabs it into FLAMBERGE’s ribs once, twice, three times. The strikes aren’t elegant, but they’re effective enough to force FLAMBERGE to release the hold.

Nick Stuart: Rose found a way out! That’s the beauty—or the brutality—of no holds barred! There’s always another option if you’re willing to use it!

Richard Parker: She’s just delaying the inevitable, Nick. FLAMBERGE had that armbar locked in tight. Rose’s arm has to be compromised now.

Both wrestlers roll away from each other, Rose clutching her extended arm to her chest while FLAMBERGE rubs his ribs where the kendo stick jabbed him. The ring is littered with debris now—bent chairs, broken kendo stick pieces, both wrestlers’ bodies showing the wear of the battle. They both slowly get to their feet, eyeing each other with a mixture of respect and hatred, knowing that this war is far from over.

FLAMBERGE gets to his feet first, and there’s a different look in his eyes now—cold, calculated, sadistic. He rolls out of the ring and begins searching under the apron with purpose. He pulls out a jolf club, the bizarre golf-club-like weapon that looks like it was designed specifically for violence rather than sport. He slides it into the ring, then reaches back under and pulls out a second jolf club. The crowd murmurs with anticipation as FLAMBERGE slides back into the ring, both clubs in hand.

Rose is on her knees, still clutching her arm, when FLAMBERGE approaches. He raises one of the jolf clubs and brings it down across Rose’s back with a sickening THWACK. Rose cries out and falls forward onto her hands, but FLAMBERGE isn’t done. He strikes her again, this time across the shoulders, the club leaving a red welt across her skin. He discards that club and picks up the second one, measuring Rose as she tries to crawl away. FLAMBERGE swings the club like a baseball bat, catching Rose in the ribs and flipping her onto her back. He drops down for a cover.

ONE

TWO

TH—Rose kicks out, but weakly.

Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE is systematically breaking Rose down with those jolf clubs! This has become an absolute mugging!

Richard Parker: This is what happens when you can’t keep the bigger, stronger wrestler at bay, Nick. FLAMBERGE is in complete control now, and Rose has nothing left to stop him!

FLAMBERGE pulls Rose up by her hair and whips her hard into the corner. Rose’s back hits the turnbuckles and she slumps down, sitting in the corner in a daze. FLAMBERGE picks up one of the jolf clubs and places it across Rose’s throat, then puts his boot on the club and pushes down, choking her with the weapon. Rose’s hands claw at the club, her face turning red as she gasps for air. Barlow can’t call for a disqualification, so he just watches helplessly as FLAMBERGE applies the choke for a full ten seconds before finally releasing it.

Rose slumps forward, coughing and gasping, but FLAMBERGE drags her out of the corner by her ankle. He positions her in the middle of the ring and exits to the apron. Threading his arm through the ropes, FLAMBERGE locks in a rope-assisted Triangle Choke, his legs wrapped around Rose’s head and arm while he uses the ropes for leverage. Rose is trapped, unable to breathe properly, unable to escape. Her free arm flails uselessly as FLAMBERGE squeezes tighter, the ropes allowing him to apply pressure he couldn’t normally generate from this position.

Nick Stuart: This is disgusting! FLAMBERGE is using every illegal advantage, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it!

Richard Parker: It’s not illegal if there’s no disqualifications, Nick! This is FLAMBERGE being brilliant! He’s using the environment to his advantage, and Rose is suffocating in that hold!

Rose’s movements become more sluggish, her arm dropping. Barlow checks on her, lifting her arm once—it falls. He lifts it again—it falls. He lifts it a third time, and just before it would fall completely, Rose’s hand clenches into a fist. She suddenly springs to life, using her legs to push backward and drive FLAMBERGE into the corner turnbuckles. The impact forces him to break the hold, and Rose collapses to the mat, gasping for air and holding her throat.

FLAMBERGE slides back into the ring, slightly winded from the corner impact but still very much in control. He rolls back out to the outside and this time pulls out a bundle of kendo sticks—four of them tied together with tape. The crowd’s reaction shifts from excited to concerned as FLAMBERGE slides the bundle into the ring. He reaches under the ring one more time and pulls out a steel chair, but this one has something different about it—cloth wrapped around parts of it. He sets the chair on the ring apron and pulls a lighter from his boot.

Richard Parker: Wait a minute… is that…?

Nick Stuart: Oh no. No, no, no. FLAMBERGE, don’t do this!

FLAMBERGE flicks the lighter and touches the flame to the cloth wrapped around the chair. It ignites immediately, flames licking up the sides of the weapon. The crowd gasps and then roars—some in excitement, some in horror. FLAMBERGE picks up the flaming chair carefully and slides into the ring with it, the flames casting eerie shadows across his face. Rose has made it to her knees, and her eyes go wide when she sees what FLAMBERGE is holding.

Rose tries to scramble backward, but she’s running out of ring. FLAMBERGE stalks forward with the flaming chair, and Rose has nowhere to go. As FLAMBERGE raises the chair, Rose desperately throws herself forward with a desperation Leg Sweep that takes FLAMBERGE’s feet out from under him. The flaming chair goes flying, landing near the ropes as FLAMBERGE crashes to the mat. Rose quickly rolls away from both FLAMBERGE and the burning chair, and a ring attendant rushes over with a fire extinguisher to put out the flames before they can spread.

Nick Stuart: Rose just saved herself from a potentially catastrophic situation! That flaming chair could have ended her career!

Richard Parker: But she’s still in FLAMBERGE’s world, Nick! Look at her—she’s barely able to stand!

Rose uses the ropes to pull herself up, but FLAMBERGE is already back on his feet. He grabs the bundle of kendo sticks and advances on Rose. She tries to defend herself, throwing weak strikes, but FLAMBERGE swats them away and swings the bundle of sticks like a club. The four sticks combined create a devastating impact as they crash across Rose’s back, sending her sprawling through the ropes to the ring apron. FLAMBERGE follows her out, and on the apron—that dangerous elevated platform—he grabs Rose by the throat with one hand.

FLAMBERGE positions Rose on the apron and hooks her arm over the top rope, stretching it out. With his free hand, he grabs one of the kendo sticks that fell to the apron and begins striking Rose’s exposed arm repeatedly. CRACK CRACK CRACK—three brutal shots that target the same arm he had in the Jujigatame earlier. Rose screams in agony, unable to defend herself with her arm tied up in the rope. FLAMBERGE finally releases her, and Rose collapses on the apron, cradling her arm.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE is targeting that arm with surgical precision! He’s trying to make sure Rose can’t use it at all!

Nick Stuart: This is hard to watch, Richard. Rose came into this match looking for revenge, but FLAMBERGE is absolutely dismantling her!

FLAMBERGE pulls Rose up on the apron, positioning her near the ring post. He hooks her in a front facelock and lifts her up vertically for a suplex on the apron—already one of the most dangerous places to take a move. But as he holds her in the air, he adjusts his position so that when he falls backward, Rose’s legs drape over the top rope. FLAMBERGE drops down, executing a Rope-Assisted Suplex that drops Rose neck and shoulders-first on the ring apron. The impact is devastating, and Rose rolls off the apron to the outside floor, landing in a heap.

FLAMBERGE drops down to the outside and pulls Rose up, her body ragdoll-limp in his grasp. He rolls her back into the ring and follows, looking to end this. He drags Rose to the center of the ring and positions himself, grabbing her injured arm and locking in the North-South Choke. His body is perpendicular to Rose’s head, his chest covering her face and cutting off her air supply while his arms trap her head. Rose’s legs kick weakly, her good arm tapping at FLAMBERGE’s back, but it’s not a submission—she’s just trying to push him off.

Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE has that North-South Choke locked in! Rose can’t breathe! She can’t escape!

Richard Parker: This is it, Nick! There’s no way out of this! Rose is done!

Rose’s movements slow, her body going limp. Barlow checks on her, lifting her good arm. It falls. He lifts it again. It falls. He lifts it a third time—and Rose’s arm suddenly shoots up, her hand balling into a fist. With her last bit of energy, she manages to twist her body just enough to get her leg draped over the bottom rope. Ashley sees it, but in a no holds barred match, it doesn’t matter—there are no rope breaks.

FLAMBERGE realizes this at the same time the crowd does, and he maintains the hold even as Rose’s foot touches the rope. Rose, using every ounce of ring awareness she has left, manages to hook her foot under the bottom rope and push, using it as leverage to roll both herself and FLAMBERGE over. The unexpected shift causes FLAMBERGE to lose his grip on the hold, and both wrestlers separate. Rose immediately rolls toward the corner, putting as much distance as possible between herself and FLAMBERGE.

Nick Stuart: Rose’s ring awareness just saved her! She knew the ropes couldn’t break the hold, but she could use them to create movement!

Richard Parker: That’s veteran instinct, Nick, but it only bought her a few more seconds of suffering! Look at her—she can barely move!

FLAMBERGE gets to his feet, frustration evident on his face. He’s dominated Rose for several minutes now, hit her with everything, and she’s still somehow surviving. He grabs the bundle of kendo sticks again and walks toward the corner where Rose is pulling herself up. Rose is facing the corner, her back to FLAMBERGE, completely vulnerable. FLAMBERGE raises the bundle of sticks high above his head and brings them down with all his strength across Rose’s back. The impact is so brutal that the tape holding the sticks together breaks, and all four sticks scatter across the ring. Rose collapses face-first into the turnbuckles and then falls backward, landing flat on her back in the ring.

FLAMBERGE drops down for what he clearly believes will be the final cover, hooking both of Rose’s legs and putting all his weight on her chest.

ONE

TWO

THRE—NO! Rose’s shoulder shoots up off the mat at the last possible millisecond. The crowd explodes, unable to believe what they’re seeing. FLAMBERGE sits up, looking at Barlow in disbelief, then down at Rose’s barely-conscious form.

Richard Parker: HOW?! How is she still in this match?!

Nick Stuart: Because Rose didn’t come here to just compete, Richard! She came here to prove something! She came here to end this feud on her terms, and she’s not going to stop until FLAMBERGE puts her down for good!

FLAMBERGE stands up and looks around the ring at all the weapons, all the destruction, trying to figure out what he needs to do to finally end this. Rose is lying on her back, breathing heavily, her body covered in welts and bruises, her arm hanging limply at her side. FLAMBERGE makes a decision. He exits the ring and walks over to the timekeeper’s area, shoving the timekeeper aside. He grabs the timekeeper’s table—a solid wooden table—and drags it toward the ring.

Nick Stuart: Oh no. FLAMBERGE is bringing furniture into this equation now!

Richard Parker: He’s going to put Rose through that table, and THEN this will finally be over!

FLAMBERGE slides the table into the ring and follows it in. He sets the table up in one of the corners, making sure it’s stable and positioned just right. Rose has managed to roll onto her stomach and is trying to push herself up to her hands and knees, showing incredible heart but very little physical capability left. FLAMBERGE walks over to her and pulls her up by her hair, dragging her toward the table. He positions her in front of it, hooking her in a front facelock, clearly setting up to drive her through the table with some kind of suplex or DDT.

But as FLAMBERGE lifts Rose up, she suddenly comes alive, kneeing him in the head with a desperation strike. FLAMBERGE drops her, and Rose lands on her feet, wobbling but upright. She hits FLAMBERGE with a European Uppercut, then another, each strike weaker than the last but driven by pure willpower. FLAMBERGE staggers backward, and Rose sees her opening. She hits the ropes and comes back with everything she has left, connecting with a Sling Blade that takes FLAMBERGE down. Both wrestlers are down again, the crowd on their feet, sensing that Rose might have one more run left in her.

Nick Stuart: Rose is fighting back! After everything FLAMBERGE has done to her, she’s still fighting back!

Richard Parker: This is insanity! Her body has to be shutting down! She’s running on fumes and adrenaline!

Rose pulls herself up using the ropes, her body battered but her eyes burning with determination. FLAMBERGE is on one knee, shaking his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from the Sling Blade. Rose doesn’t give him time to recover. She charges forward and delivers a Shining Wizard that catches FLAMBERGE flush in the temple, sending him sprawling backward. The crowd erupts as Rose, feeding off their energy, suddenly looks like a different wrestler—moving with a speed and intensity that seems impossible given what she’s been through.

FLAMBERGE tries to roll away, but Rose is on him immediately. She grabs his head and delivers a Double Arm DDT, spiking him into the mat. She doesn’t go for a cover—she knows it won’t be enough. Instead, she rolls to the outside and grabs a steel chair, sliding it into the ring. She follows it in and sets the chair up in the middle of the ring, then pulls FLAMBERGE to his feet. With a burst of energy, Rose whips FLAMBERGE into the ropes, and as he rebounds, she leaps onto the chair and launches herself backward with a Handspring Back Elbow that connects perfectly with FLAMBERGE’s jaw. He crashes to the mat, and the PRIMEates are losing their minds.

Nick Stuart: ROSE IS ON FIRE! She’s throwing everything at FLAMBERGE now! This is what heart looks like, Richard!

Richard Parker: I… I can’t believe what I’m seeing! Where is this coming from?! She should be dead on her feet!

Rose feeds off the crowd’s energy, pointing to the top rope. The PRIMEates roar their approval as Rose climbs to the top turnbuckle, her balance shaky but her resolve unwavering. FLAMBERGE slowly gets to his feet, staggering, completely unaware of where Rose is. As he turns around, Rose leaps off the top rope with a picture-perfect Diving Headbutt that crashes into FLAMBERGE’s skull. Both wrestlers go down, but Rose manages to drape an arm over FLAMBERGE’s chest.

ONE

TWO

THR—FLAMBERGE kicks out, but not with the same authority as before. Rose doesn’t show frustration—she just keeps moving. She rolls to the apron and positions herself, waiting for FLAMBERGE to rise. As he stumbles to his feet, Rose springboards off the top rope and connects with a Springboard Enzuigiri that snaps FLAMBERGE’s head to the side. He drops to one knee, and Rose immediately follows up with a Superkick that echoes through the stadium. FLAMBERGE’s head snaps back, but he doesn’t go down—he’s on both knees now, swaying but somehow still upright.

Rose backs up, measuring him, and the crowd is chanting her name now. She charges forward and delivers the Thorn Prick—her Running Bicycle Knee Strike—for the second time in the match. This time FLAMBERGE goes down flat on his back, and Rose immediately scrambles to make the cover, hooking both legs.

ONE

TWO

THRE—NO! FLAMBERGE gets a shoulder up, but barely. The crowd can’t believe it, and neither can Rose. She pounds the mat once, twice, then refocuses. She knows what she has to do.

Richard Parker: That was her setup move! She hit it clean, and FLAMBERGE still kicked out!

Nick Stuart: But Rose knows she has to go bigger! She’s climbing again! She’s going for the Rose to Rose!

Rose climbs to the top turnbuckle, her body screaming in protest but her will unbreakable. The crowd is on their feet, the noise deafening. FLAMBERGE is flat on his back in the middle of the ring, completely positioned for Rose’s finishing move. Rose steadies herself on the top rope, takes one deep breath, and leaps backward, rotating in mid-air for the Springboard Backflip Cutter. The R2R connects perfectly, Rose’s arm wrapping around FLAMBERGE’s head and driving him face-first into the mat with devastating impact. The stadium explodes as Rose hooks the leg, every person in the building counting along with Barlow.

ONE

TWO

THREE—NO!!! FLAMBERGE kicks out at 2.9! Barlow’s hand was inches from the mat for the three count, and somehow FLAMBERGE got his shoulder up. Rose sits up, her eyes wide in disbelief, her mouth open in shock. The crowd is chanting “THIS IS AWESOME” as Rose stares at FLAMBERGE’s barely-moving body.

Nick Stuart: I THOUGHT THAT WAS IT! THE R2R CONNECTED PERFECTLY AND FLAMBERGE STILL KICKED OUT!

Richard Parker: I don’t believe it! Nobody kicks out of the R2R! NOBODY! How is FLAMBERGE still in this match?!

Rose slowly gets to her feet, looking around at all the weapons scattered in and around the ring. Her eyes fall on the table still set up in the corner, then to the top rope, then back to FLAMBERGE. The crowd senses what she’s thinking and roars their approval. Rose nods, as if making a pact with herself and the audience. If the R2R won’t end it, she’ll have to go even bigger. She grabs FLAMBERGE and uses every ounce of strength she has left to drag his deadweight toward the corner where the table is positioned.

Rose props FLAMBERGE in a seated position in the corner, his back against the bottom turnbuckle, directly in front of the table. She takes a few steps back, then charges forward and connects with a Basement Dropkick that sandwiches FLAMBERGE between her boots and the turnbuckle. His head snaps forward from the impact. Rose backs up again, this time climbing to the second rope in the adjacent corner. She steadies herself, then leaps off with a Diving Knee Strike that crashes into FLAMBERGE’s face, keeping him seated and dazed in the corner.

Nick Stuart: Rose is setting something up here! She’s got FLAMBERGE positioned right in front of that table!

Richard Parker: This is dangerous, Nick! Rose is already running on empty! If this doesn’t work, she’s got nothing left!

Rose climbs the turnbuckles in the corner opposite from where FLAMBERGE is seated. She reaches the top rope and stands tall, balancing carefully. The entire stadium is on their feet, flashbulbs going off throughout the crowd. Rose takes one more look at FLAMBERGE, then launches herself across the ring with a Somersault Plancha, her body rotating through the air. She crashes into FLAMBERGE with incredible force, and the impact sends both wrestlers—and the table—crashing backward into the corner. The table doesn’t break cleanly; instead, it splinters and collapses under the combined weight, wood fragments flying everywhere as both competitors end up in a tangled heap in the corner wreckage.

The crowd explodes with “HOLY SHIT” chants as Barlow checks on both wrestlers. Neither is moving. Rose’s body is draped partially over FLAMBERGE’s, but she’s not conscious enough to make a proper cover. Barlow begins counting both wrestlers down.

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

Rose’s hand twitches, then reaches out, grabbing onto FLAMBERGE’s arm. She slowly, painfully, drags herself across FLAMBERGE’s chest, barely managing to drape her arm across him for a cover. Barlow drops into position.

Nick Stuart: ROSE IS GOING FOR THE COVER! THIS HAS TO BE IT!

Richard Parker: AFTER THAT SOMERSAULT PLANCHA THROUGH THE TABLE! THERE’S NO WAY FLAMBERGE CAN KICK OUT!

ONE

TWO

THRE—FLAMBERGE’S SHOULDER COMES UP OFF THE MAT! The crowd erupts in disbelief, Rose’s face a mask of exhaustion and shock. She rolls off FLAMBERGE and onto her back, staring at the stadium lights, frustration mounting on her face. She gave everything—hit her finish, put FLAMBERGE through a table with one of the most spectacular moves of her career—and it still wasn’t enough.

Nick Stuart: I… I don’t know what Rose has to do to put FLAMBERGE away! She’s thrown everything at him! EVERYTHING!

Richard Parker: This is the difference between wanting it and being able to finish it, Nick. Rose has all the heart in the world, but FLAMBERGE is just… he’s just tougher. He’s absorbing everything she has and refusing to stay down!

Both wrestlers lay in the wreckage of the table, bodies broken, faces etched with pain. The crowd is chanting both their names now, appreciating the absolute war they’ve witnessed. Rose is the first to stir, using the ropes to pull herself up. FLAMBERGE is moving too, pushing aside pieces of the broken table as he tries to get to his hands and knees. Rose looks at him, and for a moment, there’s something in her expression—not fear, but realization. She’s given everything she has, hit her biggest moves, taken the biggest risks, and FLAMBERGE is still getting up.

Rose backs up to the opposite corner, breathing heavily, preparing for one more strike. As FLAMBERGE gets to one knee, Rose charges forward and unleashes a Spinning Heel Kick that catches FLAMBERGE in the side of the head. He topples over, but immediately starts pushing himself back up. Rose hits him with a Roundhouse Kick. He goes down again. Gets back up. Rose delivers a Discus Elbow Smash that spins FLAMBERGE around. He staggers but stays on his feet.

Rose backs up, her body begging her to stop, but she won’t. She can’t. She charges one more time, leaping and connecting with a Pele Kick that finally sends FLAMBERGE crashing to the mat. Rose collapses next to him, both wrestlers down, the crowd on their feet giving both competitors a standing ovation for the absolute war they’ve delivered. Rose drapes her arm across FLAMBERGE one more time.

ONE

TWO

THR—FLAMBERGE ROLLS HIS SHOULDER UP AGAIN!

Rose doesn’t cry this time. She doesn’t show shock. She just lies there, staring at the ceiling, and slowly, painfully, starts to laugh—a defeated, exhausted, almost manic laugh. She’s done everything. She’s left nothing in reserve. And FLAMBERGE keeps kicking out.

Nick Stuart: Rose has nothing left… she’s spent everything, and it’s not enough…

Richard Parker: This is heartbreaking to watch, Nick. Rose fought with everything she had. She put on a performance for the ages. But sometimes… sometimes that’s just not enough.

Both wrestlers lay motionless for what feels like an eternity, the crowd’s “THIS IS AWESOME” chants echoing through the stadium. FLAMBERGE is the first to move, rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself up to his hands and knees. Rose, meanwhile, is still on her back, chest heaving, that exhausted laugh having died on her lips. FLAMBERGE gets to one knee, then to his feet, swaying like a tree in a windstorm. He looks down at Rose, and there’s just pure hatred in his eyes.

FLAMBERGE reaches down to grab Rose, but she suddenly springs to life, grabbing his arm and pulling him down into a Guillotine Choke with body scissors. The crowd erupts as Rose locks her legs around FLAMBERGE’s waist and squeezes the choke with everything she has left. FLAMBERGE’s face turns red as he tries to pull Rose’s arms apart, but she has it locked in tight. He drops to one knee, the choke taking its toll, and the stadium is deafening with Rose’s supporters screaming for FLAMBERGE to tap.

Nick Stuart: GUILLOTINE CHOKE! ROSE HAS THE GUILLOTINE LOCKED IN! THIS IS ONE OF HER SIGNATURE SUBMISSIONS!

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE’S FADING! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! ROSE MIGHT ACTUALLY PULL THIS OFF!

FLAMBERGE’s movements slow, his arms dropping slightly. Barlow checks on him, and just as it looks like he might be going out, FLAMBERGE suddenly explodes with power. He stands straight up with Rose still clinging to him, her body weight hanging off his neck. FLAMBERGE takes three stumbling steps forward and then falls backward, driving Rose spine-first into the mat with a modified spinebuster that breaks the hold. Both wrestlers are down again, gasping for air.

They both start crawling in opposite directions—Rose toward the ropes, FLAMBERGE toward the corner. Rose reaches the ropes first and uses them to pull herself up, favoring her injured arm and her back. FLAMBERGE reaches the corner and grabs the top rope, hauling himself upright. They turn to face each other from across the ring, two warriors who have nothing left to give but refuse to quit. The crowd is on their feet, split perfectly down the middle with dueling chants.

LET’S GO ROSE!

FLAM-BER-GE!

LET’S GO ROSE!

FLAM-BER-GE!

Rose and FLAMBERGE slowly walk toward each other, meeting in the center of the ring. Rose throws a weak European Uppercut. FLAMBERGE responds with a forearm. Rose with another uppercut. FLAMBERGE with another forearm. The strikes get faster, both wrestlers trading shots, neither backing down despite their exhaustion. Rose suddenly breaks the pattern with a Spinning Heel Kick, but FLAMBERGE ducks under it. As Rose spins back around, FLAMBERGE catches her with a devastating Jumping Roundhouse Kick that sends her staggering into the ropes.

Rose bounces off the ropes and comes back with a desperation Sling Blade, taking FLAMBERGE down. Both crash to the mat, and Barlow starts counting them down again.

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

Richard Parker: They both got back up! How are they even moving right now?!

Nick Stuart: Pure willpower, Richard! Neither one wants to be the person who stays down! Neither one wants to give the other that satisfaction!

Rose and FLAMBERGE both make it to their feet at the count of seven, using opposite corners to pull themselves up. Rose suddenly charges across the ring, clearly going for one more big move, but FLAMBERGE catches her charging in and executes a perfect Komi Goshi throw, sending Rose flying through the air. Rose crashes hard but somehow manages to roll through to her feet. She stumbles toward the ropes and grabs the top rope to steady herself. FLAMBERGE is right behind her, and as Rose turns around, he traps her arm over the top rope, stretching it out.

FLAMBERGE delivers three brutal kicks to Rose’s exposed ribs, then transitions, hooking her head and executing a Rope-Assisted Triangle Choke, his legs wrapped around Rose’s head and arm while he uses the ropes for leverage. Rose is trapped, fading, and the crowd is screaming for her to fight out. Rose’s free hand reaches out desperately, and she manages to grab one of the scattered kendo stick pieces from earlier. With the last of her strength, she swings it up and jabs it into FLAMBERGE’s leg repeatedly until he releases the hold.

Both wrestlers fall to the mat, Rose clutching her throat and gasping for air, FLAMBERGE rubbing his leg where the kendo stick struck him. Barlow is checking on both of them, and the crowd is chanting “FIGHT FOREVER” even though both competitors clearly can’t. Rose is the first to move, crawling toward the corner. FLAMBERGE gets to his feet first, watching Rose pull herself up. There’s a look of grim determination on his face now—he knows what he needs to do to end this.

Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE is stalking Rose now… I think he’s looking to put this away once and for all!

Richard Parker: Good! End it before someone gets seriously hurt! Actually, scratch that—they’re already seriously hurt! End it before someone gets KILLED!

FLAMBERGE walks over to Rose in the corner and pulls her up, positioning her on the top turnbuckle. Rose is barely conscious, her body limp as FLAMBERGE climbs up to the second rope with her. He’s setting up for something big—the crowd can sense it. But as FLAMBERGE hooks Rose’s head, she suddenly comes alive, throwing wild elbows and forearms at FLAMBERGE’s head. The shots are desperate and not particularly powerful, but they’re enough to rock FLAMBERGE on the second rope.

Rose grabs FLAMBERGE by the head and delivers a headbutt, then another. FLAMBERGE’s grip loosens, and Rose shoves him off the second rope. FLAMBERGE crashes to the mat, and Rose, running purely on instinct now, stands up on the top rope. The crowd erupts, but Rose isn’t going for a diving move—she’s too exhausted for that. Instead, she steadies herself and waits for FLAMBERGE to get up. As he stumbles to his feet and turns around, Rose leaps off the top rope with a Diving Knee Strike that catches FLAMBERGE square in the face. Both wrestlers go down again, and Rose scrambles to make a cover.

ONE

TWO

THRE—FLAMBERGE KICKS OUT! Rose pounds the mat with her good hand, tears of frustration streaming down her face. She doesn’t know what else to do. She’s hit everything in her arsenal multiple times. She’s taken every risk. She’s left pieces of herself all over this ring. And FLAMBERGE. Keeps. Kicking. Out.

Nick Stuart: What does Rose have to do?! WHAT DOES SHE HAVE TO DO TO WIN THIS MATCH?!

Richard Parker: I don’t think she CAN win it, Nick! I think we’re watching a woman give everything she has and realizing it’s not enough! Sometimes that’s just the cruel reality of this business!

Rose pulls herself up using the ropes, and FLAMBERGE is getting up too, using the opposite set of ropes. They’re both swaying, both barely able to stand, both covered in welts, bruises, and the evidence of the war they’ve been through. Rose looks at FLAMBERGE, and FLAMBERGE looks back at her. The hatred between the two is palpable.

Rose charges forward one more time, throwing a wild Roundhouse Kick. FLAMBERGE ducks it and catches Rose from behind, trapping both of her arms in a straightjacket position. Rose struggles, trying to break free, but FLAMBERGE has her locked up tight. He drags her toward the corner where the turnbuckles are, and with a burst of strength, he lifts Rose up and sits her on the top turnbuckle, facing away from the ring, still controlling her arms.

FLAMBERGE climbs up behind Rose, positioning himself on the second rope. The crowd is buzzing with nervous energy as FLAMBERGE hooks his arm around Rose’s throat from behind while maintaining control of her body with his other arm. He’s setting up for something devastating—a choke of some kind from the top rope. Rose tries to fight, kicking her legs, trying to slip out, but FLAMBERGE’s grip is iron.

Nick Stuart: Oh god, FLAMBERGE is going for something from the top rope! This could be catastrophic!

Richard Parker: He’s got her in a choke, Nick! He’s going to choke her out AND throw her off the top rope! This is going to end badly!

FLAMBERGE locks in the choke fully now—his arm wrapped around Rose’s throat in a rear-naked choke variation. Rose’s struggles become weaker as the choke takes effect, her air cut off, her consciousness fading. But even as her body starts to go limp, even as the fight seems to be leaving her, Rose’s eyes remain open, defiant to the end. She’s not tapping. She won’t tap. She’ll pass out before she gives FLAMBERGE that satisfaction.

FLAMBERGE adjusts his position on the second rope, then stands up to the top rope, bringing Rose with him. They’re both standing on the top turnbuckle now, FLAMBERGE with his arm around Rose’s throat, Rose barely conscious but still somehow standing. The entire stadium is on their feet, the tension unbearable. FLAMBERGE takes a breath, then leaps backward off the top rope, executing a Choke Bomb—falling backward while maintaining the choke and driving Rose down to the mat from the top rope.

The impact is catastrophic. Rose’s body crashes into the mat with FLAMBERGE’s full weight driving her down while his arm remains locked around her throat. The BOOM of the impact echoes through the stadium, and Rose’s body goes completely limp. FLAMBERGE maintains the choke for a moment even after the impact, making sure Rose is completely out, then finally releases it. He doesn’t have the strength to make a proper cover—he just drapes his arm across Rose’s chest, both wrestlers lying in a broken heap in the center of the ring.

Barlow slides into position, checking Rose to make sure she’s still breathing before beginning his count.

ONE

Rose doesn’t move. Her eyes are closed, her body completely still.

TWO

Still nothing. The crowd is silent, knowing what’s about to happen but not wanting to accept it.

THREE

DING DING DING

The bell rings, and the crowd erupts in a mixture of cheers and groans. FLAMBERGE has won, but he’s not celebrating—he can’t. He rolls off Rose and onto his back, staring up at the lights, breathing heavily, his body as broken as hers.

Vince Howard: Your winner… FLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMBERGE!

Nick Stuart: It’s over… FLAMBERGE has won this war, but my god, what a price both of these competitors paid…

Richard Parker: That was… that was one of the most brutal matches I’ve ever called, Nick. Rose gave everything—EVERYTHING—and it still wasn’t enough. But damn if she didn’t make FLAMBERGE earn every bit of this victory.

Barlow raises FLAMBERGE’s arm as he remains on his back on the mat, too exhausted to even stand. Medical personnel rush to the ring to check on both competitors. Rose still hasn’t moved, unconscious from the top rope Choke Bomb. FLAMBERGE slowly, painfully, sits up and looks over at Rose’s motionless body. There’s no love lost here. Just pure hatred. FLAMBERGE would drag her up and do it again if he could. To send a message, a reminder.

Thankfully, he doesn’t.

Nick Stuart: This was a blood feud that got settled the only way it could—with violence, with brutality, with two competitors leaving everything they had in that ring. FLAMBERGE walks out the winner, but Rose… Rose proved she belongs in this conversation. She proved she can hang with anyone on this roster when everything is on the line.

Richard Parker: I’ll give Rose credit, Nick. I didn’t think she had it in her to take FLAMBERGE to this limit. She lost, yes, but she went down swinging, and she made FLAMBERGE work hard for this win, one of his hardest fought victories. Both of these competitors should hold their heads high… assuming they can still move their necks after what they just went through.

FLAMBERGE finally manages to stand. He looks out at the crowd, then down at the carnage in the ring—broken tables, bent chairs, kendo stick pieces scattered everywhere, evidence of the absolute war that just took place. He exits the ring slowly, limping, holding his ribs, a winner but a wounded one.

We cut elsewhere.

From the carnage that was, and the advertisement break allowing us all to get a breather after FLAMBERGE and Rose, we return to ringside. Inside the ring is the ever effervescent Angelica Brooks, dressed to the nines as if she is right off the runway from a Tory Burch Fall/Winter collection showcase.

Angelica Brooks: Folks, it’s hard to believe, but PRIME is about to end its fourth year since returning as the pinnacle in all combat sports. And I think I speak for everyone when I saw that it wouldn’t be possible without all of our fans, be it across the world on the Ace Network, or here tonight in Atlanta.

The audience gives a loud cheer for this.

Angelica Brooks: And while year four is about to close its final chapter, we would be remiss if we did not let everyone know that the ReVival is still going strong. What surprises await in 2026? Where will PRIME go in its fifth year? Without further ado, I present to you, and the world, the official PRIME 2026 Schedule, in full.

With a flare, she throws to the PRIMEView, which comes to life with a video package. Underscoring the festivities is Brutal Fervour by Timur Haisyn.

From the jump, the violin, the rising tenor. Arenas and stadiums filled to the brim with fans of PRIME going absolutely wild, be it in attendance, whether it be waiting to get tickets at the gate. The venues and stadiums cycle, and then, we see them.

The reason for the interest.

Cecilworth Farthington, sauntering to the ring, Universal Championship clasped around his waist. While the future is unknown, we know as of right now that he is poised as this era’s longest reigning and perhaps its most accomplished Universal Champion on record. From there, the massive behemoth, an ageless battle tank that scars the very sky and intimidates all around him. Ivan Stanislav. Bouts and volleys. The road to victory in the Almasy for Chandler Tsonda. Kerry Kuroyama and his impressive string of victories and 5 Star Title defenses. Blaze Claymore becoming the Alias Champion. FLAMBERGE and the collection of necks.

January 16, 2026    ReVival 80    Jose Miguel Agrelot Coliseum; San Jose, Puerto Rico

January 30, 2026    ReVival 81    Arena Monterrey; Monterrey, Mexico

February 13, 2026    ReVival 82    Estadio Chevron; Tiajuana, Mexico

February 27, 2026    ReVival 83    Arena Coliseo; Mexico City, Mexico

March 13, 2026    ReVival 84    Arena Mexico; Mexico City, Mexico

Remnants of the Dual Halo from the Revolution, its winners, the carnage and insanity, giving way to the modern era, The Murder Rumble, War Games, The Manhunt. And as PRIME continues its romp through Mexico, what will this Culture Shock bring?

March 27 + 28, 2025    Culture Shock Nights 1 + 2    Estadio Azteca, Mexico City, Mexico

Hayes Hanlon and Nate Colton, two of the ReVival’s once young guns, turning more and more into its grizzled veterans. The Red Bandits, Hessian and Tony Gamble both already Hall of Famers, now a unit plated with Tag Team gold. Luc LaBalle showcasing his shoot fighting ability. Shark cages and Randall Schwartz. The Bad Dog. Vae Victus. Scott Hunter and his rise to prominence. RIA Lockhart and her return with fire at her back. Jared Sykes making his unexpected return.

April 10, 2026    ReVival 85    TD Garden; Boston, MA

April 24, 2026    ReVival 86    Amica Mutual Pavilion; Providence, RI

May 8, 2026    ReVival 87    Prudential Center; Newark, NJ

May 22, 2026    ReVival 88    UBS Arena; Long Island, NY

June 5, 2026    ReVival 89    Arthur Ashe Stadium; New York City, NY

There is a Slut Truck on the horizon, and a massive mountain of meat in Daytona Diamonds, alongside Rob Williams. Fred Dick and you put over the damn bucket. Brian Dawkins and his descent into chaos and violence. The calculating and haunting visage of Max Kael, grinning.

The flash then moves. To UltraViolence. The text is simple. Coming to us live, from the City of Brotherly Love, the hometown of The Anglo Luchador and Can

Suddenly, it stops. Completely. Black. The shot then goes over the Mercedes Benz Stadium interior, which is also completely bathed in dark.

Uncomfortable. An unfortunate time to lose the power. Are we still live? Are we

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE

LET THE GALAXY BURN

Those filling Mercedes Benz Stadium bellow in a sudden surge. Then, from the darkness, light. Billowing flame, deep with a blue infused reddish hue, fills not just the PRIMEView, but all over screened aspects of the Colossus staging. It envelopes the entire entrance, filtering outward to the darkened crowd. A spotlight focuses central at the height of the ramp.

Bloodsport (World Domination) by HEALTH.

After nearly a year away…Brandon Youngblood stands, stoic in manner. Two time PRIME Universal Champion. Three time 5 Star Champion. PRIME Hall of Famer. The 2022 Wrestler of the Year. The first man to win both the Jewel in the Crown and The Almasy. The first man to successfully defend the PRIME Universal Championship on multiple occasions. The winningest singles competitor in all of PRIME history. If you don’t know, now you do. The din of noise surrounding every avenue around him does nothing to waver him. His wear is simple; black jeans, red high tops, white licensed PRIME apparel. The font across it matches the same gothic at center mass of the PRIMEView.

RISE

Underneath is the diamond logo made synonymous during his ReVival career. The aura farm stretches on for nearly a minute until he starts his descent down the entrance, the spotlight following him as he does so. Nearly halfway down the ramp, a volley of explosive pyrotechnics  deafens, merely amplifying the intensity of the scene. His tread is void of bravado. Something…feels different. Up the ring steps he makes his way, stepping between the ropes, and, for the first time since the main event of Colossus 2024, The Diamond is inside a PRIME ring.

Angelica Brooks’ chin rises slightly as she gives her friend and former Undergroundcast contributor a once over. The two share the subtlest of nods. She can’t help the smile that spreads across her lips. A hug would be expected territory, but instead, she extends the microphone to him, and in so doing, makes her own exit from the squared circle.

His music blaring, the PRIME fans frothing at the mouth, Youngblood stands center of the ring, his eyes surveying the stadium surrounding him. His neck cranes back and forth, taking it all in, yet not affording a bit of expression toward his raucous welcome. Clasping the microphone at his flank, he waits.

Even as Bloodsport fades, their sound does not.

A few seconds turns to thirty. Turns to more. A crack of the neck. He draws the microphone to his lips. The very motion creates another surge. A pause. A seam presents itself.

Finally, he speaks.

Brandon Youngblood: Been a long time.

A pause.

Brandon Youngblood: Too long.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

Brandon Youngblood: There’s a lot I could say right now. There’s a lot I could do. I’m not a revelator. I’m not here to talk about PRIME being home, or about my love of the greatest sport in the world…professional wrestling…and the greatest promotion in the history of all sports…PRIME.

He remains in place.

Brandon Youngblood: I’m not here to talk about what was or what will be. About what I need or what I want. About where I was or why I am here. I’m here for one reason, and one reason only.

A look directly to the audience, then, to the camera.

Brandon Youngblood: I am at the biggest stage PRIME has to offer to put it as clear as can be. I…am back.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

Brandon Youngblood: I am back. Here. Now.

Heavy emphasis given.

Brandon Youngblood: Now. And that’s what’s important right now. Now. Because I didn’t say I am coming back in 2026. I am not making my way back into the squared circle somewhere else. And that comes with a little bad news…because it isn’t tonight. Kerry Kuroyama and Scott Hunter have a date with their own destiny, their own friendship, the 5 Star Championship, that needs settled. And they’re sure as hell ready to tear the roof off this place.

A momentary trail off.

Brandon Youngblood: But I’m not waiting long. Less than twenty-four hours from now, I will be back in this ring, ready to wrestle, ready to fight, ready to go. And some might think that means an open challenge. But it isn’t. Colossus is the night of all nights in PRIME. It always has been. It’s the biggest stage on offer. And I know that. You all know that. And the ‘man’ I am fighting damn sure knows it too.

For the first time, the former two-time Universal Champion flashes a smirk.

Brandon Youngblood: Twenty-four hours. Colossus…2025…Night Two. The stage. The ring. I know you can’t deny it. I know what it makes you feel inside that pit you call guts. Twenty-four hours. If you aren’t in Atlanta, this is your warning to get here. Whether it’s by land…by sea…by boat…

Wait…

Brandon Youngblood: That’s the amount of time you got to get here and put it. Because you won’t get this stage every again. You won’t get this chance ever again. Twenty-four hours.

Brandon Youngblood: Twenty-four hours. Brandon Youngblood…

Is this…

Brandon Youngblood: …versus…

Is it really?

Brandon Youngblood: Cancer. Jiles.

The very implication of such a titanic battle creates and absolute frenzy through the audience.

Brandon Youngblood: Rise.

He drops the microphone to the canvas, staring out to the crowd. He turns around, facing the PRIMEView.

And across its face?

The Diamond.

The COOLYMPIAN.

Youngblood/Jiles III.

Colossus. Night Two.

Pucker.

Kiss.

Oh yeah.

It’s official.

And as Bloodsport once again begins to play, as the fans continue to lose their collective minds at the feud that launched a pro wrestling ReVival, as Brandon Youngblood takes his leave from the ring, we fade to an Ace Network programming commercial, followed by some PRIMEPorium goodies.

Take us home, Hunter and Kuroyama.

Nick Stuart: I can’t believe what we just saw. Brandon Youngblood with a surprise return here in Atlanta, and will apparently be in action tomorrow night for the first time in a year against Cancer Jiles!

Richard Parker: UGGGGHHHHH I thought Jiles was gone for good, and now Mister bLoOd fOr tHe bLoOd gOd has to bring him back? I hope Youngblood gets a splinter under his thumbnail.

Nick Stuart: We’ve got to keep it moving to our main event, Rich. We just saw Rose and FLAMBERGE go at it in a brutally long, absolutely bloody war. Talk about a contrast in styles between what we just witnessed and what we’re about to see!

Richard Parker: No kidding – the Five Star Title is always defended in extremely technical matches. We’re not going to see weapons tonight, and we’re DEFINITELY going to have “some” holds barred.

Nick Stuart: You’re absolutely right, partner – tonight’s main event is for the Five Star Title! Kerry Kuroyama has elevated himself to new heights with each successive defense, but tonight, he’s facing an opponent unlike any he’s seen so far in this reign.

Richard Parker: Very true – Scott Hunter’s one of a kind, and he goes back quite a long way with the champion!

Nick Stuart: Tensions have been escalating over recent weeks, to the point where we’ve called upon the services of maybe the one man who has a chance to keep things civil between the former Wingmen…

“None the Wiser” by Caned By Nod blasts through the arena speakers.

Nick Stuart: And speaking of!

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is our MAIN EVENT, and it is for the Five Star Championship! Introducing first, tonight’s special guest referee, CLAYYY BYYYYYRD!

A hulking giant cowboy with a black and white striped referee’s shirt with cut off sleeves emerges to the stage and raises a fist high in the air – but he’s not alone.

Richard Parker: Wait a minute – look there, on Clay’s shoulder. Is that what I think it is?

Nick Stuart: I think so!

On Clay’s shoulder sits Kerry Koalayama looking mellowed out and chill as hell, possibly unaware of where he is right now (two guesses as to why). Clay waves at Vince Howard to get his attention, and once gained, he points to his koala companion. Vince is visibly confused; Byrd then signals for Howard to reach into his back pocket. Howard obliges, and is surprised to find a folded slip of paper inside. He unfolds it and reads aloud.

Vince Howard: …and also introducing tonight’s special guest timekeeper…

He looks out at Clay Byrd with a quizzical expression; Byrd nods for him to continue.

Vince Howard: …Kerry Koalayama!

YEAHHHHHHH!

Nick Stuart: …I wonder how you train a koala to ring a wrestling bell.

Richard Parker: “A” koala? No chance. “This” koala? …I’m willing to find out!

Clay makes his way over to the timekeeper’s table and gently places Koalayama next to the ring bell and hammer, giving it a little head scritch before making his way to the ring. With enormous strides, he steps over the top rope and makes his way to the corner, awaiting tonight’s competitors.

…

“Burning Heart” by Survivor plays over the PA. The stock Vae Victis video package on the PRIMEview is suddenly interrupted by a blue and yellow “HUNTERMANIA!!” streaking across the big screen. The crowd pops loud as Scott Hunter strides onto the stage, wearing very special blue and yellow gear that is slightly nicer than his normal blue and yellow gear, and we know this because there’s yellow lightning bolts across his butt. He’s got a blue and yellow feather boa draped over his shoulders and he can’t help but cup his ear to the crowd as he makes his way down the ramp.

Vince Howard: Introducing THE CHALLENGER! From Miami, Florida, weighing in at 245 pounds…THE SCOTTSTER! SCOTT! HUNTERRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Scott pumps his arms with great energy and pomp as he makes his way to the ring. Clay can only shake his head at the boa, especially after Scott gently places it in Byrd’s arms. Byrd chucks it over his shoulder to the floor, where a helpful PRIME young boy darts in and removes it from ringside.

The PA bumps with “Blouses Blue” by Konrad OldMoney and Sleep Steady. Light suddenly fills the arena when the PRIMEview powers up to a view of animated green and gold scales whooshing by. After a moment, a gilded DRAGON flies into full view, and ROARS into the screen!

KRACKA-BOOOOOMMM!!

A flashing pillar of levin suddenly EXPLODES over the stage, accompanied by a colorful array of green, silver, and gold pyrotechnics. A series of spotlights arrange themselves into a triangular pattern, with the point of focus resting upon the head of the rampway.

Kerry Kuroyama emerges, accompanied by the Rain City Ronin from DEFIANCE Wrestling. All three have championship gold strapped tightly around their waist, and as more pyro shoots off, they all unstrap their titles at the same time, raising their gold high into the air in one fluid motion.

Vince Howard: AAAAND HIS OPPONENT! From Seattle, Washington, weighing in at 244 pounds…he is the FIVE STAR CHAMPION…THE EMERALLLLLLD APEX…KERRYYYYYYYY KUROYAMAAAAAAAAAAA!

Kerry bumps fists with both Ronin before heading down to the ring, alone. The DEFIANCE tag champions make their exit back through the stage after sharing silent knowing nods towards their man.

Nick Stuart: A sign of solidarity tonight, and how interesting of a dynamic that’s become to the PRIME audience.

Richard Parker: Scott and Kerry used to be close like that, too. In the past, Scott might have even been the one in Kerry’s corner – but tonight, he’s looking to take that championship belt for himself.

Kerry’s eyes remain fixated squarely on the ring as he comes down the aisle. When he reaches ringside, he hops straight to the apron and steps through ropes with all the briskness and tenacity of a caged lion.

He climbs the turnbuckle and raises the Five Star Title once more to a massive pop from the crowd. Crossing the ring to repeat the action on the other corner, he momentarily pauses to stare down the opponent with a face that plainly gives off FAFO energy. Then he climbs the next turnbuckle, and raises the belt to more cheers.

Clay’s starting to get annoyed at this and approaches Kerry, holding out his hand. Kerry looks back at Clay blankly before handing him the Five Star Title. Clay holds it aloft in the center of the ring – but accidentally upside-down. He’s not used to the referee gig, it seems.

Kerry and Scott stare across the ring at each other. Nothing’s exploding yet, but we can see the tension bubbling beneath the surface.

Byrd points at Kerry Koalayama, who almost gives a high smile as he slowly lifts the ring bell hammer.

DING DING

Nick Stuart: Tonight’s main event match! Two men with so much history, and championship gold on the line! Here we go!

Kerry is all business as he circles the outside of the ring, arms poised up, ready to grapple. Scott’s a little more fired up, beating his chest and pumping up the crowd, swinging his right arm to loosen his shoulder. Clay rests his huge arms on the top ropes as he leans into a neutral corner, watching two buddies he’s concerned about, but for now trying to stay out of things.

Kerry and Scott lock up, and it’s SNUG, but clean. They match each other power for power as they wrangle each other’s collar and elbow, looking for any small window they can find. Hunter slips on a sneaky side headlock, which Kerry reverses into a rear wristlock! Scott keeps his balance under his feet and throws a short back elbow to Kuroyama’s abdomen to gain a little space. It’s just enough for him to reverse the hold into a rear wristlock of his own!

Clay isn’t checking for submissions, because no one’s even close to being there. Kerry Koalayama is stoned and snuggling the ring bell.

The two men look for counters and more counters – Kerry goes for the first lift, a vertical suplex, but Scott blocks it! He reverses momentum and connects with a vertical suplex of his own! Kerry pops up to his feet quickly, and Scott charges in with a big lariat – Kerry not only ducks, he throws a low sweeping kick that connects! Scott goes tumbling forward, crashing into the ring ropes! Kerry tries to extricate Scott by the ankle, but Scott kicks him away! Hunter charges forward – a leaping shoulder tackle sends Kuroyama to the mat! He goes for a quick cover, but before Byrd can even leave his corner, Kerry’s got a shoulder up and is practically on a knee.

Nick Stuart: Quick pace so far, wouldn’t you say?

Richard Parker: These two know each other so well, and when you know each other that well, the feeling out process can look a little more like a sprint. They know what the other can do and they know that moving too slowly is only going to cause problems.

Nick Stuart: We can’t forget, partner, that they went as far as training in separate locations in the lead-up to this thing…though we haven’t seen anything too unusual yet.

Before Kerry’s all the way up, Scott has him in a front facelock, and he throws a sharp knee into Kerry’s jaw, which causes Clay to finally step out of the corner. Scott throws another sharp knee strike, which drops Kerry to his own knees, a bit dazed. Scott releases the facelock and charges into the ropes – rebounds – and leaps with a cross body to the kneeling Kuroyama! It connects! He lays across Kerry’s chest and Clay is there for the count!

ONE!

Kerry pushes Scott off of him and scrambles to the ropes, as Scott rolls through and gets to his feet. He doesn’t allow Kuroyama to gain a lot of rest, returning to an earlier idea of which he had been on the receiving end earlier in the match, pulling at Kerry’s ankle to get him out of the ropes. However, unlike Scott, Kerry yelps out in pain at this ankle-wrenching action.

Nick Stuart: Hayes Hanlon did a lot of damage to that ankle not very long ago, and look at Scott Hunter – that’s an ankle lock! An ankle lock submission!

Richard Parker: Is he now the inventor of TWO submissions??

Clay hollers at Scott that he can’t pull that shit when Kerry’s in the ropes, but by the time he’s gotten the full idea out, Scott has pulled Kerry back with enough force that Kuroyama no longer has a hand on a rope at all. They’re near the center of the ring, Clay rolls his eyes and lets Scott know he’s keeping an eye on that, before checking in with Kerry.

Clay Byrd: You feel like quitting?

Kuroyama shakes his head before summoning his strength to whip his leg up over his body like a scorpion’s tail, causing Scott to lose his balance and stumble, breaking the hold. The two gain a little distance from each other, Kerry ever-so-slightly favoring one leg, Scott catching his breath. They circle each other once again, and in the briefest of moments, we see Kerry wince and awkwardly half-roll the ankle Scott previously attacked; seeing an opening Scott charges in for the chop block!

WHICK!

BUT KUROYAMA IS QUICKER! He takes a quick shuffle step forward and throws a knee strike, which crashes into Scott Hunter’s nose! They both go down, Scott face-first, Kerry grimacing and holding his leg before scurrying over, rolling his friend to his shoulders, and getting an arm across Hunter’s chest!

ONE!

TW- Hunter gets the shoulder up!

Nick Stuart: We’re starting to see a few new counters to the counters, partner – big risk/reward offense from the defending Five Star Champion there.

Richard Parker: Everyone’s got a plan until they get a knee to the face – that’s how the line goes, right?

Nick Stuart: Close enough.

Richard Parker: Maybe sacrificing the leg a little bit is worth it if you can scramble the jets, is all I’m saying.

Scott rolls to his corner, shaking the cobwebs out and checking his nose for blood – thankfully, none yet, and he doesn’t think his face is actually broken. Always a positive.

Kerry scoots over to his own corner, using the ropes to get back to vertical, testing his weight on each leg – not ideal, but he’s fought with worse, and this is the biggest stage in wrestling.

Scott leaves his corner first and has some pep in his step – he fires up the crowd some more, mullet flowing in the air, signaling for some classic throwback babyfacin’. Kerry sees this and steps out of his own corner, cautiously stepping forward. Before Kerry can lock in another collar-and-elbow, a quick jab from Scott! Another jab! Another! He wiiiiiinds up big…

OHHHHHHH…

And goes for the big right cross!

Kerry dodges! He grabs a hold under Scott’s punching arm, then the other, then SLAMS him to the mat with a snapdragon suplex! As Scott staggers to his feet, he’s sent right back down with a GORGEOUS standing drop kick from the champion! Kerry steps back, measures, and when the timing is right, he charges forward…

SQUALL LINE LARIAT CONNECTS! SCOTT HUNTER IS SENT ASS-OVER-TEAKETTLE TO THE MAT!

Kerry hooks the far leg, and Clay wheels around for the count!

ONE!

TWO!

Scott gets the shoulder up!

Kerry smacks the mat, not letting out too much frustration, but with enough force to remind him that this is the moment to press Scott.

He scoops up Scott and hooks a leg in the classic fisherman suplex position. He lifts Scott up – and holds him perfectly vertically!

The fans get to their feet as Kerry holds, and holds, and holds Scott Hunter straight up to the sky by the head and leg…and then –

BOOOOM!

Nick Stuart: DELAYED FISHERMAN BRAINBUSTER! My goodness!

Richard Parker: Scott wasn’t ready for that one!

Nick Stuart: Here’s the cover!

ONE!

TWO!

TH-

SCOTT GETS THE SHOULDER UP!

RAAAAHHHHH!

Kerry looks up to Clay to make sure he understood what just happened, and Clay emphatically holds up two fingers. Kuroyama’s face changes a bit, and he’s starting to show signs of real frustration as he launches to the back of Scott Hunter and locks in a rear naked choke!

Clay Byrd meanders over to Scott’s line of sight and checks in.

Clay Byrd: Hey man, what about you – feel like quitting?

Scott shakes his head.

Clay Byrd: Alright, then.

Byrd then saunters to the closest corner he can lean into, absolutely watching the action, but not actively checking Hunter for the submission. Kerry sees this and flashes a confused look at the special guest referee, who responds with a vague gesture towards Scott.

Clay Byrd: He ain’t tappin’, man!

Kerry decides to release the rear naked choke and grabs one of his legs. He wraps, steps over, and locks in the stepover toehold sleeper!

Nick Stuart: When a regular choke hold just won’t do – it’s the Cascadian Clutch!

Richard Parker: Scott’s turning a little purple there, this one might win the match!

This time, Clay actively checks in with Scott for the submission, staying close by with eyes on his face. Scott uses all the strength he can muster to army crawl one, arm, at, a, time, until he reeeeeaches out…

…and grabs the bottom rope! The crowd cheers at this, and Clay claps as well…but Kerry hasn’t released the hold. He’s got it absolutely locked the hell in. Clay’s referee instincts are not fully developed, and so it takes him a few moments before he realizes that it’s his job to deal with this now.

Clay Byrd: Hey man, you gotta let go! One! …Two! …Three! …Four, Kerry, are you kidding me? Come on, man!

A few boos start to pepper the crowd as Kuroyama keeps the hold applied. Clay physically intervenes and begins to pull Kerry off of Scott, and finally Kerry lets go. Clay goes to check in on Scott to make sure he’s actually ready to continue with the match. Seeing this, Kerry puts a hand on Clay’s shoulder and yells out. Clay does NOT take this well, and he turns and bumps Kerry chest-to-chest. They get into a shouting match back and forth.

Kerry Kuroyama: Scott doesn’t need you to baby him, Clay!

Clay Byrd: You’re being an asshole and you know it, Kerry!

Kerry Koalayama has shifted a bit and now sits on top of the ring bell. His eyes search for snacks which his body’s too stoned to retrieve.

Kerry and Clay continue shouting at each other for a few moments before Clay dismissively disengages. Kerry looks over to Clay one more time and shakes his head.

…

Which is immediately interrupted by a SPEAR FROM SCOTT HUNTER!

Nick Stuart: Good GRAVY what a spear!

Richard Parker: Kerry almost lost his boots!

Scott beats his chest like a gorilla and roars out to the crowd!

RAAAAAH!

He follows it up by grabbing Kerry’s head, lifting, spinning…and PLANTING Kuroyama with a spinout blue thunder bomb!

He pushes Kerry’s legs up and reaches through with a palm to the chest for a cover!

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-KICKOUT!!

Scott doesn’t hesitate! He grabs Kerry’s legs and looks out to the enormous crowd here at Colossus! He spins, twists, kicks a foot up…and locks in the Figure Four! The crowd is on their feet!

Nick Stuart: He’s got it locked in, partner! The move Scott Hunter made famous – the Figure Four!

Richard Parker: With the bad leg, too!

Kerry frantically pulls at his own hair and writhes around in pain as Scott does everything he can to hold on tight! Clay checks in with Kerry and stays close by!

Clay Byrd: WHAT DO YOU SAY, KERRY?

Kerry Koalayama perks up (for him) and looks for the hammer he may need in order to ring the bell.

Scott arches up to his head and bridges the Figure Four!

Nick Stuart: Scott Hunter’s won big matches with this! Is this the move that brings him the Five Star Title??

As he bridges the hold, sweat pours down and his whole body shakes with exertion. Kerry is hanging on for absolute dear life, his palm occasionally hovering over the mat, each time closing to a fist before his survival instincts might take over and force him to tap out.

Scott yells out.

Kerry yells out.

Clay’s hands are on his head.

Koalayama’s eyes are open.

…

With every last ounce of strength he can muster…

Kerry pivots his hips hard to the side…and he REVERSES THE FIGURE FOUR! Both men are off their backs, and Clay wheels around to check in on Scott, who’s now the one in danger!

Nick Stuart: I can’t believe it! Kerry’s gotten out of the Figure Four!

Richard Parker: Scott’s gotta break out of this thing before his own legs start to go!

After a few more beats, there is a violent kicking of legs between the men, and they finally disengage. Neither one seems eager or inclined to get to their feet – they’re bringing in DEEP breaths, full recovery mode. The Colossus crowd applauds both men’s efforts to this point.

Nick Stuart: Both men have dished out and absorbed some big time power offense, and some new wrinkles to their arsenal – but as we just saw, it may come down to whichever man can land the final haymaker, and it may come down to doing what they do best.

Richard Parker: I thought Kuroyama was done for sure – when Scott Hunter bridges his Figure Four leglock, it’s one of the most devastating moves in all of professional wrestling. It had to take some unreal core strength for Kerry to roll out of danger!

Nick Stuart: That’s Colossus for you, partner – we’re seeing PRIME athletes at their absolute best!

It seems like neither Kerry nor Scott is inclined to be the first to get to their feet. Clay Byrd’s slowly-developing instincts kick in once again, as he begins a ten count.

Both men stir at about four. Both men use the ropes to get vertical. The way Kerry’s avoiding putting pressure on his leg tells us a major developing story. Scott’s drawing in big breaths, but of the two, he seems a little better off. He’s not limping, at least.

By seven, they’re both vertical, and Scott’s making his way across to the champion. He throws a jab, which connects. Kerry responds with an open-palm slap. A punch from Scott, a slap from Kerry. Back and forth they go, until Scott blocks a slap! He connects with another jab, jab, jab, and winds up once again for the big right cross!

Kerry wraps him up before the punch can be thrown and barrels both men into the ropes! Kerry Irish Whips Scott across the ring; Scott rebounds off the ropes and charges forward, only for Kerry to leap over! On the next rebound, Kerry goes for the low bridge, which Scott nimbly hops over! Another rebound, another leap from Kerry – but this time Scott halts all his momentum at the perfect time! He catches Kerry in a powerbomb position!

BOOOOM!

Kuroyama is PLANTED in the center of the ring! Scott staggers a bit and stumbles towards his corner, and as he steps his foot on the bottom rope, he points out to the crowd and swirls his finger in the air!

Nick Stuart: Hunter’s looking for something big here!

Richard Parker: He’s not known as a top rope guy! What’s he got planned?

Hunter methodically climbs up the second, then the top rope, and he tentatively balances himself on the top turnbuckle! His back is to the ring as he slowly raises his arms to his sides! He swirls his finger around in the air one more time as the crowd gets to their feet! He looks like he’s ready to fly…

…

BUT KERRY’S SPRUNG TO HIS FEET! He charges into Scott’s corner and shoves at Hunter’s lower body!

THUNK – THONKKKKK – THUD

Hunter loses his balance and tumbles off the top turnbuckle – but it’s ugly, and bad. First, his shoulder hits the ring post. Then, the back of his head hits the top step. Then, his tailbone hits the outside floor.

Nick Stuart: Ohhhhh no…

Kerry’s hands are on his head out of instinct, and maybe a little fear. Clay immediately makes his way out of the ring and he hops to the floor near Scott to check on him. Scott’s not immediately responsive, and we see a flash of panic in Clay’s face.

Richard Parker: I think the corner of the ring step might have got him right in the back of his head, partner.

Nick Stuart: Kuroyama, in the ring now, obviously very distressed at what’s just happened. Sure, he wanted to stop Scott from hitting him with a big move, but I don’t think he expected such a rough landing.

Richard Parker: Is Scott alright? Are we going to have to call this match now?? It’s the main event, partner – no one wants that!

Nick Stuart: You’re absolutely right about that, but Colossus or no, if Scott’s seriously injured, the decision is out of anybody’s hands.

Clay yells out again at Scott; and thankfully, to the great relief of everyone with eyes, we see Scott’s hands move, then his feet. He sits up, leaning his back against the ring steps he just crashed into. It’s hard to tell based on his facial expression if he’s concussed, or if he’s just Scott Being Scott.

Kuroyama’s hands are still on his head. He makes his way to the ropes and looks out over top – Clay yells sharply at Kerry to back off, and to Kerry’s credit, he makes it clear that he’s not about to go for the kill. Not like this.

Not to his friend.

The concerned relief starts to turn to a swell of positivity and cheering as Scott’s able to make it up to his feet. Clay checks on him, moves a finger around Scott’s face to see if his eyes will track it, and the glazed look that overtook Scott’s face seems to be fading away, replacing itself with the fiery look of a main event championship contender. He nods at Clay to indicate that he’s ready to continue.

Clay Byrd: You’re sure? No takebacks?

Scott Hunter: NO TAKESIES BACKSIES!

And Scott smacks Clay in the pec for good measure, which makes the Cowboy of Colossus break a little bit. Scott turns towards the ring and looks ready to hop back onto the apron – when he locks eyes with Kerry.

Nick Stuart: Look at this, partner.

Richard Parker: I’m looking!

Kuroyama is sitting on the middle rope and has the top rope lifted up, resting over his shoulder. He’s inviting Scott back in, and he nods to his opponent earnestly and sincerely. Scott hesitates for a brief moment, and as he slowly steps through the ropes, he keeps his eyes locked in on the challenger. After making it all the way back in, he returns an earnest nod back. Kerry gets off the middle rope and both men simultaneously slap hands, to a big cheer from the crowd.

Nick Stuart: Sportsmanship in PRIME – you love to see it!

Richard Parker: …maybe YOU do!

Clay’s now back in the ring as well and he checks on both competitors, both of whom emphatically nod that they’re ready to continue. With that, Clay points towards both competitors, and then towards the middle of the ring, signalling to re-engage.

Both men pretend to have more peps in their steps than they likely do in reality. Kerry steps forward to initiate the engagement first this time – but before they can lock up, a jab from Scott! Another jab! And he winds up…

OHHHHHH…

And FINALLY connects with an absolute bomb of a right hook! Kerry is sent to the mat! Scott looks to follow up with a big elbow drop – Kerry rolls out of the way and springs to his feet! He throws an enzuigiri, which connects and sends Scott crashing down! Kerry looks to follow up with a knee drop – Scott rolls out of the way this time!

Scott scrambles up just in time for Kerry to come charging in with a shotgun drop kick to the chest that sends Scott crashing back-first into the corner! Scott’s momentum forces him to rebound out of the corner, and Kerry plants him with a Japanese arm drag! He goes for a quick cover!

ONE!

TWO!

Scott reverses!

Inside cradle!

ONE!

TWO!

Kerry reverses and sits on Scott’s chest!

ONE!

TWO!

Scott scrambles out! Kerry comes charging in with a lariat, which Scott ducks! He positions himself behind Kuroyama – dragon screw leg whip to the bad leg! Kerry yells out and clutches at his knee! Scott looks for another leg whip, and he gets it!

Nick Stuart: Scott Hunter’s back on the attack and if he gets another Figure Four locked in, it may be all over!

Richard Parker: He’s going after that leg HARD – another dragon screw!

Kerry’s not in a good place – on his back, near Scott’s corner, and having been dragon screwed three times now. Scott grabs Kerry’s bad ankle, and then his good one, and begins to wrangle and twist in search of locking in the Figure Four one more time!

In a mad scramble, Kerry uses pure adrenaline and maximum exertion to pull himself by his arms and torso closer and closer to the ropes, until finally he grabs onto the bottom one! Clay goes over to Scott to begin a five count to release the hold – and to Clay’s surprise (and possibly Kerry’s), Scott releases at one.

Richard Parker: He could’ve done more damage if he returned the favor from that Cascadian Clutch earlier in the match!

Nick Stuart: Some things are bigger than revenge, partner – I think we’re seeing both men grow a little bit.

Richard Parker: At least wait until two or three, is all I’m saying! He doesn’t have to CHEAT cheat to still grow a little bit, you know?

Nick Stuart: …I do not know, no.

As Kerry gets to his feet and looks over at Scott, a wave of understanding starts to crash over him, because the adrenaline surge that had been pushing Scott onwards ever since he crashed and burned to the floor outside the ring seems to be running out, and Scott looks like he’s in a lot of pain. It may not have been mercy that led Scott to release at one – he might be holding onto whatever’s left in the tank.

Scott waves at Kerry to bring it on, and both men grin a little bit. The grins pick up a little bit more as Scott lowers imaginary singlet straps down from each shoulder. Clay looks on at both men. Koalayama has been provided with corn chips.

They lock up once more, in a collar-and-elbow that’s just as snug now at minute 20-plus as it was at minute one. With a burst of energy, Scott lifts Kerry high into the air in a vertical suplex position! He holds him up, letting the blood rush down into Kerry’s head – but before he can complete his signature delayed vertical suplex, he buckles just ever so slightly – enough that Kerry can use the momentum from this to get his feet back down onto the mat. Kerry reverses, and plants Scott with a vertical suplex instead.

Scott slowly makes his way to a neutral corner, and as he slowly turns around, he’s met with a

BANG

of a Yakuza kick, and Scott Hunter’s lights are close to going out.

Kerry approaches, and lifts his friend onto his shoulders.

He closes his eyes for a minute, knowing that this is what he has to do. And that it’s going to be ok.

Emerald Flowsion.

Nick Stuart: KURRRROOOOOYAAAAMAAAA DRIVERRRRRR TWOOOOOOO!

Kerry hooks both legs!

ONE!

TWO!

THR…EEEEEEE!

Clay signals to Koalayama, who’s ready with the hammer!

DING DING DING

Kerry immediately releases the pin and tries to hug Scott, who’s still flat on the mat. Even as green confetti begins to pour into the arena and “Blouses Blue” blasts through the speakers, he’s not letting go.

Soon, Scott’s free arm lifts up, and he returns the bro hug.

Vince Howard: THEEEEEE WINNER OF THIS MATCH, AAAAAAND STIIIIIIILL FIVE STAR CHAMPION! THE EMERALD APEX! KERRYYYYYYY KUROYAMAAAAAAAAAA!

Both Kerry and Clay help Scott get up to his feet – and with the adrenaline of competition wearing off and the necessary pretense of “don’t show weakness, don’t show weakness” fading away, we can see that Kerry’s only comfortable hopping on one leg.

Kerry looks into his friend’s eyes.

Kerry Kuroyama: That was ALL luck.

Scott Hunter: Nah…you deserved it.

And they go in for a big time bro hug to major cheers from the crowd. Clay straps the Five Star championship around Kerry’s waist mid-hug before coming in like a bear with one arm around each VVingman. After they let go, Clay raises one arm of each man high in the air – so high that they almost lift off their tippy toes.

Nick Stuart: The Wingmen may finally be back on the same page, and all it took was an EXTREMELY competitive championship match!

Richard Parker: When I tell you that I was CERTAIN we were about to see Five Star Scott Hunter…I think on another night, maybe one where he doesn’t take a crazy knock on the dome like he did tonight with those ring steps, we’d have a new champ. What a match!

Nick Stuart: Well with that, folks, we are now halfway through our two-night Colossus special! We saw blood, we saw tears, we saw surprises, and in tonight’s main event, we saw Kerry Kuroyama retain the Five Star Championship in an incredibly competitive contest with fellow Wingman, Scott Hunter! Make sure to join us tomorrow night for even more action!

On the screen, we see running graphics for the Night Two matches:

TAG TEAM TITLES

THE RED BANDITS (TONY GAMBLE/HESSIAN) (c) vs. POOR WHORESMEN (DAYTONA DIAMONDS/ROB WILLIAMS)

NATE COLTON vs. HAYES HANLON

INTENSE TITLE

FRED DICK (c) vs. WADE ELLIOTT

TWO OUT OF THREE FALLS

LINDSAY TROY vs. MATT WARD

BRANDON YOUNGBLOOD vs. CANCER JILES

IVAN STANISLAV vs. JARED SYKES

UNIVERSAL TITLE

CECILWORTH FARTHINGTON (c) vs. CHANDLER TSONDA

The last image we see tonight is Kerry and Scott, arms over each other’s shoulders, making their way up the ramp, followed by Clay Byrd with Kerry Koalayama on his shoulder; green confetti; and a loud, cheering crowd.

FADE.

TO.

BLACK.