COLOSSUS 2023 NIGHT ONE
Do you remember?Ā
Snapping in from black, the cameraās frame is zoomed close to a pair of closed eyelids. Aged, with slight discolorations and wrinkles.
Do you remember when the Specialist brought down Ignatius?
A hazy flashback to Tony Rolo rising from the body of Ignatius Lisieux, handed the then Global Title at the first Colossus. A dull shockwave murmurs through time and space.
It stops Crash Jackson in his tracks as he makes way down the streets of New Orleans. He pulls off his shades, eyes searching for the source.
From a park bench, elbows on his knees, Rob Williams lifts his gaze to the sky, the murmur stealing his thoughts.
The eyelids flutter.
Do you remember when the son of Duke Williams conquered the PRIME Cut?Ā
Hoyt rolls to his back in the center of the ring, exhausted from his battle with Killean Sirrajin, the Second Son of God earning the honor of the Universal Titleās 5th champion at Colossus II.
Daytona Diamonds comes to a screeching halt in his pickup, removing his hat as the shockwave rumbles through.
Don Winters lifts his head from the good book, curious at the tone.
Or when the Wrecking Ball did the very same?
The InHuman Being plants Sirrajin with the Downfall, claiming the greatest prize in wrestling at Colossus III.
Rose narrows her eyes, staring through a window as it vibrates from the tremor.
Through the window of his home, the wave grips the attention of The Anglo Luchador, and he replies with a small grin.
The eyeballs dart left and right behind the eyelids, frantic.
Do you remember when the Queen broke the Curse?
Lindsay Troy rolls over with everything she has left, draping an arm across the chest of Sonny Silver, the count of three breaking the dreaded Universal Title Curse at Colossus IV.
Brandon Youngblood does flinch as the shockwave cuts through. He spits to the ground, and pulls a hood over his head.
Tony Gambleās perma-grin manages to grow even more, swirling a drink in a dive bar.
When the Viet Viper broke the Man in Black?
Chandler Tsondaās limber frame connects a corkscrew moonsault to Devin Shakur, the finishing touch after a grueling match at Colossus V to win the Universal Title.
Coral Avalon, sweat-covered in his training ring, sits up from the mat, his head turning toward the entrance as the building shudders.
And Chandler Tsonda, the Alias Champion, smiles from the back seat of his car, cruising slow through the streets of New Orleans.
Sweat beads on the eyelids, fluttering wildly.
Do you remember our history?
Jonathan-Christopher Hall stops dead in his tracks, entering the Superdome just as the tremor rushes by, forcing him to stumble.
Cecilworth Farthington, in a leather chair at Farthington Manor, lifts his gaze from his phone, perturbed at the annoyance.
And then, as the scene quiets like a shock, the eyelids snap open, black pupils against blue irises, dilating.
Zooming out, the aged, tired face of an old man in a hospital bed. Wrinkled skin, thin facial hair, breathing heavily through his nose.
Or are you doomed to repeat it?
With one last dull tremor, sounding deep, the screen turns black.
The PRIME logo flashes.
Then, one word in bold white.
COLOSSUS.
Do you remember?Ā
Snapping in from black, the cameraās frame is zoomed close to a pair of closed eyelids. Aged, with slight discolorations and wrinkles.
Do you remember when the Specialist brought down Ignatius?
A hazy flashback to Tony Rolo rising from the body of Ignatius Lisieux, handed the then Global Title at the first Colossus. A dull shockwave murmurs through time and space.
It stops Crash Jackson in his tracks as he makes way down the streets of New Orleans. He pulls off his shades, eyes searching for the source.
From a park bench, elbows on his knees, Rob Williams lifts his gaze to the sky, the murmur stealing his thoughts.
The eyelids flutter.
Do you remember when the son of Duke Williams conquered the PRIME Cut?Ā
Hoyt rolls to his back in the center of the ring, exhausted from his battle with Killean Sirrajin, the Second Son of God earning the honor of the Universal Titleās 5th champion at Colossus II.
Daytona Diamonds comes to a screeching halt in his pickup, removing his hat as the shockwave rumbles through.
Don Winters lifts his head from the good book, curious at the tone.
Or when the Wrecking Ball did the very same?
The InHuman Being plants Sirrajin with the Downfall, claiming the greatest prize in wrestling at Colossus III.
Rose narrows her eyes, staring through a window as it vibrates from the tremor.
Through the window of his home, the wave grips the attention of The Anglo Luchador, and he replies with a small grin.
The eyeballs dart left and right behind the eyelids, frantic.
Do you remember when the Queen broke the Curse?
Lindsay Troy rolls over with everything she has left, draping an arm across the chest of Sonny Silver, the count of three breaking the dreaded Universal Title Curse at Colossus IV.
Brandon Youngblood does flinch as the shockwave cuts through. He spits to the ground, and pulls a hood over his head.
Tony Gambleās perma-grin manages to grow even more, swirling a drink in a dive bar.
When the Viet Viper broke the Man in Black?
Chandler Tsondaās limber frame connects a corkscrew moonsault to Devin Shakur, the finishing touch after a grueling match at Colossus V to win the Universal Title.
Coral Avalon, sweat-covered in his training ring, sits up from the mat, his head turning toward the entrance as the building shudders.
And Chandler Tsonda, the Alias Champion, smiles from the back seat of his car, cruising slow through the streets of New Orleans.
Sweat beads on the eyelids, fluttering wildly.
Do you remember our history?
Jonathan-Christopher Hall stops dead in his tracks, entering the Superdome just as the tremor rushes by, forcing him to stumble.
Cecilworth Farthington, in a leather chair at Farthington Manor, lifts his gaze from his phone, perturbed at the annoyance.
And then, as the scene quiets like a shock, the eyelids snap open, black pupils against blue irises, dilating.
Zooming out, the aged, tired face of an old man in a hospital bed. Wrinkled skin, thin facial hair, breathing heavily through his nose.
Or are you doomed to repeat it?
With one last dull tremor, sounding deep, the screen turns black.
The PRIME logo flashes.
Then, one word in bold white.
COLOSSUS.
New Orleans.
Superdome.
Fireworks.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
New Orleans.
Superdome.
Signs.
FFFFFAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRā
TSIGN
IāM HERE FOR THE CATERING
DARIN ZION CANāT AFFORD A WIN
HIS NAME IS TSONDA. TSONDA TSKYWALKER.
WHAT IS LOVE? CECIL DONāT HURT NO MORE
NOT ROOTING FOR TAL? THEREāS THE LUCHA-DOOR
THEREāS NO COLOSSYOU. THEREāS NO COLOSSME. THEREāS JUST COLOSSUS.
IāM GOING TO BE LATE TO THE SHOW, IāM GETTING A COLONOSCOPOSSUS
ITāS THE BIGGEST RECTAL EXAM OF THE YEAR, A TWO NIGHT EVENT
MY TALENT IS OVERRATED
We cut to Nick Stuart and Richard Parker at the commentary booth. As per usual both men were well dressed for Colossus though Richard was a little more well dressed than Nick.
Nick Stuart:Great fans of PRIME, welcome to CAESARS SUPERDOME in the great city of NEW ORLEANS for COLOSSUS NIGHT ONE! I am Nick Stuart, as always I am joined by my partner, Richard Parker! How are you doing my friend?
Richard Parker: Iām doing great tonight, Nick, thanks.
Nick Stuart: Folks, tonight we have a loaded card and it all culminates in the Finals of the Almasy Tournament as Jonathan-Christopher Hall faces Cecilworth Farthington in what should be an incredible encounter. .
Richard Parker: Lets not forget the x factor in that match though, Vickie Hall.
Nick Stuart: Iām sure weāll speak more on that as we get closer to the Main Event but first, letās get ready for our first match, the Northern Light Crash Jackson versus the Legend Rob Williams!
The lights cut out. We hear rain falling all around. The arena flashes with simulated lightning, perfectly in tune with the thunder. A distorted and edgy guitar line joins the cacophony before the rain subtly fades away to melodic wailing.
Vocals:Iām the man in the box. Buried in my shit.
One last bolt of lightning ends with the house lights coming back up in full. Rob Williams is standing on the entrance ramp. Rob has carved various bible verses into his arms and has āLet Love Inā spray painted on his chest in red. It appears heās looking at the crowd, but really heās conversing with the Father. There is a brief back and forth before Rob begins making his way towards the ring.
Vocals: Wonāt you come and save me? Save me.
Vince Howard: Our opening match this evening is scheduled for one fall.
Vocals: Free my eyeeeeees! Can you see them shut?
Vince Howard: Making his way to the ring now. Accompanied byā¦ the Father. From Decatur, Georgia, ROB WILLIAMS!
Nick Stuart: The Father? Do you see anyone else out here with Rob?
Richard Parker: Maybe the Father has an Invisible Man gimmick? Or maybe he lost the rights to his physical self to the same person who took Dar-.. Wrestler Xās name.
Nick Stuart: I doubt itās either of those things. I think Rob Williams is just mentally unwell.
Richard Parker: Then he fits right in!
Rob climbs up on the ring apron and sits on the middle rope, lifting the top rope. He holds out his hand to allow the Father to climb in before him.
Vocals: JEEEEEEEEEEE-EEEEESUS CHRIST!
Once Rob is satisfied the Father has settled in he climbs in himself. Rob holds his hands up in a Nixon-esque pose, both arms outstretched and peace signs held up.
Vocals: Deny your maker.
A deranged smile crosses Robās face as his eyes meet with the Fatherās in the corner. Rob calls for a microphone as the music cuts. He kneels down a few feet from the corner, head bowed in appeal.
Rob: Thank you, Father. Thank you for delivering me here to Colossus. And please give me the strength to face the parts of myself that are lacking so that I may meet Crash Jackson with a pure heart. Amen.
The arena lights drop into darkness, save for the backlights in the entryway, as a mix of curious silence and spontaneous cheers comes over the crowd. With haste, a figure emerges from the back and stands head high, fist raised, and strikes a pose for a brief second.
LEEEETāS GET READY TO RUUUMMMBLE
The bell dings as Volbeatās āA Warriorās callā floods the airwaves and brings the lights back up. A chaotic lightshow takes over the entrance ramp, with flashing white and red strobe lights, before Crash jumps in the air and stomps both feet in clear view for everyone to see. He roars violently with a fiery, toothy grin before beginning his frantic descent to the ring.
FEEL THE FIRE, HEāS ENTERING THE RING
HIS MINDSET KNOWS ONLY HOW TO WIIIIIIIN
Crash reaches the ring while pumping his fist in unison with the beat, being joined by many fans simply out of respect for fist pumping, and scales the stairs at the same hellacious pace before turning around to roar at the crowd again.
UNLEASHING HIS HELL
YOU WONāT EVEN HEAR THE BELL
He leaps the top rope and lands with a thunderous rattle before pacing around the ring and nodding his head repeatedly. He stops in the middle, facing the crowd.
FEEL THE POWER OF THE WAAAAARRIOOOOR!
Crash steps towards the crowd, slamming his fist into the air and yelling along with the song.
FIGHT!
FIGHT!
FIGHT!
FIGHT!
He turns to the opposite side of the arena and offers the same sentiment.
LETāS GET READY TO RUUUUMBLE
Much more fist pumping begins with sweat flying off his face and arms, landing on the lucky fans in the front row.
FIGHT!
FIGHT!
FIGHT!
FIGHT!
The music begins to die out as Crash locks in on his opponent with an alarming stare, holding a violent gaze and snarl that raises red flags all over the place. The crowd is already on their feet with excitement as Colossus kicks off!
Nick Stuart: The crowd is hot tonight for our first match of COLOSSUS 2023!
Richard Parker: I hope Crash is prepared for the absolutely psychopath that is Rob Willaims! You know I heard him talking to his āFatherā in the back earlier today. I donāt know what they were talking about but the word blood got mentioned a lot.
Nick Stuart: A dubious claim, Richard, but this is certainly to be a spirited competition here tonight as both men are looking to get a win here.
As Crash turns toward his corner Rob Williams launches himself at him, smashing Jackson in the back of the head with a double ax handle smash. This sends Crash.. Crashing through the ropes and into the outside.The crowd launches into a chorus of boos directed at Rob as āA Warriorās Callā fades out.
Richard Parker: Smart move by Rob Williams taking the advantage early!
Nick Stuart: The match hasnāt even begun yet, this is just an assault right now!
Richard Parker: Then Crash shouldnāt have turned his back!
Williams seems to look toward referee Jimmy Turnbull with a maliciou smile before following Crash to the outside of the ring. Turnbull begins to demand that Rob gets back into the ring with Crash so they can start the match. Rob ignores the pleas to return to the ring and instead begins to lay the boots to the Northern Light.
Nick Stuart: Referee Jimmy Turnbull needs to get control of this thing or else this might get ruled a no-contest.
Richard Parker: Turnbull would be an idiot to deny these fans the chance to see Rob Williams get a win here tonight all because of a little dust up before the match!
Continuing his assault on Crash, Rob pulls his opponent up and whips him hard into the barricade. Jacksonās body crumbles to the ground as the unforgiving barricade buckles but does not give. The Legend Rob Willaims pauses a moment to appreciate the damage he has done to Crash. His head snaps over as though he hears something, nodding in agreement before stalking toward Grand Master Crash.
Nick Stuart: That Rob Williams disturbs me. Who the hell is he supposed to be talking to?
Richard Parker: You heard the man! Heās talking to his invisible manager, the Father. Whatever orders heās giving must be working, Rob is in control of this thing right now!
Nick Stuart: The match hasnāt even begun!
Richard Parker: And when it finally does, who do you think is going to be sitting on top? Thatās right, my pick to win, Rob Williams. Sorry, Alexei!
With a fist full of hair Rob drags Crash up to his feet before clobbering him with a magnificently stiff short arm lariat right across the chest. Jackson hits the ground like a ton of bricks as the fans continue to boo and jeer at Rob. Ignoring the fans, Williams drags Jackson back up to his feet before finally rolling him into the ring.
Nick Stuart: It looks like we might finally get this match started.
Richard Parker: This might be the fastest win in Colossus history!
Rob immediately slips beneath the ropes as Turnbull is finally able to signal for the bell!
DING DING
The Legend immediately hooks Crashās leg, pulling him into a deep pin!
ONE
Kickout
Nick Stuart: Looks like Crash Jackson is made of sterner stuff as he powers out at one!
Richard Parker: He should have just let the pinfall happen, now heās gotta go through this whole match against a psychopath after he took that beating before the bell! Heās only hurting himself here, Nick.
Crash is far from defeated as he powers out immediately upon registering the first count. Williams doesnāt seem overly concerned as he transitions into a side headlock, leaning down on Crash to force his opponent to carry his weight.
Richard Parker: And now look at Williams, keeping the pressure on Crash and that dumb, furry head of his!
Nick Stuart: Say what you will about Rob Williams, he walked into this match with a game plan, regardless of who that game plan came from, and heās executing it here against Crash perfectly.
Rob eventually releases the sleeper, slapping the back of Crashās head as he lets go before clamoring up to his feet.
CRACK!
Williams lights up Crashās chest with a chop, sending New Yorkās Finest back into the nearby corner clutching his chest. Rob stalks in and swings the heavy lumber with another chop however Crash is able to duck beneath!
Nick Stuart: If Crash wants to win here tonight he is going to need to rely on his speed like he did just then!
Richard Parker: Power beats speed every time!
Nick Stuart: Everytime?
Richard Parker: Well at least when it benefits me to say so, Stuart.
Crash catches Rob off guard as he fires off an energized rights and lefts. Stunned and staggered, Rob stumbles forward only to get caught in a Hurricanrana! Crash hooks both of Robās legs, securing him into a pinfall as Turnbull moves to the count!
Nick Stuart: Crash might steal it here!
ONE
TWO
Kickout
Rob manages to power Crash off his chest before immediately rolling to the outside. With a dejected look of frustration, Rob appears to be arguing with somebody while pointing back into the ring.
Richard Parker: He almost did!..er.. I mean, I told you, Rob Williams came in with a plan and heās not going to lose!
With Williams caught in his own distraction he fails to see Crash launching himself into Tornillo Suicido Plancha! His body collides with an unsuspecting Williams as the crowd goes wild at the display of aerial talent from the Northern Light!
Nick Stuart: The crowd is clearly backing Crash in this match!
Richard Parker: Yeah? Well crowds donāt decide the winner of these matches, the wrestlers do!
Nick Stuart: You know as well as anyone, Parker, that having the crowd on your side can push you, especially in big matches like this, push you beyond what you might normally be capable of.
Richard Parker: Rob Williams is going to shut this crowd up! And then maybe weāll be able to hear whatever Father is saying to him.
CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!
Keeping the momentum, Crash bounces up to his feet and poses for the crowd. Rob remains.. crashed ..out on the floor with a dazed expression on his face. The Northern Light rides the wave as he drags Rob back up to his feet and rolls him into the ring. Instead of following him in Crash climbs to the top of the turnbuckle.
Nick Stuart: Crash is going to the top!
Richard Parker: Get ready to wash him CRASH and burn!
Staggering back up to his feet, the Legendary Rob Williams is completely caught by surprise when Crash launches off the top rope and connects with a spinning heel kick! The kick lands solid on Robās chin sending the man down hard to the canvas.
Nick Stuart: Crash was right on the money as he caught Williams right on the jaw! I should note that while there is a three inch height difference between these two men, Rob Williams, the taller of the two, is only three pounds heavier. .
Richard Parker: Thatās because Rob Williams has that lean muscle while Crash probably carries a lot of water weight.
Nick Stuart: Water weight? Good lord.
With Williams prone on the mat Crash charges forward and hits a standing senton, his upper body crushing Robās chest. Jackson hooks the leg and proceeds to count with his other as Turnbull drops to the mat.
ONE
TWO
TH-KICKOUT
Nick Stuart: A near pinfall as Crash looks to be getting the better of Rob, Richard!
Richard Parker: But he didnāt get the pinfall, Nick, he DIDNāT. My prediction is still standing!
Just as Jimmy begins to drop his hand for the three count, Rob manages to throw his shoulder up. Crash looks disappointed but keeps his focus. Drawing Rob back up onto his feet, Crash hits the ropes and looks to be going for a clothesline! Williams ducks at the last moment. On the rebound Rob swings his arm looking to decapitate Crash however the wily Grand Master uses his speed to avoid the attack.
Nick Stuart: Once again that speed is keeping Crash alive in this!
Richard Parker: Itās only a matter of time, Nick, itās only a matter of time!
Stopping on a dime, Crash turns and spins Rob around connecting with a snap kick to the midsection. Jackson proceeds to plant Robās head square into the mat, spiking him with a snap DDT. Pointing toward the top rope, Crash gets a wild expression on his face. The fans begin to get louder and louder in anticipation of the Northern Light taking to the sky.
Nick Stuart: Mrs. Jacksonās baby boy is chaining together some lightning offensive and now heās going to the top rope!
Richard Parker: The fans here in Caesars Superdome are coming unglued for this idiot!
Nick Stuart: The question is what is Crash looking for!?
Ascending to the top rope Crash holds both of his arms in the air. The fans have climbed to their feet as they stomp and roar their approval. One last quick assessment of the distance before Crash mimics smoking a jot and thenā¦
Nick Stuart: Heās signaling for the 420 SPLASH!
Richard Parker: Are we allowed to say that? Is this the year 2009?!
Launching himself through the air Crash executes a flawless frog splash, hanging in the air for what seems like an eternity before, as his name implies, he crashes down. Unfortunately Rob Williams lifts his knees at the last minute as Crash has all the air driven out of his lungs.
Richard Parker: Incredible counter by Rob Williams!
Nick Stuart: Itās not called high risk for nothing as Crash took a gamble and it didnāt pay off.
Bouncing off Rob like a spring, Crash clutches at his stomach as he tries to scream in a breathless gasp. As he stumbles around the ring Rob snaps up to his feet and once again runs over his opponent with a horrific looking Lariat. Jackson is turned inside out as Rob goes for the pinfall attempt!
ONE
TWO
KICKOUT
Crash manages to throw his shoulder up but it is clear heās hurting. Rob slowly climbs back up to his feet and appears to be engaged in conversation with somebody no one else can see. Whatever they say seems to encourage Rob who slaps himself in the face a few times before stalking back over to Jackson.
Nick Stuart: Crash is going to have to dig deep now if he wants to stay in this. The man could very likely have bruised or even cracked ribs after that fall!
Richard Parker: This is the beginning of the end, Nick, mark my words!
Grabbing Crash by the waist even as he lays on the ground, Rob powers him up into a Gutwrench Suplex. Rob keeps control of Crashās waist and stands back up, this time hoisting Crash up into a Gutwrench Suplex to the other side.
Nick Stuart: Rob Williams showing off his power here as he is effortlessly suplex Crash.
Richard Parker: Throw him around like a rag doll, Williams, you crazy bastard!
Rob finalizes the combination by hoisting Crash back up into a Gutwrench Suplex, driving his opponent down hard onto the ring mat. The crowd gives Rob his flowers for the impressive display of power as the Legend maintains wrist control, this time to assist him in the pinfall.
ONE
TWO
THR-
KICKOUT
Nick Stuart: Williams almost had him there but Crash showing his guts, kicking out!
Somehow at the last moment Crash is able to roll his shoulder up to escape the pinfall attempt. Rob is outraged as he releases Jackson to turn his ire on referee Jimmy Turnbull. After a few moments Rob realizes he isnāt going to win the argument.
Richard Parker: Stay focused, Rob! You have Crash on the ropes!
Nick Stuart: Rob was in danger of giving his opponent a much needed breather but it seems like he heard you as heās back on Crash.
Scooping Crash up off the mat by his waist, Rob executes a release German Suplex that sends New Yorkās Finest flying across the ring. With a smug expression on his face, Rob climbs up to his feet and advises Jimmy Turnbull to check on Crashās welfare. With the referee distracted Williams immediately begins removing one of the turnbuckle coverings, exposing the metal bolt as the crowd boos him loudly.
Nick Stuart: Rob just exposed the top turnbuckle! There is no need for that!
Richard Parker: I didnāt see anything! I think whoever put the ring together didnāt secure the turnbuckle covers, Stuart, thatās the only explanation!
Moving back to Crash, Rob pulls his groggy opponent up to his feet, pointing toward the turnbuckle with murder in his eyes. Charging forward Rob aims to smash Crashās face directly into the exposed turnbuckle!
Nick Stuart: No, no, no!
Richard Parker: Yes, yes, yes!
Crash manages to throw up a foot, blocking Robās attempt to crush his skull with the metal bolt. Jackson catches Rob on the bridge of his nose with a back elbow, staggering the larger man.
CRACK!
Nick Stuart: WIDE LEFT!
Richard Parker: Itās like I said, Nick, Crash was going to win this all along!
Nick Stuart: Sure, Richard, of course.
The Buffalo Kid, as he is known in Mexico, blasts Rob in the face with a spicy Superkick that sends a loud crack echoing around the arena. Williams goes cross eyed as his body falls limply to the mat! Crash collapses on his opponent barely able to hook the leg!
ONE
TWO
THREE
Richard Parker: As I said, Crash was always going to wi-
Crash and the crowd begin to celebrate however Jimmy Turnbull is quick to indicate that it was only a two count with Rob getting his shoulder up at the last second.
Nick Stuart: Rob Williams is still in this!
Jackson looks gutted as the crowd lets out a loud, collective boo directed at Turnbull.
Richard Parker: Like I said, Rob Williams is going to win this thing! Such courage! Such heart! Such a crazy bastard!
Nick Stuart: But Crash is still the one with the advantage here and he needs to keep pushing if he wants to keep it!
He climbs on top of Williams and fires a few forearm strikes down on his opponent, more out of frustration than with a strategy in mind. Williams covers up as best he can but is forced to eat a majority of Crashās onslaught.
Richard Parker: Crash is going to punch himself out, the idiot!
Nick Stuart: His passion is definitely getting the better of him here but weāve seen this be more of a strength for Crash than a hindrance in the past!
Eventually Crash exhausts himself and rolls off Rob to catch a breath. New Yorkās Finest slowly climbs to the top rope signaling for the Crash Dot Com.
Nick Stuart: New Orleans is on their feet for Crash Jackson! If he connects with this, itās all over! CRASH IS SET TO FLY!
RAAAAAAAAH!
In desperation Rob Williams scrambles up to his feet and dives toward the ropes, striking the top rope and causing Crash to lose his balance! The Northern Lights crotches himself in the corner, the metal bolt no doubt doing his balls no favors!
Richard Parker: Brilliant move by Rob Williams!
Nick Stuart: More desperate than brilliant from where I sit, Richard. Lucky for Rob, unlucky for Crash, call it what you will, that exposed turnbuckle just changed the nature of this match, folks.
Rob, using the ropes for support, drags himself over to Crash with hate and malice in his eyes. Climbing to the second rope, Rob places Crashās head between his legs..
Nick Stuart: Oh no.. Oh No!
Richard Parker: Rob is about to end this match!
The second rope Piledriver executed by Rob leaves Crash spiked vertically for a moment as the crowd lets out a disgusted āOooooh!ā in response. Eventually his body goes limp, clattering to the ring like a pile of discarded trash!
Nick Stuart: NO! Rob Williams is out to kill Crash Jackson here in New Orleans at Caesars Superdome!
Richard Parker: All thatās left is for my pick to pin Crash, Nick! The Legend proves his moniker!
Rob crawls over Crash and hooks the leg.
ONE
TWO
KICKOUT
Nick Stuart: OOOH! He kicked out! I canāt believe it!
Richard Parker: It was an involuntary muscle spasm! It was a slow count! Thatās impossible!
Somehow, someway, Crash manages to kick out! The crowd is going nuts as Rob looks to literally be foaming at the mouth.
Nick Stuart: I donāt like the look on Robās face right now!
Rob looks about ready to lose his mind when whatever voice he listens to seems to break through the frustration. He agrees loudly with āthe Fatherā and drags Crash up by his hair, placing him into a powerbomb position before pointing toward the ring.
Richard Parker: After some consultation with his invisible manager, I think we have a winning strategy, Nick!
Nick Stuart: Rob Williams, thatās not wise! Not to the exposed turnbuckle!
The crowd join Nick in a loud sound of protest as Rob Williams Buckle Bombs Crash into the exposed turnbuckle. The back of Crashās head snaps off the metal bolt giving this writer flashbacks to the Amazing Spider-Man 2. The crowd collectively recoil in reaction to it.
Nick Stuart: Oh god! Crashās head whiplashed off the exposed turnbuckle! No protection, no safety!
Richard Parker: You have to admit, the ghost dad can put together a winning strategy!
Somehow Crash is still on his feet though by the way he is stumbling forward, he is clearly walking on rubber legs.
Nick Stuart: Rob Williams is sizing up the defenseless Crash..
Richard Parker: Itās academic at this point, Nick. As I said, Rob Williams was my pick from the start.
Rob boots Crash in the gut! Quick as a hick-up Williams grabs Crashās head and executes a picture perfect Diamond Cutter!
Nick Stuart: Time for someOld Time Rock and Roll!
Richard Parker: It just soothes the soul, Stuart!
Crashās body is left limp as Rob hooks his opponentās leg to the sound of booing.
ONE
TWO
THREE
DING DING DING
Vince Howard: YOUR WINNERā¦ THE LEGEND ROB WILLIAMS!
Rob climbs off Crash as Turnbull holds his arm high in the air. āMan in the Boxā by Alice in Chains cranks over the PA system as the fans boo their displeasure at the results.
Nick Stuart: Crash put up a great fight here tonight but Rob Williams picks up the win though we would be remiss to say it wasnāt without some help.
Richard Parker: What? Ghost Daddy never got involved!
Nick Stuart: Not that! The exposed turnbuckle.
Turnbull is shoved away by Williams who turns and immediately exits the ring, searching for something beneath it. Back in the ring a pool of blood is starting to form beneath Crashās head, likely a result of the back of his head hitting the turnbuckle during the buckle bomb.
Richard Parker: What is Williams looking for?
Nick Stuart: I have no idea. What I can see is that Crash Jackson is bleeding badly in the ring, no doubt a result of the Buckle Bomb. We need to get some medical help out here.
Rob Willaims returns to the ring with a large black bag with something inside of it moving around. Getting it into the ring Williams opens the bag and dumps its contents out onto the mat. It appears to be a young goat, probably just a few months old. Its legs are bound together so it canāt escape.
Nick Stuart: What the hell is going on here? Why on Earth does Rob Williams have a goat in the ring?!
Richard Parker: Youāre guess is as good as mine, you think Lindsay Troy approved this?
Nick Stuart: Very unlikely!
The Legend begins ranting in the ring about a sacrifice in the ring as Turnbull attempts to get between him and Jackson. As Crash starts to stir Rob shoves Turnbull out of the way and attacks his downed opponent. He reigns down kicks and punches in a savage assault that leaves blood all over his arms and upper body.
Nick Stuart: We need to get security down here! We need medics! Somebody has got to stop this!
Richard Parker: But what is up with the goat?!
Dragging the young goat near Crash, Rob Williams continues to scream about sacrifices, seemingly lost in his own delusions.
Nick Stuart: Somebody has got to stop this!
Richard Parker: Who is going to come out for Crash Jackson!?
The crowd suddenly pops as Eddie Cross bursts onto the stage, rushing to the ring. At the same time Max Kael? can be seen charging through the crowd! Both men reach ringside at the same time but donāt notice each other.
Nick Stuart: His Bros, thatās who!
Back in the ring Rob catches sight of Crashās Bros and immediately bails out of the ring. Eddie immediately slides in and checks on Crash while Max keeps his eyes on a retreating Rob Williams.
Medics arrive as Eddie helps to get Crash up to his feet. Max releases the goat to a small pop. Both Max and Eddie seem more concerned about Crash than each other though they do keep their distance.
Nick Stuart: What the hell do you think Rob Williams was going to do with that goat?
Richard Parker: Well, he was saying something about a sacrifice? Listen, my take away from this is that I was right about the winner.
We get one last shot of Rob, his arms and face covered in Crashās blood. He lifts his hands triumphantly into the air one last time on the stage before we cut to the back.
We then fade out.
New Orleans.
Superdome.
Fireworks.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
New Orleans.
Superdome.
Signs.
FFFFFAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRā
TSIGN
IāM HERE FOR THE CATERING
DARIN ZION CANāT AFFORD A WIN
HIS NAME IS TSONDA. TSONDA TSKYWALKER.
WHAT IS LOVE? CECIL DONāT HURT NO MORE
NOT ROOTING FOR TAL? THEREāS THE LUCHA-DOOR
THEREāS NO COLOSSYOU. THEREāS NO COLOSSME. THEREāS JUST COLOSSUS.
IāM GOING TO BE LATE TO THE SHOW, IāM GETTING A COLONOSCOPOSSUS
ITāS THE BIGGEST RECTAL EXAM OF THE YEAR, A TWO NIGHT EVENT
MY TALENT IS OVERRATED
We cut to Nick Stuart and Richard Parker at the commentary booth. As per usual both men were well dressed for Colossus though Richard was a little more well dressed than Nick.
Nick Stuart:Great fans of PRIME, welcome to CAESARS SUPERDOME in the great city of NEW ORLEANS for COLOSSUS NIGHT ONE! I am Nick Stuart, as always I am joined by my partner, Richard Parker! How are you doing my friend?
Richard Parker: Iām doing great tonight, Nick, thanks.
Nick Stuart: Folks, tonight we have a loaded card and it all culminates in the Finals of the Almasy Tournament as Jonathan-Christopher Hall faces Cecilworth Farthington in what should be an incredible encounter. .
Richard Parker: Lets not forget the x factor in that match though, Vickie Hall.
Nick Stuart: Iām sure weāll speak more on that as we get closer to the Main Event but first, letās get ready for our first match, the Northern Light Crash Jackson versus the Legend Rob Williams!
The lights cut out. We hear rain falling all around. The arena flashes with simulated lightning, perfectly in tune with the thunder. A distorted and edgy guitar line joins the cacophony before the rain subtly fades away to melodic wailing.
Vocals:Iām the man in the box. Buried in my shit.
One last bolt of lightning ends with the house lights coming back up in full. Rob Williams is standing on the entrance ramp. Rob has carved various bible verses into his arms and has āLet Love Inā spray painted on his chest in red. It appears heās looking at the crowd, but really heās conversing with the Father. There is a brief back and forth before Rob begins making his way towards the ring.
Vocals: Wonāt you come and save me? Save me.
Vince Howard: Our opening match this evening is scheduled for one fall.
Vocals: Free my eyeeeeees! Can you see them shut?
Vince Howard: Making his way to the ring now. Accompanied byā¦ the Father. From Decatur, Georgia, ROB WILLIAMS!
Nick Stuart: The Father? Do you see anyone else out here with Rob?
Richard Parker: Maybe the Father has an Invisible Man gimmick? Or maybe he lost the rights to his physical self to the same person who took Dar-.. Wrestler Xās name.
Nick Stuart: I doubt itās either of those things. I think Rob Williams is just mentally unwell.
Richard Parker: Then he fits right in!
Rob climbs up on the ring apron and sits on the middle rope, lifting the top rope. He holds out his hand to allow the Father to climb in before him.
Vocals: JEEEEEEEEEEE-EEEEESUS CHRIST!
Once Rob is satisfied the Father has settled in he climbs in himself. Rob holds his hands up in a Nixon-esque pose, both arms outstretched and peace signs held up.
Vocals: Deny your maker.
A deranged smile crosses Robās face as his eyes meet with the Fatherās in the corner. Rob calls for a microphone as the music cuts. He kneels down a few feet from the corner, head bowed in appeal.
Rob: Thank you, Father. Thank you for delivering me here to Colossus. And please give me the strength to face the parts of myself that are lacking so that I may meet Crash Jackson with a pure heart. Amen.
The arena lights drop into darkness, save for the backlights in the entryway, as a mix of curious silence and spontaneous cheers comes over the crowd. With haste, a figure emerges from the back and stands head high, fist raised, and strikes a pose for a brief second.
LEEEETāS GET READY TO RUUUMMMBLE
The bell dings as Volbeatās āA Warriorās callā floods the airwaves and brings the lights back up. A chaotic lightshow takes over the entrance ramp, with flashing white and red strobe lights, before Crash jumps in the air and stomps both feet in clear view for everyone to see. He roars violently with a fiery, toothy grin before beginning his frantic descent to the ring.
FEEL THE FIRE, HEāS ENTERING THE RING
HIS MINDSET KNOWS ONLY HOW TO WIIIIIIIN
Crash reaches the ring while pumping his fist in unison with the beat, being joined by many fans simply out of respect for fist pumping, and scales the stairs at the same hellacious pace before turning around to roar at the crowd again.
UNLEASHING HIS HELL
YOU WONāT EVEN HEAR THE BELL
He leaps the top rope and lands with a thunderous rattle before pacing around the ring and nodding his head repeatedly. He stops in the middle, facing the crowd.
FEEL THE POWER OF THE WAAAAARRIOOOOR!
Crash steps towards the crowd, slamming his fist into the air and yelling along with the song.
FIGHT!
FIGHT!
FIGHT!
FIGHT!
He turns to the opposite side of the arena and offers the same sentiment.
LETāS GET READY TO RUUUUMBLE
Much more fist pumping begins with sweat flying off his face and arms, landing on the lucky fans in the front row.
FIGHT!
FIGHT!
FIGHT!
FIGHT!
The music begins to die out as Crash locks in on his opponent with an alarming stare, holding a violent gaze and snarl that raises red flags all over the place. The crowd is already on their feet with excitement as Colossus kicks off!
Nick Stuart: The crowd is hot tonight for our first match of COLOSSUS 2023!
Richard Parker: I hope Crash is prepared for the absolutely psychopath that is Rob Willaims! You know I heard him talking to his āFatherā in the back earlier today. I donāt know what they were talking about but the word blood got mentioned a lot.
Nick Stuart: A dubious claim, Richard, but this is certainly to be a spirited competition here tonight as both men are looking to get a win here.
As Crash turns toward his corner Rob Williams launches himself at him, smashing Jackson in the back of the head with a double ax handle smash. This sends Crash.. Crashing through the ropes and into the outside.The crowd launches into a chorus of boos directed at Rob as āA Warriorās Callā fades out.
Richard Parker: Smart move by Rob Williams taking the advantage early!
Nick Stuart: The match hasnāt even begun yet, this is just an assault right now!
Richard Parker: Then Crash shouldnāt have turned his back!
Williams seems to look toward referee Jimmy Turnbull with a maliciou smile before following Crash to the outside of the ring. Turnbull begins to demand that Rob gets back into the ring with Crash so they can start the match. Rob ignores the pleas to return to the ring and instead begins to lay the boots to the Northern Light.
Nick Stuart: Referee Jimmy Turnbull needs to get control of this thing or else this might get ruled a no-contest.
Richard Parker: Turnbull would be an idiot to deny these fans the chance to see Rob Williams get a win here tonight all because of a little dust up before the match!
Continuing his assault on Crash, Rob pulls his opponent up and whips him hard into the barricade. Jacksonās body crumbles to the ground as the unforgiving barricade buckles but does not give. The Legend Rob Willaims pauses a moment to appreciate the damage he has done to Crash. His head snaps over as though he hears something, nodding in agreement before stalking toward Grand Master Crash.
Nick Stuart: That Rob Williams disturbs me. Who the hell is he supposed to be talking to?
Richard Parker: You heard the man! Heās talking to his invisible manager, the Father. Whatever orders heās giving must be working, Rob is in control of this thing right now!
Nick Stuart: The match hasnāt even begun!
Richard Parker: And when it finally does, who do you think is going to be sitting on top? Thatās right, my pick to win, Rob Williams. Sorry, Alexei!
With a fist full of hair Rob drags Crash up to his feet before clobbering him with a magnificently stiff short arm lariat right across the chest. Jackson hits the ground like a ton of bricks as the fans continue to boo and jeer at Rob. Ignoring the fans, Williams drags Jackson back up to his feet before finally rolling him into the ring.
Nick Stuart: It looks like we might finally get this match started.
Richard Parker: This might be the fastest win in Colossus history!
Rob immediately slips beneath the ropes as Turnbull is finally able to signal for the bell!
DING DING
The Legend immediately hooks Crashās leg, pulling him into a deep pin!
ONE
Kickout
Nick Stuart: Looks like Crash Jackson is made of sterner stuff as he powers out at one!
Richard Parker: He should have just let the pinfall happen, now heās gotta go through this whole match against a psychopath after he took that beating before the bell! Heās only hurting himself here, Nick.
Crash is far from defeated as he powers out immediately upon registering the first count. Williams doesnāt seem overly concerned as he transitions into a side headlock, leaning down on Crash to force his opponent to carry his weight.
Richard Parker: And now look at Williams, keeping the pressure on Crash and that dumb, furry head of his!
Nick Stuart: Say what you will about Rob Williams, he walked into this match with a game plan, regardless of who that game plan came from, and heās executing it here against Crash perfectly.
Rob eventually releases the sleeper, slapping the back of Crashās head as he lets go before clamoring up to his feet.
CRACK!
Williams lights up Crashās chest with a chop, sending New Yorkās Finest back into the nearby corner clutching his chest. Rob stalks in and swings the heavy lumber with another chop however Crash is able to duck beneath!
Nick Stuart: If Crash wants to win here tonight he is going to need to rely on his speed like he did just then!
Richard Parker: Power beats speed every time!
Nick Stuart: Everytime?
Richard Parker: Well at least when it benefits me to say so, Stuart.
Crash catches Rob off guard as he fires off an energized rights and lefts. Stunned and staggered, Rob stumbles forward only to get caught in a Hurricanrana! Crash hooks both of Robās legs, securing him into a pinfall as Turnbull moves to the count!
Nick Stuart: Crash might steal it here!
ONE
TWO
Kickout
Rob manages to power Crash off his chest before immediately rolling to the outside. With a dejected look of frustration, Rob appears to be arguing with somebody while pointing back into the ring.
Richard Parker: He almost did!..er.. I mean, I told you, Rob Williams came in with a plan and heās not going to lose!
With Williams caught in his own distraction he fails to see Crash launching himself into Tornillo Suicido Plancha! His body collides with an unsuspecting Williams as the crowd goes wild at the display of aerial talent from the Northern Light!
Nick Stuart: The crowd is clearly backing Crash in this match!
Richard Parker: Yeah? Well crowds donāt decide the winner of these matches, the wrestlers do!
Nick Stuart: You know as well as anyone, Parker, that having the crowd on your side can push you, especially in big matches like this, push you beyond what you might normally be capable of.
Richard Parker: Rob Williams is going to shut this crowd up! And then maybe weāll be able to hear whatever Father is saying to him.
CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!
Keeping the momentum, Crash bounces up to his feet and poses for the crowd. Rob remains.. crashed ..out on the floor with a dazed expression on his face. The Northern Light rides the wave as he drags Rob back up to his feet and rolls him into the ring. Instead of following him in Crash climbs to the top of the turnbuckle.
Nick Stuart: Crash is going to the top!
Richard Parker: Get ready to wash him CRASH and burn!
Staggering back up to his feet, the Legendary Rob Williams is completely caught by surprise when Crash launches off the top rope and connects with a spinning heel kick! The kick lands solid on Robās chin sending the man down hard to the canvas.
Nick Stuart: Crash was right on the money as he caught Williams right on the jaw! I should note that while there is a three inch height difference between these two men, Rob Williams, the taller of the two, is only three pounds heavier. .
Richard Parker: Thatās because Rob Williams has that lean muscle while Crash probably carries a lot of water weight.
Nick Stuart: Water weight? Good lord.
With Williams prone on the mat Crash charges forward and hits a standing senton, his upper body crushing Robās chest. Jackson hooks the leg and proceeds to count with his other as Turnbull drops to the mat.
ONE
TWO
TH-KICKOUT
Nick Stuart: A near pinfall as Crash looks to be getting the better of Rob, Richard!
Richard Parker: But he didnāt get the pinfall, Nick, he DIDNāT. My prediction is still standing!
Just as Jimmy begins to drop his hand for the three count, Rob manages to throw his shoulder up. Crash looks disappointed but keeps his focus. Drawing Rob back up onto his feet, Crash hits the ropes and looks to be going for a clothesline! Williams ducks at the last moment. On the rebound Rob swings his arm looking to decapitate Crash however the wily Grand Master uses his speed to avoid the attack.
Nick Stuart: Once again that speed is keeping Crash alive in this!
Richard Parker: Itās only a matter of time, Nick, itās only a matter of time!
Stopping on a dime, Crash turns and spins Rob around connecting with a snap kick to the midsection. Jackson proceeds to plant Robās head square into the mat, spiking him with a snap DDT. Pointing toward the top rope, Crash gets a wild expression on his face. The fans begin to get louder and louder in anticipation of the Northern Light taking to the sky.
Nick Stuart: Mrs. Jacksonās baby boy is chaining together some lightning offensive and now heās going to the top rope!
Richard Parker: The fans here in Caesars Superdome are coming unglued for this idiot!
Nick Stuart: The question is what is Crash looking for!?
Ascending to the top rope Crash holds both of his arms in the air. The fans have climbed to their feet as they stomp and roar their approval. One last quick assessment of the distance before Crash mimics smoking a jot and thenā¦
Nick Stuart: Heās signaling for the 420 SPLASH!
Richard Parker: Are we allowed to say that? Is this the year 2009?!
Launching himself through the air Crash executes a flawless frog splash, hanging in the air for what seems like an eternity before, as his name implies, he crashes down. Unfortunately Rob Williams lifts his knees at the last minute as Crash has all the air driven out of his lungs.
Richard Parker: Incredible counter by Rob Williams!
Nick Stuart: Itās not called high risk for nothing as Crash took a gamble and it didnāt pay off.
Bouncing off Rob like a spring, Crash clutches at his stomach as he tries to scream in a breathless gasp. As he stumbles around the ring Rob snaps up to his feet and once again runs over his opponent with a horrific looking Lariat. Jackson is turned inside out as Rob goes for the pinfall attempt!
ONE
TWO
KICKOUT
Crash manages to throw his shoulder up but it is clear heās hurting. Rob slowly climbs back up to his feet and appears to be engaged in conversation with somebody no one else can see. Whatever they say seems to encourage Rob who slaps himself in the face a few times before stalking back over to Jackson.
Nick Stuart: Crash is going to have to dig deep now if he wants to stay in this. The man could very likely have bruised or even cracked ribs after that fall!
Richard Parker: This is the beginning of the end, Nick, mark my words!
Grabbing Crash by the waist even as he lays on the ground, Rob powers him up into a Gutwrench Suplex. Rob keeps control of Crashās waist and stands back up, this time hoisting Crash up into a Gutwrench Suplex to the other side.
Nick Stuart: Rob Williams showing off his power here as he is effortlessly suplex Crash.
Richard Parker: Throw him around like a rag doll, Williams, you crazy bastard!
Rob finalizes the combination by hoisting Crash back up into a Gutwrench Suplex, driving his opponent down hard onto the ring mat. The crowd gives Rob his flowers for the impressive display of power as the Legend maintains wrist control, this time to assist him in the pinfall.
ONE
TWO
THR-
KICKOUT
Nick Stuart: Williams almost had him there but Crash showing his guts, kicking out!
Somehow at the last moment Crash is able to roll his shoulder up to escape the pinfall attempt. Rob is outraged as he releases Jackson to turn his ire on referee Jimmy Turnbull. After a few moments Rob realizes he isnāt going to win the argument.
Richard Parker: Stay focused, Rob! You have Crash on the ropes!
Nick Stuart: Rob was in danger of giving his opponent a much needed breather but it seems like he heard you as heās back on Crash.
Scooping Crash up off the mat by his waist, Rob executes a release German Suplex that sends New Yorkās Finest flying across the ring. With a smug expression on his face, Rob climbs up to his feet and advises Jimmy Turnbull to check on Crashās welfare. With the referee distracted Williams immediately begins removing one of the turnbuckle coverings, exposing the metal bolt as the crowd boos him loudly.
Nick Stuart: Rob just exposed the top turnbuckle! There is no need for that!
Richard Parker: I didnāt see anything! I think whoever put the ring together didnāt secure the turnbuckle covers, Stuart, thatās the only explanation!
Moving back to Crash, Rob pulls his groggy opponent up to his feet, pointing toward the turnbuckle with murder in his eyes. Charging forward Rob aims to smash Crashās face directly into the exposed turnbuckle!
Nick Stuart: No, no, no!
Richard Parker: Yes, yes, yes!
Crash manages to throw up a foot, blocking Robās attempt to crush his skull with the metal bolt. Jackson catches Rob on the bridge of his nose with a back elbow, staggering the larger man.
CRACK!
Nick Stuart: WIDE LEFT!
Richard Parker: Itās like I said, Nick, Crash was going to win this all along!
Nick Stuart: Sure, Richard, of course.
The Buffalo Kid, as he is known in Mexico, blasts Rob in the face with a spicy Superkick that sends a loud crack echoing around the arena. Williams goes cross eyed as his body falls limply to the mat! Crash collapses on his opponent barely able to hook the leg!
ONE
TWO
THREE
Richard Parker: As I said, Crash was always going to wi-
Crash and the crowd begin to celebrate however Jimmy Turnbull is quick to indicate that it was only a two count with Rob getting his shoulder up at the last second.
Nick Stuart: Rob Williams is still in this!
Jackson looks gutted as the crowd lets out a loud, collective boo directed at Turnbull.
Richard Parker: Like I said, Rob Williams is going to win this thing! Such courage! Such heart! Such a crazy bastard!
Nick Stuart: But Crash is still the one with the advantage here and he needs to keep pushing if he wants to keep it!
He climbs on top of Williams and fires a few forearm strikes down on his opponent, more out of frustration than with a strategy in mind. Williams covers up as best he can but is forced to eat a majority of Crashās onslaught.
Richard Parker: Crash is going to punch himself out, the idiot!
Nick Stuart: His passion is definitely getting the better of him here but weāve seen this be more of a strength for Crash than a hindrance in the past!
Eventually Crash exhausts himself and rolls off Rob to catch a breath. New Yorkās Finest slowly climbs to the top rope signaling for the Crash Dot Com.
Nick Stuart: New Orleans is on their feet for Crash Jackson! If he connects with this, itās all over! CRASH IS SET TO FLY!
RAAAAAAAAH!
In desperation Rob Williams scrambles up to his feet and dives toward the ropes, striking the top rope and causing Crash to lose his balance! The Northern Lights crotches himself in the corner, the metal bolt no doubt doing his balls no favors!
Richard Parker: Brilliant move by Rob Williams!
Nick Stuart: More desperate than brilliant from where I sit, Richard. Lucky for Rob, unlucky for Crash, call it what you will, that exposed turnbuckle just changed the nature of this match, folks.
Rob, using the ropes for support, drags himself over to Crash with hate and malice in his eyes. Climbing to the second rope, Rob places Crashās head between his legs..
Nick Stuart: Oh no.. Oh No!
Richard Parker: Rob is about to end this match!
The second rope Piledriver executed by Rob leaves Crash spiked vertically for a moment as the crowd lets out a disgusted āOooooh!ā in response. Eventually his body goes limp, clattering to the ring like a pile of discarded trash!
Nick Stuart: NO! Rob Williams is out to kill Crash Jackson here in New Orleans at Caesars Superdome!
Richard Parker: All thatās left is for my pick to pin Crash, Nick! The Legend proves his moniker!
Rob crawls over Crash and hooks the leg.
ONE
TWO
KICKOUT
Nick Stuart: OOOH! He kicked out! I canāt believe it!
Richard Parker: It was an involuntary muscle spasm! It was a slow count! Thatās impossible!
Somehow, someway, Crash manages to kick out! The crowd is going nuts as Rob looks to literally be foaming at the mouth.
Nick Stuart: I donāt like the look on Robās face right now!
Rob looks about ready to lose his mind when whatever voice he listens to seems to break through the frustration. He agrees loudly with āthe Fatherā and drags Crash up by his hair, placing him into a powerbomb position before pointing toward the ring.
Richard Parker: After some consultation with his invisible manager, I think we have a winning strategy, Nick!
Nick Stuart: Rob Williams, thatās not wise! Not to the exposed turnbuckle!
The crowd join Nick in a loud sound of protest as Rob Williams Buckle Bombs Crash into the exposed turnbuckle. The back of Crashās head snaps off the metal bolt giving this writer flashbacks to the Amazing Spider-Man 2. The crowd collectively recoil in reaction to it.
Nick Stuart: Oh god! Crashās head whiplashed off the exposed turnbuckle! No protection, no safety!
Richard Parker: You have to admit, the ghost dad can put together a winning strategy!
Somehow Crash is still on his feet though by the way he is stumbling forward, he is clearly walking on rubber legs.
Nick Stuart: Rob Williams is sizing up the defenseless Crash..
Richard Parker: Itās academic at this point, Nick. As I said, Rob Williams was my pick from the start.
Rob boots Crash in the gut! Quick as a hick-up Williams grabs Crashās head and executes a picture perfect Diamond Cutter!
Nick Stuart: Time for someOld Time Rock and Roll!
Richard Parker: It just soothes the soul, Stuart!
Crashās body is left limp as Rob hooks his opponentās leg to the sound of booing.
ONE
TWO
THREE
DING DING DING
Vince Howard: YOUR WINNERā¦ THE LEGEND ROB WILLIAMS!
Rob climbs off Crash as Turnbull holds his arm high in the air. āMan in the Boxā by Alice in Chains cranks over the PA system as the fans boo their displeasure at the results.
Nick Stuart: Crash put up a great fight here tonight but Rob Williams picks up the win though we would be remiss to say it wasnāt without some help.
Richard Parker: What? Ghost Daddy never got involved!
Nick Stuart: Not that! The exposed turnbuckle.
Turnbull is shoved away by Williams who turns and immediately exits the ring, searching for something beneath it. Back in the ring a pool of blood is starting to form beneath Crashās head, likely a result of the back of his head hitting the turnbuckle during the buckle bomb.
Richard Parker: What is Williams looking for?
Nick Stuart: I have no idea. What I can see is that Crash Jackson is bleeding badly in the ring, no doubt a result of the Buckle Bomb. We need to get some medical help out here.
Rob Willaims returns to the ring with a large black bag with something inside of it moving around. Getting it into the ring Williams opens the bag and dumps its contents out onto the mat. It appears to be a young goat, probably just a few months old. Its legs are bound together so it canāt escape.
Nick Stuart: What the hell is going on here? Why on Earth does Rob Williams have a goat in the ring?!
Richard Parker: Youāre guess is as good as mine, you think Lindsay Troy approved this?
Nick Stuart: Very unlikely!
The Legend begins ranting in the ring about a sacrifice in the ring as Turnbull attempts to get between him and Jackson. As Crash starts to stir Rob shoves Turnbull out of the way and attacks his downed opponent. He reigns down kicks and punches in a savage assault that leaves blood all over his arms and upper body.
Nick Stuart: We need to get security down here! We need medics! Somebody has got to stop this!
Richard Parker: But what is up with the goat?!
Dragging the young goat near Crash, Rob Williams continues to scream about sacrifices, seemingly lost in his own delusions.
Nick Stuart: Somebody has got to stop this!
Richard Parker: Who is going to come out for Crash Jackson!?
The crowd suddenly pops as Eddie Cross bursts onto the stage, rushing to the ring. At the same time Max Kael? can be seen charging through the crowd! Both men reach ringside at the same time but donāt notice each other.
Nick Stuart: His Bros, thatās who!
Back in the ring Rob catches sight of Crashās Bros and immediately bails out of the ring. Eddie immediately slides in and checks on Crash while Max keeps his eyes on a retreating Rob Williams.
Medics arrive as Eddie helps to get Crash up to his feet. Max releases the goat to a small pop. Both Max and Eddie seem more concerned about Crash than each other though they do keep their distance.
Nick Stuart: What the hell do you think Rob Williams was going to do with that goat?
Richard Parker: Well, he was saying something about a sacrifice? Listen, my take away from this is that I was right about the winner.
We get one last shot of Rob, his arms and face covered in Crashās blood. He lifts his hands triumphantly into the air one last time on the stage before we cut to the back.
We then fade out.
The video screen slowly fades into drone footage as it hovers above a lush green field dotted with a pristine white church and several party tents. An orchestral version of Amazing Grace plays delicately over the scene. As the drone descends from height, it rests a few feet off the ground, directly facing the church. Words begin to burn into the screen, slowly fading as theyāre replaced by the next group of words.
HIS WORD AND LIGHT MINISTRIES PRESENTS
A HIS WORD AND LIGHT PRODUCTION
STARRING THE REVELATOR DON WINTERS INā¦
FATHER WINTERSā WONDERLAND
FEATURING THE TALENTS OF THE WAYWARD DIAMONDS ILLEGITIMATE CHILDREN OF DAYTONA DIAMONDS CHILDRENāS CHOIR
TODAYāS EPISODE: RESPONSIBILITY
The orchestra swells as an image of Don Winters and Max? Kael, in the midst of shaking hands and grinning at the camera, flashes on screen. All seven children are at their feet, and not a single one of them makes eye contact with the camera, bless their hearts.
As the video cuts back, the doors of the church are swinging open into the nave. Six children sit among the right handed pews, heads buried in religious texts. As the camera makes its way up the aisle, a man sits in the front left pew, in a familiar white suit. He turns his whole body and smiles warmly, as the seventh child, sitting on his lap, bleats softly.
DON WINTERS: Oh, hello there! What a surprise to have you with us today! We certainly werenāt expecting any visitors!
Don strokes the head of the child in his lap, who looks up at him with a distressingly rectangular set of pupils.
DON WINTERS: Iāve been here with the Diamonds Children Choir, getting ready for Colossus, but more importantly, imparting the lessons of His Word and Light on these impressionable little scamps! Isnāt that right Billy?
Billy the Goat Boy bleats his approval, tongue slightly lolling out one side of his mouth.
DON WINTERS: (Don is chuckling slightly) Heās a great kid. And let me tell you, friends, that is why we are here today. Weāre here for the future. Now, I know itās a tired old clichĆ©, but the children really are our future. Because of this, it is our responsibility as adults in this crazy, mixed-up world to provide them with guidance, nurturing and above all else, love.
The smile from Winters fades, and he lets Billy the Goat Boy off his lap, who trundles off on all fours, two cloven hooves and two human hands.
DON WINTERS: Iām pleased to be here with The Wayward Diamonds Illegitimate children of Daytona Diamonds Childrenās Choir tonight, on behalf of the Max? Kael Adoption Agency. These poor children are the avatars of shirked responsibility. The man Iāll be facing tonight refuses to accept these wonderful little boys, girls, and Goat Boy as his own. We all know that Mr. Diamonds is eternally damned to spend his afterlife walking the plains of Hell, doing the bidding of Satan, but itās not too late to keep his children from falling to the same fate.
Winters stands from the pew and walks up to the lectern. All seven children stop reading and look up at him with bright, inquisitive eyes.
DON WINTERS: Good morning children, and welcome to Father Wintersā Wonderland at His Word and Light!
Their response was in unison and warmed Donās heart so much it might just melt.
THE CHOIR: Good morning, Father Winters!
DON WINTERS: Ā It is so good to see all of you here today. Look at those bright and shining faces, almost like diamonds. Now, we have a VERY fun day lined up for all of you. Weāll have a prayer session this morning before Mirmiam and Mary take you for your singing practice, but before all of that, we have a little show for you! Is that something youād like to see?
THE CHOIR: YEAH!
DON WINTERS: (laughing) Okay! Okay! Letās get this show on the road!
Samuel and John appear in the cameraās view, rolling a small puppet theater stage out in front of the children. A slightly curved sign over the top of it reads āWONDERLAND.ā Several of the kids are clapping their hands excitedly as a penguin puppet dressed in a crimson jacket pops its head out from beneath the stage.
PIOUS PENGUIN: Hi Kids! Iām Pious Penguin and Iām here today to teach you about something very important. Responsibility! I want you to say that word with me, because itās a big word and it has an even bigger meaning!
THE CHOIR AND PIOUS PENGUIN: Ā Re-spon-si-bil-ity!
PIOUS PENGUIN: Great job everybody! Does anybody here know what responsibility is? Can I have a show of hands if you do?
Absolutely zero hands fly into the air.
PIOUS PENGUIN: Well thatās okay, kids! You certainly didnāt learn responsibility from your father, and do you know why?
Again, no hands raised, the children are silent, mesmerized by Pious Penguinās tiny flapping arms.
PIOUS PENGUIN: Well kids, itās because he never learned to take any for himself! If he had taken responsibility for each and every one of you (a flipper arm points at each child), we wouldnāt be here today, we wouldnāt be having this conversation and we wouldnāt have this chance to learn about responsibility!
Pious Penguin does a little dance on stage that gets the kids clapping again.
PIOUS PENGUIN: So responsibility is when you have the duty, or the task to take care of, or giving others instruction or direction! Isnāt that exciting? It may seem like a lot of work to have responsibility, and it can be, but it is also something we pride ourselves in! What are some things we have a responsibility for?
A single hand shoots into the air, Billyās.
PIOUS PENGUIN: Yes Billy?
BILLY THE GOAT BOY: We haaa-ve a responsibility to Mr. Kael aaaaa-nd to His Word aaaaaa-nd Light aaaaa-nd to each other. Thatās what it means to me-ehhhh.
PIOUS PENGUIN: Great job, Billy, thatās exactly right! (Pious Penguin turns to face Father Don). Excuse me, Father Winters, but could you come here for a moment?
Don Winters walks over to the puppet theater stage and gets down on one knee, putting him eye-level with Pious Penguin.
DON WINTERS: How are you, Pious Penguin?
PIOUS PENGUIN: Amazing, Father Winters. Can you believe all these great kids weāve got here?
DON WINTERS: It truly is hard to believe, Pious Penguin. Itās even harder to believe that their father wonāt take responsibility for them! These are beautiful, bright and intelligent children, and all they need is a loving home.
PIOUS PENGUIN: Thatās right, Father Winters! And for just pennies a day you can support these wonderful children by calling the number on your screen.
In big block letters a phone number flashes on the bottom of the screen: 1-800-NO-DMNDS.
PIOUS PENGUIN: You can sign up to donate daily, weekly, monthly, yearly, or in a big old lump sum! At least 35% of all donations will go to these wonderful children, while the remaining portion of your donation will go both to His Word and Light and the Max? Kael Adoption agency. Two groups working together to stop homelessness in children and to stop Daytona Diamonds from creating more orphans!
As the final words pop out of Pious Penguinās mouth, a new puppet jumps up from behind the stage. Heās got a sparkly hat and jacket on, and big mean eyebrows pointed downward in the middle to show how angry he is. The children gasp and Pious Penguin flaps his arms around.
PIOUS PENGUIN: Oh no, kids! Itās that no-good, responsibility shirking deadbeat, Dastardly Diamonds! (The kids boo loudly.) What does he want with us!?
DASTARDLY DIAMONDS: Iām here to drink booze, congregate with women and do hard drugs, woooo!
PIOUS PENGUIN: Iām sorry Dastardly, we donāt have any of those things here. This is the House of His Word and Light. Would you like to pray with us today?
DASTARDLY DIAMONDS: Prayinās for the weak! (The children boo again, louder.) Iām here for a good time! Where the girls at!?
PIOUS PENGUIN: Is this any way to speak in front of your own kids!?
Dastardly Diamonds closes the distance and grabs Pious Penguin by the neck. The children are aghast at this show of violent puppetry. A third, incredibly handsome puppet with auburn hair and a crimson suit appears behind Dastardly.
FATHER YARN WINTERS: (Don has snuck behind the theater box and is now playing the role) My poor child, if you choose not to learn responsibility, you must seek Absolution.
Dastardly Diamonds drops Pious Penguin, who makes some adorable little gasping noises while flapping his cute little arms, and charges at Yarn Winters. Little Yarn Winters kicks Dastardly Diamonds in his little felt gut and throws his arms out in the crucifix position, before hitting a devastating puppet version of Absolution. The children go crazy.
PIOUS PENGUIN: (still comically clutching at his throat) Thank you so much, Father Winters!
FATHER YARN WINTERS: Youāre very welcome, Pious Penguin. Children, this is what happens when you donāt accept the responsibilities for your actions. His Word and Light can give you direction and teach you the meaning of responsibility and give you the tools you need to succeed in life.
The curtain closes and the video abruptly cuts to the children doing vocal exercises with Mary and Miriam. The video cuts again to Billy the Goat Boy wistfully grazing in the lush green field, kicking his hooved feet in excitement. It cuts a third time to black and Don Winters slowly walks into frame.
DON WINTERS: I truly hope youāve enjoyed tonightās presentation of Father Wintersā Wonderland, which is made possible by the support of viewers like you. If youād like to support the Childrenās Choir, you can call 1-800-NO-DMNDS right now, operators are standing by and will be ever so thankful for your support. These children, until today, have never called a man Father, please consider that and consider a donation. May you all be blessed and may you all walk in His Light.
The camera fades to black, but the arena stays dark. The only lights are focused on the musicians and singers and their music sheets. The members of His Word and Light are organized in an orchestra. The entire Wayward Diamonds Illegitimate Children of Daytona Diamonds Childrenās Choir are standing on tiered bleachers. They are all dressed impeccably. White suits and crimson shirts for the men and boys, crimson dresses with white shoes for the women and girls. Billy the Goat Boy is dressed in the finest crimson lederhosen and crimson and white buffalo plaid shirt. His golden tuft of hair perfectly coiffed, his little goat nose pinker than it had ever been and he was ready to sing.
We then fade to ringside.
The video screen slowly fades into drone footage as it hovers above a lush green field dotted with a pristine white church and several party tents. An orchestral version of Amazing Grace plays delicately over the scene. As the drone descends from height, it rests a few feet off the ground, directly facing the church. Words begin to burn into the screen, slowly fading as theyāre replaced by the next group of words.
HIS WORD AND LIGHT MINISTRIES PRESENTS
A HIS WORD AND LIGHT PRODUCTION
STARRING THE REVELATOR DON WINTERS INā¦
FATHER WINTERSā WONDERLAND
FEATURING THE TALENTS OF THE WAYWARD DIAMONDS ILLEGITIMATE CHILDREN OF DAYTONA DIAMONDS CHILDRENāS CHOIR
TODAYāS EPISODE: RESPONSIBILITY
The orchestra swells as an image of Don Winters and Max? Kael, in the midst of shaking hands and grinning at the camera, flashes on screen. All seven children are at their feet, and not a single one of them makes eye contact with the camera, bless their hearts.
As the video cuts back, the doors of the church are swinging open into the nave. Six children sit among the right handed pews, heads buried in religious texts. As the camera makes its way up the aisle, a man sits in the front left pew, in a familiar white suit. He turns his whole body and smiles warmly, as the seventh child, sitting on his lap, bleats softly.
DON WINTERS: Oh, hello there! What a surprise to have you with us today! We certainly werenāt expecting any visitors!
Don strokes the head of the child in his lap, who looks up at him with a distressingly rectangular set of pupils.
DON WINTERS: Iāve been here with the Diamonds Children Choir, getting ready for Colossus, but more importantly, imparting the lessons of His Word and Light on these impressionable little scamps! Isnāt that right Billy?
Billy the Goat Boy bleats his approval, tongue slightly lolling out one side of his mouth.
DON WINTERS: (Don is chuckling slightly) Heās a great kid. And let me tell you, friends, that is why we are here today. Weāre here for the future. Now, I know itās a tired old clichĆ©, but the children really are our future. Because of this, it is our responsibility as adults in this crazy, mixed-up world to provide them with guidance, nurturing and above all else, love.
The smile from Winters fades, and he lets Billy the Goat Boy off his lap, who trundles off on all fours, two cloven hooves and two human hands.
DON WINTERS: Iām pleased to be here with The Wayward Diamonds Illegitimate children of Daytona Diamonds Childrenās Choir tonight, on behalf of the Max? Kael Adoption Agency. These poor children are the avatars of shirked responsibility. The man Iāll be facing tonight refuses to accept these wonderful little boys, girls, and Goat Boy as his own. We all know that Mr. Diamonds is eternally damned to spend his afterlife walking the plains of Hell, doing the bidding of Satan, but itās not too late to keep his children from falling to the same fate.
Winters stands from the pew and walks up to the lectern. All seven children stop reading and look up at him with bright, inquisitive eyes.
DON WINTERS: Good morning children, and welcome to Father Wintersā Wonderland at His Word and Light!
Their response was in unison and warmed Donās heart so much it might just melt.
THE CHOIR: Good morning, Father Winters!
DON WINTERS: Ā It is so good to see all of you here today. Look at those bright and shining faces, almost like diamonds. Now, we have a VERY fun day lined up for all of you. Weāll have a prayer session this morning before Mirmiam and Mary take you for your singing practice, but before all of that, we have a little show for you! Is that something youād like to see?
THE CHOIR: YEAH!
DON WINTERS: (laughing) Okay! Okay! Letās get this show on the road!
Samuel and John appear in the cameraās view, rolling a small puppet theater stage out in front of the children. A slightly curved sign over the top of it reads āWONDERLAND.ā Several of the kids are clapping their hands excitedly as a penguin puppet dressed in a crimson jacket pops its head out from beneath the stage.
PIOUS PENGUIN: Hi Kids! Iām Pious Penguin and Iām here today to teach you about something very important. Responsibility! I want you to say that word with me, because itās a big word and it has an even bigger meaning!
THE CHOIR AND PIOUS PENGUIN: Ā Re-spon-si-bil-ity!
PIOUS PENGUIN: Great job everybody! Does anybody here know what responsibility is? Can I have a show of hands if you do?
Absolutely zero hands fly into the air.
PIOUS PENGUIN: Well thatās okay, kids! You certainly didnāt learn responsibility from your father, and do you know why?
Again, no hands raised, the children are silent, mesmerized by Pious Penguinās tiny flapping arms.
PIOUS PENGUIN: Well kids, itās because he never learned to take any for himself! If he had taken responsibility for each and every one of you (a flipper arm points at each child), we wouldnāt be here today, we wouldnāt be having this conversation and we wouldnāt have this chance to learn about responsibility!
Pious Penguin does a little dance on stage that gets the kids clapping again.
PIOUS PENGUIN: So responsibility is when you have the duty, or the task to take care of, or giving others instruction or direction! Isnāt that exciting? It may seem like a lot of work to have responsibility, and it can be, but it is also something we pride ourselves in! What are some things we have a responsibility for?
A single hand shoots into the air, Billyās.
PIOUS PENGUIN: Yes Billy?
BILLY THE GOAT BOY: We haaa-ve a responsibility to Mr. Kael aaaaa-nd to His Word aaaaaa-nd Light aaaaa-nd to each other. Thatās what it means to me-ehhhh.
PIOUS PENGUIN: Great job, Billy, thatās exactly right! (Pious Penguin turns to face Father Don). Excuse me, Father Winters, but could you come here for a moment?
Don Winters walks over to the puppet theater stage and gets down on one knee, putting him eye-level with Pious Penguin.
DON WINTERS: How are you, Pious Penguin?
PIOUS PENGUIN: Amazing, Father Winters. Can you believe all these great kids weāve got here?
DON WINTERS: It truly is hard to believe, Pious Penguin. Itās even harder to believe that their father wonāt take responsibility for them! These are beautiful, bright and intelligent children, and all they need is a loving home.
PIOUS PENGUIN: Thatās right, Father Winters! And for just pennies a day you can support these wonderful children by calling the number on your screen.
In big block letters a phone number flashes on the bottom of the screen: 1-800-NO-DMNDS.
PIOUS PENGUIN: You can sign up to donate daily, weekly, monthly, yearly, or in a big old lump sum! At least 35% of all donations will go to these wonderful children, while the remaining portion of your donation will go both to His Word and Light and the Max? Kael Adoption agency. Two groups working together to stop homelessness in children and to stop Daytona Diamonds from creating more orphans!
As the final words pop out of Pious Penguinās mouth, a new puppet jumps up from behind the stage. Heās got a sparkly hat and jacket on, and big mean eyebrows pointed downward in the middle to show how angry he is. The children gasp and Pious Penguin flaps his arms around.
PIOUS PENGUIN: Oh no, kids! Itās that no-good, responsibility shirking deadbeat, Dastardly Diamonds! (The kids boo loudly.) What does he want with us!?
DASTARDLY DIAMONDS: Iām here to drink booze, congregate with women and do hard drugs, woooo!
PIOUS PENGUIN: Iām sorry Dastardly, we donāt have any of those things here. This is the House of His Word and Light. Would you like to pray with us today?
DASTARDLY DIAMONDS: Prayinās for the weak! (The children boo again, louder.) Iām here for a good time! Where the girls at!?
PIOUS PENGUIN: Is this any way to speak in front of your own kids!?
Dastardly Diamonds closes the distance and grabs Pious Penguin by the neck. The children are aghast at this show of violent puppetry. A third, incredibly handsome puppet with auburn hair and a crimson suit appears behind Dastardly.
FATHER YARN WINTERS: (Don has snuck behind the theater box and is now playing the role) My poor child, if you choose not to learn responsibility, you must seek Absolution.
Dastardly Diamonds drops Pious Penguin, who makes some adorable little gasping noises while flapping his cute little arms, and charges at Yarn Winters. Little Yarn Winters kicks Dastardly Diamonds in his little felt gut and throws his arms out in the crucifix position, before hitting a devastating puppet version of Absolution. The children go crazy.
PIOUS PENGUIN: (still comically clutching at his throat) Thank you so much, Father Winters!
FATHER YARN WINTERS: Youāre very welcome, Pious Penguin. Children, this is what happens when you donāt accept the responsibilities for your actions. His Word and Light can give you direction and teach you the meaning of responsibility and give you the tools you need to succeed in life.
The curtain closes and the video abruptly cuts to the children doing vocal exercises with Mary and Miriam. The video cuts again to Billy the Goat Boy wistfully grazing in the lush green field, kicking his hooved feet in excitement. It cuts a third time to black and Don Winters slowly walks into frame.
DON WINTERS: I truly hope youāve enjoyed tonightās presentation of Father Wintersā Wonderland, which is made possible by the support of viewers like you. If youād like to support the Childrenās Choir, you can call 1-800-NO-DMNDS right now, operators are standing by and will be ever so thankful for your support. These children, until today, have never called a man Father, please consider that and consider a donation. May you all be blessed and may you all walk in His Light.
The camera fades to black, but the arena stays dark. The only lights are focused on the musicians and singers and their music sheets. The members of His Word and Light are organized in an orchestra. The entire Wayward Diamonds Illegitimate Children of Daytona Diamonds Childrenās Choir are standing on tiered bleachers. They are all dressed impeccably. White suits and crimson shirts for the men and boys, crimson dresses with white shoes for the women and girls. Billy the Goat Boy is dressed in the finest crimson lederhosen and crimson and white buffalo plaid shirt. His golden tuft of hair perfectly coiffed, his little goat nose pinker than it had ever been and he was ready to sing.
We then fade to ringside.
Nick Stuart: Well, that wasā¦ something. And while the orchestra gets underwaā¦ Richard, what are you doing there?
Richard Parker: Yeah, the nameās Nick Stuart and my credit card is five-five-five, oh Nick! Just making a charitable donation to those adorable children. Did you SEE Goat Boy? Tell me you saw Goat Boy.
Nick Stuart: I saw Goat Boy, do you mind using your own credit card there?
Just as Richard Parker is about to respond, the orchestra begins in earnest with everyoneās favorite hymnal, but something isnāt quite the same. The six beautiful boys, girls and Billy the Goat Boy begin singing in unison.
āAmaaaaaaazing grace, how sweeeeeet the sound
His Word and Liiiiiiight saaaaved meeeeeee
I once was lost, but now am fouuuuuuund
Was blind, but now I seeeeeeeā
Richard Parker: Ā Itās quite a remarkable improvement theyāve made in their singing in just two weeks!
Nick Stuart: Iāll say.
Richard Parker: Thatās what happens when the Revelator revelates, baby!
The stage comes alive here and the video board comes to life. Some of the crowd are singing along to what they think are the lyrics.
āāTwas His Word taught my heart to fear
His Light, my fears relieved
And Father Don, his grace appeared
And soon I first believedā
A spotlight appears at center stage. The Revelator Don Winters stands there with his back turned to the crowd, arms out in the crucifix position.
āHis Light has promised good to me
His Word my hope secures
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life enduresā
He pivots on his heel and spins around, his arms remain out and the negative reaction from the crowd grows. The Revelator gives a warm wave and smile to the childrenās choir. Heās wearing a long white jacket studded with crimson gems forming a large cross on his back that gleam and sparkle as they catch the light. His face is painted stark white and a crimson red omega symbol is painted across his chest.
āWhen weāve been here ten thousand years
Bright as the shining sun
Weāve no less days to sing Donās praise
Than when we first begunā
Nick Stuart: Some interesting edits to the lyrics of that one.
Richard Parker: (dabbing a handkerchief at his eyes) Those poor children are absolute angels.
The spotlight follows The Revelator as he begins his march to the ring, adjusting the tape at his wrists and on his fingers as he goes. Don Winters climbs the ring steps and throws off his jacket before vaulting over the top rope into the ring, pretty spry for a 47 year-old man. He faces the hard cam in the center of the ring and stomps his right foot, drops to his knee and throws his arms out in the crucifix one more time. He looks at the choir one last time, crosses his chest and stretches along the top rope, waiting to see what the Cult of the Cowboy has in store for him.
You know the drill. The lights go out, the fans get quiet. Usually, this is the part where a spotlight would flip on and the first notes of āGoinā Out Westā by Tom Waits would hit, but this timeā¦? This time, something different happens. The PRIMEView comes to life, the screen showing rays of sunlight beaming through drifting clouds against a blue sky background. A trumpet sounds. A familiar voice crackles through the speakers, old and weary, each painstaking word echoing through the Caesarās Superdome:
āAnd I heard, as it were, the noise of thunderā¦
One of the four beasts saying,
āCome and see.ā
And I saw,
And beholdā¦ a white horse.ā
An acoustic guitar, sparse and palm muted.
āThe Man Comes Aroundā by Johnny Cash.
Itās not his usual entrance music, but the PRIMEates take it as their cue to start booing. A spotlight does flip on, but itās above the PRIMEview, up near the rafters. Slowly, with arms outstretched and a pair of angel wings attached to his back, Daytona Diamonds is lowered from the rafters. Heās dressed in white from head to toe, but instead of his usual cowboy attire, heās dressed in the vestments of a Pope. Donāt worry, those vestments are still covered in rhinestones. He even has a mitre. Thatās what a Pope hat is called, in case you were wondering.
When his feet finally touch the top of the ramp, he detaches from his rappel rope and puts his hands together, bowing his head as if heās taking a moment for solemn prayer.
Vince Howard: ā¦making his way to the ringā¦ weighing in at two hundred and forty five poundsā¦
A smirk curls at the edges of Daytonaās lips as he lifts his head and looks up from his prayer. Without missing a beat, he winks at the camera and starts making his way down the ramp.
Vince Howard: ā¦from Carson City, Nevadaā¦ he is The Rhinestone Reverend, The Pope of the Rodeo, The Only Daddy Other Than God Thatāll Walk the Lineā¦ DAYTONAAAAAA DIAAAAMONDS!
Just as olā Johnny starts preaching something about āvirgins trimming their wicksā and āwhirlwinds in thorn treesā, Daytona walks up the ring steps and climbs into the ring between the ropes. He looks across the ring at Don Winters, taking a moment to shout out, āGo bless yourself, you skeevy lookinā motherfuckerā before taking off his mitre and placing it atop his respective turnbuckle. He pulls his vestments up and over his head, tossing them out of the ring. Just like that, weāre back to the same old Daytona; leaned back against the ropes, cracking his neck, shit eating grin.
You can take the Pope out of the Cowboy, but you canāt take the Cowboy out of the Pope, huh?
Referee Timo Bolamba checks with both competitors. They each nod before locking eyes across the ring at each other.
DING DING
Nick Stuart: The Revelator versus The Rhinestone Cowboy! Here we go!
Don Winters has the face of a ānot Mad, just Disappointedā stepfather who needs to teach his wayward charge a lesson. Diamonds, for his part, has eyes full of rebellion.
The two men size each other up, stepping forwards and jawing across the ring ā before long, theyāre nose to nose, Winters admonishing the devil in front of him, Diamonds telling Winters that theyāre in hell together tonight. At that, Winters delivers a HELLACIOUS knife edge chop into Diamondsās chest! Diamonds completely no-sells it, sets his jaw, and returns the favor in kind ā Winters soaks it up just as effectively!
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
After each strike, neither man goes for defensive posture ā instead, daring the other to try to hit back as hard as they got. Both chests are starting to glow pink.
SMACK!
SMACK!
THAT shot from Diamonds sent Winters back a step or two, eliciting an āohhhhhh!ā from the massive Superdome crowd!
Daytona Diamonds: Come on, preacher man! Come on!
Diamonds beckons with his hands ā Winters obliges!
SMMMMMACK!
That one sends Daytona to a knee! An even bigger āohhhhh!ā from the crowd! Seeing the opening heās created, Winters presses forward, grabbing Diamonds and hurling him into the opposite ropes ā as Winters sets up for a back body drop, Diamonds holds the top rope for a beat, measures, and counters with a big olā soccer kick right into Wintersās chest!
Nick Stuart: A strike exchange here in the early goings, partner!
Richard Parker: These chops are like taking an axe to a redwood ā effective, sure, but itāll be a good while before either of these trees fall!
Diamonds grabs Winters by the hair ā Timo goes over to try to force a break, and Diamonds obliges by dropping Winters to the mat with a clubbing lariat! He goes for the cover and blink-and-youāll-miss-it style, seems to be going for the tights? It doesnāt matter here, as Winters is able to kick out at one and a half.
Both men hurry up to their feet ā Diamonds is a hair quicker and lunges forward with a Rolling Elbow Strike! Stunned, Winters is forced back into the ropes ā he rebounds, and leaps HIGH in the air ā higher than one might expect for a man his size ā
SMACK!
Nick Stuart: BIG dropkick from Winters! Hereās the cover!
ONE
TW-NO
Richard Parker: The Revelator is just getting started ā weāve gone through Genesis and Exodus, thereās a whole Old Testamentās worth of butt-kicking he has in mind!
Almost on cue, Winters stomps over to Diamonds, determined to beat the devil out of this man one way or another ā locks in the double underhooks ā LIFTS ā and absolutely PLANTS Diamonds skull-first into the mat with a DDT! He goes for another cover!
ONE
TWO
NO! Diamonds kicks out again! This time, heās able to use his momentum to roll towards the ropes and out of bounds. Winters doesnāt seem to care where Diamonds is, as long as he can hit him, and he grabs Winters while heās tangled in the ropes. Bolamba goes in and begins the five count to force a break ā Winters gets a few clubbing forearms in before Timo goes in to more directly intervene ā providing just enough distraction for Diamonds to gouge Winters right in the eyeball.
BOOOOOOOO!
Diamonds acts like nothing is amiss as he untangles himself from the ropes and re-enters the ring. Winters is stumbling a bit, covering his eye with one hand. With his other eye, he sees Daytona charge at him ā Don is able to sidestep and swing wildly with his free arm, which Diamonds ducks. Daytona rebounds, and FLIES forward with a massive lariat, sending both men crashing!
Nick Stuart: Six Shooter from Daytona Diamonds! Biggest move of the match so far, will it be enough?
ONE
TWO
ā¦
NOOOOO! Winters kicks out at two and a half!
Diamonds pounds the mat in frustration ā he wanted that one badly ā and with a wild look in his eyes, he reaches across Wintersās neck and yanks backwards HARD, a seated Dragon Sleeper of sorts. Timo goes in to check for the submission, which Winters does not oblige ā and so, Diamonds takes his thumb and digs it under Wintersās ribcage and into his kidneys. Don howls out and shifts his body violently, breaking loose from the hold. Daytona, in frustration, grabs Wintersās nose with a closed hand, trying to suffocate him ā but Winters fights back!
He throws an elbow into the cowboyās guts! Another! Heās broken free completely! Itās Daytona stumbling a bit now! Winters lifts Diamonds up onto his shoulders in a firemanās carry.
Nick Stuart: Not something we normally see from the preacher ā
Richard Parker: And it friggin shows ā the King of the Rodeo knows how to buck when heās on top of a bull!
Diamonds throws down elbows into Wintersās head in an effort to break free, and does ā he shoves Winters into the ropes and leaps towards him, attempting a Thesz Press ā Winters catches him! He spins, holding into Diamonds, maintaining incredible physical control ā LIFTS-
BOOOOOOOM
Richard Parker: Was that a Blue Thunder Bomb??
Nick Stuart: I think youāre right, partner ā and heās not done!
Winters gets to his feet, bounds up to the second rope, then the top rope ā FLIES?? ā and connects with a springboard moonsault! He hooks the far leg!
ONE
TWO
ā¦
THRENOOOOOOO! Diamonds is able to kick out at the last moment!
Both men are slow to get up ā theyāve expelled a fair amount of energy in bursts. Slowly, lumberingly, both men get to their feet ā Winters sneering at Diamonds, Diamonds sneering at Winters.
SMACK
Winters delivers a knife-edge chop that hurts the cowboy!
SMACK
Diamonds returns in kind with a chop of his own!
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
If their chests were pink before, theyāre purple now, and Diamonds in particular looks to have heavy bruising smattered across his sternum. Both men are sweating, panting, tired, and hurting, but mutual hatred is a renewable energy source that could fuel rockets if it were tangible.
SMACK
Another chop from Diamonds!
CRACK ā THUD
OHHHHHHHHHHH
Winters has ceased playing the Chop Game. He now prefers the Closed Fist To The Temple Game, and this time he wins it on his first try. Diamonds collapses to the ground in a heap after his button is thoroughly smashed. Winters looks around at the packed stadium, looks down at his smarting right hand, and closes it into a fist once again.
He climbs on top of Diamondsās torso and begins raining down right hand after right hand after right hand! Diamonds can barely defend himself from the onslaught.
Deciding itās time to give his knuckles a rest, he grabs Diamonds by the leg and wraps that leg around the back of his own neck ā and lifts.
Itās a gross-looking Stretch Muffler.
Richard Parker: The gunslingerās getting his SPINE realigned!
Nick Stuart: Itās a full-body assault by Don Winters tonight ā strikes here, slams there, and now a submission hold!
Diamonds is shaken to life by the move, and he is UNHAPPY about it ā but not yet in position to do anything about it. He grimaces and yells out as Timo Bolamba checks for the submission!
Winters yells out too, pressing upwards against the knee joint of his opponent, doing what he can to cause as much pain as he can to the man whoās caused so much harm to him and his congregation.
But Diamonds is a desperate man. He canāt go out ā not like this.
And so he begins flailing his arms and wriggling his hips, doing everything in his power to wiggle out. Winters fights to maintain control and is doing well ā until a flailing fist from Diamonds inadvertently (or intentionally?) connects low with Winters. Immediately, Winters releases Diamonds and drops to a knee.
Nick Stuart: Was that a low blow from the Rhinestone Cowboy? If it was, that should be a disqualification!
Richard Parker: Timo Bolamba doesnāt seem to think so ā and neither do I!
Nick Stuart: Dicey at best, and I suppose with no direct evidence and considering the stage weāre on, Bolamba is in no position to call for the b-
Before Nick Stuart can complete his thought, Diamonds has Winters by the head and SMASHES him into the mat with a Rio Bravo reverse STO! He goes for the cover!
ONE
TWO
ā¦
ā¦
THREENOOOOOOOOO
OHHHHHHHH
Following the kickout, Diamonds fluidly moves into position to gain full leg control and stretches back into a Boston Crab! He presses his boot squarely into the skull of the Revelator while leaning into the submission hold, and now itās the Do-Si-Do!
Nick Stuart: Insult to injury on behalf of Daytona Diamonds ā both men are known for this move, and Diamonds is the first to lock it in!
Timo checks on Winters, who is in a ton of pain, but heās pushing through! The fighting spirit will not die!
Diamonds keeps wrenching back on the leg and rubs the sole of his boot across Wintersās face, almost grinding it into the mat ā enough to make a few fans in the front row instinctively grimace and cover their own faces.
We see the pained expression across Wintersās face turn into one of pure determination and will, and he gathers himself, for one, enormous,
HEAVE! He uses his lower body to send Diamonds across the ring, releasing the hold!
Diamonds takes a moment to collect himself and prepares to launch a new angle of attack ā but he doesnāt see the spinning whirligig heading his way!
SMMMMMMMMMMACK
Richard Parker: HOLY HELL, WHAT A ROARING CHOP!!
Nick Stuart: That may have cracked a rib! Diamonds is down!
Winters is breathing heavily now, the effect of this grueling war. He looks to the turnbuckle, looks back at Diamonds, and back to the turnbuckle.
Itās not normally his cup of tea, but after all ā this is Colossus. The biggest show of the year.
Daytona Diamonds doesnāt deserve Absolution, not according to Don Winters. He deserves a one way ticket to hell, away from his flock and out of his life for good.
He makes his way to the corner and climbs each turnbuckle, positioning himself at the top. He turns so his back is to the ring, looking over his shoulder for one final measurement. Satisfied, he gives a Sign Of The Cross, kisses his thumb, and crosses his arms over his chest. He closes his eyes.
ā¦
COFFIN DROP!
ā¦
IT CONNECTS! DON WINTERS CRUSHES DAYTONA DIAMONDS WITH A COFFIN DROP TO A HUGE ROAR!
Winters actually bounces a bit from the impact, enough so that his body is no longer ācoveringā Diamonds for the pin. The Rhinestone Cowboy is out cold.
Time for revenge.
He grabs one of Daytonaās legs and wrenches it into a single leg Boston Crab of his own ā and for good measure, he presses the sole of HIS boot into the face of the cowboy!
Nick Stuart: Sanctified! Don Winters has locked in the Sanctified!
Richard Parker: I thought that was called the Do-Si-Do? These wrestlers and their ābrandingā, I swear!
Nick Stuart: Is this the end? Has Don Winters finally closed the door on the dark chapter of his life brought on by the dirty deeds of Daytona Diamonds??
Winters wants this one, and he wants it BADLY. He remembers how hard his own face was pressed by Diamondsās boot, and for good measure, presses extra hard on the cowboyās skull with his own. Timo checks for the submission, and it looks like Diamonds is close to tapping out!
Daytona goes to slap the mat ā NO! He doesnāt tap! He closes his fist and pounds it into the mat, in complete agony!
We can see the wheels start to turn in Daytonaās eyes ā how did Winters get out of this hold before? Thatās right ā he gathered his strength, and HEAVE-
ā no dice! Winters maintains control! He goes for another bodily heave ā no dice!
He realizes if heās going to escape, if heās going to survive this match ā if heās going to WIN this thing, and maybe use this win to propel himself into a better life ā he canāt do this like a preacher.
He needs to do this like a cowboy.
Thereās an angle that not many wrestlers know about when theyāre trapped in a Kawada Crabā¦Diamonds, as a proprietor himself, knows the cheekiest one.
From his inverted angle, he balls up his fist, turns his head as best he can (given the circumstances), and goes for the hail mary ā an ugly, ungraceful, Draymond Green-esque swinging backfist directed right at the back of Wintersā knee!
ā¦
It connects! Winters still has the Boston Crab component locked, but heās lost the added boot to Diamondās head ā another swinging shot to the knee! Winters releases the hold and hops on his non-compromised leg!
The Rhinestone Cowboy is a cornered animal ā wounded, exhausted, and starving. He may not get another opening like this, and he knows it. He needs to turn that limp into something worse.
He charges acrossā¦
Nick Stuart: BOOT SCOOTINā BOOGIE!
He connects with a basement dropkick to the Revelatorās bad knee! Don Winters is down!
From a standing position, Diamonds leaps into the air and delivers a double-stomp onto the bad knee! And another! Now heās stomping a mudhole in the thing!
Richard Parker: PREACHER MAN! CALL UPON THE LIGHT TO HEAL YOU! BRING HOLY LIGHT INTO YOUR LEG! GET UP!
Richardās call is absorbed by the darkness, as it often is.
This time itās Diamonds whoās taking in the roaring crowd ā though this time, itās decidedly a more negative reaction. This cowboy is a bad man, and he has bad intentionsā¦
ā¦intentions that reveal themselves as he makes his way to the turnbuckle, as Winters had done before.
Nick Stuart: Daytona Diamonds is NOT a high flyer ā but I guess neither is Don Winters! Both men pulling out all the stops in this contest!
Richard Parker: You only get one shot a year to pick up the dubya at Colossus, partner! Go big or go back to the saloon!
Diamonds makes his way to the top rope and steadies himself. He doesnāt turn his back on Winters ā instead, he faces him head on. He does his own Sign of the Cross, though itās clear heās very out of practice, and the Spectacles-Testicles-Wallet-Watch ordering is extremely suspicious. If heās concerned about it, he doesnāt let it show, as he FLIES-
ā¦
He bends his knees in the air, locking in on his target ā Don Wintersās coiffed ginger skull.
ā¦
BBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM
Nick Stuart: OH MY GOD! DAYTONA DIAMONDS JUST HIT THE BLOOD MERIDIAN!
Richard Parker: That absolutely CRUSHED the Revelator, but the cowboyās not doing well either!
Indeed, while Winters is fully unconscious at this point, the diving double-knee strike immediately shoots bolts of lightning up and down Diamondsās lower body! Heās in agony, but he has one advantage left ā heās conscious.
He shimmies over as quickly as he can to his fallen opponent and lays across his chest ā heās in too much pain to even consider hooking the leg.
ONE
TWO
ā¦
ā¦
ā¦
THREE
DING DING DING
āGoin Out Westā by Tom Waits blares throughout the arena. Despite both of these men being right bastards, fans in attendance are on their feet in appreciation for the fighting spirit shown by both men.
Vince Howard: Here is your winnerā¦.DAYYYYTONAAAAAAAAAAA DIIIIIIIIIIIAMOOOOOOOOONDS!!
Diamonds can barely get to his feet. His chest is bleeding, heās got a knot under his eye, and the adrenaline of the final moments of the match may be wearing off as he can barely get to his feet to have his hand raised by Timo Bolamba.
Nick Stuart: Both men came into this match feeling it was must-win, and both men unloaded everything they had tonight ā in the end, Daytona Diamonds pulls it out.
Richard Parker: Look at the cowboy ā heās dead on his feet, but now heās acting like he just won the lottery!
The old rush of Decisive Combat Adrenaline has been replaced by the new rush of Iām Rich, Bitch! Adrenaline, and Diamonds whoops and hollers as he rolls out of the ring and jumps up and down in celebration!
Nick Stuart: Weāre only two matches deep into night one of Colossus and weāve already seen some incredible action! Stay tuned for more, right after this!
We cut to commercial.
Nick Stuart: Well, that wasā¦ something. And while the orchestra gets underwaā¦ Richard, what are you doing there?
Richard Parker: Yeah, the nameās Nick Stuart and my credit card is five-five-five, oh Nick! Just making a charitable donation to those adorable children. Did you SEE Goat Boy? Tell me you saw Goat Boy.
Nick Stuart: I saw Goat Boy, do you mind using your own credit card there?
Just as Richard Parker is about to respond, the orchestra begins in earnest with everyoneās favorite hymnal, but something isnāt quite the same. The six beautiful boys, girls and Billy the Goat Boy begin singing in unison.
āAmaaaaaaazing grace, how sweeeeeet the sound
His Word and Liiiiiiight saaaaved meeeeeee
I once was lost, but now am fouuuuuuund
Was blind, but now I seeeeeeeā
Richard Parker: Ā Itās quite a remarkable improvement theyāve made in their singing in just two weeks!
Nick Stuart: Iāll say.
Richard Parker: Thatās what happens when the Revelator revelates, baby!
The stage comes alive here and the video board comes to life. Some of the crowd are singing along to what they think are the lyrics.
āāTwas His Word taught my heart to fear
His Light, my fears relieved
And Father Don, his grace appeared
And soon I first believedā
A spotlight appears at center stage. The Revelator Don Winters stands there with his back turned to the crowd, arms out in the crucifix position.
āHis Light has promised good to me
His Word my hope secures
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life enduresā
He pivots on his heel and spins around, his arms remain out and the negative reaction from the crowd grows. The Revelator gives a warm wave and smile to the childrenās choir. Heās wearing a long white jacket studded with crimson gems forming a large cross on his back that gleam and sparkle as they catch the light. His face is painted stark white and a crimson red omega symbol is painted across his chest.
āWhen weāve been here ten thousand years
Bright as the shining sun
Weāve no less days to sing Donās praise
Than when we first begunā
Nick Stuart: Some interesting edits to the lyrics of that one.
Richard Parker: (dabbing a handkerchief at his eyes) Those poor children are absolute angels.
The spotlight follows The Revelator as he begins his march to the ring, adjusting the tape at his wrists and on his fingers as he goes. Don Winters climbs the ring steps and throws off his jacket before vaulting over the top rope into the ring, pretty spry for a 47 year-old man. He faces the hard cam in the center of the ring and stomps his right foot, drops to his knee and throws his arms out in the crucifix one more time. He looks at the choir one last time, crosses his chest and stretches along the top rope, waiting to see what the Cult of the Cowboy has in store for him.
You know the drill. The lights go out, the fans get quiet. Usually, this is the part where a spotlight would flip on and the first notes of āGoinā Out Westā by Tom Waits would hit, but this timeā¦? This time, something different happens. The PRIMEView comes to life, the screen showing rays of sunlight beaming through drifting clouds against a blue sky background. A trumpet sounds. A familiar voice crackles through the speakers, old and weary, each painstaking word echoing through the Caesarās Superdome:
āAnd I heard, as it were, the noise of thunderā¦
One of the four beasts saying,
āCome and see.ā
And I saw,
And beholdā¦ a white horse.ā
An acoustic guitar, sparse and palm muted.
āThe Man Comes Aroundā by Johnny Cash.
Itās not his usual entrance music, but the PRIMEates take it as their cue to start booing. A spotlight does flip on, but itās above the PRIMEview, up near the rafters. Slowly, with arms outstretched and a pair of angel wings attached to his back, Daytona Diamonds is lowered from the rafters. Heās dressed in white from head to toe, but instead of his usual cowboy attire, heās dressed in the vestments of a Pope. Donāt worry, those vestments are still covered in rhinestones. He even has a mitre. Thatās what a Pope hat is called, in case you were wondering.
When his feet finally touch the top of the ramp, he detaches from his rappel rope and puts his hands together, bowing his head as if heās taking a moment for solemn prayer.
Vince Howard: ā¦making his way to the ringā¦ weighing in at two hundred and forty five poundsā¦
A smirk curls at the edges of Daytonaās lips as he lifts his head and looks up from his prayer. Without missing a beat, he winks at the camera and starts making his way down the ramp.
Vince Howard: ā¦from Carson City, Nevadaā¦ he is The Rhinestone Reverend, The Pope of the Rodeo, The Only Daddy Other Than God Thatāll Walk the Lineā¦ DAYTONAAAAAA DIAAAAMONDS!
Just as olā Johnny starts preaching something about āvirgins trimming their wicksā and āwhirlwinds in thorn treesā, Daytona walks up the ring steps and climbs into the ring between the ropes. He looks across the ring at Don Winters, taking a moment to shout out, āGo bless yourself, you skeevy lookinā motherfuckerā before taking off his mitre and placing it atop his respective turnbuckle. He pulls his vestments up and over his head, tossing them out of the ring. Just like that, weāre back to the same old Daytona; leaned back against the ropes, cracking his neck, shit eating grin.
You can take the Pope out of the Cowboy, but you canāt take the Cowboy out of the Pope, huh?
Referee Timo Bolamba checks with both competitors. They each nod before locking eyes across the ring at each other.
DING DING
Nick Stuart: The Revelator versus The Rhinestone Cowboy! Here we go!
Don Winters has the face of a ānot Mad, just Disappointedā stepfather who needs to teach his wayward charge a lesson. Diamonds, for his part, has eyes full of rebellion.
The two men size each other up, stepping forwards and jawing across the ring ā before long, theyāre nose to nose, Winters admonishing the devil in front of him, Diamonds telling Winters that theyāre in hell together tonight. At that, Winters delivers a HELLACIOUS knife edge chop into Diamondsās chest! Diamonds completely no-sells it, sets his jaw, and returns the favor in kind ā Winters soaks it up just as effectively!
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
SMACK!
After each strike, neither man goes for defensive posture ā instead, daring the other to try to hit back as hard as they got. Both chests are starting to glow pink.
SMACK!
SMACK!
THAT shot from Diamonds sent Winters back a step or two, eliciting an āohhhhhh!ā from the massive Superdome crowd!
Daytona Diamonds: Come on, preacher man! Come on!
Diamonds beckons with his hands ā Winters obliges!
SMMMMMACK!
That one sends Daytona to a knee! An even bigger āohhhhh!ā from the crowd! Seeing the opening heās created, Winters presses forward, grabbing Diamonds and hurling him into the opposite ropes ā as Winters sets up for a back body drop, Diamonds holds the top rope for a beat, measures, and counters with a big olā soccer kick right into Wintersās chest!
Nick Stuart: A strike exchange here in the early goings, partner!
Richard Parker: These chops are like taking an axe to a redwood ā effective, sure, but itāll be a good while before either of these trees fall!
Diamonds grabs Winters by the hair ā Timo goes over to try to force a break, and Diamonds obliges by dropping Winters to the mat with a clubbing lariat! He goes for the cover and blink-and-youāll-miss-it style, seems to be going for the tights? It doesnāt matter here, as Winters is able to kick out at one and a half.
Both men hurry up to their feet ā Diamonds is a hair quicker and lunges forward with a Rolling Elbow Strike! Stunned, Winters is forced back into the ropes ā he rebounds, and leaps HIGH in the air ā higher than one might expect for a man his size ā
SMACK!
Nick Stuart: BIG dropkick from Winters! Hereās the cover!
ONE
TW-NO
Richard Parker: The Revelator is just getting started ā weāve gone through Genesis and Exodus, thereās a whole Old Testamentās worth of butt-kicking he has in mind!
Almost on cue, Winters stomps over to Diamonds, determined to beat the devil out of this man one way or another ā locks in the double underhooks ā LIFTS ā and absolutely PLANTS Diamonds skull-first into the mat with a DDT! He goes for another cover!
ONE
TWO
NO! Diamonds kicks out again! This time, heās able to use his momentum to roll towards the ropes and out of bounds. Winters doesnāt seem to care where Diamonds is, as long as he can hit him, and he grabs Winters while heās tangled in the ropes. Bolamba goes in and begins the five count to force a break ā Winters gets a few clubbing forearms in before Timo goes in to more directly intervene ā providing just enough distraction for Diamonds to gouge Winters right in the eyeball.
BOOOOOOOO!
Diamonds acts like nothing is amiss as he untangles himself from the ropes and re-enters the ring. Winters is stumbling a bit, covering his eye with one hand. With his other eye, he sees Daytona charge at him ā Don is able to sidestep and swing wildly with his free arm, which Diamonds ducks. Daytona rebounds, and FLIES forward with a massive lariat, sending both men crashing!
Nick Stuart: Six Shooter from Daytona Diamonds! Biggest move of the match so far, will it be enough?
ONE
TWO
ā¦
NOOOOO! Winters kicks out at two and a half!
Diamonds pounds the mat in frustration ā he wanted that one badly ā and with a wild look in his eyes, he reaches across Wintersās neck and yanks backwards HARD, a seated Dragon Sleeper of sorts. Timo goes in to check for the submission, which Winters does not oblige ā and so, Diamonds takes his thumb and digs it under Wintersās ribcage and into his kidneys. Don howls out and shifts his body violently, breaking loose from the hold. Daytona, in frustration, grabs Wintersās nose with a closed hand, trying to suffocate him ā but Winters fights back!
He throws an elbow into the cowboyās guts! Another! Heās broken free completely! Itās Daytona stumbling a bit now! Winters lifts Diamonds up onto his shoulders in a firemanās carry.
Nick Stuart: Not something we normally see from the preacher ā
Richard Parker: And it friggin shows ā the King of the Rodeo knows how to buck when heās on top of a bull!
Diamonds throws down elbows into Wintersās head in an effort to break free, and does ā he shoves Winters into the ropes and leaps towards him, attempting a Thesz Press ā Winters catches him! He spins, holding into Diamonds, maintaining incredible physical control ā LIFTS-
BOOOOOOOM
Richard Parker: Was that a Blue Thunder Bomb??
Nick Stuart: I think youāre right, partner ā and heās not done!
Winters gets to his feet, bounds up to the second rope, then the top rope ā FLIES?? ā and connects with a springboard moonsault! He hooks the far leg!
ONE
TWO
ā¦
THRENOOOOOOO! Diamonds is able to kick out at the last moment!
Both men are slow to get up ā theyāve expelled a fair amount of energy in bursts. Slowly, lumberingly, both men get to their feet ā Winters sneering at Diamonds, Diamonds sneering at Winters.
SMACK
Winters delivers a knife-edge chop that hurts the cowboy!
SMACK
Diamonds returns in kind with a chop of his own!
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
If their chests were pink before, theyāre purple now, and Diamonds in particular looks to have heavy bruising smattered across his sternum. Both men are sweating, panting, tired, and hurting, but mutual hatred is a renewable energy source that could fuel rockets if it were tangible.
SMACK
Another chop from Diamonds!
CRACK ā THUD
OHHHHHHHHHHH
Winters has ceased playing the Chop Game. He now prefers the Closed Fist To The Temple Game, and this time he wins it on his first try. Diamonds collapses to the ground in a heap after his button is thoroughly smashed. Winters looks around at the packed stadium, looks down at his smarting right hand, and closes it into a fist once again.
He climbs on top of Diamondsās torso and begins raining down right hand after right hand after right hand! Diamonds can barely defend himself from the onslaught.
Deciding itās time to give his knuckles a rest, he grabs Diamonds by the leg and wraps that leg around the back of his own neck ā and lifts.
Itās a gross-looking Stretch Muffler.
Richard Parker: The gunslingerās getting his SPINE realigned!
Nick Stuart: Itās a full-body assault by Don Winters tonight ā strikes here, slams there, and now a submission hold!
Diamonds is shaken to life by the move, and he is UNHAPPY about it ā but not yet in position to do anything about it. He grimaces and yells out as Timo Bolamba checks for the submission!
Winters yells out too, pressing upwards against the knee joint of his opponent, doing what he can to cause as much pain as he can to the man whoās caused so much harm to him and his congregation.
But Diamonds is a desperate man. He canāt go out ā not like this.
And so he begins flailing his arms and wriggling his hips, doing everything in his power to wiggle out. Winters fights to maintain control and is doing well ā until a flailing fist from Diamonds inadvertently (or intentionally?) connects low with Winters. Immediately, Winters releases Diamonds and drops to a knee.
Nick Stuart: Was that a low blow from the Rhinestone Cowboy? If it was, that should be a disqualification!
Richard Parker: Timo Bolamba doesnāt seem to think so ā and neither do I!
Nick Stuart: Dicey at best, and I suppose with no direct evidence and considering the stage weāre on, Bolamba is in no position to call for the b-
Before Nick Stuart can complete his thought, Diamonds has Winters by the head and SMASHES him into the mat with a Rio Bravo reverse STO! He goes for the cover!
ONE
TWO
ā¦
ā¦
THREENOOOOOOOOO
OHHHHHHHH
Following the kickout, Diamonds fluidly moves into position to gain full leg control and stretches back into a Boston Crab! He presses his boot squarely into the skull of the Revelator while leaning into the submission hold, and now itās the Do-Si-Do!
Nick Stuart: Insult to injury on behalf of Daytona Diamonds ā both men are known for this move, and Diamonds is the first to lock it in!
Timo checks on Winters, who is in a ton of pain, but heās pushing through! The fighting spirit will not die!
Diamonds keeps wrenching back on the leg and rubs the sole of his boot across Wintersās face, almost grinding it into the mat ā enough to make a few fans in the front row instinctively grimace and cover their own faces.
We see the pained expression across Wintersās face turn into one of pure determination and will, and he gathers himself, for one, enormous,
HEAVE! He uses his lower body to send Diamonds across the ring, releasing the hold!
Diamonds takes a moment to collect himself and prepares to launch a new angle of attack ā but he doesnāt see the spinning whirligig heading his way!
SMMMMMMMMMMACK
Richard Parker: HOLY HELL, WHAT A ROARING CHOP!!
Nick Stuart: That may have cracked a rib! Diamonds is down!
Winters is breathing heavily now, the effect of this grueling war. He looks to the turnbuckle, looks back at Diamonds, and back to the turnbuckle.
Itās not normally his cup of tea, but after all ā this is Colossus. The biggest show of the year.
Daytona Diamonds doesnāt deserve Absolution, not according to Don Winters. He deserves a one way ticket to hell, away from his flock and out of his life for good.
He makes his way to the corner and climbs each turnbuckle, positioning himself at the top. He turns so his back is to the ring, looking over his shoulder for one final measurement. Satisfied, he gives a Sign Of The Cross, kisses his thumb, and crosses his arms over his chest. He closes his eyes.
ā¦
COFFIN DROP!
ā¦
IT CONNECTS! DON WINTERS CRUSHES DAYTONA DIAMONDS WITH A COFFIN DROP TO A HUGE ROAR!
Winters actually bounces a bit from the impact, enough so that his body is no longer ācoveringā Diamonds for the pin. The Rhinestone Cowboy is out cold.
Time for revenge.
He grabs one of Daytonaās legs and wrenches it into a single leg Boston Crab of his own ā and for good measure, he presses the sole of HIS boot into the face of the cowboy!
Nick Stuart: Sanctified! Don Winters has locked in the Sanctified!
Richard Parker: I thought that was called the Do-Si-Do? These wrestlers and their ābrandingā, I swear!
Nick Stuart: Is this the end? Has Don Winters finally closed the door on the dark chapter of his life brought on by the dirty deeds of Daytona Diamonds??
Winters wants this one, and he wants it BADLY. He remembers how hard his own face was pressed by Diamondsās boot, and for good measure, presses extra hard on the cowboyās skull with his own. Timo checks for the submission, and it looks like Diamonds is close to tapping out!
Daytona goes to slap the mat ā NO! He doesnāt tap! He closes his fist and pounds it into the mat, in complete agony!
We can see the wheels start to turn in Daytonaās eyes ā how did Winters get out of this hold before? Thatās right ā he gathered his strength, and HEAVE-
ā no dice! Winters maintains control! He goes for another bodily heave ā no dice!
He realizes if heās going to escape, if heās going to survive this match ā if heās going to WIN this thing, and maybe use this win to propel himself into a better life ā he canāt do this like a preacher.
He needs to do this like a cowboy.
Thereās an angle that not many wrestlers know about when theyāre trapped in a Kawada Crabā¦Diamonds, as a proprietor himself, knows the cheekiest one.
From his inverted angle, he balls up his fist, turns his head as best he can (given the circumstances), and goes for the hail mary ā an ugly, ungraceful, Draymond Green-esque swinging backfist directed right at the back of Wintersā knee!
ā¦
It connects! Winters still has the Boston Crab component locked, but heās lost the added boot to Diamondās head ā another swinging shot to the knee! Winters releases the hold and hops on his non-compromised leg!
The Rhinestone Cowboy is a cornered animal ā wounded, exhausted, and starving. He may not get another opening like this, and he knows it. He needs to turn that limp into something worse.
He charges acrossā¦
Nick Stuart: BOOT SCOOTINā BOOGIE!
He connects with a basement dropkick to the Revelatorās bad knee! Don Winters is down!
From a standing position, Diamonds leaps into the air and delivers a double-stomp onto the bad knee! And another! Now heās stomping a mudhole in the thing!
Richard Parker: PREACHER MAN! CALL UPON THE LIGHT TO HEAL YOU! BRING HOLY LIGHT INTO YOUR LEG! GET UP!
Richardās call is absorbed by the darkness, as it often is.
This time itās Diamonds whoās taking in the roaring crowd ā though this time, itās decidedly a more negative reaction. This cowboy is a bad man, and he has bad intentionsā¦
ā¦intentions that reveal themselves as he makes his way to the turnbuckle, as Winters had done before.
Nick Stuart: Daytona Diamonds is NOT a high flyer ā but I guess neither is Don Winters! Both men pulling out all the stops in this contest!
Richard Parker: You only get one shot a year to pick up the dubya at Colossus, partner! Go big or go back to the saloon!
Diamonds makes his way to the top rope and steadies himself. He doesnāt turn his back on Winters ā instead, he faces him head on. He does his own Sign of the Cross, though itās clear heās very out of practice, and the Spectacles-Testicles-Wallet-Watch ordering is extremely suspicious. If heās concerned about it, he doesnāt let it show, as he FLIES-
ā¦
He bends his knees in the air, locking in on his target ā Don Wintersās coiffed ginger skull.
ā¦
BBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM
Nick Stuart: OH MY GOD! DAYTONA DIAMONDS JUST HIT THE BLOOD MERIDIAN!
Richard Parker: That absolutely CRUSHED the Revelator, but the cowboyās not doing well either!
Indeed, while Winters is fully unconscious at this point, the diving double-knee strike immediately shoots bolts of lightning up and down Diamondsās lower body! Heās in agony, but he has one advantage left ā heās conscious.
He shimmies over as quickly as he can to his fallen opponent and lays across his chest ā heās in too much pain to even consider hooking the leg.
ONE
TWO
ā¦
ā¦
ā¦
THREE
DING DING DING
āGoin Out Westā by Tom Waits blares throughout the arena. Despite both of these men being right bastards, fans in attendance are on their feet in appreciation for the fighting spirit shown by both men.
Vince Howard: Here is your winnerā¦.DAYYYYTONAAAAAAAAAAA DIIIIIIIIIIIAMOOOOOOOOONDS!!
Diamonds can barely get to his feet. His chest is bleeding, heās got a knot under his eye, and the adrenaline of the final moments of the match may be wearing off as he can barely get to his feet to have his hand raised by Timo Bolamba.
Nick Stuart: Both men came into this match feeling it was must-win, and both men unloaded everything they had tonight ā in the end, Daytona Diamonds pulls it out.
Richard Parker: Look at the cowboy ā heās dead on his feet, but now heās acting like he just won the lottery!
The old rush of Decisive Combat Adrenaline has been replaced by the new rush of Iām Rich, Bitch! Adrenaline, and Diamonds whoops and hollers as he rolls out of the ring and jumps up and down in celebration!
Nick Stuart: Weāre only two matches deep into night one of Colossus and weāve already seen some incredible action! Stay tuned for more, right after this!
We cut to commercial.
We are now back from commercial.
New Orleans.
Superdome.
Colossus X.
Showtime.
KING, led by Rose, exits their locker room. Roseās focus is sharp as she strides down the hall, focused on getting to the Argyle position. Directly behind her is David Noble and he is followed by Cory Kensington, Jamaal Ingram, and Shawn Graham.
Rose: Have I made myself crystal clear?
David Noble: Roseā
Rose: I guess not.
She spins on her heel and looks at David.
Rose: I get it. You want to be there to protect me. So does Cory, Jamaal, and Shawn. You lot can stay at Argyle and watch. If things get out of control, do what you must. You will not come down to ringside with me though. Above all, no one is to lay a finger on Tom. Thatās only for me. Do we all understand?
There is silence from the male members of KING, which she takes to be acceptance of the matter theyāve been discussing for the better part of the last hour. Rose flashes a quick smile at David, hoping to calm him a bit, but he seems as clenched as ever. She turns around and continues to walk down the hallway, passing by a series of rooms that are for production, the office of Lindsay Troy, the Red Army locker room, catering services, etc.
As she walks past by the last room, she pauses and turns back around. She passes by the catering room and stands before a locker room door. She pauses for a second before clenching her right fist and slams it repeatedly into the hard metal. The sound reverberates as she waits for someone to answer the door which she knocked at.
The one labeled RED ARMY.
The door opens a crack as the curious face of Alexei Ruslan peers through the opening. The droning sound of Russian military marches rolls out from behind him as he looks Rose up and down carefully.
Alexei Ruslan: What?
Rose gives Alexei a half-second glance and brushes past him. The rest of KING hangs by the threshold while Rose goes deeper into the locker room. Her eyes land upon the other people in Ivanās locker room, deep in conversation and speaking in Russian. Itās a Russianās paradise. Ivan Stanislav sits while simultaneously looming over a large desk chatting to a standing Speedy Riggs. Maksim stands along the wall and leans, looking at his phone and pointing something out to Arina and Yanukovich.
Rose: Out.
Amidst the beeās nest of activity, her words are either lost, or ignored, by everyone in the room. She grabs a wooden chair and smashes it against the wall, the shattered wood lands on the floor, and immediately everyone looks at the KING leader.
Rose: ŠŠ½Šµ! (Out!)
Alexei rounds the corner to see what is going on, his baton already in his hand while Speedy, Arina, Maskim, and Yanukovich look at Ivan in confusion. Roseās chest is heaving at this point, her anger radiating from every inch of her body. Somehow, the Russian music even stops. Itās quiet now and the Universal Champion places his paws on his desk and pushes himself up out of his seat with a screech. Stanislav canāt help but smirk and he nods at his comrades, indicating they can step outside and, one by one, they file out, leaving the Rose and the Universal Champion alone. Alexei loiters outside of the doorway, but gives them space.
Stanislav rounds his desk slowly and places his hands behind his back, looking down, down, down at the woman who is over a foot shorter and less than half his weight.
Ivan Stanislav: I had better not get fined for that.
He says, nodding to the kindling along the far wall.
Rose looks at the Universal Champion, her eyes narrowed.
Rose: Put it on my tab.
She closes the gap between her and the desk at which Ivan is standing at. Thereās no fear in her eyes as she looks up at the monster of PRIME.
Rose: I thought you were a better leader, Ivan. I thought you were a man who could keep your comrades in line. Yet, apparently, thatās not the case. I couldnāt make it to ReVival 40 due to my daughter being ill, but I didnāt think twice about it. I told myself David would act the way he should, and Ivan would make sure Pleasant would do the same. How do you think that turned out?
Stanislav inclines a bushy eyebrow and shrugs his shoulders.
Ivan Stanislav: I do not play by Lindsay Troyās rules. And we do not play by yours either. If you want to talk about the past, so be it, but I have to ask why your dog, Noble, is not in here arguing for his own battles? Maybe his mother should have been at ReVival 40 taking care of him instead of her daughter?
Her eyes lower to the desk as her hands wrap around the wood and grips it.
Rose: I have rules for a reason, Ivan. You would do well not to talk about my men as if theyāre the equivalent to the citizens of Russia. You call Noble a dog again, and you will learn how ferocious my bite is.
Her eyes then locked back upon Ivan.
Rose: And you ever mention my daughter again and you will see that Putinās KGB days were mild compared to what my reaction will be. Do we understand each other? You do not frighten me. I do not view you as the boogeyman that others around here might.
Her jaw is set as she looks at him.
Rose: Iām more than happy to give you my respect. You aid my overall goals with your constant needling of Lindsay Troy but do not mistake that respect for a person you can walk all over. Do we understand one another?
Stanislav sets his jaw tightly while he listens to Rose, his eyes half lidded but heās listening. His breathing whistles through his nostrils.
Ivan Stanislav: You walk into -my- room, you think you can order -my- people about, you break -my- chair which, I am sure, was built by hard working proletarians I might add, and you threaten me?
He clicks his tongue and shakes his head.
Ivan Stanislav: I will respect your courage, which may border upon foolishness, but we will see. I have nothing to gain by wrecking your match later by putting you through that wall.
He nods towards the far wall.
Ivan Stanislav: And besides, I would much rather you make the Luchador bleed anyway. But you can be brave, Rose, and you can be confident, but just donāt be blind to what realities may still be standing over you, hm?
He points a huge finger down at her.
Ivan Stanislav: Maybe we get off on wrong foot, hm? Maybe that match, putting David and Arthur together, was just means for Lindsay Troy to try to get us to this point right now, eh? Little time for us to plan? Not much chance for us to coordinate? Meanwhile the other two are luchador who are already in sync. So, I tell you what, Rose: We start over, hm? What do you say?
Rose slowly nods her head.
Rose: Possibly, my anger got the better of me in the moment. That anger, though, is justified.
A smile creeps across her face.
Rose: Pleasantās actions were rather disappointing to me. To lose the match in that manner, when I thought he understood the importance of it, was infuriating, to say the least. I would ask that you deal with it. I view you as a leader and know you will do what is necessary.
She turns her head and looks at Alexei before looking back at Ivan.
Rose: Youāve got a lot to think about, Ivan. Big match tomorrow night. To send Lindsay home with disappointment for the holidays would mean something to me. I think you and I know quite well how manipulative Lindsay can be, so look out for whatever she has up her sleeve next. Iāve watched her from afar for most of my life, and I think you understand her as well as I do.
She then moves backward.
Rose: Iāve got a Luchador to handle. I donāt want to be put through a wall, at least not today. As you will notice, my team will listen to me. Maybe we can share leadership tips one day. Have fun with the Neck Collector.
Ivan nods his head slowly but doesnāt take his eyes off of Rose. He nods once and lets her exit. Alexei walks into the room, as does the rest of the Russians (and Speedy). He approaches Ivan and looks up at him.
Alexei Ruslan: The hell was that all about, Vanya?
Stanislav rubs his bristly beard and muses.
Ivan Stanislav: Now sure, Alexei, but it was interesting.
The two Russians exchange curious but intrigued glances while Arina shuts the door behind her.
Outside of the room, Noble glares at Rose, confused.
David Noble: Care to explain?
Rose: Iron sharpens iron. Now Iām ready for Tom.
David Noble: How so?
Rose: Get the adrenaline running a bit. When you stare down a Russian bear and donāt flinch, a mere man in a mask doesnāt seem quite so dangerous.
David chuckles and shakes his head.
David Noble: Ready?
Rose walks off, confident with each step. She spins around and continues walking backward, looking back at David.
Rose: Always.
We then cut to ringside.
We are now back from commercial.
New Orleans.
Superdome.
Colossus X.
Showtime.
KING, led by Rose, exits their locker room. Roseās focus is sharp as she strides down the hall, focused on getting to the Argyle position. Directly behind her is David Noble and he is followed by Cory Kensington, Jamaal Ingram, and Shawn Graham.
Rose: Have I made myself crystal clear?
David Noble: Roseā
Rose: I guess not.
She spins on her heel and looks at David.
Rose: I get it. You want to be there to protect me. So does Cory, Jamaal, and Shawn. You lot can stay at Argyle and watch. If things get out of control, do what you must. You will not come down to ringside with me though. Above all, no one is to lay a finger on Tom. Thatās only for me. Do we all understand?
There is silence from the male members of KING, which she takes to be acceptance of the matter theyāve been discussing for the better part of the last hour. Rose flashes a quick smile at David, hoping to calm him a bit, but he seems as clenched as ever. She turns around and continues to walk down the hallway, passing by a series of rooms that are for production, the office of Lindsay Troy, the Red Army locker room, catering services, etc.
As she walks past by the last room, she pauses and turns back around. She passes by the catering room and stands before a locker room door. She pauses for a second before clenching her right fist and slams it repeatedly into the hard metal. The sound reverberates as she waits for someone to answer the door which she knocked at.
The one labeled RED ARMY.
The door opens a crack as the curious face of Alexei Ruslan peers through the opening. The droning sound of Russian military marches rolls out from behind him as he looks Rose up and down carefully.
Alexei Ruslan: What?
Rose gives Alexei a half-second glance and brushes past him. The rest of KING hangs by the threshold while Rose goes deeper into the locker room. Her eyes land upon the other people in Ivanās locker room, deep in conversation and speaking in Russian. Itās a Russianās paradise. Ivan Stanislav sits while simultaneously looming over a large desk chatting to a standing Speedy Riggs. Maksim stands along the wall and leans, looking at his phone and pointing something out to Arina and Yanukovich.
Rose: Out.
Amidst the beeās nest of activity, her words are either lost, or ignored, by everyone in the room. She grabs a wooden chair and smashes it against the wall, the shattered wood lands on the floor, and immediately everyone looks at the KING leader.
Rose: ŠŠ½Šµ! (Out!)
Alexei rounds the corner to see what is going on, his baton already in his hand while Speedy, Arina, Maskim, and Yanukovich look at Ivan in confusion. Roseās chest is heaving at this point, her anger radiating from every inch of her body. Somehow, the Russian music even stops. Itās quiet now and the Universal Champion places his paws on his desk and pushes himself up out of his seat with a screech. Stanislav canāt help but smirk and he nods at his comrades, indicating they can step outside and, one by one, they file out, leaving the Rose and the Universal Champion alone. Alexei loiters outside of the doorway, but gives them space.
Stanislav rounds his desk slowly and places his hands behind his back, looking down, down, down at the woman who is over a foot shorter and less than half his weight.
Ivan Stanislav: I had better not get fined for that.
He says, nodding to the kindling along the far wall.
Rose looks at the Universal Champion, her eyes narrowed.
Rose: Put it on my tab.
She closes the gap between her and the desk at which Ivan is standing at. Thereās no fear in her eyes as she looks up at the monster of PRIME.
Rose: I thought you were a better leader, Ivan. I thought you were a man who could keep your comrades in line. Yet, apparently, thatās not the case. I couldnāt make it to ReVival 40 due to my daughter being ill, but I didnāt think twice about it. I told myself David would act the way he should, and Ivan would make sure Pleasant would do the same. How do you think that turned out?
Stanislav inclines a bushy eyebrow and shrugs his shoulders.
Ivan Stanislav: I do not play by Lindsay Troyās rules. And we do not play by yours either. If you want to talk about the past, so be it, but I have to ask why your dog, Noble, is not in here arguing for his own battles? Maybe his mother should have been at ReVival 40 taking care of him instead of her daughter?
Her eyes lower to the desk as her hands wrap around the wood and grips it.
Rose: I have rules for a reason, Ivan. You would do well not to talk about my men as if theyāre the equivalent to the citizens of Russia. You call Noble a dog again, and you will learn how ferocious my bite is.
Her eyes then locked back upon Ivan.
Rose: And you ever mention my daughter again and you will see that Putinās KGB days were mild compared to what my reaction will be. Do we understand each other? You do not frighten me. I do not view you as the boogeyman that others around here might.
Her jaw is set as she looks at him.
Rose: Iām more than happy to give you my respect. You aid my overall goals with your constant needling of Lindsay Troy but do not mistake that respect for a person you can walk all over. Do we understand one another?
Stanislav sets his jaw tightly while he listens to Rose, his eyes half lidded but heās listening. His breathing whistles through his nostrils.
Ivan Stanislav: You walk into -my- room, you think you can order -my- people about, you break -my- chair which, I am sure, was built by hard working proletarians I might add, and you threaten me?
He clicks his tongue and shakes his head.
Ivan Stanislav: I will respect your courage, which may border upon foolishness, but we will see. I have nothing to gain by wrecking your match later by putting you through that wall.
He nods towards the far wall.
Ivan Stanislav: And besides, I would much rather you make the Luchador bleed anyway. But you can be brave, Rose, and you can be confident, but just donāt be blind to what realities may still be standing over you, hm?
He points a huge finger down at her.
Ivan Stanislav: Maybe we get off on wrong foot, hm? Maybe that match, putting David and Arthur together, was just means for Lindsay Troy to try to get us to this point right now, eh? Little time for us to plan? Not much chance for us to coordinate? Meanwhile the other two are luchador who are already in sync. So, I tell you what, Rose: We start over, hm? What do you say?
Rose slowly nods her head.
Rose: Possibly, my anger got the better of me in the moment. That anger, though, is justified.
A smile creeps across her face.
Rose: Pleasantās actions were rather disappointing to me. To lose the match in that manner, when I thought he understood the importance of it, was infuriating, to say the least. I would ask that you deal with it. I view you as a leader and know you will do what is necessary.
She turns her head and looks at Alexei before looking back at Ivan.
Rose: Youāve got a lot to think about, Ivan. Big match tomorrow night. To send Lindsay home with disappointment for the holidays would mean something to me. I think you and I know quite well how manipulative Lindsay can be, so look out for whatever she has up her sleeve next. Iāve watched her from afar for most of my life, and I think you understand her as well as I do.
She then moves backward.
Rose: Iāve got a Luchador to handle. I donāt want to be put through a wall, at least not today. As you will notice, my team will listen to me. Maybe we can share leadership tips one day. Have fun with the Neck Collector.
Ivan nods his head slowly but doesnāt take his eyes off of Rose. He nods once and lets her exit. Alexei walks into the room, as does the rest of the Russians (and Speedy). He approaches Ivan and looks up at him.
Alexei Ruslan: The hell was that all about, Vanya?
Stanislav rubs his bristly beard and muses.
Ivan Stanislav: Now sure, Alexei, but it was interesting.
The two Russians exchange curious but intrigued glances while Arina shuts the door behind her.
Outside of the room, Noble glares at Rose, confused.
David Noble: Care to explain?
Rose: Iron sharpens iron. Now Iām ready for Tom.
David Noble: How so?
Rose: Get the adrenaline running a bit. When you stare down a Russian bear and donāt flinch, a mere man in a mask doesnāt seem quite so dangerous.
David chuckles and shakes his head.
David Noble: Ready?
Rose walks off, confident with each step. She spins around and continues walking backward, looking back at David.
Rose: Always.
We then cut to ringside.
The lights dim in the Superdome. A siren echoes across the stadium like a trumpet heralding the end times.
Whatās up, danger? (Danger)
Whatās up, danger? (Danger)
Then, āWhatās Up Dangerā by Black Caviar and Blackway plays throughout the Superdome.
Vince Howard: Introducing first, representing KING. She stands at five feet and ten inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-five pounds. Hailing from San Diego, Californiaā¦ she is THE SECOND COMING! ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSE!
Two thousand on thermometers
Two thousand surroundinā us
Travel two thousand kilometers to hang out with us
Whatās up, danger? (Danger)
Whatās up, danger? (Danger)
Rose emerges from the backstage area and the spotlight lands on her. She stands there, focused and determined, wearing a pair of black pants with ROSE painted on the sides in purple and a black sports bra. The fans in New Orleans immediately greet her with a chorus ofā¦
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
ā¦yep. She ignores them though, looking down the ramp at her destiny.
Ayy, didnāt know they doubted us
Makes it that more marvelous
Sign āem up, ācause ominous vibes and I get synonymous
Whatās up, danger?
Ayy, donāt be a stranger
She struts down the ramp, confident in herself, even as the fans yell at her. She blocks them out as she reaches the halfway mark of the entrance ramp before she explodes into a run and slides under the bottom rope. As she reaches the middle of the ring, she hops up to her feet and sprints to the opposite set of ropes before placing her right foot on the middle rope and her left foot on the bottom. She extends her right arm high as she screams into the void.
āCause I like high chances that I might lose (lose)
I like it all on the edge just like you, ayy
I like tall buildings so I can leap off of āem
I go hard witā it no matter how dark it is
She moves around the ring, shaking her head, and grinning like the Cheshire cat.
Iām insane but on my toes
I could keep the world balanced on my nose
I had a slumber party witā all my foes
Now I wear them like a badge of honor on my clothes
Rose reaches one of the corners and climbs up to the second turnbuckle, slamming her fist into her chest and raising both arms.
If Iām crazy, Iām on my own
If Iām waitinā, itās on my throne
If I sound lazy, just ignore my tone
āCause Iām always gonna answer when you call my phone
She hops off the middle turnbuckle, moves to the opposite set of ropes, and sits down on the floor, waiting for her opponent.
Like, whatās up, danger?
Like, whatās up, danger?
Donāt-donāt be a stranger
Whatās up, danger?
The music then fades as the fans await her opponent.
Nick Stuart: Rose, making her debut tonight.
Richard Parker: Yeah, against the most self-righteous asshole we have in PRIME and thatās saying something, because we have quite a few.
Nick Stuart: You donāt think sheās bitten off more than she can chew?
Richard Parker: Nah, not at all. Sheās got this in the bag.
Nick Stuart: At any rate, Rose is playing a skilled gambit here, leaving KING in the back. You gotta wonder if The Anglo Luchador saw this.
Richard Parker: Havenāt you been paying attention? Heās got his head up his ass.
Nick Stuart: Still, just because KINGās not down here now doesnāt mean they wonāt come down.
The lights in the Superdome shut off. A sea of fireflies, camera phones with their flashes on, engulfs the crowd as the initial trill of the piano on Mozartās āRondo Alla Turca,ā as performed by the Borusan Istanbul Philharmonic Orchestra, begins to play on the soundsystem.
A spotlight shines on the entryway under the PRIMEview where the Turkish flag is waving.
Richard Parker: Itās Eric Adamsā favorite wrestler!
Out from the curtain steps Captain Suleimon, in full Ottoman military regalia, boots, pants, jacket, and even a sash. Heās gotten on in years, but he still walks with the pride of an Empire behind him. The crowd gives him a surprisingly robust ovation, given he wasnāt exactly the most complimentary wrestler when he was active in PRIME. He takes in the reaction and then salutes before stepping aside.
Richard Parker: Either way, this proves everything right that KING said about the Luchador.
Nick Stuart: Iāve been keeping a log of two years of slander youāve thrown at him. I donāt wanna give it to him, but youāre being exceptionally mean.
Richard Parker: The truth hurts.
Mozart gives way to silence for a beat. Then the spotlight turns into a dazzling array of red, white, and blue lights. The opening guitar riff of āLexaproā by VOIID sounds on the PA and the crowd roars even louder. Out from the back steps Miranda DC, sporting a new look with a dyed red pixie cut, a singlet in the style of the Puerto Rican flag, and thigh-high Converse All-Stars with fishnets. The Puerto Rican flag is waving on the PRIMEView.
Then you tell me youāre too pretty, youāre too pretty to be sad.
And Iāll never write as good as him, 20 trips around the Sun.
To be just as good as him, whatās inside a woman (if Iām allowedā¦)
Sheās overcome by the moment as the fans cheer on the SHOOT Project Sin City Champion.
Her music dies down as white and gold lights begin to strobe around the arena. The heavy rhythmic pulsing of Warren Zevonās āJungle Workā echoes off the walls and roof of the massive arena, which can only herald the arrival of some SICK GAINZā¦
Richard Parker: Oh no, not this moronā¦
This moron is 330 pounds of pure muscle in a Goldās Gym A-shirt, a weight belt with the Colossus logo on it, form-fitting spandex shorts, kneepads, shitty little boots, and a scowl like someone told him spaghetti is better than chicken breast. The flag waving on the PRIMEView isā¦ well, itās just a piece of white cloth with an image of a canister of protein powder embroidered on it. Did he really spend money to get that flag made just for this entrance? Chick Grillbreast is many things, but smart is, well, Richard Parker said it best. Chick paces around on stage, screaming and grunting, excited to help his friend, the Puny Luchador. The fans go nuts for him as he psychs them up with each time he throws his arms into the air.
Finally, the stadium lights go dark again. Music swells up again, but this time, itās āO Fortunaā blasting through the PA system inspiring men and women alike to weep in its majesty.
First out of the back are The Beasts of Tokyo, Seiko Serizawa and HAMAYUMI bear the colors of Bolambaland, the same which are flying on the PRIMEView. The flag is simple; Itās the flag of the Commonwealth of Kentucky, only with the Number 3 Goodwrench car stitched on top of the state seal. Raise hell, praise Dale. They take their spot at the bottom of the ramp, flanking it on either side.
Next out are the Monster Menagerieās greenhorn, the horn part being literal, Shinji Komiya and a nameless avian, a mysterious birdman. Why are they not THE mysterious birdman? This question vexes many who watch BANG! They carry trumpets at their side, and take their places on either side of the ramp.
The next two out, well, three out are the Big Blue Bug, Rory Hayes, Hippo of the Deathmatch, and his faithful companion, which now has antlers, the Crimson Miracle Bloody Blood Death Homicycle. The two with arms have thuribles that are burning incense of unknown providence. Many in the front row will swear after the show that it was just tobacco, but I am humoring them.
Finally, Lord Kurosame-sama ambles out of the back, microphone in hand, raising his hand to stop the music and quiet the crowd.
Richard Parker: When will this lunacy end?
Nick Stuart: Iām not gonna lie, Richard, I love it. Itās pomp. Itās pageantry. Itās COLOSSUS!
Lord Kurosame-sama: SHARK! Shark shark shark SHARK shark shark. Sharksharkshark SHARK! Shark shark? SHARK! Shark shark, shark shark shark shark shark, āSHARK SHARK,ā SHARK SHARK-SHARK SHARK!!
Out from the back, with deliberate steps and military cadence, is the lanky adoptive nephew of the Anglo Luchador. Looking like a young Larry Bird in a uniform befitting a CIA-installed military dictator of some country in South America, The Generalissimo strides to the top of the stage. Garry Ray-Ray Nelson Bolamba scans the crowd and grabs the microphone from his shark second-in-command.
Garry Ray-Ray Nelson Bolamba: RAISE HELL!
The Superdome: PRAISE DALE!
Finally, the powerful orchestral rendition of āOā Fortunaā dies down. A wide shot of all the flags on their individual poles pans out to show the great landscape of Tenochtitlan, sitting on an island in the middle of pristine Lake Texcoco, Moctezumaās palace sprawling in the middle. Suddenly, the PA rocks to life with the jarring opening notes of Local H, āCynic,ā and the screen inverts color.
Richard Parker: I hope he feels silly.
Nick Stuart: Why would he? His friends are there, and for all we know, the presence of them and the Monster Menagerie is whatās keeping KING in the back.
Richard Parker: You dare accuse KING of cowardice?
Nick Stuart: They drugged The Anglo Luchador at Ultraviolence.
Richard Parker: But what have they done lately?
The Anglo Luchador, in a red and black rendition of his gear, steps out from the back, inhaling deep the air at the biggest show of the year. He takes his side beside his nephew, looks at him, and gives him a big bear hug, which the Slap Fighting Champion of Nelson County returns.
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH
The Luchador and the Generalissimo begin their march to the ring, followed by Lord Kurosame-sama and Captain Suleimon, and then Miranda DC and Chick Grillbreast pulling up the rear.
Vince Howard: And her opponent, weighing in at 211 pounds and hailing from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, he is the first Intense Champion of The ReVival, the son of the late Italian Stallion, Lorenzo Battaglia, and the Last Champion of Tenochtitlanā¦ he isā¦ THE ANGLOOOOOOOOOOOOā¦. LUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCHADOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH
The Luchador stops at the end of the ramp, gives his ānephewā another hug, turns to the ring, makes a sign of the cross and points to the sky, and then hops onto the apron.
Nick Stuart: Once again, condolences to the Luchadorās family. Lorenzo was one of my favorites growing up for sure.
Richard Parker: Yeah, itās sad. I feel bad for him. All the more reason why he should just go home to be with his family.
Lord Kurosame-sama makes his way to the announcers table and picks up a set of headphones. We here at PRIME are not entirely sure how a shark uses headphones, but for the sake of continuing this match without getting into a physiological debate on the nature of shark ears, weāre going to assume it works just as intended.
Nick Stuart: Oh, and we have a new voice at the table!
Lord Kurosame-sama: Shark!
Richard Parker: Uh, Shark to you too?
The Anglo Luchador steps through the ropes and locks eyes with Rose.
Elvis Nixon, whose hands are covered in white latex gloves for this fight, signals for the bell.
DING DING
Nick Stuart: Thatās it, we are underway!
Richard Parker: Rose looks to be nonplussed about the big show by The Anglo Luchador.
Lord Kurosame-sama: Shark.
She shakes her head and laughs at the ridiculous posse he has put together and then holds out her arms. A microphone catches her mocking TAL above the crowd.
Rose: Really? All this for me? Couldnāt you do it yourself?
The Anglo Luchador seems annoyed that he was tricked and initiates a collar and elbow. Rose is immediately bowled back into the corner and TAL lets her go, turning his back on her and walking away, brushing his hands together.
She looks around and sees red. She charges out of the corner and tries a leaping forearm only for TAL to turn, hook her arm and fling her across the ring with an arm drag. The luchador follows up with a quick grapple that sees him press his skill and size once again, shoving Rose into the corner.
Nick Stuart: The early goings seem to indicate that Rose might have made a mistake leaving her support backstage.
Richard Parker: Iām trying to figure out the logic, but I think it has to be some sort of mental gamesmanship. The problem is, she needs every advantage she can get even against a n old beat up dog like TAL.
Lord Kurosame-sama: Shark. Shark.
Nick Stuart: Thatās a fine observation!
TAL opens up with a few hard knees and uncharacteristically leaps onto the second rope to rain down shots onto Rose. He holds up his fist and starts hammering away, blowing past ten as Elvis Nixon watches, unable to stop him from continuing the pummeling.
Finally, he hops down and Rose falls to the ground face first. She rolls out of the ring and onto the floor where she can be seen by eagle eyed fans talking to herself.
Nick Stuart: I wonder what she is saying?
Lord Kurosame-sama: Shark.
Richard Parker: I think youāre right, Lord K. She does seem to be psyching herself up to get back into the fight.
Meanwhile, TALās entourage mills around the ring like a pack of hungry sharks, well, all of them except the actual shark, which is still sitting at the announcers table.
Chick Grillbreast mugs for the fans and flexes his ample biceps, and Miranda shouts to Tom and encourages him to grab a weapon.
The Luchador listens and gestures to his team on the outside of the ring. Suleimon flips up the apron to the delight of the fans. He emerges with a swā¦no not a sword, a different SW word, a switch. Well, the long wooden dowel he has found sure resembles one anyhow. As he slides the dowel into the ring, Rose also slides in just in time to see TAL pick up the wooden stick and head her direction.
Nick Stuart: No doubt TAL is looking for some retribution and maybe to teach Rose some manners!
Lord Kurosame-sama: SHARK.
Nick Stuart: Well, I agree that we shouldnāt resort to corporal punishment in the household but this is different.
Richard Parker: Will you two pay attention? That luchador has lost it!
TAL whips the dowel and the snapping sound echoes through the arena followed by an OOOOOH from the PRIME faithful. The ringside seats get a picturesque view of Roseās agony as TAL hits her again with the dowel.
Already there are welts forming on her arm and her back.
WHACK!
WHACK!
WHACK!
CRACK!
The dowel snaps in half and Tom jumps on the smaller foe, digging the sharp broken end into her forehead. Try as he might though, he canāt get the jagged wood to bite and in desperation, Rose elbows The Luchador straight in the huevos.
Lord Kurosame-sama: SHARKS!
Nick Stuart: That will slow anyone down!
Richard Parker: Go after him, Rose!
Roseās demeanor changes and she sweeps TALās legs out from under him with a deft kick and follows up by running to the ropes and leaping. She lands on the second rope and backflips off, landing a moonsault! She immediately goes for the cover only to look up at Elvis Nixon, who reminds her this is not a traditional match.
Rose curses herself when TAL kicks out and rolls out of the ring to regroup. Surrounded by his team she doesnāt dare to follow as Garry Ray-Ray Bolamba holds up a cast iron frying pan of a hand to challenge her. The Anglo Luchador reaches under the ring curtain once again and starts rifling items out to Captain Suleimon. The Old Turk slides a chair into the ring followed by a couple kendo sticks, a roll of gafferās tape, and a pair of handcuffs.
Nick Stuart: Rose looks a little out of her depth here. Remember that The Anglo Luchador is a veteran of these blood and guts battles.
Richard Parker: Thatās right! He has faced down Paxton Ray, Balaam, Arthur Pleasant, and a literal whoās who of opponents with terrible intentions.
Lord Kurosame-sama: Shark?
Nick Stuart: Balaam. He was a gigantic man-puppet with a magic mask.
Lord Kurosame-sama: Shark.
Nick Stuart: I donāt understand how it works either.
Richard Parker: Thatās the power of HOYT! baby!
Rose wastes no time in grabbing the chair and as TAL tries to roll into the ring, she is quick to equalize the playing field and hit him across the back. He tries to get to his feet, but the young competitor drives home another shot across the shoulders and knocks the Luchador back to the mat.
She waits for TAL to get to his feet and throws the chair at him. He instinctively catches it, and as he does she leaps and kicks it directly in his face with a Van Daminator!
THWACK!
Lord Kurosame-sama: SHARK!!!
Nick Stuart: I agree! That mask might have been the only thing that saved him from being busted open!
Richard Parker: Damned cheating Luchador!
Tom drops to the mat and this time Rose is on top of him, dropping elbows to try and cut him open. Miranda looks on, concerned, while Chick looks like he is possibly constipated or just in a rage over a fan asking him about artificial gainz.
The Anglo Luchador weathers the storm and manages to catch one of Roseās arms as it rains down on him. He moves quick as ever and pulls the handcuffs out from under his back. He slaps one onto Roseās wrist and twists, pulling her with and locking the other side to the middle rope.
When the handcuffs are locked on, David Noble steps out from the back with a concerned look on his face.
Lord Kurosame-sama: SHARK SHARK SHARK!
Garry Ray-Ray Bolamba sees David Noble and, like Gandalf the White leading the Rohirrim down the hill of Helms Deep to save Aragorn and King Thoeden, Garry charges toward the remaining members of KING followed by Captain Suleimon, Chick Grillbreast, Miranda DC, and Lord Kursame-sama (who yelled something shark related that nobody was able to decipher.)
The entire menagerie thunders up the ramp and TAL walks to the ropes holding up his hands in disbelief as they disappear behind the curtain.
Little does he know that Rose is double jointed in the thumbs and while TAL had her locked in, he isnāt a professional and left her enough room to slide her hand out.
Nick Stuart: Look at that! Rose is using her size to her advantage!
Richard Parker: Thatās what The Anglo Luchador gets for trusting his security to a bunch of idiots. And Generalissimo Bolamba, of course.
Rose looks on the ground and picks up both Kendo sticks. The crowd begins to buzz and yell āTURN AROUNDā to the oblivious Luchador. Rose lays into him, swinging one after another, leaving scarlet red welts on TALās arms and midsection.
Tom covers up even as the rain of bamboo is leaving marks all over his body. He looks for an answer and finds it in his experience. As she comes down with the Kendo sticks, he reaches up and grabs both of her hands. TAL cocks back and headbutts her so hard she drops straight to her ass.
The old technico stumbles backwards and falls to the mat himself. Elvis Nixon leaps in, rubbing his hands with the white latex gloves on TALās welts to make sure none of them have broken open, but for now it is just pain that he has to contend with. TAL rolls under the bottom rope and hits the ground outside the ring with a loud flop.
Nick Stuart: That move might have taken as much as out TAL as it did Rose!
Rose sits, stunned for a moment, but recovers much faster than her older opponent. As he is slowly getting to his feet, she gauges the distance and bolts across the rings, leaping over the top rope with a twisting plancha!
Both competitors crash to the ground and itās Rose that is fired up now! She grabs TAL and drags him to the barricade to parade him around in front of the fans he loves so much before smashing his face into the barricade one, two, three times!
Elvis Nixon is keenly watching the action, checking the railing, but still there is no blood! As Rose presses the attack and picks her opponent up to Irish Whip him into the ring steps, TAL reverses the whip and sends Rose careening into the steps with a booming calamity. She groans and arches her back on the ground while TAL pulls something else out from under the ringā¦
The fans cheer as TAL rolls back into the ring and holds up a burlap sack. He turns it over and hundreds, maybe thousands of tiny silver pieces of metal spread all over the mat.
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Nick Stuart: WE GOT THUMBTACKS!
Tom seems to have a great idea and he takes the gafferās tape and wraps it, backward, around a Kendo stick. He then kneels down and rolls it in the thumbtacks, sticking hundreds of tacks to the tape.
Richard Parker: Itās like a really violent pastry rolled in sprinkles!
Rose finally gets to her feet and rolls into the ring, but she isnāt alone!
Nick Stuart: Rose has a chain wrapped around her hand! We have TAL with a thumbtack Kendo stick and Rose with a chainā¦ someone is going to start bleeding pretty soon!
Richard Parker: Well, that is the name of the game in this match, isnāt it?
Nick Stuart: Damn right!
The Anglo Luchador charges forward and takes a big swing, but misses. Rose counters and barely misses her own shot. TAL swings right at her head with a downward motion, but Rose uses the length of chain to stop the stick and quickly wraps her chain around it to wrench it free from TALās grip like a peasant using a Kusarigama to disarm a Samurai, or perhaps The Son of a Shogun.
TAL looks bewildered by her quick thinking and before he knows what hit him, she shoots on him and is in his guard. She slams the chain toward him over and over, but he moves out of the way causing Rose to tear the canvas where TALās head should have been.
Finally one of her blows finds him and tears a gouge through his mask! Elvis Nixon circles like a hawk and quickly swipes his hand across the mask but it comes up clean!
Richard Parker: Iām telling you, Rose would have had this thing won several times if it werenāt for that cheating Luchador and his mask!
Rose cannot believe it and the split second that it takes while she relents her attack, TAL reaches out and grabs a handful of tacks from the mat and flings them at her face.
Rose screams as one of the tack points hits her in the eye and she rolls off the Luchador. Tom stands up and reaches up to feel a tuft of hair sticking out of his mask. He realizes just how close he was to losing and decides enough is enough.
He finds the chair and sets it up in the center of the ring and turns to see Rose on the ground still clutching at her eye. Reaching down and hooking her around the waist, the much larger Luchador grunts and lifts Rose into the air with a mighty heave, then turns, dropping her into a Karelin Driver through the chair!
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!Ā
Nick Stuart: Holy cow! The chair has completely buckled! Rose might be out!
TAL rolls out of the way and Elvis Nixon circles in looking Rose over. The referee spots something that the fans canāt see with Rose laying face down and runs his hand across her forehead. He suddenly turns and motions for the bell and lifts his hand up revealing red!
DING DING DINGĀ
Vince Howard: The winner of this matchā¦ THE ANGLOOOOOOO LUUUUUUCHADOOOOOR!
Nick Stuart: What a battle!
Richard Parker: That damn Luchador and his mask! We should ban masks and maybe we could get rid of all the do-gooders in one shot!
TAL holds his side with one hand and Elvis Nixon holds the other in the air.
Nick Stuart: LOOK OUT!
Rose stands up, her face crimson and takes a cheap shot from behind with the chain. TAL goes down hard and she is on top of him, pummeling him with the chain until she turns around and smiles as she catches sight of something in the ring.
She lifts TAL to his feet and leaps up, performing a standing Hurricanrana that throws the wounded Luchador across the ring landing right in the middle of the pile of thumbtacks. He bucks and convulses on the ground screaming in agony as a thousand pinpricks of blood already form on his arms and his exposed back.
Nick Stuart: Somebody stop this!
The ring keeper rings the bell repeatedly while Elvis Nixon tries to ward off Rose. She unwraps several links of the chain from her hand and is just about to start whipping TAL when the crowd erupts and Garry Ray-Ray Bolamba, Chick, Miranda, and Captain Suleimon rush the ring once again.
Rose rolls out and stands outside staring daggers through The Anglo Luchador before she hops onto a chair and wipes the blood from her face. She holds her arms out with the chain in one hand, and blood in the other while a fresh trickle rolls down her forehead leaving her devilish white teeth exposed in a smile.
She winks and jumps into the crowd, disappearing into the mass of humanity while TAL gets to his feet and āCynicā by Local H plays in the arena. He lifts an arm studded with thumbtacks and grimaces while his friends help him out of the ring and to the back.
Nick Stuart: Well that was one hell of a match I donāt think either competitor will be forgetting any time soon!
Richard Parker: I think my favorite part was the very end. After the bell. Seeing that damned Luchador hit those thumbtacks is a moment that will live on in my brain forever.
Nick Stuart: Well, immortal moment or not, we have to move on, but first, a word from our sponsors.
We then cut to commercial.
The lights dim in the Superdome. A siren echoes across the stadium like a trumpet heralding the end times.
Whatās up, danger? (Danger)
Whatās up, danger? (Danger)
Then, āWhatās Up Dangerā by Black Caviar and Blackway plays throughout the Superdome.
Vince Howard: Introducing first, representing KING. She stands at five feet and ten inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-five pounds. Hailing from San Diego, Californiaā¦ she is THE SECOND COMING! ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSE!
Two thousand on thermometers
Two thousand surroundinā us
Travel two thousand kilometers to hang out with us
Whatās up, danger? (Danger)
Whatās up, danger? (Danger)
Rose emerges from the backstage area and the spotlight lands on her. She stands there, focused and determined, wearing a pair of black pants with ROSE painted on the sides in purple and a black sports bra. The fans in New Orleans immediately greet her with a chorus ofā¦
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
ā¦yep. She ignores them though, looking down the ramp at her destiny.
Ayy, didnāt know they doubted us
Makes it that more marvelous
Sign āem up, ācause ominous vibes and I get synonymous
Whatās up, danger?
Ayy, donāt be a stranger
She struts down the ramp, confident in herself, even as the fans yell at her. She blocks them out as she reaches the halfway mark of the entrance ramp before she explodes into a run and slides under the bottom rope. As she reaches the middle of the ring, she hops up to her feet and sprints to the opposite set of ropes before placing her right foot on the middle rope and her left foot on the bottom. She extends her right arm high as she screams into the void.
āCause I like high chances that I might lose (lose)
I like it all on the edge just like you, ayy
I like tall buildings so I can leap off of āem
I go hard witā it no matter how dark it is
She moves around the ring, shaking her head, and grinning like the Cheshire cat.
Iām insane but on my toes
I could keep the world balanced on my nose
I had a slumber party witā all my foes
Now I wear them like a badge of honor on my clothes
Rose reaches one of the corners and climbs up to the second turnbuckle, slamming her fist into her chest and raising both arms.
If Iām crazy, Iām on my own
If Iām waitinā, itās on my throne
If I sound lazy, just ignore my tone
āCause Iām always gonna answer when you call my phone
She hops off the middle turnbuckle, moves to the opposite set of ropes, and sits down on the floor, waiting for her opponent.
Like, whatās up, danger?
Like, whatās up, danger?
Donāt-donāt be a stranger
Whatās up, danger?
The music then fades as the fans await her opponent.
Nick Stuart: Rose, making her debut tonight.
Richard Parker: Yeah, against the most self-righteous asshole we have in PRIME and thatās saying something, because we have quite a few.
Nick Stuart: You donāt think sheās bitten off more than she can chew?
Richard Parker: Nah, not at all. Sheās got this in the bag.
Nick Stuart: At any rate, Rose is playing a skilled gambit here, leaving KING in the back. You gotta wonder if The Anglo Luchador saw this.
Richard Parker: Havenāt you been paying attention? Heās got his head up his ass.
Nick Stuart: Still, just because KINGās not down here now doesnāt mean they wonāt come down.
The lights in the Superdome shut off. A sea of fireflies, camera phones with their flashes on, engulfs the crowd as the initial trill of the piano on Mozartās āRondo Alla Turca,ā as performed by the Borusan Istanbul Philharmonic Orchestra, begins to play on the soundsystem.
A spotlight shines on the entryway under the PRIMEview where the Turkish flag is waving.
Richard Parker: Itās Eric Adamsā favorite wrestler!
Out from the curtain steps Captain Suleimon, in full Ottoman military regalia, boots, pants, jacket, and even a sash. Heās gotten on in years, but he still walks with the pride of an Empire behind him. The crowd gives him a surprisingly robust ovation, given he wasnāt exactly the most complimentary wrestler when he was active in PRIME. He takes in the reaction and then salutes before stepping aside.
Richard Parker: Either way, this proves everything right that KING said about the Luchador.
Nick Stuart: Iāve been keeping a log of two years of slander youāve thrown at him. I donāt wanna give it to him, but youāre being exceptionally mean.
Richard Parker: The truth hurts.
Mozart gives way to silence for a beat. Then the spotlight turns into a dazzling array of red, white, and blue lights. The opening guitar riff of āLexaproā by VOIID sounds on the PA and the crowd roars even louder. Out from the back steps Miranda DC, sporting a new look with a dyed red pixie cut, a singlet in the style of the Puerto Rican flag, and thigh-high Converse All-Stars with fishnets. The Puerto Rican flag is waving on the PRIMEView.
Then you tell me youāre too pretty, youāre too pretty to be sad.
And Iāll never write as good as him, 20 trips around the Sun.
To be just as good as him, whatās inside a woman (if Iām allowedā¦)
Sheās overcome by the moment as the fans cheer on the SHOOT Project Sin City Champion.
Her music dies down as white and gold lights begin to strobe around the arena. The heavy rhythmic pulsing of Warren Zevonās āJungle Workā echoes off the walls and roof of the massive arena, which can only herald the arrival of some SICK GAINZā¦
Richard Parker: Oh no, not this moronā¦
This moron is 330 pounds of pure muscle in a Goldās Gym A-shirt, a weight belt with the Colossus logo on it, form-fitting spandex shorts, kneepads, shitty little boots, and a scowl like someone told him spaghetti is better than chicken breast. The flag waving on the PRIMEView isā¦ well, itās just a piece of white cloth with an image of a canister of protein powder embroidered on it. Did he really spend money to get that flag made just for this entrance? Chick Grillbreast is many things, but smart is, well, Richard Parker said it best. Chick paces around on stage, screaming and grunting, excited to help his friend, the Puny Luchador. The fans go nuts for him as he psychs them up with each time he throws his arms into the air.
Finally, the stadium lights go dark again. Music swells up again, but this time, itās āO Fortunaā blasting through the PA system inspiring men and women alike to weep in its majesty.
First out of the back are The Beasts of Tokyo, Seiko Serizawa and HAMAYUMI bear the colors of Bolambaland, the same which are flying on the PRIMEView. The flag is simple; Itās the flag of the Commonwealth of Kentucky, only with the Number 3 Goodwrench car stitched on top of the state seal. Raise hell, praise Dale. They take their spot at the bottom of the ramp, flanking it on either side.
Next out are the Monster Menagerieās greenhorn, the horn part being literal, Shinji Komiya and a nameless avian, a mysterious birdman. Why are they not THE mysterious birdman? This question vexes many who watch BANG! They carry trumpets at their side, and take their places on either side of the ramp.
The next two out, well, three out are the Big Blue Bug, Rory Hayes, Hippo of the Deathmatch, and his faithful companion, which now has antlers, the Crimson Miracle Bloody Blood Death Homicycle. The two with arms have thuribles that are burning incense of unknown providence. Many in the front row will swear after the show that it was just tobacco, but I am humoring them.
Finally, Lord Kurosame-sama ambles out of the back, microphone in hand, raising his hand to stop the music and quiet the crowd.
Richard Parker: When will this lunacy end?
Nick Stuart: Iām not gonna lie, Richard, I love it. Itās pomp. Itās pageantry. Itās COLOSSUS!
Lord Kurosame-sama: SHARK! Shark shark shark SHARK shark shark. Sharksharkshark SHARK! Shark shark? SHARK! Shark shark, shark shark shark shark shark, āSHARK SHARK,ā SHARK SHARK-SHARK SHARK!!
Out from the back, with deliberate steps and military cadence, is the lanky adoptive nephew of the Anglo Luchador. Looking like a young Larry Bird in a uniform befitting a CIA-installed military dictator of some country in South America, The Generalissimo strides to the top of the stage. Garry Ray-Ray Nelson Bolamba scans the crowd and grabs the microphone from his shark second-in-command.
Garry Ray-Ray Nelson Bolamba: RAISE HELL!
The Superdome: PRAISE DALE!
Finally, the powerful orchestral rendition of āOā Fortunaā dies down. A wide shot of all the flags on their individual poles pans out to show the great landscape of Tenochtitlan, sitting on an island in the middle of pristine Lake Texcoco, Moctezumaās palace sprawling in the middle. Suddenly, the PA rocks to life with the jarring opening notes of Local H, āCynic,ā and the screen inverts color.
Richard Parker: I hope he feels silly.
Nick Stuart: Why would he? His friends are there, and for all we know, the presence of them and the Monster Menagerie is whatās keeping KING in the back.
Richard Parker: You dare accuse KING of cowardice?
Nick Stuart: They drugged The Anglo Luchador at Ultraviolence.
Richard Parker: But what have they done lately?
The Anglo Luchador, in a red and black rendition of his gear, steps out from the back, inhaling deep the air at the biggest show of the year. He takes his side beside his nephew, looks at him, and gives him a big bear hug, which the Slap Fighting Champion of Nelson County returns.
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH
The Luchador and the Generalissimo begin their march to the ring, followed by Lord Kurosame-sama and Captain Suleimon, and then Miranda DC and Chick Grillbreast pulling up the rear.
Vince Howard: And her opponent, weighing in at 211 pounds and hailing from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, he is the first Intense Champion of The ReVival, the son of the late Italian Stallion, Lorenzo Battaglia, and the Last Champion of Tenochtitlanā¦ he isā¦ THE ANGLOOOOOOOOOOOOā¦. LUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCHADOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH
The Luchador stops at the end of the ramp, gives his ānephewā another hug, turns to the ring, makes a sign of the cross and points to the sky, and then hops onto the apron.
Nick Stuart: Once again, condolences to the Luchadorās family. Lorenzo was one of my favorites growing up for sure.
Richard Parker: Yeah, itās sad. I feel bad for him. All the more reason why he should just go home to be with his family.
Lord Kurosame-sama makes his way to the announcers table and picks up a set of headphones. We here at PRIME are not entirely sure how a shark uses headphones, but for the sake of continuing this match without getting into a physiological debate on the nature of shark ears, weāre going to assume it works just as intended.
Nick Stuart: Oh, and we have a new voice at the table!
Lord Kurosame-sama: Shark!
Richard Parker: Uh, Shark to you too?
The Anglo Luchador steps through the ropes and locks eyes with Rose.
Elvis Nixon, whose hands are covered in white latex gloves for this fight, signals for the bell.
DING DING
Nick Stuart: Thatās it, we are underway!
Richard Parker: Rose looks to be nonplussed about the big show by The Anglo Luchador.
Lord Kurosame-sama: Shark.
She shakes her head and laughs at the ridiculous posse he has put together and then holds out her arms. A microphone catches her mocking TAL above the crowd.
Rose: Really? All this for me? Couldnāt you do it yourself?
The Anglo Luchador seems annoyed that he was tricked and initiates a collar and elbow. Rose is immediately bowled back into the corner and TAL lets her go, turning his back on her and walking away, brushing his hands together.
She looks around and sees red. She charges out of the corner and tries a leaping forearm only for TAL to turn, hook her arm and fling her across the ring with an arm drag. The luchador follows up with a quick grapple that sees him press his skill and size once again, shoving Rose into the corner.
Nick Stuart: The early goings seem to indicate that Rose might have made a mistake leaving her support backstage.
Richard Parker: Iām trying to figure out the logic, but I think it has to be some sort of mental gamesmanship. The problem is, she needs every advantage she can get even against a n old beat up dog like TAL.
Lord Kurosame-sama: Shark. Shark.
Nick Stuart: Thatās a fine observation!
TAL opens up with a few hard knees and uncharacteristically leaps onto the second rope to rain down shots onto Rose. He holds up his fist and starts hammering away, blowing past ten as Elvis Nixon watches, unable to stop him from continuing the pummeling.
Finally, he hops down and Rose falls to the ground face first. She rolls out of the ring and onto the floor where she can be seen by eagle eyed fans talking to herself.
Nick Stuart: I wonder what she is saying?
Lord Kurosame-sama: Shark.
Richard Parker: I think youāre right, Lord K. She does seem to be psyching herself up to get back into the fight.
Meanwhile, TALās entourage mills around the ring like a pack of hungry sharks, well, all of them except the actual shark, which is still sitting at the announcers table.
Chick Grillbreast mugs for the fans and flexes his ample biceps, and Miranda shouts to Tom and encourages him to grab a weapon.
The Luchador listens and gestures to his team on the outside of the ring. Suleimon flips up the apron to the delight of the fans. He emerges with a swā¦no not a sword, a different SW word, a switch. Well, the long wooden dowel he has found sure resembles one anyhow. As he slides the dowel into the ring, Rose also slides in just in time to see TAL pick up the wooden stick and head her direction.
Nick Stuart: No doubt TAL is looking for some retribution and maybe to teach Rose some manners!
Lord Kurosame-sama: SHARK.
Nick Stuart: Well, I agree that we shouldnāt resort to corporal punishment in the household but this is different.
Richard Parker: Will you two pay attention? That luchador has lost it!
TAL whips the dowel and the snapping sound echoes through the arena followed by an OOOOOH from the PRIME faithful. The ringside seats get a picturesque view of Roseās agony as TAL hits her again with the dowel.
Already there are welts forming on her arm and her back.
WHACK!
WHACK!
WHACK!
CRACK!
The dowel snaps in half and Tom jumps on the smaller foe, digging the sharp broken end into her forehead. Try as he might though, he canāt get the jagged wood to bite and in desperation, Rose elbows The Luchador straight in the huevos.
Lord Kurosame-sama: SHARKS!
Nick Stuart: That will slow anyone down!
Richard Parker: Go after him, Rose!
Roseās demeanor changes and she sweeps TALās legs out from under him with a deft kick and follows up by running to the ropes and leaping. She lands on the second rope and backflips off, landing a moonsault! She immediately goes for the cover only to look up at Elvis Nixon, who reminds her this is not a traditional match.
Rose curses herself when TAL kicks out and rolls out of the ring to regroup. Surrounded by his team she doesnāt dare to follow as Garry Ray-Ray Bolamba holds up a cast iron frying pan of a hand to challenge her. The Anglo Luchador reaches under the ring curtain once again and starts rifling items out to Captain Suleimon. The Old Turk slides a chair into the ring followed by a couple kendo sticks, a roll of gafferās tape, and a pair of handcuffs.
Nick Stuart: Rose looks a little out of her depth here. Remember that The Anglo Luchador is a veteran of these blood and guts battles.
Richard Parker: Thatās right! He has faced down Paxton Ray, Balaam, Arthur Pleasant, and a literal whoās who of opponents with terrible intentions.
Lord Kurosame-sama: Shark?
Nick Stuart: Balaam. He was a gigantic man-puppet with a magic mask.
Lord Kurosame-sama: Shark.
Nick Stuart: I donāt understand how it works either.
Richard Parker: Thatās the power of HOYT! baby!
Rose wastes no time in grabbing the chair and as TAL tries to roll into the ring, she is quick to equalize the playing field and hit him across the back. He tries to get to his feet, but the young competitor drives home another shot across the shoulders and knocks the Luchador back to the mat.
She waits for TAL to get to his feet and throws the chair at him. He instinctively catches it, and as he does she leaps and kicks it directly in his face with a Van Daminator!
THWACK!
Lord Kurosame-sama: SHARK!!!
Nick Stuart: I agree! That mask might have been the only thing that saved him from being busted open!
Richard Parker: Damned cheating Luchador!
Tom drops to the mat and this time Rose is on top of him, dropping elbows to try and cut him open. Miranda looks on, concerned, while Chick looks like he is possibly constipated or just in a rage over a fan asking him about artificial gainz.
The Anglo Luchador weathers the storm and manages to catch one of Roseās arms as it rains down on him. He moves quick as ever and pulls the handcuffs out from under his back. He slaps one onto Roseās wrist and twists, pulling her with and locking the other side to the middle rope.
When the handcuffs are locked on, David Noble steps out from the back with a concerned look on his face.
Lord Kurosame-sama: SHARK SHARK SHARK!
Garry Ray-Ray Bolamba sees David Noble and, like Gandalf the White leading the Rohirrim down the hill of Helms Deep to save Aragorn and King Thoeden, Garry charges toward the remaining members of KING followed by Captain Suleimon, Chick Grillbreast, Miranda DC, and Lord Kursame-sama (who yelled something shark related that nobody was able to decipher.)
The entire menagerie thunders up the ramp and TAL walks to the ropes holding up his hands in disbelief as they disappear behind the curtain.
Little does he know that Rose is double jointed in the thumbs and while TAL had her locked in, he isnāt a professional and left her enough room to slide her hand out.
Nick Stuart: Look at that! Rose is using her size to her advantage!
Richard Parker: Thatās what The Anglo Luchador gets for trusting his security to a bunch of idiots. And Generalissimo Bolamba, of course.
Rose looks on the ground and picks up both Kendo sticks. The crowd begins to buzz and yell āTURN AROUNDā to the oblivious Luchador. Rose lays into him, swinging one after another, leaving scarlet red welts on TALās arms and midsection.
Tom covers up even as the rain of bamboo is leaving marks all over his body. He looks for an answer and finds it in his experience. As she comes down with the Kendo sticks, he reaches up and grabs both of her hands. TAL cocks back and headbutts her so hard she drops straight to her ass.
The old technico stumbles backwards and falls to the mat himself. Elvis Nixon leaps in, rubbing his hands with the white latex gloves on TALās welts to make sure none of them have broken open, but for now it is just pain that he has to contend with. TAL rolls under the bottom rope and hits the ground outside the ring with a loud flop.
Nick Stuart: That move might have taken as much as out TAL as it did Rose!
Rose sits, stunned for a moment, but recovers much faster than her older opponent. As he is slowly getting to his feet, she gauges the distance and bolts across the rings, leaping over the top rope with a twisting plancha!
Both competitors crash to the ground and itās Rose that is fired up now! She grabs TAL and drags him to the barricade to parade him around in front of the fans he loves so much before smashing his face into the barricade one, two, three times!
Elvis Nixon is keenly watching the action, checking the railing, but still there is no blood! As Rose presses the attack and picks her opponent up to Irish Whip him into the ring steps, TAL reverses the whip and sends Rose careening into the steps with a booming calamity. She groans and arches her back on the ground while TAL pulls something else out from under the ringā¦
The fans cheer as TAL rolls back into the ring and holds up a burlap sack. He turns it over and hundreds, maybe thousands of tiny silver pieces of metal spread all over the mat.
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Nick Stuart: WE GOT THUMBTACKS!
Tom seems to have a great idea and he takes the gafferās tape and wraps it, backward, around a Kendo stick. He then kneels down and rolls it in the thumbtacks, sticking hundreds of tacks to the tape.
Richard Parker: Itās like a really violent pastry rolled in sprinkles!
Rose finally gets to her feet and rolls into the ring, but she isnāt alone!
Nick Stuart: Rose has a chain wrapped around her hand! We have TAL with a thumbtack Kendo stick and Rose with a chainā¦ someone is going to start bleeding pretty soon!
Richard Parker: Well, that is the name of the game in this match, isnāt it?
Nick Stuart: Damn right!
The Anglo Luchador charges forward and takes a big swing, but misses. Rose counters and barely misses her own shot. TAL swings right at her head with a downward motion, but Rose uses the length of chain to stop the stick and quickly wraps her chain around it to wrench it free from TALās grip like a peasant using a Kusarigama to disarm a Samurai, or perhaps The Son of a Shogun.
TAL looks bewildered by her quick thinking and before he knows what hit him, she shoots on him and is in his guard. She slams the chain toward him over and over, but he moves out of the way causing Rose to tear the canvas where TALās head should have been.
Finally one of her blows finds him and tears a gouge through his mask! Elvis Nixon circles like a hawk and quickly swipes his hand across the mask but it comes up clean!
Richard Parker: Iām telling you, Rose would have had this thing won several times if it werenāt for that cheating Luchador and his mask!
Rose cannot believe it and the split second that it takes while she relents her attack, TAL reaches out and grabs a handful of tacks from the mat and flings them at her face.
Rose screams as one of the tack points hits her in the eye and she rolls off the Luchador. Tom stands up and reaches up to feel a tuft of hair sticking out of his mask. He realizes just how close he was to losing and decides enough is enough.
He finds the chair and sets it up in the center of the ring and turns to see Rose on the ground still clutching at her eye. Reaching down and hooking her around the waist, the much larger Luchador grunts and lifts Rose into the air with a mighty heave, then turns, dropping her into a Karelin Driver through the chair!
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!Ā
Nick Stuart: Holy cow! The chair has completely buckled! Rose might be out!
TAL rolls out of the way and Elvis Nixon circles in looking Rose over. The referee spots something that the fans canāt see with Rose laying face down and runs his hand across her forehead. He suddenly turns and motions for the bell and lifts his hand up revealing red!
DING DING DINGĀ
Vince Howard: The winner of this matchā¦ THE ANGLOOOOOOO LUUUUUUCHADOOOOOR!
Nick Stuart: What a battle!
Richard Parker: That damn Luchador and his mask! We should ban masks and maybe we could get rid of all the do-gooders in one shot!
TAL holds his side with one hand and Elvis Nixon holds the other in the air.
Nick Stuart: LOOK OUT!
Rose stands up, her face crimson and takes a cheap shot from behind with the chain. TAL goes down hard and she is on top of him, pummeling him with the chain until she turns around and smiles as she catches sight of something in the ring.
She lifts TAL to his feet and leaps up, performing a standing Hurricanrana that throws the wounded Luchador across the ring landing right in the middle of the pile of thumbtacks. He bucks and convulses on the ground screaming in agony as a thousand pinpricks of blood already form on his arms and his exposed back.
Nick Stuart: Somebody stop this!
The ring keeper rings the bell repeatedly while Elvis Nixon tries to ward off Rose. She unwraps several links of the chain from her hand and is just about to start whipping TAL when the crowd erupts and Garry Ray-Ray Bolamba, Chick, Miranda, and Captain Suleimon rush the ring once again.
Rose rolls out and stands outside staring daggers through The Anglo Luchador before she hops onto a chair and wipes the blood from her face. She holds her arms out with the chain in one hand, and blood in the other while a fresh trickle rolls down her forehead leaving her devilish white teeth exposed in a smile.
She winks and jumps into the crowd, disappearing into the mass of humanity while TAL gets to his feet and āCynicā by Local H plays in the arena. He lifts an arm studded with thumbtacks and grimaces while his friends help him out of the ring and to the back.
Nick Stuart: Well that was one hell of a match I donāt think either competitor will be forgetting any time soon!
Richard Parker: I think my favorite part was the very end. After the bell. Seeing that damned Luchador hit those thumbtacks is a moment that will live on in my brain forever.
Nick Stuart: Well, immortal moment or not, we have to move on, but first, a word from our sponsors.
We then cut to commercial.
We return from commercial to find Rob Williams storming through the innards of the Superdome. He is frantic, eyes bulging out of his head and moving extremely well for a 44 year old who just went up against such an electric opponent.
The Father: Do you smell him? His stink?
Of course Rob does. Itās all he can smell. It started the moment Rob arrived at the building. While his earlier match was a welcome distraction, it has returned, dissipating but still a trail of breadcrumbs. But to what?
Rob: What is that?
The Father: The stench of a charlatan. A deceiver. You have served well tonight, Rob. Now it is time to be clean of this stink. Find the false prophet.
A stagehand walks past Rob and Rob grabs him, pushing him against the wall.
Rob: Do you fucking smell it?
Stagehand: Wha..what are you talking about?
Rob: Where is it coming from? God, itās disgusting. Iām sick to my stomach.
Stagehand: I donāt smell anything, sir.
Rob drops the man and continues through the hallways. He is an animal. Possessed. Wild eyes and tense muscles like a dog who has whiffed a hare. The camera follows Rob at a safe distance as he comes upon the locker rooms. All the while Rob has his head cocked back, sniffing at the air.
The Father: āBut a prophet who presumes to speak in my name anything I have not commanded, or a prophet who speaks in the name of other gods, is to be put to death.ā Find him, Rob. The ground he has walked still bares his warmth.
Through gritted teeth Rob plants his face to the first door he comes to, trying to draw in the scents from the jamb. No, not here, he shakes his head and backs away. He repeats this on multiple doors before coming to a door that seems ripe with the musk of whoever he is seeking. His lips quiver as he sucks in a big breath, stepping back.
Rob: Knock knockā¦
The hollow core door explodes behind the force of Robās giant boot.
Daytona Diamonds: The fuck you doinā, you god dang savage?!
Hereās the thing about doors: when theyāre closed and/or locked, you never can really tell whatās happening on the other side. In this case, Daytona Diamonds is behind that door. Not only is Daytona Diamonds behind that door, but heās also butt naked save for his cowboy boots and his hat. He has one leg hiked up on a stool. His hands are at his waist. Heās posed like a hero from antiquity. Exactly eight people sit around him with paint brushes in hand, peeking out from behind their easels. A banner hangs along the back wall. It says: āDAYTONA DIAMONDSā COLOSSAL FIGURE PAINTING CLASS!!! $50 BUCKS A HEAD, ONE NIGHT ONLY!!!ā
Rob: Are you him? Are you the false prophet?
Daytona Diamonds: Do I fuckinā look like a god dang false prophet?! Iāve had it ābout up to here with you buncha Jesus freaks! Iām tryna teach fine art, you pigfuckinā dickweed! Get outta here! Youāre ruininā the ambience!Ā
This seems to satisfy Rob and he backs out of the room. For a moment, levity sets in. Rob laughs maniacally to himself. Is he really executing an inquisition in the locker rooms of a wrestling pay-per-view to find a āfalse prophetā? Is this what a wet brain looks like?
The Father: Do not lose faith, child. Donāt you smell him? Heās near and he is carrying out his perverse mission on the souls of the less faithful. Youāve unloaded your burdens of jealousy tonight. The time to be righteous is now.
Rob: Youāre right, Father.
With a renewed resolve Rob reengages his hunt. It doesnāt take long for him to find the source now, just a few doors down from Daytonaās room sets an empty locker room. The lights are out. Rob instantly picks up the rotten stink of his nemesis.
He searches throughout the entire room frantically for something, anything. A shred. Something to confirm this isnāt a wild goose chase. Everything gets opened, turned inside out, ripped apart. Finally Rob sits with his legs outstretched in the middle of the floor, panting with exhaustion. Maybe itās all in his head.
Rob: Maybeā¦
A piece of paper in Robās peripheral.
āReborn on the Bayouā
The Father: Oh ye of little faith.
On hands and knees Rob scurries like a cockroach to the paper. Crumpled and tiny in his giant hands sits an ad: a religious winter fest not 30 miles away. Baptisms, revival, and various guest sermons. One speaker in particular stands out like its in bold 30 point font, screaming at Rob.
Rob: The false prophet.
The Father: Thou art my battle ax and weapons of war: for with thee I will break in pieces the nations, and with thee will I destroy kingdoms. Go and find him, son. Go and do my work.
Rob: Aye.
The camera stays behind Rob as he pushes himself to a stand, stuffing the flier in his pocket. Shoulders and head high, he charges out of the room to find the divisive cur whose smell he cannot shake. The camera fades to the sound of his cowboy boots clicking down the hallway, bringing utter insanity to whomever the poor soul he is after.
We cut elsewhere backstage.
We return from commercial to find Rob Williams storming through the innards of the Superdome. He is frantic, eyes bulging out of his head and moving extremely well for a 44 year old who just went up against such an electric opponent.
The Father: Do you smell him? His stink?
Of course Rob does. Itās all he can smell. It started the moment Rob arrived at the building. While his earlier match was a welcome distraction, it has returned, dissipating but still a trail of breadcrumbs. But to what?
Rob: What is that?
The Father: The stench of a charlatan. A deceiver. You have served well tonight, Rob. Now it is time to be clean of this stink. Find the false prophet.
A stagehand walks past Rob and Rob grabs him, pushing him against the wall.
Rob: Do you fucking smell it?
Stagehand: Wha..what are you talking about?
Rob: Where is it coming from? God, itās disgusting. Iām sick to my stomach.
Stagehand: I donāt smell anything, sir.
Rob drops the man and continues through the hallways. He is an animal. Possessed. Wild eyes and tense muscles like a dog who has whiffed a hare. The camera follows Rob at a safe distance as he comes upon the locker rooms. All the while Rob has his head cocked back, sniffing at the air.
The Father: āBut a prophet who presumes to speak in my name anything I have not commanded, or a prophet who speaks in the name of other gods, is to be put to death.ā Find him, Rob. The ground he has walked still bares his warmth.
Through gritted teeth Rob plants his face to the first door he comes to, trying to draw in the scents from the jamb. No, not here, he shakes his head and backs away. He repeats this on multiple doors before coming to a door that seems ripe with the musk of whoever he is seeking. His lips quiver as he sucks in a big breath, stepping back.
Rob: Knock knockā¦
The hollow core door explodes behind the force of Robās giant boot.
Daytona Diamonds: The fuck you doinā, you god dang savage?!
Hereās the thing about doors: when theyāre closed and/or locked, you never can really tell whatās happening on the other side. In this case, Daytona Diamonds is behind that door. Not only is Daytona Diamonds behind that door, but heās also butt naked save for his cowboy boots and his hat. He has one leg hiked up on a stool. His hands are at his waist. Heās posed like a hero from antiquity. Exactly eight people sit around him with paint brushes in hand, peeking out from behind their easels. A banner hangs along the back wall. It says: āDAYTONA DIAMONDSā COLOSSAL FIGURE PAINTING CLASS!!! $50 BUCKS A HEAD, ONE NIGHT ONLY!!!ā
Rob: Are you him? Are you the false prophet?
Daytona Diamonds: Do I fuckinā look like a god dang false prophet?! Iāve had it ābout up to here with you buncha Jesus freaks! Iām tryna teach fine art, you pigfuckinā dickweed! Get outta here! Youāre ruininā the ambience!Ā
This seems to satisfy Rob and he backs out of the room. For a moment, levity sets in. Rob laughs maniacally to himself. Is he really executing an inquisition in the locker rooms of a wrestling pay-per-view to find a āfalse prophetā? Is this what a wet brain looks like?
The Father: Do not lose faith, child. Donāt you smell him? Heās near and he is carrying out his perverse mission on the souls of the less faithful. Youāve unloaded your burdens of jealousy tonight. The time to be righteous is now.
Rob: Youāre right, Father.
With a renewed resolve Rob reengages his hunt. It doesnāt take long for him to find the source now, just a few doors down from Daytonaās room sets an empty locker room. The lights are out. Rob instantly picks up the rotten stink of his nemesis.
He searches throughout the entire room frantically for something, anything. A shred. Something to confirm this isnāt a wild goose chase. Everything gets opened, turned inside out, ripped apart. Finally Rob sits with his legs outstretched in the middle of the floor, panting with exhaustion. Maybe itās all in his head.
Rob: Maybeā¦
A piece of paper in Robās peripheral.
āReborn on the Bayouā
The Father: Oh ye of little faith.
On hands and knees Rob scurries like a cockroach to the paper. Crumpled and tiny in his giant hands sits an ad: a religious winter fest not 30 miles away. Baptisms, revival, and various guest sermons. One speaker in particular stands out like its in bold 30 point font, screaming at Rob.
Rob: The false prophet.
The Father: Thou art my battle ax and weapons of war: for with thee I will break in pieces the nations, and with thee will I destroy kingdoms. Go and find him, son. Go and do my work.
Rob: Aye.
The camera stays behind Rob as he pushes himself to a stand, stuffing the flier in his pocket. Shoulders and head high, he charges out of the room to find the divisive cur whose smell he cannot shake. The camera fades to the sound of his cowboy boots clicking down the hallway, bringing utter insanity to whomever the poor soul he is after.
We cut elsewhere backstage.
A solo Cecilworth Farthington is leaning up against a white wall, perhaps for back support, perhaps because heās just a lazy kind of guy. Sitting next to Farthington, perched with a display of pride, sits PRIMEāS Five Star Championship, glistening in full view of the camera as it sits atop a production bin. Farthington pushes himself off the wall, so heās fully upright.
Cecilworth Farthington: I stood in front of this very camera, at Night 2 of Tropical Turmoil, and I made you all a promise. A promise that I feel that day in and day out, I have continued to fulfill. This title, the Five Star Championship, MY Five Star championshipā¦ itās PRIMEās most important, most precious and most valuable prize.
Farthington grabs a bit of the shirt sleeve he has on and begins to buffer the belt to a beautiful sheen, as he continues to talk.
Cecilworth Farthington: Think about it, think hard. Look at who tried to claim the bounty sitting upon my head, every single man was a former champion. One, the Intense, one, the Five Starā¦ twoā¦ two managed to claim Universal Championship glory. All came for me, all failed.
A small smile creeps upon the face of The Glueminatiās Financier.
Cecilworth Farthington: Every single ReVival, I have been battling the best to ever step into PRIMEās ring. Every single manās future legacy is doubtlessly secured and yet still, we all beat the holy hell out of each other, because we are imbibed by the spirit of competition. Itās an intoxication, I grant you, but it feels so glorious to feel competitionās embrace. It makes us stronger, it makes itās better, it pushes us beyond limits we can even fathom. So, I want to take a moment to thank The Anglo Luchador, Brandon Youngblood, Hayes Hanlon and Coral Avalon, because without them, I would not be the same man. The beast may not have awoken, it may have stayed dormant, satisfied with the career Iād already made. The Almasy, a fitting tribute to a fallen friend of manyā¦ a tournament designed to find PRIMEās very best.
The smile quickly turns into a scowl, as if someone just snapped their fingers and Farthingtonās face straight dropped.
Cecilworth Farthington: I want to stand here tonight and talk about my final opponent with reverence and respect. The underdog, he wants you to believe. He didnāt get to the final with heart and grit. His journey disrespects the entire purpose of this great and grand tournament. He wants you to cheer for him because he plopped out of a vagina somewhere near here in what I assume was a very messy incident. Does he deserve it though? Does he deserve your concern and support? I can be aggressive in the ring, Iāve hurt people, Iāve done dangerous thingsā¦ I have never tried to waterboard a man with chocolate.
At this point, itās clear that Farthingtonās frustration with the Hallās has boiled over.
Cecilworth Farthington: This company already has enough of a circus going on with the Universal Championship. Men being painted silver, people dressed like bloody vending machinesā¦ jokesā¦ clownsā¦ buffoonish action. Am I the one sane man who actually gives a shit about what this sport means? Then again, maybe Iām wrong, maybe the Halls are the perfect fit for what the Universal Championship has become.
Farthington returns his gaze to his Five Star Championship, as if looking to it for a solution to his concerns.
Cecilworth Farthington: I am the final line of defense for this sport. I am the one breaking my back while the French and Russians enjoy their vacations, getting rewarded with the biggest spotlight after lazing and lounging for months in this company. I cannot fall here, I cannot, Jonathan, I cannot. To lose to a man who reached the finals, not out of raw talent, but because heās always got a tag partner on the outsideā¦ a man who has less wrestling talent than any of my Almasy bracket, to a man. That will hurt. That will sting. You may not get the beautiful ending you desire should the unfathomable happen.
Farthington shudders at the very thought.
Cecilworth Farthington: When the bell rings tonight, after Iāve ripped your arm straight off the socket, I am going to throw my arms in the arm and accept the embrace of my one true love. I do it all for her, Jonathan, just like you.
Cecilworthās eyes are drawn away from his precious Five Star Championship, allowing space for a cheeky wink towards the camera.
Cecilworth Farthington: I get the sense that my love is stronger.
Farthington grabs his championship and rests it upon his shoulder.
Cecilworth Farthington: See you out there, Johnny Boy.
Farthington walks off out of the scene, which is probably for the best, his eyes were getting a bit concerning, like they could murder through the television screen. We slowly fade away to the fans getting ready for Tony Gamble vs. Brandon Youngblood.
A solo Cecilworth Farthington is leaning up against a white wall, perhaps for back support, perhaps because heās just a lazy kind of guy. Sitting next to Farthington, perched with a display of pride, sits PRIMEāS Five Star Championship, glistening in full view of the camera as it sits atop a production bin. Farthington pushes himself off the wall, so heās fully upright.
Cecilworth Farthington: I stood in front of this very camera, at Night 2 of Tropical Turmoil, and I made you all a promise. A promise that I feel that day in and day out, I have continued to fulfill. This title, the Five Star Championship, MY Five Star championshipā¦ itās PRIMEās most important, most precious and most valuable prize.
Farthington grabs a bit of the shirt sleeve he has on and begins to buffer the belt to a beautiful sheen, as he continues to talk.
Cecilworth Farthington: Think about it, think hard. Look at who tried to claim the bounty sitting upon my head, every single man was a former champion. One, the Intense, one, the Five Starā¦ twoā¦ two managed to claim Universal Championship glory. All came for me, all failed.
A small smile creeps upon the face of The Glueminatiās Financier.
Cecilworth Farthington: Every single ReVival, I have been battling the best to ever step into PRIMEās ring. Every single manās future legacy is doubtlessly secured and yet still, we all beat the holy hell out of each other, because we are imbibed by the spirit of competition. Itās an intoxication, I grant you, but it feels so glorious to feel competitionās embrace. It makes us stronger, it makes itās better, it pushes us beyond limits we can even fathom. So, I want to take a moment to thank The Anglo Luchador, Brandon Youngblood, Hayes Hanlon and Coral Avalon, because without them, I would not be the same man. The beast may not have awoken, it may have stayed dormant, satisfied with the career Iād already made. The Almasy, a fitting tribute to a fallen friend of manyā¦ a tournament designed to find PRIMEās very best.
The smile quickly turns into a scowl, as if someone just snapped their fingers and Farthingtonās face straight dropped.
Cecilworth Farthington: I want to stand here tonight and talk about my final opponent with reverence and respect. The underdog, he wants you to believe. He didnāt get to the final with heart and grit. His journey disrespects the entire purpose of this great and grand tournament. He wants you to cheer for him because he plopped out of a vagina somewhere near here in what I assume was a very messy incident. Does he deserve it though? Does he deserve your concern and support? I can be aggressive in the ring, Iāve hurt people, Iāve done dangerous thingsā¦ I have never tried to waterboard a man with chocolate.
At this point, itās clear that Farthingtonās frustration with the Hallās has boiled over.
Cecilworth Farthington: This company already has enough of a circus going on with the Universal Championship. Men being painted silver, people dressed like bloody vending machinesā¦ jokesā¦ clownsā¦ buffoonish action. Am I the one sane man who actually gives a shit about what this sport means? Then again, maybe Iām wrong, maybe the Halls are the perfect fit for what the Universal Championship has become.
Farthington returns his gaze to his Five Star Championship, as if looking to it for a solution to his concerns.
Cecilworth Farthington: I am the final line of defense for this sport. I am the one breaking my back while the French and Russians enjoy their vacations, getting rewarded with the biggest spotlight after lazing and lounging for months in this company. I cannot fall here, I cannot, Jonathan, I cannot. To lose to a man who reached the finals, not out of raw talent, but because heās always got a tag partner on the outsideā¦ a man who has less wrestling talent than any of my Almasy bracket, to a man. That will hurt. That will sting. You may not get the beautiful ending you desire should the unfathomable happen.
Farthington shudders at the very thought.
Cecilworth Farthington: When the bell rings tonight, after Iāve ripped your arm straight off the socket, I am going to throw my arms in the arm and accept the embrace of my one true love. I do it all for her, Jonathan, just like you.
Cecilworthās eyes are drawn away from his precious Five Star Championship, allowing space for a cheeky wink towards the camera.
Cecilworth Farthington: I get the sense that my love is stronger.
Farthington grabs his championship and rests it upon his shoulder.
Cecilworth Farthington: See you out there, Johnny Boy.
Farthington walks off out of the scene, which is probably for the best, his eyes were getting a bit concerning, like they could murder through the television screen. We slowly fade away to the fans getting ready for Tony Gamble vs. Brandon Youngblood.
We pick up with Nick and Dick at the announce table.
Nick Stuart: Up next as Night One of Colossus rolls right along, a battle between Hall of Famers. Brandon Youngblood, the pinnacle of PRIME, versusā¦ eh, the ant hill of PRIME, Tony Gamble.
Richard Parker: That wasnāt very nice.
Nick Stuart: If he wants nice he shouldāve avoided the eleventh hour.
āBorn for thisā by Divide Music starts to play through the speakers, as Tony Gamble and Johnnie Newsman step out from behind the curtain. Tony just stands there for a moment wearing a yellow with teal pinstripe basketball jersey, NOLA is on the front while the last name Green is on the back; they are both arched over the number 33. The chorus of boos begin to rain down on him from the crowd.
When the choice is mine and mine alone
I wonāt give in even if you break my bones
The lyrics have started, but it is the sound of Johnnieās voice bellowing out above those lyrics that drives the crowd to get even louder.
Johnnie Newsman: HELLLOOOOOOO LOOOOUIIIIIIIGGGGGIIIIIANNNAAA!!!
I wonāt give in ātill your sins have been atoned
All I see is the flickering lights below me
Tony stretches his arms out wide, welcoming the crowdās form of adoration as Johnnie continues to speak and his music plays.
All I need is the power to change what I see
If I can give a little, not a second thought
Johnnie Newsman: Coming to your ring, with thee weight of one hundred and eighty nine pounds of lean, mean muskulls on a man.
If Iām stuck in the middle, I will take the shot, woah
All I wanna be, yeah
Tony makes his way down the ramp, ignoring the few smarks in the crowd that actually do like him as his focus remains on the empty ring. Fans reach their arms out, awaiting a slap of acknowledgement that will never come, as Johnnie stays at the top of the ramp.
Yeah, I was born for this
I will keep my secrets high above
Johnnie Newsman: HE GREATER SAINT THAN BREES!!
In the hopes to protect the ones I love
But I wonder where in darkness lies the truth
Johnnie Newsman: AND SWEETER THAN A PLATE FULL OF BEIGNETS!!
Of the one who took their lives, you canāt excuse
I donāt fear you, I wonāt let you take my home
Johnnie Newsman: THEE REAL ZION OF THE CROISSANT CITY!!
Tony climbs the steps, looking out at the fans that have not quieted down at all since he stepped out from behind the curtain. They love to hate him, and he loves it.
I will climb through to wherever you may roam
I wonāt give in, you can even break my bones
Johnnie Newsman: AND HORNETS FAN FOR LIFE!!
What is within is a strength youāll never know
Johnnie Newsman: TOOOOOOOOOOOONYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!
All I see is the flickering lights below me
All I need is the power to change what I see
Tony steps in between the middle and top ropes to get into the ring, making his way to the center.
Johnnie Newsman: THEEEEE GRRRRRRIIIINNNNNNNN!!
If I can give a little, not a second thought
If Iām stuck in the middle, I will take the shot, woah
He drops down to one knee, lowering his head as he does.
Johnnie Newsman: GAAAAAAAAMMBLLLLLLEEEEE!!
All I wanna be, yeah
Then stretches his arms out once again, welcoming the hate from the crowd.
Yeah, I was born for this
Referee Ashey Barlow gets a jumpstart at going over the rules with Tony, and even manages toĀ search his boots for foreign objects. She comes up empty, but the bulge in Tonyās pants could beā¦ well, you know what it could be.
Nick Stuart: Looks like in preparation for tonight Tony might have taken a blue pill instead of the headache medicine.
Richard Parker: Could be he forgot to tape down, too. Just saying.
The Arena darkens. The shift in ambiance has the fans rise to their feet, the sound rising. And then, cutting through it all, The Battlecry.
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD
SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE
LET THE GALAXY BURN
From the very start of Bloodsport (World Domination) by HEALTH, Brandon Youngblood surges from the curtain and into the well of sound filling the arena. Through the blinding blue and white strobing light cutting through the darkness, the Tower of Babel powerwalks, his eyes trained forward, an oppressive scowl of intensity a hallmark painting his face.
His shoulders sway with the bravado of his BMF walk, a spotlight lighting his path. The 2022 Wrestler of the Year is quick down the ramp, his gait swinging him around the arena floor, to the ring steps. There is no slowdown as his feet pound the steel, stepping between the ropes and exploding upright. Once inside, he begins pacing around the outside perimeter of the ring, his eyes locking toward the curtain, all as Vince Howard makes his announcement.
Vince Howard: Introducing firstā¦hailing from Bandera, Texas by way of Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canadaā¦ weighing in at 265 poundsā¦ he isā¦THE DIIIIIIAMOND! OF THE REVIVAL! BRAAAAAAAANDON! YOUNGBLOOOOOOOOOD!
The lights return, and as they do, the Suplex Daddy readies himself in an amateur stance, his hands on his thighs, a snarl of disdain curling his lips. If looks could kill, then Tony Gamble would already be dead.
Nick Stuart: Here we go! Youngblood. Gamble. Colossus. The Tower of Babel verses the Centimeter of Little Italy. The battle for the king size bed inside the Hall of Fame wing starts now!
DING DING
The bell rings.
Duh.
Youngblood cracks his neck. Then he cracks his knuckles. Then his neck again. Then, as if to say weāre just going to cut out the rest of the foreplay and go straight to the climax, he lowers the straps on his singlet.
Richard Parker: THE BELL JUST RUNG!
Nick Stuart: THEYāRE NOT EVEN SWEATING YET!
Richard Parker: THIS MIGHT GET NO SHOW UGLY!
Gamble doesnāt flinch. He knows thereās only one way for him to win this match, and itās not by wearing his opponent down with grapples and rest holds. No, a guy like him has to go low. He has to cheat. He has to be spineless. The knees. The nuts. The ankles. The shins. The pressure points. The eyes. The ears. The nuts. The knees. The nuts. The big toe. Whatever. Shit, maybe if heās daring, bold, and brazen enough heāll even work over that tortured arm of Brandonās by yanking on it a few times.
Thatās how a guy like Tony Gamble wins.
Survives.
Nick Stuart: Two PRIME Hall of Famers and neither are budging!
Richard Parker: OH WOW! THERE GOES GAMBLE RUSHING IN LIKE HE GOT eGGCEPTIONALY BAD ADVICE FROM A SILHOUETTE IN A DOORWAY!
Nick Stuart: I spoke too soon!
Richard Parker: I guess it shouldnāt be too surprising that Gamble is charging face first into certain death. I assume most, if not all would do just about anything to erase the shame of losing to an eGG Bandit; let alone Bobby Dean.
True.
Tony charges in, and shoots low. Really low. Like, below the shin low. Sadly, for him, he keeps his head down while doing so and The Last Diamond easily punishes him by stomping him out like a cigarette butt.
Nick Stuart: Ouch.
Not one to waste time or energy, the winner of last yearās Almasy drops the point of his elbow into the smaller part of Gambleās back, which causes the Italian fellowās body to reverse bridge in rigid pain.
Richard Parker: I guess he does have a spine after all.
BY hops back up, drops another elbow, hops back up, and then drops a third elbow as if to sayĀ he is really trying to make sure that cigarette butt is good and out.
And maybe paralyzed.
Nick Stuart: Seems to be some added weight behind those elbow drops tonight. It is Colossus.
Richard Parker: It is failure.
When Brandon gets to his feet for the fourth time around he brings Tony up with him. Gamble tries to poke Brandon in the eye to free himself from the two-time Universal Championās deathly clutches, and he does in fact manage to jam his thumb into Brandonās eye. Sadly, Youngblood does not need eyes to bully, let alone stand up to the mob.
Well, not both of them.
The Pinnacle of PRIME doesnāt even wince from Tonyās act of cowardice. He simply in one swift, fluid, dangerous movement winds up and slams his tightened fist into Tonyās gut.
The force. The impact. The terror.
Tony buckles over instantly, like heās been springloaded to do so. Thatās when his lunch, fettuccine alfredo for the carbs, exits his mouth and lands on the canvas. Thereās simply no way of knowing if he vomited from how fast he buckled over, the pain he was in, the placement of the punch, all three, just two out of the three, or one out of the three.
Youāll just have to decide for yourselves.
Thatās not the end of it, though. That is just the beginning. Turns out, the force, impact, and terror of the punch also happens to lift the smaller, paper weight class competitor up in the air a few inches.
Richard Parker: Air Tony!
While Gamble is hovering there, still hunched and post flash vomit, Youngblood quickly hits him with another destroyer-like punch that keeps his opponent afloat.
Then another.
Then another.
Then, Brandon grabs the now straightened up Gamble out of midair, and finishes the combination off with a superior belly to belly suplex that no doubt breaks whatever is left of Tonyās ribs and will to live.
Nick Stuart: I believe if this were a fighting game the kids would say Brandon just juggled Gamble.
Richard Parker: Looks like he stuck the landing, too.
Ashley Barlow freezes from the force, impact, and terror thatĀ just transpired before her. It doesnāt matter though. Tony Gamble is done grinning for the night. Maybe for a while.
Nick Stuart: Hopefully he didnāt sign up for the post show press conference, and if he did it doesnāt look like heās going to make it.
Richard Parker: Maybe Brandon can say a few words for him.
If only there were a way to heal Tonyās bodyā¦ā¦..
The Grin does go out like a gentleman though, seeing as Brandon plants him in his own pile of vomit; making it so Ashely doesnāt have to count the three in it.
1.
2.
3.
DING DING DING
Vince Howard: Your winner byā¦ devastating six-move juggling combination, BRANNNNNNDDOOOOOOONNNN!!!!!!!! YOUNGGGGGGGBLUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!
Brandon stands in the ring victorious, and puts his straps on his singlet back up. Ashley Barlow then raises his hand to mark his triumph. The crowd swoons happy days. Tony quivers on the mat, probably wondering if the guys at the Bada Bing can plunge his chest like a dent in a car door.
Nick Stuart: Well, it seems like Brandon Youngblood is back on the right track, and will be entering the new year on the right foot.
Richard Parker: Poor Tony. Thereās always 2024!
Before the match can cut away, out from the back to interrupt Brandonās victory is Bobby Dean. Coral Avalon, who is competing later on tonight, is with him. Coral has a shot at becoming the GOLDEN BANDIT and as such doesnāt seem too happy to be out there.
Nick Stuart: WELL WAIT JUST A MINUTE! SEEMS LIKE SOMEONE IS OUT HERE TO REPAY THE FAVOR!
Bobby is pointing down at the ring, and shouting at Youngblood from afar. Tony manages to roll out of the ring, and starts to slowly crawl towards the back. Brandon motions for Bob to come on down and say it to his face, and to watch his step along the way.
Nick Stuart: Well how about that?
Much to the surprise of everyone living, and fuck it, the dead too, Bobby Dean, the newly appointed eGGsecutioner of the eGG Bandits, starts to make his way down to the ring.
Richard Parker: How stupid do you have to be after what we just watched, and after getting knife edge chopped into oblivion, and thrown through a table, to come out here and step on Brandonās toes like this?
Nick Stuart: Not that I donāt agree with everything you just said, because I unequivocally do, but keep in mind that Brandon did cut Bobās ābigā victory at ReVival 40 short to challenge Gamble.
Bobby reaches ringside. Coral does too, and is standing between Bob, the ring, and more importantly the person inside of it, a one Brandon Youngblood. The Honaleean and the Babelonian share a few pleasantries before Coral gets the situation under control. He gets Bobbyās attention by pleading with him about a title match happening later on tonight, and about how he should be focusing on that and not standing in the middle of BobbyBlood three.
Nick Stuart: Heās got a point, and itās not like Brandon isnāt fresh.
Coral even mentions his new born child, which ultimately is what breaks Bobbyās intentions, and causes him to head back up the ramp.
Nick Stuart: Crisis averted, cooler heads prevail.
Richard Parker: I donāt know. Something seems off.
Coral, still outside the ring, turns to Youngblood with a smile. Before the two can share in a joke or a congratulation, The Crownless Kingās face turns ghost white. The smile vanishes. His jaw drops. Youngblood, seeing all this happen in real time, quickly turns in anticipation.
He angrily swipes.
Brandon Youngblood: Too slow.
He misses.
CRACK.
Terminal. FUCKING. Cancer.
Richard Parker: FUCKKKKKKK!!!!!!!! ITāS JILES!!! HEāS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!
Nick Stuart: OH MY GOD! ON NIGHT ONE, TOO! WHO COULD HAVE EVER SEEN THIS COMING? Night two, sure. But night one? No way.
Richard Parker: Speaking of seen, did you see what that crumb did to beat Brandon to the punch? That cockroach jumped over the guardrail while Coral was distracting Brandon with baby pictures, slithered under the bottom rope, somehow maintained his balance while crow hopping through Gambleās spewed fettuccine alfredo remnants, and then used said remnants on the bottom of his feet to glide across the ring before entering Brandonās dmās with his patented superkick.
Nick Stuart: Iām speechless. I had no idea you knew what DMās were; and going off of the look on Coralās face my money is on him not knowing a single thing about this. I bet, like mostly everyone else, he just found out.
Richard Parker: (watching the replay) He is such a fucking bag of dicksā¦.. Jiles is.
Coral begins to backpedal. This is the first time heās seeing Jiles since deciding good was better than Bandit at ReVival 39.
Thereās one in every group.
Avalon only takes a few steps before catching up to Bobby. To Bobās credit he had stopped and was not walking slowly, which would presumably lead one to believe heās in on the bit.
Maestro Bob for a reason.
Jiles doesnāt bother sticking around to admire his handy work. He knows better. After all, heās been in Tonyās shoes before. Twice. Instead, he asks his prone old nemesis if he thinks the alfredo sauce has too much salt, shoots him a pucker, and then exits the ring to a mountainous amount of boos.
BOOOOO~!!!!!
BOOOOOOOOOO~!!!!!!!!!!
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Coral quickly heads to the back to prepare for his match and hopefully unfuck his mind before it.
It is a big mind.
Bobby, succulent as ever, waits for Jiles on the ramp. When the two meet up, a certain short, loser, bad day going, victim of Brandon Youngbloodās happens to be crawling by them.
Nick Stuart: Well this is interesting.
Now, let it be known that Bobby does like Chicken Parm, and Meatballs, and Sausage, and Mozzarella, and, well you get the pointā especially if I took the time to capitalize them. More importantly, Tony does have some fettuccine alfredo on his person right now, and in a way he did help Jiles beat Brandon to the punch. So, that said, Bobby and Jiles each grab one of his arms and help him out by dragging his soon to be trafficked ass to the back.
Nick Stuart: Did the Bandits just kidnap Tony Gamble?
Richard Parker: I donāt know if that is a good thing or a bad thing.
Nick Stuart: So much for Brandon entering the year on the right foot.
The shot cuts away from a slowly stirring Brandon Youngblood; and the lone fetticue strand stuck to the side of his face.
We cut to commercial.
We pick up with Nick and Dick at the announce table.
Nick Stuart: Up next as Night One of Colossus rolls right along, a battle between Hall of Famers. Brandon Youngblood, the pinnacle of PRIME, versusā¦ eh, the ant hill of PRIME, Tony Gamble.
Richard Parker: That wasnāt very nice.
Nick Stuart: If he wants nice he shouldāve avoided the eleventh hour.
āBorn for thisā by Divide Music starts to play through the speakers, as Tony Gamble and Johnnie Newsman step out from behind the curtain. Tony just stands there for a moment wearing a yellow with teal pinstripe basketball jersey, NOLA is on the front while the last name Green is on the back; they are both arched over the number 33. The chorus of boos begin to rain down on him from the crowd.
When the choice is mine and mine alone
I wonāt give in even if you break my bones
The lyrics have started, but it is the sound of Johnnieās voice bellowing out above those lyrics that drives the crowd to get even louder.
Johnnie Newsman: HELLLOOOOOOO LOOOOUIIIIIIIGGGGGIIIIIANNNAAA!!!
I wonāt give in ātill your sins have been atoned
All I see is the flickering lights below me
Tony stretches his arms out wide, welcoming the crowdās form of adoration as Johnnie continues to speak and his music plays.
All I need is the power to change what I see
If I can give a little, not a second thought
Johnnie Newsman: Coming to your ring, with thee weight of one hundred and eighty nine pounds of lean, mean muskulls on a man.
If Iām stuck in the middle, I will take the shot, woah
All I wanna be, yeah
Tony makes his way down the ramp, ignoring the few smarks in the crowd that actually do like him as his focus remains on the empty ring. Fans reach their arms out, awaiting a slap of acknowledgement that will never come, as Johnnie stays at the top of the ramp.
Yeah, I was born for this
I will keep my secrets high above
Johnnie Newsman: HE GREATER SAINT THAN BREES!!
In the hopes to protect the ones I love
But I wonder where in darkness lies the truth
Johnnie Newsman: AND SWEETER THAN A PLATE FULL OF BEIGNETS!!
Of the one who took their lives, you canāt excuse
I donāt fear you, I wonāt let you take my home
Johnnie Newsman: THEE REAL ZION OF THE CROISSANT CITY!!
Tony climbs the steps, looking out at the fans that have not quieted down at all since he stepped out from behind the curtain. They love to hate him, and he loves it.
I will climb through to wherever you may roam
I wonāt give in, you can even break my bones
Johnnie Newsman: AND HORNETS FAN FOR LIFE!!
What is within is a strength youāll never know
Johnnie Newsman: TOOOOOOOOOOOONYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!
All I see is the flickering lights below me
All I need is the power to change what I see
Tony steps in between the middle and top ropes to get into the ring, making his way to the center.
Johnnie Newsman: THEEEEE GRRRRRRIIIINNNNNNNN!!
If I can give a little, not a second thought
If Iām stuck in the middle, I will take the shot, woah
He drops down to one knee, lowering his head as he does.
Johnnie Newsman: GAAAAAAAAMMBLLLLLLEEEEE!!
All I wanna be, yeah
Then stretches his arms out once again, welcoming the hate from the crowd.
Yeah, I was born for this
Referee Ashey Barlow gets a jumpstart at going over the rules with Tony, and even manages toĀ search his boots for foreign objects. She comes up empty, but the bulge in Tonyās pants could beā¦ well, you know what it could be.
Nick Stuart: Looks like in preparation for tonight Tony might have taken a blue pill instead of the headache medicine.
Richard Parker: Could be he forgot to tape down, too. Just saying.
The Arena darkens. The shift in ambiance has the fans rise to their feet, the sound rising. And then, cutting through it all, The Battlecry.
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD
SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE
LET THE GALAXY BURN
From the very start of Bloodsport (World Domination) by HEALTH, Brandon Youngblood surges from the curtain and into the well of sound filling the arena. Through the blinding blue and white strobing light cutting through the darkness, the Tower of Babel powerwalks, his eyes trained forward, an oppressive scowl of intensity a hallmark painting his face.
His shoulders sway with the bravado of his BMF walk, a spotlight lighting his path. The 2022 Wrestler of the Year is quick down the ramp, his gait swinging him around the arena floor, to the ring steps. There is no slowdown as his feet pound the steel, stepping between the ropes and exploding upright. Once inside, he begins pacing around the outside perimeter of the ring, his eyes locking toward the curtain, all as Vince Howard makes his announcement.
Vince Howard: Introducing firstā¦hailing from Bandera, Texas by way of Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canadaā¦ weighing in at 265 poundsā¦ he isā¦THE DIIIIIIAMOND! OF THE REVIVAL! BRAAAAAAAANDON! YOUNGBLOOOOOOOOOD!
The lights return, and as they do, the Suplex Daddy readies himself in an amateur stance, his hands on his thighs, a snarl of disdain curling his lips. If looks could kill, then Tony Gamble would already be dead.
Nick Stuart: Here we go! Youngblood. Gamble. Colossus. The Tower of Babel verses the Centimeter of Little Italy. The battle for the king size bed inside the Hall of Fame wing starts now!
DING DING
The bell rings.
Duh.
Youngblood cracks his neck. Then he cracks his knuckles. Then his neck again. Then, as if to say weāre just going to cut out the rest of the foreplay and go straight to the climax, he lowers the straps on his singlet.
Richard Parker: THE BELL JUST RUNG!
Nick Stuart: THEYāRE NOT EVEN SWEATING YET!
Richard Parker: THIS MIGHT GET NO SHOW UGLY!
Gamble doesnāt flinch. He knows thereās only one way for him to win this match, and itās not by wearing his opponent down with grapples and rest holds. No, a guy like him has to go low. He has to cheat. He has to be spineless. The knees. The nuts. The ankles. The shins. The pressure points. The eyes. The ears. The nuts. The knees. The nuts. The big toe. Whatever. Shit, maybe if heās daring, bold, and brazen enough heāll even work over that tortured arm of Brandonās by yanking on it a few times.
Thatās how a guy like Tony Gamble wins.
Survives.
Nick Stuart: Two PRIME Hall of Famers and neither are budging!
Richard Parker: OH WOW! THERE GOES GAMBLE RUSHING IN LIKE HE GOT eGGCEPTIONALY BAD ADVICE FROM A SILHOUETTE IN A DOORWAY!
Nick Stuart: I spoke too soon!
Richard Parker: I guess it shouldnāt be too surprising that Gamble is charging face first into certain death. I assume most, if not all would do just about anything to erase the shame of losing to an eGG Bandit; let alone Bobby Dean.
True.
Tony charges in, and shoots low. Really low. Like, below the shin low. Sadly, for him, he keeps his head down while doing so and The Last Diamond easily punishes him by stomping him out like a cigarette butt.
Nick Stuart: Ouch.
Not one to waste time or energy, the winner of last yearās Almasy drops the point of his elbow into the smaller part of Gambleās back, which causes the Italian fellowās body to reverse bridge in rigid pain.
Richard Parker: I guess he does have a spine after all.
BY hops back up, drops another elbow, hops back up, and then drops a third elbow as if to sayĀ he is really trying to make sure that cigarette butt is good and out.
And maybe paralyzed.
Nick Stuart: Seems to be some added weight behind those elbow drops tonight. It is Colossus.
Richard Parker: It is failure.
When Brandon gets to his feet for the fourth time around he brings Tony up with him. Gamble tries to poke Brandon in the eye to free himself from the two-time Universal Championās deathly clutches, and he does in fact manage to jam his thumb into Brandonās eye. Sadly, Youngblood does not need eyes to bully, let alone stand up to the mob.
Well, not both of them.
The Pinnacle of PRIME doesnāt even wince from Tonyās act of cowardice. He simply in one swift, fluid, dangerous movement winds up and slams his tightened fist into Tonyās gut.
The force. The impact. The terror.
Tony buckles over instantly, like heās been springloaded to do so. Thatās when his lunch, fettuccine alfredo for the carbs, exits his mouth and lands on the canvas. Thereās simply no way of knowing if he vomited from how fast he buckled over, the pain he was in, the placement of the punch, all three, just two out of the three, or one out of the three.
Youāll just have to decide for yourselves.
Thatās not the end of it, though. That is just the beginning. Turns out, the force, impact, and terror of the punch also happens to lift the smaller, paper weight class competitor up in the air a few inches.
Richard Parker: Air Tony!
While Gamble is hovering there, still hunched and post flash vomit, Youngblood quickly hits him with another destroyer-like punch that keeps his opponent afloat.
Then another.
Then another.
Then, Brandon grabs the now straightened up Gamble out of midair, and finishes the combination off with a superior belly to belly suplex that no doubt breaks whatever is left of Tonyās ribs and will to live.
Nick Stuart: I believe if this were a fighting game the kids would say Brandon just juggled Gamble.
Richard Parker: Looks like he stuck the landing, too.
Ashley Barlow freezes from the force, impact, and terror thatĀ just transpired before her. It doesnāt matter though. Tony Gamble is done grinning for the night. Maybe for a while.
Nick Stuart: Hopefully he didnāt sign up for the post show press conference, and if he did it doesnāt look like heās going to make it.
Richard Parker: Maybe Brandon can say a few words for him.
If only there were a way to heal Tonyās bodyā¦ā¦..
The Grin does go out like a gentleman though, seeing as Brandon plants him in his own pile of vomit; making it so Ashely doesnāt have to count the three in it.
1.
2.
3.
DING DING DING
Vince Howard: Your winner byā¦ devastating six-move juggling combination, BRANNNNNNDDOOOOOOONNNN!!!!!!!! YOUNGGGGGGGBLUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!
Brandon stands in the ring victorious, and puts his straps on his singlet back up. Ashley Barlow then raises his hand to mark his triumph. The crowd swoons happy days. Tony quivers on the mat, probably wondering if the guys at the Bada Bing can plunge his chest like a dent in a car door.
Nick Stuart: Well, it seems like Brandon Youngblood is back on the right track, and will be entering the new year on the right foot.
Richard Parker: Poor Tony. Thereās always 2024!
Before the match can cut away, out from the back to interrupt Brandonās victory is Bobby Dean. Coral Avalon, who is competing later on tonight, is with him. Coral has a shot at becoming the GOLDEN BANDIT and as such doesnāt seem too happy to be out there.
Nick Stuart: WELL WAIT JUST A MINUTE! SEEMS LIKE SOMEONE IS OUT HERE TO REPAY THE FAVOR!
Bobby is pointing down at the ring, and shouting at Youngblood from afar. Tony manages to roll out of the ring, and starts to slowly crawl towards the back. Brandon motions for Bob to come on down and say it to his face, and to watch his step along the way.
Nick Stuart: Well how about that?
Much to the surprise of everyone living, and fuck it, the dead too, Bobby Dean, the newly appointed eGGsecutioner of the eGG Bandits, starts to make his way down to the ring.
Richard Parker: How stupid do you have to be after what we just watched, and after getting knife edge chopped into oblivion, and thrown through a table, to come out here and step on Brandonās toes like this?
Nick Stuart: Not that I donāt agree with everything you just said, because I unequivocally do, but keep in mind that Brandon did cut Bobās ābigā victory at ReVival 40 short to challenge Gamble.
Bobby reaches ringside. Coral does too, and is standing between Bob, the ring, and more importantly the person inside of it, a one Brandon Youngblood. The Honaleean and the Babelonian share a few pleasantries before Coral gets the situation under control. He gets Bobbyās attention by pleading with him about a title match happening later on tonight, and about how he should be focusing on that and not standing in the middle of BobbyBlood three.
Nick Stuart: Heās got a point, and itās not like Brandon isnāt fresh.
Coral even mentions his new born child, which ultimately is what breaks Bobbyās intentions, and causes him to head back up the ramp.
Nick Stuart: Crisis averted, cooler heads prevail.
Richard Parker: I donāt know. Something seems off.
Coral, still outside the ring, turns to Youngblood with a smile. Before the two can share in a joke or a congratulation, The Crownless Kingās face turns ghost white. The smile vanishes. His jaw drops. Youngblood, seeing all this happen in real time, quickly turns in anticipation.
He angrily swipes.
Brandon Youngblood: Too slow.
He misses.
CRACK.
Terminal. FUCKING. Cancer.
Richard Parker: FUCKKKKKKK!!!!!!!! ITāS JILES!!! HEāS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!
Nick Stuart: OH MY GOD! ON NIGHT ONE, TOO! WHO COULD HAVE EVER SEEN THIS COMING? Night two, sure. But night one? No way.
Richard Parker: Speaking of seen, did you see what that crumb did to beat Brandon to the punch? That cockroach jumped over the guardrail while Coral was distracting Brandon with baby pictures, slithered under the bottom rope, somehow maintained his balance while crow hopping through Gambleās spewed fettuccine alfredo remnants, and then used said remnants on the bottom of his feet to glide across the ring before entering Brandonās dmās with his patented superkick.
Nick Stuart: Iām speechless. I had no idea you knew what DMās were; and going off of the look on Coralās face my money is on him not knowing a single thing about this. I bet, like mostly everyone else, he just found out.
Richard Parker: (watching the replay) He is such a fucking bag of dicksā¦.. Jiles is.
Coral begins to backpedal. This is the first time heās seeing Jiles since deciding good was better than Bandit at ReVival 39.
Thereās one in every group.
Avalon only takes a few steps before catching up to Bobby. To Bobās credit he had stopped and was not walking slowly, which would presumably lead one to believe heās in on the bit.
Maestro Bob for a reason.
Jiles doesnāt bother sticking around to admire his handy work. He knows better. After all, heās been in Tonyās shoes before. Twice. Instead, he asks his prone old nemesis if he thinks the alfredo sauce has too much salt, shoots him a pucker, and then exits the ring to a mountainous amount of boos.
BOOOOO~!!!!!
BOOOOOOOOOO~!!!!!!!!!!
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Coral quickly heads to the back to prepare for his match and hopefully unfuck his mind before it.
It is a big mind.
Bobby, succulent as ever, waits for Jiles on the ramp. When the two meet up, a certain short, loser, bad day going, victim of Brandon Youngbloodās happens to be crawling by them.
Nick Stuart: Well this is interesting.
Now, let it be known that Bobby does like Chicken Parm, and Meatballs, and Sausage, and Mozzarella, and, well you get the pointā especially if I took the time to capitalize them. More importantly, Tony does have some fettuccine alfredo on his person right now, and in a way he did help Jiles beat Brandon to the punch. So, that said, Bobby and Jiles each grab one of his arms and help him out by dragging his soon to be trafficked ass to the back.
Nick Stuart: Did the Bandits just kidnap Tony Gamble?
Richard Parker: I donāt know if that is a good thing or a bad thing.
Nick Stuart: So much for Brandon entering the year on the right foot.
The shot cuts away from a slowly stirring Brandon Youngblood; and the lone fetticue strand stuck to the side of his face.
We cut to commercial.
The screen fades up from black to show the smiling face and bespoke outfit of āRock & Rollā Johnny Belmont, beloved wrestling legend.
Then, a voice-over.
āThe founder of our organization, Jonathan Belmont, had two great loves in his lifeā¦professional wrestling, and rock & roll music.ā
His personal history says otherwise, but thatās not something weāre going to get into for this commercial.
āAt their heart, these things are very similar. They are the pursuit of a dream.ā
Another still, this time of Johnny at the height of his popularity. Shaking hands with rock stars, actors, andā¦is that the Pope?
āThe dream of performing in front of thousands of screaming fans, to gain the love and adoration of millions all over the world. Not just to live, but to be larger than life. A taste of immortality.ā
The night of his final match, Belmont stands in the ring in the middle of the Los Angeles Coliseum, his arms outstretched, soaking in the cheers from the massive crowd.
āIn two weeks, we will announce the field for this yearās tournament. Thirty-two hopeful souls who will get the chance to live that dream.ā
Pictures from the first few years of the Belmont Classic, where the charismatic legend shook hands and smiled with many of the young hopefuls who competed in those years.
āAt the end of the year, they will gatherā¦and whoever wants it the most, whoever is willing to shed their blood, sweat, and tears, whoever can show the most skill, talent, determination and heartā¦they will see that dream come true.ā
THE BELMONT CLASSIC
Chaifetz Arena
St. Louis, MO
December 28-30, 2023
The heart of rock & roll is still beating.
The screen fades up from black to show the smiling face and bespoke outfit of āRock & Rollā Johnny Belmont, beloved wrestling legend.
Then, a voice-over.
āThe founder of our organization, Jonathan Belmont, had two great loves in his lifeā¦professional wrestling, and rock & roll music.ā
His personal history says otherwise, but thatās not something weāre going to get into for this commercial.
āAt their heart, these things are very similar. They are the pursuit of a dream.ā
Another still, this time of Johnny at the height of his popularity. Shaking hands with rock stars, actors, andā¦is that the Pope?
āThe dream of performing in front of thousands of screaming fans, to gain the love and adoration of millions all over the world. Not just to live, but to be larger than life. A taste of immortality.ā
The night of his final match, Belmont stands in the ring in the middle of the Los Angeles Coliseum, his arms outstretched, soaking in the cheers from the massive crowd.
āIn two weeks, we will announce the field for this yearās tournament. Thirty-two hopeful souls who will get the chance to live that dream.ā
Pictures from the first few years of the Belmont Classic, where the charismatic legend shook hands and smiled with many of the young hopefuls who competed in those years.
āAt the end of the year, they will gatherā¦and whoever wants it the most, whoever is willing to shed their blood, sweat, and tears, whoever can show the most skill, talent, determination and heartā¦they will see that dream come true.ā
THE BELMONT CLASSIC
Chaifetz Arena
St. Louis, MO
December 28-30, 2023
The heart of rock & roll is still beating.
Returning from commercial, we locate ourselves another Hall of Famer about to do the same.
WHOOOOOOOOOOO!
Here, in the wings of the Superdome, battle ready, is Chandler Tsonda. The Numbers Donāt Lie title is securely fastened around his waist.
The Model Citizen bounces on the balls of his feet and shadow boxes. For competitors who havenāt felt nerves pinch their guts in years, Colossus and the grand stage is still enough to make a little flutter above the duodenum. Whatever Tsonda feels, itās all
A commotion off screen announces the arrival of, well, somebody else.
Chandler Tsonda: (looking off-screen) As I live and fuckinā breathe. You made it!
Itās Colossus, and the Tsondex is several papyrus scrolls long. It could be anyone from Tsondaās past.
Wade Elliott?
Tyler Rayne?
HBIC Lindsay Troy?
Danny Ferguson?
Paxton Ray?
Devin Shakur?
The camera pans as the Model Citizen walks towards the unknown figure.
Chandler Tsonda: I thought you said you had warrants out for you in Louisiana, you old scamp!
The camera findsā¦
ā¦Enemigo XI, long-time ally(?) of the Numbers Donāt Lie champion. Our friendly Enemigo has on his Colossus best: lucha mask, and a tuxedo, with a green and red tartan-patterned bow tie. āTis the season. In his right hand is what appears to be a 2-gallon glass jug of eggnog, and in his left is a bat wrapped in barbed wire. He contains multitudes.
Chandler Tsonda: You definitely told me you couldnāt cross the state line after, you knowā¦ (lowers his voice) The Devereaux Aquatic Incident.
Enemigo XI: ā¦
Chandler Tsonda: Well, my lips are sealed. By the way, incredible duds.
Enemigo XI: (raises jug of eggnog towards Tsonda)
It is never, ever clear if Enemigo XI speaks or understands English, or any other language for that matter. This does not deter the Model Citizen.
Chandler Tsonda: (eyeing the eggnog) Dairy makes the legs heavy. Thanks, though.
Enemigo XI: ā¦
Chandler Tsonda: (points to the barbed wire bat) Is that for me?
Enemigo XI: (absolutely no response)
Chandler Tsonda: You seriously shouldnāt have. And also, itās totally banned from ringside. But I will treasure it. Youāre sweet. We did say no gifts.
Enemigo XI: ā¦
Chandler Tsonda: Ha, you know me too well. Of course I got you something too. Check your email: that Phish show you wanted to see at the Sphere in Vegas. Youāre going VIP with a meet-and-greet, brother!
Some day, a dogged reporter will look into just how the Sultan of Styleās interns have the email of a man who never speaks. That day is not today.
The masked man puts down the barbed wire bat and eggnog. He holds up two fingers, in not quite a peace sign.
Chandler Tsonda: Weāve talked about this: I donāt do jam bands. Itās gonna smell CRAZY in there. But Iām happy if youāre happy, dude. Send me pics when you go.
Enemigo XI: (does a wobbly thing with his head)
Chandler Tsonda: Thatās wild.
Enemigo XI: (does it again)
Chandler Tsonda: Donāt get the law on you in Nevada like you did in Louisiana, man. Where the hell will we go for your bachelor party if we canāt do Vegas or Nawlins?
Enemigo XI: (claps his hands together)
Chandler Tsonda: Youāre right. This is fun, but Iām all business from here on out. Nothing but fucking up Avalonās first week as a dad on my mind.
Enemigo XI: ā¦
Chandler Tsonda: Cāmon, donāt talk like that. Your dad loved you in his own way. He was a complicated guy.
Enemigo XI: (adjusts his bowtie)
Chandler Tsonda: But youāre right: nobody wants to hear about legacy this, legacy that. Gotta go out there, hop over those ropes, and find your way to a win, by hook or by crook. Youāve always said that. Thatās why youāre the living legend.
Enemigo XI: ā¦
Chandler Tsonda: Quit bending my ear, chatty Kathy! I gotta go to work. The people need Colossus Chan.
Enemigo XI: (turns his pockets inside out for some reason?)
Chandler Tsonda: Iām on it. Six-and-oh at Colossus coming up.
The Model Citizen reaches over and pats his friend(????) on the shoulder.
Chandler Tsonda: See you on the other side.
Enemigo XI: (produces an identical Enemigo mask from inside his tuxedo jacket and holds it up)
Chandler Tsonda: You goddamn right. Friends forever. Love you, man.
Tsondaās off to the Argyle position.
Where Enemigo XI goes next is between him and his god.
This very normal interaction cuts to the other half of the Alias Title match.
Returning from commercial, we locate ourselves another Hall of Famer about to do the same.
WHOOOOOOOOOOO!
Here, in the wings of the Superdome, battle ready, is Chandler Tsonda. The Numbers Donāt Lie title is securely fastened around his waist.
The Model Citizen bounces on the balls of his feet and shadow boxes. For competitors who havenāt felt nerves pinch their guts in years, Colossus and the grand stage is still enough to make a little flutter above the duodenum. Whatever Tsonda feels, itās all
A commotion off screen announces the arrival of, well, somebody else.
Chandler Tsonda: (looking off-screen) As I live and fuckinā breathe. You made it!
Itās Colossus, and the Tsondex is several papyrus scrolls long. It could be anyone from Tsondaās past.
Wade Elliott?
Tyler Rayne?
HBIC Lindsay Troy?
Danny Ferguson?
Paxton Ray?
Devin Shakur?
The camera pans as the Model Citizen walks towards the unknown figure.
Chandler Tsonda: I thought you said you had warrants out for you in Louisiana, you old scamp!
The camera findsā¦
ā¦Enemigo XI, long-time ally(?) of the Numbers Donāt Lie champion. Our friendly Enemigo has on his Colossus best: lucha mask, and a tuxedo, with a green and red tartan-patterned bow tie. āTis the season. In his right hand is what appears to be a 2-gallon glass jug of eggnog, and in his left is a bat wrapped in barbed wire. He contains multitudes.
Chandler Tsonda: You definitely told me you couldnāt cross the state line after, you knowā¦ (lowers his voice) The Devereaux Aquatic Incident.
Enemigo XI: ā¦
Chandler Tsonda: Well, my lips are sealed. By the way, incredible duds.
Enemigo XI: (raises jug of eggnog towards Tsonda)
It is never, ever clear if Enemigo XI speaks or understands English, or any other language for that matter. This does not deter the Model Citizen.
Chandler Tsonda: (eyeing the eggnog) Dairy makes the legs heavy. Thanks, though.
Enemigo XI: ā¦
Chandler Tsonda: (points to the barbed wire bat) Is that for me?
Enemigo XI: (absolutely no response)
Chandler Tsonda: You seriously shouldnāt have. And also, itās totally banned from ringside. But I will treasure it. Youāre sweet. We did say no gifts.
Enemigo XI: ā¦
Chandler Tsonda: Ha, you know me too well. Of course I got you something too. Check your email: that Phish show you wanted to see at the Sphere in Vegas. Youāre going VIP with a meet-and-greet, brother!
Some day, a dogged reporter will look into just how the Sultan of Styleās interns have the email of a man who never speaks. That day is not today.
The masked man puts down the barbed wire bat and eggnog. He holds up two fingers, in not quite a peace sign.
Chandler Tsonda: Weāve talked about this: I donāt do jam bands. Itās gonna smell CRAZY in there. But Iām happy if youāre happy, dude. Send me pics when you go.
Enemigo XI: (does a wobbly thing with his head)
Chandler Tsonda: Thatās wild.
Enemigo XI: (does it again)
Chandler Tsonda: Donāt get the law on you in Nevada like you did in Louisiana, man. Where the hell will we go for your bachelor party if we canāt do Vegas or Nawlins?
Enemigo XI: (claps his hands together)
Chandler Tsonda: Youāre right. This is fun, but Iām all business from here on out. Nothing but fucking up Avalonās first week as a dad on my mind.
Enemigo XI: ā¦
Chandler Tsonda: Cāmon, donāt talk like that. Your dad loved you in his own way. He was a complicated guy.
Enemigo XI: (adjusts his bowtie)
Chandler Tsonda: But youāre right: nobody wants to hear about legacy this, legacy that. Gotta go out there, hop over those ropes, and find your way to a win, by hook or by crook. Youāve always said that. Thatās why youāre the living legend.
Enemigo XI: ā¦
Chandler Tsonda: Quit bending my ear, chatty Kathy! I gotta go to work. The people need Colossus Chan.
Enemigo XI: (turns his pockets inside out for some reason?)
Chandler Tsonda: Iām on it. Six-and-oh at Colossus coming up.
The Model Citizen reaches over and pats his friend(????) on the shoulder.
Chandler Tsonda: See you on the other side.
Enemigo XI: (produces an identical Enemigo mask from inside his tuxedo jacket and holds it up)
Chandler Tsonda: You goddamn right. Friends forever. Love you, man.
Tsondaās off to the Argyle position.
Where Enemigo XI goes next is between him and his god.
This very normal interaction cuts to the other half of the Alias Title match.
We cut to the backstage area.
A camera pointed towards the floor slowly catches a pair of black wrestling boots covered in blue knee pads. Connected to those are a set of electric blue wrestling tights thatās still taking some getting used to on this man. Connected to those are a tall, lean man attached to a forehead and blonde hair.
Itās Coral Avalon.
Applause!
The Crownless King walks with purpose, because he is heading to the ring for his Alias championship opportunity against Chandler Tsonda that heās earned from defeating him in the Seymour Almasy Memorial Tournament. Soon, he would try and prove that numbers really didnāt lieā¦ and that they spell disaster for Chandler Tsonda at Colossus.
And then he stops.
A man in a cheap ash gray business suit and a golden mask is walking in the opposite direction, and their paths inevitably cross.
Their gazes meet, and Coralās steady pace slows to a complete stop as the man known as the Fabulous Gold Mask walks past the Crownless King. Their eyes never leave one another, even as the masked man keeps walking. Avalon cranes his neck to watch the masked man pass him by, as though wary of an attempt by the masked man to attack him.
The Fabulous Gold Mask, however, does not take him up on such an attack. Instead, he disappears around a corner and out of view as Coral watches. For a moment, Coral takes a step towards the direction that Fabby has gone in, and seems to consider the idea of following him.
Then he shakes his head.
No, he has bigger fish to fry tonight.
After all, he has a rubber match with Chandler Tsonda in mere moments, and a chance to bring the Alias championship home to Seattle.
And so, Coral Avalon turns and marches towards the ring.
Towards destiny.
We cut to ringside.
We cut to the backstage area.
A camera pointed towards the floor slowly catches a pair of black wrestling boots covered in blue knee pads. Connected to those are a set of electric blue wrestling tights thatās still taking some getting used to on this man. Connected to those are a tall, lean man attached to a forehead and blonde hair.
Itās Coral Avalon.
Applause!
The Crownless King walks with purpose, because he is heading to the ring for his Alias championship opportunity against Chandler Tsonda that heās earned from defeating him in the Seymour Almasy Memorial Tournament. Soon, he would try and prove that numbers really didnāt lieā¦ and that they spell disaster for Chandler Tsonda at Colossus.
And then he stops.
A man in a cheap ash gray business suit and a golden mask is walking in the opposite direction, and their paths inevitably cross.
Their gazes meet, and Coralās steady pace slows to a complete stop as the man known as the Fabulous Gold Mask walks past the Crownless King. Their eyes never leave one another, even as the masked man keeps walking. Avalon cranes his neck to watch the masked man pass him by, as though wary of an attempt by the masked man to attack him.
The Fabulous Gold Mask, however, does not take him up on such an attack. Instead, he disappears around a corner and out of view as Coral watches. For a moment, Coral takes a step towards the direction that Fabby has gone in, and seems to consider the idea of following him.
Then he shakes his head.
No, he has bigger fish to fry tonight.
After all, he has a rubber match with Chandler Tsonda in mere moments, and a chance to bring the Alias championship home to Seattle.
And so, Coral Avalon turns and marches towards the ring.
Towards destiny.
We cut to ringside.
The lights in the Superdome dim as the PRIME*View lights up and the audience behold one of those machines they use to draw lotteries, with a selection of balls bouncing around inside, bumping off the edges.
Nick Stuart: Itās time for one of our two Colossus title bouts, and this one is major. Coral Avalon and Chandler Tsonda have been back and forth verbally and in the ring for the last few months, both of them have snatched a win from each other and tonight, with the Numbers Donāt Lie championship on the line, we have ourselves a rubber match.
Richard Parker: Iād complain where we got the budget for one of those machines but I have an inkling that it isnāt the most wasteful thing weāll see in the next few moments.
Nick Stuart: As my partner is alluding to, we are about to find out the number of minutes this contest will be for. A winner is declared by whoever gains the most falls in the time limit, like a randomly generated Iron Man match.
The balls continue to spin around until a ghost (maybe Doozer?) lifts the top of the machine and a small orange ball sides out to be centrally displayed. As the camera zooms in on the ball, we see that Avalon vs. Tsondaās rubber match will be contested forā¦
TWENTY SEVEN MINUTES
We cut to Vince Howard, who stands in the ring for his next announcement.
Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for the next twenty seven minutes, and it is for the Numbers Donāt Lie Championship!
RAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!
And then Vince Howard and the rest of the Superdome is cast into darkness
.
The darkness lasts a while, and the many people whoāve crowded into the Superdome for the first night of Colossus can be heard murmuring. When a song hit the PA system, it isnāt the usual song and dance for Coral Avalon. This one hits different. Because when the guitar hitsā¦ thereās chanting.
BAN-DITS!
Like a call from beyond. Like a carrion call that tugs on your soul and makes Bobby Dean go from a fart to a shart. That isnāt AC/DCās āThunderstruckā. Thatās āBanditstruckā. The fans react with a mixture of cheering and boos, as this is definitely the arrival of Coral Avalonā¦ of the eGG Bandits.
BAN-DITS!
Two spotlights hit the entrance ramp. One man and one cardboard cutout strike poses. The man is, of course, the one and only Lunchbox Loquacious, and boy howdy is he not shutting up about actually being in front of this many people. The cardboard cutout, standing as menacingly as the day he was printed, is none other than Cardboard Dan Ryan. The camera continues walking forward past the two of them.
BAN-DITS!
Two more spotlights, further up. One spotlight seems to be cast upon nothing, but a closer inspection might reveal that familiar whiff of Boston and never giving up that is Doozer. Doozer invisibly flexes. The other spotlight is reserved for the Bandit-in-Training, Chris Chickentenders, whoā¦ doesnāt really want to be here for this particular entrance, and instead stands there as though required by law.
They didnāt even let him have his cell phone, this sucks. Everything sucks.
BAN-DITS!
Finally, one more spotlight.
This one is reserved for the Captain himself. The eGGsecutioner. The Beautiful Man from Honalee. āBeautifulā Bobby Dean. He has a bag of Doritos and seems somewhat surprised to find cameras upon him and a spotlight shining down on him.
BAN-DITS!
The camera moves past him, and to the main entryway. There, lights come up on stage, revealingā¦
ā¦revealingā¦
Hey, Richard? Can you give me your hottest take right now?
Richard Parker: ā¦what the fuck is that abomination?
Cool.
Hey guys. So, uhā¦ donāt look now, but thereās a giant forehead on the stage.
And no, weāre not even talking about Coral Avalon himself yet.
The forehead is a round construct just big enough to be considered a small building like a shed. When the spotlight hits it, it becomes clear that itās built from cheap materials. Very cheap materials. Even the blonde āhairā looks like itās made from construction paper.
The forehead lingers for a long moment before it collapses in on itself, as though it canāt sustain its own weight. Like the cracking of an egg. āBanditstruckā stops, and the opening notes of Monster Sirenās āReal Meā replaces it.
Within the forehead is a throne. Of course there is, why wouldnāt there be a throne?
Itās white with red cushions. Swords are crudely adorned along the top, like the worldās most shit Iron Throne. For some reason, and this seems very out of place, there is a doll of King Crumb himself hanging out at the top of the throne. As though Jiles is here in spirit, because God forbid that he ever shows up on Night One of a pay-per-view.
It sits on a silver platform about four feet high, with a set of stairs descending downward. From there, a single man sits upon the throne with his legs crossed. Dressed in his leonine cloak worn over an electric blue jumpsuit, the man known as the Crownless King has appeared in his former hometown of New Orleans.
After a lengthy pause, Avalon rises from his seat and slowly walks down the stairs. His steps are deliberate, as though afraid he might trip over something and look very foolish. When the guitars of the song hit, the entryway becomes an inferno of fire as pyrotechnics and flames rise up from either side of the entrance. After a pause, Avalon makes his march towards the ring.
Vince Howard: Introducing first, the challengerā¦ currently residing in Seattle, Washington! He weighs in tonight at two hundred and fourteen pounds! HE IS HARD BOILED! HE IS THE CROWNLESS KING! THE ACE OF THE EGG BANDITS! THIS! IS! CORAAAAAALLLLLL! AVALOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNN!!!
When Coral reaches āBeautifulā Bobby Dean, the man who is now the Captain of the Bandits glides into a waddling flank behind the Crownless King. Then, when Coral passes by who we think is Doozer and the apathetic Chris Chickentenders, they too fall into line behind Avalon. The same happens with Lunchbox Lorne and Cardboard Dan Ryan, and we wonāt get into how CBD can fall in line with this motley crew thatās accompanying the Crownless King. He just does, and we all have to accept that fact in this dark and cruel world.
Richard Parker: What a serious, serious downgrade from those Crownless Kingdom bozos that he was hanging out with a couple of months ago. I already didnāt like Avalon, but associating him with these clowns puts him on my shit list.
Nick Stuart: He just became a father two days ago, so you have to think his emotions are running high tonight.
Richard Parker: Oh, god, this guyās kid is going to grow up with Cancer Jiles in their life. I wouldnāt wish that on my worst enemy. Which, to be fair, is Jiles himself. Can you imagine a reality where Cancer Jiles has to grow up with another Cancer Jiles in his life? Jesus God. Thatās a reality that canāt happen.
Nick Stuart: Donāt say that too loud, Anna Daniels might hear you.
When Avalon reaches the ring, he doesnāt enter right away. Instead, he walks around the ring to the side of the hard cam. The Bandits line up in front of the apron, while Avalon hops up onto the ring apron and turns to face the camera with his back to the ropes. With all of the Bandits trying their best to look cool, Avalon throws up both fists in the air with the pinky and ring fingers out. Pyro shoots out of the ring posts as he does.
Avalon steps into the ring and climbs up onto the nearest set of turnbuckles to bask in the cheers of the crowd. He may be a Bandit, yes, but even Banditry canāt stop this very impressive pro wrestler from catching the cheers of his fans. The cheers of his kingdom, tens of thousands strong.
A Bandit though he may be, he is still a King. But will this King leave with another jewel for the crown he still doesnāt have?
He removes the cloak and unzips the jumpsuit, and awaits his opponent. When you dim the lights on the Superdome, itās still pretty well light. But that audio system? Hoowhee, sucker.
In the dusky light, over the next thirty sections, the main sensation is the tremble of unfamiliar music.
Synth horns.
I feel big, you know what I mean?
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
When you dim the lights on the Superdome, and then you play their native son, Lilā Wayne? Quadruple hoowhee, sucker.
Wayneās snap crackle of a voice continues the spoken intro to āMr. Carter.ā
Like not-not big in the sense of weight, you know what I mean?
Bring in the hi hats.
Like gaininā weight or nothinā like that, like COLOSSAL
And now you see what he did there.
Drop the drums.
Like, know what I mean, like
I heard you were lookinā for me
And then āMr. Carterā cuts. A strange transition into a familiar ambient hum.
Up on the PRIME*View, we see a pre-tape ofā¦.
Nick Stuart: Looks like someone may have called in a heck of a celebrity favor!
ā¦the real Lilā Wayne, not just the track. Itās clearly pre-taped, but it doesnāt matter. New Awlins own is greeted with utter uproar.
And as he appears, the PA system kicks up that bittersweet violin. The drone buzz echo in the backing track, along familiar words coming out of his mouth. He says only two lines before the video cuts out.
I said ākiss me youāre beautifulā
These are truly the last motherfuckinā days
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Richard Parker: This fucking guy never met a pop too cheap for him.
And thatās one way to pretty accurately encapsulate the Model Citizen.
The final music cue: frenetically strummed acoustic guitar. Ten seconds of crescendo in the crowd as they rise to a boil.
The drums arrive, as does the banshee shriek of the guitar, but itās all elementary at this point because at this volumeā¦
Nick Stuart: (yelling) I canāt hear myself think!
Exactly.
Vince Howard: Making his way to the ring, from San Diego, Californiaā¦
Thereās another fifteen seconds of rising electricity in Coheed and Cambriaās āWelcome Home.ā And yeah, the lights still havenāt come up.
But now they do.
Vince Howard: He weighs in at 187 pounds, and is the REIGNING AND DEFENDING Numbers Donāt Lie championā¦
The spotlight hits Chandler Tsonda, arms out to the sides, palms and eyes facing the top of the Superdome. Mind you, itās ripshit in terms of volume. Hooting and hollering happening in frightening but equal measure.
Richard Parker: We need an austerity movement in PRIME.
Vince Howard: HE IS THE MODEL CITIZEN! CHANNNNNNNNNNNNDLER TSOOOOOOONDAAAAAAAAA!
In his spotlight, he stands atop a colossus.
Nick Stuart: I admire the stars of PRIME for constantly finding new ways to surprise us. This isā¦certainly a surprise.
Tsonda stands atop a very specific colossus. He is in what appears to be the pilot seat(?) of a 20-foot tall Godzilla.
Richard Parker: Is he, likeā¦.sewed into that? Is it a mech? What am I evenā¦?
Without answering the question, Tsonda brings his eyes down and moves his arms forward. As he does, the Godzilla suit begins to rumble down the ramp.
Nick Stuart: Do you think this is more Monarch: Legacy of Monsters or Godzilla Minus Zero?
Richard Parker: Heās definitely a zero, you got that right.
Some marvel of engineering, the Godzilla suit has Tsonda standing within, but still able to control it, like a highly tuned pair of stilts within the suit that Ripley wore at the end of Alien. Amidst the raucous cheering, there is some awed silence at the panache among fans as Chanzilla moves by them.
Richard Parker: Praying for Mothra to deliver us from this.
Tsonda takes his sweet ass time, soaking in the sound that occurs at a place and time like Colossus. Maybe only at Colossus.
The Godzilla suit reaches just outside the ring apron.
Nick Stuart: Dismounting from this will be interesting for the self-proclaimed king of Colossus.
It is.
Because Chandler Tsonda can not ever help himself.
And the guy is addicted to flashbulbs.
Proving that he wasnāt sewn into the seat, the Sultan of Style leaps from his spot atop the monster, flipping forward over 360 degrees as he plunges towards the ring.
Thatāll get you flashbulbs.
And with a flourish, Tsonda then lands on his feet on the near side of the ring, to one final spout of audience madness.
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Tsonda taps a fist against his chest twice, and points out at crowd, particularly up at the cheap seats. The message is clear: I got you.
Nick Stuart: Nobody on the roster has fought more times at Colossus than Chandler Tsonda, and here he shows rare emotion.
TSON-DA! TSON-DA! TSON-DA!
On the outside, four tech guys work on transporting Godzilla back up the ramp. Colossus is a team sport.
And then, the moment passes across the face of the Model Citizen. He nods and does prayer hands to the crowd one final time. He mouths something indecipherable, and then turns towards Jimmy Turnbull. His expression is deadly serious, and he stares straight ahead. Itās time. After performing the final checks on both men and making sure that the throne, giant skull and Godzilla are safely out of the arena, Turnbull looks towards the Bandit army at ringside with a degree of curiosity, as does Tsonda.
Avalon catches the eyes of most of the Bandits, apart from Chickentenders of course, because heās sliding his fingers all up and down his telephone device. Avalon gives a single nod to The Captain, Bobby Dean, who guides his wayward Bandits backstage, to watch this contest from afar.
Satisfied that the final checks are done, Turnbull presents the Numbers Donāt Lie championship to both men and signals for the bell, causing an uproar in noise.
DING DING
Nick Stuart: Who you got in this one?
Richard Parker: The one true hero of this entire situation, proper budgetary control.
As the bell rings, and the fans recover from two completely batshit entrances, thereās a wall of noise that engulfs the Superdome. The crowd doesnāt cheer clearly for either man, a mixture of noises that start sounding like people yelling āAvondaā in two different tones. Neither man in the ring seems to be paying much mind to the braying crowd, much more focused on the opponent that stands before them. As Tsonda and Avalon begin to measure each other up, getting a feel for the third time in the past few months, neither man seems willing to make the first move. They slowly circle, each man looking for an opportunity, an opening.
Nick Stuart: You have to wonder if this new fatherhood is going to cause us to see a more careful and cautioā¦
Nick Stuart cannot finish his curious thought of the impacts of Aoi, Avalonās new childās arrival into the world, because Coral Avalon has already decided to go for it, rushing towards Tsonda with a bit of malicious intent in his eyes. Coral builds speed and moment, lifting his boot high with the Rhongomyniad. Tsonda is ready for it, and as if mirroring Avalonās Almasy match with Cecilworth Farthington, the champion side steps Avalon quick and quickly punts at the outstretched leg. Avalon immediately winces in pain as he hits the ropes, using the ropes to secure his footing. He doesnāt have enough time to turn and face back to Tsonda though, as Tsonda is already right behind him. Tsonda grabs Avalon at the waist, hooking his arms around him nice and tight and rolls backwards, taking The Crownless King with him, in a sort of German Suplex/roll-up combination. Jimmy Turnbull immediately snaps into action as Tsonda leans further back, putting as much pressure on Avalon as he can.
ONE!
TWO!
Itās less of a kickout situation, and more an āAvalon outstretches his good leg and manages to kick Tsonda in his beautiful faceā deal. Tsonda lets go of the pinning combination as he tends to his very valuable face, while Avalon rolls around until heās back on his feet. Quite angry at the whole ābeing kicked in the faceā thing, itās Tsondaās turn to rush towards his opponent. Tsonda smashes a forceful elbow right into the side of Avalonās neck. Avalon doesnāt much appreciate this, and returns the gift right back to the original owner. The two men continue this gift exchange for twenty seconds as the Superdome crowd continue to bray madly, as if bloodlust had taken over the entire arena.
Nick Stuart: Knowing the twenty seven minute time limit, I was expecting these men to take it easy and play a more cerebral game in the early moments, but no, they are beating the holy hell out of each other.
Richard Parker: Itās high stakes, Avalon wants to prove to himself that heās still got it, with his days in the industry ticking down. For Tsonda, his Colossus streak is very personal and very meaningful. He does not want to see perfection been torn away from him by the hands of Coral Avalon.
As the elbow slam continues in the middle of the ring, Jimmy Turnbull glances at the PRIME*View to see the clock has already ticked its way down to twenty three minutes. The elbowy stalemate is broken when Tsonda tries to go after Avalonās weakened leg again but Avalon is just fast enough to dodge and slip behind Tsonda, pulling him down with a school boy roll-up.
ONE!
TWO!
Tsonda breaks free of this pinning predicament with force, rolling straight through. Tsonda takes a quick glance at the clock himself and this mere moment of distraction creates enough of an opening for The Crownless King to immediately take back control of the situation, slamming an uppercut straight into the side of Tsonda. Tsonda wobbles but remains on his feet and immediately shifts the momentum again as he catches enough of an opening to drop Avalon with a Runway Vault. Avalon goes down to the mat and Tsonda scrambles at The Crownless Kingās feet, crossing them over on a four-like configuration, flipping over and trapping Coral in a very dangerous pinning predicament. The audience can see Coral trying to wriggle free :by Tsonda keeps control, putting Avalonās shoulders firmly on the mat.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Nick Stuart: Seven minutes into this match and Chandler Tsonda has scored the first fall! He locked Avalon in tight and you have to wonder if Tsonda put pressure on that leg due to the opening created right at the start of the match. He has to know Coralās not one hundred percent in the leg department.
Richard Parker: I have no idea why Tsonda isnāt going for the arm after what our beloved Cecilworth Farthington did to Avalon at the last show.
Nick Stuart: Well, I was reliably informed by this note that Bobby Dean left on my desk that āCoralās arm is good now because coldā.
Richard Parker: Maybe they shouldāve thought of the leg too.
Jimmy Turnbull confirms the fall, and a counter on the PRIME*View shows that Chandler Tsonda has one fall to Avalonās current goose egg, with twenty minutes still on the clock. Tsonda breaks the trapped pin, as Turnbull forces both men to step back and reset in their respective corners.
Nick Stuart: Jimmy Turnbullās officiating here allows both men to catch their breaths a little and now perhaps weāll see the contest slowing downā¦
As if on cue, and maybe it is on cue, maybe Coral can hear Nick Stuart in his ear, he once again rushes straight into the battle with an attempted Rhongomyniad. This time is different from the first, perhaps because Tsonda was, for the briefest of moments, once again looking at the timer and falls display on the PRIME*View. That passing glance was just enough that he did not see The Blue Man rush towards him once more, and for his sins, gets tattooed with a boot straight across his face. Thereās no āwobbling but uprightā this time, as Tsonda immediately collapses to the mat in a big human heap. Itās Avalonās turn to grab at the legs, as instead of a lateral press pin, Avalon hoists Tsondaās feet right up in the air and jacknife pins the man.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Nick Stuart: And just as quickly, Coral Avalon has clawed this one back to even. I donāt know where he got the energy for that one.
Richard Parker: New child exhaustion is one of the most powerful drugs known to man. Iāve heard it even drives some people to such levels of madness that they just keep generating Chandler Tsonda movie posters.
Nick Stuart: The act of the truly deranged. Coral Avalon certainly seems to be looking in that category right now.
Satisfied that he managed to even up the score, Coral releases the pinning hold, but as he gets back up to his feet, itās clear that heās hobbled and is hobbling off the back of the yakuza kick he just generously donated to the Numbers Donāt Lie championās face. For Tsondaās part, he scoots over to the corner of the ring and uses the turnbuckles to pull himself back up. Both men are ready for the third fall of this contest, with eighteen minutes still on the clock. Both men also seem to have a clear, steely determination in their eyes. As the men return to battle in the middle of the squared circle, Tsonda has come up with a new approach, sneaking in low kicks to Avalonās weakened thigh, Avalon manages to block a few, but not enough in terms of avoiding shooting agony up his body. With every thwack of contact, you can see The Crownless King visibly wince, which only encourages Tsonda to further his attack.
Nick Stuart: Like a bloodhound, the defending champion has sniffed out Coral Avalonās weakness and heās taking full advantage of the situation.
Richard Parker: Think about it from Tsondaās perspective, itās not just his title thatās on the line tonight, his Colossus legacy. Do you think he wants to see that all evaporate in the Superdomeā¦ TO A BANDIT. You want to give up your legacy and legitimacy to all of thatā¦
With the force of the kicks, Tsonda has managed to back Avalon right back into the corner and Avalonās defenses get progressively weaker the more that the pain takes over. Thereās no special cryogenic freezer under the Colossus ring for Avalon to miraculously heal with, so he slowly slumps down, falling back against the turnbuckles. Tsonda continues to go for it, the speed and force of the kicks ever increasing as Avalonās face paints the picture of a man in pure agony. Jimmy Turnbull intervenes, guiding Tsonda away from Avalon in the rope, he doesnāt even have to start a count as The Model Citizen immediately steps back to create space between himself and Avalon. Avalon isnāt quite as honorable as Tsonda though, itās the Bandit in him, so as the opening is created from Turnbullās intervention, Avalon finds the power to leap up and land a dropkick right into Tsondaās gut. Both men go down, but itās Avalon who looks the worse for it, now clutching his bad leg and internally screaming. Externally too, probably, but itās hard to hear because of the wall of noise that the Superdome has been making for the past fourteen minutes since the bell rang.
Nick Stuart: You have to imagine that Coral Avalon is feeling a great frustration right now, it was that very leg that let him down against Farthington, it created the opening for the Article 50ā¦ and now he knows that Tsonda knows.
Richard Parker: Exactly, we know that he knows that he now knows.
Nick Stuart: Is someone in the row behind us toasting something?
Richard Parker: Bobby was already sent to the back, remember?
As Nick Stuart questions whether he just had a stroke or not, the action in the Number Donāt Lie title bout further. Clutching at his gut, Tsonda grabs Avalon and pulls him back up, placing the dazed and weakened Crownless King dead in the middle of the ring. Tsonda quickly glances at the clock and sees that twelve minutes remain, both men at one a piece. He doesnāt want to settle for a tie though, he wants a clear win. With that in mind, he rushes into the ropes and barrels right towards Avalon, in a bit of a shock to the crowd, Tsonda lifts his boot high, looking for his own Rhongomyniad, the very move that cost him moments ago in the match. Another curiosity happens at this moment, as Avalon manages to catch Tsondaās boot before he could gather much momentum. In a fit of desperation, Avalon pulls The Model Citizen in, lifts him up with a scoop slam, and drills his skull straight into the mat. With the last of his current energy, Avalon falls on top of Tsonda in the follow-through, and Turnbull sees that Tsondaās tshoulders are down.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
The crowd roars once more, the wall of noise still not declaring their loyalty or allegiance to either man. The counter on the PRIME*View shows that with eleven minutes left, Coral Avalon is up two to one.
Nick Stuart: Didā¦ did Coral just hit Tsonda with Danny Fergusonās Box Office Bomb? Where the hell did that come from?
Richard Parker: When you are in the ring with one of the best scouts in the industry, you have to go in a different direction to catch him off guard and Coral Avalon certainly did just that.
Nick Stuart: Heās a man with history and form for stealing otherās moves but itās been utilised to perfect here tonight and has brought him one step closer to winning the Alias title and the rubber match.
Coral Avalon sort of flops off of Tsonda as Jimmy Turnbull confirms it was a three count. In the middle of the ring, The Model Citizen is seeing stars, just not the kind that he would prefer. Both men clearly are looking for that last rush of adrenaline as they let their bodyās rest against the mat for a few moments. After both men have been down for long enough, Jimmy Turnbull is left with no choice but to begin a count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Avalon is the first to stir, as he crawls toward the ring ropes belly first as if he was an army commando. Tsonda still looks very dead from the whole ābeing dropped on his skull with the move of a former comradeā deal, his head rolling as he tries to chase the birds floating above him away.
FOUR!
FIVE!
Coral finally reaches the right side of the ring and begins to use the ring ropes as a support crutch to get back to his feet. He hobbles towards Tsonda, who has just stirred back into life and sees the man who tried to murder his skull moving closer to him once more. Deciding he wants no part of that in this exact moment of time, Tsonda begins to roll out of the ring, sliding off the apron and back to his feet. Coral knows in his current condition that itās probably not wise to follow him to the outside, which means Tsonda has created a great deal of space to enable him to clear his head.
Nick Stuart: Both these men came to fight, itās not just a championship on the line, itās their pride too and that has caused neither man to let up since the bell rang. I think weāre finally seeing the signs of the pace, as both men are clearly running on fumes at this point.
Richard Parker: Do you think Tsonda has a Brain Wash guy on speed dial? That could really shift the momentum of this match.
As Tsonda hears Jimmy Turnbull count to three, he remains on the outside. He looks once more to the PRIME*View and the events that just happened finally sink in for him. He knows heās down. A mixture of panic and adrenaline wash over Tsonda as he quickly slides back into the ring at the count of five. With eight minutes remaining in the match, he has little time to act. Avalon tries to cut off Tsondaās return to the ring, but Tsonda acts first as Avalon hobbles towards him, hitting Avalonās weakened thigh with a full force headbutt. This sends Avalon backing up, giving Tsonda space to get back into the battle. Avalon tries to stay on an even base but the pain is too much and he falls to one knee, the agony of the situation in full display on his face. Tsonda winds up a massive kick and slams it right into the kneeling Kingās crown in such a manner that it is very clear he did not appreciate the Box Office Bomb reference from his opponent. For a surprising moment, Avalon remains on his knees, trying to absorb the blow but no matter how much time heās spent in the cold, the body will always surprise you, and no matter how much you want to stay on your knees, sometimes it decides that it would rather you fall face first into the mat.
Nick Stuart: Thereās a renewed energy from Tsonda here. He knows heās behind, he knows the sands of time are ticking away. He knows his Colossus streak could disappear. All of these emotions have led him to kicking Coral Avalon right in the skull.
Richard Parker: Certainly it was a powerful kick, but itās not like he had a small target to hit here.
With Avalon splayed on the mat, Tsonda knows there is no time at all for showboating as he leaps in a fluid and beautiful manner, straight to the top rope. He positions himself carefully, looking back to ensure that Coral Avalon is exactly where he wants him to be as he launches himself off from the top. The Model Citizen lands on top of the fallen Avalon withā¦ wellā¦ The Model Citizen. Tsonda reaches heights unthought of with the moonsault, as with the grace of a gymnast, he flips over and crushes Avalonās ribs and guts. He manages to reach out and grab Avalonās leg, rolling over the top and putting his weight once more on Avalonās shoulders as Jimmy Turnbull drops to count once more.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
The crowd is just a white hot sphere of noise in the Superdome at this point, no gods, no masters, only numbers that do not lie. A small hint of relief is seen upon Tsondaās face as he looks over and sees the scoreboard update to two falls each.
Nick Stuart: I donāt think Iāve seens a Model Citizen be hit better in my entire career, that was perfection. Chandler Tsonda dug deep in a moment of crisis and heās managed to get this match back to even.
Richard Parker: You can see it in Tsondaās eyes though, he doesnāt want to tsettle for this moment to end in a tie. He wants to put the final exclamation mark on this battle with Avalon. Will he be able to do it? Weāre running out of time.
Finding energy from an unknown source, Tsonda leaps back up to his feet and rushes towards the ropes once more, looking to put an end to this battle with a second consecutive Model Citizen. Jimmy Turnbull has abandoned trying to keep the clean breaks between falls when both menās limbs began to fall apart. Tsonda takes one look behind him to ensure that Coral Avalon is still very much Corpsal Avalon. He then quickly looks and the PRIME*View, crosses himself and leaps high into the sky once more. With two minutes left on the clock, Tsonda looks to tsmash all of Avalonās insides once more.
Unfortunately for Tsonda, The Crownless King has decided that no longer having functioning legs is a risk he is willing to take to win this battle. Avalon manages to get his knees up and Tsondaās perfect arc lands straight into the knees.
Nick Stuart: That obsession with the clock has cost Tsonda multiple times in the match now. Although, despite Avalonās defenses, he once again looks to be in tremendous pain.
Richard Parker: Tsonda has a lot of emotional connection to needing this win and that has to be driving his frame of mind right now, he wasnāt that Colossus record to remain unblemished. As for Coral, that was raw wrestler instinct getting those knees up, he definitely didnāt calculate the damage.
As both men are once more splayed flat on the mat, the clock continues to count down. The match is no longer a matter of minutes, it is a matter of seconds. Tsonda tries to get back up and into the fight, but he finds a small problem.
Somehow, some way, Coral Avalon has managed to get wrist control of the situation and we all know the power of wrist control. As Tsonda tries to stand, Coral pulls him in close with one arm, punching his hobbled leg and trying to bring it back to ring with the other. Tsonda tries to break free but the strength to do so is proving challenging as the clock runs down. Knowing this is the last shot to make a move, Avalon grits through the pain and manages to lock Tsonda in Vortigernās Pillory. Itās clear the move is not locked in as tightly as it normally would be, the twenty six minutes of agony is to thank for this. As he tries to break free, Tsonda positions himself in a manner that he can clearly see the clock. With fifty three seconds left, he rolls his shoulder, weakly kicking at Avalon.
Nick Stuart: Avalon has the Pillory but thereās no time left!
Richard Parker: I have to agree with the crowd right now when they say āphrawgwargwar ruahhhhā
Avalon closes his eyes, perhaps imagining little Aoi, as he digs deep into his very soul for one last second in the mat, with all the power left in his body, he manages to lock Vortigernās Pillory in tight, using his good leg to encourage Tsonda to tsubmit with boots to the skull. Tsonda has never felt pain quite like his limbs are currently experiencing. He looks at the clock and tries to work out if with forty seconds left, he can gut this whole thing out.
Nick Stuart: I donāt know where Coral Avalon has found this final gear but will it be enough?
Richard Parker: OH NO! I JUST REMEMBERED HEāS A BANDIT! STAY IN THIS TSONDA! YOU CAN STILL DO IT!
Tsonda can clearly see there are thirty seconds left when all of his limbs begin to feel like they are on fire. As he sees it go to twenty five, he decides that perhaps a lifetime of surgeries is not the best long term call. With agony in his heart, he signals a tap to Jimmy Turnbull with twenty five seconds left on the clock. Avalon immediately lets go of the hold and collapses once more into a blue heap.
Fifteen seconds are left as Tsonda nurses his very injured arm, but thatās when he notices that there is no more life to Coral Avalon. He scratches and claws his way over to Avalonā¦
With ten seconds left, he reaches his downed opponent and tries to think of what he can do, anything he can do to protect his championship. He decides to limply throw an arm on top of Avalon, and as Jimmy Turnbull checks the shoulders, Tsonda can no longer see the clock.
He cannot see that there are only two seconds left.
ONE!
TWO!
DING DING DING
A shocked Tsonda, expecting to hear a three count but instead sees Jimmy Turnbull walk over to Vince Howard.
Vince Howard: The winner of this match in twenty seven minutes, at a score of three falls to twoā¦ AND NEWWWWWWWWWWWWWW ALIAS CHAMPIONā¦ āThe Crownless Kingā CORALLLL AVALONNNNNNN!
Avalon continues to be very much dead, as Jimmy Turnbull limply lifts the corpseās hand to denote victory. A shell shocked Tsonda can be seen staring at the PRIME*View, the counter reaching zero, the score confirming Vince Howardās announcements.
Nick Stuart: I cannot imagine that heartbreak that Chandler Tsonda is currently experiencing and in many moments, this was his match to win. Perhaps a lesson that putting too much stock into a legacy can be costly.
Richard Parker: NO NO NO! THAT WAS CLEARLY A THREE! THIS IS TIED! TIED! NO BANDITS WILL OWN BELTS! NO! UNACCEPTABLE!
As Richard Parker continues to shriek in terror at a Bandit controlling the Alias championship and what that may mean for the future, we see a final shock of a Chandler Tsonda, continue to unexpressively look at the PRIME*Views match score before we fade to commercial.
The lights in the Superdome dim as the PRIME*View lights up and the audience behold one of those machines they use to draw lotteries, with a selection of balls bouncing around inside, bumping off the edges.
Nick Stuart: Itās time for one of our two Colossus title bouts, and this one is major. Coral Avalon and Chandler Tsonda have been back and forth verbally and in the ring for the last few months, both of them have snatched a win from each other and tonight, with the Numbers Donāt Lie championship on the line, we have ourselves a rubber match.
Richard Parker: Iād complain where we got the budget for one of those machines but I have an inkling that it isnāt the most wasteful thing weāll see in the next few moments.
Nick Stuart: As my partner is alluding to, we are about to find out the number of minutes this contest will be for. A winner is declared by whoever gains the most falls in the time limit, like a randomly generated Iron Man match.
The balls continue to spin around until a ghost (maybe Doozer?) lifts the top of the machine and a small orange ball sides out to be centrally displayed. As the camera zooms in on the ball, we see that Avalon vs. Tsondaās rubber match will be contested forā¦
TWENTY SEVEN MINUTES
We cut to Vince Howard, who stands in the ring for his next announcement.
Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for the next twenty seven minutes, and it is for the Numbers Donāt Lie Championship!
RAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!
And then Vince Howard and the rest of the Superdome is cast into darkness
.
The darkness lasts a while, and the many people whoāve crowded into the Superdome for the first night of Colossus can be heard murmuring. When a song hit the PA system, it isnāt the usual song and dance for Coral Avalon. This one hits different. Because when the guitar hitsā¦ thereās chanting.
BAN-DITS!
Like a call from beyond. Like a carrion call that tugs on your soul and makes Bobby Dean go from a fart to a shart. That isnāt AC/DCās āThunderstruckā. Thatās āBanditstruckā. The fans react with a mixture of cheering and boos, as this is definitely the arrival of Coral Avalonā¦ of the eGG Bandits.
BAN-DITS!
Two spotlights hit the entrance ramp. One man and one cardboard cutout strike poses. The man is, of course, the one and only Lunchbox Loquacious, and boy howdy is he not shutting up about actually being in front of this many people. The cardboard cutout, standing as menacingly as the day he was printed, is none other than Cardboard Dan Ryan. The camera continues walking forward past the two of them.
BAN-DITS!
Two more spotlights, further up. One spotlight seems to be cast upon nothing, but a closer inspection might reveal that familiar whiff of Boston and never giving up that is Doozer. Doozer invisibly flexes. The other spotlight is reserved for the Bandit-in-Training, Chris Chickentenders, whoā¦ doesnāt really want to be here for this particular entrance, and instead stands there as though required by law.
They didnāt even let him have his cell phone, this sucks. Everything sucks.
BAN-DITS!
Finally, one more spotlight.
This one is reserved for the Captain himself. The eGGsecutioner. The Beautiful Man from Honalee. āBeautifulā Bobby Dean. He has a bag of Doritos and seems somewhat surprised to find cameras upon him and a spotlight shining down on him.
BAN-DITS!
The camera moves past him, and to the main entryway. There, lights come up on stage, revealingā¦
ā¦revealingā¦
Hey, Richard? Can you give me your hottest take right now?
Richard Parker: ā¦what the fuck is that abomination?
Cool.
Hey guys. So, uhā¦ donāt look now, but thereās a giant forehead on the stage.
And no, weāre not even talking about Coral Avalon himself yet.
The forehead is a round construct just big enough to be considered a small building like a shed. When the spotlight hits it, it becomes clear that itās built from cheap materials. Very cheap materials. Even the blonde āhairā looks like itās made from construction paper.
The forehead lingers for a long moment before it collapses in on itself, as though it canāt sustain its own weight. Like the cracking of an egg. āBanditstruckā stops, and the opening notes of Monster Sirenās āReal Meā replaces it.
Within the forehead is a throne. Of course there is, why wouldnāt there be a throne?
Itās white with red cushions. Swords are crudely adorned along the top, like the worldās most shit Iron Throne. For some reason, and this seems very out of place, there is a doll of King Crumb himself hanging out at the top of the throne. As though Jiles is here in spirit, because God forbid that he ever shows up on Night One of a pay-per-view.
It sits on a silver platform about four feet high, with a set of stairs descending downward. From there, a single man sits upon the throne with his legs crossed. Dressed in his leonine cloak worn over an electric blue jumpsuit, the man known as the Crownless King has appeared in his former hometown of New Orleans.
After a lengthy pause, Avalon rises from his seat and slowly walks down the stairs. His steps are deliberate, as though afraid he might trip over something and look very foolish. When the guitars of the song hit, the entryway becomes an inferno of fire as pyrotechnics and flames rise up from either side of the entrance. After a pause, Avalon makes his march towards the ring.
Vince Howard: Introducing first, the challengerā¦ currently residing in Seattle, Washington! He weighs in tonight at two hundred and fourteen pounds! HE IS HARD BOILED! HE IS THE CROWNLESS KING! THE ACE OF THE EGG BANDITS! THIS! IS! CORAAAAAALLLLLL! AVALOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNN!!!
When Coral reaches āBeautifulā Bobby Dean, the man who is now the Captain of the Bandits glides into a waddling flank behind the Crownless King. Then, when Coral passes by who we think is Doozer and the apathetic Chris Chickentenders, they too fall into line behind Avalon. The same happens with Lunchbox Lorne and Cardboard Dan Ryan, and we wonāt get into how CBD can fall in line with this motley crew thatās accompanying the Crownless King. He just does, and we all have to accept that fact in this dark and cruel world.
Richard Parker: What a serious, serious downgrade from those Crownless Kingdom bozos that he was hanging out with a couple of months ago. I already didnāt like Avalon, but associating him with these clowns puts him on my shit list.
Nick Stuart: He just became a father two days ago, so you have to think his emotions are running high tonight.
Richard Parker: Oh, god, this guyās kid is going to grow up with Cancer Jiles in their life. I wouldnāt wish that on my worst enemy. Which, to be fair, is Jiles himself. Can you imagine a reality where Cancer Jiles has to grow up with another Cancer Jiles in his life? Jesus God. Thatās a reality that canāt happen.
Nick Stuart: Donāt say that too loud, Anna Daniels might hear you.
When Avalon reaches the ring, he doesnāt enter right away. Instead, he walks around the ring to the side of the hard cam. The Bandits line up in front of the apron, while Avalon hops up onto the ring apron and turns to face the camera with his back to the ropes. With all of the Bandits trying their best to look cool, Avalon throws up both fists in the air with the pinky and ring fingers out. Pyro shoots out of the ring posts as he does.
Avalon steps into the ring and climbs up onto the nearest set of turnbuckles to bask in the cheers of the crowd. He may be a Bandit, yes, but even Banditry canāt stop this very impressive pro wrestler from catching the cheers of his fans. The cheers of his kingdom, tens of thousands strong.
A Bandit though he may be, he is still a King. But will this King leave with another jewel for the crown he still doesnāt have?
He removes the cloak and unzips the jumpsuit, and awaits his opponent. When you dim the lights on the Superdome, itās still pretty well light. But that audio system? Hoowhee, sucker.
In the dusky light, over the next thirty sections, the main sensation is the tremble of unfamiliar music.
Synth horns.
I feel big, you know what I mean?
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
When you dim the lights on the Superdome, and then you play their native son, Lilā Wayne? Quadruple hoowhee, sucker.
Wayneās snap crackle of a voice continues the spoken intro to āMr. Carter.ā
Like not-not big in the sense of weight, you know what I mean?
Bring in the hi hats.
Like gaininā weight or nothinā like that, like COLOSSAL
And now you see what he did there.
Drop the drums.
Like, know what I mean, like
I heard you were lookinā for me
And then āMr. Carterā cuts. A strange transition into a familiar ambient hum.
Up on the PRIME*View, we see a pre-tape ofā¦.
Nick Stuart: Looks like someone may have called in a heck of a celebrity favor!
ā¦the real Lilā Wayne, not just the track. Itās clearly pre-taped, but it doesnāt matter. New Awlins own is greeted with utter uproar.
And as he appears, the PA system kicks up that bittersweet violin. The drone buzz echo in the backing track, along familiar words coming out of his mouth. He says only two lines before the video cuts out.
I said ākiss me youāre beautifulā
These are truly the last motherfuckinā days
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Richard Parker: This fucking guy never met a pop too cheap for him.
And thatās one way to pretty accurately encapsulate the Model Citizen.
The final music cue: frenetically strummed acoustic guitar. Ten seconds of crescendo in the crowd as they rise to a boil.
The drums arrive, as does the banshee shriek of the guitar, but itās all elementary at this point because at this volumeā¦
Nick Stuart: (yelling) I canāt hear myself think!
Exactly.
Vince Howard: Making his way to the ring, from San Diego, Californiaā¦
Thereās another fifteen seconds of rising electricity in Coheed and Cambriaās āWelcome Home.ā And yeah, the lights still havenāt come up.
But now they do.
Vince Howard: He weighs in at 187 pounds, and is the REIGNING AND DEFENDING Numbers Donāt Lie championā¦
The spotlight hits Chandler Tsonda, arms out to the sides, palms and eyes facing the top of the Superdome. Mind you, itās ripshit in terms of volume. Hooting and hollering happening in frightening but equal measure.
Richard Parker: We need an austerity movement in PRIME.
Vince Howard: HE IS THE MODEL CITIZEN! CHANNNNNNNNNNNNDLER TSOOOOOOONDAAAAAAAAA!
In his spotlight, he stands atop a colossus.
Nick Stuart: I admire the stars of PRIME for constantly finding new ways to surprise us. This isā¦certainly a surprise.
Tsonda stands atop a very specific colossus. He is in what appears to be the pilot seat(?) of a 20-foot tall Godzilla.
Richard Parker: Is he, likeā¦.sewed into that? Is it a mech? What am I evenā¦?
Without answering the question, Tsonda brings his eyes down and moves his arms forward. As he does, the Godzilla suit begins to rumble down the ramp.
Nick Stuart: Do you think this is more Monarch: Legacy of Monsters or Godzilla Minus Zero?
Richard Parker: Heās definitely a zero, you got that right.
Some marvel of engineering, the Godzilla suit has Tsonda standing within, but still able to control it, like a highly tuned pair of stilts within the suit that Ripley wore at the end of Alien. Amidst the raucous cheering, there is some awed silence at the panache among fans as Chanzilla moves by them.
Richard Parker: Praying for Mothra to deliver us from this.
Tsonda takes his sweet ass time, soaking in the sound that occurs at a place and time like Colossus. Maybe only at Colossus.
The Godzilla suit reaches just outside the ring apron.
Nick Stuart: Dismounting from this will be interesting for the self-proclaimed king of Colossus.
It is.
Because Chandler Tsonda can not ever help himself.
And the guy is addicted to flashbulbs.
Proving that he wasnāt sewn into the seat, the Sultan of Style leaps from his spot atop the monster, flipping forward over 360 degrees as he plunges towards the ring.
Thatāll get you flashbulbs.
And with a flourish, Tsonda then lands on his feet on the near side of the ring, to one final spout of audience madness.
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Tsonda taps a fist against his chest twice, and points out at crowd, particularly up at the cheap seats. The message is clear: I got you.
Nick Stuart: Nobody on the roster has fought more times at Colossus than Chandler Tsonda, and here he shows rare emotion.
TSON-DA! TSON-DA! TSON-DA!
On the outside, four tech guys work on transporting Godzilla back up the ramp. Colossus is a team sport.
And then, the moment passes across the face of the Model Citizen. He nods and does prayer hands to the crowd one final time. He mouths something indecipherable, and then turns towards Jimmy Turnbull. His expression is deadly serious, and he stares straight ahead. Itās time. After performing the final checks on both men and making sure that the throne, giant skull and Godzilla are safely out of the arena, Turnbull looks towards the Bandit army at ringside with a degree of curiosity, as does Tsonda.
Avalon catches the eyes of most of the Bandits, apart from Chickentenders of course, because heās sliding his fingers all up and down his telephone device. Avalon gives a single nod to The Captain, Bobby Dean, who guides his wayward Bandits backstage, to watch this contest from afar.
Satisfied that the final checks are done, Turnbull presents the Numbers Donāt Lie championship to both men and signals for the bell, causing an uproar in noise.
DING DING
Nick Stuart: Who you got in this one?
Richard Parker: The one true hero of this entire situation, proper budgetary control.
As the bell rings, and the fans recover from two completely batshit entrances, thereās a wall of noise that engulfs the Superdome. The crowd doesnāt cheer clearly for either man, a mixture of noises that start sounding like people yelling āAvondaā in two different tones. Neither man in the ring seems to be paying much mind to the braying crowd, much more focused on the opponent that stands before them. As Tsonda and Avalon begin to measure each other up, getting a feel for the third time in the past few months, neither man seems willing to make the first move. They slowly circle, each man looking for an opportunity, an opening.
Nick Stuart: You have to wonder if this new fatherhood is going to cause us to see a more careful and cautioā¦
Nick Stuart cannot finish his curious thought of the impacts of Aoi, Avalonās new childās arrival into the world, because Coral Avalon has already decided to go for it, rushing towards Tsonda with a bit of malicious intent in his eyes. Coral builds speed and moment, lifting his boot high with the Rhongomyniad. Tsonda is ready for it, and as if mirroring Avalonās Almasy match with Cecilworth Farthington, the champion side steps Avalon quick and quickly punts at the outstretched leg. Avalon immediately winces in pain as he hits the ropes, using the ropes to secure his footing. He doesnāt have enough time to turn and face back to Tsonda though, as Tsonda is already right behind him. Tsonda grabs Avalon at the waist, hooking his arms around him nice and tight and rolls backwards, taking The Crownless King with him, in a sort of German Suplex/roll-up combination. Jimmy Turnbull immediately snaps into action as Tsonda leans further back, putting as much pressure on Avalon as he can.
ONE!
TWO!
Itās less of a kickout situation, and more an āAvalon outstretches his good leg and manages to kick Tsonda in his beautiful faceā deal. Tsonda lets go of the pinning combination as he tends to his very valuable face, while Avalon rolls around until heās back on his feet. Quite angry at the whole ābeing kicked in the faceā thing, itās Tsondaās turn to rush towards his opponent. Tsonda smashes a forceful elbow right into the side of Avalonās neck. Avalon doesnāt much appreciate this, and returns the gift right back to the original owner. The two men continue this gift exchange for twenty seconds as the Superdome crowd continue to bray madly, as if bloodlust had taken over the entire arena.
Nick Stuart: Knowing the twenty seven minute time limit, I was expecting these men to take it easy and play a more cerebral game in the early moments, but no, they are beating the holy hell out of each other.
Richard Parker: Itās high stakes, Avalon wants to prove to himself that heās still got it, with his days in the industry ticking down. For Tsonda, his Colossus streak is very personal and very meaningful. He does not want to see perfection been torn away from him by the hands of Coral Avalon.
As the elbow slam continues in the middle of the ring, Jimmy Turnbull glances at the PRIME*View to see the clock has already ticked its way down to twenty three minutes. The elbowy stalemate is broken when Tsonda tries to go after Avalonās weakened leg again but Avalon is just fast enough to dodge and slip behind Tsonda, pulling him down with a school boy roll-up.
ONE!
TWO!
Tsonda breaks free of this pinning predicament with force, rolling straight through. Tsonda takes a quick glance at the clock himself and this mere moment of distraction creates enough of an opening for The Crownless King to immediately take back control of the situation, slamming an uppercut straight into the side of Tsonda. Tsonda wobbles but remains on his feet and immediately shifts the momentum again as he catches enough of an opening to drop Avalon with a Runway Vault. Avalon goes down to the mat and Tsonda scrambles at The Crownless Kingās feet, crossing them over on a four-like configuration, flipping over and trapping Coral in a very dangerous pinning predicament. The audience can see Coral trying to wriggle free :by Tsonda keeps control, putting Avalonās shoulders firmly on the mat.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Nick Stuart: Seven minutes into this match and Chandler Tsonda has scored the first fall! He locked Avalon in tight and you have to wonder if Tsonda put pressure on that leg due to the opening created right at the start of the match. He has to know Coralās not one hundred percent in the leg department.
Richard Parker: I have no idea why Tsonda isnāt going for the arm after what our beloved Cecilworth Farthington did to Avalon at the last show.
Nick Stuart: Well, I was reliably informed by this note that Bobby Dean left on my desk that āCoralās arm is good now because coldā.
Richard Parker: Maybe they shouldāve thought of the leg too.
Jimmy Turnbull confirms the fall, and a counter on the PRIME*View shows that Chandler Tsonda has one fall to Avalonās current goose egg, with twenty minutes still on the clock. Tsonda breaks the trapped pin, as Turnbull forces both men to step back and reset in their respective corners.
Nick Stuart: Jimmy Turnbullās officiating here allows both men to catch their breaths a little and now perhaps weāll see the contest slowing downā¦
As if on cue, and maybe it is on cue, maybe Coral can hear Nick Stuart in his ear, he once again rushes straight into the battle with an attempted Rhongomyniad. This time is different from the first, perhaps because Tsonda was, for the briefest of moments, once again looking at the timer and falls display on the PRIME*View. That passing glance was just enough that he did not see The Blue Man rush towards him once more, and for his sins, gets tattooed with a boot straight across his face. Thereās no āwobbling but uprightā this time, as Tsonda immediately collapses to the mat in a big human heap. Itās Avalonās turn to grab at the legs, as instead of a lateral press pin, Avalon hoists Tsondaās feet right up in the air and jacknife pins the man.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Nick Stuart: And just as quickly, Coral Avalon has clawed this one back to even. I donāt know where he got the energy for that one.
Richard Parker: New child exhaustion is one of the most powerful drugs known to man. Iāve heard it even drives some people to such levels of madness that they just keep generating Chandler Tsonda movie posters.
Nick Stuart: The act of the truly deranged. Coral Avalon certainly seems to be looking in that category right now.
Satisfied that he managed to even up the score, Coral releases the pinning hold, but as he gets back up to his feet, itās clear that heās hobbled and is hobbling off the back of the yakuza kick he just generously donated to the Numbers Donāt Lie championās face. For Tsondaās part, he scoots over to the corner of the ring and uses the turnbuckles to pull himself back up. Both men are ready for the third fall of this contest, with eighteen minutes still on the clock. Both men also seem to have a clear, steely determination in their eyes. As the men return to battle in the middle of the squared circle, Tsonda has come up with a new approach, sneaking in low kicks to Avalonās weakened thigh, Avalon manages to block a few, but not enough in terms of avoiding shooting agony up his body. With every thwack of contact, you can see The Crownless King visibly wince, which only encourages Tsonda to further his attack.
Nick Stuart: Like a bloodhound, the defending champion has sniffed out Coral Avalonās weakness and heās taking full advantage of the situation.
Richard Parker: Think about it from Tsondaās perspective, itās not just his title thatās on the line tonight, his Colossus legacy. Do you think he wants to see that all evaporate in the Superdomeā¦ TO A BANDIT. You want to give up your legacy and legitimacy to all of thatā¦
With the force of the kicks, Tsonda has managed to back Avalon right back into the corner and Avalonās defenses get progressively weaker the more that the pain takes over. Thereās no special cryogenic freezer under the Colossus ring for Avalon to miraculously heal with, so he slowly slumps down, falling back against the turnbuckles. Tsonda continues to go for it, the speed and force of the kicks ever increasing as Avalonās face paints the picture of a man in pure agony. Jimmy Turnbull intervenes, guiding Tsonda away from Avalon in the rope, he doesnāt even have to start a count as The Model Citizen immediately steps back to create space between himself and Avalon. Avalon isnāt quite as honorable as Tsonda though, itās the Bandit in him, so as the opening is created from Turnbullās intervention, Avalon finds the power to leap up and land a dropkick right into Tsondaās gut. Both men go down, but itās Avalon who looks the worse for it, now clutching his bad leg and internally screaming. Externally too, probably, but itās hard to hear because of the wall of noise that the Superdome has been making for the past fourteen minutes since the bell rang.
Nick Stuart: You have to imagine that Coral Avalon is feeling a great frustration right now, it was that very leg that let him down against Farthington, it created the opening for the Article 50ā¦ and now he knows that Tsonda knows.
Richard Parker: Exactly, we know that he knows that he now knows.
Nick Stuart: Is someone in the row behind us toasting something?
Richard Parker: Bobby was already sent to the back, remember?
As Nick Stuart questions whether he just had a stroke or not, the action in the Number Donāt Lie title bout further. Clutching at his gut, Tsonda grabs Avalon and pulls him back up, placing the dazed and weakened Crownless King dead in the middle of the ring. Tsonda quickly glances at the clock and sees that twelve minutes remain, both men at one a piece. He doesnāt want to settle for a tie though, he wants a clear win. With that in mind, he rushes into the ropes and barrels right towards Avalon, in a bit of a shock to the crowd, Tsonda lifts his boot high, looking for his own Rhongomyniad, the very move that cost him moments ago in the match. Another curiosity happens at this moment, as Avalon manages to catch Tsondaās boot before he could gather much momentum. In a fit of desperation, Avalon pulls The Model Citizen in, lifts him up with a scoop slam, and drills his skull straight into the mat. With the last of his current energy, Avalon falls on top of Tsonda in the follow-through, and Turnbull sees that Tsondaās tshoulders are down.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
The crowd roars once more, the wall of noise still not declaring their loyalty or allegiance to either man. The counter on the PRIME*View shows that with eleven minutes left, Coral Avalon is up two to one.
Nick Stuart: Didā¦ did Coral just hit Tsonda with Danny Fergusonās Box Office Bomb? Where the hell did that come from?
Richard Parker: When you are in the ring with one of the best scouts in the industry, you have to go in a different direction to catch him off guard and Coral Avalon certainly did just that.
Nick Stuart: Heās a man with history and form for stealing otherās moves but itās been utilised to perfect here tonight and has brought him one step closer to winning the Alias title and the rubber match.
Coral Avalon sort of flops off of Tsonda as Jimmy Turnbull confirms it was a three count. In the middle of the ring, The Model Citizen is seeing stars, just not the kind that he would prefer. Both men clearly are looking for that last rush of adrenaline as they let their bodyās rest against the mat for a few moments. After both men have been down for long enough, Jimmy Turnbull is left with no choice but to begin a count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Avalon is the first to stir, as he crawls toward the ring ropes belly first as if he was an army commando. Tsonda still looks very dead from the whole ābeing dropped on his skull with the move of a former comradeā deal, his head rolling as he tries to chase the birds floating above him away.
FOUR!
FIVE!
Coral finally reaches the right side of the ring and begins to use the ring ropes as a support crutch to get back to his feet. He hobbles towards Tsonda, who has just stirred back into life and sees the man who tried to murder his skull moving closer to him once more. Deciding he wants no part of that in this exact moment of time, Tsonda begins to roll out of the ring, sliding off the apron and back to his feet. Coral knows in his current condition that itās probably not wise to follow him to the outside, which means Tsonda has created a great deal of space to enable him to clear his head.
Nick Stuart: Both these men came to fight, itās not just a championship on the line, itās their pride too and that has caused neither man to let up since the bell rang. I think weāre finally seeing the signs of the pace, as both men are clearly running on fumes at this point.
Richard Parker: Do you think Tsonda has a Brain Wash guy on speed dial? That could really shift the momentum of this match.
As Tsonda hears Jimmy Turnbull count to three, he remains on the outside. He looks once more to the PRIME*View and the events that just happened finally sink in for him. He knows heās down. A mixture of panic and adrenaline wash over Tsonda as he quickly slides back into the ring at the count of five. With eight minutes remaining in the match, he has little time to act. Avalon tries to cut off Tsondaās return to the ring, but Tsonda acts first as Avalon hobbles towards him, hitting Avalonās weakened thigh with a full force headbutt. This sends Avalon backing up, giving Tsonda space to get back into the battle. Avalon tries to stay on an even base but the pain is too much and he falls to one knee, the agony of the situation in full display on his face. Tsonda winds up a massive kick and slams it right into the kneeling Kingās crown in such a manner that it is very clear he did not appreciate the Box Office Bomb reference from his opponent. For a surprising moment, Avalon remains on his knees, trying to absorb the blow but no matter how much time heās spent in the cold, the body will always surprise you, and no matter how much you want to stay on your knees, sometimes it decides that it would rather you fall face first into the mat.
Nick Stuart: Thereās a renewed energy from Tsonda here. He knows heās behind, he knows the sands of time are ticking away. He knows his Colossus streak could disappear. All of these emotions have led him to kicking Coral Avalon right in the skull.
Richard Parker: Certainly it was a powerful kick, but itās not like he had a small target to hit here.
With Avalon splayed on the mat, Tsonda knows there is no time at all for showboating as he leaps in a fluid and beautiful manner, straight to the top rope. He positions himself carefully, looking back to ensure that Coral Avalon is exactly where he wants him to be as he launches himself off from the top. The Model Citizen lands on top of the fallen Avalon withā¦ wellā¦ The Model Citizen. Tsonda reaches heights unthought of with the moonsault, as with the grace of a gymnast, he flips over and crushes Avalonās ribs and guts. He manages to reach out and grab Avalonās leg, rolling over the top and putting his weight once more on Avalonās shoulders as Jimmy Turnbull drops to count once more.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
The crowd is just a white hot sphere of noise in the Superdome at this point, no gods, no masters, only numbers that do not lie. A small hint of relief is seen upon Tsondaās face as he looks over and sees the scoreboard update to two falls each.
Nick Stuart: I donāt think Iāve seens a Model Citizen be hit better in my entire career, that was perfection. Chandler Tsonda dug deep in a moment of crisis and heās managed to get this match back to even.
Richard Parker: You can see it in Tsondaās eyes though, he doesnāt want to tsettle for this moment to end in a tie. He wants to put the final exclamation mark on this battle with Avalon. Will he be able to do it? Weāre running out of time.
Finding energy from an unknown source, Tsonda leaps back up to his feet and rushes towards the ropes once more, looking to put an end to this battle with a second consecutive Model Citizen. Jimmy Turnbull has abandoned trying to keep the clean breaks between falls when both menās limbs began to fall apart. Tsonda takes one look behind him to ensure that Coral Avalon is still very much Corpsal Avalon. He then quickly looks and the PRIME*View, crosses himself and leaps high into the sky once more. With two minutes left on the clock, Tsonda looks to tsmash all of Avalonās insides once more.
Unfortunately for Tsonda, The Crownless King has decided that no longer having functioning legs is a risk he is willing to take to win this battle. Avalon manages to get his knees up and Tsondaās perfect arc lands straight into the knees.
Nick Stuart: That obsession with the clock has cost Tsonda multiple times in the match now. Although, despite Avalonās defenses, he once again looks to be in tremendous pain.
Richard Parker: Tsonda has a lot of emotional connection to needing this win and that has to be driving his frame of mind right now, he wasnāt that Colossus record to remain unblemished. As for Coral, that was raw wrestler instinct getting those knees up, he definitely didnāt calculate the damage.
As both men are once more splayed flat on the mat, the clock continues to count down. The match is no longer a matter of minutes, it is a matter of seconds. Tsonda tries to get back up and into the fight, but he finds a small problem.
Somehow, some way, Coral Avalon has managed to get wrist control of the situation and we all know the power of wrist control. As Tsonda tries to stand, Coral pulls him in close with one arm, punching his hobbled leg and trying to bring it back to ring with the other. Tsonda tries to break free but the strength to do so is proving challenging as the clock runs down. Knowing this is the last shot to make a move, Avalon grits through the pain and manages to lock Tsonda in Vortigernās Pillory. Itās clear the move is not locked in as tightly as it normally would be, the twenty six minutes of agony is to thank for this. As he tries to break free, Tsonda positions himself in a manner that he can clearly see the clock. With fifty three seconds left, he rolls his shoulder, weakly kicking at Avalon.
Nick Stuart: Avalon has the Pillory but thereās no time left!
Richard Parker: I have to agree with the crowd right now when they say āphrawgwargwar ruahhhhā
Avalon closes his eyes, perhaps imagining little Aoi, as he digs deep into his very soul for one last second in the mat, with all the power left in his body, he manages to lock Vortigernās Pillory in tight, using his good leg to encourage Tsonda to tsubmit with boots to the skull. Tsonda has never felt pain quite like his limbs are currently experiencing. He looks at the clock and tries to work out if with forty seconds left, he can gut this whole thing out.
Nick Stuart: I donāt know where Coral Avalon has found this final gear but will it be enough?
Richard Parker: OH NO! I JUST REMEMBERED HEāS A BANDIT! STAY IN THIS TSONDA! YOU CAN STILL DO IT!
Tsonda can clearly see there are thirty seconds left when all of his limbs begin to feel like they are on fire. As he sees it go to twenty five, he decides that perhaps a lifetime of surgeries is not the best long term call. With agony in his heart, he signals a tap to Jimmy Turnbull with twenty five seconds left on the clock. Avalon immediately lets go of the hold and collapses once more into a blue heap.
Fifteen seconds are left as Tsonda nurses his very injured arm, but thatās when he notices that there is no more life to Coral Avalon. He scratches and claws his way over to Avalonā¦
With ten seconds left, he reaches his downed opponent and tries to think of what he can do, anything he can do to protect his championship. He decides to limply throw an arm on top of Avalon, and as Jimmy Turnbull checks the shoulders, Tsonda can no longer see the clock.
He cannot see that there are only two seconds left.
ONE!
TWO!
DING DING DING
A shocked Tsonda, expecting to hear a three count but instead sees Jimmy Turnbull walk over to Vince Howard.
Vince Howard: The winner of this match in twenty seven minutes, at a score of three falls to twoā¦ AND NEWWWWWWWWWWWWWW ALIAS CHAMPIONā¦ āThe Crownless Kingā CORALLLL AVALONNNNNNN!
Avalon continues to be very much dead, as Jimmy Turnbull limply lifts the corpseās hand to denote victory. A shell shocked Tsonda can be seen staring at the PRIME*View, the counter reaching zero, the score confirming Vince Howardās announcements.
Nick Stuart: I cannot imagine that heartbreak that Chandler Tsonda is currently experiencing and in many moments, this was his match to win. Perhaps a lesson that putting too much stock into a legacy can be costly.
Richard Parker: NO NO NO! THAT WAS CLEARLY A THREE! THIS IS TIED! TIED! NO BANDITS WILL OWN BELTS! NO! UNACCEPTABLE!
As Richard Parker continues to shriek in terror at a Bandit controlling the Alias championship and what that may mean for the future, we see a final shock of a Chandler Tsonda, continue to unexpressively look at the PRIME*Views match score before we fade to commercial.
We return from commercial to the backstage area where Adam Ellis saunters down the hall with the echo of country music pulsing through his earbuds, blaring his favorite tune to drown out any distractions. Dressed in plain jeans and a worn-out T-shirt, he holds a non-alcoholic drink in his hand, enjoying every sip of the cool liquid. Taking in the Colossus show tonight as a non-participant, Adamās mind is at ease and he savors this fleeting moment of peace.
Ginny Van Lear: Adam! Adam!
Ginny Van Lear sprints towards him with an overwhelming look of excitement on her face, her red hair flying behind her. Her Appalachian accent punctuates every word, drawing attention from a passerby. Adam, not expecting to see her so worked up, pulls out one of his earbuds and gives her a questioning look.
Ginny Van Lear: Yāall have to see this!
Ginny breathlessly thrusts a stick into Adamās free hand.
Adamās eyes lock onto the small screen attached to the stick and spits out his drink in shock.
Plus sign.
Adam Ellis: Uhhhhhhhā¦
Ginny Van Lear: Are ya excited, hun? Dāya know what this means?
Oh yeah. He knew what the test meant. Positive. Adam felt the blood drain from his face as the realization sinks in. He stares at the test, unable to process the implications fully. Only Ginnyās voice broke through his thoughts.
Ginny Van Lear: Adam?
Her hands shake with anticipation while excitement, fear, confusion ā the full whirlwind of emotions swirl around Adam. The weight of this news renders him utterly speechless. His mind races, unable to comprehend how his life was about to change.
Ginny Van Lear: Adam?
So he does what many a young first time father-to-be does under the sheer pressure of the monumental news.
**THUD**
As his body hit the floor, Ginnyās mouth drops and sheās unsure of what to do next.
Ginny Van Lear: Umā¦ Adamā¦ Adam?
She kneels beside him and holds his handā¦
Ginny Van Lear: Adam??
ā¦while wondering in the back of her mind how Adam and her will navigate this new chapter of their life together ā both in the wrestling world and beyond.
We cut to ringside.
We return from commercial to the backstage area where Adam Ellis saunters down the hall with the echo of country music pulsing through his earbuds, blaring his favorite tune to drown out any distractions. Dressed in plain jeans and a worn-out T-shirt, he holds a non-alcoholic drink in his hand, enjoying every sip of the cool liquid. Taking in the Colossus show tonight as a non-participant, Adamās mind is at ease and he savors this fleeting moment of peace.
Ginny Van Lear: Adam! Adam!
Ginny Van Lear sprints towards him with an overwhelming look of excitement on her face, her red hair flying behind her. Her Appalachian accent punctuates every word, drawing attention from a passerby. Adam, not expecting to see her so worked up, pulls out one of his earbuds and gives her a questioning look.
Ginny Van Lear: Yāall have to see this!
Ginny breathlessly thrusts a stick into Adamās free hand.
Adamās eyes lock onto the small screen attached to the stick and spits out his drink in shock.
Plus sign.
Adam Ellis: Uhhhhhhhā¦
Ginny Van Lear: Are ya excited, hun? Dāya know what this means?
Oh yeah. He knew what the test meant. Positive. Adam felt the blood drain from his face as the realization sinks in. He stares at the test, unable to process the implications fully. Only Ginnyās voice broke through his thoughts.
Ginny Van Lear: Adam?
Her hands shake with anticipation while excitement, fear, confusion ā the full whirlwind of emotions swirl around Adam. The weight of this news renders him utterly speechless. His mind races, unable to comprehend how his life was about to change.
Ginny Van Lear: Adam?
So he does what many a young first time father-to-be does under the sheer pressure of the monumental news.
**THUD**
As his body hit the floor, Ginnyās mouth drops and sheās unsure of what to do next.
Ginny Van Lear: Umā¦ Adamā¦ Adam?
She kneels beside him and holds his handā¦
Ginny Van Lear: Adam??
ā¦while wondering in the back of her mind how Adam and her will navigate this new chapter of their life together ā both in the wrestling world and beyond.
We cut to ringside.
Nick Stuart: We are moments away from the main event of Colossus but first, I believe we have two people waiting to say their piece. On their journey. Whatever. I am going to puke.
Richard Parker: I am giddy already!
Nick Stuart: Unfortunately, letās pitch to the back.
The feed changes to Jonathan-Christopher and Vickie Hall outside gorilla. They are surrounded by the ESPN camera crew but there are no signs of Tristan-Crispin Gladhappy or Darin Zion. Vickie wears a glittery PRETTY PINKĀ© dress while Jonathan-Christopher is in a PRETTY PINKĀ© bath robe with his and Vickieās initials printed all over it.
Vickie Hall: Honey.
Vickie playfully giggles, trying to be coy by hiding her face while at the same time, she clearly doesnāt want to hide her face.
Vickie Hall: Itās here! Our moment!
The Woman of Wonder takes a step forward, as the jeers from inside the arena build and build. It looks like sheās going to dive into her thoughts but then she raises her right hand, places her index finger against her chin and ponders.
She raises one of those awfully bushy and unkempt eyebrows.
Vickie Hall: Jonathan-Christopher, you know what?
She steps back and opens her arms to the floor in front of her.
Vickie Hall: Itās your moment. Itās your homecoming!!! AAAAHHHHH!!!
With Mean Girl excitment, she shakes as Jonathan-Christopher walks into the space Vickie allows him to overtake. He rolls his shoulders forward and points into the lens. A fraction of the crowd provides audible support in the form of cheering.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: Cecilworth Farthington, you are a tremdenous wrestler but there is a time in every manās life when being the best is not enough because for ONE NIGHT ONLY youāve run into the powerhouse couple in PRIME.
Jonathan-Christopher shakes his head no.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: The powerhouse couple in WRESTLING.
Jonathan-Christopher shakes his head yes.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: Wait. This roll weāve been on, it hasnāt been for one night only. Itās ALL TOURNAMENT LONG.
Vickie adds emphasis in the background. Or does she roll her eyes while doing it? Unsure.
Vickie Hall: You tell him, baby!
Jonathan-Christopher crackes his knuckles. He stops to hear faint cheers building within the Superdome. Like a pro, he lets them build.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: I met my Amazing Life Partner in this very stadium. Section 640, I bought a round for all of you ā on me. Itās going to be delivered to your seats.
Section 640 is probably very grateful.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: Iām a Louisiana boy, Iām New Orleans tried and true but I never had any support growing up here.
Hall hangs his head for a brief moment. Then he picks it back up.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: This isnāt your fault, New Orleans. I was never given the opportunity. Through my Amazing Life Partner, my wonderdrug and lifeblood, she opened the doors to this incredible world of wrestling where I have met so many others! I now have the chance to perform in front of MY crowd, in the MAIN EVENT. I will give you fans my best! Boo meā¦ cheer meā¦ it doesnāt matter. New Orleansā¦
He grabs Vickie by the hand and kisses it. She blushes.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: Here we are!
He pauses for reflection.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: And Cecilworth, letās go to work! Because itās goodbye hugā¦
He wraps his arms around Vickie.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: And goodnight KISS!
He pecks his woman on the lips. Then he lets go of her ā and she seemingly appears mildly rattled for a brief second ā before Jonathan-Christopher points to the camera once again.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: Cecilworth, the best wrestler in the world, I respect you.
Vickieās eyes go wide. She tilts her head to the side.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: Thank you New Orleans. I will give you, and Vickie, everything Iāve got!
The ESPN camera crew claps on JCH as the pump-up segment comes to a close. Jonathan-Christopher waits for Vickieās directions on where to go within gorilla.
Nick Stuart: The MAIN EVENTā¦ the FINALS of the Almasy Tournementā¦ ITāS NEXT!
Nick Stuart: We are moments away from the main event of Colossus but first, I believe we have two people waiting to say their piece. On their journey. Whatever. I am going to puke.
Richard Parker: I am giddy already!
Nick Stuart: Unfortunately, letās pitch to the back.
The feed changes to Jonathan-Christopher and Vickie Hall outside gorilla. They are surrounded by the ESPN camera crew but there are no signs of Tristan-Crispin Gladhappy or Darin Zion. Vickie wears a glittery PRETTY PINKĀ© dress while Jonathan-Christopher is in a PRETTY PINKĀ© bath robe with his and Vickieās initials printed all over it.
Vickie Hall: Honey.
Vickie playfully giggles, trying to be coy by hiding her face while at the same time, she clearly doesnāt want to hide her face.
Vickie Hall: Itās here! Our moment!
The Woman of Wonder takes a step forward, as the jeers from inside the arena build and build. It looks like sheās going to dive into her thoughts but then she raises her right hand, places her index finger against her chin and ponders.
She raises one of those awfully bushy and unkempt eyebrows.
Vickie Hall: Jonathan-Christopher, you know what?
She steps back and opens her arms to the floor in front of her.
Vickie Hall: Itās your moment. Itās your homecoming!!! AAAAHHHHH!!!
With Mean Girl excitment, she shakes as Jonathan-Christopher walks into the space Vickie allows him to overtake. He rolls his shoulders forward and points into the lens. A fraction of the crowd provides audible support in the form of cheering.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: Cecilworth Farthington, you are a tremdenous wrestler but there is a time in every manās life when being the best is not enough because for ONE NIGHT ONLY youāve run into the powerhouse couple in PRIME.
Jonathan-Christopher shakes his head no.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: The powerhouse couple in WRESTLING.
Jonathan-Christopher shakes his head yes.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: Wait. This roll weāve been on, it hasnāt been for one night only. Itās ALL TOURNAMENT LONG.
Vickie adds emphasis in the background. Or does she roll her eyes while doing it? Unsure.
Vickie Hall: You tell him, baby!
Jonathan-Christopher crackes his knuckles. He stops to hear faint cheers building within the Superdome. Like a pro, he lets them build.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: I met my Amazing Life Partner in this very stadium. Section 640, I bought a round for all of you ā on me. Itās going to be delivered to your seats.
Section 640 is probably very grateful.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: Iām a Louisiana boy, Iām New Orleans tried and true but I never had any support growing up here.
Hall hangs his head for a brief moment. Then he picks it back up.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: This isnāt your fault, New Orleans. I was never given the opportunity. Through my Amazing Life Partner, my wonderdrug and lifeblood, she opened the doors to this incredible world of wrestling where I have met so many others! I now have the chance to perform in front of MY crowd, in the MAIN EVENT. I will give you fans my best! Boo meā¦ cheer meā¦ it doesnāt matter. New Orleansā¦
He grabs Vickie by the hand and kisses it. She blushes.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: Here we are!
He pauses for reflection.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: And Cecilworth, letās go to work! Because itās goodbye hugā¦
He wraps his arms around Vickie.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: And goodnight KISS!
He pecks his woman on the lips. Then he lets go of her ā and she seemingly appears mildly rattled for a brief second ā before Jonathan-Christopher points to the camera once again.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: Cecilworth, the best wrestler in the world, I respect you.
Vickieās eyes go wide. She tilts her head to the side.
Jonathan-Christopher Hall: Thank you New Orleans. I will give you, and Vickie, everything Iāve got!
The ESPN camera crew claps on JCH as the pump-up segment comes to a close. Jonathan-Christopher waits for Vickieās directions on where to go within gorilla.
Nick Stuart: The MAIN EVENTā¦ the FINALS of the Almasy Tournementā¦ ITāS NEXT!
The match graphic appears and the crowd goes wild with anticipation!
Nick Stuart: The finals are here! And who wouldāve thought weād see Jonathan-Christopher Hall at the end of the bracket!
Richard Parker: Hallmark Journeys DO represent real life, Nick!
Nick Stuart: I hope you put the end to pumping their tires quickly. Cecilworth, on the other hand, would be considered a favorite on any bracket. To the ring and-
Before Stuart can finish, the arena lights shut off entirely.
And then pink lights resurface, covering the entire arena. But not just any shade of pinkā¦
Itās awfully PRETTYĀ©.
Vince Howard is in the middle of the ring.
Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, please bring your attention to the front of the stage!
āReactorā by Woodkid begins as a prelude for whatās about to come. The scene switches to the front of the entrance. Flanking the massive Colossus stage on both sides are two PRETTY PINKĀ© blow up hot tubs, bubbling with hot water as some of it trickles over and leaks onto the stage. Down the rampway are young, impressional girls of various ages, all sporting PRETTY PINKĀ© little uniforms, likely to resemble their hero, Vickie Hall. A few additional young ladies appear from behind the Colossus logo and hop into the hot tubs with swimwear on.
Richard Parker: Care for a dip?
Nick Stuart: We have a job to do.
Richard Parker: Okay, maybe later.
Suddenly, there is microphone static over the PA, as if someone, somewhere, is blowing on a mic.
???: Brap, brap, BRAPPPPPP.
Nick Stuart: Whatās going on?
???: Itās yoā boy, DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ, Tristy-CRISPY!
Nick Stuart: Oh no.
Richard Parker: Oh yeah!
DJ Tristy-Crispy struts out onto the front of the stage, wearing baggy jeans about forty times his size and a Wiz Khalifa t-shirt.
DJ Tristy-Crispy: This song is written by MY BOY Jonathan-Christopher Hall and it is performed BY ME, your DJ Tristy-Crispy and the Drizzy Z, Darin Zion!
Nick Stuart: I am going to be sick.
Richard Parker: I am going to be amazed!
DJ-TC hops around the top of the entrance as the prelude closes and is replaced by the initial beat ofā¦
āGangsterās Paradiseā by Coolio
DJ Tristy-Crispy ensures he is standing at the top of the stage as he begins to roll through the NEW LYRICS!
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
As he walks through the Almasy Tournament of death
He takes a look at his wife and realizes she aināt meth
āCause heās been fightinā and clawinā for so long that
Even Ivan thinks he is not a pawn
The PRETTY PINKĀ© crew dance up and down the rampway as DJ Tristy-Crispy skips like a badass gangster down the walkway.
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
But he aināt ever pinned a man that didnāt deserve it
He be treated like the hunk you knows sheās in need of
You better watch how you talkinā and donāt be stalkingā
āCause you know this bracket aināt filled out with chalk
Despite the usual hate for LOVE CONVOY nonsense, a part of the crowd canāt help but get into it. DJ-TC is rapping his heart out.
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
This match you shouldnāt skip, Vickie Hallās no joke
As they choke, she sees herself with the common folk
Fool, sheās the kinda B the little primates wanna be like
On their knees day and night, saying prayers in PRETTY PINKĀ© light
Darin Zion, none other than Drizzy Z pops up from inside one of the hot tubs, soaking wet from head-to-toe. The girls inside the hot tub sprint the hell out of there, as if they had no idea Zion was waiting inside and are completely creeped the hell out. Who wouldnāt?
He sports a PRETTY PINKĀ© āVICKIE 4 LIFEā suit, albeit he is absolutely drenched. Nevertheless, Drizzy has a mic in his hands and starts singing. How Z has a working microphone after being buried within the deep end of the hot tub, let alone the ability to hold his breath for so longā¦ no one knows.
Drizzy Z:
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
A lift emerges from the middle of the entrance as none other than Vickie Hall appears. She is wearing a glittery PRETTY PINKĀ© outfit, similar to the ones her girly crew is dressed in, except this one is more prestigious looking.
Vickie stands, head down, arms folded, as PRETTY PINKĀ© pyro explodes around her and DJ Tristy-Crispy keeps pumping the beats.
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
Look at the situation they got him facing
He has a wonderful wife, ācause she aināt gonna cheat
So heās gotta lead the way for this cool team
Too much television wrestling got him chasing dreams
Vickie starts making her way down the ramp. The girls who are to her left and right drop to their knees and hail their arms up and down as she passes each one of them.
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
His opponentās gonna drool, suplex from behind
Cecilās begs again and again, ācause heās the bad guy
They gonna go down in the main event with a banger
With Farthingtonās shoulders pinned due to JCās real anger
The Woman of Wonder reaches the end of the rampway, as pyro sparklers spray the entrance down.
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
Fool, meth aināt nothinā but a superkick away
JCās living life due or die, whatās the bracket say?
Colossus ā23, but will we live to see ā24?
The way he is winning, oh we know
Since Vickie emerged from under the ramp, itās time for her Amazing Life Partner to appear from the skies! He is flying down via a zip line from one side of the arena to the next, much like a Heartbreak Kid might, if there was such a thing. Most of JCHās face canāt be seen, as heās in a PRETTY PINKĀ© robe, hood up, with white hearts and āJC+Vā littered all over it.
Nick Stuart: From the heavens comes Jonathan-Christopher. From hell comes Vickie Hall.
Richard Parker: Quiet! Iām enjoying the performance!
Drizzy Z:
Tell me why are we so happ-i-ly
Gonna see it through, the journeyyyy
The zip line drops Jonathan-Christopher Hall off at the top of the rampway where a group of girls unhook him from the line. He stands in the center of the stage, head down, arms crossed, exactly like his ALP did moments ago as white and pink light shine off and on upon him. You can slightly see JCHās lips moving, pumping himself up for the biggest match of his life.
Drizzy Z:
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Jonathan-Christopher whips back his hood to show the most confident look heās sported in PRIME Wrestling to date. The crowd gives a cheer ā well, some. Because he is the hometown hero, after all.
JCH takes a hard first step down the ramp and marches towards his lady who waits at the ring apron.
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
Power and his honey, honey and their power
If this match was last year, JC wouldāve cowered
Everybodyās gunninā, but thank god Lee aināt bookinā
Itās going on in the kitchen, ācause JCH is cookinā
More pyro explodes as Jonathan-Christopher is halfway there. He cranks his arms around with passion and fury.
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
They say we gotta learn, thatās why Vickieās here to teach me
If she can understand it, then we can be free
I guess we can, I guess they wonāt
Iāll smoke a blunt, which is why youāll give a major fuck, fool
Arriving at his Amazing Life Partner, Jonathan-Christopher snatches her by the waist, tilts her back and they make out HARDCORE!!!! in front of everyone as even MORE pyro goes BOOM! The expensive pyro bill is likely on Vickie, as she told Lindsay Troy sheād cover the costs.
Jonathan-Christopher slides onto the apron and opens the ropes for Vickie. She strolls up the steel steps and slips in-between the top and middle rope. Her man follows.
Drizzy Z:
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Jonathan-Christopher continues to pump himself up as DJ Tristy-Crispy marches up the steel steps himself, followed by Drizzy Z. Now with all four of the LOVE CONVOY in the middle of the ring, Drizzy finishes the lyrics.
Drizzy Z:
Tell me why are we so happ-i-ly
Gonna see it through, the journeyyyy
Jonathan-Christopher Hall falls to his knees and screams into the rafters.
Drizzy Z:
Tell me why are we so happ-i-ly
Gonna see it through, the journeyyyy
The music dies down. The crowd, however, does not.
LETāS GO JC!
VICKIE SUCKS!
LETāS GO JC!
VICKIE SUCKS!
The cheers are honestly a mix across the board. Thereās certainly boos for Jonathan-Christopher, as well. But one thing is for certainā¦
Everyone seemingly hates the PRETTY PINKĀ© woman.
Nick Stuart: Iā¦ have no words.
Richard Parker: What an entrance! OSCARS FOR EVERYONE!!
Vickie commands DJ Tristy-Crispy and Drizzy Z out of the ring and to the back as she beckons for her ALP to meet her in the middle of the ring once more.
Vickie Hall: Do you love me?
Jonathan-Christopher nods with passion.
But this is not exactly the passion Vickie expects so she asks it again.
Vickie Hall: Do you LOVE ME!?
A harder, more passionate JCH responds with a heavy āyesā head shake. This pleases Vickie greatly.
Vickie Hall: Win.
She slithers out of the ring and waits at the apron.
Vince Howard: This match is for ONE FALL!
RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!
Vince Howard: Already in the ringā¦ from FOLSOM, LOUISIANAā¦
The crowd gives a huge pop, since Folsom is so closeby.
Vince Howard: Weighing in at two-hundred-twenty poundsā¦ JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHER HALL!
Some of the crowd, once again, gives a surprising cheer!
Nick Stuart: I am shocked.
Richard Parker: Iām not. Heās FROM here, Nick. Heās a local!
Nick Stuart: Well, when you put it that way.
And then the waiting game for their opponentā¦
The Superdome is ushered into silence once more as the lights in the stadium dim. A small strum on a banjo begins the introduction to āJourney of the Sorcererā by The Eagles, as the PRIME*View sparks to life. As the song swells into life, the gentle tune accompanies a video package of The Five Star Championās road to this moment.
Slow motion clips of Farthington twisting and turning his opponents until he locks in Phil Atkenās Tarp are shown in the order of Farthingtonās PRIME matches, each time with a final cut to Farthington victorious, his hand held high by the referee.
First itās Adam Ellis, then former Universal Champion Rezin.
Next? The moment that Farthington claimed the Five Star Championship, his wiry arms locked around the throat of PRIMEās newest father, Coral Avalon.
As one fades, the next comes into view. Nate Colton tries valiantly to stop Farthington but ends up in the tarp, the same as the rest.
The musicās volume continues to grow, as do the murmurs in the crowd, as we reach the Almasy portion of the video package. When The Anglo Luchador falls, he does not find the sanctuary he was seeking.
Next, the legendary Brandon Youngblood, the man who won this very tournament the previous year, brutalises Cecilworth Farthington but The Tarp remains and it conquers.
This leads into the Battle of Glue Supremacy, Hanlon and Farthington fighting for their place in the food chain, a Tarp for the beautiful mustached fella is the result, same as the rest.
The package then does a curious thing for Farthingtonās second encounter with Avalon. There are no Tarps to be seen this time around, instead an arm is what is collected. As the shortened one minute thirty minute of The Eagleās song reaches its peak, we see the package zoom and pause on Farthington locking in his Article 50 cross armbreaker. As Avalonās hand hits the mat for the tap, the song stops and once again the Superdome is shrouded in darkness.
All that remains is text on the PRIME*View: āCecilworth Farthington: The Finish Line of Professional Wrestlingā.
The text remains for a bit. Not for too long, just for a moment and as it fades away, a female voice is heard, heralding forth the Almasy finalist and Five Star Champion.
āMr. Finish Lineā
Suddenly the Superdome is once again engulfed in light as an incredibly determined looking Cecilworth Farthington stands atop the entranceway. No black hoodie, just a man, his 5 Star Championship around his waist, and teeny tiny little tights.
Vulfpeckās āMr. Finish Lineā beckons Farthington towards the ring.
Richard Parker: That video may be the most beautiful thing Iāve ever seen in my life. What a hero, what a story!
Nick Stuart: Be careful colleague, you donāt want to start mentioning stories within earshot of Vickie Hall. What is clear, looking at the man walking to the ring right now, he is ready for this fight. He has toughed it out against PRIMEās very bestā¦
Richard Parker: And now he gets PRIMEās very worstā¦
Nick Stuart: JCH battled for his place here, just like Cecilworth.
As Farthington begins to walk down to the ring, the lights in the Superdome slowly dim around him, until a singular spotlight follows his journey to the ring. A journey where he has looked dead ahead the entire time, not very much paying attention to the crowd. They may be viewing him as a hero or a villain, itās all just noise to Farthington as he steps towards the ring to attempt to claim Almasy glory.
Nick Stuart: There are no Glue shenanigans tonight, Cecilworth Farthington is out here, alone. In conversations throughout the week, heās made it clear that this sport is his love and I believe that the man thinks claiming this tournament fair and square is a way of paying back some of that love.
Richard Parker: Weāve been talking about this at my most recent Farthington Fan Club meeting and we all agree the man has become unhinged, itās great! Although, going out solo when you have Vickie Hall and ringside may be a step too far.
Cecilworth hops into the ring and his spotlight follows, he takes a moment to adjust himself before he positions himself in the dead centre of the ring. He allows the Five Star Championship to glimmer in the bright lights for a few moments before ripping it off his waist and raising it high above his head.
Vince Howard: His opponent, hailing from Buckinghamshire, England, weighing in tonight at one hundred and ninety five poundsā¦ he is the self-proclaimed Finish Line of Professional Wrestling, he is the Five Star Champion, he isā¦ CECILWORTHā¦. FARTHINGTONNNNNNN.
Nick Stuart: Farthington with a little more bulk for this matchā¦
Richard Parker: He has been eating good for the past few months.
The two finalists for the 2023 Almasy Invitational are so very close, drawing near, a palpable intensity shared, nearly going chest to chest if not for Elvis Nixon standing between the two, holding them back with a press against their chests. Shockingly, itās Jonathan-Christopher who needs the most force placed upon him, his nostrils flaring, his breathing heavy, his head shaking up and down.
He is ready to go.
Farthingtonās stare is remorseless, cold, his facial features utterly stoic.
Hall tries to rip Nixon away, only to start receiving a warning from the official. The Vow of Virtue backpedals a mere step, allowing Elvis to motion to Cecilworth, giving some kind of instruction. The Financier gives only the faintest of nods. Nixon steps back, looking to the time keeper, and calls for the bell.
DING DING
Nick Stuart: And HERE weā
The instant the bell rings, JCH CHARGES forward, grabbing a double leg takedown and lifting the 5 Star Champion off his feet, driving forward and pushing him toward the turnbuckles. The connection and the drive into the corner gets a loud roar from the Superdome crowd, and once there, the not so Timid Tiger starts throwing wild punches into the sides of his opponent. For his part, Cecilworth is smothering with his arms toward the head of Hall.
Richard Parker: NOBODY would haveā
The cheer bathing the ring brings Hall out of the exchange. Brings. Farthington released the hold, and while JCH thinks he just showed the entire world that he is the best wrestler in the world, that he is truly more skilled than anyone would credit him for, that through the power of loveā
Farthington SLAPS the absolute dogshit out of Jonathan-Christopher, dropping the Vow of Virtue to the canvas.
Richard Parker: HOoooooooooooOOOYTDAMN! OOOOOOOH wow!
Nick Stuart: That wasnāt a bellclap, folks. Thatā¦just one slapā¦
JCH grabs at his cheek, his fist pounding the canvas. He gets upā¦and as he gets to a stand, Farthington open hand slaps him again. The blow is enough to have Hall stagger, and with his back now exposed, the 5 Star Champion drives the point of his elbow right into the base of his opponentās neck, dropping him to his knees.
As if riding a horse, Farthington is mounted on Hallās back, the soles of his boots still firmly planted on the canvas. JCH tries to crawl away, but all he is managing to do is expose himself to Cecilworth, who, from a lording position, bell claps the Timid Tiger. Startled, JCH tries to reach for his ears, to protect his head, but Farthington blasts him across the side of his head with the heel of his hand. And another, from the other side. Alternating strikes.
Nick Stuart: The sheer physicality of Cecilworth Farthington, the 5 Star Champion, and just the swiftness of everythingā
Richard Parker: Just short, compact blows.
Vickie, on the outside, looks as pleased as she would if you told her it was eyebrow waxing time. Jonathan-Christopher, for his part, is trying to tuck his chin, to defend himself.
Farthington dismounts, driving his boot into the base of his opponentās neck.
Nick Stuart: Cecilworth Farthingtonā¦Cecilworth Farthingtonā¦stalkingā¦hunting his prey. This match might not take long. Jonathan-Christopher, heās proven himself more capable than many would have assumedā¦
Richard Parker: The power of love can guide you to amazing thingsā¦
Nick Stuart: But the PRIME 5 Star Championā¦heās one of the most skilled and feared men in the sport for a reason. There is no wasted movement. No pantomiming. Each blow is directed strictly toward the neck.
Richard Parker: The Tarp. Itās taken down EVERYONE elseā¦
JCH tries to scamper away on his hands and knees, but Farthington is there before he can get to the end of the ring, blasting him in the face with a driving knee strike.
Richard Parker: I hope Jonathan-Christoper has dental coverageā¦good Hoytā¦
If one is expecting Farthington to offer a stitch of sympathy, then they will be disappointed. Cecilworth just grabs Hall by the head, snapping his head into canvas.
Richard Parker: Playing with his food. Savoring the moment. Thatās what Lord Cecilworth is doing here. Iām sorry Jonathan-Christopher and Vickie, but tonightās love story is about the 5 Star Champion and the sport of professional wrestling.
The Finals of the Almasy are moving at a brisk and dominant pace. The match up nobody wouldāve picked is showing exactly why it wasnāt; Jonathan-Christopher Hall is utterly outclassed by a focused Mr. Finish Line. Such a statement applies to most in wrestling. This, however, is years of training, a lifetime of passion, and inborn natural skill coming to fruition against someone still trying to figure things out.
Even some of the true greats, at such a stage of development, would be just as sacrificial.
And this is made all the more apparent as Farthington is in full mount, looking down at his opponent, throwing calculated open handed strikes to the face and neck of JCH.
Nick Stuart: Jonathan-Christopher, trying to escape this, trying to reach for the ropesā
Vickie Hall is SCREAMING at Elvis Nixon to put a stop to this, that itās against the rules.
Nick Stuart: And Vickie trying to legislate from the outside of the ring.
Richard Parker: But thereās NOTHING to do here. NOTHING! Lord Cecilworthā¦those are open handed strikes. Theyāre brutal. Theyāre vicious. And if those fists were closed, sure, Nixon might stop this. But this is just SO smart on his part.
Nick Stuart: This isā¦Jonathan-Christopher, his face and neckā¦already looking bruisedā¦looking swollenā¦just thereās been OOOH!
Jonathan-Christopher swipes WILDLY from his position, right as Cecilworth is dipping himself to throw another brutal blow, the sudden shift in movement inadvertently causing JCHās fingers to scratch at the eye of the 5 Star Champion, causing Farthington to violent reach for his eye, sending him to the canvas and out of the mouth.
Nick Stuart: Was THAT intentional?
Richard Parker: Canāt be. CANāT BE! And Farthington looks like heās in TREMENDOUS PAIN, covering his head, his legs kicking the canvasā
Nick Stuart: Jonathan-Christopher staggering away, staggering awayā¦struggling for breath, the ropesā¦heās getting up and he sees Farthingtonā
Richard Parker: This is his openingā
Nick Stuart: JCH stomping at the downed 5 Star Champion. STOMPING! He senses blood in the water, and Elvis Nixon is trying to pull him awayā
Richard Parker: Nixon trying to check on Farthingtonā
Nick Stuart: But Hallā¦Hallā¦HALLā¦DRIVING HIS KNEEā
Richard Parker: FARTHINGTON MIGHT BE IN TROUBLEā
Nick Stuart: DRIVING KNEE STRIKE! Cecilworth Farthington, heās CAUGHT, heās SURPRISEDā
Richard Parker: Itās THE EYEā
Nick Stuart: Farthington on his back LEG DROP! LEG DROP ON THE FINISH LINE OF PROFESSIONAL WRESTLINGā
Richard Parker: WHAT THE HELL! LISTEN TO THIS CROWD!
On the outside, Vickie Hall is in apoplectic ecstacy. As though she is having a certain ratherā¦INTENSE experience that would get banned on most decent television networks.
Nick Stuart: This has definitely changedā¦JCH off the ropes DIVING BODY SPLASH! DIVING BODY SPLASH! COVER!
ONE
TWā
KICKOUT!
Nick Stuart: Farthington kicking out HARD thereā
Richard Parker: But heās grabbing at his eyeā
Nick Stuart: Jonathan-Christopher trying to grab hold of Farthington, front chanceryā
Richard Parker: OOOOF!
Nick Stuart: Farthington DRIVING his forearm into the gut of Hall, and heās blinking, blinking, rubbing that eyeā
Richard Parker: Oh HEāS PISSED!
Nick Stuart: Farthington LAUNCHING himself upward with a european uppercut! And now heās up DRIVING his hip into the midsection of Hallā
Richard Parker: Heās keeping such close proximityā
Nick Stuart: RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP! And rising up SLAMMING JCHās arm and elbow into the canvas! And now heās bracing it against the mat and OHHH!! Driving his knees into the elbow!
Richard Parker: Lord Cecilworth, from what Iāve heard, is a master of the delayed cartwheel. Ami Troy was blowing up the corporate jabber channel with videos of him on kitchen countersā
Nick Stuart: And Farthington, Farthington, FARTHINGTON, heās not slowing, getting up, jerking that arm, kicking it, again, again, AGAIN!
Richard Parker: Perhaps that close call with the eye has Lord Cecilworth in a mental survival instinct mode? Directing so much brutality to the armā
Nick Stuart: I believe Farthington would be okay with hedging any bets on targets. Neck or arm, heās adept and proficient with both the rear naked choke and cross arm-breakerā
Richard Parker: Proficient isnāt how IāD term two nuclear weaponsā¦
JCH tries to fight back, trying to grab Farthingtonās legs, only to have it stuffed with ease. Cecilworth quickly transitions to north-south position, driving the point of his knee into the top of Hallās head. Knee after knee is buried, finding itās spot.
Nick Stuart: Those knees, thereās more than just the strike there.
Richard Parker: Itās the velocity. Itās the connection. Itās the way it jars the neck. Hurts the spinal cord.
Nick Stuart: Hall is trying to defend himself, but he justā¦heās out of his depth in a grappling and striking contest with the supremely skilled Farthingtonā
Richard Parker: If you know Lord Cecilworth, and I mean TRULY know Lord Cecilworth, which I do, you know that, beyond what most people know, that this sort of systematic striking and destruction has been in his DNA since the very beginning. Since his very start in this sport.
Nick Stuart: I think most would assume that someone with his pedigree in the sport would be more thanā
Richard Parker: No. I mean, at the same stage of development as Jonathan-Christopher, he was taking on the most salty and skilled grapplers and strikers in all of Europeā¦and was annihilating them. This young manā¦with all this love in his heartā¦Hallā¦he has no chance.
Each strike hits like a hammer, groans from all over at the connections. But then, the sheer brutality is becoming evident. Blood isnāt trickling; itās flowing freely. And as JCH braces against the dominating Cecilworth, Elvis Nixon puts on a pair of black nitrile medical gloves.
Nick Stuart: And the bloodā¦itās coming freelyā¦
Richard Parker: This isā¦itās like a hippopotamus mauling a child.
As if trying to make a point, Farthington lets up, letting JCH move to his side and roll over. The silly thing is, the moment Hall believes he is free, he is grabbed in a guillotine choke.
Nick Stuart: GUILLOTINE! GUILLOTINE!
Richard Parker: THIS COULD BE IT!
Early in the hold, JCH begins throwing wild punches to the side of Farthington. This only serves to irritate Cecilworth, who tightens the hold. The larger Hall tries to push, bullrushing, and manages to get to a stand. In a facelock, Farthington lifts Jonathan-Christopher up and snap suplex.
Nick Stuart: Youād think thereād be a cover hereā¦
Richard Parker: But there isnāt.
The 5 Star Champion is up to his feet, backing up. The blood smear on his kneepad is stark. Jonathan-Christopher is crawling, reaching outā¦
Nick Stuart: Is heā¦
Richard Parker: This isā¦blood is in his eyesā¦
Nick Stuart: Heās reaching out for Vickie.
Seeing her Amazing Life Partner in such a state mortifies Vickie Hall, and she would faint if not for the fact that Gladhappy and Drizzy Z (Wrestler X?) are there to catch her.
Richard Parker: The poor thingā¦sheās probably been stricken with PTSD from this moment.
Nick Stuart: It should be noted, scuttlebutt is that Vickie has been outspoken in calling Cecilworth the best wrestler in the worldā
Richard Parker: And he isā¦
Nick Stuart: And with what we know about their relationshipā
Richard Parker: Will you stop fishing and trying to ruin this amazing love? Trouble is always on the horizon in paradise.
With JCH in his sights, Farthington backs up, getting a running start.
Nick Stuart: Uh ohā¦he could be looking for the Penalty Kickā
Richard Parker: And heās got his aim trained onā
Nick Stuart: Farthington rushing forward PENALTY KICKā
Richard Parker: HE COLLAPSED!
Nick Stuart: THE PENALTY KICK MISSED! JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHER COULDNāT KEEP HIMSELF UP, AND FARTHINGTON JUST KICKED THE BOTTOM TURNBUCKLEā
Richard Parker: WAIT!
Nick Stuart: ROLL UP!
Richard Parker: THE TIGHTS!
ONE!
TWO!
THRāKICKOUT!
Nick Stuart: FARTHINGTON JUST ESCAPED! And heās MORTIFIEDā
Richard Parker: Wait! WAIT!
Nick Stuart: BACK RAKE!
Richard Parker: HE GOT HIS CLAWS IN HIM!
Nick Stuart: Farthington yelping andā¦oh myāWAISTLOCK! GERMAN SUPLEX!
Richard Parker: THAT ACTUALLY KIND OF LOOKS GOODā
Nick Stuart: JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHER maintaining the holdā
Richard Parker: He canāt beā
Nick Stuart: Rolling the hips GERMAN SUPLEX! FARTHINGTONāS ARMS GOING WILDā
Richard Parker: THIS CANāT BE HAPPENINGā
Nick Stuart: AND ANOTHER GERMAN SUPLEX! A TRIO OF GERMAN SUPLEXES!
Releasing, JCH pushes himself up, the staggering, wobbly Farthington there to meet him.
Nick Stuart: CHASING VICKIE!
The HEAVY running back elbow connects, flattening Farthington, but also causing him to ricochet back up.
Nick Stuart: This burst of energy, this burst of energy, he might, he mightā
The support of all Hallās āfriendsā are going mad. The fans in the Superdome are going wild. The impossible is happening. And with the 5 Star Champion is ripe for the taking. Staggering back to his feet, Hall throws a wild fist in the air, his face covered in his own blood. He nearly falls into the corner, but once he braces himself, he gets an idea.
With as much pep as he has in his step, JCH climbs the corner, and, brushing blood from his eyes, leaps.
Nick Stuart: HEāS ALL THATā
Richard Parker: OH MY GOD!
Nick Stuart: FARTHINGTON WAS UP AND PENALTY KICKED JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHER HALL! OH MY GOOD LORD!
Richard Parker: MY GOOD LORD FARTHINGTON!
Farthington does what he should in this situation, hooking the leg.
ONE
TWO
THREEEEEEE
NO!
JUST in the nick of time.
Nick Stuart: JUST a two count! But my LORD!
That JCH got his shoulder off the mat at all is a minor miracle. Farthington, for his part, picks the Timid Tiger off the mat, slamming him back down before snapping a kick at his head. Following up, the 5 Star Champion drops to the canvas, mounting Hall and smacking him with openhanded strikes. Another and another. The blows transition to forearm shots. Each one is heavy. Devastating. Elvis Nixon thinks of maybe stopping this assault, in maybe stopping the contest. Hall tries, with all his might, to get away, trying to roll over.
Itās then that the scariest thing in the world happens.
Nick Stuart: THE TARP!
Richard Parker: THE TARP!
Nick Stuart: REAR NAKED CHOKEā
Richard Parker: HALLā
Nick Stuart: HALL THROWS HIS HEAD BACK!
Richard Parker: FARTHINGTONāS BLEEDING FROM HIS MOUTH!
Nick Stuart: If he had gotten that in firm, this would be over, but just the threat of those arms, that holdā
Richard Parker: Are you telling meā
Both men are slow to rise, Farthington spitting a gob of his own blood out, Jonathan-Christopher brushing his eyes as best as he can. JCH throws a wild haymaker, but the 5 Star Champion hits a mule kick, then a European uppercut. Another European uppercut. Cecilworth grabs hold of a front facelock, then blasts Hall with another European uppercut, then grabbing his head and slamming his body to the mat.
Then, he grabs the wrists of Jonathan-Christopher.
Nick Stuart: What is heā¦
Richard Parker: I think this is going to get more and more uncomfortableā
Nick Stuart: OH MY WORD! CECILWORTH FARTHINGTON IS STOMPING ON THE THROAT OF JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHER HALL!
Richard Parker: Youā¦Elvisā¦I think you have toā¦
Nick Stuart: VICIOUS! CONSTANT PRESSURE! This isā¦MY WORD!
Richard Parker: THIS IS BRUTAL!
The serial killer death glower in Farthingtonās face says it all, as does the intensity of his attack. With one final blow, he grinds his heel into the throat of Hall, then grabs at his arm, ripping it off the canvas, slamming it into the canvas. Then, grabbing it again, he wedges JCHās palm into the canvas, stomping on his elbow, all before turning it around and grabbing and pulling Hallās arm behind his back, then driving the point of his knee into the back of Hallās neck.
Nick Stuart: Mister Finish Lineā
Richard Parker: WAITā
Nick Stuart: TRISTAN CRISPINā
Gladhappy canāt take it anymore. And he isnāt alone. The bulky camera in his hands is brandished with intent as he gets onto the apron. Elvis Nixon looks to put a stop to this before the worst comes to pass.
He, however, is beat to the punch.
Nick Stuart: FARTHINGTON YANKS TRISTAN CRISPIN GLADHAPPY INTO THE RINGā
Richard Parker: I wouldnāt want toā
Nick Stuart: WORTHLESS! WORTHLESS! Fisherman buster, and he kicks TCG out of the ring!
Richard Parker: Taking control. Taking full control! The center of the sport! The greatest! This is HIS moment! HisāWAITā
Nick Stuart: CHOP BLOCK!
Richard Parker: WAAAAAAAAAAAAIT!
Jonathan-Christopher drives his shoulder into the back of Farthingtonās knee, hitting a knee drop to the crumpling Farthington. Another front facelock, and a DDT connects. A cover!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Farthington manages to kickout, but JCH maintains a front facelock, and, with a loud yell, drops Farthington with a falcon arrow suplex. ANOTHER cover.
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
But before Cecilworth can respondā¦
Nick Stuart: ANOTHER DDT! WHAT IS GOING ON HEREā
Richard Parker: Itās like every time he cheats, Hall gets a charge, like heās Popeye with his spinachā
Nick Stuart: Justā¦and Hall, staggering, in survival mode, he is on the middle corner, rising up, his hands up to the skyā
Richard Parker: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaitā
Nick Stuart: THE SPACE BETWEEN US! THE SPACE BETWEEN US! FROG SPLASH! COOOOOOOVER!
ONE
TWO
THREEEEā
KICKOUT!
JUST IN THE NICK OF TIME!
Nick Stuart: I canāt, I canāt, I canāt BELIEVEā
Richard Parker: Farthington has beaten so many of the very best, and thisā¦this storyā¦waitā
Nick Stuart: He canāt beā¦
Richard Parker: Theā¦The Tarp? From Jonathan-Christopher Hall?
Feeling himself, Hall grabs hold of Cecilworthās neck with a rear naked choke. The first moments, Farthington begins to suffocate. Then, his eyes shoot open. His blood curdles. Anger. Rage. His hands grab at the forearm of JCH, and the back of his head blasts JCHās face. Right into the bridge of his nose. The intensity is such that, if it wasnāt for the blood from his head, JCHās nose might be visibly gushing blood.
The āTarpā is released. But Farthington, he isnāt done. His hands smash into the face of Hall, then forearms. Blow after blow. Rising up, the 5 Star Champion drives his heel into the head of Hall.
Lifting him up, a kitchen sink knee. Ripping his head and throwing him to the canvas. More stomps. Stalking and stalking.
Nick Stuart: Thisā¦thisā¦
Richard Parker: Elvis! Elvis! Stop the damn match! Heās gonna kill him!
The Tarp. This son of a bitch tried to rear naked choke Lord Cecilworth Farthington? The audacity. The AUDACITY! If this son of a bitch was going to do that? How about showing him what Mr. Finish Line is ALL about? Stomps to the arm. Kicks. A double foot stomp. Grabbing the wrist and throwing the arm to the canvas. Jerking at the arm and driving his knee into it.
This intensity, this focus, itās disgusting. Like prison. Jonathan-Christopher is in utter agony, yelping, yelling, SCREAMING. Screaming out in pain. A cut of the arm. The camera zooms in on the face of the 5 Star Champion as he yells out a declaration.
Cecilworth Farthington: ARTICLE. FIFTY!
Richard Parker: YESSSSSS!
Nick Stuart: HEāS CALLING FOR THE CROSS ARM BREAKERā
And as he does, JCH is screaming outā¦
For Vickie.
And she hears him.
Getting on the apron.
And she screams at Farthington to stop just as heās about to hit the cross armbreaker and break the arm of his opponent, claiming the Almasy for himself. But he sees Elvis Nixon making a beeline toward her. Sheās going to rob him of this moment. This gloryhound. This utter blight. All his sacrifice, all his hardwork, and sheās going to steal it from him. No.
No she isnāt. He drops arm, and beelines to Vickie Hall. What he does shocks everyone. Because without hesitationā
Nick Stuart: CALF KICK TO VICKIE HALL!
The blow sends Vickie to the apron in a heap with a yelp. She grabs at her leg. Cecilworth Farthington might well have broken her leg in the process.
Richard Parker: WAITā
Nick Stuart: JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHERā
Richard Parker: WAAAAAAAAAIT A MINUTEā
Nick Stuart: THE TIGHTāS
ONE!
Richard Parker: WHAT THEā
TWO!
Nick Stuart: ALL OF HIS BODY WEIGHTā
THREE!
Farthington kicks out, and after getting caught with a roll up and with the tight pull, heās leaving NOTHING to chance! The heap that is Jonathan-Christopher Hall is unable to defend himself from the array of stomps to the arm, to the head, to the neck. A double foot stomp. And to seal the deal, The 5 Star Champion pulls Jonathan-Christopher Hall off the canvas, looking to hit him with Worthless.
Except for one thing.
Elvis Nixon is RIPPING him off of JCH.
Staggering, Farthingtonās eyes are wide as JCH crumples in a heap. If Nixon is trying to defend Hall so that this match doesnāt endā¦
Nick Stuart: Cecilworth trying to push Nixon asideā
Richard Parker: Did weā
The fans in the Superdome are on their feet and in utter shock. The wall of sound enveloping the ring makes it impossible for Cecilworth Farthington to hear the tones around him.
Propped up against the corner, Jonathan-Christopher Hall stares back at Farthington, battered, bloody, utterly destroyed, but he beckons him, ready for more. And Cecilworth is ready to deliver.
Until Elvis Nixon raises the hand of Jonathan-Christopher Hall.
Richard Parker: WHAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?!
Nick Stuart: Folksā¦FOLKSā¦
Cecilworth Farthington doesnāt understand. Then, it dawns on him. What he is seeing. What he is hearing. Aerosmith. Donāt Miss A Thing.
Vickie Hall, as best as she can, rolls into the ring, pressing against her Amazing Life Partner. Bewildered. Shocked.
Vince Howard: THE WINNER OF THIS MATCHā¦
A look of mortification envelops her features.
Vince Howard: AND THE WINNER OF THE 2023 SEYMOUR ALMASY INVITATIONAL TOURNAMENTā¦
She isnāt the only one in the ring with this look.
Vince Howard: JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONATHAN! CHRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISTOPHER! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL!
Nick Stuart: OH MY GOD! JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHER HALL COMPLETED HIS STORY!
Richard Parker: THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE!
The Amazing Life Partners nuzzle close to each other, battered, bruised, weary. JCHās blood freely falls all over Vickie. And as grabs hold of Jonathan-Christopher, he eyes, wild, her smile, utterly rictis, contented. Her impossible dream made manifest.
And with nothing left to give, after perhaps the greatest run of victories in ANY tournament in the HISTORY of PRIME, undefeated, unconquerable, the standard of dominanceā¦Cecilworth Farthington falls to his knees in utter disbelief.
The fireworks going off arenāt for him. They are sparkled hearts celebrating the culmination of the greatest love story ever told.
At the same time, they are the distant cry of something else.
The greatest heartbreak in the history of professional wrestling.
LOVE.
IS.
REAL.
The match graphic appears and the crowd goes wild with anticipation!
Nick Stuart: The finals are here! And who wouldāve thought weād see Jonathan-Christopher Hall at the end of the bracket!
Richard Parker: Hallmark Journeys DO represent real life, Nick!
Nick Stuart: I hope you put the end to pumping their tires quickly. Cecilworth, on the other hand, would be considered a favorite on any bracket. To the ring and-
Before Stuart can finish, the arena lights shut off entirely.
And then pink lights resurface, covering the entire arena. But not just any shade of pinkā¦
Itās awfully PRETTYĀ©.
Vince Howard is in the middle of the ring.
Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, please bring your attention to the front of the stage!
āReactorā by Woodkid begins as a prelude for whatās about to come. The scene switches to the front of the entrance. Flanking the massive Colossus stage on both sides are two PRETTY PINKĀ© blow up hot tubs, bubbling with hot water as some of it trickles over and leaks onto the stage. Down the rampway are young, impressional girls of various ages, all sporting PRETTY PINKĀ© little uniforms, likely to resemble their hero, Vickie Hall. A few additional young ladies appear from behind the Colossus logo and hop into the hot tubs with swimwear on.
Richard Parker: Care for a dip?
Nick Stuart: We have a job to do.
Richard Parker: Okay, maybe later.
Suddenly, there is microphone static over the PA, as if someone, somewhere, is blowing on a mic.
???: Brap, brap, BRAPPPPPP.
Nick Stuart: Whatās going on?
???: Itās yoā boy, DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ, Tristy-CRISPY!
Nick Stuart: Oh no.
Richard Parker: Oh yeah!
DJ Tristy-Crispy struts out onto the front of the stage, wearing baggy jeans about forty times his size and a Wiz Khalifa t-shirt.
DJ Tristy-Crispy: This song is written by MY BOY Jonathan-Christopher Hall and it is performed BY ME, your DJ Tristy-Crispy and the Drizzy Z, Darin Zion!
Nick Stuart: I am going to be sick.
Richard Parker: I am going to be amazed!
DJ-TC hops around the top of the entrance as the prelude closes and is replaced by the initial beat ofā¦
āGangsterās Paradiseā by Coolio
DJ Tristy-Crispy ensures he is standing at the top of the stage as he begins to roll through the NEW LYRICS!
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
As he walks through the Almasy Tournament of death
He takes a look at his wife and realizes she aināt meth
āCause heās been fightinā and clawinā for so long that
Even Ivan thinks he is not a pawn
The PRETTY PINKĀ© crew dance up and down the rampway as DJ Tristy-Crispy skips like a badass gangster down the walkway.
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
But he aināt ever pinned a man that didnāt deserve it
He be treated like the hunk you knows sheās in need of
You better watch how you talkinā and donāt be stalkingā
āCause you know this bracket aināt filled out with chalk
Despite the usual hate for LOVE CONVOY nonsense, a part of the crowd canāt help but get into it. DJ-TC is rapping his heart out.
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
This match you shouldnāt skip, Vickie Hallās no joke
As they choke, she sees herself with the common folk
Fool, sheās the kinda B the little primates wanna be like
On their knees day and night, saying prayers in PRETTY PINKĀ© light
Darin Zion, none other than Drizzy Z pops up from inside one of the hot tubs, soaking wet from head-to-toe. The girls inside the hot tub sprint the hell out of there, as if they had no idea Zion was waiting inside and are completely creeped the hell out. Who wouldnāt?
He sports a PRETTY PINKĀ© āVICKIE 4 LIFEā suit, albeit he is absolutely drenched. Nevertheless, Drizzy has a mic in his hands and starts singing. How Z has a working microphone after being buried within the deep end of the hot tub, let alone the ability to hold his breath for so longā¦ no one knows.
Drizzy Z:
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
A lift emerges from the middle of the entrance as none other than Vickie Hall appears. She is wearing a glittery PRETTY PINKĀ© outfit, similar to the ones her girly crew is dressed in, except this one is more prestigious looking.
Vickie stands, head down, arms folded, as PRETTY PINKĀ© pyro explodes around her and DJ Tristy-Crispy keeps pumping the beats.
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
Look at the situation they got him facing
He has a wonderful wife, ācause she aināt gonna cheat
So heās gotta lead the way for this cool team
Too much television wrestling got him chasing dreams
Vickie starts making her way down the ramp. The girls who are to her left and right drop to their knees and hail their arms up and down as she passes each one of them.
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
His opponentās gonna drool, suplex from behind
Cecilās begs again and again, ācause heās the bad guy
They gonna go down in the main event with a banger
With Farthingtonās shoulders pinned due to JCās real anger
The Woman of Wonder reaches the end of the rampway, as pyro sparklers spray the entrance down.
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
Fool, meth aināt nothinā but a superkick away
JCās living life due or die, whatās the bracket say?
Colossus ā23, but will we live to see ā24?
The way he is winning, oh we know
Since Vickie emerged from under the ramp, itās time for her Amazing Life Partner to appear from the skies! He is flying down via a zip line from one side of the arena to the next, much like a Heartbreak Kid might, if there was such a thing. Most of JCHās face canāt be seen, as heās in a PRETTY PINKĀ© robe, hood up, with white hearts and āJC+Vā littered all over it.
Nick Stuart: From the heavens comes Jonathan-Christopher. From hell comes Vickie Hall.
Richard Parker: Quiet! Iām enjoying the performance!
Drizzy Z:
Tell me why are we so happ-i-ly
Gonna see it through, the journeyyyy
The zip line drops Jonathan-Christopher Hall off at the top of the rampway where a group of girls unhook him from the line. He stands in the center of the stage, head down, arms crossed, exactly like his ALP did moments ago as white and pink light shine off and on upon him. You can slightly see JCHās lips moving, pumping himself up for the biggest match of his life.
Drizzy Z:
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Jonathan-Christopher whips back his hood to show the most confident look heās sported in PRIME Wrestling to date. The crowd gives a cheer ā well, some. Because he is the hometown hero, after all.
JCH takes a hard first step down the ramp and marches towards his lady who waits at the ring apron.
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
Power and his honey, honey and their power
If this match was last year, JC wouldāve cowered
Everybodyās gunninā, but thank god Lee aināt bookinā
Itās going on in the kitchen, ācause JCH is cookinā
More pyro explodes as Jonathan-Christopher is halfway there. He cranks his arms around with passion and fury.
DJ Tristy-Crispy:
They say we gotta learn, thatās why Vickieās here to teach me
If she can understand it, then we can be free
I guess we can, I guess they wonāt
Iāll smoke a blunt, which is why youāll give a major fuck, fool
Arriving at his Amazing Life Partner, Jonathan-Christopher snatches her by the waist, tilts her back and they make out HARDCORE!!!! in front of everyone as even MORE pyro goes BOOM! The expensive pyro bill is likely on Vickie, as she told Lindsay Troy sheād cover the costs.
Jonathan-Christopher slides onto the apron and opens the ropes for Vickie. She strolls up the steel steps and slips in-between the top and middle rope. Her man follows.
Drizzy Z:
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Been seeing average wives
They canāt hang ācause Vickieās really nice
Jonathan-Christopher continues to pump himself up as DJ Tristy-Crispy marches up the steel steps himself, followed by Drizzy Z. Now with all four of the LOVE CONVOY in the middle of the ring, Drizzy finishes the lyrics.
Drizzy Z:
Tell me why are we so happ-i-ly
Gonna see it through, the journeyyyy
Jonathan-Christopher Hall falls to his knees and screams into the rafters.
Drizzy Z:
Tell me why are we so happ-i-ly
Gonna see it through, the journeyyyy
The music dies down. The crowd, however, does not.
LETāS GO JC!
VICKIE SUCKS!
LETāS GO JC!
VICKIE SUCKS!
The cheers are honestly a mix across the board. Thereās certainly boos for Jonathan-Christopher, as well. But one thing is for certainā¦
Everyone seemingly hates the PRETTY PINKĀ© woman.
Nick Stuart: Iā¦ have no words.
Richard Parker: What an entrance! OSCARS FOR EVERYONE!!
Vickie commands DJ Tristy-Crispy and Drizzy Z out of the ring and to the back as she beckons for her ALP to meet her in the middle of the ring once more.
Vickie Hall: Do you love me?
Jonathan-Christopher nods with passion.
But this is not exactly the passion Vickie expects so she asks it again.
Vickie Hall: Do you LOVE ME!?
A harder, more passionate JCH responds with a heavy āyesā head shake. This pleases Vickie greatly.
Vickie Hall: Win.
She slithers out of the ring and waits at the apron.
Vince Howard: This match is for ONE FALL!
RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!
Vince Howard: Already in the ringā¦ from FOLSOM, LOUISIANAā¦
The crowd gives a huge pop, since Folsom is so closeby.
Vince Howard: Weighing in at two-hundred-twenty poundsā¦ JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHER HALL!
Some of the crowd, once again, gives a surprising cheer!
Nick Stuart: I am shocked.
Richard Parker: Iām not. Heās FROM here, Nick. Heās a local!
Nick Stuart: Well, when you put it that way.
And then the waiting game for their opponentā¦
The Superdome is ushered into silence once more as the lights in the stadium dim. A small strum on a banjo begins the introduction to āJourney of the Sorcererā by The Eagles, as the PRIME*View sparks to life. As the song swells into life, the gentle tune accompanies a video package of The Five Star Championās road to this moment.
Slow motion clips of Farthington twisting and turning his opponents until he locks in Phil Atkenās Tarp are shown in the order of Farthingtonās PRIME matches, each time with a final cut to Farthington victorious, his hand held high by the referee.
First itās Adam Ellis, then former Universal Champion Rezin.
Next? The moment that Farthington claimed the Five Star Championship, his wiry arms locked around the throat of PRIMEās newest father, Coral Avalon.
As one fades, the next comes into view. Nate Colton tries valiantly to stop Farthington but ends up in the tarp, the same as the rest.
The musicās volume continues to grow, as do the murmurs in the crowd, as we reach the Almasy portion of the video package. When The Anglo Luchador falls, he does not find the sanctuary he was seeking.
Next, the legendary Brandon Youngblood, the man who won this very tournament the previous year, brutalises Cecilworth Farthington but The Tarp remains and it conquers.
This leads into the Battle of Glue Supremacy, Hanlon and Farthington fighting for their place in the food chain, a Tarp for the beautiful mustached fella is the result, same as the rest.
The package then does a curious thing for Farthingtonās second encounter with Avalon. There are no Tarps to be seen this time around, instead an arm is what is collected. As the shortened one minute thirty minute of The Eagleās song reaches its peak, we see the package zoom and pause on Farthington locking in his Article 50 cross armbreaker. As Avalonās hand hits the mat for the tap, the song stops and once again the Superdome is shrouded in darkness.
All that remains is text on the PRIME*View: āCecilworth Farthington: The Finish Line of Professional Wrestlingā.
The text remains for a bit. Not for too long, just for a moment and as it fades away, a female voice is heard, heralding forth the Almasy finalist and Five Star Champion.
āMr. Finish Lineā
Suddenly the Superdome is once again engulfed in light as an incredibly determined looking Cecilworth Farthington stands atop the entranceway. No black hoodie, just a man, his 5 Star Championship around his waist, and teeny tiny little tights.
Vulfpeckās āMr. Finish Lineā beckons Farthington towards the ring.
Richard Parker: That video may be the most beautiful thing Iāve ever seen in my life. What a hero, what a story!
Nick Stuart: Be careful colleague, you donāt want to start mentioning stories within earshot of Vickie Hall. What is clear, looking at the man walking to the ring right now, he is ready for this fight. He has toughed it out against PRIMEās very bestā¦
Richard Parker: And now he gets PRIMEās very worstā¦
Nick Stuart: JCH battled for his place here, just like Cecilworth.
As Farthington begins to walk down to the ring, the lights in the Superdome slowly dim around him, until a singular spotlight follows his journey to the ring. A journey where he has looked dead ahead the entire time, not very much paying attention to the crowd. They may be viewing him as a hero or a villain, itās all just noise to Farthington as he steps towards the ring to attempt to claim Almasy glory.
Nick Stuart: There are no Glue shenanigans tonight, Cecilworth Farthington is out here, alone. In conversations throughout the week, heās made it clear that this sport is his love and I believe that the man thinks claiming this tournament fair and square is a way of paying back some of that love.
Richard Parker: Weāve been talking about this at my most recent Farthington Fan Club meeting and we all agree the man has become unhinged, itās great! Although, going out solo when you have Vickie Hall and ringside may be a step too far.
Cecilworth hops into the ring and his spotlight follows, he takes a moment to adjust himself before he positions himself in the dead centre of the ring. He allows the Five Star Championship to glimmer in the bright lights for a few moments before ripping it off his waist and raising it high above his head.
Vince Howard: His opponent, hailing from Buckinghamshire, England, weighing in tonight at one hundred and ninety five poundsā¦ he is the self-proclaimed Finish Line of Professional Wrestling, he is the Five Star Champion, he isā¦ CECILWORTHā¦. FARTHINGTONNNNNNN.
Nick Stuart: Farthington with a little more bulk for this matchā¦
Richard Parker: He has been eating good for the past few months.
The two finalists for the 2023 Almasy Invitational are so very close, drawing near, a palpable intensity shared, nearly going chest to chest if not for Elvis Nixon standing between the two, holding them back with a press against their chests. Shockingly, itās Jonathan-Christopher who needs the most force placed upon him, his nostrils flaring, his breathing heavy, his head shaking up and down.
He is ready to go.
Farthingtonās stare is remorseless, cold, his facial features utterly stoic.
Hall tries to rip Nixon away, only to start receiving a warning from the official. The Vow of Virtue backpedals a mere step, allowing Elvis to motion to Cecilworth, giving some kind of instruction. The Financier gives only the faintest of nods. Nixon steps back, looking to the time keeper, and calls for the bell.
DING DING
Nick Stuart: And HERE weā
The instant the bell rings, JCH CHARGES forward, grabbing a double leg takedown and lifting the 5 Star Champion off his feet, driving forward and pushing him toward the turnbuckles. The connection and the drive into the corner gets a loud roar from the Superdome crowd, and once there, the not so Timid Tiger starts throwing wild punches into the sides of his opponent. For his part, Cecilworth is smothering with his arms toward the head of Hall.
Richard Parker: NOBODY would haveā
The cheer bathing the ring brings Hall out of the exchange. Brings. Farthington released the hold, and while JCH thinks he just showed the entire world that he is the best wrestler in the world, that he is truly more skilled than anyone would credit him for, that through the power of loveā
Farthington SLAPS the absolute dogshit out of Jonathan-Christopher, dropping the Vow of Virtue to the canvas.
Richard Parker: HOoooooooooooOOOYTDAMN! OOOOOOOH wow!
Nick Stuart: That wasnāt a bellclap, folks. Thatā¦just one slapā¦
JCH grabs at his cheek, his fist pounding the canvas. He gets upā¦and as he gets to a stand, Farthington open hand slaps him again. The blow is enough to have Hall stagger, and with his back now exposed, the 5 Star Champion drives the point of his elbow right into the base of his opponentās neck, dropping him to his knees.
As if riding a horse, Farthington is mounted on Hallās back, the soles of his boots still firmly planted on the canvas. JCH tries to crawl away, but all he is managing to do is expose himself to Cecilworth, who, from a lording position, bell claps the Timid Tiger. Startled, JCH tries to reach for his ears, to protect his head, but Farthington blasts him across the side of his head with the heel of his hand. And another, from the other side. Alternating strikes.
Nick Stuart: The sheer physicality of Cecilworth Farthington, the 5 Star Champion, and just the swiftness of everythingā
Richard Parker: Just short, compact blows.
Vickie, on the outside, looks as pleased as she would if you told her it was eyebrow waxing time. Jonathan-Christopher, for his part, is trying to tuck his chin, to defend himself.
Farthington dismounts, driving his boot into the base of his opponentās neck.
Nick Stuart: Cecilworth Farthingtonā¦Cecilworth Farthingtonā¦stalkingā¦hunting his prey. This match might not take long. Jonathan-Christopher, heās proven himself more capable than many would have assumedā¦
Richard Parker: The power of love can guide you to amazing thingsā¦
Nick Stuart: But the PRIME 5 Star Championā¦heās one of the most skilled and feared men in the sport for a reason. There is no wasted movement. No pantomiming. Each blow is directed strictly toward the neck.
Richard Parker: The Tarp. Itās taken down EVERYONE elseā¦
JCH tries to scamper away on his hands and knees, but Farthington is there before he can get to the end of the ring, blasting him in the face with a driving knee strike.
Richard Parker: I hope Jonathan-Christoper has dental coverageā¦good Hoytā¦
If one is expecting Farthington to offer a stitch of sympathy, then they will be disappointed. Cecilworth just grabs Hall by the head, snapping his head into canvas.
Richard Parker: Playing with his food. Savoring the moment. Thatās what Lord Cecilworth is doing here. Iām sorry Jonathan-Christopher and Vickie, but tonightās love story is about the 5 Star Champion and the sport of professional wrestling.
The Finals of the Almasy are moving at a brisk and dominant pace. The match up nobody wouldāve picked is showing exactly why it wasnāt; Jonathan-Christopher Hall is utterly outclassed by a focused Mr. Finish Line. Such a statement applies to most in wrestling. This, however, is years of training, a lifetime of passion, and inborn natural skill coming to fruition against someone still trying to figure things out.
Even some of the true greats, at such a stage of development, would be just as sacrificial.
And this is made all the more apparent as Farthington is in full mount, looking down at his opponent, throwing calculated open handed strikes to the face and neck of JCH.
Nick Stuart: Jonathan-Christopher, trying to escape this, trying to reach for the ropesā
Vickie Hall is SCREAMING at Elvis Nixon to put a stop to this, that itās against the rules.
Nick Stuart: And Vickie trying to legislate from the outside of the ring.
Richard Parker: But thereās NOTHING to do here. NOTHING! Lord Cecilworthā¦those are open handed strikes. Theyāre brutal. Theyāre vicious. And if those fists were closed, sure, Nixon might stop this. But this is just SO smart on his part.
Nick Stuart: This isā¦Jonathan-Christopher, his face and neckā¦already looking bruisedā¦looking swollenā¦just thereās been OOOH!
Jonathan-Christopher swipes WILDLY from his position, right as Cecilworth is dipping himself to throw another brutal blow, the sudden shift in movement inadvertently causing JCHās fingers to scratch at the eye of the 5 Star Champion, causing Farthington to violent reach for his eye, sending him to the canvas and out of the mouth.
Nick Stuart: Was THAT intentional?
Richard Parker: Canāt be. CANāT BE! And Farthington looks like heās in TREMENDOUS PAIN, covering his head, his legs kicking the canvasā
Nick Stuart: Jonathan-Christopher staggering away, staggering awayā¦struggling for breath, the ropesā¦heās getting up and he sees Farthingtonā
Richard Parker: This is his openingā
Nick Stuart: JCH stomping at the downed 5 Star Champion. STOMPING! He senses blood in the water, and Elvis Nixon is trying to pull him awayā
Richard Parker: Nixon trying to check on Farthingtonā
Nick Stuart: But Hallā¦Hallā¦HALLā¦DRIVING HIS KNEEā
Richard Parker: FARTHINGTON MIGHT BE IN TROUBLEā
Nick Stuart: DRIVING KNEE STRIKE! Cecilworth Farthington, heās CAUGHT, heās SURPRISEDā
Richard Parker: Itās THE EYEā
Nick Stuart: Farthington on his back LEG DROP! LEG DROP ON THE FINISH LINE OF PROFESSIONAL WRESTLINGā
Richard Parker: WHAT THE HELL! LISTEN TO THIS CROWD!
On the outside, Vickie Hall is in apoplectic ecstacy. As though she is having a certain ratherā¦INTENSE experience that would get banned on most decent television networks.
Nick Stuart: This has definitely changedā¦JCH off the ropes DIVING BODY SPLASH! DIVING BODY SPLASH! COVER!
ONE
TWā
KICKOUT!
Nick Stuart: Farthington kicking out HARD thereā
Richard Parker: But heās grabbing at his eyeā
Nick Stuart: Jonathan-Christopher trying to grab hold of Farthington, front chanceryā
Richard Parker: OOOOF!
Nick Stuart: Farthington DRIVING his forearm into the gut of Hall, and heās blinking, blinking, rubbing that eyeā
Richard Parker: Oh HEāS PISSED!
Nick Stuart: Farthington LAUNCHING himself upward with a european uppercut! And now heās up DRIVING his hip into the midsection of Hallā
Richard Parker: Heās keeping such close proximityā
Nick Stuart: RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP! And rising up SLAMMING JCHās arm and elbow into the canvas! And now heās bracing it against the mat and OHHH!! Driving his knees into the elbow!
Richard Parker: Lord Cecilworth, from what Iāve heard, is a master of the delayed cartwheel. Ami Troy was blowing up the corporate jabber channel with videos of him on kitchen countersā
Nick Stuart: And Farthington, Farthington, FARTHINGTON, heās not slowing, getting up, jerking that arm, kicking it, again, again, AGAIN!
Richard Parker: Perhaps that close call with the eye has Lord Cecilworth in a mental survival instinct mode? Directing so much brutality to the armā
Nick Stuart: I believe Farthington would be okay with hedging any bets on targets. Neck or arm, heās adept and proficient with both the rear naked choke and cross arm-breakerā
Richard Parker: Proficient isnāt how IāD term two nuclear weaponsā¦
JCH tries to fight back, trying to grab Farthingtonās legs, only to have it stuffed with ease. Cecilworth quickly transitions to north-south position, driving the point of his knee into the top of Hallās head. Knee after knee is buried, finding itās spot.
Nick Stuart: Those knees, thereās more than just the strike there.
Richard Parker: Itās the velocity. Itās the connection. Itās the way it jars the neck. Hurts the spinal cord.
Nick Stuart: Hall is trying to defend himself, but he justā¦heās out of his depth in a grappling and striking contest with the supremely skilled Farthingtonā
Richard Parker: If you know Lord Cecilworth, and I mean TRULY know Lord Cecilworth, which I do, you know that, beyond what most people know, that this sort of systematic striking and destruction has been in his DNA since the very beginning. Since his very start in this sport.
Nick Stuart: I think most would assume that someone with his pedigree in the sport would be more thanā
Richard Parker: No. I mean, at the same stage of development as Jonathan-Christopher, he was taking on the most salty and skilled grapplers and strikers in all of Europeā¦and was annihilating them. This young manā¦with all this love in his heartā¦Hallā¦he has no chance.
Each strike hits like a hammer, groans from all over at the connections. But then, the sheer brutality is becoming evident. Blood isnāt trickling; itās flowing freely. And as JCH braces against the dominating Cecilworth, Elvis Nixon puts on a pair of black nitrile medical gloves.
Nick Stuart: And the bloodā¦itās coming freelyā¦
Richard Parker: This isā¦itās like a hippopotamus mauling a child.
As if trying to make a point, Farthington lets up, letting JCH move to his side and roll over. The silly thing is, the moment Hall believes he is free, he is grabbed in a guillotine choke.
Nick Stuart: GUILLOTINE! GUILLOTINE!
Richard Parker: THIS COULD BE IT!
Early in the hold, JCH begins throwing wild punches to the side of Farthington. This only serves to irritate Cecilworth, who tightens the hold. The larger Hall tries to push, bullrushing, and manages to get to a stand. In a facelock, Farthington lifts Jonathan-Christopher up and snap suplex.
Nick Stuart: Youād think thereād be a cover hereā¦
Richard Parker: But there isnāt.
The 5 Star Champion is up to his feet, backing up. The blood smear on his kneepad is stark. Jonathan-Christopher is crawling, reaching outā¦
Nick Stuart: Is heā¦
Richard Parker: This isā¦blood is in his eyesā¦
Nick Stuart: Heās reaching out for Vickie.
Seeing her Amazing Life Partner in such a state mortifies Vickie Hall, and she would faint if not for the fact that Gladhappy and Drizzy Z (Wrestler X?) are there to catch her.
Richard Parker: The poor thingā¦sheās probably been stricken with PTSD from this moment.
Nick Stuart: It should be noted, scuttlebutt is that Vickie has been outspoken in calling Cecilworth the best wrestler in the worldā
Richard Parker: And he isā¦
Nick Stuart: And with what we know about their relationshipā
Richard Parker: Will you stop fishing and trying to ruin this amazing love? Trouble is always on the horizon in paradise.
With JCH in his sights, Farthington backs up, getting a running start.
Nick Stuart: Uh ohā¦he could be looking for the Penalty Kickā
Richard Parker: And heās got his aim trained onā
Nick Stuart: Farthington rushing forward PENALTY KICKā
Richard Parker: HE COLLAPSED!
Nick Stuart: THE PENALTY KICK MISSED! JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHER COULDNāT KEEP HIMSELF UP, AND FARTHINGTON JUST KICKED THE BOTTOM TURNBUCKLEā
Richard Parker: WAIT!
Nick Stuart: ROLL UP!
Richard Parker: THE TIGHTS!
ONE!
TWO!
THRāKICKOUT!
Nick Stuart: FARTHINGTON JUST ESCAPED! And heās MORTIFIEDā
Richard Parker: Wait! WAIT!
Nick Stuart: BACK RAKE!
Richard Parker: HE GOT HIS CLAWS IN HIM!
Nick Stuart: Farthington yelping andā¦oh myāWAISTLOCK! GERMAN SUPLEX!
Richard Parker: THAT ACTUALLY KIND OF LOOKS GOODā
Nick Stuart: JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHER maintaining the holdā
Richard Parker: He canāt beā
Nick Stuart: Rolling the hips GERMAN SUPLEX! FARTHINGTONāS ARMS GOING WILDā
Richard Parker: THIS CANāT BE HAPPENINGā
Nick Stuart: AND ANOTHER GERMAN SUPLEX! A TRIO OF GERMAN SUPLEXES!
Releasing, JCH pushes himself up, the staggering, wobbly Farthington there to meet him.
Nick Stuart: CHASING VICKIE!
The HEAVY running back elbow connects, flattening Farthington, but also causing him to ricochet back up.
Nick Stuart: This burst of energy, this burst of energy, he might, he mightā
The support of all Hallās āfriendsā are going mad. The fans in the Superdome are going wild. The impossible is happening. And with the 5 Star Champion is ripe for the taking. Staggering back to his feet, Hall throws a wild fist in the air, his face covered in his own blood. He nearly falls into the corner, but once he braces himself, he gets an idea.
With as much pep as he has in his step, JCH climbs the corner, and, brushing blood from his eyes, leaps.
Nick Stuart: HEāS ALL THATā
Richard Parker: OH MY GOD!
Nick Stuart: FARTHINGTON WAS UP AND PENALTY KICKED JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHER HALL! OH MY GOOD LORD!
Richard Parker: MY GOOD LORD FARTHINGTON!
Farthington does what he should in this situation, hooking the leg.
ONE
TWO
THREEEEEEE
NO!
JUST in the nick of time.
Nick Stuart: JUST a two count! But my LORD!
That JCH got his shoulder off the mat at all is a minor miracle. Farthington, for his part, picks the Timid Tiger off the mat, slamming him back down before snapping a kick at his head. Following up, the 5 Star Champion drops to the canvas, mounting Hall and smacking him with openhanded strikes. Another and another. The blows transition to forearm shots. Each one is heavy. Devastating. Elvis Nixon thinks of maybe stopping this assault, in maybe stopping the contest. Hall tries, with all his might, to get away, trying to roll over.
Itās then that the scariest thing in the world happens.
Nick Stuart: THE TARP!
Richard Parker: THE TARP!
Nick Stuart: REAR NAKED CHOKEā
Richard Parker: HALLā
Nick Stuart: HALL THROWS HIS HEAD BACK!
Richard Parker: FARTHINGTONāS BLEEDING FROM HIS MOUTH!
Nick Stuart: If he had gotten that in firm, this would be over, but just the threat of those arms, that holdā
Richard Parker: Are you telling meā
Both men are slow to rise, Farthington spitting a gob of his own blood out, Jonathan-Christopher brushing his eyes as best as he can. JCH throws a wild haymaker, but the 5 Star Champion hits a mule kick, then a European uppercut. Another European uppercut. Cecilworth grabs hold of a front facelock, then blasts Hall with another European uppercut, then grabbing his head and slamming his body to the mat.
Then, he grabs the wrists of Jonathan-Christopher.
Nick Stuart: What is heā¦
Richard Parker: I think this is going to get more and more uncomfortableā
Nick Stuart: OH MY WORD! CECILWORTH FARTHINGTON IS STOMPING ON THE THROAT OF JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHER HALL!
Richard Parker: Youā¦Elvisā¦I think you have toā¦
Nick Stuart: VICIOUS! CONSTANT PRESSURE! This isā¦MY WORD!
Richard Parker: THIS IS BRUTAL!
The serial killer death glower in Farthingtonās face says it all, as does the intensity of his attack. With one final blow, he grinds his heel into the throat of Hall, then grabs at his arm, ripping it off the canvas, slamming it into the canvas. Then, grabbing it again, he wedges JCHās palm into the canvas, stomping on his elbow, all before turning it around and grabbing and pulling Hallās arm behind his back, then driving the point of his knee into the back of Hallās neck.
Nick Stuart: Mister Finish Lineā
Richard Parker: WAITā
Nick Stuart: TRISTAN CRISPINā
Gladhappy canāt take it anymore. And he isnāt alone. The bulky camera in his hands is brandished with intent as he gets onto the apron. Elvis Nixon looks to put a stop to this before the worst comes to pass.
He, however, is beat to the punch.
Nick Stuart: FARTHINGTON YANKS TRISTAN CRISPIN GLADHAPPY INTO THE RINGā
Richard Parker: I wouldnāt want toā
Nick Stuart: WORTHLESS! WORTHLESS! Fisherman buster, and he kicks TCG out of the ring!
Richard Parker: Taking control. Taking full control! The center of the sport! The greatest! This is HIS moment! HisāWAITā
Nick Stuart: CHOP BLOCK!
Richard Parker: WAAAAAAAAAAAAIT!
Jonathan-Christopher drives his shoulder into the back of Farthingtonās knee, hitting a knee drop to the crumpling Farthington. Another front facelock, and a DDT connects. A cover!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Farthington manages to kickout, but JCH maintains a front facelock, and, with a loud yell, drops Farthington with a falcon arrow suplex. ANOTHER cover.
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
But before Cecilworth can respondā¦
Nick Stuart: ANOTHER DDT! WHAT IS GOING ON HEREā
Richard Parker: Itās like every time he cheats, Hall gets a charge, like heās Popeye with his spinachā
Nick Stuart: Justā¦and Hall, staggering, in survival mode, he is on the middle corner, rising up, his hands up to the skyā
Richard Parker: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaitā
Nick Stuart: THE SPACE BETWEEN US! THE SPACE BETWEEN US! FROG SPLASH! COOOOOOOVER!
ONE
TWO
THREEEEā
KICKOUT!
JUST IN THE NICK OF TIME!
Nick Stuart: I canāt, I canāt, I canāt BELIEVEā
Richard Parker: Farthington has beaten so many of the very best, and thisā¦this storyā¦waitā
Nick Stuart: He canāt beā¦
Richard Parker: Theā¦The Tarp? From Jonathan-Christopher Hall?
Feeling himself, Hall grabs hold of Cecilworthās neck with a rear naked choke. The first moments, Farthington begins to suffocate. Then, his eyes shoot open. His blood curdles. Anger. Rage. His hands grab at the forearm of JCH, and the back of his head blasts JCHās face. Right into the bridge of his nose. The intensity is such that, if it wasnāt for the blood from his head, JCHās nose might be visibly gushing blood.
The āTarpā is released. But Farthington, he isnāt done. His hands smash into the face of Hall, then forearms. Blow after blow. Rising up, the 5 Star Champion drives his heel into the head of Hall.
Lifting him up, a kitchen sink knee. Ripping his head and throwing him to the canvas. More stomps. Stalking and stalking.
Nick Stuart: Thisā¦thisā¦
Richard Parker: Elvis! Elvis! Stop the damn match! Heās gonna kill him!
The Tarp. This son of a bitch tried to rear naked choke Lord Cecilworth Farthington? The audacity. The AUDACITY! If this son of a bitch was going to do that? How about showing him what Mr. Finish Line is ALL about? Stomps to the arm. Kicks. A double foot stomp. Grabbing the wrist and throwing the arm to the canvas. Jerking at the arm and driving his knee into it.
This intensity, this focus, itās disgusting. Like prison. Jonathan-Christopher is in utter agony, yelping, yelling, SCREAMING. Screaming out in pain. A cut of the arm. The camera zooms in on the face of the 5 Star Champion as he yells out a declaration.
Cecilworth Farthington: ARTICLE. FIFTY!
Richard Parker: YESSSSSS!
Nick Stuart: HEāS CALLING FOR THE CROSS ARM BREAKERā
And as he does, JCH is screaming outā¦
For Vickie.
And she hears him.
Getting on the apron.
And she screams at Farthington to stop just as heās about to hit the cross armbreaker and break the arm of his opponent, claiming the Almasy for himself. But he sees Elvis Nixon making a beeline toward her. Sheās going to rob him of this moment. This gloryhound. This utter blight. All his sacrifice, all his hardwork, and sheās going to steal it from him. No.
No she isnāt. He drops arm, and beelines to Vickie Hall. What he does shocks everyone. Because without hesitationā
Nick Stuart: CALF KICK TO VICKIE HALL!
The blow sends Vickie to the apron in a heap with a yelp. She grabs at her leg. Cecilworth Farthington might well have broken her leg in the process.
Richard Parker: WAITā
Nick Stuart: JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHERā
Richard Parker: WAAAAAAAAAIT A MINUTEā
Nick Stuart: THE TIGHTāS
ONE!
Richard Parker: WHAT THEā
TWO!
Nick Stuart: ALL OF HIS BODY WEIGHTā
THREE!
Farthington kicks out, and after getting caught with a roll up and with the tight pull, heās leaving NOTHING to chance! The heap that is Jonathan-Christopher Hall is unable to defend himself from the array of stomps to the arm, to the head, to the neck. A double foot stomp. And to seal the deal, The 5 Star Champion pulls Jonathan-Christopher Hall off the canvas, looking to hit him with Worthless.
Except for one thing.
Elvis Nixon is RIPPING him off of JCH.
Staggering, Farthingtonās eyes are wide as JCH crumples in a heap. If Nixon is trying to defend Hall so that this match doesnāt endā¦
Nick Stuart: Cecilworth trying to push Nixon asideā
Richard Parker: Did weā
The fans in the Superdome are on their feet and in utter shock. The wall of sound enveloping the ring makes it impossible for Cecilworth Farthington to hear the tones around him.
Propped up against the corner, Jonathan-Christopher Hall stares back at Farthington, battered, bloody, utterly destroyed, but he beckons him, ready for more. And Cecilworth is ready to deliver.
Until Elvis Nixon raises the hand of Jonathan-Christopher Hall.
Richard Parker: WHAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?!
Nick Stuart: Folksā¦FOLKSā¦
Cecilworth Farthington doesnāt understand. Then, it dawns on him. What he is seeing. What he is hearing. Aerosmith. Donāt Miss A Thing.
Vickie Hall, as best as she can, rolls into the ring, pressing against her Amazing Life Partner. Bewildered. Shocked.
Vince Howard: THE WINNER OF THIS MATCHā¦
A look of mortification envelops her features.
Vince Howard: AND THE WINNER OF THE 2023 SEYMOUR ALMASY INVITATIONAL TOURNAMENTā¦
She isnāt the only one in the ring with this look.
Vince Howard: JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONATHAN! CHRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISTOPHER! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL!
Nick Stuart: OH MY GOD! JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHER HALL COMPLETED HIS STORY!
Richard Parker: THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE!
The Amazing Life Partners nuzzle close to each other, battered, bruised, weary. JCHās blood freely falls all over Vickie. And as grabs hold of Jonathan-Christopher, he eyes, wild, her smile, utterly rictis, contented. Her impossible dream made manifest.
And with nothing left to give, after perhaps the greatest run of victories in ANY tournament in the HISTORY of PRIME, undefeated, unconquerable, the standard of dominanceā¦Cecilworth Farthington falls to his knees in utter disbelief.
The fireworks going off arenāt for him. They are sparkled hearts celebrating the culmination of the greatest love story ever told.
At the same time, they are the distant cry of something else.
The greatest heartbreak in the history of professional wrestling.
LOVE.
IS.
REAL.
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