Revolution 6/9/21

[Danny]

As the opening video finishes, things go live to the inside of the arena as pyrotechnics go off from the stage and the camera pans around to get a shot of the Revolution fans in attendance before panning to the commentary table where Corey Graves, Mauro Ranallo, and Tom Phillips are standing by.



Tom Phillips: Hello ladies and gentlemen and welcome to another great edition of Revolution. I’m Tom Phillips.

Mauro Ranallo: I’m Mauro Ranallo.

Corey Graves: And I’m Corey Graves.

Tom Phillips: Tonight we’ve got Eddie Kingston taking on LA Knight.

Corey Graves: In tag team action, the new partnership of Randy Orton and Matt Sydal take on the team of John Cena and Eve Torres.

Tom Phillips: We’ll also see Drew Galloway mix it up with Rob Conway in a non-title match.

Mauro Ranallo: Chad Gable and Seth Rollins will also square off.

Corey Graves: Also scheduled, CM Punk and Fujita will throw down.

Tom Phillips: And in our non-title main event, WARHORSE and AJ Styles are set to clash.

Mauro Ranallo: But first on tap, Super Dragon versus the returning Ciampa and that match starts right now!



DING! DING!

Tony Chimel: The following contest is a singles contest scheduled for one fall, introducing first…



As the guitar and the kick drums of Velvet Revolver’s hit begin to kick in Excalibur walks out in a suit looking smug in his mask, as the guitars get faster and the first “Hey!” is heard Super Dragon menacingly walks out and he just slowly marches to the ring as Excalibur follows his friend close behind. Once in the ring Super Dragon marches into a corner and waits while Excalibur yells at the fans.

Tony Chimel: Hailing from Orange County, California, weighing in at 225 pounds and being accompanied by Excalibur, he is SUPER DRAGON!”

Super Dragon doesn’t budge from his corner but the fans can’t help but clap along with Excalibur CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP “SUPER DRAGON!”
CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP however Dragon just awaits his opponent.



The heartbeat of No one will survive kicks in as Ciampa walks out onto stage, his head hung low he turns and stares menacingly at the ring, making his way down he ignores the hand slaps of the audience.

Tony Chimel: Making his way to the ring from Boston, Massachusetts weighing in tonight at 201lbs he is the "Psycho Killer" Tommaso Ciampa.

Ciampa slides into the ring and his mood immediately changes, charging into the corner he climbs to the second turnbuckle and bangs a fist on his chest before jumping off and walking back and forth in his corner.

DING! DING!

Corey Graves: The long awaited return of the former DIY member, Tomasso Ciampa here tonight, coming along to face the formidable Super Dragon.

Mauro Ranallo: It sure is an attraction, throughout the many stints Ciampa has had here in the UWF they’ve all been true to himself. I have a feeling the higher ups might keep him around more than a month if he puts on a good performance here tonight.

The two glare at each other and then collide into each other with a big ol’ fashioned lockup in the middle of the ring, jockeying for position. Excalibur pumps Super Dragon up by relentlessly slamming down his hand on the apron like a bad PWG fan, as Dragon goes and slightly overpowers Ciampa, pushing him back two steps.

Knowing that it’d be extremely bad to give into Super Dragon’s adrenaline, Ciampa grabs a hold of a wristlock, twisting and turning it in to get that sucker wrenching and halting any momentum he wanted to steamroll Ciampa with. Ciampa leans into it, stepping out for a bit more leverage into it. Excalibur heckles from ringside for him to bring the pain, slam ‘em right in the head or something.

Tom Phillips: Ciampa proving a denial of past mistakes clearly noted by the team of Super Dragon here tonight.

Super Dragon is really feeling the leverage and pain of the wrist lock and stomps down on Ciampa’s foot to release the leverage he had in that hold, and then ducks under quickly and lifts up Tommasso Ciampa, turning with a belly to back suplex, slamming him roughly down to the mat. Disoriented, Ciampa stumbles back to his feet, and Super Dragon lays a hip strike to him, and locks him into a lethal standard headlock.

Mauro Ranallo: Super Dragon denying to be a victim from the Psycho Killer.

Cheering at ringside, and as usual beefing with the fans sitting ringside area, Excalibur walks around and Super Dragon keeps an eye on him to make sure he’s not getting kicked out by security, again, but continues to tighten in on the hold that he has on Ciampa. Dragon slips Ciampa over his side and grounds the headlock, tightening it up real good.

He looks around and sees Excalibur having a heated, rough conversation with a fan with a lot of facial hair underneath his chin, looking pretty personally offended, clearly seen by his face covered by his luchador mask. This makes Super Dragon not realise the fact that Ciampa made it out of the hold when he was getting flipped over and faces a boot to the face for that.

Tom Phillips: Gheez, the Psycho Killer is a sly killer.

Corey Graves: He literally just rolled away and kept quiet Tom, don’t give him that much credit.

Ciampa takes Super Dragon by the head and takes him to the corner, hitting a forearm, a strike, another forearm and a sweep of the legs making Super Dragon crash down on his behind roughly. Ciampa taunts and rallies up the crowd with a bit of hype, and then runs to the other side of the ring and hits a big knee smashing into the side of the head. Ciampa quickly pulls him out by his leg and hooks the leg as the referee counts the fall.

One...

Super Dragon swiftly kicks out at one and looks over to his #1 encouraging fan, Excalibur. Ciampa pulls him up by his arm, and then whips him over to the ropes. He leaps right up and over Super Dragon, and spins down to drop down and Dragon hops over, running to the other side of the ring. Ciampa runs back and both of them swing for a clothesline, laying each other flat out on their back hard.

They both roll around in pain of both eating a move, as Excalibur yells for Super Dragon to pull out the cat in the bag and dump that Ciampa dude right on his noggin.

Mauro Ranallo: Both down! It’s room for either to capitalise now.

Corey Graves: It’s really anyone’s game when it goes back and forth like that- wait who’s that?

Tom Phillips: I think it’s- it’s Billie Kay?! What is she doing out here?

Billie Kay begins walking down the ramp with neither man in the ring noticing but definitely feeling the presence of someone not liked here in this arena from the lukewarm reception. Excalibur shares this common consensus. She raises her arms up, she’s not here for a fight. Ciampa rolls onto his stomach and looks down the ramp and sees the woman walking their way, but she points directly at him, smiling and continuing this confident strut.

Tom Phillips: Billie Kay out here to watch some wrestling, not to start a fight here tonight.

Corey Graves: Yeah right, who comes out here as a pacifist?

Ciampa gets his footing first but it’s shortly followed by Super Dragon pulling himself up on the ropes, running towards Dragon and nailing a forearm hitting clean up on the side of their head. There is a short pause as he pulls him out and then hits a knee to their midsection and smacks an axe handle down on the back of Super Dragon.

Mauro Ranallo: Wearing down the spirit of Super Dragon here.

Billie mockingly claps on the outside, seemingly not phasing anyone but the fans. Ciampa claps, with a bit of bewildered spirit from the crowd from not appreciating Billie Kay’s mockery. They continue with this momentum, as Super Dragon stumbles back up to his feet. Ciampa runs to the ropes, and comes back with a high jumping knee stunning Super Dragon right in his spot. Ciampa then ducks under Super Dragon, gaining a waistlock and then throwing him overhead with a german suplex, with both men getting up from momentum and Ciampa lays him out with a massive lariat, making Super Dragon stumble down to the ground.

Tom Phillips: Ciampa making this one go his way.

Ciampa hooks the leg.

One…

Two…

Super Dragon kicks out and Billie Kay mocks vigorously on the outside as even Excalibur questions how heavily she’s pursuing antagonising Tomasso Ciampa here tonight. Ciampa gets back up slowly and looks around as the fans chant his name, he leads Super Dragon by his mask to the ropes and throws him through onto the apron and looks around as they cheer, this can only mean one thing. He rallies them up.

Mauro Ranallo: Tomasso Ciampa looking to put a close on this match here with a bell to cause three rings of the bell!

Corey Graves: He better not waste his time focusing on these fans or it’ll cost him!

Billie screams towards Ciampa abuse, as does Excalibur to try and distract him, his head darts between the two of them. Super Dragon takes this opportunity to slam his shoulder into his midsection, and then jump up for an enziguri on the apron, he then climbs through the ropes and gets fully in the ring.

Corey Graves: Oh, Ciampa is in trouble now.

Super Dragon hadn’t really brought a lot of super violent offense so far, but that comes to a screeching halt as he pulls in Ciampa for a spike piledriver taking him down on top of his head, almost out of nowhere. The fans react crazily to Super Dragon’s overkill way of pulling an end to this. He then yanks up Ciampa to his feet by his arm.

Tom Phillips: You gotta pray for Ciampa.

Mauro Ranallo: Mamma.

He throws him into the corner and pushes him up to the top rope, and doesn’t care for anything around him. He pulls Ciampa onto his shoulder and then slams him down hard onto the mat with a Psycho Driver! Dropping him on his head yet again.

One…

Two…

Three!

DING! DING!



Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, Super Dragon.

The fans relentlessly chant the name of the victor as Billie Kay smugly walks back down the ramp. Excalibur gets in the ring, telling the referee to get the fuck outta here and raises his hand high. Ciampa, clearly disoriented by getting just dropped on his head twice, still looks pretty angry about that loss. WE, DO, INDEED, HEAD, ELSEWHERE, BABY.






The Firefly Funhouse opens with an unusually empty home, the camera starts to pan side to side as if looking for anyone, when from the corner of the screen you see a bright puppet pop up and the camera cuts to him.



Breezy The Peacock: Ladies and Gentleman, Breezy has entered the building. Of course, usually when this happens all focus is pulled to the single greatest piece of deliciousness the windows to the soul has ever witnessed. So it can seem like the existence of any other living thing can be at most an afterthought and in reality irrelevant, but just to educafy you...in the current moment, the room is in actuality empty. The house is usually a busy and full of motion, or at least I assume that's what uggos do I'm usually too busy to notice. But as far as right now, I know that Brandyn is out planning something or other for the funhouse and he took most of the other fuglies with him. Something about introductions, new faces, plans, something something I stopped listening when it wasn't about Me because...who cares about anything that isn't about me? I think he was trying to trick me into thinking it was about me, because he kept looking at me when talking but I'm too smart to fall-

Breezy trails off as his peacock head turns to see his reflection on one of the mirror like circles on his 'tailfeathers', after a few moments of distracted staring it speaks again.

But enough about me talking about people not talking about me, let's talk about me talking about me. I've been absent from the Funhouse for a bit, I'm not exactly sure why but I feel like the correct answer is overexposure to gorgeousness so let's go with that. And the reason why you've been denied the majesty of my-

The lights begin to flicker in the funhouse, and static glitches onto the frame. The camera switches back to the full funhouse view as static and lights flash on screen. Bray Wyatt suddenly pops into frame, his eyes closed shut as he seems to be speaking in tongues.



Wyatts eyes open, and they look red and puffy as if he's in a lot of pain. But after a moment of staring into the lens, he gets a big smile and waves as if nothing is wrong.

Bray Wyatt: Hiii everyone, and Welcome! To the Firefly Funhouse! I'm oh so sorry I was late, last week I was supposed to give my thoughts on the G1 Climax, talk about retaining my precious UWF Championship, and the status of the Firefly Funhouse. And yet all of that fell by the wayside, not only that, but Randall Orton and Matthew Sydal pulled a hilarious prank on me that put egg All over my face. Well, here in the Firefly Funhouse...we've decided to have a bit of a renovation. One year after I returned, at Backlash...on the day of my birth...I didn't just have a simple win planned for such an occasion. No I have a whole heapin pile of plans for Season 2 hahahaaa. There's the Seth Rollins special, the opening of the Funhouse doors to even MORE blast from the past, and the change of something you all have been livin with for so long you didn't think possible. All of that and Much much more, but in all these preparations and changes going on here in the Funhouse hahahaah

Wyatt starts to chuckle, but his face drops turning serious, as you're able to see the red in his eyes as he speaks in a monotone voice.



I have had no time to myself, Every waking minute is devoted to the betterment of this house for all of you, and it's left me not at my best. That is when you are weakest, when snake is able to crawl in and bite you...But like always, as I'm preparing things and maintaining the Funhouse...there is someone Protecting it. And if two little snakes want to try and crawl in and take advantage of the busy time, then they will soon learn that they have slithered their skins into the Very Wrong House.

The camera pans into Wyatts eyes but he suddenly pops a smile back on his face and continues.

So do mind the mess around here for the next couple of days, we're under construction. But the surprises are all going to be worth it, so to Everyone in that big fun G1 Climax. As you compete with others to solidify your name in the annals of UWF history, I want you each to remember...What your prize will be at the end of the Climax. Every Climax, has a falling action and a resolution. And That resolution may not be for the feint of heart. I've got my fingers in a lot of pots right now, and yet I don't think any of those little pots know exactly what's to come for them. But don't you worry your lil heads my fireflies, I'm sure each and every one of them will be getting what's coming to them oh so very soon...and all you need to do is remember... that I will always be here to light the way, and all you have to do...Is Let me in...Byyyyyyye See ya!




Our scene cuts backstage as we're met with the imagery of LA Knight. The self professed mega star would waste no time, in addressing us, the viewers.



LA KNIGHT
Eyes up here, dummy. L-A Knight has a little bit to get off his chest. In just a few short moments, I'm scheduled to walk out to that ring, make an example out of Eddie Kingston, and afterwards -- I'm supposed to make my way to the back like nothin' happened. Not gonna cut it, jack. L-A Knight KNOWS what it's like to compete against the BEST in the world, and I'm already being thrown the scraps. This bottom feeder might have some notoriety around those bingo halls, but L-A Knight came to the UWF to make a name for himself, YEAAAAAUH! I came here to show that I'm above the rest. That I'm on the fast track to the top of this company, you feel me?  Like it or not, dweebs -- There isn't a man or woman alike who can hold their own against, L-A Knight. You're looking at the future of this company. A future champion in the makin'. That's not a promise, that's L-A Knight certified, YEAAAAAUH! See, L-A Knight knows that the landscape of these dummies are gonna talk. They're going to walk around thinking they'll have a chance to get one up on L-A Knight, but that's not the case, buddy. For any of those boys who think they'll have any chance in the world at making an example out of L-A Knight, they're sadly mistaken. I'll smack the the taste right out of their mouths, and I'll walk straight out of that ring as I always do! A winner, YEAAAAAUH! Eat your heart out, story of my life -- Eddie Kingston, give me a break. Sad excuse, out of shape dork, and loser galore. Nobody can hold a candle to L-A Knight, that's just not an opinion. That's not a threat. That's simply just a FACT OF LIFE, YEAAAAAUH! 

The camera would pan away from LA Knight as we would transition to a graphic hyping up an appearance next week for LA Knight's talk show -- Fact Of Life. 






DING DING!

Tony Chimel: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first...



Deftones' "Elite" hits the PA like a sledgehammer and from the back emerges the first UWF Prime Time Medal holder, a scowl worn plainly on his face and the medal hung around his neck like he won it at the Olympics. Drew Galloway marches straight down the ramp, his hair hanging over his face as the fans boo. When the big man reaches the foot of the ramp, he lifts his hands to grab the top rope and hauls himself to the apron, then steps over that rope and into the squared circle, climbing the nearest turnbuckle to roar and strike his signature pose.



Tony Chimel: From Ayr, Scotland and weighing in at 265 pounds, he is the bearer of the Prime Time Medal, Drew GALLOWAY!

Galloway climbs down from the top turnbuckle as his name is announced and sheds his coat and the medal, passing them to a ringside attendant before performing some pre-match stretches in his corner as he waits for the beginning of the action.

Tony Chimel: And the opponent...





That piano, that voice, it can only mean one thing - it's time for 'The Conman'. The crowd immediately begin to boo and jeer as Conway makes his way out onto the stage sauntering along and pointing to himself. Conway makes a point of pointing to his mouth, singing along with every word of his entrance music. He quickly poses for the not so adoring crowd before strutting his way down the ramp, still singing along to his theme.

Tony Chimel: Introducing, from New Albany, New Jersey. Weighing in at 234 pounds, he is 'The Conman'... Rob Conway!

Conway hops up onto the ring apron and spins round, pointing to each of his abdominal muscles looking mighty proud of himself before he steps through the ropes and into the ring. Conway heads to the ropes and leans over the top rope, foot on the middle rope, one finger high into the air as he continues to sing along with his entrance theme. Conway struts around the ring afterward, refusing to take of his sunglasses before the match starts, a symbol of his arrogance.

DING DING!

As the ring bell sounds, Drew connects with a Glasgow Kiss that sends Rob staggering backward as he catches himself on the ropes. As Conway tries to regain his bearings, Galloway clobbers him with a Pump Kick as the, “Con Man” goes tumbling backward over the rope but manages to land on his feet. Rob reaches into the ring under the bottom rope, seizing the legs of his opponent, but Drew hops back to avoid and then hops forward, stomping on the hands of the Television Champion. As Rob pulls his hands away and tries to shake feeling back into them, Galloway comes through the ropes with a Suicide Dive to knock him into the barricade as he then falls to the ground. Drew pulls Conway to his feet and goes to Irish Whip him but Rob reverses and instead it’s the, “Scottish Psychopath” that goes for a ride as he stops just short of the ring post but Rob comes running up behind him and connects with a Double Axe Handle to the back of the head, knocking him into the post. He then follows up with a Side Russian Leg Sweep.

As Galloway lies there in a daze, Rob stomps on him a few times before sitting him up and delivering a kick between the shoulder blades. Drew begins to stand up after this hit as Rob throws a punch to the back of the head and connects. The Intercontinental contender gets to a vertical base and whips around to face Conway, the look on his face letting the, “Con Man” know that he’s made a mistake. Rob quickly pivots and dives into the ring as Drew climbs up onto the apron. As he’s entering the ring, Conway starts smothering him with a flurry of punches but Drew pushes him off forcefully, allowing him to re-enter the ring but Rob is up quickly, back in Galloway’s face throwing punches. Drew blocks one with his arm and kicks Conway in the stomach, then grabs him as he hunches over and lifts him up, connecting with a Pumphandle Flatliner. As Rob visibly has the wind knocked out of him on the landing, he sits up as Drew leads him halfway up and grabs him around the waist, applying the Gutwrench. He hoists Conway up and connects with the Border Toss but Rob bumps into the referee and both men are knocked down.

As Galloway seethes about this, he approaches Rob, who delivers a straight punch to the groin. As Drew is hunched over holding his Scottish pride, Conway backs into the nearest corner and charges Drew, connecting with a Claymore! Rob crawls into the cover as the referee comes to.

ONE!



TWO!



THREE!

DING DING DING!

Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, Rob Conway!

Rob celebrates the win in the most showboat way possible as the crowd boos.

Tom Phillips: Well it wasn’t fair how he did it, but Rob Conway just put a win on his G1 record.

Mauro Ranallo: Next week he faces the winner of tonight’s main event and either of those rematches could be explosive.

Corey Graves: Things continue to heat up around here for sure but don’t go anywhere because there’s a lot more action coming!

As Conway is now heading up the ramp singing to his theme song, Revolution continues elsewhere.



The scene opens up with Paul Heyman on the other end of a phone call with a very concerned look on his face. He listens for a few more moments before telling them to ‘forward him the bill’ and then he ends the call. Heyman shakes his head as he turns around to a dejected Seth Rollins.




Paul Heyman: That was the hospital updating me on Josh Matthews condition. I should forward that bill onto you but I’ll save you the grace this one time. I mean what the hell was that last week?


Seth Rollins tries to muster a response, but only manages to lift his arms up, but they fall back down to his side. Seth seems unenthusiastic and lethargic with his inability to answer Heyman’s legitimate question.


Paul Heyman: I mean a curbstomp to man just doing his job and giving an interview? What the hell is going on Seth?


The silence from Seth Rollins is as deafening as a bass drum. The look in his eyes, slightly glossed over with no remorse or life in sight.


Paul Heyman: Hello, is anyone in here? Are you hearing a single word that I’m saying? A hardworking man who was set to interview more people here was put in the hospital because of YOU!


Paul Heyman begins to snap his fingers in Seth’s face and he finally gets a response from the Messiah.


Seth Rollins: I just.. lost control. I don’t know what came over me.. I was hit with an uncontrollable rage that I just couldn’t shake off me.


Paul Heyman: Do you hear yourself? Get it together Seth! The last two losses aren’t big deals, but THIS?! Losing all sense of self control and handing out a concussion like a cookie? This isn’t jail or an asylum! You’ve got to get your head out of your ass and pronto. This is the biggest tournament of the year and you can’t just piss it all away, you understand?


A bit of life comes back into the eyes and body of Seth as the encouraging words makes the way into his ears.


Paul Heyman: Tonight is your opportunity to bounce back against Chad Gable. This is the chance for you to turn everything around in your favor, but you must step up to the plate! Are you able and ready for the task?


Seth looks down to the ground with no response, it takes a few moments before he faces Heyman face to face.




Seth Rollins: I never have to get ready, I’m always ready.


Paul Heyman: That’s what I like to hear, let’s turn things around in this tournament and keep moving forwards towards the light at the end of the tunnel.


The two walk off from the scene as it fades to black.





We head back to the ring where Eddie Kingston is already in the ring, warming up for his match.


 

The sound of "Thank God I'm Not You", by Himalayas radiates over the arena as a chorus of jeers radiate over the arena as the name "LA Knight," flows across the borders of the ring barriers -- Allowing all the people to realize what's to come. A few seconds pass before, Knight would emerge from behind the curtains as he would fixate his gaze down the entrance ramp. Ignoring the pleads of the crowd, Knight thrusted his way down the entrance ramp, as Tony Chimel would introduce our brash talent.

TONY CHIMEL: Hailing from Los Angeles, California, at 230 pounds. He is the self professed "Mega Star of the UWF," L-A KNIIIIIIIIIIGHT!

In unison with the words of Chimel, Knight would flow his arms back and forth, with the announcement of his name. He would kick past the crowd, setting his sights onto the steel steps. Making his way up the steps, Knight climbs the turnbuckle, before throwing both of his arms upwards, adjusting his hands in his signature pose. Business was about to pick up, ladies and gentleman.




DING DING DING


Kingston is pacing back and forth, ready to fight while Knight stays in his corner, beckoning him away while trying to stretch out his hammies by the ropes. Kingston wants to go right on the attack but with Knight's hands clasped around the ropes, the ref keeps Eddie at bay, standing in his way. Eddie argues that the bell rung but as he's talking to the ref, Knight comes running over and blindsides him with a Forearm to the face! Eddie goes down and Knight continues his onslaught with a barrage of kicks. Eddie crawls back into the corner where Knight continues to stomp away at him until the ref reaches a 4 count. Knight backs off but comes right back to him, bringing him up to a vertical base. Not one to be manhandled, Eddie hits him with a shot right to the liver that brings his opponent down to his knees. Kingston follows up with a headbutt and Knight falls back, rolling out of the ring.

He's holding his ribs while Eddie rolls out and follows him from behind. Knight thinks he's put some space between the two but when he turns around, Eddie is there to meet with a jab to the jaw! Eddie grabs Knight's arms and tells two fans in the crowd to hold Knight's arms out. They oblige and Kingston delivers a knife edge chop to the chest that has fans in the front row wincing.


Corey Graves: That should be a disqualification right there!

Tom Phillips: Nothing wrong with keeping the fans engaged in a match.

Corey Graves: Well I hope two fans come over here and pulls both your arms until they rip them right off. Mauro and I can handle commentary by ourselves.


Eddie smiles at the pain he's causing Knight but LA suddenly rushes forward and rams Kingston back first into the ring apron! He pulls Kingston out a bit and then rams him once again! He then tosses him into the ring and follows him in. Eddie tries to rush back to his feet but he's feeling the effects of the attacks on his lower back. Knight gives him a double sledge to the back of the neck causing him to fall to his knees. He takes Eddie's head and spins him out for a Neckbreaker! He goes for the first pin of the match!



1 . . .



2 . . .



Kingston kicks out! Knight brings him back up to his feet and lifts him up onto his shoulders. He's positioning him for the Gravy Train but Kingston slides all the way down his back and flips over, trying to catch him with a sunset flip. Knight however manages to keep himself upright to avoid the pin. He instead jumps up high to drop a knee onto Kingston but Eddie rolls out of the way just in time! Knight limps away but Kingston is up and he runs over and takes out Knight with a Lariat! Knight rushes up to his feet and tries to get away but Eddie grabs him from behind, hooking both arms behind him and hitting a Tiger Suplex! Kingston makes the pin!



1 . . .



2 . . .



Knight kicks out! Eddie picks Knight up but LA gives him a knee to the gut. Eddie gets the wind knocked out of him and retreats to the corner. Knight comes after him but Eddie rushes out the corner as well, both men coliidjng in the center of the ring with a Double Clothesline!


Mauro Ranallo: Both men thinking the same thing there.

Corey Graves: Eddie probably stole the idea from watching a match of Knight's if you ask me.

Tom Phillips: It was a clothesline...

Corey Graves: Kingston's a no good low life

Tom Phillips: Sound like you guys would get along perfectly then.



Knight and Kingston pull themselves up by the ropes each on a different corner of the ring. Once both men are up they begin to approach one more time. Kingston beggin Knight to finish it. Knight obliges with a brutal knee lift straight into the discus! BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA KNOCKS THE MAD KING OUT!


Mauro Rannallo:”BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA! Knight looks to have a successful debut over the Mad King!”


Knight makes a desperation cover, crawling over Kingston’s body and draping an arm. The Ref makes the count



ONE



TWO



THRE-NO!



KICKOUT! LA KNIGHT CANT BELIEVE IT! He looks mad but he’s determined, he grabs Kingston by the head and lifts him up looking to end it, he’s calling for the Gravy Train! He tries lifting Kingston but Eddie keeps fighting it and a well placed elbow to the back of the head forces Knight to let go, and now the two slug off, forearm after forearm, but it looks like Eddie is getting the better hand of the showdown! Kingston’s on fire! Forearm, forearm, BACKFIST TO THE FUTURE, Knight’s knocked loops, a Saito Suplex from Kingston sends Knight sailing and the cocky star landed on his knees dazed and confused. Kingston’s going for the kill American D, the sliding Forearm Strike….NO! Knight ducks it and rolls out of the ring. Eddie tries to follow but gets nailed with a right hand sending Kingston back into the ring.


ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR


Tom Phillips:”NO COME ON! Not like this, you cowardly egomaniac!”


Knight just makes his way up the ramp while Kingston pulls himself back up in the ring.

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE


Corey Graves:”LA Knight didn’t need this, a win over some third rate nobody like Kingston won’t do anything for a superstar like LA Knight and that’s just a fact of life!”


TEN!



Tony Chimel: YOUR WINNER BY COUNTOUT EDDIE KINGSTON!




Kingston is furious and glares at Knight on the entrance who just gives a cocky grin and flips off both Kingston and the fans!


Mauro Rannallo:”Eddie Kingston gets the win in his debut but it’s not how he would have liked!”




The scene cuts to a familiar site from last week, Fujita's iron fortress. He appears seated before the camera, sipping down a big ol' mug of beer in his signature flat cap. He puts the beverage down, licks his lips, and gets to talkin'.



Fujita: Saw a guy get robbed today. He was walkin' in the wrong part of town, wearin' the wrong things. Fancy suit, fancy watch, fancy hat, not quite as cool as mine but it was still pretty nice. Anyway, one moment he's on his way to a nice, sweet brunch... and the next moment he's stripped all the way down to his underwear with nothin' to tell the time and nobody to call. The robbers were teenagers, tryin' to get their hands on any scraps they get, and they scored a jackpot that day. I turned the corner to witness the end of it, and when they saw me they took off runnin'. The guy looked at me, expecting help or something. Maybe he thought I was going to give him a cell phone, or run after the kids that took his shit... but I just walked away, left him shiverin' and cryin'. 

Fujita takes another big swig of his beer, wiping the beverage off his beautiful, clean-shaven, mean, big ol' iron head.

Fujita: He fuckin' deserved it. He walked through that poor neighborhood with his big ol' suit and big ol' watch and thought he could get away with it?... what a fuckin' douchebag. He should have stayed in his rich, fuckin' lane. That's what people don't realize. You have to contextualize where you are, and who's around you in any environment you go in. Rich people can't expect to go into the poor neighborhoods they munch off and not expect to get their shit kicked in. It's self-righteous and it insults the intelligence of the people who live there. 

Fujita gulps down the rest of his beer, setting the mug down and looking straight into the camera with those cold, iron, eyes.

Fujita: So... CM Punk... you are an actor... and you just strolled into a fighter's neighborhood, flaunting your stuff, insulting my intelligence by thinking you can get away with disrespecting me. You should have just stayed in your lane, buddy. You're not a fighter, you're not a competitor... you said it yourself. You're just part of a big flashy circus, controlled by inauthentic shmucks like you that want to gentrify what I do, fight. Well, pal, I'm not gonna let that happen. I'm gonna rob your ass blind and leave you shiverin' and cryin' in the rain. 

As if on cue, a gong of thunder crashes down outside of Fujita's iron fortress, which gets a nice chuckle out of the wild beast.

Fujita: Heh... hey puppy Joe, would you look at that? Looks like your god is on my side. He doesn't wanna punish you two for your sins anymore, but I sure as hell do. I'll drag both of your asses down to hell and damn you myself.

Fujita cracks a menacing smile as the thunder rages on, and the show heads elsewhere.






The titantron changes to the video of that of the "American Alpha" Chad Gable. Majestic stars and stripes fill the screen in a display fitting of that of a national hero and an Olympian. On the stage, with swagger and confidence that can only be obtained by being one of the very best wrestlers in the world, walks "The Chad" himself. 5 foot 8 of all American Beef in the perfect package struts out and takes in the endless love and admiration of the fans. He knows that the lives of the people in the crowd are changing forever just for being this close to him. He is is humbled.



Tony Chimel:Weighing in at 202 pounds, The American Alpha.. Chad Gable!

Chad has made it to the ring and has ascended the steps just like how he ascended the podium at the Olympics. He wipes his feet on the apron before entering because he respects the mat. Probably more than anything, He is the most respectful. He gives the fans what they want and desire one more time and gives them a pose from the corner. The camera flashes are almost blinding as everyone tries to get the perfect shot of the absolute specimen in the ring, The truth is that every shot of Chad is the perfect shot though. He takes the best pictures. Better than anyone else. He jumps down and is ready. He is ready.

Tony Chimel: And his opponent...



Bright yellow spotlights begin to shine throughout the arena immediately garnering the attention of every fan in the building. The lights begin to twinkle and move throughout the arena before fixating the at top of the ramp and changing to a blue tint. The arena then goes dark as the music continues to blare loudly from the Speakers. Suddenly, fire pyro shoots from the top of the rap ala Kane. The spotlights return, a blue tint once more, shining all throughout the arena before returning to the head of the ramp once more. 



Without further ado, The Architect, Seth Rollins steps out from behind the curtains with his arms extending outwards by his sides. The one and only Paul Heyman, bald head, and all, appears from the backstage area as well following Seth, rubbing his hands and wearing an all too familiar smug look on his face. Seth walks down the ramp, slowly and methodically, his theme music exiting the speakers and entering the atmosphere, making it seem as if a real-life God like figure has just entered everyone’s presence. Seth finally makes his way to the ring, steps up the stairs and enters the ring with his manager behind him. Seth gets to the center of the ring, closes his eyes and begins to take a deep breathe as he ones again raises his arms up on his side, letting the arena bask in his presence.



Tony Chimel: Hailing from Buffalo, Iowa & weighing in at 220 lbs, SETH ROLLLLLLLLLLINNNNSS!!!!!!!



DING DING!

The two cautious opponents circle each other, not wanting to make a mistake coming off two straight losses. For Rollins, his sudden change into "The Architect" resulted in a puzzling loss... and for Gable, he kept his guard too low while dealing with a man the likes of Fujita. None of them seem to want to make the first move, and we're left in a tense square off as the two men inch closer to each other. Gable reaches out with his hand in an attempt to initiate a lockup, and Rollins obliges. They meet in the middle... when suddenly Rollins snaps Gable's hand back!... forcing him to a knee as the crowd rain down the boos.

Tom Phillips: Dastardly move by Rollins, too cowardly to challenge Gable at his own game.

Corey Graves: Uh... exactly! Why would Rollins, a calculated man, play into Gable's strength?!

Tom Phillips: It just reflects the kind of man he is, a dirty cheater... something I'm sure you understand very well Corey.

Corey Graves: Oh yeah, look who's talking, Mr. I can't wait to facefu-

Mauro Ranallo: WOOOAH... back to the action!

Rollins is in firm control of the hold here, wrenching back on Gable's arm... but as soon as Rollins takes a step forward, Gable whirls back around back, wrapping his arms around Rollins and tripping him to the canvas. Gable then rolls Rollins through all sorts of Greco-Roman holds, before twirling around back on top of Rollins, placing a knee on his spine and flexing to the crowd like the showman he is. They hail down applause for the all-american alpha while Rollins screams and wriggles around, enraged by the humiliation. He finally squirms his way out Gable's grasps and back to his feet, absolutely furious. Gable is quick to his feet too, with a big-ol smile on his face directed toward Rollins, like it's all just a nice competition. What he doesn't realize though is that he's just set off a very unstable Seth Rollins.

Corey Graves: Hey is it just me or does Rollins look like a rabid dog right now?

The Messiah is indeed inflamed, and he has his Judas right in his sites. As Gable goes in for another friendly ol' lockup, Rollins snaps. He bursts forward and knees Gable right in the gut. He hunches over and Rollins hits him with a nasty-looking Avada Kedavra kick to Gable's dome. He doesn't let up either, immediately pouncing on Gable with a barrage of disgusting stomps to his cranium. He literally begins to knock the snot out of Gable, who's just being beaten to a plump. Rollins has no plans of mercy and the referee has to separate him from the poor olympian, kneeling down to check up on him. Rollins doesn't care though, Gable had the audacity to humiliate The Messiah. He can burn in hell. Rollins bursts forward and jumps over the ref in a spectacle display of athleticism to deliver a blood-curdling Curb Stomp. To add insult to injury, Rollins hoists Gable up and brings him back down with a picture-perfect Olympic slam. He immediately goes for the cover and screams at the referee to count the pin...

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Tony Chimel: Your winner... THE MESSIAH!... SEEEEEEEETH ROOOOOOOOLLINS!!!



Tom Phillips: ...wow.

Rollins hardly celebrates, looking almost conflicted as he and a wide-eyed Heyman head to the back, leaving Gable to recover in the ring...





As Revolution continues, things head backstage where AJ Styles is.



”The Demi God” AJ Styles: Do I care? The fact that you questioned that is still buzzing around in my head like a wandering hornet. If I wasn’t here every freakin’ week, whether I’m competing or not, you could wonder if I care. If I wasn’t consistently laying out my plans and motives for the future all the time, you could challenge it. But since I do those things and am, in fact, appearing on all that the UWF produces, you can’t so you really shouldn’t have. But since you did, I’m going to make you pay. Like I said, I’m not a liked or appreciated man because of the things I say and do, but that doesn’t matter because whether I get cheered or booed, I still care. I still care about this company being the best it can possibly be, and that’s why, losses and all, I’ve carried it on my back for the last nine months. You, on the other hand, you’ve been one of the factors dragging the company down and while you carry that Intercontinental Championship, the only thing they’ll remember you carrying after tonight is a beating. Because as much as you try to buck me off, I’m going to hang on and add another win to my streak and G1 standings at your expense and move one step closer to holding my rightful gold again.

AJ cracks a cocky smile as Revolution continues.




John Cena theme hit's the arena when the Fans Cheers for him in mostly Salutes through them



He's Emerging by him is John Cena  Saving the Day in training  Eve Torres by helping him win his matches and come up with an team name of The Cenation Leader to make sure nothing happens to The Super man hero of the UWF John runs down the ramp in slides in the ring.



Tony Chimel: From West Newbury, Massachusetts and Denver Colorado respectively, they are John Cena and Eve Torres

They wait for their opponents to come down to the ring...

The scene opens where the arena is shown as "Voices" by Rev Theory hits as Randy Orton comes out and he walks down the entrance ramp.




Tony Chimel: Walking down to the ring, From St Louis Missouri, weighing at 250 lbs...........The Viper Randy Orton!

Orton moves to the corner staring down his opponents on the outside of the ring

My Time to Fly by Mikey Ruckus blares over the P. A. System causing a ubiquitous energetic wave to resound from the fans as Matt Sydal makes his way out to the stage .



Matt clasps his hands together in a pray taunt , tucking his head down too

Tony Chimel: From Saint Louis Missouri , residing in Clearwater , Tampa Florida, weighing 165 lbs . .

Matt Sydal !

Matt Sydal raises his arms up with twin peace sign finger gesture while screaming emphatically .

He points to his forehead as he makes his way down the aisle .



As he reaches the end of the ramp he executed his signature nifty slide under the bottom ring apron rope . He points to his third eye on the forehead again as he nods.


DING! DING! DING!

Orton and Cena walk around the ring, The crowd chants ring throughout the arena. The crowd on their feet as these two men circle each other. The two men lock arms as Cena moves into a headlock Orton pushes John into the ropes who rebounds quickly jumping shoulder first into Orton who is knocked into the canvas, Orton pops up to his feet as Cena rebounds off the other rope Orton stands his ground with his own shoulder as Cena is knocked on his ass...

The two men dust themselves off as the circle the ring once more,  Cena ducks under the arm of Orton, He lifts up Orton up and sending him back first into the canvas....

Orton writhes in pain as the leader of the free cenation pops to his feet, Cena waves his hands in the face of Orton as he runs to the ropes, Orton rolls to his belly as Cena rebounds, Cena jumps over Orton who pops up to his feet as Cena rebounds into an arms of Orton spinning around Cena spiking him back first into the canvas...

Orton twist the arm of Cena as he unloads a boot to the chin of Cena, Eve gets into the ropes she is met with a high knee by Sydal...

Orton twist the arm of Cena even more before pushing it down to the canvas as he sends a boot into the arched arm of Cena...

Orton taunts to the audience,   The crowd boo as Orton flaunts around as Cena rolls on the canvas, Orton lifts Cena to his feet placing his head in the pit as he looks around before going for a DDT, Cena pushes out of it with force as he lifts Orton onto his shoulders, He goes to flip Cena over onto his back as he launches him over, Orton lands on his feet from the attempt as his knee buckles...

Orton turns to Cena limping holding his knee as the two men begin unloading punches into each other, Cena seems to be getting the upper hand as Orton knee buckles, Cena pushes Orton into the ropes as Orton rebounds before losing his footing, Cena runs to the other rope on the rebound as he jumps up before placing the head of Orton under knee as he brings his leg crushing down on the back of the head of Orton...

Cena gets to his feet as he hypes himself up into a frenzy as the crowd are coming unglued, Cena pulls Orton into the center of the ring, He locks the leg and neck of Orton as he begins cinches back as Ortons eyes light up from the pain shooting through his back and legs...

Orton grasp for the ropes as he looks out for any hope, Orton grabs the ref by the shirt as he pushes him away he takes this moment of distraction as he rakes the eyes of Cena, Orton quickly moves into position to grab the legs as he ties him up...

Randy gets to his feet as Cena covers his eyes as Orton falls into his corner for a breath of fresh air, Sydal tags himself in as he picks up Cena before launching him head first into the turnbuckle...

Sydal looks at Cena on the canvas in position as he endeavours his way up the turn buckle. Sydal points to his third eye as he takes the leap of faith, Eve Torres rushes in pushing Sydal off course mid air, Sydal adjust his course too late as he lands head first on the rope sending him over to the outside of the ring...

Cena takes a moment to get to his feet as he rolls out after Sydal, He gets him back in the ring, Sydal gets to his feet stumbling as Cena follows back into the ring, Sydal meets Cena with a high knee to the neck as he stumbles to the ropes tagging back in Orton who smells fresh blood of Cena who was sent into the ropes...

Orton throws the legs of Cena over the middle rope pulling him back with his head in his pit, Orton falls back spiking the head of Cena hard into the canvas, Orton pushes himself up as he begins to bang on the canvas, He eyes look back as he is on the ground he sees a flying Eve Torres come down from the top of the turnbuckle for a splash of sorts, Orton with the speed of Sonic gets to his feet and hits a devastating RKO on Torres...

Cena gets to his feet with his second wind, Cena takes advantage of Orton as he lifts him on his shoulders moving to the center of the ring, John launches Randy off his shoulder in his signature style, Orton mid air wraps his bicep around the head of Cena bringing him crashing hard into the canvas, Orton slithers over Cena for the cover...

One...

Two...

Three...

DING! DING! DING!


Tony Chimel: Here are your winners by pinfall, Matt Sydal and Randy Orton.!

Orton ignores every distraction as he moves to the corner doing his signature pose, Sydal gets into the ring holding his neck as he points to his third eye as Orton and him meet middle of the ring.
As Orton and Sydal hold their arms up in victory, the lights in the arena begin to flicker somewhat. They look around confused for a moment, as the lights dim down and the titantron lights up with Wyatt holding the UWF Championship laughing loudly as he pumps his fist seemingly celebrating.



Bray Wyatt: Wooooo We did it! We Did it! Lo hicimos! Hahahaha I'm so proud of you two, Randall and Matthew have been on odd ends and falling short for so long. But now, look at you two! You've got a new bestest friend, you've come out on top and even came out with the victory. I mean It's all looking up for you two, and I am Oh so happy for you both. I mean in some cases you might think I'd try and take one of you out, or separate you in some manner to mess with the new situation you've got. But I'm now learning the importance of friendship now that I've taken a liking to Seth coming over. So I think, it's only fair that you both face what you've set in motion...together...as friends.

Wyatt is still smiling as he puts one hand over the other in front of him, but his smile seems to drift down a bit as he stares down through the titantron at the two men who laid him out last week.

Speaking of friends, besides all my little Fireflies and friends I've made along the way...I do have a very special friend. And since you two cemented your friendship with me last week, in such a Wonderful manner....Then I should do the neighborly thing and introduce you both to my best friend. You showed me yours, so I'll show

The lights are dimmed, but with a loud power surge sound the spotlights turn off leaving only the light of the tiantron illuminating the arena.

You.

The titantron glitches out as electrical sounds hum over the speakers.

M̸i̵n̸e̸.

The remaining dimmed lights shut off completely, leaving only darkness. The crowd cheers loudly when the lights totally shut off, awaiting what's to come. Suddenly a Red hue covers the arena, as a loud haunting high pitched screech plays over the speakers. Sydal is ready to fight while Orton backed up into the corner to find his bearings seemingly out of nowhere The Fiend appears behind him.



Mauro Ranallo: It's The Fiend!

Corey Graves: Don't Turn around Randy, you're not gonna like the view!

Orton pauses and you can see the realization on his face, he slowly turns his head and when he sees him...The Fiend roars out as you can see his tongue stick out from between his monstrous teeth. Sydal turns hearing the roar and rushes over and him and Orton both start to swing rights and lefts at the Fiend, they hit overhand shots at him relentlessly until they start to pull at him through the ropes to get him in the ring.

Tom Phillips: They are going right at him with no fear, Bray Wyatt may have bit off more than he can chew

As both men rain down clubbing blows to the back, Suddenly the Fiend simply stands up straight. Pushing their arms away causing them both to back away slightly, Sydal is quickly the first to go at him again but is caught by the throat immediately. The Fiend tilts his head for a moment before he tosses Sydal to one side throwing him nonchalantly to one side through the ropes, in favor of catching a returning Orton with the Mandible Claw.

Corey Graves: Need I remind you Tom, this is The Fiend. And I don't think we've begun to see the limits of what he can chew.

Orton is struggling to get out of The Fiends grasp, hitting his arm continuously to loosen the grip but nothing seems to be working. But just as Orton drops down to one knee, Sydal has jumped up on the top rope and springboarded across the air with a dropkick to The Fiends shoulder. The Fiend is sent backwards but doesn't fall, but the sudden attack does cause him to let go of Randy who grabs at his neck and starts to cough. Sydal scrambles up to his feet and hits a leaping knee right to the Fiends Face, causing his head to cock back from the impact. But as Sydal lands back on his feet, The Fiend simply moves his head back down seemingly not affected at all and suddenly jolts forward hooking Sydal under his arm for Sister Abigail.

Tom Phillips: Sydal might regret coming back at The Fiend.

Before The Fiend can go for it, Randy Orton leaps in and hooks his head for the RKO. Randy is in mid air when the lights suddenly go out, you can hear the thud of a body hitting the mat but the only thing to see are the random flashes of lights from camera. After a moment, the lights come back to normal and Randy is sitting on the mat holding his back from hitting the mat as Sydal is sitting opposite him looking around not sure of what just happened as the Fiend is nowhere to be found.

Tom Phillips: Where'd he go.

Mauro Ranallo: Bray Wyatt serving a preview to Randy and Matt of what's to come, I wonder if they are both ready for more.

Corey Graves: Never mind that Mauro, the story here is Randy Orton and Matt Sydal survived an encounter with the Fiend. We can't really say that much for many others.

As Orton and Sydal turn to face one another and get up, Bray Wyatts laugh starts to bellow over the speakers echoing throughout the arena.




The titantron cuts from the UWF Revolution graphic to a live feed from backstage. CM Punk pops up on the big screen. There's no Renee Young, no Samoa Joe, no fancy lighting, nothing. Just him, in his streets clothes, waiting around somewhere in arena halls ahead of his second match of the tournament.



Punk: Hey. Punk here.

Big boos from the crowd. They aren't interested. Wherever he is in the building, he can hear them, and the Second City Saint waits for the roars to die down before continuing.

Yep. Right. Okay. Case in point right there - I never want it to be said that I don't listen. I'm always listening. Always interested. And I know... I know because I've heard it... yeah, I know that some of you, hell, lets say a lot of you thing I'm just fooling around out here. You think The Renaissance is a joke and that the Summer of Punk is just some game. Like I'm running a big circus for my own ego. "Punk only came back cause he was bored and now he's just trolling everyone."

I can see how you might get that impression. The promos, the songs, the could-give-a-shit vibe about everything. But don't mistake any of that for cynicism, and even if you write me off as that, don't make the mistake of equating that with a lack of effort. I'm not lazy. I'm not doing anything ironically. I don't mind holding up a mirror to this company's facade, ya know, just to let the Emperor see his new clothes. You'll never catch me in that reflection, though.

There's a simmering animosity just below his surface. An indignation just barely masked by his care-free tone.

All that to say that I'm here for a purpose, and I've stood by that purpose since day one. I came to prove I'm the Best in the World. There's nothing to sidetrack me anymore. No distractions. No burdens. This tournament is a vehicle for me to do me. Last week I destroyed Seth Rollins. One knee. One pinfall. Easy. Tonight I'm squaring off against the roughest, toughest, meanest, nastiest son of a bitch to ever come across the Pacific.

I will do whatever it takes to beat him. I'm not interested in fighting fair right now. There's no honour here. If the last six months has shown anything, its that nice guys finish last. Being the asshole isn't how I wanted to prove my point but indecency is the only viable option. Everything up until I peel that UWF Championship off of Bray Wyatt's dead body is fair game - it's all "ends justify the means" stuff. And dammit if that's not gonna be good TV for you guys. I'm gonna tear apart this roster, look good doing it and then cap it off with the most important changing of the guard in company history. That... that's the Summer of Punk. The Summer of "At any and all costs."

Whatever I have to do to become undeniable...

He shrugs non-chalantly.

I don't mind doing it. That's why I'll always be better. Because I don't mind.

Punk turns and walks out of the frame. The screen fades to black and Revolution continues elsewhere.





Three Six's "Hit A Muthafucka" explodes into the arena and you know somebody is about to get fucked up. By who?... Kazuyuki Fujita of course. As the song's hostile hook rages on, a wide silhouette appears. Even the slightest shadow of Fujita commands respect. The crowd waits in anticipation before the silhouette forms into a fully fledged, absolute tank of a human being. Kazuyuki Fujita... the last successor of Inokiism... the wild beast... the ironhead... has arrived. 



Tony Chimel: Making his way to the ring... hailing from Chiba, Japan... the last successor of Inokiism... the wild beast... THE IRONHEAD!... FUJITAAAAAAA KAZUUUUUYUKIIIIII!!!!

Fujita menacingly makes his way down the ramp, carrying around an aura like no other. He's a polarizing figure in the world of wrestling. Some applaud him as an innovator, helping to bring MMA to wrestling and pioneering his own style. Others call him a disgrace, insisting that he set wrestling back with his brooding MMA style. Fujita though?... he doesn't give a damn what anybody thinks about him. He's here to wreck shop and he's unapologetic about it. He locks his cold stare on the ring as he climbs up the cold, steel steps. He walks into the ring, claiming it. Once Kazuyuki Fujita has stepped foot in the ring, it's his now, free to do whatever he wants in it, and nobody is gonna stop him.

He paces around the ring for a few moments, almost like a tiger. Fujita is a predator, and now he just has to wait for his prey to arrive. He calmly sleeks back into his corner, ready for the match to begin. It's the calm before the storm. 






THE SUMMER OF PUNK

The strummed chords of "Dog Days Are Over" hum through the PA while the titantron fires to life with some seasons greetings. The vanguard of The Renaissance walks out on the ramp, nodding his head in tempo with the music. CM Punk scans the arena, taking in a crowd that's decidedly unhappy to see him. He flashes a cocksure smile in response before turning his back on them. With hands spread, he lets his merchandise do the talking.



Chimel: Making his way to the ring... being accompanied by Samoa Joe... from Chicago, Illinois... weighing in at 218 pounds...the UWF Intercontinental Champion... CM PUNK!

The brooding Samoan Submission Machine comes trailing behind Punk as he strolls down the ramp. The Second City Saint sings along with his entrance music, a certain devil-may-care ease about his demeanour. No doubt that calm comfort comes from having some muscle in his corner. Punk hits the ring just as the chorus comes in while Joe finds a spot by the apron, ready to intervene should the occasion call for it.





DING DING DING


Punk casually walks to the center of the ring and tells Fujita that he doesn't belong here. Fujita gives him not satisfaction in getting angry, instead he just looks straight ahead as if no one was even across the ring from him. Punk yells that he's talking to him but Fujita walks right up to him and just straight up slaps the taste out of his mouth! Punk turns away and leans over, his balance getting thrown from the impact of the slap. Fujita grabs him at the waist and throws him up for a High Angle German Suplex! Punk lands hard on the back of his neck and he rolls out of the ring right away to get a quick breather. Fujita also exits the ring to follow him but Joe ends up getting between the two.


Mauro Ranallo: Samoa Joe didn't take too kindly to Fujita's words leading up to this match.

Corey Graves: If there's one man I wouldn't want to piss off, it's Samoa Joe. But if there's one man who isn't afraid of Joe, it's Fujita.


Joe stands straight an tall, making himself bigger but Fujita knees him right in the gut and throws Joe right into the announce table! Fujita turns around only for Punk to blindside him with a forearm to the face. Fujita however doesn't look affected by it and he just stares down Punk. The sly smile that once came across his face now turns to worry as he slowly backs away. Fujita charges at him and Punk manages to side step him and Fujita goes flying over the barricade! He quickly gets back to his feet and shoves fans away who are in his way. He's coming over the barricade when Punk runs over and gives him a Running High Knee! He then takes his head and jumps off the barricade to give him an elevated Bulldog onto the floor! Punk picks up Fujita right away and throws him back into the ring to make the pin.



1 . . .



A kickout from Fujita! Punk gets up and starts laying in some boots on the legend. Fujita just eats them and continues to get back to a vertical base. Punk runs to the ropes to get some momentum but he's cut in half on the rebound by a Spear from Fujita! Punk hols his ribs in pain almost looks to be counting them to make sure they're all still there. Fujita grabs his head and pulls him back up. He places Punk onto his shoulders, setting him up for the DVD but Punk grabs at his face and rakes his eyes, dropping behind him. Fujita is temporarily blinded and turns away but Punk takes him out from behind with a Chop Block! Fujita falls back and Punk grabs his leg and starts kicking at his hamstring. Fujita kicks him away and tries to stand back up right away but collapses to one knee. Punk runs and nails him with the Shining Wizard! He goes for the pin.



1 . . .



2 . . .



Fujita kicks out! Punk brings him back up right away and hoists him up onto his shoulders. Fujita knows what's coming next and opts to just elbow Punk in the face over and over until he's dropped. He stumbles back from the injured knee. Punk runs at him but Fujita lays him out with a Lariat! Punk turns over and holds his neck. Fujita sits on his back and starts throwing down elbow strikes to the back of the head. Punk is trying to cover up but Fujita is getting anything he wants. Joe pops up on the apron trying to distract Fujita but it's not working, Fujita keeping his focus on Punk. He then reaches down and picks up Punk, pulling him up into a Rear Naked Choke! He looks right at Joe while doing this but Joe can't do anything. Punk however reaches up and jabs his thumbs into Fujita's eyes!



Tom Phillips: What a cheap move from Punk.

Mauro Ranallo: Punk is doing everything he can to win the G1 for a second time.

Corey Graves: If you're not willing to fight dirty, you should give up any hope of winning the G1 Climax.


Fujita walks to the ropes and tries to get his vision back. You can see some blood trickle out of his eyes while Punk stumbles over to the opposite side of the ring. He's stumbling around like he's dazed and the ref checks on him. Joe meanwhile goes to where Fujita is and gets on the apron, giving him a Running Forearm! Fujita turns back towards the ring and falls to a knee. Punk comes over and grabs both arms in a double underhook. Looks like's he's going to welcome him to Chicago but Fujita instead lifts him up, transitioning him onto his shoulders before delivering the Death Valley Driver! He makes the pin.



1 . . .



2 . . .



Punk kicks out!


Mauro Ranallo: Fujita may not be able to see but as long as he has a hold of Punk, he doesn't need vision.


Fujita turns Punk over and grabs his waist. He then starts to give him knees right to the head, shoulders and neck. Punk can't do anything and looks like he might be out of it but suddenly he's pulled out of the ring by Joe! The ref yells at Joe and throws him out of the arena! Joe yells but starts to head to the back. Fujita tries to squint to see where Punk is but he can't really see. Punk slithers into the ring and Joe is still making a commotion. The ref doesn't see Punk walk over to Fujita and kick him right in the balls! Punk then catches him with an inside cradle! Joe yells at the ref to turn around and he glances behind him to see the pin, dropping down to count it.



1 . . .



2 . . .



3 . . .



Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, CM Punk!




Tom Phillips: Punk just stole a win here tonight.

Mauro Ranallo: He may have won the match but I think he made an enemy of Fujita.

Corey Graves: No one ever made it to the top by playing nice but you're right about one thing. He's going to be pissed. I'd hate to be Seth Rollins next week.


Punk high tails it out of the ring and heads up the ramp with Joe. Fujita sits on the mat holding his package and squinting with a scowl on his face as the show moves on.




We suddenly cut backstage where we see Warhorse sitting around with his championship in his lap. He still looks in awe of it. He then suddenly stands up.



WARHORSE: IT’S WARHORSE, HERE TODAY THINKING ABOUT HOW THIS WORLD IS AN OYSTER THAT THE WARHORSE IS ABOUT TO GODDAMN GOBBLE. LAST WEEK THE HIGHER UPS DOUBTED THAT THE WARHORSE COULD SNAP THE CON-STREAK LIKE A KIT-KAT. THEY DOUBTED THE MERE IDEA. SHIT SUCKS AND WE ALL DIE I GUESS, BECAUSE IT’S NO MORE.

REDUCED TO ATOMS, AS A SHITTY ASS PURPLE DUDE SAID ONCE. HELL. I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE HELL I’D DO WITH A SECOND BELT. MAYBE I’D WEAR A SECOND PAIR OF PANTS AND USE IT TO SECURE A CAPE. HELL, BABY, IF IT’S CALLING THE NAME OF THE WARHORSE, MOANING AND WAILING DON’T YOU WORRY, I’LL BE THERE BUBBA.

I MEAN AFTER ALL THE MAN WHO HOLDS IT CLINGS ONTO IT LIKE SAND AND IT SLIPS THROUGH HIS FINGERS WITHOUT HIM EVEN NOTICING. BEFORE HE’LL KNOW IT, IT’LL BE IN THE HANDS OF A DIFFERENT MAN. BE THAT ME, I COULDN’T CARE. I’VE GOT THIS PRIZE, THIS MOMENTO. I’M A CHAMPION, BECOMING A DOUBLE CHAMPION DOESN’T CHANGE WHO THE WARHORSE IS, BUT THE WARHORSE WILL WELCOME IT WITH OPEN ARMS AND EYES.

The Warhorse backs up for a bit and lowers his belt onto his shoulder.

OTHERWISE WHAT AM I? A MAN IN FACEPAINT SCREAMING AT YOU? NO. I HAVE TO FIGHT TO BE THE MAN I AM, BECAUSE THAT’S WHO I AM. I GO TO WAR EVERY NIGHT, I FIGHT. TONIGHT I FACE A MAN WHO’S FORSAKEN ME SO HEAVILY, SO STRONGLY. I GUESS WE’LL ONLY HAVE TO SEE WHAT TYPA MAN HE HAS BEHIND THAT. I’LL GIVE THE TANK OF STEAM TO STEAMROLL HIM OVER AND GET THE WARHORSE HIS SECOND DUB-DUB-DUB-YA AND WE’LL ALL ROLL ON HOME.

SEE YOU OUT THERE, FOLKS.

We cut elsewhere with fan applause.




As Revolution continues, things head backstage where The Will are.

”The One Man Band” Heath Slater: What do you mean you haven’t seen or heard from her?

”The War Machine” Rhino: Gore.

”The One Man Band” Heath Slater: Did you check the trash? That’s where she popped up before.

”The War Machine” Rhino: Gore.

”The One Man Band” Heath Slater: Cheer up, buddy. We’ll find her! Until then, there’s plenty to be happy about, like AJ’s winning streak. He’s beaten Goldberg, Abyss, and Drew Galloway lately and tonight, he’s gonna beat WARHORSE. We’re almost back in the promised land: challenging for the UWF Championship.

”The War Machine” Rhino: Gore.

”The One Man Band” Heath Slater: I don’t think we’ll get turned into puppets again. You can’t allow thoughts like that to even enter your head. Now come on, it’s main event time, baby!

Heath walks offscreen as Rhino looks at the trash can in the room before leaving the room himself.





Chimel: The following contest is set for one-fall and is a second round match in the G1 Climax!

Suddenly the lights go out and the titantron screen begins to play a familiar clip.



After Goku says, “even further beyond, the screen goes black and all is silent for a moment until a familiar voice breaks the silence.

I HAVE ASCENDED!

The crowd boos but they’re drowned out by pyro shooting from the stage. At the end of it, the screen says two words, Demi God, as a new theme begins to play.



The song is, “Element of Surprise” by Lloyd Banks as AJ walks out to the instrumental, his hood covering his head as he’s hunched over. He straightens up quickly, throwing the hood back and his arms out to the side as the vocals begin.



Chimel: From Gainesville, Georgia. Weighing in at two hundred and eighteen pounds. He is the, “Demi God”, A...J....Styles!

AJ makes his way down the ramp, eyes focused on the ring, the look on his face one of seriousness as he enters the ring and gets ready for the match ahead.




The bewildering sounds of "Raining Blood" blast through the PA, with the wailing distortion echoing through our ears. The spooky sounds continue to flow, until we peak up and then we hit the strong, driving riff coming through the speakers, as the current UWF Intercontinental Champion, Warhorse pumps through the curtain, standing off with menacing head bangs and championship held in hand with a strong grip. The Warhorse sympathisers in the crowd bang their heads with ultra enthusiasm through the whole of the first two verses, as well as the MAJORITY Slayer fans, throw 'em up brother.



Chimel: Weighing in tonight at 4000 lbs of Raw Heavy Metal, from St Louis, Missouiri, USA, the UWF Intercontinental Champion, Warhorse!

The Warhorse finishes up headbanging up at the top of the ramp, and then starts marching down to the ramp with all of the intensity in his feet in the world. Revvin' those suckers up for an ass ruling of massive proportions. He slides up onto the apron, swinging his championship belt up and stands, climbing right through the ropes, and standing in the middle of the ring as we hit the chorus:

RAINING BLOOD,
FROM A LACERATED SKY,
BLEEDING IT'S HORROR,
CREATING MY STRUCTURE,
NOW I SHALL REIGN IN BLOOD.

The Warhorse headbangs like crazy as we get a bewildering Kerry King guitar solo, a true assault to the senses. He twirls from the rapid headbanging over towards the corner and as the song finishes the Warhorse stands strong waits for this one to get underway, passing off his treasured championship belt, and thinks about ruling some goddamn ass, baby, brother, dude, boy.

Tony Chimel exits the ring while the Referee ensures both men are ready to compete before calling for the bell!




DING DING


Cocky son of a gun that he is, AJ takes one look over at his opponent and brushes him off with laugh. Maybe that's just laughing him off. Maybe. Styles then makes like he's gonna circle around a bit, ya know, find his footing, looking for an opening, really just settle into this contest. Trouble is, WARHORSE wasn't thrilled about that condescending chuckle plus he wasn't a big fan of the Demi-God to begin with so he just bumrushes buddy and double-legs him straight down into the canvas.

The fans pop big for the explosive start to the bout while WARHORSE powers his way into a full fount. Styles turtles up, arms covering his head to weather the torrential storm of the IC Champ's ground-and-pound. The agro Missourian blasts his foe with elbow strikes, sitting up to drop some fists when the elbows get old. He manages to get at least a dozen vicious strikes before Styles manages to worm his way close enough to the ropes to grab hold of the lowest.

With that, the Referee is duty-bound to intervene. The third man demands WARHORSE get on up off the Phenomenal One but the man's been possessed by some serious blood lust.


Ranallo: WARHORSE is just going to town AJ Styles!

Phillips: POUND THAT PANSY ASS! YOU POUND IT GOOD!

Graves: This neanderthal is going to get himself disqualified!


With no other recourse, the Official starts a five count. WARHORSE lets him get to four before rolling off of Styles. The Hesher shows no signs of remorse for his violent assault. He throws some horns up to the crowd and gets some big ol' cheers back for it. Styles cusses out the Ref when he checks on him, telling him to keep WARHORSE under control. Stripes can't help but agree with the complaint and goes over to reprimand the Intercontinental Champ, telling me that he won't give him any more warnings or tolerate that kind of rough housing.

WARHORSE is distracted by the nerdy little whistle-blower getting all up in his grill and that gives AJ an opening to come after him. Absent the typical grace or poise that comes with his offense, Styles torpedos himself forward, sorta spearing, sorta just tackling his opponent. His shoulder connects with the midsection and he drives WARHORSE back first into a turnbuckle. The Phenomenal one then wraps his hands around the middle ropes on either side to give himself some leverage to ram that shoulder in twice more.

The Champ coughs all the air out of his lungs after that last hit. Styles backs off, leaving WARHORSE draped up against the ropes. He turns his back on him and then flips feet-over-head, looking to punctuate the barrage with a Pele Kick. Seeing the foot coming at the last second, the Metalhead swats the boot away so that it just misses his head. WARHORSE then scoops AJ up off the mat, grabbing him around his waist and then turning so that his Half-and-Half suplex sends the Rumble Winner crashing down into the middle of the ring.


Phillips: HALF-AND-FRIGGIN-HALF SUPLEX BROTHER!

Ranallo: Looks like he'll go for the cover!


It's true! With his opponent folded up like a lawn chair, WARHORSE sprawls on him to put this one away...



1...



2...



No! AJ pops out just after two! There's a collective groan from the crowd but some tenacious headbanging from WARHORSE gets their energy sparked up again. There's no quit in the Champ.

Styles shakes his head, doing what he can to etch-a-sketch away the stars he's seeing. WARHORSE stands and grabs him by the l'oreal hair, pulling him up as well. Whatever the Hesher has planned, it never comes to fruition. AJ tags him in the gut with a left hook, knocking the wind out of him all over again. The Demi-God then connects with a series of strikes, capping it off with a spinning back-fist that wobbles his opponent.

Having loosened him up, Styles finds little resistance in taking an arm to whip the other man across the ring. WARHORSE careens across the canvas, hitting the ropes only to find a dropkick waiting for him on the way back. His boots clip his opponent's chin and knock the guy to the ground. AJ lands just beside him then rolls over to try for a cover of his own...



1...



WARHORSE kicks out at one! Styles scowls at the Referee, arguing the count. This brief distraction proves to be a big mistake when the IC Champ grabs him from behind to steal a pin with a sudden roll-up...



1...



2...



Styles powers out in time to avoid a a humiliating defeat. He scrambles to his feet but WARHORSE beats him to the punch. The Missourian catches AJ with a running knee to the guts. With the Demi-God doubled over, the Champ hooks the head, grabs some tights and executes a Snap suplex! He sends Styles overhead and right into the mat, giving him some serious whiplash. Rather than try for a cover right away, WARHORSE pulls his for up, socks him in the jaw for good measure and then levels him with a discuss lariat!


Ranallo: Ooof! Big lariat from WARHORSE there!

Graves: He's been in the driver's seat since he started this match out fighting dirty. I don't understand why the fans cheer this guy.

Phillips: BECAUSE HEAVY METAL, YA POSER!


WARHORSE leaves him lying while setting his eyes on the corner post. His glance towards to top sends the sold-out crowd into a frenzy. They're ready to see their boy fly. Throwing up some horns as a salute to his faithful fans, the Champ gets up and heads for the turnbuckle. He pulls himself on rung at a time before perching at the apex. A couple of head bangs rev that adrenaline engine in his soul, and with that, the WARHORSE soars! Buddy comes off the top with bad intentions. His boots are aimed for AJ's chest. He's gonna RULE SOME ASS!


Phillips: ASS RUUUUUUUUUULAH!

Ranallo: This is it!


Except oh snap! AJ rolls out of the way just in time!

Those boots hit nothing but canvas. WARHORSE's knee kinda buckles from the unexpected impact. There's no hiding the grimace on his face and the savvy veteran he's competing against notices it immediately. Before WARHORSE can even stretch it out or take another step, Styles shoots in with a chop-block to the back of the leg. A panic falls over the audience as the Champ buckles, letting out an involuntary cry as the Demi-God levels him with targeted assault.

The Metalhead rolls around on the mat, clutching his bum knee. AJ Styles is like a vulture, though, picking at him without mercy. He grabs the bad leg while wrapping the other one around his own limbs. The Phenomenal One then sits down and leans back, applying pressure with a Figure Four Leglock! He's not some chump who bends the hurt leg - he knows the straight one is the one that hurts. Everyone who does it wrong is dumb and should stop. AJ Styles is a master of his craft.


Ranallo: There was a time earlier on in his career when AJ Styles was mentored by the Nature Boy. While The Demi-God's offense is some of the most original and innovative in the modern era of wrestling, he isn't afraid to use an old classic when it suites him.

Graves: That's just one of the reasons he's an all-time great. How appropriate, too. We all know WARHORSE idolizes the Hogans and the Savages, so who better for Styles to channel than Ric Flair?


WARHORSE tries to pry his leg free but it's stuck tight in the submission hold. He takes a swing at Styles, but the Phenomenal One simply leans back out of harms way. The ropes are too far away and the pain is only getting worse. The Champ is running out of time and options.

The fans cheer him on, chanting his name and encouraging him to break free. WARHORSE looks eyes, eyes stinging with the sweat furiously pouring down his brow as the agony increases. Spotting the G1 graphic up on the big screen, he finds that extra, vital bit of motivation he needs to keep him in this thing. With an inhuman burst of energy, he manages to swing his hips and roll over, effectively reversing the pressure!


Phillips: CLASSIC REVERSAL OF THE PRESSURE, NATCH! WORKS EVERY SINGLE DAMN TIME!

Graves: Would you relax? You just spit in my drink.

Phillips: DRINK THE SPIT, YA WUSS!


Styles is a lot closer to the ropes than WARHORSE was, so he doesn't have much trouble reaching out to grab one to break things up. Unlike earlier, WARHORSE doesn't make the most of the five count. He releases right away, happy to have his leg untangled so he can nurse it a bit. There's no visible damage on the outside, but under the skin there could be mangled tendons or torn muscles.

The Hesher rolls towards the ropes and uses them to help himself up. AJ takes a second to adjust his kick pad on the leg he just had torqued up a bit before standing himself. He approaches WARHORSE, who swats at him with an errant haymaker. Styles avoids the shot then grabs the arm, whipping his opponent across the ring. The momentum keeps WARHORSE moving. He hits the ropes and comes back with his hands up, instinctively anticipating another dropkick.

Sure enough, Styles goes back to that well, but instead of aiming for the head this time, the Demi-God goes low and takes out the hurt leg with a dropkick to the knee! The force ravages WARHORSE, sending him sommersaulting over before he crashes down. AJ darts around him to grab at his leg. Though the Champ manages to back him off a bit with some desperate kicks, the Georgian is able to snatch a hold of his heel, and from there, starts working the Ankle Lock!


Ranallo: Another blast from the past for Styles!

Graves: That Ankle Lock is in deep, too. WARHORSE might just want to tap out to save his leg.

Ranallo: Rey Mysterio's G1 Climax hopes were derailed by his leg injury in 2016 - you're right, Corey. It might be wiser for WARHORSE to throw in the towel and live to fight another day. With Conway having won earlier tonight, WARHORSE could still come back, earn the victory next week and still top the block assuming The Conman can put away the Demi-God.

Graves: That's a lot of if's, and's or but's, though. Whoever wins this match is going to be in a great position as the only person in this bracket with two victories heading into week three. Right now, it's looking like that man will be the Demi-God.

Phillips: SHUT UP WITH THE FACTS AND NUMBERS, GEEKS!


Styles twists the ankle in the wrongest direction. Granted, it's not the knee, but all them parts are so connected that what hurts one, hurts all. Like James Cameron's Avatar.

WARHORSE grits his teeth and clenches his fists. Styles is shouting at him to tap out but that's just riling the Metalhead up. He's not about to give in. Not to the man with that haircut. Inch by inch, he scrapes and claws, pulling himself across the canvas at a snail's pace. The Phenomenal One yanks harder, threatening to rip that dang foot clean off. The agony simply fuels the Champ, giving him reason to crawl faster. An attempt to pull his opponent back fails, so Styles drops and grapevines, adding deadweight for WARHORSE to drag towards the sanctuary of the ropes.

The energy starts to fade from the arena as all hope seems lost. WARHOSE won't quit, though! Not like this! He pushes on, elbows tucked in front of him army-crawl style as he forces the pain out of his mind. Styles is screaming at him to give up now. The Official is right there, double checking over and over again, just waiting for that tap. WARHORSE's ankle it facing the wrong direction. It's horrible. No mortal man could endure such a thing.


Graves: It's over.

Ranallo: That bone is about to snap!


WARHORSE puts his hand up, fingers trembling...


Phillips: YA CAN DOOOOOOOO IT!


He reaches out and grabs the rope! The fans explode! He made it! WARHORSE made it! The Ref turns his attention from one wrestler to the other, quickly starting a five count to ensure Styles lets him loose. AJ complies, but gives that ankle one last tug before releasing.

The Demi-God then stands up and stretches his arms out, fine with taking a moment to hog the spotlight and let the fans bask in his glory. All those positive vibes that were going WARHORSE's way circle in around the black hole that is AJ Styles as the fans boo the ever loving heck out of him. He smiles, happy to rub it in. The Phenomenal One then struts over to the ropes, stepping through to find a familiar home on the apron. He melodramatically removes his elbow pad, tossing it over his shoulder while lining up his foe in his sights.


Ranallo: AJ could have gone back on the attack but is instead deciding to end this in the most him way possible.

Graves: Well they don't call him "Styles" for nothing. You can't fault a man of his talent for show boating!


WARHORSE slowly but surely gets up with no shortage of help from the ropes. He puts some weight on his leg, testing it out, and it's all he can do to keep from buckling over again. The Official checks him again, wondering is he really wants to keep going. The Champ pushes him away, offended that he would he ask.

With the third man distanced from his target, Styles launches himself. He hops on to the top rope and springs into the air, looking for the Phenomenal Forearm on a stationary target. WARHORSE can't move out of the way, so he stands tall and just whips his head forward as hard as he can. AJ comes down and finds his aerial assault stymied by his opponent's forehead crashing into his own skull!


Phillips: WARHORSE HEAD BANG'D STYLES TO DEATH!

Ranallo: Unbelievable!


The headbutt knocks Styles out of the air and out of the realm of consciousness! The Demi-God lands flat on his back while WARHORSE collapses on him to make the cover...



Graves: No! Not like this!



1...



Ranallo: MAMA MIA!



2...



Phillips: WARHORSE FOREVVVVVVVVER!



No! Styles gets a shoulder up just in time! WARHORSE can't believe it! He holds up two fingers at the Ref in the shape of the horns. The third man confirms the kick out. Styles doesn't even look like he's awake yet - as though some instinctive muscle spasm is all that kept him in the fight.

WARHORSE defiantly points a finger towards the top rope, ignoring all good sense and pain to once again call for his finisher. The ASS RULER! Jumping out of their seats, the fans cheer him on and clamor for the big finale. The Champ finds the strength to stand on his own power. He rises and limps towards the nearest corner, knowing one good stomp will be enough to seal the deal.


Ranallo: Styles is down for the count!

Phillips: OPEN WIDE FOR THE ASS RULER, ASS HOLE!


The Intercontinental Champ goes towards the buckle but suddenly finds himself dragged back! Styles seizes his leg and yanks him down to the canvas! Before anyone knows what's what, the hardly conscious Phenomenal One hooks himself a leg, pulling it around his own with both hands wrapped on the shin. WARHORSE cries out in anguish as he's stuck in a third brutal submission attempt! He does what he can to fight and wiggle free but he's winded and wounded and Styles is pulling like a man possessed.

They're in the middle of the ring, miles away from the ropes. WARHORSE puts up his hand, palm open as though he's about to tap but then closes his fist, refusing to relent again. Moment by moment, as the seconds tick by, that raised fist gets lower and lower until it eventually drops limp to the mat. Styles continues to squeeze on the damaged leg until the Referee calls it off...



DING DING



YOUR WINNER...
AJ STYLES!


AJ releases the hold out of sheer exhaustion and drops on to his back, panting like he just ran a marathon. The Official helps him to raise his hand, his music blaring through the PA. His victory celebration is marred some concussion-like symptoms, no doubt from that massive head butt. The Demi-God stumbles away from the Ref and rolls through the ropes. The boys from the Will hustle out to collect their fearless leader and help him to the back.

WARHORSE is quick to regain consciousness. He looks up at the Official, at first unsure why he's hearing AJ's music. He didn't tap. He wasn't pinned. The Ref explains that he passed out, which, of course, just pisses off the Metalhead.


Ranallo: WARHORSE looking none-too happy about having the match called off, but I can't argue with the decision. He was in no position to continue and you have to wonder how that injury will play into his match next week.

Graves: If WARHORSE can beat Galloway next week and Conway can topple Styles, that will put the block in a three-way tie with each man having a victory over one of the others. There's still some hope for him, but given the damage to that leg and how hungry Drew Galloway is going to be to prove himself against the Champ, I don't like his odds. There could be no stopping AJ Styles now.

Phillips: WHAT A BUNCHA BULLSHIT!


WARHORSE sits up and glares daggers at Styles and The Will as they back up the ramp as the show comes to a close.



END OF SHOW



Credits

Knight vs Kingston - Danny/Yolo
Cena & Eve vs Sydal/Orton - Jye
Conway vs Galloway - Dresden
Rollins vs Gable - Roach
WARHORSE vs Styles - Fauche
Punk vs Fujita - Danny

[Dres]

Another good show as the G1 continues to be quite the showcase. It was fun to mix it up with George again, WARHORSE makes for an intriguing opponent. Thanks Fauche for the great match. Outside of the tournament, the stuff with BRey/The Fiend and Orton/Sydal was top notch stuff and Kingston/Knight was the thread of the week. Looking forward to more of everything!

[Evolution J]

Amazing show as always. I enjoyed it. It was unexpected. My storyline with Bray Wyatt is going strong, I was shocked at the one person no showing the G1. But like I have said before, I enjoy AJ Styles/Warhorse match. Yes, I was impressed by the Eddie Kingston/LA Knight thread. Overall, the 61 card is getting interesting and better than before as the show moves on. Props to Jye for writing my match. It was too sweet and well written. But I have to give props to those who lend their promos and help write the matches for the show. Huge props to Danny for putting the whole show together and making sure it fits. Awesome job everyone except for me. Can't wait for the next one.

[George]

6/9 AY NICE, NICE. That’s what we wanna see. I think this show was genuinely good, better than last week even and I didn’t even win this week! That’s a helluva lot to say from a heavily egoed writer (not, but kinda). Very looking forward to what awaits us in our impending doom. Also where the heck is that Tapout fellow! Gone to Vegas again clearly.

I wrote a match for once! Was pretty hyped to take this one and is probably one of the better 1-1 matches I’ve done, with having some fun on commentary as well as easter eggs that nobody will ever read! It was gonna be a draw but Danny said “I do not like draws anymore” like a shock revelation. Very much looking forward to seeing what Gunn (it feels weird not calling to a shoot name (I will absolutely dig out all your shoot names cowards)) does from Ciampa from here as there are many routes, first clearly by burying Jye.

I’m a fan of these new guys in Kingston and Knight, I think it looks like they’ll probably be going straight into a feud or something and undercard Final Battle. Very much looking forward to seeing what they do with the whole Fact of Life segment next week, I’d assume it’d have something to do with this feud or it could link to a run in or something.

Very surprised to see that Crann’s Galloway is 0-2 so far going on the G1 journey especially considering that I managed to beat Conway last week. I very much hope it'll be 0-3 after this coming week! Very glad that Conway bounced back though.

Was bummed out to see that Tapout fell off the map so quick this time, was hoping he’d stick around for at least a little longer this time. Oh well.

It’s nice that this Orton vs Wyatt feud is going forward after he helped him out for the dub last week. Would expect Wyatt to retain and go to face the G1 winner but who knows.

Fujita is gonna stick that Punk dude up his own ass someday. Pesky ass dude. Scum. Summer of Punk? More like Scum of Summer amrite. Can’t win without Joe and only proving it more every day!

Was a little discouraged losing the match after that thread this week but nevertheless I understand the decision may be influenced by the overarching storyline and stuff, and the match that Fauche wrote to go with it was heckin flames. Big love for putting the work into that match my bruddah and I shall sell the leg from now til forever.