Post by Danny on Jul 15, 2021 15:17:20 GMT -6
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.
Mauro Ranallo: Eddie Kingston puts the Prime Time Medal on the line against Matt Sydal.
Corey Graves: We’ve also got John Cena and Rob Conway scheduled to mix it up.
Tom Phillips: As well as Tommaso Ciampa and Chad Gable.
Mauro Ranallo: LA Knight takes on Hornswoggle.
Corey Graves: And in our non-title main event, WARHORSE will grapple with Seth Rollins.
Tom Phillips: But first we’ve got Apollo Crews versus Rey Mysterio in non-title action.
Rey Mysterio's theme hits the arena and the fans give a mix reaction with mostly boos.
Emerging by him is Rey Mysterio's super heroes in training Ali and Ricochet flanking him in his matches to make sure nothing happens to the hero of the UWF. Rey walks down the ramp.
Tony Chimel: Ladies and gentlemen making his way to the ring. From San Diego, California UWF's resident superhero Reyyyyy Mysssteeerrriiioooo!
Rey enters the ring and removes the shroud covering his face showing his one eyed mask look that he has adopted. Rey doesn't show the same emotion he had once before as he enters the top rope but he does point to the crowd and saying "I'll protect you." Rey jumps off and awaits his opponent.
VS 
DING DING DING
Mauro Ranallo: And here we go, the former Television Champion vs the current Television Champion.
Tom Phillips: I'd like to say that these are two extremely gifted athletes but look at Rey.
Corey Graves: Oh boohoo, he lost a match. You think I got tired of losing to The Cartel? I picked myself up by my bootstraps and I won the International Championship. That's the same title Bray Wyatt has today!
Tom Phillips: Well... not literally.
Mysterio stands across from Crews and looks like he doesn't even want to fight. Crews smiles at this broken shell of a man and straight up pie faces him, forcing him to the ground. He turns to face the crowd who are booing him as if to taunt them and say "Is this your hero?". While the crowd certainly hasn't been a fan of Rey's antics as of late, he's still a living legend, one that Apollo Crews plans to end erase here. He picks up Rey and walks with him to the edge of the ring. He starts doing bicep curls with Rey in his hands before just tossing him overhead like garbage with a Fallaway slam. Mysterio starts to get back to his feet but Crews grabs him from behind and throws him back with a German Suplex! He keeps his hands clasps and rolls over to pick up Rey and again and give him a second German Suplex. He's just completely having his way with Rey as he picks him up once more. He goes for the Release German Suplex but somehow Rey flips over and lands on his feet!
Mauro Ranallo: Looks like there might be some fight in Rey Mysterio after all!
Corey Graves: Calm down Mauro it was just one escape. Watch how Crews gets back in the driver's seat.
Apollo rushes back to his feet and charges Rey and almost as if moving purely by instinct, Rey catches him with a Drop Toe Hold to send him into the middle rope. Mysterio's legs push him forward, coming off the ropes and coming back for the 619! Except Crews ducks it and Rey rotates all the way around, landing on the apron. Crews retreats to the center of the ring and turns around only to see Rey come springboarding off, nailing him with the West Coast Pop into the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
Crews kicks out! Both men rush up to their feet and Rey goes for the Hurrincanrana except the power of Crews manages to not flip over, instead hoisting Rey back up in a Powerbomb position. It's not long before he sends Rey to the mat with the All Out Assault! A trio of Powerbombs has Rey laid out but Crews isn't done there. He lifts Rey back up, pushing him overhead into a Military Press. He goes to drop him behind but Rey shifts his body weight and manages to catch Crews with a DDT! Apollo holds the top of his dome and rolls to the outside while Rey groggily gets back to his feet.
Crews is stumbling around on the outside and Rey comes running over, taking him out with a Baseball Slide! Crews is knocked into the barricade but Mysterio gets him right back up and rolls him back into the ring. The former International Champion hops onto the apron and climbs up to the top rope. Crews is prone in the middle of the ring as Rey soars for the Frog Splash! Crews gets his knees up however and Mysterio lands flush on them! He rolls around in agony but Apollo lifts him up from behind before spinning him out into The Chariot! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, the Television Champion, Apollo Crews!
Crews gets handed his Television Championship and raises it up high as he looks down on Mysterio. He's more than satisfied with a win over a former World Champion and simply exits the ring and heads to the back as the show moves on.
The scene shifts to a pre recorded segment where Sami Zayn is standing by.
Sami Zayn: I'm here at some budget wrestling school called Black and Brave scouting for some new talent. I heard this place was owned by some great wrestler but judging by the prospects around here, I'd say the guy can't wrestle worth a damn. I mean come over here and take a look.
Sami brings the camera man around to show two students practicing rolls.
Sami Zayn: They're feet position is all wrong, they're putting all their weight on their necks when they roll. Some people just shouldn't have wrestling schools if you ask me. Now If I was to open a school, it'd be state of the art. I could train an absolute beginner to be UWF bound in less than 6 months. Even these losers in the ring would flourish under me/ Sadly I don't have that amount of time to find someone worthy of being managed by me. All these guys suck. Maybe I'll have better luck checking out Flatbacks. At least those guys know how to work.
Marek Brave: Hey!
The camera pans over to show Marek Brave, one of the owners of Black and Brave. He comes walking over with a look of disdain on his face.
Marek Brave: Who gave you permission to film here?
Sami Zayn: I did. Forever Champion Sami Zayn here, I'm sure you've heard of me. Look here's $20 I'm sure that's more than this cheap school can afford to pay you.
Marek Brave: I'm one of the owners of this school.
Sami Zayn: Yikes! Well I guess you need that $20 more than I thought.
Marek Brave: Hey asshole, I don't care if you go around with this fake title and call yourself champion, my partner kicked your ass at Wrestlemania and I'll gladly hand your ass to you also!
Marek pulls his fist back but Sami si quick to stop him.
Sami Zayn: Injured! You attack me and I close this rinky dink school down for good. You'll be paying for legal fees out the ass kid. Now If you want to fight, I'll be more than happy to do that when you reach the level of the UWF. Until then, move aside loser.
Sami walks off but Marek persues him until he's blindsided from behind by two men! They beat him down and reveal themselves to be none other than Dan Lawrence and Markus Crane, the Wet Bandits!
Dan Lawrence: Sup Sam? Dirty DL here. Heard you was looking for a couple of ass kickers. I'll let you know that I defeated the great Baron Corbin in a UWF ring once.
Sami Zayn: I don't know who you guys are but beating up a loser like this isn't that impressive. Being in UWF before is but the fact that you're not still there says a lot. I'm still going to scour the globe for a new protege but your welcome to try and change my mind. Until then, I'm off.
Sami leaves the Wet Bandits behind as the show moves on.
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.
Chimel: Next... from Dublin, Ireland... weighing in at 147 pounds... The King, Hornswoggle!
"Down With The King" by Run DMC hits as King Hornswoggle come out to a chrous of boos and he smiles wearing his crown. He walks down the entrance ramp waving all to his peasants as he turns to the right and he walk up the steel steps. He walk along the ropes as he stops and he slides under the ring ropes. He gets into the ring as he walks over to the female announcer hands him the microphone. He grabs the microphone right after he smacks her butt and she slaps him hard. He falls down onto the floor with a red mark on his face as his theme music stops.
VS 
DING DING DING
Knight leans against the ropes, looking aghast that he even has to deal with this. Swoggle is mean mugging him and yells for him to bow to his king. Knight walks over to him and drops to his knees. Swoggle laughs as it looks like Knight may actually bow. but instead he slaps Hornswoggle so hared that he gets knocked out cold! Knight is laughing as the ref checks on the little man. Swoggle tells him to get his dirty peasant hands off of him and recollects himself. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of gold knuckles. They're like brass knuckles but you know, gold. Because he's a leprechaun. Anyways he makes a show of it and the ref takes them away from him. He goes to toss it outside but Swoggle runs over to Knight who is still on his knees and kicks him right in the balls! Swoggle then grabs his head and jumps in the air to plant him with a DDT! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
But NO! Knight kicks out just in time!
Tom Phillips: Could you believe if Hornswoggle just scored a victory over LA Knight?
Mauro Ranallo: He'd have to change his name from LA Knight to Florida Knight.
Swoggle walks to the corner and starts tuning up the band. Knight slowly rises to his feet and when he turns around, Swoggle comes forward for some Sweet Shin Music! Knight grabs his shin and bounces on one leg. Swoggle runs behind him and gets down on all fours causing Knight to trip over him! Knight falls down and gets Million Dollar Baby'd as his neck lands over the bottom rope. Luckily he's not paralyzed or anything, it just hurts like hell as he rolls around the ring close to the ropes. Swoggle walks over to the same corner and climbs up to the top rope. Next thing you know he leaps off with the Tadpole Splash! It lands flush and he stays on him for the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, Hornswoggle!
Corey Graves: WHAT!?
Mauro Ranallo: The former Television Champion has just returned in a big way.
Corey Graves: I think I may have to retire. I've seen it all!
Swoggle is all sorts of giddy as he exits the ring only to rush underneath it leaving the fans to wonder what exactly just happened as the show moves on.
The prime time medal. It was the only thing that mattered and now that he had it, it was going to be a pain to keep it. It was open season on him now. It meant that anyone and everyone could step up and come at him, LA Knight was the first, but he was not going to be the last. There were going to be more - and Eddie Kingston was going to welcome them all with open arms, he was never the kind of man to step down from a challenge.
“Come one come all. It is open season on me now. I have put a target on my back for all you fuckers to come at me. The prime time medal - is a ticket right to the top, you all know that I have it - which one of you sons of bitches has the biggest balls to come and try and take it from me.”
It was clear he was fired up. He was not wasting time. This sport it was everyone for themselves, he could count his friends on one hand and still he didn’t fully trust them. You didn’t get to the top of the industry by playing fair, by forming friendships. It was dog eat dog and with the prime time medal in his dishes, everyone was looking a piece.
“All my life I have wanted this. The prime time medal - it is my daughter. It is my child and you sick bastards are trying to take her away from me. What do you think a father would do if that were to happen. What do you think any man would do if someone kicked down the door to his family home and tried to take his flesh and blood? Make no mistake about it, this here is mine. Twenty years and I ain’t letting it go. A man would at least stand up and do something, but I ain’t a man. I am a fucking monster when it comes to the prime time medal. When it comes to my legacy - forget about it. Your going to have to fucking kill me and trust me, if Knight, Crews, Orton and tonight Sydal - could not fucking do it, what chance do any of you have?”
He stared forward as he was sending his message out loud and clear to everyone. He had what they wanted - it was that simple. If they wanted it - they were going to have to come after him and kill him.
“I am the holder of the prime time medal - and that’s how it is. I worked my ass off to get it and I will not let it go to anyone lesser than me - which is all of you here. I am on my way to the top, I got my sights set on that masked son of a bitch and if you all got a problem with that, if you all think it should be you - then you know were the ring is. When they scrap the remind of Sydal off the ring mat tonight - just remember the image, because when it comes to this, there is no fucking around.”
That was it. Message delivered and no fucking around. Knight had tried and failed, Sydal was next up and guess what - it was ending only one way for him as well. The prime time medal was his and the only way to get it off him was from his cold dead fingers.
Things head backstage where The Will are as Heath is pacing the floor.
”The One Man Band” Heath Slater: I can’t wrap my mind around it, Rhino. How did Punk snatch AJ out of the air like that for the GTS and pin him? Punk’s not supposed to be that quick thinking. After the wrench fiasco against WARHORSE, I didn’t believe he was capable of much thought at all. Plus, AJ’s beaten him before! I just don’t understand what happened.
”The War Machine” Rhino: Gore.
”The One Man Band” Heath Slater: It’s not because it’s the Summer of Punk! What would make you say something like that?
”The War Machine” Rhino: Gore.
”The One Man Band” Heath Slater: So? That’s not AJ’s fault! We don’t have a Rebellion so you don’t get to go looking for Yikes and you think that makes it okay to start drinking a nemesis of AJ’s Kool-Aid? Get it together, buddy, AJ needs us right now!
Suddenly an unexpected face enters the room with a few guys in tow.
Stone Cold: What AJ needed was a gah dang ass whippin’, and he got it. Now maybe he’ll pull his head out of his ass and set it back on his shoulders!
”The One Man Band” Heath Slater: You think you can just barge in here and start disrespecting the, “Demi God”? Why are you here anyway?
One of the men with Stone Cold steps forward.
Vinny Marseglia: UWF Hall of Famers don’t need a reason to go anywhere, Heath. We just show up when we feel like it.
”The War Machine” Rhino: Gore.
Another of the group steps forward.
Mick Foley: Easy now. We’re just analysts nowadays but ask Sting here, it can be Showtime anytime!
Heath and Rhino have a tense staredown with the four men before Austin and crew gradually begin to walk offscreen, Vinny the last to exit as Revolution continues.
DING DING!
Tony Chimel: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
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. 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, Cena dives at Conway with a Shoulder Tackle. Rob gets up and Cena pivots around and connects with another one. Rob gets up again and Cena pivots around as Rob throws a punch but John avoids it and hoists Conway up, spinning him out and planting him on the mat. Cena gets down in the former Television Champion’s face and waves his hand in front of his own face as the fans say, “YOU CAN’T SEE ME!”.
John heads to the ropes, then dusts his shoulder off a few times before connecting with the Five Knuckle Shuffle as Rob sits up after impact and Cena guides him to a vertical base before hoisting the, “Con Man” onto his shoulders and connecting with the Attitude Adjustment. John goes for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING DING DING!
Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, John Cena!
Cena raises his arms in victory before exiting the ring and heading up the ramp with Eve as Revolution continues.
The Firefly Funhouse intro plays, but instead of being brought into the funhouse what plays on the tron is footage from UWF Final Battle.
It's when I become undeniable.
The screen suddenly pauses on that image with an old timey VHS like pause, and the camera slowly backs away showing the image now on an old Television set and the weird sight of what looks to be a Cartoon Ruler with a face being held up to the screen.
You can hear voices off screen as the hand tries to measure the screen.
?: Nah man that's not how ya do it, ya gotta get it from the top
?: If you'd just give me a sec-
As the camera zooms out to reveal the voices it shows Bray Wyatt on one knee holding the ruler in front of his T.V set as Ramblin' Rabbit is bouncing around behind it. Bray notices the camera and smiles
Bray Wyatt: Oh, well howdy there Fireflies, Ya'll caught me testing some stuff out. See at Final Battle, CM Punk won the be my new friend contest we've been holding and since I oh so LOOOOVE to get to know my friends I wanted to go over what he said again and again. And One of the MANY things he said, was that the metric by which this sport recognizes talent was...All kinds of Fudged up, and so I decided to put my own metrics to work and measure him up myself with the help of my handy dandy ruler, Rulington Rulesworth the Third, otherwise known 'round these parts as just Ruley!
Bray holds up "Ruley" and the sound of a child audience cheering loudly is heard with a big "Yaaaaaaay"
Ruley: Hi Fireflies, it's beyond measure how nice it is to see all of ya'll!
Bray Wyatt: Oh Ruley, what are we gonna do with ya? Hahahah Well as you can see, it doesn't seem like you measure up all that much in the grand scheme of things, I think that might explain why all your shouting and call outs have gone unnoticed. Because you barely fill up this lil screen right here, no wonder ya haven't been getting my attention.
Ruley: That's Right-O, You barely measure on my Centimeters side, I guess that's the real reason you're named... C M Punk!
Bray Wyatt: Ahhh I get it Ruley, you're incorrigible.
Ramblin' Rabbit: Heh Heh Yo dude I guess you'd say that you're a real-
Suddenly Bray snaps the ruler in half, and you hear a blood curdling scream of utter pain. Bray casually tosses the broken ruler over his shoulder and you can hear a loud crashing cartoon noise as Wyatt smiles like nothing is happening and Rabbit shivers in fear.
Bray Wyatt: Oop, if I didn't know any better, I'd say there's a bit of a...Rule-Breaker in me. HAHAHA
Bray slams his hand on the top of the t.v set hard, making the flowers fall over with the shaking of the set as he cackles over the shivering puppet for an uncomfortable amount of time before he turns back to the camera and regains his composure instantly.
Bray Wyatt: Ya see Punk, all your grand standing and hot-doggin, all your Big boy problems that you go on and on and on and on about...They simply do not measure up. To you, 7 months is a long waiting period, but it took me years to break myself apart into nothingness just to be painfully rebuilt and claim everything I was always destined to get. You wave the flag of the "Summer" of Punk, when it is simply the first year of what I have plan in the Era of Wyatt. You say there is no one as hungry as you are, But you have no idea of the agony of what true starvation feels like. You unappreciated the meals you did get, through them to the side and claim you're hungry still. And even then, even when you claim to want it oh so badly. You, just like all the people before you, all the people that have slowly been disappearing one by one in the UWF, say you don't even Want it. My prized possession, my favoritest toy, The whole world in the palm of my hand. And C-M Punk doesn't even want it, he's too Cool for school, he's too much of a bad-mama-jamma to ever care about something. Heh heh heh, Ramblin' what was it that Breezey compared him too again?
Ramblin' Rabbit is simply shivering too afraid to pay attention to whatever is being said, but Wyatt simply continues on as usual.
Ah that's right, he said you were like those attention seekers online who post about having such a rough time, and saying they don't want to talk about it and yet constantly bringing it up and drawing attention to it so they can get sympathy. Breezey knows more about that social media stuff than I do, but it does sound an awful lot like the guy who doesn't care about titles yet is always talking about them, the guy who belittles everyone around him and thinks so highly of himself yet can't stop talking about others. It's really a shame that you fill your own mind with all these emotion filled rants, I bet it's hard for you to even hear yourself in there. I used to be like that, yah huh, but I became better...I became...welp haha, what I am today. And Punk, for all your salty language and constant barraging of my character, I feel a Kinship with you. Like the true person inside of you being drowned out by the storm of complaining and claiming that goes on, could be my realest of friends. You worry so much about what Everyone thinks about you, it's what drives your very soul to go that extra step, Heck it's what drove you to win the whole G1 hahaha. I know what it's like, I know what it's like to feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and scramble desperately to keep it afloat. That's why I want to help you, I want you to become better than the best in the world. And the only way to do that, is to do for you what....H̷e̵....Did for me. The people that thought like you, that wanted the adulation and yet disrespected the very thing that conveyed that, they are becoming extinct in the UWF. The ones who would win it, and lose their drive after a month, the ones who stepped on and threw around the world like a trinket, they all faced what is not Undeniable, but what is Inevitable.
Brays faces turns serious and cold as the camera begins to zoom in on it.
The talented, the strong, the fierce, the Best, The GODS that all have come before you, were put down not to be heard from again. Not because they were denied, but because they faced something greater than any single being can ever amount to. Inevitability reached them, and as hard as they fought...it was never in question what their outcomes would be. Some panicked, some went silently, some truly never stopped until the end, but eventually...The End came. Do you want to feel what I've felt, change everything about yourself to be in a world where Fun can reign forever...or do you want to face inevitability. I know you, more than you may think. And I know that unlike some others, you truly won't scare easily but that's what I've been trying to let everyone know since day one. There is plenty to fear, but once you've been set upon the road you're now embarking...it can all wash away. When I went down that road, with...H̵i̷m̶...on the other side...well I was all the things you say I am now. I was a coward, scared of what would happen...scared of what H̵e̴'d do once I opened the door that was banging and banging neverendingly. That if the door was opened...H̵e̴'̵d̵ ̵H̵u̶r̶t...H̴̵̸e̴̴̴'d Ma̸i̷m...He̶'̴d̷ ̴D̷e̵v̴our until NO̸T̵H̵ING...was left. But I'm not scared anymore, Punk...Because there's no point in being afraid of the inevitable.
The image on screen begins to shake violently as Wyatt remains still staring into the camera, when the shaking suddenly changes the face on the image.
L̵̲̓E̶͕̚T̴̡̅ ̷̬̐M̵̗͑E̶̼͝ ̷̡̓I̷̤̔N̶̳̿
We cut backstage to where EC3 is in his office speaking with Maxine.
EC3: I don't care what Sami says, you do not let him bring in anyone who he wants. I have a list of approved names who are borderline ready that I think he can elevate to the next level but do not let the Wet Bandits-
Before EC3 can finish his sentence, his door is pushed open and none other than AJ Styles is there.
EC3: AJ, good match at Final Battle but I'm a bit busy right now and-
”The Demi God” AJ Styles: Good from where you’re standing maybe but for me? I couldn’t be more displeased with it. I know I can beat Punk, and despite all that heat of the moment jaw jacking that Final Battle was the last time, I want a rematch.
EC3: Look, I'm happy to give you another match with Punk down the road but there's another former World Champion he wants to avenge his loss against next week so for now you're at the back of the line.
”The Demi God” AJ Styles: The back of the line? Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? Screw what happened at Final Battle, I’m the best talent you’ve got! The line starts where I’m standing! I can beat Punk! I can beat Wyatt! And you better believe I can beat whoever the hell Punk is facing next week!
EC3: I know where you're coming from but maybe it's time to reevaluate your standing here. You've lost to both Punk and Bray but being third place ain't so bad. Maybe you should try your hand at regaining the Intercontinental Championship. I here WARHORSE is looking for some competition.
”The Demi God” AJ Styles: WARHORSE isn’t the one I want to shut up or take down, but fine, you don’t want to give me what I want then what happens is on your hands!
AJ furiously storms out of the office.
EC3: Keep and eye on him. Last thing I need is another headache around here.
DING DING!
Tony Chimel: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…
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 the 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!
As the ring bell sounds, Ciampa connects with the bridge of his opponent’s nose with a stiff forearm. Gable staggers back a few steps and finds his back to the ropes as Ciampa charges and connects with a Running Uppercut. Gable is visibly knocked silly as the, “Psycho Killer” grabs him and throws him into the corner, Chad hitting back first and coming staggering forward but a Headbutt followed by a shove to the chest with both hands puts him back. Ciampa backs up a short distance and then charges forward, stepping up and clobbering Gable with a Rising Knee to the jaw. Ciampa grabs Chad as he falls forward and uses the momentum to connect with a Suplex as the ring seems to shake from the impact of the two men hitting the mat.
Ciampa gets up with a crazed look in his eye like he’s a man possessed as he grabs Gable and guides him up to his feet, placing Chad’s head between his legs as he hoists him up and connects with the Project Ciampa. As Gable lies there writhing in agony, Ciampa reaches down and grabs him, guiding him up as he connects with another Project Ciampa. Tommaso covers.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING DING DING!
Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, Tommaso Ciampa!
Ciampa raises his arms in victory before exiting the ring and heading up the ramp as Revolution continues.
The scene opens up to Heyman sitting near the stage arena with his own stage and table set up area. It’s his mini talk show that was such a hit the only other time he debuted it in the company. But this week, the oval shaped manager has a lot to get off of his chest.
Paul Heyman: Welcome to the latest episode of TALKING SMACK!
Heyman slams his hand down hard on the table at the same time he says ‘smack’ to provide extra emphasis.
Last week Warhorse decided to bless the world with his usual mundane speeches that forces most of our viewers around the world to change the channel. Regardless of how boring and repetitive his yelling is, the fact of the matter remains that tonight in the main event, The Horse of War will be going 1 on 1 with SETH FREAKING ROLLLLLLLINS!!!!!!!! Just make sure you get your beverages and take your bathroom break before the entrances because I highly doubt that the match will be long at all. You see I want to remind the Horse of something that I think he seems to have forgotten about. So Before he walks his happy ass down to the middle of that ring just to get his ass whooped by my client, take a few moments to think back and remember an event that happened just a few short weeks ago.
You see, My client; Seth Rollins—arguably the most athletic man on the entire roster—has already pinned you Warhorse. That’s right folks, my client led his team to victory and defeated the WarHorse’s team by PINNING the horse himself. Tonight will be no different except that it will be in singles competition which will leave WarHorse with no one and nothing to blame but himself when he comes up short. As much as The Horse man wants to toot his own horn and blow the smoke out from his own cigar, it doesn’t change that fact that my client has already beaten you. And He would love the opportunity to do it again.
WarHorse, if you haven’t realized it by now, what you think doesn’t matter. You can think you’re better than my client all you want, but just like he beat you in the tag match, he’ll do it again tonight. My client is no stranger to people not believing in his talents and abilities. My client has lived his whole life being doubted by people and he spent his entire career defeating the odds and doubts pressed against him! My client is no stranger to ill-advised jealousy and hatred. He sees The comments by the naysayers or ‘haters’ as they call them, but they don’t bother them either. We see the sideways slick remarks weekly by those with twitter fingers online in the blogs. We see the headlines in the papers and the other articles from the Bobs, Robs, Toms, Will’s and the George’s. Little thoughts by little people don’t bother my client at all. He shows up to work, clocks in, whoops ass, then asks questions later!! If the universe proposes it then so be it. Why would my client turn down the opportunity to kick someone’s ass who flat out deserves it?
Exactly he wouldn’t.
Paul Heyman sits smugly and folds his hands over each other as he looks into the camera. The feed is about to go somewhere else when the lights flicker then go out. A loud pyro goes off at the top of the stage and a familiar voice blares over the PA system.
Seth Rollins: WARHORSE!
Your journey and joyride of fame and glory stops right here. Our battle is going to culminate in familiar fashion for you. Like how your night ended at the Rumble and similar to our tag team match as foes. You losing and the reason why: ME!
Our paths are locking for a reason Horse, and the more your mouth keep flapping away, the more that belt around your waist looks like something I want to take. After taking that alley-oop for an easy title defense, the last person you want to see in the ring is Me with that belt on the line. If I were you I would pray to the Gods and Heavens above that you don’t have to do it, because that will be the day your championship reign ends.
Pyro suddenly goes off in the arena at the atage area again, and Bray’s face flashes on the titantron before a demonic and ominous voice scream out:
BESIDES IT’S PROBABLY TIME THAT SOMEONE PAYS FOR THEIR SINS ANYWAY….
The scene then rolls on else where after the eerie voice.
Our camera would cut backstage where we are met with the imagery of a gym. The usual assortment laid around the gym, punching bags, jump ropes, dumbbells, etc. Anything you'd picture in one of those Rocky montages, you'd see it here. Suddenly a figure appears wearing a hoodie, embrodied in silver lettering was the words: "Team Filthy". The man would lower the hood, revealing himself to be often outspoken, Chael Sonnen.
CHAEL SONNEN
Consider yourself lucky to have this honor. It isn't every day that an American treasure stands before you. If you've been living under a rock, the name is Chael Sonnen, and I've got balls of steel that makes John Holmes blush. Seemingly out of the blue, I get this call from EC3, and you know what they say? "Hey, Chael -- We know our products been a little stale lately, can you save this crap fest?" And I'm normally a kind individual. Contrary to what you might read in some fan fiction, or what you might read on the Internet, Chael Sonnen is a pretty stand up guy. But tonight isn't about me -- See I wasn't brought into this company to fight, because even Chael Sonnen himself isn't a miracle worker. However, I do have the dubious honor of introducing my personal friend, the man who I hand picked to join me. The very man who Chael Sonnen will covet, will protect, and will manage on his path to success -- "Filthy," Tom Lawlor. Come on out, Tommy Boy.
Tom would waste absolutely no time as he would pass Chael, shaking the hand of his apparent friend. The duo both nod their heads respectively as Tom speaks.
TOM LAWLOR
You always had a way with words, Chael. I've never been much of a talker. I've always preferred to allow my actions to speak for me. Here's the truth behind this little get together. You yourself came to me in a call, you said you had this business to attend to with the UWF. You mentioned you needed someone to fight for you. Someone who had a don't give a crap attitude. Then you mentioned the money. You mentioned the fact that I would get to fight these kids who are running rampent, making a foolery out of the wrestlin' business. And that's what most people forget about us, Chael. We've both been apart of the UFC, and the wrestling business. We know what it's like to stand in that octagon, and that ring -- The clawing, the blood, the sweat, and the tears -- It's the same thing we've both had to go through. And now that the ink is freshly etched across those contracts -- I think it's only a matter of time before business picks up. 'Cause everywhere I've ever sat foot inside -- it's always been the same story. I've had to fight like EVERY other man in that locker room. I had to look so many snot nosed brats in the face, and I'll admit -- I wanted to break some of their jaws. I wanted to knock some sense into some of these kids. I wanted to choke them out, because I actually admire, and love this business. I didn't come here for fancy accolades. For fancy gold medals, participation trophies -- I came here to SAVE wrestling. And if I have to choke out every person in that locker room to prove my point, so be it. If I need to knock to a few people on their ass to get that point across, I'll do it. 'Cause I've got two things on my mind -- Saving the biz, and securing my spot as the best man that UWF has to offer.
A wide smirk would slide across the face of Chael as he would slap the shoulder of his ally, Tom. The more outspoken member of this duo, who officially made it known he was Tom's manager, steps back into the focus to pat Lawlor on the back.
CHAEL SONNEN
Let's not get too mushy, Tom. I know you've got a heart, and are one of the most caring guys I've ever met, but you've also got the hunger of a lion. Don't be afraid to acknowledge the truth for what it is. This company is full of little yes men, puckering up and kissing ass. They're not going to look you, or myself in the eye, because we're not yes men. We're not going to follow the rules, and I know Chael Sonnen isn't the type of person to back down from a fight, but standing across from you inside that ring, Tom -- I wouldn't want to be anyone in this company. I mean I've got the most genetically gifted package in the world. Muscles for days, and a smile that would make Mona Lisa jealous. But none of that matters, Tom. I'm just naturally gifted, but you, Tommy Boy -- You're the filthiest gift in the land. The gift that keeps on giving. No days off, bustin' cheeks, and kickin' tail -- That's your forte. That's what you do best. Consider this a formal business arrangement, and a formal notice to this entire roster. On behalf of Tom Lawlor, I, Chael Sonnen formally invite ANYONE to step up to the Tom Lawlor experience. Because not only will it prove that you're a natural klutz, and a brain dead loser, but it'll also give Tommy Boy the time to shine. 'Cause like a fat kid eating cake, Hulk Hogan using creative control, and some nobody cloggin' the main event -- It's all but guaranteed. Thank me later...
Those would be the closing words as Chael would pat Tom on the shoulder as the two would make their impromptu exit, allowing the scene to fade to black.
We head back to the ring where the Prime Time Medal holder Eddie Kingston is already in the ring, waiting for his opponent.
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
Ring announcer :
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.
VS 
DING DING DING
Both men move to the center of the ring to tie up. Sydal manages to quickly slip behind Eddie and place him in a Hammerlock. Eddie tries reaching back and throws his other elbow but Sydal dodges it easily and laughs knowing he has him right where he wants him. Kingston just walks forward and brings Matt along with him to get a rope break. Sydal backs away with his hands in the air. Eddie comes back out to face him but swift kick to the leg brings him down to a knee. Sydal lifts his leg up high and drops right over the back of Kingston's neck! Sydal turns him over and goes for a pin right away.
1 . . .
Only a one count as Eddie gets right back up to his feet. Only problem is his legs get swept out from under him with a Leg Sweep! Get turns Eddie over and ties up his legs, crossing them before placing his knees on his spine, falling back on his own back to lift Eddie into the air over his knees while pulling back on his head.
Mauro Ranallo: Looks like Sydal is out to prove he's more than just a high flyer.
Corey Graves: I mean If I was Sydal, and thankfully I'm not, I would just use what brought me to the dance. You don't see Bray Wyatt out there trying new styles because he knows what works for him and high flying works for Sydal.
Tom Phillips: Nothing wrong with expanding your game Corey.
Corey Graves: When you actually get in the ring and win some championships, maybe then I'll listen to your advice Phillips, until then, listen to the former International Champion.
Eddie manages to shift his weight and land on top of Sydal but he gets back up right away. Or at least he tries to but he's a bit light headed and his legs look wobbly after being tied up. Sydal runs at him but Eddie jolts forward and takes his head off with a Lariat! Perhaps on instinct, Sydal gets back to his feet but Eddie grabs him at the side, delivering a Saito Suplex! Matt is thrown across the ring and shuffles to the corner where he uses the ropes to get back to his feet. Bad choice as Kingston runs over and delivers the Running Arched Big Boot! Sydal falls face first to the mat and Kingston makes the pin to retain the Prime Time Medal!
1 . . .
2 . . .
Sydal gets the shoulder up at 2! His quest for gold isn't quite over but Eddie is looking at finishing this. He grabs a handful of Matt's hair and pulls him up to a seated position. He takes a few steps back to get ready for the Sidling D. He takes off and slides but Sydal drops backwards and kicks his foot up connecting right with Kingston's face! Eddie rolls to the outside to recuperate but he's not exactly safe there as Sydal comes over and slingshots himself out of the ring, landing on Kingston's shoulder and Hurricanrana's Eddie into the steel steps! He walks over and picks up the Prime Time Medal holder tossing him back into the ring. He jumps on the apron and climbs to the top rope rope but Kingston is already getting back to his feet. Matt patiently waits as Eddie turns around and eats a Meteora! Sydal makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
Kingston kicks out!
Mauro Ranallo: Sydal just almost became the new Prime Time Medal holder!
Corey Graves: Honestly, I think anyone but Eddie could bring more prestige to that medal. If this oaf makes to the WARHORSE, My head might explode from having to pick a side.
Sydal turns Eddie over onto his stomach and ties up his legs before leaning back for place him in the Muta Lock! As he's bridging however, Kingston lifts his arm up and catches Sydal's head and just slams the back of it into the mat! The impact has Sydal break the hold of his legs and Eddie just straight up starts slamming his head over and over into the mat. The ref gets on him for this and Eddie lets go. Sydal tries to get back up but Kingston grabs him and rolls him forward with a snapmare. Sydal is seated perfectly in front of him and Kingston backs into the ropes, coming off with the Sliding D! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, and STILL the holder of the Prime Time Medal, Eddie Kingston!
Mauro Ranallo: Well it looks like Kingston is just one win away from behind able to trade in that medal for a shot at WARHORSE.
Tom Phillips: HE DON'T WANT NONE BROTHER!
Kingston places the medal around his neck and kisses it before heading to the back as the show moves on...
The scene opens, baby, and we’re rolling and rocking. Tonight’s main event sees the Warhorse up against Seth Rollins, and dang, the one is here.
WARHORSE: IT’S WARHORSE, HERE WITH SOME MAIDEN DRINKS COOLER THINKING ABOUT TONIGHT, REVOLUTION, I’M GONNA KICK SOME PUSSY ASS. NOT JUST ANYONE, IT’S GONNA BE SETH ROLLINS. THE MAN OF MANY STAFF, THE DUDE WHO COULDN’T BEAT PUNK, COULDN’T BEAT WYATT. THE MAN WHO NEEDS EVERYONE ELSE AROUND HIM TO DO THE WORK THAT MAKES SETH ROLLINS.
I MEAN HELL, BROTHER, LOOK AROUND AT HIS WHOLE CAMP. HE DOESN’T EVEN COME TO THE RING TO TALK HIS OWN TALK, AND THAT JUST LEAVES HIM TO DO WALKING THE WALK AND HE STRUGGLES TO DO THAT ON THE BEST OF DAYS. LET ALONE THE DAYS HE HAS THE WARHORSE ON HIS BACK, THE WARHORSE AS HIS COMPETITION.
FRANKLY, I’VE HEARD THE GENERAL CONSENSUS AND IT IS A GODDAMN INSULT TO THINK THAT SETH EVEN DESERVES TO BE IN ANY TITLE PICTURE, HE SHOULD BE GROVELLING AT THE FEET OF THE TELEVISION DIVISION THESE DAYS BUT NO, I FACE HIM IN THE MAIN EVENT TONIGHT.
The Warhorse begins to walk away from his drink cooler branded with Iron Maiden.
THE UWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP SHOULD STAND FOR FIGHTERS, FOR PEOPLE WHO ARE WILLING TO BUST THEIR ASS OUT THERE EVERY NIGHT, I’M THAT. THE PAST FEW CHAMPIONS, THEY’VE BEEN FAR FROM IT. I WANT SOMEONE WHO HAS THAT SPARK IN THEIR EYES. SOMEONE WHO CARES TO FIGHT ME.
I’M DONE WITH BEING UNDERESTIMATED HERE, FOR A YEAR NONSTOP I’VE HEARD HOW I’M JUST A RIPOFF, I’VE HEARD HOW THE WARHORSE DOESN’T EVEN DESERVE TO WALK THIS SOIL. IF I HAVEN’T PROVED I’M BEYOND THAT I DON’T KNOW IF ANYONE WOULD EVER BE ABLE TO. TONIGHT, I FIGHT AS I ALWAYS DO BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT I DO. TIL MY LAST BREATH, BROTHER.
We head elsewhere.
As the fans funnel back in from the concession stands to take their seats, the camera cuts to the commentary table.
Ranallo: Ladies and gentlemen, more exciting action is just around the corner.
Graves: But first we take you to a press conference held earlier today, where the winner of the 2021 G1 Climax Tournament and newly minted Number One Contender for the UWF Championships, CM Punk, fielded some questions.
The titantron switches from the UWF graphic to a feed of said conference. Before long, Punk walks across the stage and takes a seat, cameras flashing from all angles. His eyes wince against the glare but it soon subsides, at which point he pulls his microphone in close.
Punk: Alright. Thanks for coming everyone. I'm sure you have a lot of questions and some deadlines to make so let's just get to it, huh? Ladies first.
Nodding towards the front row of reporters, he signals out the finest in the game to kick things off.
McCallahan: Scoops McCallahan, Associated Press. Sorta. Punk, this isn't the first time you've won the G1. Five years ago, you went on to challenge for the championship at Summerslam in a losing effort in what would prove to be a watershed moment for your career. We've always known you to be a man who doesn't mince words, so let's say it. You hit rock bottom. Given that, do you feel an added pressure to deliver this time to make up for that?
It's the kind of hard-hitting questions Scoops has made a career out of. Lesser men might be rattled, but Punk takes it in stride.
Punk: Of course I do. Who wouldn't? How many people lie awake in bed at night replaying the worst moments of their lives, fantasizing about how they would have handled it differently or what they might have said with the benefit of hindsight?
That said, I don't simply see this as... as a second chance. It's bigger than that. This is like the laws of nature being defied. Remember in the Superman movie when Lois dies so he flies backwards around the earth to go back in time? Yeah, maybe it didn't make sense. But that's the thing - this doesn't make sense. It boggles the mind. It shirks any logical explanation. Like yes, of course we've seen a thousand comebacks over the years, but who else in the history of the UWF has gone from multiple-time world champion, to a loser degenerate who gets blackballed from the sport and washes up in MMA... only to walk back in five years later and do better than he ever did before? It's unprecedented. If I hadn't have done it, I would have called it impossible. You could almost compare it to Jordan leaving for Baseball and then coming back for another three-peat, but he never really fell off until afterward. That was just his prime with a vacation in the middle. I've redefined "second wind".
But none of that means shit if I don't win the title. This is what I came back for - to prove I'm the best. It was a bumpy road, especially at first, but I've stomped it smooth and now there's only one man left between me and proving that I am what I say I am - the Best in the World.
Pushing the mic back, Punk takes a sip of water before gesturing towards another reporter in the crowd.
Kemano: Derek Kemano, ESPN. To draw further comparison to that match five years ago, you challenged an absolutely dominant champion in Kevin Steen. Some might argue that Bray Wyatt might be an even more formidable athlete, perhaps even the man to break Steen's records. Unlike Mr. Wrestling, however, Wyatt incorporates a certain pageantry and psychological aspect to his style that has proven to be one-hundred percent effective in big pay-per-view matches since his return just over a year ago. What do you plan to do differently this time in squaring off against a seemingly unstoppable champ and how are you preparing for Wyatt's mind games?
Unlike Scoops', this question looks to annoy Punk a bit.
Punk: Cause I'm different, Derek. I'm different.
Is that the most vanilla, cliche'd thing to say? Yep. Is it the truth? Uh-huh. Look at these guys Wyatt's beaten and you see they fall into one of two categories. First, we've got the showmen. The "sports entertainers". I'm talking Rollins, Styles, all the way back Mysterio. Hell, let's drop Shibata in here, too. All these idiots got caught up in the fuss. Blinded by the smoke and distracted by the mirrors. They were so enraptured by the spectacle of a man who doesn't mind dressing up like a demonic sex offender that they got got. There's a common habit with all these guys to lean into the silly side of the game, too. Styles dresses up like a video game character and pretends divinity. Mysterio's always been a weirdo, Rollins jumps from one ridiculous gimmick to the next and even the honorable Katsuyori Shibata himself got lured off path by a spooky little conman. This sport, unlike any other, attracts delusional freakshows. Bray Wyatt is the king of 'em, and that why he can beat them so easy.
Now that other category - they're just cans. Scrubs. Softer than baby shit. Randy Orton's the latest example but damn it if Minoru Suzuki wasn't the same way. These guys get on a roll, they look like killers and the second they find some adversity, they quit. They give up on themselves. One week they're headlining pay-per-views, the next they're off the face of the earth. Gone, with nothing but the shame left to remember them by.
If you went back through the list of just about every world champ of this so-called Revolution era, you could sort them into those groups. I'm the sore thumb that doesn't fit into either. So instead of asking me how I'm gonna prepare for the Bray Wyatt, maybe you should ask him how he's getting ready for someone who isn't charmed by his puppet show and who knows how to get up off their ass and hit back when the going gets tough. Bray Wyatt has wrestled everything from prima donnas to world class athletes, but he has never fought anyone who wants to win the fight more than he does. Until me.
There's a murmuring around the room, some quietly questioning Punk's ultra-confidence while others are starting to wonder if this might be the man to get the job done. Brooks singles out an eager reporter in the back.
Punk: Hey you! With the glasses! One last question and it's all yours.
A disappointed groan comes with the last call. Time's run up and Punk's been bogarting the microphone again.
Singh: Sunny Singh from the Washington Herald. So you're saying that you're heading into a match with The Fiend completely unafraid?
The Number One Contender shakes his head and sighs.
Punk: This guy gets the last question and he wants me to repeat myself? Nice one, pal. But maybe I can a little bit more specific for you, since it didn't seem to sink it.
I can't speak for the rest of the world and how they deal with fear, but for me? For me... fear makes me angry. Like how dare this thing - whatever it is - try and take up space in my head. When I'm angry, I don't sit around and bitch and complain or try to wish it away, I do something about it. For most of my life I was scared about what substance abuse would turn me into. When I found out, it made me madder than I've ever been, and that's the energy that got me clean and brought me back here. How many of these assholes over the past seven months have thrown that lapse into my face? But I'm not ashamed. I used it. I use everything. Fear can't throw me off. It can't hinder me. What I turn that into is just one more weapon I can use to beat Bray Wyatt.
When I see a deranged monster standing across the ring, I'm not gonna be shaking in my boots. Sure, I've seen the way he cuts guys down. For Christ's sake, he left Shibata buried alive in the catacombs in Paris. This dude is a psychopath and that's a lot to deal with. But really, what I feel when I think about Bray Wyatt is an almost crippling wave of second-hand embarrassment. I cringe when I think that a grown ass man would go to all that trouble, and it makes me sick to know that this sport allowed room for it. Or hell, that it allowed room for one of Mike Rotunda's boys to show up as anything other than himself cause he wasn't sports entertaining enough.
The Summer of Punk - The Renaissance - whatever other catchphrases or buzzwords I need to dumb it down to so I can communicate my goals - they all come to a head here. This is me erasing the outdated "Revolution era" by taking out the miserable beacon of everything it is and replacing it with something real. Something better. Something elevated. It makes perfect sense to me that the strongest champion the green brand has even seen is a literal clown because this place has turned into a three ring fucking circus. People flipping through the channels see that maniac playing with his puppets and they just keep on moving because there's no pro-wrestling in sight. That's who he is. That's what he represents - denigration. He is the tipping of the scale from sports to entertainment and I'm the ten ton wrecking ball dropping in to tip it back, once and for all.
A lot of people'll say that a Chad Gable type oughta be the guy to carry that kinda torch, but guess what? I kicked his ass so it's me. I'm the Best Wrestler. I just proved it. Bray Wyatt was playing peek-a-boo with a guy who couldn't win the TV title while I mowed a path clean through the roster to get here. So am I afraid of him? No. I've got a job to do and a bone to pick. Is he afraid of me? The fuck if I care. I don't need his terror or his respect. I'm not asking him to "let me in" - I'm kicking down the door and I'm taking that belt back to Chicago.
Punk stands up, knocking his mic aside. The camera flashes fire up again, but only catch shots of his back as he walks off stage. When the feed cuts out, Revolution continues elsewhere.
Chimel: The following contest is a Non-Title Match set for one-fall and is your Main Event of the evening!
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 ramp 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.
Chimel: Hailing from Buffalo, Iowa... weighing in at 220 lbs... SETH ROLLLLLLLLLLINNNNSS!!!!!!!
The former two-time International Champ then heads back to his corner, awaiting the arrival of his opponent.
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 heads out of the ring and the Official calls for the bell.
VS 
DING DING
These bois are off to the races from the jump. Warhorse and Rollins speed to the center of the ring, no feeling out process necessary. This isn't their first rodeo, and if Rollins has his druthers, won't be the last, either. Standing at ringside, Heyman can't help himself but to keep casting avaricious glances back at the Intercontinental Championship belt now resting on the timekeeper's table.
With the size advantage heavily in his favour, the Architect easily pushes his opponent back towards the ropes. Warhorse gets some elastic energy built up leaning into the cables, which Seth uses to launch him across the ring. The Champ sprints across the canvas, springs back and comes in hot with a shoulder tackle. Stubborn, competitive and looking to prove himself the stronger man, the two-time world champ braces himself with planted feet and accepts the offense. His and Warhorse's shoulders collide, tilting each man back though neither falls to the ground. A mist of expelled sweat showers around the scene, catching the glean of the spotlight.
Their heads pivot back around. Eye contact is locked. The crowd pops big.
Ranallo: An unstoppable force versus an immovable object - it isn't a new paradox in the wrestling universe but I can't think of a more apt description for these two forces of nature colliding.
Graves: I'm sure Warhorse is riding high off his win at Backlash, but what we saw from Rollins was something else entirely. I think Seth has found another gear and it's going to cost Warhorse if he thinks he can just muscle his way out of that problem.
Phillips: MUSCLE SOLVES EVERYTHING!
They competitors lock up again, with Rollins hastily transitioning into a side headlock. Unable to slip out, Warhorse explodes up instead, hooking a leg and taking a handful of tights to send Seth with a belly-to-back suplex of sorts. The Architect over-rotates to slip out and evade getting dropped on the back of his neck. He manages to land on his hands and knees, like a cat, then pops up to blast Warhorse with a European Uppercut when he turns around.
Warorse's head snaps back when the bicep ricochets off of his jawbone. Seth pulls his head in and down, throwing his arm around the neck and reaching to grab his foe's belt so he can try for a suplex or maybe even a Falcon Arrow. The Intercontinental Champ stomps some foot to cut that off fast. A jolt of pain and sudden lack of balance stymie Rollins' ambitions, leaving him wide open for a knee lift into the stomach. He then tucks Seth's dome under his arm, but before he can fall back for a DDT, the Iowan bursts forward and drives Warhorse back about twelve feet to slam him back-first into the turnbuckle.
Graves: Nice counter from Rollins. So much of his work in there is picture-perfect and looks amazing in the highlight reels, but sometimes you just have to get bowling shoe ugly, to borrow a phrase.
Phillips: GET YOUR OWN PHRASES, YA MARK!
A second shoulder thrust keeps Warhorse pinned in the corner. Rollins backs away while his opponent gasps to get his wind back. After clipping him with a forearm shiver, the Referee steps and insists that Seth back off. He obliges, but only to get himself enough room for a running start. Darting back in, Seth leaps up to blitz the Champ with a Stinger Splash. Heyman cackles at ringside, elated to see his man firmly in the driver's seat now.
Seth pushes the hair out of his face and circles around the ring, looking to hit a second. The Official warns him about a potential disqualification if he doesn't ease up with the action on the ropes. Rollins ignores him and runs right past. This time, however, his Splash hits nuthin' but buckle. Warhorse rolls to the side just in time to avoid impact. The Architect's chest slams into the corner. The padding helps a smidge, but the expression on his face tells a story of shocked pain.
Not missing a beat, Warhorse slips behind him, hooks his hands around the waist and then drops back with a German Suplex! He even bridges for the pin...
1...
2...
Rollins rolls out just after the second count. He's still looking groggy, mind, and doesn't put up a fight when Warhorse yanks him back up to his feet. The Hesher screams something about something in his face before decking with a heavy right. Of course the third man is right there to lecture him about the use of a closed fist. Warhorse nods like "yeah, yeah, fine, whatever" and humanely clubs his foe with a forearm shiver instead.
Seth pirouettes after the shot, and with his back to Warhorse, finds himself half-nelson'd, which obviously leads to a Half-and-Half suplex. There's an argument to be made that nobody in the UWF does that one quite like the resident Metal Head. Rollins' shoulders are driven hard into the canvas. He spills out in an awkward heap nearby and Warhorse springs over and sprawls on top for a quick try at another pinfall...
1...
2...
No! Rollins kicks out, much closer to three this time.
Ranallo: That was a close call for Seth, who has suddenly found himself on the receiving end of a beat down from the reigning I-C Champ.
Phillips: SUPLEXES FOR DAAAAAAAAAAAAYS!
Graves: Wait... hold on... look! Get that camera zoomed in! Look at Seth's eyes!
The production truck gets the memo and finds a good shot of the Architect's mug. His eyes have glazed over - but it isn't some state of semi-consciousness courtesy the suplexes. No, this is different. It's... haunted.
Heyman catches the expression up on the big screen. He backs away, retreating a few paces back from the apron in undeniable terror. He shakes his head, worried, which Warhorse notes. Believing himself to be firmly in the driver's seat, Warhorse gets up and walks towards the ropes, mocking Heyman for talking a big game only to now be so concerned about his meal ticket's well-being. Paul doesn't engage, still looking like he's seen a ghost.
The Champ shrugs and goes back to work, but when he turns around, he finds Rollins standing tall right in front of him, apparently revived like some kinda zombie. Warhorse throws a punch only for it to be caught. Rollins then quickly steps to one side and lifts, using that captured limb for leverage to dump his opponent with a reckless release Uranage. There's a familiarity in his execution of the maneuver.
Graves: This is what I was talking about earlier. This is what we saw in Seth's match with Fujita at Backlash, and in the weeks before that.
Ranallo: Rollins has re-entered this sort of Fugue state. We've seen more and more of this ever since... well... since Seth clashed with the UWF Champion, Bray Wyatt.
Graves: More specifically, since Rollins met The Fiend.
Warhorse gets up on his hands knees. His recovery is cut short with a stomp to his spine. Collapsing, he is promptly hoisted up and torpedo'd back into the corner. There's no Stinger Splash to follow up this time. Rollins stays right on top of him, blitzing him with some frenzied strikes. The Official starts up a five count but abandons that when Rollins goes to shove his hand in Warhorse's mouth. He bravely gets himself between the competitors and pushes Rollins away, threatening a disqualification. Rollins stares at him blankly so the Ref turns to Heyman, asking him to get his man under control. Paul still looks downright spooked.
Stumbling out of the corner, the Champ takes another errant swing at Rollins. Seth steps out of the way, kicks him in the gut, and hooks the neck and pants for a suplex. He elevates Warhorse overhead, but rather than go the usual route with a Falcon Arrow, he shifts his weight to the side and throws as he releases. A toss suplex, again, maybe as an homage. Warhorse slams down hard into the mat.
Trying to break through to him, and maybe just wanting to see things ended before they go to far, Heyman pleads with Seth to go for the cover. It seems to work. Seth mechanically hurries over and drops for a pin attempt, some muscle memory finding it's way through the mental haze. Rollins hooks a leg and the Ref drops to count it...
1...
2...
Warhorse kicks out in time! This just infuriates Rollins, who pulls him up by the hair into a seated postion before knocking him right back down with a lariat!
Graves: Wow! Did you hear that?
Phillips: I ONLY HEAR SLAYER, BROTHER!
The Champ is painted on to the canvas and Rollins goes for another cover, pressing his hands down on the chest while he kneels there. The Official makes another count...
1...
2...
No! Warhorse gets a shoulder up before the third count! The crowd breathes a sigh of relief. Rollins grits his teeth and stands, pulling his opponent up with him. Before he can get any more offense in, the Champ manages to spring up and nail a desperate drop kick. Two boots hit one chest and send the disturbed Architect spilling backwards towards the base of a nearby turnbuckle. Warhorse collapses down on the canvas and takes a moment to recuperate. Once he's caught his breath again, he turns to take a look at Rollins.
Lying near the corner, Seth shakes his head, a brief state of confusion disappearing when he notices Warhorse staring across the ring at him. His pursed lips curl into a demented smile and his eyes narrow. He rolls over and pops up backwards with the Exorcist Pose! The fans are shocked, some cheering at the bizarre sight, though most are just confused. Warhorse ain't buying what he's selling, though, and instantly gets up and runs over to shut it down.
Rollins drops and turns onto his stomach, launching himself up and forward to meet Warhorse on the way in. He catches and clobbers him with a massive lariat, turning the Champ inside out. Warhorse flips around and lands on his back. Rollins goes for a cover...
1...
2...
Once again, Warhorse kicks out, but there isn't much umph left in him.
Graves: This match is one Curb Stomp away from being finished.
Ranallo: Seth Rollins has dug down to find a darker, more violent side. It's effective, but at what cost, I wonder?
Heyman is crying out for him to go to that Stomp, but Rollins either can't hear him or won't obey. He kneels over Warhorse, grabs his hair and repeatedly slams his face down into the mat. Over and over again, he drives that mug into the canvas, each a little harder than the last. The Official dives in and gets between, forcing Seth away.
Rollins recoils and the third man gets up in his grill, yelling at him to get his head on straight and start doing some actual wrestling with the threat of having the match thrown out should he cross the line again. Seth stands up, the Referee stands with him. For a moment, it looks like Seth is going to hit him, but then he looks over his shoulder at the downed IC Champ. An eerie laugh escapes the Architect's lips. It sounds like it belongs to someone else. He steps around the Official and walks back over to his foe, picking him up off the ground and leaning him back over a knee.
Phillips: WHAT THE FRICKING HELL?
Graves: It's... I mean... it looks like...
Ranallo: Sister Abigail?
It sure does look like that. Rollins has Warhorse set up in prefect position for the devastating maneuver. He looks up at the camera with a sinister sneer and then flips around. Warhorse counters just in the knick of time, though, dropping and rolling up Seth outta nowhere on the way around! The Official counts it...
1...
2...
3...
DING DING
YOUR WINNER...
WARHORSE!
The crowd jumps out of their seats! Warhorse lets go and Seth rolls away. The Ref hastily grabs the title belt from the ringside crew and brings it over to the Champ, handing it to him while raising his hand.
Ranallo: Wow! Great save by Warhorse there, who looked great in the early-goings of the match but found some trouble with this new, twisted Seth Rollins we've come to know.
Graves: He survived by the skin of his teeth. That small package barely -
Phillips: MORE LIKE HUGE PACKAGE, BROTHER!
Warhorse bends over to catch his breath, nursing his head with his free hand. That match took a toll on him and - OH SNAP! ROLLINS IS BACK!
Seth clubs the champ from behind, dropping him with a shot to the back of the head. Warhorse goes down, dropping his title belt. The Architect scoops it up and looks at it with an indiscernible sort of curiosity. He then drops it right back down and drags Warhorse over, resting his head on the plate. The Official comes over but Seth just tosses him over the ropes to the floor, getting him out of the way. If anyone could stop him now, it's Heyman. Paul ain't about to do that. He's looking on from the apron, concerned and confused.
Ranallo: What the hell is Seth doing? There's no call for this! Certainly this match had championship implications but with Seth losing... and now snapping like this? I just don't know...
Graves: You're telling me that you don't think Seth could give Warhorse a run for his money? Or that Warhorse won't want payback for this? I think this is far from over.
Warhorse finally starts to get up, not sure what hit him. It gets worse. Rollins rushes back over and Curb Stomps him face-first into the Intercontinental Championship belt. Blood pools around his face. Seth takes one last look at him before turning, walking over and then through the ropes and finally back up the ramp. Heyman comes around the squared circle to follow, but keeps a fair distance.
Coming up towards the stage, the camera catches a shot of Seth Rollins' face. He looks like a stranger. He disappears to the back and Revolution comes to a close.
END OF SHOW
Credits
Cena vs Conway. Ciampa vs Gable - Dresden
WARHORSE vs Rollins - Fauche
Knight vs Swoggle, Crews vs Mysterio, Kingston vs Sydal - Danny
