Revolution 6/16/22

[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.



Mauro Ranallo: Hello everyone and welcome to Revolution! I'm Mauro Ranallo alongside my partners Tom Phillips and former International Champion Corey Graves.

Corey Graves: The King of the Ring rolls on tonight and I can't wait to see Danhausen and Shark Boy lose!

Tom Phillips: Don't count your eggs there Graves but aside from the tournament matches, we have some singles action as CM Punk looks to take on Trevor Lee.

Mauro Ranallo: And for the especially bloodthristy tonight, Dean ambrose goes one on one with Randy Orton in a Street fight!

Tom Phillips: Plus Homicide takes on Austin Theory. All that and more tonight on Revolution!




The scene opens on Batista sitting backstage in a chair as he looks ahead into the camera.



”The Hollywood Animal” Batista: You’re all talk, Shark Boy. You’ve heard me tell you that though so here’s a fresh piece of ear candy for you to gnaw on: I wasn’t even trying the night you beat me. You weren’t worthy of my effort, and you still aren’t, but the difference is there’s more hanging in the balance than a simple win or loss so yeah, tonight you’re getting more of Big Dave than you got before. You’re getting hoisted up like the catch of the day and then dropped like an anchor, boy, and it’s going to hurt. But it’s going to hurt more than just your body, it’s going to hurt deep down in your pride, something is going to break in your spirit and you’re going to be inconsolable once you get handed this loss and don’t get another shot at the UWF Championship. Because I’m in the business of making my dreams reality and keeping other peoples’ dreams fantasy, and business is good. The, “Hollywood Animal” is the one beast you can’t drown, Shark Boy. I’m claiming this deep water for myself, and holding you under until you can’t breathe anymore. Then it won’t just be the bottom line, it’ll be the flatline.

Batista puts on his sunglasses before standing up and leaving the room as Revolution continues.




The titantron switches from the UWF graphic to a live feed from backstage where Renee Young is standing by.



Young: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my guest at this time, CM Punk.

The Straight Edge Superstar walks into the shot, wrists already taped and boots already laced ahead of his match later on. He greets the company's best backstage correspondent with a nod as he comes over.

Young: Punk, thanks for joining me.

Punk: As always, happy to be here, Renee.

Young: Tonight you're taking on the Number One Contender for the UWF Television Championship, Trevor Lee, for the first time in your career. Are you still keeping an eye on the up-and-coming talent? Has anything from Lee's stint here caught your attention?

Punk: Oh, well, you said it yourself. At Backlash he beat some quality guys to earn himself a title shot against Orton. I'll beat the "too many titles" drum until the day I die - that said, there's no denying what this kid's been able to accomplish in the few months here's been here.

I've been a little busy looking over my shoulder lately to be scoping out the ranks, but word gets around. I've heard the hype. I'm aware of the results. By all accounts, Trevor Lee is the real deal. He's looking to rebound from a loss, so am I. I think you're gonna see a good match between us.

The mood dampens a bit when Renee asks the follow-up.

Young: Speaking of, a loss tonight would be the first time since your return that you've suffered three consecutively -

Punk: It would. So sorry to interrupt, but yeah, absolutely, that's been in the back of mind all week. Losing drives me up the wall, cause I'm a competitor. I'm here to win. I wanna come out on top in every single match I wrestle. I know that won't always be the case, but I'll be damned if that's not the goal. Taking an L to a guy like Danhausen or Shark Boy - those ones don't bother me so much. I wake up early the next day, hit the gym, watch the tape, figure out what I can do better next time.

These last two, though? Jesus. Like... I know I'm a better pro-wrestler than Dave Batista. I've beaten John Cena before. The only reason I'm not competing in the semi-finals of the King of the Ring tonight is because Sami Zayn is the greasiest, slimiest scumbag in the game, and he can't help himself but to do everything in his power to make my life miserable. So now being a great wrestler isn't enough, I gotta find a way to multi-task and do the Ref's and the whole entire security team's jobs, too.

Before Renee can even ask another, Punk just carries on with the tirade.

Punk: You look back at every match I was on the wrong side of a three count since I came back, ninety-nine percent of the time its because a third party stuck their nose in my business. Distraction, interference, whatever. It's beyond cliche at this point. EC3 isn't interested in doing anything about it, and I'm not about to stoop to that level. So what's the answer?

Young: Are you asking me?

Brooks shakes his head and shrugs, then takes a deep breath to calm down some before continuing.



Punk: Look... at some point here, something's gotta give. I've been saying this for a long time now, that I have this concept of what pro-wrestling can and should be. I'm not losing sleep over the hard truth that life isn't always fair, but we've got more talent here than any other company in the world. We deserve pure competition. The fans deserve it. The boys in the back. Everyone. I'm fighting for that world while some other people are pushing hard in the exact opposite direction.

You narrow in on the week-to-week and look at things on the small scale, yeah, it looks like I'm in a losing battle here. But at this stage in my career, on the far side of all those titles and records and other bright and shiny achievements, the one thing I have to aspire toward is a legacy that says I left this place better than it was when I got here. Selfishness has a short self life. I'm just trying to build something other people can stand on some day. That's just turning out to be a bit tougher than I thought it was gonna be, but so what? I was born for tough.

Now I'm gonna go find out about this man from Kentucky. Thanks again, Renee.

He heads down the hall towards Gorilla while Renee Young signs off. Revolution continues elsewhere.



Chimel: The following contest is set for one-fall and is a Semi-Final match-up in the King of the Ring tournament!



As “Sasquatch” by Ice Cube begins to play, the UWF fans immediately start booing as they know who’s coming out. They’re correct as out walks the, “Hollywood Animal” as the lights dim and a spotlight shines on him as he walks down the ramp with a cocky smile on his face.

Chimel: Introducing first, from Washington D.C. Weighing in at two hundred and ninety pounds, BATISTA!

Batista enters the ring and starts shaking the ropes before turning to the stage and awaiting his opponent.

GIVE ME A SHELL YEAH!

*CRASH*





The crowd erupt as the glass shatters and the guitar laden sounds of The Toadies' 'I Come From The Water' blare over the PA system. Shark Boy wastes little time in marching out from behind the curtain full of piss and vinegar, he's mouthing off to everyone and anyone in his immediate path. The crowd at ringside reach at Shark Boy but he maintains his focus on the ring stomping his way down the ramp continuing to mouth off the entire way down the ramp towards ringside.

Chimel: And his opponent, from the Deep Blue Sea, weighing in at 205 pounds... SHARK BOY!

Shark Boy stomps up the steps and through the ropes into the ring, he makes a b-line for the corner where he heads to the top rope and throws out the fin-salute to the crowd before throwing his two fists high into the air for all the Shark-o-holics out there. Shark Boy repeats this at the three other corners before taking off his vest and waiting for the bell to sound.

The two superstars stare each other down while Tony steps out of the ring. After ensuring the fellas are good to go, the Official calls for the bell.


VS

DING DING


The bell sounding might as well be a pistol firing at the starting line - Shark Boy hears it and springs right into action. SCSB practically sprints across the squared circle to attack Big Dave, bludgeoning him with a running forearm and following that up with a flurry of strikes to catch his opponent off guard early.


Ranallo: Shark Boy is coming out swinging!

Phillips: There's no love lost between these two and Shark Boy isn't one to sit back and take the trash talk Batista was dishing out earlier this week

Graves: In my opinion, Shark Boy is telegraphing some desperation here. He saw how devastating Batista looked in his return to action and is throwing everything out there right away because he thinks that's his best shot of lasting more than five minutes.


The fast and furious onslaught of punches and elbows and headbutts and what-have-you's sees the Shellraiser backing up Batista into the ropes. All that piss and vinegar riles up the Shark-O-Holics. They're chanting their boy's name while he pummels the Animal until his back is pressed into the cables.

At that point, the Referee is duty-bound to intervene. He calls for a clean break, and it takes a warning count reaching four before Shark Boy finally backs off. He's a-huffin' and a-puffin', all revved up and ready to go as he backs away paces around. Homie ain't about to get DQ'd - not with the honour of being crowned King of the Ring on the line - but suffice it to say he's itching for a scrap tonight.

Batista curses out the Ref when he checks in on him. The rough start has Big Dave in poor spirits. He's feeling as salty as the water that his opponent calls home.

Shark Boy circles around and comes looking for trouble once his foe is away from the ropes. Once again, he charges at Batista. This time, though, the Animal is ready. He anticipates that devil-may-care offense and catches the guy coming in with a big, nasty lariat that damn near turns the masked superstar inside out.


Graves: What a powerhouse! Batista is freaky strong.

Ranallo: No argument from me on that point, Corey. Even while he's away working in Tinsel Town, Batista manages to stay in peak physical condition. We saw that in his first match since Wrestlemania last week.


Big Dave drops down, pulls the flattened SCSB closer, and shoots the half...



1...



Shark Boy powers out defiantly at one. It'll take more than a gosh dang clothesline to keep the Bass Kicker down for the count. Batista doesn't seem surprised by the kick-out, but is clearly annoyed by the audacity of anyone who thinks they stand a fighting chance against him. He yanks his fellow tournamentee into a seated position and slaps on a chinlock, driving his knee into the spine for some extra grind.

That selachimorphan mask is fixed in a permanent expression, but DMR's eyes tell a tale of woe and agony through the peeper slits. Thanks to the close-up on the titantron, even the fans in the cheap seats are able to commiserate with their hero as he winces in pain while the Animal looks to pry his head from his shoulders. They chant his name, offering up their energy and spiritual strength in the hope that it will provide him with the power he needs to overcome this torment.


Phillips: A wave of support growing behind Shark Boy now...

Graves: Don't even start.


Shark Boy clenches a fist - a symbol of the will to survive. Their faith is rewarded and so doubles. The fans scream SHARK BOY over and over again, a mantra building in momentum more and more as he somehow finds a way back to his feet. Batista hols on as best he can, desperately endeavoring to drag his enemy back to the ground. The Shellraiser won't go.

Firing a violent elbow back into Batista's tummy, Shark Boy is able to loosen the grip. A second shot break the hold completely! He makes the most of his earned freedom and runs for the ropes. The elastic force slingshots the Councilor of Underwater Nomadic Talent straight back at Big Dave, who's ready to drop him with another lariat.

Except this time, Shark Boy launches himself through the air like a friggin cannonball. There's no stopping that. He tackles Batista to the canvas with a Thesz Press, driving him to the pat and then raining down with some brutal ground and pound. The Animal has no choice but to turtle up and weather the storm.


Ranallo: Shark Boy has had his foot to the floor since opening bell - he's bringing some serious intensity here tonight.

Phillips: Winning the King of the Ring gets him right back in line for the UWF Championship and you have to believe that he wants another crack at Seth Rollins.

Graves: Seriously? We've already been there and done that. This promotion couldn't possibly put on a bigger box office attraction than Seth Rollins versus Hollywood Sensation Dave Batista for a world title. I think it's ridiculous that he even has to compete in this tournament - they should have just awarded him the rank of Number One Contender.


Shark Boy keeps on elbowing and punching from a full mount. All Batista can do is scoot himself towards the ropes with his feet, one inch at a time. It takes a minute, but eventually he gets close enough to reach out and grab the bottom cable. The Ref calls for a break and Shark Boy rolls off, taking a few seconds to catch his breath after pouring it all out like that.

Big Dave puts a hand to his face, feeling a swollen nose and a blackened eye. That's the money maker now, and SCSB's gone and messed it up. That makes him angry. Real angry. Really super angry. The Animal gets right back to his feet and runs at Shark Boy while he's also getting up. He drives the Shellraiser into a nearby corner like a linebacker, pinning him against the post and proceeding to ram his shoulder in a few times for good measure.

The whole dang ring shakes with each connection. Of course, the Referee has to step in again. Batista gives on last thrust before stepping away, leaving room for a winded Shark Boy to stumble away from the corner. Once he's out in the open water - the middle of the squared circle - Big Dave blasts him from behind with a running lariat to the back of the head. Shark Boy goes down like an anchor and Batista drops to make a cover...


Phillips: Oh my goodness! That probably gave Shark Boy a concussion!

Graves: It's no Batista Bomb, but that might have done the trick!



1...



2...



No! Shark Boy kicks out at two! Batista stands up and gets right up in the Ref's face, letting him know that in his opinion, that count was slow. The Official stands by it and warns Mister Hollywood Big Shot to show some friggin decorum or he might get disqualified. Dave isn't thrilled about that sass. He clenches a fist. Is he about to swing on the third man? We'll never know on account of Shark Boy crawls up behind him, snags a leg and roll's him up for the pin outta nowhere!




1...



2...



Batista kicks out in time! The Animal catches DMR as he's trying to get vertical and pulls him back to the mat. He wraps him up in like a crucifix but it's also a crossface sorta, plus maybe a Fujiwara. I don't know. Whatever the technical term, he calls it the BATISTA BITE~! and he's got Shark Boy contorted every which way as he looks to end this one with a submission.


Ranallo: There it is folks! The Batista Bite! Yet another dangerous move in the Animal's arsenal.

Graves He threatened to bust this one out in the lead-up to the match. Credit to Big Dave for calling a shot like that - how many superstars can tell you exactly what to prepare for and still execute their game plan?

Phillips: Shark Boy is in deep trouble here...

Graves: ...


Tom is right. Shark Boy is in a world of hurt as the Animal applies pressure to the arm and the neck and the back. There's no free arm to pry the hold off. He's stretched out like a Stu Hart student, biting his shark tongue so as to not give Batista the satisfaction of an anguished cry. Big Dave is yelling at him to tap out, mixing in some unsavory fish slurs best not repeated in polite company. But let's do it anyway: bottom feeder, mother sucker fish, bilge rat, etcetera.

Shark Boy's only hope now is reaching the ropes. He's only a few feet away but it might as well be miles, so heavy is the man atop him and so applied is the submission. Nevertheless, he begins the arduous crawl, the capacity crowd staying with him the whole way. SCSB inches himself closer to sanctuary, pushing as hard as he can with his boots, dragging the full weight of the infamous Bond goon with him. The Referee leans in, asking DMR if he wants to quit. But he won't do it!

Batista yanks harder, doubling down in hopes of snapping some ligaments. Shark Boy's eyes squeeze shut. Even if he won't tap, the pain might shut his brain down. That happens sometimes.


Ranallo: This Son of a Fish is too stubborn to give up! Mama Roll didn't raise no quitter!

Graves: And it might jeopardize his career. The humiliation of admitting defeat versus the possibility of suffering a terrible injury? A better man would have gone with the former. Now Batista is going to rip him apart and hang that mask up in his trophy room right next to his future Academy Award.


Shark Boy lifts a quivering hand - this might be it. He might just tap. The fans plead with him to stick in there just a little longer. Can he?

Yes he can! The Shellraiser shoots that hand out and grabs the bottom rope. Big pop from the people! Batista is furious, and wrenches and wrenches and wrenches and wrenches until the Ref's five count hits four. Big Dave begrudgingly lets go as Shark Boy clings to that lowest cable.

The hero is in bad shape. That one took a lot out of him. Batista stands up, towering over his opponent with a sneer. He reaches down and hauls the C.U.N.T. member up off the mat. Before he can get anything off, though, Shark Boy boots him in the guts, breaking his hold and doubling him over. SCSB then spins around, grabs the head and drops Big Dave with a Chummer!


Ranallo: MAMA MIA! CHUMMER! CHUMMER!

Phillips: Unbelievable! Nobody could sea that coming!

Graves: I swear to God, Phillips...


Batista's head snaps back and the behemoth goes down. Shark Boy sprawls to make a cover but the dazed movie star has either the wherewithal or momentum to avoid getting pinned by rolling under the ropes to the floor below. The fans boo, horrified that Shark Boy's chance to end this one just went down the drain.

The Official starts up a ten count while Shark Boy looks down at his foe, disappointed as all heck. He isn't going to let this one end like that, though. That's not his style. Even with Batista down and out on the floor, Shark Boy goes to collect him, limping as he climbs to the floor on account of the Batista Bite's aftertaste.


Graves: Once again, Shark Boy making the worst decision imaginable. His best chance of beating Batista is to hope The Animal can't beat a ten count, and now he's going to help him do just that.

Phillips: Shark Boy didn't make it this far in his career by sitting around and waiting for wins. He goes out and fights for them. That's why the UWF Universe adores him so much.


With no shortage of effort, the Shellraiser hoists the dead weight of Big Dave up and shoves him back under the ropes, rolling him towards the middle of the ring. Shark Boy then crawls in after him just as the Ref hits a seven count. He calls for the third man to come count the pin as he sprawls and hooks the leg...



1...



2...



Batista kicks out at two!


Ranallo: The Chummer is as lethal a movie as anyone on this roster possesses, the cover just came too late.

Phillips: Shark Boy is still looking pretty beat up from that Batista Bite being applied for so long - does he have what it takes to nail one more big move?


The masked superstar seems to think he does. It takes him a moment to get vertical again, but once he does, he rallies the fans around him with some enthusiastic fist pumping. With the people cheering him on, Shark Boy pulls Batista up, thinking about a second Chummer.

Big Dave shuts that down ASAP with a humongous knee right into the solarplexus. Shark Boy is winded like a fish out of water. Batista shakes the cobwebs then tucks his opponent's head, lifts him up, and prepares to execute his favouritest finisher.


Graves: Batista Bomb incoming!

Phillips: More like a Box Office Bomb, am I right?

Graves: Shut the hell up, Phillips! Batista is about to show the world that he's still -


Before Graves can even finish that thought, Shark Boy counters the powerbomb with some Kidman-esque maneuvering, busting a out a rana to flip Batista over and pin him to the mat. Shark Boy reaches back and fish hooks both legs for a deep cover while the Referee makes the count...



1...



2...



3...



DING DING




YOUR WINNER
ADVANCING TO THE KING OF THE RING FINALS...
SHARK BOY!


Shark Boy slips off Batista and stands to have his hand raised while a flustered Batista rolls out of the ring to the floor, staring up through the ropes with a bewildered expression. He can't believe his eyes, but the fans? They never doubted their boy for one second. The place comes unglued as the Toadies hit the PA and SCSB celebrates with some cold ones.


Phillips: And just like that, Shark Boy gets the win, fighting through some serious adversity to pull a pin out of of the JAWS of defeat.

Graves: Who's throwing those beers? Hey! Give me one. This jackass is driving me to drink.

Ranallo: A massive victory for Shark Boy who is showing no signs of losing momentum even after losing to Seth Rollins at Backlash.

Phillips: This has to be a disappointing loss for Batista, who will be missing out on the winner's purse that comes becoming the King of the Ring. We'll have to wait and see if he'll be sticking around for the summer or another big blockbuster will come calling for his talents.


Shark Boy continues to celebrate while Batista storms up the ramp, flipping off the fans as he goes. Revolution continues elsewhere.




We head backstage where we see a rare appearance from Austin Theory. Standing alone, facing off towards the camera lens.



Austin Theory: Bet you weren’t expecting to hear from me. I’ve been about, I’ve been working. Not everything needs to be under a microscope, and why the hell would I want to share my life with you filthy people. Coming to shows like these for blood, a real fight, the sideshow acts.

The relentless need to flex their balls on the table so everyone can see how tough they are, how cool, how cutting edge. But it’s been done a million times already. Hardcore icons are icons because they SHOULD be left behind. I face Homicide tonight and if you’ve ever heard the guy run his mouth, he reckons himself as one.

I ask though what’s the appeal in buying a ticket to see guys like that? Actually being excited to see someone covered in scars from past battles with crowds who they thought was worth it. It’s a crowd pleaser point of view and I don’t need to please anyone but myself.

He steps inwards to the camera taking up most of the shot, film addicts are shitting and throwing up at this overbearing closeness.

These people ruining this sport in the name of a hardcore eye make me sick. As an athlete, a red blooded human being, I won’t stand by to watch people like this make a mockery of the great sport we have. It’ll never work, and it never has-

??
"I'm better than everyone else here and I don't need to prove myself, blah blah fuckin' blah."

The camera pans from Theory to his left to show Dean Ambrose sizing the self-proclaimed athlete up.



DEAN AMBROSE
You know, that's not such a bad line when you've got the experience and achievements under your belt to back it up but the last time I checked you don't have either of those, kid. You want to know why the hardcore legends keep coming back and crowding up the show? It's because the new blood like you and your peers, you just aren't cutting it anymore.

Ambrose starts pacing, his footfalls lining up in a rhythm with his words as he gets talking.

Everyone knows the professional wrestling business is in decline and it's no secret that it's in that mess because of the new kids on the block. The fact of the matter is, while you all like to call yourselves athletes and performers, you couldn't hold a candle to any one of us supposedly washed-up veterans. Don't get me wrong: I don't have any love lost for Homicide. The guy's a total lunatic and even in my heyday he couldn't hold a candle to me. But he's still about a mile ahead of you in the race of life, bub.

Ambrose chuckles, then approaches Theory.

That said. It so happens that after I dropped my King of the Ring contest last week, ol' Ambrose was left without a dance partner. Orton might think he's the right guy for the job but he'll be lucky to still be in one piece when I'm done with him tonight. Nah, you and me, Austin – I think that'd make a damn fine showcase. Either for your "superior athletic ability" or my primal savagery. I'll go talk to the boss and make it happen. You should start writing a will or something, put your affairs in order. Nahmean?

With that, the former world champion stalks off to Carter's office.




The camera would cut to the commentary booth.





Mauro Ranallo: Last week on UWF Revolution we held four triple threat qualifiers to decide who would continue on in King of the Ring. Edge won his triple threat by pinning Trevor Lee but also in that match was current Intercontinental Champion, Tommaso Ciampa, who missed out on his chance to proceed.



Tom Phillips: That’s right Ciampa vowed to win the match but was left short in the end, with Danhausen continuing on, you have to think what's next for Ciampa as with Danhausen holding that prime time medal, he is currently occupied.



Corey Graves: Well Ciampa was rightfully annoyed last week and to my knowledge left without saying much and tonight well…..



Before Corey could continue, Psycho Killer would play over the sound system as the crowd once again breaks into a half cheer, half boo concourse. Ciampa and Wardlow would walk out, Ciampa already having a mic in his right hand and the Intercontinental Championship slung over his left shoulder. Getting to the ring, Wardlow would enter first and Ciampa would hand him Goldie, Wardlow would hold it into the air and hand it off to Ciampa when he got in the ring.



Ciampa: Ladies and Gentlemen, last week…. I failed. I was so close to winning that triple threat but if not for Trevor Lee refusing to just stay down and know whats best for him, he tried to mess with the big dogs and it cost him and more importantly me, a spot in King of the Ring and another meeting with Seth Rollins, trust me Seth that’s coming down the line. You may have escaped me now kid but give it time.





The crowd would boo and cheer again, not liking Ciampa’s disparaging comments of Lee but also looking forward to another meeting between Ciampa and Seth.



Ciampa: So while Seth is waiting to see who’s going to face him again, I too am left with a quandary of who i’m going to face. I know you’re all thinking that it’s obviously Danhausen and while he will get his shot in the future, that’s if he keeps that medal of his, past couple of people seem to be playing hot potato with it, for now i’m left with no challengers. A champion without anyone to face. Sure there may be people worthy of a shot eventually but for now i’ve cleared everyone who could be seen as a worthy challenger.



The boos would start to outweigh the cheers now, the crowd getting louder.



Ciampa: I know people don’t like to hear it but its the facts, the Intercontinental Championship division is bereft of people worthy to face me, i’ve beat them all: Seth, Shinsuke, Homicide. The men you think of when you think of this division, i’ve beat them all and nobody is taking this title off me anytime soon but if anyone wants to step up to the plate and get knocked down be my…..



Ciampa is cut off by a familiar theme playing over the speakers.




Homicide by LL Cool J is the theme as it blares in the background out comes the Notorious 187 Homicide with Dan Lambert following in toe and Homicide has a microphone as he stands on the ramp and Homicide begins speaking



Homicide: Hey Goofy don't worry you ain't going to wait long to find out who you're next contender because I ain't done with you yet.

The fans cheer and Homicide and Lambert stand near the middle of the ramp and Homicide continues to speak.

Homicide: You stole that win from me. I'm the one who took out Shinsuke Nakamura. I'm the one who did all the work and like the weasel you are you took that win away from me. I did all that work to finish him off not you. Well now there is no more ABC's. It is just me and you Mano y Mano. So I like to formally say I'm next as the challenger for the Intercontinental Championship. You say you have beaten me but my shoulders have not been pinned on that mat when you're defending that belt against me. You don't have fake Vampiro to face he trying to win the King of the Ring. You only have one man who can truly be the contender for you, and that man is me. So Goofy what do you say? Want to face me one or one? Wanna show me why you one of the big dogs here in the UWF? Orrrrr are nothing but a chicken.

Fans give a mix reaction as Homicide continues to speak

Homicide: Are you afraid to face a man you never defended that belt against one on one? I mean I get it if you wann be a lesser man than me. Just cause you have 18 pounds of gold over your shoulder doesn't make you more of a man. The way you win ain't something to be proud of. It's what Chickens do, and Dan let me ask you mi amigo. What happens to chickens?

Dan Lambert: Well Homicide Chickens get couped up and fed to us winners. We need all the proper protein needed to whip that ass. Tomasso Ciampa in another world I may respect you. I may say you were smart doing what you did to keep that title over your shoulder, but really to be honest you're one of the biggest idiots I have seen. You pissed off 5150. You pissed off the Notorious 187. You pissed off my client Homicide. You think that is smart. You think you pulled a fast one? Well sorry bucko all you did was piss off the former UWF Ironman Champion, and the former UWF International champion. You pissed off a man who was willing to give up everything to call himself a champion. So you may think you erased the name Homicide from your list of challengers but in reality Ciampa you assumed to early that you were done with my client. You will see Homicide very soon champ.

Homicide: And look once again I understand if you say no Ciampa. But if you want to prove to me your a man like me you won't say no.

Homicide and and Lambert look on at the champion.

After Homicide is finished talking, Ciampa would look down at Goldie and then look out to the crowd. There’s electricity in the air as Ciampa thinks about the gauntlet thrown down in front of him.





Ciampa: You know Homicide, you make a good point for once. I didn’t pin you, I pinned Shinsuke. I took advantage of your lack of focus and now you’re going about questioning the type of champion I am. Usually with that lack of respect, people don’t last long round me but for you i’m willing to make an exception.



The crowd would burst into cheers.



Ciampa: You want me to prove i’m a man like you, i’ll do it and i’ll prove that i’m ten times the champion and man you are at the same time, because I don’t need to hide behind petty excuses. I accept your challenge Homicide and once and for all, i’ll put you down like the mad pitbull you are and once I do you can stop wasting my time and maybe Dan Lamberts as well, your time’s dead and gone Homicide, time to show you why.



With that Ciampa would get out the ring, Wardlow following behind, walking up the ramp and exiting.



Mauro Ranallo: Well there we have it folks, Tommaso Ciampa has accepted the challenge of Homicide, once again wanting to prove he is the A-Champion in the UWF.



Tom Phillips: Homicide raised some good points but so did Ciampa I guess this one will be decide….. OH MY GOD.



The camera cuts back to Ciampa and Wardlow rushing Homicide and Lambert as they prepare to leave. Ciampa hits Homicide with Goldie and Wardlow hits Lambert with a vicious Lariat, Ciampa would crouch next to Homicide and pick up his mic.



Ciampa: Take a good look Homicide, this is as close as you’re ever going to get to being Intercontinental Champion, this is my title and if what i’ve done here isn’t enough of a message, maybe this is.



Ciampa would look up and nod at Wardlow, the mountain of a man would pick up Lambert and deliver a devastating powerbomb onto the stage, the pair would then be pushed back by security who would check on Lambert but Ciampa and Wardlow would leave of their own accord, the camera focuses on Homicide and Lambert as we fade to commercial.




The scene opens with Randy Orton smoking a cigarette as he blows some smoke out and he begins to speak.

Well, tonight is the day I faced Dean Ambrose. I give credit to the fact that we both have achieved so much in our lives. But now is the future and what comes from the past stays in the past. Dean, you and I have been wrestling here in UWF for an extremely long time. But now, you seem to have returned from the dead and try to head back to your winning ways. But unfortunately, you have struck a fork in your road to earning any title shot at any championships here in UWF. As you see, you are facing no ordinary man tonight. No, you are facing the Grim Reaper himself. The man who decides your fate. And whatever I choose, your fate lies within me. You may think you got the upper hand just because you got a whole lot fighting in the dirty streets. I hate to break it to you Dean. It won't happen to me tonight. Not only will you fall down and end up being defeated. I am going to destroy you physically and mentally that every time you try to get back to your winning ways. You will only go one path and that path will lead to failure. And you will have no choice but to thank me for that because not only I will make you go back to retirement. I will make sure nobody here remembers anything memorable about your return to UWF.

I promise you that everything that you have worked for will be put down the drain and you will always be remembered as the guy who got slayed by the Viper. Nobody will ever remember who you are after the destruction that I will lay out on you. You will be nothing but an afterthought when I am done with you. As for me. I will continue to move on to become one of the greatest UWF TV Champions in history. Not only that, I will move on to win other championships as well while you will be dug up in your grave and buried in the dirt. I will shine brighter than ever while you will just be another bloody corpse when I burn you alive and get rid of you. Dean, you will just become another bloody victim when your fate is sealed tonight in the Street Fight. When I am done getting rid of you, I will move on to Trevor Lee and set my sights on him. I honestly hope you watch Trevor because the amount of pain and suffering that I will inflict on Ambrose will be just a taste of what is to come for you. So you better be extremely well prepared because I will come faster than a speeding bullet and you will not know what hits you. So beware Trevor, you may enjoy living out your fantasy dreams as a mayor of Hicksville. But when we meet face to face, the games are over. Your time will be up and it will be time for you to pay your dues to the Devil himself.

Once I am done showing you how much of a joke you are, I will send your country boy ass back to Hicksville in a bloody mess and showing your role as so-called Mayor comes to an end. By the end of the match, nobody will remember you as their favorite mayor of Hicksville. They will only remember you as a fake disgusting piece of garbage who pretends to be a mayor of Hicksville and gets his ass killed by the Viper himself. Tonight, your fate is doom while my destruction has just risen. I shall reclaim the throne that belongs to me and be crown as the rightful King. Then I will lay out a path of destruction with dead corpses and blood covering in the dead. Everyone will remember the name of the Devil......Randy Orton.

The scene fades and ends with Randy Orton laughing.





Chimel: The following contest is set for one-fall!



P      X
U X
X N
X     K


The Big X ignites the titantron while "Baba O'Riley" blasts through the speakers, strobes flashing to match the spastic, rolling synth loop. CM Punk bursts out on to the ramp when the piano kicks in. That harmonized energy is infectious for the capacity crowd. The fans are on their feet and cheering as Punk takes a knee on the ramp to check his wrist...



It's Clobberin' Time! The Second City Saint marches down the ramp, ready for a fight.

Chimel: Making his way to the ring from Chicago, Illinois... weighing in at 218 pounds... CM PUNK!

Punk scales the steel steps and climbs the turnbuckle. He stands perched with one foot on the middle rope and one on the tope, hand to eyebrow as he surveys the audience. The song breaks for that famous chorus line, which the crowd joyfully sings along with. When the guitar kicks back in, Brooks flings himself over the top rope to enter the squared circle. He claps Tony on the shoulder as he passes by, making his rounds in the ring while preparing for the match ahead.




"You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive" by the Ruby Friedman Orchestra begins to play throughout the arena... and keeps playing... and keeps playing... and still no sign of Trevor Lee. Punk, Tony, and the Official all exchanged confused glances. About thirty seconds pass and Lee has yet to step through the curtain.


Graves: Not like Trevor Lee to keep the competition waiting...

Phillips: No indeed. I wonder what -

Ranallo: Apologies for the interruption, Tom, but I'm just getting word from the production truck that we have some breaking footage from backstage! We'll take you there now!


The titantron switches from Trevor's entrance package to a video stream from somewhere backstage. It appears to be just outside Gorilla position. Randy Orton is towering over Trevor Lee. The Viper is holding a steel pipe and the Number One Contender for his UWF Television Championship is lying there beat up and bruised and bloodied. The fans quickly put two and two together.

Randy looks up from his dirty work and sees the camera watching him. He cracks a sadistic smirk before dropping the pipe next to Lee and walking away from the scene without a second thought. Medic personnel rush over to attend to Lee while Orton heads off in the other direction.


Phillips: Oh my goodness! It looks like Randy Orton just laid out Trevor Lee with lead pipe!

Graves: Suffice it to say I don't think Lee is in any shape to compete tonight.


Punk is watching this all play out from the ring. He shakes his head, frustrated to see yet another match derailed by heinous shenanigans, even if he's not the one on the receiving end this time. He turns to say something to the Official, but just as he does, El Generico slides into the ring from the back and rushes at him.


Ranallo: Mama Mia! Is that El Generico?

Phillips: If Generico's out here then that must mean -


Tom's train of thought is right on track. Sure enough, La Luchadora comes outta nowhere, too. While Punk is duking it out with the Pale Luchador, Luchadora creeps up from behind and low blows him. The Straight Edge Superstar drops to his knees, grimacing in agony. Boos. So many boos at the injustice. The capacity crowd is just pouring out the vitriol on El Duo Dynamico as Luchadora yanks Punk to his feet to feed him to her partner.

Generico looks to be a little shorter and in worse shape than fans my remember, but Luchadora's right there to help him get the Second City Saint hoisted into the air so he can execute a dag nasty BRAINBUSTAH~! that pretty much KO's Brooks. Once he's down for the count, Sami Zayn comes strolling down the ramp, cracking his knuckles like he's ready for a big fight.


Ranallo: This is damn mugging! CM Punk has been ganged up on by Sami Zayn's band of low life's. It's like Zayn has made it his life's mission to ruin CM Punk's career.

Graves: Wow, talk about a skewed perspective. This is just deserts for Punk - last week he practically cost Sami his first world championship. You're gonna tell me that a guy who never shuts up about being born in raised on the wrong side of Chi-town can't handle playground rules? Give me a break.

Phillips: Just like at Backlash, Sami is happy to have his goons do all the heavy lifting before he makes his big play.

Graves: Well maybe if Punk were a nicer guy, he'd have some friends to watch his back, too.


Zayn climbs through the ropes. He tells Luchadora and Generico to hang Punk up in the corner, which they do, draping his arms over the ropes to leave him hanging against the turnbuckle. Sami backs up so he can build some serious speed before bolting across the canvas to blast the Straight Edge Superstar with a Helluva Kick! His boot cracks right into Punk's jaw and drops him like a sack of potatoes.


Ranallo: Oooof! What a Helluva Kick! Whatever bad blood there is between Zayn and Punk, they clearly didn't settle it last week.

Graves: This isn't tit-for-tat, Mauro. Sami Zayn is the guy who single-handedly ran the nWo and Sweet n' Sour Inc. out of this company. He's not gonna stop until Punk is gone, trust me.

Phillips: First Orton blind-siding Lee, now this. This unsanctioned violence is getting out of hand.


While the fans continue to boo, a gaggle of security thugs and agents rush out from the back to break things up. But the damage is already done. Sami leads his accomplices out of the ring and up the ramp, ignoring the dirty looks from the posse sent in to help as they pass them by. Punk is left unconscious in the ring as Revolution continues elsewhere.




The scene opens up to Renee Young staring into a camera.



Renee Young: Good evening UWF audience and viewers at home. I am with the biggest manager of the year and Roman Reigns. We are currently awaiting for the arrival of the one and only UWF Champion: Seth Rollins. But until he arrives, we can start this interview for the time being. Paul—Roman, how are the two of your doing?


Paul adjusts his tie and clears his throat before answering the question.


Paul Heyman: I can’t speak for the two of us, but I am doing splendid! Thank you, Renee, for asking!


Renee Young: and you Roman?


Roman Reigns: I’m as good as ever baby.


Renee Young: Oh, well wait a minute—there’s Seth!


Seth Rollins arrives from the side of the screen and sits in the vacant seat that’s available between Roman Reigns and Paul Heyman.


Renee Young: Thank you for being able to show up tonight, Seth.


Seth Rollins: I appreciate that Renee, but the truth is that you and the rest of the world should be honored by the fact that I would even show up to an interview of this stature.


Renee Young: What exactly do you mean? Showing up for interviews are a contractual obligation.


Seth Rollins: Renee; have you not learned a thing from me since I have become champion?


Renee Young: I don’t think—


Seth Rollins: That’s a rhetorical question Renee! Of course, you have! Let me do a little bit of your job for you Renee. The inner work is more important than the exterior. If you’re truly a believer, then the Universe will open the doors and shine light on the passage way for you to trout across with no obstruction. Those that are afraid or live their lives in sin get reprimanded as the Universe see’s fit. This is a give and take world that we live in Renee—and all of you lower vibrating mortals are only about yourselves and you all wonder why your lives never change.


Let’s look at last week shall we. Could you do me favor and remind the world of what happened last week in the opening match of Revolution 150?




Paul Heyman: I’ll do you one better! I’ll remind the world of what happened! My client rose to the occasion again and crushed Sami Zayn! My client—the hottest commodity in the entire sports entertainment business proved once again why he is the Alpha Omega of this company and in this industry worldwide. My client is like the shampoo: head and shoulders—because he’s head shoulders above the rest of the competition. He gave his thanks to the universe, and he is consistently getting reimbursed for his duties.


Seth Rollins: I hope that makes sense Renee. You can do all the training that you want, but if the inner spirit isn’t right within—you’ll never get ahead. Sami Zayn learned it the heard way. Shark Boy learned it the hard way. And CM Punk learned it on the biggest stage of them all. That’s all the life is about baby awakening your true power and the inner God inside of you. Reaching your truest potential and the highest version of yourself—rising to the occasion like I do every single night. I’m the mountain top for a reason Renee. I’m the superhero you the world is too ignorant to understand that they need. I have the tools to change the world and I will be showing that every week.


Renee Young: Speaking of week—we’ve got the KOTR tournament. Any thoughts on who could be coming out as the winner of the tournament to potentially challenge you for the championship later down the line?


Seth Rollins: Renee—there may be a bunch of talented men in the locker room, but it’s clear to me that no matter where the smoke lands—the King of the Ring is Me. Whoever wins will get vanquished by me regardless of any events that may unfold. The winner of the tournament doesn’t concern me because regardless of anything—I’ll always have the edge.


Paul Heyman: My client has spoken, and I hope that the world has been listening to his words and allowing them to resonate at your core. Remember to strive for excellence—and if you are incapable, you can always live vicariously through my client’s success.


Renee Young: Well there you go ladies and gentlemen, and that wraps it up for todays interview.




Tony Chimel: The following match is a Street Fight, that means there are no counts outs and no disqualifications. The only way to win is to pin or submit your opponent in the middle of the ring, apart from that anything goes, introducing first….







"My Own Summer (Shove It)" hits the arena PA and the fans hit their feet. While the man whom this theme represents was always a divisive figure, his return to the UWF ring is hotly anticipated. The cameras key in on the stage as Ambrose's 'tron plays, but he's not there. After a few long, awkward moments, the cameras eventually find Ambrose walking through the crowd.







Tony Chimel: From Cincinnati, Ohio, weighing 224 pounds, Dean AMBROSE!



Ambrose hops the barricade and enters the ring, then pulls off his vest and tosses it to the crowd. He performs some pre-match stretches ahead of the match.



Tony Chimel: And his opponent…..






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!



VS



Before Orton can even enter the ring, Ambrose comes flying through the middle rope with a suicide dive, crashing into the Viper and catching him off guard, Ambrose gets up and yells in victory, pounding his chest, the crowd going wild. Ambrose picks up Orton and throws him into the steps, Orton hitting them back first. Ambrose goes for a running Lariat but Orton manages to trip him up onto the steps, Orton stands up- a bit wobbly on the legs but grabs the apron for support, turning round to a stirring Ambrose he picks him up and goes for a suplex attempt but Ambrose blocks it and turns it round onto Orton, suplexing him onto the steps.



Mauro Ranallo: Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to what i’m sure is going to be a brutal street fight, we have two of the most sadistic men in the UWF today, Dean Ambrose and Randy Orton, fighting it out in this No DQ, No Count Out, anything goes brawl.



Tom Phillips: Only a few minutes in and Ambrose is showing why this type of match is his specialty. He’s been in control for most of this and I don’t see him losing it anytime soon.



Corey Graves: There you go Phillips, every week selling out Orton. Orton is just as sadistic and violent as Ambrose, theres a reason he is the Apex Predator in the UWF.


Back at ringside, Ambrose would be looking for plunder underneath the ring. Throwing in chairs, kendo sticks, trash cans and lids. Ambrose seems to be having a hell of a time but he doesn’t notice Orton slinking away round the side of the ring. It isn’t till Ambrose slides a table in and looks to find his opponent he sees him under the ring on the other side. Going round Ambrose grab Ortons foot and pulls him out but is met by a blast from a fire extinguisher, sending him back into the barricade, Orton charges and hits a knee lift on Ambrose before throwing him into the ring post shoulder first before throwing Ambrose into the ring and grabbing a chair, he goes for a strike but Ambrose rolls out the way and tries for a crossbody and is hit square in the face by Ortons chair, Orton going for a cover



Mauro Ranallo: Orton the first to use some plunder in this match, making use of that fire extinguisher and then a steel chair.



Tom Phillips: One has to wonder why Ambrose would go for a Crossbody there, perhaps expecting Orton wouldn’t have enough time to pop off a chair shot there but clearly that cost him.



Corey Graves: You see this is the difference between Orton and Ambrose, sure Ambrose is master of this sadistic style but he’s a rabid animal, he doesn’t thing, meanwhile Orton is a predator, he makes plans and then executes them.



1..2…kick out



Ambrose gets a shoulder up and Orton immediately goes on the offensive, grabbing a kendo stick he puts it across a seated Ambrose’s neck and pulls back, choking Ambrose, the referee checks to see if he wants to give up but Ambrose shakes his head. Planting a foot Ambrose pushes up but despite hitting some elbows can’t Orton off, knuckling down, Ambrose manages to flip over Orton with a sort of Judo throw, causing Orton to land back first onto a trash can in the ring, Orton crushing it as he lands. Ambrose mounts Orton and wildly delivers the fists and elbows, cutting open the viper and causing the first blood of the match to be spilled, Ambrose gets off him as he goes for a knee lift but Orton pushes him into a corner and charges, Ambrose gets out the way with Orton crashing into the corner, Ambrose hits an elbow on Orton and then a Bulldog onto a pile of chairs, Ambrose goes for a cover.



Mauro Ranallo: This is what happens when you try and back the wild animal into a corner, it gets unleashed and hunts for blood, that’s what Ambrose has done.



Tom Phillips: Orton with the crimson mask on now, the blood spilling from him like a stuck pig. Orton made the mistake of allowing Ambrose time to think with that Kendo Stick choke attempt and he has paid for it.



Corey Graves: Ok maybe Orton did underestimate Ambrose and his alleged tactical genius, Ambrose has got a few lucky hits in, nothing more than that.



1…2….2.5…..KICK OUT.



Orton pushes Ambrose off who doesn’t waste any time in sliding out the ring and looking for more stuff under the ring. He throws a bat into the ring and then smirks as he looks underneath. Its a barbed wire bat and a nondescript burlap sack, Ambrose looks inside the sack and chuckles. Getting back in the ring with the barbed wire bat, he waits for Orton to stand and goes for a swing but Orton is quicker with a Kendo Stick, striking Ambrose in the gut, causing him to drop the barbed bat, Orton strikes Ambrose across the bat over and over until its nothing but splinters and a sharp end, Orton turns Ambrose over and tries to poke his eye out with the sharp end but Ambrose blocks it, Orton instead punching Ambrose in the gut and stabbing him in the forehead with the Kendo Stick instead. Orton gets off the now bleeding Ambrose and goes to set up a table in the corner, propping it up, Orton then walks over to the burlap sack and looks into it but before he can even get the contents out, Ambrose charged him and Orton delivers his signature Powerslam into the table, sending Ambrose through, leaving the sack Orton goes for a cover.



Mauro Ranallo: Orton in control, basically savaging Ambrose with that Kendo stick, turning it into a device of torture, both men have now spilled blood in the name of pride.



Tom Phillips: You got to think if pride is worth it. I get both of these men blames the other for not getting into the next round of king of the ring but is all this worth it in the end.



Corey Graves: SHUT UP PHILLIPS, at the end of the day all a man has is his pride and both of these mens was hurt last week and this week they finally prove who is the better man but I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about pride.



1…2…2.5….KICK OUT.



Ambrose gets his shoulder up to a thunderous cheer from the crowd, Orton argues with the referee, insisting its a three but the referee says it was only two and a half. Orton is pretty angry right now, trying to think of what he could do to keep him down but then Ortons remembers the sack and walks over to it, pouring the contents out its revealed to be a heinous mix of thumb tacks and shattered glass, Orton devilishly smirks as he pours it all out, staring at Dean as he does. Orton looks at Dean and gets on the ground, slamming his fists to prepare for the RKO, Ambrose gets to his feet and Ortons grabs him but Ambrose pushes him off and turns him round and hits a Piledriver onto the glass and tacs, Orton howling in pain, Ambrose runs off the ropes and hits a Curb Stomp onto Orton, pushing more glass and tacs into Orton, Ambrose goes for the cover,



1….2….3….



Tony Chimel: Your winner of this Street Fight….. DEAN AMBROSE.





The referee lifts up Ambrose’s arm who falls to one knee from exhaustion but eventually makes it back to his feet, the crowd cheering in celebration.



Mauro Ranallo: Well ladies and gentlemen what we saw here tonight was nothing short of a war, both these men put each other through hell and only one man came out standing: Dean Ambrose



Tom Phillips: Orton is going to be feeling that in the morning, not only a Piledriver but then a Curb Stomp onto the tacs and glass to seal the damn deal, I mean my god.



Corey Graves: I have to hand it to Ambrose, I thought Orton would outsmart him but I guess if you face an animal in its own territory, its going to win.



The camera would focus on Ambrose one last time as the referee checks on a still prone Orton.




We head backstage where Sami Zayn, La Luchadora and El Generico are huddled around looking at a phone laughing.

Sami Zayn: Did you see the shock on his face when we came in!

Sami burst out into laughter.

Sami Zayn: He was so scared I'm pretty sure he peed his little trunks!

Renee Young: Sami, Sami, can I get a word?



Renee Young comes into frame ready to ask some hard hitting questions.

Sami Zayn: Ah yes my fellow cannuck. What do you want?

Renee Young: Last week we saw you prevent CM Punk from winning the Triple Threat Match to move on in the King of the Ring. Revenge apparently for you getting distracted by him during your world title match and-



Sami Zayn: Revenge apparently? No not revenge Renee, just me setting things right. I earned my chance to fight for the UWF Championship. CM Punk took that away from me. I was simply righting the wrongs. Tonight on the other hand, well you were talking to him when he mentioned me. Something about being the Greasiest, slimiest scumbag. If that's what Punk really thinks of me, then I'll show him a real greasy, slimy scumbag. Losing to me wasn't enough apparently so now, I'm planning on hurting him. That's why i'm officially challenging Punk to a rematch at Final Battle.

Renee Young: Wow you heard it hear first folks, Sami Zayn has challenged CM Punk to anothe-

Sami Zayn: Ah ah, I wasn't finished. You see, if I beat Punk, I know he'll just cry and make another excuse as to why he didn't win. That's something only losers do. So I'm going to make it a bit more definitive this time around. But I don't want him to cry because he didn't get to choose the stipulation so I'm going to give him a chance. I'm sure Punk that you want some revenge after what happened tonight and to be honest, these guys would certainly like to beat you down some more. So how about next week, we have ourselves a little 3 on 3 match. Winner gets to choose the stipulation. Myself and El Dúo Dinámico against you and... two friends.

Sami bust out laughing, Luchadora bends over holding her gut laughing while Generico is literally rolling on the floor laughing.

Sami Zayn: Oh I'm sorry it's just that we know Punk doesn't have any friends. All that crap he pulled as World Champion, nobody's gonna have his back! But if by some miracle he's able to find someone willing to stick their neck out for him, then by all means, we'll be waiting. Now if you don't mind, we got some orphans to feed.

The trio walk off while Zayn can be heard saying "Let's show them that clip!" as the show moves on.




-------- SOMETIMES WE MAKE MISTAKES.

Sometimes we make poor choices, that we regret ever making and we think we are done. We think we are finished. That there is no way back from what you have done, but there is always a way bak. There is always something called, a second change. Fuck a third, forth, a fith. No matter how many times you fuck up. There is always a chance you can come back and that is what is happening right here, right now. Live before your fucking eyes.

“Going to through my hand up here. People were fucking begging me, telling me what a fantastic job I had done. That I had done the impossible and made people proud. That you know what is coming here and now. Twenty fucking years. Slogging trough the shit thrown at me and not once did I stop. Not once dis I give up and throw it all down and walk away, I kept going, kept pushing, kept giving each and every single thing that I had to push ahead and try, always try to be the man people thought that I was, but it was never enough.

Struck out more times that I can even remember. Always wanted to reach the top and each time I did it, I was slapped so hard and kicked from the mountain, back in the shit and the mud that I thought there was no coming back this time, but each and every single time that happened to me. Guess what. I kept coming back stronger and stronger.

Until I wasn’t as strong enough as I thought. I tried, I truly did try and it was not enough for me. As I battled Seth Rollins three times, having my ass handed to be and given one last chance, a make or break thing and I did it. Put that little shit in the dirt and pushed on. Another dance with Cm Punk. another round, boxing with god, ready to knock his fucking lights out and you know what happened. I went all in, no regrets, no bullshit, no bluffing, all the cards on the table and I lost.”

There was a moment. He looked down for a moment and swallowed. He put his career on the line and in the end he lost everything. He came so close, to winning only to fall once more and he kept his word. He left. He did the right thing, he was a man and owed that shit, but here he was now. Enough time has passed. Enough time ha flicked on by that he was ready. He was ready to come back. All these months, sitting and watching. As others would fight in his place, new people coming in. fresh talent and old talent and he had no part in it anymore, fuck that.

“Not going to lie. Missed this shit, missed this place, I had a lot of time to sit back and reflect. On the poor choices that I have made here and elsewhere. How for twenty years I had abused my body. Broken it and healed it with substances, only since coming here and finding myself, did I clean myself up, did I start really, truly leaning into what I was. A washed up fucking loser, with nothing to lose and when you have nothing to lose, how can anyone fucking take something from you and hurt you with it?

I took my own career from myself and I sat there and watched, Seth Rollins and CM Punk, both tear the house fucking down and I knew in my heart, I should have been there, for as many times as we have went at it with one another, we still have blood left in our bodies, not enough has been spilled on the ground, because if anyone thinks I have been sitting around, jerking off this entire time, then you are foolish to even think that. I have been sitting there, here all this time watching. Fucking watching each and every single one of you.
Getting pissed.

Getting fucked off.

Getting back into that dark place that I have gone to before time and time again and months within it, fuck you all. You have no idea how far I have gone, to come back here. How deep I have had to dig and pull at myself to drag myself back up onto my feet to make my return here and I am ready now, ready more than I will ever be to come back here.

To come back for what is mine.

Because i have not come back to jerk of the young stars in the opener. I have not come back to stare at the lights and do what I did last time and just coast through everything, no. I am here for one last fucking run. One last chance, one last moment of glory before I burn myself out.

I am back for everything.

Got a problem with that, then get into the ring and we can settle it right there and then, because your right, I lost my career, but I am taking it back. Only I get to say when I am done and let me tell you…I am not fucking done. Not my a long chance, I still have gas in the tank, I still have some fight within me and fuck anyone who dares try and step in my way, because I will work from the bottom and go all the way to the top once more. No matter how long it takes or who I have to face, I will take it all one.

I will become the world heavyweight champion.

That is the goal, that is the dream, got a problem with it, you know where to find me, each and every single week, in that UWF ring, ready to lay it all down on the line no matter what, your not seeing shit, your not hearing things.



THE MAD KING HAS FUCKING RETURNED TO UWF!”






A slow rumbling bass of Bad With Phones’ “Living & Surfing” hits the PA like a wave rumbling onto the shore as suddenly electronic drums come chopping through like knives to the chagrin of fans in attendance. Austin Theory must shortly be arriving.

1-2,
1-2,
1-2,
ah-ha.



Tony Chimel: On the way to the ring, from McDonough, Georgia, weighing in at 220 lbs, Austin Theory!

He’s here, Austin is in the house, blokes, he’s here. Everyone wishes he wasn’t though, but the smug face of the man of many theories comes through the curtain like a bad reminder, and we’re about to get some bread. This bread. A fight, or something. Wow, look at that, the guys already in the ring from all that talk. What an athlete, so quick, so agile, what a blue chip god, huh? He awaits this one to get underway.



"Homicide" by LL Cool J hits the PA System and out comes the "Notorious 187" Homicide!



Homicide comes out and the fans cheer. Homicide puts the gun signs up and than he fake shoots his pretend guns and makes his way down to the ring as the fans cheer him.

Tony Chimel: Introducing from Cocunut Creek, Florida by way of Brooklyn New York this is the Notorious 187 Homicide!!!

Homicide enters the ring and gets to the top turnbuckle removing his bandana and throwing it to the fans. He throws up a gang sign representing his LAX days. Homicide than jumps down from the turnbuckle and is ready for the fight at hand.

VS


DING DING DING


The bell rings and Theory stays back with a disgusted look on his face. He can't believe he has to sully his hands with homicide yet again but Homicide ain't about to give him too much time to mean mug him. He runs right up to him and starts laying in some forearm Smashes. That perfectly styled hair of Theory's is flying everywhere as he's being rocked by forearm after forearm. The ref counts to 4 and makes Homicide back off but he simply comes back and whips Austin to the other corner. He takes off full steam but Theory gets a boot up to send him back a few paces. Homicide is staggered and so Theory comes forward and hits a picture perfect Dropkick! He makes sure to fix his hair and this allows Homicide to roll out to the apron. Austin walks over and grabs Homicide while leaning over the ropes. He gets him up and Suplex's him back inside. He makes the cover but Homicide kicks out before the ref can even make the 1 count. Theory sits him up and puts him in a classic Chin Lock.


Corey Graves: And look at that. That's that old school pure wrestling mentality that we need back in UWF. None of this crap Homicide does.

Tom Phillips: Don't you praise Ciampa for the same hard hitting style?

Corey Graves: Don't sully our Intercontinental Champion by comparing him with street trash like Homicide. Austin Theory is about to put him in his place.


Homicide grabs at Theory's hands and pulls them apart. Austin retaliates with a knee right to the spine to get him right back into the Chin Lock. Homicide ain't got no time for these games as he simply reaches up and rakes the eyes of the young gun. What a dirty little Mexican. Austin walks away holding his eyes and Homicide grabs him from behind and throws him shoulder first into the steel ring post! He pulls him out of the ropes and picks him up into the Buckle bomb! Theory hits hard and flops face down. The Notorious 187 pulls him away from the ropes to make the pin.



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Theory kicks out! Homicide brings him up and goes to hook both arms. He's looking to kill this gringo already but Theory manages to stands up and send Homicide flying back with a Back Body Drop of sorts except he lands on his front instead of his back. Homicide pops up to his knees holding his chest and theory gives him a Superkick to the jaw! Homicide is laid out and so Austin stands in front of him before delivering a Standing Moonsault! he hooks both legs for a deep cover!



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Homicide kicks out! Theory gets to his feet and brings Homicide up with him, throwing him up onto his shoulders. The former Cartel member realizes what trouble he's in and starts to kick his feet in order to slide off his shoulders. Austin turns around only to get kicked in the gut and knocked down with a Suplex! Homicide however keeps a hold of him and rolls over to hit a second Rolling Suplex. He rolls up once more but this time finished with a Falcon Arrow! He rolls back up to his feet and gives a little Eddie Guerrero taunt.


Corey Graves: Look at this thief, now he's stealing moves.

Mauro Ranallo: It's more of a homage I think.


Homicide exits out onto the apron and climbs to the top rope. Theory lays motionless in the middle of the ring as the notorious 187 gets situated on the top. He comes flying off with a Senton but Theory rolls out of the way and Homicide splashes into the empty pool! He sits up holding his back and tries to get to his feet but he's scooped up by Theory who nails him with a Backbreaker! Homicide arches his back in pain and Theory turns him over and steps over him. He bends down and grabs Homicide's arm, pinning them behind his knees as he fishhooks him to place him in the Why So Theorious!


Corey Graves: This is what his hubris gets him. Now he's going to get tapped out by the superior athlete.

Mauro Ranallo: A win over Homicide could get Theory right back to where he wants to be but a tap out against one of UWF's most infamous men, that's certainly something to write home about.


Homicide lifts his arm like he might tap but instead he reaches into his mouth and grabs at Theory's fingers. They're pulling on his cheeks but he grabs one finger and manages to pull it closer towards the middle and just bites down hard! Theory immediately lets go of the hold and yells out in pain. He walks away holding his finger as Homicide struggles to get to his feet. Theory looks furious and comes over and just straight up decks Homicide in the side of the face! He picks up Homicide and hoists him onto his shoulders. He looks right into camera, gotta make sure every sees his face and goes for the ATL but as he spins our Homicide for the cutter, he slips out and manages to land on his feet. Theory lands flat on his back but rushes to get back up only to eat the Running Flying Knee! The Himbo is knocked unconcious and Homicide makes the pin!



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Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, Homicide!




Mauro Ranallo: And Homicide has just built some much needed momentum heading towards his Intercontinental Championship match.

Corey Graves: Ugh the last thing we need is for that street thug to gain some gold.

Tom Phillips: I don't know, I think it could be kind of fun.

Corey Graves: Trust me Phillips, you weren't here to see the Cartel.


Homicide gets his hand raised but he quickly pulls it away and just heads up the ramp. Despite the win he's still pissed about earlier tonight and heads to the back as the show moves on.




Once again, the titantron switches from the UWF Revolution graphic to a live feed from backstage. This time, it's in the medical bay. CM Punk is shown sitting on a stretcher there, one eye damn near swollen shut, icepack taped to his neck. The lights are dimmed, probably to mitigate concussion symptoms. The Second City Saint is looking off into the mid-distance, expression fixed in that thousand-yard stare. He doesn't acknowledge the camera at first, but eventually begins to speak without every breaking that gaze.




Punk: You push... and you push... and you push...

His words trail off. A few moments of silence before he continues.

Punk: I don't believe in "karma" or "fate"... but I think.... I think there's some wisdom in the old adage "you reap what you sew".

Every action gets its reaction. You can't keep pushing and expect to not have something push back. And not to... not to mix metaphors here, but there's not such thing as a free lunch. These guys like Zayn... Rollins... Batista... Styles and Wyatt before them... a hundred others before that... they think that by playing dirtier than folks with a shred of integrity are willing to, they've found the winning formula in the sport. But you can't screw that many people over or burn that many bridges without having something coming back to haunt you.

Brooks reaches up and wipes away a trickle of blood dripping from his nose.

Punk: So Sami... since this clearly isn't over yet... since we obviously have some unfinished business... lets settle this. Yeah, with your friends, too. They're a part of this now. Let's settle this up. Let's even some odds. I don't have too many friends in this game, but I know I'm not gonna have to look very far to find two guys who hate your guts as much as I hate your guts. That's the nature of the way you do your business, Sami. It all comes back around.

I'm getting too old for the bullshit. Too old to get dropped on my head and kicked in my face. I've got more days in that ring behind me than ahead. I hear people asking if I've got another world title run in me, or if I'll ever win the Rumble, or if that Mania main event was my last one... and honestly, I don't know. But I swear to God, I'm not going anywhere until I've put Sami Zayn down. There's a debt that's been begging to get paid for a long time now and if no else is gonna come collect, I will. And I'm not coming alone.

The Second City Saint reaches back and rips off the ice pack before storming out of the room. A concerned nurse chases after him but there's no stopping Punk now. The feed cuts to black as Revolution continues elsewhere.




The camera cuts backstage where a hooded figure is sitting in front of several monitors all playing different things from UWF.



Are you watching? Are you listening? Are you hurting?

Everyone in the world thinks they do, but they lack the ability to comprehend the nature of doing it correctly. You may see all the programs but you don't observe the nuances of the person that is this larger than life superstar you think them to be. You may hear them talk and boast about their accomplishments, but you don't feel the reverberation in their throat as they hold back tears to put up that tough front. You may feel pain and anguish but do you truly understand the nature of it?

It's okay to miss the little things and details, because all these mistakes and trip ups are human nature. But it's in these small details that I live my life, they are the red flags I see pop up as opportunities that I can use to target someone. So rest assured that someone is truly observant to everything going on, sometimes the world can feel like a lonely place and like you are not noticed. In this era of a camera everywhere at all times being on, people can feel boxed out and unable to shine as brightly with all the shining UWF superstars all around them.

Well there is no need to fear, you can stop looking, you can quit listening, and you don't have to hurt anymore. Because I'm always vigilant, I'm always paying attention, top to bottom and all around you are being studied at all times. All your accolades, all your accomplishments are heralded but trust me when I say that when there's an opening and someone slips up. I'm going to broadcast it, take advantage of it, and change things for the better. So be on  your best behavior, watch everything you do from now on, because if you slip up. There will be retribution for your wrongdoings, and only you will be to blame for it.

The figure snaps their fingers and the screen changes to black before fading on elsewhere.




Suddenly the lights start to darken and flicker...



Cheers begin to ring all around the arena as the music plays and Danhausen takes to the stage. After a couple of slow spins around the stage area, Danhausen then raises his arms and gives out a determined yell as the crowd pops in appreciation.

Tony Chimel
Making his way to the ring, from Someplace Far Away, weighing at least 300lbs, Danhausen!!



Danhausen heads down the ramp, waving politely at some of the fanhausens in attendance before he hops up onto the apron and signals the nearby cameraman to get a close up shot of him. Danhausen then points directly into the camera lens and yells “Love That Danhausen!” before climbing through the middle rope and posing in the center of the ring with his arms held high once again.

YOU THINK YOU KNOW ME


A familiar phrase echoes throughout the arena, leading into the bassline of "Hysteria" by Muse. Smoke fills the stage and before long, a figure walks out from behind the stage into the smoke. No bounding from one side to the other, Edge moves slowly, like a predator taking in his surroundings in order to best pounce on his prey. The crowd is not shy with their disdain for the Ultimate Opportunist, showring him in boos as he stalks down the ramp. Halfway down, he pauses, crouching low, his face contorting as he bares his fangs and in one motion, uncoils upwards, his hands held high with devil horns as pyro explodes behind him.


As the pyro finishes exploding, Edge slowly brings his head back to level and walks towards the ring. Only a few steps away, he runs and slides into the ring and as he moves towards a turnbuckle to pose and soak in more hate and boos, the ring announcer chimes in.

Tony Chimel
Hailing from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, weighing in at 240 pounds. He is the Ultimate Opportunist, Edge!


VS


DING DING DING


Both men stare at each other from across the ring, neither wanting to make the first mistake. Edge has vowed to keep a cool head this time and Danhausen knows it. The two slowly come to the center of the ring, extending their arms out to try and get a grapple going. They interlock hands and Edge uses his size advantage to just pull in Danhausen into a straight right hook! Danhausen falls flat on his ass looking dazed and so Edge picks him up right away and just starts throwing knees before tossing the Prime Time Medal holder to the side.


Tom Phillips: Edge is looking especially cold and calculated here tonight.

Mauro Ranallo: I don't think I've ever seen him just throw some knees but it certainly caught Danhausen off guard.

Corey Graves: I'm just going to say what we're all thinking. Danhausen's win at Backlash was a fluke. Edge is going to prove it here tonight.


Danhausen shakes his head and seems to come back to. Edge is just standing across the ring with a smile on his face, cracking his knuckles. Danhausen uses the ropes to help him get to his feet. He looks at Edge and sort of snarls at him. Edge motions for him to come at him and so Danhausen goes to charge him. Edge lifts his foot up for a Big Boot but Danhausen ducks underneath it, hitting the ropes and coming back with a Crossbody. Danhausen stays on top of Edge and just starts hammering away at his face. Edge tries to cover up and rolls all the way out of the ring to get away. The fans are cheering heavily for Danhausen and he feeds off their energy. He takes off towards the opposite ropes, bouncing off them like he's gonna come back for a suicide dive but instead carefully goes through the ropes and then dives onto Edge!

Danhausen is pleased with himself and brings Edge up to his feet. He goes to throw him back into the ring but Edge gets his hands up on the apron to block it and elbows his opponent in the gut. Danhausen retreats while holding his gut, walking to the corner. Edge takes off full speed but Danhausen side steps him and Edge hits nothing but barricade as he Spears right through it! The fans are shocked, that could've been their favorite getting plowed right through that. Even Danahsuen looks shocked by what just happened.


Mauro Ranallo: Edge just went full steam ahead and bulldozed right through a wall!

Tom Phillips: Only if the bulldozer got completely destroyed. I don't see how Edge can come back from this.


The ref has already reached a count of 4 by the time Edge crashed through the barricade. Danhausen looks at the ring and then to Edge, wondering if he should try the count out win or to toss him back into the ring for the pin. The ref reaches a count of 7 and Danhausen walks over to Edge, picking up his lifeless body and rolls it into the ring. He climbs back in after him and makes the pin!



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But NO! Edge gets the shoulder up in time! Danhausen looks surprised but not deterred. He brings Edge up and hooks his arm around his head. Edge somehow finds the strength to life him up into a Back Body Drop! The Prime Time Medalist sits up holding his lower back while Edge stumbles forward into the corner. Danhausen stands back up and runs at Edge but eats a Back Elbow to the face that staggers him back a few paces. He comes out of the corner but Danhausen goes for a big strike. Edge ducks it and goes behind him, grabbing his head and slamming it down to the mat with the Edge-O-Matic! He goes for the cover!



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Danhausen kicks out! Edge lets out a sigh, still feeling the effects of that Spear. So much so that even though he was on the offensive, Danhausen is quicker to get to his feet. He comes over and kicks Edge in the gut before lifting him onto his shoulders. He's setting up for his version of the GTS but Edge reaches down and rakes his eyes, falling off behind him. Danhausen grabs at his eyes, temporarily blinded. The ref gets on him for this but Edge isn't bothered by it, he's got a breather right now. Danhausen wipes his eyes and turns around only to eat a Big Boot! Danhausen goes down and Edge grabs his legs, stepping through and crossing them. turning him over to place him in the Edgecator!


Corey Graves: Here we go, Danhausen may have gotten lucky with that missed spear, but now he's either got to tap or risk his career.

Mauro Ranallo: Edge knows just all the right spots to torture his opponents. If this doesn't cause a submission, Danhausen will still be at a serious disadvantage when he can't lift Edge up because of his lower back.

Tom Phillips: Let's go Danhausen! You can't let all your fanhausens down!


Danhausen is far from the ropes and with the size advantage, it's hard to move with all of Edge's weight keeping him pinned in place. Danhausen is trying as best he can to get out but he's got no leverage. The ref is asking him if he wants to give up and it looks like he might do just that. He however grabs the ref and pulls him in close to his face. He yells out no and then uses his other arm to reach back between Edge's legs and go up to give him a Low Blow! Edge releases the hold and falls to his side holding his nuts. Very Evil. Danhausen now crawls to the ropes while holding his lower back.


Tom Phillips: YES! He got out of it! Take that Sledge!

Corey Graves: What do you mean Yes? That's a dirty move and he should be disqualified right now!

Mauro Ranallo: The referee can't call what he doesn't see and Danhausen may have got one over on the Ultimate Opportunist right there.


Danhausen is hanging on the ropes as he picks himself up. Edge is doing the same on the other side of the ring, both men holding specific body parts. Edge however looks furious. He walks over gingerly and Danhausen throws a couple of punches to the gut but Edge retaliates with a knee to the gut and a clubbing blow to the lower back. Danhausen falls to his knees, back arched in pain and so Edge grabs his head and pulls him up, lifting him into the Edgecution! He makes the pin!



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Danhausen kicks out! Edge backs away to the corner and kneels down, lying in wait as the man who took the Prime Time Medal from him begins to stir. Edge is practically giddy with excitement as he bounces up and down, ready to strike. Danhausen is up to his feet and turns around only for Edge to come barreling at him. Danhausen goes low at the last second and Dropkicks the knee of Edge causing him to stumble face first into the bottom turnbuckle! It looks like the lights have gone out for Edge and so he exits out of the ring. Danhausen too exits out onto the apron but sees that Edge is standing nearby trying to compose himself. Danhausen comes over and nails him with a kick to the chest. Dancing and singing along to "Tequila" as the crowd does the same. He kicks in Edge's chest to the tune before following up with a last " Dadadadadadada!" Before kicking him square in the face as the crowd chants Danhausen! He hops off the apron and throws Edge back into the ring. He climbs back up and waits as Edge stumbles around like a newborn. He sees Danhausen and runs at him but the Prime Time Medal holder goes low and shoulder blocks him in the gut! edge is hunched over and Danhausen flips over the ropes, twisting and wrapping his arms around Edge to hit a German Suplex! He goes for the pin!



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Edge kicks out! Danhausen picks Edge right on up and hoists him onto his shoulders. Edge once again goes to rake the eyes but Danhausen raises his head and bites at his fingers! Edge squirms in pain and manages to get down and Danhausen lets go only to level Edge with a barrage of forearm smashes to the face. Edge looks dazed but lunges forward with a Headbutt that sends Danhausen reeling. Edge comes up behind him and lifts him onto his shoulders in an electric Chair. Danhausen fights through with stiff rights down onto his head he drops down behind him, putting Edge in a Sleeper! He jumps up and wraps his legs around Edge making it hard for him to reach the ropes. Edge trudges along step by step to get closer to the ropes but he seems to be fading. Danhausen lets go of the hold and decides to make him sleep another way. He picks him back up onto his shoulders and this time nails the Very Nice, Very Kneevil! He goes for the cover!



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Edge kicks out! Danhausen walks over to the corner and grabs the jar of teeth. He holds it up in the air and the fans cheer loudly. Danhausen comes over with the jar and goes to open the lid but something's not right. He trying to twist it but it's not budging. He looks at the ref and hands it to him, telling him to open it. The ref tries but nothing is getting it open. Danhausen asks for a tool of some kind and the ref shakes his head. He tells him to look under the ring as there's usually lots of things down there. The ref reluctantly rolls out of the ring and checks underneath.


Corey Graves: What the hell is this? The ref can't just go and look for weapons in the middle of the match. The teeth shouldn't even be allowed in a wrestling ring!

Mauro Ranallo: As far as I know, teeth aren't a foreign object so they're pretty fair game.


As soon as the ref lifts up the ring skirt to look underneath, Edge blasts Danhausen with a Low Blow! Turnabouts fair play for the Ultimate Opportunist. Danhausen crumbles to his knees and Edge takes the jar of teeth out of his hand. Danhausen looks up to him and sees that Edge is showing him that he somehow got a hold of the jar and glued it shut before the match! Danhausen lifts up his hands to curse him but Edge just blasts him in the face with the jar, smashing it into pieces as glass and teeth go flying about the ring! Edge falls face down facing away from the ref as he gets up to see what just happened. All he sees is glass and teeth scattered about and both men down. Blood is trickling down Danhausen's face and the ref looks ready to call for the bell but then he sees Edge and he's also got a gash on his face. What he doesn't see is the glass shard in his hand that he just used to cut himself open.


Tom Phillips: No way, Edge just might steal this!

Corey Graves: What a high IQ move by Edge! I'm calling it now, this is our new King of the Ring!


The ref isn't sure what happened and so just decides to let it play out. Danhausen takes awhile to stir and you can see Edge do the same, trying to time his movements with the Prime Time Medal holder. Edge gets to his feet just slightly before Danhausen and then waits a couple of seconds for him to turn around before cutting through him with a Spear! Edge hooks both legs for a deep cover!



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Tony Chimel: Here is your winner and advancing to the King of the Ring finals, Edge!




Edge is grinning from ear to ear as turns over, still acting like he's been hurt.


Edge gets his arm raised, the crowd booing uncontrollably as he looks down at his bloodied foe with a smile on his face. The show fades out...



END OF SHOW



Confirmed for Final Battle


King of the Ring Finals
Edge vs Shark Boy


CM Punk vs Sami Zayn


Intercontinental Championship
Tommaso Ciampa(c) vs Homicide


Television Championship
Randy Orton(c) vs Trevor Lee


Credits

Orton vs Ambrose - Gunn
Lee vs Punk, Shark Boy vs Batista - Fauche
Edge vs Danhausen, Theory vs Homicide - Danny

[AndyDNU]

Haven’t left a show comment in a while so apologies, but just wanted to say it’s good to see awesome content still coming out week after week and this was no different.

I enjoyed what was on offer in all of the matches. I liked Gunn’s take on Orton-Ambrose and even though Danny commented on how short the Homicide-Theory bout was I still think it covered what it needed to for progression sakes.

Punk-Zayn is one of my favourite ongoing feuds at the moment and so I was really pleased to see how Fauche and Danny progressed it on both the promo front this week with some fantastic respective efforts and also the melee during the show. Very cool work being done here.

Shout out to all who promo’d this week for some really cool contributions. I had particular enjoyment reading the ones from Batista, Orton, Homicide/Lambert and the interaction between Theory & Ambrose. Also nice to see Eddie Kingston reappearing too!

Speaking of promo’s it appears the one I put together for the show was sadly missed out from the final cut, but it’s fine because I can still use it again next week, although I’ll need to add more to it in light of how the main event turned out, so fair warning that next week’s Danhausen segment might be a lengthy one! Haha.

On the subject of the main event as well, really cool match and happy to have been given another chance to close the show. I loved the thread Swedish and I put together for this one and I am happy to see him pick up the win because he truly worked his ass off for it. I don’t think there’s anything I could have really done differently, it was very much a case of two TT’ers giving their all, but ultimately there can only be one winner and in this instance it was Edge and it’s well deserved.

Nice to see we’ve got a handful of matches confirmed for Final Battle now, looking forward to seeing how the build goes the closer we get to the day of the show.