Post by Danny on Aug 19, 2023 5:31:18 GMT -6
We head to the arena where the 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 and welcome to Revolution! I’m Mauro Ranallo alongside Tom Phillips and former International Champion Corey Graves!
Tom Phillips: Summerlsam is right around the corner and we've got an action packed night in store for you all but first-
Corey Graves: First the coattail rider of Kyle O'Reilly has set up the ring for what I'm sure is going to b the worst segment of the year.
All eyes back on the ring! What's this? The squared circle isn't set for an athletic contest. Not at all! It’s being perverted by what might could be called a talk / variety show set. Sofa cushions. Potted plants. End tables. The works.
In the middle of it, a white door, and on that white, a sign that reads "DING DONG, HELLO!" The camera zooms in on it just as some showbiz jazz fusion hits the PA, and who comes bursting through that door if not The "Good Guy" herself?
DING DONG
Bayley: HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLO~!
The fans give it up for the Doctor of Huganomics, who dressed up all professional for the occasion. Its been a hot minute since she graced the UWF Universe with a live edition of her hit segment, but this? This is a special occasion.
With cue cards in one hand and a microphone in the other, Bayley gets right to work.
Bayley: Hello everybody and welcome to the Ding Dong, Hello Show!
Her high spirits are downright infectious. She was born for this. Move over, Ellen. Kick rocks, Rosie.
Bayley: Folks, its been a hot minute but rest assured we've got the biggest guests and the juciest gos in the game so what I need from you right now is to sit back, kick up your feet and enjoy yourselves because tonight its my absolute pleasure to welcome someone on who is a near and dear friend of the program.
Knowing full well what's coming down the pipe, the fans start to boo but Bayley endeavors to keep them on board.
Bayley: Look, I know he's a controversial figure but we here at the DDHS are all about rolling out the red carpet and sending the welcome wagon down it for anyone and everyone, even if that person looks like Gollum from Lord of the Rings cosplaying as Michael Scott.
Big laugh from the people. Bayley smiles right back and carries on.
Bayley: No but seriously people, we're lucky just to be out here. Ol' stuffy pants Ethan Carter The Third didn't even want to greenlight tonight's program. Given the uh... ahem... well, lets just say that given the historically, uh, "intense" natures of both my step-brother Kyle O'Reilly and the soon-to-not-be UWF Champion Drew McIntyre, boss man was worried that any attempt to promote their upcoming main event at the Biggest Party of the Summer beyond just rolling tape might be a bit too combustible.
But I said to him, I said Ethan, God dammit, the people need to know what's going one behind the scene of the machine. They need to know what's going on in the lives of these two superstars as they prepare for a monumental match-up at Summerslam. And who better to break it all down than yours truly and the sole confidant of one Drew McIntyre?
Name dropping the Champ draws some jeers from the fans, but Bayley stays positive.
Bayley: So, with the guarantee to EC3 that we would keep things civil, I managed to secure a first-timer for the program to give us a Sclusie look into what some are already calling the most important world championship match in company history. Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for him... it's Stonkley Heneway!
Her intentional mispronunciation couple with the talk show host attitude suggest a healthy helping of underlying facetiousness is present for the proceedings. Nevertheless, the invitation is accepted and Stokely Hathaway's music hits the big speakers.
A mixture of confusion and laughter fills the arena as the music begins to play, with half the people wondering if this is actually Hathaway’s entrance theme, and the other half not caring because they’ve seen the funny side. Either way it won’t be a long wait for answers as Bayley’s guest storms out from behind the curtain with microphone in hand and makes straight for the ramp.
Stokely Hathaway: Hey! Shut it down, that ain’t my damn song! I didn’t agree to this, put my real music on!
Either there’s been an unfortunate mixup or someone fancied their hand at pulling a rib, but regardless the man known as The Benefactor appears far from pleased at the situation. As he stands at the foot of the ramp waiting for the music to change, it continues to play on and on with no end in sight. Bayley on the other hand appears to be quite amused by what’s going on, but with no signs of him moving any closer to the ring, she leans over the ropes and off mic shouts on him to get a move on as they haven’t got all night.
Stokely Hathaway: Oh yeah, very funny! Mispronouncing names and the wrong music on full blast. Real professional!
Realizing there’s only one way to make the first part of the nightmare stop, Hathaway sighs and begrudgingly makes his way down the ramp and climbs up the steel steps to enter the ring. To his relief but also annoyance, the music comes to a stop as he stands next to the Ding Dong Hello door frame.
Bayley: Stonkley every-budday!….
The additional welcome from the host doesn’t go down well with the crowd, and Hathaway doesn’t seem too thrilled by it either as he takes a seat and once comfortable, shoots some daggers The Good Guy’s way.
Stokely Hathaway: Lemme guess, you heard my words of wisdom from last week and decided that this was a good way to try and get even?...
Whilst Bayley gives what is effectively a non-committal response by shrugging her shoulders, her amusing facial expressions indicate that she may have indeed had something to do with Stokely's entrance mishap.
Stokely Hathaway: Well it seems clear that there's some pretty selective hearing goin' on in that big ole' airhead of yours, because despite me giving you the sound and sensible advice of staying home for the next couple weeks, taking a rest and putting your feet up so as to not risk that healthcare bill getting out of control, here you are once again playing the role of the 'goof guy' for the amusement of this clueless mob. So before I go down the route of answering whatever mind-numbing questions you have prepared, let me take this time to educate and remind everyone here that at Summerslam, Drew McIntyre, my guy, is gonna beat the living piss outta Kyle O'Reilly, her boy, and walk out of Citi Field still the Ultimate Wrestling Federation Champion! Ohh yeah!!
Hathaway clenches his fist and jabs the air in delight having clearly cheered himself up, but the crowd certainly don't seem to share the same viewpoint and neither does Bayley who is keen to keep her show moving.
Bayley: Oh my goodness! You are a-dor-a-ble, arencha?
Despite Hathaway's trash talk. Bayley's keeping up the facade of the happy-go-lucky daytime television host. She shuffles her queue cards her hand and pivots to her first question.
Bayley: Stokes, can I call ya Stokes? What do your friends call you? Oops! Wait, never mind. That's probably a bit of a sore spot, huh? Well if we were friends, I'd call ya Stokes, so let's just go with that, shall we?
I can see you're eager to talk about Kyle taking on Drew - but there's plenty of time for that later. Right now, me and the Bayliens want to know you - the man behind The Man. Like, geez, you've got a really inspiring story, eh? How does a guy with no discernable talent - one that's admittedly grating and unpleasant and poorly dressed - work his way up from the dregs of managing nobodies on the indy circuit to the fame and fortune of prime time television? Spill the beans, pal - did you have change the light bulb under EC3's desk or something?
The innuendo is graciously lost on the younger audience members. Hathaway catches the drift, though, but before he can verbally retaliate, Bayley sneaks in one more question.
Bayley: Sorry. Pardon me - I didn't mean to cutcha off there but can I just ask what that cologone you're wearing is? What are those notes? Its exotic, isn't it?
She sniffs the air melodramatically.
Bayley: I'm getting... midwest nuclear plant run-off... and...
She wofts in the scent. Agressively.
Bayley: Is that...burnt doll hair? And... just a hint of... mmmm... earwig honey and bone meal. Nice stuff. Very classy. Oh... but you were saying?
She crosses her legs and leans in, chin perched on fist rested on leg like she's a keen listener, whereas he on the other hand is already exhibiting a sense of exhaustion at the situation he now finds himself in.
Stokely Hathaway: Oh, you wanna talk classy? At least I gave you the most brutal and honest assessment that I could without feeling the need to rely heavily on Nickolodeon inspired insults to prove my point. Y’know if I didn’t have an obligation to come out and represent an individual of real significance, then you can believe that the last place I’d wanna be is right here in the presence of what is truly woeful company, surrounded by the cheapest furniture that dolla can buy and a doorway that leads to nowhere yet somehow still manages gets a greater sense of appreciation than I do…
As Hathaway raises a hand to draw attention to the door, his disdain for it is not echoed around the building as the fans cheer and begin a “Ding-Dong” chant because why on Earth not?
Stokely Hathaway: My point exactly! Gone are the days where UWF talk shows actually had a sense of importance and were hosted by people with, you know... actual talent, and as a specially invited guest you actually felt a sense of importance by being a part of proceedings, even if it all ended up going to shit, as was inevitably always the case. So whilst I’m more than happy to stick to the remit and keep things above board, if you were looking to gain some juicy insight into the mind behind the man in the hope that it’ll give the dysfunctional O’Reilly family some sort of edge in the ongoing war, then let me be the first to tell you that this is one head that isn’t for turning.
Hathaway sits back in his chair with a smirk now engulfing his face as he turns his head away, which Bayley is quick to point out and draws the crowds attention to it as the man dubbed ‘Stokes’ appears to have contradicted himself. It takes one moment for him to realize what all the fuss is about before it clicks.
Stokely Hathaway: Not in a literal sense you bunch of jagaloons!… Y’know if the champ wasn’t busy backstage preparing for his match with the juice box guy, the lesser title holder if you will, then I’d be getting him out here in a heartbeat to kick every single one of you into next month and beyond, starting with you ya nepotistic she-devil!
The clear threat is met with a mixture of “oohs” and “boos” as the little man with the very big ego fires back with some apparent fighting talk. Bayley cocks an eyebrow and wags a knowing finger in response.
Bayley: Ah! A bit cheeky, aren't we? I'm not gonna sweat it, because Stokes, despite what you may believe, I didn't bring you here with any kinda sinister plot up my sleeve. There's no ulterior motive to worry about. I can tell you're getting a smidge cranky though - probably a bit past your bedtime and I know that you and Doc and Dopey and the rest of the Seven Dwarves gotta be up at the crack of dawn to hi-ho your way down to the mine. Before I letcha go, though, I got us a little something to commemorate the occasion and kick off the Biggest Party of the Summer early!
She reaches around the side of her chair and produces a bottle of champagne? Maybe? Its some kind of liquor, anyway. If you hadn't noticed already, there are some glasses on the table between host and guest. Bayley pours a few fingers worth of the strangely coloured liquid into each then ditches the bottle back behind the chair. Hathaway is looking at the beverage like its what the cat dragged in.
Stokey Hathaway: What in God's name did you just pour me?
Bayley: Oh this? Its a... aha... lets just say its a special vintage. Only the finest for our guests!
Stokely Hathaway: And you actually expect me to drink this hogwash?
Bayley: Yep. There's your cup right there. That one is yours and this one is mine.
She takes great pains to point out which glass is for who. Suspicious, isn't it? Stokely's expression seems to suggest as much. But he isn't about to let himself get fooled or pranked by this chick. So he flips the script on her. He dawns a look of total and utter surprise and points over Bayley's shoulder.
Stokely Hathaway: Hey! Isn't that your Number One Superfan Izzy? Right there in the front row?
Bayley: Huh?
Bayley turns on a dime, looks furious.
Bayley: YOU OWE ME RESIDUALS YOU CHINTZY LITTLE RIP-OFF BI - hey... wait... where is she?
While Bayley's back was turned, Stokely switched their glasses around, so now the one intended for him is in front of Bayley. Despite the booing audience trying to clue her in, she's none the wiser about the clever ruse.
Stokely Hathaway: My mistake. It must have been someone else. But please, continue.
Bayley: Well I was just about to propose a toast - so here's to our respective fighters. Contender and Champion!
Stokely Hathaway: Champion and contender.
Hathaway corrects and takes a swig, smirking as he sees Bayley do the same out of what he presumes to be a gimmicked glass. She takes a chug and the audience groans. Putting their emptied glasses down, Hathaway bursts out laughing. Only then does Bayley clue in.
Bayley: Hmm. That tasted a little funny. You didn't... oh my gosh, you did, didn't you? YOU SWITCHED THE CUPS!
Stokely can only nod as he howls with laughter. His elatement fades, however, when he notices that not only does Bayley not seem bothered or surprised, she's actually smirking as well. She drops the talkshow host persona in favour of something far more typically her.
Bayley: Stokes... it may be that this clash between Kyle and Drew will be a classic wrestling bout for the ages - one where a legitimate Celtic Warrior faces off against a disciplined practitioner of the mixed martial arts. There could be an honour in that. A prestige, even, to that kinda warfare.
But that ain't me, pal. I'm a real son of a bitch. There are no lengths I won't go to, no bridges I won't burn, no tower too high, no plane that I can't learn how to fly. I'm Scorched Earth personified.
I can tell by the look in your beady little eyes right now that you're wondering if I knew you'd switch the glasses, and that maybe you drank the spiked one after all. Well Stokes, the honest-to-God truth of it is that I couldn't have been sure either way. I didn't mess with either cup. I just gigged the bottle.
Stokely: You... you poisoned me?
Bayley: Us, Stokely. I poisoned us. I told you it was a very special vintage... and ugh...
She starts to sweat profusely. Her hands swell. A small trickle of blood comes from her nose. Stokely panics and stands up, knocking the table over as he begins to exhibit similar systems. Bayley coughs, but keeps smirking as she ellaborates while holding back the urge to puke.
Bayley: See... ach... ugh... I'm confident that Kyle can't get by well enough alone for a few days with me bedridden. But how's - ach - exsuve me - how's Big Mac gonna fare without his precious benefactor in a fit state to be of service.
Stokely picks up the bottle, looking for some hint to what he just dranks. Bayley's eyes begin to puff up. She shakes her head.
Bayley: No ingredients list there, bucko. But its a cocktail, I can tell ya that. Ipecac. Both kinds of bath salts. LSD. Forest mushrooms gathered ignorantly and indiscriminately. Salt water. Snake oil. 7-11-brand cola. All hidden under the wily guise of a few dank liquors from Granna's over-the-fridge cabinet. Bon apetit, you smug bastard! Ahahaha!
There's a Sweeney-esque cadence to her chortle as she collapses off her chair, her sense of balance obliterated. Hathaway rolls under the ropes and stumbles up the ramp, horrified, in search of immediate medical help. As the hallucinations set in, his eyes roll back and his gait becomes directionless and vague. Bayley's laughing is interrupted by an immediate need to vomit into one of the potted plants, at which point the production truck gets a note from the network to smash cut to the next segment. Revolution rolls on!
We cut to the back with Roman Reigns as he is getting ready for his match with LA Knight we see him wrapping his fists and the Wiseman comes in behind him.
Paul Heyman: My Tribal Chief are you ready for tonight.
Roman Reigns stops taping his fists and he lets out a snarl and than smiles as he responds to the Wiseman
Roman Reigns: Am I ready? Wiseman, I think maybe you should go ask my opponent LA Knight if he is ready for me. It’s clear to me when he didn’t confront me in the ring what he did.
Paul Heyman: Well my Tribal Chief it shows how much LA Knight fears you. Look this is your biggest threat for you and the briefcase and he didn’t want to show his face in front of you. He was afraid to go toe to toe with the Tribal Chief.
Roman listens to Heyman but the smile he once had turns into a stern look and he responds.
Roman Reigns: Or… He wanted to disrespect me by not acknowledging me.
Paul Heyman: Excuse me my Tribal Chief?
Roman Reigns: That fool he was everywhere last show. Talking to dudes who aren’t even worth his time. Yet where was he to come to the ring to acknowledge me? This is the disrespect I am talking about. No one should stand up to the Tribal Chief. I go out there on my time to promote our match. I wanted him to do one thing and that was come out and acknowledge me.
Paul Heyman: My Tribal Chief control your anger.
Roman Reigns gets mad at Heyman and steps up to him and Paul Heyman speaks.
Paul Heyman: Listen my Tribal Chief I understand why you felt disrespected but you can’t be losing your cool before a match with LA Knight. You must remained focused and ready for this match. You need to remember if you want him to truly acknowledge you he doesn’t have to just say it you can beat it out of him. Punish him with a spear. Punish him with a superman punch. Make him realize that the only man who runs this game is the Tribal Chief… Ro…man….Reigns. That right there is a fact of life. That right there is the undisputed truth. You can get acknowledgment without them saying it.
An angry Roman goes and he takes a deep breath. He seems to understand what the Wiseman is saying.
Roman Reigns: You’re right the Wiseman. I just had something to say to that man. I wanted him to know what I was trying to say. Though you right I will use this as a message. Because what LA Knight won’t escape is the ass-whooping I will give him. He will learn you can piss off many men in this industry, but you can’t piss off the Tribal Chief. If anything, this isn’t a message to him but a message to all these men in the Money in the Bank.
Paul Heyman: That is right my Tribal Chief remember what you said life is not fair. You’re the one who is on a different level. You’re the one that I returned for. Because you’re the next UWF Champion. Now my Tribal Chief are you ready for not only L…A… Knight but for these people to acknowledge you.
Roman Reigns smiles and he speaks
Roman Reigns: Thank you Wiseman.
Paul Heyman: Of course my Tribal Chief.
Roman Reigns and and Heyman stare at each other as Revolution moves on.
Corey Graves: Ladies and gentleman, it is my honor to have live via satellite, our illustrious Forever Champion, Sami Zayn. Sami how's it going?
Sami Zayn: It's good. Glad to have some with some real unbiased opinions such as yourself to interview me rather than all the chumps they keep trying to get me to speak with.
Corey Graves: Oh it's an honor Sir. Now We were scheduled to talk with Will Ospreay but we haven't heard from him since Wargames where you set him straight. We was going to have an interview last week but well, you had other plans for that.
Sami Zayn: Yeah I was given the week off and you know me, I don't take the easy route. Why would I allow Young Willy to slander my good name when I'm not there? So I laid down the law and made sure that he keeps my name out of his mouth. I gave that boy everything and he just spit in my face. So at Summerslam, I'm going to make it so he never speaks again when his jaw is wired shut courtesy of a Helluva Kick.
Corey Graves: Oh we all can't wait for that. Especially because you'll be named the new #1 contender after that.
Sami Zayn: My first one on one opportunity since Revolution 100. Can you imagine that? My second chance in 4 years.
Corey Graves: It's a travesty. You should have gotten 10 shots by now.
Sami Zayn: Funnily enough, all I need is one and it'll finally happen.
Corey Graves: Now do you care who wins between Drew McIntyre and Kyle O'Reilly.
Sami Zayn: Selfishly, I'd like to put Kyle in his place once again. Can't have him thinking Wargames was actually a success but Drew has been dominant hasn't he? What better way to show the world than knock his teeth down his throat. The man who's been on a rampage just falling at my feet. What better way to ring in my World Championship run.
Corey Graves: Now that's something I'm sure we'd all like to see. Unfortunately we're running a little low on time but it was nice talking to you.
Sami Zayn: You too. You're the best commentator in the game and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
Corey Graves: Hey I just spit facts. It's not our fault that people don't like when they're wrong. But for now let's hear from Chimel as our next contest gets started.
Chimel: The following contest is set for one-fall!
As the arena darkens, a series of strobe lights flicker and flash, creating an electrifying atmosphere. The crowd erupts with anticipation, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Bronson Reed…
Pyrotechnics explode, sending showers of sparks and flames high into the air. The deafening roar of the crowd reaches a crescendo as “Battle Tested” blast throughout the arena, Bronson Reed steps through the curtains, his massive frame radiating intensity.
Chimel: Behold, first, making his way to the ring, hailing from Brisbane, Australia and weighing in at 330 pounds… HE is the titan of terror, the embodiment of fury, the undisputed master of the squared circle, THE COLOSSUS... BRONSON REED!”
Bronson Reed confidently strides down the ramp, his steps feel as if they are shaking the very ground beneath him. His eyes pierce through the smoke, fixated on the ring, as he clenches his fists, ready to unleash his fury.
Bronson Reed ascends the steel steps, entering the ring with an undeniable presence. He removes his jacket as he looks ready to murder his opponent for tonight…
As the music reaches its climax, the lights illuminate the entire arena, revealing an awe-inspiring spectacle. Images of crashing waves and thunderstorms are projected on the screens, symbolizing the destructive force that Bronson Reed embodies.
THE REVOLUTION IS TELEVISED
As Touch the Sky by Kanye West plays over the speaker system, the crowd pops as "Absolute" Ricky Starks confidently struts onto the stage. As the first "Touch the Sky is sung in the song, Ricky grabs his head in his signature taunt as pyro bursts, he then makes his way down to the ring.
Chimel: And his opponent, making his way to the ring, weighing in at 194 pounds from New Orleans, Louisiana, he is "Absolute" Ricky Starks
Making it to the ring, Starks would slide into the ring and climb onto a second turnbuckle, pointing to the sky and looking up, jumping off, Ricky would go to a corner and lie down on top of the ropes waiting for the match to begin.
Tony heads out and after ensuring both competitors are ready to go, the Referee calls for the bell.
VS. 
DING DING
Bronson kicks things off by stomping to the center of the ring. His fingers are flexing in and out but his hands remain at his sides - that guard down, that gaze fixed on his opponent like he's just daring his try to anything. "Absolute" Ricky Starks is cocksure to a fault. Rest assured, he isn't about to turn down a chance to do some showing off.
The Cajun closes the distance, jaw-jacking with some classic you want some of this?'s and I'll show what's up's and things of that ilk. His Colossal opponent remains unfazed, welcoming whatever offense is inbound with arms wide open. Figuratively. As mentioned earlier, his arms are at his sides.
Ricky plants his feet right up and close and personal with his opponent. He leans back, getting his hips spring-loaded. His hand quivers like he just touched something hot. There's a face on his face, which is to say, he's making one of those faces he likes to make before doing one of those things he likes to do. The crowd eats it up like Shrimp Gumbo. They're all in on this attitude of his. A "whooaaaaaaaaaaaaa" builds as he pulls back his hand, gathering tension and sustaining and holding back until finaly... finally he releases!
WHASHA~! Knife-edged chop right across the enormous chest of Bronson Reed - delivered like a cracking bull whip. The fans grimace. Starks shakes off his hand cause that stung it up real good. But when the dust clears? Shoot darn, brother, looks like Big Boy didn't feel a mother lovin' thing.
Phillips: That was one of the nastiest chops I've ever seen and it didn't even register on the Aussie Colossus.
Ranallo: Its like chopping a brick wall, Tom - if the brick wall had a look in its eyes like he wanted to maul you.
Graves: Aren't you supposed to be clever? That's worse than bus stop poetry.
Reed huffs and flares his nostrils, indicating he isn't impressed. Starks has all the telltale signs of someone desperate for validation. Its probably an issue from early childhood. But who's to say? Point is, he's got a hardwired need to show Bronson what's up. Time for Plan B.
Ricky pivots and runs for the ropes as fast as those tanned legs will carry him. Four paces get him to the cables. The rebound effect has him back in Bronson's orbit in three. They collide mightily, with "Absolute" R.S. throwing his weight, a frick tonne of momentum and years of technical prowess into what may well be one of the finer shoulder tackles ever attempted in the UWF ring.
And you'd think that would matter. But it simply doesn't. Reed hardly moves an inch. Maybe a metric inch. What do you call those again? It doesn't matter on account of how negligible it is. Starks looks up from his failed attempt with a "What the heck? Seriously?" kinda expression. Bronson's own visage begs the same question but with an entirely different and supremely condescending inflection.
Ranallo: Starks is going to have to get a bit more creative here or he'll gas himself out just trying to get Reed off of his feet.
Graves: Does that lummox even know there's a match going on right now? Did nobody tell him he's supposed to be wrestling? Does anyone here even speak Australian?
Nar mate. Plan B Part 2 kicks in to gear next with Starks moving around the side of his foe to try for a headlock. Things go from bad to worse for Ricky when he goes from standing to floating. Reed gets out of that headlock by finally moving around a bit and hoisting the guy overhead with a Gorilla Press. Of course there's only one way out from up and that's down because of gravity. Toilets may flush in the other direction in the Southern Hemisphere, but Gorilla Press Slams end the same way no matter where you are on Planet Earth.
Ricky lands ugly and curls up like a sea animal stranded on the beach. Bronson rolls him over with a boot and does that one-foot-on-the-chest-alpha-male kinda pin...
1...
Starks shoves the boot off at one. Bronson doesn't seem surprised. He doesn't seem anything other than confident. Using his other foot, he steps on Ricky's chest again, this time walking right over him. Ouch!
Phillips: Bronson Reed looking all kinds of dominant tonight! With a performance like this, he's gotta be the odds on favourite to walk out of Summerslam with the Prime Time Medal, right?
Ranallo: Hayter's a tough outing, but I'm liking what we're seeing from Reed. Starks, on the other hand, might well now have a few bruised ribs which is an unenviable ailment heading into a ladder match.
Graves: If his luck wasn't bad enough, he's made an enemy out of the Tribal Chief. As far as I'm concerned, that's a dead man walking right there.
Except he isn't walking anywhere! He's splayed on the canvas flatter than a Mardi Gras pancake.
Not for long, though. Bronson - who's classic-big-guy-heelish antics there have actually drawn some heat for the babyface from the Starkaholics out there in S.L.C. - gets back to doing things the honest way. He bends on over and scoops his opponent up off the mat. Looks like he might be looking for a powerslam but that goes to heck in a handbasket when the tenacious Louisianian slips out of his clutches and clips his right chin with a real low dropkick!
Finally, after enacting what must be Plan C or even Plan D, Starks drops the giant to a knee. He's got Bronson grimacing, and that opening is all he ever needed. Starks makes a run for the ropes, comes back at full speed at brings the other guy crashing down into the ring with a legdrop Bulldog!
Phillips: Famous Amos!
Graves: Famous WHAT?
Ranallo: He said "Amos", Corey. "Amos".
Whatever its called, its more than enough to get the Aussie Behemoth on the crowd. Ricky rolls the dude over and hooks a leg to try for the pin...
1...
2...
Reed shoves him off at two!
Starks grits his teeth. He was hoping that would do the trick but in light of it not, he doubles down on the self-belief and gets himself in the zone, pumping up the jams with some head nods to get himself going. Ricky then grabs a headlock and hauls his foe up to a vertical base, only for Bronson to push him away then land a boot to the midsection.
Now that Starks is doubled over, Reed is able to grab some hips and flips him up into Powerbomb position! Not so fast, though, pal! Ricky over-rotates himself and comes tumbling over the back side, gracefully landing on his feet like a cat. Bronson turns around, also like a cat (sometimes). What's there waiting for him? You guessed it!
Ranallo: Superkick from Starks!
Phillips: Reed could be out on his feet!
Bronson's seeing stars like he's looking at his country's flag. He hasn't fallen over yet, mind you, but Starks knows just what to do about that. The Cajun fella grabs himself a front headlock and holds on tight as he runs up the nearest ropes, pushing off and twirling around to annihilate Bronson with a DDT! Head marries mat with an outrageous thud! Ricky sprawls and shoots the half to put him away...
1...
2...
No! Reed kicks out just in the knick out time! The crowd gasps! Ricky shakes his head defiantly! He's so close he can taste it! Like a cat!
Starks gets up again, taking some deep breaths while his fans chant his name. He endeavours to pull Bronson to his feet but can only get him about halfway cause he's carrying mostly-dead weight. Alas, he's forced to leave the guy kneeling. He figures that oughta be enough for a Spear anyway, right?
The Official isn't so sure this thing should even continue is Reed can't properly function, but Ricky isn't about to wait around. While the third man is pre-occupied with his medical evaluation of a cobweb'd Colossus, "Absolute" R.S. makes a dash for the ropes. It'd be enough to charge up that patented Spear of his, too, except here's the thing - somebody grabs his ankles and trips him up!
Ranallo: What in the name of -
Graves: It's Solo Sikoa! Ha!
It is Solo Sikoa! Roman Reigns' enforcer is out here to cause trouble and trouble he causes. He tripping attempt is a perfect success as it sends Starks stumbling off-kilter and sans balance back towards Reed, who has just enough wherewithal to turn him inside out with a monstrous lariat.
The crowd is booing but Bronson is too dazed and desperate to worry about why, and by the time the Official has his head in the game again, Solo's hightailing it through the stands.
Bronson rolls his opponent towards the corner so he can scale the ropes and coming down with all the force of a friggin Tsunami. His humongous splash hits flush and that'll do 'er, bud.
1...
2...
3...
DING DING
YOUR WINNER...
BRONSON REED!
Oooooh, bit of a mixie for that one. Bit of a mixie indeed. Bronson's a popular guy, but the fans ain't none too keen about that Solo interference. Fair to say Reed wasn't aware of it. But still. But still.
Ranallo: After encountering some difficulty early on with the size disadvantage, Ricky Starks was well on his way to a victory over the Colossus until Roman Reigns' Enforcer got involved.
Phillips: You had better believe that Ricky will be looking for some payback at Summerslam when he and the Tribal Chief will be in the Money in the Bank Ladder Match!
Ranallo; Reed, meanwhile, will riding a Tsunami of momentum into the Biggest Party of the Summer where he'll tangle with Jaime Hayter in a Falls Count Anywhere Match for the vacant Prime Time Medal.
After having his hand raised, Reed heads up the ramp, his music blaring over the PA. Starks eventually sits up in the ring, glaring daggers out towards where Solo is watching from a safe distance. There's some bad blood there, no doubt about. Nevertheless, Revolution rolls on!
Revolution has been everything you have expected it to be and even more. The crowd are buzzing, the superstars are buzzing, just buzzing all around the place. The scene fades to black, leaving everything in darkness before the titantron and tv screens flash back into life. The crowd are greeted by a familiar face that hasn't been seen around these parts for a while....it's the DUCHESS OF DUDLEYVILLE, STACY KEIBLER. She has her leg up on a moving crate and rubbing some oil on her legs.
She looks over, realizing the camera is there as she stops rubbing. She doesn't have the normal smile she has on her face...instead a snarl as she doesn't seem impressed.
Stacy Keibler: Good Evening to all of Spikey's Nieces and Nephews. Welcome to another edition of Revolution. Now I'm here getting ready for my Spikey's match later on tonight with the Shark. What Sharkie has coming to him tonight isn't all of his fault. Yes, Sharkie decided to run his toothy mouth and swim into swallow waters by disrespecting my Spikey but Sharkie isn't all to blame for the culling his getting tonight. Sharkie is just one of many men that will be reminded of what my Spikey can do at Summerslam....least of all Spikey himself but tonight, he gets a taste that is specially served for him. A special dish of Chum made special with love from Dudleyville.
Stacy motions a pan spinning around in a pot. She still has the snarl on her face as she continues.
Stacy Keibler: Oh, isn't it just so exciting to finally see the Shark get exactly what he deserves but one man that will have to wait is L.A. Knight. The man that loves to run his mouth, the man that has so much to say all the time....I'm sure we might see him a few times tonight....much to everyone's dismay but last week when little old me wanted to talk to him....he flat out refused and ran away. His name dropped me in the past but hey...maybe his all talk. Maybe he realised that Stacy Keibler is just a whole lotta women.....too much women for the likes of him so I'm not surprised he took the Boy that Sharkie dropped and brought it to himself. Now Knight, I see Bayley already taught you a lesson in the past and it seems when you involve women...it doesn't end well for you so I'm here to tell you that nothing will be different this time. You disrespected me last week. I don't take disrespect lightly so what you have won is The Duchess of Dudleyville making sure that Spikey knows that winning the Money in the Bank is the main objective at Summerslam but if somehow, he can't get that done.....well all he needs to do to make me happy is make sure you don't climb that ladder and retrieve the briefcase....and if you doubt this will happen......doubt no longer because that has come straight from the HANCOCK'S MOUTH.
Stacy stares down the camera, snarling still as the camera blacks out to somewhere else in the arena.
Corey Graves: I bet you’re looking forward to this next segment, Tom. Earlier this week, Warhorse invited number one fan Tom Phillips to his house to interview him. Like the vain loser he is.
Mauro Ranallo: Corey, don’t ruin this for him!
Tom Phillips: Well, someone else did already. Anyway, roll the footage.
We cut to a new scene, pre-recorded.
We see Tom Phillips walking down Warhorse’s driveway, dressed for an occasion formally. He looks giddy, almost in his own world. He walks up to his door and rings the bell.
BUUU-
Phillips stalls around waiting for an answer. He doesn’t make eye contact with the camera as there’s a level of nerves there.
Warhorse opens up the door.
WARHORSE: TOM. CREW. COME THROUGH.
Warhorse walks back from the door to allow both Tom and the cameraman to come in.
We cut to see the two of them sitting down set up in a proper interview situation. Lighting, multicam, the works.
Tom Phillips: WARHORSE. Hello.
WARHORSE: HEY TOM.
Tom Phillips: Two weeks ago, you were announced for the Money In The Bank match. A match that gives you a good chance at becoming the next UWF Champion. Are you looking forward to this match?
WARHORSE: WHO WOULDN’T BE TOM. EVERYONE WANTS TO BE THE BIG CHAMP. EVERYONE WANTS TO LIFT THE BELT. EVERYONE WANTS TO BE THE BIGGEST DOG THIS COMPANY HAS TO OFFER. WELL, I FEEL IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME COMING FOR ME TO BE IN ANOTHER ONE OF THESE MATCHES.
I REMEMBER THE LAST TIME I WAS IN ONE OF THESE. I REMEMBER MINORU SUZUKI HITTING ME IN THE BALLS AND WALKING AWAY WITH THE BRIEFCASE. THEN BECOMING CHAMP.
EVERY PART OF ME FEELS A COLD SWEAT THINKING OF HOW I COULD’VE BEEN CHAMP BACK THEN. BACK IN MY FIRST RUN. SO WHAT HAPPENED? I DON’T REALLY KNOW. IT’S WHATEVER. BROTHER, THERE’S ALWAYS ANOTHER DAY AND THAT DAY WILL COME. IF IT’S AT SUMMERSLAM, THAT’D BE GREAT.
Tom Phillips: We all hope that’s so. Have you thought of a strategy going into it?
WARHORSE: HAVEN’T GOTTEN THAT FAR, TOM, I’VE ONLY BEEN IN THIS MATCH OFFICIALLY A WEEK AGO.
Tom Phillips: Strategy; for losers amirite?
WARHORSE: HAH. I’LL PROBABLY GIVE IT SOME THOUGHTS CLOSER TO THE TIME. I WOULDN’T GIVE IT ALL AWAY ANYWAY, GOD KNOWS THOSE OTHER PARTICIPANTS NEED IT.
Tom Phillips: Speaking of these participants in the Money In The Bank match, do you consider any of them a threat to you?
WARHORSE: NO.
Tom Phillips: No?
WARHORSE: NO. WHY WOULD THERE BE A THREAT TO ME?
Tom Phillips: Fair enough. So how’s-
KAK KAK
BOOM
Everyone suddenly looks around at these sudden noises, the noises of a door being kicked in after two failed attempts. What a wuss, didn’t even get it the first time.
WARHORSE: HOLD ON. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?
Both Tom and Warhorse stand up as we change to a handheld camera setup. Warhorse starts walking through his house trying to find what door got kicked in even.
Suddenly, in his kitchen we see an old man with a lot of baggy skin.
??: Ah there you are.
WARHORSE: THE FUCK, MAN. HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF KNOCKING?
??: You aren’t gonna reintroduce me to the camera, brother?
WARHORSE: YOU LITERALLY JUST BROKE INTO MY HOUSE.
This mystery man stands and sighs, slightly recognisable but almost like a Clark Kent thing. Rings a bell but can’t really place it. He walks past Warhorse and extends his hand to shake Tom Phillips’ hand.
James Hellwig: Jim Hellwig, nice to meet you, brother.
Tom Phillips: Warhorse’s producer, right?
James Hellwig: Uh- yeah. Sure. That’s what you know me from. Nothing else.
Tom is dazed by this response, the fuck is this old man talking about brother?
James Hellwig: Well anyway, I’m here because I’ve got a bone to pick with you, horse.
WARHORSE: NO FUCKING SHIT, DUMBASS. I THOUGHT WE WERE GOOD TERMS AFTER I SAW YOU BROKE INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE.
James Hellwig: Shut it boy.
WARHORSE: WHY I OUGHTA-
James Hellwig: We literally shoot your segment in your fucking garage. Three weeks you’ve not shown your face at production time. What excuse do you have for that?
WARHORSE: WHAT. OH. RIGHT. THAT TALKING SHIT WITH THE WARHORSE SEGMENT? BROTHER. IT WASN’T GETTING ME ANYWHERE. I DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO WASTE ON STANDING STATIC LIKE THAT. I’M MAKING MOVES NOW. I’M IN THE MONEY IN THE BANK MATCH, AIN’T YOU HEARD?
James Hellwig: Yeah. But would have you been relevant enough without it? You can big league me all you like, kid, but know who you’re talking to.
WARHORSE: OH YEAH THAT’S RIGHT A WASHED UP BUM WHO CAN’T WRESTLE ANYMORE. I ALMOST FORGOT.
Hellwig doesn’t seem particularly overjoyed with that.
WARHORSE: PEOPLE LAZILY COMPARE ME TO YOU EVER SINCE I’VE STEPPED IN THOSE ROPES. DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHADOW THAT MAKES? ONE THAT HAS A REPUTATION FOR LAZINESS. NO EFFORT IN TRYING. YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO WRESTLE. YOU KNOW WHY YOU DON’T KNOW? BECAUSE YOU DON’T THINK. THAT’S WHY. YOU DON’T THINK. YOU NEVER DID LEARN HOW TO THINK, DID YOU, HELLWIG?
JAMES HELLWIG: LISTEN HERE BROTHER YOU ARE WAY OUTTA LINE. THE FANS WILL FORGET YOU AS SOON AS YOU GET STEAMROLLED BY SOMEONE A LITTLE MORE THAN YOU CAN CHEW, SINCE THAT’S ALL YOU TEND TO DO, PICK BIG FIGHTS AND NOT KNOW WHAT YOUR ACTIONS INCUR. I’VE STARTED LOSING PATIENCE WITH YOU BECAUSE YOU DON’T HAVE A SHRED OF RESPECT IN YOUR BOD-
WARHORSE: WHY SHOULD I-
JAMES HELLWIG: SHUT THE FUCK UP. OH MY GOD. WHY DON’T YOU LEARN FOR ONCE TO SHUT YOUR FUCKING TRAP KID. YOU WERE NEVER LOVED, YOU WERE JUST A BLIP OF AN ATTRACTION. HARDLY A WRESTLER AT ALL FRANKLY. NOW? IN THIS GOD FORSAKEN RUN? YOU’RE IDOLISED SIMPLY FOR THE FACT YOU’VE BEEN HERE. IF THIS WERE YOUR FIRST RUN YOU’D BE LUCKY TO BE IN THE TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP SCENE RIGHT NOW.
Tom Phillips: Hey why don’t we bring down the volume guys and be civil?
There’s a slight pause as both men turn around to look at Phillips.
Both at the same time:
JAMES HELLWIG: SHUT UP TOM.
WARHORSE: SHUT UP TOM.
JAMES HELLWIG: PEOPLE COMPARE YOU TO THE WARRIOR BECAUSE YOU’D BE LUCKY TO BE HALF THE MAN I WAS.
Tom Phillips: Warrior?
Warhorse takes Tom by the shoulder and puts him in the broom closet and closes the door.
WARRIOR: SO ALL THIS TALK OF YOU BEING IN THE MONEY IN THE BANK MATCH IS POINTLESS BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT MAN ENOUGH TO STAND A CHANCE.
Warhorse turns around from the broom closet he’s just closed with his back to Hellwig, now facing him.
WARHORSE: I BET THAT MAKES YOU FEEL MAN, HUH. BREAKING INTO MY HOUSE. DISRESPECTING ME. SAYING HOW LITTLE YOU THINK OF ME. IN FRONT OF MY GUEST. IN FRONT OF THE UWF AUDIENCE. WHY? WHY TRY AND ENSURE I’M SO BENEATH YOU ALWAYS. ALL I EVER WANTED WAS SOME SUPPORT, WARRIOR, AND YOU THROW THIS SHIT BACK IN MY FACE.
HOW YOU THINK I’M NOTHING. HOW I CAN NEVER BE ANYTHING. SO WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I EVEN WANT YOU IN MY LIFE?
I FIND MYSELF HITTING WALLS CONSTANTLY BECAUSE YOU’RE ALWAYS IN MY HEAD. I HAVE FAITH IN MYSELF, I ALWAYS TRY TO GET BETTER, BUT IN YOUR EYES I’M THE SAME AS I’VE ALWAYS BEEN. SO WHAT THE FUCK IS LEFT FOR ME TO SAY TO YOU?
JAMES HELLWIG: …
WARHORSE: I’LL TELL YOU WHAT.
GOODBYE.
YOU CAN SEE YOURSELF OUT.
Hellwig leaves, potentially for the last time we’ll see these two in the room together. The Ultimate Warrior and Warhorse finally parting ways. In a bittersweet finale.
Tom Phillips (muffled): Hey let me out of here!
WARHORSE: OH SHIT.
Warhorse opens the broom closet and lets Phillips out.
WARHORSE: SORRY. GUY’S A HOTHEAD AND DIDN’T WANT YOU TO GET IN BETWEEN US IN THAT.
Tom Phillips: That’s understandable, I can’t believe he broke into your house like that.
WARHORSE: YEAH.
Tom Phillips: So would you like to continue the interview?
WARHORSE: I THINK I’M DONE FOR THE DAY BROTHER. SORRY.
"Knight Vision" begins to play throughout the arena and the capacity begins to groan because they know what time it is. It is time to titillate their juices with the arrival of the "Thursday Night Thriller". This is the "Million Dollar Megastar". This is LA Knight. Knight does not take long bursting through the curtain and out onto the stage. The reception he receives isn't warm whatsoever but LA Knight does not care. He soaks in the atmosphere while the jeers rain down on him.
Tony Chimel: Ladies and Gentlemen, coming to the ring, from Baltimore, Maryland, weighing in at 230 pounds, he is the "Million Dollar Megastar", L...A....Knight!
As Chimel announces the brash star from Baltimore, Knight spells his name out in the air just to make sure that everyone knows exactly who he is.
Knight continues down the ramp towards the ring. The entire time he talks trash to all the people in the front row. He's not here for them; he's here for himself. As he reaches the end of the aisleway, the fans get up and tell him to watch out as Solo Sikoa comes out and runs him down from behind! Sikoa then grabs him and throws him into the steel steps.
Mauro Ranallo: What the hell is Solo Sikoa doing out here!?
Corey Graves: Exactly what he needs to do. You heard roman earlier this week. LA Knight was the one to watch and so it's time for the Problem Solver to step up and handle business.
Solo picks up Knight and throws him into the ring. He follows him in and picks him up only to deliver the Samoan Spike! The ref is trying to get him away but Solo casually exits the ring and stands by the ramp and folds his arms as the music hits.
Head of the Table hits the PA System and out comes Roman Reigns. On his right he has the Wiseman of the Tribal Chief. Reigns does a sly rubbing of his red leigh he is wearing signifying he is the the head of the table. The three men lift there hands up in the sky signifying 'The Ones'.
Tony Chimel: Making his way to the ring from Pensacola, Florida being accompanied by Paul Heyman. The Tribal Chief Roman Reigns!
Reigns and company make there way to the ring and the reception is mixed for the Tribal Chief. Roman is taking his time to get in the ring showing little urgency. Roman and crew finally get into the ring and when they do they once again throw the ones up high in the sky. Roman removes his red lei and hands it to the Wiseman who exits the ring. Roman gets prepared for battle while the ref checks on Knight. He tells him he'll call off the match but Knight shakes his head and tells him to ring the damn bell.
VS 
DING DING DING
Roman runs right at him and clotheslines him in the corner. He throws multiple Clothesline over and over until he falls to a seated position. Roman then places his boot on his neck and tries to choke him out. The ref counts to four and Roman finally backs off. He lifts his finger in the air and the crowd boos him heavily.
Tom Phillips: Look at him. He looks so proud and for what?
Corey Graves: He's our Tribal Chief, why shouldn't he be proud. He's decimating a guy who embarrassed the former Intercontinental Champion last week.
Knight pulls himself up and Roman comes back over to lay down the law but Knight punches him in the gut a few times. Roman stops any momentum with a Knee to the gut and then shoves his head between his legs. He lifts him up for a Powerbomb but Knight starts punching him in the head until he's down. He decks him with a punch that turns him around and then he hits the Backstabber! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
Roman kicks out at 1! Knight picks him up and goes to lift him up for the Gravy Train but roman starts clubbing him in the back and whips him to the ropes. He runs after him but Knight gets the boot up to knock him back a few paces. LA then jumps up to the middle ope and comes flying off with the Blockbuster! He goes for the pin again!
1 . . .
2 . . .
Roman kicks out! Knight picks him up again and looks right at Solo. He tells him you caused this and goes for the Gravy Train once more but Roman flips over into a Sunset Flip. Knight rolls back up to his feet and Drop kicks Roman. Reigns crawls over to the ropes and Knight comes over to him. Roman sacks him in the gut and then gives him a Headbutt! Knight is knocked back and few paces and Roman leaps at him with the Superman Punch! He stays on his feet but he's dazed and Roman hits the ropes coming back with a Spear! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, Roman Reigns!
Mauro Ranallo: I can't say I'm pleased with how he got it done but it was a smart tactic by Roman Reigns.
Corey Graves: The rest of the field needs to be able to go to the same lengths or they'll be busy looking at the lights as Roman raises that briefcase over his head.
Solo and Heyman comes into the ring and Roman raises his finger in the air, the three standing tall as the show goes elsewhere.
The feed is suddenly cut off with a series of glitches and static that are taken over by cackling laughter and a weird sounding voice, as the image compiles itself before the viewers vary eyes you see a masked figure speaking.
Uncle Howdy: Do you know who you are? heh heh heh hee hee, Do you know what I am? I am it, but H̴͔͐e̵͍̐ is...All. That is why, Vinny will fall. HA HAHAHAH. Perhaps you need to rest, perhaps you need some sleep. So let me tell you a tale of your dear friend. Once upon a time, lil Bray Wyatt was living with Sister Abigail...A Family compound out in the woods of Louisiana is where they called home. Sister Abigail rescued these youngens, rescued them from the world that would have ate them all up. In this cabin, in the middle of nowhere, they knew true freedom. But even Freedom as true as this, comes at a price. Ya See Sister Abigail told them, ya'll are free to be amongst the trees and woodland creatures, free to roam the wild for all of nature is ours to cherish. The only limit, the only rule...Is to beware the Thing in the Woods...For H̸e̴ is Real, and H̴e̴ is the great eater. One day, the brothers of Abigail were off on their merry way. Hunting rabbits with their lil slingshots, without a care in the world. Only...on this day, they heard a strange noise coming from the woods. At first they just convinced themselves it was a bear, tried to keep their distance and continue with their fun. But this presumed "bear" started getting louder, it made these howls that were sickening and chilling at the same time. It almost felt like the sound of its breath was enveloping the woods around them, that it knew where they were and it was not happy to share these woods. Well wouldn't ya know it, All the brothers began to ran. Ran a desperate run, as if the devil itself were chasing them and nipping at their heels...But Bray...Oh Bray will admit himself that even he felt fear.
For a few moments he felt the urge to run like his brothers had, but that scared feeling gave way to intrigue...to wonder. In the fracas, he dropped his slingshot, and was ready to follow the path home, but something in him stopped him...And he found himself walking towards the ungodly sound, slowly getting closer and closer to it. Bray didn't know what he was doing, he had no thoughts on his mind he had no reason to do what he was doing, it was simply something that he could not help. That...That is when he saw it. A Beast walking upright, with no pigment in its skin...pale as a pearl...yellow snake like coils for hair running down from his head. This thing, it was dragging a lifeless alligator by it's unhinged top jaw and it seemed to be looking for something more to get it's hands on. Lil Bray...why...he felt his heart running and in that moment he began to pray up above. With tears in his eyes, he begged for it not to see him...all he could think is this constant plead for Abigail to forgive him for not listening to her. For breaking the one rule, all he prayed was for it not to see him so that he may return to her.
That haha...That is when it looked right at him, with yellow and red eyes burning at his very soul. Bray could not move, he was frozen in fear. He could feel the hairs standing up on his neck, he could feel his body urging him to run but his muscles unable to react or respond as the Thing in the Woods stared at him. Brays eye contact with this beast, it broke when it suddenly reached out it's hand...and in that hand was Brays Slingshot. Almost immediately, Bray began to run. Running wildly, running without purpose, running not in any particular direction only running away from one. It felt like an eternity, the thumping of his heart in his ears, the breath leaving his lungs as his legs carried him through the woods with reckless abandon. Until finally, his eyes caught sight of the cabin. Bray rushed through the door, in a state of panic he ran past his brothers and to Sister Abigails room crying out. "I'm So Sorry Abi, I'm Sorry" As Bray tried to catch his breath, she calmly asked what happened. "I...I Saw it. The Thing in the Woods, I thought it was a lie but you were telling the truth. I'm So Sorry-I" Cut off by a calming tone, Sister Abigail simply asked "What did He say to you?". This perplexed lil Bray, Bray looked at her confused and blabbered on still out of breath. "What? Ḣ̷̨ê̶̼...H̷͔̔é̶̟ didn't Say anything. H̶e̴ just stared at me, like H̶e̴ was looking through me with those...those eyes. And H̵e̶ held out his hand to me...Held it out, and in it was My Slingshot." Throughout this, Bray could not help but have this weird feeling inside of him and wonder to himself why is she so calm right now? If she knows about Him, why wouldn't she be more scared about this? That's when she said "Baby Bray, don't you understand? It's His slingshot too...". "What?" is all Bray could blurt out under his breath, "You are...the Thing in the Woods."
I know who you are Vinny, and worst for you, is I know what I am. Take it from your Uncle Howdy, at Summerslam...H̵̼͎̍͒ë̷̗̝ will change you. Bray, it's time...to Revel...in What you ARE.
The scene opens to one LWO member Rey Mysterio when the other three of LWO came outta nowhere until they saw Rey held his head down in they all ask Rey a simple answer about his losing streak at Revolution
Latino Heat|Eddie Guerrero: Rey Rey what was that last Friday Essa you could've have won that match if it wasn't for Vinny Marseglia. who won the match fair n square but enough of that Homes the four of u got a situation with The Mafia at Summer Slam and check this out Essa the four of us gets to pin any member of The Mafia for Finn Balor's TV Championship in a four verses four match at Summer Slam.
Master of The Six one nine|Rey Mysterio: Eddie. I'm sorry I panic and Yea I lost to Vinny. this past Friday and I won't lose again when the four of us take out The Mafia at Summer Slam.
Fly Queen|Zelina Vega: Rey. don't forget about that match that you had this past Friday on Revolution let's worry about this four verses four tag team match when the four of us take care of The Mafia and take that TV Championship on Summer Slam.
three of LWO sits alone side with the legendary Rey Mysterio when Confess with him
The Emperor| Santos Esobar: look Rey. you made me and Zelina win our first tag team match when me and Zelina Vega. won the match against your Son Dominick and little Mommy Rhea Ripley. they both got what they deserve at Revolution but now it's all four of us to take down The Mafia for Finn Balor's TV Championship in our four verses four match next Sunday at Summer Slam on UWF.
Eddie wraps his arms around his best friend Rey Mysterio to finish something up until Summer Slam
Latino Heat|Eddie Guerrero: Listen Rey. we need you out there when the four of us take out The Mafia for Finn's TV Championship at Summer Slam cause next week on the Final Revolution you and I are gonna team up together and take out Finn and Damian Priest next week on Revolution until we settle the score at Summer Slam when we have ourselves an four on four match on Summer Slam at UWF.
Eddie/Rey/Zelina/Santos: We're The LWO
Before LWO could continue on about their business they are met with the man who formerly went by Mafia Dom as he gets his words off his chest.
Dom
Did my ears just deceive me? Or do you really think that the Television Championship is actually coming home to the LWO. Well think again because as you said before anyone of you could get the pin and become the Television Champion.. But what about me? I have that same opportunity as anyone of you. Instead I'm going into that match alone, I'm no longer riding the coattails of The Mafia so what if I'm the one that walks out victorious? What if I'm the one that finally takes that championship from Finn Balor and show each and ever person who's dounted me before and shove it in their face.. See ya at SummerSlam esse.
The bewildering sounds of "Raining Blood" blast through the PA, with the wailing distortion echoing through our ears. The spooky sounds continue to flow, until we peak up and then we hit the strong, driving riff coming through the speakers, as Warhorse pumps through the curtain, standing off with menacing head bangs . The Warhorse sympathisers in the crowd bang their heads with ultra enthusiasm through the whole of the first two verses, as well as the MAJORITY Slayer fans, throw 'em up brother.
Tony Chimel: Weighing in tonight at 4000 lbs of Raw Heavy Metal, from St Louis, Missouiri, USA, Warhorse!
Wait was he not at the top of the ramp that entire time? He's disappeared. we were too busy headbanging to pay attention to this dude. He's in the cheap seats!!! Headbanging with the crowd, he makes his way down, hopping over the guardrail and sprinting his way up the steps, along the ring apron and back and forth, and through those ropes into the ring.
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, and thinks about ruling some goddamn ass, baby, brother, dude, boy.
The slow intro of "Teenage Nosferatu Pussy" blares throughout the arena as the lighting changes to shades of orange and red. Once the opening lyrics are heard, Jamie Hayter steps through the entrance curtain and is met with jeers and boos. She stops on the stage, bends down, and then quickly leans backward while raising her arms. This triggers the pyro, which shoots up through the stage. The camera zooms in on her as she starts sauntering down the entrance while talking shit.
Tony Chimel: "From Southampton, England... JAMIE HAYTER!!!"
Jamie makes it to ringside and stops. She eyes the ring before climbing up onto the apron. She enters the ring and looks to the crowd. She cups her hand around her ear, similarly to Hulk Hogan, and the jeers and boos only intensify. She looks at the crowd with disdain and mockingly applauds as if telling them that's all they should do for her. This only gets the crowd angrier as they continue showering her with boos.
VS 
DING! DING! DING!
WARHORSE throws the first punch, and Hayter responds with a strike of equal force right back. Jamie whips the Horse across the ring, and Hayter goes for a back body drop. WARHORSE doesn't give a flying fuck as he lands on his feet. He rebounds off the rope and connects a lariat right to the back of Hayter's cranium. She goes to one knee, and WARHORSE comes back around as Hayter is able to load back and connect right into the chest of WARHORSE with her own lariat. Both refuse to yield...
Mauro Ranallo: "Neither giving an inch of a hair right here..."
Hayter narrows her focus and charges forward with an explosive burst of energy. She aims for WARHORSE, attempting a lariat, but the coked up, crazy son of a bitch sidesteps at the last moment, causing Hayter to rebound off the ropes. Capitalizing on her momentarily vulnerable position, WARHORSE charges toward Hayter. He ducks the arm as Hayter swings wildly, using the ropes as leverage to launch himself up and into a spring boarding shoulder tackle, taking down Hayter with the extra momentum...
Tom Phillips: "The springboard pounce by WARHORSE, using his whole body as a torpedo..."
Corey Graves: "Not like he can use his mind..."
WARHORSE doesn't waste a second. He quickly grabs Hayter by her hair, pulling her up to her feet. As he gets her in position, he hoists her up onto his shoulders, showcasing his impressive strength. The arena buzzes with anticipation as WARHORSE holds Hayter for a moment. But Hayter turns his powerbomb attempt into a surprise hurricanrana, and WARHORSE goes face-first into the turnbuckle. Hayter is ready as WARHORSE stumbles into her arms, and she hoists WARHORSE onto her shoulders...
Before she can execute a samoan drop, WARHORSE starts to fight back, elbowing Hayter in the head repeatedly. Hayter's grip starts to loosen, allowing WARHORSE to slip out from her grasp. He drops down behind her and quickly wraps his arms around her waist, attempting to lift her for a German suplex. But Hayter shifts her weight, countering the suplex attempt and stopping the attempt with an elbow...
Mauro Ranallo: "Neither Hayter nor WARHORSE are allowing the other to gain full control because this match can quickly fall like dominos if either competitor allows the other an inch..."
Hayter spins around and delivers a swift kick to WARHORSE's midsection, stunning him momentarily. Seizing the opportunity, she grabs his arm, whips him towards the ropes, and as he comes rebounding back, she nails him with a devastating spinebuster. Hayter hooks the leg for the pin attempt...
Tom Phillips: "WARHORSE taking the spinebuster, he better hope that hasn't broken his spine in two as he will need to be in tip-top shape for the Money In The Bank Ladder match at Summerslam..."
Corey Graves: "WARHORSE wouldn't know what a contact is, I think this loser just shows up here weekly."
No, The WARHORSE kicks out as the referee hits the mat for two. Hayter is almost impressed as she connected with a clean spinebuster, but something must be in the powder WARHORSE snorted before the match. As quickly as he hit the mat, he is back on his feet. Hayter is not phased for long, goes for a strike, but like water off a duck's back, WARHORSE no-sells the right. He connects with his own right as Hayter fumbles backward...
WARHORSE, fueled by his seemingly limitless supply of coke, continues to press forward. He launches into a combination of strikes, hitting Hayter with a series of hard punches, forearms, and chops that echo through the arena. Each hit seems to bring the audience's fervor to an intense climax, each strike creating a feedback loop of adrenaline and excitement.
Tom Phillips: "WARHORSE almost unlimited energy, it's almost like he is powering up the louder the crowd is."
Hayter tries to defend herself, blocking some of the strikes and retaliating with a knee to WARHORSE's midsection. But WARHORSE taking a lesson from Hogan absorbs the blow and fires back with a sudden burst of speed, sending Hayter into the ropes. As she rebounds, WARHORSE takes a leap, catching her with a lightning-quick enzuigiri that catches her flush on the side of the head. Hayter staggers, dazed from the impact, as WARHORSE gets back onto his two feet he swings around a boot connecting to Hayter's temple with a spinning heel kick. WARHORSE goes for the pinfall...
Tom Phillips: "WARHORSE looking to go into Summerslam with all the momentum..."
1...
2...
Hayter kicks out at two!...
WARHORSE doesn't let the failed pin deter him. He quickly gets up, grabbing Hayter by the arm and whipping her into the ropes. As she comes back, he bends forward, attempting to lift her for a backdrop, but Hayter counters with a sunset flip, rolling WARHORSE onto his back and bridging for a pin of her own!
1...
2...
WARHORSE powers out at TWO! Hayter kips up to her feet, and WARHORSE, still fueled by a seemingly endless energy reserve, kips up to his feet as well, a wild grin on his face. Both competitors circle the ring, back to square one...
They slowly approach each other, cautiously gauging their next moves. WARHORSE, with a manic grin, suddenly lunges forward, attempting a sudden clothesline. But Hayter ducks under the arm and transitions smoothly into a waistlock. She goes for a German suplex. But WARHORSE plants his feet firmly on the mat and resists the throw, countering with a back elbow that connects with Hayter's face. She releases the waistlock, staggering back, and WARHORSE seizes the opening.
With a burst of adrenaline, he charges toward the ropes, rebounds off them, and hurtles back toward Hayter. As she turns to face him, WARHORSE executes a handspring back elbow, catching Hayter off guard and sending her crashing to the mat. The WARHORSE quickly ascends the nearest turnbuckle, embracing the chaos and excitement of the moment.
Mauro Ranallo: "TIME FOR AN ASS RULER!"
Perched on the top turnbuckle, WARHORSE takes a moment. But he takes too long as Hayter gets to her feet and puts her body weight into the top rope, causing WARHORSE to fall and land right on his family jewels. Hayter quickly ascends to the top turnbuckle with WARHORSE as she lifts WARHORSE to a vertical position as she stands atop the top ropes. She jumps backward, planting WARHORSE into the ring with a falcon arrow as opposed to the superplex. Both Jamie and WARHORSE take the brunt of the move as both of them just take a moment...
Both competitors are breathing heavily, their bodies showing the toll of the intense back-and-forth battle they've waged. The referee begins the count, the audience counting along with each number.
1...
2...
3...
Slowly, both WARHORSE and Hayter start to stir, using the ropes to pull themselves up. Their eyes meet once more, and with a nod of mutual understanding, they throw caution to the wind and engage. They both go for broke as they hit each other with lefts and rights, elbows and knees, anything and everything is being thrown out. Hayter is caught off guard by a jumping knee that is a combo breaker as Hayter falls into the ropes. WARHORSE, with the power of a freight train, runs at Hayter as he connects with a lariat that sends both him and Hayter spilling to the outside. The referee is in a poor position as Hayter's leg connects on the referee's paper chin as he goes to the canvas...
Tom Phillips: "THE REF IS DOWN! GET SOMEONE OUT HERE TO ENSURE WE GET A RIGHTFUL WINNER..."
Hayter is still downed as WARHORSE begins to shake the cobwebs loose. But through the crowd, a colossus makes his way to ringside, jumping over the barricade. Reed smiles as he picks up the dead weight of Hayter and throws her under the bottom rope. He looks to make an example. Reed makes his way up the ropes as he looks for the Tsunami, Hayter backed into a corner almost sensing it, kips up to her feet as she catches Reed by surprise. He quickly gets off his perch as he goes to put Hayter down. WARHORSE has gotten to his feet, he enters the ring, he crouches down behind Hayter and Reed, who both are unaware that WARHORSE has snuck back into the ring...
Corey Graves: "Hayter has angered a beast by the name of Bronson Reed! NOW SHE PAYS HER DUE..."
Tom Phillips: "Reed was the one who chickened out in their first encounter..."
Corey Graves: "Tom, it's about knowing when to pick your mark, and Reed thinks now is the right time..."
Tom Phillips: "Whatever you say, why don't you try to be chummy to Reed's face? He'd see right through you..."
Hayter catches Reed off guard as she lifts him up with his legs as she goes to send him back-first into the turnbuckle. Hayter, having no idea, uses Reed as a battering ram, planting WARHORSE between thigh and turnbuckle. Hayter realizing the unfair advantage she just gained musters all her strength to lift Reed up and over the ropes and to the outside of the ring with an impressive throw. WARHORSE is downed in this altercation as Hayter hooks both legs as she clears WARHORSE from the ropes. The referee is only just now coming to, unaware of any foul play as he begins to count...
Mauro Ranallo: "WARHORSE unlucky, caught between the hatred between these two..."
1...
2...
3...
DING! DING! DING!
Tony Chimel: "YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL, JAMIE HAYTER"
The bell rings. Hayter has managed to pull off the victory against WARHORSE. Hayter smiles as Reed goes to enter the ring, but there is an army of men blocking Reed's path to Hayter. WARHORSE rolls out of the ring. He is pissed that Reed cost him the match, but all is fair in love and war. Hayter stands tall, throwing insults toward Reed who is trying to swat away everyone holding him back...
UWF Revolution has been off the charts but isn't it always. The crowd are buzzing for a massive night but it's time to take a break from the ring as something that hasn't been seen for a while in UWF history. A little throwback as a graphic flashes up on the screen.
The graphic flashes on the screen for a few minutes before a grainy steam shows the back of a big bald white guy and a skinny, balder black guy. The figures are confirmed as Bubba Ray and D-Von... The Dudley Boyz as they slowly turn their heads. Bubba has a phone to his ear, it's ringing as D-Von is sitting there waiting like a kid in a candy store. It's amazing how clear and loud the sound is, almost like it was set up for this little segment but nonetheless it seems Dudleyz has no idea they are getting recorded. It seems to be some hidden footage camera.
Bubba: Schhh, schh D-Von, it's ringing.
The Dudleyz pause, waiting on someone to answer. It seems the time has come as Bubba's eye light up.
Bubba: Argh yes hello, I was wondering if you could help me out. Is this the International Olympic Committee?
Bubba pauses, allowing the other person on the phone time to respond.
Bubba: Good, good, I've hopefully rang the right place. I'm just going to cut straight to the chase. I want to know how much an Olympic Gold Medal is worth these days?
Bubba once again pauses, nodding his head along and making acknowledgement noises.
Bubba: Geez is that all? Doesn't seem like alot....certainly not enough to keep bloody mentioning 24/7 but hey, not everyone has a gold medal am I right?
One more pause.
Bubba: What about from the year 1996?
Pause.
Bubba: Wait so it goes down in price? What about the antique quality of it?
You guessed it. Pause.
Bubba: Mmmm that's interesting. What about winning it with....... (deep breath before his voice changes) A BROKEN FRECKING NECK?
Pause Pause Pause.
Bubba: Yer I didn't think that would add anything and you want to know how I broke it? I can't remember actually. Probably didn't drink enough milk that morning or my bald head was just to damn heavy and that's damn true.
D-Von pulls at Bubba's shirt sleeve before whispering something to Bubba.
D-Von: Angle had hair back then.
Bubba: I thought that bastard was born bald?
D-Von: Well everyone is born bald but he did grow hair as he grew.
Bubba: Pfft don't care, no hair.......yes yes sorry sorry I'm still here. Why am I looking for a price for a 1996 Olympic Gold Medal you ask?
Bubba looks at D-Von. D-Von's face lights up as Bubba begins to chuckle under his breath.
Bubba: Well Chaminda, the reason I'm asking is because 2 weeks ago, your boys, The Dudley Boyz sent that Olympic Jackass Kurt Angle home and out of UWF. That's right, The Dudleyz kicked out 4 morons that thought they actually meant something in UWF and now...now they don't have any money coming in so I thought, hey, we aren't complete asshats so thought I would do my part to help him out but it seems old Kurt might have to get another job somewhere as the thing that means most to him ain't worth much now is it....
Bubba contains his laughter as D-Von seems to be losing it.
Bubba: Imagine all that hard work and that is what it's worth at the end.......a bit like Kurt trying hard and making a comeback only for us to kick his red white and blue ass straight back to unemployment. Good day Chaminda, I would apoglogize for wasting your time but I'm still waiting for an apology to Kurt for bringing us back to UWF in the first place so I guess we will just both have to be left dissapointed.
With that, Bubba hangs up the phone, looking at his brother and bursting out in laughter. D-Von couldn't contain his laughter either as both boys continues laughing as the GTV graphic flashes back on the screen and the cameras go somewhere else.
As there’s a break in the Revolution action, things head to a hospital room where Vinny is sitting in a chair next to a bed, the sound of a heart monitor beeping heard as he begins to speak.
Vinny Marseglia: The Fiend is someone that Bray Wyatt says doesn’t have a heart. I think that if he were the resident in this bed hooked up to this machine, we’d find out otherwise from the sound of it beeping. There’s a heart in The Fiend’s chest for me to stop, and when I do…
Vinny swings his axe in one motion at the heart monitor, breaking it so that only one prolonged beep is heard.
Everything is going to flatline.
Vinny removes his axe from the machine and starts walking out of the hospital room, the camera following him.
But not just for the world as Bray Wyatt knows it, but as all of you know it. It will all die when The Fiend does, and then I can start rebuilding my Kingdom because after destroying such a powerful entity and usurping him as the man to be feared in the UWF, there’ll be no denying me my crown or title. Every new beginning comes from another beginning’s end….
Vinny walks up to the window of the nursery where a nurse is placing an infant in a designated bed.
Life and death compliment each other in that way.
Vinny looks at the camera and points his axe at it.
Revere me. Fear me. And bow down to your, “Horror King”.
The crowd are quiet, waiting for something to happen but the silence doesn't last long as fireworks shoot from the ceiling down onto the stage as a familiar theme song plays out of the PA System.
LET ME SEE YOU PUT EM UP,
REACH THE SKY, TOUCH THE STARS UP ABOVE
CAUSE IT'S ONE TIME FOR THE UNDERDOG
The crowd rise to their feet as they await for the appearance of the Runt of the Family. The crowd raise the noise levels as Spike Dudley and Stacy Keibler emerge from the curtain. Stacy is looking fine with some glasses on as Spike is looking all business.
The couple look out into the crowd as they shower them with cheers. Spike grabs Stacy's hand and they both begin the walk down the ramp. The fans are begging for high fives and both oblige, touching the free hands with all the fans at ringside as they come to end of the ramp. Spike follows Stacy around, helping her climb the stairs. She reaches the top as Spike slides into the ring, walking over to the turnbuckle, climbing it and beating his chest whilst he looks into the crowd, meanwhile at the same time, Stacy is making her trademark entrance into the ring.
Tony Chimel: From Dudleyville, being accompanied to the ring by the Duchess of Dudleyville, Stacy Keibler, weighing in at 145 pounds, SPIKE DUDLEY
Spike steps down from the turnbuckle and comes back to the center of the ring, meeting Stacy in the ring and giving her a kiss. He shows her the way to the ropes as she climbs out of the ring, the same way she climbed in as Spike turns and is ready for his match.
DO YOU SMELL WHAT THE SHARK IS COOKING?
The crowd begin to boo almost immediately as the now familiar voice is heard over the PA system. 'Deepest Bluest' by LL Cool J begins to play over the PA system and before long The Shark makes his way out onto the stage to a loud, mostly negative reaction. The Shark looks out at the crowd with a look of disgust for a short moment, he raises one eyebrow before he begins to swagger down to the ring. The Shark pays no attention to the crowds booing as he reaches the bottom of the ramp and stops to soak it all in before he climbs the ring steps and onto the apron. The Shark then walks along the apron and up onto the top rope where he stands atop the top turnbuckle and once again bathes in the reaction he receives from the crowd.
Tony Chimel: Introducing, now residing in Cocoa Beach, Florida... weighing in at 205 pounds, The Shark!
The Shark steps down into the ring and looks around at the crowd, once again raising his eyebrow before he takes off his sunglasses and shirt and hands it to a ringside worker awaiting his the sound of the bell.
VS 
DING DING DING
The two move int o tie up in the middle of the ring and The Shark gets control right away with a Side Headlock Takeover. He takes his free hand and starts giving Spike a noogie, laughing until the former International Champion slips out and gets to his feet. He rubs his head looking angry as The Shark laughs at him. He sticks his hand out and does the bring it motion to him. Spike runs at him but gets caught with a Drop Toe Hold. Spike's face got planted into the mat and he checks his nose to make sure it's not broken. The Shark walks over and does that weird stagger stomp a few times to his back until Spike rolls out of the ring.
Corey Graves: The Shark is making a former International Champion look like the chump he is.
Mauro Ranallo: Spike ended the legendary reign of Kevin Steen.
Corey Graves: And that war cost him his career because now he's just a broken shell of a man.
Tom Phillips: Well that broken shell of a man just won a war against Samoa Joe and still had a great family by his side. Something that I don't think The Shark has anymore.
Stacy rubs Spike's back and gives him a few words of encouragement. He slides back into the ring where The Shark is just chillin' in the corner. Spike walks to the middle of the ring and wants another tie up. The Shark laughs but humors him. He gain advantage again but this time Spike lifts him up for a Back Suplex! The Shark gets up and staggers to the corner where Spike runs over and gives him a Body Block in the corner! He then lifts him up to the top rope and climbs up there along with him. He jumps up and wraps his legs around his head to deliver the Frankenstiener! He goes for the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
The Shark kicks out! Spike picks him up and brings him to the corner to smash in face into the turnbuckles but The Shark gets his hands up to block it and Elbows Spike in the ribs. LSD walks away holding his side and The Shark grabs him from behind and executes a Dragon Suplex! Spike is folded up like a sandwich but the former UWF Champion picks him up enough to shove his head between his legs and hits the Texas Piledriver! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
Spike kicks out!
Corey Graves: Spike should stay down if he knows what's good for him.
Mauro Ranallo: I don't usually agree with Corey but it may be smart to rest up before Money in the Bank and not risk injury in this match.
Tom Phillips: Come on guys you know that's not who Spike Dudley is.
The Shark brings up Spike and sets him up for the Shark Bite. Dudley begins to elbow him in the side of the head to break free from his grasp and then kicks him in the gut and delivers a Stunner! The Shark flops back like a fish out of water. Somewhere The Rock has a tear in his eye. Spike picks him up and gets him in the Side Headlock he points to the corner and goes for the Dudley Dog but The Shark instead turns it into an Atomic Drop! Spike bounces up and down holding his tushy and The Shark runs at him and hit a Float Over DDT! He goes for the cover!
1 . . .
2 . . .
Spike kicks out! The Shark takes his hand and rags him to the center of the ring. He then kicks his arm and slowly removes his elbow pad. He runs to the ropes and moves in for the Deep Blue Elbow Drop but Spike rolls out of the way just in time. The Shark gets up holding his elbow and Spike hits him with a Headbutt to the gut! He follows that up with a Hurrincanrana! He decides to go to the top rope and waits for The Shark to get to his feet. He comes off with a Diving Crossbody but The Shark moves out of the way and Spike eats nothing but mat! The Shark then grabs his legs and places him in the Shark's Stretch!
Corey Graves: This is his best chance to call it quits right here before The Shark makes it so he can't even climb the ladder at Summerslam.
Tom Phillips: Don't give in Spike! We all believe in you!
The Shark has him right where he want's him and Spike is too small to really drag himself over to the ropes. Unfortunately for Sharky, Spike's size ends up working for him as the usual torque allows Spike to slip free easier and rolls his shoulder to relieve the pressure. Spike stands up and gives him a Dudley Stomp to the gut! The Shark rolls away holding his stomach. Spike runs over for a senton but The Shark gets his knees up to block him. Spike rolls away holding his back and both men get to their feet at the same time. They start to exchange shots but The Shark gets the better of the two, Striking him with punches before he backs up and spits in his hand and takes a big swing. Spike Ducks it and hits another Headbutt to the gut! With The Shark hunched over, Spike grabs his head and runs up the ropes for the Dudley Dog! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, Spike Dudley!
Stacy comes in and celebrates with Spike who looks surprised to see he got the win. He pump his fist, having taken down the loud mouth but knows he'll have to see him again at Summerslam as well as 6 other men. They head to the back as the show moves on.
Camera fades in, capturing the sterile room of the insane asylum. Leyton Buzzard appears disheveled and tense, his eyes filled with a mix of guilt and conviction. Dr. Williams, concerned yet determined, sits across from him, ready to offer support.
Week 4:
Dr. Williams: "Leyton, it seems there have been some recent developments. Can you tell me what happened?"
Leyton: "Doc, I... I couldn't control myself. I attacked the inmate who beat me up before. Trevor Lee, he urged me to seek revenge. I couldn't resist."
Dr. Williams leans forward, her expression a mix of concern and understanding.
Dr. Williams: "Leyton, it's important for us to address this incident. I want to understand your thought process and what led you to act upon the voice of Trevor Lee."
Leyton: "It was him, Doc. I know it sounds crazy, but I could hear Trevor Lee's voice clearly, commanding me to get revenge. He wanted me to stand up for myself."
Dr. Williams: "Leyton, I understand that you believe you heard Trevor Lee's voice, but it's crucial to consider other factors as well. Let's explore the emotions and thoughts that influenced your actions."
Leyton: "You don't get it, Doc! Trevor Lee has been manipulating me this whole time. He knows everything. He's been visiting me, urging me to take matters into my own hands."
Dr. Williams: "Leyton, I understand that you firmly believe this, but please remember that the facility has strict protocols and regulations. Unauthorized visits are not permitted during certain hours, including the time of the incident. It's important to assess if there could be alternative explanations for your experience. Leyton you haven't had any visitors for the past month,"
Leyton: " Doc. I know it doesn't make sense, but Trevor Lee is involved."
Dr. Williams: "Leyton, I can see the distress and confusion this situation has caused you. We'll continue to explore these beliefs and experiences, seeking clarity and understanding. Together, we will find a way forward."
The camera captures Leyton's troubled expression, his conviction in Trevor Lee's involvement clear, while Dr. Williams maintains her unwavering commitment to helping him untangle the complexities of his delusions.
The scene fades out, leaving a sense of heightened tension and the need for a thorough investigation into the circumstances surrounding Leyton's belief in Trevor Lee's direct influence.
The screen fades to black, a distant crackle of a wood burning fire can be heard. The scene now fades from black into a room dimly lit by the fire that was heard previous. A large shadow is cast now over the background of the scene. The figure bends over and reaches down, inspects the camera and makes his appearance known to the world. A painted face, clad in armour... he begins to speak.
I, The Mighty Caleb have traversed through many realms. The Mighty Caleb has fought the strongest warriors and savoured the greatest battles. The Mighty Caleb has gone toe to toe with the toughest men of my realm but I have since spoken to the elders. The elders have made council with their runes and they tell of a fate bestowed upon me. I must go now to the UWF. A land of great warriors, plentiful gold and honour to be won in battle. I have come not to raid, not to pillage but to test my mettle against the best your realm may offer. I have watched from afar, scouting my competition and I have to say I am impressed. You have large men, strong men and you have quick, agile men, smart men, cunning men... you even have women as strong as men and equally as comfortable in the heat of battle which in itself is quite intimidating it must be said... But at the same time, The Mighty Caleb has seen scoundrels a plenty. Villains, ne'er-do-wells, bastards... whatever you may call them and these must be vanquished for they have no place in the glorious ring of battle. the elders have sent me forth as a conduit of the old gods and in this realm I will be their hammer. I look forward to the battle... I look forward to the test... I look forward to the glory of conquest and I look forward to bringing you all with me as my warband. We will fight well and we will drink well and brothers and sisters we will have our glory... SKÅL, SKÅL!, SKÅL!
The man, self identified as The Mighty Caleb pounds his fist and continues his chant as the scene fades and we return to our usual broadcast.
DING DING!
Tony Chimel: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and it is your main event! Introducing first…
As the riff kicks in to Jefferson Starship's "Jane," the man known only as "Freshly Squeezed" Orange Cassidy emerges from the back to an uproarious pop from the crowd. Sporting his aviators and his magnificently coiffed hair, Cassidy walks coolly down to the ring, hands in his pockets. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry, and as he reaches the end of the ramp, he pauses to offer a weak fist bump to a fan holding a thumb's up out over the barricade.
Tony Chimel: From... wherever... and weighing in at... whatever... he is "Freshly Squeezed," Orange CASSIDY!
Cassidy then heads up the ring steps lazily and eases himself between top and middle ropes, before moving to the middle of the ring and throwing up a half-enthusiastic thumbs up to a pop from the crowd. OC heads to the corner and lounges there as he removes his aviators and awaits the beginning of the contest.
Tony Chimel: And the opponent…
As the sound of metal clashing echoes around the building, “Wish It Away” by Psycho Dalek starts to play and out from behind the curtain steps the reigning UWF Champion, Drew McIntyre. With the title belt strapped around his waist, The Scotsman slowly walks towards the top of the ramp and after taking a moment to stop and look at the ground, he tilts his head up and raises both fists in sync with two fire pyrotechnics either side of him.
Tony Chimel: From Ayr, Scotland. Weighing in at 265 pounds. He is the Ultimate Wrestling Federation Champion, The Destroyer, Drew McIntyre!
The master of the Claymore walks down the ramp and upon reaching the end makes a turn towards the steel ring steps. After taking a brief pause, he smacks the top of them with his open right hand, not once, but twice, before climbing up and entering the ring through the middle rope. Once inside, McIntyre heads for the opposite turnbuckle, climbs to the top rope, unclips the title and perches for a moment before raising it high into the air with his right hand. As more fire pyro goes off from the stage, McIntyre dropping back down to the mat and unclips his ring coat with his spare hand in anticipation for the upcoming contest to begin.
DING DING!
As the ring bell sounds, Cassidy raises his arms up above his head and points his hands downward as Drew goes for a Pump Kick but it’s avoided as Orange successfully places his hands in his pockets. Drew goes for a right punch but Orange sidesteps it, then Drew goes for a left punch but Orange sidesteps it as well so the big man goes for a Lariat but Orange ducks and stays low, driving his shoulder lazily into the abdomen of the UWF Champion before raising up back to a vertical base, hands still in his pockets as Drew has a look on his face like, “What dafuq was that?”
Tom Phillips: Was that a Spear from the Intercontinental Champion?
Mauro Ranallo: Because of how an orange is divvied up when you eat it, I think a more fitting name is Slice.
Tom Phillips: So an Orange Slice? But that’s one of Kyle O’Reilly’s moves!
Corey Graves: Will you two stop jaw jacking about nothing?
McIntyre takes a wide swing at his opponent but O.C. avoids it by ducking, staying low again and once more weakly driving his shoulder into the abdomen of Drew. As Cassidy straightens up this time, Drew goes for a Glasgow Kiss but Cassidy sidesteps it and delivers a lazy kick to the side of Drew’s leg as the crowd goes, “Oh!”. Orange steps back in front of McIntyre and unloads on the side of his other leg in the same fashion, alternating feet with each “kick” and getting the same crowd response with each one that connects. McIntyre seizes the neck of Cassidy now but Cassidy dives toward the mat and rolls forward onto his feet, springing backwards and blasting Drew in the back of the head with an elbow as McIntyre is sent staggering forward towards the ropes.
Drew catches himself on the ropes and turns around angrily as he starts swinging wildly at Cassidy again, O.C. dodging each one, much to the rising agitation of the UWF Champion.
Tom Phillips: This must be the power of Ultra Orangestinct.
Mauro Ranallo: I Vitamin C what you did there, Tom.
Corey Graves: I hate you both!
Drew suddenly delivers a knee toward the abdomen of Cassidy but Orange gets his hands quickly out of his pockets and blocks it with his hands, pushing back as Drew’s boot touches the mat. He immediately attacks with the other knee but Orange does the same thing, further incensing Drew as he goes to goozle his opponent but Orange leaps out of the way and delivers a kick to the right hip with some actual force behind it. McIntyre winces as Orange unloads with another kick, then goes for a third but that proves to be one trip to the well too many as Drew grabs the leg under his arm and goozles Orange with the other hand and lifts him up, planting him nastily against the mat.
Corey Graves: I guess it’s actually Ultra Orangestink!
Tom Phillips: Nah, not feeling it. You, Mauro?
Mauro Ranallo: Nope.
Corey Graves: Shut up, haters!
As O.C. rolls onto his stomach, Drew looks to go for an Ankle Lock but instead lifts Cassidy up off the mat and turns quickly, swinging Orange violently into the turnbuckle padding. McIntyre releases his grasp as Orange makes impact and finds himself on his side at the bottom of the corner as he props his head up on his left arm and hand and gives Drew his trademark half thumbs up with the other hand. Drew responds to this with a running Punt Kick to the ribs as O.C. finds himself on the middle turnbuckle pad, still lying horizontally as Drew delivers another kick, Cassidy rolling upward to the top, his back to Drew as Drew climbs up the turnbuckle and takes Cassidy into his arms, still horizontally, as he launches him to the center of the ring with a Fallaway Slam.
Tom Phillips: Oh my!
Mauro Ranallo: Mamma Mia what a landing!
Corey Graves: I can guarantee that Freshly Squeezed isn’t peeling good right about now!
Tom Phillips: I didn’t like that one either. Mauro?
Mauro Ranallo: Nope.
Corey Graves: Go to Hell!
McIntyre gets to his feet and crouches down in the corner, already sizing his opponent up for the killshot. Orange gradually starts getting to his feet, unbeknownst that he’s in the UWF Champion’s crosshairs, then Drew charges as Orange gets to a full vertical base. As O.C. turns around, the vicious McIntyre drills him with a devastating Claymore. As Orange looks up at the lights, the daze in his facial expression and eyes, Drew applies the Iron Maiden. O.C. struggles in the hold but as the fans start a, “Freshly Squeezed” chant, a second wind is seen taking over him as he begins fighting toward the ropes.
Tom Phillips: You can do it, Orange!
Mauro Ranallo: Almost there!
Corey Graves: You guys piss all over the whole unbiased journalism thing.
As Cassidy makes it to the ropes, Drew refuses to release the hold as the referee has no choice but to disqualify him.
DING DING!
Tony Chimel: Here is your winner by disqualification, Orange Cassidy!
As McIntyre is still wrenching on the hold and the ref tries to break his grasp but h's no match for the strength of the champion. The crowd comes alive as Kyle O’Reilly sprints to the ring. Drew releases the hold and gets to his feet. Kyle slides in and Drew goes for a Clothesline but Kyle ducks it, hitting the ropes and coming back with a Harpoon Torpedo Knee! Drew gets staggered into the ropes and Kyle runs over and Clotheslines him to the floor below! The crowd is hot and Drew kicks the stairs in anger as Kyle rips the title away from the ref and raises the UWF Championship right in McIntyre's face. He's furious while Kyle starts playing in like an air guitar as the show comes to a close.
END OF SHOW
Credits
Hayter vs WARHORSE - Jye
Cassidy vs McIntyre - Dresden
Reed vs Starks - Fauche
Knight vs Reigns, Spike vs Shark - Danny
