Bad Blood Card

[Dres]

As the capacity UWF crowd awaits what’s next, suddenly the lights go out. After a moment of silence, a familiar voice is heard over the PA system.

”REVERE ME.
FEAR ME.”

As soon as these words are spoken, somber guitar music begins to play as the lights come up to a dark blue hue with smoke covering the stage.



As the vocals of, “Broken Needle” by Marilyn Manson begin, out walks Vinny Marseglia with his axe in his right hand resting on his shoulder as he takes a look to the end of the ramp and into the ring before beginning his walk down it. Once completing his walk, Vinny stops at the bottom of the ramp, lowering his axe to his side as he climbs up onto the ring apron and then steps through the ropes. Vinny walks to the opposite side of the ring now and motions for a microphone as a ringside official grants him one. Vinny now walks to the center of the ring as he raises the microphone he’s been given up to his mouth.

Vinny Marseglia: Bad Blood. I’m stating the obvious here but I can’t think of a more fitting event for us to have our very first clash at than this one, given our obvious differences with each other. But a lot of people are puzzled as to why I, the, “Tattooed Maniac”, would choose a regular wrestling match and not tack on any stipulation. Well think of it as me easing you back into combat, Trevor, letting you ride with the training wheels on for a few laps. Because if this was a stipulated contest, you’d be eaten alive from the word, ‘go’. Me I want this play to last a few acts, take my time, and that means showing restraint, which is something I don’t ordinarily do but you’re a special case. But there’s another reason behind me choosing no stipulation, and it’s because people have forgotten that yours truly can get the job done in a regular singles match.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, don’t think you’re out of the woods just because I’m not allowed to use my axe to butcher you. Your servant, compatriot, disciple, follower, or whatever you want to call Lance will let you know that I can do damage with just my bare hands. That’s what I want to do and that’s what I’m going to do, Trevor. I’m going to get bloodstains all over your platinum soul and you’re going to find yourself thinking that maybe you shouldn’t have taken me up on my offer to come back to the UWF.

Vinny smiles sinisterly as he lowers his microphone and looks to the stage, awaiting the arrival of Trevor Lee.

[Danny]

Live October 8th from the Target Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Deadline
www.timeanddate.com/countdown/wrestling?iso=20231006T12&p0=24&font=cursive&csz=1




UWF Championship
Drew McIntyre(c) vs Sami Zayn




Vinny Marseglia vs Trevor Lee




Intercontinental Championship
Orange Cassidy(c) vs Finn Balor




Kyle O'Reilly vs Tyler Breeze





Prime Time Medal
Jamie Hayter(c) vs Rick Rude




Ricky Starks vs Roman Reigns




Viking Rules
Bronson Reed vs The Mighty Caleb




LA Knight vs WARHORSE

[Fauche]

First its like "whoooeehe whooo" then the dums come in and its like "buh duh duh duhduh duhduh duh" and the riff teases itself like "nya nya nya nya" and the BOOM! Kyle O'Reilly is one the stage!

The Diabetic Dragon's got two fists in punching position as he storms down the ramp, step-sister Bayley in-tow. There's moving in lock-step with LP's tremednous groove. Fans young and old, blonde and brunette, slim and jim are cheering their faces off. This is their guy - the one that's gonna show the fashion model how pro-wrestling is done in the UWF.

Snagging a pair of microphones left for them on the apron, the step-siblings climb the steel stairs, step through the ropes and take control of the ring just as the chorus comes in. O'Reilly paces around, letting it play through before finally signaling to the truck that he's ready to talk trash.



KO'R: I don't know if you guys know this, but I wasn't very good at school.

Classic Kyle, coming out of left field with the opener. Its all good - these are wrestling fans - they probably weren't whiz kids either. They stick with the Human Swiss Army Knife as he continues.

KO'R: Like in science class, I liked disecting stuff but I could never understand all the formulas. Or it history class, I liked all the ancient wars but I could never understand the boring reasons why they were even fighting. Or in math class, I liked spelling words like "BOOB" and "HELL" on the calculator, but I could never figure out long division. Or in English class, I liked -

A little off-mic throat-clear from Bayley snaps Kyle out of his hyper-fixation on list-making to get him back on track.

KO'R: Right. Yeah. So the point is, even now, in pro-wrestling, the sport I've dedicated my whole entire life to and know tonnes about - there's still some things I need to learn. I like doing wicked cool moves and slapping on deadly submissions and scoring KO's, but I can't figure out how a guy can be a wrestler and a super model at the same time, especially after I break every bone between his ears.

It was a bumpy flight to get there, but the crowd white-knuckles it and stays with O'Reilly as he zeroes in on his Bad Blood opponent.

KO'R: I'm not gonna stand out here and tell you that Tyler Breeze isn't a good super model. He's not my type, but that's okay. The world is a beautiful, diverse place and there's room for everybody in it.

On the flip side, pro-wrestling is a jungle and the only law is kill or be killed and there's barely any room for anybody excpet the strongest predators and the prey they haven't hunted down and killed and eaten yet. And that's where Tyler Breeze is - he just hasn't been around long enough to get sniped by a pouncing jaguar or mauled by a hungry, hungry hippo.

Mild pop for the HHH nod.

KO'R: A whole year ago I made my one-on-one pay-per-view debut against Cody Rhodes and everyone thought he was gonna beat me cause he's a legend and I was just some dude. Well I've spent three-hundred-and-sixty-five days proving I'm as ruthless and as dangerous as dangerous and ruthless get, so now the question isn't "Can Kyle win by himself?", its "Will the guy he beats up be able to walk away from the ring by himself without the help of an entire team of paramedics?"

That is the question! And its the one O'Reilly leaves it at as he opens up the floor for Tyler Breeze.

[rawisrey]

Out from behind the curtain emerges Alexa Bliss, the tron behind her turns blue and flashing glimmers cover it as the anticipation grows for the entrance of Prince Pretty.



Alexa Bliss: Ladies and Gentleman, it is now time for all of you to pull out your little cell phones and marvel at the main and only attraction of this evening. Because it is my distinct honor and priviledge to inform all of you...That Tyler Breeze is entering the building.



As Bliss takes a step to one side, Tyler marches out onto the stage before his theme kicks in and he does a spin around to reveal his look to the audience. Almost immediately he turns to the phone in his hand to view himself on the screen, behind him the Giant Omos steps up behind him. Once Breeze begins to walk down the ramp does his entourage begin to follow along with him, until they reach ringside and Breeze pauses to gift the audience another turn of his head towards them so they can view him as Alexa walks around the ring and hops up on the ring apron. Breeze follows over as Bliss twist herself into the ring and jumps up as Breeze spins his legs under the ropes and poses on the ring apron as Bliss leans over the ropes and points down at him. Bliss hops off and Breeze rolls into the ring as Omos climbs up to the ring apron and stands towering there to make his presence known as Breeze goes into one of the corners and kicks his legs up onto the ropes laying back as Bliss hands him a microphone and he begins to speak in a monotone and uninterested voice.



Tyler Breeze: Wow, super, good job, you did great, cool, we're proud of you...

Breeze's eyes kind of half heartedly look at Kyle for a moment as if checking for a certain reaction, he almost seems confused before he turns to Bliss.

What is this exactly?

Bliss cups her hand to Breezes ear and whispers.

Oh...Okay I'm sorry, I've only just now been informed that you're my opponent at Bad Blood. Does that sound right to you? You came out here and started talking about how much of a failure you were even growing up and I kinda just assumed this was some sort of twelve step program for uggos and I was doing some charity work by hearing you out and giving you some words of encouragement. I'm always super really glad to help out those less fortunate than me, but of course you can understand that someone like me is busy so I tend to tune people out once they spend too much time not talking about me. This is actually embarrassing, Lexi just give me the quick rundown on what...whoever... said.

Bliss again moves to his ear and starts talking for an extended time, as Breeze nods to signal he's getting the information, and his eyes slowly drift as his arm raises to hold his phone out and he can see himself.

Uh huh...yeah...what's a Cody?...got it...define that word...no the other word...okay...entire team...Ugh. Boring Much? Where is he from?

Bliss Finishes up her rundown for Breeze and he gets his legs off the ropes to stand up as he looks at Kyle with a look of disgust, looking him up and down.

Wow. That was the literal worst. You came out here, looking like...This...and bored everyone with That. Of course you're Canadian, it's scientifically proven that Canadians lack the proper DNA, to be Super Good Looking...It's a country full of Michael Ceras. And even then you try and add that I'm not your type? That's cute, I'm sure whatever revolting thing that should hide behind a mask you have at home is totally convinced.

Bliss whispers again in Breezes ear.

Ha, he actually wears a mask, that's hilarious. But enough about you, let's talk about something important. Me. Because this is my return to Pay-Per-View, this is where the spotlights are bigger and I get to showcase my Gorgeousness to a wider audience. This is my grand entrance back into the wrestling industry, in a way that I can prove myself for the entire world to see. So of course, when you are rolling out something of this magnitude...You gotta tune things up a bit with lessers. That's, and follow me on this one because you admitted yourself how slow you were in school, where you come in. See all the greatest names in this industry had to start somewhere, the world needs to be reminded of how great Tyler Breeze actually is and so I need a crash pad dummy here to make sure I look good doing my moveset too. You know what that means for you? Royalty checks baby, Royalty checks every time they replay the shot of me knocking you out in promos, titantrons, UWF 2k Showcases, hell you might be in the game whenever I'm the cover star so that they can relive me beating you. I mean that's a sweet gig for you no? Before this you worked your hardest to be the third most important match on a pay-per-view you main evented. So I think it's pretty amazing of me to reach down down DOWN to your level and pull you up to high profile levels like this, You'd probably be a good side kick or punchline guy but thanks to me you'll be That guy Tyler Breeze beat when he started his awe-inspiring return run. I understand if you'd like to thank me now for that, but no need at all...Just kindly leave and let me have the ring, so that everyone can enjoy The Gorgeous One without having to look at you and your...her...DOmos keep an eye on her, she looks like a hugger, and we can't have this Peruvian chinchilla fur wrinkled.

Breeze just motions towards Bayley as he looks back at his phone and prepares to stand in the middle of the ring once Kyle O'Reilly leaves certainly not expecting him to speak up again.

[AndyDNU]

A very mixed response greets the UWF Champion, Drew McIntyre as he walks out on to the stage, accompanied by his business associate Stokely Hathaway. After stopping for a moment to take in the surroundings, both men make their way down the ramp with the champ leading the way. As the Scotsman hops up onto the ring apron and enters the squared circle via the middle ropes, Hathaway heads over to the timekeepers area to pick up a microphone before entering the ring himself via the steel steps whilst McIntyre unclips the UWF Championship from around his waist and climbs to the top of one of the turnbuckle corners before raising the belt high into the air with one arm for nearby phones and cameras to get a good shot of him in all his glory. The music fades out as McIntyre drops back down to the mat and passes the title to Hathaway, who hands over the mic in exchange in order for The Destroyer to share his current thoughts with the capacity crowd.

Drew McIntyre: So when Summerslam was all done and dusted and it was confirmed that the next match for the UWF Title would be Drew McIntyre defending against Sami Zayn, I had thought that the build up would have had a more respectful feel to it than that of my previous title defense, when considering that Zayn and I have shared some common gripes with how business has been conducted in the UWF this year. I found out pretty quickly though that no amount of common ground can change the fact that Zayn is little more than a self-absorbed scumbag who has got no interest in doing anything unless it benefits him and him alone. I get it, we’re not here to make friends in this business, but his refusal to open his eyes and look at the bigger picture has now resulted in him getting very much on the wrong side of the last guy in the locker room that anyone should be looking to piss off.



The crowd watch on with intrigue and a few cheers thrown in as the cold and callous UWF Champion begins to slowly pace around the ring in a circular motion of sorts whilst speaking.

Drew McIntyre: Whether it be through spouting complete and utter bullshit to sports reporters on the hunt for a scoop, or the excessive reliance on masked cronies that are too scared to reveal their true identities to do his dirty work for him, he has become something of an expert in the art of making bad decisions. It does genuinely amaze me at times as to how this man remains the current longest serving member of the Revolution roster, but him lingering around like a bad smell every Thursday night perhaps that says more about EC3’s inability to retain a competent pool of talent than anything else in that regard. What’s apparent to me though is that this fool has spent years trying to elevate himself to that next level and has ultimately fallen as flat as a pancake at every single attempt. Will things be different this time around?... Only in the sense that once I’ve had my fill of him, he’ll be thinking less about how he can re-enter UWF Title contention and more about whether it’s time to give some serious consideration to his retirement options.

That final view from McIntyre draws the biggest pop from the crowd so far, but the Scot appears keen to keep things on track.

Drew McIntyre: Now in no way am I suggesting that getting to that point will be easy. Credit where it’s due, this is a guy that found himself on the losing side of a WarGames encounter and ended up coming out better for it weeks later by earning the number one contendership opportunity, bus far as good fortune goes though, that’s where it ends for Zayn. Because contrary to both what he thinks and what he wants people to believe, there is no outcome in this scenario where he walks out of this match with my UWF Championship to go along with that novelty paper one that he likes to carry around the place. So regardless of whether I have to hit just one Claymore or half a dozen of them, he’ll find out in the same way that Kyle O’Reilly did that this is still very much Drew McIntyre’s UWF, and he’s just lucky to even have a place in it.

Before the crowd can share their feelings on McIntyre’s latest words, they are distracted by the sound of…

[crann]

There's no warning before the iconic piano lick from the Starship classic, "Jane," hits the PA. The fans are nearly rabid, knowing exactly what those opening notes mean, and by the time the blistering guitar cuts in and the Champion of the Intercontinents emerges, the whole house is on its feet. More than a few L'il Oranges are air guitaring in the front row. Cassidy emerges from the back looking as confident as ever, one hand in his pocket (but not in the Alanis kinda way) and the other holding the strap of his backpack. He looks over the crowd, and then puts one finger up as a single pyro lazily pops behind him.



Ya boi, Freshly Squeezed, then heads down the ramp. He's in no hurry and he has no worries, as evidenced by his casual, strolling pace. When he gets to the bottom of the ramp, he approaches one of many L'il Oranges and extends the coveted fist for the laziest bump known to man. Then he heads toward the squared circle, slides his backpack under the bottom rope, and rolls in after it, before rising to one knee, then to his feet, and dragging the sack across the ring. Orange kicks it back against the ropes on the timekeeper's side, staring up the ramp at the 'tron as he is handed a microphone. His music very slowly decreases in volume, until it has faded completely out. The tension in the room is thicker than a Snickers. And then, he lifts the microphone and opens his mouth to speak.

Orange Cassidy: Hey.

The one word draws a massive pop from the capacity crowd. They're all happy to see the Champion of the Intercontinents at the top of his game, in the finest form. Orange looks down at the backpack containing his title, then back up to the 'tron, then out over the stands. He nods, and then continues.

I'm not going to waste anyone's time, least of all mine, because time is valuable and the Best Friends and I have a couple of seasons of Only Murders in the Building to binge before we can watch the new one. So let's get right to the point. You all know why I'm here: Some new, smarmy slimeball and his gang of misfits are gunning for my championship. This time, it's a man who is already a champion, though admittedly a lesser champion than me. Finn Balor, the Don of the Revolution Mafia. See, Finn there, the Irish Invader, if you will – he has got it in his head that he deserves to be Two-Belt Balor. That somehow, he runs the locker room because he runs a gaggle of guys and one girl. And you know, that would almost be true if it weren't for the fact that I'm in the locker room. Which I guess is what this match is really all about, isn't it?

Orange's meandering monologue has the fans buzzing. What's he driving at? Where's he going with this? Everyone is sitting forward in their seats.

A man like Finn can't command respect if men like me stand in his way. And he definitely can't command respect without the most important championship in all of the professional wrestling business. That's why he's become the latest in a long line of guys who are just itching to take the Championship of the Intercontinents away from me, its rightful holder, the man who is single-handedly restoring all the honor to the title because my other hand is in my pocket.

It's true. His free hand is in his pocket.

Finn probably thinks he is at the advantage because he surrounds himself with barely competent friends. Guys like Dominik Mid-Tier-io, who could be so much better on his own. Still mid, but at least he wouldn't have to go to Hot Topic for an outfit. Or guys like Damien Priest. I was going to try to come up with a clever insult for him, but if I'm being honest, the man insults himself just by existing. I mean seriously. Who wears that much guyliner? The worst of all of them is DiaRhea Ripcord. Seriously. She needs to get some fiber in her diet or something, because she stinks.

Cassidy lazily waves his hand in front of his face like he's swatting away an undesirable smell as the L'il Oranges laugh. Poop jokes are childish, but many of his fans are actual kids.

But then we come to the king at the top of the mountain. Finn Fail-or. Let me give you some advice, Mr. Don: you shouldn't bother showing up for this match, because you're no match for the life-changing power of Vitamin C. If L.A. Knight couldn't beat me, and WARHORSE couldn't beat me, and Drew McIntyre couldn't beat me, do you really think you stand a chance? We're not even going to be fighting on cable TV, so it's not like the prestige of your title is on the line or anything. But know that if you do come out here, you do trade words with me, and you do show up for our contest, you're going to get the best that I have to give. And you're just not ready for that. You should spend a little more time beating up the newest scrubs from the independents before you try to take on the Champion of the Intercontinents.

The confident words of the champion draw a big pop from the crowd, who start chanting "Freshly Squeezed" until...

[willybounce]

As the crowd continues their chants of “Freshly Squeezed” the lights fade to black around the arena and white spotlights circle around the arena. The sound of a deep breath is heard around the arena before the beat drops and begins to sound around the arena. Finn Balor walks out from behind the curtain and onto his stage wearing a blue colored jacket and blue ring gear and his UWF Television Championship over his shoulder and a microphone in hand. Balor walks out bopping his head to the beat of his entrance music as he has a smirk on his face. While trailing behind him are the remaining members of The Mafia Damian Priest, Rhea Ripley, and Mafia Dom.

Finn Balor decides to send The members of the Mafia backstage as they all look at him shocked but he just nods and before turning his attention to Orange Cassidy with a smile on his face.



Finn Balor
I see you’ve got jokes but even your stupid nicknames or punch lines couldn’t get under my skin because finally the day has come for me to show everybody just who Finn Balor is. Now don't get me wrong I appreciate being the Television Champion and bringing this championship to new heights, but I’ve got two shoulders so why not add another championship to my other shoulder am I right?

Finn Balor fixes his championship on his shoulder while he makes his way down the ramp..

Finn Balor
And It couldn’t have come at a better time if you ask me, because I finally get to step toe to toe with The Champion of The Intercontinents, Orange Cassidy! I admit you've been on one hell of a run since arriving on the scene. You’ve defeated Warhorse, LA Knight, and even cashed in the Prime Time Medal to face and beat MJF for the Intercontinental Championship not once, but twice. All of whom are people who defeated me, then to top it off you managed to get a lucky one against The UWF Champion, Drew Mcintyre.

The crowd begins to cheer as Finn Balor lists off some of Orange Cassidy’s accomplishments. He waits patiently for the cheers to die down before he continues to speak

Finn Balor
Other than that, I have nothing good to say about you Orange Cassidy because I don’t like you! I hate the way you just walk through thinking you’re some big shot. I hate the way you wear those stupid sunglasses indoors. I hate the fact that you think you’re so chill all of the time and never let anything get under your skin. I hate those stupid denim joggers you wrestle in and that stupid denim jacket and the way you keep your hands in your pockets as if you’re so cool.

The crowd immediatelly change their cheers into boos as Balor begins to go on his rant about all of the things he hates about Orange Cassidy.

Finn Balor
You can make jokes all you want and have the crowd say your little “Freshly Squeezed” catchphrase but the truth of the matter is I can't wait to fight you Orange Cassidy. I can't wait to slap those silly little glasses off your face and finally send you into the shadows to never be seen again just as I’ve done plenty of times before. You’ve faced many before me that have fallen to the feet of the champion of the intercontinents but none of them could ever be me cause as far as I’m concerned you haven't put me down yet. So bring your all, bring your bestfriends, bring your vitamin c and bring your Intercontinental Championship you’ll still fall. Then everybody will have no choice but to respect me as I stand tall as both The UWF Television Champion and The Intercontinental Champion…

It seems as if the Champion of Inter continents has heard enough as Finn Balor is stopped before he could proceed to say another word.

[Fauche]

All that dag nasty trash talk from Prince Pretty has struck a nerve with the Diabetic Dragon, which admittedly isn't that hard to do, but it looks like things are about to fly off the rails now.

KO'R: Yeah... well... that's a real cool outfit you got there. It would be a shame if every last drop of blood in your body was all over it!

Kyle steps towards Breeze like he's about to drain the guy dry. Even before Tyler's enormous back-up has a chance to intervene, Bayley pulls her step-brother back, stopping him from getting things started early. Off-mic, she tells him to go through all those breathing exercises he mastered back in youth therapy, saying that she'll take it from here.

And take it she does! Cause even though The "Good Guy" just spared the Super Model from a surefire massacre, she's looking like she's ready to slice and dice him verbally.

Bayley: Boy you sure are somethin, huh? All quips and diggs and BIG OL' PLANS for the afterparty, treating my step-brother here like he's just some stupid little joke.

She looks back over her shoulder at Kyle, checking to see how he's doing before continuing.

Bayley: Clearly ya pushed some buttons there - it might have been the shot at his husband, or the Canadian racism. I dunno. Honestly, just between us, he's kinda hot-headed. A bit tempermental. Which is a real shame for you cause up until about, oooohhhhhh...

She looks down at her wrist like there's a watch there.

Bayley: Lets say ninety seconds ago, he didn't really have much of a reason to rip your arms off and beat you over the head with them. And now he does. Just like that. It happens so fast.

You'll have to forgive me for not being surpised by that, or if I don't take your little pokes and jabs too personally. It sounds like you and Miss Sloppy Seconds over there practiced really hard backstage to get all the pronounciations just right.

Its just... the thing is... we've done this before, me and Kyle. We've been the ones to roll out the welcome mat for the new kid on the block a few times over and its always the same song and dance from you guys, like UWF Developmental pumps you pull of unearned confidence and then you barge through the front door with these grand ambitions of lighting the world on fire. In the end, you mostly all just end up being flashes in the pan.



Bayley: It feels like just yesterday we had Will Ospreay standing right where you are now, shouting in that ridiculous accent about how he was gonna embarras Kyle. Then we had to go through it all over again with MJF in the King of the Ring, which my step-bro won, by the way. And yeah, yeah, I know, I'm sure if you were there, you woulda been the one to take the crown home. Great. Good for you. We get it. You're the greatest of all time, you just haven't had a chance to show it yet, nobody's beaten you since you came back, you're unstoppable, you're gonna win all the titles and go down as the G-O-A-T.

Bayley claps her free hand to the microphone, offering the most sardonic applause possible.

Bayley: If a weasel-faced twink like you can convince himself he's attractive, no big shocker than you're convinced you're the next Dean Ambrose, too. But me and Kyle? We do business in the real world, and you know what? It ain't always pretty. We don't always win. But we're getting pretty damn good at exposing the one-and-done flakes like you who weren't built to last in the toughest sport in the world.

Bayley points back towards her step-brother, who's just friggin scowling at Breeze now.

Bayley: Look at him. Take a good look, and before you clap back with some wise-ass remark about how you'd run laps around him in a beauty pageant, keep in mind that that's the guy who's caused more injuries to opponents than anyone else on the roster, cause he's an absolute maniac in this ring. People always talk about "finding things out the hard way", well pal, this is gonna a "hard way" clinic.

If you're too lazy or disintersted to brace yourself for that, I think Alexa here is gonna be shopping for Bachelor Number Three real quick.

Bayley ends it there - with a nod towards Bliss and a "Oooooh" from that crowd. She steps back to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Kyle again.

[rawisrey]

Once Bayley steps back, there's a moment of silence amidst the competitors. This is when all the attention is drawn to the apron as Omos pushes down on the top rope and swings his leg into the ring, stepping over the ropes easily and entering the ring. Once he's in some in the crowd immediately stand up, thinking things are about to go down and they are going to see this giant in action for the first time. Omos clenches his fist and with a loud smack that cracks loudly off microphone, brings his fist into his open baseball mitt sized hand. Bliss takes a step forward and raises her microphone to speak in a very condescending tone.



Alexa Bliss: Bayley, sweetums, I appreciate the fire your brother has and all... But I'd recommend you keep him cool and collected until Bad Blood because if he decides to jump the line and attack outside of a professional capacity, he will be rendered useless by Tyler Breezes personal colossuses. And yes Kyle, I'm sure you'll say you'll cut anyone down to size and you're not afraid, but keep the cutesy stuff to your inspiring if not pedantic lil speeches because Tyler Breeze gains nothing from you being hit with a dose of reality from Omos here.

Omos just nods his head as he stares down at O'Reilly across the ring, ready to step in should he come forward. Bliss puts a hand up and motions for Omos to take one step back, which he does. The sight of Lil Miss Bliss completely in charge of this giant is almost bizarre, but she's not done showing who is in charge as she turns back to speaking to Bayley and Kyle.

But while I'm on the subject of reality, it seems amusing to me that you two don't even recognize the reality of your own situation. Bayley here is quick to bring up how Kyle O'Reilly has become the welcoming committee around here, and yet you still talk a big game. As if you don't actually realize that there's a reason someone like Kyle here is used to face new superstars, and people like Drew McIntyre are World Champion. You're a tune up, a tester, the man management wants to see face their new superstars because once they get past you they can move on to Important things. But if they can't get past you, they know not to really waste their time unless they can recover from it, that's how really little you matter in the grand scheme of things. I find it amusing you don't seem to realize this position, because you two were the ones who asked for this match with Tyler, I just assumed you two were learning your places around here and diligently taking your turn to face the new guy. Funny though, this new guy isn't new at all. He's been in UWF before, he's succeeded in UWF before, but back then before we had the people in charge we do now...Management didn't see the potential he had, they didn't believe him a frontrunner for the Rumble, they didn't trust him to carry a show, they just thought of him as a Fun act that wasn't supposed to be successful.

Bliss pauses and gives a snively look at Kyle.

Kind of like this comedy act sidekick right here, So Tyler decided he wasn't going to waste his time not being respected for what he can do and he left. Now under new management, with opportunity there for the taking, Tyler Breeze is out to prove something. And that's where you come in Kyle, see all you are is a technical machine. You have all the skill in the world, but all that skill failed when it truly mattered most. And do you know why? I can tell you, because it's exactly how you're going to fail at Bad Blood. You are a manual that can be read, with Kyle it's what you see is what you get, you will move forward no matter what and it is that very reason you moved forward right into three straight claymores. You're easy to figure out, and guess what, you're easily manipulated too. In a matter of a few words actually directed your way, without a care in the world Tyler raised your ire and got you ready to attack without even worrying about your surroundings. And as you stand there, trying to control your breathing, you look at him and think him a pretty face you're going to smash. Not even realizing the technical training he's gone through, the ability he has, and that's the difference. You show off all your "cool moves" and make them easy to look out for, while Tyler here shows you one thing and delivers another. And it's so damn easy, that I can tell you it's happening to your face, and it'll still happen. Now THAT...That is true power, and a lesson I can't wait for you both to learn. Because after Bad Blood, when you go back to fighting whatever new kid on the block comes around, Tyler Breeze will be moving on to bigger and better things.

Bliss smirks a smug smile before Breeze steps up and raises his own microphone, looking over at Bayley with almost a quizzical look as if to say he appreciates what she said but-



Tyler Breeze: Listen up Berenice and listen close, because this may very well be the last time someone as Gorgeous as me ever acknowledges you. You can try and butter me up all you want by stating that I am the greatest of all time, which, Duh. And that I'm Unstoppable, again major Duh. And Calling me attractive, which wins the Duh award for biggest Duh statement in the history of the universe. But sneaking all those truths before your lies isn't gonna convince me to add you to my Breezetourage sweetcakes so you might as well quit while you're ahead. All this talk about me trying to convince anyone of anything, is Awfully big talk from someone who has convinced themselves That was a good haircut.

Breeze puts a hand up, clearly asking Bayley to talk to it as his eyes move to O'Reilly.

And you, Kenny, are you not only Ugly...but are you Deaf? I told you to get out of my ring because your uggo services are no longer required out here. Since your lil step cousin or whatever is doing the talking, do us all a huge favor and hide that disgusting visage of yours like your hubby is Smart enough to do himself so that we're not all constantly distracted by your uggoness and we can go back to being distracted by my Gorgeousness. It's bad enough I'm gonna have to see you in this ring for our match, do something useful for once and give my precious beautiful little eyeballs a rest. Oh wait but once more thing since you complimented my ensemble allow me to return the favor. It's absolutely hideous what you're wearing, of course, but at least it has function so I'm even going to suggest you bring it to the ring during our match as well. That way, you can put that hood up to hide your face until I'm ready to beat you. Sound good? Peachy.

Breeze once again completely dismisses Kyle, and looks back at his phone. Not clear if he's completely oblivious, if he believes in himself that much, or if he's brave with Omos in the ring, either way the rest of the world seems to melt away as he starts to make kissy faces up at his phone.

[mattchewie]

Rude and Bischoff waste no time getting into the ring.  Bischoff procures both of them a microphone and gets started immediately.
Bischoff: Ya know…I kind of hate to be in your position, Jamie. You’re the first obstacle in my client’s path to redemption. That is not a healthy position to be in, dear. Oh, wait…I shouldn’t have said it that way, I don’t want to give you any ammunition to come out here and assault my client’s or my own age!

Bischoff makes a shocked expression and looks over to Rude, who hasn’t even moved a muscle. Bischoff continues.

Bischoff: What I wouldn’t give to have Scott here right now. His little spooky fingers would have fit in perfectly right there! ANYWAYS…I truly feel bad for you, Jamie. It’s your final defense of the medal, and it has to be against “Ravishing” Rick Rude. To be fair, it’s a bit like the deck has been stacked against you completely! I mean, the question that you need to ask yourself is simply this: Is EC3 trying to make sure that you don’t get to challenge for that Intercontinental title?
Let’s line up the facts here…you will be defending this medal in my client’s home state, practically in his hometown! I mean, Robbinsdale is just a few miles down the road!

Bischoff gets cut off by the cheers of the crowd.

Bischoff: Let’s not forget the fact that EC3 declined to renew Rick’s rematch clause. So, let’s chalk that one up for another way that the deck is stacked against you. I would keep going, but I believe you’ve got the picture by this point. I don’t know though, you know what they say about blondes.


Bischoff shrugs as the crowd starts an “Asshole” chant.

Bischoff: You know how much I have missed that?! You guys used to give me that chant any time that I came out here! I’m starting to feel as if you really did miss me all this time! Anyways, back to you Jamie. I feel as if you truly don’t know who it is that you’re facing with that Prime Time Medal on the line. Sure, you may know that he set the record for holding the Intercontinental title for this company. Sure, you may know that he was a former member of the nWo here in the UWF. Sure, you may know that he is a smug and arrogant man. But what you fail to realize is just what sets him apart from the run of the mill talent here in the UWF. I could run through every single one of his opponents from the past and I could hit you with every single statistic that there is on “Ravishing” Rick Rude, but I know that all that will allow you to do is to claim that you’re some exception to those statistics or whatever bullshit reason or excuse that you could possibly come up with would be. I could also–


Rude holds up a hand to Bischoff to cut him off. Rude slowly gathers himself and raises the microphone to his face.

Rude: I can openly admit that it has taken me a few weeks to get back into the swing of things here. A few years ago, I would have mopped the floor with Tyler Breeze. However, a few years out of the ring and I allowed him to sneak in that win over me. Alas, it doesn’t really matter. As I’ve said time and time again, the best generals are only concerned with who wins the war at the end of the day…the minor incursions don’t really add up to much. So, Jamie…allow me to inform you of what you really are up against. There was a time a few years ago, in which I was referred to as The Franchise of the UWF. Allow me to reassure these fans, as well as you, that is the standard that I fully intend on setting once again.
Jamie, that title doesn’t just get thrown around to anyone. I was the golden standard for this company at one point in time, and I will be again. Once I make quick work of you, that is. I’ve seen the competition that this company has to offer, and it has me just a bit saddened by it. Saddened, simply because of how quickly it will take me to rise to the top yet again. There will be no struggle to it, at all.

Rude sighs and brushes his hand over his mustache before continuing.

Rude: Two hundred and thirty days. I’d say you haven’t even had relationships to last that long or hell, even held a job that long. Why do I even bring that up? Simply because that is the amount of time I spent holding that Intercontinental title while being the measuring stick for this company. EC3, Austin, whoever the hell else was in charge during that time would throw guys up against me just to see if they could hang with me. Obviously, they couldn’t beat me but if they impressed the powers that be enough, then they would just find themselves going up against the world champion after that. So yeah, I’m a braggart, but I’ve got a damn good reason to be one.
I’m not expecting you to fear stepping foot into the ring with me. Quite frankly, I don’t think you’re intelligent enough to even comprehend that it would be a wise fear to have. At any rate, I just need you to know that I’ve beaten much better wrestlers than you over the years and I’ve exhausted much less effort in doing so than what will be needed to take that medal off of your hands. It’s nothing personal, sweetheart. You’re just the means to an end. I wasn’t offered my rematch clause, so i was told that I needed to work my way back up to where I was a few years ago. I’m a patient man, and I have no problem kicking whatever ass that falls in front of me on my way back up to the top of this company. Even if it is a pretty little ass such as yours.

Rude takes a slow turn, scanning over every member of the audience.

Rude: Looking out into this crowd tonight, I see the thousands of faces that have had to suffer through the years without Rick Rude being on this roster or in this ring over the years. I see all of the faces that have had to sit by and suffer as they watch your matches or your promos. Don’t worry, sweetcheeks…I may end up teaching you a thing or two while I’ve got you in the ring.
Knowing you, you’re probably back there just trying to figure out how you’re going to be able to step out here and even hold your own with me, even if it is just holding your own while speaking with me. Also, knowing you…you’re probably going to sit back there and wait until the last minute before you even attempt to make a response back to me. If so, I’d just like to remind these people that I made my attempt at being professional in a timely manner, unlike my opponent who apparently likes to drag her feet and wait until the very last second to make an appearance.

Rude looks at his watch and smirks, then turns back to the camera.

Rude: Jamie, I’m going to give you one opportunity to come out here and address me with the appropriate level of respect. Otherwise, I cannot be held accountable for what I’ll be forced to do to you in order to teach that respect to you.
While I’m sure a strong, independent woman such as yourself doesn’t need my permission to do that, it’s more of a suggestion at this point.