Post by Danny on Aug 16, 2024 18:43:39 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 my partners Tom Phillips and former International Champion Corey Graves.
Tom Phillips: Last week, Chris Adonis ended up costing Shinsuke Nakamura the Prime Time Medal and now he might have to pay the price as the two go one on one in our main event.
Corey Graves: That goof just singed his own death warrant.
Mauro Ranallo: Speaking of, the new Prime Time Medalist Vincent looks to make his first defense when he takes on Finn Balor in what's sure to be a great match.
Tom Phillips: Plus Tony D'Angelo takes on The Mighty Caleb and Eddie Guerrero takes on Rick Rude.
Mauro Ranallo: But first newcomer Andre Chase will look to make his debut against Randy Orton. Let's head down to the ring for the first match of the night.
Andre Chase and Duke Hudson make their way out from the back with Duke holding up the Chase U banner.
Tony Chimel: Making his way to the ring accompanied by Duke Hudson, weighing in at 216 pounds, Andre Chase!
The duo comes into the ring and wave the banner before waiting for The Professor's opponent.
“Voices” begin to play as the fans rise to their feet. The viper eyes flash on the screen as out walks Randy Orton. He stands at the top of the ramp looking out into the sea of the crowd. He wipes his nose with the side of his knuckle. He walks down the ramp towards the ring with true purpose.
Tony Chimel: On his way to the ring, weighing in at 250 pounds…from St. Louis, Missouri….He is the Apex Predator…RANDY ORTON!
Orton stomps up the steps and climbs into the ring. He immediately shoots to a corner and jumps to the second turnbuckle to raise his arms in a pose that has become synonymous with The Viper. He holds there as the music fades and he drops from the turnbuckle and turns inward toward the center of the ring.
VS 
DING DING DING!
Andre comes up to Orton, looking to lock up with the MITB participant but Randy just leans back in his corner, not seeing Chase as worth his time. Andre turns to Duke and tells him that Orton's scared. He tells him this is a good teaching moment to see how nepo wrestlers think they don't need to try but he gets clobbered from behind by Randy with a Clothesline to the back of the head! Orton puts the boots to him but Chase ends up rolling out of the ring.
Orton gives chase to him on the outside and clubs him in the back a few times causing him to retreat to the announce table. Orton smashes his head over it before taking the protective covering off of it. He grabs The Professor and lifts him up high for a Back Suplex on the announce table!
Tom Phillips: Looks like Orton may be showing Duke what an actual teacher is.
Corey Graves: You ever hear the phrase those you can't, teach?
Mauro Ranallo: But how many great coaches were all star players? Sometimes it takes some outside perspective to really grasp at the nuances of wrestling.
Corey Graves: All the good that's going to do him when he's in the ring with a Hall of Famer like Orton.
Duke tries to check on Andre but Orton shoves him out of the way. Randy throws Andre back into the ring while he and Duke stare at one another. Orton practically dares him to lay a finger on him but Hudson backs off, not wanting to cost his teacher the match. Orton goes to climb back into the ring through the ropes as Chase is getting to his feet but Andre runs over and kicks the middle rope, racking the second generation star! He pulls Orton away into an Inside cradle!
1 . . .
2 . . .
Orton kicks out! He tries to get to his feet quickly but gets Dropkicked by Chase. Orton rolls to the corner and picks himself up. Andre runs at him but Orton gets the boot up. The professor however knew this and manages to catch the boot. He puts it over his shoulder before dropping to his knees, hyperextending the knee! Orton reaches down for it but Chase climbs to the middle rope over him and rains down the punches, the crowd chanting along with each hit. He stops before the 120th punch, soaking in the crowd before laying the last punch in. He drops down and Orton walks along the ropes hobbled and dazed. Andre throws up the Chase U sign and the fans do the same.
Mauro Ranallo: Looks like Andre Chase has managed to get this crowd behind him.
Corey Graves: These people love idiots like him but we all saw how that worked out for people like WARHORSE.
Tom Phillips: By winning MITB and almost becoming UWF Champion?
Corey Graves: But failing.
Andre turns back to face Orton but walks right into a Spinebuster! The Viper stomps on the mat a few times, trying to get feeling in his knee. He walks around The Professor and begins the infamously boring signature move of stomping on every body part. Any enthusiasm the crowd had dies as Orton "methodically" takes apart Chase. Andre goes to crawl towards the ropes but Orton grabs his foot and shakes his head no. Chase manages to turn around and pulls him in before kicking him off. He gets to his feet but Orton comes after him and eats a Back Elbow for his troubles that sends him back a few steps. Chase runs at him but gets caught with a snap Powerslam into the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
Chase kicks out! Orton grabs him by his hair and pulls him up. The ref gets on him for this but he ignores him. Chase ends up stomping down on his foot to break free before giving him a few punches to the gut. He then delivers a Russian Leg Sweep! Duke is clapping for him on the outside and gets the crowd going to hype him up. Chase crawls to the ropes and picks himself up just as Orton does the same. They meet at the center of the ring and trade rights. Andre uses the momentum of the crowd to get the better of the exchange backing Orton into the ropes but Randy gives him a Knee to the gut to cut off any momentum. Orton looks over at Duke and points to him, telling him his teacher is worthless but while he's jacking his jaw, Chase pops up and hits the Flatliner!
1 . . .
2 . . .
Orton kicks out!
Mauro Ranallo: The Professor took his eye off the ball to start this match and now Orton does the same and it almost cost him.
Tom Phillips: Look like the teachers have some stuff to still learn themselves.
Corey Graves: Why would anyone ever go to some no known loser to teach them about wrestling? At least Orton is a 3rd generation wrestler with immense success in this business.
Chase gets to his feet and hypes himself up. He picks up Orton and grabs both arms, setting him up for a very Teachable Moment but Orton stands up giving him a Back Body Drop! Both men end up getting to their feet at about the same time. They run at each other but Randy leaps up for the Thez Press but Chase scouted it, dropping down to extend a knee into an Atomic Drop! Orton rolls around on the mat holding his junk. Chase is hyped and goes up to the top rope. He looks out to the crowd and Duke who are all cheering him on. Orton is getting to his feet so he leaps off with the Diving Crossbody but Orton catches him with an RKO on the way down! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, Randy Orton!
Chase rolls out of the ring and Hudson checks on him. Brekker and Anderson come into the ring and laugh at him and his choice for a teacher. Orton simply walks off, heading to the back as the show moves on.
The feed cuts to black and white as an image flashes across the screen.
The feed then cuts to the nWo locker room. Bischoff is angrily typing away on a laptop, Kyle is aggressively squeezing one of those grippy workout squeeze things, Bayley is watching Rude do a few pre-match warmups with a glisten in her adoring eyes. All appears to be kosher, until an angry knock is heard on the door.
Muffled Voice: Open the fuggin door!
All that are present each share a surprised look. Rude kips up from doing a few sit ups.
Rude: Anyone expecting company tonight?
Bischoff: I’m not expecting anyone, are either of you?
Bayley: Nope. Not me.
Kyle: No but maybe its a vampire. Ya know, like Dracula. Remember they gotta ask to be let in though so if they ask just say “no”. Unless its Dracula from Blade Trinity cause I don’t think -
Another knock, well, more like a pounding on the door occurs. Rude wipes his hands and walks to the locker room door to open it. Rude turns to look at the others, says a silent prayer while crossing himself. He turns the handle and slowly opens the door. The camera pans to show his reaction, which is of pure shock.
Bayley: Who is it?!?
Bischoff: Are you just going to stand there and not let them in?
Rude takes a step back and allows the person at the door to enter the locker room.
Bischoff: Scotty!
Bayley: Oh, no.
Steiner: BIG POPPA PUMP IS YOUR HOOKUP, HOLLER IF YA HEAR ME!
Rude: Scotty, I haven’t seen you in forever! What brings you by?
Bayley: Perchance a mass email?
Kyle: It wasn’t that big of an email…
Scotty: Ya know, ladies…they appreciate size. Size does matter, BITCH!
Bayley: And we’re already off the rails.
Bischoff senses that things are about to spiral into chaos, so he attempts course correction by interjecting.
Bischoff: Scotty, how about you offer some insight or inspirational messages for Kyle and Rude on their upcoming big matches at Summerslam?
Steiner: Ya know the man with the largest erms in da worl’ can lay down some pretty damn good speeches. After all, I do hail from a highly educated university! Alright, so who we got, boys?
Steiner takes a second to pose in front of the large mirror inside the locker room.
Bischoff: Well, Kyle is finding himself facing off against Seth Rollins for the Intercontinental title and-
Steiner: Who the hell is Kyle?
Bayley’s look of disgust couldn’t be anymore apparent and Kyle’s look of pure shock is evident as well. Kyle simply raises his hand to wave at Steiner. Steiner seems to recognize Kyle and throws up a nod in his direction, then looks at Bayley while puffing out a bicep for her.
Steiner: Ay, baby you ever seen arms like these? Speaking of, who’s the trick?
Bischoff, Rude, and Kyle all do a face palm at this.
Bayley: Trick?!
Rude: Easy, Scotty. She’s with me. And she’s Kyle’s stepsister.
Steiner: My bad, Rick. So, listen..Kyle. You’ve gotta beat that punk Rollins to a pulp and bring that title back here with you when you’re done. If I was you, I’d polish him off with a Frankensteiner for the win.
Kyle: Oh, dude. I usually use a Hurrican–
Reality sets in for Kyle on the third syllable.
Kyle: A Frankensteiner, eh? I definitely could pull out one of those.
Steiner: What about you, Rick. What you got comin’ up?
More flexing in Bayley’s direction.
Bischoff: Rick is in the Money in the Bank ladder match. He’ll be–
Steiner: See, the ladies already know that Big Poppa Pump has got the money in the bank. All’s I gotta do is–
Bischoff: Where he will be facing off against Vincent, Drew McIntyre, Randy Orton, Tommasso Ciampa, and The Mighty Caleb.
Steiner studies Bischoff for a second, gathering his thoughts, looking a bit lost.
Steiner: Vincet… Marseglia? he’s that psycho that has the hair that looks like if a black kid owned a Chia Pet, right?
Bayley: There goes a few sponsorships.
Steiner: Orton shouldn’t be a problem, Rick took him down. Chimpa, or whatever his name is should be a cake walk. McDonalds, or Macbeth or however you say that scottish bastard’s name may pose a bit of concern for Rick, but I’ve got all the faith in the world that he’ll win it all.
Rude lets out a slight chuckle.
Rude: Well, Scotty, while I appreciate the support…you did leave someone out. The Mighty Caleb?
Steiner: HE’S FAT!!
Rude: Ah, ok. Nice to know just where your opinion stands on him. I’ll definitely take that into consideration while I’m weighing my chances for this match.
Kyle looks up like a deer in headlights to Steiner. He gets a wicked grin, as if he is reading Steiner’s mind.
Steiner: You wanna talk about chances? Huh? The way I see it is Rick’s got a 43% chance of winning this match!
Bischoff: Dear God in Heaven…
Steiner: But the rest of the guys in this match, they’ve only got about an 8.6% chance of winnin’. You see–
Bayley: Ok! I think we’re done here! These two have matches to prep for! Scott it was….nice to meet you!
Bayley quickly stands up and begins ushering Scott towards the door, who is still spouting off percentages and deductions to said percentages in the match. Bayley quickly shuts the door once Scott has left the locker room, yet Scott is still spouting off percentages in the hallway outside.
Bayley: Of all the people, why did you have to email him? Seriously, Kyle?!
Kyle: He actually went into statistics on Rick’s match!
Bayley: Not to mention a racially insensitive comment as well as a rude comment about Caleb’s weight!
Bischoff: To be fair, Kyle didn’t get his email address on his own. He asked for my distribution list, so I gave it to him. So part of the blame is on me, Bayley.
Rude: He had me a bit worried at that 43% comment at first.
Kyle is still doing the math in his head.
Bayley: Bisch’, I’m going to need to see your distribution list. I’m already going to be sending emails out AGAIN canceling whatever Kyle already has put in place.
KO’R: You should just be glad it wasn’t a vampire after all.
Bischoff: Wait… don’t tell me you hit up Vampiro.
KO’R: Of course not…
Bischoff: Thank God cause -
KO’R: Mighta DM’d Kevin Thornn, though.
Bayley: Great. Looking forward to meeting him and whatever has-beens come crawling outta the woodwork looking for a quick paycheque.
And who even knows who that might be! You’ll have to tune in next time to find out, folks. In the meantime, Revolution rolls on!
The broadcast brings us to the ring where a table and some lounging chairs have been arrayed, a contract sat on the table and awaiting the signatures of two of the UWF’s hottest up-and-coming talents. The crowd is buzzing, anticipating the arrival of the Bristol-Born Bastard, but it’s the other bastard they get first as Malevolence’s “Self-Supremacy” splits the air, booming loudly across the PA as the ‘tron comes to life with one word:
DEMPSEY
The crowd is none too happy with this imposition, nor the subtle nod of the ‘tron to a vanquished rival from the recent past, but the Blackpool Bastard emerges from the back with a smirk on his face nonetheless, stopping at the top of the ramp to pose with fists raised as his father emerges on his flank. The pair then descend to the ring, purely businesslike in demeanour, ignoring the jeering fans.
When they enter the ring, Dempsey immediately falls into one of the seats, but Regal stays on his feet and retrieves a microphone from an inside pocket of his jacket to address the fans and his son’s Summerslam opponent.
William Regal: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this week’s edition of Revolution and, perhaps more importantly, the most circumstantial contract signing you will witness in this modern era of the UWF. You see, it might not seem like the match that this contract makes official is a major one. Certainly not, on a night in which six of the biggest stars in this business will compete for the Money in the Bank briefcase, and all three major singles titles will be defended. But you would be mistaken if you think that this contest is anything other than a showcase for the future of the UWF — my son, Charlie Dempsey.
Regal begins to pace in front of the table on which the contract rests.
Now, I know what you all were expecting when you heard my boy’s music. You assumed that we would parade ourselves down this ramp, enter this ring and gloat about Charlie’s triumphant victory over the Intercontinental Champion. And while, under ordinary circumstances, I would be only too proud to do so — I don’t see a victory over Kyle O’Reilly worthy of a brag. Don’t get my words mistaken for a lack of pride in Charlie, however. My son showed every bit of the killer instinct I’ve spent years coaching into him. But executing a man who is clearly not at the top of his own game? That is not much of an achievement. It is like beating a cripple in a foot race.
Regal’s obvious prejudice against the differently abled draws some heat from the KC crowd, but he keeps on rolling.
In any case, the past is the past, and our focus has returned once more to the man who cannot help but bring misfortune on himself. Leyton Buzzard. Now, Mr. Buzzard, I promised you that my son would not harm you during this contract signing, and indeed, would not touch you until Summerslam itself. And I am a man of my word. I hope such a promise will help you best your base nature and overcome your cowardice to come out here and do what must be done.
The crowd’s anticipation reaches a fever pitch as William Regal’s words hang in the air. The fans begin to chant, urging Leyton Buzzard to come out and face his fate. The lights dim, and the familiar sound of "Requiem Of The Fifth" echoes through the arena. The crowd erupts as Leyton Buzzard makes his entrance, his usual confidence tempered by the high stakes of the moment.
Buzzard marches down the ramp, his eyes locked on the ring where Charlie Dempsey sits with a smirk, and Regal stands with an air of superiority. Buzzard slides into the ring, never breaking eye contact with Dempsey. He walks over to the table and grabs a microphone, taking a deep breath before addressing the father-son duo.
Leyton Buzzard
“Regal. Here I am, just like you wanted. So before I break our pact let’s get this contract signed…”
Buzzard leans forward going to pick up a pen but he catches a sly smirk on the face of Dempsey. Buzzard chuckles, almost offended by Dempsey's disrespect…
“Dempsey... I see you’re looking real comfortable there, but don’t get too cozy. I can see you’re feeling comfortable because Regal made arrangements to make sure his protege made it to Summerslam with limbs intact. Regal made me a promise, He said you wouldn’t lay a finger on me, At first I didn’t believe what he was saying. And you know what? I believe your father, He is a man who likes to play by his own rules and knows this business better than anyone.”
Buzzard looks down at the contract on the table, then back up at Dempsey. His voice takes on a more serious tone
“But before I sign this, let me make one thing clear: you might’ve taken down Kyle O’Reilly, I watched and I am not proud to say this from an enlightened place. I had hoped that Kyle would kick your teeth down your throat and hoped he’d make sure you never got back up but no matter how much I dislike it Dempsey… The rookie did what I was unable to do. It’s those kinds of things that now light that fire from within. They ignite my passion to crawl and scrape my way back to the mountaintop. Regal, I am just getting started on that climb and when your son is all out of options, I am going to lock him up and make him say my name as I submit Charlie Dempsey; You wanted me to tap out or snap out, Well prepare because once I sign this piece of paper. This is no longer a theoretical question of ‘whose better’ it will be the real deal. And there isn’t much better than Leyton God Damn Buzzard ...”
Buzzard drops the pen on the table, but as he does, he doesn’t notice Regal subtly slipping a pair of brass knuckles onto his hand. The crowd begins to murmur as Regal moves in behind Buzzard.
Buzzard turns to leave, his words hanging in the air like a threat, but as he takes a step away from the table, Regal subtly steps forward. Before Buzzard can even realize what’s happening, BAM! Regal nails him with a devastating, brass-enhanced Power of the Punch! The crowd erupts in a chorus of boos as Leyton crumples to the mat, blood already beginning to trickle from his forehead. Dempsey rises to his feet and moves round the table to loom over Buzzard, lifting a boot, but Regal raises a finger and wags it, then lifts his microphone as he toes Leyton with a boot.
William Regal: I’m terribly sorry, dear boy, but when we struck our bargain you would have noticed — had you been just a touch more clever — that I never said anything about my own actions. My son didn’t even have to touch you to lay you out on your back. Pathetic.
Raising the hand that is still holding the brass knuckles, Regal looks over the crowd with an air of disdain. His son raises his own fist beside the old man, almost too happy to see that their dastardly plot did indeed work. The pair then exit the ring, signed contract in hand and destined for Carter’s desk, as medical staff rush down to tend to the wounded Buzzard.
The scene opens up on Vincent standing in an area of the backstage pacing the floor. Clutched in his hand is the Prime Time Medal as he begins to speak.
Vincent: Finn Balor. Finn Balor has brought all the gusto, all the moxie, all the spunk to the dance for tonight’s match, a match that he’s convinced I can’t win. And I’d be a fool to ignore the possibility of losing. I mean, my plans to defend this Medal three times and go on to challenge Kyle O’Reilly for the Intercontinental Championship could go up in smoke tonight because of a Coup De Grace and a one, two, three. But…
Vincent stops, turning to face the camera with a sadistic look in his eyes and a crazed smile as he holds up the Prime Time Medal.
It’s just as likely that I leave tonight with this still in my possession. That I take my offense like it’s the very axe I carry and chop Finn’s hopes and dreams into chunks of oblivion. The, “Horror King” has awakened from dormancy and that means trouble for you, Prince. Because dormancy makes a man hungry so I’m going to make a meal of you and then, as I touched on earlier this week…
Vincent snaps his fingers.
Mori. Then it all ends for you and you’re left to limp off to lick your wounds before taking a crack at the next opponent. But let’s not use all my time and energy on talking about this defense. There’s a Money in the Bank match coming up, after all. Six competitors, one briefcase. Well with my philosophy of the more people I can victimize at once, the better, this is in my favor. And with my history of winning multiple matches that have had high stakes and multiple competitors, be it tournament style or otherwise, this is in my favor. And with my thirst for vengeance and hunger for righting some wrongs, you guessed it, this is in my favor. The odds don’t lie, man, so get used to seeing me with multiple prizes because soon, that’s going to be the image. Then you can all bow before your, “Horror King”.
Vincent turns and walks offscreen as Revolution continues elsewhere.
Tony Chimel: Ladies and gentlemen, the following is a singles contest scheduled for one fall! Introducing first...
Red lights focus on the stage and smoke billows from the entrance way as 'Skullseeker' by Eternal Champion blasts out of the PA system to a tremendous ovation. Out onto the stage walks The Mighty Caleb clad in armour and sporting a cape. He stands with his arms wide, his cape appearing like black wings against the red background of the stage. In one hand he holds a drinking horn which he holds aloft. As the glorious main riff kicks in Caleb drinks from the horn before raising it high in the air and yelling 'SKAL!'.
Chimel: Hailing from The Northern Realms... weighing in at a mighty 235 pounds... he is 'THE MIGHTY' CAAAALEB!
The Mighty Caleb then makes his march down towards the ring, he fist bumps members of the crowd who reach out to him and leads them in the 'SKAL' chant which turns the crowd into a frenzy. Caleb steps up onto the ring apron now and once again holds the horn aloft, pumping his fist as he does so to the rhythm of the crowd. Caleb then enters the ring and continues to pump his fist as he marches around, hyping himself up for the battle ahead.
Chimel: And his opponent...
As the piano introduction of the...somewhat acceptable, somewhat stereotypical theme song of the person it accompanies plays out over the speakers of the arena, the lights of the arena remain as they are, nothing too special going on there. Instead, the special part comes from when the song truly kicks in, as out through the curtain bursts none other than The Don himself, and right away, he is looking for his validation.
Regardless of whether the fans are cheering him or booing him, he is still making a big deal out of getting a reaction - perhaps he sees it as a form of respect being given his way? It doesn't truly matter; What matters is that he's demanding a response, and a response is what they give.
Chimel: "From Chicago, Illinois, weighing in at 250 lbs...TONYYYYY D'ANGELO!"
With his name being called out by his fellow Tony once more, The Don of the UWF makes his way down the ramp, giving a couple of chef's kisses out towards the front row fans with a smile on his face, before making his way up the steel steps and entering the ring. First stopping by to drop off his fedora-styled hat by one of the ring crew members, he quickly makes his rounds around the ring, offering thanks to Tony Chimel for his ring announcing duties, before then opting to "thank" the official for a night's hard work, maybe slipping a little something-something into his hands during that handshake - who knows, truly? Regardless, Tony D'Angelo gets set up in his corner, ready to throw down and take care of some business.
VS 
DING DING!
From the moment the bell rings, it's clear what kind of match this is going to be, as these two men get right up in each others' faces and then start trading bombs. Snappy lefts set off heavy rights as both men try to stagger their opponent, but it's D'Angelo who gets the upper head as he throws in a knee to the gut and then catches Caleb in a side headlock, before unloading a few stiff body shots to the trapped Mighty One.
Tom Phillips: It seemed like this match was getting started evenly, but the Don of the UWF has very quickly worked his angle and come out ahead.
Corey Graves: You can say what you want about his methods, but you can't argue that Tony D'Angelo fails to get results.
The blows continue, but to diminishing effect as the Stormbringer actually grits his teeth and taps into a deeper reserve of strength, using it to drive D'Angelo into the ropes and send him off of them, freeing himself in the process. As Tony rebounds, he does so into a running crossbody from Caleb, who rolls right through and back to his feet, hitting the ropes again and surging over to land a running senton on the Don. The cumulative impact of two such attacks from the 235-pounder leaves D'Angelo winded, and Caleb stays on top after the senton, hooking the leg.
1...
...NO! D'Angelo kicks out!
Mauro Ranallo: Quick kickout there by Tony D.
Caleb does not seem content with that outcome as he rises to his feet, pulling D'Angelo up with him. The Stormbringer then delivers a European uppercut meant to stagger, but the Don responds with an open-palmed smack to the face! The defiant gesture brings a slight smile to Caleb's face and he responds with a big chop, to which D'Angelo responds with another big smack. The two continue trading blows and it's actually Caleb who staggers first. When he does, the Don rushes him, but Caleb manages to turn and catch him with a grip of his throat. It looks like the Mighty One is going to convert the hold into some sort of lift or toss, but D'Angelo delivers a chop downward on the arm to break it, then backs into the ropes and bullrushes Caleb to the canvas, rolling through and scooping him up on one shoulder before tossing him overhead with a back body drop!
Graves: Look at the power of the Don!
Phillips: He just lifted and tossed Caleb like a sack of potatoes!
Without hesitation, D'Angelo capitalizes on the opening by closing the gap and dropping an elbow on Caleb's sternum, then pulls him into a seated headlock and starts delivering those trapped blows, now to the top of the dome. The official starts a count, reaching four before Tony breaks off the hold and rises to his feet, bringing Caleb up with him. The Don sends his foe off the ropes, bending for another back body drop, but this time the Mighty One has it scouted and stops short before delivering a big kick to the chest that shoots D'Angelo back up to a standing position. As D'Angelo shoots up, Caleb spins and by the time Tony is fully vertical, he's brought back down to the canvas by a spinning lariat! Caleb then bends to grab him by the collar of his shirt and haul him back to his feet before Biel throwing him into the ropes. On rebound, Caleb collides with a shoulder block that sends him back into the ropes again and leaves him defenseless as he rebounds into a flapjack! The sequence draws a pop from the fans as the Stormbringer rises to his feet with much hype and heads out to the apron, then starts climbing up top.
Ranallo: The Mighty Caleb has broken out and now he might look to put this one away!
Indeed, it looks like he might be looking for a top-rope Jotun Stomp, but before Caleb can get his full footing, D'Angelo surges to life and hops up onto the second. Caleb tries to drive him off with some clubbing blows, but the Don shrugs them off and grabs him in a belly-to-belly clutch, then spins off the ropes with a superplex! The ring shudders under the crash of the two bigger men, and the fans erupt in a huge pop for the move even as both men are left lying on the canvas, neither in a position to take full advantage just yet.
Phillips: To borrow one from my broadcast partner...
Ranallo: ...MAMMA MIA!
It is the Don who finds his feet first, and he hobbles toward Caleb, hauling the Stormbringer up into a gutwrench clutch and flowing through with a suplex! It looks like he's about to go for the cover, but then he notices an all-too-familiar face hopping the barricade and climbing up onto the apron and the Don instead rises to his feet and moves to meet him!
Graves: It's Sami Zayn!
Phillips: What's he doing out here?
D'Angelo and Zayn trade some barbs before Tony D throws a hand, but Sami simply hops off the apron and laughs as D'Angelo fumes. The Don turns to return his focus to the task at hand, but in the intervening time Caleb was able to find his feet and as D'Angelo spins around, he gets scooped up and spun out into a Hel Rider! Caleb hooks the leg!
1...
...2...
...3!
DING DING DING!
Here is your winner:
The Mighty Caleb!
Ranallo: The Don of the UWF took his eye off the ball for a second and The Stormbringer was there for capitalize!
Phillips: This felt like an evenly-matched contest before Sami Zayn came out and inserted himself in the action...
Graves: He didn't even do anything! He hopped a barricade and stood on the apron! It's not Sami's fault that Tony D'Angelo can't stay focused on what matters. If anything, Sami just proved why he's the better man!
Zayn is laughing at D'Angelo on the outside as Caleb celebrates. The crowd is divided, but mostly cheering for the Mighty One, as the show moves on.
The titantron switches from the UWF Revolution graphic to a live feed from the parking lot, or a least, a parking lot. Kyle O'Reilly is out there smashing empty glass bottles against a brick wall. Why? Because therapy is expensive and loud things breaking is rad. He notices the camera guy creeping up from behind and says over his shoulder...
KO'R: Ya know I coulda been that guy...
He obliterates his last bottle then turns aroun.
KO'R: Sorry, my bad. My bad. I know they sent you out here to catch me talking trash on Seth Rollins and his crew, but friggin clearly I'm still not over what happened last week. And I'm not talking Carmelo Hayes getting all up in my business cause you and me and everyone else knows that that's just Seth sending a dumber guy to do the dirty work he's too scared to pull himself...
KO'R: Charlie Dempsey... I coulda been that guy...
O'Reilly glances back at the wall - all the smashed glass at the base of it, then to the camera again.
KO'R: You go back five years to when Larry Sweeney went looking around the indies for someone who could watch his back while was going for the gold - what if back then, William Regal had been doing like, the same thing? Imagine if back then, William Regal, he knows his in-ring career is pretty much done now, so he goes looking for someone to pass on evvvvverything he knows to. Classic case of teacher and student. Like the movies. Imagine he found me. I think back on it and if I had the choice... if I had the choice between Sweet n' Sour Inc and the Blackpool Dojo... pssssh, come on man, which one you think I'm picking?
Cause I wasn't lying last week when I told Regal that I watched as much of his tape as I could get, and that I ripped off everything I saw. The subs, the suplexes - all of it. The only thing I couldn't get was that brain behind it that always figured out a new trick to pull of of the sleeve. That was the missing ingredient. Dude, I woulda loved to pick that brain.
He looks off in the distance - off a the "what could have been".
KO'R: You ever hear that saying? That a mind is a terrible thing to waste? William Regal's got one of the best one's ever as far as wrestling goes, and he's wasting it on that kid. Charlie Dempsey. Charlie. Dempsey.
Yeah, I just wrestled him. What I shoulda done was smack him, though. Right across the side of his head. The kinda F-U welcome wagon that the old dudes used to dish out to snot-nosed newbs who pulled up in the locker room like they owned the place.
Friggin rich kid, private school kid, got everything handed to him kid. Knows some good holds and holds 'em longer than he's allowed and so now everyone thinks he's the next me, but him and everyone else, don't you ever, ever, EVER compare Charlie Dempsey to Kyle O'Reilly again cause there is a difference between hungry and starving and that twerp has never tasted starving before.
Think's he's dangerous cause he finally won a match. Watch. Wait. Listen. He's gonna wear that stolen valor like a badge of honor for months - or however long it takes for me to get back in the ring with him and set the record straight. Whatever. That's fair. And its fine. Let him. Let him talk. Or shoot... let his Dad talk for him.
The Diabetic Dragon steps towards the camera as he addresses the rookie directly.
KO'R: Charlie Dempsey... you say you like to do your talking in the ring. While I listened. And what I heard wasn't great... good. Pretty good. But not great. Good enough to get you a "any time, any place" in my books though. I don't care that Vincent crawled out of the grave to win that Prizz Tizz Mizzle. I don't care that I got Rollins at Summerslam. As long as I'm champ and you're here, you're a Contender. That's not a promotion or a compliment - that's a threat.
Kyle takes a step back, and a deep breath with it.
KO'R: All that junk said, I got a mountain more respect for that punk butt kid then I do for Seth Rollins. I don't know what kinda edge you think you got by sending out your buddy Carmelo to mess with me like that - like hitting Bayley's how your hurt me. Dude... I don't even gotta me like "as her step-brother I'm gonna break your face". I don't even think I gotta warn you about Rick Rude. Cause honestly? I'm pretty sure Bayley could beat you up all on her own. She could definitely clobber Hayes. Didn't that guy suck so bad he got fired like six months ago? What the heck's even going on with that?
The Canuck shrugs.
KO'R: I don't care. It doesn't matter. The fact is, the Seth Rollins that was some kinda cold-blooded killer going after Roman Reigns just melted like ice cream. Now I'm stuck squaring off against a coward at Summerslam - a creep who's barely worth the time it takes to lace boots and tape wrists for.
I haven't even looked you in the eye on Revolution yet. You've done the bare minimum to make this personal. I've been telling everyone that that belt I got is the Fighting Championship but that cred only holds up if I'm putting it on the line against actual fighters.
I heard that was you. Shoot, after everything you've done in the UWF, I figured I was in for the fight of my life against the best of the best. But I'm not, cause you're not. Maybe you used to be, I dunno. Now? Dude, you're not a Messiah - you're a Magician. A couple of dopey tricks in the bag is all you got left, and the worst part is, its all stuff I've seen other guys do better.
O'Reilly lists names and counts 'em off fingers, one at a time.
KOR': Vincent. Dempsey. Nakamura. Pretty much anybody and everybody else on this roster - I'd rather fight someone who's got fight in 'em. But I got you. And you got me. So buddy, better step up or you're gonna get stomped.
Oh, and uh, nWo 4 lyfe.
Kyle throws up the Too Sweet gang sign before heading off into the night. Revolution rolls on!
Chimel: The following contest is set for one-fall!
When Lie, Cheat, Steal by Jim Johnston plays, The UWF Universe See a low rider coming out from the back and drives it smoothly out here onto the stage and rides it straight down towards the ramp away and he pulls to a stop and turned on the switches inside of his low rider an stops it and gets out of his low rider in starts shaking his arms in gets inside of the Revolution ring and climbs up the top rope and beats on his chest and shakes his arms once again and head over towards the other top rope and does the exact same thing beats his chest and does the shake an gets down from the top rope
Chimel: Introducing first, from El Paso, Texas Weighing in at two hundred and twenty eight pounds Eddie Guerrero
OWW, SIMPLY RAVISHING!
The theme music begins to blare throughout the arena as there is a mixed reaction from the crowd. Eric Bischoff slinks out onto the entrance ramp taunting the fans.
Bischoff turns back to the curtain and begins bowing over and over again before “Ravishing” Rick Rude walks out onto the stage.
Rick Rude and Eric Bischoff begin making their way down the ramp.
Chimel: And his opponent, from Robbinsdale, Minnesota. Weighing in at 252 pounds, “Ravishing” Rick Rude!
Bischoff is the first up the steps at ringside and sits on the second rope for Rude as Rude steps into the ring. Rude looks out amongst the crowd for a second before requesting a microphone.
Rude: Cut my music!
Once the music dies down Rude continues.
Rude: What I’d like to have right now…is for all of you fat, out of shape, overweight, inner-city sweathogs to keep the noise down while I take off my robe and show all of these ladies what a real sexy man is supposed to look like! Hit my music!
The music begins again as Rude begins to disrobe.
As the robe comes off, the camera zooms in to show that Rude is wearing tights that have Bayley's face directly on the crotch. As Rude turns around, we see there are hands on each cheek of the pants, one could only assume they belong to Bayley.
Tony heads out of the ring and after ensuring both competitors are good to go, the Official calls for the bell.
VS 
DING DING
Eddie’s looking fired up when that bell rings. He pulls down on the top rope to get a feel for the stretch in the cables tonight - you know how folks do sometimes? Across the ring, Rude cranks his neck from side to side and loosens his shoulders up, bracing himself for a contest against a fellow vet who he knows is going to have a serious speed advantage. While the Ravishing One isn't without his fair share of supporters, it sounds like the bigger portion of the sold out crowd in Kansas City is backing that Latino Heat tonight.
Phillips: What a raucous bunch of fans we've got in the T-Mobile Center here. You can really feel the anticipation for the Biggest Party of the Summer starting to build.
Graves: I'm surprised there weren't riots in the streets and protests outside the front door after how Patrick Mahomes was treated last week.
Ranallo: Well Logan Paul will have every chance to avenge his friend-slash-goon-for-hire come Summerslam, but first things first, we've got Eddie Guerrero looking to save his marriage in this bout. Eve has given him a last-last chance to prove himself, insisting that if he fails to walk away with the victory tonight, they'll be on the splits.
Eddie circles around the perimeter of the ring, feeding off the energy of the live crowd as he hypes himself up for what's guaranteed to be a challenging encounter. Even this late into his storied career, he's never faced odds quite like this. There's a lot on the line and you can see the weight of it waying on the legendary wrestler. On the flipside, its business as usual for Rude, but that doesn't mean he isn't taking this seriously. He's cool and collected, but no doubt looking for a statement win to get things back on track ahead of the Money in the Bank Ladder Match.
They competitors finally lock up in the dead center of the squared circle. Rude quickly bullies Guerrero back a few paces with his size advantage. Eddie allows the the Minnesotan to lean into it then turns the tables to use that forward motion to his advantage. Side-stepping out of the way, he shoves Rick off and flings him towards the ropes.
Eddie vies to catch him on the return trip with an armdrag. Rick plants his feet to cut that off, then counters with a standing one of his own - utilizing all that size and power to hoist his opponent up and over. Guerrero impressively flips through and re-counters to bring The Ravishing One down to the canvas.
Rick scrambles back to his feet and eats a dropkick for his troubles. Both of Eddie's wrestling boots find a home in the upper west side of that chiseled chest, with the force knocking Rude straight back into a corner post. Eve, who was looking reserved at first, leans in and pounds on the apron, telling her husband (for now) to keep up that pace. Bischoff, meanwhile, flashes just the faintest little bit of nervousness.
Phillips: Strong start from Eddie. He needs to keep Rick off balance and use his speed to stay one or two steps ahead.
Graves: What he needs is for the old ball-and-chain to stop burying him under a mountain on unnecessary pressure. If she wants to leave so bad, let her go.
Ranallo: You're such a romantic, Corey.
Graves: I'm a realist, Mauro. Eddie's a former International Champion. That's just one of the many titles he won before Eve of the LWO was ever in the picture. What have those people ever done for him but take his eye of the prize?
Eddie follows Rude over to the corner and hops on on the intersecting middle ropes. From there, he rains down punches on to Rick's head, the crowd counting along with each shot until he gets to seven. They were probably hoping for ten. Usually these things happen in tens. Before he can get there, however, and before the Referee can even start a count of his own to break up that rope-hugging action, Rick hoists his opponent up on to his shoulders and steps away from the ropes. The Ravishing One has had enough of all that nonsense and is aiming to get back in the driver's seat with a Powerbomb.
What would surely have been a tide-turning maneuver never sees the light of day. Rick's efforts are stymied by another reversal - a headscissors takeover this time that flips the former IC Champ over and lands Eddie seated on top for a pinning predicament. The Referee slides in to count it...
1...
2...
Rude pops out at two!
Phillips: That was a close call!
Graves: Rude was never in any real danger!
Ranallo: The last thing Rick Rude wants is to take another loss heading into an extraordinarily stacked ladder match where a future world title shot will be on the line. Not that anyone has ever questions the Ravishing One's confidence, but consecutive pinfall losses would, frankly, be unprecedented in his case, and that might just rock the boat a little.
Graves: Dropping one to Drew McIntyre is nothing to be ashamed of, and besides, winning that Money in the Bank Briefcase makes everything that happened before that point in your career pretty much irrelevant, because all anyone will be wondering about is what you're going to do next. Its complete game changing.
Phillips: Unless, like, I guess you disappear off the face of the earth with it...
Graves: Still heartbroken about your hero, Phillips?
Phillips: Then. Now. Forever.
The fellas hustle to their feet. Eddie gets there first but Rude decks him with a lunging lariat before he can take things any further. He swings his arm like a gosh dang baseball bat and it turns Guerrero inside out. The Ravishing One sprawls to make a cover of his own...
1...
2...
Eddie kicks out right after two. Rude was anticipating that and its up on his feet in a flash, dragging his opponent there with him by the scruff of the neck. Rick keeps him dizzy with a knee lift to the face and then wastes no time in lifting him up to nail a Spike Piledriver!
The crowd "OOH's" cause it was a dag nasty landing. Whatever nervousness Bischoff was displaying before, he's grinning from ear to ear now.
Eve, on the other hand, is cupping her hands over her mouth, mortified that her hubby isn't gonna be able to live up to her stipulation.
The Referee drops down to make the count when Rick folds up what's left of Guerrero to make the pin...
Ranallo: This is it. The end of an era.
1...
Graves: I say good riddance.
Phillips: How can you be so heartless?
2...
Eddie somehow finds a way to kick out a two!
Kansas City comes unglued! Guerrero is still in this thing! Rude sits up and shakes his head in disbelief. Bischoff leans under the bottom rope and tell him to stay focused and get the job done. Rick nods and goes to work, pulling his foe of the canvas to set him up for a Rude Awakening.
Just as he's hooking the head over his shoulder, though, a plea from Eve cuts through the noise and Eddie finds a second wind. He rolls through the attempted finisher, spins both himself and his opponent around, plants a knee in the midsection and then nails one of the finest looking suplexes he's ever hit in his life.
Ranallo: Wow! Huge suplex from Guerreo, who's showing a ton of guts in fighting his way back after that vicious Spike Piledriver.
Phillips: He's got all the motivation he's ever gonna need right there at ringside! Don't let her down Eddie!
Of course, one suplex is never enough for Eddie Guerrero. He holds on to the head, rolls over, pulls Rude up and comes back for seconds. If the first was a ten outta ten, the second might just break the scale. Rick comes down hard and heavy, rattling the ring on impact.
Eddie's really feeling himself now. He goes for the Third and Final Amigo, once again bringing Rude back to his feet just so he can execute another suplex.
He never gets the chance. Rude staves off total calamity by spinning his way out to transition into prime position to hit his most favourite kinda neckbreaker.
The Ravishing One drops Eddie with the Rude Awakening in the center of the squared circle, stunning the crowd into silence as he climbs on top to shoot the half...
1...
2...
3...
DING DING
YOUR WINNER...
RICK RUDE!
Rude's music hits the PA and he sits up, wiping the sweat off his brow after that one went a little closer than he was comfortable with. He stands to have his hand raised but the crowd's reaction to how things played out have him realizing that he's just become the skunk at the garden party. He and Eric don't hang around long before heading up the ramp.
Ranallo: Impressive win by Rude, and that will surely give him a boost going into Summerslam. But the story in the ring now is a tragedy, folks...
Phillips: Can this really be the end of their marriage?
Graves: More importantly, does this mean Eve is single?
Phillips: Aren't you married?
Graves: Just cause there's a goalie doesn't mean you can't score, Phillips.
Eddie eventually sits up in the ring. Instinctively, he looks around for Eve, but all he sees of her is the sight of her walking away up the ramp. Perhaps forever. Perhaps.
Revolution rolls on!
The feed cuts to the backstage area where Sami Zayn is standing by flanked by both El Generico and La Luchadora
Sami Dos Oros: Poor little Tony. You put up one hell of a fight earlier tonight but how am I supposed to feel threatened when you can't even keep your eye on the ball? You know for someone who claims to be a Don of a family, you sure do lack an actual support system. You see these guys behind me, they're my family. They're here each and every week with me to make sure nobody messes with me. When we walk around backstage, people avoid us. They know better.
Sami smiles at the thought of his presence scaring people off. He doesn't seem to realize that no one talks to him for many other reasons.
Sami Dos Oros: It's easy to talk when I'm busy doing charity work or preparing for a match but any time someone has my name in their mouth, I take notice. You weren't the only one calling me out after I won this Television Championship and you won't be the last. Holding this title for one week instantly brought more eyes to it than it had all year and yet you want to take that away from all of the UWF faithful. You want this title to go back to mediocrity in your hands. I'm not about to let that happen. I'm fighting for change while you, you just want something because it's valuable. You're scum and I'll continue to treat you like the bottom feeder you are come Summerslam when I scrape your career off the bottom of my boot.
The arena would be plunged into darkness for the time being, all would remain silent as the fans where upon the edge of there seats, waiting for the moment that something, anything at all would happen and it did, as the static would sound, smoke would come onto the stage and the music would begin to play, upon there feet they stand, knowing what was coming, who was coming, the demon prince himself, the one and only, Finn Balor.
He walks out onto the stage, looking to the crowd for the moment as he smirks, his hands brought up to the collar of his jacket as he flicks it lightly and would chuckle, before spreading his arms out to the side and spinning around to let everyone know, he was here, he has arrived and he was here to do what he does best, prove to the entire world that without a shadow of a doubt, he was the very best that there was, as he turns and walks through the smoke, the purple and red lights flashing around as he knows what he has to do tonight, and he was here to unleash the demon upon everyone.
Tony Chimel: From Bray, County Wicklow, Ireland... weighing in at 190 pounds... Finn Balor!
As the lights in the arena go out, an unfamiliar theme begins to play.
”I guess the way I feel is the way that I felt before
High tide, salt in my cut, these are things that I can't ignore
But should I collapse in on myself like an iron core?
Don't count me out just yet.”
The words, ‘just yet’ repeat three more times, with the vocalist screaming ‘yet’ on the third. As he does, the lights come up and there stands Vincent at the top of the ramp as he then starts making his way to the ring.
Tony Chimel: From Warwick, Rhode Island. Weighing in at one hundred and eighty-nine pounds. VINCENT!
Vincent enters the ring now, his gaze as sadistic as ever as he readies for the match ahead.
VS 
DING DING DING
Both men meet at the center of the ring, going face to face. Vincent is smiling through it all like that Lebron James picture, he can't believe his life! Balor takes offense to this and just decks him with a Forearm. Vincent just laughs causing Finn to go on a barrage, backing him into the corner and exploding with shot after shot before kicking him and seating him down. The ref has to pull him away. The smile from Vincent's face is gone, having been firmly washed off. Finn goes back to stay on the attack but Vincent grabs the ropes and launches himself up, levels Balor with a Clothesline!
The Horror King picks Finn up right away and tells the sweet prince that they're only just beginning. He brings him over to the corner and starts to smash his head into the turnbuckle until he falls to his knees where he smashes his face in some more until the falls to the bottom rung where you guessed it, more face smashes. Now the ref is the one pulling Vincent away and he lifts his hands up like he's done no wrong.
Mauro Ranallo: Things are a little more difficult for Balor than the last time these two met.
Tom Phillips: Yeah Finn can't rely on The Mafia to save him this time.
Corey Graves: And Vinny can't rely on his garbage sideshow matches to bail him out of this one either. My money's on Balor, just you watch.
Finn decides to roll out of the ring to get away but when has going out of a ring turned out good for Vincent's opponents in a match? SPOILER:
This time
Vincent leaves the ring to go get him to dish out more pain. He clubs him in the back as he's trying to get away before he goes to throw him into the steel steps. Balor however reveres and sends Vincent shoulder first into the cold hard steel. But that's not the worst part. Balor takes the steps and pulls them away from the ring a bit. He grabs Vincent and returns the favor, smashes his face against it over and over like he did the turnbuckles to him. Afterwards he takes his head and places it between both the steps and the ring. He backs up and the ref is trying to get him to stop but he doesn't. He runs forward and dropkicks the steps, crushing Vincent's head between the two! Mauro Ranallo: Good God someone may need to stop this match already!
Corey Graves: If Vincent didn't already have brain damage that might do it. Or hell maybe it'll fix him.
Balor shoves the ringside physician away who is checking on Vincent and instead rolls him back into the ring. Balor goes to the top rope and steps up for his finish but the ref actually gets in his way trying to call off the match. The doctor comes into the ring once more to check on Vincent, as he's trying to get up. Balor is yelling at the people to get out of the way but they won't. Vincent however runs to the ropes and knocks off Balor's balance causing him to rack himself.
Corey Graves: Vincent should be thanking his lucky stars both the ref and the doctor stepped in because he was about to shit out his insides.
Tom Phillips: Jesus Corey...
Vincent climbs up to the middle rope and grabs Balor. He whispers something in his ear before laughing. He goes to Superplex him but he ends up taking too much time and Balor fights back giving him some shots to the ribs before following up with a Headbutt to send him back down. Balor repositions himself and comes off the rope with a Missile Dropkick! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
Vincent kicks out! Finn backs up to the corner and motions for Vincent to get to his feet. The Horror King rises up and Balor rushes him, looking to Dropkick him into the corner but Vincent instead leaps into the air and catches him with the Jump Scare! He picks Finn up right away and gives him with Inksanity! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
Balor kicks out! Vincent picks his opponent up and lifts him onto his shoulders. He gets him in the Torture Rack and starts trying to split him in two. Balor cries out in pain but manages to find the wherewithal to punch him in the head a few times and get dropped. He lands on his feet and back flips into the Pele Kick! Vincent gets knocked loopy and staggers back into the corner. Balor runs over to hit a Forearm but Vincent gets the boot up and knocks him back a few paces. Vincent walks over to him and picks him up for a Back Suplex but Balor flips over and lands on his feet behind him. He grabs Vincent and gives him a Lifting Reverse DDT! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
Vincent gets the shoulder up at 2!
Corey Graves: Vincent is getting mighty lucky so far. I expect that'll run dry soon since he can't use his weapons he loves.
Mauro Ranallo: He's a former UWF Champion, Royal Rumble winner and King of the Ring. All of those won in normal rules style matches.
Corey Graves: A broken clock is right twice a day. And unfortunately for us, Vincent's been around far too many days.
The Prime Time Medalist rolls out of the ring to perhaps get a bit of a breather. It doesn't end up working out well for him as Balor rushes over and flies out with a suicide Somersault Senton to take him out! Balor picks him up and points to the stairs once more. The Horror King however burst out of his grasp and levels him with a Headbutt! He then grabs him and delivers a Saito Suplex on the floor! He throws him back into the ring and climbs in after him. Balor is trying to get to his feet but Vincent runs at him and delivers a Running Flatliner. He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . .
Balor kicks out! The Demon Prince crawls over to the ropes while Vincent just watches, stalking him like prey. Balor is able to use the ropes to help him get to his feet but as soon as he's turned around, he's hit with a Pump Kick to the face. He's hit so hard he turns and falls halfway out of the ring. Dazed and hanging over the top rope, Vincent exits out onto the apron and grabs his head. Next thing you know he jumps down to the floor to give him a DDT to the outside of the ring!
Mauro Ranallo: DDT to the floor Mamma Mia!
Corey Graves: This sadistic son of a bitch needs to be stopped!
Tom Phillips: I don't normally agree with Corey but he may be right here.
The doctor comes to check on Balor and Vincent backs away and lets them. He leans against the announce table laughing as Balor's broken body twitches every few seconds in front of him. Vincent stands back up and pushes the doctor out of the way, throwing Finn back into the ring. The ref is trying to get him to stop, threatening a disqualification but he Vincent doesn't care, he's here to make a statement heading into Money in the Bank. He slowly walks over to Finn and bends down to pick him up but The Demon Prince catches him with an Inside Cradle!
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
But No! Vincent gets the shoulder up at the very last second! He stands up right away and puts the boot to the downed Balor. That pin was a last minute desperation attempt but Balor as now it looks like he can't even protect himself. Vincent brings him up and places him onto his shoulders in the Torture Rack before spiking him down on the top of his head via Mori! He makes the cover.
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, and STILL the Prime Time Medalist, Vincent!
Vincent is handed his medal and he places it around his neck, kissing it like he just won gold at the Olympics. He lifts one finger in the air, just one more win needed for a cash in. He leaves Balor to his fate as he's being checked on by the doctor as the show moves on.
The camera cuts to the backstage area where Sammy Guevara is pacing back and forth, clearly agitated. The corridors of the arena are buzzing with activity as crew members go about their business, but Sammy's focus is solely on one target. Spotting William Regal and Charlie Dempsey heading toward the locker rooms, They enter but before they can fully close the door, Guevara strides over with purpose. He kicks in the door as he yells…
Sammy Guevara
“Regal!”
Regal and Dempsey stop in their tracks, turning to face Guevara. Regal’s face shows a mix of curiosity and disdain, while Dempsey merely crosses his arms, sizing up Guevara.
William Regal: “Well, if it isn’t another cockroach unfitting of tying my boots. If you are looking to beg for a job, Mr. Guevara, then you will find Mr. Carter’s office is that way.”
Regal points past Guevara, who steps up, his eyes darting between Regal and Dempsey. He’s clearly holding back his anger, trying to keep his composure.
“You know, Regal, While Leyton and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms and he told me to keep my nose out of this. I just can’t do that. You think you can just sucker-punch Leyton, get away with it, and everything’s cool? Nah, that’s not how this works. Even if Leyton never speaks to me again, I'll stick my foot so far up your ass, the beads of sweat on my leg are gonna quench your thirst…”
Regal raises an eyebrow, amused by Guevara’s boldness. Dempsey remains stone-faced, his eyes narrowing as Guevara speaks.
“Regal I don’t want any excuses. I want you in that ring at Rebellion. You and me, one-on-one. Let’s see how tough you really are without those brass knuckles or your son to hide behind.”
Regal chuckles softly, shaking his head as if dismissing the idea outright. But before he can respond, Dempsey steps forward, cutting him off.
Charlie Dempsey: “You really don’t have a clue what’s going on, do you? Do you people not even bother to watch the programming before you come along challenging an old man who’s unfit to compete? My dad won’t be stepping into the ring with you because if he does, his heart could fail. And he’s too great a man to risk a heart attack stomping out a little shitstain like you. But me, on the other hand? I just so happen to be spoiling for a fight. Could use a little tune-up before I break your old friend in half at Summerslam.
Sammy looks taken aback for a moment but quickly recovers, a sly grin spreading across his face as he realizes the challenge has been accepted, albeit not by Regal.
“Alright, Dempsey. You want to play hero? Fine by me. But when I beat you down at Rebellion, you and your old man better think twice before messing with Leyton again.”
Dempsey simply laughs at Guevara and shakes his head. He’s about to speak when Regal places a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back from Sammy and stepping up in his stead.
Dear boy, if you think such pitiful threats will put you in any better standing come Rebellion, you’re sorely mistaken. You couldn’t even manage Mr. Buzzard at his best. You don’t stand a chance against my son. But I very much look forward to watching him make an example of you for Mr. Buzzard to see before Summerslam.
The tension in the air is palpable as the two men stare each other down. Regal stands to the side, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watches his son take charge. Without another word, Dempsey turns and walks away, Regal following closely behind. Guevara watches them go, Anger in his eyes…
The live feed opens up backstage where Drew McIntyre is alone and appears to be collecting his thoughts. After taking a noticeable deep breath, the Scotsman turns to the camera and begins to speak.
Drew McIntyre: So I was originally scheduled to have formal interview time tonight, but following an anonymous complaint that's come in after leaked footage from a private conversation aired on last week's show, I've since been advised that the broadcasting crew don't want anything to do with me at this time... Considering it's a group of people that have been working here for a lengthy period of time, I suspect some of them may have had some flashbacks to the past when I intentionally made a point of making any interview scenario an uncomfortable experience for all involved. Times have changed though, and whilst I'm certainly not going to apologize for those past actions, or for what I said to the commentators last week, I would have thought that my general actions and demeanor from the last several weeks was proof that even when there's big differences of opinion on full display, I am still someone that anyone and everyone can do business with when they put their mind to it.
Drew McIntyre: Besides, this is something that will have ultimately all blown over in a week's time or so, only because people will have found something else to moan and complain about. But where some people waste their time on pettiness, I use my time to find opportunity, and as Summerslam draws ever closer, one of the most coveted opportunities lies within reach... I don't need to remind or explain to anyone precisely what's at stake in the Money in the Bank Ladder match, but I'd like to think that my showing against one of my fellow competitors last week is giving people less reason to doubt that I will indeed be the one to leave Phoenix that night with the briefcase in my possession. By all means though, if you'd rather listen to and believe the lies, delusions and outright stupidity of the five other guys involved then be my guest, just don't go whining about it once I've put them all in the rightful place where they belong... Beneath me!
A determined McIntyre turns his gaze away from the camera lens and the feed slowly transitions to another part of the building.
Chimel: The following contest is set for one-fall! Introducing first, from Los Angeles, California. Weighing in at Two Hundred and Sixty-Five Pounds, he is "The Reflection of Perfection", "The Masterpiece". Christopher Adonis!
The lights go out in the arena. It's pitch black until a single spotlight is shown on the top of the stage.
The entrance music of Chris Adonis begins to play and soon enough, the man is shown kneeling in that singular spotlight, As his music hits a certain crescendo, the house lights come back on and Adonis rises from his knee and begins posing. He shows off his impressive physique as fireworks go off right behind him.
Adonis walks down the ramp ring. He's showing off his body the whole time to the people who deems lesser than him and out of shape. He's all smiles as he walks up the ring steps and enters the ring.
The violins of Shinsuke Nakamuras theme begin to wail across the arena, until the beat kicks in with one last string of the violin as a silhouetted Nakamara appears in the shadows and his name pops up on the tron. The Spotlight hits Nakamura as he is swaying his arms around along with is music, the audience begin to sing along to his theme as he flows down to the ring.
Chimel: And his opponent, from Kyoto, Japan. weighing in at 229 pounds...Shinsuke...Nakamura!
Shinsuke walks around the ring and leans back against the barricade waving his hands with his ring finger down and all other fingers extended as the people in the front row reach out just to touch him. Nakamura walks up the steel steps and holds onto the ring post to stretch before he enters the ring, putting his hand over his mouth almost ready to burst into tears before he turns around and grabs the ropes. Doing his signature pose in time with his music as he slowly sinks down his legs bending as he lays on his back on the canvas. Twirling up and around onto his knees and standing back up he brushes his hair and goes to the corner where he puts his foot against the top turnbuckle to stretch, following with his other foot moving up to hook onto the top rope to get himself limber for his match.
Tony heads out and after ensuring both competitors are ready to go, the Referee calls for the bell.
VS 
DING DING
After the bell rings, Shinsuke's head lowers, though he keeps his eyes fixed on his opponent. There's an animalism to the leer - like a predator tracking its next meal in the wild. Adonis clocks that, but he doesn't look too bothered. When you look like Michelangelo carved your whole entire body out of a slab or marble, there isn't really all that much you gotta sweat as far as athletic contest or physical altercations go.
Christopher rolls his shoulders up and bounces from foot to foot, getting ready to compete for the first time in a minute. Whatever time he's been lacking in the ring lately, he hasn't been missing out on the gym. Dude might even be a few pounds beefier than when he was locking fools up in his favourite submission on the weekly earlier in the year. While he was anything but a crowd favourite back then, he's getting some love from the KC fans coming into this clash the enigmatic and divisive Shinsuke Nakamura.
Ranallo: Last week, for the first time since returning to the UWF, Shinsuke Nakamura suffered a defeat, in no small part thanks to some interference from Chris Adonis.
Phillips: Hard to feel too much sympathy for Nakamura given that he's bent and broken his fair share of rules to get so far so fast on Revolution.
Graves: That stunt Adonis pulled cost Shinsuke his undefeated streak as well as the Prime Time Medal. What do you think its going to cost Chris?
Ranallo: Well even though The Masterpiece isn't the most active member of the roster, Shinsuke really can't afford to take him lightly. One man in a hundred was able to break out of the Adonis Lock - if he can apply that submission hold to Nakamura in this contest, Christopher could do some serious damage to his friend's Summerslam opponent.
Speaking of said friend, LA Knight is notably absent. Evidently, Christopher wants to take care of business by himself. He beckons Nakamura to meet him in the center of the ring. Shinsuke smirks and walks forward to lock up with him there. A collar-and-elbow engagement doesn't last for long - Adonis whips Nakamura towards the ropes after about five seconds.
The former Prime Time Medalist bounces off the cables and ducks under an attempted clothesline on the way back. He keeps on running to hit the far ropes. On that rebound, Adonis clips him with a big ol' shoulder tackle, throwing all his weight behind it. The Masterpiece knocks Nakamura to the canvas. Shinsuke rolls away, clutching at his own shoulder - the wounded reaction gets a smile on Chris' face and, showman that he is, he turns to the hard cam to once again flaunt his impressive physique.
Phillips: Wow. What a stud.
Ranallo: He needs to stay on top of Nakamura...
While Christopher is peacocking, Nakamura is playing possum. Shinsuke creeps back to his feet while his opponent's back is turned, revealing that he wasn't so hurt by that shoulder tackle after all. Despite the crowd's sudden shift, there's no alerting Adonis to what's coming, and The King of Strong Style takes it out the nasty way with a vicious chop block!
The fans wince when Adonis' leg buckles. He goes down hard and ugly, clutching at his knee where it got blasted. Nakamura shows no quarter. He gets right back up, grabs the ankle of the hurt limb, and uses that grip as leverage while he proceeds to stomp and kick the ever loving bejeezus out of the leg. The onslaught is relentless. Christopher can't even fight back, though he does manage to claw his way over to the ropes to force a break.
Graves: You give Nakamura an inch and he takes a mile. There was no way he was ever going to go hold-for-hold with a powerhouse like The Masterpiece, but by taking out his leg early, he has this match completely under control.
Phillips: If Nakamura seemed even a little unbothered about losing that Medal last week, it sure looks like he actually took it quite personally given how ruthless those kicks we just saw were.
Nakamura gives Adonis some space to get up - just enough to tease him with some hope, it turns out. The second Christopher has used the ropes to get vertical, Shinsuke comes at him again, taking out the leg with a low dropkick. Knight's pal collapses again, while the King of the Ring winner drops, rolls under the ropes, and hits the floor. Reaching back into the ring, he once again grabs the ankle to drag Adonis towards the corner, where he proceeds to bash the bad knee into the steel post.
Bone smashes against metal like the ringing of a funeral bell. Its an ugly sound for an ugly action. The Referee is hollering at him to get back in the ring and Shinsuke doesn't make him wait for long. He climbs back into the ring and once more waits for Adonis - who insists to the Third Man that he's good to continue - to try and get up.
With his opponent in the corner, Shinsuke pulls both his legs and throws them through the ropes so he is seated on the second rope. Kicking The Reflection of Perfection in the back of the head to keep him put before doing a barrel role backwards to his feet to create distance, Shinsuke then runs towards him, sliding feet first under the bottom rope and hooking the waist as he does for a snap sliding German Suplex.
Ranallo: Ooof! An impressive is gut-wrenching display from Nakamura. Adonis' head just cracked off the mat there. This one could be done, folks.
Graves: Nakamura is just picking the guy apart at this point.
Again, Nakamura doesn't waste a lot of time on the outside. The Official doesn't need to worry about a ten count cause before you know it, Shinsuke is back in the ring. He collects Adonis off the mat and launches him with an Inverted Exploder. It might well be enough to score him the pin at this point, but he just uses his preferred suplex to get enough distance to pop off with his kill shot...
Graves: Kinshasaaaaaa!
Phillips: That's it! Adonis is done!
Shinsuke's knee cracks off of Christopher Adonis' face, knocking him out cold. He then crawls over and hooks a leg to wrap it up...
1...
2...
3...
DING DING
YOUR WINNER...
SHINSUKE NAKAMURA!
Nakamura stands to have his hand raised in front of a stunned crowd.
Graves: Nakamura has been so impressive since coming back to Revolution that it really shouldn't be surprising when he does stuff like this, and yet...
Ranallo: Truly, Corey. He made short work of Christopher Adonis - a man who's typically the one destroying his challengers in that ring.
Phillips: If Adonis was hoping to soften up Nakamura for Summerslam, I think this must have had the opposite affect, because now LA Knight has to live with what his opponent just did to his best friend.
Nakamura doesn't spare a second glance at his handiwork. He walks over to the corner and turns his back on Adonis who is being helped sit up. We zoom in on Nakamura's face and he can sense Adonis. He slowly turns his head to see him sitting up. Nakamura turns back around and charges at him, deliver yet another Kinshasa to the back of his head! To make matters worse, he sits him up enough to lock in the Adonis Lock!
Tom Phillips: Now this is just unecesssary!
Corey Graves: When you're King, sometimes you need to send a message to the peasants.
Adonis is clearly out while Nakamura laughs until...
Nakamura breaks the hold and faces the ramp, giving him the "C'mon" gesture. The UWF Champion comes running out from the back, making a beeline for the ring. Shinsuke lets him get all the way up until he slides out of the ring. Knight checks on Adonis while keeping an eye on Nakamura. The King of the Ring has a big grin on his face as he just casually walks up the ramp. He turns around at the top of the ramp, giving Knight a good look as he motions to have a title around his waist as the show comes to a close.
END OF SHOW
Credits
D'Angelo vs Caleb - Crann
Guerrero vs Rude, Nakamura vs Adonis - Fauche
Balor vs Vincent, Orton vs Chase - Danny
