“Find me the Herald.”
Dominion opens on the face of Jonas Coleman and quickly pans out to reveal that he’s speaking with Abigail Chase who appears to have a slightly concerned look on her face. Coleman is out of sorts, not well groomed as he normally is, and has large dark circles under his eyes.
Chase: Jonas, look, you know that he’ll find you. I don’t know if this is a good idea. I’m not telling you this as a coworker, but as a friend, okay?
Jonas shakes his head, disregarding her appeal to his sensibilities.
Jonas: …I just want to find the Herald and speak with him, Abby. That’s all I want. That’s all I want. Just to talk, okay? Okay.
Chase puts her hand on his chest and he lets out a stuttered breath.
Chase: Maybe just go home and get some rest. Nothing good comes from this.
“Nothing good comes from what, my dear Abigail?”
As the Herald walks into the frame, Abigail Chase removes her hand from Jonas’ chest, sighs, and walks away. Jonas’ pupils dilate as his adrenaline surges in the Herald’s presence and his fist balls up, hoping to muster some confidence.
Herald: Whoa there, Mr. Coleman. I thought you didn’t intend to do anything but talk…
Jonas: I’m not going to try to fight you, Herald.
Herald: That’s a wise decision, Jonas. That would effectively be the end of your opportunity here.
Jonas incredulously cocks his head at the Herald and nearly laughs.
Jonas: The end of my opportunity here? Are you kidding me? You’ve sat me on the sidelines for I don’t even know HOW long… how has my opportunity NOT ended yet?
Herald: You’re a silly, silly boy, Jonas. You know the answer to that question. The reason is that you meddle in things that you absolutely shouldn’t be. You should be focused on bloodletting here and not trying to be Sherlock Holmes, Jonas. Do what many of the others around here have done.
Jonas: And what’s that?
Herald: You fight. You bleed. You cause pain. You work your contract and nothing else. We’ll call this your last warning, okay? I don’t want anything untoward to happen to you. None of this insurgency business, okay buddy? End your half-cocked investigation. You’re a very valuable commodity.
Herald starts to walk away.
Herald: And that’s all you are, Jonas, is a commodity.
Jonas looks down, shaking his head, as the scene shifts back to the ring.
When Ultimo Muerte stepped into the ring against Arturo Escuela, Escuela didn’t know what awaited him. He found out… very quickly. Muerte got in and did not mess around, beating Escuela from pillar to post. Arturo, for all of his skill and drive, just was not going to get off the ground in this match. This was Muerte’s match and he showed Escuela and the SHOOT Project his intentions.
Muerte is a seven foot tall, 330lb powerhouse and unfortunately, Escuela was his first victim. Muerte spends the better part of the beginning of this match slamming Escuela over and over with sidewalk slams, to the point where the Faithful crowd aren’t sure how to react. Muerte doesn’t know anything but punishment and soon Escuela is bloodied from the encounter. Every time he starts to try to mount some kind of a comeback, Muerte stuffs him, either slaming him or just punsching him so hard that Escuela gets staggered and then hit with another hard shot.
Muerte panders to the crowd a lot, mocking the damaged and fallen Escuela when Escuela starts to hit back! He gets a couple of hard shots in on Muerte, but unfortunately, they seem to only annoy Ultimo who DROPS Escuela with a heart punch, picks him back up, throttles him, and lifts him up to hit him with lifted choke lariat. To finalize the entire ordeal, Muerte picks the nearly unconscious Escuela up, drops him with his Michinoku Driver, and captures the pinfall.
WINNER: ULTIMO MUERTE (6:43)
The shot goes to the back, where Cade Sydal, the Suicide Test Dummy, and Cassi Ryan are walking the halls and laughing together with their brand new Just Us League t-shirts on. Cassi spots the camera and rolls her eyes openly.
Cassi Ryan: Great, it’s this fucking guy. What do you want, Jacob?
Camerman: It’s Justin…
Suicide Test Dummy: What the fuck did you just say Jethro? Man, you better shut the fuck up before you get rolled on just like everyone else, you fuckin’ pussy.
Cade holds his hands up, patting the air in front of STD.
Cade Sydal: Chill, Dummy. It’s okay, Jaque here didn’t mean anything by it. Isn’t that right? Ya know what, don’t even answer that. You’re out here fishing for some footage, right? Just follow us, we’re bound to say or do something awesome.
Suicide Test Dummy: That’s what we fuckin’ do.
STD gets uncomfortably close to the camera, just to the right of the screen, as if he’s getting in the cameraman’s face until Cade grabs him by the elbow and pulls back on him.
Cade Sydal: He can’t follow us if you’re putting your dick in his ear, right Jeffrey?
The three of them laugh as they walk past the camera, and for a moment it seems as if Justin isn’t going to follow them. Until Cassi calls over her shoulder, forcing him to turn around the face her.
Cassi Ryan: C’mon, you don’t really wanna miss the show, do you?
She pouts before winking and moving to quickly catch up with the other two, and Justin the Camerman follows like a sucker.
Cade Sydal: Now, we made a small statement with Cedric Nixon first. Then we steamrolled that punk ass Deathwish.
Suicide Test Dummy: Fuck yeah we did!
Cade Sydal: And last week we made a point on Dominion at the expense of Elmo Blower. And yet, here we are at Revolution One-Point-Five and neither of us are booked?
Cassi Ryan: That’s that bullshit, I told you. Houdini and his Maestro are deliberately trying to sweep us under the rug.
All the while, Justin is following Cassi Ryan with his camera closely watching her bouncing skirt as she tries to keep the deliberate pace set by the men.
Cade Sydal: And that’s why we’re going to the office, baby. And it doesn;t matter if it’s Hank or Mark inside, either one is going to have their ears assaulted with my protests. We’re here to compete, we’re here to save this company…and the only way we can do that is in that ring.
Suicide Test Dummy: Little bitches are lucky we don’t just take over the whole fuckin’ show.
Cassi Ryan: Yeah, like stage a sit-in in the middle of the ring!
Cade stops and turns around, and for a moment there’s silence. Until the camera come sup to focus on the faces of the three Just Us League members.
Cade Sydal: Little heavy there, Jerry? Keep it up here, huh? Next time, I’ll kick a hole into your skull and he’ll fuck it, yeah?
Cade points at STD, who licks his lips with a sneer.
Cade Sydal: Good. Now. Anyway…stage a sit-in? In the ring that no one wants to use? No, everyone is too willing to just talk if we do that. No one will oppose us, they’ll just let us have the ring.
Cassi Ryan: Then how?
Cade smirks and stares right into the camera, past it even.
Cade Sydal: We fuck up everybody. Every. Body. No one here has any friends, we’re the only ones that give a shit about each other. Three on one odds, even Ichibad Entrails will topple. Three on one, their perfect little puppet Kitten Yolo is done. Three on one, no one here survives…but those two won’t let us get to that point.
Cade turns around and motions for the other two, and Justin, to follow him as he continues maneuvering through the halls.
Cade Sydal: You’ll see. They’ll play ball.
Suicide Test Dummy: They gotta. We the best motherfuckers here, man.
The three share a fist bump and each of them wiggle their hands away, jellyfish-like. Just a few moments later they stop in front of a closed door, with two motionless security guards dressed in all black.
Cade Sydal: These ninjas…
The three of them snicker as the guards remain motionless until Cade moves to reach for the doorknob, when both move to stand in the way. One of them speaks up to say three simple words.
Guard: Wait your turn.
Cade Sydal: Seriously? There’s a line? Do you want me to pull a number instead? Give me one of those pager gimmicks from fucking Applebees so I can cruise the halls and you’ll buzz me when my Goddmn table is ready?
The guards look at Cade, STD, and Cassi with a shared lack of amusement, stepping toward the Just Us League to forc e the trio to take a few steps back.
Guard: Wait. Your. Turn.
Cade is about to speak up when the door opens, a man steps out, and then it closes. His hands pierce the brief space between the two guards and he steps between them.
Man: Whoa, whoa, whoa, babe…why all the hostility?
The fans stir in the Epicenter at his familiar voice and cadence, a sole finger raised up as his identity is still slightly obscured.
Man: Now, I’ll talk to you three lovelies in a second, but first we need to let these people, unwahsed miscreants and honest hard-working folk alike, get something out of their systems.
The man steps forward and, as the crowd within the Epicenter raise their collective voice in excitement, reveals himself to be CPREY LAZARUS. The Just Us League, meanwhile, seem less than impressed.
Corey Lazarus: Now, now, if the three of you want some autographs then, well, I guess we can arrange something. Luckily, I always carry a pen. So…
Corey walks over and reaches to pinch Cassi’s cheek but his hand is slapped away by Cade as STD marches up to stand face-to-face with him.
Corey Lazarus: Chill, babe. And, you know, try one of these.
Corey pulls a pack of 5 gum from the pocket of his black acid washed jeans, forcing it into STD"s hand. From the other pocket comes a pen, which he clicks and holds up, ready to write.
Corey Lazarus: Now, who should I make these out to? And, you know, what am I signing? If you want it on your arms, or whatever, I’m going to need you to get me a marker.
STD slaps the pen out of Corey’s hand, while his other hand shoves the pack of gum into his own pocket, and gets his face even closer to Corey’s.
Suicide Test Dummy: You think this is a fuckin’ game, bitch? You better ge–
Cade Sydal: He was just about to leave, isn’t that right, Clint Lassiter?
Cade interrupts STD and stares into Corey’s eyes from the left of STD.
Cade Sydal: Or are you trying to be on the receiving end of our bad day?
Cassi starts to move to the right of STD and Corey takes stock of the situation before taking a single step backward.
Corey Lazarus: Easy, tiger. I think that maybe we got off on the wrong foot, so…hi! I’m Corey Lazarus!
Laz reaches his hand out to Cade, who just stares at it; then to STD, who slaps it away; and, finally, to Cassi, who reaches for it before drops it, leaving it unshaken.
Corey Lazarus: You know, that guy who…
Cade Sydal: We know who you are, idiot, so why the hell are you…
Lazarus, exaggerating discomfort, waves away the air in front of his face.
Corey Lazarus: That’s wonderful, slick, but I have some people I have to talk to and, you know, you should probably try some of…what’s in there.
Corey points to the pocket STD shoved the gum into and starts to walk off, whistling the melody to "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida." He turns back quick to snap his fingers and point at Cade, giving him a wink before blowing Cassi a kiss.
Corey Lazarus: Ciao!
The Just Us League watch him depart, brooding in their silence before Cade finally speaks up.
Cade Sydal: Lets go.
Cassi Ryan: What about the office?
Suicide Test Dummy: Fuck the office.
STD hasn’t taken his eyes off of the empty hall that Lazarus disappeared down and Cade nods his head slowly while grabbing STD by the elbow.
Cade Sydal: We have our next objective already, Cassi. We don’t need the office for that.
With that the three walk back the way they came, leaving Justin the camerman alone with the two guards and his thoughts about that ass.
Super U entered this match, agreed to take it on, as his way to start to make his name in the SHOOT Project. As a wayfarer from AlienationOne, SUPER U thought that his unique body type and in ring style would set him up beautifully for success in the Master’s SHOOT Project. He is the consummate professional and consummate gentlemen, tipping his hat to everyone as he walks down to the ring. On the other hand, Thomas Manchester Black is a fighter. Grizzled and hardened from years already in SHOOT.
The match starts off about like you’d expect it to. Super U offers a handshake but TMB ignores him, to Super U’s disappointment. The Faithful find Super U very enjoyable, though perhaps a little out of place. TMB goes to work, exercising the depths of his ability to put a hurting on Super U. Super U is game, though, he gets some good shots in and that surprises both Thomas Manchester Black and the Faithful. Super U actually gets a near fall and that’s when TMB starts taking him a little more seriously. It’s not long after that that Black finds his stride and Super U can’t keep up.
One “Body Bag, Bitches” and a three count later and TMB has made his statement, Super U’s debut has come to a close, and Black stands victorious in the Epicenter.
WINNER: THOMAS MANCHESTER BLACK (8:55)
As Chevelle’s “The Red” pours through the Epicenter, the Faithful respond, nearly foaming at the mouth as CJ Nelson bursts out of the entrance, face formed in a hard scowl. He wastes little time in getting to the ring, climbing up on the apron, and stepping over the top rope. Cameramen swarm around the ring, trying to catch this raging bull from the best angle.
Dutch Harris: CJ Nelson was not scheduled to be here, but damn if he isn’t making an entrance.
Mark Kendrick: And he doesn’t look happy, Dutch.
Dutch Harris: Would you?
He storms to the ropes near the timekeeper’s table, demanding a microphone, the music barely able to cut off before he speaks.
CJ Nelson: Jared fucking Walsh! I know you’re here, you giant fucking pussy. You think your wife wouldn’t tell me you were in town? You think you’re so goddamn sneaky, coming to Vegas? I know you’re here and you’ve got something planned, so instead of skulking around backstage, just get the fuck out here and meet me face to face, you little prick.
CJ paces back and forth, staring at the entrance, ignoring the hard cam and the handhelds. Nothing but a laser focus on the entranceway, trying to ignite the curtain on fire. The Faithful cheer for the monster calling out his prey.
But nothing happens. Nobody steps out. No music starts.
CJ Nelson: Of course. Of course you’re just gonna stay out there, like a little bitch, and hide. That’s what you’re best at, Jared. Running and hiding. Getting other people to do your dirty work. Cowering like a little fucking girl at the first sign of adversity. Fuck you! If you don’t get out here in the next thirty seconds, I swear to Christ, you have NO IDEA the lines I’m willing to cross, Jared. You think you’ve seen my worst? You haven’t–
3OH!3’s “Don’t Trust Me” cuts him off, and the Faithful pop for Jared Walsh’s old theme music. CJ stops in his tracks, staring at the entrance, getting ready for the man to appear.
Dutch Harris: Is someone just trolling CJ now?
Mark Kendrick: I didn’t think it was possible for him to look angrier. He’s full of surprises!
CJ grits his teeth. A vein starts to pulse in his forehead. He’s so angry, in fact, that he hasn’t noticed the cameraman coming up behind him.
He notices it when the camera connects with the back of his head with a solid crack!
Dutch Harris: Holy shit!
CJ staggers, and with another shot, he drops to his hands and knees! The cameraman slams the camera on the back of his head once again, plastic splintering, and he flattens to the mat! He throws the camera down on CJ’s back, and as CJ struggles to his feet, the cameraman throws his baseball cap off.
Mark Kendrick: Jared Walsh hid in the camera crew! That’s despicable!
Dutch Harris: To destroy a camera like that!
Mark Kendrick: And cheap shot CJ, but sure, the camera, that’s the important part.
Jared pulls a flask out of his pocket, swigging it, as CJ stands up to his full 6’8”. Jared pulls a lighter as CJ turns around– and Jared spits fire into CJ’s face! The crowd is unhinged as CJ drops to the mat, screaming, holding his face!
Jared scoops up the microphone, kneeling down to CJ’s head.
Jared Walsh: CJ… always a big fan of the sneak attack, but one of the worst when it comes to spotting them. At least I can count on that… when you’re mad, you get fucking stupid.
That was my personal camera, by the way. It cost me fourteen thousand dollars. I hope you appreciate what that means, because let’s be honest, the bloodthirsty retards that make up the “Faithful” probably don’t give a shit.
The crowd reacts as one would expect them to, with rabid boos.
Jared Walsh: Boo! Boo, Jared! How dare you hold a mirror to our own stupidity! Kind of like I did to you, huh, Ceej?
CJ swings at him, but misses, going back to holding his face.
Jared Walsh: Having some depth perception issues? That’s rough. You had to know this was coming, CJ. You had to know that something painful was in store after the shit you pulled at Asylum. I could have accepted it if it had just been me. I really could have. Hell, I earned it. I’m not proud of what I did at From The Ashes… OK, I’m kinda proud of it… but don’t you get it, CJ? I NEEDED to do that. I needed to make a point. And that point, CJ, which you seem so fit to ignore, was that we… you and me, Long Island Hardcore… have had our moment in the sun. It’s over. We’re done. It’s time to step back and let the next generation have the spotlight. And let’s be honest, CJ, I think you’ve proven pretty fucking well that even after Jane, Lou and I beat you to a goddamn pulp, you STILL can’t see it. You STILL think you’ve got that “one last run” in you.
Well, CJ, we tried that. We tried that “one last run” in 2012, the last time we spent time in this fucking shithole. And I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that it did not end well for us, CJ, and until you came here and started getting involved with your goddamn power fantasy and Tarantino revenge play, I was content to never set foot in this fucking building again.
But here I am, CJ. That’s twice now you’ve done something to make me come back to this… fucking zombie arena and put you down. Because you messed with the girls. Already at their fucking lowest, just lost their titles, and you have to come in and add your fucking bullshit on top of it.
Was that supposed to scare me? Was I supposed to go hide in a fucking hole because CJ Nelson beat up on two women who combined can’t even outweigh him? Because you bloodied my face and gave me a concussion, I’m supposed to just give up and retire?
If that was your plan, CJ, then you really fucked that one away. But if you wanted to make me mad? Well, mission fucking accomplished, pal, because here I am. You want to talk about lines you’ll cross?
Jared steps over to the ropes, hopping down to the floor. He pulls something from under the apron.
Mark Kendrick: What has he got there?
Dutch Harris: Is that– oh, no, Jared. You’re not going there.
Jared Walsh: I got you a present, CJ. I’m pretty sure this was your favorite.
CJ moves his hands, trying to get a look, as Jared holds up a bottle of Jack Daniels, overturning it onto CJ’s burned face! CJ howls in pain, and Jared empties the bottle all over his body, before throwing it down onto CJ’s chest!
Jared Walsh: Your sponsor’s probably not gonna like me too much now, but fuck him, right? He never really liked me to begin with. Don’t worry. You can get another coin tomorrow, buddy. Assuming you can last 24 more hours after that little taste.
Dutch Harris: That is… I don’t have words for how fucked up this is, Mark.
Mark Kendrick: I’m with you, Dutch. Just… wow.
Jared Walsh: You brought this on yourself, CJ. If you had just stayed the fuck away and accepted reality, things could’ve worked out. But you couldn’t. Well, fuck you, CJ. Fuck you, fuck everything you stand for, and, while I’m at it, fuck SHOOT Project and the Faithful for even giving you an outlet for this bullshit. Have a great night, rot in fucking hell.
The Faithful drown Jared in boos, tossing garbage into the ring, and Jared shakes his head, throwing the microphone down, rolling out of the ring, and walking to the entranceway as medical staff rush to the ring. Before they can tend to him, though, CJ is pushing himself to his feet, ignoring the obvious pain in his face as it blisters, his right eye swelled closed! The Faithful explode, and Jared turns to see Nelson on his feet… just for a second, walking toward the ropes, before dropping to his knees! Jared chuckles, stepping through to the back!
Mark Kendrick: I can’t believe what I’ve seen here, Dutch. I’m seriously sick to my stomach.
Dutch Harris: Nobody knows how to hurt us more than our friends, Mark, and Jared Walsh just proved that tonight. Former tag team partners and best friends turned bitter enemies… and I don’t think there’s any repairing something like that. There’s no good ending to this.
Mark Kendrick: And CJ Nelson needs serious medical attention, Dutch, which leaves me wondering how he’s going to perform at Revolution against Eric Rokhar.
Curtis Rose and Cronos Diamante are two SHOOT Project veterans who have never stepped foot in the ring against one another. Rose, who has had a SHOOT career that’s spanned a few years, was last seen wrestling in RCW, where he experienced mild amounts of success after having his confidence shattered by Adrian Corazon many years ago. Diamante on the other hand has been trying to re-discover himself, recognizing that the anger and rage that he was feeling was costing him victories.
The unfortunate fact of the matter for Rose is that Diamante is going to be better than him this evening. Diamante is seasoned and has been in the business for many, many years longer than Rose has and Rose, who is a fighter, will get some good shots in. Diamante, though, has firmly shaken his loose cannon identity and has gotten back to being the thoughtful, calculated Cronos, so he and Curtis Rose actually have a very competitive, very close match. Diamante works hard to keep ahead of the much younger Rose and Rose works to slow Diamante’s momentum down.
The apex of the match comes when Rose attempts his finisher on Diamante, but Cronos is ready for it. Surprisingly to Diamante, Rose manages to get out of Cronos’ finisher as well and the Faithful let them hear it in appreciation as a result. Unfortunately, time is short for Rose who has displayed a much different demeanor than what fans had previously seen in his “Style Warrior” days. Diamante manages to wrap him up and gets him to submit, ending Rose’s night.
WINNER: CRONOS DIAMANTE (13:35)
Abigail Chase stands draped in the crooked shadow of The Ivory Terror, firelight gleaming across the pallid dome of his bald head and the glow of embers mirrored in the orbs of his eyes. He offers Chase his best smile in the corrupt confines of his skybox, all serrated teeth, his forked tongue flicking from side to side behind the gate of sharp enamel.
The lit braziers do little to hide the sheen of sweat that glistens on Abigail’s brow. This interview was requested, and she is doing her job to the best of her abilities. She does not feel safe. She does not feel comfortable. SHOOT Project offered her those workplace assurances once…but that time is long since past.
Abigail Chase: There are rumors, Isaac. People are saying you’ve assembled some sort of army in the desert. They say Valentine Lionheart is involved. They say you’re preying on the desperate in ragged hobo camps, filling your ranks with addicts, the homeless, even the mentally ill. What do you say to that?
Entragian: Dear Abby. A curious kitty cat, just like I remember. Let me ask you a question for once. What is SHOOT Project now? I’ll tell you. It’s the Wild fuckin’ West. It’s a lawless, pitiless place. If I so desired, I could rip your skirt open right now, push you against that wall…and rape the ever loving shit out of you. I could pump a hot load right into your tight little bunghole and watch it drip down your thighs…and WHO WOULD STOP ME, DEAR ABBY?
Isaac motions around him, his pallid hands seeming to revel in the bleakness of the Epicenter.
Entragian: If Jason Johnson was around, he’d surely stop it. I’d be chained and shackled within moments. Kast would fire me and pursue criminal charges. Real Deal would see to it that I languished in a dank little cell for the remainder of my days. Guess what, Abby? Those men are gone. Their SHOOT Project is dead. There are no consequences here. Herald and his mysterious Master PROMOTE the bloodshed and the havoc; they seem even to enjoy watching it play out like some twisted social experiment…
Isaac shrugs, reaching out a pallid hand to grab Abby’s chin and tilt her face upwards.
Entragian: It’s the Wild West, Abby. Understand that. Anything can happen here. Herald’s armed guards simply protect him and keep the unwanted guests out. We heathens are left to our own devices. We can weave together whatever malformed dreamscapes we want…and only the starlit sky is the limit.
Isaac’s grin grows. It grows to proportions that threaten to split the skin of his cheeks.
Entragian: I am weaving, Dear Abby. I am devising certain failsafe measures in the dust of the Mojave. I’m just a headhunter in the Wild West, Abby. Just an ambitious fellow with a rusty ol’ blade looking for a particular scalp…and a particular World Heavyweight Championship.
Isaac violently grips Abigail’s cheek, wrenching her neck around, forcing her to stare through the skybox window down at the vastly changed SHOOT Project that lies beneath. She mewls, his fingers biting into her face…hurting her.
No one stops him from touching her.
No security rushes in to punish him.
There are no consequences at all.
Those days are done in SHOOT Project.
Entragian: See that down there? It’s a whole new world. It’s full of grit, it’s smeared in shit, it’s just a black, bloody hole for the monsters to play in. Recognize what SHOOT Project has become. A metamorphosis has taken place.
And what has emerged from this Master’s cocoon is a deformed, shrieking butterfly that begs for death at the moment of its painful arrival.
Welcome to the latest incarnation of SHOOT Project, Dear Abby.
Welcome to where the monsters walk freely…
In a rematch from their previous Dominion encounter, HISTERIA, the defending RCW Television Champion will put his title on the line against A1W’s contender and member of the American Lions, Victor Thane. Thane will be accompanied by Jackson Jeffries, his tag team partner.
The bell rings and the two explode out of their corners, putting on a display of technique and wrestling prowess that is rare in today’s brawling SHOOT Project. Thane is ready for this challenge, putting work in on HISTERIA and causing the luchador to have to push himself even harder than expected to stave off the challenger. HISTERIA gets some good moves in and for a moment, it looks like Thane is going to be defeated, but Thane is resilient and powers out of several pinning combinations in a row as HISTERIA starts to get frustrated.
Thane capitalizes on that frustration and does some serious damage to HISTERIA with a variety of suplexes. A snap suplex gets held and carried through, only to hit HISTERIA with it two more times before picking him up and chaining that into a belly to belly. Thane gets surprised when HISTERIA manages to kick out after that combination, but he doesn’t dwell on it, choosing to keep the pace high. With a last gasp, HISTERIA hits his finisher, seemingly out of nowhere and draws a two count before somehow, Thane gets his shoulder up. HISTERIA is beside himself and Thane takes advantage, getting back to his feet and bringing him down in a schoolboy rollup and getting the three count!
WINNER: VICTOR THANE – NEW RCW TELEVISION CHAMPION (14:11)