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+--- Thread: Warfare - October 19th, 2026 (/showthread.php?tid=50599)
Warfare - October 19th, 2026 - 'Big' Dick Lichter - 10-20-2026
October - 19 - 2026
WARFARE! LIVE FROM SPECTRUM CENTER  [b]CHARLOTTE, NORTH CAROLINA[/b] Deacon Saint John - vs - John Black Singles Match American Nightmare Latoya Hixx and Razor Blade - vs - The Best Buddies Solomon Kline and ‘Main Event’ Edgecrusher Elimination Tables Match  [b]XWF TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Television Clown © - vs - Kristoffer Arroyo 15 Minute Time Limit [/b]   [b]XWF Tag Team Championship OPEN CALL! WELCOME TO ALL WHO RP FOR IT! Korvayne on Olympus match XWF Tag Team Champion Korvayne will sit high above the ring where she belongs above all of you. The first competitor to tag her shall earn a place at her side as XWF Tag Team Champion! 500/1000 Word Limit (check the poll) |
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https://youtu.be/QS7TyJriSm0?si=JEObNGqV1cLRA_KS
A black screen. The arena in darkness. A few opening notes of music.
And a voice, concealed behind a vocoder.
Voice: Happy Halloween. How about a ghost story? Hearken! and observe how healthily — how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
We see the X-Tron come to life, and we see "John Black" name shot up with the .38 special, then we see on the walkway we see JB standing by the entrance with a towel on his neck. He does some shadowboxing to the camera, then he walks down giving some fans some daps in the process. He then stops by apron, and he throws his towel to the hard cam side. Then he rolls into the ring, and raises his fist in the air and saying "im the man!" as his theme slowly cuts, then he stands in the ring waiting for his opps.
JC: There he is! John Black! The man who’s called the XWF home for fourteen years!
JR: He’s an old man in a game that kills young men, Jacuinde! But he’s facing one of the youngest guns who came here to kill wrestling’s darlings! And he considers JB among those darlings!
JC: Somehow, Black hasn’t been put down yet! But it feels like St. John sees that a challenge that he’s more than willing to accept!
…
The arena lights dim.
A low, ominous instrumental begins to play as Deacon St. John steps onto the stage.
Deacon emerges in an expensive black jacket, a smug grin spread across his face. He surveys the audience as if the entire building is beneath him, then adjusts his cuffs. He doesn't look particularly excited to be here. He looks like a man who has already decided how the evening is going to end.
He begins walking toward the ring, pausing to glance at a fan holding a John Black sign.
Deacon smirks.
He points at the sign, then taps his own chest.
JC: “Deacon St. John! There's the confidence of a man who believes he's destined for something bigger.”
Joe: “Confidence is great. But you better be able to back it up. Deacon's been talking like he's already a main-event star. Tonight, he's got a guy across from him who's been punched in the face by this business for fourteen years and keeps coming back.”
Deacon climbs the steel steps and enters the ring. He walks to the center, spreads his arms, and turns slowly, inviting the boos.
He mouths something toward the camera.
You're welcome.
The crowd responds with louder jeers.
Deacon merely laughs.
| Deacon Saint John - vs - John Black Singles Match |
Neither man moves immediately.
Deacon circles to his left, keeping his hands raised loosely in front of him. Black stands near the center of the ring, his fists hanging by his sides.
Deacon studies him and mutters something under his breath.
Black’s brow darkens, he advances.
Deacon backs away, grinning.
Black suddenly lunges.
Deacon ducks the first wild punch, circles behind him, and drives a sharp knee into the back of Black's thigh. Before Black can turn, Deacon catches him with a spinning short-arm elbow smash that clips him across the jaw.
Black stumbles sideways.
Deacon grabs him by the back of the head and slaps him across the cheek.
JC: “Oh! An insulting shot from Deacon St. John!”
JR: “He's trying to get under his skin. Look at him. He's not even rushing to capitalize. He's waiting to see how John reacts.”
Black slowly turns back toward him.
Deacon spreads his arms.
Black throws a right hand.
Deacon blocks it and answers with a knife-edge chop to the chest.
WHAP!
Another.
WHAP!
Black absorbs both, his chest reddening, but doesn't back down. Deacon delivers a third chop, then grabs Black's wrist and attempts an Irish whip.
Black reverses it.
Deacon hits the ropes, comes back, and tries a clothesline.
Black ducks underneath and rebounds off the opposite side. He catches Deacon with a dropkick that sends him stumbling backward into the corner.
Black follows with a series of stomps to the midsection, forcing Deacon down against the bottom turnbuckle.
The referee begins his count.
“One! Two! Three! Four!”
Black backs away at four.
Deacon pulls himself upright, brushing his hair from his face.
Black charges.
Deacon moves out of the corner and catches him with a pump kick to the stomach. He grabs Black around the waist and drives him into the mat with a gutwrench powerbomb.
The impact shakes the ring.
Deacon doesn't go for the cover immediately. Instead, he stands over Black, looking down at him, shouting with a snarl.
JC: Deacon is doing everything he can to mock Black! He could be going for the cover right now!
JR: St. John doesn’t want a win that’s not a win with STYLE.
DSJ finally hooks the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Black kicks out.
Deacon sits back on his knees and shakes his head, as if shocked Black kicked out.
JC: “St. John showing Black some disrespect here!”
JR: “He’s putting on a show! And watch, he’s still taking it to Black right now!”
Deacon rises and pulls Black up by the wrist. He delivers a forearm to the side of the head, then another, before whipping him into the ropes.
Black returns and eats a spinning short-arm elbow smash.
Deacon hooks him for a DDT.
Black resists, planting his feet. He drives a couple of short punches into Deacon's ribs, then shoves him away.
Deacon responds with a flying knee.
Black drops to one knee, clutching his jaw.
Deacon laughs.
He pulls Black up and attempts a second gutwrench powerbomb.
…But this time, Black slips off Deacon's shoulders behind him.
Deacon spins.
Black drives a knee into his stomach, hooks the head, and plants him with a DDT.
Both men hit the canvas and the crowd roars!
JC: What a counter by Black there!
JR: Still some life in the old soldier yet!
Black rolls onto his side, breathing heavily. He pushes himself up with one hand, then stumbles toward Deacon and drops an elbow across his chest.
He covers.
ONE!
TWO!
Deacon kicks out.
Black remains on top of him for a moment, staring down at DSJ…
Then he grabs Deacon by the hair.
Black drives a forearm into Deacon's face.
Another forearm.
Deacon tries to cover up, but Black pulls him upright and fires a series of haymakers into the body, each one landing with a heavy thud.
Black backs him toward the ropes and whips him across the ring.
Deacon rebounds.
Black catches him with a scoop slam.
Deacon lands hard, and Black immediately climbs onto the second rope.
The crowd rises as Black steadies himself, his legs visibly stiff from the time away from regular competition.
He launches.
DIVING ELBOW DROP!
Black crashes across Deacon's chest.
He hooks the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Deacon kicks out.
Black sits up, frustrated, then looks out at the audience. The crowd cheers him on.
JC: For the first time all night, John Black seems to draw energy from something other than anger.
JR: He’s letting his engine run on bile, but Black runs better on the roar of the crowd!
He pulls Deacon up and attempts to whip him into the corner.
Deacon reverses.
Black crashes chest-first into the turnbuckles.
Deacon rushes in with a shotgun knee that catches Black high in the back. Black falls forward, and Deacon follows with a mudhole stomp to the shoulder blades.
The referee orders him to back off.
Deacon ignores the first warning and stomps again.
“ONE!”
“That's enough!” the referee shouts.
Deacon steps away with his hands raised innocently.
Black drags himself toward the ropes.
Deacon catches him by the ankle and pulls him back to the center of the ring.
He drops down, hooks Black's leg, and turns him over into a Boston crab.
Black's face twists with pain.
Deacon sits deep into the hold, wrenching back as Black reaches desperately toward the ropes.
JC: “Deacon has that Boston crab locked in! He's putting enormous pressure on the lower back!”
JR: “This is smart. You want to keep a guy from exploding with those punches? You damage his base. You make it harder for him to plant his feet and throw those big shots. And if John's back is compromised, that diving elbow becomes a lot harder to pull off, too.”
Black inches forward.
Deacon drags him back.
Black inches forward again.
Deacon leans farther back, laughing.
Black reaches out.
His fingertips brush the bottom rope.
Deacon pulls him back one final time.
Black grits his teeth and digs his forearms into the canvas. With a desperate surge, he twists his hips, rolls onto his back, and kicks Deacon away.
Deacon tumbles backward.
Black scrambles to his feet.
Deacon charges with a clothesline.
Black ducks, catches the arm, and drives a kick into Deacon's midsection. He hooks him and delivers a snap DDT.
Deacon bounces off the mat.
Black rolls him onto his back and drops a knee across his chest before pulling him up again.
He attempts a cradle piledriver.
Deacon senses the danger and begins hammering punches into Black's ribs. Black struggles to maintain his grip, but his back gives way just enough for Deacon to slip free.
Deacon lands behind him and delivers a sharp elbow to the back of the head.
Black stumbles forward.
Deacon spins him around and plants him with a sit-out powerbomb.
The referee drops.
ONE!
TWO!
Black kicks out!
Deacon stares at the official incredulously.
The referee holds up two fingers.
Deacon rises, throwing his arms wide in disbelief.
JC: Before that was play anger, but I think DSJ is actually get frustrated at how hard it is to put down John Black!
JR: He’s been around fourteen years, Jacuinde! In wrestling terms, that’s almost two back-to-back LeBron careers.
Black rolls onto his stomach and starts crawling toward the ropes.
Deacon follows, grabs him by the back of the neck, and drags him upright.
He delivers a slap to the cheek.
Another slap.
Black suddenly drives a fist into Deacon's stomach.
Deacon doubles over.
Black hits him again.
Then again.
Deacon stumbles backward, and Black grabs him by the throat with one hand, shoving him into the corner.
Black unleashes a flurry of body shots, hammering Deacon in the ribs until the referee rushes in to separate them.
“One! Two! Three! Four!”
Black backs up out of the corner…
DSJ takes one inhale, shaking off the flurry…
He suddenly charges, trying to catch Black off guard!
…
But Black catches him with a sudden flying lariat that turns Deacon inside out!
The crowd erupts.
Black drops to one knee, breathing hard, while Deacon lies flat on his back.
JC: “FLYING LARIAT! JOHN BLACK HAS TAKEN DEACON ST. JOHN OFF HIS FEET!”
JR: “That's what I'm talking about! But he's got to keep his head in the game now. Don't get so caught up in proving something to Deacon that you forget to finish the job!”
Black grabs Deacon by the wrist and pulls him upright.
He drives a knee into Deacon's stomach, hooks his head, and attempts to lift him for the Blacka Jacka.
Deacon senses the brainbuster coming and starts throwing punches into Black's ribs.
Black struggles to lift him.
Deacon drops his weight, lands behind Black, and shoves him forward into the ropes.
Black rebounds.
Deacon scoops Black off his feet into powerbomb position…
He lifts Black and launches him backward into the corner!
BUCKLE BOMB!
Black's spine collides with the turnbuckles.
He crumples to the canvas.
JC: Oooof, that move was hideous to look at! Like a murder attempt!
JR: No, that move was exquisite to experience, Jacuinde! Like a murder attempt!
Deacon backs away, watching his opponent with a satisfied expression as Black cradles his spine…
Deacon approaches Black and begins stomping on his back.
Black curls onto his side, trying to protect himself.
Deacon grabs him by the ankle and drags him toward the center of the ring.
He turns him over and applies a sleeper hold.
Black immediately reaches for Deacon's hands, trying to pry them apart.
Deacon sinks his weight behind him, keeping his legs wrapped around Black's waist.
Black struggles.
His hands begin to slow.
The referee drops to one knee and checks him.
“John! Can you continue?”
Black doesn't answer.
Deacon tightens the hold.
“That's it. Give it up. You can stop pretending now.”
Black's right hand falls to the mat.
The referee checks him again.
Black's fingers twitch.
He starts moving his legs, dragging himself forward an inch at a time.
Deacon shakes his head.
“Where the hell are you going?”
Black plants one boot beneath him.
Then the other.
He begins to stand, carrying Deacon's weight on his back.
The crowd rises.
Deacon's eyes widen.
Black staggers backward and drives himself into the corner.
Deacon's back slams against the turnbuckles.
He loosens his grip.
Black does it again.
And again.
On the third impact, Deacon releases the sleeper and falls into the corner.
The two both collapse to the mat as the crowd screams!
JC: What a fight it’s been!
JR: And it’s not over yet, Jacuinde!
Both men slowly rise!
Black throws a right hand.
Deacon answers with a forearm.
Black fires another.
Deacon hits him with a knee.
Black doubles over.
Deacon reaches for the Art Of The Deal.
Black blocks the setup with both hands, shoves Deacon backward, and catches him with a sharp dropkick to the chest.
Deacon stumbles into the ropes.
Black charges.
Deacon attempts to lift him for a pop-up powerbomb.
Black twists in midair, lands behind him, and catches Deacon around the waist.
Deacon reaches back, trying to break the grip.
Black drives a knee into the back of Deacon's leg, forcing him to drop to one knee.
Then Black pulls him upright.
He hooks the head.
The crowd rises as Black finally gets Deacon into position.
BLACKA JACKA!
The brainbuster lands cleanly in the center of the ring.
The impact sends Deacon sprawling.
Black collapses beside him, clutching his lower back.
The audience is on its feet.
JC: “BLACKA JACKA! JOHN BLACK HAS HIT THE BRAINBUSTER!”
JR: “That's it! That's the opening! But look at him! He can barely move! He's got to find a way to get across the ring!”
Black turns onto his stomach.
He begins crawling toward Deacon.
Every movement seems to cost him.
Deacon lies on his back, his arms spread out, staring blankly at the lights.
Black reaches him.
He rolls Deacon onto his back and hooks the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Deacon kicks out!
The arena erupts in disbelief.
Black rolls off him and sits up, his mouth open as he struggles to breathe.
He stares at the referee.
Then at Deacon.
Then down at the mat.
For a moment, he looks completely lost.
The Blacka Jacka should have been enough.
It wasn't.
Deacon begins rolling toward the ropes.
Black sees him moving and grabs his ankle.
He pulls Deacon back to the center.
Deacon kicks wildly, catching Black in the ribs.
Black doubles over.
Deacon scrambles to his feet and stumbles toward the corner.
Black follows, throwing a punch that catches Deacon across the jaw.
Deacon responds with a desperate slap.
Black's expression hardens.
He grabs Deacon by the throat and shoves him against the turnbuckles.
The referee rushes in.
“John! Break it up!”
Black doesn't seem to hear him.
He throws a forearm.
Then another.
Deacon covers up, his grin finally gone.
The referee wedges himself between them and forces Black backward.
Black shoves the official's arms away.
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!”
The referee points at him, warning him that he's one step away from disqualification.
Black stares at the official.
Deacon, meanwhile, slowly pulls himself out of the corner.
He notices Black's attention is elsewhere.
Black returns to focusing on his opponent!
He charges the corner, looking for a stinger splash!
But Deacon forward-rolls and John eats turnbuckle!
JC: Ouch!
Black looks dazed as he turns around…
DSJ hooks the head and prepares for the Art Of The Deal.
Black tries to resist, but Deacon drives a knee into his stomach and forces him into position.
Deacon launches into the somersault.
THE ART OF THE DEAL!
The Unprettier connects.
Black crashes face-first into the canvas.
Deacon rolls him over and hooks both legs.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING! DING! DING!
| Winner: Deacon St. John |
The bell rings.
The crowd erupts in a mixture of cheers and boos as Deacon rolls away from Black, exhausted.
The referee raises Deacon's arm.
Jacuinde: “Deacon St. John gets the victory, but what a fight from John Black. He survived the Cover Charge, survived the Art Of The Deal attempt, and came within inches of putting Deacon away with the Blacka Jacka.”
Joe: “He came in here believing John Black was just an old guy who's accepted his place. But that dude can still fight. He can still hurt you. And when he gets his head together, he's dangerous.”
Jacuinde: “But Deacon got what he wanted in the end. He pushed John to the edge, provoked him into nearly losing control, and then capitalized when John was distracted.”
Joe: “That's the part that matters. John spent the whole match trying to prove he could still be the guy who fights back. Deacon spent the whole match trying to make him forget why he was fighting in the first place. And when it mattered most, Deacon was the one who kept his head.”
https://youtu.be/d1itZiNY5pY?si=oU1gRanuo-J4hVIV
Blackness once more. Darkness once more. A jaunty little tune from a bygone age.
And that voice once more.
Voice: “It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees — very gradually — I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.”
JC: Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for our elimination tables match! The rules are simple: put your opponent through a table, and they're eliminated! The last team with a surviving member wins!
JR: Look at the size difference in this one! Solomon Kline's got his hands full with Razor Blade and Latoya Hixx, and that's BEFORE we get to the fact that his partner is Edgecrusher!
JC: You say that like Edgecrusher is an additional obstacle for Solomon, instead of his partner.
JR: Yes, I am.
As Warfare comes back from commercial break, Razor Blade and Latoya Hixx are already waiting in the ring. Latoya cracks her knuckles while Razor Blade runs the ropes. The team of The American Storm appear ready for tonight’s bout!
…
The lights go out. Fire surrounds the stage. The X-Tron flickers to life. A heartbeat monitor flatlines. Beep.
“Antivist” by Bring Me The Horizon blasts throughout the arena. The X-Tron features key moments from his career, namely making people eat finishers and kendo sticks.
MIDDLE FINGERS UP, IF YOU DON’T GIVE A FUCK!
Solomon Kline appears on stage on his blue Harley Davidson motorcycle! Flames rise up all around him. He rides his bike down the ramp and the flames subside, replaced by snow-like pyro raining down from the ceiling. He rides his bike to the ring and goes around to each side, raising his middle fingers as the song lyrics denote and encouraging the crowd to join in and sing along with his gesture.
As he makes his way to the last side of the ring, he parks his bike with a kickstand and slides under the bottom rope.
IF YOU REALLY BELIEVE IN THE WORDS THAT YOU PREACH
GET OFF YOUR SCREENS AND ONTO THE STREETS! THERE WILL BE NO PEACEFUL REVOLUTION!
NO WAR WITHOUT BLOOD!
Solomon ascends the turnbuckle and looks around the room, taking in the cheers of the crowd before dropping down awaiting the start of the match.
JC: There he is! Solomon Kline! Former X-Treme champion! Son of Crimson Kline!
JR: Solomon is one of the toughest sons ‘a bitches in the XWF! He was called Psycho for a reason, he will fight anyone at any time!
JC: And he’s teaming nowadays with Edgecrusher!
JR: Which goes to show just how Psycho Solomon is. He’s willing to fight American Storm with a handicap!
Solomon Kline stands in his corner, staring across the ring at Razor Blade and Latoya Hixx. His jaw is clenched, his shoulders squared, and his eyes move between his two opponents like a man calculating the precise number of bones he's about to have broken.
Then he looks over his shoulder.
His corner is empty.
JC: Wait a minute. Where's Edgecrusher?
JR: Maybe he's already been eliminated!
JC: The match JUST started!
JR: Then he's setting a new personal record!
MEEC: Come on! Come on! I’m in a rush! My match is starting soon!
NCPP: Sir, this is a North Carolina Pulled Pork and YOU haven’t paid.
‘Main Event’ Edgecrusher is at the front of the line of the arena’s pulled pork food cart. The cashier taps her foot impatiently.
MEEC: I just need a plate of pulled pork! For energy! Come on, I’ll get you exposure! My pre-show was sponsored by Mountain Dew!
NCPP: Just reach into that fannypack around your waist and pay for the pulled pork with money!
A line cook sets down a plate of pulled pork and hits the bell.
YOINK! In a flash, Edgecrusher grabs the plate.
MEEC: Thanks!
NCPP: Hey!
Edgecrusher tries to run away with the pulled pork!
…
He gets about twenty-five feet down the way.
He runs out of breath.
He bends his knees, trying to catch his breath.
…
He brings himself down to lying prone on the floor.
…He uses the plate of pulled pork as a pillow.
Kline closes his eyes for a moment. He takes a deep breath, turns back toward the opposition, and motions for both of them to bring it.
Razor grins.
Latoya cracks her knuckles.
The bell rings.
| American Storm Latoya Hixx and Razor Blade - vs - The Best Buddies Solomon Kline and ‘Main Event’ Edgecrusher Elimination Tables Match |
Both members of American Storm come at Kline together.
Kline meets Razor with a stiff forearm to the jaw, staggering the American Nightmare backward. He pivots just in time to catch Latoya charging in with a clothesline, ducks underneath it, and drives a kick into her abdomen. Before she can retaliate, Kline grabs her around the waist and tries to lift her!
He gets her about three inches off the ground.
Latoya looks down at him.
Kline looks up at her.
JC: Kline is trying to lift Hixx!
JR: HE'S TRYING TO DEADLIFT A DUMP TRUCK!
Latoya clubs him across the back and shoves him away. Razor returns with a running dropkick that catches Kline square in the chest, sending him stumbling into the corner.
Razor charges.
Kline gets a boot up!
Razor eats it, staggers backward, and Kline follows with a running clothesline that sends him tumbling through the ropes and onto the floor.
Kline doesn't have time to celebrate. Latoya barrels into him with a corner splash, crushing him against the turnbuckles. She grabs him by the throat and hurls him halfway across the ring with a release German suplex.
Kline lands hard.
Latoya flexes.
JR: YOU DON'T NEED A GAME PLAN WHEN YOUR GAME PLAN IS TO HIT SOMEBODY SO HARD THEY FORGET THEIR OWN NAME!
JC: I don't think that's an officially recognized wrestling strategy.
JR: LOOK AT THE RESULTS, JACUINDE!
Latoya steps through the ropes and begins dragging a table into the ring. Razor joins her, sliding another table beneath the bottom rope.
They unfold the first table and position it near the center of the ring.
Kline is already getting back to his feet.
Razor catches him from behind with a Russian legsweep, dropping him to the mat. Latoya follows with a knee drop across his chest, then hauls him up and delivers a fallaway slam that sends him skidding toward the corner.
Kline tries to pull himself upright using the ropes.
Razor catches him with a Disaster Kick!
Kline crumples.
Latoya points toward the table.
The two members of American Nightmare exchange a nod.
JR: This could be it! They're working together beautifully, and Kline is running out of places to go!
JC: THEY'RE GONNA SEND HIM THROUGH THAT TABLE AND THEN SOMEBODY NEEDS TO CHECK ON EDGECRUSHER. I SUSPECT HE'S EATEN HIS WAY THROUGH THE ENTIRE CATERING DEPARTMENT!
Latoya and Razor haul Kline up and position themselves on either side of him. They hook his arms and begin trying to lift him into a double back body drop, aiming to send him crashing backward through the table.
For one horrible second, Kline's boots leave the mat.
The table waits beneath him.
Razor and Latoya begin the lift.
And then Kline fights.
He kicks his legs wildly, twists his body, and somehow manages to slip free of their grip. As both opponents stumble forward, Kline catches Razor around the head with one arm and Latoya with the other.
DOUBLE DDT!
The entire arena erupts as both members of American Nightmare are driven face-first into the canvas!
JC: OH MY GOODNESS! HE GOT BOTH OF THEM!
JR: HOW?! HOW DID HE DO THAT?!
JC: Desperation, Joe!
JR: WELL, HE BETTER HAVE A LOT MORE OF IT!
Kline rolls onto his back, gasping for air. He lies there for several seconds, staring at the ceiling, as though contemplating whether the sweet release of unconsciousness might be preferable to continuing this contest.
Then Latoya starts moving.
Kline sits up.
He scrambles to his feet.
Razor is pulling himself toward the ropes. Kline intercepts him with a superkick that sends him tumbling back to the mat. Latoya gets upright and swings wildly, but Kline ducks beneath the blow and drives a series of forearms into her jaw.
One.
Two.
Three.
He backs her against the ropes, hits the opposite side, and comes charging forward with a spear!
Latoya catches him!
She staggers backward under the impact but remains standing, her arms wrapped around Kline's waist. She tries to hoist him for a slam.
Kline desperately elbows her in the side of the head.
Once.
Twice.
Latoya's grip loosens.
Kline slips free, grabs her around the head, and drives her down with a chokeslam!
No.
Not quite.
Latoya's sheer size prevents him from getting the full lift. Instead, she crashes down awkwardly onto her knees and hands, leaving her dazed and vulnerable.
Kline sees his opportunity.
He grabs her.
DUST TO DUST!
The vertebreaker connects!
Latoya is down, and for the first time in this match, Solomon Kline has the advantage.
He rolls away from her and crawls toward the nearest table. With a visible struggle, he drags it into position and unfolds its legs. He then grabs Latoya by the hair and shoulder, hauling the powerhouse to her feet.
JC: He's going for it! Kline is trying to eliminate Latoya Hixx!
JR: SOMEBODY GET EDGECRUSHER OUT HERE! I DON'T CARE IF HE'S GOT A MOUTHFUL OF BRISKET! HIS PARTNER NEEDS HIM!
Kline positions Latoya in front of the table and hooks her for another Dust to Dust.
He lifts.
Latoya struggles.
Kline's knees buckle under her weight.
But somehow, through sheer stubbornness and a refusal to let his own body acknowledge the existence of good judgment, he gets her up.
He drops backward…
…But behind him, Razor shoves the table out of the way!
Latoya hits the mat, but doesn’t go through the table!
JC: Kline hits the move! But Razor saves Latoya!
JR: How the Hell is Kline supposed to overcome the numbers game here?!?
Kline rolls onto his side, exhausted. He looks toward where he thinks should be the wreckage of the table…
But sees Razor setting the table back up…
Kline exhales exasperatedly…
Before forcing himself up and pointing at Razor, and motioning for him to come on.
Razor obliges.
Razor charges with a clothesline, but Kline ducks. Kline swings a forearm, but Razor blocks it and fires back with a knee to the abdomen. He grabs Kline around the waist and drives him backward with a snap powerslam.
Razor scrambles up and immediately begins setting up the second table.
He unfolds it near the center of the ring, then turns toward Kline, who's using the ropes to pull himself upright.
Razor rushes forward.
Kline catches him with a boot to the stomach.
He hooks Razor's head.
The crowd rises.
TODD: WAIT A SECOND! KLINE'S GOT HIM! IS HE GOING FOR DUST TO DUST?!
Kline starts to lift.
Razor fights desperately, hammering Kline's ribs with elbows. Kline staggers, but he refuses to release the hold.
Then—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A familiar entrance theme hits the arena speakers.
Kline freezes.
His head turns toward the entrance ramp.
JC: ‘Main Event’ Edgecrusher! Here’s here!
JR: I was hoping he’d died of pulled pork.
There he is.
'Main Event' Edgecrusher.
The veteran emerges onto the stage, grinning from ear to ear. His shirt has a fresh barbecue stain down the front, and he is licking the last traces of sauce from his fingers as though he's just finished the finest meal of his life.
He pauses to wave at the crowd.
Then he begins ambling down the ramp.
Kline releases Razor so abruptly that the American Nightmare nearly falls over.
Edgecrusher stops halfway down the ramp.
He looks at Kline.
He looks at his fingers.
He looks back at Kline.
"Pulled pork."
Kline stares at him.
"WHAT?!"
"North Carolina style! They had the vinegar sauce, the slaw, the little buns—"
"YOU'VE BEEN GONE FOR THE ENTIRE MATCH!"
Edgecrusher raises a finger.
"Technically, I haven't been gone. I've been right here."
He gestures vaguely toward the catering area.
Kline looks like he might actually murder his own partner.
"You LEFT ME IN A HANDICAP MATCH!"
Edgecrusher frowns.
"Well, I didn't want you to feel left out. Everybody was having a good time."
Kline turns away from him, shouting something that the cameras don't quite pick up.
DROPICK!
Latoya Hixx, who has somehow recovered enough to reach the apron, springs into action. She launches herself through the ropes and dropkicks Kline square in the back.
Kline stumbles forward.
Edgecrusher is still on his hands and knees, trying to get his bearings after sliding into the ring.
Razor sees him.
Latoya sees him.
They exchange a look.
A terrible, beautiful, synchronized look.
JC: OH NO.
JR: OH, YES!
Razor grabs Edgecrusher around the waist.
Latoya catches him from the side.
Together, they hoist the bewildered veteran off the mat.
Edgecrusher's eyes widen.
"Wait, wait, wait—"
DEATH DROP!
They hurl him backward through the waiting table in the center of the ring!
CRAAAAASH!
The table explodes beneath him.
The referee immediately signals the elimination.
| Edgecrusher has been eliminated! |
JC: EDGECRUSHER HAS BEEN ELIMINATED! EDGECRUSHER IS OUT!
JR: HE JUST GOT HERE!
JC: HE WAS HERE FOR ABOUT SEVEN SECONDS!
JR: AND HE SPENT SIX OF THEM ON THE FLOOR!
JC: And now the table is coated in barbecue sauce!
Razor and Latoya rise to their feet, breathing heavily but grinning. Latoya has recovered enough to stand tall, and Razor throws his arms wide, shouting toward the crowd.
…
When Kline catches Blade by the throat!
Latoya in shock lunges in from the opposite side.
Kline catches her by the throat, too.
For a moment, all three wrestlers stand frozen in the center of the ring.
Kline's arms are trembling. His legs are barely holding him upright. Razor is clawing at Kline's wrist, while Latoya tries to pry his hand loose.
Kline looks from one to the other.
His expression is pure, unfiltered fury.
He takes a step forward.
Another step.
He grits his teeth.
His knees bend.
Kline roars.
"...OFF!"
DOUBLE CHOKESLAM!
Kline lifts both opponents off their feet and drives them down through the same table in one thunderous motion!
KRAAAAAAASH!
The table shatters beneath Razor and Latoya.
The referee rushes over to check both members of American Nightmare. Neither moves.
He signals the eliminations.
| Eliminated: Razor Blade and Latoya Hixx! |
| Winner: Solomon Kline (and Edgecrusher)! The Best Buddies! |
JC: OH MY GOD! HE GOT THEM BOTH! HE GOT THEM BOTH THROUGH THE TABLE!
JR: THAT'S IT! THAT'S THE WHOLE MATCH! THAT MAN JUST CHOKESLAMMED TWO PEOPLE THROUGH ONE TABLE!
Kline remains standing in the middle of the wreckage, chest heaving, eyes blazing.
He looks down at Razor and Latoya.
Then he turns toward the broken table where Edgecrusher lies.
The veteran is stirring.
"Hey, buddy!" Edgecrusher calls weakly. "Did we win?"
Kline stares at him.
JC: An incredible performance from Solomon Kline tonight! He fought through the numbers game, eliminated Latoya Hixx, and then put both members of American Nightmare through one table!
JR: I'M TELLING YOU, TODD, THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF SOMETHING SPECIAL FOR THE BEST BUDDIES!
JC: You really think so?
JR: No. But, it might be something for Kline!
https://youtu.be/W3pBXe6qfeY?si=69SBwoBBLXUuQIGk
The void. The abyss. Shadows over the audience.
Our tale continues.
Voice: “If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.
I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye — not even his — could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out — no stain of any kind — no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all.”
The arena is bathed in a deep red light that brings out the shadows in every nook and cranny as "Deep Set" by Greg Puciato starts to play. Kristoffer Arroyo steps through the entrance way, looking cool and confident behind is bright pink shades. He saunters down to the ring, taking his time and seeming to savor the moment before suddenly exploding into a slide into the ring. He then steps through the ropes onto the ring apron, where he wraps his legs around the middle rope and hangs himself upside down with his arms outstretched like an inverted cross. He smiles for the camera, revealing long sharpened incisors, before sitting up and rolling up and over the top rope and to the canvas. He then proceeds to get to a neutral corner and wait for the contest to begin.
JC: “Kristoffer Arroyo demanded that management begin taking him seriously: and so to prove how seriously they are taking him, they’ve booked him in a match against a clown!”
JR: “But not just ANY clown, Jacquinde! They’ve booked him in a match against The aptly named Television Champion, Television Clown! And after what Arroyo did to Deena Hixx clown last Warfare, I’m expecting bloodsports tonight.”
Television Clown's music hits.
Nothing happens.
[b]HONK![/b]
JR: "Oh not this trick again!"
Arroyo turns around to find Television Clown already standing behind him!
[b]XWF TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Television Clown © - vs - Kristoffer Arroyo 15 Minute Time Limit |
The bell rings. Television Clown steps forward and offers Arroyo a handshake, wiggling his fingers with an exaggerated grin. Arroyo stares at the extended hand, then kicks Clown directly in the stomach. Clown doubles over, and Arroyo grabs him by the back of the head and launches him across the ring. Clown bounces off the canvas and rolls toward the ropes, clutching his stomach.
Clown scrambles to his feet and reaches into his tights. He pulls out a cream pie and thrusts it toward Arroyo's face. Arroyo catches his wrist. The two men stare at each other. Arroyo looks at the pie, then back at Clown.
JC: He's actually brought a pie into the ring! What is this guy thinking?
JR: Dude, this is a grown man carrying baked goods in his pants to a professional wrestling match! What is the strategy here? Is he going to defend the championship with pastry?
Arroyo headbutts him. The pie explodes across Clown's face. Cream and crust scatter across the canvas. Arroyo grabs Clown by the hair, yanks him forward, and plants him with a running STO. Clown hits the mat hard, his arms flailing as he tries to cover his face. Arroyo mounts him and begins throwing punches.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Clown desperately covers his head. Arroyo grabs both wrists and pins them against the canvas, driving another forearm into his jaw.
JC: Arroyo is unloading on the champion! This is a complete dismantling in the opening minute!
JR: There's a real difference between somebody who knows how to fight and somebody who's figured out how to entertain a crowd. Television Clown is an entertainer. Arroyo is trying to take his head off. Look at those punches! Poor clown doesn't even know where he is right now.
Arroyo pulls Clown upright and drives a knee into his stomach. He doubles him over, grabs the back of his neck, and smashes another knee into his face.
TEATRO GROTTESCO!
Clown collapses backward. Arroyo drops across his chest and hooks a leg.
JR: This TV title match could be over in record time!
1!
2!!
Clown kicks out!
JC: Not quite, Joe! But I think Arroyo’s already getting close!
Arroyo sits up and stares down at him. He grabs Clown by the throat and lifts him off the mat. Clown's legs kick wildly as Arroyo holds him suspended, his expression completely vacant. Arroyo suddenly drives him down with a chokeslam that shakes the ring.
JC: What impact! Television Clown has been thrown around like a rag doll!
JR: That's a big man getting slammed into the ground with bad intentions. And you can see Arroyo isn't even breathing hard. He's not trying to conserve energy. He's trying to hurt this guy as badly as he possibly can before that fifteen-minute clock runs out.
Arroyo kneels beside Clown. His lips curl back, revealing his fangs.
Clown's painted grin trembles.
Arroyo grabs him by the jaw and bites into his forehead!
Television Clown screams!
Arroyo releases him, allowing him to roll onto his side. Blood runs down through the white makeup, turning his face into a grotesque red mask. Arroyo catches him by the shoulder and bites him again, sinking his fangs into the side of his neck.
JC: Good God! The referee needs to do something about this!
The referee rushes over, shouting at Arroyo to release the champion. Arroyo slowly raises his head, blood dripping from his mouth, and looks at the official. The referee stops short. He glances at Clown, then at Arroyo, seemingly uncertain how to proceed.
JR: What do you want him to do, JC? He's dealing with a vampire! You can't exactly take the guy's teeth away. They're part of his body. The referee has to decide whether he's going to let this continue, and right now Arroyo looks like he wants to eat the entire roster.
Arroyo rises and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Clown crawls toward the ropes, leaving streaks of blood across the canvas. Arroyo follows at a leisurely pace, grabs him by the ankle, and drags him back to the center of the ring.
Clown rolls onto his back and throws a desperate kick. Arroyo catches the leg, twists it, and drops him with a dragon screw. Clown clutches his knee. Arroyo stomps it once, twice, three times. He grabs Clown's leg again and twists it until the champion rolls onto his stomach, screaming into the canvas.
Arroyo hauls Clown upright and whips him into the ropes. Clown rebounds, and Arroyo catches him around the waist, lifting him high before throwing him backward with a German suplex. Clown lands on his shoulders and rolls toward the corner.
Arroyo stalks after him.
Clown reaches into his tights again.
JC: No! Don't tell me he's got another one!
Clown produces a second cream pie and holds it out like a shield. Arroyo stops in front of him. Clown attempts a weak swing with the pie.
Arroyo stomps his hand.
The pie falls.
Arroyo grabs Clown by the throat and pulls him out of the corner. He drives him face-first into the turnbuckle, then repeats the motion twice more. Clown slumps against the ropes, his arms draped over the middle strand.
Arroyo steps back.
RUNNING CANNONBALL!
His entire body crashes into Clown, crushing him against the turnbuckles. Arroyo pulls him out of the corner and plants him with another running STO.
Arroyo hooks the leg!
JC: This has gotta be it right here!
JR: That clown had a good run, but it’s ending now!
1!
2!!
3- NO!
Arroyo releases the cover before the referee can finish signaling the fall!
He grabs the referee's wrist and pulls him away from Clown.
JC: What is he doing? That was three!
Arroyo shakes his head and points down at the champion.
JR: Oh, he doesn't want to win yet. Look at him! He had the match won, and he stopped the referee himself. This is personal. Arroyo HATES clowns! He wants to punish this clown!
Arroyo drags Clown upright, hooks both arms, and drives him into the canvas with another Romeo's Lament. Clown crumples. Arroyo rolls him onto his back and covers again.
1!
2!!
Arroyo lifts Clown's shoulder.
The referee throws his hands up in frustration. Arroyo grabs Clown by the face and slaps him repeatedly, each strike snapping his head from side to side. He then pulls Clown into a kneeling position and whispers something into his ear.
Clown shakes his head.
Arroyo bites into his neck again.
Clown thrashes and pounds the mat. Arroyo holds him in place until the referee threatens to intervene. Finally, Arroyo releases his grip and shoves Clown onto his back.
JC: We're approaching five minutes, and I don't think Television Clown has landed a single meaningful offensive move. He's been beaten from pillar to post!
JR: His offense is survival. That's all it is right now. He's trying to get away from the guy who's biting the hell out of him. And Arroyo is cutting off every escape route. That's what makes this so dangerous. He's not giving Clown a second to breathe!
Arroyo grabs Clown's wrist and drags him toward the center of the ring. He steps over the arm and twists it behind Clown's back, wrenching the shoulder. Clown screams and kicks at the canvas. Arroyo releases him and immediately stomps the shoulder.
He lifts Clown into a belly-to-belly suplex and launches him across the ring. Clown lands near the ropes, rolls onto his stomach, and tries to pull himself upright.
Arroyo charges.
DIVING FOOT STOMP!
Arroyo crashes down across Clown's upper body. Clown lies motionless for several seconds before weakly rolling onto his side.
Arroyo crouches beside him, grabs his cheeks, and forces his face upward.
"Smile."
Clown shakes his head.
Arroyo slaps him.
"Smile."
Another slap.
Clown tries to cover his face. Arroyo grabs his wrists, pulls them away, and sinks his fangs into his shoulder. Clown's scream echoes through the arena.
JR: This is disturbing, man. Arroyo is treating this like a feeding session! He's not even looking for a pin. He's looking for blood!
JC: Clown blood, specifically! This guy HATES clowns!
Arroyo releases Clown and rises. He wipes his mouth and looks at the crowd. He spreads his arms, inviting the reaction, then turns back toward the champion.
Clown crawls toward the ropes. Arroyo grabs him by the waist and lifts him into a Saito suplex. Clown crashes onto his shoulders and neck. Arroyo rolls through, pulls him upright, and hits a second German suplex.
Clown lands hard.
Arroyo holds the waist and delivers a third.
Clown bounces off the canvas, his body going limp before he rolls onto his stomach.
Arroyo releases him and stands over him.
JC: Six minutes gone, and this is becoming a massacre. Television Clown has been thrown around, bitten, stomped, and dropped on his head. Arroyo is showing no signs of slowing down!
JR: You have to wonder what the plan was here. Television Clown has the Television Championship, and that title means you're supposed to be able to wrestle. But there's no game plan for this. You can't pull a pie out of your tights and expect it to work against a guy who's willing to bite through your forehead!
Arroyo grabs Clown by the hair and drags him to his feet. Clown throws a weak punch into Arroyo's chest. Arroyo looks down at the spot where the punch landed.
He looks back at Clown.
Clown throws another punch.
Arroyo catches the wrist and twists it until Clown drops to his knees. Arroyo drives a knee into his face, then pulls him upright and hits another running STO.
Clown lands flat on his back.
Arroyo doesn't cover. He walks to the corner, climbs to the second rope, and waits for Clown to move. When Clown finally rolls onto his stomach, Arroyo launches himself into a diving foot stomp that catches him across the back.
Clown screams and rolls over.
Arroyo grabs his throat.
CHOKESLAM!
The impact rattles the ring. Arroyo stands over Clown and shakes his head, seemingly disappointed that the champion is still conscious.
JC: Arroyo is looking at him like he can't believe this guy is still moving!
JR: A clown’s body is remarkably resilient, JC. But there's a limit. And the problem for Clown is that Arroyo keeps finding ways to push him closer to that limit. He's not letting up. He's not giving him a chance to recover.
Arroyo pulls Clown upright and hooks both arms.
DOUBLE UNDERHOOK SIT-OUT DDT!
Then Arroyo grabs Clown's face and drags him into a seated position. He presses his forehead against Clown's and speaks quietly, his words inaudible to the crowd.
Then he bites him again.
Clown's hands flail against Arroyo's shoulders. The referee grabs Arroyo's arm and pulls him away. Arroyo finally releases his grip, rises, and shoves the official backward.
The referee stumbles but stays on his feet.
Arroyo turns back to Clown.
JC: Nine minutes have elapsed in this match, and the referee is barely in control!
JR: In control?! The referee hasn’t had control of this match since the bell rang!
Arroyo pulls Clown into the corner and props him against the bottom turnbuckle. He backs across the ring, lowers his shoulder, and charges.
RUNNING CANNONBALL!
Clown's body is crushed against the turnbuckles. Arroyo grabs him by the ankles and drags him into the center of the ring.
He lifts him.
SIT-OUT POWERBOMB!
Clown crashes down. Arroyo holds the legs and stacks him for the cover.
1!
2!!
Kristoffer lets him out again!
Then Arroyo grabs Clown by the hair and pulls him upright. Clown's legs wobble. His face is a mess of smeared paint and blood. He reaches toward the ropes, but Arroyo catches him around the waist and throws him backward with a belly-to-belly suplex.
Clown lands near the center of the ring.
Arroyo follows with a running knee to the face.
Clown drops.
Arroyo drags him upright and hooks both arms again.
ROMEO'S LAMENT!
Clown crashes down.
Arroyo covers.
One.
Two.
Arroyo lifts Clown's shoulder himself.
JC: Again! He had him! He had the champion beaten, and he's refusing to let the match end!
JR: He's obsessed. That's what this is. Arroyo could have walked out of here with the Television Championship several minutes ago. Instead, he's deliberately prolonging this because he wants to hurt that clown. That's a different kind of mindset. That's not somebody who's just trying to win. That's somebody who has decided every clown deserves to suffer!
Arroyo drags Clown to the ropes and pulls him upright. He hooks an arm around Clown's head and drives him face-first into the top turnbuckle. He repeats the motion, then throws him backward with a straight jacket German suplex.
Clown lands on his shoulders and rolls onto his side.
Arroyo grabs the clown nose from the canvas, holds it up, and stares at it. He places it on Clown's chest, then stomps it into the mat.
He grabs Clown's jaw.
Clown's eyes widen as Arroyo bares his fangs.
Arroyo bites into the side of his neck and holds him there until the referee begins shouting a warning. Blood spills down Clown's chest and onto the canvas. Arroyo finally releases him and rises, licking his lips.
JC: Five minutes remain. Five minutes for Television Clown to survive this. And right now, I don't know how he's going to do it!
JR: Look at Arroyo! He's covered in blood, he's breathing hard, and he's still smiling. This guy is enjoying himself. That's what makes him so dangerous. A lot of people get into a fight and lose their composure. Arroyo is completely comfortable doing this. He's operating in his element.
Clown rolls onto his stomach and tries to crawl toward the ropes. Arroyo steps on his back and grabs his head, forcing him to remain in place. He pulls Clown onto his knees and drives an elbow into his jaw.
Another elbow.
Another.
Arroyo releases him, lets him collapse, and steps away.
Clown tries to push himself up.
Arroyo charges.
SPEAR!
Clown folds around the impact. Arroyo rolls through, grabs him by the waist, and lifts him into a running powerbomb. Clown crashes onto the canvas, his body bouncing from the impact.
Arroyo pulls him upright again.
SECOND POWERBOMB!
Clown lands hard.
Arroyo stands over him, then grabs his wrist and drags him toward the center of the ring. He hooks both arms and lifts.
THIRD ROMEO'S LAMENT!
Clown's head and shoulders slam into the mat. Arroyo covers.
JC: Please, ‘Vamp’, just end it here! Let this bloodbath be over!
1!
2!!
Arroyo releases the cover.
The referee signals the fall, but Arroyo immediately grabs his wrist and pulls him away.
JC: HE DID IT AGAIN! He stopped another count! Arroyo is deliberately keeping this match alive!
JR: I've never seen anything like this. He has the match won time and time again, but he keeps refusing to let the referee finish the count. He's not thinking about the title anymore. He's thinking about Clown. He's thinking about making this guy pay for every joke, every cream pie, every stupid stunt. This is personal in a way that goes beyond wrestling!
Arroyo pulls Clown upright and slaps him across the face. Clown barely reacts. Arroyo slaps him again, then grabs him by the throat and lifts him into the air.
CHOKESLAM!
Clown crashes down.
Arroyo kneels beside him, staring at his face. He reaches down, wipes away some of the blood and paint, and looks at his fingers.
He shakes his head.
Arroyo grabs Clown by the jaw and bites him again.
Clown's body jerks.
The referee rushes over and grabs Arroyo's shoulder. Arroyo turns slowly, his mouth still against Clown's neck. The referee backs away, shaking his head in disbelief.
JC: The referee has to consider stopping this match. There's no way Television Clown can continue taking this kind of punishment!
JR: You can see the referee thinking about it. But Clown hasn't asked for the match to be stopped, and Arroyo keeps releasing him when the official gets close. It's a horrible situation. The referee is trying to enforce the rules while watching a guy get absolutely destroyed in front of him.
Arroyo finally releases Clown and drags him into the center of the ring. He stands over him and spreads his arms. The crowd roars as Arroyo looks around the arena.
He turns back to Clown.
Arroyo hauls Clown to his feet. Clown's knees buckle. Arroyo hooks him for another Romeo's Lament, but Clown suddenly slips free and stumbles toward the ropes.
The crowd rises.
Clown grabs the ropes and pulls himself upright. Arroyo turns toward him.
Clown reaches into his tights.
He pulls out a third cream pie.
JC: YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!
Clown throws the pie.
Arroyo catches it directly in the face.
For the first time all match, Arroyo is left standing still.
The crowd erupts.
JR: THIS COULD BE THE TURNING POINT! I CAN SENSE THE MOMENTUM IN THE BUILDING SHIFTING WITH JUST TWO MINUTES LEFT IN THIS CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH!
Clown throws a wild punch!
It barely connects…..
Arroyo slowly wipes cream from his eyes.
He looks at his hand.
He looks at Clown.
Clown backs away slowly.
JR: Oh no…
Arroyo lunges.
Clown tries to escape, but Arroyo catches him around the waist and launches him across the ring with a belly-to-belly suplex. Clown lands hard and rolls toward the corner.
Arroyo charges.
RUNNING CANNONBALL!
Clown is crushed against the turnbuckles.
JC: One minute remaining! One minute, and Television Clown has been through hell tonight!
JR: It’s now or never for Arroyo: he has to quit playing with his food and win this match in the next 60 seconds!
Arroyo hooks both arms.
Clown's feet leave the canvas.
ROMEO'S LAMENT!
Clown crashes down.
Arroyo stands over him, breathing heavily. He raises one hand toward the referee, signaling that he is finally ready to end the match.
He grabs Clown's leg.
The referee drops into position.
Suddenly, Judd Hollow storms down the ramp!
JC: WAIT A MINUTE! THAT'S JUDD HOLLOW! THE X-TREME CHAMPION IS HERE!
Judd slides into the ring and blasts Arroyo with a clothesline! Arroyo spins across the canvas and crashes onto his back. Judd immediately mounts him and begins throwing punches.
JR: WHAT THE HELL IS JUDD HOLLOW DOING HERE?!
Arroyo shoves Judd away and scrambles to his feet. Judd charges and catches him with a ripcord lariat that sends him stumbling into the ropes. Arroyo rebounds with a running knee, catching Judd square in the face.
Judd staggers.
Arroyo grabs him by the throat.
CHOKESLAM!
Judd crashes down.
Arroyo drops onto him with a series of punches, driving his fists into Judd's face. Judd covers up, then shoves Arroyo off and rolls to his knees.
Arroyo charges.
Judd catches him around the waist and drives him into the corner. He delivers a series of heavy shoulder thrusts, each one forcing Arroyo farther back against the turnbuckles.
Judd grabs him by the throat.
CHOKE BOMB!
Arroyo crashes onto the canvas.
Judd stands over him, shouting something inaudible. Arroyo rolls onto his stomach, pushes himself up, and launches a kick into Judd's knee. Judd stumbles. Arroyo rises and cracks him with a spinning elbow.
Judd drops to one knee.
Arroyo grabs his head and pulls him upright.
TEATRO GROTTESCO!
The running knee catches Judd in the face.
Judd staggers backward into the ropes, barely remaining upright.
JC: Arroyo is fighting back! He has been beating Television Clown for fourteen minutes, and now he's trading blows with the X-Treme Champion!
JR: This is what makes Arroyo so dangerous. He's been in a fight for fourteen minutes, he's covered in blood, and he's still capable of exploding like that. Judd is a monster in his own right, but he has to be careful. Arroyo can end this with one clean shot.
Judd catches Arroyo with a forearm to the jaw. Arroyo answers with a knee to the ribs. Judd grabs him around the waist and attempts a German suplex, but Arroyo drives an elbow into his temple and breaks free.
Judd turns.
Arroyo grabs his wrist and pulls him forward.
RIPCORD LARIAT!
Judd ducks.
He catches Arroyo around the waist and throws him backward with a German suplex. Arroyo lands hard, rolls through, and springs back to his feet. Judd charges with a spear.
Arroyo sidesteps.
Judd crashes shoulder-first into the turnbuckles.
Arroyo grabs him from behind and delivers a Saito suplex. Judd lands on his shoulders and rolls toward the center of the ring.
Arroyo follows, grabs him by the throat, and lifts him into a chokeslam.
Judd twists in midair and lands behind him.
SIT-OUT TOMBSTONE!
Arroyo barely escapes, twisting free and shoving Judd into the ropes. Judd rebounds and catches Arroyo with a brutal spinning elbow that sends both men crashing to the canvas.
JC: Only thirty seconds remain! The clock is running out, and neither man is backing down!
Judd pulls himself up using the ropes. Arroyo rises across the ring, blood running down his face. The two men lock eyes.
They charge.
Judd throws a clothesline. Arroyo ducks and drives a knee into Judd's stomach. Judd responds with a headbutt that sends Arroyo stumbling backward.
Arroyo grabs Judd by the throat and attempts another chokeslam, but Judd drives a knee into his abdomen and breaks free. Judd grabs Arroyo around the waist and throws him backward with a German suplex.
Arroyo lands hard.
Judd rolls through and hauls him upright.
Judd drives Arroyo into the canvas with a devastating powerbomb, leaving him sprawled motionless near the center of the ring.
JC: JUDD HAS PUT ARROYO DOWN! ARROYO IS OUT!
Judd looks down at Arroyo, then turns toward Television Clown. The champion is still lying near the ropes, barely moving, his face covered in blood and cream.
Judd grabs Clown by the ankle and drags his lifeless body toward the center of the ring.
JR: What is he doing? Wait a second! He's bringing Clown over!
Judd hauls Clown up just enough to throw him forward.
TELEVISION CLOWN LANDS ACROSS ARROYO'S CHEST!
Judd shoves Clown into position and hooks his arm over Arroyo's body.
The referee drops to the canvas.
JC: ONLY TEN SECONDS REMAIN!
JR: TELEVISION CLOWNS ONLY NEEDS 3!
1!
2!!
3!!!
| Winner and STILL TV Champion- Television Clown |
JC: HE GOT HIM! TELEVISION CLOWN HAS PINNED KRISTOFFER ARROYO!
JR: OH MY GOD! JUDD JUST USED THE TELEVISION CHAMPION AS A WEAPON! He knocked Arroyo out, threw Clown on top of him, and the referee counted three! That's unbelievable!
The timekeeper confirms the fall just before the fifteen-minute limit expires. Judd rolls out of the ring and snatches up his X-Treme Championship, raising it high as the referee signals the result.
Television Clown lies sprawled across Arroyo, completely unaware of what has happened. Clown paramedics rush toward both men. The referee checks Clown, then turns to Arroyo, who remains motionless beneath the champion's body.
Judd stands at ringside, watching the scene unfold.
JC: Television Clown retains the XWF Television Championship! Kristoffer Arroyo had dominated this entire match, refused to finish his opponent, and was seconds away from victory when Judd Hollow arrived and changed everything!
JR: Arroyo got exactly what he deserved for playing with his food for fourteen minutes. He could have won this match a dozen times, but he wanted to keep hurting a defenseless clown. Judd came out here and took advantage of the situation. He put Arroyo down, used TV Clown's body to get the pin, and now he's walking away while both guys are laid out. That's ruthless. That's brilliant. And Arroyo is going to be absolutely furious when he wakes up!
Judd raises the X-Treme Championship one more time before backing up the ramp. In the ring, Television Clown is helped off Arroyo and begins to stir as the referee checks on the fallen vampire.
Arroyo lay motionless on the canvas, blood smeared across his face, while Television Clown and his championship are carried to the back on a stretcher by paramedic clowns!
[/b]
https://youtu.be/w4-7G2jnbew?si=qaZyotcpQCJmfqiR
Voice: “There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. I smiled, — for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. I bade them search — search well. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.
The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: — it continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definitiveness — until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.
No doubt I now grew very pale; — but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased — and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound — much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton.”
The beating of a heart.
Darkness.
And it ends.
JC: We are all set for tonight’s main event to get underway! And boy oh boy do we have something special in store for all you fine folks watching at home. Tell em’ what we’ve got, Joe!
JR: We have a special, never-before-seen kind of Main Event, brought to you courtesy of the ART FOUNDATION! Tonight, we have four wrestlers in the ring, all waiting for their chance to serve the great Korvayne! And all they have to do…..is climb atop the platform above the ring, and touch her hand. The winner? Walks away with a tag-team championship and a really, really hot tag partner!
JC: But it’s easier said than done, Joe! Some of Anarchy’s FINEST wrestlers have gathered for the right to that belt. Roger, EDWARD, Liam Roberts, and Reggie Estrada have all thrown their hats in the ring for this special main event!
JR: It’s weird that no one from Warfare signed up for this match, right?
JC: A bit weird, but you gotta remember Joe: Korvayne is somewhat of a bitch. That could be why nobody from the same brand as her wants in on this!
JR: Truer words have never been said! Now let’s get to the action!
[b]XWF Tag Team Championship OPEN CALL! WELCOME TO ALL WHO RP FOR IT! Korvayne on Olympus match XWF Tag Team Champion Korvayne will sit high above the ring where she belongs above all of you. The first competitor to tag her shall earn a place at her side as XWF Tag Team Champion! |
The bell rings.
Korvayne sits on an elevated platform connected to and built above the ring, watching the action unfold beneath her. Her luscious tush sits on a velvet seat as a tag championship belt sprawls across her shoulder. On a table besides her sits the prize for winning tonight’s main event contest.
Reggie Estrada immediately charges at EDWARD and catches him with a heavy right hand. EDWARD stumbles into the ropes, and Reggie follows with another shot to the jaw. Reggie grabs him by the back of the head and drives him into the turnbuckles, unloading with a series of body shots before pulling him back out and cracking him across the chest with a forearm.
Across the ring, Roger waves enthusiastically at Korvayne, who sits elevated above the ring with the XWF Tag Team Championship displayed beside her. He points up at her, gives an exaggerated thumbs-up, then turns around just in time to eat a Liam Roberts clothesline.
JR: Flirting with Korvayne is a time-honored tradition in the XWF, but there’s a time and a place for it! Roger just learned that the hard way!
JC: I’ve gotta say: I’ve never seen Liam Roberts this motivated before!
JR: Liam just got a huge singles win over Edgecrusher on Anarchy! This might be a brand new Liam Roberts that we are seeing this time around, Jacquinde!
Liam hits another clothesline. Roger staggers backward, arms windmilling, before Liam catches him with a dropkick that sends him sprawling. Liam covers him for absolutely no reason, hooking both legs and shouting for the referee to count. The referee barely gets into position before Roger kicks out at one and a half, then rolls away clutching his chest like he has suffered a career-ending injury.
Liam gets to his feet and pumps his fists. His first singles victory on Anarchy has clearly given him a new sense of confidence. He turns toward the other two competitors and charges in to help Reggie.
JC: Does Liam Roberts think…that he just eliminated Roger?
JR: I’m never quite sure what’s going through that dude’s head, but I gotta say, he does seem excited!
Reggie catches Liam coming and nearly takes his head off with a short-arm clothesline.
Liam hits the canvas hard. Reggie looks down at him, shakes his head, and turns back toward EDWARD. EDWARD catches him with a thumb to the eye, follows with a kick to the gut, and drives Reggie backward with a series of punches. Reggie answers with a brutal forearm that leaves EDWARD leaning against the ropes.
Roger crawls toward the corner, spots the action, and decides to make his move. He charges at both men with his arms spread wide. Reggie and EDWARD each step aside. Roger barrels between them and crashes shoulder-first into the turnbuckles.
JC: Big swing-and-a-miss for Roger there!
JR: That’s the reigning and two-time Anarchy tag-team champion Roger to you, Jacquinde!
JR….right.
Reggie grabs him by the waist and hurls him backward with a belly-to-back suplex. Roger lands hard, bouncing off the canvas and rolling onto his stomach. Reggie gives him a quick stomp between the shoulder blades before turning his attention back to EDWARD.
EDWARD tries to catch Reggie with a spinning back elbow. Reggie ducks underneath and catches him around the waist. He lifts EDWARD off the mat and drops him with a thunderous German suplex. EDWARD folds on impact, and Reggie immediately rolls through, hauling him back to his feet.
A second German suplex sends EDWARD across the ring.
Reggie stands over him, breathing heavily, then turns toward Korvayne and points up at the championship.
JC: Reggie has been around the XWF long enough to know what a moment like this could mean! A place beside Korvayne, the Tag Team Championship, and another opportunity to add something to a career built on surviving the worst this company can throw at him!
Reggie turns back to EDWARD and reaches down to pull him up.
But EDWARD suddenly explodes with a headbutt.
Reggie staggers. EDWARD grabs him by the wrist and whips him toward the ropes, then catches him coming back with a high knee to the chest. Reggie hits the canvas. EDWARD drops down and starts throwing punches, each one landing with enough force to make Reggie cover up.
Liam returns to the action and grabs EDWARD from behind. He tries to pull him away from Reggie, but EDWARD drives an elbow into his face. Liam stumbles backward, and EDWARD follows him with a boot to the stomach. He hooks Liam around the head and plants him with a DDT.
Liam rolls onto his back, dazed and confused.
EDWARD gets up, sees Roger trying to sneak past him, and catches the goofy competitor by the collar. Roger raises both hands and offers an apologetic grin. EDWARD responds with a forearm to the face, then whips Roger across the ring and catches him with a powerslam!
Roger lands hard!
EDWARD sits up as Roger rolls onto his side and gives the referee a little wave. EDWARD grabs him by the head and drags him upright, looking ready to finish the job. Roger suddenly slips free, ducks beneath EDWARD's arm, and races toward the elevated platform where Korvayne sits!
JR: Roger just said screw fighting, he’s ready to claim his spot next to Korvayne! You have to respect the wit and ring savvy of the Anarchy tag-team vet!
JC: Roger? Wit and savvy? Are we…are we talking about the same Roger?
JR: That’s Anarchy tag-team LEGEND Roger to you, Jacquinde!
Roger reaches up toward Korvayne.
Korvayne watches him approach with an expression of complete indifference.
Roger stretches as far as he can, fingertips reaching toward her. He is inches away from making contact when EDWARD grabs him by the back of his tights and yanks him down.
Roger lands flat on his back.
EDWARD kicks him in the ribs, then pulls him upright and sends him crashing into the corner. He unloads with a series of heavy punches, leaving Roger slumped against the turnbuckles. EDWARD backs away, charges, and crushes him with a running corner clothesline.
Roger drops to the mat.
EDWARD turns around and sees Liam struggling to his feet. Liam throws a desperate punch. EDWARD blocks it, answers with a forearm, and sends Liam stumbling backward. Liam tries another strike. EDWARD catches him with a boot to the midsection and drives him down with a vicious powerbomb.
Liam hits hard enough to roll onto his side and clutch his back.
EDWARD stands over both men, then looks toward Reggie.
Reggie is already getting up.
JC: Only EDWARD and Reggie Estrada are left standing! Whichever one of them can get to the top of the platform and tag Korvayne will be our new XWF Tag-Team Champion!
JR: EDWARD and Reggie Estrada are two former champions in their own right, and now, each of them looks to add another belt to their collection! But who will prevail?!
Estrada pulls himself upright using the ropes, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and steps toward EDWARD. The two men stare at one another across the ring. There is no more room for distractions. Liam and Roger are scattered around the canvas, battered and struggling to recover. Korvayne remains seated high above them, waiting for someone to prove worthy of reaching her.
Reggie throws the first punch.
EDWARD answers with one of his own.
The two trade shots in the center of the ring. Reggie lands a right hand that snaps EDWARD's head sideways. EDWARD responds with a forearm across the jaw. Reggie fires back with another punch, then a short headbutt that sends EDWARD staggering.
Reggie grabs him and drives him into the corner. He pounds EDWARD's ribs, catches him with a knee to the stomach, and pulls him out by the arm. A short-arm lariat takes EDWARD off his feet.
Reggie follows him down and begins hammering him with ground-and-pound strikes. EDWARD covers up, trying to create space, but Reggie keeps coming. He grabs EDWARD by the wrist and drags him back to his feet, then launches him across the ring with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex.
EDWARD lands near the ropes.
JR: Reggie Estrada has taken the upper-hand here! The former X-treme Champion and legendary Thug is about to steal another championship belt!
Reggie charges.
But EDWARD drops low, pulls the top rope down, and sends Reggie spilling over the ropes to the floor!
The crowd erupts as Reggie crashes onto the ringside mats.
EDWARD drops to one knee, sucking air into his lungs. He looks toward Korvayne, then turns back to the ring. He knows he cannot afford to let Reggie recover.
Liam is moving again. He crawls toward the ropes and begins pulling himself up. EDWARD catches him before he can stand, dragging him away from the ropes and delivering a sharp knee to the stomach. He hooks Liam's head and drives him down with another DDT!
Liam lies motionless for several seconds.
EDWARD grabs him by the wrist and drags him toward the corner beneath Korvayne's platform. He looks up at her, then back down at Liam, and delivers a final boot to the ribs before leaving him behind.
Roger has found his way to the opposite corner. He uses the ropes to pull himself upright, shakes his head rapidly, and spots EDWARD approaching. Roger raises his hands, trying to negotiate a truce.
EDWARD walks straight through the gesture and hits him with a heavy right hand.
Roger stumbles into the corner. EDWARD follows with a knee to the stomach, grabs him around the waist, and hoists him onto his shoulders. Roger flails his arms and legs, desperately trying to escape. EDWARD adjusts his grip and drives him down with a devastating sit-out powerbomb.
Roger bounces off the canvas and rolls onto his side.
EDWARD rises slowly. His eyes move toward Korvayne.
He starts toward the platform.
JC: EDWARD just cleared out all the competition! Everyone in the ring is down! This is his chance to win Korvayne’s hand!
JR: But wait- REGGIE’S GETTING UP!
Reggie slides back into the ring.
EDWARD turns just as Reggie barrels into him with a shoulder tackle. Both men crash to the mat. Reggie gets to his knees first and starts swinging. EDWARD fights back, and the two trade punches from their knees before Reggie catches EDWARD with a brutal elbow to the temple.
Reggie pulls EDWARD up and drives him into the ropes. He whips him across the ring and catches him with a spinebuster that shakes the canvas.
Reggie stays on top of him, hammering him with punches. EDWARD tries to roll away. Reggie grabs his ankle and drags him back into the center of the ring.
He hauls EDWARD upright.
EDWARD suddenly catches Reggie with a knee to the stomach, then another. He grabs Reggie by the head and snaps him down with a DDT. Both men lie on the mat, exhausted, their chests heaving.
JC: This is still anyone’s match!
JR: Nobody wants to quit, not when there’s ½ of championship gold on the line!
The crowd begins to rise as the two Anarchy veterans slowly struggle back to their feet in Warfare’s main event.
Reggie swings first. EDWARD ducks and drives a forearm into his back. Reggie turns and catches him with a headbutt. EDWARD stumbles into the ropes. Reggie follows with a running clothesline that sends both men spilling through the ropes and crashing to the floor.
They land hard at ringside.
Reggie is first to his feet. He grabs EDWARD and smashes his face against the edge of the apron. EDWARD drops to one knee. Reggie follows with a knee to the chest, then rolls him back into the ring.
Reggie climbs onto the apron and starts to enter.
EDWARD scrambles across the canvas and grabs Reggie's boot. Reggie kicks him away, but EDWARD catches the leg again and yanks hard. Reggie loses his balance and falls awkwardly onto the middle rope, his throat and chest slamming across it.
EDWARD gets to his feet and hammers Reggie with a forearm. He grabs him by the head and pulls him back into the ring.
Reggie throws a wild punch. EDWARD ducks beneath it, catches him around the waist, and lifts him high.
A thunderous powerbomb drives Reggie into the canvas.
EDWARD drops beside him, struggling to catch his breath. He looks toward Korvayne. She sits above the ring, watching the two men with calm, regal detachment.
EDWARD knows he has a chance.
He pulls himself up using the ropes and turns toward the corner beneath her platform.
Reggie reaches out and catches his ankle.
EDWARD stumbles. Reggie clings to his leg and drags himself upright, refusing to let the opportunity slip away. He pulls EDWARD back toward the center of the ring and cracks him with a forearm across the jaw.
EDWARD staggers.
Reggie follows with a second forearm, then a third. EDWARD is rocked backward, barely staying upright. Reggie grabs him around the waist and attempts another suplex, but EDWARD blocks the lift by widening his stance.
Reggie tries again.
EDWARD drives an elbow into his back, then clubs him across the shoulders. He catches Reggie with a sudden knee to the face and shoves him away.
Reggie rebounds off the ropes.
EDWARD catches him with a massive lariat.
Reggie hits the canvas hard, and EDWARD drops beside him. For a moment, both men lie still.
JR: He damn near took Reggie’s head off with that clothesline! That’s pure caveman strength right there!
JC: Reggie Estrada just got knocked into next week! I’m not sure he’s getting up after that one!
EDWARD rolls onto his stomach and begins crawling toward the corner. Reggie rolls onto his back, blinking up at the lights.
Liam has managed to reach the ropes. He pulls himself upright, takes one unsteady step toward the corner, and starts to move toward Korvayne.
EDWARD spots him.
He lunges across the ring and catches Liam by the ankle before he can get any closer. Liam falls forward, grabbing the bottom rope. EDWARD drags him backward, hauls him up, and plants him with a final brutal slam.
Liam collapses.
JR: EDWARD makes another one bite the dust!
EDWARD turns toward Roger, who is barely moving near the opposite turnbuckles. Roger makes one last desperate attempt to crawl toward the platform. EDWARD intercepts him with a boot to the stomach and throws him aside.
The path is finally clear.
EDWARD staggers toward Korvayne's platform.
JR: EDWARD has this match won! He’s the last one standing! He’s going to get to touch Korvayne’s hand! He’s going to become a tag-team champion!
JC: Not so fast, Joe- it looks like he still has company!
Reggie suddenly surges from behind and grabs him around the waist.
The crowd roars.
JR: It’s Reggie Estrada again! He just won’t quit!
JC: Thugs never quit, Joe!
Reggie pulls EDWARD away from the platform and tries to lift him for one last suplex. EDWARD fights the grip, throwing elbows backward into Reggie's face. Reggie refuses to release him. He tightens his arms around EDWARD's waist and begins lifting.
EDWARD slips free at the last possible second, lands behind Reggie, and spins him around.
Reggie swings.
EDWARD ducks.
He drives a crushing forearm into Reggie's jaw, then grabs him around the head and plants him with a sudden, devastating DDT!
Reggie hits the canvas and rolls onto his back.
EDWARD drops to one knee, gasping. He looks at Reggie, then at Korvayne, then forces himself upright.
Reggie tries to rise one more time. He reaches for the ropes, gets one knee beneath him, and begins pushing himself up.
EDWARD turns back and catches him with one final strike that sends Reggie sprawling across the canvas.
JR: Estrada finally goes down!
JC: EDWARD needs to make a sprint for Korvayne right here! This match is just too chaotic! There’s too many wrestlers in that ring for anyone to get a better chance than this!
EDWARD stumbles toward the platform beneath Korvayne's elevated seat atop the ring. He reaches up, stretches his arm as high as he can, and catches her hand.
JC: EDWARD TAGS KORVAYNE!
The bell rings!
| Winner and NEW XWF Tag-Team Champion- EDWARD |
EDWARD drops to his knees, exhausted. Reggie lies several feet away, barely conscious. Liam is sprawled near the ropes, and Roger has ended up flat on his back in the opposite corner, one arm raised weakly toward the ceiling.
Korvayne rises from her seat above the ring, the XWF Tag Team Championship held high. She looks down at EDWARD, who remains kneeling beneath her atop the platform, breathing heavily after surviving the fight of his life. Almost like a cat, she simply knocks the spare belt off its table and onto EDWARD’s lap.
JR: EDWARD has been away from the XWF for a long time! He returned looking for another chance, another championship, and a place beside Korvayne on Olympus. He got exactly what he came for!
JC: EDWARD WINS! Korvayne retains the XWF Tag Team Championship, and EDWARD becomes her new championship partner. What an incredible story!
[/b]
https://youtu.be/fHRLoVmPeLU?si=Z7dhD63-BPC6In2p
Darkness. A flicker. An owl sits upon a branch.
Darkness. Once more.
Voice: “I talked more quickly — more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men — but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed — I raved — I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder — louder — louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! — no, no! They heard! — they suspected! — they knew! — they were making a mockery of my horror! — this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! — and now — again! — hark! louder! louder! louder! louder! —”
The screen flickers. Two tattooed hands on an open book. A Tarot tucked in as a bookmark: The World.
Voice: “Villains!” I shrieked, “dissemble no more! I admit the deed! — tear up the planks!”
A letter sitting on the reading table beside the book. A focus on its contents: “You have been selected to be Captain for XWF’s upcoming War Games”.
Voice: “Here, here! —”
A grin. And a familiar face revealed.
Jonathan Bacchus: “It is the beating of his hideous heart.”
| SPECIAL THANKS TO OUR MATCHWRITERS PETER PRINCIPAL ‘BIG’ DICK LICHTER AND TO OUR WONDERFUL SEGMENT WRITERS JOHNNY AND BACCHUS AND OF COURSE THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO RPED! SEE YOU NEXT TIME! |