The backstage area buzzed with more chaos than it usually did. Remi Storm made her way through the maze of hallways as crew members hurried past with clipboards tucked under their arms. Others spoke into headsets over the distant roar of the crowd and the vibrations of entrance music. Dressed and ready for her Television Title match, she absentmindedly adjusts the tape around one wrist as she walks. Her thoughts were all over. Between training, travel, and all the possible scenarios for tonight, her mind was racing.
She turned the corner faster than she realized.
One second she was whipping around into a narrow corridor lined with crates, and the next, she almost collided with someone coming in the opposite direction. The near impact was enough to have each one stumbling back a step.
Remi: Whoa…
She blinks at the woman in front of her, flanked by two men.
Korvayne.
A crooked smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
Remi: Well hey. I don’t usually go around almost running people down in the hallway.
Korvayne’s SIMP immediately checked on the greatest among women, always looking for any excuse to touch her. She bitchslapped him out of the way and he retreated behind her.
Ser Lionel Pennyfarthing, the newest member of Kor’s ART Foundation faction, stepped between Korvayne and Remi, puffing his chest out dramatically, gold cloak flapping, while swooping his hand dismissively at Remi.
Ser Lionel Pennyfarthing: MAKE WAY FOR THE WOMAN ABOVE ALL WOMEN, THE ARTIST OF ATROCITIES, THE GREAT KORVAYNE!
Before Remi could react, Korvayne shoved Lionel out of frame and moved closer to the TV title challenger, giving her a once over. Normally a sour expression would accompany Korvayne’s perfect face when in the presence of another woman, especially one as starred as Remi. But her expression was oddly softer.
Korvayne: Normally I would pummel someone for their clumsiness.
Kor wagged a finger, waving off her own notion. Her eyes bore into Remi’s for a long, awkward moment, making Remi shuffle on her feet with building unease.
Korvayne: But…. you…
Korvayne hesitated a beat, expression growing softer. Instead of finishing what she was saying, the greatest among women surprisingly stepped aside, yielding the hallway to Remi with a gestured hand.
For a long moment, nothing happens. Tense, Remi lets her gaze flick from the Simp to Pennyfarthing, before settling back onto Korvayne, studying her expression. Remi was well aware of her reputation, but…She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement, recognizing the gesture for what it was. Most people probably wouldn’t understand the significance of Korvayne stepping aside, but Remi did.
Remi: Thank you.
Simple, but soft and genuine. Remi steps past her, only making it three paces before slowing. Something made her glance back over her shoulder at Korvayne still standing there. She turns fully on her heel to face Korvayne once more.
Remi: Hey Korvayne? Go out there and whip that Bastard’s ass!
Remi grins.
Remi: I’ll be cheering for you.
Her smile widens and warms, free of any caution she might have held moments earlier. Then, with a small salute over her shoulder, she continues down the hallway, leaving Korvayne with an unreadable expression on her face.
JC: Folks, this next match is for the Television TItle and we’re in for an absolute war!
The arena lighting dims to black. Pink and silver lightning streak across the screen.
"She went bad
Made her pretty little world turn black
Miss perfect never had a chance
Threw a middle finger up
She's heading to hell anyway"
Twin pink sparkly spotlights hit the entryway as Remi skips out from behind the curtains. She pauses at the top of the ramp, tossing her hair over her shoulder, scanning the screaming audience before her. With a smile, she scampers down towards the ring as the spotlights follow. Once there, she grabs ahold of a post, swinging around it while blowing a kiss to the camera.
She hops up onto the apron and rolls over the top rope. She crosses to the other side, giving a little shimmy dance as she does. She nimbly leaps onto the turnbuckle, lifting both hands over her head and flashing a cocky grin. The spotlights cut out, the lighting strobing pink and silver before returning to normal as Remi steps down onto the mat.
…
The lights in the arena go deep blue as smoke fills the air. Pink and silver laser lights cut through the smoke and it looks fucking rad.
As Bobby's music blares throughout the arena, slowly walking out onto the entrance ramp is Bobby Bourbon. He looks out at the crowd in the arena, cold and stoic, surveying his surroundings. He stops and raises his fists at 45 degree angles, and continues his deliberate plod towards the ring. He raises both arms outward, accepting fives, slaps, daps, knucks, and touches as he does. He looks on into the ring, feeling the energy of every fan he makes contact with. He stops, and begins stomping in place, with the utmost joy to be in front of the XWF crowd. He stops a camera.
"I'm a bad, bad man, but like my home, the XWF, I have plenty of bad, bad fans!"
Bobby climbs the steps, then climbs the nearest ring post half way and raises his fists at 45 degree angles. The lights go back to normal and the music stops. The fans in attendance all echo their sentiments for the match.
Bobby acknowledges the crowd. They roar. Bobby looks back at his opponent, cocking an eyebrow and smirking. Bobby points at them, and taller or shorter, male or female, whomever the XWF Universe has put in front of him tonight, blows a kiss before cracking his knuckles and rotates his shoulders, loosening them. He then climbs to the top rope, points to the crowd, and launches himself!
THE XWF UNIVERSE RECEIVES BOBBY!
They gently, in unison, catch the superheavyweight, and place him gently ringside.
JC: Folks, there’s no good blood between these two! Bobby considers himself to be the savior of the Television division, ready to lead it to a bright shiny new age of entertainment!
JR: And Remi calls him the bitter old guard who went out of his way to injure Korvayne because he saw firsthand just how easily the fed moved on while he was on the injured list recovering!
JC: These two are mean! They’re competitive! And only one is leaving with Warfare’s top prize!
The red Martian sky glowed through the transparent dome of SpaceX Arena as thousands of fans packed the stands. Below them, the crimson landscape stretched to the horizon, interrupted only by launch towers and distant spacecraft. Hanging above the ring, a digital clock flashed in bright white letters.
The Television Championship sat proudly around Bobby Bourbon's waist.
Jacuinde Castillo: "And here we go! Television Championship on the line with a strict fifteen-minute time limit!"
Joe Rogan: "Imagine explaining this to somebody a hundred years ago. We're on Mars watching a guy named Bobby Bourbon defend a title against a rich high-flying rookie. This is peak civilization."
Bobby Bourbon marched to the center of the ring with a huge grin, Television Title already handed away. He pointed toward the crowd.
Then toward the sky.
Then toward Mars itself.
Then he reached into his singlet.
Jacuinde paused.
Joe paused.
Bobby produced a bright yellow toy telescope.
Joe Rogan: "See? See? This is exactly what I'm talking about."
Bobby looked through the telescope at Remi.
He adjusted it.
Looked again.
Adjusted it once more.
Then dramatically lowered it.
A title card appears under Remi.
Remi Storm
Richus Alzheimerus
JC: How did Bobby get the camera to go through the telescope?
JR: He’s the master of entertainment, Jacuinde! His goal is always to put on a show for these people! And/or Martians!
The crowd laughed.
Remi rolled her eyes.
The playful shimmy of her shoulders earned a cheer of her own before she stepped forward and snatched the telescope away.
The crowd popped.
Remi immediately snapped it over her knee.
The telescope exploded into a shower of cheap plastic.
The smile disappeared from Bobby's face.
Not entirely.
But enough.
JC: "There may be a little more emotion here than usual for Miss Storm."
JR: "Korvayne's her friend. Bobby absolutely mauled him to get that title. I don't think she's here for comedy night."
Bobby nodded.
Fair enough.
The two circled.
Then Bobby suddenly lunged forward.
Remi was ready.
She ducked underneath his grasp, spun behind, and immediately trapped an arm.
Wristlock.
Bobby tried to roll.
Remi followed.
Torque.
Bobby grimaced.
Remi twisted harder.
JC: Remi Storm is looking like all business, Joe!
JR: Mostly business, but a little personal! Remi and Korvayne have been seen backstage on friendly terms! And Remi made it clear in her promo, she took umbrage with Bobby returning and ambushing a new person that, according to Remi, was getting over in a way that pissed Bobby off!
Bobby’s grin vanished completely.
Bobby answered by simply lifting her.
The entire arena erupted.
Remi's eyes widened.
Still attached to the arm, she found herself being carried clean off the mat.
Then Bobby launched her halfway across the ring with a massive Beale Toss.
Remi flipped through the air and crashed onto her back.
13:31
13:30
13:29
JC: What power!
Bobby spread his arms wide, soaking in the reaction.
The fans roared.
Remi sat up immediately.
Angry.
Bobby pointed toward the audience.
Remi charged.
Bobby welcomed it.
They collided in the center.
Remi firing sharp forearms.
Bobby answering with heavy body shots.
Forearm.
Body shot.
Forearm.
Body shot.
The pace accelerated.
The crowd started counting along.
Remi suddenly switched levels.
Single leg.
Bobby hopped.
Remi transitioned.
Arm control.
Snap.
She yanked him forward and drilled him face-first with a Hammerlock DDT.
The ring shook.
Bobby bounced onto his back.
For the first time all match, the champion looked stunned.
Remi kipped up.
The crowd exploded.
Jacuinde Castillo: Beautiful counter wrestling from Storm!
Joe Rogan: That's what makes her dangerous. Everybody sees the flash and the speed, but she's sneaky technical.
Remi didn't waste a second.
She sprinted toward the ropes.
Bounced.
Springboard.
Dropkick.
Perfect impact.
Bobby stumbled backward into a corner.
Remi charges…
BUT BOBBY SPRINGS OUT AND HITS REMI WITH A CLOTHESLINE FROM HELL!
Remi does a full double flip before landing on her back!
JC: Holy SHIT! That was amazing!
JR: Like if an olympic gymnastics routine was also ASSAULT!
12:21
12:20
12:19
Bobby popped back to his feet almost immediately.
JC: Bobby maybe would be wiser to catch his breath while his opponent is done!
JR: The crowd wants Bobby up, Jacuinde! And that means Bobby is UP!
Bourbon threw both arms out and basked in the reaction.
The fans roared.
Bobby pointed at a camera.
Then another.
Then another.
Every time he pointed, a different graphic appeared on the arena screens.
APPLAUSE
LOUDER APPLAUSE
THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE
JC: Joe, what do you think of Bobby’s strategy in the early going.
JR: I love it. The man is literally farming crowd reactions.
JC: That doesn’t feel like a strategy.
JR: It's Bobby Bourbon. It absolutely is.
Remi meanwhile is shaking off cobwebs after getting turned inside out by the clothesline.
JC: Someone ask Remi what planet she’s on!
JR: If she says ‘Earth’, she’s concussed! If she says ‘Mars’... hell, she might still be concussed!
She pulled herself up using the ropes.
Bobby spread his arms.
Remi sneers.
The arena got louder.
JC: Oh, she's mad.
JR: Good. Wrestling should have consequences.
Bobby charged.
Remi ducked.
Bobby hit the ropes.
Came back.
Remi dropped.
Drop toe hold.
Bobby ate canvas.
Before he could recover—
STOMP.
Directly to the back of the shoulder.
Bobby winced.
Remi grabbed the same arm she'd targeted earlier.
Yanked it backward.
And drove her knee directly into the shoulder joint.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
Three times.
The crowd reacted differently now.
The cheering becoming a little more uncomfortable.
A little more vicious.
JC: Storm has completely changed her focus.
JR: She's hunting that arm. Smart move. Bobby's dangerous when he can throw people around.
Remi trapped the arm beneath her leg.
Then wrenched backward.
Single Arm Stretch.
Bobby's face tightened.
Bobby powered upward.
One knee.
Two knees.
Still trapped.
Remi cranked harder.
Bobby suddenly reached into his tights.
The crowd erupted.
JC: Not again.
JR: Oh we're absolutely doing this again.
Bobby produced...
An ACME-brand emergency backup arm.
The fake rubber limb unfolded with a loud BOING.
The crowd lost their minds.
JC: …Wait, so Remi had a fake arm on Bobby?
JR: Wait your wait, does Bobby have two arms?
Remi stared.
Bobby stared… noticeably one-armedly
The referee stared.
Bobby shrugged…
Before wriggling his real arm up from his singlet.
WHAM! Remi immediately kicked him in the face.
JR: There it is.
JC: Frankly, that's on Bobby.
The kick rocked the champion.
10:19
10:18
10:17
Remi exploded.
Standing knee strike.
Monkey flip.
Bobby crashed into the corner.
Remi sprinted.
Step-up knee.
Bobby's head snapped back.
Remi climbed to the second rope.
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
The crowd counted along.
One!
Two!
Three!
Four!
Five!
Six!
Seven!
Eight!
Nine!
Ten—
NO!
Bobby suddenly walked forward out of the corner carrying Remi on his shoulders.
The crowd exploded.
Remi's eyes widened.
Bobby grinned.
Then began marching around the ring with her still trapped up there.
Like a parade float.
Waving at the audience.
JR: This idiot.
JC: He's showing off again!
JR: He can't help himself!
Remi hammered elbows into his skull.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Bobby stumbled.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Finally his grip loosened.
Remi slipped behind him.
Hammerlock.
Immediate transition.
The crowd came alive.
They knew this one.
HAMMERLOCK DDT—
NO!
Bobby blocked it!
Both competitors frozen for a split second.
Fighting for leverage.
Remi trying to spike him.
Bobby refusing to budge.
Then Bobby suddenly pointed past her.
Remi instinctively looked.
There was absolutely nothing there.
The oldest trick in history.
Bobby capitalized immediately.
DOUBLE UNDERHOOK.
LIFT.
SUPL-
…No!
Remi kicked free before he could complete it.
Landed on her feet.
Pump kick.
Bobby staggered.
Backflip kick.
Bobby staggered again.
The champion was reeling.
Remi hit the ropes.
Flying.
Springboard—
BOOM!
Bobby nearly decapitated her with another clothesline.
But this time Remi saw it coming.
She bent backward underneath it.
Barely.
Both competitors spun around simultaneously.
Face to face.
Neither backing down.
Neither blinking.
The crowd rose to its feet.
8:03
8:02
8:01
JC: We’re already almost halfway through the time limit!
JR: And now we're getting to the good stuff.
For a moment neither competitor moved.
The crowd buzzed.
Bobby grinned.
Remi glared.
Then they both swung, trading blows with all they’ve got!
FOREARM FROM BOURBON!
FOREARM FROM STORM!
FOREARM FROM BOURBON!
FOREARM FROM STORM!
The strikes echoed throughout SpaceX Arena.
Neither giving ground.
Neither giving an inch.
Bobby fired a body shot.
Remi answered with a knee.
Bobby staggered.
Remi hit the ropes.
SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK—
NO!
Bobby caught her.
The audience erupted.
Remi's eyes widened.
Bobby had her completely horizontal across his chest.
JC: Oh no...
JR: That's not where a high flyer wants to be!
Bobby looked out at the crowd.
Looked at Remi.
Looked back at the crowd.
Then shrugged.
And started bench pressing her.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
The fans counted along.
Five!
Six!
Seven!
JC: He's showing off AGAIN!
JR: Look, if I could bench press another human being in a title match I'd do it too!
Remi finally had enough.
She dropped an elbow directly onto the injured shoulder.
Bobby winced.
Another elbow.
Another.
Another.
Finally his grip failed.
Remi slipped free.
Landed behind him.
ROPE FLIP ARM DRAG!
Bobby went flying.
The crowd popped.
Remi maintained wrist control.
Immediately rolling through.
Arm bar using the ropes.
The top strand digging across Bobby's shoulder and elbow.
The referee began counting.
One!
Two!
Three!
Four!
Remi held it until the last possible second.
Then released.
Bobby clutched the arm.
Remi didn't look satisfied.
She looked angry.
JC: This isn't about points anymore.
JR: Nope. She's trying to hurt him.
Remi grabbed Bobby by the wrist.
Yanked him up.
Standing Rising Knee Strike.
CRACK.
Bobby's head snapped backward.
Cover!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
The crowd roared.
6:34
6:33
6:32
Bobby rolled away immediately.
Not because he was hurt.
Because he was thinking.
A dangerous development.
Remi stalked forward.
Bobby backed away.
Remi followed.
Bobby backed into a corner.
Remi charged.
Bobby suddenly pointed upward.
The crowd collectively looked.
So did Jacuinde.
So did Joe.
So did half the arena.
A massive cartoon anvil appeared on the video screen directly above the ring.
JC: …Is that… That’s not an anvil. That’s a drawing of an anvil. Is that real?
JR: Jacuinde, I’m on Mars. I’ve seen a man lose his soul via grits consumption. I don’t really know if I can say what’s ‘real’ anymore.
Remi kept charging.
Bobby pulls a tring!
The cartoon anvil falls!
…And clangs loudly!
Against the turnbuckle behind Bobby!
JC: Apparently, Bobby miscalculated his cartoon physics!
…B
JR: Smart girl.
…Bobby scratches his head, doing mental math to figure out where he miscalcula-
WHAM! Remi blasted him with a running forearm.
Bobby stumbled out of the corner.
Right into a Butterfly Backbreaker.
The ring shook.
Remi covers!
JC: This could be it! New Television Champion!
ONE!
TWO!
THR—
KICKOUT!
The champion survived again.
JC: Storm nearly had him!
JR: It’s not a game of almost though! It’s a game of doing it! And doing it within fifteen minutes!
5:05
5:04
5:03
Remi sat up immediately.
No frustration.
No panic.
Just calculation.
She grabbed the arm again.
Bobby groaned.
Remi dragged him toward the corner.
The crowd began buzzing.
They knew what that meant.
Remi climbed.
Second rope.
Third rope.
Still holding the arm.
JC: This is dangerous!
JR: On Mars? Everything is dangerous!
Remi launched herself.
DIVING DOUBLE FOOT STOMP—
NOBODY HOME!
The ring exploded beneath her boots.
Remi collapsed to one knee.
Bobby had rolled away at the last second!
The crowd gasped.
Both competitors hurt.
Both competitors scrambling, Remi pulling herself up by the ropes in the corner…
But Bobby reached a vertical base first! He’s running!
Corner Avalanche Splash!
WHAM!
Remi was crushed against the turnbuckles.
The force bounced her halfway across the ring.
Bobby smelled momentum.
The audience came alive.
Bobby pointed toward the ropes.
Then pointed toward Remi.
Then pointed toward himself.
JC: What is he doing?
JR: Advertising. He's advertising.
Bobby hit the ropes.
The crowd rising.
Hit the opposite ropes.
Louder.
Hit them again.
Even louder.
Finally he launched himself.
SENTON SPLASH!
Direct hit!
Cover!
ONE!
TWO!
THR—
NO!
JC: How did Remi survive that?!?
The challenger was still alive.
3:13
3:12
3:11
Both competitors sit up… looking like they’ve been running sprints all day…
JC: We have crossed into dangerous territory now.
JR: This is where people stop wrestling and start gambling.
Bobby gets to his feet first first.
He grabs Remi by the wrist.
Yanks her up.
SHORT-ARM CLOTHESLINE—
NO!
Remi ducks!
Spins behind!
Hammerlock!
HAMMERLOCK DDT—
NO!
Bobby cartwheels through it!
The crowd erupts!
Remi can't believe it.
Bobby points at his head.
Big brain.
Huge smile.
Remi immediately slaps him across the face.
SMACK!
The smile disappears.
The crowd howls.
JR: Honestly? Fair.
JC: That may be the most deserved slap in professional wrestling history.
Bobby swings wildly.
Remi ducks.
Standing knee strike!
Bobby stumbles.
Pump kick!
Bobby stumbles again.
Backflip kick!
Bobby falls into the ropes.
Remi sees her opening.
She sprints.
Full speed.
SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK—
BOOM!
Direct hit!
Bobby spills through the ropes and crashes onto the apron.
The challenger wastes no time.
Apron.
Running start.
APRON SHOOTING STAR PRESS—
NOBODY HOME!
The entire arena gasps.
Bobby moved.
Remi crashes chest-first against the edge of the ring.
JC: Oh God! That’s the hardest part of the ring!
JR: The ring wins every fight.
Remi crumples onto the Martian-regulation crash pads surrounding ringside.
Bobby rolls off the apron.
Bobby grabs Remi.
Throws her inside.
Slides in behind her.
Cover!
ONE!
TWO!
THR—
NO!
Remi survives.
2:01
2:00
1:59
Bobby immediately hooks both arms.
The crowd rises.
JC: Double underhook!
JR: Bobby-Bomb! Bobby-Bomb!
Bobby lifts.
The challenger kicks.
Thrashes.
Twists.
Anything to survive.
Finally she slips free.
Lands behind him.
Headscissors takedown!
Transition!
Single-arm DDT!
SPIKE!
The crowd explodes.
Remi covers!
ONE!
TWO!
THR—
KICKOUT!
Bobby survives.
JC: Nobody can put the other away!
JR: Television Championship, baby! Fifteen minutes of panic attacks!
JC: Remi’s gotta be asking herself! What can she do to finish this big mean bastard off!
JR: And can she do it in the next…
1:24
1:23
1:22
JR: Eighty-two seconds?!?
Remi looks at the clock.
She grits her teeth, turning to her opponent…
She grabs the arm.
The same arm.
The arm she's been attacking all match.
Wristlock.
Torque.
Bobby winces.
Remi steps through.
STEP-UP ROLLING CROSS ARMBAR!
Perfectly applied!
The crowd erupts.
Bobby screams.
Remi cranks backward.
Hard.
The arm bending in horrible directions.
JC: She has it!
JR: She has it DEEP!
Bobby flails.
Kicks.
Rolls.
Tries to stack.
Nothing works.
The clock keeps moving.
The crowd begins counting the seconds.
Every tick louder than the last.
Finally Bobby reaches into his tights.
The arena loses its mind.
JC: NO.
JR: YES.
Another ACME product.
A tiny bottle.
Label:
INSTANT ROPE REACHER
Bobby squeezes it.
A boxing glove shoots out.
BOING!
The glove bounces off the ropes.
Misses.
Bounces off a turnbuckle.
Misses again.
Hits the referee in the backside.
The crowd dies laughing.
Remi SMACKS the glove out of Bobby’s hand!
JC: There we go! We finally might get some seri-
Bobby cranes his foot backwards… and dangles his ankle across the rope!
JC: Oh come on!
0:59
0:58
0:57
JC: Under one minute!
JR: Forget strategy! Forget pacing! They're both out of time!
Remi immediately drags Bobby up.
No hesitation.
No caution.
No patience.
Hammerlock.
She wants the DDT.
Bobby blocks.
Remi tries again.
Blocked.
Again.
Blocked.
Again.
Blocked.
The crowd roaring with every attempt.
Finally Bobby spins through.
DOUBLE UNDERHOOK!
Bobby-Bomb position!
Now it's Remi panicking.
Kicking.
Squirming.
Twisting.
The entire arena on its feet.
0:48
0:47
0:46
Bobby lifts Remi! LAST RIDE style…
BOBBY BO-
…
No! Remi slips off the side!
Bobby’s hand surge forward! Storm and Bobby jockey for control desperately!
0:19
0:18
0:17
Bobby brings his trunk down, looking for an armdrag!
But Remi forces him off the mat! LIFTING HIS FEET OFF THE GROUND!
JC: Oh my GOD! Remi just hoisted 291 pounds of Bourbon!
Aaaaaand…
STORMCHASER!
(Utsuri Goshi into a Swinging Side Slam!)
The crowd leaps to their feet!
JC: Holy SHIT! What a move!
Storm leans back exhaustedly as the clock ticks down…
Storm crawls ontop of a prone Bourbon…
ONE!
TWO!
THE CLOCK BUZZES!
…
…..
RIGHT AFTER THE THREE!
WINNER AND NEEEEEEEEEEEEEW XWF TELEVISION CHAMPION: REMI STORM
JC: WOW! What a match! What a first championship victory for Remi Storm!
JR: Bobby Bourbon promises to bring entertainment back to the Television Title division and this match was wall-to-wall entertainment!
JC: But what Remi brought was FOCUS! DETERMINATION! And the will to push herself and win! And today she leaves with the gold!
TODD: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the SpaceX Arena on the surface of Mars! Tonight, the Revolution Championship is on the line!
BAMA: I still can't believe they flew us to another PLANET, Todd! My allergies ain't adapted to Mars yet!
A packed arena of humans, Martians, and whoever else had managed to secure tickets to the most absurd wrestling event in history.
…
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!
TODD: Solomon Kline won a fatal-four-way match match to become number one contender to the Revolution championship!
BAMA: And he beat three game competitors! Reggie Estrada, Mister Oz… and even the other challenger in the match!
TODD: Kline noted it’s been a rocky road back in his XWF Journey! Ever since BoB injured him and kicked him out of their ranks, it’s been an uphill battle! But he took the first step back on the road to victory when he won that #1 contender’s match!
BAMA: There’s a difference between winning a shot at the belt and winning the belt though, Toddrick! And Kline knows that better than most, he’s a former X-Treme champion AND has won a belt in UGWC! But, can he get the job done tonight and add one more piece of hardware to his trophy case?
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.
…
S&M By Rhianna will play throughout the arena as the crowd cheers while Summer walks down the aisle. Summer gets to the ring side and walks up the ring stairs. Summer looks out at the crowd and raises her arms out to the crowd as the crowd cheers louder.
TODD: Betsy Granger has been on the hunt for her first piece of XWF championship gold for a long, long while now! She’s got the tools, she’s got the talent!
BAMA: And she’s willing to, and I quote, “be the bitch” if it means sinking her teeth into a title belt, Toddy baby!
TODD: Anybody who knows Summer knows she’s got a mean streak she can tap into! She’s been playing nice and friendly for a while, but we got a taste of how far she’s willing to go if it means starting the Summer Page Revolution! But will it be enough in a field with Solomon Kline AND Betsy Granger!?!
Summer turns her attention to inside the ring where she motions to the referee to open the bottom and middle ropes so they can enter. Summer walks over to the closest ring corner and climbs up to the middle turnbuckle.
…
“Now, who’s ready to be baptized into a new era of entertainment?!”
The lights go out in the arena as the voice calls out its query. A moment later, bright, twinkling lights like stars scatter across the building.
“Rome wasn’t built in a day
You gotta climb a little higher,
To the top of the display,
Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
The starlight intensifies as a figure rises from beneath the platform, her back to the crowd, head down. The song continues to echo throughout the arena, electric and intense. Her blonde hair is tied into a tight shark-braid that swings back and forth as she bounces from foot to foot.
“If you want it, just take it,
The world's yours, don’t waste it,
Go make the stars align, to shine-”
The rising platform levels to the arena floor in unison with the beat drop to the song.
“BRIGHTER!”
As the word echoes through the arena, an explosion of sparkling pyrotechnics go off as Betsy Granger throws out her arms, revealing a blue chiffon robe lit with bright stars.
“Brighter than the heavens in the skies above,
(oooh oooh)
You’ll be,
BRIGHTER!"
Twirling gracefully to face the crowd, she points skyward as the lights in the arena flood back on. Betsy bounces twice before half-running, half-skipping down the ramp towards the ring.
"Going supernova, all the eyes look up
(at you, at you)
BRIGHTER!”
The song switches to an instrumental break as she does one complete circuit around the ring. Throwing off her cape on the announcer's table, she dashes towards the ring and jumps onto the apron in a one clean move. Using her momentum, she bounces clean over the top rope and spins on her toes to the center of the ring, arms out wide. As she comes to a stop, the music swells, and the crowd joins in like a devoted choir, just the same as the song itself.
“BRIIIIIIIIIGHTEEEEERRRRRRR”
Betsy grins widely and bounces from foot to foot, ready for the fight.
TODD: Betsy Granger defends against two challengers with very different motivations! Summer Page has spent years chasing her first XWF championship, while Solomon Kline is looking to prove he belongs back in the title picture after everything he's endured!
BAMA: And meanwhile Betsy's over there negotiating with Martians and talking about destiny. Sounds like champion behavior to me!
The referee raises the Revolution Championship high overhead.
The moment the bell rings, all three immediately explode into motion!
Summer Page launches herself at Betsy.
Solomon Kline launches himself… also at Betsy!
TODD: Both challengers know exactly who’s belt they want to take! And that they ain’t letting the other challenger get the first crack!
BAMA: Betsy ain’t backing down even an inch! She’s ready for it!
Indeed, Betsy Granger grins as both challengers come barreling toward her.
The champion ducks beneath Summer's Chick Kick attempt—
—and immediately spins into a spinning wristlock on Summer!
At the exact same moment Solomon crashes into both women with a running clothesline!
All three hit the mat.
TODD: They are wasting absolutely no time!
BAMA: That's because nobody wants to be the fool standing around watching somebody else win a title!
Summer rolls through first.
Betsy kips up.
Solomon powers upright.
The three collide again.
Summer fires a forearm.
Betsy answers with a karate-style middle kick.
Solomon answers both with a double clothesline attempt—
—but both women duck!
The clothesline sails harmlessly overhead.
Summer immediately jumps onto Solomon's back!
Sleeper!
The crowd erupts.
TODD: In Your Dreams! Summer's sleeper hold!
But Solomon immediately backs her into the corner.
Hard.
Summer's grip loosens.
Hard again.
Summer drops to her feet—
Only for Betsy to appear from nowhere and nail both competitors with a dropkick, one leg for each challenger!
The impact sends Summer sprawling through the ropes while Solomon crashes backward into the turnbuckles.
Betsy starfish kip-ups off the mat, as Solomon rebounds off the turnbuckle, straight into Granger’s….
Running overhead kick!
The sole of her boot smashes into Solomon's jaw.
The challenger stumbles forward—
RIGHT INTO—
GALACTIC ADVANTAGE!
Snapmare Driver!
The arena explodes.
TODD: GALACTIC ADVANTAGE!
BAMA: Cover her! Cover him! Cover SOMEBODY!
Betsy dives across Solomon.
ONE!
TW—
Summer breaks it up with a diving elbow to the back.
TODD: Wow, Betsy tried to check-out of this title defense in record time!
BAMA: It makes sense, Toddrick! It’s important to remember, she’s got a whole other match tonight! And that one has a 24/7 briefcase on-the-line! She’s gotta save every bit of energy she can for a golden ticket to the Universal Title
Betsy’s face clenches in pain, favoring her back after Summer dropped an elbow on her spine..
But, the challenger doesn't stop there.
She grabs Betsy by the hair.
Yanks her upright.
SNAP DDT!
The champion spikes face-first into the canvas.
Summer floats into a cover.
ONE!
TWO—
Solomon springs off the mat and shatters the pin with a forearm!
TODD: If anyone was hoping to steal this one, it’s looking like it might not happen!
BAMA: Everyone’s on their A-game from the starting gun, Toddy baby! But how long can they all keep this up?
Solomon drags Summer upright.
SNAP GERMAN SUPLEX!
Summer flies across the ring.
The crowd roars.
Betsy tries to rise… Kline spins and charges her!
SPEAR!
NO!
Betsy leapfrogs him!
Solomon crashes chest-first into the turnbuckles.
The crowd gasps.
Betsy immediately sprints.
Tiger feint kick!
Her boot catches Solomon across the side of the head as he turns around… toppling onto the middle rope!
Betsy goes to drive a knee into the back of his throat…
But Summer side-steps, surprising Betsy with a...
SUPERKICK!
TOTAL KNOCKOUT!
Betsy gets blasted beneath the jaw.
The champion collapses.
TODD: WHAT A SHOT!
BAMA: Summer kicked Betsy so hard, her skull might have briefly travelled at lightspeed!
Solomon’s still loopy by the ropes! Summer dives for the cover!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NO! Betsy kicks out.
Summer slaps the mat in frustration.
TODD: You can feel it whenever Summer has a championship opportunity like this! How bad she wants it! How ready she is to be able to call herself an XWF champion!
BAMA: She’s dominated throughout her whole Anarchy tenure, Toddrick! It’s overdue! But, she’s gotta get the three-count to get that monkey off her back and shut up her critics!{/lbue]
Summer grabs Betsy immediately, not giving her a second to breathe.
Meanwhile Solomon is already pulling himself up in the corner, eyes locked on both women.
Summer drags Betsy up by the wrist—
But Solomon suddenly barrels between them.
DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE!
Both women get turned inside out.
[blue]TODD: Solomon Kline just ran through both challengers like a freight train!
BAMA: Choo-fucking choo, Toddrick!
Kline doesn't waste a second.
Betsy starts to rise, and Kline scoops her off her feet with a…
BLUE THUNDER BOMB!
The champion is launched into the canvas.
Before Solomon can even think about a cover, Summer is already charging him.
High knee!
NO!
He catches her.
Spins.
RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX!
Summer flies halfway across the ring.
The crowd erupts.
TODD: Solomon is on fire right now!
BAMA: This is that "Big Match Sol" stuff he was talking about! We saw it when he came literally inches away from taking the Universal Title off Kieran King! No one appreciates a big match environment more than Solomon Kline!
Betsy tries to get back into the fight.
Kline immediately cuts her off.
Forearm.
Forearm!
FOREARM!
The champion staggers backward.
He grabs her.
SU—
NO!
Betsy lands behind him.
Rolling Koppu kick!
The heel catches Solomon flush across the temple.
The challenger stumbles.
Summer appears.
CODE RED!
NO!
Solomon plants his feet!
Summer hangs upside down for a split second before being violently yanked back to her feet.
POWERBOMB!
Summer bounces off the canvas.
The crowd roars again.
TODD: Kline is ROLLING!
Betsy is caught off-guard, on a knee, catching a breath after catching Kline with that kick…
But Solomon explodes forward.
Running clothesline to Betsy!
He rebounds off the ropes.
Running dropkick to Summer!
Back to his feet.
Betsy rises.
SPEAR!
The champion folds in half.
Summer gets up.
CHOKESLAM!
The challenger crashes into the mat.
TODD: Solomon is everywhere!
BAMA: This man is wrestling like he's trying to prove something!
TODD: Maybe he is! For the first time all match, Solomon has complete control.
The crowd inside SpaceX Arena rises to its feet.
He grabs Betsy.
Drags her up.
Turns—
ASHES TO ASHES!
NO!
Betsy ducks underneath!
The pop-up forearm misses!
Solomon turns—
TOTAL KNOCKOUT!
Summer nearly takes his head off with the superkick!
The impact rocks him backward.
His legs wobble.
His eyes glaze for just a moment.
And that's all Betsy needs.
The champion slips behind him.
Cobra clutch secured.
Leg sweep!
DOWN YOU GO!
Solomon crashes violently onto the canvas.
TODD: DOWN YOU GO!
BAMA: They got him!
The crowd explodes.
Summer immediately dives toward a cover.
As does Betsy!
The two women collide before either can secure a pin.
Forehead to forehead.
Knee to knee.
Hand to hand.
Neither willing to surrender the opening.
Behind them, Solomon slowly rolls beneath the bottom rope.
The challenger hits the floor outside.
TODD: Solomon wisely creating some distance!
BAMA: Even a Psycho knows when you need to take five!
The Martian crowd buzzes with anticipation.
Summer and Betsy slowly rise to their feet…
Then both women surge forward at exactly the same time.
…Summer throws a forearm.
Betsy answers with one of her own.
Summer.
Betsy.
Summer.
Betsy.
The strikes crack through the thin Martian atmosphere as the crowd rises to its feet.
TODD: Listen to these shots! Neither woman giving an inch. Neither woman willing to blink first.
BAMA: Betsy might know, what’s the Martian word for ‘concussion protocol’?
Summer swings again.
Betsy ducks underneath.
Armwringer!
The champion twists the arm and immediately rolls into a spinning wristlock.
Summer grimaces.
Betsy transitions beautifully.
One hold flowing seamlessly into the next.
TODD: This is where Betsy Granger excels! Technique! Transitions! Constant movement!
BAMA: The Revolution Champion moving with the confidence of someone who belongs here. Someone who has already climbed the mountain!
Summer drops to a knee.
Rolls through.
Reverses the pressure.
The crowd pops.
She yanks Betsy forward.
SNAP DDT!
NO!
Betsy cartwheels free.
The champion lands on her feet.
Summer's eyes widen.
Betsy grins.
Then immediately blasts her with a karate-style middle kick to the ribs.
Summer doubles over.
Betsy grabs a front facelock.
Looking for Galactic Advantage—
But Summer refuses to go.
Plants her feet.
TODD: Summer's not letting her get it!
BAMA: Because she knows what's on the line! She’s fighting like her life depends on getting that belt!
TODD: To her, it feels that way, Bama! She’s taking it to Betsy, not with technique or elegance, but pure stubborn determination!
BAMA: The Bitch is Back, baby!
The crowd roars as Summer muscles free.
She shoves Betsy backward.
High Knee!
Betsy barely avoids it.
The knee whistles past her face.
Summer lands.
Spins.
Chick Kick!
Betsy blocks it.
The champion catches the leg.
Sweeps the standing foot.
Summer crashes onto her back.
Immediately she rolls back up.
TODD: Neither woman willing to stay grounded here!
BAMA: Neither willing to concede even a fraction of a second of momentum!
Betsy goes for a clinch.
Summer answers with one of her own.
Collar and elbow.
Both women strain.
Boots digging into the canvas.
Foreheads pressed together.
Pushing.
Pulling.
Searching.
TODD: Look at this!
BAMA: Summer's hanging with her!
Betsy tries to transition to a sideheadlock!
…When Summer suddenly slips behind.
Sleeper hold!
IN YOUR DREAMS!
The crowd erupts.
Betsy immediately drops her weight.
Fighting the grip.
Summer squeezes harder. Harder still! Eyes wild!
TODD: You can practically see all of it pouring through her clenched teeth. Every “almost”, every “so close”, Summer has felt opportunity slip through her fingers so she’s holding Betsy’s throat with all she’s got!
BAMA: C'mon, girl! This is your moment!
Betsy reaches back.
Grabs the wrist.
Twists.
Turns.
Spins through.
Suddenly they're face-to-face again.
Summer grabs a wrist.
Betsy grabs one back.
The two women become entangled.
Arm against arm.
Shoulder against shoulder.
Neither seeing what was happening behind them.
Outside the ring.
Solomon Kline had recovered.
The challenger pulls himself onto the apron.
The crowd begins to stir.
A murmur ripples through SpaceX Arena.
TODD: Wait a minute…
Inside the ring, Summer attempts to wrench Betsy into another hold.
Betsy counters.
Summer counters the counter.
Betsy blocks that.
The stalemate continues.
Neither competitor noticing Solomon climbing.
One turnbuckle.
Then another.
Then another.
Until suddenly—
The entire crowd rises.
TODD: BETSY! SUMMER! TURN AROUND!
Neither does.
Solomon reaches the top rope.
Balances.
Launches.
SPRINGBOARD—
ASHES TO ASHES!!
The pop-up forearm smash detonates into BOTH WOMEN at once!
The impact is catastrophic.
Summer flips backward.
Betsy crumples sideways.
Solomon crashes down with them.
All three competitors collapse into a tangled heap in the center of the ring.
The crowd explodes.
TODD: SPRINGBOARD ASHES TO ASHES!!
BAMA: GOOD LORD ALMIGHTY!!
TODD: HE JUST TOOK OUT BOTH OF THEM!
BAMA: THAT'S WHY THIS MAN IS DANGEROUS!
The crowd leaps to their feet in anticipation as the first two up are…
Betsy and Kline!
Kline boots Granger in the stomach! He turns around, sitting on her doubled-over form to twist into a Dust to Dust…
…But Betsy plants her feet and twists around!
BACKSLIDE!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NO! Kline kicks out!
TODD: Betsy almost stole this one again!
Kline rolls up to his feet as Betsy backward somersaults into the ropes!
Kline goes for a clothesline over the top ropes to Betsy!
But Betsy back-body drops Kline up and over!
He lands on the apron!
Betsy goes for a front facelock!
But Kline drives his knee through the ropes, catching Betsy in the gut!
Betsy doubles over…
And Kline suplexes Betsy up and over the top rope!
Betsy lands with a sickening thud on the padded concrete outside the ring!
TODD: WOW! What a move by the Psycho!
BAMA: Kline just took out Betsy! The only thing standing between Kline and the Revolution Title now is Summer Page!
Kline steps through the ropes just as Summer slowly rises to one knee!
Kline dashes in, looking for a leaping…
ASHES TO ASHES!
…But Summer sidesteps!
She catches Kline in a side grapple, looking for a…
RUSSIAN LEGSWEEP!
…But Kline blocks it! He throws a wild side elbow!
…But Summer ducks under! Kline spins over!
Summer catches him with a boot to the stomach!
Kline doubles over!
And Summer hooks him in a front facelock!
TODD: Oh my! Summer has Kline! She’s looking for a Pure Perfection!
Page goes to lift Kline!
PURE PERFECTION!
…
No! Kline drops behind Page, landing on his feet!
Page spins around!
BOOT TO THE STOMACH!
Kline sets Page up, sitting on her back looking for…
DUST TO DUST!
…
NO! Page lifts her back!
Inverted back body drop dumps Kline on his face!
TODD: Oof! That move wasn’t pretty, but it looks like it knocked Kline for a loop!
Kline scrambles a little dazed on his feet!
But Page is ready!
TOTAL KNOCKOUT! SUPERKICK!
TODD: Oh shit! OH SHIT!
BAMA: SUMMER PAGE! SUMMER PAGE! SUMMER PAGE!
Summer scrambles into a cover, hooking the leg!
Outside the ring, Betsy shakes off cobwebs, rising up to her feet!
ONE!
Betsy rolls under the bottom rope!
TWO!
Betsy dives onto the pin!
…
RIGHT AFTER THE REF COUNTS TO THREE!
TODD: HOLY SHIT!
BAMA: HO-LEE SHIT!
WINNER AND NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW XWF REVOLUTION: ‘SPOILED’ SUMMER PAGE
BAMA: SHE DID IT! SHE ACTUALLY DID IT!
TODD: It was a hunt multiple years in the making! She came so close so many times! She’s been called a title match choker many times, including by her previous opponents!
BAMA: Including the man she just pinned, Toddrick! But Summer Page finally got the job done! And for the first time in her XWF career, she has championship gold around her waist!
TODD: Our next match is for the Anarchy championship! And it’s a duel between two of the most game competitors on Thursday night!
"Sex Metal Barbie" by In This Moment plays as Jenny Myst makes her way to the ring.
The lights drop hard.
A low pink glow bleeds across the arena as the opening pulse of “Sex Metal Barbie” hits—industrial, predatory, unmistakable. The crowd reaction swells immediately, a mix of boos, awe, and uneasy anticipation, because everyone knows what that song means.
Then she steps through the curtain.
Jenny Myst doesn’t rush. She arrives.
Leather gleams under the lights as she pauses at the top of the ramp, chin tilted slightly upward, eyes scanning the crowd like she’s counting debts. The X-Division Championship, Mortimer, rests over her shoulder—not displayed, not flaunted—carried like a weapon she’s already used tonight. Her expression is calm, almost bored, but there’s cruelty sitting just beneath it, coiled and patient.
On the second beat drop, she rolls her shoulders and starts down the ramp with deliberate, confident strides. Each step syncs with the rhythm—measured, heavy, inevitable. She ignores the fans reaching out, the insults, the chants. Their noise doesn’t register. This isn’t their moment. It’s hers.
TODD: Jenny Myst looked absolutely dominant against the Revolution champion, XXXVI! And she took former Universal champion, Dickie Watson to his absolute limit!
BAMA: Jenny is a bright star on Anarchy, no doubt! And she’s the stiffest challenge that the Anarchy champ has faced in her reign!
TODD: But, Furry’s no slouch! And I think there’s a question of whether Myst knows who the champ is! She seemed to think Miss FURRY was a new costume on Miss FURY!
BAMA: A misunderstanding that Furry has dealt with her whole career!
TODD: Myst is a dangerous challenger against any opponent! Can she overcome the Anarchy champion?
Halfway down, Jenny stops.
She turns slowly, eyes locking with the hard camera, and smirks—not playful, not charming, but sharp. A reminder. She lifts Mortimer just enough for the gold to catch the light, mouthing a few words only the camera gets: mine. Then she lets the title fall back against her shoulder like it belongs there… because it does.
At ringside, she wipes her boots on the apron with exaggerated care before stepping up, climbing through the ropes with smooth precision. No wasted movement. No nerves. Inside the ring, she walks straight to the center, turning once more as the music continues to snarl through the arena.
Jenny Myst raises the title high—not for the crowd, but for her opponent—eyes cold, posture relaxed, utterly in control.
The music fades.
And suddenly, the ring feels smaller.
…
The lights dim as the opening drums of She's My Collar roll through the arena. Miss Furry steps out slowly, but doesn’t acknowledge the crowd.
TODD: And there she is! The reigning and defending Anarchy champion, Miss Furry!
BAMA: That furball started as Micheal Graves’s student… basically his meatshield… but, even I gotta admit, she’s been on the hottest hot streak! And she took it all the way to a reign with the big belt!
TODD: Miss Furry has remained undefeated in her latest run on Anarchy! And she’s done it quietly! She’s not boisterous or braggadocious, but what she has been is analytical!
BAMA: When you aren’t worried about being the loudest voice in the room, you really get to listen to your opponent and find what makes them tick!
TODD: Jenny’s historically been the loudest voice on whatever mic she’s in front of… and Furry called that out! But Myst’s most recent promo was… thoughtful! Positive, even! Furry prepped for the queen of mean, Her X-Cellency! But how will the Anarchy champ handle this new Jenny Myst?
She calmly walks the ramp and slips between the ropes with minimal effort. She settles into the corner, leaning back casually, licking her paw and cleaning herself in preparation of the upcoming match.
The flames erupt around the ring in a roaring circle of orange and gold.
TODD: Look at these flames. Controlled. Constant. Close.
BAMA: Close enough that every time somebody approaches the ropes, the heat immediately becomes a factor.
The Anarchy Championship sits ringside on a pedestal.
Miss Furry stands in her corner.
Still.
Watching.
Jenny Myst stands across from her.
Not still.
Jenny bounces lightly on her feet, rolling her shoulders, glancing at the flames, then back at the champion.
TODD: Here we go! Inferno Match for the XWF Anarchy Championship!
BAMA: Lord have mercy. How the hell did Dolly’s Union sign off on this one? Workman’s Comp is gonna have a field day!
Neither woman moves.
The fire crackles.
Finally, Furry immediately shoots forward.
Not emotional.
Not reckless.
Just fast.
She snatches a wrist.
Arm drag.
Jenny tumbles across the mat.
Grounded headlock.
Tight.
Immediate.
TODD: Quick takedown by the champion!
BAMA: See? That's what I'm talkin' about! Quit philosophizin' and start wrasslin'!
Jenny's smile remains visible despite having her cheek mashed into the canvas.
The champion abruptly grinds her forearm across Jenny's face.
TODD: Furry looking furry-OUS out there!
BAMA: That kinda move ain’t injury, that’s pure insult! Irritating! Annoying! Trying to throw the challenger back into anger! Trying to throw her off her game!
Jenny works to a knee.
Furry keeps the headlock.
Jenny rises.
Back suplex attempt—
Furry floats behind.
Short knee to the ribs.
Another.
Another.
Jenny doubles over.
Russian leg sweep.
THUMP.
The challenger hits hard.
Furry never lets her build momentum.
Never lets her breathe.
The champion immediately grabs another headlock.
Grinding.
Patient.
Methodical.
Exactly as advertised.
TODD: Furry seems determined to slow this match down.
BAMA: She ain't trying to beat Jenny. She's trying to make Jenny live in this match. Making it clear that Jenny might prefer the fire to getting beat like a cheap drum!
Jenny finally wedges her fingers between Furry's grip and her jaw.
She squirms free.
Rolls backward.
Both women stand.
The crowd applauds the exchange.
…
Both charge in.
Furry immediately sweeps her leg.
Jenny crashes onto her back.
The crowd laughs.
TODD: Legsweep!
BAMA: Myst is trying to wrestle a match! Furry’s treating this like a catfight! She ain’t putting on a show, she’s chipping towards a win!
Jenny sits up.
Laughing.
Actually laughing.
Furry's expression never changes.
The champion grabs Jenny by the wrist and drags her toward the ropes.
Not quickly.
Purposefully.
The flames hiss and crackle nearby.
Now the crowd gets louder.
Everybody realizes what's happening.
TODD: Uh-oh.
BAMA: First trip to the danger zone!
Furry pulls Jenny closer.
Jenny's joking demeanor finally fades a little.
TODD: Looks like Jenny’s finally appreciating the risk at play here!
BAMA: Myst is someone who’s called her opponents fake… the bravado, the insults, how self-important her opponents are? Imagined. But that fire? That fire is REAL.
Furry forces her down onto her knees.
Neck wrench.
Crank.
Crank.
Crank.
Jenny's face is pointed directly toward the flames.
The crowd can see the orange reflection dancing across her features.
TODD: Smart strategy by the champion!
BAMA: That's where all that psychology stuff disappears, partner. Ain't no theories or motivations… Just a big fuckin’ fire.
Jenny winces.
Furry leans down close enough for only Jenny to hear.
Jenny grits her teeth.
Then smirks.
Furry cranks harder.
Jenny suddenly twists.
Roll-through.
Arm drag.
Furry tumbles forward—
—and for the first time in the match, the champion finds herself sliding toward the ropes.
Toward the fire!
The crowd erupts.
Furry immediately digs her boots into the canvas and stops herself before getting dangerously close.
Both women scramble apart.
Both women stand.
TODD: That was close!
BAMA: You know what I love?
TODD: What?
BAMA: This match started with Jenny thinking Furry was Fury. I think Myst knows who she’s dealing with now… Now there's respect. Now, they both see who they’re dealing with.
TODD: And neither has blinked.
Jenny slowly circles.
Furry circles opposite.
The fire crackles.
The crowd buzzes.
Jenny smirks.
Furry sees it.
Her stance lowers, ready for an attack to the gut…
But, Jenny darts forward, going for the throat!
Forearm smash!
Furry absorbs it and swings back—
Jenny ducks underneath.
Over-the-shoulder arm drag!
The champion tumbles across the canvas.
Back to her feet immediately.
Jenny is already there.
Tilt-a-whirl—
HEADSCISSORS TAKEDOWN!
Furry flips over and lands hard on her back.
The crowd pops.
TODD: Beautiful sequence by Jenny Myst!
BAMA: Look at her! She's finally quit gettin' wrestled and started wrestlin' back!
Furry pushes up onto an elbow.
Jenny doesn't let her settle.
Thesz Press!
The challenger crashes into her chest and starts hammering down short forearms.
One!
Two!
Three!
Four!
TODD: Jenny is teeing off on the Anarchy champion here!
BAMA: But look at that technique, Toddrick! Jenny’s not letting emotion come into it. She’s controlled! Measured! Centered. Myst has been in the ring with an opponent since her return, but it feels like she’s been fighting the doubters and naysayers. Right now, it feels like she’s fighting the woman across from her! And that’s a dangerous development for Furry!
Furry covers up. She tries to wriggle and claw to free herself, but Myst moves around her block to continue to striking through her guard!
Finally, Furry stops leaning forward and pries herself backwards…
Just enough to clinch her hand on the ropes!
TODD: Champ’s gotta be careful! The apron is on fire!
BAMA: You ever see an alleycat jump into a dumpster fire? Never go to downtown Tuscaloosa after the bars shut down, you will see some shit, Toddy baby!
Furry lifts her hand on the ropes, barely staying away from the flames…
The official starts to count!
But Jenny rises off her opponent without a fuss.
TODD: Jenny, thus far, sticking to her commitment to play this one clean!
BAMA: Honorable! And foolish! We could have seen a feline fireworks show play out there, Toddrick!
The challenger backs away with a grin.
Not celebrating.
Studying.
The same way Furry had been studying her earlier.
For the first time tonight, the champion is the one forced to stand up and reset.
The crowd senses the shift.
…Furry rises to her feet.
Both women move.
Furry reaches for a tie-up—
Jenny slips around behind.
Chokehold STO!
THUMP!
The champion bounces off the mat.
TODD: Jenny is putting together her first sustained offense of the match!
BAMA: And look at her face, Todd! She ain't laughin' now! She's thinkin'! That's dangerous!
Jenny immediately grabs hold of Furry's wrist.
Yanks her upward.
Whip.
Hard.
Furry gets sent sprinting toward the ropes.
Toward the flames.
The crowd rises.
Furry plants a foot—
But Jenny anticipated it.
Jenny rushes behind her and shoves with both hands from behind!
TODD: Jenny, throwing away technique for a moment and going for the win!
Suddenly the champion is stumbling directly toward the fire.
The heat blasts across her face.
Orange light fills her vision.
The crowd gasps.
TODD: NO!
BAMA: SHE'S GOT NOWHERE TO GO!
At the last possible second—
Furry springs.
One foot hits the middle rope.
Then the top.
Like she'd practiced it a thousand times.
Like gravity simply forgot to apply to her.
She vaults upward.
Her entire body folding and twisting through the air.
A breathtaking sideways handspring.
She clears the danger entirely.
Backflips within the ropes!
Balances.
Wobbles.
The flames lick inches from her boots.
The entire arena comes unglued.
TODD: HOW DID SHE DO THAT?!
BAMA: CAT! CAT STUFF! I DON'T KNOW!
Jenny's eyes go wide.
TODD: No smirk on Jenny’s face now! Just genuine disbelief at how Furry pulled that off!
BAMA: Myst and Furry both, Toddy boy! Furry knows just how close that was! One inch further.
One slip.
One hesitation.
And her reign might've been over.
TODD: Both women are getting a clear view over just how thin the margin for error really is!
Jenny recovers first.
She surges forward.
Shoulder lowered.
Looking to run right through the champion.
But this time Furry doesn't evade.
She catches her.
CLINCH.
Chest to chest.
Arm hooked around the neck.
The momentum carries both women stumbling toward the ropes.
Toward the fire.
The crowd's noise instantly changes.
Cheers become panic.
TODD: WAIT A MINUTE!
BAMA: The champion ain't backin' away!
Jenny plants her feet.
Furry keeps driving.
The flames roar beside them.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
For one terrifying second, it looks like Miss Furry has made peace with the possibility.
If Jenny burns first...
Maybe that's enough.
TODD: FURRY'S TAKING HERSELF RIGHT INTO THE DANGER ZONE!
BAMA: That's a champion's mentality, Todd! If we're both jumpin' off the cliff, I'm makin' sure you hit the rocks first! The rules aren’t “You lose if you catch on fire!” It’s “Whoever burns FIRST eats the L!”
Jenny's eyes widen.
Not fear.
Recognition.
The realization that Furry is willing to go places she hadn't anticipated.
Myst immediately breaks the clinch with a sharp elbow.
Both women stagger apart.
Then charge. Jenny fires off a…
SUPERKICK—
Caught!
Furry snatches the leg!
Dragon screw—
NO!
Jenny flips through it!
Landing on one foot!
ENZUIGIRI!
Furry ducks!
Short-arm clothesline—
Jenny folds backward beneath it!
Handspring!
Back toward the champion—
SNAP DDT!
NO!
Furry blocks!
Jawbreaker!
Jenny stumbles!
Furry charges!
Running corner knee—
Nobody home!
Jenny sidesteps!
Tilt-a-whirl headscissors—
Furry cartwheels through it!
The crowd explodes.
TODD: What a sequence!
BAMA: Neither one of 'em can finish the equation! Every answer's got another answer!
Furry hits the ropes.
Jenny follows.
Both women moving faster now.
Faster than earlier.
The caution is evaporating.
The danger is escalating.
Jenny swings first.
Forearm smash!
Furry answers with one of her own!
Jenny fires back!
Furry returns it!
The shots become faster.
Sharper.
Neither willing to give ground.
Neither willing to blink.
The crowd rises to their feet.
TODD: This thing is breaking down!
BAMA: No, sir! This thing is speedin' up!
Jenny throws another forearm.
Furry ducks underneath.
Spins.
Jenny spins too.
Both women launch simultaneously.
Both reading the same opening.
Both seeing the same finish.
CRACK!
CRACK!
Simultaneous headkicks.
One from each woman.
The impact echoes through the arena.
Then silence.
For a heartbeat.
Both competitors freeze.
Their eyes go glassy.
Their legs wobble.
And then both collapse to one knee.
The crowd gasps.
TODD: THEY CAUGHT EACH OTHER!
BAMA: OHHHHHHHH, THAT'S BAD!
Jenny blinks.
Once.
Twice.
The ring seems to tilt.
Furry shakes her head.
Trying to clear the fog.
The crowd begins stomping.
…
...
Jenny rises first.
Barely.
She surges forward.
Forearm smash!
Furry reels.
Another!
Furry staggers backward.
A third!
The champion nearly loses her footing.
TODD: Myst is pouring it on!
BAMA: Everybody's got a plan until their brain gets kicked into next Tuesday!
Furry answers with a desperate swing.
Jenny ducks.
Body shot.
Forearm.
Body shot.
Forearm.
The challenger is running on fumes.
But she's still moving.
Still thinking.
Still pressing.
Furry absorbs another shot and suddenly fires back with a short-arm clothesline!
Jenny ducks underneath!
SUPERKICK—
NO!
Furry catches the leg!
The crowd erupts!
Cat Scratch Fever—
NO!
Jenny spins through!
The champion gets ripped off balance!
Both women stumble toward the ropes.
Toward the flames.
Toward disaster.
TODD: LOOK OUT!
Furry plants herself.
Jenny doesn't.
Jenny drives forward.
Shoulder first.
Arms wrapping around the waist.
The crowd immediately realizes what she's trying.
TODD: OH MY GOD!
BAMA: SHE'S GONNA THROW HER IN!
Jenny digs deep.
Every ounce of strength.
Every ounce of frustration.
Every ounce of ambition.
The challenger lifts.
Furry comes off the mat.
The champion's eyes widen.
The flames roar behind her.
BAMA: Jenny has it! She has it!
TODD: The Anarchy Championship might just be one heave away from her Highness of Violence!
The crowd is already standing.
Already screaming.
Already seeing the ending.
But the champion suddenly hooks one arm around Jenny's shoulder.
Then twists.
TODD: Miss Furry going for an arm twist counter! But will it be enough to escape?!?
BAMA: …Wait… Is Furry trying to escape?
Furry’s pushing to drive back…
Jenny's back foot.
Furry's heel snaps backward.
A sharp mule kick.
Directly into Jenny's planted boot.
The kick drives the heel backward.
Into the flames.
FWOOOOSH!
The crowd explodes.
TODD: WAIT! WAIT! WAIT!
Jenny's eyes go wide.
The suplex vanishes instantly.
She drops Furry.
Stumbles away.
Frantically stomping.
One foot.
Two.
Three.
The small flame sputters.
Dies.
Gone.
TODD: SHE PUT IT OUT!
BAMA: DON'T MATTER! DON'T MATTER!
The referee is already waving his arms.
Already signaling.
Already calling for the bell.
DING DING DING!
Winner and STILL XWF Anarchy Champion : Miss Furry
For half a second Jenny doesn't understand.
Then she does.
The realization hits harder than any strike all night.
TODD: That's it! That's it!
BAMA: The match is over!
Jenny stares at the referee.
Then at her boot.
Then at Furry.
The challenger's chest rises and falls.
Disbelief.
Frustration.
A dozen possible emotions.
But beneath all of them...
Understanding.
Across the ring, Furry is still on one knee.
Exhausted.
Sweat dripping from beneath the mask.
She looks down at her hands.
Then at the fire.
Then at Jenny.
No celebration.
Just relief.
TODD: What an unbelievable finish!
BAMA: That's why she's the champ, Todd!
TODD: Jenny Myst was seconds away from winning the Anarchy Championship!
BAMA: But she got greedy! She saw the ending! Furry saw the opening!
Returning from a break, even in a high-stakes situation like tonight, the mercurial ALIAS’s grand return features him merely sitting cross-legged in the ring… waiting.
JC: It's been over two years since ALIAS’s last match. Three since his last in XWF. And in almost that entire time, Kieran King has been at the top of the proverbial food chain.
JR: No theme music? No grand entrance?
JC: Oh, right, I forgot that you probably haven't seen ALIAS in person before. Yeah, this is pretty much par for the course for him.
JR: I would’ve thought there’d be some pageantry or something after all I’ve heard.
JC: It’s hard to know what goes on in that man’s head, Joe. But for all the smoke and mirrors associated with him, ALIAS seems content to forgo it all and bring things back to the basics that he became known for while dominating this company five years ago. And you’ve got to think, here on Mars, this must feel like a home game for the guy.
JR: I literally don’t know what that means in this context.
JC: I don’t know if I do either…
The first, frenetic strums of Faith No More's "Gentle Art of Making Enemies" rips through the arena as strobes of gold and white cast across the stage and crowd. After several moments, and then a few more for good measure, Kieran King eventually emerges onto the stage.
He seems to have left the smug taunting of the crowd behind on Earth, and he zeroes in on the ring with a focus he’s not well known for. Or perhaps, it’s on the man who awaits him there.
The crowd welcomes him nonetheless, raining down chants to drown out his music.
“ALIAS IS GONNA KILL YOU!
ALIAS IS GONNA KILL YOU!
ALIAS IS GONNA KILL YOU!’
He does his best to pay them no mind.
JC: Just six months ago, a case could have been made for Kieran King being the greatest wrestler in the world. I don’t like the guy, but even I have to admit that. Maybe today he still is? In order to walk out of here with his career intact, he might just need to be.
JR: If you choose to believe him, Kieran King has been open about what he thinks of all of this. To him, this isn’t about being the best wrestler tonight. It’s about making his legacy mean something. Three Universal Titles, two Kings of the Ring, Star of the Year, World Champion, X-Treme Champion… he has a legend’s resume and he is fighting tonight to make sure the world sees him in that light.
JC: ALIAS is no slouch either though. Two Universal Titles himself, Star of the Year, X-Treme Champion, 24/7 Briefcase, and one of the best win-loss records of all time. There is no other combination of opponents on the roster today that can beat the combined accolades of these two men.
JR: And yet after tonight, the XWF will never see one of them again.
Kieran enters the ring and watches suspiciously—even as he climbs the corner and looks out to the crowd—as ALIAS remains seated.
There is no grand stand off as a result. ALIAS undercuts that moment and King himself gives the instruction to the ref.
“Ring the fucking bell.”
Kieran King
- vs -
ALIAS Loser Leaves Town
The bell rings.
Kieran King immediately begins circling around ALIAS, who remains seated. King feints in, testing his foe’s reactions.
ALIAS doesn't even move.
King feints again, and this time, ALIAS slowly cocks his head in King’s direction.
King mouths some sort of obscenity and readies a strike—a real one this time. Immediately ALIAS springs to his feet with an odd agility for a man of such awkward physicality. The crowd rises with him, but to his credit, Kieran King shows no surprise.
The stare down between the two finally comes as the crowd showers them with emotion.
JC: For one of these men, this will be the last time they ever compete in the XWF!
They lock up.
ALIAS, being bigger and stronger, begins to push back on King but the deft two-time King of the XWF slips behind ALIAS and applies a side headlock. ALIAS pushes him into the ropes and sends him running. King rebounds and crashes into ALIAS with a rapid forearm smash that knocks him to the mat.
JR: King gets the first strike!
ALIAS quickly sits up, staring at King.
King bounces off the ropes again. As he approaches, ALIAS drops back down. King leaps over him. ALIAS pops up and swings for a clothesline. King ducks. He rebounds again and catches ALIAS with another forearm smash.
This time, ALIAS absorbs the hit and stays standing.
King doesn't waste any time complaining. He snaps on another headlock and wrenches backwards, keeping the pressure on. With his angle of leverage, King even forces ALIAS down to one knee!
JC: Seeing this makes me wonder whether ALIAS still has ‘it’. Kieran King has come out of the gate seemingly knowing exactly what he needs to do to keep ALIAS from getting into this match.
JR: It's a good strategy—don't give the other guy a chance to think.
ALIAS manages to get an elbow in front of King. He then drives it backwards into King’s gut and uses the loosening of King’s grip as an opportunity to get to his feet. He sends King into the ropes once more. King comes off with speed, but this time ALIAS catches him with a hard elbow that stops him cold. King stumbles backward.
Taking a page out of King's book when it comes to speed, ALIAS immediately goes on the attack.
He drives a forearm into King's face and follows with another. King backs into the corner. ALIAS closes the distance and starts hammering away with punches. The referee steps in, trying to create separation, but ALIAS pushes right past him, determined.
King slips out of the corner and fires back with a series of right hands.
He whips ALIAS into the ropes and catches him with a dropkick. ALIAS crashes down and rolls toward the corner.
He pulls himself up.
King charges.
ALIAS suddenly lifts a boot and catches him in the face.
‘Space Jesus’ follows with a clothesline that turns King inside out and draws a huge response from the crowd.
JR: You might have spoken too soon, Jac!
ALIAS drags King to his feet and throws him through the ropes to the floor. The landing is a rough one.
ALIAS follows him outside.
JC: Notice how ALIAS didn't go for a pin though.
JR: I don't think he wants to win from a clothesline. He wants to take everything from Kieran!
JC: He has to be careful though. I’m pretty sure Kieran King would be happy to win by any means necessary!
Outside the ring, King uses the steps to drag himself to his feet. ALIAS snags him and slams him face first into the steps. King staggers backwards and ALIAS grabs him again, this time ramming his face into the ringside barrier. King bounces off and tries to put some space between the two. ALIAS stays right on him as the referee begins to count both men out.
ONE…
ALIAS throws punches and clubbing blows to King’s back all the way down one side of the ring. He slams his foe’s face into the barricade one more time before finally stepping back.
TWO…
THREE…
ALIAS doesn't stop moving, however. He kneels down and begins pulling up the protective mats.
The crowd reacts immediately.
Soon the bare ground underneath is exposed.
FOUR…
FIVE…
ALIAS rolls back inside the ring and straight out again, resetting the ref’s count.
JR: Smart move there to buy yourself more time to punish your opponent.
ALIAS grabs King again. He tries to drag him towards the exposed floor. King fights back with elbows to the midsection. He creates enough separation to escape and finds salvation at the same barrier his face had a meet cute with just moments ago.
The ref is counting again.
ONE…
Meanwhile, ALIAS charges.
But King suddenly fires a pele kick over his shoulder!
ALIAS crashes backward onto the exposed concrete! The impact sends him sprawling!
King catches his breath.
TWO…
THREE…
And then he pounces. He stomps away at ALIAS and then pulls him up to a seated position only to drive him backwards into the concrete again. ALIAS's head hits with a disturbing sound that sends a gasp around the Martian base.
JC: That's a concussion waiting to happen!
JR: I wonder if it would make him a little more normal?
King pounces and unloads with punches as the downed ALIAS struggles to defend himself.
FOUR…
FIVE…
King gives a final punt-like swing to a seated ALIAS's chest and then rolls back in the ring.
SIX…
He tells the ref to keep counting.
JC: It's like I said, Kieran King will take a win any way he can!
SEVEN…
EIGHT…
ALIAS, however, is like a hound who has caught a scent. He soon clambers back into the ring as well.
King meets him with quick, stabbing kicks to the legs.
ALIAS again tries to absorb the blows, but at the very least, they slow him down some. He responds with fists and elbow strikes of his own.
The two men exchange blows in the middle of the ring.
King kicks. The crowd boos.
ALIAS strikes. The crowd roars.
And so on.
JC: Listen to this crowd!
JR: They say nobody can hear you in space, but we can sure hear these guys in a prefabricated arena in space!
ALIAS gains the advantage and whips King towards the corner.
King counters mid-whip and spins ALIAS into the turnbuckles instead.
He charges after him and leaps with a Stinger Splash.
ALIAS moves.
King collides with the turnbuckles.
ALIAS grabs him from behind and drives him into the corner again, with the point of his shoulder right in King's back, bending the three-time Universal Champion the wrong way.
He pulls King over into an inverted facelock. He then lurches downwards, driving his knee into the spine of Kieran King. And ALIAS holds on! He drops King with a Reverse DDT! And immediately transitions into a grounded attack.
JC: Again, ALIAS chooses not to make a cover!
With King down, ALIAS drives his knee into whatever part of his body he can get a hold of—thigh, abdomen, throat. King tries to protect his softer parts by rolling over, but ALIAS clasps a firm hand into the nerves around the shoulder and neck of King, pulling him backwards.
King, on his knees, shouts out in pain. He reaches out for the ropes but is too far away!
With all his might, he tries to throw himself forward.
ALIAS pulls him back.
The nerve hold doesn't budge at all.
Again King tries to stretch forwards!
Again ALIAS pulls him back!
But King throws himself backwards and offsets ALIAS's balance. He rolls right onto his feet and even this largely anti-Kieran King crowd gives a cheer of appreciation at the smoothness of it all.
Before ALIAS even knows it, a buzzsaw damn near takes his head off!
King dives down for a cover!
ONE!
TWO!
ALIAS powers out!
JC: Say what you will about Kieran King but he's proving right now why he was the 2025 Star of the Year. He's digging deep and coming up with answer after answer for what ALIAS is throwing at him.
Both men pull themselves to their feet. ALIAS steps out of the corner he's in, only to be sent right back in with a shotgun dropkick.
Again ALIAS tries to rise. King steps up off the ropes and connects with his shin across ALIAS's face. Not giving the once-dominant force any space, Kieran is immediately up on the middle rope, straddling ALIAS. He drops backwards, monkey flipping ALIAS out of the corner.
ALIAS lands on his feet!
JC: What the hell?! If Kieran did that, it might make sense, but ALIAS just showed insane agility for a guy his size!
JR: And look at his face, Jac!
The X-Tron zooms in as ALIAS's head turns slowly towards King. The way his eyes hold their focus carries a weight and power that hadn't been felt previously.
King closes the gap.
ALIAS buries a knee into his midsection. He follows it with a series of punches before whipping King hard across the ring where he crashes into the opposite turnbuckles.
He continues the assault.
A forearm.
Then another.
King looks dazed.
ALIAS whips him again.
This time King reverses.
But ALIAS reverses it right back!
King hits the corner.
ALIAS explodes forward with a spear that damn near cuts King in two.
The crowd erupts.
ALIAS sits up.
His eyes remain locked in focus.
JR: Jacuinde, you might have spoken too soon when you were hyping Kieran up!
JC: That's a mistake I'm happy to make, Joe!
He pulls King up and after another couple of punches, fires him off to the ropes yet again. King rebounds straight into ALIAS's waiting arms who hoists him up and falls backwards.
King's throat lands right across the top rope.
He bounces back, holding onto the ropes to keep himself up. ALIAS is there. Forearm. Punch. Elbow. Forearm. Punch. Elbow.
King pushes him back.
ALIAS doesn't stay away for long.
Forearm. Punch. Elbow. Forearm. Punch. Elbow. He even feigns a hit with one hand only to poke King in the eyes with the other.
The ref doesn't like it, but ALIAS doesn't care.
King obviously doesn't like it either and bails from the ring, covering his eyes.
ALIAS pursues only for King to roll back into the ring to get the distance he so desperately seeks.
Once more, ALIAS follows after.
He's rocked by a dropkick.
King can't get there to cover quick enough but he can land a few forearms, punches and elbows of his own.
A snapping kick to the midsection, however, is caught by ALIAS who thrusts his shoulder into King and drives right through him in some sort of messy tackle-spinebuster combination.
That strange sensation is seen in ALIAS's eyes and he starts blatantly choking Kieran right in front of the referee.
JR: Hey! Shouldn't that be a disqualification?
The referee admonishes ALIAS but doesn't call for the bell. He begins to count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
ALIAS breaks the choke at the last second and allows the ref to continue his tirade about rules or whatever.
JC: I guess with stakes as high as this—one man's career will be OVER tonight—our official is allowing a little leniency.
JR: Why do you sound so happy about that?
JC: Total coincidence, Joe! I'm a professional.
ALIAS begins to increase the offense. A nasty DDT is followed by a stiff elbow to King’s chest, which in turn is followed by an inverted suplex slam that sees King bounce face first off the mat.
Slowly, methodically, he begins to circle King, stomping at him in much the same way King had been stomping on ALIAS earlier in the match.
Suddenly, ALIAS drops into a cross-legged seat by King’s head.
He watches as King struggles to push himself from the mat.
The crowd launches into the same chant they serenaded King with on his way to the ring: “ALIAS IS GONNA KILL YOU!”
On all fours, King finally looks up and makes eye contact with his alleged killer.
Defiant, and certainly on brand, he spits right in ALIAS's face!
Space Jesus's expression doesn't sell it, but he suddenly lurches forward and goozles King's throat. Superhumanly, he hoists King up with one hand.
But King pokes ALIAS in the eyes!
JR: That's called a receipt, right Jac?
JC: It also might be the opening King needs to get back into this match!
A right hand from King lands.
So does a left.
He kicks at ALIAS's legs!
Again and again, like a lumberjack chopping at a tree.
ALIAS throws a punch.
King a kick.
ALIAS a punch.
King a kick.
ALIAS… misses!
King ducks under!
Another kick!
Another!
Another!
The fire and passion bring the crowd alive once more!
ALIAS backs towards the ropes.
A superkick sends him tumbling over!
King watches as ALIAS hits the ground outside. He sees the bright lights in the ceiling and believes he belongs among them. He climbs to the top rope and as ALIAS rises, Kieran dives through the air with a crossbody that may as well have been in zero gravity!
JR: Look at the hang time!
JC: From up in the Martian atmosphere, Kieran King wipes out ALIAS!
King clutches his back, he clutches his abdomen, he clutches bloody well everything as he gets to his feet. And he sees the exposed ground from earlier. And he sees ALIAS's head.
F Ur Head!
King drives ALIAS into the ground outside the ring with his patented brainbuster.
JR: That's it! That's it! That's all she wrote!
JC: Kieran King just needs to get ALIAS back in the ring and ALIAS's career is surely over!
King rolls ALIAS under the ropes. It's a lot of effort to keep rolling him further into the ring and away from the ropes. A trail of blood smears the mat in the process from a gash that has now opened up on ALIAS's head. Eventually King covers.
ONE!
TWO!
No! ALIAS shoots a shoulder up just in time!
JC: The time it took to get ALIAS in was all that stopped Kieran King from winning just then!
But Kieran King sees his opportunity. ALIAS may have gotten his shoulder up but he's still flat on his back in the middle of the ring.
He climbs the top rope.
King Maker!
Misses!
ALIAS rolls out of the way, and King crashes and burns.
Everybody is on their feet except the two men in the middle of the ring!
The referee once again has a reason to count!
ONE…
TWO…
THREE…
FOUR…
ALIAS is visibly breathing heavy. King squirms about.
FIVE…
SIX…
ALIAS flips to his stomach. King crawls towards the side of the ring.
SEVEN…
King grabs the rope and tries to pull himself up.
EIGHT…
King's up! But ALIAS is barely on one knee.
NINE…
ALIAS stands!
Both men wobble on their feet as they stare each other down. Blood mats his hair a dirty red and it drips down over his face.
JC: These men are warriors, Joe!
JR: Even Kieran?
JC: …Even Kieran.
Neither man deters from their mission. They launch into each other once again—slower and with more weight behind each strike. But both men don't do as good a job at defending themselves.
ALIAS manages to catch another kick. King tries to step up into an enziguri from it. ALIAS ducks, leaving King to land facing the other way. ALIAS winds up a huge clothesline, but this time King ducks, turning in the process and bolting for the ropes. He bounds up to the middle rope and springboards into a hurricanrana. But ALIAS catches him. He lifts him up into the air, and drops down with a lungblower!
Kieran King's body hits zero gravity again as he flies up from ALIAS's knees, before being hurled back down to the mat.
ALIAS rolls over and grabs him in a rear naked choke!
JC: The Dream! ALIAS is finally trying to end this himself!
King flails wildly and desperately as he tries to get to the ropes. It's to no avail! He begins to fade.
JR: This might be it for Kieran King's career!
Just as the ref drops down to check if he's out cold, however, King surges back to life.
He kicks and flails some more!
Eventually his leg finds the ropes! His foot hooks it and it doesn't go anywhere.
Again ALIAS uses the full extent of the count before he breaks the hold.
As the 2025 Star of the Year struggles to get air back into his lungs, the 2021 Star of the Year stalks him.
He pulls King up…
UGLY ON THE OUTSIDE!!! Out of nowhere from Kieran King!
King desperately makes a cover!
ONE…!
TWO…!
THREE…
…NO!
JR: Holy shit!!!
An incensed look crosses over Kieran King's face. He hangs himself half through the ropes and starts calling down to the entrance, beckoning for someone to come.
JC: Wait… what's this?
JR: It looks like the former King of the XWF may have some sort of contingency plan!
JC: Oh I knew he would do something like this just when I was starting to respect him!
King beckons and beckons… but nobody comes.
He looks confused and irate.
Suddenly there is movement at the end of the ramp!
It's the former Kingsguard!!!
The man in the front mouths very clear words for Kieran to hear: “Nobody is coming.”
King's eyes go wild! He turns back into the ring only for a hand to be shoved straight down his mouth!
EAT THE LEFT HAND!
-----BLINK!----
The scene isn't Mars anymore.
A man sits in a lounge chair watching wrestling on the TV.
He calls out, “Hurry up, kiddo! You’re missing it!”
A child soon enters, no more than seven. He's in nothing but his underwear and boots, with a sheet trailing behind him like a superhero’s cape.
“I am Kieran the King!” He exclaims.
His father laughs. “One day, maybe, Kiki.”
A woman enters the room carrying snacks. “Go put something warmer on before you get sick.”
The adult Kieran, somehow watching the scene, stammered. “...Mum?”
But the scene was over.
-----BLINK!----
We're not back on Mars.
This new scene is an old gym, and smells exactly like you'd expect.
“All right, Kieran, those 450s are clean as hell. I sure as shit can’t do that. But I’m going to take the mat away this time and put a body in, instead. It’s time to put up or shut up.”
XWF Legend, Lee Stone, does exactly as he said. He kicks a crash pad out under the bottom rope and on his instruction, one of his then-students lays down in the ring.
On the top rope is perched another student.
The young, barely eighteen, Kieran King leaps off! He spins faster than in any of his practice runs with the crash mat and lands on his back rather than his stomach! But he is square on the target student, who clutches at his abdomen as the air bursts out of his lungs.
“Holy hell!” Lee exclaims. “That was a goddamn 630!” He offers his hand down for Kieran to be pulled up and slaps him on the back—much firmer than Kieran would’ve liked. “You’re a prodigy, bro. The sky’s the limit.”
The younger Kieran smiled, proudly. “Thanks.”
His adult version again watched on.
-----BLINK!----
Once more the scene shifted.
A lone bulb flickers overhead of a chipped bathroom basin. The mirror hasn’t been cleaned in what seems like forever, and shows a ghoulish reflection of a scruffy man.
This version of Kieran King hasn’t shaved in months.
“Get your fine ass in here, or I’m going to do this all myself!” he called.
An equally affected young woman enters the bathroom. Her clothes barely cover her body.
With one hand, Kieran grabs her by the ass and pulls her close. With the other, he delicately drips a bag of white powder onto the countertop.
His older counterpart hangs his head in shame at the man that he became.
-----BLINK!----
Meanwhile, on Mars…
JC: ALIAS has that trademark mandible claw locked onto Kieran King’s jaw!
King fights with everything that he has against the immobilising pressure that ALIAS applies. He’s forced to the mat… but lands close enough to grab a rope!
The referee forces the break!
This time, ALIAS lets up right away, but doesn’t give King any space. He simply yanks him by the leg and hurls King away from the ropes.
King lets out an almighty roar.
JR: What the hell was that?
It wasn’t pain.
King slams his hands against the mat—invigorated in spite of the suffering he has experienced already.
“IT WASN’T FOR NOTHING!” he screams.
Somehow he finds the power to stand and face the crimson-stained ALIAS who menaces over him.
King holds his head up high. “It wasn’t for nothing,” he repeats, calmer and more determined than ever.
ALIAS cocks his head like a puppy.
And swings an open hand at Kieran King’s face.
King ducks under The Hand of God!
F UR HEAD!
He plants ALIAS!
Instead of covering though, he stumbles his way towards the corner.
And climbs.
On top of the turnbuckle, he pauses, looking out to a crowd that waits with baited breath.
Silence fills the arena.
As if they can sense something different is in the air.
And then he jumps.
The crowd explodes!!!
JR: King Maker!!!!
But not just any King Maker.
JC: 630! 630! KIERAN KING JUST HIT A 630 FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FIFTEEN YEARS!
He covers ALIAS!!!
ONE…!
TWO…!
THREE…
…
…
…
…
…NO!!!!!!
ALIAS KICKS OUT!!!
JC: HOW?! HOW?! HOW?!
Like Jacuinde, not a soul in the arena can believe it. Especially not King himself.
He was shock white. Everything that Kieran had worked for, everything he dug deep to find within himself… it wasn’t enough.
He sits in disbelief, looking for something more, but not sure that he had anything left.
ALIAS, somehow, stirs.
King doesn’t even notice. He looks up to the ceiling as if something up above it all would have his answers.
He finds enough to stand.
Kieran King turns to face ALIAS.
The uppercut connects.
As if in slow motion, Kieran King falls to the mat, his body making a perfect arc is he falls.
And ALIAS covers.
ONE…!
TWO…!
THREE…
…
…
…!!!
Winner: ALIAS
Kieran King must leave the XWF!
The cheer for ALIAS is loud and boisterous, but it doesn’t continue for long.
ALIAS himself can barely stand, not to mention Kieran King.
Soon, applause starts breaking out.
JC: Listen to this, Joe!
The match is over, but the will of the people still egg on the combatants.
It’s ALIAS who manages to rise first, and the referee quickly swoops in to raise his hand.
ALIAS quickly shakes the ref away. Across the mat, soaked with the winner’s own blood, Kieran King crawls.
Still, the crowd applauds.
JC: I thought there might be some sort of Na-Na-Na-Na song here tonight with this outcome, but all I’m hearing is respect from this crowd!
Kieran King finds his way to his knees. ALIAS towers over him, but King ignores him. His face is pained, but instead of mocking him, the crowd instead only gets louder with their applause.
So many rise to their feet.
“THANK YOU, KIERAN!”
“THANK YOU, KIERAN!”
JC: What a change one night can make.
And with that, Jacuinde himself rises.
ALIAS reaches down and offers Kieran King his hand.
King takes it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. After whispering something into King’s ear, ALIAS then leaves him alone in the ring.
And Kieran King takes his final bow.
JC: Ladies and Gentlemen, up next is one of the most highly anticipated matches of the evening…
As JC continues his opening remarks, the camera pans across the arena, spotting ripped t-shirts, middle-fingers, and lit cigarettes in the crowd. The most hardcore contingency of the fanbase showing up and showing out.
In the ring, the technicians are finishing their installment of
JR: ...an exploding barbed-wire rope match!
JC: And if it weren’t already evident enough, this match will be contested under XTREME RULES… with the XWF Championship on the line!
JR: Xtreme Rules and X’ploding Barbed-wire, sure, that has all of the necessary ingredients of a match violent enough to suit these two competitors tonight… but with one caveat…
We see Kristoffer Arroyo in the ring, hung upside down from the tunbuckle post, wearing a sleeveless referee top.
JC: One-half of the XWF Anarchy Tag Team Champions, “The VAMP” Kristoffer Arroyo, will be the special gues referee for this contest.
JR: And as if that isn’t a conflict of interest at all, Jack. Kristoffer has been begging to get his hands on the XTreme Champion now for months.
JC: The former disciple of Samael Dyson, Kristoffer Arroyo has seen the light - which one might think is dangerous for a vampire- but when you’re talking about one of the most dangerous men in professional wrestling today, I think it balances out.
JR: Well, maybe things would feel a little more balanced if this were a one on one match between Arroyo and Dyson, but instead, Dyson has to defend the championship against the reigning Star of The Month, a complete lunatic in his own right… Frances Marigold.
JC: You’d be biased to say that the odds haven’t been stacked against Dyson here tonight. Going toe to toe against a man he’s called a ‘masterpiece’... a ‘masterpiece’ he loves so much that he wants to kill it. But with his ‘immortal enemy’ serving as ref tonight, that’s going to be easier said than done.
As Nirvana's Tourette's blares through the loudspeakers, the cameras pan around the arena before finally spotting Frances Marigold
He appears in the stands, smoking a cigarette, jamming out with the fans. He cracks open a can of beer pours it down his throat before heading to the ring.
Frances steps through the ropes and immediately comes face to face with Arroyo, almost like he thought that was who he’s fighting. Arroyo glares at him and points at the striped shirt. Frances snarls and staggers back to the corner of the ring.
The arena descends into a kaleidoscope of strobe lights of various colors, inducing feelings of disorientation and illness in everyone present as the unsettling beat of “SICKO” by Health and Godflesh starts to play. The main screens come alive with a montage of eerie imagery of death, graphic pornography, blood, surgical scenes, and occult imagery (see the video for SICKO for an idea of what you’re seeing), interspersed with the words “DO AS THOU WILT”, “SODOMIZE THE INNOCENT”, “DO CRIMES” and “BE EVIL” throughout the imagery almost like subliminal messaging.
Samael Dyson hits the stage, flanked by…
JC: What on earth is that?!
JR: THATS THE UBERMENSCH! DYSON’S NEW BODYGUARD!
JC: Bodyguard? That thing is a monster! He… he must be 7 feet tall… 400 pounds!
JR: Now we’re talking about some balance!
The crowd buzzes with anticipation as Samael Dyson reaches the bottom of the ramp.
XTreme Championship slung over his shoulder.
The monstrous Ubermensch looming behind him.
A living wall of flesh and muscle.
The giant slowly scans the arena.
Samael grins. The points at Arroyo and begins laughing from in front of the apron.
Then suddenly - - -
JC: OH MY GOD!!!
The crowd detonates!
Frances Marigold launches from the top rope!!
STRAIGHT AT THE UBERMENSCH!
The diving spear crashes into the giant's head like a falling anvil.
The impact staggers the Ubermensch backward three full steps.
The audience loses its collective mind
Kristoffer looks stunned for a moment, then cautiously approaches the ropes, shouting for Frances and Sam to enter the ring..
JR: HE JUST DOVE ONTO A FOUR HUNDRED POUND MONSTER!
Frances rolls through the landing, and pops to one knee.
His hand is swift under the ring apron, snagging a steel chair, then immediately charges the beast.
CRACK!
The steel folds across the Ubermensch's back.
Nothing.
CRACK AGAIN!
Another chair shot.
Still nothing.
The giant slowly turns.
Frances sucks his teeth, then grins.
The Ubermensch roars.
He grabs Frances by the throat, and throws him into the barricade! The steel railing folding inward as Frances crashes through it. The Ubermensch stomps toward him, slow and deliberate. In the background Sam is cackling like a mad man, picking up Frances’ chair, commanding the Ubermensch to bring Frances to his feet.
He does as he’s commanded, and - - -
CRACK!
Sam folds the chair of Frances’ skull, dropping him right back to the cold arena floor.
Sam mounts him now… slowly… and begins trashing him in the forehead with sharp elbow strikes.
Arroyo hits the floor now and rushes to the scene, shouting and cursing at Dyson. Demanding he bring the fight to the ring. Sam stands, and turns curtly to face Kris, but before they can get close… The Ubermensch. He stands like a massive wall of meat, halting Kris right in his tracks.
Sam cackles in Kris’ direction from behind Ubermensch’s back, peeking out to do spooky fingers.
Kris looks at the both of them coldly, and points at the ring
‘NOW’
Sam drags Frances up by the hair and rolls him into the ring.
Kris enters from the other side and calls for the match to begin.
And Samael Dyson immediately pounces on the downed Marigold. Stomping him. Kicking him. Crawling on all fours, waiting for Frances to stir a bit and then headbutting him!
Frances falls back over, and Sam rises, and begins stomping him again. The repeated impacts sends Frances’ body rolling back near the ropes. Sam approaches - - - BUT KISTOFFER FROM BEHIND?!
He grabs Sam by the shoulder and spins him around. Admonishing the champion.
JR: There’s no rope breaks here, Jack! This is an XTreme Rules match!
JC: Maybe we cut Arroyo some slack. This is his first time officiating a wrestling match that we know of.
Sam hisses at Kris, while the monster watches from the outside with a nasty scowl. Meanwhile Frances rolls out and falls off the apron onto the floor.
THUD
This distracts Sam from his hatred of Kris and he scrambles out of the ring after him.
Frances is crawling up to all fours, but Sam is already there. He hammers Frances back against the concrete with a falling double axehandle, before dragging him toward the ring again.
Sam slams Frances face-first into the apron. Then rakes both eyes. Then bites his forehead. Then drives a knee directly into his groin.
JR: There he is, partner. This is classic Samael Dyson.
JC: Classic? Isn’t he barely old enough to drink alcohol?
Frances doubles over, and Sam immediately hooks him.
SITOUT PILEDRIVER ONTO THE FLOOR!!!!!!!!!!!
BAM!
Frances spikes headfirst into the concrete.
Sam covers.
Kristoffer Arroyo reluctantly climbs out of the ring and drops down.
ONE!
TWO!!
KICKOUT!!!!
Frances is sitting up like a raised Mummy before Kris even realizes the he didn’t count to three.
The crowd erupts.
Sam looks annoyed, breathing heavily from exhaustion already. But then he smiles, and immediately punches Frances in the balls!
Again.
JC: Good lord.
JR: You know what? At least he's consistent.
Sam drags Frances up toward the ring.
Rolls him inside.
The crowd rises.
Because those ominous ropes are waiting, and Sam is gazing upon them like a child on Christmas morning.
They’ wrapped completely in barbed wire, and crackling with explosive charges.
Sam whips Frances.
Hard.
BUT FRANCES REVERSES!!!!
THE CROWD POPS!
ONLY FOR SAM TO REVERSE!
DROP TOE HOLD!!
Frances crashes face-first into the middle rope.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Sams’ eyes go wide, almost a hint of horror in his expression.
The explosion erupts in a shower of sparks. Barbed wire tears across Frances' forehead.
Blood instantly pours down his face.
The crowd explodes.
JC: JESUS CHRIST!
JR: Look at his face!
JC:H–H-HOW IS HE NOT DEAD!?
JR: I DON’T KNOW, HOW IS HE EVEN MOVING????
Frances wipes blood from his eyes.
Looks at his hand.
Looks at the crowd.
Smiles.
JC: Smiling? He’s smiling!
JR: He’s concussed, Jack!
The audience somehow gets louder, as they watch Frances stagger up to his feet.
The look of shock on Sam’s face quickly fades into rage.
Sam charges.
RUNNING KICK!
FRANCES DUCKS!
BULLDOG!
Sam bounces face-first off the mat.
Frances immediately follows with an elbow drop.
Then another, and another.
Then drags Sam up by the hair.
RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP!
COVER!
ONE!
TWO!
SAM KICKS OUT!
Frances doesn't pause.
He exits the ring, and begins thrashing under the apron again, throwing out folded tables and weapons galore, before returning to the ring carrying a trash can in one hand. And a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire in the other.
The crowd rises again.
Sam gets up.
WHAM!
Barbed wire bat across the ribs.
WHAM!
Across the back.
WHAM!
ACROSS THE FACE!!!!
JC: Jesus! That was as horrific as the explosion!
JR: FRANCES JUST BABE RUTH’ED DYSON IN THE FACE
JC: These men are going to be lucky to walk away from this match with only permanent damage.
Blood immediately appears above Sam's eye.
The champion tumbles through the ropes, snagging in the barbed wire, but falling out directly into the waiting arms of the Ubermensch.
The giant catches him.
Protects him.
AND FRANCES IMMEDIATLEY SUICIDE DIVES THROUGH THE ROPES!!
All three men crash into the barricade.
JR: THIS IS INSANE!
The crowd chants:
“HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!”
Naturally, The Ubermensch rises first.
But Frances gives zero fucks, and attacks him immediately.
Chair shot!
Chair shot!
Chair shot!
The fourth chair shot finally bends over the giant's skull.
The Ubermensch staggers.
Frances charges.
BIG BOOT FROM UBERMENSCH!
Frances flips completely inside out.
The crowd groans.
The giant grabs him, and lifts him over his head into a Military press before walking with the challenger, and throwing him into the ring post like a ragdoll.
Frances crashes shoulder-first.
The steel shakes.
Sam, even with his eye socket appearing to be caved in laughs. He reaches out a hand and The Ubermensch lifts him to his feet, then stomps backover to Frances, lifting the dead weight of the challenger with ease and rolls Frances back inside.
Sam, even with his eye socket appearing to be caved in, laughs.
He reaches out a hand and The Ubermensch lifts him to his feet, then stomps back over to Frances, lifting the dead weight of the challenger with ease and rolling Frances back inside.
JC: I think Frances may have separated that shoulder!
JR: He got launched like a lawn dart!
Frances tries to rise, but Sam immediately pounces.
A boot to the ribs.
Another.
Another.
The XTreme Champion mounts the challenger and begins throwing wild punches with both hands.
Frances covers up, so Sam leans forward and bites his forehead again.
Tearing at skin already shredded by the exploding wire.
The crowd groans.
Blood begins pouring down Frances' face once more.
JR: Jesus Christ! He's trying to eat him!
Sam jerks Frances upright by the hair.
Three nasty looking knee strikes in quick succession
Each one folding Frances over further.
Then a sloppy spike DDT
Cover!!!
ONE!
TWO!
Frances kicks out.
Sam immediately slaps the mat.
He drags Frances up again and bashes him with an awkward forearm.
BUT FRANCES ANSWERS WITH ONE OF HIS OWN!
The crowd cheers.
A second one from Frances now.
Bigger cheer.
A THIRD!!
The audience rises.
But Sam answers with a thumb directly into the eye.
Booing rains down from every side of the arena.
Frances stumbles backwards blindly.
Straight into The Ubermensch.
The giant wraps both arms around Frances from behind.
Bearhug.
The crowd gasps.
JC: Oh come on! This is essentially a handicap match!
Frances immediately starts hammering elbows into the side of the giant's skull.
One.
Two.
Three.
The giant barely notices.
Instead he squeezes harder, and harder.
Frances' face twists in agony.
The challenger throws his head backward.
Headbutt.
Another.
A third.
Finally forcing enough separation to break free.
The crowd erupts.
Frances spins - - - AND WALKS DIRECTLY INTO A RUNNING KNEE FROM SAMAEL!
The impact turns him completely around.
Sam laughs hysterically.
Hooks the waist.
Beal toss.
Frances gets launched halfway across the ring.
He lands hard and rolls into the corner.
Sam points.
The Ubermensch nods.
The giant marches forward.
Grabs Frances by one leg.
Then the other.
And begins dragging him toward the corner like a hunter dragging a deer carcass through the woods.
The crowd knows exactly what's coming.
Frances tries kicking free.
Tries clawing at the canvas.
It doesn't matter. The Ubermensch forcefully threads Frances' legs through the ropes.
Leaving him hanging upside down.
Tree of Woe.
Frances hangs helplessly.
Sam backs into the opposite corner.
Sprints.
BLACK MASTERPIECE!
Directly to the groin.
The crowd winces.
Sam backs up.
Again.
BLACK MASTERPIECE!
Again.
Again.
Again.
Kris physically grabs him.
JC: Kris has seen enough!
The crowd cheers.
Sam shoves him.
Kris shoves back.
The audience gets even louder.
Frances drops out of the Tree of Woe.
Immediately tackles Sam, sending both men tumble through the ropes.
And crash through a table at ringside.
And crash through a table at ringside. Wood explodes in every direction.
The crowd erupts.
For several moments neither man moves.
Splintered wood litters the floor.
The challenger suddenly sits upright amongst the wreckage.
Blood pouring from his forehead.
One eye nearly swollen shut.
A smile spreading across his face.
The audience explodes.
Frances grabs a broken table leg.
Sam sees it.
Immediately starts backing away on all fours.
Too late.
CRACK!
The table leg bashes across his ribs.
CRACK!
Across the back.
CRACK!
Across the shoulder.
Sam screams and scrambles away.
Frances stalks after him, like an exhausted predator.
Sam reaches the barricade pulling himself up, but Frances catches him, and drives his forehead directly into Sam's face with a headbutt.
Again.
Again!
AGAIN!!!
Blood sprays from both men now.
The audience counting along.
“FOUR!
FIVE!”
Sam finally rakes the eyes.
The crowd boos.
Frances stumbles.
Sam charges.
RUNNING CLOTHESLINE - - -
NO!
Frances ducks.
Hooks the waist.
BELLY TO BACK SUPLEX!!!!
Directly onto the floor.
Sam bounces violently off the concrete.
The champion writhes.
Frances grabs him by the ankle.
Drags him.
Not toward the ring, toward the crowd.
Frances throws Sam into the barricade.
Then throws him again.
Then again.
The third impact finally buckles the steel railing.
Fans spill backward.
Beer flies everywhere.
JC: These two have completely lost control!
JR: There was never control!
Sam desperately claws at Frances' face.
Frances answers with a right hand.
Then another.
Then another.
Each one sounding like a gunshot.
The challenger finally hooks Sam.
Attempts a DDT onto the exposed concrete.
Sam blocks.
Thumb to the eye.
Low blow.
The crowd boos furiously
Sam stumbles away laughing.
But Frances follows slowly.
Sam grabs a steel chair.
Swings.
Frances takes it directly across the skull.
The chair bends.
Frances remains standing.
Sam looks horrified.
Frances spits blood.
Then punches Sam directly in the mouth.
The champion collapses.
JR: WHAT THE HELL IS THIS GUY MADE OF?!
Frances looks around.
Surveying the wreckage.
The broken tables.
The blood.
The weapons scattered everywhere.
Then his eyes settle on something.
A spool.
Coiled and waiting.
Barbed wire.
A slow grin spreads across his battered face.
Frances emerges with a spool of barbed wire.
The crowd realizes where this is heading.
Sam realizes too.
Frances wraps the wire around his fist.
Then punches Sam repeatedly.
Blood flying with every strike.
Sam answers by driving a thumb into Frances' eye again.
Then another.
Then a bite.
Then - - -
Bouquet of Roses.
Sam jams two fingers down his throat.
The audience groans.
And projectile vomits directly into Frances' face.
JR: OH COME ON!
JC: THAT'S DISGUSTING!
Frances stumbles blindly.
Sam capitalizes.
Running knee.
DDT onto a steel chair.
Cover.
ONE!
TWO!!
FRANCES KICKS OUT!!!
The crowd roars.
Sam looks genuinely irritated now.
For the first time all night.
He drags Frances toward the ropes and back into the ring.
Sam hooks him.
Attempts a suplex.
Frances blocks.
Headbutt.
Another.
Another.
Both men are bleeding heavily.
Frances finally wins the exchange.
Vertical suplex.
Directly onto the trash can from earlier!
The ring shakes.
Both men stay down.
Kris begins counting.
The crowd rises.
Then - - -
The Ubermensch climbs onto the apron.
Kris immediately intercepts him.
The giant shoves Kris.
Kris shoves back.
The audience erupts.
JC: Kris has had enough of this monster!
Forearm.
Forearm.
Forearm.
Kris unloads.
The crowd goes nuclear.
Superkick.
The giant actually rocks backward.
Chair shot.
The giant barely moves.
Another chair shot.
Nothing.
The Ubermensch grabs Kris.
Lifts him overhead.
Military press.
AND LAUNCHES HIM OUT OF THE RING THROUGH A TABLE!
The crowd gasps.
Kris lands in a heap.
Motionless.
JR: OH MY GOD!
Back inside.
Frances sees it.
And loses his mind.
He charges the giant.
Chair shot.
Chair shot.
Chair shot.
The giant finally tumbles from the apron.
The crowd explodes.
Frances turns.
Sam is waiting.
FLAMING THUMPER!
NO!
Frances ducks.
Kick to the gut.
NO CUSHION PILEDRIVER!
The arena explodes.
Sam lands directly on his head.
JC: Wait - - WHY IS HE NOT COVERING HIM RIGHT NOW?!
Frances lifts Sam again…. And moves him overtop of a mangled steel chair.
SECOND NO CUSHION PILEDRIVER!!!!!
DIRECTLY ON THE CHAIR!
SAM DYSON MIGHT BE DEAD!!!!
FRANCES COLLAPSES ON TOP
Kris crawls back into the ring.
ONE!
TWO!!!!
THREEEEEEEE - - - -
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
THE UBERMENSCH DRAGS SAM OUT OF THE RING BY THE LEG!
The crowd rains hatred.
Frances can barely stand.
Sam cannot stand at all.
Both men are destroyed.
Frances exits the ring.
And charges Ubermensch.
Chair shot.
Ubermensch eats it.
Another.
Another.
Each chair shot losing speed and power.
Another.
Finally the giant grabs him.
CHOKETHROW INTO THE ROPES!
THROUGH THE EXPLODING BARDED WIRE!
Fire. Sparks. Wire. Blood. Everything erupts. Frances disappears beneath the wreckage as the entire rope infrastructure on that side of the ring collapses in..
The audience loses its mind.
Ubermensch helps his master back into the ring. Sam twitches into a crawling position, but collapses again. Still partially unconscious… but dragging his way toward Frances.
Kris sees it, shakes his head, refusing to take part in what happens next - - -
BUT THE UBERMENSCH SLAPS HIS MASSIVE HAND AROUND KRIS’ THROAT AND SQUEEZES.
The arena falls silent.
Kris looks at Frances.
Looks at Sam.
Looks at the giant.
Then reluctantly slides into position.
With his final ounce of energy, Sam drapes an arm over Frances, passing completely out in the process…
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WINNER: AND STILL XTREME CHAMPION SAMAEL DYSON
DING DING DING.
JR: Samael Dyson retains!
JC: It took a monster, a giant, exploding barbed wire, cheating, interference, and damn near murder... but he retains.
Sam can barely stand.
Frances can't stand at all.
The Ubermensch lifts the XTreme Championship up, and then hoists Sam Dyson over his shoulder. The two exit the ring.
Frances Marigold lies on his back, completely destroyed, and yet he starts laughing.
Leap of Faith Match - 24/7 Briefcase
The Winner of Over-the-Top-Rope Battle Royal
- vs -
XXXVI
- vs -
Isaiah King
- vs -
Betsy Granger
- vs -
Korvayne
- vs -
Charlie Nickles
- vs -
Game Girl
- vs -
Dickie Watson
- vs -
Rowan Vance
The bell hit and the ring became a black hole of X-TREME!'
There was no posturing, no staredowns. All nine people exploded off the ropes and into each other like they’d been salivating over this match for weeks..
The sound of the first collision drew a reaction before anyone could even process what they'd seen.
Isaiah King did not look at anyone except Betsy Granger. He found her immediately, the way you find someone you already know is going to be important. They moved toward each other through the chaos with the kind of quiet deliberateness that told you everything about how long they'd been doing this together. They just started working, falling into rhythm just like they did last Warfare.
JC: The Exiles have found each other! They’re already getting to work clearing the field!
On the other side of it all, Game Girl and Dickie Watson were writing their own story.
Dickie opened up on XXXVI with a series of forearms that backed him into the corner, each one snapping XXXVI's head to the side a little further than the last. Game Girl read the spacing without being told, cut left, hit the ropes, and came back with a dropkick that caught XXXVI flush and sent him stumbling the length of the ring!
JR: But The Exiles aren’t the only ones with friends in this match! House of Hardocre came to play, too! And they’ll leave it all on the line for that coveted briefcase!
Rowan Vance tried to sneak up on Dickie from behind and that was a mistake. Dickie turned Rowan inside out with a back elbow that caught Rowan clean across the jaw and sat them down hard. Rowan hit the mat and blinked like they were trying to remember what day it was.
Meanwhile Korvayne had already gone after Charlie Nickles.
Not attacked. Gone after! There's a difference. Korvayne moved toward him with the body language of a woman who had been waiting all week for this specific moment and had no interest in being patient. Charlie didn't run. He didn't back up. He held his ground and looked at Korvayne like he'd been waiting, too.
JC: And the only Bastard in this ring has more enemies than he can count! But Korvayne is taking the first bite of that bastardly apple!
JR: But that’s only because he can’t count very high, Jacquinde!
Whatever was between them was going to take some time to finish.
And then Latoya Hixx happened!
She came out of nowhere and hit Betsy Granger with a running forearm that knocked Betsy sideways into the ropes before anyone could blink. The crowd popped before they even understood what they'd seen. Game Girl tried to step in her path and got a kick to the side of the skull for the trouble. Game Girl dropped to one knee. Latoya didn't even look back at her.
XXXVI, still shaking off the earlier dropkick, decided he was going to be the one to handle this situation. He charged.
Latoya ducked underneath him, turned, and cracked him in the lower back with a spinning back kick that straightened him up like someone had yanked him by the spine. The crowd came alive!
JC: THE STORM HAS FINALLY ARRIVED! Latoya Hixx is laying out everyone in the ring! And this crowd loves it!
JR: She already won one battle royale tonight, does she have what it takes to win another?!
She bounced off the ropes again.
Rowan stepped into her lane and she hit Rowan with a crossbody that shouldn't have worked but somehow did. Rowan staggered back into the corner, arms pinwheeling. Latoya was up before Rowan could process what just happened and hit them with a forearm that rattled the ropes.
Then she turned and there was Isaiah King.
JR: Uh oh….now THE STORM is coming face to face with ISAIAH KING!
He caught her mid-step with a shoulder block that finally took some of the wind out of her sails. Not a clean stop — she came right back and drove a kick into his chest that made the whole building wince. King took it. Measured her. She tried it again and he caught the leg this time.
The crowd popped as King smirked!
Latoya twisted her hips and wrenched free before he could do anything with it, then came up with an enzuigiri that snapped King's head sideways hard enough that you could hear the impact from three rows back. Isaiah King, who takes shots the way a wall takes shots, actually staggered. He put a hand out toward the ropes and caught himself.
Betsy moved in immediately. Not to attack Latoya — to stabilize King, to give him a second, to make sure the Exiles didn't lose their footing over one big kick. She shoved Latoya back toward center ring and planted herself between them, buying King the five seconds he needed to reset.
Across the ring Dickie and Game Girl were still operating in that weird wordless sync. Dickie rattled Rowan with a forearm and stepped aside at exactly the right moment for Game Girl to come in with a running strike. Rowan went down. Dickie looked at her. She gave him one nod. That was the whole conversation. They dragged Rowan toward the ropes and hit them with a double forearm that sent Rowan spilling through them to the apron, where Rowan grabbed the middle rope and hung there, trying to figure out which way was up.
JC: House of Hardcore has Rowan Vance on the ropes!
JR: It’s 2-on-1 right now, Joe! Rowan needs some help- but they forgot to bring a teammate to the match!
XXXVI came in swinging at Dickie. Dickie met him with a European uppercut that stopped his momentum cold, then grabbed him by the head and fired off a short DDT that put him on the mat. Game Girl added a senton before he could move.
Latoya was back.
She always came back.
She crossed the ring at full sprint and launched herself at XXXVI with a flying forearm that knocked him completely flat, then spun and caught Betsy Granger with a spinning heel kick on the turn that dropped Betsy to one knee. The crowd was tracking her now, watching her like she was the ball in a pinball machine, never quite knowing where she was going to go next.
She went for Rowan.
Rowan recovered enough to see her coming and managed to duck the first thing she threw. She turned around and XXXVI was back up, which was impressive after what she'd just done to him, and he caught her with a clothesline that flipped her completely over. Latoya landed awkward. The crowd made a pained sound. She tried to get up and Rowan was already there.
Rowan and XXXVI grabbed her at the same time. Isaiah King saw it and started moving. Game Girl cut him off at the knees with a dropkick that sent him through the middle rope and out to the floor!
He hit the floor hard- and stayed down.
JR: OH MY GOD! ISAIAH KING JUST WENT THROUGH THE ROPES! HE’S BEEN ELIMINATED!
JC: Not so fast, Joe! This is an over-the-top battle royale: and Isaiah King went out through the middle! He’s still in this thing!
JR: Huh. Well that’s sure anti-climactic…
JC: But it’s also VERY fortunate for The Exiles!
Inside, Betsy came in and it was four people on Latoya Hixx.
She fought anyway.
Of course she fought. She broke one grip. Twisted away from another. Got an elbow into XXXVI's face that made him back off for a second. But there were too many of them and not enough of her and eventually the numbers are the numbers. Rowan and XXXVI worked her toward the ropes. She grabbed the top rope. Betsy pried at her fingers.
Latoya went over the top rope and caught the middle rope on the way down, one hand first, then two, hanging there with her feet inches off the floor and the referee crouched down watching her grip.
JC: After her hot start, Latoya Hixx is now on the outside of the ring looking in! She’s in precarious position here!
King started moving outside.
Latoya pulled. Started dragging herself back up. The crowd was loud for it.
Game Girl read what was happening before anyone else did. She crossed the ring and hit King with a dropkick through the ropes at the exact moment he was climbing back up to the apron. He went off the apron and hit the floor again, harder this time.
That broke Latoya's grip on the ropes.
She landed on the floor, after going over the top rope.
LATOYA HIXX HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!
JC: "LATOYA HIXX IS GONE!"
JR: "They had to throw four people at her to get it done and they still almost didn't manage it. That woman ran through this match like she was angry at every single person in the building."
Latoya sat outside with her hands on her knees, staring back into the ring like she was daring the result to be different. It wasn't.
Isaiah King just laughed at her before sliding back into the ring under the bottom rope.
And inside the ring, nobody was slowing down.
Rowan Vance tried to take a breath and got hit from two directions. Dickie Watson found Rowan first — grabbed them by the arm and whipped them into the ropes, then caught them on the way back with a knee to the midsection that doubled Rowan over. Game Girl came in behind and threw Rowan over the top rope! The crowd popped as Rowan hit the floor outside the ring!
ROWAN VANCE HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!
On the other side, Betsy and Isaiah were back in sync. King lifted XXXVI with a vertical suplex that held him up there for a four-count before dropping him, showing off the kind of strength that makes the crowd go quiet for a second. Betsy added a knee drop. XXXVI tried to roll away and King just stepped on him.
Charlie Nickles and Korvayne were still somewhere in the background of all this and they had their own war running on a completely separate track from everything else happening.
Charlie had backed Korvayne into the corner a couple of times and she'd fought her way out of it both times. Now she was out in the open and they were just standing in the middle of the ring throwing at each other, no setup, no tricks, just two people who had decided that this was the conversation they were going to have. Charlie threw a right hand. Korvayne answered with a forearm. Charlie grabbed her by the back of the head and sent her into the ropes. She came back and caught him with a knee to the sternum that made him stumble. He grabbed her on the way past anyway. She spun out of it. He grabbed her again.
JC: Korvayne hasn’t even laid eyes on anyone except Charlie! I don’t even think she cares about the briefcase: I think she just cares about sending that Bastard a message!
JR: Well he’s receiving the message, and he’s firing back with retorts of his own!
The rest of the match kept happening around them but those two had created a gravity well that people kept almost falling into before pulling away.
Charlie finally got real control. He drove Korvayne into the corner with a series of body shots — measured ones, not wild swings, the kind that build up over time — and she sagged against the turnbuckle in a way that made her look human for the first time all night. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the corner. Set up near the ropes. Looked out at the crowd.
The crowd started to rise.
Charlie charged.
Korvayne moved.
But she didn't move away. She moved toward him. She sprinted directly at him like she'd decided in that half-second that she was fine with both of them going out as long as they went out together. They collided right at the ropes — his momentum carrying him forward, hers adding to it — and neither one had anything left to grab onto.
They both went over!
They hit the floor as one.
The place detonated.
CHARLIE NICKLES AND KORVAYNE HAVE BEEN ELIMINATED!
JC: OH MY GOD THEY ARE BOTH OUT! DOUBLE ELIMINATION!
JR: Korvayne stopped caring about the match. She just decided if she was going to go she was going to take Charlie Nickles with her. And she got it done! Mission accomplished!
Charlie sat up immediately and looked like he wanted to flip a table over. Korvayne was laughing. Just sitting there on the floor, laughing.
But just because they were eliminated, didn’t mean they stopped fighting.
Charlie charged at her with a knee outside the ring, but Korvayne slipped away from it before taking Charlie’s legs out from beneath him. Korvayne and Charlie continued brawling all the way up the ramp, towards the stage, whilst everyone in the ring continued trying to throw folks over the top rope.
JC: Charlie and Korvayne don’t care that they’ve been eliminated! They’re still going at it!
Once Charlie and Korvayne reached the top of the ramp, Charlie fired off at her with a big right hand, but Korvayne ducked! Then, she replied with a punch to Charlie’s liver that caused him to keel over and spit up blood.
That’s when Korvayne sensed her opportunity.
She grabbed Charlie into a front facelock-
BEFORE DRIVING HIM STRAIGHT TO THE GROUND WITH A MARS-SHATTERING DDT!
JC: Malibu’s Most Wanted! Malibu’s Most Wanted! Korvayne just finished the conversation!
JR: That’s one way to send a damn message!
Korvayne stood up, smirking at the lifeless body of The Nickleman before walking back through the curtain, her mission finally complete.
Back in the ring, XXXVI had found something of a second wind and was not being subtle about it. He threw Dickie Watson into the corner with a big Irish whip that shook the ring and followed in hard with a corner splash. Dickie dropped to his knees. XXXVI pulled him up by the hair and sent him across the ring the other direction with the same whip into the same splash.
He turned to Game Girl next. She tried to get out of his way and he caught her anyway, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her down to the mat with a tilt-a-whirl slam that got a big reaction even from the people who weren't cheering for him. Game Girl laid flat on the mat, with cartoonish stars appearing above her head.
Then XXXVI charged Betsy Granger.
Betsy had been in this match long enough to trust her instincts. She sidestepped at the last possible second, so close that XXXVI's arm grazed her shoulder on the way past, and let his own momentum carry him toward the ropes. He caught himself on the top rope and spun around.
But Isaiah King was already moving.
He came in from the side with a running clothesline that caught XXXVI clean and sent him over the top rope backward. XXXVI threw a hand out and grabbed the rope. His feet dangled. His grip slipped.
He hit the floor!
XXXVI HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!
JC: "XXXVI IS GONE!"
JR: "Timed perfectly. King waited for exactly the right moment and executed."
Five became four.
JC: And now, we are set for our final showdown! Exiles vs House of Hardcore!
JR: But Dickie Watson’s going to have to stand on his two feet right now, because Game Girl is still seeing stars from XXXVI’s tilt-a-whirl!
And Dickie Watson started to become a problem.
He didn't do it with one big move. He did it by refusing to die. Betsy hit him with a DDT and he was back up in thirty seconds. Isaiah came in with a running knee and Dickie rolled with it and came up throwing.
Betsy and Isaiah looked at each other.
Dickie Watson looked at both of them and invited them to come on.
So they did.
What followed was genuinely one of those sequences where you can see a match turning into something. Dickie fought the Exiles for two full minutes and took everything they had and kept giving it back. He hit Betsy with a European uppercut that spun her halfway around. Turned and ducked under a King clothesline, grabbed King's arm on the way past and turned it into an armbar takedown. Betsy came back with a forearm and he absorbed it and fired one back that stopped her cold.
The crowd started reacting to him differently. Not to an alliance or a faction or a plan. Just to a man who refused to quit.
He hit Isaiah King with a running knee that put King down on one knee and the crowd made a noise they hadn't made yet. He turned to deal with Betsy next and she was already there, catching him with a neckbreaker that finally sat him down.
JR: The Exiles finally caught Dickie Watson lacking! He’d been running roughshod over them, but it looks like the momentum might be changing!
JC: Don’t jinx it, Joe! Everyone knows Dickie Watson is one of the best wrestlers not just on Earth, not just on Mars: but in the entire Universe!
JR: Huh…I guess that’s why he’s a former Universal Champion!
King recovered. They regrouped. They did not need to discuss what came next.
They both moved toward Dickie Watson.
He got up in time to see them coming and went right at them anyway. He threw a forearm at King and managed to get in two more before Betsy grabbed him from behind. He drove his elbow back into her ribs to break the grip. Spun. Caught King with a headbutt. Nearly broke free.
Betsy let him turn.
That was the key. She let him turn his attention to King, waited until his back was to her, then came in low and shoved him hard toward the ropes. His own momentum and her push combined and he hit the ropes at enough speed that when he tried to hook them he couldn't hold on.
He went over- but grabbed the rope!
JC: They almost got Dickie Watson! His quick thinking is keeping alive!
JR: Don’t be so hasty, Jacquinde! Dickie’s clinging to that rope for dear life: he’s still vulnerable!
Game Girl moved toward the ropes to help him and Isaiah stepped right in front of her and started throwing. She tried to get around him. He moved with her. Buying time. Doing his job.
Betsy kept pushing.
Dickie's grip finally gave!
He hit the floor!
DICKIE WATSON HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!
JR: Dickie Watson is outta there! Now, Game Girl is alone against two Exiles!
JC: They needed two people and they still needed all of those two people to get it done. Dickie Watson was a nightmare in there!
Game Girl watched Dickie hit the floor. She stood in the ring with her hands at her sides and looked at Betsy Granger and Isaiah King across from her.
Two against one.
She stepped forward.
She went after Betsy first because Betsy was the one who just pushed Dickie out and if you're going to go out you might as well go out doing something about it. She caught Betsy with a running forearm that backed her into the ropes. Betsy grabbed the top rope to keep herself in and Game Girl grabbed her arm and went to work on it, trying to pry her loose.
Isaiah came in.
Game Girl let go of Betsy's arm, ducked under Isaiah's charge, and hit him with a tilt-a-whirl head scissors that sent him stumbling into the corner. The crowd popped. She turned back to Betsy. Betsy swung and Game Girl ducked it and got behind her, waistlock, lifted, looking for a back suplex.
Betsy blocked it with her hips. Drove an elbow back. Game Girl absorbed it and held on. Betsy drove another one and Game Girl finally let go. Betsy turned around.
Game Girl caught her with a superkick out of nowhere that cracked her clean!
The place erupted!
JC: Game Girl is holding her own against Betsy and Isaiah!
JR: She’s not just holding her own: she’s kicking their ass!
Betsy hit the ropes and held on. Game Girl moved in immediately. Isaiah came off the corner. Game Girl grabbed Betsy, turned, planted a foot, and shoved her into Isaiah's path. Isaiah had to stop short to avoid running into his own partner. Betsy stumbled. Game Girl shoved Betsy again, harder, toward the ropes.
Betsy's feet left the mat.
She grabbed the top rope on the way over. Both hands. Hung there, ankles over the floor, kicking like she was going to will herself back into the ring.
Isaiah grabbed her hand to pull her back in.
Game Girl grabbed the same arm and yanked.
Betsy's grip slipped.
She dropped to the floor!
BETSY GRANGER HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!
JR: One on one. Game Girl and Isaiah King. This is how it ends!
Isaiah walked toward center ring. No rush. He'd been in long matches before.
Game Girl walked toward him.
They met in the middle and it was immediate.
Isaiah threw first. She slipped it and hit him with a chop that rang through the building. He grabbed her arm on the second chop and reversed her into the ropes. She came back and slid under his clothesline, sprang off the opposite ropes, came back with a dropkick that caught him square in the chest and sent him stumbling backward into the ropes. He hit them hard enough that the momentum bounced him forward and Game Girl was ready with a forearm that snapped his head back.
He grabbed her.
She slipped free.
He grabbed her again and this time he got her, hoisted her up for a suplex, but she twisted in the air and landed on her feet behind him. He turned around into a roundhouse kick that should have put him down and he just ate it and grabbed her by the collar.
He headbutted her.
The crowd made a sound.
She headbutted him back.
The crowd made a bigger sound.
He looked at her like he was reconsidering something. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and looked back at him.
He threw a right hand. She ducked. She hit the ropes, came back, leapt, and caught him with a hurricanrana that finally took him off his feet and sent him tumbling toward the ropes. He went over the top rope and landed on the apron. Game Girl was at the ropes before he could get settled, throwing forearms down at him, trying to finish it.
He absorbed the forearms. He grabbed the top rope. He stood up on the apron and caught her forearm mid-swing.
They were face to face across the rope now. Neither letting go.
He got the better of the struggle and dragged her toward the ropes. She went up onto the top rope, teetering, fought him off with a kick. He staggered back on the apron. She steadied herself on the top rope, looked down at him, and hit a moonsault off the top rope to the apron that wiped them both out.
They hit the apron together.
Both crashed down.
Both hung there.
The referee watched. Both of them scrambling. Both of them trying to get back in before the other one found a way to use this.
Game Girl was up first. She got back in through the ropes. Grabbed Isaiah's arm and tried to drag him over. He fought her.
Got one knee on the top rope. She yanked.
He turned it around and grabbed her waistband and she was suddenly the one being yanked. She grabbed the rope. He pulled harder. She held on.
He lifted.
She fought.
Her grip broke.
She fell!
The bell rang.
WINNER OF THE 24/7 BRIEFCASE - ISAIAH KING
JC: ISAIAH KING! ISAIAH KING HAS WON THE BRIEFCASE!
JR: He has been in this thing the whole time. He took shots from Latoya Hixx, he fought Dickie Watson, he survived Game Girl going shot for shot with him at the end — and here he stands. The sole survivor.
Isaiah stood alone in the ring.
He didn't go to the corner and pose. He didn't pump his fists. He stood in the middle and breathed and looked at where everyone else had gone. The floor. The aisle. Gone.
He was still there.
The referee raised his hand and presented him the briefcase.
And everyone in the crowd rose to their feet, celebrating Isaiah with a standing ovation as he raised the briefcase above his head!
JC: Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for our main event of the evening. Three Stages of Hell for the XWF Universal Championship. The champion, Scoops McGee, defends against Sebastian Everett-Bryce. Joe, I don't think either of these men are walking out of here the same.
JR: Jacuinde, Scoops McGee has been doing this since before Sebastian Everett-Bryce was in school. He has bled in every building that matters on two continents. He has never held a world title. Tonight he is the champion and tonight a man who may be the best in the business is coming for everything he has. I genuinely do not know how this ends.
JC: Three Stages of Hell. Let's go.
The lights in the arena dip to black in time with the sirens and beat to the opening of Sweatpants (BattleTapes Remix) by Childish Gambino, the lights then beginning to flash, alternating left and right onto the ramp. In time, the letters "S", "E", "B", and then "Empire" flash one at a time on the big screen until the lights stop flashing as the lyrics hit.
"She askin' “Why you say that?!”
The beat drops and the lights flash on the rampway again. As they do, the screen illuminates with "SEB" and then "EMPIRE" flashing on the sceen.
"Rich kid asshole, paint me as a villain"
Sebastian Everett-Bryce flings his arms wide, staring up with his head covered by the hood of his jacket. He stands in the middle of the ramp, the lights beating down on him, before looking out at the crowd. He wears a long jacket with the hood pulled up over his head, zipped to the waist. The jacket, which is cut away at the bottom and only runs down the back of his legs, is patterned with an elongated Union Flag, but it’s in black and white and appears to be cracked and broken. His tights are short, with the initials SEB emblazoned upon the front.
The lights lift, and SEB makes his way to the ring, stretching his neck from side to side as he walks, his eyes focused on the ring. He climbs up the steps and steps through the ropes before standing in the middle of the ring.
"I'm winnin', yeah, yeah, I'm winnin' (What?)
Rich kid, asshole, paint me as a villain"
He extends his arms once more before pulling back his hood and removing his jacket to reveal the back of his tights which read “S.E.B”
"Don't be mad cause I'm doing me better than you doing you
Better than you doing you, fuck it, what you gon' do? (What?!)"
He flashes his arms out to a side, a satisfied and somewhat sneery grin upon his face, he holds the position for a moment, to allow the crowd to take pictures, before moving towards his corner.
The show is quickly interrupted by the sound of a distant synthesizer, followed up by horses neighing and galloping through the dirt. It fades out, leading into the riff of a guitar strumming a fiery tune. There's an inherent electricity building within the air of the arena, culminating as the drums kick in. As they do, the steadfast figure of Scoops McGee comes out from the back, a look of no nonsense etched onto his face as he takes a long look at the crowd and the squared circle.
He nods, steadily walking to the ring and absentmindedly high-fiving any fans stretching out their hands who happen to be right in his way. He makes his way over to ringside, climbing up the steps methodically and stepping onto the ring apron. He saunters about halfway across the apron, taking one last long look at the crowd as they give their reception to the seasoned vet. Scoops stretches his arms out wide, accepting everything they've got to give before stepping into the ring.
Scoops skulks over to his corner, pacing there and doing some small stretches to keep himself warmed up before the match begins.
DING! DING! DING!
Stage One.
Pure Wrestling Rules.
SEB doesn't wait. He crosses the ring at pace and catches Scoops with a roundhouse kick to the thigh before the old man can establish his footing, following immediately with a second to the ribs. Scoops eats both and fires back with a forearm that SEB slips under, catching the arm on the way through and snapping Scoops into a side suplex that rattles the champion on the canvas. SEB is back up before Scoops has stopped bouncing, measuring him and delivering a sharp running knee to the side of the head as Scoops tries to rise.
JC: SEB out of the blocks immediately, not giving the champion a single second to breathe.
SEB drags Scoops up and hits the first suplex of the evening, a crisp vertical that he holds at the top for a count of three before dropping him down. He rolls through, hauls Scoops back up, and hits a second. He rolls through again. Scoops reaches for the ropes on the third attempt and SEB adjusts mid-motion, transitioning into a snap suplex instead, flowing through the movement so naturally it barely registers as an adaptation. Cover. One. Two. Scoops powers the shoulder up.
JR: He is smooth, Jacuinde. Everything connects to the next thing. There are no gaps.
SEB keeps the pressure on, targeting Scoops' left leg with a series of kicks that snap against the knee and thigh. He forces Scoops into the corner and unloads with body kicks, each one landing with a sound that carries across the arena. Scoops grabs him on the fifth kick and shoves him back hard across the ring, and when SEB charges back in Scoops meets him with the left forearm. The stiff left forearm, the one that has been knocking men loopy for four decades. It stops SEB mid-stride like he's walked into a wall.
JC: THAT LEFT FOREARM! And SEB is rocked!
Scoops seizes on it immediately. He grabs SEB before the younger man can recover and fires a second forearm, then transitions into a scoop slam that plants SEB in the center of the ring. He follows with a running elbow drop and covers. One. Two. SEB kicks out cleanly. Scoops pulls him up and hits a neckbreaker, then another scoop slam, methodical and unhurried, the kind of offense a man accumulates over forty years in the business. He climbs to the second rope, which takes him longer than it once did, and drops a double axe handle across SEB's chest.
JR: McGee is experienced enough to know when he has an opening and he is not wasting a single second of it.
Scoops locks in a Boston crab, sitting down fully, and SEB grimaces toward the ropes. He is closer than Scoops anticipated and gets there inside of ten seconds. Scoops releases and goes immediately to a sleeper hold on the seated challenger.
SEB fights it standing, using the ropes to create space and forcing Scoops to break at four. Scoops steps back in and SEB drops underneath a clothesline attempt, spinning and hitting a DDT that spikes Scoops headfirst into the mat, immediately kipping up to his feet in one clean motion, the crowd responding to the athleticism of it.
JC: DDT, kip-up! SEB is back in control!
Now SEB goes to work on the leg. He drops a knee across Scoops' left calf, then wrenches the leg into a shinbreaker across his own thigh. He does it again. He pulls Scoops to the center of the ring and locks in the Kings Road!
Driving his knee into the back of Scoops' leg and wrenching back. Scoops roars. He is not a quiet sufferer. He drags himself forward with his arms, fighting with every ounce of the stubbornness that kept him in this industry well past the point any sensible person would have retired, and he gets to the ropes. The hold breaks.
SEB steps back, rolls his neck, and sets. Scoops pulls himself to standing using the ropes and turns around directly into the Emperor Kick, the running one-legged dropkick that catches him square in the chest and sends him through the ropes to the floor. SEB takes two steps back, charges, and flies through the ropes with a suicide dive that wipes Scoops clean out on the floor. The crowd is on its feet.
JR: SUICIDE DIVE! SEB just threw himself out of the ring at sixty miles an hour and Scoops is down on the floor!
SEB rolls Scoops back in and lines up the Conquest sequence. German suplex, roll through, Scoops staggers to his feet, release turnbuckle German suplex that drives the back of Scoops' head into the top turnbuckle pad, and then SEB charges from the opposite corner with the standing moonsault kick. Scoops sags in the corner. SEB measures him. Empire Kick. The running one-legged dropkick drives Scoops' head back into the buckle a second time and the champion crumples to the mat.
Cover!
One.
Two.
THREE.
JC: SEB WINS THE FIRST FALL! STAGE ONE GOES TO SEBASTIAN EVERETT-BRYCE!
JR: The challenger takes the first stage and now we have a two minute rest period before Stage Two. X-Treme Rules. And Jacuinde, you know what that means for a man like Scoops McGee.
JC: It means barbed wire, Joe. It means blood. It means Scoops McGee in the environment he has lived his entire life in.
The two minute rest period passes. Scoops has been helped to the corner, where he sits on the middle turnbuckle breathing hard. He is sixty-four years old and he has just been thrown into a turnbuckle at speed and taken an Empire Kick to the face. He does not look like a man who should continue. He rolls his neck twice, spits, and drops off the turnbuckle to his feet. There is no barbed wire yet. That comes from Scoops' own corner, where a coil of it sits waiting. Scoops picks it up with his bare hands, which tells you everything you need to know about the man.
The bell rings.
Stage Two.
X-Treme Rules.
SEB has a chair. He collected it from ringside during the rest period, folded and ready, and he swings it the moment the bell sounds.
Scoops catches it on the barbed wire, the wire wrapping around the chair and tangling, and the two of them engage in a brief and ugly tug of war before Scoops rips both out of SEB's hands and hurls them to the floor. He charges with the left forearm and SEB ducks it, shoving Scoops into the ropes and catching him on the rebound with a spinebuster that shakes the ring.
SEB recovers the chair and drives it edge first into Scoops' ribs. Once. Twice. Three times, each shot more deliberate than the last. He drops the chair flat and hits a snap suplex that drives Scoops' back across the steel with a sound that the front row will hear in their sleep. Cover. One. Two. Scoops kicks out.
JR: The back across the chair and Scoops kicks out at two. Of course he does.
SEB goes to the floor and collects the barbed wire from where Scoops discarded it. He brings it back into the ring and begins to uncoil it with purpose. Scoops is back to his feet, blood beginning to run above his left eye from the chair shot, and he measures SEB across the ring.
When SEB turns, Scoops hits the Cattle Prod, the short-arm left forearm that catches SEB across the jaw and sends him spinning. Scoops follows with a lariat that turns SEB inside out and drops him hard. He covers. One. Two. SEB gets the shoulder up.
JC: McGee with the lariat! He is not going quietly! He is not going quietly at all!
Scoops picks up the barbed wire. He winds a length of it around his left forearm, securing it with the grim efficiency of a man who has done this before and suffered accordingly. SEB is back up and Scoops drives the barbed wire forearm across his face. SEB staggers backward, a thin line of red appearing across his cheek. Scoops does it again. SEB falls into the ropes.
Scoops winds up for a third and SEB collapses to the canvas, rolling out to the floor to create space, pressing his hand to his face and looking at the blood on his fingers with an expression that is not fear. It is something closer to recalibration.
JR: SEB is bleeding and he is thinking. That is not a man who panics. He is working out what comes next.
What comes next is SEB pulling a table from beneath the ring, which pops the crowd enormously. He slides it in, sets it up in the corner, and gets back in after it. Scoops charges immediately with a DDT attempt and SEB blocks it, lifting Scoops and driving him spine-first into the set up table in the corner.
The table doesn't break!
SEB steps back and hits the Emperor Kick, driving Scoops into it a second time. The table still doesn't break. SEB stares at it. He grabs Scoops, hauls him up onto the second rope, hooks him for a suplex, and drives him off the second rope through the table, which finally and catastrophically gives way.
JC: THROUGH THE TABLE! OFF THE SECOND ROPE AND THROUGH THE TABLE IN THE CORNER!
Seb rushes for the pin!
One.
Two.
Scoops kicks out!
JR: HE KICKED OUT! After going through a table from the second rope, Scoops McGee kicks out at two!
SEB sits on his knees for a moment, hands on his thighs, looking at Scoops in the wreckage of the table.
He stands up, collects the barbed wire from where it has settled on the canvas, and begins wrapping it methodically around Scoops' head. Not the face, but the crown. A makeshift halo of wire pressed against the scalp. Scoops, barely conscious, begins to bleed from three separate points across the top of his head where the wire bites in.
JC: Oh my God. He's putting the barbed wire on his head.
JR: This is Sebastian Everett-Bryce being absolutely ruthless. He is ending this in Stage Two.
SEB picks Scoops up carefully, deliberately, and charges with the Empire Kick. The impact drives Scoops backward into the ropes, the barbed wire shifting, and Scoops comes off the ropes and stumbles forward. He stays up. Blood is running freely now, sheeting down the old man's face, collecting in his beard, dripping onto the canvas in heavy drops. Scoops raises his hands. He is not done.
SEB hits him with the Empire Kick again. The second one drops Scoops to one knee. The crowd has gone quiet with the weight of what they are watching. Scoops plants a foot. He pushes himself back up with both hands. He raises his hands again.
JR: Jacuinde, I've been in combat sports my whole life. What Scoops McGee is doing right now is one of the most extraordinary things I have seen from a human being. He is running on nothing.
JC: He has waited forty years for this. He is not giving it up.
SEB steps back. He measures Scoops from across the ring. He charges with the third Empire Kick and Scoops catches his leg. He catches it on pure instinct, the body doing what forty years of muscle memory demands even when the mind is barely present. He holds SEB's leg for one long, extraordinary second, and the crowd rises in anticipation of something miraculous.
Scoops' legs go out beneath him.
He drops to the canvas still holding SEB's leg, rolls through on the last of his momentum, and locks in the Merry-Go-Round, the Spinning Toe Hold, from the canvas. SEB reaches for the ropes. Under normal rules he'd be there in seconds. But these are X-Treme Rules and the ropes mean nothing. SEB grabs the barbed wire instead, driving it into Scoops' hands until the old man's grip loosens, and pulls free. He stands over Scoops, bleeding, his chest heaving.
JC: SEB escaping the Merry-Go-Round! And both men are in bad shape here!
SEB brings Scoops up one final time. He hooks him into the Stamford Bridge, the modified Tiger suplex with the bridge pin, launching Scoops across the ring with enough force to roll him nearly to the ropes. The barbed wire, still loosely coiled around the ring, catches Scoops as he rolls and drags across his arm. He comes to rest face down on the canvas. He is bleeding from his head, from both forearms, from a cut across his cheekbone that opened at some point in the last five minutes.
SEB stands in the center of the ring. He is bleeding from the cheek. His ribs are marked from the barbed wire forearm. His left leg is red from where he has been delivering Empire Kicks against the barbed wire coil. He is breathing in long controlled measures, the way a man breathes when he has gone to a place inside himself that most people never visit.
He watches Scoops.
Scoops moves.
He gets one hand under himself. Then the other.
He is trying to push up
The crowd urge him on!
He gets his knees under him. He raises his head and looks across the ring at SEB, blood covering his entire face, one eye closed from the swelling, the barbed wire halo still sitting across his crown. He opens his mouth to say something and what comes out is not words. It is a sound from somewhere older than language, the sound of a man refusing to accept what his body is telling him.
He tries to stand.
He cannot stand.
His arms buckle and he goes back to the canvas, face down, palms flat. His chest is still moving. He is still breathing. But he cannot get up. The referee drops beside him and begins the count.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Scoops' right hand drags across the mat, searching for purchase.
Six.
Seven.
SEB readies himself, his eyes beating down on Scoops as a pool of blood leaks onto the mat.
Eight!
Nine!
But Scoops’ hands falls flat on the canvas.
Ten!!!
The referee waves it off. Scoops McGee cannot continue.
WINNER AND NEW UNIVERSAL CHAMPION - SEBASTION EVERETT-BRYCE!
JC: IT'S OVER. SEBASTIAN EVERETT-BRYCE WINS BY KNOCKOUT. SEBASTIAN EVERETT-BRYCE A THREE-TIME AND NEW XWF UNIVERSAL CHAMPION.
JR: He did it. He did it and I don't think he could have beaten a more worthy champion to do it.
The ring bell sounds. The referee takes the Universal Championship from the timekeeper and brings it toward SEB, who stands in the center of the ring with his hands at his sides, chest still rising and falling with heavy breath. He takes the championship and holds it for a moment, looking at it in his hands rather than raising it above his head.
He looks at Scoops.
The medical team is already in the ring, working on Scoops, carefully removing the barbed wire from his scalp. Scoops is conscious. He is staring at the lights. SEB walks toward him and crouches down beside the fallen champion, and for a moment the two of them exist at the same level, the new champion and the old one, separated by a generation and forty years of very different lives that led to the same canvas on the same night.
SEB gives a single nod.
He stands, takes two steps toward the ropes, and stops. He looks back once more at Scoops McGee, who is now being helped to a sitting position by the medical team. Blood on everything. Still here.
Sebastian Everett-Bryce raises the XWF Universal Championship.
JR: Ladies and gentlemen. Your new XWF Universal Champion. And the toughest man I have ever watched lose is Scoops McGee.
JC: From Leap of Faith on fucking MARS! Good night everybody.
THANK YOU TO
Our Match Writers
Atticus Gold
‘Bashmaster’ Barry Masterson
‘Big’ Dick Lichter
Peter Principle
ELO
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