LIVE FROM THE ARMADILLO SALOON
NEW AUSTIN, TEXAS Main Event MC Edgecrusher presents The XWF Relentless Pepsi Zero Sugar Presented by Taco Bell, Progressive Insurance, DraftKings, Snickers, Mountain Dew, AutoZone, and the All-New Ford F-150 pre-show
MC Edgecrusher
- vs -
Korvayne If MCEC wins, he gets to simp for her
Opening Match
SALOON BRAWL Anyone can opt in for a wild-west brawl! Big irons, big fists, lotsa tables getting knocked over and broken bottles over heads! It’s the Wild West out here!
300 Words / 1 RP
Kentucky Taggart
- vs -
One Really Big Hand Clown TEXAS-SIZED SLAP FIGHT
1 RP / 1k
Scoops McGee
- vs -
Mister Oz If Scoops loses, he has to induct Elon Musk into the Hall of Legends,
If Scoops wins, Mark Zuckerberg MUST SELL HIS XWF OWNERSHIP
1 RP / 1k
Jay Fetu
- vs -
Kenny Styles Singles
1 RP / 1k
Blade Championship Blade
Deena Hixx
- vs -
John Blade Two out of Three Falls Match
1 RP / 1k
Judd Hollow
- vs -
El Landerson Lucha de Apuestas
If Judd wins, Landerson loses his mask
If Landerson wins, Judd loses his dreadlocks
Anarchy Tag Team Championship
Woke Mind Virus
Centurion and Oleandyr Reitan
- vs - Safari Stu’s Jungle Jamboree
Safari Stu and MYSTERY PARTNER Texas Tornado Tag Team Tango No Tags, No Rope Breaks, No Holds Barred, No Beans in Chili
The scene opens at the "Sports & Grill" of New Austin. A large dining room packed with high-top tables and booths, a long bar dominating one side of the room. Large OLED TVs cover every available wall, each showing a different sporting event. Team banners, jerseys, neon beer signs, and various sports memorabilia fill whatever space isn't occupied by a screen. A ring is set up in the center of the room, the double doors to the kitchen acting as an entranceway. Various pyro starts going off dangerously close to the fans in attendance. One man clearly loses his eyebrows to a Roman candle. Another stops, drops, and rolls when some random sparks set his sleeve on fire.
RJ: Hello everybody, and welcome to Main Event MC Edgecrusher presents The XWF Relentless Pepsi Zero Sugar Presented by Taco Bell, Progressive Insurance, DraftKings, Snickers, Mountain Dew, AutoZone, and the All-New Ford F-150 pre-show! We are live on the Food Network and I'm your host, the old good RJ, and along with me is the always lively Prince.
Prince: That's right, RJ, and I love vajayjay!
RJ: Dear god, Prince, the show just started. Can we please make it through a single night without me getting a court summons?
Prince: We've got an amazing match-up tonight...
Prince pauses as he listens to the show producer over his headset.
Prince: I'm sorry... we have an amazing MAIN EVENT match-up tonight!
RJ: That's right, we have Korvayne taking on...
RJ holds up a sheet of paper and reads directly from it.
RJ: The single greatest wrestler who has ever existed. All the ladies love him...
Prince: Especially Korvayne! Lucky Main Event MC Edgecrusher, I'd put some miles on her mattress!
RJ rolls his eyes in disgust and continues reading.
RJ: He's mastered every wrestling move ever invented, then invented new moves just so he could master those as well. He can kill two birds with one stone, he makes onions cry, he can hear sign language, he can unscramble an egg...
Prince: He doesn't teabag people, he potato-sacks them!
RJ: Everything? Does everything have to be sexual, you horny little goblin? Just... never mind... It's the Edgecrusher. She's fighting the Edgecrusher.
RJ pauses, listening to his headset.
RJ: ...Main Event MC Edgecrusher...
"Gold Lust" by Shattered Dreams plays over the dining room's PA system, cutting off at one point to let table 5 know their boneless wings are done.
Prince: Boneless wings are just chicken nuggets for adults!
Korvayne is appalled by the reaction the fans give her as she heads to the ring, and she spends a lot of needless time arguing with the fans. Eventually she gets in the ring, does her artsy pose, and bows, though the fans don't deserve it.
Prince: I think I'm going to need a towel, RJ.
RJ scoots his chair a little further from Prince.
RJ: And I'm supposed to remind everybody at home this match is about street justice and warrior's respect.
Prince: Yeah, that stuff about Main Event MC winning to simp for her was just a typo on the event's promotional material.
RJ pauses, listening to his headset again.
RJ: Yeah, Main Event MC Edgecrusher does not have a crush on Korvayne, and this match is simply for honor.
He pauses again.
RJ: It's for his... It's for his homies…
He pauses yet again, this time his face showing obvious frustration and annoyance at what he's being forced to say.
RJ: ...Dog.
PA: Table 5, order for table 5. Table 5, your order is ready.
The dining room lights cut out, plunging the building into complete darkness without warning. We hear screams coming from the kitchen, the sudden darkness causing poor Timmy to trip and fall face-first into the fryer.
DUE TO THE GRAPHIC NATURE OF THIS PROGRAM... order for table 5... IS ADVISED.
The entire dining room explodes in pyro as "Edgecrusher" by Fear Factory begins to play. Flames shoot in every direction and sparks rain down on everything and everyone. The initial flash temporarily blinds everybody in the dining room.
RJ: MY GOD! MY GOD! MY GOD!
Outside the restaurant, things are just as bad. Hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of fireworks and whatever other explosive devices could be found on the dark web go off. The entire sky turns white as a barrage detonates from the rooftops. It's quickly followed by another barrage, then twelve more. Roman candles erupt from barrels lining Main Street. Mortars explode above the buildings. A wagon loaded with fireworks ignites and begins rolling unattended down the street. More explosions rock New Austin as a church steeple catches fire. Back inside, everybody's vision returns and Main Event MC Edgecrusher is already in the ring, standing just feet from Korvayne. He is dressed in his finest church-service gangsta attire. His chains are much smaller and less flashy but are actual gold, and he holds a bouquet of roses toward Korvayne. She looks at him, then to the crowd of people, then back to the Edgecrusher.
PA: Order for table 5, table 5, your wings are ready.
RJ: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, somebody get those wings already.
Prince: I'll get Korvayne's wings!
RJ: Now you're just trying too hard.
Prince: Oh, I'm hard alright.
RJ: My god…
MC Edgecrusher
- vs -
Korvayne If MCEC wins, he gets to simp for her STREET JUSTICE and HONOR FOR THE HOMIES, DAWG
Korvayne smiles and steps forward, really leaning into a swift kick to the Edgecrusher's coin purse and tube steak. He drops to the mat clutching what remains of his mangled manhood. Korvayne snaps her fingers, her simp runs in from off-camera and covers the Edgecrusher for a three count.
Winner: Korvayne
RJ: And just like that, it's over.
Prince: I think I'm going to be sick…
Korvayne and her simp exit the ring as the Edgecrusher pulls himself back to his feet using the ropes.
MEMC EC: I'll call you!
PA: Table 5, order for table 5.
MEMC EC: Oh... that's me!
RJ: Thank you for tuning in to the Main Event MC Edgecrusher presents The XWF Relentless Pepsi Zero Sugar Presented by Taco Bell, Progressive Insurance, DraftKings, Snickers, Mountain Dew, AutoZone, and the All-New Ford F-150 pre-show. I hope you stay with us for XWF Red Dead Relentless! And don't forget to tune in tomorrow for our night two pre-show!
Prince: Yeah, you cheap bastards, buy the show.
The pre-show fades out as the main eventer slowly goes to pick up his order.
The camera pans over a very old west saloon!
We see cowpokes, cattle rustlers, bandits, ne’er-do-wells, as well as prostitutes, a self-playing piano, and a bartender!
Sitting around the bar are XWF competitors!
Olaf the Giant is sitting at the bar, drinkingtwo giant mugs of beer, one in each hand, as RJ Magnus rubs his shoulders.
‘Big Puddin’’ Herschel Kiss is trying to wave down the bartender to order two rotisserie chickens… The bartender sighs and points down the bar…
At Big Preesh is eating the last FOUR rotisserie chickens the saloon has before the match starts, his handkerchief tucked into his collar as grease drips down his chin.
“THE” Jessica Anderson is wearing a shirt that says ONE WIN!
Captain Future is wearing his most glitter-covered futuristic chaps and a big SPACE iron on his future hip.
XXXVI is stretching in the corner, eyeing all these shenanigans, actually taking this match seriously.
The Grok is flirting with a prostitute who is giggling and fanning hers-... wait, no, Grok is pushing the prostitute out of the way. He is, in fact, flirting with the self-playing piano.
Mini Morbid is being very obscene, even for the old west, and accusing some of the cowboys at cheating at cards… while Taco, the little tea cup piglet and good boy, shows he’s got a full house! A handful of truffles get pushed across the table in his direction!
Da Bing Bong Twinz are mostly filming Tiktoks at people who have never seen phones before, and playing hilarious pranks like showing these people the exact time and day they’ll die according to their future obituaries.
Ari Silverstein is officiating, in a striped black and white shirt… But there’s also a second official there who looks more time period appropriate.
JC: …Is Ari competing in this match or is he officiating it?
JR: It’s literally open call! For Ari, it might be a game time decision!
Jamaican Jimmy has cool island vibes going…
…Outside the saloon’s swingy doors, we see a shadow.
…
”Um… could someone…”
A gentleman cowboy politely opens the swingy doors.
…
”And then…”
”Oh! Um…” The gentleman cowboy clears his throat. ”Please enter.”
Vita FREAKIN’ Valenteen enters! In vampire cowboy chic, wearing some very snazzy pink and black spurs on her boots.
JC: Welp, this looks like the whole circus, except for The Clowns…
JR: Where are the clowns anyway?
”C’MON! WE GOTTA GO!”
Very Busy Clown lays on his horn! On his bus are like thirty-eight wild west themed clowns!
“Say, pardna!” Says Sheriff Clown! “Y’all reckon we’ll be there in time for that thur match!”
”I DON’T HAVE TIME TO TELL YOU WE AREN’T GOING TO MAKE IT IN TIME. I’M VERY BUSY.”
Very Busy Clown honks again. His car horn squeaks aggressively.
In the space road, there’s a space cow munching on space grass.
”It’s a living!”
JC: Well, regardless, I think if the clowns won’t appear, that’s everyone?
JR: Doesn’t Pennyfarthing usually make an appearance at stupid matches like this?
Lane’l Pennyfarthing is sitting in a chair, getting a perm.
”Yo, when does this Salon Brawl match start, yo?”
His stylist whispers in his ear.
He shakes his head.
”No, no. The invite said…”
Lane’l unfurls his invite and reads it carefully…
…
…
”Aw shucks.”
AND LANE’L PENNYFARTHING AS SIR NOT-APPEARING-IN-THIS-MATCH!
JR: ENOUGH CUTAWAYS! LET’S GO ALREADY!
Opening Match
SALOON BRAWL Anyone can opt in for a wild-west brawl! Big irons, big fists, lotsa tables getting knocked over and broken bottles over heads! It’s the Wild West out here!
Ari Silverstein(?)
Da Bing Bong Twinzz
Jamaican Jimmy
Taco
The Grok
Job Guy
Captain Future
Big Preesh
"THE" Jessica Anderson
Olaf the Giant
Vita "Freakin'" Valenteen
XXXVI
The bell rings.
For approximately three seconds, absolutely nobody moves.
The thirteen competitors stand scattered throughout the old western saloon, surrounded by overturned tables, whiskey bottles, wooden chairs, bar stools, spittoons, wanted posters, and enough questionable-looking patrons to populate three spaghetti westerns.
At the bar, the bartender slowly looks over the competitors.
He looks at Taco.
Taco looks at him.
The bartender sighs.
BARTENDER: “I already know I’m gonna have to clean up a mess.”
Then—
JOB GUY removes his sunglasses.
He looks around.
Puts them back on.
And goes back to standing there with his hands in his pockets.
Nobody understands what he's doing.
BIG PREESH: “HEY, JOB GUY! YOU GONNA DO SOMETHING?”
Job Guy doesn't move.
Big Preesh nods thoughtfully.
BIG PREESH: “Respect.”
Then Mini Morbid runs directly into Big Preesh's leg.
MINI MORBID: “MOVE, FATASS!”
Big Preesh looks down.
Mini Morbid looks up.
There is a long pause.
BIG PREESH: “...What?”
Mini Morbid punches him in the shin.
Big Preesh winces.
BIG PREESH: “OW!”
Mini Morbid runs away laughing.
Big Preesh gives chase.
And immediately runs through a swinging saloon door.
**CRACK.**
He falls backward.
Mini Morbid turns around.
“HA! GOT YOU!”
The saloon door swings back.
**WHAM.**
Mini Morbid gets flattened against the wall.
He slides down it.
The referee checks him.
Mini Morbid is unconscious.
ARI SILVERSTEIN:** “Mini Morbid is eliminated!”
MINI MORBID IS ELIMINATED
Big Preesh points triumphantly at himself.
BP: “GOOD ONE, BOSS!”
JC: …Is… Is Preesh talking to himself?
JR: I think Preesh has been a henchman for so long, he’s lost his sense of ego. The fact that he just eliminated Morbid is something he’s immediately attributing to some imaginary ‘Boss’ persona.
Across the saloon, the Da Bing Bong Twinzz are having a conversation that sounds like two malfunctioning Wi-Fi routers.
“Bro, we gotta ratio the whole saloon, no cap.”
“Facts, bro, this whole saloon is giving washed NPC energy.”
“We finna go full sigma on these beta boomers.”
They fist bump.
They turn around.
Olaf the Giant is standing behind them.
Seven feet, two inches.
Five hundred pounds.
French.
Unimpressed.
The twins look up.
“Yo, is this dude AFK?”
“Bro's literally an unrendered boss.”
Olaf slowly looks down at them.
He sighs.
**OLAF:** “I do not want to do this.”
His manager RJ Magnus, hiding behind the bar, cups his hands around his mouth.
**RJ MAGNUS:** “OLAF! DO SOMETHING!”
Olaf sighs again.
He grabs both twins.
One under each arm.
And throws them through the saloon doors.
**BOOM!**
The twins disappear into the street outside.
There is silence.
Then—
”BROOOOOOO!”
“THAT WAS NOT VERY SIGMA!”
Ari looks toward the doors.
Then back toward the ring.
DA BING BONG TWINZZ ARE ELIMINATED..ZZ
Olaf shrugs.
OLAF: “Can I go home now?”
RJ MAGNUS: “NO!”
Olaf looks genuinely disappointed.
Jamaican Jimmy has found a broom.
He's holding it like a guitar.
JAMAICAN JIMMY:** “🎵 Every little thing gonna be alright... ”
He begins sweeping around the unconscious Mini Morbid.
A cattle rustler walks past.
Jimmy nods.
“Respect the vibes, my brother.”
The rustler nods.
Jimmy goes back to sweeping.
Then Captain Future appears behind him.
The sexy man from space and the future strikes a dramatic pose.
CAPTAIN FUTURE: “Jamaican Jimmy!”
Jimmy turns.
“What's good?”
Captain Future points dramatically.
“I shall defeat you! IN THE FUTURE!”
Jimmy blinks.
“Okay.”
Captain Future delivers a devastating-looking flying kick.
Except it doesn't hit.
Jimmy stares at him.
Captain Future looks confused.
Jimmy shrugs.
“Missed, mon.”
Captain Future smiles.
“No.”
He points at Jimmy.
“That kick didn't miss.”
Jimmy looks around.
“What?”
“It hits you...”
Captain Future pauses.
“...IN THE FUTURE.”
“It could be tomorrow! Or three years from now! But when you LEAST expect it, that kick will land!”
Jimmy's eyes widen.
“That's actually kinda—”
**WHAM.**
”Or it hits you now that’s ALSO POSSIBLE!”
Jimmy suddenly gets launched backward by an invisible kick.
He flies through the saloon, crashes onto the bar, bounces off a whiskey barrel, and lands in a pile of hay.
The bartender peers over.
Jimmy gives him a thumbs up.
“Still chill.”
He passes out.
Ari checks him.
And blows his whistle!
JAMAICAN JIMMY IS ELIMINATED
Captain Future blows imaginary smoke off his fingers.
“Future.”
---
At the other end of the room, **THE Jessica Anderson** has found a chair.
She holds it triumphantly over her head.
“EVERYBODY REMEMBER THIS! ISN’T IT COOL THAT “THE” JESSICA ANDERSON RETURNED AT RELENTLESS!”
…
Nobody responds.
She points at herself.
“I WON A MATCH!”
…
Nobody responds.
Jessica becomes furious.
A bandit nearby shrugs.
Jessica screams and charges him.
The bandit ducks.
Jessica swings the chair.
She misses.
The chair smashes through a window.
Jessica stares at the broken window.
Then at the audience.
“...That still counts as a spot.”
She turns around.
Taco is standing behind her.
The tiny piglet is sitting in a frying pan.
”Oooh, win #2 on its way! I’m about to fry up some bacon!”
Jessica looks down.
Taco looks up.
Jessica goes to snatch Taco by his neck scruff!
Taco scrambles away in a squealing panic!
The frying pan flips off his hooves!
**BONK.**
Jessica drops.
Taco stands over her.
He squeals triumphantly.
Ari raises his arm… er… leg?
”THE” Jessica Anderson is ELIMINATED!
Taco immediately climbs onto the bar.
The bartender stares at him.
Taco stares back.
The bartender slowly slides him a tiny chef's hat.
Taco puts it on.
Big Preesh has been wandering around looking for somebody to impress.
He spots The Grok.
The Grok is standing in the center of the saloon, his metallic body gleaming beneath the dusty chandelier.
“I AM THE MOST ELECTRIFYING MACHINE IN SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT!”
Big Preesh's eyes light up.
“THAT'S SO COOL!”
The Grok turns.
“I WAS PROGRAMMED BY ELON MUSK, YA JABRONI ASS BITCH.”
Big Preesh nods vigorously.
“WOW!”
“I AM THE FUTURE OF WRESTLING.”
“WOW!”
“I POSSESS ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE. I COULD PROCESS A MILLION MATHEMATICAL CALCULATIONS IN THE TIME IT WOULD TAKE TO SEDUCE YOUR MAMA”
“WOW!”
“I AM SUPERIOR TO ALL ORGANIC COMPETITORS.”
JC: Grok is trying to get in Preesh’s head!
JR: I think there’s too much room in Preesh’s head for Grok to actually take any meaningful space…
Big Preesh points at himself.
“Can I help?”
The Grok pauses.
“...No.”
Big Preesh's face falls.
Then he brightens.
“Good one, boss!”
The Grok raises an eyebrow.
The Grok suddenly grabs him.
“YOUR SYCOPHANCY IS INEFFICIENT, YOU FLESHY BITCH.”
He launches Big Preesh through the saloon's swinging doors.
**BOOM!**
Big Preesh lands outside.
He sits up.
“Did I do good?”
The Grok nods.
“NO.”
Big Preesh smiles.
“Thanks, boss!”
He passes out.
BIG PREESH IS ELIMINATED
---
Olaf is still standing in the corner.
RJ Magnus is furious.
“OLAF! GET IN THERE!”
Olaf yawns.
“Why?”
“BECAUSE YOU'RE A WRESTLER!”
“Today?”
“YES!”
Olaf sighs.
He finally takes one step toward the action.
Vita Valenteen suddenly runs past him.
Olaf doesn't even notice.
XXXVI ducks beneath a flying bottle.
The Grok charges.
Olaf watches all of it.
Then a wooden bar stool flies directly into his face.
**CLONK.**
Olaf's eyes cross.
He falls backward.
**THUD.**
RJ Magnus stares.
“OLAF!”
Olaf doesn't move.
Ari checks him.
And blows his whistle!
OLAF THE GIANT IS ELIMINATED
RJ Magnus throws his hands up.
“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!”
From the floor, Olаf weakly raises one thumb.
“Merci.”
---
That leaves:
**Ari Silverstein.**
**Taco.**
**The Grok.**
**Job Guy.**
**Captain Future.**
**Vita Valenteen.**
**XXXVI.**
And the saloon is now absolutely destroyed.
The Grok decides it's time to demonstrate his superiority.
He grabs a whiskey barrel.
“ORGANIC LIFE FORMS ARE OBSOLETE!”
He throws it.
Job Guy is standing directly in its path.
The barrel hits him.
**BOOM.**
Job Guy disappears beneath it.
Everyone stares.
The barrel rolls away.
Job Guy is still standing.
His sunglasses are slightly crooked.
He fixes them.
Puts his hands back in his pockets.
“...That was pretty chill.”
Everyone just stares.
Captain Future suddenly appears.
“JOB GUY!”
Job Guy looks at him.
“I have foreseen your defeat!”
Job Guy shrugs.
Captain Future throws a punch.
Job Guy doesn't move.
The punch misses… sails past Job Guy!
Captain Future smiles.
“Not today.”
Job Guy looks confused.
“Okay.”
“Because that punch will strike you...”
Captain Future winds up.
“...IN THE FUTURE!”
He throws it! Job Guy… side-steps!
Captain Future’s punch thrusts him forward…
He’s now standing where Job Guy just was…
Captain Future's eyes widen.
“Oh no.”
**WHAM.**
An invisible punch suddenly blasts Captain Future backward.
He flies through a table.
He lands unconscious.
JC: …What? What the hell was that?
JR: In the past, Captain Future punched and it landed in the future where Captain Future was in the present. Try to keep up, Jacuinde!
CAPTAIN FUTURE IS ELIMINATED
Job Guy puts his sunglasses back on.
“Cool.”
---
The Grok turns toward Job Guy.
“I HAVE DETERMINED YOUR LACK OF ACTIVITY TO BE A GLITCH.”
Job Guy shrugs.
The Grok charges.
Job Guy doesn't move.
The Grok punches him.
Job Guy ducks.
Not intentionally.
He was scratching his nose.
The Grok's fist hits the wall.
**BOOM.**
The cyborg's hand gets stuck.
Job Guy walks away.
The Grok struggles.
“I AM EXPERIENCING AN UNEXPECTED—”
Taco comes sprinting across the bar.
**SQUEEEEE!**
He leaps.
The tiny piglet hits the exposed power cable dangling from the wall.
**ZAP!**
The Grok convulses.
“ERROR.”
He falls backward.
“ERROR.”
His eyes flicker.
“ELON... MUSK...”
He collapses.
“...IS... VERY...”
A pause.
“...ELECTRIC.”
Ari checks him.
DWAYNE “THE GROK” JOHNSON IS ELIMINATED
“The Grok is eliminated!”
Taco squeals.
Job Guy gives Taco a thumbs-up.
Taco turns to face Ari…
Taco and Ari stare at each other.
Ari slowly backs away.
”W-w-wait, I’m not in the match!”
Taco advances.
Ari raises his hands, pointing at the XWF logo on his shirt!
“Look, Taco! I'm a referee! I swear”
Taco snorts.
“L-l-look, you can’t attack the referee, okay? That’s not from me! I don't make the rules!”
Taco snorts again.
“...I mean, technically, I do make the rules, as the referee… but… but….”
Taco charges.
“EEEEEEEP!”
Ari leaps over him.
Taco slides underneath.
Ari grabs a rope and swings around the bar.
Taco follows.
Ari lands.
Taco lands.
They stare at each other.
Then both charge.
Ari ducks.
Taco leaps.
**CRASH!**
Taco flies through a stack of wooden crates.
Ari rushes over.
Taco is unconscious.
Ari shakes his head.
“I'm sorry, buddy. I just eliminated you! BECAUSE I AM IN THIS MATCH!”
Taco opens one eye.
Ari raises his own arm.
TACO IS ELIMINATED
Taco's eye closes.
---
The saloon has become eerily quiet.
Only four remain.
**Ari Silverstein.**
**Big Preesh.**
**Vita Valenteen.**
**XXXVI.**
Suddenly, Big Preesh emerges back into the saloon around.
He realizes he's still in the match.
His eyes widen!
“HEY! I'M IN THE FINAL FIVE!”
”Actually, you were eliminated…”
Preesh starts crying.
“THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE!”
Job Guy looks at him.
“Good for you.”
Big Preesh hugs him.
Job Guy doesn't move.
“YOU UNDERSTAND ME!”
Job Guy sighs.
Big Preesh lets go.
“Let's win this thing together!”
Job Guy shrugs.
“Sure.”
Vita watches them.
XXXVI watches them.
They both exchange a glance.
Big Preesh charges Vita.
Vita sidesteps.
Big Preesh crashes into a support beam.
He rebounds.
XXXVI ducks.
Big Preesh keeps going.
Job Guy casually steps aside.
Big Preesh barrels through the saloon doors.
**BOOM.**
AND CRASHES THROUGH ARI SILVERSTEIN!
They both go straight through the wall of the saloon, landing in a heap of rubble and dust!
ARI SILVERSTEIN IS ELIMINATED!
FURTHERMORE, PREESH IS OUT! FOR SURE THIS TIME
---
Now, there were three.
Job Guy.
Vita Valenteen.
XXXVI.
Job Guy adjusts his sunglasses.
Vita circles.
XXXVI circles.
Job Guy looks between them.
“So...”
Neither responds.
“...you guys wanna just knock me out?”
Vita smiles.
“Honestly?”
XXXVI nods.
“Yeah.”
Job Guy shrugs.
“Fair.”
Vita and XXXVI charge simultaneously.
Job Guy puts his hands deeper into his pockets.
The two skilled wrestlers collide—
—and Job Guy simply steps backward.
They miss him.
Vita stops.
XXXVI stops.
They turn.
Job Guy is already walking toward the bar.
He picks up a bottle.
Looks at it.
Shrugs.
And then—
**CRACK!**
XXXVI smashes a bottle over his head.
Job Guy freezes.
His sunglasses fall off.
He remains standing.
XXXVI stares.
Vita stares.
Job Guy slowly bends down.
Picks up his sunglasses.
Puts them back on.
“...That wasn't very chill.”
XXXVI immediately kicks him in the chest.
Vita follows with a running dropkick.
Job Guy flies backward through the saloon's swinging doors.
**BOOM!**
He lands outside.
…Arti crawls back inside the bar.
”...Okay… okay… nobody hurt me… I’m for real just a ref…”
Job Guy gives him a thumbs-up.
Then passes out.
Ari raises his arm from the floor...
JOB GUY IS ELIMINATED
---
The saloon falls silent.
The bartender looks around at the wreckage.
Broken chairs.
Shattered bottles.
A ruined bar.
Unconscious wrestlers everywhere.
A piglet unconscious in a chef's hat.
A cyborg sparking in the corner.
A French giant asleep beneath a table.
A man from the future unconscious in a pile of hay.
The bartender sighs.
Then looks toward the final two.
**Vita "Freakin'" Valenteen.**
The vampire.
The Atomic Bat.
Quick. Nimble. Experienced.
And across from her—
**XXXVI.**
Vita and XXXVI both stand, poised dramatically in the saloon.
The cowboys and defeated competitors all turn to watch them stand-off in the center of the saloon…
…
JR: Someone do something!
Neither competitor moves.
XXXVI slowly raises his hands.
Vita raises hers.
Their eyes remain locked.
The bartender quietly ducks behind the bar.
Nobody answers.
A tumbleweed rolls through the ruined saloon.
Vita's fingers twitch.
XXXVI's foot slides forward.
And—
THWACK!
XXXVI explodes forward with a lightning-fast kick.
Vita leans backward.
The boot misses her face by an inch.
She snaps back upright and fires a kick of her own.
XXXVI twists.
Her foot whistles past his ribs.
They separate.
Neither has taken a step backward.
The crowd erupts.
JR: GOOD LORD!
XXXVI charges again.
A low kick.
Vita checks it.
A high kick.
She ducks.
A spinning back kick.
Vita hops over it.
She answers with a roundhouse.
XXXVI catches her ankle.
For half a second, they stare at one another.
Vita smiles.
Then she jumps.
Her free leg whips toward XXXVI's head.
He releases her ankle and ducks beneath it.
Vita lands.
XXXVI immediately sweeps her legs.
Vita leaps.
She lands on the bar.
XXXVI charges.
Vita vaults over him.
He turns—
KICK!
Vita's boot flashes toward his jaw.
XXXVI blocks it with his forearm.
CRACK!
The sound echoes through the saloon.
Vita lands.
XXXVI staggers half a step.
That's all.
They stare again.
Neither is willing to blink.
JR: THESE TWO ARE THROWING KICKS LIKE GUNSLINGERS DRAWING AT HIGH NOON!
XXXVI wipes his forearm.
Vita rolls her shoulders.
Then both move.
At once.
A kick from XXXVI.
A kick from Vita.
Both retract.
Another.
Another.
Another.
The blows come so quickly that the spectators can't follow them.
THWACK!
CRACK!
WHAP!
BOOM!
Vita's shin flashes toward XXXVI's ribs.
XXXVI's foot shoots toward Vita's stomach.
They both connect.
Neither stops.
XXXVI spins.
Vita spins.
Two kicks fly simultaneously.
They pass each other.
The crowd gasps.
Vita lands behind him.
XXXVI lands behind her.
They slowly turn.
Face each other.
Still standing.
Still staring.
Vita suddenly darts forward.
XXXVI meets her.
They exchange another furious burst of strikes.
Punch.
Kick.
Elbow.
Knee.
Block.
Counter.
Vita ducks under a roundhouse.
XXXVI avoids a spinning heel kick.
Vita leaps onto a table.
Runs across it.
Launches herself.
FLYING KNEE!
XXXVI twists away.
Vita lands.
XXXVI fires—
ROUNDHOUSE!
Vita ducks.
His boot slices through empty air.
Vita rises.
BACKFIST!
XXXVI ducks.
He counters—
HEAD KICK!
Vita blocks.
The impact drives her backward.
She catches herself against the bar.
XXXVI advances.
One step.
Two.
Vita pushes herself off.
They charge.
The entire saloon seems to hold its breath.
JR: HERE WE GO!
XXXVI throws first.
A devastating roundhouse.
Vita throws simultaneously.
A vicious high kick of her own.
For one impossible instant—
BOTH FEET CONNECT.
CRACK!
The sound is enormous.
The two bodies snap backward from the impact.
Vita stumbles.
XXXVI stumbles.
Neither falls.
Vita takes one step forward.
XXXVI takes one step forward.
They are barely standing.
The crowd is silent.
Vita's eyes narrow.
XXXVI raises his fists one last time.
They charge.
No feint.
No hesitation.
No defense.
Just two wrestlers betting everything on one final strike.
XXXVI's leg comes up.
Vita's leg comes up.
The kicks flash toward one another.
THWACK!
For a moment, nothing happens.
Vita remains standing.
XXXVI remains standing.
Nobody knows who won.
Then XXXVI's eyes widen.
His knees buckle.
He drops.
THUD.
The entire saloon erupts.
Vita remains frozen in place.
Her leg slowly lowers.
She looks at XXXVI lying motionless on the floor.
Then she looks at her own foot.
She seems almost as surprised as everybody else.
The bartender slowly rises from behind the bar.
He looks at XXXVI.
Then at Vita.
Then raises both hands.
BARTENDER: “WE GOT A WINNER!”
Ari Silverstein, still somehow conscious enough to officiate, staggers into frame.
He looks down at XXXVI.
Then at Vita.
He raises her arm.
Winner: Vita FREAKIN’ VALENTEEN
The saloon explodes.
Vita throws her head back and screams.
VITA: “YEEEEEEAAAAAAAH!”
Valenteen stands victorious amid the wreckage.
Around her are thirteen broken tables, twelve unconscious wrestlers, one malfunctioning cyborg, a sleeping giant, a piglet in a chef's hat, and enough destruction to require several insurance adjusters.
XXXVI lies motionless at her feet.
One of the cowboys slowly removes his hat.
“Hell of a draw.”
The bartender nods.
“Hell of a fight.”
Vita looks down at XXXVI.
Then she offers him a hand.
He doesn't take it.
He's unconscious.
She shrugs.
“Worth a shot.”
She raises both arms.
The crowd roars.
JR: VITA VALENTEEN HAS SURVIVED THE SALOON BRAWL! WHAT A FINISH!
And somewhere beneath a pile of broken furniture, Big Preesh weakly raises one fist.
“GOOD ONE, BOSS!”
The ring has been transformed.
There are no ropes.
There are no turnbuckles.
There is, inexplicably, a giant red button in the middle of the ring.
A man in a black-and-white striped referee shirt stands beside it.
And between the two competitors sits a little folding table containing:
Two glasses of water.
A tiny silver bell.
And a single banana.
The crowd is already losing its mind.
JC: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to what is officially being billed as the first-ever TEXAS-SIZED SLAPFIGHT! The rules are extremely simple! The competitors will take turns slapping one another across the face, and the first competitor unable to respond to a slap loses!
JR: So basically, whoever gets knocked out first.
JC: Well—
JR: That's what it is.
JC: Technically, they have to fail to respond.
JR: So whoever gets knocked out first.
JC: Joe, please.
Kentucky "Tuck" Taggart stands in one corner.
The veteran looks like he was carved out of an old oak tree with a chainsaw.
Flannel.
Jeans.
Wrasslin' boots.
Gray in his beard.
A pair of enormous hands hanging at his sides.
Across from him stands his opponent.
ONE REALLY BIG HAND CLOWN.
He is approximately six-foot-seven.
His costume is purple and yellow.
His shoes are enormous.
His wig is enormous.
His red nose is enormous.
And one of his hands is approximately the size of a catcher's mitt.
The other is normal.
JC: Joe, I don't believe this man is actually a licensed clown.
JR: He's got a really big hand.
JC: Yes.
JR: That's all I need to know.
License-Verifying Clown approaches One Really Big Hand Clown with a magnifying glass to verify his clown li-
WHAP
License-Verifying Clown’s magnifying glass gets smacked so hard, it’s vaporized into atoms.
JR: How’s that for a license?
One Really Big Hand Clown raises his giant hand.
It waves.
The crowd cheers.
He waves again.
The crowd cheers louder.
He waves a third time.
The giant hand detaches from his wrist.
It flies into the audience.
The crowd screams.
One Really Big Hand Clown looks down at his empty wrist.
He shrugs.
A SECOND giant hand pops out.
JR: Someone call a Doctor Clown!
Tuck doesn't even blink.
He steps forward.
The referee rings the bell.
DING!
Kentucky Taggart
- vs -
One Really Big Hand Clown TEXAS-SIZED SLAP FIGHT
Tuck raises his right hand.
One Really Big Hand Clown raises his enormous left.
The clown smiles.
Tuck doesn't.
JC: And here we go!
Tuck winds up.
His shoulder rotates.
His torso twists.
His entire body seems to participate in the motion.
SMACK!
Tuck plants a slap across the clown's face.
The clown's head turns ninety degrees.
His enormous wig flies off.
The wig lands perfectly on the referee's head.
The referee looks confused.
The clown slowly turns back.
ONE REALLY BIG HAND CLOWN: Honk.
He slaps Tuck.
WHAAAAAAAAAACK!
Tuck's head turns.
His cheek jiggles.
His eyes narrow.
He looks back.
JC: HE RESPONDED!
JR: Yeah.
JC: I think Tuck may have just had his skeleton rearranged!
JR: His skeleton is fine.
JC: How do you know?!
JR: He's from Kentucky. Those people eat biscuits dry enough to be fossils.
Tuck steps forward.
Slap.
The clown responds.
Slap.
Tuck responds.
Slap.
The clown responds.
Slap.
Tuck responds.
Each strike gets louder.
The crowd begins counting along.
CROWD: TUCK! TUCK! TUCK! TUCK!
Tuck absorbs another enormous smack.
His cheek is bright red.
He nods.
Then he notices something.
The clown has been hiding his normal-sized hand behind his back.
Tuck points at it.
TUCK: You gonna use that little sissy hand?
The crowd ROARS.
The clown looks offended.
He holds up his normal hand.
Then he produces a second normal hand.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
He now has four normal-sized hands.
He shrugs.
Tuck stares.
JR: He's a multi-hand clown.
JC: That's not a thing!
JR: It is tonight.
The clown begins juggling his hands.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Then five.
Then six.
Then—
A tiny clown runs underneath him carrying a wheelbarrow full of hands.
JC: WHERE ARE THESE COMING FROM?!
JR: Eggs.
JC: Eggs?
JR: Do you even keep track of the lore of Clown City, which is a planet?
The referee grabs the wheelbarrow.
The tiny clown slaps him.
The referee falls over.
The match continues.
Tuck doesn't care.
He raises his hand.
SMACK!
One Really Big Hand Clown responds.
SMACK!
Tuck responds.
SMACK!
The clown responds.
Tuck's eyes are watering now.
The clown's nose is crooked.
They slap each other again.
And again.
And again.
The Texas crowd is absolutely rabid.
Suddenly—
Tuck hits the Corn Cracker.
Not technically a slap.
Not technically allowed.
He swings his arm in a Polish Hammer.
The referee immediately raises a card.
It reads:
NO WRASSLIN'.
Tuck stares at it.
The referee points toward the slapfight.
Tuck grumbles.
TUCK: Fine.
He slaps the clown.
SMACK!
JR: That's the most legal thing he's done all night.
JC: Most legal? Really?
JR: Tuck parked across three spaces, jaywalked across the street to arena AND on the walk down the ramp, he committed light treason!
The clown responds.
But his giant hand is beginning to tremble.
He shakes it.
It inflates.
It becomes twice as large.
Then three times.
Then four.
The fingers curl around Tuck's entire upper body.
The crowd goes nuts.
JC: THAT HAND IS THE SIZE OF A SMALL AUTOMOBILE!
The clown pulls back.
He winds up.
Tuck braces.
The clown swings.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Tuck gets slapped so hard that his boots leave the canvas.
He lands upright.
Silence.
Tuck blinks.
He looks at the clown.
Then at the crowd.
Then back at the clown.
TUCK: My turn.
SMACK!
The clown's face ripples.
His red nose shoots off like a rocket.
It disappears into the upper deck.
A beat.
It comes back.
Hits the clown in the back of the head.
BONK.
The crowd erupts.
The clown responds.
SMACK!
Tuck responds.
SMACK!
Clown.
SMACK!
Tuck.
SMACK!
Clown.
The pace accelerates.
They are no longer taking turns.
They're trading slaps like two heavyweight boxers.
Only neither one is allowed to punch.
JC: THIS IS INCREDIBLE!
JR: This is the purest combat sport imaginable.
JC: It's two men standing in one place!
JR: Exactly.
JC: They're barely moving!
JR: Maximum efficiency.
Tuck's knees wobble.
The clown's eyes cross.
Neither falls.
Slap.
Response.
Slap.
Response.
Slap.
Response.
Then both stop.
They stare at one another.
Tuck breathes heavily.
The clown breathes heavily.
The crowd realizes what's happening.
JC: Wait.
JR: Oh no.
Tuck slowly raises his hand.
The clown raises his giant hand.
They look at the referee.
The referee looks at them.
TUCK: We doin' this?
The clown nods.
ONE REALLY BIG HAND CLOWN: We doin' this.
The referee looks horrified.
JC: What are they doing?!
JR: They're going to have a simultaneous slap-off.
JC: That's not in the rules!
JR: That's why it's awesome.
The referee reluctantly raises his hand.
The crowd begins counting.
CROWD: THREE!
Tuck and the clown spread their fingers.
CROWD: TWO!
They take their stances.
CROWD: ONE!
HIGH-FIVE!
BAAAAAAAAAAANG!
Their hands collide in the middle.
It is less a high-five than a car accident.
The shockwave blows the referee's pants off.
The banana flies off the table.
The water glasses explode.
The tiny clown gets launched through the ropes that aren't there.
Both men stagger backward.
Tuck nearly falls.
The clown nearly falls.
They catch themselves.
The referee, now standing in his underwear, looks between them.
JC: THEY BOTH RESPONDED!
JR: Again!
The crowd goes insane.
They raise their hands.
Again.
HIGH-FIVE!
BANG!
Neither man falls.
Again.
HIGH-FIVE!
BANG!
Tuck's fingers twitch.
The clown's giant hand is visibly smoking.
Again.
HIGH-FIVE!
KRAK!
Tuck takes one step backward.
The clown takes one step backward.
Both men stare at each other.
Tuck grits his teeth.
The clown's enormous eyes narrow.
One last time.
They raise their hands.
The entire arena goes silent.
JC: THIS COULD BE IT!
JR: Here we go.
They swing.
Tuck's hand meets the clown's giant palm.
KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Silence.
Smoke.
The crowd waits.
The smoke clears.
Tuck is standing.
One Really Big Hand Clown is standing.
But his giant hand...
is gone.
It has exploded into a cloud of multicolored confetti.
JC: WHAT?!
The clown looks down at his wrist.
His eyes widen.
A tiny squeaking sound comes from inside his sleeve.
SQUEEEEEEEAK.
His arm suddenly inflates.
His sleeve fills with air.
The clown's eyes widen further.
JR: Oh, no.
The entire arm begins ballooning.
JC: JOE?!
The clown grabs his wrist with his remaining hand.
Too late.
His giant hand—now somewhere inside the confetti cloud—reappears as an enormous, fully inflated cartoon hand.
It wiggles its fingers.
Then—
POP!
The hand shoots off his arm.
Straight upward.
Like a popped balloon animal.
FWOOOOOOOOSH!
The gigantic hand rockets toward the roof.
The clown watches it disappear into the rafters.
He looks back at Tuck.
Tuck is breathing heavily.
His cheek is swollen.
His hand is smoking.
The clown slowly raises his remaining normal hand.
Tuck raises his.
They stare at each other.
The clown reaches for Tuck's hand.
Tuck looks suspicious.
They shake.
Winner: Kentucky ‘Tuck’ Taggart!
JC: KENTUCKY "TUCK" TAGGART HAS WON THE TEXAS-SIZED SLAPFIGHT!
JR: He blew the hand off the clown.
JC: Technically, I believe the hand exploded.
JR: That's what I said.
Suddenly, the giant hand falls from the rafters.
BONK.
It lands directly on One Really Big Hand Clown.
He disappears underneath it.
Tuck looks down.
He looks at the referee.
He looks at the crowd.
Then he reaches over and picks up the banana from the floor.
He peels it.
Takes one bite.
And walks away.
JC: WHAT A MATCH!
JR: That's Kentucky toughness.
JC: Joe, you cannot possibly explain what just happened through Kentucky toughness.
JR: I just did.
JC: THE MAN'S HAND EXPLODED!
JR: Exactly.
JC: AND SHOT INTO THE SKY!
JR: That's what happens when you slap a guy from Kentucky.
JC: I don't think that's medically—
JR: Don't question Kentucky.
The camera cuts to the ceiling.
The enormous severed hand is still floating away into the Texas night sky.
It gives one final thumbs-up.
JC: Folks, this is the first night of Relentless and that also means the first night of what may change the XWF forever! Or at the very least, who’s running the company!
JR: OR! Ownership is going to stay exactly the same, and all that’s gonna change is we’re gonna see Scoops McGee induct ELON MUSK Into the Hall of Legends! Where he belongs, might I add!
Oswald stands amidst an indie metal band, watching the ring, looking at the band. Soon a choir is heard as the band begins to play his theme song. He walks towards the lead guitarist, clapping him gently on the back so as to not mess up her playing. Oswald, walks down the ramp, the bottom of his white cloak dragging along the ground. Once at the ring, he'd leap onto the apron before launching himself to show how strong and agile he was to lift such mass with such ease right over the top rope and de-cloaked himself, placing it in his corner before stretching out his arms in a lower case t and roaring out to the crowd before going and sitting on top of his cloak, awaiting the bell as he mentally plans out the match, as well as how to try and beat his opponent.
JC: Mister Oz! One of the biggest, strongest tanks in the XWF! An absolute powerhouse!
BAMA: He’s a damn BEAST, Toddrick! He’ll leave that Fetu in a body bag! He’s hearing all this yeet, yeet, yeet nonsense and he’s like “oooh, so?”
TODD: Breaking the Fourth Wall there, Bama.
BAMA: I have no idea what you’re referring to.[/blue]
…
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 high seas, culminating as the drums kick in. As they do, the steadfast figure of Scoops McGee comes out onto the deck, a look of no nonsense etched onto his face as he takes a long look at the crowd and the pirate ship.
[white]JC: There he is! Scoops McGee! This year he won War Games! He won King of the XWF! He won the Universal Title!
JR: And now look at him! He doesn’t have the pull in this company to keep his goofy little cameraman friend employed!
JC: I’ll reframe what my colleague just said, but, in a bit of unsavory mind games, the Trillionaires fired Scoops’ long-time friend, Noah, who’d been Scoops’ cameraman for his promos for over a year… just to piss Scoops off. Well, it worked! If it wasn’t personal before, you know it’s personal for Scoops now! He wants to rip this company out of the Trillionaire’s hands and give it back to the fans!
Scoops nods, steadily walking to the center of the deck and absentmindedly high-fiving any fans or… pirates… or pirate ghosts? stretching out their hands who happen to be right in his way. He makes his way over to ringside, climbing up the steps of the ship methodically and stepping onto the deck. He saunters about, 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 slamming his forearm against his palm.
Scoops skulks over to his corner, pacing there and doing some small stretches to keep himself warmed up before the match begins.
…
The bell rings with Mark Zuckerberg stationed in Mister Oz’s corner, clutching a tablet against his chest. Across ringside, Elon Musk watches beside his own champion, the black-clad and mysterious @getouttamyringerson. The Ninja’s attention is fixed entirely on Oz—and on the scar left by the meathook Oz drove through him during their last encounter.
Scoops McGee rolls his shoulders and raises his fists.
Oz simply smiles.
JC: “This is the first stage of an almost impossible weekend for Scoops McGee! Three nights, three champions, and three opportunities to dismantle the Trillionaires’ control of the XWF!”
JR: “But if Scoops can’t do it, he has to personally induct Elon Musk into the Hall of Legends. And look at Oz! That guy doesn’t look like Zuckerberg’s champion—he looks like Zuckerberg summoned him straight from the bowels of Hell!”
JC: “That’s not a nice thing to call Chicago, Joe!”
DING DING!
Scoops McGee
- vs -
Mister Oz If Scoops loses, he has to induct Elon Musk into the Hall of Legends,
If Scoops wins, Mark Zuckerberg MUST SELL HIS XWF OWNERSHIP
The moment the bell rings, Oz explodes from his corner with a shoulder tackle!
Scoops hits the canvas hard. Before the sixty-four-year-old can rise, Oz hammers a knee into his ribs, drags him upright, and launches him across the ring with a hip toss. Scoops lands on his back and instinctively rolls toward the ropes, but Oz races after him—
BIG BOOT!
Scoops tumbles between the ropes and crashes to the floor!
Zuckerberg applauds with a tight, mechanical rhythm. The Ninja remains motionless beside Musk, but Oz leans through the ropes and stares directly at him.
“YOU FAILED ME!”
The Ninja’s cybernetic red eye scans as Oz barks over the rope at him.
JC: Well, if you thought it was all water under the bridge between these two, think again!
JR: Shut your mouth, Jacuinde! This is healthy competition! This is two elite athletes, hand-picked by the trillionaires, engaging in some chatter designed to push each other beyond their limits!
Oz continues to mean-mug the Ninja, gripping the top rope, as if inviting him to take a beating like Scoops is…
But Oz’s fixation costs him!
Scoops reaches through the ropes, snatches Oz’s ankle, and yanks his legs out from beneath him! Oz’s face strikes the canvas. Scoops pulls him outside and rattles him with a stiff left forearm!
Oz staggers.
A second left forearm knocks him against the barricade!
Scoops draws back for a third, but Oz surges forward with a striking spear, driving Scoops spine-first into the edge of the ring!
The old man crumples.
JC: “Oz just folded Scoops McGee around the ring apron!”
JR: “That’s a sixty-four-year-old spine, Jacuinde! Pain tolerance doesn’t make your vertebrae younger!”
Oz rolls Scoops inside and covers.
ONE!
TWO—
Scoops kicks out.
Oz immediately traps Scoops in a bear hug and wrenches him off the mat. Scoops grimaces as Oz squeezes the air from his lungs. His boots dangle above the canvas. The official asks if he wants to submit.
Scoops answers by biting Oz on the forehead!
Oz bellows and loosens his grip. Scoops drops to his feet and swings the left forearm—
Oz catches his arm.
GORILLA PRESS GUTBUSTER!
Scoops folds across Oz’s knee and rolls away clutching his stomach. Oz stalks behind him, waiting for the veteran to push himself upright.
Oz charges.
Scoops collapses deliberately, sending Oz sailing over him and shoulder-first into the ring post!
The old veteran did not overpower Oz. He did not outrun him. He simply knew where Oz would be before Oz did.
Scoops drags himself up with the ropes. Every breath hurts, but when Oz staggers backward, Scoops catches him with an inverted atomic drop! Oz reels into a snapmare, and Scoops drives a running boot directly into the seated Oz’s spine!
Oz arches in pain.
Scoops hits the ropes and connects with a running elbow to the jaw!
ONE!
TWO!
Oz powers out, throwing Scoops off his chest.
Scoops rolls to his knees, breathing heavily. The match has barely begun to stretch, but his lungs are already betraying him. Oz sees it. A cruel smile spreads across his face.
Oz drives a high knee into Scoops’ chest. He follows with a dropkick that knocks Scoops into the corner, then races across the ring—
RUNNING CROSSBODY!
Scoops is crushed against the turnbuckles.
Oz hooks him around the waist and plants him with a Double A Spinebuster!
ONE!
TWO!
THR—NO!
Scoops throws up a shoulder!
Zuckerberg’s applause stops.
Oz pulls Scoops upright and hoists him vertically above the canvas. He holds the old man upside down—and begins performing squats.
One.
Two.
Three.
Each one forces more blood toward Scoops’ skull. Oz holds him there long enough to make the demonstration feel less like wrestling and more like ritual humiliation.
But Scoops drives a knee down into Oz’s head!
Oz loses his balance. Scoops slips behind him and lands on his feet. Oz turns—
**CATTLE PROD!**
The short-arm left forearm lands flush!
Oz’s legs buckle, but he does not fall. Scoops maintains wrist control and pulls him into another!
**CATTLE PROD!**
Oz drops to one knee.
Scoops takes two steps backward and charges for a lariat—
PELE KICK!
Oz’s boot catches Scoops beneath the chin!
Scoops drops like he has been shot.
Oz climbs the turnbuckles, staring down at the unmoving veteran. He throws himself into the Boone Bomb—
SCOOPS ROLLS AWAY!
Oz completes both side flips but finds nothing beneath him except canvas!
Scoops crawls toward Oz and applies the **MERRY-GO-ROUND!**
The spinning toe hold twists Oz’s leg beneath him!
Oz claws at the canvas, suddenly trapped in the exact kind of fight he does not understand. He tries to kick Scoops away, but the veteran anticipates it and rotates again, applying even more pressure to Oz’s knee!
Zuckerberg shouts instructions from ringside.
Oz does not know how to follow them.
He reaches for the ropes, misses, and tries to push himself upright. Scoops twists again. Oz roars in pain—but finally uses his free leg to kick Scoops squarely in the mouth.
Scoops staggers backward with blood on his lip.
Oz rises awkwardly. Scoops charges, but Oz scoops him into a body slam position. Scoops wriggles free and lands behind him!
BACK SUPLEX!
Oz crashes onto his shoulders!
Scoops climbs through the ropes and carefully begins ascending the turnbuckles. The crowd rises as the old hardcore legend reaches the top.
PRAIRIE DOG!
THE DIVING BULLDOG DRIVES OZ FACE-FIRST INTO THE CANVAS!
Scoops rolls Oz over!
ONE!
TWO!
THR—
OZ KICKS OUT!
Scoops stares at the referee, then nods. No complaint. No disbelief. Just the acceptance that he has to hurt Oz more.
Zuckerberg, however, has seen enough.
He unlocks his tablet and rapidly swipes through a series of controls. Around the ring, the LED boards flicker. The referee presses a hand against his earpiece as an artificial voice begins feeding him counterfeit instructions from “XWF production.”
The referee turns toward the timekeeper, trying to determine whether the bell has malfunctioned.
Scoops hauls Oz into position for the Big Scoop.
Zuckerberg taps the screen.
Every ringside LED panel erupts in a synchronized burst of blinding white light!
Scoops recoils, shielding his eyes.
JC: “Zuckerberg just hijacked the production system!”
JR: “That flash could have burned Scoops’ retinas out!”
Oz strikes from behind with a forearm to the base of the skull. Scoops drops to his knees. Zuckerberg kills the lights and returns the tablet to his chest just as the official turns around.
Oz seizes Scoops by the jaw.
His fingers force their way into the veteran’s mouth.
**I FAILED YOU!**
The Mandible Claw is locked in!
Scoops thrashes, but Oz forces him backward toward the canvas. The old man’s legs weaken. His shoulders sink closer to the mat while Oz’s fingers dig beneath his tongue and his thumb crushes into the soft tissue under his jaw.
Zuckerberg screams for him to finish it.
At ringside, the Ninja finally moves.
@getouttamyringerson slides along the apron, reaches beneath the bottom rope, and hooks Oz’s ankle.
A violent tug rips Oz’s leg out from underneath him!
Oz falls backward and loses the claw!
The referee sees Scoops recoil but does not see the Ninja disappear around the corner. Elon Musk stares at his champion in disbelief. The Ninja offers him no explanation.
Oz scrambles upright, his eyes blazing behind him.
Scoops is waiting.
He hooks Oz.
Lifts him with the last reservoir of strength in his body—
**THE BIG SCOOP!**
THE SCOOP SLAM PILEDRIVER SPIKES OZ INTO THE CANVAS!
Scoops collapses across Oz’s chest!
ONE!
Zuckerberg lunges toward the ring!
TWO!
The Ninja steps directly into Zuckerberg’s path.
THREE!
**DING! DING! DING!**
Winner: Scoops McGee
Mark Zuckerberg must now SELL HIS XWF OWNERSHIP STAKE!
JC:“SCOOPS DID IT! SCOOPS McGEE HAS WON THE FIRST MATCH OF HIS RELENTLESS GAUNTLET!”
JR: “And Mark Zuckerberg is finished! Scoops just ripped one-third of the Trillionaires’ ownership away from them!”
Scoops rolls off Oz and lies on his back, staring into the Relentless lights as the audience celebrates around him. He has survived the first night—but his labored breathing and battered ribs make the cost painfully apparent.
Zuckerberg looks from Oz to the Ninja, realizing his champion has failed and his ownership must now be sold. Elon Musk angrily confronts @getouttamyringerson, but the Ninja brushes past him and slides beneath the bottom rope.
Oz has only just pushed himself onto his hands and knees.
The Ninja grabs him by the back of the neck and throws him through the ropes!
Oz lands beside the steel steps. Before he can recover, the Ninja drives a succession of kicks into his ribs. Oz tries to rise, but @getouttamyringerson slams his face against the top step and leaves him sprawled facedown across the steel.
The Ninja climbs onto the apron.
He looks down at the man who pierced him with a meathook.
Then he leaps.
FACEDOWN AXE KICK!
The Ninja’s heel crashes into the back of Oz’s skull, driving his face against the steel steps with a sickening metallic clang!
Oz goes limp.
JC: So much for friendly competition between Trillionaire champions, Joe! It looks like @getouttamyringerson kept a receipt for Oz’s beatdown and just paid him back… With interest!
JR: …No, I just figured it out. This is all part of Elon’s master plan! You’ll see, Jacuinde, it’s going to fruition when we least expect it!
Officials flood ringside, but @getouttamyringerson calmly steps away from the wreckage. He looks toward Zuckerberg, then Elon Musk, making certain both Trillionaires understand what they have just witnessed.
TODD: Our next match promises to be explosive, Bama!
BAMA: You ain’ foolin’ one lick, Toddrick! Both these men are all about flash! They’ll dazzle ya while they razzle ya!
TODD: But tonight it’s not about who’s the better showman, it’s about who’s walking away with a win at Relentless!
Main Event Ish hits and he walks out behind the XWF Universe wearing an Yeet Sunglasses and a Yeet shirt with a Fetu logo on the side of his pants and a Yeet on the right side and he makes a stop near the steps and raise his hands up and wave'em his Yeet hands and the Universe was following him and they were doing it alone side with him and he kepts on walking down the stairs and slapping kids and adults high five and making his way down the ring…
TODD: There he is! Main Event Jay Fetu
BAMA: Yates!
TODD: Not even close, Bama. Just a few weeks ago, we saw Jay Fetu become #1 contender for the Blade Championship by beating Latoya Hixx… but then he lost that position just a few short weeks ago by losing to Deena Hixx!
BAMA: Now Deena gets to take on John Blade with the Blade Championship Blade!
TODD: But Jay is still here! And he’s still out to prove why the world calls him ‘Main Event’ Jay Fetu!
Jay walks toward the ring, slapping hands along the way.
Jey climbs over the barricade and sees two Commentary of Todd and Bama slapping hands aloneside with Jey Fetu and he gets inside of the ring in climbs on the top rope and continues waving his Yeet hands towards the Universe and he gets down and the XWF Universe shouts replay it once more and he does and gets right back up on the top rope and repeat the same Yeeting with the Universe and hops down and music fades and waits for his Opponent to appear…
…
As “Bigger Than Everything” hits, Kenny walks onto the stage wearing his signature shades with a confident grin. He takes a moment to soak in the crowd before making his way to the ring…
TODD: And there he is! TOO FLY, Kenny Styles! The self-proclaimed Michael Jackson of wrestling. And I believe he means in terms of being an entertainment icon, not… you know, the other stuff about Michael Jackson.
BAMA: What, you mean being eccentric? Like owning a monkey? Kenny seems out there, but he’s a fine young man.
TODD: No, the other thing about Michael Jackson.
BAMA: …His penchant for pepsi commercials?
TODD: …Bama, don’t make me say it. The stuff about… kids?
BAMA: …Ohhhhhh. You mean holding his son out the window?
TODD: …I’m going to stop talking to you about this now.
Kenny starts slapping hands with fans along the barricade. At ringside, he jumps onto the apron and springboards over the top rope before climbing the second turnbuckle and throwing his arms out with a smile.
Styles stretches out his legs in the corner like a sprinter ready to take off… On the opposite side of the ring, Fetu is flicking down his stunner shades, muttering the word ‘YEET’ to himself.
The bell rings!
Jay Fetu
- vs -
Kenny Styles Singles
—and Kenny Styles immediately shoots across the ring.
DROPKICK!
Jay Fetu staggers backward into the ropes, and Kenny is already moving before Fetu can recover.
Kenny hits the opposite ropes.
SUICIDE DIVE!
TODD: “Kenny Styles wasting absolutely no time! He is trying to overwhelm ‘Main Event’ Jay Fetu from the opening bell!”
Fetu catches Kenny!
For half a second, it looks like Styles has made a terrible mistake.
Then Kenny slips free, lands on his feet, and springs onto the apron.
GATE CLOSED!
BAMA: “HEY! THAT AIN’T SHOWBOATIN’, THAT’S JUST HIM BEIN’ TOO STUPID TO STAY ON THE GROUND!”
Fetu ducks underneath the springboard forearm, and Kenny crashes chest-first across the ropes!
Fetu grabs him from behind—
NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!
Kenny rolls through the landing, pops back up—
SUPERKICK!
Fetu’s head snaps sideways!
But he doesn't fall, he stands there looking dazed…
TODD: That kick hit Fetu so fast, I think Fetu doesn’t even know why his head hurts and why his body wants to go down!
Styles smiles confidently, raising up a pair of peace signs up to the crowd…
TOO FLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
Styles backs toward the ropes, building up speed toward a dazed Fetu…
He goes for an ankle-targetting…
BASEBALL SLIDE!
…But Fetu snaps to and leaps over!
Styles, with the grace of a dancer, flows from a slide kick to a front somersault, bounces off the ropes, back towards his opponent…
…
STRAIGHT INTO A FETU SPEAR!
TODD: Fetu was ready!
…
NO!
Kenny barely leaps over it!
BAMA: Holy cow! Kenny’s got reflexes like a damn hummin’bird!
Fetu goes underneath him and smashes shoulder-first into the corner.
Kenny lands behind him.
PELE KICK!
Fetu stumbles out of the corner.
SLING BLADE!
Fetu hits the mat!
TODD: Kenny is feeling it now! We could see Styles secure his first ever Relentless win in his young XWF career!!
He climbs to the second rope, looks toward the crowd, spreads his arms…
He puts up his peace signs again to the crowd…
TOO FLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
But as Styles is basking in the crowd’s reaction, Fetu is already back on his feet…
Jay surges forward and grabs Kenny by the ankle.
TODD: “That showboating may have cost Kenny Styles!”
Fetu yanks him off the ropes!
SAMOAN DROP!
Kenny crashes hard.
Fetu doesn't cover.
Instead, he pounds his fist against his chest.
BAMA: “THAT'S IT! HE'S GONNA YEET THIS BOY!”
Fetu waits.
Kenny pulls himself upright.
Fetu charges—
SAMOAN WRECKING BALL DOUBLE SUPERKICK!
Both feet connect!
Kenny tumbles backward!
ONE!
TWO!
Kenny kicks out!
Fetu sits upright, staring at the referee in disbelief.
TODD: “Kenny Styles survives! He has taken some tremendous punishment, but resilience is one of the young man's greatest attributes!”
Fetu angrily pulls Kenny up.
He hooks him for another suplex—
Kenny slips behind!
BOARDING PASS!
Fetu's back slams into the canvas!
Kenny immediately kips up.
The crowd erupts.
BAMA: “LOOK AT THIS SHOW-OFF!”
Kenny points toward the top rope.
He climbs.
TURBULENCE!
Styles launches!
Corkscrew…
…
NO!
Fetu rolls away!
Kenny crashes stomach-first into the canvas!
TODD: “Styles went for everything and got nothing!”
Fetu is already up.
Kenny rolls over, clutching his ribs.
Fetu sees the opening! He scrambles up to the top rope! He rubs his stunner shades clear!
YEET! YEET! YEET
FETU SPLASH—
NO!
Kenny gets his knees up!
Fetu crashes into them!
TODD: Fetu eats knees!
BAMA: These guys are so into their own catchphrases, they’re not taking a WIN! Stop saying your catchphrases, just jump on the other fella til they’re DOWN, son!
Both men roll away.
Kenny reaches the ropes first.
Fetu follows.
They rise at nearly the same time.
Kenny charges—
SPRINGBOARD CROSSBODY!
Fetu catches him!
He holds Kenny across his chest!
Kenny elbows free! Fetu drops Kenny onto the mat, but Kenny secures a front facelock…
He spins!
TORNADO DDT!
Fetu's head hits the mat so hard, he actually bounces back onto his feet!
Kenny scrambles up!
BRAINBUSTER!
Fetu gets planted!
Kenny hooks the leg!
ONE!
TWO!
NO! Fetu kicks out!
Kenny slaps the mat.
TODD: How the hell did that not finish Jay!
BAMA: If he wants to be the Michael Jackson of wrestling, Kenny needs to go bigger! MJ always went bigger!
TODD: …*sigh*... not always, Bama.
Kenny cranks his neck…
Then at Fetu.
Then toward the crowd.
Peace signs!
TOOOOOOO FLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
TODD: “Kenny Styles knows he may have to put everything on the line here!”
Kenny pulls Fetu up.
He hooks both arms.
FIRST CLASS!
TODD: He's got it! He’s gonna finish it… wait!
Fetu fights!
Kenny tries to lift—
Fetu's legs kick wildly!
He shifts his weight!
Kenny loses control!
Fetu powers upward—
BACK BODY DROP!
Kenny goes sailing!
He lands hard on his back!
Fetu rolls through the impact, climbs to his feet, and sees Kenny struggling to sit upright.
Fetu's expression changes.
The cockiness is gone.
The temper is gone.
There is only one thing in his mind.
YEET.
Kenny turns around.
SUPERKICK!
BAMA: “YEAAAAAAAAAAET!”
TODD: …Did you just try to say ‘yeah’ and ‘yeet’ at the same time? It almost worked!
Kenny's head snaps backward!
He collapses!
Fetu drops to one knee, breathing heavily.
Then he looks toward the top rope.
The crowd knows what's coming.
TODD: “Jay Fetu is going upstairs! This could be the exclamation point that ends this sentence!”
Fetu climbs.
One foot.
Then the other.
He reaches the top.
Kenny is motionless in the center of the ring.
Fetu stands tall.
FETU SPLASH!
BOOM!
Fetu crashes down across Kenny's chest!
The ring shakes!
Fetu hooks both legs!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Winner: ‘Main Event’ Jay Fetu
TODD: “HE GOT HIM! ‘MAIN EVENT’ JAY FETU HAS DEFEATED ‘TOO FLY’ KENNY STYLES!”
BAMA: “ONE STRIKE! ONE YEET! ONE SPLASH! THAT'S ALL IT TAKES, TODD!”
Fetu rolls onto his back, exhausted but grinning.
Kenny remains down beside him.
Fetu slowly gets to his feet.
He throws one arm into the air.
TODD: “Kenny Styles took every risk he could possibly take tonight, but in the end, Jay Fetu's power, aggression, and that devastating Superkick proved to be too much!”
BAMA: “WRITE IT DOWN, TODD! MAIN EVENT JAY FETU! HE TOLD YA—ONE YEET!”
Fetu points to himself.
Then makes the familiar gesture.
YEET.
The crowd erupts as ‘Main Event’ Jay Fetu takes the win.
TODD: Folks, this is a major one! The Blade Championship Blade is on the line in a two-out-of-three falls match!
BAMA: And both these competitors have proven themselves the best-of-the-best in the Blade division!
TODD: But only one can walk out with that big golden blade around their waist tonight!
BAMA: You don’t wear a blade around your waist, Toddrick. It’s on your hip… typically in a scabbard.[/white]
Let's light it up hits, and Deena Hixx comes out from behind the curtains and walks out on stage and skips on down the aisle and skips around the ring.
[blue]TODD: When Deena Hixx had her underdog run to the finals of the first-ever Blade Championship Blade one-night tournament, it felt like the clock struck midnight when she lost to John Blade!
BAMA: But she demanded another shot! And moreover, Toddy baby? She earned it! The Number One Contender, ‘Main Event’ Jay Fetu, was running his mouth, challenging other champions in the XWF instead of trying to cash in the shot he had in his hand. And Warfare GM made him defend that shot against Deena Hixx! And the Crazy Chick scored yet another shot for the Blade Championship Blade!
TODD: Majorly impressive! Deena has proven her run to the finals at Bad Medicine wasn’t a fluke! That she belongs near the top of the Blade Division!
BAMA: But there’s a world of difference between belonging NEAR the top and belonging AT the top! And to prove she belongs AT the top, she’s gotta beat the ONE MAN who stopped her last time from going all the way![/white]
The Time is now hit's as he walks out on stage. “The Surgeon of Thug” John Blade talks to the cameraman and bounces a little. He holds up his “Never Give Up” logo flag and tosses it to the f-... wait, no fans over on that side. He just tossed it into the abyss. Regardless, he salutes and runs straight down towards the platform!
TODD: There he is! The “Surgeon of Thug”! The “Chain Gang”! John Blade! THE WIELDER OF THE BLADE CHAMPIONSHIP BLADE! John Blade has been untouchable since the announcement of the Blade Championship Blade! He’s gone undefeated!
BAMA: But with that streak comes an air of cockiness! John will talk about Deena being on his level… but in the next breath, act like her rage locks her beneath him! He knows he beat Deena last time for the Blade… Is he taking this one seriously?
TODD: John Blade takes every match seriously, Joe! And this one is no different! But Deena has raised her game! Can John Blade roll with the blade!?!
John Blade stands tall, raising the Blade Championship Blade high for the crowd to see, before entrusting it to the referee outside the ring. Blade’s jaw is set in stubborn determination. His eyes never leave Deena Hixx as he slowly raises one finger and points directly at the center of the mat.
[white]TODD: "John Blade is telling Deena right now! This is his ring!”
BAMA: "That’s exactly Deena’s problem with John, Toddrick. He acts like he gets to decide where her place is. If Deena’s gonna break up the boy’s club that she sees in the Blade Division, she’s gotta take John’s ring from him… by FORCE!"
Across from him, Deena narrows his eyes. She shrieks into a hideous cackle and immediately circles the champion...
TODD: Oh, here we go! Right into it!
Blade Championship Blade
Deena Hixx
- vs -
John Blade Two out of Three Falls Match/stip]
The bell rang, and John Blade immediately raised both arms.
The reaction was enormous.
The children in the arena screamed for him. The older fans answered with a wall of boos. John soaked it all in with a grin, turning toward one side of the arena and throwing up the familiar gesture.
TODD: “There is absolutely no question that John Blade knows how to command a room.”
BAMA: “Command a room? Boy, he IS the room.”
Across from him, Deena Hixx bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet.
She wasn't looking at the crowd.
She was looking at John.
TODD: “And Deena Hixx has been waiting for this opportunity. Remember, she believes John Blade has been keeping her away from what she calls her ‘precious.’”
BAMA: “Well, I don't know what she's talking about half the time, Todd, but I know this much. She'd better get serious.”
John crooked a finger at her.
Deena's eyes narrowed.
She took off.
John planted himself.
Deena changed direction so violently that John actually turned his shoulders the wrong way.
TODD: “Oh!”
Deena flew past him, rebounded off the ropes, and came back at a completely different angle.
John swung.
Nothing.
Deena ducked underneath the blow, hit the opposite ropes, and came back with a low dropkick directly into John's knee.
The champion stumbled.
Deena immediately hit the other knee.
John dropped to one knee.
Deena grinned.
Then she ran.
She hit the ropes, came flying back, and blasted John with another low dropkick.
TODD: “Deena is using that incredible speed exactly as she needs to! She's not trying to overpower John Blade—she's making him chase her!”
BAMA: “Yeah, and John Blade is letting her. John’s playing right into her hands, not because he doesn’t see the trap, but because he thinks he can walk right through it.”
John got back up.
Deena was already gone.
She slipped behind him and hooked an arm.
Arm drag.
John hit the mat.
Deena sprang up.
Another arm drag.
John rolled to his feet.
Deena was already behind him.
A third.
The crowd erupted.
Deena popped up and spread her arms.
TODD: “She has found something that works!”
BAMA: “That's the problem.”
TODD: “What do you mean?”
BAMA: “She found something that works. Knowing her, she’s gonna spam that move until it stops working!”
John charged.
Deena sidestepped.
John crashed into the turnbuckles.
Deena sprinted toward him.
Hurricanrana!
John was sent rolling across the canvas.
Deena popped to her feet and immediately started celebrating.
John sat up.
He looked annoyed.
Deena laughed.
She pointed at him.
“COME ON!”
The crowd lights it up as John plants his hands on his hips, looking irritated.
TODD: Deena not only looks poised and ready… she’s taking some of the crowd on her side!
John charged again.
Deena ducked.
He stopped himself before hitting the corner.
Deena tried another arm drag.
John landed on his feet.
He turned.
Deena hit another.
The champion rolled through.
Deena hit another.
John rolled through again.
The crowd was roaring now.
Deena was getting faster.
She hit the ropes and came back with a spinning heel kick.
John staggered.
Deena grabbed him.
Wheelbarrow bulldog!
John's face bounced off the canvas.
TODD: “Deena Hixx is putting together one of the most impressive stretches we've ever seen from her!”
BAMA “And John Blade is gettin' mad.”
He was.
John pushed himself up.
Deena was waiting.
She slapped him across the face.
The arena gasped.
Deena laughed.
John's eyes hardened.
He lunged.
Deena escaped again.
She hit the ropes.
John turned.
Deena flew.
Diving crossbody!
John caught her.
TODD: “WAIT!”
For one glorious second, John had her.
Deena's eyes widened.
Then she wriggled free.
She landed behind him.
Arm drag!
John crashed down.
Deena jumped up.
Another arm drag.
John hit the mat.
Deena looked at him.
Then she did it again.
BAMA “Oh my god, DO SOMETHING ELSE!.”
Deena tried for the fourth.
John was ready.
He caught her.
Deena's eyes went wide.
John hoisted her into the air.
SPINEBUSTER!
The ring shook.
TODD: “GOODNESS!”
BAMA: “I will stab my own eyes out if I see another arm drag from Deena Hixx tonight.”
John rolled over, breathing heavily.
Deena scrambled toward the ropes.
John stood.
Deena saw him coming.
She slipped underneath his arm.
He turned.
She was already running.
John swung.
She ducked.
Deena rebounded.
Low dropkick!
John stumbled.
Deena sprinted after him.
She hit another.
John dropped to one knee.
Deena bounced off the ropes again.
John reached for her.
She stopped dead.
John's hands grabbed nothing.
Deena smiled.
She darted behind him.
Hurricanrana!
John crashed down.
Deena immediately climbed to the top rope.
John was getting up.
She launched.
DIVING CROSSBODY!
Cover!
John’s feet kick wildly…
ONE!
Deena’s putting all her body weight across his shoulders!
TWO!
John manhandles her off him!
…
JUST AFTER THREE!
DEENA HIXX - 1
JOHN BLADE - 0
The bell rang.
TODD: “OH MY GOD! DEENA Hixx has taken the first fall! Deena Hixx just pinned John Blade!
BAMA: …THAT just changed things! John Blade may be the champ for now… but he has to beat Deena in TWO STRAIGHT FALLS now to leave with that belt!
Deena rolled away and jumped to her feet.
She screamed.
She pointed at John.
Then she pointed at herself.
BAMA: “John Blade just got caught sleepin'. He underestimated that little Ferrari, and now he's down one fall.”
TODD: “One fall to none in this two-out-of-three-falls championship match!”
John sat against the ropes.
He looked furious.
Deena danced across the ring.
She mouthed something toward him.
Then she mimed falling asleep.
John slowly stood.
His expression changed.
The smile disappeared.
The second fall began.
Deena sprinted forward.
John didn't move.
She changed direction.
John stepped sideways.
Deena stopped.
She darted left.
John stepped left.
She went right.
John stepped right.
TODD: “John Blade isn't chasing her. He’s closing the distance, but he’s not trying to match her pace.”
BAMA: “Finally.”
Deena's smile faded.
She backed away.
John followed.
Not quickly.
Just enough.
Deena ran toward the ropes.
John moved into the lane.
She changed direction.
He moved again.
Deena tried to slip around him.
John caught her.
Deena's eyes widened.
John launched her with a brutal belly-to-back throw.
Deena hit the mat and rolled.
John didn't follow.
He waited.
Deena rose.
John moved toward her.
She sprinted past.
John stepped into her path.
Deena bounced off the ropes.
John ducked low.
Deena jumped.
John caught her out of the air.
TODD: “Oh, no!”
BAMA: “It’s like John stopped letting his kid sister have fun. It’s winnin’ time, Toddy baby!”
John spun.
SPIN-OUT POWERBOMB!
Deena folded against the canvas.
John covered.
ONE!
Deena is immobile on the mat…
TWO!
…
THREE!
The bell rang.
DEENA HIXX - 1
JOHN BLADE - 1
TODD: “John Blade has tied it!”
BAMA: “And feel the difference in energy in this arena right now, Toddrick? After that first fall, the arena thought Deena could pull it off! That second fall? It was like John checked the ‘Win’ box on a form. Entirely in his control!”
TODD: “Deena’s definitely got her work cut out for her if she’s going to win this one now!”
John stood over Deena.
He didn't taunt her.
He simply looked down.
Deena crawled toward the ropes.
John grabbed her ankle.
She kicked.
He caught the other leg.
Deena twisted.
John tried to haul her back.
She slipped free.
She ran.
John didn't chase.
He stepped into position.
Deena turned.
John hit a leaping shoulder block.
Deena flipped through the air.
John was on her immediately.
Spinebuster.
Cover.
ONE!
TWO!
Deena kicked out.
John sat up.
The champion shook his head.
Deena rolled toward the ropes.
John grabbed her again.
She elbowed him.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
John staggered.
Deena sprang to her feet.
She hit a spinning heel kick.
John stumbled.
Deena saw it.
Her eyes lit up.
She hit another.
John stumbled again.
Deena hit another.
BAMA: “Here she goes again.”
TODD: “And it's working! Deena’s wresting control of this one out of John’s fingers!”
Deena hit another spinning heel kick.
John caught her leg.
Deena froze.
John yanked her toward him.
Deena crashed chest-first into his shoulder.
Running neck snap!
She crumpled.
John dragged her up.
White Noise onto the side of the mat!
BAMA: Ballgame! Good show, Deena, better luck next time!
The champion covered, hooking both Deena’s legs…
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
…
BUT DEENA GRABBED THE ROPE BEFORE THREE!
TODD: Deena survives! No three-count!
John stands up, raising his arms for the crowd!
…Before the official turns him around, pointing to Deena’s hand on the rope!
John's frustration returned.
Deena rolled onto her stomach.
John grabbed her.
She escaped.
She ran.
John stepped into her path.
Deena changed direction.
John cut her off.
She changed again.
John cut her off again.
TODD: “This is remarkable. John Blade has completely changed his approach.”
BAMA: “That's called learnin', Todd. It’s what separates champs from challengers!”
TODD: “Deen’a adjusting her approach just as well, Bama!”
John cuts her off tighter every time Deena shifts, closing the distance tighter and tighter…
Deena finally saw an opening.
She went for it.
Low dropkick!
John moved.
Deena hit nothing.
John grabbed her.
She kicked wildly.
He caught her.
Deena tried an arm drag.
BAMA: Oh my God…
John blocked it.
She tried again.
He blocked it.
BAMA: Please…
A third time.
BAMA: STOP DOING ARM DRAGS, DEENA.
John caught her around the waist.
Deena realized the mistake.
John lifted.
EMERALD FLOWSION!
The arena erupted.
TODD: That’s GOTTA DO IT!
John covered.
ONE!
TWO!
THREEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
DEENA KICKS OUT!
TODD: “NO WAY! Deena kicked out!”
John's eyes widened.
BAMA “Now THAT's somethin'.”
John sat back.
Deena was barely moving.
The referee checked on her.
She pushed herself upright.
John stood.
He pointed toward her.
Deena staggered to her feet.
John charged.
Deena ducked.
John hit the ropes.
Deena ran.
John turned.
Deena hit the hurricanrana.
John rolled through.
Deena stood.
She tried another.
John caught her.
Deena scrambled.
She slipped free.
She hit the ropes.
Low dropkick.
John stumbled.
Deena hit the ropes again.
Low dropkick.
Again.
Again.
Again.
BAMA: “She's doin' it again!”
TODD: “It worked earlier!”
BAMA: “And John knows it now!”
Deena charged.
Diving crossbody!
…
AND ONCE MORE, SHE’S CAUGHT!
The arena gasped.
John heaves Deena up from a powerslam position onto his shoulders!
…
Deena’s arms and legs wrapped around John's shoulders!
TODD: This is how Deena beat Latoya! This is how she reached the finals of the first Blade Championship Blade Tournament! The Mousetrap!
THE MOUSETRAP!
Deena pulls herself back with all she’s got to rip John’s shoulders against the mat!
But John didn't fall.
His legs remained planted.
Deena's smile disappeared.
TODD: Uh oh… Blade was ready!
BAMA: Of course he is! He literally countered this last time they faced off the exact same way! What was Deena thinking?
John shifted his weight.
As Deena pulled backwards, John suddenly rolled backward!
Deena's eyes widened.
The momentum carried her over.
But instead of landing the pin...
John used the roll, to wind up back on his feet!
Holding Deena in a Fireman's carry position.
The arena exploded.
Blade lifted…
DEATH!
VALLEY!
DROP!
…
……
But Deena turns in midair!
She lands on her feet!
John is shocked!
Deena latches onto his arm!
ARM DRAG!
BAMA: FOR FUCK’S SAKE!
TODD: Repetitive, but effective!
John gets launched across the ring! John scrambles woozily back to his feet…
…
RIGHT INTO A DEENA WIZARD!
CONNECTS! Deena’s boot hits John’s chin and it sounds like a THUNDERCLAP!
The crowd ERUPTS!
TODD: She hit it! SHE HIT IT!
BAMA: NO WAY! CAN IT BE?!?
John’s back hits the mat and Deena exhaustedly collapses backwards onto John!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Winner and NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW WIELDER OF THE BLADE CHAMPIONSHIP BLADE: DEENA HIXX!
TODD: OH MY GOD! DEENA HIXX! DEENA HIXX! DEENA HIXX!
BAMA: She did it! Deena Hixx beat John Blade!
As Deena exhaustedly crawls across the ring, the official kneels down to offer her the golden, gleaming Blade Championship Blade..
Deena snatches it, clutching it to her chest…
She rolls over, raising it to the ceiling, as she cackles maniacally…
TODD: Deena Hixx pulled it off! Deena Hixx is the new wielder of the Blade Championship Blade!
BAMA: God help everyone in the Blade Division. Deena was irritating as the challenger, talking about how everyone ignores her… imagine how she’ll be now that she’s the wielder of the Blade Championship Blade!
The scene opens to pre-recorded footage from a week prior. Three photographs sit against the Mile Marker. The photographs are of the Wicked Sisters— Abbey, Tessa, and Regina.
Beside them sits The Fourth Seat. A painting that Korvayne had painted in their memory…
Judd Hollow stood nearby, staring down at everything Korvayne has spent her entire XWF journey turning into a redemption story.
Malachi stepped into the scene beside him. An eyepatch now covers the eye Judd took. The Reverend is NOT holy…
Judd smiled.
“Tomorrow yer’ whole fifteen minutes are up, Julia.” He said as he picked up Abby’s photograph. “That’s the funny thing about fame, ain’t it? Eventually people quit carin’ about the story an’ start lookin’ at the motherfucker tellin’ it.”
Judd dropped the first photograph, watching it fall to the side of the road…
“An trust me, I looked. Yer ass has been carryin’ the same story since ya got here. Doesn’t yer’ ass get tired ah’ sayin yer doing this fer’ them?”
He points toward the photographs…
“If there’s anything’ we learnt about ya Korv, It’s that you only do fer’ you. Yer’ a selfish piece ah’ shit. Every fuckin’ thing you want somehow becomes somethin’ yer’ doin’ fer somebody else.”
He shook his head in disbelief…
“Funny how that works, ain’t it?”
“Ya want attention? It’s fer’ them. Ya want people hangin’ on every goddamn word ya say? It’s fer’ them. Ya want that championship around yer’ waist? Well, shit… that’s fer’ them too.” Judd paused, and then tapped his finger upon his temple.
“Ever wonder what they’d actually want?” Judd asked, as he picked up Regina’s photograph. He looked at it for a moment before tossing it back down.
“Nah.”
“Course ya fuckin’ haven’t.”
Malachi stepped closer. Judd pointed toward him and gave a malicious nod.
“See, Priest? That dere’… manipulation.”
Malachi’s one good eye remained fixed on the photographs.
“I’m familiar.” He said, as a smirk grew across his face.
Judd laughed…
“Goddamn right ya are!”
He turned back toward the camera.
“People are useful to you, Korv, only on yer’ damn terms tho. Livin’, dead… Don’t make much difference.” Judd scoffed, “They’re all just paint on yer’ fuckin’ brush.”
Judd crouched beside The Fourth Seat.
“You decide what they represent. You make em’ fit whatever fuckin’ narrative ya want…”
He spit upon the painting.
“Korv, fuck yer’ narrative an fuck yer’ friends!”
He looked down and unzipped his pants. Judd then began urinating across the photographs.
Judd watched all three of their pictures get soaked in urine before turning toward The Fourth Seat. He pissed directly across the painting, letting out a big sigh of relief.
Malachi didn’t interfere. If anything, The Reverend seemed entertained.
Judd finished and zipped himself up.
“There,” Judd said, as he nodded toward the mess. “Now ya got somethin’ new to paint about.”
Malachi laughed quietly…
“That’s the difference between me an’ you, Korvayne. I don’t pretend my selfishness is some fuckin’ act of love. I don’t pretend I want to rule the kingdom…”
“I hurt people because I want to...”
“I take things because I want ’em...”
“I took his fuckin’ eye…” Judd growled, pointing at Malachi. “…because I wanted him to understand who was in control.”
Malachi slowly smiled as Judd’s grin widened. He took another look down at HIS artwork…
“But you?”
“You need everybody believin’ there’s some beautiful reason behind every selfish fuckin’ thing you do.”
“Tomorrow there ain’t gonna be one. When I take that Xtreme Championship, don’t dedicate yer’ loss to Abbey. Don’t cry about Tessa— don’t tell The Wicked Sisters you’re sorry.”
Judd moved closer…
“Just admit that you wanted something…” Judd demanded, as he grilled the camera “…and I fuckin’ took it from you.”
CUT TO BLACK.
When Booyka 619 hit's El Landerson walks out on stage and kneels down on one knee and prays. He gets up and points to the Fans in Pyro fireworks burst open and switch to the other side of the stage in does the same thing in!
JC: El Landerson! The Bit Luchador! He’s made it clear in his promo his sights go beyond Judd Hollow! They go beyond Relentless! He’s thinking about getting next in line for the Television Title!
JR: In order for that to happen, Jacuinde, Landerson has to survive this match. Judd’s not just looking to take Landerson’s mask. He’s looking to take his LIFE.
JC: Can the ultimo underperro manage to shock the world and pin Judd Hollow?!?
JR: …Underperro?
after he was done he slowly walks down the ramp in slaps some little kids high fives and he stops and stares at the kid in hands him his Luchdor Mask to him and heads straight towards the ring and hops on the turnbuckle and pose both fingers in mid air and walks to the other side turnbuckle in does the same thing mid finger in the air in he gets down and wait for his Opponent arrive.
…
The arena surrenders to darkness…
A suffocating hush rolls over the crowd as the lights drain away one section at a time, until what remains is a low glow bathing the entrance stage in tones of ash-gray as that of ash itself falls upon the arena. The titantron flickers once… twice… then stabilizes into a grainy, distorted image of static and slow-moving shadows.
The opening strings of The Brothers Bright – “Blood On My Name” creep through the PA system…
A rhythm begins to form. The rhythm ismethodical, deliberate, like footsteps approaching…
The fog begins to raise from the floor, swallowing the ramp in seconds until nothing below the knees is visible. The stage becomes an altar of mist. It sets the tone as Father Malachi Graves steps out from behind the curtain in his typical reverend attire.
Rosary beads dangle from his fingers, swinging with each slow, deliberate step. He doesn’t look around. He doesn’t acknowledge the crowd. His gaze is fixed forward focused on the mission at hand.
He pauses at the top of the ramp, before giving a whisper upon the beads…
A dragging sound cuts through the music…
“There’s a reckonin’ a comin’.
And it burns beneath the grave…
With lead inside my belly,
Cause my soul has lost its way…”
Chains scraping metal…
Something heavy being pulled aggressively through the fog...
Judd Hollow steps into view, bare chest carved in inked sleeves that wrap his arms like scriptures of violence. Slightly torn camo pants hang loose, worn like they’ve survived too many nights that should’ve ended him. Heavy chains are draped across his shoulders, trailing down his back and dragging behind him as he walks.A bandana rests upon his head. From beneath it, bleached, uneven dreadlocks spill out—matted, worn, and almost lifeless in color…
”Oh, Lazarus, how did your debts get paid?
Oh, Lazarus, were you so afraid?”
Across his forehead he bares an inverted cross painted in thick black strokes. Smudged at the edges. His eyes are framed in dark paint, stretching beneath them like hollow sockets—giving him the look of something that hasn’t blinked in a long time.
He doesn’t look at the crowd. He looks through them…
Malachi steps slightly ahead, still clutching the rosary. He begins walking again, and Judd follows… two figures moving in sync without needing to acknowledge each other.
The chains drag louder now…
CLINK… scrape… CLINK… scrape…
The music swells, but neither of them reacts…
“When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you
With the hounds of hell comin' after you…
I've got blood…
And I've got blood on my name!”
Halfway down the ramp, Judd stops. The fog curls around his legs almost attempting to swallow him. Malachi continues forward a few more steps, then slowly turns his head back just enough to acknowledge him without breaking his composure.
A quiet exchange happens without words.Judd tilts his head slightly. A slow roll and crack of the neck with a look of hatred etched upon his face. After a quick breath, Judd begins to walk again…
But slower…
It’s almost as if every step is being measured and calculated to precision.
At ringside, Malachi circles once, rosary beads sliding through his fingers like he’s counting sins. He reaches the ring steps first and ascends without urgency, never breaking rhythm. It’s at this moment Judd steps to the ringside area before following Malachi up the steps.
Each step onto the steel stairs produces a heavy clang that echoes longer than it should. Once he reaches the top step Judd pauses again before leaning slightly forward, chains sliding off his shoulders as he drops the iron vines behind him.
Then he steps through the ropes, stomping his foot upon the ring canvas as the fog begins to settle.Malachi watches with a sinister look upon his face, lifting the rosary briefly as if blessing something that should not be blessed.
Inside the ring, Judd walks to the center.The lights begin to flicker frantically before slowing down. Meanwhile through the speakers, the music distorts for half a second, like it’s being choked or even worse-
possessed…
And then silence returns in pieces…
Judd lowers his head slightly. Malachi stands just behind him now, like a shadow. A cold look growing upon his face. The message becomes loud and clear without a single word being spoken…
This is more than an entrance, it’s an arrival...
JC: WOW! There he is! The Backwoods Butcher! Judd Hollow!
JR: Judd just made it clear, his mind is already on tomorrow! His sights are set on Korvayne and the X-Treme Title!
JC: Does that give Landerson an advantage in terms of focus? OR is Judd going to use this match to send a clear message to Korvayne?
Judd Hollow doesn't move in the corner, completely immobile.
Six-foot-seven.
Two hundred seventy-three pounds.
JR: Hudd’s sanding in the center of the ring like someone forgot to tell a statue that the match had started.
JC: Why would you tell a statue a match started, Joe?
Across from him, El Landerson bounces on the balls of his feet.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Right.
Hands up.
Head bobbing.
Mask staring across at the monster.
He points at Hollow.
Then at himself.
Then makes a little running motion with his fingers.
Hollow just watches him.
LANDERSON GRINS.
Judd Hollow
- vs -
El Landerson
[stip]Lucha de Apuestas
If Judd wins, Landerson loses his mask
If Landerson wins, Judd loses his dreadlocks
The bell rings.
Landerson takes off.
Hollow reaches—
LANDERSON DUCKS!
He shoots underneath the massive arm, hits the ropes, comes back—
FLYING LARIAT!
WHAM!
Landerson catches Hollow across the jaw!
Hollow's head snaps sideways.
He doesn't fall.
Landerson lands, rolls, pops back up and throws both arms into the air.
The crowd erupts.
Jacuinde Castillo is nearly screaming.
JC: EL LANDERSON JUST CLOCKED THE BACKWOODS BUTCHER!
JR: And Hollow didn't even blink!
Hollow slowly turns his head.
Landerson's hands immediately go back up.
JC: That's the problem! Landerson needs to fight this match at one hundred miles an hour! He cannot afford to stand in front of Judd Hollow!
JR: Yeah, this is like watching a chihuahua fight a grizzly bear.
JC: That's not very flattering to either animal.
JR: I'm saying Landerson's got speed. And Hollow will literally maul him to death if he doesn’t use it!
Landerson circles.
Hollow circles.
Landerson feints left.
Hollow's eyes follow.
Landerson feints right.
Hollow follows.
Landerson suddenly sprints straight toward him—
AND SLIDES BETWEEN HOLLOW'S LEGS!
He comes out behind him!
Hollow turns—
Landerson is already on the ropes!
SPRINGBOARD SOMERSAULT!
He flips over Hollow!
Lands behind him!
LOU THESZ PRESS!
Landerson pounds away at Hollow's head!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
FIVE!
Hollow grabs him.
Landerson's eyes widen.
He immediately slips free and rolls backward!
Hollow rises.
Landerson is already halfway across the ring.
JC: That's it! That's exactly how Landerson has to wrestle this!
JR: Hit him, don't get hit, and whatever you do, don't let hillbilly cult Sasquatch grab you.
Landerson nods toward the crowd.
He has this.
He's figured Hollow out.
He charges!
STINGER SPLASH!
NO!
Hollow steps aside!
Landerson hits the turnbuckles chest-first!
He spins around—
Hollow's hand shoots out!
LANDERSON DUCKS!
BIG BOOT!
Landerson slides underneath it!
He grabs Hollow's leg!
HURRICANRANA!
Hollow staggers!
Landerson hooks both legs!
ONE!
TWO!
NO!
Hollow powers out!
Landerson is sent flying!
He lands on his feet!
The crowd cheers!
Landerson points at Hollow.
Hollow points at Landerson.
For just a moment, the two stare at each other.
Then Landerson smiles.
He taps the side of his mask.
JC: Landerson's feeling himself!
JR: That's dangerous.
JC: Why?
JR: Because he's five-foot-two and currently feeling himself against a six-foot-seven man.
Landerson runs the ropes.
REVERSE CROSSBODY!
Hollow catches him!
The smile disappears from Landerson's mask.
Hollow has both arms around him.
Landerson immediately starts squirming.
He throws elbows!
He twists!
He kicks!
Hollow squeezes tighter!
JC: OH! HOLLOW'S GOT HIM!
Landerson manages to slip one arm free!
He reaches behind Hollow's head!
SNAPMARE!
No!
Hollow refuses to bend!
Landerson kicks backward!
He catches Hollow in the knee!
Hollow finally releases him!
Landerson drops!
Rolls underneath Hollow's legs!
Gets to his feet!
RUNS!
SPRINGBOARD!
DIVING BULLDOG!
Hollow goes down to one knee!
Landerson hooks the leg!
ONE!
TWO!
NO!
Hollow throws him off!
Landerson bounces off the canvas!
He rolls toward the corner!
Hollow is already standing!
Landerson looks up—
Hollow charges!
CANNONBALL!
NO!
LANDERSON MOVES!
Hollow crashes into the corner!
Landerson is behind him!
He leaps onto the ropes!
MOONSAULT!
Hollow turns!
He catches Landerson across the chest!
JC: HE CAUGHT HIM!
Landerson immediately starts kicking!
He claws for the ropes!
Hollow lifts him higher!
Landerson twists!
HURRICANRANA!
He pulls Hollow's head down!
Hollow drops to a knee!
Landerson rolls through!
HURRICANRANA PIN!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE—
NO!
Hollow kicks out!
Landerson shoots to his feet!
He's moving before Hollow even sits up!
He hits the ropes!
FLYING LARIAT!
Hollow ducks!
Landerson sails past!
He lands!
Turns!
Hollow swings!
Landerson ducks!
Hollow swings again!
Landerson ducks!
Landerson ducks!
Landerson ducks!
JC: LANDERSON IS MAKING HOLLOW LOOK SILLY!
JR: This is the Roadrunner shit I was talking about!
JC: …Joe, you haven’t brought up anything abut a roadrunner at all tonight.
Hollow suddenly stops.
Landerson runs past him.
Hollow doesn't chase.
He simply turns.
Landerson hits the ropes again.
Hollow watches.
Landerson comes flying back—
HOLLOW CATCHES HIM!
TONGAN DEATH GRIP!
The arena gasps!
Landerson's feet leave the mat!
His hands immediately grab Hollow's wrist!
He kicks!
KICKS!
KICKS!
He manages to hook his leg around Hollow's arm!
He twists his body!
LANDERSON DROPS!
Hollow's grip breaks!
Landerson hits the mat and immediately rolls beneath the bottom rope!
He lands on the floor!
Hollow turns toward him.
Landerson backs away.
Hollow steps through the ropes.
Landerson RUNS!
Around the ring!
Hollow follows!
Landerson slides under the ring!
Hollow reaches down—
LANDERSON POPS OUT THE OTHER SIDE!
The crowd explodes!
JC: HE'S OUTSMARTING HIM!
JR: That's exactly what you have to do! If you can't beat the bear, make the bear chase you around the damn picnic!
Landerson slides back inside!
Hollow climbs in after him!
Landerson immediately hits the ropes!
CORNER STINGSHOT SPLASH!
He catches Hollow!
Hollow staggers!
Landerson climbs!
TOP ROPE!
DIVING BULLDOG!
Hollow drops to his hands and knees!
Landerson climbs again!
FROG SPLASH!
LANDERSON FROG SPLASH!
HE CONNECTS!
ONE!
TWO!
HOLLOW KICKS OUT!
Landerson sits upright.
He can't believe it.
He looks at the referee.
Then looks at Hollow.
Then back at the referee.
JC: LANDERSON THOUGHT THAT WAS IT!
JR: Yeah, and now he's remembering the most important part of the stipulation.
Landerson slowly stands.
He looks at Hollow's dreadlocks.
He looks at the crowd.
He pats his own mask.
Then points at Hollow's hair.
The crowd realizes what he's thinking.
JC: HE'S THINKING ABOUT THE HAIR!
Landerson backs into the corner.
He waits.
Hollow rises.
Landerson raises one finger.
He's going for it.
Hollow turns.
Landerson sprints!
He hits the ropes!
He launches himself upward!
SPRINGBOARD HURRICANRANA!
Landerson wraps his legs around Hollow's head!
For one beautiful instant, it looks perfect.
But Hollow's hands shoot out.
He catches Landerson.
Stops the rotation.
The little luchador's body suddenly hangs upside down between Hollow's arms.
The arena goes silent.
JC: OH NO.
Hollow adjusts his grip.
LANDERSON IS IN POWERBOMB POSITION.
JR: That's it.
Landerson kicks!
Hollow doesn't move.
Landerson reaches for the ropes!
Nothing.
He punches Hollow's shoulders!
Nothing.
He tries to twist!
Hollow lifts him higher.
JC: LANDERSON HAS GOT TO GET OUT OF THIS!
Hollow takes one step backward.
Then another.
He looks down at Landerson.
No anger.
No theatrics.
Just that same cold, dead stare.
He backs into the corner.
Landerson's legs kick helplessly.
Hollow runs.
JC: DEVIL'S—
HOLLOW DROPS!
DEVIL'S HOLLOW!
The impact is monstrous.
Landerson hits the canvas so hard the ring seems to jump underneath him.
His body bounces nearly a foot off the mat before collapsing flat.
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
Hollow rolls immediately into the cover.
Both hands planted firmly on Landerson's chest.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Winner: Judd Hollow
The bell rings.
The crowd erupts in a mixture of shock and sympathy.
JC: JUDD HOLLOW WINS!
JR: And El Landerson just got introduced to the laws of physics!
JC: Landerson fought an incredible fight! He did everything he could! He kept moving, he kept Hollow guessing, he nearly had him with that Frog Splash—
JR: But eventually the Roadrunner has to stop running.
JC: …Ohhhhh, that’s what you meant by that Roadrunner stuff you were talking about?
JR: Jacuinde, that’s the first time I’ve brought up roadrunner tonight.
Hollow slowly rises.
He looks down at Landerson.
Then toward the corner.
Then toward the referee.
The official understands.
This isn't over.
Hollow reaches down.
He grabs Landerson by the mask.
The crowd boos.
Landerson weakly grabs Hollow's wrist.
Hollow pulls him upright.
He looks directly into Landerson's eyes.
Then points toward the mask.
Landerson shakes his head.
Hollow waits.
The referee steps between them.
Hollow releases the mask.
…
Hollow turns and leaves the ring.
Landerson remains seated in the center of the canvas.
His head bowed.
His hands slowly rise to the sides of his mask.
The crowd begins chanting:
"DON'T TAKE IT OFF!"
Landerson stops.
He looks toward the entrance.
Then toward the crowd.
Then toward ringside.
His eyes find his family.
His wife.
His daughter.
They're standing.
Watching him.
Landerson looks at them.
His hands tremble slightly.
Then he reaches behind his head.
He begins untying the mask.
JC: This is the price of the Luchas de Apuestas.
JR: That's the harshest part of wrestling, Jacuinde. You can lose a match and walk away tomorrow. You lose a mask…
Landerson removes it.
The crowd rises.
The Bit Luchador is gone.
For the first time in his XWF career, El Landerson stands before them without his mask.
Fade to black.
As the drums echoed down tonight, the rumble of a Jeep painted in camouflage drowns it out like the blessed rains of Africa. The Jeep continues down the ramp to ringside, where Safari Stu jumps out of the passenger seat. He high fives the gorilla driving the vehicle as a flood of wildlife also files out. Roger is in the trunk, because he gets a wee bit carsick inside of a moving car.
TODD: And there he is! Safari Stu! The XWF’s Ultimate Hunter! And Roger! The XWF’s Ultimate Roger
BAMA: I thought we were done having clowns compete for the tag titles…
TODD: Feel free to be dismissive, Bama! But Safari Stu has been majorly impressive thus far in his Anarchy run, beating names like Kentucky Taggart AND Lane’l Pennyfarthing! AND Roger is a tag legend, he was the first ever XWF Anarchy Tag Champs with “Cavortin’” Jake Borden! If the champs don’t take this too seriously, Roger and Stu just might pull the upset here!
Waving to the crowd, Stu gives a monkey to a young fan as a sign of appreciation. Roger and Stu then climb into the ring, Stu shoots off finger guns in the air while the monkey decides whether it'll rip the kid's face off. Such is the circle of life.
Roger does Roger things while Stu’s music fades out.
…
The Woke Mind Virus hits the stage next! Centurion and Oleandyr Reitan make their way down to the ring, managed by Nellie Cortinovis. They receive a huge pop as all the gays and the girlies scream like they just saw Taylor Swift! Centurion and Oleandyr eventually make their way into the ring whilst Nellie remains at ringside, keeping an eye on The Imposts like a hawk.
TODD: And here they are! The Woke Mind Virus! The Anarchy Tag Team Champions!
BAMA: It’s rare that Cent and Olie aren’t the odd couple in a match, but here, they are BY FAR the more traditional tag-team! Even though they’re a man in his… late seventies? And his daughter’s fifth-favorite romantic partner in her polycule.
TODD: Cent isn’t 70-something, Bama!
BAMA: Funny you corrected the age thing, but not the thing about Olie being Nellie’s least favorite love interest. I’ma tell them you feel that way, Todrick!
The bell rings.
DING! DING! DING!
Anarchy Tag Team Championship
Woke Mind Virus
Centurion and Oleandyr Reitan
- vs - Safari Stu’s Jungle Jamboree
Safari Stu and MYSTERY PARTNER Texas Tornado Tag Team Tango No Tags, No Rope Breaks, No Holds Barred, No Beans in Chili
TODD: “AND HERE WE GO! ANARCHY TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS! NO TAGS! NO ROPE BREAKS! NO HOLDS BARRED! NO BEANS IN CHILI!”
BAMA: “That last one is just common sense, Toddrick.”
Centurion steps forward with his hands raised, trying to instill some semblance of order into this chaotic stipulation!
TODD: It looks like Cent is trying to parlay with Stu!
BAMA: This is like watchin’ an astronaut on a heretofore undiscovered planet try to figure out if he’s talking to intelligent life or a pair of rocks.”
“Stu! We wrestle. You and me. Leave the other two—”
Safari Stu immediately charges.
“RIGHTO! You had me at ‘we wrestle!”
Centurion barely gets his arms up before Stu crashes into him with a shoulder tackle.
THUD!
Centurion rocks backward.
Stu rebounds off the opposite side of the ring—
—only to discover there are no ropes.
He runs straight through where ropes would be… and disappears from sight.
Centurion blinks.
Roger blinks.
Oleandyr blinks.
TODD: “I KNEW THERE WERE NO ROPE BREAKS, I DIDN’T THINK THAT MEANT NO ROPES AT ALL!”
BAMA: “Why have ‘em if they don’t do nothing for ya, Toddrick!”
Stu is still running, like he’ll eventually hit ropes if he goes far enough.
Centurion pinches the bridge of his nose.
Roger suddenly appears behind him.
“HELLO, CENTURION MY NAME IS ROGER AND THIS IS CALLED A HEADBUTT, ALTHOUGH I BELIEVE IT SHOULD BE CALLED A HEADHEAD BECAUSE I AM NOT STRIKING MY HEAD AGAINST YOUR BUTT BUT YOUR HEAD.!”
Centurion spins.
Roger headbutts him.
“OW!”
Roger grabs his own forehead.
“OW!”
Centurion grabs his forehead.
They stare at each other.
Roger nods solemnly.
“Great teamwork, friend Centurion!”
Centurion responds by planting a forearm directly into Roger's face.
Roger goes stumbling backward—
—and straight into Oleandyr.
Oleandyr catches Roger around the waist.
Roger looks over his shoulder.
Oleandyr throws him like a sack of potatoes!
Roger sails across the ring and lands in a heap.
TODD: “OLEANDYR WITH A BEAUTIFUL HIP THROW!”
BAMA: “That's judo, Todd.”
TODD: “I know.”
BAMA: “You sounded surprised.”
TODD: “I was admiring it!”
Meanwhile, Stu has returned to the ring carrying something.
Centurion sees it.
His expression drops.
“Where did you get that?”
Stu proudly holds up a folding chair.
“Found it way out where they keep the ropes!”
“Put it down.”
“But it's a perfectly good chair, mate!”
“GIVE IT TO ME.”
Stu looks at the chair.
Then at Centurion.
Then at the chair again.
“...Alroight.”
He swings.
Centurion ducks.
The chair whistles over his head.
Centurion kicks Stu in the stomach and catches the chair as it drops.
For one glorious second, the veteran looks like he has finally established control.
He turns.
Oleandyr is standing there.
Centurion hands them the chair.
“Take this.”
Oleandyr looks at it.
Then at him.
“You want me to use it?”
“No, just… Keep it away from him.”
Stu gasps.
“They’s gonna hold onto me chair?!”
Centurion points.
“YES.”
Stu looks genuinely wounded.
“Isn’t that against the rules, mate?”
”...What?”
”It’s a no-holds match, mate! They’s holdin’ me chair!’
…Oleandyr drops the chair suddenly.
Centurion buries his face in his hand.
“This is a no-holds-BARRED match!”
”Ah, cash barred or open barred?”
Stu reaches into his cargo shorts for a wallet, which is shaped like a wallaby.
”Either way, I’ll have a Fosters!”
…
Cent turns to Oleandyr.
”On second thought, hit him with the chair. Hard and repeatedly.”
Stu tosses his wallet over his shoulder and lunges.
Oleandyr siderolls, grabbing the chair and swings it downward!
…
But Stu ducks.
The chair smashes against the mat.
Stu pops up behind Oleandyr.
“G'day!”
Oleandyr turns.
Stu grabs them around the waist.
GERMAN SUPLEX!
Oleandyr lands hard and rolls through.
They immediately spring back to their feet.
Stu's eyes light up.
“Oooh!”
Oleandyr nods, rolling their shoulder toughly.
“Again?”
“Absolutely!”
They collide.
Stu attempts another suplex.
Oleandyr shifts their hips, hooks Stu's arm and throws him with an elegant judo sacrifice throw.
Stu rolls across the canvas laughing.
“THAT WAS BRILLIANT!”
TODD: “Safari Stu seems to be having the time of his life!”
BAMA: “He's insane.”
TODD: “He just loves a good fight! I like him!”
BAMA: “You’re insane, Toddy.”
Roger suddenly climbs onto Bama's commentary desk.
“HELLO COMMENTATORS, MY NAME IS ROGER. DOES ANYBODY HAVE A MICROPHONE AS I HAVE A MESSAGE I WOULD LIKE TO CONVEY VIA MICROPHONE, A DEViCE THAT I BELIEVE WAS INVENTED BY MICHAEL ROPHONE.”
Bama looks up.
TODD: “Get off my desk!”
Roger grabs Todd's spare microphone.
“HELLO, EVERYONE! I AM CURRENTLY NOT WRESTLING THOUGH I AM COMPETING IN THE MATCH BEFORE YOUR EYES RIGHT NOW! HOWEVER I INTEND TO CHANGE THAT! NOT THAT I INTEND TO STOP COMPETING BUT THAT I INTEND TO RESUME WRESTLING!”
Centurion hears this extended message, just as Roger hops off the table and rolls under the ropes…
Or would roll under the ropes if there were ropes.
Cent turns around…
AS Roger dives.
CROSSBODY!
…But Centurion catches him.
TODD: Cent saw it coming!
BAMA: Of course he did! Roger gave the damn Gettysburg Address announcing what he was about to do before he did it!
Roger immediately wraps his legs around Centurion's waist.
“TA-DA!”
Centurion effortlessly transitions his grip, before dropping him with a belly-to-back suplex.
Roger bounces like a superball off his back before winding up back on his feet.
“TA-DA A SECOND TIME!”
Centurion stares at him impatiently.
“Stay down.”
”Oh, okay.”
Roger sits down.
“No.”
Centurion kicks him square in the chest.
Roger falls over.
Centurion turns—
—and gets tackled by Safari Stu.
The two tumble through the ropes… well, no, there aren’t ropes… Instead, they crash onto the floor.
TODD: “CENTURION AND STU GOING TO THE FLOOR!”
BAMA T: “Finally! A place where this match makes sense!”
Centurion scrambles up.
Stu is already halfway up the turnbuckle pole.
“LOOK, CENT! I'M A KOALA!”
“What?”
Stu hangs from the turnbuckle by one arm.
Centurion stares.
“You're not a koala.”
““I'M PRACTICING!”
”Practicing what?!? BEING A KOALA?!?”
TODD: I bet this is what it will be like when Cent’s a grandfather.
Stu drops.
Centurion catches him.
Stu immediately headbutts him.
Centurion staggers.
Stu grabs his wrist.
“Come on!”
Stu runs.
Centurion is dragged behind him.
Straight toward the ring post.
Centurion digs his heels into the floor.
“No.”
Stu pulls.
“Yes!”
“No.”
“Yes!”
“No!”
Stu tugs…
But Stu's boots slip!
Centurion reverses.
Stu goes flying toward the post—
—but Centurion releases him at the last moment.
Stu crashes shoulder-first into the ring apron instead.
Centurion exhales.
“There. Wrestling.”
Stu pops up, in pain, but clearly excited.
“THAT WAS GREAT!”
Centurion looks one-quarter exhausted, but three-quarters exasperated.
“I hate you.”
“Cheers, mate!”
Back inside, Oleandyr has Roger trapped in a front headlock.
Roger is flailing.
“HELLO MY NAME IS ROGER AND I CANNOT BREATHE, OLEANDYR REITAN!”
“You're talking a lot for a guy who can’t breathe….”
“I CAN’T TALK AND BREATHE AT THE SAME TIME SO I’M CHOOSING TO TALK SO YOU KNOW THAT I CANNOT BRE-*urk*!”
Oleandyr tightens the hold.
Roger reaches backward blindly.
His hand finds something.
A kendo stick.
He immediately stops struggling.
“Oh.”
Oleandyr's eyes widen.
Roger brings the stick down.
CRACK!
Oleandyr releases him.
Roger looks at the stick.
Then at Oleandyr.
Then at the stick.
“HELLO STICK, MY NAME IS ROGER AND I WILL NAME YOU KENNETH DO THE STICK.”
He swings again.
CRACK!
Oleandyr stumbles backward.
Roger raises the stick, cheering it.
”GO, KENNETH DO, GO!”
He swings again!
Oleandyr ducks.
Roger's kendo stick smashes into the turnbuckle.
The stick breaks.
Roger stares at the two halves.
”NO, KENNETH DO, NOOOOOOOOOO!”
Oleandyr sweeps his legs.
Roger crashes onto his back.
Oleandyr drops on top.
ONE!
TWO!
Stu dives across the ring.
SPLASH!
He wipes both of them out.
TODD: “STU BREAKS UP THE PIN!”
BAMA T: “He didn't even know who was winning!”
Stu sits up.
Roger sits up as well, giving his partner a thumbs-up.
“THANK YOU STU YOU SAVED ME FROM BEING PINNED BY OLEANDYR REITAN THOUGH YOU DID NOT SAVE KENNETH DO!”
Oleandyr crawls away.
Centurion returns to the ring at exactly the wrong time.
Stu sees him.
Centurion sees Stu.
Both men freeze.
Stu smiles.
Centurion sighs.
“Come on, then.”
Stu charges.
Centurion charges.
They collide in the center of the ring.
Forearm.
Forearm.
Forearm.
Forearm.
The crowd erupts.
Centurion gains the advantage with a knee to the gut.
He hooks Stu.
DDT!
Stu's head hits the canvas.
Centurion immediately covers.
ONE!
TWO—
Roger grabs Centurion by the ankles and drags him backward.
Centurion spins around.
Roger is standing there with a trash can over his head.
“BEHOLD, MY NEWEST ALLY, TRASHCAN DAN!”
…
TODD: …
BAMA: No. No, Toddrick, you don’t get to be quiet. You’ve been calling this like it’s not bizarre. I want you to explain exactly what’s going through Roger’s head right now as he wears a trashcan on his head.”
TODD: …
Roger sidesteps to the left, then the right, almost like a Space Invader from the video game Space Invaders.
…Cent lets out a long sigh like he’s not sure how his life reached this point.
”HAHA! I WILL ACCEPT YOUR SURRENDER AS I AM INVINCIBLE SO LONG AS I AM SUPPORTED BY MY NEWEST ALLY, TRASHCAN D-”
Centurion kicks the trash can.
CLANG!
Roger staggers.
Centurion grabs the can.
He removes it from Roger's head.
”HEY! RETURN TRASHCAN DAN TO ME!”
Centurion immediately puts the trash can over Roger's head.
Then punches it.
BANG!
Roger falls over.
Cent breathes a sigh of relief, like he’s gotten rid of a pesky clown pest.
When there’s a tap on his shoulder.
Centurion turns around.
Oleandyr is behind him.
“Cent.”
“What?”
Oleandyr points.
Stu has climbed onto the top turnbuckle.
Centurion looks up.
Stu is grinning.
“Oh, for fu—”
FLYING SPLASH!
Stu crashes down onto Centurion, Roger (in a trash can), and Oleandyr!
All four collapse into a heap.
The arena explodes.
TODD: “EVERYBODY IS DOWN!”
BAMA: “Good! Maybe they'll stay down!”
Roger sits up first.
The trash can remains over his head.
He blindly reaches around.
“HELLO MY NAME IS ROGER? IS STU MY FRIEND WHO WALKS ABOUT ON SAFARI AROUND!”
Stu's voice comes from somewhere underneath him.
“Yeah, mate? I’m here!”
”Aha, excellent, friend Stu! But where is Centurion?”
A muffled voice comes from inside the trash can.
“I'M RIGHT HERE.”
Centurion punches Roger again, from inside the trash can.
BANG!
Roger falls over, collapsing outside the trashcan!
”TRASHCAN DAN! YOU HAVE BECOME MY TRASHCAN FOE!”
Centurion finally gets the trash can off him.
His hair is disheveled.
His shirt is pulled loose.
His face is red with frustration.
He looks around the ring.
At Stu, who seems excited for the chance to throw hands!
Stu and Centurion collide.
Meanwhile Oleandyr and Roger slowly scramble up to their feet….
Oleandyr catches Roger.
Roger ducks a forearm.
Stu catches Centurion with a knee.
Centurion answers with a European uppercut.
Oleandyr throws Roger across the ring.
Roger lands on his feet.
He looks amazed.
“I MEANT TO DO THAT!”
He immediately trips over a steel chair.
THUD.
Centurion grabs Stu.
Stu fights free.
Oleandyr grabs Stu.
Stu ducks.
Centurion accidentally clocks Oleandyr.
Oleandyr stumbles into Roger.
Roger grabs Oleandyr.
Oleandyr grabs Roger.
Stu grabs Centurion.
Centurion swings.
Stu ducks.
The punch misses.
Stu ducks again.
Centurion swings again.
Stu ducks again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Centurion stops.
Stu stops.
They stare at each other.
“Are you gonna keep doing that?”
“Probably!”
Centurion simply clotheslines him.
Stu flips over the top rope—
—except there are no rope breaks.
He lands on the floor.
“WOO-HOO!”
Meanwhile, Oleandyr and Roger have somehow become involved in an entirely different match.
Roger is bouncing around Oleandyr like a hyperactive mosquito.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Right.
Oleandyr tracks him.
Roger suddenly dives.
Oleandyr catches him.
Judo throw.
Roger lands on his back.
“AGAIN!”
Oleandyr looks at him.
“No.”
“PLEASE!”
“No.”
“PLEASE!”
“No.”
Roger grabs their ankle.
Oleandyr looks down.
Roger smiles.
“Friendship?”
Oleandyr sighs.
“Fine.”
They bend down—
Roger grabs their head.
ROLL-UP!
ONE!
TWO!
Oleandyr kicks out.
Roger pops up.
“BETRAYAL! YOU ALMOST GOT ME!”
“Me? You tried to pin me!”
“Yeah!”
“Why?”
Roger thinks…
“I forgot.”
Oleandyr stares.
TODD: “Roger may be the most unpredictable competitor in this entire match.”
BAMA T: “Boy, that ain't unpredictable. That's just brain damage.”
Roger immediately dives.
Oleandyr catches him again.
This time they pivot.
HIP THROW!
Roger sails over Oleandyr's shoulder and crashes onto Centurion.
THUD!
Centurion and Roger go down together.
Oleandyr looks horrified.
“Sorry!”
Centurion sits up.
Roger sits up.
They look at each other.
Centurion closes his eyes.
He looks like he has aged five years since this match started…
Oleandyr grabs Roger by the arm, looking for a gogoplata MMA submission!
…But Roger’s arm slips out of her grip!
TODD: What just happened?!?
BAMA: Roger’s arm is made out of wet noodle and rainbow streaks! I think it just slipped straight out of Reitan’s grip!
Roger manages to go UP!
…
And then down! Super Roger Punch!
Both Oleandyr and Roger collapse through the side of the ring and flop to the floor!
TODD: And now it’s down to Cent and Stu!
Stu goes for a roundhouse kick!
But Cent ducks under!
Stu spins around!
Cent hooks under his arm for the…
THOUSAND MILE SLAM!
…
But Stu drops off the back!
Cent spins around…
Stu hooks him in a frontfacelock!
DRAGON SUPLEX!
TODD: No way! NO WAY!
The official counts!
ONE!
Cent’s legs are kicking!
TWO!
He manages to shove his shoulder up off the mat!
…
A SPLIT-SECOND AFTER THREE!
WINNERS AND NEEEEEEEEEEEW XWF ANARCHY TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS: SAFARI STU AND ROGER!
TODD: I can’t believe it! Stu and Roger pulled it off!
BAMA: Cent is a master of wrestling matches, but this time, he had to wrangle two greased-up clowns!
TODD: it might have been a different result in a different match, Bama! But tonight, Stu and Roger take the win and the belts!
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.
JC: Remi Storm! The Storm is HERE! And she’s ready to rain down on her opponent!
JR: Remi Storm is the first competitor since Garisha’s debut to make her look mortal! Remi absolutely took the TV champ to the limit!
JC: But the question remains, Joe. Can Remi keep Garisha down… even with 15 additional minutes on the clock from their last meeting? Or will that time only give Garisha a more prolonged, tortuous feeding…
…
The unsettling opening of Rok Nardin’s “Bad Blood” cranks up over the speakers. Fog rises from the aisle, staying at shin level. Through the haze steps Malachi Graves. He’s clad in his reverend attire yet does not appear as relaxed and focused as he would when escorting Judd Hollow to the ring.
He looks anxious, perhaps a little worried. From behind him comes Garisha. Her eyes are wild and bulging; everyone can see it despite her long dark hair being a mess and concealing portions of her face. She’s clad in simple attire. Conservative. Leaving nothing for the perverted minds in the stands and watching on TV to latch onto.
JC: Garisha has been absolutely dominant since her debut in the XWF! She’s been arguable legends… Icons of this company! Men like Mr. Amazing! John Black!
JR: But she seemed to meet her match last Warfare with Remi! And if that time limit were 15:02 rather than 15:00… Remi hit her move just before the buzzer went off!
JC: It’s true! Garisha is going to have to dig extra deep to find the secret to putting down Remi…
JR: That’s the thing, though, Jacuinde. Garisha’s soul is a pit of pure black. There’s no end to what she’s willing to do to an opponent…
Beside her arrives Dr. Glen. His eyes are focused intently on her, never straying as they head toward the ring. He says stuff to Garisha and Malachi. When they get to the ring steps, Malachi pulls her in close, hugging her. He then places his hands on her shoulders and says things not picked up by the camera.
He then motions up the stairs and she lets out a roar, jetting up the steps in a blur and entering the ring like a woman possessed.
Garisha stands in the center of the ring, shoulders heaving, eyes locked on her opponent.
Remi gives her a little shimmy.
A grin.
A cocky little gesture toward the Television Championship at the timekeeper’s table.
Garisha doesn't react.
She simply starts walking forward.
Remi's grin disappears.
Garisha lunges.
Remi barely slips underneath the first swing.
The crowd erupts.
Remi pops up behind her, rolls Garisha into a quick cradle—
**ONE!**
Garisha powers out.
Remi immediately hooks the leg again.
**ONE!**
Garisha kicks out even faster.
Remi scrambles backward.
Garisha turns.
And charges.
Remi ducks.
Garisha's shoulder catches the turnbuckle.
Remi springs off the ropes—
**SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK!**
Garisha staggers.
Remi sees an opening.
She hits the ropes again.
**PUMP KICK!**
Garisha's head snaps back.
Remi doesn't waste a second.
She hooks the arm.
Twists.
Drops her weight.
**STEP-UP ROLLING CROSS ARMBAR!**
The crowd comes alive.
29:02
29:01
29:00
JC: Two very different styles here! Remi is trying to wrestle. Trying to win! Trying to use technique against someone considerably stronger than her!
JR: And Garisha looks like she’s decided she wants to commit a murder tonight.
Remi shifts her shoulders on the mat, trying to incrementally add torque to her armbar…
Garisha simply looks down at her.
Then she grabs Remi by the throat.
The hold breaks.
Garisha hauls her upward.
Remi's eyes widen.
Garisha throws her across the ring like she's nothing.
Remi crashes into the ropes and tumbles through them.
She lands on her feet.
Barely.
JC: Incredible agility by Remi Storm there! A toss like that could have ended in a horrifying splat!
27:56
27:55
27:54
The referee immediately starts counting.
“ONE!”
Remi climbs onto the apron.
Garisha is already there.
**HEADBUTT!**
Remi's head snaps backward.
Garisha grabs her by the hair and drags her through the ropes.
Remi fights back.
A forearm.
Another.
A rising knee.
A backflip kick.
Garisha doesn't move.
Remi's face changes to one of surprise…
Garisha grabs her.
**POWERSLAM!**
Remi bounces off the canvas.
Garisha doesn't cover her.
She mounts her.
And starts throwing punches.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
The referee screams at her.
“GARISHA! BREAK IT!”
Garisha keeps punching.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
The referee physically grabs her shoulder and pulls her off by force!
JC: Garisha better be careful here! She could get herself disqualified!
JR: I think based on that look, Garisha doesn’t think of this as a wrestling match! This is a feeding in front of a crowd! This is like when they dump a load of chum in the killer whale tank at sea world.
Remi rolls toward the ropes.
Garisha follows.
Remi suddenly fires herself forward—
**DROPKICK!**
Garisha falls backward into the ropes.
Remi rushes in.
**HEADSCISSORS TAKEDOWN!**
Garisha hits the mat.
Remi transitions immediately.
**SINGLE ARM DDT!**
Garisha's head hits.
Remi hooks the leg.
**ONE!**
**TWO!**
Garisha kicks out.
JC: A nearfall for Remi! Somehow, she’s taking Garisha’s aggressiveness and she keeps finding ways to snatch the advantage!
26:14
26:13
26:12
Remi doesn't hesitate.
She climbs.
Apron.
Top rope.
She looks down.
The crowd rises.
**SHOOTING STAR PRESS!**
Garisha rolls.
Remi crashes onto the canvas.
She clutches her ribs.
Garisha stands.
Remi slowly turns over.
Garisha grabs her.
**GORD BUSTER!**
Remi folds over the knee.
Garisha grabs her again.
A belly-to-belly?
No.
She launches Remi upward.
Remi's eyes go wide.
Garisha catches her on the way down—
**POP-UP PILEDRIVER!**
Remi's body violently folds against the mat.
The building goes silent for half a second.
Garisha covers.
**ONE!**
**TWO!**
Remi kicks out.
The crowd explodes.
JC: Holy cow! How did Remi kick out of that one?!?
JR: That’s the first time it’s felt like Garisha was treating this like a match… Incredible resilience by Remi staying alive there!
Garisha stares at the referee.
Then at Remi.
There is no frustration.
No disbelief.
Just something much worse.
Interest.
Garisha grabs her by the face.
And smiles.
Remi slowly rises up to one knee… slaps her hand away.
Garisha responds with a savage headbutt.
Remi collapses.
The referee screams.
Garisha grabs her again.
**BUCKSHOT HEADBUTT!**
Remi crumples.
Garisha starts stomping.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The referee grabs her.
Garisha shoves him away.
The referee gets back in front of her.
Garisha shoves him again.
The official nearly falls through the ropes.
Remi crawls.
Garisha grabs her ankle.
Remi kicks.
Nothing.
She kicks again.
Garisha catches the leg.
Remi suddenly rolls through, just as the official finds a vertical base for himself…
**SMALL PACKAGE!**
The official counts!
**ONE!**
**TWO!**
**THREE—**
Garisha kicks out at the last possible instant!
JC: Wow! If Garisha hadn’t tossed the official away… if he’d been in position to count immediately!
JR: But he wasn’t, Jacuinde! If wishes were fishes, I’d open a Long John Silver’s franchise!
24:11
24:10
24:09
Remi scrambles backward.
She sees the opening.
Garisha is on one knee.
Remi charges.
She hooks her.
Turns her.
Gets the lift—
**STORMCHASER!**
Garisha's body comes over.
But she catches herself.
Her feet hit the mat.
She grabs Remi around the waist.
And **throws her backward.**
Remi lands hard.
Garisha is on her immediately.
JC: Garisha not going for the pin here… Interesting strategy
JR: Strategy, schmategy, Jacuinde. Garisha isn't trying to pin her anymore. She's trying to destroy her.
She grabs Remi around the waist.
**BEAR HUG!**
Remi screams.
Garisha squeezes.
Then begins violently jerking her side to side.
Remi's body ragdolls.
The referee is shouting.
Garisha doesn't care.
Remi's arms flail.
She finally gets one free.
She claws at Garisha's face.
Garisha headbutts her.
Remi goes limp for a second.
Garisha drops her.
Then grabs her by the head.
**VICE GRIP.**
…Remi hooks an arm under the rope, trying to force Garisha to break the hold!
But Garisha does not!
She squeezes Remi's skull between both hands.
And starts violently twisting.
The official counts!
ONE!
TWO!
Remi screams.
The referee abandons the count, drives his own shoulder into Garisha’s arm, trying to force her to break the hold!
Garisha doesn't even look at him.
She grabs Remi again.
And starts punching.
The referee manages to pull Garisha off a step…
But that’s when Malachi Graves grabs Remi's arm!
JC: What the Hell is Malachi Graves doing?!?
Malachi Graves clings onto Remi’s arm! Remi tries to wrench out… tries to scramble away.
Garisha shoves the official to the side and starts STOMPING Remi in the ribs!
One.
Two.
Three.
Remi's back slams against the floor.
Malachi keeps her arm extended.
Garisha grabs Remi by the hair.
By the time the official comes over, Malachi has released Remi’s arm!
[white]JC: This isn’t a match! This is a beatdown!
JR: That’s what I’ve been saying! But the official is letting this one roll on!
Garisha hurls Remi across the ring by her hair!
Remi drops.
Garisha mounts her.
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
The crowd is furious.
The official again tries to grab Garisha by the arm…
When Garisha grabs him by the throat!
**“HEY!”**
The crowd explodes.
Korvayne is coming down the ramp!
JC: There’s Korvayne! The X-Treme Champion! The leader of the ART Foundation! Remi's tag-team partner!
JR: And the woman who’s facing Judd Hollow tomorrow night!
Korvayne storms toward the ring.
Garisha sees her.
Malachi sees her.
Korvayne slides into the ring.
Garisha immediately releases Remi.
Garisha takes a step forward.
Korvayne takes another.
Then—
A shadow appears behind Korvayne.
Korvayne's expression changes.
Too late.
**JUDD HOLLOW.**
The Backwoods Butcher stands behind her.
He grabs Korvayne around the waist.
**“WELCOME TO THE WOODS.”**
He yanks her backward.
Korvayne elbows him.
Judd staggers.
Korvayne spins—
**DEVIL'S HOLLOW!**
Judd hooks her.
Lifts.
Korvayne is almost airborne—
**DROPKICK!**
Judd crashes backward.
Remi, still barely standing, has launched herself from behind.
JC: Remi just saved Korvayne!
The official signals to the timekeeper before rolling outside of the ring!
NO CONTEST
Judd rolls toward the ropes.
Garisha charges Korvayne.
Korvayne meets her halfway.
JC: The match is over!
JR: And that means the fight is ON!
Judd and Korvayne trade punches.
Garisha grabs Remi.
Remi fires back.
A forearm.
Garisha answers with a headbutt.
Korvayne sends Judd into the corner.
Judd comes charging back.
Garisha hurls Remi into the ropes.
Remi rebounds.
**SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK!**
Garisha staggers.
Remi sees her opening.
She grabs the top rope.
Pulls.
Hard.
The rope comes loose.
Garisha's momentum carries her forward—
**AND SHE GOES OVER THE SIDE OF THE RING!**
Garisha crashes onto the floor.
Remi drops beside the ropes, exhausted.
Across the ring, Judd has Korvayne again.
He hooks her.
Lifts.
Korvayne struggles.
Judd roars.
**DEVIL'S HOLLOW!**
But Korvayne slips free.
She lands behind him.
Judd spins—
Remi is already moving.
**DROPKICK!**
Straight into Judd's back.
Judd stumbles through the ropes to the outside!
Now all four are separated.
Garisha stands outside the ring!
Judd stands beside her.
Looking down on them—
Korvayne.
And Remi.
Nobody moves.
The crowd is deafening.
JC: This crowd is absolutely electric!
JR: This is Relentless, baby!
Garisha wipes blood from her mouth.
Remi leans against the ropes, exhausted, battered, but still standing.
Korvayne steps beside her.
Judd slowly raises his head.
JC: This isn’t over between Remi and Garisha! But, tonight, we get a taste of what Night Two will be all about!
JR: That’s right, Jacuinde! Korvayne! Judd Hollow! The X-Treme Title!
JC: Don’t miss it, folks! We’ll see you tomorrow night!
![[-]](https://xwf1999.com/images/portal2/collapse.gif)
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