January - 5 - 2025 LIVE FROM ROCKET ARENA CLEVELAND OHIO Scoops McGee - vs - Isaiah King X-Treme Rules Samael Dyson - vs - The Director THE DIRECTOR'S CUT: The match takes place on a soundstage, in front of a live studio audience! AND BARBED-WIRE IS EVERYWHERE! Centurion and The Wicked Witch of Wrestling - vs - Game Girl and Amber Mansley Tornado Tag Teams can either choose to do 2 solo RPs at 2k each OR 1 collab RP @ 4k Dickie Watson - vs - Charlie Nickles Singles

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“Run This Town” by Rihanna plays, and the crowd unleashes DEFCON 4 nuclear heat as the Corporation strolls toward the ring, styling and profiling, with Charlie rocking the X-Treme title as only a man of his caliber can rock it.

JOE ROGAN: The Corporation is looking smug as ever, which is strange considering they’re down a man in Solomon Kline, who was injured in an attack by unknown assailants last Warfare.

JC: They’re looking smug because they’re the ones who likely attacked him. Solomon was calling them out for their BS regarding the X-Treme title situation and it not being given back to him using the Freebird Rule.

JOE ROGAN: That could be true. I have a different theory, though.

JC: Joe, no.

JOE ROGAN: What if Solomon’s attackers were… aliens. Think about it.

JC: No. Joe. No. Please keep the conspiracy stuff on your podcast.

As they enter the ring, Jennie and Holly produce large baseball bats that they use to knock away the trash being thrown into the ring at them and especially Charlie.

CHARLIE NICKLES: New year. Same corporation. We’re not slowing down. Big shoutout to our boy Solomon. We’re gonna find who attacked you and destroy them, one of these days. But for now, we must keep our eye on the prize. This here X-Treme title. Our main man, Mr. Oz, the man who’s holding the fort down single-handedly on Anarchy, etched the only Anarchy defense needed to meet the 24/7 briefcase requirement tied to this here X-treme title fit so snugly around my ample waist.

The Nickleman does a silly little hip wiggle and pistol fingers “atta boy” to Mr. Oz, who simply nods in reply.

CHARLIE NICKLES: You all might be thinking since we’re down a man, that we’re fucked. We’re not. Trust me. See -

Holly misses one thrown trash item, a half-eaten hotdog, that scores a direct hit on Charlie. The Nickleman doesn’t miss a beat. He picks it up and finishes eating it for the stupid fan who just wasted half of their $27 jumbo X hot dog.

CHARLIE NICKLES: As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. We’re down a man, but we gained something, or better yet, someone, of tremendous value. We’ve hired a SUBJECT MATTER EXPERT on all things X-Treme. We’ve hired a CONSULTANT on the matters of X-Treme. We’ve hired a true CLASSIC in XWF. Someone who embodies what it is, someone who right this very moment is an X-Treme champion elsewhere. Please, Cleveland, for once in your lives, applaud something worth applauding, cause you sure as shit can’t do that with your sports teams…

More nuclear heat and trash are thrown into the ring. The Corporation fends it off, then turns their collective attention to the entrance ramp.

CHARLIE NICKLES: Cleveland…XWF…. All X-Treme lovers…. We in the Corporation present to you, the CLASSIC X-tremeist…..a bastard bitch like no other!

Sex Metal Barbie hits and the arena erupts—not cheers, but pure hostility—as Jenny Myst steps through the curtain like she owns the oxygen in the building.

She’s not rushing. She’s not soaking it in. She’s stalking.

Mortimer—the WGWF X-Division Championship—rests over her shoulder like a trophy pulled from a battlefield, not polished gold but something earned. She stops halfway down the ramp, tilts her head, and just listens. The boos rain down. The chants are ugly. The trash keeps flying.

Jenny smiles.

She raises a mic, and before she even speaks, she points slowly around the arena—left, right, up into the cheap seats.

JENNY MYST: Listen to yourselves.

The crowd gets louder. She laughs into it.

JENNY MYST: This right here? This is Cleveland at full volume. This is the sound of a city that mistakes noise for relevance and anger for passion.

She slides into the ring under the bottom rope, never breaking eye contact with the crowd. Jennie and Holly step back. Charlie leans against the ropes, grinning like he just hired a hitwoman.

Jenny lifts Mortimer off her shoulder and holds it up—not to the crowd, but away from them.

JENNY MYST: You people love to scream about X-Treme like it’s still something sacred. Like it still means pain, risk, obsession. But look at you. (pauses) ..  You’re soft. You’re lazy. You’re nostalgic for a violence you’d never survive today.

The boos hit DEFCON 5. Jenny talks right through them.

JENNY MYST: This company didn’t hire me back because I’m popular. They hired me because I’m honest. And the truth is—XWF didn’t get weaker overnight.

She taps the title.

JENNY MYST: You let it rot.

She steps closer to the hard camera now.

JENNY MYST: You replaced danger with gimmicks. You replaced hunger with entitlement. And now you’re shocked—shocked—that The Corporation brought in someone who remembers what X-Treme actually looks like.

She lowers the mic slightly, eyes cold.

JENNY MYST: I didn’t come here to save this division. I came here to expose it.

Jenny doesn’t even wait for the noise to die down.

She leans into it.

She lifts the mic again, eyes hard now, all humor burned off.

JENNY MYST: I don’t give a single shit about anyone here.

That line lands heavier than any insult. The crowd roars louder, angrier.

She nods, approving.

JENNY MYST: Good. That’s what I want. Boo louder. Throw more trash. I need you like this.

She paces slowly, dragging the mic along the rope, the feedback screaming with it.

JENNY MYST: Because the last time I walked into this company? I wanted something different. I wanted respect. I wanted connection. I wanted you to like me.

A sharp laugh.

JENNY MYST: I wanted to make friends. I wanted to belong. I wanted to be ‘one of you.

She stops dead center, staring straight into the hard cam.

JENNY MYST: And you ran me out of here.

The crowd keeps booing. Jenny’s voice drops, steadier now, colder.

JENNY MYST: You mocked me. You picked me apart. You decided I wasn’t enough for your version of X-Treme.

She shrugs.

JENNY MYST: So I left… and I became something you can’t touch.

She lifts Mortimer again, not high—low, intimate, possessive.

JENNY MYST: And now I’m back without the weakness. Without the hope. Without the need.

She steps closer to the ropes, glaring at the front row.

JENNY MYST: I don’t care if you cheer. I don’t care if you boo. I don’t care if you ever go home happy again.

She flips her hair.

JENNY MYST: I don’t care if anyone here lives or dies.

The heat is nuclear now.

Charlie grins. The Corporation stands tall behind her.

Jenny doesn’t raise her voice this time.

She raises her disdain.

She lifts the mic again, waits for the noise to crest—and then cuts straight through it.

JENNY MYST: Whoa. Whoa. Don’t flatter yourselves.

The crowd reacts, confused, still hostile.

JENNY MYST: That wasn’t about you, Cleveland.

A smirk.

JENNY MYST: You’re loud. You’re disposable. You’ll be gone in two hours and replaced by another city that thinks it matters.

She turns, slow and deliberate, eyes locking onto the hard camera.

JENNY MYST: I’m talking to the XWF roster.

The tone shifts. This isn’t crowd work anymore. This is a warning.

JENNY MYST: When I say I don’t care if anyone lives or dies—I’m not talking about the people buying tickets.

She taps her chest once.

JENNY MYST: I’m talking about the locker room. The people in the back who laughed when I left. The ones who whispered that I ‘couldn’t hang.’ The ones who stayed quiet because it was easier.

She steps toward the ropes, pointing straight down the camera lens.

JENNY MYST: You drove me out when I wanted your approval.

Her jaw tightens.

JENNY MYST: I came back without it.

Jenny lifts the mic one last time.

No pacing. No theatrics. Just venom.

JENNY MYST: So I’m here to say this real clear—

She gestures back over her shoulder at Charlie, at the bats, at the belts, at the smirks.

JENNY MYST: The Corporation didn’t just add a member.

A beat.

JENNY MYST: They just got a whole lot more X-Treme.

The crowd tries to drown her out. She doesn’t even blink.

JENNY MYST: And to the XWF roster…

She leans into the hard cam now, close enough it feels personal.

JENNY MYST: Fuck. Each. And every. One of you.

No pause for reaction. She keeps going.

JENNY MYST: I’m not here for classics. I’m not here for five-star matches. I’m not here for your respect, your nods, your little ‘great showing out there’ bullshit in the hallway.

She shakes her head slowly.

JENNY MYST: I’m not here for competition.

Her smile finally returns—thin, cruel.

JENNY MYST: I’m here for heat.

She drops the mic at her feet.

The music hits. The boos hit harder.

The Corporation stands tall around her as trash rains down, Jenny Myst staring out at the chaos like this was the only outcome she ever wanted–

CHARLIE NICKLES: Oh, Jenny-Jenny-Fo-Fenny-Fee-Fi-Fo-Jenny, you got so caught up in your passionate speech that you forgot one very important announcement. YOUR SIGN ON BONUS FOR JOINING THE CORPORATION! Ref… get in here!

Jenny has a downright she-devilish smirk on her face as a befuddled referee enters the ring inquiring about why they’re needed when this is not a match.

CHARLIE NICKLES: First off, shut the fuck up. You get paid to raise your hand up and down three times, not to ask questions. Now, Jenny here said she was here for HEAT. What better way to give her that than to give her a nice juicy corporate sign on bonus which will make her one of the most hated people on the roster right off the rip in her return? Jenny, I do believe by rules you must attack me.

The Nickleman unsnaps the XWF X-Treme title from around his waist and motions Jenny to bring it on. She does so by blowing on her fingers and DEMOLISHING Charlie with the legendary, mythical FINGER POKE OF DOOM!

Charlie falls over like he’s been hit with the biggest finisher ever. The crowd can’t believe their eyes. Jenny drops down and initiates the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING DING DING

That familiar voice booms over the speakers… “YOUR WINNER AND NEEEEEEWWWWWWWWW XWF X-TREME CHAMPION…. JENNY MYST!!!!!”

The corporation was getting nuclear heat moments ago, but now the level of heat they’re getting is on a world-ending existential crisis level.

Earlier, they were being thrown trash; now it’s not just trash, but also chairs. Joe Rogan and JC are in such hysterics that they aren’t necessarily speaking but grunting and howling in man-speak.

Charlie bolts to a stand and eagerly does the honors of fastening the XWF X-Treme Championship around Jenny’s waist. The rest of the Corporation take their turns congratulating her in their own ways, even as trash and chairs are being flung at them.

It’s chaos that the security crew are trying to manage. After mogging the fans some more, the Corporation’s music hits and they bail out of the ring like a bunch of bosses.

---

We’re underway here, live, from the sold-out Rocket Arena in Cleveland!








The show is quickly interrupted by the sound of a distant synthesizer, followed up by horses neighing and galloping through the dirt. It fades out, leading into the riff of a guitar strumming a fiery tune. There's an inherent electricity building within the air of the arena, culminating as the drums kick in. As they do, the steadfast figure of Scoops McGee comes out from the back, a look of no nonsense etched onto his face as he takes a long look at the crowd and the squared circle.

He nods, steadily walking to the ring and absentmindedly high-fiving any fans stretching out their hands who happen to be right in his way. He makes his way over to ringside, climbing up the steps methodically and stepping onto the ring apron. He saunters about halfway across the apron, taking one last long look at the crowd as they give their reception to the seasoned vet. Scoops stretches his arms out wide, accepting everything they've got to give before stepping into the ring.

Scoops skulks over to his corner, pacing there and doing some small stretches to keep himself warmed up before the match begins.



This raucous crowd is on it’s feet, a sea of winter coats and beer cups and homemade signs, because they know what an X-Treme Rules match means when you put a seventy-four year old folk hero in there with a Brooklyn pitbull starved from his crown.

JC: The bell rings! And the mood changes, Joe! Scoops McGee has lived through wars in this business. But Isaiah King? That man starts wars.

JR: Dude, I’m telling you, this is the kind of fight where the rules don’t protect you… your conditioning protects you. And Scoops is tough, but Isaiah’s the kind of guy who can take years off you with one good shot.


Scoops circles, shoulders loose, hands up. He’s not bouncing. He’s not wasting steps. He’s measuring, the way an old gunslinger measures a draw.

Isaiah King stands taller, chin tucked, eyes locked. He gives Scoops a half-smirk like he’s already seen the ending.

They meet in the center.

No lock-up.

Isaiah fires a stiff jab right at Scoops’s nose!

Scoops slips it and answers with a short, vicious left forearm that cracks off Isaiah’s cheek!

The crowd detonates.

JC: CATTLE PROD! He clipped him clean!

Isaiah shakes it off like he got splashed with cold water. Then…


BANG-BANG-BANG!

JAB! JAB! JAB!

Scoops eats one on the mouth, one on the chest, and the third lands like a hammer on his eye socket!

Scoops staggers back a step, angry now, and throws a right hand.

Isaiah slides inside it, like he’s been waiting for it, and rips a liver shot under Scoops’s ribs.

Scoops folds, just a little, just enough for the building to gasp.

JR: Ohhhh. That’s not a wrestling shot. That’s a fight shot. Your body shuts down when you get hit there.

Scoops backpedals, hands instinctively moving to his side. Isaiah follows like a debt collector, throwing body blows in bunches. Scoops tries to buy space with a boot…

ISAIAH CATCHES THE LEG!

He snaps Scoops down into a snap suplex, dumping Scoops across the canvas with a thud.

Isaiah doesn’t cover. No pin yet. He leans in close, talking.

Scoops’s eyes narrow.

He kicks at Isaiah’s shin, scrambles up, and rushes.

Lou Thesz Press!

Scoops barrels Isaiah down, fists flying, old-school rage pouring out of him. The crowd roars with every punch like they’re watching a hometown riot.

Isaiah bucks hard, shoves Scoops off, pops up…

ROLLING ELBOW!!!!!

Scoops ducks, spins - - -

MERRY-GO-ROUND!

Spinning toe hold!

Isaiah’s legs scissor, he goes down hard!

Scoops grabs the ankle and yanks, dragging Isaiah to the ropes, but…

JC: Xtreme Rules, baby! No rope breaks, no saving you!

Scoops twists again, trying to torque the knee, but Isaiah boots him in the chest and breaks free. Isaiah rolls to the outside immediately, resetting his breathing, eyes scanning.

Scoops follows.

Bad idea.

Isaiah whips around and throws a standing knee strike right into Scoops’s gut, then another into his jaw. Scoops stumbles into the barricade.

Isaiah steps in and unloads corner-style body blows against the rail…

THUD-THUD-THUD

…like he’s tenderizing meat.

JR: He’s trying to ruin him early. You can’t be sixty-four and take that kind of sustained body work. The lungs, the ribs, everything starts to fail.

Scoops swings wild-

Isaiah slips it and spikes him with a rope-hung uppercut, hooking Scoops’s throat across the top of the barricade and blasting upward with a brutal rising shot that snaps Scoops’s head back.

Scoops spills to a knee, coughing, eyes watering.

Isaiah turns - sees the timekeeper’s table - and smiles.

He clears it with one sweep, tossing the monitor off like trash. Then he pulls Scoops up by the hair and shoves him toward it.

Scoops plants his boot. Stops.

Scoops pivots, grabs Isaiah’s wrist…

And yanks him forward into a PRAIRIE DOG!

Shoulder tackle through the gap, both men crash back toward ringside, slamming into the apron edge with a sickening bang.

JC: AMONG WILLOWS - - - NO!

PRAIRIE DOG THROUGH THE ROPES - - -ONLY THERES NO ROPES, THEY HIT PURE WOOD!

JR: Dude, the apron is the hardest part of the ring. That’s like getting hit with a countertop.

Scoops crawls first.

Isaiah is slow to rise.

Scoops reaches under the ring.

And the crowd immediately starts chanting:

“WE WANT TABLES!”

*clap-clap* *clap-clap-clap*

“WE WANT TABLES!”

*clap-clap* *clap-clap-clap*

Scoops pulls out a chair.

Then another.

Then, he pulls out a kendo stick, holds it up like a flag, and the crowd pops again!

Isaiah gets to his feet and eats a chair shot to the ribs.

He grunts, stumbles, gets another to the back.

Scoops jabs the kendo stick into Isaiah’s stomach, then cracks it across his shoulder.

Isaiah drops to one knee.

Scoops winds up for his signature - - -

CATTLE PROD!!!!

That short-arm left forearm swings in- - -

Isaiah surges forward at the exact moment, and Scoops’s forearm glances off.

Isaiah’s eyes flash - - -

ROYAL VERDICT.

A discus punch - tight arc- hip rotation - BANG!!!

Scoops gets hit so clean his whole body goes quiet.

He hits the mat flat on his back like the strings got cut.

Rocket Arena loses its mind.

JC: ROYAL VERDICT! ROYAL VERDICT! SCOOPS GOT HIS CLOCK CLEANED!

JR: That’s a knockout punch, man. That’s not “stunned.” That’s your brain restarts

Isaiah drops into a cover, smug.

ONE- - -











TWO- - -













Scoops kicks out!!!

Not pretty. Not strong. Just survival.

A boot drags free like a man refusing to die.

Isaiah sits back on his heels, offended.

He stands, points at Scoops.

And then he starts kicking him. Not flailing. Measured.

Kick to the ribs. Kick to the shoulder. Kick to the thigh.

Scoops rolls away, dragging himself toward the corner like a wounded animal.

Isaiah follows, grabs Scoops by the collar, and whips him into the ringpost.

Scoops turns at the last second and hits shoulder first, saving his skull.

He bounces off, breathless.

Isaiah steps in for another jab combo.

Scoops swings the chair up like a shield, the jabs clanging off metal.

Scoops shoves Isaiah back and blasts him with the chair across the spine.

Isaiah snarls.

Scoops tosses the chair aside, grabs Isaiah - - -

HIP TOSS right onto the chair he just discarded!!!

Isaiah’s back lands across it and he yells out, rage exploding.

Scoops drops a knee.

Then another.

Old-man brutality.

JR: People underestimate experience. Scoops knows where to put pain. That’s not fancy, that works

Scoops goes under the ring again.

He pulls out a table.

The Cleveland crowd goes insane!

Scoops slides it in. Sets it up near the corner.

He turns around - - -

Isaiah King is already up!

HE CHARGES!! Step-up - - -

ENZUIGIRI!!!!!!

The boot cracks Scoops behind the ear.

Scoops stumbles into the table and catches himself on it.

Isaiah rushes in, grabs him, and throws him into the corner!

Body blow, body blow, body blow!

Scoops’ arms come up too late, his ribs taking the tax.

Isaiah steps back, breathes, then runs in with a knee - - -

Scoops sidesteps and Isaiah’s knee hits the corner padding with a thump.

Scoops grabs him from behind.

SHINBREAKER!!!

Isaiah’s leg gets yanked across Scoops’s thigh and Isaiah drops with a shout.

Scoops doesn’t stop. He grabs the leg again.

MERRY-GO-ROUND into a spinning toe hold!!

Isaiah’s knee twists, his face tightens.

Scoops releases and stands.

The crowd rises.

Isaiah drags himself up on the ropes.

Scoops sprints…

RUNNING HIP ATTACK TO THE CORNER!!!!!

Isaiah gets crushed in the corner, breath punched out of him.

Scoops turns and points at the table.

He wants to put Isaiah through!

He hauls Isaiah up - - - tries to lift - - -

Isaiah fights it, elbows to the side of the head, forcing Scoops to loosen.

Isaiah slips behind, and -

SPINEBUSTER!!!!!

Scoops gets driven down so hard the ring shakes.

Isaiah’s chest heaves. He wipes his mouth.

Then he drags Scoops toward the table.

Scoops clutches at the mat, crawling, refusing.

Isaiah yanks him up - - -

Scoops swings his forearm again - - -

Isaiah ducks it and hooks the waist!

Gutwrench powerbomb position.

JC: Oh my God…

Isaiah hoists Scoops up!!!

Scoops’s legs kick once.

Isaiah steps forward

Scoops desperately reaches out and hooks the top rope.

Isaiah rips him free anyway- - -

Scoops drops behind him on landing and shoves

Isaiah collides with the table and it wobbles but doesn’t break.

Scoops staggers back.

Isaiah turns, furious.

Scoops charges…

Shoulder tackle through the ropes!

Isaiah goes spilling through the ropes to the floor, crashing down in a heap!!!

Scoops doesn’t follow immediately.

He pauses.

Hands on knees.

Breathing heavy.

Age showing.

JR: That’s the problem. Those big bursts? They cost you, Jackie. When you’re older, your body collects that debt immediately.

Scoops steps out… slowly.

Isaiah is already rising.

He throws a jab!

Scoops swats it aside! He answers with a neckbreaker on the floor, snapping Isaiah down.

Scoops leans over the apron and reaches under again.

This time he pulls out something shiny

The crowd reacts before we even see it.

A trash can!!!

Scoops claps it onto Isaiah’s head like a helmet, then picks the kendo stick back up, and cracks the side of the can like he’s beating ona drum.

THUNK.

Again.

THUNK.

Isaiah staggers blindly, metal wobbling.

Scoops winds up…

ONE MORE - - -

[white]JC:NOOOOOOO!!!!


Isaiah explodes forward, spears Scoops into the apron, trash can clattering away.

Isaiah grabs Scoops, shoves him onto the apron, and climbs up after him.

They’re standing on the apron now, precarious.

Isaiah hooks Scoops’ head.

Spinning motion.

JC: Don’t do it - - - NOT ON THE FLOOR!

THE KING’S DECREE - - - !

Isaiah spins for the impaler DDT!!!

BUT SCOOPS BLOCKS IT!!! He grabs the waistband, steps through the ropes, and backdrops Isaiah over the apron through the table inside the ring!!!!!

The table detonates.

Isaiah disappears into splinters.

Cleveland erupts!!!!

Scoops drops to his knees on the apron, eyes wide, like he can’t believe he just pulled that off

JC: HOLY - - -ISAIAH KING JUST GOT SENT THROUGH A TABLE LIKE A BAD CHECK!

JR: That’s insane, Jackie!

Scoops rolls in slowly, dragging himself to Isaiah.

He throws an arm over the chest.

ONE!!!











TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





JR: It’s gotta’ be over!










ISAIAH KICKS OUT!!!!!!


JC: If there’s one person who could kick out of that move it’s Isaiah King, Joe! This man has proven year after year that he has no surrender between those ropes!

Scoops’ face twists with disbelief, a hint of panic settling in on his brow.

He pushes up to one knee, breath hitching into his lungs, his left arm trembling as he reaches for Isaiah again, instinct over strategy now.

Isaiah doesn’t rush.

He sits up in the wreckage of the broken table.

Wood splinters cling to his shoulders. His hair hangs in his face. His chest rising and falling.

He looks at Scoops.

Smiling.

Slowly, Isaiah plants one boot.

Then the other.

He stands.

Scoops staggers forward, desperate, he twirls for momentum reaching for one more forearm - - - THATS ALL HE NEEDS! - - - IT’S COMING OVER HIS HEAD!

But Isaiah steps inside the swing and JAMS A STANDING KNEE STRAIGHT INTO SCOOPS’ CHEST!!!!!!!!!

Scoops folds inward with a sharp, animal sound.

Isaiah grabs him by the back of the head.

LIVER SHOT!!!!!!

Scoops drops to both knees instantly, gasping, eyes unfocused.

The crowd shifts from roar to shock.

JR: Oh no… that’s it. That’s the shutdown button, man!

Isaiah grabs Scoops by the wrist and yanks him up like a deadlift.

ROYAL VERDICT!!!!!!!!!

The discus punch detonates across Scoops’ jaw.

There is no sound from Scoops this time.

His legs betray him completely.

He collapses face-first into the mat.

Isaiah doesn’t cover.

He rolls Scoops over.

He positions him.

He hooks the head.

Spins.

THE KING’S DECREE.

Spinning Impaler DDT!!!!!

Scoops’ head and shoulders snap down into the canvas with a sick, final thud.

Isaiah floats over instantly, chest pressed to Scoops’ back, arm hooked deep.

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!









TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!









THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Winner: Isaiah King

The bell rings.

Cleveland is stunned into near silence!

JC: THAT’S IT!

THAT’S IT!

ISAIAH KING JUST PUT SCOOPS McGEE DOWN!

[white]JR: That wasn’t endurance. That wasn’t luck. That was execution.

JC: Joe, just when Scoops appeared to have some momentum, Isaiah King put it in another gear and delivered a brutal series of attacks!

JR: And that was all she wrote for poor old Scoops, man.

JC: With Scoops perhaps thinking ahead to all of that momentum he has outside of this match tonight, that looming Universal Championship clash, his heart might not have fully been in this one.

JR: Pfft, gimmie a break! Did you see how hard Scoops was fighting out there? Every time he wrestles he looks like he’s going to die. This match was all Isaiah King showing the world that he’s ready for the challenge that awaits him.

Isaiah doesn’t celebrate right away.

He stays seated over Scoops, one hand planted on the mat, breathing heavy

Then he rises.

He looks down at Scoops McGee—motionless, chest barely moving, eyes staring at nothing.

Isaiah nods once for confirmation.

He steps back as officials slide in, checking Scoops, turning him on his side.

Isaiah backs into the ropes.

And then….

The music hits.



The lights in the arena dip to black in time with the sirens and beat to the opening of Sweatpants (BattleTapes Remix) by Childish Gambino, the lights then beginning to flash, alternating left and right onto the ramp. In time, the letters "S", "E", "B", and then "Empire" flash one at a time on the big screen until the lights stop flashing as the lyrics hit.

"She askin' “Why you say that?!”

The beat drops and the lights flash on the rampway again. As they do, the screen illuminates with "SEB" and then "EMPIRE" flashing on the screen.

"Rich kid asshole, paint me as a villain"

Sebastian Everett-Bryce flings his arms wide, staring up with his head covered by the hood of his jacket. He stands in the middle of the ramp, the lights beating down on him, before looking out at the crowd. The current holder of the XWF World Tag Team Championships and 24/7 Briefcase holder, Sebastian Everett-Bryce microphone in hand, slowly starts to walk down the ramp.

“You know - I thought after War Games I’d managed to get a little closure. I thought, perhaps, I was going to be able to move on with my life - alas, here we are. Almost a year to the day after this entire thing started, I find myself still intrinsically linked with one man… A man who put his nose in my business a couple of weeks ago. A man who refused to listen when I said I wanted to defend the Tag Team Championships on my own,” said Seb, glancing down at the titles in his right hand.

The crowd popped as he slowly lifted them up into the air.

“So, given that my original assumption turned out to be incorrect, it would appear that I still have some business to take care of,” said Seb calmly. “With you, Isaiah”[/blue[

King watched Seb with amusement, shaking his head with each word, before walking to the corner of the ring and grabbing a microphone.

“Alright, Empress - get in here and say what you’ve got to say,” he said.

[blue]“You seem to think, despite the fact that I beat you at War Games, that you have some kind of… Claim over one of these titles,” said Seb calmly. “Whereas, I rightly believe that these Championships are mine to do with whatever I want… Pick a new partner every week… Defend them all by myself… If I really wanted to, I could walk back there and hand them back to one of billionaire bell-ends that own this company and tell them I’m done with Tag Team wrestling…” said Seb.

“Sure you could, if your massive ego would ever let you to. I have no delusion, Empress. I just saw a shitty stipulation, a slimey bastard and refused to let this tag-run run off on a foolish handicap match. We earned those titles together, we defended those titles together, I won’t let you drag it through the mud… Even if you have the right to.” said King.

“My point is - these are mine, Princeling,” said Seb holding up the Championships with a smirk on his face. “So whatever happens next, is up to me.”

“Alright, if you’ve got it all figured out, what did you come out here for?” asked King.

“Beause despite everything I just said, I know the next time I walk out here to defend these titles on my own, you’ll be there, stalking me, waiting to jump in and save the day like some unwanted guardian angel - which means, we have to do something about it - so tell me Isaiah,” said Seb, before stepping towards King, his jovial tone turning to business. “What exactly is it going to take to make you back… the fuck… off?”

Isaiah smirked, and nodded, before he stepped closer to Seb.

“How about this, Empress,” said King. “How about you and me, Snow Pain, Snow Gain - for those Tag Team Titles…”

Seb’s brow furrows.

“Are you suggesting we each pick a partner and…” Seb began.

“Nah, Bryce, that’s not what I’m suggesting - I mean you and me, one on one. The winner takes those titles, and they get to choose what happens next - and no matter what that is, has nothing to do with whoever loses.” said Isaiah.

“You mean to say…” said Seb, before his mouth curled into a grin. “I get to beat the shit out of you, and get you out of my life all at the same time?”

“You’re only half right - we finally end this thing between the two of us, but for that to happen, you’re gonna get your ass beat.” said Isaiah.

“I guess we’re just going to have to see about that, aren’t we?” said Seb. He offered his hand to shake, and King looked down at it…

A smirk, a scoff. King slaps the hand away and turns his back on his once-partner. A few steps away, he drops a shoulder and spins backwards, going for a thunderous elbow into SEB’s head. SEB braces himself, but Isaiah stops inches away from him.

“Can’t have the fun start too early, but lets not pretend this is friendly by any means.” Isaiah slips out of the ring, and walks back up the ramp, leaving his partner watching his back amused.

JC: Did you hear that, Joe!?! Snow Pain, Snow Gain! SEB vs King! One man will be leaving with both the tag-team championships!

JR: War Games was just the first taste of the schism! At Snow Pain, Snow Gain, the team once known as the Exiles will full-on EXPLODE!

---

Disembodied voice: WARFARE is filmed in front of a live studio audience.



The camera spins around showing The Director in a golden throne before being carried by pall bearers across the sea of barbwire until they reach the living room set and he steps down gracefully and enters the set with his hands behind his back and turns to survey the live studio audience.




The lights blast into a kaleidoscope of colors as the unsettling beat of “SICKO” by Health and Godflesh starts to play. The screens around the set flash a montage of eerie imagery of death, graphic pornography, blood, surgical scenes, and occult imagery (see the video for SICKO for an idea of what you’re seeing), interspersed with the words “DO AS THOU WILT”, “SODOMIZE THE INNOCENT”,  “DO CRIMES” and “BE EVIL”  throughout the imagery almost like subliminal messaging.

Samael Dyson hits the stage, flanked by Kristoffer Arroyo and a score of his sack wearing Insignificants.He's wearing a wrestling singlet with images of various sex acts airbrushed onto it. He orders the Insignificants to lay down in front of him and he walks on them like a human bridge as he makes his way across the barbed wire. Sam then vigorously humps the couch, screeching like a lunatic at the camera before getting to his feet and pacing the mat, muttering to himself and yelling at the fans in the front row.


JR: The FCC won’t be too happy about that.

JC: They’ve seen worse in the XWF.

JR: Worse than hardcore porn?

JC: You should have been here 10 years ago.

The ref opens the front door to the set and peeks his head inside.

“Hey!”

Roseanne Barr steps inside wearing a referee shirt and winking to the audience.

JR: Wow, didn’t know we had Roseanne money! Elon sure knows how to put on a show!

JC: …

“Let’s get this party started!”

Roseanne rolls her arm and-

DING! DING! DING!

Samael charges The Director before Roseanne begins the match and is on top of him at the end of the first bell ring, clawing wildly and throwing down strikes like a madman. The Director manages to get some breathing room with a precise elbow to Samael’s ribs and follows up with a spinning backfist. Dyson falls back and goes over the couch tipping it over.

On the ground, Samael’s lip is already busted open as he smiles manically as he crawls to an end table and grabs the vase atop it and hurls it at The Director! He manages to get his arms up as the vase smashes into piece on impact and Samael rushes him again with the distraction and throws the ball of his palm into The Director’s mask before throwing an hellish kick into his groin!


Roseanne grimaces as The Director drops to his knees and Samael holds the top of his head with an evil grin, humping the air in front of Director with a laugh before reeling back an arm and throwing a strong punch into The Director’s head.

JC: Samael is sloppy, but there is some power behind his moves here. It might be safe to say The Director wasn’t prepared for someone so unorthodox.

JR: All I know is Samael ain’t no boxer, looks like he fractured his hand on that punch. Why would you punch a guy with a big heavy mask on, in the face?

Director drops to the floor as Samael whips his hand in a shock of pain and grasps it as he follows The Director crawling on the floor towards the coffee table. As Samael gets close, Director grabs the table and whips it into Samael’s shins!


Dyson hops for a moment before falling to the side grabbing his shins and The Director pushes himself up grabbing the table and hurling it over his head down onto Samael! The wood breaks apart over Dyson’s body who shivers in agony as splinters sticks into his body.

Director drops to his knees and falls on top of Samael as Roseanne looks around awkwardly before being told off set to count the pin.

ONE!




TWO!



Samael throws a shoulder up!

THREE!

Roseanne is told off set on the proper way to count a pin.

As Samael sinks his teeth into The Director's shoulder.

JR: Samael learned something from Arroyo there.

The Director howls in pain as he throws forearm after forearm into Samael to stop the bite, Dyson loosens and The Director wraps his hands around Samael’s throat beginning to choke the life out of Dyson.

Samael pushes his fingers into the holes in Director’s mask but they’re smacked away as Director pushes down with all his weight onto Samael’s throat. Dyson’s eyes bulge as he looks to the side and motions off camera; spittle flying from his mouth as he hisses out words.

The Director is swarmed and tackled off Dyson by “The Insignificants” who dog pile on him as Samael makes choked coughs sitting up with his back against the upturned couch. The Director fights off his attackers but is in a losing situation as he loses the numbers game.

Roseanne walks over kind of worried and tells “The Insignificants” to get lost to no avail. Fortunately, The Director’s pall bearers enter and rush Samael’s lackeys starting a brawl between the two sides that rages throughout the set.

JC: This isn’t a match, it’s WAR!

Samael throws his head back and looks almost annoyed that this isn’t over and steps up to meet The Director who breathes heavily, clutching his ribs.

The two lock eyes and charge!

Swinging wild hooks at one another!

Lefts and rights hit and miss as the two brawl into the center of the set. The Director manages to get a chop into Samael’s throat and kicks him in the gut for a DDT but one of The Insignificants rushes in and pushes The Director away into the wall! The Director forearms him away and a pall bearer tackles the goon through the drywall and into the kitchen set! The Director marches back to Dyson but is jumped by a lackey who latches onto his back and locks in a chokehold!

Samael clicks his fingers and a gauntlet is brought to him which he dons as another lackey sets it alight, Dyson holds the flaming gauntlet with a satisfied look. He walks towards The Director, still in the hold.

Samael reels back!

And throws a punch with the gauntlet!

But it is blocked as a pall bearer throws his body in front of the hit!

The Director throws himself forward and hurls the lackey over himself and into Samael who is bowled over!

The Director ducks a hit from one lackey and picks up a table leg from the ground, smashing into one of them before swinging it across the other and rushes Samael with the leg above his head, he throws it down but Dyson breaks it with a swipe of his gauntlet and lunges forward getting into a grapple with The Director as the two stumble off the set and fall into the barbed wire!

They plunge and are instantly stuck, hisses of pain from both men as blood quickly pools from both of them. Samael falls on top of The Director and pulls his arm back to strike but The Director barely manages to hold Dyson’s arm away and pushes the flaming gauntlet near Samael’s face!

Dyson yells in pain, staring wildly into The Director’s eyes as the two struggle in the wire.

Samael gets his free hand and pushes two fingers down his throat.

JC: The hell is he doing!?

And vomits over The Director!


JC: Oh that is disgusting!

JR: Smart though, can’t say I’ve never seen it before.

The Director involuntarily flinches and moves his hands towards his face and Dyson takes the time to strike!



JR: FLAMING THUMPER HEART PUNCH!!!!



Dyson throws a deadly strike into The Director’s chest!

His body seizes up for a moment, the fire clinging briefly to his outfit before dying out like the flames of the gauntlet.

And The Director falls still.

Samael laughs, sounding almost drunk, as he raises his arms into the air and Roseanne, seeing far more than enough calls for the final bell.

Winner: Samael Dyson

Samael is lifted from the barbed wire by “The Insignificants” as his music hits and Roseanne lifts his arm into the air.


Samael twists Roseanne’s arm and leans her over as he forcibly makes out with her.

JC: What a vile, depraved man. That wasn’t wrestling! That was a mess.

JR: It’s entertainment, Jack! Like it or not, that guy is entertaining!



Dyson tosses Roseanne away before pointing at The Director, exhaustedly rising from the set floor…

In an instant, The Director finds himself surrounded. Two insignificants and Kristoffer Arroyo stalk him in a circle. He welcomes the challenge, brandishing his whip. He cracks it against the ground as the two insignificants rush in. He swings the whip right across the face of one insignificant while the other tackles him, knocking the whip out of his hands. The Director pushes the insignificant off him and throws hands landing a few punches on both insignificants. They fight back and overwhelm him as Arroyo and Dyson look on.


The insignificants restrain The Director as Arroyo approaches and backhands him. He lifts his arm to smack him again, but someone grabs his arm!



JC: Is that?


JR: The good doctor Holly Cambric!


JC: What’s she doing here?


JR: Well Samael Dyson has been calling out Jenny Myst and she’s the newest member of the Corporation. Pay attention, dude!


Holly Cambric and Kristoffer Arroyo face off and The Director breaks free from the insignificants. The Director hits the insignificants with a double clothesline. Holly and Kristoffer trade blows back and forth. Kristoffer charges, clothesline, but Holly ducks and Kristoffer hits The Director!



JC: Direct hit!


JR: I see what you did there!


JC: What do you mean?


JR: Nevermind. But look, Samael Dyson is getting involved!


JC: He kicks her leg from behind, taking her down.


Kristoffer and Samael stomp Cambric. But here comes Jennie Nickles to even the odds! She comes in with a chair and smacks Arroyo with it! She swings the chair at Dyson, but he ducks under it and kicks her in the stomach. He grabs the chair and lifts it over his head. Boom! Final Cut from the Director! He’s taken the twisted spawn of Madison Dyson down!


Cambric is up! She and Jennie start laying in the punches to a downed Arroyo. The Director starts choking Samael!



JC: I don’t like the guy, but someone’s gotta stop this! The match is over!


JR: Don’t forget who started this fight. It was that vile creature of the night Kristoffer Arroyo and those filthy insignificants!



Jennie and Holly throw Arroyo off the side of the sound stage and turn to attack Samael, whom the Director is now raining punches down on. The two women of the corporation begin stomping on the downed Dyson.


WHACK! Jennie falls.



JC: It’s Clutch Cassidy!


JR: The other half of the Anarchy tag champions hit Jennie from behind with her tag title belt!



Cambric and Cassidy brawl as Dyson manages to push The Director off. Dyson is up. Director and Dyson exchange punches. Jennie gets up and hits Cassidy from behind. Clutch turns toward Jennie, but Cambric grabs both of her arms, holding her in place while Nickles punches her in the face over and over.



JC: The Anarchy tag team champions are outnumbered, but does this mean The Director has joined the Corporation?


JR: Well he certainly isn’t turning down the help!



Double team DDT from Jennie and Holly to Clutch Cassidy! They turn their attention toward Dyson who has gotten the upper hand in his fight with the Director. Double superkick to Dyson from Jennie and Holly! The Director picks up his whip. The women hold Dyson down on the floor as the Director begins to whip him across the back. Once. Twice. Thrice. He relentlessly whips Dyson ten times! The lacerations are bright red across the back of Samael. The Director laughs. He cracks the whip on the ground and takes one last look at the destruction he helped make before walking away. The broken bodies of the Anarchy tag champions lay reeling on the floor as Jennie Nickles and Doctor Holly Cambric also make their exit.



JC: Absolute chaos here tonight in the arena.


JR: I love it! Give me more chaos! This is the land of X-Treme and now that the Corporation has Her X’cellency Jenny Myst and possibly even the Director on board, I expect there’s more where that came from.

---

The arena is suddenly plunged into a deep, sickly emerald green and oppressive black as the colossal, pounding choir and tympani of "O Fortuna" erupt across the speakers. The ring announcer's voice booms with a strained tremor, introducing her as the "collector of destiny, the architect of sorrow, the bearer of the Curse of Vanity! Prepare yourselves for the Wicked... Witch... of... WRESTLING!"

A thick cloud of low-lying smoke begins to creep out from the ramp. As the music hits its powerful, sweeping orchestral swell, a single, intense spotlight cuts through the fog, revealing the Wicked Witch of Wrestling standing motionless at the top of the ramp. Her silhouette is framed by her long, tattered black robes, and she clutches her ornate black cauldron in one hand. She slowly lifts her hideous green face, unleashing a piercing, amplified cackle that slices through the powerful chorus, marking the start of her slow, deliberate, and arrogant march to the ring.

JC: Now, here she is, Joe! The wicked witch of wrestling who is called… The Wicked Witch of Wrestling. What info could you dig up on here, color-man!

JR: Well, she’s green!

…

JC: …And?

JR: And she’s dressed in black!

JC: …Joe, you were supposed to get some background on her so we’d have stats to reference throughout the match!

JR: You didn’t tell me that! You just said it was my job to cover the color! I did! She’s green and she’s dressed in black!

She walks with a heavy, powerful stride, staring at the crowd with utter contempt; she may pause to dramatically swipe her arm at any fan who dares reach out, dismissing them as a trivial nuisance. As she nears the ring, she briefly pauses her march, dipping a finger into the cauldron and smearing a bit of a dark, oily substance onto herself before the confrontation. She then mounts the steel steps with intimidating ease and stomps into the ring, scaring the hell out of the ref and the fans at ringside.

Once inside, she carefully places her cauldron on the apron and steps to the center of the ring, turns slowly to face all directions of the arena, and finally raises both hands above her head as if concluding a dark ritual, just as the final, dramatic crash of the "O Fortuna" music cuts out, leaving the venue in a terrifying, expectant silence.



The opening riff of "Wild Thing" hits. The crowd gives a mixed reaction as Centurion steps out from behind the curtain.

He walks straight down the ramp with his focus solely on the ring ahead of him.

JC: Centurion! XWF Legend! Literally the man with the most wins across XWF history!

JR: But how long until it’s time to put him out to pasture, Jacuinde! How long until the next generation of XWFers come! That’s what we’re set to find out at Snow Pain, Snow Gain as the TV Title will be on the line between the XWF’s past in Centurion… and it’s future in Amber Mansley!

JC: Amber is definitely off to an explosive start in the XWF, but I think Cent would take umbrage at the idea of being the XWF’s past… Especially fresh off Anarchy where he scored a pinfall over the reigning Universal champion!

Reaching the apron, Centurion climbs up and steps through the ropes.

He moves to the nearest corner, briefly raising his arm to the crowd before stepping back down, settling into his corner, waiting for the match to begin.

The Witch, also in his corner, cackles insidiously as a form of greeting. Cent exhales, already exhausted by his teammate’s antics, but manages to force out a cordial nod of acknowledgement.

JC: This might be the oddest couple I’ve ever seen in the XWF! One is a hideous, haggard old creature that could be hundreds of years old!

JR: And the other is a green lady!



Helix Nebula by Anamanaguchi blasts as colored lights in beat to the rhythm pass over the roaring crowd. When the beat kicks in Game Girl swoops down from the rafters on her flying cloud, Nimbus, going over fans and reaching down to give them passing high fives before sailing over to the ring and flipping down to her feet into a fist-raising pose.

JC: Game Girl! One of the most beloved, sweetest of sweethearts in the XWF canon!

JR: But don’t be fooled, Jacuinde! Game Girl is a devastatingly effective opponent! A two-time WarGames finalist! AND twice in her career, she’s been on the winning War Games team, including this most recent War Games!

JC: Indeed, Joe! Game Girl is one of the best teammates in XWF history! And she’s teaming with a fellow War Games winner! But… how will they pair together tonight?




“Break It Down” by Lil Debbie plays the venue’s interior surround systems. The audience immediately boos the young athlete coming out from the backstage area smiling at the hatred she receives. Amber stands center stage with her hands on her hips, staring out to the audience before doing a slow twirl where a spotlight shines only on her, creating the illusion of a silhouette. Once she faces the audience again, she snaps her fingers, and the lights return to normal before strutting down to the ring like on a model’s runway.



ANNOUNCER: "Introducing on her way to the ring! Hailing from Boca Raton, Florida! At five feet, seven inches tall, weighing in at 143 pounds! She is “The Influence” Amber Mansley!

JC: And there she is! The Influence herself! Amber Mansley! Amber has been on the hottest of hot streaks as of late! She scored her first XWF championship win at War Games! Her team managed to go all the way to the winner’s circle at War Games! And she’s managed to secure a spot in the TV Title Tourney final!

JR: It’s an impressive run for sure, Jacuinde! But the tough thing about winning when you’re new is the oldheads with experience have the wherewithal to plan out your tricks. Amber’s been incredibly impressive, but Centurion might be the hardest challenge she’s ever faced in her young career! She’s got the energy and ability… but he has miles of experience on her!

JC: Now, Joe, weren’t you just saying that Cent is past his prime and Amber is the future?

JR: Yep. But, two things. One, the past is always out to deny the future, as Amber and GG are claiming Cent does.

JC: And two?

JR: Two, It’s my job to take the opposite side of whoever comes down the ramp. If I just said they were great and everyone loves them, this commentary would be boring as fuck.


Amber stops before the apron facing the ring, then looks both ways at the fans at ringside booing her. She gently leans over the apron, shrugs her shoulders, and then kisses the camera. Amber holds onto the bottom rope with both hands before spinning herself into the ring, lying on the canvas in the center. The camera transitions to a sky-view with a single spotlight on her in the arena, and from the camera’s point of view, it looks like an artwork of Amber in a silhouette fashion. She gets back on her feet, snaps her finger to alert production to brighten the lights, and silences her music as she takes refuge in a corner, kicking her body up on the top rope to relax.


All four competitors are in the ring, staring across from one another.

Suddenly, the bell rings!

Centurion and The Wicked Witch of Wrestling - vs - Game Girl and Amber Mansley Tornado Tag Teams can either choose to do 2 solo RPs at 2k each OR 1 collab RP @ 4k

SUMMARY

JC: Now, this is a tornado tag match, Jacuinde! Which basically means… no tags at all!

JR: Absolutely, Jacuinde! We’re going to see pure, unbridled chaos from all four competitors here!

The moment the bell rings, it fucking KICKS OFF!

Game Girl initially tries to talk strategy with Amber, but Amber ignores immediately charges after Centurion, throwing a chaotic barrage of paintbrush smacks and right hands that Cent managed to narrowly duck, dodge, dip, dive, and dodge through!

Game Girl dives in to support her teammate, but from the opposing team’s corner, the Witch retrieves from her wrestling glove, a mysterious vial!

JR: Look out! She’s got a mysterious vial!

JC: A mysterious vial?!?

As Witch uncorks the vial, Game Girl sees Witch looking at Cent and Amber trade hands and gets a big exclamation point over her head! Witch spills the vial forward toward Amber…

But GG dives in the way and catches the vial contents to the face!

JR: Oh no! She’s melting! SHE’S MELTING!

JC: She is NOT melting, Joe! She’s just… whoa, visibly seeing stars!

Indeed, like a Tex Avery cartoon, stars are spinning around GG’s head! She’s confused!

The Witch cackles as GG goes to break into a run, trying a Quick Attack!

But she’s confused!

…Question mark? Question mark?

WHAM! Her fist flies into her own face!

JC: What the hell?!?

JR: GG hurt herself in her confusion!

The Witch laughs diabolically *and* nefariously as GG rubs her chin, as if wondering where that punch came from…

JC: Cent and Witch may be the odd couple, but they’re currently meeting their opponents in exactly the style that’s counteracting them!

JR: And Amber and GG have yet to come together as a team!

Amber, desperate to break through Centurion’s perfectly-timed veteran defenses, goes for broke and swing with a wild, spinning back-elbow!

But Cent ducks, catches Amber with a fistful of hair… And cutters her to the mat!

Meanwhile, GG is no longer confused!

JC: Game Girl has managed to wrap her mind around fighting a Witch in a wrestling match! Something I still haven’t quite managed myself…

JR: Oh no! Are you confused, Jacuinde? Don’t hurt yourself! Here, put a wallet in your mouth!

Game Girl goes for a SHORYUKEN style uppercut! Straight to the Witch’s chin! The Witch’s head ROCKS backward! She looks like she might be out on her feet!

JC: Oh my! The Witch might be a glass cannon! She can dish it, but she can’t take it!

Under her glove, the Witch woozily rubs a ring on her finger… through the glove, one of her fingers looks… sharp… like she’s wearing a shard of glass on her finger!

As she rubs it, her neck CRANKS back down! She cackles hideously, as if the punch had no effect!

JC: What the hell is going on with this Witch, Joe!

JR: I don’t know , Jacuinde! But on a color front, I can report Game Girl is looking red!

Indeed, Game Girl appears a little miffed this Witch brought so many magic combat artifacts to a wrestling match! She aims for another big strike…

But from behind, Cent bowls Game Girl onto her face with a double leg takedown!

JC: Uh oh! The numbers game is kicking in! Cent managed to drop Amber early and now it’s a two-on-one power play!

Witch cackles, drawing her fingers at Centurion in a fondly evil or evilly fond way… Cent rolls his eyes, but manages to nod.

Centurion and Wicked Witch doing double team moves like Suplex and start tandem stomping out Game Girl in the middle of the ring.

JC: Oh my! I don’t know if Game Girl brought any extra lives, but Cent and Witch are looking to stomp the life out of her early!

Suddenly, from behind, Amber then jumps onto Wicked Witch , grabbing her hair, which a strand of it clumps in her hand, and the Wicked Witch screams and hits Amber with a Claw Slap!

Amber’s jaw rocks backward, when Witch pulls on Amber’s hair, dragging her toward the ropes before delivering a closed fist punch to Amber’s jaw, driving her back into the corner!

JC: Very wise moves here by the Wicked Witch of Wrestling! Team up on your opponents when one is standing, isolate them when they’re both standing!

JR: Straight outta tag-teaming 101! Can GG and Amber recover to try and turn this around?

Meanwhile, back in the center of the ring, Centurion is working on the left leg on Gamer Girl, with stomps to it, before wrapping his bicep around her throat into a chinlock!



JC: Uh oh! GG is running out of oxygen!

JR: …Is that what that music means? Can you hear that too!

JC: Yes, I can and it is giving me SO MUCH ANXIETY!

The fans chant GG’s name as Cent tightens his grip around her throat as the ominous music gets faster and faster…

She raises her arms as it reaches a possible crescendo…

WHAM! She manages to break Cent’s grip! And the crowd goes wild!

JC: Incredible hardiness on display by Game Girl!

Cent goes to grapple GG back under his control, but GG manages to BACKFLIP LEAPFROG over Cent!

JR: Incredible acrobatic athleticism!

Cent spins around, just as GG delivers a…



BOOM!

JC: What the hell just happened!

JR: I… I don’t know if the english language can describe it! All I know is GG hit Cent like 13 times in two seconds, it did… *quick mental math*... 95 damage! And Cent is now prone status!

Indeed, Cent is cradling his stomach on the mat, as GG stretches her fingers, carpal tunnel setting in after that viciously complicated combo!

Witch manages to drop Amber in the corner by the bottom turnbuckle with a series of kicks to the gut.

Meanwhile, GG goes to the top rope, looking to finish off Centurion…

JC: This could be it!

But, that moment, the Wicked Witch retrieves from her singlet… Black powder on Gamer Girl ! Game Girl covers her eyes and falls backward! Wham, she smacks into the apron before rolling down to the padded concrete!

[white]JC: The Witch is pulling out every trick in the book to keep her team in control!

JR: If it’s a witch, is it every trick in the tome?

Amber furiously shoves herself out of the bottom corner as the Witch points and cackles at GG! and the two have a “catfight” in the ring, Amber wringing Witch by her hair and throttling her back against the ropes!

JC: The Witch may be a Witch, but Amber is That Bitch! And she is done taking shit from this green hag!

JR: Nice use of Amber’s lingo, Jacuinde!

JC: I literally read it off her twitter, she decided to post a quick pic with caption from the corner before attacking the Witch!

Witch tries to pry herself out of Amber’s grip, but Amber is locked in on keeping the Witch grappled… until Centurion pulls Amber off Wicked Witch, and knees her in the gut!

JC: Incredible coverage by Cent! He might not *like* the Witch, but he knows the secret to victory is keeping his teammate in this match!

Cent drags the doubled-over Mansley to the corner, and tries to slam her head onto the top turnbuckle, but Amber blocks the head slam agilely with her boot, before catching Cent with an elbow to the gut!

JC: Amber Mansley is a one woman wrecking crew!

JR: The Influence is having a major influence trying to turn this match around!

As Cent collapses backwards against the corner, Amber climbs the ropes, looking to deliver some ten-count punches corner!

The crowd counts along!

ONE!

TWO!


THREE!

FOUR!


FI-

Cent manages to raise his guard, before catching Amber with an uppercut from below!

JC: Incredible wherewithal by Centurion!

JR: And, like magic, the Witch is right in position to take advantage of the opening Cent just created!

Indeed, as Amber cradles her jaw woozily, Wicked Witch tucks her head between Amber’s legs, securing her in a Electric Chair position. Witch beckons Cent to climb to the top rope!

JC: Witch may have the broomstick, but she wants Cent to fly!

Cent groans… before begrudgingly climbing to the top rope!

JR: Oh my God! Cent is climbing! It’s dangerous to fall at his age!

Centurion readies the dive, going for a…

DOOMSDAY DEV-

…No!

From the outside, Game Girl has climbed up to the apron and kicks the turnbuckle! Cent loses his balance and gets crotched on the top turnbuckle!

JC: Oof! That’s why they call it high risk!

Witch grunts furiously at GG’s resistance, slamming Amber onto her face!

Amber rubs her face, agonized as the Witch charges GG!

But GG is ready! She rapidly jams on her punch button!



Hundred Hands Slaps!

JC: GG just hit Witch with one-hundred hands!

JR: Witch is gonna have to rub her ring a LOT of times to undo every one of those punches!

Witch gets ROCKED back into the corner, flopping onto her face… GG goes to follow up…but her momentum stops when Centurion grabs her fist and locks in a Hammerlock, before quickly converting to grapple GG’s arms behind her back!

JC: GG is going Street Fighter 2, but Cent just pulled out the two-player grapple from Double Dragon!

JR: Surprisingly up-to-date from Cent! I thought his only video game reference might be a pong paddle. Or a ball attached to a cup by a string!

Wicked Witch slowly rises to her feet, apparating her broom! She reels back to strike GG with it!

But in a flash, Amber kips up ontp her feet and hits a Poison Rana on Wicked Witch. Then she runs to the ropes and hits a Running Knee onto Centurion!

JC: As just like that, the House of Hardcore is getting back into this match!

Witch shakes her head, rolling outside the ring to briefly recover… But Amber Mansley…

IS.

NOT.

DONE.

She sprints toward the ropes, bounces off them for speed…

HEAT SEEKING MISSILE THROUGH THE ROPES TO THE OUTSIDE ON THE WICKED WITCH!

JC: This one could be over! Things are all going House of Hardcore’s way!

As Witch and Amber are tangled outside in a mass of limbs, GG lifts Cent slowly up to his feet…

Cent woozily rocks back and forth as GG… charges up her robotic arm!

JC: Oh my! Cent can NOT afford to take this one on the chin!


She’s charged up….


ELECTRIC WIND GOD FIST!

…

MISS!

Cent manages to duck under!

[white]JC: Phew! Timely recovery by Cent! If he gathered himself a split-second later, GG would have taken his head off with that one!

GG’s fist flies around two and a half whole rotations! Hitting nothing, she’s briefly dizzy… Cent manages to catch her from behind with a schoolboy pin!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-GG kicks out!

JC: Phew! Cent almost stole that one!

On the outside, Wicked Witch and Amber are straight brawling into the front row! The Witch is heaved into the barricade and Amber is about to finish her with a running knee!

…When a blonde young lady fan in the front row asks for a selfie with the Influence! Amber immediately is down for a quick selfie!

JC: Amber Mansley always making time for her most devoted fans!

Amber is firmly barking orders to her fan about proper camera angle and filter… before they finally settle on the proper framing! Amber smiles!

FLASH! Just as the Wicked Witch chop blocks Amber from behind!

JC: The Wicked Witch takes out Amber!

JR: Even worse, Jacuinde! She ruined the photo!

The fan checks the camera! Gasp! It’s unpostable! The Witch tries to follow up on Amber with a grapple, but the fan throws water at Wicked Witch!

JR: Oh no! She’s melting! SHE’S MELTING!

JC: Joe, why do you think everyone is melting!?! The Witch is visibly not melting!

Indeed, the Witch remains corporeal, but is visibly FURIOUS to be drenched by the fan! The Witch goes after the fan…

But Amber manages to catch Witch from behind, back suplexing her onto the barricade!

The crowd pops!

Amber slides back into the ring, just as GG slips out the back of a 1000-Mile Slam attempt by Cent!

They both Irish whip Cent…

DOUBLE-CLOTHESLINE! Cent drops onto his back…

Amber follows it up with a standing…

PICTURE-PERFECT MOONSAULT!

She covers Cent as Game Girl circles the pin defensively…

JC: This might be it! Cent looks rough!

JR: And the Witch is nowhere in sight!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-
WICKED WITCH ZOOMS TO THE RING IN A PUFF OF SMOKE TO BREAK UP THE COUNT!


JC: Where the Hell did she come from?!?

Game Girl spins around shocked, going for a Megaman slide dash on Witch!

But Witch floats over! She doesn’t hop, she literally floats over… And boots GG in the face!

GG reels back toward the ropes… where Cent manages to shove himself off the mat and clothesline her over the top to the outside!

JC: Cent drives GG outside! That leaves Amber and Witch!

JR: And Amber made some pretty strong references to witches and trials and such, Jacuinde! Some fiery words between them!

Witch goes to strike Amber with a sudden boot!

But Amber side-steps, catches Witch with a knee to the gut!

JC: Water might not melt the Witch, but that strike looks like it knocked the air out of her lungs so hard, she might as well be melted!

Amber grabs Witch by the scalp, and flexes her bicep, signalling for her finish!

JC: We saw Amber break this move out on Latoya Hixx! The Slay Boo forearm smash!

Amber hucks Witch toward the ropes!

She reels back her arm!

SLAY BOO!

…

CONNECTS!

…

BUT BY THE WITCH ON AMBER!


JC: What?!?

The crowd explodes in shock and awe! As Amber was reeling back, the Witch managed to surprise her with her own move! A pop-up forearm smash!


JC: The Witch just stole Amber’s finishing move!

Witch collapses onto Amber!

The official counts!

ONE!

Game Girl rises off the padded concrete!

TWO!

Her little legs are kicking to get back in the ring!

…

But Cent’s got her by the collar! She doesn’t realize she’s not moving!

THREE!

Winner: Centurion and The Wicked Witch of Wrestling!

JC: A shocking upset! Witch-Cents finds a way, despite being as unconventional a pairing as we’ve seen in the XWF to beat two of the four competitors that just won War Games!

---

…

The lights die without warning. Not a fade, but a full blackout that sucks the air out of the arena like the calm before a fire. Then, a strobing light, lime green, flares beneath the metal of the floor. Another, quicker and sharper. A third, holding longer now. Long enough for the crowd to catch a glimpse of the static forming on the screen overhead.

The distorted bass of “DEATHLIST” by Code: Pandorum and GHØSTKID blares across the arena’s speaker system low, grinding and industrial. It doesn't start like music, but more like a warning. Like the hum of something broken beneath concrete.The speakers rattle, and with them the crowd begins to stir as the opening continues to play, rhythmic and angry. Noise from the crowd rolls through like a cold draft in a sealed room, a few cheers, a few chants. But mostly unease.


Whispered, the lyric doesn't rise above the crowd but cuts under it, precise and personal. The music drops out completely, not a fade, and not a glitch, just the same as the lights as they die out entirely. But then, detonation as the bass slams back in without warning, twisted and violent, louder than before. Strobe lights erupt in a manic wash of toxic green, casting sharp, flickering shadows across the sate. It's disorienting, like a spotlight wielded as a weapon. Motionless in that moment, Dickie Watson stands framed in light. No grand pose, no war cry, hair falling in his face and shoulders loose like man who doesn't need to prove he belongs here -- he already knows he does.

JC: Dickie Watson! The current reigning Universal champion! One of the only men who can claim they’ve pinned King Kieran King!

JR: It’s been a rocky road recently though for the man who calls his journey the climb! Since pulling off the War Games victory of the century, he and Scoops butted heads and ended up with a no-contest for the Tag Titless… and then Dickie got eliminated in his triple-threat match on Anarchy with Centurion and Kieran King!

JC: But we’ve seen him access another gear when it comes to the main event, Joe! And tonight, Dickie Watson is in the main event! And not only is he facing a former Universal champion… he’s facing one of three men that are demanding a shot against him at Snow Pain, Snow Gain!

He holds this, eyes floating over everyone, and then moves a beat later. Not with urgency, not with showmanship. Just steps forward like the rest of the world is moving slower than him. He doesn't look to the sides, doesn't soak it in. He's not here for the moment, he's here for the thrill. Every movement is precise, like a blade being unsheathed. Quiet, measured. He walks down the ramp towards the ring, eyes still glancing off to the side, turning his head slightly to acknowledge fans and enemies alike. At the barricade, he reaches out and slaps a few hands not necessarily out of respect, but more of obligation. These are the people who kept him alive for so long, and what he does this for.

He rounds the corner to right, bypasses the steps, and jumps, both feet hitting the apron in one clean lift. Without grabbing the ropes, without pause, he slings himself over the top and lands near the dead center of the ring, bent knees taking the brunt of his leap. He circles the ring once, loose-limbed, cracking his neck slightly, and stops. Near the far corner, he crouches with his elbows on his knees, fingers dangling inbetween as his music fades.


…

Bullet With a Point begins to blare over the loudspeakers as CHARLIE NICKLES makes his way up Santa’s fire escape up to the roof... He flashes a shit-eating grin at the audience members as he stands on Santa’s roof, eager to inflict pain!

JC: Here he is! Charlie Nickles! The self-proclaimed Corporate Champion! The man who entered tonight X-Treme champion… before letting himself get pinned by a returning Jenny Myst!

JR: Charlie Nickles knows how to cultivate his assets! The Trillionaires tried to book this as a “non-title match… unless Charlie gets pinned”? So he TRANSFERRED the asset inside of the Corporation to its newest member!

JC: Oh c’mon, Joe! Are you really still buying this freebird X-Treme champ garbage?

JR: We’ll see whose laughing when the Corporation has a 24/7 briefcase, Jacuinde! You’re going to look so dumb when that happens!

Charlie slides into the ring, mean-mugging Watson, who is laser-focused on his opponent…

JC: Here we go! Non-title, X-Treme Rules, and you can feel the tension in the air! Dickie Watson, the reigning Universal Champion, across the ring from a man who gave away the X-Treme title to avoid losing it to him… Charlie Nickles!

JR: Fake News, Jacuinde. Charlie made it abundantly clear he was making a tactical move… a signing bonus of sorts to get Her X-Cellency, Your Highness of Violence, Jenny Myst, to join the Corporation! It’s the biggest acquisition possibly in the history of this company  and Charlie’s the mastermind who was willing to part with a belt to score a CROWN on his team.

Charlie’s muttering something to himself, giving himself little smacks in the face as Dickie hops from one foot to the other, ready for anything…

The bell rings—

Dickie Watson - vs - Charlie Nickles Singles

HIGHLIGHT REEL

CRACK!

Nickles instantly charges and boots Dickie square in the ribs, sending him skidding across the mat before he can even settle.

JC: Nickles not wasting a second!

JR: Charlie doesn’t get paid by the hour, Jacuinde! He’s SALARIED! That’s the sort of treatment you get when you’re the face of the XWF’s corporate interests!

Charlie rains down body punches, trying to mount Dickie to take this fight against the Universal champ in seconds!

But, Dickie manages to judo throw Charlie backwards over his head!

JC: That’s what made Dickie a universal champion, Joe! His ability to find counters that no one else can! His ability to stop an offensive barrage dead in its tracks!

Charlie somersaults forward, narrowly managing to keep his footing! He charges Dickie again…

But Dickie snaps his legs around Charlie’s head—

HURRICANRANA!

Nickles tumbles through the ropes to the floor!

JC: Wow! Dickie Watson is faster than sound! I think I saw the rotation on that hurricanrana before I even heard the splat of Nickles hitting the outside!

Charlie is still trying to shove himself off his feet, determined to not let up…

But Dickie is looking like a man possessed, charging straight toward the ropes!

JC: Dickie must not be getting paid by the hour either, Joe! He’s looking to beat Charlie into PASTE!

Dickie explodes forward, diving through the ropes at Nickles!

SUICIDE DIVE!

…

NO! Nickles catches him mid-flight!

JC: Ohhh, no no no—!

JR: The STRENGTH of Charlie Nickles! You know he’s built that core strength from carrying this company on his back!

Charlie, like he’s handling a ragdoll, manages to HOIST Dickie up and over his shoulders… and then LAUNCHES Dickie spine-first into the barricade!

JC: That’s one-hundred-and-seventy-six pounds flying full speed toward METAL!

Dickie lands with a thud on the outside, cradling his skull as Charlie stalks behind him…

---

JC: X-Treme Rules means no mercy, and Nickles is in his element!

Nickles drags Dickie up off of his feet, still on the outside,

BIG SIDEWALK SLAM… ONTO THE BARRICADE!

The barricade buckles as Dickie collapses in a heap, rolling off and into the first row of the screaming XWF fans!

JR: That sidewalk slam isn’t just a move — it’s a statement. He’s saying “this is my ring.”

JC: …They’re not in the ring, Joe, they’re by the barricade.

JR: …Hang on, let me put on my glasses.

Nickles rolls Dickie back inside and goes for a cover.

ONE—
TWO—

Kickout!

JC: Incredible wherewithal by Universal champion Dickie Watson! He manages to fight off a hellacious move and still keep fighting!

JR: But Charlie’s looking to finish this one! RIGHT NOW!

Indeed, Charlie snarls a vicious frenzied snarl… Charlie hauls Dickie up—

STEUBENVILLE SCREWDRIVER!

…

No!

Dickie’s legs kick wildly and he manages to destabilize Charlie’s balance and slip out the back!

JR: Impressive! Dickie’s got a body like a rat, he could squeeze himself through a pinhole if victory was on the other side!

Charlie spins around as Divkie launches a…

CHOP!
CHOP!
SPINNING BACKFIST!

That strike briefly dazed Charlie… he tries to tank through I-

ROUNDHOUSE KICK!

Dickie fires off rapid strikes, rocking Nickles backward. Dickie springs—

SPRINGBOARD TORNADO DDT!

Nickles plants face-first! Dickie collapses to one knee, buying himself some much needed time to recover…

JC: That’s the champion’s answer! That’s what made Dickie Watson the sole survivor of War Games! His ability to survive!

JR: but he can’t just wait out Charlie Nickles like he did the 24-man field at War Games, Jacuinde! He’s gotta BEAT this maniac!

---

JC: The crowd is on its feet here! Dickie Watson is starting to take over this match!

Dickie runs—

BASEMENT DROPKICK to the knee! Nickles drops to one leg.

Dickie rebounds—

MILLENNIAL FALLOUT! Bridging German suplex!

JC: That could do it! Huge win for the Universal champ going into Snow Pain, Snow Gain!

ONE—
TWO—

Nickles powers out, shoving Dickie off him!

JR: That’s pure brute force. No finesse, just refusal.

Dickie, wasting no time, shoves himself up to his feet… but Nickles rises up at the same speed!

JC: Hiw the hell does Charlie still have that much fuel in the tank?

JR: No one’s taken more lumps than the Nickleman! He’s taken every kind of attack an opponent can throw and it’s all made him stronger!  More resilient!

Dickie’s eyes are wide as Nickles swings wild—

Dickie ducks, cartwheels—

PELE KICK!

Nickles stumbles into the corner, swinging wildly at air. Dickie sprints—

RUNNING CROSSBODY!

Nickles collapses seated. Dickie backs up, charges—

RISE TO GLORY! CURBSTOMP!

The crowd erupts as Dickie drags Charlie’s much larger frame out of the corner!

JC: That’s gotta do it! That’s gotta be it!

Dickie hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

Thr-KICKOUT!

The crowd explodes with shock as Dickie sits up, shaking his head…

JC: What the hell is Charlie Nickles made out of!?!

---

Dickie climbs the ropes, breathing heavy.

JC: Dickie Watson taking the kind of risks that made him champion!

JR: He’s getting desperate, Jacuinde! He knows he’s gotta pull out something BIG if he wants to pocket a win on the Nickleman!

Watson launches a…

SHOOTING STAR PRESS!

…NO!

Nickles gets the knees up!

Dickie crashes hard, cradling his ribs!

JR: That’s why they call it a high-risk maneuver! One inch off target? Ahd you pay for it DEARLY.

Nickles wastes no time. As Dickie slowly rises back up to his feet, Charlie wraps him in a front-face lock!

DEVIL HOOK DROP! Double-arm DDT onto the chair!

JR: This is it! We’ll have a new Universal champion! Charlie Nickles!

JC: This match is non-title, Rogan!

JR: I’m warming up my vocal cords for the pay-per-view, Jacuinde.

Nickles covers, hooking the leg on Watson!

ONE—
TWO—

Dickie kicks out!

JC; YES! Dickie Watson survives! And now the question flips! What exactly does Charlie Nickles have to do to keep Dickie Watson down!

JR: Well, Charlie Nickles is a different breed, Jacuinde! Unlike Dickie, Charlie loves a challenge!

Nickles slams his fists against the mat in frustration! Again and again!

[white]JC: …no, yeah, Charlie looks like he’s having a great time.

---

JC: You can see the exhaustion… the irritation in both of these men’s faces… they’re ready for the other one to break!

JR: But both refuse to be the one to break first, Jacuinde!

Charlie drags Dickie up by the hair, muttering to himself. He headbutts Dickie, then another.

Dickie fires back—

OPEN-HANDED CHOP!

…For a moment, Charlie doubled over…

But, suddenly Nickles laughs and answers with a

BIG BOOT! that turns Dickie inside out!

JR: Here we go! Charlie Nickles is in the driver’s seat!

Nickles rolls to the floor, reaches under the ring, and pulls out—

A TABLE.

JC: Oh come on!

Nickles slides it in, sets it up near the corner. He tries to lift Dickie—

Dickie counters mid-lift!

DOUBLE KNEE GUTBUSTER!

JC: There’s still life in Dickie yet!

Nickles staggers back into the table, leaning against it. Dickie charges—

SPRINGBOARD FRONT DROPKICK!

Nickles slips backward!

And crashes through the table!

The crowd leaps to its feet!

JC: Dickie did it! Charlie is laying in a pile of rubble and shards of wood!

JR: It’s not over til the official counts three, Jacuinde!

Are over arm, Divkie crawls across the ring, shoving bits of table out of his way…

He crawls atop his opponent…

And exhaustedly drapes an arm over Nickles…

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOO!

Charlie Nickles shoves a shoulder off the mat!

---

Both men are down. The referee checks on them but backs off — X-Treme Rules.

Dickie rises first, clearly hurting. He pulls Nickles up, hooks the arms—

CALAMITY INSURANCE—

Nickles powers out, shoves Dickie into the ropes—

BIG LEG DROP!

Cover!

ONE—
TWO—

Dickie survives!

JR: That leg drop is pure hate. No nostalgia — just impact.

Nickles sits up, breathing heavy, eyes glassy.

Charlie slowly stands… then reaches down to his waist.

The crowd realizes it at the same time.

JC: No… no, no, no…

Nickles unbuckles his belt.

JR: This is who he is, man.

Dickie pulls himself up, barely standing.

Charlie swings the belt down on Dickie’s skull!

…

But Dickie sidesteps!
Charlie’s monster swing eats nothing but air as Dickie hits the ropes!

Charlie spins around, as Dickie catches him across the chest!

DICKIE’S REVENGE!

…NO! Charlie manages to boss Dickie off, forcing him onto his back!

Dickie scrambles to a vertical b-

CRACK!

The belt lashes across Dickie’s ribs.

CRACK!

Across the back.

Dickie drops to a knee, gasping. Nickles wraps the belt around his fist—

BELT-TO-ASS! Straight to the face!

Dickie collapses.

JC: Charlie Nickles has crossed the line here!

JR: X-Treme Rules, Jacuinde! Anything goes!

Nickles drags Dickie to the center of the ring and hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Winner: Charlie Nickles!

The bell has barely finished echoing when Charlie Nickles rolls off Dickie Watson’s body, chest heaving, eyes wild. The crowd is already in a frenzy—half stunned, half furious—as the referee checks on the Universal Champion.

JC: “Charlie Nickles just beat the Universal Champion in a non-title bout!”

JR: “That’s not just a statement, that’s a warning shot!”

Charlie pushes himself to his feet and stares down at Dickie, sweat and blood mixing on his beard. For a moment, it almost looks like he’s satisfied.

Almost.

Then he looks up the ramp.

And smiles.

The arena lights flicker as movement erupts on the stage.

MR. OZ is the first to hit the aisle, sprinting full-tilt with rage. DR. HOLLY CAMBRIC isn’t far behind, storming down with cold, surgical focus. And bringing up the rear, none other than…..

JENNY MYST!

The crowd erupts with boos as they flood the ring.

Dickie barely has time to push up onto one knee before Oz crashes into him with a running forearm that folds him in half. Holly drops down immediately, hammering in with sharp, methodical strikes to the ribs and neck—targeting joints, breathing, balance.

JC: “Oh my God! This isn’t right, the match is already over! Someone has to get out here and stop this beatdown!”

JR: “This isn’t just a corporate beatdown, this is an execution!”

Dickie tries to roll away, but Oz drags him back by the ankle, yanking him into the center of the ring. Cambric snaps a vicious kick into his spine, forcing the Universal Champion flat on his stomach.

Then Jenny steps forward.

She kneels beside Dickie, grips a handful of his hair, and pulls his head back just enough to look him in the eye.

And then she drives a knee straight into his face!

The impact echoes through the arena. Dickie’s head snaps back against the canvas.

Charlie watches from the corner now, arms folded over the top rope, breathing finally steady.

He isn’t in a rage anymore.

This is his satisfaction.

He watches the brutal attack unfold with a sick smile stuck to his face.

Jenny rises, takes two deliberate steps, and plants a boot on Dickie’s chest.

The referee hesitates.

Charlie slowly steps forward, pointing at the referee and screaming for him to start counting.

“Count it!”

The referee looks between the members of The Corporation, then down at the Universal Champion who’s broken body is barely moving.

He drops.

ONE!

The crowd explodes in disbelief.

TWO!

Dickie twitches, but Oz’s boot presses subtly down on his leg.

THREE!

The bell rings as the referee starts raising the hands of all The Corporation members.

JR: “They just pinned the Universal Champion again!”

JC:  “You’ve gotta be kidding me…!”

Jenny stands, breathing hard, eyes burning with something feral. Oz throws his arms wide. Cambric straightens her jacket as if she’s just completed a successful procedure.

Charlie steps into the center of the ring, somehow a microphone appearing in his hand.

He looks down at Dickie. Not with hatred this time.

But with ownership.

“There it is.”

He crouches beside the fallen champion.

“That’s the last one.”

Charlie rises, turning slowly to face the hard camera, pointing down at Dickie’s body.

“You wanted to talk about rules, about loopholes, about what counts and what doesn’t?”

Dickie’s eyes flutter.

“You just got pinned. Again. This time by Jenny Myst.”

Charlie laughs in Dickie’s face, bloody spittle flying out from his mouth and landing on Dickie’s cheek.

“That makes three successful defenses for The Corporation this Warfare!”

JR: “Oh my God, he might be right! Jenny pinned Charlie, and then Charlie pinned Dickie…and now we just saw Jenny Myst pin Dickie! That is three defenses in one night!”

JC: “Do you hear yourself now, Joe?! You’re talking crazy talk! None of this is legit, none of this will hold up to any scrutiny at all! This is a total sham!”

JR: “But Jenny pinned Charlie, and then Charlie pinned Dickie, and then Jenny pinned Dickie!”

JC: “If you ask me, that just means JENNY MYST IS THE X-TREME CHAMPION….but none of this freebird nonsense gives her ANY defenses on her record!”

The crowd buzzes, confused and furious.

“Which means my merry band of bastards just gave you your final Warfare defense...and put me even closer to that coveted briefcase!”

He gestures to Oz. To Cambric. To Jenny.

“I just played the game better than anyone ever imagined. You hear that, XWF? My people handled your champion. Your golden boy just got pinned by the woman you never thought belonged in your main event.”

Jenny smirks behind him, standing over Dickie’s fallen body like it’s a trophy.

“Snow Pain Snow Gain.”

The crowd roars.

“Me.


And-


You.


You can leave Scoops at home, or you can bring him out and let him get an ass whoopin’ too. It doesn’t make much difference to me.”

He crouches one last time beside Dickie, lowering his voice.

“You already lost to me tonight. You just got pinned again by my people. So when we get those last two “defenses” at Snow Pain Snow Gain….you already know I’m coming for you.”

Charlie stands, eyes blazing.

“And I’m not coming alone. I’m coming with my merry band of bastards-

And we’re taking back what never stopped being mine.”

Charlie raises his fist. Oz throws his head back in a roar. Cambric folds her arms, cold and clinical. Jenny plants her boot on Dickie’s chest again, staring down at him like a conqueror.

The camera pulls back on The Corporation standing tall over the fallen Universal Champion.

JR: “At Snow Pain Snow Gain, the hunt is officially on! Charlie Nickles and his Corporate goons clearly have their eyes on the Universal Championship!

JC: “Too bad, so sad for them! Scoops McGee has ALREADY been offered a #1 contendership!”

JR: “I’m not sure Charlie cares about any of that, but I guess we’ll have to find out this Thursday Night on Anarchy!”

JC: “Tune in, folks, and hopefully we’ll see Charlie and his thugs get their just desserts!”

THANKS TO OUR MATCH WRITERS Atticus Gold ‘Bashmaster’ Barry Masterson John Black Peter Principle OUR SEGMENT WRITERS Charlie Nickles / Doctor Holly Cambric / Jenny Myst Isaiah King / SEB The Director AND EVERYONE WHO RP’D!