XWF Anarchy
![[Image: vuE1ZV0.png]](https://i.imgur.com/vuE1ZV0.png)
04 - 16 - 2026
LIVE FROM THE PREMIERE CENTER!
SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA
MARISOL VILARO
- vs -
LATOYA HIXX
- vs -
LIAM ROBERTS
- vs -
RIC JAMES
FATAL 4-WAY! |
SCHADENFREUDE CLOWN
- vs -
SAFARI STU
HUNT DOWN THE CLOWN MATCH!
Similar to a game of hide and seek, both competitors will start in the ring: then, Safari Stu will be blindfolded. Schadenfreude Clown will be given 3 minutes to hide somewhere in the arena, and then Safari Stu will have to track S.F. Clown down! The only way Safari Stu can win is by finding the clown and getting him back into the ring!
15 minute time limit!
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DEENA HIXX
- vs -
BOBBY BOURBON
X-TREME RULES!
|
MR. OZ
- vs -
APATHY
X-TREME RULES!
|
JENNY MYST
- vs -
SUMMER PAGE
TABLES MATCH!
|
MICHEAL GRAVES & KRISTOFFER 'VAMP' ARROYO
- vs -
BETSY GRANGER © & XXXVI
NUMBER 1 CONTENDER'S MATCH!
The winners of this standard-rules tag match will become the #1 contenders to the Anarchy Tag-Team Championships!
1 RP per team @ 2,000 words
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Todd: Welcome one, welcome all, to tonight’s edition of XWF Anarchy- live from SIOUX FALLS!
Bama: That’s right, Todd! Our show is just about to get underway and boy oh boy, do we have a big one planned! Micheal Graves, Kristoffer Arroyo, Jenny Myst, 36, and Betsy Granger- some of the biggest stars in the XWF- will all be getting in on the action tonight!
Todd: And not to mention, Marisol Vilario’s return to Anarchy in tonight’s opener!
Bama: Speaking of returns: I hear we’ve got BOBBY BOURBON in the building tonight! For the first time in over 6 months!
Todd: It goes without saying that all of Anarchy’s biggest stars are here! From Mr. Oz to Latoya Hixx! From the past, present, and the future!
Bama: Even Centurion is expected to make an appearance on tonight’s show! I heard he has some sort of update for us: maybe he’s finally gotten his AARP card!
Todd: There’s only one way to find out, Bama- and that’s by sticking close to your TV! Because Anarchy starts now!
The synthesized beat of Shake it Off By Taylor Swift begins to play over the public address system, as the opening lyrics soon begin, as the fans boo and flashes going off, people are waiting for the arrival of the Fitness Queen herself.
I stay out too late
Got nothing in my brain
That's what people say, mm-mm
That's what people say, mm-mm
As a spotlight is on the entrance ramp and the lights dim, first stepping out is none other than the legendary Snarktopus Nessa Wall, who smiles brightly before trash talking the fans as she smiles, before ordering a couple of stage hands to come out they each have a mirror in hand they face the entrance ramp, as soon out from the back steps La Marvillosa herself Marisol Vilaro.
I go on too many dates
But I can't make 'em stay
At least that's what people say, mm-mm
That's what people say, mm-mm
Marisol stops to admire herself in each mirror posing and showing off, what her hard work has given her and mouthing about how she’s the inspiration these out-of-shape people need. After a few moments of posing she brushes right past, giving her manager/mentor a hug before they head off with Nessa leading the way taking the time to give the fans at ringside a hard time for even trying to touch them.
But I keep cruisin'
Can't stop, won't stop movin'
It's like I got this music in my mind
Sayin' it's gonna be alright
Marisol herself takes the time to pose some more showing off her muscle, and trying to sell them on the VilaroFit mission, and how they need it to improve themselves, As the devious duo soon make their way toward the ring side area Nessa soon goes up the ring steps and takes the time to bark orders at the referee, showing him exactly how lower the ropes for herself, and her client, after being lectured by the Ambitchous one, the referee complies doing it exactly as Nessa demanded enters the ring and motions for Marisol to go up the steps, as she climbs up the steps she takes each moment to keep shilling her products, which doesn’t endear her to the fans, as she soon enters the ring under the rope and soon she rudely brushes past the referee as Nessa presents her to the booing fans as she raises her arms high in the air soaking in the boos, and catcalls.
'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play
And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate
Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
I shake it off, I shake it off (hoo-hoo-hoo)
Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break
And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake
Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
I shake it off, I shake it off (hoo-hoo-hoo)
Marisol then does a series of poses once again before turning around and gracing the other side of the area raising her arms high in the air and then doing a similar series of poses showing off her physique and how in shape she is. While Nessa claps her client before they head into their corner, and Nessa is getting Marisol psyched and going over the game plan as they wait for the opponent to enter.
Todd: Marisol Vilaro is BACK and better than ever! She’s looking for a huge win in tonight’s opening bout.
Bama: She’s not just looking for the win, Todd! She wants to VILAROMAXX! She’s going to turn all you ugly ducklies into beautiful baddies, one adjustment at a time!
Todd: At March Madness, she set her sights on T-Six: but tonight, it looks like her sights are set on all 3 of her opponents!
Bama: Vilaro has her eyes set on everyone, Todd: because compared to her, you’re all ugly- and only she can help you VILAROMAXX!
When The Storm is Coming hits Latoya Hixx. they heard a voice laugh in the background and saw blue lights from the entrance and some smoke and rainfall coming down she walked onto the middle stage flexed her muscles walked straight down towards the aisle slapped a few XWF fans got inside the ring and dim the lights in the ring and she flexes her arms once more and spread her arms and climbs on the top rope and yell at her fans and tells them to let's go and climbs down off the ropes and waits for her opponents to arrive.
Todd: Latoya Hixx is in the building!
Bama: That’s The Storm to you, Todd! She’s bringing the lightning and the thunder to this opening match, and you’d better give her the respect she deserves!
Todd: I always give respect when it’s due, Bama, and Latoya deserves all of it! She’s one of the most consistent, most available wrestlers on the entire roster. Latoya has turned herself into a staple of XWF Anarchy, and that’s why she’s been given a spot in this marquee opening match!
Liam Roberts makes his way down to the ring as his music blares through the arena.
Todd: Liam Roberts is a fan-favorite here on Anarchy, even if his record in the ring has been less than stellar!
Bama: Less than stellar? Liam Roberts has over 20 matches in the XWF, stretching over the course of years! Say what you will about Liam, but he has won a match before: so that means, there’s always a chance he could win this one, too!
Todd: That’s a good point, Bama! Liam may be an underdog tonight, but every dog gets their day on Anarchy!
The lights dim slightly as the opening beat drops. Ric James steps out onto the stage slow and composed, taking a second to look around like he already owns the moment. No rushing—everything is controlled.
As the beat kicks in, he starts walking down the ramp with a confident bounce, talking to the crowd, pointing, reacting—feeding off whatever energy they give him.
Halfway down, he pauses, smirks, and nods like he knows he’s the main attraction.
At ringside, he takes the steps, wipes his feet clean, then steps into the ring smoothly. Once inside, he bounces lightly, then hits a confident pose in the center—soaking it all in before getting ready.
Todd: There has been a ton of hype around this debut. While this might be Ric’s first match in the XWF, this isn’t his first rodeo: some people are even saying he’s the odds-on favorite to win his debut match!
Bama: IT’S RIC JAMES, BIYATCH! And you know what that means!
Todd: No, Bama- I don’t know what that means!
Bama: It means you better pucker up and sit your ass down, because we’re about to see a barn-burner!
MARISOL VILARO
- vs -
LATOYA HIXX
- vs -
LIAM ROBERTS
- vs -
RIC JAMES
FATAL 4-WAY! |
The bell rings!
All four wrestlers burst out of their corners with matching intensity. Ric and Liam meet in the middle of the ring and immediately begin trading blows! Right next to them, Marisol and Latoya lock-up in the clinch! Ric’s heavy punches manage to get the better of Liam, forcing him to back into the corner from the force of the blows. Meanwhile, Latoya begins to win the clinch exchange with Marisol!
In the corner, Ric James starts whooping the hell out of Liam Roberts. After a few more punches, Liam Roberts just covers up and tries to protect his face. That’s when Ric James switches to chops! A big chest chop rattles through the arena, causing Liam’s torso to turn red. After a second chop, Liam is forced to drop his hands. That’s when Ric James really takes advantage of him! Ric grabs a screaming Liam out of the corner by his neck, dragging him down to the mat with a ring-shaking DDT!
Todd: Ric James is off to a hot start! All 6 foot 4 inches of him!
Bama: Ric is the biggest mamma jamma in that ring, Todd, and he knows how to throw his weight around!
Across the ring, Latoya Hixx is holding Marisol Vilaro in a clinch against the ropes. While Latoya clearly demonstrates her strength, the referee comes in to force the pair apart due to the rope break! Latoya begrudgingly backs up and gives space to the smaller Marisol: a move she soon comes to regret!
As Marisol Vilaro rakes her eyes right in front of the referee!
Latoya shrieks in pain as the referee admonishes Marisol!
Todd: Vilaro wastes no time before using her dirty tricks! If she’s not careful, the referee could DQ her!
Bama: Oh Todd, get that stick out of your butt! The referee can’t DQ Vilaro: she’s GORGEOUS, and VILAROMAXXED: and that referee looks like an incel!
Todd: What does that have to do with anything, Bama?!
Bama: It has to do with everything, Todd! Marisol is looksmaxxing and aura mogging on the referee, and there’s not a damn thing he or anyone else can do about it!
As Ric James rises from his DDT, he sees Latoya Hixx covering her eyes whilst scrambling away from Marisol.
Before Latoya even realizes what’s happening, Ric James snatches her up into a snap suplex- slamming her down onto the mat with tremendous force!
Ric James scrambles back to his feet with both Latoya Hixx and Liam Roberts laying on the mat before him.
Bama: The strength and the power of Ric James is just unmatched tonight! He’s having his way with his opponents!
Todd: Ric James has looked great in his debut so far, but he shouldn’t get too cocky! Anything can happen in a fatal fourway, and you have to keep your head on a swivel!
But Ric James can’t hear the commentary team.
So he just looks down at Liam and Latoya, before he looks directly into the hardcam.
And then-
He starts flexing for the crowd!
The ladies go wild as Ric James shows off his muscley figure!
Ric James is so busy aura farming, he never even realizes that Marisol Vilaro is eyeing him up!
Todd: It looks like Ric is getting too big for his britches here! He’s taking his eye off the ball!
Bama: Ric is just giving the fans what they want!
Todd: But it looks like Marisol is about to take what SHE wants, too!
Bama: Everybody in this arena wants a piece of Ric James!
As Ric flexes and poses for the crowd, Marisol Vilaro lines him up-
For a swinging neckbreaker!
Ric and Marisol crash down to the mat!
But Marisol doesn’t stay there for long!
Vilaro pops right back up, then she sprints towards the ropes-
Bounces off them-
And delivers a running elbow drop right onto Ric James’ face!
Then, she starts VilaroMaxxing with a few push-ups!
The crowd eats it up!
Bama: It looks like Ric James isn’t the only one here who knows how to put on a show!
Todd: But if James and Vilaro keep playing to the crowd, they’re going to give their opponents plenty of time to recover!
Bama: Everything has it’s pros and it’s cons, Todd! Everything!
After doing an impressive amount of push-ups, Marisol Vilaro finally stands back up. She wipes her hands on her wrestling gear before turning around with a smirk on her face-
A smirk that immediately disappears when she sees the imposing figure of Latoya Hixx standing right behind her!
Marisol tries to fire off a quick punch, but Latoya sees it coming and blocks it!
Then, Latoya kicks Marisol right in the gut, causing the smaller woman to keel over in pain!
To finish off her combo, Latoya grabs Marisol by her perfectly done hair-
Before she throws her over the top rope, and clear out of the ring!
Marisol goes flying!
Then, she CRASHES on the outside!
Todd: There goes Vilaro!
Bama: I think Latoya just chucked her into next week!
As Marisol lays limp by the outside barrier, the in-ring action cranks it up to another level.
Liam Roberts and Ric James rise to their feet at the same time, both locking eyes with Latoya Hixx.
Ric James charges in first- getting a swift boot to his face that sends him reeling backwards.
Then Liam comes in, shooting for a spear-
But Latoya moves out of the way, and redirects Liam right into the turnbuckle post! Liam’s shoulder slams against the metal, but he has no time to wallow in the pain: because Latoya immediately pulls him out of the corner and into the center of the ring, where she looks to be setting up a powerbomb!
But before she can lift Liam’s little frame, Ric James is back in the fray!
He hits the ropes opposite Latoya before sprinting towards her with a leaping clothesline that nearly takes her head off!
Liam, finding himself free from Latoya’s grasp, tries to get in some offense of his own! He tries to kick Ric James when he stands back up- but Ric’s reflexes are too fast!
Ric catches Liam’s foot, holding it there for a second whilst he looks at Liam and wags his finger back and forth, as if admonishing Liam for even attempting to hurt him!
A look of worry flashes across Liam’s face as Ric James uses his captured foot to spin him around-
Before hitting him with a FLASH KICK straight to the chin!
The lights go dark in Liam’s eyes, but the motion of his body carries him into the ropes-
And then back towards Ric James-
Who catches Liam with a SCENE STEALER!
The cutter brings Liam straight down to the mat!
Ric James thinks about going for the pin-
But then he sees Latoya rising to her feet over in the corner.
That’s when he abandons Liam’s corpse-
And charges at Latoya with a big corner splash!
Bama: This match is all Ric James! He’s taking belt to ass, all across the ring!
Todd: But look, Bama! Marisol Vilaro is back up- and she’s sliding back into the ring!
Ric James is too busy causing destruction, he doesn’t even see Marisol Vilaro creeping back into the scene.
As Latoya Hixx stumbles forward out of the corner, Ric James backs away-
Setting up another…
SCENE STEALER!
The cutter drives Latoya Hixx straight down to the mat!
The crowd goes wild after seeing back to back Scene Stealers!
But Marisol Vilaro isn’t going wild: she just has a wild look in her eye…
As she sneakily crawls atop Liam Roberts for a pin, just moments before Ric James covers up Latoya Hixx!
The referee drops down to make the count!
1!
2!!
3!!!
Ric James jumps into the air at 3, exhilarated and delighted with his performance. He walks into the center of the ring to have his hand raised by the referee….
Only to see that the referee is already raising MARISOL VILARO’S hand!
Ric James can’t believe it!
While Marisol Vilaro’s grin stretches from ear to ear!
Todd: Oh my God! Marisol Vilaro just stole this match right out from under Ric’s nose! Ric James can’t believe it, and frankly, neither can I!
Bama: Ric James just got robbed! He dominated this match, he had this match won: but Marisol Vilaro snuck in at the final moment, and snatched victory from the jaws of defeat!
Ric James starts arguing with the referee as Marisol’s music plays out through the arena. Marisol steps out of the ring and starts walking up towards the ramp, before turning back to taunt Ric James one last time. Marisol makes a few mocking gestures towards Ric for good measure, while the referee tries to calm him down.
Todd: This was a huge win for Marisol Vilaro, but I think the biggest takeaway from this match was Ric James’ dominance! He looked unstoppable in there!
Bama: Marisol Vilaro beat him with her veteran tricks, but we all saw what really happened in that ring! This match was all Ric James, all day!
Todd: I can’t wait to see what’s next for Ric, and likewise, I’m dreading the fact that Marisol might have even more tricks up her sleeve! She’s sheisty!
Bama: But we can’t sit around bemoaning results all day, Todd: because we still have plenty of action left here on XWF Anarchy!
TODD: Folks, this next match… well, I suppose…
BAMA: It’s gonna be a dumpster fire! Painted in polka dot, burning bright on the side of the road! Grab your circus peanuts folks cuz this one’s gonna be from Barnum & Bailey’s nightmares!
Schadenfreude Clown enters to blaring lights and loud electronic, pulsating music.
He steps on to the ramp with a unicycle in hand and waves to the crowd! As he motions to jump on the unicycle, the music cuts and he wags a finger signalling HE WILL NOT ride the unicycle! The crowds disappointment fuels Schadenfreude Clown as he smiles smugly and waves the smell of despair to his nostrils.
He walks down the ramp, shoes honking all the way.
TODD: There’s Schadenfreude Clown! He’s… possibly some kind of cosmic horror?
BAMA: He knows no end but to inflict suffering and to derive pleasure from that suffering, Toddrick! He’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen the Black Rainbow, the Left Hand and your mom naked.
TODD: Wh-...HEY!
BAMA: Just a joke, Toddy baby.
TODD: Juvenile humor, Bama.
BAMA: Your mom won’t let me get past second base until I put a ring on it..
Schadenfreude Clown draws a sword from nowhere!
He goes to stick it down his throat!
He stops, wagging a finger with a smug shake of the head.
The crowd is simply seething at this point, MUCH to his delight! The heel!
Schadenfreude Clown enters the ring, NORMALLY!!!!
IT'S LUCKY A RIOT HASN'T START BY NOW!
AND HE'S JUST SO DAMN SMUG ABOUT IT! LOOK AT THAT SATISFACTION ON THAT SADIST'S FACE!
Out of pure disgust, production skip the rest of his entrance!
…
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.
TODD: And there he is! Safari Stu! The XWF’s Ultimate Hunter!
Waving to the crowd, Stu gives a monkey to a young fan as a sign of appreciation. He then climbs into the ring and 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.
…
The official approaches Safari Stu and tells Stu to turn around… he does, and Stu
Schadenfreude Clown stands in the corner, laughing in a fashion that could only be described as “hauntingly German.”
[blue]TODD: Ladies and gentlemen, what you’re about to witness is NOT a traditional wrestling match! This is a HUNT DOWN THE CLOWN match!
BAMA: Safari Stu is going to blindfolded! Schadenfreude Clown will have three minutes to hide… And then Stu will have fifteen minutes to hunt down the clown!
SCHADENFREUDE CLOWN
- vs -
SAFARI STU
HUNT DOWN THE CLOWN MATCH!
Similar to a game of hide and seek, both competitors will start in the ring: then, Safari Stu will be blindfolded. Schadenfreude Clown will be given 3 minutes to hide somewhere in the arena, and then Safari Stu will have to track S.F. Clown down! The only way Safari Stu can win is by finding the clown and getting him back into the ring!
15 minute time limit!
|
Stu has his blindfold tied securely. The official turns around to give SF Clown permission to hi-
…
When the official turns around, Schadenfreude Clown is already gone…
”Ohohohohohohohohooooooooo..” His voice echoes throughout the arena…
TODD: It looks like SF Clown isn’t going to need the full three minutes to find a hiding spot! He’s already mysteriously disappeared!
BAMA: He could be anywhere! HE COULD BE ANYWHERE!
Safari Stu tears his blindfold off as SF Clown’s hideous laughter echoes through the arena…
Stu takes a big whiff of the air…
”He’s close…” Another sniff.
”I can smell the misfortune…”
Stu skulks along the apron, searching, peeking high and low for the Clown they call Schadenfreude… Clown.
”Ohohohohohohohohooooooooo..”
Stu spins toward the source of the laughter… UNDER THE RING!
TODD: It seems like Schadenfreude Clown’s trademark laughter might be his downfall! Stu’s followed it right to his prey!
BAMA: But what kinda fool would traipse into the lair of Schadenfreude Clown!
Stu steps down the steps and walks to the apron… He reaches into the pocket of his cargo shorts and retrieves…
A pygmy marmoset!
BAMA: What the hell is going on here, Toddrick?!?
TODD: Safari Stu doesn’t just hunt the most dangerous game, Bama! He’s also regularly hanging out with wildlife! Like in his entrance! It seems he’s going to use his pygmy marmoset friend to try and draw out Schadenfreude Clown!
After feeding the marmoset a bit of eucalyptus sap, Stu coaxes the marmoset to the apron… The Marmoset lifts the flap and crawls under the ri-
EXPLOSION
SAFARI STU IS BLOWN BACK TOWARD THE RAILING! The apron full-on lifts off the ringside, in tatters…
The marmoset…
Is gone.
TODD: Oh my God…
”Ohohohohohohohohooooooooo..” Schadenfreude Clown’s laughter echoes from above…
”If chour little friend washt nocht endangered before… You shertainly put him in dan-chure. Ohohohohohohooooooooo, how delicious…”
TODD: Now it sounds like Schadenfreude Clown is above Stu! Can… Can SF Clown throw his voice?
Safari Stu eyes upwards… his teeth grit… He loved that marmoset like a brother.
Now, this is personal…
Stu sniffs the air again as he creeps along the ramp, up toward the X-Tron…
TODD: Safari Stu is on the scent!
BAMA: But is he following Schadenfreude Clown… or is he just stepping exactly where Schadenfreude Clown wants him to be…
Stu walks under the X-Tron, beneath the screen….
”Ohohohohohohohohooooooooo..”
Stu’s gaze snaps up above the X-Tron!
Where Schadenfreude Clown is sitting on top of the scaffold above the X-Tron! Waving his fingers invitingly!
”Oh pleaaaaaashe… Won’t shomeone come catscht me und bring me to che ring? Ohohohohoho…” Schadenfreude’s legs kick delighted as they dangle off the X-Tron!
TODD: SF Clown is a sitting duck up there!
BAMA: That’s exactly why SF Clown wants Stu to think!
Stu cups his hand around his mouth and cries in a sound that is IDENTICAL in EVERY way to an eagle!
Cue a fucking eagle swooping in and landing on Stu’s arm!
TODD: …DId Safari Stu just summon an eagle from thin air?
BAMA: No, that would be stupid. It’s obviously an arena eagle.
TODD: …An arena eagle?
BAMA: An eagle whose natural habitat in a sports arena. Try to keep up, Toddrick, I can’t do both our jobs and only collect one paycheck.
Stu then points toward SF Clown!
SHRRRRRIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEK The eagle calls as it swoops high in the arena above SF Clown…
BEFORE SWOOPING DOWN TO CLAW AT SF CLOWN!
SF Clown is plucked off the X-Tron by his arms! The eagle swoops him into the air!
TODD: …Wow, I can’t believe Stu’s plan is working!
Stu calls to the bird, directing his avian friend to drag its prey back to the ring so Stu can claim victory!
The eagle caws!
…But in his massive wings, SF Clown reaches into his clown pants to retrieve…
A GIANT FEATHER! Almost as tall as SF Clown himself!
TODD: Man, what eagle do you think that feather came from, Bama?
SF Clown reaches in the eagle’s claws… AND TICKLES THE EAGLE!
The eagle caws, shaking its feathers to avoid being tickled!
Before it drops SF Clown in the rafters above the arena, (where the eagle makes its nest) and flying away!
Stu looks up! SF Clown is now at the top of the arena…
”Ohohohohohohooooooooooo…” SF Clown claps his hands with delight.
”Deshpite chour bescht effortsht… I am even furcher ah-way now chan when chis cat und mouse game began… OHohohohohohoho…”
…Stu smiles… Now, this is a challenge. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out…
A CLOWN HUNTING KNIFE!
TODD: A clown hunting knife!
BAMA: A knife for hunters specifically those hunting clowns! Have you ever even WATCHED anything on Animal Planet, Toddy baby?
Stu slides the knife in between his teeth… And hand-over-hand, begins free climbing the X-Tron!
BAMA: Stu is climbing the X-Tron himself! Closing the gap between himself and Schadenfreude Clown!
TODD: …Does he have to do that? Isn’t there, like… a ladder up the X-Tron or something?
BAMA: This is so much badass, Todd!
TODD: Admittedly, Stu free-climbing the X-Tron wasn’t the quickest way to get to the top of the arena where Schadenfreude Clown has perched himself… but it was VERY BADASS!
BAMA: Hell yeah, Todd. Hell yeah.
Stu, with the clown hunting knife between his teeth, has two climbing knives plunged into the arena roof… He stabs one into the metal above… then the other, each one drawing him closer and closer to the Arena Eagle’s empty nest where Schadenfreude Clown is sitting, smiling eerily…
TODD: Stu’s closing the distance! He’s just fifteen feet away now…
Stu determinedly sticks his knives closer and closer… Ten feet… Eight feet…
Si-
WHAM! Suddenly, a giant eagle egg catches Stu in the chest! His grip nearly slips as he clings onto his knives for dear life!
”Ohohohohohohooooooooooo…” SF Clown holds two more arena eagle eggs from the nest, one in each of his nefarious mitts.
”It wouldst shteem chat che huntah hast becomt che hunted! Ohohohohoho…”
TODD: Oh man! Stu thought he was closing the distance between himself and his prey… but Schadenfreude Clown is the one looking like the predator now!
Stu tries to cling to his knives… but one of them slips! The eagle egg yolk reduces his ability to grip! He clings to the other one with both hands for dear life!
”Ohohohohohohooooooooooo…” SF Clown reels back his egg…
”Preparsht to be schrambled and sherved shunny-shide up, you shilly-billy…”
SF Clown pitches the egg!
It catches Stu in the face!
His grip slips off the last knife!
AND HE’S FALLING!
TODD: Oh my God! That’s a sixty… no, eighty foot fall! No one could survive that!
Stu is falling! He whistles!
SHRRRRRIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEK
TODD: The arena eagle!
In one swoop! The arena eagle swoops through the air and catches Stu!
TODD: Oh thank God… i thought we were about to witness a horrifying death…
BAMA: Safari Stu lives! But he’s got almost no time to catch that dastardly Schadenfreude Clown!
Stu is gently set down in the center of the ring by the eagle…
He stares up at Schadenfreude Clown… And strokes his chin thoughtfully…
Schadenfreude Clown has mostly been sitting in his nest and laughing at Stu, who has gone back to the Safari Jeep he entered the arena in and is searching for something from which he can secure victory…
Stu retrieves…
![[Image: 22059296_60c451f216.jpg]](https://scienceline.org/wp-content/uploads/2006/09/22059296_60c451f216.jpg)
A sting ray!
TODD: Oh man! Stu’s clearly going to…
…
TODD: What the Hell is gonna do with that thing, Bama?
BAMA: At this point, Stu’s just throwing shit at the wall. And I mean that literally, my best guess is he’s gonna throw that manta ray at the nearest wall!
”Ohohohohohohooooooooooo…” SF Clown claps his hands delightedly…
”Che deshperashun… Che hopeleshnesh… It’sht so divine…”
Stu takes the sting ray in his hands and points it up toward SF Clown…
TODD: I don’t think a manta ray is a projectile weapon, Bama…
Stu continues to point the manta ray at SF Clown menacin-
SHINK! The sting ray’s barb suddenly shoots backward into Stu’s gut!
TODD: Oh my God!
BAMA: Get the medical team out here! Quick!
Stu collapses onto one knee as he drops the sting ray, who is still embedded into Stu’s chest!
The crowd is horrified!
SF Clown… is DELIGHTED!
”OhohohohohohoooooooooooOOOOOOOOO Oh mein gott…” SF Clown claps his hands delightedly…
”Schtung by your own schting ray… Isht too gut. I must obsherve dish more closely to shavor it…”
SF Clown rappels down from the nest by the ringside…
Stu is on his knees… the sting ray continues to helplessly bob in midair in front of him… As SF Clown creeps closer….
”OhohohohohohoooooooooooOOOOOOOOO yessshh… Yesssh, I musht see dish…”
SF Clown pulls away Stu’s arms from his gaping wo-...
…WAIT! The manta ray’s barb didn’t pierce Stu’s chest at all!
TODD: Gasp! Stu laid a sting ray honeypot for Schadenfreude Clown!
BAMA: In any other context, those words would be gibberish, but as is, they perfectly describe what just happened!
Before SF Clown can even react, Stu snaps to, unsheathing his clown hunting knife and…. STABBING IT into SF Clown’s parachute pants, trapping him against the ramp!
”Ohhhhh noooooooOOoOOOOO!”
Now that Schadenfreude Clown is trapped, Safari Stu quickly takes a rope and hogties SF Clown’s hands and legs behind his back!
TODD: Stu’s taking control!
BAMA: But does he have enough time to heave his quarry back into the ring!
Stu tries to heave SF Clown back into the ring by force… But the clown is deadweighting him!
”OhohohohohohoooooooooooOOOOOOOOO yessshh… sho close… Yet sho far aw-”
SHRRRRRIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEK The EAGLE SWOOPS DOWN!
Plucks the hogtied SF Clown up!
And drops him into the ring!
DING DING DING!
TODD: Oh my God! I can’t believe Safari Stu pulled it off!
BAMA: Stu could hunt any quarry! Animal, man, clown… And he proved it tonight!
During a break in the action, “Wild Thing” begins to play, causing the crowd to rise from their seats.
TODD: An unexpected appearance from CENTURION here.
CENTURION steps out from the back to a roar from the crowd, but CENTURION seems unable to enjoy it. His head is down, he still has a slight limp, and he has the old XWF Television Title over his shoulder.
BAMA: Hey, what’s he doing with that?! He lost the title!
CENTURION slowly limps down to the ring and gets to the ring, gingerly walking up the steel steps and into the ropes before asking for a mic.
CENTURION: Folks, I’m not here to take up too much of your time. There’s one person I want to speak to directly. MR. MUSK, I know you’re back there, if you could…
CENTURION gestures to the ring, and after a few moments, ELON MUSK steps out from the back, much to the displeasure of the crowd. He does not come out to his music, nor does he have his Segway, but he is flanked by various guards and aids.
BAMA: The last time MR. MUSK was in the ring with CENTURION, he was VIOLENTLY assaulted!
TODD: Elon got involved in CENTURION’S match at his anniversary show! Cent had every right to respond!
ELON walks down the ramp with a smug smile on his face as he and his entourage approach the ring. Two bodyguards go to step into the ring before him, but ELON calls them off, and he steps into the ring alone. He adjusts his suit and stands in front of CENTURION.
CENTURION: ELON, I stand before you, a broken and…humbled man. For months, I have fought this war against you. I have thrown everything I had at you and your surrogates, and then March Madness happens and…you beat me. You took my title, you left me humiliated, and you proved your power within this company and this industry. This…belongs to you.
CENTURION takes the old Television Title off his shoulder and hands it to ELON. ELON takes it and immediately, and rather disrespectfully, tosses it onto the mat behind him. ELON takes the mic out of CENTURION’S hand and speaks.
ELON: Honestly, Cent, I should be thanking you. There have been a lot of people walking around here thinking I don’t have any power, thinking I’m just some sort of money mark who doesn’t pay attention to what’s going on, but you proved to everyone just what happens when you cross ELON MUSK…
I…
Always…
Win…
ELON stares daggers into CENTURION’s eyes, but CENTURION does not respond. He just turns his head and walks back towards the ropes, right towards the group of aids and guards that arrived with ELON. They all part, allowing for CENTURION to climb out of the ring and walk a lonely path up the ramp way.
ELON: Oh Cent, one more thing…
…you’re fired!
The crowd reacts in a stunned hush, but CENTURION doesn’t even stop to turn around and face ELON. He just continues to walk up the ramp, leaving ELON laughing in the ring.
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.
BAMA: Deena Hixx is a firecracker wrapped in kerosene, Toddrick! She’s less predictable than the lottery!
TODD: The Crazy Chick is out there, for sure! But, she seems intent on winning this match… and she’s very eager to prove she belongs in line for the Television Title!
BAMA: That’s proof positive that Deena’s out of her mind! Anyone that’s eager to get in the ring with Yelena Gorgo should be on suicide watch, because they have a death wish!
Deena slides into the ring and leans on the ropes with her legs crossed and waits for her Opponent to arrive.
…
The lights in the arena go deep blue as smoke fills the air. Pink and silver laser lights cut through the smoke and it looks fucking rad.
As Bobby's music blares throughout the arena, slowly walking out onto the entrance ramp is Bobby Bourbon. He looks out at the crowd in the arena, cold and stoic, surveying his surroundings. He stops and raises his fists at 45 degree angles, and continues his deliberate plod towards the ring.
TODD: And here he is! The two-time Universal champion! The one and only, BOBBY BOURBON!
BAMA: We were talking about predictability with Deena, but no talent is less predictable than Bobby Bourbon!
TODD: Agreed there, Bama. The only thing predictable about Bobby is that he gets results in that ring! Can Deena steal a win off one of the greats? Or will Bobby prove too much!
He raises both arms outward, accepting fives, slaps, daps, knucks, and touches as he does. He looks on into the ring, feeling the energy of every fan he makes contact with. He stops, and begins stomping in place, with the utmost joy to be in front of the XWF crowd. He stops a camera.
"I'm a bad, bad man, but like my home, the XWF, I have plenty of bad, bad fans!"
Bobby climbs the steps, then climbs the nearest ring post half way and raises his fists at 45 degree angles. The lights go back to normal and the music stops. The fans in attendance all echo their sentiments for the match.
"fuck 'em up, bobby, fuck 'em up." stomp stomp. "fuck 'em up, Bobby, fuck 'em up." stomp stomp. "Fuck 'Em Up Bobby, Fuck 'Em Up!" STOMP STOMP! "FUCK 'EM UP BOBBY, FUCK 'EM UP!!!" STOMP STOMP!
Bobby acknowledges the crowd. They roar. Bobby looks back at his opponent.
TODD: Folks, this isn’t only Deena Hixx versus Bobby Bourbon! This match is X-TREME RULES!
BAMA: Get your blood tarps ready, front-row! This one could turn into a gore Gallagher show!
DING DING!
DEENA HIXX
- vs -
BOBBY BOURBON
X-TREME RULES!
|
The moment the bell rings, Deena charges Bobby like a feral animal, leaping through the air!
Hixx leaps onto Bobby and starts clawing and scratching at him, trying to bring him down to the mat!
TODD: Wow! No slow start here from Deena Hixx!
BAMA: Deena, starting off the match that could only be described as ‘Rabid Howler Monkey Determined to Spread the T-Virus onto Humankind!’
Bobby raises his arms in a casual guard as Deena’s animalistic attacks seek to overwhelm his defenses!
…But in a snap motion, Bobby pushes his hands up, launching the much lighter Deena into the air…
And…
EUROPEAN POLISH UPPERCUT! Deena gets dropped to the mat as the crowd erupts!
TODD: Wow! Bobby just turned Deena over like a cabbage roll in the oven!
BAMA: Bourbon can call himself a chef, cuz Deena just got COOKED on that one!
Bobby cranks his neck side-to-side, like this is too easy for him…
But from the mat, like a rabid rat, Deena coils… AND BITES ON BOURBON’S ANKLE!
Bourbon, in shock, goes to one knee… Deena surges up to meet him and the two start striking each other wildly on the mat!
TODD: I think Bobby was seeking to be above Deena’s frenzied offense… but I think Deena forced Bobby onto her level with that bite!
BAMA: Bobby literally just came back from injury, now he’s gotta get a shot for Rabies… and maybe Bipolar Disorder if Deena’s is contagious!
Deena manages to scamper up to her feet as Bobby slowly rises from the mat to one knee…
WHAM! Deena catches him with a kick to the chest!
A second!
A third!
TODD: Deena Hixx might have one of the single sharpest strikes in the game! Bobby isn’t blocking one of them!
BAMA: That seems like a choice on Bobby’s part though, Toddrick!
Indeed, Bobby lets his hands hang by his sides as he tanks kicks to the chest, standing up a little taller with each strike…
Deena backs up a step, looking for a…
HEAD KICK!
…But Bobby catches her boot! Drags her leg across his chest and…
EXPLODER SUPLEX! Deena gets launched INSIDE OUT, landing in a giant heap!
The crowd chants for Bobby!
"Fuck 'Em Up Bobby, Fuck 'Em Up!" STOMP STOMP! "FUCK 'EM UP BOBBY, FUCK 'EM UP!!!" STOMP STOMP!
Bobby nods knowingly at the crowd, before rolling outside the ring, much to the crowd’s delight…
TODD: Uh oh! I think Bobby’s taking this exactly where the crowd wants it…
BAMA To the EXTREEEEEEEEEME, Toddy baby!
As Deena stretches her neck, cradling her back inside the ring… Bobby is outside, reaching under the apron…
He retrieves…
A kendo stick!
The crowd pops!
…Bobby sneers, displeased, shaking his head, before hurling it like a javelin into the crowd!
TODD: That’ll be a souvenir for some lucky fan! But insufficient for Bobby’s X-Treme tastes!
Bobby reaches back under the ropes… He retrieves…
A weighted chess set.
TODD: OH DEAR GOD, NO! NOT MORE CHESS WRESTLING!
…Bobby strokes his chin. Before shaking his head and putting it back under the apron…
Bobby looks under the apron… And turns back to the crowd with a smile, nodding his head…
TODD: Oh! I think Bourbon found what he was looking for…
Inside the ring, Deena pulls herself up using the ropes, back to her knees… As Bobby slowly pulls out…
…
A FULL-LENGTH DINING TABLE! COVERED IN CULINARY DELIGHTS FROM UNDERCELEBRATED EASTERN EUROPEAN CUISINE HUBS!
UKRANIAN BORSCHT!
SHASHLIK FROM UZBEKISTAN!
AJARULI KHACHAPURI FROM GEORGIA!
(The country, not the state)
BAMA: …Okay, not gonna lie. Didn’t see that coming, that Bobby would bring out a menagerie of culinary wonders.
TODD: It wouldn’t be a Bobby Bourbon match if it wasn’t full of surprises!
Bobby carefully straightens the tablecloth, which of course, sports the logo of Global Culinary Challenge…
…As inside the ring, Deena shoves off the ropes!
TODD: Sacre bleu! Bobby might have taken too long with this one! Deena’s headed right for him!
Bobby turns around toward the ring…
JUST AS DEENA SOMERSAULTS OVER THE ROPES!
PLANCHA! PLANCHA DRIVING BOURBON AND HIXX THROUGH THE TABLE! ALL THOSE DISHES BOBBY PREPARED GO SKY HIGH! FOOD GOES FLYING EVERYWHERE!
Bits of cuisine fly into the front-row (which, thankfully, actually was provided tarps for this match)
TODD: The Borscht just got blitzed! The Shashlik has been eighty-sixed!
BAMA: I don’t know how to pronounce… Asia-rule-ee Kotch-a-pure-ay? But however you say it, no one’s eating it unless you want to consume it off Bourbon’s skull!
Bourbon’s immobile on the outside… As Hixx crawls arm over arm toward him!
TODD: It’s X-Treme Rules! That means falls count anywhere!
The official slides under the bottom rope and gets in position to count…
Just as Hixx drapes an arm over Bourbon!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NO! Bobby forces a shoulder up!
Bobby slowly pulls himself up by the railing around the ring, as Deena giggles to herself, doing a Voldo walk by the apron…
BAMA: …Something’s wrong with that Deena chick.
Bobby lifts himself up…
As Deena somersaults backwards…
And DRIVES her boots into Bobby’s chin! Bobby gets drilled against the railing! He almost goes over and into the front row!
Before collapsing forward onto his face!
Deena has backed up against the railing, as Bobby shakes the cobwebs off… The outside of the ring is covered in Eastern European food bits!
BAMA: Looks like Deena and Bobby are the last two standing in a giant food fight, Toddrick!
TODD: And it looks like Deena’s about to try and make herself the last woman standing!
As Bobby slowly works his way up to one knee, Deena charges! Her boots flies through the air as she seeks a…
DEENA WIZARD ON THE OUTSIDE!
…
But Bobby catches Deena on his shoulders!
TODD: Oh no! That’s NOT where Deena wants to be!
In a feat of great strength, Bobby hoists Deena up in the air, finding his footing!
Deena’s hands surge to rake Bobby’s eyes…
BUT NOT BEFORE BOBBY DELIVERS A…
BOBBY BOMB TO THE OUTSIDE!
TODD: Oh SHIT! That sounded gnarly!
BAMA: That smack of Deena’s back on the ground sounded like a sack of wet meat getting thrown against a moving car!
The official drops to co-
BOBBY HEAVES DEENA OFF THE PADDED CONCRETE!
TODD: Oh God! Really?!?
BAMA: How strong is Bobby Bourbon?!?
Bobby heaves the quasi-conscious Deena off the padded concrete and lifts his finger in the air, as if asking the crowd ‘want one more?’
They scream!
WHAM!
DOUBLE-BOBBY BOMB TO THE OUTSIDE!
And this time, Bobby forces Deena’s shoulders against the padding!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
TODD: What a match! What a spectacle! Deena Hixx pulled out every trick she could have to try and get the upset over her opponent…
BAMA: But Bobby Bourbon is tougher than a well-done steak made of old boots! He took a licking and he kept on ticking! An impressive showing by Robert Alva Bourbon!
![[Image: wireline.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/xCmXvVpR/wireline.png)
Bama: Mr. Oz may be a multi-billionaire, but I swear he still takes bookings like the rent is due! He spent months having 3 different matches on every Anarchy, he partook in the March Madness tournament, and he even made an appearance on the latest episode of Warfare! I swear to you, Mr. Oz might run Chicago, but you can find him everywhere these days!
Todd: He’s like a weapon of war, Bama, because he just charges towards the fight every time. But tonight, he might be biting off more than he can chew…when he takes on the one and only Apathy!
The sound of a vintage picture reel began to click and pop, the screen illuminating up counting down like a picture show. The pops, scratches, nicks and debris covered the screen, the numbers counting down, 5...4....3....2....1....as the reel continued, electric synth music cuts, industrial and ominous
The road I walk is paved in gold
To glorify my platinum soul
I'll buy my way to talk to God
So he can live with what I'm not
On the screen, a barrage of action shots, in still form from Apathy's career, centered and fixated, like an old film would. As the arena went down, red and white lights bathing the fans in a sea of color, Elizabeth rises from beneath the stage, head lowered, arms outstretched. A mixed chorus of boos, jeers and cheers pelted at her. She gradually raises her head, soaking in the animosity and fervent support. Inhaling it like a drug
This selfish blood runs through my veins
I gave up everything for fame
I am the lie that humans are
I feed the rich and fuck the poor
As the heavy bass kicks in and the words reverberate through the arena, she snaps her head up, a cocky self-assured smirk creeping across her lips as she saunters her way to the ring casually engaging towards the fans either encouraging more of their venomous verbal harassment or acknowledging the respect and adoration from her legions and devotees, basking in the glow
I got what you want
It just don't stop
I got what you want
It just don't stop
This is entertainment
Lies are entertainment
You are down on your knees
Begging me for more
Todd: Apathy had a tough draw in the first round of March Madness, but tonight on Anarchy she’s coming back for more!
Bama: Apathy has a long and storied career in professional wrestling, but this is just her second match in the XWF! A marquee win over Mr. Oz tonight could catapult Apathy into the next echelon!
Todd: That’s the truth, Bama! Mr. Oz is an XWF icon, and a win over him would prove to everyone that Apathy’s ceiling is limitless!
MR. OZ
- vs -
APATHY
X-TREME RULES!
|
When the bell rings, Mr. Oz charges out of his corner like a raging bull! Apathy charges forward with matching tenacity! Oz tries to throw out a huge clothesline, but Apathy ducks beneath it before taking to the ropes. Apathy bounces off the ropes and sprints towards Oz-
She sprints right into Oz’s big boot!
Apathy falls to the mat, but quickly scrambles back up.
But Oz is already waiting for her!
As soon as Apathy rises, Oz grabs her by the collarbone before throwing her across the ring with a hip toss! Apathy flies to the other side of the ring, but she wastes in time in trying to get back up-
But Mr. Oz is a split second faster!
He delivers a running knee into Apathy’s jaw as she tries to stand! Apathy goes flying out of the ring, between the second and the third ropes!
Mr. Oz smirks at the destruction before following his opponent out of the ring.
Bama: Oz is giving Apathy a hell of an Anarchy welcome! He’s giving her no space, no peace, and no quarter!
Todd: Mr. Oz is used to wrestling three matches a night, but with only one Oz match on the card, I think he’s dishing out three-times his usual violence!
Bama: Thank God this is an X-treme Rules match, Todd- because I can’t wait to see what else Mr. Oz has in store for Apathy’s Anarchy debut!
Apathy tries to use the ringside barrier to get back on her feet, but Mr. Oz isn’t giving her any time to recover!
Mr. Oz delivers a striking spear that slams Apathy into the barrier, and right back to the ground!
Then, Oz grabs Apathy by the neck and begins squeezing the life out of her!
Apathy’s lips start to turn blue, and Oz sports a sickening grin as he chokes her harder and harder.
Todd: Mr. Oz is going psycho tonight!
Bama: He’s not trying to win a match, Todd- he’s trying to send a message! And I think it’s working!
Apathy claws at Oz’s hands, trying to get him to release the hold. Oz doesn't relent.
So Apathy starts throwing wild punches from the bottom, trying to land one flush!
SHE CONNECTS!
A big, awkward haymaker connects straight to Oz’s chin. Oz is forced off of Apathy, stumbling backwards while Apathy gasps for air.
Apathy and Oz scramble back to their feet, but Oz is still a split second faster.
So Mr. Oz charges in while Apathy is against the barricade-
Oz goes for a shoulder tackle-
But Apathy dodges it, sliding out of the way just in time!
Oz’s shoulder slams against the barricade with a sickening thud! The fans in the front row grimace as they hear it up close and personal!
Giving Oz no time to rest, Apathy is right on him! She delivers a few stiff kicks to his head before she lifts him up by his collarbone.
Then, she Irish Whips Oz into the steel staircase!
Oz’s massive body collides with the steps!
The sound of the crash rings out all across the arena!
The steps are dislodged from the post, as Oz’s body is strewn all across the steel!
Apathy wipes some blood off her mouth before walking over-
And delivering a jumping face stomp to Oz, while his head is against the steel steps!
Mr. Oz thrashes wildly as his head is forcibly rammed in between the boot and the steel!
Todd: Apathy has taken complete control of this match! She has Mr. Oz right where she wants him: flailing around on the outside!
Bama: Oz took a few nasty shots there, Todd, but he’s not out of it yet! I get the sense that this match is only just getting started!
Apathy picks up Mr. Oz, delivering a few stiff body shots to him before she sets him up for a move on the outside. Apathy pauses for a few seconds, then, she throws Oz into the air with a beautiful overhead belly to belly suplex! She throws Oz against the ringside apron, his spine snapping against the ring before he crashes back down to the ground!
Oz lay on the ground, clutching his lower back in pain, whilst Apathy begins rooting around under the ring.
Oz starts crawling towards the ringside barrier as Apathy is lost in the wonders beneath the ring.
But once Oz is finally able to stand, Apathy pulls out her weapon of choice.
A barbed-wire wrapped baseball bat.
Oz’s eyes go wide as he sees Apathy grinning from ear to ear.
Todd: This isn’t looking so good for Mr. Oz! Apathy has a barbed-wire bat and some bad intentions!
Bama: Mr. Oz needs to get out of dodge, or this could get ugly!
But Mr. Oz isn’t the kind to flee.
He waits patiently, resting against the ringside barrier as Apathy walks his way with vicious intent.
Apathy raises the bat overhead-
And brings it crashing down-
On the ringside barrier!
Mr. Oz moves away just in time!
Apathy tries to pull the bat back for another swing:
But it’s stuck on the barrier! The wire is trapped!
Apathy stands there and tries to force the bat out of the barrier, but it’s not working!
Oz seizes the opportunity!
Oz delivers a brutal kick right to Apathy’s knee, forcing her to cry out in pain and stumble backwards. She releases the bat as she brings her hands down to her knee.
But Oz doesn't let her stumble very far.
Oz grabs Apathy by her wrestling gear, raises her into the sky-
Before planting her back down with a Double A Spinebuster!
The sound of her back cracking against the ground echoes throughout the arena!
Mr. Oz doesn’t delay-
He grabs Apathy one more time as he slides her into the ring under the bottom rope.
But Mr. Oz doesn’t follow.
Instead, he lifts up the ringside apron and begins searching for a tool of his own.
Todd: Mr. Oz might be looking for his favorite weapon down there!
Bama: And if he finds it, then Apathy is in BIG, BIG trouble!
Apathy crawls around in the ring, trying to regain her bearings while Oz searches beneath the ring.
After a few moments, Oz finally finds what he’s been looking for.
A steel ladder.
Mr. Oz slides the ladder into the ring, and he rolls in right behind it.
When Mr. Oz gets into the ring, he picks up the ladder and leans it against the corner turnbuckle. Then, he sets his sights back upon Apathy.
Mr. Oz tries to pick Apathy up into a facelock-
But Apathy has another plan!
Apathy delivers a few gut-wrenching blows to Oz’s midsection, forcing the back man to back up. Then, Apathy grabs a hold of Oz for a Spinning Neck Breaker! The ring rattles as they both fall to the mat!
But Apathy pops right back up!
She delivers a few stiff boots to Oz before she grabs him, lifting him into a front facelock of her own-
Then, she lifts Oz into position for a suplex-
A suplex right into the corner!
A suplex right onto the very ladder that Oz set up!
Oz’s body slams into the steel before crashing to the mat!
Oz rolls away from the corner, trying to put some space between him and Apathy-
But once again, Apathy has another plan.
She grabs the ladder out of the corner, and walks over towards Oz.
Oz tries to stand-
But Apathy swings the ladder at him!
Oz raises his hands to protect himself-
But they’re no use against the steel!
The ladder slams against Oz, driving him back down to the mat!
Apathy hits him again with the ladder!
Twice more!
And once again for good measure!
Todd: The referee needs to do something! Apathy is assaulting Oz with that ladder! He’s not able to defend himself from twenty pounds of steel!
Bama: The referee can’t do anything, Todd: this is an X-treme Rules match! And that means whatever Apathy wants, Apathy does!
Apathy stares down at the wreckage of Mr. Oz- bloodied and bruised- before a twisted grin stretches across her lips. Apathy throws the ladder outside of the ring. Then, she grabs Oz and lifts him back into a standing position.
She lifts him right into….
The Butterfly Effect!
Apathy wraps her arms around Oz's waist, and begins delivering German Suplex’s as many times as possible! A half dozen, a dozen, two dozen German Suplexes rattle the ring as Apathy swings Oz around like a crash test dummy!
Mr. Oz lay flat against the mat, bloodied and breathless, completely unresponsive to the referee. But Apathy doesn’t care. She pushes the referee out of the way before she starts once more upon Mr. Oz!
Apathy walks over to Oz and then grabs their leg, then she holds it up crossing her leg in and grabs the other leg. She then forcefully turns her foe over onto their chest and then grabs their arms and locks her arms underneath their arms, holding them above the mat!
Bama: Affliction! Affliction! She’s locked it in!
Todd: This has to be it for Mr. Oz! Just ring the damn bell! She’s going to kill him!
The referee asks Mr. Oz if he wants to quit, but Oz doesn’t respond! He doesn’t even scream! He just lays there limp, completely unconscious whilst Apathy rips his body apart!
The referee has no choice but to call for the bell!
Apathy releases the hold, letting Oz’s body fall to the mat. Apathy stands tall and waits for the referee to raise her hand, but he’s too busy throwing up an X with his arms! A medical team rushes down the ramp, sliding into the ring and checking on Oz.
Todd: Oh…my….God. Apathy is a MONSTER in that ring! She took Oz way past his limit, and now, he needs urgent medical attention!
Bama: That Apathy chick is one bad bitch, Todd: and she just put the entire Anarchy roster on notice.
Todd: We’re going to cut to a quick commercial break so Oz can get rushed to a hospital. Please bare with us folks, because we will be right back with tonight’s co-main event matchup!
The air in the arena is thick, a pressurized mixture of stale popcorn, pyrotechnic sulfur, and the electric hum of ten thousand fans screaming for blood. This isn’t a standard exhibition; this is Anarchy, and the ringside area is already a graveyard of hardware. Three tables are leaned against the barricades like headstones, waiting for names to be carved into them.
Todd: "Listen to this capacity crowd! The tension is so thick you’d need a chainsaw to get through it. Welcome to XWF Anarchy, I’m Todd, and joined as always by the most opinionated man in the business, Bama. Tonight, we settle a grudge that has spilled out of the locker rooms and into the streets."
Bama: "Cut the fluff, Todd. These two women hate each other's guts. This isn't about points or rankings. A Tables Match is about the physical manifestation of 'over.' You don't just beat someone; you break something under them. It’s psychological warfare with a side of splinters."
The lights flicker, a strobe effect cutting through the smoke as the heavy bass of Jenny Myst’s entrance theme rattles the ribcages of the front row. She emerges not with her usual theatrical flair, but with a cold, predatory gait. Her eyes are fixed on the ring, ignoring the outstretched hands of the fans.
Todd: "There she is. The enigma herself, Jenny Myst. She looks focused, Bama. Almost dangerously so."
Bama: "She’s got that 'Identity Crisis' locked and loaded in her brain, Todd. But to hit it, she’s gotta get Summer Page stationary long enough to climb those ropes. Against a brawler like Page? Good luck."
S&M By Rhianna will play throughout the arena as the crowd cheers while Summer walks down the aisle. Summer gets to the ring side and walks up the ring stairs. Summer looks out at the crowd and raises her arms out to the crowd as the crowd cheers louder. Summer turns her attention to inside the ring where she motions to the referee to open the bottom and middle ropes so they can enter. Summer walks over to the closest ring corner and climbs up to the middle turnbuckle.
Todd: Listen to the crowd’s reaction! They love them some “Spoiled” Summer Page, and frankly Bama, I can’t blame them! Who doesn’t love Summer Page?
Bama: I have a feeling Jenny Myst may have some thoughts on that! I’m not sure how “Spoiled” Summer is tonight, given that she’s got a hell of a challenge ahead of her!
Todd: But if anyone on Anarchy can beat Jenny Myst, it’s gotta be Summer Page!
Bama: Well, we’re about to find out, Todd!
JENNY MYST
- vs -
SUMMER PAGE
TABLES MATCH!
|
The referee barely signals for the bell before the two collide in the center of the ring. It’s not a collar-and-elbow tie-up; it’s a car crash. Summer swings a wild right hand that Myst ducks, countering with a sharp kick to the inner thigh. Page grunts, stepping back, but Myst is relentless, firing off a flurry of forearm shivers that back Page into the turnbuckle.
Todd: "Myst with the speed advantage early! She’s lighting up Page in the corner!"
Bama: "Speed is great until you hit a wall, Todd. And Summer Page is a brick wall with a bad attitude."
Page catches Myst’s third strike, her fingers locking around Myst’s wrist like a vise. With a primal roar, Page uses her superior strength to whip Myst across the ring. Myst hits the opposite turnbuckle hard, the padding doing little to soften the blow. Before she can bounce off, Page is there, burying a shoulder into Myst’s midsection.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Todd: "Page is tenderizing the ribs! Every one of those drives is knocking the air out of Jenny Myst’s lungs. In a match where you need your breath to climb the turnbuckles, that’s a veteran strategy."
Bama: "She’s trying to fold her in half! Look at the leverage!"
Page pulls Myst out of the corner and goes for a short-arm clothesline, but Myst slides underneath, showing off that uncanny agility. As Page turns around, Myst leaps, catching her in a sleeper hold, wrapping her legs around Page’s waist.
Todd: "Myst is like a backpack! She’s trying to choke the life out of Summer Page!"
Page staggers, her face turning a deep shade of crimson as she moves toward the center of the ring. She isn't panicking, though. She’s calculating. She backs up at full speed, slamming Myst’s spine against the turnbuckle. Myst holds on. Page does it again, even harder. On the third attempt, the grip loosens, and Page flips Myst over her shoulder, sending her crashing to the mat.
Bama: "High risk, high reward, Todd. Myst tried to play the technical game, but Page just used gravity and a wooden post to solve that problem."
Summer Page doesn't go for a cover—she can't. Instead, she rolls out of the ring. The crowd erupts as she reaches under the ring apron, the metallic clank of searching through the arsenal echoing. She pulls out the first table.
Todd: "Here we go. The first piece of furniture is entering the equation. Summer Page is setting the stage for Jenny Myst’s demise."
Bama: "Look at the sweat already pouring off them, Todd. We’re only five minutes in and they’re already breathing like they’ve run a marathon. This ring is a pressure cooker."
Page slides the table into the ring, but as she climbs onto the apron, Myst is there. A baseball slide kick catches Page square in the chest, sending her flying backward into the barricade. The table is left sitting harmlessly in the middle of the ring, a silent omen.
Myst doesn't wait. She follows Page to the floor, her boots hitting the concrete with a heavy crack. She grabs Page by the hair, but Summer fights back, slamming Myst’s head into the edge of the announcer’s table.
Bama: "Watch the monitors! Watch the monitors!"
Todd: "Right in front of us! Summer Page just bounced Myst’s skull off the mahogany! Jenny looks out on her feet!"
Page grabs a cable from the floor—a thick, black camera lead—and wraps it around Myst’s throat, pulling back. It’s illegal in a standard match, but here, the referee can only watch and plead.
Bama: "Legal as a handshake in this match, Todd! Page is trying to diminish the oxygen flow. You can't hit a 630 splash if you're unconscious!"
Myst flails, her fingers clawing at Page’s eyes. She finds a mark, raking her nails across Page’s forehead. The grip breaks. Myst gasps for air, staggering toward the steel steps. Page, blinded by the sting and the sudden rush of adrenaline, charges like a bull. Myst moves at the last microsecond.
CRANG.
Todd: "Summer Page just ate the steel ring steps! Her shoulder took the full force of that impact!"
Bama: "That’s a collarbone snapper right there. You see the way she hit? That’s dead weight hitting solid steel."
Myst, sensing the shift in momentum, grabs Page and rolls her back into the ring. The table is still there, folded up. Myst grabs it, her muscles straining as she leans it upright in the corner of the ring. She isn't setting it up on its legs yet; she’s creating a literal wall of wood.
Todd: "What is Myst thinking here? She’s propping that table up in the turnbuckle."
Bama: "She’s looking to launch Summer through it like a lawn dart. It’s about the impact, Todd. The table doesn't care if it’s standing on four legs or leaning on a pole—it just wants to break."
Myst drags Page up by the gear. She hooks the arms, looking for a suplex, aiming right for that leaning table. Page blocks it. She digs her heels into the mat, refusing to leave the ground. She counters with a vertical suplex of her own, lifting Myst high into the air.
Todd: "Page has her up! Is she going to drop her through the table?!"
Myst wiggles mid-air, shifting her weight. She lands on her feet behind Page and shoves her forward. Page stops herself inches before hitting the wood. She turns around into a superkick from Myst!
Whack!
Page falls back, her body thudding against the table, but the wood holds. It doesn't break.
Bama: "The table stayed intact! Page is leaning against it, dazed, but she’s still in this match. That table is sturdier than it looks!"
Todd: "Myst is going for it! She’s looking at the opposite corner. She’s measuring the distance. She wants to end this early!"
Myst charges across the ring, looking for a corner spear to drive Page through the wood, but at the last second, Page recovers, sidestepping the attack. Myst hits the table—but her body merely bounces off it as Page catches her in a side-slam position.
Bama: "Look out! Page has the grip! Side-effect onto the edge of the table!"
Todd: "No! Myst escapes! They’re trading blows again! This is absolute brutality!"
The two women stand in the center of the ring, forehead to forehead, trading massive forearm shots. Crack. Thud. Crack. Neither is backing down. The crowd is on their feet, chanting for the tables, but the competitors are lost in the violence of the moment.
Bama: "This is what XWF Anarchy is all about, Todd. Two athletes, one goal, and a whole lot of insurance claims waiting to happen."
Todd: "We are just getting started, folks. This match is a powder keg, and the fuse is burning short! We are ten minutes into this war, and the ring is starting to look like a construction site gone wrong! Both Jenny Myst and Summer Page are wearing the physical toll of this Anarchy atmosphere. Look at the bruising on the ribs of Myst!"
Bama: "Bruises heal, Todd. Wood doesn’t. These two have been playing a game of 'who blinks first' with that table in the corner, and so far, the furniture is winning. But look at Summer—she’s tired of the finesse. She’s going for the heavy artillery."
Summer Page wipes a smear of crimson from her lip, her eyes narrowing as she stalks Myst. She doesn’t go for a strike. Instead, she kicks the propped-up table flat onto the canvas, then stomps on the metal legs, locking them into place. She isn't just setting up a move; she’s building an altar for the end of the match.
Todd: "Page has the table positioned perfectly in the center of the ring. She’s dragging Myst up by the hair—this is pure disrespect!"
Bama: "It’s not disrespect, it’s control. You control the head, you control the body."
Page hooks Myst’s head under her arm, signaling for a vertical suplex. She lifts Myst into the air, holding her there, letting the blood rush to Myst’s head. The crowd is screaming, half in horror, half in anticipation.
Todd: "She’s got her vertical! She’s looking to drop her straight through the grain!"
Bama: "Hold on—Myst is fighting it! Look at those knees!"
In mid-air, Myst begins driving her knees into the crown of Summer’s head. The momentum shifts. Myst slips down Page’s back, landing on her feet. In one fluid motion, she catches Page around the waist and delivers a German Suplex! Page’s back hits the canvas with a sickening thud, narrowly missing the edge of the table.
Todd: "Centimeters! Summer Page was centimeters away from a trip to the local trauma center!"
Bama: "Myst is gasping for air, Todd. That suplex took everything she had left in the tank. But she can't rest. In a Tables Match, if you’re resting, you’re losing."
Myst rolls to the outside, her hands searching under the ring apron again. She pulls out a second table, then a third. She slides them both into the ring, stacking them near the turnbuckle.
Todd: "A stack? Bama, she’s setting up a double-decker! Jenny Myst is looking to turn this into a catastrophe!"
Bama: "She’s a visionary of violence, Todd. One table is a statement. Two tables is a funeral service. But she’s taking too much time. Look at Summer."
Summer Page has crawled to the far corner, using the ropes to pull herself up. Her breathing is ragged, but her eyes are predatory. As Myst climbs back into the ring, Page meets her with a thunderous Big Boot that sends Myst reeling back against the ropes. Page follows up with a series of devastating headbutts.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Todd: "The sound of those skulls colliding! Page is sacrificing her own well-being just to rattle Myst’s cage!"
Bama: "That’s the 'Bama Way,' Todd! You give a little to take a lot. Myst is wobbling. She’s like a tall building in an earthquake."
Page grabs Myst and whips her toward the stack of tables. Myst manages to put on the brakes, sliding to a halt just before impact. She turns around, but Page is already there, catching her in a bearhug. Page begins to squeeze, the air audibly escaping Myst’s lungs.
Todd: "The life is being crushed out of Jenny Myst! Page is using that raw power to neutralize the high-flyer."
Bama: "She’s cracking the ribs, Todd. You heard that pop? That’s the sound of Myst’s title aspirations being compressed. Page is looking at those stacked tables. She’s thinking Overhead Belly-to-Belly. She wants to launch her!"
Page shifts her grip, prepared to throw, but Myst reaches back and rakes her fingers across Summer’s face. It’s a desperate move, but effective. Page screams, releasing the hold to clutch at her eyes. Myst doesn't waste a heartbeat. She hits a spinning heel kick that sends Page stumbling back toward the center-ring table.
Todd: "Myst with the opening! She’s got Summer dazed near the primary table!"
Bama: "Go for the ropes, Myst! Do it now while she’s blind!"
Myst doesn't go for the ropes yet. She’s too exhausted. Instead, she goes for a high-risk Russian Leg Sweep. Both women crash toward the mat, and the back of Summer’s head clips the corner of the table.
Todd: "Oh! The back of the head! Page hit the steel mounting of the table leg. That’s a nightmare scenario."
Bama: "Both women are down! This match has devolved into a war of attrition. Who wants it more, Todd? Who is willing to crawl through the splinters?"
The referee checks on both competitors. There’s a smear of blood on the canvas now—it’s unclear whose it is. Myst is the first to move, dragging herself toward the ropes. Every movement looks like she’s pulling a freight train. She grabs the middle rope, pulling herself up, but her legs give out. She falls back to her knees.
Todd: "The spirit is willing, but the body is screaming 'no.' Jenny Myst is trying to find the strength to climb."
On the other side of the ring, Summer Page is up. She’s a mess. Her hair is matted with sweat and grit, and she’s favoring her left arm. She sees Myst struggling and a sadistic grin crosses her face. She doesn’t go for the kill yet. She goes for the hardware.
Page grabs the single table in the center and moves it closer to the turnbuckle where the other two are stacked. She’s creating a "kill zone"—a triangular arrangement of wood and steel.
Bama: "She’s building a furniture store in the ring! Todd, if anyone goes down in that area, they aren't getting up until the 2027 season."
Todd: "Summer Page pulls Myst up. She’s got her in position for a Powerbomb! She’s looking at the stack! This is it! This is the end!"
Page hoists Myst onto her shoulders. The crowd is a wall of sound. Page takes a step toward the stacked tables, but Myst starts punching wildly at Summer’s temples. One, two, three rights! Page staggers. Her knees buckle. She doesn't drop Myst through the tables—she drops her onto the apron.
Bama: "A narrow escape for Myst! She’s on the apron, but she’s still in the danger zone."
Page, frustrated and bleeding, charges at the apron. Myst grabs the top rope and pulls it down. Summer’s momentum carries her over the top! But she doesn't hit the floor. She lands on her feet on the outside, immediately grabbing Myst’s ankles and pulling her off the apron.
THUD.
Todd: "Myst’s face just bounced off the edge of the ring! And Summer Page isn't done—she’s clearing the floor! She’s throwing the protective mats back!"
Bama: "Concrete! We’re talking about zero-give concrete, Todd. This is where careers end."
Page grabs a table from the floor and sets it up right against the barricade. She grabs Myst by the throat, looking for a Chokeslam onto the concrete, or perhaps through the barricade-table. Myst fights back, driving an elbow into Page’s throat. Myst jumps onto the barricade, balancing like a tightrope walker.
Todd: "Look at the balance of Jenny Myst! On top of the guardrail!"
Bama: "Don't jump! It’s too far!"
Myst leaps—a massive crossbody off the barricade—sending both women crashing into the concrete floor. The impact is hollow, a sound that makes the front row wince.
Todd: "They’re both broken! The referee is starting a count, but it doesn't matter—there are no count-outs! They could stay out there all night!"
Bama: "That was a suicide mission, Todd. Myst just gambled her entire spine on a crossbody to the floor. Look at them... they’re crawling. They’re literally crawling back toward the ring."
Myst is the first to reach the apron, her fingers digging into the canvas. She slides back in, followed seconds later by a snarling Summer Page. The two women meet on their knees in the center of the ring, trading slow, heavy punches.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
The crowd starts chanting: "THIS IS ANARCHY! THIS IS ANARCHY!"
Todd: "You hear that? The fans know they’re witnessing something special. These two are leaving everything in this ring."
Bama: "They’re leaving skin and blood, too. Look at Summer’s eye—it’s starting to swell shut. She can’t see the table! She doesn’t know how close she is!"
As they trade shots, they drift closer to the table Summer set up earlier. Myst sees it. She blocks a punch, hits a kick to the gut, and attempts a standing moonsault, but Page moves! Myst lands on her feet, but her momentum carries her right into a spinning spinebuster from Page!
Todd: "Spinebuster! But the table! It didn't break!"
Bama: "They hit the mat right next to it! The table is mocking them, Todd! It’s sitting there, perfectly intact, while these two are falling apart."
Summer Page screams in frustration. She grabs the table and throws it across the ring. It slides, hitting the ropes and bouncing back. She is losing her mind. She grabs Myst and starts slamming her head into the turnbuckle over and over.
Todd: "Summer has lost it! The frustration of not being able to finish this is boiling over!"
Bama: "This is when you get sloppy, Todd. And in a match with Jenny Myst, sloppy gets you a one-way ticket to the 'Identity Crisis'."
Summer pulls Myst out of the corner, looking for one last Powerbomb. She lifts her, but her lower back gives out—the result of that German Suplex earlier. She drops Myst. Myst lands on her feet, dizzy but functional. She hits a superkick that sends Page stumbling back, finally draping her across the table that Page had thrown earlier.
Todd: "This is it! Page is down! She’s on the wood! Myst is looking at the turnbuckle!"
Bama: "The tables are turned, literally! But can Myst climb? Look at her legs shaking!"
Myst reaches for the turnbuckle, her hand trembling. She looks at the crowd, then at the broken woman on the table, then up at the rafters.
Todd: "We are on the verge of history or tragedy, Bama! Jenny Myst is heading for the sky!"
Bama: "Godspeed, kid. You’re gonna need it."
Todd: "This is it, Bama! The moment of truth! Jenny Myst is perched on that top turnbuckle, looking down at a broken Summer Page. Page is draped over that table like a sacrifice, but look—she’s stirring! She’s trying to roll off!"
Bama: "She can’t move fast enough, Todd! Myst is locked in. She’s staring a hole through Summer’s soul. This isn’t just about winning a match anymore—this is about an exclamation point on a career!"
The arena has gone deathly silent, the kind of silence that precedes a lightning strike. Jenny Myst stands tall on the narrow wooden sanctuary of the ring post. Her chest is heaving, her gear is stained with the grit of the ringside floor, and her eyes are wide with a mix of exhaustion and pure, unadulterated adrenaline.
Todd: "She’s taking flight! IDENTITY CRISIS!"
Myst launches. It’s a terrifying display of physics and fearlessness. She twists her body in mid-air, a 630-degree rotation that seems to defy the very concept of gravity, blending into the corkscrew snap of the Twisted Bliss. She hangs in the air for a heartbeat that feels like an eternity, a spinning silhouette against the bright arena lights.
Bama: "LOOK OUT BELOW!"
CRASH.
The sound is like a gunshot echoing through the rafters. The table doesn't just break; it disintegrates. The center of the wood snaps violently, sending splinters flying into the air as Myst’s full weight and momentum drive Summer Page straight through the grain and into the hard canvas below.
Todd: "GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY! SHE KILLED HER! SHE KILLED HER AND THE TABLE!"
Bama: "The impact! Did you see the rotation? Myst hit her with the force of a high-speed collision! The table is in toothpicks, Todd! Absolute toothpicks!"
The referee slides into the wreckage, checking for signs of life. Summer Page is motionless, buried under the jagged remains of the table legs and shattered plywood. Jenny Myst is slumped over her, her own body vibrating from the shock of the landing.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Todd: "The bell! The bell is ringing! Jenny Myst has done it! In the middle of the wreckage, in the heart of the Anarchy, the Identity Crisis has spoken!"
Bama: "I’ve been in this business a long time, Todd, and I’ve never seen a woman risk that much just to prove a point. Summer Page is going to be feeling those splinters until the next decade. That was a masterpiece of misery."
Myst slowly rolls off the remains of the table, clutching her ribs, a faint, jagged smile playing on her lips through the sweat and blood. She staggers to her feet, leaning against the ropes as the referee raises her hand.
Todd: "A physical, brutal, and historic encounter here tonight! Jenny Myst stands tall over the ruins of Summer Page. This is XWF Anarchy!"
The bell barely has time to finish ringing when suddenly, out from the crowd, come two figures. There is no mystery as to who they are.
TODD: That’s Korvayne and her Simp!
BAMA: And they didn’t do the masked person mystery thing. No hoods to pull. No masks to peel off. No reveals!
TODD: Because Korvayne wants us all to see her! Why would she hide that perfect face and that amazing hair under a mask and hood?
Summer is out of the ring already but Jenny isn’t. Instead of attacking Jenny like a proper post match attacker would, Kor snags a mic, getting Jenny’s attention while her Simp sneakily moves in behind Jenny unnoticed.
Korvayne: Hey Jenny, tell me if this sounds like static.
Before Myst can respond…
CRACK!
*STATIC*
The microphone shot to Jenny’s skull knocks the XWF classics member backward into the Simp’s waiting, fatty arms. He swallows her into a bear hug from behind and holds her there.
The mic is broken, so the cameras get real close to pick up what’s next.
Korvayne: Look at me, you half-pint piss rat. I’m not gonna cut a five-minute monologue on you because you’re not worth the time, but let me tell you something straight and fast. I’m not Game Girl. You can’t just get your licks in on me and walk away scott free. Tell your group that more of this is coming for what they did to my poor, precious Simpling and me.
She points to her Simp and yells, “SIMP!” while thrusting a thumbs-down gesture.
The blubbery Simp winds up and tosses Jenny to Korvayne…. Right into…
TODD: The Picasso Punch! Korvayne posed in mid-air, too! She got all of it.
BAMA: Down goes Jenny… but wait…. Here comes the backup!
BoB members Asher Hayes and Mr. Oz storm the ring, but Korvayne and her large but oddly agile Simp high-tail it through the crowd, making a gorgeous escape!
Green lasers scatter across the stage.
Graves steps through the curtain. His head tilts, his jaw clenches, and he just stands there long enough to make the crowd feel uncomfortable.
The drums kick in.
The lights sweep the arena in a blast of lime and purple.
Graves lazily starts down the ramp.
TODD: Micheal Graves! What a year he’s had! He won the Anarchy Title… then won the Universal Title and almost escaped March Madness with it!
BAMA: But, now he’s left holding nothing, Todd! What a crime! What an absolute travesty!
TODD: We’ll see what happens with the Anarchy title now that Graves’s student, Miss Furry is holding Thursday Night’s top singles belt… but tonight, Graves is teaming with his uneasy ally, Kristoffer Arroyo! The man who Graves won the Anarchy title from… the man who he teamed with to fend off Hixx and Landerson from becoming Anarchy champions!
BAMA: Graves doesn’t trust Arroyo… or anybody for that matter! But he knows Arroyo’s a solid hand. Hell, that’s an understatement. He knows Arroyo’s a stone cold kiler. In the ring and outside it. And while Graves wouldn’t turn his back on ol’ Vampy, he knows that while they’re on the same team, Vamp will pull his weight!
TODD: But is that enough for this team to get the win tonight against opponents this tough?
Fans reach out, but he pretends not to notice them.
The cameras catch quick cuts on the XTron of Graves smashing faces, laughing mid-beating, spraying mist, weapons, blood, ugly mayhem.
He reaches the ring. Stops. Looks around. Then he slides in under the ropes, stands up slow just as the song hits—
♪ IT'S YOUR FUCKIN' NIGHTMARE ♪
Graves backs into his corner, sliding his cape off his shoulders tossing it aside.
He cracks his neck once and stares across the ring as the music fades.
…
The arena is bathed in a deep red light that brings out the shadows in every nook and cranny as "Deep Set" by Greg Puciato starts to play. Kristoffer Arroyo steps through the entrance way, looking cool and confident behind is bright pink shades. He saunters down to the ring, taking his time and seeming to savor the moment before suddenly exploding into a slide into the ring.
TODD: And there he is! The former Anarchy champion, Kristoffer Arroyo! The VAMP!
BAMA: Vamp tried to help Jenny Myst beat his old manager and the current X-Treme champ, Samael Dyson, at March Madness!
TODD: Yet, Dyson survived! Arroyo is back and he’s still on a mission to give Samael what’s coming to him… And being the #1 contender for the Anarchy Tag Titles would put Arroyo on a collision course with Dyson’s Rollerwhores!
BAMA: Lot riding on this for Vamp. Dyson’s an unpredictable psychopath… Forcing him to show up to maintain his collection of belts might be Vamp’s best shot at attacking Sammy without walking into a potential ambush!
He then steps through the ropes onto the ring apron, where he wraps his legs around the middle rope and hangs himself upside down with his arms outstretched like an inverted cross. He smiles for the camera, revealing long sharpened incisors, before sitting up and rolling up and over the top rope and to the canvas. He then proceeds to get to a neutral corner and wait for the contest to begin.
…
Full black.
The stage alights in red. Smoke gathers around the stage. Gods by Sleep Token plays as XXXVI appears, rising up out of the red lights amidst the smoke, his hands gathered in prayer. He steps out onto the stage and takes in the mixed reaction from the crowd. He shakes his out his head and shoulders and begins to walk down the ramp, hands still in prayer pose. Then from behind him, appears CIX. She follows him down the ramp. Half way down, he spreads his hands apart and reaches out both arms in T-Pose as he crouches, sauntering down the rest of the ramp toward the ring. He climbs onto the apron, outstretches his arms and then enters, rolling backward over the top rope and spins toward the center of the ring, arms outstretched like a helicopter. He then sits, cross legged in the dead center of the ring, hands once again in prayer pose and bows his head. Full black again, then a single, red cone of light bathes him in the ring as fire explodes out of each turnbuckle. Outside the ring, CIX surveys the crowd as they await the match starting.
Todd: And here comes THIRTY-SIX! The man who held the Revolution Title for over half-a-year!
Bama: Nothing tastes worse than coming up short of history, Toddy. XXXVI had a historic Revolution title reign… the *second*-longest in the history of the belt! But he came up short against the stiffest challenge of his reign… The Impossible Traveler!
Todd: SPEAK OF THE TRAVELER![/blue]
“Now, who’s ready to be baptized into a new era of entertainment?!”
The lights go out in the arena as the voice calls out its query. A moment later, bright, twinkling lights like stars scatter across the building.
“Rome wasn’t built in a day
You gotta climb a little higher,
To the top of the display,
Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
The starlight intensifies as a figure rises from beneath the platform, her back to the crowd, head down. The song continues to echo throughout the arena, electric and intense. Her blonde hair is tied into a tight shark-braid that swings back and forth as she bounces from foot to foot.
“If you want it, just take it,
The world's yours, don’t waste it,
Go make the stars align, to shine-”
The rising platform levels to the arena floor in unison with the beat drop to the song.
“BRIGHTER!”
As the word echoes through the arena, an explosion of sparkling pyrotechnics go off as Betsy Granger throws out her arms, revealing a blue chiffon robe lit with bright stars.
“Brighter than the heavens in the skies above,
(oooh oooh)
You’ll be,
BRIGHTER!"
Twirling gracefully to face the crowd, she points skyward as the lights in the arena flood back on. Betsy bounces twice before half-running, half-skipping down the ramp towards the ring.
"Going supernova, all the eyes look up
(at you, at you)
BRIGHTER!”
The song switches to an instrumental break as she does one complete circuit around the ring. Throwing off her cape on the announcer's table, she dashes towards the ring and jumps onto the apron in a one clean move. Using her momentum, she bounces clean over the top rope and spins on her toes to the center of the ring, arms out wide. As she comes to a stop, the music swells, and the crowd joins in like a devoted choir, just the same as the song itself.
“BRIIIIIIIIIGHTEEEEERRRRRRR”
Betsy grins widely and bounces from foot to foot, ready for the fight.
TODD: Betsy Granger and XXXVI looked downright dominant tagging before they met for the Revolution title! The only difference between now and then is the Revolution title went from XXXVI’s waist to Betsy’s!
BAMA: But that small change might make all the difference in the world, Todd! As Vamp and Graves called out… Betsy’s going to swing hard to prove that win wasn’t a fluke! And XXXVI’s gonna play it real close to the vest… er, mask… trying to correct the weakness that let the belt slip from his mitts!
TODD: That’s what Vamp/Graves claim… but Betsy and XXXVI might prove to be of sterner stuff that their opponents think!
…
On one side of the ring, XXXVI’s posture straightens immediately. Behind the mask, his head tilts slightly, body settling into a calm, ready stance. His mask tilts toward his partner, silently offering to start the match. Beside him, Betsy Granger studies him with a playful grin, then nods with a confident shrug as if to say go get ‘em, mysterious one.
XXXVI steps through the ropes.
Arroyo’s eyes narrow as he leans toward his partner to talk out their appr-
Graves snorts loudly, shoulders twitching with impatient energy, unable to stand still even for a moment longer. Without so much as glancing toward Kristoffer Arroyo, Graves charges across the ring like a missile, boots pounding the canvas.
Kristoffer Arroyo, standing on the apron, folds his arms across his chest. His lip curls in faint irritation as Graves barrels forward without strategy.
TODD:
BAMA: Boy fights like a raccoon in a trash can.
The bell rings.
MICHEAL GRAVES & KRISTOFFER 'VAMP' ARROYO
- vs -
BETSY GRANGER © & XXXVI
NUMBER 1 CONTENDER'S MATCH!
The winners of this standard-rules tag match will become the #1 contenders to the Anarchy Tag-Team Championships!
1 RP per team @ 2,000 words
|
Graves and XXXVI head toward a collision in the center of the ring!
Graves is eager to score the first strike swinging at XXXVI’s head with a massive…
SPINNING BACKFIST!
…
But XXXVI’s dip and knees bend in a split-second calculation. He pivots sideways and lets the fist whip over his head before snapping his hips around and delivering a lightning-fast…
DROPKICK!
Connects directly into Graves’ chest!
Graves’ grin widens even as the impact rocks him backward. The shock ripples through his ribs, forcing air from his lungs as he stumbles two steps… But stays on his feet!
Instead of retreating, Graves’ eyes light up with delight.
TODD: Graves is one of the few guys that seems happier when he’s getting hit than when he’s not!
BAMA: Graves is a few fruit loops short of a complete breakfast but he’s got that dawg in him! That viciousness! That hunger to inflict PAIN!
Graves laughs hoarsely, scratching his chest like XXXVI’s kick itched more than it hurt!
Then he lunges forward again.
Graves reached forward like he’s going for a collar-and-elbow… XXXVI’s hand surge forward to oblige hi-
WHAM!
At the last second his knee jerks upward, driving straight into XXXVI’s gut!
A cheap chop block slams into XXXVI’s thigh.
The masked wrestler’s shoulders jerk violently as he doubles over, cradling his abdomen!
TODD: Graves immediately going dirty!
BAMA: Man ain’t here to wrestle clean, Toddrick. He’s here to fuck someone’s shit up!
Graves has forced XXXVI against the ropes, where he’s pounding XXXVI’s back with overhead forearms…
TODD: Graves looking eager to physically punish XXXVI. This isn’t a wrestling match, this is a prison yard beatdown!
BAMA: That’s what your average Graves match looks like, Toddy baby!
Graves grins like a madman as he drags XXXVI away from the ropes, wrapping his arms around XXXVI’s torso and seeking a…
FALLAWAY SLAM!
…
But XXXVI twists his hips mid-lift and lands on his feet!
Graves rises off the mat… just as XXXVI snaps a Dragon Screw dropkick into Graves’ chest!
Graves collapses to one knee with a surprised bark of laughter.
TODD: What is it gonna take to drop Micheal Graves!
The masked wrestler springs upright in one fluid motion, his body coiling with precision. He spins sharply and cracks a superkick across Graves’ jaw!
The smack echoes through the arena!
Graves slams flat on his back!
TODD: Well, we answered that question!
XXXVI bursts forward, leaping for a…
HURRICANRANA!
…But Graves catches him, stopping him in mid-air!
TODD: Uh oh! XXXVI is in no man’s land here!
Graves spins toward his and Vamp’s corner… looking to propel XXXVI with a…
BUCKLE BOMB!
…
But XXXVI counters into a…
HURRICANRANA!
Graves gets propelled into his corner, his head getting crushed into the middle turnbuckle pad!
Vamp looks down, shaking his head impatiently…
XXXVI quickly follows Graves in, looking to pull him out of his corner… Vamp raises his arms, like ‘be my guest’...
TODD: It looks like Arroyo is letting Graves get a lesson in pre-match etiquette here, Bama!
XXXVI starts to pull Gravy out of the corner… but not before Arroyo’s hand surges in between the ropes and secures a tag on Graves’ hip!
BAMA: Blind tag! And I don’t think XXXVI heard it!
XXXVI drags Graves to the ropes, irish whipping him across the ring…
As he does, Arroyo creeps along the apron, hands secured on the top rope…
XXXVI heads to the center of the ring, seeking a back body drop!
…But Graves simply goes up and over the top rope, landing on his feet and slipping to the outside!
…XXXVI looks confused by this decision…
As Arroyo springboards off the top rope and clips the back of XXXVI’s neck with a SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK!
That moment, Graves clips Betsy’s ankle off the apron, dragging her to the floor!
TODD: Uh oh! It looks like Vamp and Graves are working well here! Was that dissension we saw earlier a ruse?
BAMA: Maybe, Toddrick! But, more likely, Graves and Vamp just know how to turn it on when there’s blood in the water!
Vamp turns XXXVI onto his back and covers…
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NO! XXXVI kicks out!
TODD: Phew! Somehow, some way, XXXVI manages to keep the match going!
Kristoffer Arroyo’s lips curl in faint irritation at the kickout…
He drives his forearm across XXXVI’s throat and grinds downward, pressing his weight arrogantly into the masked man’s windpipe.
XXXVI’s hands claw at the mat as the pressure builds.
Arroyo’s jaw clenches as he drags XXXVI upright by the wrist, his posture stiff with condescending control.
He twists sharply—
ARM WRINGER!
XXXVI’s shoulder snaps downward violently as the torque ripples through the joint.
Arroyo follows it up by yanking XXXVI forward and driving a sharp knee into his ribs, then immediately spins him around and whips him into Graves’ corner.
Graves, still shaking cobwebs from earlier, suddenly grins when he sees XXXVI approaching.
His eyes flash with predatory excitement.
Arroyo slaps Graves’ chest with a tag.
TODD: And now Graves is back in!
BAMA: Things were bad when XXXVI was getting dog-whipped by Vamp… Now they’re even worse! Graves is looking like a junkyard dog who just heard the dinner bell!
XXXVI staggers out of the corner, clutching his ribs.
Graves’ eyes widen with gleeful cruelty.
He charges.
SPEAR!
The impact folds XXXVI in half, slamming him violently into the canvas.
Graves immediately rolls on top of him for a cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NO! XXXVI kicks out again!
TODD: XXXVI demonstrating just how much fight he has in him!
Graves is unfazed by his opponent’s resilience… instead, he grabs a fistful of XXXVI’s mask and drags him upright, his grin widening as he notices Betsy reaching desperately over the ropes.
XXXVI’s head tilts toward his corner.
He reaches an arm out.
Just inches short.
Graves notices.
His grin turns malicious.
He suddenly yanks XXXVI backward by the waist and throws him with a brutal FALLAWAY SLAM, sending the masked wrestler tumbling halfway across the ring.
XXXVI lands hard.
Graves pops up instantly, bouncing with manic energy.
He stumbles toward his corner and tags Arroyo again.
Arroyo enters far more slowly.
His eyes flick briefly toward Betsy.
Then toward XXXVI struggling to crawl.
His lip curls.
He stalks forward and plants a boot squarely on XXXVI’s back, halting the crawl entirely.
TODD: Betsy desperately calling for the tag!
BAMA: And Vamp is makin’ sure that ain’t happenin’ no time soon!
Arroyo drags XXXVI up by the mask and whips him into the corner, following immediately behind.
RUNNING KNEE LIFT!
XXXVI’s head snaps backward from the impact.
Arroyo’s eyes gleam with theatrical delight.
He climbs onto the middle rope.
And begins delivering the rest.
KNEE!
KNEE!
KNEE!
TEATRO GROTTESCO!
XXXVI slumps downward in the corner.
Arroyo spreads his arms theatrically as the crowd roars.
TODD: Arroyo putting on a sadistic display here tonight!
BAMA: Vamp treatin’ this like performance art, Todd!
Arroyo sneers toward Betsy one more time.
Then casually tags Graves.
Graves barrels back into the ring with unrestrained enthusiasm.
He yanks XXXVI out of the corner and plants him with a brutal NECKBREAKER.
XXXVI rolls across the mat in pain.
Betsy reaches desperately.
Graves sees it again.
And laughs.
He grabs XXXVI’s ankle and drags him backward across the mat, isolating him once more.
Graves swings a wild backfist—
But XXXVI ducks beneath it.
Then suddenly explodes.
POISONRANA!
Graves flips violently onto his head and shoulders.
The arena erupts.
XXXVI collapses forward, crawling desperately toward his corner.
Graves scrambles blindly on the mat, stunned.
Both men lunge.
Arms stretch.
Fingertips reach—
TAG!
The arena explodes.
TODD: HERE COMES BETSY!
Betsy vaults over the ropes like a missile.
Her eyes blaze with excitement.
Graves is just getting to his feet when she charges…
Graves’s reflexes are quick, looking for a decapitating…
BACKFIST!
…But Betsy ducks under! And backflips!
PELE KICK!
The heel cracks against Graves’ temple!
Graves stumbles sideways.
Betsy kips up to her feet… and!
REVERSE ROUNDHOUSE KICK!
Graves drops to one knee.
Betsy sprints to the ropes and rebounds.
ROLLING KOPPU KICK!
Graves collapses flat on the canvas.
BAMA: LORD HAVE MERCY SHE’S MOVIN’ AT LIGHT SPEED!
TODD: Betsy’s feet are cutting through Graves like a lightsaber!
Graves staggers backwards into the ropes…
Arroyo tags himself in! The Vamp rushes into the ring to stop the momentum.
His face is twisted with irritation.
He grabs Betsy’s arm—
But Betsy pivots instantly.
Her expression sharpens with focus.
She hooks the arm.
Drops her weight.
And sweeps Arroyo’s legs out from under him.
DOWN YOU GO! — COBRA CLUTCH LEGSWEEP!
Arroyo crashes onto his shoulders.
Betsy rolls him up tight.
ONE!
TWO!
THREEEEEEE—NOOOOOOOOOOO!
Arroyo kicks out at the last possible moment!
TODD: OH MY! THAT WAS SO CLOSE!
BAMA: Vamp nearly got sent to the shadow realm right there!
Betsy steps forward with purpose, reaching down to grab Arroyo by the wrist.
Arroyo’s eyes flash with irritation as she pulls him upright.
She slips behind him, her arms hooking around his torso as her stance lowers.
Her lips curl into a confident grin.
The crowd begins to rise.
TODD: Betsy setting him up!
BAMA: Uh oh… she’s lookin’ for that Galactic Advantage!
Betsy pulls Arroyo backward, preparing to lift him into the Snapmare Driver—
But suddenly her entire body jolts.
Her eyes fly wide.
Behind her, Michael Graves’ grin is feral.
Both of his thumbs are buried deep into Betsy’s eyes.
The referee shouts in outrage as Betsy shrieks and staggers forward, clutching her face.
TODD: OH COME ON! That’s an eye rake! That’s an illegal maneuver!
BAMA: Does it get a DQ? No? Then, it ain’t really illegal, Toddrick, merely frowned upon!
Graves cackles wildly, his shoulders bouncing with manic energy as he grabs Betsy by the arm.
With violent enthusiasm he hurls her across the ring into the corner.
Betsy crashes chest-first into the turnbuckles, stunned.
But as she slumps forward—
A hand slaps her shoulder.
TAG!
XXXVI vaults over the ropes.
TODD: XXXVI back in the match!
XXXVI bursts forward with focused intensity.
Graves turns toward him just in time—
The masked wrestler leaps forward.
SLING BLADE—
But Graves’ eyes flash with sudden animal instinct! The Dark Warrior snatches XXXVI out of mid-motion, grabbing him around the waist with shocking brute strength.
The crowd gasps as Graves muscles XXXVI up onto his shoulders!
BAMA: OH LORD!
TODD: Graves Consequences incoming!
Graves plants his feet, arms tightening as he prepares the Razor’s Edge Powerbomb—
But XXXVI’s masked head jerks toward the mat.
His body coils with desperate urgency.
He twists sideways.
Slides down Graves’ back.
And drags him violently to the mat!
The moment Graves lands, XXXVI’s arms wrap around his neck.
His forearm snakes beneath the chin.
His body hooks tightly behind Graves’ shoulders.
DRAGON SLEEPER!
TODD: THIRD EYE BIND—NO! HE’S GOT THE SLEEPER LOCKED!
Graves’ eyes bulge.
His hands claw wildly at the mat as the choke clamps down.
His legs kick violently.
His face reddens.
The Dark Warrior writhes like a trapped animal, thrashing his body across the canvas trying to escape.
He twists.
Rolls.
Finally flips onto his stomach, dragging XXXVI with him as the masked wrestler clings desperately to the hold.
The choke tightens.
Graves’ arm begins to weaken.
TODD: This is it! Graves’ weaselly black little lungs are going to give out! We’re about to have new #1 Anarchy Tag contenders!
Across the ring, Kristoffer Arroyo watches.
He suddenly bursts forward.
XXXVI’s masked head lifts just enough to notice—
Too late.
CURBSTOMP!
Arroyo’s boot crushes XXXVI’s face straight into the canvas.
The impact explodes through the arena.
The choke releases instantly.
TODD: GOOD GOD!
BAMA: VAMP JUST TURNED THAT MAN INTO A BLOOD SPLATTER!
Arroyo’s chest rises slowly as he stares down at XXXVI’s motionless body.
Then, with cold precision, he rolls him onto his back.
He hooks the leg.
ONE!
Across the ring, Betsy shakes off the lingering pain in her eyes.
She sees the cover.
Her face floods with panic.
She sprints forward.
TODD: Betsy trying to break it up!
But Michael Graves sees her coming.
Still wheezing from the choke, he grins through the pain.
At the last second he throws his arm outward and clips Betsy’s ankle.
Betsy crashes hard onto the canvas, fingertips stretching desperately toward the pin.
TWO!
Betsy claws forward—
But Graves grabs her leg and drags her backward.
THREE!
| Winners: Kristoffer Arroyo and Micheal Graves |
TODD: It’s over! Graves and Arroyo steal it!
BAMA: I told you, Todd! When them two smell blood, they get downright nasty!
TODD: And now, they’ve earned themselves a shot at tag-team gold
BAMA: But that’s all the time we have tonight, folks! Tune in next time to see the fallout from tonight’s crazy show!
Thanks To All Our Wonderful Match Writers
Peter Principal
Jenny Myst
Charlie Nickles
& Our Fantastic Segment Writers
Centurion
Korvayne
& to everyone who RPed! |
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