LIVE FROM SCOTIABANK SADDLEDOME
CALGARY, ALBERTA, CANADA
(near Fort Assiniboine - Home of the World’s Largest Wagon Wheel)
Ice Coffin of the Sleeping Ancient
ROUND ONE
El Landerson
- vs -
Asher Hayes
- vs -
Latoya Hixx Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO
Stage Hazard - ICE!
Eurydice Shrine - Gate of the Gods
ROUND ONE
Game Girl
- vs -
Deena Hixx
- vs -
‘Her XCellency’ Jenny Myst Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO
Lakeside Coliseum
ROUND ONE
Dickie Watson
- vs -
Apathy
- vs -
Betsy Granger Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO
We open Savage in the talent carpark at the Scotiabank Saddledome, with marching feet. The camera pans from an XWF logo on the side of a truck to the armed forces of the Kingsguard. And by ‘armed forces’, we’re talking fully armed.
Each member of the Kingsguard seems to have added a semi-automatic assault rifle to their standard armour and blunt weaponry—pulling out no stops to protect their valued leader.
Tommy Gunn directs the army into formation, creating a funnel for none other than Kieran King…
Star of the Year 2025.
2x King of the XWF.
3x Universal Champion.
Oh… and the president of the XWF Union.
A scuffle breaks out at the entrance to the rest of the building and Tommy Gunn charges forward with his rifle drawn.
Kieran King: Stand down!
Kieran stormed forward and intercepted his Kingsguard Captain. The Kingsguard all stepped back but kept their trigger fingers ready. Kieran backed them all away from their target—the ever-affable Steve Sayors.
Sayors straightened his tie and stammered.
Steve Sayors: Th-thank you, Your Grace.
Kieran clasped Sayors's shoulder.
Kieran King: Anyone ever tell you that you've got balls of steel, Steve? I see you went for the classic middle-aged white man look today too.
Steve Sayors: Yes, well, err… I don't really like to talk about how all those changes happen…
Kieran King: Understandably so. I take it that you've waiting for me?
Sayors's eyes lit up.
Steve Sayors: Yes! I wanted to catch you at Warfare two weeks ago, but—
Kieran King: But I didn't show up.
Sayors nodded.
Kieran King: And then I didn't show up at Anarchy. Or at Warfare last night.
Steve Sayors: The office was expecting some sort of grandiose celebration! But instead all we saw was you visiting with the Trillionaires.
Kieran King: Sounds like the true office knew exactly where I was then.
Steve Sayors: I mean… I guess…?
Kieran King: Did you know, that after winning this title back at Relentless, I competed in more matches in my first two months as champion than any other Universal Champion in years? And yet, still people thought I was doing things the easy way. So you know what they say… if you can't beat ‘em…
Steve Sayors: JOIN ‘EM!
Sayors was very eager to show that he knew the idiom.
Kieran smiled, bemused.
Kieran King: I was putting in that effort to make a statement. This time? There is no bigger statement to be made than doing what I do better than anyone else… winning tournaments. Nobody has ever won March Madness back-to-back, except me. Nobody WILL ever go back-to-back-to-back. Except me.
Steve Sayors: That's going to be tough with the Trillionaires seemingly having it out for you. Just what did you guys discuss? I heard it was something about a new collective bargaining agreement?
Kieran King: Something like that.
Steve Sayors: C'mon! You've got to give us something!
Kieran King: Fine, I'll tell you this—people who have been as successful in their respective fields as Elon, Jeff, and Mark tend to have a lot in common with other people who have been extremely successful in their own fields.
Steve Sayors: Do you mean yourself? Were you guys forming an alliance?
Kieran King: Those are your words, not mine. We certainly agreed that the XWF needed a tad more security after what happened at Snow Pain Snow Gain.
Steve Sayors: …After ALIAS? Are you worried he's going to show up again tonight?
King chuckled.
Kieran King: Don't get distracted by the fire and the moody ambience. He's just a man. He bleeds like anyone else. I've seen it more than you even know. But the thing about the human body, is its very, VERY vulnerable to bullets.
Kieran thumbed at the weapon in Tommy Gunn’s hands.
Kieran King: The ALIAS problem has been addressed. Now all that there is left to do is strap yourself in for the ride… because you're about to see history get made.
Kieran clapped Steve’s arm and went inside, accompanied by his rifle-wielding Kingsguard.
Before following, Tommy Gunn looked Stebe Sayors up and down and reminded him…
Tommy Gunn: Long live the king.
And the camera faded out.
When the Storm is Coming hits, a familiar laugh fills the air. Latoya Hixx revealed herself behind a frozen sheet of ice, stalking her way out from behind and towards the open air as the cameras tracked her moves. She flexes and spreads her arms as she moves, shouting ‘Let’s go!’ into a nearby camera lens as she waits for the action to come.
JR: You gotta commend Latoya Hixx, if nothing else. It takes a real crazy woman to be willing to step onto a literal ice bed and not even flinch at what she’s having to do.
JC: I’m sure Latoya Hixx wants more than just some commendations though, Joe. That said, she’s got the perfect opportunity to do that tonight with her raw strength!
The opening riff to "Song for the Dead" by Queens of the Stone Age kicks in. At the 37 second mark, the name "Asher Hayes" blares through the PA system, and Asher appears between rows of icicles, wearing a long leather jacket, his face full of focus. He bows down for a few moments before standing up straight, throwing both fists in the air, before making his way towards the ring.
“It's late enough to go driving
And see what's mine
Life's the study of dying
How to do it right"
He makes his way down past the icicles, staring off to see no fans having made their way out into the frigid cold tonight. He slings the jacket off his shoulders, his face scrunching as he glares towards Latoya.
JC: Folks, you wanna talk about an explosive debut here, this could have everything you’d want. Asher Hayes, decorated veteran of the squared circle, his career spanning over twenty years and he’s on the grandest stage right now!
JR: Whole new ball game here in the XWF. But you look at his face, he’s ready. He’s hungry. He could make an impact from day 1 depending on how he does in this tournament, Jack, and I think he knows that fact.
“You're a holy roller
If you bettin' to lose
If you're hanging around
I'm holding the noose"
His expression remains focused as he looks toward the auroras hanging in the sky, before circling around, removing his jacket and handing his belongings to the ref.
"Ah, ah, ah, ah
Ah, ah, ah, ah
Ah, ah, ah, ah
Ah, ah, ah, ah
Come a little bit closer
And get untied
In a hearse rolling over
Just a track in the line
Fuck it..."
Asher then calmly stretches out, waiting for the match to begin.
When Booyaka 619 hits, El Landerson walks behind a giant icicle that distorts his figure for a brief moment, turning him into that of a giant before he walks right past it. As the camera focuses on him, he takes a moment to drop to a knee and pray.
JC: El Landerson’s been looking for a chance for a while now to truly have a breakout moment, but you can’t deny how much heart this man has.
JR: Lot of heart, but he’s gonna need to put it to good use. He’s got his work cut out for him here tonight, but he’s eager to take the challenge on.
Landerson gets back up to his feet, making his way towards his opponents as he poses in front of the cameras with his fingers in the air. As he closes the distance towards both Hayes and Hixx, he smiles, bouncing light on his feet and waiting for the match to begin.
“Amidst the arctic wastelands, these fighters must learn what it takes to survive… or let their names be frozen within time.”
Ice Coffin of the Sleeping Ancient
ROUND ONE
El Landerson
- vs -
Asher Hayes
- vs -
Latoya Hixx Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO
Stage Hazard - ICE!
The match quickly begins as an uneasy silence hangs over the field of ice. Asher looks between both Latoya and Landerson, trying to remain light on his feet as he does so.
JC: I’ve never seen a match like this take place in the Arctic like this, Joe. It’s a miracle these three aren’t freezing where they stand right about now.
JR: They better hope they finish this match quickly, or that just might come true!
El Landerson quickly takes the lead as he runs straight for Asher Hayes! Hayes sees him coming and raises a big boot to try and take the little man out soon, but Landerson is quick on his feet! He slides right underneath the boot and goes past Hayes…
But the slippery ice continues to carry him forward as he struggles to get back to his feet!
JC: We’ve only just begun, and already the stage hazard here is impacting the flow of the match!
JR: These guys are gonna go flying at just the slightest touch…
As Landerson continues to slide on the ice, he ends up coming straight towards Latoya Hixx who picks up Landerson like a ragdoll off the ice! She hoists him up high - RELEASE BELLY-TO-BELLY SUPLEX!
BUT LANDERSON FLIPS IN MID-AIR! HE LANDS ON HIS FEET BEFORE FALLING TO ALL FOURS FROM THE SLIPPERY ICE!
Hixx sees Landerson escaping danger as she quickly gets back to her feet, but Asher Hayes is right behind her! He quickly grabs her arm and yanks it tight into a hammerlock! Hixx grimaces as she tries to throw an elbow behind her, but Hayes cuts her off with a loud SLAP to the head!
Hayes has Hixx in position as he wraps his free arm around her neck! He shoots himself back - REVERSE DDT RIGHT ON THE ICE!
JC: Hayes wasting zero time controlling the match right now, Joe! He’s looking to break into here with a full head of steam behind him!
JR: Any impact you take on a hard surface like ice is going to hurt a thousand times worse than just taking it inside the ring. And just think, if your skin starts to stick to the ice as well…
JC: I’d rather not think about that, thanks.
As Hayes sits on the ice, Landerson quickly comes back in, running towards Hayes and nailing him with a basement dropkick! Hayes eats the shot as he quickly rolls back to his feet, but Landerson is right in front of him!
Gut kick by Landerson- CAUGHT! Hayes goes for a sharp elbow in retaliation- DUCKED BY LANDERSON NOW!
Landerson quickly uses his speed to hop into a hurricanrana! He brings himself back-
OH! BUT HAYES IS REFUSING TO GO DOWN EVEN ON UNSTABLE FOOTING! He shakes his head no as he wrenches Landerson back up on high in powerbomb position! But he throws him off towards a standing position again-
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!
JC: Holy- did you hear that knee strike to El Landerson’s skull?! You could have told me that was the damn ice breaking apart, and I’d believe you!
JR: Hayes has some remarkable core strength to be able to hold himself steady on that hurricanrana attempt there. Makes me wonder what his workout routine is like…
El Landerson slumps back while prone as Hayes seizes his chance to go for the pin!
ONE!
TWO!
LATOYA HIXX BREAKS UP THE PIN!
Hayes is angrily forced onto his feet as he throws a right hand, but Latoya is just a split second quicker against the veteran! A release German Suplex sends Hayes flying across the ice, leaving Latoya against Landerson as she proceeds to put the boots to the Bit Luchador!
JC: Latoya picking her spot right now like a vulture. Landerson’s got a lot to recover from right now, and she’s not making it easy on him!
JR: Not exactly kosher depending on who you talk to, but I like it. Gotta keep your odds alive in March Madness however you can!
Landerson comes back alive though, moving himself in a circle as he sweeps Latoya’s legs out from underneath her! Her body gives a sickening crack off the ice as she winces, allowing Landerson to get back up onto his feet!
He quickly pivots around, allowing him to flip and hit Latoya with a standing Moonsault! He tries his luck by hooking the leg!
ONE!
HIXX KICKS OUT BY THROWING LANDERSON OFF OF HER AND HALFWAY ACROSS THE ICE!
JC: Landerson just got thrown around like a damn lawn dart!
JR: I think most people can agree that Latoya is many… many things. But she’s got a helluva lot of strength to her name especially!
Hixx circles around towards Landerson, stalking him like prey, but she’s pulled around by Asher Hayes!
Hixx throws a right hand, but this time it’s Hayes who’s the faster of the two with a right hand of his own! The impact rocks Hixx back as he follows up with a knife-edge chop! Hixx staggers backwards as Hayes looks to pursue!
But El Landerson comes up from behind Hayes with a dropkick to the back! Hayes winces, needing a minute to catch his breath!
JR: Look at that, Jack. You think that German Latoya gave him earlier did a number on his back?
JC: It’d sure seem like it, Joe. It doesn’t help either that Hayes frequently deals with lingering issues from a terrible back injury suffered all the way back in 2009.
Hayes rights himself, only to see another right hand coming from Latoya Hixx! He sidesteps out of the way of the blow, watching as it rocks Landerson right across the face!
Hayes sees this as his opening now! He throws a knife-edge chop to Latoya that lights up her chest! A kick to the gut doubles the dazed Landerson over!
Latoya tugs Hayes over to face her, but Hayes is once again quicker as he pokes her with a thumb right to the eye! Hixx staggers back, trying to blink out the pain! Hayes quickly follows up with a knife-edge chop to Landerson, enough to send him spinning!
Hayes sees both Hixx and Landerson aren’t looking at him, and a devious idea comes to mind. He flashes a shit-eating grin towards the camera, before feigning a loud grunt as he falls on his side right onto the ice!
JC: What the- what is Asher Hayes doing?!
Latoya and Landerson both recover and notice the downed Hayes! They go to move in for a cover, before noticing the other nearby as they stare daggers at each other!
JR: He’s performing a brilliant strategy, that’s what!
The fighting starts right back up as Latoya shoves Landerson across like the damn freak of nature she is!
Landerson rolls back onto his feet as he quickly darts in and goes for a kick to Latoya’s gut - CAUGHT BY LATOYA - ENZUIGIRI BY LANDERSON!
That one brought Latoya to a knee finally as she has to rub her jaw that got absolutely rocked by Landerson! Landerson picks himself up, rights himself on the ice, as he darts in to follow up with an explosive bulldog!
But he’s not done! He picks himself right back up onto his feet, only to jump again into a leg drop!
Landerson gets right back up onto his feet one more time! He skates across the ice backwards, trying to hold himself steady… BEFORE HE RUSHES FORWARDS!
HE LEAPS!
RUNNING LANDERSON FROG SPLASH!
ROLLED OUT OF THE WAY BY LATOYA!
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!
JC: Oh, that impact was sickening! El Landerson just threw himself right into the ice!
JR: Check it out, Jack! The ice just cracked from that fall!
El Landerson is sporting one hell of a busted nose as he pulls himself right back onto his feet- BUT LATOYA SPRINTS AT FULL SPEED TO KNOCK HIS HEAD OFF WITH A BICYCLE KICK!
LATOYA REVELS AT STANDING ON TOP!
BUT SHE TURNS AROUND INTO A RUNNING HIGH KNEE FROM ASHER HAYES!
JC: LATOYA HIXX JUST LEARNED WHAT IT’S LIKE TO GO FROM DUST TO DUST!
LATOYA HIXX STAGGERS ON HER FEET, BEFORE SHE SLOWLY TIMBERS BACKWARDS… RIGHT INTO THE CRACKED ICE!
AND IT BREAKS UNDERNEATH HER WEIGHT!
RING OUT!
LATOYA HIXX - RINGED OUT!
JR: We got medics coming out right now to drag Hixx from the waters!
As the paramedics swarm the scene, there’s still a match going on! Hayes sees the downed Landerson and quickly locks him into a modified Sharpshooter!
JC: And Asher Hayes is proving himself to be quite the Dream Killer right now!
LANDERSON IS STRUGGLING IN THE SUBMISSION HOLD! HE’S GOT A LOT OF HEART, BUT THERE’S NO ROPE BREAKS TO GIVE HIM ANY SORT OF SALVATION!
HAYES IS WRENCHING THE HOLD IN AS TIGHT AS HE CAN! HE’S SCREAMING FOR LANDERSON TO GIVE UP!
LANDERSON FEEBLY REACHES TOWARDS THE OPEN ICE PIT FOR LEVERAGE… BUT HE CAN’T MAKE IT THERE!
LANDERSON TAPS OUT!
WINNER: ASHER HAYES!
JC: EXPLOSIVE first win for Asher Hayes here! He may have gotten a fair few lumps along the way, but no one can deny that he came out and got what he wanted here tonight!
JR: And by any means too, Jack! Gotta say, I like what I saw!
As the medics finish taking a shivering Latoya Hixx out of the ice water, Hayes smirks as he raises his hands up high, beginning the long trek back to safety as he enjoys his win.
Savage rolls on to commercial.
"Sex Metal Barbie" by In This Moment plays as Jenny Myst makes her way to the coliseum.
The lights drop hard.
A low pink glow bleeds across the arena as the opening pulse of “Sex Metal Barbie” hits—industrial, predatory, unmistakable. The crowd reaction swells immediately, a mix of boos, awe, and uneasy anticipation, because everyone knows what that song means.
Then she steps through the curtain.
Jenny Myst doesn’t rush. She arrives.
Leather gleams under the lights as she pauses at the top of the ramp, chin tilted slightly upward, eyes scanning the crowd like she’s counting debts. Her expression is calm, almost bored, but there’s cruelty sitting just beneath it, coiled and patient.
On the second beat drop, she rolls her shoulders and starts down the ramp with deliberate, confident strides. Each step syncs with the rhythm—measured, heavy, inevitable. She ignores the fans reaching out, the insults, the chants. Their noise doesn’t register. This isn’t their moment. It’s hers.
Halfway down, Jenny stops.
She turns slowly, eyes locking with the hard camera, and smirks—not playful, not charming, but sharp. A reminder. She lifts Mortimer just enough for the gold to catch the light, mouthing a few words only the camera gets: mine. Then she lets the title fall back against her shoulder like it belongs there… because it does.
Inside the coliseum, she walks straight to the center, turning once more as the music continues to snarl through the arena.
The music fades.
And suddenly, the area feels smaller.
JR: Fan-favorite, Jenny Myst has made her way to the fighting pit!
JC: Fan favorite?! What fans have you been talking to?! Jenny Myst is one of the most loathed members of the roster! She totally screwed up the X division, she cost Game Girl her big moment, and she’s allied with Charlie Nickles and his goon squad!
JR: Well…I’m sure some fans somewhere like Jenny Myst!
JC: Not in this building, they don’t!
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 coliseum as she waits for her next Opponent to arrive.
JR: Deena Hixx has beef with Jenny Myst, and possibly with Game Girl- stemming from their tag-team match last Warfare where GG served as the special referee! Tonight could be Deena’s big night, where she gets revenge for the humiliation she suffered last week at the hands of Jenny Myst and The Director!
JC: If Deena’s ever had a reason to fight, it’s gotta be this! Jenny Myst really gave it to Deena in that match, and I know Deena can’t wait to get some sweet revenge!
Helix Nebula by Anamanaguchi blasts as colored lights in beat to the rhythm pass over the roaring crowd. When the beat kicks in Game Girl swoops down from the rafters on her flying cloud, Nimbus, going over fans and reaching down to give them passing high fives before sailing over to the coliseum and flipping down to her feet into a fist-raising pose.
JC: It’s Game Girl! Hear the roar of the crowd! They love her!
JR: But look at the look of disgust on Jenny’s face- it’s clear there is no love lost between those two!
JC: Jenny and Game Girl have captivated the XWF Universe with their feud, but tonight, it goes to the next level as a spot in the quarterfinals of March Madness is on the line!
Eurydice Shrine - Gate of the Gods
ROUND ONE
Game Girl
- vs -
Deena Hixx
- vs -
‘Her XCellency’ Jenny Myst Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO
JR (Joe Rogan):“Okay first of all… this is insane. There is no ring. This is just stone. If someone falls down those steps, that’s not wrestling. That’s physics.”
JC: “Sí, Joe, but this is spiritual combat. The mountain chooses who wins.”
Bodies collide. Boots scrape against wet stone. Game Girl barely keeps her footing while Deena crashes shoulder-first into one of the carved guardian statues.
A hollow crack echoes.
JR:
“Jesus. That sound alone—”
Jenny doesn’t wait.
She sweeps Game Girl’s legs. Game Girl flips backward, slamming spine-first onto the steps. The impact bounces her down two more uneven tiers before she catches herself on a handrail post.
Jenny stalks forward, boots deliberate. She grabs a fistful of Game Girl’s neon hair extensions and drags her up the steps like she’s hauling loot.
JC:
“Jenny moves like she’s done this before.”
JR:
“She moves like she doesn’t care about long-term damage.”
Deena charges.
Full sprint up the incline.
She spears Jenny from the side.
All three women tumble sideways off the central stairway and into a gravel prayer clearing. The fall isn’t graceful. It’s ugly. Ankles twist. Elbows scrape. Jenny’s shoulder smacks against a wooden offertory box.
Game Girl rolls out coughing.
Deena mounts Jenny and throws forearms — fast, desperate, heavy.
This isn’t polished EPW pacing.
This is streetfight rhythm.
Jenny absorbs three.
On the fourth, she bites.
Not theatrical. Not exaggerated.
She bites Deena’s wrist.
Deena recoils with a scream.
JR:
“Oh that’s real. That’s real.”
JC:
“La montaña approves violence.”
JR:
“…That’s not how mountains work.”
Game Girl scrambles to her feet and yanks down one of the thick shrine ropes used for ceremonial bells. It doesn’t come loose fully — but it gives enough.
She swings it.
The rope smashes into Jenny’s ribs.
A second swing catches Deena across the back.
Game Girl laughs.
“NEW LEVEL UNLOCKED!”
Jenny lunges low and tackles Game Girl into a shallow reflecting pool beside the shrine. Water splashes violently over the stone lip.
They hit submerged rock.
Game Girl’s head narrowly avoids a corner.
Jenny presses her face into the water.
Bubbles explode upward.
JR:
“Oh my god she’s drowning her.”
Deena slides into frame and drives a knee into Jenny’s temple, breaking it up. All three women are soaked now. Clothes heavy. Hair plastered. Stone even slicker.
They climb again.
Higher.
Each step narrower than the last.
Camera angles widen to show the drop behind them.
Jenny hooks Deena’s arm and whips her into a wooden lantern post. The post splinters partially.
Deena collapses sideways.
Game Girl runs at Jenny with a flying forearm — slips mid-air — crashes chest-first into the steps instead.
The sound is sickening.
JR:
“That’s what I was talking about. There’s no give. None.”
Jenny doesn’t waste motion. She drags Game Girl upright and delivers a snap DDT directly onto a flat stone slab used for offerings.
Game Girl goes limp for a second.
Jenny rises slowly.
Then Deena tackles her from behind and both slide dangerously close to the edge of the
elevated walkway.
For a split second—
Boot heels hang over open air.
JC gasps audibly.
Jenny claws Deena’s eyes and rolls away just before gravity finishes the match for them. A pele kick takes Deena down.
JC: OLE!
Deena Hixx was barely upright when Jenny Myst and Game Girl turned toward each other at the same time beneath the looming red frame of the Gate of the Gods. The air up there felt thinner, sharper. Fog rolled between the torii pillars and wrapped around their legs like something alive. Deena staggered between them, dazed from the earlier impact on stone, but neither of them cared. Not anymore. The rivalry had boiled past competition, past petty insult, past scoreboard logic. This wasn’t about wins. This was about erasure.
Game Girl struck first, not with flair but with fury. A forearm smashed into Jenny’s jaw with a crack that echoed against cedar and stone. Jenny’s head snapped sideways, and for a split second she smiled through it — not amused, but awakened. She fired back with a palm strike to the throat, driving Game Girl backward into one of the ancient wooden beams supporting the shrine’s upper platform. The impact rattled the structure, loose dust shaking free from the crossbar above them.
JR: “OH! That’s not performance. That’s hatred.”
JC: “Sí, They fight like they want to delete each other.”
Game Girl lunged again, tackling Jenny at the waist, and the two crashed down hard onto the uneven stone walkway. They rolled dangerously close to the edge before Jenny dug her boots in and reversed, climbing on top and raining down sharp, piston-like forearms. No wasted motion. No theatrics. Just punishment. Game Girl bucked violently beneath her, shoving Jenny off and scrambling to her knees. She swung wildly — a hook that clipped Jenny’s cheek — then another that missed completely as her foot slipped on lingering water from the reflecting pool below.
Jenny seized the moment. She hooked Game Girl’s head and drove her face-first into the stone with a vicious snap DDT. The sound was dull and awful, skull meeting rock without canvas to soften it. Game Girl sprawled flat, arms splayed.
But Deena was still breathing.
And Deena was desperate.
She charged through the fog with a guttural scream, launching herself into Jenny with a flying shoulder that took them both down in a heap. Deena mounted Jenny and hammered down fists — not precise, not polished, but raw and relentless. This was her chance. Her opening. Her proof that she belonged in the same air as these two.
Jenny absorbed two blows, then three, before trapping Deena’s arm and rolling her into a sudden triangle choke on the stone. Deena flailed, heel scraping against moss as she tried to break free.
Game Girl rose behind them like a ghost with a respawn timer finally ticking to zero.
She didn’t hesitate.
She sprinted and launched a low, brutal dropkick into Jenny’s ribs, breaking the hold and sending all three bodies scattering across the platform. The torii gate framed the chaos, red against gray sky, as wind whipped their hair across their faces.
They were no longer circling.
They were colliding.
Game Girl grabbed Jenny by the hair and dragged her upright, screaming something about “endgame” and “final boss.” Jenny answered with a headbutt so violent it snapped Game Girl’s nose sideways in a burst of red. Blood sprayed across the stone between them. Game Girl staggered but didn’t fall. She tackled Jenny again, this time driving her backward into Deena, who had just found her footing.
All three went down in a tangled crash.
They rolled, clawing, grabbing, slapping at whatever flesh they could reach. Boots scraped. Elbows cracked against skulls. At one point Jenny’s fingers dug into Game Girl’s mouth while Game Girl clawed at Jenny’s eyes. Deena tried to separate them, only to catch a wild back elbow from Game Girl and a knee from Jenny in the same breath.
JR’s voice was almost laughing in disbelief. “This is feral. This isn’t even structured anymore.”
“No referee can control this,” JC added.
Jenny suddenly shifted her weight and hooked Deena from behind, pulling her up into a brutal snap reverse DDT that spiked Deena’s skull directly onto the flat offering slab. Deena’s body went limp instantly, eyes glassy, arms slack.
But Jenny didn’t have time to capitalize.
Game Girl roared and barreled into her from the side, tackling her so hard both women slid across the stone and nearly collided with one of the guardian statues at the platform’s edge. Game Girl scrambled to her feet first and hit a stiff running knee to Jenny’s face that dropped her flat.
Deena, somehow still twitching on instinct alone, rolled halfway onto her side between them.
That’s when it happened.
Game Girl dove onto Deena, hooking her leg instinctively.
At the exact same moment, Jenny lunged and draped herself across Deena’s upper body, arm hooked over the shoulder.
Both women screamed, “ONE!”
There was no referee.
But they counted anyway.
“TWO!”
JR couldn’t help himself. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“THREE!”
Both Jenny and Game Girl popped up at the same time, adrenaline surging, each pointing at the other with fury.
“I pinned her!”
“No, I did!”
“You were late!”
“You were on the shoulder!”
Deena lay between them unmoving, chest barely rising, utterly spent. It didn’t matter who claimed it. She wasn’t getting up. The mountain had taken her.
But Jenny and Game Girl weren’t finished.
They shoved each other hard enough to echo off the gate.
“You needed me to finish her!”
“You only jumped in because you knew I had it!”
Wind howled through the torii as they squared up again, chests heaving, blood mixing with shrine water on their skin.
Deena Hixx is eliminated.
Deena Hixx lies motionless several yards down the stone platform, eliminated in spirit if not formally counted out, and the only sound for a moment is wind combing through cedar trees and the ragged breathing of two women who would rather break than yield.
Jenny Myst wipes blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand and stares across the slick stone at Game Girl. No smirk now. No wink at a camera. Just heat. Game Girl, nose still leaking from that headbutt, bounces lightly on her toes, eyes wild and bright like she’s loading into sudden death mode.
JR: “Alright, this is it. Forget the triple threat. This is personal. This is two people who legitimately hate each other.”
JC: “Sí, Joe. This is no longer match. This is vendetta.”
Game Girl rushes first, a blur of neon and fury, swinging a forearm that clips Jenny’s jaw and snaps her head sideways. Jenny stumbles back one step—only one—before firing back with a knife-edge chop that cracks across Game Girl’s chest like a gunshot. The sound echoes off stone and wood, bouncing beneath the Gate of the Gods.
JR: “Listen to that! There is no give here. Every strike is amplified.”
Game Girl answers with a spinning backfist that catches Jenny across the cheekbone. Jenny retaliates with a low kick to the thigh, then another, chopping Game Girl’s base down one strike at a time. Game Girl screams and lunges, tackling Jenny at the waist and driving her backward into one of the wooden shrine posts. The entire structure rattles as their bodies slam into it, dust drifting down from the crossbeam above.
They tumble to the ground in a violent sprawl, hands immediately clawing for control. Jenny hooks Game Girl’s arm and rolls, attempting a grounded armbar directly on stone. Game Girl screams as her elbow hyperextends, but instead of tapping she grabs a fistful of Jenny’s hair and yanks her head backward into the rock. The impact stuns Jenny just long enough for Game Girl to slip free and scramble upright.
JR: “That’s desperation. That’s what this rivalry has done to them.”
Game Girl charges and lands a brutal running knee that splits Jenny’s lip fully open. Blood spills freely now, bright against the gray platform. Jenny staggers but doesn’t fall. She grabs Game Girl by the collar and headbutts her again—harder this time. Game Girl reels, nearly losing her footing on moss-slick stone.
They circle, slower now but more vicious.
Jenny suddenly surges forward and connects with a snap suplex that rattles Game Girl’s spine against the slab. Instead of releasing, she floats over into mounted punches, each shot driving Game Girl’s head back against the stone. Game Girl bucks, twisting, managing to trap Jenny’s arm and reverse into a grounded hammerlock that she cranks mercilessly.
JC: “Ay dios. The shoulder is not made for this.”
Game Girl drags Jenny by the arm toward the edge of the platform and smashes her shoulder into the corner of a carved guardian statue. Jenny roars in pain, clutching the limb. Game Girl senses momentum and unleashes a flurry—low kick, high kick, spinning heel kick—each one snapping Jenny’s head around in different directions.
JR: “She’s stringing it together now. She’s feeling it.”
Jenny collapses to one knee. Game Girl backs up, measuring distance like she’s lining up a combo meter.
She sprints.
A flip kick explodes upward under Jenny’s chin, snapping her head back and sending her crashing flat onto the stone. Game Girl lands and rolls fluidly into a raging uppercut that lifts Jenny halfway off the ground before she crashes back down.
JR: “Oh! That’s that video game nonsense!”
Game Girl grabs Jenny by the wrist and yanks her upright, only to slam her down with a vicious down throw, Jenny’s spine bouncing violently off the shrine floor. Game Girl transitions seamlessly into a stomping flurry to the midsection—the so-called Romper Stomper—boots hammering ribs, abdomen, chest in rapid succession.
Jenny curls, gasping.
Game Girl roars, adrenaline surging, and suddenly spins into a Power Geyser-style strike that crashes down across Jenny’s torso, the impact reverberating through the entire platform.
JR: “This is insane! She’s unloading everything!”
Game Girl pulls Jenny up again. Another strike. Another spinning impact. She flows through the sequence with manic precision, shouting button inputs like incantations, each move chaining into the next with frightening speed.
Moon Gravity flip kick.
Raging uppercut.
Grab.
Down throw.
Romper Stomper.
Power Geyser.
Then she grips Jenny by the collar, hooks her arm, and transitions into the final stretch of the ULTRA COMBO—mashing strikes into Jenny’s body before yanking her into a sudden violent face-first slam that spikes her skull against the shrine stone.
Jenny goes still.
Game Girl, chest heaving, throws her head back and screams triumphantly.
JR: “Oh my god. That’s gotta be it. That’s gotta be it!”
JC: “She has executed the entire sequence!”
Game Girl collapses on top of Jenny, hooking the leg deep, pressing her forearm across Jenny’s face in a smug, grinding cover.
“ONE!”
JR slaps the desk instinctively even without a referee present.
“TWO!”
The mountain wind howls.
Game Girl grins, certain.
And that’s when three figures come sprinting out from behind the upper shrine building like they just took a wrong turn on a haunted tour.
Charlie is still wearing a souvenir kimono jacket that says “I Climbed the Gods” in glittery English across the back. Mr. Oz has a tourist map flapping wildly in his hand and what appears to be a half-eaten mochi. Jennie Nickles is dragging behind them, breathless, clutching a selfie stick and muttering something about “the Uber driver said this was a cultural experience.”
JR: “…What the hell?”
JC: “How did they get here?”
As they reach the platform, Charlie yells, “We followed the livestream drone!” Mr. Oz points triumphantly at the sky as if that explains everything. Jennie Nickles tosses the selfie stick aside like she’s about to enter a Royal Rumble.
Game Girl doesn’t even see them coming.
Charlie dives first, tackling her sideways off Jenny at the absolute last second before an imaginary three could land. Mr. Oz follows with a flying forearm that looks more enthusiastic than accurate but still connects with Game Girl’s shoulder. Jennie Nickles launches herself with a surprisingly effective crossbody that sends all four of them crashing into a chaotic pile.
JR: “They just mugged her! They just jumped her!”
JC: “This is ambush!”
Game Girl thrashes wildly, trying to kick free, but three bodies overwhelm her. Charlie rains down wild punches. Mr. Oz shouts directions nobody understands. Jennie Nickles manages to hook Game Girl’s arm and wrench it backward while yelling, “CULTURAL EXCHANGE PROGRAM!”
Jenny, still dazed, slowly rolls onto her side and watches the chaos unfold. Blood drips from her lip. One eye nearly swollen shut. But she smiles again.
JR: “You’ve got to be kidding me. She was done. She was done.”
JC: “But destiny intervenes.”
Game Girl finally breaks loose with a savage back elbow that knocks Mr. Oz flat and a spinning kick that sends Jennie Nickles stumbling into a shrine lantern. She shoves Charlie off and staggers upright, fury radiating from her like heat off asphalt.
But the damage is done.
Jenny is rising.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
JR: “What is that? Do you hear that?”
JC: “That is… not traditional shrine music.”
From somewhere down the winding mountain path, a portable speaker blasts aggressive hardcore entrance music that sounds like it was downloaded illegally in 2004. The volume grows louder. The camera swings toward the lower stairway just in time to see something absurd rounding the bend.
A tourist tram.
Not the elegant kind.
One of those open-air electric shuttle carts used for elderly sightseeing tours.
And driving it?
Scoops McGee.
Wearing a neon press vest, goggles strapped over his forehead, holding a selfie-stick-mounted GoPro like he’s narrating a war documentary.
“WE FOLLOWED THE GEO-TAG, BABY!” he screams into the camera.
In the passenger seat, Dickie Watson clutches the rail with white knuckles, sunglasses askew, scarf flapping wildly in the mountain wind like he thinks he’s in a cologne commercial.
And standing in the back of the moving tram like a pirate captain claiming new land—
Amber Mansley.
Hair whipping. Smirk sharp. Arms spread wide as if she’s conquering Olympus.
JR: “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”
JC: “They took the tourist shuttle.”
The tram jerks to a stop halfway up the incline because Scoops forgets to release the parking brake. Dickie immediately stumbles out, trips over a stone lantern, recovers like nothing happened, and yells, “WE ARE LIVE, PEOPLE!”
Amber steps down far more composed, adjusting her jacket and surveying the battlefield like she just arrived fashionably late to a funeral she planned.
Jenny, still standing over Game Girl’s body after the previous interference, slowly turns toward the commotion.
Game Girl, groggy but alive, sees them and begins to grin.
JR: “Oh no. Oh no. This just escalated.”
Amber claps once, sharp and mocking.
“Well look at this,” she calls out. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you almost lose the final boss battle?”
Game Girl pushes up to her knees, adrenaline surging back into her veins.
Charlie, Mr. Oz, and Jennie Nickles freeze mid-retreat.
Scoops is already narrating into his camera: “HOUSE OF HARDCORE HAS ENTERED THE SHRINE ZONE! CULTURAL IMMERSION ENGAGED!”
Dickie points dramatically at Jenny’s crew. “We came prepared. We brought hydration.”
He pulls a plastic convenience store bag from the tram and hurls a bottled green tea that bounces harmlessly off Mr. Oz’s shoulder.
And then Amber doesn’t waste another second.
She sprints.
Straight at Jenny.
The collision is violent and immediate. Amber tackles Jenny low and drives her into the wooden shrine wall with a thud that rattles hanging prayer charms loose. Game Girl explodes forward at the same time, tackling Charlie into a sideways sprawl across the stone steps.
JR: “We have a full faction brawl on sacred ground!”
JC: “This shrine has never seen this before!”
Scoops McGee dives in—not gracefully—but with enthusiasm, attempting a double axe handle that instead clips Jennie Nickles awkwardly in the shoulder. Dickie Watson throws hands wildly like he learned fighting from watching soap operas.
Jenny and Amber roll across the platform, trading vicious punches. Amber mounts briefly and hammers down forearms, screaming about unfinished business. Jenny bucks her off and drives a knee into Amber’s midsection before slamming her head against one of the torii pillars.
Game Girl and Charlie trade boots in the background, Game Girl hitting a spinning back kick that sends Charlie crashing into a ceremonial drum. The drum rolls down three steps and nearly takes out Scoops, who yells, “This is premium content!”
Mr. Oz and Dickie lock up in what can only be described as confused grappling. Dickie attempts a headlock but slips on moss, dragging both of them down in a tangle of limbs.
JR: “Nobody has footing! Nobody!”
Amber regains control and whips Jenny toward the edge of the platform, but Jenny reverses at the last second and sends Amber shoulder-first into a shrine lantern post that splinters on impact. Amber drops to one knee, winded.
Game Girl breaks away from Charlie and rushes Jenny from behind—but Jennie Nickles leaps onto Game Girl’s back like an over-caffeinated backpack, clawing at her headset mic and yelling, “NO BUFFS!”
Scoops tries to peel Jennie off, only to get clocked by Mr. Oz with a wild spinning elbow that he absolutely did not mean to land.
JR: “This is a riot. This is an absolute riot.”
Amber pulls herself up and charges again, colliding with Jenny at center platform. They exchange brutal strikes—forearm for forearm, knee for knee—while behind them, their factions descend into a mess of slipping, shouting, half-coordinated chaos.
Dickie attempts a dramatic flying clothesline off a step but overshoots and lands flat on his back. Scoops helps him up while still narrating into the GoPro, breathless and exhilarated.
Game Girl finally shoves Jennie Nickles off and lands a stiff kick to Charlie’s ribs, but Mr. Oz blindsides her with a surprisingly effective running shoulder that sends her sliding across the stone.
Amber grabs Jenny’s hair again, screaming something about loyalty and dominance, but Jenny counters with a savage headbutt and a short-arm lariat that turns Amber inside out.
JR: “These two factions are not stopping.”
JC: “The mountain is shaking.”
Bodies are everywhere now. On steps. Against pillars.
The shrine platform is pure anarchy now—boots slipping, bodies colliding, prayer charms scattered like confetti from a blasphemous parade. The tourist tram continues to creep backward down the incline behind them, its hazard lights blinking uselessly while Scoops McGee tries to shout updates into his GoPro and throw hands at the same time.
He doesn’t see Jenny coming.
She turns from Amber’s last failed strike and moves with zero hesitation. Scoops steps forward, chest puffed, yelling something about exclusive coverage—
Jenny drives her knee straight upward.
Dead center.
Scoops’ voice cuts off in a strangled gasp as he folds in half, GoPro tumbling from his hand and clattering across stone. He drops to both knees, eyes wide, hands cupping himself like he’s trying to hold his entire lineage together.
JR: “Ohhhhh! That was direct! That was immediate regret!”
JC: “That man will not have descendants!”
Dickie Watson rushes in indignantly, scarf flapping, arms windmilling in dramatic fury. He swings wild—Jenny doesn’t even flinch. She sidesteps, plants her palm across his face in a vicious open-handed slap that echoes under the torii gate, and shoves him backward. Dickie spins, stumbles, and collapses onto Scoops in a heap of injured pride and poor decisions.
JR: “She just swatted him like a mosquito.”
Jenny exhales once, sharp.
And then she sees Amber.
Amber Mansley is pushing herself upright, fury etched across her face, hair wild from the collision with the lantern post. She wipes blood from her mouth and locks eyes with Jenny. No theatrics. No speeches.
They charge simultaneously.
Amber swings first—Jenny ducks beneath it and hooks Amber’s arm, pivoting on her heel with predatory precision. She drags Amber in close, twisting her body backward into position.
JR’s voice drops low. “Oh no…”
Jenny plants her feet on the slick stone and pulls Amber forward and down into the most violent Pink Perfection the shrine has ever witnessed. The Sister Abigail-style spin isn’t graceful—it’s brutal. Jenny whips Amber’s head and upper body around with vicious torque and spikes her face-first into the unforgiving slab beneath the Gate of the Gods.
The sound is sickening.
Amber’s body crumples instantly, limbs limp, eyes unfocused.
Silence hits for a half-second.
JR: “That’s it. She’s out. She’s completely out.”
JC: “That was execution.”
Jenny doesn’t even look back at Scoops groaning on the ground or Dickie clutching his jaw. Amber lies motionless at her feet, knocked clean into stillness.
Then Jenny lifts her head.
Across the platform, Game Girl has just muscled her way through Charlie, shoving him hard into one of the shrine drums before catching him with a stiff spinning kick that drops him flat. Jennie Nickles scrambles away. Mr. Oz is tangled with Dickie and Scoops in a confused pile of limbs.
Game Girl stands tall now, breathing heavy, chest rising and falling, eyes blazing with triumph.
She sees Amber down.
She sees Jenny standing.
JR: “Oh. Oh this just changed.”
Game Girl wipes blood from her nose and smirks, adrenaline roaring through her veins. She spreads her arms slightly as if to say, “Round two.”
Jenny steps forward slowly, boots deliberate on wet stone. No smile this time. No flourish. Just a predator locking onto its target.
Wind whips through the torii again, snapping loose prayer ribbons against wood. Amber lies out cold between them. Scoops groans somewhere in the background. Dickie crawls away in dazed embarrassment.
Game Girl cracks her neck.
Jenny rolls her shoulders.
JR: “This is what it was always going to be. Strip everything else away. Just these two.”
JC: “The shrine becomes their ring.”
The wind howls again beneath the Gate of the Gods, snapping loose paper charms against ancient wood as Jenny Myst and Game Girl square off for what feels like the inevitable end. Around them, bodies are strewn across the shrine platform—Scoops groaning in falsetto agony, Dickie crawling in circles, Amber Mansley unconscious near the torii post, Charlie and the rest of Jenny’s crew trying to recover.
But none of that matters.
Game Girl steps forward first, jaw clenched, eyes locked on Jenny like she’s about to finish what the ULTRA COMBO started. Her breathing is heavy, her nose still leaking, but she looks feral. Focused. She points at Jenny and mouths something about “no interruptions this time.”
JR: “This is it. No factions. No interference. Just them.”
JC: “This is destiny moment.”
Game Girl lunges—
And out of absolutely nowhere—
Deena Hixx explodes into frame like a human missile.
Nobody sees her coming.
Not the camera.
Not JR.
Not even Jenny.
Deena, who everyone assumed was finished, eliminated, discarded by the mountain—comes screaming in from the side and dives low, both arms hooking Game Girl’s leg.
CHOP BLOCK.
Game Girl’s knee buckles violently sideways.
The sound is sharp and wrong.
Game Girl collapses instantly, shrieking as she grabs her knee and rolls onto her side.
JR: “OH MY GOD! Where did she come from?!”
JC: “Deena! Deena last stand!”
Deena doesn’t stay to fight. She doesn’t posture. She doesn’t even look at Jenny.
She scrambles upright on instinct, adrenaline burning through her like she’s running on fumes. She stumbles backward, nearly slipping on the moss-covered edge of the platform—and then loses her footing completely.
Her boot slides.
Her balance goes.
Deena tumbles backward down the mountain steps, rolling awkwardly down the incline, clutching her own shoulder and screaming as she disappears through fog and cedar branches below.
JR: “She just rolled down the damn mountain!”
JC: “That is sacrifice!”
Game Girl is still on the stone, clutching her knee, eyes wide with fury and disbelief.
Jenny blinks once.
Then she understands.
And she moves.
She lunges forward before Game Girl can fully recover, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her upright despite the damaged leg. Game Girl swings wildly in desperation, but her base is gone—she can’t plant, can’t pivot, can’t generate power.
Jenny hooks the arm.
Pulls her in close.
Spins.
And drills her with Pink Perfection—the most violent Sister Abigail of the night—snapping Game Girl’s head and torso downward into the unforgiving shrine slab.
The impact echoes under the torii.
Game Girl goes limp.
Jenny doesn’t hesitate. She collapses on top, hooking the far leg tight.
JR slams the desk. “No. No way.”
“ONE!”
JC’s voice cracks. “Uno!”
“ TWO!”
JR is already shouting. “She stole this! She stole it!”
“THREE!”
Winner and ADVANCING - Jenny Myst
Silence.
Just wind.
Jenny rolls off slowly, chest heaving, blood streaked across her face, eyes glassy but triumphant.
Game Girl lies flat on her back, knee twisted awkwardly, chest barely rising.
JR: “That is highway robbery. She had nothing left. She was done. Deena chop-blocks her and rolls off the damn mountain and Jenny capitalizes.”
JC: “It is opportunist victory.”
JR shakes his head audibly. “Game Girl was about to finish her. We all saw it. She had the combo. She had the momentum. And Jenny just—she took it. She took it.”
Jenny rises slowly beneath the Gate of the Gods. Amber unconscious. Game Girl flattened.
Deena vanished somewhere down the slope.
The shrine wind whips through her hair as she lifts her chin and looks out over the mountain horizon.
JR’s voice lowers, half stunned, half impressed.
“Love her or hate her… she survived. And she is moving on. But she goddamn stole it.”
JC murmurs softly, “In House of Hardcore… survival is everything.”
Jenny Myst stands alone under the torii gate as fog swallows the fallen.
Jenny stands over Game Girl’s body, chest rising and falling in sharp bursts, blood streaked across her lip and down her chin. The wind pulls strands of blonde hair across her face as Game Girl lies flat on the stone, knee twisted awkwardly, eyes unfocused.
JR: “She knows she stole it. You can see it on her face.”
JC: “But she does not care.”
Jenny slowly bends down.
Not to help.
Not to check.
She grabs a fistful of Game Girl’s neon hair and lifts her head just enough so she can look into her eyes.
“Should’ve protected the knee,” she whispers — calm, cruel, deliberate.
She lets her head drop back to the stone with a dull knock.
JR: “That’s unnecessary.”
Jenny wipes Game Girl’s blood across her own cheek like war paint.
Then she plants her boot on Game Girl’s chest.
Full weight.
Pressing down just enough to remind everyone watching who is standing and who is not.
JC: “That is dominance.”
Jenny looks out past the torii gate, past the fallen bodies of Amber, Scoops, Dickie. She spreads her arms slowly — not celebratory, not theatrical — but claiming the summit like she conquered it.
Then she kneels beside Game Girl again.
Leans down close to her ear.
“GAME OVER”.
“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 coliseum.
"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 coliseum. 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.
JC: The crowd is going nuts for The Impossible Traveler! Perennial fan-favorite, Betsy Granger drew a tough matchup for round 1: but good luck telling her that! She’s as confident as ever!
JR: I think Sebastian might be pumping her full of confidence every night!
JC: Disgusting. Don’t even say that about Betsy, ya creep.
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 not3##
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#
JR: And here comes Apathy! A newcomer to the XWF, but not a newcomer to wrestling! She’s built a name for herself in federations across the world, and now, she’s looking to pull off a major upset tonight en route to her first March Madness victory!
JC: They may call her Apathy, but she looks locked and loaded, and completely ready for tonight’s battle! To our fans watching at home who don’t know much about her: I promise you this much, you’re gonna learn what a badass woman looks like by the end of this one!
The lights die without warning. Not a fade, but a full blackout that sucks the air out of the arena like the calm before a fire. Then, a strobing light, lime green, flares beneath the metal of the floor. Another, quicker and sharper. A third, holding longer now. Long enough for the crowd to catch a glimpse of the static forming on the screen overhead.
The distorted bass of “DEATHLIST” by Code: Pandorum and GHØSTKID blares across the arena’s speaker system low, grinding and industrial. It doesn't start like music, but more like a warning. Like the hum of something broken beneath concrete.The speakers rattle, and with them the crowd begins to stir as the opening continues to play, rhythmic and angry. Noise from the crowd rolls through like a cold draft in a sealed room, a few cheers, a few chants. But mostly unease.
"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?
Can I trust you without failing you?
Gonna tell you what the secret is...
You're number one on my DEATHLIST."
Whispered, the lyric doesn't rise above the crowd but cuts under it, precise and personal. The music drops out completely, not a fade, and not a glitch, just the same as the lights as they die out entirely. But then, detonation as the bass slams back in without warning, twisted and violent, louder than before. Strobe lights erupt in a manic wash of toxic green, casting sharp, flickering shadows across the sate. It's disorienting, like a spotlight wielded as a weapon. Motionless in that moment, Dickie Watson stands framed in light. No grand pose, no war cry, hair falling in his face and shoulders loose like man who doesn't need to prove he belongs here -- he already knows he does.
He holds this, eyes floating over everyone, and then moves a beat later. Not with urgency, not with showmanship. Just steps forward like the rest of the world is moving slower than him. He doesn't look to the sides, doesn't soak it in. He's not here for the moment, he's here for the thrill. Every movement is precise, like a blade being unsheathed. Quiet, measured. He walks down the ramp towards the coliseum, eyes still glancing off to the side, turning his head slightly to acknowledge fans and enemies alike. At the barricade, he reaches out and slaps a few hands not necessarily out of respect, but more of obligation. These are the people who kept him alive for so long, and what he does this for.
He circles the battle area once, loose-limbed, cracking his neck slightly, and stops. Near the far corner, he crouches with his elbows on his knees, fingers dangling inbetween as his music fades.
JC: And here comes the former Universal Champion and War Games Sole Survivor- DICKIE WATSON!
JR: You know, you don’t have to call him that. He said he preferes to just be called ‘Dickie’!
JC: Well no matter you call him, he’s one of the best in the industry. He wants to get that Universal Championship back- and that journey starts right here, right now!
Lakeside Coliseum
ROUND ONE
Dickie Watson
- vs -
Apathy
- vs -
Betsy Granger Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO
Stage Hazard - WATER!
The story is the stage.
A wide platform stretches out from the entranceway like a pier. It’s slick, glossy, and too close to the black, rippling water that hugs the arena’s edge like it’s waiting for a sacrifice. Floodlights reflect off the surface in broken shards, and every time the wind kicks up, the water hisses against the retaining wall.
No safety rails. No mercy.
JR (Joe Rogan): Alright—see that? That’s water. That’s not a “fun hazard.” That’s drowning-adjacent.
JC: It’s the lake, Joe. It’s purification. Or punishment.
JR: It’s hypothermia is what it is.
All three competitors are already on the stage when the bell rings—because the ring is optional, and survival isn’t.
Apathy stands motionless, posture loose like a woman waiting for the world to end.
Betsy Granger is coiled and furious, pacing the edge as if she wants to throw hands with the lake itself.
Dickie Watson adjusts his sleeves, checks his footing, and looks out over the water like he’s trying to remember whether he knows how to swim.
JR: Dickie’s looking at that water like it owes him money.
JC: Or like he’s about to sue it.
DING DING DING!
No one rushes.
Then Betsy does.
She darts straight at Dickie, cracking him with a forearm that pops loud over the open air. Dickie stumbles back two steps, boots skidding on the damp surface.
Apathy doesn’t move.
She just watches.
Betsy snaps another forearm into Dickie’s jaw and follows with a short, brutal kick to the thigh. Dickie’s leg buckles slightly, and Betsy tries to grab him by the collar—
Dickie rips free, swings a wild backhand, and Betsy ducks it easily, grinning like she’s already figured out the rhythm of his panic.
Apathy finally drifts forward—slow, deliberate—like a shadow deciding to become a person.
She reaches for Betsy’s shoulder.
Betsy spins and blasts her with a back elbow that catches her square in the face.
Apathy doesn’t fall.
She just turns his head back into place like it annoyed him.
JR: That is unsettling. That’s not normal.
JC: Apathy doesn’t react to pain the way other people do. She reacts to inconvenience.
Dickie sees the opening and lunges, grabbing Apathy around the waist and driving her back toward the edge—
But Apathy plants her feet.
She anchors.
Then she grabs Dickie’s head with both hands and shoves him forward, hard—sending Dickie stumbling right into Betsy’s path.
Betsy boots Dickie in the stomach and snaps him down with a sharp front facelock takedown onto the stage. Dickie hits flat, the impact echoing like the platform is hollow.
Betsy covers—more instinct than strategy.
ONE!
Apathy’s boot stomps down on Betsy’s back and crushes the pin attempt before it becomes anything.
Betsy snarls and rolls away, clutching her ribs, and Apathy drops to one knee beside Dickie and just… stares.
Dickie tries to sit up.
Apathy palms his forehead and shoves him down again, slow, casual, humiliating.
JR: Apathy’s not even hitting him. She’s just… putting him where he wants him.
JC: That is control. That is domination without effort.
Betsy charges Apathy and swings—Apathy slips it without urgency and catches her wrist. She twists, bending Betsy forward, and drags her toward the water’s edge like he’s taking out the trash.
Betsy digs her boots in and fights the pull, but the surface is slick. Her heel skids.
For a split second, Betsy’s balance goes.
Dickie springs up behind them and shoves both bodies—a desperate shove—trying to send them tumbling.
Instead, Apathy lets Betsy go.
Betsy stumbles forward… barely catching herself.
Apathy turns with the shove and looks at Dickie.
It’s not anger.
It’s decision.
Apathy walks at Dickie and begins clubbing him with short, heavy forearms—thud, thud, thud—driving him backward.
Dickie throws a sloppy jab—Apathy eats it.
Dickie throws another—Apathy absorbs it, then grabs Dickie’s arm and yanks him into a crushing headbutt.
Dickie collapses to one knee, dazed.
Betsy sees the shift and sprints, dropkicking Apathy in the spine.
Apathy lurches forward.
Betsy hooks her immediately, trying to hoist—
Apathy deadweights.
Betsy strains, teeth bared, and still gets her half-lifted—
Dickie staggers up and hits Betsy with a running forearm that clips her cheekbone and turns her sideways.
Betsy drops Apathy.
Apathy doesn’t fall.
She pivots and shoves Dickie hard—sending him sliding toward the water.
Dickie windmills his arms, boots scraping, fighting to stop.
He does—barely—right at the edge.
The water slaps below.
A hush ripples through the crowd.
JR: That was almost it. One slip and they’re swimming with the ghosts.
JC: Or becoming one.
Betsy grabs Apathy from behind and tries to throw her—
Apathy finally snaps.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
She grabs Betsy’s arm, pivots, and launches her with a savage hip toss.
Betsy hits the stage and slides—straight toward the edge.
She claws at the surface, fingers squealing against wet material, stopping inches short of the drop.
Dickie sees it and pounces—trying to stomp Betsy’s hand.
Betsy yanks it away and kicks Dickie in the shin, sending him stumbling.
Apathy steps forward behind Dickie and wraps him in a rear waistlock.
For a moment, it looks like Apathy is going to suplex Dickie into the water.
Dickie panics, grabbing at Apathy’s fingers, peeling them loose—
Betsy surges up and SMASHES Apathy with a running knee to the side of the head.
Apathy’s grip breaks.
Dickie spins, grabs Apathy by the arm, and with pure survival instinct—
He and Betsy both shove.
Apathy slides.
Her boots skid.
Her heel catches nothing.
And Apathy drops off the stage into the lake.
A splash detonates under the lights, water erupting in a violent burst.
For half a second, you can’t see her.
JR: OH! She’s in! She’s in the damn lake!
JC: The hazard has claimed its first.
Apathy surfaces—slow—hair plastered, hood gone, eyes blank as the water streams off her face.
She reaches for the stage edge.
Security and officials are already moving, shouting, arms out—
Apathy tries to pull up, but her hand slips on the wet ledge.
She drops back under, resurfaces again, and just… floats, staring.
The referee leans out from the stage with frantic signals.
RING OUT!
Apathy is eliminated.
JR: That counts! That’s a ring out! He’s gone!
JC: He returned to the lake like it called him home.
JR: Or like gravity called him home, which is still my point.
And now—
It’s just Betsy Granger and Dickie Watson on a stage slicker than sin, with water waiting below like a mouth.
They both stand there breathing hard, staring at each other.
Betsy wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist and laughs once—sharp.
Dickie adjusts his sleeves again.
Not because it helps.
Because it calms him.
JR: Alright, now this becomes a fight-fight.
JC: No shadows now. Only pride.
Betsy rushes first—forearm to Dickie’s jaw, then a second that snaps his head sideways. Dickie fires back with a desperate chop that cracks across Betsy’s chest.
Betsy doesn’t flinch.
She answers with a kick to the ribs and whips Dickie by the wrist—trying to sling him off the edge.
Dickie plants his feet and yanks back, pulling Betsy in—
Betsy ducks under and catches Dickie with a spinning back elbow that drops him to a knee.
Betsy grabs a fistful of hair and drags him toward the edge.
Dickie scrapes at her wrist, boots sliding, trying to find traction.
Betsy shoves.
Dickie’s heel hits the lip.
The crowd rises.
Dickie throws his arms out, catches the edge post with both hands, and holds on like his life depends on it.
Because it does.
Betsy stomps his fingers.
Dickie yelps and almost slips—
But he swings his legs up and kicks Betsy in the knee, knocking her backward.
Dickie hauls himself back onto the stage, soaked with sweat and fear.
He charges Betsy with a wild lariat—
Betsy ducks it and catches him with a snap German suplex right onto the platform.
Dickie bounces.
Betsy covers.
ONE!
TWO—!
Dickie kicks out hard, shoulder popping off the stage.
JR: That was close! That was the match!
JC: Betsy smelled blood and almost ended the story.
Betsy hauls Dickie up and cracks him with a palm strike, then another, then a headbutt.
Dickie staggers, eyes glassy.
Betsy whips him toward a stage truss—
Dickie reverses at the last second, sending Betsy instead.
Betsy stops short, turns back—
Dickie hits her with a running knee that drops her to both knees.
Dickie falls on her for a cover.
ONE!
TWO—!
Betsy powers out, snarling, shoving him off like he’s insulting her.
They rise at the same time, foreheads nearly touching, and start trading strikes in the ugliest way possible—no finesse, no rhythm, just rage.
Betsy lands a chop.
Dickie lands one back.
Betsy slaps him.
Dickie shoves her.
Betsy spits at his feet.
Dickie’s eyes widen like he can’t believe she’d do that.
Then he SMACKS her with a forearm that finally rocks her backward.
Betsy stumbles—toward the edge.
Dickie sees it.
And something changes.
Not courage.
Calculation.
He lunges, grabs Betsy by the waist, and drives forward—boots skidding, both of them sliding like they’re on ice.
Betsy hooks an arm around Dickie’s neck, trying to guillotine him as they slide.
Dickie keeps driving anyway.
They hit the lip.
Betsy’s eyes flash wide.
She tries to twist out—
Dickie heaves.
With one violent surge, Dickie Watson THROWS Betsy Granger off the stage.
Betsy disappears over the edge—
And the lake explodes.
A massive splash erupts under the floodlights. Water sprays up onto the stage, misting Dickie’s face.
Dickie staggers back from the edge, chest heaving, staring down like he can’t believe he just did it.
JR: OH MY GOD! HE THREW HER OFF!
JC: The lake has taken another.
Betsy surfaces fast—furious—thrashing toward the edge.
She reaches up.
Her fingers touch the stage lip.
The referee is already shouting, arms crossing.
RING OUT!
Betsy is eliminated.
Winner and ADVANCING - Dickie Watson
She pounds the retaining wall in rage as officials reach down to help her out of the water.
Dickie backs away from the edge, soaked in adrenaline, eyes wide, breathing like he just ran a marathon uphill.
No pin.
No submission.
Just the simplest rule in the world:
If you fall… you lose.
JR: That’s it. That’s the match. You can call it cowardly, you can call it smart—he understood the environment and he used it.
JC: It is victory by geography.
Dickie Watson raises one arm—more disbelief than celebration—while the lake churns below and Betsy screams from the waterline, promising revenge through clenched teeth.
JC: And here we are! After seven hellacious matches, we’re down to our final first round March Madness match-up!
JR: And this one ain’t like the others, Jacuinde! This one’s got the big one on the line! The Universal title!
JC: The Trillionaires announced March Madness and explained that, as Kieran King, the current Universal champion, declared himself competing to go for a three-peat… that in every round Kieran was competing in, he would be defending his Universal title!
JR: Absolutely insane! And he drew two of the hungriest opponents to vie for wrestling’s top prize! This one is gonna be insane!
The camera pans over the City of Water[/b\, Venice herself! A beautiful utopian marketplace, beside a bridge without railing on one side... The sky is shining and the city almost feels alive with the buzz of its people!
JC: In its halcyon years during the Renaissance era, Venice monopolized all trade and brought northeastern Italy under its political control.
JR: Hey Jacuinde? Our fans don’t watch the history channel, let’s keep it focused on how hard the surfaces are these guys will be bouncing each other’s head off of.
[b]”Mythmaking has no regulations beyond those imposed by the human mind!”
Civilization is a comfort to those who live comfortably. Battle is a refuge for those who know such illusions can vanish in an instant!
The lights go out. Fire surrounds the stage. The X-Tron flickers to life. A heartbeat monitor flatlines. Beep.
“Antivist” by Bring Me The Horizon blasts throughout the arena. The X-Tron features key moments from his career, namely making people eat finishers and kendo sticks.
MIDDLE FINGERS UP, IF YOU DON’T GIVE A FUCK!
Solomon Kline appears on stage on his blue Harley Davidson motorcycle! Flames rise up all around him. He rides his bike down the ramp and the flames subside, replaced by snow-like pyro raining down from the ceiling. He rides his bike to the center of the city and goes around to each side, raising his middle fingers as the song lyrics denote and encouraging the crowd to join in and sing along with his gesture!
JC: Solomon Kline is back! After being ambushed by, what turned out, was his own family in the Corporation, we weren’t sure Kline would ever step back into the ring after that vicious assault!
JR: But Kline came back stronger! More focused and on a mission for revenge! And lemme tell you something, Jacuinde! If Kline wins the Universal title tonight? He ain’t gonna need to hunt the Corporation down one by one… They’ll line up to try and take that belt, which is exactly what Kline wants! The Corporation within his reach!
JC: It would certainly aid his mission! And it would be an insane way to return to the XWF, winning the Uni in your first match back! But… can he do it?
IF YOU REALLY BELIEVE IN THE WORDS THAT YOU PREACH
GET OFF YOUR SCREENS AND ONTO THE STREETS! THERE WILL BE NO PEACEFUL REVOLUTION!
NO WAR WITHOUT BLOOD!
Solomon ascends a marketstand and looks around the city, taking in the cheers of the crowd before dropping down awaiting the start of the match.
…
Centurion emerges from a building to the city square, receiving a raucous ovation from the Venetians, nodding in thanks as he makes his way to the center of the city.
JC: XWF Legend! TV champion! And one of the most beloved competitors in the XWF… Centurion!
JR: It’s a crock and a sham, Jacuinde! Centurion promised! He SWORE! That after losing to Shawn Warstein, he would NEVER compete for the Universal title again!
JC: The Wheel of Fate has decided to gift Centurion with this opportunity! And you can see it in his eyes… He knows these chances don’t come around for everybody… You can see he’s gonna push himself to his absolute limit to make the most of what might be his last chance for the Universal title!
…
The first, frenetic strums of Faith No More's "Gentle Art of Making Enemies" rips through the city as strobes of gold and white cast across the market and its people. After several moments, and then a few more for good measure, Kieran King eventually saunters onto the stage, smugly mugging for the audience!
JR: There he is, Jacuinde! The TWO-time King of the XWF! The THREE-time Universal champion! The GOAT! Hands down! Kieran King!
JC: Kieran King found a way to recover his Universal championship at Snow Pain, Snow Gain… After Scoops McGee eliminated the Universal champion, Dickie Watson AND Charlie Nickles… it took everything Kieran had… and a kick to the balls… to pull the win out over Scoops! But, he did secure the win! However, this tournament may be the stiffest challenge in XWF History! Four back-to-back rounds of Universal title defenses!
JR: If anyone can do it, though, Jacuinde! It’s the Greatest of All Time! KIERAN KING!
In a flash, he sprints towards the city square, Keeping his momentum going, King darts towards the a stakk and leaps towards the top. He crouches, and throws his arms up and back as if to backflip off the top... only to pull out at the last minute. He laughs at the crowd, mocking them as he settles in to some pre-fight stretches.
…
The bells of Venice toll faintly in the distance as three men stand ankle-to-ankle on slick marble, the canal water lapping just feet away.
No ropes.
No corners.
Just stone… and destiny.
Centurion’s jaw tightens first. His eyes narrow, calculating, measuring distances between bridges, stalls, and canal edges. His shoulders roll as if loosening ancient hinges. He steps forward cautiously, boots scraping stone.
Kieran King smirks in response, rolling his neck lazily, tapping his own temple with two fingers as if to say I’m three moves ahead. He flicks imaginary dust from Centurion’s chest and gestures for him to come on.
Solomon Kline’s nostrils flare.
His fingers twitch at his sides. Youthful impatience. His jaw flexes as he glances from King… to Cent… to the open water behind them. His shoulders dip.
Jacuinde Castillo: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are not in an arena. We are in the City of Water. Falls count anywhere. Ring outs are possible. Knockouts are possible. And if Kieran King is eliminated… we crown a new Universal Champion!”
Joe Rogan: “This is insane. One bad step and you’re swimming with gondolas.”
“In a city built upon fragile foundations, three warriors test the strength of their resolve!”
The moment the bell rings, Kline explodes first from the starting block!
JC: Kline not wasting this opportunity! The man once known as ‘Psycho’ Solomon, refusing not to control this match from the get-go!
JR: This is Kline’s first Universal title shot in his career! There’s not a world… Or should I say, UNIVERSE, where he’s letting this opportunity slip from not being aggressive enough!
Kline darts between his opponents, sprinting in a tight arc across the cobblestones.
Centurion’s brow lifts in mild surprise, pivoting slower than he once could.
King’s grin fades into irritation as Kline rebounds off a stone railing—
—Dropkick to King’s ribs!
King stumbles back into a wooden mooring post, air forced from his lungs.
JC: Oh! He’s fast! He’s faster than both of them!
JR: Nobody’s faster than Kieran King! Kline just… caught him by surprise is all!
As King staggers backwards, falling to one knee, Kline lands and spins, face intense, and breaks into another sprint!
Centurion braces, feet wide, raising his guard for a dropkick!
Kline leaps —
—Hurricanrana on Centurion!
Centurion flips over and lands hard on the marble, shoulder slamming against the stone.
JC: Wow! Incredible work by Kline, bypassing a veteran like Cent’s guard!
Kline pops to his feet, adrenaline surging, eyes wild. He rushes King, catching him on the back foot!
Repeated kicks in the corner of a stone archway — shin cracking against ribs — again — again — again — until King drops seated against ancient Venetian brick.
Kline backs up, chest heaving, then charges—
—Running knee to King’s jaw against the wall!
King slumps sideways.
JC: I don’t think anyone could have predicted this start! It’s been all Kline in the early-going!
“The cub bares his fangs against seasoned beasts!”
JR: Oh, shuddup, God!
[/b]
Kline turns, fueled by momentum, and grabs Centurion by the scruff of the neck!
Monkey Toss across the cobblestones!
Centurion rolls through, somersaulting a counter to keep his footing, but he is slower rising now.
Kline’s face twists into defiant pride. He throws his arms wide — daring them both to advance!
Centurion exhales slowly through his nose.
The pride in Kline’s posture registers.
As Kline charges again, Centurion sidesteps with veteran economy of motion.
Kline’s eyes widen mid-step—
Centurion snatches the arm.
Armbar attempt — quick and tight.
JC: Oh! And Cent catches Kline!
JR: Kline’s been floating like a butterfly, but Cent’s about to pin him to the wall and rip his wings off!
Kline grimaces, teeth bared, trying to yank free.
Centurion rolls through, transitions—
Saito Suplex!
Kline’s back SLAMS against the cobblestones, the crack echoing off Renaissance facades.
Kline’s face contorts in pain, breath gone.
Centurion, sensing opportunity, hauls him up — jaw clenched now — and hooks him for a back suplex.
Kline pounds at Centurion’s ribs in panic.
Centurion ignores it.
Back Suplex.
Kline is driven spine-first into the uneven Venetian street!
The thud is sickening.
JC: That’s not a mat! That’s stone! That changes everything!
JR: Just like the apron is the hardest part of the ring, the street is the hardest part of the city, Jacuinde!
Kline rolls, clutching his lower back, eyes glassy.
As Cent scoops Kline by the scruff of his neck off the granite walkways of the City’s marketplace…
Kieran King pushes off the wall, wiping blood from the corner of his lip!
JR: Uh oh! I think Kieran’s picking his moment to take out Cent!
King drops his shoulder, looking for a chop block to take out Cent’s calf!
…But Cent, like he’s got eyes in the back of his head, leaps over King’s attack, release Kline in the process!
King keeps himself on his feet, but spins, not giving Cent an opening to strike him from behind in return!
JR: How did Cent see that one coming?
JC: Over two decades in the game and your senses are keen! Finely tuned! Cent’s been pearl harbored so many times, I bet he’d recognize the sound of someone going for a chop block blindfolded and wearing noise-canceling headphones!
Centurion’s feet hit the ground… He glares at Kieran…
Kieran half-smirks cockily…
JC: No love lost between these two competitors! They both represent the old guard of the XWF, many many years in the wrestling world!
[b]But there’s only space for one name in the tales of a battle between two warriors!
They circle.
King feints a kick.
Centurion doesn’t bite.
King lunges — Buzzsaw Kick attempt —
Centurion ducks.
Standing Dropkick from Centurion!
King staggers back toward the canal’s edge, windmilling to avoid falling in!
JR: Wow! That close call makes you realize how precarious this environment is! Could you imagine the UNIVERSAL TITLE changing hands via slip and fall?!?
JC: Imagine it? Joe, we almost just witnessed it!
King’s expression flashes from cocky to alarmed — just briefly.
He steps in again, quicker now, spinning, going for a backfist!
Cent ducks under, grabs Kieran from behind!
Release back suplex!
…
But Kieran lands on his feet! And nimbly leaps backwards the moment his feet touch the ground!
PELE KICK!
Centurion’s head snaps sideways!
JR: Wow! That right there is athleticism! That’s shit you normally only see in video games!
JC: Kieran King is one of the best in XWF History! And March Madness brings a whole other gear out of him!
[/b]
Kieran grabs Cent in a wristlock…
He boots Cent backwards with a kick to the chest… But clings onto his arm!
He pulls him in for a… LARIAT!
…But Cent ducks under! Puts the brakes on, spins around at the same time Kieran does!
V-Trigger Knee!
…But King raises his guard, absorbing it, stumbling but staying upright and on his feet!
Behind them, Solomon Kline pulls himself up using a merchant’s wooden stall.
His face is twisted with pain… but burning with fury.
He climbs.
They both go for a collar and elbow!
Arm drag from King!
Cent rolls through and stays gripped into Kieran’s wrist!
Arm drag from Centurion!
Kieran rolls through and keeps the grip! He yanks Cent forward, looking for a…
Slingblade!
But Cent rotates in a circle, keeping his back from slamming onto the street!
JR: Holy COW! They’re trading counter for counter, move for move! Neither guy giving the other even a fraction of breathing room!
Kieran swings a wild elbow!
Cent ducks! Secures a waist lock!
Going for…
Release German Suplex!
…But King flips out and lands on his feet behind him!
They lock up again.
As Kline balances atop crates of fruit.
His chest rises and falls.
JC: Cent and King are locked in on each other! They don’t see Kline going up top to risk it all!
JR: Never take your eyes off the Psycho!
Kline leaps.
Backflip.
He crashes down onto BOTH men with a crossbody!
All three bodies slam to stone.
The stall collapses behind him.
JR: OH MY GOD!
JC: What a maneuver!
[b]“From the heavens he descends, defying fate itself!”
JC: Folks, this match is one fall to a finish! Whoever gets the first pinfall or submission, regardless of if the third man is still in it… He’s moving onto the next round!
JR: And will leave with the Universal title!
Kline dives onto Centurion—
Hooks the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-Centurion kicks out!
Kline’s eyes go wide in disbelief.
JC: Kline almost stole it! He almost picked his spot and won the Universal Championship!
JR: Close ain’t do nothing to that belt’s ownership, Jacuinde! Ya gotta get one and two, but nothing matters until the three-count!
[/b]
Kline pulls Cent off the concrete, pulling him into position for Dust to Dust! (Vertebreaker)
But, Kieran King rolls to his knees, rage simmering.
He lunges at Kline.
Kline springs up to meet him.
JC: Uh oh! King, I think for the first time this match, appreciates the unique threat Solomon Kline presents to his chances of three-peating!
Kline and King meet, eagerly trading rapid strikes —
Forearm from Kline! Connects!
Roundhouse attempt from King — dodged!
Ashes to Ashes from Kline — Ducked and slipped under!
King sprints forward, shoves off a nearby wall, and builds speed!
Shotgun Dropkick from King!
Kline skids across marble, somersaulting backwards onto his back…
JR: Ouch! Ain’t nobody getting up from a dropkick like that!
Kline kips up out of pure defiance.
JC: Apparently ain’t nobody else in the world like Solomon Kline!
King charges in, eagerly to put the young buck down!
…But Kline turns sideways… and launches a…
Superkick!
NO! King ducks.
They both spin to face each other!
King steps in! Kline goes for the lock-up!
But Kieran hits him with a Boot to the stomach.
Kline doubles over.
King grabs him around the waist.
Powerbomb lift—
He wants to drive him into the cobblestones.
Kline’s eyes flash with panic — then instinct.
He shifts his weight mid-air.
Hurricanrana!
JC: What a counter by Kline!
King flips forward—
Kline holds the legs tight!
ONE!
TWO—
Kieran King kicks out.
Both men roll away, scrambling to their knees.
The water sloshes against stone just feet away.
King and Kline rise at the same time — eyes locked — chests heaving…
JC: They’re fighting right on the edge of the canal!
Joe Rogan: “One mistake and that’s it — ring out!
Duel at the Edge
King takes a half-step forward, shoulders loose, confidence masking the flicker of caution in his gaze as he glances briefly at the water behind Kline.
Kline sees it.
His nostrils flare.
He steps in first.
King swings a spinning backfist — fast, sharp, meant to rattle teeth loose.
But Kline ducks under it.
His boot fires upward into Kieran’s stomach.
The impact folds King slightly, air forced from his lungs.
Kline doesn’t hesitate, teeth clenched as he hooks King’s arms and pulls him in tight — muscles straining —
JC: Kline’s going for the Dust to Dust! We could have a new Universal champion!
King’s expression flashes from arrogance to alarm.
He drops his weight suddenly.
He tries to counter.
He shifts his hips and attempts a desperate back body drop —
Kline is lifted—
For a split second, he is airborne.
Kline twists mid-air—
He lands on his feet.
But he is inches from the drop.
His heel skids on slick stone.
The water ripples beneath him.
The crowd on distant balconies gasp!
JR: “Ohhhhhh he almost went in!
Kline turns around! Kieran, adrenaline surging, doesn’t give him space.
He pivots—
Superkick!
…
But Kline ducks under!
As King’s leg swings past, Kline circles around! They both turn!
Pop-up forearm smash—
Ashes to Ashes!
The blow cracks against King’s jaw.
King stumbles backward.
He is teetering now.
Arms windmilling slightly.
The canal waits behind him.
JC: Take it, kid! This is your moment!
JR: Is Kieran King getting eliminated in the first round?!?
[b]“The precipice calls! One more breath may decide his fate!”
Kline’s chest rises and falls violently.
He backs up.
His expression is feral.
He’s ready to sprint.
Ready to finish it.
…
But Cent sees his opportunity!
And like the general he is, he chooses the exact moment.
He explodes forward.
Kline’s eyes widen — too late.
Centurion grabs him from behind.
Waist hooked.
Hips turned.
With a guttural roar, Centurion launches—
RELEASE 1000 MILE SLAM!
Kline is hurled like a projectile toward the reeling Kieran King.
JC: Centurion trying to wipe them BOTH out!
JR: Like trying to kill two birds with one stone! …Or, I guess more accurately, a bird with a second bird!
Kline flies through the air toward the Uni champ…
…
At the last possible heartbeat—
Kieran’s survival instinct kicks in.
His eyes go wide.
He dives sideways.
He rolls toward safer stone.
Kline, airborne…
…
Has no such luxury!
His body sails past the space King just vacated—
And over the edge.
There’s a split second of silence.
Then—
SPLASH.
Water erupts upward.
The canal swallows him.
Eliminated: Solomon Kline
Rogan: “HE’S GONE! He’s in the water!”
Castillo: “Solomon Kline has been eliminated by ring out!”
“Cast into the depths! The tide claims one warrior!”
Ripples spread across the canal.
Centurion stands near the edge, chest heaving, eyes locked on the water below.
Kieran King pushes himself up to his knees, soaked hair clinging to his forehead, staring at Centurion.
[/b]
The two remaining competitors circle, noticeably a little slower from the exhausting battle that led to this point!
JC: This has been one of the most hellacious first round battles, Joe!
JR: That’s crazy to remember! This is just the FIRST ROUND! Both these guys are fighting for the chance to fight THREE MORE TIMES!
Kieran — trying to reassert control — swings first with a sharp forearm!
Centurion just eats it, but stays upright!
He fires back with a stiff European uppercut.
Kieran’s head snaps back.
Cent steps in again to follow it!
Bloody Symphony attempt!
Knee rising—
Kieran twists aside at the last moment, the knee grazing his jaw instead of crushing it.
King retaliates immediately, face twisted with spite.
He hooks Cent’s head—...
Ugly on the Outside!
Codebreaker!
JR: Ballgame! That’s gotta do it right there!
Centurion’s jaw snaps downward violently as King lands seated on the stone.
King scrambles over him, hooking the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
THR—Centurion kicks out!
JR: WHAT?!?
JC: Incredible endurance by Centurion! He refuses to let this chance for the XWF’s top prize go while he’s got even a fraction of a breath left in his body!
King grips the sides of his head in disbelief…
His mouth falls open.
King slaps the stone in frustration.
He grabs Cent again, fury overtaking finesse.
He yanks him upright —
Another setup.
Another Ugly on the Outside attempt—
Centurion’s eyes flare.
He shoves King away mid-lift.
Hooks the waist.
Spins through—
1000 MILE SLAM! ONTO THE BARE VENETIAN STREET!
JC: AHHHHHHH! CENT HIT IT! CENT HIT THE 1000 MILE SLAM!
JR: NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
King bounces off stone.
…Cent lays on the street, clutching his stomach!
JC: COVER HIM! COVER HIM, CENT!
Cent takes a breath that visibly hurts at this point and crawls arm over arm, diving onto King!
ONE!
TWO!
THREEEEEEEEEE-NO!
Kieran kicks out!
Now it’s Centurion’s turn to stare in disbelief!
JC: …MAN. The nearest of nearfalls for Centurion! If he moved just a modicum faster, we might have a new Universal champion!
Centurion’s breathing grows heavier.
But his eyes burn brighter.
He pulls King up again, determination etched across his weathered face.
He positions him—
Another 1000 Mile Slam.
He lifts—
Kieran’s face twists from panic… to calculation.
…Kieran slips behind Cent!
LOW BLOW FROM BEHIND!
[white[JC: Oh come on![/white]
Centurion’s body seizes.
His grip loosens instantly.
Kieran wastes no time.
He hooks Cent’s head again.
Ugly on the Outside!
…
But Centurion plants his feet mid-drop!
He shoves King backward and drops him flat on his back!
Centurion turns over the legs—
FALL OF ROME!
JC: AH! Cent’s got his submission maneuver locked in!
JR: Go for the ropes, Kieran!
JC: They’re fighting in the middle of the City of Water, Joe! There’s no ropes!
JR: SOMEONE INSTALL SOME ROPES! QUICK!
King screams, clawing at the cobblestones.
He twists his torso violently, refusing to submit.
JC: He’s got it locked in! Centurion’s about to win the Universal Championship!
King rolls.
He fights.
He contorts.
His hand shakes…
…
……
AND HE SOMEHOW MANAGES to turn onto his back, breaking the torque!
Cent leans forward to reapply pressure—
King’s thumb shoots upward.
Into Centurion’s eye.
Cent staggers backward instantly, clutching his face.
JC: Another dirty blow by the Universal champ!
JR: Sorry, do you think Kings are crowned by playing fair! VICTORY! By any means necessary!
King scrambles up.
He lunges forward, grabbing a front facelock.
He hoists—
F UR HEAD!
Brainbuster attempt—
But Centurion twists mid-lift.
He lands behind King!
The crowd gasps from distant balconies.
Cent’s face is fierce now.
He hooks the waist—
Going for another 1000 Mile Slam—
King’s eyes flash.
As he’s lifted off the ground… His boots extends!
He drives a vicious kick directly into Cent’s knee!
Centurion collapses to one knee instantly, pain shooting through his face.
JC: Oh C’MON! Attacking that knee that Cent has dealt with injuries to in the past!
Cent’s hand grabs at his knee reflexively.
That half-second is all Kieran needs.
He snatches the front facelock again.
And delivers a snap…
F UR HEAD!
Centurion’s skull and shoulders spike against the stone.
King hooks both legs tightly.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Winner and STILL XWF Universal Champion: Kieran King
The bell tolls over the lagoon.
JR: Kieran King survives! He survives Centurion AND Solomon Kline!
JC: That man will do ANYTHING to keep that championship!
[b]“Through cunning and cruelty, the king preserves his crown!”
Centurion lies motionless for a moment, staring up at the Venetian sky.
Kieran rolls onto his back, exhausted… but smirking.[/b]
![[-]](https://xwf1999.com/images/portal2/collapse.gif)
