The lights dim and rise on a stark, stripped-down setup: a single raised platform positioned dead center of the ring, the iconic Golden Gate Bridge lit up under the night sky. Kentucky "Tuck" Taggart is already standing on his mark, arms crossed, jaw set like granite. Across from him, Lane'l Pennyfarthing takes his position, rolling his neck, with "The Dark Warrior" Michael Graves parked just behind the barricade at ringside.
Todd: Welcome, everybody, to Bad Medicine, live from right here at the foot of the Golden Gate Bridge! And they are wasting NO time tonight, straight into our opening bout!
Bama: A power slap fight, Todd! My favorite kind of violence, because it requires zero athletic ability, just a willingness to get your face rearranged!
Todd: Tuck Taggart, a man who does not know the meaning of the word "quit," against Lane'l Pennyfarthing, who I don't think has ever thrown a power slap in his life!
Bama: And Michael Graves is right there at ringside for this one, keeping a close eye on his guy!
The referee checks both men's stances, confirms the rules, and steps back. Tuck sets his feet, rolls his shoulders, and stares straight ahead without blinking. Lane'l shakes out his hand theatrically, milking it for the crowd.
Bama: Look at Tuck, Todd, he's not even acknowledging the crowd. Total tunnel vision.
Todd: That's Tuck Taggart for you. No frills, no nonsense, just a man ready to hit another man as hard as humanly possible.
Lane'l Pennyfarthing
- vs -
Kentucky 'Tuck' Taggart POWER SLAP FIGHT
The referee gives the signal. Lane'l winds up first, a big theatrical windup, and cracks Tuck across the face with a loud smack that echoes across the bridge. Tuck's head snaps sideways, but he resets immediately, expression unchanged.
Todd: OH! Lane'l gets the first shot in!
Bama: That one had some mustard on it! Tuck barely flinched though!
Tuck steps up to his own mark, plants his feet, and unloads a slap of his own, a short, compact, brutal strike that rocks Lane'l back on his heels. Lane'l stumbles, catches himself on the platform railing, and shakes his head to clear the cobwebs.
Todd: And Tuck fires right back! That one buckled Lane'l's knees a little!
Bama: See, that's the difference, Todd. Lane'l's slap looks impressive. Tuck's slap FEELS impressive.
Lane'l steps up again, still rattled, and swings hard, landing another loud crack across Tuck's cheek. Tuck's neck snaps back this time, and he takes half a second longer to reset.
Todd: Lane'l is fighting back! That's two big shots landed by Pennyfarthing!
Bama: He's making noise, I'll give him that.
But when Tuck steps up, his slap lands even harder than the last one, a thunderous crack that sends Lane'l staggering two full steps backward, nearly tripping off the platform entirely! He barely hangs on!
Todd: GOOD LORD! Tuck nearly knocked him off the platform with that one!
Bama: Lane'l's legs went rubbery for a second there! Graves does NOT look happy about what he's seeing!
The pattern repeats. Lane'l's shot lands clean but does little visible damage. Tuck's return slap rocks Lane'l's whole body, snapping his head back so hard that spit flies from his mouth. The crowd oohs in unison.
Todd: This is starting to tilt, Bama. Tuck Taggart's shots are landing with far more force!
Bama: Lane'l's face is starting to swell up like a water balloon! This is not going his way at all!
Todd: Graves is pacing at ringside now, he knows his guy is in trouble!
Pennyfarthing, visibly shaken, swings again, but the shot is weaker this time, arm fatigued, and it barely rocks Tuck at all. Tuck doesn't hesitate. He steps in and delivers his hardest slap of the night, a devastating crack that drops Lane'l straight to one knee on the platform.
Todd: DOWN GOES PENNYFARTHING! Down to a knee!
Bama: That might be it, Todd! One more like that and he's done!
Todd: Lane'l needs to find something, ANYTHING, or he's getting knocked clean out!
Lane'l pulls himself back up on shaky legs, blinking hard, clearly rattled and out of answers. He glances toward Graves at ringside, then out at the crowd, buying himself a few extra seconds before the referee calls for the next round.
Bama: You can see it in his face, Todd, he knows he's got nothing left in that arm!
Todd: If Tuck lands one more clean shot, this fight is over!
Just as the referee steps in to reset both men on their marks, Lane'l suddenly points wildly
toward the upper section of the crowd.
Lane'l: HEY! Check it out! That lady up there just took her top off!
Bama: WHAT?!
Bama: I don't see anything, where is she?!
The referee cranes his neck toward the stands. Tuck, caught up in the moment like everyone else, glances up and to the side for just a split second, his focus completely broken.
That's all Graves needs. He lunges forward from ringside and cracks Tuck across the jaw with a full, clean right hand, thrown from outside the ring while nobody in an official capacity is watching. Tuck, mid-turn and completely unprepared, drops like a stone onto the platform!
Todd: OH MY GOODNESS! GRAVES JUST DECKED HIM! Right hand from Michael Graves, and Tuck Taggart is DOWN!
Bama: I didn't even see a woman up there, Todd, there was no woman!
Todd: There wasn't! That was a con job the whole time! Lane'l made the entire thing up!
Bama: And it worked! Tuck never saw it coming!
Todd: And neither did the referee!
The referee spins back around just in time to see Tuck flat on the platform and Lane'l standing over him, shaking out his hand and pointing down at his fallen opponent, playing to the crowd as if the shot himself had done all the work. Graves slips back behind the barricade, hands in his pockets, the picture of innocence.
Todd: The referee has no idea what actually happened! He thinks Lane'l finished him off clean!
Bama: Lane'l Pennyfarthing, ladies and gentlemen, cheating his way to a win right in front of everybody and somehow getting away with it!
Todd: Tuck Taggart is not moving! He’s OUT!
Winner: Lane’l Pennyfarthing
The bell sounds. Lane'l drops to his knees theatrically, milking every ounce of drama out of the moment, clutching his own hand as though it had done the damage, while Graves applauds from ringside.
Bama: Lane'l Pennyfarthing picks up the win here in the opening match of Bad Medicine!
Todd: A win is a win, but everybody in this building except that referee knows exactly what just happened! Tuck Taggart is going to be furious when he watches this back! That was Michael Graves who won this match, not Lane'l Pennyfarthing!
Bama: Tuck's still out cold, Todd, so I don't think he's watching anything back for a little while!
Tuck lies motionless on the platform as Lane'l is helped from the ring by Graves, playing up an injury to his slapping hand that nobody buys for a second. The crowd rains down boos as the two make their way up the aisle, Lane'l milking every step.
TODD: "The inaugural Blade Championship Tournament begins right now! One of these four competitors will take the first step toward hoisting that beautiful championship blade sitting beside Razor Blade!"
BAMA: "And only one of these first two is walkin' out with all that YEET knocked clean outta their system!"
The Time is now hit's as he walks out on stage. “The Surgeon of Thug” John Blade talks to the cameraman and bounces a little. He holds up his “Never Give Up” logo flag and tosses it to the f-... wait, no fans over on that side. He just tossed it into the abyss. Regardless, he salutes and runs straight down towards the platform!
[blue]TODD: There he is! The “Surgeon of Thug”! The “Chain Gang”! John Blade!
BAMA: We only ever see Blade looking happy as a clam, but he looked madder than a dog whose bone got pilfered by an alleycat when Jay tried to run up on him at that autograph signing!
TODD: To John Blade, there is nothing more important than the fans! To John Blade, respect isn’t something you demand, it’s something you earn! And respect is something John Blade feels he has earned over his storied career!
BAMA: But Main Event Jay Fetu got that YEET in him! And he’s ready to YEET some respect into John Blade!
John bounces off the ropes side to side and he holds up his “Hustle, Loyalty, and Respect” shirt. He takes off his hat and tosses his shirt to the fans, hands his Chain to the ref, and waits for his opponent to arrive.
He nods toward Razor in the timekeeper’s chair, giving his fellow Blade a salute, the same one he’d just given the fans. Razor chuckles and shakes his head.[/align]
…
Main Event Ish hits and he walks out behind the XWF Universe wearing an Yeet Sunglasses and a Yeet shirt with a Fetu logo on the side of his pants and a Yeet on the right side and he makes a stop near the steps and raise his hands up and wave'em his Yeet hands and the Universe was following him and they were doing it alone side with him and he keeps on walking down the stairs and slapping kids and adults high five and making his way down the ring…
TODD: There he is! The man they call ‘Main Event’! Jay Fetu!
BAMA: I finally get YEET, Toddrick! Yeet is what Fetu feels he needs to do to earn some damn respect around here!
TODD: That was clear in his promo, Bama! He confronted his long-time friend, Razor Blade, the caretaker of the Blade Championship Blade! He said, yes, he’s part of the Blade Family, sometimes called the Chain Gang in the XWF… but he pointed out to Razor there’s a pecking order that’s been made crystal clear. When the choice is between John and Jay… Razor chooses John.
BAMA: And Jay’s sick of it!
TODD: Razor said he wants both men to win tonight, Bama! He feels an immense deal of respect and admiration for every member of the Chain Gang!
BAMA: But only one can, Toddrick! And Jay’s in front of his hometown crowd in San Francisco, California! To win the Blade Championship Blade tonight would mean more to him than anything! How DARE Razor treat these two men like they both deserve it the same!
Jey climbs over the barricade and sees two Commentary of Bama and Todd slapping hands aloneside with Jey Fetu…
Jay turns the corner and sees Razor, sitting in the timekeeper’s chair. For a moment the air is tense… The crowd audibly oohs.
TODD: Here we go.
Jay approaches Razor.
And offers his hand.
The two shake!
TODD: Phew!
BAMA: BOO! KILL EACH OTHER!
Jay gets inside of the ring in climbs on the top rope and continues waving his Yeet hands towards the Universe and he gets down and the XWF Universe shouts replay it once more and he does and gets right back up on the top rope and repeat the same Yeeting with the Universe and hops down and music fades and waits for his Opponent to appear…
…
John Blade wore the confident grin everyone had come to expect. He bounced lightly on his heels before raising one hand toward the younger fans lining the barricade. Several children erupted into deafening cheers, waving foam hands and replica chains.
Across the ring, Jay Fetu's lips curled into a cocky smirk, though the twitching muscles in his jaw betrayed how personally he took the divided reaction. His hometown loved him, but John's pocket of young fans somehow managed to be just as loud. He slowly pointed a finger toward himself.
"YEET!"
The San Francisco crowd answered with a thunderous roar.
John simply nodded.
The two men stepped toward center ring.
Neither offered a handshake.
Instead...
Both smiled.
Todd: "No hatred."
Bama T: "Nah."
Todd: "Just confidence."
Bama T: "Maybe too much confidence."
The bell rings
THE INAUGURAL BLADE CHAMPIONSHIP BLADE TOURNAMENT
TOURNAMENT MATCH ONE
John Blade
- vs -
‘Main Event’ Jay Fetu
John's eyes narrowed with playful amusement. Believing strength solved strength, he stepped forward and locked up.
Jay's eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly, almost insulted John would challenge him head-on. He leaned into the collar-and-elbow tie-up with every ounce of brute force.
The ring canvas groaned.
Neither man moved.
The audience buzzed.
John's smile faded.
Jay's grin widened.
Feeling John's resistance wasn't breaking, Jay suddenly twisted his hips and exploded forward, muscling John backward nearly into the ropes.
TODD: "Listen to this crowd!"
BAMA: "That boy's got horsepower!"
John's nostrils flared. Pride stung, he rolled his shoulders before darting back toward center.
This time he shoved.
Jay shoved back.
Neither yielded.
Foreheads pressed together.
Muscles bulged.
The referee wisely stepped away.
Razor leaned forward in his chair.
A flicker of annoyance crossed John's face.
He suddenly abandoned the test of strength altogether.
Lou Thesz Press.
The crowd exploded.
Mounted punches rained down.
Jay immediately covered up, his face hardening with irritation as every shot bounced off his forearms.
Feeling himself trapped beneath the barrage, Jay planted both boots against John's hips.
With one enormous kick—
John flew backward.
Jay rolled to one knee, breathing harder now, his smile gone.
Fetu exploded upward.
Running shoulder block.
John flipped inside out.
TODD: "What impact!"
Seeing John roll immediately back to one knee instead of staying down caused Jay's eyebrows to rise.
He groaned, irritated.
BAMA: Just stay down, you dull Blade! Let Fetu be in the main event like he deserves!
TODD: John made it clear, Bama! You want respect? Earn it! You want John Blade to stay down? You better put him down!
Fetu charged again.
John's face sharpened with determination.
Instead of absorbing another collision—
He leapt.
Leaping clothesline.
Both men crashed flat!
TODD: Wow! What hangtime! Even after all these decades in wrestling, John Blade still has some surprises buried in his playbook!
The audience applauded as the two men struggled on the mat…
John pushed himself up first.
He saw Jay beginning to stand.
Opportunity.
He sprinted.
Running somersault neckbreaker.
Jay stumbled awkwardly before dropping onto one knee.
John immediately hit the ropes again.
Five Knuckle Shuffle!
The children inside the arena erupted.
John waved his hand.
YOU!
CAN’T
SEE
MEEEEEEEEEEEE
Adults booed loudly.
Children screamed even louder.
He bounced off the ropes—
…BUT JAY KIPS UP!
John tries to put the brakes on…
BUT SUPERKICK!
…
CONNECTS!
YEEEEEEEEET!
John collapsed sideways onto the mat
Bama T jumped from his chair.
BAMA: "I TOLD YA! HOT DAMN! YEET, BABY! YEEEEEEEEET!"
Jay's chest heaved.
He looked toward his family seated ringside.
They were standing.
Cheering.
His confidence returned instantly.
He grabbed John.
Northern Lights Suplex.
Bridge.
ONE—
Kickout.
Jay slapped the mat.
TODD: I think Fetu thought he had that one locked up! But it’s gonna take more than that to take down the Surgeon of Thug!
BAMA: Stay on him, Fetu! Give that surgeon a YEET-ectomy!
John blinked repeatedly while lying flat on his back.
The kick still echoed inside his skull.
John climbed back up.
Jay met him halfway.
Forearms flew.
John answered.
Jay answered harder.
Neither backed down.
Each strike landed louder than the last.
The crowd began dueling chants!.
Blade struck Fetu with a forearm smash!
WOOOOOOO! went the kids!
Fetu struck back with a closed fist punch!
YEEEEEET! Went the San Franciscans in the crowd!
Jay snarled.
He swung wildly.
John ducked, before scooping Fetu off his feet and onto his shoulders…
SPIN-OUT POWERBOMB!
The ring shook.
TODD: Good grief! That’ll do it! If John can cover, he’s onto the finals!
John clutched his ribs while crawling instead of covering.
TODD: Oh no! I think that move might have done something to Blade!
BAMA: Old age, Toddy baby! Let that fossil go the way of the dinosaurs and put him in a museum!
John finally gathered the wherewithal to crawl into a cover…
But not before Jay rolled underneath the ropes!
BAMA: THERE WE GO! Veteran instincts by Jay Fetu on display!
John followed.
Outside—
Jay's eyes darted toward the apron.
Desperation mixed with instinct.
He sprinted.
John chased.
Jay rebounded off the apron.
Fetu Dive.
The flying suicide dive smashed John into the barricade.
Fans scattered.
TODD: "Bodies everywhere!"
Razor rose halfway out of his chair before catching himself.
His hands clenched together.
TODD: You can see the conflict in Razor’s face watching this match between his two longtime friends!
BAMA: He almost forgot who he was supposed to pretend he was being neutral for, Toddrick!
TODD: Oh shuddup, Bama!
Back inside—
Jay climbed.
Top rope.
His hometown stood.
Fetu Splash—
Nobody home.
John rolled.
Jay crashed chest-first.
Both men crawled.
Neither could immediately stand.
The referee reached eight before they finally staggered upward.
John goes for a Lou Thesz Press again…
But this time, Jay surprises him with a judo throw that sends Blade up and over! Blade rolls through…
AND FETU SURPISES HIM WITH A SUPERMAN PUNCH!
TODD: OH MY!
Blade goes down hard on his back! Fetu staggers back against the ropes, the crowd is screaming now!
"YEET! YEET! YEET!"
BAMA: HE’S GONNA DO IT! JAY FETU IS GONNA BEAT JOHN BLADE!
John looks out on his feet, like his body is driving him up, but his mind is out… Jay pounds his chest… He turns to the side, aiming a kick to take Blade’s head off…
Blade turns around.
And Jay fires the YEET of his life!
SUPERKICK!
…
NO! John ducked!
The crowd gasped.
Jay's foot whistled harmlessly over John's head.
John dipped his shoulder underneath Jay's center of gravity.
In one smooth motion—
Fireman's carry.
TODD: "HE'S GOT HIM!"
Jay thrashed wildly, his face suddenly filled with panic as he realized exactly where he was.
John roared.
THE DEATH VALLEY DROP!
Jay exploded off John's shoulders and crashed violently into the canvas.
The entire arena shook.
John collapsed across him.
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
DING DING DING!
Winner and advancing to the Blade Championship Blade Tournament Final: John Blade!
Todd: "John Blade survives! He's headed to the tournament finals!"
The arena fractured into two completely different worlds.
The children erupted in joyous celebration, screaming John's name as they jumped up and down, some waving replica chains in the air.
The older fans answered with a wall of boos, devastated that their hometown favorite had come so close to pulling off the upset only to be cut down at the last possible moment.
John slowly sat up, exhausted, his own chest heaving. He looked back at Jay for a long moment before giving him a respectful nod. There was no mocking celebration. Whatever overconfidence he'd entered the match with had been tempered by the realization that Jay Fetu had pushed him to his absolute limit.
Razor Blade rose from his chair and offered John a firm nod of approval as he passed the display case holding the golden Blade Championship Blade. John couldn't help but let his eyes linger on the gleaming prize before turning toward the announce desk.
Instead of retreating backstage, John pulled up a chair beside Razor Blade at ringside, folding his arms atop the announce table with a satisfied grin. The tournament was only halfway over, and now he had the best seat in the house to scout whoever survived the other semifinal.
TODD: An exhausting victory, and a smart decision. John Blade gets to rest, recover, and study his next potential opponent."
BAMA: "Or maybe he just wants to make sure whoever survives knows exactly who's waitin' on 'em in the finals."
TODD: Well, we’re rolling straight onto the next match, Bama! No breaks for these competitors!
…
The lights went dark!
The sound of thunder Ker-ACKS throughout the arena!
Over the PA system, a woman laughs…
A Storm…
Is…
COMING
Suddenly, the lights turned blue! Rain falls from the rafters above as Latoya Hixx walks out at the top of the ramp, flexing her muscles!
TODD: What an entrance! Latoya Hixx is in the building! THE STORM IS COMING!
BAMA: And the Storm is PISSED! She was talking this week like she’s been on a losing streak, even though she actually dueled Meteorologist Clown to a draw!
TODD: Latoya Hixx accepts nothing but excellence for herself! This is her chance tonight to secure her first piece of XWF gold around her waist!
BAMA: …Well, no. It’s a big machete made out of gold. It’s not a belt, so it wouldn’t go on her waist.
The lights return to their default settings as Hixx walks straight down the aisle and she slaps a few hands of wrestling fans!
Hixx climbs up the steel steps, then enters the ring…
The lights dim and she flexes her muscles one final time!
…
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! Latoya’s twin sister!
TODD: Even though they look nothing alike! Deena and Latoya are both tired of disrespect! Tired of having to fight tooth and nail for respect in the XWF! They’re both ready to claim their first major accomplishment and winning the Blade Tournament would do that for both of them!
BAMA: But it can’t do it for both of them! It can only do that for one of them! And that’s IF the winner of this match gets through John Blade!
TODD: These two sisters… these long time tag-team partners… have to go through each other for their dreams of respect and success come true!
Deena slides into the ring and leans on the ropes with her legs crossed and waits for her Opponent to arrive.
…
In the center of the ring, Latoya stared across at her sister.
Her expression was confident.
Almost amused.
She rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck as she looked down at the much smaller Deena.
Not with hatred.
With certainty.
Deena noticed the cool confidence in her sister’s faze
Her eyebrows immediately lowered.
Her lips tightened.
She hated being looked at like she was smaller.
Because in her mind...
She wasn't.
She was faster.
She was smarter.
She was the future.
Deena slapped her own chest.
"You're looking at the next Blade Champion!"
The crowd reacted with a mixture of cheers and laughter.
TODD: Gotta give it to Deena, she believes in herself.
BAMA: That makes one person that believes in her. She’s as wide as one of Latoya’s arms! Latoya’s gonna rip her in half like Houdini ripping up a phonebook!
Latoya simply shook her head.
The bell rang.
THE INAUGURAL BLADE CHAMPIONSHIP BLADE TOURNAMENT
TOURNAMENT MATCH TWO
Latoya Hixx
- vs -
Deena Hixx
Latoya stepped forward, convinced she could overpower Deena immediately.
She reached out for a collar-and-elbow tie-up.
Deena's eyes widened.
Not with fear.
With excitement.
She saw the opening.
The giant woman was actually willing to play her game.
Deena darted forward.
Too fast.
Multiple arm drags.
One.
Two.
Three.
Latoya was sent tumbling across the mat repeatedly!
[blue]TODD: Ho-Holy-HOLY COW! Deena is whipping Latoya around the ring with speed!
BAMA: What the HELL is going on here?
TODD: Deena using some physics and a lot of speed to keep her much larger sister off her feet!
The smaller woman popped back up instantly.
She threw her arms into the air.
The confidence came rushing back.
[pink"See?!"[/pink]
Latoya sat up.
Her face tightened.
[blue]TODD: Latoya doesn’t look hurt after that… except maybe her pride.Not hurt.
BAMA: She should be ASHAMED! The strongest woman in the division had just been tossed around by someone an eighth of her size!
Latoya slammed her fist against the mat.
Deena smiled.
Latoya charged.
Deena's eyes lit up.
She saw the same opening again.
The same trick.
The same success.
She rushed forward for another arm drag.
Latoya's eyes narrowed.
She had noticed.
The first time, she had been surprised.
The second time, she was ready.
Latoya planted her feet.
Deena pulled.
Nothing happened.
Deena's face changed instantly.
Confusion.
She pulled harder.
Still nothing.
Latoya simply lifted.
The audience gasped.
Latoya launched Deena overhead.
Monkey flip!
Deena crashed onto her back.
Todd jumped.
TODD: "And there is the power difference!"
BAMA: "That's the problem with being the fastest car on the road, Todd. Sometimes you forget there are trucks out there."
Deena rolled away clutching her back.
She shook her head.
Determined to prove herself, Deena kipped up and sprinted forward.
Latoya saw the charge.
She smiled.
She knew exactly what was coming.
Deena attempted another arm drag.
Latoya caught her.
Spinning heel kick attempt.
…NO! Deena ducks under!
A burst of speed.
Low dropkick!
…CONNECTS!
Latoya stumbled backward.
Deena's confidence returned.
She bounced off the ropes.
Wheelbarrow position.
She caught Latoya.
Wheelbarrow bulldog!
Latoya hit face-first.
The arena exploded.
Deena rolled onto her knees, pointing at the display case.
At the championship.
At herself.
Deena: "That's mine!"
Razor Blade watched from ringside.
His face remained stoic.
But his eyes moved between both women… His jaw a little tighter.
TODD: A little less conflict in Razor’s eyes with this match, Bama!
BAMA: Of course! Latoya’s been Razor’s partner for his entire XWF tenure! Meanwhile, Deena’s the kid sister who won’t keep her mouth shut about how much she wants a turn to play!
John Blade leaned forward beside him.
Studying.
Not cheering.
Analyzing.
TODD: John Blade looking locked in like he’s cramming before the biggest test of his career!
Latoya pushed herself upward.
Her face showed frustration.
She slapped her chest.
Latoya: "Come on!"
She wanted Deena to fight her.
Not run.
Deena heard it.
Her pride took over.
Deena charged Latoya!
Latoya welcomed it.
The smaller wrestler threw a spinning heel kick.
Latoya ducked under! And while Deena was still spinning, Latoya hit the ropes!
Spear!
…NO! Deena siderolls away!
TODD: Close call there! That one could have finished Deena!
BAMA: Latoya SNEEZING on Deena could finish Deena! It’s just a matter of time! The question isn’t who John Blade is facing in the final, it’s how much gas will Latoya have left in the tank after wrangling her sister like a rabies-addled alley cat!
Deena rolls toward the corner, her back to the turnbuckle!
Latoya sees Deena’s
Another spear attempt.
Deena saw it coming.
She jumped.
Latoya crashed into the turnbuckle.
TODD: "This is the best we’ve ever seen Deena Hixx! She’s not just zipping around the ring, she’s adapting!”
BAMA "Don't get too excited, Todd. You're talking about Deena Hixx. She might learn something, but she might also forget it five seconds later."
Deena saw Latoya down.
She climbed.
Top rope.
The crowd rose.
Latoya slowly looked upward.
Her eyes widened, as she shoves off the mat!
Deena launched.
Diving crossbody!
…
NO!
LATOYA CAUGHT HER!
The entire arena gasped.
Deena's eyes went wide.
BAMA: Look at that face! Deena realizes her mistake. She had flown directly into the path of a panzer tank!
TODD: Deena Hixx is in no man’s land here! Latoya has her sister exactly where she wants her!
Latoya adjusted her grip.
Latoya's face twisted with determination.
The crowd rose.
Latoya lifted.
Fallaway slam.
But Deena's eyes suddenly sharpened.
As Latoya lifted her backward, Deena wrapped her arms around Latoya's shoulders.
Her legs locked around Latoya's upper body.
The momentum carried them backward.
Latoya crashed onto her back.
But Deena's shoulders were never touching the mat.
Instead...
Deena's shoulders trapped Latoya's.
MOUSETRAP PIN!
The referee slid into position.
ONE!
Latoya's eyes widened.
She tried to power out.
TWO!
Her muscles exploded.
She almost broke free.
THREE!
DING DING DING!
Winner and advancing to the Blade Championship Blade Final: Deena Hixx
The arena erupted.
TODD: "SHE STOLE IT! DEENA HIXX HAS DONE IT!"
Bama T: "I DON'T BELIEVE IT! THE LITTLE ROCKET JUST PARKED THE TANK!"
Deena immediately rolled away, sitting up with a stunned expression.
For a moment...
Even she looked surprised.
Then the smile came.
The confidence returned.
She pointed at the Blade Championship Blade.
She was going to the finals!
Todd: "John Blade versus Deena Hixx in the finals! What a tournament this has become!”
Bama T: "John better be careful. The little one just knocked out a giant."
The camera focused on the golden Blade Championship Blade as John rose from his seat beside Razor and walked up the steps.
Deena was still mid-celebration as John stepped up in the corner opposite her!
TODD: That’s right, folks! We’re rolling straight into the final!
BAMA: No rest for Deena Hixx! Can she pull off two huge upsets back-to-back!
Deena finally turns around… John smiles and salutes her. Deena scowls… right… the job’s not done.
TODD: "This is it! The finals of the first-ever Blade Championship Blade Tournament! After everything these competitors have gone through tonight, it comes down to John Blade and Deena Hixx!"
BAMA: "And I gotta say, Todd, this is the exact kind of matchup that makes tournaments dangerous. John Blade's been through a war with Jay Fetu. Deena Hixx just shocked the world by beating a woman who could probably bench press this entire announce table."
TODD: "But John has something Deena hasn't faced tonight. Experience!"
Razor Blade remained seated beside the championship display.
His posture was calm.
Professional.
But his eyes never left the ring.
John looked across the ring.
His expression was serious.
The usual playful smile was gone.
The children in the crowd screamed his name.
The older fans booed loudly.
John absorbed both reactions.
Deena bounced on the balls of her feet.
Her eyes darted around the arena.
She pointed at the golden blade.
Then at herself.
John slowly nodded.
…
Then, he raised his hand.
The crowd knew what was coming.
YOU
CAN’T
SEE
MEEEEEEEE
The children erupted.
Deena scowls, rolling her eyes.
TODD: John Blade respects what Deena just pulled off! But respect doesn’t mean he’s gonna bow down to Deena Hixx!
The bell rings!
THE INAUGURAL BLADE CHAMPIONSHIP BLADE TOURNAMENT
TOURNAMENT FINAL
John Blade
- vs -
Deena Hixx
The Winner will become the First-Ever Wielder of the Blade Championship Blade
The two circled.
John lowered his stance.
Deena grits her teeth.
TODD: Blade’s taking a very different approach to Latoya Hixx. He’s willing to wait for her to make the first move!
BAMA: And Deena Hixx HATES waiting! She hates feeling like she’s not in control!
He was waiting.
Watching.
Deena's eyes narrowed.
She exploded forward!
Multiple arm drag.
John hit the mat.
Another arm drag.
John rolled.
A third.
John slid across the canvas.
Deena popped up.
Her confidence skyrocketed.
She pointed toward the fallen champion of the fans.
”See?!?”
John pushed himself up.
His face remained composed.
But internally, he adjusted.
Deena rushed again.
Spinning heel kick.
John ducked.
Deena landed perfectly.
She immediately went back on offense.
Low dropkick.
John stumbled.
TODD: Look at Deena soak in this crowd’s reaction!
BAMA: This is a coming-out party for Deena Hixx! She not only beat her sister for the first time in her career, she’s looking DOMINANT against a legend in John Blade! Deena may very well be cruising to the Blade Championship Blade!
John backed into the corner.
Deena smiled.
She saw an opportunity.
She charged.
John's eyes focused.
The second she committed, he moved.
Deena crashed chest-first into the turnbuckle.
John grabbed her.
Snap powerslam.
The ring shook.
Deena rolled away… her back arched in pain… but quickly, she slapped the mat and started rising to her feet!
TODD: Deena not letting the agony coursing her through her distract her from this opportunity!
John approached.
Deena exploded upward.
Monkey flip attempt.
John planted his feet.
He refused to move.
Deena's eyes widened as John rotated her onto his shoulders…
SPIN OUT POWERBOMB!
Todd stood.
TODD: "What a counter!"
BAMA: "That's the difference. Latoya had power, but John has timing. Deena can’t just outspeed John, she has to outthink John!”
John covered.
ONE!
TWO!
Deena kicked out.
John sat up.
His eyebrows lifted, somewhat surprised…
Deena crawled backward.
Her breathing was heavy.
John moved forward, his hands going to scoop Deena up by the scruff of her neck…
When Deena suddenly sprang up!
Hurricanrana!
John flipped forward, landing on his back!
Deena landed.
She immediately climbed.
Top rope.
TODD: She’s going for it again! That diving crossbody!
John slowly stood.
He looked upward.
Deena launched.
Diving crossbody!
…
AND ONCE MORE, SHE’S CAUGHT!
The arena gasped.
John heaves Deena up from a powerslam position onto his shoulders!
…
WHEN ONCE MORE, Deena’s arms and legs wrapped around John's shoulders!
TODD: She’s going for it again! Not but a few minutes ago, this is exactly how Deena beat her sister!
THE MOUSETRAP!
Deena pulls herself back with all she’s got to rip John’s shoulders against the mat!
…
…..
But John didn't fall.
His legs remained planted.
Deena's smile disappeared.
TODD: Uh oh… Deena tried that trick against someone who literally just watched her pull it against someone else! Blade was ready for the Mousetrap!
John shifted his weight.
As Deena pulled backwards, John suddenly rolled backward in a somersault!
Deena's eyes widened.
The momentum carried her over.
But instead of landing the pin...
John used the roll, to wind up back on his feet!
Holding Deena in a Fireman's carry position.
The arena exploded.
Blade lifted…
DEATH!
VALLEY!
DROP!
TODD: HE HIT IT! HE HIT IT!
Deena crashed into the canvas.
The entire arena shook.
John rolled over.
Hooked the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING DING DING!
WINNER AND FIRST EVER WIELDER OF THE BLADE CHAMPIONSHIP BLADE: JOHN BLAAAAAAAAAAAAADE!
The arena exploded.
TODD: "JOHN BLADE HAS DONE IT! JOHN BLADE IS THE FIRST-EVER BLADE CHAMPION!"
The children screamed.
They jumped.
They waved their merchandise.
"CHAIN GANG! CHAIN GANG! CHAIN GANG!"
The older fans rained down boos.
John stood.
Exhausted.
Bruised.
But victorious.
Razor Blade opened the display case.
The golden Blade Championship Blade gleamed under the arena lights.
For a moment, John simply stared at it.
The tournament.
The pressure.
The expectations.
All of it led here.
Razor stepped into the ring.
The two friends looked at each other.
No words were needed.
Razor handed him the championship.
John raised the golden Blade Championship Blade high above his head.
Todd: "A historic night in XWF! The first-ever Blade Championship Blade Tournament has crowned its champion!"
Bama T: "I'll give him credit. I don't like him. Half this crowd doesn't like him. But that man just beat a powerhouse, survived a speed demon, and walked out with the gold."
The broadcast returns from a commercial for Bad Medicine’s official commemorative syringes.
The camera does not cut back to the arena.
Instead, it enters darkness. A low industrial hum vibrates through the speakers. Steel groans somewhere in the distance.
Then…
CLACK!
A fluorescent light flickers to life.
Another follows.
Then another.
One by one, the lights reveal a cavernous industrial meat freezer located somewhere beneath the arena. The walls are covered in frost. Steel shelving units stretch from floor to ceiling, packed with frozen boxes, butcher knives, bone saws, and unidentifiable packages wrapped in thick brown paper.
Heavy carcasses hang from an overhead rail system, swaying gently from rusted hooks.
Chains dangle between them.
The concrete floor is glazed with a thin layer of ice and streaked with old, frozen blood.
At the center of the freezer sits a crude wrestling area bordered by steel butcher tables rather than ropes. There are no turnbuckles. No protective mats. Only four meat hooks suspended above the corners and enough industrial equipment to violate every workplace safety law ever written.
TODD: Ladies and gentlemen, what you are looking at is the specially constructed environment for the first -and, God willing, last- Meathooks of Horror Match!
BAMA: Speak for yourself! This place has got everything! Meat! Hooks! Meat hooks!
TODD: The rules are simple. There are no disqualifications. No count-outs. The freezer will be locked once both competitors enter. Victory can be achieved by pinfall, submission, or referee stoppage.
BAMA: And apparently death!
TODD: Death is not listed among the official methods of victory.
BAMA: That’s because lawyers don’t like putting promises in writing.
A reinforced steel door opens at the far end of the room. Cold vapor pours across the floor.
Mr. Oz steps through it.
The returning giant wears loose white pants and white hand wraps. His heavily muscled frame seems almost carved from stone beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. A white cloak hangs from his shoulders, trailing through the mist.
Oz surveys the freezer without visible concern.
He looks at the hanging carcasses.
The hooks.
The chains.
The frozen blood beneath his bare feet.
Then he smirks.
BAMA: Mister Oz looks like somebody carved a serial killer out of a marble countertop.
TODD: Six feet, eight inches. Three hundred and twenty-six pounds. Tremendous power, tremendous agility, and a deeply unsettling degree of confidence.
BAMA: He’s not scared of the freezer, Todd.
TODD: He may be the only person in San Francisco who should be.
Oz removes his cloak and places it carefully over a steel table.
The lights flicker.
The reinforced door opens again.
Dom stands in the doorway.
No colorful chef’s coat.
No corporate branding.
No oversized hat.
No trademarked smile.
Just a stained white undershirt stretched across his three-hundred-and-fifteen-pound body, dark work pants, and a heavy butcher’s apron.
His head hangs slightly forward.
His arms rest loosely at his sides.
His eyes remain fixed on Oz.
Dom walks into the freezer.
He does not acknowledge the referee.
He does not look at the crowd watching through mounted cameras.
He does not react when the steel door slams shut behind him.
THOOM!
Heavy locks engage automatically.
TODD: That is not the Dom Durango who built a billion-dollar microwave food empire.
BAMA: Nah. That fella had catchphrases. This one looks like he ate the catchphrase.
TODD: Ever since consuming those infernal grits prepared by Micheal Graves, something has changed inside Dom.
BAMA: Something changed outside him too! Look at his face!
TODD: There is nothing behind his eyes.
BAMA: Oh, there’s something back there. It’s just waiting for us to fall asleep.
The referee stands between the two men.
Oz towers nearly a foot over Dom.
Dom stares into the center of Oz’s chest.
The referee raises his hand.
The bell sounds from somewhere outside the freezer.
Mister Oz
- vs -
Dom Meathooks of Horror Match
DING! DING! DING!
Oz immediately charges. Dom does the same! They collide in the middle of the freezer with enough force to shake frost loose from the ceiling. Oz throws a right hand. Dom answers with one of his own!
Oz!
Dom!!
Oz!!!
Dom!!!!
Neither man backs away. The punches become faster and uglier, closed fists hammering jaws, cheeks, temples, and ribs. Oz finally gains the advantage with a driving knee into Dom’s stomach.
Dom folds forward. Oz grabs him around the waist…
HIP TOSS!
Dom flies across the frozen concrete and crashes onto his back.
He rolls immediately onto one knee. Oz barrels forward with a shoulder tackle that sends Dom skidding beneath a butcher table.
TODD: Oz establishing the power difference immediately!
BAMA: He just sent three hundred pounds of evil sliding like a hockey puck!
Dom crawls out the other side. Oz reaches over the table and grabs him by the throat. Dom jams his thumb directly into Oz’s eye. Oz recoils. Dom lunges across the table with an open-palm chop to the throat.
THWACK!
Oz staggers backward, coughing.
Dom climbs onto the butcher table and launches himself - - -
Oz catches him in midair!!!
Dom’s eyes widen slightly.
Oz lifts him overhead in a gorilla press.
He holds the massive Chef above him.
Then drops Dom stomach-first across his raised knee!
GORILLA PRESS GUTBUSTER!
Dom bounces off the knee and collapses onto the frozen floor.
Oz hooks the leg.
ONE!
TWO!!!!
DOM KICKS OUT!!!!!.
Oz drags Dom upward by the apron. Dom drives a forearm into Oz’s jaw. Another. A European uppercut snaps Oz’s head backward. Dom follows with a headbutt.
Oz wobbles.
Dom grabs the larger man by the waistband and neck, attempting to throw him into one of the steel shelves.
Oz blocks it.
Dom tries again.
Oz reverses- - -
CRASH!
Dom smashes spine-first into the shelving.
Boxes rain down around him.
Oz charges with a high knee- - -
Dom moves.
Oz’s knee slams through the thin metal shelf.
His leg becomes trapped between two bent supports.
Dom does not hesitate.
He stomps the exposed knee.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The referee warns him pointlessly.
Dom grabs Oz’s ankle and twists while continuing to kick at the joint.
TODD: Dom has immediately identified a target!
BAMA: That’s the problem with being six-foot-eight. There’s a lot more of you for a psychopath to work with!
Oz reaches down, grabs Dom by the back of the neck, and pulls him face-first into the shelf.
Dom’s skull strikes steel.
Oz tears his leg free and limps backward.
Dom comes around swinging.
Oz ducks a lariat and catches Dom from behind.
GERMAN SUPLEX!
Dom lands across his shoulders.
Oz maintains the waist lock.
He drags Dom back up.
SECOND GERMAN SUPLEX!
Oz keeps his hands locked.
THIRD!
Dom bounces hard against the concrete.
FOURTH!
Dom’s butcher apron flips over his face as his body folds.
FIFTH!
The impact sends one of the hanging carcasses swaying on its hook.
Oz muscles Dom up one final time.
He pauses.
Squats with Dom’s full weight clenched against his chest.
Then launches him with the—
SIXTH GERMAN SUPLEX!
Dom flips completely over and crashes stomach-first through a wooden pallet.
TODD: Sextuple German Suplex! Oz just threw three hundred and fifteen pounds around like a practice dummy!
BAMA: Dom might be frozen food again by the end of this!
Oz stalks toward the wreckage.
Dom lies motionless beneath splintered wood.
Oz grabs the back of Dom’s apron and pulls him upright.
Dom suddenly turns and sprays something into Oz’s face.
Oz screams.
He stumbles backward, clawing at his eyes.
A small bottle falls from Dom’s hand.
The label reads:
INDUSTRIAL MEAT TENDERIZER
TODD: What was that?!
BAMA: Seasoning!
TODD: He sprayed Oz directly in the eyes!
BAMA: The package says avoid contact with skin, eyes, and gigantic returning wrestlers!
Dom charges with a lariat.
Oz remains standing.
Dom runs to the opposite side of the freezer, rebounds off a butcher table, and hits another lariat.
Oz staggers.
Dom backs away again.
He charges- - -
Oz nearly cuts him in half with a striking spear!
Both men crash through a row of hanging carcasses.
Hooks and chains swing violently overhead.
One frozen side of beef tears loose and crashes onto the concrete beside them.
Oz crawls across Dom’s chest.
ONE!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!
Dom thrusts a shoulder upward!
Oz wipes the tenderizer from his eyes. His vision begins to clear. He grabs Dom and lifts him into a delayed vertical suplex. Oz holds Dom upside down.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Oz performs a squat.
Then another.
A third.
Blood rushes into Dom’s hanging skull.
Oz starts to bring him down - - -
Dom drives a knee into the top of Oz’s head.
Oz loses control.
Dom drops behind him.
He snakes both arms around Oz’s throat.
This is not a wrestling hold.
Dom locks his hands beneath Oz’s chin and pulls backward with everything he has.
Oz’s face darkens.
He tries to pry the arms apart.
Dom plants both feet against the back of Oz’s knees and drags the giant down.
They fall against a butcher table.
Dom wraps a loose chain around Oz’s throat and twists it around his fist.
TODD: Dom is strangling him with that chain!
BAMA: He ain’t trying to win a match! He’s trying to turn Oz’s head into a carry-on bag!
The referee asks Oz if he submits.
Oz refuses.
Dom pulls harder.
Oz reaches blindly across the butcher table.
His fingers brush against something.
A frozen turkey.
Oz grabs it and swings backward.
THUNK!
The turkey smashes into Dom’s face.
Dom releases the chain.
Oz gasps for air.
He turns around and swings the turkey again.
Dom ducks.
The frozen bird explodes against the steel shelving.
Dom drives a European uppercut into Oz’s chin.
Oz answers with a big boot.
Dom falls against a hanging carcass.
Oz charges with another spear- - -
DOM SIDESTEPS!!!
Oz spears directly through the frozen carcass.
The meat tears from the hook and folds around Oz’s shoulders. Dom grabs the dangling chain above him. He pulls. The overhead rail system jolts to life. The hanging hooks begin traveling slowly around the freezer. Oz frees himself from the carcass. Dom leaps onto the moving rail chain and swings feet-first into Oz’s chest….
The dropkick knocks Oz backward onto a steel butcher table!!!
Dom lands badly on one hip but forces himself upright.
He climbs onto the neighboring table.
Oz sits up.
Dom jumps across the gap and drives both knees into Oz’s chest!
The butcher table buckles beneath them.
Oz crashes through it and lands among twisted metal.
TODD: Dom just used the freezer’s rail system to launch himself through Oz!
BAMA: He’s adapting! That is what made Dom a billionaire!
TODD: Predatory business practices and international food monopolies made him a billionaire.
BAMA: Adapting was probably in there somewhere!
Dom drags Oz from the wreckage and covers him.
ONE!
TWO!!!!!!!!!
Oz powers out and throws Dom nearly six feet through the air!!
Dom hits the ground and rolls toward a stack of frozen boxes.
Oz rises slowly.
A thin line of blood runs from his temple.
He charges.
Dom lifts a box and throws it.
Oz swats it away.
Dom throws another.
Oz punches through it.
Frozen hamburger patties scatter across the floor.
Dom kicks one beneath Oz’s foot.
Oz steps onto it.
His foot shoots forward.
He performs an accidental split before falling backward.
Dom jumps onto Oz’s chest and begins raining down closed-fist punches.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Right.
Oz covers his face.
Dom claws at his mouth.
His fingers press between Oz’s lips, pulling at his jaw.
The referee tries to intervene.
Dom headbutts the referee without even looking at him.
The official falls backward against a shelf.
TODD: Dom just struck the referee!
BAMA: Referee should’ve kept his hands out of the kitchen!
Dom stands over Oz and stomps him repeatedly.
Chest.
Stomach.
Face.
Throat.
Oz catches Dom’s boot. Dom shakes his head. Oz rises while holding the leg. He spins Dom around.
Dom attempts an enzuigiri!
Oz ducks beneath it!!
OOF!!
Dom lands stomach-first!
Oz grabs him around the waist and deadlifts him from the ground.
DOUBLE A SPINEBUSTER!
Dom’s back smashes against the concrete.
Oz does not cover him.
Instead, Oz drags Dom toward the wall.
He lifts Dom onto his shoulders.
Dom throws elbows into the side of Oz’s head.
Oz keeps moving.
He runs forward and launches Dom with a modified powerbomb—
Dom crashes through the freezer’s emergency glass cabinet.
The alarm begins to shriek.
Red lights flash.
Broken glass spills across Dom’s back and shoulders.
Oz pulls him from the cabinet.
Dom is bleeding now.
The cuts appear black beneath the red emergency lighting.
Oz scoops him up.
BODY SLAM ONTO THE BROKEN GLASS!
Dom’s body convulses.
Oz hooks both legs.
The referee crawls closer.
ONE!
TWO!!!!!!!!
THR— !!!!!!!!!!
Dom kicks out.
Oz stares at him.
For the first time, the confidence leaves his face.
Dom slowly turns his head.
He smiles.
It is not the broad, market-tested smile of Dom Durango™.
It is small.
Private.
A smile meant only for Oz.
TODD: Dom is smiling.
BAMA: I liked him better when he was selling microwave lasagna.
TODD: Nobody liked him then.
BAMA: I liked knowing what he was!
Oz grabs Dom by the throat and pulls him upright.
He lifts Dom for a bear hug.
Oz’s massive arms constrict around Dom’s ribs.
Dom’s face turns red.
Oz tightens his grip.
The referee checks Dom’s arm.
It falls once.
Oz squeezes harder.
The referee lifts Dom’s arm again.
It falls twice.
On the third attempt, Dom’s hand remains raised.
He places his palm over Oz’s nose and mouth.
Oz shakes his head.
Dom clamps down, blocking Oz’s airway.
Oz releases the bear hug.
Dom lands on his feet and immediately kicks Oz’s damaged knee.
Oz drops to one leg.
Dom delivers a brutal open-palm chop to the ear.
Then a forearm smash.
Then a second European uppercut.
Dom backs away.
He charges for the Clothesline from Hell—
Oz explodes upward with a pop-up!
Dom flies into the air.
Oz drives his knee into Dom’s skull!
SLEEP NOW, SWEET CHILD ’O MINE!
Dom crumples to the floor.
Oz falls across him.
The referee counts.
ONE!
TWO!!!!!
THRE—
Dom’s foot lands on the bottom shelf of a steel rack.
There are no ropes.
The referee hesitates.
TODD: Dom’s foot is on the shelving!
BAMA: That ain’t a rope!
TODD: But it is part of the boundary!
BAMA: There are no boundaries! We are locked in a meat freezer with a demonic microwave chef!
The referee waves off the break.
THE COUNT CONTINUES!!!
Dom grabs a hanging hook and drives it into the referee’s hand.
The referee screams and jerks away before three can be counted.
Oz rises in disbelief.
Dom rolls beneath a butcher table.
Oz follows him.
Dom emerges on the opposite side holding a long steel skewer.
Oz freezes.
Dom lunges.
Oz catches Dom’s wrist.
They struggle over the weapon.
Oz’s strength begins forcing the point back toward Dom.
Dom releases it suddenly.
Oz stumbles forward.
Dom kicks him in the knee.
Oz drops.
Dom drives a headbutt into his mouth.
Oz falls backward against the overhead rail controls.
The machinery activates at full speed.
Hooks begin racing around the freezer.
Chains whip through the air.
The hanging carcasses swing wildly.
One slams into Dom and knocks him sideways.
Another collides with Oz.
The freezer becomes a storm of steel and frozen flesh.
TODD: The entire rail system has been activated!
BAMA: DUCK THE MEAT, TODD!
TODD: We’re not in the freezer!
BAMA: DUCK IT ANYWAY!
Oz dodges one swinging carcass.
Then another.
Dom emerges from behind the third and drives a forearm into Oz’s face.
Dom hooks Oz’s arm and attempts a takedown.
Oz blocks it.
Oz lifts Dom for another suplex.
A chain catches around Dom’s ankle.
Dom hangs upside down for a moment as the rail continues moving.
Oz looks upward. Dom swings back toward him and catches Oz with a pendulum kick to the face. Oz stumbles onto a butcher table. Dom grabs the moving chain with both hands and pulls himself upward. He rides the rail over Oz’s body. Then releases….
KNEE DROP FROM THE OVERHEAD RAIL!
Dom’s knee crashes into Oz’s sternum.
The table collapses beneath them!!
Both men disappear into the wreckage. The rail continues clattering overhead. The referee crawls toward the pile. Dom emerges first. He pulls Oz upward by the hair. Oz suddenly throws Dom over himself with a desperation hurricanrana!!!
Dom flips across the frozen floor and crashes into the base of a steel shelf. Oz pushes himself upright.
He runs forward and leaps- - -
CROSSBODY!
All three hundred and twenty-six pounds of Oz crush Dom against the shelving.
The structure trembles.
Boxes topple from the top.
Oz drags Dom away before the shelf collapses.
He sets Dom for Gravitas.
Oz hooks Dom in the End of Days position.
He twists for the standing Spanish Fly- - -
Dom bites into Oz’s forearm.
Oz roars and releases him.
Dom spits blood onto the floor.
Oz swings.
Dom ducks.
Oz turns around - - -
CLOTHES
LINE
FROM
HELL!
Oz flips inside out.
Dom falls beside him.
The referee counts as Dom drapes an arm across Oz’s chest.
ONE!
TWO!!!!!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TODD: Oz survived the Clothesline from Hell!
BAMA: Survived might be generous! His body just filed a change-of-address form!
Dom crawls toward a wall-mounted emergency lever.
The words above it read:
LIQUID NITROGEN - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
Dom grabs the handle.
The referee realizes what he is doing.
He dives forward and catches Dom’s arm.
Dom turns slowly.
The referee shakes his head.
Dom releases the lever.
Then punches the referee in the throat.
The official collapses.
Dom pulls the handle.
A valve opens overhead.
A blast of white vapor erupts across the freezer.
Oz disappears inside the cloud.
Dom walks into it.
The cameras struggle to maintain focus.
Shapes move through the fog.
A fist appears and strikes Dom.
Dom vanishes.
Oz emerges, coughing.
Dom attacks from behind with a steel chain.
He wraps it around Oz’s torso.
Oz flexes and snaps the restraint apart.
He turns - - -
BIG BOOT!
Dom falls onto a sheet of ice.
Oz charges with a knee drop.
Dom rolls away.
Oz’s knee crashes through the ice and into the concrete beneath.
Dom stomps the joint.
Oz grabs him by the throat.
He rises on one leg.
Oz launches Dom into the air.
Dom rotates backward, lands briefly on a steel table, and springs off - - -
MASSIVE PELE KICK!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dom’s heel catches Oz in the temple.
Both men fall.
TODD: Dom just used Oz’s own style of offense against him!
BAMA: That was the ugliest Pele Kick I’ve ever seen!
TODD: It worked!
BAMA: So does hitting somebody with a Buick. Doesn’t make it wrestling!
Dom crawls toward the corner of the freezer.
Oz follows.
Dom reaches behind a stack of crates and pulls out a heavy butcher’s cleaver.
Oz sees it.
Dom raises the blade.
Oz kicks Dom’s wrist.
The cleaver spins into the air and embeds itself in a wooden support beam.
Oz grabs Dom from behind and walks him along the edge of a butcher table.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Oz balances across the narrow steel surface while controlling Dom’s hand.
He reaches the end.
Oz leaps - - -
A REVERSE STO!!!
It drives Dom face-first through a stack of frozen wooden crates.
Oz rolls Dom onto his back.
The referee remains down.
Oz pounds the floor.
No count.
Oz looks toward the nearest camera.
TODD: Oz has this match won, but there is no official to count!
BAMA: Welcome to XWF! Where referee insurance premiums are measured in national debt!
Oz drags the referee upright. Dom rises behind him. Dom pulls the cleaver from the support beam. Oz turns. Dom swings.
Oz catches Dom’s wrist again!
Oz headbutts him!!
Dom drops the cleaver!!!
Oz lifts Dom into position for Sleep Now, Sweet Child ’O Mine.
He launches Dom upward - - -
BUT DOM GRABS AN OVERHEAD PASSING CHAIN!
His momentum carries him over Oz’s knee.
Dom swings around the giant’s body and lands behind him.
Oz turns- - -
Dom wraps the chain around Oz’s throat!
Oz reaches back for him. Dom kicks the damaged knee.
Oz drops.
Dom runs the chain through the eyelet of a hanging meat hook.
He pulls downward.
The chain tightens.
Oz is dragged upward by the throat.
His knees barely leave the floor, but the pressure forces his chin toward his chest.
TODD: Dom has Oz suspended by that chain!
BAMA: Somebody shut off the rail!
TODD: Who?!
BAMA: The union steward! The butcher! The ghost of Upton Sinclair! Anybody!
Oz claws at the chain.
His face turns purple.
Dom steps onto a butcher table and pulls with his full body weight.
Oz reaches upward.
He grabs the meat hook itself.
The metal bends in his hands.
With a roar, Oz tears the hook loose from its rail.
Both men collapse.
Oz rolls onto his stomach, gasping.
Dom approaches.
Oz sweeps Dom’s legs.
Dom falls onto his back.
Oz grabs both ankles.
He catapults Dom face-first into a hanging side of beef.
Dom’s head disappears into the frozen carcass.
Oz runs forward.
He leaps onto the butcher table and launches himself into a double side flip- - -
BOONE BOMB!
Oz crashes sideways through Dom and the hanging carcass.
The hook tears free.
The meat, the chain, and both wrestlers slam onto the floor in a frozen heap.
Oz lies across Dom.
The referee’s hand slaps the floor.
ONE!
TWO!
THR!
NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
DOM GETS A SHOULDER UP!
Oz sits up.
He looks down at Dom.
Dom’s eyes are still open.
Oz grabs him by the throat.
He pulls him to his feet.
Oz sets for Gravitas again.
He hooks the head and arm.
He twists- - - -
GRAVITAS!
The standing Spanish Fly sends both men crashing onto the frozen concrete.
Dom lands directly across the back of his skull.
Oz covers him.
ONE!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The lights shut off.
Complete darkness consumes the freezer.
TODD: What happened?!
BAMA: I DON’T KNOW, BUT SOMETHING JUST TOUCHED MY LEG!
TODD: We’re in the arena!
BAMA: THAT DON’T MEAN DOM AIN’T HERE!
Metal scrapes across concrete.
Someone screams.
A heavy object falls.
Then silence.
The emergency lights activate. Dim red illumination fills the freezer.
Oz is no longer covering Dom.
Oz is on his knees.
A chain is wrapped around his throat.
Dom stands behind him.
One end of the chain is attached to a meat hook embedded in the steel freezer door.
The other is clenched in Dom’s fist.
During the blackout, Dom has used the chain to yank Oz backward off the pin.
The referee looks confused.
Dom drives a forearm into the back of Oz’s skull.
Oz refuses to fall.
Dom hits him again.
Oz remains on his knees.
Dom runs toward a butcher table.
He steps onto it.
Leaps onto the back of a hanging carcass.
Rides it forward as the rail moves - - -
Dom releases at full speed.
FLYING CLOTHESLINE FROM HELL!
The chain remains wrapped around Oz’s throat as Dom’s arm smashes across his chest.
Oz is ripped backward.
His body twists through the air.
He crashes onto the frozen concrete with Dom landing across him.
The impact breaks the chain loose from the hook.
Dom hooks Oz’s enormous leg.
The referee crawls into position.
ONE!
TWO!!!
THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Winner: CHEF DOM!
The locks disengage. The steel freezer door opens. Warm air pours into the room as medical personnel rush forward.
Dom remains seated beside Oz.
His back is covered in blood and fragments of broken glass.
TODD: Chef Dom has defeated Mister Oz in one of the most violent matches we have ever witnessed!
BAMA: That ain’t Chef Dom.
TODD: What?
BAMA: Chef Dom was loud. Chef Dom wore the hat. Chef Dom sold his face on frozen dinners and threatened children with copyright lawsuits.
Dom looks directly into the nearest camera.
BAMA: That thing doesn’t care whether anybody knows its name.
TODD: Oz brought incredible power, agility, and resilience into this match, but Dom used every inch of this environment to dismantle him!
BAMA: Clothesline, chain, meat hook, freezer door. That wasn’t a finishing move. That was a workplace fatality report.
Medical personnel attempt to approach Dom.
He rises. Every person in the freezer stops. Dom walks past them without resistance. He reaches the open doorway.
A paramedic carefully checks Oz’s neck.
Dom pauses in the doorway.
He slowly looks over his shoulder. Then he disappears into the vapor beyond the door.
The big screen flickers on as the lights around the Golden Gate turn off. The camera footage begins to roll with simple letting across the bottom…
— Earlier Today —
The Golden Gate Bridge.
Pre recorded footage starts somewhere around afternoon time . Thick fog rolls beneath the bridge, swallowing the bay view below. Forklifts continue to move around the outdoor venue. While various production cords are being run along the area.
The giant steel cage sits in the middle of the bridge like a prison. Several members of the XWF production crew pace around it with clipboards and radios, giving it one final inspection before its use later in the night…
One technician shakes the side of the structure.
He shakes it again…
It doesn’t budge.
TECHNICIAN: “Looks good. Door locks are solid… roof’s reinforced… should be ready for tonight.”
Another crew member nods as he checks off the final box on his clipboard.
Before another word can be spoken, a slow creaking noise echoes through the bridge. The stage and assembly techs look at the structure assuming it is coming from the steel, but it wasn’t…
The workers glance toward the entrance ramp.
Emerging from behind are two familiar silhouettes.
The Fallen Father, Malachi Graves. Walking beside him with his head slightly lowered and under a hood is the massive frame of Judd Hollow.
The stage curtain pulls back again as about a dozen members of The Following silently trail behind them like mourners attending a funeral.
The production crew exchanged uneasy looks.
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT: “Uh… gentlemen, the cage is finished. We were just-”
Malachi slowly raises a hand, cutting the technician off…
Malachi continues a slow attentive circle around the structure, dragging his fingertips across the cold steel mesh. The metal groans beneath his touch. His expression remains unreadable.
Finally…
He stops.
A grin slowly creeps across his face.
MALACHI GRAVES: “Finished?”
He softly chuckles.
MALACHI GRAVES: “No… Finished implies mercy. What do you think??”
He slowly turns toward Judd. Judd spits over the side of the bridge before looking up at the cage. He reaches his hand out and grips the chain link fence. Judd begins to shake it violently…
The entire cage rattles.
JUDD HOLLOW: “Strong enough ta’ keep folks in…”
He slowly looks upward toward the roof.
JUDD HOLLOW: “But I don’t want Holly thinkin’ she’s gonna’ be able to climb or open the door this time!”
His weathered face twists into a grin. His shakes his head back and forth in a motion…
JUDD HOLLOW: “Can’t be lettin’ that happen.”
He turns toward The Following. Without raising his voice, he gives direction.
JUDD HOLLOW: “Go on an’ make it ugly…”
Instantly, The Following springs into motion. They start to roll out a few carts filled with spools of razor sharp barbed wire and a hand cart stocked with fluorescent light tubes of various sizes. The followers start putting on heavy work gloves as the production crew immediately backs away.
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT: “What the hell are they doing?”
No one answers…
Members of The Following begin climbing ladders surrounding the cage. They pull the barbed wire tight around the cage walls and through the links.
Loop after loop...
Layer after layer…
The once climbable chain link fence slowly transforms into a crown of steel thorns. It doesn’t stop though, they begin weaving more coils through the upper sections of the cage walls.
Every opening becomes narrower. Every outlet to escape or climb becomes more impossible without someone harming themselves in the process.
As the barbed wire gets finished, The Following doesn’t stop, they begin to open boxes filled with light tubes, and they start to zip-tie them horizontally and vertically across sections of the fencing.
Some are clustered together. Others are positioned exactly where someone would instinctively grab while attempting to climb.
The cage slowly stops looking like sporting equipment…
…and begins resembling an torture device.
One terrified production assistant speaks up.
PRODUCTION ASSISTANT: “You… you can’t seriously be planning on using all of this…”
Judd slowly turns. His stare alone silences the man, causing a look of fear in his eyes. Judd gives a bit of a smirk and begins to walk over until only inches separate them.
JUDD HOLLOW: “Son… That cage ain’t built ta’ keep wrestlers in!”
The assistant instinctively steps backward while Judd Hollow simply smiles...
Meanwhile, Malachi watches as another length of barbed wire is wrapped around the cage. He folds his hands behind his back as he begins to admire the craftsmanship.
MALACHI GRAVES: “See, some call this barbaric. Some will say this is sickening. Some might even go as far as to say this is unlawful and illegal?”
He slowly shakes his head…
MALACHI GRAVES: “Not in our eyes. This is what is needed!”
He turns toward the finished structure. The steel gleams beneath the California sky. Barbed wire crowns every inch of the top. The sides have now become judgemental walls of sharpened steel.
Light tubes shimmer all around the cage like fragile bones waiting to be broken…
Judd steps forward beside Malachi. The two men silently admire their creation.
Finally…
Judd lets out a satisfied grunt.
JUDD HOLLOW:“Now… If Holly wants to run, she could damn sure try- but what’s she willin’ to risk?”
The camera slowly pulls back.
JUDD HOLLOW: “It ain’t gonna’ be pretty…”
The massive deathtrap looms against the backdrop of the Golden Gate Bridge. Fog rolls through the barbed wire. The fluorescent tubes glisten in the afternoon light.
Malachi walks up by the cage door and pulls a lock from his jacket. He holds it into the air as he picks a chain up that rests on the ground by the cage. Tightening the chain around the door through a link in the fencing, Malachi places the lock around it…
After he locks the gate it’s almost as if that were the final nail in the coffin. Malachi then walks over by the bridge and tosses the key over, watching it fall into the abyss…
MALACHI GRAVES: “Now we’re ready!”
The big screen shuts off as the lighting around the bridge becomes operational once again…
JR: “Wow, talk about diabolical. Judd and Malachi Graves had The Following turn that damn cage into an absolute weapon of destruction!”
JC: “I have a feeling we are going to see something that parents might want to strongly advise their children not to watch?”
Tig Collins: “Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is a steel cage match. The only way you can win this match is by pinfall or escaping the cage…”
A slow pulse of white light resembling a hospital heart monitor throbs with the opening beat of “Born of Darkness.” The tron flickers with sterile images: X-rays, surgical diagrams, and emergency room chaos. A soft, echoing sound of muffled breathing, like someone lying awake in a medical facility, seeps through the arena.
Tig Collins: “Introducing first- weighing in at 140 pounds, from Miami, Florida… Dr. Holllllllllllllly Caaaaambrriiiiiiic!!”
Then, as the vocals begin, Dr. Holly Cambric steps onto the stage.
She's wearing a fitted, high-collared coat resembling a stylized surgeon’s gown, black with blood-red lining. Her gloves are clean and white. Her face is expressionless, head tilted slightly like she’s observing the crowd as subjects, not people.
She doesn’t raise her arms. She doesn’t speak. She walks slowly, controlled, every step measured. The camera focuses on her eyes, which are found unblinking and analytical.
As she reaches the ring, she climbs the steps methodically and wipes her boots twice on the apron, sterile habits she refuses to break. She enters under the bottom rope deliberately and kneels briefly in the center of the ring.
Then she rises.
The final haunting note of the theme echoes as she removes her coat, folds it precisely, and hands it to a ringside official with surgical detachment. She paces the ropes once, then retreats to her corner.
Tig Collins: “And her opponent, being accompanied by Father Malachi Graves…”
The arena surrenders to darkness…
A suffocating hush rolls over the crowd as the lights drain away one section at a time, until what remains is a low glow bathing the entrance stage in tones of ash-gray as that of ash itself falls upon the arena. The titantron flickers once… twice… then stabilizes into a grainy, distorted image of static and slow-moving shadows.
The opening strings of The Brothers Bright – “Blood On My Name” creep through the PA system…
A rhythm begins to form. The rhythm is methodical, deliberate, like footsteps approaching…
Tig Collins: “From Black Creek, Tennessee- weighing in at 273 pounds- Juuuuuuuuudd Holllllllllllllllooooooww!!”
The fog begins to raise from the floor, swallowing the ramp in seconds until nothing below the knees is visible. The stage becomes an altar of mist. It sets the tone as Father Malachi Graves steps out from behind the curtain in his typical reverend attire.
Rosary beads dangle from his fingers, swinging with each slow, deliberate step. He doesn’t look around. He doesn’t acknowledge the crowd. His gaze is fixed forward focused on the mission at hand.
He pauses at the top of the ramp, before giving a whisper upon the beads…
A dragging sound cuts through the music…
“There’s a reckonin’ a comin’.
And it burns beneath the grave…
With lead inside my belly,
Cause my soul has lost its way…”
Chains scraping metal…
Something heavy being pulled aggressively through the fog…
Tig Collins: “From Black Creek, Tennessee- weighing in at 273 pounds- Juuuuuuuuudd Holllllllllllllllooooooww!!”
Judd Hollow steps into view, bare chest carved in inked sleeves that wrap his arms like scriptures of violence. Slightly torn camo pants hang loose, worn like they’ve survived too many nights that should’ve ended him. Heavy chains are draped across his shoulders, trailing down his back and dragging behind him as he walks. A bandana rests upon his head. From beneath it, bleached, uneven dreadlocks spill out—matted, worn, and almost lifeless in color…
“Oh, Lazarus, how did your debts get paid?
Oh, Lazarus, were you so afraid?”
Across his forehead he bares an inverted cross painted in thick black strokes. Smudged at the edges. His eyes are framed in dark paint, stretching beneath them like hollow sockets—giving him the look of something that hasn’t blinked in a long time.
He doesn’t look at the crowd. He looks through them…
Malachi steps slightly ahead, still clutching the rosary. He begins walking again, and Judd follows… two figures moving in sync without needing to acknowledge each other.
The chains drag louder now…
CLINK… scrape… CLINK… scrape…
The music swells, but neither of them reacts…
“When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you
With the hounds of hell comin' after you…
I've got blood…
And I've got blood on my name!”
Halfway down the ramp, Judd stops. The fog curls around his legs almost attempting to swallow him. Malachi continues forward a few more steps, then slowly turns his head back just enough to acknowledge him without breaking his composure.
A quiet exchange happens without words. Judd tilts his head slightly. A slow roll and crack of the neck with a look of hatred etched upon his face. After a quick breath, Judd begins to walk again…
But slower…
It’s almost as if every step is being measured and calculated to precision.
At ringside, Malachi circles once, rosary beads sliding through his fingers like he’s counting sins. He reaches the ring steps first and ascends without urgency, never breaking rhythm. It’s at this moment Judd steps to the ringside area before following Malachi up the steps.
Each step onto the steel stairs produces a heavy clang that echoes longer than it should. Once he reaches the top step Judd pauses again before leaning slightly forward, chains sliding off his shoulders as he drops the iron vines behind him.
Then he steps through the ropes, stomping his foot upon the ring canvas as the fog begins to settle. Malachi watches with a sinister look upon his face, lifting the rosary briefly as if blessing something that should not be blessed.
Inside the ring, Judd walks to the center. The lights begin to flicker frantically before slowing down. Meanwhile through the speakers, the music distorts for half a second, like it’s being choked or even worse-
Possessed…
And then silence returns in pieces…
Judd lowers his head slightly. Malachi stands just behind him now, like a shadow. A cold look growing upon his face. The message becomes loud and clear without a single word being spoken…
Looking over Malachi exits the ring and walks toward the announce table. The cage begins lowering around Judd and Holly. Holly looks at every square inch of the contraption, taking note of the light tubes and barbed wire. Judd lets off a laugh as he paces around in the corner until the cage fully lowers, closing them in.
Malachi applauds as he pulls the spare chair by the announce table and places a headset on…
Graves: “Can you two feel it? Can you feel that feeling in the air?? Tonight, judgement and confession is all around us here at Bad Medicine!”
JC: “Well, this is a surprise, but while you’re here, maybe you can enlighten me. You are not serious about your views on the XWF and how your journey brought you here to destroy this company because it’s toxic”
JR: “Right, you can’t really believe that can you? I mean I’m all for opening my mind to new beliefs but everything is done in a competitive nature.”
Graves: “Yes, this place is absolutely tainted and ruined- It’s a cesspool of filth as I said, I would never lie to the XWF fanbase!”
DING… DING… DING!!
Judd Hollow
- vs -
Dr. Holly Cambric Cage Match
The match starts and Dr. Holly Cambric looks around the cage at the razor sharp wire intertwined in the steel and the fluorescent light tubes that are zip tied all around. She looks to the left and looks to the right, while Judd Hollow slowly walks toward her. Judd looks around the cage as well but his expression is different. He steps forward and reaches out, gripping Holly tightly by the throat. She starts stumbling backward toward the cage wall, but cleverly falls to the mat to avoid any real damage.
JR: “Cambric aware of her surroundings and playing it safe… I like that here!”
JC: “She’s going to have to in this cage. The reverend and Judd Hollow made sure this was turned into a death trap.”
Graves: “Yes, we and The Following did an excellent job!!”
Judd backs away with a smirk as Holly stands up and he paces forward again. He tries to reach out and grab her by the neck again, but this time she has it scouted and ducks under. Holly lays a boot to the back of Judd's shin, but Judd shakes it off, turning around and landing a huge chop to the throat causing Holly to drop to one knee. Judd takes a step back and smirks.
JC: “Vicious chop to the throat by Judd. Holly is definitely feeling that…”
Graves: “Oh please, that’s light work. Judd is just playing with the good Doctor right now. He needs to smell the fear before he starts bringing judgement!”
Holly climbs back to her feet. She steps forward as Judd and her lock up. Holly doesn’t let this last long however as she drives a knee into Judd's stomach. It’s followed by a couple more, but it doesn’t seem to phase Judd as much. She goes to release the lock up and as she does Judd grabs her by the hair before she can get out of arms reach. At this point Holly uses the only line of defense… a low blow!
JR: “Cambric playing dirty, but this is a dirty game and I have a feeling it’s going to get dirtier before this match ends?”
JC: “Well, she went low and it seems to have worked… for the moment!”
Judd leans forward and cups his genitals wincing in pain, giving Holly time to deliver a back elbow to the jaw- followed by another. Judd steps backward and Holly doesn’t lose a step running at him and delivering a knee to the ribs. The Doctor then grips the back of Judd’s head and tries throwing him toward the ropes but Judd reverses and sends Holly into the ropes instead. Holly stumbles forward but uses both hands to boost herself from the ropes causing her to avoid hitting the light tubes and the cage wall.
JC: “Doctor Holly with another close call…”
JR: “Well Judd keeps trying for it, and eventually you have to think he’s going to get a home run!”
Dr Holly, relieved that she caught herself, turns around and gets greeted with a lariat from Judd Hollow. Judd paces around her for a moment as she climbs to a knee, Holly tries to stand but before she can, Judd drives a knee into the side of her cheek. Holly falls to the mat and then Judd gets a sadistic look on his face as he looks toward the cage wall.
JR: “Judd Hallow’s eyes starting to get that wicked glaze in them now. He’s becoming a man possessed!”
Graves: “That right there, that look you see- That’s the calling… The calling for a culling!”
Judd walks over to the cage wall and grips one of the light tubes. He starts to yank on it, trying to pull it from the wall, but the light tube breaks in his hand. Holly climbs to her feet and runs forward, jumping into the air and drop kicking him against the cage belly and chest first causing him to smash against the rest of the fluorescent tube. The glass shatters all over his body as Holly doesn’t miss a step, rolling him up with a pinfall attempt…
ONE!
.
.
KICKOUT!
Graves: “Never a question, The Omega with a kick out!!”
Judd kicks out with ease, and it’s so much force that it now sends Holly Cambric front first against the cage and the barbed-wire. She stumbles back as Judd quickly climbs up and grabs both of her wrists, locking them in straight jacket position and sends her flying back with a straight jacket German suplex. Holly rolls onto her stomach as Hollow stalks her, stepping down onto her fingers with force. She lets out a yell as he reaches down and lifts her back to her feet by the hair. As he does, Holly locks both hands around his neck and jumps down, causing his jaw to come down on the top of her head with a jawbreaker.
JC: “This battle has been a great back and forth fight so far. Holly really shows she can hold her own against Judd’s sadistic thoughts.”
Graves: “You talk as if this isn’t just the beginning. Before long Holly Cambric is going to be begging for Judd to spare her life!”
Holly runs at Judd as he steps back holding his jaw. Jumping into the air she connects an enzuiguri. Judd stumbles further and Cambric gets to feet again- she runs forward again, and gives Judd an elbow to his already aching jaw. The pain tolerance however is unreal. Holly looks shocked, so runs forward again and does a baseball slide into is ankle causing him to drop to a knee. Holly grabs Hollow around his neck and drives him down with a DDT.
Graves: “Blasphemy!”
JR: “Cambric keeping momentum on her side, Graves. Judd looking in a bit of trouble.”
Holly looks around thinking of a way to escape for a moment while she finally has Judd winded, but realizes time is of the essence so she starts an onslaught of stomps to Judd’s chest. After Judd rolls onto his back, Holly drops down on top of him and grabs his arm, wrenching it up in a modified arm bar to try and weaken his limb.
JR: “Holly is going to try and do what she’s known for and that’s weakening limbs…”
After a brief back and forth, Judd powers his arm away and rolls to the corner. He starts to stand against the ring as Holly runs forward and jumps into the air, attempting to cross body him in the corner of the ring. Hollow catches her though and lifts her over his head and does a full sprint forward throwing her into the cage causing light tubes to shatter and some razor sharp wire to cut her skin. Looking around Judd motions for something.
Graves: “Excuse me, but the time has come to make myself useful…”
JC: “Holly finally met the razor sharp barbs and the light tubes. Judd Hollow is disturbing!”
Malachi gets up and drops the headset. He begins a full search under the ring, tossing a small assortment of weapons over the cage and into the ring. First a chair, then a hammer. It’s followed by a two-by-four and a stop sign. The final thing is a small burlap bag which he tries to safely hand Judd through the cage and in between the entanglement of the razor wire.
JR: “Hollow and Malachi really are looking to make this as brutal as possible for Holly tonight…”
JC: “I didn’t realize just how psychotic these two were. First they rigged the cage earlier in the night and now they’re getting a barrage of weapons involved. This is madness, Joe!!”
Judd gets the bag and turns around but time has been wasted and Cambric is now up and has the steel chair in her hand. With a forceful swing she cracks Judd in the stomach, causing him to buckle and drop the bag to the mat. She raises the chair as he leans forward and cracks him on the back with it. Holly then uses the chair as a battling ram rushing forward and driving it front first into Hollow’s neck which makes him fall to the mat. Holly immediately goes for a pin attempt…
ONE!
.
.
TW—
KICKOUT!
Cuauhtemoc: “Judd Hollow will not stay down!!”
Holly shouts with frustration. She looks outside the cage at Malachi Graves who has now sat back down at commentary as she climbs to her feet. She grabs Judd by his dreads and starts pulling him to his feet, but drives an elbow into her stomach. The Doc buckles forward and Judd stuffs her head between his legs lifting her up and sends her flying into the turnbuckles with a running powerbomb. She falls to the mat and rolls onto her stomach as Judd grabs the two-by- four and smashes it across her back, causing her to roll around on the ring mat. Judd drops the two-by-four and then scans all of the walls on the cage.
Malachi Graves: “This right here, this is home to Judd Hollow. In his head, he’s already thinking of what he can do to make sure Holly Cambric feels every ounce of pain she’s made her experiments feel… including Frances Marigold!”
JR: “The brutality in this match has been unreal since the beginning and I have a feeling the worst is yet to come here at Bad Medicine!”
Judd grabs Holly by her wrist and pulls her to her feet. He grips her throat applying a Tongan Death Grip backing her into the corner. With his free hand he throws caution to the wind and pulls on one of the loose wrappings of barbed wire, slicing his own hand in the process. He begins to wrap the wire around Holly's arm, sticking each barb deep into her flesh.
JC: “It appears Hollow is trying to wrap Doctor Holly Cambric to the steel cage?”
JR: “He’s trying to leave her weak and defenseless!!”
With her free hand, Holly Cambric pokes Judd in the eye, making him step back. Holly pulls her arm from the barbed wire leaving deep lacerations.
JR: “Her arm is in bad shape. The damage may already be done?!”
Holly runs forward and delivers a head scissors takedown to Hollow. He goes to stand and she jumps into the air gripping his neck and dropping him head first with and jumping DDT. As Judd rolls onto his stomach, Cambric reaches in her pocket and pulls out a scalpel she had concealed. Holly looks around to a mixed reaction as she holds the scalpel in the air…
Graves: “I told her, Judd is not just somebody she can probe. He is not a lab-rat. This is not going to go too well for her…”
JC: “Yeah but performing surgery is something Holly Cambric can do well, Malachi. If I were you I would absolutely be worried about Judd if she has a scalpel in her hands!”
Holly digs the scalpel deep into Judd’s forehead. An incision opens as blood starts trickling out. Judd rolls onto his stomach as blood dribbles down onto the canvas.
JC: “Judd getting a taste of his own medicine!!”
JR: “That cut is nasty. Look at the blood coming from the forehead of Judd Hollow!”
As Judd takes time to stand, Doc Holly reaches down and picks up the mysterious burlap bag that was dropped earlier, she opens it up and looks inside before dumping it onto the ring mat. The contents scatter everywhere- staples, screws, thumbtacks, nails, and branches from thorn bushes.
JR: “Holy hell- Now I have seen it all. The longer this match goes on, the more sickening it’s become!!”
JC: “Since when did this become a construction site??”
Holly reaches down and grips her hand into Hollow’s shoulder as she helps him stand to his feet. With the Local Anesthetic applied, she tightens a little harder. Holly shakes Judd as she does this adding extra tension…
Holly Cambric: “Is your heart racing yet, you magnificent specimen??”
Holly raises her boot and kicks Judd in the stomach before letting go of the pressure hold. She runs forward toward the barest part of the cage wall and bounces off the ropes coming back with full momentum. She jumps up and looks for the Second Opinion but mid maneuver, Judd uses both hands to push her while she’s in air, launching her back first into the cage, barbed wire and light tubes causing an explosion of phosphor powder. Holly’s body bounces forward and Judd catches her around the neck with both hands lifting higher and drilling her down with a sit-out double handed choke bomb onto all the miscellaneous sharp objects. He stays locked in for a pinfall…
ONE!
.
.
TWO!
.
.
TH—
KICKOUT!!
JR: “Holly Cambric making sure she stays in the fight!”
Graves: “Please that chokebomb almost sent the good doctor straight to hell!!”
Following the kick out Judd rolls off of Holly. He picks up the hammer as she starts to crawl around the ring. Judd gets a menacing look on his face as he drops down on one knee and stalks behind her. He lifts the hammer up and swings it down on her hand causing her to scream. Dropping the hammer to the side he lifts her back to her feet. Judd locks Holly in a sleeper hold, and tightens his bicep around her neck.
Graves: “Choke the life out of her… watch the life leave her eyes! Send her home, Judd!!”
Holly starts to peddle back, but Judd plants his feet. She still continues to use all the force she can to push him back but it becomes a battle. Judd starts swinging Holly as he tightens the sleeper even deeper. Holly starts to look as if she’s fading…
JC: “That sleeper locked in tight and Holly looks to be fading!”
JR: “Judd is looking to choke the life out of Doctor Holly tonight, could this be her fate??”
Somewhere Holly gets a second wind. She muscles forward and jumps up planting her feet on the cage and she uses the momentum to roll Hollow backwards, rolling him up in a pinfall in the process.
ONE!
.
.
TWO!
.
.
THR—
KICKOUT!!
JR: “Holly Cambric almost stole one right here”
Holly scrambles up, and grabs Judd’s wrist before he can stand. She spins forward and levels him with a knee to the side of his face, connecting with the Scalpel Line. Doc Holly debates on going for the pin, but the steel chair in her sight, gives her a second thought. She instead grabs the chair…
JR: “Holly might have had the match won, but she’s looking to put a nail in the coffin…”
JC: “I don’t know if this is smart or not, but Malachi- your chosen one may be dead to rights?”
Holly opens the chair and folds it around Judd's arm as she looks at the cuts and blood on her arms and body. Judd lets off a smirk as Holly raises her leg to stomp on the chair, but as she comes down Judd removes his arm just in time.
JC: “Close call, Holly was looking to take Hollow out of commission for good!”
Holly, now frustrated, reaches down to grab Judd Hollow, but Hollow grips her wrist and stands as she leans over him as he lifts her into fireman’s carry position. He runs sideways and launches her face first into the steel cage like a harpoon. Holly crashes to the mat and after she does, she rolls onto her back now bleeding from the head as well. Judd grins as he wipes the blood from his head…
Graves: “It’s a bloodbath here in San Francisco just like The Lord intended!”
JR: “Did you expect anything less after throwing them foreign objects into the ring?”
Judd grabs a handful of thumbtacks from the may with one hand while lifting Holly to her feet with the other. He shoves the tacks in her mouth as he clenches her wrist. And spins her to a stand. He makes motion of a cross with his free arm, letting his arm sway from up to down and left to right before ripcording her and driving his knee directly into her chin, causing a mouthful of thumbtacks to discharge as her mouth opens. Holly falls to the mat back first after the Black Creek Baptism.
JR: “Black Creek Baptism, Judd Hollow is one sick fuck!!”
Graves: “No Judd is exactly what he’s intended to be!”
Judd goes for a pinfall…
ONE!
.
.
TWO!
.
.
THRE—
KICKOUT!!
Hollow rolls off of her as both he and Holly lay on the mat brutalized and exhausted. Judd starts rising to his feet as Holly rolls on her stomach. Judd stands and looks around as he signals outside the ring once again for Reverend Malachi Graves. Malachi leaves the commentary table once more, hurrying over.
JC: “Good, let’s hope Malachi stays away now!”
Judd whispers something to Malachi. After a nod, Malachi walks off and fetches the chain that Hollow walks down with during his entrance. He begins feeding it through the cage as Judd drags Holly toward it. He wraps the chains around Holly’s neck and feeds the other end back out to Malachi. Malachi grips an end of the chain in one hand and an end in the other and starts to choke Holly up against the cage.
JC: “The Reverend is choking the hell out of Holly with that chain!!”
JR: “She’s got nowhere to go and she could be out cold sooner rather than later?”
Malachi tugs on the chain while Judd reaches down and grabs the stop sign. Holly Cambric desperately grips at the chain, trying to loosen the tension around her neck. As Judd comes forward he goes to swing the stop sign, but Holly kicks up from the ground and sends the stop sign flying back into Judd’s face. Judd stumbles back and finally Holly is able to get on hand under the chain causing Malachi to lose some of his grip before she battles free.
JR: “Impressive work by Cambric. What a way to weather the storm!!”
Holly slowly stands as Judd stakes off the grogginess and steps forward. Holly kicks Judd low and grabs his neck, spinning him out and dropping him with a swinging neckbreaker. Holly grips her hands into the mat and slowly stands up. As she stands, Doc Holly grabs a jagged shard of a light tube from the canvas and drives it into Judd Hollow’s ribs. He lets out a grunt and tries to climb to a standing position. As Judd stands Holly runs up behind him and dropkicks him in the back. He stumbles forward and hits the cage, shattering the fluorescent tubes against his chest with a heavy explosion. As he falls back, Holly wastes no time gripping on his shoulders and driving both knees into his back connecting a backstabber. Holly recoils and wraps Judd in a rear naked choke.
JC: “Flatline Protocol!!”
JR: “We are witnessing a war here tonight inside this steel cage!”
Holly cranks the Flatline Protocol in deeper as Judd attempts to squirm away. Her legs wrap Judd up and he continues to fight, gripping with a free hand to pull away from the choke. Holly digs deeper adding more torque on the hold. Eventually Judd’s power is too much causing her hold to slip. Judd rolls out and uses the ropes to stand on one side of the ring as Holly does on the other.
JC: “Both competitors are giving their all, and it looks like they aren’t done. The tension is insane!!”
They look at each across and then both do an exhausted sprint at each other. Judd ducks Holly’s clothesline and when she turns around he kicks her in the stomach. Judd grabs the two-by-four and breaks it over Holly’s back, causing her to fall front first.
Judd stumbles over and starts pulling the barbed wire from the cage causing deep cuts in his hands in the process. He tiredly yanks the coiled up piece behind him and reaches out as he starts wrapping it around Doc Cambric. She screams with pain as he does. Judd uses his finger to wipe blood from her forehead as he draws a cross of blood across his chest.
JR: “Judd Hollow signals that the end is near, drawing a blood cross on Holly!”
JC: “A sickening sight in San Francisco as Judd has just wrapped Holly Cambric up in barbed wire!!”
Reaching down Hollow grabs the thorn bushing, and starts wrapping it around Holly’s head as a crown of thorns. He pulls Holly to her feet slowly as she’s now mummified with thorns and a razor sharp wire. Giving her a nod of respect, Judd kicks her in the stomach and puts her head between his legs. He lifts her and powerbombs her down driving both knees in her back executing The Devil’s Hollow. Judd reaches out and drops an arm over her as Holly rolls on her back…
ONE!
.
.
TWO!
.
.
THREE!!
DING DING DING!!!
Winner: Judd Hollow
Tig Collins: “Your winner of the match… Juuuuuuudd Hollllllllllllloooooow!!!”
JR: “Holly Cambric has been mummified and crucified here tonight. What I just witnessed is something I never wish to see again!”
JC: “You aren’t kidding. We were warned about just how much of a tortured soul Judd Hollow was, but tonight we actually saw it! He’s one sick individual!”
The cage starts slowly rising as Judd gets up to one knee. He looks down at Holly watching her breath exhaustedly- admiring his work.
Outside the ring, Malachi clenches his rosary with a heavy grin from ear to ear…
JR: “Well, Malachi Graves calls him The Sin Collector, tonight he looked like just that!”
JC: “I think as this cage is getting raised we might need to get the staff to carefully remove the barbed wire from Holly before any further damage is done?”
JR: “That would be wise and I don’t even feel comfortable calling this a cage. This thing legitimately was like a death trap!”
JC: “We witnessed hell on earth here tonight!”
The staff starts making their way down to the ring as Judd swings his bloody blonde locks from his face and takes one more look down at Doctor Holly Cambric.
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The fans pop sizably as Centurion and Oleandyr Reitan burst through the gorilla position, followed soon after by Nellie Cortinovis!
TODD: You know what this means, it’s time for the Anarchy Tag Team Championship match!
BAMA: Oh you said it Toddmeister, and I gotta say I actually like this Woke Mind Virus team. Particularly Nellie’s friend Oleandyr!
TODD: I think they’re more than just friends, Bama…..
BAMA: I mean that chick is HOT!
TODD: Uhhhhhh……
BAMA: You think she would give me her number?
TODD: You don’t actually watch the promos people put out, do you?
Thankfully oblivious to what Bama is saying, the legend Centurion and newcomer Oleandyr clap some fans hands on the way to the ring and then rolls into the ring itself. Centurion gets to his corner staring intently at the entranceway as Oleandyr runs the ropes and Nellie takes her place at ringside.
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The arena lights run blood red in theme with The Midnight Stalkers music. Kristoffer Arroyo is first through the entrance, but at first Graves is nowhere to be seen. Kris casts glances around looking for him, when suddenly, a puff of oily green smoke appears and Graves steps through it!
BAMA: And then we got the champs! Ya know, some people have said these two might just be unbeatable.
TODD: They’re an interesting and highly effective combination, Bama. But a title match of a different kind has to be weighing on Graves’ mind tonight, as he’s squaring off with SEB for the Universal Championship in no more than a few hours!
BAMA: You’re right, and Graves is gonna have to save enough in his tank during this match to take full advantage of that huge opportunity.
Graves slides in the ring and Kris pauses on the ring apron to do his inverted crucifix pose in the ring ropes. Centurion hasn’t removed his eyes from Graves the entire time.
TODD: The legend absolutely hates him some Michael Graves, so much so that he formed this tag team in part just to spite him!
When the music finally dies down the teams go to their corners to confer on who’s starting this thing. The champs quickly send out Kristoffer Arroyo, and finally the challengers send out Centurion, but he points at Graves and beckons him into the ring instead!
BAMA: Oh ho ho! We know who he wants and it ain’t the vampire!
Kris demurely shakes his head no and Graves waves Centurion off disdainfully. Centurion mutters something to himself in frustration and prepares to square off with Kris. The bell rings and both men waste no time locking up. Kris gets an advantage and shoots Centurio into the corner. Cent hits the ropes and Kris goes low to a back body drop but the wily veteran stops himself and kicks Kris in the face instead. Kris wheels around holding his jaw and Centirion expertly suplexes him into a bridged pin!
1…..
2…..NO! Kris kicks out!
Centurion maintains his cool and stays on the vampire, picking him up and backing him into the corner with a series of chops, before laying in some shoulder charges followed by a sit out facebuster bringing the action back to the middle of the ring. Nellie cheers on her father from ringside and Graves is starting to look frustrated, putting his hand out for a tag. Centurion notices this and actually pushes Kris in the direction of his corner, encouraging the tag!
TODD: Oh we might see it now!
Graves slaps Kris on the back hot tag style and lets himself in the ring. Centurion squares up to meet him. Graves goes for a right hook, but Cent dodges and goes for a chop, which lands but doesn’t seem to do much. Graves pulls Cent into a headbutt, followed by another, and then another! Cent’s bell is rung but he’s still in the right! He boots Graves in the gut and sinks down to his knees to deliver an uppercut which rocks the champ. Cent gets vertical and throws Graves into the corner where he gears up with a head of steam for a big splash, but Graves evades it and Cent crashes and burns into the corner! Graves then hits a fallaway slam on Cent before covering him!
1….
2…….NOPE! Centurion kicks out!
Graves disdainfully drives his elbow into Cent’s face and forces him down for another pin!
1…..
2……STILL NO!
In fact, angry, Cent kicks out with more furor the second time. He punches Graves in the head and gets up. Graves meets him with a lock up, but Cent counters into an arm drag, followed by a dropkick to the back of Graves head. Oleandyr has their hand out for a tag, but Cent hesitates to bring them in.
TODD: Centurion clearly not sure he wants to bring the newcomer in against a dangerous veteran like Graves.
However, Oleandyr looks determined and sticks their arm out further this time. Finally, Centurion relents and tags in his partner. Oleander wastes no time putting it to Graves with punches and kicks before dropping him with a Lou Thesz Press. Unfortunately, he gets a little too far into his corner and hits a tag on Kris. Kris enters the ring and he sizes up the Enby Assassin for a moment before lunging for a grapple that he switches up into a double leg take down. He mounts Oleandyr and starts peppering them with punches before dragging them up and bouncing their head off the turnbuckle, followed by a russian legsweep into a pin!
1…..
2….NOT YET!
TODD: The Woke Mind Virus still very much in this thing, but now we get to see what Reitan can do.
BAMA: You got that right, woo hooo!
TODD: Bama, Oleandyr is a a nonbinary in a polycule.
BAMA: Don’t come at me with that you know I failed Chemistry!
Back in the ring, Kris is still controlling Reitan, whipping them into the ropes before nailing them with a spinning heel kick to the face. Reitan starts to drag themselves back to the corner, but Kris intercept them. But Reitan was just playing chicken! They quickly turn onto their backs when Kris bends over, locks their legs around Kris neck for a triangle choke!
Kris struggles to get Oleandyr to release the hold, pawing at their legs furiously hoping for a break. All he can do is rush backwards into his corner with Oleandyr still affixed to him so Graves can hit the tag!
Graves grabs Oleandyr off of Kris and nails them with a big time swinging neckbreaker. Then up into a pulling piledriver that dumps Oleandyr on their head! Graves covers!
1….
2…..
3……NOOOO! Centurion dives into the ring to break up the count!
Graves gets up, furious, as the ref forces Cent back into his corner. But Cent pushes past the ref and nails a sucker punch on Graves! Graves rockets back with his own shot and soon after all control has collapsed as both men wiildly tee off with each other in the center of the ring!
BAMA: This has just devolved into a total slobber knocker and Cent’s not even the legal man!
Kris takes advantage of the ref’s distraction to land a running boot to Oleandyr as they try to get up. Centurion sees this and realizes he’s making things worse, so he goes back to his corner and sticks his hand out for a tag. Graves returns his attention to Oleandyr, and the rookie surprises him with an inside cradle rollup!
1….
2…..NO! Graves explodes out!
Kris now has his hand out, eager to prove himself again after Reitan trapped him in that judo hold. Graves obliges and tags Kris back in and Oleandyr jumps towards their corner to tag in Cent, but Kris intercepts again, dragging Oleandyr to the center of the ring and locking in a single leg boston crab! Oleandyr cries out in pain and fights, fights, fights towards that bottom rope. Eventually reaching it! Kris is forced to break the hold but grabs them by the hair and plants them with an STO. Kris covers!
1….
2…..
3…..NOPE! Reitan kicks out again!
TODD: Reitan is known for having some serious toughness and we’re seeing it here.
BAMA: She may be a chemistry major but she’s one hell of a tough broad too!
TODD: Oh Bama….we’re going to get so, so many angry comments….
Kris wrenches Oleandyr vertical again, but this time, out of sheer desperation, they pop Kris in the face with a punch right to the mouth! Kris relents, holding his teeth, before lunging for Oleandyr again. But Oleandyr drops Kris’ floor out from him by dropkicking him in the knee. Oleandyr then leaps for their corner again, tagging in Centurion! Cent gets a sizable pop as he gets back in this thing!
Centurion grabs Kris and hits him with a snap mare takedown, followed by a brutal kick to the spine. Kris pushes Cent away as he gets up, and then tags Cent in the gut with a kick followed by a scissor kick to the back of his head. Kristoffer whips his opponent into the ropes, and then hits a running knee lift to their face, followed up by a series of further knee lifts while balancing on the middle rope! Cent gets busted open on his forehead by the brutal assault!
BAMA: We’ve got blood!
TODD: Kris calls that the Teatro Grottesco, and it lives up to its name.
Kris disdainfully tosses Centurion down to the mat and covers him!
1….
2……
3……NOOOOO! Centurion kicks out!
Looking annoyed, Kris picks Centurion up but Centurion desperately barrels him into the corner where he hits a series of shoulder charges. Cent then hits a snap punch to Kris face, and goes for another, but Kris blocks it and drills Cent with a shot of his own. Kris pushes Cent into the center of the ring and goes for another spinning heel kick but Cent avoids it and Kris crashes to the mat. Cent then picks Kris up and goes for the 1000 MILE SLAM!!!!
BUT KRIS ESCAPES DOWN CENTS’S BACK!
Cent wheels around and Kris punts Cent in the stomach and sets him up for the ROMEO’S LAMENT!
But then it’s Oleandyr with the save, hitting a big boot to Kris’ face and interrupting the move!
Graves calls out angrily from his corner and the ref forces Oleandyr back to their corner. Graves paces in the ring apron as Centurion gets vertical once again. But he turns his gaze from Kris to Graves, again beckoning him in! The fans pop for the challenge and Graves gets in the ring without hesitation! Centurion goes to reel back a punch!
BUT GRAVES SPITS HIS GREEN POISON MIST!
AND CENTURION DODGES JUST IN TIME!
ONLY FOR KRIS ARROYO TO CATCH THE MIST TO THE EYES INSTEAD!
FUCK!
Oleandyr storms the ring and spears Graves from out of nowhere, and they both land in a heap on the outside of the ring!
Centurion turns back towards the blinded legal man! Kris swings wildly but catches only air! Centurion gets up and under him and hits the 1000 MILE SLAM!
THE FANS POP HUGE!
But Centurion isn’t done! He maintains a hold on Kris, rolls over, dead lifts the vampire up and hits a second 1000 MILE SLAM! Centurion covers Kris!
1…..
2…….
3!!!!!!!
WINNERS AND NEEEEEEEEEW XWF ANARCHY TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS: CENTURION AND OLEANDYR REITAN… THE WOKE! MIND! VIRUUUUUUUUUUUUS!
BAMA: Well I am just gobsmacked!
TODD: You know, we were talking at the top of this match about how a lot of people thought this team of the Midnight Stalkers couldn’t be beat, but it just happened!
BAMA: You know Kris is gonna be smartin’ after that miscue from Graves. Can they survive as a unit?
TODD: Remains to be seen my friend. That’s a question for later, right now we have new champions and plenty more action on the way!
The wind whistles across the Golden Gate Bridge as the orange suspension cables disappear into rolling San Francisco fog. Cars sit abandoned in both directions, horns occasionally blaring as bewildered commuters stand atop their vehicles to witness the insanity unfolding. Traffic cones, loose gravel from ongoing construction, abandoned toolboxes, and miles of unforgiving steel and asphalt surround the competitors.
JC: Folks, we’re in for a bizarre one! Jenny Myst is going to battle a mystery opponent in a Golden Gate Bridge Street Fight!
JR: My money’s on Sting! Like the tourist in Jenny’s promo says… Mystery Opponent almost always means Sting!
JC: I don’t even know who that is, Joe!
…
"Sex Metal Barbie" by In This Moment plays as Jenny Myst makes her way to the ring.
The lights drop hard.
A low pink glow bleeds across the arena as the opening pulse of “Sex Metal Barbie” hits—industrial, predatory, unmistakable. The crowd reaction swells immediately, a mix of boos, awe, and uneasy anticipation, because everyone knows what that song means.
Then she steps through the curtain.
Jenny Myst doesn’t rush. She arrives.
Leather gleams under the lights as she pauses at the top of the Golden Gate Bridge, chin tilted slightly upward, eyes scanning the crowd like she’s counting debts. The X-Division Championship, Mortimer, rests over her shoulder—not displayed, not flaunted—carried like a weapon she’s already used tonight. Her expression is calm, almost bored, but there’s cruelty sitting just beneath it, coiled and patient.
On the second beat drop, she rolls her shoulders and starts down the ramp with deliberate, confident strides. Each step syncs with the rhythm—measured, heavy, inevitable. She ignores the fans reaching out, the insults, the chants. Their noise doesn’t register. This isn’t their moment. It’s hers.
JC: Jenny Myst, Her X-Cellency is back in the XWF!
JR: And as confounding as ever! Last time we saw her, she was being nice to her opponent Miss Furry… even though she had her confused with Miss FURY. She seemed more open to the idea of a lady in a cat costume being her peer than most of Furry’s opponents!
JC: We’re seeing Jenny turn over a new leaf… One that’s a little more positive! A little more celebrating her opponents rather than tearing them down! She’s spent her career being told she doesn’t belong and she’s tired of doing that to others!
JR: But don’t mistake that for softness, Jacuinde! Just because Jenny’s trying to be better, that doesn’t mean the Queen of X-Treme can’t still get mean!/white]
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.
Jenny Myst raises the title high—not for the crowd, but for her opponent—eyes cold, posture relaxed, utterly in control.
The music fades.
And suddenly, the Golden Gate Bridge feels smaller.
…
[white]JC: Oh man, the anticipation is killing me!
JR: Who could Jenny’s opponent possibly be? Who could the Trillionaires get that could get even more extreme than the five-time X-Treme cha-
JR: …Ho. Lee. SHIT.
JC: NO WAY! NO WAY!
The show is quickly interrupted by the sound of a distant synthesizer, followed up by horses neighing and galloping through the dirt. It fades out, leading into the riff of a guitar strumming a fiery tune. There's an inherent electricity building within the air of the arena, culminating as the drums kick in. As they do, the steadfast figure of Scoops McGee comes out from the back, a look of no nonsense etched onto his face as he takes a long look at the crowd and the Golden Gate Bridge!
JC: HE’S BACK! Jenny was right, Scoops McGee is BACK!
JR: He won the Universal Title earlier this year, Jacuinde! He won the King of the XWF Tournament! We all thought after that hellacious match with SEB at Leap of Faith that that might be it for Scoops… But he’s here! He’s here and the most extreme man… possibly in wrestling history! Is about to get into a street fight on the Golden Gate Bridge!
JC: This might be one of the few places Scoops hasn’t wrestled before, Joe! History in the making!
He nods, steadily walking to the ring and absentmindedly high-fiving any fans stretching out their hands who happen to be right in his way. He climbs over a barrier. He one last long look at the crowd as they give their reception to the seasoned vet. Scoops stretches his arms out wide, accepting everything they've got to give before stepping onto the bridge deck.
Scoops skulks over to his corner, pacing there and doing some small stretches to keep himself warmed up before the match begins.
…
Scoops McGee narrows his weathered eyes beneath the brim of his battered cowboy hat, the corners of his mouth curling into the faintest grin as his shoulders loosen instead of tensing.
Jenny Myst watches every tiny movement with an amused smirk tugging across her lips, but her eyes never stop moving. Rather than stare directly at Scoops, she flicks quick glances toward the abandoned cars... the construction barriers... the loose gravel... cataloging every available weapon before settling back on her opponent. She casually brushes imaginary dust from her shoulder before raising her hands.
JC: "Ladies and gentlemen... the air is electric right now!! A Golden Gate Bridge Street Fight! No disqualifications, no count-outs, falls count anywhere on this bridge!"
JR: "This is basically legalized insanity. You've got two people that actually know what they're doing in hardcore matches. That's the scary part."
A construction worker hammers on the bridge!
DING DING!
Jenny Myst
- vs -
Scoops McGee Golden Gate Bridge Street Fight
The two veterans begin circling.
Neither rushes.
Neither blinks first.
JC: "Both taking their time advancing… both studying each other’s step and gait before charging in."
JR: "Scoops has four decades of deathmatch wrestling under his belt, but don’t forget! Jenny Myst is a FIVE-TIME X-Treme champion as well! These two have probably forgotten more about hardcore wrestling than most people ever learn.“
Scoops' expression remains patient, though one eyebrow lifts ever so slightly after noticing Jenny repeatedly glance toward the nearby construction equipment. Recognizing exactly what she's doing, he deliberately angles his circling path between Jenny and several promising weapons, quietly forcing her route to become narrower.
JC: Scoops, closing that circle-step, making the dance a little more close quarters!
JR: Logical, Jacuinde! Scoops has a decent-size advantage on Jenny, he doesn’t NEED the unpredictability of a bunch of weapons coming into the mix! If he’s wily, and I know he is, he’s gonna do what he can to keep those weapons from coming into play… Make Jenny beat him in a wrestling match, NOT a street fight!
Jenny's eyes sparkle mischievously as she suddenly lunges—
—but instead of attacking Scoops...
She darts two steps sideways toward an abandoned orange traffic cone.
JC: Jenny takes off!
Scoops immediately pivots to cut her path off.
Scoops side-steps in Jenny’s way…
But, Jenny slides her feet, catching Scoops with a kick to the heel!
JR: "HA! Jenny’s wily!”
JC: “Always calculating! Always trying to take up residence in her opponent’s mind! Jenny saw what Scoops was trying to do and played into his expectations to create an opening for an attack!”
Scoops staggers a step back, stretching his ankle, shaking his hand… It’s clear that kick stung…
Jenny bows dramatically.
JC: Jenny, never one not to lord a minor victory over an opponent…
Scoops' smile fades into focus as decades of ring awareness take over. He charges forward, suddenly advancing directly into her space!
JC: Oh! Scoops might have just caught Jenny off-guard going for a grapple!
Jenny raises her guard, looking to let Scoops sink into a collar and elbow…
…When Scoops suddenly snaps his left forearm toward her chest!
JC: CATTLE PROD!
Jenny's confident grin instantly disappears into razor-sharp concentration as she recognizes the famous left arm beginning to move. Rather than block, she twists her shoulders just enough that the forearm glances harmlessly across her collarbone instead of landing flush.
…Jenny winces, staggering backwards, even just getting glanced by Scoops.
JC: Wow! Jenny managed to block… by my estimates, 80% of that Cattle Prod? And it STILL looked like it took the wind out of her sails!
JR: That’s how deadly Scoops’ McGee’s famous left is… Opponents willingly take right hands from him all day, praying he never uses that left!
The veteran's eyes narrow as Jenny tries to resume a circle step… before he suddenly reaches for a collar-and-elbow tie-up!
JC: Looks like Scoops is done with letting Jenny dip her toe in the water of the match!
JR: Yum yum, come get ya some, Jenny![w/hite]
Jenny plants her feet and surges into the collar-and-elbow tie-up herself, lowering her center of gravity to keep the older veteran from bullying her backward.
Scoops' weathered face hardens into quiet determination…. Recognizing the opening to test the difference in their raw strength, he digs his boots into the steel decking and steadily muscles her backward several feet.
[white]JC: "Scoops winning the power battle!"
JR: "Scoops’ still got farm strength! That's decades of throwing hay bales and wrestling grown men!"
Jenny's eyes dart sideways, measuring the yellow lane divider approaching behind her. Realizing she'll lose the leverage battle if she keeps pushing straight ahead, her expression sharpens with inspiration. Instead of resisting Scoops' momentum, she suddenly pivots her hips, slips underneath one of his arms, and yanks sharply on his wrist.
Scoops instinctively follows the pull—
THWACK!
Jenny whips him over with a crisp arm drag, sending the veteran skidding shoulder-first across the rough pavement.
JC: "Beautiful arm drag by Jenny Myst!"
JR: "If Myst is gonna hang into this one, that’s how she’s gonna do it. Not by overpowering Scoops, but with technique and precision!"
Scoops grimaces as asphalt scrapes across his shoulder, but the pain barely registers in his eyes anymore. Rolling through onto one knee almost before he'd stopped sliding, he wastes no motion rising back toward his feet.
Jenny's lips curl into a confident grin. Seeing Scoops recover so quickly, she bursts forward, springs into the air—
—and wraps both legs around his head.
With a sharp twist of her core, she snaps him over with a tilt-a-whirl headscissors takedown, sending Scoops tumbling across the bridge a second time.
The crowd erupts.
JC: "Back-to-back takedowns from Jenny!"
JR: "She's making him move! That's smart! Every time that sixty-three-year-old body has to pop back up, she's making him spend energy."
Scoops rolls onto all fours, his breathing a touch heavier now.
He explodes forward again…
Jenny's smirk disappears into concentration as she recognizes the sudden acceleration. Expecting another forearm, she instinctively raises her guard high—
Scoops ducks underneath it.
His shoulder drives violently into her ribs.
THUD!
The Among Willows shoulder tackle sends Jenny sprawling backward, her spine bouncing against the steel roadway before she rolls twice to absorb the impact.
JC: "AMONG WILLOWS!"
JR: "He baited her! He knew she'd be waiting for the left forearm!"
Jenny coughs sharply, one arm instinctively wrapping around her ribs as she scrambles back to a knee. Her expression flashes annoyance…
Scoops' face remains completely focused now. Without grandstanding, he strides in, hooks Jenny around the waist, and with a grunt of effort muscles her upright just long enough to sling her over with a rugged back suplex.
Jenny's eyes widen as her boots leave the pavement. Unable to stop the throw, she twists desperately in midair to avoid landing squarely on her neck.
WHAM!
Her back crashes against the bridge deck instead.
She arches in pain before instinct immediately takes over, rolling away before Scoops can capitalize.
JC: "Hard landing!"
JR: “It’s the Golden Gate Bridge, Jacuinde! Everywhere you can land is a hard landing!”
JC: "A lot of experience on display from both of the competitors! Scoops knew exactly how to chain offense together, and Jenny knew staying on the ground would've been even worse."
Jenny pushes herself onto one knee, rubbing at the small of her back. Her breathing steadies. Then... her eyes drift past Scoops.
Not to him.
To the open trunk of an abandoned sedan sitting only twenty feet away.
JC: Uh oh! I think Jenny’s got some ill intent
JR: Literally anything within fifty feet of Jenny is a potential weapon! And there are a whole lot of THINGS on the Golden Gate Bridge!
Jenny's eyes brighten with the unmistakable excitement of opportunity. She suddenly plants one hand on the pavement, spins to her feet, and takes off in a dead sprint toward the abandoned sedan.
Scoops' brow furrows as he catches the direction of her eyes instead of her movement. Scoops, rather than chasing her from behind, instead cuts diagonally across the lane, looking to intercept her path before she reaches the vehicle.
JC: "Scoops isn't following—he's cutting her off!"
JR: "Veteran move! Never chase somebody with thirty years younger knees than you have. Beat 'em to where they're going."
Jenny's confident grin tightens into determination as she notices Scoops taking the shorter route.
JC: Myst sees Scoops is gonna beat her to her destination!
JR: …But, she’s not slowing down! She’s running like a baserunner ready to bowl over the catcher!
Scoops stands in front of the sedan, feet planted, ready to grapple Jenny…
But Myst plants a foot on the sedan's rear bumper and springs upward onto the trunk lid.
CLANG!
The metal caves slightly beneath her boots.
Scoops scrambles to re-adjust as Jenny launches herself from the elevated perch.
She twists through the air—
THUD!
—and crashes into him with a flying Lou Thesz Press, driving both competitors onto the hood of the adjacent car before they spill together onto the asphalt.
JC: "CROSSBODY!"
JR: "She turned the car into a launch pad!"
Jenny's face hardens with urgency. She scrambles on top of McGee and starts raining down a rapid barrage of right hands from the mounted position.
One...
Two...
Three...
Four...
Scoops squints through the blows, one forearm shielding the side of his face.
Jenny reels back, looking for a knockout blow!
…And that second, Scoops suddenly bucks his hips with surprising force!
Jenny's eyes flash with surprise as the veteran's bridge launches her forward just enough.
Scoops immediately rolls through!
JC: Surprisingly agility on display for Scoops McGee! Now he's on top of Myst!
JR: That is NOT where Myst wants to be!
Without hesitation, he drives a stiff right forearm across Jenny's jaw.
SMACK!
Then another across her shoulder.
THWACK!
Jenny winces, her head snapping sideways from the impact.
JC: Myst has gotta do something here! Staying under Scoops eating his strikes is not a recipe for success!
Myst snakes one leg around his ankle and twists sharply.
Scoops' balance disappears beneath him.
Both wrestlers tumble apart once again.
JC: "Back and forth they go!"
JR: "Neither one can hold control for more than a few seconds!"
Jenny rolls beneath the open trunk of the sedan, one hand disappearing inside before Scoops can reach her.
Scoops' expression shifts from determination to caution.
JC: Myst got into the trunk! Scoops is switching gears!
JR: Before his strategy was keep weapons out of her hands… now he’s gotta figure out how to disarm whatever she’s about to come at him with!
She slowly stands, revealing…
A HEAVY STEEL TIRE IRON!
The audience roars.
Scoops exhales slowly through his nose, his eyes locking onto the steel bar. His posture lowers instinctively, left forearm raised, right hand extended.
JC: "Jenny Myst has armed herself!"
JR: "This just got interesting"
Jenny twirls the tire iron once in her hand like a conductor's baton…
Scoops glances at the weapon...
Then toward the construction zone fifty feet behind him.
Scoops' eyes flick across the construction site with practiced calculation. Scoopsabruptly pivots and sprints toward it, boots pounding across the bridge deck.
Jenny's smile widens into something almost predatory. Seeing the hardcore legend voluntarily head toward even more dangerous toys, she doesn't hesitate for a second, immediately giving chase.
JC: "Scoops running for the construction zone!"
JR: "You know what that means? He's got something in mind! This guy spent half his career getting hit with construction equipment!"
Scoops' breathing grows heavier as he reaches a stack of orange traffic cones. Without even looking behind him, he snatches the top cone—
—and whips it backward over his shoulder.
Jenny's eyes narrow as the spinning cone hurtles toward her face. She instinctively swats it aside with the tire iron.
WHACK!
The cone sails harmlessly over the guardrail into the bay below.
But the distraction costs her two steps.
Scoops reaches a waist-high wheelbarrow overflowing with loose gravel.
With both hands, he heaves the handles upward.
FWOOOSH!
A wave of gravel explodes across the roadway like buckshot.
JC: "OH!"
Jenny instinctively throws both arms over her face as hundreds of tiny stones pepper her chest, shoulders, and forehead.
She stumbles blindly—
—and her boots skid on the loose rock.
JR: "That's brilliant! You don't have to knock somebody out if you can make the ground disappear!"
Jenny pinwheels her arms desperately, somehow keeping her footing.
She answers instantly.
With a frustrated yell, she hurls the tire iron like a spear.
Scoops' eyes widen.
He barely manages to duck.
CLANG!
The tire iron whistles past his head and crashes through the windshield of a stranded pickup truck.
Glass rains across the bridge.
The crowd erupts.
JC: "MY GOODNESS!"
JR: "She almost took his head off!"
Scoops looks back at the shattered windshield...
Then back at Jenny.
Jenny's expression tightens as she realizes she's disarmed herself. Before Scoops can capitalize, she dives toward the bed of the pickup she'd just embedded the tire iron into, reaching frantically over the tailgate.
Her fingers close around—
A heavy steel tow chain.
She yanks.
The chain spills into her hands with a violent metallic rattle.
CLANK-CLANK-CLANK-CLANK!
The sound echoes across the Golden Gate Bridge.
JC: "Now she's got a chain!"
JR: "Oh, this is escalating FAST."
Scoops doesn't give her time to admire i
His jaw clenches as he grabs the nearest object within reach—a bright orange sawhorse barricade—and charges.
Jenny's eyes go wide.
Scoops swings the barricade like a battering ram.
CRAAAASH!
The wooden crossbeam explodes across Jenny's ribs, splintering into jagged pieces as she's driven backward against the pickup's tailgate.
The chain slips from her hands.
She doubles over, coughing violently.
JC: "Scoops just broke the barricade over her!"
JR: "That's old-school hardcore! This is classic Japan Scoops McGee shit, Jacuinde!!"
Scoops doesn't pause.
He steps over the shattered lumber, reaching for the fallen chain.
Jenny sees exactly what he's reaching for.
Her face twists with urgency.
She dives too.
Both competitors hit the pavement simultaneously—
Each grabbing a different end.
For a heartbeat...
Neither lets go.
The steel chain stretches tight between them.
Their boots scrape against the asphalt.
Faces contorted.
Neither willing to surrender the weapon.
Then—
Jenny suddenly stops pulling.
Scoops, committed to the tug-of-war, stumbles backward half a step from the unexpected release.
Jenny's eyes flash with cunning.
Instead of fighting for the chain...
She lunges past it.
Driving both boots forward—
THUD!
A running dropkick blasts Scoops square in the chest, knocking him backward into the side of the construction wheelbarrow.
The wheelbarrow tips over.
Shovels.
Picks.
Sledgehammers.
Lengths of rebar.
Everything crashes onto the bridge deck in a deafening avalanche of steel.
The construction tools lay scattered across the Golden Gate Bridge like the aftermath of an explosion.
JC: Oh my! This is no longer a scavenger hunt for the best weapon!
JR: A bunch of deadly implements just dropped directly between Jenny and Scoops! There’s no time to think, just grab something and swing!
Both competitors explode forward.
Jenny's eyes narrow with laser focus as her hand snaps around the handle of a steel pickaxe, immediately whipping it in a vicious horizontal arc aimed for Scoops' ribs.
Scoops' face tightens into concentration. Rather than trying to absorb a shot that could end the match outright, he lunges inside the swing, catching Jenny's wrists before the pickaxe can build momentum.
CLANG!
The pickaxe skips harmlessly across the asphalt as Scoops wrenches it free and flings it over the bridge railing.
It disappears into the fog.
JC: "Scoops disarmed her!"
JR: "That's forty years of hardcore wrestling! Sometimes the smartest move isn't taking the weapon—it's making sure nobody gets it!"
Jenny's expression flashes with frustration—but only for a heartbeat.
Scoops immediately stoops and snatches up a long-handled sledgehammer, muscles tensing as he rears back for a match-ending swing.
Jenny's eyes widen.
She doesn't retreat.
She steps inside.
Just as the hammer begins to descend, she drives both palms into the wooden handle.
The head of the sledgehammer crashes harmlessly into the pavement.
BOOOOM!
The impact reverberates through the bridge.
Before Scoops can recover, Jenny twists sharply.
The sledgehammer rips free from his hands.
It skids away beneath a stranded SUV.
JC: "Jenny stole it right out of his hands!"
JR: "Nobody wants to be on the receiving end of that thing!"
JC: “Impressive work by Jenny borrowing Scoops’ counter right after he used it on her!”
Jenny doesn't hesitate.
Her lips curl into a determined grin as she scoops a pipe wrench into her grasp.
With a yell, she swings for Scoops' shoulder.
Scoops' weathered eyes remain locked on her hips instead of the hammer itself. Reading the swing a split-second early, he steps through the arc and drives a stiff left forearm into Jenny's biceps.
THWACK!
Pain shoots through her arm.
Her fingers involuntarily open.
The wrench tumbles free!
JC: "CATTLE PROD TO THE ARM!"
JR: "He hit the muscle! Her hand just gave out!"
Jenny folds in half with a strangled gasp, dropping to one knee as her opposite arminstinctively wrap around her...
Scoops exhales deeply, recognizing the opening he'd been searching for.
Scoops reaches down, wrapping one powerful arm around Jenny's waist while his other hooks between her legs.
Jenny's face is twisted in agony, every breath a struggle.
But through half-lidded eyes...
She notices something.
A construction shovel.
Lying beside her boot.
Hope flickers across her face.
Scoops grunts as he begins to lift.
Jenny can't lift her torso...
But she can still move one leg.
With every ounce of strength she has left, she lashes her boot forward.
THUNK!
The blade stays planted.
The wooden handle rockets upward like a spring-loaded trap.
CRACK!
The end of the handle smashes directly beneath Scoops' jaw.
His head snaps violently backward.
His eyes glaze.
His grip loosens.
JC: "THE SHOVEL!"
JR: "OH, THAT'S GENIUS!"
Scoops staggers backward in a daze, instinctively clutching at his jaw.
Jenny's expression transforms in an instant.
She surges forward before Scoops can regain his bearings, slipping one arm around his head while trapping his far arm.
Jenny spins.
Plants.
And drives him down.
PINK PERFECTION!
JC: PINK PERFECTION! JENNY HIT IT! OH MY GOD!
The Sister Abigail DDT spikes Scoops headfirst onto the unforgiving steel-and-asphalt deck of the Golden Gate Bridge.
THAAAAAM!
Neither wrestler moves.
The referee dives into position.
ONE!
Scoops' fingers twitch.
TWO!
One shoulder rolls weakly...
...but not enough.
THREE!
DING! DING! DING!
Winner: Jenny Myst!
JC: "SHE GOT HIM! SHE GOT HIM!"
JR: "What a finish! Scoops had the match won! One split-second! One shovel handle! That's all it took!"
Jenny remains on both knees beside Scoops, breathing so hard she can barely lift her head. Sweat, dust, and pain cover her face, but after several long seconds...
She raises her arm to the crowd who scream her name with delight.
Charlie Nickels and Jordan Penn are already in the ring, holding the stolen tag team title belts for themselves. Charlie refuses to look at Jordan, however.
Her ring music plays and she is appalled by the reaction the fans give her as she heads to the ring, and she spends a lot of needless time arguing with the fans. Eventually she gets in the ring, does her artsy pose, and bows though the fans don't deserve it.
[rld2]
The arena lighting dims to black. Pink and silver lightning streak across the screen.
"She went bad
Made her pretty little world turn black
Miss perfect never had a chance
Threw a middle finger up
She's heading to hell anyway"
Twin pink sparkly spotlights hit the entryway as Remi skips out from behind the curtains. She pauses at the top of the ramp, tossing her hair over her shoulder, scanning the screaming audience before her. With a smile, she scampers down towards the ring as the spotlights follow. Once there, she grabs ahold of a post, swinging around it while blowing a kiss to the camera.
She hops up onto the apron and rolls over the top rope. She crosses to the other side, giving a little shimmy dance as she does. She nimbly leaps onto the turnbuckle, lifting both hands over her head and flashing a cocky grin. The spotlights cut out, the lighting strobing pink and silver before returning to normal as Remi steps down onto the mat.
JC: Well, Joe, we’ve got all four challengers in the ring right now waiting for the tag team title match to start, and you can already feel the tensions reaching a fever pitch.
JR: A lot of hatred and animosity are just boiling over after how the past few weeks have gone. You know something, these teams can’t wait to beat the shit out of each other, and I can’t wait to see it happen! But they gotta worry about the… well… I guess we have to call them the champions.
Darkness claims the stage as the fans pop.
A monochrome spotlight shines upon the stage.
…
In a world… of the Xtreme.
JR: What the Hell’s going on?!
JC: I feel like I’ve heard that voice before…
Two Clowns have found themselves locked in the perpetual struggle to bring truth and humor alike to a decaying world.
Thieves and criminals run everywhere without a second thought. Though the Clowns’ gold may have been stolen, they cannot take their dignity.
And so our heroes will drive forth to continue the endless fight against crime. And with them will come the trials and tribulations brought forth by tables, ladders… and whoopee cushions.
A small, miniature Rolls Royce rolls out onto the stage.
The door of the Rolls Royce opens as the spotlight fades to black for a moment.
These are… your Tag Team champions… the Noir Clown and the Southern Gentleman Detective Clown.
The spotlight returns as the two clowns stand on stage together, looking out over the arena as they keep stony expressions. Noir Clown holds a whoopee cushion in his hand, tossing it in his grip menacingly as the pair walk down the ramp towards the ring.
JR: This is ridiculous…
JC: This is our Tag Team champs! And say what you will about the Clowns, but they earned their belts fair and square, and both Noir and Southern Gentleman Detective Clown look more than ready to try and defend it here tonight.
JR: It wasn’t even those two dorks that won the title in the first place! I remember when the Freebird rule used to be a big deal! And you could only switch out ONE partner at a time!
JC: Well, I guess management doesn’t seem to have the same viewpoint…
Both Noir and SGD Clown enter the ring as Noir hands the whoopee cushion off to his partner. The lights come back on as all teams look ready to do battle.
The fans explode into a raucous fervor as the match looks to get underway!
JC: And we’re off, folks! This one’s got a lot on the line, and not just the tag team gold. Korvayne and Charlie Nickles look to settle the first stage of their blood feud here and now, and the Clowns are all too eager to try and punish both Nickles and Penn for their acts of thievery just the other week.
JR: The fact that the Clowns somehow got involved with this just feels so… baffling.
JC: Be that as it may, they’re here, and they’re just as determined as the others to make the most of this chance.
All three teams stare daggers at each other from their own corners, before finally, Jordan Penn makes the first move to step right towards the center of the ring, a confident grin right on his face.
JC: Penn very confident in the early going here, him and Charlie the most accomplished team in this match together and they’re looking to only add onto that resume here in the early going-
JR: Look out!
CHARLIE NICKLES PULLS JORDAN PENN AROUND AND NAILS HIM WITH A DEVIL HOOK DROP!
JC: EXCUSE ME?!
THE FANS ARE STUNNED SILENT! BOTH THE CLOWNS AS WELL AS KORVAYNE AND REMI WATCH DUMBFOUNDED AS JORDAN PENN ROLLS OUT OF THE RING, STARING BACK AT CHARLIE!
CHARLIE ROLLS OUT OF THE RING IN PURSUIT! HE LANDS HUGE, CLUBBING BLOWS ON PENN AS THE TWO QUICKLY BEGIN TO BRAWL AT RINGSIDE!
JR: Where the Hell is all this coming from?! Penn and Nickels, they’ve been… they’ve been united! Always! Now all of a sudden though they’re trying to maim each other like animals!
JC: I wish I had an answer for you, Joe, I really did! I don’t think anybody saw this coming!
Penn paintbrushes Charlie across the face with a loud slap, leading to Charlie only getting more irate as he grabs Penn by the neck and literally BIEL THROWS HIM OVER THE BARRICADE! Fans bolt out of their seats as Penn crashes into the front row of seats, gritting his teeth as he does!
Charlie reaches over the barricade, hooking Penn by both of his arms to drape him across the metal guard rail…
A SECOND DEVIL HOOK DROP! THIS ONE HITS RIGHT ON THE BARELY-PADDED FLOOR OUTSIDE AS PENN FALLS LIMP!
The ringside medical crew quickly swoops in, checking on Jordan Penn as Charlie Nickels angrily storms off to the back!
JC: I guess that’s one less team for the others to worry about in this match!
JR: I guess if Charlie had to turn on his own partner… this was probably the time to do it. He’s got that huge match for the TV and Xtreme title right after this! And Korv’s still gotta put herself through the wringer, even if it is only against the Clowns!
JC: You really don’t give them enough credit, don’t you? But speaking of the Clowns…
Noir Clown and Southern Gentleman Detective Clown watch the scene from inside the ring, Noir passing SGD a pair of bubble pipes that they both puff from, slowly filling the arena with a steady stream of bubbles.
JR: Though I guess I should ask… if the thieves took themselves out, doesn’t that mean the detectives’ jobs are done?
JC: I don’t think it’s that simple, Joe.
Korvayne and Remi quickly rush up behind the Clowns! A pair of dropkicks to the Clowns’ backs sends them tumbling outside of the ring, right as the medics begin to escort Jordan Penn to the back! Korv and Remi share a look with each other, before Remi quickly bolts right off the ropes!
She runs right back towards Korv, who proceeds to back body drop her right over the ropes! She’s got both clowns right in her sights…
BUT SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN DETECTIVE CLOWN PRODUCES THE WHOOPEE CUSHION FROM BEFORE AND THROWS IT RIGHT AT THE FLYING REMI!
PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBFT!
REMI GETS SNIPED OUT OF THE AIR AS SHE LANDS AWKWARDLY ON THE MAT!
JR: Was that whoopee cushion loaded or something? Remi just got nailed!
JC: Loaded with laughs, judging from some of the fans’ expressions…
JR: Har-har-har.
Korvayne quickly realizes what happened as she turns irate! She slides out of the ring, and immediately makes a beeline for Southern Gentleman Detective Clown! SGD quickly gets moving around the ring, moving in circles as Korv tries to close the distance!
It’s a game of cat-and-mouse, but a hand quickly wraps around Korvayne’s ankle!
It’s Noir Clown! He’s under the ring! And he’s trying to pull Korvayne underneath!
Korvayne quickly topples over as she tries to hold onto the ringside floor for dear life! But she can’t help herself as Noir Clown manages to pull her right underneath the apron!
The ring begins to violently shake and thrash about as these two are going at it, blow-for-blow, right underneath the ring!
JR: Makes me wish I could see what the Hell is going on under there right about now…
JC: Well, we may not be able to see it, but folks I promise you judging from the noises coming out of there right now, they’re trying to kill each other inside of there!
A long moment passes before both Korvayne and Noir Clown exit the ring on opposite sides. Korvayne is covered in chocolate pies and Noir Clown has had his fancy suit torn in several places, and for some strange reason, both of them are dripping wet with water.
JR: Did we have a bucket in there or something?
JC: No… but I think Noir Clown had one of those fancy water flowers with him.
JR: Oh, give me a break…
SGD Clown quickly makes his way to his partner, pulling out his trusty magnifying glass as he tries to inspect all the damage Noir Clown took underneath the ring! Things look dire for him, until Remi Storm comes out of nowhere with a ladder, proceeding to batter it right into SGD Clown to send him flying halfway across ringside!
JC: Great timing from Remi Storm! Remember folks, it’s Tables, Ladders and Whoopee Cushions. The titles are suspended right above the ring as we speak!
JR: Finally, it looks like we’ve got some real wrestling on again.
Remi wastes no time as she rolls right into the center of the ring, setting the ladder up as she quickly begins to scale the rungs! The fans ooh as they realize this match might have a quick end!
But SGD Clown sees what’s going on! He produces a small box with a hand crank as he rolls right into the ring in pursuit, steadily turning the crank as Remi continues climbing! But SGD Clown goes right underneath the ladder, standing up in the middle as Remi looks down to see what’s going on!
SGD points the box right through the opening in the rungs!
IT’S AN EXTEND-O-GLOVE! The sudden boxing glove nails Remi right on the nose as she topples off of the ladder, landing right in the ropes!
JR: There is no way that just happened.
JC: Well Joe, the truth hurts! Just like that sudden shot from that boxing glove sure hurt Remi Storm!
SGD Clown looks to follow up as he runs towards Remi, but Remi tugs the top rope down to try and take SGD’s legs out from under him! SGD holds onto the ropes before he could hit the floor however as he hits Remi with a facebuster from the apron!
Remi lands right on her ass, fighting to get back up to her feet! SGD enters the ring, but Korvayne slides right back into the ring! She hops onto the ladder and leaps off to hit SGD Clown with a Springboard Hurricanrana! The move sends SGD Clown flying outside of the ring now as he regroups with Noir Clown!
JC: It looks like the Clowns are quickly trying to discuss some strategy here!
JR: Remi and Korvayne can’t waste any time! They gotta climb the ladder and get those belts before the Clowns… I dunno… booby-trap them or something!
Both of the Clowns rush into the ring once more!
SGD Clown quickly gets into a brawl with Remi Storm as both Korvayne and Noir Clown try and scale the ladder!
Korv throws a punch towards Noir Clown!
Ducked! Noir reached up to grab Korv by the back of her neck, slamming her right down against the metal ladder!
The act only seems to anger Korvayne though as she rises up, hammering Noir with a punch! And another! And one more!
JR: She’s going at that stupid clown up there! Hit him harder!
JC: Joe, what happened to unbiased commentary?
JR: …I may or may not have had a few traumatic experiences with clowns in my childhood.
Korvayne tries for one last punch to hit Noir right off of the ladder, but Noir surges forward! He reaches towards Korvayne, putting a pastel pink clown noise right on her face! He honks it-
PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBFT!
JR: WAS THAT A WHOOPEE CUSHION CLOWN NOSE?!
JC: It sure was! And Korvayne looks horrified!
Korvayne instinctively leaps off of the ladder to get away from Noir, landing on her feet as she rips the clown nose off of her and throws it out into the crowd! Remi goes to check on Korv as the two talk it over, before SGD Clown batters both Remi and Korvayne with a table!
But it’s no ordinary table…
IT’S A TRAMPOLINE TABLE!
JR: There’s only so much I think I can take with this match, Jack…
JC: Oh come on, Joe, lighten up! Sports doesn’t have to always be the uber-serious fights to the death! I’m enjoying myself, at least!
SGD Clown sets up the trampoline table, making sure it’s sturdy as he snaps his fingers!
The lights go out!
And a monochrome spotlight shines in the middle of the ring, showing Noir Clown descending down the ladder!
We return with our brave and honorable clown heroes continuing their advance against the forces of crime and evil that lurk within San Francisco.
JR: It’s that weird guy speaking again!
JC: Oh, I just realized who it was! It’s Grizzled 1960’s Narrator Clown! I’m such a huge fan!
JR: Huge fan my ass, you didn’t even realize who it was when they were making their entrance!
The Noir Clown. The Southern Gentleman Detective Clown. These two brothers have found themselves with their backs against the wall, facing an old enemy that goes against everything Clownkind has built itself upon.
They hate the whoopee cushions.
They hate the cream pies.
They hate the circus.
They hate fun.
And if there’s one kind of criminal these clowns hate, it’s always the kind who hates fun. For they never forgot how that dastardly Korvayne attacked and assaulted those dozens of clowns shortly after she made her debut in the XWF, and now she’s brought backup for herself.
But it’s nothing the power of Clownkind can’t fix. For our heroes will run and jump off their ready-made trampoline to-
DOUBLE DROPKICK TO THE FLYING NOIR AND SGD CLOWNS TAKE THEM OUT!
The lights return back to normal as both Clowns are feeling the pain!
JR: We don’t have to listen to that guy anymore, Jack! We’re saved!
JC: Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself right about now…
Noir Clown is the first to bring himself back up to his feet as he walks forward, but Remi is right there as she yoinks Noir Clown up and pivots!
JC: STORMCHASER THROUGH THE TABLE! Remi just slammed Noir Clown so hard I’m surprised there’s not a crater in the middle of the ring right about now!
JR: We might be about to see the sunlight after all!
There’s no more time to waste! Korvayne climbs the ladder once more as Remi cheers her on! Korvayne is just inches away from grabbing the gold…
BUT WAIT! SGD Clown is at the other end of the ladder, looking to push it forward to tip it over and send Korvayne spilling out of the ring!
JC: Korvayne’s about to have a hard date with that unforgiving ring mat outside!
Not so fast though! Remi grabs the opposite end of the ladder and pushes against SGD Clown, helping to stabilize the ladder and slowly bring it back to a regular position!
JR: What a good partner Remi Storm is!
The two are stuck in a tug-of-war, with Korvayne in the middle! She’s tipping and teetering while holding onto the ladder for dear life, her free hand reaching towards the gold in vain! She just can’t close the distance in time before being dragged right off again!
JC: Something’s gotta give right about now!
SGD Clown reaches into his jacket, producing yet another whoopee cushion! He throws it right at Remi from down below!
BUT REMI CATCHES THE WHOOPEE CUSHION! SHE THROWS IT RIGHT BACK AT SGD CLOWN!
BUT HE SIDESTEPS IT AS IT LANDS RIGHT BESIDE HIM AFTER BOUNCING OFF THE ROPES!
JR: Guess those whoopee cushions aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.
Korvayne’s had just about enough of this though as she stares down at SGD Clown from the heavens!
AND SHE LEAPS OFF OF THE LADDER!
TO NAIL SGD CLOWN WITH A FALLING DDT RIGHT ONTO THE WHOOPEE CUSHION!!!!!!!!
PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBFT!
JR: I TAKE BACK WHAT I JUST SAID!
JC: MALIBU’S MOST WANTED! MALIBU’S MOST WANTED! KORVAYNE JUST ABSOLUTELY ANNIHILATED SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN DETECTIVE CLOWN AT THE COST OF HER OWN BODY!
JR: But nobody else is up in the ring except for Remi!
Remi quickly realizes it’s her time! She doesn’t waste any time as she moves up the rungs! She reaches the top of the ladder as the fans whoop and holler for her…
And…
SHE GRABS THE TITLES!
WINNERS AND NEEEEEEEEEEEEW XWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS: REMI STORM AND THE GREAT KORVAYNE… THE ART FOUNDATION!
Charlie Nickles hobbles down the ramp, looking pissed the fuck off.
Her ring music plays and she is appalled by the reaction the fans give her as she heads to the ring, and she spends a lot of needless time arguing with the fans. Eventually she gets in the ring, does her artsy pose, and bows though the fans don't deserve it.
[rld2]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZ31xb1NVy8
The arena descends into a kaleidoscope of strobe lights of various colors, inducing feelings of disorientation and illness in everyone present as the unsettling beat of “SICKO” by Health and Godflesh starts to play. The main screens come alive with a montage of eerie imagery of death, graphic pornography, blood, surgical scenes, and occult imagery (see the video for SICKO for an idea of what you’re seeing), interspersed with the words “DO AS THOU WILT”, “SODOMIZE THE INNOCENT”, “DO CRIMES” and “BE EVIL” throughout the imagery almost like subliminal messaging.
Samael Dyson hits the stage, flanked by Kristoffer Arroyo and a score of his sack wearing Insignificants. He's wearing a wrestling singlet with images of various sex acts airbrushed onto it. He orders the Insignificants to lay down in front of him and he walks on them like a human bridge as he makes his way to the ring. He slides under the bottom rope as Kristoffer Arroyo stands at ringside. Sam then vigorously humps the canvas, screeching like a lunatic at the camera before getting to his feet and pacing the mat, muttering to himself and yelling at the fans in the front row.
[white[JC: Folks, we’ve got three wildcards in the ring right now! Anything could hap-... Huh! The match hasn’t even started yet and the crowd is already buzzing like they’re anticipating the finish!
JR: …Oh my God! I see someone in the crowd![/white]
Cheering rises suddenly, inexplicably, amidst the ongoing buzz from the fans, but it doesn't register with the three competitors in the ring, their minds glued to their respective tasks at hand. The referee pauses to glance around curiously, then returns attention to getting the match started.
The ovation reaches a fever pitch now, Korvayne and Dyson taking note as their eyes scan out into the crowd, unable to locate the source of the excitement. Charlie as well notices while he takes a step back in close proximity to the ropes-
Charlie falls forward, dropping face first to the mat, and is pulled beneath the bottom ropes by his legs down to ringside, landing awkwardly on his feet. He spins to see
Jim.
Caedus.
The former two-time Uni Champ and legendary APEX stable member now revealed on the XTron to the entire arena, the fans explode.
A quick stiff kick to Charlie's gut, Jim then snatches him by the left arm and turns to violently whip him into the guardrail behind them both.
Wasting no time as Charlie crashes into the guardrail back-first, Jim closes the distance and grabs him by the throat with his right hand, pushing and bending him backward over the railing, Chuck's feet leaving the floor.
Korvayne and Dyson are now staring, as is the ref who begins shouting at Caedus from the ring but is ignored.
Jim, exerting enough pressure in choking Chucky that the latter's face begins to flush red, leans in, the cameraman rushing in to catch the action and Jim's words...
"Didja name-drop me, Cucky!? HUH!? Didja think I wouldn't fuckin' respond!? Whadja say!? I couldn't protect Ly!? Izzat whatcha said!? Y'fuckin' pissin' on my name wit' bullshit claims, cocksucker!?"
Charlie retorts by somehow managing to spit directly in Jim's face. The fans react with an "OOOH!!".
Jim releases his grip on Nickle's neck and takes a step back to wipe away the spittle as Charlie's feet return to the floor as he coughs hard and dry heaves, gagging-
-an instant before Jim, eyes flashing in rage, kicks Nickles HARD between the legs commanding a second "OOOH!" from the fans before Jim takes a single step forward, slaps both hands to either side of Charlie's head and nails him in the forehead with his
P
O
I
N
T
B
L
A
N
K
headbutt!
Dazed, Charlie is clearly seeing stars and out on his feet.
At this point the ref slides out and berates Caedus, ordering him to leave. Jim grabs Charlie and leads him to the ring, rolling him back in under the ropes, then turns to the ref and raises his hands. He looks to Charlie on the ring mat-
"This ain't over, Chuckles, you flippant fat fuck!"
The ref orders, "OUT! NOW!"
Jim continues raising his hands and backs up, flashes a glance at Dyson, hits him with a smirk, then levels a gaze at Korvayne, dropping the smirk to levy a subtle shake of the head before turning and making his exit, walking to and up the ramp. His music hits as he departs.
The fans erupt as the addition of "Wendy, I'm home" in the entrance music delivers a definitive statement: Jim Caedus is back in the XWF.
The ref, having had more than enough of the disruption, signals to the back to cut the music and returns attention to starting the match.
JC: HOLY SHIT! Jim Caedus is back?!?
JR: And he attacked Charlie before the match started! I thought this match had everyone who wants a piece of Charlie, but Jim Caedus showed up from… wherever he’s been! To take a big chunk out of Charlie’s ass before the match started!
Charlie waves off any offer to get medically checked before the match starts… and the bell rings!
(Fall One) 15 Minute Time Limit Triple Threat for the Television Title
(Fall Two) X-Treme Rules for the X-Treme Title
JR: Charlie Nickles. Samael Dyson. Korvayne. Three of the most unpredictable, dangerous and frankly unhinged people on this roster. No rules on weapons, no mercy, and somebody in that match is going home empty handed. I genuinely don't know who that is going to be.
JC: Let's find out.
The bell rings and all three of them forget the concept of a feeling out process entirely. Nickles goes straight for Samael with a body punch that folds him at the waist, and Korvayne immediately springboards off the middle rope and hits Nickles with a forearm from behind that staggers the big man forward. Nickles turns and eats a spinning backfist that barely moves him, then grabs Korvayne by the hair and launches her across the ring with a beal toss that sends her rolling. Samael, recovering, rakes Nickles across the eyes with both hands and drives a headbutt into the bridge of his nose.
JC: Nobody waited a second. This is already a war.
Samael drops to the floor and pulls a steel chair from beneath the ring, slides it in, and rolls in after it. Nickles grabs the chair first. Samael doesn't care. He pokes Nickles in the eye, takes the chair back, and drives the seat down across Nickles' spine with a crash that echoes through the arena. Nickles barely moves. He turns around and headbutts Samael, who falls backward into Korvayne, who was climbing the turnbuckle, and all three of them collapse into the corner in a heap.
Nickles is first up. He peels Korvayne off the pile, drives a running turnbuckle knee into the seated Samael, then turns and slams Korvayne face first into the top turnbuckle pad. He grabs the chair from the mat and drives the rim of it directly across Samael's throat as Dyson tries to stand, a vicious and targeted shot that sends Samael clutching at his neck against the buckle. Nickles covers.
ONE.
TWO.
Korvayne breaks it with a missile dropkick to the back of Nickles' head from the top rope.
JR: Missile dropkick from Korvayne breaking up the pin and saving Samael Dyson, who absolutely does not deserve the save.
Korvayne runs Dropkick City on Nickles while he tries to rise. Standing dropkick connects clean. Running dropkick as he stumbles back. Springboard dropkick sends him into the ropes. She climbs the buckle for the missile dropkick to complete the sequence and Nickles catches her clean out of the air, driving her down into the canvas with a scoop powerslam that shakes the ring. He reaches down and picks the chair back up.
He swings it at Samael. Samael ducks and it clangs off the top rope. He swings it at Korvayne. She rolls away. He swings a third time at Samael, this time connecting flush across the shoulder, and the impact spins Samael sideways across the canvas where he comes to rest in a twitching heap. Nickles drops the chair flat, hauls Samael up, and drives him down across the steel with a big sidewalk slam that sends a shockwave through every person watching.
JC: THE SIDEWALK SLAM ONTO THE CHAIR! Samael Dyson is broken in half!
Cover.
ONE.
TWO.
Samael gets his leg to the rope.
Nickles stands and retrieves a second chair from ringside, setting the two of them up seat to seat beside each other while Korvayne recovers in the far corner and Samael writhes on the mat. He drags Samael up by the singlet and hooks him for the Steubenville Screwdriver.
Korvayne charges in from behind and low blows Nickles, who buckles enough for Samael to slip free, spin around and drive a knee directly into Nickles' nose. Blood starts immediately, a thin stream running down into Nickles' graying beard, and rather than bother him it seems to animate something behind his eyes. He spits blood on the canvas and grins.
JR: Charlie Nickles is bleeding and he appears to be enjoying it.
Samael goes to vomit on Nickles, the Bouquet of Roses, wretching forward, and Nickles simply steps aside, grabs Samael by the back of the head and drives his own face into the chairs with a DDT that sends him through both seats with a catastrophic crunch of metal. Samael is opened up now too, a wide cut across his forehead pouring freely as he rolls off the wreckage of the chairs. Nickles turns into a crossbody from Korvayne that sends both of them into the ropes.
She scrambles up and goes to the floor, pulling a singapore cane from beneath the ring and sliding back in. Nickles takes one shot across the back that buckles his knee. A second across the shoulders. A third across the spine. She runs the ropes and drives the cane edge first into the back of Nickles' neck on the rebound. He goes down to one knee. She covers with the cane across his chest.
ONE.
TWO.
Nickles powers her off with both arms.
JC: You'd need significantly more than that to put Charlie Nickles away.
JR: She knows it too. She's buying time and waiting for her moment.
Samael, bleeding freely and delighted by the fact, slides out to the floor and reaches beneath the ring apron, producing a steel gauntlet passed to him by an Insignificant who materializes from ringside and vanishes just as quickly. Nickles sees it too late. Samael drives the gauntlet across Nickles' jaw with a swing that connects like a car door slamming shut. Nickles drops face first to the canvas. Samael tosses the gauntlet out of the ring before the referee registers it.
JC: Something came from that Insignificant at ringside! I don't know what it was but Nickles went down hard!
Korvayne, ever watching, ever calculating, capitalizes without a moment's hesitation. She hooks Nickles into Malibu's Most Wanted, the DDT driving his skull into the mat dead center. She stays on top.
ONE.
TWO.
THREE.
JC: CHARLIE NICKLES IS ELIMINATED! KORVAYNE SENDS NICKLES OUT OF THIS MATCH FIRST!
JR: Charlie Nickles is out and now it comes down to Samael Dyson and Korvayne. The winner of this fall walks away Xtreme Champion. The loser gets the Television title and a very long night of thinking about what could have been.
Nickles rolls to the floor slowly, leaving a smear of blood across the canvas on his way out. The referee ushers him back. He sits at ringside, head back, watching through blood-soaked eyes as the two remaining competitors take stock of each other across the wreckage. The canvas is already marked red. Both chairs are destroyed. The cane sits in the corner like an invitation.
Samael smiles at Korvayne.
She does not smile back.
He charges and goes immediately for the eye rake, but she ducks under his outstretched hand and drives an atomic drop that jolts him forward, following with a snap suplex that deposits him hard on the canvas. She picks up the cane and drives it across his spine twice before he can rise. Then a third time across the back of his knees. Samael laughs at the third shot, which is the wrong response and the exact response anyone who has watched him would expect.
JC: He is laughing. She is hitting him with a cane and he is laughing.
JR: I genuinely don't know how you plan for that.
Korvayne stares at the laughing, bleeding man on the canvas and makes the sensible decision, which is to hit him with the cane again harder. She drops it, climbs the buckle, and lands a fist drop directly across the open cut on his forehead. Blood sprays. She covers.
ONE.
TWO.
Samael kicks out, still grinning.
She hauls him up and drives him into the corner, unloading with a stinger splash, then a running bulldog out of the buckle that spikes his face into the mat. She rolls him over for the cover.
ONE.
TWO.
Samael rolls the shoulder up.
Samael uses the ropes to stand and catches Korvayne charging in with a thumb to the eye, then hooks her into his sloppy sitout piledriver that drives her crown into the canvas hard enough to draw a genuine wince from ringside. He drops across her.
ONE.
TWO.
Korvayne gets the shoulder up.
He drags her to the corner and hangs her in the tree of woe, upside down and helpless, before launching a series of boots into her midsection that draw counts from the referee. He stops at four, picks up the wrecked remnants of a chair, and drives the bent steel across Korvayne's ribs twice before the referee physically intervenes. Samael backs off with his hands up, entirely unconcerned, and Korvayne drops out of the corner clutching her side.
Samael goes to the floor and retrieves the gauntlet again from where he discarded it. The Insignificant at ringside has recovered it. He slides it back on his right hand and climbs back into the ring while the referee is checking on Korvayne, lining her up for the Flaming Thumper Heart Punch!
A second Insignificant produces a lighter at ringside and Samael leans through the ropes to let the gauntlet catch. It blazes. Samael turns back to a rising Korvayne with a flaming right fist and murder in his eyes.
He charges.
Korvayne drops flat and Samael's momentum carries him past her and chest first into the corner, the flaming gauntlet connecting with the turnbuckle instead of her skull. He yelps, pulling the burning gauntlet off and shaking it loose, and Korvayne is up and running, driving a high knee into the back of his head that drives his face into the buckle pad a second time. She pulls him out, hooks his arm, and drops him with a jawbreaker on the way through.
JC: Korvayne avoiding the flaming gauntlet and now she is on him!
She runs Dropkick City again, this time on a man who is bleeding from his forehead and stumbling around the ring. Standing dropkick. Running dropkick. Springboard dropkick. She goes up top for the missile dropkick and this time nobody catches her, the fourth hit landing clean and sending Samael sliding across the canvas into the far ropes. She covers with everything she has.
ONE.
TWO.
Samael's foot finds the rope.
Korvayne slaps the mat with frustration, stands, and locks in the Birth of Venus, the inverted Figure Four applied in the center of the ring where Samael has no ropes to reach.
He howls. He reaches back and tries to claw at her face and she leans away from the grasping hand, keeping her body angled, maintaining pressure.
At ringside, three Insignificants climb to the apron simultaneously. The referee rushes to deal with them. While his back is turned Samael stares deep into Korvayne's eyes and unleashes From the Depths, the mesmerizing stare that has frozen opponents cold.
Korvayne holds eye contact. She does not freeze.
She cranks the submission harder instead.
Samael screams. His hand reaches for a weapon that isn't there. He tries the stare a second time and Korvayne looks away entirely, breaking the visual connection and driving her weight down into the hold. Two of the Insignificants drop off the apron. The third gets knocked off by the referee. Samael's fingers claw at the canvas, finding nothing, his body twisting against a hold that has nowhere to go. He reaches for the wrecked chair nearby and Korvayne kicks it away before his fingers close around it.
JR: She is neutralizing every single thing Samael has. She's not letting him breathe and she is not making eye contact.
JC: Smart. The smartest thing she's done all match. Just don't look at him.
Samael attempts to vomit from the pain, the Bouquet of Roses deployed purely out of desperation and spite, and Korvayne releases the hold out of sheer instinct, scrambling away before anything lands. She is up immediately, measuring him as he rolls to his knees in a mess of blood and bile and broken dignity. She springs off the top rope with the Picasso Punch, the Superman punch launching at full height and connecting flush across Samael's jaw with a sound that carries to every corner of the arena. Samael goes down like the lights have been cut.
Korvayne drops across him, hooks both legs, and stares at the ceiling.
ONE.
TWO.
THREE.
JC: KORVAYNE WINS! KORVAYNE IS YOUR NEW XWF XTREME CHAMPION!
JR: The Picasso Punch ends it! She just beat Charlie Nickles and Samael Dyson in the same night with blood on her arm and weapons all around her and she did not blink once. That is a hell of a statement.
Korvayne gets to her feet and the referee hands her the Xtreme Championship. She holds it out in front of her with both hands, staring at it. Then she raises it. The crowd responds, the reaction complicated by the fact that they have never been asked to cheer for her before and she has never asked them to. She doesn't ask now either. She just holds the championship up and lets it speak for itself.
At ringside, Samael Dyson is presented with the Television Championship. He takes it without looking at it, his eyes fixed on Korvayne in the ring, blood still running down his face. He turns the Television title over in his hands slowly, examining it, and the expression on his face is not the expression of a man who has made peace with second place.
As Nirvana's Tourette's blares through the loudspeakers, the cameras pan around the arena before finally spotting Frances Marigold
He appears in the stands, smoking a cigarette, jamming out with the fans. He cracks open a can of beer pours it down his throat before heading to the ring.
Bama: It’s Frances FRICKIN’ Marigold! One of the most X-treme members of the roster, coming down to the ring to handle business tonight!
Todd: Miss Furry is going to have her hands full with Frances! Marigold has become an ENIGMA, and a fan-favorite: and it’s because he’s pretty…it’s because of the damage he can do in that ring! And frankly, the damage he can do all around the entire ringside area!
Bama: Miss Kitty had better watch out tonight, because her Anarchy title is in Frances’ sights!
Frances yanks a table out from under the ring apron before he's even reached ringside and shoves it under the bottom rope ahead of him.
Todd: He's already brought a table into this and the bell hasn't rung yet!
Bama: There is no such thing as "too early" for Frances Marigold.
The lights dim as the opening drums of She's My Collar roll through the arena. Miss Furry steps out slowly, but doesn’t acknowledge the crowd.
She calmly walks the ramp and slips between the ropes with minimal effort. She settles into the corner, leaning back casually, licking her paw and cleaning herself in preparation of the upcoming match.
Todd: And here comes the Anarchy Champion herself, Miss Furry! She has been a dominant force ever since she stepped into Micheal Graves’ tutelage!
Bama: She’s one bad alley cat, Todd- that’s for sure! She has cruised right past everyone who’s challenged her for that Anarchy Championship, but tonight she faces her biggest challenge yet!
The bell rings and Frances charges across the ring immediately, no lockup, no feeling out, just a shoulder tackle that sends Miss Furry into the corner hard. She slips out through the ropes before he can follow up, buying herself a moment on the floor to reset.
Todd: Frances wastes zero time! He's already got her on the run!
Bama: This is exactly what everybody expected from him, Todd. Total chaos from the first bell!
Miss Furry circles the ring, using the apron and the ropes to keep distance, sliding back in on the opposite side to draw Frances into a chase. He follows, and she catches him with a sharp arm drag that flows straight into a grounded headlock, working her legs around his shoulders and squeezing tight.
Todd: There's the technical side of Miss Furry we know so well. She's grounding him already.
Bama: Good luck keeping a man like Frances on the mat, Todd. He doesn't do stillness.
Frances powers up to his feet, Miss Furry still clinging to his neck, and simply drops backward, driving both of them down with a sitout that jars her grip loose. He shakes off the pressure and answers with a stiff elbow drop across her chest before rolling to his feet and pointing toward the table he brought in earlier.
Bama: Uh oh. He's looking at that table again.
Todd: I don't think that table survives this match, Bama.
Bama: I’m not even sure our competitors will survive this match!
He drags Miss Furry up by the hair and whips her toward the ropes, but she reverses at the last second, sending him into them instead, and catches him coming back with a running facebuster that plants him flat. She wastes no time following up, driving short knees into his ribs before he can recover any footing.
Todd: Miss Furry finding her rhythm here! She's picking her spots!
Bama: She's fast, Todd, I'll give her that. Frances is a truck, but she's a mongoose!
Todd: Actually Bama, I believe she considers herself to be more CAT-like in style!
Miss Furry sets Frances up in the corner and unloads a running corner knee that snaps his head back, then grabs a strip of athletic tape from her own wrist wrap, looping it around his throat and cranking back against the top rope. The referee counts, warning her about the choke, and she releases it right at four, a small, satisfied smile crossing her face.
Todd: She's choking him with his own tape! That's about as hardcore as it gets!
Bama: I love that she's smiling doing it, Todd. This is a woman who enjoys her work.
Frances stumbles out of the corner gasping, and Miss Furry charges in for a short-arm clothesline, but he catches her mid-charge and drives her down with a picture-perfect spinebuster that shakes the ring. The crowd roars as he pushes himself up, breathing heavy, blood already trickling from a cut above his eyebrow that nobody can pinpoint the origin of.
Todd: SPINEBUSTER! Frances just flattened her out of nowhere!
Bama: And he's bleeding already! This man finds a way to bleed in EVERY match, Todd, I don't know how he does it.
Todd: Except for first blood matches against vampires, apparently!
Frances rolls to the outside, retrieves a kendo stick from beneath the ring, and slides back in swinging. The first shot catches Miss Furry across the back as she tries to scramble away, and she cries out, arching in pain. He doesn't let up, cracking her twice more across the shoulder blades before tossing the stick aside and hoisting her up for a bulldog that drives her face first into the mat.
Todd: This is turning ugly fast for the champion! Frances Marigold is an absolute avalanche once he gets rolling!
Bama: He doesn't feel any of what he's doing to himself either. That's the scary part.
He drags her toward the table he brought into the ring earlier, setting it up in the corner, and hoists her onto the top rope. Miss Furry fights back with elbows to his skull, but Frances absorbs every one of them without flinching, grabbing her around the waist for a superplex attempt.
Todd: He's going up! He wants to put her through that table!
Bama: This crowd is on their feet, Todd! Everybody in this building knows what's coming!
Miss Furry manages to slip free at the last second, landing behind him on the apron, and shoves him off the top rope. Frances crashes down through the table below with a sickening crunch of wood, the crowd erupting as he lies motionless amid the wreckage.
Todd: SHE GOT HIM! Frances just went through his own table!
Bama: He brought that thing into the match himself and it turned around and ate him! Poetic justice, Todd!
Miss Furry rolls to the outside and covers!
1!
2!!
Frances kicks out!
Frances shrugs off the splinters like they're nothing. Furry looks genuinely surprised, staring down at him for a beat before pulling him up for a snap DDT that plants him hard on the exposed floor mats.
Todd: Snap DDT right on the outside! She's targeting that head every chance she gets!
Bama: She always goes after the head and the neck, Todd. That's her whole game plan, softening him up for the choke.
Frances answers by rolling under the ropes and grabbing a steel chair from a fan at ringside, swinging wildly. Miss Furry ducks the first shot, but the second connects across her midsection, folding her over. He follows with a leg drop across the back of her neck, driving her face into the chair he just dropped.
Todd: OH! Chair shot to the gut and a leg drop right into the steel!
Bama: This match has gotten downright nasty, Todd. I love it!
He drags her up for a Russian leg sweep, slamming the back of her skull into the mat, and both competitors lie still for a moment as the crowd chants along with the referee's count. Miss Furry stirs first, crawling toward the ropes, and Frances slowly follows, hauling himself up using the barricade.
Todd: Both of these competitors are running on fumes right now.
Bama: This crowd has been electric through every second of it. This is the kind of championship match people are going to talk about for years!
Back in the ring, Frances climbs to the middle rope and launches himself off with Frannie's Revenge, the Hi-Angle Senton Bomb connecting flush across Miss Furry's chest. He hooks the leg and the referee counts!
Todd: FRANNIE'S REVENGE! That's his signature and it landed clean!
1!
2!!
3-
NO!
Bama: She kicked out, Todd! I genuinely thought that was it!
Todd: The champion is fighting for her life out here right now, Bama, and Frances Marigold's intensity might just be too much for her to keep up with.
Frances hauls her up by the hair, positioning her for the No Cushion Piledriver, his finishing move. Miss Furry claws at his arms, kicking her legs, buying herself just enough leverage to backdrop him over her shoulder and send him crashing down onto his back.
Todd: She escaped the piledriver! That would have been all she wrote right there!
Bama: Smart escape from the champion. Desperate, but smart.
Both competitors are slow to rise, and Miss Furry, sensing an opening, drags Frances up and connects with Nine Lives Lost, her rapid cutter finisher, timed perfectly off the ropes. She covers immediately, the referee dropping down to count, and the crowd counts along.
1!
2!!
3- NO!!!!
Frances kicks out!
Todd: HE KICKED OUT! Her finisher and he still kicked out!
Bama: I don't think this man knows how to stay down, Todd! He isn't lying about that pain tolerance!
Miss Furry sits up on her knees, visibly stunned, staring at Frances as he starts to stir again on the mat. She glances toward the crowd, breathing heavy, clearly running low on answers after absorbing everything he's thrown at her tonight.
Todd: The champion has to be searching for something here, Bama. Her kitty cutter didn't put him away.
Bama: I don't envy her right now. That man just does not go down.
She stumbles to her feet, wobbling, clutching at her ribs, and drops to one knee near the ropes, appearing spent. Frances pushes himself up slowly across the ring, wiping blood from his eye, and starts stalking toward her, sensing the finish is close.
Todd: Look at Miss Furry, she looks completely gassed.
Bama: Frances smells blood in the water, Todd, and he's moving in for the kill.
Just as Frances reaches down to grab her, Miss Furry's eyes snap open and she rolls through underneath him, whipping her legs around his head and dragging him down into a tight leg snare before he can react. The crowd loses its mind as they realize what just happened.
Todd: SHE WAS PLAYING POSSUM! That was 9th Life the whole time!
Bama: She faked him out completely! That sneaky, sneaky cat!
Frances thrashes against the hold, trying to power out, but Miss Furry releases the leg snare and rolls immediately into her crossface, wrenching his neck back and pressing her forearm hard across his mouth and nose. Cat Scratch Fever is locked in tight, and the referee drops down beside them to check.
Todd: CAT SCRATCH FEVER! She's got it locked in dead center of the ring!
Bama: Look at that forearm across his face, Todd, she's cutting off his air completely!
Todd: Frances Marigold has taken so much punishment tonight, and now he can't even breathe!
Frances claws desperately at the mat, trying to drag himself toward the ropes, inches away, but Miss Furry adjusts her weight and hauls him back toward the center, cranking the hold tighter. His movements begin to slow, his hand flailing weaker with each attempt to fight free.
Todd: He's fading, Bama! He's fading fast!
Bama: All those beers, all that damage over the years, it's finally catching up to him at the worst possible moment!
The referee grabs Frances's arm and raises it once. It drops. He raises it a second time. It drops again. He raises it a third time, and it falls limp to the mat completely. The referee immediately signals for the bell, waving his arms frantically.
Bama: HIS ARM DROPPED THREE TIMES! HE'S OUT COLD!
Todd: Ring the bell! RING THE BELL!
Winner and STILL XWF Anarchy Champion: Miss Furry
Todd: Your winner, and STILL Anarchy Champion, Miss Furry!
Bama: What a war, Todd. What an absolute war. She got pushed further tonight than I've seen anyone push her, and she found a way out of it anyway.
Todd: Frances Marigold gave her everything he had, and I mean everything. This crowd came to see a fight, and these two gave them one for the ages.
Bama: The champion survives, folks, but I don't think anybody watching walks away from that match unimpressed by Frances Marigold either.
Miss Furry climbs to the second rope, holding the title high as the Golden Gate Bridge glows behind her in the night sky, while Frances is finally helped to his feet at ringside, still swaying, still smiling through the blood on his face.
TODD: And now it's my privilege on behalf of the blue brand to welcome you all to tonight's semi-main event. As far as my recollection goes, this is the first time the Revolution Championship has been featured in this spot on a card of this magnitude.
BAMA: That's what happens when you're talking about such a storied rivalry, Todd. Summer Page and Marisol Vilaro have battered each other around the world in a rivalry that seems like it might last forever.
TODD: Both women now have the spotlight shining on them. And this year? They've both delivered in spades. I don't know if this is the last time they'll ever meet, but I do know that the stakes have never been higher. Summer Page. Marisol Vilaro. Revolution Championship.
BAMA: And to top it off… it's an IRON WOMAN match!
The synthesised beat of “Shake it Off” by Taylor Swift begins to play as the fans boo and flashes going off.
“I stay out too late
Got nothing in my brain
That's what people say, mm-mm
That's what people say, mm-mm”
A spotlight shines on the entrance ramp and the lights dim. Then, led out by the Snarktopus, Nessa Wall and a couple of stage hands carrying mirrors, 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”
As the devious duo soon make their way to the ring and demand the referee lower the ropes for them, Mari doesn't even take time to shill her products. She looks focused and ready as Nessa presents her to the booing fans.
TODD: It's crazy to think that with all the time Marisol Vilaro has been with the XWF, her solitary brush with XWF gold is a two-day reign as X-Treme Champion.
BAMA: That's two more days than you!
TODD: That’s… fair… I guess. I'm not saying it to be rude though. Mari is unquestionably a mainstay on Anarchy. If I were to put myself in her shoes—
BAMA: DON’T STRETCH HER HEELS OUT, TODD!
TODD: —figuratively speaking… I could only imagine how much this match might mean to her.
BAMA: On that we agree. She’s been in this position before, but something feels different this time. This might be the biggest opportunity of Mari’s XWF career to date!
“S&M” by Rihanna hits the speakers and appearing on the stage, clad in the gold of the Revolution Championship, is the reigning champ, Summer Page!
Posing with the title, Summer then walks down the aisle to the ogling of the men along the ramp. She gets to ringside and walks up the ring stairs. Looking out at the crowd, she raises her arms out to the crowd and gets a very warm reception.
Summer turns her attention to inside the ring where the ref opens the ropes for her in much the same manner as for Mari. Summer walks over to the closest ring corner and climbs up to the middle turnbuckle, posing with the title.
TODD: Speaking of opportunities, after scratching and clawing to get an opportunity at gold, Summer Page took advantage of her own biggest match back at Leap of Faith, overcoming both Betsy Granger and Solomon Kline to become the NEW Revolution Champion!
BAMA: As hard as she worked to get here, Summer Page might be quickly finding out that STAYING champion is even harder than becoming champion!
TODD: It certainly hasn't been all glitz and glamour for the Perfect One. A loss to Mari is what led us to this match, though many would argue that Mari shouldn't have had her hand raised.
BAMA: They would argue, and they would fail. Because by hook or by crook, here we are.
TODD: Two months ago, Summer Page had never lost to Marisol Vilaro! That’s no longer the case. Just one loss might have changed the direction of this entire, storied rivalry.
Summer drops down from the corner and the referee makes sure the two stay apart.
The atmosphere is electric.
“Introducing first… the challenger! Hailing from Barcelona, Spain… the head, face, and body of the Vilaro Empire… MAAAAAAARRRISOOOOOOOL VILAAAAAARRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Mari frames her face with her hands and winks as the crowd boos.
“And her opponent… from New York City… she is Pure Perfection and the reigning REVOLUTION CHAMPION… “SPOILED” SUUUMMMMEEEEEERRRRRRR PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG
E!”
Summer thrusts the title into the air to a raucous reception from the crowd. Before handing the title to the referee, she takes one more look at the title for motivation.
TODD: A lot can and will happen in the next 30-minutes! It seems like just a drop in the bucket compared to the years of history between these two! And yet, it also seems like not enough time!
A 30-minute timer appears on the X-Tron as the bell rings.
Both Summer Page and Marisol Vilaro are slow to move, staring each other down like two awe-inspiring sculptures.
TODD:Venus de Milo.
The Bust of Nefertiti.
Il Pietà.
Summer Page.
Marisol Vilaro.
We are looking at two women who embody the kind of perfection that artists have spent centuries chasing!
When the two move, it's slow and cautious. They circle each other before locking up in the center of the ring. There's a slight tussle at first as they test each other's leverage and balance. Vilaro quickly transitions into a side headlock, trying to establish control. Page answers with a firm shove into the ropes, only for Vilaro to rebound with a shoulder tackle that knocks Page onto her back. Vilaro flashes a confident smile before running the ropes again, but Page surprises her with a quick arm drag that sends her tumbling across the canvas. Page immediately follows with another arm drag, then traps Vilaro in an armbar, slowing the pace.
TODD: These two have got to both last thirty minutes here. It makes sense to take it slow just like Summer is starting off here.
BAMA: On the other hand, if she just breaks Mari's arm here it'll be pretty easy to just get fall after fall from there.
It's much too soon for that and Vilaro refuses to stay grounded for long. She twists free, cartwheels out of the pressure, and catches Page with a crisp dropkick that sends the champion retreating into the corner. The challenger charges, but Page slips aside at the last second. Vilaro crashes chest-first into the turnbuckles, allowing Page to capitalize with a Stinger Splash to Mari from behind that squishes her against the corner. Page keeps the momentum alive with a snap suplex before covering for the first pin attempt!
The ref counts one but Vilaro kicks out almost immediately
BAMA: Summer's trying to get on the board early here!
TODD: But Mari's showing she's well and truly willing to go through distance tonight.
Page focuses again on wearing Vilaro down. She stretches her with a grounded hammerlock and then yanks on her leg with a kneebar, all in service of causing as much damage across the board as possible. Vilaro fights out each time and as Page seeks to ramp up the impact she hauls Mari up to her feet. Linking arms from behind, Page hoists Vilaro over with a German Suplex.
But Mari flips onto her feet!
She wraps around Page and drives her forward into the corner before rolling back into a pin of her own.
One…!
Summer Page kicks out with authority.
But Vilaro is well prepared and immediately targets Page's legs. A dragon screw, followed by several well placed stomps, is then capped off with a heel hook that sees Mari really twist the leg.
BAMA: This is smart, Todrick! Summer Page has already shown her intent around the wide array of suplexes at her disposal. If Mari takes out Summer's legs, she takes out that part of her arsenal.
Summer crawls towards the ropes—her upper body strength paying dividends as she reaches out and latches on to the bottom rope.
Vilaro keeps pulling as the referee counts.
One…!
Two…!
Three…!
Four…!
Vilaro uses right up until the last millisecond before breaking the hold and letting Page slump towards the apron.
Page climbs to her feet on the apron and catches Vilaro, draping her throat-first across the top rope. She then springboards over the top rope and catches Vilaro with a tornado DDT and she falls into a cover.
One…!
Tw—Mari kicks out!
TODD: Back and forth we go in this match so far. Neither woman seems to be able to gain a decisive advantage for long!
With every shift in momentum, the crowd responds in kind.
Vilaro responds with an enziguri and several more quick strikes. A flying headscissors sends Page sprawling. And around-and-around they go, trading near falls.
Page bounces off the ropes and tilt-a-whirls around Mari into a Russian legsweep and swoops into a cover.
One…!
Two…!
Kickout!
Instantly, Vilaro fights back with a swinging neckbreaker.
One…!
Two…!
Kickout!
Page hits a DDT.
One…!
Two…!
Kickout!
Vilaro hits a DDT of her own!
One…!
Two…!
Kickout!
TODD: These two are so evenly matched!
They battle to their feet and Vilaro is cut off by a sharp kick to the gut. Page hooks her for Pure Perfection!
Vilaro senses the danger instantly, twisting her way out into a spinning wrist look and then savagely kicking out at Page’s legs. She hacks away, trying to remove Page’s stable base. It works, and just as Page starts to wobble, Vilaro grabs a handful of hair and tosses her over the top rope to the floor. She demands the ref start to count Page out.
One…!
Two…!
Three…!
Four…!
Page is showing a lot of life, climbing up the side of the ring apron.
Five…!
Vilaro mutters something under her breath as Page tries to climb back in the ring. She storms over to cut Page off, but is suddenly snatched and dragged under the bottom rope to the outside!
Out there, it's like Vilaro was dragged to hell!
Page drives Vilaro spine-first into the barricade, and then the apron, and then face-first into the steps, and then back to the barricade. All the while the referee has been following Vilaro’s instructions again and counting—this time, both women!
One…!
Two…!
Three…!
Four…!
Five…!
Six…!
Page continues to batter Vilaro around the ringside area, grabbing her by the hair and biel tossing her across the ground.
Seven…!
Eight…!
She looks towards the ring and heads back inside, only to be stopped!
Vilaro holds on tight to Page's ankle!
Nine…!
Page's eyes widen.
Ten…!
TODD: Waitaminute…
SCORE:
Page: 1
Vilaro: 1
18:23 remaining
TODD: Both women just got counted out!
BAMA: What the heck is the point of that being an option? The ref shouldn't have bothered!
TODD: Well if Mari hadn't clung like a Koala to Page, the ref's counting would have just affected Mari and Summer would be one up.
BAMA: …It's still dumb.
Page looks down at Vilaro with ire in her eyes. She stomps on her to release her grip then emphatically hauls her into the ring.
As Vilaro writhes, Page climbs to the top rope—her back to Mari.
TODD: Most Perfect Moonsault Ever!
Out of nowhere, Vilaro pounces and slams down onto the top rope causing Page to lose balance and crash down face-first onto the top turnbuckle.
Vilaro rolls her up!
And grabs a fist full of tights!
The ref hasn't seen it!
TODD: Not again!
One…!
Vilaro bridges.
Two…!
Summer kicks!
…
Three…!
SCORE:
Page: 1
Vilaro: 2
16:04 remaining
TODD: Marisol Vilaro just stole another pin on Summer Page!
BAMA: Feels like Summer should have learned something from their Anarchy match that earned Mari her shot at Summer tonight.
TODD: It doesn't matter what she learns when Marisol is cheating!
BAMA: Maybe she should've learned that…
A wild, wide grin of pride spreads across Vilaro's face. But rather than celebrating for long, she springs into action and tries to build on her momentum while Page recovers from the shock.
Vilaro charges aggressively, believing she can quickly increase her advantage. She wails on Page's back with closed fists that drop the champion to the mat with each strike. Page tries to shove her away but Vilaro keeps coming back like a shark that has smelt blood. It takes a surprise high knee to force any substantial break, but while it rocks Vilaro and sends her back across the ring it also takes a lot out of Page. Both women breathe heavily as they try to will themselves back into the fight.
They get to their feet at about the same time. Page shakes off some of the pain in her leg. Vilaro sees it, but isn't able to take advantage as Page pushes through the pain and goes back to her upright offence. She snaps Vilaro over with a suplex. And then a second. And then a third in which she slingshots Vilaro’s abdomen off the top rope before floating her over to the mat.
She then slows everything down. Page begins to grind away at Vilaro. She cinches in a chin lock and makes sure her knee is firmly wedged between Vilaro’s shoulder blades. Vilaro groans, trying to reach out for the ropes, but Page just drives her knee in further. And then she clobbers Vilaro over the head with a forearm from behind. And another. She lets go of the hold and dusts the side of Vilaro’s skill with her boot.
Vilaro retreats to the ropes to get the referee to buy her some space. Then, a well timed dodge of a Chick Kick affords her a moment of offence.
A headlock takedown is powered out of by Page, but another enziguri leads to a double underhook suplex and an opportunity for a cover.
One…!
Two…!
Page kicks out!
TODD: Vilaro could have gone two up there!
Vilaro stares down at Page and starts wailing on her again. She puts her boot to Page’s jaw, grabs her wrists and gives her a good old fashioned VilaroFit Facial.
Unfortunately for her, that just seems to make Summer Page mad. She smacks the ground and rises to her feet. Catching a right hand from Vilaro, she fires back with several of her own. She ducks another errant swing from Vilaro and drops her with a Spoiled Rotten Backstabber.
That leads right into a Pure Perfection suplex!
One…!
Two…!
…
Three…!
SCORE:
Page: 2
Vilaro: 2
13:48 remaining
TODD: Summer got her! We are tie-game here!
The match effectively restarts with the score tied. Though Page is on her feet first both women are showing increasing signs of exhaustion.
BAMA: This is not the position Mari wants to be in! Scores are tired, Summer Page is on her feet, and she just got pinned clean as a whistle in the middle of the ring! Momentum: Summer Page.
Page hauls Mari to her feet. Desperately, Vilaro kicks out, refocusing again on the legs of the suplex-happy champion.
She connects in the shin. Twice.
Page pulls back and Vilaro bails from the ring, finding solace at the barricade. Shaking off the pain in her leg, Page pursues, heading out a different side of the ring and trying to catch Vilaro by surprise.
Vilaro, though, keeps her distance, and after a short chase around the ring, Vilaro is the first one to slide back under the rope. As Page stays on her tail, Vilaro cuts her off and starts stomping away as Page tries to slide back in.
Page shoves Vilaro back, and the challenger slides out of the ring again.
She wags a finger at the champion, taunting her.
BAMA: It's gonna be hard for Summer to pin Mari again if she stays outside the ring.
TODD: Isn't it going to be hard for Mari to get a fall too then? Possibly even risking another count out?
As Todd says that, Summer slips out of the ring to follow Mari once more.
BAMA: Mind games, Todd! Mind games!
As soon as Summer's feet hit the ground outside the ring, Vilaro re-enters, continuing to keep distance between the two.
Again, Page follows!
But this time, Vilaro has a plan!
She hits a running forearm then immediately backs away. Page regains her footing only for Vilaro to shoot in with another forearm. This time, Page uses the corner to get up but Mari is on her again! She chokes Page with her foot as the referee admonishes her.
Vilaro uses the full extent of the count before dropping her foot and letting the referee check on Page.
But Vilaro shoots in once more, handspringing into a back elbow that connects with Page's jaw.
TODD: The Vilaro Experience!
Page staggers forward…
Into a taste of her own fisherman suplex-flavored medicine!
TODD: And now the Vilaroizer!
Vilaro hooks the leg!
One…!
Two…!
Three…!
NO!!!
KICKOUT!!!!
Summer Page still has fight in her!
Frustration begins creeping onto Vilaro's face and she heads outside to bring a steel chair into the ring. Obviously the referee is having none of it and gets in her face.
The chair gets snatched away and just as the ref turns his back, Page leaps up and catches Vilaro with a small package!
But the ref is taking his sweet ass time getting that chair out of the ring!
The crowd counts!
One!
Two!
But only then does the referee actually notice and restart the numbers.
One…!
Two…!
Kickout!
TODD: That should have been another fall to Summer Page! She should be up 3-2 right now!
BAMA: But she's not, Todd! In this business, you've got to play to the whistle!
Vilaro does just that. She storms to her feet and kicks Page in the face before Page can even register what was happening.
Vilaro then snaps on the Marvelous Stretch!
And the referee isn't distracted at all!
Locked in, with nowhere to go, and with the pain in her legs only getting worse, Summer Page has no choice but to give up!
BAMA: I hate to say it, Toddrick, but Summer Page now has two opponents: Marisol… and the clock.
Vilaro is overjoyed. Page, meanwhile, smacks at her own legs as if trying to make a vending machine work again. Mari sees this happening and goes back to the same well, escaping to the outside.
TODD: This is a smarter strategy this time, Bama. The more distance Mari can now keep between her and Summer Page, the more time she wastes. And the more time she wastes, the better her chances of walking away with the Revolution Championship!
Mari knows this fact all too well and gloats about her brilliance to the fans at ringside.
But Summer Page knows this too.
And so… she waits.
And the referee begins counting.
One…
Two…
Three…
Summer Page rises to her feet
Four…
Five…
Marisol Vilaro realises what's happening.
Six…
Seven…
She gingerly makes her way to the ring and tries to get in, but spies Summer Page standing there, waiting.
Eight…
Vilaro backs off. But she has no choice!
Nine…!
Mari bolts into the ring, right into the waiting arms of Summer Page!
German Suplex!
German Suplex!
German Suplex!
TODD: It's Suplex City, Bama!
BAMA: This is exactly the energy that Summer Page needs right now to close the gap!
Summer Page launches Vilaro all over the ring!
The impact and her worn down legs slows Summer somewhat from following up but she shakes it off and whips Vilaro into the ropes.
Vilaro takes advantage of Page’s momentary pause and turns the tables, sending Page off instead! She bends down on the rebound looming for some sort of back body drop. Page leaps over with a sunset flip, rolling Vilaro up!
One…!
Two…!
Vilaro manages to kickout!
Knowing she can’t waste another opportunity, Page fights through the pain. Vilaro is still on the mat and Page heads to the corner. She springboards up… MPME!
Vilaro rolls out of the way!
But Page lands on her feet!
Only for her legs to give out from underneath her!
Page crumbles under her own bodyweight!
Vilaro senses another opening!
DDT!
One…!
Two…!
Page kicks out!
Vilaro lets loose a vicious wail as the clock ticks down.
[rdl2]
5 minutes remaining
[/rdl2]
TODD: Time is of the essence here!
BAMA: Father Time's record is forever flawless!
TODD: But Summer Page is Pure Perfection! I don't think I've ever seen a crowd rally behind her the way I'm hearing right now.
BAMA: That's called respect. The crowd don't have to like her, but the grit Summer's shown this year is undeniable!
Vilaro sees Page struggling and locks in on those wounded legs. A half crab wrenches her backwards, and Summer desperately crawls towards the ropes.
Luckily for her, she makes it there fairly quickly. Vilaro doesn't release, intent on punishing Page further but the champion doesn't wait for the ref to save her. Instead, she uses the ropes to lever her legs back down and send Vilaro tumbling.
Vilaro knows she can't just leave the ring again, but when she looks at Page she sees a wounded woman.
She closes in.
And Summer Page Vilaromaxxes the shit out of her face with an open hand slap—the sound of which can be heard two counties over and shushes the entire crowd.
Then… they begin to roar. Vilaro fires back with a strike of her own. Then Page. Vilaro. Page. Vilaro. Page. Page. Page. Page. Summer Page keeps coming! Vilaro tries to kick out at Page's legs again but this time Page catches her leg! Vilaro tries an enziguri with the other but Summer ducks. Vilaro lands on her feet and Page shoves her to the corner.
Vilaro dodges a driving shoulder from Summer Page. Page turns… and gets raked in the eyes!
Vilaro rolls her up!
And grabs a fist full of tights!
TODD: She can’t keep getting away with this!
One…!
Vilaro bridges.
Two…!
Summer kicks!
Three…!
But the referee sees Mari’s fistful of tights!
He waves off the count and immediately Vilaro starts berating him!
It gives Summer Page just enough time to get back into the action and haul Vilaro to the corner. But Mari elbows Page away and then climbs up onto the second turnbuckle.
1 minute remaining
TODD: It's do or die here for Summer Page!
BAMA: What happens if this thing ends as a draw?
TODD: Uh… I guess sudden death?
Spurred on by the chance to retain her championship, Summer Page cuts Mari off. She manages to climb the turnbuckle too, clubbing away at any attempt from Vilaro to stop her. She then hooks Vilaro’s arm over her own head and looks for a Pure Perfection from the top rope!
BAMA: This would do the trick, Todd! This would do it!
Page lifts!
But her legs give out at the last minute!
Both women crumble to the mat, landing awkwardly.
…And the clock runs out.
FINAL SCORE:
Page: 2
Vilaro: 3
WINNER AND NEEEEEEEEEEEW XWF REVOLUTION CHAMPION: MARISOL VILAROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
As the bell rings, neither woman moves from where they lie on the mat. Both breathe heavily and tears form around each of their eyes for very different reasons—Marisol Vilaro in jubilation; Summer Page in devastation.
Vilaro can't even stand as her arm is raised from where she lies on the mat and the Revolution Championship is placed across her body. Even so, she clutches at it like it's her baby.
Eventually, Vilaro finds her way to her knees and thrust the championship into the air for all to see.
TODD: What a war between these two.
BAMA: The Revolution just got Vilaromaxxed, Todd!
JC: Folks, we’ve already had a hell of a show! And we’re finally onto our Universal championship match!
Suddenly, the arena goes black.
JR: Oh, enough talking, Jacuinde! The challenger’s RARIN’ to go!
Then some haunting music creeps in over the PA system as static flickers across the X-Tron and a thick fog rolls onto the stage.
Micheal Graves steps through the curtain, stopping at the top of the ramp as strobe lights flicker across his face like a horror villain.
JC: There he is! Michael Graves! The Dark Warrior!
JR: He’s been an absolute beast since making his return earlier this year, Jacuinde! He defeated King King Kieran King, a feat the rest of the XWF thought was impossible! He managed to carry the Universal Title he won off Kieran all the way to the Finals!
JC: And since March Madness, his heat check has continue to swelter! He defeated Dickie Watson AND Game Girl on back-to-back Warfares!
JR: Most people would celebrate victories like that as career accomplishments! Once-in-a-lifetime stuff! Graves scored those back-to-back on his way to challenging for the Universal title!
JC: But his opponent tonight… the reigning Universal champion… may be the stiffest challenge Micheal Graves has faced in his over-a-decade long career!
Quick cuts of in-ring violence flash across the X-Tron as Graves starts down the ramp, ignoring the few fans who are reaching out for him.
Once he's at ringside, he stops and sniffs the air with a crooked grin.
After a brief moment, he slides under the bottom rope and crawls across the canvas, stopping in the center of the ring where he slowly rises and tosses his cape aside.
Finally, he backs into his corner and waits for the violence to begin.
…
The lights in the arena cut out entirely, and the fans begin to buzz. The darkness holds for a moment before…
With each of the hits of the word “Fame” a spotlight flashes back and forth between the stage and a random spot in the audience. On the screen, the images alternate between key moments from the career of Sebastian Everett-Bryce, S.E.B. and Empire.
After the final Fame, the lyrics end.
Na, na, na, na…
The screen flashes with the words Welcome to the Empire.
As the beat drops, Sebastian Everett-Bryce flings his arms wide, lit up by a bright spotlight, his head covered by the hood of his jacket. He stands in the middle of the ramp, the lights beating down on him, before looking out at the crowd. He wears a long jacket, zipped to the waist. The jacket, which is cut away at the bottom and only runs down the back of his legs, is patterned with an elongated Union Flag, but it appears to be cracked, and broken. Distressed. His tights are short, with the initials S.E.B. emblazoned upon the front.
JC: And there he is! The ONLY Three-time Universal champion in XWF history… Sebastian Everett-Bryce!
JR: Sebastian Everett-Bryce has owned the road he took to get here! It wasn’t straight-forward, it was lumpy and bumpy but it ended with him finally beating the man the world thought had his number: Scoops McGee! And as a result, SEB is once more the Universal champion!
JC: But you could feel the friction between SEB and Graves when Elon Musk announced that Graves would be SEB’s opponent for the Universal title at Bad Medicine! You could feel the tension between these two men as they cut their promos!
JR: Absolutely! Graves sees SEB’s Empire as painting losses as growth… as history being written by the victors… Graves sees SEB as a phony pretending to be invincible when Graves can see the mortal man under that myth! But SEB sees the hot streak Graves is on! Graves acted like SEB saying ‘Graves it is’ was disrespectful, like he was ordering his opponent off a menu… SEB was perhaps just acknowledging that Graves is a worthy challenge.
JC: And he’d be foolish to think anything otherwise, Joe! The XWF only features the best of the best and these two men are the currently best among the best of the best! But only one can leave with the Universal championship!
Fame makes a man take things over
Fame lets him loose, hard to swallow
Fame puts you there where things are hollow
It's not your brain, it's just the flame
That puts your change to keep you insane (sane)
The lights lift and Seb makes his way to the ring, stretching his neck from side to side as he walks, he slaps hands with fans as he walks, stopping with a random fan and staring into the camera and shouting “My Empire, right here!”. He climbs up the steps and steps through the ropes before standing in the middle of the ring.
Fame, what you like is in the limo
Fame, what you get is no tomorrow
Fame, what you need you'll have to borrow
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame
He pulls back his hood.
Is it any wonder?
Is it any wonder?
Is it any wonder?
Is it any wonder? (Ooh)
The beat drops again, he flashes his arms out to a side, a satisfied smirk upon his face, he holds the position for a moment, to allow the crowd to take pictures, before pulling off his Jacket to reveal “EMPIRE” on the back of his tights.
As his music comes to an end, Seb backs to the corner and leans, with a satisfactory smirk upon his face.
The recently crowned XWF Universal Champion lifts the microphone to his lips to speak, however as he does, he’s drowned out by the cheers of the XWF faithful - an emotional looking Sebastian Everett-Bryce pauses and allows the cheers of the crowd to wash over him.
…
The referee stands in the center of the ring, the XWF Universal Championship held high overhead.
Sebastian Everett-Bryce stands in his corner, shoulders loose, jaw tight. His eyes never leave the man across from him. The title glints over his shoulder, but he isn't looking at it. He's studying posture. Breathing. Weight distribution.
Across the ring, Micheal Graves rocks gently on the balls of his feet, shoulders slumped, a crooked grin smeared across his face beneath greasy hair hanging over his eyes. He looks almost bored.
JC: "Ladies and gentlemen, here we go! The Universal Championship is on the line! No Holds Barred! No disqualifications! Falls count absolutely anywhere!"
JR: "You know what's terrifying, Jacuinde? Graves is smiling like he's walking into a barbecue instead of a title match."
The referee lowers the championship.
And then jogs out of the way he’s dodging two runaway trains!
SEB's brow furrows with measured caution as he slowly circles to his left, one hand extended. Every step is deliberate, inviting a collar-and-elbow tie-up while denying Graves any easy angle.
Graves tilts his head, blinking as though confused by the invitation. His grin widens. Rather than reach for the lock-up...
...he suddenly swings an absolutely disgusting HEAVY-HANDED BITCH SLAP across SEB's face.
CRACK!
The arena gasps.
JR: "Oh my GOD."
JC: “ZERO Respect from Micheal Graves! Starting this match with an open-palm SLAP to the skull!”
JR: “You’re talking about reverence Jacuinde, the same thing that people USED to feel for SEB! Graves beat Kieran King earlier this year! He won the Universal championship! Why? Because he sees his opponent for who he is! Most other people go into a match looking to wrestle the legend. Graves goes into every match eager to smack the shit out of the human hiding under all the myth!”
SEB's head snaps sideways.
He freezes.
We’re at the first strike of the match and the crowd is already on fire, already rising to their feet!
His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek.
The champion’s jaw flexes.
His nostrils flare.
He slowly turns back toward Graves.
Graves simply nods once, raising his chin, as if offering a free shot back.
SEB's lips curl into an irritated half-smirk as he abandons the feeling-out process entirely. His right shoulder dips before he explodes forward with a blistering European uppercut.
SUUUUUUUUH-MACK!
Graves' head jerks backward.
His knees buckle.
Instead of looking hurt...
Graves begins laughing.
Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.
He spits it onto the canvas.
JC: What a strike by SEB! That wasn’t an appetizer strike, that was a knockout attempt!
JR: And Graves is still standing!
Graves' eyes light up with childlike excitement. He lunges without technique, throwing another wild slap—
—but SEB's expression sharpens with satisfaction. He slips underneath it and wraps Graves around the waist.
Without hesitation—
BELLY-TO-BELLY SUPLEX!
Graves crashes onto his back.
JC "Beautiful counter wrestling by the champion!"
Graves rolls through almost immediately.
Not because he's recovered...
Because he refuses to stay still.
Still laughing, he scrambles back to his feet.
SEB's eyebrows knit together, his feet shuffle as he rises, as if he was expecting a pause to plan his next offensive phase…
Instead...
Graves is already charging.
Graves' smile disappears into clenched teeth as he barrels across the ring.
SEB's eyes widen…
Graves goes for a
…SPEAR! SPEAR! SPEAR!
…NO! SEB barely manages to sideroll out of harm’s way!
Graves misses entirely—
SLAMMING SHOULDER-FIRST INTO THE TURNBUCKLE POST.
JC: “Uh oh! Minor miscalculation by Graves! SEB escapes like a matador avoiding a charging bull!”
JR: "That's what happens when your entire strategy is 'run through the other guy! SEB’s got one of the highest ring IQs of anyone on the roster! Graves is a monster, but I don’t like his odds if his gameplan is just bulldoze SEB like he’s done everybody else lately!"
Graves leans against the corner.
His shoulder clearly hurts.
He rotates it once.
Twice.
Then simply shrugs.
JR: …What the hell is Graves even made of?
Seeing what he perceives to be an opening, SEB's expression hardens into ruthless focus. He sprints toward the corner.
RUNNING KNEE
NO!
At the very last second Graves drops to the mat!
SEB's knee blasts into nothing but steel.
CLANG!
The champion collapses into the corner he just charged, clutching his leg.
Pain shoots across his face.
Graves is up to his feet, wrapping his mangy mits from behind around SEB’s neck..
And Graves suddenly drives a vicious HEADBUTT directly into the back of SEB's forehead.
THUNK!
SEB’s skull lurches forward, slamming against the turnbuckle… For a moment, the crowd can’t see his face… The champ doesn’t move!
JR: Holy shit! That headbutt sounded… wet! Disgusting!
JC: Graves is possibly THE hardest striker in the XWF! And that skull shot definitely might leave SEB bleeding!
Graves peels back… A small but noticeable stream blood running down the front of the Dark Warrior mask!
JC: Strike that! Both men might be bleeding after that one!
Graves peels SEB out of the corner… blood running down the back of SEB’s skull!
JR: And confirmed!
Graves peels SEB out of the corner by his tights, SEB’s legs looking a little like jelly after that headbutt!
Graves pulls SEB back into a waistlock toward the center of the ring, before lifting for a…
SNAP GERMAN SUP-
…NO! Standing Switch! In a flash of veteran instinct, SEB snaps behind Graves AND DUMPS HIM BACKWARDS ON HIS SKULL!
RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX!
Graves gets HUCKED across the ring, landing straight on the back of his neck… And he’s already looking to get back up!
JC: Is Graves even human?!?
JR: Oh, he’s human! You can see it in his face, that one HURT! Graves ain’t immortal, he’s just relentless! And he wants to go into Relentless next pay-per-view with the Universal championship around his waist!
JC: But here comes the champion!
SEB doesn’t waste a moment. As Graves is wrenching himself back up to his feet, SEB is wrapping his arms around Graves’ waist!
Graves struggles against the champion’s grip, backing up to trap the champion against the ropes!
JC: This match is No Holds Barred! No rope breaks!
JR: They may not stop the action, but they’re still attached to the ring! Graves is thinking SEB can’t toss him if he’s got the ropes in his way!
Graves’ hands move down to the waistlock to break SEB’s gri-
WHAM! From behind, SEB gives Graves a receipt for that headbutt from behind! Graves staggers forward a step!
And without a moment of hesitation… SEB delivers a…
GERMAN SUPLEX THROUGH THE ROPES!
Both men crash HIDEOUSLY off the apron to the padded concrete around the ring!
JC: Holy shit! Someone’s gotta fire the ring crew, those ropes did NOTHING to contain these men inside the ring!
The crowd erupts.
SEB's face twists in agony the instant his lower back bounces off the thin ringside padding. His fingers instinctively clutch at his ribs…
JC: It looks like that move might have done as much damage to SEB as it did to Graves!
JR: It definitely did damage to SEB… Graves is hurt but… SOMEHOW HE’S MOVING!
Graves is already rolling.
Not away.
Toward him.
The Dark Warrior's face is twisted into something between a grin and a grimace, blood dripping steadily from beneath the edge of his mask. He plants one hand on the floor, almost crawling through the pain.
Not to stand...
To attack.
JC: Holy… At this point, the question isn’t ‘can SEB out-wrestle Graves?’... it might not even be ‘can SEB outfight Graves?’... It’s ‘what can SEB do to put Graves DOWN?!?’
JR: Graves is like if Freddy Krueger’s mind was piloting Jason Voorhees’s body! At this point, SEB might need to stop thinking in terms of suplexes and kicks… maybe move onto… like… knives. And GUNS.
Graves’ filthy hand suddenly hooks SEB's ankle.
With a vicious yank—
SEB's already-damaged knee SLAMS against the steel ring steps.
CLANG!
The champion sucks air through gritted teeth as his entire body recoils.
JC: "Graves immediately targets the leg that already struck the post!"
JR: "That's veteran violence, Jacuinde! He doesn't care what hurts—he cares what already hurts!"
SEB's eyebrows squeeze shut as white-hot pain shoots up his leg. Rather than curl into himself, his jaw sets stubbornly. He swings his free boot backward blindly, desperate to create separation before Graves can capitalize further.
His heel catches Graves square in the cheek.
THUD!
Graves' head snaps sideways.
He spits another mouthful of blood.
Then...
Laughs.
Again.
Graves wipes the blood across the front of his own mask with the back of his wrist, admiring the stain like fresh paint on a masterpiece. His shoulders bounce with a quiet chuckle before his eyes drift toward the nearby timekeeper's table.
His grin grows wider.
JR: "...Uh-oh."
JC: "Joe... I don't like that look."
JR: "That's the 'I found a terrible idea' look."
Graves starts for the tabel…
ButSEB lunges forward despite the protesting knee, wrapping both arms around Graves' waist before the challenger can reach it.
Graves snarls as he's dragged backward.
SEB plants his feet.
Another German—
No.
Graves spreads his base.
His boots scrape across the padding.
Neither man moves.
The veins stand out in SEB's neck.
His teeth grind together.
He adjusts his grip lower around Graves' hips.
Graves' eyes suddenly widen with realization.
Not because he's afraid.
Because he knows exactly what's coming.
With one explosive burst—
SEB finally lifts.
GERMAN SUPLEX!
But instead of throwing Graves backward...
He launches him sideways.
CRASH!
Graves explodes shoulder-first THROUGH the ringside barricade.
Fans in the front row leap backward as the steel divider folds inward beneath his weight.
The arena detonates.
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
JC: "GOOD LORD!"
JR: "FOUR-HUNDRED-PLUS-POUNDS OF HUMAN MASS JUST HURTLED THROUGH THE BARRICADE!"
SEB remains on one knee, breathing heavily.
His chest rises and falls.
His injured leg trembles.
He stares into the wreckage.
Waiting.
Watching.
Knowing better than anyone...
That wasn't enough.
The broken barricade shifts.
A hand appears.
Then another.
Graves slowly pulls himself upright from the twisted steel.
Blood now runs from both his forehead and his mouth.
His left shoulder hangs noticeably lower than before.
He reaches down...
Picks up a jagged chunk of broken barricade pipe.
JC: Oh my god!
JR: No holds barred, Jacuinde! Weapons are legal!
That’s not a wrestling weapon, Joe! That’s a future murder weapon!
JR: This whole match feels like watching footage for a future true crime documentary!
SEB's breathing steadies. His expression shifts from confidence to calculation as he watches Graves methodically feel the broken pipe’s weight in his hand.
Exploding forward on pure instinct, SEB bursts into a sprint, his face tightening every time his damaged knee strikes the floor. He launches himself before Graves can fully raise the pipe.
SUICIDE DIVE!
SEB's shoulder drives into Graves' chest.
The impact sends both men careening over the remains of the barricade and crashing into the sea of folding chairs beyond.
Fans scatter in every direction.
JC: "They're into the crowd!"
JR: "SEB knows exactly what's happening! He's trying to keep Graves from ever getting comfortable with a weapon!"
The pipe flies harmlessly from Graves' hands, clattering somewhere beneath the audience seating!
The crowd buzzes with electricity as the champion and challenger writhe, both struggling to reach their feet amidst an impact zone of twisted metal…
SEB winces as he pushes himself upright amidst the wreckage of overturned folding chairs, one hand instinctively rubbing his throbbing lower back. His eyes immediately scan the area—not for Graves—but for the ring. His breathing steadies.
JC: "Look at the champion's eyes. He wants this fight back where wrestling wins championships. He knows every second spent out here increases Graves’ odds!"
JR: "And Graves sees that. Which means there's no chance in hell he's letting that happen."
Across from him, Graves slowly rises with a low chuckle escaping through bloodstained teeth.
SEB's expression hardens with resolve. Rather than continue brawling through the crowd, he abruptly turns and limps, dragging Graves by the scalp and stringy hair back towards the ring…
…SEB drags Graves to the apron, looking to force his opponent back under the bottom rope!
…THWIP! Suddenly, Graves’s arms shoot around SEB’s waist!
And he delivers an UGLY BACK SUPLEX, dumping SEB beside the apron up towards the Entrance ramp!
JC: Ooooof! There was no technique to that one! That was ALL damage!
…SEB cradles his back, trying to struggle back onto his feet, knowing he can’t afford any recovery time against Micheal Graves…
Graves' smile widens, brushing away blood running down the front of his mask…
As SEB slowly rises, pushing exhaustedly off the mat!
The champion's skull ricochets off the diamond plating.
His entire body goes limp for a heartbeat.
JC: "The ramp! Oh my God!"
JR: "That's not canvas! That's painted steel!"
Graves kneels beside the stunned champion, his chest heaving. He wipes blood from his own nose with one thumb before deliberately smearing it across the side of SEB's face.
A sick little trophy.
He drops to cover SEB!
The official counts!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NO! SEB forces a shoulder up!
JC: SEB is still in it! Graves possibly spending a little too much time adding insult to injury there!
JR: But, right now, it feels like a question of when, not if… Graves is a psychopath, refusing to feel pain and SEB is a master of wrestling, but he’s a mortal man…
Out on the ramp, Graves peels SEB off the steel…
But on the way up, SEB drives a stiff elbow backward into Graves' jaw.
THOCK!
Graves recoils a step.
SEB rolls onto one knee.
Then another ELBOW.
Graves grins through the impact.
SEB surges upward, grabbing Graves by the wrist before the Dark Warrior can reset his footing.
With a violent twist—
CLOTHESLINE!
Graves spins inside out before crashing flat onto the steel.
The metallic echo reverberates through the arena.
JC: "Everything echoes out here!"
JR: "That steel doesn't forgive! And neither do these two men!"
Graves rolls onto his side, his face contorting for perhaps the first genuine moment of pain all night. His fingers briefly clutch his ribs.
Only briefly.
He laughs again.
Coughing as he does.
He seizes Graves around the waist once more.
JC: "The Germans have been devastating all match!"
JR: “Or as they say in German…”
…
JR: “Dammit, I wish I knew German.”
Graves plants his boots desperately against the ramp, his teeth grinding together. Rather than fight the grip with technique, he suddenly throws three savage trapping headbutts backward.
THUNK!
THUNK!
THUNK!
Each one catches SEB somewhere around the eyebrow and cheekbone.
The champion's grip loosens.
Blood immediately begins trickling from a fresh cut above his eye.
SEB staggers backward, blinking crimson out of one eye.
Graves sees it.
His smile disappears.
Opportunity.
He lunges forward with a roaring HEART PUNCH to the sternum.
The air explodes from SEB's lungs.
His mouth hangs open silently.
He drops to one knee.
JR: "You don't see that move anymore because it feels like getting hit by a damn sledgehammer!"
JC: “Graves could try a pin… but I think he’s become aware to put SEB down… to win that Universal championship… he’s gonna have to BREAK SEB physically.
JR: If SEB has air left in his lungs, he’s not gonna let Graves beat him!
Graves grabs a fistful of SEB's hair.
Drags him farther.
Up the ramp.
Away from the ring.
In one explosive motion, SEB surges upward, slipping underneath Graves' arm and cinching both hands around his waist before the challenger can react.
With a roar born from equal parts frustration and determination—
OVERHEAD BELLY-TO-BELLY SUPLEX!
Graves sails through the air...
...before crashing spine-first onto the sloped steel stage.
KRAAANG!
The sound is horrific.
The crowd collectively winces.
JC: "How many times can a human body hit steel and keep moving?!"
JR: "I don't know... but these two are trying to find the answer."
SEB remains doubled over near the center of the stage, one hand pressed against his ribs as the other wipes blood from his eye. Every breath comes with a visible wince. His expression tightens—not with relief—but with urgency.
He knows better.
He limps toward Graves before the Dark Warrior can recover.
JC: "This is exactly what Sebastian Everett-Bryce has to do! Stay on him!"
JR: "Because if Graves gets even five seconds to become Graves again... you're in deep trouble."
Graves' fingers twitch.
Then curl.
Then slowly grab a fistful of SEB's tights as the champion reaches down.
SEB's eyes widen just a fraction.
Too late.
Graves surges upward with a guttural roar, wrapping both arms around SEB's waist.
Before SEB can widen his base—
FALLAWAY SLAM!
SEB is hurled high into the air before crashing flat onto the steel stage.
KRAAANG!
The champion bounces violently before collapsing onto his side, clutching the back of his neck.
Graves slowly rolls onto one knee, coughing blood onto the stage.
His grin slowly returns.
JR: "That's what I'm talking about! Graves doesn't recover… he resurrects. Vibes like the end of a horror movie! Just when you think he’s dead, his arm shoots up and the end credits are delayed another scene!"
SEB grits his teeth and forces himself back toward his knees, one trembling hand planted against the steel. His vision swims, but instinct takes over. He has to stand.
Graves watches him.
Patiently.
Almost admiringly.
Then...
He explodes.
A savage BACKFIST catches SEB across the jaw.
The champion reels.
Before he can fall—
A brutal BACK ELBOW crashes into the side of his head.
SEB staggers sideways, barely conscious on his feet.
Graves snarls.
He hooks both arms beneath SEB's.
Lifts.
PULLING PILEDRIVER!
The champion's head is driven into the unforgiving steel stage.
THOOM!
The audience gasps in horror.
Graves immediately sprawls across SEB's chest.
The referee dives into position.
ONE!
...
TWO!
...
THR—NO!
SEB jerks a shoulder off the steel.
JC: "HOW?!"
JR: "Because he's Sebastian Everett-Bryce! It took SEB almost a year since winning his last Universal championship to get it back, you’re gonna have to pry it from his cold, dead hands!
JC: “I think Micheal Graves is more amenable than maybe anyone on the XWF roster with the idea of leaving his opponent cold and dead!"
Graves sits upright beside the champion.
He studies SEB for a moment.
Almost impressed.
Then slowly looks beyond him.
Toward the edge of the stage.
Toward the long drop below.
His smile stretches wider than it's been all night.
JR: "...No."
JC: "Surely not..."
Graves slowly stands.
His body screams in protest.
He ignores every signal.
He bends down.
Hauls SEB onto his shoulders.
The crowd immediately begins buzzing.
Everyone recognizes the position.
JC: "Graves Consequences..."
JR: "Not up here..."
Graves trudges toward the edge of the stage, every step deliberate.
SEB hangs limp across his shoulders.
The challenger reaches the precipice.
Looks down.
Looks back toward the ring.
Smiles.
The champion's eyelids flutter open.
Without hesitation, SEB begins firing desperate elbows into Graves' temple.
One.
Two.
Three.
Graves stumbles.
His grip weakens.
SEB twists violently.
Slides off the back of Graves' shoulders.
Both boots hit the steel.
Graves spins—
RIGHT INTO—
EMPIRE KICK!!
The Claymore-style boot catches Graves flush beneath the jaw.
CRACK!!
The challenger flips inside out before crashing lifelessly onto the steel stage.
The crowd absolutely explodes.
JC: "EMPIRE KICK!!"
JR: "HE TOOK HIS HEAD OFF!"
SEB collapses beside him from pure exhaustion.
Several agonizing seconds pass before the champion drapes one arm across Graves' chest.
The referee counts.
ONE!
...
TWO!
...
The audience rises.
...
THR—NOOOOO!!
GRAVES KICKS OUT!
The roar inside the arena somehow becomes even louder.
JC: "HE KICKED OUT!!"
JR: "WHAT IS THIS GUY MADE OF?!"
SEB simply lies there for a second.
Disbelief washes across his bloodied face.
He closes his eyes.
Lets out one exhausted breath.
Then...
He nods.
Almost to himself.
If one wasn't enough...
Then another.
Slowly...
Painfully...
SEB drags himself upright.
He backs away several steps across the stage.
His breathing becomes measured.
Focused.
He lowers his center of gravity.
One hand brushes the blood from his brow.
His eyes never leave Graves.
JC: "He's loading it again!"
JR: "If he lands another Empire Kick..."
Graves slowly crawls toward his knees.
His body barely responding.
He can hardly lift his head.
SEB explodes forward.
The champion sprints across the steel.
Empire Kick—
Graves' eyes suddenly snap open.
A flash of wicked delight crosses his face.
He spits.
A blinding cloud of GREEN MIST erupts directly into SEB's eyes.
FWSSSH!
The champion instantly grabs at his face, screaming as he stumbles blindly past his target.
JC: "THE MIST!"
JR: "HE BLINDED HIM!"
SEB claws frantically at his burning eyes.
He can't see.
He swings wildly at empty air.
Graves rises behind him.
His grin has returned.
He wraps both arms around the blinded champion.
Hauls him effortlessly onto his shoulders.
JR: "...Oh no."
With one final roar…
GRAVE DIGGER!!
The Death Valley Driver spikes SEB violently onto the steel stage.
KRAAAAAANG!!
The entire entrance set seems to shake.
Graves collapses across the champion.
The referee slides into position.
ONE!
...
TWO!
...
The crowd holds its breath.
...
THR—NO!!
SEB POWERS A SHOULDER OFF THE STEEL!
For the first time all night...
Graves' smile disappears completely.
He simply stares.
Disbelieving.
SEB doesn't move.
Graves doesn't move.
Both men lie flat on their backs atop the stage, bloodied, bruised, barely conscious.
The referee looks from one to the other, almost unsure whether either man can continue.
"FIGHT FOREVER!"
"FIGHT FOREVER!"
"FIGHT FOREVER!"
The chants continue to thunder through the arena.
"FIGHT FOREVER!"
"FIGHT FOREVER!"
"FIGHT FOREVER!"
JC: This crowd is electric, begging this fight to go on in perpetuity!
JR: I don’t think either man can even hear the crowd, Jacuinde! They're too busy trying to remember how to stand.
SEB's face twists in agony as he plants one bloodstained palm against the steel. His vision is still blurred from the green mist, his eyes squeezed nearly shut as tears stream involuntarily down his cheeks. Somehow, he plants a boot on the ramp and pushes up…
Across from him, Graves coughs violently, blood splattering onto the stage beneath his mask. His battered ribs refuse to cooperate as he pushes himself upright, his left shoulder hanging limp and useless. Still...
He smiles.
JC: "I don't know whether I'm watching two wrestlers... or two men simply refusing to die."
JR: "This stopped being about wrestling half an hour ago."
The two stagger toward one another.
No footwork.
No technique.
No plans left.
Just instinct.
SEB's jaw clenches as he swings a tired right hand.
THUD!
Graves' head turns.
He barely reacts.
Graves slowly looks back at him.
His lips curl.
He answers with a vicious open-handed...
SMAAAACK!
The slap echoes through the arena.
SEB nearly collapses from the impact.
JR: "Jesus Christ..."
The champion stumbles sideways, one knee threatening to buckle beneath him. His expression hardens through the haze of pain. Rather than swing wildly, he chambers one leg.
THUMP!
A brutal kick buries itself into Graves' damaged ribs.
The Dark Warrior wheezes.
His smile finally falters.
He drops to one knee.
SEB sees it.
An opening.
His breathing becomes measured despite the agony.
He reaches down...
Snaking one arm around Graves' head.
Front facelock.
JC: "SEB's looking to finally wrestle again!"
Graves' remaining good eye slowly opens.
A wicked grin returns.
His filthy hand reaches upward...
Not for the hold.
For SEB's face.
His fingers rake directly across the champion's still-burning, mist-covered eyes.
SEB howls.
Instinctively releasing the facelock.
Both hands fly to his face.
JR: "Right in the eyes again! That's pure survival!"
Blind.
Defenseless.
SEB staggers backward.
Graves surges up with everything he has left.
BIG BOOT!
His boot crashes flush into the side of SEB's skull.
The champion crumples onto the steel.
Graves collapses to one knee beside him, gasping for air.
He reaches down.
Hooks SEB.
Lifts him.
The crowd immediately rises.
Powerbomb position.
JC: "...No..."
JR: "Not again..."
Graves stumbles toward the edge of the stage.
Twenty feet below...
Production equipment.
Lighting crates.
Electrical cables.
A production box.
Graves looks down...
Then smiles.
JC: "GRAVES CONSEQUENCES OFF THE STAGE WOULD END THIS MATCH!"
SEB hangs limp across Graves' shoulders.
Then...
GRAVES CONSEQUENCES!
…
NO!
SEB twists.
Rolls down Graves' back for the second time.
Both boots slam onto the steel behind the challenger.
Graves spins—
His exhausted knees suddenly buckle beneath him.
For one terrifying instant...
He's balanced directly on the lip of the stage.
SEB still can't see.
He doesn't need to.
He hears Graves' boots scraping for purchase.
He throws himself forward.
Leaving his feet.
SHOTGUN DROPKICK!
Both boots smash square into Graves' chest.
JR: "OH MY GOD!"
The momentum carries Graves backward.
But SEB's own body follows through the impact.
Neither man can stop.
Both men tumble together over the edge.
Twenty feet.
The arena falls silent.
...
...
...
KRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!!
The two competitors explode through the production box below.
Wood.
Steel.
Monitors.
Lighting panels.
Everything erupts into splinters.
Electrical sparks shower the wreckage.
Smoke billows upward.
Officials sprint from every direction.
The referee races to the edge, looking down into the carnage.
JC: "...Move..."
"...Somebody move..."
Nothing.
Only flickering sparks.
Broken equipment.
Twisted bodies.
Then...
A hand.
SEB's hand.
Barely moving.
Barely alive.
He collapses across Graves' chest.
The referee dives beside them.
His hand slaps the concrete.
ONE!
...
No movement.
TWO!
...
Graves' fingers twitch...
But refuse to rise.
...
THREE!!
DING! DING! DING!
WINNER AND STILL XWF UNIVERSAL CHAMPION: SEBASTIAN EVERETT-BRYCE!
The arena detonates.
JC: "HE GOT HIM!!"
JR: "I DON'T BELIEVE IT!"
JC: "SEBASTIAN EVERETT-BRYCE HAS SURVIVED MICHEAL GRAVES!"
JR: "Forget survived... he had to destroy himself to do it!"
JC: “This was possibly the most hellacious match of SEB’s career… but SEB survived! ANd he continues his reign as Universal champion!”
The referee can barely lift the battered Universal Championship before medical personnel flood the scene.
SEB doesn't celebrate.
He can't.
He simply lies amidst shattered equipment, one arm draped weakly over the championship as it's placed against his chest.
Graves remains motionless beside him, buried beneath splintered wood and dangling cables, a crimson smile still faintly visible beneath his blood-soaked mask.
THANKS TO…
OUR MATCH WRITERS
‘Big’ Dick Lichter
‘Bashmaster’ Barry Masterson
Kristoffer Arroyo
Peter Principle
ELO
Atticus Gold
Judd Hollow
Liam Desmond
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