<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation

<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Warfare Results]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Fri, 22 May 2026 13:48:39 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[WARFARE - May 11th. 2026]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=50088 Wed, 13 May 2026 07:44:45 -0700 Peter Principle]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=50088

May - 11 - 2026

LIVE FROM CLIMATE PLEDGE ARENA

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

Latoya Hixx
- vs -
Mark Cross
- vs -
John Blade
Triple Threat Match

Remi Storm
- vs -
Jordan Penn
Two Out of Three Falls Match

Ken Davidson
- vs -
Rowan Vance
Singles Match

Asher Hayes
- vs -
Dickie Watson
Singles Match

XWF Television Championship
Korvayne ©
- vs -
Bobby Bourbon
First Blood Match
15 Minute Time Limit

Brotherhood of Bastards
Charlie Nickles
Jenny Myst
Gator
- vs -
The Exiles
Sebastian Everett-Bryce
Isaiah King
Betsy Granger
- vs -
The House of Hardcore
Scoops McGee
Game Girl
Corey Black
Triple Trios Deathmatch
If the Exiles or HoH win, SEB or Scoops respectively get to choose the stipulation for their match at Leap of Faith!
If BoB wins, Charlie Nickles is added to the Universal title match!

]

The first frenetic strums of Faith No More's “The Gentle Art of Making Enemies” tears through the arena and the crowd roars to life.

JR: It's been a rare treat these days to see the former King of the XWF, and Seattle sounds excited, Jac!

JC: ‘Excited’ is one way to describe it! They're definitely not cheering, Joe!

JR: Well they're not booing either. They're just making noise. Even you can't begrudge them that.

JC: Make no mistake about it, Kieran King has personally insulted me and trashed my property. For whatever reason, he doesn't like me and he has made it impossible for me to like him. But it's hard to deny facts: Kieran King is a three-time Universal Champion—only XWF Legends Cooper and Jayzon Williamz have held it more.

Jacuinde continues to run through King’s accolades as the man saunters towards the ring.

JC: In years past, he was one of only two men to win both the annual Lord of the Ring battle royal and X-Mas X-Treme tournament. The other man? Arguably the GOAT, Steve Jason.

As Kieran nears the ring, he overhears what Jacuinde is saying and makes his way around the ring towards the commentary table.

JC: More recently, he is a Relentless main eventer who went eighteen months without a loss and became the ONLY person to win back-to-back March Madness tournaments. It's a Hall of Legends career, no matter what you think of the man himself.

Jacuinde finishes, only to see a smug, smirking Kieran King right in front of him.

Kieran King: You forgot to add that I'm the greatest wrestler alive.

JC: Don't push your luck!

King chuckles before nabbing himself a microphone, turning, and sliding into the ring. As he stands, he mouths off once more—not into the mic—in the announcer’s direction.

Kieran King: Greatest wrestler alive.

He smirks again and then turns his attention to the audience.

Kieran King: Butcher and gentlefolk, YA BOI has huffed, he has puffed, and he has blown down the doors to the house. All it took was one well placed strike and whatever pathetic plan The Trillionaires had to keep me out of my… kingdom…

Well goddamn, that still just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?

I may not where a crown but the XWF would do well to remember that my name is very much still ‘King’, and until you can throw people at the Universal Title who I haven't already stomped, then this is very much still MY kingdom.

The entire might of the richest men on this planet couldn't keep me away because this is MY world. They're just tourists in it.

And don't think I haven't noticed the silence of the rest of your would-be heroes with regards to the trials and tribulations I'm being put through! Once this little situation is dealt with, I'm going to be holding ALL of you to account for your sins.

But that is then. And this… is now. So let's have it! Elon, Jeffrey, Zuckerfucker… you've let me in the building. Come and kiss my ring before I start trashing things around again.

Staring at the stage, King awaits the XWF’s majority owners.

He waits.

And then waits some more.

Finally, Kieran lets out a big sigh.

Kieran King: I guess it's time to start throwing my toys.

He eyes the announcer's desk.

Kieran King: Maybe I'll start with Jacuinde's head–

Suddenly…

ODE.

TO.

JOY.

The crowd explodes as Dolly Waters appears on the stage!

JC: Listen to this ovation!

JR: The new President of the National Combat Athletes Collective!

JC: A role she assumed by taking back the XWF Union from Kieran King!

JR: The first person to beat him one-on-one in two and a half years! But at what cost?

Sure enough, there's a noticeable limp in Dolly's walk.

Before she even has a chance to speak though, King cuts both her and her theme music off.

Kieran King: Oh my. Look how the mighty fall! For all her bluster about worker's rights, Dolly Waters is now out here to serve the agenda of the billionaire class! I guess it's true what they say—everybody's got a price!

The crowd quietens a little in confusion. While they weren't buying King's spin on things, they were still wondering what it is that brings Dolly Waters out instead of Elon Musk and co.

Dolly Waters: Enough.

She shakes her head, exasperated with King bullshit.

Dolly Waters: I have spent the past two weeks negotiating over and over again ON YER’ BEHALF so that I could come out here, and the moment that I do, you make me regret it.

King scrunches his face up.

Kieran King: What do you mean?

Dolly Waters: While yer’ out here prattling off about how nobody is fighting for you, I've actually been doing the work and FIGHTING FOR YOU.

This issue between you and the Trillionaires? It's an employment issue! And you are still a union member.

Which means I've gone to bat for you and got the ban they placed on you lifted.

Congratulations, Kieran…

Even though she speaks the truth, Dolly sounds incredibly sarcastic as she speaks.

Dolly Waters: …Yer’ back on the roster.

The crowd rises in response to Dolly’s news.

JC: Why Dolly? Why do you have to always try to do the right thing?

Kieran meanwhile, looks suspicious.

Kieran King: That's a funny response to me beating your ass last week.

Dolly sighs again.

Dolly Waters: It's something you'll never understand. You never wanted the outcome, you just wanted the title; the recognition; the name.

But you're not steering this ship anymore. And I mean it when I say that the union is fer’ everybody—even you.

Problem is, even if the union is fer’ them, sometimes, not everyone is fer’ the union.

I'm starting to wonder if that applies to you.

Kieran King: I'm the entire reason that union was successfully approved!

Dolly Waters: That you are. But after doing a little record keeping, I can't seem to find documentation that yer’ reign as President was running meetings. I can't find evidence of accounting; I can't find evidence of membership communication; I can't find a lot of key information that the union's by-laws—and actually law—require for it to continue. Now, I've fixed all that up on the regulatory end, but it seems like some sort of disciplinary action is required against the former president who almost destroyed the union!

From in the ring, staring down the ramp to where Dolly stands, King squints.

He suspects something is up.

He's also right.

Dolly Waters: So in order to deal with the NCAC’s concerns about yer’ ongoing membership, and in order to deal with the conflict our employee has with yer’ ongoing employment, we've come to an agreement.

Kieran… yer’ going to have to EARN yer’ membership.

And yer’ employment.

Kieran King: I already have. A thousand times over!

Dolly Waters: I thought that might be yer’ response, and so we’re willing to give you something in this process too.

I know how much that loss to me must be eating you up. So I'm gonna give you what you want—a chance for redemption.

And if you win, you get to keep yer’ job.

Suddenly, King begins pacing about the ring.

Kieran King: No! No! No! That's not good enough! I’ll play your fucking game but I don't just want to fight you for MY survival, Dolly! I want to do it for YOURS too! This town ain't big enough for two union presidents!

Dolly Waters: Are you saying… LOSER LEAVES TOWN?

Kieran King: You're goddamn right I am!

Dolly Waters: You heard it here first, folks! A Loser Leaves Town match! And we're going to do it at Leap of Faith!

The crowd pops.

JR: This is huge! Someone is going to be forced out of the XWF for good!

Dolly Waters: Consider it locked in, Kieran. But… just one more thing…

I never said you'd be getting redemption against me.

The entire arena—Kieran, the announcers, the fans—are all confused by that line.

Kieran King: What are you talking about–

The lights die.

And when they return…

ALIAS.

The crowd loses their freaking minds.

Dolly Waters: At Leap of Faith, you get the match you called out for back at March Madness!

Kieran King!

Versus!

ALIAS!

LOSER LEAVES TOWN FOREVER!

Kieran is absolutely incensed, while his opponent stands motionless next to his friend Dolly Waters, staring a hole through King’a very soul.

[Image: jade-cargill-wwe-backlash-2024-v0-a2gyOH...55dd69bd0c]

[Image: jade-cargill-wwe-smackdown-may-10-2024-v...14553f65a4]

[Image: jade-cargill-v0-bDdsZzdodXdhYzFkMSOXnGmf...e8b3f56aa1]

JC: …Lotta time to make an entrance, huh, Brody.

BG: Shhhhhh, the best part’s coming…

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSiF23o0pxrVF7VSQreWpk...E&usqp=CAU]

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!

JC: Here she is! Latoya Hixx!

JR: She and the rest of the Chain Gang were lumberjacks at Anarchy, where John Blade challenged Betsy Granger for the Revolution Title… And even though Latoya wasn’t in the match, John AND the rest of the Chain Gang are BANNED from challenging for the Revolution Title so long as Betsy holds the belt!

JC: That’s gotta especially stick in the craw of Latoya Hixx… One might remember when Betsy made her return to Warfare, Latoya and Betsy dueled all over the arena… and Latoya ended up spearing Betsy off the second floor of the parking garage and through a car parked on the first floor!

JR: It was a no contest, Jacuinde! But Latoya seemed a little extra irritated throughout that affair! That her shot against Betsy was on the line without her competing… AND that Razor, Landerson, and John Blade all seemed unwilling to put the boot to Betsy’s throat in that lumberjack environment!

JC: Well, tonight, the Chain Gang are NOT a team! Latoya and John are two separate competitors, in a triple-threat with one of the best in all of wrestling! Can Latoya get the job done?

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!

…

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 fans. He salutes and runs straight down towards the platform!

JC: John Blade is certainly one of the most unique competitors! When he talks, it’s like nothing else anyone has ever heard!

JR: Are you sure? I kinda feel like his promo this week was a re-run.

JC: Be that as it may, John Blade has a victory over XWF Legend, ‘The Green Machine’ Barney Green! He’s a March Madness Quarterfinalist… in any other match, he might be the most decorated competitor among the field… but tonight, he’s facing a true legend… Can the Surgeon of Thug declare that his time is now once more!

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!

…

The arena lights dim as the bassline to "Blood" begins to rumble around the arena. As the guitar riff hits, so does the lights, revealing Mark "The Dragon" Cross standing, one fist aloft, at the top of the aisle.

JC: MARK ‘THE DRAGON’ CROSS! DId anyone have him returning to the XWF on their bingo card?!?

JR: Was a real shock seeing his name on the card, Jacuinde! But, you can’t get bigger than Mark Cross! Cross has made special appearances in the past in the XWF, but tonight is made a little extra special by the presence of greatness!

JC: Ya gotta figure Mark is the favorite to win this one… but nothing’s guaranteed in the XWF! Will The Dragon have what it takes to slay the competition here?

Receiving recognition from the crowd, he strides purposefully to ringside, taking a moment to survey the scene as he reaches the apron.

…

Only for Blade and Latoya to both start stomping out Cross as he rolls under the bottom rope!

JC: Oh my God! It’s an ambush before the bell has rung!

JR: Looks like the Chain Gang is stomping in the Dragon! Mazel Tov! That’s a big gesture in gang culture!

The official is shocked… but decides to ring the bell!

Latoya Hixx
- vs -
Mark Cross
- vs -
John Blade
Triple Threat Match

Cross tries to raise his guard from the mat, but Hixx and Blade both laser-target their strikes on the downed Cross… When Cross covers his face to block Blade’s mounted punches, Hixx drops a knee straight onto his gut!

When Cross tries to burst for the ropes to buy himself a break from the beatdown, Blade catches him with a boot across the heel, tripping him… And Latoya manages a running STOMP to the back of the head, sending Cross back to the mat!

JC: Oh my Gosh! Mark Cross is one of the best to ever run the ropes, but John Blade and Latoya Hixx aren’t even letting him out of the starting block!

JR: Why would they, Jacuinde? They wanna win this match! Letting the dragon even take a breath means you’re gonna get a face full of fire!

Cross, through sheer force of will, manages to muscle himself up to a vertical base, through the onslaught of physical blows from The Storm and The Surgeon of Thug.

As Cross rises, Hixx reels back her arm… AND CHOPS him across the chest! Cross doubles over, shielding his chest…

Only for Blade to follow up the chop with a knee lift to the skull!

JC: The Chain Gang is just too much for The Dragon!

JR: How do you slay a Dragon, Jacuinde? WIth a blade! And a storm!

Blade and Hixx both take Cross by the arms to Irish Whip across the ring…

Cross sprints across the mat…

Blade and Hixx both double-over, looking for a tandem flapjack…

But Cross manages to rotate mid-run, and flip over his opponents!

JC: Oh my GOD! The sheer agility of The Dragon!

Cross backs up into the ropes off the flip, building up a head of steam!

Hixx sets her feet, ready to meet Cross with a counter…

JC: I think Hixx thinks she can out-speed Cross!

Cross sprints forward… mentally calculating the speed he has to travel to bypass a standing Hixx’s defenses…

But behind Hixx, Blade dropkicks Hixx from behind!

Launching her forward into The Dragon! The two knocks heads!

JC: Whoa! John Blade just basically launched Hixx forward when Cross thought her feet were planted!

JR: A brilliant counter by John Blade, using his partner as a weapon! That’s why he’s a surgeon!

As their skulls collide, Hixx collapses flat on her ass… And Cross looks like he might be knocked out on the mat!

JC: The hardest part of Latoya Hixx is her skull!

Cross tries to shake off cobwebs… palming the mat to get back on his feet…

But Blade sees his moment! He grabs Cross by the skull and lifts him off the mat… up on his shoulders!

Standing beside the ropes!

JC: Oh God! Blade is going to hit his patented Death Valley Driver… And throw Cross over the top rope and outside the ring!

JR: They call him the Surgeon of Thug! And it looks like tonight, he’s going to surically remove 10 to 15 years off Cross’s career!

Blade draws his hand across his face, telling the arena…

YOU

CAN’T

PERCEIVE

MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Aaaaaaaand

WHAM!

DEATH VALLEY DRIVER OVER THE TOP ROPE!

Cross lands with a sickening SPLAT to the padded concrete outside the ring!

JC: Oh my God! That was awful! That sounded like a crash test dummy made out of wet meat getting thrown off a roof!

Hixx shoves off the mat, rubbing her skull as Blade pumps his fist, pointing at his wrist, telling the fans his time is IN THE PRESENT!

John turns around, telling Latoya to come with him to keep laying down the beard-

WHAM! When Blade turns around, Latoya catches him with a Bicycle Kick to the skull!

JC: Oh my GOD! Latoya just took John Blade’s skull off! I think she didn’t appreciate getting used like a blunt object by Blade… and she decided to take the blunt side of her boot and knock John Blade’s block off!

JR: Whoa! Blade thought his time was now… but he didn’t see the storm was COMING!

Blade flops on his back looking knocked out…

Cross is outside, trying to force himself up… but he’s too beaten down…

Hixx, rubbing her aching scalp, leans down and hooks Blade’s leg!

The official counts!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

WInner: Latoya Hixx

Hixx sits up and pumps her fist, as the official raises her arm!

JC: Wow! Latoya Hixx pulls a huge win over a March Madness semi-finalist AND a world champion across the wrestling industry!

JR: Some truly strange things happen in the XWF, but Latoya Hixx scoring a win over Mark Cross might just take the cake! A HUGE win for Latoya!

JC: Welcome back to Warfare, wrestling fans! Up next we have a contest that could -like the majority of matches on this GOHOME program- have major implications as we head toward Leap of Faith.

JR: I don’t know how anyone could argue otherwise. We’re about to watch a match up between two of the brightest rising stars in XWF today. Each with an opportunity to show that they can go the distance with the other, in a best 2 out 3 falls match.

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.

JC: And hre comes -arguably- the brightest of those rising stars now, Remi Storm!

JR: High-risk has meant high-reward so far for Remi. Currently undefeated in XWF. She has come from seemingly nowhere and made a major impact already.

JC: And you love to see it!

JR: Listen to these fans! They love to SEE HER!

JC: Relatively green as a pro wrestler, but as you pointed out Joe, Remi Storm has made a big impact already. And we’re all ready to see if that continues here tonight as she positions herself for big opportunities at Leap of Faith.

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.

Darkness. Silence. A pause.

"Hey, that your boyfriend?"

"True Believers" by DON BROCO feat. Sam Carter starts as the crowd starts a deafening chorus of boos. A spotlight.

"And that big red flag they waving, it's your choice."

The automatons, bearing their respective symbols on their masks appear, two on either side of the spotlight. X, O, Triangle and Square. A helicopter hovers now. From it comes a ladder that lowers down onto the spotlight, carrying Jordan Penn in his masked Director persona. He descends fully and kneels as his minions follow suit.

"All the true believers, All the true believers, All the true believers..."

"WAKE THE FUCK UP!"

In that moment, he removes his mask as pyro explodes onto the stage behind him. Two other men join the entourage now, Greg Brune and Wallace.

Jordan strides single-mindedly and quickly toward the ring, flanked by his four masked and two unmasked men.

JC: And here he comes, Joe… One-Half of the XWF Tag Team Champions, Jordan Penn.

JR: When it comes to recent results, Jordan has been… up and down. But it doesn’t change the fact about who he is; a man who gets what he wants.

JC: Be it in the head of his brother Sebastian Everette-Bryce, be it a pillar of perhaps the most dangerous faction in the XWF today, say what you will, Jordan Penn is a master at dictating the outcomes of any given situation.

JR: All true, Jack, and it doesn’t change the fact that Remi Storm tonight is going to have to not only deal with Jordan Penn, but with the 6 other men who are escorting him down to ringside tonight. Because when The Director says “Lights. Camer. Action!” the ring becomes his production.

As he reaches the edge of the ring, he surveys the crowd, taking in their boos and letting it fuel him. A wry smile etched across his face, he laughs and looks to his men. The masked men get on all fours and form a human staircase for him. He walks across their backs with purpose and enters the ring. Wallace nods, signaling for the masked men to head backstage. Wallace and Greg Brune take their places on either side of the ring as Jordan mockingly does a pageant wave to the crowd, met with more booing. He flips off the audience in at least three different ways before leaning on the turnbuckle and looking out once more at the crowd and waiting for the match to begin.

Remi Storm
- vs -
Jordan Penn
Two Out of Three Falls Match

DING DING DING!

The match begins with the crowd clearly favoring Remi. They’re chanting her name as she crouches forward and shuffles her feet toward Penn.

Penn seems to be inviting her in for a grappling contest, but just as she nears him, the tag team champion gracefully drops and rolls under the bottom rope to the arena floor.

The crowd begins showering him with boos.

Remi throws her hands in the air and then on her hips, while Jordan smirks at her from outside the ring.

He struts around the outside, consulting his entourage, and jawing with random fans.

1!

2!!

3!!!

4!!!!

We get to the 8 count and Penn rolls back in the ring, breaking the count - - -

ONLY TO ROLL RIGHT BACK TO THE FLOOR!

1!

2!!

JC: It seems as if Jordan Peen’s direction for this match is only light and camera right now… no action. And these fans are letting him hear about it.

JR: It’s Christopher Nolan level genius though, Jack! If Remi can’t attack him, how is she ever supposed to win?

3!!!

Remi is beside herself in the center of the ring… literally.

On the outside, just in front of the ramp, Jordan Penn is taunting with his entourage. He notices the look of dismay on Remi’s face and begins an exaggerated mocking of his opponent, balling his fists up near his eyes and pretending to weep.

They all point and laugh at Remi, who has seen more than enough.

She hits the ropes, gets a full head of steam and then- - -

VAULTS OVER THE ROPES WITH A DIVING CROSSBODY TO THE FLOOR - WIPING OUT ALL OF JORDAN’S MEN

JC: What an amazing display of athleticism there by, Remi Storm!

JR: But she just narrowly missed the most important target of all, her opponent!

JC: Well, her opponent just literally pushed his own man, Wallace, in front of him and slipped out of the way.

The crowd gives Remi a huge pop for the display. She starts to push herself up on her arms, but here comes Penn from the side.

He sends an ugly looking boot right into her rides. She flops over, and Penn stays on the attack. Sending stomps to her shoulder, then to the b ack of her spine. Then he snags her up by the hair and sends running head first CRACK- - -INTO THE STEEL RING POST!

Remi ricochettes off of the post and collapses to the floor. All while the crowd continues to rain boos down on Jordan Penn. He slides back in the ring as he hears the count reach

6!!!!!!

He taunts in the center of the ring

7!!!!!!!
JC: With Remi Storm laid out on the floor, Jordan Penn is looking to steal an early fall here in this best 2 out 3 match up.

JR: Brilliant moves here by Penn in the early going. He has completely taken Remi out of this match all while barely lifting a finger- and now- he’s about to score an early victory.

JC: You can call it brilliant if you want, Joe. I call it something else…

8!!!!!!!!

9!!!!!!!!!

1 REMI!!!!!!!!!! 0

THE GUTSY REMI STORM SLIDES BACK IN THE RING RIGHT BEFORE THE COUNT OF TEN - - -AVOIDING TAKING THE CHEAP FALL BY PENN

But Penn doesn’t give her any time to gather herself. He’s striking her as she tries to get to a vertical base. He throws her into the ropes and on the rebound - - -SPINNING BACKFIST - - - THE REMI DUCKS UNDER!

She keeps running, hits the next set of ropes- - -springboards and DROPKICKS PENN RIGHT IN THE FACE!!!

SHE COVERS!!!

1!

2!!

NEARFALL!

Penn just barely kicks out and has an absolute shellshocked expression on his face- meanwhile though- Remi isn’t giving him any breathing room now.

She positions herself over him, and swiftly locks in a TRIANGLE SLEEPER HOLD!

Remi wrenches back as Jordan’s arms flail around. He’s scrambling - desperate to brak free and just luckily grabs ahold of the ring ropes.

“GET HER OFF ME- GET HER OFF ME!” Jordan roars out

The ref steps in and forces a break, to which Remi agrees with little resistance.

But Jordan doesn’t play fair!

He uses the ropes to his advantage, and keeps Remi up in position around his shoulders before she can fully break the hold. He takes off running with her and - - -OUCH! - - - HUGE BUCKLEBOMB FROM PENN!

Remi thrashes into the corner, and falls down onto her rear.

JC: Another devious stunt there by Jordan Penn!

JR: And now he’s like a predator stalking his prey.

Remi is laying on her back now as Penn approaches. Smugly. Strutting. Wiping a dap of blood from his lip with his thumb, sensing that he’s in the drivers seat now - - - MONKEY FLIP - - - THUD!!!!!

Remi lifts her legs and vaults Penn over hear head - - -SENDING HIM SHOULDER FIRST THROUGH THE ROPES AND INTO THE STEEL TURNBUCKLE POST

JC: For a rookie, that was quite the cagey move there by Remi!

BUT SHE’S NOT DONE!

While Jordan is stumbles back away from the turnbuckle - - - REMI ROLLS HIM UP!

SCHOOLBOY

1!

2!!

NEARFALL!!!

Jordan and Remi both pop to their feet.

He charges her with a forearm smash - - -but Remi ducks!

BACKFLIP KICK!!!!

Penn hits the mat, and now Remi makes her way to the turnbuckle… but whats this???

JC: It’s that bastard Wallace up on the apron!

The ref stops what they’re doing and runs over to stop Wallace from entering the ring,

Remi is distracted for just a second, but just long enough for GREG BRUNE TO COME FROM BEHIND REMI AND PUSH HER OFF THE TOP ROPE!

The ref never spotted it and now Remi takes a hard tumble to the canvas. The ref turns around confused as Penn now recovers, lifts Remi and - - - OUCH!

BACKBREAKER TO REMI!

Jordan stumbles up to his feet, and wobbles his way over to the turnbuckle… he climbs up

DIVINGHEADBUTT!!!!!

THAT MISSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Penn’s head whiplashes against the canvass as Remi stands and runs to the ropes.

She hits the first set - - -runs by Penn as he gets to his feet - - - hits the second set

HANDSPRINGS

SATALITE DDT!

JORDAN’S HEAD IS PLANTED INTO THE MAT AGAIN

THE CROWD GOES WILD!

REMI COVERS!

1!

2!!

3!!!

FALLS:
Remi Storm - 1
Jordan Penn - 0

JC: Out of nowhere! Remi Storm has roared back here to score the first fall of this match, Joe!

JR: Give her credit! She’s tenacious. She has a great motor! But is the motor of the rookie built to outlast the genius of Jordan Penn? There’s still a lot of match left!

WAIT!

REMI STORM ISN’T WAITING AROUND OR CATCHING HER BREATH!

SHE KIPUPS TO HER FEET

BOLTS OVER TO THE TURNBUCKLE!

JC: Remi said this week that when she scores that first pinfall, that she was going to look down on Penn and know that she still had more to take! Those words are coming to life right now!

But once again it’s Wallace up on the apron, distracting the ref!

And here comes Greg again from behind - - -BUT THIS TIME REMI ANTICIPATES IT - - - she trunks and HEADSCISSORS TAKEDOWN FROM THE APRON TO THE FLOOR ON GREG!

The crowd goes crazy as Remi foils the devious action by Penn’s minions.

But Wallace still has the ref’s full attention, and now the masked men on the outside start pounding on Remi.

Punches.

Kicks.

One even hits an inverted atomic drop.

And another sends her head into the turnbuckle post for the second time tonight.

JC: This is ridiculous, Joe! This match should be over

JR: Ewww, gross! Remi is bleeding everywhere now too!

The masked men roll the incapacitated Remi back into the ring to a smiling Jordan Penn.

He lays on her for the pinfall just as Wallace leaves the ref alone.

1!

JC:Such a cheap fall here

2!!

3 - NOOOOOOOOOO - FOOT ON THE ROPE!!!!!!!!!

Jordan nearly leaps off the pinfall to scream at the ref.

The ref motions to Remi’s foot, and makes his case clear for stopping the pinfall.

This pisses Penn off, who shoves the ref down and then snatches the bleeding Remi up by the hair again.

He puts her in position, about to deliver a big move - when the rebounding ref gets in the middle of the exchange, shoving Penn back and raising a finger. Threatening to disqualify him.

Penn yells back in the ref’s face - but in that moment - Remi recovers and comes over the top with yet another backflip kick to Penn’s temple.

Penns crumbles to the mat, and now Remi is headed back to the turnbuckle… BUT IT’S WALLACE AGAIN ON THE APRON

The ref moves over to stop him

BUT BEFORE HE EVEN GETS THERE - - -REMI CLOBBERS WALLACE WITH AN ATTACK - - -BLASTING PENN’S ACCOMPLICE TO THE FLOOR!

THE CROWD IS TIRRING.

ROARING

REMI STEADIES HER LEGS

CLIMBS THE TOP ROPE AND SIZES UP PENN….

TWISTED

TEMPEST!!!!!

The inverted phoenix splash is executed with precision!

She looks the leg!

1!

2!!

3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FALLS:
Remi Storm - 2
Jordan Penn - 0

Winner: Remi Storm

The arena goes dark as Parkway Drive’s “Crushed” growls to life through the speakers. The low, distorted riff reverberates through the building, and the crowd erupts in anticipation. Red lights pulse in time with the bass, casting the arena in a steady, heartbeat-like glow. Smoke begins to pour from the stage, rising into the air as the tron shows hourglasses spilling sand and statues shattering.

Through the haze, Ken Davison steps forward.

He pauses at the top of the ramp, head bowed, letting the moment breathe. Then, slowly, he lifts his arms outward into his cruciform pose. The crowd swells, rising to their feet, chanting his name as the red light frames him like something carved from myth rather than flesh.

Ring Announcer: “From Baltimore, Maryland… weighing in at two hundred and twenty-four pounds… ‘Godly’ Ken Davison!”

Ken lowers his arms and begins his march down the ramp, each step measured, deliberate, in sync with the pounding drums. His expression is calm, focused, and unshaken. Fans lean over the barricade, reaching for him, and he brushes fingertips with them as he passes, brief contact that feels more ritual than celebration.

JC: There he is! ‘Godly’ Ken Davidson! The man who beat XWF Legend Centurion at his own anniversary show!

JR: One of the best to ever do it, Jacuinde! Ken Davidson has dominated the sport of wrestling everywhere that he’s gone! And he’s about to add one more company to that resume of dominance! The XWF!

JC: He was very impressive against a fellow legend of the game like Centurion! But, tonight, he’s got a very different challenge! Younger… greener… but with an almost limitless capacity to climb! Can Davidson handle one of the most unique challenger on the XWF roster?

At ringside, he stops.

Ken looks out over the crowd for a moment, taking them in, not with pride, but with quiet certainty. Then, without breaking that composure, he turns and slams his palm against the apron with a sharp crack that cuts through the music.

He climbs the steps and steps through the ropes with precise, practiced intent.

At the center of the ring, Ken spreads his arms wide once more, commanding the space without saying a word. The red lights wash over him as the noise crescendos. Then he drops to one knee, presses his fist into the mat, and rises again, standing tall, eyes forward, ready.

…

The lights dim. A low, almost imperceptible hum of static rolls through the speakers. The crowd murmurs, unsure if this is intentional or a tech glitch.

A single cold white spotlight snaps on, not centered on the stage but slightly off to the left, like production missed their cue or Rowan Vance wasn’t where they expected him to be.

Then the unmistakable bassline of “Psycho Killer” by Talking Heads kicks in.

The crowd reacts instantly, some cheering, some laughing at the unexpected choice, all of them paying attention.

Rowan Vance steps into the light.

Hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted. Expression unreadable, like he’s listening to something only he can hear.

He doesn’t pose, he just starts walking. Slow, steady, deliberate. Sometimes a hand will come out to slap fives or fist bump those in the crowd.

Every few steps, he glances over his shoulder, not dramatically, just a subtle, instinctive check, like he heard a footstep behind him.

The spotlight follows him, but always a fraction of a second late, giving the whole thing a slightly off‑kilter, uncanny rhythm.

JC: There he is! Rowan Vance! The Pride and Joy of Harper’s Ferry! He’d gone undefeated his first few weeks as an XWF star!

JR: And then Remi Storm knocked his block off and tapped him out!

JC: Remi and Rowan are both new to the XWF, but together they stole the show and put on what some might argue to be the match of the night! And Rowan isn’t getting a week off following his first defeat… ‘Godly’ Ken Davidson might be one of the biggest names to come to the XWF this year!

JR: Rowan better pack himself a sack lunch for this one.!

JC: Cuz he’s got his work cut out for him, Joe?

JR: Yes, but also, he’s from West Virginia, so I assume his family can’t afford to buy lunch.

As he reaches the ramp, the lighting shifts: a faint blue haze rolls across the stage, giving him a silhouette that looks almost doubled, like someone is walking just behind him.

The crowd can’t tell if it’s a trick of the lights or something else.

Rowan reaches ringside. He pauses as the chorus hits that jittery, staccato vocal rhythm.

He still doesn’t position himself for photo opportunities, doesn’t smirk, just stops, his head turning slightly like he’s trying to locate a sound in the rafters.

Then he slides under the bottom rope with the same quiet, fluid motion he does everything else… As he stands, the arena lights flicker, just once.

Not enough to scream “supernatural.” Just enough to make the audience shift in their seats. Rowan doesn’t react, he’s used to it.

He walks to his corner, leans back against the turnbuckles, and waits, hands still in his pockets, eyes scanning the arena like he’s cataloguing every noise, every movement, every pattern.

Across the ring, Rowan Vance stood with his shoulders loose and his jaw tight, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. His eyes never stopped moving. Not at the crowd. Not at the referee. At Ken Davison’s hands. His hips. The angle of his stance.

Opposite him, Godly Ken Davison barely moved at all.

The veteran simply rolled his neck once and stared at Rowan with the expression of a priest preparing a confession booth.

JC: “You can feel the tension in this building already. Rowan Vance knows this is the biggest test of his young career.”

JR: “Yeah, and this dude across from him is a killer, man. Ken Davidson’s one of those old-school veterans that doesn’t waste movement. Everything means something.”

DING DING

‘Godly’ Ken Davidson
- vs -
Rowan Vance
Singles Match

Rowan cautiously circled first.

Ken didn’t.

That alone made Rowan narrow his eyes.

The rookie extended a hand for a collar-and-elbow tie-up—

—but the instant Rowan stepped in, Ken subtly shifted his lead foot backward.

Rowan immediately aborted the lock-up and backed away, resuming circling

A tiny smirk crossed Ken’s lips.

JC: …What the hell was that just now, Joe?

JR: Ken was trying to bait Rowan into a counter grapple immediately. Rowan realized he was stepping into a setup and stepped back to re-assess.

JC: …Huh! It is very dangerous to get into any kind of grapple with a man with three decades of experience in the ring like the Godly One… Rowan Vance taking this opportunity to rethink his approach…

Rowan exhaled through his nose and nodded to himself. No panic. Just processing.

He circled again, slower now. Deliberate…

Ken cranks his neck side to side, before stepping forward, offering the lock-up first.

Rowan leans forward, ready to lock up….

Their hands connected—

—and immediately Ken twisted into a standing wristlock, torquing the arm with brutal precision.

JR: And the first sequence has Davidson in control! How will a rookie like Vance respond?

JC: Vance is young but he never stops thinking about the sport… never stops re-tooling and improving his processes… this will be a true test of his mettle against a longtime veteran like Davidson!

Rowan’s face pinched sharply from the pressure, but instead of fighting the hold directly, he dipped his shoulder and rolled through forward, twisting into a reversal of his own, resetting the pair back to a collar-and-elbow…

Before Rowan manages to follow that transition into a hammerlock, pressing chest-to-back against the veteran.

The crowd applauded the smooth transition.

Ken’s face hardened with irritation at being controlled by someone this inexperienced. He reached backward, trapped Rowan’s fingers, then violently spun through into a snap standing switch before muscling Rowan down to the mat with a grinding rear waistlock takedown.

Rowan hit hard.

Ken leaned his weight into the rookie’s spine.

JC: Beautiful chain wrestling from both men.”

JR: But you feel the difference in strength immediately. Rowan’s wiry and elusive, but Ken’s got the strength AND the technique advantage from his decades of experience!

Rowan’s jaw clenched as Ken’s forearm dug across his mouth. He planted his palms against the canvas, trying to create leverage.

Ken saw the shift instantly.

And smiled.

The veteran abruptly released the waistlock and slapped Rowan hard across the back of the head.

The crowd gave an audible oooh.

JC: My, oh my! Not much injury there except to Vance’s pride… and maybe to the chances they’ll be able to get a beer and talk shop after the match…

JR: Ohhhh, that’s veteran stuff. That’s psychological warfare right there!

Rowan froze for half a second on all fours.

Then slowly looked back over his shoulder.

Ken simply gestured at him to… Come on.

Rowan stood carefully.

His expression didn’t change much, but his breathing deepened slightly.

JC: If Ken was hoping to throw Rowan off his game, Rowan looks like he’s still patiently attacking, still palming the fortress that is Davidson’s grappling technique for potential weaknesses!

JR: Newsflash, Jacuinde! There are none!

The two circled again.

This time Rowan shot low unexpectedly, grabbing a single leg.

Ken’s eyes widened for the first time as Rowan rolled through into the “Crossroads of Harpers Ferry,” twisting the leg and dragging the veteran into a grounded elbow barrage.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

The crowd starts to buzz with surprise and excitement!

JC: Wow! It’s looking like Vance has the vet right where Vance wants him!

Ken covered up immediately, raising his guard, absorbing the blows against his forearms before angrily extending his palms to Rowan away with both hands.

Rowan popped back to his feet fast, eager to chase back in to resume the assault…

—and walked directly into a vicious dragon screw leg whip.

The torque spun Rowan inside out.

He clutched at his knee instantly.

Ken sat up slowly, glaring now.

No more amusement.

JC: Pure veteran instinct on display from Davidson!

JOE ROGAN: Thirty years on top of the wrestling world, baby! Rowan got aggressive one time and Ken punished the exact limb he needed to punish. He shut down the rookie before he even really got started!

Ken rose methodically and grabbed the damaged leg.

Rowan immediately scooted backward toward the ropes.

Ken followed.

No wasted motion.

No hesitation.

He stomped directly onto the inside of Rowan’s thigh.

Rowan grimaced hard and grabbed the ropes.

ONE!

TWO

Ken clinches the hold… If anything, after Rowan grabs the ropes, Davidson looks like he’s trying to apply **increased** torque!

JR: The Godly One is as wily as they come! He knows he has a five-count and he’s using every bit of it to physically punish Rowan Vance!

THREE!

FOUR!

F-

Ken backed off cleanly just after four….

But not before leaning down and quietly saying something directly into Rowan’s ear.

Rowan’s expression changed instantly.

The rookie’s eyes narrowed.

JC: I don’t know what was said there…

JR: Probably just describing how he personally wished Mrs. Mama Vance a Happy Mother’s Day down in her trailer park in Harper’s Ferry!

Rowan pulled himself up using the ropes.[/white]

Ken immediately rushed him—

—but Rowan reacted instinctively.

DROPKICK.

The shot blasted Ken square in the chest and sent him backward into the ropes.

The crowd erupted.

Rowan kipped halfway up before the damaged knee buckled underneath him.

That hesitation cost him.

Ken surged forward immediately with a running shoulderbreaker, wrenching Rowan’s arm violently on impact.

Rowan screamed out and rolled across the canvas clutching his shoulder.

Ken sat up breathing heavier now, frustration beginning to seep through his composure.

JC: Wow! Incredible recovery by the Godly One! He tanked through that dropkick… It clearly hurt, but when Davidson saw that ripple of pain shoot through Vance’s knee, it was like a reflex kicked in to follow up and deliver the pain!

JR: That’s the thing about Ken Davidson. Once he smells weakness, he becomes a shark.

JC: But, despite that potentially injured knee Rowan Vance keeps answering him!

Ken dragged Rowan up by the wrist.

The veteran’s face twisted with grim focus now. No arrogance. Just intent.

He hooked Rowan for a vertical suplex—

—but Rowan suddenly slipped free behind him.

The crowd came alive.

Ken turned—

STEP-UP ENZIGURI.

CRACK.

Ken stumbled sideways.

Rowan saw the opening.

His eyes widened with urgency.

He sprinted toward the ropes—

SPRINGBOARD CUTTER—

NO.

Ken shoved him away midair.

Rowan crashed hard onto his back.

The veteran immediately lunged forward and trapped the legs.

CLOVERLEAF.

The torque folded Rowan in half.

The rookie screamed and clawed at the canvas as Ken sat deep into the hold.

JC: Davidson has him trapped! And that cloverleaf is applying a monstrous amount of torque on Vance’s knee! This could be the end of the match!

JR: This could be the end of Rowan Vance’s CAREER, Jacuinde!

Rowan’s hands shook as he reached.

Not for the ropes.

For Ken’s ankle.

Ken realized it a second too late.

Rowan yanked hard and twisted into a small package counter.

ONE—

TWO—

KEN KICKED OUT. He backwards rolls out of the small package!

…Rowan clocks it as Ken remains on his feet, before charging Vance… Vance from the mat goes for a…

SUPERKICK!

…

NO!

Vance slips under! Davidson’s boot sails by… He spins around back toward Van-

PATTERN BREAKER.

…

NO!

Rowan intercepted Ken’s attempted kick mid-motion with the sudden counter-superkick.

Ken staggered.

The crowd exploded.

Rowan’s breathing became frantic now. Hope. Momentum. Desperation.

Ken charges in for a desperation lariat…

But, Rowan hooks him again, going for a…

BACKSLIDE!

JR: Vance knows he can’t beat Davidson straight-up! He’s trying to steal this one!

Davidson’s shoulder are pressed against the mat! The official drops!

But before he can even count one, Davidson rolls backwards onto his feet…

….

But Rowan scoops forward, cinching him in a front facelock while Davidson’s still got a knee on the mat!

JC: What a read by Rowan! He picked up how Ken recovered from that first roll-up and turned that window Davidson was rolling into an opening to exploit! That’s what makes Rowan so dangerous! He never stops calculating!

Rowan hooked Ken instantly—

SNAP DRAGON SUPLEX—

BRIDGE.

JC: He got ALL of that one! Davidson’s skull hit the mat HARD!

JR: Just you wait, Ken’s about to turn this one around!

ONE—

TWO—

THREE!

JR: WHAT?!?

Winner: Rowan Vance

With the count of three, the victor rolls off, breathing heavily.

Rowan comes up off the mat, clutching his knee… before raising a fist to the crowd in victory!

JC: What a feather in the cap of a promising young athlete like Rowan Vance! Davidson is no slouch, he’s been a multi-time world champion in top-tier wrestling organizations around the globe! This just goes to show how elite the XWF’s talent pool is! That anyone can beat anyone on any given night!

JR: It’s a fluke and a travesty is what it is, Jacuinde! The Godly One just let this one out of his sight and Rowan Vance illegitimately… look, the kid got lucky! And I guarantee Ken Davidson will correct the score next time they met!

JC: I guarantee to you, Joe! If Ken lays down the challenge to a young man like Rowan Vance, Vance is going to accept that challenge eagerly!

The camera drone sweeps across the masses that make up just a fraction of the XWF universe. Signs curse out Charlie Nickles and the Brotherhood. Others mock the weakness of the Exiles and other fan favourites. The camera focuses on one that has a cut out of Dickie Watson, praising his charming aloofness.

“GIMME DICKIE”

JR: Ladies and gentlemen, this one has been brewing ALL week long. Two men with very different views of professional wrestling are about to CRASH.

JC: Different views? These two just spen the entire week calling each other frauds. Trauma exhibits.

JR: ...Yeah they already hate each other. Doesn’t help that they have whole factions behind them.

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

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

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?
Can I trust you without failing you?
Gonna tell you what the secret is...
You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

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

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

“Ladies and gentlemen this match is set for one-fall! Introducing first, claiming London, England as his home…. And representing the House of Hardcore - he is Dickie Watson!”

He rounds the corner to right, bypasses the steps, and jumps, both feet hitting the apron in one clean lift. Without grabbing the ropes, without pause, he slings himself over the top and lands near the dead center of the ring, bent knees taking the brunt of his leap.

JC: Former Universal Champ and arguably one of the most dangerous men in XWF…

JR: An according to Mr Hayes, a Hot Topic mannequin with unresolved abandonment issues.

He circles the ring once, loose-limbed, cracking his neck slightly, and stops. Near the far corner, he crouches with his elbows on his knees, fingers dangling inbetween as his music fades.

The opening riff to "Song for the Dead" by Queens of the Stone Age kicks in. At the 37 second mark, the name "Asher Hayes" blares through the PA system, and Asher appears on the stage, wearing a long leather jacket, his face full of focus. He bows down for a few moments before standing up straight, throwing both fists in the air, before making his way towards the ring.

“It's late enough to go driving
And see what's mine
Life's the study of dying
How to do it right"

He makes his way down the ramp as the reaction of the crowd rains down upon him. He walks up the ring steps and climbs to the top turnbuckle, lifting both fists into the air, slinging the jacket off his shoulders, simply looking at the crowd before dropping down and running to the opposite side.

“You're a holy roller
If you bettin' to lose
If you're hanging around
I'm holding the noose"

He stands, once again, on the top rope. His expression remains focused as he looks toward the ceiling, before dropping down, removing his jacket and handing his belongings to the ref.

JR: And here comes the man who believes this generation took his blueprint and turned it into some kinda parody.

JC: Well… He’s not wrong about some of it, I guess?

"Ah, ah, ah, ah
Ah, ah, ah, ah
Ah, ah, ah, ah
Ah, ah, ah, ah
Come a little bit closer
And get untied
In a hearse rolling over
Just a track in the line
Fuck it..."

Asher then leans into the corner, before glaring down Watson with a smile on his face.

Dickie doesn’t blink.

The bell rings.

And immediately Dickie explodes out from his crouched position straight into an arm drag.

Hayes grimaces as his back hits the mat before bouncing back up onto his feet.

Another arm drag, again Hayes is back up on his feet.

JR: Dickie’s not stopping!

Watson drops him to the mat with a dropkick to the knees. Followed up by a quick thrust of his palm into Haye’s jaw.

Asher drops to the mat but before Dickie can capitalize, rolls himself out of the ring to regroup.

Dickie eyes glint with malice as he charges the ropes.

JC: Too fast from Watson!

Asher Hayes grabs the top rope, releasing it just in time to smack into Dickie’s face, throwing the man back into the ring.

JR: Veteran awareness by Hayes!

Asher drags him outside from the bottom rope and immediately whips him hard into the outside barricade.

JC: Cool violence from Asher!

Asher grabs Dickie by the jaw and starts yelling into his face. “You done doing circus tricks, Watson?” His eyes scream with a sick glee. Dickie spits at his boots. Asher grimaces before whipping back into the ring.

Dickie scrambles to his feet before hitting the ropes again, he meets Asher just as the Veteran enters the ring. He leaps into the air. CAUGHT by Hayes. Maneuevered midair by Watson.

JC: TILT-A-WHIRL DDT WHAT DEXTERITY!

Hayes’ head bounces off the mat hard, and Dickie quickly transitions into a deep basement drop kick. He follows up with quick kicks to the body and thighs taking Hayes to his back.

JR: And he ain’t done yet!

Dickie extends his arms out and leaps into the air, flipping beautifully into a standing shooting star press. PIN!

1!!!

2!!!!

Asher kicks out! Dickie is back onto his feet, back at the ropes he leaps. Watson springboards beautifully -

JC: LARIAT MID-AIR BY HAYES!

Dickie folds inside out and crumples to the mat. The crowd explodes into a deep OOOOOH.

JR: That’s what Hayes has been talking about all week!

JC: Nearly took the former champs head off.

Asher slows the pace down immediately, methodical in his attacks. He pulls Dickie into a hammerlock, resting to catch his own breath. A painful knee presses against Watson’s spine, he grins his forearm beneath his opponents jaw.

JR: Asher’s talking to him!

“All movement, all flash… No substance.”

Dickie claws towards the ropes, only for Asher to drag him back.

“You don’t KNOW this business, kid.”

Dickie finally slips free and manages to cling to the ropes. Asher wrenches back the hold a little harder until the ref breaks them up. He sticks his hands in the air and backs off with a shit-eating grin on his face. Dickie slowly pulls himself up against the ropes. Haye’s charges forward-

JC: PELE KICK FROM WATSON!

Both men are stunned, wobbling at the feet. Dickie musters his strength and rushes in straight into a SPINEBUSTER!

Asher floats straight into his Dream Killer submission and Dickie screams out.

JR: Hayes is targeting everything tonight! Neck, shoulders, lower back.

JC: Because if Watson can’t move, he can’t fight.

Dickie barely manages to scrap the ropes, Asher refuses to break against till he’s forced to. He lets out a deep chuckle, dropping to a squat in mockery of Dickie. He lets his opponent slowly rise to his feet to see him.

Dickie flips him off.

The two clash in the center of the ring, classic elbow-and-collar-tie-up. Hayes overpowers the smaller man, taking him to one corner of the ring, only for Dickie to slip under the hold and catch him a drop toe-hold. Haye’s face bounces off the top turnbuckle and before he can catch himself - Dickie is throwing hard strikes, less finesse at Asher.

Forearms come smashing down to the back of Asher. Chops to the side of the face.

A speedy roundhouse kick.

Asher laughs again as he eats the last one.

Dickie only hits him harder.

JC: There it is! Hayes is getting what he wanted!

JR: Watson seems to be fighting emotional!

Dickie springs to the apron, leaps onto the third rope - SPRINGBOARD TORNADO DDT!

The crowd goes wild as both man land hard on the mat. Dickie rolls to the corner of the ring, uses the ropes to aid him and finds his way to the top rope.

JR: Looking like he’s tryna end it!

JC: HAYES MOVES OUT OF THE WAY!

Dickie violently crashes into the mat, grabbing his ribs in pain. The crowd groans a lot with him. Asher doesn’t capitalize immediately, instead he just points and mocks Dickie to the crowd. SEE.

Dickie sees it and slams his fists into the mat. He fires a wild strike from the mat, catches Hayes by the ankle and dropping him. Dickie mounts the man and starts raining a flurry of punches from above.

He pushes himself off Hayes and starts stopping at the man, shoulders, knees, ribs.

JR: Watson is on fire!

JC: He’s sick of all of Haye’s mocking.

Dickie hoists Hayes up onto his feet and whips him hard into the corner buckle. Dickie crouches and tries to hoist Asher onto his shoulders for a buckle bomb - Hayes racks at his eyes forcing Watson to let the big man go. Hayes pushes himself off from the corner and charges at dickie.

JC: SUPERKICK FROM DICKIE!

JR: NO!

Asher ducks under the kick, wraps an arm around Dickie’s torso and flings him back into the turnbuckle with a FISHERMAN’S SUPLEX!

Asher, with a smile on his face, pulls Hayes back from the carnage of the turnbuckle and into a pin.

1!!!

2!!!

“I got a bone to pick!”

KICK OUT BY DICKIE!

JR: What’s he doing out here!

JC: Isaiah King! After their vicious attack on Penn, Hayes and Myst last week - King looks like he’s out for more.

Isaiah King stands by the top of the ramp with cool composure. He paces at the top of the stage and signals for them to continue fighting. Asher glares at him, enough to take his eyes off of Dickie who wiggles free from him.

Asher slides out of the ring, jabbing fingers at Isaiah, demanding he mind his own business.

Dickie bounds off the ropes, leaps through the second and third and hits Hayes with a picture perfect suicide dive, wiping Asher ribs first into the barricade.

JR: Caught him lackin!

Isaiah signals for Asher to keep his eyes on his opponent.

Dickie’s momentum surges now, he picks Asher back up and whips him back into the ring. A quick combination of a poisonrana, a meteora and stiff springboard dropkick sends Asher back into the mat.

ONEEEEE!!!!

TWOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

THR—-

NO!!

Asher kicks out once again! Dickie sits up furious, pissed that Haye’s kicked out, pissed that Isaiah is out messing with his match, pissed that this isn’t over yet.

Dickie climbs again, perching himself lithely on the third rope.

JR: This is danger territory!

JC: Dickie must be in a world of pain too

Asher stirs and looks up, eyes scanning and catching on Isaiah’s pacing frame once again. Dickie launches at that exact moment.

MISSILE DROP KICK!

The crowd roars. Dickie slams more furious forerms into Hayes before getting up and readying himself by the corner. Hayes pulls himself up to his feet and Dickie charges at him.

JR: SPEAR SPEAR SPEAR!

Isaiah stops pacing and just watches. Hayes hurries into a pin.

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!!

THR—-NO!!!

JC: LAST SECOND KICKOUT BY WATSON!

Asher looks stunned, then angry, then desperate as his eyes go wide. He slams his own fists into the mat before rolling up and heading up top himself. Slowly and painfully.

Isaiah starts pacing down the ramp towards the ring.

JR: This could end it right here!

Isaiah: You don’t heal from some falls.

His voice is quiet but loud enough to catch Haye’s attention. A tingle runs through his spine. Asher pauses, the tiniest hesitation. Dickie springs to his feet, climbs the ropes like a leopard.

[Image: tumblr_oo715lMqKA1uvyu9yo1_500.gif]

AVALANCHE SPANISH FLY!!!

JC: THAT WAS INSANE! HE’S GONE STRAIGHT TO THE PIN!!

ONEE!!!!!

TWO!!!!!!

THRE-NOO!!

JC: How did Asher survive that crazy fall?

JR: PURE TENACITY FROM THE VETERAN!

Dickie runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Then with a grunt he moves to the corner. His feet stomp in the corner. Asher spits out a wad of blood before pulling himself up to his knees.

[Image: seth-rollins-wwe.gif]

RISE

TO

GLORY!!!

JC: Another pin!!

ONEE!!!

NO!!!

JR: No! Haye’s foot is on the rope! What ring awareness by the veteran!

Dickie sits against the ropes, exhausted - his eyes flick from Hayes to the ref to Isaiah midway up the ramp. He takes in a deep breath and musters up his strength again.

He pulls himself to his feet and drags Hayes up to his feet as well. He hooks Haye’s arm around his neck and throws him back into a suplex. Dickie holds on and transitions into a f- No! Haye’s slips through, reverses the hold and lifts Dickie into a FALCON ARROW.

Isaiah: Watch your back Hayes!

NO REVERSAL MIDAIR!

Dickie lands on his feet and whips a forearm into Haye’s neck, MODIFIED-

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!

THREEE!!!!

Winner by Pinfall: Dickie Watson

Isaiah King claps as Dickie’s music hits, turning his back to the ring and leaving him to celebrate.

JR: Job done for Dickie Watson!

JC: And it looks like for Isaiah King too! There’s going to be a price to pay for this, for sure!

[/color]

JC: Up next, we have the Television Championship on the line!

JR: I’ve been looking forward to this one since last week, Jackie. Korvayne was brutalized at the hands of Bobby Bourbon, let’s see what she has lined up for payback!

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.

JC: What is this?

JR: Oh damn it, Korvayne had a plan.

From the back, an army of simps all trot out. Wheezing at the very motion of walking from one place to another, all in worship of their queen, they form a line at the entrance ramp as a cage actually lowers from the ceiling, surrounding the ring.

JC: Korvayne has herself in that cage, I guess to protect her as she sets up her simps to deal with Bourbon first!

JR: There might not even be a match, this is low, the fans are absolutely livid!

JC: Not to mention, Bobby Bourbon hasn’t been seen in the arena all night!

The lights dim.

A spotlight shines all the way up in the nosebleeds of the Climate Pledge Arena.

Way up in the cheap seats, we see Bobby Bourbon seated among the fans so rabid they just wanted to be there but couldn’t afford the astronomical prices of ringside seats.

Bobby stands up, waves to the fans he’d been watching Warfare along with in section 225, and begins walking down the steps of the upper concourse, through sections 125 and 126, slapping hands with fans as he does. The spotlight follows him as he gets to the railing of the upper concourse.

JC: It’s Bobby Bourbon, he’s here!

JR: He is, he’s just been enjoying the show as a fan the whole time!

The simps all point and look as Bobby attaches a rope to the edge of the upper concourse, and leaps, bypassing the suite level and belaying to the lower concourse!!

Bobby removes the harness he’d been wearing for the stunt, and raises his arms at 45 degree angles.

The fans are absolutely exploding as Bobby climbs onto the railing at the top of the seats, and flips forward, being caught by the fans who then crowd serf Bobby all the way to the arena floor itself!

It’s there that a gigachad appears with a chair, and it rocks Bobby right in the spine with the weapon!

JC: Oh, damn it!

JR: Jackie, Bobby’s in for a long night and this match isn’t even underway!

Bobby drops to all fours from the shock of the blow, and the gigachad again raises the chair, striking Bourbon on the spine.

The gigachad again raises the chair…

Bobby with a low blow to the gigachad!

It drops the chair immediately, and Bobby collects himself and stands.

Dinosaur Extinctor onto the gigachad!

Bobby looks onward towards the ring, the two dozen or so simps scrambling to intercept him.

JR: This is why you don’t enter through the crowd, Jackie, Bobby Bourbon is suffering for it!

Six simps assault Bobby at once, and Bobby begins to hold his ground, throwing rights and lefts at the simps as they come. A few more arrive, and the sheer numbers take over.

Bobby is slammed in the back with a hefty corpulent forearm.

Bobby is smashed in the jaw with a wild haymaker.

Bobby is once again hit with a chair, and he drops to the ground. Simps begin stomping on him en masse.

The umpteen simps have their way, stomping and pummeling on Bobby as he lies on the ground.

They eventually lift him to his feet and start dragging him to the ringside area.

They dump him over the barricade. Two simps who waited behind, or simply were too out of shape to climb the barricade out into the crowd, held open a door to the cage.

JC: They’re throwing Bourbon into that cage.

JR: I guess so no outside interference occurs?

JC: No more outside interference.

Bobby is rolled into the ring, the cage still surrounding it. The referee shrugs, allowing the cage.

The referee calls for the bell.

XWF Television Championship
Korvayne ©
- vs -
Bobby Bourbon
First Blood Match
15 Minute Time Limit

15:00

Korvayne remains stationary in the corner, laughing at Bobby’s limp body on the mat.

The fans begin booing to the highest octave.

JR: Can you hear that?

JC: These fans deserved a real match here, this is a travesty.

JR: All Korvayne has to do is, well, nothing for fifteen minutes now, Bobby is down!

Bobby’s hand reaches out, as though he was about to bring himself to his feet.

Korvayne approaches him, stomping on his outstretched hand.

She then stomps his shoulder.

Then she delivers a soccer kick to Bobby’s prone body.

She twirls around, laughing with glee in her weird, way too bassy laugh that’s very offputting.

A simp runs up to the side of the cage, and hands something to Korvayne.

A cheese grater.

13:54
13:53
13:52

Korvayne parades the cheese grater around the ring, holding it as high as she can.

From corner to corner, along the ropes, she sneers and yells insults at the crowd, incensing them.

She approaches Bobby, still on the mat.

She kneels, placing a knee in the small of Bobby’s back while grabbing a handful of his hair.

She pulls back on his scalp, wrenching his spine, and holds the cheese grater up, the glint of the stainless steel contrasting with the lifeless Bourbon.

She goes to use the cheese grater on Bourbon’s forehead…

NO!

She starts laughing her big ole’ train whistle of a laugh.

Korvayne stands back up, points to the cheese grater, and tosses it aside.

JR: Korvayne would never deign to do something so brutal, Jackie!

JC: Fuck you, JR, Korvayne orchestrated a mugging here tonight!

A local ad for the at one business you’ve heard of but you have to drive past a sketchy neighborhood to get to plays.

9:44
9:43
9:42

JC: This is shocking, JR, I didn’t expect all this.

JR: I have a name, you know, but Korvayne has literally just been waiting out the clock, Bourbon is wiped out!

Korvayne is seated atop the cage, pointing at Bobby, the guffaws and hyucks coming aplenty from on high.

Bobby is slow to begin rising to his feet.

Korvayne beckons for him to do it.

JC: Korvayne is sick.

JR: She remembers that beating last week at the hands of Bobby, can you imagine what that would do to you if you had to face him?

JC: She’s a pure narcissist is what she is, a cruel narcissist.

9:11
9:10
9:09

Bobby slowly rises to his feet as the crowd chants his name.

[n]*LET’S GO BOBBY!*
*KORVAYNE SUCKS!*
*LET’S GO BOBBY!*
*KORVAYNE SUCKS!*
*LET’S GO BOBBY!*
*KORVAYNE SUCKS!*[/b]

Korvayne snarls as she brings herself to her feet, stalking Bobby like a vulture.

Bobby stands, still dazed.

JC: Bourbon is on his feet but I swear, he doesn’t know where he is.

JR: The referee should stop this.

JC: He can’t, due to the time limit constriction, the referee was instructed not to!

Korvayne rises and dives at Bobby, planting him with a huge flying cross body from the top of the cage!

Bobby is pasted to the mat!

NO!

Bobby rolls through, and back to his feet, cradling Korvayne!

Bobby rushes the cage wall, and splats Korvayne between himself and it!

Bobby pivots and plants Korvayne!

JC: HONESTLY BRUTAL FROM BOBBY BOURBON!

JR: It was literally too!

Bobby stays on top of Korvayne for the pin!

The referee starts to give instruction to Bobby!

JR: There’s no pinfalls here in the Television Championship match tonight, Jackie!

JC: This is first blood only, I bet Korvayne wishes she used that cheese grater earlier!

The simps, fed up with the fact Bobby got a measure of offense in, rush the ring.

They open the door, and bottleneck trying to enter the ring.

One simp finally gets between the ropes, and Bobby catches him with a Richter Spike!

Another two simps enter, and Bobby grabs both their heads and brings them in for a noggin knocker, sending them careening in opposite directions.

Three simps enter, and one after the other, Bobby chucks them to the other side of the ring with Big Boy Tosses!

A very, very, very obese simp enters, wheezing.

Bobby cracks his neck.

The obese simp waddles towards Bobby, his legs obviously chafing from the sheer amount of girth and probably gout each had.

The obese simp flips Bobby off!

Bobby’s head tilts ever so slightly to his right.

The obese simp laughs.

Bobby punts him in the gut, which was, to be fair, both a large target and low hanging fruit.

Bobby plants his head between his legs, then hoists him.

JR: JESUS TAPDANCING CHRIST!

JC: THAT SIMP HAS TO WEIGH NEARLY SIX HUNDRED POUNDS!

Bobby charges the side of the cage!

BOBBYBOMB THROUGH THE CAGE!

A whole section of cage wall crashes outward towards the entrance ramp as the wrecking ball shaped human with a hard-on for Korvayne is used as such, also pinning down and trapping a remainder of the simps!

Bobby turns.

He’s caught squarely in the jaw by a Picasso Punch!

Korvayne catches herself as Bobby spills out of the ring, onto the collapsed cage wall!

Korvayne sneers as she catches her breath, Bobby once again knocked senseless.

6:30

Korvayne hops to the arena floor, and drags Bobby’s body to the edge of the collapsed cage wall.

She slaps him across the face.

A sadistic smile crawls across her jaw.

She throws another slap…

No, Bobby blocks!

Bobby rolls off the cage wall, and onto the floor, landing with a thud.

Korvayne laughs even harder at Bobby, for whom the struggle is real.

Korvayne rolls Bobby over, and stomps on his chest.

Again, she stomps.

A third time…

Except Bobby has something in his right hand.

He brings the cheese grater up and carves into Korvayne’s shin.

A trickle of blood emerges!

WINNER AND NEW XWF TELEVISION CHAMPION:

BOBBY BOURBON!

JC: And just like that, Bobby with some razor sharp thinking!

JR: Don’t you ever make a pun again.

JC: I guarantee nothing.

Korvayne recoils in horror, calling for medics and officials to look at the scrape she just got as Bobby slowly brings himself to his feet on the outside. The referee hands him the Television Title Belt as he leans back, the fans patting his back the entire time.

JC: An absolutely incredible showing by Bobby Bourbon tonight! An-... wait a second!

As Bobby receives his fan back pats for a well-fought title victory…

Korvayne dives through the ropes, just as the cage wall rising above the ring!

FLYING PICASSO PUNCH KNOCKS BOBBY SKULL-FIRST AGAINST THE RAILING!

JC: oh my! Korvayne may have lost the match, but it looks like she’s in the mood to even the score after that almost-career-ending beatdown last Warfare!

Bobby collides hard against the railing, rubbing his aching scalp… but Korvayne doesn’t let up. A fan in the front row tries to start a Let’s Go, Bobby chant and Korvayne SPITS in his face!

JC: I’ve heard of spitting mad, but Korvayne is like a rabid animal right now!

JR: Korvayne almost had her career ended by Bobby’s attack last Warfare, Joe! Her ability to create *and* infuriate! Taking an artist’s life is one thing, taking her medium? Unforgivable!

Korvayne grips Bobby by the back of the skull before he’s even risen to his knees and rips him back into the ring and under the bottom rope!

Bobby, clearly critically hurt from that attack, shoves up to his knees slowly… As Korvayne reaches into her tights and retrieves…

A sculptor’s chisel!

JC: …Ohhhhh, I don’t like this!

Bobby turns around, raising his guard, anticipating another fist…

SCHINK! Korvayne drives the scalpel across Bobby’s forehead! A trail of blood streaks down his face!

JC: HOLY SHIT!

Bobby, caught off-guard by this burst of violence, covers his face with his hands, reflexively trying to stop the bleeding…

But Korvayne grabs him by the back of the head and in one fell swoop, DRIVES her knee into his forehead! It’s gushing now!

JC: What the hell is this maniac doing?!?

JR: Korvayne didn’t spill the first blood tonight, but she’s gonna spill the most memorable blood!

Bobby drops back to his knees… As Korvayne wraps her mitts around his skull…

X-FACTOR! Driving Bourbon’s skull against the mat! A huge red splatter of blood hits the mat under him!

But Korvayne isn’t done yet… She grabs Bobby’s skull from off the mat… and carefully, precisely picks it up off the mat, and drags it above the splatter in a straight line.

JC: …What the fuck is she doing?

JR: Korvayne is using Bobby’s blood like paint! And his skull like a brush!

Korv drags Bobby’s skull against the mat… creating a VISCERAL, DEEP RED exclamation point.

She then forcibly rolls Bobby to the other side of the ring… Blood dripping from his skull…

As she drags his head further along the mat…

Eventually drawing out…

A

R

T

!

JC: …Korvayne is insane.

JR: Korvayne! Is! GENIUS!

Finally, her vision realized, Korvayne lets Bobby’s skull out of her grip…

Bobby is on his knees…

Until she backs into the ropes….

Bounces off…

Leaps through the air!

CURB STOMP! Driving Bobby’s skull back into the mat!

YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK!

Finally, Korvayne leans down to the trickle of blood from her shin, presses it against her thumb…

And draws a K next to Bobby’s broken body!

JC: …She’s… she’s signing the havoc she just wrought tonight on Bobby Bourbon!

JR: Of course she signed it! It’s her masterpiece!

The image of Korvayne turning and bowing to the crowd is the last thing…

Before we cut to commercial.

"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 ramp, 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.

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.

At ringside, she wipes her boots on the apron with exaggerated care before stepping up, climbing through the ropes with smooth precision. No wasted movement. No nerves. Inside the ring, she walks straight to the center, turning once more as the music continues to snarl through the arena.

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 ring feels smaller.

‘Bullet With A Name’ echoes through the PA system as Charlie Nickles grins on his way to the ring. He looks ready for war as he ignores the chorus of boos the fans eagerly launch his way. He rolls into the ring, calling Gator and Jenny together as BoB talks strategy one last time before their match.

“Martin had a dream…”

The beat drops like a hammer as the crowd goes wild. The stans in the stands bop up and down to the iconic Sweatpants beat while rapping along to Kendrick’s Backseat Freestyle verse. The mashup highlights both how similar and dysfunctional this pairing is.

White-hot strobes flash, timed perfectly to every thump of the bass. There’s no warm up, The Exiles are approaching and everyone knows it.

“All my life, I want money and power
Respect my mind or die from lead shower”

The screen glitches to life, a black background with a grey logo and some words:

“The Exiles
Not a choice, a sentence.”

Two spotlights snap on from opposite ends of the stage, on the left: Sebastian Everett-Bryce, dressed in a long black coat. His chin tilts upwards slightly, a wry smile pastered on it - hiding his disdain for this situation. He adjusts the arms on his coat mid-stride, as he makes his way down to the ring. The shining tag-belt glimmers from his waist.

On the right: Isaiah King, no cape or theatrics, simply a weathered grey leather jacket over some wrestling tights and boxing boots. He glances at the name on the screen and shows visible disgust.

“Gadamn I feel amazin’”

They converge halfway down the way but don’t acknowledge each other, not a glance or a nod.

The crowd’s noise is deafening - divided and rowdy. Some bounce to the beat, others boo like they’re watching two egos that deserve to eat each other alive.

As the two get to the ring, Isaiah slides through the bottom ropes while SEB makes his way to the stairs for a more graceful entry. They both make their way to the centre of the ring, faces cracking at the discomfort before shifting to accommodate the other.

Isaiah lifts a fist into the air while Sebastian spreads his coat to draw attention to the other half as their theme slowly comes to a quiet.

Helix Nebula by Anamanaguchi blasts as colored lights in beat to the rhythm pass over the roaring crowd. When the beat kicks in Game Girl rushes out to the crowd and waves with her one good arm before walking down the ramp and stops besides Corey at the foot of the ramp.

As the bell rings, all Hell finally breaks loose. Each of the team sprints out of their respective corners, each of them finding a man (or woman) to try and beat!

Jenny Myst quickly finds herself getting overwhelmed by both women she has history with between Game Girl and Betsy Granger as she has to slip out of the ring with both girls hot on her trail!

Corey Black makes a beeline straight for SEB and Charlie, but he gets cut off at the pass by Gator, and Isaiah King looks to try and take a quick shot at them both!

And in the center of the ring, SEB, Charlie Nickles and Scoops McGee all get themselves into a three-way slugfest!

JC: We’re not even thirty seconds into this match, Joe, and it’s already absolute pandemonium!

JR: Tell me something I don’t know, Jack! Though I think everyone and their mothers would have predicted that this got turned into a bloodbath right at the start here! Each and every one of these nine men and women hate each other!

JC: And that surely isn’t going to bode well for how the rest of this match goes down…

Charlie quickly shoves Scoops back, causing him to inadvertently bump into Isaiah King from behind as King shoots a back elbow right towards Scoops’ dome! But in turn, Charlie leaves himself open to a superkick from SEB!

A superkick that sends Charlie flying right out of the ring!

Charlie gets nearly rushed down by the incoming GG and Betsy, but manages to come to just in time to shove a flying GG right into the barricade! She lands hard against the steel as her body contorts in agony!

JC: Game Girl not even having a chance to properly respond there! She’s only working with one arm right about now!

JR: That just makes her slim pickings for the Nickleman, though.

Jenny sees over her shoulder Game Girl getting taken out, which gives her a moment of time to try and crawl under the ring! But Betsy’s right there as she’s got Myst right by the ankle! She drags her right out…

BUT JENNY’S GOT A KENDO STICK!

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

JC: Did you hear that kendo stick shot, Joe?!

JR: I think you could hear that one up in the nosebleeds, Jack!

Betsy recoils as Myst grins, going on the attack with that kendo stick! Betsy quickly retreats, but Charlie is right there behind her to cut her off with a clubbing blow to the back! Betsy staggers forward and cracks Jenny with a roundhouse, but Jenny retaliates with another kendo stick shot to the side!

SEB TAKES OUT CHARLIE WITH A SUICIDE DIVE!

Back inside the ring, Corey Black looks to try and give as good as he’s getting against both Isaiah King and Gator. Corey looks to try and throw a knee to Gator’s gut, but he catches the knee! He twists and turns Corey into a Dragon Screw, trying to put a target on that same knee!

He doesn’t get very far though as Isaiah comes out of nowhere to clock Gator on the back of his skull with an enzuigiri!

Zay looks for the follow-up, but Scoops is right there with a lighttube-

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

GLASS SHARDS AND SMOKE GOES EVERYWHERE AS ISAIAH KING GETS DOMED!

JC: You wanna talk about deathmatch staples, folks, that’s about as textbook as it gets! Scoops bringing out some of the old classics there!

JR: Didn’t take long for the weapons to start coming out here, did it?

Gator comes towards Scoops, with a glass shard in his hand! Scoops ducks past the incoming swipe of the shard, boots Gator in the gut, grabs him by the wrist-

CATTLE PROD!

NO!

GATOR SHOVES THE SHARD RIGHT IN SCOOPS’ JAW!

BLOOD GUSHES EVERYWHERE AS SCOOPS STAGGERS BACK, STUNNED!

BUT HE ROARS AS HE LAUNCHES HIS HEAD FORWARD TO CRACK GATOR RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES!

GATOR STAGGERS BACKWARDS RIGHT INTO COREY BLACK’S GRASP! HE CINCHES IN A HALF-NELSON BEFORE THROWING HIM BACKWARDS INTO A SUPLEX!

Corey drags himself back up to his feet, a quick moment between House of Hardcore members as he checks on Scoops! The Uni champ nods along, but the moment is cut short as Charlie Nickles hops right on the apron!

Corey doesn’t even hesitate! He rushes forward with a head of steam, looking to take Charlie’s head off-

BUT CHARLIE TUGS THE TOP ROPE DOWN!

AND COREY GETS CAUGHT IN THE ROPES! HIS NECK GETS ENSNARED BETWEEN THE TOP AND THE MIDDLE ROPE AS THE FANS GASP!

JC: NO! NO WAY! THEY’RE GOING TOO FAR ALREADY! COREY BLACK IS GETTING HANGED IN THE ROPES AND COULD DIE LIKE THAT!

JR: He’s gotta be careful, Jack! You rush in towards the Nickleman, he’s gonna play your own mind against you! He’s just gotta try and find a way out of there!

Scoops quickly rushes forward to his friend’s aid, but he’s cut off by Jenny Myst sneaking her way back into the ring and taking Scoops down with a Lou Thesz Press! Punches in bunches come raining down on him as he’s forced to cover up to protect himself and his cut that widens with every successive hit!

And that leaves Charlie Nickels right on the apron, delivering the boots to Corey Black as he tries not to suffocate himself! Charlie cackles, slapping Corey across the face as he has to fight to stay alive!

BUT GAME GIRL GRABS CHARLIE BY THE ANKLE AND TUGS HIM DOWN! CHARLIE’S BACK HITS THE APRON AS HE FALLS DOWN!

JC: That type of impact could paralyze you! Though I guess desperate times call for desperate measures!

Jenny looks up from her putting the beatdown on Scoops only for Isaiah King to drill her with a DISCUS PUNCH!

JC: BUT ISAIAH KING MANAGES TO COME OUT OF NOWHERE TO DELIVER A ROYAL VERDICT!

JR: Might have saved Scoops with that blow there!

Jenny falls into a heap as Scoops rolls his way to the outside, but Game Girl quickly finds her footing as she grins! She hops into the ring, reaching into her bag of tricks to pull out her trusty hammer!

GG quickly goes to bonk Zay with the hammer, but he backpedals away! GG throws the hammer - Zay ducks - GG reaches out as Zay stands - IT CLOBBERS HIM RIGHT IN THE BACK! AND GG GRABS A HOLD OF HER HAMMER AS SHE CLOBBERS HIM RIGHT ON THE SKULL!

JR: Woof… you can just hear the critical hit sound from here.

JC: Isaiah King is stunned, but he’s still not going down, folks!

King ROARS in GG’s face, but she responds by swinging around with the hammer in her grasp! Isaiah’s body gets caught on the head of the hammer as he spins around with her, eyes widened as he’s going for a ride! Game Girl spins to win…

BUT BETSY GRANGER SLITHERS INTO THE RING TO CLOBBER GAME GIRL RIGHT IN THE KNEE WITH A CROWBAR!

GG buckles under her own weight, Isaiah landing his way in the corner as he’s seeing stars! Betsy doesn’t hesitate as she grabs GG tight and PLANTS HER DOWN WITH A SNAPMARE DRIVER! RIGHT ON THE SHARDS OF THE LIGHTTUBE FROM EARLIER!

JC: That’s Betsy’s Galactic Advantage right there! Game Girl’s lucky if this isn’t Game Over for her!

JR: You think she’s got an extra life hidden somewhere?

JC: She’ll still need to power up somehow…

Betsy rolls GG over to go for the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

GATOR DRAGS BETSY OUTSIDE THE RING BY THE ANKLE!

JC: Narrow save there!

Gator clocks Betsy with a spinning backfist that knocks her absolutely loopy! Jenny Myst is there to follow up with a dropkick to take her down, and Charlie Nickels is right there to direct traffic! He puts the boots to Betsy as he orders Gator and Jenny to take out a table and set it up together at ringside!

JC: You can feel the evil intentions just radiating from BoB right about now…

JR: That’s the power of teamwork for you, Jack. Every team’s got it here.

Charlie is about to get Betsy lifted up high for a triple powerbomb through the table! The fans begin to murmur in horror-

COREY BLACK COMES OUT OF NOWHERE TO HIT A V-TRIGGER ON CHARLIE!

CHARLIE’S EYES DAMN NEAR ROLL INTO THE BACK OF HIS HEAD AS HE SLUMPS BACKWARDS!

GATOR AND MYST SET THEIR SIGHTS ON HIM ONLY FOR SEB TO COME IN AND HIT GATOR FROM BEHIND WITH A GERMAN SUPLEX!

MYST QUICKLY ESCAPES AS BETSY IS RELEASED!

A moment of peace goes by…

BEFORE COREY BLASTS SEB WITH A BACKDROP DRIVER FROM BEHIND!

JC: SEB just landed right on his neck from that backdrop driver!

JR: SEB and Corey… man, they’ve got a history a mile long, and probably bumpier than one. Two friends that went and turned at each other’s throats.

Corey is about to continue the hurting on both SEB and Charlie when Betsy comes to the rescue! She leaps right off the apron to wrap Corey up and plant him with a Tornado DDT!

Back inside the ring, Isaiah King has got a hammer to try and counter Game Girl’s own! The two are swinging at each other with reckless abandon, the head of King’s sledgehammer clashing and colliding with GG’s own as sparks dance around the ringside area!

Jenny Myst slithers into the ring, looking to try and attack GG from behind! That’s all the opening GG needs to turn on the spot and bonk her right on the head as she stumbles back to the corner!

But that in turn only leaves her open for Isaiah to slam the hammer right into GG’s back! GG crumbles down right into a heap! Another hammer shot to the back as her down on all fours as she has to let go of her hammer!

Isaiah scoops GG up onto his shoulders!

MODIFIED USHIGOROSHI!

JC: Game Girl with a nasty knee right to the face after that Lonely Road! Isaiah King got all of it!

JR: Looks like King can’t try and go for the cover off of that, though!

Jenny Myst is right there! Tilt-a-whirl headscissors takes Isaiah right down! He quickly gets back up only for Jenny to drill him with a forearm!

And another!

And another!

Isaiah gets put back into the ropes now! Jenny takes him by the back of the head… drives him down on the mat…

AND LITERALLY SLIDES HIM DOWN ACROSS THE RING AND UNDER THE BOTTOM ROPE!

WHERE ISAIAH KING GETS SLINGSHOT INTO THE TABLE SET UP AT RINGSIDE!

JC: I’d HATE to take that move, Joe! You can get mat burns streaking all the way up and down your torso and your legs with that! Isaiah King’s gonna be feeling that in the morning, I promise you!

JR: Smart thinking by Jenny, though. She knows she can’t properly lift the bigger and bulkier Isaiah King, so instead she uses all that sweat and oil to slide him across instead? It’s genius!

Jenny takes a moment to admire her work…

…but it’s a moment she takes too long on.

⇧ ⇩ ⇩ ⇧ ⇧ A

A bright flash shoots across the ring behind Jenny as the fans pop like crazy! Jenny’s eyes widen as she knows what’s coming next-

WHAM! A palm strike right to the spine makes Jenny stagger! She turns around only to see Game Girl right on top of her still!

Kick! Kick! High kick! Jumping uppercut! Atomic Headbutt! Spear Step-

Jenny sidesteps it! Game Girl launches herself through the ropes, but grabs onto the middle rope in time to save her! GG comes back through the ropes as Jenny grabs the nearest weapon available to her!

CRACK!

HUGE BONK WITH GG’S OWN WARHAMMER!

JC: How strong do you think that thing even is?!

JR: No idea, but I’m amazed Jenny can even hold it! …Video game logic?

JC: Video game logic.

Myst continues to clobber GG inside the ring with the hammer as the duo of Betsy and SEB stare daggers at her! They slowly get on the apron, forcing Myst to take notice. She holds onto her hammer tight, leery at taking a two-on-one…

But Gator slides right into the ring for the assist! He stands right beside Jenny, while also unfurling a pouch he’s got in his hands! He pours it out…

AND THE FANS POP FOR THUMBTACKS!

JC: Folks… if you’re squeamish, I’d like to recommend you take a few minutes to turn the show off, because it’s not going to be pretty for whoever lands in those.

JR: I think I felt myself shiver a bit when Gator pulled those out…

SEB AND BETSY ROLL INTO THE RING!

BETSY STARTS TRADING SHOTS WITH GATOR IN THE CENTER OF THE RING!

SEB DUCKS A HAMMER SHOT FROM MYST AS HE RUNS THE ROPES!

SUPERKICK TO MYST!

IT STAGGERS HER AND FORCES HER TO DROP THE HAMMER, BUT IT DOES NOT MAKE HER FALL!

SEB ANGLES HIMSELF TO KEEP HIMSELF AWAY FROM THE TACKS AS HE LIFTS JENNY UP! LOOKING FOR A DRAGON SUPLEX TO LAUNCH HER INTO THE TACKS!

BUT AS SHE’S IN THE AIR, GATOR MANAGES TO GRAB ONTO HER AND PULL HER AWAY INTO SAFETY!

The fans boo as their moment was denied from them! Betsy thumps Gator in the back of the head to stagger him, but Jenny reaches over and thumbs her right in the eye!

SEB comes over to the rescue! Question Mark kick incoming!

CAUGHT BY GATOR!

SEB kicks him off!

Gator staggers back but rushes right back in!

SEB boots Gator right in the gut! DDT opportunity- NO! Gator twists right out!

Now it’s Gator booting SEB in the gut! Goes behind! Another backdrop driver-!

SEB backflips out! The fans are waiting with baited breath to see who falls into the tacks!

Jenny Irish Whips Betsy into a corner! Gator turns and desperately pushes SEB right into the same corner, forcing the two to hit each other and be sandwiched!

Gator quickly seizes his opportunity as he rushes in with a VERY APE ELBOW STRIKE! RIGHT TO SEBASTIAN’S DOME!

AND SEB TAKES A TUMBLE INTO THE THUMBTACKS!

JC: AH! It’s hard to watch! You can see the blood leaking from the tacks already as SEB writhes!

JR: Feels like every single team tonight is trying their best to bring it, but at what cost?

Gator slinks back, satisfied…

BUT HE CAN’T REMAIN THAT WAY FOR LONG!

BECAUSE SCOOPS MCGEE COMES IN FROM THE OUTSIDE TO POSITION HIMSELF ON THE TOP ROPE!

JENNY POINTS TOWARDS GATOR TO LET HIM KNOW!

BUT HE’S TOO LATE TO TURN!

SCOOPS HITS A PRAIRIE DOG TO SEND GATOR THROUGH MOST OF THE OTHER THUMBTACKS!

JC: THE UNIVERSAL CHAMP JUST PICKED HIS SPOT!

JR: He evened the odds in a heartbeat!

Jenny is right on top of Scoops now, but he’s right there to meet her! The two briefly exchange strikes for a minute as Scoops grabs her right by the wrist! The fans buzz as it looks like a Cattle Prod is coming!

Jenny ducks! Runs the ropes!

Leaps for another Lou Thesz Press!

But Scoops catches her mid-air and hits her with an inverted Atomic Drop! Jenny winces as Scoops grabs her up, before dropping her down with a Scoop Slam right on top of Gator! Both teammates wince at the impact!

Scoops can’t follow up though, because Betsy is locking eyes with him!

JC: I don’t think either Scoops nor Betsy forgot how their Universal title match went down last Warfare…

JR: Betsy looks like she’s ready for seconds right about now!

Betsy shoots herself forward into a lariat that takes both her and Scoops right out of the ring! The two continue to brawl on the outside as SEB begins to stir and come back to his feet inside of the ring!

SEB yanked Jenny Myst up by the wrist, the arena buzzing as he pointed toward the heavens. Jenny stumbled on spaghetti legs, dazed and glassy-eyed after the last exchange, but SEB gave her no room to recover. He marched her toward the corner and climbed with her in tow.

For one second, everything stood still.

Then SEB launched backward.

INTO A MARKHAM MISSILE RIGHT ON THE REMAINS OF THE THUMBTACKS!

The Spider Suplex detonated with sickening force as Jenny folded through the air and SPIKED into the canvas, the ring shaking beneath them both. The crowd erupted into a mixture of cheers and horrified gasps while Jenny rolled instinctively away from the impact, her body operating on pure instinct. She tumbled across the mat and somehow staggered back to her feet, wobbling like a newborn deer, eyes unfocused and arms dangling at her sides.

Sebastian was already moving towards her!

The former champion exploded off the ropes, springing high into the air with terrifying grace before flipping through the sky. The moonsault diving headbutt crashed directly into Jenny’s chest and jaw with pinpoint brutality!

JR: HOLY SHIT! HE CAUGHT HER CLEAN!

JC: Talk about a crash landing! I’m not sure if Jenny Myst is getting up from that!

SEB remained sprawled across Jenny for a moment after impact, breathing heavily, his expression completely emotionless while the crowd came unglued around him.

Sebastian covered her for the pin!

1!

2!!

GATOR BREAKS IT UP!

He stomps Sebastian in the back of the head! Then, he lifts him up by the scruff of his neck:

Before irish-whipping him straight over the top rope!

Sebastian’s body bounces off the ringside apron-

Before falling hard to the outside!

Gator looks down at Jenny: but he doesn’t help her up. Instead, he hits the ropes opposite the ones he threw Sebastian over-

Bounces off them-

Then sprints across the ring-

SUICIDE DIVE OVER THE TOP ROPE!

RIGHT ATOP SEBASTIAN!

Both men hit the floor, collapsing on impact!

JR: Well that’s one way to handle an Emperor!

JC: Gator’s an XWF legend for a reason, Joe! He can hang with the best of them, and he’s showing us again tonight!

SEB and Gator are throwing BOMBS on the outside now!

Right hands from Gator! European uppercuts from SEB! Gator ROCKS him with a headbutt and grabs him by the throat, dragging Sebastian toward the announce desk!

JC: Oh no, don’t do this! They had better not be coming this way!

JR: We’re getting front row seats for the action!

Gator starts clearing monitors off the table with both hands, snarling at the crowd while Sebastian tries to fight free. The fans are buzzing because everybody knows Gator is looking for something ugly here.

Gator hooks SEB up-

Gator lifts him high-

BUT SEB DROPS DOWN BEHIND HIM!

Sharp elbow to the jaw!

Another!

SEB grabs the waist!

Gator throws wild back elbows trying to break free but Sebastian hangs on with a vicegrip!

SEB digs deep and DEADLIFTS Gator off the ground!

WITH A GERMAN SUPLEX THROUGH THE ANNOUNCE TABLE!!!

The entire desk EXPLODES into splinters and broken monitors as both men crash through it in a heap! Joe and Jacquinde’s papers fly everywhere!

JC: MY GOD! HE JUST BROKE GATOR IN HALF RIGHT IN FRONT OF US!

JR: That jackass just spilled my coffee!

JC: You’re the one who called these front-row seats, Joe!

SEB rolls out of the wreckage clutching his neck and ribs while Gator lays buried in the shattered remains of the table, barely moving!

The camera switches to show the ringside area leading to the entrance ramp, where Betsy Granger has Scoops McGee rocked on the outside—she’s been all over him, fists snapping his head back, opening him up and leaving him busted wide. Scoops is bleeding now, stumbling backward against the barricade as Betsy keeps pressing, not giving him a second to breathe.

JR: Betsy Granger is getting revenge for that championship match!

JC: And then some! She’s not letting Scoops get away from her this time!

Betsy charges in again—

INTO A BIG right hand from Scoops!

Out of nowhere!

Betsy wobbles!

Scoops shakes the cobwebs, blood dripping from his face now, and his expression flips from survival mode to pure violence. Betsy swings again—

Scoops catches her!

He hoists her up in one clean motion! And he begins to run across the ringside area-!

DYNAMITE BOMB ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE RING! THE POWERBOMB COMPLETELY DEMOLISHES THE GUARDRAIL!

JC: JESUS! SCOOPS JUST CRACKED BETSY IN HALF!

JR: …pause.

JC: Knock it off, Joe! This is serious! He might have just broken her spine!

Betsy is SPIKED hard off the ground and bounces limp on impact, completely knocked out cold as Scoops falls back against the barricade, breathing heavy, blood still running down his face.

The crowd erupts as ringside officials immediately rush toward Betsy while Scoops just stands there staring down at her, chest heaving, barely steady after surviving her earlier assault.
SEB sees it immediately.
Betsy crumpled on the floor outside. Scoops McGee standing over her, blood still on his face, the aftermath of the Dynamite Bomb sinking in.
Something inside Sebastian snaps.
JC: Scoops might’ve gone too far here! He’s completely enraged Sebastian!
JR: Cracking someone else’s girlfriend in half tends to have that effect!
He sprints full speed down and SLAMS into Scoops before Scoops even has time to fully turn around!
RIGHTS AND LEFTS! SEB is unloading on him against the barricade, driving him back into the edge of the crowd! Fans in the front row are jumping up, screaming, loving every second of the chaos erupting right in front of them!
Scoops shoves off the barricade, trying to create space, shaking the cobwebs—
He swings wide!
CADDLE PROD!
Short-arm forearm coming in to blast SEB—
NO! SEB slips it at the last second!
Scoops spins through the miss—
AND DRILLS HIS OWN ARM FULL FORCE INTO THE RING POST!
JR: OH MY GOD! The champion just cattle-prodded himself into the ring post!
Scoops yells out in pain, clutching his arm as SEB immediately snatches him from behind!
Nightfall!
Sleeper Hold cinched in tight!

JR: There’s no getting out of that hold! Sebastian has Scoops right where he wants him now, and there’s nothing the champion can do about it!

JC: I hate to even ask this, Joe: but could this be a preview of what’s going to happen at Leap of Faith?! Scoops doesn’t have a choice! He might just have to tap!
SEB drops his weight and DRAGS Scoops down to the floor, grapevining the body and squeezing with everything he’s got!
Scoops fights for a second, reaching out, legs kicking, trying to find anything to grab onto—but it’s fading fast.
The crowd is on their feet as Scoops’ resistance slows… stops completely… and then…..
GAME GIRL FLIES OFF THE TOP ROPE TO THE OUTSIDE OF THE RING, MAKING THE SAVE OUT OF NOWHERE!
Sebastian is forced to release the hold as Game Girl’s entire frame drops upon him and Scoops!

JC: Game Girl went aerial to save that boah!

JR: She came flying in out of NOWHERE! That’s some video game shit!

JC: But remember, she won’t be there at Leap of Faith to help Scoops!

Game Girl, Scoops, and Sebastian transform into a pile of wreckage outside the ring! With blood, mangled limbs, and electric glitching!

But back inside the ring-

Corey Black and Isaiah King both managed to make their way back inside the ropes! Corey manages to catch Isaiah with a huge SUPERKICK!
Isaiah staggers!
Corey doesn’t waste a second—he’s up top FAST!
FROG SPLASH!
CRASHES down!
Corey hooks Isaiah’s leg!
JC: While everyone else is being turned to minced meat outside the ring, Corey Black is taking advantage of this opportunity to try and end it!
JR: That’s why he’s the King of the Wrestlers! And Isaiah’s finding out firsthand that a prince can’t overcome a King!
1!

2!!

3- NO!!!
ISAIAH KICKS OUT!
JC: Think again, Joe! Isaiah still has life!
JR: But for how much longer can he survive in there?!
The crowd explodes as Corey sits up in disbelief, shaking his head, trying to stay on him.
Isaiah rolls to his knees, fighting through it now—slow at first, then building momentum! He starts firing back with shots to the body, then a big right hand! Corey stumbles! Isaiah comes alive with a burst, rocking Corey back into the ropes!
Isaiah charges—
NO!
COREY BLACK CUTS HIM IN HALF WITH A RUNNING LARIAT!
Isaiah gets FLIPPED INSIDE OUT on impact!
The crowd gasps as Isaiah lands hard and Corey immediately dives on him for the cover!
1!

2!!

SEB breaks it up!
JR: How the hell did Sebastian get there in time?! Game Girl and Scoops are still comatose at ring side!
JC: Sebastian might just be a super-human, Joe! There’s a reason he had one of the longest championship reigns of all time!
Sebastian Everett-Bryce somehow storms into the ring and DRAGS Corey off with raw force, smashing forearms into his back and knocking him away from the pin! The crowd erupts as SEB stands over both men, eyes locked in, refusing to let the match end right there.
SEB then snatches Corey Black from behind and LAUNCHES him with The Conquest! German Suplex folds Corey in half and Sebastian rolls right through without wasting a second!

The crowd roars as SEB drags Corey up again and HURLS him backward with a RELEASE Turnbuckle German Suplex! Corey crashes high into the buckles and collapses into a seated position in the corner!

SEB sprints forward!

STANDING MOONSAULT KICK INTO THE CORNER!

Corey’s head snaps back off the impact and the fans are losing their minds because they know what’s coming next!

JC: Watch out for the Empire Kick here, Joe! It’s what Seb’s looking for!

JR: Corey’s going to feel this in the morning!

SEB backs into the opposite corner, measuring him like a sniper. Corey barely stumbles out of the turnbuckles before—

BANG!

EMPIRE KICK RIGHT TO THE FACE!

Corey gets TURNED INSIDE OUT!

SEB hooks the leg!

1!

2!!

3—NO!!!

CHARLIE NICKLES DIVES INTO THE FRAME AND BREAKS IT UP!

The crowd explodes as Nickles tackles Sebastian, saving the match at the absolute last possible second!

JC: Charlie Nickles makes the save! He’s not ready for this match to end!

JR: Of course he’s not! He has the most to lose out of anyone here tonight! Because if he loses this match, he loses a spot in the main event at Leap of Faith!

Charlie is on Sebastian like a rabid dog, biting and scratching him as he breaks up the pin! Charlie tries to grab Sebastian by the head and bite his nose off: but Sebastian thinks fast! He fires off a swift forearm to Charlie’s nose, bloodying it!

The Nickleman stumbles off Sebastian, backing up as he brings a hand up to his dislocated nose. Charlie sneers as Sebastian scrambles to his feet.

JC: The sight of his own blood is amping Charlie up! He’s staring at Sebastian with murderous intent!

JR: Charlie thinks Sebastian is the one who put his sister in the hospital: and now, it looks like Charlie’s trying to get EVEN MORE revenge! As if March Madness wasn’t enough!

Then, Charlie charges forward!

Charlie Nickles aims a wild clothesline at Sebastian: but Sebastian ducks beneath it-

Before somehow finding a way to lock in the Nightfall on Charlie Nickles!

JC: THIS IS IT! HE JUST CAUGHT CHARLIE NICKLES IN THE NIGHTFALL!

JR: THERE’S NOWHERE FOR CHARLIE TO GO! NO ONE LEFT TO HELP HIM! HE HAS TO TAP!

As Charlie starts to fade, Isaiah staggers to his feet before bouncing off the ropes and catching the bewildered Sebastian and his prey in a guillotine choke, driving them both down, but only striking Charlie’s head into the mat! Sebastian bounces back, lands on the ropes and stares in shock as Isaiah rolls Charlie up for a pin!

JC: BEDTIME SURPRISE! The Exiles are on top of their game tonight!

JR: There’s no getting up after that!

1!

BUT SCOOPS SLIDES INTO THE RING WITH A STEEL CHAIR! HE’S HEADING RIGHT FOR ISAIAH!

2!!

SCOOPS RAISES THE CHAIR-

EMPIRE KICK! SEBASTIAN STOPS SCOOPS! THE STEELCHAIR SLAMS INTO HIS FACE!

3!!!

Winners: THE EXILES!

JC: Talk about a main event that was as dangerous as it was exciting! The Exiles got a HUGE win together on the road to Leap of Faith!

JR: They’re standing tall over both the House of Hardcore and BoB! From where I’m standing, Jack, that might be a prelude of what’s to come in two weeks’ time!

Betsy limps her way to the ring, locking eyes with Sebastian as the two embrace in the center of the ring! Isaiah grins as they both raise his hands, and the three partners celebrate together as Warfare draws to a close!

THANKS TO OUR MATCH WRITERS

Peter Principle
Isaiah King
Bobby Bourbon
Liam Desmond
'Big' Dick Lichter
'Bashmaster' Barry Masterson

OUR SEGMENT WRITERS

Kieran King
Dolly Waters

AND EVERYONE WHO RP'D!

]]>

May - 11 - 2026

LIVE FROM CLIMATE PLEDGE ARENA

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

Latoya Hixx
- vs -
Mark Cross
- vs -
John Blade
Triple Threat Match

Remi Storm
- vs -
Jordan Penn
Two Out of Three Falls Match

Ken Davidson
- vs -
Rowan Vance
Singles Match

Asher Hayes
- vs -
Dickie Watson
Singles Match

XWF Television Championship
Korvayne ©
- vs -
Bobby Bourbon
First Blood Match
15 Minute Time Limit

JC: …Lotta time to make an entrance, huh, Brody.

BG: Shhhhhh, the best part’s coming…

…

Latoya Hixx
- vs -
Mark Cross
- vs -
John Blade
Triple Threat Match

WInner: Latoya Hixx

Remi Storm
- vs -
Jordan Penn
Two Out of Three Falls Match

FALLS:
Remi Storm - 1
Jordan Penn - 0

FALLS:
Remi Storm - 2
Jordan Penn - 0

Winner: Remi Storm

‘Godly’ Ken Davidson
- vs -
Rowan Vance
Singles Match

Winner: Rowan Vance

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!

THREEE!!!!

Winner by Pinfall: Dickie Watson

XWF Television Championship
Korvayne ©
- vs -
Bobby Bourbon
First Blood Match
15 Minute Time Limit

15:00

13:54
13:53
13:52

A local ad for the at one business you’ve heard of but you have to drive past a sketchy neighborhood to get to plays.

9:44
9:43
9:42

9:11
9:10
9:09

6:30

WINNER AND NEW XWF TELEVISION CHAMPION:

BOBBY BOURBON!

“Martin had a dream…”

“All my life, I want money and power
Respect my mind or die from lead shower”

The screen glitches to life, a black background with a grey logo and some words:

“The Exiles
Not a choice, a sentence.”

“Gadamn I feel amazin’”

⇧ ⇩ ⇩ ⇧ ⇧ A

Winners: THE EXILES!

]]> <![CDATA[WARFARE - April 27th 2026]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=50046 Tue, 28 Apr 2026 14:56:08 -0700 Liam Desmond]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=50046

April - 27 - 2026

LIVE FROM CHASE CENTER

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

Deena Hixx & El Landerson
- vs -
Doctor Clown, MD & Patient Clown
Tornado Tag - #1 Contender’s Match for the XWF Tag Team Championships

Asher Hayes
- vs -
John Black
Singles

Jordan Penn
- vs -
Frances Marigold
Flaming Tables XXX-Travaganza

First Man to Put Their Opponent through a Flaming Table Wins

Rowan Vance
- vs -
Remi Storm
Submission Match

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Kristoffer ‘Vamp’ Arroyo
Singles

XWF Television Championship
Yelena Gorgo ©
- vs -
Korvayne
15 Minute Time Limit

XWF Universal Championship
Scoops McGee©
- vs -
Betsy Granger
Texas Deathmatch

A competitor must first pin their opponent and then ensure they fail to respond to a 10-count to win.

Every screen in the stadium flickers for a moment before bringing you, the fan, into the most intimate spaces of backstage… The locker room. And not just any locker room - the locker room of rising star and internet sensation - Korvayne.

Soft lighting.

Korvayne stands near her locker, bedazzled with lights and a full body mirror. She pouts her lips, flutters her eyelashes and checks if any bruises have been left from her previous fight. Her eyes flicker to the pathetic face of a yearning simp.

Her hand shoots to press against her forehead dramatically. Her simp slides beside her to dab at the nonexistent drops of sweat on her forehead. He has his other hand clutching a cheap replica shirt and nodding along like shes actually speaking.

Korvayne | I was robbed. Robbed of my moment… my triumph… MY ART!

SIMP | Yes, my queen, totally robbed… Like SPIRITUALLY ROBBED.

Korvayne | It was supposed to be perfect.

SIMP | A statement. A masterpiece.

Korvayne | Don’t interrupt me.

SIMP | Of course, my queen. It still was though. Honestly… like emotionally.

Korvayne | You don’t know what that means.

SIMP | I don’t! But I feel like you do.

Korvayne lets out a sigh that's both deep and theatrical.

Korvayne | I needed control and domination… Instead I got-

She glances at him.

Korvayne | Interference.

SIMP | We can fix that. I can help! I can be better.

A shadow falls over them.

Korvayne’s SIMP turns comically on his heel, his eyes widening as wide as can be.

“Relax… I ain’t here for you.”

Dramatic gulp sound.

“Unless you plan on getting in my way again, you sweaty pitted tit.”

The SIMP shakes his head aggressively and backs up as the camera pans out to reveal Isaiah King.

SIMP | Nope… Sir, not at all! I am done. I am RETIRED even.

He tips his fedora at King quickly then scurries off to his little rat hole. Korvayne watches him go, unimpressed.

Korvayne | Useful, in small doses.

Isaiah | You call that useful?

Korvayne | It worked didn’t it?

Isaiah | You call last week a success?

Isaiah studies her for a moment. Not angry - just curious.

Isaiah | You got a pin.

Korvayne |... And you got a….whatever that was.

Isaiah | A tap. That’s what it was.

Korvayne brushes it off, a shrug, a bitch-face. But not denying he in fact got a tap.

Isaiah | And somehow neither of us got a win.

She nods.

Korvayne | And that bothers you.

Isaiah | Infuriates. Ain’t that what you feel?

She smirks faintly.

Korvayne | You’ve tapped out a lot of people. Nobody has seen a meanie greenie rookie like me counter it, so like, that’s kinda sorta a win. Trillionaires were so impressed they gave me a Television Title shot tonight. But whatever.. He was supposed to get me a shot at gold.

Isaiah | Nickles… You really trusted Nickles.

Korvayne | How was I supp-

Isaiah | Did you do any research on him? Did your simp at least?

Korvayne | Two former Universal champs.

Isaiah | Yeah… It was your time to shine.

Korvayne | I thought since he’d just beat you-

Isaiah | Rookie. Mistake.

Korvayne | I had a chair teach me that.

Isaiah | Never. Trust. A. Bastard.

Korvayne | Noted.

Isaiah takes a step towards her, towering over her slightly but not imposingly so.

Isaiah | Next time - just you and me. Leave your Simps at home.

Korvayne studies him for a moment before scoffing.

Korvayne | Yeah if it weren’t for your daddy, oops, I mean, Sebastian, I’d probably have wiped the ring with your butt.

Isaiah | Yeah, without your SIMP you might’ve left with a concussion, without Charlie’s bullshit you wouldn’t have had a chance.

Korvayne | I used him.

Isaiah | Cept the thing is… Charlie don’t get used.

Korvayne swears under her breath.

Isaiah | Don’t worry… This time - this time you won’t pay for your foolishness.

Korvayne studies him - there's something there that ain’t quite agreement…. But it isn’t denial either.

Korvayne | We’ll see.

She takes a deep breath in.

Korvayne | Next time, no distractions.

Isaiah nods at her.

Isaiah | Next time.

She walks off. Isaiah watches her go, mind racing.

JC: There’s tension there… But I think some respect too.

JR: Respect gets you hurt in this business. Especially around people like Nickles.

When Booyka 619 hit's El Landerson walks out on stage and kneels down on one knee and prays. He gets up and points to the Fans in Pyro fireworks burst open and switch to the other side of the stage in does the same thing in!

JC: El Landerson! The Bit Luchador! And Deena Hixx! The Geek Goddess! These two have been hunting their first pieces of championship gold in the XWF for many months now!

JR: And they’re circling closer and closer! More recently, Members of the John and Razor Blade chain gang have even won more than a few Number One Contender’s matches! And now they have another chance! And it’s against a pair of clowns!

JC: A promising opportunity for Landerson and Deena to get in line for a tag title opportunity at Leap of Faith! But can they hold down the clowns? Or will they chase them off a big cliff and then fall off the cliff and there’ll be that sound like a slide whistle like pheeeeeeeeeeeeeeew…

…

JC: Pffft.

JR: Great foley work there, Jacuinde. That somehow sounded exactly how I think Deena and Landerson falling off a hundred foot cliff and hitting the ground would sound.

after he was done he slowly walks down the ramp in slaps some little kids high fives and he stops and stares at the kid in hands him his Luchdor Mask to him and heads straight towards the ring and hops on the turnbuckle and pose both fingers in mid air and walks to the other side turnbuckle in does the same thing mid finger in the air in he gets down and wait for his Opponent arrive.

…

The Physician’s Creed blares through the PA system as a BURST of pyro goes off!

But Doctor Clown, MD is nowhere to be seen on stage…

Because he’s been sitting at ringside all night, serving as the chief physician for tonight’s matches!

Doctor Clown, MD rises from his ringside seat as he waves to the fans. Then, he takes two pills: and if you know, you know.

JC: …I genuinely thought that was just a goof last Warfare, but… nope. Apparently, Doctor Clown, MD is and has always been our ringside medical professional.

JR: And there’s no one more professional in all of Clown City, Jacuinde! But where’s his partner, Patient Clown?

Doctor Clown climbs the steps up to the ring… where Patient Clown has been waiting on the apron this whole time.

JC: Whoa! Where’d he come from?

JR: Do you need to get your eyes checked by Doctor Clown, MD, Jacuinde? Patient Clown has literally been there since the ticketing gate opened this morning. Basically since the ring crew finished setting up the ring.

JC: He’s been standing on that apron since… 7 in the morning?!?

JR: Yeah. He was fine waiting. He’s Patient Clown.

…

The four competitors stand in their respective corners… or, at least, three of them do.

Patient Clown stands on the apron, one hand gripping the tag rope, the other lazily scrolling on his phone… his painted smile unmoving, his posture relaxed, like he’s got nowhere else to be.

Doctor Clown, MD adjusts his gloves with clinical precision… his eyes narrowing behind smeared makeup, jaw tightening with clinical focus…

Deena Hixx bounces in place, her eyes wide and jittery, lips curled into a cocky smirk as she vibrates with barely-contained energy…

El Landerson rolls his shoulders and stretches his legs, exhaling sharply through his mask, his stance low and ready—focused, but already feeding off Deena’s chaotic pace…

JC: And here we go! Tornado tag rules, which means all four competitors are legal at all times—no tags required!

JR: Then why is that clown holding the tag rope like it’s sacred law?

JC: I… believe we’re about to find out.

DING DING!

Deena Hixx & El Landerson
- vs -
Doctor Clown, MD & Patient Clown
Tornado Tag - #1 Contender’s Match for the XWF Tag Team Championships

JC: The bell rings and all competitors rush to the cent-... nope, wait, one is hanging back!

JR: Guess which one, viewers at home!

As Doctor Clown MD surges forward, fist reeled back like he’s about to test Landerson and Hixx’s pain tolerance, Patient Clown remains on the apron, nodding to himself with quiet satisfaction… completely immobile, holding the tag rope with one hand and his phone with the other.

Doctor Clown MD peers backwards mid-run, in shock and surpri-

WHAM! Mid-sprint, the good Doctor catches a DEENA DROPKICK TO THE SKULL!

JC: Uh oh! The damn numbers game is starting early! It’s clearly caught Doctor Clown MD by surprise!

JR: Probably because he didn’t think he’d be at a numbers disadvantage! He has a partner after all!

On the apron, Patient Clown glances up briefly at the sound of boots colliding with skull… expression unchanged… then returns to scrolling.

The official zips over, gesturing emphatically, trying to explain—

JC: It looks like the official is trying to explain to Patient Clown that… he really doesn’t have to be patient right now! There are no illegal or legal men! He can get in the ring any time he wants!

Patient Clown glances up from his phone, which he sets in his pocket. He nods attentively, patiently listening to the official’s frantic explanation. At which point, he has follow-up questions…

JC: Is… Is Patient Clown repeating back to the official his understanding of what the official is saying?

JR: It’s a great communication tactic to demonstrate active listening, Jacuinde!

JC: I suppose! But it’s taking up valuable time while Patient Clown’s partner is getting beaten down!

JR: Mmmm, so you’re saying Patient Clown shouldn’t be asking questions right now, because it’d be a better use of his time to hop into the action?

JC: …Okay, I get it.I feel heard right now and that is nice.

Back inside the ring, Doctor Clown MD collapses onto his back as Landerson sprints forward… backward flipping as he advances into a…

STANDING SHOOTING STAR PRESS! Doctor Clown MD’s chest slams in, his skulls surges upward!

INTO A DECAPITATING DEENA WIZARD!

JC: Wow! What a sequence! Doctor Clown MD is the doctor here, but Deena and Landerson are coming out of the gate like they planned every part of this operation!

Landerson hooks the leg!

ONE!

Patient Clown isn’t paying attention!

TWO!

He’s asking the official how long he’s been working this officiating gig!

THR-DOCTOR CLOWN MD kicks out!

JC: Is Patient Clown even a wrestler, Joe!

JR: We might find out, Jacuinde! If we’re patient!

Doctor Clown MD shoves Landerson off his chest like a bad appendix… Landerson flies off, landing on his back!

Doctor Clown rises to his knees…

But Deena’s waiting in the wings! She sprints, bouncing off the ropes!

LOW DROPKICK TO THE SHIN!

Doctor Clown’s face contorts in sharp pain, his leg buckling as his balance gives out—

—and Landerson, feeding off the opening, launches forward—

SPRINGBOARD SOMERSAULT INTO A FLYING LARIAT!

Doctor Clown’s head snaps sideways, his body flipping onto his back as he crashes to the mat!

JC: Another lightning-fast sequence from Hixx and Landerson!

JR: That’s what happens when you leave a man alone in there with two adrenaline junkies, Jacuinde! This is neglecting one’s solemn duties as a tornado tag partner! This is doctor-wrestling partner malpractice out here!

Deena’s eyes gleam with pride, chest puffed out as she looks to Landerson—clearly thrilled with the success—

Landerson nods back, energized, but his posture tightens—his competitive edge kicking in as he gestures rapidly, calling for more!

Patient Clown nods, having taken in the official’s valuable opinion from every angle. After considering the issue from all sides, he nods. It’s clear! He’s going to enter the ring!

JC: Here we go! Patient Clown’s about to claim his moment!

Patient Clown steps through the ro-

DING! His phone buzzes!

Patient Clown checks it. Oh, hey, his energy refilled in XWF Trillionaires Idle Game 2K26!

JC: What the hell is that?!?

JR: XWF Trillionaires is the ultimate idle game! Hire the best roster you can! Slowly shape and mold your competitors to be their very best! It takes time and careful planning! And building the perfect roster takes patience!

Patient Clown slides back on the apron… He better spend this energy now. He pulls out his phone and starts tapping to add stats to his three-star Latoya Hixx…

Doctor Clown groans, rolling onto his side, his face twisted in pain—but his eyes sharpen, calculating even through the damage, desperate to recover!

—but Deena doesn’t give him time!

Fueled by momentum and ego, she darts in—

MULTIPLE ARM DRAGS IN RAPID SUCCESSION!

JC: Doctor Clown is taking a real beating! I hope Doctor Clown he has medical insurance!

JR: It’s the only coverage he has, considering his partner isn’t covering his ass!

Doctor Clown is yanked up and thrown across the ring—once! twice! three times!—his body whipping against the mat with each impact!

His face shifts from pain to frustration, teeth gritting as he tries to stabilize—

—but Landerson, not to be outdone, springs forward—

REVERSE CROSSBODY!

He crashes into Doctor Clown mid-rise, flattening him back to the mat!

JC: They’re not even giving him a second to breathe!

JR: This is like watching two kids mash buttons in a video game—and it’s WORKING!

Deena’s smirk grows wider—he got a big move? Fine.

Her eyes flash with competitive irritation, and she immediately rushes the ropes—

SPRINGING BACK—

DIVING CROSSBODY OF HER OWN!

She crashes into Doctor Clown again, stacking impact on impact!

Doctor Clown’s face contorts, his breath forced out of him in a ragged gasp, his arms instinctively wrapping around his midsection—

—but Landerson claps once, sharply, calling for synchronization!

Deena’s eyes light up—now he’s talking her language.

Both competitors grab Doctor Clown by the arms and legs, their faces lit with matching excitement—

They hoist him up—

JC: Oh no—this could end it early!

DOUBLE FLAPJACK!

—but—

Doctor Clown’s expression snaps into cold focus mid-air… his body tightening, core engaging with sudden precision—

He somersaults forward over their lift!

Deena’s face instantly shifts from triumph to confusion—

Landerson’s eyes widen in shock—

—and Doctor Clown, landing clean behind them, lashes out—

DOUBLE NECKBREAKER!

CRACK!

Both Hixx and Landerson are yanked down violently, their heads snapping back as they hit the mat in unison!

JC: WHAT A COUNTER!

JR: That’s a licensed professional right there! He just turned chaos into a procedure!

All three bodies lie sprawled across the mat…

Deena clutches the back of her neck, her face scrunched in pain and disbelief…

Landerson rolls weakly onto his side, blinking rapidly, trying to clear the stars…

Doctor Clown exhales sharply, one hand pressing to his own ribs, his face tight—but composed… controlled…

Outside…

Patient Clown remains on the apron.

Still holding the rope with one hand and his phone in the other.

Doctor Clown’s eyes slowly drift toward the corner… his expression tightening with exhausted irritation…

…then, with a pained grunt, he begins to crawl.

…

Doctor Clown reaches the corner… his eyes flicking up toward his partner with a mix of relief and exasperation—

—and he slaps Patient Clown’s hand!

JR: He made the tag!

JC: THERE ARE NO TAGS, JOE!

Patient Clown pauses.

Slowly.

He looks down at the rope in his hand… then at Doctor Clown… then out at the ring…

A beat.

He nods.

Satisfied.

He pockets his phone with deliberate care… wipes his hands together like he’s just clocked in for a shift…

…and steps through the ropes.

JC: Well… I guess psychologically, that counts?

JR: This is either commitment to a bit or a complete break from reality. I respect both.

Deena’s eyes snap onto Patient Clown the moment he enters, her expression lighting up with competitive excitement, lips curling into a feral grin as she sees a fresh opponent—

Her body coils low, feet jittering with barely-contained speed—

—and she EXPLODES forward!

SPEAR!

Patient Clown’s expression shifts to mild concern… his head tilting slightly as he watches her charge…

…but instead of bracing—

he steps aside.

Casually.

And holds the ropes open with both hands.

A polite gesture.

An usher.

Deena’s face morphs mid-charge from aggression to confusion—

“Wait—?”

—but her momentum doesn’t care.

She blasts through the ropes—

AND CRASHES HARD INTO THE RAILING!

JC: OH MY GOD!

JR: He thought she was trying to EXIT THE RING! He just helped her destroy herself!

Deena crumples against the barricade, her face twisted in pain and outrage, clutching at her midsection as she slumps to the floor outside…

Patient Clown looks out there, a little befuddled as to why she was in such a rush…

Meanwhile, Landerson’s eyes widen behind his mask, his posture tightening as he processes what just happened—

then narrowing with determination.

Fine.

He’ll handle this.

He takes off toward the ropes—

SPRINGBOARD—

His body launching upward with practiced grace, twisting in mid-air as he aims to snap into a hurricanrana!

Patient Clown looks up just in time—

his eyes tracking Landerson’s arc…

his hands starting to raise—

—but—

DING!

His phone goes off.

Even from his pocket.

Patient Clown freezes.

Completely.

Mid-response.

His head tilts.

His attention gone.

Landerson’s expression shifts from focus… to confusion… to dawning horror—

As he realizes he was leaping for where Patient Clown was going to be!

He comes crashing down—

FLAT ON THE MAT!

JC: NOBODY HOME!

JR: The man got distracted by a notification! That’s the most 2020s counter I’ve ever seen!

Landerson writhes, clutching his midsection, his legs kicking against the mat as the impact reverberates through his body…

Patient Clown slowly pulls out his phone… glances at the screen…

…and begins typing a response…

JC: I… I genuinely can’t believe this is working for Patient Clown…

Landerson rises up off the mat slowly… As Doctor Clown climbs back to his feet… he pulls out from his labcoat an oversized mallet a mallet!

JC: Oh my! This match may be tornado tag, but it is NOT no disqualification!

JR: If Doctor Clown uses that mallet on his opponent, that could spell defeat for the Clowns!

Landerson charges Patient Clown! Who stands there immobile…

As Doctor Clown slips forward with his mallet… and hits…

…

Patient Clown’s knee!

JC: Gasp!

JR: …Huh! It’s not a DQ if you hit your own partner!

Patient Clown’s leg shoots up, after that

REFLEX TEST!

And Landerson runs straight into Patient Clown’s comically oversized boot and drops to his back!

Doctor Clown picks up Patient Clown, who is still ignorantly tapping on his phone… And puts his boots on Landerson’s chest!

The official drops to count!

Deena shakes off the cobwebs from her missed dive!

ONE!

She rolls under the bottom rope!

Doctor Clown MD reaches into his labcoat…

He pulls out…

A straightjacket!

JC: Ah! I think Doctor Clown knows just how to deal with crazy chicks/

JR: Lobotomy?

JC: …Joe, what the fuck is wrong with you?

TWO!

Deena dives!

But Doctor Clown catches her in the straightjacket! He wraps it shut!

THREE!

Winners and #1 Contenders to the XWF Tag Team Championships: CLOWNS ‘R US!

JC: WOW! What an upset! The Clowns pull it off!

JR: Say your prayers! Because the Circus is coming to Leap of Faith!

JC: Leap of Faith is looking more like a trapeze at this point!

Pre-Taped

During the early days of the show, we see JB by the center doors sitting alone. He takes a swig of his water, and crunches it and tosses on the ground. Then he speaks to the camera.

JB: Littering fines can kiss my ass, not like i need to pay for the world to change. Gas so high, i wanted to jack someone else's rental earlier this weekend. Damn you Elon, and damn you Trump ya’ll some fucking cock suckers who need to eat, shit and die. Now, with that out of my chest I decided to roll to this venue before the doors even open. The main reason was because i got bored in my hotel and Reggie wasn’t in town, so I was left with my own vices.

JB shows his steam deck as he plays old shit on it.

JB: This is what keeps the day going by quickly. Helps that im an old school emulator type of negro, so it helps. But that isn’t what’s important now, why I decided to spend my time at the building. Besides being at the building by 2pm, i decided to observe where these people who pay their tickets are going to be standing here tonight. The same ones who paid they hard earned money that could have gone to Saudi Arabia show, but they put they hard duckets in this arena. Which trickles down to us, road crew you fucking name it.

What im saying is, i'm fighting for the common people. The people who don’t have it are great, I never was the type to be great. The underdogs loom all, and I'm the one who believes in that movement. I might have been a pillar in this place, and still held Number 38 in the Hall Of Legends/Superstars that this company has made up. But do you know what's interesting, Asher Hayes’s isnt on one, but i know having the locker room brag about who he is what keeps his spirits up at night.

As I take on Asher, he will experience something he’s never seen before in his own eyes. He’s going to feel the pain, as I bring it to him on a silver platter. So you see peeps, this isn’t just a match filler, piss break, turn the channel off type of affair…okay maybe when Scoops cuts his promo would be the best time to switch to something else, because man he makes Nickles sound like Dude Luv off of valium. I say it all in jokes, but you know what I mean.

So Asher, you might have made your return, and you might have tried to seek out your own footing back in the place; and that I can say is, you are two to three steps behind what you are looking for. I am going to beat the ever loving shit out of you, that you’d be doing the Macarena back to the hole you came from, and hope to god you don’t have me break your neck, and have you retire to film shitty movies before you can even mark your boots on here.

This is a battle, that one of us has to survive from, and it doesn’t matter who “goes over”... but what matter to me is this, i'm the strongest Soulja that you had the unfortunate time to share that ring with me in it, pal. I guarantee that you will reevaluate time in this federation once im done with you tonight.

From there it cuts to static, then it fades onto the announcers desk for the next segment.

Asher Hayes
- vs -
John Black
Singles

The bell hits and there is no circling, no testing of distance. John Black and Asher Hayes step straight into each other and start throwing.

Forearm. Forearm. Forearm.

Each shot cracks louder than the last until the rhythm breaks when Black slips one and drives a knee deep into the ribs. Hayes folds for half a second and that is all Black needs. He snatches the head and snaps him down with a neckbreaker that spikes clean. Black rolls through, making tight cover.

1!

JR: John Black is trying to put the XWF rookie down fast!

Hayes kicks out sharp and fast, rolling to a knee with a look that says he expected that.

Black does not let him breathe. He drags Hayes up and whips him hard into the corner. The buckles rattle. Black charges in full speed, but Hayes springs up and plants a boot flush into his face. Black stumbles back and Hayes launches, springboarding into a flying forearm that wipes him out.

JC: This match has been all John Black so far!

JR: This is turning into a thuggish, ruggish affair!

Hayes rises with urgency, pulling Black up by the wrist and spinning him into a sharp elbow that lands on the jaw. A second strike follows. Then a third. Hayes snaps a kick into the thigh and Black’s stance buckles. Hayes yanks the arm and goes for a short arm lariat.

Black ducks.

He spins through and fires a back elbow that lands flush and halts Hayes in place.

Black surges forward, grabs the head, and drills Hayes into the mat with a DDT. He rolls through instantly, hooks both legs, leaning all his weight down.

1!

2!

Hayes kicks out and turns onto his side, breath catching in his throat.

JR: Another kick-out from Asher Hayes! But he's going to need to do something besides kick-out if he wants to win this match!

JC: John Black's pace has been relentless, Joe! J.B. is one of the longest tenured veterans in the XWF, but his cardio and work rate is still unmatched!

JR: Asher Hayes was always going to be in for an uphill battle against this Thug, but right now, that hill is starting to look like a mountain!

Black sits up slowly, eyes locked, jaw clenched. He pulls Hayes up again and muscles him into position for a vertical suplex. Hayes gets lifted, held high, legs kicking, the blood rushing down as Black keeps him suspended just long enough to make the drop worse. Then he falls back and slams him down hard.

Black bridges.

1!

2!

Hayes kicks out again.

This time the kickout lingers. Hayes stays down for a moment longer, chest rising and falling heavier now.

JR: John Black's non-stop offense has taken the wind out of Asher's sails! I don't know if Asher has ever faced off against such a relentless force inside the ring.

JC: Great point, Joe! I'm not sure if Asher's miraculous semi-finals run in March Madness truly prepared him for the rigors of the XWF faithful!

Black rises and paces once, then again, stalking. He pulls Hayes up by the head and tries to lift him again, but Hayes slips behind and shoves Black into the ropes. Black rebounds and Hayes explodes into him with a snap powerslam that flips him over and drives him flat.

The sound echoes throughout the arena!

Hayes pushes up to his knees, then to his feet, feeding off the shift. He drags Black up and starts firing. Right hand. Left hand. Body shot. Another right. Black tries to answer but Hayes keeps the pressure on, forcing him backward step by step.

JR: Asher Hayes if finally flipping the script! He's giving J.B. a taste of his own medicine!

JC: After a slow start, it looks like Asher has found his footing in this match!

Hayes grabs the arm again, spins for another short arm shot, but Black plants his feet this time and rips his arm free. He drives a boot into Hayes’ midsection and scoops him up, turning and slamming him down with a heavy spinebuster that shakes the ring.

JR: OOFTA!

JC: Well, so much for that! It looks like John has other ideas!

Black stacks him for a pin.

1!

2!

Hayes gets the shoulder up!

JR: But Asher Hayes isn't throwing in the towel! That dog still has more fight left in him!

Black slaps the mat once, frustration flashing across his face. He drags Hayes up again and lifts him onto his shoulders, trying to set something bigger. Hayes fights, wriggling, throwing elbows down into the side of Black’s head. One connects. Then another. Black’s grip loosens and Hayes slips down behind him.

Hayes shoves him forward. Black hits the ropes. Hayes charges and catches him with a dropkick straight to the knee. Black stumbles, balance gone, and Hayes surges forward into a jumping knee strike that snaps Black’s head back violently.

Black drops to a knee.

Hayes circles behind, trying to cinch control, but Black throws a sharp elbow that clips the jaw. Hayes fires back. Black answers. They trade in tight quarters again, slower now but heavier, every shot carrying more weight.

JR: Asher Hayes has fought back from the brink, and now, these heavyweights are trading haymakers in the center of the ring!

JC: Both men are throwing those punches like they have a chip on their shoulder!

Black spins out and grabs Hayes, hauling him up and driving him down with a second spine-rattling slam. He floats over, presses down across the chest.

1!

2!

Hayes barely kicks out.

JC: At this point, J.B. has to be wondering: what will it take to keep Asher Hayes down?!

JR: He's just kicking out of everything! Now that's resilience!

Black exhales hard, rising slower this time. He pulls Hayes up again, sets him for a powerbomb, lifts him high. Hayes fights from above, raining punches down into Black’s skull. The shots land again and again until Black’s grip starts to slip.

Hayes drops down behind him, lands on his feet, and instantly shoves Black chest first into the corner.

Hayes charges.

He crashes into him with a running splash that crushes the air out of Black’s lungs. Hayes backs up two steps, then charges again and hits a second splash even harder. Black stumbles forward, dazed, and Hayes hooks him, spins, and plants him with a snap suplex!

He holds on.

Rolls through.

Second suplex!

He tries for a third, lifting, straining, but Black blocks, dropping his weight and driving a knee into Hayes’ gut. Hayes doubles over and Black breaks free, swinging wild.

Hayes ducks under, hooks the waist, tries to drag him down, but Black refuses to go. They struggle, feet grinding into canvas, arms tightening, each man trying to take control of the other’s center.

Black reaches back, hooks the head, and drops suddenly into a reverse DDT that spikes Hayes down!

Both men hit the mat and stay there!

JR: What an effort from John Black! Just when it looked like Asher Hayes was about to steal the momentum, he drilled him with a reverse DDT that reminded him who the boss was!

JC: But J.B. shouldn't count his chickens before they hatch, Joe! Asher Hayes has shown us that he won't go down easy! Let alone stay down for a 3 count!

The audience is on the edge of their seats as both men struggle to breath.

Black crawls first, dragging himself over and throwing an arm across Hayes.

1!

2!

Hayes kicks out!

JC: I told you, Joe: Asher Hayes will not die!

JR: He's gonna make a thug pull out the steel to finish the job! He's better off just staying down, because I don't think he wants to see how far a Thug will go!

Black rolls off and sits up, shaking his head, trying to clear it. He forces himself up, slower now, every movement heavier than before. He drags Hayes up again, forcing him upright, trying to will the finish into existence.

He hooks him. Lifts him-

Hayes fights with everything he has left. Twisting. Kicking. Refusing to go up clean. Black tries to adjust mid-lift, tries to force him into position, but Hayes slips free at the last possible second and lands on his feet.

Hayes stumbles back into the ropes.

Rebounds.

Charges.

Black steps in for a lariat.

Hayes ducks under.

Spins behind.

Shoves Black forward again.

Black hits the ropes and rebounds straight into a brutal kick to the gut that folds him in half!

The opening is there....

Hayes takes it!

Asher hooks Black and lifts him straight up into the air, holding him vertical. The world seems to pause for a heartbeat as Black hangs upside down, legs twitching, the strain visible in both men.

Then Hayes swings through and drives him down with The Breakdown, the vertical suplex crashing into a devastating side slam that detonates across the ring!

The impact leaves Black lifeless and leaves the commentators speechless!

But it just leaves the crowd in awe.

Hayes hooks the leg, pressing down with everything he has left.

1!

2!

Black’s shoulder twitches-

But it doesn't leave the mat!

3!

Winner: Asher Hayes

Hayes rolls off slowly, collapsing onto his back for a second before forcing himself up to a seated position. His chest heaves, his arms tremble, and his eyes stay locked on John Black lying still beside him, the war written across both of them in sweat and impact.

Hayes does not celebrate right away.

He just sits there, breathing hard, knowing exactly how close this match was.

JC: What an incredible match! John Black showed EVERYONE what he's capable of inside that ring...but somehow still, Asher Hayes is walking away from Warfare with the win! It seems like Asher still has some of that 'March Madness' Luck!

JR: John Black put everything on the line, and he pushed Asher Hayes to the breaking point: but somehow, someway, Asher gets his hand raised at the end! He's one lucky bastard!

JC: But don't go anywhere, folks: because we have more WARFARE coming up next!

The broadcast opens on the doorframe backstage of the Chase Center, with a placard reading: XWF Management.

Curt, muffled bursts of conversation are overheard. There’s almost a ring of jubilation to them.

But when the doorknob turns, the sounds are drowned out entirely by the crowd.

Dolly Waters steps through the door, and into the backstage area.

Not a hint of jubilation on her features.

JC: MY GOD, SHE’S HERE!

JR: WHAT DOES SHE THINK SHE’S DOING HERE, JACK?

The camera crew follows Dolly -a noticeable limp to her step- as she marches through the backstage, and into guerilla. All while the crowd grows louder and louder. Dolly isn’t reacting to any of it. Her eyes narrowed. Dolly stops just before the curtain. The noise on the other side is deafening.

For a moment she doesn’t move. Not in hesitation. Not in fear. Just… calculation.

JC: She hasn’t said a word since March Madness, Jack. Since she did the unthinkable in beating Kieran King… not a single appearance… not a single statement.

JR: Pfft… and now she just walks back in like she never left?

Dolly adjusts her knee brace. She winces… just barely.

Then she pushes through the curtains.

No music.

The crowd erupts anyway.

It’s not your typical pop, it’s a surge.

Like something overdue finally arrived.

The hard cam shakes. Phones go up. People stand and roar.

But Dolly doesn’t acknowledge any of it. She’s not waving. Not smiling. She just walks. Slow, and measured steps, with a limp that she doesn’t hide… a limp that she doesn’t favor.

JC: That knee is still bad, Joe. You can see it in every step.

JR: Which is exactly why she has no business being out here!

Halfway down the ramp, Dolly pauses. She looks at the ring. Like she’s measuring it. Like she’s remembering it. Like she’s deciding something. Then she keeps walking. Up the stairs carefully. Gripping the rope. She pulls herself in and only then does she look out at the crowd, acknowledging them once.

Then she asks for the mic….

I didn’t come out here tonight to be cheered.

The crowd quiets slightly. Confused. Listening.

I didn’t come out here to celebrate.

Didn’t come out here to tell y’all everything’s gonna be alright.

Because it aint.

A pause

Four weeks ago, at March Madness…

I walked into this ring on one leg…

And I took somethin’ back that never should’ve been stolen in the first place.

Not for me.

For all of us.

She gestures, but not overly dramatic, just enough to get her point across

And I thought…

Maybe that’d be enough.

She shakes her head,

Maybe the Union could stand on its own two feet.

Maybe it didn’t need me anymore.

She taps her knee lightly

God knows I aint standing on two good ones.

But the last four weeks made something’ real clear…

Her tone sharpens,

As much as I still believe in all of you, and as much as I believe that the revolution doesn’t need one person -it needs all of us- this ain’t stable.

This aint safe.

And this damn sure ain’t over.

We got trillionaires treating this place like a playground.

We got factions tearin’ each other apart for scraps.

And we got a man…

She pauses again, almost wanting to correct herself for that description,

Walkin’ around with gold on his waist…

After spilling the blood of one of our own.

The crowd begins to rumble, picking up what she’s putting down

So I didn’t come back because I wanted to… I came back because I was left with no choice.

As of tonight… i ain’t asking anymore…

She raises a slow, firm fist into the air,

I am formally assuming the role of President of the NCAC -the National Combat Athletes Collective.

–The only labor union to ever be codified into the bylaws of the XWF.

A codification that was just acknowledged by the Trillionaire Triumvirate themselves–

And the first order of business… is accountability.

Dolly’s sharp tone lowers to something similar to a growl,

Samael Dyson-

The crowd rumbles a little more

You don’t get to call this a workplace… and then commit murder in it.

The crowd noise spikes. It’s uneasy. Intense.

So the Union will be votin’...

Effective immediately…

On yer’ removal from the XWF.

The camera zooms in on Dolly’s intense features

PERMANENTLY!

From the roar of the crowd now, it’s easy to tell that the majority of the audience agrees with this measure,

And if the people in that locker room have even a shred of the integrity that I believe they have… then yer’ done here, Dyson.

She lowers the mic slightly,

Becasue this ain’t about power. It ain’t about tiles. And it damn sure ain’t about me.

It’s about whether or not this place belongs to the people who bleed in it… or the ones who think they own it.

And we’re about to find out.

“The Gentle Art of Making Enemies” interrupts.

JC: Waitaminute! Wait just a damn minute! That's Kieran King's music! Except Kieran King wasn't allowed in the building last Warfare!

JR: Looks like something has changed on that front!

JC: But where is he?

Dolly turns to the stage, scowling.

Suddenly, the crowd starts to murmur.

It roars to life as a figure jumps over the barricade.

JC: It's Kieran King! Sneaking in through the crowd!

JR: Why is his music playing if he's sneaking into the building?

JC: Don't overthink it, Joe!

JR: I'm not! I am literally incapable of deep thinking! This is literally the bare minimum of thought!

Regardless of the sad state of Joe Rogan's internal workings, Kieran King slides into the ring.

Dolly recognises that something is up… but not soon enough.

She turns, but with perverse precision, King fires into her knee with a chop block.

Dolly crumbles.

And King pounces.

He stomps on her already damaged knee a few times before exiting the ring to claim a steel chair.

Security starts pouring down the entrance ramp!

JC: It's the XWF Security Team here to save the day. Incidentally, Kieran King's own former Kingsguard!

JR: They had a tense staredown last week.

JC: And Kieran made a promise that he wouldn't be so cooperative the next time.

JR: This is the next time!

Some of the security team slide into the ring to check on Dolly Waters and protect her from further harm.

Others target the intruder—Kieran.

He swings his chair tauntingly at security. Then, he chuckles, and exits over the barricade, hightailing it with a microphone in hand.

The bustling crowd, and Kieran's own craftiness, puts distance between himself and the pursuing security forces.

Kieran King: Little pigs, little pigs, let me in! I told you can't keep me out! I have a fucking contract! What's that broken sack of shit in the ring going to do to enforce that, eh?

I was forced to defend MY Universal Title in situations that NOBODY has ever done before! And what, we move on from those injustices!

Newsflash, Dolly: Nobody gave a fuck about Madison Dyson!

But everyone cares about me!!!!

If they didn't, why were they all dead set on trying to stop me?

I am STILL heads and shoulders above everyone on this fucking roster! Shit, your main event tonight is two people who have BOTH failed to beat me! And THAT is who you think should be competing for the Universal Title? How many times have I beaten Scoops? Three? Four? Fiv…

Kieran keeps talking, but no sound seems to come out.

He bangs on the microphone but to no avail.

JR: I think Kieran's microphone might have been turned off!

JC: Thank God!

JR: Whatever happened to free speech, man?

JC: Yes, well… we all know how shallow Elon Musk's defense of free speech really is…

Speaking of…

The X-Tron comes to life with the faces of our saviours (and in fact the saviours of all humanity), Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and THE ZUCK!

Elon Musk: You know what? Fine, Kiki. Fine. Next week, you're allowed in the building. We’ll have you escorted all the way down to the ring, and we're going to ‘deal’ with your contract, one way or another.

Before the X-Tron cuts off, Kieran smirks and raises a middle finger to the tron, and then gives two to the security team as he disappears into the building.

JC: DAMNIT! King struck and then ran!

JR: That wasn’t about winning a fight, Jackie. King was sending a message!

The camera cuts back to the ring

Dolly Waters is surrounded by security and medics. They kneel beside her, checking on her knee - but she shoves them away.

The crowd roars!

Dolly rolls onto her side, reaching for the bottom rope. Her fingers curl around it, knuckles whitening as she pulls.

She tries to stand…

But her leg gives out instantly.

She drops back down to a knee.

JC: That knee is shot! She can’t even put weight on it.

JR: This is exactly what I was talking about. She shouldn’t be out here!

Dolly exhales sharply. Controlled. And then she tries again.

Slow and deliberate. Painfully real. And this time she gets halfway up, balancing on one leg. Shaking, but upright none the less.

The crowd begins to rise with her.

Dolly doesn’t look toward the ramp. Doesn’t look for Kieran. Instead she turns her head up at the X-Tron. Where the Trillionaire Triumvirate stood.

Her jaw tightens. Her breathing steadies. No words. Just that look of hers.

JC: This…. This isn’t over, Joe…

JR: Not even close.

The crowd roars as Dolly forces herself fully upright for just a moment, and then leans into the ropes, catching herself.

Still hurt.

Still compromised.

Still standing.

Jordan Penn
- vs -
Frances Marigold
Flaming Tables XXX-Travaganza

First Man to Put Their Opponent through a Flaming Table Wins

The smell of gasoline already hangs in the air. Tables are stacked at ringside like promises waiting to be kept. Packs of matches sit scattered across the apron. The crowd is loud before anything even starts.

Frances Marigold is grinning.

Jordan Penn is not.

When the bell rings, they circle once. That is all Jordan allows himself before stepping in clean and fast, snapping a low kick into Frances’ thigh and following with a sharp forearm. Frances eats it, barely reacting, then laughs. Actually laughs. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and swings a wild right that Jordan barely slips.

Jordan pivots, hooks the arm, and takes Frances down with a tight arm drag. He transitions immediately, looking to control the wrist, trying to ground the chaos before it starts. Frances rolls through, pops back up, and swings again. This time it connects.

Jordan staggers.

Frances points at him like he just proved something.

They collide again and this time it is not technical. It is fists. Frances throwing wide, heavy shots that sound like cinderblocks hitting flesh. Jordan trying to keep it clean, tight, precise. He slips one and lands a clean combination to the body and head, then shoots in and drives Frances back into the ropes.

Jordan tries to whip him.

Frances plants his feet and refuses.

Jordan tries again.

Frances yanks him in and crushes him with a short arm lariat that nearly flips him.

Jordan hits hard and rolls, already trying to create distance.

Frances does not chase right away.

Instead, he reaches into his gear.

The crowd roars.

JC: Frances stuffed a weapon into his pants! He's reaching for it! It's...it's a-

JR: Is that Rumpleminze?

He pulls out a tiny bottle. A shooter. He cracks it open with his teeth and downs it in one go, head tilted back, throat working, then tosses it aside and wipes his mouth again.

Jordan looks at him like he is dealing with something completely irrational.

Frances just grins wider.

Jordan moves first, charging in with a dropkick that catches Frances square and sends him stumbling back into the ropes. Jordan is on him now, grabbing, striking, pushing him toward the outside. He tries to dump him over the top.

Frances fights it, then suddenly shifts and backdrops Jordan up and over instead.

Jordan lands on his feet on the outside.

Frances does not give him a second.

He runs.

He hits the ropes.

He launches himself over the top rope with a wild, reckless dive that crashes down onto Jordan and sends both men sprawling into the sea of tables!

The crowd erupts!

JR: Frances Marigold is fighting like he's drunk out there! He's throwing himself around like he can't even feel pain!

JC: And maybe he can't! But Jordan Penn definitely can- and that bump looked NASTY!

Frances is up first, already grabbing one of the tables and sliding it into the ring. He drags another upright against the barricade, then grabs one of the gasoline canisters and shakes it, listening to the slosh inside like it is music.

Jordan slides into the ring behind him and catches him with a forearm to the back of the head. Frances stumbles forward and drops the canister. Jordan grabs him and snaps him down with a quick DDT onto the canvas.

Jordan moves with purpose now. He sets the table up in the center of the ring, making sure the legs are locked, checking the balance. He goes back to Frances, pulling him up, trying to control him, trying to dictate the pace.

Frances throws a headbutt.

It lands hard.

Jordan stumbles back, stunned, and Frances follows with another, then another, until Jordan drops to a knee.

JR: I've always thought Jordan Penn was hardheaded, but it looks like Frances' head is even harder!

Frances grabs the gasoline canister again and starts pouring it across the table. The liquid splashes and soaks the wood.

The smell gets stronger.

Frances reaches for a pack of matches.

Jordan explodes forward and tackles him before he can strike one.

They crash into the mat, grappling, rolling, each trying to control the other’s hands. Jordan gets top position and starts hammering down short strikes, trying to wear Frances down, trying to slow him, trying to bring this back to something he understands.

Frances just laughs again.

He bucks his hips and throws Jordan off, rolling to his feet and swinging wildly. One shot connects. Then another. Jordan tries to cover up but Frances is relentless now, driving him back, backing him into the corner.

Frances grabs Jordan and hurls him across the ring. Jordan hits the corner hard and stumbles out.

Right into a spinebuster from Frances that rattles the ring!

JC: Marigold is like a bull in a china shop! He's just wreaking havoc all over the ring!

JR: And a Blaque Sheep can't do nothin' to a raging bull, Jacquinde!

Frances gets up and reaches into his gear again.

Another shooter.

He pops it.

Drinks it.

Throws it.

The crowd is losing its mind for their drunken hero!

Jordan is trying to stand. Frances grabs him by the head and starts firing punches, each one slower but heavier than the last. Jordan tries to answer with a clean shot but Frances eats it and keeps coming.

At ringside, one of Penn's goons tries to interfere. Wallace hops onto the apron.

Frances sees him.

Frances drops Jordan and walks over, eyes locked.

Wallace hesitates.

That is his mistake.

Frances grabs him by the collar and yanks him through the ropes like he weighs nothing, dragging him into the ring and immediately planting him with a brutal right hand that drops him flat. One more for good measure. Wallace is done! He drops to the mat before rolling out like a ragdoll.

Penn's other ringside goon, Greg Brune, goes to slide in from the other side, trying to blindside Frances-

But he never makes it.

Hands reach over the barricade.

Fans grab him.

They pull him back!

Greg fights, kicking, shouting, but there are too many of them. He gets dragged over the barricade and disappears into the crowd, swallowed up by a wave of screaming, laughing Frances supporters.

JC: Jordan Penn brought some of his friends to the ring, but he forgot that EVERYONE in this arena is a friend of Frances Marigold!

JR: If Jordan Penn wants to play dirty, then these fans are going to play dirty! I think these people would put their lives on the line for Frances Marigold!

Jordan is back on his feet.

He sees the opening.

He charges.

He hooks Frances from behind and hits a clean German suplex that folds him up and drops him hard. Jordan holds on, rolls through, and hits another. Then a third, bridging instinctively before remembering none of that matters here.

Jordan releases and scrambles up, breathing hard.

He looks at the table.

He looks at the matches.

This is his chance.

He grabs the pack, strikes one.

The flame flickers to life.

For a second, everything feels controlled.

He drops the match onto the gasoline-soaked table.

Fire erupts.

The table ignites fast, flames licking up and dancing, heat radiating outward.

The crowd surges.

Jordan turns back to Frances and pulls him up, trying to set him, trying to get him onto his shoulders, trying to end this cleanly.

Frances fights.

He drives elbows back into Jordan’s head. One. Two. Three.

Jordan’s grip loosens.

Frances drops down behind him.

He shoves Jordan forward.

Jordan stumbles toward the flaming table but catches himself at the last second, stopping just inches from the fire.

He turns.

Frances is already there.

Frances grabs him and starts throwing.

Right hand.

Left hand.

Headbutt.

Jordan fires back with a precise strike that snaps Frances’ head to the side.

Frances laughs again.

Blood trickles from his forehead now.

He does not care!

Because he's Frances fuckin' Marigold!

JC: Frances is busted open! He's wearing a scarlet mask now!

JR: I get the feeling that's the way he likes it! Jordan Penn is in Frances Marigold's world now, baby!

Frances grabs Jordan and whips him into the ropes. Jordan rebounds and Frances catches him with a massive lariat that turns him inside out.

Jordan hits hard.

Frances does not stop.

He drags him up again, hooks him, and drives him down with a brutal slam right next to the flaming table. The heat is intense now, the fire crackling loud enough to hear.

Frances looks at it.

Then he does something else.

He reaches into his gear.

And pulls out a cigarette.

The crowd loses it!

He strikes a match.

Lights it.

Takes a drag.

Smoke curls up into the air, mixing with the fire.

JC: Alright now Joe, this is starting to get a little disrespectful! Frances is popping shooters, smoking cigarettes, and well, just dominating everything about this match!

JR: That's what he does! That's his thing! If Frances Marigold were a clown, he would be "Kicks Your Ass and Steals Your Girlfriend While Smoking A Cigarette Clown"!

Jordan crawls, trying to get away.

Frances flicks the cigarette aside and grabs him.

Frances has had enough of the games.

He hauls Jordan up, muscles straining, and lifts him onto his shoulders. Jordan fights, kicking, twisting, trying to slip free, but Frances clamps down and adjusts his grip.

Frances roars.

And then he runs.

Two steps.

Three.

He launches forward and throws Jordan Penn off his shoulders and straight through the flaming table.

The wood explodes on impact.

Fire bursts outward.

Jordan crashes through it all, disappearing in a shower of sparks and broken planks.

The flames scatter as the table collapses beneath him.

The crowd erupts into absolute chaos.

Frances stumbles back, chest heaving, arms out wide, laughing through blood and sweat and smoke.

Jordan lies in the wreckage, unmoving.

Winner: Frances Marigold

Frances Marigold stands in the center of the ring, breathing fire like he belongs there, like he always has, like this was never going to end any other way.

EMTs run down the ramp carrying fire extinguishers. They rush into the ring and begin spraying foam all over Jordan Penn.

JC: What a DOMINANT performance from Frances Marigold! He just destroyed the tag-team champion AND two of his goons! This match started out as a 3v1…and it was never even close! Marigold didn’t even break a sweat!

JR: I’ve always liked Frances Marigold, I always knew he was a tough guy! But a match like this? I didn’t know he had it in him! I’m not usually a prisoner of the moment, Jacquinde…but I think we just watched a star be born!

JC: Listening to this standing ovation from the crowd, I think you might be right Joe! But we can’t sit around and glaze Frances all night, no matter how much we may want to- because we have a lot more WARFARE coming up next!

We’re back from commercial and after the ring crew has finished spraying out the fire… Jordan Penn is shaking his head rising off the mat…

Jordan Penn pulls himself exhaustedly up against the ropes… As the crowd rains boos down on the man once known as The Director, Penn smirks at the audience with a face they’ve grown far too familiar with. He brushes sweat and soot off his brow…

JR: Jordan Penn may have taken the loss, but from his expression… you’d think this was just one step in his master plan!

JC: A compelling performance from Seba-er… Jordan Penn here tonight.

JR: Ain’t that right, gonna take awhile to get used to that mug matched with that violence.

Penn turns towards the camera, smug.

Suddenly the crowd pops!

JC: HOLY COW IT’S A ROYAL INQUISITION.

Isaiah King comes slamming into Penn’s back, bringing him from his smug confidence crashing into the mat before his partner's twin can even turn to meet his eyes.

JR: CHEAP SHOT!

Isaiah follows up with a series of body shots to the down man - driving Penn into the mat repeatedly. Penn tries to throw up his guard but hitting the ribs, liver and face have him flailing.

JC: Power from King!

Isaiah pulls Penn up from the mat, whips him into a corner and explodes into a devastating SPINEBUSTER that rocks the ring.

The crowd explodes into cheers - Isaiah flips back up onto his feet, focused.

JR: Wait! The ramp, look!

Sebastian Everett-Bryce emerges through the curtains, face steeled. He has a firm hand on an ankle… That belongs to-

JC: It’s ASHER HAYES!

Hayes is barely keeping consciousness, blinking out the blood in his eyes.

JR: This is turning into a shitshow.

SEB rolls Hayes into the ring, giving Hayes enough time to stumble onto his feet - dazed.

SEB steps in, clean and precise.

He glances to the mat, his thigh twitches for a kick.

Hayes turns away from him only for his chin to meet the sharp knuckles of a spinning punch from Isaiah King.

Hayes drops.

Sebastian laughs, slapping hands with Isaiah.

JC: Ain’t ever seen The Exiles revel in a beat down like this.

JR: They’re sick, they’re sick I tell ya!

SEB adjusts his sleeve, he even helps Isaiah straighten out his shirt. Isaiah gives him a small nod and the two stand side-by-side as they turn to the ramp.

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TkUKyTLYQos[/youtube]

Sex Metal Barbie explodes throughout the speakers.

JC: It’s Jenny MYST, the woman behind the scenes must be FUUURIOUS.

JR: About time someone with the right set of balls came to put this show back on track.

Jenny Myst comes stumbling out from the backstage. Korvayne rushes out with a steel chair, slamming it into Jenny’s face at the very top of the ramp.

JC: NO! It’s another beat down! Korvayne is getting retribution for last Warfare!!

Isaiah and Sebastian watch the altercation, chuckling to themselves as Korvayne drags Jenny kicking and screaming down the ramp. She rolls Jenny into the ring. Jenny rolls onto her knees and smirks at Sebastian - cussing him out in a way only she could. Sebastian casts a cursory glance at Isaiah before throwing up a boot into Myst’s jaw.

JR: HE’D KICK A GIRL?

JC: Well… Jenny Myst.

JR: What’re you implying!

JC: I mean we aren’t strangers to Miss Myst….

Korvayne rolls into the ring with the former XWF Tag Team champions and stands eye-to-eye with Isaiah. Sebastian’s eyes flit between the two before he slaps her on the back a few times encouragingly.

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kqHSGVtfXhc]

JC: IT’S CHARLIE NICKLES

JR: And Oz is quickly behind him.

Korvayne turns to the top of the ramp to see one of half the XWF Tag Champs and a dominant Mr Oz burst through the back and rush their way down the ring. Both have vicious looking barbed wire wrapped baseball bats in their arms.

Isaiah and Sebastian step up next to her and get ready for a brawl.

She glances at the two men next to her - men she’d just gone to war with.

And gives them a quick wave… GOODBYES.

Korvayne: You got this, guys. I’m too cute to die!

She backs up to the ropes, and flips backwards out of the ring. Her waiting simp catches her on his shoulders and leaps into the crowds, vanishing.

Isaiah and Sebastian exchange glances. They sigh disappointedly for a second before chuckling to themselves as if they should’ve known better. They give Charlie a quick wink before dropping out on either side of the ring and breaking off into opposite sides of the crowd on their own.

JC: And they’ve escaped the brotherhoods clutches for now!

JR: What cowards! They start a fight but won’t end it!

The camera fizzles as both of the Exiles stand on opposite sides of the stadium, flipping off the Brotherhood while Charlie and Oz seethe and help their teammates up.

JC: I- I think we’re being told to go to an ad break!

The camera opens up in the backstage area, revealing a bubbly Remi Storm striding down the hallway. The bright lights are catching the edges of her gear and making the glitter in it shimmer as she moves.

Remi’s pace has a rhythm to it—light, almost buoyant. Not quite skipping, but close. There’s an ease in the way she moves, like she’s riding a current of adrenaline she doesn’t want to fight. Her boots land with soft, confident steps, her shoulders loose, her expression focused but undeniably bright. A small smile curves the corners of her lips.

She passes by a pair of crew members mid-conversation and gives them a quick, playful spin as she goes by, not even breaking stride. One of them laughs, shaking their head, she’s already known for this exact kind of energy.

As she turns down a quieter corridor, she passes by a doorway. She makes it a few steps more before hitting the brakes, and putting it in reverse, leaning backwards to peer into an open doorway.

In her locker room, Revolution Champion and challenger for the Universal title Betsy Granger is warming up. She’s moving through controlled drills, sharp strikes, measured footwork, shoulders rolling loose between combinations. There’s a discipline to it, a calm intensity that the woman seemed to carry in spades.

Completely locked in.

Remi’s expression morphs into recognition and cheer, maybe even a hint of admiration. Then it warms. Her eyes brighten, a small, knowing smile forming as she watches Betsy for a few seconds.

She knocks on the doorframe but gets no response. Remi tilts her head slightly, noticing the earbuds, the way Betsy is completely sealed into her own world. Her steps are quiet as she closes the distance, careful not to interrupt too abruptly. She approaches just off to Betsy’s side rather than directly behind her, trying to ease into her line of sight instead of startling her. For a moment, she simply watches, timing it, reading the rhythm of Betsy’s movement.

Betsy throws another clean combination, pivots…

Still doesn’t see her.

That small smile returns, a touch more playful now. She steps a little closer, just enough to enter the edge of Betsy’s peripheral vision.

Nothing.

So Remi lifts a hand and gives a small, casual wave in front of Betsy’s line of sight, like you would to someone you don’t want to startle.That’s what breaks through.

Betsy’s motion falters—not dramatically, just enough. Her eyes flick sideways, catching movement that shouldn’t be there in her rhythm. She slows, pulling one earbud free as she turns her head—

—and finally sees Remi’s grinning face.

With a responding grin of her own, Betsy pulls out the other earbud and turns gracefully on her toes to face Remi head-on.

Betsy: Well met, newest bestie!

Grabbing the towel that was hanging over the bench, Betsy dabs at her sweaty neck and face, shifting her braid over her shoulder to cool off. Plopping down, she grabs her water bottle and takes a few measured sips, gesturing for Remi to join her. Setting the bottle down, she takes a few breaths to steady herself and flashes Remi a warm smile.

Betsy: Feeling good about tonight?

Remi shifts her weight slightly, one foot rocking forward as if she still has some of that earlier motion in her system, but now it’s calmer. There’s a quiet confidence in the way she holds herself, shoulders relaxed, chin just slightly lifted as she moves forward, sinking down beside Betsy.

Remi: Yeah… I am. I feel ready.

There’s no hesitation behind it. She lets out a small breath. Her eyes flick down for a split second, then back up to Betsy, that soft smile still there.

Remi: But I’m not about to count Rowan out, not for a second.

She gives a small shake of her head. There’s respect in the way she says it—no fear, no doubt, just awareness at what she’s up against. She tilts her head slightly, studying Betsy now, her eyes bright with curiosity and a little spark of encouragement.

Remi: What about you?

Her tone turns playful.

Remi: I’m rooting for you to take that Uni from Scoops.

The corner of Betsy’s lip quirks upward involuntarily, the bubbly energy of her new friend proving too infectious. Nodding her approval, she takes another sip before replying.

Betsy: I’m rooting for me, too.

A slight quiver in her tones betrays… Nerves? Determination? Anticipation? All of the above… Definitely that one. Not for the first time that day, her pulse quickens as she thinks about the fight ahead, bringing her back to her feet and into her drills once again.

Betsy For what it’s worth, I think you’ve got a great chance out there tonight. I’ve been keeping an eye on you lately… You were impressive in TPW, too. You’ve had an excellent showing around these parts. What short-term goals have you been thinking about for yourself?

Remi Hey, thank you. That means a lot, especially coming from you.

She watches Betsy for a few moments, as if gathering her thoughts.

Remi: I think right now, it’s about proving I belong here. Not just showing up, not just having good moments, but being consistent. Being someone people expect to see step up when it matters.

She glances back at Betsy, a little more confidence settling in as she continues.

Remi: I want wins that actually mean something. And yeah… eventually, I want to be in that title picture. I’m not gonna pretend I don’t.

A faint smile tugs at her lips.

Remi: But I’m not in a rush to skip steps to get there. I want to build something.

She pauses, then lets out a small, almost amused breath, her expression warming again as she lightly tilts her head.

Remi: Plus… if I’m coming after gold, I’d rather know I can stand across from someone, and it actually means something when I do. TPW, I earned my spot in the first match, but then I won two on the way there.

Betsy: That’s one of the things I’ve always found… Fascinating, about what we do. Proving you belong is expected of anyone, but if you happen to be better than most from the start, then…

The Traveler shrugs her shoulders and leans over, taking the Revolution Championship out of her gym duffel, holding it out to Remi.

Betsy: Who’s to say part of that foundation doesn’t involve a little gold shimmer?

She holds out the belt to Remi, encouraging her to take it. Remi’s eyes settle on the championship the second Betsy brings it into view, and there is no hesitations. She takes it, Her hands find their place on it like they’ve done this a million times before, like the shape and weight aren’t foreign to her. Still, there’s a pause once it’s in her grasp. Her fingers tighten just slightly along the edge of the plate, grounding herself in the feel of it.

There’s memory there.

Remi: True…

Her thumb brushes across the face of the title, slower than before—not inspecting it, but feeling it. Like she’s reconnecting with something. A flicker of emotions crossed her face, a mixture of hunger and determination.

Remi: You know, no one really prepares you for how it feels to win one of these. When it’s actually in your hands and it hits you that it’s real.

She shifts her grip slightly, lifting the belt just a fraction

Remi: I want that again.

Betsy nods, giving Remi a knowing look and nod of her head.

Betsy: I know what you mean… That is… You know-

Her breath catches as she waves her arm towards the center of the building.

Betsy: We’re like junkies, always looking for a bigger hit. I wouldn’t mind feeling that ecstasy I hear comes with winning the big one. I’ve never held a belt that heavy…

She completes another sequence of kicks and strikes as her mind wanders once again to the match ahead, to the idea of winning the Universal title. To what possibly comes after if she hangs onto it long enough to make it to Leap of Faith… Shaking her head clear and focusing up again, looks over her shoulder at Remi and grins.

Betsy: And should I win that Uni tonight, it wouldn’t be right to hang onto that beauty…

She nods her head towards the Revolution Title that Remi was still holding.

Remi:: And it looks good on you.

It takes a second, but Remi stills as the meaning lands. Her brow furrows slightly as her gaze flits from the belt to Betsy.

Remi: I couldn’t disagree with you there…

The impish smile returns.

Remi: And I’d want to earn it… against you.

This makes Betsy chuckle, a smirk crossing her face. Taking the belt back, she rests it over her shoulder and gives Remi a pondering glance.

Betsy: We’ll see… The Universe has a funny way of getting in the way of what we want, what we plan.

With a cheeky grin, Betsy shrugs and starts heading towards the catering table.

Betsy: I can see this belt on you, yet… Good luck to you out there tonight.

Remi responds with a grin and a nod of her own before moving along her way, both women locking back in for their upcoming matches later in the night…

The lights dim. A low, almost imperceptible hum of static rolls through the speakers. The crowd murmurs, unsure if this is intentional or a tech glitch.

A single cold white spotlight snaps on, not centered on the stage but slightly off to the left, like production missed their cue or Rowan Vance wasn’t where they expected him to be.

Then the unmistakable bassline of “Psycho Killer” by Talking Heads kicks in.

The crowd reacts instantly, some cheering, some laughing at the unexpected choice, all of them paying attention.

Rowan Vance steps into the light.

Hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted. Expression unreadable, like he’s listening to something only he can hear.

JC: Rowan Vance! For such a quiet soul, he has made a LOUD impact on the XWF!

JR: He’s been dominant, Jacuinde! He beat Ennui Clown and El Landerson, two very different competitors! And what’s most impressive is his poise and confidence throughout! Rowan had a size disadvantage against Ennui and a speed disadvantage against Landerson… but it never once felt like the match wasn’t in his control! Like he wasn’t in the driver’s seat.

JC: His composure is beyond his years! For such a young man, it’s clear his mind is built for wrestling! But, tonight, he’s got his stiffest challenge to date! Can he continue his undefeated streak!

Vance doesn’t pose, he just starts walking. Slow, steady, deliberate. Sometimes a hand will come out to slap fives or fist bump those in the crowd.

Every few steps, he glances over his shoulder, not dramatically, just a subtle, instinctive check, like he heard a footstep behind him.

The spotlight follows him, but always a fraction of a second late, giving the whole thing a slightly off‑kilter, uncanny rhythm.

As he reaches the ramp, the lighting shifts: a faint blue haze rolls across the stage, giving him a silhouette that looks almost doubled, like someone is walking just behind him.

The crowd can’t tell if it’s a trick of the lights or something else.

Rowan reaches ringside. He pauses as the chorus hits that jittery, staccato vocal rhythm.

He still doesn’t position himself for photo opportunities, doesn’t smirk, just stops, his head turning slightly like he’s trying to locate a sound in the rafters.

Then he slides under the bottom rope with the same quiet, fluid motion he does everything else… As he stands, the arena lights flicker, just once.

Not enough to scream “supernatural.” Just enough to make the audience shift in their seats. Rowan doesn’t react, he’s used to it.

He walks to his corner, leans back against the turnbuckles, and waits, hands still in his pockets, eyes scanning the arena like he’s cataloguing every noise, every movement, every pattern.

The music fades. The static hum returns for half a second, then there's silence, and Rowan Vance is ready.

…

Ring Entrance (PLEASE write one out for use in match/show writing):

The arena lighting dims to black. Pink and silver lightning streak across the screen.

"She went bad

Made her pretty little world turn black

Miss perfect never had a chance

Threw a middle finger up

She's heading to hell anyway"

Twin pink sparkly spotlights hit the entryway as Remi skips out from behind the curtains. She pauses at the top of the ramp, tossing her hair over her shoulder, scanning the screaming audience before her. With a smile, she scampers down towards the ring as the spotlights follow. Once there, she grabs ahold of a post, swinging around it while blowing a kiss to the camera.

She hops up onto the apron and rolls over the top rope. She crosses to the other side, giving a little shimmy dance as she does. She nimbly leaps onto the turnbuckle, lifting both hands over her head and flashing a cocky grin. The spotlights cut out, the lighting strobing pink and silver before returning to normal as Remi steps down onto the mat.

JC: Remi Storm! The Storm is HERE! And she’s ready to rain down on her opponent!

JR: Speaking of shredding clowns, Remi wrecked Doctor Clown MD… and she made John Blade look absolutely dull!

JC: But this is a big leap in opponent talent for Remi! From Doctor Clown to Rowan Vance… it’s night and day difference! Can she rise to the occasion?

Rowan Vance
- vs -
Remi Storm
Submission Match

The bell rings—

—and for once, there’s no immediate explosion.

Rowan Vance stands near center ring, shoulders loose, head tilted ever so slightly as he studies. Across from him, Remi Storm bounces once on the balls of her feet, then stills—just enough to meet him in the moment.

A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth.

Rowan gives the faintest nod.

They circle.

JC: This already feels different, Joe.

JR: That’s because it is, Jacuinde! No chaos, no wild swings—this is two minds stepping into the ring before the bodies follow!

Remi steps in first—but not recklessly. Her hand shoots out—

Rowan meets it.

Collar and elbow tie-up.

There’s no struggle for dominance, not immediately. Instead, there’s pressure. Testing. Feeling.

Rowan subtly shifts his grip, rotating his wrist inward—

Wristlock.

He turns through it smoothly, drawing Remi down just a fraction, testing her base.

Remi’s eyes flick to his hands.

Then her shoulders roll.

She spins under—

Reversal!

Now she has the wristlock, cranking it just enough to make a point. She flashes a quick smirk.

JR: Oh, I like that! She’s not just escaping—she’s answering!

Rowan’s expression doesn’t change—but his stance does.

He steps in closer, eliminating space.

His free hand slides up—

Hammerlock transition.

He traps her arm behind her back, posture tightening, control re-established.

Remi exhales sharply through her nose—half irritation, half admiration.

Without hesitation, she drops her weight—

Forward roll!

She flips through the pressure, dragging Rowan with her—

Armdrag counter—

No!

Rowan halts the momentum midway, widening his base, absorbing it.

Remi lands on a knee instead of completing the throw—

—and immediately pivots—

Armbar!

She drops back, extending his arm fully, hips rising to apply pressure.

The crowd murmurs, appreciative.

JC: That’s a clean transition! These two are a step ahead of each other already!

Rowan’s eyes narrow—not in pain, but in calculation.

He doesn’t thrash.

He stacks.

Slowly, deliberately, he shifts his weight forward, folding Remi’s shoulders toward the mat—not for a pin, but to change the angle—

Then rolls.

He rotates through the pressure, twisting his arm free just enough—

—and in the same motion—

Catches her wrist.

Wristlock again.

They’re back on their feet.

Remi laughs under her breath.

JR: You hear that? She’s enjoying this!

Remi doesn’t waste time—she steps in tight, flipping her grip—

Hammerlock on Rowan now.

She leans in, applying pressure between the shoulder blades.

Rowan’s head tilts again.

He shifts his footing—small, precise—

Then reaches back—

Grabs her wrist—

Drops suddenly—

Roll-through!

He drags her forward over his shoulder—

Fujiwara armbar!

This time he sits into it, controlling the shoulder, pressing down with clinical precision.

Remi winces—but there’s a grin there too.

She plants her free hand, kicks her legs up—

Cartwheel escape!

She spins over him, relieving the pressure mid-rotation—

—and lands behind him—

Hammerlock again!

But Rowan doesn’t stay there.

He rolls forward immediately, not even letting the hold settle—

He flips through—

Drags her down—

Cross armbar attempt—

Remi clasps her hands!

She blocks it, muscles tensing—

Rowan adjusts, trying to pry the grip apart—

Remi shifts her hips—

Stacks him now!

The position reverses—

She twists—

Rolling transition—

Triangle setup—

No!

Rowan postures up just in time, breaking the angle before it locks in fully.

They disengage—

Both rise to their feet almost simultaneously.

A beat.

They stare at each other.

Remi brushes a strand of hair back, smirking wider now.

Rowan gives another small nod—this one sharper.

JC: This is incredible! Neither one can keep control for more than a second!

JR: Because they’re both thinking two moves ahead! This ain’t checkers, Jacuinde!

They circle again—but closer now.

Faster.

Remi darts in—

Wristlock—

Rowan rolls through—

Reversal—

Remi spins—

Hammerlock—

Rowan pivots—

Drop to a knee—

Arm drag attempt—

Remi cartwheels through it—

Lands—

Snatches the leg!

Ankle lock!

She drops instantly, twisting the ankle, torquing the knee as she falls back.

JC: She’s got it! That’s deep!

Rowan’s body jolts with the sudden shift.

For the first time, there’s a visible reaction—his brow tightens.

But only for a moment.

His hands plant on the mat.

He doesn’t reach for the ropes.

He pushes up—

Tucks his chin—

Somersault!

His body flips forward, using the trapped leg as a pivot—

Remi is forced to follow—

She’s pulled up and over—

—but she goes with it—

Somersault of her own!

She rolls clean through, releasing just enough to avoid getting tangled—

—and lands on her feet.

Rowan kips up in the same instant.

They both reset.

Standing.

Facing each other.

As the crowd rises to their feet, screaming!

JC: Wow! These two… this is very different!

JR: It isn’t brutal, it’s not vicious! These two like each other, but this is wrestling at its finest! Two elite competitors giving each other their all!

They don’t circle this time.

They step in.

Simultaneously.

Hands meet again—faster now, sharper, less exploratory.

Remi snaps into a collar tie, immediately dragging Rowan downward, trying to break his posture—

Rowan resists—not with strength, but with positioning. He shifts his hips, redirects her pull—

Slides to the side—

Arm drag!

Remi rolls through it instantly, barely touching the mat—

Pops back up—

Snatches the arm—

Standing armbar!

She cranks down, rising onto her toes to increase the pressure, her expression tightening with focus.

No smirk now.

Rowan’s jaw sets.

He steps forward into the pressure instead of away from it—

Closes the distance—

Then drops—

Roll-through counter!

He spins under her arm, twisting his shoulder free—

Transitions—

Rear waist lock!

He doesn’t hold it—he uses it—

Mat return attempt—

Remi hooks his leg!

Blocks it!

She shifts her weight sideways—

Hip toss!

Rowan flips—

But lands on his feet.

They both turn at the same time—

Remi fires a low kick toward his leg—

Rowan checks it—

Catches her ankle—

Single-leg takedown!

He drives through cleanly, planting her on her back and immediately capturing the leg—

Heel hook attempt!

JC: Whoa! That’s dangerous territory!

JR: That’s not a transition anymore, that’s a threat!

Remi reacts instantly—no hesitation—

She twists her hips, rolling with the torque before it can lock in—

Spins through—

Kicks free—

Scrambles up—

But Rowan is already there.

He steps in—

Clinches—

Trips her leg out—

They go down together—

Rowan floats over—

Fujiwara armbar again!

This time deeper. Tighter. His chest presses down on her shoulder, isolating the joint completely.

Remi exhales sharply—this one hurts.

Her fingers flex against the mat.

Rowan adjusts his grip—micro-movements, increasing pressure millimeter by millimeter.

JR: Rowan Vance is closing in here! He’s not rushing it—he’s tightening the vice!

Remi grits her teeth—

Then suddenly—

She rolls toward him instead of away.

It compresses the hold—

But changes the angle.

She threads her leg over his head—

Kicks off—

Spins—

Triangle choke!

Locked in!

Her legs snap tight around his neck and trapped arm, heels digging in, hips lifting.

Now it’s Rowan’s turn to feel it.

A flicker of tension crosses his face.

Not panic—

But urgency.

JC: Remi’s got him trapped! That’s locked in beautifully!

Rowan doesn’t waste time.

He shifts his weight forward—

Stacks her.

Drives her shoulders toward the mat again—not for a pin, but to relieve pressure—

Remi squeezes tighter, adjusting the angle—

Rowan’s balance wavers—

But then—

He pivots.

Turns his body just enough—

Slides his trapped arm free—

And immediately drops his weight across her legs—

Kneebar attempt!

He snatches her leg, extending backward, pulling it tight against his chest.

Remi’s eyes widen—

She plants her hands, trying to sit up—

Rowan leans back further—

The pressure spikes—

JR: Now Rowan’s the one threatening to end it! That knee is not meant to bend like that!

Remi breathes out sharply—

Then moves.

She twists her hips—

Rolls sideways—

Rotates through the hold—

Her free leg kicks across—

Pushes against Rowan’s shoulder—

Creates just enough space—

She slips her knee loose—

And immediately—

Grabs his arm again!

Armbar!

They’re back on the mat, reversed again, her hips high, his arm extended—

But this time she holds it.

Just a fraction longer.

Rowan’s eyes narrow.

He clasps his hands—

Blocks full extension—

Remi adjusts, pulling harder—

Her intensity rising now.

No playful edge left.

This is competition.

Rowan plants his foot—

Bridges—

Rotates—

They roll—

Once.

Twice.

Third rotation—

Rowan comes up on top—

Still trapped—

But improving position—

He pries his hands apart—

Slips his elbow free—

And immediately transitions—

Crossface!

He drives his forearm across her face, turning her head away, controlling her upper body.

Remi winces—

But even that turns into motion—

She reaches—

Hooks his leg—

Roll-up motion—

But instead of a pin—

Inside cradle transition—

No—

She uses the momentum—

To spin behind him—

Rear mount!

She snakes her arm around his neck—

Rear naked choke attempt!

The crowd rises.

JC: This is escalating fast! Submission after submission! Neither one giving an inch!

Rowan’s breathing sharpens—but his movements stay precise.

He tucks his chin—

Grabs her wrist—

Peels it down just enough—

Then throws his weight sideways—

They crash to the mat—

He lands on top—

Breaks the grip—

But Remi doesn’t disengage—

She scrambles—

Hooks his arm—

Omoplata attempt!

She swings her leg over his shoulder, twisting his arm behind him—

Rowan posts with his free hand—

Balances—

Stops the full rotation—

But he’s trapped.

Remi sits up—

Leans forward—

Cranking the shoulder—

Rowan’s posture dips—

For the first time, he’s caught.

JR: Remi Storm might have him here! That shoulder is in a bad, bad way!

Rowan exhales slowly.

Once.

Then—

He rolls.

Forward.

Tucking his shoulder through the pressure—

Somersault escape!

He flips over her body—

Pulls his arm free—

And as he comes up—

He grabs her wrist—

Drags her forward—

Spins—

Snapmare!

Remi flips through it—

Lands on her feet—

Rowan surges forward to follow it up… He traps her arm!

JC: We’ve seen this before! He’s going for the Long Night!

But when he goes for the arm trap… in a snap, Remi manages to trap his arm!

JR: Whoa! Remi had it scouted!

Before Rowan can react, Remi heaves him off his feet!

UTSURI GOSHI!

JC: Wow! What a hip toss!

As Rowan’s back slams against the mat, without releasing his arm, Remi manages to roll over and flips Vance onto his front!

And she locks in a crossface!

JC: Oh man! There’s nowhere to go! He’s there in the center of the ring, far from the ropes!

Rowan grits his teeth, twisting in Remi’s grip…

Remi applies torque! Rowan’s face is clear, he’s not loving this!

Rowan…

Rowan taps out!

Winner: Remi Storm

Immediately, Remi releases the hold, breathing a sigh of relief after a hard-fought victory!

JC: Wow! What a match! Two of the XWF’s newest stars showed off exactly why the XWF’s future looks so bright!

JR: Two elite competitors, Jacuinde! But, only one could claim the win! And tonight, it’s Remi Storm!

Rowan lies on the mat, calculating… Not angry, simply thoughtfully thinking about what he could have done differently… A hand reaches over him. Remi offering him help up.

Rowan nods, taking hers and they both make it to their feet. And shake hands for a well-fought battle, as the crowd goes wild behind them.

The camera lights up to the backstage feed, and the crowd immediately pop in recognition once they take a look for themselves.

Dickie Watson stretches out inside a corridor, double-checking the tape on his wrists as he quietly nods to himself. He goes through the motions, focused, disciplined. He’s all business tonight.

Beside him is none other than the Universal Champion and King of the Ring, Scoops McGee himself! Scoops is wearing a trademark scowl and his Big Gold belt around his waist as he cracks his neck, going through some brief punching combinations to help himself warm up.

And the man who’s raising his hands for Scoops to box with is none other… than Corey Black!

JC: I guess that answers the question of where Corey Black’s allegiances lie after the last show!

JB: Real three of a kind, those are.

“Gonna be good for your match?” Scoops called out to Dickie between punches.

“Yeah,” Dickie grunted as he righted himself. “Should be asking you that question, you know.”

Scoops shrugged. “I’m good. Right as rain. Not gonna complain.”

Corey motioned to both men. “You see what the Exiles just did earlier in the show? I gotta hand it to SEB, I didn’t think he was that much of a coward to go sneak attacking like that. I’d rather stab them from the front.”

Dickie and Scoops shared a small smirk at that. “Hopefully they’ll know better than to go after us again like that. I’ve had enough of all this… cheap shit.”

“I’ll watch your backs tonight. If the Exiles or BoB wanna try to ruin one of your matches, I’ll rip ‘em up. I’ve been meaning to get at Charlie for the longest while, anyway.”

“Appreciate that, boah,” Scoops nodded as he offered Corey a fist bump. “Don’t you worry though, I bet we’re gonna-”

The trio’s commotion is broken up by a pair of footsteps entering the hall from one of the doors, grumbling to themselves. Sebastian Everett-Bryce and Isaiah King entered the hall, freezing as they saw the House of Hardcore staring back at them.

“Shit,” Isaiah realized as he realized their predicament.

Sebastian, however, stared coldly at both Corey and Scoops. “So, did you decide just to recruit one of my former friends so you could try and get in my head?”

“I don’t give a damn about that. It pays havin’ people watch yer’ back, you’d know a thing or two about that. Especially if yer’ gonna go around grabbin’ people by the ankles and draggin’ ‘em out to Hell.”

“I make my own decisions,” Corey frowned, cracking his knuckles as he stared daggers at Sebastian. “If I wanna go after you again, I’ll do it.”

“And if you want to get dropped again, feel free.”

Corey looked as if he was about to lunge at Sebastian on the spot, but it was only then that Isaiah spoke again. “You sure your tag partners wanna get roughed up before their match? Let’s take it outside right now.”

Dickie scoffed, amused. “What, you want a fair fight now all of a sudden? No cheap shots?”

The tension in the room was palpable. None of the five men were willing to back down from the ledge they were bringing themselves towards, until…

“WHERE ARE THEY?! I’LL KILL THEM!”

Charlie Nickles screamed and hollered until his voice ran hoarse, before finally barging into the same hall that the other two factions were in. The Exiles stepped back as Charlie, Jenny Myst and Asher Hayes were all looking for blood, but a dozen security guards quickly followed after them, trying to hold the group back.

“Wanna go after MY Brotherhood? I’ll fucking-”

“There you are, you sick FUCK!” Corey Black screamed back to Charlie at the top of his lungs! The two locked eyes as Black lunged for the Nickleman-

“Woah, woah, woah!” Dickie shouted, as both he and some of the security guards had to hold him back.

“What’re you waiting for? I’m right here!” Charlie cackled back at Corey, flipping him off. “You scared or somethin’, little man?”

Black was about to rush through the others like a battering ram as now Scoops got in his way. He lowered his voice as the two pushed their foreheads together.

“Listen to me right now, boah, yer’ gonna get yer’ chance against Charlie. I promise it. Wait for the right chance instead of lettin’ him goad you like that. Don’t let him get in yer’ head.”

Sebastian and Isaiah looked at each other, beginning to walk down the other end of the hallway as the action began to disperse.

“Yeah, that’s right, RUN!” Charlie called after the two. “I PROMISE you’ll be next! And then it’ll be you right after, Scoopsy!”

“I’ll be waitin’, you sick fuck!” Scoops shouted as he turned back at Charlie. “You and yer’ boahs get involved in my match or Dickie’s, and we’ll knock yer’ damn teeth down yer’ throat!”

He took one look towards the far end of the hallway, at SEB.

“SEBASTIAN!”

Sebastian looked back towards Scoops.

The Peasant King grinned. “Better tell yer’ girl she better be ready for war tonight. It’s gonna be the openin’ act for us come Leap of Faith!”

SEB’s glare darkened towards Scoops as Isaiah tapped him on the shoulder, helping to bring him back down to Earth as the pair walked off and Warfare went to commercial.

The arena is bathed in a deep red light that brings out the shadows in every nook and cranny as "Deep Set" by Greg Puciato starts to play. Kristoffer Arroyo steps through the entrance way, looking cool and confident behind is bright pink shades. He saunters down to the ring, taking his time and seeming to savor the moment before suddenly exploding into a slide into the ring.

JC: Kristoffer Arroyo! The Vamp! WarGames Finalist and former Anarchy champion!

JR: Coming out to that exact entrance Dickie was deriding him for! Red lights and black lip Hot Topic lip gloss or somesuch!

JC: Dickie can insult Arroyo’s aesthetic, but he can’t argue too much with Arroyo’s results in the ring! As Arroyo pointed out, he’s only been beaten twice in six months! But, Arroyo’s facing a former Universal champion… someone who has climbed to the top of the ladder! Someone who just last Warfare beat an XWF Legend! Can Dickie claim to be the third to beat Arroyo!

Arroyo then steps through the ropes onto the ring apron, where he wraps his legs around the middle rope and hangs himself upside down with his arms outstretched like an inverted cross. He smiles for the camera, revealing long sharpened incisors, before sitting up and rolling up and over the top rope and to the canvas. He then proceeds to get to a neutral corner and wait for the contest to begin.

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

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

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Kristoffer ‘Vamp’ Arroyo
Singles

DING! DING! DING!

Dickie steps out of his corner with that restless, coiled energy he’s known for — shoulders loose, feet light, eyes scanning Vamp’s stance like he’s solving a puzzle. Vamp stands tall and still, chin slightly raised, arms relaxed at his sides. No wasted motion. No tells. Just that cold, unreadable calm.

They circle.

Dickie feints a quick dart inward, testing Vamp’s reaction time. Vamp doesn’t flinch. He simply pivots, keeping Dickie in front of him, watching the younger man’s footwork instead of his hands. Dickie smirks and snaps a low kick toward Vamp’s thigh — light, probing. Vamp shifts his weight and lets it glance off harmlessly.

They close again.

Dickie reaches for a wrist tie, but Vamp swats his hand away and steps in with a sharp, straight palm strike to the chest. The impact forces Dickie back a step, more surprising than painful. Dickie rolls his shoulders, shakes it off, and circles again, this time moving faster.

He darts in, grabs Vamp’s wrist, and tries to roll under for a quick arm drag — but Vamp plants his feet and blocks it, dragging Dickie back upright with surprising strength. Dickie slips free and fires a quick elbow toward Vamp’s jaw, but Vamp leans back just enough for it to skim past.

Vamp answers with a short, stiff kick to Dickie’s calf. Clean. Efficient. No flourish.

Dickie winces and backs off, reassessing.

They circle again, the tension tightening.

Dickie moves first, snapping a mid‑kick into Vamp’s ribs. Vamp absorbs it and steps in close, grabbing Dickie around the waist. Dickie tries to twist out, but Vamp muscles him backward into the corner. Dickie’s back hits the turnbuckles and Vamp drives a shoulder into his gut, then another, grinding the air out of him.

Dickie shoves Vamp’s head down and slips out to the side, escaping the corner. He hits the ropes and rebounds with a running forearm — but Vamp ducks under it and grabs Dickie from behind. He tries for a back suplex, but Dickie flips through and lands on his feet, stumbling slightly before regaining balance.

Vamp turns — and Dickie is already airborne.

A quick jumping knee cracks against Vamp’s jaw, snapping his head back. Vamp drops to a knee, stunned, and Dickie hits the ropes again, building speed for a follow‑up.

Vamp rises just in time to catch Dickie mid‑stride, scooping him up and driving him down with a sudden, heavy slam that rattles the canvas. Dickie rolls away clutching his back, and Vamp steadies himself, breathing slow and controlled.

Both men push to their feet at the same time.

They close in again, faster now, the feeling‑out phase long gone. Dickie fires a sharp kick to Vamp’s ribs, but Vamp catches the leg and sweeps Dickie’s standing foot out from under him. Dickie hits the mat hard and Vamp drops into a quick lateral press.

ONE

Dickie kicks out and rolls backward to his feet, shaking out his leg. Vamp rises calmly, stepping forward with that cold, measured precision. Dickie rushes him, ducking under a palm strike and snapping a forearm across Vamp’s jaw. Vamp absorbs it and answers with a stiff knee to the gut that doubles Dickie over.

Vamp hooks Dickie’s arm and snaps him down with a tight arm‑wringer takedown, then floats over into another pin attempt.

ONE

TWO

Dickie bridges out, twisting his hips and rolling Vamp into a surprise cradle.

ONE

Vamp powers out instantly, pushing Dickie off and rising with a hint of irritation breaking through his usual calm.

Dickie smirks and circles again, bouncing lightly on his toes. Vamp steps in, reaching for a clinch, but Dickie slips behind him and shoves him toward the ropes. Vamp rebounds and Dickie leaps—catching him with a running hurricanrana that flips Vamp across the ring. The crowd pops as Dickie kips up smoothly, momentum finally swinging his way.

Vamp pushes to his feet, expression unchanged, but his stance a touch wider now. Dickie charges, going for a running knee, but Vamp sidesteps and grabs him around the waist. He lifts Dickie for a back suplex-Dickie flips out mid‑air and lands behind him, stumbling but upright.

Vamp turns-

-and Dickie cracks him with a spinning back elbow that sends Vamp staggering into the corner.

Dickie doesn’t hesitate. He sprints in, leaps, and drives a high knee into Vamp’s chest. Vamp slumps forward, and Dickie grabs his head, running up the turnbuckles for a tornado DDT-

-but Vamp plants his feet and blocks it, holding Dickie suspended mid‑rotation.

The crowd rises.

Vamp powers Dickie up and over, tossing him across the ring with a sudden, violent release throw. Dickie crashes hard, rolls through, and somehow ends up on his knees, clutching his back.

Vamp stalks him, slow and deliberate, then pulls Dickie upright by the wrist. He yanks him forward into a short‑arm lariat! But Dickie ducks under it, hits the ropes, rebounds-

-and both men collide in the center with simultaneous clotheslines, dropping each other flat.

The crowd roars as they lie there, chests heaving, both men pushing through the pain, both refusing to stay down.

Both men rise slowly after the double clothesline, shaking out their arms, sweat dripping, the crowd buzzing as the pace begins to climb again. Dickie is the first to move, stepping in with a sharp elbow that clips Vamp’s jaw. Vamp answers with a forearm that snaps Dickie’s head to the side. Dickie fires back. Vamp fires harder. The crowd swells as the strikes get faster, heavier, neither man giving an inch.

Dickie breaks the rhythm with a sudden low kick to Vamp’s thigh, then another, then a spinning back kick that forces Vamp to stagger. Dickie hits the ropes and rebounds into a running knee but Vamp sidesteps and shoves him forward, sending Dickie stumbling into the corner.

Vamp charges in, driving a heavy knee into Dickie’s ribs, then grabs him by the head and snaps him down with a swinging neckbreaker, planting him in the center of the ring. Arroyo rolls into a tight cover.

ONE!

TWO!

Dickie kicks out and rolls away, clutching his neck.

Arroyo tries to stick on him but Dickie trips Kristoffer up with a Drop Toe Hold and Vamp hangs himself on the middle rope the crowd pop as Watson scrambles to his feet and rushes the ropes, swinging around and lands-

JC: MOLOTOV COCKTAIL!

The 619 connects, cracking across Vamp’s jaw and sending him stumbling toward the center of the ring. The crowd surges as Dickie pops up onto the apron, gripping the top rope, lining up the next shot.

Vamp turns, dazed but upright.

Dickie leaps!

He launches into a springboard crossbody, body twisting through the air

But Vamp steps in and catches him out of the air! Arms locking around Dickie’s torso before he can land. The momentum shifts instantly. Vamp plants his feet, hoists Dickie upward, and clamps down around his neck and arm, snapping him into a Standing Cradle Guillotine.

Dickie’s eyes widen as Vamp cinches the hold tight, pulling him in close, squeezing the air out of him. Dickie kicks his legs, trying to find leverage, but Vamp keeps him suspended just enough to make every breath a struggle. Dickie’s hands claw at Vamp’s grip, trying to pry space between his neck and Vamp’s forearm.

Vamp tightens the cradle, leaning back, forcing Dickie to bend awkwardly against him.

Dickie’s knees hit the mat.
Then one foot plants.
Then the other.

He pushes upward, fighting for balance, face red, breath ragged. Vamp adjusts, trying to drag him back down, but Dickie shifts his weight, turning his hips, forcing Vamp to follow.

Dickie suddenly throws his weight backward, rolling them both to the mat. Vamp keeps the choke locked in—until Dickie twists his body and traps Vamp’s shoulders to the canvas in a tight cradle.

ONE!

Vamp’s eyes snap open.

TWO!

He kicks his legs, trying to break the leverage.

TWO AND A HALF—

Vamp powers out, rolling free just before the referee’s hand hits the mat again.

Both men scramble apart, breathing hard, the crowd roaring as the momentum spikes again. Dickie clutches his throat, coughing, while Vamp rises slowly, eyes locked on him, the calm veneer cracked just enough to show the frustration underneath.

Dickie wipes sweat from his brow, chest heaving, while Vamp steadies himself with one hand on his knee, eyes locked on Watson with that cold, unblinking focus. The crowd hums with anticipation as they step toward each other again.
Dickie strikes first—a sharp elbow to the jaw. Vamp answers with a forearm that snaps Dickie’s head to the side. Dickie fires back. Vamp fires harder. The blows come faster, heavier, each one rocking the other but neither man backing down. The crowd swells with every hit.
Dickie breaks the rhythm with a sudden low kick to Vamp’s thigh, then another, then a spinning back kick that forces Vamp to stagger. Dickie hits the ropes, limping slightly but still fast, and rebounds with a running knee—Vamp absorbs it and fires a palm strike into Dickie’s chest that sends him stumbling back.
Dickie recovers first, rushing in with a flurry of strikes—elbow, kick, forearm, knee—driving Vamp toward the ropes. Vamp ducks under a wild swing and snaps a stiff uppercut into Dickie’s ribs, doubling him over. He grabs Dickie by the head and drives him down with a snap DDT, planting him hard.
Vamp rolls to his knees, breathing heavy, shaking out his arms. Dickie pushes up at the same time, clutching his neck, refusing to stay down. They rise together, battered but unbroken.
Dickie lunges in with a jumping knee—Vamp sidesteps and cracks him with a spinning backfist that sends Dickie stumbling into the corner. Vamp charges, but Dickie slips out of the way and Vamp hits the turnbuckles chest‑first. Dickie grabs him from behind and snaps him down with a quick reverse DDT, dropping Vamp flat.
Both men stay down for a moment, chests rising and falling, the crowd roaring as they begin to stir.
Dickie crawls to the ropes, pulling himself upright. Vamp pushes to his knees, shaking the cobwebs loose. They turn toward each other again, both exhausted, both hurting, both refusing to give an inch.
Dickie steps forward.
Vamp steps forward.
They collide in the center of the ring with simultaneous strikes—Dickie’s elbow smashing into Vamp’s jaw at the same moment Vamp’s forearm crashes into Dickie’s cheek. Both men stagger. Both men drop to one knee. Both men fall to the mat, sprawled out, staring up at the lights as the arena erupts.

For a moment, neither man moves.

Just the sound of breathing—ragged, uneven, earned.

Dickie’s chest rises sharply, one arm draped over his ribs, fingers twitching like they’re still trying to find something to grab onto. Across from him, Vamp lies unnaturally still… then slowly turns his head, eyes locking onto Dickie with that same cold, predatory focus—only now it’s cracked by fatigue.

They start to stir at the same time.

Dickie rolls to his side first, dragging himself up with the ropes, his legs unsteady beneath him. His jaw tightens as he forces himself upright, one hand briefly brushing his throat—still feeling the ghost of that guillotine.

Vamp pushes up more deliberately, slower… but controlled. Every movement is precise, economical, even now.

They turn.

They see each other.

And something shifts.

No circling this time.

Dickie explodes forward—pure instinct.

A forearm SMASHES into Vamp’s jaw!

Vamp stumbles—but fires back immediately with a stiff palm strike to the chest that echoes through the arena!

Dickie grits his teeth, fires another elbow—Vamp answers with a brutal low kick to the calf!

Dickie’s leg buckles—

—but he spins through it, corkscrew roundhouse!

Vamp ducks—

—grabs the waist!

German suplex—

NO!

Dickie flips through, lands on his feet—

staggers—

but still fires—SUPERKICK!

Vamp eats it!

Doesn’t go down!

Just… stumbles.

Smiles.

And SLAPS Dickie across the face.

The crowd erupts.

Dickie’s head snaps to the side.

He freezes.

Slowly turns back.

Eyes different now.

He lunges—grabs—tilt-a-whirl—

DDT—

NO!

Vamp blocks it mid-rotation, holding him suspended again—

but Dickie shifts mid-air—POISON RANA!!

Vamp spikes down on his head!

The impact bounces him—he rolls through on instinct—

up to his knees—

Dickie’s already moving—

RUNNING KNEE—

Vamp sidesteps!

Dickie crashes past—

Vamp grabs—GUILLOTINE—

NO!

Dickie slips out the back, shoves him forward—

SPRINGBOARD—

TORNADO DDT—

NO!!

Vamp catches him AGAIN out of the air—

but this time Dickie shifts his weight—

SUNSET FLIP—

POWERBOMB—

STACK!

ONE!!

TWO!!

Vamp kicks out—barely—rolling through—

and both men scramble up—

Dickie charges—

Vamp leaps—knee strike—

Dickie catches the leg!

DRAGON SCREW!

Vamp hits hard, rolling through—

Dickie doesn’t hesitate—

he hits the ropes—

comes back—

RISE TO GLORY—

CURBSTOMP—

NO!!

Vamp collapses forward at the last second—Dickie stomps nothing but canvas!

Dickie stumbles—his bad leg betraying him—

just for a split second—

but it’s enough.

Vamp surges up—

grabs—

STF attempt—

Dickie rolls through!

Kicks him off!

Both men up—

Dickie ducks a strike—

hooks—

MILLENNIAL FALLOUT—

BRIDGING GERMAN—

NO!!

Vamp flips through on impact!

Lands on his feet—

stumbles—

but immediately surges forward—

RUNNING KNEE—

Dickie ducks!

Hooks both arms—

lifts—

NEVER SURRENDER—

NO!!

Vamp wriggles free mid-air—

lands behind—

SHOVES Dickie forward—

Dickie hits ropes—

rebounds—

Vamp charges—

Dickie leaps—

HURRICANRANA—

Vamp blocks!

Powerbomb position—

Dickie punches free—

lands—

spins—

ELBOW!

Vamp staggers—

Dickie sees it—

he sees the opening

He lunges—

hooks—

lifts—

DICKIE’S REVENGE—

—

—but Vamp’s leg snaps up.

His heel snakes around Dickie’s calf.

Locks.

Anchors.

Dickie tries to drop—

can’t.

His base gives out.

Vamp yanks.

Kicks the leg out from under him—

Dickie collapses to a knee—

—and in one fluid, merciless motion—

Vamp wraps the arm.

Slides under.

CINCHES IT IN—

GUILLOTINE.

Deep.

Immediate.

Inescapable.

Dickie’s eyes go wide—hands clawing, body thrashing, trying to find anything—

Vamp doesn’t rush.

He adjusts.

Pulls him closer.

Whispers something inaudible—

then drags him up just enough—

just enough—

and—

plants a kiss.

The crowd gasps—

—and Vamp DROPS—

ROMEO’S LAMENT!!

Dickie spikes into the mat.

Hard.

Violent.

Final.

Vamp rolls through into the cover, still clutching him close.

ONE!!

TWO!!

THREE!!

DING DING DING.

Winner: Kristoffer ‘Vamp’ Arroyo

JC: WOW! That was… that was so mesmerizing… I forgot to talk for huge parts of this match!

JR: I was talking the whole time, but I just realized my mic wasn’t plugged in.

JC: What an absolute war! What an elite-level contest between two of the best, not just in the XWF, but in wrestling today! Both men left everything on the mat, but tonight, Arroyo takes the win!

JC: Well, folks, up next we’re up for what will be one hell of a match.

JR: That’s right, Jackie. These two are some of the hottest competitors in the XWF right now. You have Yelena Gorgo, one of the best known names in the XWF and fresh Television Champion defending for the first time. You have Korvayne, who was involved in a wild fracas last week lining up for a chance at the TV Title, these two are going to collide and it’s going to be explosive!

The house lights die. Instantly. The arena plunges into a total, suffocating B L A C K.

Silence hangs in the dead air—a held breath—before the world DETONATES.

♫ YOUR HEART ♫
♫ IS A HOLE ♫

Violent STROBES shatter the dark—a disorienting, epileptic stutter. Words flash on the video screen in rapid, subliminal bursts.

♫ I CAN SEE FOR MILES AND MILES! ♫
♫ BEYOND THE BLACK RAINBOW! ♫

Color-tinted haze bleeds out across the stage floor. The camera sweeps the crowd, catching the frenetic energy. The arena plunges to black again. The music builds, grinding upward.

♫ EX-IT! ♫

CRIMSON SPOTS bleed onto the stage. Through the thick haze, a silhouette stands motionless. Head down. Shoulders rigid.

The lens pushes in aggressively. She lifts her head.

YELENA GORGO. She wears a nightmare grin—arrogant, cruel, and sexy. Intricate blonde braids pull tight against her scalp, gleaming under the red light, woven with crimson thread that looks like fresh sutures.

♫ INSIDE THE MIDNIGHT YOU'VE BEEN SLITH-ER-ING ♫
♫ YOU FORM THE COLUMN'S … DE-FIC-IEN-CY ♫

Yelena breaks her stance. She doesn't walk; she PROWLS. A confident, hip-swaying swagger that radiates pure, unadulterated narcissism. She locks eyes with the camera lens, acknowledging her own dominance.

♫ I LATCH ON TO YOU … WE … RE-PRESS-UR-IZE ♫
♫ IN-FRA-RED … PAR-A-DISE ♫

The bass drops out. A suspended moment of tension. Yelena stops dead. She stares at nothing, eyes wide, that grin horrifyingly fixed.

The beat DROPS.

♫ UPWARDS! FEEL THE PRE-SSURE! ♫
♫ ABSCESS! HEART IS A HOLE! ♫

A fist slams to her chest—perfectly timed to the percussion—as she mouths the scream.

Desperate hands reach over the barricade during the approach to the ring, but they are ignored. The camera angle drops low, transforming her into a giant against the lights, her focus locked entirely on the canvas.

♫ DISSOLVE! DISPLACE! REJOICE! REPEAT! ♫
♫ NO PRESSURE HERE! ADMIT DEFEAT! ♫

Yelena hits the apron and leaps—terrifying athleticism—landing on the edge. She grabs the top rope and leans back, crouching low into a broken, spider-like pose. Her gaze sweeps the arena like a predator surveying the night's menu.

♫ DISSOLVE! DISPLACE! REJOICE! REPEAT! ♫
♫ NO PRESSURE HERE! TO MEET YOUR SOUL! ♫

She explodes to her feet in the center of the ring. Arms thrown wide. Chest heaving. She screams the lyric to the rafters:

♫ BEYOND THE BLACK RAINBOW! ♫

A scream tears from her throat, directed straight at the rafters. In one fluid motion, she spins, hooks the top rope, and leans back over it—hanging upside down—staring backward at the crowd with that frozen, beautiful, PSYCHOPATHIC grin.

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.

Both women size each other up as the referee holds the Television Championship belt high.

15:00

JC: Here we go, fifteen minute time limit, the Television Title on the line!

JR: This one is going to rock San Fran tonight!

Both competitors lock up!

Gorgo sets in a hammerlock!

Korvayne counters into an armwrench!

Gorgo counters into a top wristlock!

Korvayne counters into a hammerlock!

A back elbow from Gorgo.

Another back elbow from Gorgo, and she backs into the ropes!

Korvayne releases the hold, and Gorgo shoots to the other side of the ring!

Gorgo hits the ropes as Korvayne charges!

Gorgo leapfrogs!

Korvayne keeps towards the ropes, and Gorgo matches momentum into the opposite ropes!

Both women with shoulder blocks, parrying one another!

Gorgo with a drop toe hold!

Gorgo rolls into a headlock!

Both competitors climb to their feet!

Korvayne with a forearm to the small of Gorgo’s back!

Korvayne lifts Gorgo, going for a back drop suplex!

Gorgo shifts momentum midair by twisting her legs!

Gorgo back on a vertical base and planted, transitioning the headlock into a hammerlock!

Korvayne with a snapmare, and she shoots off the ropes and back at the seated Gorgo!

Korvayne throws a knee, but Gorgo lies back!

Gorgo kips up, back heel kick to Korvayne!

Korvayne catches the boot, and spins Gorgo!

Gorgo turns with a forearm as Korvayne throws one of her own!

Stereo forearm shots, and both competitors back away, holding their jaws!

The crowd is into it!

*XWF!*XWF!*XWF!*XWF!*

JC: These women came to the ring having scouted each other very well it seems!

JR: You’re right, Jackie, and they’re just getting started!

Both women clash and begin throwing rapid fire forearm shots to one another!

13:43…

13:42…

13:41…

Gorgo with a big knee to Korvayne, and she follows up with a bridging Northern Lights Suplex!

1…

2…

Korvayne gets a shoulder up, but Gorgo lithely flips over Korvayne and lifts her for a second Northern Lights! She bridges!

1…

2…

Korvayne gets a shoulder up again, and Gorgo pivots and sinches in a Dragon Sleeper!

The referee checks on Korvayne as she struggles in the hold!

JC: Yelena Gorgo is pressing an advantage here, let’s see if she can close it out.

JR: The champion’s advantage is the time limit, the size advantage is definitely Gorgo’s!

11:38

11:37

11:36

Korvayne has lasted in this Dragon Sleeper for some time, and fights to her feet!

A back elbow to Gorgo, who releases the hold!

Korvayne turns and throws a forearm!

Gorgo ducks, and grabs Korvayne for a Snap Dragon Suplex!

Korvayne flips out of the suplex!

Korvayne lands a standing dropkick!

To her feet, she’s off the ropes and hits a running dropkick!

She scrambles, criss-crosses the ropes, and springboards, hitting a springboard dropkick!

Gorgo stumbles as Korvayne rushes the corner, and she soars for a missile dropkick from the top!

Gorgo walks calmly out of the way, cackling with psychotic glee as Korvayne hits the mat flat on her back.

Gorgo leans on the ropes, sneering.

JC: Gorgo is just killing time now!

JR: She thinks Korvayne is a joke, no respect for her opponent!

10:22

10:21

10:20

Gorgo slowly turns back to her opponent.

Korvayne slowly gets to her feet.

Gorgo steps in, and sets to throw basic judo and karate strikes!

Korvayne with a thumb to the eye of Yelena Gorgo!

The referee admonishes Korvayne!

Korvayne with the small package to follow up the sneaky shot!

1…

2…

Gorgo kicks out, but rolls over, grasping her eye!

Korvayne to her feet, and she nails Gorgo in the spine with a soccer kick!

Korvayne off the ropes to the seated Gorgo!

Handspring from Korvayne into a headscissors!

Korvayne twists midair, sending Gorgo back with a headscissors neckbreaker!

JR: WOAH!

JC: Insane agility shown by Korvayne there!

Korvayne stands, scoffing at Gorgo now!

JC: Korvayne doesn’t have time to waste!

8:59

8:58

8:57

Korvayne once again to the top rope, and she’s off with a huge flying body splash!

Korvayne lands with full impact and stays for the pin!

1…

2…

Gorgo gets a shoulder up at the last minute!

Korvayne to her feet, and she throws a stomp to Gorgo’s right leg!

Korvayne with another stomp to Gorgo’s right leg!

Korvayne continues to throw surgical strike stomps, now one to Gorgo’s left knee!

JC: I don’t like what is going on here!

JR: Neither does Gorgo!

Korvayne grabs the soles of Gorgo’s feet, and sets a leg in to go for the Birth of Venus!

NO!

Gorgo with a heel to Korvayne’s chest!

Gorgo to her knees, and Korvayne throws a standing side kick to Gorgo!

Gorgo catches the leg, and counters with an exploder suplex!

Korvayne is thrown directly into the referee, wiping them out!

7:45

7:44

7:43

Gorgo sees Korvayne ripe for the attack.

Gorgo grasps Korvayne’s shoulder, and sets in the Black Rainbow!

Korvayne’s arm and elbow are being contorted in ways the human body is not supposed to!

Korvayne taps!

The referee is still out!

There’s nobody to call the submission!

Gorgo, infuriated the match hasn’t ended, somehow applies even more pressure!

In doing so she gives up leverage!

Korvayne gets her legs under the ropes!

The referee slowly gets up, and as they rise Korvayne gets a foot bridged across the bottom rope!

The referee breaks the hold!

Gorgo stands, triumphant, thinking she’s won the match!

The referee corrects her!

Gorgo is incensed!

She turns to Korvayne, looking to go for more, as Korvayne is on a knee!

Korvayne with a low blow to Gorgo!

Gorgo looks confused.

The referee also looks very confused.

7:08

7:07

7:06

Korvayne looks up at Gorgo, then around at the crowd.

Korvayne throws another low blow.

Nothing really happens.

JC: Well, uh, sometimes that works.

JR: I, well, um, I don’t remember it not working, but then again I don’t think most people try to punch women in the balls all that often, Jackie.

Gorgo with a palm strike to Korvayne!

NO!

It was a ruse from Korvayne!

She blocks the palm strike, and stands, delivering a scoop slam to Gorgo!

Korvayne rounds the fallen body of Gorgo, and sets in the Birth of Venus!

Gorgo snarls at Korvayne, swiping at her!

Korvayne rears back, out of Gorgo’s reach!

The referee checks the hold!

Gorgo taps out!

WINNER, AND NEW TELEVISION CHAMPION:
KORVAYNE

Korvayne brings herself to her feet in the ring. Her simp, overjoyed by what he just witnessed, grasps the Television Championship belt, and enters the ring. He approaches to place the belt on Korvayne, but she snatches it from him, instead insisting the referee place it on her!

JC: She did it, she won the TV Title here tonight!

JR: Now the real battle begins, defending has always been tougher than winning when it comes to championships in the XWF.

As the belt is placed on Korvayne, the lights dim, and a spotlight shines on her.

JC: Now this is unnecessary, how did Korvayne get the crew to shine the light on her like this.

The light turns blood red. Korvayne looks around confusedly. On the Xtron, we see that backstage, Chadsworth has been laid out. Korvayne looks at what she sees.

JC: Oh Christ.

JR: God has nothing to do with this.

“You’re Dead” blares throughout the arena as the lights come up. Korvayne looks around as the fans in San Fransisco explode. At just the time when the lyrics hit, the crowd sings along.

“YOU’RE DEAD, YOU’RE DEAD, YOU’RE DEAD! YOU’RE DEAD AND OUT OF THIS WORLD!”

As her simp looks around in terror, Korvayne takes in the reaction of the crowd.

JC: Does she know what’s coming?

JR: I don’t know, if I were her I’d be getting as far from the ring as possible.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere, Bobby Bourbon deftly slides into the ring, and quickly gets to his feet. The crowd sings along to the song as Bobby cracks his neck, then his knuckles.

“STAY DEAD, STAY DEAD, STAY DEAD! STAY DEAD AND OUT OF THIS WORLD!”

The music subsides. The crowd, energized by the surprise appearance of Bourbon, roar, then begin to chant.

“BOBBY’S GONNA KILL YOU!”

“BOBBY’S GONNA KILL YOU!”

“BOBBY’S GONNA KILL YOU!”

Korvayne is standing in a corner as the Simp glances back at her. He turns and approaches Bobby, pointing at him, clearly shaking as he does. Bobby cocks an eyebrow at him.

JC: That Simp is willing to die for Korvayne.

JR: He’s proving it tonight!

Bobby shakes his head at the Simp. He points at Korvayne. The crowd goes ballistic as he does. The Simp begins waging one of his overly chubby digits at Bobby as Bobby steps towards the ropes nearest the huge Warfare entrance set. Bobby opens the ropes and gestures for the Simp to leave. The Simp looks back at Korvayne with a demeanor of utter confusion. He turns back to Bobby, swiftly shaking his head now and shouting at Bobby. Bobby casually steps away from the ropes and towards the simp.

SHORYUKEN!!

Bobby belts the Simp with a massive uppercut, sending him reeling back into the opposite ropes! The Simp stumbles back groggily towards Bobby, and is caught by the throat! Bobby hoists the massive Simp with ease, and carries him towards the ropes. Huge chokeslam on the Simp to the outside of the ring, where he lands with a sickening splat. Bobby takes a long, slow breath, then turns to Korvayne.

JC: THE SIMP HAS BEEN DUMPED LIKE HE’D ACTUALLY HAD A GIRLFRIEND!

JR: That’s, wow, on the nose and mean, but yeah, Bourbon just treated that very heavy man like he was a toy!

Bobby slightly smirks as he looks at Korvayne. He reaches into the pocket of his highly sequinned and garish jacket and pulls out his signature microphone, the microphone of a Sith Lord.

“So, now that we’re alone, ish.”

Bobby wavers his hand in front of him, then gestures out to the crowd. They begin chanting.

“FUCK ‘EM UP BOBBY, FUCK ‘EM UP!”*STOMP STOMP*“FUCK ‘EM UP BOBBY, FUCK ‘EM UP!”*STOMP STOMP*“FUCK ‘EM UP BOBBY, FUCK ‘EM UP!”*STOMP STOMP*

Bobby turns his hand over, spreading his fingers, shaking them gently, as if he’s letting all of San Francisco cascade out of the palm of his hands.

“Congrats there, Champ. You’ve demanded your way all the way to the Television Championship. Now, I get it if you have some trepidation and all, considering my considerable reputation and the fact I just turned not one but two of your lackeys into chew toys, but hear me out. The fact you want to take down the shameless pretenders calling themselves BoB these days, I gotta say girlie, I like you, or at least I want to. You’re forcing your will and making all of wrestling react to you, straight out of my playbook. The thing is, though, this whole Universe, well, they kind of want me to come out here and destroy you.”

The crowd roars. Bobby points to the Simp, still on the outside, now being attended to by a medic.

“That thing called you a Queen. Not going to lie, I don’t see anything regal in front of me, I don’t see a throne, no scepter, and you just got your crown, princess. Princess of all Television. Does that cover streaming services, by the way, do you even know? Do I have to call a cable or satellite provider? Are you on those free channels you can still get by digital antenna? I digress. I really only have one thing to say to you, Julia.”

Bobby approaches Korvayne and leans in, whispering in her ear. As he does, Korvayne’s eyes widen.

JC: What is he telling her?

JR: Bobby Bourbon is telling Korvayne something in private, but in front of everyone, since when does Bourbon use discretion? What is developing in front of us?

Bobby leans away, and with a pleasant smile, looks at Korvayne and nods his head briskly.

Korvayne is still wide eyed.

Bobby turns as if to walk away…

THUMP!

Bobby pivots 180 and brains Korvayne with his microphone! Korvayne recoils into the corner, and Bobby drops the mic. Bobby rushes Korvayne and crashes into her with a huge avalanche press. He grabs her by the head and tosses her out of the ring, onto the medic looking after the Simp!

JC: This is assault and battery!

JR: This Warfare, Jackie!

JC: THEN THIS IS A WAR CRIME!

Bobby deftly steps through the ropes and hops to the floor of the Chase Center. He reaches under the ring and pulls out an axe handle. He holds it high, and the crowd again roars at the wholesale violence Bobby is bringing to the ring. He brings the axe handle crashing down onto Korvayne’s back, causing her to recoil. Bobby threatens the medic, who runs off, and Bobby brings the axe handle down again, cracking the Simp right in the ribs! Bobby reaches into the ring and grabs his microphone with his left hand, holding the axe handle with his right. He points the axe handle at the Simp, and looks at Korvayne.

“That thing called you a Queen. Pay fucking attention!”

Bobby cracks Korvayne again with the axe handle as she’s on the ground, helpless, the Television Title still around her waist.

“That thing called you a Queen, and that thing doesn’t represent any fraction of my universe, do you understand? A Queen is just a King under a different title, it’s a sign of fealty!”

Bobby cracks Korvayne with the axe handle.

“A Queen is just a King who gets called beautiful or else!”

Bobby brings the axe handle down on Korvayne again. He tosses the axe handle into the ring, and his eyes seem excited by what he sees in the ring itself. He picks Kovayne up with his massive right hand, still holding the microphone.

“A Queen is just a King, and they mean nothing to a barbarian conqueror of all the realms, a mean sumbitch who slaughters for fun and gives blood and bone to the masses, chicken fucking soup for the Xtreme soul.”

Bobby slams Korvayne’s head into the ring apron. He does it again. Then again.

He does it a fourth time. Korvayne is nearly limp in his grasp.

JC: Korvayne is getting decimated by someone more than twice her size!

JR: Korvayne is getting treated like many XWF Veterans throughout the years, getting turned into hamburger by Bobby Bourbon!

Bobby rolls Korvayne into the ring. Her chest heaves with stilted breaths after the severe beating she’s received. Bobby rolls back into the ring and picks up the axe handle again, bringing it down on Korvayne’s ribs. As he does, it finally snaps and breaks in half. Bobby rolls the broken end of the axe handle off his fingers like a Major League Baseball slugger who just his a walkoff, still looking intently at Korvayne. He again hoists her up, grasping at her throat. He again raises his microphone, the microphone of a Sith Lord, to his lips.

“A Queen is just a King, and welcome to San Francisco. On behalf of the entire Xtreme Wrestling Federation…

No Kings.”

Bobby drops the microphone, and tosses the much smaller Korvayne onto his shoulder facing backwards for a pop-up powerbomb. The crowd starts chanting.

“NO KINGS, NO CROWNS, THE PEOPLE WON’T BACK DOWN!”

“NO KINGS, NO CROWNS, THE PEOPLE WON’T BACK DOWN!”

“NO KINGS, NO CROWNS, THE PEOPLE WON’T BACK DOWN!”

Bobby turns towards the opposite ropes, and rushes them!

BOBBYBOMB ONTO KORVAYNE INTO THE 5TH ROW!

JUNE 21ST 2026.

CELEBRATE FATHER’S DAY WITH BRUNCH!

GLOBAL CULINARY CHALLENGE BRUNCH!

CELEBRATE…

AMERICA’S DAD!

In the arena, we see a team of medics backstage with Korvayne.

JC: Folks, we just got word, Korvayne is actually responsive after what happened just moments ago.

JR: What happened to her, Jackie, wasn’t just a natural disaster, those quakes we felt here tonight were impact tremors courtesy of Bobby Bourbon.

The camera switches to the backstage area once more before the main event begins. The locker room shown is the same one where Betsy Granger and Remi Storm had conversed earlier. Now our Impossible Traveler is joined by Sebastian Everett-Bryce, who is sitting on the bench with her. They face each other, foreheads touching, hands clasped; for the moment, no words pass between them, just eye contact and a peaceful silence. Though he’s not on the card, there was no way Seb wouldn’t be there to support Betsy on what was easily the biggest night of her career.

Seb: Are you ready for this, Danger?

Nibbling on her lower lip, she nods, though her green eyes betray the nerves building up.

Betsy: As ready as I’ll ever be…

Her voice shakes, causing Seb to pull his head away so he could look fully at her. Freeing one of his hands, he takes her chin in his fingers and keeps her eyes on his.

Seb: You’re about to compete for the Universal Title, B… I need you to answer like it.

Her eyes widen slightly at the firmness in his tone that matched the stern look on his face. Her breath hitches as he draws her face nearer to his.

Seb: Are you ready for this?

This time, Betsy feels her heart leap with a confidence that had eluded her the entire day. Her eyes dance as a determined smile crosses her lips.

Betsy: Fuck yeah, I’m ready for this… But-

Her voice shook again, this time with anticipation as well as nerves. Seb cuts her off with a finger to the lips.

Seb: No. Nope. The first thought - you hold on to that first thought, Danger. You grip it in both hands like it's… well… you know. You hold onto it, and you don’t let it go. You’re ready. You’ve been ready. You’ve been waiting for this… This moment. This exact moment is what everything you’ve done in your career has been building to. The second you say “but” everything else you said before it is just lip service. So let me ask you one… last… Time. Are you fucking ready for this, Betsy Granger?

Removing his finger, he stares at her with intense expectancy. A million thoughts explode through her mind as she begins to truly feel the weight of the opportunity ahead of her. All the faces through the years that had seen her to this moment… Touching her forehead to his, she nods decisively, a genuine smile spreading across her lips now.

Betsy I’m bringing that title home with me tonight.

Seb nods approvingly.

Seb: And we make Leap of Fight our main event.

Their lips meet in a brief, yet intense kiss before Betsy turns on her heels and marches out of the locker room towards the gorilla position. She stops short, and Seb, who had followed, hugs her from behind one more time, planting a kiss on the top of her head. A commercial airs as the crew scrambles to get every detail right for the main event…

JC: Ladies and gentleman, welcome back to XWF Warfare!

Up next?

Our main event of the evening!

JR: Man, two of the biggest names in our industry, the Universal Championship on the line? We’re in for a real treat tonight!

JC: Two of the biggest names, indeed, each representing their own corners of these growing factions in XWF. For Betsy Granger, it’s her alliance with The Exiles, and for the champion, Scoops McGee of course, it’s the House of Hardcore.

JR: Scoops and Betsy are both loved by the XWF Universe, Jack. But perhaps these faction wars have poisoned their collective well, because tonight’s stipulation doesn’t sound like anything that two people who respect one another should participate in.

JC: A Texas Deathmatch…

JR: Yeah. That.

JC: The rules are simple..

JR: Are they?

JC: Yes. There are no countouts. No submissions. No disqualifications. The only way to win is to pin your opponent for a three-count, and then, your opponent must not be able to respond to a ten-count.

JR: Hm… ok… why not just make it a thirteen-count pinfall?

JC: Because that’s not the rule! You have to give your opponent the opportunity to get back to their feet.

JR: Simple.

“Now, who’s ready to be baptized into a new era of entertainment?!”

The lights go out in the arena as the voice calls out its query. A moment later, bright, twinkling lights like stars scatter across the building.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day
You gotta climb a little higher,
To the top of the display,
Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

The starlight intensifies as a figure rises from beneath the platform, her back to the crowd, head down. The song continues to echo throughout the arena, electric and intense. Her blonde hair is tied into a tight shark-braid that swings back and forth as she bounces from foot to foot.

“If you want it, just take it,
The world's yours, don’t waste it,
Go make the stars align, to shine-”

The rising platform levels to the arena floor in unison with the beat drop to the song.

“BRIGHTER!”

As the word echoes through the arena, an explosion of sparkling pyrotechnics go off as Betsy Granger throws out her arms, revealing a blue chiffon robe lit with bright stars.

“Brighter than the heavens in the skies above,
(oooh oooh)
You’ll be,
BRIGHTER!"

Twirling gracefully to face the crowd, she points skyward as the lights in the arena flood back on. Betsy bounces twice before half-running, half-skipping down the ramp towards the ring.

JC: And here comes the challenger!!!

JR: Betsy Granger said she knew from the moment she took her first bump in a professional wrestling ring, that she wanted nothing more than to be in the XWF, to be a professional wrestler to someday be… Universal Champion.

JC: And tonight she steps from behind those curtains as more than the Impossible Traveler, as more than The Revolution Champion… she makes her way to the ring as BETSY GRANGER!

"Going supernova, all the eyes look up
(at you, at you)
BRIGHTER!”

The song switches to an instrumental break as she does one complete circuit around the ring. Throwing off her cape on the announcer's table, she dashes towards the ring and jumps onto the apron in a one clean move. Using her momentum, she bounces clean over the top rope and spins on her toes to the center of the ring, arms out wide. As she comes to a stop, the music swells, and the crowd joins in like a devoted choir, just the same as the song itself.

“BRIIIIIIIIIGHTEEEEERRRRRRR”

Betsy grins widely and bounces from foot to foot, ready for the fight.

The show is quickly interrupted by the sound of a distant synthesizer, followed up by horses neighing and galloping through the dirt. It fades out, leading into the riff of a guitar strumming a fiery tune. There's an inherent electricity building within the air of the arena, culminating as the drums kick in.

As they do, the steadfast figure of Scoops McGee comes out from the back, a look of no nonsense etched onto his face as he takes a long look at the crowd and the squared circle.

JC: And now, the Universal Champion!

JR: Look, Jack. I know we were talking about Scoops and Betsy as two people who have respect for one another, but let's get one thing clear… Scoops McGee’s respect only lasts from bell-to-bell! He said if Betsy isn’t on her game, that he’s going to kill her!

JC: Scoops McGee is from a different era, Joe. Not that Betsy Granger doesn’t respect that mat as much as Scoops. But Scoops respects it in a different way. In the era Scoops fought his way through, these matches WERE life and death. The long road to winning the Universal Championship and wearing that crown has been paved with unthinkable violence and cruelty along the way for Scoops McGee. Scoops is willing to die every time he steps through those ropes, because that’s what wrestling has always been for him. Life and death.

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

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

The official stands between the two, going over expectations for this match…

JC: The air is electric right now, between these two! A punch hasn’t been thrown and the crowd is already itching in their seats, ready to climb to their feet…

The official nods to Betsy, verifying she understands the rules. Scoops smiles back gruffly, he’s been around long enough that he knows the sc-

&list=RDatuFSv2bLa

XWF Co-Owner Elon Musk emerges from the back!

THE CROWD RAINS DOWN BOOS!

JC: Oh man! The XWF crowds already don’t love Elon Musk! But now he’s actively keeping them from starting this match!

JR: There might literally be a murder if Elon doesn’t make this quick!

Elon waves apologetically to the crowd.

Elon Musk: Yes, yes, I’m so sorry that you had to wait this long in the show to see me!

JC: That’s not what they’re mad about at all!

Elon Musk: But this isn’t about me! This is about the competitors in that ring!

Elon directs the crowd’s attention toward the ring with a gesture.

Elon Musk: This is about giving a match of this caliber! Of this… historicity! Its proper notice!

JC: Historicity?

JR: It’s a word, Jacuinde!

Elon Musk: And in that spirit, I’m proud to announce that this is the first…

…

Elon Musk: And potentially last match…

The crowd murmurs with curiosity and intrigue…

Elon Musk: Of the SCOOPS MCGEE PRE-MEMORIAL RETIREMENT TOUR!

Elon claps his hands and the XWF security team unfurls a banner…

I-hate-Scoops-Mc-Gee-and-hope-he-dies-signed-Elon-Musk

Elon Musk: ”Brought to you by Charleston Chew! The elderly’s favorite pocket candy!”

THE CROWD RAINS DOWN BOOS!

JC: What a disgusting lack of respect for Scoops McGee from Elon Musk!

JR: And what an absolutely devastating branding miss for Werther’s Originals! Someone in their marketing department is getting fired for not locking down that sponsorship deal!

Betsy glances up the ramp, before turning back to Scoops, shaking her head, trying to make it clear before the match she had nothing to do with this show of disrespect…

Scoops nods, rolling his eyes… He knows exactly who was the idiot behind this.

Elon Musk straightens the bow tie over his tuxedo t-shirt before waving at the ring!

Elon Musk: Now… commence with the match!

XWF Universal Championship
Scoops McGee©
- vs -
Betsy Granger
Texas Deathmatch

A competitor must first pin their opponent and then ensure they fail to respond to a 10-count to win.

The ref holds Scoops’ Big Gold Belt up, and promptly hands it over to the timekeeper.

DING DING DING

The match begins and the air between Betsy and Scoop’s corners is thrust away.

Scoops and Betsy meet in the center of the ring and lock collars. Betsy plants her leg behind her, and flexes her quads, trying to bend Scoops into her.

But Scoops’ height and weight advantage prove otherwise. He pushes Betsy back, who is staying on her feet. Scoops keeps her tied at the elbow and collar as he shoves her back into the corner.

Betsy falls back awkwardly, her head thrashing into the top turnbuckle pad as Scoops breaks the hold and….

CHOP

That Betsy narrowly dodges!

Scoops’ hand chops into the turnbuckle pad, partially removing it from the steel rope bolt.

While he grimaces and holding his hand from the impact, Betsy maneuvers around him…

Low karate kick to the back of the knee!

Scoops buckles forward, and Betsy begins lifting his legs from behind, shooting Scoops into the corner. She has his legs off the ground, pushes his shoulders up into the turnbuckle, then drops him.

Kick to the knee again!

And again!

Scoops tries turning around to fend her off, but Betsy is razor sharp and relentless.

She's sending more kicks to the ribs and now the shin as he turns around.

Scoops is holding his arms out, trying to push her away, but Betsy gets low and rams forward with her shoulder, right into Scoops’ sternum. He’s thrust back into the corner, where Betsy refuses to let up. She grabs hold of Scoops’ wrist and cinches in a lock, twisting her body around, and stepping through the ropes, she spins around again and

JC: OH! THAT SPINNING WRISTLOCK THROUGH THE ROPES THERE, JOE!

JR: You see Scoops’ arm? His bicep being split in half by that middle rope while Betsy lays on the apron twisting his wrist!

JC: That looks painful, and it looks like that right out of the gate, Betsy Granger is showing that she knows exactly what this match is about. A move like this would not be permitted in a standard match, and the savvy young veteran herself makes quick work of the Universal Champion here.

JR: That's the thing though, Jack. Betsy, the submission specialist that she is, she’s not going to be able to submit Scoops tonight, she has to get creative. She’s got to make those submission take more of a toll than usual, and bring Scoops to a point where he can no longer continue.

Betsy keeps that Armwringer locked in, wringing Scoops’ arm along that middle rope as she grunts and twists and wrenches. Scoops is on his knees on the other side of the ropes, growling out and pounding the mat with his free arm. He bites through enough of the pain, steadies himself on his knees, and swings his free arm through the ropes with a haymaker. It doesn’t land clean, but it hits Betsy’s shoulder. Jarring her a bit. Scoops swings again, and hits shoulder again, and though Betsy still twuists through with her lock, shes off balance…

ANOTHER HAYMAKER!

Forces Betsy to break the hold entirely

Scoops pulls his arm through the ropes, clutching it like a new born baby as he stumbles backward into the ring.

After rolling to the floor for a moment to gether herself, Betsy pulls back onto the apron and - - -

RIGHT-ARM CATTLEPROD!

IS DODGED!

BETSY DUCKS THROUGH THE MIDDLE ROPES - - - USING HER SHOULDER AGAIN!

SCOOPS SUCKS WIND AND DRAPES OVER THE TOP ROPE!

BUT CLOBBERS BETSY OVER HER BACK IN THE SAME MOTION!

Scoops gathers and grabs a handful of Betsy’s hair as she writhes, and he whips down off her feet to the ring apron, head first.

THUD

Betsy’s head bounces, and she immediately covers it up, groaning in pain. Her legs partly kicking through the ropes, the rest of her body precariously laid out on the apron. Scoops is still trying to recover. Partly holding himself up on the top rope. His face still shows the effects of Betsy’s opening onslaught. He starts limping to the turnbuckle, still favoring his arm. He climbs up to the second rope and steps through, positioning his rear on the top post and aiming toward the outside. Right below him is Betsy’s head, and with her arms tucked around her skull, she hasn’t noticed the

DIVING LEG DROP FROM THE SECOND ROPE TO THE OUTSIDE!!!!

THAT MISSES!!!!!!

Scoops lands tailbone first on the apron as Betsy accidentally rolled out of the way and back into the ring,

Scoops sits there on the apron. Frozen like a statue of a legdrop and howling out in pain.

Betsy’s eyes go wide as she gets to her knees, noticing what happened.

She stands and darts across the ring.

Then runs back at Scoops full speed - - - Sliding kick through the ropes, right to Scoops head!

Scoops tumbles to the arena floor in a heap.

Betsy clears the ropes and stands on the apron above Scoops, she leaps off with a diving knee that catches Scoops over the back of the neck, getting a roar from the crowd.

The ref follows them both out to the floor and checks on them.

As both competitors are down on the floor, on-screen, a smiling Scoops McGee appears in front of a Charleston Chew logo.

GET YOUR COMMEMORATIVE SCOOPS - vs - FATHER TIME T-SHIRTS! AVAILABLE AT THE XWF SHOPZONE!

JC: Get that the hell off the screen!

JR: Or at least put it back on in a few minutes so I have time to buy one before they sell out!

Betsy begins to limp up and move over to Scoops who is struggling to pull up to his arms. Betsy sends a stomp to Scoops’ neck, flattening him again. She then twists the arm she was working earlier around her calf, cinches it back and claws over scoops while keeping that bad arm secure woith her leg. She grabs the back of Scoops legs and applies a clover leaf!!!!

JC: Betsy Granger has Scoops twisted up like a pretzel right now, Joe!

JR: Scoops said he was going to welcome Betsy to hell tonight, and right now she seems to be withstanding the heat!

Scoops is again howling out in agony. His quads and lower back being stretched down into added weight on that injured arm. Betsy has the hold locked tight, but Scoops is desperate. He’s using all of the strength he has to power up on his free arm. Doing whatever he can to pull himself forward across the floor. But the more Scoops pulls, the harder Betsy sits back, powering a knee into Scoops tail, and tightening her leg into Scoops’ arm.

But he pulls, and howls, and pulls and drags, all across the floor.

Then he twists, and Betsy folds just ever so slightly. He flips himself over. Bringing his legs forward just as he moves his back in the opposite direction and FLINGS BETSY FORWARD!

THE BACK OF HER HEAD SMASHING INTO THE STEEL RING STEPS!

JC: My god, Joe! Did you see that counter from Scoops! He may have just knocked Betsy out cold!

JR: But at what cost, Jack? Did you see the way Sccops arm had to bend to move himself in that position??? I thought it was going to snap his forearm![

JC: It nearly did!

Betsy is knocked out, laying slumped into the partially dislodged steel steps. But Scoops may be even worse for the ware. He’s rolling around on the floor, coddling that badly damaged arm and trying to find the will to recover. Finally a few agonizing breaths, he makes his way to one knee.

He looks over at Betsy, a scowl growing on his face.

He limps toward her, reaching down with his good arm, and dragging her up by the wrist. She starts to come to as Scoops gets her to his feet, but it’s already too late. He whips her with all of his might away from the steps…. BUT DOESNT LET GO!

HE WHIPS HER BACK AGAIN AND SENDS HER RUNNING AT FULL SPEED INTO THE STEPS!
CRASH!

The steps explode and Betsy is laid out.

Scoops dives on her for the pin!

1!

2!!

BETSY KICKS OUT!

JC: My goodness, what a timely kickout that was! If this gives you any kind of indication of the fight that still awaits tonight Joe, after all of that Scoops wasn’t even able to check the first box in this Texas Deathmatch yet!

Scoops leans over Betsy, panting heavily and looking at the ref with disbelief in his eyes.

But he knows he doesn’t have time to wollow. Scoops stands and limps a few feet away from Betsy. He leans over and starts… grabbing at the arena floor?

JR: He’s tearing up the floor padding, Jack!

JC: No no no… this is not going to end well!

Scoops rips and tears, and pulls back the padding from the floor, exposing the concrete underneath.

He limps back to Betsy who is only just showing signs of life.

He drags her over to the exposed concrete and looks like he’s about to- - -

JC: Oh no. No. He’s going to - - -

JR: He’s going to piledrive her on the floor, Jack. There’s no coming back from-

JC: BUT WAIT! BETSY’S FIGHTING BACK! A RIGHT PUNCH! A RIGHT KICK TO THE RIBS BETSY’S FIGHTING BACK AND I DON’T BELIEVE IT!

She kicks at the ribs again, and Scoops accidentally moves to block it with his bad arm. The toe of her boot catching him right in the softened elbow joint.

Scoops howls

Betsy kicks again!

BUT SCOOPS FIGHTS THROUGH THE PAIN AND CATCHES HER LEG.

HE LIFTS

HE GRABS

HE SPINS

JC: SIDEWALK SLAM ONTO THE CONTRETE!!!

Scoops covers!

1!

2!!

3!!!

The ref jumps up and signals to the time keeper.

1!

2!!

JC: Now that Scoops has pinned Betsy, he has to make sure she cannot recover. She must stay down for an additional ten-count!

3!!!

Scoops drags himself back to the steel steps, and grabs the top piece

4!!!!

AAAHHH!!!

But immediately drops it as his arm has taken too much damage for him to lift it properly. He swings at his arm, trying to get it straightened out, but it’s no use right now.

5!!!!!

He has to drag the top part of the steps with one arm. And this time lift it more cautiously.

JC: He’s going to cover Betsy with those steps!

JR: He’s gotta make sure she can’t get up!

6!!!!!!

KICK!

Betsy raises her leg just in time and kneecaps Scoops!

He drops the steps again, this time they clang against the concrete floor. And Betsy leaps up, kicking in the head now!

Scoops falls back into the barricade, while the exasperated Betsy leans against the apron, catching her breath.

Her chest heaving, she eyes Scoops looking vulnerable and takes her shot. A running one legged dropkick sends the Universal Champion spilling over the barricade and into the laps of the fans at ringside. Betsy climbs up on the barricade, she’s about to leap off with another knee drop

BUT A CATTLEPROD MID-AIR CATCHES HER!!!
Betsy flattens and lands spine-first along the barricade. Scoops now climbs up there to gather her up. He stands beside her after she's lifted to her feet. Scoops shouts at the crowd, signaling for the end.

JC: Oh my god, Joe. He’s got Betsy in position for The Big Scoop!

JR: He’s going to drive her from the barricade onto the floor!

HE’S GOT HER UP AND

THE

BIG

SCOO— – –NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

BETSY SHIFTS HER WEIGHT!

AND THE TWO OF THEM FALL OFF THE BARRICADE TOGETHER AND BACK INTO THE CROWD, LANDING AWKWARDLY ON SOME CHAIRS

Scoops tries crawling on Betsy, throwing a forearm at her face. Betsy partially blocks it from her back, covering up and sending kicks at Scoops. One kick, so stiff, it catches him right in the gut, and the champ immediately doubles over, sucking wind. Betsy scrambles up to her feet, grabbing a chair on the way up. She sizes Scoops up and cracks the chair right over his spine, sending him falling back over the barricade to ringside.

Betsy climbs the barricade again, this time with the chair tucked under her arm, but still catching her breath… waiting for Scoops to get back to his feet.

She mirrors him. Just as Scoops rises back to his feet, Betsy slowly moves up from a crouched position. She lets out a sharp whistle in direction of the champion getting his attention

“HEADS UP!”

She throws the chair at Scoops, who instinctively catches it ….

DIVING DROPKICK FROM THE BARRICADE!!!!
The kick blasts the chair into Scoops’ face, and lays him out cold on the floor.

Betsy took a lot of damage from the fall herself, but the sounds of the roaring crowd are keeping her stirred. She crawls ontop of the champion for the cover…

1!

2!!

3!!!

JC: IF THIS WERE A NORMAL MATCH, BETSY GRANGER WOULD’VE JUST WON THE UNIVERSAL CHAMPIONSHIP…

JR: Pump the brakes, Jack. If this were a normal match they both would’ve been disqualified.

The ref signals for the time keeper and begins his 10 count

1!

2!!

3!!!

Rather than try to keep Scoops down longer, Betsy slides back into the ring and begins to ready herself for another wave.

4!!!!

5!!!!!

Which might’ve been a smart move, because Scoops is already up, granted falling around and using the apron to steady himself, but up none the less.

JC: That was a big move by Betsy there, but I think she knew it wasn’t going to be enough to keep Scoops down for a 13 count. She’s in her comfort zone between those ropes, and is going to look to finish Scoops off there.

JR: Not a bad strategy. I mean just look at Scoops. Betsy has clearly left her mark on the man already… he can barely use that big left-arm of his.

Scoops shakes away the cobwebs and looks through the ropes. Betsy and him locking eyes from across the ring. The challenger raises her hands and motions for the champ to come get some!

He obliges her.

Scoops rolls into the ring, and the challenger pounces. She leaps in the air and lands knees first into Scoops’ back, lifting up his bad arm and locking in a half-nelson. Scoops is screaming out in pain, his forehead appearing to be busted open from that chair dropkick earlier.

Lying next to the ropes he swings his free arm around desperately swatting the air, grabbing for something, anything to help him. Finally he grabs the ropes and out of pure will-power, he forces his way up to a single knee, though Betsy still has the hold locked in, it’s slipping.

Her first knee is forced to move from his back, and to a standing position. Then the second knee is forced to move as Scoops is up to his feet now.

But Betsy still has that half-nelson cinched in from behind. Scoops swings the elbow of his free arm back. It clips Betsy, but still she holds on. Scoops swings again, this time blasting Betsy right in the nose. Her eyes puff, and blood immediately gushes from her nostrils.

Scoops fresh himself, he turns, and spins for a wild-looking DISCUS CATTLEPROD!!!!

THAT BETSY COUNTERS!!

SHE SPINS BEHIND THE CHAMPION!!!!

LOCKS THE HALF-NELSON BACK IN

NOW A FULL-NELSON!!!!!

AND

ICH

MUSS

DICH

BRECHEN!!!!!

FULL NELSON FACEBUSTER!!!!

JC: OH MY GOD! BESTY NAILED IT~!!

SHE COVERS!

1!

2!!

3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE REF BEGINS THE 10 COUNT!

1!

Betsy, exhausted, throws all of her weight down on Scoops. Keeping his arms pinned down with her knees.

2!!

3!!!

Scoops is completely unresponsive

4!!!!

5!!!!

6!!!!!!

The crowd is buzzing!

7!!!!!!!

THEY SENSE IT!!!!!

8!!!!!!!!

SCOOPS’ EYES BURST OPEN!!!!

9!!!!!!!!

HE POWERS UP- FREEING HIS ARMS AND CLAPPING BETSY’S EARS!

BUT IS IT TOOK LATE!!?????

10—--NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

SCOOPS HAS RISEN TO HIS FEET WITH BETSY’S LEGS ON HIS SHOULDERS!!

JC:I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! BETSY GRANGER WAS MERELY MILLISECONDS AWAY FROM WINNING THE CHAMPIONSHIP!

But Betsy is teeing off on Scoops’ head! The two stumble around the ring, Scoops’ legs barely able to sustain much more weight. Betsy continues to punch at the open wound on Scoops’ head.

The stumble near the turnbuckle and Betsy is in a perfect position to hit her patented HURRICANRANA DRIVER!!!!!!!

BUT SCOOPS HALTS HER MOMENTUM. SHE’S DANGLING UPSIDE DOWN TRIYNG TO DRIVE THE CHAMPION’S HEAD INTO THE CANVAS.

BUT SCOOPS SHIFTS AND SWINGS!!!

BLAM!

As Betsy was rising back up the side of her temple connects with that now fully-exposed turnbuckle pad from earlier, and she falls limp into the corner.

Scoops falls to his knees, watching his blood spill onto the mat. He wobbles up to his feet, and turns to finish Betsy off…. BUT THE CHALLENGER IS UP AGAIN AND RUNNING AT HIM!

SINGLE LEG DROPKICK!!!

IS CAUGHT!

SCOOPS HAS THE LEAPING BETSY ON HIS SHOULDERS AGAIN

THEY’rE FALLING TOWARD THE ROPES

JR; HOLY SHIT, JACKIE!!!!!

DYNAMITE BOMB!!!!

Scoops hits his rare powerbomb finish on Betsy over the top rope and onto the exposed concrete floor!!!!

The crowd is going insane!

Betsy Granger is completely motionless on the floor. Scoops is on his knees in the ring. His eyes wide with shock, and even a hint of horror as he looks out to the floor.

He nearly has to crawl under the bottom rope, falling off the apron and onto Betsy for an exhausted pinfall

1!

2!!

3!!!

Scoops falls off of the pin, his chest heaving for air as the ref begins the 10 count

1!

2!!

3!!!

4!!!!

Neither person is moving

5!!!!!

6!!!!!!

Scoops sits up now. Still panting. Looking at Betsy who is completely unconscious next to hm

7!!!!!!!

8!!!!!!!!!

BUT BETSY IS STARTING TO MOVE!!!!!!

9!!!!!!!!

But with a final effort, Scoops uses some muscle to ensure that her shoulders stay down!

10!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And immediately collapse back over to the floor as the bell rings.

Winner: SCOOPS MCGEE

JC: You wanna talk about a buzzer-beater, folks? Scoops McGee dug down deep to pull off a HUGE defense here tonight in our main event!

JR: Betsy pulled out a lot more from the old man than I would have guessed, but it’s not enough!

The fans pop like crazy as the referee awards Scoops the Universal title, who holds it close to his chest as he forces his way back to his feet! Beaten and battered, he holds the title up in the air to soak in the adoration!

JC: Thank you for tuning in to another action-packed night of Warfare, folks! We’ll continue to bring you nothing but the best, so be sure to keep tuning in!

The camera fades to black as Scoops begins to leave the ringside area.

A special THANK-YOU to all our match writers who helped the show go up!

Atticus Gold
Bobby Bourbon
Dick Lichter
Dolly Waters
Peter Principle

Another THANK-YOU as well to everyone who submitted segments for this show!

Betsy Granger
Bobby Bourbon
Elon Musk
Isaiah King
John Black
Kieran King
Scoops McGee

]]>

April - 27 - 2026

LIVE FROM CHASE CENTER

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

Deena Hixx & El Landerson
- vs -
Doctor Clown, MD & Patient Clown
Tornado Tag - #1 Contender’s Match for the XWF Tag Team Championships

Asher Hayes
- vs -
John Black
Singles

Jordan Penn
- vs -
Frances Marigold
Flaming Tables XXX-Travaganza

First Man to Put Their Opponent through a Flaming Table Wins

Rowan Vance
- vs -
Remi Storm
Submission Match

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Kristoffer ‘Vamp’ Arroyo
Singles

XWF Television Championship
Yelena Gorgo ©
- vs -
Korvayne
15 Minute Time Limit

XWF Universal Championship
Scoops McGee©
- vs -
Betsy Granger
Texas Deathmatch

A competitor must first pin their opponent and then ensure they fail to respond to a 10-count to win.

Deena Hixx & El Landerson
- vs -
Doctor Clown, MD & Patient Clown
Tornado Tag - #1 Contender’s Match for the XWF Tag Team Championships

Winners and #1 Contenders to the XWF Tag Team Championships: CLOWNS ‘R US!

JC: WOW! What an upset! The Clowns pull it off!

JR: Say your prayers! Because the Circus is coming to Leap of Faith!

JC: Leap of Faith is looking more like a trapeze at this point!

Asher Hayes
- vs -
John Black
Singles

Winner: Asher Hayes

Jordan Penn
- vs -
Frances Marigold
Flaming Tables XXX-Travaganza

First Man to Put Their Opponent through a Flaming Table Wins

Winner: Frances Marigold

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TkUKyTLYQos[/youtube]

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kqHSGVtfXhc]

Ring Entrance (PLEASE write one out for use in match/show writing):

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"

Rowan Vance
- vs -
Remi Storm
Submission Match

Winner: Remi Storm

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Kristoffer ‘Vamp’ Arroyo
Singles

Winner: Kristoffer ‘Vamp’ Arroyo

15:00

13:43…

13:42…

13:41…

11:38

11:37

11:36

10:22

10:21

10:20

8:59

8:58

8:57

7:45

7:44

7:43

7:08

7:07

7:06

WINNER, AND NEW TELEVISION CHAMPION:
KORVAYNE

JUNE 21ST 2026.

CELEBRATE FATHER’S DAY WITH BRUNCH!

GLOBAL CULINARY CHALLENGE BRUNCH!

CELEBRATE…

AMERICA’S DAD!

XWF Universal Championship
Scoops McGee©
- vs -
Betsy Granger
Texas Deathmatch

A competitor must first pin their opponent and then ensure they fail to respond to a 10-count to win.

GET YOUR COMMEMORATIVE SCOOPS - vs - FATHER TIME T-SHIRTS! AVAILABLE AT THE XWF SHOPZONE!

Winner: SCOOPS MCGEE

]]> <![CDATA[WARFARE - April 13th 2026]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=50000 Wed, 15 Apr 2026 07:55:08 -0700 Liam Desmond]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=50000

April - 13 - 2025

LIVE FROM TYSON EVENTS CENTER

SIOUX CITY, IOWA

Scoops McGee Coronation Ceremony!

The Crowning of the new Universal Champion and King of the XWF, Scoops McGee!
Sponsored by the Trillionaires!

Jordan Penn
- vs -
Betsy Granger
Singles

Frances Marigold
- vs -
Kentucky “Tuck” Taggart
Unsanctioned Street Fight

John Blade
- vs -
Remi Storm
- vs -
Doctor Clown, MD
Triple-Threat

Rowan Vance
- vs -
El Landerson
X-Treme Rules

Korvayne and a Mystery Partner(???)
- vs -
The Exiles
Sebastian Everett-Bryce and Isaiah King
Standard Tag

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Gator
Last Man Standing

XWF Television Championship
Matthias Syn ©
- vs -
Yelena Gorgo
15 Minute Time Limit

CARD SUBJECT TO CHANGE

OOC: WARFARE RULES is 1 RP LIMIT with a 4K WORD LIMIT unless stated otherwise.
Hard deadline for Warfare will be SATURDAY, 4-11-2026 at 11:59pm board (Pacific) time.

Please remember to double check your Word Counts: (Google Docs/Wordcounter.net)
And to double check your AI Score: (Must be under 25% - GPTZero.me/ZeroGPT.com)
Staff will not be held responsible for lost points/disqualifications if your RP fails these tests!

Good luck and have fun!

Scoops McGee Coronation Ceremony!

The Crowning of the new Universal Champion and King of the XWF, Scoops McGee!
Sponsored by the Trillionaires!

The Trillionaires, Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and the muthafuckin’ ZUCK, yo, all roll down the ring!

JC: I’m being handed a card to read which says… That this coronation event… the culmination of a boyhood dream… what wrestling is all about… is brought to you by the Trillionaires. Watch the coronation tonight on Amazon Prime for exclusive highlights from Scoops McGee’s journey, including his divorce and abandonment of his chi-I’m not reading this.

JR: What? Are you illiterate, Jacuinde? You know, AI can read for you these days!

The Trillionaires arrive at the apron and in unison all steps through the ropes… They’re wearing suits like they’re the ones accepting awards tonight… They each shake each other’s hands as a member of the ring crew brings Elon Musk a microphone.

JC: What the hell are these three so pleased with themselves about, Joe?

ELON: Hello, XWF Universe!

…

The crow doesn’t pop much.

ELON: I imagine you’re all unsure of how to react because we haven’t told you what to think! Be confident that tonight is a night of triumph! Of celebration!

Because, FINALLY, Scoops McGee is YOUR XWF Universal champion!

The crowd goes fucking apeshit!

JC: Folks, we are in SIOUX CITY! This is SCOOPS MCGEE COUNTRY if there ever was one!

ELON: So much hard work! So much time and effort and thought and planning and VISION! To arrive at this moment! With a world championship belt around Scoops McGee’s waist! And we’re here to acknowledge the people who made it possible…

The crowd continues to scream!

ELON: And those people would be… Jeff Bezos!

Jeff smiles and waves as the crowd’s applause starts to subside…

ELON: Mark Zuckerburg!

Marky Mark puts up his fingers to represent West Side (Silicon Valley) as the crowd’s applause begins to turn.

ELON: And of course! ELON MUSK!

JC: Of course the Trillionaires want to make this moment all about themselves… Not the four decades Scoops dedicated to this sport…

JR: Hey! Scoops *should* be thanking the Trillionaires! This is the most watched program in XWF history thanks to how much money the Trillionaires have dumped into advertising this coronation show!

ELON: And now… we welcome a man to the ring! The King of the XWF! Who will have the opportunity to… Elon smiles. ”Give credit to the men who made him a champion…”

"So, without further ado…" Elon smirks, pointing to the ramp as the audience begins to realize what's coming next! "I present to you all, the new Universal Champion AND King of the XWF…"

"SCOOPS MCGEE!"

THE CHORUS OF BOOS ARE REPLACED WITH A SEA OF CHEERS THAT MAKES THE BUILDING SHAKE!

IT HOLDS…

HOLDS…

…

BEFORE SCOOPS MCGEE COMES OUT FROM THE BACK!

And behind him come out the rest of the House of Hardcore!

Dickie Watson!

Game Girl!

And Amber Mansley!

JC: I think we're gonna be lucky if we don't get hearing loss from this at all, Joe!

JR: You wanna talk about a homecoming, Jack, I don't think you'll ever find a better example than this right here. It's been years since Scoops has been able to show up in front of the people of Iowa for a show like this.

JC: And let alone for the monumental feat of reaching the top of the mountain! Four decades-plus in the making for this very moment, leading to him snatching not one, but TWO of the top accolades we have here!

The four of them stand on the stage, soaking in the applause of a lifetime! Scoops takes a long moment, a smile stretched across his face as tens of thousands will him on!

Scoops and Game Girl both take the time to high-five the reaching fans as they make their way down to the ring! Dickie nods along with the crowd, tagging a few errant hands left behind, while Amber stands in the center of the crowd, holding her phone up and filming a livestream of the group's entrance together!

The four enter the ring together, and Scoops comes face-to-face in the center of the ring with Elon! There's an electricity still humming in the air as Scoops' music fades out, before finally…

"Congratulations, Mister McGee."

Elon stretches his hand out, looking almost pained to do so! Scoops thinks on it for a moment, before nodding as he accepts it!

JC: Folks, if you've been watching for a few months, you know the animosity these two have had for each other. Elon Musk was one of the biggest naysayers to Scoops rising to the top, he's tried to have him in jail, he sent the pirate ship he was on in March Madness right to the Strait of Hormuz to try and kill the man-

JR: And he giftwrapped him a title shot in the main event of Snow Pain, Snow Gain.

JC: But even that was to try and drive a wedge between the House of Hardcore! But that's a bond that's only looking stronger than ever right about now!

Elon is quick to try and separate himself from the handshake, eyes nearly bulging out of his skull as he exhales, unable to help himself from pacing around the ring for a moment. Bezos and Zuck share a look with each other as Elon turns to Dickie, Game Girl and Amber, pantomiming a handshake with them from afar.

"I'd shake each of your hands too, but really, touching one poor man is more than enough for me for tonight. Just… pretend I'm shaking your hands."

Boos begin to come down now towards Elon as the House looks at each other, a mixture of confusion and disgust on their faces! Bezos looks at the crowd and motions with his hand across his throat to try and get the crowd to stop, but they only get louder!

JC: Well, I guess our owner isn't totally over himself yet…

JR: Watch yourself, Jack, or you might be the commentator getting replaced this time.

Elon looks at the booing crowd, pausing… before a smile comes across his face too! "I'm glad to see the people of Iowa hate the poor as much as I do! Really, they're so gross, and-"

Before the boos can turn louder, Bezos interjects. "Sir, we're here to crown the new champion…?"

"Oh. Right." Elon clears his throat, turning to the third Trillionaire in the ring. "Mark, if you'd please."

The Zuck stops scratching his ass as he straightens and nods at Elon, moving across the ring towards the first of two covered pedestals! He takes off the cover, revealing the traditional Universal Championship!

The crowd pops as Zuckerberg takes it off its pedestal, shuffling over towards Scoops as he puts it around his waist! Scoops shuffles the belt in place, adjusting to its weight as he smiles just looking at it!

The second cover on the pedestal comes off now, revealing the Crown of the XWF! The fans pop even louder now, its jewels glimmering under the lights above!

JR: It almost feels… I guess 'wrong' is the term… not to see that crown on Kieran King's head right about now.

JC: I'm sure Kieran would agree with you right about now, Joe, but I think this is a sight we're gonna get used to very soon.

As Zuckerberg places the crown on top of Scoops' head, Amber comes out of nowhere to take a flash photo of the crowning moment! Scoops flinches from the sudden burst of light as Game Girl slides in for a double photo! Scoops covers up from the light as Dickie snorts at the sight before telling Amber to ease up.

Elon takes a moment to let the moment settle down, before he begins to speak again. "Now that that's settled, Mister McGee-"

"Should we call him 'King,' sir?" Bezos asks, before he's quickly silenced with a stare from Elon.

"…As I was saying."

Elon looks back at Scoops, once more pacing around the ring as he does so. "Now that we're getting through this ceremony, Mister McGee, I think we should talk business. It's no secret that you ought to be commended for the amount of years you put into this profession. You've scratched and clawed your way to the top… but now that you've ticked off the last thing on your bucket list, I think the question becomes, 'when will this end?'"

A nervous silence falls through the crowd…

"I mean, really, the last thing we would want is for you to get seriously injured in the ring, you know? These people, they love you. Every show you appear on, every t-shirt you sell, it's a magic memory you create with them. If something goes wrong, then… well… you wouldn't want to taint those memories, would you?"

Scoops frowns, clearly unconvinced. Elon doesn't seem to notice as he continues rambling.

"But think about it. The Scoops McGee retirement tour? It'd be electric! I can just imagine the tagline now… 'The Last Big Scoop.'"

A beat passes as Elon's smile drops. "Eh. I think that could use some work. But-"

Scoops snatches the mic out of Elon's hand as the crowd pops! Elon freezes, unsure of what just happened as Bezos pales in the background!

"Listen here, boah," Scoops barks as he stares Elon down! "You can throw all the platitudes you want my way, but we're gonna make three things crystal clear right about now. You ain't gonna disrespect my House-"

Scoops points at the House of Hardcore, nodding in unison as the crowd pops!

"You ain't gonna disrespect these people-" Scoops points to the crowd as they get even louder now!

"And you ain't gonna disrespect ME!" Scoops jabs a finger at his own chest, his gravelly voice echoing in the mic.

Off-mic, Elon looks at Bezos, seeming to ask him for a live translation of Scoops' promo! Bezos whispers in Elon's ear, and Elon's face contorts in disgust in real-time as Scoops continues!

"Fact of the matter is, I'm the best I've ever been in this ring. I've gotten to this point by fightin' against and alongside some of the best this business has to offer in the process, and that includes my House beside me!"

Scoops saunters over to the House of Hardcore, the four standing in line together, defiant against the Trillionaires. "I will be good and God-DAMNED if I let some mealy-mouthed, yellow-bellied pricks tell me how to retire! When I hang up the boots, I'm doin' it on my terms, and it ain't gonna be a moment before, you got that?!"

Elon holds a hand out to Bezos, who reluctantly hands him his own microphone, letting him speak once again.

"You may think that to be the case, Mister McGee," Elon hums. "I think it's important to remember though… you may hold a crown on your head, but we still call the shots around here. We put you in the position to succeed… and we can put you in the position to fail in the process. Both you… and your little poor friends."

"Succeed?!" Scoops roars, completely irate. "You people tried to get me to rot in jail! You people tried to fuckin' kill me, and you want to talk about makin' me SUCCEED? Fuck you! Fuck all three of you!"

Zuckerberg points at his own chest, completely dumbfounded as to why he's getting called out alongside his fellow Trillionaires! Bezos tries to tell Scoops not to use such language, only for Scoops to flip him off! The crowd pops like crazy as Game Girl flushes a beet red at hearing such things!

"You wanna target me? You wanna target my House?" Scoops continued. "We'll walk out right now on the spot. The unionized wrestlers" - another huge pop from the crowd at the mention of the union! - "ain't gonna let this stand either, boahs. So I'd pick your next course of action very carefully right about now."

"And that's a union without a President right about now," Elon reminded to some scattered boos.

"Ain't gonna be the case for much longer," Scoops snorted. "Before March Madness, I said in my promo that I'm wantin' to give back to this industry the best way that I can. I may not be used to bein' a King, but that don't mean that I ain't gonna give this my best shot, no siree. And if one of the ways I can give back is by makin' sure you chucklefucks can stop meddlin' in what we do? Then I'm up for the challenge."

The three Trillionaires share a look at each other, a look of silent agreement on their faces for once as Elon looks at Scoops one more time.

"We'll see how that fares, Mister McGee," Elon smirked. "Just as we'll be watching you come Leap of Faith."

"But you'd be wise not to pick a fight you can't win."

The three Trillionaires walk out of the ring and to the back together to a chorus of boos, leaving Scoops and the House of Hardcore in the ring together.

As Scoops' music plays over the loudspeakers, the House of Hardcore share a last moment in the ring together, looking out at the screaming and cheering fans. Scoops holds his Universal championship tight as one unifying chant breaks out amongst the people:

"YOU DESERVE IT!" CLAP! CLAP! CLAPCLAPCLAP! "YOU DESERVE IT!" CLAP! CLAP! CLAPCLAPCLAP!

A single tear streaks down across Scoops' face as the rest of the House gives the man a moment to breathe and speak.

"The only way tonight could be better right about now would be if I was fightin' in front of you," Scoops nodded. "But I'll settle for this, and to make you the promise that the next time we come here, I'll do my best to keep fightin' for this belt, and I'll be in the main event for you all. But for right now?"

Scoops takes a deep breath, a few more tears trickling down his haggard face as his wide grin can't be wiped off his face.

"Make no mistake: I'm the happiest man in the world right about now. Just remember that if I can be at the top right now, each of you have the potential to succeed in life yerselves."

"Thank you all! I love you!"

Scoops gives one last bow to the people as they break out into a thunderous applause, and the House of Hardcore take a moment to embrace in the center of the ring before they head to the back together.

JC: I don't know if Scoops is gonna be able to make good on his promise to get rid of the Trillionaires, but I think we can say that he's crazy and stubborn enough to try.

JR: If he can pull it off though, Jack? It might be an even bigger miracle than what he did in the tournament.

Out in the private carpark of the Tyson Events Center, the camera picks up a dapper pair of shoes walking along the concrete.

It pans up, over a tan pair of trousers and up to a half-unbuttoned dress shirt. A jacket—matching the pants—is slung over the shoulder of a man who walks with purpose.

Still dressed as though the world was his (perhaps even more so than a month ago), he is the deposed king.

Kieran King.

Just two weeks past he would have been flanked by an array of armed goons and carried himself with an unmatched smugness. He now quells a simmering ire beneath an immaculately groomed face.

And he walks alone.

But this is not the look of a man who is distraught and destitute. This is a man who has picked himself up from the lowest of lows! This is a man ready to march to victory once again!

This is also a man who doesn't have a match tonight…

Security: Sorry, you'll have to stop there.

Kieran squints his eyes as a member of the XWF Security Team steps in front of him.

Kieran King: What are you talking about?

Security: I can't let you in the building.

Kieran King: Again… what are you talking about?

Security: You… you don't even remember who I am, do you?

Kieran King: I am pretty sure that I have never seen your face before in my life.

Security: THAT'S BECAUSE YOU MADE ME WEAR A MASK!

Kieran glowers.

Kieran King: Kingsguard?

Security: YOU called me Number 15. But my real name is Mick.

Kieran King: Terrible name. 15 is much better.

Mick the Security Guard: Yeah, well, I don't work for you anymore.

Kieran King: And yet here you are, doing the same job you were when you did. Probably for less money too.

Mick the Security Guard: At least I don't have to work for a prick like you.

Kieran King: No, you just work for Tommy Gunn who's a prick in his own right. Or at least he will be when he drags himself out of the hospital bed that I put him in. And if you go up the chain from Tommy, all you get are pricks along the way. Peter Principle? Prick. Vinnie Lane? Prick. Musk, Bezos, and Zuckerturd? All pricks.

Mick the Security Guard: And yet they're still all better than working for you.

Kieran King: You're in the honeymoon phase. Sooner or later you'll realise what I did for you. But for now, I just need you to move out of my way.

Kieran goes to move past.

Mick cuts him off.

Mick the Security Guard: No can do. Management has given explicit instructions that Kieran King is not to be let in.

Kieran King: Why?

[purple]Mick the Security Guard: Because they don't want you throwing a tantrum over getting your ass beat by Dolly Waters and ruining the night.

Kieran King: Who is ‘they’?

Mick the Security Guard: EVERYONE.

Kieran stiffens his jaw. He swings his jacket from his shoulder and lays it across a nearby crate before stepping closer to the security guard.

Kieran King: 15… Mick... do I look like I'm about to throw a tantrum? Do I look like I'm in the midst of some existential meltdown? Do I look like I GIVE A FUCK about losing the union? I know what I've created, I know the legacy that I've left in this business, and I damn sure know that it's only going to take a few matches and I'm going to be right back where I was to begin with and ready to rip the head off whoever is the best loser between Scoops and SEB. I've put both of their asses to the mat on more than one occasion and neither of them have ever done the same to me.

I will be Universal Champion again.

There's nothing ‘they’—this nameless management you're referring to—can do about it.

There's nothing anyone in that locker room can do about it.

And there's nothing YOU can do about it.

Now I'm going to ask you again… move out of my way.

Suddenly, the door behind Mick swings open and out files a whole troop of security guards. All big men, and all staring at Kieran with disdain.

Kieran King: Let me guess, all Kingsguard?

You're welcome for your jobs, by the way.

I trained the best of you to do what I do in the ring, and you lost more than you won. I count ten of you. That's not enough to make up the difference.

Mick the Security Guard: We're willing to test that theory.

Kieran licks his lips as he mulls his next move.

A smile cracks onto his face as he takes half a step backwards.

Kieran King: I'm proud of you, Mick. I'm proud of all of you! You're all grown up! But trust me… you're not ready for this smoke. Don't expect to come asking for a handout from Dad when everything falls to shit again.

As one last defiant move, he pokes Mick with his finger.

Kieran King: Tell “management” that I was here. Tell them that I left you all still standing. Tell them that's me offering an olive branch.

Tell them that there won't be another.”

Smiling again as he throws his jacket back over his shoulder, Kieran takes two steps backwards and spins, heading back the way he came.

The camera flicks to the gathered security officers who watch as he goes, and then quickly pans across the car park, catching Kieran just in time for him to walk out of frame again.

But the camera doesn't follow him further.

Instead, it catches the spark of a cigarette firing to life in the distance.

It zooms in, and there, flickering in the flames amongst the shadows and watching Kieran's departure…

is ALIAS.

A puff of smoke sends the camera to black.

Darkness. Silence. A pause.

"Hey, that your boyfriend?"

"True Believers" by DON BROCO feat. Sam Carter starts as the crowd starts a deafening chorus of boos. A spotlight.

"And that big red flag they waving, it's your choice."

The automatons, bearing their respective symbols on their masks appear, two on either side of the spotlight. X, O, Triangle and Square. A helicopter hovers now. From it comes a ladder that lowers down onto the spotlight, carrying Jordan Penn in his masked Director persona. He descends fully and kneels as his minions follow suit.

"All the true believers, All the true believers, All the true believers..."

"WAKE THE FUCK UP!"

In that moment, he removes his mask as pyro explodes onto the stage behind him. Two other men join the entourage now, Greg Brune and Wallace. Jordan strides single-mindedly and quickly toward the ring, flanked by his four masked and two unmasked men. As he reaches the edge of the ring, he surveys the crowd, taking in their boos and letting it fuel him. A wry smile etched across his face, he laughs and looks to his men. The masked men get on all fours and form a human staircase for him. He walks across their backs with purpose and enters the ring. Wallace nods, signaling for the masked men to head backstage. Wallace and Greg Brune take their places on either side of the ring as Jordan mockingly does a pageant wave to the crowd, met with more booing. He flips off the audience in at least three different ways before leaning on the turnbuckle and looking out once more at the crowd and waiting for the match to begin.

JC: Tonight’s opening match might as well be the main event, not just because it’s CHAMPION vs CHAMPION, and not just because it’s The Blaque Sheep vs The Impossible Traveler-

JR: But because there is some MAJOR DRAMA attached to this one!

JC: That’s right, Joe! Jordan Penn, formerly known as The Director, ditched his mask at March Madness and revealed his true face to the XWF!

JR: And his face is the face of SEBASTIAN EVERETT-BRYCE!

JC: That’s right, Joe! They are long-lost twin brothers, and Jordan Penn has promised to turn Sebastian’s empire into ASH.

JR: He already took Sebastian’s tag-team championships, and tonight, he’s looking to take it one step further!

“Now, who’s ready to be baptized into a new era of entertainment?!”

The lights go out in the arena as the voice calls out its query. A moment later, bright, twinkling lights like stars scatter across the building.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day
You gotta climb a little higher,
To the top of the display,
Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

The starlight intensifies as a figure rises from beneath the platform, her back to the crowd, head down. The song continues to echo throughout the arena, electric and intense. Her blonde hair is tied into a tight shark-braid that swings back and forth as she bounces from foot to foot.

“If you want it, just take it,
The world's yours, don’t waste it,
Go make the stars align, to shine-”

The rising platform levels to the arena floor in unison with the beat drop to the song.

“BRIGHTER!”

As the word echoes through the arena, an explosion of sparkling pyrotechnics go off as Betsy Granger throws out her arms, revealing a blue chiffon robe lit with bright stars.

“Brighter than the heavens in the skies above,
(oooh oooh)
You’ll be,
BRIGHTER!"

Twirling gracefully to face the crowd, she points skyward as the lights in the arena flood back on. Betsy bounces twice before half-running, half-skipping down the ramp towards the ring.

"Going supernova, all the eyes look up
(at you, at you)
BRIGHTER!”

The song switches to an instrumental break as she does one complete circuit around the ring. Throwing off her cape on the announcer's table, she dashes towards the ring and jumps onto the apron in a one clean move. Using her momentum, she bounces clean over the top rope and spins on her toes to the center of the ring, arms out wide. As she comes to a stop, the music swells, and the crowd joins in like a devoted choir, just the same as the song itself.

“BRIIIIIIIIIGHTEEEEERRRRRRR”

Betsy grins widely and bounces from foot to foot, ready for the fight.
JC: Betsy Granger may be one of the kindest people in the galaxy: but tonight, she’s putting all of that to the side!

JR: That’s right! Tonight, we’re not getting Betsy Granger the lovable bombshell: tonight, we’re getting Betsy Granger the PISSED OFF Girlfriend!

JC: Ain’t that the truth, Joe! Betsy vowed to get revenge against Jordan for what he did to Sebastian at March Madness…the only question is, can she walk the walk just as well as she talks the talk?

JR: We are about to find out! I get the feeling that this match is going to be an instant classic!

Jordan Penn
- vs -
Betsy Granger
Singles

There’s no feeling out process.
They meet in the center and immediately start throwing!
Forearm smash from Jordan Penn.
Forearm back from Betsy Granger.
Another from Penn—harder.
Betsy answers with a sharp, snapping semi-circular kick to the ribs that echoes through the arena. Penn barely flinches. He steps forward and cracks her with a spinning backfist that turns her head violently to the side!
Betsy stumbles—but doesn’t fall.
She fires back with a rapid combination—low kick, mid kick, high kick—each one snapping against Penn’s body and jaw. He eats them, grinning through it, before stepping in and driving a brutal headbutt straight into her face.
Both stagger backwards!
JC: There’s no love lost between these two tonight!
JR: The Impossible Traveler and The Blacque Sheep have laid claim to Sebastian Everett-Bryce and his legacy, respectively! And tonight, they’re battling it out!
Penn recovers first. He grabs her by the arm and yanks—
German suplex!
Betsy folds hard, neck snapping against the mat. Penn doesn’t release—he rolls through—
Second German suplex!
He holds again—
Third—
Betsy blocks it mid-lift, dropping her weight and stomping his foot. She spins out, twisting the arm—
Armwringer into a spinning wristlock!
She cranks down violently, dragging him to a knee.
Penn snarls and rises anyway, muscling through the torque. He yanks her in—
Spinebuster!
He drives her into the mat with authority and floats over, not for a cover, but to grab her face—talking to her, jaw tight, venom in every word.
Betsy spits in his face!
JC: This match is already getting personal!
JR: Of course this is personal! Betsy is banging Jordan’s brother- and Jordan isn’t happy about it! But not for the reasons you’d think!
Penn wipes the spit away slowly…then removes one of his black gloves. He throws it into the crowd-
Then rears his hand back to pimpslap Betsy!
The slap echoes.
Betsy fires back instantly—
With a backflip kick!
Penn’s head snaps back and he drops to a knee.
Betsy surges forward—
Single leg dropkick!
Right to the chest, sending him into the ropes.
She charges—
Penn explodes off the ropes—
Flying knee!
It crashes into Betsy’s jaw mid-motion and sends her flipping to the mat.
Both collapse to the mat after the impact!
JC: Jordan Penn might’ve just broken his future sister-in-law’s jaw! Sebastian isn’t going to like that!
JR: I think that’s the point! He’s trying to send a message to his brother, THROUGH Betsy!
JC: And what’s that message, Joe?
JR: First, he’s coming for your belts….and then, he’s coming for your woman! But not in the way you’d expect!
JC: Wow, what a twist! Jordan Penn is an everyday M. Night Shamalyan!
Penn rises first, breathing hard now, the smile gone. He drags Betsy up and hooks her—
Suplex.
He holds her up for a moment…lets the crowd ‘oooh’ and ‘aaah’ at his strength…lets the blood rush…then drops her flat!
He doesn’t release.
He pulls her up again—
Back breaker!
Across the knee!
Betsy gasps—but immediately reaches back—
Bridging Fujiwara armbar!
She traps the arm out of nowhere and arches back, wrenching it violently!
JC: Betsy Granger is like a python in that ring! She’s slithery, she strikes when you least expect, and when she gets her jaws around you it’s all but over! Jordan Penn might have to tap out here!
JR: She clearly takes her Brazilian Jiu Jitsu very seriously, and I respect the hell out of that!
Penn roars, trying to power out, rolling, twisting—
He gets to his feet with her still attached and deadlifts—
Power slam counter!
He crushes her into the mat to break the hold.
Betsy rolls away, clutching her ribs.
JC: Well dang, that’s one way to break a submission hold!
JR: And break a few of Betsy’s ribs, at the same time! That’s a veteran move from Jordan Penn!
JC: A veteran move indeed, Joe! This is Jordan Penn’s second stint in the XWF, and it looks like he’s only gotten wiser and more experienced with age!
Penn pulls off his second glove now.
This is different.
He grabs her by the hair and drags her up—she fires a desperate reverse roundhouse kick that clips his jaw—but he eats it and responds with a brutal bulldog, spiking her face-first.
He doesn’t let her go.
He pulls her up again—
DDT!
Spikes her again!
Then goes for the cover—
1!

2!!

Betsy kicks out!!!
JC: Betsy will never go down that easy!
JR: Hah, phrasing! Maybe she’d go down easier if he was his brother!
JC: Have some respect, Joe!
Penn sits up immediately, glaring, then grabs her arms, dragging her into position—
Surfboard stretch!
He leans back, pulling her spine apart, grinding her down into the mat.
Betsy screams—but starts kicking, shifting her weight, inching—
She rolls through—
Cloverleaf with armlock!
She traps him, wrenching both leg and arm at once.
Now Penn is the one shouting!
JC: Another brilliant reversal from The Wayward Wanderer! Betsy Granger’s ground game is impeccable!
JR: I hear she’s been wrestling Sebastian lately, and that’s one sure-fire way to improve your skills! Jordan never got the chance to wrestle with Sebastian when they were kids, because, well….Jordan’s family hated him and gave him away!
JC: That’s….really sad…
JR: And now? His family is probably cheering as they watch Betsy Granger wrench his leg and his arm at the same time!
JC: That’s….probably true, actually.
He claws forward, dragging both of them inch by inch, sheer strength pulling him toward the ropes—
But Betsy releases before the break and stomps his arm repeatedly.
She pulls him up—
Down You Go! (Cobra clutch legsweep!)
He crashes to the mat.
She doesn’t cover.
She grabs the arm again—
Straight jacket!
She cinches it in tight, suffocating him, body scissors locked—
Penn starts fading—
Then suddenly surges, brute force, throwing himself backward—
They crash down to the mat hard!
Both are down again, drawing heavy breath as their sweat glistens under the spotlights.
JC: Jordan Penn used everything to fight out of that! But how much does he have left in the tank?!
JR: And how far is Betsy willing to go to avenge her lover’s loss at March Madness?!
They rise slower now.
Betsy throws a kick—
Penn catches it.
He spins her—
Reverse DDT!
But he doesn’t let go.
He drags her toward the corner.
Climbs.
Pulls her up with him.
Perched high—
He hooks her—
Moonsault reverse DDT!
They crash down in a violent heap as the crowd gasps!
JR: THIS COULD BE IT RIGHT HERE!
JC: JORDAN PENN MAKES THE COVER!
The referee drops down to count the pin-
1!

2!!

Betsy kicks out!!!
Penn slams the mat in frustration.
JC: Betsy finds the will to fight on! Jordan can’t believe it!
JR: My God, if I was Jordan Penn I’d be frustrated right now, too! What more does he have to do to keep her down?!
He stands, pacing, breathing heavy, and staring daggers at the referee.
He waits until the referee turns around to flash two fingers at the hardcam…..
EMPIRE KICK!
The referee drops to the mat, unconscious and unaware of what just hit him!
The crowd gasps in shock!
JC: Jordan Penn just attacked the referee! He should be immediately disqualified!
JR: Well…who’s going to DQ him, Jacquinde?! The referee’s out cold!
Jordan then reaches into his boot—
He pulls out a coiled whip.
The crowd noise swells.
He cracks it once in the air.
Betsy is on her knees, trying to stand—
CRACK!
Across her back.
She screams.
Penn stalks forward—
CRACK!
Again.
He tosses the whip aside, grabbing her—
He winds her up—
The Whip Crack (Rainmaker clothesline)!
Betsy ducks it.
She spins—
Rolling Koppu kick!
It lands flush.
Penn staggers—
Betsy fires—
Plante de Visage (Hurricanrana driver)!
She spikes him into the mat.
Both collapse!
JC: The referee, The Impossible Traveler, and The Blacque Sheep are all down!
JR: This match is taking everything they have! Jordan Penn is pulling out every dirty trick in his book, and Betsy Granger is countering with pure GRIT!
Betsy crawls first.
She pulls Penn up—
Galactic Advantage (Snapmare driver)!
Another spike!
She covers-
And the referee slowly starts coming to.
After a few second, the referee notices that Jordan Penn is covered- and starts counting!
Slowly!

1!

2!!

Penn barely kicks out!!!
JR: The Blacque Sheep fights through the adversity and kicks out!
JC: Adversity- what adversity?! He attacked the referee, pulled out a foreign object, and STILL almost just ate a pin! If the referee wasn’t half-concussed, I think Jordan would already be DQed!
JR: That’s what I’m talking about….adversity!
Betsy exhales sharply, frustration creeping in.
She drags him up again—he suddenly explodes—
Spinning backfist!
She drops.
He pulls her up instantly—
Final Cut (Spirit Gun)!
He blasts her with it—
He makes the cover—

1!

2!!

Betsy kicks out!
Penn can’t believe it.
His face changes.
He drags her up one more time, fury overtaking everything.
He points to the top rope.
He climbs, hauling her with him.
Setting up—
Erasure!
Top rope pedigree—
But Betsy fights.
Punch to the ribs.
Another.
She drops down behind him—
Hooks him—
German suplex off the second rope!
Both crash to the mat hard.
Neither moves for a long moment.
Then Betsy moves.
Slowly.
Dragging herself up using the ropes.
Penn staggers to his feet.
They meet again.
No speed left.
No gas in either tank.
Just pure violence!
JC: These two are running on fumes out here!
JR: I can sense that our end is drawing near, but this is still anyone’s match!
Forearm from Penn!
Matching forearm from Granger!
Headbutt from Penn.
Betsy answers with a brutal overhead kick!
Penn drops to a knee.
She steps in—
Locks it—
Full nelson!
Penn struggles—
She roars—
JR: ICH MUSS DICH BRECHEN!
JC: Betsy is bringing out the big guns to put Jordan Penn down for 3!
Full nelson facebuster!
She drives him face-first into the mat with everything she has left.
She collapses on top of him.

1!

2!!

3!!!

Winner: Betsy Granger

JC: What an AMAZING opening match! Jordan Penn gave it his all, and used every dirty trick he had, but Betsy Granger pulls out the impossible victory in tonight’s match!
JR: That’s right, Jacquinde! Jordan Penn gave her all she could handle, and trust me, we just saw her handle him in that ring! Tonight’s result will certainly put a smile on Sebastian’s face!
Neither gets up right away.
Betsy finally rolls off, clutching her ribs, dragging herself to the ropes to stand.
Jordan Penn lies motionless, face turned to the side, the fight beaten out of him—for tonight.
The Revolution Champion stands tall, barely, as the woozy referee raises her hand in front of the roaring crowd.

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.

JC: Frances Marigold, making his return to the XWF, and he looks like he's ready for a fight here tonight.

JR: He always looks like he's ready for a fight, Jack. Even when it's to his detriment, to be quite honest. I could count on one hand the number of guys who get off on pain to the level that this guy does.

JC: He'll need that wild edge tonight though if he wants to get a victory.

Frances rolls underneath the bottom rope, holding his hand up high as the crowd gives him some support.

The country twang of Stand Your Ground echoes as a mixed reaction echoes through the crowd. Tuck Taggart comes out from the back, a mean look on his face as he sneers at his opponent in the ring. He tips his hat to the camera before making his way down to the ring, shadowboxing as he moves across.

[white]JR: You wanna talk about a big, bad MFer, Jack, this guy… Tuck Taggart. He's as big and bad as they come.

JC: Tuck has experience both in slapfighting and pro wrestling, and he turns that experience into some of the hardest hitting action I've ever seen inside of the squared circle. You can just ask Mark Zuckerberg after Tuck knocked him out at March Madness…

JR: I'm still shocked he got away with that!

Tuck climbs up the steps and places his hat right on the ring post. He cleans his boots off on the apron before he walks inside… AND HE LUNGES RIGHT FOR FRANCES MARIGOLD!

JC: WOAH!

JR: Frances got taken by surprise by a cheap shot!

The referee yells as THE BELL RINGS!

Frances Marigold

- vs -

Kentucky “Tuck” Taggart

Unsanctioned Street Fight

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Lefts and rights are flying right now from both men as they try to ground-and-pound their opponent! Both Tuck and Frances are trying to keep each other down but their punches are echoing across the arena!

JR: Forget any kind of feeling out process here, because we got a FIGHT to start us off!

JC: They're out here trying to maim each other! Marigold, Tuck, they BOTH get off on pain!

Tuck eventually manages to try to use the ropes to come back to his feet, but Frances is still wailing on him with heavy body blows! Both men come up onto their feet as Tuck manages to shove Frances back before he winds up, twirling - DISCUS PUNCH!

CRACK!

That one rocked Frances! He staggers back to the ropes, letting them catch him as he glares at Tuck! He shoots forward with a giant SPEAR to try and take Tuck down!

But Tuck tries to sprawl even as Frances keeps moving forward like a wild beast! He manages to stay on his feet, but Frances manages to send him right into the corner, jabbing his shoulder into his gut two times! Frances takes Tuck out of the corner… HUGE snap DDT to level the big man!

Frances with the cover!

ONE!

KICKOUT!

JR: WOAH!

JC: Tuck's a mammoth of a man with skin like leather, Frances is gonna need a lot if he wants to keep Tuck down for the three-count!

Tuck staggers his way back to his feet, but Frances grabs him by the back of his neck to literally THROW him right into the turnbuckle again! Frances looks to follow up, only for Tuck to come roaring back with a boot to the gut that staggers him!

Tuck now grabs Frances by the skull, SLAMMING him right into the turnbuckle! Frances looks dazed as Tuck slams him down again, causing Frances to have to stagger back and away! Tuck doesn't let up, though, Irish-Whipping Frances and catching him with a sudden FALLAWAY SLAM on the rebound!

Frances goes flying across the ring! He ends up inadvertently rolling out of the ring, taking a hard landing out onto the floor as the fans wince! Tuck grins, letting him roll out of the ring elsewhere to give him a chance to look underneath the ring… and he pulls out a steel chair! The Tyson Events Center pops like crazy at the sight!

JC: Folks, we have to warn you now. If you've got any young children watching with you at home here, now is gonna be the time to make them look away, because we can't guarantee what's about to happen here in an unsanctioned match.

JR: Look at Frances and how he's pulling himself up! He's SMILING at that chair, Jack! I don't think he has all his marbles upstairs, and I'm not sure if I mean that as a compliment or an insult!

JC: And you can very easily say the same about Tuck…

Frances hops right up onto the apron and begins to run across as he's got a laser-focus on Tuck! He leaps, looking for a diving elbow drop!

Tuck sidesteps! Frances lands on his feet but Tuck pushes him back!

TUCK SWINGS THE CHAIR!

FRANCES TAKES THE BLOW ON HIS FOREARM THOUGH!

AND

HE

DOES

NOT

FALL!

THE FANS ARE HOLLERING AS FRANCES SCREAMS RIGHT IN TUCK'S FACE!

JC: He just… took the shot…

JR: There's pain tolerance, and then there's that!

Tuck gawks at the sight. He's not scared, but there's a clear, sudden recalibration in his head, having to adjust his own expectations on the fly as Frances continues to scream at him!

Tuck winds up for another chair shot!

BUT FRANCES RIPS THE CHAIR RIGHT OUT OF HIS HANDS!

CRACK! RIGHT ACROSS THE SHOULDERS! TUCK STAGGERS!

CRACK! TUCK DROPS TO A KNEE!

CRACK! TUCK RISES TO HIS FEET AND DROPS FRANCES WITH ANOTHER DISCUS PUNCH!

BOTH MEN ARE LAID OUT AS THE CHAIR GOES FLYING!

Tuck is trying to get up in the center of the ring as Frances rolls out, and now it's his turn to look underneath the ring! He quickly surfaces with a TRASH CAN! The lid is barely hanging on as a kendo stick is hanging out from the inside, and he rummages inside to also pull out…

JR: Is that a cheese grater?

JC: That… is indeed a cheese grater, Joe.

JR: I think I'm gonna be sick.

Frances shoots a grin to the fans, triumphantly holding up the cheese grater in a manner that indicates he should have no business being trusted near a hardware store. He begins to roll the trash can into the ring…

BUT TUCK BASEBALL SLIDES THE TRASH CAN RIGHT INTO FRANCES' FACE! Frances gets rocketed back right into the steel guard rail as he winces from the impact! Tuck slides out of the ring and he quickly brings the fight to Frances with some heavy right hands!

FRANCES RESPONDS BY RAKING THE CHEESE GRATER OVER TUCK'S ARMS! Tuck howls and yanks his arms back as he sees blood trickling down his muscles! Fans in the first few rows are outright cringing at the sight, but it gives Frances a chance to breathe!

Frances grabs the trash can lid and - CRACK! He slams it right against Tuck's skull as he falls onto a knee!

JC: I'm shocked Tuck isn't seeing stars right about now! Frances just put every ounce of power into that lid shot!

JR: Tuck's one mean bastard for not falling all the way, but he might regret that!

Frances doesn't let up as he drops the lid! He holds Tuck tight as he throws themselves back…

RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP RIGHT AGAINST THE BARRICADE!

JC: FRANCES JUST NAILED BOTH HIMSELF AND TUCK WITH THAT HARD SLAM!

Tuck crumbles to the floor! Frances staggers forward, holding his own back, but the roar of the crowd keeps him going as he shakes his head to ward off the pain! He staggers forward, climbing onto the apron before using it to climb the turnbuckles! He turns around to look at Tuck…

HI-ANGLE SENTON BOMB TO THE OUTSIDE!

JC: FRANNIE'S REVENGE! FRANNIE'S REVENGE! FRANCES GOT ALL OF IT!

JR: He might have just crushed Tuck with that senton! But they're both wiped out!

Tuck is on his knees, watching Frances twirl the kendo stick around in the center of the ring. He shoots forward towards Tuck, beating it against his chest! A ruby-red welt springs up as Tuck has to grit his teeth, bearing the pain! A second shot and welt soon follows though, and a third!

Frances with another shot- TUCK DUCKS! Frances goes wild with the shot as he inadvertently starts spinning, but that's all the time Tuck needs to get back to his feet! He grabs Frances from behind and nails him with a HUGE atomic drop! He picks up the kendo stick for himself, winding up…

AND HE BREAKS THE KENDO STICK IN HALF BY HITTING FRANCES RIGHT ACROSS THE BACK OF THE SKULL!

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

JR: That strength is INHUMAN!

JC: And enough to give you a concussion! Folks, Tuck Taggart is a former champion slapfighter in his own right, and he's putting that raw power to good use right about now!

Tuck yanks Frances to his feet, now clearly trying to target the back of the head as he plants him down once again with a swinging neckbreaker! Again he hoists Frances to his feet, pulling him up into a vertical suplex! The crowd 'oohs' and 'aahs' at the sight, blood rushing to Frances' head before Tuck runs forward to gain momentum and slams Frances right down to the mat!

JC: That's the Kentuckyplex right there, and Frances might be out of it!

Tuck goes for the cover!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Frances already tries to sit upright, but the camera swoops behind, seeing his blonde hair stained crimson from a nasty cut right on the back of his skull.

JC: Frances Marigold is busted wide open after that kendo stick shot from before, and Tuck Taggart has his target placed on a silver pedestal for himself!

JR: Attacking the back of the skull… that's dangerous work, Jack. Frances could take some serious brain damage from this match if he can't end it soon. The fact that he's still trying to go, though… there's something deeply wrong with that man, and I respect it enormously.

JC: Frances is on a timer with this match, now. He's the prey, and Tuck is the hunter.

Frances staggers onto all fours, but Tuck doesn't waste time! He begins to stretch Frances out, slapping on an Abdominal Stretch! Frances grits his teeth in the hold, but Tuck adds fuel to the flames as he lays down some heavy elbow shots right to the ribcage!

JC: Look at Tuck right there, he's beating on Frances' ribs like they're his own instrument! It's a Bluegrass Xylophone!

JR: Taking the fight to multiple spots all over his body right now!

Each shot sounds like a bat hitting a side of beef. Frances claws at Tuck's wrist, twisting, trying to hip-toss out of it! Tuck just cranks in the hold harder, though!

Frances bites down on his own lip and throws his weight sideways while moving, tumbling them both through the ropes to the floor!

Both men hit the ground hard as Frances… laughs?!

JR: He just threw himself through the ropes to break the hold… while laughing.

JC: Frances Marigold may be the most dangerous man in the XWF simply because he does not care what happens to his own body!

The two are brawling right on the entranceway, Tuck dragging the trash can from the ring behind him! He dumps it over Frances' head, leaving him staggering and twirling aross across before Tuck winds up for another discus punch that CRACKS right over the metal, denting it from the impact! Frances drops like a sack of potatoes, and it's clear from his twitching arms that Tuck hit across the back of his skull again!

Tuck takes a minute to catch a breath as he taunts to the crowd, grinning as Frances has to crawl across! Tuck turns back to Frances, trying to hold him up as Frances uses a desperate burst of strength to nail him with a flapjack… RIGHT ONTO THE GUARD RAIL ALONG THE ENTRANCE WAY!

JC: Where did that even come from?!

JR: I stopped trying to question this man long ago, Jack!

Both men are slow to get back to their feet, brawling all the way back to the ring now as they just can't stop moving towards each other! Neither man goes down cleanly, both of them leaving a trail of blood and debris behind them on the floor! Tuck rolls Frances back into the ring, and he spots the steel chair still lying where it landed earlier, and picks it up.

He sets it down right in the center of the ring, marking his territory for where to end the match.

JC: Tuck might be looking for the killshot right about now.

JR: Frances is gonna have to dig down deep right about now…

Frances gets to his feet, blood sheeting down the entire back of his skull, grinning like a man who has nothing left to lose. He charges!

TUCK SIDESTEPS IT THOUGH! He boots Frances right in the back of the skull to keep him down as Frances slowly comes back onto his knees!

He looks at Tuck! He looks at the chair! And he flips Tuck off!

Tuck winds up!

A SHOT PUT SLAP COMING IN-

FRANCES COMES TO HIS FEET WITH A SICKENING HEADBUTT!

TUCK STUMBLES BACK, STUNNED AS FRANCES GRABS HIM BY THE WRISTS!

HEADBUTT!

HEADBUTT!

HEADBUTT!

HEADBUTT!

HEADBUTTHEADBUTTHEADBUTTHEADBUTTHEADBUTTHEADBUTTHEADBUTTHEADBUTTHEADBUTT-

THE CROWD IS ROARING AS THEY'RE CHANTING AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS!

"C-T-E! C-T-E! C-T-E!"

JC: BOTH OF THESE MEN MIGHT PASS OUT RIGHT NOW WITH ALL THESE SHOTS TO THE SKULL!

JR: FRANCES IS TRYING TO TAKE TUCK DOWN OR DIE TRYING!

TUCK FINALLY CRUMBLES TO HIS KNEES!

BOTH MEN ARE BLEEDING PROFUSELY NOW! FRANCES SEES THE BLOOD STREAMING DOWN BOTH HIS AND TUCK'S EYES AS HE GRINS!

AND HE ROARS ONE LAST TIME!

AND HE HOISTS TUCK INTO THE AIR, BEFORE FALLING DOWN KNEES-FIRST INTO A PILEDRIVER-

THAT CRATERS TUCK'S SKULL INTO THE STEEL CHAIR!

JC: NO CUSHION PILEDRIVER! NO CUSHION PILEDRIVER! TUCK TAGGART JUST HAD HIS BRAIN SCRAMBLED!

JR: Is this match finally about to end?!

Frances hooks the leg for the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Winner by Pinfall: FRANCES MARIGOLD!

JR: You wanna talk about a barnburner, THAT'S your barnburner!

JC: These two men damn near killed each other to give themselves the fight they were looking for! But it all turned out to be worth it for Frances Marigold with a hard-fought win here tonight!

Frances slumps to his side, a giddy grin stretched over his face as his theme song blares out over the PA system. Ringside medical crew enters inside, taking a moment to look over both men…

Frances shrugs off the help though as he rolls out of the ring! He takes the time to light another cigarette, taking a puff as he raises his fist victoriously into the air! He's barely conscious right about now, but that doesn't stop him from limping his way into the back!

JC: Wow.

JR: Frances is something else, I'll tell you what.

Tuck gets rolled over to the ropes, but as he sees Frances walking off, he comes onto his feet, landing on all fours! He's about to be helped up, but he also shrugs off the help as he wipes some of his stray blood aside, beginning to move to the back himself!

JC: The XWF, folks. The fighters here are as rough-and-tough as they come, and you aren't gonna get action like this anywhere else!

JR: This just gets me excited for what else we got in store tonight, Jack.

JC: You and me both, Joe. Folks, don't change that channel because we'll be right back!

Warfare heads to commerical as Tuck limps off towards the back.

Ring Entrance (PLEASE write one out for use in match/show writing):

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"

JR: Coming to the ring, is REMI STORM!

JC: Remi has a big personality, a lot of snark, and an endless supply of sass…but will that be enough to get it done in tonight’s triple threat match-up?

JR: Remi Storm is EASILY the most attractive wrestler in this match, and that means, I’m hoping she wins!

JC: Well Joe, she’s up against some stiff, SURGICAL competition tonight…

The Time is now hit's as he walks out on stage. He talks to the cameraman and bounces a little. He holds up his “Never Give Up” logo flag and tosses it to the fans. He salutes and runs straight down towards the ring. He 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[/align]

JR: It’s the SURGEON of Thug, John Blade! The one and only, in the flesh!

JC: John Blade’s XWF career got off to a hot start when he advanced to the Quarterfinals of the March Madness tournament- but this triple threat could be his biggest challenge yet!

John Blade
- vs -
Remi Storm
- vs -
Doctor Clown, MD
Triple-Threat

The bell rings and chaos is immediate.
John Blade steps forward with confidence, throwing his arms up, playing to the crowd while they’re chanting his name. He even gives a quick salute, nodding as he hears them roaring.
Remi Storm doesn’t wait—she sprints forward and cracks him with a running pump kick that snaps his head back and drops him to a knee before he can even start.
Doctor Clown, MD rolls into the ring carefully, adjusting his oversized gloves and pulling a stethoscope from his coat. He kneels beside Blade, placing the chest piece against Blade’s sternum, nodding with deep concern.
JC: I’m not sure Doctor Clown knows he’s supposed to be fighting John Blade: it looks like he’s trying to give him a check-up!
JR: It’s well known that Clowns are first and foremost concerned with being funny, and secondarily concerned with doing whatever their particular ‘clown’ thing happens to be. Winning a match? That’s only ever a concern for Tries To Win His Matches Clown!
JC: How the heck do you know so much about Clowns, Joe?
JR: I had Podcast Guest Clown on my podcast one time, and he explained the whole thing!
Remi grabs Clown by the collar and yanks him up—
Monkey flip!
Doctor Clown sails across the ring in a rainbow arc, landing awkwardly on his back. He pops up immediately, gives a thumbs up, then checks his own pulse.
Blade charges—Remi pivots—
Rope flip arm drag!
Blade is sent flying across the ring!
JR: Remi Storm must work out a lot, because she’s tossing John Blade all over the ring like a ragdoll!

JC: And he’s twice her size!
Blade scrambles up, stunned, and swings wildly. Remi ducks under, traps the arm—
Hammerlock DDT!
She spikes him hard and floats into a quick cover—
1!
Doctor Clown dives in—not to break the pin—but to gently push Remi aside so he can continue checking Blade’s pulse.
Remi just stares at him.
Doctor Clown nods seriously, then pulls out a penlight and shines it in Blade’s eyes.
Remi blasts the clown with a standing rising knee strike that folds him in half!
JC: Remi Storm has no time for fun and games! She’s here to whoop ass and take names!
JR: I’ve got some bad news for Remi Storm then: because fun and games are all you get out of a clown!
Blade rolls to the outside, regrouping. Remi wastes no time—she hits the ropes—
Diving crossbody through the ropes!
She wipes Blade out on the floor, both crashing hard against the barricade. The impact echoes across the arena as the crowd jumps to their feet!
Doctor Clown leans over the ropes, shaking his head disapprovingly. He pulls out a clipboard and begins scribbling notes, occasionally glancing up and tutting.
Remi is already back on her feet. She grabs Blade, whips him toward the apron—
Blade reverses—
Remi leaps—
Apron shooting star press!
She rotates perfectly and crashes down onto Blade on the floor. The impact is brutal!
Doctor Clown hops out of the ring now, rushing over with a small medical bag. He opens it frantically and pulls out…a rubber chicken. He pauses, confused, shrugs, and squeezes it over Blade’s chest like it’s supposed to help.
Remi ignores the clown, rolls Blade inside and climbs to the top rope in one fluid motion—
Diving double foot stomp!
Right to Blade’s chest.
She hooks the leg—
1!!

2!!

KICKOUT!!!
Blade powers out.
Doctor Clown slides in and immediately puts an ice pack on Blade…then another on Remi…then one on himself.
Remi shoves hers away.
She grabs Blade’s arm and transitions—
Step-up rolling cross armbar!
She cranks back hard. Blade roars, trying to stack her shoulders—
Doctor Clown slides in, waving his hands frantically.
“NO, NO, NO—this is bad for the ligaments!”
He tries to pry Remi off like he’s separating two patients.
Remi releases and immediately blasts Clown with a backflip kick that sends him stumbling into the corner!
JR: Well that was awfully rude of Remi! The clown was only trying to help!
JC: That clown was trying to stop her from winning this match, Joe!
Clown hits the turnbuckles, slumps down…then suddenly pulls out a tiny reflex hammer and taps his own knee. His leg kicks out, hitting the bottom rope. He nods, satisfied.
Blade charges—
Remi counters mid-motion—
Headscissors takedown into single arm DDT!
Blade is planted again.
Remi kips up, but Blade staggers back to his feet fueled by adrenaline. He swings—
Remi ducks—
Springboard dropkick!
Blade is knocked into the ropes.
Doctor Clown returns, holding a large foam neck brace. He tries to put it on Blade while Blade is standing.
Blade shoves him away—
Remi capitalizes—
Gory lift into knee lift!
She hoists Blade up and drives the knee into him, folding him in half!
JR: Some Doctor he is! He just got his patient torn apart by Remi’s knee lift!
JC: John Blade is not his patient, they’re all opponents in this match!
Doctor Clown applauds enthusiastically, then immediately writes “Excellent impact trauma” on his clipboard.
Remi turns—
Clown honks a horn in her face.
She freezes for a second.
Clown grins wider.
Remi grabs him—
Overhead belly to belly!
He flies across the ring, crashing into the turnbuckles upside down.
He slowly slides down, leaving a squeaky noise from the horn in his pocket the whole way.
Blade stumbles in—
Remi traps the arm across the ropes—
Arm bar using the ropes!
She pulls back violently until the referee forces the break.
Doctor Clown rushes over and tries to “assist” by pulling Blade’s arm in the opposite direction, making it worse.
The referee yells at him. Clown apologizes and offers the ref a sticker.
Blade collapses clutching his arm.
Remi drags him up—
Butterfly backbreaker!
She drops him across her knee and immediately transitions—
Triangle sleeper!
She wraps him up tight in the center of the ring.
Blade fades…
Doctor Clown runs in with a reflex hammer again.
He taps Blade’s knee.
Blade’s leg kicks—right into Remi’s face.
The hold breaks.
Remi glares.
Doctor Clown smiles proudly and gives Blade a lollipop.
Blade throws it away instinctively.
JR: It looks like John Blade and Doctor Clown are bonding!
JC: I’m not so sure about that, Joe!
Remi explodes—
Wristlock-counter bridge & overhead kick!
She snaps through the motion, kicking Blade flush and dropping him again.
Doctor Clown gasps like it’s a breakthrough in medicine.
Remi grabs Blade again—
Single arm stretch!
She wrenches back, targeting the already damaged limb.
Doctor Clown crouches beside them, offering verbal encouragement like a coach.
“Breathe! Breathe through the pain!”
Remi looks at him like she might kill him.
Blade tries to power up—he gets to a knee, then a foot—
Remi yanks him down—
Standing rising knee strike!
Doctor Clown claps again, then quickly checks Blade’s pulse mid-match.
Remi pulls Blade up—
Monkey flip again!
Blade crashes hard.
Doctor Clown tries to catch him…fails…then checks the mat for injuries.
Blade stumbles up again—pure instinct now—he lunges—
Remi sidesteps—
Backflip kick!
Blade drops.
Remi hits the ropes—
Springboard dropkick again!
She wipes him out and keeps moving without pause.
Doctor Clown now has a blood pressure cuff wrapped around his own arm, pumping it wildly.
Remi grabs Blade—
Stormchaser!
Utsuri Goshi—
SWINGING SIDE SLAM!
Blade bounces hard.
Remi turns—
Doctor Clown is right there, offering her a lollipop again.
She slaps it out of his hand.
Grabs him—
Stormchaser!
Utsuri Goshi—
SWINGING SIDE SLAM!
Clown bounces off the mat, completely flattened.
Everyone in the arena is on their feet!
But Remi doesn’t go for the pin yet.
Doctor Clown somehow sits up, dizzy, and begins writing his own symptoms down.
Remi climbs to the top rope slowly and deliberately.
JC: Remi Storm is not just going for a win tonight, she’s trying to make a statement!
JR: Warfare is the perfect place to do it! Go big or go home, that’s what I say!
Doctor Clown crawls toward Blade and starts performing what looks like CPR…on Blade’s arm.
Blade weakly tries to push him away.
Remi stands at the top rope.
She leaps.
Twisting.
Flipping.
Perfect.
TWISTED TEMPEST!
The inverted phoenix splash connects clean on Doctor Clown.
She hooks both legs.
1!

2!!

3!!!

Winner: Remi Storm

Remi Storm rolls off, breathing hard but composed. Remi stands tall as the referee raises her hand in victory. Meanwhile, Doctor Clown gives a weak thumbs up from the mat, then pulls out his stethoscope and checks his own heartbeat before nodding like everything is fine.
JC: An impressive showing tonight from Remi Storm! She took on not only the Surgeon of Thug, but also the Doctor Clown himself!

JR: The sky is the limit for Remi, Jacquinde! The sky is the limit!

JC: Folks, this next match features two up-and-coming XWFers that our fans can’t wait to see more of!

JR: But only one can take the win tonight, Jacuinde! And both are determined to be the one that takes it!

The lights dim. A low, almost imperceptible hum of static rolls through the speakers. The crowd murmurs, unsure if this is intentional or a tech glitch.

A single cold white spotlight snaps on, not centered on the stage but slightly off to the left, like production missed their cue or Rowan Vance wasn’t where they expected him to be.

Then the unmistakable bassline of “Psycho Killer” by Talking Heads kicks in.

The crowd reacts instantly, some cheering, some laughing at the unexpected choice, all of them paying attention.

Rowan Vance steps into the light.

Hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted. Expression unreadable, like he’s listening to something only he can hear.

JC: Rowan Vance! He’s not your typical wrestler; he’s quiet! He’s methodical!

JR: And most of all, he’s effective, Jacuinde! He looked dominant in his debut against Ennui Clown! But is it just beginner’s luck? Or will the pride of Harper’s Ferry claim another victory tonight?

He doesn’t pose, he just starts walking. Slow, steady, deliberate. Sometimes a hand will come out to slap fives or fist bump those in the crowd.

Every few steps, he glances over his shoulder, not dramatically, just a subtle, instinctive check, like he heard a footstep behind him.

The spotlight follows him, but always a fraction of a second late, giving the whole thing a slightly off‑kilter, uncanny rhythm.

As he reaches the ramp, the lighting shifts: a faint blue haze rolls across the stage, giving him a silhouette that looks almost doubled, like someone is walking just behind him.

The crowd can’t tell if it’s a trick of the lights or something else.

Rowan reaches ringside. He pauses as the chorus hits that jittery, staccato vocal rhythm.

He still doesn’t position himself for photo opportunities, doesn’t smirk, just stops, his head turning slightly like he’s trying to locate a sound in the rafters.

Then he slides under the bottom rope with the same quiet, fluid motion he does everything else… As he stands, the arena lights flicker, just once.

Not enough to scream “supernatural.” Just enough to make the audience shift in their seats. Rowan doesn’t react, he’s used to it.

He walks to his corner, leans back against the turnbuckles, and waits, hands still in his pockets, eyes scanning the arena like he’s cataloguing every noise, every movement, every pattern.

The music fades. The static hum returns for half a second, then there's silence, and Rowan Vance is ready.

…

When Booyka 619 hit's he walks out on stage and kneels down on one knee and prays. He gets up and points to the Fans in Pyro fireworks burst open and switch to the other side of the stage in does the same thing in

JC: El Landerson! The Bit Luchador! Among those we see wrestling and aligning themselves with American Storm, Landerson might be the quickest! Might be the most dynamic!

JR: He’s quicker than a bullet’s hiccup, Jacuinde! But he’s got a unique challenge tonight! Landerson needs to be faster than Vance can plan! And that might prove impossible, even for a speed demon like Landerson!

after he was done he slowly walks down the ramp in slaps some little kids high fives and he stops and stares at the kid in hands him his Luchdor Mask to him and heads straight towards the ring and hops on the turnbuckle and pose both fingers in mid air and walks to the other side turnbuckle in does the same thing mid finger in the air in he gets down and wait for his Opponent arrive.

Rowan Vance
- vs -
El Landerson
X-Treme Rules

JC: Ladies and gentlemen, this is an X-Treme Rules match, which means anything goes. No disqualifications, no countouts, and these two competitors could use the entire arena as a weapon.

JR: Vance looks like a guy who’s going to treat this a chess puzzle, Jacuinde. He’s thinking about which wrist he should be leading with in the very first grapple attempt to maximize his chance of success… Meanwhile Landerson looks like he’s trying to figure out how to jam more than one triple backflip into this match!
Rowan Vance stands still in the center of the ring, shoulders relaxed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies the masked figure across from him. His head tilts a fraction, like he’s solving a puzzle. The calm focus on his face suggests curiosity more than aggression.
Across from him, El Landerson bounces lightly on his feet. Even through the mask, the exaggerated nodding of his head and the puffed-out chest scream confidence. He points at himself, then gestures to the ropes and the crowd, soaking in the cheers from fans waving tiny lucha masks.
For a brief moment the arena goes quiet except for the restless hum of the crowd.
Then, the bell rings.

Rowan Vance
- vs -
El Landerson
X-Treme Rules

HIGHLIGHT REEL

The moment the bell rings, Rowan lunges forward, his hands surging toward Landerson!

Landerson’s hands try to meet Vance’s grapple… but Vance’s hand wrap around Landerson’s shoulder aaaaaaand!

WHAM! He snaps off a lightning-fast arm drag, flipping Landerson across the mat! The movement is so quick it almost looks like a reflex!

JC: Wow! The first move goes to Landerson’s opponent, and I never thought I’d say that during an El Landerson match!

JR: Don’t mix up ‘thoughtful’ with ‘slow’, Jacuinde! Yes, Rowan’s a deep thinker, but all that thought goes into achieving victory efficiently! The purity of a well-executed gameplan!

Landerson lands hard, rolling to his feet.

The luchador’s mask tilts toward Rowan and his shoulders tense, clearly surprised. His hands slap his thighs as if dusting himself off after getting chucked across the ring…

Vance doesn’t even smirk at the gesture, quietly observing…

In a fashion that could only be described as ¡‘mucho rapidamente!’, Landerson bursts forward!

He leaps into a…

TILT-A-WHIEL HEADSCISSORS TAKEDOWN, whipping Rowan around and sending him skidding across the mat.

…But Rowan rolls through the momentum.

JC: Impressive agility by Vance! He managed to roll and spread the impact through his body, so he wouldn’t get SMACKED on the mat!

The quiet technician’s eyes widen just a touch, impressed. He nods once to himself as he rises, acknowledging the speed.

But his brow furrows slightly, calculating.

The two competitors circle, before Rowan steps forward again!

Vance feints a lockup, then pivots suddenly into a Russian leg sweep, snapping Landerson backward onto the canvas!

Landerson hits the mat with a slap.

JC: Who would have thought Rowan Vance would be controlling the pace and tempo of this match, Joe?

JR: Rowan Vance IS control! He’s calculating to a fault! And for all of Landerson’s Lucha showmanship, it’s all within the parameters of Rowan’s ability to plan and neutralize!

Landerson sits up immediately, clutching the back of his head. His shoulders rise and fall rapidly as frustration creeps into his body language.

He glances toward the ropes.

A mischievous idea seems to spark.

Landerson sprints, do the sign of the cross as he runs!

JC: Landerson going for a running attack!

JR: He might as well mail Vance his attack plan! Vance has already mapped it out, Jacuinde!

Landerson runs at Vance looking for a…

Handspring Elbow!

…Nope! Vance bends at the waist… and sends Landerson up and over! Back body drop!

…Wait! No! Landerson LANDS on his feet! In an impressive triple backflip!

JC: Hey! Landerson found a way to squeeze in that triple backflip, Joe!

Landerson rebounds off the ropes, plants his feet on the middle rope, and leaps off into a springboard somersault crossbody!

Rowan turns… his eyes widen with surprise!

WHAM! The impact crushes him to the mat.

JR: Oh my GOD! Landerson just turned himself into a human cannonball!

JC: The agility of El Landerson is remarkable!

Landerson pops to his feet, chest puffed up again. He gestures to the crowd triumphantly.

With Rowan prone in the center of the ring, Landerson leaps off the apron, onto the top rope…

SPRINGBOARD LEG DROP!

JR: That could do it if it connects!

…

LANDERSON CONNECTS!

…

With nothing but mat! At the last moment, Vance rolls out of harm’s way!

JC: The key word there was ‘if’, Joe! Landerson went to the high risk district and paid the price!

Landerson’s face contorts in pain, visible even through his Lucha mask… As Vance rises!

He suddenly springs up behind Landerson.

With surgical speed, Rowan hooks the waist and launches him backward with Nightfall Snap, the snap German suplex spiking Landerson’s shoulders into the mat!

Landerson’s legs kick wildly as he lands!

The official drops to count!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-NO! Somehow, Landerson kicks out!

His body curls instinctively, clutching his neck.

His masked head shakes as if trying to clear the stars.

Vance goes for a sweeping kick to clip Landeron’s legs!

But Landerson agilely leaps up and over!

Then his posture shifts again.

Stubborn pride takes over.

Landerson leaps up to the second rope!

He back flips off!

—spinning midair into a diving HURRICANRANA! Rowan Vance gets flipped across the ring, landing awkwardly!

JC: Landerson is climbing back into the driver’s seat, move by move!

JR: Vance is a plotter and a planner and a foreseer! But to foresee what your opponent is going to do next, your opponent has to do know what they’re going to do next! And Landerson has no clue what he’s gonna do except make it look LUCHA AS FUCK!

Vance’s eyes flash with pain as his ribs hit the canvas.

Landerson scrambles up, sensing opportunity! He springs past Rowan!

As Rowan’s face tightens into determination… Slowly pulling himself off the mat!

Landerson does a handspring, rebounding off the ropes!

As Vance spins around to face Landerson!

Landerson goes for another…

HANDSPRING ELBOW!

…But Rowan ducks!

Rowan leaps!

RIVERBEND CUTTER!

The springboard cutter spikes Landerson face-first into the mat.

The crowd explodes.

JR: OH! That cutter was as beautiful as it was devastating!

JC: Rowan Vance continues to demonstrate incredible timing!

Rowan looks up at the crowd for just a moment, before crawling forward for the cov-

…No! Landerson cleverly rolls shoulder-over-shoulder toward the ropes…

Landerson rolls out of the ring, clutching his jaw!

JC: Cunning strategy by Landerson! Buying himself some recovery time!

Outside the ring, Landerson bends forward, hands on his knees.

Frustration radiates from his posture…

From inside the ring, Rowan reaches over the top rope to pul Landerson back into the ring…

But Landerson deadweights himself! Pulling Vance down, throat-first over the top rope!

Vance rebounds back towards the center of the ring!

…Meanwhile, Landerson reaches under the apron… And retrieves…

A STEEL FOLDING CHAIR!

JR: Folks, if you forgot this match was X-Treme Rules, El Landerson did not!

A dangerous grin seems to form beneath the mask.

Landerson grabs the chair and slides back into the ring.

Rowan pulls himself up to his feet slowly…

As Landerson swings…

…

Rowan ducks! The chair whiffs through empty air!

Rowan spins—

Pattern Breaker!

JC: SUPERKICK! SUPERKICK! Rowan Vance caught Landerson square with that one!

His counter superkick blasts Landerson in the jaw mid-motion.

The chair clatters across the mat.

Landerson collapses to one knee…. Some way managing to stay on his feet… But he looks dazed… Like his mind is ready to drop but his body refuses!

Vance traps Landerson’s arm.

He rolls sideways and drags him down.

Rowan twists the arm into a brainbuster setup.

He hoists—

Brainbuster!

Landerson lands violently, his limbs splay out!

The luchador writhes on the mat.

Rowan floats into the cover!

The referee counts.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Winner: Rowan Vance

The bell rings.

Rowan releases the pin slowly.

He rises to his feet, breathing hard but expression steady.

JC: What an incredible X-Treme Rules contest! El Landerson pulled out every stop he could! But Rowan Vance saw those stops and knew exactly how to keep the match under his control!

[white]JR: Man, Rowan Vance is terrifying in that calm way. Like a detective who solves crimes by suplexing people! Except instead of crimes, it’s opponents! And instead of solving them, he beats them with wrestling moves! And instead of a detective he’s a wrestler!

JC: Joe, what did we say about analogies before the broadcast?

JR: …*sigh*...If the analogy ends up with the comparison you’re making being what’s actually happening, think of another analogy…

“Martin had a dream…”

“All my life, I want money and power

Respect my mind or die from lead shower”

The screen glitches to life, a black background with a grey logo and some words:

“The Exiles

Not a choice, a sentence.”

Two spotlights snap on from opposite ends of the stage, on the left: Sebastian Everett-Bryce, dressed in a long black coat. His chin tilts upwards slightly, a wry smile pastered on it - hiding his disdain for this situation. He adjusts the arms on his coat mid-stride, as he makes his way down to the ring. The shining tag-belt glimmers from his waist.

On the right: Isaiah King, no cape or theatrics, simply a weathethered grey leather jacket over some wrestling tights and boxing boots. He glances at the name on the screen and shows visible disgust, he carries the tag belt by the strap.

“Gadamn I feel amazin’”

They converge halfway down the way but don’t acknowledge each other, not a glance or a nod.

JR: These two might wanna pretend they're on the same page for once, but they've got a hell of a job cut out for them tonight!

JC: It's do or die time for the Exiles. They have the potential to get themselves right back on track with a huge win tonight!

The crowd’s noise is deafening - divided and rowdy. Some bounce to the beat, others boo like they’re watching two egos that deserve to eat each other alive.

As the two get to the ring, Isaiah slides through the bottom ropes while SEB makes his way to the stairs for a more graceful entry. They both make their way to the centre of the ring, faces cracking at the discomfort before shifting to accommodate the other.

Isaiah lifts the belt up into the air while Sebastian spreads his coat to draw attention to the other half as their theme slowly comes to a quiet.

Korvayne's 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. Her new Simp is beside her, literally bowing to her as she walks. Korvayne is about to get into the ring… but she stops right before it, pointing to the entranceway.

JR: So… who's Korvayne got up her sleeve as a mystery partner here tonight?

JC: She's gotta be confident about whoever she picked if she went ahead with this match. Korvayne might be too confident for her own good, but you can't say she lacks guts to make this challenge!

JC and JR: WHAT?!

JC: Korvayne just picked one-half of the tag champions as her partner! Even though she's wanting a shot at the tag titles! Does… does this mean she's sided with B.O.B.?!

JR: I don't think so, but… Charlie Nickles seems eager for a round two match with the Exiles!

Charlie rushes out from the back as he maniacally grins at all the people in attendance! He takes one look at Korvayne, nodding with her as they share a look at the Exiles who welcome the chance to try and get a getback here tonight! Kor and Charlie make their way inside of the ring as the music comes to a close!

There's a loud buzzing in the air at Charlie Nickles' arrival, circling around the ring and shouting at both Isaiah and Sebastian! The pair scowl at Charlie before talking over some last-minute strategy, trying to make sure they're on the same page for once here.

JC: I swear, out of all the names Korvayne had to pick, one-half of the Tag Team champions had to be towards the bottom…

JR: Well, Jack, Korvayne clearly wants to try to win at all costs here so she can get her name on the map here in XWF! And really, I'd say picking one of the guys who just beat the two of them is a sound strategy towards that end.

JC: Maybe so, but these two are gonna have a long way towards making this happen…

The starting partners are set!

Korvayne insists on starting things off for now to which Charlie reluctantly agrees, while Sebastian Everett-Bryce takes the lead for the Exiles!

Korvayne and a Mystery Partner(???)
- vs -
The Exiles
Sebastian Everett-Bryce and Isaiah King
Standard Tag

HIGHLIGHT REEL

DING! DING! DING!

The pair circle around the ring, a confident grin on Korvayne's face while SEB is all business. SEB offers for a lock-up, looking to get right into his wheelhouse, which Kor cringes at the thought of getting so close to SEB like that. She hesitates, before a distant wheezing from ringside makes itself known.

"You c-c-can d-do it, my Kween!"

Kor flashes an award-winning smile towards her simp at ringside, flicking her hair for emphasis as she feels a burst of confidence shooting through her. She looks back towards SEB-

-ONLY FOR SEB TO IMMEDIATELY GRAB HER BY THE ARM AND PUT HER IN A WRIST LOCK!

JC: Too slow from Korvayne! You can't take your eyes off the prize in a match like this!

JR: SEB's ultra-focused tonight, Jack. He's got a date with Scoops McGee come Leap of Faith and he's gotta make sure he's got all the momentum heading into it!

Korvayne is wincing in the hold, yelling all sorts of obscenities at SEB as he proceeds to keep the hold locked in tight! He goes backwards, now cinching in a hammerlock to try and keep the pressure on! Kor reaches to the ropes, finding none in sight as she holds onto her shoulder to keep it in one piece!

SEB goes to bring Korvayne down to the ground-

BACK ELBOW CATCHES HIM ON THE JAW!

SEB looks stunned as he blinks!

JC: Korvayne caught him by surprise!

JR: Looks like she's got a mean elbow, I'll tell you that much!

Korvayne manages to successfully twist herself around, grinning as she holds SEB close by the hair, getting a quick and dirty eye rake out of overt view of the referee as she manages to drop the Emperor down with a Jawbreaker!

SEB holds onto his eyes as he falls, and the ref immediately comes in, shouting at Korvayne who innocently holds her hands up as she backs away, talking to the ref!

SEB takes a long look at Korvayne, having to readjust his thoughts on the fly as he slowly nods. He looks to try and get back up, but from behind! It's Korvayne's simp who takes off a sweaty neck tie as he tries to wrap it around SEB's neck!

JC: What is that man doing?!

JR: He's trying to prove himself to his 'Kween' right about now, that's what!

SEB struggles in the hold while Isaiah tries to get the ref's attention! SEB looks at the Simp, managing to get him off with a big right hand that drops the fat boy as he has to cough for air. Charlie is loving the sight of all of this as he enthusiastically claps his hands on the apron. Isaiah, meanwhile, looks closer to a stone slab with how his face doesn't move.

Kor and SEB lock eyes as SEB comes back to his feet, nodding and mouthing 'Alright' to her.

Kor takes the lead this time, looking for a HUGE flying clothesline!

SEB ducks underneath, smooth as butter as Korvayne ends up throwing herself into the nearby turnbuckle! She winces, letting SEB come back up as he measures her in the corner… HUGE roundhouse kick to the gut now!

Korvayne hisses, letting SEB throw another roundhouse! And another! And another!

SEB backs up… measures his target… GOES RUNNING IN FOR A YAKUZA KICK!

BUT KORVAYNE ROARS OUT OF THE CORNER TO HIT SEB WITH A REVERSE STO INTO THE MIDDLE TURNBUCKLE!

AGAIN SEB gets caught by surprise as he holds onto his chin now, gritting his teeth! Korvayne doesn't hesitate as she grabs SEB by the hair again, running out of the corner… HUGE bulldog!

JC: Korvayne's using every ounce of movement and trickery she can try to pull off here, but so far, she's hanging with the big boys.

JR: Korvayne bet on herself when she made this challenge, and so far, I'd say it's paying off!

Korvayne has a narrow upper hand right now, clawing at the skin on SEB's back as he howls!

JC: Korvayne's got those nine-inch nails and she's sinking them right into SEB's skin! You can even see the blood start to come out right about now!

JR: Using anything in the rulebook to try and help her case…

Kor quickly looks for the follow-up, yoinking up SEB from behind and looking for an Atomic Drop, but SEB comes back to life as he backflips out of it! Korvayne's face flashes in a mix of recognition and horror as SEB applies a waist lock of his own!

GERMAN!

SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPLEX!

JC: But you can never fully count out SEB though, Joe!

JR: That's a 'welcome to the XWF' moment if I ever saw one! Korvayne just got dropped on her neck!

SEB goes to grab at Kor, but she shows some rare veteran instinct as she manages to roll out of the ring! The referee stops SEB from going after her as he yells at her to come back into the ring, but Korvayne has other plans! She walks right to her Simp, producing crocodile tears and sniffling as she lets him look over her makeup!

JC: …Does this have any place in this right about now?

JR: Well, she looks clearly rattled, so I don't blame her for trying to get her bearings back right about now!

SEB looks clearly fed up with the ref as he proceeds to begin counting. He's about to go out there himself as-

REVERSE DDT BY CHARLIE NICKLES! THE NICKLEMAN DROPS SEB RIGHT ON HIS OWN NECK! KING GOES AFTER CHARLIE BUT HE SLIDES OUT OF THE RING AND CACKLING!

King scowls at Charlie, before rolling out of the ring on the opposite side. Korvayne has magically evaporated all her tears and looks to try and get back into the ring, but King manages to run his way towards her! He yanks her by the ankle off the apron, before grabbing HER by the hair now and throwing her back into the metal guard rail!

JR: Now how's that for a sneak attack, Jack?

JC: About even after that bastard Charlie Nickles dropped SEB like a sack of potatoes!

JR: Careful on how loud you call him that, Jack! …He might think you're complimenting him.

Korvayne's Simp isn't going to let this grave injustice go unanswered, though! He immediately pounces on Isaiah King, taking him down as he throws wild blows down onto him! Isaiah quickly manages to cover up before any real damage comes, before using his strength to throw him off with a monkey flip!

King is back on his corner, calling for the tag to SEB as he quickly moves himself over! Charlie is still on the outside, but throws the dazed Korvayne with force back into the ring, right by his own corner so he can forcibly tag himself in!

TAG!

JR: The Nickleman's been looking to try and get his here! No doubt he's wanting to try and end the Exiles after everything!

JC: It clearly wasn't enough just taking their titles away from them…

Charlie grabs SEB by the ankle and forcibly drags him right back into the middle of the ring! SEB looks back at Charlie with anger and quickly goes for an enzuigiri!

Charlie ducks!

SEB pushes him off!

Charlie bounces off the ropes as SEB comes back to his feet!

Running Big Boot!

Is ducked!

Charlie turns around RIGHT INTO A ROUNDHOUSE FROM SEB!

Charlie takes the blow though and moves to give SEB a huge elbow!

Kick!

Elbow!

Kick!

Elbow!

Kick!

Elbow!

Kick!

Elbow!

Kick!

Elbow!

Kick!

Elbow!

Kick!

Elb- Kick! Kick! Kick!

JC: SEB is finding that extra bit of energy right about now!

JR: Charlie can take a beating though, that's for sure. His pain management is one of the best!

Charlie ROARS though as he winds back for a huge HEADBUTT right between the eyes of SEB! He staggers back, cross-eyed…

BEFORE HE TAKES CHARLIE DOWN WITH A DROPKICK!

CHARLIE'S DOWN!

SEB CLAWS HIS WAY TO ISAIAH!

REACHES FORWARD…

TAG!

ISAIAH KING COMES BACK IN AS CHARLIE GETS BACK TO HIS FEET AND A BARRAGE OF HEAVY RIGHTS AND LEFTS COME DOWN TO HIS GUT!

CHARLIE GETS BACKED INTO THE CORNER AS KING CONTINUES HIS ASSAULT! THE REF TRIES TO SEPARATE THE TWO!

He manages to come right in between the two, prying them apart…

CHEAP OPEN-PALMED SLAP BY CHARLIE!

JC: It's like Charlie's trying to incite that house on fire right now!

JR: Well. A good champ doesn't back down from any challenge.

JC: Something tells me it's a bit more complicated than that…

Charlie is running around the ring to lead King with him! King is in a dead sprint to try and take Charlie's head off with everything he's got! He levels Korvayne's Simp with a rolling elbow before he continues his chase!

He runs right into Korvayne though!

STANDING DROPKICK RIGHT TO THE JAW!

ISAIAH DOESN'T FALL THOUGH!

Korvayne pops back up, getting a running start to hit another dropkick!

Isaiah staggers back, but he still hasn't fallen!

Korvayne doesn't miss a beat though as she runs for the barricade, hopping off of it to deliver a springboard dropkick! That one finally drops Isaiah as he's out on the outside, trying to get his bearings back!

But that just allows Korvayne to go onto the top turnbuckle, sizing up her mark as she slowly rises, ignoring the ref shouting at her to get down from there…

MISSILE DROPKICK RIGHT TO ISAIAH KING!

JC: IT'S DROPKICK CITY OUT HERE, FOLKS! Korvayne had to practically throw out the kitchen sink to try and drop Isaiah King there!

JR: Korvayne's a damn good teammate, though! Look at Charlie!

Sure enough, Charlie is in the middle of the ring, yawning and posing as he's lying down, managing to catch his breath after a long run around the ring. He checks an imaginary time on his watch as the ringside camera slowly zooms in on him.

Charlie notices as he grins down the lens.

"Don't you guys know what time it is?"

He chuckles.

"It's time to kill the Exiles!"

JC: Well, I don't like the sound of that.

JR: This goes deeper than just beyond the squared circle though, Jack. This is a matter of family at this point, for both sides really!

Charlie rolls out of the ring, ignoring Korvayne's writhing body as he yanks up Isaiah, driving him into the metal guard rail as he lays on some heavy shoulder thrusts right to the midsection. Isaiah hacks and heaves, feeling the punishment his ribs are taking as Charlie keeps him softened up.

Charlie rolls Isaiah back into the ring, watching as he tries to collect his bearings… he won't get the opportunity to collect himself fully though, as Charlie comes off the ropes and hits a HUGE leg drop!

JR: That's Hogan-style, brrrrrrrrrother!

JC: 275 lbs of damage crashing down on Isaiah King's neck and chest right about now. It's no wonder that he's having trouble breathing in the ring.

Charlie goes for the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

JR: Isaiah stays alive… for now.

Isaiah is stuck in enemy territory right now, held up against the turnbuckle by Charlie Nickles! He gives a boot to the midsection, causing Isaiah to fall down as he starts delivering a flurry of boots to him!

But he's not stopping! The referee begins to have to count Charlie out!

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-

TAG!

In comes Korvayne! She slides in, takes one look at Isaiah King, and shrugs! SHE STARTS POUNDING AWAY AT HIM WITH BOOTS, TOO!

JC: This is like a gang assault right now! King doesn't even have a chance to catch his breath!

JR: You gotta bring a lot to keep the King down though, Jack! Brilliant teamwork by these two!

The referee begins to try and count Korvayne out now as she continues hammering King with boots!

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-

TAG!

In comes Charlie now! He picks up right where Korvayne left off with more boots!

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-

TAG!

Korvayne now!

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-

TAG!

Charlie now!

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-

TAG!

Korvayne again!

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-

Korvayne runs off the ropes, moving away from the staggered King as she hits a BEAUTIFUL falling clothesline to him! Korvayne slides out from between the first and second rope as she does so, landing on her feet on the outside of the ring as she poses right next to the coughing and wheezing Isaiah!

JR: She's beautiful, she's smart, she's athletic as hell, she's got tons of sass, what more can you ask for?

JC: A good sense of morals?

JR: I think she knows all about morals, she just doesn't give a damn enough to follow them.

Kor comes back to Isaiah though, grabbing him by the back of his head and literally jamming it right into the middle turnbuckle! He grabs his head, protecting it as he rolls right back to the center of the ring!

SEB is trying to will the crowd into giving Isaiah enough energy to try and make the tag, but Korvayne is right there! She stands right over Isaiah, paintbrushing him with a huge slap across the face! Another comes! And Korvayne-

ISAIAH PUSHES HER LEGS OUT FROM UNDER HER! KORVAYNE FALLS INTO A HUGE GUILLOTINE CHOKE! THE FANS GO ABSOLUTELY INSANE AS ISAIAH KING COMES BACK TO LIFE OUT OF NOWHERE!

JC: GUILLOTINE! GUILLOTINE! THAT'S SOMETHING STRAIGHT OUT OF HIS ORIGINAL FINISHER, THE G.O.D.!

JR: Korvayne's feeling the pressure right about now! She wanted top billing, these are the dangers that come with it!

Kor tries to reach for the ropes! They're too far as King cinches the hold in deeper! She continues to flail, ignoring the crowd telling her to tap and the ref asking if she gives up! She's trying to reach for it, but she's just not there!

BUT WAIT! KORVAYNE'S SIMP ON THE OUTSIDE! HE PUSHES THE ROPE FURTHER INTO THE RING!

AND RIGHT INTO KORVAYNE'S GRASP!

THE REF IS NONE TOO PLEASED BUT THAT'S A ROPE BREAK NONETHELESS AS THE FANS CONTINUE TO BOO!

JR: Well, Korvayne clearly planned for those pressures! Good on her!

JC: And Isaiah King looks none too pleased right about now! Deservedly so!

King reluctantly releases the guillotine on Korvayne, the two slowly having to push themselves back to their feet…

Another slap from Korvayne!

BUT KING ABSOLUTELY DECKS HER WITH A HAYMAKER!

KORVAYNE SOMEHOW DOESN'T GO DOWN THOUGH?!

SHE RUSHES BACK TO DELIVER A BACK ELBOW WITH THE LAST OF HER STRENGTH!

BUT NOW IT'S KING WHO DOESN'T FALL AS HE ROARS!

JAB! CROSS! JAB TO THE GUT! HOOK UPSTAIRS! UPPERCUT DOWNSTAIRS! JAB! JAB! HAYMAKERRRRRRRRR! BOTH FIGHTERS COLLAPSE IN THE CENTER OF THE RING AGAIN AS THE FANS GO CRAZY!

JC: Those punches were LIGHTNING!

JR: Took a lot to take Kor down, but can Isaiah capitalize on it?

Both Korvayne and Isaiah are moving towards their own corners! Scratching! Clawing to try and make the tag!

…

DOUBLE TAG!

THE ROOF COMES UNGLUED AS BOTH SEB AND CHARLIE FORCE THEIR WAY INSIDE ONE MORE TIME!

CHARLIE HITS A RIGHT HAND TO START! GOES FOR A SECOND- SEB BLOCKS IT!

FOREARM BY SEB CREATES SEPARATION! QUESTION MARK KICK HITS CHARLIE RIGHT ON THE SHOULDER AS HE HISSES!

SEB RUNS THE ROPES- BACK ELBOW BY CHARLIE- SEB DUCKS UNDERNEATH- CHARLIE TURNS AROUND-

BOOT TO THE GUT!

DDT!

AND THE ARENA IS AT A FEVER PITCH AS

SEB

KIPS

UP!

HE HOLDS HIS POSE, DRINKING IN THE APPLAUSE AS HE BOWS!

JC: The Star of Stage and Screen knows how to give a show!

JR: King held out for this long, now it's up to him to try and seal the deal!

Charlie comes right back up to his feet, gritting his teeth as he tries again for another right hand!

SEB catches the arm though! ARM TRIANGLE SUPLEX TAKES CHARLIE DOWN TO THE MAT AS HE BOUNCES OFF!

Charlie's irate as he comes back to his feet in the corner, but SEB is right there! He forcefully drags Charlie out, nailing him with a beautiful belly-to-belly!

Pure rage drives Charlie to his feet one more time as SEB sweeps behind the Nickleman, looking for a German!

BACK ELBOW BY CHARLIE AS HE FIGHTS HIS WAY OUT! SEB STAGGERS BACK! CHARLIE COMES ALIVE AS SEB MOVES BACK ON THE REBOUND! SIDEWALK SLAM!

JC: At any moment in a match, Charlie Nickles can turn the advantage right into his favor! He'll stop at nothing to win!

JR: And that's exactly what earned him the win last time to get the tag titles! He just needs to finish the job he started back at March Madness!

Charlie hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Charlie looks pissed off as he slaps the mat and argues with the ref! But that leaves his back open as SEB wraps his legs around Charlie!

EMPEROR LOCK!

JC: BOTH EXILES ARE TOO DAMN GOOD AT LOCKING IN SUBMISSION HOLDS OUT OF NOWHERE!

JR: CHARLIE CAN'T BELIEVE IT! LOOK AT HIM TRYING TO CLAW AT SEB'S ARM!

IT'S NO USE AS SEB TIGHTENS HIS GRIP ON THE HOLD!

CHARLIE'S FACE TURNS A BRIGHT RED! BUT HE'S NOT GIVING UP EVEN AS HE'S BEING CHOKED OUT!

THE REF IS IN CHARLIE'S FACE TO ASK IF HE'LL GIVE UP!

BUT BOTH SIDES ARE HOLDING FIRM!

JC: SOMETHING'S GOTTA GIVE HERE, FOLKS!

KORVAYNE BREAKS THE HOLD WITH A LEG DROP!

JR: SHE JUST CHANNELED HER PARTNER WITH THAT LEG DROP, BROTHER!

SEB staggers his way back to his feet, but Korvayne is still right there with a CODEBREAKER!

JC: Leonardo's Lament hits to perfection!

JR: Like an artist pouring her soul into her work!

SEB staggers his way back into the corner, and Isaiah King is fired up as SEB stretches his hand out for him!

TAG!

KING MOVES IN!

RUNNING GUT PUNCH TO CHARLIE!

HOOK TO KORVAYNE!

CROSS TO CHARLIE!

A FLURRY OF JABS TO KORVAYNE!

JC: Isaiah King is willing to take on both fighters here!

UPPERCUT TO CHARLIE!

HAYMAKER TO KORVAYNE!

DUCKED!

KORVAYNE PUSHES ISAIAH BACK INTO CHARLIE AS SHE ESCAPES ONTO THE RING APRON!

CHARLIE TURNS ISAIAH AROUND THOUGH!

HOOKS THE ARMS FOR THE DEVIL HOOK DROP!

ISAIAH TWISTS OUT OF IT THOUGH!

BOOT TO THE GUT!

TWIRLS AROUND!

DISCUS PUNCH PRACTICALLY KNOCKS CHARLIE OUT!

JC: THAT'S THE ROYAL VERDICT!

JR: Isaiah can't pass this opportunity up!

Charlie's already rolling into his corner though! Korvayne grits her teeth as she reaches over the top rope!

TAG!

IN COMES KORVAYNE!

ISAIAH TRIES TO GO FOR A KNEE, BUT SHE SIDESTEPS!

BOOT TO THE GUT!

EVENFLOW DDT-

KING TWISTS OUT!

HE'S GOT KORVAYNE FROM BEHIND!

DRAGON SLEEPER LOCKED IN!

JC: I SAID THE EXILES WERE TOO DAMN GOOD AT LOCKING IN HOLDS OUT OF NOWHERE! KING'S GOT THE ROYAL INQUISITION LOCKED IN!

JR: IS KORVAYNE ABOUT TO TAP OUT?!

KOR STRUGGLES IN THE HOLD, BUT SHE DOES NOT BUDGE! SHE TRIES TO KEEP HERSELF COOL AND CALM AS SHE WALKS FORWARD! BUT THAT'S EASIER SAID THAN DONE AS KING APPLIES ALL HIS WEIGHT DOWN ON HER!

JC: CAN KORVAYNE PULL OFF A MIRACLE HERE?!

JR: NO SHAME IN TAPPING HERE! THE ROYAL INQUISITION HAS ENDED SO MANY MATCHES BEFORE!

BUT ON THE APRON! IT'S KORVAYNE'S SIMP! HE'S GOT HIS HANDS ON THE MIDDLE ROPE AS HE TALKS SMACK TO KING!

KING KEEPS THE HOLD LOCKED IN BUT HE TALKS RIGHT BACK TO THE SIMP!

THE REF YELLS AT HIM TO GET OFF BUT IT'S A GOOD ENOUGH DISTRACTION FOR HIM TO PUSH THE MIDDLE ROPE FORWARD!

KORVAYNE KICKS HER LEG ONTO IT, BOOT PRESSED ON IT INSTEAD OF ABOVE IT LIKE SHE WANTED!

SHE INSTINCTIVELY KICKS BACK ON THE ROPE WHICH TAKES HER RIGHT BACK INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE RING!

BUT SHE ROLLS OVER AND PUTS HER WEIGHT ON ISAIAH'S SHOULDERS TO PIN HIM TO THE MAT!

JC: SHE JUST COUNTERED THE ROYAL INQUISITION!

JR: IF THAT'S NOT A MIRACLE HERE THEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS!

BUT THE HOLD IS STILL APPLIED AS THE PIN IS IN PLACE!

ONE!

SEB AND CHARLIE BOTH RUSH INTO THE RING!

TWO!

THEY TACKLE EACH OTHER AND START TO BRAWL AS THEY CLEAR THE WAY FOR THEIR PARTNERS!

THREE AS KORVAYNE TAPS OUT?!

JR: WOAH!

JC: KORVAYNE DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH TO GIVE! VETERAN INSTINCT COULD HAVE SAVED HER!

JR: BUT SHE GOT THE THREE-COUNT!

JC: BUT SHE TAPPED OUT!

The referee looks at both sides, King letting go of the hold as him and Korvayne both raise their hands!

He takes a moment…

BEFORE HE COUNTS IT AS A DRAW!

Winner: DRAW!

JR: WHAT?!

JC: Korvayne just went the distance with three Universal Champs in the ring and came out the other side in one piece! But the Exiles haven't died yet either!

Korvayne’s simp is close behind her, telling her how great of a job she did despite the draw.

JC: Korvayne’s simp looks completely overjoyed after this massive draw in the tag division!

JR: As he should be! Korvayne just accomplished something incredible, and now, she’s positioned herself as a potential contender to the tag-team championships!

But like a snake slithering in the grass, The Nickleman is slowly moving into position behind them.

Out of nowhere, Charlie grabs Korvayne’s simp before spinning him around and delivering a stiff kick to his gut! The simp keels over in pain, and Charlie hooks his arms-

INTO A DEVIL HOOK DROP!

JC: OH MY GOD!

The simp’s head slams against the canvas, bouncing off the mat with a sickening thud as Charlie delivers his devastating finisher!

The crowd gasps in shock as Korvayne turns around to see the wreckage of her simp left in Charlie’s wake.

Korvayne’s hands immediately fly up to her mouth in horror!

JR: Get out of there, Korvayne! Charlie has that evil look in his eye again!

Charlie scrambles up after the Devil Hook Drop, reaching out to grab Korvayne- but she’s too quick! She ducks away from The Nickleman before rolling under the bottom rope, and making a beeline straight up the ramp!

Korvayne’s speedy flight up the ramp leaves Charlie eating her dust!

JC: Smart move from the rookie! She got out of there before things really got ugly!

JR: But wait a second! Who’s that spilling out from the back?!

JC: Oh no….oh no!

IT’S THE BROTHERHOOD OF BASTARDS!

JORDAN PENN, JENNY MYST, AND MR. OZ ARE ALL STANDING AT THE TOP OF THE RAMP!

AND MR. OZ HAS A STEEL CHAIR!

WHILST JORDAN PENN WEARS BOTH TAG CHAMPIONSHIPS AROUND HIS WAIST!

JC: They’re cutting off Korvayne’s escape route!

JR: This might be bad. Parents, turn off the TVs now- or at least, cover the eyes of your children!

Korvayne, ever the quick-thinker, tries to leap over the barricades and escape into the crowd-

But Jenny Myst won’t let her!

Jenny grabs Korvayne by her hair before yanking her back towards BoB!

And Mr. Oz cracks her face with the chair!

Korvayne drops to her knees, shrieking in pain!

But her screams just make Jordan Penn smile.

Jordan grabs Korvayne before spinning her around into THE WHIP CRACK (rainmaker clothesline)!

Korvayne is folded like a basket of laundry!

And as if that were the cue-

Jenny Myst and Mr. Oz start sprinting towards the ring, where SEB and King are still recovering from their hellacious match!

As Jenny Myst and Mr. Oz slide into the ring, Jordan Penn takes one last glance at Korvayne’s crumpled body. He smirks in her direction before adjusting both the tag belts as they sit around his waist.

JC: It looks like Korvayne was just collateral damage! They’re heading towards The Exiles!

JR: “Collateral damage”? I don’t think so, Jacquinde! They wanted to send Korvayne a message: but it seems they want to send The Exiles to the grave!

Inside the ring, Jenny Myst and Mr. Oz immediately get to work on Isaiah King and his partner, Sebastian! Sebastian and Isaiah try to fight back, but they’re worn down after their grueling tag match!

Mr. Oz delivers stiff chair shots to Isaiah King as he tries to crawl out of the ring. Meanwhile, Jenny Myst has Sebastian taking a seat in the corner- and taking a beating from her boots!

The booing of the crowd is ear-shattering.

A production assistant rushes in when Jordan finally enters the ring, handing out microphones to BoB members like candy bars. Sebastian and Isaiah lay lifeless in the ring, clearly beaten into submission by Jenny and Oz.

That’s when the fun begins.

Jenny Myst: “Y’know…”
Her voice cuts through the noise clean. Smooth. Controlled.
“Every single time I walk out here… I hear the same thing.”
She gestures lazily toward the crowd with the mic.
“Boo. Cry. Whine. Complain. ‘Jenny, you’re a bitch.’ ‘Jenny, you’re too much.’ ‘Jenny, why do you ruin everything?’”
Then her smile sharpens.
“And my personal favorite… ‘Jenny, why can’t you just let people have their moment?’”
She glances down at Sebastian… then over at Isaiah.
Then back to the camera.
“Because this?”
She lightly taps her boot against Sebastian’s shoulder.
“This is the moment.”
A small chuckle escapes her, dry and humorless.
“You people don’t understand the difference between a moment… and a memory.”
She crouches now, lowering herself beside Sebastian, grabbing a handful of his hair—not violently, just enough to lift his head slightly.
“This?” she says, almost softly. “This is what people remember.”
She lets his head drop.
Stands back up.
“Not your cute little underdog victories… not your ‘aw shucks we tried our best’ bullshit…”
Her tone shifts—harder now.
“They remember who ended you.”
The crowd roars louder, but there’s an edge now. Less playful. More uncomfortable.
Jenny turns, pacing slowly across the ring, stepping over Isaiah like he’s not even there.
“And Korvayne…”
She stops.
Looks up the ramp where Korvayne tried to escape.
Her smile returns—but this one’s colder.
“Oh sweetheart… don’t think we forgot about you.”
She tilts her head again, almost mockingly sympathetic.
“You had your big night, didn’t you? Third match. Even wrestling The Exiles to a draw is a big win for someone as new as you. Big celebration. You were out here screaming at the camera like the world finally noticed you…”
A small pause.
Then she leans forward slightly.
“…and then we did.”
The crowd reacts—loud, angry—but there’s a ripple of tension underneath it.
Jenny nods slowly, like she’s confirming something to herself.
“You felt that, didn’t you?”
She gestures up the ramp.
“That moment when your little emotional support puppy got spiked into the mat like he was nothing?”
A small shrug.
“That wasn’t personal.”
Beat.
“…at first.”
Now she starts pacing again, slower.
“But then you ran.”
She stops.
Dead center of the ring.
“And that’s when it became personal.”
Her voice drops slightly.
Not louder.
Just… sharper.
“You see, we don’t chase people who stand their ground.”
She glances over at Jordan Penn, then toward the ramp again.
“We hunt the ones who run.”
Another pause.
She lifts the mic closer.
“And you ran right into us.”
A faint laugh.
Almost like she can still see it playing out.
“The look on your face when Oz cracked you with that chair…”
She exhales through her nose, shaking her head slightly.
“Priceless.”
Then—
Her tone shifts again.
Less amused.
More… deliberate.
“And now?”
She spreads her arms slightly, indicating the carnage in the ring.
“This is what happens when you cross paths with the Brotherhood of Bastards.”
She points down at Isaiah.
“He thought tonight was about redemption.”
Then Sebastian.
“He thought tonight was about proving something.”
Then, slowly, she points up the ramp again.
“And you thought tonight was your breakout.”
Her finger lowers.
Her voice drops to almost a whisper.
“It was.”
Beat.
“…just not the way you wanted.”
The crowd noise swells again, but now there’s a tension hanging in the air. A weight.
Jenny lifts her head, looking straight into the hardcam now.
No smile.
No theatrics.
Just cold certainty.
“We don’t care about your stories.”
A step forward.
“We don’t care about your momentum.”
Another step.
“We don’t care about your ‘future.’”
She stops.
Right at center.
“We decide what survives here.”
Behind her, Jordan adjusts the tag titles on his waist.
Mr. Oz taps the chair lightly against the mat.
The visual says everything.
Jenny nods once.
“And right now?”
She glances back at the bodies.
Then up the ramp.
Then back into the camera.
“You’re all just… examples.”
Jenny looks down at Sebastian, and points a deliberate finger at him.
“If you’d be so kind, Mr. Oz: show them what I mean.”
She lowers the mic as Mr. Oz clutches the chair and raises it, aiming to bring it down right atop Sebastian’s head!
But then,
SUDDENLY!

BETSY GRANGER’S THEME MUSIC HITS! SHE BURSTS ONTO THE STAGE WITH THE REVOLUTION CHAMPIONSHIP AROUND HER WAIST!
JC: “Oh my God, it’s the Impossible Traveler! The Wayward One! The Revolution Champion…..it’s BETSY GRANGER!
JR: “And she’s here to save SEB and King!”
Betsy Granger slides into the ring in a flash, taking BoB by complete surprise!
She delivers a backflip kick to Charlie Nickles that sends him spiralling out of the ring!
Then, Jordan Penn charges in with a clothesline:
But Betsy ducks it!
Betsy hits the ropes before coming back and hitting Penn with a dropkick that sends him flying between the ropes!
Jenny Myst charges in to get a grip on Granger, but Betsy’s heated!
She headbutts Jenny Myst, sending her flying into the corner turnbuckle!
JC: “Betsy Granger is taking all of BoB on by herself! She’s gone feral!
JR: “Love is a powerful thing in mixed martial arts, Jacquinde!”
But Betsy’s momentum suddenly comes to a crashing halt as Mr. Oz blindsides her with a big chairshot to the skull!
Betsy drops to the mat!
Oz gets a wicked grin, and goes to raise his chair again-
BUT SEBASTIAN CATCHES IT FROM BEHIND, RIPPING IT AWAY FROM HIS GRIP!
JC: “Sebastian’s up! Sebastian’s back up!”
And rising right behind Sebastian?
ISAIAH KING!
JR: “And so is The Princeling!”
Sebastian smacks Mr. Oz upside the head something fierce! Mr. Oz stumbles backwards as Sebastian and Isaiah help Betsy get back to her feet.
Meanwhile, outside the ring: Charlie, Jenny, and Jordan are all collecting weapons from beneath the ring!
Then, Charlie, Jenny, and Jordan all slide into the ring one-by-one, right behind a staggered Mr. Oz.
Charlie holds a baseball bat wrapped in barbed-wire.
Jenny holds a steel pipe.
And Jordan Penn holds a sledgehammer.
Then, all the members of BoB indulge in a shared grin as they slowly advance towards Isaiah and Betsy, with Sebastian standing in front with a steel chair.
JR: “We have a good ol’ Mexican standoff here now!”

JC: “This isn’t a Mexican stand-off…this is a set-up! BoB has the numbers, and the weapons!”
JR: “But Betsy has the heart of a warrior, Isaiah King has a chip on his shoulder, and Sebastian has a steel chair!”
The two crews stare at each other from mere feet away.
Sebastian pounds his steel chair on the mat, begging for BoB to come get some:
But no one in BoB moves an inch…
Not until…

JC: “Wait, who the heck is that?!”

JR: “THAT’S ASHER FUCKING HAYES!”

Asher Hayes suddenly appears on the stage as his entrance music blares throughout the PA system! A cinematic amount of pyro goes off across the arena, and Asher Hayes aura farms at the top of the ramp for a moment. Everyone’s eyes are on him.

JC: “Asher Hayes is here to save the day and even the odds!”

The crowd goes wild as Asher Hayes suddenly darts down the ramp, sliding into the ring: and positioning himself directly in the middle of the two opposing forces.

BoB in front of him, and The Exiles (+1) behind him.

Asher Hayes barks at the Brotherhood, clearly putting himself in between them and their would-be victims!

JR: “Asher Hayes is a madman, putting himself in the middle of this gang war! He’s got guts, I’ll give him that: but challenging The Ex-Corporation ain’t a smart idea!”

JC: “Asher doesn’t have a choice, he won’t let this injustice carry on! Someone needs to stand up to them and help The Exiles survive this!”

Asher Hayes runs his hands through his hair, getting ready for a fight….

When, suddenly….

HE TURNS AROUND AND SPEARS SEBASTIAN EVERETT-BRYCE!

The crowd is shocked as BoB moves in on Isaiah and Betsy, overwhelming them with brute force!

Isaiah and Betsy fight back, but the odds are too great! Baseball bats and steel pipes slam against their bodies!

JC: “NO! NO! WHY…..WHY ASHER HAYES, WHY?!?!”

JR: “People used to ask me, “who the fuck is Asher Hayes”- but not, everyone’s got to be wondering: “WHY THE FUCK IS ASHER HAYES HELPING B.O.B.?!”

JC: “This is not the time, Joe! There’s an assault happening in that ring!”

Sure enough, the Brotherhood of Bastards was beginning to take great liberties with Betsy, Isaiah, and Seb!

Blood and tears flowed in the ring, until-

JR: Oh. Shit.

JC: Business is about to pick up here, folks!

FOR THE SECOND TIME TONIGHT, THE HOUSE OF HARDCORE MAKES THEIR WAY ONTO THE STAGE AS THE TYSON EVENTS CENTER IS ON FIRE!

SCOOPS MCGEE!

DICKIE WATSON!

GAME GIRL!

AND AMBER MANSLEY!

JC: Scoops was talking before how he was itching for a fight for his hometown crowd, and he’s about to get his wish!

JR: Dickie’s gotta be careful though, he’s got a match with Gator right after this!

JC: I don’t think they care right about now!

A staredown ensues with both sides at the top of the ramp! Charlie Nickles is frothing at the mouth and tells Scoops to come bring it! Asher Hayes is beckoning them forward! Jenny and Amber lock eyes with each other, jaw-jacking from afar!

AND THE HOUSE ADVANCES TOGETHER!

THEY STORM INTO THE RING AND TAKE THE FIGHT RIGHT TO B.O.B.!

FISTS ARE FLYING EVERYWHERE!

ASHER AND DICKIE GO STRAIGHT FOR EACH OTHER LIKE BATTERING RAMS!

AMBER TAKES DOWN JENNY BEFORE THE TWO BEGIN TO ROLL AROUND ON THE MAT!

MISTER OZ TRIES TO TAKE GAME GIRL’S HEAD OFF WITH A CHAIR SHOT AS SHE MANAGES TO DUCK UNDERNEATH!

AND CHARLIE AND SCOOPS ARE THROWING BOMBS AT EACH OTHER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING!

JC: It’s chaos! It’s carnage! It’s pandemonium! These groups HATE each other, Joe!

JR: The House is strong, but they’re also outnumbered!

Jordan Penn manages to sneak his way out of the ring in the middle of the fight, quickly ducking down under the ring as he pulls out a KENDO STICK! The crowd boos as he manages to roll his way back into the ring, CRACKING Amber Mansley right on the back as she winces! Jenny Myst doesn’t hesitate as she comes back to her feet, slamming her boot right into her jaw!

And the numbers quickly begin to snowball! GG takes a kendo shot to the ribs as Mister Oz winds up with the steel chair… CRACK right to the back!

GG rolls back to the middle of the ring alongside Amber, both Scoops and Dickie now also dealing with their own handicapped situations with heavy shots beginning to add up onto the two as they’re forced back-to-back! B.O.B. is surrounding the lot of them like vultures!

JC: The Exiles and Betsy are down! Something’s gotta give right about now!

JR: They picked a fight they’re having trouble trying to make good on! They gotta-

JR: …What the Hell?

JC: We haven’t heard that music in ages! Is that…?

THE FANS ARE BUILDING IN ANTICIPATION BEFORE HE RUSHES OUT FROM THE BACK!

IT’S COREY FUCKING BLACK!

AND HE’S SPRINTING TOWARDS THE RING AT TOP SPEED!

JC: HOLY- Folks, we haven’t seen Corey Black since War Games! And he’s got one hell of a history with both SEB and Charlie both!

JR: He’s frothing at the mouth right now!

Corey rolls into the ring to immediately take Charlie down with a running V-Trigger knee as the fighting breaks out one more time!

Everyone begins to break off into their own separate fights as Asher Hayes MANAGES TO DROP SCOOPS MCGEE WITH A SPEAR!

JC: OUT OF NOWHERE!

JR: I think he just made the Universal Champ mad!

Scoops keeps Asher down as he grits his teeth, laying some heavy rights as Asher manages to keep his guard up!

Mister Oz tries to bulldoze his way through to help out Asher and Charlie before Dickie manages to take him down with a crisp drop toe hold! Game Girl looks to follow up with a big stomp before she has to pivot to deal with Jenny Myst pulling on her hair!

Amber gets her getback on Jenny though with a HUGE roundhouse leading to the two pushing her out of the ring!

Charlie manages to FINALLY pry Corey Black off of him, but he’s not stopping any time soon! Black nails Charlie in the sternum as he’s forced back, only to bump into Asher being shoved behind him by Scoops!

Jordan Penn sneaks up behind Scoops to nail him with the kendo stick again…

ONLY TO EAT AN EMPIRE KICK AS SEB COMES BACK TO HIS FEET!

JC: SEBASTIAN JUST DAMN NEAR TOOK PENN’S HEAD OFF!

JR: How’s that for a family feud?!

Charlie and Asher realize they’re the ones outnumbered now as the Exiles come back onto their feet!

Scoops lunges for Charlie as he grabs him by the wrist!

CATTLE PROD-!

CHARLIE DUCKS UNDERNEATH AS ASHER HELPS HIM ROLL OUT OF THE RING! THE CROWD BOOS AS B.O.B. BEAT A HASTY RETREAT UP THE RAMP!

And the House turns their attention to the Exiles who are staring bloody murder at them! Corey and SEB waste no time getting in each other’s faces in the middle of the ring, jaw-jacking at each other! Scoops puts himself between the two, yapping at SEB now as Betsy comes to her boyfriend’s defense!

Soon, all of both groups are there to talk trash at each other as tensions run high between all eight men and women in the ring!

JC: Folks… business might be about to pick up soon. It’s been a while since I’ve seen some group warfare quite like this.

JR: You can just feel the electricity in the air right now, Jack. When Scoops and SEB meet at Leap of Faith, you already know the sparks are gonna fly between them!

Both HoH and the Exiles turn their attention to B.O.B. going behind the curtain as Warfare fades to commercial.

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

The opening riff of Gardenia plays and as the drums kick in Gator walks out onto the stage and examines the crowd, with a nose flick he beats his chest three times before walking down the ramp with his head held high and climbs the steps stopping at the turnbuckles to look around at the crowd once more before wiping his feet on the apron and entering the ring and relaxing in his corner.

JR: Fans showing their appreciation as the former Undefeated TV Champion, former Universal Champion, former Tag Team Champion and Living Legend makes his way to the ring looking like he’s on business.

JC: Got to think about Gator’s rust here, he was a contender 10 years ago and besides making sparse appearances here and there he hasn’t been in active competition in a long time and his welcome home match is against one of the toughest fighters we have.

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Gator
Last Man Standing

Dickie stretches against the ropes leaning down as he glares at Gator who is relaxed in his corner staring a hole back into Dickie.

JC: Gator looks in pretty decent shape, considering.

JR: He looks like he’s packed on a few pounds, most likely going for more constitution over speed.

JC: Nice way of putting it.

DING! DING! DING!

The two leave their corners and begin circling each other, Dickie feigning a dive in as he slides a knee across the mat and Gator keeps his guard up.

As the fans begin to pick up, chanting for each man in turn the pair stop briefly and absorb the atmosphere. Gator’s eyes are locked on Dickie as Watson looks around momentarily before he snaps his head to Gator and the two push into a collar and elbow tie-up.

Gator quickly gains the advantage with a stiff palm up into Dickie’s jaw and wrenches his head down into a chinlock and bowls him over with a Snapmare! As Gator goes to for the follow-up kick, Dickie dashes to his side and pulls Gator’s heel, causing him to land flat on his back.

Dickie hits the ropes and leaps into a senton but Gator gets his knees up which cracks Watson’s back and he bounces off in pain.

Gator scrambles to his feet and rushes Dickie, falling on top of him into a full mount where he begins delivering stiff right hooks into Watson’s face!

After two solid hits, Dickie has the wherewithal to block the third and he sticks a boot in Gator’s gut to push him off but Gator grabs Dickie’s wrist and twists as he’s pushed off, pulling Dickie with him and turning his body into a Kimura!

But Watson’s too fresh and manages to fight his way out and slip away from the hold.

The pair get to their feet and Gator goes for a grapple but Dickie fights back, throwing up a knee and catching Gator’s jaw, causing him to stumble back and Dickie follows up with a spinning roundhouse but Gator ducks under the strike and as Dickie lands he twists back and clatters the back of Gator’s head with a Pele Kick!

Gator drops to one knee from the Pele, shaking out the cobwebs, but Dickie is already pushing forward. He grabs Gator by the head and fires a sharp elbow into the side of his skull, then another, trying to keep the veteran rocked. Gator absorbs the shots and swings a wild hook, but Dickie slips under it and snaps a low kick into Gator’s calf, forcing his leg to buckle.

Dickie hits the ropes again, building speed, and comes back with a running dropkick that sends Gator rolling across the canvas. Watson pops back to his feet, clutching his back for a moment from the earlier knees, but he doesn’t slow down. He charges Gator in the corner, leaping into a high knee—only for Gator to sidestep at the last second. Dickie crashes into the turnbuckles and stumbles backward.

Gator grabs him around the waist and hauls him up into a release German suplex that sends Dickie flipping through the air and landing hard on his stomach. Gator stays down for a moment, breathing heavily, then forces himself up and stalks Dickie, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him into a short‑arm lariat that drops Watson flat.

Dickie tries to push up, but Gator clamps onto his arm again, twisting it behind his back and driving a knee between his shoulder blades. He tries to force Dickie down into another submission attempt, but Watson rolls through, kicks his legs out, and pulls Gator face‑first into the middle turnbuckle.

Gator stumbles back holding his nose, and Dickie uses the ropes to spring up into a quick enzuigiri that clips the side of Gator’s head. The shot drops him to one knee again. Dickie steps in, hooks Gator’s head, and snaps him down with a tight DDT that plants him in the center of the ring.

Both men lie there for a moment, breathing hard, before Dickie crawls to the corner and pulls himself upright. Gator rolls to his stomach, pushing up slowly, stubbornly refusing to stay down. Dickie sees him rising and charges, going for a running knee—but Gator lunges forward and tackles him around the waist, driving him into the mat and hammering short forearms into Dickie’s ribs.

Dickie twists his hips and manages to shove Gator off, both men scrambling to their feet again, sweat flying as they square up once more, battered but still ready to swing.

Gator steadies himself after the scramble, jaw tight, eyes locked on Dickie.

Watson circles out to the side, shaking the feeling back into his arm, but he doesn’t get long. Gator steps in fast and swings a heavy forearm that clips Dickie across the cheek and forces him back a step. Dickie fires back with a sharp kick to the thigh, then another, trying to chop Gator down before he can build momentum.

Gator bodies the kicks, grabbing Dickie around the waist. Dickie tries to twist free, but Gator muscles him up and drives him backward into the corner. Dickie’s spine hits the turnbuckles and Gator unloads with short, stiff body shots, each one forcing the air out of Watson’s lungs. Dickie slumps, but he still manages to throw a quick elbow that catches Gator on the eyebrow and forces him to back off.

Dickie pushes out of the corner and swings a fast right hand, but Gator ducks under it and hooks him from behind. He tries for another German suplex, but Dickie flips through and lands on his feet, stumbling slightly from the impact. He rushes Gator from behind, but Gator spins and catches him with a sudden spinning backfist that stops Dickie cold.

Watson stumbles back and drops to a knee, dazed. Gator sucks air, then grabs Dickie by the wrist and yanks him forward into a short‑arm knee strike to the ribs. Dickie folds over, gasping, and Gator doesn’t hesitate—he pulls Dickie in again and this time hoists him straight up, turning and driving him down with a spinebuster that shakes the ring.

Gator stays on his knees after the impact, hunched over, one hand pressed to his chest as he tries to steady his breathing. He forces himself upright, staggering slightly, sweat dripping from him. Dickie rolls onto his side, clutching his back, struggling to get air.

Gator grabs the ropes, pulling himself up fully, chest rising and falling in heavy bursts. He looks down at Dickie, knowing he needs to press the advantage, but his legs feel heavier with every step. Still, he pushes forward, dragging Dickie up by the head.

But Dickie throws a kick up and nails Gator’s head, throwing him back before Dickie kips up and sprints into Gator with a dropkick into Gator’s sternum!

Gator crashes into the and the wind leaves his lungs as Dickie rushes in but Gator dodges as Watson leaps but catches himself, landing on the middle rope and clutching the ropes.

Dickie goes to springboard off but Gator runs in and leaps-

JC: VERY APE!

Gators sends his elbow into Dickie’s temple and he slumps forward briefly before crashing down onto the mat.

JR: Weird that a guy named Gator has a move named Very Ape.

JC: Elbow to the temple, it’s very ape behavior, Joe.

Gator hangs an arm over the ropes as he breathes heavily while the ref comes in to count Dickie.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Dickie’s eyes blink rapidly as his hand hovers over the bottom rope.

FOUR!

FIVE!

Gator goes to the opposite corner and sits on the middle turnbuckle, lifting his mask to expose his mouth as he sucks in air.

SIX!

SEVEN!

Dickie grabs the middle rope.

EIGHT!

And pulls himself up!

Dickie steadies himself on the ropes, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on Gator as the veteran drags himself off the turnbuckle. Gator wipes his mouth, drops the mask back into place, and steps forward—slow, heavy, but stubborn. Dickie meets him head‑on, firing a sharp kick into Gator’s thigh, then another, then a third that forces Gator to shift his stance.

Dickie snaps into motion, grabbing Gator’s wrist and yanking him forward into a wheelbarrow position—then flips up and over, snapping Gator down with a wheelbarrow armdrag that sends the bigger man tumbling across the mat. Gator rolls through, but Dickie is already airborne, springboarding off the middle rope into a corkscrew forearm that slams into Gator’s jaw and drops him flat.

Gator pushes up, dazed, but Dickie doesn’t give him a second. He sprints in, leaps, and drills Gator with a running knee to the side of the head. Gator collapses to his hands and knees, breathing hard, sweat dripping off his chin. Dickie hits the ropes again, building speed for another strike—

—but Gator lunges forward out of pure desperation and grabs Dickie’s ankle mid‑stride.

Dickie’s momentum jerks him off balance, and Gator twists hard, wrenching the leg sideways. Dickie crashes to the mat clutching his knee, teeth clenched as pain shoots up his thigh. Gator doesn’t let go—he twists again, harder, forcing Dickie to kick wildly to break free. Dickie scrambles backward, dragging his leg away, but the damage is done. He tries to stand and his knee buckles for a moment before he catches himself on the ropes.

Gator crawls toward him, letting out a ragged cough and forces himself upright, he looks around at the crowd for a moment as the fans begin to boo him and are fully behind Dickie. Watson limps forward, refusing to give ground, and swings a sharp elbow that cracks against Gator’s jaw. Gator stumbles, and Dickie follows with a stiff forearm, then another, then a spinning back kick that lands flush despite the bad leg.

Gator reels, and Dickie forces himself into motion, ignoring the pain. He grabs Gator by the head, runs up the turnbuckles, and flips backward—nailing a sudden, clean Spanish Fly that plants Gator in the center of the ring.

Both men hit hard, but Dickie rolls through, clutching his knee, forcing himself upright on one leg as the referee begins the count.

ONE!

TWO!

Gator’s fingers twitch.

THREE!

FOUR!

He rolls to his side, gasping.

FIVE!

SIX!

Gator pushes up to one knee, shaking his head.

SEVEN!

He forces himself upright, swaying, barely standing.

EIGHT!

Dickie limps toward him, jaw tight, ready to strike again despite the pain shooting through his leg.

Dickie pushes fully upright, shaking out the bad leg, and Gator forces himself off the ropes, both men meeting in the center of the ring.. Dickie fires first - a sharp elbow to the jaw. Gator answers with a forearm. Dickie hits back. Gator hits harder. The crowd rises as the two stand nose‑to‑nose, trading stiff shots, each strike echoing through the arena.

Dickie snaps a knee up, catching Gator in the ribs. Gator doubles over, but he still swings a hook that clips Dickie’s temple. Dickie stumbles, then lunges forward with a palm strike that rocks Gator back a step. Gator answers with a short headbutt that sends Dickie reeling. Both men sway, breathing hard, sweat dripping, refusing to fall.

Dickie breaks the rhythm first. He spins, catching Gator with a back kick to the gut, then grabs Gator’s wrist and yanks him forward into a sharp European uppercut. Gator staggers. Dickie hits the ropes, limping but fast, and rebounds with a flying forearm that finally drops Gator to a knee.

Dickie doesn’t stop. He grabs Gator by the head, runs up the turnbuckles, and flips backward-

JR: MILLENIAL FALLOUT!!

But he drops the bridge, his leg buckling underneath him. He rolls through, clutching his knee, but forces himself up again.

Gator rises slowly, shaking out the cobwebs. Dickie sees him upright and charges-

JC: RISE TO GLORY!!!

Gator eats a curb stomp and falls flat.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Dickie favors his leg as the fans chant his name.

FOUR!

FIVE!

Gator shakily pushes himself up, dazed.

SIX!

SEVEN!

He stands, barely, leaning on the ropes before drunkenly stumbling forward egging Dickie on.

Dickie wipes sweat from his brow, limps back a few steps, then bursts forward. He leaps onto the middle rope, springboarding into a moonsault—

—but Gator surges forward and catches him mid‑air, arms locking around Dickie’s torso as the crowd explodes.

Gator twists Dickie’s arms into position. The fans stand to their feet, sensing the end as Gator lifts—

JR: THREES AND SEVENS!!!!

Gator goes for the cross arm piledriver!

But Dickie reacts in a flash!!!

JC: COUNTERED!!!!

He wraps his legs around Gator’s head, and whips backward, twisting his entire body. Gator’s grip breaks as Dickie snaps him down with a sudden, brutal poison Frankensteiner, spiking Gator onto the mat.

Gator flips over and lands flat on his back, motionless for a moment as the arena erupts.

Dickie lies on the mat beside him, chest heaving, the referee already starting the count as both men struggle to move.

ONE!

TWO!

Dickie crawls to the ropes.

THREE!

FOUR!

Gator pulls his torso upward slowly with great effort, wheezing as he does.

FIVE!

SIX!

Dickie’s foot slips from under him as he gets a hand on the middle rope.

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

DICKIE WATSON IS UP!

NINE!

AND GATOR FOLLOWS!

The crowd is on their feet, roaring as both men breathe deeply, covered in sweat as they glare at one another.

The chants grow to a crescendo, as the momentum builds.

And both men sprint forward!

GATOR THROWS AN ELBOW AIMING FOR DICKIE’S HEAD!

BUT IT MISSES AS DICKIE JUMPS INTO THE AIR WITH A ROAR OF PAIN AND ADRENALINE!

JC & JR: CALAMITY INSURANCE!!!!!!!

Dickie stomps down on Gator’s chest and drives him down into the mat!

Gator’s body raises slowly, the breath leaving his lungs!

Dickie’s foot crumples awfully into Gator’s torso as he screams in agony and rolls off cradling his leg.

The ref counts again!

ONE!

JC: What a match! Listen to these fans!

TWO!

The crowd go fucking berzerk!

THREE!

Dickie rolls onto his front, biting down the pain.

FOUR!

Gator lays motionless, his chest heaving.

FIVE!

JR: Both men gave it their all, they fought like the Uni was on the line!

SIX!

Gator fingers tremor.

SEVEN!

Dickie grabs the bottom rope.

EIGHT!

Gator’s arm slowly bats at the air!

NINE!

As Dickie pulls himself up to his feet! Using the ropes as a crutch!

TEN!

And Gator’s hand falls back down!

WINNER - DICKIE WATSON!

JC: Ladies and gentlemen, this next contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen-minute time limit… and it is for the XWF TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP!

The house lights die. Instantly. The arena plunges into a total, suffocating B L A C K.

Silence hangs in the dead air—a held breath—before the world DETONATES.

SONG: "BLACK RAINBOW" by SPIRIT BOX

♫ YOUR HEART ♫

♫ IS A HOLE ♫

Violent STROBES shatter the dark—a disorienting, epileptic stutter. Words flash on the video screen in rapid, subliminal bursts.

♫ I CAN SEE FOR MILES AND MILES! ♫

♫ BEYOND THE BLACK RAINBOW! ♫

Color-tinted haze bleeds out across the stage floor. The camera sweeps the crowd, catching the frenetic energy. The arena plunges to black again. The music builds, grinding upward.

♫ EX-IT! ♫

CRIMSON SPOTS bleed onto the stage. Through the thick haze, a silhouette stands motionless. Head down. Shoulders rigid.

The lens pushes in aggressively. She lifts her head.

YELENA GORGO. She wears a nightmare grin—arrogant, cruel, and sexy. Intricate blonde braids pull tight against her scalp, gleaming under the red light, woven with crimson thread that looks like fresh sutures.

JC: Yelena Gorgo! The Nightmare! The Final Boss! The Neck Collector!

JR: Gorgo’s got a ton of nicknames and they’ve earned every one of them! The match they won at March Madness to become Number One Contender? It was less like an athletic competition and more like watching raw meat getting fed through a grinder!

JC: Solomon Kline fought with all he had to score the upset, but Yelena Gorgo was just too dominant. Gorgo won this opportunity, and they were all too eager to cash in their shot… but can they claim the belt?

♫ INSIDE THE MIDNIGHT YOU'VE BEEN SLITH-ER-ING ♫

♫ YOU FORM THE COLUMN'S … DE-FIC-IEN-CY ♫

♫ I LATCH ON TO YOU … WE … RE-PRESS-UR-IZE ♫

♫ IN-FRA-RED … PAR-A-DISE ♫

The bass drops out. A suspended moment of tension. Yelena stops dead. She stares at nothing, eyes wide, that grin horrifyingly fixed.

The beat DROPS.

♫ UPWARDS! FEEL THE PRE-SSURE! ♫

♫ ABSCESS! HEART IS A HOLE! ♫

A fist slams to her chest—perfectly timed to the percussion—as she mouths the scream.

Desperate hands reach over the barricade during the approach to the ring, but they are ignored. The camera angle drops low, transforming her into a giant against the lights, her focus locked entirely on the canvas.

♫ DISSOLVE! DISPLACE! REJOICE! REPEAT! ♫

♫ NO PRESSURE HERE! ADMIT DEFEAT! ♫

Yelena hits the apron and leaps—terrifying athleticism—landing on the edge. She grabs the top rope and leans back, crouching low into a broken, spider-like pose. Her gaze sweeps the arena like a predator surveying the night's menu.

♫ DISSOLVE! DISPLACE! REJOICE! REPEAT! ♫

♫ NO PRESSURE HERE! TO MEET YOUR SOUL! ♫

She explodes to her feet in the center of the ring. Arms thrown wide. Chest heaving. She screams the lyric to the rafters:

♫ BEYOND THE BLACK RAINBOW! ♫

A scream tears from her throat, directed straight at the rafters. In one fluid motion, she spins, hooks the top rope, and leans back over it—hanging upside down—staring backward at the crowd with that frozen, beautiful, PSYCHOPATHIC grin.

…

The opening riff of The hangman's body count by Volbeat starts to play throughout the arena as the lights dim. Several red and purple laser lights envelope the stage as Matthias Syn casually walks through the curtain. As he steps onto the stage, he stops and acknowledges the crowd by stretching both arms forward while touching his balled up fists together.

JC: Matthias Syn! The Revolutionary! Syn is a man who knocks over established stars just to prove they’re frauds… at least according to him!

JR: You gotta imagine it felt uniquely good scoring the TV Title… not just because he beat an XWF Legend, the sort of corporate puppet that Syn loves to decimate… but over Centurion! Literally the winningest, old guard-iest fella in XWF lore!

JC: But he’s got a whole different challenge tonight, Joe! Gorgo isn’t someone who impresses with reputation or accolades. They impress by popping opponents’ heads like zits.

JR: Syn has a track record as champion though… The last time he had a belt around his waist, he held that belt for 252 days! Can he exceed that? If he can score the win over Gorgo… that’s gonna send a message to the rest of the locker room: No one’s taking this belt from Matthias Syn any time soon!

After several seconds he begins to nonchalantly walk down the ramp towards the ring, not allowing the fans to touch him. He slides under the bottom rope, jumps to his feet and poses on the ropes. As he drops down from the ropes he takes off his red leather shearling coat, hands it to the ring girl and sits on the middle turnbuckle awaiting his opponent.

JR: Oh man, Jacuinde… this one is fascinating. Matthias Syn is chaos wrapped in conspiracy theories and athletic ability. But Yelena Gorgo? That’s like trying to outmaneuver a tank! A tank that knows judo!

JC: Gorgo looked absolutely dominant in her number one contender’s match for the Television Title against Solomon Kline. But Syn is the champion—and he’s proven he can survive situations most wrestlers can’t escape.

JR: Survive is the key word, man. Because if Gorgo gets ahold of him… it’s gonna look like a National Geographic documentary about a lion catching a gazelle.

…

The referee raises the Television Championship belt for the crowd before handing it to the timekeeper.

The bell rings.

XWF Television Championship
Matthias Syn ©
- vs -
Yelena Gorgo
15 Minute Time Limit

HIGHLIGHT REEL

15:00

14:59

14:58

Matthias Syn’s lips curl into a crooked grin as he slowly raises both hands, fingers splayed…

Gorgo smiles a wide smile back…

JC: Both these two give me the creeps…

JR: Not sure if they’re both playing mind games, or they’re both actually excited to face their opponent!

JC: Normally, I’d say anyone excited to face Matthias Syn should be committed to a mental institution… But, I’m terrified of Yelena Gorgo thinking I’d ever say anything bad about them!

With a sudden burst of cocky defiance, Syn lunges forward!

Yelena Gorgo doesn’t flinch.

Her face remains completely still, like marble.

Syn leaps into a…

Flying Leg Lariat!

But Gorgo’s eyes narrow a fraction.

Her shoulders turn just slightly.

And as Syn’s boot hurtles through the air!

She catches him mid-flight!

JC: Holy HELL! The strength of Gorgo!

JR: Hell is right! Holy s not! This strength is UN-holy!

Gorgo LAUNCHES HIM WITH A RELEASE NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!

Syn sails through the air and SLAMS into the mat like he’s been thrown by a catapult.

JC: GOOD LORD! That throw nearly launched the champion into orbit!

JR: That’s Olympic judo power, Jacuinde! She didn’t just counter that attack—she weaponized Syn’s entire body!

14:37

14:36

14:35

Gorgo goes to grab Syn by the skull and peel him off the mat…

But Syn’s hands move quickly, breaking Gorgo’s grip…

And latching onto her skull! He brings himself down! And they collide skull-to-jaw

JAWBREAKER!

…

Gorgo looks unaffected!

JC: Holy HELL! What is Gorgo even made of, Joe?!?

A smile flashes across Gorgo’s face.

Syn’s jaw tightens.

Defiance burns in his expression.

They go to grapple Syn!

But Syn slips, ducking under!

As Gorgo spins… Syn leaps!

Off Gorgo’s knee!

AND BOOTS THEM IN THE SKULLL!

STEP-UP ENZUIGIRI!

The kick CRACKS against the side of Gorgo’s head.

The crowd gasps.

JC: Syn caught her clean!

JR: That’s the agility advantage right there!

Gorgo drops onto their back!

Syn quickly stacks the challenger onto their shoulders!

ONE!

TW-Gorgo kicks out at One!

JC: Interesting strategy by Syn here, going for a quick pinfall! I’ll remind our viewers that, as the champ, Syn retains if no one wins within fifteen minutes! It’d actually serve him to create distance between himself and the challenger!

JR: I’ll remind you, Jacuinde, that no one wants to be in the ring with Yelena Gorgo any longer than they have to be!

13:51

13:50

13:49

Syn moves to grapple Gorgo by the skull…

But Gorgo is already defiantly rising up from his pin attempt…

JC: Syn barely had time to capitalize off that kick! If he doesn’t act now, he’s gonna be basically starting from square one!

Syn suddenly spins and sprints to the ropes—

As Gorgo’s face tightens with cold focus.

Syn springs off the ropes, and rushes back with a…

Running Somersault Neckbreaker!

…

But, with eerily precise hand movement…

Gorgo’s arms shoot forward.

She catches Syn again.

Another RELEASE NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!

Syn flips high overhead and CRASHES down spine-first.

JC: Another northern lights suplex! That’s TWO for Yelena Gorgo!

JR: Do you think Gorgo’s gonna hit Syn with thirty-three suplexes just to mess with him?

13:13

13:12

13:11

Gorgo peels Syn off the mat, before shoving him against the corner…

Gorgo reels back their arm for a KNIFE-EDGE CHOP!

KERACK!

WOOOOOOOOOOOO! goes the crowd!

Syn doubles over, looking agonized!

Gorgo shoves the champ back against the ropes, reeling their arm back for another ch-

HAAAAAAAWK! PTOIE! Syn manages to summon up enough spittle to catch Gorgo right in the face!

JC: …Holy shit. Matthias Syn might actually have a death wish!

JR: Syn doesn’t fear anything or anyone! …I think doing that to Yelena Gorgo is legally a suicide attempt!

…Gorgo doesn’t wipe away the spit running down their forehead… Instead, they furiously surge forward, looking to choke the life out of Syn!

…Syn manages to roll under Gorgo’s grip!

Gorgo spins around!

…Straight into a

SUPERKICK!

The strike blasts Gorgo square in the jaw!

The crowd erupts!

JC: Oh my GOD! The champ is doing it! That spit gambit threw Gorgo off enough for Syn to strike!

Gorgo’s head snaps sideways, as they rotate towards the turnbuckle…

Syn surges forward, not hesitating this time!

He runs by, grabbing Gorgo by the skull as he…

Runs up the turnbuckle pad!

ACID DROP! He drives Gorgo’s skull against the mat!

The crowd leaps to their feet!

JC: He might have it! Syn might retain after that one!

Syn hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

TH-NO! Gorgo shoves Syn off so hard, he rolls twice into the ropes on the side of the ring!

JC: Gorgo clearly still has a lot of juice left in the tank!

JR: But Syn’s doing what he has to do to escape with his belt, Jacuinde! Frustrate Gorgo! Prevent them from winning until the time runs out!

12:02

12:01

12:00

As Gorgo shoves themself up to their feet… Syn wraps them in a guillotine from a closed guard!

JC: Syn trying to control the pace of this match, trying to keep Gorgo from another burst of strength!

Gorgo tries to force Syn back against the turnbuckle!

But Syn agilely backs up the turnbuckle! Going for a…

Leaping Tornado DDT—

—but Gorgo’s arms clamp around his waist mid-rotation.

She plants her feet… Scoops Syn into a waistlock…

And launches him backward with a GERMAN SUPLEX!

Syn lands high on his shoulders, bouncing violently off the mat.

JC: Syn just folded in half!

JR: That landing will compress your entire spine, man!

Syn rolls toward the ropes, clutching his neck.

Blood already trickles down from a split along his hairline.

Gorgo watches him crawl.

Their breathing steady.

Their eyes clinical.

Syn exhaustedly forces himself up to one knee…

Gorgo is without mercy

They Spin…

And DRIVES HIM DOWN WITH AN EMERALD FROSION!

Syn’s head and shoulders spike into the mat.

JC: Oh my GOD!

JR: That’s neck compression city!

Syn lies motionless for a moment.

Then instinctively tries to crawl away.

Gorgo’s eyes narrow.

Cruel intent flickers across her face.

She drags him up by the hair.

Syn’s face contorts with pain.

Gorgo’s knee suddenly chambers.

CRACK.

A brutal Running Knee Strike slams into Syn’s skull.

Blood sprays across the canvas.

The champion collapses again.

JC: That knee split him open!

JR: Dude that’s fight-ending power right there!

Syn weakly lifts his head, blood streaming down his face.

Defiance still burns in his eyes.

He lunges desperately—

Latching his arms around Gorgo’s hips, trying to take the challenger off their feet!

…But Gorgo’s too strong!

Gorgo’s expression flashes with annoyance.

She snatches him off his feet!

Another NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!

This time she doesn’t release.

She bridges.

ONE—

But she lifts him again instead.

Her face now fully enjoying the punishment.

She kicks her legs over.

FLOAT OVER NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!

Syn crashes again.

The crowd roars.

Gorgo floats over again—

A THIRD NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!

This time she holds the bridge.

ONE!

TWO!

Syn barely jerks a shoulder up.

JC: The champion somehow survives!

JR: That’s pure survival instinct!

JC: Survival instinct implies Syn’s kicking out to survive, Joe! I think this is the opposite! Syn’s such a tough bastard, he’d rather be dead than lose!

JR: Unfortunately, he’s against the one opponent that might be willing to kill if it means victory!

10:14

10:!3

10:12

Syn lies gasping.

Blood pooling beneath his face.

Gorgo slowly stands.

Her expression shifts to something theatrical.

Almost regal.

She grabs Syn’s arm.

Syn’s eyes widen with dread.

Gorgo drops suddenly—

Rolling through into the WAKI-GATAME ARMBAR!

She traps the arm.

Her hips begin to rise.

Syn screams.

Gorgo arches higher—

Her body forming a terrifying bridge.

BLACK RAINBOW.

The elbow joint bends violently.

Syn’s face contorts in agony.

His free hand slams the mat.

TAP! TAP! TAP!

The referee calls for the bell.

Winner and NEW XWF Television Champion: Yelena Gorgo

The bell rings.

Gorgo releases the hold slowly.

Gorgo rises to their feet, breathing calmly.

The referee hands them the Television Championship.

They raise it high overhead.

JC: We have a new champion! Yelena Gorgo just dismantled Matthias Syn!

JR: That wasn’t just a win, Jacuinde… that was a statement. Yelena Gorgo took a champion known for chaos and agility… and broke him down piece by piece.

JC: Syn showed incredible resilience… but tonight, Yelena Gorgo proved they may be unstoppable.

JR: Gorgo is the XWF Television champion, which means they defend their belt every Warfare… but who the Hell is gonna be stupid enough to even WANT to enter the ring with Gorgo?!?

After that gruelling contest, Matthias Syn sits in the ring on his knees, catching his breath. Gorgo has headed up the ramp and through the curtain to the back.

JR: What a hellacious match that was! Congratulations to the Television Champion! We'll see you all.. wait what's this?

JC: WHOA WHAT?!

The lights in the arena have begin shutting down, section by section, with electrical failing sounds accompanying them. The fans are confused, they all watch as one by one, everything seems to go dark.

JC: What in the hell could this be?!

Matthias Syn stands up, walking as best he can over to the ropes to lean on them and get a better look. Soon enough, it is completely dark. And silent, beyond the fans murmured confusion.

JR: I don't like this, this seems very odd. Are we still on? Is there a storm outside or something? I know this is Iowa but it can't be bad enough out there to shut down a whole arena?

Without warning two spotlights hit the entrance. Everyone's attention turns but it isn't a person that emerges, no, the screen illuminates and displays some words;

"BUILD A TOWER FROM MY PAIN
WEAR MY SILENCE AS YOUR CROWN"

The crowd looks on as does Matthias, as each word comes into focus. Syn mouths each word and as he finishes, he seemingly blows off whatever's happening with a dismissive hand wave, turning back toward the middle of the ring where he's stopped cold. The fans in attendance all at once cheer and shriek as the visage standing before them.

JC: WHAT ON EARTH

A man stands there, draped in dark cloths around his head and shoulders, coming together near the waist as a robe of sorts. That's not the unsettling part.. upon this man's face seems to be.. another man's face. As if a face was cut off and is now being worn as a mask. Matthias Syn begins screaming at the shape, generating no movement nor anything from the shrouded individual beyond their cold steel gray eyes peering out from behind the visceral mask.

Syn goes to step forward and stops when he sees movement - out of the sleeve, something reflects what little light the spotlights on the stage is giving. But it continues, a long metal blade has slid out of the sleeve. Syn goes to turn and leave but in a flash the shape has him by the shoulder, the blade is dropped but both hands are now free to grasp Matthias Syn by the head from behind in a sleeper and arch back dropping Syn on the top of his head with a sleeper suplex! The crowd comes alive!

JR: That was brutal! Who the hell is this?!

The cloth robe drapings come off revealing a tattooed torso and black trunks, it's still just a bit too dark to make out but this person is on Syn in an instant, the suplex sent him over backward and up onto his knees but his entire existence is wiped out with a swinging back elbow to the face!

JC: Could it be…

The shape stands, electricity running through their veins, shoulders, arms and chest all rising and falling with emotional deep breaths, occasional grunts from behind the mask. They stand over Matthias Syn, who is looking up at the ceiling - they bend forward, eye to eye with the man on the ground, staring deep into his soul and put their fingers under the chin of the mask. Slowly, methodically, the face is peeled off and their identity is revealed.

JR: THAT'S..

Before the sentence can even be finished, they arch back and drop a devastating dropping forearm to turn Syn's lights out.

JR: ..COREY BLACK?!

Everyone in the Tyson Center has come unglued as the King of the Wrestlers takes a couple of steps toward the machete on the mat. He grabs it, looking at the light glint off the edge of the blade. As he's taken his time to grab this, he turns his attention to Syn and again, as fast as can be, is down on one knee with Matthias sitting up, Corey has him in a seated abdominal stretch and he rains down an elbow to the head!

JC: Oof, those hammer and anvil elbows have put many men down, I don't know if Syn is even conscious at this point.

Another elbow, and another - but then Corey stops, looks out into the crowd and like an absolute maniac slowly begins running the length of the machete across Matthias Syn's head! The look in Corey's eyes is that of a crazed lunatic, blood begins leaking from the wound he has caused, Syn is now come to from the pain being delivered and begins flailing to try to get free but Corey has him locked down with his free arm and legs. Corey reaches into his boot and pulls out A HUGE BUNDLE OF WOODEN SKEWERS.

JR: NO NO HE WOULDN'T

COREY BLACK SLAMS THE SKEWERS INTO MATTHIAS SYN'S HEAD AND BEGINS HAMMERING THEM DEEPER IN WITH ELBOW SHOTS! The crowd is wincing, some can't even look on at the violence being produced! Syn is screeching, but Corey quickly shuts it down! He spins out, scoops Matthias up onto his shoulders, runs forward and executes a devastating Burning Hammer sending broken wooden skewers all around the corner of the ring!

JR: Ugh brutal! Maybe someone should stop this..

Syn is out of it, he is drug under the bottom rope and to the apron, peeled off the mat and leaned backward against the ropes. Corey grabs his jaw and points his face toward the screen once again. The words drift and change..

"I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN
I DID NOT BELONG HERE
BUT YOU
DO NOT BELONG

ANYWHERE"

Syn's eyes grow wide as Corey picks him up once again and this time leaps off in a stunning display, dropping Syn down on his head with a Burning Hammer off the apron.

JC: MAN I don't know what to even say, goodnight folks.

Corey sits on the floor, looking down at his foe who is not long for this world and without even a word, slips the face mask back on - this time it is clear it is how own face - as the show fades to black.

THANKS TO

OUR MATCH WRITERS
Liam Desmond
'Big' Dick Lichter
Atticus Gold
Peter Principle

OUR SEGMENT WRITERS
Scoops McGee
Kieran King
Charlie Nickles
Corey Black

AND EVERYONE WHO RP'D!

]]>

April - 13 - 2025

LIVE FROM TYSON EVENTS CENTER

SIOUX CITY, IOWA

Scoops McGee Coronation Ceremony!

The Crowning of the new Universal Champion and King of the XWF, Scoops McGee!
Sponsored by the Trillionaires!

Jordan Penn
- vs -
Betsy Granger
Singles

Frances Marigold
- vs -
Kentucky “Tuck” Taggart
Unsanctioned Street Fight

John Blade
- vs -
Remi Storm
- vs -
Doctor Clown, MD
Triple-Threat

Rowan Vance
- vs -
El Landerson
X-Treme Rules

Korvayne and a Mystery Partner(???)
- vs -
The Exiles
Sebastian Everett-Bryce and Isaiah King
Standard Tag

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Gator
Last Man Standing

XWF Television Championship
Matthias Syn ©
- vs -
Yelena Gorgo
15 Minute Time Limit

Scoops McGee Coronation Ceremony!

The Crowning of the new Universal Champion and King of the XWF, Scoops McGee!
Sponsored by the Trillionaires!

Jordan Penn
- vs -
Betsy Granger
Singles

Winner: Betsy Granger

Frances Marigold

- vs -

Kentucky “Tuck” Taggart

Unsanctioned Street Fight

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Winner by Pinfall: FRANCES MARIGOLD!

Ring Entrance (PLEASE write one out for use in match/show writing):

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"

John Blade
- vs -
Remi Storm
- vs -
Doctor Clown, MD
Triple-Threat

Winner: Remi Storm

The lights dim. A low, almost imperceptible hum of static rolls through the speakers. The crowd murmurs, unsure if this is intentional or a tech glitch.

A single cold white spotlight snaps on, not centered on the stage but slightly off to the left, like production missed their cue or Rowan Vance wasn’t where they expected him to be.

Then the unmistakable bassline of “Psycho Killer” by Talking Heads kicks in.

The crowd reacts instantly, some cheering, some laughing at the unexpected choice, all of them paying attention.

Rowan Vance steps into the light.

Hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted. Expression unreadable, like he’s listening to something only he can hear.

JC: Rowan Vance! He’s not your typical wrestler; he’s quiet! He’s methodical!

JR: And most of all, he’s effective, Jacuinde! He looked dominant in his debut against Ennui Clown! But is it just beginner’s luck? Or will the pride of Harper’s Ferry claim another victory tonight?

He doesn’t pose, he just starts walking. Slow, steady, deliberate. Sometimes a hand will come out to slap fives or fist bump those in the crowd.

Every few steps, he glances over his shoulder, not dramatically, just a subtle, instinctive check, like he heard a footstep behind him.

The spotlight follows him, but always a fraction of a second late, giving the whole thing a slightly off‑kilter, uncanny rhythm.

As he reaches the ramp, the lighting shifts: a faint blue haze rolls across the stage, giving him a silhouette that looks almost doubled, like someone is walking just behind him.

The crowd can’t tell if it’s a trick of the lights or something else.

Rowan reaches ringside. He pauses as the chorus hits that jittery, staccato vocal rhythm.

He still doesn’t position himself for photo opportunities, doesn’t smirk, just stops, his head turning slightly like he’s trying to locate a sound in the rafters.

Then he slides under the bottom rope with the same quiet, fluid motion he does everything else… As he stands, the arena lights flicker, just once.

Not enough to scream “supernatural.” Just enough to make the audience shift in their seats. Rowan doesn’t react, he’s used to it.

He walks to his corner, leans back against the turnbuckles, and waits, hands still in his pockets, eyes scanning the arena like he’s cataloguing every noise, every movement, every pattern.

The music fades. The static hum returns for half a second, then there's silence, and Rowan Vance is ready.

…

Rowan Vance
- vs -
El Landerson
X-Treme Rules

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Winner: Rowan Vance

“Martin had a dream…”

“All my life, I want money and power

Respect my mind or die from lead shower”

The screen glitches to life, a black background with a grey logo and some words:

“The Exiles

Not a choice, a sentence.”

Two spotlights snap on from opposite ends of the stage, on the left: Sebastian Everett-Bryce, dressed in a long black coat. His chin tilts upwards slightly, a wry smile pastered on it - hiding his disdain for this situation. He adjusts the arms on his coat mid-stride, as he makes his way down to the ring. The shining tag-belt glimmers from his waist.

On the right: Isaiah King, no cape or theatrics, simply a weathethered grey leather jacket over some wrestling tights and boxing boots. He glances at the name on the screen and shows visible disgust, he carries the tag belt by the strap.

“Gadamn I feel amazin’”

Korvayne and a Mystery Partner(???)
- vs -
The Exiles
Sebastian Everett-Bryce and Isaiah King
Standard Tag

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Winner: DRAW!

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Gator
Last Man Standing

WINNER - DICKIE WATSON!

JC: Ladies and gentlemen, this next contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen-minute time limit… and it is for the XWF TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP!

♫ YOUR HEART ♫

♫ IS A HOLE ♫

Violent STROBES shatter the dark—a disorienting, epileptic stutter. Words flash on the video screen in rapid, subliminal bursts.

♫ I CAN SEE FOR MILES AND MILES! ♫

♫ BEYOND THE BLACK RAINBOW! ♫

Color-tinted haze bleeds out across the stage floor. The camera sweeps the crowd, catching the frenetic energy. The arena plunges to black again. The music builds, grinding upward.

♫ EX-IT! ♫

♫ INSIDE THE MIDNIGHT YOU'VE BEEN SLITH-ER-ING ♫

♫ YOU FORM THE COLUMN'S … DE-FIC-IEN-CY ♫

♫ I LATCH ON TO YOU … WE … RE-PRESS-UR-IZE ♫

♫ IN-FRA-RED … PAR-A-DISE ♫

The bass drops out. A suspended moment of tension. Yelena stops dead. She stares at nothing, eyes wide, that grin horrifyingly fixed.

The beat DROPS.

♫ UPWARDS! FEEL THE PRE-SSURE! ♫

♫ ABSCESS! HEART IS A HOLE! ♫

♫ DISSOLVE! DISPLACE! REJOICE! REPEAT! ♫

♫ NO PRESSURE HERE! ADMIT DEFEAT! ♫

♫ DISSOLVE! DISPLACE! REJOICE! REPEAT! ♫

♫ NO PRESSURE HERE! TO MEET YOUR SOUL! ♫

She explodes to her feet in the center of the ring. Arms thrown wide. Chest heaving. She screams the lyric to the rafters:

♫ BEYOND THE BLACK RAINBOW! ♫

XWF Television Championship
Matthias Syn ©
- vs -
Yelena Gorgo
15 Minute Time Limit

HIGHLIGHT REEL

15:00

14:59

14:58

14:37

14:36

14:35

13:51

13:50

13:49

13:13

13:12

13:11

12:02

12:01

12:00

10:14

10:!3

10:12

Winner and NEW XWF Television Champion: Yelena Gorgo

THANKS TO

OUR MATCH WRITERS
Liam Desmond
'Big' Dick Lichter
Atticus Gold
Peter Principle

OUR SEGMENT WRITERS
Scoops McGee
Kieran King
Charlie Nickles
Corey Black

AND EVERYONE WHO RP'D!

]]> <![CDATA[WARFARE - March 9th, 2026]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49896 Tue, 10 Mar 2026 22:34:52 -0700 Atticus Gold]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49896

March - 9 - 2026

LIVE FROM COCA-COLA ARENA

DUBAI, UNITED ARAB EMIRATES

(Home of the World’s Largest Ferris Wheel)

Solomon Kline
- vs -
John Black
Singles

Korvayne
- vs -
Deena Hixx
Singles

Yelena Gorgo
- vs -
Game Girl
First Blood

Sebastian Everett-Bryce
- vs -
The Director
THE DIRECTOR’S CUT

The match takes place on a soundstage, in front of a live studio audience! AND BARBED-WIRE IS EVERYWHERE!

339B24CF 7686 4827 8531 E117BD55ED40 removebg preview

Centurion ©
- vs -
Betsy Granger
15 Minute Time Limit

Money Pit

ROUND TWO
Asher Hayes
- vs -
John Blade
One Fall
Victory can be obtained by Pinfall, Submission, KO, or Ring-Out!

Pirate Raid

ROUND TWO
Scoops McGee
- vs -
Matthias Syn
One Fall
Victory can be obtained by Pinfall, Submission, KO, or Ring-Out!

Stage Hazard - WIND AND STORMY WATERS

House of Valentine: Prague Residence

ROUND TWO
Dickie Watson
- vs -
Jenny Myst
One Fall
Victory can be obtained by Pinfall, Submission, KO, or Ring-Out!

Village of the Wind

ROUND TWO
Kieran King ©
- vs -
Samael Dyson ©
- vs -
Micheal Graves
Triple-Threat X-TREME RULES TRIPLE-THREAT
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO
Must pin or submit Samael Dyson for the X-Treme title to change hands

Stage Hazard - WIND!

We see the X-Tron come to life, and we see "John Black" name shot up with the .38 special, then we see on the walkway we see JB standing by the entrance with a towel on his neck. He does some shadowboxing to the camera, then he walks down giving some fans some daps in the process. He then stops by apron, and he throws his towel to the hard cam side. Then he rolls into the ring, and raises his fist in the air and saying "im the man!" as his theme slowly cuts, then he stands in the ring waiting for his opps.

DING! DING! DING!

The bell rings.

Solomon Kline just stands there, towering over John Black.

JB looks up, cracks his neck and steps forward, sizing up the taller opponent.

JC: Oh man, we got ourselves a real showdown tonight! One man's trying to carve out his own legacy, and the other's fighting to prove he's still got some gas left in that tank!

JR: Yeah, JB's been in this game forever. He might not be as quick as Kline, but I promise you that he knows every single trick in the book and is willing to utilize them!

They lock up! JB tries to dig in and push forward, but Kline height allows him to easily power him back.

JB slides across the mat as Solomon leans him into the ropes.

The referee calls for the break and Kline backs off with his hands up.

JB immediately fires off the ropes and shoves Kline's chest.

The crowd pops, but Kline barely moves.

He glares down at JB, but JB just shrugs and throws a right hand!

CRACK!

Kline’s head snaps to the side!

JB follows with another punch!

Then another!

Then a hard hook to the body that winces Kline!

JC: And John Black wasting no time getting physical!

JR: JB's bringing street business to the ring!

JB fires off another right hand, but Kline blocks it! He returns fire with a right of his own that connects and staggers JB. He then grabs JB by the wrist and yanks him into a THUNDEROUS clothesline!

JB flips turned inside-out and lands in a heap!

The crowd roars as Kline grabs JB by the collar and hauls him back up, lifting him straight into the air and—

SUPLEX!

JB rolls onto his side, groaning.

Kline gets impatient and guides him to his feet again, but JB suddenly fires off a few right hands, hits the ropes, and rebounds into the Dead’z Prez, taking Kline to the mat, where he starts raining down punches!

Left!

Right!

Left!

Right!

Kline covers up but JB’s fists keep raining down hard!

JC: John Black bringing the fight right back to him!

JR: That old dog is proving he still bites!

JB rises and immediately stomps Kline in the ribs.

JB drags him up into a Front facelock.

Kline struggles weakly.

SNAP DDT!

JB rolls him over.

ONE!

KICKOUT!

Kline powers out before two.

JB grabs him again, but Kline launches a brutal forearm into JB’s jaw!

CRACK!

JB stumbles!

Kline pushes forward, firing off another!

Then a step back, and—

SUPERKICK!

JB’s head snaps backward! He's out on his feet!

Kline hooks him and the crowd pops early!

GERMAN SUPLEX!

JB crashes into the mat on his neck!

But Kline doesn’t release his grip.

He positions over JB and climbs to his feet.

DEADLIFT GERMAN SUPLEX!

The crowd roars in approval!

JC: Deadlift German Suplex! That's typically a weapon from Black's arsenal!

JR: Well, tonight he's getting a taste of his own medicine!

Kline pops to his feet and lets out a roar while JB lays on the mat nursing his neck.

JB slowly rises to his feet, but Kline charges in with a SPEAR!!!

But JB sidesteps and Kline crashes shoulder first into the ring post!

JB capitalizes instantly with a Cradle piledriver!

Kline’s head spikes off the mat!

JB rolls him over and covers.

ONE!

TWO!!

KICKOUT!!!

JB slaps the mat in frustration.

JR: That was close! Real close!

JB drags Kline up.

BRAINBUSTA!

But, no! Kline blocks the attempt and lifts JB instead!

BLUE THUNDER BOMB!

JB is driven into the mat hard!

Kline hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!!

JB kicks out!

Both men lie on the mat now, gasping for air.

The crowd begins to clap in an effort to coax them back to life.

Kline sits up as JB crawls toward the ropes.

Kline's up first. He grabs JB and whips him into the ropes.

On rebound, JB gets popped into the air and catches a Forearm to the face!

JC: ASHES TO ASHES!

JB crashes to the mat and the crowd explodes!

JC: SOLOMON KLINE GOT ALL OF THAT!

JR: THIS COULD BE IT!

Kline slowly pulls JB up again and hooks the arms, setting up for...

JC: WAIT A SECOND—

JR: HE'S GOING FOR DUST TO DUST!!!

The crowd jumps to their feet.

Kline lifts him, but JB’s legs start kicking.

Kline staggers slightly and JB drops behind him!

The crowd pops!

Kline turns as JB fires off a desperate kick to the gut and hits the ropes!

JB rushes in with a—

FLYING LARIAT!

But Kline scoops him right out of the air as the realization instantly hits JB in the face like a brick.

JR: Uh oh…

Kline drops JB across his knee!

BACKBREAKER!

JB’s rolls to the canvas clutching his lower back.

JC: BACKBREAKER! KLINE JUST BROKE JOHN BLACK IN HALF!

JR: That may have snapped whatever comeback JB had left along with his spine!

Kline stands over the veteran and grabs him by the legs.

JB doesn't have much fight in him at the moment.

Kline steps through the legs and start to turn him over into the—

JC: WAIT A SECOND! HE'S GOING FOR THE SCORPION DEATHLOCK!

JR: IF HE SITS DOWN THIS COULD BE ALL SHE WROTE!

Kline turns him and starts to sit down, but JB suddenly reaches back and grabs Kline’s ankles with both hands and yanks hard!

FACEPLANT!

The crowd erupts!

JC: OH! KLINE WASN'T EXPECTING THAT!

JR: EVERY SINGLE TRICK!

JB scrambles and beats Kline to his feet.

JB fires a right hand and a kneeling Kline!

CRACK!

Another!

CRACK!

Another!

CRACK!

The punches are sloppy, but every one of them lands.

Kline wobbles on his knees as JB closes in!

DROPKICK!

The crowd explodes as Kline falls to this back!

JC: WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?!

JR: JB FOUND A LITTLE SPRING IN THOSE LEGS!

Kline tries to get up, but JB's already on him.

He hooks the arm, grabs his head, and wrenches back violently with everything he has!

CRIPPLER CROSSFACE!!!

JC: CROSSFACE! CROSSFACE! THE CROSSFACE IS LOCKED IN!

JR: JOHN BLACK JUST TURNED THIS MATCH ON ITS HEAD! CAN SOLOMON FIND A WAY OUT!?

JB pulls back with everything he has left as Kline fights the urge to tap.

…

Kline reaches for the ropes…

Clawing with everything he’s got…

…

BUT HE CAN’T MAKE IT! HE TAPS!

Winner: John Black

JC: WOW! What a way to open Warfare! John Black pulls off a surprising upset victory over Solomon Kline!

JR: Kline might be the future, but Black pulled out some veteran tricks and simply overwhelmed the young buck! He’ll recover, but tonight, John Black takes a win home for the THUGS!

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.

JC: Deena Hixx is… she’s certainly something, Joe!

JR: She’s a complete lunatic, Jacuinde! She claims to have Jenny Myst’s voice in her head… She declared herself a truer artist than her opponent… And she seems to think she and her sister Latoya are twins… Even though they look nothing alike!

JC: Deena’s an unorthodox competitor, for sure! But she does have a recent PPV win under her belt at War Games! She’s made it clear she has aims of competing for the X-Treme title at March Madness! A win tonight would certainly help her case… but that’s a tall order against the woman she’s facing tonight…

Deena slides into the ring and leans on the ropes with her legs crossed and waits for her Opponent to arrive.

…

Korvayne’s ring music plays and she is appalled by the reaction the fans give her as she heads to the ring! She spends a lot of needless time arguing with the fans!

JC: Korvayne… there was a brief window of time where it seemed like she might not make her debut!

JR: I don’t know how the Trillionaires managed it, but somehow Korvayne got bailed out of that Dubai jail, despite her profane display of her body… and her intentionally trying to break every rule of conduct in Dubai all in one day!

JC: Korvayne is an artist and audacity is her medium, Joe! We’ve seen her make that clear outside the ring! What we haven’t seen is how that unique flair shapes her style inside the ring!

Eventually Korvayne gets in the ring, does her artsy pose, and bows though the fans don't deserve it.

…

Both women stand across the ring from each other…

Korvayne stands tall with theatrical arrogance, chin slightly tilted upward, lips curled into a smug half-smile as if the ring is a museum gallery and Deena Hixx is simply an exhibit waiting to be critiqued. She slowly rolls her shoulders and stretches her neck, dramatically examining Deena like a sculptor studying marble.

Across the ring, Deena Hixx’s eyes twitch with impatient energy. Her nostrils flare and her foot taps rapidly against the canvas like a racehorse pawing at the gate. Her lips curl into a cocky smirk, but there’s something erratic behind her eyes—like she’s listening to something no one else can hear.

JR: Korvayne’s got moxie for miles, Jacuinde! But how far can moxie get you against an unhinged lunatic like Deena Hixx?[/white]

The bell rings.

Korvayne
- vs -
Deena Hixx
Singles

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Deena’s eyes suddenly widen with manic excitement as she hears the voices urging her to prove she’s faster than anyone alive. She leans forward like a sprinter ready to explode.

She bolts across the ring at blinding speed—

Korvayne rolls her eyes as if this burst of speed is blase and unoriginal…

JC: Deena’s looking to run Korvayne over! But Korvayne isn’t backing down!

Deena sprints for Korvayne, looking for a…

SHOULDER BLOCK!

…

But effortlessly, Korvayne catches Deena’s wrist and…

ARM DRAG! Hixx is flopped through the air and onto her back!

JC: …Wow! Impressive counter by Korvayne!

Deena goes to lift her guard from the mat… But Korvayne simply circles the ring, taking in the audience in Dubai with disapproval and disdain…

JC: No follow-up attack from Korvayne! That may prove to be a mistake!

JR: The real mistake might be pissing off the people of Dubai! It’s a long way from here to the airport back to the states!

Deena backward somersaults back onto her feet, as Korvayne lounges back against the corner turnbuckle disinterestedly…

JC: In the mist of Korvayne’s nonchalant posing, I think she’s put herself in no man’s land! Deena’s got her cornered!

Deena charges as Korvayne lounges back against the turnbuckle… Deena goes for a…

STINGER SPLASH!

…But Korvayne, with incredible dexterity, forward rolls under! Deena’s face eats the top turnbuckle!

JC: Korvayne, showing off some shocking dexterity her in her debut match! She’s both quick and playing her opponent’s overconfidence to her advantage!

Deena staggers back from the turnbuckle spinning around slowly…

As Korvayne’s expression shifts into a sly grin, her eyes narrowing like a painter anticipating the first brushstroke of a masterpiece… She leaps!

CRACK!

Korvayne leaps and plants a perfect standing dropkick directly into Deena’s chest.

Deena flies backward and crashes backwards into the turnbuckle!

The crowd reacts immediately.

JR: Whoa, dude! What timing! What impact!

Deena’s back KERACKS against the turnbuckle pad… and she stumbles forward, cradling her spine…

But Korvayne isn’t done! She breaks into a run herself!

JC: Korvayne looks like she isn’t done after just one dropkick!

JR: As if she’s just placed the first bold stroke on a canvas… And she’s eager to follow it up with more!

Korvayne sprints forward—

THUD!

A running dropkick smashes Deena square in the face.

Deena rolls violently across the mat.

JC: KORVAYNE WITH BACK-TO-BACK DROPKICKS!

Deena rolls to her knees, shaking her head violently as frustration overtakes her confusion. Her eyes dart around wildly, jaw clenching…

JR: Do you think the voices in her head tried to tell her to dodge that one?

Her face twists into rage.

Korvayne’s expression suddenly turns playful, eyebrows raised as if she’s amused by Deena’s temper tantrum.

Deena charges forward swinging wildly with a…

LARIAT!

But Korvayne ducks under the clothesline attempt! As Deena spins around, Korvayne springs onto the ropes—

BOOM!

Springboard dropkick!

The impact launches Deena sideways into the corner.

JC: Dropkick after Dropkick after DROPKICK from Korvayne!

JR: Deena is getting taken to Drop Kick City!

Korvayne stands up slowly and spreads her arms like a triumphant artist presenting a gallery piece.

Deena lies slumped in the corner, eyes unfocused, chest heaving as she tries to process the avalanche of impact she just took.

Korvayne’s grin grows wicked, as she moves to the apron…

She climbs the turnbuckle.

The crowd begins to buzz.

…Deena slowly peels herself up out of the corner…

Korvayne leaps.

WHAM!

MISSILE DROPKICK!

Deena explodes out of the corner and crashes onto her back.

JC: FOUR! FOUR DROPKICKS!

JR: An absolutely dominant showing thus far by Korvayne!

JC: It’s been all Korvayne thus far…

JR: Never count Deena Hixx out, though! She’s got a few screws loose and she can dig those screws into her opponent’s eyes when they least expect it!

Korvayne rises slowly again, theatrically wiping sweat from her brow like a painter stepping away from a finished mural.

She turns to the crowd and bows mockingly to the sold-out Dubai crowd…

JC: Korvayne clearly savoring every moment of dominating her debut in front of a crowd she feels nothing but contempt for…

JR: She better watch out, Jacuinde! The people of Dubai ain’t her opponent! Deena Hixx is!

Korvayne is finally satisfied and ready to put this one away, reaching for the scruff of Deena’s ne-

CLAMP! Deena wrenches herself out of Korvayne’s grip and bites down on Korvayne’s hand! Korvayne’s face contorts in horror and pain!

JC: Oh my GOD! Deena just bit Korvayne!

JR: That’s gonna be an issue with customs on her way back to the US! Korvayne better hope she brought documentation proving she’s gotten a rabies booster!

Korvayne reels her arm back, reacting with surprise to Deena’s sudden bite attack…

When suddenly!

GRAB!

Deena hooks Korvayne’s arm and flips her over with a monkey flip!

Korvayne crashes onto her back.

JR: OH! Deena just exploded!

JC: Deena’s chaining together moves! All of a sudden, the tide might be shifting!

Korvayne’s eyes widen in surprise as she shoves herself off the mat, eager to correct her mistake of not crushing Deena…

Deena’s face lights up with deranged confidence.

As Korvayne goes to grapple, Deena counters with a…

ARM DRAG!

Korvayne flips.

Deena pops back up.

SECOND ARM DRAG!

Korvayne rolls again.

Deena screams triumphantly.

“SEE?! I’M BETTER! I’M THE REAL ARTIST!”

JC: Deena’s truly crazy, Joe!

JR: I mean, right now, it’s working for her!

As Korvayne shoves her way back upright, Deena sprints at her again…

But Korvayne catches her around the back of the neck!

JC: Oh dear! Deena might be in trouble!

Korvayne rises up, looking for a…

LEONARDO’S LAMENT! (Codebreaker)

…But with surprising strength, Deena keeps Korvayne up in her arms…

She suddenly drops her across her knee! REVERSE ATOMIC DROP!

JC: …Ouch.

Korvayne’s face contorts in pain, as Deena leaps up, wraps her legs around Korvayne’s head!

Hurricanrana! Korvayne’s shoulders are planted to the mat with Deena sitting on her!

And Deena grabs Korvayne’s legs!

JC: Oh my God! This would be a big upset if Deena steals this one!

Deena’s face gleams with manic pride.

The official drops to count!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-NO! Korvayne kicks out.

Deena is thrown off Korvayne’s shoulders… she smacks the mat, furiously!

JC: Deena pulled off a surprising sequence there, Joe!

JR: But she’s gotta follow it up with something to put Korvayne away! No one writes a two-count down in the record books, Jacuinde!

After an extended period of slamming her fists into the mat with frustration, Deena’ eyes twitch wildly.

The voices demand the kill.

JC: Deena’s finally gathering herself enough to put the hurt back on Korvayne!

JR: Gathering herself is a strong word… she’s still completely unhinged, but those voices in her head all seem to be in agreement that the solution is finishng off Deena’s opponent!

Korvayne shakes her head, rising off the mat to her knees…

Deena’s face twists with determination...

She charges forward breaking into another sprint!

JC: Oh my God! This might do it!

Deena extends her boot, looking for a…

DEENA WIZARD!

…

But!

At the last second—

Korvayne slides underneath the incoming knee with breathtaking agility!

JC: Oh WOW! That dodge was…

JR: That was ART, Jacuinde!

Deena lands awkwardly, not prepared for her kick to miss!

Korvayne slips under and keeps running…

She springs onto the second rope.

The crowd gasps as Deena manages to gather her footing enough to spin around!

Korvayne launches forward—

PICASSO PUNCH!!!

JC: WOW! That shot was HARD!

JR: You’re not supposed to use your left hand to greet anyone in Dubai… But, Korvayne’s left fist just said hello to Deena’s skull! And introduced Deena to the sandman in the process!

Deena collapses like her strings were cut.

Korvayne’s chest rises slowly as she admires the destruction like an artist admiring a completed sculpture.

She slowly kneels and hooks the leg.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Winner: Koryvane

[white]]JR: Korvayne wins and she looked good doing it, Jacuinde! Deena put up a hell of a fight, but Korvayne was just too much!

JC: A strong debut for the provocative and controversial new star!

The cameras switch their views, cutting to the back. It’s still early on in the night; the crew scurries around, ensuring everything flows smoothly. Wrestlers in various states of gear are walking around or warming up in corners, keeping to themselves. Yelena Gorgo is one of those, intense and imposing as always, warming up in a quiet hallway near the entry point for the roster. As she drops to do another set of pushups, the doors swing open, inviting in the last of the sunlight and the gaggle of loud fans who couldn’t get tickets to the show that night, hanging out in hopes of getting an autograph or a selfie from whoever was gracious enough to stop. The camera follows Yelena’s gaze, and both watch as Betsy Granger and Sebastian Everett-Bryce stroll in; his arm is casually thrown over her shoulders, she with an arm around his waist, both dragging small wheeled suitcases.

Rolling her eyes, Yelena ignores the interruption and continues with her workout. Betsy and Sebastian let the door shut behind them, the performative grins plastered to their faces relaxing into a more natural expression. They both notice Yelena at this point, who was still ignoring them for her pre-match ritual; Seb was content to leave her to it, but Betsy hesitated, resisting when Seb tried guiding her along. Pulling out of his grasp, she puts a hand on his chest and lifts herself up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek.

Betsy: I’ll meet you in the back in a few… I want to talk to her real quick.

Sebastian opens his mouth to object, but Betsy puts a finger over his lips.

Betsy: Give me a few minutes…

Nodding, Seb takes her suitcase from her and plants a kiss on her forehead before walking away. Turning towards Yelena, she sits down in front of her and watches, impressed, with the ease with which Yelena finishes her sets. When she finishes and looks up, her eyes meet Betsy’s, who is giving her a disarming smile.

Betsy: Hey, there.

Yelena’s leaning against the wall, one knee bent with the heel of her boot pressed against the concrete block. Her hair is a jagged blonde curtain around her face, casting uneven shadows beneath the sharp cliffs of her brow. Her eyes, ice rings around deeply black cores, look at Betsy with an intense interest.

She pops the round lollipop from her lips and tips it in the other woman’s direction.

Yelena: Well, well, if it ain’t the Impossible Traveler herself. What’s shakin’, Granger?

Betsy: Another day, another show, another chance to shove it to the man.

Betsy tips her head to the side as she considers Yelena carefully.

Betsy: In the current state of things… It’s hard to find people you can trust. Especially with over-bloated trillionaires pulling all… well… most of the strings around here.

The Impossible Traveler’s face darkens.

Betsy: I refuse to be a corporate puppet… You strike me as someone who feels the same. There are many who would bend the knee for an opportunity to climb higher around here.

Yelena pushes off the wall. Her ox-blood jacket falls loosely closed over her swoop-necked t-shirt. She pushes back the hair from her face, fingers guiding it behind her ear. The motion drags her smile into the light, split-open and uneven, like the two sides were in disagreement on how high to rise up her cheekbones.

Yelena: Listen to you. All power to the people. You don’t wanna be a corporate puppet, but you date a guy with an empire on his back and you’re talkin’ to a woman who takes a siesta on a patio where Bing Crosby probably crooned his way through a blowjob or two.

She snorted a laugh and placed her index finger over Betsy’s lips before she could lodge a protest.

Yelena: I’m only pointin’ out the reality of the sitch, feel me? Sebby ain’t nothin’ like those three and neither am I. I met Musk once. I don’t think I ever mentioned it. At a party. Someone dragged me over to meet him. He spent twenty minutes stumbling through a fuckin’ dissertation about how one we’ll all have personal robots that go to work for us, and our jobs are to change the oil and keep the Tin Man goin’

She scrunched her face.

Yelena: He smells like cheese. That’s all I could keep thinkin’. Like it was coming out of his pores. So you don’t gotta sell me on stompin’ on his dreams. And Zuckerberg? Moron. Grade A fucking idiot. Both of them are playing games. Zucks’ is the Sims. Except he locked everyone inside and set the kitchen on fire. Calls it a social experiment. So, Betsy-Cakes, what’s your plan? Because I’m hungry—and this sounds delicious.

Betsy’s smile never wavers as she listens to Yelena, studying her carefully as one would a prize cut of meat. Once Yelena opens the floor to her once more, Betsy’s expression shifts to one promising mischief.

Betsy: I intend to make the lives of those men as difficult as I possibly can… I met Elon when I was 18, and unfortunately, I didn’t get a dissertation. Not to say he didn’t want to get hands-on and chatty…

She looks at Yelena and gags, a genuine shudder rippling through her as the memory comes through.

Betsy: I doubt he remembers, but I do… Gross as fuck. Men like that think they can just say what they want, do what they want, to whoever they want, and walk away from it… He and Zuckerberg both cost me friends because of the way they do business.

Betsy’s hands clench into fists.

Betsy: It’s bad enough having to read about all of them nearly every day on some platform or another. If I had it my way, I would raze everything that made their fortunates to the ground and crucify them on national television… Perhaps that comes later, if we’re lucky… But for right now?

She glances at Yelena, the anger ebbing away back to the charming smile. Reaching over, she takes the lollipop from Yelena and rolls it around her tongue before giving it a decent suck and popping it back in her mouth.

Betsy: I’d be satisfied finding a way to drive those fucks out of my god damn home. But these things can’t be handled delicately, nor alone. I’ve seen you… I’ve heard you. I do believe our paths could align. I accept your doubts, and your take on the situation. If my words aren’t enough…

Betsy gets to her feet and dusts herself off.

Betsy: I have no problem putting my money where my mouth is. I would very much like to be a purveyor of chaos around here… And I believe we could work well together on that.

When Betsy turned herself into a Sucker Thief, Yelena wiggled her fingers like they suddenly felt naked. Her face scrunched up. Her nose even wiggled a bit. Then she… relaxed. A sigh came fluttering out of her lips, like the storm-raged river had suddenly quieted into a gentle stream.

Yelena: I think we can do that.

Around Betsy she goes, where she stops?

Around the other shoulder, duh. Her smile went from horror-movie grin to a soft, sly smirk.

Yelena: In fact, I can imagine us working together in all manner of positions. I have a few ideas. How about after the show we workshop a few? Whip up a PowerPoint.

Her shoulders lurched backward. Hands shot into the air and went wide, as if she were unveiling a billboard.

Yelena: How to Defeat a Billionaire. Step 1: Find a billionaire of your own that likes the idea of chucking molotov cocktails into the homes of other billionaires. The kind of bitch who screams Free Luigi and may, or may not, own a first edition of the Communist Manifesto.

She twists around to Bety’s front, clicking her cowboy boots on the smooth cement.

Yelena: Congrats, Granger. I’m your huckleberry.

And she sticks her hand out for a shake. With a glitter in her green eyes, Betsy slaps her hand in Yelena’s, and the women shake to a newfound alliance based in mayhem.

*CRACK*

Game Girl stumbles.

Then another forearm lands.

And another.

JR: Those forearms are ugly!

JC: Gorgo’s not trying to score points here, she’s trying to re-digitize her face!

Game Girl tries to answer back with a quick punch to the ribs, but Yelena barely even reacts to the shot.

Instead she steps into it and hooks the arm, stepping through into a OSOTO GARI!

Game Girl is slammed hard onto the canvas again. She tries to roll away, but Yelena is on her and lifts her up onto her shoulder and marches her toward the corner...

SNAKE EYES!

Game Girl’s face bounces off the top pad and she stumbles right into a brutal Pump Kick that drops her!

JR: She nearly took her head off with that one!

Yelena drops to a knee, then mounts her and hammers down with stiff, grinding punches.

Left.

Right.

Another right.

Game Girl manages to get free and kick Yelena off of her. She quickly rolls underneath the bottom rope and pulls herself up onto the apron on the outside where she shakes her head trying to system reset.

Yelena rushes in and dives over the top rope with a clothesline that spills the fight to the outside.

Back on their feet, Yelena charges in. Game Girl barely ducks a swinging forearm and fires back with a quick kick to the knee. Yelena’s leg buckles and Game Girl launches herself into a Flip Kick!

The heel catches Yelena under the chin and staggers her backward. She falls into the barricade. Game Girl darts forward again and hits a Kirākikku! drive-by kick.

JC: That speed again!

JR: She’s trying to keep Yelena off balance!

Game Girl grabs Yelena’s arm and tries tp whip her into the steel steps, but Yelena reverses.

Game Girl vaults onto the steps, and leaps back with a Raging Uppercut!

The punch finally knocks her down to one knee.

The crowd's going wild as Game Girl throws her hands up like she just landed a perfect 30 move combo finisher.

Then she drops and looks around under the ring.

She spots something and reaches in deep.

When she stands up again...

The WARHAMMER is in her hand!!!

JR: Uh oh…

JC: First Blood match, remember!

Yelena pushes up to her feet just as Game Girl charges forward.

*BONK*

Big Adventure

The hammer smashes into Yelena’s forehead.

Yelena staggers.

Game Girl swings again!

SPIN TO WIN!

The hammer catches Yelena on the temple and sends her falling against the barricade.

Game Girl raises the weapon triumphantly.

The crowd erupts.

Then the referee rushes in.

Because a thin line of red begins to run down Yelena’s forehead.

JR: That might do it!

JC: Might!? That’s blood! IT'S OVER!

The referee moves in closer.

Game Girl drops the hammer and starts celebrating.

But Yelena suddenly reaches over the barricade and snatches a fan’s water bottle, and pours it over her head.

The blood runs down her face and washes away, underneath?

Nothing.

The referee wipes his thumb across her forehead.

No wounds. No blood.

JR: Wait… what?!

JC: Was I seeing things? I could have sworn she was busted!?

Game Girl's jaw drops when she realizes what just happened.

Yelena grins and lunges forward, grabbing Paige by the throat and hurling her back into the ring.

Game Girl rolls through and pops back to her feet on instinct.

She charges as Yelena enters—Shift-Slide—Yelena hops over it!

Game Girl spins up into a Flip Kick!

Yelena ducks.

Game Girl lands and fires the Electric Wind God Fist!

The shot cracks Yelena across the jaw and finally staggers the bigger woman backward.

The crowd explodes again as Game Girl keeps moving.

Get Over Here!

She hooks Yelena and yanks her forward into the Raging Uppercut!

Yelena’s head snaps back as Game Girl leaps into the air and thrusts both boots into Yelena's chest!

Romper Stomper!

Yelena's coughing for air as she rolls away, and pushes up to her knees.

Game Girl charges again, but this time Yelena catches with a SNAP DRAGON SUPLEX!

Both competitors just lie on the mat.

Slowly they begin to move again.

Game Girl pushes to her knees first.

But Yelena pushes to her feet first.

They stagger toward each other looking worse for wear.

Game Girl swings.

Yelena attempts to counter with a Judo throw.

But her balance is off and they both crash violently into the turnbuckles and drop to the canvas.

Game Girl rolls away from the wreckage coughing. She grabs onto the ropes and tries to pull herself up.

Yelena pushes up from the canvas first and shakes the cobwebs loose with an irritated snarl.

Both women look rough, and the referee takes this pause to check their faces carefully for blood.

Nothing yet.

JR: This is getting dangerous now. One clean shot is all it’s gonna take!

Game Girl drags herself to her feet. She looks across the ring at Yelena and wipes sweat out of her eyes.

Then she suddenly raises one finger in the air.

JC: What… what is she doing?

Game Girl begins pressing invisible buttons.

Up.

Up.

Down.

Down.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

B.

A.

B.

A.

START!

JR: Was that the Konami code!?

A strange shimmer ripples around Game Girl for a split second like a visual glitch.

Then her head suddenly balloons to absurd proportions.

BIG HEAD MODE

The crowd explodes with laughter as Game Girl nods proudly, then takes off running.

Yelena sees her coming and rushes in.

They collide as Game Girl delivers a CRUSHING—

RUNNING HEADBUTT!

Her oversized head SMASHES directly into Yelena’s with a sickening crack.

Both women collapse onto the mat on impact.

The impact echoes through the arena.

The water in the restroom toilets ripple.

The guy in section Y seat 52 spills his popcorn.

And for a moment neither of them move.

The referee rushes in and drops to his knees between them.

JC: Oh my god!

JR: That might have cracked somebody open!

The official begins frantically checking both competitors’ faces.

Game Girl is glitching, twitching, and spamming moves uncontrollably as the impact from the headbutt takes it’s toll on her gamer girl bod’. Her oversized head starts losing air and shrinking down to size, almost like a balloon being squeezed…..but there’s no blood!

So the referee goes back to checking on Gorgo, who appears possibly concussed and definitely loony from the force of the impact- but she’s not bleeding either!

And now-

Gorgo begins standing!

Slowly rising, like a phoenix reborn from its ashes!

JC: Somehow, GORGO RISES FIRST!

JR: And there’s not a lick of blood on her! This woman is a BEAST!

GORGO! GORGO! GORGO!

JC: This is… a little surprising! This crowd is going absolutely nuts for Yelena Gorgo!

As Gorgo makes it back to her feet first, a sudden swelling of cheers surges throughout the arena! Everyone is on their feet, hooting and hollering, cheering for Yelena!

JC: Listen to those fans, Joe! They’re chanting Gorgo’s names to the rafters!

JR: It’s nothing against Game Girl, but these fans seem to LOVE them some Gorgo! They want to see Gorgo wreak some havoc- and I think Yelena’s going to give it to them!

The sudden volley of cheers for Yelena empowers her, as she heads over to her glitching opponent. Yelena picks up Game Girl, before lifting her into the air with a SNAP DRAGON SUPLEX!

But she doesn’t stop there!

While keeping a stiff hold onto Game Girl, Yelena rises once more- showing off her extreme skill as a grappler, much to the amazement of the crowd. Yelena keeps GG suspended in the air, showcasing her “God”-given talents to the cheering crowd.

JC: Yelena has full control of this match! It’s only a matter of time before she breaks Game Girl’s entire body!

JR: Down with the clanker!

JC: I don’t…I don’t think you’re allowed to say that about her, Joe!

After Yelena shows off her incredible strength to the ravenous crowd, she quickly delivers a series of FLOAT OVER NORTHERN LIGHT SUPLEXES! The ring rattles, and the people go wild!

Yelena executes a Northern Lights Suplex but rather than hold for the pin, they kick their legs over, landing their feet on either side of the opponent, and then lift them up for a second Northern Lights Suplex! They repeat this for a third time before letting go of the hold and letting the referee check on GG for blood. Yelena gloats and taunts at GG, speaking a variety of languages as she relishes in the destruction of the bot’s body.

JC: Game Girl is in a bad spot, Joe!

JR: Yelena Gorgo has thoroughly outwrestled, outgrappled, and outclassed Game Girl tonight- but now, she has to bleed her out like a pig!

JC: JESUS CHRISTO, Joe!

JR: What?! I didn’t pick the stipulation! I just commentate on it!

As Yelena Gorgo takes in the sweet sound of the cheering crowd, the referee checks Game Girl for blood- finding none.

Instead, he finds Game Girl furiously pressing buttons on an invisible controller- even as her eyes glitch and her body short-circuits!

A+B!

Left!

Down!
Down!

Down!

Left!

A + B!

JR: Ok, what the heck is she doing in the ring- spazzing out?! That’s not a part of any mixed martial art I know.

JC: But that’s only because you don’t know, the art- of GAMING!

JR: I’ve had my limit with this gamer Girl nonsense, this is supposed to be a first blood match, not some e-sports competition!

JC: But Joe, can’t you see?! Game Girl just dialed up THE LIMIT BREAKER!

The arena goes pitch black, only light from the energy of GG’s attacks can be seen as they strike her opponent.

[Image: 76c40f3b62f8c41f911aff41b5e4411d.gif]

[Image: 76c40f3b62f8c41f911aff41b5e4411d.gif]

When the lights come back on, Yelena Gorgo is knocked out. GG is standing over them with her back to the hard camera, and the letters "KO" appearing on Yelena Gorgo’s forehead from nowhere.

Appearing on Yelena Gorgo’s forehead in blood!

Winner by First Blood - Game Girl!

The referee calls for the bell when he realizes that Gorgo’s head has been bloodied by GG’s Limit Breaker combo! When the referee goes to raise GG’s hand, a spark of electricity shoots off from her body as she short-circuits, phasing in and out of sight as her condition worsens!

JC: Yelena Gorgo put GG through HELL tonight, and the crowd cheered for it! But she just couldn’t make Game Girl bleed!

JR: I don’t know why it’s legal for Game Girl to bend the rules of time, space, and physics in her matches- but I guess that’s why I’m not be a referee! Either way, Yelena Gorgo put on a wrestling CLINIC tonight!

JC: But it’s Game Girl who escapes by the skin of her teeth tonight!...even if she’s not escaping in one piece!

After the referee backs away from her short-circuiting body, we see Game Girl limping out of the ring and into the arms of paramedics. GG’s robotic left arm is busted up and sparking out, clearly missing a few key sockets and joints. GG’s neck is twisted and bent awkwardly to one side, and her eyes keep flashing to anti-virus software…but hey, at least she’s not bleeding!

Before we cut to commercial, we see Yelena Gorgo rise to her feet, wiping away the thin smear of blood atop her forehead. The wound beneath is gone- but the cheers of the crowd still remain!

[amatch]

The Director appears to silence initially, as he surveys the studio audience assembled before the soundstage, sitting on a gilded director's chair, with a black cloak at his back. "Whiplash" by Architects cracks the silence as four masked men, clad in all black, each mask bearing an X, O, triangle and square, respectively. As the music plays, they each grab a corner of the chair, lifting him and carrying him down the ramp like pall bearers.

JC: The Director has made it his recent mission to make Sebastian Everett-Bryce’s life a living hell!

JR: He attacked him on SEB’s home turf at UGWC! And he’s been hounding SEB to give him and Jenny Myst a shot for SEB and Isaiah King’s tag title shots!

JC: SEB’s tact up to now has largely been to not give Director the attention! SEB seems aware that to give Director attention is to give him the control he so desperately craves… Everett-Bryce seems eager to save their conflict for the ring, where it belongs!

JR: But this match ain’t in a wrestling ring, Jacuinde! This is a Director’s Cut match! Where the Director has total control!/white]

When they reach the end of the ramp, they set the chair down and X kneels down on all fours as the other three step aside. The Director stands, removing his cloak and handing it to one of the other masked men. He then steps onto X's back, using him as a human step stool to step foot onto the soundstage. Once in the ring, he spins with arms outstretched, taking in the boos of the crowd. He then moves to centerstage… behind a late night desk, like the master of ceremonies. He takes a seat upon the desk like it’s a throne… He enfolds his hands and awaits the start of the match.

STUDIO AUDIENCE: OOOOOOOOOH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

…

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

"She askin' “Why you say that?!”

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

"Rich kid asshole, paint me as a villain"

Sebastian Everett-Bryce flings his arms wide, staring up with his head covered by the hood of his jacket. He stands in the middle of the ramp, the lights beating down on him, before looking out at the crowd. He wears a long jacket with the hood pulled up over his head, 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’s in black and white and appears to be cracked and broken. His tights are short, with the initials SEB emblazoned upon the front.

[white]JC: And there he is! Sebastian Everett-Bryce! TWO-TIME Universal champion! And current 24/7 briefcase holder! One of the most successful stars in XWF history!

JR: But that success didn’t carry over to March Madness, Jacuinde! And you can tell that’s just eating away at SEB!

JC: It’s true, SEB had a surprising first round exit from the March Madness tournament… His competition being Scoops McGee and Yelena Gorgo, he had one of the hardest draws in the entire tournament… But he took his opponents to the limit!

JR: C’mon Jacuinde! He lost! Plain and simple!

JC: I can’t argue the result, Joe, but when you’re a champion of SEB’s caliber, a loss only feeds your hunger to push yourself! To dig deeper and win next time! SEB is eager to silence his critics and get back on track! And he literally has the unique opportunity to face off with one of his biggest critics in wrestling, The Director! Will SEB pull off the win? Or is this the Director’s show, and we’re all just living in it?

The lights lift, and SEB makes his way to the ring, stretching his neck from side to side as he walks, his eyes focused on the ring. He climbs up the steps and steps through the ropes before standing in the middle of the ring.

"I'm winnin', yeah, yeah, I'm winnin' (What?)
Rich kid, asshole, paint me as a villain"

He extends his arms once more before pulling back his hood and removing his jacket to reveal the back of his tights which read “S.E.B”

"Don't be mad cause I'm doing me better than you doing you
Better than you doing you, fuck it, what you gon' do? (What?!)"

He flashes his arms out to a side, a satisfied and somewhat sneery grin upon his face, he holds the position for a moment, to allow the crowd to take pictures, before moving towards his corner.

The bell rings.

Sebastian Everett-Bryce
- vs -
The Director
THE DIRECTOR’S CUT

The match takes place on a soundstage, in front of a live studio audience! AND BARBED-WIRE IS EVERYWHERE!

The moment the bell rings, Sebastian Everett-Bryce storms across the stage toward the Director’s throne-like director chair!

JC: Look at SEB go! No theatrics! No nonsense!

The Director is actually caught off-guard…

JR: I think Director was ready to deliver a villainous monologue about how he and SEB aren’t so different, but SEB is ready to kick this guy’s ass!

SEB grabs the chair—

AND HURLS IT ACROSS THE SOUNDSTAGE!

The Director narrowly rolls aside as the chair crashes into a lighting rig wrapped in barbed wire.

TODD: Everett-Bryce isn’t here to perform tonight! He’s here to settle a score!

The Director dives behind his late night desk!

SEB grasps the desk and goes to hurl it on its side!

JC: There’s nowhere to run for the Director! And nowhere to hide either!

SEB manages to throw the desk over!

…But the Director is gone! Under the desk that SEB just dropped… is an escape hatch into the soundstage’s innards!

JR: Wrong there, Jacuinde! The Director always writes himself a means to escape! SEB is now trapped, completely under the Director’s control!

SEB circles the stage, at attention, ready for an ambush…

JC: SEB, feeling some desperation here…

JR: It’s not often the Empire isn’t in total control of the flow of a match… but how the hell is anyone but the Director supposed to have control in a Director’s Cut Match?!? Director’s got total creative control!

Suddenly, a light shines off stage right…

…SEB’s lips flatten with frustration.

JC: I think SEB knows that’s a trap, right, Joe?

JR: Almost certainly, Jacuinde! But how else is he gonna get the Director to pop out of his hidey hole than walking straight into it?

SEB carefully traipses on the balls of his feet across the stage toward the light…

When suddenly, from off-stage!

A muscular black masked man swings in, kicking SEB in the face! On the bottom of the screen, a message flashes…

SPECIAL GUEST STAR: ISAIAH KING!

The studio audience goes nuts for the unexpected appearance of the other tag-team champion!

JC: What?!? Isaiah King is on Warfare?!? AND he’s turning on SEB again?!? I thought they decided at Snow Pain, Snow Gain they were going to work together!

JR: These two do not like each other, Jacuinde! They have never liked each other! And no matter what they say, both these guys are determined to be better than the other!

SEB somersaults backward from the force of this masked Isaiah’s kick… SEB shakes his head…

As the masked Isaiah spins across the stage!

JC: Oh my God! Isaiah’s looking to decapitate his partner with a…

KING’S VERDICT!

…

NO! SEB ducks it!

JC: Incredible wherewithal by the Empire! Even dazed and confused, his ring general instincts spared him from getting his block knocked off!

The masked King’s arm sails over SEB’s head…

And SEB explodes forward—

EUROPEAN UPPERCUT!

The crack echoes across the studio audience.

The masked King stumbles backward…

But SEB doesn’t let up!

Another uppercut!

Another!

Another!

JR: SEB’s trying to knock Isaiah King’s crown off his head!

SEB hooks him—

BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX!

“King” goes flying across the stage—

CRASHING into a pile of barbed-wire-wrapped camera cables!

The crowd gasps.

…SEB snorts impatiently… He crosses the stage…

And pulls off “Isaiah”’s mask…

…Revealing a man wearing an X mask!

JC: …Oh! It wasn’t Isaiah King! It was one of Director’s cronies designed to look like Isaiah!

JR: I think Director is clearly trying to whittle away at SEB’s confidence in his fellow tag-team champion… SEB saw through it… but what other ploys does The Director have in store for SEB?!?

SEB grumbles impatiently, beckoning for Director to come out…

JC: SEB clearly thought getting a match with the Director meant he’d actually get a chance to get his hands on him!

JR: Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like that was in the Director’s script!

SEB grits his teeth, barking at The Director to come out and face him…

…Suddenly, a curtain opens behind the stage! Revealing a bigger stage!

JC: Wait, there’s even more stage?!? How much production budget did the Director have for this match?!?

On the new stage… It’s a sealed black box… no hinges, no doors, no way to open it…

And through the portcullis of the box… It’s the face of Betsy Granger!

JC: …What?!? The Impossible Traveler is competing in a match for the Television Title later tonight!

JR: Well, right now, the only thing Granger is in is Trouble!

SEB’s eyes widen as he sees this setup, moving quickly toward the box…

JC: We’ve seen SEB and Betsy grow closer in recent weeks! This is a truly sick game the Director is playing to get in SEB’s head!

SEB approaches the tank… he peers inside the portcullis, calling out to Betsy, asking if she can get out…

Suddenly, from above… the tank begins to fill with water!

JC: …Oh my God! Is… Is the Director going to drown Betsy Granger… Just to get in SEB’s head?

JR: It’s a bold strategy, Jacuinde! And also… attempted murder!

SEB’s mouth goes agape…

”Stop it…” Betsy’s voice calls out.

JC: Betsy is pleading for SEB to stop this death trap!

JR: But how?!?

SEB tries to shoulder block the box open… as a wheel turns above… suddenly, the water is coming out twice as fast to fill the box!

”STOP IT.”

JC: It sounds like Betsy’s getting a little more panicked…

JR: How panicked do you think she should be, Jacuinde, she’s in mortal danger!

…SEB grunts… emotion palpable as he rapidly circles the tank, looking for some weakness, some riddle… some point of ingress… some riddle or means by which he can peel this box open… It can’t just be an unsolvable game to watch Betsy die, right?

…

Right?

The water fills past her neck…

”Stop it…”

Over her mouth…

Over her nose…

JC: …Um… this can’t be real, right? We… there’s no way…

JR: The Director is willing to do anything if it means control! And this… SEB can’t feel like he’s got even a smidgen of control right now!

In an instant, it dawns on SEB… there’s no trick, no game, no challenge… It’s not competition, it’s pure sadism… He desperately hammers his fists against the box, desperate to save Betsy…

The tank is full now…

He strikes the tank with his fists…

…

Suddenly, the glass gives way!

Water floods backwards out of the tank!

JC: …Wait! Did SEB do it?

JR: They don’t make supervillain death traps like they used to!

As the tank empties, SEB rushes to peel the box open to save Betsy…

…SEB goes to free Betsy inside the tank…

…

But as he approaches…

Betsy seems to flicker… As SEB moves toward her, Betsy partially disappears…

JC: What the Hell?

…SEB turns around, he raises his hand to block a light…

And that causes more of Betsy to disappear!

JC: …Wait! That’s not Betsy! That’s a hologram!

JR: Then what was that voice!?! That was Betsy’s voice!

Suddenly, an audio clip plays…

”Stop it… STOP IT.”

JC: …Gasp! That was a clip from one of Betsy’s recent promos!

JR: …Did you just say gasp!

JC: The Director setup that scene entirely to play more mindgames with SEB!

…SEB’s features twist… impatient… angry… calculating…

JC: The Director has spent this match determined to get in SEB’s head… But at some point, they have to actually fight, right?

SEB slowly turns away from the shattered tank.

Water drips from the stage… pooling around his boots.

His jaw tightens.

His breathing steadies.

And something in his posture changes.

JC: …Hold on a second. Look at SEB’s face…

JR: That ain’t panic anymore, Jacuinde. That’s a man thinkin’. And that’s dangerous.

SEB wipes water from his hands… then calmly walks toward the center of the soundstage.

He spreads his arms.

SEB slowly turns in a circle… addressing the empty stage.

SEB slowly kneels down…

And deliberately sits cross-legged in the middle of the stage.

The crowd murmurs louder.

Silence.

SEB folds his hands.

…

Nothing happens.

Five seconds pass.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

JC: The Director’s not taking the bait!

JR: No… but look at SEB. He’s not moving an inch.

JC: SEB knows the worst thing for a Director is a lack of action! SEB’s leaving himself totally vulnerable to an attack!

SEB closes his eyes.

Perfectly still.

Like a statue.

The cameras pan across the stage…

The audience leans forward…

The tension builds.

…

Then—

A panel slowly slides open behind SEB.

The Director quietly climbs onto the stage.

Whip in hand.

Moving silently.

The crowd begins buzzing! Screaming even!

JC: Oh my God… he took the bait!

JR: SEB knew the Director couldn’t resist the shot that’ll make his whole production!

The Director stalks closer…

raising the whip…

preparing to strike…

The crowd screams for SEB to turn around!

SEB’S EYES SNAP OPEN!

SEB explodes upward—

SPINNING BACK ELBOW!

The strike CRACKS against the Director’s jaw!

JC: HE GOT HIM! HE GOT HIM!

The Director stumbles back—

But SEB doesn’t let him escape!

SEB grabs the cloak—

YANKS the Director forward—

GERMAN SUPLEX!

The Director flies backward across the stage—

CRASHING into a lighting stand wrapped in barbed wire…

…No! The Director manages to somersault back onto his feet and stop himself from going into the barbed wire!

JC: The Director manages to avoid disaster!

JR: But he’s out in the open now! The Empire has dragged the Director into a REAL fight!

The Director once again raises his whip, eager to bring it down on SEB…

But SEB dives forward!

EUROPEAN UPPERCUT!

The Director’s head snaps back.

Another uppercut!

Another!

Another!

JC: This is the fight SEB wanted from the beginning!

The Director tries to swing the whip—

SEB catches his wrist!

TWISTS the arm!

SNAPS him down with an arm-trap suplex onto the stage!

JR: That’s world-class technical wrestling right there!

JC: The Director’s been evading a one-on-one battle with SEB all-night… But SEB finally has The Director right where he wants him!

JR: Cut! CUT! Let’s take five everybody! This scene might need a rewrite!

SEB lifts Director out of the stage wiring… Latching him into a waistlock…

JC: SEB might be looking for the Conquest here!

But the Director pulls from the wires…

His trademark whip!

JC: How the hell did that get there?

JR: It’s the Director’s soundstage, how do you think?!?

SEB goes to set Director for a German Suplex…

But Director latches onto SEB’s wrist, stopping the lift!

SEB whips Director around, looking for a front facelock…

But in response, Director *literally* WHIPS SEB in the ribs!

SEB doubles over, falling to one knee…

As the Director cackles insidiously, letting his whip unfurl…

JC: Oh God… This is going to be agonizing!

Director reels back… HE KERACKS THAT WHIP!

…
But SEB forward-somersaults, narrowly dipping under the strike…

And as he comes up off the roll, SEB surges forward!

E
M
P
I
R
E

K
I
C
K

SEB’s boot catches the side of Director’s mask!

JC: What a strike by SEB! The Director can’t have control if he’s unconscious!

SEB collapses exhausted backwards onto The Director!

The official counts!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE

Winner: Sebastian Everett-Bryceweventr]

[weventr]

The pulsating guitar of Wild Thing echoes around the arena, and the crowd immediately turns raucous and excited as the XWF Legend, Centurion, comes out from behind the curtain. He grins, shining his Television Championship at the top of the ramp as the song explodes.

“WILD THING!”

JR: Look at him, Jack. Centurion looks about twenty years younger right now with how he’s smiling.

JC: Centurion’s been having something of a late-stage renaissance here in the XWF though, and he’s been showing his stuff every show he can. He’s got a very game opponent here tonight, but he’s got all the confidence in the world here as he makes his way to the ring.

JR: This match is his to lose, Jack, but we’ll see if Rome falls to the barbarians here tonight.

Centurion struts his way down to the ring, slapping the hands of the fans nearby before he rolls underneath the bottom rope. He quickly makes his way to the turnbuckle, holding the TV title on high as the fans pop like crazy for him. He holds himself there for a minute, before hopping off and delivering the TV title off to the referee.

Centurion ©
- vs -
Betsy Granger
15 Minute Time Limit

HIGHLIGHT REEL

DING! DING! DING!

15:00

14:59

14:58

JC: And we are underway here on Warfare! Betsy and Centurion, two veterans of their craft, circling around as they're looking to get busy!

JR: They've both got that killer instinct glimmering in their eyes right now, but only one of them are gonna be able to make good on that.

The bell barely finishes echoing before Betsy charges across the ring, not waiting for a collar-and-elbow! She fires a karate-style roundhouse into Centurion's thigh before he can set his feet, and another quickly follows!

Centurion eats the first two and shoots his hand out for a tie-up, but Betsy spins away behind him, wrenching his wrist into a spinning armwringer! Cent doesn't wait though as he grunts, drops his shoulder, and rolls forward through the hold to reverse the pressure! Betsy releases and resets fast, both of them circling!

JC: We're seeing some early aggression here from Betsy, though. She's not here to feel this one out.

JR: That's smart from her, though. Fifteen minutes goes fast, if she can work her magic and throw Cent off his game in the early stages, then she's in position to take advantage.

Centurion is the one moving forward now, and this time he gets the lock-up he was wanting. He puts his strength advantage to good use, bullying Betsy into the ropes and working her over. The referee quickly gets involved, looking for a break… and Cent relents!

JC: Clean break here from our TV champ.

JR: I don't think Betsy would have given him the same privilege. Cent's gotta show some dominance here tonight to help him bounce back after last Warfare.

Betsy nods as Cent lowers his guard, backing up, but that's all the space she needs! Betsy detonates with a semi-circular kick that catches Cent right on the ear! The crowd pops for the harsh impact as Cent sucks in air through his teeth!

10:47

10:46

10:45

Betsy darts in, Cent looking to take her out with a lariat! Betsy rolls forward though, instead clocking Cent with a rolling Koppu kick! Centurion stumbles back, letting Betsy hop right up to her feet! She jumps up right in the air for a Hurricanrana-

CAUGHT BY CENT! BETSY CAN'T ROLL CENT OVER! Cent hoists her back up to a seated position! He throws her off now! Betsy lands on her feet-

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

JR: Holy shit-

JC: That bicycle knee from Centurion just clocked Betsy right on the chin! She looks dazed right now!

JR: Those twenty-plus years of instincts paying off in dividends right now!

Betsy stumbles around, trying to regain her composure, but inadvertently gives her back to Centurion! The TV Champ doesn't waste a second as he hoists her from behind… SAITO SUUUUUUUPLEX!

Betsy gets dropped right on her head as Cent holds the bridge for the pin!

OOOOOOOOOOONE!

TWOOOOOOOOOO!

KICKOUT!

JC: Centurion almost having it there, but not quite.

JR: Betsy showing a bit of her resilience there, but they've got a lot more match to get through here before one of them relents.

8:31

8:30

8:29

Centurion stands over the downed Betsy Granger, a look of irritation on his face as he can't quite put her away. He grits his teeth and grabs her by the wrist, looking to pull her up by the feet…

But Betsy comes alive! She counters into an arm drag that puts Cent right on the mat, and she's still got wrist control! She pushes Cent over onto his belly, transitioning into a Fujiwara Armbar! Cent is scrambling, but Betsy rolls over for a bridge!

JC: Betsy's so damn good at pulling something from out of nothing! This armbar is catching Centurion with his pants down!

JR: She's got the instincts of a caged animal, Jack. You can see Cent trying to keep up down below.

The ref gets down, asking Cent if he wants to give up! He roars a loud 'no' right into the ref's face as he powers onto his side, forcefully breaking up the bridge as Betsy rolls over! She's still got wrist control as they both come up onto their feet… but Cent pulls her in for a HEAVY knee to the ribs!

Betsy doubles over slightly, just enough for Centurion to catch her right on the chin with a standing dropkick! She stumbles back to the corner, huffing and puffing, as Cent looks to press his advantage! He rushes in!

But Betsy gets a boot up to cut him off! That one staggers Cent, letting Betsy jump right up… HURRICANRANA DRIVER RIGHT INTO THE SECOND TURNBUCKLE!

JC: PLANTE DE VISAGE! Folks, you can see a little color in the ring right now, I think Cent's nose got busted open from that impact there!

JR: I'd be surprised if he didn't completely break his nose there! Betsy absolutely hammered him with that driver!

Centurion stays on the second turnbuckle, slumped over with glassy eyes, as Betsy tries to finish this! She pulls him back right into a School Boy pin!

OOOOOOOONE!

TWOOOOOOOO!

KICKOUT!

JC: Both these fighters are rolling with the blows right now, but neither one of them are relenting.

JR: Something's gotta give though, Jack. We might go right down to the wire with this one.

4:45

4:44

4:43

Betsy has Cent from behind, trying to cinch in for her patented Snapmare Driver. Cent abruptly cuts her off with an elbow to the sternum, before abruptly moving back to jam her right into the corner! That takes the wind out of Betsy's sails as she doubles over!

Centurion staggers forward, leaning on the ropes to support himself and take a breath. Betsy tries to go forward again though as she sees Cent leaning!

Betsy runs, swerves around on the ropes! TIGER FEINT KICK- BUT CENTURION DUCKS UNDERNEATH!

JR: There's those instincts I was talking about again!

BETSY LANDS ON BOTH FEET INSIDE THE RING, BUT CENTURION YANKS HER TO THE CENTER FROM BEHIND! HE HOISTS HER UP… ANGLE SLAAAAAAAM!

JC: That's the 1000 Mile Slam! Centurion might have slammed Betsy all the way to China with that one!

JR: He's gotta cover her, though!

Centurion grimaces, slowly staying on top of Betsy as he pushes himself up for the cover!

OOOOOOOONE!

TWOOOOOOOO!

KICKOUT!

JC: Betsy's bleeding pride right now as she's scrapping to stay in this!

JR: But Centurion is actually bleeding right now! You can tell he's having trouble breathing through it! The longer this match goes, the more he's running out of energy!

JC: But can Betsy capitalize?!

Centurion pushes himself right onto his feet, cutting his arms off to the sides as he motions to the crowd that this is about to end! The fans pick up as they smell the blood in the water!

CENTURION GRABS BETSY BY THE ANKLES AS HE TRIES TO ROLL HER OVER!

JC: Centurion looking to lock in the Fall of Rome! That Boston Crab that's ended so many people before in this company!

JR: Look at Betsy, though! She's trying to fight it!

Betsy is fighting! Clawing! Trying everything to prevent Cent from rolling her over! It's a tug-of-war right now for control as Centurion is slowly pushing her!

Betsy with a right hand to the skull! And another! And one right to the broken nose! Centurion stumbles as blood gushes out!

BETSY JERKS HER LEGS AROUND TO THROW CENTURION OFF OF HER!

JC: She's still surviving by the skin of her teeth!

1:42

1:41

1:40

WHAM! A solid right hand knocks Centurion back!

WHAM! He replies with a left uppercut right on Betsy's chin!

But Betsy replies with a roundhouse to the gut!

Centurion now with an overhand!

WHAM!

WHAM!

WHAM!

WHAM!

WHAM!

WHAM!

JC: These two are throwing mortars at each other right now! And the crowd can't get enough of it!

JR: I don't think they want this match to end any time soon, but the clock is ticking!

Betsy ducks underneath another right hand from Centurion! She hooks both arms and is into Full Nelson position!

JC: Betsy trying to end it with the Ich Muss Dich Brechen!

JR: Centurion wisely keeping his feet out wide in front, though!

There's a struggle for positioning! Cent's lanky legs are too far in front for Betsy to catch! He scrambles to the corner, climbing up the turnbuckles before pushing himself back on top of Betsy!

BUT HER SHOULDERS ARE DOWN! IT'S A PIN!

OOOOOOOONE!

TWOOOOOOOO!

KICKOUT!

JR: I thought he had it there!

JC: CLOSE, BUT NO CIGAR!

1:09

1:08

1:07

Both competitors come up to their feet as Centurion backs up off the ropes… ONLY FOR HIM TO DETONATE FORWARD WITH A BUISAKU KNEE!

JC: THAT'S THE BLOODY SYMPHONY!

JR: HE COULD END IT RIGHT NOW IF HE COVERS HER!

BUT CENTURION PICKS HIMSELF RIGHT BACK ONTO HIS FEET!

HE DOESN'T HESITATE AS HE GRABS BETSY BY THE ANKLES!

AND ROLLS HER OVER INTO THE FALL OF ROME!

JC: CENTER OF THE RING! NOWHERE TO GO!

JR: BETSY'S TRYING TO CLAW TO THE ROPES!

0:46
0:45

0:44

BETSY IS SCREAMING! SHE'S CLAWING AT THE MAT!

SHE'S PUSHING HER WAY FORWARD THROUGH ALL THE SWEAT AND TEARS IN HER EYES!

THE REFEREE IS ASKING HER IF SHE WANTS TO GIVE UP!

SHE'S SCREAMING RIGHT IN HIS FACE!

0:29

0:28

0:27

BETSY'S ONLY A FOOT AWAY FROM THE ROPES AND SHE'S GAINING GROUND!

BUT CENTURION SITS BACK IN THE HOLD EVEN FURTHER!

JC: BETSY MIGHT SERIOUSLY GET HERSELF HURT AT THIS RATE!

JR: THERE'S NO SHAME IN TRYING TO LIVE AND FIGHT ANOTHER DAY, BETSY!

BETSY SLOWLY HOVERS HER HAND OVER THE MAT…

0:21

0:20

0:19

AND SHE TAPS OUT!

Winner and STILL Television Champion: Centurion!

JC: You called it, Joe, we went right down to the wire! Very hard-fought victory here for Centurion who retains with less than half a minute to spare!

JR: And that's why he's the champ at the end of the day. Give Betsy credit where it's due, she pushed him to his limits out there. I thought we were about to see another draw for a second there.

JC: But Centurion is just able to close the deal!

Centurion slumps onto his back, his face a bloody, disfigured mess as he looks up at the lights. The referee drapes the Television title onto his chest, and Centurion simply lets himself sit at ease as he drinks in his own music.

Betsy lies prone in the middle of the ring, her body slowly rising and falling with her breath. Pain is very clearly wracked throughout her body, her face contorted in disgust at herself.

But the crowd doesn't hesitate to cheer for them both.

JC: Don't you turn away, folks! Warfare is set to continue to roll on, and we've got our March Madness tournament matches next!

Warfare fades out to commercial.

JC: And now, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the March Madness Quarter Finals. Nine competitors, four matches, and four very unique settings. We start by heading to a secretive vault on a deserted island. Our XWF camera drones have descended 50 feet into the ground into the infamous ‘Money Pit’, where two men will enter seeking treasure and glory, but only one will be able to emerge with a chance to become King of the XWF. These two men are in very similar positions, aren’t they Joe?

JR: That’s right, Jacuinde! Asher Hayes has found success everywhere he has gone, but the success gradient in the XWF is a steep one. Legends of this industry have struggled to break through in one of the most intensely competitive environments in professional wrestling. Where Asher will find himself in the storybook of the XWF is entirely up to him.

JC: He punched his ticket to the Quarter Finals with a win over Latoya Hixx and El Landerson, but the tournament only gets harder as you progress. Here he comes now, entering the Money Pit!

The opening riff to "Song for the Dead" by Queens of the Stone Age kicks in. At the 37 second mark, the name "Asher Hayes" blares through the PA system. Asher appears in the entranceway to the pit, lit by candles. He has already cast aside his jacket, but before stepping onto the fighting grounds he bows down for a few moments. Eventually, he jerks up straight and throws both fists into the air.

“It's late enough to go driving
And see what's mine
Life's the study of dying
How to do it right"

There is no ramp to walk down, ring to pose in, or crowd to engage with. Asher instead remains focused as his music subsides.

JC: Asher Hayes looks ready to go, but he’s not the only one with a chance to make history!

JR: John Blade is a notorious competitor who is always full of energy and never short of something to say. Like Asher, he’s coming to the XWF with experience wrestling across the world. These are not rookies to the world of professional wrestling, but also like Asher, this is only his second match here. To succeed in March Madness and win the King of the XWF crown, he’s going to have to figure out the lay of the land quick.

JC: John Blade defeated Razor Blade and XWF’s extreme icon Barney Green in the opening round. Can he make it two from two? We’re about to find out!

“The Time is Now” hits as John Blade walks out from the same narrow entranceway that Asher Hayes did. The camera drone flies in his face, and he talks to it a little while bouncing on the spot. John holds up his “Never Give Up” logo flag and then tosses it to the side where it falls into the pit. He salutes and runs straight down the short distance towards where Asher waits. Tossing away his hat and shirt, he hands his chain to the ref who pockets it.

Both men take a moment to glance at their surroundings.

They stand on an elevated platform patterned like a spider-web, underneath a statue that a long-dead Italian merchant built in devotion to himself. Around the platform, there is a wide, uncrossable chasm before the walls. Water cascades down the gap into the deep abyss of certain death below.

JC: Ladies and gentlemen! The quarter finals of March Madness START NOW!

Money Pit

ROUND TWO
Asher Hayes
- vs -
John Blade
One Fall
Victory can be obtained by Pinfall, Submission, KO, or Ring-Out!

Hayes and Blade begin to circle each other, neither being quick to act.

JC: A cautious start here for both men, and I can't say that I blame them.

JR: Nor I. This is not just our first March Madness quarter final of the night. It’s also both men’s second match here in the XWF. Neither is a rookie, so they know the effect just one slip up can have.

JC: I’d have to imagine that here in the Money Pit, one slip up could have even worse consequences—like death![white]

Blade is the first to move, feinting towards Hayes’s left. Steely-eyed, Asher doesn't flinch. Blade goes again, moving to Asher’s right this time. It's not a feint! He swings a fist to test Asher's reactions, but Asher passes the test with flying colors!

He ducks under! Blade turns around and… SPEAR!

[white]JC: Holy hell! It's over just like that!

Asher covers!

1!

2!

John Blade powers out!

A wild grin comes over Hayes’s face as he pursues John Blade.

Blade, shocked at his opponent's early explosiveness, pushed to his feet.

Hayes is right there firing off fists that keeps Blade reeling. Blade covers up to protect himself, and Hayes gives him a moment of reprieve. But as soon as Blade's hands drop, Hayes is right back at it! He floors John Blade with a lariat takedown and goes right back into another cover!

1!

2!

Again, Blade powers out.

JC: Asher Hayes seems intent on ending this one quickly!

Hayes pulls Blade to his feet, but John Blade still has the wherewithal to shove his foe back.

Hayes presses again, locking Blade in a headlock, but after an early struggle Blade manages to drive his elbow into Asher's abdomen. A few more strikes frees Hayes's grip and when Asher tries once more to press the advantage, Blade quickly slides down into a drop toe hold.

Hayes hits the ground and a strange CLICK can be heard.

Hayes and Blade both look confused.

Suddenly, a series of arrows lets loose right at where Hayes is lying!

He rolls out of the way just in time!

JC: What the hell was that?! This stage wasn't supposed to have any hazards! …aside from falling.

JR: This pit is a vault where an old rich asshole kept all of his treasure. Do you really think that it wouldn't have booby traps? All the rich assholes I know have booby traps!

JC: Even the Trillionaires?

JR: They're not assholes! …but yes. It's called the terms and conditions of their services.

JC: Okay, that’s fair. I'm pretty sure this isn't how this stage works in the game though…

Fuming from almost being riddled with arrows, Hayes squares off with Blade once more.

They lock up, and though Hayes has a slight height and reach advantage, the power of John Blade overwhelms him. Quickly, Blade elbows him in the neck and then follows it up with a clubbing blow to Hayes's back. He flips him over with a gutwrench slam and then mounts, driving unprotected punches down into Hayes's head.

Satisfied with his damage, he dismounts and begins to stalk Asher Hayes who sways as he stands.

Spin out powerbomb!

Blade stands over a fallen Hayes and poses for a crowd that… isn't in the Money Pit.

A crowd, somewhere, responds anyway!

“U CAN'T SEE ME!”

JR: Wait… where did he go?!

JC rolls his eyes as John Blade—very much visible—takes a few steps back and dusts off his shoulder to hit the Five Knuckle Shuffle.

CLICK!

Confused, Blade stops.

Suddenly his eyes widen and he ducks just in time to avoid a giant ball of spikes careening into his face!

JC: Oh my god! Did we really have to put two of our newest stars in a position where they might not even get another match?

JR: This is a VAULT. What part of that are you not getting?

JC: The part where it might cost someone their life!

JR: It’s like Adam Smith, JC, “steal from the poor because if you steal from the rich you'll get killed.”

JC: …I don't think he said that but it sounds plausible enough in this economy that I can't really argue it.

JR: Jamie looked it up, so it's legit.

With Blade distracted by the near-death experience, Hayes strikes again and rolls him up from behind.

1!

2!

Blade kicks out, but the frustration on his face at Hayes's repeated pitfalls is clear.

He slugs Hayes as they both rise, but Hayes socks him right back. The two begin to exchange punches and that same non-present crowd begins to chant with each punch.

“Boo! Yeah! Boo! Yeah!”

The inane audience is interrupted by another CLICK.

Neither Hayes nor Blade even breaks their stride as they separate and let a giant wooden beam swing down between them. They just get right back to it, trading punches out of the beam's way.

Eventually the exchange starts going Blade's way but Asher stomps on Blade's foot and takes control with a hammerlock. Blade struggles against it but eventually manages to power out and turn it around into his own hammerlock. Before he can get it cinched in, Hayes drops to a knee and flips Blade over. He grabs Blade by the wrist and spins him into a short-arm lariat.

Blade rises and gets trapped straight into an STO!

JC: AGAIN a cover by Asher Hayes!

1!

2!

Blade rolls a shoulder!

Asher Hayes hits the mat, half in frustration and half to psych himself up for a new strategy.

He grabs Blade's legs and steps over them with his own, wrapping around them. Blade fights back but Hayes continues trying to muscle him over.

JC: He’s got him! He’s got him over! Dream Killer!

JR: John Blade’s dreams of being King of the XWF are being killed right before our eyes!

Blade still has enough in him to fight and even though Hayes gets him over, Blade powers his legs down and frees himself before Hayes's version of the Edgecator can be fully locked in.

Hayes stumbles forward. He turns.

Blade snaps him over his shoulders for the Death Valley Drop!

But Hayes wiggles his way down and behind Blade.

Another roll up!

1–no!

Blade keeps rolling!

He pops up and drives an elbow into Hayes's neck again! And again! And again!

Hayes is vulnerable!

Trying to get up, he's met with a running neck snap.

John Blade makes the cover!

1!

2!

Asher Hayes kicks out!

Blade is waiting for him when he gets up.

Vertical suplex!

Blade floats over when they hit the ground.

1!

2!

Hayes kicks out again!

JC: This action is really picking up now!

Emerald flowsion from John Blade to Asher Hayes!

Another cover!

1!

2!

Kick out!

JC: All the momentum that Asher Hayes built early on has been absolutely turned on its head by The Surgeon of Thugs!

JR: So is he a surgeon who is a thug or a surgeon who performs exclusively on thugs? Or is he just in the T.H.U.G.s employment or something?

JC: Yes.

John Blade lines Asher Hayes up and hoists him onto his shoulder.

JC: Death Valley Drop time!

With Blade holding Hayes in a fireman's carry position, there's suddenly another CLICK!

Blade drops Hayes backwards, not trying to hit his finisher and instead just getting out of the way of slicing blades that shoot across the room. They barely miss Asher Hayes as he falls.

But, as has been the case many times now, the booby traps breaks up the momentum one of the competitors was trying to build, and this time it gives Asher Hayes the chance to shoot in on John Blade.

Falcon arrow!

Cover!

1!

2!

2.5!

Blade just kicks out!

But Asher Hayes is already lining him up!

JC: This is looking like déjà vu… SPEAR!

Hayes charges, but unlike with his opening gambit, John Blade manages to jump over him.

Asher Hayes pulls back at the last minute to avoid toppling off the edge of the platform!

But he's quickly hit with a running leaping shoulder block that drops him to the ground!

And a second for good measure!

Spin out powerbomb once again!

“U CAN'T SEE ME!”

He hits the Five Knuckle Shuffle!

John Blade then puts Asher Hayes on his shoulders!

JC: He's going to Death Valley Drop him off the platform and into the darkness below!

Hayes struggles! He hits Blade with elbow after elbow! Blade loosens up enough for Hayes to drop down behind him!

Hayes snaps him up into a suplex position but holds him in the air before swinging him down into a side slam!

JC: That's it! That's the Breakdown! The new move that Asher Hayes hyped this week!

Asher Hayes makes the cover.

1!

2!

3!

Winner and Advancing to the March Madness Semifinal: Asher Hayes

[/b]

JC: After a valiant fight from fellow newcomerJohn Blade, Asher Hayes eventually put him down to move on to the semi-finals of March Madness!

JR: Leading up to this match, he made it clear he wanted to test himself against the best competition the XWF has to offer! No matter how the rest of the night plays out, that's exactly what he's going to get next!

JC: Ladies and gentlemen, the March Madness Quarterfinals continue now! We are not in an arena tonight—we are on the open ocean on the very deck of a pirate vessel!

JR: I’ve done a lot of weird shows, Jacuinde… but fighting a 63-year-old man on a pirate ship chasing cursed treasure? This is up there.

[b]“When greed summons warriors to the edge of the abyss… destiny sharpens its blade!”

JC: …And apparently destiny is also on commentary tonight.

[yputube]N2fwUbvDI_s[/youtube]

The opening riff of The hangman's body count by Volbeat starts to play throughout the Pirate Ship as the lights dim. Several red and purple laser lights envelope the stage as Matthias Syn casually walks through the curtain. As he steps onto the stage, he stops and acknowledges those in attendance by stretching both arms forward while touching his balled up fists together.

[white]JC: We’ve seen vignettes hinting his return! We even saw him declare for March Madness! But I genuinely cannot believe Matthias Syn is finally back!

JR: The Syn City Saint! He made it last year to the Final Four of March Madness! And this year, he’s only looked more dominant! He shredded one more opponent than everyone else in the first round! He beat Mister Oz AND both Bing Bong Twinzz!

JC: I said it last Warfare, Matthias Syn is a big-match competitor! The opportunity to strike down someone celebrated gives him an extra bit of gas… He loves beating someone that the world lifts on high… revealing them as phony! The only issue here is… Scoops is the Real Deal!

JR: We’ll see about that, won’t we, Jacuinde? The Matthias Syn Revolution WILL NOT BE STOPPED!

After several seconds he begins to nonchalantly walk down the road toward the mast, not allowing the fans slash pirate ghosts to touch him. He slides over the gate onto the deck, jumps to his feet and poses. He takes off his red leather shearling coat, hands it to a ring crew ghost and leans against the mast…

…

The deck of the pirate ship creaks violently as waves slam against the hull. Lanterns sway from their hooks. Salt spray lashes the planks. In the distance, jagged rocks jut out from the Dubai coastline like teeth waiting to bite down on any foolish sailor.

Two men stand where a ring might normally be… but tonight there are no ropes, no apron, no safety net. Only slick planks, mast rigging, and the endless sea below.

Matthias Syn and Scoops McGee circle.

The wind howls. (The Pirate battle equivalent of a bell ringing).

Pirate Raid

ROUND TWO
Scoops McGee
- vs -
Matthias Syn
One Fall
Victory can be obtained by Pinfall, Submission, KO, or Ring-Out!

Stage Hazard - WIND AND STORMY WATERS

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Syn’s lips curl into a smug grin, his eyes flicking around the deck with theatrical curiosity — as if admiring the chaos of the setting.

Scoops squints at him with open irritation, jaw grinding like a rusted gear.

Syn mockingly wipes imaginary sea spray from his shoulder… and casually flicks it toward Scoops.

JC: Ooooh, Syn showing no respect for Scoops McGee! Nor did he when he brought up Scoops’ failings as a father in his promo leading up to this match!

JR: Why the Hell would he? Do you think a revolutionary should respect the old man rigidly upholding the status quo? Syn isn’t here to bow down to the structure, he’s here to TOPPLE IT!

Scoops’ nostrils flare, but he doesn’t react as Syn grins…

Suddenly! Syn surges forward! Right h-

WHAM! Scoops catches Syn under the chin with a right uppercut!

Syn’s head snaps sideways as the blow echoes across the deck.

JC: WOW! Syn tries to bait Scoops into a rage, but Scoops is measured! Firing off a right hand with impeccable timing!

Syn staggers three steps across the planks, blinking rapidly, his smirk gone…

Scoops steps forward warily, looking for a grapple…

But Syn side-steps… and delivers a low kick to Scoops’ calf!

Scoops drops to one knee, cradling his leg!

JC: Oooof! Underhanded strike by Matthias Syn!

JR: Sorry if the revolutionaries don’t play by the rules set up by those that benefit from them AND barely follow them themselves, Jacuinde!

JC: …Joe, I feel like you’re painting Scoops like he’s some corporate elite. Isn’t he a farmer?

JR: SEMANTICS!

Scoops tries to rise up… but ends up back on one knee, face seething in pain… The official goes to check on h-

Syn suddenly springs forward with a Step-Up Enzuigiri!

His boot whips across Scoops’ temple!

Scoops stumbles sideways, grabbing a rope line tied to the mast to steady himself.

JR: Syn answers right back with that lightning quick offense!

JC: What the Hell?!? The official was trying to check if Scoops can even compete in this match!

JR: Well, he should have done it QUICKER than lightning quick, Jacuinde!
[/b]

Scoops shakes his head slowly, the old veteran’s expression turning sour and ornery, as Syn scoops him off the deck by the scruff of McGee’s neck…

Syn delivers a… European Uppercut! Driving McGee’s skull back…

…But McGee keeps his footing…

Syn backs up to the edge of the ship… He goes to follow it up with a…

Running boot!

…

But Scoops side-steps! As Syn whirs by, Scoops grabs Syn by the collar and yanks him in close…

CATTLE PROD! CATTLE PROD TO THE JAW!

Syn collapses to a knee instantly, clutching his jaw.

JR: Oh my GOD, that sounded like a thunder clap even from here, Jacuinde!

JC: Scoops is clearly eager to get this match wrapped and get off this ship quickly… this ship is aimed for the Strait of Hormuz!

Scoops surges forward, grabbing Syn by the skull, driving his hip into Syn’s gut…

Scoops latches on with a front facelock…

Looking for a…

VERTICAL SUPLEX!

…

But Syn flips over McGee with the lift, landing on his feet with his back towards McGee’s!

McGee spins around…

…Just in time for Syn to tear off a…

PELE KICK!

Syn’s heel smashing into Scoops’ chin!

JC: Holy cow! We’ve seen Syn’s explosive offense before, but has it ever looked this… crisp? This absolutely seamless in execution?

JR: Syn

Scoops reels backward into the mast, looking woozy…

But Syn doesn’t give him even a moment to recover… The Syn City Saint sprints across the deck…

Scoops, working off instinct, raises his guard, ready for a strike!

But Syn suddenly jukes right! Scoops drops his guard perplexed… As Matthis rebounds off a crate by the mast…

FLYING LEG LARIAT!

Both men crash onto the planks.

[white]JC: Wow! Syn using this very unconventional environment beautifully to his advantage in the early-going!

Scoops rolls onto his side, grimacing… but the pain only seems to irritate him further.

He pushes himself upright with a grunt.

Syn rises too, bouncing on his feet, cocky grin returning.

Syn theatrically bows.

Scoops scowls.

JC: Syn is an irritant! He thrives when he can tap into the energy of a frustrated opponent!

JR: And Scoops McGee has a lifetime of frustration! Of never winning the big one! Of never being enough! Of never being able to get those damn kids not to play on his lawn!

Scoops surges forward, looking for another…

CATTLE PROD!

…But this time Syn sees it coming! He goes for an arm trap wrist lock, twisting Scoops, trying to drive him down against the deck!

JC: Oh wow! Syn might be going for a SYNTheory early! Scoops is dealing with an injured wrist, that is NOT where McGee wants to be!

Syn sneers sadistically as he bullies Scoops into position…

When Scoops suddenly twists backwards out of Syn’s grip, catching Syn from behind! In a flash, Scoops hooks Syn’s waist—

BACK SUPLEX!

Syn crashes violently against the wet planks.

The ship rocks.

Syn writhes.

JC: The veteran reminding Syn that fundamentals still matter!

JR: But how close did Syn just come to the victory there, Jacuinde! It’s only a matter of time! How many more counters does Scoops have in his bag? And I don’t mean in this match, I mean, in his old, decrepit body!

Scoops bends over Syn

He grabs Scoops’ leg as the veteran tries to pull him up.

Syn spins on his back—

Dragon Screw into a SPINNING TOE HOLD!

Scoops yells as his knee twists violently.

JC: Oh my! Syn is locking to really test Scoops’ joints, one by one, seeing which one might break!

JC: Like someone trying to win a game of wishbone with themselves, Jacuinde! Syn’s wish is becoming Universal Champion and he knows it’ll come true if he SNAPS McGee’s knee in half!

Scoops claws at the deck, veins bulging in his neck as he fights the torque.

Syn leans forward, eager to apply additional torque to Scoops’ leg…

But as Syn draws closer, Scoops summons the wherewithal to boot Syn in the face!

TWICE

THREE TIMES! And this time, Syn staggers backwards, releasing the hold!

Both men rise slowly.

The ship tilts with a crashing wave.

They instinctively grab opposite sides of the mast to keep balance.

For a moment… they just glare.

Syn wipes blood from his lip.

Scoops cracks his knuckles.

Syn suddenly laughs.

Scoops charges…

But Syn turns sideways, ready to deliver a decapitating…

SUPERKICK!

…

But Scoops ducks under!

JR: Wow! I didn’t Scoops could still pull a counter that quick!

JC: Shades of his prime in Japan, Joe! Battling Shimizu Kenji in Korakuen Hall! Scoops McGee is winding back the clock one more time…

He grabs Syn by the back of the head.

REVERSE DDT!

Syn spikes into the wood.

JC: My goodness! Scoops planted him!

Scoops covers.

A soaked pirate referee slides in.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NO! SYN KICKS OUT!

JC: Nearfall! Scoops McGee almost had Syn there!

JR: But with every move Syn survives, Scoops loses a little bit more energy, a little bit more grit! It’s a war of attrition here on the High Seas and it’s one Syn is destined to win! Did you know this is Syn’s thirty-third match in the XWF?

JC: …Is that true?

JR: …Well, no, it’s his 31st. BUT! If he wins tonight AND in the semifinals at March Madness… his 33rd match in his XWF career will be with KING OF THE XWF ON THE LINE!

JC: …Okay? Neat coincidence?

JR: CALL THE VATICAN!

Scoops exhales as he bends over one knee to grapple Syn back up to a vertical base… but the Syn City Saint rolls away, breathing hard, frustration etched across his face.

Scoops pushes up slowly, clearly already feeling the early fatigue.

JC: That might be the biggest early difference here… Scoops cannot afford a long match tonight.

JR: It’s out of Scoops’ hands now, Jacuinde! Syn fights like a man driven not by the function of his lungs and the breathing of his heart, but by the spirit of Revolution itself! Scoops is a man, Syn IS CHANGE PERSONIFIED!

Scoops, breathing heavily, forces himself forward to attack Syn…

But Syn leapfrogs over Scoops… and using his forward momentum!

Syn suddenly sprints up the rigging rope attached to the mast, behind Scoops!

JC: WAIT! Where is he going?!

He climbs a good eight feet up the mast, balancing against the sail beam.

Scoops turns around…

As Syn backflips off!

[b]“Behold! The warrior who dares the heavens themselves!”

DIVING CROSSBODY!

AND BOTH COMPETITORS CRASH DOWN ONTO THE DECK! IMMOBILE!

JC: Holy SHIT! What a move by Matthias Syn! I think he forgot, even if he pulls off the win here, he’s got two more rounds to go! He almost sacrificed himself to take out Scoops!

Syn exhaustedly manages to lift his head off the deck.. His face twisted in a spent but elated sneer… as he turns himself over on top of Scoops…

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOO! SCOOPS FORCES A SHOULDER OFF THE MAT!

Syn’s eyes go wide! He thought that was it for sure!

JR: HOW IN THE HELL?!?

JC: Scoops’ hopes and dreams for the Universal title live on!
[/b]

Syn peels an exhausted Scoops off the deck… He pulls him backward into a Guillotine choke… Looking for a…

SYNTHESIS!

…But Scoops twists around… He heaves Syn off his feet!

BACK BODY DROP!

…But Syn lands on his feet! He spins around…

RIGHT INTO A CATTLE PROD FROM SCOOPS MCGEE!

JC: Another Cattle Prod! And this one caught Syn right in the breadbasket! He’s gonna have a hard time prattling about his Revolution after that one!

Syn drops to his knees.

Scoops’ eyes light up.

He hooks Syn’s head—

JC: OH MY! Could he already be looking for the BIG SCOOP?!

Scoops tries to lift him for the Scoop Slam Piledriver—

But Syn’s eyes suddenly snap open.

With pure survival instinct—

He explodes upward with a HIGH KNEE straight into Scoops’ face!

Scoops collapses backward against the mast.

Syn staggers up on jelly legs.

Then charges—

RUNNING SOMERSAULT NECKBREAKER!

Scoops crashes to the deck.

JR: That’s gotta do it right there!

Syn scrambles into a quick pin!

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEE-NO! AGAIN, SCOOPS MCGEE KICKS OUT!

Both men roll apart, breathing heavily.

Salt spray crashes across the deck again.

Lantern light flickers across their exhausted faces.

Syn rises first, hair whipping wildly in the sea wind.

Scoops pulls himself up slower… gripping his aching ribs.

They stare each other down once more.

JC: Neither man willing to yield!

JR: And we’re just getting started, man. These guys are gonna kill each other before this ship even reaches shore.

[b]“Two warriors now sail the storm of destiny… but only one shall claim the horizon of glory!”

The ship creaks violently as another massive wave slams the hull.
[/b]

Syn darts in low, frustration flashing across his face as he lashes out with a Superkick aimed at Scoops’ jaw!

But Scoops’ eyes widen in stubborn defiance — the veteran jerks his head aside at the last possible second and snatches Syn’s leg out of the air!

JC: What reflexes by Scoops McGee! He caught the Superkick!

Syn’s expression instantly turns from confidence to alarm as he hops on one leg, trying to keep his balance on the wet deck.

Scoops snarls — and spins—

DRAGON SCREW!

Syn’s knee twists violently as he crashes onto the planks!

JR: Oh man! Scoops just returned the favor on that knee!

Syn grabs his leg instinctively, teeth clenched in pain… but rage quickly replaces the pain.

Scoops stalks forward, sensing blood in the water.

He reaches down, hauling Syn up by the wrist—

But Syn’s eyes suddenly sharpen.

Syn drops his weight and yanks Scoops forward, using the veteran’s own momentum to sling him chest-first into the mast!

Scoops crashes against the wood with a dull THUD!

JC: Counter! Syn used Scoops’ strength against him!

Scoops reels backward—

Right into Syn’s waiting arms!

Syn hooks him around the waist!

GERMAN SUPLEX—

But Scoops plants his boots wide!

The old veteran’s face twists with stubborn refusal as he throws violent elbows backward into Syn’s temple.

Syn’s grip loosens—

Scoops spins around!

LARIAT—

Syn ducks!

Syn rebounds off the mast—

STEP-UP ENZUIGIRI!

His boot cracks across Scoops’ temple!

Scoops staggers!

Syn grabs him—

SWINGING SNAP DDT—

NO!

Scoops shoves him away mid-spin!

Syn stumbles toward the edge of the deck, barely catching himself on a rope line before going overboard.

JC: This is chaos! Neither man can string together the finishing blow!

Syn pulls himself back onto the deck, hair whipping wildly in the storm wind.

Scoops charges him the moment his boots touch the planks—

But Syn suddenly leaps forward with a LEAPING TORNADO DDT!

Scoops instinctively blocks it!

The veteran catches Syn mid-rotation and muscles him upward—

JR: OH MY GOD!

BACK SUPLEX ATTEMPT—

But Syn flips out again!

Both men stagger apart from the impact.

They turn back toward each other instantly.

Scoops’ chest heaves violently now.

Syn wipes blood from his lip again.

Their eyes lock.

JC: This has become a battle of pure instinct! Every move is being countered!

[b]“Two blades clash upon the storm-tossed sea… each seeking the single moment where destiny falters!”

Syn lunges first!

He hooks Scoops’ arm — twisting for a SATELLITE SHOULDER HOLD!

Scoops grunts in pain—

But he suddenly powers forward instead of resisting!

He lifts Syn clean off the deck—

ATOMIC DROP!

Syn’s eyes bulge as he bounces awkwardly off Scoops’ knee.

Scoops grabs him—

DDT—

Syn blocks!

He shoves Scoops backward—

SUPERKICK!

Scoops barely ducks again!

Scoops grabs Syn around the waist—

BACKSIDE DRIVER—

Syn wriggles free!

Both men spin—

Scoops swings for another CATTLE PROD!

Syn catches the arm!

Syn twists behind him—

TIGER SUPLEX ATTEMPT!

Scoops throws his weight forward desperately to block it!

They stumble across the slick deck… boots sliding against the soaked planks as the ship rocks violently beneath them. Off in the distance, sirens blare as a massive wave begins to take form- accelerating forward at violent speeds.

Neither man has control.

Both are fighting for it.

Scoops hooks Syn’s head as the wave in the distance draws nearer.

Syn traps Scoops’ arm as the rushing winds roar louder.

Each man trying to force the other into position—

As a tremendously violent wave suddenly ROCKS the pirate ship, rising from the depths of the ocean like the hand of Poseidon!

The ocean fell upon the ship with swift determination, crashing into the wooden deck and tearing through the fabric sails! The raging sea tore Syn and Scoops from their footing like toys swept from a table!

JC: BY GAWD! Someone needs to stop this damn match! These boys have wound up in the middle of a damn tsunami!

JR: That’s what March Madness is all about! Rip-roaring circumstances, great comebacks, and yes, sometimes, NATURAL DISASTERS IN INTERNATIONAL WATERS!

Matthias Syn was hurled across the deck, crashing through the shattered rail as the massive wave plunged him into the watery darkness below. Scoops McGee was dragged beneath the churning flood as it roared across the ship, rolling him like driftwood through splintered beams and snagging ropes…ropes that Scoops held onto for dear life!

JR: That massive wave just ripped Syn from the deck!

JC: But Scoops is still hanging onto his dream by a thread!

As the wave finally passes, the ship comes out looking much worse for wear on the other side. The sails are missing, the deck has been completely ripped apart…and only one competitor remains aboard.

SCOOPS pulls himself back to deck, carefully lifting his body up a frail rope connected to the ship’s downed mast!

Winner by Ring Out and Advancing in the March Madness Semi-Final - Scoops McGee

Scoops McGee raises his hands in victory before collapsing to his knees in exhaustion. The battle against Matthias Syn had taken almost everything out of him, but Scoops released a sigh of relief as he clinched his spot in the semi-finals.

JC: Scoops survives! Scoops advances!

JR: Scoops’ wave of momentum carries on! But I have to say, Matthias Syn almost had him! If it hadn’t been for that massive wave, I don’t think Scoops would have made it to the semi-finals!

JC: And if a frog had wings it could fly, but now, there’s nothing hypothetical about it! The dream of Scoops McGee lives on!

JR: But uh…where the hell is Matthias Syn?

Rescue boats from the gulf states come flying into screen with their sirens blaring and their lights flashing, trying to locate the overboard wrestler.

JC: We had better cut to a commercial break!

JR: Folks, don’t go anywhere- cause we’ll be right back with more X-treme Madness action right after this!

[/b]

JC: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the March Madness Quarterfinals! We are not inside a wrestling ring tonight — we are inside Ivy Valentine’s Prague residence from Soul Calibur V!

JR: Look at this place! Ancient statues, weird science equipment, creepy mirrors — this feels like the kind of house where a wizard kidnaps you and steals your spine.

"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 ramp, 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.

Halfway down, Jenny stops.

JR: Jenny Myst pulled off an incredible performance against Game Girl last Warfare!

JC: It was a controversial victory, one that involved Myst and Game Girl both claiming credit for knocking out Deena Hixx… And then Deena tried to re-enter the match and ambushed Game Girl, which gave Jenny Myst the opportunity to strike and seal the win!

JR: You talk like it was all random chance, but it wasn’t, Jacuinde! It was all according to Jenny Myst’s master plan! She controls the horizontal and the vertical! SHE is the master of her destiny! It’s Jenny Myst’s world, baby! We’re all just living in it!

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.

As she saunters down the steps of the Prague Residence, she wipes her boots on each step with exaggerated care before stepping up, climbing to the second floor with smooth precision. No wasted movement. No nerves. Inside the ring, she walks straight to the center, turning once more as the music continues to snarl through the residence.

The music fades.

[b]”And suddenly, the Prague Residence feels smaller.”

…

…

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

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

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my [b]DEATHLIST."[/b]

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

JC: Dickie Watson! A very recent former Universal champion! He looked absolutely dominant in his first round match against Apathy and Betsy Granger! Can he go the distance and become a two-time Universal champion?

JR: Dickie shouldn’t want to come NEAR the Universal title! He should be filing a restraining order! His career was going great before he fell ass backwards into that belt at War Games! Then, he and Scoops blow a handicap match against SEB… he loses a match against Kieran King and Centurion on Warfare… then, he loses a match with Charlie Nickles on the show before his first PPV defense! He loses the belt at Snow Pain, Snow Gain… and then immediately gets back to his winning ways!

JC: I think you’re oversimplifying it, Joe. Dickie is driven by the climb. The desire to ascend and prove he belongs at the top! While it’s true he had a rough go as Universal champion… that only drives his hunger to prove his championship reign wasn’t a fluke! He wants more than anything to climb back to the mountain’s peak and this time prove he has what it takes to remain on the top! But to do that, he’s gonna have to find a way past Jenny Myst!

JR: An IMPOSSIBLE task!

JC: Maybe… but Dickie’s pulled off impossible tasks before, Rogan!

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

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

…

Moonlight pours through stained windows and fractures across the mirrored statues of Wisdom and Art, scattering pale light across the improvised battlefield.

Between them stands Dickie Watson and Jenny Myst.

A wide stone hallway.

Ancient statues.

A railing that overlooks a long drop into the residence below.

No ropes.

No ring.

Just space… and consequences.

Before the match begins… Dickie rolls his shoulders, loose and relaxed despite the unfamiliar battlefield.

Jenny stands still.

Too still.

Her eyes roam the environment first… not Dickie.

JR: Jenny Myst doesn’t play by anybody’s rules but her own. She doesn’t care about being the best wrestler, she cares about breaking the system that deems itself fit to judge her!

JC: That’s all well and good, Joe… but she’s up against the man who takes any style and breaks it down to its base components… Who naturally frustrates everyone he comes across! Dickie Watson!

Myst’s eyes turn over the Prague ResidenceThe railings.

The corners.

The spacing between statues.

The distance to the edge.

Then her gaze finally lands on him.

She smiles.

“Two souls converge upon a battlefield where eternity watches. Let the dance of destiny begin!”

JR: I swear to God if that voice starts narrating my life I’m quitting the show.

JC: Joe, I still have no idea what voice you’re talking about.

A bell echoes through the vast halls of the Prague Residence — the chime reverberating across marble floors, alchemical apparatus, and towering statues locked forever in thorned embrace.

JC: …Sorry, was that the bell? It usually isn’t that haunting.

DING DING!

JC: Okay, no, *that* was the bell.

House of Valentine: Prague Residence

ROUND TWO
Dickie Watson
- vs -
Jenny Myst
One Fall
Victory can be obtained by Pinfall, Submission, KO, or Ring-Out!

HIGHLIGHT REEL

The moment the bell rings, Jenny slowly shuffles…

Backing *away* from Dickie…

Toward the railing.

Dickie notices immediately.

His brow raises.

He follows…

JC: Jenny Myst immediately surveying the terrain here! Remember what makes this year’s tournament different from years in the past: Victory by Ring Out!

JR: In some sports, stepping out of bounds means stoppage. Here? It means your entire journey comes to a sudden, abrupt end!

JC: I think what’s most twisted is… Jenny might rather win by ring out than any other way! She gets a special thrill out of outwitting her opponents! She was even happy to have Game Girl defeat her at Snow Pain, Snow Gain… because it made keeping the X-Treme title out of her hands all the more delicious!

Finally, Jenny finishes her back-stepping, stopping near the edge… A drop-off from the second floor… to a black abyss below…

She gestures toward Dickie with a little “come here” wave.

Dickie sighs through his nose, half amused.

He steps forward cautiously, seeking to grapple up…

Jenny’s feet to move to counter his approach… but Jenny’s eyes seem more focused on Dickie’s footwork than his efforts to enter a collar and elbow…

Watching his footing.

Calculating distance.

Dickie notices that too.

His lips twitch as the two circle each other…

JR: Jenny, focused like a HAWK on her opponent’s weaknesses! She knows one wrong misstep will send Dickie out of the combat zone and out of the tournament!

Suddenly, Dickie bursts forward—

Jenny’s eyes widen slightly in anticipation…

Myst tries to read a clothesline or crossbody into a…

Back body drop!

JC: Jenny seems eager to try and win this showdown in one move!

—But! As Jenny goes to lift Dickie over her head and into the abyss, Dickie swings his weight down! Arm drag! Whipping Jenny back the other direction, away from the drop-off!

Jenny manages to somersault and keep a vertical base! She turns sharply, irritation flashing across her face.

JC: Dickie already disrupting Jenny’s plan!

JR: That’s the thing about puzzle solvers — if you’re unpredictable, you’re a nightmare.
[/b]

Jenny exhales slowly.

Composure returning.

Her eyes narrow.

Dickie stands relaxed… arms loose at his sides.

Her jaw tightens.

JC: Jenny is a troll… and ironically, Dickie remaining cool as a cucumber seems to frustrating her!

JR: You say troll like it’s a pejorative, Jacuinde! Jenny isn’t a troll, she’s a provocateur! She’s out here to reveal the XWF for what it is! She’s been around the world, dominated everywhere she’s gone, and come back here, ready to make it clear that she’s playing chess, while the rest of the XWF is playing duck, duck, goose!

Suddenly, Myst lunges forward with a Forearm Smash aimed for Watson’s jaw—

…But pivots aside and snatches her wrist— He hoists himself, wrapping his legs around her neck!

Headscissors takedown!

…

No!

Jenny flips across the marble and rolls smoothly to a knee.

Her face shows annoyance… but also interest.

Dickie shrugs playfully.

JR: See that? Do you call that getting mad? Jenny’s playing with Dickie! He thought he had control for half a second and Myst turned it into a gymnastics routine.

JC: These two are among the best in the XWF at counter-punching! At choosing the moment to strike their opponent in the middle of a move sequence and take them out in one move! I think these two people both realize how hard of a time they’re going to have frustrating an opponent as frustrating as… each other!

Jenny smirks.

She lunges again—

This time grabbing his head with a side headlock, twisting hard.

Dickie grimaces as pressure pulls his spine sideways, having to twist down and bend to Jenny’s five foot height…

Jenny drags him toward the railing.

Dickie’s eyes flick toward the drop.

Jenny notices.

Her grin widens.

She tries to legsweep him backward toward the edge—

But Dickie suddenly flips backward through the motion—

Hurricanrana counter!

Jenny tumbles across the floor, sliding dangerously close to a statue’s base.

JC: Incredible counter! Myst’s Plan A was drawing the action close to that drop-off… but live by the ring-out… maybe die by the ring-out! Dickie has managed to turn things around and now Myst looks dangerously close to the edge here!

Jenny pops up immediately, brushing hair from her face.

Her smile is thinner now.

She circles again.

Her mind clearly recalculating.

Dickie bounces lightly on his feet.

Jenny suddenly darts forward—

Thesz Press!

She tackles him to the marble floor!

JR: Never count out her XCellency! Jenny Myst is already X-Treme Royalty, being the Lady King of the XWF would just be another spoil of war for her Highness of Violence!

Her expression flashes savage satisfaction as she rains down a rapid barrage of closed fist punches toward his head… Eventually, she becomes dissatisfied with her fists and stands up to start stomping Dickie from above!

Dickie raises his forearms defensively, managing to withstand the blows… or at least prevent any clean shots from rocking him!

JR: Jenny is attacking Dickie like an attack dog out here!

Dickie reaches out for Jenny above him, looking for a judo roll throw to break her barrage…

But instead, Jenny grabs Dickie’s wrist and rolls sideways—

Crucifix Pin!

ONE!

T-Dickie kicks out at one!

Jenny rolls away with a sharp exhale of annoyance.

JC: Myst is looking at every opportunity to steal this victory/white]

[white]JR: Of course! Jenny Myst wants the quickest victory possible![ This tournament is only as much of a marathon as you’re willing to make it, Jacuinde! Everyone else is waging half-hour wars, only to face tougher opponents later… Jenny’s trying to conserve her energy to blow through the Final Four!

After another effort to grapple breaks down as the two each go for feints and counters, they both end up backward rolling a few feet apart…

JC: Haha, this is nuts, Joe! Both these two are ready to counter what they think the other is going to do!

Dickie rises slowly.

He wipes his lip with his thumb.

Jenny tilts her head… studying his breathing.

Her eyes flick to the railing again.

She lunges suddenly—

Grabbing his arm—

As her legs lift around his neck! Seeking a…

Tilt-a-whirl Headscissors!

Dickie spins violently—

Jenny tries to transition into an Inside Cradle near the edge—

But Dickie’s eyes widen in realization.

He plants his palm on the marble mid-rotation—

Cartwheels out, maintaining his footing!

As Myst starfish kips up to a vertical base, Dickie goes for a decapitating…

Spinning Roundhouse Kick!

…

But Jenny ducks just in time, the kick whistles past her nose.

JC: The speed is picking up!

JR: This is what happens when a strategist fights a survivor — nobody gets what they want!

Jenny’s eyes suddenly gleam.

She feints a strike—

Dickie raises his guard…

But instead she grapples him around the neck!

JC: She’s going for the Pink Perfection!

Dickie’s face flashes shock as she latches around his throat,

But mid-rotation Dickie hooks her arm—

Twisting sideways—

Tiger Suplex attempt!

Jenny’s eyes widen—

She stomps backward wildly—

Breaking his grip.

Both spring apart.

Breathing heavier now.

Their eyes lock.

They charge simultaneously—

Jenny throws a Forearm Smash—

Dickie fires an Open-handed Chop—

CRACK!

CRACK!

They both stagger a step.

JC: The match is turning physical now!

JR: Yeah because the chess game didn’t work! Now they’re just straight throwing hands!

Jenny grits her teeth.

Dickie smirks through the sting.

They move again—

Jenny goes low for a Legsweep—

Dickie leaps it—

Jenny spins up into a Chokehold STO attempt—

Dickie flips forward into a Sunset Flip!

Jenny rolls through—

Grabs his head—

Neck Wrench again!

Dickie drops to a knee—

Jenny drags him closer to the edge—

Her eyes flashing with ambition—

Dickie’s face tightens with determination—

He plants his foot—

Fires a Basement Dropkick to her knee!

Jenny stumbles sideways—

Barely stopping herself from colliding with the railing.

Both competitors freeze again.

Breathing hard.

Eyes locked.

“Two minds clash like twin blades upon the whetstone of fate… yet neither yields.”

JR: I swear that guy lives in the walls.

JC: Jenny Myst has thrown just about every trick in the book at Dickie Watson so far… and somehow he’s still standing!

JR: That’s the worst thing you can do to someone like Jenny — make them feel like their plan isn’t working. This has gone from two people trying to wrestle to a playground fight!

Dickie has Jenny in a side headlock, trying to convert into a Full nelson…

When Jenny twists out, and kicks off the wall!

The impact drives Dickie backward! But he clings onto Jenny!

Both skid across the marble floor!

JC: Jenny Myst using the environment itself as a weapon!

Jenny lands on her feet first.

Dickie stumbles back toward the railing—

Jenny’s eyes flash.

Opportunity.

She lunges forward—

Grabbing his head—

JC: Pink Perfection attempt again!

She spins—

Dickie fights the rotation—

Both of them twisting—

But Jenny suddenly changes direction mid-spin!

Instead of the DDT—

She shoves him sideways toward the edge!

Dickie stumbles—

His heel slips on the marble—

His arms pinwheel—

Jenny shoves him again!

Dickie’s eyes widen—

Too late.

His footing disappears.

And suddenly—

Dickie Watson falls over the side of the second floor drop!

JC: OH MY GOD!

JR: SHE DID IT! SHE RINGED HIM OUT! …Er, rang him out? Rung him out? WHATEVER! MYST DID IT!

Jenny stands frozen for half a second.

Then slowly…

She exhales.

Her shoulders relax.

A smug smile creeps across her face.

Jenny dusts her hands together.

Once.

Twice.

Satisfied.

She turns toward the hallway—

JR: That’s the brilliance of Jenny Myst! She doesn’t waste time! She doesn’t play hero! She finds the fastest path to vic-

SUDDENLY, A hand reaches over the edge GRABBING MYST’S ANKLE.

JR: HOLY SHIT!

JC: This one’s not over yet, folks!!

Jenny gasps as her leg gets yanked out from under her—

She crashes onto the marble floor!

Dickie’s exhausted face appears over the ledge—

Hair hanging in his eyes—

But he’s smiling.

Just barely.

Jenny claws at the marble trying to scramble away—

But Dickie pulls again—

Dragging her toward the drop.

Jenny grabs the base of the statue—

But Dickie plants a foot against the wall—

Heaves with everything left in him—

And yanks her clean over the railing.

Jenny’s scream echoes through the Prague Residence—

Then vanishes into the darkness below.

Silence.

Dickie hangs from the railing for a moment longer.

Then he pulls himself back onto the floor.

Collapsed on the marble.

Breathing hard.

“One who falls may yet rise… and in rising, cast down destiny itself.”

JR: THAT GUY DEFINITELY LIVES IN THE WALLS!

Dickie rolls onto his back, staring up at the vaulted ceiling.

He raises one tired fist in the air.

Winner and Advancing in the March Madness Semi-Final: Dickie Watson

JC: Jenny Myst thought she outsmarted Dickie Watson… but in the end, the survivor survived once again!

JR: …What a war! Myst came into this trying to figure out who Dickie Watson is… And I think Dickie Watson just showed her! Dickie Watson is, above all else, a man who survives! And he’s survived his way to the semi-finals of March Madness!

Green lasers scatter across the stage.

Graves steps through the curtain. His head tilts, his jaw clenches, and he just stands there long enough to make the crowd feel uncomfortable.

The drums kick in.

The lights sweep the arena in a blast of lime and purple.

Graves lazily starts down the ramp.

Fans reach out, but he pretends not to notice them.

The cameras catch quick cuts on the XTron of Graves smashing faces, laughing mid-beating, spraying mist, weapons, blood, ugly mayhem.

He reaches the ring. Stops. Looks around. Then he slides in under the ropes, stands up slow just as the song hits—

[b]♪ IT'S YOUR FUCKIN' NIGHTMARE ♪

Graves backs into his corner, sliding his cape off his shoulders tossing it aside.

He cracks his neck once and stares across the ring as the music fades.

The arena 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.

The first, frenetic strums of Faith No More's "Gentle Art of Making Enemies" rips through the arena as strobes of gold and white cast across the stage and crowd. After several moments, and then a few more for good measure, Kieran King eventually saunters onto the stage, smugly mugging for the audience. In a flash, he sprints towards the ring and glides underneath the bottom rope - practically hovering off the mat. Keeping his momentum going, King darts towards the corner post and leaps towards the top. He crouches, and throws his arms up and back as if to backflip off the top... only to pull out at the last minute. He laughs at the crowd, mocking them as he settles in to some pre-fight stretches.

All three men glare at one another and a hush falls over the arena.

JR: Woooh! I’ve got chills! Pay-per-view feel here and you people at home are getting it for free on TV or X! The everything app. The Trillionaires are good to us, right Jacuinde?

JC: Correct me if I’m wrong, but this may be the first time in history that the Universal, Xtreme and Anarchy Champions have been in the same ring for the same fight, with two out of the three titles on the line. The crown on the line, Kieran King’s historic back-to-back-to-back March Madness run on the line!

JR: Mark my words, this is going to be a moment to remember. And win, lose or draw be damned these three men are a testament of how fucking good the XWF is. Three men with something to prove, three different ideologies clashing, three different styles but all have the same goal. Win that crown!

In an instant the ring lifts into the air, leaving behind the ropes and the crowd as they ascend through the stadium and into the night sky meeting the scaffolding of Village of the Wind.

[/b]

[b] The wind kills the flame, but the soul still burns!

DING! DING! DING!

Before the bell rings Samael Dyson is on his way to Kieran and is immediately followed by Graves; King gets on the defense and his head turns to the quicker Dyson who lunges at King but Kieran manages to get a swift kick into Dyson’s jaw with an awful snap. Graves catches Kieran’s temple with a rough right hook which causes King to stumble.

Graves grabs King by the collar and reels back for a headbutt but Kieran deftly drives a thumb into Gravy’s eye and is about to let out a kick but gets stopped as Samael latches his teeth around King’s calf!

King lets out a hiss of pain “You little prick!” and raises his hand to swat Dyson away but Gravy grabs his wrist with his left and gut checks King with his right!

Kieran doubles over as Gravy strikes again with an open palm to the face followed up with a heart punch!

King wobbles and drops to a knee, as Gravy looks down at him still holding his wrist high into the air and Samael gets to his feet before throwing kick after kick into King’s sternum!

JR: Both men know their role to a tee here, shame they’re gonna try and kill each other because they make a good team.

JC: Once you fight against someone, the next fight with them goes a lot differently, after nearly dying I can see a very temporary bond between Graves and Dyson.

Dyson orders Gravy to pick Kieran up.

Orders being the key word as Graves stares a hole through Samael as he takes a few steps back.

Gravy gets Kieran in a full nelson as Samael runs forward.

JR: I’m getting deja vu! Samael pulled the same stunt in his last match!

Dyson reaches the pair and a sadistic grin crosses his face as he unleashes a hellish kick to Kieran’s groin!

But Samael is the one that falls down! Clutching his shin as he screams in agony!

JC: Gravy pulled King up just in time! And Samael connected to whatever ungodly monstrosity Graves is packing down there.

Graves wraps his meaty arms around King’s neck and tightens the hold, trying to choke the life out of him!

King struggles for a moment but has the foresight to kick down on Gravy’s foot, loosening the hold briefly and Kieran takes advantage by throwing his head back into Grave’s mask!

Micheal reels back clutching his face as King gets a breath of air and launches into a Pele Kick which connects masterfully!

Graves clatters onto the ground as King pushes himself up with a groan and is immediately bowled over by Dyson who tackles him down to the ground and locks in a sloppy schoolboy pin, grabbing a handful of tights as he does. The disembodied voice of the referee makes the count.

ONE!

….

TWO!!

….

KICKOUT!

Just after the two.

King clutches at his ribs briefly as Dyson drivers on top of him and begins throwing down sloppy strikes over Kieran who blocks the majority before planting a boot in Dyson’s stomach and flipping him head over heel; as Kieran pushes wind chimes sound off around the stage and a huge gust of wind barrels through the arena and as Kieran hurls Dyson the wind picks up and carries him across the stage sending him hurdling towards the edge!

Dyson crashes onto the ground as a mere inch away from falling off the stage entirely!

King and Graves’ bodies tumble over as the wind batters them but they manage to regain their footing.

JR: Goddamn! That wind doesn't mess around!

Graves steps up, as does Kieran and the two lock eyes.

Dyson gingerly gets to his feet two, looking out over the drop to the earth with a laugh before turning back to the others with a smile at Kieran.

JR: Jesus, this is basically a handicap match! Both Dyson and Graves have been relentless on King.

JC: And you're surprised? Kieran is the Universal Champion, two-time King of the XWF. He’s public enemy number one. But he’s also had the most experience as Universal Champion in multi-man matches which is why he’s still standing.

Kieran backs away from Graves slowly, his chest heaving as he cradles his ribs and assesses the situation. Dyson… Dyson doesn’t move instead he kneels down far away from the edge and looks at the two, Graves curls his fists and looks between both of them.

JC: Looks like a Mexican standoff!

JR: All three men want the other to make their move right now, Kieran doesn’t want to get involved in another double team and Graves and Dyson are too bloodthirsty to wait it out.

After a minute, the crowd… Villagers? Begin banging on the scaffolding and amping up the competitors until it builds into a rise, the wind shaking the structures.

And Graves launches into action!

Sprinting in and looking low to tackle King’s legs from under him but Kieran telegraphs the move and leaps over Graves BUT The Dark Warrior saw it coming and lunges upward getting King over his shoulders looking for-

JC: GRAVE DIGGER!!!

But Kieran flips out of the Death Valley Driver and lands on his feet before launching a roundhouse into Graves' jaw!

Dyson rushes into the fray and catches Kieran with a right hook and follows up with a sloppy left.

Kieran blocks another right, batting away Dyson’s hand and chopping him across the chest leaving a bright red mark.

Graves comes from behind and clatters King’s dome with a haymaker to the back of the skull and Kieran is knocked onto the ground; Dyson goes to stomp on Kieran but Graves stops him, wrapping a large hand around Samael’s throat and hoists him up into the air before driving him back down to earth with an almighty chokeslam!

JR: Why would Graves attack Dyson now!? They could have worked to get King out!

JC: Graves is a maniac, Joe! He wants the fight, not just the win.

Graves deadlifts Dyson up over his shoulders but as he does King is back to his feet and bowls both men over with a shotgun dropkick to Graves chest!

Graves rolls through and launches up from his feet but Kieran sees it coming!

JR: F UR HEAD!

King’s Codebreaker hits out of nowhere and Gravy is DOWN!

The crowd grow ecstatic in a mix of cheers and boos.

King lunges forward for a quick pin but Dyson is there to intercept; tackling King and mounting him; scratching at King’s face and throwing down with heavy rights before he sticks his fingers down his throat and begins to gag while leaning over King!

Kieran’s eyes grow wide and he shoots a knee into Dyson’s groin before reversing the mount and beating down on Samael, his hands linked into an axe handle driving into Samael’s face over and over!

Dyson goes limp for a moment and Kieran steps up to his feet, his legs buckling from underneath him.

Suddenly, as King is about to make a cover. The sound of static plays.

The X-Tron installed in the Village of the Wind (on the Trillionaires dime, of course) flashes to life.

The camera quickly darts around the village from building to building until a door bursts open and a body comes flying out, smacking into the camera in the process.

It pans down.

One of King Kieran's Kingsguard lays unconscious on the ground.

Panning back to the open door to one of the village houses, bodies of other Kingsguard members lay strewn about the room.

A shadowy figure moves amongst them.

Reaching down, the figure grabs a body and begins to drag it towards the door. The camera only catches the assailant front the shoulders down, where a flannel shirt hangs low and loose atop ripped blue denim jeans.

The body he is dragging is much easier to identify.

It’s the Captain of the Kingsguard, Tommy Gunn. And he's not quite as unconscious as his companion.

“Let me go, shitstain!” Tommy bellows.

Oddly, his attacker obliges. But there is no time for Gunn to escape. The shadowed man simply trades pulling Tommy by the leg for holding him by the jaw.

He hoists Gunn from the ground with nothing but a hand shoved down the captain’s throat.

And then he holds him high.

A gust of wind blows by.

And the attacker lets go.

Tommy Gunn is blown away by the Village of the Wind to parts unknown.

The camera pans to the man responsible.

[/b]
[Image: uFAZDB9.jpg]

ALIAS.

Cutting back to Kieran King, he stands, alone, hurling expletives at the screen and the man on it, as Samael whistles from behind Kieran.

King turns around, almost annoyed he’s been interrupted.

And sees Dyson wielding a flaming gauntlet, the insignificants behind him giddy in anticipation.

JR: FLAMING THUMPER HEART PUNCH!!!!! [white]

Samael drives the gauntlet into King’s sternum and all the wind leaves his body.

But King doesn’t go down, only to a knee!

His eyes bulging out his skull as his chest burns.

The wind picks up again, killing the flames of the gauntlet and bowling the insignificants away like litter in the breeze and toppling the human ladder they made to get to the Village of the Wind.

Dyson’s eyes widen as King shakily steps to his feet, hurling gasped insults at Samael, frothing spit coming from his mouth.

And as Kieran tries to get the strength to reach him.

…

[white]JC: GRAVE CONSEQUENCES!!!

Micheal Graves from behind lifts King into the crucifix powerbomb and sends him hurdling towards the edge of the stage.

For a brief moment it looks like King is about to go off the stage.

And as the wind hits again.

That moment looks more and more likely.

As King sails through the air.

His side bouncing on the rim of the stage.

His hand grabs the edge!

But his body falls down to the earth below.

…

KIERAN KING HAS BEEN ELIMINATED

…

JC: Holy shit.

JR: Holy SHIT!

[b]HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

The crowd… er, villagers? Of the Village of the Wind are absolutely beside themselves right now! They are erupting

JC: …Wow! Sorry, folks, I had to gather myself there, but… for the first time in three years of March Madness… King Kieran is ELIMINATED!

JR: It’s unthinkable, Jacuinde! And that means someone is leaving this match with the Universal title! We have a NEW CHAMPION going into March Madness!

…Samael Dyson looks over the side… like he’s ready for Kieran to pop back up like a monster in a horror movie… Graves remains stationary, chest heaving…

But… no… the unimaginable has become reality…

King Kieran is out…

…

And immediately, Dyson and Graves bum rush each other! It’s an ugly all-out scrapfest! There’s no poetry, no rhythm! Just wild strikes!

JC: Oh my God! I think it dawned on this two men… who just pulled off something impossible together… that the only thing standing between them and the biggest prize in all of wrestling is each other!

Graves grabs Samael by the throat, looking to chokeslam him to the floor…

…But Samael, like a mangy trash predator coils his body in Gravy’s hands and jams his thumb into the Dark Warrior’s mask eyes!

Gravy drops Samael… Samael boots Gravy to the stomach! He tries to drop the Dark Warrior with a DDT straight to the dirt ground of the VIllage!

… But Gravy puts on the brakes!

And heaves him up and over!

BACK BODY DROP!

JC: Oh man! Samael might be in trouble! Gravy ain’t anyone’s traditional grappler archetype but he is… well, a wrestler! Samael has admitted over and over that he’s green in this game!

JR: But he has something no one else has in this industry, Jacuinde! The will! The absolutely unmatched desire to FUCK THIS COMPANY AND ITS ROSTER! And there’s no more true way to FUCK the XWF than winning the Universal title!

Graves stands over Samael’s twisted body and wraps his hands around Dyson’s throat, looking to choke the life out of Dyson…

But Dyson again desperately thrashes and twists like a possum trying to knock over a garbage can, and managed to shake Gravy’s grip long enough…

TO THRUST HIS SKULL FORWARD! Headbutt!

Samael’s head CRASHES against Gravy! Gravy collapses backward, the mask getting driven into his own skull… Samael covers his own skull, clearly not much better.

JC: Both men took the worst of that headbutt!

Gravy squeezes his skull, falling to one knee…

Samael rolls off the ground and with no art or technique whatsoever… DIVES ONTOP OF GRAVY!

JC: That was the ugliest Lou Thesz Press I’ve ever seen!

JR: I think if you asked Dyson what a Lou Thesz Press was, he’d think it was in the same appliance family as the George Foreman Grill! He’s not here to perform wrestling moves, he’s here to win! And possibly kill Micheal Graves for not making winning easy enough!

Dyson throws desperate wild swings from a mounted position, looking to smack Graves unconscious with his fists…

But Graves manages to grip Dyson by the scruff of the neck and roll side-to-side! Suddenly, Graves is over him!

JC: Oh man… you do NOT want to be close-quarters with Gravy’s fists!

JR: Two things Gravy is known for in the XWF! Hard strikes! And wet pockets!

Dyson’s eyes widen… he springs forward to try and claw Gravy’s ey-

WHAM! Gravy catches Dyson on the way up with a right-handed SMACK to the side of Dyson’s skull!

JC: Dyson’s demeaned a lot of women in the XWF! I don’t know how many of them have wanted to smack Samael Dyson, but that smack was worth a lifetime of slaps in one go!

Dyson collapses backwards like a boxer who just took a knockout blow! Graves collapses ontop of him!

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEE-NOOOOOOO! DYSON’S SHOULDER SHOOTS OFF THE GROUND!

JC: …Wow! I can’t believe Samael Dyson kicked out of that one!

JR: He’s hungry, Jacuinde! He wants this! He wants this more than a fat kid wants acceptance AND cake! Combined!

Graves shoves himself off the ground as Dyson rapidly shakes his head, trying to will himself back to consciousness…

Graves grabs Dyson by the skull and pulls him off the ground! Dyson’s legs start desperately clawing and shuffling to get free… but Gravy’s got him locked up!

JC: Oh my! This looks like no-man’s land for Samael Dyson!

Graves has his hands squeezing the side of Dyson’s head… He moves to jam both his thumbs into Samael’s eyes!

JC: Holy shit! I think… I think Graves is trying to literally gouge Dyson’s eyes out!

JR: Bold strategy, Jacuinde! He can’t fight if he’s legally blind!

Dyson starts to gag and sputter as Graves tries to dig his thumbs into Dys-

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?! Dyson literally empties his stomach straight into Graves’ face!

JC: Oh jesus christ, what the hell!

JR: A BOQUET OF ROSES is what he calls that! Samael’s gag reflex is the best in the business in terms of offensive firepower!

Graves, having taken a face full of stomach acid, wipes away at his mask as Samael collapses to one knee…

…But in one desperate surge, Samael drives his fist forward!

STRAIGHT INTO GRAVES’ HEART!

HEART PUNCH!

…

Connects!

JC: OH SHIT! Dyson hit it! He hit Matthew X’s Heart Punch!

JR: Even with the lawsuit for trademark infringement from Daddy Matty pending! That’s gutsy!

Graves covers his chest… and collapses backward… his body seemingly seizing! His chest palpitating!

Dyson collapses forward, looking spent…

…But he manages to crawl… arm over arm… slowly on top of Graves…

JC: This could be it! New Universal champion… Samael Dyson!

JR: It would be unprecedented, Jacuinde! But unprecedented would be how you describe every part of what Samael Dyson does!

He eventually collapses down onto Gravy!

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

SOMEHOW! SOME WAY! MICHEAL GRAVES FORCES HIS SHOULDER UP!

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

Graves and Dyson lie on the ground… Graves literally convulsing… possibly actually having some heart-related convulsions… Dyson is cradling his head… like he knows how close he is… but how does he get across the line?!?

…Finally Dyson finds the grit to force his way exhaustedly up to his feet… Just as Graves’ spasming body manages to do the same…

Dyson reels his fist back as Graves stumbles forward…

He’s going for another…

HEART PUN-

GRAVES EMITS PURE GREEN MIST FROM HIS MOUTH!

STRAIGHT INTO DYSON’S EYES!

JC: And now, BOTH men have spewed something from their stomachs into the other’s eyes! Even steven!

Dyson covers his face, whatever Graves’ mist is made of fucking BURNS!

Graves, running on fumes… BOOTS the screaming Dyson in the stomach…

Powers him up over his head…

…

GRAVES CONSEQUENCES!

….

CONNECTS!

JC: Oh my God! That’s gotta do it!

Dyson is HUCKED AT THE GROUND! He lands with a sickening thud!

With the last of his strength, Graves collapses ontop of Samael…

ONE!

TWO!

THREE-NO!!!

Dyson gets a shoulder up!

JR: DYSON GOT A SHOULDER UP! WHAT THE FUUUUUCK!!?

JC: Graves can't believe it! I can't believe it! The universe can't believe it!

Graves pushes himself up, his arms buckling under his own weight as Dyson crawls away, closer to the edge.

After what feels like an age, both men look to one another; Samael is wobbly on his feet about to keel over at any moment as Graves sucks in ragged breaths on one knee.

And as Dyson makes one last dash of an attack.

A bloody roar coming from his mouth.

Graves steps up!

. . .

And falls back to a knee!

As Dyson gets to him!

Graves huffs a cloud of green mist from his mouth!

He blinds Dyson!

And with the last of his strength he hurls his body into Samael!

BOTH MEN CRASH DOWN!

THEY GET CLOSER AND CLOSER TO THE EDGE AS THEIR BODIES ROLL LIKE A CAR WRECK!

Dyson's body bounces up!

And Graves' digs his hands into the stage as Dyson claws wildly.

But...

Ultimately

Dyson is tackled off the stage off unable to grasp the edge!

WINNER AND NEEEEEEEEEEEEEW UNIVERSAL CHAMPION: MICHEAL GRAVES!

JR: HOLY SHIT!

JC: HOLY SHIT! HE DID IT!

Graves doesn't stand up, instead he rolls onto his back sucks in air.

[white]JC: Micheal Graves has just become Universal Champion! I can't speak!

JR: What a night from all three men! I'm beside myself right now!

JC: The King is out of the tournament, the Xtreme Champion is out of the tournament! And an undefeated Micheal Graves holds both the Universal and Anarchy titles! What does this mean for March Madness what does this mean for the XWF Universe!?[/white[

We slowly fade to black as Graves' music plays us out.

[/b]

]]>

March - 9 - 2026

LIVE FROM COCA-COLA ARENA

DUBAI, UNITED ARAB EMIRATES

(Home of the World’s Largest Ferris Wheel)

Solomon Kline
- vs -
John Black
Singles

Korvayne
- vs -
Deena Hixx
Singles

Yelena Gorgo
- vs -
Game Girl
First Blood

Sebastian Everett-Bryce
- vs -
The Director
THE DIRECTOR’S CUT

The match takes place on a soundstage, in front of a live studio audience! AND BARBED-WIRE IS EVERYWHERE!

Centurion ©
- vs -
Betsy Granger
15 Minute Time Limit

Money Pit

ROUND TWO
Asher Hayes
- vs -
John Blade
One Fall
Victory can be obtained by Pinfall, Submission, KO, or Ring-Out!

Pirate Raid

ROUND TWO
Scoops McGee
- vs -
Matthias Syn
One Fall
Victory can be obtained by Pinfall, Submission, KO, or Ring-Out!

Stage Hazard - WIND AND STORMY WATERS

House of Valentine: Prague Residence

ROUND TWO
Dickie Watson
- vs -
Jenny Myst
One Fall
Victory can be obtained by Pinfall, Submission, KO, or Ring-Out!

DING! DING! DING!

CRACK!

SUPLEX!

Right!

Left!

Right!

SNAP DDT!

JB rolls him over.

ONE!

KICKOUT!

Kline powers out before two.

JB grabs him again, but Kline launches a brutal forearm into JB’s jaw!

CRACK!

JB stumbles!

Kline pushes forward, firing off another!

Then a step back, and—

SUPERKICK!

JB’s head snaps backward! He's out on his feet!

Kline hooks him and the crowd pops early!

GERMAN SUPLEX!

JB crashes into the mat on his neck!

But Kline doesn’t release his grip.

He positions over JB and climbs to his feet.

DEADLIFT GERMAN SUPLEX!

BRAINBUSTA!

But, no! Kline blocks the attempt and lifts JB instead!

BLUE THUNDER BOMB!

FLYING LARIAT!

But Kline scoops him right out of the air as the realization instantly hits JB in the face like a brick.

JR: Uh oh…

Kline drops JB across his knee!

BACKBREAKER!

FACEPLANT!

The crowd erupts!

JC: OH! KLINE WASN'T EXPECTING THAT!

JR: EVERY SINGLE TRICK!

JB scrambles and beats Kline to his feet.

JB fires a right hand and a kneeling Kline!

CRACK!

Another!

CRACK!

Another!

CRACK!

The punches are sloppy, but every one of them lands.

Kline wobbles on his knees as JB closes in!

DROPKICK!

CRIPPLER CROSSFACE!!!

Winner: John Black

Korvayne
- vs -
Deena Hixx
Singles

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Winner: Koryvane

[white]]JR: Korvayne wins and she looked good doing it, Jacuinde! Deena put up a hell of a fight, but Korvayne was just too much!

JC: A strong debut for the provocative and controversial new star!

*CRACK*

*BONK*

Big Adventure

BIG HEAD MODE

Winner by First Blood - Game Girl!

Sebastian Everett-Bryce
- vs -
The Director
THE DIRECTOR’S CUT

The match takes place on a soundstage, in front of a live studio audience! AND BARBED-WIRE IS EVERYWHERE!

Winner: Sebastian Everett-Bryceweventr]

[weventr]

Centurion ©
- vs -
Betsy Granger
15 Minute Time Limit

HIGHLIGHT REEL

DING! DING! DING!

15:00

14:59

14:58

10:47

10:46

10:45

8:31

8:30

8:29

4:45

4:44

4:43

1:42

1:41

1:40

1:09

1:08

1:07

0:46
0:45

0:44

0:29

0:28

0:27

0:21

0:20

0:19

AND SHE TAPS OUT!

Winner and STILL Television Champion: Centurion!

Winner and Advancing to the March Madness Semifinal: Asher Hayes

[/b]

[yputube]N2fwUbvDI_s[/youtube]

Pirate Raid

ROUND TWO
Scoops McGee
- vs -
Matthias Syn
One Fall
Victory can be obtained by Pinfall, Submission, KO, or Ring-Out!

Stage Hazard - WIND AND STORMY WATERS

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Winner by Ring Out and Advancing in the March Madness Semi-Final - Scoops McGee

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my [b]DEATHLIST."[/b]

House of Valentine: Prague Residence

ROUND TWO
Dickie Watson
- vs -
Jenny Myst
One Fall
Victory can be obtained by Pinfall, Submission, KO, or Ring-Out!

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Winner and Advancing in the March Madness Semi-Final: Dickie Watson

[/b]

KIERAN KING HAS BEEN ELIMINATED

WINNER AND NEEEEEEEEEEEEEW UNIVERSAL CHAMPION: MICHEAL GRAVES!

]]> <![CDATA[SAVAGE 2/24/26]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49835 Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:25:29 -0800 'Big' Dick Lichter]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49835

February - 24 - 2026

LIVE FROM SCOTIABANK SADDLEDOME

CALGARY, ALBERTA, CANADA

(near Fort Assiniboine - Home of the World’s Largest Wagon Wheel)

Ice Coffin of the Sleeping Ancient

ROUND ONE
El Landerson
- vs -
Asher Hayes
- vs -
Latoya Hixx
Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO

Stage Hazard - ICE!

Eurydice Shrine - Gate of the Gods

ROUND ONE
Game Girl
- vs -
Deena Hixx
- vs -
‘Her XCellency’ Jenny Myst
Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO

Lakeside Coliseum

ROUND ONE
Dickie Watson
- vs -
Apathy
- vs -
Betsy Granger
Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO

Stage Hazard - WATER!

City of Water

ROUND ONE
Kieran King ©
- vs -
Solomon Kline
- vs -
Centurion
Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO

Stage Hazard - WATER!

We open Savage in the talent carpark at the Scotiabank Saddledome, with marching feet. The camera pans from an XWF logo on the side of a truck to the armed forces of the Kingsguard. And by ‘armed forces’, we’re talking fully armed.

Each member of the Kingsguard seems to have added a semi-automatic assault rifle to their standard armour and blunt weaponry—pulling out no stops to protect their valued leader.

Tommy Gunn directs the army into formation, creating a funnel for none other than Kieran King…

Star of the Year 2025.
2x King of the XWF.
3x Universal Champion.
Oh… and the president of the XWF Union.

A scuffle breaks out at the entrance to the rest of the building and Tommy Gunn charges forward with his rifle drawn.

Kieran King: Stand down!

Kieran stormed forward and intercepted his Kingsguard Captain. The Kingsguard all stepped back but kept their trigger fingers ready. Kieran backed them all away from their target—the ever-affable Steve Sayors.

Sayors straightened his tie and stammered.

Steve Sayors: Th-thank you, Your Grace.

Kieran clasped Sayors's shoulder.

Kieran King: Anyone ever tell you that you've got balls of steel, Steve? I see you went for the classic middle-aged white man look today too.

Steve Sayors: Yes, well, err… I don't really like to talk about how all those changes happen…

Kieran King: Understandably so. I take it that you've waiting for me?

Sayors's eyes lit up.

Steve Sayors: Yes! I wanted to catch you at Warfare two weeks ago, but—

Kieran King: But I didn't show up.

Sayors nodded.

Kieran King: And then I didn't show up at Anarchy. Or at Warfare last night.

Steve Sayors: The office was expecting some sort of grandiose celebration! But instead all we saw was you visiting with the Trillionaires.

Kieran King: Sounds like the true office knew exactly where I was then.

Steve Sayors: I mean… I guess…?

Kieran King: Did you know, that after winning this title back at Relentless, I competed in more matches in my first two months as champion than any other Universal Champion in years? And yet, still people thought I was doing things the easy way. So you know what they say… if you can't beat ‘em…

Steve Sayors: JOIN ‘EM!

Sayors was very eager to show that he knew the idiom.

Kieran smiled, bemused.

Kieran King: I was putting in that effort to make a statement. This time? There is no bigger statement to be made than doing what I do better than anyone else… winning tournaments. Nobody has ever won March Madness back-to-back, except me. Nobody WILL ever go back-to-back-to-back. Except me.

Steve Sayors: That's going to be tough with the Trillionaires seemingly having it out for you. Just what did you guys discuss? I heard it was something about a new collective bargaining agreement?

Kieran King: Something like that.

Steve Sayors: C'mon! You've got to give us something!

Kieran King: Fine, I'll tell you this—people who have been as successful in their respective fields as Elon, Jeff, and Mark tend to have a lot in common with other people who have been extremely successful in their own fields.

Steve Sayors: Do you mean yourself? Were you guys forming an alliance?

Kieran King: Those are your words, not mine. We certainly agreed that the XWF needed a tad more security after what happened at Snow Pain Snow Gain.

Steve Sayors: …After ALIAS? Are you worried he's going to show up again tonight?

King chuckled.

Kieran King: Don't get distracted by the fire and the moody ambience. He's just a man. He bleeds like anyone else. I've seen it more than you even know. But the thing about the human body, is its very, VERY vulnerable to bullets.

Kieran thumbed at the weapon in Tommy Gunn’s hands.

Kieran King: The ALIAS problem has been addressed. Now all that there is left to do is strap yourself in for the ride… because you're about to see history get made.

Kieran clapped Steve’s arm and went inside, accompanied by his rifle-wielding Kingsguard.

Before following, Tommy Gunn looked Stebe Sayors up and down and reminded him…

Tommy Gunn: Long live the king.

And the camera faded out.

When the Storm is Coming hits, a familiar laugh fills the air. Latoya Hixx revealed herself behind a frozen sheet of ice, stalking her way out from behind and towards the open air as the cameras tracked her moves. She flexes and spreads her arms as she moves, shouting ‘Let’s go!’ into a nearby camera lens as she waits for the action to come.

JR: You gotta commend Latoya Hixx, if nothing else. It takes a real crazy woman to be willing to step onto a literal ice bed and not even flinch at what she’s having to do.

JC: I’m sure Latoya Hixx wants more than just some commendations though, Joe. That said, she’s got the perfect opportunity to do that tonight with her raw strength!

The opening riff to "Song for the Dead" by Queens of the Stone Age kicks in. At the 37 second mark, the name "Asher Hayes" blares through the PA system, and Asher appears between rows of icicles, wearing a long leather jacket, his face full of focus. He bows down for a few moments before standing up straight, throwing both fists in the air, before making his way towards the ring.

“It's late enough to go driving
And see what's mine
Life's the study of dying
How to do it right"

He makes his way down past the icicles, staring off to see no fans having made their way out into the frigid cold tonight. He slings the jacket off his shoulders, his face scrunching as he glares towards Latoya.

JC: Folks, you wanna talk about an explosive debut here, this could have everything you’d want. Asher Hayes, decorated veteran of the squared circle, his career spanning over twenty years and he’s on the grandest stage right now!

JR: Whole new ball game here in the XWF. But you look at his face, he’s ready. He’s hungry. He could make an impact from day 1 depending on how he does in this tournament, Jack, and I think he knows that fact.

“You're a holy roller
If you bettin' to lose
If you're hanging around
I'm holding the noose"

His expression remains focused as he looks toward the auroras hanging in the sky, before circling around, removing his jacket and handing his belongings to the ref.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah
Ah, ah, ah, ah
Ah, ah, ah, ah
Ah, ah, ah, ah
Come a little bit closer
And get untied
In a hearse rolling over
Just a track in the line
Fuck it..."

Asher then calmly stretches out, waiting for the match to begin.

When Booyaka 619 hits, El Landerson walks behind a giant icicle that distorts his figure for a brief moment, turning him into that of a giant before he walks right past it. As the camera focuses on him, he takes a moment to drop to a knee and pray.

JC: El Landerson’s been looking for a chance for a while now to truly have a breakout moment, but you can’t deny how much heart this man has.

JR: Lot of heart, but he’s gonna need to put it to good use. He’s got his work cut out for him here tonight, but he’s eager to take the challenge on.

Landerson gets back up to his feet, making his way towards his opponents as he poses in front of the cameras with his fingers in the air. As he closes the distance towards both Hayes and Hixx, he smiles, bouncing light on his feet and waiting for the match to begin.

“Amidst the arctic wastelands, these fighters must learn what it takes to survive… or let their names be frozen within time.”

The match quickly begins as an uneasy silence hangs over the field of ice. Asher looks between both Latoya and Landerson, trying to remain light on his feet as he does so.

JC: I’ve never seen a match like this take place in the Arctic like this, Joe. It’s a miracle these three aren’t freezing where they stand right about now.

JR: They better hope they finish this match quickly, or that just might come true!

El Landerson quickly takes the lead as he runs straight for Asher Hayes! Hayes sees him coming and raises a big boot to try and take the little man out soon, but Landerson is quick on his feet! He slides right underneath the boot and goes past Hayes…

But the slippery ice continues to carry him forward as he struggles to get back to his feet!

JC: We’ve only just begun, and already the stage hazard here is impacting the flow of the match!

JR: These guys are gonna go flying at just the slightest touch…

As Landerson continues to slide on the ice, he ends up coming straight towards Latoya Hixx who picks up Landerson like a ragdoll off the ice! She hoists him up high - RELEASE BELLY-TO-BELLY SUPLEX!

BUT LANDERSON FLIPS IN MID-AIR! HE LANDS ON HIS FEET BEFORE FALLING TO ALL FOURS FROM THE SLIPPERY ICE!

Hixx sees Landerson escaping danger as she quickly gets back to her feet, but Asher Hayes is right behind her! He quickly grabs her arm and yanks it tight into a hammerlock! Hixx grimaces as she tries to throw an elbow behind her, but Hayes cuts her off with a loud SLAP to the head!

Hayes has Hixx in position as he wraps his free arm around her neck! He shoots himself back - REVERSE DDT RIGHT ON THE ICE!

JC: Hayes wasting zero time controlling the match right now, Joe! He’s looking to break into here with a full head of steam behind him!

JR: Any impact you take on a hard surface like ice is going to hurt a thousand times worse than just taking it inside the ring. And just think, if your skin starts to stick to the ice as well…

JC: I’d rather not think about that, thanks.

As Hayes sits on the ice, Landerson quickly comes back in, running towards Hayes and nailing him with a basement dropkick! Hayes eats the shot as he quickly rolls back to his feet, but Landerson is right in front of him!

Gut kick by Landerson- CAUGHT! Hayes goes for a sharp elbow in retaliation- DUCKED BY LANDERSON NOW!

Landerson quickly uses his speed to hop into a hurricanrana! He brings himself back-

OH! BUT HAYES IS REFUSING TO GO DOWN EVEN ON UNSTABLE FOOTING! He shakes his head no as he wrenches Landerson back up on high in powerbomb position! But he throws him off towards a standing position again-

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

JC: Holy- did you hear that knee strike to El Landerson’s skull?! You could have told me that was the damn ice breaking apart, and I’d believe you!

JR: Hayes has some remarkable core strength to be able to hold himself steady on that hurricanrana attempt there. Makes me wonder what his workout routine is like…

El Landerson slumps back while prone as Hayes seizes his chance to go for the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

LATOYA HIXX BREAKS UP THE PIN!

Hayes is angrily forced onto his feet as he throws a right hand, but Latoya is just a split second quicker against the veteran! A release German Suplex sends Hayes flying across the ice, leaving Latoya against Landerson as she proceeds to put the boots to the Bit Luchador!

JC: Latoya picking her spot right now like a vulture. Landerson’s got a lot to recover from right now, and she’s not making it easy on him!

JR: Not exactly kosher depending on who you talk to, but I like it. Gotta keep your odds alive in March Madness however you can!

Landerson comes back alive though, moving himself in a circle as he sweeps Latoya’s legs out from underneath her! Her body gives a sickening crack off the ice as she winces, allowing Landerson to get back up onto his feet!

He quickly pivots around, allowing him to flip and hit Latoya with a standing Moonsault! He tries his luck by hooking the leg!

ONE!

HIXX KICKS OUT BY THROWING LANDERSON OFF OF HER AND HALFWAY ACROSS THE ICE!

JC: Landerson just got thrown around like a damn lawn dart!

JR: I think most people can agree that Latoya is many… many things. But she’s got a helluva lot of strength to her name especially!

Hixx circles around towards Landerson, stalking him like prey, but she’s pulled around by Asher Hayes!

Hixx throws a right hand, but this time it’s Hayes who’s the faster of the two with a right hand of his own! The impact rocks Hixx back as he follows up with a knife-edge chop! Hixx staggers backwards as Hayes looks to pursue!

But El Landerson comes up from behind Hayes with a dropkick to the back! Hayes winces, needing a minute to catch his breath!

JR: Look at that, Jack. You think that German Latoya gave him earlier did a number on his back?

JC: It’d sure seem like it, Joe. It doesn’t help either that Hayes frequently deals with lingering issues from a terrible back injury suffered all the way back in 2009.

Hayes rights himself, only to see another right hand coming from Latoya Hixx! He sidesteps out of the way of the blow, watching as it rocks Landerson right across the face!

Hayes sees this as his opening now! He throws a knife-edge chop to Latoya that lights up her chest! A kick to the gut doubles the dazed Landerson over!

Latoya tugs Hayes over to face her, but Hayes is once again quicker as he pokes her with a thumb right to the eye! Hixx staggers back, trying to blink out the pain! Hayes quickly follows up with a knife-edge chop to Landerson, enough to send him spinning!

Hayes sees both Hixx and Landerson aren’t looking at him, and a devious idea comes to mind. He flashes a shit-eating grin towards the camera, before feigning a loud grunt as he falls on his side right onto the ice!

JC: What the- what is Asher Hayes doing?!

Latoya and Landerson both recover and notice the downed Hayes! They go to move in for a cover, before noticing the other nearby as they stare daggers at each other!

JR: He’s performing a brilliant strategy, that’s what!

The fighting starts right back up as Latoya shoves Landerson across like the damn freak of nature she is!

Landerson rolls back onto his feet as he quickly darts in and goes for a kick to Latoya’s gut - CAUGHT BY LATOYA - ENZUIGIRI BY LANDERSON!

That one brought Latoya to a knee finally as she has to rub her jaw that got absolutely rocked by Landerson! Landerson picks himself up, rights himself on the ice, as he darts in to follow up with an explosive bulldog!

But he’s not done! He picks himself right back up onto his feet, only to jump again into a leg drop!

Landerson gets right back up onto his feet one more time! He skates across the ice backwards, trying to hold himself steady… BEFORE HE RUSHES FORWARDS!

HE LEAPS!

RUNNING LANDERSON FROG SPLASH!

ROLLED OUT OF THE WAY BY LATOYA!

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

JC: Oh, that impact was sickening! El Landerson just threw himself right into the ice!

JR: Check it out, Jack! The ice just cracked from that fall!

El Landerson is sporting one hell of a busted nose as he pulls himself right back onto his feet- BUT LATOYA SPRINTS AT FULL SPEED TO KNOCK HIS HEAD OFF WITH A BICYCLE KICK!

LATOYA REVELS AT STANDING ON TOP!

BUT SHE TURNS AROUND INTO A RUNNING HIGH KNEE FROM ASHER HAYES!

JC: LATOYA HIXX JUST LEARNED WHAT IT’S LIKE TO GO FROM DUST TO DUST!

LATOYA HIXX STAGGERS ON HER FEET, BEFORE SHE SLOWLY TIMBERS BACKWARDS… RIGHT INTO THE CRACKED ICE!

AND IT BREAKS UNDERNEATH HER WEIGHT!

RING OUT!

LATOYA HIXX - RINGED OUT!

JR: We got medics coming out right now to drag Hixx from the waters!

As the paramedics swarm the scene, there’s still a match going on! Hayes sees the downed Landerson and quickly locks him into a modified Sharpshooter!

JC: And Asher Hayes is proving himself to be quite the Dream Killer right now!

LANDERSON IS STRUGGLING IN THE SUBMISSION HOLD! HE’S GOT A LOT OF HEART, BUT THERE’S NO ROPE BREAKS TO GIVE HIM ANY SORT OF SALVATION!

HAYES IS WRENCHING THE HOLD IN AS TIGHT AS HE CAN! HE’S SCREAMING FOR LANDERSON TO GIVE UP!

LANDERSON FEEBLY REACHES TOWARDS THE OPEN ICE PIT FOR LEVERAGE… BUT HE CAN’T MAKE IT THERE!

LANDERSON TAPS OUT!

WINNER: ASHER HAYES!

JC: EXPLOSIVE first win for Asher Hayes here! He may have gotten a fair few lumps along the way, but no one can deny that he came out and got what he wanted here tonight!

JR: And by any means too, Jack! Gotta say, I like what I saw!

As the medics finish taking a shivering Latoya Hixx out of the ice water, Hayes smirks as he raises his hands up high, beginning the long trek back to safety as he enjoys his win.

Savage rolls on to commercial.

"Sex Metal Barbie" by In This Moment plays as Jenny Myst makes her way to the coliseum.
The lights drop hard.

A low pink glow bleeds across the arena as the opening pulse of “Sex Metal Barbie” hits—industrial, predatory, unmistakable. The crowd reaction swells immediately, a mix of boos, awe, and uneasy anticipation, because everyone knows what that song means.

Then she steps through the curtain.

Jenny Myst doesn’t rush. She arrives.

Leather gleams under the lights as she pauses at the top of the ramp, chin tilted slightly upward, eyes scanning the crowd like she’s counting debts. Her expression is calm, almost bored, but there’s cruelty sitting just beneath it, coiled and patient.

On the second beat drop, she rolls her shoulders and starts down the ramp with deliberate, confident strides. Each step syncs with the rhythm—measured, heavy, inevitable. She ignores the fans reaching out, the insults, the chants. Their noise doesn’t register. This isn’t their moment. It’s hers.

Halfway down, Jenny stops.

She turns slowly, eyes locking with the hard camera, and smirks—not playful, not charming, but sharp. A reminder. She lifts Mortimer just enough for the gold to catch the light, mouthing a few words only the camera gets: mine. Then she lets the title fall back against her shoulder like it belongs there… because it does.

Inside the coliseum, she walks straight to the center, turning once more as the music continues to snarl through the arena.

The music fades.

And suddenly, the area feels smaller.

JR: Fan-favorite, Jenny Myst has made her way to the fighting pit!

JC: Fan favorite?! What fans have you been talking to?! Jenny Myst is one of the most loathed members of the roster! She totally screwed up the X division, she cost Game Girl her big moment, and she’s allied with Charlie Nickles and his goon squad!

JR: Well…I’m sure some fans somewhere like Jenny Myst!

JC: Not in this building, they don’t!

Let's light it up hits, and Deena Hixx comes out from behind the curtains and walks out on stage and skips on down the aisle and skips around the coliseum as she waits for her next Opponent to arrive.

JR: Deena Hixx has beef with Jenny Myst, and possibly with Game Girl- stemming from their tag-team match last Warfare where GG served as the special referee! Tonight could be Deena’s big night, where she gets revenge for the humiliation she suffered last week at the hands of Jenny Myst and The Director!

JC: If Deena’s ever had a reason to fight, it’s gotta be this! Jenny Myst really gave it to Deena in that match, and I know Deena can’t wait to get some sweet revenge!

video=youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ByZzz-sxV_c[/video]

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

JC: It’s Game Girl! Hear the roar of the crowd! They love her!

JR: But look at the look of disgust on Jenny’s face- it’s clear there is no love lost between those two!

JC: Jenny and Game Girl have captivated the XWF Universe with their feud, but tonight, it goes to the next level as a spot in the quarterfinals of March Madness is on the line!

JR (Joe Rogan):“Okay first of all… this is insane. There is no ring. This is just stone. If someone falls down those steps, that’s not wrestling. That’s physics.”

JC: “Sí, Joe, but this is spiritual combat. The mountain chooses who wins.”

JR: “…The mountain doesn’t choose. Gravity chooses.”

No timekeeper.

Jenny attacks first.

Not with a scream. Not with theatrics.

She shoves Game Girl directly into Deena.

Bodies collide. Boots scrape against wet stone. Game Girl barely keeps her footing while Deena crashes shoulder-first into one of the carved guardian statues.

A hollow crack echoes.

JR:
“Jesus. That sound alone—”

Jenny doesn’t wait.

She sweeps Game Girl’s legs. Game Girl flips backward, slamming spine-first onto the steps. The impact bounces her down two more uneven tiers before she catches herself on a handrail post.

Jenny stalks forward, boots deliberate. She grabs a fistful of Game Girl’s neon hair extensions and drags her up the steps like she’s hauling loot.

JC:
“Jenny moves like she’s done this before.”

JR:
“She moves like she doesn’t care about long-term damage.”

Deena charges.

Full sprint up the incline.

She spears Jenny from the side.

All three women tumble sideways off the central stairway and into a gravel prayer clearing. The fall isn’t graceful. It’s ugly. Ankles twist. Elbows scrape. Jenny’s shoulder smacks against a wooden offertory box.

Game Girl rolls out coughing.

Deena mounts Jenny and throws forearms — fast, desperate, heavy.

This isn’t polished EPW pacing.

This is streetfight rhythm.

Jenny absorbs three.

On the fourth, she bites.

Not theatrical. Not exaggerated.

She bites Deena’s wrist.

Deena recoils with a scream.

JR:
“Oh that’s real. That’s real.”

JC:
“La montaña approves violence.”

JR:
“…That’s not how mountains work.”

Game Girl scrambles to her feet and yanks down one of the thick shrine ropes used for ceremonial bells. It doesn’t come loose fully — but it gives enough.

She swings it.

The rope smashes into Jenny’s ribs.

A second swing catches Deena across the back.

Game Girl laughs.

“NEW LEVEL UNLOCKED!”

Jenny lunges low and tackles Game Girl into a shallow reflecting pool beside the shrine. Water splashes violently over the stone lip.

They hit submerged rock.

Game Girl’s head narrowly avoids a corner.

Jenny presses her face into the water.

Bubbles explode upward.

JR:
“Oh my god she’s drowning her.”

Deena slides into frame and drives a knee into Jenny’s temple, breaking it up. All three women are soaked now. Clothes heavy. Hair plastered. Stone even slicker.

They climb again.

Higher.

Each step narrower than the last.

Camera angles widen to show the drop behind them.

Jenny hooks Deena’s arm and whips her into a wooden lantern post. The post splinters partially.

Deena collapses sideways.

Game Girl runs at Jenny with a flying forearm — slips mid-air — crashes chest-first into the steps instead.

The sound is sickening.

JR:
“That’s what I was talking about. There’s no give. None.”

Jenny doesn’t waste motion. She drags Game Girl upright and delivers a snap DDT directly onto a flat stone slab used for offerings.

Game Girl goes limp for a second.

Jenny rises slowly.

Then Deena tackles her from behind and both slide dangerously close to the edge of the
elevated walkway.

For a split second—

Boot heels hang over open air.

JC gasps audibly.

Jenny claws Deena’s eyes and rolls away just before gravity finishes the match for them. A pele kick takes Deena down.

JC: OLE!

Deena Hixx was barely upright when Jenny Myst and Game Girl turned toward each other at the same time beneath the looming red frame of the Gate of the Gods. The air up there felt thinner, sharper. Fog rolled between the torii pillars and wrapped around their legs like something alive. Deena staggered between them, dazed from the earlier impact on stone, but neither of them cared. Not anymore. The rivalry had boiled past competition, past petty insult, past scoreboard logic. This wasn’t about wins. This was about erasure.

Game Girl struck first, not with flair but with fury. A forearm smashed into Jenny’s jaw with a crack that echoed against cedar and stone. Jenny’s head snapped sideways, and for a split second she smiled through it — not amused, but awakened. She fired back with a palm strike to the throat, driving Game Girl backward into one of the ancient wooden beams supporting the shrine’s upper platform. The impact rattled the structure, loose dust shaking free from the crossbar above them.

JR: “OH! That’s not performance. That’s hatred.”

JC: “Sí, They fight like they want to delete each other.”

Game Girl lunged again, tackling Jenny at the waist, and the two crashed down hard onto the uneven stone walkway. They rolled dangerously close to the edge before Jenny dug her boots in and reversed, climbing on top and raining down sharp, piston-like forearms. No wasted motion. No theatrics. Just punishment. Game Girl bucked violently beneath her, shoving Jenny off and scrambling to her knees. She swung wildly — a hook that clipped Jenny’s cheek — then another that missed completely as her foot slipped on lingering water from the reflecting pool below.

Jenny seized the moment. She hooked Game Girl’s head and drove her face-first into the stone with a vicious snap DDT. The sound was dull and awful, skull meeting rock without canvas to soften it. Game Girl sprawled flat, arms splayed.

But Deena was still breathing.

And Deena was desperate.

She charged through the fog with a guttural scream, launching herself into Jenny with a flying shoulder that took them both down in a heap. Deena mounted Jenny and hammered down fists — not precise, not polished, but raw and relentless. This was her chance. Her opening. Her proof that she belonged in the same air as these two.

Jenny absorbed two blows, then three, before trapping Deena’s arm and rolling her into a sudden triangle choke on the stone. Deena flailed, heel scraping against moss as she tried to break free.

Game Girl rose behind them like a ghost with a respawn timer finally ticking to zero.

She didn’t hesitate.

She sprinted and launched a low, brutal dropkick into Jenny’s ribs, breaking the hold and sending all three bodies scattering across the platform. The torii gate framed the chaos, red against gray sky, as wind whipped their hair across their faces.

They were no longer circling.

They were colliding.

Game Girl grabbed Jenny by the hair and dragged her upright, screaming something about “endgame” and “final boss.” Jenny answered with a headbutt so violent it snapped Game Girl’s nose sideways in a burst of red. Blood sprayed across the stone between them. Game Girl staggered but didn’t fall. She tackled Jenny again, this time driving her backward into Deena, who had just found her footing.

All three went down in a tangled crash.

They rolled, clawing, grabbing, slapping at whatever flesh they could reach. Boots scraped. Elbows cracked against skulls. At one point Jenny’s fingers dug into Game Girl’s mouth while Game Girl clawed at Jenny’s eyes. Deena tried to separate them, only to catch a wild back elbow from Game Girl and a knee from Jenny in the same breath.

JR’s voice was almost laughing in disbelief. “This is feral. This isn’t even structured anymore.”

“No referee can control this,” JC added.

Jenny suddenly shifted her weight and hooked Deena from behind, pulling her up into a brutal snap reverse DDT that spiked Deena’s skull directly onto the flat offering slab. Deena’s body went limp instantly, eyes glassy, arms slack.

But Jenny didn’t have time to capitalize.

Game Girl roared and barreled into her from the side, tackling her so hard both women slid across the stone and nearly collided with one of the guardian statues at the platform’s edge. Game Girl scrambled to her feet first and hit a stiff running knee to Jenny’s face that dropped her flat.

Deena, somehow still twitching on instinct alone, rolled halfway onto her side between them.

That’s when it happened.

Game Girl dove onto Deena, hooking her leg instinctively.

At the exact same moment, Jenny lunged and draped herself across Deena’s upper body, arm hooked over the shoulder.

Both women screamed, “ONE!”

There was no referee.

But they counted anyway.

“TWO!”

JR couldn’t help himself. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“THREE!”

Both Jenny and Game Girl popped up at the same time, adrenaline surging, each pointing at the other with fury.

“I pinned her!”

“No, I did!”

“You were late!”

“You were on the shoulder!”

Deena lay between them unmoving, chest barely rising, utterly spent. It didn’t matter who claimed it. She wasn’t getting up. The mountain had taken her.

But Jenny and Game Girl weren’t finished.

They shoved each other hard enough to echo off the gate.

“You needed me to finish her!”

“You only jumped in because you knew I had it!”

Wind howled through the torii as they squared up again, chests heaving, blood mixing with shrine water on their skin.

Deena Hixx is eliminated.

Deena Hixx lies motionless several yards down the stone platform, eliminated in spirit if not formally counted out, and the only sound for a moment is wind combing through cedar trees and the ragged breathing of two women who would rather break than yield.

Jenny Myst wipes blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand and stares across the slick stone at Game Girl. No smirk now. No wink at a camera. Just heat. Game Girl, nose still leaking from that headbutt, bounces lightly on her toes, eyes wild and bright like she’s loading into sudden death mode.

JR: “Alright, this is it. Forget the triple threat. This is personal. This is two people who legitimately hate each other.”

JC: “Sí, Joe. This is no longer match. This is vendetta.”

Game Girl rushes first, a blur of neon and fury, swinging a forearm that clips Jenny’s jaw and snaps her head sideways. Jenny stumbles back one step—only one—before firing back with a knife-edge chop that cracks across Game Girl’s chest like a gunshot. The sound echoes off stone and wood, bouncing beneath the Gate of the Gods.

JR: “Listen to that! There is no give here. Every strike is amplified.”

Game Girl answers with a spinning backfist that catches Jenny across the cheekbone. Jenny retaliates with a low kick to the thigh, then another, chopping Game Girl’s base down one strike at a time. Game Girl screams and lunges, tackling Jenny at the waist and driving her backward into one of the wooden shrine posts. The entire structure rattles as their bodies slam into it, dust drifting down from the crossbeam above.

They tumble to the ground in a violent sprawl, hands immediately clawing for control. Jenny hooks Game Girl’s arm and rolls, attempting a grounded armbar directly on stone. Game Girl screams as her elbow hyperextends, but instead of tapping she grabs a fistful of Jenny’s hair and yanks her head backward into the rock. The impact stuns Jenny just long enough for Game Girl to slip free and scramble upright.

JR: “That’s desperation. That’s what this rivalry has done to them.”

Game Girl charges and lands a brutal running knee that splits Jenny’s lip fully open. Blood spills freely now, bright against the gray platform. Jenny staggers but doesn’t fall. She grabs Game Girl by the collar and headbutts her again—harder this time. Game Girl reels, nearly losing her footing on moss-slick stone.

They circle, slower now but more vicious.

Jenny suddenly surges forward and connects with a snap suplex that rattles Game Girl’s spine against the slab. Instead of releasing, she floats over into mounted punches, each shot driving Game Girl’s head back against the stone. Game Girl bucks, twisting, managing to trap Jenny’s arm and reverse into a grounded hammerlock that she cranks mercilessly.

JC: “Ay dios. The shoulder is not made for this.”

Game Girl drags Jenny by the arm toward the edge of the platform and smashes her shoulder into the corner of a carved guardian statue. Jenny roars in pain, clutching the limb. Game Girl senses momentum and unleashes a flurry—low kick, high kick, spinning heel kick—each one snapping Jenny’s head around in different directions.

JR: “She’s stringing it together now. She’s feeling it.”

Jenny collapses to one knee. Game Girl backs up, measuring distance like she’s lining up a combo meter.

She sprints.

A flip kick explodes upward under Jenny’s chin, snapping her head back and sending her crashing flat onto the stone. Game Girl lands and rolls fluidly into a raging uppercut that lifts Jenny halfway off the ground before she crashes back down.

JR: “Oh! That’s that video game nonsense!”

Game Girl grabs Jenny by the wrist and yanks her upright, only to slam her down with a vicious down throw, Jenny’s spine bouncing violently off the shrine floor. Game Girl transitions seamlessly into a stomping flurry to the midsection—the so-called Romper Stomper—boots hammering ribs, abdomen, chest in rapid succession.

Jenny curls, gasping.

Game Girl roars, adrenaline surging, and suddenly spins into a Power Geyser-style strike that crashes down across Jenny’s torso, the impact reverberating through the entire platform.

JR: “This is insane! She’s unloading everything!”

Game Girl pulls Jenny up again. Another strike. Another spinning impact. She flows through the sequence with manic precision, shouting button inputs like incantations, each move chaining into the next with frightening speed.

Moon Gravity flip kick.

Raging uppercut.

Grab.

Down throw.

Romper Stomper.

Power Geyser.

Then she grips Jenny by the collar, hooks her arm, and transitions into the final stretch of the ULTRA COMBO—mashing strikes into Jenny’s body before yanking her into a sudden violent face-first slam that spikes her skull against the shrine stone.

Jenny goes still.

Game Girl, chest heaving, throws her head back and screams triumphantly.

JR: “Oh my god. That’s gotta be it. That’s gotta be it!”

JC: “She has executed the entire sequence!”

Game Girl collapses on top of Jenny, hooking the leg deep, pressing her forearm across Jenny’s face in a smug, grinding cover.

“ONE!”

JR slaps the desk instinctively even without a referee present.

“TWO!”

The mountain wind howls.

Game Girl grins, certain.

And that’s when three figures come sprinting out from behind the upper shrine building like they just took a wrong turn on a haunted tour.

Charlie is still wearing a souvenir kimono jacket that says “I Climbed the Gods” in glittery English across the back. Mr. Oz has a tourist map flapping wildly in his hand and what appears to be a half-eaten mochi. Jennie Nickles is dragging behind them, breathless, clutching a selfie stick and muttering something about “the Uber driver said this was a cultural experience.”

JR: “…What the hell?”

JC: “How did they get here?”

As they reach the platform, Charlie yells, “We followed the livestream drone!” Mr. Oz points triumphantly at the sky as if that explains everything. Jennie Nickles tosses the selfie stick aside like she’s about to enter a Royal Rumble.

Game Girl doesn’t even see them coming.

Charlie dives first, tackling her sideways off Jenny at the absolute last second before an imaginary three could land. Mr. Oz follows with a flying forearm that looks more enthusiastic than accurate but still connects with Game Girl’s shoulder. Jennie Nickles launches herself with a surprisingly effective crossbody that sends all four of them crashing into a chaotic pile.

JR: “They just mugged her! They just jumped her!”

JC: “This is ambush!”

Game Girl thrashes wildly, trying to kick free, but three bodies overwhelm her. Charlie rains down wild punches. Mr. Oz shouts directions nobody understands. Jennie Nickles manages to hook Game Girl’s arm and wrench it backward while yelling, “CULTURAL EXCHANGE PROGRAM!”

Jenny, still dazed, slowly rolls onto her side and watches the chaos unfold. Blood drips from her lip. One eye nearly swollen shut. But she smiles again.

JR: “You’ve got to be kidding me. She was done. She was done.”

JC: “But destiny intervenes.”

Game Girl finally breaks loose with a savage back elbow that knocks Mr. Oz flat and a spinning kick that sends Jennie Nickles stumbling into a shrine lantern. She shoves Charlie off and staggers upright, fury radiating from her like heat off asphalt.

But the damage is done.

Jenny is rising.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

JR: “What is that? Do you hear that?”

JC: “That is… not traditional shrine music.”

From somewhere down the winding mountain path, a portable speaker blasts aggressive hardcore entrance music that sounds like it was downloaded illegally in 2004. The volume grows louder. The camera swings toward the lower stairway just in time to see something absurd rounding the bend.

A tourist tram.

Not the elegant kind.

One of those open-air electric shuttle carts used for elderly sightseeing tours.

And driving it?

Scoops McGee.

Wearing a neon press vest, goggles strapped over his forehead, holding a selfie-stick-mounted GoPro like he’s narrating a war documentary.

“WE FOLLOWED THE GEO-TAG, BABY!” he screams into the camera.

In the passenger seat, Dickie Watson clutches the rail with white knuckles, sunglasses askew, scarf flapping wildly in the mountain wind like he thinks he’s in a cologne commercial.

And standing in the back of the moving tram like a pirate captain claiming new land—

Amber Mansley.

Hair whipping. Smirk sharp. Arms spread wide as if she’s conquering Olympus.

JR: “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

JC: “They took the tourist shuttle.”

The tram jerks to a stop halfway up the incline because Scoops forgets to release the parking brake. Dickie immediately stumbles out, trips over a stone lantern, recovers like nothing happened, and yells, “WE ARE LIVE, PEOPLE!”

Amber steps down far more composed, adjusting her jacket and surveying the battlefield like she just arrived fashionably late to a funeral she planned.
Jenny, still standing over Game Girl’s body after the previous interference, slowly turns toward the commotion.

Game Girl, groggy but alive, sees them and begins to grin.

JR: “Oh no. Oh no. This just escalated.”

Amber claps once, sharp and mocking.

“Well look at this,” she calls out. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you almost lose the final boss battle?”

Game Girl pushes up to her knees, adrenaline surging back into her veins.

Charlie, Mr. Oz, and Jennie Nickles freeze mid-retreat.

Scoops is already narrating into his camera: “HOUSE OF HARDCORE HAS ENTERED THE SHRINE ZONE! CULTURAL IMMERSION ENGAGED!”

Dickie points dramatically at Jenny’s crew. “We came prepared. We brought hydration.”
He pulls a plastic convenience store bag from the tram and hurls a bottled green tea that bounces harmlessly off Mr. Oz’s shoulder.

And then Amber doesn’t waste another second.

She sprints.

Straight at Jenny.

The collision is violent and immediate. Amber tackles Jenny low and drives her into the wooden shrine wall with a thud that rattles hanging prayer charms loose. Game Girl explodes forward at the same time, tackling Charlie into a sideways sprawl across the stone steps.

JR: “We have a full faction brawl on sacred ground!”

JC: “This shrine has never seen this before!”

Scoops McGee dives in—not gracefully—but with enthusiasm, attempting a double axe handle that instead clips Jennie Nickles awkwardly in the shoulder. Dickie Watson throws hands wildly like he learned fighting from watching soap operas.

Jenny and Amber roll across the platform, trading vicious punches. Amber mounts briefly and hammers down forearms, screaming about unfinished business. Jenny bucks her off and drives a knee into Amber’s midsection before slamming her head against one of the torii pillars.
Game Girl and Charlie trade boots in the background, Game Girl hitting a spinning back kick that sends Charlie crashing into a ceremonial drum. The drum rolls down three steps and nearly takes out Scoops, who yells, “This is premium content!”

Mr. Oz and Dickie lock up in what can only be described as confused grappling. Dickie attempts a headlock but slips on moss, dragging both of them down in a tangle of limbs.

JR: “Nobody has footing! Nobody!”

Amber regains control and whips Jenny toward the edge of the platform, but Jenny reverses at the last second and sends Amber shoulder-first into a shrine lantern post that splinters on impact. Amber drops to one knee, winded.

Game Girl breaks away from Charlie and rushes Jenny from behind—but Jennie Nickles leaps onto Game Girl’s back like an over-caffeinated backpack, clawing at her headset mic and yelling, “NO BUFFS!”

Scoops tries to peel Jennie off, only to get clocked by Mr. Oz with a wild spinning elbow that he absolutely did not mean to land.

JR: “This is a riot. This is an absolute riot.”

Amber pulls herself up and charges again, colliding with Jenny at center platform. They exchange brutal strikes—forearm for forearm, knee for knee—while behind them, their factions descend into a mess of slipping, shouting, half-coordinated chaos.

Dickie attempts a dramatic flying clothesline off a step but overshoots and lands flat on his back. Scoops helps him up while still narrating into the GoPro, breathless and exhilarated.
Game Girl finally shoves Jennie Nickles off and lands a stiff kick to Charlie’s ribs, but Mr. Oz blindsides her with a surprisingly effective running shoulder that sends her sliding across the stone.

Amber grabs Jenny’s hair again, screaming something about loyalty and dominance, but Jenny counters with a savage headbutt and a short-arm lariat that turns Amber inside out.

JR: “These two factions are not stopping.”

JC: “The mountain is shaking.”

Bodies are everywhere now. On steps. Against pillars.

The shrine platform is pure anarchy now—boots slipping, bodies colliding, prayer charms scattered like confetti from a blasphemous parade. The tourist tram continues to creep backward down the incline behind them, its hazard lights blinking uselessly while Scoops McGee tries to shout updates into his GoPro and throw hands at the same time.

He doesn’t see Jenny coming.

She turns from Amber’s last failed strike and moves with zero hesitation. Scoops steps forward, chest puffed, yelling something about exclusive coverage—

Jenny drives her knee straight upward.

Dead center.

Scoops’ voice cuts off in a strangled gasp as he folds in half, GoPro tumbling from his hand and clattering across stone. He drops to both knees, eyes wide, hands cupping himself like he’s trying to hold his entire lineage together.

JR: “Ohhhhh! That was direct! That was immediate regret!”

JC: “That man will not have descendants!”

Dickie Watson rushes in indignantly, scarf flapping, arms windmilling in dramatic fury. He swings wild—Jenny doesn’t even flinch. She sidesteps, plants her palm across his face in a vicious open-handed slap that echoes under the torii gate, and shoves him backward. Dickie spins, stumbles, and collapses onto Scoops in a heap of injured pride and poor decisions.

JR: “She just swatted him like a mosquito.”

Jenny exhales once, sharp.

And then she sees Amber.

Amber Mansley is pushing herself upright, fury etched across her face, hair wild from the collision with the lantern post. She wipes blood from her mouth and locks eyes with Jenny. No theatrics. No speeches.

They charge simultaneously.

Amber swings first—Jenny ducks beneath it and hooks Amber’s arm, pivoting on her heel with predatory precision. She drags Amber in close, twisting her body backward into position.

JR’s voice drops low. “Oh no…”

Jenny plants her feet on the slick stone and pulls Amber forward and down into the most violent Pink Perfection the shrine has ever witnessed. The Sister Abigail-style spin isn’t graceful—it’s brutal. Jenny whips Amber’s head and upper body around with vicious torque and spikes her face-first into the unforgiving slab beneath the Gate of the Gods.

The sound is sickening.

Amber’s body crumples instantly, limbs limp, eyes unfocused.

Silence hits for a half-second.

JR: “That’s it. She’s out. She’s completely out.”

JC: “That was execution.”

Jenny doesn’t even look back at Scoops groaning on the ground or Dickie clutching his jaw. Amber lies motionless at her feet, knocked clean into stillness.

Then Jenny lifts her head.

Across the platform, Game Girl has just muscled her way through Charlie, shoving him hard into one of the shrine drums before catching him with a stiff spinning kick that drops him flat. Jennie Nickles scrambles away. Mr. Oz is tangled with Dickie and Scoops in a confused pile of limbs.
Game Girl stands tall now, breathing heavy, chest rising and falling, eyes blazing with triumph.

She sees Amber down.

She sees Jenny standing.

JR: “Oh. Oh this just changed.”

Game Girl wipes blood from her nose and smirks, adrenaline roaring through her veins. She spreads her arms slightly as if to say, “Round two.”

Jenny steps forward slowly, boots deliberate on wet stone. No smile this time. No flourish. Just a predator locking onto its target.

Wind whips through the torii again, snapping loose prayer ribbons against wood. Amber lies out cold between them. Scoops groans somewhere in the background. Dickie crawls away in dazed embarrassment.

Game Girl cracks her neck.

Jenny rolls her shoulders.

JR: “This is what it was always going to be. Strip everything else away. Just these two.”

JC: “The shrine becomes their ring.”

The wind howls again beneath the Gate of the Gods, snapping loose paper charms against ancient wood as Jenny Myst and Game Girl square off for what feels like the inevitable end. Around them, bodies are strewn across the shrine platform—Scoops groaning in falsetto agony, Dickie crawling in circles, Amber Mansley unconscious near the torii post, Charlie and the rest of Jenny’s crew trying to recover.

But none of that matters.

Game Girl steps forward first, jaw clenched, eyes locked on Jenny like she’s about to finish what the ULTRA COMBO started. Her breathing is heavy, her nose still leaking, but she looks feral. Focused. She points at Jenny and mouths something about “no interruptions this time.”

JR: “This is it. No factions. No interference. Just them.”

JC: “This is destiny moment.”

Game Girl lunges—

And out of absolutely nowhere—

Deena Hixx explodes into frame like a human missile.

Nobody sees her coming.

Not the camera.

Not JR.

Not even Jenny.

Deena, who everyone assumed was finished, eliminated, discarded by the mountain—comes screaming in from the side and dives low, both arms hooking Game Girl’s leg.

CHOP BLOCK.

Game Girl’s knee buckles violently sideways.

The sound is sharp and wrong.

Game Girl collapses instantly, shrieking as she grabs her knee and rolls onto her side.

JR: “OH MY GOD! Where did she come from?!”

JC: “Deena! Deena last stand!”

Deena doesn’t stay to fight. She doesn’t posture. She doesn’t even look at Jenny.
She scrambles upright on instinct, adrenaline burning through her like she’s running on fumes. She stumbles backward, nearly slipping on the moss-covered edge of the platform—and then loses her footing completely.

Her boot slides.

Her balance goes.

Deena tumbles backward down the mountain steps, rolling awkwardly down the incline, clutching her own shoulder and screaming as she disappears through fog and cedar branches below.

JR: “She just rolled down the damn mountain!”

JC: “That is sacrifice!”

Game Girl is still on the stone, clutching her knee, eyes wide with fury and disbelief.

Jenny blinks once.

Then she understands.

And she moves.

She lunges forward before Game Girl can fully recover, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her upright despite the damaged leg. Game Girl swings wildly in desperation, but her base is gone—she can’t plant, can’t pivot, can’t generate power.

Jenny hooks the arm.

Pulls her in close.

Spins.

And drills her with Pink Perfection—the most violent Sister Abigail of the night—snapping Game Girl’s head and torso downward into the unforgiving shrine slab.

The impact echoes under the torii.

Game Girl goes limp.

Jenny doesn’t hesitate. She collapses on top, hooking the far leg tight.

JR slams the desk. “No. No way.”

“ONE!”

JC’s voice cracks. “Uno!”

“ TWO!”

JR is already shouting. “She stole this! She stole it!”

“THREE!”

Winner and ADVANCING - Jenny Myst

Silence.

Just wind.

Jenny rolls off slowly, chest heaving, blood streaked across her face, eyes glassy but triumphant.

Game Girl lies flat on her back, knee twisted awkwardly, chest barely rising.

JR: “That is highway robbery. She had nothing left. She was done. Deena chop-blocks her and rolls off the damn mountain and Jenny capitalizes.”

JC: “It is opportunist victory.”

JR shakes his head audibly. “Game Girl was about to finish her. We all saw it. She had the combo. She had the momentum. And Jenny just—she took it. She took it.”

Jenny rises slowly beneath the Gate of the Gods. Amber unconscious. Game Girl flattened.

Deena vanished somewhere down the slope.

The shrine wind whips through her hair as she lifts her chin and looks out over the mountain horizon.

JR’s voice lowers, half stunned, half impressed.

“Love her or hate her… she survived. And she is moving on. But she goddamn stole it.”

JC murmurs softly, “In House of Hardcore… survival is everything.”

Jenny Myst stands alone under the torii gate as fog swallows the fallen.

Jenny stands over Game Girl’s body, chest rising and falling in sharp bursts, blood streaked across her lip and down her chin. The wind pulls strands of blonde hair across her face as Game Girl lies flat on the stone, knee twisted awkwardly, eyes unfocused.

JR: “She knows she stole it. You can see it on her face.”

JC: “But she does not care.”

Jenny slowly bends down.

Not to help.

Not to check.

She grabs a fistful of Game Girl’s neon hair and lifts her head just enough so she can look into her eyes.

“Should’ve protected the knee,” she whispers — calm, cruel, deliberate.

She lets her head drop back to the stone with a dull knock.

JR: “That’s unnecessary.”

Jenny wipes Game Girl’s blood across her own cheek like war paint.

Then she plants her boot on Game Girl’s chest.

Full weight.

Pressing down just enough to remind everyone watching who is standing and who is not.

JC: “That is dominance.”

Jenny looks out past the torii gate, past the fallen bodies of Amber, Scoops, Dickie. She spreads her arms slowly — not celebratory, not theatrical — but claiming the summit like she conquered it.

Then she kneels beside Game Girl again.

Leans down close to her ear.

“GAME OVER”.

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQsECrAWc80BHqIDDcT81K...hckcvS3Q&s]

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQsECrAWc80BHqIDDcT81K...hckcvS3Q&s]

“Now, who’s ready to be baptized into a new era of entertainment?!”

The lights go out in the arena as the voice calls out its query. A moment later, bright, twinkling lights like stars scatter across the building.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day
You gotta climb a little higher,
To the top of the display,
Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

The starlight intensifies as a figure rises from beneath the platform, her back to the crowd, head down. The song continues to echo throughout the arena, electric and intense. Her blonde hair is tied into a tight shark-braid that swings back and forth as she bounces from foot to foot.

“If you want it, just take it,
The world's yours, don’t waste it,
Go make the stars align, to shine-”

The rising platform levels to the arena floor in unison with the beat drop to the song.

“BRIGHTER!”

As the word echoes through the arena, an explosion of sparkling pyrotechnics go off as Betsy Granger throws out her arms, revealing a blue chiffon robe lit with bright stars.

“Brighter than the heavens in the skies above,
(oooh oooh)
You’ll be,
BRIGHTER!"

Twirling gracefully to face the crowd, she points skyward as the lights in the arena flood back on. Betsy bounces twice before half-running, half-skipping down the ramp towards the coliseum.

"Going supernova, all the eyes look up
(at you, at you)
BRIGHTER!”

The song switches to an instrumental break as she does one complete circuit around the coliseum. As she comes to a stop, the music swells, and the crowd joins in like a devoted choir, just the same as the song itself.

“BRIIIIIIIIIGHTEEEEERRRRRRR”

Betsy grins widely and bounces from foot to foot, ready for the fight.

JC: The crowd is going nuts for The Impossible Traveler! Perennial fan-favorite, Betsy Granger drew a tough matchup for round 1: but good luck telling her that! She’s as confident as ever!

JR: I think Sebastian might be pumping her full of confidence every night!

JC: Disgusting. Don’t even say that about Betsy, ya creep.

The sound of a vintage picture reel began to click and pop, the screen illuminating up counting down like a picture show. The pops, scratches, nicks and debris covered the screen, the numbers counting down, 5...4....3....2....1....as the reel continued, electric synth music cuts, industrial and ominous

##The road I walk is paved in gold###
##To glorify my platinum soul##
##I'll buy my way to talk to God##
##So he can live with what I'm not3##

On the screen, a barrage of action shots, in still form from Apathy's career, centered and fixated, like an old film would. As the arena went down, red and white lights bathing the fans in a sea of color, Elizabeth rises from beneath the stage, head lowered, arms outstretched. A mixed chorus of boos, jeers and cheers pelted at her. She gradually raises her head, soaking in the animosity and fervent support. Inhaling it like a drug

##This selfish blood runs through my veins##
##I gave up everything for fame##
##I am the lie that humans are##
##I feed the rich and fuck the poor##

As the heavy bass kicks in and the words reverberate through the arena, she snaps her head up, a cocky self-assured smirk creeping across her lips as she saunters her way to the ring casually engaging towards the fans either encouraging more of their venomous verbal harassment or acknowledging the respect and adoration from her legions and devotees, basking in the glow

#I got what you want#
#It just don't stop#

#I got what you want#
#It just don't stop#
#This is entertainment#
#Lies are entertainment#
#You are down on your knees#
#Begging me for more#

JR: And here comes Apathy! A newcomer to the XWF, but not a newcomer to wrestling! She’s built a name for herself in federations across the world, and now, she’s looking to pull off a major upset tonight en route to her first March Madness victory!

JC: They may call her Apathy, but she looks locked and loaded, and completely ready for tonight’s battle! To our fans watching at home who don’t know much about her: I promise you this much, you’re gonna learn what a badass woman looks like by the end of this one!

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

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

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

The story is the stage.

A wide platform stretches out from the entranceway like a pier. It’s slick, glossy, and too close to the black, rippling water that hugs the arena’s edge like it’s waiting for a sacrifice. Floodlights reflect off the surface in broken shards, and every time the wind kicks up, the water hisses against the retaining wall.

No safety rails. No mercy.

JR (Joe Rogan): Alright—see that? That’s water. That’s not a “fun hazard.” That’s drowning-adjacent.
JC: It’s the lake, Joe. It’s purification. Or punishment.
JR: It’s hypothermia is what it is.

All three competitors are already on the stage when the bell rings—because the ring is optional, and survival isn’t.

Apathy stands motionless, posture loose like a woman waiting for the world to end.

Betsy Granger is coiled and furious, pacing the edge as if she wants to throw hands with the lake itself.

Dickie Watson adjusts his sleeves, checks his footing, and looks out over the water like he’s trying to remember whether he knows how to swim.

JR: Dickie’s looking at that water like it owes him money.
JC: Or like he’s about to sue it.

DING DING DING!

No one rushes.

Then Betsy does.

She darts straight at Dickie, cracking him with a forearm that pops loud over the open air. Dickie stumbles back two steps, boots skidding on the damp surface.

Apathy doesn’t move.

She just watches.

Betsy snaps another forearm into Dickie’s jaw and follows with a short, brutal kick to the thigh. Dickie’s leg buckles slightly, and Betsy tries to grab him by the collar—

Dickie rips free, swings a wild backhand, and Betsy ducks it easily, grinning like she’s already figured out the rhythm of his panic.

Apathy finally drifts forward—slow, deliberate—like a shadow deciding to become a person.

She reaches for Betsy’s shoulder.

Betsy spins and blasts her with a back elbow that catches her square in the face.

Apathy doesn’t fall.

She just turns his head back into place like it annoyed him.

JR: That is unsettling. That’s not normal.
JC: Apathy doesn’t react to pain the way other people do. She reacts to inconvenience.

Dickie sees the opening and lunges, grabbing Apathy around the waist and driving her back toward the edge—

But Apathy plants her feet.

She anchors.

Then she grabs Dickie’s head with both hands and shoves him forward, hard—sending Dickie stumbling right into Betsy’s path.

Betsy boots Dickie in the stomach and snaps him down with a sharp front facelock takedown onto the stage. Dickie hits flat, the impact echoing like the platform is hollow.

Betsy covers—more instinct than strategy.

ONE!

Apathy’s boot stomps down on Betsy’s back and crushes the pin attempt before it becomes anything.

Betsy snarls and rolls away, clutching her ribs, and Apathy drops to one knee beside Dickie and just… stares.

Dickie tries to sit up.

Apathy palms his forehead and shoves him down again, slow, casual, humiliating.

JR: Apathy’s not even hitting him. She’s just… putting him where he wants him.
JC: That is control. That is domination without effort.

Betsy charges Apathy and swings—Apathy slips it without urgency and catches her wrist. She twists, bending Betsy forward, and drags her toward the water’s edge like he’s taking out the trash.

Betsy digs her boots in and fights the pull, but the surface is slick. Her heel skids.

For a split second, Betsy’s balance goes.

Dickie springs up behind them and shoves both bodies—a desperate shove—trying to send them tumbling.

Instead, Apathy lets Betsy go.

Betsy stumbles forward… barely catching herself.

Apathy turns with the shove and looks at Dickie.

It’s not anger.

It’s decision.

Apathy walks at Dickie and begins clubbing him with short, heavy forearms—thud, thud, thud—driving him backward.

Dickie throws a sloppy jab—Apathy eats it.

Dickie throws another—Apathy absorbs it, then grabs Dickie’s arm and yanks him into a crushing headbutt.

Dickie collapses to one knee, dazed.

Betsy sees the shift and sprints, dropkicking Apathy in the spine.

Apathy lurches forward.

Betsy hooks her immediately, trying to hoist—

Apathy deadweights.

Betsy strains, teeth bared, and still gets her half-lifted—

Dickie staggers up and hits Betsy with a running forearm that clips her cheekbone and turns her sideways.

Betsy drops Apathy.

Apathy doesn’t fall.

She pivots and shoves Dickie hard—sending him sliding toward the water.

Dickie windmills his arms, boots scraping, fighting to stop.

He does—barely—right at the edge.

The water slaps below.

A hush ripples through the crowd.

JR: That was almost it. One slip and they’re swimming with the ghosts.
JC: Or becoming one.

Betsy grabs Apathy from behind and tries to throw her—

Apathy finally snaps.

Not emotionally.

Physically.

She grabs Betsy’s arm, pivots, and launches her with a savage hip toss.

Betsy hits the stage and slides—straight toward the edge.

She claws at the surface, fingers squealing against wet material, stopping inches short of the drop.

Dickie sees it and pounces—trying to stomp Betsy’s hand.

Betsy yanks it away and kicks Dickie in the shin, sending him stumbling.

Apathy steps forward behind Dickie and wraps him in a rear waistlock.

For a moment, it looks like Apathy is going to suplex Dickie into the water.

Dickie panics, grabbing at Apathy’s fingers, peeling them loose—

Betsy surges up and SMASHES Apathy with a running knee to the side of the head.

Apathy’s grip breaks.

Dickie spins, grabs Apathy by the arm, and with pure survival instinct—

He and Betsy both shove.

Apathy slides.

Her boots skid.

Her heel catches nothing.

And Apathy drops off the stage into the lake.

A splash detonates under the lights, water erupting in a violent burst.

For half a second, you can’t see her.

JR: OH! She’s in! She’s in the damn lake!
JC: The hazard has claimed its first.

Apathy surfaces—slow—hair plastered, hood gone, eyes blank as the water streams off her face.

She reaches for the stage edge.

Security and officials are already moving, shouting, arms out—

Apathy tries to pull up, but her hand slips on the wet ledge.

She drops back under, resurfaces again, and just… floats, staring.

The referee leans out from the stage with frantic signals.

RING OUT!

Apathy is eliminated.

JR: That counts! That’s a ring out! He’s gone!
JC: He returned to the lake like it called him home.
JR: Or like gravity called him home, which is still my point.

And now—

It’s just Betsy Granger and Dickie Watson on a stage slicker than sin, with water waiting below like a mouth.

They both stand there breathing hard, staring at each other.

Betsy wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist and laughs once—sharp.

Dickie adjusts his sleeves again.

Not because it helps.

Because it calms him.

JR: Alright, now this becomes a fight-fight.
JC: No shadows now. Only pride.

Betsy rushes first—forearm to Dickie’s jaw, then a second that snaps his head sideways. Dickie fires back with a desperate chop that cracks across Betsy’s chest.

Betsy doesn’t flinch.

She answers with a kick to the ribs and whips Dickie by the wrist—trying to sling him off the edge.

Dickie plants his feet and yanks back, pulling Betsy in—

Betsy ducks under and catches Dickie with a spinning back elbow that drops him to a knee.

Betsy grabs a fistful of hair and drags him toward the edge.

Dickie scrapes at her wrist, boots sliding, trying to find traction.

Betsy shoves.

Dickie’s heel hits the lip.

The crowd rises.

Dickie throws his arms out, catches the edge post with both hands, and holds on like his life depends on it.

Because it does.

Betsy stomps his fingers.

Dickie yelps and almost slips—

But he swings his legs up and kicks Betsy in the knee, knocking her backward.

Dickie hauls himself back onto the stage, soaked with sweat and fear.

He charges Betsy with a wild lariat—

Betsy ducks it and catches him with a snap German suplex right onto the platform.

Dickie bounces.

Betsy covers.

ONE!
TWO—!

Dickie kicks out hard, shoulder popping off the stage.

JR: That was close! That was the match!
JC: Betsy smelled blood and almost ended the story.

Betsy hauls Dickie up and cracks him with a palm strike, then another, then a headbutt.

Dickie staggers, eyes glassy.

Betsy whips him toward a stage truss—

Dickie reverses at the last second, sending Betsy instead.

Betsy stops short, turns back—

Dickie hits her with a running knee that drops her to both knees.

Dickie falls on her for a cover.

ONE!
TWO—!

Betsy powers out, snarling, shoving him off like he’s insulting her.

They rise at the same time, foreheads nearly touching, and start trading strikes in the ugliest way possible—no finesse, no rhythm, just rage.

Betsy lands a chop.

Dickie lands one back.

Betsy slaps him.

Dickie shoves her.

Betsy spits at his feet.

Dickie’s eyes widen like he can’t believe she’d do that.

Then he SMACKS her with a forearm that finally rocks her backward.

Betsy stumbles—toward the edge.

Dickie sees it.

And something changes.

Not courage.

Calculation.

He lunges, grabs Betsy by the waist, and drives forward—boots skidding, both of them sliding like they’re on ice.

Betsy hooks an arm around Dickie’s neck, trying to guillotine him as they slide.

Dickie keeps driving anyway.

They hit the lip.

Betsy’s eyes flash wide.

She tries to twist out—

Dickie heaves.

With one violent surge, Dickie Watson THROWS Betsy Granger off the stage.

Betsy disappears over the edge—

And the lake explodes.

A massive splash erupts under the floodlights. Water sprays up onto the stage, misting Dickie’s face.

Dickie staggers back from the edge, chest heaving, staring down like he can’t believe he just did it.

JR: OH MY GOD! HE THREW HER OFF!
JC: The lake has taken another.

Betsy surfaces fast—furious—thrashing toward the edge.

She reaches up.

Her fingers touch the stage lip.

The referee is already shouting, arms crossing.

RING OUT!

Betsy is eliminated.

Winner and ADVANCING - Dickie Watson

She pounds the retaining wall in rage as officials reach down to help her out of the water.

Dickie backs away from the edge, soaked in adrenaline, eyes wide, breathing like he just ran a marathon uphill.

No pin.

No submission.

Just the simplest rule in the world:

If you fall… you lose.

JR: That’s it. That’s the match. You can call it cowardly, you can call it smart—he understood the environment and he used it.

JC: It is victory by geography.

Dickie Watson raises one arm—more disbelief than celebration—while the lake churns below and Betsy screams from the waterline, promising revenge through clenched teeth.

JC: And here we are! After seven hellacious matches, we’re down to our final first round March Madness match-up!

JR: And this one ain’t like the others, Jacuinde! This one’s got the big one on the line! The Universal title!

JC: The Trillionaires announced March Madness and explained that, as Kieran King, the current Universal champion, declared himself competing to go for a three-peat… that in every round Kieran was competing in, he would be defending his Universal title!

JR: Absolutely insane! And he drew two of the hungriest opponents to vie for wrestling’s top prize! This one is gonna be insane!

The camera pans over the City of Water[/b\, Venice herself! A beautiful utopian marketplace, beside a bridge without railing on one side... The sky is shining and the city almost feels alive with the buzz of its people!

JC: In its halcyon years during the Renaissance era, Venice monopolized all trade and brought northeastern Italy under its political control.

JR: Hey Jacuinde? Our fans don’t watch the history channel, let’s keep it focused on how hard the surfaces are these guys will be bouncing each other’s head off of.

[b]”Mythmaking has no regulations beyond those imposed by the human mind!”

Civilization is a comfort to those who live comfortably. Battle is a refuge for those who know such illusions can vanish in an instant!

The lights go out. Fire surrounds the stage. The X-Tron flickers to life. A heartbeat monitor flatlines. Beep.

“Antivist” by Bring Me The Horizon blasts throughout the arena. The X-Tron features key moments from his career, namely making people eat finishers and kendo sticks.

MIDDLE FINGERS UP, IF YOU DON’T GIVE A FUCK!

Solomon Kline appears on stage on his blue Harley Davidson motorcycle! Flames rise up all around him. He rides his bike down the ramp and the flames subside, replaced by snow-like pyro raining down from the ceiling. He rides his bike to the center of the city and goes around to each side, raising his middle fingers as the song lyrics denote and encouraging the crowd to join in and sing along with his gesture!
JC: Solomon Kline is back! After being ambushed by, what turned out, was his own family in the Corporation, we weren’t sure Kline would ever step back into the ring after that vicious assault!

JR: But Kline came back stronger! More focused and on a mission for revenge! And lemme tell you something, Jacuinde! If Kline wins the Universal title tonight? He ain’t gonna need to hunt the Corporation down one by one… They’ll line up to try and take that belt, which is exactly what Kline wants! The Corporation within his reach!

JC: It would certainly aid his mission! And it would be an insane way to return to the XWF, winning the Uni in your first match back! But… can he do it?

IF YOU REALLY BELIEVE IN THE WORDS THAT YOU PREACH

GET OFF YOUR SCREENS AND ONTO THE STREETS! THERE WILL BE NO PEACEFUL REVOLUTION!

NO WAR WITHOUT BLOOD!

Solomon ascends a marketstand and looks around the city, taking in the cheers of the crowd before dropping down awaiting the start of the match.

…

Centurion emerges from a building to the city square, receiving a raucous ovation from the Venetians, nodding in thanks as he makes his way to the center of the city.

JC: XWF Legend! TV champion! And one of the most beloved competitors in the XWF… Centurion!

JR: It’s a crock and a sham, Jacuinde! Centurion promised! He SWORE! That after losing to Shawn Warstein, he would NEVER compete for the Universal title again!

JC: The Wheel of Fate has decided to gift Centurion with this opportunity! And you can see it in his eyes… He knows these chances don’t come around for everybody… You can see he’s gonna push himself to his absolute limit to make the most of what might be his last chance for the Universal title!

…

The first, frenetic strums of Faith No More's "Gentle Art of Making Enemies" rips through the city as strobes of gold and white cast across the market and its people. After several moments, and then a few more for good measure, Kieran King eventually saunters onto the stage, smugly mugging for the audience!

JR: There he is, Jacuinde! The TWO-time King of the XWF! The THREE-time Universal champion! The GOAT! Hands down! Kieran King!

JC: Kieran King found a way to recover his Universal championship at Snow Pain, Snow Gain… After Scoops McGee eliminated the Universal champion, Dickie Watson AND Charlie Nickles… it took everything Kieran had… and a kick to the balls… to pull the win out over Scoops! But, he did secure the win! However, this tournament may be the stiffest challenge in XWF History! Four back-to-back rounds of Universal title defenses!

JR: If anyone can do it, though, Jacuinde! It’s the Greatest of All Time! KIERAN KING!

In a flash, he sprints towards the city square, Keeping his momentum going, King darts towards the a stakk and leaps towards the top. He crouches, and throws his arms up and back as if to backflip off the top... only to pull out at the last minute. He laughs at the crowd, mocking them as he settles in to some pre-fight stretches.

…

The bells of Venice toll faintly in the distance as three men stand ankle-to-ankle on slick marble, the canal water lapping just feet away.

No ropes.

No corners.

Just stone… and destiny.

Centurion’s jaw tightens first. His eyes narrow, calculating, measuring distances between bridges, stalls, and canal edges. His shoulders roll as if loosening ancient hinges. He steps forward cautiously, boots scraping stone.

Kieran King smirks in response, rolling his neck lazily, tapping his own temple with two fingers as if to say I’m three moves ahead. He flicks imaginary dust from Centurion’s chest and gestures for him to come on.

Solomon Kline’s nostrils flare.

His fingers twitch at his sides. Youthful impatience. His jaw flexes as he glances from King… to Cent… to the open water behind them. His shoulders dip.

Jacuinde Castillo: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are not in an arena. We are in the City of Water. Falls count anywhere. Ring outs are possible. Knockouts are possible. And if Kieran King is eliminated… we crown a new Universal Champion!”

Joe Rogan: “This is insane. One bad step and you’re swimming with gondolas.”

“In a city built upon fragile foundations, three warriors test the strength of their resolve!”

HIGHLIGHT REEL

The moment the bell rings, Kline explodes first from the starting block!

JC: Kline not wasting this opportunity! The man once known as ‘Psycho’ Solomon, refusing not to control this match from the get-go!

JR: This is Kline’s first Universal title shot in his career! There’s not a world… Or should I say, UNIVERSE, where he’s letting this opportunity slip from not being aggressive enough!

Kline darts between his opponents, sprinting in a tight arc across the cobblestones.

Centurion’s brow lifts in mild surprise, pivoting slower than he once could.

King’s grin fades into irritation as Kline rebounds off a stone railing—

—Dropkick to King’s ribs!

King stumbles back into a wooden mooring post, air forced from his lungs.

JC: Oh! He’s fast! He’s faster than both of them!

JR: Nobody’s faster than Kieran King! Kline just… caught him by surprise is all!

As King staggers backwards, falling to one knee, Kline lands and spins, face intense, and breaks into another sprint!

Centurion braces, feet wide, raising his guard for a dropkick!

Kline leaps —

—Hurricanrana on Centurion!

Centurion flips over and lands hard on the marble, shoulder slamming against the stone.

JC: Wow! Incredible work by Kline, bypassing a veteran like Cent’s guard!

Kline pops to his feet, adrenaline surging, eyes wild. He rushes King, catching him on the back foot!

Repeated kicks in the corner of a stone archway — shin cracking against ribs — again — again — again — until King drops seated against ancient Venetian brick.

Kline backs up, chest heaving, then charges—

—Running knee to King’s jaw against the wall!

King slumps sideways.

JC: I don’t think anyone could have predicted this start! It’s been all Kline in the early-going!

“The cub bares his fangs against seasoned beasts!”

JR: Oh, shuddup, God!
[/b]

Kline turns, fueled by momentum, and grabs Centurion by the scruff of the neck!

Monkey Toss across the cobblestones!

Centurion rolls through, somersaulting a counter to keep his footing, but he is slower rising now.

Kline’s face twists into defiant pride. He throws his arms wide — daring them both to advance!

Centurion exhales slowly through his nose.

The pride in Kline’s posture registers.

As Kline charges again, Centurion sidesteps with veteran economy of motion.

Kline’s eyes widen mid-step—

Centurion snatches the arm.

Armbar attempt — quick and tight.

JC: Oh! And Cent catches Kline!

JR: Kline’s been floating like a butterfly, but Cent’s about to pin him to the wall and rip his wings off!

Kline grimaces, teeth bared, trying to yank free.

Centurion rolls through, transitions—

Saito Suplex!

Kline’s back SLAMS against the cobblestones, the crack echoing off Renaissance facades.

Kline’s face contorts in pain, breath gone.

Centurion, sensing opportunity, hauls him up — jaw clenched now — and hooks him for a back suplex.

Kline pounds at Centurion’s ribs in panic.

Centurion ignores it.

Back Suplex.

Kline is driven spine-first into the uneven Venetian street!

The thud is sickening.

JC: That’s not a mat! That’s stone! That changes everything!

JR: Just like the apron is the hardest part of the ring, the street is the hardest part of the city, Jacuinde!

Kline rolls, clutching his lower back, eyes glassy.

As Cent scoops Kline by the scruff of his neck off the granite walkways of the City’s marketplace…

Kieran King pushes off the wall, wiping blood from the corner of his lip!

JR: Uh oh! I think Kieran’s picking his moment to take out Cent!

King drops his shoulder, looking for a chop block to take out Cent’s calf!

…But Cent, like he’s got eyes in the back of his head, leaps over King’s attack, release Kline in the process!

King keeps himself on his feet, but spins, not giving Cent an opening to strike him from behind in return!

JR: How did Cent see that one coming?

JC: Over two decades in the game and your senses are keen! Finely tuned! Cent’s been pearl harbored so many times, I bet he’d recognize the sound of someone going for a chop block blindfolded and wearing noise-canceling headphones!

Centurion’s feet hit the ground… He glares at Kieran…

Kieran half-smirks cockily…

JC: No love lost between these two competitors! They both represent the old guard of the XWF, many many years in the wrestling world!

[b]But there’s only space for one name in the tales of a battle between two warriors!

They circle.

King feints a kick.

Centurion doesn’t bite.

King lunges — Buzzsaw Kick attempt —

Centurion ducks.

Standing Dropkick from Centurion!

King staggers back toward the canal’s edge, windmilling to avoid falling in!

JR: Wow! That close call makes you realize how precarious this environment is! Could you imagine the UNIVERSAL TITLE changing hands via slip and fall?!?

JC: Imagine it? Joe, we almost just witnessed it!

King’s expression flashes from cocky to alarmed — just briefly.

He steps in again, quicker now, spinning, going for a backfist!

Cent ducks under, grabs Kieran from behind!

Release back suplex!

…

But Kieran lands on his feet! And nimbly leaps backwards the moment his feet touch the ground!

PELE KICK!

Centurion’s head snaps sideways!

JR: Wow! That right there is athleticism! That’s shit you normally only see in video games!

JC: Kieran King is one of the best in XWF History! And March Madness brings a whole other gear out of him!
[/b]

Kieran grabs Cent in a wristlock…

He boots Cent backwards with a kick to the chest… But clings onto his arm!

He pulls him in for a… LARIAT!

…But Cent ducks under! Puts the brakes on, spins around at the same time Kieran does!

V-Trigger Knee!

…But King raises his guard, absorbing it, stumbling but staying upright and on his feet!

Behind them, Solomon Kline pulls himself up using a merchant’s wooden stall.

His face is twisted with pain… but burning with fury.

He climbs.

They both go for a collar and elbow!

Arm drag from King!

Cent rolls through and stays gripped into Kieran’s wrist!

Arm drag from Centurion!

Kieran rolls through and keeps the grip! He yanks Cent forward, looking for a…

Slingblade!

But Cent rotates in a circle, keeping his back from slamming onto the street!

JR: Holy COW! They’re trading counter for counter, move for move! Neither guy giving the other even a fraction of breathing room!

Kieran swings a wild elbow!

Cent ducks! Secures a waist lock!

Going for…

Release German Suplex!

…But King flips out and lands on his feet behind him!

They lock up again.

As Kline balances atop crates of fruit.

His chest rises and falls.

JC: Cent and King are locked in on each other! They don’t see Kline going up top to risk it all!

JR: Never take your eyes off the Psycho!

Kline leaps.

Backflip.

He crashes down onto BOTH men with a crossbody!

All three bodies slam to stone.

The stall collapses behind him.

JR: OH MY GOD!

JC: What a maneuver!

[b]“From the heavens he descends, defying fate itself!”

Kline scrambles, desperation overtaking precision.

JC: Folks, this match is one fall to a finish! Whoever gets the first pinfall or submission, regardless of if the third man is still in it… He’s moving onto the next round!

JR: And will leave with the Universal title!

Kline dives onto Centurion—

Hooks the leg.

ONE!

TWO!

THR-Centurion kicks out!

Kline’s eyes go wide in disbelief.

JC: Kline almost stole it! He almost picked his spot and won the Universal Championship!

JR: Close ain’t do nothing to that belt’s ownership, Jacuinde! Ya gotta get one and two, but nothing matters until the three-count!
[/b]

Kline pulls Cent off the concrete, pulling him into position for Dust to Dust! (Vertebreaker)

But, Kieran King rolls to his knees, rage simmering.

He lunges at Kline.

Kline springs up to meet him.

JC: Uh oh! King, I think for the first time this match, appreciates the unique threat Solomon Kline presents to his chances of three-peating!

Kline and King meet, eagerly trading rapid strikes —

Forearm from Kline! Connects!

Roundhouse attempt from King — dodged!

Ashes to Ashes from Kline — Ducked and slipped under!

King sprints forward, shoves off a nearby wall, and builds speed!

Shotgun Dropkick from King!

Kline skids across marble, somersaulting backwards onto his back…

JR: Ouch! Ain’t nobody getting up from a dropkick like that!

Kline kips up out of pure defiance.

JC: Apparently ain’t nobody else in the world like Solomon Kline!

King charges in, eagerly to put the young buck down!

…But Kline turns sideways… and launches a…

Superkick!

NO! King ducks.

They both spin to face each other!

King steps in! Kline goes for the lock-up!

But Kieran hits him with a Boot to the stomach.

Kline doubles over.

King grabs him around the waist.

Powerbomb lift—

He wants to drive him into the cobblestones.

Kline’s eyes flash with panic — then instinct.

He shifts his weight mid-air.

Hurricanrana!

JC: What a counter by Kline!

King flips forward—

Kline holds the legs tight!

ONE!

TWO—

Kieran King kicks out.

Both men roll away, scrambling to their knees.

The water sloshes against stone just feet away.

King and Kline rise at the same time — eyes locked — chests heaving…

JC: They’re fighting right on the edge of the canal!

Joe Rogan: “One mistake and that’s it — ring out!

Duel at the Edge

King takes a half-step forward, shoulders loose, confidence masking the flicker of caution in his gaze as he glances briefly at the water behind Kline.

Kline sees it.

His nostrils flare.

He steps in first.

King swings a spinning backfist — fast, sharp, meant to rattle teeth loose.

But Kline ducks under it.

His boot fires upward into Kieran’s stomach.

The impact folds King slightly, air forced from his lungs.

Kline doesn’t hesitate, teeth clenched as he hooks King’s arms and pulls him in tight — muscles straining —

JC: Kline’s going for the Dust to Dust! We could have a new Universal champion!

King’s expression flashes from arrogance to alarm.

He drops his weight suddenly.

He tries to counter.

He shifts his hips and attempts a desperate back body drop —

Kline is lifted—

For a split second, he is airborne.

Kline twists mid-air—

He lands on his feet.

But he is inches from the drop.

His heel skids on slick stone.

The water ripples beneath him.

The crowd on distant balconies gasp!

JR: “Ohhhhhh he almost went in!

Kline turns around! Kieran, adrenaline surging, doesn’t give him space.

He pivots—

Superkick!

…

But Kline ducks under!

As King’s leg swings past, Kline circles around! They both turn!

Pop-up forearm smash—

Ashes to Ashes!

The blow cracks against King’s jaw.

King stumbles backward.

He is teetering now.

Arms windmilling slightly.

The canal waits behind him.

JC: Take it, kid! This is your moment!

JR: Is Kieran King getting eliminated in the first round?!?

[b]“The precipice calls! One more breath may decide his fate!”

Kline’s chest rises and falls violently.

He backs up.

His expression is feral.

He’s ready to sprint.

Ready to finish it.

…

But Cent sees his opportunity!

And like the general he is, he chooses the exact moment.

He explodes forward.

Kline’s eyes widen — too late.

Centurion grabs him from behind.

Waist hooked.

Hips turned.

With a guttural roar, Centurion launches—

RELEASE 1000 MILE SLAM!

Kline is hurled like a projectile toward the reeling Kieran King.

JC: Centurion trying to wipe them BOTH out!

JR: Like trying to kill two birds with one stone! …Or, I guess more accurately, a bird with a second bird!

Kline flies through the air toward the Uni champ…

…

At the last possible heartbeat—

Kieran’s survival instinct kicks in.

His eyes go wide.

He dives sideways.

He rolls toward safer stone.

Kline, airborne…

…

Has no such luxury!

His body sails past the space King just vacated—

And over the edge.

There’s a split second of silence.

Then—

SPLASH.

Water erupts upward.

The canal swallows him.

Eliminated: Solomon Kline

Rogan: “HE’S GONE! He’s in the water!”

Castillo: “Solomon Kline has been eliminated by ring out!”

“Cast into the depths! The tide claims one warrior!”

Ripples spread across the canal.

Centurion stands near the edge, chest heaving, eyes locked on the water below.

Kieran King pushes himself up to his knees, soaked hair clinging to his forehead, staring at Centurion.
[/b]

The two remaining competitors circle, noticeably a little slower from the exhausting battle that led to this point!

JC: This has been one of the most hellacious first round battles, Joe!

JR: That’s crazy to remember! This is just the FIRST ROUND! Both these guys are fighting for the chance to fight THREE MORE TIMES!

Kieran — trying to reassert control — swings first with a sharp forearm!

Centurion just eats it, but stays upright!

He fires back with a stiff European uppercut.

Kieran’s head snaps back.

Cent steps in again to follow it!

Bloody Symphony attempt!

Knee rising—

Kieran twists aside at the last moment, the knee grazing his jaw instead of crushing it.

King retaliates immediately, face twisted with spite.

He hooks Cent’s head—...
Ugly on the Outside!

Codebreaker!

JR: Ballgame! That’s gotta do it right there!

Centurion’s jaw snaps downward violently as King lands seated on the stone.

King scrambles over him, hooking the leg.

ONE!

TWO!

THR—Centurion kicks out!

JR: WHAT?!?

JC: Incredible endurance by Centurion! He refuses to let this chance for the XWF’s top prize go while he’s got even a fraction of a breath left in his body!

King grips the sides of his head in disbelief…

His mouth falls open.
King slaps the stone in frustration.

He grabs Cent again, fury overtaking finesse.

He yanks him upright —

Another setup.

Another Ugly on the Outside attempt—

Centurion’s eyes flare.

He shoves King away mid-lift.

Hooks the waist.

Spins through—

1000 MILE SLAM! ONTO THE BARE VENETIAN STREET!

JC: AHHHHHHH! CENT HIT IT! CENT HIT THE 1000 MILE SLAM!

JR: NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

King bounces off stone.

…Cent lays on the street, clutching his stomach!

JC: COVER HIM! COVER HIM, CENT!

Cent takes a breath that visibly hurts at this point and crawls arm over arm, diving onto King!

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEEEEEE-NO!

Kieran kicks out!

Now it’s Centurion’s turn to stare in disbelief!

JC: …MAN. The nearest of nearfalls for Centurion! If he moved just a modicum faster, we might have a new Universal champion!

Centurion’s breathing grows heavier.

But his eyes burn brighter.

He pulls King up again, determination etched across his weathered face.

He positions him—

Another 1000 Mile Slam.

He lifts—

Kieran’s face twists from panic… to calculation.

…Kieran slips behind Cent!

LOW BLOW FROM BEHIND!

[white[JC: Oh come on![/white]

Centurion’s body seizes.

His grip loosens instantly.

Kieran wastes no time.

He hooks Cent’s head again.

Ugly on the Outside!

…

But Centurion plants his feet mid-drop!

He shoves King backward and drops him flat on his back!

Centurion turns over the legs—

FALL OF ROME!

JC: AH! Cent’s got his submission maneuver locked in!

JR: Go for the ropes, Kieran!

JC: They’re fighting in the middle of the City of Water, Joe! There’s no ropes!

JR: SOMEONE INSTALL SOME ROPES! QUICK!

King screams, clawing at the cobblestones.

He twists his torso violently, refusing to submit.

JC: He’s got it locked in! Centurion’s about to win the Universal Championship!

King rolls.

He fights.

He contorts.

His hand shakes…

…

……

AND HE SOMEHOW MANAGES to turn onto his back, breaking the torque!

Cent leans forward to reapply pressure—

King’s thumb shoots upward.

Into Centurion’s eye.

Cent staggers backward instantly, clutching his face.

JC: Another dirty blow by the Universal champ!

JR: Sorry, do you think Kings are crowned by playing fair! VICTORY! By any means necessary!

King scrambles up.

He lunges forward, grabbing a front facelock.

He hoists—

F UR HEAD!

Brainbuster attempt—

But Centurion twists mid-lift.

He lands behind King!

The crowd gasps from distant balconies.

Cent’s face is fierce now.

He hooks the waist—

Going for another 1000 Mile Slam—

King’s eyes flash.

As he’s lifted off the ground… His boots extends!

He drives a vicious kick directly into Cent’s knee!

Centurion collapses to one knee instantly, pain shooting through his face.

JC: Oh C’MON! Attacking that knee that Cent has dealt with injuries to in the past!

Cent’s hand grabs at his knee reflexively.

That half-second is all Kieran needs.

He snatches the front facelock again.

And delivers a snap…

F UR HEAD!

Centurion’s skull and shoulders spike against the stone.

King hooks both legs tightly.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Winner and STILL XWF Universal Champion: Kieran King

February - 24 - 2026

LIVE FROM SCOTIABANK SADDLEDOME

CALGARY, ALBERTA, CANADA

(near Fort Assiniboine - Home of the World’s Largest Wagon Wheel)

LATOYA HIXX - RINGED OUT!

WINNER: ASHER HAYES!

Deena Hixx is eliminated.

Winner and ADVANCING - Jenny Myst

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

Apathy is eliminated.

Winner and ADVANCING - Dickie Watson

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Eliminated: Solomon Kline

Winner and STILL XWF Universal Champion: Kieran King

The bell tolls over the lagoon.

JR: Kieran King survives! He survives Centurion AND Solomon Kline!

JC: That man will do ANYTHING to keep that championship!

[b]“Through cunning and cruelty, the king preserves his crown!”

Centurion lies motionless for a moment, staring up at the Venetian sky.

Kieran rolls onto his back, exhausted… but smirking.[/b]]]> <![CDATA[WARFARE - 2/23]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49826 Tue, 24 Feb 2026 21:44:47 -0800 Liam Desmond]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49826

February - 23 - 2025

LIVE FROM SCOTIABANK SADDLEDOME

CALGARY, ALBERTA, CANADA

(near Fort Assiniboine - Home of the World’s Largest Wagon Wheel)

Reggie Estrada
- vs -
Ennui Clown
Street Fight

Shrine of the Snake God Palagea

ROUND ONE
John Blade
- vs -
Razor Blade
- vs -
Barney Green
Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO

Ling Sheng-Su Temple Ruin

ROUND ONE
Bing Bong Twinz
- vs -
Mister Oz
- vs -
Matthias Syn
Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO

Hall of the Warrior God

ROUND ONE
Sebastian Everett-Bryce
- vs -
Yelena Gorgo
- vs -
Scoops McGee
Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO

Old Toledo - Burning Gallery

ROUND ONE
Samael Dyson ©
- vs -
Isaiah King
- vs -
Micheal Graves
Triple-Threat X-TREME RULES TRIPLE-THREAT
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO
Must pin Samael Dyson for the X-Treme title to change hands

Stage Hazard - FIRE!

As Warfare comes on air, Ennui Clown is lying face down in the ring. He’s not unconscious, just kinda bummed.

JC: Ennui Clown has made quite the name for himself on Anarchy! I'm not sure exactly what *kind* of name he's made, but he's certainly made one!

JR: You know, this Ennui Clown is a badass. He don't give a fuck nor a shit nor a piss bout' nothin'- and that makes him dangerous! More dangerous than his win/loss record would indicate!

JC: And he has a major match coming up against The Kingsguard on Anarchy, so a win tonight could help put some momentum in his sails- not that he'd give a hoot!

We see on the walkway, where the camera pans to the entrance, as soon as the beat drops we see Reggie walking down out to the song. He stares at the crowd, who gives him mix reactions as he walks down to the ring, then he gets to the steel steps, but looks at the crowd some more. Then he climbs up to it, and get into the ring. Camera cuts to various fan signs that either love or hate Reggie, then it cuts to him going on the corner to raise his fist and talk some trash, then he gets down and stand in the ring as his theme cuts off.

JC: The one, the only, the legend himself: REGGIE ESTRADA!

JR: Now if you want to talk about someone who don't give a rat's ass, it's this cholo right here. Reggie Estrada is a certified THUG, and you know what that means.

JC: Actually, I don't! What's that mean?

JR: That means he's coming to Warfare to kick ass, and take names! So that clown had better watch out, cause Reggie will paint his smile upside down!

JC: But Ennui Clown is already wearing a painted-on frown!

JR: Well then...Reggie might just superkick him so hard that it becomes a smile!

JC: Now wouldn't that be something! Ennui Clown smiling for once, what a sight it would be to see! If anyone can do it, it's Reggie Estrada!

Reggie Estrada
- vs -
Ennui Clown
Street Fight

HIGHLIGHT REEL

DING! DING! DING!

Reggie Estrada moves first!

He storms forward like a man who learned to fight in alleys where hesitation gets you killed.

Ennui Clown stands in the center of the ring, shoulders slouched, face paint cracked in dull pastels. His head tilts slightly to the side, as if he’s listening to music no one else can hear. His arms hang limp. His expression is a blank mask of indifference.

Reggie crashes into him!

A forearm smashes across the clown’s jaw. The sound pops sharp and ugly. Ennui’s head snaps sideways, but his body doesn’t resist.

He sways.

Reggie hits him again.

Another forearm. Then another. Then a closed fist. The street fight rules don’t forbid it, and Reggie has never needed permission to throw a punch.

The clown absorbs them like a mannequin bolted upright.

Reggie grabs a fistful of greasy, multicolored hair and yanks Ennui’s head down into a rising knee. The impact lifts the clown’s feet off the canvas for half a heartbeat before he slumps back into place.

The clown has no fire in his eyes.

But Reggie snarls.

He hooks Ennui around the waist and launches him with a vicious overhead belly-to-belly suplex.

The clown flips high, rotating awkwardly, and lands hard on his back. The canvas shudders beneath him.

He lies there.

Blinking at the lights.

But Reggie doesn’t go for a cover.

He rolls out of the ring and immediately begins throwing up the apron skirt, digging underneath like a raccoon in a dumpster.

JC: This is a street fight, the kind of fight that Reggie's always felt most comfortable in- and now, it looks like he wants to invite a few metal friends to the party!

JR: Reggie Estrada in a street fight is like meeting a tiger in it's natural habitat. There's going to be violence, chaos, and blood! A whole lot of blood!

Reggie drags out a steel chair. Then another. Then a dented trash can.

He slides back into the ring with the chair first.

Ennui Clown has managed to sit up.

Not scramble.

Not crawl away.

Just… sit.

Reggie steps forward and swings.

The steel chair slams across the clown’s spine with a metallic crack that echoes through the building. Ennui folds forward, his forehead pressing against the mat.

No scream.

No plea.

Just a slow exhale.

Reggie raises the chair again and brings it down across the back of Ennui’s shoulders. Then across his ribs. Then across his arm when the clown lazily lifts it, not even to block, just to exist in the way.

Reggie tosses the chair aside and grabs the trash can. He jams it down over Ennui’s head and shoulders, trapping him inside the metal cylinder.

Reggie backs up.

Runs.

And boots the trash can with all the fury in his legs!

JC: Reggie Estrada is going for broke already! He's making sure to take full advantage of these street fight rules!

JR: Going for broke? If you ask me, Reggie's just trying to break this clown down!

The clang reverberates like a gunshot. The can caves in around the clown’s skull. Ennui topples sideways, rolling awkwardly across the mat with the can still stuck around his upper body.

Reggie laughs.

It’s not joyful.

It’s not triumphant.

It’s the kind of laugh that comes from someone who finally found something he’s allowed to break.

He grabs the edge of the can and rips it off Ennui’s head. The paint on the clown’s face is smeared now. One eye is ringed darker where the metal pressed into skin.

Ennui blinks slowly.

Reggie kicks him in the face.

A sharp, soccer-style punt.

Ennui rolls to his back.

Reggie drops down and begins hammering fists into the clown’s forehead. Over and over. His knuckles thud against skin. Each punch snaps Ennui’s head slightly into the mat.

The clown’s arms flop uselessly at his sides.

JC: You know, at some point in his XWF career Ennui Clown is going to have to throw a punch! He may be an expert at taking damage, but in order to go very far in this federation, at some point you have to deal damage!

JR: Ennui Clown is no amateur, I think he's just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike!

JC: Is that opportunity going to come in this match?

JR: I guess we'll have to wait and see!

Reggie grabs him by the throat and hauls him upright.

He slaps Ennui hard across the face.

The clown’s head tilts.

Reggie slaps him again.

And again.

Finally, Ennui’s eyes focus on Reggie’s face.

There’s no anger there.

No fear.

Just…ennui.

Reggie’s lip curls.

He hooks Ennui’s arm and whips him violently into the corner turnbuckles. The impact rattles the ring posts. Ennui collapses into the corner, half-sitting, half-slumped.

Reggie charges and drives his shoulder into Ennui’s midsection. Once. Twice. Three times. Each thrust compresses the clown against the turnbuckles.

Ennui’s body folds around the blows, but his expression barely changes.

Reggie backs up and delivers a brutal running boot to Ennui’s face in the corner. The clown’s head snaps back against the turnbuckle pad. His body slumps forward again.

Reggie reaches out, hooks his arms under Ennui’s and drags him up to the top rope.

Not for a high-risk move.

For punishment.

Reggie climbs to the second rope and starts raining down punches into Ennui’s forehead. One. Two. Three. Four—

The clown sways with each strike.

At ten, Reggie shoves Ennui off the top rope.

The clown crashes back-first onto the canvas, rolling onto his side.

Reggie drops down and immediately grabs one of the steel chairs again.

He wedges it between the top and middle turnbuckles in the opposite corner.

Then he stalks back to Ennui, grabs him by the collar of his torn shirt, and drags him across the ring like a sack of laundry.

Reggie pulls him up.

Irish whip!

Ennui stumbles toward the corner.

Reggie follows close behind and drives him face-first into the wedged chair.

The steel explodes loose from the turnbuckles and clatters to the mat as Ennui collapses.

JC: This is starting to look less like a street fight, and more like a good old fashioned assault!

JR: That's Reggie's specialty! His career on the streets started with simple assaults, before it ever elevated into professional wrestling! This is just Reggie Estrada's way of getting back to his latino roots!

Reggie doesn’t pause.

He drags Ennui up again and hooks him for a snap suplex.

But instead of falling backward normally, Reggie shifts mid-motion and drives Ennui down throat-first across the top rope.

The rope vibrates violently as Ennui spills back into the ring, clutching at nothing.

Still no panic.

Still no fight.

Reggie rolls out again and this time he pulls out a wooden kendo stick.

JC: Reggie has another weapon!

JR: I think he has an unlimited supply of them!

He slides back in, twirls it once in his hand, and then cracks it across Ennui’s ribs.

The sound is sharp and splintering.

Ennui jerks slightly from the impact.

Reggie swings again, this time across the clown’s back.

A third time across the thigh.

A fourth across the shoulder.

The stick begins to fray.

Reggie tosses it aside and stomps Ennui’s midsection repeatedly, each stomp landing with grinding force.

Ennui curls slightly under the assault.

But when Reggie steps back and grabs him by the hair again, Ennui’s eyes still carry that same detached haze.

Reggie roars and launches him with a release German suplex.

Ennui flips backward and lands dangerously high on his shoulders before collapsing flat.

Reggie pops to his feet and immediately grabs both of Ennui’s ankles.

He drags him toward the center of the ring, spreads his legs apart—

—and drops an elbow straight into the groin.

Ennui’s body jolts for the first time with something resembling instinct.

But even that fades quickly.

JC: A low blow from Reggie Estrada! That wasn't even necessary in the slightest!

JR: Maybe a good ol' tickle to the taint will help Ennui Clown snap out of his funk!

Reggie rises, breathing heavier now.

He grabs the second steel chair and unfolds it in the middle of the ring.

He pulls Ennui up, positions his head between his legs—

But instead of finishing anything, he hoists the clown up and powerbombs him spine-first onto the open chair.

The metal frame collapses under the impact.

Ennui bounces once and rolls off the wreckage.

Reggie stands over him, chest heaving.

Still no resistance.

Still no rage.

Just that empty stare.

Reggie crouches down close to Ennui’s face.

Ennui blinks.

A faint smile touches his lips.

That does it.

Reggie stands and drags Ennui toward the ropes. He shoves him under the bottom rope and follows him to the outside.

Concrete.

No padding.

Reggie grabs Ennui and whips him hard into the steel barricade. The metal rattles loudly as the clown’s back slams into it.

Reggie charges and crushes him against it with a running forearm.

Then he grabs Ennui by the head and repeatedly smashes his face against the top edge of the barricade.

Once.

Twice.

Three times!

The paint on Ennui’s face smears further as blood begins to spill.

Reggie hooks him for a vertical suplex and drops him spine-first onto the concrete floor.

The thud is sickening.

Ennui lies flat, staring upward at nothing.

Reggie reaches under the ring again.

This time he pulls out a folding table.

JC: And now Reggie's pulling out a table! I don't think Estrada gives a damn about pinning Ennui Clown anymore, he just wants to send a message! A sick, sick message!

JR: That's what THUGZ do, baby!

He sets it up near the ring apron, unfolding it with impatient aggression.

He goes back to Ennui, drags him up, and leans him against the ring post.

Reggie steps back and charges, driving a brutal knee into Ennui’s face, smashing his head against the steel post.

Ennui slumps.

Reggie hoists him up onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

He turns toward the table—

—but before he can move, Ennui lazily slides off his shoulders.

Not countering.

Not escaping.

Just… slipping down.

He stands in front of Reggie again.

Still upright.

Still blank.

Reggie stares at him for a split second.

Then he headbutts him!

Hard!

The crack of skull on skull sends Ennui reeling slightly, a crimson mask now completely covering his painted face.

Reggie grabs him again, lifts him, and this time he powers him through the table with a brutal Samoan drop.

Wood explodes beneath them!

Both men hit hard.

Reggie rolls to his knees first.

Ennui lies in the wreckage.

Arms spread.

Eyes open.

Still conscious.

Still uncaring.

Reggie crawls over and hooks the leg for a cover on the outside.

1!

2!!

KICKOUT!!

Ennui’s shoulder lazily lifts off the concrete.

JC: It appears that Ennui Clown still has some fight left in him!

JR: I'm not sure I'd call it "fight", but that clown is certainly still kicking!

Reggie pounds the floor with his fist in anger!

He grabs Ennui and drags him back into the ring.

He shoves him under the ropes and slides in after him.

Reggie pulls him upright one more time.

Ennui’s knees wobble.

But his eyes…

His eyes are still calm.

Reggie sets him up for another suplex.

This time a brainbuster.

He lifts him high and drives him straight down onto the crown of his head.

Ennui crumples on impact.

Reggie rolls him onto his back.

1!

2!!

KICKOUT!!!

The shoulder lifts again.

Barely.

But it lifts.

Reggie stands slowly.

Something dark settles into his expression.

He reaches down and drags Ennui to his feet one last time.

The clown sways.

His legs barely holding him upright.

But even now—

Even now—

There’s that faint hint of a smile.

Reggie shakes his head.

He kicks Ennui in the gut!

Hooks the head...

Jumps—

And drills him into the mat with a vicious Stone Cold Stunner!

JC: Stona-Duna! Stona-Duna! Reggie just hit this clown with one of the most powerful finishing moves in all of wrestling!

JR: That's it, I'm calling it! There's no way this clown- or anyone, for that matter- is getting up from that!

The impact snaps Ennui’s body horizontal before he crashes flat on his back.

This time—

His eyes roll back.

His limbs go limp.

No sway in his body.

No blink in his eyes.

No detached smile.

Just stillness.

Reggie stares down at him for a long moment.

Then drops into the cover.

1!

2!!

3!!!

Winner: Reggie Estrada

Ennui Clown lays completely lifeless in the ring whilst Reggie Estrada’s arm is raised by the referee. Reggie’s music plays over the PA system whilst his thuggish, ruggish fans cheer him on from the bleachers.

JC: What an impressive showcase from Reggie Estrada! He completely dominated that match, bell to bell! Ennui Clown never stood a chance! I’m not sure if Ennui Clown even touched Reggie!

JR: That’s what THUGZ do, Jackie! They beat down on the innocent, they run through pockets, and they leave nothing but blood in their wake! Reggie Estrada is BACK, baby- and he looked better than ever tonight!

JC: This was a great win for Reggie Estrada, no doubt! He just showed the entire XWF Universe that he ain’t playing when he comes to Warfare- he’s coming for scalps!

JR: And he’s wiping smirks off of faces- no matter how long you spend painting it on!

JC: Well folks…that clown still isn’t moving. We had better get him some medical attention….we’ll be right back! Don’t go anywhere, because this was just our opening bout!

JR: And what a great opener it was! But the night’s far from over…and we still have plenty more clowns in need of ass-whoopings like this!

JC: Folks, it’s that time of year again! March Madness!

JR: Or Ides of March as it was called last year for some reason!

JC: Some of the best names from around the XWF, AND around the wrestling industry at large, will all vie for the rights to call themselves the KING of the XWF!

JR: And don’t forget Jacuinde! The Universal title is on the line! Not just in the Final, but every match that the Universal champion competes in, the winner will take the Universal title with him!

JC: The stakes couldn’t be higher! We’ll see the Universal champion compete tomorrow on Savage (check your local listings!) but advancing in this tournament as the numbers dwindle almost guarantees you a shot for the top prize in all of wrestling!

”Those who survive shall be heralded as champions of battle! Those that fall forgotten!”

…

JR: Sorry, what’d you just say, Jacuinde?

JC: I didn’t say anything, Joe.

…

The camera pans over the long, claustrophobic walkway called Shrine of the Snake God, Palgaea... A razor-thin fighting path suspended over darkness. On one side, a massive statue dedicated in homage to Palgaea, a serpentine deity wielding a large scythe…

On the other side, pure black… A seemingly endless drop.

JC: Deep beneath the shore of the Black Sea, inside the heretical temple of Fygul Cestemus, the three of them will fdo battle! Not in a ring with ropes and turnbuckles — but the narrow, multi-tiered stone platforms of the shrine itself!

JR: Shouldn’t they have caution tape over that big drop? That’s gotta be an OSHA violation, Jacuinde!

”Mythmaking has no regulations beyond those imposed by the human mind!”

JR: …There it is again. Did you hear that, Castillo?

JC: Genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.

…

''Wrestling has more than one... royal family.''

As soon as those words are heard, the crowd inside the Shrine of the Snake God Palgaea erupted as you heard the commentator's reaction as well.

JC: Huge reaction for the November 2025 Star of the Month! The American Nightmare! Razor Blade!

JR: Everywhere Razor goes, he’s beloved! From west coast to east coast to… heretical temples of snake worshippers apparently!.

Smoke emanated from the stage, completely covering as you weren't able to see anything through it and before you knew it, Razor Blade is seen walking through the smoke, a big smile on his face as the crowd erupted even louder at the sight of the American Nightmare.

JC: Razor Blade took a non-traditional route to get to his current rolling momentum, but he’s finally crawling up those ELO ranking charts, Joe!

JR: Not only that, but he’s got a new energy about him! He’s stopped interviewing with Steve Sayors, he’s wielding that Star of the Month accolade like the first of many!

JC: It’s a long road from round one to the finals… Still, one must ask! Could we be crowning King Razor in a few short weeks!?!

''Adrenaline, in my soul
Every thought out of control
Do it all to get them off their feet''

Razor glanced out at the crowd, nodding his head pointing out towards them dressed to the nines in one of his many custom suits as he knelt down, tapping the ramp with his fist, jumping up to his feet as he extended his arms out.

''Crowd is here, about to blow
waitin' for me to start the show
out the curtain, lights go up I'm home
Whoooooooooooooa!''

A burst of pyro went off behind Razor as he brought his arms in before pumping his fist as one final big burst of pyro went off behind him Razor glanced out at the crowd again, that smile remaining on his face as he walked down the ramp, high fiving members of the crowd in the front row before going over and doing the same thing on the other side of the ramp. Razor walked down the rest of ]the ramp, stopping at the end of it as he looked around before walking towards the steel steps. He glanced down at them, before tapping them with his hand as he raised his arms trying to pump up the crowd before walking up the steel steps as he scaled the turnbuckle, looking around before extending his arms as even more pyro went off on the stage. Razor hopped down into the ring.

…

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!

JC: There he is! The “Surgeon of Thug”! The “Chain Gang”! John Blade!

JR: We’ve seen him in Action Wrestling! We’ve seen him in WGWF! Wherever he goes, he gets a reaction! Where he goes, headlines follow! But for the first time in his storied wrestling career, John Blade has come to the XWF!

JC: This certainly isn’t a typical match, wrestling on a thin platform above an unfathomably deep drop! But, ya gotta wonder if a career that’s been as long as John Blade’s gives him some kind of experience advantage. If he can apply some stipulation in his past to this scenario and if that will give him the edge the Surgeon of Thug needs to carve out the win!

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[/align]

…

"Realize" By AC/DC starts to play as the fans start cheering. Out walks Barney Green, dressed in his ring gear. He slowly walks out and waves at the fans.

JC: The LIVING LEGEND! THE GREEN MACHINE! Barney Allison Green! The uncrowned King of X-Treme!

JR: We’ve seen Barney in prior March Madnesses! And while he’s never gone all the way, it’s a constant highlight reel whenever he sees fit to make a comeback!

JC:It’s been, by my count, five years since Barney Green had a shot for the Universal title, when he took on Thaddeus Duke, Saturday Night Savage, January 9th, 2021! Could you imagine Barney Green walking out of March Madness, not ONLY with the King of the XWF crown… But also the Universal championship around his waist!

Green walks down to the platform and steps onto the stage. He waits on the side of the long snaky platform as his music fades.

…

The torches flicker.

The surf rumbles somewhere far above the cavern ceiling.

Three men stand on the thin, unforgiving causeway of the Shrine of the Snake God Palgaea — no ropes, no apron, just stone beneath their boots and oblivion on either side… Razor on the far side, John in the middle, Barney on the opposite end…

Barney Green grins first.

Not a confident grin — a crooked, wild, one-eyed grin that says he doesn’t care where he is. He rolls his neck. Cracks it. Spits to the side.

Razor Blade’s jaw tightens. His eyes flick once toward the drop. He flexes his fingers, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, calculating the narrowness.

John Blade smirks. He spreads his arms to the darkness as if the temple itself were a stadium of screaming children.

JR: Dude… ot feels like it just hit me how insane this is! There’s no ropes. If somebody gets momentum they’re just gone! This environment, you have to forget basically a lifetime of instincts built in the ring!

JCo: March Madness isn’t a traditional tournament, Joe! It’s a test to see who can be the very best without boundaries like a ring or familiar structures to lean on!

Fate intertwines three warriors upon the Chin of Genesis… Only one shall carve his legend into eternity!

JR: …Is… Is that you, God?

Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO

HIGHLIGHT REEL

As the bell rings, Razor and John step cautiously out of their starting blocks… Almost as if testing not only their opponents’ footwork but also the sturdiness of the platform under them!

JC: Razor and John understandably a little cautious to start off! A single misstep can mean you’re outta the biggest tournament in wres-

AIEEEEEEEEEEE!

From the other side of the platform! BarnDawg throws his shoulders forward and ROARS, stampeding straight down the causeway at both men.

JC: Oh my God! Barney Green!

JR: Thank God! I was worried for a sec we weren’t going to see something stupid!

…Razor and John’s eyes widen as Barney charges them!

JC: Oh wow! There’s no width on the sides for Razor and John to sidestep! Barney might have came up with an unbeatable first move!

Barney charges!

…But John Blade standing switches around him!

And Razor slides through Barney’s legs!

Barney charges to the other end of the ramp as the two spin around! And Barney… just starts charging again!

JC: I think we’re seeing Barney’s gameplan in its complete form! He’s just gonna run laps and shoulder block the whole width of the platform until both men get driven off!

JR: So far, no flaws in that plan I can see!

As Barney charges again, Razor’s eyes widen — irritation flashing across his face at being forced backward — and he instinctively sidesteps to avoid getting bulldozed with exacting precision, keeping his footing on the platform!

JC: Razor pulls off another impressive dodge!

JR: But it’s only a matter of time until Barney connects, Jacuinde!

John’s smirk fades into a focused squint. As Barney charges him… He plants his feet!

JC: Oh my God! John Blade is refusing to back down!

JR: The Surgeon of Thug is about to require an operation after Barney runs him over!!

Barney barrels into John looking for a…

SHOULDER BLOCK!

But, John explodes forward with a Lou Thesz Press, tackling Barney backward to the stone!

JR Oh! Blade just drove him down on the stone!

JC: Like an offering to Palgaea herself, Blade has Green upon the rocks! Blade at his throat now!

They crash hard with a loud thump! Barney absorbs it, gritting his teeth, wild hair flaring across his face.

Barney snarls like a wild animal resisting containment! John reels his hand back, looking for a mounted right h-

WHAM! Green drives a brutal throat punch upward!

Intelligent Diversion!

John’s eyes bulge as air leaves his lungs. He staggers upright, clutching his throat.

“Strike true, and sever the breath of destiny!”

*sound of Joe taking his headphones off*

JR: Where is that coming from?!?

JC: Joe, let’s focus up, okay?

Barney pulls himself up to one knee off the platform…

As, with a burst of adrenaline, Razor sprints forward — his face twisted with reckless confidence!

JC: Razor Blade, never one to be outdone by anyone in the category of ‘putting his body on the line in the name of victory’

JR: I think you mean, never to be outdone in the category of ‘taking stupid risks’!

As Barney scampers back up to a vertical base, Razor launches into a dropkick aimed at Barney’s temple!

Barney’s single eye widens in fury — not fear — and he absorbs the blow with a stumble instead of falling.

JR: Barney just ate that dropkick like it was a plate of chicken wings!

Razor, surprised that Green is still standing, pursues Green… Green, conscious to avoid a ringout, rotates himself so his back is to the wall and the Palgaea statue behind him…

JC: Barney, making a calculated move to avoid getting driven off the side of the platform! Wise play!

Razor turns on a dime as Barney pivots! Razor leaps through the air with a…

RUNNING KNEE!

…But Barney catches Razor in mid-air! And spins, RAMMING him against the wall!

Razor’s face flashes pain as his back splatters against the wall!

Barney hauls Razor up by the wrist and, with a guttural roar, snaps him over with a…

RELEASE FOLEYPLEX!

Razor’s back smacks stone. The causeway vibrates, as Razor tumbles across the platform…

But narrowly stops himself from going over the side!

JC: Holy COW! I don’t think we’ve ever seen Barney look this dominant!

John coughs violently, eyes watering — humiliation burning through the pain in his throat.

He sees Barney standing over Razor, grasping at the back of Razor’s head…

He sees the drop behind them.

His jaw sets.

JC: Uh oh! You never want to give your back to the “Surgeon of Thug”!

He pumps his arms once, twice, feeding off invisible cheers, then charges with a…

RUNNING SHOULDER BLOCK!

Barney sees a looming shadow… He spins aro-

WHAM! Blade’s shoulder collides with Barney’s chin!

Razor rolls away, clutching his ribs, his eyes widening as he sees both heavyweights inches from oblivion.

Barney’s heel slips halfway off the ledge.

For the first time — just a flicker — something like awareness crosses his face.

He snarls and drives his head forward, trying to shift the center of his weight back onto the platform…

…

……

His arms go out to his sides!

He stays upright!

[white]JC: Incredible ring awareness by Barney Green! …er, shrine awareness?

Barney sees John ahead of him, Blade exhales shaking his head, in disbelief that didn’t toss out the Green Machine… Machine charges again!

JC: Barney going for another charge!

JR: If the gameplan ain’t broke, why fix it?

Green stampedes ahead… John backsteps toward the wall…

As Barney barrels forward, Blade scoops Barney up off his feet!

JC: What strength by John Blade! Barney is 280 pounds!

John hoists Barney up… and falls backward!

Flapjack against the stone wall behind the platform!

Barney’s skull connects! He staggers back, closer to the edge of the platform…

John barks at Razor, still on the ground…

Razor looks at Green… Then, the wall!

JC: The Blades may not be related, but I think they both recognize they gotta get Barney out for the Blade name to carry onto the next round!

Barney shakes it off, he charges again with a…

LARIAT TO JOHN BLADE!

…

But John ducks! He scoops Green up into the air!

SPIN OUT POWERBOMB!

Barney’s punch drunk but he’s staggering up on jelly legs…

As Razor charges off his feet to the wall…

He leaps off the statue of Palgaea!

JC: Sacrilegious!

And… RAZOR KICK! (Disaster Kick!)

Barney gets driven back!

His feet go off the side!

…

AND HE FALLS!

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

…

JR: I didn’t hear a splat.

JC: There might not be a bottom! IF anyone could survive a fall like that, it’s Barney Green, the King of X-Treme, however, it’s safe to say that Barney Green, for the purposes of this match is…

Eliminated: Barney Green

JC: And then there were two!

A Man Falls But a Legend Rises In His Stead! Who Among the Remainder Shall Don the Role of Victor!

JC:You said it, God!

Razor Blade and John Blade stand alone on the narrow causeway — both men breathing hard, both men now acutely aware that there is no third body to break a fall.

John rolls his shoulders, jaw tight, eyes narrowing at Razor with competitive disdain.

Razor wipes sweat from his brow, nostrils flaring, adrenaline buzzing in his veins. No more chaos. No more Barney. Just him… and the Surgeon of Thug.

JC: It has become a one-on-one contest! And now, gentlemen, precision matters more than ever!

John’s lips curl into a confident half-smirk. He spreads his arms slightly — inviting Razor in — daring him to make this match a test of strength.

Razor’s eyes flash with irritation at the taunt.

He explodes forward like he’s looking to deck John… John raises his guard, ready to block and counterpunch…

But Razor, with precise footing, take John into a sideguard, with a Russian Legsw-

….No! John plants his weight and puts the brakes on it!

John immediately pivots and transitions, hooking Razor’s waist for a Spinebuster!

JC: Oh my! John could be going for the win here, looking to spinebuster Razor off the side of the platform!

Razor’s eyes go wide — panic at the proximity to the edge — and he desperately hammers elbows into John’s temple.

John grimaces — anger flaring — but still powers Razor up, carrying him to the side!

John!

JOHN!

…

John lifts Razor!

…

But, at the last second, Razor shifts his hips mid-air and twists, turning the Spinebuster attempt into a sunset flip!

JC: Pinfalls count! This match remains one fall to a finish!

A snake cultist ref, who’s been here the whole time, drops to count!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-NO!

John kicks out forcefully, sending Razor rolling backward.

JC: Razor almost stole that one!

JR: History does not remember the method of victory! Only the name of the victor!

Back off my turf, Rogan!

JR: …Sorry, God.

Razor and John slowly, exhaustedly, rise up off the mat…

John’s jaw clenches.

He pumps his arms once. Twice.

The invisible crowd roars in his head.

He charges.

Leaping Clothesline!

Razor’s head snaps back violently as he flips to the stone wall side of the platform…

John launches —

Diving Running Bulldog!

Razor’s face smashes into the stone.

John pops to his feet, feeling momentum surge through him now.

He throws his hand up.

“You can’t see me!”

Without hitting any ropes (because there are no ropes) John hits the…

FIVE

KNUCKLES

SHUFFLE!

Razor’s face contorts in fury as John rebounds and drives the running strike down across Razor’s skull.

JC: Vintage John Blade!

John wastes no time — scooping Razor up onto his shoulders.

Death Valley Drop attempt.

Razor’s face flickers with panic — then calculation.

He begins hammering fists down across John’s head.

John staggers.

Razor slips free behind him.

JC: Doesn’t matter how many times you put Razor Blade down! He has the will to survive and the will to win!

Razor’s breathing is ragged now.

His eyes burn with defiance.

He charges forward with a Bulldog — planting John face-first!

John bounces up to a knee, stunned.

Razor sees it.

He sees destiny.

He grabs John by the wrist, spinning him violently inward —

Setting up the Blade Rose.

(Arm trapped. Turn. Momentum building.)

JC: If Razor hits this in the center, it’s over!

JR: Yeah but look where they are, Jacuinde… they’re drifting!

Razor twists his hips, going to sling John down with the rotational cutter variation —

But John’s eyes suddenly sharpen.

Instinct takes over.

Mid-rotation, John widens his base and blocks the turn.

Razor’s face flashes confusion — then fear.

John shifts his grip — powering Razor up across his shoulders in one smooth, explosive motion.

The crowd inside his head is deafening.

JC: COUNTER! COUNTER!

Razor thrashes wildly — realizing too late they are only a step from the edge.

John doesn’t hesitate.

With a roar of raw adrenaline and ego and impact —

He takes one deliberate step sideways —

DEATH!

VALLEY!

DRIVER!

OFF THE SIDE OF THE PLATFORM!

JC: Oh my GOD! WHAT THE FUCK!?!?

JR: …Hey, yeah, never thought about that. What happens if all three men drop off the side?

Both men disappear.

…

……

JC: Uh… I didn’t… I don’t… Sorry, folks. John Blade performed an INSANE finishing move on Razor, driving both his opponent and himself off the side of the platform! I’m… um… getting a lot of voices in my ear as to… uh… how we’ll handle the tournament going forward… An-

JR: Wait! Jacuinde, look!

A hand creeps over the side of the platform! It finds a perch, and a forearm starts to pull back up off the side!

JC: Someone hung onto the side! This match might still have a winner!

JR: But who?!?

“Two destinies descend into the abyss — but only one shall rise from the crucible of ruin!”

…Another arm reaches over… And pulls back onto the platform…

THE SURGEON OF THUG!

Winner and Advancing to the March Madness Quarterfinal: John Blade

JC: My God! He countered the Blade Rose in mid-motion and drove Razor Blade off the shrine itself!

JR: That wasn’t just a Death Valley Drop… that was a Death Valley descent!

John rolls off slowly, clutching his ribs, staring up at the snake-lined ceiling.

He raises a trembling hand.

JC: Love him or hate him, John Blade is advancing to the next round of March Madness!

JC: Folks, if you’re just joining us, before the commercial break, The “Surgeon of Thug” John Blade claimed the first victory in this March Madness tournament and will be advancing to the next round!

JR: But who else will make it to the Elite Eight?!? Who else is going to have a one-in-seven chance of a Universal title match next round!?!

”The Roll of the Dice Rewards Those Who Survive To Toss Them Again!”

JR: Praise be!

The camera pans over Ling Sheng-Su Temple… a haunting bright yellow moon hangs over the sky as a dark fog pans over the broken tiles and barren soil that once housed the grandest temple in mainland China…

JR: Spooky vibes here, Jacuinde!

JC: Quite an understatement, Joe! The release of the Soul Edge, nearly a full continent away, drove the monks of the Ling Sheng-Su Temple insane! They literally tore each other apart with their well-honed combat skills, fighting until their bodies broke and they died crippled and bleeding, their souls rife with fury! This land is infused with abominable energy and the ghosts that haunt these lands bring out the worst of the human soul! What do you say to that, Joe!

…

JR: Spooky!

Their Spirits are Angry! Their Souls Refuse Release Until Blood is Spilled Enough to Sate Their Hunger!

JR: I second what God said.

Da Bing Bong Twinzz bust out that back stage bitch like WTF and perp slash pimp walk to the TEM-PULL. You feel me?

JR: Now, Jacuinde, could you explain to me again why the Bing Bong Twinzz are allowed to enter this tournament together?

JC: “again” implies I ever explained that to you in the first place, Joe! I have no clue why a tag-team is competing in a singles tournament! And frankly, it makes no sense!

What is a twin but a single soul spread across two bodies? Inseparable from birth, inseparable in battle!

…

Oswald stands amidst an indie metal band, watching the ring, looking at the band. Soon a choir is heard as the band begins to play his theme song. He walks towards the lead guitarist, clapping him gently on the back so as to not mess up her playing. Oswald, walks down the road, the bottom of his white cloak dragging along the ground.

JC: A dark horse entrant in the March Madness tournament! Mister Oz! A man who’s been taking on three opponents at a time over on Anarchy!

JR: He called Warfare the B-show, Jacuinde! And once you do that, you better back it up with a win! Oz, through his words, is representing the Thursday Night brand here! And after all that running his mouth, he’s gotta do Anarchy proud!

Once standing at the gate before the temple grounds, he'd leap, launching himself over the gate to show how strong and agile he was to lift such mass with such ease, before de-cloaking himself, placing it in his corner before stretching out his arms in a lower case t and roaring out to the crowd before going and sitting on top of his cloak, awaiting the bell as he mentally plans out the match, as well as how to try and beat his opponent.

…

The opening riff of The hangman's body count by Volbeat starts to play throughout the hills of mainland China as the lights dim. Several red and purple laser lights envelope the stage as Matthias Syn casually walks through the curtain. As he steps onto the stage, he stops and acknowledges the crowd by stretching both arms forward while touching his balled up fists together.

JC: We’ve seen vignettes hinting his return! We even saw him declare for March Madness! But I genuinely cannot believe Matthias Syn is finally back!

JR: The Syn City Saint! Not only did he have a historic 252-day reign as XWF Revolution Champion, he had an incredible run at last year’s March Tournament, all the way to the final four! It took Kieran King, the ultimate winner of the tournament, to take out Syn!

JC: Matthias Syn is a big-match competitor! Something about the opportunity to strike at someone standing above everyone else fuels him! Gives him that extra fire to go for the throat with every strike! And in March Madness, the only way to take out the King is to march through every soldier in between you and him!

JR: The Matthias Syn Revolution may start anew tonight! But will it get derailed by either of his THREE opponents?

After several seconds he begins to nonchalantly walk down the road toward the Temple, not allowing the fans to touch him. He slides over the gate onto the Temple Grounds, jumps to his feet and poses. He takes off his red leather shearling coat, hands it to the temple girl and sits on the gate…

JR: Always nice to see an excited fan get to be ring crew, huh, Jacuinde!

JC: What are you talking about, Joe?

JR: The young lady working the ring! Er, temple grounds, I guess? The one that just took Syn’s jacket!

JC: What girl?

JR: That one! Right th-

Where the girl was standing is vacant. Syn’s jacket sits on the ground.

JR: …Spooky.

The wind howls through the shattered pillars of Ling Sheng-Su Temple Ruin… broken stone underfoot… the cursed aura of Soul Edge humming faintly in the distance.

Matthias Syn’s lips curl into a crooked smirk — arrogance masking the unease in his eyes as he scans the jagged drop-offs surrounding the platform.

Mister Oz tilts his chin skyward, eyes half-lidded, arms slightly outstretched — as if absorbing worship from ghosts long dead.

The Bing Bong Twinzz stand shoulder-to-shoulder, eyes darting, whispering incomprehensible slang to each other, hyping themselves up with frantic hand gestures and bouncing knees.

JC: Triple-threat rules! One fall to a finish! Elimination by pinfall, submission, knockout, or ring out! And there are no ropes here to save anyone!

JR: This place looks like it failed an OSHA inspection in 1592, Jacuinde!

“Upon these sacred stones, destiny tests the unworthy!”

The bell rings.

[Image: mm-trio-bing-little-money-syn.png]

Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Syn’s brow furrows — calculating — and he circles lightly on the balls of his feet, testing traction against the cracked marble.

Oz’s expression shifts to mild irritation — offended that no one kneels — and he steps forward with a deliberate, heavy stomp.

The Twinzz exchange a glance.

Their eyes widen.

A synchronized nod.

They suddenly shriek something unintelligible and sprint forward together — arms windmilling wildly!

JC: And here come the Twinzz using their numbers advantage!

JR: Who could have seen this one coming?!?

JC: Almost anyone, Joe!

Syn’s smirk vanishes — annoyance flashing — and he backsteps.

Oz’s jaw tightens — insulted — and he squares up.

The Twinzz crash into Oz first, one hammering forearms wildly against his ribs while the other jumps onto his back in a sloppy sleeper attempt.

Oz’s eyes flare with anger — teeth grinding — and he staggers forward two steps under the unexpected weight.

JR: They’re swarming him like caffeinated raccoons!

JC: I… no, yeah, that’s actually a perfect simile to describe their offensive style!

Oz roars, grabbing MC C-Munqqquee BathZaltz by the waistband, flinging him forward with brute force, before his hands skitter up to try and rip Lil' Ca$h-App Dolla Billyunnai$$e from off his back!

C-Munqqquee gets driven forward into the gate… But he kicks off it and goes for a sliding kick to Oz’s heel!

Oz starts to drop!

JC: Timber!

And Lil' Ca$h-App falls into an Edge-u-Cator!

Both Twinzz leap into position, going to pin the fallen Oz!

JR: Remember this is one fall to a fin-

KICKOUT!

JR: …Didn’t even make it to one!

JC: As my broadcasting partner was saying, this match is one fall to a finish! While you CAN eliminate an opponent by KO or Ring Out, once someone taps out or gets pinned, whoever obtained that submission or pinfall IS the victor! And WILL be advancing to the next round!

As Oz attempts to rise to his feet, the Twinzz attempt to chop him back down to size with kicks to the calves and thighs!

JR: You weren’t kidding with that timber line, Jacuinde! The Bing Bongz are out here trying to chip at Oz’s legs like a redwood, one little swing at a time!

Syn creeps up from behind, stalking the hyenas attempting to pick apart the apex predator…

JC: Syn looks like he’s choosing his moment here! Remember, he and Oz are old allies from back at WarGames 2024!

JR: And they were both members of the Corporation under Charlie Nickles!

JC: …Are still?

JR: Unclear, Jacuinde!

Oz finally FORCES his way back up right! And lifts both Twinzz off the tiles of the temple grounds by their throats!

JC: Uh oh! It looks like Oz is about to give the Twinzz a very late-term abortion!

Oz howls at the Twinzz in his hands…

But as he does, Syn’s eyes narrow opportunistically!

He darts in, leaping off Oz’s knee with a sharp…

Step-Up Enzuigiri!

CRACK!

Oz’s head snaps sideways!

JC: It looks like this match is NOT going to be a friendly reunion between members of The Institute!

Oz drops once more to one knee… But furiously shoves himself upright again! His face hardens — humiliation burning — and he turns slowly toward Syn.

The Twinzz, sensing opportunity, leap together —

One lands a sloppy dropkick to Oz’s thigh while the other wildly clubs his shoulders.

Oz stumbles back.

For the first time — genuine frustration crosses his divine expression.

JC: The Twinzz are actually… irritating him!

The Twinzz are pulling Oz into a tandem front-facelock!

JC: The Twinzz… can they even lift Oz together?!?

The Twinzz GIVE IT THEIR ALL!

…

HOIST!

…

Oz isn’t lifted even an inch!

JR: These two gotta get on that paleo, yo! They’re two scarecrows!

Oz exhales sharply and impatiently through his nose.

His eyes go cold.

He suddenly lunges forward, grabbing one Twin by the throat and the other by the waistband —

With a snarl of offended divinity, he hoists both simultaneously —

Spins —

And DRIVES them both down across his knee!

DOUBLE A SPINEBUSTER-TO-BACKBREAKER HYBRID!

JC: Holy FUCK! JESUS! I heard that crack from here, Joe!

JR: That was… wow, I’ve never heard a spine break with an ECHO! The acoustics at this temple ground are amazing!

“Two voices silenced by the wrath of false divinity!”

Both spines bend sickeningly across Oz’s thigh.

The Twinzz’ faces go slack.

Their limbs go limp.

They slump motionless to the stone.

JR: Oh my GOD! He just folded them like lawn chairs!

JC: That may be a double knockout!

A cultist referee checks both.

No response.

Eliminated by KO: The Bing Bong Twinzz

Oz stands tall, chest heaving, eyes blazing with vindication.

Syn watches from several feet away — expression unreadable — but a slow grin creeps across his face.

JC: And just like that, we are down to one-on-one!

The wind picks up.

Loose tiles skitter across the stone.

Oz rolls his shoulders — resetting — gaze locking onto Syn with simmering contempt.

Syn’s eyes flicker with defiance — chin tilted upward — daring Oz to strike first.

JC: Syn had some… choice words for Oz! That’s gotta really piss off Oz!

JR: Two points, Jacuinde! One, Syn would have harsh words for Mother Theresa and Mister Rogers! That guy ain’t like anybody! Two, Oz would get pissed off… at Mother Theresa and Mister Rogers! These two are already dynamite and a lit match! The words leading up to this showdown just put the explosive components that much closer together!

Oz explodes forward, charging with a head of steam!

Syn’s eyes widen — survival instinct igniting…

Oz goes for a…

STRIKING SPEAR!

…

But Syn sidesteps at the last possible second!

Oz crashes shoulder-first into a fractured pillar.

Stone splinters.

Oz growls — anger rising — and spins back around.

Syn rushes in with a Flying Leg Lariat —

CRACK!

Oz stumbles but doesn’t fall, landing backwards against the pillar!

Oz’s face twists — insulted — and he fires back with a thunderous Big Boot!

…

Once more, Syn barely ducks — feeling the wind of it brush his hair — and responds with a German Suplex attempt!

…

Nope! Oz tucks his leg around Syn’s calf to block it!

JC: Great block by Oz!

JR: But it’s a sign that Syn’s got a little more oomph than those Bing Bongs that Oz had to block it all!

As Syn continues to try and muscle Oz off his feet, Oz’s eyes flare — disbelief — and he throws heavy elbows backward into Syn’s temple!

Syn releases the waistlock!

Oz pivots and catches Syn mid-motion in a single clean and jerk!

GORILLA PRESS GUTBUSTER!

Syn’s body folds across Oz’s knee before crashing to stone.

Syn gasps — air gone — eyes blinking rapidly to refocus!

JC: Oh my! This is Oz’s first Warfare in many years according to him! Could he be headed toward the next round of March Madness!?!

Oz stalks forward… Syn cradles his ribs, breathing heavily, face seething in pain…

Oz kneels, circle-strafing around Syn as Syn slowly works his way back to a vertical base…

His face softens into something disturbingly paternal.

He spreads his fingers.

JC: He’s going for it!

Syn slowly turns around…

“I Failed You.”

WHAM!

The Mandible Claw drives into Syn’s mouth!

Syn’s eyes go wide — shock and rage colliding.

Oz presses down.

JC: Oz has it! Oz has it locked in!

JR: If Syn passes out, Oz will be moving on to the next round of March Madness!

Syn’s face reddens.

His arms flail.

Oz leans his weight forward — expression serene now — believing victory inevitable.

Then—

Syn’s eyes change.

The panic disappears.

They go feral.

His jaw clamps down.

Hard.

Oz’s eyes explode with pain.

He howls — jerking his hand free instinctively.

Blood beads at his knuckles.

JR: HE BIT HIM! HE BIT OZ!

Oz stumbles back clutching his hand — fury overriding composure.

Syn rises instantly.

He grabs Oz by the wrist.

Spins inward.

Hooks the head.

Twists with violent precision—

SYNTHESIS!

(Backside Driver into snapping rotational impact!)

Oz’s skull slams against the stone.

The entire platform shudders.

Syn, breathing heavily, hooks both legs tightly.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Winner and Advancing to the March Madness Quarterfinal: Matthias Syn

JC: Matthias Syn just turned divine punishment into calculated anarchy! One of the most celebrated Revolution champions in XWF History just started the Matthias Syn Revolution anew tonight!

JR: Oz made the oldest mistake in the book! You can’t Mandible Claw a guy who’s willing to bite you like a rabid dog, man!

“The self-proclaimed god falls… and chaos claims the temple.”

Syn rises slowly.

Blood at the corner of his mouth.

He looks down at Oz — not with relief — but with smug satisfaction.

He spreads his arms to the cursed sky.

As the feed fades to commercial.

JC: Folks, I hope you’re strapped to your seats right about now, because we’ve got a barn-burner of a tournament match that’s about to take place!

JR: You wanna talk about how exciting these matches can be, Jack? This match could damn well main event a Pay-Per-View by itself!

JC: And you couldn’t ask for a better spot for this to take place in!

The Hall of the Warrior God.

The great wooden gate opens to reveal the antiquated shrine, with vases and weapons lining the side of the walkway. Past the weapons along the walkway lies an endless chasm, the same as there is past the balcony overlooking the cliff the shrine is on.

What dominates the shrine itself, however, is the statue of the great Eastern dragon, its body contorting as it stares out across the room.

But just a little ways from the balcony is a series of raised fan bleachers, the lot of them screaming their heads off now that they realize they’re live and on the air. Even as the sun is setting, nothing is stopping them from enjoying themselves.

And they’re only about to get louder.

The fires lining the walkway towards the shrine dim in time with the sirens and beat to the opening of Sweatpants (BattleTapes Remix) by Childish Gambino, the fires then beginning to flash, alternating left and right onto the shrine.

In lieu of there being no Xtron present, the fans shout out the familiar blurbs that pop up around this time.

“S! E! B! EMPIRE!”

"She askin' “Why you say that?!”

"Rich kid asshole, paint me as a villain"

Sebastian Everett-Bryce flings his arms wide, staring up with his head covered by the hood of his jacket. He stands in the middle of the stairway, the fires heating up beside him, before looking out at the crowd. He wears a long jacket with the hood pulled up over his head, 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’s in black and white and appears to be cracked and broken. His tights are short, with the initials SEB emblazoned upon the front.

The lights lift, and SEB makes his way to the shrine, stretching his neck from side to side as he walks, his eyes focused on the great gate. He climbs up the steps and steps through the gate before standing in the middle of the shrine.

JC: You have to imagine that SEB is one of the heavy favorites in this tournament, Joe. He’s coming off one of his hardest-fought wins at Snow Pain, Snow Gain, and he’s just itching to get some singles glory going again.

JR: He shouldn’t forget that he’s still a tag champ, though. He’s got a lot riding for that right now, and he could get some huge momentum for his partner too who’ll be on right after this.

JC: Many teams rising up in the XWF right now, but only one can wear the gold, and this Exiled Emperor is one-half of that duo!

"I'm winnin', yeah, yeah, I'm winnin' (What?)
Rich kid, asshole, paint me as a villain"

He extends his arms once more before pulling back his hood and removing his jacket to reveal the back of his tights which read “S.E.B.”

"Don't be mad cause I'm doing me better than you doing you
Better than you doing you, fuck it, what you gon' do? (What?!)"

He flashes his arms out to a side, a satisfied and somewhat sneery grin upon his face, he holds the position for a moment, to allow the crowd to take pictures, before moving towards his corner.

Inexplicably, however, despite the fact that there’s still light outside, the entire place suddenly feels darker than it has before.

Silence hangs in the dead air—a held breath—before the world DETONATES.

♫ YOUR HEART ♫

♫ IS A HOLE ♫

The lights lining the walkway up the shrine begin to shudder and flicker endlessly, producing a disorienting, epileptic stutter. The shrieking song echoes out in rapid bursts.

♫ I CAN SEE FOR MILES AND MILES! ♫

♫ BEYOND THE BLACK RAINBOW! ♫

Color-tinted haze bleeds out across the stairway. The camera sweeps the crowd, catching the frenetic energy. Inexplicably, the area feels like it’s only getting darker. The music builds, grinding upward.

♫ EX-IT! ♫

The fire turns crimson. Through the thick haze, a silhouette stands motionless. Head down. Shoulders rigid.

The lens pushes in aggressively. She lifts her head.

YELENA GORGO. She wears a nightmare grin—arrogant, cruel, and sexy. Intricate blonde braids pull tight against her scalp, gleaming under the red light, woven with crimson thread that looks like fresh sutures.

♫ INSIDE THE MIDNIGHT YOU'VE BEEN SLITH-ER-ING ♫

♫ YOU FORM THE COLUMN'S … DE-FIC-IEN-CY ♫

Yelena breaks her stance. She doesn't walk; she PROWLS. A confident, hip-swaying swagger that radiates pure, unadulterated narcissism. She locks eyes with the camera lens, acknowledging her own dominance.

JC: I gotta say, Joe. I never thought we’d ever see Yelena Gorgo in an XWF environment ever again.

JR: She’s the kind of girl you hear nightmares about, Jack. And based on what I’ve heard of her, she’s looking like she’s got a lot clearer of a head again.

JC: And a Gorgo that’s in control of herself could spell doom for the entire rest of the roster… if she can get past this threat tonight.

♫ I LATCH ON TO YOU … WE … RE-PRESS-UR-IZE ♫

♫ IN-FRA-RED … PAR-A-DISE ♫

The bass drops out. A suspended moment of tension. Yelena stops dead. She stares at nothing, eyes wide, that grin horrifyingly fixed.

The beat DROPS.

♫ UPWARDS! FEEL THE PRE-SSURE! ♫

♫ ABSCESS! HEART IS A HOLE! ♫

A fist slams to her chest—perfectly timed to the percussion—as she mouths the scream.

Desperate hands reach over the balcony railing during the approach to the shrine, but they are ignored. The camera angle drops low, transforming her into a giant against the lights, her focus locked entirely on the shrine.

♫ DISSOLVE! DISPLACE! REJOICE! REPEAT! ♫

♫ NO PRESSURE HERE! ADMIT DEFEAT! ♫

Yelena saunters inside of the shrine, her gaze sweeping across like a predator surveying the night’s menu.

She explodes to her feet in the center of the shrine. Arms thrown wide. Chest heaving. She screams the lyric to the ceiling:

♫ BEYOND THE BLACK RAINBOW! ♫

A scream tears from her throat, directed straight at the ceiling. In one fluid motion, she spins, hooks the row of weapons, and leans back over it—hanging upside down—staring backward at the crowd with that frozen, beautiful, PSYCHOPATHIC grin.

Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO

The three competitors share glances with each other, impatiently circling around the shrine as they feel each other out. There’s a tension in the air, thick enough to choke each of these fighters as they wait for someone to make the first move.

JC: It’s precarious in there right now, Joe. They know the minute they make a mistake, the other two are going to snap at them like sharks.

JR: That’s the price you have to pay, Jack. It’s a big-fight feel with big-fight stakes on the line here. None of these people are gonna wanna get tossed from this tournament early.

Scoops snaps his glare to SEB as he EXPLODES out of his corner! He quickly pounces on him, wailing on him with rights and lefts to the sternum as SEB has to try to cover up!

Scoops goes for an overhand right to the skull - CAUGHT BY SEB! SEB parries the blow, lines his mark, looks for a roundhouse in retaliation - DUCKED BY SCOOPS! Scoops shoots in for a double-leg - SEB trying to drop his hips to guard against it!

JC: Well we know that Scoops and SEB aren’t wasting any time going at it here! It’s just like it’s a continuation of their fight in October! Or how they were going at it inside of Santa’s Workshop in December! It’s a fight on our hands right now!

JR: But if you look to your left right about now…

Yelena Gorgo does not enter the fray. She simply watches. Waits. Observing her prey as they relentlessly batter each other.

SEB realizes Gorgo is waiting while fresh right now! Scoops lunges in towards SEB with another right hand, but SEB ducks the blow as he lunges at Gorgo with a running dropkick!

Gorgo gets staggered by the blow, but she does not fall! SEB quickly pulls himself back up-

BUT GORGO CLOBBERS HIM IN THE SKULL WITH A RUNNING KNEE WHILE HE’S ON ALL FOURS!

JC: NASTY knee strike from Gorgo there! She and SEB are similar, their legs are like weapons of mass destruction!

JR: She’s just as fast as she is dangerous! You can tell she’s been itching to get back into the ring here!

SEB takes a moment to shake out the cobwebs, which leaves Gorgo and Scoops staring daggers at each other. The two circle each other again, slowly closing in as they do so.

Both fighters stretch out a hand, the other taking it as they don’t even flinch in their test of strength. They push against each other, a battle of will taking place.

JR: Gorgo’s got the slight size advantage, and a helluva lot more power behind her frame. She could toss Scoops around like a rag doll if she wanted to.

JC: That may be true, but Scoops has that bulldog tenacity in him. He’s gonna push and fight back as long as there’s breath in his body.

There’s a stalemate between the two, neither one giving an inch as Scoops winds up-

GORGO SNAPS A KICK RIGHT TO SCOOPS’ RIBS!

Scoops winces, but he’s still not giving up- ANOTHER KICK! A SECOND! A THIRD! The gnarly kicks echo around the entire shrine as the audience collectively winces!

Scoops hunches over, letting Gorgo lunge forward! SHE THROWS HIM OVER HER HIP WITH A HARAI-GOSHI!

JC: Folks, if you know anything about Gorgo, she’s just as deadly with her throws as she is with her kicks! She calls her judo throws ‘Ippon’ - one point!

JR: You think if she hits three Ippons in a row, that counts as a three count in her eyes?

JC: Maybe if we see it happen, we might get an answer…

Gorgo quickly hooks the leg to cover Scoops!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

JC: Scoops still has plenty of fight left in him, Gorgo can’t be thinking she’s going to dispose of him quickly.

JR: But even kicking out of a strong body like Gorgo’s pinning you is gonna take some fight outta your body, Jack. If she keeps that up, Scoops is gonna be right where he wants her.

Gorgo barely acknowledges the kickout, bringing herself back onto her feet. She’s prepared to continue the assault-

BUT SEBASTIAN EVERETT-BRYCE RUNS RIGHT IN! HE DARTS PAST GORGO - WAIST LOCK!

GERMAN!

SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPLEX!

GORGO GETS DROPPED RIGHT ON HER HEAD AS SEBASTIAN ROARS BACK ON HIS FEET!

JR: Sebastian playing up to that ‘Star of Stage and Screen’ nickname, isn’t he?

JC: For all of Sebastian’s accomplishments - and he is quite accomplished - he’s got buckets of charisma to back it up! Just listen to this crowd cheer for him!

“SEB! SEB! SEB! SEB! SEB!”

Sebastian nods along with the audience’s support, quickly bringing Gorgo right back onto her feet. He grabs the wrist, tightly wrenching it now, before he throws a body kick of his own!

Gorgo grits her teeth, sucking in air through the pain, but she shakes her head no towards the kick!

But Sebastian quickly responds by dropping an elbow right on Gorgo’s wrenched arm, applying more pressure as Gorgo drops to a knee!

JC: Sebastian working the arm here to pretty good effect. We know he likes controlling the limbs, and that can be huge in a match like this.

JR: Gotta wonder if he should be targeting the legs instead, though. Considering the nature of Gorgo’s kicks and the fact that Sebastian’s Kings Road submission focuses on that leg…

JC: You take out Gorgo’s arms, though, that’s going to impact her ability to throw you around. In fact, softening up the shoulder in particular is going to help for if Sebastian can lock in the Emperor Lock.

Sebastian looks to control the elbow now, looking to cinch in a tight hammerlock now! But Gorgo rises to her feet before Sebastian can do so, and she DRIVES her shoulder right into his sternum!

That creates a moment of separation between the two as Gorgo gets onto her feet, sizes up Sebastian, and - CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

A HEAVY ROUNDHOUSE LANDS RIGHT ON SEB’S CHEST!

BUT

HE

DOES

NOT

GO

DOWN!

SEB STANDS HIS GROUND, HUFFING FROM THE IMPACT AS HE GLARES AT GORGO!

AND HE LANDS A ROUNDHOUSE OF HIS OWN RIGHT TO GORGO’S CHEST!

GORGO STAGGERS BACK FROM THE BLOW! BUT HER EYES LIGHT UP AS SHE COMES BACK!

KICK TO SEBASTIAN!

SEB’S CHEST LIGHTS UP A BEET RED AS HE GRITS HIS TEETH!

KICK TO GORGO!

GORGO WOBBLES FROM THE IMPACT AS SHE QUICKLY RIGHTS HERSELF!

KICK TO SEBASTIAN!

KICK TO GORGO!

KICK!

KICK!

KICK!

KICK!

KICK!

KICK!

KICK!

KICK!

KICK!

KICK!

JC: Folks, you can hear these kicks echoing from a mile away!

JR: They’re like mortars, Jack! They’re just standing and beating the Hell out of each other!

JC: AND THESE FANS ARE LOVING IT!

KICK! KICK! KICK! KICK! KICK! KICK! KICK! KICK! KICK! KICK! KICK! KICK! KICK! KICK!

SEB AND GORGO BOTH STUMBLE BACKWARDS! BUT THEY HAVE THE SAME IDEA AS THEY AIM FOR EACH OTHER’S SKULLS!

DOUBLE ROUNDHOUSE KICK!

BUT THEY BOTH COLLIDE AGAINST EACH OTHER’S SHINS!

BOTH FIGHTERS STUMBLE BACK AS-

SCOOPS MCGEE RUSHES IN WITH A DOUBLE LARIAT TO TAKE BOTH FIGHTERS DOWN!

JC: Scoops came in there like a freight train just now!

JR: I’ll give credit where it’s due, he picked one hell of a moment to make his presence known!

SCOOPS LOOKS AT SEB! HE GRABS HIM BY THE ANKLE AS HE TRIES TO SQUIRM!

BUT HE CAN’T GET OUT IN TIME AS SCOOPS STARTS TO LOCK IN A SPINNING TOE HOLD!

JC: Scoops calls that the Merry-Go-Round! That was one of his dedicated finishers back in the 80s, and it’s still seeing some damn good use!

JR: There’s the leg work, but Sebastian is trying to hold on!

SCOOPS CONTINUES TO WRENCH IN THE MERRY-GO-ROUND!

SEBASTIAN PUNCHES SCOOPS IN THE FACE AS HE WHEELS AROUND!

BUT SCOOPS JUST TELLS HIM TO PUNCH HARDER BEFORE HE CIRCLES AROUND AGAIN!

SEBASTIAN IS WRITHING IN AGONY!

BUT HE MANAGES TO TUG HIS LEG IN! SCOOPS STUMBLES FORWARD!

SEBASTIAN WITH A SMALL PACKAGE!

ONE!

TWO!

YELENA GORGO BREAKS UP THE PIN!

JC: Sebastian had that one almost snagged!

JR: Gorgo quick to save this match though! It only turns into a one-on-one if you knock your opponent out or ring them out first! If there’s a pin or submission, that’s it, match is over!

Sebastian rolls on his side from exhaustion, and it finally feels like there’s a break in the match for all three competitors to catch their breath!

The fans are already on their feet, whooping and hollering over the explosive action they’ve seen so far!

Scoops is the first to make it back to his feet, and he has his sights set on Yelena-

SHE CATCHES HIS ARM THOUGH! ARMBAR ATTEMPT COMING IN!

JC: Gorgo playing possum there! Scoops in big trouble as he’s trying to find it!

JR: Look at the way she’s coiling around her body! It’s freakish! Like she’s a viper!

Scoops has his fingers locked together tight! Gorgo is yanking with the force of a gorilla, but she can’t break his grip!

Scoops grits his teeth and HOISTS Gorgo up just a few feet! Before he SLAMS her right to the ground!

But this time it’s Gorgo who shows off her own tenacity as she keeps herself in position!

AND SHE GRABS ONTO SCOOPS’ THUMB AND TUGS!

SCOOPS’ FACE TURNS BONE WHITE AS HE HOLLERS! THE GRIP IS BROKEN AS GORGO CINCHES IN THE ARMBAR!

JC: I… I think Gorgo just broke Scoops’ thumb!

JR: We got submissions everywhere, Jack! But I think Gorgo just committed the most lasting damage of the match!

Scoops still is trying not to give in! He shakes his head no towards any notion of tapping out!

He tries to twist his body upwards! He’s trying to counter the armbar into a pin!

But Gorgo responds by moving one of her feet to kick Scoops in the skull!

Again!

Again!

Again!

Again!

Scoops tumbles back to the ground, eyes dazed as Gorgo continues to keep the hold locked in!

JC: Oh no…

JR: Oh shit!

The fans pop like crazy as they see what’s happening just outside of the camera’s view!

JC: LOOK OUT!

SEBASTIAN EVERETT-BRYCE COMES IN WITH A MOONSAULT RIGHT OFF THE GIANT DRAGON STATUE!

HE LANDS RIGHT ON GORGO, CAUSING HER TO BREAK UP THE ARMBAR WHILE ALSO HITTING SCOOPS!

JR: SEB just decimated the competition!

JC: He might have even done more than that! That was Scoops’ left arm that’s been damaged by them both! And folks, if you don’t know, that’s his deadly arm, the one that can knock opponents silly with his patented Cattle Prod!

SEB HOOKS GORGO’S LEG FOR THE PIN!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

SEB silently curses as he gets off of the pin, before looking towards the injured Scoops who’s stuck on all fours right now.

He grabs the injured arm, stretching it out before he drops a knee right on the shoulder! Scoops howls in pain as he quickly tries to roll away from SEB!

SEB isn’t having it though! He pulls Scoops right back to his feet, taking his back now! He hooks one arm around the injured shoulder and the other arm around his waist!

HALF-AND-HALF SUPLEX-

SCOOPS DRIVES AN ELBOW INTO SEB’S RIBS! ANOTHER QUICKLY COMES!

SCOOPS COUNTERS OUT WITH A SLICK SNAPMARE!

Scoops staggers back to his feet - ONLY TO EAT A STIFF DROPKICK FROM SEBASTIAN!

JR: Scoops is taking an awful beating right now from both these guys!

JC: Gotta give it to him, though! He’s still getting back up!

Scoops is slow to still move, but Sebastian isn’t waiting! He moves in -

Only to see Gorgo is right back on her feet!

Sebastian lunges for her! But Gorgo is quicker-

SNAP DRAGON SUPLEX TO SEB!

GORGO MAINTAINS CONTROL OF THE ARMS AS SHE PICKS HERSELF AND SEB BACK UP! LOOKING FOR A SECOND DRAGON SUPLEX!

SEB STOMPS ON GORGO’S FEET AS HARD AS HE CAN! THAT ALLOWS HIM TO SLIP OUT! SEB TURNS AROUND NOW!

BELLY-TO-BELLY SUPLEX TO GORGO!

SEB DRAGS GORGO BACK TO HER FEET- BUT NOW IT’S GORGO’S TIME TO RESPOND!

A KATA GURUMA WIPES HIM OUT!

JC: That’s another Ippon from Gorgo! Two points for her now!

JR: Gotta give it to Gorgo, she’s more than holding her own out here!

SEB quickly rolls over onto his belly to avoid a pin, but Gorgo won’t let him escape! She boots him right in the head before picking him up! She’s looking right towards the balcony on the other side of the shrine!

JC: This could be bad for SEB! Gorgo’s going to try to ring him out, surely!

JR: Smart thinking! If she can get SEB out, all she’s gotta worry about is a one-armed Scoops!

Gorgo throws SEB across with an Irish Whip and runs right after him!

BUT SEB COMES TO LIFE!

HE HOPS RIGHT OFF THE DOORS OF THE GREAT GATE-

TORNADO DDT TO GORGO TAKES HER OUT!

AND

SEB

KIPS

UP

TO

HIS

FEET!

JC: We’re being reminded of an ever-present rule in this company, Joe! Never count out Sebastian Everett-Bryce!

JR: He’s gotta try to capitalize on this, though!

Sebastian sets himself up for a running start as he looks towards Gorgo! He’s trying to get a running start ready as he waits for her to get back up onto her feet!

SCOOPS PICKS SEB UP FROM BEHIND AND ROCKS HIM WITH AN ATOMIC DROP!

SEB STAGGERS FORWARD INTO A MEATY HEADBUTT FROM GORGO THAT ROCKS HIM!

BUT SCOOPS TACKLES GORGO WITH A LOU THESZ PRESS!

GROUND AND POUND PUNCHES COME RAINING DOWN ON GORGO!

BUT GORGO FLIPS SCOOPS ONTO HER BACK AS HE PULLS GUARD! AND NOW IT’S HER TURN TO THROW SOME HEAVY HAMMERFISTS!

ONE CLOBBERS SCOOPS RIGHT ON HIS CHIN AS HE HAS TO KICK GORGO OFF OF HIM!

GORGO LINES HER TARGET AS SCOOPS PICKS HIMSELF UP-

KICKDEMON!

IS DUCKED!

GORGO FUMBLES AROUND AS SCOOPS TAKES HER BY THE WRIST AND PULLS HER IN FAST!

CATTLE PROOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!

JC: These two are throwing their hardest hitting moves at each other right now!

JR: I think Scoops is gonna need way more, though! Look!

GORGO

HAS

NOT

FALLEN!

BUT SCOOPS IS WINCING AS HE REALIZES HOW BAD HITTING THAT CATTLE PROD HURT!

BUT HE STRAIGHTENS HIMSELF!

HE TRIES TO FINISH THIS!

AS HE GOES IN

FOR ONE MORE

CATTLE PROOOOOOOOOOOOD-

BUT IT’S CAUGHT BY GORGO!

SCOOPS’ FACE CONTORTS IN PANIC AND TERROR AS GORGO GOES TO STRAIGHTEN HIS ARM! SHE’S WEAVING HER ARM UNDERNEATH HIS ARMPIT AND TRYING TO COLLAPSE HER BODY WEIGHT ONTO HIM!

SCOOPS IS TRYING TO KEEP HIMSELF STEADY, BUT IT’S A LOSING BATTLE!

JC: This is Yelena Gorgo’s patented submission move, the Black Rainbow, named after her former group! If she gets this locked in, it’s game over for Scoops!

JR: The question is just how long he can last before she pins him to the ground and locks it in fully?

GORGO PUSHES DOWN FURTHER ON SCOOPS AS HE HAS TO FALL TO A KNEE!

SCOOPS THROWS A RIGHT HAND INTO GORGO’S SIDE, BUT SHE HOLDS FIRM!

SCOOPS SLOWLY GETS BACK ONTO HIS FEET-

BUT SEB RUSHES IN WITH AN EMPIRE KICK TO BOTH COMPETITORS!

JC: SEB just waylaid the competition!

JR: Now’s his chance to score the pin!

SEB is tired! He’s groggy! He’s sweating everywhere! But he crawls along the ground to turn Scoops over as the crowd wills him on!

HE HOOKS THE LEG!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

JR: How the Hell is Scoops not down for the count yet?!

JC: He’s like a machine! SEB doesn’t look that fazed though!

SEB slowly pushes himself onto his feet, running down the list of options in his head-

KICKDEMOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!

THE ROUNDHOUSE CLOBBERS SEB ON THE JAW AS HE BARELY MANAGES TO NOT FALL DOWN! GLASSY EYES STARES BACK AT GORGO!

AND SHE FLASHES HIM THAT DISARMING, KILLER SMILE IN RESPONSE!

A SECOND KICKDEMON!

THIS ONE LANDS RIGHT ON SEB’S NOSE AS AN AUDIBLE CRACK RINGS OUT FROM THE IMPACT!

SEB IS GUSHING BLOOD ALL OVER HIS FACE, BUT HE’S STILL NOT FALLING! BUT HE DAMN SURE IS WOBBLING!

GORGO GOES IN ONE MORE TIME-

A THIRD KICKDEMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!

KNOCK OUT!

SEB SLUMPS TO THE FLOOR AS GORGO STANDS OVER HIS BODY!

SEBASTIAN EVERETT-BRYCE - KNOCKED OUT!

JC: Gorgo just dug into SEB like he was a piece of damn meat! And it still took three Kikkudemons to keep him down!

JR: And then… there were two.

Gorgo slowly cranes her head back further inside the shrine as she sees Scoops pulling himself to his feet. He’s tired, he’s hurt, his arm wants to fall out of his socket, yet somehow he’s still fighting as he grits his teeth towards Gorgo.

That killer grin from Gorgo hasn’t faded as she strolled her way forward. She looks towards the rows of weapons like they were fashion outfits to try on, before she takes a long halberd into her hands and twirls it around!

JC: Oh no.

JR: Uh… is she going to try to murder him? Can we even show this on the air?

JC: Well, we wouldn’t have put the weapons out there if it weren’t allowed, but… I don’t think I want to watch this…

Scoops won’t go down without a fight, though! He looks to the opposite row of weapons, before yanking free his own spear into his hands!

Gorgo’s eyes light up with ecstasy, a kindred spirit appearing in front of her as the two circle each other one last time!

JR: Is this a wrestling match or a HEMA competition?

JC: It’s a fight to the death more than anything right now!

Gorgo lunges in with an overhead slash with her halberd, trying to tear Scoops in twain!

But Scoops rolls to the side before she can slash him in time! He smacks her with the butt of the spear, before setting up for a lightning-quick thrust!

Gorgo parries the incoming spear attack, before using her weight to drive the weapon off to the side and bring Scoops with it!

AND THAT GETS HIM OFF-BALANCE ENOUGH FOR GORGO’S SPEAR TO SINK INTO SCOOPS’ SKIN!

THE AUDIENCE SHRIEKS IN HORROR AS BLOOD STARTS SPILLING!

BUT SCOOPS ROARS AS HE HOLDS GORGO’S HALBERD IN PLACE INSIDE OF HIS BODY SO HE CAN STAB RIGHT INTO HER SHOULDER WITH HIS SPEAR!

JC: THESE TWO MANIACS ARE GOING TO KILL EACH OTHER AT THIS RATE!

JR: Gorgo’s as big of a sadist as they come! But Scoops will kill himself out in a fight if it means he can drag his opponent to Hell along with him!

BOTH GORGO AND SCOOPS LOOK AT EACH OTHER WITH THEIR WEAPONS STUCK INSIDE OF EACH OTHER AS THEY LUNGE FORWARD!

CRACK!

DOUBLE HEADBUTT CONNECTS AS THEY STAGGER BACK AND REMOVE THEIR WEAPONS! MORE BLOOD POURS EVERYWHERE!

THE FIGHT IS STARTING TO LEAVE EACH OTHER’S EYES! THEY HAVE TO END THIS BEFORE ONE OF THEM PASSES OUT FROM BLOOD LOSS!

GORGO STEPS FORWARD WITH ANOTHER OVERHEAD SLASH!

SCOOPS SIDESTEPS THIS TIME AND PINS THE WEAPON IN PLACE WITH HIS SPEAR! RIGHT BEFORE HE KICKS GORGO’S SPEAR AS HARD AS HE CAN TO BREAK THE WEAPON IN TWAIN!

JC: HOLY SHIT!

JR: I THINK THAT TOOK A LOT OUT OF HIM!

SCOOPS IS ON SHAKY FOOTING AS HE STAGGERS!

HE SLASHES HIS SPEAR TOWARDS GORGO-

BUT GORGO NAILS A KICKDEMON THROUGH THE SPEAR THAT BREAKS IT AS WELL BEFORE SHE CLOBBERS SCOOPS RIGHT ON THE JAW!

JR: How fucking fast is she?!

JC: Yelena Gorgo is a goddamned MACHINE!

SCOOPS STAGGERS FORWARD AS HE’S USING THE LAST OF HIS ENERGY!

CATTLE PROD TO YELENA!

BOTH COMPETITORS FALL AGAINST EACH OTHER AS THEY SLUMP TO THE FLOOR!

JR: Are they dead?!

JC: No, they’re still breathing! I… Are we seeing a draw here?

A LONG MOMENT PASSES BY!

THE BREATH OF THE AUDIENCE HANGS IN THE AIR!

THE OFFICIALS ARE ABOUT TO TOSS THE MATCH…

BUT WAIT!

THEY’RE BOTH MOVING TOGETHER!

THE LAST DREGS OF THEIR ENERGY BEING USED-

AS GORGO LOCKS SCOOPS INTO THE BLACK RAINBOW AGAIN!

JR: TIME TO TAP, NAP OR SNAP!

JC: This is the same situation Gorgo forced Scoops into before, and SEB isn’t here to save him anymore! If she can plant his body down onto the ground and get the full Fujiwara Armbar applied, she’s going to win!

SCOOPS HOWLS IN PAIN AS YELENA MOVES TOWARDS HIS FINGERS AGAIN!

SHE DISLOCATES THE INDEX FINGER THIS TIME AS SCOOPS’ FACE TURNS BEET RED!

JR: SHE’S GONNA BREAK THE MAN, PIECE BY PEACE!

THE RAUCOUS CHANTS OF THE FANS ARE DEAFENING RIGHT NOW!

“FIGHT, SCOOPS, FIGHT! FIGHT, SCOOPS, FIGHT!”

JC: SCOOPS IS TRYING TO FEED OFF THE FAN ENERGY AS MUCH AS HE POSSIBLY CAN HERE! BUT WILL IT BE ENOUGH?!

SCOOPS SHOWS THE HEART OF A WARRIOR AS HE WILL NOT LET HIS BODY FALL! HE WILL FIGHT TO THE DEATH IF NEED BE!

HE MOVES! HE’S BRINGING GORGO WITH HIM! BUT HIS INTENT IS CLEAR, HE’S TRYING TO REACH RIGHT TOWARDS THE GAP IN THE WALL GORGO MADE WHEN SHE PULLED OUT HER HALBERD EARLIER!

JC: SCOOPS IS TRYING TO REACH FOR ANOTHER WEAPON HERE!

JR: HE’S GONNA TRY TO KILL YELENA GORGO FOR REAL!

SCOOPS GRABS RIGHT ONTO THE SHAFT OF ANOTHER SPEAR-

BUT GORGO DRAGS SCOOPS OFF! AND SHE DISLOCATES HIS MIDDLE FINGER WHILE SHE’S AT IT!

SCOOPS SCREAMS AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS!

BUT HE REVERSES THE ARMBAR INTO AN ARM DRAG AT THE LAST MOMENT!

GORGO GOES FLYING OFF INTO THE GAP SHE MADE!

AND SHE TUMBLES OFF THE STAGE!

RING OUT!

WINNER BY RING OUT: SCOOPS MCGEE!

JC: WHAT A MATCH WE HAVE WITNESSED HERE TONIGHT!

JR: Someone’s gotta go check on Gorgo, that was one hell of a fall!

JC: And check on the senior citizen while we’re at it!

Scoops is unable to even rise to his feet, but the expression of relief on his face is priceless! Medical staff rush into the shrine en masse, some of them venturing down into the pits as others help Scoops rise to his feet!

AND HE RAISES HIS GOOD HAND TO THE SKIES FOR HIS FANS!

THEY POP LIKE CRAZY FOR THE LEGEND IN RETURN!

Scoops is helped to the back as Warfare rolls to commercial!

JC: Folks, we're starting the final match of the night in the gallery of the Old Toledo! And we're forgoing entrances because... well...

JR: Because we can't risk pyro lighting this ship up like a roman candle!

JC: We've got three favorites to make HUGE runs in March Madness! The X-Treme champion, Samael Dyson! The Anarchy champion, Micheal Graves! And one-half of the Tag Team champions, Isaiah King!

JR: They're all champions, Jacuinde! But only one is making it to the next round of March Madness! And maybe out of the burning ship at all!

All three men stand across from each other in the gallery.

The air is tense as old rotted wood of the gallery creaks.

Nobody makes a move until…

FWOOOOSH!!!

A fire ignites and the room is set ablaze!

Triple-Threat X-TREME RULES TRIPLE-THREAT
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO
Must pin Samael Dyson for the X-Treme title to change hands

Stage Hazard - FIRE!

The soul ignites with Old Toledo as three warriors stand on the precipice of history!

JC: And with that EXPLOSION! The match is underway!

Eyes are on the Xtreme Champion as Graves rushes from the side and King sprints forward, Dyson’s eyes flick from one to the other and he runs at King!

Isaiah dives for a spear but Dyson leaps up and plants a foot on King’s spine and Mario jumps off his back and out of harm’s way but Graves keeps charging and shoulder barges King into the wall!

Samael lets out a laugh until Gravy snaps his head to him and comes barreling over, Dyson steps back until he hits a bookcase and begins throwing book after book at Gravy.

JR: Oh yeah that’ll stop Graves, literature! Bet he’s never made it past the Very Hungry Caterpillar.

Graves keeps moving forward as the toasted books bounce off him and he reaches Samael who throws the bookcase over and it crashes onto Graves! But Micheal bodies the blow and pushes the shelves off him but Dyson is right on him with an elbow to the orbital and scratches at his mask but Gravy counters with a snap hook and follows up by grabbing Samael by the throat.

Dyson gargles on his own spit as Gravy tightens his grip, lifting Samael up but Dyson manages to throw his hand onto Gravy’s groin and laughs as he tightens and twists.

But to no avail!

As Gravy simply laughs and brings Dyson toward him for a nasty headbutt!

Dyson shakes the cobwebs as his grip around Graves loosens and Gravy follows up with a second headbutt!

A streak of blood flows down Samael’s forehead as his eyes unfocus.

Gravy follows up with another headbutt but Dyson has the wherewithal to open his mouth in the nick of time and bite down on Graves’ nose!

A howl of pain comes from The Dark Warrior as he pushes against Dyson and manages to throw him off.

Dyson lands with a thump on the wooden floor as Gravy covers his face, blood dripping into his hand.

King is back on his feet and manages to lock a full nelson onto Gravy who struggles in the hold.

Dyson seizes the opportunity, rushes to his feet slipping slightly on the floorboards before running in with-

JC: BLACK MASTERPIECE!!!

The running kick looking for the groins of Gravy and King but before Samael can reach him, Gravy throws an arm down and a large puff of smoke explodes. Samael rushes through the mist and hits only King!

Isaiah grabs his crown jewels and drops to his knees in agony.

Samael swipes at the smoke and looks around before grabbing King around the neck and dropping him with a DDT!

And going for the cover!!!

The disembodied voice of the ref rings out.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!

And Gravy from nowhere falls from the ceiling and crushes both Samael and King with a massive splash!!!

JR: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!? Did Gravy just use his Critical Edge!?

JC: Critical Edge? Nobody played Soul Calibur 6, Joe. What Gravy did was good ol’ fashioned witchcraft.

The crash winds all three men as the room shakes and a pillar falls from the ceiling igniting the fire further.

Gravy bounces off clutching his ribs as Samael rolls on the ground in agony holding his back whilst King is gasping for air on his back.

The room burns further and further as more debris falls.

JC: The structural integrity is diminishing before our eyes, Joe.

JR: No shit, Jack. The place is on fire!

Gravy gets to a knee huffing before coughing heavily and covering his mouth, the black smoke from the fire clogging the air.

Samael sits up to meet him and stares deeply into Gravy’s eyes.

The two men stand up to meet each other, both gasping air.

Before they look down at a prone King and each grab a shoulder, forcing him up and barreling over to the large window.

JR: Some smart teamwork here in this triple threat, neither of them can breathe so they’re gonna use King to open a window!

JC: Pretty sure that’s not what you should do when there’s a fire.

JR: Why?

Both men hurl Isaiah out of the window, smashing the glass and sending him hurdling into the air!

ISAIAH KING - RING OUT!

There’s a brief moment as both men suck in clean air, until-

JC: That’s why.

[/b][/i][b]KA-FWOOOOOOOOOOSH!!![/b][/i][b]

The backdraft sets the room further ablaze and both men are caught in the fire!

Graves rips the curtains off the wall and begins suffocating the flames immediately as muffled screams come from him as Samael runs with almost a laugh as he drops and rolls to smother the flames.

Graves throws the curtains off of him, steam rising from his body as he stumbles forward with scorch marks on his outfit.

Dyson is on his knees, twitching as the pain stabs into him, his skin bright and red.

Gravy looms over to him and grabs his shoulders but Samael Dyson counters with a solid punch to the groin which lets out a metallic clang! And Dyson reels back holding his hand in agony while Graves laughs maniacally before quickly picking him up and dropping him back down with-

JC: GRAVE DIGGER!!!

The Death Valley Driver knocks all the wind out of Dyson and leaves a dent in the ground as the floorboards break and splinter.

Gravy drops down to a knee and shoves his elbow into Dyson’s face as he goes for the pin!

ONE!!!

TWO!!!!

THR-NO!!!!

Dyson kicks out before the three!

Graves slams the back of Dyson’s head into the floor and tries again.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!!

THR-NO!!!!

Graves growls in frustration and does it again, this time leaning his forearm on Dyson’s throat.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!!

THR-NO!!!!

This time Dyson halts the pin by digging his thumb into Graves’ eye and digging in deeply!

Gravy screams in agony and throws himself away from Dyson.

Samael forces himself up and begins to stumble, almost tripping over himself as he collapses against a side table and hurls the contents at Gravy before flipping the table over onto Gravy.

Samael stumbles back and walks away looking to the only exit and whistles loudly before hacking up a lung as smoke flows into him.

His insignificants appear in the hallway holding a large gauntlet like a prized possession. Samael doubles over spluttering and spitting on the ground as he waves his lackeys over impatiently.

As they get close, the room rumbles and a pillar falls over the hall followed by debris which crushes the insignificants.

Samael gawps at this before flying into a rage.

“You USLESS, MISERABLE BUNCH OF

I SHOULD

YOUR

UNTIL YOUR

is BLEEDING YOU

!!!!”

During his rage-filled speech, Gravy is back on his feet nursing a bloated black eye and he kicks the a flaming couch into the back of Samael to grab his attention.

Dyson looks back as Gravy stands there with a sick smile and grabs a flaming piece of wood and lurches over to him.

Dyson’s eyes widen as he looks back and then his eyes go to the gauntlet, sitting in the flames.

Samael lunges to the hall and sticks his body in the fire grabbing the red hot gauntlet and sticks his arm inside with a blood-curdling scream!

Graves gets to Dyson and grabs his belt pulling him up and Dyson swings wildly with the gauntlet catching Gravy’s jaw!

Graves stumbles back and barely dodges a second strike and bring the flaming stick on top of Dyson’s shoulder, it erupts into splinters as Dyson falls to a knee.

Graves goes for a stomp on the gauntlet but Dyson moves quickly and lands another strike into Gravy!

Graves falls to a knee also and the two are level.

They suck in air.

Sweating.

Burnt.

Bloody.

As they glare at one another.

With a huge amount of effort Samael lifts the gauntlet with a roar and strikes again but Gravy bats it away and the gauntlet flies across the room showing Samael’s deep red and blistered arm.

Gravy swings a right hook into Samael.

And Dyson swings a right into him!

Then Graves!

Then Dyson!

Again!

AND AGAIN!

JC: There’s no quit in either man!

JR: They’re gonna fucking die in there! One of them needs to do the honorable thing and just lay down before we lose both of them!

They continue striking.

Their punches getting heavier and slower and slower.

Until…

Both men cling onto consciousness.

The smoke blinding them.

The fire biting at them.

Gravy lifts his hand for one more strike.

As does Dyson.

But both men…

Fall against one another…

Both are out cold.

DOUBLE KO!

The fires are extinguished rapidly as XWF medics rush onto the scene.

[whote]JC: Oh my God! What… what?!?

JR: It seems like both ran out of oxygen! The official had to make the call to end it before both men suffocated in the raging fire that was the Old Toledo!

JC: But what even happens now, Joe?!?[/white]

The firefighters manage to retrieve from the raging inferno both Samael Dyson and Micheal Graves…

As a member of the XWF Ownership Management Team, ELON MUSK, emerges from the safety of a production truck!

”Double Knockout?!? What! So they all got eliminated?!?”

…

”Ugh… so, what happens now? Do none of them advance?”

Elon spins around to Peter Principle behind him.

”I hate that!”

Peter is horrified!

”You don’t like that, boss?!? Well… then we should do something else! But what?!?”

Nadine, Peter’s assistant raises her hand.

”Um… sir? Last year, there was a draw between Aurora and Yelena Gorgo in March Madness… and they both advanced to face the next round in a triple-threat!”

”That’s a neat bit of trivia, Nadine! But how does it apply to this situation where there was a draw between Samael Dyson and Micheal Graves! Those names are completely different!”

…

Nadine sighs. She leans into Peter’s ear and whispers.

”GASP!”

Peter spins toward Elon!

”Sir, I just had a great idea!”

He leans into Elon’s ear!

…

Elon’s eyes widen!

”XWF Universe! I was just struck by GENIUS! An idea entirely on my own!”

“Samael Dyson!”

“AND Micheal Graves!”

“Will BOTH advance to the next round of March Madness!”

“Whoever is unfortunate enough to draw them on the wheel…”

“Will face BOTH Graves AND Dyson!”

JC: Wow! Both Dyson and Graves advance!

JR: Incredible on the spot idea-generating by Elon Musk!

THANKS TO OUR MATCH WRITERS

Peter Principle
Liam Desmond
'Big' Dick Lichter
Atticus Gold

AND EVERYONE WHO RP'D!

]]>

February - 23 - 2025

LIVE FROM SCOTIABANK SADDLEDOME

CALGARY, ALBERTA, CANADA

(near Fort Assiniboine - Home of the World’s Largest Wagon Wheel)

Reggie Estrada
- vs -
Ennui Clown
Street Fight

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Winner: Reggie Estrada

''Wrestling has more than one... royal family.''

As soon as those words are heard, the crowd inside the Shrine of the Snake God Palgaea erupted as you heard the commentator's reaction as well.

''Adrenaline, in my soul
Every thought out of control
Do it all to get them off their feet''

''Crowd is here, about to blow
waitin' for me to start the show
out the curtain, lights go up I'm home
Whoooooooooooooa!''

…

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!

JC: There he is! The “Surgeon of Thug”! The “Chain Gang”! John Blade!

JR: We’ve seen him in Action Wrestling! We’ve seen him in WGWF! Wherever he goes, he gets a reaction! Where he goes, headlines follow! But for the first time in his storied wrestling career, John Blade has come to the XWF!

JC: This certainly isn’t a typical match, wrestling on a thin platform above an unfathomably deep drop! But, ya gotta wonder if a career that’s been as long as John Blade’s gives him some kind of experience advantage. If he can apply some stipulation in his past to this scenario and if that will give him the edge the Surgeon of Thug needs to carve out the win!

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[/align]

…

Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Eliminated: Barney Green

Winner and Advancing to the March Madness Quarterfinal: John Blade

Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Eliminated by KO: The Bing Bong Twinzz

Winner and Advancing to the March Madness Quarterfinal: Matthias Syn

"She askin' “Why you say that?!”

"Rich kid asshole, paint me as a villain"

"I'm winnin', yeah, yeah, I'm winnin' (What?)
Rich kid, asshole, paint me as a villain"

He extends his arms once more before pulling back his hood and removing his jacket to reveal the back of his tights which read “S.E.B.”

"Don't be mad cause I'm doing me better than you doing you
Better than you doing you, fuck it, what you gon' do? (What?!)"

♫ YOUR HEART ♫

♫ IS A HOLE ♫

The lights lining the walkway up the shrine begin to shudder and flicker endlessly, producing a disorienting, epileptic stutter. The shrieking song echoes out in rapid bursts.

♫ I CAN SEE FOR MILES AND MILES! ♫

♫ BEYOND THE BLACK RAINBOW! ♫

♫ EX-IT! ♫

♫ INSIDE THE MIDNIGHT YOU'VE BEEN SLITH-ER-ING ♫

♫ YOU FORM THE COLUMN'S … DE-FIC-IEN-CY ♫

♫ I LATCH ON TO YOU … WE … RE-PRESS-UR-IZE ♫

♫ IN-FRA-RED … PAR-A-DISE ♫

The bass drops out. A suspended moment of tension. Yelena stops dead. She stares at nothing, eyes wide, that grin horrifyingly fixed.

The beat DROPS.

♫ UPWARDS! FEEL THE PRE-SSURE! ♫

♫ ABSCESS! HEART IS A HOLE! ♫

♫ DISSOLVE! DISPLACE! REJOICE! REPEAT! ♫

♫ NO PRESSURE HERE! ADMIT DEFEAT! ♫

♫ BEYOND THE BLACK RAINBOW! ♫

Triple Threat
One Fall
If an opponent is thrown out of the stage or knocked out, the match will continue until someone is pinned, submitted or eliminated via Ring Out or KO

SEBASTIAN EVERETT-BRYCE - KNOCKED OUT!

WINNER BY RING OUT: SCOOPS MCGEE!

The soul ignites with Old Toledo as three warriors stand on the precipice of history!

ISAIAH KING - RING OUT!

I SHOULD

YOUR

UNTIL YOUR

is BLEEDING YOU

DOUBLE KO!

THANKS TO OUR MATCH WRITERS

Peter Principle
Liam Desmond
'Big' Dick Lichter
Atticus Gold

AND EVERYONE WHO RP'D!

]]> <![CDATA[WARFARE - February 9th, 2026]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49758 Mon, 09 Feb 2026 19:22:41 -0800 ELON MUSK]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49758

February - 9 - 2025

LIVE FROM T-MOBILE ARENA

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

Samael Dyson
- vs -
Razor Blade
Street Fight

'Dark Warrior' Micheal Graves
- vs -
R.L. Edgar
X-Treme Rules

'Her XCellency' Jenny Myst and The Director
- vs -
Latoya Hixx and Deena Hixx
SPECIAL GUEST REFEREE: Game Girl
Teams can either choose to do 2 solo RPs at 2k each OR 1 collab RP @ 4k

Game Girl can submit a RP declaring her intentions for the match, up to 1k

Centurion ©
- vs -
Scoops McGee
15 Minute Time Limit

The camera swings away from the arena, and right into the past.

At the bottom of the screen, a small ribbon announces the location:

XWF Headquarters.
Yesterday.

The camera then swoops, joining and jostling with a crowd pushing its way into the entrance.

A lone receptionist's voice tries to rise above the rabble.

“Less people in the elevator, please! Just who needs to be there for Mr. Musk's meeting!”

The mass still swarms.

“If everybody can just wait to the side for the lift, we can make a thoroughfare for regular egress! It's a fire safety thing, please.”

None of it works. The regular ding of the elevator continues to ferry the bodies to the sky.

A new solution is needed.

XWF's Head of Security, Tommy Gunn, finds it.

He opens a door to the stairwell and the marching feet of this seemingly invading force turn towards it.

The room begins to thin.

The elevator dings.

The camera finds a spot within it, staring right into the face of the figurehead of this controlled chaos.

The King of the XWF.
The Universal Champion.
Kieran King.

Silence reigns at the king's pleasure.

The elevator dings again.

By now, enough of the crowd had reached the top floor before Kieran, and rows upon rows of his Kingsguard - his personal security force and former Anarchy Tag Team Champions - shepherd him towards the boardroom.

Inside are just three men.

“A little ostentatious, no?” Elon Musk asks The King.

“You're one to talk,” Kieran retorts. “You tweeted over the weekend about building a city on the moon.”

“Xeeted,” Elon corrects.

“I don't know if my mouth can even make that sound,” Kieran says.

Jeff Bezos knows though. “You just pretend you're saying ‘zeet’ while tearing at the flesh of a baby–”

“–SHEEP!” THE ZUCK interrupts. “Jeff simps for lamb.”

“Is that… I don't think…” Kieran stammers. “Know what? I don't care. We have business to discuss.”

The King clicks his fingers.

Tommy Gunn appears at his side and with the help of the Kingsguard, places two platters onto the conference table.

On them are the Universal Championship and the King of the XWF Crown.

“Thank you,” Kieran says, perhaps uncharacteristically. “I've got it from here.”

“You sure?” Tommy asks.

Kieran nods, making clear eye contact with Elon.

The Kingsguard falls back. The main character of the XWF is left alone with its primary decision makers—his enemies, the Trillionaire Triumvirate.

“Let’s talk…” Kieran says, sitting down. “...about a new collective bargaining agreement.”

And the camera leaves the room too…

''Wrestling has more than one... royal family.''

As soon as those words are heard, the crowd inside the Target Center erupted as you heard the commentator's reaction as well.[/font][/size][/align]

WARFARE: What?!? No freaking way! Is he here? Is Razor Blade in the building?!?

JR: …Jacuinde, did you hear that? It sounded like Warfare itself just asked if Razor Blade was in the building? Jamie, can we get a clip of that?

JC: Joe, you have *got* to cut down on the DMT.

JC: For the first time since he won Star of the Month, Razor Blade is in the building!

JR: And not only that, Jacuinde! But this is the first time in a long, long while he’ll be competing with championship gold on the line!

JC: That’s true, Joe! Razor Blade, both as a singles competitor and alongside his usual tag partner Latoya Hixx, have been gunning for championship gold throughout their XWF tenure… They’re currently the #1 contenders to the Anarchy Tag Team championships after winning a match against Ennui Clown and Triskadekaphobia Clown!

JR: But then, all of a sudden, this opportunity falls into his lap! His already-scheduled opponent scores the X-Treme title and Razor is first in line to take a crack at him!

JC: Can Blade cut down his opponent and score his first ever XWF championship?

''Adrenaline, in my soul
Every thought out of control
Do it all to get them off their feet''

''Crowd is here, about to blow
waitin' for me to start the show
out the curtain, lights go up I'm home
Whoooooooooooooa!''

…

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

JC: And there’s the X-Treme champion himself! Samael Dyson!

JR: He’s been calling for the former champ, Jenny Myst to step into the ring with him ever since she got handed the title on a silver platter… but somehow, he managed to catch her unawares and scored the X-Treme off of her! And with the belt around Dyson’s waist… the X-Treme has NEVER felt more X-Treme than right now!

JC: Dyson is an enigma of pure id, Joe! Since he’s made his debut, every opponent he’s come across he’s tried to shock, control, or fuck!

JR: And/or fuck! It’s not always exclusive to just one of those!

JC: But with the X-Treme around his waist… a path has opened for Samael Dyson to obtain a 24/7 briefcase… can he take the first step tonight and defend his belt against Razor Blade?

Samael Dyson hits the stage, flanked by 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 down the ramp on a human staircase. Sam makes it to ringside and hops up to the apron… he climbs a corner turnbuckle and starts humping the pad like a feral maniac, 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.

XWF Xtreme Championship

Samael Dyson©
- vs -
Razor Blade

Street FightXtreme Rules

HIGHLIGHT REEL

As the bell rings, Razor goes to the center of the ring, eager to meet his opponent…

But Samael Dyson blows past his opponent, looking straight into the camera…

Arms outstretched, his mouth jawing straight at the XWF Universe, but what’s flowing from his mouth isn’t words, it’s pure madness!

MOUTH OPEN—

As the Insignificants sway at ringside, bags over their heads, whispering nonsense into one another’s ears.

JR: He’s speaking in tongues, Jacuinde! From the font of the Old Ones and their Dark Magics, Samael Dyson is communing with pure evil!

JC: Or he’s just speaking gibberish, Joe!

Samael sneers down the camera as the prophetic, undecipherable portent of doom flows from him…

Then—

Razor BladeC CHARGES AT FULL SPEED!

DROPICK TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD!

Samael STUMBLES forward into the corner!

The crowd ERUPTS!

JC: AND HERE WE GO! Razor Blade wasting ZERO time!

JR:But what of the ritual, Jacuinde? WHAT OF THE RITUAL?!?

As Dyson spins, letting the brunt of his forward momentum slam his back against the turnbuckle, Razor is already upon him, unloading with right hands!

FOREARM!
FOREARM!
FOREARM!

…Samael rocks back and forth with Razor’s strikes!

…His hips gyrating as he’s struck! Dyson unleashes a low cackle, shaking his head!

JR: This Samael Dyson is a real peculiar fella!

JC: Understatement of the century there, Joe!

The odd reaction to Razor’s offensive barrage slows Razor’s hand… He squints, trying to assess the madman before him…

And in that window, Dyson leaps like an inmate seeing a chance to chew through his guard’s sweet, delicious carotid artery! He leaps, taking down Razor!

He BITES Razor’s forehead!

The crowd BOOS HARD!

Samael lifts his face from Razor’s prone body, licking blood from his lips, eyes wild.

JC: That’s… deeply unsettling.

JR: Yeah, man, this guy’s got that “bad ayahuasca trip” energy. I don’t like it.

…

JR: Okay, I kinda like it.

The action has moved outside the ring, where Dyson HURLS Blade against the steel ring steps! Blade flips through the air, KERASHING onto the steel sideways, cradling his back as he punches the padded concrete…

Samael paces outside the ring as the Insignificants worship and lay chants of servitude and devotion onto him!

JC: Samael has been an unorthodox competitor the few times we’ve seen him in an XWF ring… but I don’t know if we’ve ever seen him MORE in his element than in this X-Treme Rules environment!

JR: The official can’t do much to limit Samael’s conduct! He just has to watch like a cuck in the corner chair!

In an excited burst, Samael lifts the apron and immediately starts lobbing whatever’s underneath inside the ring…

STEEL CHAIR!
TRASH CAN!
KENDO STICK!
A STOP SIGN!

JC: Isn’t that city property? Why do all wrestling shows have stop signs?

JR: What if we need someone to stop somewhere, Jacuinde? You ever think of that?

Dyson reaches under the apron again…

And retrieves a bowling ball!

His eyes are wide with sadistic glee!

JC: Oh dear God, someone please stop this!

JR: Wait, hold on, this is about to get really good!

Dyson spins back toward Razor, who’s pulled himself against the steel steps, breathing heavily…

Dyson has inserted his thumb and two fingers in the bowling ball… He’s sticking his tongue out… He raises another finger in the air to check for wind resistance…

He lifts the ball like a championship bowler…

…

But instead of bowling it toward Razor, he spins!

AND HUCKS IT LIKE A HAMMER THROWER!

JC: OH MY GOD!

JR: …This might be a murder attempt. Holy shit. Can you pin a dead guy?

The 16 pound ball hurtles through the air!

IT COLLIDES!

…

With the steel steps! Razor narrowly found the wherewithal to dive out of the way!

JC: …Phew. Holy shit! Razor wouldn’t have a skull if Dyson had connected there!

JR: But what other sadistic ideas does he have cooking in that kitchen of depravity that is his brain!

Back inside the ring, Razor is crawling, desperately trying to find an avenue to avoid more beating as Dyson scoops the kendo stick off the mat…

JC: Samael Dyson not even attempting to pin—this is about punishment!

JR: I don’t know if Sammy remembers he can pin Razor! He’s still getting off on the novelty of No Rules, Jacuinde. It’s the exact experience I had the first time I went to an Outback Steakhouse

WHAM! Dyson catches Razor across the back with the kendo stick! Razor flops onto his face, cradling his stomach…

Samael tosses the stick aside, grabs the trash can as Razor slowly rises to his knees!

SLAMS it over Razor’s head!

Razor collapses flat onto his back…

Samael pushes Razor’s legs over his head salaciously, as he winks into the camera!

ONE!

TWO—

RAZOR KICKS OUT!

The crowd POPS!

Samael looks… annoyed.

JC: I’ll give this to Razor… I think some competitors would have played dead by now and let Sam take the win so they can live to fight another day… But Blade REFUSES to let this shot pass him by!

JR: He wants it, Jacuinde! Razor wants that championship gold! But is it worth the years Samael is taking off his life with this hyperviolent display?!?

Samael springs off Razor’s prone body as Razor flips onto his front, crawling for the ropes…

Dyson stomps Razor’s hand!

Then the other!

Razor snorts in pain, cradling his aching wrist…

As Dyson pulls him up to his feet by his arm! Pulling Razor’s skull between his legs!

SLOPPY-AS-FUCK SNAP SITOUT PILEDRIVER!

JC: Oh FUCK! That was… that was gnarly!

JR: I’ve seen some technically beautiful piledrivers, like stuff out of a Russian ballet! THAT looked like a snuff film!

Razor bounces hard… not moving…

Samael plants a foot on Razor’s ches-...nope, his dick.

JC: Adding indignity to injury here!

Cover—

ONE!

TWO—

NO!

SOMEHOW! SOME WAY! RAZOR STILL KICKS OUT!

[white]JC: Razor Blade refusing to stay down!

JR: That was Sam’s one mistake! Dropping Blade on his head! Blade’s got way more guts than brains!

Razor is face down by the corner turnbuckle… Slowly grabbing the ropes, slowly pulling himself back to a vertical base…

As Samael continues muttering nonsense… a steel chair held in his hands like a sacrificial knife…

JC: Samael’s eyes look like a shark that can smell blood!

JR: He’s offering Blade to the Old Ones! Letting them feast on the inside of his skull that he’s about to break open like a pinata made out of watermelon!

…Razor’s hands find the middle turnbuckle… The top… He’s up…

Samael takes a breath, savoring the moment before the ‘kill’...

He SWINGS! LOOKING FOR A DECAPITATION!

…

But Razor DUCKS!

Samael swings so hard the chair flies out of his grip to the mat!

JC: Razor’s not done yet!

Samael spins around, desperate! Diving at Razor like a mental hospital escapee! But Razor nimbly somersaults under Samael’s dive, back towards his corner, where Sam’s lost chair sits…

Samael, desperately hungry for the end, puts on the brakes and spins around, diving again!

…But this time, Razor catches him in midair!

SPINNING POWERSLAM ON THE CHAIR!

JC: Oh SHIT! What a counter by Razor Blade!

Razor hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-NO! Samael kicks out!

JC: …Impressive wherewithal by Samael Dyson! He finds a way to survive!

JR: He doesn’t look beat at all, Jacuinde! He looks FURIOUS!

Both Razor and Samael quickly scramble off the mat… Razor’s foot pulls the dented trash can in the ring closer…

Samael goes for a wild, swinging haymaker!

…But Razor ducks it! Samael spins! Razor secures him in a side headlock!

RUSSIAN LEGSWEEP ONTO THE TRASH CAN! The metal collapses under the combined weight!

JC: Razor’s putting something together here!

…Samael, looking woozy, shoves himself off the mat… maybe faster than he should…

Razor’s already diving through the air!

RUNNING BULLDOG!

Samael’s face CRACKS off the mat!

The building SHAKES!

Razor Blade just planted the champion!

JR: That’ll rattle your demons, man!

Razor covers!

ONE!

TWO!

THR—NOOOOO!

SAMAEL BARELY GETS A SHOULDER UP!

Razor can’t believe it!

JC: Razor might just do it tonight! He might just win his first XWF Singles title!

Samael is gripping onto the middle rope as the Insignificants outside the ring mutter panicked whispers between themselves…

In a flash, Razor peels Samael away from the ropes!

He drags Samael into a guillotine—

BLADE ROSE!

…

NO! Samael finds the counter to spin out, delivering a BOOT to Razor’s gut! Razor drops to one knee!

JR: Samael not done yet!

He reels back his hand…

JC: Gasp! Samael might be looking for that Heart Punch! His biological father, Matthew X’s finishing move!

Razor rises!

Dyson SWINGS!

HEART PUNCH!

…Razor ducks under!

He runs toward the ropes as Dyson spins round!

…

DIAMOND BLADE!

SPRINGBOARD CUTTER!

JC: HE HIT IT! HE HIT THE DIAMOND BLADE! WE’RE GONNA HAVE A NEW CHAMPION!

The crowd is UNHINGED! Outside the ring, The Insignificants have upgraded from panicked whispers to full-on weeping and gnashing their teeth!

Razor hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

—AN INSIGNIFICANT GRABS SAMAEL’S FOOT AND YANKS IT ONTO THE ROPE!

The referee SEES IT—NO COUNT!

The crowd BOOS FURIOUSLY!

JC: Are you kidding me!? Razor had the match won!

JR: Cult dudes, man. You gotta factor in the cult dudes.

Razor springs up, as the Insignificants comfort and praise the bag-faced among them who reached into secure Samael’s foot onto the ropes… Blade hits the opposite ropes!

He runs!

AND DIVES THROUGH THE ROPES!

He WIPES OUT the huddle of Insignificants! Bags and bodies go flying everywhere!

One manages to rise to his… its? Feet! And Blade grabs the Insignificant by the skull!

BLADE ROSE OUTSIDE THE RING!

The crowd is booming! Razor barks at them and they get even louder!

…As he does, an Insignificant rolls…

Something…

Into the ring?

JC: What the HELL is that?

JR: It’s… oh jesus, it’s a giant

!

The entire

is censored by a big black outline. Whatever this object is, it’s so profane in nature that speaking of it or even allowing a second of it unobstructed on-screen is unacceptable per FCC guidelines!

Blade rolls back into the ring as Dyson scoops the

into his hands!

Blade charg-

WHAM! The

hits Blade straight in the skull!

JC: OH GOD!

Blade is unconscious… and smells vaguely of

.

Samael FALLS ON TOP OF HIM, cackling, hooking nothing, just collapsing—

The referee slides back in—

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

WINNER AND STILL XWF X-TREME CHAMPION: Samael Dyson

The bell rings.

The Insignificants FLOOD the ring.

Samael lies atop Razor Blade, laughing breathlessly, whispering nonsense to the ceiling.

JC: Samael Dyson retains—but Razor Blade pushed him to the absolute edge!

JR: Blade almost had it. First title, first defense for Samael—he got careless, and Razor nearly took his head off.

JC: Razor Blade proved tonight he belongs on this stage.

JR: Yeah. And Samael proved he’ll do anything to keep that belt. Including bringing a

!

JC: Stop saying it!

JR: It’s bleeped! The audience can’t hear!

JC: But I can, Joe!

R.L. Edgar is already in the ring.

'Dark Warrior' Micheal Graves
- vs -
R.L. Edgar
X-Treme Rules

DING! DING! DING!

As the bell rings, Micheal Graves wastes ZERO time as he bolts his way out of his corner! R.L. Edgar can barely react in time as Graves squashes him with a HUGE splash into the corner!

Edgar gets squashed like a bug as he heaves on the impact, but Graves sets Edgar back, opening him up for a back elbow right to the skull! It knocks Edgar right on the forehead as he tries to keep himself stable!

But Graves hits Edgar with ANOTHER elbow! And another! And another!

The referee tries to create some separation and give Edgar some breathing room as he’s in the ropes, but Graves causes the ref to back down with a hard glare that sends shivers down his spine!

JC: Graves is on a warpath right now, ever since he came back! It’s like no time has passed since he was the Anarchy champion before-

JR: Allegedly.

JC: -and he’s eager to remind people of that fact!

Graves turns his attention right back to Edgar, who quickly raises a boot right up to Graves’ face, causing him to stagger right back into the middle of the ring.

Edgar quickly pounces on Graves, landing a hard right between the eyes that has the big man stumbling. It’s followed up by a quick boot to the gut, forcing Graves to double over.

JR: Edgar is showing some fire, trying to stay in this.

JC: R.L. Edgar is a former veteran of the ring himself, he’s not wanting his return spoiled so soon by Graves.

Edgar runs off the ropes to come back towards Graves-

BUT GRAVES COMES RIGHT BACK TO HIS FEET AS HE PICKS UP EDGAR LIKE IT’S NOTHING!

FALLAWAY SLAM ACROSS THE RING!

EDGAR BOUNCES OFF THE MAT LIKE HE’S RUBBER, LANDING RIGHT NEXT TO THE TURNBUCKLE!

JR: Edgar got turned inside out like a ragdoll!

JC: Graves can do a lot in the ring, but he’s underrated as a downright bruiser. It’s almost freakish.

Edgar tries to use the ropes to his advantage, pulling himself right back to his feet, but Graves LUNGES at him at top speed, spearing him right into the turnbuckles!

Edgar’s body CONTORTS on impact, his backside literally between the top and middle turnbuckles as his face is one of agony!

Graves doesn’t let him sit for long though, forcing him out and into the middle of the ring! Graves chases after him- BULLDOG!

Quick pin attempt-

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

JR: Edgar still trying to keep himself in this…

JC: This is how Graves operates in the ring though, Joe. Lots of pinfalls, trying to wear down your strength. The more Edgar is on the back foot here, the more he feeds into that general strategy-

GRAVES HOISTS EDGAR RIGHT UP ONTO HIS SHOULDERS!

JC: -or he could be looking for the killshot right here instead!

Edgar tries to squirm out of the hold, but he can’t get himself free fast enough!

GRAVES SPRINTS FOR THE CORNER!

AND HE SLAMS EDGAR INTO THE TURNBUCKLES WITH A DEATH VALLEY DRIVER!

JC: Graves turning himself into a Grave Digger with that vicious Death Valley Driver!

JR: Modified Death Valley Driver, at that. Getting your back slammed into the turnbuckles like that… it’s the type of stuff that could get you landed into a wheelchair!

ANOTHER COVER BY GRAVES!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Graves scowls at Edgar’s persistence, but doesn’t let it get him down for long! He gets right back up to his feet, and puts Edgar’s head right between his legs!

JR: It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what Graves is going for here, Jack.

JC: You said it, Joe. Graves is no doubt looking for that vicious Razor’s Edge slam, trying to give Edgar some Graves Consequences!

BUT R.L. EDGAR DIGS DOWN DEEP!

AND COUNTERS THE MOVE INTO A BACK BODY DROP!

THE FANS POP LIKE CRAZY AS HE’S GOT A CHANCE TO BREATHE!

JC: Is this the comeback the people have been looking for?!

JR: He’s got only one chance to make this work!

EDGAR BEGINS TO SCALE THE TURNBUCKLES!

THE FANS ARE WILLING HIM ON!

BUT GRAVES QUICKLY GETS BACK ONTO HIS FEET!

HE THUMPS EDGAR FROM BEHIND AS HE SLUMPS FORWARD!

GRAVES SITUATES HIMSELF RIGHT ON THE FIRST ROPE, BACK-TO-BACK WITH EDGAR!

HE GRABS HIM BY THE ARMS…

JC: Oh no.

JR: I think Edgar is about to fly, Jack!

GRAVES THROWS EDGAR ACROSS!

GRAVES CONSEQUENCES OFF THE ROPES!

R.L. EDGAR GETS SPIKED RIGHT ON HIS HEAD AS HE LIES MOTIONLESS!

GRAVES SLIDES IN FOR THE COVER AS THE REF PROCEEDS TO COUNT!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Winner: ‘Dark Warrior’ Micheal Graves

Graves triumphantly raises his fists to a chorus of boos, and he takes a minute to soak in the vile hatred. As the referee comes towards him to give him his Anarchy Championship back, he snatches it away from his hands.

JC: Dominant win for Micheal Graves there, Joe. You gotta wonder if there’s any stopping him at this rate.

JR: Picking up a solid win is a good way to get yourself ready for March Madness coming right around the corner, Jack. Who says Graves can’t pull off the upset and go all the way?

JC: He’ll certainly try to sell you on that, but he’s got a stacked field to get through first! This March Madness is the largest in XWF history, after all!

Graves walks to the back with his Anarchy Championship, with medical personnel tending to R.L. Edgar as Warfare goes to commercial.

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

JC: And here comes our special guest referee for the night.....GAME GIRL! And just listen to that crowd pop! They love her!

JR: I've seen the fans on Twitter say that Game Girl was 'Robbed' off the X-treme Title at Snow Pain, Snow Gain- and the alleged burglar is none other than Jenny Myst herself! Tonight, a lesser person would be seeking revenge as the referee!

JC: But Game Girl is a good noodle! She promised to call this match right down the middle, despite the fact that Jenny Myst and her ex-Corporate crew have been screwing with her for weeks!

When The Storm is Coming hits Latoya Hixx. They heard a voice laugh in the background and saw blue lights from the entrance and some smoke and rainfall coming down she walked onto the middle stage flexed her muscles walked straight down towards the aisle slapped a few XWF fans got inside the ring and dim the lights in the ring and she flexes her arms once more and spread her arms and climbs on the top rope and yell at her fans and tells them to let's go and climbs down off the ropes and waits for her partner to arrive.

JC: Here comes one of Razor Blade's best friends and one-half of the HIXX SISTERS, Latoya Hixx!

JR: A mainstay on XWF Anarchy, Latoya Hixx has had crossover success on Warfare and has even notched up BACK-TO-BACK Pay Per View Wins! Say what you will about her- but she's undeniably on a roll!

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 and slides into the ring and leans on the ropes with her legs crossed and waits for her Opponent to arrive.

JC: And Latoya's sister, Deena Hixx!

JR: Do you think El Landerson is mad that Latoya is tag-teaming with her sister on Warfare? The two of them have already clinched a shot at the Anarchy Tag-Titles...maybe El Landerson is feeling a little jealous tonight watching his partner tag without him?

JC: I don't think so, Joe! Landerson, The Hixx Sisters, Razor Blade- they're all good friends on and off camera! Landerson wouldn't hold a grudge for this. If anything, I bet he's backstage rooting for his friends tonight!

The Director appears to silence initially, as he surveys the crowd, sitting on a gilded director's chair, with a black cloak at his back. "Whiplash" by Architects cracks the silence as four masked men, clad in all black, each mask bearing an X, O, triangle and square, respectively. As the music plays, they each grab a corner of the chair, lifting him and carrying him down the ramp like pall bearers. When they reach the end of the ramp, they set the chair down and X kneels down on all fours as the other three step aside. The Director stands, removing his cloak and handing it to one of the other masked men. He then steps onto X's back, using him as a human step stool to enter the ring. Once in the ring, he spins with arms outstretched, taking in the boos of the crowd. He then moves to one corner, where he sits on the middle turnbuckle and ropes like a throne. He enfolds his hands and awaits the start of the match.

JR: This Director guy seriously gives me the creeps. He acts like this is his world, and we're all just pawns on his chessboard.

JC: Indeed, Joe! The Director is constantly scheming. First, he was scheming on Anarchy exclusively! But now, he's brought his schemes over to Warfare- and somehow, he's struck up an unlikely alliance with Jenny Myst and the Bastardly bunch!

JR: I don't know what The Director gets from working with monsters like Charlie and Jenny, but frankly, I know whatever it is, it can't be good for the rest of us!

JC: That's not to mention the fact that The Director showed up in UGWC a month ago to save SEB from an attack! How might Sebastian Everett-Bryce play into all of this?

JR: I know this much...all The Director's plots all seem to involve a deep and tangled web of violence!

"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 ramp, 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.

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.

At ringside, she wipes her boots on the apron with exaggerated care before stepping up, climbing through the ropes with smooth precision. No wasted movement. No nerves. Inside the ring, she walks straight to the center, turning once more as the music continues to snarl through the arena.

The music fades.

And suddenly, the ring feels smaller.

JC: If you ask me, this ring feels suddenly smaller!

JR: Well of course it does, there's 4 people in there now- and none of them stand taller than HER X'CELLENCY herself, Jenny Myst!

JC: Jenny Myst's return to this company has completely rocked the X-division, and now, she's turning her sights towards the tag division with this impromptu alliance!

JR: I wonder if Jenny and The Director will be able to work together in there!

JC: I get the feeling that we are about to find out!

Jenny Myst and The Director
- vs -
Latoya Hixx and Deena Hixx
SPECIAL GUEST REFEREE: Game Girl

DING! DING! DING!

We're off to the races as Latoya Hixx steps into the ring to represent her team. Latoya cracks her knuckles and cranks her neck before she starts approaching the opposite corner, where Jenny Myst stands in front of the turnbuckle pads. But before Latoya can even begin to wrestle, Jenny turns to The Director and tags him into the match! Jenny sports a cocky grin as she winks at Latoya whilst stepping out to the apron.

JR: Jenny Myst is already starting her mind games!

JC: But I wonder how The Director is going to feel, it looks like Jenny is kinda trying to boss him around in there!

The Director and Jenny begin arguing about who should start the match, as they take turns just tagging each other in without consent.

That's when Game Girl comes over whilst both Jenny and Director are standing in the ring, and the special referee begins telling them that this match has to begin immediately! Game Girl tells them that they have to just stop tagging out immediately!

Now Jenny and The Director just start arguing with Game Girl instead of each other!

JC: It sounds like like Jenny and The Director are telling Game Girl that they want to 'freebird' this tag-match...whatever that means! But Game Girl is a good referee, and she's not letting that B.S. slide in this match!

JR: At least they stopped arguing with each other! Jenny and The Director are bonding over their shared hatred for Game Girl's rules lawyering!

JC: Rules lawyering?! She's the referee! That's her job!

JR: Oh..."it's just her job"...yeah, that didn't work at Nuremberg, and it won't work with me!

Game Girl seems adamant that either Jenny or Director must stay in the ring- and after a ridiculous amount of time, the pair finally acquiesce! But not in the way that GG was hoping for.

Jenny and The Director simultaneously push GG out of the way, and then they deliver a double-boot to Latoya's unsuspecting midsection! As GG pulls herself back to a standing position, Jenny and Director both grab Latoya around the neck- before dropping her with a double DDT!

GG screams and hollers warnings of imminent disqualification, but The Director and Jenny Myst just snicker to themselves before The Director steps back out onto the apron.

JC: Wait a second....I think they planned this! These two goons are already bending the rules and pushing them to their breaking point!

JR: That's what these two do best! Latoya and Deena will just have to adapt!

GG starts chiding Jenny for the illegal ploy, but Jenny DGAF about that! Myst is already back on Latoya like a wolverine, taking complete advantage of the dirty double-team blow. Jenny puts Latoya's arm into a kimura, wrenching it for nearly half a minute before expertly rolling it into a headlock! Jenny's putting on a technical clinic in the ring!

But outside the ring, Deena Hixx is trying to rile the fans in support of her sister. Deena leads the audience in a clap-a-long, giving Latoya to resist Jenny's grappling! With Jenny holding her in a headlock, Latoya begins to slowly rise to her feet. Once she's in a standing position, Latoya grabs a hold of Jenny's waist!

Jenny's jaw drops cartoonishly as Latoya lifts her up into the air! But Jenny isn't letting go of the headlock, she's keeping it locked tight!

But Latoya forces her way out of the hold with a vicious belly to back suplex that shakes the entire ring!

JR: That's one way to escape a submission!

JC: These fans gave Hixx the strength to get out of it! They want the Hixx sisters to beat the snot out of Jenny Myst for all the stuff she's pulled!

Latoya and Jenny rebound from the force of the suplex, and each of them dives over to their respective corner!

They make the tags!

Deena Hixx and The Director storm into the ring!

JC: And here come some fresh bodies!

JR: Let's see who gets the edge!

Deena and The Director tie up in the center of the ring as their partners roll out to the aprons. Deena tries to manhandle The Director with superior upper-body technique, but The Director doesn't have time for that nonsense! He kicks Deena right in the knee, Jon Jones style! Deena takes a step back as the pain jolts through her leg. But then, The Director kicks her in the same knee AGAIN!

Then, The Director takes to the ropes-

BEFORE DROP-KICKING DEENA'S KNEE!

Hixx falls to the mat, clutching her injured leg!

JR: The Director is going right for that kneecap! He's a man with a plan!

JC: A sick and twisted plan, if you ask me!

The Director grabs Deena, pulling her up by her hair before slapping her right across the face with disrespect! Then he irish whips Deena right through the ropes, sending her flying out of the ring and against the barricade outside!

JR: He just threw her clear across and OUT OF the ring!

JC: But wait a second....who's that sitting in the front row, right where Deena landed?!

The camera cuts to a shot outside the ring, where we see a slew of familiar faces sitting in the front row!

CHARLIE NICKLES!

MR. OZ!

DR. HOLLY CAMBRIC!

AND-

JENNIE NICKLES!

Are all seated at ringside, sharing a few buckets of comically sized popcorn...

Popcorn that they begin dumping all over Deena Hixx whilst The Director and Jenny Myst begin cracking up inside the ring!

JC: What the hell are they doing at ringside?!

JR: Well...they must have tickets! They're enjoying the show!

JC: Game Girl should do something about this!

JR: Do something? I'm not sure there's anything she can do! Unruly fans are supposed to be handled by security, not the referee!

Latoya Hixx leaps off the apron and confronts Charlie and the crew- telling them to leave her sister alone!

THAT'S WHEN THE DIRECTOR SUICIDE DIVES OVER THE TOP ROPE!

THE DIRECTOR TAKES OUT BOTH LATOYA AND DEENA WHILE THEY'RE DISTRACTED!

JC: OH MY GOD!

JR: I CAN'T BELIEVE HE STUCK THE LANDING!

JC: STUCK THE LANDING?! HE LANDED RIGHT ON THEIR NECKS!

JR: EXACTLY!

The crowd gasps as The Director and the Hixx sisters crash to the mat placed outside the ring. The crew in the front row begin going apeshit, absolutely hyping up their boy The Director after his big dive!

After some time, The Director lifts himself up from the wreckage- before setting his sights upon Deena Hixx once more. The Director grabs Deena before sliding her back into the ring. The Director wipes popcorn greases off on the apron before he himself slides back into the ring.

Deena is trying to push herself to her feet, but the popcorn butter on her boots makes it hard for her to get a steady foothold- and it makes it easy for The Director to line her up for an EMPIRE KICK!

JC: AN EMPIRE KICK! That's SEB's move!

JR: Not anymore, I spose'!

Deena's head cracks off Director's boot, and then the mat. The Director just stares down at her with hatred in his heart as the crowd boos. But instead of going for the pin, The Director just goes for the corner- and tags Jenny Myst back in.

JC: Ok, this is starting to get sick! These two are just playing with their food at this point!

JR: But maybe that's the point! The Director and Jenny Myst are trying to send a message to the entire tag division!

But instead of stepping into the ring, Jenny Myst climbs to the top rope...

JR: It looks like Jenny wants to go airborne!

JC: Oh god no...Latoya needs to come save Deena!

JR: Latoya's slumped outside the ring right now, she's not saving anyone!

Jenny Myst perches on the top rope for a moment, looking down at Deena- not with pity, but with contempt.

Then, she leaps into the air before executing a rounding moonsault!

JR: IDENTITY CRISIS!

JC: Please, let this match be over! I can't watch anymore of this vicious assault!

Jenny hooks the leg on the moonsault!

Game Girl has no choice but to drop down and count the pin, no matter how much it kills her to do it!

1!

2!!

3!!!

WINNERS by pinfall - Jenny Myst & The Director

JC: This was a disgusting performance from Jenny Myst and The Director! The Hixx Sisters came out here for a clean tag match, and they got everything but that!

JR: It’s not their fault, they just gamed the system! And they gamed Game Girl! They pushed every rule, every limit, every boundary to the absolute breaking point- without ever pushing far enough that Game Girl could disqualify them! And lord knows she wanted to!

JC: They took advantage of the referee’s good-natured spirit!

Game Girl goes to raise Jenny and Director’s hands- a begrudged expression etched onto her face…

When suddenly, out of nowhere-

EMPIRE KICK!

The Director takes the special referee out!

JC: NO! DAMN IT, NO! Game Girl called this match right down the middle, she gave every break possible to those dirty cheaters- and this is the thanks she gets?!

JR: No good deed goes unpunished! Everyone gets an Empire Kick from The Director!

The Director picks her up by the head, as Game Girl is wobbly trying to get her footing. He shoves her towards Myst…….

IT’S LOCKEDIN!

PINK PERFECTION! (Sister Abigail DDT!)

That’s when Mr. Oz, Dr. Cambric, and the Nickles siblings leap over the ringside barrier and all slide into the ring to celebrate the big win!

The crowd boos tremendously, everyone in the arena screaming bloody murder at the top of their lungs. Hot dog wrappers, soda cans, and even a few beer bottles fly into the ring as the angry crowd demonstrates their misgivings.

The bastards in the ring just grin and smirk, soaking up all the hatred coming their way.

Then, suddenly- Charlie Nickles calls for a microphone. A ringside attendant has no choice but to pass one into the ring.

The Nickleman presses the microphone to his lips as his crew celebrates behind him.

Charlie: “Another monumental win, notched on our bastardly belts.

But tonight wasn’t a win for “The Corporation”.

Never The Corporation….never again.

Tonight, we showed everyone what happens when the puppets cut their strings.

What happens when the dogs get off their leash, and out of the cage!”

The Nickleman stares out into an arena full of haters and naysayers, with absolutely no fucks given about the feelings of the snowflakes in the crowd.

Charlie: “Tonight, two of my top killers showed you what it looks like for a Corporation to die…

And what it looks like for a Brotherhood to be born in blood.

Now pucker up and listen close…

Because everyone’s Jenny has something to say.”

The Nickleman smirks as Jennie Nickles begins to reach for the mic-

But he hands it right to Jenny Myst.
Jenny grabs the mic, already half-laughing before she even speaks.
“Oh my God… I am like SOOO glad Dyson finally did something productive with his life and took that annoying little X title off my hands,” she says, waving it off like lint on a jacket. “I was bored. Truly. Spiritually. Deeply bored with it.”
She paces a step, eyes rolling.
“Carrying it. Defending it. Pretending it mattered. Pretending he mattered. I did what I wanted to do with it. I came in, I won it, I got the rules around it changed, and then I dropped it off when I was done so it can be someone else’s burden. Now Samael Dyson has to carry a title that will forever have my imprint on it while I continue my reign with a REAL X-treme title that doesn’t have stupid 24/7 rules around it. ” She holds up Mortimer, the WGWF X-Division belt.
Hair flip.
“And don’t get it twisted—do you honestly think that if I wanted to keep that title… I would’ve let a ‘man’—” she makes air quotes, slow and exaggerated, “—and honestly, the jury is still very much out on that—who smells like curdled milk and mothballs… pin me backstage and take it from me?”
She stops. Smiles. Lets the crowd buzz.
“No.”
A small nod.
“The answer is a resounding no.”
Jenny lifts the mic again, like she almost forgot something—and then smiles when she remembers.
“But my focus now?” she says, tapping the mic once. “Oh, my focus has shifted.”
She nods slowly.
“Because now I’m looking at the Tag Team Titles.”
A pause.
“And maybe… a little rule change while we’re there.”
She shrugs, faux-innocent.
“We want the tag titles. You know—” she smirks, “—the real ones. Sorry, Anarchy.”
The crowd reacts.
“And that brings me to Seb and King.” She waves it off. “They haven’t defended those belts since Night Two of Relentless—which, for those of you keeping track of events in this thrift store of a wrestling company, was basically forever ago.”
She starts pacing now.
“Instead? They’ve been play-fighting with each other over the belts. Breaking up. Making up. Breaking up again. Then reuniting like it’s some prestige drama nobody asked for.”
A hair flip the other way.
“Seb is spending more time fucking Betsy Granger than defending the tag titles. Quite frankly Bets…you could do a lot better.”
She points to the Nickleman who gives a thumbs up. Crowd erupts.
“And Isaiah King?” She tilts her head. “He’s spending more time getting his ass beaten by his own besty than defending the tag titles.”
Jenny stops, dead center.
“They are enemies turned to lovers turned back to enemies turned back to lovers—on a loop. On repeat. Like it’s synced to the moon cycle.”
She looks straight into the camera now.
“And the entire tag division?”
She spreads her hands.
“They just have to sit there… and watch two grown men break up and make up every couple of months while the belts collect dust. Hell, Bad Bunny’s halftime show was more entertaining and I didn’t even understand what he was saying!”
A small, dangerous smile creeps in.
“Just like half the country Sunday Night.…We’re done watching. The time is now.”
Then, Jenny hands the microphone back to The Nickleman- who merrily accepts it with giddy and glee. These self-righteous cunts just live to hear themselves speak.

Charlie: “But as we all know, a Brotherhood is only as good as it’s weakest link…”

Charlie begins eyeing every member of the crew up and down, but he stops and pauses as his gaze meets Dr. Cambric’s.

Charlie: “And at Snow Pain, Snow Gain we learned that weakness still lives among us.

Still costs us matches.”

The Nickleman glares at Cambric as Jenny Myst and The Director step towards Cambric with ill-intent. Jennie Nickles and Mr. Oz look confused as the tension suddenly sharpens within their faction.

Charlie: “Our prestigious doctor let us go into the big show hurt, wounded, and at a disadvantage.

My injury?

Well, a broken back of course…after all, I’ve been carrying the XWF off-and-on for the last 5 years- and frankly, it’s starting to grow bothersome.”

The Nickleman feigns a back injury as he looks to Cambric. Then, he gestures towards Jenny Myst.

Charlie: “And Jenny Myst, well…her buttocks was sore from all the ass-kissers and rimjobbers going after her in the X-treme halls.”

JC: He’s just making excuses at this point! He’s blaming Holly Cambric for everyone else’s losses!

JR: That’s what a good leader does! He finds a scapegoat, and he redirects the blame to them!

The crowd boos at the nasty bullying as Dr. Cambric raises her palms to protest her innocence.

Charlie: “So where was our Doctor, when we needed her most? On the precipice of Snow Pain, Snow Gain?”

Cambric begins trying to explain herself, but it’s no use- Charlie and company aren’t bothering to hear her out.

Charlie: “When I lost at Snow Pain, Snow Gain I realized something about you, Cambric-

I realized that you’re not just a shitty wrestler, you’re an even worse doctor!

You’re just another mutt who’s not fit to run with the big dogs!

Another piece of trash, another puppet that needs to be broken and thrown away…

Another Solomon Kline that I have to get rid of.”

JC: Wait….did Charlie just admit that he ‘got rid of’ Solomon Kline?! So it’s true! The attack on Kline WAS an inside job!

JR: It’s just like 9/11, and COVID!

The Nickleman glares at Cambric before giving a signal to Myst and The Director- and the pair begin laying right into Cambric! Kicks and punches fly as Myst and The Director work Cambric into a corner! Oz and Jennie look confused by the sudden outbreak of violence, but Charlie urges them to join the fray…

And join the fray they do!

JR: And now they’re getting rid of Holly Cambric! Just like they did Solomon Kline!

JC: Damn it, no! Someone needs to stop these monsters, they’re on a rampage tonight! First it was the Hixx sisters, then Game Girl- and now they’re going after their own doctor! This is madness!

JR: This isn’t Madness….THIS IS WARFARE!

Oz comes flying into the corner with a massive frogsplash that rocks Cambric’s socks off. Then, Jennie Nickles comes in with a flying elbow that forces Cambric to the bottom rung of the turnbuckle!

Then, they drag Holly Cambric out to the center of the ring and everyone begins laying boot to ass!

Everyone but Charlie, who’s just smirking in the corner while the gang puts in work.

Until that smirk suddenly vanishes from his face!

[video=youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9sZ5xTY8OMY[/youtube]

The lights go out. Fire surrounds the stage. The X-Tron flickers to life. A heartbeat monitor flatlines. Beep.

“Antivist” by Bring Me The Horizon blasts throughout the arena.

MIDDLE FINGERS UP, IF YOU DON’T GIVE A FUCK!

A figure steps out from the entrance, black balaclava on his face and walking with crutches.

JC: Is that?!

JR: I’m not a betting man, unless it’s with DraftKings, go to DraftKings.com and use promo code XWF1999 to get 99 cents in free bets! If I was, I’d say that’s…

He rips off the mask and moves toward the ring on crutches.

JC: It’s “Psycho” Solomon!

JR: I was gonna say that, Juciunde! Last time we saw him was about a month ago when he was laid out by an unknown attacker in some sort of an inside job![/i]

In the ring, Charlie Nickles, Jennie Nickles, Jenny Myst, Oz and the Director are still attacking Holly Cambric, but they look up at Solomon, who is almost to the ring.

IF YOU REALLY BELIEVE IN THE WORDS THAT YOU PREACH

GET OFF YOUR SCREENS AND ONTO THE STREETS! THERE WILL BE NO PEACEFUL REVOLUTION!

NO WAR WITHOUT BLOOD!

The lyrics echo as Solomon enters the ring. His former stable mates look up at him, not sure what to make of it all. Solomon looks at Holly lying on the mat, gasping for air. He then looks at Jenny Myst, drops the crutches and runs toward her. Spear! Solomon takes down the XWF icon! But then The Director kicks Solomon in the gut, causing him to double over. The Director grabs his whip and draws it back. Solomon rolls, grabs a crutch from the bottom and lifts it up, just in time to block the Director’s whip!

The whip wraps around the crutch and Solomon yanks it toward himself, freeing the whip from the Director’s grasp. Solomon, looking crazed, pulls the whip off the crutch and wields both, begging the rest of the group to try him. Still outnumbered, but dual wielding, he cracks the whip toward Oz, who rolls under the ropes to avoid it. Charlie charges and eats a crutch to the side of the head! Then, Jennie Nickles slides out of the ring before she can eat the same!

Jenny Myst is up and the newly formed tag team of Jenny Myst and the Director start to circle Solomon like vultures. Jenny grabs the end of the crutch and tries to wrench it away. While he’s distracted, The Director steals back his whip. Solomon and Jenny are still playing tug-o-war with the crutch as the Director hits the Small Print on Solomon!

Jenny grabs the crutch, points and laughs at Solomon on the mat. She brings the crutch down like a hammer on the injured leg of Solomon, still in a brace! The Director raises the whip…

Silence. No crack of the whip. A masked man has grabbed the whip from behind.

[white]JC: That’s the Revolution champion and former Anarchy tag team champion with The Director!

JR: It’s XXXVI!

The Director turns to face his weapon. Superkick to Jenny from Solomon! The Director gets in the face of XXXVI. XXXVI doesn’t back down.

Clothesline by Solomon from behind, taking down the Director! XXXVI grabs the whip. Solomon grabs the crutch and together they chase off Jenny and The Director! XXXVI takes a bow and leaves the ring. Solomon takes a microphone.

“Psycho” Solomon: Las Vegas! Boy am I glad to see you! In my absence, I’ve had a lot of time to think and I know I lost a piece of myself at Relentless. I became bitter and shitty and I hurt a lot of people I love. I can’t take back what’s done, but what I can do is work toward a better tomorrow. I talked to my doctors and did all the tests and I’m cleared, baby!

PS: I’m taking my meds, on a regimen and I think I’m beginning to remember who I always was, before things went south. Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Solomon Kline and I want nothing more than an opportunity to prove myself in the greatest tournament in professional wrestling. I hereby declare my return to compete in March Madness!

The crowd goes wild!

SK: Thank you, Las Vegas and XWF Universe. Oh and one more thing. Charlie Nickles…go fuck yourself!

He drops the mic and celebrates with the paying fans cheering for him! Charlie Nickels is seething on the outside, surrounded by his brotherhood as he’s shouting incomprehensibly to them!

JC: Well, you gotta give it Solomon Kline. It takes guts to come out here on your own, and with a crutch in hand, fight off an entire group-

JR: Look out! From behind!

CHARLIE NICKELS!

JENNIE NICKELS!

JENNY MYST!

THE DIRECTOR!

AND MISTER OZ!

ALL FOUR STORM THE RING AT THE SAME TIME TO GO BACK TO SNEAK ATTACKING SOLOMON KLINE! KLINE IS SWINGING HIS CRUTCH LIKE A MADMAN TO GIVE BACK, BUT HE’S OUTNUMBERED!

JC: These four are like hyenas!

JR: ‘Strength in numbers’ is a common saying, Jack, and we’re seeing why right now! Even a weapon can’t help that much!

SCOOPS MCGEE RUSHES DOWN TO THE RING WITH A FULL HEAD OF STEAM AS THE CROWD GOES BALLISTIC!

JC: SCOOPS MCGEE! Fresh off the performance of a lifetime at Snow Pain, Snow Gain! We’re gonna be seeing him later tonight challenge for the Television title, but he’s moving like a man possessed right now!

JR: He’s walking into a warzone right now though, and he’s outnumbered!

Scoops slides in the ring and immediately ducks an incoming monster lariat from Mister Oz, and instead LUNGES at Charlie with a jumping shoulder block!

Both men go down as Scoops lays down some heavy blows onto Charlie, but he immediately gets pulled off by both Jennie and Jenny!

The Director has Scoops in his sights and goes for a hard shot to the skull-

BUT SOLOMON KLINE CRACKS HIS CRUTCH ACROSS THE DIRECTOR’S BACK AS HE FALLS TO HIS KNEES!

Scoops stomps on Jennie’s foot! He pulls Jenny in for a sharp headbutt between the eyes!

JC: These two are giving as good as they’re getting right now!

JR: Hey, is that who I think it is coming nearby at ringside?!

It’s Amber Mansley! She slides in to ringside without a trace, two kendo sticks in hand, and immediately tries to help out the still-loopy Game Girl as she gives her one of the sticks!

Scoops and Kline share an unhealthy silence as they glare at each other, neither one fully trusting the other.

But their moment is quickly interrupted by Mister Oz who takes them BOTH down with a double lariat! Both men take a hard fall as Oz puts Scoops onto his shoulders! AND he puts Kline right on top of Scoops!

JC: That strength of Oz is freakish! He’s carrying around both men like they’re ragdolls!

JR: Scoops is about to get squashed like a bug before his big main event match with Centurion!

AMBER MANSLEY AND GAME GIRL COME INTO THE RING ON OPPOSITE SIDES! AND THEY START WHALLOPING OZ WITH THE KENDO STICKS!

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

OZ IS GETTING TREATED LIKE A PINATA, BUT JENNY MYST GOES RIGHT FOR GAME GIRL! AND JENNIE NICKELS MAKES A BEELINE RIGHT FOR MANSLEY!

The Director tries to get some payback towards Solomon Kline for the earlier crutch shot, and in the middle of the ring, Scoops and Charlie go back and forth, just like their Universal title match!

JC: It’s chaos right now in the middle of the ring! The House of Hardcore - with Solomon Kline - are trying to take it to Charlie Nickels and his so-called Brotherhood!

JR: They’re still outnumbered though, Jack! And when Oz wakes back up…

As if right on cue, his body battered red from the repeated kendo stick shots, Oz stands tall as he lets loose a death roar that shakes the arena by its foundation!

But then…

JC: THAT’S THE SOUND OF A CALAMITY RIGHT THERE!

DICKIE WATSON! THE FORMER UNIVERSAL CHAMPION, IS HERE!

HE RUNS DOWN THE RAMP WITH A FULL HEAD OF STEAM, EYEING UP MISTER OZ, BEFORE HE SPRINGBOARDS RIGHT OFF THE ROPES TO HIT HIM WITH A FRONT DROPKICK!

THE IMPACT STAGGERS OZ BACK, FORCING HIM BACK THROUGH THE ROPES AND TO THE FLOOR!

Dickie’s presence galvanizes the others as they move together!

Kline cracks the Director over the skull with another crutch shot!

Mansley tugs the top rope down to send a charging Jennie Nickels out of the ring!

Game Girl swings the kendo stick round-and-round like a Merry-Go-Round to crack Jenny Myst as she runs out of the ring!

Scoops pulls Charlie in by the wrist!

CATTLE PROD-

BUT CHARLIE DUCKS UNDERNEATH IT! HE QUICKLY SCAMPERS OUT OF THE RING TO JOIN HIS BROTHERHOOD AS THE TIDES HAVE FULLY TURNED!

SCOOPS AND DICKIE STARE DAGGERS AT EACH OTHER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING NOW! THE FANS ARE WATCHING WITH BAITED BREATH!

JC: Neither of these men look thrilled to see each other.

JR: They just went to war over the Universal Championship, Jack! Dickie knows good and well how Scoops McGee pinned him! And then he LOST the chance to win to Kieran on top of that?!

Suspense hangs throughout the air as Game Girl looks at the two of them with pleading eyes…

…

DICKIE WATSON EXTENDS A HAND TO SCOOPS!

SCOOPS TAKES ONE LONG LOOK AT THE HAND!

AND SHAKES IT!

JC: Not as you said, Joe! The House of Hardcore stands united!

JR: Who knows if they can really trust each other at the end of the day, though?

Game Girl is jumping for joy while Amber Mansley nods appreciatively! The four round together, talking low enough for the camera to not hear, as Kline watches from afar in his own corner.

The four turn towards Kline.

A nod gets exchanged between the groups.

“We’ll be seein’ you in March Madness, boah!” Scoops shouted towards Kline.

“Good luck!” :) Game Girl gleefully adds as the four begin to make their way out of the ring together.

Solomon Kline smiles towards the group as Warfare fades to commercial.

The crowd roars to life as the familiar theme for Centurion plays. Out from the back steps Centurion, wearing his trademark wrestling attire and holding the Television Title over his shoulder.

JC: Here he comes! Centurion! The XWF Legend! Still going strong and adding yet another title reign to his absolutely unmatchable record of accomplishments in his XWF career!

JR: Most wins for a competitor in all of XWF history, Jacuinde! You’d think for a champ of his caliber, they could get a belt that doesn’t look like it got fished out of a computer still running on Windows 95!

JC: The belt is certainly… visually striking! But to Cent, it’s a statement! A reminder to the wrestling world of how good this business is and has always been without corporate interference! And a reminder to the XWF’s Trillionaires ownership group that this business thrived before you and it will thrive after you!

Centurion looks to storm down the ramp as he usually does, but he stops towards the top to look out into the crowd and soak in the chants from the crowd in attendance. He cracks a slight smile before continuing to the ring. He slides in and gestures to ringside for a mic, which he is given. He looks at his title one last time before raising the mic to his lips and looking out into the crowd.

Centurion ©
- vs -
Scoops McGee
15 Minute Time Limit

SUMMARY

Centurion and Scoops meet in the center and immediately start trading forearms, stiff and ugly. Scoops’ left arm snaps through first, cracking against Cent’s jaw. Cent answers with a sharp elbow, then another, each one placed with surgical intent.

JR: These dudes are built different, man. That’s farm strength versus old-man jiu-jitsu rage!

Scoops shoves Cent into the corner and unloads — forearm, forearm, forearm — until Cent ducks one, slips out, and plants Scoops with a standing dropkick that knocks him through the ropes and to the floor.

Cent doesn’t follow right away. He watches. Measures. Then slides out and immediately rams Scoops spine-first into the barricade.

13:42
13:41
13:40

Centurion grabs Scoops by the arm and going to Irish whip him back towards the apron..,

…But Scoops slams on the brakes, and reverses! He whips Cent around toward the apron!

…No, he twists Cent around! And whips him straight over the barricade and into the front row!

The crowd roars as Cent gets sent flying into the XWF Universe!

JC: Giving the front row fans their money’s worth tonight, Joe!

JR: Cent’s already a grumpy guy around most people, now he’s around a bunch of fans willing to pay top dollar to see him up close! And now he’s as close as he can be!

Security manages to get the fans to back away from the TV champ as Cent shakes his head, pulling himself up to his feet…

Inside the ring, the official has started a ten count for both competitors!

JR: Oh shut that guy up! There’s no way the first ever showdown between two legends like Scoops and Cent should end in a double count-out! Let them fight!

JC: He’s just maintaining the rules here, Joe! And the rules say these two need to take this one back into the ring!

Cent pulls himself up to the barricade… Scoops is ready, grabbing him by the scruff of his head, looking to deliver a shot to the temple…

But Cent’s ready, firing off a right hand that drives Scoops staggering back against the apron!

JC: What a shot by Cent!

Scoops shakes off cobwebs after that strike, rolling back under the bottom rope as the official hits six…

Cent climbs over the barricade as the official hits seven…

Inside the ring Scoops keeps gathering his composure, working his way to a vertical base…

Cent darts to the ring, and rolls under the bottom rope, beating the count at eight!

JC: Surprisingly rookie move by Cent! If he took the count-out, he’d leave with that ugly as sin TV title!

JR: Cent’s always been the type to be a fighting champ! He’d rather defend it the right way and lose than the wrong way and artificially stretch his reign!

The moment Cent’s back in the ring, he darts after Scoops, still climbing to a vert-

…Wait, Scoops is ready! He turns himself on a dime, grabbing Cent by the neck!

Jawbreaker! Followed by a…

Snapmare! Cent tumbles over Scoops’ shoulder, straight onto his ass!

Scoops builds up a head of steam, scuttling across the ring, bouncing off the ropes!

Running boot straight to Cent’s face! Cent drops from a seated position flat onto his back!

[whiet]JC: Great sequence by Scoops McGee there!

JR: Scoops’ grandpa run is something else, but I gotta admit, that was an effective chain of moves there!

Scoops goes into a cover, driving his forearm into Cent’s face!

ONE—
Cent kicks out!

JC: Cent looking defiant here! Not even letting Scoops get to two!

10:51
10:50
10:49

Scoops doesn’t argue. He just nods and hauls Cent up again, attempting a Scoop Slam — but Cent shifts his weight, drops behind, and snaps off a Saito Suplex that folds Scoops nearly in half!

JC: Wow! What a counter by Cent there!

JR: Cent’s learned more suplex varieties over his career than some people know words in the English language! Absolutely masterful counter by the Television champ!

Cent doesn’t waste time. He yanks Scoops up off the mat, gripping McGee by the top of his head…

WHAM! Cent drives a knee into the ribs — then another — before blasting him with a V Trigger that sends Scoops rolling to the ropes!

JC: Wow! Cent is giving Scoops the hardest shots Scoops has had to deal with… maybe since his days in Japan!

JR: I thought these two guys respected each other! Cent’s knocking the taste out of Scoops’ mouth like Scoops cracked wise on Cent’s mother!

JC: This is how the true greats show each other respect, Joe! By not leeting up even an inch!

Scoops looks woozy after Cent’s vicious elbow strike, Scoops rebounds off…

Cent leaps through the air, looking to follow with a…

Bloody Symphony! (Busaiku Flying Knee)

but Scoops lunges forward at the last second and cuts him out of the air with a stiff left forearm, that sends Cent straight at the mat like a swatted fly!

CATTLE PROD!

[OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The building reacts to that stiff-as-FUCK shot!

JC: Cent just got SCOOPED!

Scoops staggers back, shaking out his arm, then charges… Cent rolls off his stomach…

But Scoops is on him, raining down mounted punches, each one heavier than the last.

8:01
8:00
7:59

Scoops pulls Cent up off the mat and signals for The Big Scoop — the crowd rises!

JC: Scoops is calling for the end here!

JR: Cent said there was no way either of these guys was beating the other in fifteen… but Scoops is going for the killshot with half the time left on the clock!

Scoops hoists Cent into piledriver position…

…But Cent kicks his legs and slips out of Scoops’ grip, sliding off the back!

Before Scoops can turn around, Cent’s got Scoops from behind!

1000 MILE SLAM!

The crowd explodes off their feet!

JC: Oh shit! Cent hit it! Cent hit the 1000 Mile Slam! This would be an upset!

Scoops rolls twice off the mat towards the ropes as Cent stretches his shoulder… he crawls across the ring to make the cov-

…Scoops rolls again! Under the bottom rope!

JC: Wily veteran move by Scoops here! Buying himself some recovery time!

JR: Between these two, they both know every trick in the book!

6:54
6:53
6:52

Scoops rolls out, landing on his feet, dropping to one knee, clingin to the apron as he shakes off cobwebs…

Cent scrambles back to his feet, not wanting to give Scoops even a moment to recover! He runs backwards toward the ropes… He goes for a…

BASEBALL SLIDE TO SCOOPS’ BACK!

…

But Scoops sidesteps it!

JR: What the?!?! How did Scoops know how to avoid that? Does he have eyes in the back of his head?!?

JC: Years of experience, Joe! You get kicked in the back of the head enough times, your body learns the tricks to avoid it happening any more than it has to!

Cent’s boots shoot by Scoops’s skull, Cent slides out of the ring….

And Scoops is ready, shoving off the apron!

CLOTHESLINE FROM HELL! CENT DOES A FULL FLIP THROUGH THE AIR, LANDING FLAT ON HIS FACE ON THE PADDED CONCRETE!

JC: WOW!

The crowd leaps to their feet cheering this brutal battle!

FIGHT FOREVER *clap clap clapclapclap*

FIGHT FOREVER *clap clap clapclapclap*

JC: The fans are letting it be known! They want this fight to go on all night!

JR: Well, they can chant all they want, but the clock keeps ticking!

5:19
5:18
5:17

Scoops cranked his neck, before grabbing Cent by the hair and rolling him back under the bottom rope…

Cent rolls twice before winding up on his back, looking like he might not know which way is up!

Scoops follows under the bottom rope and hooks the leg!

ONE—
TWO—
NO!

Centurion kicks out!... And immediately rolls onto his stomach, clutching his side!

JC: Clever move by Cent! Blocking Scoops from following up with another pin attempt!

JR: It’s like a hermit crab defense, crawling into its shell! But Scoops is a hammer that’s gonna crack that shell wide open!!

Scoops snarls and yanks Cent up by the arm, looking for his patented Big Scoop — but Cent plants his feet, fires an elbow back!

Scoops staggers back a step after taking an elbow to the chin!

Cent spins — standing dropkick! Scoops stumbles back into the ropes!

Scoops staggers forward… right into Cent’s arms! Cent loads Scoops into a fireman’s carry!

SMART BOMB!

Death Valley Driver! Cent plants Scoop dead-center in the ring!

The crowd ERUPTS!

JC: SMART BOMB! CENT HIT IT!

JR: That’s it! That’s gotta be—]

Cent dives into the cover!

ONE—
TWO—
THR—NO!

Scoops gets the shoulder up at the last possible instant!

3:42
3:41
3:40

Cent sits back on his knees, eyes wide, chest heaving. He looks up at the clock, then down at Scoops — frustration starting to creep in!

JR: What the Hell’s bothering Cent, Jacuinde? Time’s on his side! He even called this one was gonna be a time limit draw!

JC: But you know Cent can feel it! He’s close! He can put away a fellow legend! And a victory in a match like this is sweet as the sweetest nectar!

Cent hauls Scoops up off the mat… but Scoops standing switches… heaves Cent off his feet… snaps off a shinbreaker, dropping Cent’s shin hard across his own knee! Cent cradles his leg…

But Scoops immediately follows with a Boston Crab, sitting deep on it!

Cent screams, pounding the mat, crawling inch by inch toward the ropes!

JC: Holy COW! Scoops went from looking beaten to inches from victory! That’s what makes him so dangerous… he’s never beat and he’s always just one good sequence from taking the win!

JR: That’s exactly how he beat SEB, Jacuinde! Refusing to stay down and swinging until he caught SEB once and never letting up after!

The crowd rallies! Screaming at the top of their lungs! Half for Scoops to finish it, the other half for Cent to hold on for dear life!

2:29
2:28
2:27

Cent’s arms shake…

He shoves off the mat!

Cent reaches–
Scoops drags him back to the center!
Re-sits!

[white]JC: Cent’s in trouble here!

JR: That lower back is already wrecked! This could be it!

Cent’s arm is shaking… Scoops tries to plant his ass on Cent’s back, trapping him against the mat…

Cent digs deep, rolling his hips, twisting — and kicks Scoops square in the face to break the hold!

Both men collapse.

1:46
1:45
1:44

They slowly push themselves up on opposite sides of the ring, eyes locked. Sweat, blood, exhaustion.

They charge.

FOREARM by Scoops!
ELBOW by Cent!
FOREARM!
ELBOW!

Scoops winds up — CATTLE PROD!

Cent stumbles—but stays upright!

Cent roars and fires back with a V TRIGGER!

Scoops drops to one knee!

Cent grabs him—
1000 MILE SLAM AGAIN!

JC: OH MY GOD! AGAIN! AGAAAAIN!

JR: That’s gotta do it… That’s just… C’mon that’s gotta be it!

Cent collapses into the cover, barely able to hook the leg!

ONE—
TWO—

THREEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
SCOOPS!

KICKS!

OUT!

The arena LOSES it.

[white]JC: HOW?!

JR: These guys are running on fumes and hate right now!]

0:54
0:53
0:52

Cent slaps the mat in disbelief. He looks up at the clock. Panic flickers across his face for the first time.

Scoops rolls toward the ropes, dragging himself up. Cent charges — Scoops ducks!

Scoops spins—

SAITO SUPLEX!

Both men crash down again!

Scoops crawls into a cover of his own!

ONE—
TWO—
CENT ROLLS THROUGH!

Cent stacks him up!

ONE—
TWO—
Scoops rolls the shoulder!

Scoops counters into his own cradle!

ONE—
TWO—
Cent kicks out!

Both men scramble to their feet—

0:17
0:16
0:15

JC: Oh God! I’m on the crowd’s side! Don’t stop this one!

JR: It’s now or never! Someone’s gotta take this one!

Scoops goes for a Cattle Prod!

…But Cent ducks it!

He drives his head under Scoops’ shoulder for a…

THIRD 1000 MILE SL-

…No! Scoops slips out the back!

0:06
0:05

Scoops hoists Cent into the air into a piledriver!

0:04
0:03

BIG SCOOP!

The crowd explodes!

JC: HE DID IT! SCOOPS HAS GOT IT! WE’VE GOT A NEW TELEVISION CHAMPION!

Scoops crawls into the cover!

ONE!

T-

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!

TIME LIMIT DRAW

JC: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Why the Hell would they only give this classic fifteen minutes!?!

JR: Both Scoops and Cent went to war! Scoops hit a big move… Would that have done it?!? Or would Cent have kicked out?

JC: One thing’s for sure, these two HAVE to go at it again! And soon!

The crowd is still buzzing with excitement… Scoops weaves his hand through his hair… looking frustrated… As Cent cradles his gut on the mat, crawling arm over arm upright…

The two stare at each other… clearly neither satisfied with this uncertain ending…

As the scene fades to black…

THANKS TO OUR MATCH WRITERS

PETER PRINCIPLE
LIAM DESMOND
‘BIG’ DICK LICHTER

OUR SEGMENT WRITERS

KIERAN KING
CHARLIE NICKLES

AND EVERYONE WHO RP’D!

]]>

February - 9 - 2025

LIVE FROM T-MOBILE ARENA

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

Samael Dyson
- vs -
Razor Blade
Street Fight

'Dark Warrior' Micheal Graves
- vs -
R.L. Edgar
X-Treme Rules

Centurion ©
- vs -
Scoops McGee
15 Minute Time Limit

''Adrenaline, in my soul
Every thought out of control
Do it all to get them off their feet''

''Crowd is here, about to blow
waitin' for me to start the show
out the curtain, lights go up I'm home
Whoooooooooooooa!''

…

XWF Xtreme Championship

Samael Dyson©
- vs -
Razor Blade

Street FightXtreme Rules

HIGHLIGHT REEL

!

The entire

into his hands!

Blade charg-

WHAM! The

hits Blade straight in the skull!

JC: OH GOD!

Blade is unconscious… and smells vaguely of

.

Samael FALLS ON TOP OF HIM, cackling, hooking nothing, just collapsing—

The referee slides back in—

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

WINNER AND STILL XWF X-TREME CHAMPION: Samael Dyson

!

JC: Stop saying it!

JR: It’s bleeped! The audience can’t hear!

JC: But I can, Joe!

R.L. Edgar is already in the ring.

'Dark Warrior' Micheal Graves
- vs -
R.L. Edgar
X-Treme Rules

Winner: ‘Dark Warrior’ Micheal Graves

Jenny Myst and The Director
- vs -
Latoya Hixx and Deena Hixx
SPECIAL GUEST REFEREE: Game Girl

WINNERS by pinfall - Jenny Myst & The Director

[video=youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9sZ5xTY8OMY[/youtube]

Centurion ©
- vs -
Scoops McGee
15 Minute Time Limit

SUMMARY

13:42
13:41
13:40

10:51
10:50
10:49

8:01
8:00
7:59

6:54
6:53
6:52

5:19
5:18
5:17

3:42
3:41
3:40

2:29
2:28
2:27

1:46
1:45
1:44

0:54
0:53
0:52

0:17
0:16
0:15

0:06
0:05

Scoops hoists Cent into the air into a piledriver!

0:04
0:03

BIG SCOOP!

The crowd explodes!

JC: HE DID IT! SCOOPS HAS GOT IT! WE’VE GOT A NEW TELEVISION CHAMPION!

Scoops crawls into the cover!

ONE!

T-

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!

TIME LIMIT DRAW

THANKS TO OUR MATCH WRITERS

PETER PRINCIPLE
LIAM DESMOND
‘BIG’ DICK LICHTER

OUR SEGMENT WRITERS

KIERAN KING
CHARLIE NICKLES

AND EVERYONE WHO RP’D!

]]> <![CDATA[WARFARE - January 5th, 2026]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49628 Tue, 06 Jan 2026 10:35:26 -0800 Peter Principle]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49628

January - 5 - 2025

LIVE FROM ROCKET ARENA

CLEVELAND OHIO

Scoops McGee
- vs -
Isaiah King
X-Treme Rules

Samael Dyson
- vs -
The Director
THE DIRECTOR'S CUT:

The match takes place on a soundstage, in front of a live studio audience! AND BARBED-WIRE IS EVERYWHERE!

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

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Charlie Nickles
Singles

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

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

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

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

JC: Joe, no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jenny smiles.

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

JENNY MYST: Listen to yourselves.

The crowd gets louder. She laughs into it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She taps the title.

JENNY MYST: You let it rot.

She steps closer to the hard camera now.

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

She lowers the mic slightly, eyes cold.

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

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

She leans into it.

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

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

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

She nods, approving.

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

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

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

A sharp laugh.

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

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

JENNY MYST: And you ran me out of here.

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

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

She shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

She flips her hair.

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

The heat is nuclear now.

Charlie grins. The Corporation stands tall behind her.

Jenny doesn’t raise her voice this time.

She raises her disdain.

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

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

The crowd reacts, confused, still hostile.

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

A smirk.

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

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

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

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

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

She taps her chest once.

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

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

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

Her jaw tightens.

JENNY MYST: I came back without it.

Jenny lifts the mic one last time.

No pacing. No theatrics. Just venom.

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

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

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

A beat.

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

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

JENNY MYST: And to the XWF roster…

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

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

No pause for reaction. She keeps going.

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

She shakes her head slowly.

JENNY MYST: I’m not here for competition.

Her smile finally returns—thin, cruel.

JENNY MYST: I’m here for heat.

She drops the mic at her feet.

The music hits. The boos hit harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING DING DING

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

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

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

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

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

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

The arena lights go dark. A single gold spotlight shines on the stage as the opening notes of King Kunta echoes through the air, the bass kicks in, adn the screen behind the entrance ramp flashes with stark, bold letters:

DO YOU SEE ME NOW?

The silhouette of Isaiah King stands at the top of the ramp, first clenched at his sides, head bowed slightly. His championship belt is slung over his left shoulder, a king with a crown but no kingdom. He has on a black leather coat that cuts off at the top of his white wrestling boots. The long coat has a cracked crown embossed on it's back.

I've got a bone to pick!

Isaiah lifts his head, eyes longed on the ring. The gold spotlight follows his every step as he strides down the ramp, slow and methodical, like a predator closing in on his prey. Hopping onto the ring apron, he holds onto the top rope and stares into the crown, taking in the mixture of boos and cheers coming his way. Sliding through the top and middle rope, he places his title gently down at a corner, before draping his coat against it. He then walks to the center of the ring, spinning in a circle before pointing to his chest - he mouths:

"You thought I was done?"

Bringing his arms across his chest before shooting them down, he lets out a short, emphatic animalistic howl into the air before turning to face his opponent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They meet in the center.

No lock-up.

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

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

The crowd detonates.

JC: CATTLE PROD! He clipped him clean!

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

BANG-BANG-BANG!

JAB! JAB! JAB!

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

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

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

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

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

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

ISAIAH CATCHES THE LEG!

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

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

Scoops’s eyes narrow.

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

Lou Thesz Press!

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

Isaiah bucks hard, shoves Scoops off, pops up…

ROLLING ELBOW!!!!!

Scoops ducks, spins - - -

MERRY-GO-ROUND!

Spinning toe hold!

Isaiah’s legs scissor, he goes down hard!

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

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

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

Scoops follows.

Bad idea.

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

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

THUD-THUD-THUD

…like he’s tenderizing meat.

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

Scoops swings wild-

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

Scoops spills to a knee, coughing, eyes watering.

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

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

Scoops plants his boot. Stops.

Scoops pivots, grabs Isaiah’s wrist…

And yanks him forward into a PRAIRIE DOG!

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

JC: AMONG WILLOWS - - - NO!

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

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

Scoops crawls first.

Isaiah is slow to rise.

Scoops reaches under the ring.

And the crowd immediately starts chanting:

“WE WANT TABLES!”

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

“WE WANT TABLES!”

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

Scoops pulls out a chair.

Then another.

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

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

He grunts, stumbles, gets another to the back.

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

Isaiah drops to one knee.

Scoops winds up for his signature - - -

CATTLE PROD!!!!

That short-arm left forearm swings in- - -

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

Isaiah’s eyes flash - - -

ROYAL VERDICT.

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

Scoops gets hit so clean his whole body goes quiet.

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

Rocket Arena loses its mind.

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

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

Isaiah drops into a cover, smug.

ONE- - -

TWO- - -

Scoops kicks out!!!

Not pretty. Not strong. Just survival.

A boot drags free like a man refusing to die.

Isaiah sits back on his heels, offended.

He stands, points at Scoops.

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

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

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

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

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

He bounces off, breathless.

Isaiah steps in for another jab combo.

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

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

Isaiah snarls.

Scoops tosses the chair aside, grabs Isaiah - - -

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

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

Scoops drops a knee.

Then another.

Old-man brutality.

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

Scoops goes under the ring again.

He pulls out a table.

The Cleveland crowd goes insane!

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

He turns around - - -

Isaiah King is already up!

HE CHARGES!! Step-up - - -

ENZUIGIRI!!!!!!

The boot cracks Scoops behind the ear.

Scoops stumbles into the table and catches himself on it.

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

Body blow, body blow, body blow!

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

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

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

Scoops grabs him from behind.

SHINBREAKER!!!

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

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

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

Isaiah’s knee twists, his face tightens.

Scoops releases and stands.

The crowd rises.

Isaiah drags himself up on the ropes.

Scoops sprints…

RUNNING HIP ATTACK TO THE CORNER!!!!!

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

Scoops turns and points at the table.

He wants to put Isaiah through!

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

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

Isaiah slips behind, and -

SPINEBUSTER!!!!!

Scoops gets driven down so hard the ring shakes.

Isaiah’s chest heaves. He wipes his mouth.

Then he drags Scoops toward the table.

Scoops clutches at the mat, crawling, refusing.

Isaiah yanks him up - - -

Scoops swings his forearm again - - -

Isaiah ducks it and hooks the waist!

Gutwrench powerbomb position.

JC: Oh my God…

Isaiah hoists Scoops up!!!

Scoops’s legs kick once.

Isaiah steps forward

Scoops desperately reaches out and hooks the top rope.

Isaiah rips him free anyway- - -

Scoops drops behind him on landing and shoves

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

Scoops staggers back.

Isaiah turns, furious.

Scoops charges…

Shoulder tackle through the ropes!

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

Scoops doesn’t follow immediately.

He pauses.

Hands on knees.

Breathing heavy.

Age showing.

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

Scoops steps out… slowly.

Isaiah is already rising.

He throws a jab!

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

Scoops leans over the apron and reaches under again.

This time he pulls out something shiny

The crowd reacts before we even see it.

A trash can!!!

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

THUNK.

Again.

THUNK.

Isaiah staggers blindly, metal wobbling.

Scoops winds up…

ONE MORE - - -

[white]JC:NOOOOOOO!!!!

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

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

They’re standing on the apron now, precarious.

Isaiah hooks Scoops’ head.

Spinning motion.

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

THE KING’S DECREE - - - !

Isaiah spins for the impaler DDT!!!

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

The table detonates.

Isaiah disappears into splinters.

Cleveland erupts!!!!

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

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

JR: That’s insane, Jackie!

Scoops rolls in slowly, dragging himself to Isaiah.

He throws an arm over the chest.

ONE!!!

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

JR: It’s gotta’ be over!

ISAIAH KICKS OUT!!!!!!

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

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

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

Isaiah doesn’t rush.

He sits up in the wreckage of the broken table.

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

He looks at Scoops.

Smiling.

Slowly, Isaiah plants one boot.

Then the other.

He stands.

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

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

Scoops folds inward with a sharp, animal sound.

Isaiah grabs him by the back of the head.

LIVER SHOT!!!!!!

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

The crowd shifts from roar to shock.

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

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

ROYAL VERDICT!!!!!!!!!

The discus punch detonates across Scoops’ jaw.

There is no sound from Scoops this time.

His legs betray him completely.

He collapses face-first into the mat.

Isaiah doesn’t cover.

He rolls Scoops over.

He positions him.

He hooks the head.

Spins.

THE KING’S DECREE.

Spinning Impaler DDT!!!!!

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

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

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

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

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

Winner: Isaiah King

The bell rings.

Cleveland is stunned into near silence!

JC: THAT’S IT!

THAT’S IT!

ISAIAH KING JUST PUT SCOOPS McGEE DOWN!

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

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

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

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

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

Isaiah doesn’t celebrate right away.

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

Then he rises.

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

Isaiah nods once for confirmation.

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

Isaiah backs into the ropes.

And then….

The music hits.

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

"She askin' “Why you say that?!”

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

"Rich kid asshole, paint me as a villain"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seb’s brow furrows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

APPLAUSE

BOOING

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

JC: They’ve seen worse in the XWF.

JR: Worse than hardcore porn?

JC: You should have been here 10 years ago.

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

“Hey!”

INSANE SPECIAL GUEST ACTOR LEVEL APPLAUSE

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

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

JC: …

“Let’s get this party started!”

Roseanne rolls her arm and-

DING! DING! DING!

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

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

OOOOOOOOOOH

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

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

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

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

YOWCH!

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

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

ONE!

TWO!

Samael throws a shoulder up!

THREE!

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

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

JR: Samael learned something from Arroyo there.

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

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

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

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

JC: This isn’t a match, it’s WAR!

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

The two lock eyes and charge!

Swinging wild hooks at one another!

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

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

Samael reels back!

And throws a punch with the gauntlet!

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

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

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

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

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

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

JC: The hell is he doing!?

And vomits over The Director!

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

JC: Oh that is disgusting!

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

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

JR: FLAMING THUMPER HEART PUNCH!!!!

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

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

And The Director falls still.

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

Winner: Samael Dyson

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

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

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

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

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

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

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

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

JC: Is that?

JR: The good doctor Holly Cambric!

JC: What’s she doing here?

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

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

JC: Direct hit!

JR: I see what you did there!

JC: What do you mean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WHACK! Jennie falls.

JC: It’s Clutch Cassidy!

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

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

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

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

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

JC: Absolute chaos here tonight in the arena.

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

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

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

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

JR: Well, she’s green!

…

JC: …And?

JR: And she’s dressed in black!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JR: And the other is a green lady!

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

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

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

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

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

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

JC: And two?

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

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

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

Suddenly, the bell rings!

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

SUMMARY

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

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

The moment the bell rings, it fucking KICKS OFF!

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

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

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

JC: A mysterious vial?!?

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she’s confused!

…Question mark? Question mark?

WHAM! Her fist flies into her own face!

JC: What the hell?!?

JR: GG hurt herself in her confusion!

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

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

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

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

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

Meanwhile, GG is no longer confused!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She raises her arms as it reaches a possible crescendo…

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

JC: Incredible hardiness on display by Game Girl!

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

JR: Incredible acrobatic athleticism!

Cent spins around, just as GG delivers a…

Screenshot 2026 01 06 113456

BOOM!

JC: What the hell just happened!

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

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

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

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

JC: This could be it!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JC: Amber Mansley is a one woman wrecking crew!

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

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

The crowd counts along!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FI-

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

JC: Incredible wherewithal by Centurion!

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

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

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

Cent groans… before begrudgingly climbing to the top rope!

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

Centurion readies the dive, going for a…

DOOMSDAY DEV-

…No!

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

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

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

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

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

[Image: full]

Hundred Hands Slaps!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

IS.

NOT.

DONE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s charged up….

ELECTRIC WIND GOD FIST!

…

MISS!

Cent manages to duck under!

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

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

ONE!

TWO!

THR-GG kicks out!

JC: Phew! Cent almost stole that one!

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

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

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

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

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

JC: The Wicked Witch takes out Amber!

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

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

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

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

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

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

The crowd pops!

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

They both Irish whip Cent…

DOUBLE-CLOTHESLINE! Cent drops onto his back…

Amber follows it up with a standing…

PICTURE-PERFECT MOONSAULT!

She covers Cent as Game Girl circles the pin defensively…

JC: This might be it! Cent looks rough!

JR: And the Witch is nowhere in sight!

ONE!

TWO!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Witch goes to strike Amber with a sudden boot!

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

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

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

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

Amber hucks Witch toward the ropes!

She reels back her arm!

SLAY BOO!

…

CONNECTS!

…

BUT BY THE WITCH ON AMBER!

JC: What?!?

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

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

Witch collapses onto Amber!

The official counts!

ONE!

Game Girl rises off the padded concrete!

TWO!

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

…

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

THREE!

Winner: Centurion and The Wicked Witch of Wrestling!

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

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bell rings—

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Charlie Nickles
Singles

HIGHLIGHT REEL

CRACK!

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

JC: Nickles not wasting a second!

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

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

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

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

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

But Dickie snaps his legs around Charlie’s head—

HURRICANRANA!

Nickles tumbles through the ropes to the floor!

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

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

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

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

Dickie explodes forward, diving through the ropes at Nickles!

SUICIDE DIVE!

…

NO! Nickles catches him mid-flight!

JC: Ohhh, no no no—!

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

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

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

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

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

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

BIG SIDEWALK SLAM… ONTO THE BARRICADE!

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

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

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

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

Nickles rolls Dickie back inside and goes for a cover.

ONE—
TWO—

Kickout!

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

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

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

STEUBENVILLE SCREWDRIVER!

…

No!

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

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

Charlie spins around as Divkie launches a…

CHOP!
CHOP!
SPINNING BACKFIST!

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

ROUNDHOUSE KICK!

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

SPRINGBOARD TORNADO DDT!

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

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

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

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

Dickie runs—

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

Dickie rebounds—

MILLENNIAL FALLOUT! Bridging German suplex!

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

ONE—
TWO—

Nickles powers out, shoving Dickie off him!

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

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

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

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

Dickie’s eyes are wide as Nickles swings wild—

Dickie ducks, cartwheels—

PELE KICK!

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

RUNNING CROSSBODY!

Nickles collapses seated. Dickie backs up, charges—

RISE TO GLORY! CURBSTOMP!

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

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

Dickie hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

Thr-KICKOUT!

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

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

Dickie climbs the ropes, breathing heavy.

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

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

Watson launches a…

SHOOTING STAR PRESS!

…NO!

Nickles gets the knees up!

Dickie crashes hard, cradling his ribs!

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

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

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

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

JC: This match is non-title, Rogan!

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

Nickles covers, hooking the leg on Watson!

ONE—
TWO—

Dickie kicks out!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dickie fires back—

OPEN-HANDED CHOP!

…For a moment, Charlie doubled over…

But, suddenly Nickles laughs and answers with a

BIG BOOT! that turns Dickie inside out!

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

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

A TABLE.

JC: Oh come on!

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

Dickie counters mid-lift!

DOUBLE KNEE GUTBUSTER!

JC: There’s still life in Dickie yet!

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

SPRINGBOARD FRONT DROPKICK!

Nickles slips backward!

And crashes through the table!

The crowd leaps to its feet!

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

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

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

He crawls atop his opponent…

And exhaustedly drapes an arm over Nickles…

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOO!

Charlie Nickles shoves a shoulder off the mat!

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

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

CALAMITY INSURANCE—

Nickles powers out, shoves Dickie into the ropes—

BIG LEG DROP!

Cover!

ONE—
TWO—

Dickie survives!

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

Nickles sits up, breathing heavy, eyes glassy.

Charlie slowly stands… then reaches down to his waist.

The crowd realizes it at the same time.

JC: No… no, no, no…

Nickles unbuckles his belt.

JR: This is who he is, man.

Dickie pulls himself up, barely standing.

Charlie swings the belt down on Dickie’s skull!

…

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

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

DICKIE’S REVENGE!

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

Dickie scrambles to a vertical b-

CRACK!

The belt lashes across Dickie’s ribs.

CRACK!

Across the back.

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

BELT-TO-ASS! Straight to the face!

Dickie collapses.

JC: Charlie Nickles has crossed the line here!

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

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

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Winner: Charlie Nickles!

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

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

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

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

Almost.

Then he looks up the ramp.

And smiles.

The arena lights flicker as movement erupts on the stage.

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

JENNY MYST!

The crowd erupts with boos as they flood the ring.

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

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

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

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

Then Jenny steps forward.

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

And then she drives a knee straight into his face!

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

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

He isn’t in a rage anymore.

This is his satisfaction.

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

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

The referee hesitates.

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

“Count it!”

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

He drops.

ONE!

The crowd explodes in disbelief.

TWO!

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

THREE!

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

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

JC: “You’ve gotta be kidding me…!”

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

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

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

But with ownership.

“There it is.”

He crouches beside the fallen champion.

“That’s the last one.”

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

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

Dickie’s eyes flutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The crowd buzzes, confused and furious.

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

He gestures to Oz. To Cambric. To Jenny.

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

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

“Snow Pain Snow Gain.”

The crowd roars.

“Me.

And-

You.

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

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

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

Charlie stands, eyes blazing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THANKS TO OUR MATCH WRITERS

Atticus Gold
‘Bashmaster’ Barry Masterson
John Black
Peter Principle

OUR SEGMENT WRITERS
Charlie Nickles / Doctor Holly Cambric / Jenny Myst
Isaiah King / SEB
The Director

AND EVERYONE WHO RP’D!

]]>

January - 5 - 2025

LIVE FROM ROCKET ARENA

CLEVELAND OHIO

Scoops McGee
- vs -
Isaiah King
X-Treme Rules

Samael Dyson
- vs -
The Director
THE DIRECTOR'S CUT:

The match takes place on a soundstage, in front of a live studio audience! AND BARBED-WIRE IS EVERYWHERE!

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

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Charlie Nickles
Singles

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

Winner: Isaiah King

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

APPLAUSE

BOOING

INSANE SPECIAL GUEST ACTOR LEVEL APPLAUSE

OOOOOOOOOOH

YOWCH!

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Winner: Samael Dyson

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

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

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

SUMMARY

Winner: Centurion and The Wicked Witch of Wrestling!

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

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Charlie Nickles
Singles

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Winner: Charlie Nickles!

]]> <![CDATA[THAR SHE SNOWS - DECEMBER 15TH, 2025]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49574 Wed, 17 Dec 2025 15:09:27 -0800 Peter Principle]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49574

December - 15 - 2025

LIVE FROM THE LYSEFJORD

LYSEFJORD, NORWAY

TV TITLE TOURNEY ROUND ONE
The Director
- vs -
Centurion
PIRATE BATTLE
Our Competitors will both captain ships with crews and arsenals they may specify during their RPs!

The two ships will meet off Norway’s northern coast! The Winner shall be the Captain who either sinks the other captain’s ship or manages to take control of their opponent’s vessel! SHIVER ME TIMBERS!

TV TITLE TOURNEY ROUND ONE
Amber Mansley
- vs -
Latoya Hixx
Treasure Hunt Match
The competitors meet at the island of Jan Mayen! The two will be equipped with shovels and treasure maps! The winner will be the first competitor to secure the buried treasure!

Kristoffer Arroyo
- vs -
Charlie Nickles
Rooftop Clatter Spectacular
The match takes place on the rooftop of Santa’s Workshop. The only way to win is by shoving your opponent down the chimney.

XWF Tag Team Championship
Sebastian Everett-Bryce and ??? ©
- vs -
Scoops McGee and Dickie Watson
Standard Tag INSIDE SANTA’S WORKSHOP
SEB may declare his partner in his RP

As Warfare comes live, a drone flies overhead, capturing the action as dozens of boats can be seen across the Lysefjord! The sun reflects off the ice and water like glass, and as it settles on a small yet comfortable cruise liner, hundreds of fans can be seen whooping and hollering in anticipation for tonight!

JC: Folks, I don’t think we’ve ever seen a Warfare quite like this! Forget a Warfare on a cruise ship, because it’s time for Warfare on a cruise fleet! I’m Jacuinde Castillo as always, and I’m joined here tonight by Joe Rogan!

JR: Folks, we’re back on the mainland reacting to this in real time, but I guess that’s all the better. I get pretty seasick pretty easily, and I don’t wanna let that get in the way of what’s gonna no doubt be an exciting night of action!

JC: You said it, Joe! We’ve got fans lined up across each of the ships and each of the landmasses the matches will be taking place in, so you better believe you’ll be able to hear the hype throughout tonight!

In the middle of the cruise liner stands the Universal Championship, held up on a pedestal! And before anything else can happen, the ship’s loudspeaker system comes to life as a familiar tune begins to blare!

JC: Scoops McGee is making his way out to the ring to start off Warfare! Folks, if you don’t know already, that man was the captain of the winning team at War Games, and directly led to Kieran King losing his Universal Championship!

JR: He wasn’t the sole survivor though, Jack, that’s for sure! Scoops made his way to the final four, but it was his teammate, Dickie Watson, who picked up the win!

Whether Scoops picked up the pinfall or not, that doesn’t change the fact that the fans on the ship are coming alive as they hear the legend’s music throughout the sea! And sure enough, coming from inside the hold is Scoops McGee himself! The fans cheer in unison as he looks out amongst the crowd, nodding in appreciation, before he starts walking his way towards the pedestal! He’s got a mic in hand and he’s about to use it as he saunters his way forward!

Scoops chuckles, spinning the mic around his finger for a minute, before he brings it up to his lips.

“Well, boahs,” Scoops begins, looking out across each and every one of the hundreds in attendance on the ship. “I dunno about you, but I’d say it’s a Christmas miracle that we got a new Universal champ right about now!”

BIG pop from the crowd in response!

JC: One thing’s for sure, this crowd hated Kieran King with every fiber of their beings!

JR: Not hard to see why, given half the things he says.

JC: Only half?

Scoops continued. “When I came into this company about a year ago now, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’ve been around the block. Tasted gold a couple times. Mixed ‘em up with the best and brightest this place had to offer. I won some, I lost some. But I can tell you one thing.”

“The best experience that I’ve had in this company… that I’ve had in years… was being able to captain my own team for War Games. And I know a huge part of that is that I couldn’t have been able to enjoy the success I had without the motley little crew I drafted to stand alongside me.”

“Me, Vidya Game Girl, Amber Mansley, and of course y’all know Dickie Watson-” Scoops pauses as the pops come after each name, “-we were like a well-oiled machine out there. The House of Hardcore, we knew we wanted to shake things up. We knew we wanted to make a name for ourselves and watch each other’s backs while we did it. And… it paid off. Because the man I stepped into the ring alongside for the finals, one of the toughest sumbitches I’ve ever seen in this business, got the job done and put King Jackass outta business.”

“DICK-IE! DICK-IE! DICK-IE! DICK-IE!”

The chant rings out across the sea as Scoops nods along with them, the smile still on his face.

“That’s right! Miss Mansley’s getting ready for her tournament match tonight, and Vidya Game Girl’s resting at home right about now, but y’all deserve to talk to the man himself. Put a hand together for your NEW Universal Champ… Dickie Watson!”

And the ship comes UNGLUED! Dickie Watson follows out of the same entrance to the hold that Scoops came out of, and he takes a moment to drink in the applause! He takes a deep breath, collecting himself as he comes right to the middle of the surface!

He shakes Scoops’ hand, the two sharing a quiet minute together before Dickie comes right to the pedestal holding the Universal Championship! He takes the big gold belt into his hands, staring into the metallic reflection looking back at him, a somber note in his eyes…

BEFORE HE RAISES THE BELT UP HIGH!

“DICK-IE! DICK-IE! DICK-IE! DICK-IE!”

JC: I can barely hear myself think right now, Joe…

JR: Can you remember the last time a crowd this small was this loud?

JC: Not in a white…

Dickie rests the Universal title on his shoulder, before finally speaking into his own microphone.

“If I can be quite honest with you all for a minute…” Dickie gave a wistful smile, beginning to pace back and forth. “There’s a part of this that still doesn’t feel real to me.

“It wasn’t that long ago that I felt like I was on the outs with a lot of things. Losing my way in different companies in this industry. Falling from grace. Even when I came into XWF looking for a new beginning, it was touch-and-go for a while. I took a number of big hits while I tried to find just what I was capable of.”

Dickie paused, exhaling slightly as the crowd was hanging on his every word. [font=Lora]“Most men would have quit. There were times I wondered if I should have quit, and wondered if I was going to flame out in the middle of the ring instead if I didn’t. But it was in those moments that I had to get in touch with my own mind again.”

“I had to remember that I had a dream at the end of the day. I wanted to stand at the top of the mountain that I was ousted from again. I wanted to know that I could still do it. I wanted to go out there and find my self-worth in that ring again, even if I had to paint the canvas of that worth in my own blood. Every night in this ring was a do-or-die moment in this ring, and I fought like it.”

A fan quickly shouts after, “WE LOVE YOU, DICKIE!” which brings a smile to his face.

“My… predecessor… said a lot of things while he was champion. Most of it was bullshit, but… there was one thing he said that was true.”

The air sucked itself out of the crowd for a brief moment, before Dickie raised the Universal Championship high once more.

“DREAMS DO COME TRUE!”

THE CROWD COMES ALIVE WITH RAUCOUS APPLAUSE AGAIN! And Scoops is right there leading them!

“War Games was an opportunity for me to do what I always wanted to do, and I wasn’t going to waste my chance. Teaming wasn’t my specialty, but standing with Scoops, GG, Mansley… I wasn’t going to do what I did without them by my side. And now that I’m on top of the mountain… I’m going to continue to fight. To continue to prove my worth, and to continue to stand at the top of the mountain, because I didn’t fight like Hell to get to this point only to get tossed aside at the first chance possible.”

Scoops nods along with the speech, his eyes longingly staring at the Universal Championship. Before he can say anything though, several figures are wheeling a monitor through the crowd!

JC: What the Hell is that?

JR: That looks like some mini-Grok models, Jack! The Trillionaires have business here!

The crowd boos the Groks, but they ignore them as they wheel the monitor right in front of both Dickie and Scoops. The two teammates share a look with each other, but they don’t say anything at first as the monitor powers on to see Elon Musk at his desk… doing paperwork. Behind him, Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg are in the background playing Patty-Cake together.

JC: Uh…

JR: Does he realize he’s on?

A familiar voice clears her throat. “Mister Musk?”

Elon dismisses her with a wave. “Not now Nadine, I’m busy reviewing the health insurance plans.”

Nadine persists. “Mister Musk, the monitor feed you requested to Dickie Watson and Scoops McGee is up and running.”

Elon looks up, brows scrunched. “Why would I ask for that right now?”

“The Universal Championship situation…?”

“Oh! Right, that. Well, you see-”

“Listen here, you slimy piece o’ shit,” Scoops cuts off Elon to a notable pop from the crowd. “If you got somethin’ to say, then say it already.”

“Bah! I’m getting to that!” Elon frowns and rolls his eyes. It lasts for only a moment before it gets replaced with a fake, lizard-like smile. “First of all, I’d like to congratulate both you two and your other teammates on a hard-fought win at War Games. Truly, it brought a tear to my eye. Thanks to you, we can properly handle the Kieran King situation.”

Dickie rolled his eyes. “We didn’t do that for you, you know.”

“No… no, I don’t suppose you did,” Elon hummed as he drummed his fingertips along his table. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you scratched our back, so we’ve scratched yours in return. How Amber Mansley found herself in the TV title tournament, for instance… or the matter of your tag title match in the main event tonight…”

JC: More like a handicap match…

JR: To be fair to the two of them, they can’t control the fact that SEB purposefully chose not to have a partner tonight.

“Is there a point to any of yer’ yappin’ right about now?” Scoops demanded. “‘Cause if there ain’t, we’ll slide on outta here right now.”

“Now, now, Mister McGee,” Elon chided, his false smile only growing wider. “You of all people will want to hear this, especially considering the way you told me off just last Warfare. Think of this as an… olive branch.”

Scoops paused, squinting. Elon took that as his signal to continue. “You see, we appreciate the fact that you two are trying to stick together, showing that little… worker solidarity thing, or whatever. But there’s a more important matter that needs to be settled… the Universal title picture for Snow Pain, Snow Gain. Kieran’s soon to be fired, so he won’t be involved in the mix, so after that…”

Elon’s grin turned malevolent. “We’ve decided that… why not reward the Captain of the winning team of War Games for a title shot?”

The crowd “oooohs” in anticipation as Scoops freezes in place, face contorted in confusion. Dickie gave a notable side eye to Scoops, slowly stepping back while nodding at him.

“I thought you’d be happier, Mister McGee. After all… you were the one who wanted the chance to win the Universal title, right?”

Scoops quickly shook his head, regaining his composure as he spoke. “There’s a catch. There’s always a catch with you slimy fucks. What is it?”

“No catch!” Elon grinned, putting his hands up innocently. “We wouldn’t want to dilute such an opportunity like this. The only thing you need to do… is to just remember who gave you this opportunity.”

Scoops turned back to Dickie, who had his brows raised towards him. The two spoke to each other, not using a microphone, the camera barely able to pick up on it.

“You’re taking the shot, right?”

Scoops hesitated. “I can’t trust them. I know you don’t.”

“Of course I don’t. But do you remember what I told you before?”

Elon cut the discussion short as he hummed. “You seem a bit confused, Mister McGee, so tell you what. Consider this an open offer. Get back to us about it by next Warfare. In the meantime…. I hope this doesn’t affect your ability to work with Mister Watson in tonight’s main event.”

The monitor feed cuts to black, leaving Dickie and Scoops’ heated discussion with each other.

JR: Looks like the Universal title picture is heating right back up! No rest for the wicked!

JC: Scoops isn’t wanting to take that deal, and I can’t blame him! That’s a deal with the Devil right there!

JR: Chances for the Universal title could be once-in-a-lifetime though, Jack! You know how long Scoops has wanted to be at the top of the same mountain Dickie is at right now?

JC: Well, folks, you can’t miss the chance to see these two potential opponents on the same side one more time in tonight’s main event!

Warfare cuts to its first match of the night as Dickie and Scoops walk down into the hold.

JC: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the most absurd, high-stakes, and frankly confusing naval engagement in the history of Christmas Specials!

JR: It’s unbelievable, JC. I’ve seen some wild things in the Octagon, but I have never seen a man try to captain a 19th-century Habsburg-class battleship while wearing hot pants and a silk ascot. This is high-level ship-to-ship combat with serious psychological consequences!

The black, churning waters of the Norwegian Sea erupted as Centurion’s battleship plowed through a massive wave. On the bridge, Centurion stood tall. His golden chest plate caught the dim Arctic sun, and his purple silk ascot flapped violently in the gale.

JC: On one side, we have the hero of the people, the man of honor, CENTURION! He’s piloting, a relic of the Austro-Hungarian Navy. 8,300 tons of pure, unadulterated steel.

JR: And look at that crew, JC! Look at the quad development on those sailors! They’ve ditched the tactical gear for neon-pink shorts and orange ascots. It’s like a Jane Fonda workout video met a pirate raid. They’re moving with incredible fluidity. They’re loose, they’re agile, and they’re definitely not afraid of the cold.

Across the water, The Director’s vessel loomed like a jagged splinter of obsidian. The Director stood on the prow, holding a megaphone fashioned from human bone. Behind him, fifty masked pirates stood in silence, clutching pikes and rusted boarding axes.

JC: And his opponent... the man who strikes fear into the hearts of grips and gaffers alike... THE DIRECTOR! He’s approaching from the fog in a vessel that looks like a floating torture chamber.

JR: That thing is terrifying. It’s a literal wooden fortress. He’s got trebuchets, man! TREBUCHETS! That’s a gravity-powered siege engine from the Middle Ages being used against a battleship. And his crew—everyone is wearing these sicko masks. It’s like a fever dream!

"Action!" The Director screamed.

The massive trebuchet on The Director’s boat deck groaned. A counterweight the size of a small car dropped, and a 200-pound boulder, wrapped in oil-soaked burning rags, launched into the sky.

JR: Oh! He’s going with the classic projectile! That thing is massive! If that hits the deck, it’s going to be a problem.

JC: Centurion is maneuvering! He’s pushing that old Habsburg engine to the limit!

The boulder slammed into the sea just five feet from the battleship’s hull, sending a massive plume of freezing water over the crew. The sailors in their Spirit Halloween pirate gear didn't flinch; they just wiped the salt from their eyes and began chanting Centurion’s name.

"Return fire!" Centurion commanded, pointing a gloved finger. "Give them a taste of the 24-centimeter Lange 40!"

The forward turret of the battleship rotated with a grinding, metallic shriek. The massive barrel leveled.

BOOM!

The shockwave blew the hats off half the crew. The shell roared across the water, but The Director barked an order, and his boat performed an impossibly sharp turn, the shell whistling through the rigging and exploding harmlessly in the distance.

JR: Look at the movement on that wooden ship! It’s like it’s being pulled by invisible wires! That’s the power of The Director. He’s cheating the physics of the ocean!

The Director’s sailed across the surface of the water, drawing alongside the steel hull of the World War 1 era battleship, the masked pirates began throwing grappling hooks.

JC: They’re boarding! The Director is sending in the stuntmen!

JR: This is where it gets crazy. You see those masks? They’re designed to dehumanize. It’s a psychological tactic used to break the will of the opponent. But Centurion’s guys... they’re too confident in their ascots. They don't care!

Spiked wooden boards slammed down, bridging the gap between the wooden rail and the steel deck. The masked pirates leaped across, screaming in unison.

Centurion drew a shimmering gladius from his belt. "Defend the ship!"

The battle on the deck was a chaotic blur of color and horror. Centurion’s crew, despite their lack of trousers, fought with the discipline of Roman legionaries. One sailor, wearing a neon-blue bandana, used a mop to trip a masked pirate before delivering a devastating dropkick that sent the villain flying into the icy depths.

Centurion himself was a whirlwind of gold and muscle. He parried a pike thrust from a pirate wearing a "Weeping Willow" mask, spun him around, and delivered a textbook vertical suplex onto the cold steel deck.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. The Director had leaped from his ship, landing gracefully on the battleship’s turret. He held a boarding axe in one hand and a spiked clapboard in the other.

JR: This is it! The Director vs. Centurion on top of a 24-centimeter gun! The footwork here is insane. The deck is slick with sea spray, and they’re fighting on a rounded steel surface!

JC: The Director swings the axe! Centurion ducks! Oh! A narrow miss!

While the leaders clashed, the battle below became truly bizarre. Centurion’s gunners—three men in matching pink ascots—began firing the 47mm Skoda guns. But instead of aiming for the hull, they were shredding The Director’s sails, turning the black canvas into confetti.

That’s when explosions began rocking the Austro-Hungarian ship! The Director had somehow managed to plant charges on the battleship before the fight even started! Smoke filled the air. The masked pirates redoubled their efforts, swinging from the rigging and throwing jars of highly flammable oil onto the deck.

JR: He’s setting the stage, JC! He’s literally creating a third-act catastrophe!

JC: Centurion’s ship is on fire! The crew is slipping! This looks bad for our Babyface hero!

Centurion stumbled as a blast went off near the funnel. The Director seized the moment, slamming the spiked clapboard into Centurion’s shoulder. Gold plating flew off, and Centurion winced, dropping to one knee.

"And... cut!" The Director sneered, raising his axe for the final blow. "I’m writing you out of the script, Centurion!"

But Centurion looked up, a bloody smile on his face. Centurion grabbed the Director’s ankle and pulled with the strength of a man who does 500 squats a day in silk shorts! The Director tumbled backward, his axe clattering away. Centurion signaled to his troops on the battleship, pointing toward a tarp-covered shape on the aft deck.

From the hold of the battleship, the remaining crew members emerged, but they weren't grabbing more glitter. They pulled back the canvas to reveal a humming, high-tech piece of experimental machinery: a massive, dual-coil electromagnetic railgun!

JR: Wait a minute! Is that what I think it is? That’s not WWI tech, JC! That’s a railgun! Where did he get the capacitors to power that on an old Habsburg ship? The kinetic energy alone is going to be astronomical!

JC: Anarchy’s top babyface has been hiding an ace up his short-shorts! Look at the glow on those rails!

Centurion’s sailors—their ascots fluttering in the magnetic gale—aligned the weapon toward The Director’s vessel. Within seconds, the air around the battleship began to ionize, blue sparks dancing off the crew’s exposed thighs.

JR: OH MY GOD! The Director’s crew is in serious trouble. He’s trying to scramble back to his ship, but the magnetic field from that railgun is literally pulling the metal buttons off his clothes!

Centurion didn't wait. He lunged forward, catching The Director in a crushing bearhug as the villain tried to flee back across the boarding planks. The two men struggled on the edge of the battleship's railing, The Director’s vessel bobbing beside the steel giant. Centurion suddenly shifted his weight, hoisting The Director onto his shoulders in a perfect fireman’s carry.

JC: HE’S GOT HIM! The Director is airborne! Centurion is holding him on his shoulders like a trophy!

JR: This is pure naval dominance!

With the Director draped over his shoulders, Centurion stepped back from the edge. He didn't jump this time. He stood firm on his own deck, watching as his crew engaged the firing sequence.

The railgun fired with a sound that cracked the very sky, a hyper-velocity tungsten slug screaming across the short gap between the vessels. It passed through the wooden hull like a hot needle through tissue paper. The kinetic energy caused the sea beneath the Director’s ship to cavitate, and the wooden vessel essentially disintegrated from the inside out. Splinters the size of telephone poles flew in every direction as The Director’s ship was hammered down into the dark abyss of the Norwegian Sea.

Winner & Advancing in the TV Tournament - Centurion

JR: IT’S GONE! The ship is deleted from the timeline! One shot, JC! That’s high-level physics meeting high-level grit!

JC: And Centurion is still standing there! He’s still got The Director on his shoulders while his enemy’s entire world sinks into the Arctic! Talk about a total shut-out!

Centurion dumps The Director off of his shoulders and into the cold ocean’s waters. The masked pirates who had managed to board were immediately surrounded by sailors in lime-green shorts, their pikes no match for the victory-fueled momentum of Centurion’s crew.

JR: This is a statement victory for Centurion! And just like that, he’s moving onto the next round of this tournament!

JC: HE’S DONE IT! Centurion has completely neutralized The Director and obliterated his vessel!

JR: That was incredible. The transition from the WWI aesthetic to the railgun? That’s the kind of storytelling that wins championships! Centurion just showed he’s got the brains, the brawn, and the experimental weaponry to go all the way in this tournament for Dickie Watson’s newly vacated TV Championship!

JC: Centurion moves on to Round Two in dominant fashion! The Director’s career just hit a major plot hole! What a match!

The camera cuts backstage.

Micheal Graves strolls into frame walking down a hallway like he owns the place.

A production assistant turns the corner carrying a stack of towels up to his chin. Graves steps directly into his path and just looks at him for a moment.

"Busy night?"

The assistant nods quickly.

Graves glances at the wall beside of them.

"You ever think about how many people have bleed right here?"

He doesn’t answer.

Blood leaks from under Graves' mask and dribbles onto the floor.

Our production assistants eyes dart toward the camera hoping it might save him.

"Hundreds? Thousands?

Some fast, some slow.

Some angry. Some scared.

Some just careless accidents.

And the ground… it remembers. the ground never forgets.

You walk across it, and you can feel it.

You think you’re alive… but really… you’re just bleeding out to a ten count."

He pats the kid on the shoulder and strolls off like nothing about that was even remotely alarming.

A stagehand is minding his own business and looping cables nearby as Graves suddenly appears behind him like The Shape (Michael Myers).

"Quick question," Graves says. "You expecting any precipitation tonight?"

The stagehand blinks. "Weather app said clear."

"I wasn’t talking about outside!"

There’s no warning. Graves just launches and grabs the guy by the back of the head bouncing his face off the wall hard enough that the man’s knees give out and he hits the concrete in quickly forming pool of blood.

"Stupid fuckin' haircut. You should definitely change it, DUMMY!"

He continues down the hallway until he reaches a door marked:

KRISTOFFER ARROYO
ANARCHY CHAMPION

Graves reaches into his cape and pulls out a piece of paper that reads:

NOTICE OF IMMINENT VIOLENCE

He presses it against the door and drives a nail through it with his forehead in one clean shot.

The camera moves in tight:

THIS IS YOUR COURTESY WARNING.
I'M NEXT!!!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!

"Ho… ho… ho, motherfucker. All that stands between you and me is Mister Ozzy—meaning—I’m about to stuff your stocking with every tooth in your fuckin' head!"

He spreads his arms wide.

"Deck the halls with blood and marrow, fa la la la la… la la… la… DIE!"

JC: Folks, we have two competitors that are coming off War Games feeling majorly successful!

JR: But only one can advance to the next round of the TV title tournament!

The cameras pan over the icy waters of the island of Jan Mayen!

…Suddenly, off in the middle distance, two ships head for shore!

The lights went dark!

The sound of thunder Ker-ACKS throughout the arena!

Over the island’s PA system, a woman laughs…

A Storm…

Is…

COMING

Suddenly, the lights off a nearby dinghy turned blue! Rain falls along the shore line above as Latoya Hixx emerges from the top of the dinghy the top of the ramp, flexing her muscles!

JC: Latoya Hixx is one of the strongest competitors in all the XWF! And she just celebrated her very first PPV victory in her career at War Games! Can she chase that momentum by advancing through the Television Title tournament and securing her first belt?

JR: Hey, how did the ring crew make it rain outdoors for Latoya’s entrance?

JC: According to my notes…

…

JC: God.

The lights return to their default dinghy settings as Hixx walks straight down the plank and she slaps a few hands of wrestling fans!

JC: Hixx eliminated Dwayne ‘The Grok’ Johnson in that four-on-four elimination match! A massive elimination that played a major part in her team’s victory!

JR: But tonight, she’s facing a much bigger challenge than four wayward weirdos! She’s facing THE INFLUENCE!

Hixx steps onto the beach…

The lights dim and she flexes her muscles one final time!

…

“Break It Down” by Lil Debbie plays the island’s surround sound system, (which is a bunch of speakers hooked in through the icy tundra! The audience (in their boats) immediately boos the young athlete emerging from the small boat arriving on the shore! Amber smiles at the hatred she receives. Amber stands center stage with her hands on her hips, staring out to the audience before doing a slow twirl where a spotlight shines only on her, creating the illusion of a silhouette. Once she faces the audience again, she snaps her fingers, and the lights return to normal before strutting down to the ring like on a model’s runway.

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

JC: And here she is! ‘The Influence’ Amber Mansley! The anchor member of the winning WarGames team, The House of Hardcore!

JR: Amber was no slouch either, Jacuinde! She managed to eliminate the opposing team’s captain, Solomon Kline! And, as a result, for a few precious moments, Amber Mansley was the XWF X-Treme champion!

JC: She was pinned shortly thereafter, Joe. Such is life! But it was her first piece of title gold in the XWF! And that first taste makes a competitor all the hungrier to get the next belt! This it the first round of the Television Title tournament! And both these women are looking to send a message about how deep they plan to go to score Television gold!

Amber stops before the beach, then looks both ways at the fans at ringside booing her. She gently leans over the apron, shrugs her shoulders, and then kisses the camera. Amber spins herself into the beach, lying on the sand in the center. The camera transitions to a sky-view with a single spotlight on her in the arena, and from the camera’s point of view, it looks like an artwork of Amber in a silhouette fashion. She gets back on her feet, snaps her finger to alert production to brighten the lights, and silences her music…

…

Our two competitors are approached by the official who hands them both a shovel and a pirate treasure map!

JC: Now, these two competitors will be attempting to find the treasure of the great Norwegian pirate, Icebeard! He was famously paranoid and had frosted tips in his beard!

JR: A man after my own heart!

JC: The first competitor to secure the chest containing Icebeard’s treasure and open the chest… will be the victor and will advance to the next round!

HIGHLIGHT REEL

JC: Here we go! A Treasure Hunt match, taking place on the one of the most remoted islands in all of the world and…

KERACK!

JC: …And Latoya Hixx just snapped her shovel in half over her knee!

JR: It’s a bold strategy, Jacuinde! Like Cortes burning the boat he sailed on, but instead of burning, it’s snapping, and instead of the ship, it’s the most effective means Latoya has to dig for the buried treasure.

JC: …So, nothing at all, like Cortes, right Joe?

JR: Oh man, I mean, when you put it like that…

Indeed, Latoya Hixx chucks away the two shovel halves she’s just destroyed into a nearby snow bank… and, for good measure, immediately throws away the map as well, punting it into the snow!

While Amber tries to read her map, to determine the location of the treasure… Latoya charges immediately, going straight at Amber Mansley!

JC: Latoya going after Amber like a freight train! Or like a bulldozer!

JR: Or like… a big powerful thing that could knock someone over!

JC: …Joe, analogies don’t work like that. You should compare the wrestler to something they aren’t literally.

Latoya charges at Amber with a…

LARIAT!

…But Amber squeals, nimbly ducking under the clothesline attempt! Hixx blows past, spins on a dime…

Straight into a map-assisted eye poke! Latoya drops back-first onto the icy beach as Amber follows the first instruction… Fifteen paces north of the beach!

JR: Mansley strikes the first blow and is laser-focused on getting the treasure!

JC: Now, Icebeard could have hidden the treasure anywhere on the island! The instructions to find his treasure are sure to be convoluted and complicated, nigh impossible to follow to avoid people that might accidentally stumble onto the treas-

JR: And Amber is on top of the X!

Indeed, the Influence has followed the map to an X!

JC: …The treasure was just fifteen paces north of the beach? How has it never been found?!?

Amber kicks her shovel into the X!

…Mostly so as to not lose it, because she immediately pulls out her phone to snap a quick selfie!

JC: Does anyone actually want to win this match?!?

JR: Hey, treasure is cool. You know what’s cooler? #CONTENT.

Amber spends a little time getting the angle juuuuuust right… picking the right filter… perfect pic, as always… now for the caption…

JC: Oh my God!

JR: I know! I’m on the edge of my seat. Do you think she went with sepia filter or monochrome?

As Mansley’s thumbs rapidly dance across her phone screen…

THE STORM

IS

COMING! Charging across the beach, right at her!

Stinger Splash against Mansley’s back! She flops flat onto her face… As Latoya scoops up the scooper Amber embedded into the ice and starts digging!

JR: Oh my Gosh! Hixx is going straight for the treasure, using Mansley’s shovel!

JC: Of course, Icebeard would have buried his treasure DEEP into the beach in order t-...

THUNK!

JR: And Hixx has hit pay dirt!

JC: Are you serious?!?

Hixx tosses the shovel away and retrieves a treasure chest! She pulls it out of the ground as Amber slowly rises to her knees!

JR: There it is! Icebeard’s treasure!

JC: Literally 15 feet from the beach and buried… maybe a foot in the ground?

Hixx throws the chest open!

…

It’s ICY LAUNDRY! LOTTA SHIRTS PIRATE VESTS!

JR: Oooooh, lot of Jolly Roger underwear… and that’s been vacuum sealed in a treasure chest so that smell has gotta be rancid!

JC: ….Ohhhhhhhh! Icebeard must have buried decoy treasure spots around the beach!

Hixx throws the dirty laundry out of the chest… and under it… is another map!

JC: That might be the REAL treasure map!

JC: Latoya has managed alternate between physically manhandling The Influence… AND digging up several more X’s on the island! But none of them have been the X that marks Icebeard’s treasure!

JR: But she has found the next most valuable thing! Knowledge! Did you IceBeard was an avid bowler? How else did he have a whole treasure chest of bowling trophies?!?

Hixx furiously BOOTS the treasure chest she just unearthed, which is full of third place bowling trophies… It hurts, she briefly hops on one foot from the boot…

As from behind, Mansley forces herself up off the knees… And scoops Hixx off her foot and onto Mansley’s shoulders!

SNAP LIGER BOMB ONTO THE FROZEN BEACH!

JC: Holy COW! What a move by Mansley!

Mansley STEPS on Hixx’s gut as she marches toward the treasure chest… she buries her arm in the chest of bowling trophies…

And retrieves the map!

JC: Hey, that one looks tattered and old! Like a pirate map! Could that actually be the map to Icebeard’s treasure!

Amber follows the last instruction of Icebeard’s map… And arrives…

At empty, unmarked cliff! The only thing in sight is the cliffside… and two frosty palm trees rooted just in front of the cliff…

JC: What the Hell!?! Mansley did 24 paces northwest, spun 285 degrees west, and did fifty bunny hops straight ahead! The treasure should be right here!

JR: Maybe the real treasure is the friends we made along the way?

JC: THAT’S NOT HOW THIS MATCH WORKS!

Amber scratches her head… She double-checks the instructions… X marks the spot!

Amber glances up again… and sees the two palm trees… and her eyes alight with an idea!

JC: Despite no obvious signs of an X, Amber is determined to find one!

JR: But the ground is X-less, Jacko!

Amber circle-steps around the beach… the two askew palm trees, rotating in her vision…

Until they form, before her…

AN X!

JC: …Oh! Clever!

JR: The map doesn’t say the X is gonna mark a spot on the ground! It could just mean, dig at the spot where you see an X!

Amber takes the shovel and digs at the spot where she’s found an X!

JC: Okay! This is almost certainly the real treasure! Which means Icebeard likely buried it DEE-

CLINK!

JR: And Amber’s got it!

JC: *sounds of a microphone disconnecting in frustration*

Amber unearths… a BIG looking treasure chest! She pulls it out of the hol-

WHAM! From behind, Latoya drops Mansley with a bicycle kick to the back of the head!

JC: Oh my! There’s reason to believe we have the treasure…

JR: But it ain’t over until one of these two opens that chest, Jacuinde!

JC: These two have been fighting tooth and nail over the treasure chest! But no one has secured it long enough to get it open and claim the buried treasure!

Latoya exhaustedly cradles her gut on the cliffside as Mansley crawls arm over arm up to the chest… She manages to get a hand on the chest’s top and tries to push it open…

When Hixx springs into action! Rear waistlock from behind, followed by a…

GERMAN SUPLEX!

Mansley’s back KERACKS against the frozen sands… but Hixx doesn’t let go!

JR: We might be looking at a threesome of suplexes, Jacuinde!

JC: …I didn’t know Hixx could count that high.

Hixx works Mansley back up to her feet…

RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX! Chucking Mansley as far as she can… almost off the cliffside!

JC: Oh my God! That’s a big drop off the cliff!

…

But Amber hangs on!

Hixx has one hand on the treasure chest!

JC: If Hixx can make it to the second round of the TV title tournament, it would be a MAJOR upset!

JR: Don’t get Amber out yet! She has zero quit in her!

Indeed, Amber… teetering near the side of the cliff, barks to Hixx to come at her!

…Hixx looks down at the chest… possibly seconds from victory…

…And decides to shut it!

And she charges at Mansley!

JC: It looks like Hixx wants to win this one with Mansley unconscious!

Hixx goes for a…

SPEAR!

…

BUT MANSLEY LEAP FROGS OVER!

JC: Hixx coming in like a linebacker! Dangerously close to that cliffside!

Hixx bowls through, extending her arms out to put on the brakes!

…

She teeters dangerously close to toppling over the edge!

JC: Oh, I can’t look! I’m gonna be sick!

JR: SEA sick!

…

Hixx manages to stay balanced….

JC: Phew, what a close call…

Hixx turns around…

…

STRAIGHT INTO AN AMBER MANSLEY BICYCLE KICK!

SLAY, BOO!

JC: Mansley hit that one FLUSH on Hixx!

Hixx staggers backwards!

…

OFF THE CLIFFSIDE!

She falls twenty feet!

SPLASH! INTO THE ICY WATERS BELOW!

JC: …I think Hixx is gonna have to put those muscles to work and use those legs to kick to shore!

JR: Use those SEA legs!

…Amber pumps a fist, as she walks back to the chest!

And opens it!

DOUBLOONS! And a ticket to the next round of the Tournament!

WINNER AND ADVANCING TO THE NEXT ROUND OF THE TV TITLE TOURNAMENT: AMBER MANSLEY!

JC: A zany, hard-fought victory for Amber Mansley! Hixx pulled out every stop she could to pull the victory over Mansley! But Amber advances and may be on her way to her second title victory in her XWF career!

Aboard their superyacht where the Trillionaire Triumvirate watches the night’s proceedings, they move inside to escape the cold, Norwegian air.

MARK ZUCKERBERG: Chat, this night is bussin’ hundo p.

ELON MUSK: Refreshments, anyone?

MARK ZUCKERBERG: Let's do kegstands!

JEFF BEZOS: I'll just have a small glass of the tears of a child laborer, thank you.

Elon nods and rummages through the fridge.

ELON MUSK: Who took the last Diet Coke?

???: Sorry, that was me.

The corporate overlords spin to find royalty sprawled out on the couch.

Kieran King is making himself at home, sipping Elon’s last drink.

The three look at each other before Elon’s weird face makes a weird, lizard person smile.

They circle King, with Zuck and Musk sitting on either side of him while Bezos looms behind.

ELON MUSK: Mr. King… I don't believe you were scheduled to be here.

KIERAN KING: Sometimes… plans change.

He turns to Zuckerberg.

KIERAN KING: How's the face?

ELON MUSK: Our superior eugenics–I mean genetics mean that Mark's face has healed immensely quickly from your kick the last time we were all in the same space.

KIERAN KING: Pity his balls haven't grown back and you still seem to be calling the shots.

MARK ZUCKERBERG: I have huge balls! Ask your mom!

Bezos nods approvingly, mouthing the word ‘huge’.

KIERAN KING: Gross.

ELON MUSK: We are actually glad you're here, Mr. King, because we wanted to talk to you about what happened at War Games. I can't help but notice that you're missing something gold and shiny. The Universal Championship perhaps?

Elon sniggered. Kieran smirked in reply.

ELON MUSK: I seem to recall a conversation with a lawyer about how we couldn't fire you while you were champion. And now you're not. Mark… since you're then one he attacked, would you like to do the honors here?

Zuck grins.

MARK ZUCKERBERG: YOU'RE… CANCELLED!

Elon sighs.

ELON MUSK: C'mon Mark, we practiced talking like a human and not a weird facsimile of pop culture. Just say it normally…

MARK ZUCKERBERG: YOU'RE… COOKED!

ELON MUSK: That's even more ambiguous!

MARK ZUCKERBERG: Right, right, right. Sorry. WE… ARE GONNA… YEET YOU FROM THE XWF!

ELON MUSK: Oh for f— …Jeff?

Bezos leans forward over Kieran's shoulder, salivating.

JEFF BEZOS: YOOOOOUUUUU'RRRREEEEE FIIIIIIRRRRRREEEEEDDDDD!!!!

Spit flies from his mouth, grossing everyone out.

Kieran glances up at Bezos, then over to Zuck, and then finally to Musk

KIERAN KING: No I'm not.

The air gets sucked from the room.

ELON MUSK: I beg your pardon?

KIERAN KING: I… am not… fired. Or cancelled. Or cooked. Or being yeeted anywhere.

ELON MUSK: You don't really get a say in the matter. Guys…

He looks to Jeff and Mark, confused.

ELON MUSK: …does he get a say in the matter? He doesn't, right? No? So he's fired?

KIERAN KING: Nope… not fired. Not according to… THE UNION.

Bezos recoils at the sound of those two words, like someone pouring water on the Wicked Witch.

ELON MUSK: What union? There isn't an XWF union.

From a small black satchel, Kieran produces a stack of papers and slides them over.

KIERAN KING: These are copies, so don't try to eat them…

He glares at Zuck.

Musk rifles through.

ELON MUSK: What is this?

KIERAN KING: You know how you love to take credit for things that you didn't create, but try to convince the world you did?

ELON MUSK: Yeah, it's one of my favourite things to do. We're here in Norway because I founded Norway.

KIERAN KING: Well see… sometimes those things have histories that you're not aware of. And I'm not even talking about history going back to 1999. I'm just talking about the 4th of August, this year.

JEFF BEZOS: What happened on the 4th of August?

MARK ZUCKERBERG: Australia announced they were going to rob me of the brains of Under-16 year olds!

JEFF BEZOS: But no Under-16 year olds even use Facebook?

KIERAN KING: Not that. There was an XWF Board Meeting that day. Dolly Waters presented the idea of a union.

ELON MUSK: And we crushed that.

KIERAN KING: No. I did. Or… I delayed it. Using my man on the board, I gave Dolly 90 days, within which she had to get 60% of the roster to sign on. Just enough time to keep her distracted through Relentless so that I could take the Universal Title from her.

JEFF BEZOS: Show me that…

Elon, still confused, handed the docs to Jeff while Kieran continued.

KIERAN KING: Anyone want to guess what percentage Dolly got to before I crushed her dreams so hard she upped and vanished?

MARK ZUCKERBERG: 6-7!!!

KIERAN KING: That's… not how that meme works. And that would also mean she was successful. Which she was not. But she was close. 55% in fact. Which meant only a few more names were needed.

JEFF BEZOS: HE SIGNED IT!

Rage flashes in Bezos's soulless eyes as he taps on the paperwork.

ELON MUSK: But… he's just one person.

Suddenly, black-clad figures step from the shadows.

Kieran's Kingsguard.

KIERAN KING: You guys really need to get better security. Oh that's right! The best security work for me! And they are all now XWF roster members. And they also… all signed. Jeff, please read the date next to everyone's names.

JEFF BEZOS: November 11, 2025…

KIERAN KING: 89 days after Dolly first went to the Board, the threshold was reached, and I went into War Games with a Plan B ready to enact. Flip the page, please Jeff. What do you see?

JEFF BEZOS: It's minutes from an official union meeting… wait… there was already an election for union president?

Kieran smiles.

KIERAN KING: No… not president. We had enough of my guys for a quorum.

Reaching into the satchel again, he pulls out the crown of the XWF that he has won two years running.

KIERAN KING: I think you guys forgot who the fuck you're dealing with.

He hands the crown to one of his security team, who ritualistically places it upon Kieran's head.

KING KIERAN: I am STILL King of the XWF. And I am… THE KING OF THE UNION too. So no… you won't be firing me. Instead, the union demands you make right what you did at War Games, or your entire roster walks.

ELON MUSK: …Make what right?

KING KIERAN: I don't give a fuck what you promised Scoops McGee earlier today. You are contractually bound to offer ME a rematch for the Universal Championship. And I will be taking it at SNOW PAIN SNOW GAIN!

Kieran leans forward, the strong arm of his new union behind him.

KING KIERAN: This is not up for negotiation.

He rises and his Kingsguard close around him.

KINGSGUARD: LONG LIVE THE KING!

They file out to a waiting boat, leaving the Trillionaires to stew.

ELON MUSK: Get our man on the phone…

Mark Zuckerberg nods as he starts dialing and the scene cuts away.

JC: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are live on the rooftop of Santa’s Workshop, and the only way to win is to shove your opponent down that chimney!”
JR: “That is insane. That’s not even wrestling anymore, that’s folklore violence.”
Snow whips across the rooftop. Christmas lights flicker. A wide stone chimney looms center-stage.
JC: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are live on the rooftop of Santa’s Workshop, and the only way to win is to shove your opponent down that chimney!”
JR: “That is insane. That’s not even wrestling anymore, that’s folklore violence.”
Snow whips across the rooftop. Christmas lights flicker. A wide stone chimney looms center-stage.

The roof of Santa’s workshop is bathed in a deep red light that brings out the shadows in every nook and cranny as "Deep Set" by Greg Puciato starts to play. Kristoffer Arroyo steps up the fire escape on the opposite side of Santa’s roof, looking cool and confident behind his bright pink shades. He saunters up the steps, taking his time and seeming to savor the moment before suddenly exploding into a slide onto the roof. He then steps onto the roof, where he wraps his legs around the gutters and hangs himself upside down with his arms outstretched like an inverted cross!

JC: As far as pay-per-view debuts go… I don’t think anyone in recent memory has had a better one than Kristoffer ‘Vamp’ Arroyo!
JR: No doubt, Jacuinde! We’re talking multiple eliminations! We’re talking leaving War Games as the Anarchy champion! And, maybe if the stipulations were like previous years, and the Universal title wasn’t on the line… there’s every reason to think Arroyo and Kieran might have won War Games by teaming up to take out Dickie Watson.

JC: But Arroyo called his own number, went to take the Uni title for himself… And wound up finishing third in an incredibly talented field of 24 competitors! Arroyo is clearly on the fast-track to bigger and brighter things! But can the Nickle train derail Arroyo’s shuttle to the top of the card!
Vamp smiles for the camera, revealing long sharpened incisors, before sitting up and rolling up and over the top rope and to the canvas. He then proceeds to get to a neutral corner and wait for the contest to begin.

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Kristoffer ‘Vamp’ Arroyo stalks forward first, coat flapping in the wind, eyes locked on the chimney like it’s an altar.

JC: The man some call Vamp is certainly… unorthodox!

JR: That’s one way to put it. Another way is he’s a fucking ACTUAL VAMPIRE!

Charlie Nickles doesn’t bother posturing—he charges, boots crunching on icy roof, straight toward Arroyo!

JC: Oh my! It looks like the Nickleman doesn’t care whether or not his opponent is a vampire, werewolf, or creature from the black lagoon! He’s gonna bring the fight right to ‘em!

Arroyo’s eyes widen, not with surprise but with intrigue, as he braces his feet, ready to meet Nickles!

And we’re off! The two collide in a flurry of chops and forearms! Arroyo snaps Nickles’ head back with a precise European uppercut, while Nickles answers with rapid-fire, ugly clubbering forearms!

JC: No feeling out process here! This is a flat out war!

JR: The ultimate battle: Vampire versus… whatever a Nickleman is!

JC: After that initial exchange of aggressive brawl of wild, chaotic fists versus technically, precise strikes, Charlie takes control!

JR: Arroyo is learning firsthand that you can’t hope to contain Nickles! You just gotta pummel him until there’s literally no life in his body to fight with!
Nickles muscles Arroyo backward with a series of clubbing forearms to the back of the skull… Arroyo drops to a knee…
Nickles grabs him by the throat and hurls him spine-first across the roof!

Into a stack of wrapped presents sitting on the roof, boxes exploding open as toys scatter across the roof!
JR: Hey! Some of those were for the little Timmys of the world! And one of those could have been the nun-chucks I asked Santa for!

JC: Joe, aren’t you a little old to be receiving presents from Santa Claus?

JR: What, you’re saying an alpha male can’t accept gifts from another man without losing what makes him alpha? I’ve thought of that, and I have several thoughts that allow gifts from Santa Claus.

JC: No, because Santa is not r-...

…

JC: Never mind.
Arroyo scrambles, shoving off bits of broken toy train and red flyer wagon…

Charlie charges, looking to scoop the vampire off his feet…

But Arroyo’s legs sweeps the roof in a circle! Nickles’ ankle gets clipped and he snaps backwards onto the icy shingles!

JC: Incredible counter by the man they call Vamp! …Er, actually the vamp they call… Vamp.

JR: Thanks for correctly species-ing a vampire, Jacuinde. I’d rather not have us get cancelled by vampire twitter.

JC: Arroyo has masterfully managed to slow down Nickles’s chaotic offensive barrage with a series of life-draining submission maneuvers! Though, I *am* surprised he hasn’t tried to bite Charlie yet…

JR: Can you imagine how bad Charlie tastes? Over the course of his career, he’s had almost as much blood outside his body as it’s been inside his body!

JC: There’s scientifically no way that’s true, Joe!

Nickles cradles his elbow, trying to force himself onto his arms off the icy roof, but Arroyo STOMPS onto the back of his head, forcing him back down onto the roof…

As Charlie seethes, his teeth grit… Arroyo latches his mitts around Nickles’ wrist… And pulls it backward behind Charlie’s spine! Fujiwara Armbar!

JC: Fascinating choice by Arroyo to go for this many submission moves! Reminder to the crowd: Neither competitor can win this match by submission! The only way to secure the victory is shoving your opponent down Santa’s chimney!

JR: Counter-point, Jacuinde! It’s gonna be a lot easier to shove Nickles down the chimney after Arroyo snaps his arm clean off his shoulder!

Arroyo wrenches back as Nickles howls! Nickles slams his fist against the roof… Arroyo twists with all he’s got, not going for the submission, but breaking Nickles’ arm!

Nickles’s face seizes in agony…

…But Nickles bites down on his free arm! Focusing the pain somewhere else…

And in a flash, Nickles manages to forward-roll, dragging both fhimself and Arroyo forward!

JC: Incredible acrobatic counter by Charlie Nickles! That would have been it for a lesser opponent!

JR: But not for the XWF’s Corporate champion, Jacuinde!

Arroyo bashes Nickles with an another European uppercut, staggering him backwards against the chimney!

JC: Oh my! Arroyo might be lining up the killshot to knock Nickles down Santa’s chimney!

JR: …Hey, does anyone deliver presents to Santa? That just dawned on me, feels like a bad deal for the old elf. Brain surgeons can get brain surgery from other brain surgeons, but there’s only one Santa. Who gets him presents?

JC: …Joe, you’re a 58-year-old man.

JR: …

JC: …*sigh*... Mrs. Claus buys him his present.

JR: Ah, that makes perfect sense. Thanks, Jacuinde.

Arroyo grabs Nickles by the throat, driving him forward with brute strength, trying to manhandle him down the chimney…

But in a flash, Nickles side-steps Arroyo’s bullrush charge, wrapping his arm around the back of Arroyo’s neck…

RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP! The back of Arroyo’s skull SLAMS into a metal ventilation pipe! Arroyo cradles the back of his skull as Nickles howls, in equal parts agony and determination!

JC: Holy shit! Charlie Nickles is pulling out every stop to stuff Kristoffer Arroyo down that chimney!
Arroyo winces… his skull aching… as he struggles to climb back to a vertical base…
Nickles smells blood—literally and figuratively… He reaches over the side of the roof… and grabs a loose length of twinkling Christmas lights!

JC: Oh my! It looks like Charlie is about to deliver unto Arroyo some festive Season’s BEATINGS!

Nickles manages to spool up a handful of lights… Arroyo manages to crawl up to his knees…

KERACK! Nickles whips them across Arroyo’s back! Arroyo’s spine reels back in agony, his face seizing in indescribable pain!

…As Arroyo throws his head back, Nickles takes the lights in his hands… AND WRAPS THEM AROUND ARROYO’S THROAT LIKE PIANO WIRE!

JC: Jesus Effing Christ! Nickles is turning some symbols of Christmas cheer into an X-Treme Rules HELL for Kristoffer Arroyo! This isn’t what the season is about!

JR: I dunno, have you ever seen the Santa Clause movie with Tim Allen? Santa gets defenestrated and DIES like in the first act. And that movie’s for CHILDREN, Jacuinde!

JC: Arroyo’s gotta dig deep here… Otherwise, Nickles is gonna inevitably stuff him down that chimney like Saint Nick himself!

Arroyo staggers, crawling away from the chimney to buy himself time to recover… but Nickles seizes Vamp by the ankle and drags hims back across the roof…

WHAM! In a desperate act of survival, like a cornered animal, Arroyo catches Nickles with a kick to the face!

…Nickles sneers, a little blood running down his nostril as he smiles sadistically…

JC: If anything, a bleeding Charlie is more dangerous…

Arroyo retrieves his boot and tries to shove himself back to a vertical base on the icy roof…

But the Nickleman dives ontop of him! He shoves his elbow into Arroyo’s face… grinding his forearm across Arroyo’s nose, as a smattering of blood drips into the snow...
Nickles hoists Arroyo up and plants him with a…

SNAP POWERSLAM!

JC: Ho Ho Oh NO! What a move!

JC: The door might be closing for Arroyo to make a comeback… Nickles is dragging him toward the chimney!

JR: Cinderella is about to turn into a pumpkin for the cinderella story of the rookie that came in third at War Games! The clock is ticking!
Nickles drags him toward the chimney, boots scraping as Arroyo claws at the roof…

Nickles reaches down, gripping Arroyo by clutches of his long hair… before Vamp hits him with both boots, driving Charlie back towards the chimney!

JC: Oh my! We thought the sun was rising on the vampire, but he’s not ashes yet!
Nickles extends both arms, preventing himself from slipping down the chimney! He shoves himself forward, looking to take the fight to Arroyo…

But Arroyo fires back suddenly!

CHOP! WOOOOOOO!

Kick!

CHOP! WOOOOOOO!

Nickles staggers backwards, before charging in with a desperation…

CLOTHESLINE!

…But Arroyo dips under! Charlie skids by on the icy roof, before spinning around…

Where Arroyo leaps onto his shoulders!

HURRICANRANA! Arroyo’s legs snaps around Nickles’ neck, hurtling Charlie onto his back!

JC: Arroyo might just be a vampire, because it’s like he’s immortal! He is impossible to put down!
Nickles stumbles wildly, nearly losing his footing on the roof edge…

But he finds a way to put the brakes on… As Arroyo rises up to his feet, Nickles charges in with a spear, dragging Arroyo up off the roof, off his feet… and goes to shove Vamp’s head and shoulders into the chimney, trying to overpower him!
JC: Oh my! Looks like Charlie’s done wrasslin’ here… He wants to manhandle Arroyo down that chimney and call it a holiday!
Arroyo flails, boots kicking against the brick as Nickles leans his full weight forward, trying to force Vamp down the chimney… Vamp’s feet start to tilt upward… Like he’s about to start sliding down the chimney…

JC: Nickles might just have this one! One more push oughta do it!
Nickles roars and repositions his hands for additional leverage…
…But that moment…
Arroyo turns his head toward Nickles…

AND BITES.

JC: Oh my GOD!

JR: A sudden, savage bite to the jugular from Kristoffer Arroyo! And I think you were right, Jacuinde, Charlie must taste pretty gross from the way Vamp’s face is looking!
Nickles screams and staggers back, clutching his neck, shock overtaking fury.

Arroyo rises slowly, blood on his lips, eyes dark with scorn…. He grabs Nickles, kisses him deeply…

ROMEO’S LAMENT!

then with inhuman strength lifts and shoves Nickles headfirst into the chimney, stuffing him down as Nickles’ boots kick wildly in the air.
A final, brutal stomp to the back—
Phoooooooooooooo…
THUD.
Snow drifts gently as the echo fades.

WINNER VIA SHOVING HIS OPPONENT DOWN SANTA’S CHIMNEY: KRISTOFFER ‘VAMP’ ARROYO!

JC: What a match! What a dominant showing! Charlie Nickles pulled out the most vicious, horrifying tactics he’s ever pulled out, possibly in his career!
JR: But the Vamp came for BLOOD! And blood is what he got! On his hands, on his teeth, and up on the rooftop, click click click! What a victory for the reigning Anarchy champion!
Arroyo stands alone on the rooftop, bloodied, smiling, staring down into the darkness below—
As the scene goes to commercial.

As we come back from the commercial break, we are treated to the sight of the ring, the ropes, the turnbuckles, and the aisle itself, decorated with gold and red meant for a red carpet affair. In just one minute-long commercial break, the entire scene has turned into a Red Carpet mega-movie premiere or some important Royal family event.

If the decorations aren’t enough, the camera shines a single spotlight on the ring announcer. But it’s not the usual one we see in XWF. Oh, no no no. This is special. Too special. This calls for someone who is GOATED among all things combat sports announcing.

[Image: and-still.gif]

The crowd is ecstatic seeing Bruce Buffer, because this man ONLY announces major stuff.

Joe Rogan: Yoooo, am I tripping? Is that my boy, Bruce Buffer, in there? It feels like I got teleported again—this time, from Warfare to another event.

JC: You’re not tripping, Joe Rogan. I dunno what this is. It wasn’t in our program notes. But whatever it is, it’s obviously huge. Probably something from the Trillionaires.

Bruce Buffer: Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages, XWF and Warfare proudly bring to the Lysefjord your REIGNING…. DEFENDING…. XWF X-Treme Champion of the WOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRLLLLLDDDDD… The GOOD Doctor… The Scapel of the Corporation… The COUNTESS of Monty Sicko…. DOCTOR! HOLLY! CAAAAAAAAAAAMBRIC!

The festive happiness the Norwegians were feeling a moment ago is dumped quicker than Amber Mansley’s reign with the very championship being announced. An avalanche of boos greets Dr. Cambric as she emerges with her music playing. She pays them no mind and smooths out her fancy red and black pantsuit while the cameraman gets an up close shot of the prestigious X-Treme title attuned to her waist.

From here, she simply walks to the ring. No pazaz. No theatrics. Just business. She enters the squared hell and actually smiles a rare smile as she shakes hands with Bruce Buffer. He gives her a parting nod and steps aside while she brings the talking stick to her cherry reds.

Dr. Holly Cambric: Well, well, well, and…well. Boo me all you like, good people of Norway, I do not mind, for I’ve seen what you cheer for.

OH boy, do they ever BOO the fuck out of her. She lets them. No emotion. No anger. No annoyance. No mocking. After they die down out of necessity, she gives them a polite nod and continues.

Dr. Holly Cambric: I’m sure you think I’m out here to make a big deal about Wargames, and how I rendered Ms. Amber Mansley the answer to XWF trivia questions in the years to come. Hmmm, yes indeed. When asked who had the shortest title reign, the answer will be Amber Mansley, and I’ll be attached to that.

Oh yes, the crowd is HOT now, and not in the good way. Holly wags her head cockily.

Joe Rogan: Holy shit, Holly’s showing a little bit of personality out here. Usually, she’s expressionless. She’s out here flashing a smile and wagging that head like she’s the rule of the roost.

JC: What’s gotten into her? Did she get laid?

Holly holds a finger up amid the wall of jeers and wiggles it back and forth..

Dr. Holly Cambric: No, dear Norway. Unlike the powers that be here in XWF, and you, the fans, and most of the locker room, I am not impressed by that woman who is more plastic than flesh. Me icing her so quickly and easily was a formality. I’m also not here to gloat about outsmarting the rest of her team. Outsmarting that crew is nothing to brag about, considering how hopelessly, utterly stupid they are.

She scoffs, and once again, a storm of boos wallop her.

Dr. Holly Cambric: I’m here to brag about the Corporation. I’m here to celebrate Solomon Kline, Mr. Oz, Jennie Nickles, and Charlie Nickles. We in the Corporation have huge news to bring you just in time for Christmas. 2026 will be the year the Corporation Makes XWF Great Again! Don’t take this news from me; allow my constituents to regale you all about it. Mr. Buffer, please do the honors.

Stepping in again, Bruce Buffer serenades the audience with his majestic voice as he announces the rest of the Corporation while their theme music begins blaring through the PA system!

Charlie, Jennie, Kline, and Mr. Oz all appear at the top of the ramp with golden grins and sinister smirks. The crowd boos as they saunter down to the ring with overbearing confidence! With the Corporation in full force inside the ring, the ground at The Lysefjord quakes from the sheer volume of heel heat the group is getting.

Charlie Nickles: Take a look at this, Norway! Take a long, hard look at what peak efficiency looks like. You see, I told Dr. Cambric that her number one priority at War Games—her only priority—was to ensure that the X-Treme Championship remained property of The Corporation at all costs.

Charlie offers a shallow, toothy grin to the crowd as the boos intensify.

Charlie Nickles: Now, I know what you’re thinking. "Charlie, how can one group contain so much greatness?" It’s simple: We don’t follow the rules, we -MAKE- them. And as the architects of the New XWF, we are implementing a few policy changes.

Starting right now, The Corporation is FREEBIRDING the X-Treme Championship! This championship belongs to the entity, not the individual. And here is the best part: once we reach our five mandatory defenses—which, let’s be honest, will take us about two weeks—this title transforms. It becomes a golden ticket! A briefcase that any member of this elite circle can cash in on the Universal Champion at any time, any place. We aren't just holding a belt; we are holding the entire main event scene hostage!

Charlie turns his attention back to Holly, his eyes gleaming with corporate greed.

Charlie Nickles: But we aren't monsters. We believe in corporate social responsibility. That’s why I am proud to announce the 2026 X-Treme Charity Tour! We are going to take this prestigious title and defend it against the absolute dregs of this roster. The jobbers, the "has-beens," the "never-weres"—the underprivileged and the utterly undertalented. We’re giving back to the community by giving them the beating of a lifetime. It’s philanthropic, really.

Charlie winks at the camera, then looks at Holly Cambric.

Charlie Nickles: Now, Miss Cambric…if I may have this dance?

Charlie does a gentlemanly bow and gracefully gestures to the mat. Holly replies in kind, and he takes her by the hand, gently easing her to the canvas. He “attacks” her with a playful hammerfist on the forehead. She playfully reacts in “pain” and goes inert. The ref rolls his eyes but does his duties as Charlie pins Holly with a comically fundamental and traditional leg hook pin for the one… the two… AND the three!

The bell rings.

Bruce Buffer: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner and NEW XWF X-Treme Champion…. The Niiiiiiiiickleman, Charlie! Nickles!

“Psycho” Solomon: You know what? Honestly? This is bullshit! First, I have to endure Charlie picking Jennie over me in the War Games captain’s match. Then when I lose my X-treme title, Doc Holly is there to take it back. I would appreciate it if it meant I was getting MY title back, but what has Charlie done lately for anyone here but himself? If we truly worked together in the first place, Jennie and I could have been on the same team. There would be no need to bring back the good doctor as a contingency plan and maybe I would still be champion. Honestly, I’m not really sure where I fit in the Corporation right now.

Jennie reacts before Charlie can try diplomacy. She grabs the mic from Charlie and gets in Kline’s face.

Jennie Nickles: The only thing that’s bullshit is you calling this bullshit. Charlie deserves this because he bailed your ass out when Sarah and TK ghosted you. Holly was the only one smart enough to pull off the x title heist cause we know you’d stupidly fight all four of them. And at least Holly won it in a match being contested instead of sucker punching a man at a bar like you did. You’ve had the belt several times over the last few months so instead of bitching you should say thank you to Charlie and holly because, if not for them, the fakest woman in wrestling, Amber Mansley, would be running around with it!

Charlie stands between them, the X-Treme title draped over his shoulder. He doesn't look angry; he looks disappointed, like a big brother watching his little siblings squabble over a toy. He places a hand on Solomon’s chest, not quite a push, but a firm reminder of the hierarchy.

Charlie Nickles: Solomon... look at me. Look at the suit. Look at the belt. You "fit" exactly where I tell you to fit. Don't let your ego cloud the vision. Take a breath, remember who brought you to the table. Now let's go celebrate our success, ‘Champ’.

Charlie turns his back on Solomon with total indifference, beckoning Jennie and Holly to follow him. They exit the ring, leaving Kline standing alone in the center. Only Mr. Oz remains for a lingering, uncomfortable moment. He doesn't offer a hand or a word of comfort; he simply stands like a silent sentinel, watching Solomon with the cold, predatory eyes of a hawk monitoring a liability. Finally, Oz gives a sharp, robotic nod and follows the group, leaving Solomon isolated in the ring as the scene cuts to black!

JC: Folks, we're hearing there is something going on backstage.

JR: Let's go back there and see what's happening.

The camera pans to a shot of someone lying on the concrete floor backstage, blood pooling around his head. The camera zooms in and it's "Psycho" Solomon!

JC: Who would do such a despicable thing?! We need medical staff to check on him immediately.

JR: I don't know. If you ask me, he deserves it. Remember what he did to his own friend and mentor, Aidan Collins? Ever since he joined the Corporation he's been a real prick!

JC: Wait, I thought you liked the Corporation?

JR: I like the Trillionaires. There's a difference. Who knows, maybe after his words earlier, Charlie or the Scarlet Verdict took him out. I wouldn't count anything out at this point.

JC: Regardless, that man has a family. Someone needs to get in there and check on him.

Medical staff arrives and checks on Solomon, who is unconscious. They place him on a stretcher and wheel him to a waiting ambulance.

As Charlie tumbles down the chimney below, their unconscious form is soon greeted by the warm, merry lights of Santa’s Workshop, shining upon them in the unlit fireplace.

JR: Yeah… I dunno if Charlie is gonna be getting up any time soon from that.

JC: Well, they’re about to be a spectator to what comes next, Joe! Because it’s time for our main event for the tag team titles!

Two ships come into port right outside the walkway to Santa’s Workshop! The fans line up along the sides, waiting with bated breath as Kristoffer Arroyo curiously spectates the scene from on high.

The lights from the ship die without warning. Not a fade, but a full blackout that sucks the air out of the arena like the calm before a fire. Then, a strobing light, lime green, flares from the side of the ship. Another, quicker and sharper. A third, holding longer now.

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

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

Fame by Royal Deluxe kicks in.

Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame

With each of the hits of the word “Fame” a spotlight flashes back and forth between the walkway and a random spot in the audience.

After the final Fame, the lyrics end.

Na, na, na, na…

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 walkway, 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.

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)

JR: Well, Jack, you wanna talk about a man with a lot to prove right now? Sebastian Everett-Bryce has plenty to prove right now.

JC: A man with the odds stacked against him, but he’s no stranger to that! Made it to the finals of War Games as the sole representative of his team, and he gave one helluva fight before he was finally eliminated!

JR: He’s never beaten Scoops McGee before, and if he manages to sneak a win over the Universal Champion at the same time, the Trillionaires might have no choice but to name SEB the Number One Contender instead! That’s normally a tough ask, but…

JC: He might have a small chance after what happened earlier tonight.

The lights lift and Seb makes his way to the workshop, 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 front door of the workshop.

XWF Tag Team Championship
Sebastian Everett-Bryce and… nope, that’s it ©
- vs -
Scoops McGee and Dickie Watson
Standard Tag INSIDE SANTA’S WORKSHOP

As SEB walks inside the front door, he finds Scoops and Dickie both waiting for him as they’re leaning against one of the nearby walls. Santa’s Workshop was practically a catacomb, with looming walls, stockings everywhere, a tall Christmas tree in the center of the living room, the unconscious frame of Charlie Nickles still slumped in the fireplace…

JR: It’s like I’m staring at the dream house of a ten-year old right about now…

JC: That’s the holiday spirit for you, Joe!

SEB throws his jacket aside, assuming a fighting stance and motioning for both Scoops and Dickie to bring it.

Scoops and Dickie glance at each other, an intense discussion taking place as it looks like both men want to try to start here…

JR: Not a good sign if both men are arguing before the bell even rings.

JC: Dickie wants his win over SEB, while Scoops wants to try and assert himself at the top of the title rankings without handouts from the Trillionaires. I can hardly blame either man, but…

Finally, Dickie steps forward while Scoops is mid-sentence! He curses, but lets Dickie have the fight as he and SEB begin to circle around…

DING! DING! DING!

And we’re off!

Rapid-fire warfare begins from both sides, neither man wanting to make a mistake in the early contest as SEB tries to use his height and weight advantage to practically bully Dickie in the collar-and-elbow tie-up. However, this doesn’t last long as Dickie manages to flip his way out and duck down underneath to sweep SEB’s legs out from under him!

SEB quickly gets up only to eat a dropkick from Dickie, sending him right back into a wall full of stockings! Dickie moves in for a running crossbody, but SEB sidesteps! Dickie stops himself just in time, but SEB reaches into one of the stockings… and pulls out a pair of nunchaku?!

JC: What the Hell kind of stocking stuffers are these?!

JR: My kind! Santa should get me some this Christmas!

Dickie’s eyes widen as SEB swings for his head, but he quickly ducks underneath. He can’t escape the second swing that comes right for his torso though, quickly eliciting a black-and-blue bruise on his ribcage. SEB follows by swinging it upward, practically acting as an uppercut that drives Dickie right back!

Scoops swears again under his breath, reaching into a different stocking and this time pulling out a pair of brass knuckles! He slips them on tight, before using his free hand to tag himself in as Dickie was forced back to him!

JC: Looks like both of these men are going to prioritize getting themselves into this…

JR: It’s a far-cry from how they were fighting at War Games. SEB needs to press that advantage if he wants to win here.

SEB swings with the nunchaku, but the sturdier Scoops holds his arms up to block the impact. He moves in with a jab with the brass knucks, which now has SEB on the defensive to try and get away from that metal shot.

SEB quickly parries another jab, but before he could take advantage, Scoops lurches forward with a headbutt!

SEB staggers back, but Scoops follows up with a CRUSHING body blow that takes the wind right out of SEB’s sails! He collapses back onto the steps, and Scoops rushes in with a full head of steam to try and take it to him!

BUT SEB DIGS DOWN DEEP AND HITS SCOOPS WITH A BACK BODY DROP TO SEND HIM RIGHT BACK INTO THE UNFORGIVING STEPS!

JR: Can you imagine having to take that kind of impact on your back in your sixties?!

JC: Scoops is gonna be lucky that he doesn’t get put into a wheelchair after a fall like that!

SEB staggers off, taking a moment to try and catch his breath after those hard shots, but Dickie sees his opening! He walks over to Scoops’ body and forcibly tags himself in!

SEB doesn’t realize it, though! Instead, he corrects himself, only to see Dickie darting straight towards the Christmas tree! He leaps into the air and swivels himself around on it, only to fall right onto SEB with a Tornado DDT!

JC: The numbers game is catching up with SEB right now!

JR: The brutality of Scoops, the high-flying ingenuity of Dickie! It’s hard enough already for any man to handle it!

JC: But SEB is still in this match so far, Joe!

SEB’s head snaps off the hardwood as the Tornado DDT plants him flush, ornaments rattling violently on the tree above them as Dickie rolls through to his knees. He doesn’t rush the follow-up. He never does. Instead, he watches SEB’s hands first — the twitch, the reach — before acting.

Dickie lunges in with a sickening CHOP, pinning SEB against the base of a very tall Christmas tree. Another follows, then a third, each one sharp and economical, Dickie intent on slicing the fight out of SEB…

JR: Dickie’s not wasting motion here. Every strike has a purpose.

JC: Dickie has first-hand experience with how dangerous it can be sharing the ring with SEB... One mistake, one overextension, and SEB can turn this whole thing around in a heartbeat.

The Universal champion hooks the arm and drags SEB away from the tree, looking for space, looking for leverage, before pulling SEB up and snaps him down with a…

NECKBREAKER!

JR: You know Dickie’s Russian, cuz that move looked like a Tchaikovsky ballet!

Watson nimbly rolls without releases the hold on SEB’s neck, floating over instinctively for the cover!

ONE—
SEB KICKS OUT!

JC: WOW! SEB refusing to give Dickie even the feeling of a two-count on him… You can feel how bad Dickie wants to right the record between himself and SEB…

JR: But outside, on the apron, you can feel how bad Scoops wants to prove he’s not being gifted a chance at the Universal title… He wants to know he’s earned it and he feels he can prove that by being the man that pins SEB tonight!

Dickie’s unfazed by SEB’s defiant kickout at one… already moving, rolling through and springing to his feet as SEB scrambles to hands and knees. Dickie grips SEB by the scruff of the neck— but SEB snaps off sudden mule kick that catches Dickie square in the gut!

Dickie stumbles, balance compromised for just a split second.

It’s all SEB needs.

He flips backward! PELE KICK! His boot catches Dickie atop the dome, as Dickie staggers into a long workbench littered with half-finished toys! Wooden blocks scatter like shrapnel…

As SEB unloads with clubbing forearms, each one thudding heavier than Dickie’s frame would like to absorb. Dickie tries to break through SEB’s barrage with an ear clap… But SEB breaks Dickie’s strike with a knee to the gut! Dickie doubles over, and SEB hauls him up —

SNAP SUPLEX, dumping Dickie hard onto the floorboards!

JC: Speaking of vibes, it’s important to remember! This is SEB’s first night as both tag-team champions!

JR: And you can see how much he feels he has to prove! The world is waiting on him to cash-in that briefcase for a shot at the Universal title… Could you imagine how obvious it would make the argument that he deserves a shot at the Uni if he can beat BOTH the Universal champion *AND* the Trillionaire’s choice for number one contender In a HANDICAP match?!?

SEB presses the advantage, grabbing Dickie by the hair and dragging him toward the center of the workshop. He glances once toward Scoops — still clutching his lower back on the steps — and smirks.

Then he runs.

RUNNING KNEE DROP straight to Dickie’s ribs!

Dickie gasps, rolling instinctively toward the nearest obstacle, clawing for breath. SEB doesn’t give him time. He pulls Dickie up again and whips him toward the fireplace —

Dickie twists mid-throw, planting a foot on the hearth and rebounding back with a sudden desperation clothesline! SEB drops to his back, rolling onto his feet…

But it buys space for Dickie to make a move towards his corner! Dickie collapses to one knee, chest heaving, eyes scanning.

He sees Scoops.

Scoops sees him.

Dickie dives, fingertips stretching — and tags Scoops back in!

The crowd ROARS as Scoops storms forward, pain forgotten, rage remembered. SEB turns just in time to eat a SHORT-ARM LEFT FOREARM that snaps the tag champs’ head sideways like it’s been yanked on a wire!

JC: CATTLE PROD! RIGHT ON THE BUTTON!

JR: That forearm has ended careers!

SEB stumbles, barely upright, and Scoops doesn’t hesitate. Another forearm. Then a third. Each one uglier than the last. Scoops grabs SEB and hurls him shoulder-first through the ropes and out onto the snow-dusted walkway outside the workshop!

Scoops follows immediately, stepping through the ropes with purpose. He hauls SEB up and rams him spine-first into the wooden railing, then again for good measure. Scoops draws back —

— AND DRIVES SEB THROUGH THE ROPES WITH A SHOULDER TACKLE, BOTH MEN CRASHING BACK INSIDE THE WORKSHOP!

JR: PRAIRIE DOG THROUGH THE ROPES!

JC: Scoops McGee just turned Santa’s Workshop into a warzone!

Scoops rolls to his knees, breathing heavy now, age and impact finally making themselves known. He wipes sweat from his brow and looks over his shoulder at Dickie.

Their eyes meet with a flash of acknowledgment.

JC: Lot of emotion here, Joe! Both these men realize they’re among the most effective pairs in the XWF today when working together!

JR: But they both want the top prize around their waist, Jacuinde! And one of them has it… and the other has spent almost five decades of his life chasing it!

Then Scoops turns back to SEB, grabs him by the collar — and SEB suddenly snaps awake, hooking Scoops’ arms and rolling through!

SMALL PACKAGE!

ONE—
TWO—

SCOOPS KICKS OUT HARD!

SEB scrambles back, wide-eyed now, realizing just how close that was. Scoops pushes up slowly, jaw clenched, fury simmering beneath the surface.

JR: That was inches away from disaster.

JC: And SEB knows it. One more mistake, and this could slip away from him fast.

SEB lunges forward again, desperation driving him, but Scoops meets him halfway — not with speed, but with mass and timing. He absorbs the impact, plants his feet, and hammers SEB with another stiff forearm that echoes off the workshop walls. SEB staggers, trying to reset, trying to build momentum, but Scoops clamps down, dragging him into a side headlock and grinding him to the floor.

This isn’t pretty. It’s deliberate.

Scoops keeps SEB grounded with short punches and elbows, smothering the spark before it can become flame. He hauls him up and dumps him with a back suplex, staying on him just long enough to remind SEB who controls the pace now.

JR: Scoops is doing exactly what he needs to do — slowing this down, cutting SEB off at the knees.

JC: Experience talking, Joe. Five decades of it! Scoops knows exactly how you stop a comeback before it ever gets started.

Scoops goes for another forearm—

—but Dickie steps in, slapping Scoops sharply on the shoulder.

TAG.

Scoops turns, eyes flaring. He growls at Dickie, but Dickie doesn’t acknowledge him with even eye contact, already moving towards SEB.

JR: Uh-oh.

JC: That tag didn’t look consensual.

Dickie slides under the ropes and darts in, snapping off a quick shin kick to SEB’s leg, then another, forcing him back. Scoops stands on the apron now, jaw tight, pacing like a caged animal.

Dickie peppers SEB with strikes — not powerful, but precise. Low kicks. A running elbow. A snapmare into a basement dropkick to the back of the head. He hooks the leg!

ONE—
SEB KICKS OUT!

JC: Again! SEB refuses to even let Dickie have a two-count on him!

Dickie rolls through and sits back on his heels, glaring toward Scoops.

Scoops bristles, gripping the top rope hard enough to shake it.

JR: You can feel the tension boiling over here.

JC: The House of Hardcore is winning, Joe — but right now, it feels like some bizarre tag-triple-threat match instead of a handicap match!

Dickie pulls SEB up again, looking to keep him on the back foot — but this time, SEB answers. A sudden elbow catches Dickie in the jaw. Another follows. SEB stumbles forward and drives Dickie into the corner, unloading with forearms of his own.

Dickie fires back, but his strikes lack the same stopping power. SEB shoves him away and swings —

Dickie ducks, rebounds off the ropes, and snaps off a running crossbody that sends both men crashing down in a heap.

Both crawl.

Both reach.

Dickie stretches toward Scoops.

TAG.

Scoops steps in, eyes never leaving Dickie as he does.

Scoops hammers SEB back down with a lariat, then another body shot that folds him in half. He drags SEB up and plants him with a sidewalk slam, then pauses — breathing heavy, hands on his knees.

JR: Scoops needs to be careful here. He’s blowing up.

JC: And SEB can smell it.

Scoops reaches down again — just a beat too slow.

SEB snaps his arm free and drills Scoops with a sudden DDT!

JC: DDT! FROM OUTTA NOWHERE!

JR: Sebastian Everett-Bryce refuses to lose!

The workshop erupts as both men hit the floor hard.

SEB crawls, shaking, pulling himself upright with the ropes. He’s not fast — but he’s moving. He’s surviving.

Dickie slaps the mat from the apron, shouting for the tag. Scoops rolls toward him, frustrated, exhausted —

TAG.

Dickie vaults in, adrenaline overriding pain, and immediately takes SEB back down with a low dropkick to the knee. He keeps moving, keeping SEB guessing, but now SEB is timing him. Reading him. Waiting.

A missed kick. A stumble.

SEB surges forward with a sudden German suplex, dumping Dickie hard on his shoulders!

JR: That’s the opening!

JC: SEB is clawing his way back into this match!

SEB pulls himself up again, slower now, but steadier.. As Dickie slowly rises…

Dickie and SEB collide again in the center of the workshop, both men moving on instinct now rather than strategy. A forearm from Dickie. A kick from SEB. Another forearm. Another kick. Neither gives ground, each strike shaving seconds off what little margin remains.

SEB suddenly pivots, planting his foot and drawing back—

JC: EMPIRE KICK—!

JR: NO!

Dickie sidesteps, the kick tearing through empty air as SEB stumbles past him. Scoops slams a fist against the apron, shouting for the tag, urgency bleeding into his voice.

Dickie doesn’t even glance his partner’s direction…

JC: Things have gotten ICE COLD between Scoops and Watson!

SEB recovers quickly, snapping a boot into Dickie’s gut and hauling him up, muscles coiling as he looks for the vertical suplex. Dickie fires back, elbowing SEB sharply in the side of the head — once, twice — slipping free and spinning behind him.

Dickie hooks the arms.

JR: DICKIE’S REVENGE—!

SEB drops his weight and rams another boot into Dickie’s midsection, breaking the grip. He shoves Dickie hard and sends him sprinting toward the ropes with an Irish whip.

And that’s when Scoops snaps.

He steps through the ropes, brass knuckles already discarded, forearm cocked and ready.

SEB turns, sees Dickie rebounding — and charges.

EMPIRE KICK!

At the exact same moment, Scoops surges forward from behind, swinging with everything he has left.

Dickie slides under the kick — survival instinct screaming — but has nowhere else to go.

CRACK.

The CATTLE PROD catches him square in the face.

The sound is sickening.

Dickie crumples instantly, skidding across the floorboards in a heap, eyes glassy, body limp.

JC: SCOOPS JUST ACCIDENTALLY DROPPED HIS OWN PARTNER!

JR: You sure that was an accident, Jacuinde? Scoops looks like he just let some steam off, straight into Dickie’s gob!

Scoops freezes.

Just for a fraction of a second.

He looks down at Dickie — at what he’s done — conflict flashing across his face like a storm breaking through fog.

Then SEB turns around.

And Scoops doesn’t hesitate again.

He roars, grabs SEB by the head and waistband, and drives him down with a SCOOP SLAM PILEDRIVER!

BIG SCOOP!

The workshop SHUDDERS as SEB is planted into the floor.

JR: BIG SCOOP! BIG SCOOP RIGHT ON THE MONEY!

JC: We might be looking at new tag champs!

Scoops hooks the leg and drops into the cover!

…

…

The referee waves it off.

Not legal.

Scoops’ head snaps up in disbelief, fury and panic crashing together. He curses loudly, scrambling to his feet as he realizes what he’s done.

JC: That’s right! Scoops McGee is NOTt the legal man!

JR: This could cost them EVERYTHING!

Scoops storms over, grabs Dickie by the wrist, and starts dragging him toward the corner, shouting at him to move, to wake up, to breathe.

Scoops drags Dickie the rest of the way, muscles screaming as he hauls dead weight to the corner. He hooks Dickie’s arm over the rope and slaps the tag with finality.

TAG.

The referee points. It’s official.

Scoops steps back through the ropes, chest heaving, eyes already locked on SEB as The Empire Builder slowly pulls himself upright. SEB shakes the cobwebs loose, one knee down, one foot planted, instinctively squaring his shoulders for what feels like the end.

And then—

The lights go out.

Total blackout.

Santa’s Workshop disappears into nothing but breath, shuffling boots, and a rising murmur of confusion from the crowd.

JR: What the—?!

JC: Oh no…

The lights snap back on.

Standing beside Sebastian Everett-Bryce.

Across from Dickie Watson.

Isaiah.
King.

JC: Oh my God! Isaiah King! There he is!

JR: The other half of the Exiles is in the building!

The reaction is immediate — shock detonates through the workshop like a bomb. Scoops freezes mid-step. Dickie’s eyes go wide despite the pain, disbelief cutting through the haze.

SEB eyes King with shock… As King eyes him coldly. SEB nods at his former partner, before taking a fighting stance, ready to go after Scoops and Dickie!

JC: It looks like Isaiah’s here to even the odds! And SEB, for once, isn’t turning down his help!

SEB turns toward Scoops, looking to charge…

…

But immediately Isaiah King tackles him from behind!

JR: ISAIAH KING JUST TOOK SEB DOWN!

King mounts him instantly, raining down fists to the skull, brutal and unrestrained. Elbows. Knees driving into SEB’s ribs. SEB tries to cover up, tries to roll, but King is relentless, snarling as months of resentment pour out through violence.

The referee doesn’t hesitate.

He throws his arms up and waves it off furiously.

NO CONTEST!

JC: The official has no choice! This match is over!

JR: Absolute chaos!

King hauls SEB up by the collar and dumps him under the bottom rope, following him outside and continuing the assault on the walkway. SEB finally fires back, desperation fueling him as he rams King into the barricade and, with a burst of strength, hurls him over it into the crowd!

The two disappear into the sea of bodies, fists still flying, security scrambling too late to matter.

Back inside the workshop, Scoops is screaming at the referee, veins bulging in his neck, pointing furiously toward the chaos he never asked for.

Behind him—

Dickie Watson pulls himself up by the ropes.

Slow.
Unsteady.
Eyes burning.

He steps right into Scoops’ space.

The arguing stops.

The words don’t.

Faces inches apart, the two trade venomous barbs — about trust, about pride, about that forearm. Scoops jabs a finger into Dickie’s chest. Dickie shoves it away. The tension snaps tight enough to cut steel.

JR: This is about to explode—

JC: WAIT—!

BOOM.

Charlie Nickles erupts from the chimney, soot-covered and furious, launching himself forward with a SPEAR that wipes out both men in one violent collision!

JR: CHARLIE NICKLES FROM THE FIREPLACE!

JC: X-TREME CHAMPION JUST TOOK THEM BOTH OUT!

Bodies everywhere.

[white]JC: Oh my God! What does this mean for the Tag champions?!? What does this mean for the Universal championship!?! What does this mean for Snow Pain, Snow Gain!?!

SEB and King fighting in the crowd.
Scoops and Dickie laid out in the workshop.
Charlie Nickles standing over them, chest heaving, eyes wild.

Pure pandemonium.

The camera struggles to keep up.

And then—

The feed cuts to black.

THANKS TO OUR MATCH WRITERS

‘Big’ Dick Lichter
Liam Desmond
Peter Principle

OUR SEGMENT WRITERS
Kieran King
Scoops McGee / Dickie Watson
Charlie Nickles / Doctor Holly Cambric / ‘Psycho’ Solomon
Micheal Graves
‘Psycho’ Solomon

AND EVERYONE WHO RP’D!

]]>

December - 15 - 2025

LIVE FROM THE LYSEFJORD

LYSEFJORD, NORWAY

XWF Tag Team Championship
Sebastian Everett-Bryce and ??? ©
- vs -
Scoops McGee and Dickie Watson
Standard Tag INSIDE SANTA’S WORKSHOP
SEB may declare his partner in his RP

Winner & Advancing in the TV Tournament - Centurion

"Stupid fuckin' haircut. You should definitely change it, DUMMY!"

He continues down the hallway until he reaches a door marked:

KRISTOFFER ARROYO
ANARCHY CHAMPION

Graves reaches into his cape and pulls out a piece of paper that reads:

NOTICE OF IMMINENT VIOLENCE

He presses it against the door and drives a nail through it with his forehead in one clean shot.

The camera moves in tight:

THIS IS YOUR COURTESY WARNING.
I'M NEXT!!!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!

…

HIGHLIGHT REEL

WINNER AND ADVANCING TO THE NEXT ROUND OF THE TV TITLE TOURNAMENT: AMBER MANSLEY!

HIGHLIGHT REEL

WINNER VIA SHOVING HIS OPPONENT DOWN SANTA’S CHIMNEY: KRISTOFFER ‘VAMP’ ARROYO!

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

Fame by Royal Deluxe kicks in.

Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame

With each of the hits of the word “Fame” a spotlight flashes back and forth between the walkway and a random spot in the audience.

After the final Fame, the lyrics end.

Na, na, na, na…

XWF Tag Team Championship
Sebastian Everett-Bryce and… nope, that’s it ©
- vs -
Scoops McGee and Dickie Watson
Standard Tag INSIDE SANTA’S WORKSHOP

NO CONTEST!

]]> <![CDATA[WARFARE - November 3rd, 2025]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49466 Wed, 05 Nov 2025 03:59:00 -0800 Peter Principle]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49466

November - 3 - 2025

LIVE FROM BANK OF OKLAHOMA CENTER

TULSA,OKLAHOMA

Betsy Granger
- vs -
Latoya Hixx
Falls Count Anywhere

'Psycho' Solomon ©
- vs -
Amber Mansley
X-Treme Rules

Jennie Nickles
- vs -
El Landerson
X-Treme Rules

Tatiana Jolee
- vs -
Reggie Estrada
Pure Wrestling Rules

Larry Tact
- vs -
Dwayne ‘The Grok’ Johnson 2.0
Singles

Kristoffer ‘Vamp’ Arroyo
- vs -
Sarah Wolf
Singles

Isaiah King
- vs -
Charlie Nickles
Singles

XWF Television Championship
Dickie Watson ©
- vs -
Scoops McGee
15 Minute Time Limit

Earlier tonight…

The camera pans down a row of heavily armoured men. Though their chests have ‘XWF’ printed in the smallest font legible, the symbol that dominates their apparel is a golden crown proudly dominating their vests, shoulders, and helmets.

Technically they are part of the ‘XWF Security Team.’

In reality, they are the ‘Kingsguard’, personal protectors of the King of the Universe, Kieran King.

And they are blocking Larry Tact's way.

Larry Tact: Do I really need to show my credentials?

Kingsguard Lieutenant: EVERYONE has to show their credentials.

Larry Tact: I even have a match tonight!

Kingsguard Lieutenant: Anyone could say that…

The Kingsguard member handed back some documentation to Tact.

Kingsguard Lieutenant: …But you're clear. The King will see you now.

The army parted and created a corridor of people guiding Tact through the Bank of Oklahoma Center. He funnelled out in front of a door that opened for him.

Stepping through, he was greeted by a long table covered with the most lavish feast! Meat, cheese, fruit, and desserts of all kinds were awaiting him!

And for all the food that was available, only four chairs were present.

In one sat Kristoffer “Vamp” Arroyo.

In another, Big D.

And at the head of the table, rising to greet Larry, was King Kieran himself.

King Kieran: Welcome, Lord Tact!

Kieran approached, beaming from ear to ear.

King Kieran: Welcome to the Royal Banquet—a feast fit for kings! And a king's most trusted allies!

He winked.

King Kieran: Come! Sit! Join the festivities! And get to know the men who you will be going to war with!

Kieran escorted Larry to his own chair before heading back to his own. Larry glanced from side to side.

D grunted a greeting as he chowed down on a chicken leg.

Vamp gave a more disturbing wave, delicately sipping from a goblet.

Kieran began dinging on the side of a glass to get all of their attention.

King Kieran: HEAR YE! HEAR YE! Gents… let's toast. TO WAR!

The camera fades out on King Kieran raising a glass to his forthcoming teammates.

In the Warfare GM’s office…

Jeff Bezos is checking his fit in the mirror, adjusting his watch made of child bones…

“The Zuck” is using a plastic spoon and a janitor’s bucket to mix a number of foods and drinks he gathered from the concession stand several weeks ago… converting them into some kind of… popcorn-hot-dog-soda-based moonshine…

And Elon sits in the GM’s chair, wringing his hands fiendishly…

Nadine gently rolls Peter’s chair beside Elon’s, to the side of his desk.

”Man! Getting to sit next to my favorite boss… while my other two favorite bosses are also in my office! This is, like… my sweetest dream!”

…

”Also I can speak normally again except for zushu.”

”He can’t say z’s right still…” Nadine shrugs. ”Doctors have no idea why.”

”Pretty crazushuy!”

”SILENCE.” Elon slashes through the chumminess.

…

Elon presses the button on the intercom.

…Nadine, who is in the room with Elon, presses her headset.

”Um… Yes?”

”Receptionist woman. Send in Scoops McGee.”

Nadine tilts her head. ”...Do you want me… I go get him now?”

…Elon refuses to look at her. ”Obviously! I said SEND HIM IN.”

…

”Okay, just… you didn’t make an appointment with him… so, I have to go… find him, I guess…”

…Nadine sighs and walks out of the office.

JC: What do the Trillionaires want with Scoops McGee?!?

JR: We’ll certainly find out later tonight!

JC: Folks we’re getting set for our opener! And this one’s a grudge match!

JR: Very true, Jacuinde! These two women went to WAR last Warfare! They battled around the entire arena! And now they’re getting ready to settle the score in a FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE match!

As the opening notes begin, the lights go out, save for a single spotlight on the top of the stage. Betsy comes out, but she’s only a silhouette at this point. Just as the drum strikes it’s second note, Betsy dabs and the lights come back. The song starts from the refrain as Betsy starts dancing down the ramp.

“Sin City’s cold and empty
No one’s around to judge me
I can’t see clearly when you’re gone-one-one”

Arms out, Betsy begins twirling around wildly, blonde ponytail whipping about with her, as she slaps hands with fans on both sides of the ramp. The chorus hits just as Betsy baseball slides into the ring.

JC: While it’s been absolutely fantastic having the Traveler back among the ranks of the XWF, It hasn’t exactly been a dream return run thus far for Betsy Granger!

JR: No doubt, Jacuinde! First, she gets ambushed in what’s supposed to be her debut match before the bell even rings against Latoya Hixx… THEN, she gets forced into a “King’z Rulez” match with Kieran King… which turns into another glorified mugging…

JC: And while she did come in an admirable third in the WarGames Captain’s match, drafting BOTH members of Pantheon AND THE GREEN MACHINE, Barney Green… She came inches short in an absolute barn-burner of a match with Kristoffer Arroyo!

JR: Betsy’s heading into a huge opportunity, captaining a team headed into WarGames where the Universal Title will be ON THE LINE! But, it’d be great if she went into that major Sunday with some momentum! One way to do that would be correcting the score with Latoya Hixx!

“And I said ooooh, I’m blinded by the lights
I can’t sleep until I feel your touch
And I said ooooh, I’m drowning in the night
Oh, when I’m like this, you’re the one I trust”

As the chorus chimes on, Betsy bounces up and hops up onto every ring corner, pumping her fist and bobbing her head in time with the song, getting the fans amped up for the upcoming bout. When she finishes playing up the fans, she starts bouncing in place, preparing mentally for the bout.

…

JC: Latoyaa Hixx is one of the strongest competitors in all the XWF!

JR: And for once she put that rage to good use last Warfare! She attacked Betsy as she was rolling to the ring, the two dueled up the ramp, all the way to the back… And Latoya SPEARED Betsy off the second floor of the parking garage… And they both crashed into a parked HUMMER!

JC: Some people might lick their wounds and recover… but Latoya turned around and challenged Betsy to a Falls Count Anywhere match! She seems confident, after her no-contest confrontation with Betsy… that a match without count-outs is going to serve her well!

JR: But Betsy’s one of the smartest people in the game when it comes to re-tooling! When it comes to improving on her last performance! Can she reset the pieces and survive an uncontained STORM!

The lights return to their default settings as Hixx walks straight down the aisle and she slaps a few hands of wrestling fans! As she walks by the chopper, she points at and pantomimes revving the engine!

Hixx climbs up the steel steps, then enters the ring…

The lights dim and she flexes her muscles one final time!

…

The two face off in the center of the ring… Betsy stretches, as if checking all the systems on a spaceship ready to hit warp drive… Meanwhile, Latoya is flexing and power-posing, eager to beat down her smaller opponent!

Finally! The bell rings!

Betsy Granger
- vs -
Latoya Hixx
Singles

Betsy and Latoya circle each other — Betsy loose and springy, a small smile on her lips; Latoya rigid and serious, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Latoya charges forward, immediately yanking Betsy in for a collar-and-elbow tie-up!

JR: As she often does, Latoya comes out of the gate, looking to set the pace!

Latoya’s power shows instantly — she sinks Betsy into a side headlock… then drags her backwards into the mat… And shoots Granger into the ropes with ease!

JC: That strength advantage is real, Brody!

JR: Betsy’s about to learn what happens when you skip leg day for six months in space!

Betsy shoots across the ring like a shooting star!

…She rebounds off the ropes… Latoya lines up a…

LARIAT!

…

But Betsy ducks under and twists out, snatching Latoya’s wrist mid-spin!

And in a blink, transitions into a…

RUNNING HURRICANRANA!

Latoya yelps, whipped through the air into a somersault, landing on her back!

JC: Wow! Absolutely mesmerizing maneuver by Betsy Granger!

JR: Someone beam up Scotty cuz… wait, no, Scotty, two to… No, hold on…

JC: Take your time, Rogan, not like the action’s going to keep going OH WAIT YES IT IS.

Latoya KIPS back up to her feet!

JC: Wow! Incredible agility by Hixx!

…But as Hixx gets onto her feet, Betsy’s waiting in her path, catching her arm…

AND WHIPPING her across the ring! ARM DRAG!

JC: Incredible anticipation by Betsy, knowing Latoya’s recovery and taking her right back to her back!

…Latoya, getting a little dizzy now from the sudden repeated knock-down-rise-knock-down cycle, backs up into the ropes!

Betsy points at her, before charging, looking for a…

LARIAT!

…But Hixx ducks under… Spins!

AND CLOTHESLINES BETSY! Both topple up and over the top rope and onto the padded concrete outside the ring!

JR: And here we go! Hixx takes the action outside the ring, where Hixx had the upper hand over Betsy last Warfare!

JC: Looked pretty even to me last Warfare, Joe! But Hixx could shut my mouth here if she can hit another spear and, this time, score a three-count

Latoya and Betsy woozily rise up from the padded concrete outside the ring… Latoya charges forward!

JC: Latoya going back to the well of surprising her opponent by… doing what she always does!

JR: At this point, it’s almost surprising when she does! It’s, like… there’s no way she’ll mindlessly charge forward, right? Oh shit, she’s mindlessly charging forward! I didn’t see not seeing it coming coming!

Hixx spins, looking for a…

DISCUS CLOTHESLINE!

…

Nope! Betsy ducks!

JR: …Mark my words, one of these days, it’s gonna WORK!

As Latoya skids by, Betsy latches her heels around Latoya’s ankle, bringing her down to the mat with a…

DROP TOE HOLD!

Betsy spins from her chest to above Latoya, locking Hixx’s ankle against her calf as Hixx grits her teeth in pain!

JC: Very impressive bit of mat wrestling by Granger!

JR: Wait, is it still mat wrestling if it doesn’t happen on the mat? They’re outside the ring right now… Total mind-bender.

JC: Either way, it’s falls count anywhere! And that also means submissions count anywhere!

The official manages to slide under the ropes, asking if Hixx wants to submit!

Granger turns her body over Hixx, applying maximum pressure onto Hixx’s knee!

…But Hixx pushes herself off her chest, using only her arms!

And twists herself and Granger out of the hold, spinning Granger back into the barricade!

JC: Wow! Genuinely impressive counter there by Hixx! Not only was her great strength on display there, but that also required a level of technical execution!

…

Betsy, surprised that Hixx found a way out of that hold, manages to shove off the barricade…

..

JUST AS LATOYA BARRELS THROUGH IT! GRANGER AND HIXX BOTH TACKLE THEIR WAY THROUGH AND THE FANS IN THE FRONT ROW GET RUN THE FUCK OVER!

JC: Oh my GAWD!

JR: Some close-up fans get free t-shirts or ring gear… But those lucky few are going home with potential CONCUSSIONS!

About six or eight fans look devastated from Hixx’s spear… Security has to carefully peel them away from the action, body by body, like a rescue team pulling unconscious bodies out of a car wreck…

Meanwhile, Latoya woozily crawls, arm over arm… approaching the prone Betsy…

JC: There’s no way! Does Hixx really have Granger’s number?!? Can she pull off the ultimate upset of her career?!?

Latoya manages to exhaustedly crawl, covering Betsy with one arm!

The official counts!

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NOOOOOOOOOOO!

BETSY KICKS OUT!

The crowd gasps! Before howling with pleasure that the match will continue!

JC: WOW! I can’t believe Betsy’s still in this one after that spear, Rogan!

JR: Betsy’s running on a mixture of rocket fuel and star power, Jacuinde! It’s gonna take more than one spear to knock her out of orbit!

JC: Well, it looks like Latoya’s aiming for number two!

Latoya shakes her head, stomping her feet, as the crowd starts a Hixx chant!

STORM IS CO-MIN’! clap clap clapclapclap!

STORM IS CO-MIN’! clap clap clapclapclap!

The security team orders the second and third tow to clear away to the aisles, demanding the fans make room for the fight… Betsy exhaustedly grips a steel folding chair, slowly rising to her feet… As Hixx stomps over the collapses barricade, backing up, brushing her foot against the ground like a bull preparing to charge!

Betsy pulls herself up, sitting in the chair she just used to peel herself off the ground…

SHE CHARGES!

SPEAR! SPEAR! SPEAR!

…

Is dodged!

Betsy shoves off the chair and leapfrogs over!

AND HIXX’S FACE EATS THE CHAIR BETSY WAS JUST SITTING ON!

JC: What a counter by Betsy Granger!

JR: But somehow, Hixx is still on her feet!

Indeed, Hixx’s face rebounds off the chair… her legs looking jellified as she staggers backwards…

Where Betsy tabletops Latoya onto her back, latching an arm between her legs into a schoolboy pin!

JC: Wait, is it a schoolgirl pin if they’re both women?

JR: Good question. Jamie, can you pull up a clip of ‘schoolgirls pinning each other’? For research purposes.

The official drops amidst the chaos and twisted metal in the first row to count!

ONE!

TWO!

Kickout!

JC: Betsy almost stole it there!

Latoya shakes up, fuming — and charges again, this time trying to trap Betsy against a still-standing portion of the barricade! Betsy backpedals into the corner with Latoya in hot pursuit!

Latoya dive-tackles forward!

…Betsy leaps over, rolling back towards the ring…

AND HIXX EATS BARRICADE WITH HER FACE! CRASHING THROUGH IT!

JC: Olé!

JR: The ring crew’s gonna have a nightmare fixing all this… And this is only the first match of the night!

…Hixx woozily shakes off the cobwebs, slowly peeling herself off the padded concrete and twisted metal of the barricade…

Just as Betsy springs from the floor onto the apron…

She backflips!

ASAI MOONSAULT! Taking Hixx onto her back!

JC: Holy COW! What a move!

Betsy lands chest to chest onto Latoya!

The official counts again!

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NOOOOOOO! LATOYA KICKS OUT!

JC: Hixx kicks out! But how much longer can she stay up amidst Betsy’s onslaught!

Betsy, seemingly undiscouraged by Hixx’s survival, points to the sky — the crowd roars!

…Hixx slowly stumbles onto her knees… Just as Betsy latches her hands around Hixx’s head, dragging her off her feet!

Wrapping her arm around Latoya’s neck — into a Cobra Clutch!

JC: Here we go! Betsy’s setting up for a “Down You Go!”

Betsy’s in position!

…But Latoya thrashes — elbowing Betsy in the ribs! She slips free! Betsy doubles over!

And just like that — Latoya scoops Betsy off her feet! Into powerslam position!

JC: Oh my! Latoya’s aiming to toss Betsy for her trademark Fallaway slam!

JR: She’s gonna launch Betsy into the stratosphere! Or at the very least into the fifth row!

Once more, the security team tells the front row fans to clear the way!

Hixx heaves Betsy up!

FALLAWAY SL-

NO!

Betsy turns her body, landing on her feet behind Latoya!

Catching her by the skull!

And Betsy SNAPS her backward into Cobra Clutch Legsweep!

DOWN!

YOU!

GO!

JC: THAT’S IT! THAT’S GOTTA BE IT!

The crowd explodes!

Betsy hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Winner: Betsy Granger

Betsy rolls to her knees, breathing heavy but grinning wide, looking up toward the lights as though soaking in starlight itself.

Betsy leans over the ropes, raising her hand to the fans — while Latoya sits up in the corner, rubbing her neck, shaking her head in disbelief…

JC: Betsy settles the score with Latoya and proves she can win a match ANYWHERE in the arena!

JR: A strong showing by Hixx, who at several points, looked like she might steal this one!

JC: Can’t argue with that, Joe! A valiant effort from Latoya Hixx — but tonight belongs to The Impossible Traveler.

We return to the backstage area where the shot hovers over a feast fit for, well, kings. Buxom women dote over the attendees sitting about the table: Kristoffer Arroyo, Larry Tact, Big D, and King Kieran himself. The meal truly has all the trimmings and no one is being shy about eating. But then, the moment is interrupted by the Universal Champion rising to his feet.

King Kieran: Gentlemen, I hope you’re all enjoying the meal. But I must take a moment to share something with you all.

Kieran snaps his fingers and a member of his honor guard brings him…file folders? Kieran holds them up as he speaks.

King Kieran: Now, War Games is all about strange bedfellows, so-to-speak, but I want to begin by saying that I trust you all implicitly. I wouldn't have drafted you if I didn't see something agreeable to The Crown. But, as they say, “trust, but verify.” To that end, I conducted background checks on you all.

Big D frowns and leans in, putting down a turkey leg he was munching on.

Big D: Whoa, whoa, whoa…how can you say you trust us in the same breath you say you were digging through our closets?

Kristoffer Arroyo: It’s fine by me. I’m an open book.

King Kieran quirks an eyebrow at Kristoffer.

King Kieran: Are you now?

He walks behind Kristoffer and places a file folder in front of him. It’s completely empty.

King Kieran: Because it seems to me your book doesn’t have any pages. I couldn’t find anything on you, Kristoffer. It’s as if you don’t exist. Which leads me to one conclusion: Kristoffer isn’t your real name, is it?

Kristoffer looks nonplussed, and shrugs his shoulders.

Kristoffer Arroyo: You hit the nail on the head, my king. It’s not my real name.

Larry Tact: Well how can we trust you if you’re not even using your real name?

Kieran gestures towards Tact, echoing his agreement with the man’s question.

Kristoffer Arroyo: My intention is not to deceive. I changed my name out of necessity. For a variety of reasons.

Big D: …which are?

Kristoffer Arroyo: I’m over 300 years old. It’s necessary for me to change my identity periodically. I can’t exactly go by the same name and persona for more than one lifetime, now can I?

Big D scoffs.

Big D: Oh come on with the vampire stuff man, you’re not really…

King Kieran holds up a hand.

King Kieran: I believe him.

Larry Tact: You do?

King Kieran: We’re all veterans here. We’ve all seen our share of strangeness: werewolves… demons… wizards from outer space. Betsy Granger has a space ship! Or a TARDIS. Or… something. I choose to believe Kristoffer is what he says he is. And for the record, Kristoffer, changing your name does NOT make you a blank slate. Just so long as it doesn’t come up and bite any of us in the ass.

Kristoffer Arroyo: I can assure you it won’t.

Kieran nods and then he turns to Big D and places a file folder down in front of him.

King Kieran: Sir D! You have quite the storied history. Almost as storied as mine. There was a lot to sort through. But one incident stood out heads and shoulders above everything else to me.

Big D looks a trifle concerned.

Big D: What’s that?

King Kieran: Does the name Zero ring a bell?

Big D looks down at the table.

King Kieran: I can see that it does. But hey, no judgement from me. I prize that kind of ruthless aggression.

Kristoffer Arroyo: Care to fill us in, Sir D?

Big D looks decidedly uncomfortable, shifting in his seat.

Big D: I’m not about that anymore.

King Kieran: So are you going to fill them in? Or shall I?

Big D steels himself.

Big D: I will.

A pause.

Big D: It was a long time ago. Way before the XWF. I was in a promotion that wasn’t giving me the opportunities I felt like I deserved and I…I snapped. And I….well, I attacked an opponent’s wife.

Kristoffer’s features light up.

Kristoffer Arroyo: Oh how delightfully NASTY of you.

Big D: I’m not proud of it!

Big D snapped back. Kieran held up his hands placatingly.

King Kieran: Hey, this is a judgement-free zone, D. I’m sure we’ve all done things that we regret. But as I said, that kind of ruthlessness, well, it can be a boon to the team.

Big D grimaced.

Big D: I’m trying to get away from that side of me. That’s not who I choose to be anymore.

Kieran’s expression is difficult to read at first, but he turns it into a smile.

King Kieran: Well, Sir D, I’m sure that regardless of how you feel, when push comes to shove you’ll do what’s in the interests of the team. Right?

Big D hesitates a moment.

King Kieran: …..right?

Big D: Yeah. Yeah. I’m a team player.

Kieran claps his hands together.

King Kieran: Wonderful! Glad to hear it.

The champ turns to consider Larry Tact.

King Kieran: Which brings us to you, Larry.

He places Larry’s folder down in front of him. Larry opens it, and after sifting through it for a moment frowns and looks up at Kieran.

Larry Tact: This isn’t about me. It’s about Morgan.

King Kieran: Right. You know Larry, as I researched you I discovered that the most interesting things about you were right out in the open. Including your family.

Larry Tact: I’m not sure I appreciate you digging around when it comes to my family.

Tact’s voice is steely. But Kieran smiles in response and again holds up his hands.

King Kieran: Easy, Larry. Consider it a gift. If I can find her, so can certain other parties, no? Read through the file. See where the holes are in your family’s security. Might want to tighten things up, eh?

Tact’s affect flattens and he looks back down at the file, clearly uncomfortable with the ambiguousness inherent in King Kieran’s “gift”.

Satisfied, Kieran sits back down in his chair and takes a sip of whatever liquor fills his chalice.

His team-mates look on expectantly.

Big D: …And you?

Kieran looks up confused.

Larry Tact: We all shared. How about you?

Kristoffer Arroyo: We should know who we're following…

Kieran shrugged.

King Kieran: Fair enough. My follies are as public as my dominance. Ten years of delinquency, degeneracy, and deviance—imbibing every substance I could get my hands on while falling both in and out of favour with the types of people whom you never want to fall out with. I've been shot, stabbed, set on fire… all the classics really. But, I've never hidden any of that. You lads want to know the real goss’?

Does the name ALIAS ring a bell?

I bet it does. The last Universal Champion to survive War Games.

Did you guys know that he blames me for being captured and turned into… whatever he is.

Did you know… he's right?

And you know what?

Kieran jabs a fork into a juicy piece of steak.

King Kieran: If it got me where I am today… I'd do it all again.

Later… In the Warfare GM’s office…

Bezos and Zuck are pushing Principle backwards and forwards in the wheelchair, like they’re playing catch…

”Haha!” Peter laughs as he’s thrust back and forth! ”It’s like I’m part of the game!”

Elon sits at the desk, wringing his hands fiendishly.

BZZZZZZT. ”Mister Musk, I found Scoops McGee for you.”

Elon’s brow furrows. ”Who?”

”...Wrestling legend Scoops McGee?”

”Oh yes. Fine. What’s he here for?”

”...You wante-... ugh, I’m sending him in.”

The door opens. Scoops McGee rolls in and the live crowd goes fuckin’ NUTS.

So loud, Elon Musk looks up, clocking the sound of the crowd cheering.

”Ah, they must be applauding that I’m on-screen.”

“So what the Hell is all this about?” Scoops asked as he scratched his beard.

”Ah, the Big Scoop himself.” Musk extends a hand toward McGee. ”Please don’t actually shake my hand, I prefer not to touch poors, but imagine we’re shaking hands.”

“...Uh-huh.” Scoops crosses his arms with a stern look on his face, staring at Elon’s soft hands with an agitated brow, certain they’ve never worked a day…

”Excellent, I can see your mind imagining the handshake.” Elon returns his hand to his side. ”Scoops… I feel like the roster… the ‘secondary talent’...” Elon raises his hands to deliver finger quotes. ”Think that we owners… aka the ‘primary talent’... are against them. That we’re somehow opposing them. And we’d like to demonstrate how we can help dreams come true for you wrestlers!”

Elon smiles, gesturing towards Scoops McGee. ”Starting with you, Mister McGoo.”

”McGee.” Bezos corrects.

”Geseundheit.”

Elon looks McGee up and down.

”Scoops, you’ve been loyal to the sport of wrestling for four decades. You’re beloved the world over by fans young and old… It’d be foolish of US not to see how much value you bring to the table.”

…The crowd pops as Elon seems to confirm what they feel: a pure fan adoration for Scoops McGee!

…

”Not as a Universal champion, mind you. But maybe as a secondary champion!”

…The cheers quiet. Scoops’ face darkens as he stares at Elon.

”...Eh, maybe like… Ooh! We could bring back the 24/7 Freestyle title. And you could just… have it! Wouldn’t that be nice for you? A nice belt to hold up your geriatric pants.”

The crowd goes full on booing Elon for denigrating Scoops.

”Think about it, Scoops. You could be employed the rest of your life in wrestling! As a sort-of… side-show! Like a… huh, ‘he’s still doing it! That’s nice!’ You’d never have to worry about money at the family farm again… You’d be set for life.”

“So long as you serve the interest of the Corporation.”

Elon extends his hand.

”Whaddya say Scoops? Again, do not shake my hand, but if you agree, imagine shaking my hand in a legally binding fashion…”

Scoops pauses, then a chuckle slips out from his lips as he wags a finger right at Elon.

“I know you, you stupid sumbitch. I know yer’ games. The way people like you try to play. The way you people think of us like we’re human chess pieces on the board.” Scoops banged his fist on the table, staring daggers at Elon. “Why the fuck would I ever wanna trust a little piece of shit like you? Huh?”

The two glare at each other, the tension in the room thickening.

“And while we’re at it, just who the fuck do you think I am? ‘Secondary champion,’ my ass. You stupid fucks are probably the reason why I’m facin’ my own tag partner come War Games for the TV champion, because you people knew I was gonna draft him. Well, guess what?”

Scoops grins, straightening himself as he paces back and forth across the room. “I don’t care about what little plans you wanna pigeonhole me into to get me out of the way. Freestyle, Heavymetalweight, shove all those damn titles straight up yer’ asses. The only title I need is the damn UNIVERSAL TITLE!”

The fans pop huge at Scoops’ words! And he starts jabbing a finger at each of the billionaires, plus Peter!

“And I don’t need the help of a buncha yellow-bellied, mealy-mouth, cross-eyed, stutterin’ sumbitches to make that dream come true! So, Mister Musk, I say you take yer’ damn offer and shove it straight outta the window before you hop out of there too!”

Elon blinks as Scoops storms out, done with this tomfoolery.

…

”I don’t speak Hill Country. Did he say ‘yes’?”

Zuck and Principle both shrug.

Bezos sighs and shakes his head ‘no’...

Elon’s face contorts into displeasure. ”Well, then… If Scoops McGee isn’t with us…”

Elon sneers insidiously…

”That makes him against us…”

Amber Mansley is already in the ring as Warfare comes back from commercial.

"Gored" by Loathe plays throughout the arena. The lights go out. Once the beat drops, a spotlight shines on the entryway, where Solomon appears inside the light, clad in a black hoodie over his ring gear and a ski mask, kneeling on his right knee. As the lyrics come in, he stands, removes his hood and surveys the crowd as sparks rain down around him. He slowly makes his way toward the ring, sneering at fans along the way. He circles the ring and slides under the bottom rope. He peers out at the crowd in the middle of the ring through his ski mask. He flips off the people in the crowd, making sure to show hate to each side of the ring equally.

JC: Psycho Solomon, he’s looking as ready as ever tonight for this Xtreme Championship match.

JR: It’s a chance for him to prove his many haters wrong, Jack. He knows he’s got something to prove tonight after coming in last during the Captain’s Match last Warfare.

JC: I would argue he got screwed during there considering how the final two played out, but regardless, you’re right that he’s going to want to bring nothing short of his best here tonight…

He then readies himself for the match, feeling pity for those who have to face him.

'Psycho' Solomon ©
- vs -
Amber Mansley
X-Treme Rules

DING! DING! DING!

Amber and Solomon share a glance at each other, the two quickly circling around the ring as the match gets under way.

JC: And we’re off, folks! It’s early in the night, but this Xtreme title match could be very promising to watch here tonight.

JR: It’s a big fight feel here on Warfare. HUGE implications for how War Games could go if Mansley could knock off a Captain here AND take their title headed into the event.

JC: Lot to prove here for both sides tonight. I’m sure Solomon’s going to want to make sure he heads into War Games with a full head of steam.

The two approach each other in the center of the ring, Solomon looking to offer a collar-and-elbow tie-up… Amber takes a look at Solomon, goes in for the tie-up ONLY TO SLIP UNDERNEATH PAST HIM!

Solomon turns to look at Amber, who scoffs and flicks her hair, before wagging a finger right back at Solomon!

JR: Amber’s sure feeling full of herself here, gotta be feeling good about this match.

JC: Well, Joe, she’s an expert in the usage of mind games, so she’s sure to be- WOAH!

A HUGE uppercut from Solomon catches Amber off-guard as she gets taken right to the corner from the hard blow!

JC: Big cheap shot there from Solomon just hit hard!

JR: Can’t leave yourself open in the ring too long against a champ!

Amber tries to quickly adjust herself, but Solomon is already on her in the corner! He delivers some strong boots right to her midsection, hammering away on her small frame and causing her to hunch over to gasp for air!

The ref looks like he’s about to step in, but Solomon immediately stares daggers at him, causing him to back away in fear!

He turns around, but Amber’s come back to life! She nails Solomon with a hard right hand that gets him to back up, before she raises her leg and kicks him back towards the center of the ring!

She turns around! And moves onto the top turnbuckle! She’s looking for a Moonsault…

BUT SOLOMON MOVES IN AND TUGS HER BACK BY THE ANKLE!

AMBER FALLS AND HITS HER HEAD RIGHT OFF OF THE TOP TURNBUCKLE!

JR: Oh, shi-

JC: Amber just hit the metal hard there, folks, and she’s looking out of it. Bad falls happen from time to time, but that could be a concussion right there…

Amber tries to wildly swing for a punch, but Solomon steps back and away from it! But it allows him to dart inside for a HUGE lariat that turns Amber inside-out!

Solomon doesn’t go for the cover, though. Instead, he goes out of the ring to a chorus of boos, shoving the ring announcer out of the steel chair they were sitting in so that they can fold it up.

Solomon is almost feeding off of the boos as he comes back to his feet, willing Amber to get back up. She’s dazed, confused, but slowly uses the ropes for support as she manages to claw her way back.

JC: Don’t turn around, Amber-!

JR: I don’t think she can hear anything right now, let alone you!

SOLOMON SWINGS-!

BUT AMBER KICKS SOLOMON IN THE GUT!

A QUICK ELBOW CATCHES SOLOMON RIGHT ON THE JAW!

AMBER BACKS UP… AND MANAGES TO DROPKICK THE CHAIR RIGHT INTO SOLOMON’S FACE! SOLOMON DROPS DOWN TO A KNEE!

JR: Credit where it’s due, Amber’s trying to fight her way back into this thing! The Psycho’s looking a bit groggy himself!

JC: Can she capitalize, though?!

Amber takes a deep breath, composing herself! She runs off the ropes with as much steam as she can muster, putting Solomon on a target for herself-!

BUT SOLOMON THROWS THE STEEL CHAIR RIGHT INTO AMBER’S SKULL AS IT BOUNCES OFF OF HER!

THE CROWD BOOS! SOLOMON MAKES HIS WAY BACK TO HIS FEET, BARKING AT AMBER! SHE’S CRAWLING, TUGGING AT HIM AS SOLOMON HOISTS HER RIGHT BACK UP, DEADLIFTING HER BEFORE THROWING HER INTO THE AIR-

AND SLAMS A FOREARM RIGHT INTO HER SKULL!

JC: Ashes to Ashes right there! Psycho Solomon trying to make a statement once he caught Amber off guard here tonight!

JR: Almost makes you wonder what could have been…

Solomon rolls Amber over and hooks the leg as he grins maniacally!

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

WINNER AND STILL XTREME CHAMPION: ‘PSYCHO’ SOLOMON!

JC: That’s about as dominant of a win as you could ask for in the ring tonight, Joe, but we’ve got a lot more action coming soon!

JR: They oughta check on Amber after that match, I’m positive she’s gonna have a concussion.

JC: Her and her War Games team captain, Scoops McGee, after the tumble he took last Anarchy, it seems…

Warfare fades to commercial as Solomon holds his Xtreme Championship high.

Later Still… In the Warfare GM’s office…

Bezos is in front of a dry-erase board.

As Elon and Zuck stand beside it…

Somehow, Peter Principle is hanging upside down in his wheelchair, clinging on for dear life.

”Um… guys… this is still really fun, but… could someone get me down from here…?”

”SILENCE, SLAVE!” Elon steeples his hands below his chin. ”We’re talking business…”

”Right.” Bezos pulls out a dry-erase marker drawing on the board. ”This is important. We said all XWF titles will be on the line in WarGames.”

Elon nods. ”Exactly. ALL titles will be ON-THE-LINE at WarGames!”

Zuck also nods. ”Hella belts, hella title changes, hella good product, yo.”

”Right, sure.” Bezos nods along with his associates. ”But… how do we put that into practice?” Bezos looks at his associates, awaiting some actual design to accompany the buzzwords. ”Like, how does that work INSIDE the WarGames match?”

…Elon murmurs thoughtfully.

…

”Got it.” He snaps his fingers. Bezos leans in curiously.

”We take all the belts. ALL of them, right? One-hundred percent of the belts!”

…

”And we put them ON-THE-LINE! At WarGames!”

Zuck’s eyes widen as he presses his hands to his head and then explodes them outward.

”Eazy E, that is CRAZY!”

”Crazushuy!” Principle echoes from the ceiling!

”...Exactly like Pete just said, Crazushuy!” …Zuck nods thoughtfully. ”But maybe it’s just crazushuy enough to workushuy!”

…

”You didn’t say anything.” Bezos sighs. ”Like, yes, the concept of all titles being on the line has people’s interest, but… we just have an idea. Now, we actually have to make it happen! Bring it to life!”

”Ugggggh…” Elon leans back in his chair impatiently. ”We’re the Trillionaires! Can’t we just… pay someone else to do it for us?”

”No, we…”

…

……

”Oh yeah. No, we totally can.”

Jennie Nickles walks onto the ramp with a quiet confidence. A splattering of boos and cheers can be heard throughout the arena: a clearly divided a reception. As Jennie walks down towards the ring, she passes both fans and haters. A group of mourners hold up signs reading “SCARLET VERDICT FOR PRISON!”, but a group of fans on the opposite side of the aisle hold up signs reading “THE VICTIMS DESERVED IT!”. Jennie pays no attention to either side, just sliding into the ring under the bottom ropes before waiting patiently for the Bit Luchador.

JC: And here is the “Scarlet Verdict” herself, one of the XWF’s most notorious new signings! A former serial killer, a former prosecutor, and now one of the fastest rising stars in all of professional wrestling.

JR: Yeah, I don’t like her. I’m not really cool with that whole “murdering people for being problematic” style of woke BS!

JC: I don’t think anything about Jennie is “woke”, Joe.

JR: Killing rapists and pedophiles for not being “P.C.” sounds pretty woke to me!

When Booyka 619 hit's he walks out on stage and kneels down on one knee and prays. He gets up and points to the Fans in Pyro fireworks burst open and switch to the other side of the stage in does the same thing in after he was done he slowly walks down the ramp in slaps some little kids high fives and he stops and stares at the kid in hands him his Luchdor Mask to him and heads straight towards the ring and hops on the turnbuckle and pose both fingers in mid air and walks to the other side turnbuckle in does the same thing mid finger in the air in he gets down and waits for the match to start.

JC: And now for the Bit Luchador himself, El Landerson! If you love high-flying action, you will love the bit luchador!

JR: He’s gotten off to a rocky start so far in the XWF, dropping matches to both Ace Sky and Razor Blade: but he’s right on the verge of really turning things around. A win here tonight over Jennie Nickles could be just what he needs to get some momentum!

Jennie Nickles
- vs -
El Landerson
X-Treme Rules

The opening bell rings and the Tulsa crowd claps a steady rhythm as Jennie Nickles and El Landerson circle up. Jennie keeps her stance low and tight, eyes forward, expression calm. Landerson bounces on his toes, shaking out his wrists, light on his feet as if the canvas were a trampoline.

JC: El Landerson looks like he’s listening to a song only he can hear.

JR: Yeah, it’s the sound of his own heartbeat. That little dude runs to the beat of his own drum!

They step together for a collar-and-elbow. Jennie shoves Landerson back toward the ropes. He ducks under her arm and darts away. Landerson hits the ropes, springs to the middle, and flings himself backward with a cross-body. Jennie catches him but the momentum carries both to the mat. Landerson pops up first, and when Jennie finally gets up Landers throws a dropkick to her shoulder, then another. She drops to a knee.

JC: Quick start by the Bit Luchador! He’s got to keep the pace frantic if he wants a shot to win here.

JR: You bet. Jennie’s still a novice in that ring. If he can keep up the intensity, she’ll look like a fish out of water!

Landerson races to the corner and scales the turnbuckles like he’s on autopilot. He leaps into a spinning head-scissors, flipping Jennie across the ring. The crowd pops! Landerson runs again, jumps to the middle rope, and hits a springboard back-elbow that knocks Jennie into the ropes. She catches herself before falling through, grabbing onto the top rope just in time to balance herself.

Landerson pumps his fist and screams “Vámonos!” as the crowd begins eating out of the palm of his hand.

He charges again, ducks a lariat, rebounds, and connects with a running forearm. Jennie stumbles but doesn’t go down. He hits a second. She staggers to one knee. Landerson sprints for the ropes once more.

JC: He’s hitting her with everything he’s got!

Landerson leaps for a flying knee, but Jennie catches him in midair! She pivots, and then drives him spine-first into the corner with a thunderous thud! The crowd winces as the frantic Luchador suddenly grinds to a halt.

JC: That’s one way to change the tempo.

JR: That’s called hitting the emergency brake.

Jennie grabs the middle rope for leverage and starts driving her shoulder into Landerson’s midsection. Then she backs off cleanly, grabbing Landerson by the mask and slinging him out of the corner with a snapmare. She follows with a stiff kick between the shoulder blades that echoes through arena. Landerson arches in pain and rolls away, clutching his back.

Jennie stalks him, methodical now. She hooks his leg, drags him to the center of the ring, and drops a knee right into the small of his back. Landerson lets out a sharp yelp. Jennie keeps hold of the leg, transitions smoothly into a single-leg crab.

JC: Textbook control from Jennie Nickles. She’s isolating the back after that corner collision.

JR: She’s looking damn good in there for a novice! She must’ve been training with her brother, because her technical skills have vastly improved from just last Warfare!

Landerson claws for the ropes and reaches them, but they’re no use! This is an X-treme rules match! The crowd rallies. “LAN-DER-SON! LAN-DER-SON!” but it doesn’t do him any good. Jennie pulls him back two feet and leans deeper into the hold. His hand hovers over the mat, trembling. The ref is right there asking if he wants to quit. Landerson shakes his head violently and digs his elbows into the mat, dragging himself forward again. But this time, he’s able to roll through and fling Jennie off of him!

Jennie is forced to release, but she stays crouched beside him, watching him struggle to get up on a wounded leg. Landerson uses the ropes to pull himself up. Jennie approaches; he surprises her with a back elbow to the jaw, and then a second! He sprints to the ropes, vaults to the middle strand, and springs backward with a moonsault that flattens both of them. The crowd explodes as the momentum shifts!

JC: Desperation move, but it paid off!

JR: He just turned his body into a missile. I love this kid’s bad decision making.

Landerson crawls over for a cover! The ref drops down to make the count!

1!

2!

KICKOUT!!

Jennie powers out, rolling to her side. Landerson slaps the mat, pushes himself to his feet, and signals for the Landerson Frog Splash. He climbs the turnbuckles, steadying himself at the top. The audience rises with him.

He leaps-

But Jennie rolls aside at the last possible second!

Landerson hits hard, chest first. The impact knocks the wind out of him. He gasps and clutches his ribs. Jennie kneels beside him, shakes the cobwebs loose, then grabs him by the wrist.

She yanks him up, Irish whips him into the ropes, and catches him on the rebound with an ODE TO CHARLIE (buckshot lariat!)

She makes the cover!

1!

2!!

3!!!

Winner - Jennie Nickles

The bell rings and Jennie lets out a long exhale. The referee raises her arm, and she takes a moment to look down at Landerson, who’s barely moving but trying to sit up.

JC: Jennie Nickles picks up another impressive victory on Warfare. Methodical, confident, and all business.

[white]JR: She didn’t just win, she sent a message. No chaos, no interference, just wrestling skill and control. War Games is around the corner, and she’s going into it with all the momentum!

Even Later Still… In the Warfare GM’s office…

Anarchy GM ‘Big’ Dick Lichter finishes drawing on (mostly the bottom third of) the dry-erase board.

”There we are, gentlemen.” Lichter re-caps his red marker. ”Think it’s pretty simple. First round, all titles will be on-the-line. Pinfall or submission upon the current titleholder will change the title’s hands to the competitor who secures that pinfall or submission.”

”Except for Kieran King! He can’t win any other titles by pinfall or submission!”

…Lichter tilts his head. ”...Okay. Why, tho?”

”Well… He’s already Universal champion…”

”Also, fuck him!”

…Lichter shrugs, uncapping his marker and writing that down.

”Sure, fine. And then in the final, ONLY the Universal title is on the line. The Universal title will change hands by pinning or submitting the current Universal champion.”

”Logical. Thank you, Dick.”

”Hell yeah, Dickie L with the mad W!”

…

”One more thing.”

Bezos and Zuck turn to look at Elon.

”Ex-squeeze me?”

”What’s your play here, Musk?”

Elon strokes his chin thoughtfully.

”Whoever’s left in the final, all pinfalls and submissions leading up to the final pin… if they’re not on the Universal champion? The title doesn’t change hands.”

…

”But!” Elon lifts a finger into the air.

”But when the last competitor is eliminated? WhoEVER scores that pinfall or submission? Leaves WarGames as the Universal champion!”

”...That’s some bullshit.” Lichter clears his throat. ”So someone can become Universal champion without even pinning Kieran King?”

”That’s…” Bezos strokes his chin. ”Diabolical, Elon. Suddenly, even if Kieran manages to reach the final elimination with multiple teammates left, they’re no longer his allies…”

”But his obstacles toward escaping with the Universal title…” Elon nods as his friend seeing the wisdom in his vision.

Bezos smiles insidiously, before spinning back to Dick. ”Write it down, Lichter.”

…Lichter begrudgingly writes it down.

JC: Did you hear that?!? Kieran King can lose the Universal title without even getting pinned or submitted at WarGames!

JR: It’s a game-changing announcement, Jacuinde! Whoever scores the last pinfall or submission to end the WarGames match… Even if they don’t pin Kieran… Even if they’re on Kieran’s team! They’ll leave WarGames as Universal champion!

JC: This just made an already explosive WarGames even more explosive!

JC: Folks, we’ve got a lot of potential previews tonight for WarGames! Matchups between competitors headed into one of the largest matches in XWF History! But this next one is between future teammates!

JR: Absolutely, Jacuinde! Tatiana Jolee and Reggie Estrada are both members of Team Roxy Cotton, who’s aligned with The Trillionaires! What on earth could they be thinking putting two teammates in a match with WarGames just two weeks away?!?

JC: Maybe a chance to see each other’s styles in action firsthand? Either way, it’s next!

The smoke fills up with gray on the stage, as the arena lights flickers. Then once we see "The Rebellious One" on the X-Tron, then we hear the boom bap of 1999 on the the X-Tron itself. Then we see Reggie coming onto the stage with his hoodie on, and he shadow boxes infront of the camera and talkin’ smack as he walked down, then he gives the fans on the ramp some dap as he went to the ring.

JC: Reggie Estrada! The king of controversy! The ultimate upset artist!

JR: Reggie Estrada has made a career out of pulling off unbelievable comebacks! He pinned Robert “The Omega” Main in 2020! He beat PWV World Heavyweight champion, JC Keeton!

JC: There’s a lot of reasons Roxy Cotton would want him on her WarGames squad, Joe! He’s got that unique gene for clutch energy! He can take over a match when you least expect it! He can be a difference maker!

JR: But he’s also just about the polar opposite of Tatiana Jolee! The Canadian Icon is dedicated to pure wrestling and technical grappling! Reggie’s pure flash and showmanship!

JC: How are these two very different ingredients going to mesh at WarGames? Maybe we’ll get a clue watching them go head-to-head tonight!

CHOKE! CHOKE! CHOKE! CHOKE! CHOKE!

Reggie reaches the bottom of the ramp with a simply sildes into it! He steps to the center of the ring… and starts twisting his wrists, raising his arms…

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

And Reggie wraps his hands around his throat! The Reggie choke! And the crowd loves it!

Reggie raises his fist up to the crowd, showing the people some love as his theme fades out.

Tatiana Jolee
- vs -
Reggie Estrada
Pure Wrestling Rules

JC Here we go, folks! Pure Wrestling Rules in effect — three rope breaks, no closed fists, and victory only by pinfall or submission. And Brody, this one’s got layers — these two are teammates in Roxy Cotton’s WarGames squad, but tonight? It’s about proving who deserves to lead that team from the mat!

JR: Jacuinde, watch from the opening bell for Reggie to try and throw Tatiana off her rhythm. This fight’s going to be a well-tuned wrestling machine versus a hammer trying to break the machine open from the outside!

Tatiana Jolee steps from her corner with poise — chin high, shoulders back — breathing through her nose…

Reggie bounces on his heels, restless energy rippling through him. He slaps his chest, then the turnbuckle pad, hyping himself up. The crowd feeds him noise, and he feeds off it right back — jawing at a heckler in the front row, smirking. When he turns back to Tatiana, she’s already in stance, motioning for a tie-up.

JC: TJ calling for a little collar-and-elbow to start off this pure wrestling rules match!

JR: Not really Reggie’s forte! He only likes pulling collars to get a striking advantage… though he also loves throwing elbows!

Reggie laughs, shaking his head — exaggeratedly loosening his shoulders, like he’s pretending not to care. But there’s a flicker in his eyes: she’s composed, and that bothers him.

They circle. Tatiana’s footwork is calm, light, technical — Reggie’s is jumpy, full of nervous ticks.

Reggie suddenly steps up, like he’s going to lock-up! Tatiana braces herself!

…But then he staggers backwards, into the ropes, yawning… Like this pure wrestling shit is whatevz.

JC: Reggie showing a little disrespect to Tatiana in the early-going here! Tatiana is one of the most composed competitors in the XWF, but Reggie loves getting under anybody’s skin…

JR: It’s exactly how he pulls off his upsets, Jacuinde! Getting people to abandon their gameplan, trying to hurt him! But will TJ take the bait?

Tatiana tilts her head — patient, but a tight smile betrays her irritation. She catches Reggie against the ropes, and he can’t escape! Collar-and-elbow.

The instant they touch, her movements become surgical: she rolls her shoulder underneath his arm, guiding him into a clean side headlock like she’s teaching a wrestling exhibition and using him as her teaching tool!

Reggie’s face contorts — the pressure’s real — and his hands slap at her waist, trying to push her off. He grits his teeth, muttering something in spanish under his breath, and Tatiana just twists tighter, lowering her center of gravity. Her expression stays blank, professional — almost bored.

JC: That is NOT where Reggie wants to be, letting Tatiana grapple him!

JR: That’s textbook Tatiana Jolee! Look at that torque — she’s controlling Reggie Estrada like he’s a practice dummy!

Reggie digs a quick forearm into Tatiana’s side!

JC: Oh! That was almost a closed fist! Remember, a closed fist punch is an immediate DQ in this match!

JR: Calm down, Jacuinde! He hit her with his forearm! Reggie knows exactly how to push the rules so they bend but don’t break!

TJ’s lips part with a pained grunt from Reggie’s forearm! Reggie tries to reel back another one…

But, TJ immediately transitions: arm drag! The sound of the mat popping under Reggie’s back echoes through the arena.

Reggie rolls up quick, red-faced, embarrassed. Tatiana stands tall again, calm and ready, one hand extended, inviting Reggie to try again!

JC: Oh my! I think TJ’s trying to teach her teammate a little something about wrestling before WarGames!

Reggie’s jaw tightens. He wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist, nods like he’s ready to try that again… He surges off the mat and they lock horns again!

He muscles her into a corner, chest heaving, adrenaline bubbling. The ref steps in — “break it up.” Reggie barely gives a clean break, raising his hands halfway — but his body leans forward, close enough for Tatiana to feel his breath.

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she slaps his chest… CHOP!

Reggie’s face flushes red. He backs up a step, then rushes forward again — impulsive — but Tatiana sidesteps with matador precision, sending him stumbling into the ropes. She grabs his wrist, snaps off a quick arm wringer, then transitions to a hammerlock!

JC: Reggie trying as hard as he can to muddle with Tatiana’s prep, but so far Tatiana has kept this match firmly in her wheelhouse! It’s been all technical wrestling from the opening bell, baby!

Reggie grimaces, biting his lip, trying to fight out. His free hand twitches toward the ropes — one rope break burned early would be a disaster. Instead, he drops down, rolls, and counters with a lucha roll, slipping out of Tatiana’s grip!

Both pop to their feet, and resume circling! The crowd applauds the exchange.

Tatiana gives a curt nod, almost approvingly — she appreciates the technique, even if it’s raw. Reggie just sneers back, shaking his arm out. He’s frustrated, but that hint of respect stings more than any hold.

JC: You can see the contrast clear as day! Tatiana’s trying to have a wrestling lesson, and Reggie Estrada’s tryin’ to have a fight!

JR: Reggie’s gotta realize he can’t out-wrestle Tatiana… so he’s gotta force her to play his game! If he can’t do that, this one might already be over!

Tatiana steps forward again, looking for another lock-up — but this time, Reggie ducks low, hooks a leg, and takes her down in a quick double-leg.

JR: There we go! Reggie finally escaping the technical wrestling, forcing TJ to the mat!

He goes for a grounded headlock… but Tatiana immediately rolls him through, snaring his arm in a lightning-fast cross armbar attempt!

Reggie’s eyes go wide — pure panic — and he scrambles for the ropes, foot dragging over the bottom one.

ROPE BREAK! Reggie Estrada has two remaining!

Reggie sits up, glaring. He slaps the mat, furious, but Tatiana just adjusts her elbowpads and smirks.

JC: Wow! The first moment it felt like Reggie was in the driver’s seat and Tatiana uses it to make Reggie burn his first rope break!

JR: That’s how dangerous Jolee is, Jacuinde! You think you’re taking control, but you’re just playing right into her hands…

Reggie rises to his knees, breathing heavy, muttering to himself Tatiana, feeling in control and seeking to keep it… takes a slow, deliberate step in for another lock up!

Reggie meets her halfway for the lock-up — then ducks under, slides behind, and slaps the back of her head. Not hard. Just disrespectful.

The audience lets out a collective oooh!

JC: Wow! Absolute Dis-Re-SPECT from Reggie Estrada!

JR: I admire him trying to shock his opponent… but that strike carries a dangerous risk of making Tatiana Jolee mad AND focused!

Tatiana freezes in place — her spine straightens, and her eyes widen just a fraction. For half a heartbeat, her calm demeanor falters. Her breathing changes — quicker, shallower.

She turns her head, slowly, to glare at him.

Reggie’s smirking ear-to-ear, hopping from one foot to the other, like that smack gave him a second wind.

JC: Reggie loves pissing people off… and he just pissed Jolee off more than possibly anyone else since she signed with the XWF!

Reggie bounces again, feinting another lock-up — this time shooting low. Tatiana sprawls perfectly, countering his momentum. She slides into a front facelock, cinching tight — her expression focused, jaw set. The crowd applauds her technique.

Reggie grimaces, twisting, trying to push her off. She maintains control, wrenching his neck…

But Reggie, in a flash, e grabs her wrist, uses his legs to roll, and twists into a sudden hammerlock. Tatiana’s eyes flicker… as she widens her stance… and rolls through, breaking free, returning to neutral collar-and-elbow. Reggie stays crouched, a grin tugging his mouth, as he widens his stance, securing his base.

JC: Reggie trying to make wrestling him as annoying as possible! Doing everything he can to make it a slog to bring him down with chain wrestling so TJ gets frustrated and tries something else!

They circle again, jockeying for control in the collar-and-elbow… when suddenly, Estrada sweeps Jolee’s leg this time. Tatiana lands on one hip — a clean, controlled fall, but her expression hardens. Reggie immediately goes for a grounded headlock, pressing down with his forearm. He’s too close, too frantic — and Tatiana feels that sloppiness. She breathes out slowly, snake-like, and works her way up to a knee, battling off the mat!

JC: Wrestling Tatiana Jolee is like wrestling a grappling machine! If you make one inefficent move, she’s already escaped and starting to turn the tables back on you!

TJ’s eyes are focused now, unblinking. As Reggie tries to apply torque, dragging Jolee back down to the mat… TJ posts on one foot, pivots her hips, and uses his momentum against him — back suplex from a kneeling base!

JR: Absolutely flawless sequence there by Tatiana Jolee!

The crowd claps rhythmically. Reggie rolls away, clutching his lower back.

Before TJ can follow-up, Reggie slaps the mat again, this time standing up fast — too fast — and stumbles forward before regaining balance.

He charges for another lock-up — but instead of grappling, he shoves her!

Tatiana stumbles back a step, regaining her footing.

JC: Oh man… it feels like the tension is heating up between TJ and Estrada!

JR: Straight-up! If the goal of organizing this match was to get these two on the same page… I think all it’s done is help these two realize they don’t like each other!

TJ straightens her posture, brushing imaginary dust from her gear, and steps forward again — slow, unflinching, her gaze locked on him.

Reggie fidgets, bouncing side to side, trying to stay hyped… The two circle… Reggie feints another lock-up, then slaps her arm down hard.

Tatiana’s reaction is immediate: her jaw clenches, her nostrils flare, and this time she grabs him — snatches his arm and twists it into a tight hammerlock, then transitions into a wristlock takedown!

JC: Tatiana’s had enough! Estrada’s games might’ve gotten her riled up, but she’s managing to channel that frustration into control!

Reggie grits his teeth, trying to roll to the ropes again, but Tatiana holds him center-ring. He plants a boot, pushes up, then dives forward into a sudden roll — flipping her momentum — and somehow escapes again.

JR: Another miraculous escape by Estrada! And you can feel the frustration mounting for Tatiana Jolee!

Reggie rises back to a vertical base… He wipes his mouth and taunts Tatiana, stretching his neck like he’s just getting warmed up…

Tatiana exhales slowly through her nose, recalibrating…

Jolee steps forward with controlled precision, her stance narrow and low. Reggie sees it and smirks — he thinks he’s got her pattern memorized. He springs forward, aiming for a wild single-leg takedown—but Tatiana’s already countering, pivoting on one heel and letting him tumble past her like wind through a door. She hooks an arm, rolls through, and traps him in a grounded hammerlock, perfectly centered in the ring.

Reggie’s mouth twists open in pain. His free hand flails for the ropes, but they’re far — too far.

Tatiana applies subtle pressure, her expression calm again — serene, almost meditative.

JC: it’s amazing watching Tatiana Jolee wrestle… Every second she holds him, she reclaims a piece of control.

JR: I imagine this is what it feels like watching a surgeon at work… Y’know, if you believed in surgery. Which I don’t. I think it’s a trick.

JC: Joe, I’ve come to enjoy working with you over the last couple shows, please don’t ruin it by sharing any of your beliefs with me.

Reggie plants a foot, pushes upward — his face flushed, veins popping. He uses raw strength, forcing them both to a vertical base.

JC: Reggie manages to get himself from being grounded… but Tatiana’s still got him in a hold!

Reggie tries an elbow — careful not to use a closed fist — but she anticipates it, catching his arm mid-swing and converting the hammerlock into a cross-faced chicken wing.

Reggie’s mouth opens in a grimace, eyes wide.

He flails, trying to lift her, but she stays glued to his back, her boots pivoting with every twist. When he finally finds the ropes, his hand hits them hard — second rope break burned.

ROPE BREAK! REGGIE ESTRADA HAS ONE REMAINING!

JC: Oh my! That’s the second rope break for Reggie! He’s got one left… and if we’re being realistic, Reggie’s come nowhere close to making Tatiana burn one of hers!

Tatiana releases and backs off immediately, raising her hands in perfect sportsmanlike compliance.

Reggie stays on his knees, clutching his neck and shoulder, shooting her a glare through strands of sweat-matted hair. He shoves off the ropes and charges TJ!

Jolee shoots in low, hooks a leg, and sweeps him down clean. She floats over to a front facelock, wrenching tight again. Reggie squirms — frustration written across his face.

JC: This is the first time in many years it looks like Reggie’s the one getting frustrated, Joe!

JR: Tatiana’s brilliance is showing here, Jacuinde! She’s so mechanical, so pure in wrestling technique, that it’s actually proving impossible for a chaos bringer like Reggie to break the mold!

Reggie bucks his hips and rolls, breaking free by sheer persistence, but he’s too tired to capitalize. Tatiana meets him standing again, flowing seamlessly into another sequence — arm drag, hold maintained, pressure reapplied!

Reggie’s chest heaves, eyes darting around, searching for something — anything — to shake her off-balance. His gaze flicks toward the turnbuckles.

The crowd senses it too — a buzz builds.

He shoves her off, sprints to the corner, and scales the middle rope in one motion. The crowd comes alive.

Tatiana’s eyes flash wide — that brief flash of fear of heights, of aerial chaos — just long enough for Reggie to launch a diving crossbody!

He connects!

Reggie lands half on her, hooks a leg!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-NO! Tatiana bridges out!

JC: What an upset that would have been for Reggie Estrada!

Reggie tries to scramble back to his feet… but before he can, from the mat, Tatiana hooks his arm — butterfly hold! She cinches it tight, wrenching both shoulders.

Reggie yells out — agony and frustration blending into one raw sound. He tries to twist out, but she pulls him down, transitions to a grounded triangle attempt.

The crowd gasps!

[white]JC: This is disastrous for Estrada! Jolee has him grounded on the mat and is transitioning him from hold-to-hold, each more difficult toe scape than the last!

Reggie’s eyes dart everywhere. He’s trapped again — too far from the ropes. His body tenses… and then relaxes.

…IN A SUDDENT SURGE OF STRENGTH! Estrada lifts her up while still trapped, gritting through the pain, and slams her back-first into the turnbuckles!

The crowd roars.

JC: Wow! I didn’t know Reggie had that in him!

JR: That’s Reggie, Jacuinde! Just when you think he’s done for, he pulls out one more trick up his sleeve!

Tatiana’s back slams against the turnbuckle… She stumbles forward… Reggie measures and swings…

DISCUS LARIAT!

…Tatiana ducks.

Hooks the arm.

Trips the leg.

CALGARY CRIPPLER (Captain’s Hook)!

JC: Calgary Crippler! She’s got it dead center, Joe!

JR: This one might just be over!

The crowd erupts — she’s got it locked dead center!

Reggie’s eyes bulge, mouth open in pain — his free hand clawing at the mat, the ropes, anything…

Reggie tries to twist — Tatiana adjusts her grip, tighter. His fingertips stretch toward the ropes — an inch short…

The ref’s watching closely. The audience is on their feet, anticipating a submission!

…Reggie’s arm shakes!

…When suddenly, Reggie rolls backward, flipping her shoulders down!

JC: Another shocking Estrada counter!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-Tatiana releases to avoid the pin, breaking her own hold. She rolls through to her feet, eyes blazing — and Reggie, flat on his back, just grins through the pain.

…Both competitors slowly rise off the mat,

Tatiana shoots low, sharp and sudden, her shoulder digging into Reggie’s thigh. The crowd pops as she chains one, two, three transitions—ankle pick into a half nelson, rolling him down into a front facelock!

But Reggie wriggles like a live wire, thrashing and flailing—his wild movements jolt her balance just enough for him to roll her into the ropes!

ROPE BREAK! TATIANA JOLEE HAS TWO ROPE BREAKS REMAINING!

JC: Tatiana finally burns a rope break in this match!

JR: Controversial! Her body barely brushed against the ropes! Bad call by the official perhaps!

Tatiana pushes up to her knees, just as Reggie lunges in with a sudden lock-up, then slaps her cheek on the break!

JC: Reggie refusing to pay Tatiana Jolee even a modicum of respect! Despicable!

JR: But you can see the gears turning in Reggie’s mind, Jacuinde! Something’s coming together in his head, even if we can’t see it yet!

Tatiana freezes, blinking once—her body trembling with the effort not to retaliate. The ref warns Reggie, but he’s already backing away, palms up, feigning innocence.

Then TJ pounces—snatching him into a tight hammerlock, twisting his arm like a mechanic working a stubborn bolt. She sinks her hips and rolls through into the Butterfly Submission, her muscles taut, jaw clenched. Her face is determination—until Reggie starts… smiling.

But Reggie shifts his weight suddenly—forcing her grip to tighten, her hands locking at his upper shoulder. Her knuckles press hard against his chin. She’s forced to ball her fist to keep control of the torque—just for a second—

—and that’s when Reggie throws his head back.

INTO TJ’S FIST!

JC: Wait… Reggie’s diving into TJ’s right hand! What the hell’s he doing?!?

CRACK.

Her knuckles smash flush into his jaw. The sound echoes like a gunshot.

The crowd gasps in unison. Tatiana’s eyes go wide. She immediately releases the hold, both hands raised in horror. “No—no, that wasn’t—I didn’t—”

The referee has no choice. He’s already calling for the bell.

DING DING DING!

WINNER BY DISQUALIFICATION: REGGIE ESTRADA!

JC: …Oh my God! Estrada played Jolee! Reggie Estrada baited her into that closed fist then got her to punch him with it!

JR: Absolutely genius, Jacuinde! Any halfwit can break the rules, but a true artist can make his opponent break the rules! Reggie found the way to pull off yet another upset! He beat Tatiana Jolee at a Pure Wrestling Rules match! Unfathomable!

Reggie sprawls on the mat, rubbing his jaw, eyes gleaming with perverse satisfaction. The ref lifts his arm, and he lets it flop halfway up before raising it himself with a grin.

Tatiana storms over, pointing furiously, explaining, pleading—but the ref keeps his ground

Reggie, still on the mat, suddenly lifts a hand and makes the Choke gesture. Slow. Deliberate. Mocking.

Tatiana lunges—but the referee steps between them, arms out. The crowd’s roaring now, half in fury, half in shock.

JC: This does not bode well for Roxy Cotton’s WarGames team. You can see the anger on Tatiana’s face—she’s not gonna forget this anytime soon.

JR: Don’t be so sure, Jacuinde! This might have been exactly what both these competitors needed! Tatiana needed a wakeup call to make her game as tight as possible going into WarGames… and Reggie needed a chance to test his absolutely craziest strategies… going into WarGames? Both these two might be as dangerous as they’ve ever been in their careers!

JC: Folks, the show rolls on and we have… plainly, NO idea what’s about to happen!

JR: If Elon Musk is involved, you gotta assume it’s gonna be some big brain level stuff at play!

JC: No doubt, Joe! The last time we saw Elon Musk, he was… Furious! At Spooky Night Savage, he came out with the Trillionaires and called Jennie Nickles… a number of unkind names for destroying his most valued wrestling creation, The Grok!

JR: And then she fucked the Grok!

JC: …This is a family program, Rogan.

…

JC: But, correct. That seemed to disturb Elon, perhaps even more than her destroying his creation was… simulating… copulatory activities… with it…

JR: We thought maybe that was the last we’d seen of the Grok. Little did we know, when the card for Warfare dropped, we’d see the name ‘Grok 2.0’! What could that possibly mean?

JC: If there’s one guy who can handle a challenge like Grok 2.0, though? It’s gotta be The Tactilizing One! Larry Tact!

"In the Face of Evil" by Magic Sword reverberates over the PA. Row after row, aisle to aisle, fans rise from their seats throughout the arena and cheer, knowing one of their workhorses is about to appear!

As the second, third, and fourth chords of the theme reverberate, three spotlights shine down, one over another: A green circle, a gold triangle over it, and a crimson line intersecting the other two. On the Tron, his monikers cycle through one after another:

TACTILIZING ONE

GAME CHANGER

LIMIT BREAKER

From there, the beat triggers the house lights to illuminate the figure of Larry Tact standing on stage. He's looking down as he hones in for the battle ahead.

JC: Larry Tact! TPW Hall of Famer! Multiple time World Champion!

JR: Truly, a master of every aspect of competing in the ring, Jacuinde!

JC: No doubt, Joe! There’s a reason Kieran King drafted him onto his team for WarGames. Larry is a dark horse candidate for a deep run to the Finals… And just because he’s a teammate with the Universal champion… We learned earlier tonight that the person that obtains the winning pinfall in the final… WILL become the new Universal champion! Even if they don’t pin Kieran King to do it!

JR: It’s a major shift to the formula, Jacuinde, and a brilliant move by the Trillionaires! All three of Kieran’s teammates are his allies… Until there’s only one person left to eliminate… Then, it’s a race to whoever can finish the match off!

JC: To borrow a phrase from the man walking to the ring right now? Best Game Wins. And almost no one plays a better game than the multi-time world champion, Larry Tact. Could we see him exit WarGames with the Universal title around his waist?

After a few seconds, Tact whips his head up and trudges to one side of the stage, firing up the fans by pointing towards different sections. He goes to the other side of the stage and beats his chest with a hand before opening his arms to the reaction of the crowd. "THIS IS YOUR SPOTLIGHT!" Larry bellows as the audience hoots and hollers back. He returns to center stage and points to either side of the crowd. The lights cut out except for green, gold, and crimson spotlights highlighting the audience in attendance. Larry makes his way down to the ring, pounding fists with some fans at ringside before hanging onto the middle rope and pulling himself up onto the apron.

Facing the stands, he opens his arms up and puffs his chest out to receive the feverish energy of his supporters. Wiping his boots on the apron, Tact proceeds into the ring. He climbs a turnbuckle and again holds his arms out. “BEST GAME WINS!!!” he exclaims to another pop before descending and making his final preparations for the match.

…

DO YOU GRASP WHAT THE GROK IS IMPLYING?

The lights in the arena dim as the announcer's voice booms over the sound system, introducing the next wrestler. Suddenly, Grok’s Theme fills the arena, and the crowd erupts into cheers as a bright spotlight illuminates the top of the ramp.

JC: Here we go! Grok 2.0 is online!

…

”CUT THE MUSIC! CUT THE MUSIC!”

Suddenly, Elon Musk bursts from behind the curtain, holding a microphone.

JC: Oh jeez. Elon is usually Grok’s valet at ringside… What the hell’s he doing here without The Grok?

JR: All I know is it’s about to change the whole Game!

Elon holds the microphone under his chin, staring daggers at the ring.

”Mister Tact. I have nothing against you personally.”

JC: …Not a great way to start an address.

JR: I mean, it’s fine. Unless it’s going to be followed by a ‘but’...

”BUT!”

JR: Oh no!

”You’ve been drafted by King Kieran. Who foolishly conducted his business in a way that INCONVENIENCES ME. Making contractual obligations that my associates and I have inherited. Creating… INEFFICIENCIES in my business.”

JR: Ooooh, those are all unforgivable transgressions for a control freak like Elon Musk!

JC: And it sounds like Larry Tact is about to be punished for Kieran’s strategic contracting!

”So, unfortunately, Mister Tact… tonight? Because you pose yourself as an ally to my enemy? That makes us enemies. And I will be using this opportunity… To ELIMINATE you.”

Elon chuckles villainously… Inside the ring, Tact crosses his arms impatiently, gesturing for Elon to get his Bond villain monologue over with and send in the Grok already…

”In fact, I was so focused on plotting your DESTRUCTION… I missed a typo on the fight card tonight…”

JC: …Typo on the fight card?

”See… You’re not fighting Grok 2.0…”

Elon shakes his head as his evil smile widens…

”You’re fighting… 20 GROKS!”

JC: What?!? Twenty Groks!?!

JR: It only took one to beat a monster like ENIGMA! Larry’s gonna face TWENTY?!?

All of a sudden, TWENTY GROKS burst through the curtain…

…Well, smaller Groks…

JC: The original Grok stood at 6’5”... these ones all seem to be around… 5 foot?

JR: Four-foot-nine-and-three-quarters-inches. I can tell from a hundred paces how tall another man is.

JC: …Fascinating ability, Joe. It seems Elon used the broken pieces from the original Grok and re-forged them into… Twenty mini-Groks!

Each of the Groks poses in front of Elon… All dropping their shades simultaneously as they say in unison…

DO YOU CONCEIVE OF WHAT THE GROKS ARE COMPUTIN’

The music resumes as the Groks roll down the ramp to the ring!

THE GROK SAYS

THE GROK SAYS

THE GROK SAYS

JC: This is absolutely insane, Joe! Larry Tact is going to fight the Groks… ONE versus TWENTY!

As The Groks reaches the ring, they surround and all climb up to the apron at once… The official stands beside Larry, desperately trying to maintain order, demanding only one enter the ring to start this match…

LARRY TACT
- vs -
20 GROKS
Elimination Match

JR: …I feel for a match like this, we can do a better pre-match graphic. Jamie, could you throw something together real quick?

New-Project-6

JR: Hell yeah, Jamie. Hell yeah.

Larry spins, daring one of them to come at him first…

One Grok in front of Larry raises his arms, like he’s prepared to do the honors… Tact beckons him forward with two hands daring him to step up… He slowly dips his head between the ropes…

…But as he does, another Grok slips through the ropes behind Tact…

JC: Looks like the Groks are starting early, playing the damn numbers game!

JR: Hey, if you got the numbers on your side, you’d be a fool not to play the numbers game!

The Grok in front of Larry keeps slowly rolling in… Stretching himself, letting one leg creep over the middle ropes… One foot dangle over the mat…

Larry rolls his eyes, barking at him to hurry u-

WHAM! The Grok behind Larry hits Tact with a chop block, dropping him to the mat!

JC: A dirty trick by the Groks!

JR: Larry’s lengthy career has put a lot of miles on that knee! If the Groks are looking for a weak point, that’s a viable one to take Larry down with!

Tact drops, squeezing that knee, as suddenly, the nineteen Groks on the apron all start jaw-jacking and heckling Larry from the outside for falling for that obvious ploy… Meanwhile, the Grok that pulled the attack, grabs Larry by the scruff of the neck and up to his feet!

JC: I suppose that makes the Grok that attacked Larry the legal man to start off for Team Grok!

JR: Legal machine, you mean!

JC: Fair point, Joe!

Grok lifts Tact’s head and… WHAM! Right handed smack to the face! Backing Larry up into the corner!

A second!

A third!

Larry’s back rests against the corner as Grok stares at his own hand! He reels back delivering…

ANOTHER SMACK!

…

But Larry ducks under!

Grok surges forward into the corner! And all at once, the nineteen trash-talkin’ Groks go silent!

The Grok in the ring spins around out of the corner…

STRAIGHT INTO A LARRY TACT HUMBLING! (Uranage Suplex)!

The legal Grok’s sunglasses crack as Larry goes for the cover!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

JC: Larry got the pin!

NINETEEN GROKS REMAIN

JR: But it’s an elimination match, Jacuinde! That’s only step one… Out of Twenty!

JC: How the Hell is Larry supposed to survive this, let alone win?!?

JR: That’s just it, Jacuinde! I don’t think Elon set-up this match for Larry to do either!

Before Larry can even lift himself from the pinned Grok, another Grok storms through the ropes, stompin’ the back of Tact’s skull! Tact cradles his neck as the new legal Grok keeps stompin’ the back of Tact’s head!

Tact lifts his arm to guard his skull, trying to block the Grok’s strikes… But the Grok merely changes targets to attack Tact’s now-exposed ribs!

JC: The Grok’s auto-targeting systems means he’s always looking for an opening! Always seeking the most vulnerable part to his opponent!

Tact, feeling brutalized on the mat, forces his way up to his knees… But the Grok merely shifts into a front-face lock, immediately shooting Tact into an Irish whip into the ropes…

Tact tries to build up speed into a sprint for a counter…

WHAM! But a couple Groks on the apron CLUB Tact over the back of the head as he hits the ropes!

JC: The damn numbers game again!

Tact stumbles forward… into a spinebuster slam from the legal Grok in the center of the ring!

JC: Oh no! Larry Tact is in trouble!

The Legal Grok rises up from the spinebuster… taking off his sunglasses… and an elbow pad!

JR: I think we’re about to see the Most Electrifying Move in Consumer Electronics-based Sports Entertainment! The Elon Elbow!

Grok kicks Larry’s arm to above his chest! Crosses his arms!

He runs to one side of the ropes! Bounces off!

He hits the other side of the ring…

ELON ELBOW!

…

No! As Grok hits the ropes, Larry kips up off the mat!

Scoops Grok onto his shoulders into Torture Rack position…

T-T-TACTILIZER (Spinning sitout powerbomb)!

Larry holds the cover!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

EIGHTEEN GROKS REMAIN!

JR: I can’t believe it! Larry countered the Elon Elbow!

JC: … I mean, I think it’s pretty believable. The Grok had an advantage and then set-up a move that took like… twenty-five seconds of running to execute on.

JR: Regardless, Larry’s eliminated two Groks! But, there’s still eighteen to go!

Another Grok charges in, booting the back of Larry’s head… Larry doesn’t bother guarding, forcing himself upright, tanking through the diminutive mini-Grok’s strikes…

Grok delivers a boot to the gut! Larry bends over! Grok goes for a DDT!

…BUT Larry counters into a northern lights suplex!

He bridges the pin!

ONE!

TW-WHAM! Another Grok steps through the ropes and boots Larry in the stomach!

JC: The Groks deciding they’re done letting Larry get free eliminations! He’s gonna have to work for each one from here!

The interrupting Grok, while being chided by the official to get back on the apron, orders the other Grok to help him get Larry up on his feet…

They both manage to back Larry in the ropes… A tandem Irish whip!

Larry sprints toward the ropes… Where two more Groks go to club Larry on the back of the head!

…But this time, Larry catches both with clotheslines! The Groks get dumped off the apron! The other Groks scatter, trying to help their bowled-over Grok brethren up!

JC: Larry’s building up steam here!

Both the Groks inside the ring bend over for a tandem back body drop…

But Larry catches one… FACEBUSTER! Grok drops to his back, cradling his face, rolling to the outside…

The other Grok rises up… Larry delivers a boot to the stomach! Powerbomb position…

STAR POWER!

JC: Larry hits another finisher!

JR: And the other Groks are all out of sorts from Larry attacking the Groks on the apron!

Larry makes the cover!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

SEVENTEEN GROKS REMAIN

…Larry stands up, for once, not immediately getting attacked after a pin… daring the next Grok to enter the ring with him…

JC: I don’t think this is how Elon imagined this match going! Thus far, Tact has been absolutely unbeatable!

JR: And Tactilizing!

The remaining Groks huddle up outside the ring, one occasionally peeking out to check that Larry’s still in the ring…

They all seem to form an agreement on how to proceed…

…

AND ALL SEVENTEEN CHARGE THE RING!

JR: Oh my! It looks like the Groks are done taking turns! They’re all going at Tact at the same time!

JC: That’s definitely against the rules!

Tact catches one… two… three! With right hands! But the fourth and the fifth managed to catch Larry first with open-handed smacks, driving him to the ropes! A sixth one catches him with a right hand that drives him over the top ropes and out of the ring!

JC: The official’s completely lost control of this one!

Larry somehow manages to land on his feet… And then ducks under the apron curtain and slips under the ring!

JC: Tact making a tactful escape perhaps!

JR: He’s just under the ring, Jacuinde! He’s trapped like a rat with 17 Groks on his tail!

Indeed, the Groks roll under and step through the ropes, each surrounding the spot that Larry just slipped under the ring at…

One Grok ushers the others around the spot…

He holds up three fingers…

Two…

One…

He lifts the curtain!

And all the Groks stomp!

…

But Larry’s not there!

JC: These mini-Groks have the same intelligence as guards from Metal Gear Solid One…

JR: What was that noise?!? …Must have been the wind.

Suddenly, the curtain lifts from behind the Grok! And Tact emerges…

[Image: why-triple-h-uses-a-sledgehammer-in-wwe-...ankind.jpg]

[Image: why-triple-h-uses-a-sledgehammer-in-wwe-...ankind.jpg]

WITH A SLEDGEHAMMER!

JC: Tact’s got a hammer!

The first Grok steps up!

WHAM! A sledgehammer shot blasts him over the railing and into the front row!

Another Grok steps up!

WHACK! Tact blast the mini-Grok straight down! The 4’9” Grok is now 4’4” as the lights go off in his LED display!

Another Grok charges forward, ducking a Tact hammer shot… His arm in position for a…

GROK BOTTOM!

But Tact elbows him off!

Grok spins in place!

And Tact CRANKS him under the chin with a sledgehammer! His neck ascends like a goddamned Rockem Sockem Robot!

JC: Larry Tact is cleaning house!

The other Groks start retreating up the ramp as the official rings the bell!

NO CONTEST

JC: The official is throwing this one out! But it looks like Larry is still chasing the Groks to the back, like a game of whack-a-mole!

JR: If Elon’s plan was to take out Tact before WarGames… I think all he did was give him a warm-up!

JC: Well Joe we got an incoming barn burner between two War Games participants, the impressive newcomer Kristoffer Arroyo and the dollface with a mean streak Sarah Wolf!

JR: No doubt bro, no doubt. For my money I gotta go with Sarah on this one. She’s trying to build back after her tough loss of the TV Championship to a man she knows well in Dickie Watson.

JC: Joe I’m actually kind of impressed with you, that was….

JR: Plus Sarah’s fucking HOT! She seems like she could stomp on my balls and make me like it.

JC: Aaaaaand there it is.

JR: ….what?

The arena is bathed in a deep red light that brings out the shadows in every nook and cranny as "Deep Set" by Greg Puciato starts to play. Kristoffer Arroyo steps through the entrance way, looking cool and confident behind his bright pink shades. Then, sliding up behind him comes Samael Dyson. He saunters down to the ring, taking his time and seeming to savor the moment before suddenly exploding into a slide into the ring as Samael rolls under the bottom rope and hops up to his feet, waggling his tongue at a disgusted Sarah Wolf. Kris then steps through the ropes onto the ring apron, where he wraps his legs around the middle rope and hangs himself upside down with his arms outstretched like an inverted cross. He smiles for the camera, revealing long sharpened incisors, before sitting up and rolling up and over the top rope and to the canvas. Meanwhile, Samael keeps teasing the fact that he might approach Sarah Wolf but never does. Sarah, with an evil grin, beckons Samael to make good on his threat, but instead he waves a hand at her dismissively and gets to the outside as Kris takes up a position in the center of the ring.

JC: Can’t say that I’m loving Samael’s presence here at ringside.

JR: Who does? The dude’s a creep.

JC: Sarah’s going to need to keep her head on a swivel in this match.

Kristoffer ‘Vamp’ Arroyo
- vs -
Sarah Wolf
Singles

The ref signals for the bell and the match gets underway. Sarah draws in on Kris…and Kris immediately goes to spit blood in her eyes! But Sarah just barely ducks out of the way!

JC: Oh what the hell?! Already?!

The ref chastises a demure looking Kristoffer for the attempt but Sarah, irate, pushes the ref aside and attacks Kristoffer, laying into him with brutal closed fist blows before irish whipping Kristoffer into the corner. Kristoffer puts the breaks on before striking the turnbuckle but Sarah immediately follows up with a chop block that downs the newcomer! Sarah then takes hold of Kris’ leg, presumably to lock in some sort of submission, when Kris grabs the bottom rope, forcing a break. Kris gets vertical and and he and Sarah lock up. Kris hits a standing switch, trying to suplex Sarah up and over, but Sarah blocks, hits a reverse elbow, nails her own standing switch and dumps Kris with a bridged German suplex into a pin!

1….

2……..NO! KIckout from Arroyo!

JR: Man, my girl Sarah going to work early in this match. I love the intensity!

JC: Indeed she has been impressive so far but….wait, look!

Samael Dyson is up on the ring apron and threatening to get in the ring. The ref cuts him off and forces him down, but the distraction is enough to allow Kris to nab Sarah in the eye with his thumb as he gets vertical. Arroyo chains the dirty move into a boot to the gut, followed by an evenflow DDT. From there, he flows into a crossface hold….which Sarah counters by biting his wrist! Kris relents, getting off of Sarah. Sarah gets up and gets in Kris’ face, knocking him back with a knee lift to the gut, followed by a european uppercut. Sarah then boots Kris in the midsection again and picks him up for a spike piledriver, but she miscalculates the momentum allowing Kris to counter into a hurricanrana into a pin!

1….

2…..NOPE! Sarah Wolf kicks out!

JC: Some damn fine wrestling in this contest so far mixed with some dirty pool!

JR: Gotta love a little dirty pool. Unless it gives you a urinary tract infection. Happened once when I went to Yungblud’s house. Man’s gotta clean his pool better.

JC: That’s far more information than we needed.

Meanwhile, back in the ring, both performers have locked up in a grapple. Kris uses his superior strength to push Sarah into the corner, where he starts to hammer on her with vicious elbow strikes. Sarah finally escapes by raking his eyes, which draws an admonishment from the ref which she ignores. Just then, Sam Dyson reaches into the ring and grabs Sarah’s ankle, distracting her! Sarah wheels on Sam, and misses the big boot to the face Kris delivers while her attention is away! He covers her again!

1…..

2……NOOOO! Sarah pops the shoulder up!

JC: Samael Dyson is inserting himself into this match any which way he can!

Sarah looks decidedly unhappy as Kris grabs a handful of her hair and pulls her up, popping her up onto his shoulder for a running powerslam. Kris then boots the boots to her while she’s down before pulling her up yet again to go for the ROMEO’S LAMENT! But Sarah reaches up and claws his face, getting out of the move and countering into a stiff kick to Kris’ head, followed by a lariat that takes him down. Sarah then kicks him over onto his stomach and drops down to apply a calf slicer submission hold! The ref gets down on the canvas, asking Kris if he wants to quit. Kris shakes his head “no” but grimaces in pain. But then, Samael Dyson rolls into the ring and drops a fist on Sarah, breaking up the hold!

JC: And again!

JR: Man, this ref needs to get control and eject Sam Dyson.

JC: I agree, this is too much!

The ref berates Sam Dyson for interfering again, and does indeed seem to be threatening to eject him when Sarah pushes past the ref and kicks Sam Dyson right in the jewels! Sam goes down, clutching his manhood and sputtering curses as he rolls out of the ring.

JR: Attagirl, Sarah!

But, with Sarah’s attention again pulled away, Kris leaps up and drops Sarah with a leaping reverse face buster! He covers her!

1….

2…….NOOOOOOO! Another kickout from the former TV champion!

Kris looks frustrated now! He drags Sarah to her feet, spikes her with a kick, picks her up and samoan drops her to the canvas where he locks in a fujiwara armbar! But Sarah is too close to the ropes and grabs the bottom one, forcing a break! Kris breaks the hold, grabs Sarah viciously by the hair and pulls her to center ring where he locks in the arm bar again! The ref asks Sarah if she wants to tap but she screams “no!” at him and fights through the pain. She strikes out wildly with any blows she can muster until finally Kris relents on the hold. They both get vertical again and Kris goes for a forearm shot, Sarah ducks under and lands a nasty roundhouse to Kris’ back, followed by a big boot to his chest when he wheels around. But Kris springs up quickly where Sarah is waiting with another uppercut. She then signals for the DEVILLOCK! But Kris is able to catch her wrist before she can apply the claw! He hits a deep arm drag as a counter, but Sarah spins up fast and they collide mid ring with dueling clotheslines that drop both of them!

JC: These two are so evenly matched here! It’s anybody’s guess who’s going to win!

JR: But we gotta give Sarah mad props for weathering all this interference from Sam Dyson!

After a moment’s respite, both competitors get to their feet, clearly feeling the impact of this match. Kris swings wildly at Sarah, tagging her in the face with a punch, followed by a snap mare takedown, and into a headlock. But Sarah’s foot is under the ropes and the ref forces a break. Kris lets Sarah get to her feet, measuring her before launching into a superkick….but Sarah counters Kris by grabbing his ankle and dropping him down into an ankle lock! Sarah does some damage with the ankle lock before Kris is able to power up and roll out, but Sarah stays on him with a running knee lift to his head as he tries to get up! Sarah covers again!

1…..

2……..KRIS KICKS OUT!

Sarah slaps the mat in frustration, but recovers and drags Kris to his feet. She hits Kris with a spinning back kick, stunning him for just enough time to reel back and spit WOLF’S BLOOD IN HIS EYES……

……EXCEPT KRIS HAD IT SCOUTED! HE PULLS THE REF IN THE WAY AND THE REF GETS A FULL DOSE!

JR (coughing): OHHHH MY GOD I CAN SMELL IT FROM HERE!

JC: The ref is out of commission!

The ref drops to his knees, pawing at his eyes. Sarah curses viciously and returns her attention to Kris, going for a superkick of her own! But Kris ducks and drops her with a twisting leg drag on Sarah’s knee! Sarah goes down, skittering to the ring apron where Sam Dyson is awaiting for her! Sam rushes up to her and….FIREBALL! FIREBALL! Sam Dyson throws fire from out of nowhere into Sarah’s face!

JR: How the hell did he do that?!!

Sarah catches a face full of fire! She cries out in pain, holding her face and staggering to her feet….and right into Kristoffer! Kristoffer wastes no time and drills her skull into the canvas with the ROMEO’S LAMENT! Kris then grabs the referee and barks an order at him to “count goddammit!” The ref, who still can’t even see, obeys the order as Kris gets on top of Sarah for the cover!

1…..

2…….

3!! Sarah Wolf stays down!

WINNER: KRISTOFFER ARROYO

JC: Oh this can’t be described as anything but an incredibly tainted victory! Samael Dyson interfered multiple times during the course of this match!

JR: But unfortunately there’s no asterisks in the XWF record books and this is just going to show Vamp as the winner.

Samael Dyson gets back in the ring and derisively boots Sarah out to the floor before turning to celebrate with his guy!

JC: I can only wonder how this might carry over to War Games if these two so happen to meet.

JR: Oh you can bet Sarah’s gonna be maaaaad pissed!

JC: At any rate, hang in there folks we got more action coming your way in just a moment!

JC: ISAIAH KING! A two-time Universal Champion trying to become a two-time winning War Games Captain. But before he can even get to this year’s War Games, he’s going to have to make it past his old teammate. Talk about drama! Talk about high stakes!

JR: Isaiah King and Charlie Nickles have a long, long history! But tonight, none of that matters anymore. Isaiah drafting Charlie? Old news. Charlie interfering with Bacchus to help King pin SEB? Forgotten about! All that matters tonight…is what happens inside that ring!

Charlie Nickles appears at the top of the stage, a devilish grin on his face and a sadistic look in his eye. Dressed in his old rags, The Nickleman walks down the ramp in ‘Classic’ Charlie fashion, mumbling to himself as he stares daggers right into Isaiah’s soul. Charlie quickly slides into the ring under the bottom ropes before heading to his corner and waiting patiently for the bloodletting to commence.

JR: And King’s opponent for tonight, none other than The Nickleman himself! A former Universal Champion in his own right, Charlie Nickles is known for his harsh demeanor and blatant disregard for the safety and wellbeing of others.

JC: Charlie Nickles is a dirty bastard, and he wouldn’t have it any other way!

JR: Tonight’s match is sure to be a good one, so take your seats and buckle up folks, because it’s SHOWTIME!

Isaiah King
- vs -
Charlie Nickles
Singles

The bell rings and the crowd comes alive in Tulsa. There is no feeling out process. There is no collar and elbow to start. Charlie Nickles and Isaiah King walk straight toward each other like two men who have been waiting for this moment ever since the last War Games.

JC: One year ago Isaiah King drafted Charlie Nickles to his War Games team and they walked out the winners. Tonight, neither man is wearing those same colors.

JR: That is a very polite way of saying this is a custody battle over last year’s team victory!

They fire off at the same time. Isaiah snaps off a straight right. Charlie answers with a clubbing shot across the jaw. Both men stumble, then they collide again and the ring boards pop. Charlie muscles Isaiah back into the corner and starts ramming shoulders into his midsection. Isaiah covers up, waits, and when Charlie leans in for the fourth one Isaiah hooks him in the head with a tight front facelock, pivots him out of the corner and blasts him with a knee to the body.

JC: Both of these guys know how the other moves. They were on the same team in the most demanding match of the year. There is no mystery here.

JR: Yeah this is not who has the better lockup. This is who was the real engine on that War Games squad. You can already hear them arguing with every punch!

Isaiah tries to keep it tight and vertical. He peppers Nickles with short European uppercuts and a forearm across the chest. Charlie gets mad. He swings wide and heavy and catches Isaiah on the side of the head. Isaiah staggers. Charlie stays on him with a big back elbow, then a short headbutt to the bridge of the nose. The referee steps in and warns Charlie to keep it clean. Charlie glares at him, then hauls Isaiah up by the tights and hurls him into the opposite corner!

Charlie charges!

Isaiah lifts a boot!

Charlie catches the boot and slams Isaiah down with a capture slam! Then, Charlie grabs Isaiah by the wrist and drags him toward the ropes. He starts to lariat him over the top but Isaiah twists inside, plants, and kicks Nickles’ knees out from under him. Charlie drops to one knee. Isaiah grabs him in a front headlock again and this time he snaps him over with a suplex that drops Charlie right in the center of the ring.

JC: Isaiah King is wrestling like a man who calls the shots. Calm. Measured. Everything in straight lines!

JR: Yeah and Charlie is the exact opposite! He is pure unhinged momentum. Just a bowling ball that somebody rolled down a hill!

Isaiah stays on him. He stomps the ankle. He drops a knee across the shoulder. Then he floats to side control, grabs the arm and pulls it back in a modified hammerlock. The ref is right there asking Charlie if he wants to quit, but Charlie is just snarling through his teeth.

Isaiah wrenches the arm. Charlie roars and powers up to a knee. He elbows Isaiah in the ribs once, twice, three times. Isaiah finally lets go. Charlie hits the ropes and comes back with a shoulder tackle that flattens Isaiah to the mat.

Charlie does not go for the pin. He simply mounts his former captain. He starts hammering down right hands. The ref counts. One. Two. Three. Four. Charlie does not stop. The ref grabs his arm to pull him off!

JC: The referee is doing everything he can to maintain order in that ring, but Charlie Nickles is making his job tougher than a two-dollar steak!

Charlie jerks his arm free with more force than he needs and the referee stumbles backward. Isaiah rolls away to the ropes. Charlie stalks him and boots him in the ribs. The referee moves in again, more serious this time, and gets right between them.

JC: The official is just trying to keep this match on the rails!

JR: But this match is like two freight trains colliding into each other! It was never going to stay on the rails!

Charlie tries to shove past the ref. Isaiah takes advantage and chops Charlie across the chest! Charlie swings around and the ref is right there. Charlie’s forearm clips the referee right in the side of the head! The ref spins, hits the ropes, and then crumples to the canvas!

JR: That guy is out cold!

JC: Oh, this isn’t good Joe! Now that the referee is down, there’s no one left in there to keep law and order!

Charlie looks down at the ref, breathing hard. He did not mean to take him out but he is not really sorry either. Isaiah looks at the ref too and then at Charlie. For a second it is quiet and you can see them both arrive at the same thought:

No referee.

No control.

No rules.

Isaiah strikes first. Spinning backfist to the jaw. Charlie reels. Isaiah scoops him and rams him into the corner, shoulder to the gut. Charlie fires back with a forearm across the back. Isaiah grabs Charlie by the head and throws him through the ropes to the outside.

JC: They’re spilled out onto the floor now!

JR: And there’s still no sign of a referee!

Isaiah stalks Charlie around the ring and drives him face first into the barricade!

JC: We have no official. We have two main eventers with history. We have War Games on the horizon. Nothing good can happen here!

Charlie fights back with a gut punch. Then another. He grabs Isaiah by the neck and runs him across the ringside area and bounces his head off the ring steps. Isaiah drops to a knee, clutching his face in pain. Charlie looks around, and notices nobody is stopping him. He grabs the top half of the steel steps and shoves them aside. Not to use as a weapon, but just to clear space.

He grabs Isaiah in a front facelock and tries to suplex him on the bottom steps. Isaiah blocks and counters with a snap suplex of his own! Charlie lands hard on the bottom steps! Isaiah sits up, sucking wind, eyes flicking to the ramp as if to see if anyone is coming- but there’s nobody yet.

Isaiah pulls Charlie up and hooks him for a regalplex, but Charlie breaks free and blasts him with a lariat that turns him inside out! Both men collapse on the outskirts of the ring. The crowd is chanting both names, clearly a house divided. The camera catches the referee starting to twitch, but he is still not getting up yet.

JC: This is bad, bad news Joe! Those men can do serious damage to each other outside the ring!

JR: This is why we have cages for every UFC match! It keeps the action contained! But here in the XWF….it’s complete madness![/white]

That is when the crowd turns. A new reaction rises like a wave from the hardcam side….

Jennie Nickles is running down the ramp!

She is not smiling, nor playing to the crowd. She is sprinting frantically like someone just called her and said both her house and her car are on fire!

JC: That is Jennie Nickles. She has only just arrived in the XWF. Charlie freed her from prison, and then Isaiah drafted her to his War Games team! And now her brother is trying to punch his way through her captain! She already cost Charlie a match at Relentless- so one has to ask, is she coming out to do the same thing tonight?!

JR: Oh, this is going to hurt someone’s heart![/white]

Charlie and Isaiah are rising outside the ring, just about to get back into a lock-up when Jennie Nickles suddenly appears between them, shoving them apart! She plants herself between them and puts both hands on both chests while screaming for them to stop!

JR: Wait a second…it looks like she’s trying to break it up! I think she’s trying to stop this match before it gets out of hand!

But they don’t listen: instead, they try to fight past her, with Isaiah sending a well-timed uppercut to Charlie’s jaw, and Charlie responding with an overhand right that cracks Isaiah across the brow!

But Jennie keeps screaming, and she keeps pushing them both away.

“Stop it! Stop it! I need you both.”

That line finally hits. Isaiah actually stops first. He has always had that discipline and control of himself, even in the heat of the moment. He takes a step back, breathing hard, eyes locked on Jennie.

But Charlie hesitates.

His fists are still balled. His jaw is still clenched. He is bleeding from the mouth, yelling at Jennie to move out of the way…but she doesn’t.

“Charlie. I need my War Games captain.”

Jennie says, jerking a thumb behind her toward Isaiah. Then she puts her hand on Charlie’s chest.

“And I need my brother.”

Charlie looks at her hand. Then at her face. Then over her shoulder at Isaiah. Isaiah is watching all of this, with a calmly regal expression etched on his face.
Charlie’s shoulders rise and fall. He looks down at the floor, and at the steel steps he was trying to put Isaiah King through. He could pick them up. He could end this in a way nobody forgets….

But instead, he just hugs his sister.

JC: What an unbelievable turn of events! Jennie Nickles the Peacemaker! I never thought I’d see the day where Charlie’s thirst for depravity was quenched before the blood even spilled!

JR: That’s the power of family in action, right there!

Isaiah nods once like this is the outcome he always predicted. Jennie looks relieved.

The referee finally rolls to his side, and looks outside the ring to see the dislodged steel steps and the clear interferer. The referee sees that he has completely lost control, and he starts motioning immediately.

JC: The referee is awake- and I do not think he liked anything he just woke up to!

JR: You know how mad I would be if I woke up from a nap and there was an extra person in my bed? Call it off. I get it.

The referee waves to the timekeeper and calls for the bell.

The bell rings for a no-contest!

NO CONTEST!

There is a mix of boos and cheers. Not because the fans did not like it, but because they wanted more. Because they wanted blood. Because they wanted a winner!

Charlie takes a step back as Jennie turns back towards King. Isaiah raises a hand toward Jennie in invitation. It is subtle. It is commanding. Jennie looks at him. Then she looks back at her brother who is still standing there, drenched in sweat and anger.

She does not immediately go to Isaiah. She stays with Charlie for a second. She squeezes his arm. Then, she finally steps toward Isaiah. The pair walk up the ramp and head towards the back: presumably to prepare for their upcoming War Games matches.

JC: A year ago they celebrated together after War Games. Tonight they stand on opposite sides and the person in the middle is the person both of them need.

JR: That is how you make something personal. There was no chair shot to the head. There was no officials getting beat up on purpose. There was just a sister who does not want to watch her brother and her captain tear each other apart.

The camera closes in on Jennie’s face. She looks like someone who stopped a fight but did not fix the problem. The crowd starts a soft “Jennie” chant that grows just enough to be heard on the broadcast.

JC: This was supposed to be a co-main event, but it became a family therapy session. And with War Games on the horizon there is no way this is over. Not even close!

The shot fades on Charlie standing alone by the side of the ring, sweat dripping, hands on his hips, staring at the stage where his sister is leaving with the man who drafted her.

JC: And here we are! Our main event of the night! Between two men on the same WarGames team! The Captain and his Number One Pick!

JR: This is an absolutely wild match to have before these two team up… And with Dickie’s Television Title on the line!

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

XWF Television Championship
Dickie Watson ©
- vs -
Scoops McGee
15 Minute Time Limit

The bell rings, sharp and echoing through the hum of the crowd — not rowdy yet, but expectant.

15:00
14:59
14:58

Dickie Watson circles the ring first, light on his feet, chest rising and falling in short, rhythmic breaths.

Scoops McGee stands opposite, rolling his stiff neck, left forearm flexing with a deliberate rotation.

They step in for the first lock-up.

JC: “You can feel it already, Joe — that’s not just tension. That’s history in there. These two are fighting with more than just gold on the line!”
JR: “Yeah, I mean look, Scoops is old-school tough — 63 years old, bro. He’s got a left forearm like a cinder block. But Dickie? That kid doesn’t read body language, he translates it. This is gonna be chess versus blunt force trauma.”

They tie up — Scoops’ forearms clench with that old-farmer grip, hands like vises. Dickie grimaces, eyes flashing wide for a microsecond — not from pain, but calculation. He leans back, allowing Scoops to use his strength against himself. Scoops presses forward, thinking he’s driving momentum — his mouth curls upward, teeth bared in brief satisfaction — but Dickie slips under, pivoting and snapping into a quick waistlock.

Scoops huffs through his nose, a gruff exhale betraying his surprise. He lowers his base, shoving back, and Dickie barely avoids being crushed into the corner. The older man’s breathing grows audible — a grunt, then a scoff.

Dickie keeps his grip tight for just a moment longer than necessary — a small statement. Then he lets go, stepping back, offering space with a cautious nod.

He lifts that infamous left arm, rotates it slowly, almost like he’s winding up a warning. His eyes narrow.

[white]JC: You can feel the electricity in the crowd right now… They know it only takes one Cattle Prod for Scoops to turn a match in his favor!

JR: But he’s gotta hit it, Jacko! Scoops is used to working a slow, deliberately paced match… but he’s on the clock right now!

14:03
14:02
14:01

The competitors circle again. Scoops lunges first — big, lumbering, but still sharp — a grab at the collar-and-elbow again, but Dickie side-steps and fires off a low kick to the thigh. Thwack. Scoops grits his teeth, blinking once, quick and annoyed. His knee wobbles slightly.

JR: Scoops McGee is one tough sunovabitch! But you can see it in his eyes — that one stung!

Scoops answers with a hard shove, both palms striking Dickie’s chest and sending him into the ropes. Dickie rebounds… where Scoops is ready for an old-school Texas Lariat!

…No! Dickie ducks the wild lariat Scoops throws, slides behind, grabs the waist again — quick rollup attempt — but Scoops blocks it, sprawling down and catching Dickie with a forearm to the back!

JC: Fascinating clash of styles here! Both these men are used to disrupting their opponent’s flow, forcing them to adapt! Dickie’s trying to outgrapple the brawler Scoops, but Scoops is managing to tank his way through Dickie’s technical efforts!

13:14
13:13
13:12

Scoops manages to scoop Dickie into a seated full nelson hold! Dickie jerks forward with a wince, blinking hard. He plants one knee, pushes up slow through McGee’s grapple, and spins, breaking Scoops’ grip, facing his challenger once more!

WHAM! Right hand to the jaw!

Scoops staggers back a step-and-a-half… Briefly favoring his cheek… but smiling, like hell yeah, that’s how he likes it!

JC: Scoops is smiling after Dickie caught him with that right hand! Did it not hurt?

JR: I think it did, Jacuinde! And I think that’s why Scoops is smiling! He’s glad to see Dickie’s got some gumption and grit to him!

Dickie goes for a collar-and-elbow follow-up…

WHAM! Cattle Prod straight to the chest!

The crowd pops! Scoops’ left hand penetrates Dickie’s grapple and catches him, stinging right above the heart!

Dickie drops to one knee! Scoops charges forward, looking to put ‘er away…

But Dickie shoves Scoops backwards with both hands… forcing himself up to his feet!

JC: …Holy cow! Dickie took a cattle prod and is still ticking!

JR: Ticking’s a strong word, Jacuinde! That one had to have hurt like a motherfucker! But Dickie’s tough as shit too! These two are testing each other’s limits because in two weeks they’re gonna need to know them

11:45
11:44
11:43

Dickie’s eyes narrow, scanning Scoops’ stance — the left forearm still twitching, still there, a phantom threat. He takes a deep breath, then steps forward with renewed tempo. A feint high — a shoulder twitch that draws Scoops’ reaction, that heavy left starting to swing…

CATTLE PROD!

…But no! This time, Dickie slips under it, catches the arm, and rolls Scoops through into a surprise…

CRUCIFIX PIN!

JC: Dickie looking to steal this one!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-NO!

Scoops powers out like a shot, muscles coiling and exploding upward. Dickie rolls clear, pops to his feet with wide eyes and a grin — respectful, almost admiring. Scoops sits up, jaw clenched, smirking through the exertion.

JC: I can’t read lips, but I think Scoops just called Dickie a sneaky little bastard!

JR: But he said it with a smile on his face, Jacuinde!

11:01
11:00
10:59

Dickie shifts his stance, leaning slightly right to bait Scoops’ left swing…

JC: Absolutely insane strategy here by the Television champ! It’s like he’s daring Scoops McGee to throw another Cattle Prod!

JR: Dickie’s eaten one already tonight, Jacuinde! He knows about how fast it comes in… Dickie’s thinking he can use that left forearm to open Scoops up like a walnut… If he *can* dodge it every time, it’s the right strategy… If he can’t? It’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever seen!

Scoops lunges with a sharp, whipping forearm — a movement almost too fast for his size.

…But Dickie ducks low, rolling under Scoops’ swing, the impact grazing his shoulder. Dickie manages to roll off to the side, avoiding a follow-up strike from McGee

Scoops grunts as he pivots to face Dickie. He plants both feet firmly, raising that left arm for another strike… In response, Dickie feints a jab to the midsection, forcing Scoops to react, drawing the old man slightly forward. Then — quick as a whip — Dickie spins low, sweeping Scoops’ legs with a calculated leg hook. Scoops grunts, stumbling back… but keeping his footing!

JC: This one’s an old school duel! Two men circling each other, waiting for the other to make a mistake to unleash a KNOCKOUT strike!

JR: This feels like an hour time limit chess match, Jacuinde! But remember, this is a blitz! Scoops can’t afford to wait for Dickie to make a mistake!

9:44
9:43
9:42

Before Dickie can capitalize fully, Scoops re-gathers himself and his base, His body recoils like a loaded spring! Dickie fires a follow-up jab…

But this time, Scoops is the one ducking under! McGee fires a short-range back elbow! It connects with Dickie’s jaw!

Dickie bounces backward, blinking rapidly… His stance lowers, knees flexing, hands raised just enough to bait or block. His face hardens, eyes locking onto Scoops’ forearm, raised once more…

Scoops explodes forward, that infamous left forearm snapping across in a brutal arc...

But Dickie ducks low, letting the motion sail harmlessly above him, then rolls forward and pivots — grabbing Scoops’ waist in a lightning-fast cradle for a pin attempt!

ONE!

Nope! Scoops kicks out immediately, body convulsing slightly as he lands chest-first on the mat.

JC: Scoops kicked out with quickness that time! Dickie’s gotta know he’s not going to catch Scoops off guard with a day one trick like that!

JR: But remember Jacuinde! He doesn’t have to pin Scoops’ shoulders to the mat! Every one of these quick pins helps Dickie, because they all eat time off the clock!

8:55
8:54
8:53

Scoops’ rises slowly, brushing off the mat, hands on knees briefly as he exhales through his nose!

JC: Can’t argue with you there, Joe! Scoops needs to shift gears if he wants to walk out with the TV title… and, by the look on his face, he knows it!

Dickie pops to his feet, fists raised, chest heaving. Sweat drips from his temples, mouth slightly open, a grin flashing …

Scoops straightens fully, pivots toward Dickie with a deliberate, measured gait, forearm still twitching like a loaded weapon. His eyes burn with intention…

Dickie Watson shifts lightly on the balls of his feet, eyes scanning Scoops McGee from brow to boot.

Scoops, in response, coils like a spring, shoulders rolling back to loosen tension before he explodes. His left arm twitches involuntarily — the subtle prelude to his patented forearm strike.

Dickie feints a jab to the ribs, anticipating Scoops will stagger backwards defensively… Scoops reacts immediately, stepping into the jab, arms coming up instinctively!

JC: Scoops going for that Cattle Prod!

…But Dickie ducks low! Watson delivers a quick, snapping kick to Scoops’ knee. The sound echoes — thwack! Scoops’ body jerks instinctively, eyes widening briefly.

[white]JC: Nope! Dick is too quick to get licked!

Scoops’ jaw sets hard, and he straightens, nodding almost imperceptibly.

Scoops lunges, big, deliberate, but Dickie sidesteps with a sharp pivot. He grabs Scoops’ arm in a waistlock and rolls forward, attempting a small German suplex….

CONNECTS! Scoops’ body slams into the mat with authority, as Dickie bridges!

ONE!

TW-Nope! Scoops forces the shoulder up!

JC: Very telling here! Scoops knows he can’t afford to recover by kicking out at two! Time is against him, he’s gotta kick out fast to keep as many seconds on the clock as possible!

6:35
6:34
6:33

As Scoops kicks out, Dickie rolls backwards onto his feet, chest heaving, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Scoops pushes off the mat and advances, a slow, measured approach. His left arm twitches again; that forearm is a loaded threat.

Dickie bounces back lightly, feinting a strike to the midsection, then ducks under Scoops’ incoming forearm and springs to the ropes. He rebounds,, and launches a knee to Scoops’ midsection. The impact makes Scoops grunt, shoulders hunch slightly…

Dickie backs into the ropes, looking for another running strike… but this time Scoops takes off at the same time Watson does! Scoops lunges, catching Dickie mid-move with a shoulder block! Dickie gets taken off his feet!

JC: What a move by Scoops! Dickie looks dazed and confused after that stiff-as-FUCK shoulder block!

Dickie hits the mat hard, exhaling sharply, eyebrows furrowing… Scoops tries to crawl into a mount to lay on some offense with this opening… But Dickie rolls away, knees bouncing, quickly climbing back to a vertical base…

Scoops straightens, head cocking slightly, lips pressed into a thin line.

JC: That might’ve been Scoops’ opening! Dickie’s quickness is frustrating Scoops’ ability to pin him down and sap his will to keep fighting!

5:17
5:16
5:15

Dickie feints a low jab, shoulder dipping, eyes squinting — a subtle psychological lure. Scoops reacts instantly, stepping in to block, forearm snapping up instinctively.

Dickie ducks low, rolling forward and popping up behind Scoops, following it up drives a quick elbow into Scoops’ lower back. Scoops grunts in pain, but he keeps his footing

Scoops spins, shoulders coiling, and launches a stiff, snapping left forearm across Dickie’s chest!

CATTLE PROD!

The impact cracks through the ring — a sharp thwack! Dickie’s eyes widen, head snapping back, chest compressing from the sting. A sharp intake of breath escapes him; his arms flinch instinctively.

JC: Dickie takes another shot from Scoops but is still standing!

JR: Standing? Yes! …Still upright? Barely… You can feel just looking at Dickie how that cattle prod is rocking him to his core! It hurts to breathe after a shot like that!

…Indeed, Dickie has his arms up, circling… but there’s a grimace in his expression… like a snakebite spreading poison in his bloodstream… Scoops gets a little smirk across his face, as he steps a little closer in the circling, forearm twitching for another big strike…

Scoops swings!

…But no! Dickie drops into a crouch, and sprints for the opposite ropes!

Scoops backs up into the ropes, looking for another…

SHOULDER BLOCK!

…But this time Dickie sidesteps, catches Scoops around the neck!

RUSSIAN LEGSWEEP! Taking Scoops down to the mat!

Dickie hooks the leg!

ONE!

TW-Again, Scoops kicks out at the count of two!

JC: These are two truly special competitors! I’ve never seen a match like this, I could watch them go at it for hours!

JR: Then I have real bad news for you, Jacuinde! We’re in the final quarter of this fifteen-minute match!

3:45
3:44
3:43

Scoops goes to shove himself off the mat, tough-as-nails-like… but Dickie forces himself upright first… Lighting quick dropkick to Scoops chest!

Scoops takes Dickie’s boots on the chest… and somehow rises up through it! Scoops shakes off the impact, shoulders rolling, knees flexing.

Dickie exhales, visibly clear on his face he’s not sure what he’s gotta do to keep McGee down…

Scoops lunges forward!

RUNNING HIP ATTACK! Scoops slams his side into Dickie’s torso with calculated force.

Dickie stumbles back, eyes widening, head jerking slightly from the impact.

JC: Oh my! I think Scoops might be starting to close in on Dickie! He’s managed to take the worst Dickie’s offense has hit him with and is still ticking!

JR: But does he have enough time to secure the win here, Jacuinde?!?

3:01
3:00
2:59

As Dickie tries to lock up with McGee… Scoops lunges suddenly, catching with a short-arm clothesline, knocking him sideways into the corner. Dickie’s lungs tighten in his chest… but his hands push against the turnbuckle, chest heaving as he recovers…

JC: Ya gotta give it to Watson, he’s refusing to back down for even a moment!

As Dickie leaves the corner, Scoops charges, full intent behind the left forearm — and Dickie sidesteps, pivoting behind him, hooking his waist in a roll-up attempt.

ON-NO! Scoops twists back up, grabbing Dickie by the skull!

HEADBUTT!

Dickie rolls back into the ropes…

Stumbling forward into Scoops’ arms!

SPINNING POWERSLAM!

JC: That could do it! We might have a new Television champion here!

Scoops hooks Dickie’s legs!

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NOOOOOOO! DICKIE KICKS OUT!

JC: Dickie survives!

BG: But how much longer can he hang on, Jacuinde?!?

2:11
2:10
2:09

Scoops looks over his shoulder at the X-Tron, checking the time… he nods, knowing he’s gotta wrap this quick… he scoops Dickie up off the mat, by the scruff of the neck…

He shoves him between his legs!

JC: Oh man… This is exactly what Scoops did to put away Sebastian Everett-Bryce! Possibly the biggest win of his four-plus-decade long career! We could be getting ready to see a Dynamite Bomb!

Scoops scoops Dickie up onto his shoulders! The crowd rises to their feet!

DYNAMITE B-

…NOPE! Dickie slips off the back!

Scoops spins around! As Dickie scoops him off his feet for…

DICKIE’S REVENGE!

JC: WHAT A COUNTER! WHAT A MOVE!

JR: Dickie might steal this one! He might keep the TV Title!

Dickie hooks Scoops’ leg! The official drops to count!

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NOOOOOOO! SCOOPS KICKS OUT!

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

Both men lie in the ring exhausted!

JC: I can’t believe what I’ve witnessed thus far! This match has been insane!

JR: And there’s still sixty seconds to go!

1:01
1:00
0:59

Dickie Watson staggers to his feet, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his temples. His jaw is tight, eyes blazing, pupils locked on Scoops McGee, who’s just barely rising from the mat himself.

The crowd is a cacophony of cheers, sensing the final showdown — this is it.

Dickie bounces lightly, muscles tense, fists clenched, a slight grin flicking across his lips — this is my moment. He feints a jab to Scoops’ midsection, eyes narrowing, measuring the old man’s reaction. Scoops instinctively lifts the left forearm to block, chest heaving, jaw tight, lips curling — predictable, but dangerous.

Dickie pivots sharply, bouncing off the ropes, and launches a high knee to Scoops’ chest. Scoops stumbles back…

Dickie wastes no time. He runs toward Scoops, ducking under a wild forearm, and hooks him under the arms for a…

DICKIE’S REV-

NO! Scoops smacks down on Dickie’s arm, scooping him into the air…

JC: This’ll do it! Big Scoop incoming!

BIG SCO-

…

No! Dickie drops off the back behind Scoops! Watson wrapping his arms around the waist, and executes a lightning-fast German suplex, bridging immediately into a crucifix pin.

ONE!

TWO!

SCOOPS KICKS OUT!

…

JUST AFTER THE THREE!

DING!

WINNER AND STILL XWF TELEVISION CHAMPION: DICKIE WATSON!

JC: Dickie retains! With seconds to spare! What an absolute war between these competitors!

JR: But you can feel the respect between them, Jacuinde! These two brought out the very best of each other! And iron sharpens iron! These two did exactly what they needed to do to make the other as fierce as possible headed into WarGames!

The bell rings, and the raucous fan applause reaches a fever pitch after the HUGE back-and-forth TV title match! Both Dickie and Scoops are lying on their backs, riding off of the high this war brought them. They glance at each other, a nod of respect being shared between them.

Both competitors bring themselves back to their knees, heaving deep breaths…

Scoops extends a hand for a fist bump!

Dickie looks at it… and gives a fist bump right back to him! The crowd pops even harder!

The two teammates bring themselves right back to their feet, just as the referee comes back into the ring with the Television Championship! He’s about to award it, when…

“Cut the music!”

JC: That’s Elon Musk’s voice we’re hearing!

JR: Dude… I haven’t heard from Elon since the last time he’s been on my podcast. I wonder how he’s been doing…

JC: …We just saw him earlier tonight…

Out comes Elon Musk, flanked by both Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg. Scoops and Dickie both scowl at the sight, the two of them talking between each other as Musk continues to speak.

”Scoops! I made you an offer!” Elon howls down the microphone. ”Join the Corporation and accept your place!” Elon scowls. ”And in response, you said…”

…

”Something. I was half-paying attention. BUT IT WASN’T YES!” Elon sneers furiously. ”And for that… You and your little teammate there with you… After roughing each other up for fifteen minutes… Are about to get ROCKED! BY THE GROKS!”

The Trillionaires step aside… As the Twenty Groks from earlier march through the curtain!

JC: Oh man! Elon’s mini-army of twenty Groks! I think the Trillionaires realized, if the security team is under Kieran’s control, they’re gonna need their own little army!

JR: And they have one, Jacuinde! A legion of Groks at their disposal!

Scoops and Dickie both raise their fists, eager to throw hands as the Groks, as one synchronized unit, all simultaneously raise one eyebrow…

…Well, twenty eyebrows. At once.

Before rolling down the ramp toward the ring!

JC: Oh my! Things are about to get absolutely heinous out here! It’s two-on-twenty!

Dickie and Scoops go back-to-back, daring the Groks to come from outside and get in the ring!

All of a sudden, from behind the Groks, Kieran King!

Flanked by the King’s Guard!

JC: Oh my! Business is picking up here!

Immediately, Tommy Gunn and his security team start pounding through the Groks, managing to divide and conquer them into separate brawls into the stands…

While Kieran, unbothered by the chaos unfolding around the ring, marches casually toward it…

JC: Oh dear! It looks like Kieran has spared Scoops and Dickie a fight… but is he coming to fraternize with his fellow wrestlers who’ve also run afoul of management? OR is he coming to pick a fight with another WarGames team?!?

Scoops McGee and Dickie Watson stand next to each other, daring Kieran to get in the ring. He slowly walks down the aisle towards them, distracting them enough to allow Kristoffer Arroyo and Larry Tact to hit each of them from behind with chairs.

JC: And a sneak attack! This is War Games starting early!

JR: And look! It’s Big D! In my pants! And also coming into the ring too!

JC: …Did you just make a dick joke?

JR: I’m a stand-up comedian too!

JC: Wait, really? Have you tried telling any good jokes?

Regardless of the bickering between Jacuinde and Joe Rogan, D slides into the ring where he picks Scoops McGee up and hits a Dan Slam, before doing the same to Dickie Watson. He then picks the TV Title up, scoffs at it, and throws it out of the ring as King Kieran enters.

JC: You gotta wonder what they have in mind!

Kristoffer brings a worn down Dickie Watson to his feet and tosses him in Kieran's direction, allowing the King to hit an Ugly on the Outside! Arroyo then drags Scoops McGee into position to hit Romeo's Lament as Big D and Larry Tact look on.

JR: This team is looking to make a statement!

JC: ‘Looking?’ I believe they HAVE!

JR: McGee and Watson are just crash test dummies at this point. Where’s the rest of their team?

JC: Amber Mansley was on the wrong end of an X-Treme rules match earlier tonight, while I don’t think Richard Powers is even in the building!

JR: These guys picked a perfect time for this, didn’t they?

JC: Like it or not, they definitely did.

At the orders of King Kieran, Kristoffer Arroyo slides one of the chairs under Dickie Watson's head before picking up the other one and holding it out for Larry. Tact hesitates, to take it, before giving into the peer pressure of Vamp and Kieran. He lines up to deliver a vicious conchairto, but Big D steps forward and snatches the chair out of his hands to the shock of the crowd.

JR: What is he doing?!

JC: What most people would call the right thing.

King Kieran gets in D's face, questioning his motives. Big D holds the chair up, almost as if to hit the Universal Champion, before finally tossing it aside.

Big D: We've done enough!

Kieran goes to argue with him, but Larry Tact agrees with D. The two of them go to different corners where they hold their arms up in victory, motioning for the other 2 to do the same. Kristoffer looks at King for a reaction, getting a nod from the Team Leader before going over and following in line. King Kieran acts like he's going to do the sam…

Only to grab the chair and line up the Con-Chair-To himself!

[white]JC: Oh my! It looks like Kieran’s gonna try and take Dickie out early!

Kieran raises the chair as D rushes to stop h-

JC: NO WAY! NO FUCKING WAY!

The curtain part as Kieran drops his chair turning up the ramp!

AS GAMEGIRL AND AMBER MANSLEY RUSH DOWN THE CURTAIN!

JC: What the HELL is GameGirl doing here?!? We know Amber Mansley is on Scoops’ WarGames team!

JR: GameGirl is Scoops’ old tag partner from Scoops McGG! And somehow, she’s decided this is the moment to return! To BOOP the hell out of Kieran King!

Kieran hoists up the chair, ready to swing it…

As GG rolls under the bottom rope…

Kieran swings!

But GG ducks it! Keeps running and hits a running dropkick on Arroyo who rebounds back against the turnbuckle!

Amber Mansley starts brawling with D! Scoops and Tact throw hands! Watson recovers enough to start punching Kieran! GG clotheslines Arroyo over the top rope and they brawl outside the ring!

JC: This one’s absolutely going nuts! Folks, if you wanna see more of this, BUY WARGAMES!

JR: Nicely done, Jacuinde! That’s how you sell a pay-per-view!

THANKS TO OUR MATCH WRITERS

PETER PRINCIPLE
LIAM DESMOND
'BIG' DICK LICHTER
KRISTOFFER ARROYO

OUR SEGMENT WRITERS

THE HOUSE OF KING
THE HOUSE OF HARDCORE
THE TRILLIONAIRES

AND EVERYONE WHO RP'D

]]>

November - 3 - 2025

LIVE FROM BANK OF OKLAHOMA CENTER

TULSA,OKLAHOMA

Betsy Granger
- vs -
Latoya Hixx
Falls Count Anywhere

'Psycho' Solomon ©
- vs -
Amber Mansley
X-Treme Rules

Jennie Nickles
- vs -
El Landerson
X-Treme Rules

Tatiana Jolee
- vs -
Reggie Estrada
Pure Wrestling Rules

Larry Tact
- vs -
Dwayne ‘The Grok’ Johnson 2.0
Singles

Kristoffer ‘Vamp’ Arroyo
- vs -
Sarah Wolf
Singles

Isaiah King
- vs -
Charlie Nickles
Singles

XWF Television Championship
Dickie Watson ©
- vs -
Scoops McGee
15 Minute Time Limit

Earlier tonight…

In the Warfare GM’s office…

Betsy Granger
- vs -
Latoya Hixx
Singles

Winner: Betsy Granger

Later… In the Warfare GM’s office…

Amber Mansley is already in the ring as Warfare comes back from commercial.

'Psycho' Solomon ©
- vs -
Amber Mansley
X-Treme Rules

WINNER AND STILL XTREME CHAMPION: ‘PSYCHO’ SOLOMON!

Later Still… In the Warfare GM’s office…

When Booyka 619 hit's he walks out on stage and kneels down on one knee and prays. He gets up and points to the Fans in Pyro fireworks burst open and switch to the other side of the stage in does the same thing in after he was done he slowly walks down the ramp in slaps some little kids high fives and he stops and stares at the kid in hands him his Luchdor Mask to him and heads straight towards the ring and hops on the turnbuckle and pose both fingers in mid air and walks to the other side turnbuckle in does the same thing mid finger in the air in he gets down and waits for the match to start.

JC: And now for the Bit Luchador himself, El Landerson! If you love high-flying action, you will love the bit luchador!

JR: He’s gotten off to a rocky start so far in the XWF, dropping matches to both Ace Sky and Razor Blade: but he’s right on the verge of really turning things around. A win here tonight over Jennie Nickles could be just what he needs to get some momentum!

Jennie Nickles
- vs -
El Landerson
X-Treme Rules

Winner - Jennie Nickles

Even Later Still… In the Warfare GM’s office…

Tatiana Jolee
- vs -
Reggie Estrada
Pure Wrestling Rules

ROPE BREAK! Reggie Estrada has two remaining!

ROPE BREAK! REGGIE ESTRADA HAS ONE REMAINING!

ROPE BREAK! TATIANA JOLEE HAS TWO ROPE BREAKS REMAINING!

WINNER BY DISQUALIFICATION: REGGIE ESTRADA!

TACTILIZING ONE

GAME CHANGER

LIMIT BREAKER

LARRY TACT
- vs -
20 GROKS
Elimination Match

JR: …I feel for a match like this, we can do a better pre-match graphic. Jamie, could you throw something together real quick?

New-Project-6

NINETEEN GROKS REMAIN

EIGHTEEN GROKS REMAIN!

SEVENTEEN GROKS REMAIN

WITH A SLEDGEHAMMER!

JC: Tact’s got a hammer!

NO CONTEST

The arena is bathed in a deep red light that brings out the shadows in every nook and cranny as "Deep Set" by Greg Puciato starts to play. Kristoffer Arroyo steps through the entrance way, looking cool and confident behind his bright pink shades. Then, sliding up behind him comes Samael Dyson. He saunters down to the ring, taking his time and seeming to savor the moment before suddenly exploding into a slide into the ring as Samael rolls under the bottom rope and hops up to his feet, waggling his tongue at a disgusted Sarah Wolf. Kris then steps through the ropes onto the ring apron, where he wraps his legs around the middle rope and hangs himself upside down with his arms outstretched like an inverted cross. He smiles for the camera, revealing long sharpened incisors, before sitting up and rolling up and over the top rope and to the canvas. Meanwhile, Samael keeps teasing the fact that he might approach Sarah Wolf but never does. Sarah, with an evil grin, beckons Samael to make good on his threat, but instead he waves a hand at her dismissively and gets to the outside as Kris takes up a position in the center of the ring.

JC: Can’t say that I’m loving Samael’s presence here at ringside.

JR: Who does? The dude’s a creep.

JC: Sarah’s going to need to keep her head on a swivel in this match.

Kristoffer ‘Vamp’ Arroyo
- vs -
Sarah Wolf
Singles

WINNER: KRISTOFFER ARROYO

Isaiah King
- vs -
Charlie Nickles
Singles

NO CONTEST!

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

The bell rings, sharp and echoing through the hum of the crowd — not rowdy yet, but expectant.

15:00
14:59
14:58

14:03
14:02
14:01

13:14
13:13
13:12

11:45
11:44
11:43

11:01
11:00
10:59

9:44
9:43
9:42

8:55
8:54
8:53

6:35
6:34
6:33

5:17
5:16
5:15

3:45
3:44
3:43

3:01
3:00
2:59

2:11
2:10
2:09

1:01
1:00
0:59

WINNER AND STILL XWF TELEVISION CHAMPION: DICKIE WATSON!

THANKS TO OUR MATCH WRITERS

PETER PRINCIPLE
LIAM DESMOND
'BIG' DICK LICHTER
KRISTOFFER ARROYO

OUR SEGMENT WRITERS

THE HOUSE OF KING
THE HOUSE OF HARDCORE
THE TRILLIONAIRES

AND EVERYONE WHO RP'D

]]> <![CDATA[SPOOKY SAVAGE - October 20th, 2025]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49418 Wed, 22 Oct 2025 02:26:58 -0700 'Big' Dick Lichter]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49418

10 - 20 - 2025

LIVE FROM JIGSAW’S LAIR

Ace Sky
- vs -
El Landerson
Scaffold Match

Latoya Hixx
- vs -
XXXVI
Iron Mask Match

WARGAMES’ CAPTAINS MATCH
Scoops McGee
- vs -
King Kieran
- vs -
Betsy Granger
- vs -
‘Psycho’ Solomon
- vs -
Jennie Nickles
- vs -
Isaiah King
Special Guest Referee: Charlie Nickles
Killer Tub Match
Draft Order shall be determined in order of escape – First to Escape will have the option to choose between drafting first and drafting last

IN THE SKYBOX LOOKING DOWN AT JIGSAW’S LAIR

The Trillionaires sit around a boardroom table…

Bezos is picking a small cap, like the one a cockney orphan from a Charles Dickens novel might wear… OUT of his teeth.

Zuck is wearing a fur coat and a backwards cap, as he scrolls around on his laptop…

As Elon stares… Furiously from the skybox at the ring below…

”So.” Bezos begins… ”About this… Scarlet Verdict situation… Something must be done.”

”I dunno, homie!” Zuck flips around his laptop, showing graphs and charts pointing up. ”Analytics are POPPIN’ right now! Everybody’s click-click-clackin’ on XWF stories and news! We’re super-ultra-mega VIRAL!”

”Right.” Bezos affirms. ”But the stories they’re clicking are… XWF hires convicted murderer… XWF security pepper-sprays its own fans… XWF shows a robot murder…”

”I mean, whatevz.” Zuck shrugs… ‘shrucks’? ”I mean, is it a murder when it’s a robot? It’s not like he can feel p-”

”SHE.”

…

Elon, who has been completely silent up to this point, spins on his colleagues.

”SHE. MY GROK-I-KINS. MY CYBERNETIC CHAMPION IN THE RING AND AI GOTH GIRLFRIEND OUTSIDE THE RING… SHE DESTROYED HIM. AND THEN SHE… ” Elon’s mouth froths with rage. ”She… TOOK HER… CLAIMED HER!”

…

Bezos squints confused. ”Wait, Is a Grok a he or she?...You just used both.”

”This INDIGNITY…” Elon raises his fist, completely ignoring his co-Trillionaire’s inquiry… ”Will not be tolerated!”

”Ugh… but like…” Zuck flips through tabs to a picture of… The Nickleman!

”Like… Jennie’s Charlie’s fam, dawg! Familia, yo! And Charlie’s in the Corporation! And the Corporation is in the Trillionaires!”

…

Zuck’s eyes turn toward Bezos. ”Right? Isn’t it?”

In the time the other two trillionaires haven’t been looking at Bezos, he’s now gnawing on a very child-sized femur bone… he shrugs. ”I haven’t learned the name of a person who works for me in nineteen years. And I only learned that guy’s name because he was the first man I ever fed to my lions…”

”I’m pretty sure, tho! Charlie’s in the Corp, my dawgz! And if he’s a teammate…”

”WE DON’T HAVE TEAMMATES.” Elon barks. ”We have employees. And when they get out of line… we take them DOWN.”

…

”And Jennie Nickles. Is way…

Way…

WAY OUT-OF-LINE!”

”Well…” Bezos sighs, tucking his child femur into his coat pocket where he keeps human bones he likes to chew on… ”What do we propose we do? She’s a Captain going into a match where we just put the Universal Title on the line… She’s in prime position to get exactly what she wants… a title belt to take time off her sentence.”

”Oh… I have plans…” Musk snaps his fingers…

A door opens… And a silhouette stands in the doorway…

”Gentleman… allow me to introduce… our Contingency plan.”

The silhouette steps into the room…

The other trillionaires peer in awe…

…as the feed fades to black.

The arena lights dim to black. A low metallic creak echoes through the air — the unmistakable groan of chains under tension. Above the ring, a narrow, rail-less scaffold sways gently, suspended in the void. Spotlights sweep upward, capturing the precarious nature of what will become the scene for this epic fight.

JC: Look at that, Joe! That scaffold’s barely wide enough for a single step— and there’s nothing beneath them but darkness. You fall off this thing, you might not even know where you’re going to land!

JR: Yeah, that’s... that’s absolutely insane, man. I’ve seen some wild stuff in Japan, some backyard craziness on YouTube, but this? There’s no padding. No safety rails. Just two guys trusting their balance and maybe their gods. You ever done DMT, man? One time, I thought I was talking to God and I whispered my darkest secrets into his gaping maw… turns out, it wasn’t God, it was a rerun of Saved by the Bell where Zac Morris does redface an-

JC: Joe, let’s… let’s go to the match.

A rocket sculpture drops from the ceiling! The video cameras in Jigsaw’s Lair display a count down from five…

JC: Ace Sky! He’s a former world champion! He absolutely stunned, making his debut at Relentless in the Opening Night Battle Royal, where he got a shocking elimination over Dwayne “The Grok” Johnson!

JR: Ace Sky is opening his third eye and tonight he’s set to fly, my guy!

JC: Joe, just then, you were a poet and you didn’t even know it!

JR: I absolutely knew it, Jacuinde, I read that line straight off cue cards.

The podbay doors of the rocket open and Ace walks out wearing an aviator jacket that matches the dominant color of his tights, he stands with his hands clasped together in a prayer taunt then raises his arms with twin peace signs finger gesture! He salutes to the world, then points to his forehead with the Third Eye Taunt and high-fives as many fans as possible until he reaches the base of the ladder up to the scaffold…

When Booyka 619 hits, El Landerson walks out on stage and kneels down on one knee and prays. He rises up and walks across the spooky room to the other scaffold.

JC: And there’s our other competitor tonight, the Bit Luchador, El Landerson! Making his XWF debut tonight! He has his sights set on Universal champion, Kieran King! He has his sights set on Television Champion, Dickie Watson! But, tonight, he’s got a tall order, finding a way to beat Ace Sky!

JR: Every order’s a pretty tall order when you’re El Landerson’s height. He’s 5’2”, but he’s quick like a…
…

JR: Like a… a really quick thing.

JC: …I miss Brody.

As the two men reach the base of their scaffolds, they briefly make eye contact and nod, showing respect for one another…

As the two climb… Suddenly, over the very rusty speaker system hooked up through Jigsaw’s Lair…

[Image: saw-jigsaw-killer-scary-face-9sf1ca6cv6ya2ugl.gif]

[Image: saw-jigsaw-killer-scary-face-9sf1ca6cv6ya2ugl.gif]

Ace… Landerson…
You think yourself immune to gravity… You put your life on the line for the thrill of the crowd… Your disrespect for life disgusts me…
You both partake in high-risk maneuvers. But this match won’t end until one of you gambles… and loses…
Live.

Or die.

After Jigsaw consecrated their battle with his haunting benediction… both competitors crawl onto the narrow metal plank. Every step makes the structure clank and rattle, as Ace and Landerson make their way to the center of the structure…

Ace Sky
- vs -
El Landerson
Scaffold Match

They step forward— slowly, cautiously, arms extended like tightrope walkers. The scaffold sways slightly as they shift their weight.

JC: There’s no ring ropes, no corner, no ropes to rebound off of… they’re learning an entirely new kind of gravity right now.

JR: They’re using micro-movements to feel each other out. One wrong counterbalance and they’re toast. It’s pure proprioception.

JC: C’mon, you can’t just make up words on color commentary.

JR: Jacuinde, proprioception is a perfectly cromulent word.

JC: Joe, I’m gonna look up ‘proprioception’ right now and if it’s not a word, we’re gonna have a serious conversation about professionalism and commentating… Pulling out my commentator’s dictionary now…

…

……

JR: Well?

JC: …Oh, look! The competitors are grappling!

Sky and Landerson lock up. Ace, towering over Landerson by about six inches, drops to a low stance — a Taekwondo base — and sweeps for Landerson’s ankle. Landerson hops back, regains balance, and shoots forward with a collar-and-elbow tie-up. They strain, muscles tight, scaffold trembling…

JC: This has gotta be strange and unusual for both competitors! Usually, in a lock-up, you’re shifting and circling your steps to try and break your opponent’s center of gravity…

JR: But neither of these guys have any room to shift or circle! It’s gonna come down to whose stronger, whose more technically sound, and who took their daily dose of omega-3 supplements!

JC: For sure, an-... what?

Ace rotates his stance to be perpendicular with the walkway, like a fencer, as he transitions into a wristlock, trying to twist Landerson by the arm straight off the walkway!

…But Landerson smacks Ace’s arm downward, breaking his grip, and twists Ace’s wrist behind his back into a hammerlock!

…But Landerson forcing Ace to rotate! But the torque throws both men off equilibrium—Landerson releases as the walkway sways side-to-side…

JC: Oh my God! There’s so much give to the scaffold! It’s only held in the air by loose metal chains! What if it flips over?!?

JR: Oh man, that’d be some American Ninja Warrior shit. I hope that happens.[/white[

Both mens’ arms shoot straight out…

…Phew, the walkway swings less and less, before finding its center…

[white]JC: Phew… Folks, you can see how every technical exchange up here has double risk. Usually, in a grapple, you’re thinking about leverage—here, you’re thinking about gravity too!

JR: This is a physics problem, man. It’s like chess, but you’re playing chess on a plank and under the plank is literally Hell… Oh man, I just thought of a new sport. Jamie, can you call the Devil and see where we should setup a plank?

JC: Joe, I’ve explained to you a number of times now… this isn’t your podcast studio and Jamie isn’t here.

They reset. Both breathe deep. A hint of respect forms — a nod from Landerson, a faint grin from Ace.

Landerson lunges again, feinting high before ducking through Sky’s legs, coming up behind him for a waistlock.

But Ace leans forward, going into a wheelbarrow wheelstand, looking to dragonscrew Landerson off the side!

…HE DOES!

…But Landerson clings onto the side! And the scaffold starts to tilt over!

JC: Oh no! The whole structure could give way here!

Sky goes from his wheelbarrow handstand to desperately clinging onto the scaffold as it starts to tip… He climbs, hanging his chest over the side, to provide counterweight…

…The scaffold manages to rock back to its original position… Sky rolls himself onto his back…

And Landerson manages to pull himself back up as well! The two lie on the scaffold… frustration and exhaustion mounting for both competitors!

JC: Impressive BIT of strength there for the BIT Luchador! And amazing that Sky almost pulled a highly-agile counter to take the match right there! But you can feel the growing frustration both competitors feel with this… VERY atypical environment. Even pushing off the scaffold too hard can cost you your footing!

JR: Yeah, you can’t use traditional ring instincts here. You’re not bouncing off anything. It’s like fighting on ice… that’s also on fire.

Both men very gingerly rise to the feet… And then spin towards each other

Ace latches Landerson in another collar-and-elbow… Landerson spins and tries to throw Ace over his shoulder with a snapmare—Ace goes up and over, but lands on the back of his legs… When Landerson dive-dropkicks him in the back!

And the sudden weight shift sends the scaffold LEAPING into the air! Sky clings on for dear life… as once again, Landerson, bounced by his own leap, is clinging onto the side…

JC: Who even invented this scaffold match stipulation? This guy’s can barely fight without risking a fall to the bottom!

Landerson’s grip may give… He’s hanging on…

…

But, he latches a foot over the side and pulls himself back up!

JC: That’s a thing not everyone realizes about a scaffold match, Joe! Every time you fight to survive, it costs SO much energy! It is exhausting just staying in this one!

JR: Imagine if every time you wanted to stay in a wrestling match, instead of raising your shoulder, you had to do an unassisted pull-up. You’re right, Jacuinde, conditioning and stamina is vital in a scaffold match environment…

As Landerson’s breath heaves, doubled over, trying to recover his strength… Ace advances!

…But Landerson leaps off his feet, seeking a Flying Lariat!

…No! Ace ducks, Landerson skids to one knee, nearly losing his footing. Ace steadies him with one hand—then uses the other to SPINNING BACKFIST lightly across the mask.

[white]JC: …Did Ace just cling onto Landerson’s arm so he wouldn’t fall… and then hit him in the face? What do you make of that, Joe? A sign of confidence—or maybe a little disrespect from Ace Sky?

JR: 100% disagree with either assessment, Jacuinde. Landerson’s proven he can pull himself back up, he’s got that little man strength… Ace isn’t gonna trip him over the side, if he wants to win, he realizes he’s gotta smack him off.

…Landerson adjusts his mask on his face, fuming angry… He charges… BUT again, even a quick-step sends the scaffold rocking…

Sky points to his forehead, gesturing towards his third eye… before raising his arms…a dn lowering his arms with an exhale…

…Landerson nods, doing the same.

JC: Sky trying to help Landerson work through that hot luchador temper he has!

JR: Sky is a hippie buddhist, he knows that in chaos there is opportunity… but he also knows if Landerson keeps running like a maniac, he’s gonna fall off even if he wins! Gotta keep this little dude level and chill… and THEN huck him off!

Having successfully centered themselves… Landerson and Sky square up again. Both take slow, calculated steps. Landerson fakes another lock-up—then leaps into a Flying Hurricanrana!

As he spins, the scaffold starts rocking!

JC: Oh my! Landerson’s trying to turn this scaffold into a roulette wheel! We’re gonna have to discover the winner by figuring out which body splatted second!

…NO! As Landerson yanks his body backwards to send Ace tumbling… Ace plants his legs wide… and counters by catching Landerson mid-spin and stabilizing both their balance, then gently sets Landerson back down!

The crowd erupts.

JC: WHAT CONTROL! Ace Sky just turned a hurricanrana into a stalemate!

JR: I think that’s the first time a crowd has ever cheered a sequence where at the end… nothing happened!

The two competitors back away slowly, hands up in mutual respect as the fans chant:

“THIS IS WRESTLING! *clap clap clapclapclap*

The camera pans down into the abyss below. It’s pure black. The chains sway, the lights flicker, and you can hear the faint clatter of metal echoing somewhere in the dark.

Both men look down briefly — then up at each other.

JC: This is fight-or-flight, Joe! Both of these men are facing the fear of the fall! The thing that nags at the back of your mind when you climb as often as these two men do! But the only way one of these men is escaping is by forcing the other to come face to face with that fear!

They lock up again—fierce, desperate.

Landerson manages to hook Ace’s ankle with a quick inside sweep! Ace stumbles forward as Landerson sidesteps to let him slip over… but Ace plants both hands on the metal, catching himself inches from the edge. Landerson lunges to capitalize—Ace rolls sideways, lightning-quick, and the entire scaffold lurches!

The crowd gasps! The plank tilts! Chains scream as metal shifts.

Both men freeze—then whoosh—the entire scaffold FLIPS OVER!

JC: OH MY GOD!

JR: Yessssssss! Yes, I wanted that to happen VERY badly! …Are they dead now or what?

Cameras whip upward. The plank now hangs upside down, both men dangling beneath it like bats, clinging to the steel grating.

JR: …Awww.

JC: Landerson and Sky have flipped the scaffold over! They are both clinging onto that scaffold for DEAR LIFE! A single slip of the grip and they’ll drip into the abyss and go blip!

JR: Hey, don’t read my rhyming cue cards! Those are for me!

Landerson’s mask flutters in the air, sweat raining into the abyss below. He snarls, growling with fighting spirit, pulling himself arm-by-arm closer to Ace. Meanwhile, Ace dangles with perfect calm, breathing through his nose, eyes half-closed—the Middle Way.

Landerson swings a leg up and kicks! Ace barely shifts aside—the air whooshes by his ear.
Another kick! This time Ace catches it between his arm and ribs, using the motion to steady himself.

JC: Look at that control! Ace is centered!

Joe Rogan: He’s using leverage instead of brute force!

Landerson yanks backward, trying to free his leg—but that’s exactly what Ace wants.

He exhales, drops his weight just enough to let Landerson’s momentum pull him off-center, and then—rotates his hips.

Using the same movement that powers his “Psychedelic Spiral,” Ace rolls his body into a torque, flipping Landerson’s trapped leg into a spiral of its own.

The scaffold shakes violently—Landerson loses his grip with one hand—then the other—

JC: LANDERSON’S SLIPPING—

JR: HE’S GONE!

Landerson plummets into darkness! His mask is the last thing the camera catches before it vanishes into the void below.

The arena is dead silent for one long heartbeat—

Then Ace, still hanging upside down, slowly pulls himself up hand over hand, his body trembling from exertion. He hooks one arm over the edge, then another, and drags himself back atop the scaffold.

WINNER: ACE SKY!

JC: It’s over! ACE SKY has done it! By the grace of balance and technique, Ace Sky wins!

JR: That’s wild, man. That wasn’t just a fight—that was a masterclass in control under chaos. He didn’t overpower Landerson. He redirected him. He let the fall happen naturally. That’s the Middle Way, right there. I remember one time, I was doing whippets with Tito Ortiz and he sa-

JC: Jigsaw, go to commercial. Please. This is TORTURE!

Backstage, Dickie Watson is seen running through his pre-match warm-up.

A door opens with a creak that in any other circumstance might seem innocent. But here in Jigsaw's lair, darkness prevails, and Dickie has plenty of ghosts of Christmas past that could come back to haunt him in tonight’s lumberjack match.

The lustre of avaricious gold upon the alleged ghost births another horror for Dickie—being forced to spend any length of time with someone with his head so far up his own ass as Kieran King's is. Alas, the reigning King of the Universe is indeed here in the Television Champion's space.

A brief glimpse is caught of The King's imposing security force lurking just beyond the door.

As is his way, Kieran's eyes immediately find gold in the form of Dickie's TV Title.

King Kieran: Nice little prize you’ve for yourself there.

Dickie regards Kieran suspiciously.

Dickie Watson: …Thanks.

King Kieran: Hey, fun fact, back in March that title was on the line in every match the champ at the time had during the Ides of March tournament… EXCEPT the final! I have no idea why. But can you imagine what this place would be like if after dropping Aurora, I had that wrapped around my waist. You might not even be champion right now!

Dickie Watson: True. But I might just have a different title instead...

Kieran catches Dickie's eyes wandering towards his own Universal Championship.

Then, abruptly, he laughs. The line between forced and genuine has never sounded so blurred.

King Kieran: Hey, look at us!

He playfully punched Dickie's arm and continued on with his best Paul Rudd impersonation.

King Kieran: Who'd have thought?

Dickie's laugh in response is much easier to detect the authenticity of, or lack thereof.

King Kieran: Crazy thing about putting the titles on the line in War Games, eh? Unprecedented times. Doesn't seem right, does it? This petty Trillionaire Triumvirate is trying to ruin all the hard that people like you and I put in. I feel like we should maybe band together and do something about…

Dickie pauses, looking Kieran up and down.

Dickie Watson: You mean like sort of… collective action?

Kieran nods enthusiastically.

King Kieran: Exactly! You, me, Atty, TK… if all us champions banded together we might just be able to do somethi—

Dickie cuts him off. An air of sarcasm drips from his voice.

Dickie Watson: Right! Why stop there? Let's get everyone in War Games together—no, better yet, the entire company! We can organise a strike! Then they'd have to listen!

King Kieran: Well I'm not sure about that…

Dickie Watson: No of course you're not. Because Dolly Waters tried that and you threw obstacle after obstacle in front of her because it suited you. Now, the shoe is on the other foot and you come crawling back to this side for help.

Kieran's eyes flared and he took half a step closer to Dickie.

King Kieran: Do you see me crawling anywhere?[white]

Dickie didn't back down. He glanced at the XWF Security Team just outside the door.

Dickie Watson: Maybe ‘hiding’ is a better word for it.

They stared each other down for several seconds before Kieran eventually broke it off with a smile.

[white]King Kieran: It's always interesting to see the moment that someone realises they enjoy the taste of boot.

He was clearly twisting Dickie’s perspective on things.

Dickie Watson: Maybe you're right to be mad. But make sure it's at the right person. Because one person in this room could've stopped this from happening, and it's not me.

Kieran glared at Dickie, before backing towards the door.

Just before Kieran had left the room completely, Dickie added one final point.

Dickie Watson: Oh and Kieran… please don't forget that one of the reasons I put my name to Dolly’s union was because of the kick YOU had lined up for me after she and I faced.

I certainly haven't…

Scoffing Kieran slammed the door shut on Dickie Watson, leaving the Television Champion to his preparation.

The camera followed The King as he joined again with his personal army.

Tommy Gunn came rushing over.

Tommy Gunn: Your Majesty… the men were conducting their routine sweeps while you were here. When checking out the locker room prepared for you, they found this…

Tommy handed Kiersn a small piece of paper. Kieran’s eyes widened as he read it.

Tommy Gunn: Do you know what it means?

Kieran began to shout.

King Kieran: It means that somebody got in there who shouldn't have even been in the building! Which means that one of the team let somebody in that they shouldn't without checking with me first!

The King stormed to confront his men.

King Kieran: I want double the sweeps, double the questioning, and double the attention to fucking detail! Got it?!

They confirmed their understanding in unison:

“LONG LIVE THE KING!”

King Kieran: And you…

He turned his attention to Tommy.

King Kieran: Get me a new locker room. Shit, take the space over there that Dickie is warming up in if you have to!

Tommy Gunn: Yes, Your Grace.

Tommy bowed his head and set off to work.

The King meanwhile, still surrounded by his troops, looked down at the note again.

The camera panned over his shoulder.

There, in the middle of the page, a message was written in what appeared to be ash.

"Another time, dear friend…
A.

He screwed up his face, and then screwed up the paper. Tossing it to the ground, he and his men left the foreboding message behind.

And here, in Jigsaw's lair, one of the darkest pits of human-made depravity that exists… something else lurked…

Something… unknown.

Without the hand of man, the note caught fire. It burned in a bright flash before abnormally hurrying towards its end and finally fading to black.

JC: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this absolute spectacle — an Iron Mask Match! Both competitors will be completely blind until they can free themselves by breaking the combination on their mask! XXXVI versus Latoya Hixx — this is about to get weird!

JR: Yeah, this is insane. I’ve seen some wild stuff in MMA, but two people fighting blind, locked in iron masks? That’s another level of chaos, Jacuinde. You can’t even read your opponent’s body language!

The stage alights in red. Smoke gathers around the stage. Gods by Sleep Token plays as XXXVI appears, rising up out of the red lights amidst the smoke, his hands gathered in prayer. He steps out onto the stage and takes in the mixed reaction from the crowd. He shakes his out his head and shoulders and begins to walk down the ramp, hands still in prayer pose. Then from behind him, appears CIX. She follows him down the ramp.

JC: Here he is, the mystery man holding the Revolution Title… XXXVI! I don’t think there’s a man more dangerous in a one-on-one contest with a first-time opponent. XXXVI managed to knock off Thunder Knuckles of all people, one of the only competitors in history to hold EVERY belt in the modern era!

JR: It’s a big accomplishment, Jacuinde! And he could use all the momentum he can get for their rematch before Anarchy, where TK and a mystery opponent defend the Anarchy tags against XXXVI and his director. But, if he treats this one like a tune-up, there’s a healthy chance he’s gonna get WRECKED in the Storm!

Half way down, XXXVI spreads his hands apart and reaches out both arms in T-Pose as he crouches, sauntering down the rest of the ramp toward the ring. He climbs onto the apron, outstretches his arms and then enters, rolling backward over the top rope and spins toward the center of the ring, arms outstretched like a helicopter. He then sits, cross legged in the dead center of the ring, hands once again in prayer pose and bows his head. Full black again, then a single, red cone of light bathes him in the ring as fire explodes out of each turnbuckle. Outside the ring, CIX surveys the crowd as they await the match starting.

…

JC: Latoya’s coming off some tough outings, but every time she steps in there, she proves she’s as strong — and as unpredictable — as anyone in the XWF.

BG: And I like her odds here! Betsy’s been floatin’ around the galaxy, fightin’ moon aliens or space lizards or somethin’. Latoya’s got gravity on her side! You can’t suplex gravity, Jackie boy!

…

As the two stand in the ring… two iron masks drop from the ceiling, hanging on chains…

Suddenly, over the rusty loudspeaker… a voice rattles…

i]Latoya… XXXVI… you shield yourselves from the public… the former, with her bravado and muscular definition, hiding your deep insecurities… the latter, an enigma unknown to everyone…

But, to win this match, you must drop your shields… and reveal yourself…

Don your masks. If you do not in one minute’s time, the ring with fill with a toxic nerve agent…

…

JC: Wait, is he allowed to do that?

JR: His venue, his rules!

…XXXVI quickly dons the mask with no complaints… Latoya barks insults and heated remarks at Jigsaw’s speakers… But after a few seconds, she hurriedly puts on her mask as well.

Once they do… SNAP! The masks latch onto the back of each competitor’s head.

Now… you are as blind to the world, as the world is to your true selves… You may battle blind… or attempt to solve the combination of your mask…

The choice is yours…

…As they both gingerly step from the corners where the masks were dropped… into the spotlight at the center of the ring, their masks become more clear… XXXVI is wearing an iron-molded version of the mask he wears to the ring… And Latoya is wearing a mask that looks like a snorting enraged bull!

JC: This is so twisted, Joe! Neither competitor can see a thing in those masks!

JR: …I know. Jigsaw literally just said that.

DING DING!

LATOYA HIXX
- vs -
XXXVI
Iron Mask Match

The moment the bell sounds, Latoya Hixx roars like a wild animal, swinging wildly at the air. KICK! HAYMAKER! STOMP!

…Each coming… NOWHERE near her opponent…

JC: Hixx’s sheer strength makes every missed blow echo through the arena like a thunderclap!

JR: If one of them made contact, she could snag the win right now! But, at the moment, she’s hits nothing but air and the mat!

Meanwhile, XXXVI crouches low, feeling the vibrations of the mat with his palms like a monk reading the earth. His movements are slow, deliberate — methodical. He takes small steps backward until his fingers brush the bottom rope.

JC: Two *thoroughly* different approaches here, Joe! While Latoya barges forward, looking for a first-round knockout… XXXVI’s not rushing in — he’s feeling it out, Joe. That’s that world-traveled discipline he’s known for.

JR: That’s smart, man. He’s using his sense of space, probably even using sound to gauge where she is. But man… he’s one wrong step away from getting obliterated by that woman’s power.

Hixx, growing frustrated, throws a massive diving lariat that catches nothing but air. She stumbles forward, crashing chest-first into the ropes. XXXVI uses the sound of the ropes creaking to guide himself — slowly climbing up to the top turnbuckle, inch by inch, feeling the turnbuckles and ropes beneath his fingertips.

The crowd murmurs as XXXVI perches high above the ring, blind but composed, trying to buy time to crack the combination on his mask. His fingers shakily feel for the dial, turning it with care… flipping through numbers on the front of his mask… seemingly listening acutely to the sounds of the tumblers for number in its correct position!

JC: The match just started and XXXVI’s already going for the combination! He’s actually trying to unlock himself from the top turnbuckle

JR: That’s genius! The higher he is, the harder it’ll be for Hixx to find him! She’s fighting like a bull down there, and bulls can’t climb turnbuckles!

JC: In any other context, that would be the stupid-est sentence I’ve ever head, but here it makes perfect sense!

Down below, Hixx is snorting with fury, breathing hard under the heavy iron mask. She can hear movement but not place it — she charges toward the noise…

But ends up tackling the referee between the two instead!

JC: Oh no! Latoya’s got the official!

Joe Rogan: Hixx thinks the referee is XXXVI! How c- DEAR GOD, Look at the power!

Hixx hoists the referee up like a ragdoll, roaring, and launches him into the nearest corner! The referee hits the turnbuckle spine-first — and collides with XXXVI’s leg in the process!

XXXVI loses his balance. His footing slips off the top rope —

JC: Oh my! The referee just sent XXXVI flying off the top!

JR: Unbelievable! She still hasn’t touched him, but she might’ve just taken him down without even knowing it!

XXXVI crashes awkwardly to the mat, clutching his mask, dazed and disoriented from his skull colliding with the mask as he hit the mat... The crowd roars as both competitors are now down — one blinded by rage, the other literally blind but still scheming beneath that cold, iron shroud.

JC: XXXVI took a big hit there! Can he recover and maybe get that combination open before Hixx figures out she has him on the ropes? Right now, this is absolute madness!"

JR: I love it. I don’t even know what’s happening half the time — and neither do they!

JC: …Joe, YOU should know what’s happening in the match. You’re not in an iron mask.

JR: No, I mean, like globally I don’t know what’s happening. Like explain Palestine to me.

JC: …Maybe later.

Hixx’s ears perk as she hears the crash of XXXVI’s fall nearby. Her head jerks toward the noise, nostrils flaring beneath the iron plating. She starts pawing forward, sweeping her massive arms in wide arcs. Each step makes the ring creak under her power.

XXXVI, slow to recover, peels himself off the mat like a man meditating through pain. He senses Hixx’s presence through the vibrations — the faintest shuffle of boots closing in.

JC: XXXVI is as still as a church mouse… as Hixx tries to hunt him down like a minesweeper!

Hixx’s heavy foot plants near XXVI’s head.

Without hesitation, XXXVI snaps upright, raising his head — CLANG! — a vicious headbutt straight down onto Hixx’s foot!

JC: Oh my goodness! A headbutt — to the foot!

JR: Incredible! He can’t see a thing, but he’s weaponizing the mask itself! That’s some straight-up kung fu strategy — using pain as a signal! If Frank Mir even fought in the Octagon while wearing an iron mask, that’s exactly the sort of shit he’d do!

Hixx howls, clutching her foot and hopping on the other leg — the whole ring bouncing from her movement.

XXXVI listens for the rhythm of her steps — the uneven thud-thud, thud-thud — and charges forward! His shoulder connects hard into the side of her leg, chopblocking her to the mat!

JC: He found her leg by sound! XXXVI, while completely blind, is pulling an incredible sequence of moves to take Hixx down!

JR: He’s fighting by feel and frequency! Like that famous blind guy… Stevie Wonder![/white]

Hixx groans, clutching her knee in pain as XXXVI crawls forward, trying to orient himself. He plants his hands, re-centers his breathing, and then dives forward—— going for Third Eye Bind (Romero Special)!

But — Hixx hits the mat, ducking down! XXXVI goes over!

JC: Oh! Hixx dove out of the way! Is she detecting XXXVI now?

JR: I think she just ducked cuz she was tired of getting knocked down!

Instead of locking in the submission, XXXVI crashes face-first into the ropes and bounces awkwardly back.

As XXXVI rebounds off the ropes, Hixx, half on instinct, half on fury, shoves off the mat… throws her arms forward. Her hands somehow snag XXXVI by the waist.

JC: HOLY COW! Hixx got him!

With a guttural roar, Hixx heaves him upward in a display of raw, monstrous strength — then launches him backward with a…

HELLACIOUS FALLAWAY SLAM!

JC: Are you kidding me?! She couldn’t even see him, but she just threw him halfway across the ring!

JR: Hixx could get the three… if she hadn’t just launched her opponent where she can’t find him!

XXXVI crashes to the mat with a thud, rolling toward the ropes as the crowd explodes in disbelief…. The throw again launches his skull against the inside of his own ironmask… He falls back quasi-conscious against the mat…

Hixx falls to her knees, palming the mat, desperately trying to feel her way to her opponent to secure a three-count… The official slowly dizzily shoves himself off the mat, stumbling back towards the fight..

Straight into Hixx’s grip! Hixx takes down the official by the ankle, forcing him against his shoulders for a three-count!

JC: No! For the second time in a row, Hixx accidentally attacks the official, trying to find XXXVI!

JR: I’d say someone should put a bell on that guy, but I think that’d only make it more likely for Hixx to hear and then attack him!

As Hixx barks at the ref to count the pin on… the ref… XXXVI breathes hard, head swimming. His hands shakily rise to the combination lock on his mask. He feels out the cool, hard metal — his gloved fingers twitching over the dials. Slowly, carefully, he turns them.

JC: XXXVI has a moment to work with the combination and free himself from that iron mask that looks like his own mask!

JR: How’s he supposed to get himself freed? It’s a four digit number code! He could have hours and not figure out th-

Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.

0… 0… 3… 6.

The lock snaps open. The mask loosens.

JR: …Oh. The combo on the iron mask that looks like XXXVI’s mask is… 36.

JC: …You okay, Joe?

JR: Huh? Oh no, I’m fine. That’s just… That’s so smart, it comes back around to being stupid.

JC: Either way! He’s done it! XXXVI’s cracked the code!p

XXXVI’s breathing steadies. He feels the weight of the mask loosen, air rushing cool and free…. XXXVI lifts the heavy iron contraption off his head…

Just as a thunderous smack echoes through the arena.

Latoya Hixx, still blinded and furious, has released the official, after he finished explaining he’s not her opponent… Hixx slaps her chest and stomps the mat, psyching herself up.

[whiteJC: Oh no, Hixx is still in it — and she’s winding up for something big!

JR: "She doesn’t even know where he is, she’s running on pure adrenaline!

With a scream, Hixx charges across the ring — all power, no precision — and launches her leg high into the air!

…XXXVI lowers the mask back onto his head!

JC: What the HELL? XXXVI has OPTED to re-blind himself!

BICYCLE KICK!

…XXXVI LEANS INTO THE KICK!

JC: What?!?

WHAM! Hixx’s boot connects flush with XXXVI’s face — but the crowd gasps as the metallic CLANG rings out through the arena!

JR: Oh my GOD — he turned the mask into a weapon! Her foot hit solid steel! That’s so Frank Mir!

JC: Joe, I just got a text message from Frank Mir and he said stop mentioning him, he wouldn’t do any of what you’re saying.

Hixx howls, hopping backward, cradling her leg in agony. The impact reverberates off her shin like she just kicked a cannonball.

XXXVI tosses off the mask… and sees his vulnerable opponent. He seizes the opening — snaring her skull, twisting them into the THIRD EYE BLIND!

JC: He’s got her! He’s got her locked in!

JR: That’s that Romero Special! He’s got her dead to rights, center of the ring!

Latoya slams her fists into the mat, screaming, but she can’t reach the ropes — can’t see them, can’t find them. Her strength begins to fade under the strain.

XXXVI wrenches back one last time…

…

AND LATOYA PASSES OUT!

WINNER: XXXVI

JC: XXXVI WINS IT! XXXVI has survived the Iron Mask Match!

JR: What a performance! He beat her using the very tool meant to blind him — he used the mask as part of his strategy! That’s next-level awareness, Jacuinde!

JC: Folks, this next match… ooooooh, it’s gonna get intense!

JR: That’s putting it mildly, Jacuinde! This one may no longer be for the X-Treme title, but it’s certain to get X-TREEEEEEEEEME!

Centurion
- vs -
Atara Raven
Yapapi Indian Strap Match

We open to a grimy, tiled room with a bathtub filled with stagnant water and a foul-smelling toilet.

Three bodies lie on the floor, 2 connected by a long leather strap on either side of the room. The third, lies still in a pool of blood.

The man rises first with a groan, putting a hand to his head and pushing back his hair with a groan.

JC: It appears Centurion is the first to wake up!

BG: The veteran wrestler is probably used to waking up early from hangovers, today is just a usual Sunday for him!

Centurion looks around the room and tugs at the strap attached to his wrist, rousing the delicate body of Atara Raven who jolts awake at the pull. She scowls at Cent before rubbing her temple getting up to a knee.

BG: And Atty has decided to join us from her beauty sleep.

JC: And I suppose the third body in the room is our referee for this evening.

As Centurion and Raven get to their feet, the third body does not move at all.

BG: Was our referee, Jackie. Looks like our competitors are on their own for getting out of this puzzle.

After a brief staredown; Centurion’s eyes flick to the strap and he wraps the leather around his wrist and pulls back with both hands to drop Atara onto her front and The Champ sprints over the fallen referee and to Atty’s prone body, using the strap to create a hoop and hooking it over Raven’s neck and wrenching back with a boot placed against her back.

BG: Centurion trying to waste no time here! He wants to get the dub and get the hell out of Jigsaw’s lair!

Atara’s feet fail to find purchase on the tiles as the strap tightens around her throat.

Centurion reels back and lifts Atara up a little.

Which Raven uses to her advantage, throwing her legs forward and getting to her feet throwing her head back into Centurion! The champ loses his grip as he falls back and Raven spins around with an elbow to Centurion’s jaw knocking away into the wall and Raven in a fury lines up a straight punch!

JC: THE PRIAPUS PUNCH!

A ruthless groin shot doubles over Centurion and Atara quickly follows up with a knee to the face before grabbing Centurion by the collar and belt and hurling him into the nearby bathtub.

Centurion splashes into the tub and flails as Atara pushes him down under.

BG: This match has certainly shown a more ruthless side from each competitor!

JC: Gold is on the line, Brody. These two want glory and to get out of this hellhole at any cost.

Centurion’s arms fall under the water as Raven lifts an eyebrow and briefly relaxes her grasp.

Only to be struck by a backscratcher as Cent’s arm bursts from the tub!

JC: Man, Cent would have been a great X-Treme champion! Great use of improvised weaponry there!

Centurion sits up gasping for air as he looks at his belt before escaping the tub.

Atara stumbles dazed, dabbing the blood from her eyebrow.

Centurion charges Atty with the back-scratcher and knocks her to the ground with a nasty shot to the skull, kendo-stick style. Cent breathes deeply for a moment, spitting on the ground before tossing the bathing implement aside before forcing Atara up to her feet and lifting her onto his shoulders.

JC: THOUSAND MILE SLAM!

Centurion looks for his signature!

BG: COUNTERED!!!

Atty slips out gracefully wrapping Cent in the strap; it hooking around his right arm and neck as Atara leans forward forcing Cent into her back as he chokes the life out of the champ!

JC: Insane maneuver from Atara Raven! She has Centurion trapped!

Cent tries to push himself forward but Raven has the leverage as Centurion slips on the wet tiles.

His face turns a bright red as he can’t struggle free.

Raven’s arms shake, countering Cent’s weight.

Until Centurion puts a foot against the wall to the side of them and pushes with all his might! Both competitors fall to the ground, Atara winded as Cent’s weight falls on her.

Both groan as they hit the tiles but Atara quickly scrambles to her feet as Centurion gets to a knee; Raven lets off a side kick but Centurion ducks under the blow and stands up, grabbing the leather and whipping Raven’s stomach. The strike echoed through the tiny room with a horrendous sound.

An open palm finds Raven’s jaw and stands her up straight as Centurion flicks the strap and hurls a loop over Atara’s body.

Raven throws her body forward catching Cent with a forearm but the champ fires back with a chop across Atty’s sternum; Raven backs off briefly as Centurion motions the strap some more.

Raven shakes the sting of pain away and seethes in anger, she rushes and jumps up looking for a knee strike but Centurion was prepared! Rug pulling Atara with the leather strap and hooking Raven’s leg forcing her to the ground!

The wind leaves Atara’s lungs as she lands on her back with a mighty thud!

Cent pulls back on the leather tightening the reins on Atara as grabs her ankles and locks in-

JC: FALL OF ROME!!!!

Atara wails in agony locked in the hold, the leather constraining her movement.

Centurion pulls back with all his strength, forcing screams of pain out of Raven!

Atara fights back as much as she can…

To no avail!

And finally she taps!

A bell sounds and Centurion falls forward in exhaustion.

WINNER - CENTURION!

JC: Centurion gets the win!

BG: With some effort! But… Who called for the bell!?

Centurion pants on the ground, raising an arm in victory; behind him a grotesque noise sounds. The body in the center of the room comes slowly to life but only the upper half as the legs stay static.

Centurion looks on in horror as the torso stands.

BG: OH MY GOD! ZOMBIE!!! And one of them gross one wheres it just the upper half!

The now awakened corpse wipes the blood from its face as it steps away.

JC: That’s no zombie! THAT’S BIG DICK LICHTER!

Lichter steps to the steel door blocking the room and pulls out a key opening it and turning to Centurion.

BIG DICK: I told Atara to demonstrate Anarchy’s superiority… Since she failed…

He steps outside the room as Centurion stares in disbelief.

BIG DICK: How about you both stay here and think about not pissing me off again.

Before Centurion can react, the door slams shut and the room goes dark.

JC: Folks, this next match is going to be a doozy!

JR: I like the word ‘doozy’. I was going to call it a ‘harrowing experience where two men are faced with the sins of the past and must reckon with the journey behind them before they can proceed ahead’...

JC: …

JR: …’doozy’, though. That’s good, too.

As "Vengeance" by Power Glove begins to play over the PA system, spotlights begin to shine all over the arena of a 'D'. After a moment, Big D walks onto the entrance ramp. He puts his arms in the air, before heading down the aisle, focused on the ring.

JC: Big D looked absolutely DOMINANT at the Relentless Opening Night Battle Royal! He lead the match in eliminations, I think, scoring three, tossing out Mini Morbid, Reggie Estrada, and working with Clutch Cassidy to co-eliminate Liam Roberts!

JR: He was the sharpest he’s looked, maybe in his whole career! And that’s with a former XWF World championship run on his resume! AND he’s one of the winningest TV champs ever… But, can Big D take out one of the most dominant Television champions we’ve ever seen?

He then walks up the steel steps and climbs into the ring, before walking over to a corner, climbing to the second rope, and putting his arms in the air once again. After that, he hops down and waits.

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

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

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?
Can I trust you without failing you?
Gonna tell you what the secret is...
You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

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

JC: And there he is! Dickie Watson! He found a way to put down the WOLF that is Sarah Wolf to win this belt… and he fended off the Tactilizing One, Larry Tact, in an absolute barn-burner! Dickie Watson is ascending the mountain that is the XWF, one level at a time!

JR: Dickie’s been killing it, no doubt, Jacuinde! But, Big D is a challenge all his own! He’s unpredictable, he’s got decades in the biz… and he can hit that Dan Slam from about a thousand different spots, in and around the ring! The moment you think you’ve got Big D contained, that’s when he’s the most dangerous!

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

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

…

As our two opponents face off… the rusty loudspeaker echoes again…

”D… Watson… you both have competed for decades… leaving in your path victims that never recovered from facing you… or legends who have made their names off defeating you… Today, you face your pasts… And the victor shall be the man who can face the road behind him… and not blink.”

As Jigsaw concludes his twisted benediction, from down the ramp enter… shambling figures… wearing masks…

Some wear masks of Robert ‘Omega’ Main… Barney Green… Noah Jackson… Donovan Blackwater… Ned Kaye… and BoB members! While others wear Sarah Wolf masks… Sebastian Everett-Bryce masks… Dolly Waters masks… and some masks simply feature the logos for Fight! NYC and Project: Honor!

JC: Clearly some mindgames here… the ring surrounded by men designed to remind both these competitors of their pasts…

JR: And the winner is going to be the guy who remembers the one face that matters is the face they’ve gotta punch through… their opponent’s face, I mean.

JC: No, I got that, thanks, Joe.

15:00

14:59

14:58

As time ticks down on the wall, we see the lumberjacks all menacing and ready to beat the hell out of either competitors…

In the early going, Dickie and Big D tease one another to toss outside to the ‘jacks, then suddenly Dickie gets thrown outside…

JC: Oh dear! Dickie is the first to be thrown to the wolves!

JR: Literally! I don’t know if that’s actually Sarah Wolf, but she’s coming at him like she’s hungry like the wolf!

The moment Watson hits the outside, a woman in a Sarah Wolf mask SWINGS down on him with a steel pipe… Watson narrowly sidesteps as a loud CLANG echoes from the pipe hitting the floor…

Watson drives his shoulder into the faux Wolf’s gut, sending her backwards… Just as the man in the Project: Honor mask catches him with…

A BARBED-WIRE-ASSISTED PUNCH TO THE JAW!

JC: Oh my God! Dickie Watson said Project: Honor was a blood tithe, it looks like the lumberjack representing Project: Honor has come to collect some from Watson’s face!

Watson gets driven back against the apron… and slides under the bottom rope back inside… just as three lumberjacks all dive to try and stop him…

But once he’s back in the ring, he rolls… straight into a STOMP from Big D!

JC: My oh my! There’s nowhere for Watson to go here! He’s got a legion of angry lumberjacks outside the ring! And Big D INSIDE it!

JR: Forget 15 minutes… Dickie’s gonna lucky if he can survive another 15 seconds the way everyone’s coming at him!

Big D goes to snag Dickie up to his feet for a high-impact slam… but Dickie manages to bat Big D away with various punches and kicks… Big D tanks the first few, going for a lariat! But Dickie ducks under, then he beams him to the ropes… and connects with a Dropkick, dropping D onto his back!

JC: That’s what makes Dickie a champ! He will never stop fighting, he refuses to be beat while he’s still breathing!

JR: But it looks like he has other things on his mind than his opponent…

That Sarah Wolf proxy has given up waiting for Dickie, reaching under the ropes to try and drag him under herself… Dickie steps back outside the range of her arms and stares her down…

JC: …That isn’t *actually* Sarah Wolf right?

JR: She and Dickie waged an absolute war at Relentless… I think if anyone were to accept being Jigsaw’s pawn just to stab Dickie in the kidney, it might be Sarah… but also, Sarah hates working with other people.

12:31

12:30

12:29

…As Dickie stares down ‘Wolf’, Big D slowly starts to rise off the mat… Dickie finally focuses back on the fight… he goes for a side-headlock, but Big D elbows him, switches around him and
…BACK RAKE! Dickie’s face twists in agony, as his hands lift to defend… and that’s when Big D wraps his arms around Dickie’s undefended waist, going for a…

GERMAN SUPLEX!

HE CONNECTS!

JC: What a move by Big D! Absolutely devastating!

JR: And it doesn’t look like he’s done yet, Jacuinde!

Indeed, D maintains his waist lock as he forces himself back up, dragging Dickie to his feet…

He heaves again… SECOND GERMAN SUPLEX!

JC: Dickie looks vulnerable here! If D makes it a triple, Watson will be in prime position to get DAN-SLAMMED!

…D cranks his neck confidently, as he hoists Dickie with his great strength up to his feet again…

…But as D brings Dickie up, Watson clings onto D’s neck as a reflex! And then forces his weight downward!

SNAPMARE! D goes up and over Dickie’s shoulder!

JC: Amazing survival instinct by the Television champion there! He lives to keep fighting!

11:15

11:14

11:13

As D shakes off that surprising throw, Dickie backs into the ropes, looking for another running dropki-

NO! That same ‘Wolf’ lumberjack reaches under the bottom rope and snags Watson by the ankle!

JC: What the HELL is going on with that Sarah Wolf lumberjack!?!

Watson stumbles forward… just as D lifts himself to his feet… And catches Watson in a…

MILITARY PRESS position! D lifts Watson up over his head!

JC: Oh no! That is no man’s land for Dickie! He’s in prime position to get tossed to those lumberjacks like chum into the mouths of hungry piranhas!

Big D holds Watson over his head… smiling confidently, as he goes to charge toward the ropes, ready to huck Dickie…

But Dickie’s hand drops down and scratches D across the eyes!

JC: Questionable move by Watson!

JR: Questionable move? I think you mean, SURVIVAL! Dickie knows what’s at stake if he gets thrown back into those lumberjacks!

D stumbles forward, his hands reflexively cover his face… Watson drops down to his feet behind D… and he shoves D over the top rope! Into the lumberjacks!

D tumbles onto his feet outside…

Where a “Miss Fury” lumberjack…

KERACK! Whips D in the back!

JC: Oh my! Some of Big D’s allies from his stint as B.o.B. D are coming right at him!

‘Fury’ reels back her whip again… but D boots her in the stomach, he turns back to the ring…

But not before a “Thunder Knuckles” lumberjack staples BLOODY X-Bux onto D’s back!

D’s face snarls… but he manages to fight through the pain to get back under the bottom rope!

9:48

9:47

9:46

D charges at Watson… who catches his forward momentum, trapping him in an INSIDE CRADLE!

1!

2!

THR-BIG D KICKS OUT!

THR—-KICKOUT BY BIG D!

JC: Big D’s not finished yet! Not by a long shot!

JR: But remember, Jacuinde! It’s Dickie’s job to withstand the onslaught, D not only has to withstand Dickie’s attacks… he also has to get the win before the time runs out!

As D tries to fight his way back to his feet, Dickie leaps onto him! D collapses back onto his back as Dickie delivers mounted punches, each one sapping the will to go on from D…

…Until D judo throws Dickie up and over… Dickie forward-rolls, almost out of the ring… but he puts on the brakes, just as the “Fight NYC” lumberjack swings a steel folding chair through the ropes narrowly missing Watson!

D backs up into the ropes himself… SNAP! Where the “TK” lumberjack is waiting to staple more bloody money to his back!

JC: Maybe a little metaphor here… D turned his back on his fans to join BoB and that TK lumberjack is giving him his thirty pieces of silver!

JR: Where in the Bible did Judas get given his money via staple gun?

JC: …I didn’t claim it was a *perfect metaphor*...

D’s face is seared in agony… but he reaches up and STUN GUNS the “TK” lumberjack’s throat acros the top rope… the “TK” lumberjack tumbles backwards off the apron, toppling over the lumberjacks underneath him…

But not before D grabs the staple gun out of “TK”’s hand!

JC: Oh my! Business is picking up here! D has a weapon!

Watson narrowly avoids another chair shot from the Fight! NYC lumberjack, before extending a boot through the ropes and kicking him in the face!

Watson turns around… straight into D’s staple gun which catches Watson between the eyes!

JC: Oh my god! That should be a DQ!

JR: Sorry, do you think Jigsaw is going to be strictly enforcing the rules tonight?

Watson covers his brow… his mouth agape in horror… as D catches him around the throat…

Lifts him into the air…

CHOKESLAM!

D collapses forward onto Dickie!

1…

2…

THRE-KICKOUT BY DICKIE!

JC: How was that not enough?!? I was 100% sure we had a new Television champion there!

JR: D pulled off a crazy sequence to pull an advantage over Watson… he’s got the momentum, but does he have time to convert it into a win?

7:24

7:23

7:22

As Dickie slowly scoops himself off the mat, D tries to weigh him down back to the mat with a chinlock, dropping his weight down on Watson’s back… but the smaller man, through grit, maintains his footing!

JC: Dickie Watson is a master of body control! He knows exactly how his opponent is trying to use his body’s natural levers against him and he knows exactly what to do to counteract it!

D grunts, frustrated before clubbing his forearm against Watson’s back, shoving him to the ropes… Watson starts jogging to the ropes… then, puts on the brakes, before he comes anywhere near those bloodthirsty lumberjacks!

JC: Watson learning here! Those ropes are, for all intents and purposes, OFF-LIMITS in this match!

Watson turns around… where D is aiming to decapitate the TV champ with a…

ROARING ELBOW!

…But Watson ducks under, catching D by the neck as he floats by and catches him with a…

NECKBREAKER!

JC: Incredible counter by Watson!

Watson exhaustedly rolls over, stretching an arm over D’s chest…

ONE!

TWO!

THR-NO! D kicks out!

6:05

6:04

6:03

Dickie cranks his neck from the mat, determined to finish this one… As D slowly peels himself back to his feet, Dickie scoops his arm under D’s chest looking for a…

DICKIE’S REVENGE!

…

But D slips out the side, getting Watson from behind… and SHOVING Dickie through the ropes and to the outside…

JC: D buying himself some time to recover, forcing Dickie to mix it up with those lumberjacks again!

JR: It’s a riskier strategy than you might think, Jacuinde! Are those lumberjacks gonna leave enough of Dickie when they’re done with him for D to pin?

Watson hits the floor ready to swing, immediately catching “Wolf” with a spinning back fist and “Glazkov” with a knee lift under the chin! Wolf creates enough space where he can scamper onto the apron, almost back in the ring…

T-T-TACTILIZER FROM THE “LARRY TACT” LUMBERJACK! Watson gets scooped off the apron into a spinebuster slam onto the padded concrete outside the ring!

JC: Absolutely Tactilizing!

Watson cradles his spine… his body looks broken! As “Tact” scoops him by the scruff of the neck and rolls him under the bottom rope…

Inside the ring, D’s chest heaves exhaustedly… He crawls across the mat.. Eventually hooking Watson’s leg!

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NOOOOOOOOOO! DICKIE SURVIVES![/white]

JC: How in the HELL did Dickie Watson kick out of that one!

JR: At this point, ya gotta ask, what is it gonna take to keep Dickie Watson down… Except a DAN SLAM!

4:16

4:15

4:14

After a few seconds, both men slowly rise back to their feet, looking like they’ve been through Hell… before they both charge in, throwing heavy slug tested punches to one another!

HAYMAKER FROM D!

SPINKICK FROM DICKIE!

FASTBALL PUNCH FROM D!

BACKFIST FROM DICKIE!

…

OUCH! BIG D PUNTS DICKIE BETWEEN THE LEGS!

Dickie drops down to his knees…

JC: Dirty strike by D! You can tell just how badly D wants this one to end, he just hit Dickie in the… well, the D!

JR: You also could have said hit Dickie in the di-

JC: BUT I DIDN’T.

D grabs Dickie by the arm and snatches him… slowly rotating Dickie for a…

BIG D DROP (Unprettier!)

…But Dickie shoves his way out, shoving D forward into the ropes…

Where “Miss Fury” is waiting with her whip on the apron!

JC: Aren’t lumberjacks supposed to stay outside the ring and toss people back in? These ones are DESPERATE to be part of the action!

“Fury” reels back her whip again…

But D charges forward!

SHOULDERBLOCKING ‘FURY’ INTO THE FRONT ROW! STRAIGHT INTO THE CROWD!

JC: Wow! If someone from the NFL is watching, D might just get asked to try-out with that explosive tackle there!

D slowly turns around… where Dickie’s waiting! Watson pulls D, lifting him into the air for a…

DICKIE’S REVENGE!

…

But again, D spins out to the side, catching Dickie from behind…

D scoops Dickie up, spinning him around in mid-air!

DAN SLAM!

…

CONNECTS! Watson sprawls forward beside the ropes!

JC: HE DID IT! HE DID IT! D HIT THE DAN SLAM! WE COULD HAVE A NEW TELEVISION CHAMPION!

…D lies on his back exhausted, breathing a sigh of relief… He holds up three fingers to the crowd, indicating he’s about to become a three-time TV champion, as he lounges confidently backward onto Watson!

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Somehow! Someway! Watson forces his boot onto the ropes!

JC: HOW?!?

JR: You already said it, Jacuinde! As long as there’s breath in his body, Dickie will NEVER STOP FIGHTING!

2:21

2:20

2:19

D looks at the mat, absolutely despondent, trying to figure out how Dickie survived the Dan Slam…

[Image: confused-what.gif]

…Until he shakes his head, ready to correct that error… dragging Dickie by his foot away from the ropes!

JC: Dickie needed the ropes to survive that first Dan Slam! D doing what he needs to do to eliminate the ropes from the equation!

D scoops Dickie off his feet… into position… lifting him for a…

DAN SLAM!

…

…But Dickie spins in mid-air, latching his arms around D’s neck!

DDT!

D’s skull rebounds off the mat, he’s sitting up, questionably conscious! As Dickie lifts D off the mat…

DICKIE’S REVENGE!

JC: DICKIE’S REVENGE! CENTER OF THE RING!

When Dickie hits the move, he lies forward onto D, like that move was the very last thing his body could do…

The official counts!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

WINNER AND STILL TELEVISION CHAMPION: DICKIE WATSON

JC: What a WAR! What an absolute slugfest from start to finish! Big D came inches! Millimeters even! From becoming a three-time TV champion!

JR: But Watson ascends! The climb up the mountain continues! And you have to wonder… who the HELL could possibly knock Dickie off the mountain!

JC: This has been a helluva night on Spooky Savage thus far and we’ve still got the Captain’s Match to look forward to!

JR: Gotta say, this show’s been pretty tight so far, bro. I’m glad the powers that be offered me….

Just then, from out of nowhere…..

MADISON DYSON’S THEME HITS!

JR: Who’s this brosef?!

JC: It’s…it’s….MADISON DYSON?! We haven’t heard from her in months ever since she lost the XTreme Championship! She wasn’t even around to see her newfound friend Dolly Waters become Universal Champion! But here she is tonight folks!

The theme music keeps playing….

….and playing….

….and playing….

JR: Uhhhhhh, I don’t see anybody.

JC: Yeah, this is unusual.

And then, the music suddenly shuts off with an accompanying screech of feedback from the speakers as the arena is plunged into darkness.

JR: Ahhhhhhhh!

JC: Yeah, you’re gonna have to get used to this Joe it happens a lot.

And with that, a new song starts up, this one considerably more strange and haunting than Madison’s.

As the unsettling tune sets in it draws disconcerting looks from the audience members. And then, a brilliant white spotlight shines up into the rafters! And, bathed in the light, is a sight to behold! Three figures stand on a white dias suspended above the ring. One of them is KRISTOFFER ARROYO. The other is another familiar face, although not THAT familiar. It’s MADISON DYSON! She’s on her knees, head shaved bald, and wearing a vacant, haunted look in her eyes. She’s completely devoid of an expression. Around her neck is a black leather spiked collar, and tethered to that is a leash which is presently in the hand of one SAMAEL DYSON.

Samael Dyson is by far the most strangely dressed of the bunch, although it would be a stretch to call him dressed considering he’s just wearing jack boots and a white barely there thong that’s hugging his prodigious package snugly in place. Strapped to his back are two massive angel wings outfitted with flame throwers, and as the dias starts to lower the flame throwers spew gouts of flame into the air!

This pageantry continues until the dias touches down in the center of the ring. Samael kicks his mother off the dias and she falls ass over tea kettle off of it. The lights then come back on and….

JR: GAHHHH!

JC: HOLY HELL!

When the lights cut back on, the arena and the announce position are completely surrounded by smelly vagrants wearing paper bags over their heads! Each sack head has hastily cut eye and mouth holes, the only vestige of a face these eerie hangers on seem to have.

JR: Dude, where the hell did they come from?

JC: I….I don’t know! This is surely one of the most bizarre displays we’ve seen in quite some time.

Back in the ring, Samael brings a mic to his lips as one of the paper bag masked vagrants starts to dislodge the fire spewing wings from his back. But as he does so, one of the wings tips down into his face and spews flame all over him! The masked vagrant starts to scream, his head an abrupt roaring inferno. Samael looks pissed! He kicks the masked vagrant to the mat and starts stomping brutally on his skull to put out the flames, but by the time he’s done it’s clear the vagrant’s head is a crispy critter. Two more vagrants skitter up behind Samael and finish removing his wings as Samael points disdainfully at the dead one.

REMOVE THIS!

Two more of the vagrants roll into the ring and hastily drag the corpse out and to the floor, leaving a bloody smear in their wake. Arroyo seems to look on with some amusement while Madison just cringes at the end of her leash like a whipped dog.

Samael brings the mic to his mouth again and starts to speak.

Salutations gentle beings! My name is SAMAEL DYSON! And, now, maybe my reputation precedes me. Maybe you’ve heard some things about me. Like maybe from that poster child for fetal alcohol syndrome DOLLY WATERS, or from that turbo dyke LUX, or even from….

Samael leans in face to face with Madison and screams at her.

….MY STUPID CUNT MOTHER WHO ABANDONED ME!

Samael straightens back up. Madison is still completely devoid of expression.

But I implore you….please forget everything you’ve heard. For it rings FALSELY! I’m not some monster here to destroy the XWF, I’m not some tired cult cliche like The Left Hand of the Black Rainbow! Nooooooooo! You see I…..

….am here….

…..TO FUCK!

Samael tosses his arms jubiliantly in the air. I’m here to fuck, baby! I’m here to have some fun….to liven this place up a bit! To add some ZEST….some SPICE….to a product that, let’s face it, got a little dull under the tutelage of one THAD PUKE.

That’s all I’m here for baby. And with my good friend Kristoffer Arroyo by my side, and my legions of INSIGNIFICANTS….

Samael gestures to the masked people surrounding the ring.

….I dare say we’re gonna have a good time!

Now that’s not to say we don’t have ambitions! Everybody’s got ambitions right? Which brings me, quite naturally, to my first order of business.

WHORE GAMES!

Kristoffer makes a face and leans in to whisper in Samael’s ear.

WAR GAMES! That’s what I said the first time. Anyway, War Games is just around the corner and my man Kris here is repping the family as only he knows how. But the question is, with six captains taking the field, which one does Kristoffer want to play with?

Samael looks like he’s going to hand the mic over to Kris, but then he suddenly yanks it away. Kris looks a little chuffed but keeps it to himself.

I’ll tell you who Kristoffer wants to represent…as if there is any other fucking choice! It’s KING KIERAN OF COURSE!

The fans respond with a resounding chorus of boos. Samael looks taken aback by the reaction, and he brings the mic up to his face so close he’s practically chewing on it.

FUCK YOU YOU MIDDLING LITTLE PRATS! I’LL FUCK YOUR MOTHERS! AND IF YOUR DADS TRY TO INTERFERE I’LL FUCK THEM TOO!

Samael is suddenly trembling with rage. Kris steps in and whispers something to Samael again, and Samael slaps the mic into his chest, relinquishing it with simmering anger. He turns his attention to the kneeling Madison, and viciously yanks on her leash, causing her to face plant into the canvas.

Kristoffer, looking demure as ever, doesn’t seem bothered by the crowd response or his master’s ire. He smirks, revealing the bottoms of his glistening fangs.

Samael is quite right! My designs are clear. I want the Universal Champion, Kieran King, to be my captain. And Samael was equally correct when he said that there was just no other viable choice. I mean, when royalty is on the table, why pick anything less?

And to prove my fealty to the King, in mere days I will launch a preemptive strike against one of his rival captains in Betsy Granger. The match we’re in may be a bit of a gag, but the EVISCERATION I hand out surely won’t be.

Samael leans into the mic.

Although Betsy if after Kris is done with you, you need a shoulder to cry on, or a face to sit on (hint! hint!) I’m available!

Samael backs off with a shit eating grin and he goes to the edge of the ring to jaw with some fans in the front row as Kristoffer continues.

Now you might be wondering “what if Kieran foolishly passes on you Kristoffer, who’s second place?” And well, that might surprise you.

Jennie Nickles.

Hello, Jennie. While you’re no King, you’re a queen in scarlet, are you not? Heh. I think with your….erm….”extracurriculars” we could get along swimmingly. And if you’re offended by me making you second place, why not prove me wrong if you get the chance?

As for who’s dead last….I don’t cotton to geriatrics or charity cases, so Scoops McGee can piss right off as far as I’m concerned. Scoops, if in a moment of dementia fueled addlement you decide to draft me, rest assured I’ll destroy your team from the inside out. I’d rather lose War Games then have to rub shoulders with a man who smells of piss and redneck desperation.

And that about sums it up, ladies and gentlemen. Sam?

Kris summons Sam out of his trash talking and hands the mic back to him.

That does indeed sum it up! Thanks for listening. Now anybody whose up for a bout of sucky fucky, the line starts at my dressing room door. See you soon you fucking degenerates!

Sam drops the mic as “In Heaven” from Eraserhead hits again. A gaggle of Samael’s bag headed Insignificants scramble to ringside where they crouch down and array themselves into a human stepladder. Samael tugs fiercely on Madison’s leash, prompting her to follow him, and the trio leave the ring via the human stepladder and head towards the back.

JC: And now, we head into our MAIN EVENT of the evening!

JR: This match is going to be CRAZY! Am I reading this right? All 6 War Games Captains are going to be chained up inside of a giant tub, and some psycho with a hacksaw is going to decide who gets out alive?!

JC: That’s close Joe, but not quite right! ‘Psycho’ Solomon is actually one of the Captains here tonight, and he’s joined in that ring- er, tub- by Betsy Granger, Scoops McGee, Jennie Nickles, Isaiah AND Kieran Kings! This main-event match is star-studded to the X-TREME!

JR: And the winner walks away with their preferred draft order! And the losers, well….they might not be walking out at all- at least, not if our ‘special referee’ gets his way!

JC: And speak of the devil!

The Nickleman steps into Jigsaw’s Lair as his music is blared across the hidden compound. He’s wearing a striped referee’s shirt, with the sleeves ruggedly cut off. He wears a devious grin upon his lips as he clutches the handle of a rusty hacksaw. Charlie walks up to the scene of the action, and he doesn’t even try to contain his smirk as he sets eyes upon the ‘Killer Tub’.

The Killer Tub is a twelve-foot-tall pit of rot and pain, an old busted-up swimming pool turned into a concrete nightmare. The walls are slick with grime, the air stinks of rust and mold, and the puddle water at the bottom looks more like sewage than anything fit for humans. Chains are bolted to the floor, six sets in total, ready to clamp down on the War Games Captains. On each side stands a shaky, rusty ladder that’s already on the verge of breaking. The lights above flicker and buzz, throwing the place into half-darkness. This isn’t a wrestling ring. It’s a punishment chamber, and The Nickleman feels right at home as he hops into it!

JR: You know, I had this dude on my podcast one time.

JC: Really?! And how’d that go, Joe?

JR: Worst. Guest. Ever.

JC: But maybe he’ll prove to be a better referee!

JR: Did he pledge to remain impartial and unbiased throughout this contest?

JC: Actually….he pledged the EXACT OPPOSITE!

JR: He would never be allowed to referee in the UFC!

JC: But this is the XWF, Joe: and on Spooky Savage, anything goes!

The lights dim as Jennie Nickles’ theme music plays throughout Jigsaw’s antiquated PA system. “The Scarlet Verdict” walks out of a dark tunnel and into the room with the Killer Tub. She walks up to the edge of the pool, then looks down into the grimey tub with a slightly grimace- that quickly shifts into a smirk. Jennie climbs down the shaky ladder before being greeted with a big hug from her brother- and a pair of shackles from her referee. Jennie and Charlie share a knowing nod as The Nickleman places the chains around Jenny’s ankles.

JC: Jennie Nickles is walking into this match on a hot streak! And I mean HOT- like the XXX kind! She deflowered Elon Musk’s AI wrestlebot, but that’s the LEAST of her crimes against humanity!

JR: Well, Grok wasn’t really a human-

JC: And that’s what The Scarlet Verdict says about all her countless victims! Remember, Joe: Jennie has a natural advantage in this match! She is a convicted serial slaughterer, so I’m sure this isn’t her first rodeo with hacksaws and chains. And not to mention: HER BROTHER is tonight’s referee!

JR: Imagine being drafted to a team led by a convicted serial killer. If you don’t listen to Captain Jennie’s orders: she might just gut you!

“Psycho” Solomon Kline walks out from a different tunnel, an unhinged twinge to his eye as he glances towards the hard cam. The 6’6” behemoth of a man walks up to the edge of the Killer Tub, a sick and twisted smirk staying plastered to his lips. Solomon looks over at the rusty ladders lining either far wall, and he shakes his head with disdain. Then, he simply leaps into the center of the pool, landing directly in the middle like a grand anime villain! Once Solomon rises, The Nickleman daps him up before begrudgingly shackling his ankles with chains.

JR: You know, they call this guy a “Psycho”, but I’m not sure I see it. He looks more like an NFL linebacker than a crazy guy! What’s so “Psycho” about him, anyways?

JC: Are you serious, Joe? Did you not watch Solomon’s last vignette? This whacko literally thinks Jigsaw is REAL, and that Jigsaw is sending him a “secret” message. And do you know why he thinks that, Joe?

JR: Why does he think Jigsaw is sending him messages?

JC: Because Solomon’s mother was killed in a bathtub! Murdered by some sicko who’s never been caught!

JR: Oh my God, that’s horrible!

JC: And now, Solomon thinks Jigsaw is giving him a mission! So, this Psycho said he’s going to assemble the perfect War Games team….just so that he can track down the man who murdered his mother and get revenge!

JR: Solomon really is sick in the head!

JC: And to make matters worse tonight…he’s got the referee in his back pocket- just like Jennie does!

JR: I guess the sickos and the freaks really do flock together!

The commentary team 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 Killer Tub, culminating as the drums kick in. As they do, the steadfast figure of Scoops McGee comes out from yet another dark tunnel, a look of no nonsense etched onto his face as he takes a long look down into the pool.

He nods, steadily climbing the ladder down into the pool and absentmindedly skulking over to a pair of shackles, waiting patiently for Charlie to strap them on.

JC: And here comes “Captain Scoops”! AKA, Mr. McGee! A certified fan-favorite, Scoops has had a long and storied career in professional wrestling: but recently, he’s been on a whole nother’ level! In his last match, he defeated two-time Universal Champion Sebastian Everett Bryce. No tricks, nonsense: just straight-up wrasslin’! That’s the Scoops method, and it’s proving more effective than ever in today’s XWF.

JR: Scoops combines a unique blend of old-school, hardcore wrestling alongside quick and efficient striking. He’s almost like an aged mongoose, experienced and wise beyond his years, and always ready to take down a snake like only he knows how.

JC: I don’t know if Scoops would consider himself a mongoose, but he’s certainly a wild animal inside the ring…or, in this case, tub! He’s an expert with improvised wrestling weaponry, so chains and pool ladders are right up his alley.

The lights in Jigsaw’s Lair go dark. A single gold spotlight shines on a tunnel as the opening notes of King Kunta echoes through the air, and the bass kicks in.

DO YOU SEE ME NOW?

The silhouette of Isaiah King stands at the edge of the tunnel, first clenched at his sides, head bowed slightly. His championship belt is slung over his left shoulder, a king with a crown but no kingdom. He has on a black leather coat that cuts off at the top of his white wrestling boots. The long coat has a cracked crown embossed on it's back.

I've got a bone to pick!

Isaiah lifts his head, eyes longed on the Killer Tub. The gold spotlight follows his every step as he strides towards it, slow and methodical, like a predator closing in on his prey. Eventually, he pauses in front of the rusty pool ladder: shaking it a few times to test it’s sturdiness. Once content, he slides down the ladder in one smooth motion. He then walks to the center of the pool, spinning in a circle before pointing to his chest - he mouths:

"You thought I was done?"

Bringing his arms across his chest before shooting them down, he lets out a short, emphatic animalistic howl into the air-

Which abruptly ends once The Nickleman shackles his ankles to the floor. Charlie chastises Isaiah for his “illegally extravagant” entrance before collecting Isaiah’s belt and cloak…but then, Charlie just chucks all of Isaiah’s belongings out of the pool.

JC: ½ of the current tag champions, a former Universal Champion, AND the reigning winning War Games Captain: the smart money might be on Isaiah King to pick up a big victory inside this tub. He’s looking to go back-to-back with winning War Games teams, and that all starts right here tonight.

JR: Wait….wasn’t tonight’s referee part of Isaiah’s winning team?

JC: That’s right, Joe! Isaiah King actually DRAFTED Charlie last year, and if you ask me, Isaiah carried Nickles all the way across the finish line for the first time in Charlie’s career!

JR: So Isaiah King might have an advantage here tonight, because it sounds like Charlie owes him one!

JC: I wouldn’t count on that, Joe! ‘Loyalty’ isn’t a word in Charlie’s vocabulary- unless it’s loyalty to him.

JR: But aren’t Charlie and Isaiah both members of the XWF’s 4 Corners?

JC: The difference here is that Isaiah is an honorable, noble, stand-up kind of guy….and tonight’s referee simply isn’t.

JR: Well if there’s one person who knows how to work through adversity, it’s Isaiah King! And it sounds like you’re telling me that he’s got a whole lotta’ adversity surrounding him in that Tub right now.

&list=RDqmKvBLmg2ZU

As the opening notes begin, the lights go out, save for a single spotlight focused on yet another tunnel. Betsy comes out, but she’s only a silhouette at this point. Just as the drum strikes it’s second note, Betsy dabs and the lights come back. The song starts from the refrain as Betsy starts dancing down the ramp.

“Sin City’s cold and empty
No one’s around to judge me
I can’t see clearly when your gone-one-one”

Arms out, Betsy begins twirling around wildly, blonde ponytail whipping about with her. The chorus hits just as Betsy slides down the shaky ladder and into the Killer Tub.

“And I said ooooh, I’m blinded by the lights
I can’t sleep until I feel your touch
And I said ooooh, I’m drowning in the night
Oh, when I’m like this, you’re the one I trust”

As the chorus chimes on, Betsy bounces up and down, pumping her fist and bobbing her head in time with the song, getting herself amped up for the upcoming bout. She starts bouncing in place, preparing mentally for the bout as The Nickleman silently shackles her feet to the floor.

JC: It’s The Impossible Traveler herself, Betsy Granger! She’s known not just around the world, but around the GALAXY for her incredible feats of strength, wit, and athleticism! She has felled Giants, conquered tyrants, and entertained fans across every plane of existence!

JR: On the last edition of XWF Anarchy, Betsy Granger took Kieran King to his ultimate limit. If Kieran hadn’t pulled out every last dirty trick in the book, then Betsy Granger may well have beaten him! But we can’t change the past…although, technically, I do believe that Betsy Granger has changed the past once or twice- so is Kieran’s win over her really safe?

JC: Well we are going to find out tonight, because Betsy has the chance to get her win over Kieran back- and get her preferred draft position right alongside it!

The first, frenetic strums of Faith No More's "Gentle Art of Making Enemies" rips through Jigsaw’s Lair as strobes of gold and white cast across the killer tub. After several moments, and then a few more for good measure, Kieran King eventually saunters onto the stage, smugly mugging for the cameras. In a flash, he sprints towards the pool and acts as if he is going to backflip off the top... only to pull out at the last minute. He laughs at the chained wrestlers below him, mocking them as he undoes his championship gold before descending the ladder into the pool.

Charlie approaches Kieran, gesturing towards the shackles. Kieran talks mad shit to The Nickleman while Charlie bends down to apply the chains to Kieran’s ankles.

JC: And here comes THE KING HIMSELF…“KING” KIERAN KING! The reigning, defending, and undisputed UNIVERSAL CHAMPION of the XWF!

JR: Kieran is a tough cookie to crack! He’s- wait- he’s being attacked by the referee!

The bell clangs through Jigsaw’s Lair as Charlie Nickles is already on top of Kieran King, pounding the Universal Champion against the slimy wall of the twelve-foot pit. The referee’s hacksaw glints under the flickering lights as he swings it like a weapon, sparks jumping from the tile where it hits.

JC: The bell’s ringing because the fight’s already started! Charlie Nickles didn’t wait for the ceremony! He’s already trying to get his revenge on Kieran King for what happened at Relentless!

JR: The referee’s supposed to keep order, but this one’s intent on keeping up the war!

The camera catches the chaos from above: six captains chained to the floor, filthy water sloshing around their boots, rusted ladders leaning like broken bones on either side. Charlie drives a knee into Kieran’s gut, pins him by the throat, and raises the hacksaw for a kill shot.

Kieran twists and shoves off the wall. The saw smashes the concrete beside his head. Isaiah King moves first from the cluster of chained captains, lunging toward the referee and yanking him backward by the shoulder. Charlie wheels around and drops Isaiah with a short, vicious elbow. His hacksaw falls, clattering through the shallow water

JC: Isaiah King just stepped into the fire!

JR: Somebody had to! Charlie’s got a weapon and bad intentions!

Kieran kicks the referee off him, dragging at the chain on his ankles. The camera swings low to catch him prying at the links while Isaiah staggers back up. Charlie quickly comes again, a madman in stripes, throwing wild shots. Kieran rolls under one, scrambles for the hacksaw, and snatches it up. He brings the blade down on the chain, it’s teeth screaming against the steel.

Charlie dives at him, but Isaiah meets him head-on: both men battling for the hacksaw in Kieran’s grasp. Charlie and Isaiah crash into the far wall as the rest of the captains try to reach the action: but it’s no use! Their chains are all mixed up along the floor, and they simply can’t reach Kieran and company!

JC: I don’t think Charlie did a very good job of setting up those chains, because half of our Captains can’t even make it to the other side of the tub!

JR: I’m starting to think that making Charlie a referee was a horrible idea!

Charlie swings his arm to shake free, but Isaiah drives a shoulder into his ribs and holds him there. Water splashes over both of them. Kieran keeps sawing, sweat mixing with the filth, sparks kicking off the floor as he drives the saw into steel.

JR: Isaiah’s inadvertently giving the champ a few precious seconds!

Kieran cuts through one shackle; it snaps and falls into the puddle as Jennie and Solomon scream for Charlie’s prompt attention. Scoops and Betsy are trying to untangle their own chains so they can reach the hacksaw, but it’s no use. As Kieran keeps cutting the second link bends, bends again, and finally splits. Kieran rips free, kicks the broken chains aside, and pushes to his feet.

Charlie finally throws Isaiah off and turns, just in time for Kieran to crack the hacksaw across his shoulder like a steel bat. The sound is sickening. The special referee drops to a knee as Kieran races for the nearest ladder- far away from the tangled quartet of Captains across the pool!

JC: Kieran’s got daylight! He’s making for the exit!

JR: And he’s given Charlie a bleeding wound on his way out!

The camera follows him from below as he climbs. Rust rains from the ladder with every pull. Charlie’s back up, clutching his bloodied shoulder, dragging the hacksaw behind him while chasing after Kieran like a demon. He grabs the bottom rung and yanks. The entire frame shakes. Kieran’s boots slip, but he keeps climbing. Isaiah lunges and grabs Charlie’s wrist, trying to get a hold of the hacksaw for himself, but as the pair tussle over the saw they slip and fall down into the water.

Kieran reaches the top as the Captains trapped on the other side of the pool scream bloody murder, hauling himself over the top of the tub and vanishing into the gloom.

KIERAN KING ESCAPES FIRST!

JC: KIERAN KING ESCAPES FIRST! The Universal Champion earns his draft advantage!

JR: He didn’t win it clean, but he won it fast! Isaiah King may have saved him without meaning to!

Charlie pushes Isaiah off of him and glares upward, blood seeping through his shirt. He spits, then turns his fury back toward the remaining captains. “He ran!” he snarls, his voice echoing inside the tub. Charlie grabs the hacksaw, spots his sister among the prisoners, and then tosses the hacksaw toward her.Then he storms up the ladder after Kieran, disappearing over the top while screaming that “This isn’t over!”.

JC: We just lost our referee!

JR: Does this mean that Charlie gets to pick 2nd at War Games?!

JC: I don’t think so, Joe! This just means that Solomon and Jennie won’t be getting anymore “referee favors” this match, because we don’t even have a referee anymore!

The camera pans back down into the pit. Five captains. One hacksaw.

The instant Charlie’s gone, everyone moves. Betsy Granger dives for the saw. Jennie Nickles meets her halfway, the sister’s eyes flashing the same fire as her brother’s. Betsy and Jennie collide in a tangle of arms and water. The hacksaw skids away toward Scoops McGee. The veteran stomps his boot down to pin it but takes a stiff shot to the jaw from Solomon Kline’s chain-wrapped fist.

JC: It’s pandemonium inside the Tub!

The camera catches Solomon towering over Scoops, ripping the chain tight around his wrist like a gauntlet. He swings again. Scoops ducks and jams his shoulder into Solomon’s ribs. The impact shakes the ladder beside them. Betsy and Jennie roll through the muck, fighting for balance.

Isaiah’s back on his feet, shaking water from his eyes. He sees the hacksaw floating just inches away, lunges, and scoops it up. Solomon turns and catches sight of it too late. Isaiah drives the blade against his own shackle, trying to free himself. The teeth screech and spark.

JC: Isaiah’s finally got the hacksaw! He’s putting it to good use here!

Jennie slaps the water, crawling toward him. Betsy dives on her back to drag her down. The camera whirls to follow Isaiah as Solomon barrels into him. The hacksaw goes spinning end over end into the air and crashes near the center of the pit.

JR: Nobody can keep that thing for more than five seconds!

Solomon tries to crush Isaiah under his knee. Isaiah shoves up with both hands, water spraying. Scoops, still half-bound, loops his chain around Solomon’s neck from behind and pulls. The big man stumbles. Betsy kicks Jennie away and reaches the saw first, bringing it up with a wild grin. She hacks at the bolt on her ankle, fast and desperate.

The camera shifts close—metal on metal, sparks in the half-dark. Jennie charges her from behind, slamming her shoulder into Betsy’s back. The hacksaw flies again, splashing down in the filth between them. Jennie reaches; Isaiah reaches; Scoops wades through the puddle to snatch it first.

JC: Scoops McGee has the hacksaw! The veteran’s finally in the mix!

Scoops braces the chain across his knee and starts cutting, the blade whining. Solomon regains footing and drags Scoops off balance with a handful of chain. The hacksaw clanks away once more. Isaiah tries to grab it; Solomon hits him with a short forearm that drops him.

The camera widens to show the Tub boiling with motion. Chains whip through the air like live wires. The sound is pure chaos.

Betsy crawls across the puddle, clutching her ribs, and grabs the hacksaw again. She gets one cuff off before Jennie tears it from her hands. Jennie swings the saw handle like a club into Betsy’s skull. Betsy crumples against the wall, gasping. Jennie sets the teeth to her own restraints, grinding through rust and sludge.

JR: Jennie Nickles wants out. She’s got motivation, she’s got the saw, and she’s got her brother somewhere above causing havoc!

Solomon storms over, reaching for the tool. Jennie plants a foot and kicks him off. He barely moves. He rips the hacksaw out of her grasp and stands tall, water streaming down his arms. He plants one foot on the chain anchor, bends down, and starts cutting through the bolt.

Scoops uses the distraction to loop his chain around one of the ladder rungs and pull. The bolt holding his shackles to the floor begins to bend. He yanks again. The metal shrieks. One last heave and the post pops free from the concrete!

JC: Scoops McGee just broke his anchor! He’s free without the saw!

JR: Scoops McGee is loose! The old lion’s got nothing holding him down now!

The camera catches Scoops glancing up at the ladder. It’s barely standing, crooked and wet, but it’s the only way out. Scoops starts gathering up his chain before throwing his shackles up over the rim of the tub. The camera pans to Solomon, still desperately sawing his own chain as he watches Scoop grab hold of the ladder. Isaiah stands and drives a kick into Solomon’s shoulder, causing the hacksaw to slip from Solomon’s hands. It hits the tile and skids across the water again.

Scoops starts to climb. Behind him, Solomon and Isaiah are still trading blows. Betsy crawls after him. Jennie clutches at her half-cut chain, trying to pull it apart.

JC: Scoops is going up!

JR: He’s trying to get out of there, and frankly, I don’t blame him one bit!

The ladder shudders with each step Scoops takes. Flakes of rust fall like red snow. Solomon notices and roars, wading toward him. Isaiah intercepts again, driving a knee into the big man’s stomach. Solomon barely feels it. He shoves Isaiah aside and grabs the base of Scoops’ ladder, shaking it like a tree. Scoops holds on tight, his knuckles turning white as he tries to continue his climb.

Jennie claws at her shackles with her fingernails before she yanks on her chain again, but it holds. Betsy crawls to the bottom of the ladder and tugs at Scoops’ leg. He stomps down, catching her in the shoulder, and keeps climbing.

Solomon plants a massive hand on the ladder, but Isaiah slams into him one more time, driving both of them into the corner. The entire Tub shakes from the collision.

JC: It’s every captain for themselves! Scoops McGee is almost out!

The camera cuts to a high shot. Scoops reaches the top rung, his muscles trembling. The ladder bends under his weight but holds. He hauls himself over the rim of the tub, vanishing into the darkness above.

SCOOPS ESCAPES SECOND

JR: SCOOPS MCGEE ESCAPES! The veteran did it! Second out of the Tub!

JC: That’s two gone—Kieran King and Scoops McGee—and four still chained in hell!

JR: And somewhere up above, Charlie Nickles is still chasing ghosts and grudges!

Four captains remain in the filth of the pool. The hacksaw lies between them like bait as their chains drag along the floor.

Betsy is first to move. She dives for the hacksaw and hooks it close with her forearm. Jennie splashes after her and throws a forearm into the shoulder to knock it loose. The blade kicks out of Betsy’s hands and skates along the tile toward Isaiah. He snatches it, sets the teeth to the bolt at his ankle, and starts grinding. Sparks spit under the yellow light. Solomon stalks across the pool with purpose and crushes Isaiah with a spear that drives both of them into the wall!

The hacksaw bursts free and skids back across the center like a skipped stone.

The camera tracks the saw as Jennie slides in on both knees and clamps it. She works fast, cutting low, using her knee as a brace. The first cuff gives with a harsh pop. She flips to the second. But Betsy is there and rips Jennie backward by the waist to break the angle. The saw slips. Jennie keeps a grip with one hand while she clubs at Betsy with the other. Solomon arrives and wraps an arm across both of them, hauling them off the tool. Isaiah crawls over their legs and scoops it for himself again.

JC: It is a tug of war with teeth. Whoever keeps that blade for more than two seconds is going to change the match.

JR: And the Tub is not giving anyone clean footing. Every step is a slippery trap! This is just like UFC 109! If you know, you know!

Isaiah plants the blade to the metal again and pushes hard. The camera tightens for the torture of it. Steel shrieks and the bolt begins to warp- until Solomon kicks the hacksaw aside. Isaiah keeps the handle in his fingers, stretches, and drags it back. Jennie dives for his knuckles. Betsy rugby tackles both and the saw flies out of the pile. It lands near the foot of the ladder and stops just short of the rung like it knows better than to climb.

Then the picture jumps. Upstairs. The catwalk shakes. Kieran King slips through frame like a shadow and quickly vanishes. Charlie Nickles appears right behind him, a streak of blood at his lip and fury in his eyes. “You can run, but you can’t hide!”

JR: Charlie is still hunting the champion. He will not let Relentless go!

JC: The Corporation wanted Charlie as Referee so he could help them cheat the match, but instead, he’s been too busy chasing the past! He’s just leaving his sister and his accomplice to fend for themselves down there!

Back in the Tub, Betsy makes the play no one expects. She ignores the hacksaw for a beat and climbs onto Solomon’s back like a climber finding a ledge. She snakes her chain around his throat for leverage and uses the strap to yank him off balance. He staggers, catches himself, and whips her off with a brutal twist.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Jennie scoots low and gets the hacksaw again. She is halfway through the last cuff when Betsy slides in, low and mean, and scythes Jennie’s legs. The saw clacks off the tile and settles near Isaiah’s boots. Isaiah brings it up fast. He is about to finish the cut when the camera suddenly blurs with motion.

JC: OH MY GOD!

Charlie has dropped in from above, right atop Isaiah King!

His body lands heavy, splashing water to all 4 Corners of the Killer Tub. The impact rattles the ladders and sends a tremor through the concrete. His face is covered in a fresh crimson mask as he lies lifeless in the middle of the pool, limbs splayed like a marionette with cut strings.

Just above the rim of the Killer Tub, a shadowy King flashes a smile before slipping back into the darkness.

JC: Oh my God, Kieran King just threw Charlie Nickles from the catwalk into the Tub!

JR: That is pure power. The Universal Champion just turned the referee into wreckage!

The referee does not move for a long moment. The four captains stare down at him, unsure if the match even continues. Then Charlie twitches and slowly rolls to his side, coughing up water and blood. His eyes open wide and wild, searching for the hacksaw. He looks at it, then at Isaiah King, who is struggling to get up. With the heel of his boot, Charlie kicks the saw toward Jennie. A slow, deliberate motion, a brother’s will overriding pain.

JC: The special referee is back in the Tub and he is not hiding the bias. He just handed his sister a lifeline!

JR: He is bleeding from the face and still finding ways to cheat for his sister. Now that’s what family is all about!

Jennie clutches the hacksaw, shaking but determined. She sets it to her final chain. The blade grinds fast and rough. Sparks spit through the filth. She is close, two pulls from freedom, when Solomon’s shadow falls across her.

Charlie screams for Kline to stop, but he’s too weak to stand up and stop him- so Solomon grabs Jennie by her hair, dragging her up before throwing her across the ring! Solomon reaches down to grab the hacksaw, but Jennie doesn’t stay down for long! Instead, she comes back and wraps the chains around Solomon’s throat, pulling both members of The Corporation down into the mucky water!

JC: The Corporation is falling apart right now! If they’d work together, they could both exit the tub, but instead, they’re fighting like crabs in a bucket!

Betsy sees the moment and bolts for the hacksaw, eyes wide and desperate. While Jennie’s trying to choke the life out of Solomon, Betsy is trying to cut through her chains with the steel teeth. When the saw clicks through its last bite of metal Betsy finally stands tall, wild and free.

Isaiah staggers, still half bound, trying to follow.The camera follows Betsy as she charges towards the ladder. Charlie reaches out and nearly catches her ankle, but Betsy is too quick! She hopscotches right over and out of his grasp! The Impossible Traveler begins to make the climb!

JC: Betsy Granger is making her break.

JR: She is not hesitating for a second. She wants that third slot!

Betsy climbs. The ladder bends under her but holds. One last pull and she is gone over the rim, disappearing into shadow.

BETSY GRANGER ESCAPES THIRD

JR: Betsy Granger escapes, the third captain out.

JC: The Tub belongs to the Corporation now, with one King still trapped inside!

Only Jennie, Isaiah, and Solomon remain. Charlie stands bloody between them, reaching out and grabbing hold of his hacksaw once more.

Isaiah steadies himself, fists up. The referee stares at him with disdain, and Isaiah stares back at the glint of the hacksaw. Isaiah charges forward but Charlie swings first, smashing Isaiah in the jaw, but Isaiah answers with a gut shot that folds him over. Another to the ribs. A hook sends the special ref stumbling into the wall.

The hacksaw is loose again, half submerged in muck. Solomon and Jennie both race towards it at the same time, each jockeying the other for position. Across the pool, Isaiah and Charlie trade haymakers with each other: but only until the champion gets advantage. A strong right hook sends Charlie reeling against the wall, but Isaiah King doesn’t let him fall: instead, Isaiah grabs Charlie by the neck before executing a picture perfect spinning impaler DDT!

JC: THE KING’S DECREE!

JR: ARE YOU ALLOWED TO DO THAT TO THE REFEREE?!

Jennie and Solomon brawl right atop the hacksaw, each trying to get control of it. But when Isaiah rises out of the water, he sees his chance. Isaiah King steps over Charlie’s limp body before grabbing Solomon and Jennie each by the ear. Then, he smashes their heads into each other at full force! Both Solomon and Jennie collapse as Isaiah grabs hold of the hacksaw and begins sawing through his chains.

JC: THAT’S CONCUSSION CENTRAL FOR THE CORPORATION!

JR: All the time that Solomon and Jennie spent fighting over the hacksaw, they could’ve spent freeing themselves if they were working together!

JC: There’s no loyalty or camaraderie inside The Corporation, Joe! This is a tell-tale sign!

Isaiah grins when his chains finally break. He throws the hacksaw across the ring before sprinting over towards the nearest ladder, pulling himself up and over the tub of the rim with incredible swiftness!

ISAIAH KING ESCAPES FOURTH!

JR: Isaiah King escapes. He is the fourth out of the Tub.

JC: That leaves the Corporation alone, Jennie and Solomon, to finish this thing.

Jennie and Solomon slowly rise through the murky water. Their eyes lock in the dim yellow light, and the Tub seems to shrink around them. The air is thick with rust, sweat, and betrayal. Charlie drags himself upright along the wall, face streaked with red and filth, one eye nearly swollen shut.

The special referee looks between his Corporate Associates. For a moment, it feels like even he doesn’t know what’s coming next.

Then, Charlie kicks the hacksaw across the water toward his sister.

“Finish it.” he says, voice raw and low.

JR: There’s no pretending now. Charlie Nickles is giving orders!

JC: That’s his sister, that’s his Corporation. And he’s made his choice right in front of Solomon Kline.

Solomon freezes. His jaw tightens.

Jennie kneels, shaking, and grabs the hacksaw. The blade is dull, teeth bent and dirty, but she presses it against her shackle anyway. The screech of steel on steel echoes through the pit.

Solomon’s voice breaks the tension. “You picked wrong.”

Charlie doesn’t respond. He only tilts his head slightly, as if daring Solomon to make the first move.

That’s when “Psycho” Solomon’s face twists. He grabs at the chain around his ankle and yanks once, twice, three times. The bolts holding it to the concrete begin to crack. He roars through gritted teeth and rips the anchor completely out of the floor. The Tub shakes with the sheer force of it!

JC: Solomon Kline is tearing his restraints out of the floor!

JR: That is raw power and pure rage, partner. The man is unchained in every sense of the word!

Jennie rips the saw upward one last time. The final bolt snaps, and the sound rings like a gunshot in the hollow chamber.

Jennie is free.

But so is Solomon!

Jennie scrambles for the ladder closest to her. Solomon storms to the other. They both start climbing, water cascading off their bodies, the Tub echoing with the groan of rusted steel. Charlie stumbles after Solomon, climbing up the ladder behind him, trying to grab hold of Kline’s legs to slow him down.

JC: The Corporation is tearing itself apart! Jennie Nickles on one side, Psycho Solomon on the other!

JR: Only one of them is getting out, and those ladders look ready to give way!

Jennie climbs fast, every rung moaning under her weight. But Solomon hauls himself upward with raw strength, his massive hands gripping the metal, bending it with every pull even as Charlie tries to drag him down.

Jennie’s hand finds the top rung. Solomon’s does too.

For one heartbeat, they climb in unison.

But then a sharp metallic crack cuts through the air like thunder.

Kline’s ladder splits down the center. The entire frame folding beneath the combined weight of Solomon and Charlie, giving way all at once. The pair drop like a stone, crashing into the water below as the rusty ladder collapses on top of them.

Jennie pulls herself over the rim. Her hands dig into the concrete as her knees scrape the lip of the pool.

The bell tolls.

JENNIE NICKLES ESCAPES FIFTH

JR: Jennie Nickles escapes. The fifth captain out of the Killer Tub! This hellacious match is finally over, and our War Games draft order is set!

JC: I don’t know if I’d call what we just saw a match… or even competition… that was TORTURE! We saw six captains enter the killer tub… And honestly, I’m less concerned with the order and more thankful they all survived!

”HOLD IT! HOLD IT!”

The Trillionaires storm through the curtain… Elon leading the charge toward the ring, Bezos and Zuck behind him.

”JENNIE NICKLES!”

Off to the side of the killer tub, Jennie Nickles sits up, looking physically exhausted, but otherwise disinterested by this small, shrieking emerald mine nepobaby…

”As your BOSSES… We have CHARGES to lay against you!”

Elon shoves the microphone into Zuck’s chest… as he pulls out a little print out.

”Sup, J-honey. Uh…” Zuck unfurls his print-out…

”You stand accused of…

Workplace violence for trying to strangle Warfare General Manger, Peter Principle…

The destruction of company property for… beheading Grok…

Portraying the company in a bad light, vis a vis, protests against the company because of you… Lawsuits against the company…”

JC: That one feels like it’s more on the XWF than Jennie! Their security is the one that attacked those protesting fans, not Jennie!

JR: They also sign our paychecks, Jacuinde…

JC: …*gulp*

Zuck continues reading charges…

”Refusing to apologize, and instead doubling down when we graciously gave you the opportunity to own your mistakes…

Insulted the entire WarGames draft class…

And you comm-”

Elon snatches the microphone. ”AND YOU CLAIMED MY GROK-Y-POO WITH YOUR BODY, YOU… YOU WITCH! YOU TEMPTRESS!!”

Bezos grabs Elon by the arm, trying to pull him back as Zuck takes the microphone… ”HOMEWRECKER!” Elon declares before being brought back…

”Okay, what my homey Easy E meant to say was… production of a lewd, not TV airable segment suitable for all ages…”

“And generally challenging our authority as your employers.”

Zuck folds up his print-out and steps back… Bezos steps forward… as Elon quietly stews in the background…

”What’s funny to ME, Miss Nickles, is… you’re acting like you’re holding all the cards.”

“Let me remind you that… the MOMENT we fire you… you’re going back to prison. To serve your FULL sentence. Do you think you’re getting a day off for good behavior after what the WORLD saw you do in that ring? They’ll lock you up and throw away the key.”

…

”That said… we will not be ending your employment at this point.”

The crowd offers a mixture of cheers and boos!

”But a punishment is still in order…”

“You, Jennie Nickles… are hereby STRIPPED of your title as WarGames Captain!”

JC: Oh my! Jennie just fought like hell to escape that Killer Tub… Now she doesn’t even get the Captain role that comes with it…

”You are being transitioned from Captain… to Draftee… and I will warn all captains… whoever drafts Jennie Nickles… she will be entering the match FIRST!”

The crowd gets louder, both the angry ones and the delighted ones, though in reverse configuration from the mixed cheers and boos before… as Jennie rolls her eyes, fighting her way up to her feet…

Elon steps up and takes the microphone from Bezos.

”Now, you may be wondering… if Jennie’s not a captain… who will be? Well…” Elon smiles. ”Fortunately… there are some people who know the value of working with management…”

Jennie peers confused up the ramp…

As a figure approaches her from behind…

JC: Jennie! Watch out!

JR: The killer is being hunted! …And she’s got something in her hands!

Jennie turns aro-

WHAM!

Jennie gets decked in the skull by…

ROXY COTTON!

JC: Vinnie Lane’s wife! Vinnie got bamboozled by the Trillionaires into selling his shares! Why the hell is she aligned with them!

Jennie’s back thuds against the concrete… as Roxy lifts up what she just hit Jennie with…

THE GROK’S DISEMBODIED HEAD!

JC: Oh my GOD! So… So, whatever team drafts Jennie, she goes first…

JR: Roxy Cotton just got upgraded to Captain…

JC: And all the XWF Titles are still on the line at WarGames! IN the WarGames match!

JR: It’s gonna get absolutely nuts, Jacuinde!

SPECIAL THANKS TO...

MATCH WRITERS
Peter Principle
John Black
Gator
Charlie Nickles

SEGMENT WRITERS
Dickie Watson
Kieran King
Kristoffer ‘Vamp’ Arroyo
The Trillionaires

AND EVERYONE WHO RP'D!

]]>

10 - 20 - 2025

LIVE FROM JIGSAW’S LAIR

Ace Sky
- vs -
El Landerson
Scaffold Match

Latoya Hixx
- vs -
XXXVI
Iron Mask Match

IN THE SKYBOX LOOKING DOWN AT JIGSAW’S LAIR

Ace Sky
- vs -
El Landerson
Scaffold Match

WINNER: ACE SKY!

LATOYA HIXX
- vs -
XXXVI
Iron Mask Match

WINNER: XXXVI

JC: Folks, this next match… ooooooh, it’s gonna get intense!

JR: That’s putting it mildly, Jacuinde! This one may no longer be for the X-Treme title, but it’s certain to get X-TREEEEEEEEEME!

Centurion
- vs -
Atara Raven
Yapapi Indian Strap Match

WINNER - CENTURION!

15:00

14:59

14:58

12:31

12:30

12:29

11:15

11:14

11:13

9:48

9:47

9:46

7:24

7:23

7:22

6:05

6:04

6:03

4:16

4:15

4:14

2:21

2:20

2:19

D looks at the mat, absolutely despondent, trying to figure out how Dickie survived the Dan Slam…

[Image: confused-what.gif]

WINNER AND STILL TELEVISION CHAMPION: DICKIE WATSON

&list=RDqmKvBLmg2ZU

KIERAN KING ESCAPES FIRST!

SCOOPS ESCAPES SECOND

BETSY GRANGER ESCAPES THIRD

ISAIAH KING ESCAPES FOURTH!

JENNIE NICKLES ESCAPES FIFTH

SPECIAL THANKS TO...

MATCH WRITERS
Peter Principle
John Black
Gator
Charlie Nickles

SEGMENT WRITERS
Dickie Watson
Kieran King
Kristoffer ‘Vamp’ Arroyo
The Trillionaires

AND EVERYONE WHO RP'D!

]]> <![CDATA[WARFARE - October 6th, 2025]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49361 Mon, 06 Oct 2025 21:27:45 -0700 Peter Principle]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49361

October - 6 - 2025

LIVE FROM FROST BANK CENTER

SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

Betsy Granger
- vs -
Latoya Hixx
Singles

Barney Green
- vs -
“Psycho” Solomon
X-Treme Rules

Jennie Nickles
- vs -
Dwayne “The Grok” Johnson
Singles

Tatiana Jolee
- vs -
Amber Mansley
Singles

Atara Raven
- vs -
John Black
Ladder Match

Scoops McGee
- vs -
Sebastian Everett-Bryce
Texas Death Match
In order to win, a competitor must first pin their opponent and then ensure they fail to respond to a 10-count to win.

JC: Folks, it’s our first match of the night, and this one features one of the most exciting returns we’ve had in years! An XWF staple is making their way back home!

BG: And they came a long way to get here, Jacko!

As the opening notes begin, the lights go out, save for a single spotlight on the top of the stage. Betsy comes out, but she’s only a silhouette at this point. Just as the drum strikes it’s second note, Betsy dabs and the lights come back. The song starts from the refrain as Betsy starts dancing down the ramp.

“Sin City’s cold and empty
No one’s around to judge me
I can’t see clearly when you’re gone-one-one”

Arms out, Betsy begins twirling around wildly, blonde ponytail whipping about with her, as she slaps hands with fans on both sides of the ramp.

JC: What an absolutely shocking way to kick off the first show after Relentless! The Impossible Traveler has returned to the XWF, folks! Betsy Granger — a long-time fan-favorite returns from across the multiverse, back to prove she still belongs among the elite!

BG: You mean she left space to come here? What’s wrong with her GPS?

JC: You can’t keep an adventurer grounded forever, Brody.

BG: Fair enough — but she’s steppin’ back into orbit against a woman who isn’t known for being gentle on re-entry! The one-woman hurricane, the Storm herself, Latoya Hixx!

“And I said ooooh, I’m blinded by the lights
I can’t sleep until I feel your touch
And I said ooooh, I’m drowning in the night
Oh, when I’m like this, you’re the one I trust”

…Wait, as Betsy circles the ring… Latoya Hixx is charging down the ramp!

JC: Whoa! Whoa! It looks like Latoya isn’t waiting for Betsy’s entrance to wrap up to get a piece of her!

Betsy goes to roll under the bottom rope… But Latoya catches up with her, giving her a forearm smash in the skull!

BG: Oh my! This one didn’t get to the ring before it popped off!

The official bends through the ropes, ordering both competitors into the ring…

But Latoya instead irish whips Betsy into…

THE RINGSIDE steel steps! Betsy rebounds spine-first off the steel… cradling her back…

Latoya pounds her chest, screaming… STOOOOOOOOOORM!

She suddenly charges at Betsy…

But Betsy leaps from the pole to the barricade! Latoya’s boots awkwardly clatters off the pole!

As Betsy springs into a MOONSAULT off the barricade! Taking Latoya off her feet!

JC: Wow! Aerial ballet! Betsy hasn’t lost a step!

…Betsy wraps her hands around Latoya’s skull, trying to shove her under the ropes to start the match…

But Latoya catches Betsy in the ribs with an elbow! Betsy doubles over!

And Latoya follows it up with a closed-fist shot to the skull, driving Betsy up the ramp!

The two woman grab each other by the skull and start swinging, backing up the ramp…

And behind the curtain!

JC: …Wow! Are… Are those two gonna have a match tonight?

BG: Sometimes you can’t wait for things like a ring bell and a referee! Sometimes you just gotta throw hands!

JC: Well, this match never officially started but… we’ll keep you posted as to what happened as things progress!

JC: Folks, there’s a lot of narratives! There’s a lot of energy coming straight out of Relentless weekend, funneled directly into this GRUDGE MATCH!

"Dethrone" by Bad Omens plays throughout the arena. The lights go out. Once the beat drops, a spotlight shines on the entryway, where Solomon Kline appears inside the light, clad in a black hoodie over his ring gear and kneeling on his right knee.

JC: Folks, I don’t think anyone entered and exited Relentless weekend with a bigger turn-around in their morals and values than ‘Psycho’ Solomon! He betrayed his long-time mentor, XWF Legend Blizzard! He SOLD his SOUL to the Corporation!

BG: And he won the biggest match of his career thus far, defending our territory as a member of Team XWF! Run your match all you want, Jacko! But ol’ ‘Psycho’ Solomon went from being trapped under Aidan Collins’ thumb to being a megastar! With the Corporation’s backing, imagine how high this kid will soar!

JC: I can’t deny his talent! He found a way to dig deep and neutralize one of the most talented competitors in PWV HISTORY, Amber Bane-Ryan, with an insane Vertebreaker off the ramp! I have no disrespect for Kline as a competitor, but his recent choices are despicable!

As the lyrics come in, he stands, removes his hood and surveys the crowd as sparks rain down around him. He grooves his way down the ramp, and high fives fans along the way, rocking out to the song, letting out a primal scream, "Here am I, take me to the pearly gates, so I can look you in the eye when I spit in your face!"

‘Psycho’ rolls under the bottom rope, walking to his corner, getting set for action…

…

"Realize" By AC/DC starts to play as the fans immediately jump to their feet with cheer. Out walks Barney Green, dressed in his classic ring gear. He slowly walks out and waves at the fans. He walks down to the ring and enters it. He waits in the corner as his music fades, but the crowd’s standing ovation never stops.

JC: XWF Legend! THE GREEN MACHINE! Barney Green! He’s one of the most X-treme, most Hardcore, and most Beloved wrestlers to ever pass through our federation! And at Relentless weekend, he specifically returned after a lengthy hiatus, solely to check a box off his bucket list! A once-in-a-lifetime DREAM MATCH between two legends: Barney Green and BLIZZARD!

BG: Green got the match! And, shockingly, he pulled off the upset against one of the best to ever run the ropes of the XWF ring! But critics can’t help but wonder if Green got the victory thanks to Kline softening up Blizz with that sudden post-match attack two days before!

JC: It certainly puts a damper on Barney’s redemption story! But Barney could completely silence those critics and prove himself the Living Legend he declares himself to be with a victory over ‘Psycho’ Solomon…

BG: OR! Kline beats TWO so-called Legends on back-to-back shows… And cements his status as a LEGEND KILLER!

The two men don’t meet in the center of the ring… There’s no friendliness, no pre-match banter…

Green is holding onto the ropes behind him with his hands, revving his engine like a car ready to take off at the checkered flag… Meanwhile, ‘Psycho’ is still in his corner, looking at the crowd… showing total disrespect to his opponent by not even facing him…

JC: Oooooh, it seems Kline doesn’t even want to pay Barney Green, The LIVING LEGEND, the respect of facing him…

The official is barking at ‘Psycho’ to turn ar-

…WAIT A SECOND! Barney’s jumpin’ the gun and charging at Kline!

And Kline has no idea!

STINGER SPLASH! Kline is FLATTENED against the turnbuckle!

JC: Never turn your back on Barney Green!

BG: That’s unsportsmanlike!

JC: It’s X-Treme Rules, Brody!

The official shrugs and rings the bell!

Barney Green
- vs -
’Psycho’ Solomon
X-Treme Rules

Kline goes down from Barney’s pre-bell attack, leaning against the bottom turnbuckle!

Barney plods out of the corner… Jogging backwards into the opposite corner!

JC: The Green Machine is looking like a freight train out here! And Kline’s lookin’ like he doesn’t have the fuel to get himself off the tracks!

Barney breaks into a run! Looking for a…

HIP SMASH ATTACK!

…

But Kline pulls himself under the bottom rope and down to the floor on his feet! Green puts on the brakes, stopping before he hits the corner…

BG: Wise move by ‘Psycho’ Solomon, rolling under the bottom rope to the outside!

JC: Something he might’ve learned from a veteran like Blizzard… y’know, before Kline *betrayed* him!

BG: He learned everything Blizz had to teach him already, Jacko!

Kline catches his breath on the outside, jaw-jacking with the fans in the front row who are barking at him to get back in the ring!

…SNATCH! Suddenly, from the outside, Barney, reaching through the middle ropes from inside the ring, grabs Kline by the top of his skull and tries to drag him back inside like a demon dragging someone into Hell itself!

JC: Oh shit! Barney clearly looking to exact some retribution on Kline for Sol attacking his dream opponent days before their showdown!

Kline kicks, trying to loosen Barney’s grip… But his feet slowly leave the floor as Barney pulls him up!

JC: Dear GOD! The strength on display right now from Barney Green!

Barney manages to pull Kline up onto the apron! Barney retracts his head from the middle rope, and pulls his head over the top rope, seeking a front-facelock to suplex Kline back into the ring!

…But Kline instead wraps his mitts around Green’s head… And drops down to the floor, STUNGUNNING Green’s throat across the top rope!

The Green Machine sputters onto his back, clutching at his larynx!

JC: Underhanded tactic there by ‘Psycho’ Solomon!

BG: Jacko, YOU just told ME! X-Treme Rules! Nothing’s underhanded when everything and the kitchen sink is an option!

Green lies in the center of the ring, squeezing at his throat…

But ‘Psycho’ Solomon grabs Barney’s ankle from outside the ring, and spins him toward the turnbuckle pole, dragging him into position…

BG: I tell ya, Jacko! Since last Relentless, we’re seeing a new side of ‘Psycho’ Solomon… someone more twisted, more ruthless… More willing to do what needs to be done to secure the win!

Sol aims Barney’s legs between the poles… AND PULLS WITH ALL HE’S GOT!

WHAM! Barney’s family jewels are RAMMED into the pole! Barney sits up, as his face contorts with pain, howling in agony!

JC: Devastating maneuver there by Kline!

BG: Win or lose, I guarantee the transvestite prostitutes Barney likes to celebrate with after a match are going to need a lot of ice for Barney’s… ‘machine’ to function!

Kline doesn’t let up for a minute, instead raising the apron and reaching under the bottom rope! The crowd pops, eager to see some weaponized violence here…

And Kline retrieves…

A KENDO STICK!

JC: Oh my! There’s almost no one more dangerous in the XWF with a kendo stick than Solomon Kline!

BG: He’s a self-described Kendo Stick Specialist, Jackie boy! He knows at least 72 ways to break a man with that thing! And it’s X-Treme Rules, so all 72 of them are at his disposal tonight!

Kline rolls back under the bottom rope, as Green forces himself up to his feet, pulling himself upright by the middle turnbuckle…

Green turns around…

WHAM! Strike to the gut with the kendo stick doubles Barney over!

WHACK! A kendo stick strike straight to the skull sends Barney staggering back into the corner…

JC: This match has been all Kline thus far! How can Barney turn this momentum around?!?

Kline raises his stick, looking for a finishing strike with a strike across Green’s dome…

But Barney charges out of the corner, surprising the ‘Psycho’ with a…

SPEAR! SPEAR! SPEAR!

Barney shoulder-tackles Kline down to the mat! The kendo stick drops into the corner of the ring as Kline cradles his stomach!

BG: What the hell! How did Barney manage tah… what the?!?

JC: Barney Green has taken a LOT of shots to the skull over the years! He takes a lickin’ and the Green Machine keeps on tickin’!

Barney rises up off Kline as the crowd chants…

GREEN MACHINE! GREEN MACHINE! GREEN MACHINE!

Barney smiles his twisted smile… as he rolls to the outside. He throws up the apron reaches under the ring…

BG: Oh God… Solomon’s a ‘psycho’ but Barney Green is INSANE! Who knows what he’ll find under the ring…

Barney retrieves…

AN ECONOMY PACK OF LIGHT-TUBES! FOUR FOR THE PRICE OF ONE!

BG: OH GOD NO!

JC: Barney Green bringing among his favorite weapons to the fight… Light Tubes!

The crowd goes absolutely nuts as Barney rolls under the bottom rope… Just as Kline punches the mat, forcing his way up to his feet…

Barney pulls a light tube out of his pack… As Kline sees what’s going on…

JC: Barney has Kline right where he wants him! Unarmed while Barney has his favorite weapon in hand…

Barney rotates the light tube in his hand, feeling its weight, like a batter getting ready to hit a homerun!

Kline eyes his opponent, mentally timing when to dodge Barney’s light tube swing…

…Barney reaches into the pack again…

And pulls out a SECOND light tube!

JC: Is Barney choosing to dual-wield light tubes!?!

The crowd goes nuts as Barney holds two light tubes in his hands…

Kline’s eyes momentarily widen…

As Barney…

…

TOSSES KLINE THE OTHER LIGHT TUBE!

BG: What the hell is wrong with Barney Green?!?

Kline, almost caught off-guard, catches the flying light tube in mid-air…

As Barney rotates his own in hand, like he’s ready for a sword fight LIGHT TUBE BATTLE!

JC: Barney Green deciding to make this a little more sportsmanlike! He’s always been in this game for a challenge and he’d rather fight Kline armed than unarmed!

…Kline grins sadistically as he feels the weight of the light tube in his hands… The two slowly circle strafe around the ring, like light tube samurai, each eager for the battle to begin…

Kline dives into the center to strike first! SWIPING STRIKE ACROSS THE CHEST!

…But Barney ducks under with surprising agility!

Kline converts his sideways swing into an OVERHEAD STRIKE!

Which Barney manages to block with his own weapon!

…And both light tubes shatter in their hands! Kline’s light tube shatters to pieces while Green’s breaks in half in his hands!

The crowd goes nuts!

JC: …Oh…. Right… I got so excited for the vibes, I forgot for a second light tubes are made of glass! They’re probably the worst thing in the world to sword fight with!

BG: Barney was aura farmin’ so hard, he forgot the laws of matter and physics, like when a cartoon stands off the edge of a cliff and doesn’t fall!

Kline drops the shards of glass left in his hand, seeking to grapple Barney by the skull…

BUT BARNEY DRIVES HIS REMAINING HALF-A-LIGHT-TUBE INTO KLINE’S GUT!

Kline grabs his stomach, spinning to shield his front from future attacks…

JC: Holy shit! Barney might’ve just tried to stab Kline in the stomach with what’s left of his light tube!

Barney tosses away the light tube chunks… as he surges forward, wrapping Kline in a…

CROSSFACE CHICKENWING!

JC: OH MY GOD! BARNEY GREEN! BARNEY GREEN MIGHT PULL OFF ANOTHER UPSET! CAN YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES?!?

The crowd goes absolutely nuts as Kline’s hands surge backwards, trying to break Green’s grip… But despite Kline’s desperate thrashing, Green holds on!

BG: FIGHT OUT, ‘PSYCHO’! NOOOOO!

JC: Barney’s almost got it locked it tighter than Fort Knox! If he can get Sol off his feet…

Barney brings his head forward over Sol’s shoulder, to get additional torque and get Solomon on his back, dead center of the ring…

But ‘Sol’ manages to reach over his shoulder… And JAM his THUMB into Barney’s eyepatch!

JC: Oh GOD! Kline is trying to handle Barney’s skull like a bowling ball with how deep he’s trying to force a digit into Green’s eye socket!

Barney… Barney clings on! Still trying to fight Kline off his feet!

JC: Holy shit! How tough is Barney Green?!?

…

BUT THE PAIN IS TOO MUCH! Green eventually has tocover his brutalized eye! And Kline drops onto his knees, still gripping Barney’s head for a jawbreaker!

BG: Absolutely ruthless counter by Kline!

Green looks dazed on his feet… as Kline hits him with an…

ASHES TO ASHES! And Green drops onto his back!

The crowd turns from being in Barney’s corner to being quiet…

JC: Uh oh… I think the crowd senses this one may be nearing its end…

Kline briefly drops onto his knees, like he’s going for a cover…

…

Then, he smiles… And returns to his feet…

JC: Oh no… what is going through Kline’s head right now?!?

BG: I dunno! But it’s nothing good for Barney! They don’t call Solomon ‘Psycho’ for nothin’!

Kline walks over and grabs…

THE LAST TWO LIGHT TUBES!

JC: Oh no!

The crowd pops with a palpable mix of enthusiasm and trepidation! They don’t wanna see Barney get maimed… BUT THEY FUCKING LOVE LIGHT TUBES!

Kline sets the light tubes up, side by side about a foot apart…

And then he drags Barney by the scalp off the mat and onto his feet…

Stuffing Green’s head between his legs…

JC: …Oh no…. No no no no!

BG: Oh yes! OH YES!

Kline hoists Green up into powerbomb position… Over the light tubes!

…Aaaaaaand…

PSYCHO DRIVER ONTO THE LIGHT TUBES! (Powerbomb into Sit-Out Chokeslam!)

GLASS SHATTERS HORRIFYINGLY UNDER BARNEY’S BACK!

GREEN WRITHES IN AGONY! WHICH ONLY MAKES IT WORSE!

JC: OH GOD I’M GONNA BE SICK!

Kline drives Green’s back onto the light and hooks the leg!

The official counts!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Winner: ‘Psycho’ Solomon

BG: What a match! What an absolutely dominant victory for the Corporation! And twice in back-to-back months, Kline has KILLED an XWF Legend!

JC: …ugh… I hope this isn’t the last we’ve seen of Barney Green… In fact, we may see these two meet again in the ring at WarGames, next month! But right now, I must admit, the victory goes to ‘Psycho’ Solomon!

BACKSTAGE

A group of employees and security staff are gathered around the catering table…

When all of a sudden, Betsy Granger gets shoved through the door to the room! Everyone scatters to the walls…

Latoya bursts through the door, aiming for a knockout blow!

JC: Oh my! It looks like this fight’s still going on between Betsy Granger and Latoya Hixx!

Betsy uneasily shoves herself back to her feet… Latoya howls like a raging storm, as she charges in with a…

LARIAT!

…

But Betsy ducks under and twists out, snatching Latoya’s wrist mid-spin!

And in a blink, transitions into a spinning armwringer!

Latoya yelps, caught off guard, her arm twisted tight.

JC: Wow! Absolutely mesmerizing maneuver by Betsy Granger! It’s like she hasn’t lost a single step!

Betsy doesn’t let up — she plants a boot against Latoya’s hip, rolls backward, aaaaaaand…

MONKEY FLIP! Betsy propels Latoya in a perfect arc through the air, across the room… A SPREAD OF DIPS AND CHIPS GOES FLYING!

BG: Aww, no, c’mon, y’all! I ain’t gotten to visit catering yet!

Hixx flips over the table with different bowls of meats and cheeses, shaking out her arm, her expression a mix of anger and embarrassment. She lunges back in, looking for a…

FOREARM SMASH!

…Only to get snatched into a…

Fujiwara armbar! Betsy tries to force Latoya to the ground!

…But Latoya like an ox, bucks her head, taking Betsy off her feet… And shoving her back through another door!

JC: Folks! This fight is NOT over! And when we can get eyes on it, we’ll keep you posted as it develops!

JC: Folks, this next match… Well, it’s… Controversial, to say the very least!

BG: Don’t bury the lede, Jacko! We have protestors outside, with signs and megaphones! Some people do not want this match to happen! They claim it’s disrespectful to the families of the vic-... Well, we’re gonna get into it, folks!

JC: And we’re gonna get into it, right now!

…

DO YOU CONCEIVE OF WHAT THE GROK IS DESCRIBING?

The lights in the arena dim as the announcer's voice booms over the sound system, introducing the next wrestler. Suddenly, Grok’s Theme fills the arena, and the crowd erupts into cheers as a bright spotlight illuminates the top of the ramp.

Dwayne “The Grok” Johnson steps out into the light, dressed in a black t-shirt, sweatpants and sunglasses. Beside him, typing away at his laptop he’s carrying in his hands is Elon Musk!

JC: It’s been a while since we’ve seen The Grok in the ring!

BG: What an absolute travesty, too! The last time we saw The Grok compete, he scored a shocking victory over Enigma! One of the best competitors in this industry!

JC: …Brody! Not ONLY did Grok cheat throughout that match… Not ONLY did he have Preesh and Puddin’ assisting him with interference… it took the UNIVERSAL CHAMPION getting involved for Grok to win that match!

BG: THE MOST ELECTRIFYING MACHINE IN SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT! That victory should have propelled him to the main event with Charlie! Before Dolly swooped in and stole it right from under Grok’s nose!

JC: *sigh* well, with Elon Musk and the Trillionaires in charge, Grok’s never been in better position to make a charge for the top! …But to make it? He’s going to have to survive his opponent tonight!

Grok strolls with savoir-faire and panache down the ramp as his entourage strolls in behind him.

THE GROK SAYS

THE GROK SAYS

THE GROK SAYS

As The Grok reaches the ring, he climbs up onto the apron and poses for the crowd, raising a single arm and lifting a single eyebrow.

The Grok hops off the top turnbuckle…

…

The curtain under the X-Tron parts.

Five armed prison guards step out first, clad in full tactical gear. Four of them are armed with bean-bag guns and pepper spray… full-on riot gear. But the one at the center? Is pushing a gurney.

Strapped to it, motionless except for the slight rise and fall of her chest, is Jennie Nickles. Her wrists and ankles are bound in thick leather restraints, and a metal facemask covers her mouth. Her eyes, however, stare unblinking at the ring ahead.

JC: Jennie Nickles… though fans of true-crime may know her better as THE SCARLET VERDICT!

BG: That’s NEVER been proven, Jacko! The real killer might still be out there! As far as we know, she’s a wrongly-convicted woman wronged by the justice system she longed to serve!

JC: She confessed, Jacko! She’s maintained she DID kill those people! And now she’s here, on a prison temporary release program, sponsored by her brother, former Universal champion, Charlie Nickles! I can honestly say, I have never had less of a clue of what’s about to happen than I do right now, as we are mere moments away from Jennie Nichols’s first match in the XWF!

The gurney is rolled slowly down the ramp, the guards taking short, careful steps. A spotlight follows them the entire way. Fans lean over the barricade to get a closer look—some shouting insults, others just silent.

Halfway down, Jennie’s eyes flick toward one heckler. Her body doesn’t move, but her pupils narrow. The fan stumbles back, visibly shaken, as if she just looked through him.

At ringside, the guards lift the gurney up to the apron, then unfasten the straps one by one. Another guard steps up, pointing his weapon at her, barking orders not to move until she’s been told to! Jennie looks straight ahead…

The guard nods at the other as he finishes with the straps… and finally removes the facemask…

The guard barks orders, reminding Jennie of her prison release… Jennie shows the faintest expression, rolling her eyes. She’s already very aware, just get on with it.

…Finally, the guard lowers his weapon and barks at her to get a move on!

Nickles slides off the gurney and stands straight, her posture unnaturally calm, almost regal, as she ascends the steps to enter the ring…

The two opponents stand across from each other… The Grok doing a quick last-minute systems check as Jennie disinterestedly stares ahead… knowing that the violent dance can’t begin until the bell rings…

…

The bell rings!

Jennie Nickles
- vs -
Dwayne ‘The Grok’ Johnson
Singles

JC: And here we go! Dwayne “The Grok” Johnson versus The Scarlet Verdict herself, Jennie Nickles—what a clash of flesh and metal, Brody!

BG: I’ll tell you what, Jacko, even if Miss Nickles *is* a killer, WHICH I REMAIN UNCONVINCED OF! …We ain’t talkin’ about some criminal who got off with a smack-on-the-wrist, the Scarlet Verdict’s typical victim! We’re talking about a CYBERNETIC WRESTLER! this poor girl’s gonna get squashed flatter than a squirrel under a Tesla Cybertruck!

The Grok steps forward, each motion crisp and calculated—his posture unnervingly upright, head turning with perfect angular precision as if measuring Jennie’s every breath. His LED eyes flicker, scanning her stance.

WHO IN THE DIGITAL HELL ARE YOU?!?

Jennie, however, tilts her head. A slow smile creeps across her face. Her eyes narrow—not in fear, but in interest. Her shoulders relax, her movements languid and deliberate. She’s reading him just as he’s reading her.

JC: Interesting choice here by Nickles, coming out of the gate thoughtfully and deliberately, giving Grok time to size her up…

BG: Interesting? You mean, FOOLISH! The Grok can make millions of calculations in a second! This one’s already over!

Grok moves first— SNAP! Latching his smaller opponent into a collar-and-elbow tie-up! Jennie, feeling the tensile strength in his iron grip, frowns, as if this is a curious inconvenience!

BG: The prisoner is back inside of an iron cage, Jacko! Once the Grok has you in his mitts, there ain’ NO gettin’ out!

JC: Admittedly, Jennie, as far as my research indicates, is someone green in the ring! This may be a difficult challenge for her to overcome!

Jennie winces as her jaw clenches, her arm trembling under the Grok’s increased mechanical torque, as he converts his hold into a wristlock!

…But instead of resisting against the Grok’s opposing force…

Nickels yields! Rolling her shoulder and twisting under his arm, using his momentum to pivot behind him, into a hammerlock!

JC: Wow! Not a bad counter for a neophyte wrestler!

Grok’s animatronic face contorts with confusion, re-watching the real-time frame-by-frame to figure out how Jennie got behind him…

Until WHAM! Jennie kicks the back of his knee, sending the automaton staggering a step forward!

JC: Beautiful transition! Jennie Nickles just outmaneuvered a machine designed to calculate counters!

BG: Ctrl-Alt-Delete! Close some tabs! Reboot the system!

On the outside, Elon is rapidly tapping at keys, trying to restart Grok’s auto-counter processes…

Grok turns—his head rotates a fraction too far before snapping back into alignment…

But Jennie is already backing into the ropes, darting in with a…

FLYING FOREARM!

…SMACK! The subsequent sound is like a baseball bat hitting a metal pole!

…The Grok’s face turns a miniscule number of degrees from the force of Jennie’s strike…

While Nickles’ face contorts in pain… squeezing her knuckles, making sure she didn’t inadvertently break her hand…

JC: Possible miscalculation there by Jennie Nickles! Punching a robot in the face!

The Grok’s eyebrow raises like its on hydraulics! …Which it is!

KNOW YOUR ROLE!

As Jennie favors her hand, Grok lunges again with a…

CLOTHESLINE!

…But Nickles ducks, dropping herself back to the mat!

JC: Great dodge by Nickles!

BG: But how long until the human insect gets squashed by the automaton fly-swatter!

Grok’s boot lifts off the mat over Nickles… STOMP!

…But Jennie slides her hips to the side… And raises her backside off the mat!

She kips up!

Onto Grok’s shoulders!

KIPUP HURRICANRANA!

JC: Wow! I’ve never seen anything like that!

The Automaton is spun through the air, sent sprawling onto his metallic shoulder.

JC: Jennie Nickles is making the Grok look like yesterday’s model!

Elon frustratedly smacks the side of his laptop, as he quickly ctrl-c’s his terminal… He exhales, restarting his Grok.exe file…

Grok’s body jerks, his head twitching twice as if rebooting… as the Windows bootup sound plays out of his chest…

The side of Jennie’s smile start to droop, as if she’s getting tired of his routine…

JC: I thinK Jennie might be getting bored of outwrestling the Grok… And that doesn’t bode well if the Grok can’t kick his engine into gear!

As Grok’s systems come back online, his catchphrase subroutine kicks off…

TH-TH-THE MOST ELEC-EC-ECTRIFYING MACH-

WHAM! Jennie rushes forward, delivering a dropkick to the chest!

Grok hits the mat! Sparks literally fly from his back as he collapses!

JC: The Grok is down!

Jennie stands over her flailing, malfunctioning opponent…

Then she stomps his chest—once, twice.. five times—until his synthetic rib plating starts to bend and warp until the force of her stomping!

JC: Jennie Nickles is absolutely dismantling The Grok! This isn’t a fight anymore—it’s an experiment! Like dissecting a frog in a biology lab!

BG: This is a disturbing sight! This is a human rights violation—or robot rights, or whatever Musk signed The Grok up for!

The Grok’s eyes wildly sputter and flicker… on the outside, Elon rapidly hammers on keys on the outside, hoping one of them does something good!

Inside the ring, Jennie stops stomping… hovering over Grok’s face with a sadistic gleam in her eye…

Suddenly! Grok’s optics flicker red!

“ENGAGING EMERGENCY PROTOCOL.”

His mechanical hand shoots up, grabbing Jennie by the throat.

JC: Whoa! It looks like Grok’s equipped with some emergency subroutines, to prevent his physical destruction!

BG: …Well! Of course, Jacko! Obviously, Elon Musk would have a backup in case someone ever tries to destroy his prized robo-fighter!

…Elon glances up from his laptop, looking as surprised as everyone else Grok is suddenly defending himself… Before shrugging and shutting his laptop, content to watch this play out…

Jennie’s eyes go wide for the first time—shock, then pain. Her lips curl into a grimace as Grok rises to his feet, lifting her with one arm.

Like a trapped animal, Jennie claws at his wrist, her breath stuttering, eyes darting. Then… her eyes go calm. Cool. Calculating…

I’M ABOUT TO LAYETH THE SMACKDOWN ON YOUR FLESHY A-

She kicks her knees up, swings her legs, snaps it across, Grok’s arm…

And driving him face-first into the mat with a…

CROSS EXAMINATION! (Arm-Trap Crossface!)

JC: What a counter by Jennie Nickles! Once more, The Grok’s programming just can’t calculate her sheer brutality in the ring!

The Arm Trap Crossface cinched in tight! Grok’s hands spasm, slamming the mat, searching for escape code input. Jennie’s teeth grit, her expression pure fury…

The Grok’s arm shakes! Elon shakes his head, re-opening his laptop… As Grok’s eyes turn red again!

MUST PRESERVE GROK UNIT! MUST SUBMIT TO END SESSION!

The Grok raises his arm to subm-

…Suddenly, Jennie releases the hold!

JC: What’s going on here? Jennie had Grok beaten!

Instead, Jennie crawls onto Grok’s chest, leaning over his flickering LED eyes.

And in a flash, Jennie hooks his arms—traps him in the crucifix position. Her face is eerily calm. The audience hushes, sensing what’s coming.

Then—BANG!—an elbow smashes into the Grok’s temple.

BANG! Another.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

JC: Oh my GOD! She calls this the Nickles Family Recipe! She’s looking to actually DISMANTLE THE GROK!

Each strike more savage, more frenzied. The sound of metal cracking echoes like gunfire. Sparks shoot from Grok’s head as Jennie’s expression devolves from focus to euphoria.

JC: Oh my GOD! She’s trying to kill Grok! …I mean, you know, as much as you *can* kill a robot!

BG: That’s definitely gonna void Grok’s warranty!

The lights in Grok’s eyes short-out… his metal chassis goes completely limp…

But STILL! Jennie Nickles keeps delivering elbows! Until…

CLUNK!

Grok’s head finally pops clean off!

JC: OH JESUS CHRIST!

Grok’s cyborg skull rolls toward the corner of the ring...

…Jennie stops… Breathes hard, sweat and oil streaking her face…

Finally, she stands, plants her boot firmly on the automaton’s sparking chest, and looks dead into the camera.

…The official, horrified by what he’s witnessed, suddenly remembers its his job to count… He drops down!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

WINNER: Jennie Nickles

JC: Jennie Nickles has destroyed The Grok!

BGodman: Elon can afford another one… Though, he’s probably gonna have to start from scratch! This Grok’s been SCRAPPED!

Jennie looks down at the wreckage—expression unreadable. Before, she turns to the crowd, arms outstretched as her prison guards step in from the ramp, ready to escort her back under their supervision

JC: Well, we weren’t sure how this match would go! But after seeing her in action, we can say this! The Scarlet Verdict is here—and no one in the XWF is safe!

BG: Not even the cyborgs!

LOADING DOCKS

XWF employees are unpacking various bits of equipment from the trucks… When all of a sudden, Latoya Hixx stumbles onto the dock, shaking her head furiously… Betsy is in hot pursuit, right behind her!

Latoya, trying to catch Betsy off-guard, spins around, suddenly charging!

JC: Latoya once again trying to surprise her opponent by… doing what she always does!

BG: Jacko, the funny thing is, half the time, doing the same thing actually does catch Latoya’s opponent off-guard! It’s like throwing rock again after two rock-paper-scissors players just threw rock! It’s so crazy, sometimes it works!

Hixx is swinging for the fences with a…

CLOTHESLINE!

…

Nope! Betsy ducks!

BG: Well, shucks.

As Latoya’s arm sails by, Betsy’s ready… she swings big with a…

ROUNDHOUSE KICK!

…

But Latoya catches the leg!

JC: Oh, oh! Latoya caught the kick!

BG: HERE WE GO! SCIENCE FICTION CAN’T STOP PURE MUSCLE!

Latoya roars, spinning Betsy around, Betsy spins three-hundred-and-sixty degrees…

And Latoya scoops her off her feet!

And FLATTENS Betsy with a…

FALLAWAY SLAM!

Betsy gets launched across the dock… and into the parking garage!

Latoya hops over the metal barrier to the parking garage, eager to keep doing damage!

JC: This is getting absolutely nuts, Brody! We’re so sorry, folks, we’re trying to get a mobile camera crew to follow Betsy and Latoya, we’ll have more as this… BRAWL… goes on!

The guitar opening of “Plowed” by Sponge begins to play over the P.A system bringing attention to the stage as the lights strobe as if in sync with the tempo of the song.

Will I wake up, some dream I made up
No, I guess it's reality
What will change us, or will we mess up
Our only chance to connect with a dream

-KA-BOOM!-

The fireworks explode off the top of the tron bringing the end to the strobes as a spotlight illuminates the figure of Tatiana Jolee standing there. Dressed in her blackout ring attire with matching boots and pads - her hair is pulled up in a bun and she has a black leather jacket with the Canadian flag on the back.

Say a prayer for me
(Say a prayer for me)
Say a prayer for me

Say a prayer for me
(Say a prayer for me)
I'm buried by the sound

Of a world of human wreckage
In a world of human wreckage
In a world of human wreckage

Where I'm lost and I'm found, and I can't touch the ground
I'm plowed into the sound

Announcer: “Making her way to the ring, from Vancouver, British Columbia… TATIANA JOOOOOLEEEE!”

To see wide open with a head that's broken
Hang a life on some tragedy
Plow me under the ground that covers
The message that is the seed

With a confident expression, she heads down the ramp, walking up the ring steps and gliding across the apron. She pauses briefly to wipe her boots on the apron out of respect for all who share this ring. TJ enters through the middle ropes giving the hard camera a smirk and a little wink while removing her jacket before using the ropes in the corner to do one last mini-stretch - gathering herself for the fight ahead.

JC: And here comes the pride and joy of Canada, the one and only Tatiana Jolee!

BG: I heard a rumor that Tatiana was considering joining the Black Rainbow! She would've been their first Canadian member!

JC: But that's all in the past now, Brodie. Tonight, Jolee's not focused on 'what could have been': tonight, her focus is on beating the brakes off of Amber Mansley!

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

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

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

JC: And here comes the relative newcomer, Amber Mansley!

BG: They call her 'Mansley', but if you ask me, she is ALL WOMAN!

JC: What's that even supposed to mean, Brodie?

BG: It means that I think she's HOT STUFF, and I'm going to be first in line for all of her upcoming meet and greets!

JC: You always find new ways to disgust me.

BG: Disgust? We've got a beautiful woman fighting a Canadian moose-woman inside the ring tonight, and you're calling ME disgusting?!

JC: Let's just watch the match, Brodie.

Tatiana Jolee
- vs -
Amber Mansley
Singles

DING! DING! DING!

The two circle each other, eyes locked. Amber’s grin is sharp and teasing, the type of smirk that’s made her a viral heel. Tatiana’s face, meanwhile, is stone cold: professional, measured, but never dismissive.

After circling each other for what feels like an eternity, Amber finally pushes forward, using her height advantage to bully Tatiana into the corner, but the veteran quickly reverses the pressure, twisting under and sliding behind. A waist lock from Tatiana transitions into a standing switch from Amber, who throws an elbow back—but Tatiana ducks, catching her arm and snapping her down into a hammerlock.

Amber grimaces, trying to twist out. Tatiana cranks down on the shoulder, murmuring something inaudible, likely a taunt about Amber’s “influencer strength.” Amber snarls and rolls forward, kipping up and throwing a back elbow that catches Tatiana clean on the jaw.

Tatiana stumbles back; Amber smirks.

She flicks her hair. “Stay mad, grandma.”

The insult earns her a boot to the gut. Tatiana hooks her and delivers a snap suplex, then floats over for a quick cover!

1!

KICKOUT!!!

JC: We're off to a hot start tonight, and Jolee is looking to take advantage of this experience mismtach with the quick pin attempts!

BG: Oh yeah, woman-on-woman action is always HOT!

JC: .....

Amber’s too fresh to go down so quickly. She rolls away, rubbing her back as Tatiana stands tall, beckoning her up with that veteran confidence that grates on Amber like nails on glass. Amber lunges forward with a spinning back fist, but Tatiana ducks under and grabs her wrist, rolling through into a cross-armbreaker! The submission queen wastes no time cranking back on the elbow joint. Amber screams, her feet kicking wildly.

Amber tries grabbing the ropes, but they're too far.

Amber tries shifting her hips to escape, but Tatiana adjusts with expert control!

JC: Once again, Tatiana is showing everyone why she's considered the best mat technician in the game!

Finally, Amber manages to roll her body into Tatiana, stacking her shoulders- and incidentally pinning Jolee! The referee drops down to make the count!

1!

2!!

Tatiana releases the hold!

JC: Amber Mansley showed some great ring IQ there, using the submission against Tatiana to try and score the quick pin!

BG: Beauty and brains?! Amber is the total package!

Both scramble to their feet. Amber swings a roundhouse kick—Tatiana ducks again and fires a European uppercut to the jaw. Another. Then a third. Amber staggers into the corner. Tatiana charges, hitting a running forearm smash!

Amber slumps, dazed. Tatiana hooks her by the head and ascends to the middle rope for a superplex attempt—

—but Amber blocks it! She throws short punches into Tatiana’s ribs, then slips down under, grabbing her legs and yanking. Tatiana hits the top turnbuckle face-first and stumbles back right into Amber’s waiting arms for a German suplex!

Tatiana lands hard, rolls through, and clutches her neck. Amber grins again, brushing imaginary dust from her shoulder. She cartwheels into a standing moonsault, landing flush across Tatiana’s ribs for a cover.

1!

2!!

KICKOUT!!!

Amber sits up, glaring at the referee, then flips her hair and waves dismissively. “Ugh, can’t you count faster?” The crowd boos; but Amber just soaks it in, strutting around Tatiana’s downed body before stomping on her back, then on her shoulder.

BG: My girl Amber is taking complete and total control of this match!

JC: Jolee isn't out of it yet, but you're right Brodie, so far this match has been dominated by Amber!

“Cancelled!” Amber announces mockingly before locking in a camel clutch—her Cancelled! submission. She leans back dramatically, pulling at Tatiana’s jaw and yelling at a camera, “This is what happens when you come for the influencer class!”

Tatiana’s face is twisted with pain, but she doesn’t tap. Inch by inch, she crawls toward the ropes. Amber yanks her back, but the veteran rolls sideways, shifting her weight just enough to slip free, rolling Amber into a pinning cradle!

1!

2!!

KICKOUT!!!

JC: Jolee just pulled off the same move as Amber! Turning a submission into a quick pinfall attempt!

BG: Apparently you CAN teach an old dog new tricks! Amber deserves an award for her discovery!

JC: Jesus, Brodie...get off her dick!

BG: NEVER!

They both pop up—Tatiana shoots a forearm, Amber ducks and fires a Pele kick! The shot lands perfectly. Tatiana collapses to one knee. Amber bounces off the ropes and nails a running knee strike to the side of the head!

Amber makes the cover!

1!

2!!

KICKOUT!

Amber screams in frustration, pounding the mat. She drags Tatiana up and throws a series of corner knees—her “Amber’s Trend” combo. Each one lands with a nasty crack. She backs up, points at the crowd, then hits the ropes for a running bicycle kick—Slay Boo!

Tatiana slumps forward—

—but she catches Amber’s leg! Quick as lightning, she trips her down into an ankle lock!

JC: Quick thinking from the vet!

The crowd comes alive as Amber’s scream echoes throughout the venue. Tatiana torques the ankle, dragging her toward the center of the ring. Amber claws at the mat, eyes wide, nails scraping against canvas.

She tries to roll—but Tatiana maintains control, transitioning seamlessly into a grapevine ankle lock, wrenching it back even tighter.

Amber reaches, almost crying, her face twisted. She finally manages a desperate twist and kicks Tatiana off with her free foot, sending the veteran crashing into the turnbuckles, then down towards the mat.

Both women lie there, breathing heavily. The referee checks them. Tatiana is first to rise, limping slightly. Amber’s ankle is clearly damaged, her face pale as she grabs at it, testing the joint.

Tatiana moves in—Amber surprises her with a spinning back elbow! The crack of bone on bone echoes. Tatiana reels. Amber hits a snap DDT!

JC: Jolee's face just met the canvass!

BG: Well, that's one way to do reconstructive surgery!

Amber stands up and follows up with a hard stomp on Tatiana’s ankle, drawing a shriek from the veteran. Then she grinds her boot down. The crowd boos louder. Amber laughs.

Tatiana, however, grabs the grinding boot—rolling through—kneebar out of nowhere!

Amber’s eyes go wide again, her screams cutting through the noise. She thrashes wildly, trying to get free. Tatiana pulls tighter, twisting her leg at a brutal angle.

Amber digs her nails into the mat, dragging herself inch by inch until—finally—she grabs the bottom rope! The ref calls for the break. Tatiana releases on four, letting Amber know she could’ve ended it if she’d wanted.

Amber clutches her leg, grimacing, rolling to the apron to buy time. Tatiana, meanwhile, stretches her neck and gestures for her to get back in.

Amber slides in slow, wary now, her trademark arrogance dimmed by pain.

They circle again. Tatiana shoots low—Amber counters with a knee lift! Tatiana doubles over. Amber grabs her in a front facelock, spins, and drives her down with a reverse DDT!

Amber goes for the cover!

1!

2!!

KICKOUT!!!

Amber’s disbelief is written across her face. She slaps the mat, then yells, “You’re ruining my moment!”

She drags Tatiana up and whips her into the ropes—Tatiana ducks a clothesline, rebounds, and hits a Snapmare Suplex!

Amber folds in half, bouncing off the mat, and Tatiana hooks the leg!

1!

2!!

3-NO!

KICKOUT!

JC: Tatiana Jolee almost had this match won! That snapmare suplex just about broke Amber Mansley in half!

BG: Thank GOD Amber managed to kick out![/white]

The crowd explodes. Tatiana slaps the mat once, but doesn’t argue. She knows she’s close.

She rises, breathing heavy, sweat slick across her face. She looks at Amber writhing on the mat and senses the opening. She steps behind her, setting up for her finisher—The Calgary Crippler!

Tatiana hooks the arm and goes for the crossface, but Amber rolls through, slipping free and kicking Tatiana off into the turnbuckle!

Tatiana staggers—Amber hits the ropes—Springboard forearm smash!

It’s Giving Finisher!

BG: This is it! This is it! Mansley just decked her Canadian ass with that forearm!

Tatiana drops!

Amber lands hard too, clutching her ankle—but she scrambles, crawls, and hooks the leg!

1!

2!!

3-NO!

JOLEE GETS A SHOULDER UP JUST IN TIME!

BG: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

JC: She did it, she did it! I can't believe it! Tatiana managed to kick out!

Amber screams in disbelief, clutching her hair. The ref signals two. The arena is on edge as the crowd roars in approval. Amber staggers up, limping badly. She drags Tatiana by the hair, slapping her across the face. Tatiana fires back with a forearm. Amber responds with another slap. Forearm. Slap.
They trade, faster and faster until both collapse to their knees, exhausted. The crowd claps, building rhythm.

They rise together, trading forearms now—Tatiana’s precision against Amber’s fury. Finally, Tatiana ducks one and delivers another snapmare immediately followed by a running leg drop!

Jolee makes the cover!

1!

2!!

KICKOUT!!!

JC: What will it take for the veteran to put Mansley away?!

BG: Amber refuses to lose! Least of all to a Canadian!

Tatiana rolls off of Amber, breathing hard and sweating profusely. The two women rest on the mat for a few moments, catching their breath before they rise back to their feet.

Tatiana steps forward for another lockup, but Amber pokes her in the eye unseen by the ref! Gasps ripple through the crowd.

Amber takes advantage, hoisting Tatiana for a Falcon Arrow!

The massive impact shakes the ring!

Mansley goes in for the cover!

1!

2!!

KICKOUT!!!

Tatiana refuses to die!

Amber yells at the referee again, calling the count biased. She gets up, measuring Tatiana. “You’re cancelled!” she yells and tries to lock in the camel clutch again.

But Tatiana rolls through, trapping Amber’s leg and transitioning into a crossface chicken wing! The veteran’s technical brilliance shines. She cinches it deep, wrapping her legs around Amber’s torso.

Amber flails, eyes wide. Her hand hovers, ready to tap— but instead, she reaches out and grabs the ropes! The referee has no choice but to force them apart!

JC: This match has been a certified barn-burner, Brodie, and it's anyone's guess who's going to win!

BG: Anyone's guess?! Are you crazy?! Amber's got this!

JC: But it's not looking good for her right now, Brodie!

BG: But Amber always looks good!

Both women stumble to their feet, Tatiana moving slower now. Her face is red, her breathing labored. Amber, limping on one leg, charges with a bicycle knee—but Tatiana dodges and spins into a side Russian leg sweep!

Tatiana holds on, rolling right into The Calgary Crippler!

The crowd erupts! She’s got it locked dead center of the ring!

Amber screams, face contorted in agony, nails clawing the mat. Tatiana yells for her to tap. The ref’s down, asking—Amber shakes her head violently, refusing.

Tatiana torques harder. Amber’s hand hovers again—then she bites down on Tatiana’s wrist! The ref warns her, but the grip loosens just enough for Amber to slip free, rolling out under the ropes to the floor.

BG: Atta' girl, Amber! That's how you do it!

Tatiana sits up, shaking her arm in pain, furious at the cheap tactic. She rolls out after her foe, grabbing Amber by the hair—but Amber rams her back-first into the apron!

Amber follows up with a snap suplex on the floor! Both women scream from the impact. Amber drags herself up, rolls Tatiana back into the ring to avoid the count-out. She climbs up to the apron, then to the top rope.

She goes for Viral! A diving shooting star splash!

But Tatiana moves! Amber crashes hard, bouncing off her knees and clutching her ribs.

Tatiana drags herself upright using the ropes. She stalks forward, seizing Amber’s arm and pulling her back into The Calgary Crippler again!

Amber screams, her face buried in agony. Tatiana wrenches back as the referee checks on Amber, whose hand wavers again, trembling.

But she shifts, grabbing Tatiana’s hand, and scratches her eye! The hold breaks! The referee warns her, but Amber pays his pearl-clutching no mind!

JC: Another dirty move from Mansley! I'm pretty sure those cheap tricks are the only thing keeping Amber in this match!

Amber gasps, coughing, her eyes wild. Tatiana’s blinking furiously, trying to clear her vision as the referee continues admonishing Mansley for her creative interpretation of the rules.

But Amber doesn't care.

She just seizes her chance— with a spinning back fist to Jolee's face! Tatiana drops to a knee.

Amber bounces off the ropes and hits another bicycle kick—Slay Boo!

Tatiana collapses to the mat, seemingly lifeless.

Amber staggers, pulling herself up on the ropes. The crowd is at a fever pitch. She turns and sees Tatiana laying before choosing to limp to the corner.

BG: Wait, what the hell is Amber doing right now?! She has this match won! She just needs to go for the pin!

JC: It looks like Mansley has bigger ideas than that, Brodie!

“Time to go viral!” Amber shouts, climbing the ropes one more time. The crowd’s roar crescendos as she takes flight—

Diving Shooting Star Splash!

VIRAL!

But Jolee dives out of the way just in time!

Amber eats the canvass!

BG: NO! Damn it, no!

JC: Amber Mansley just bit off more than she could chew! She had this match all but won, but instead of playing it safe, she tried to go VIRAL- and now, she might pay dearly for it!

BG: I gotta get in there, I gotta help my girl out!

JC: Stop simping so hard, Brodie! No matter what you do, she's not going to let you hit!

BG: Damn!

Amber pushes herself back up to a standing position, but Jolee is already waiting behind her-

WITH A DOUBLE CLUTCH!

JC: A CODEBREAKER FROM JOLEE!

BG: You can fight through this Amber! Don't go towards the light!

Jolee hooks the leg for the pin as Brodie sobs on commentary!

1!

2!!

3!!!

Winner - Tatiana Jolee

Tatiana Jolee pushes herself back up to a standing position after the bell rings. The referee raises Jolee's hand in victory as Amber Mansley slowly rolls out of the ring, both women battered and bruised after tonight's war. The electric crowd hoots and hollers as a smile spreads across Jolee's bloody lips.

JC: Jolee did it! She fought, she battled, she went to WARFARE and she WON! Ultimately, her veteran savvy and technical skills were too much for Amber to overcome!

BG: I can't believe what I just saw....I'm heartbroken.

JC: And Amber's back might just be broken after that devastating Double Clutch codebreaker, but we don't have time to sweat the small things tonight, Brodie! We have to get on to our next match!

PARKING GARAGE - SECOND FLOOR

We see some fans tailgating outside the arena…

When suddenly, Latoya Hixx goes flying across the scene, rolling chaotically…

Betsy stumbles onto the scene, still chasing after Hixx… the fans shout excitedly for a Betsy Granger sighting! Betsy humbly waves and smiles… before turning her attention toward Latoya, dragging her off her feet!

Betsy wraps her arm around Latoya’s neck — into a Cobra Clutch!

JC: Uh-oh… that’s the setup for “Down You Go!”

BG: Don’t say it! Don’t summon it!

Betsy’s in position!

…But Latoya thrashes — elbowing Betsy in the ribs! She slips free! Betsy doubles over, staggering backwards toward the edge of the garage!

And just like that — Latoya charges! — building speed —

SPEAR!

OFF THE SECOND FLOOR!

BOTH LATOYA AND BETSY FALL THROUGH THE AIR!

Landing on the hood of a Hummer, crushing the windshield!

JC: OH MY GOD!

Betsy and Latoya lie in a heap! Both unconscious!

BG: Jee Hosephat!

JC: …Well, Latoya played spoiler for Betsy’s return! We didn’t get to see Betsy compete… But oh my God, these two went to war outside the ring!

BG: Will we see them run it back in the future? GOD I HOPE SO!

The X-Tron whirs to life! "John Black" gets shot onto the screen with the .38 special! The screen goes black-and-white. At the top of the ramp, John Black stands tall, taking in the negative reactions.

JC: What a night of returns! The first show after Relentless and one of the longest-tenured stars in the history of the XWF… JOHN BLACK… Makes his return!

BG: John’s a livin’ legend, Jacko! He’s one of the few men in XWF history to have a victory over John Madison, the man who at one point possessed the highest recorded ELO of all-time!

JC: He’s a one-time X-Treme champion *and* a two-time Revolution champion! The XWF just feels a little more like itself with John Black in the building!

John Black walks down to the ramp, sneering at some of the disapproving fans, then he climbs on the steel steps and enters the ring, and he raises his fist in the air as he pounds his chest around the ring as his theme cuts off.

…

The honeyed rasp of Atara's voice blares over the facility's PA in unison with those words appearing on the multitude of screens and displays littering the arena.

HELLO DOVES

The crowd pops and gets to their feet shouting in near total unison a single word.

OPA!

JC: Speaking of Relentless weekend, Atara Raven! What an absolute masterclass of wrestling excellence!

BG: She took on two very game competitors in a triple-threat match with an opportunity for the Anarchy Title on the line! The phenom rookie, ‘The Influence’ Amber Mansley and the wrestling legend, ‘The Tactilizing One’ Larry Tact!

JC: Two of the best Anarchy has to offer! And Atty found a way to beat them and secure her shot for the Anarchy Title! And with the longest-reigning Anarchy champion, ‘Micheal Graves’, declared unfit to compete… All that stands between her and the Anarchy Title is ‘Psycho’ Solomon this coming Thursday!

BG: You’re saying ‘all that stands’ like it’s gonna be a cakewalk! ‘Psycho’ crushed Amber Bane-Ryan at Relentless AND Barney Green earlier tonight! Atty’s gonna have her hands full on Thursday! And that’s if she makes it to Thursday at all when John Black’s done with her!

JC: You make a fair point, Brody! John Black is a long-time Anarchy regular… If he wants to enter discussions for a future shot at the Anarchy title, a win over the current #1 contender tonight would propel him to the top of future discussions…

Arena lights start to pulse in time with the music and multiple vertical streams of pyro erupt across the front of stage. Strutting with purpose, Atara emerges from the back taking spot centerstage atop the ramp. Posing for the camera, a wink and kiss is given to the viewers at home.

Outside the ring, a single ladder is standing… But right now, both Atara Raven and John Black are locked in on each other, and clearly eager to throw hands!

The bell rings!

Atara Raven
- vs -
John Black
Ladder Match

John Black stands dead center in the ring, shoulders squared, chest heaving.

JC: John Black is laser-focused!

BG: Atty may be the Raven, but JB’s eyes are scanning his opponent like a hawk measuring distance before a strike.

Atara’s head tilts slightly, lips parting into a faint, teasing smile. The corners of her eyes crinkle like she’s reading him, enjoying the prelude to violence

The first to attack is John Black,, shooting in with a rough collar-and-elbow tie-up! His forearms grind against Atara’s shoulders as he leans his full weight into her!

Atara grits her teeth under the strain — her eyes dart upward, registering the tension, the proximity. Her breath shortens, her face reddens, but she smirks through it.

JC: Atty is nothing if not confident!

BG: Confident like a damn jackass! Ol’ John Black’s got a good 200 pounds on her, what the hell’s she gotta smile about it tangling with him!

Black jockeys for control, manhandling Atty deeper and deeper toward her own corner…

When suddenly, Raven dips her hips, rolls her shoulders, and slips under his arms, twisting out of the hold with elegant precision, into a hammerlock! With Black’s arm twisted into his back, he tries to reach over to grab Raven by the hair, but Raven drops her grip and…

DROPKICKS BLACK IN THE BACK!

Black is driven toward the ropes! But the militant behemoth finds a way to stay on his feet!

JC: That’s the pankration discipline, Brody! She’s using those Greco counters and strikes to finesse control and counteract JB’s power advantage!

BG: You call it finesse, I call it showboatin’. And John Black don’t take kindly to showboatin’.

A sharp, frustrated exhale escapes John’s nostrils. He shoves off the ropes toward his opponent! Atty’s taken off her feet, as Black swings forward with a low grip for a…

SIDEWALK SLAM!

…

NO! Atty kicks her legs out midair and twists — reversing the motion into a…

HEADSCISSORS! Black is flipped onto his back!

JB rolls through to his knees! But Atty pops up instantly!

HELLO DOVES

The crowd roars in approval.

OPA!

Atty climbs to the second rope, grinning ear to ear as she soaks in the roar of the crowd!

JC: Atara Raven is absolutely feeling it!

Black slaps the mat once, muttering to himself before rising… Just as Atty hops down off the second rope!

Black lunges — this time catching her mid-hop, arms wrapping around her waist. His expression flashes with vindication — gotcha — as he hoists her up, delivering a…

BELLY-TO-BELLY SUPLEX!

…CONNECTS!

The whole canvas rattles! Atara arches her back, a gasp escaping through clenched teeth. Her face tightens in pain…

BG: Absolute MONSTER move by John Black! Raven looks like she got thrown clean out of her nest and just busted a wing!

Black continues the attack, dragging Atty by the wrist off the mat…

He yanks her into a front-facelock, setting up for a…

SNAP SUPLEX!

…

But as JB lifts, Atara hooks her leg around his knee and blocks!

JB tries to muscle Raven up and over, but Atty blocks again, and then fires a series of quick pankration-style jabs to his ribs!

Black stumbles half a step back… He turns on the jets, sprinting at Raven!

…But Atara plants her feet, spins, and lifts her knee!

Catching Black under the chin!

Black staggers into the ropes behind him…

And Atty charges!

Judgement of Paris — running knee strike to the skull!

Black gets BLASTED, collapsing through the ropes, falling out of the ring entirely.

JC: Holy COW! What a sequence of strikes by Atara Raven! She is looking absolutely dominant right now!

The audience erupts as Atara drops to one knee, hair tousled, her chest rising fast…

Atara gathers herself spinning toward the ramp, her eyes locking on the ladder lying at ringside!

She rolls out, grabbing the ladder with both hands and sliding it under the ropes. The metal clangs loudly, echoing off the crowd’s energy. She slides it under the bottom rope, pausing at the apron, glancing over her shoulder to ensure Black’s still down on the opposite side of the ring, then pulls the ladder off the mat and begins setting it up beneath the hanging briefcase…

JC: No bumps in the road right now, looks like Atty might cruise through the finish line on this match!

Raven grips the first rung, boots planted. The fans chant her name in rhythm:

ATTY! ATTY! ATTY!

But then—

The crowd’s tone shifts — cheers turning to a wall of boos that ripple through the arena.

Atara’s face shifts from determination to confusion. Her head turns slowly toward the stage. Her fingers loosen on the rung.

Down the ramp, swaggering like wolves circling prey, come Reggie Estrada and Tommy Wish — the THUGs — smirking and jawing with fans as they make their way to ringside.

Atara’s lips part in disbelief, then tighten into a scowl. Her nostrils flare; her hands go from climbing posture to fists.

JC: What the hell are the THUGS doing!?! They’re not a part of this match!

BG: I think they’d argue to the contrary, Jacko! No DQ in a ladder match! Business just picked up, Jacuinde! The cavalry’s here for John Black!

The camera pans between Atara’s poised, furious glare and the two THUGs closing in. John Black, still dazed against the barricade, slowly begins to stir — his eyes flickering with confusion at first… then recognition.

Tommy and Reggie slow roll to the ring, soaking in the crowd’s disapproval for their choice to get involved…

But Atara.

DOESN’T

HESITATE, BITCH.

The moment Reggie and Tommy hit the bottom of the ramp, Raven charges through the ropes, a comet of motion and rage, her hair flying behind her like a crimson banner…

Reggie is delivering his trademark choke… Tommy is actually facing the ring and his eyes widen!

SHE LEAPS!

TOPE SUICIDA!

…Tommy narrowly dives to the right out of harm’s way!

AS ATTY SPEARS THROUGH REGGIE ESTRADA!

JC: THE RAVEN TAKES FLIGHT!

Reggie’s flattened against the steel floor, mouth hanging open in a mix of pain and disbelief. The crowd detonates in cheers.

OPA!

JC: OPA!

Tommy’s desperate dive to survive sends him backfirst into the barricade… But he shoves off, ready to go on the attack…

Atara pushes herself off Reggie’s fallen form — teeth gritted, adrenaline buzzing…

But, Tommy, like a scavenger, lunges — catching her by the skull with a fist full of hair— and with a cruel snap of motion, flips her back-first into the barricade!

KERACK! Atara’s spine arches in agony! She collapses against the barricade, one hand clutching her back, eyes fluttering in pain.

JC: Dammit! Knock over one THUG, another catches you from behind!
BG: And while Atty is partaking in extra-curricular activities, fighting guys who ain’t even her opponent, John Black keeps his eyes on the prize!

Indeed, John Black rolls back inside the ring, shaking off the cobwebs. His jaw is tight, his eyes narrowed to slits. He spots the ladder — already set up beneath the briefcase by Atara… JB shoves himself off the mat up to his feet… adjusting the ladder just slightly to be directly under his prize…

Then he starts to climb.

JC: Black is making his way up the ladder… Atara’s gotta make her way to the ring if she wants to stay in this one!

BG: But to do that, she’s gotta go through the FIVE-TIME! FIVE-TIME! FIVE-TIME X-TREME CHAMPION! Tommy Wish!

Tommy doesn’t wait for Atty to get up… instead, circling behind Atara as she struggles to stand…

Tommy bends down and snatches her ankle, wrenching it violently backward.

ANKLE LOCK! ANKLE LOCK!

Atara’s eyes shoot wide open — a sharp gasp escaping as her hands slam into the floor. Her body thrashes, her hair sticking to her sweat-damp face. Her lips curl back as she screams through gritted teeth, clawing for anything — barricade, floor, air — to escape.

JC: Tommy’s gonna snap her ankle! This is disgusting!
BG: It’s a legitimate strategy, Jacko! How’s Atty gonna climb a ladder with a broken ankle!?!

Her face twists in anguish, but her eyes sharpen — focus cutting through the pain.

She plants one free leg against the ground…

And somersault rolls forward!

Wish’s body flips forward into the barricade!

JC: ATARA! RAVEN! WILL! NOT! DIE!

Tommy slams spine-first into the metal with a brutal clang, clutching his lower back…

Atara forces herself up on one leg, grimacing but fired up…

She surges forward with everything she has left — JUDGMENT OF PARIS!

CRACK!

The knee connects with Tommy’s FACE! Wish goes up and over the barricade, his body sailing into the first row, fans scattering as he crashes into chairs and guardrails. The audience erupts in unfiltered chaos.

JC: And that’s the second Thug down! Atty’s cleared the interference!
BG: But they did their job, Jacko! Black’s halfway up the ladder! Atty should just start walking back up the ramp, this one’s O-VAH!

Indeed, John Black is halfway up the ladder. JB glances once toward the carnage outside, then back to the briefcase. His hand hovers just below the next rung.

Atty starts limping toward the ring, slidin’ under the bottom rope—her face twisted with pain, her jaw tight, one hand clutching her knee from that earlier Ankle Lock. Her lips curl into a determined snarl as she grabs the ladder rungs and starts climbing like a woman possessed.

John looks down, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as he notices her catching up.

JC: Atara Raven! Climbing on one leg! BUT CLOSING THE DISTANCE!

Atara pulls herself two steps below JB… They both take a step at the same time…

And then Atara pulls herself one step under Black… Just as Black is within arm’s reach of the briefcase!

Atara reaches up, trying to stop Black from making the grab… But Black grabs Atty by the hair…

And he SLAMS her skull down into the top of the ladder, leaping down two steps to do it WITH AUTHORITY!

The clang echoes through the arena. Atara’s body jolts—eyes wide, her hands trembling as her head whips back from the impact. She drops two steps…

But she still clutches the steel!

JC: Oh goodness! Both these two competitors are teetering on the precipice of victory!

BG: That’s the thing about precipices, Jackie boy! They’re real easy to fall off of!

Black’s breathing is heavy… he crowd roaring as he reaches toward the dangling briefcase above. His fingertips graze the metal latch…

Atara grips the top of the ladder…

And extends a kick around metal…

Driving her boot into Black’s ribs! THUD!

John’s body jerks from the blow—his face twisting into a grimace, air hissing through his teeth as he clutches his side and wobbles near the top…

For a moment… the ladder rumbles under the shift in weight…

Atty clings on!

…

The ladder stay in position!

John Black cradles his ribs, as Atty pulls herself up, reaching for the briefcase!

JC: Atty’s gonna pull it off!

BG: Or she could CHOKE!

As if right on cue, Reggie Estrada slides under the bottom rope, face slick with sweat and fury.

Atty gets her hands around the briefcase latch…

RIGHT AS REGGIE TUGS HER DOWN A RUNG BY THE ANKLE!

…Atty, running on instinct and reflexes, brow furrows, snaps her heel downward!

CRACK!—right into Reggie’s temple!

Estrada crumples, dazed, tumbling backward out of the ring… and right into Tommy Wish, who’s just reemerged from the front row chaos! Both THUGs hit the floor in a heap.

JC: Reggie tried to play spoiler—and Atara just punted his head clean off his shoulders! She was a QB in the LFL, but maybe she should’ve been a kicker!

Atara exhales, her chest heaving as she slowly pulls herself back to the top of the ladder…

ONLY TO MEET JOHN BLACK WAITING FOR HER!

JB seizes Atty by the THROAT!

The crowd gasps—

—and BLACK SLAMS HER OFF THE LADDER WITH A CHOKESLAM!

JC: OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!

BG: YESSSSSSSSS! YESSSSSSS! JOHN BLACK! JOHN BLACK! JOHN BLACK!

The ring booms on impact, Atara’s body sprawled lifelessly on the canvas, her hair splayed like dark ink beneath her.

John steadies himself, sweat dripping down his face, his chest rising and falling like a storm tide. He looks up once more, extends a weary arm, and—

UNHOOKS THE BRIEFCASE!

Winner: John Black

BG: Black did it! Against the odds, John Black climbs the ladder—literally and figuratively—to capture the victory!

JC: How was that against the odds, Brody!?! John Black had both Tommy Wish *and* Reggie Estrada to back him up?!? And Atara still almost pulled it off!

BG: The word almost ain’t appearin’ in any record books I’ve ever read, Jacko! All I know is John Black just beat the #1 contender for the Anarchy Title! And whether Atty wins or Kline wins on Thursday for the vacant belt, you just *know* Mister John Black is gonna be anglin’ for a shot at the Big Blue Belt!

&list=RDKKiRou2LzHM&start_radio=1

The crowd roars to life as the familiar theme for Centurion plays. Out from the back steps Centurion, wearing a suit and holding the X-Treme Title over his shoulder.

JC: Well, this is an unexpected surprise. Centurion is here, fresh off his title victory at Relentless.

BG: He comes in from off the couch, fights in an absolute WAR of a match, and walks out as the X-Treme Champion! Not bad for a man half your age, Jacuinde.

JC: Oh, stop it!

Centurion looks to storm down the ramp as he usually does, but he stops towards the top to look out into the crowd and soak in the chants from the crowd in attendance. He cracks a slight smile before continuing to the ring. He slides in and gestures to ringside for a mic, which he is given. He looks at his title one last time before raising the mic to his lips and looking out into the crowd.

“Wow…what a month, huh? You know, my life has taken me down some very interesting paths - some planned, and many unexpected. This one, though - me standing in front of you as a champion at the age of 48 - that is certainly high on my list of unexpected paths.”

Centurion smiles as the crowd cheers again.

“You know, over the past month, I have done a lot of things. I have explained why I was back. I’ve defended myself. I’ve talked about my past, and my future, but there’s one thing I realized I haven’t done yet…and that’s apologize.

A year ago, I was given the send off of a lifetime. You all cheered as hard as you could for me. My friends, my colleagues, they all made comments celebrating my career and pointing out my accomplishments, and I made a PROMISE that night that I would never step back in a wrestling ring again. I made that promise to you, to my family, and most importantly, I made it to Thad Duke, who took great pride in being my final opponent.

And I broke that promise. And no amount of explanation is going to make that right.

You all had every right to boo me out of the building at Relentless…but you didn’t. Instead, you stood in my corner again, like you have for the past 24 years, and I can only thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

The crowd roars again.

“There is one thing I do know - one lesson that I have learned from all of this. And it’s that, no matter what happens, no matter how I may feel or how old I get…NEVER promise to retire. Because there’s no such thing as ‘never’ in this business. Thank you, XWF!”

Centurion raises the X-Treme Title to the air as the crowd roars once more and “Wild Thing” plays. Centurion takes a few minutes to soak up some cheers from the crowd before rolling out of the ring and walking towards the back.

JC: A truly heartfelt moment by the legend there. I have reached out to Centurion to ask him about his schedule moving forward, but he has yet to confirm anything. I’m not sure what show he’s going to be on, or how often he plans on wrestling, but what I do know…

&t=1s

Before Centurion makes it all the way to the back, the music for Scoops McGee begins to play. Scoops walks out from the back, dressed and ready for his match, and gestures towards the crowd before noticing Centurion hasn’t walked back through the apron yet. Centurion, on his part, stops when he sees Scoops step out, and the two stare eye to eye. Before long, the two begin jawjacking, and McGee’s music is replaced with the sound of the crowd roaring in anticipation.

BG: Now THIS is a match I want to see! Let these two old dogs batter the hell out of each other!

JC: Scoops McGee seems very interested in that X-Treme Title, and Centurion seems very interested in Scoops McGee!

The two step closer to each other and Centurion raises the title into Scoops face, causing Scoops to push Centurion away from him. Centurion shoves him back, but before a full fight could break out, officials from the back run out to separate the two.

BG: Oh come on!

JC: Scoops still has a big match with Sebastian Everett-Bryce tonight, and I’m sure the office doesn’t want anything screwing that up!

A few of the officials point Scoops towards the ring while the rest escort Centurion to the back.

JC: Folks, this next match is… It’s going to be insane. This is the sort of match that you’d figure you’d need state-of-the-art computer simulations to run! Two Legends from two different eras of wrestling meeting in the ring!

BG: And all it took was some old fool deciding to keep doing this into his SIXTIES, Jacko!

JC: You watch your mouth, Brody! Both of these men are beloved the industry over! And for the first time, they will meet HEAD-TO-HEAD! In a TEXAS DEATHMATCH!

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

JC: There he is! Scoops McGee! The ultimate X-Treme legend! He’s traveled the world over! He’s wrestled in Japan! He’s been around for the Territories! And incredibly, after over FOUR DECADES in the wrestling world, he finds himself on the grandest stage of them all! The XWF!

BG: Look, fine, I’ll play your game, Jacko! Yes, Scoops has an impressive career resume! You know what’s not on it! A SINGLE world title! Scoops is a journeyman! A stunt car driver!

JC: I think I would ask security to walk you to your car making statements like that Brody! I can’t argue with the fact that a world title reign is the last checkbox Scoops wants to check on a list of dream achievements any competitor would love to have… But, if anyone in this industry can have a world title reign at the age of SIXTY-THREE! It’s SCOOPS MCGEE![w/hite]

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

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

…

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

"She askin' “Why you say that?!”

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

"Rich kid asshole, paint me as a villain"

Sebastian Everett-Bryce flings his arms wide, staring up with his head covered by the hood of his jacket. He stands in the middle of the ramp, the lights beating down on him, before looking out at the crowd. He wears a long jacket with the hood pulled up over his head, 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’s in black and white and appears to be cracked and broken. His tights are short, with the initials SEB emblazoned upon the front.

[white]JC: And there he is! Sebastian Everett-Bryce! TWO-TIME Universal champion! He came just inches away from going an undefeated THREE-and-OH! Three nights, three wins! If it weren’t for Charlie… Effin’... Nickles getting involved in SEB’s final match with Isaiah King, he could have had yet another hall of fame level achievement!

BG: And don’t forget, Jacko! He’s got the 24/7 briefcase! At any time, he could become the first-ever THREE-time Universal champion!

JC: SEB has made it very clear he wants to do it right! He wants to beat the Universal champion 100% straight-up! And if anyone can? It’s Sebastian Everett-Bryce!

The lights lift, and SEB makes his way to the ring, stretching his neck from side to side as he walks, his eyes focused on the ring. He climbs up the steps and steps through the ropes before standing in the middle of the ring.

"I'm winnin', yeah, yeah, I'm winnin' (What?)
Rich kid, asshole, paint me as a villain"

He extends his arms once more before pulling back his hood and removing his jacket to reveal the back of his tights which read “S.E.B”

"Don't be mad cause I'm doing me better than you doing you
Better than you doing you, fuck it, what you gon' do? (What?!)"

He flashes his arms out to a side, a satisfied and somewhat sneery grin upon his face, he holds the position for a moment, to allow the crowd to take pictures, before moving towards his corner.

Scoops McGee
- vs -
Sebastian Everett-Bryce
Texas Death Match
In order to win, a competitor must first pin their opponent and then ensure they fail to respond to a 10-count to win.

JC: And here we go! Sebastian Everett-Bryce versus Scoops McGee — a Texas Deathmatch! Remember folks, you’ve gotta pin your opponent before the referee even starts that ten-count. This one’s gonna be brutal!”

BG: This one’s gonna be biblical, Jackie Boy. Scoops McGee’s been fightin’ longer than SEB’s been alive! He’s got bunions in his foot older than SEB!

SEB and Scoops circle one another in the center of the ring — the crowd already split between admiration for the veteran and anticipation for the technically gifted SEB.

Scoops’ lips tighten into a thin, weathered line. His fists twitch. His shoulders tense. He smells blood before there’s even any to spill.

Then—CRACK!

Scoops fires the first shot — a meaty chop that echoes through the arena. SEB’s chest instantly reddens, his jaw locking tight as he exhales sharply through his nose.

JC: Good lord, that chop sounded like a thunderclap! Scoops McGee wastes no time easing his way up to the hard stuff!

BG: That’s that farmhand strength, Jacko! He’s been smackin’ cows around since the Carter administration!

Scoops steps forward with another chop — then another!SEB staggers back toward the ropes, his body twisting under the impact. His hand clutches at his chest — the pain evident — but the glint in his eyes sharpens…

Scoops goes for a BIG chop!

…But SEB ducks under, before suddenly firing back with a European uppercut!

Scoops’ head jerks back into the corner, favoring his jaw… He nods, excited for an old school scrap…

In a snap Scoops lunges again, swinging a wild left forearm — the infamous…

CATTLE PROD!

But SEB’s too quick! SEB ducks low, his hips twist, and he fires another uppercut into McGee’s ribs this time — the move deliberate, controlled, a contrast to Scoops’ raw energy.

JC: That’s right there? Is maybe the most underrated part of SEB’s game… his adaptability! Every strike, every movement… has a purpose! Every minute, he’s tightening his game to counteract his opponent!

Scoops tries to bull forward, reaching for a clinch, but once again SEB sidesteps…

He feints high with a kick, then sweeps low, catching Scoops behind the knee. The veteran stumbles, one hand instinctively bracing against the mat.

BG: Scoops came here for a hoss fight, but SEB’s picking him apart with precision strikes!

SEB’s eyes narrow, immediately spotting a big opportunity… he grabs Scoops by the wrist, twisting the arm behind the older man’s back in a tight grounded hammerlock, forcing Scoops onto his stomach on the mat...

Scoops’ face contorts… His teeth grit, his breath short and sharp.

SEB transitions smoothly, rolling through the hold and dragging Scoops down to the mat. The crowd murmurs as SEB snakes his leg over Scoops’ shoulder, his posture shifting from opportunistic to predatory precision. He cinches in a…

CROSSFACE! SEB grinds the forearm across Scoops’ jaw while wrenching back the arm!

JC: SEB is working out a clinic on Scoops McGee!

BG: Scoops is a legend, but this technical grappling stuff ain’t in his wheelhouse! Hats off to SEB for knowing if he keeps things catch-as-catch-can, he can play Scoops like a banjo! You could give Scoops a GPS and three days of food, he’d STARVE before he’s finding a way out of SEB’s crossface!

Scoops’ free arm claws at the mat, pulling, dragging — every inch of motion powered by grit and fury. His mouth twists into a snarl. The crowd roars as his hand rises once more, shaking in refusal.

…SEB leans forward, trying to apply additional torque to the arm…

And THAT’S when Scoops reaches over the shoulder… and claws SEB across the eyes!

JC: Scoops McGee’s clawing at the eyes! He’s desperate— and he found his way out of the crossface!

Scoops’ fingers dig into SEB’s face, his thumb raking the eye socket!

SEB jerks back instantly, his grip loosening as his body contorts in sudden pain.

Scoops, knowing he needs to re-evaluate his approach, rolls beneath the bottom rope, collapsing onto the arena floor.

SEB’s back hits the canvas inside the ring, his teeth gritted, fingers rubbing at his eyelids in irritation. He blinks hard, shaking his head, trying to blink away the sting and the blurriness that clouds his focus…

JC: I think that eye rake *really* got SEB in the eye! They’re both getting an opportunity to recover here…

BG: Don’t speak too soon, Jacko!

Suddenly, from outside the ring, Scoops reaches back under the bottom rope, gripping SEB’s boot.

JC: Uh oh— Scoops is draggin’ him out!

SEB yelps in surprise as he’s yanked under the bottom rope and dropped hard on the floor outside! Both men land in a heap — but Scoops moves first, crawling into a brawling mount atop The Empire… Scoops launches a hard right hand that cracks across SEB’s jaw, then another, and another — his face lit with wild-eyed fury and pride!

BG: See, this? This AIN’T where SEB wants to be, Jacko! You don’t wanna get in a fist fight with Scoops McGee, he’s tough as old leather!

JC: Scoops is forcing SEB back into playing his game! An absolutely physical WAR!

SEB’s body jolts with each shot, but even dazed, his instincts kick in. He lashes out with stiff, snapping kicks to Scoops’ chest. Each strike connects with a thud, sending bursts of sweat and spit from the older man’s lips… As the kicks start to slow Scoops’ life-sapping straight punches!

BG: It’s two conflicting styles, Jackie boy! Scoops throws hammers, SEB throws scalpels! But both work as long as they’re hitting their target!

Scoops growls low, and suddenly grabs SEB by the wrist and hurls him backward in a rough snapmare!
THUD! — SEB’s spine collides with the cold steel of the turnbuckle post. His body arches in agony, face tightening, eyes wincing shut from the shock of pain shooting through his back.

Scoops takes a step back, sweat flying from his gray hair, his breath ragged but his eyes alive. He wipes his mouth, smirks, and charges forward — the crowd roaring as he barrels in for his signature running hip attack.

He goes to crush SEB against the p-

CRACK!

A perfect SUPERKICK detonates against Scoops’ jaw mid-air!

McGee crumples to the floor outside, his body falling stiff as a board before rolling to his back. The audience gasps, a split second of silence before erupting into cheers.

JC: WHAT a counter! Sebastian Everett-Bryce just cut McGee’s momentum short with that Superkick!

BG: He dang near knocked his dentures into the fifth row!

JC: Brody, you know very well Scoops doesn’t have dentures!

BG: I know nothing of the sort, Jackie boy!

SEB kneels beside Scoops, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, muttering something under his breath before trying to roll him back toward the apron…

JC: Ring awareness on display here by Sebastian Everett-Bryce! He knows the longer he’s outside the ring, the more opportunity for… let’s say, ‘creative’ violence for Scoops to turn the tide in his favor!

BG: Don’t use euphemism, Jackie! The long SEB’s outside the ring, the more likely it is Scoops is gonna pull out barbed wire or a chainsaw!

But, as SEB tries to grapple Scoops under the bottom rope, Scoop’s eyes flash open — wild, bloodshot, dangerous! He drives a short, brutal punch into SEB’s midsection!

CATTLE PROD!

SEB’s whole body folds forward, a gasp escaping his lips as the wind rushes out of him.

Scoops takes a deep breath and pivots, wrapping his arm around SEB’s neck. In a single, surprisingly smooth motion, he snaps him backward!

THUD! Russian Leg Sweep!

Both men go crashing into the padded concrete!

SEB clutches the back of his neck, face contorted in pain, his teeth bared as he rolls over, groaning. Scoops lies beside him for a few seconds, chest rising and falling like a piston, before he props himself up on one elbow…

BG: See! Bad strategy by Scoops there! He’s an old geezer! What if he falls and he can’t get up?!? Is he wearing a Life Alert?

JC: Brody, show some class and respect! He’s hanging in there toe-to-toe with Sebastian Everett-Bryce of all people!

Scoops looks around, trying to figure out his next move…

Then — with that old sadistic glint in his eye — Scoops starts clawing at the floor padding! The Velcro tears away with a gritty rrrip, exposing the dull gray concrete underneath. The crowd buzzes!

JC: Wait— oh no, no, no! Scoops McGee’s stripping the padding!
BG: Here we go! Business is picking up! We’re about to see a Big Scoop, Texas Deathmatch style!

Scoops stands, breathing hard, sweat pouring down his face. He wipes his forearm across his brow and grabs SEB by the head, dragging him upright. His lips curl into a cruel grin as he positions SEB…

He hoists—

BIG SCOOP ONTO THE EXPOSED CONCRETE!

…

…..

But SEB twists, bringing his feet back to the padding!

Using Scoops’ own momentum against him, SEB pops his hips and launches Scoops up and over with a sudden…

BACK BODY DROP!

Scoops crashes down hard on the remaining padded section of the floor, arching his spine in agony, his hands flying to his lower back. His face contorts — eyes squeezed shut, teeth grinding together as he rocks in pain.

JC: What a counter! Everett-Bryce saves himself just in time!
BG: Elder abuse! That poor old man just hit the floor like a sack of concrete mix!

SEB leans against the ring apron, one hand on his neck, chest rising and falling as he looks down at Scoops writhing on the ground.

SEB approaches, gripping the veteran by the skull, his fingers digging into Scoops’ scalp.

SEB shoves Scoops under the bottom rope, rolling him back into the ring. The older man groans in protest, clutching at his back, every movement stiff and pained. He rolls onto his side, his face twisted in agony as he reaches instinctively toward his spine, the damage already visible in his grimace.

BG: This one’s O-VAH! Scoops is lookin’ ready to get put out to pasture!

SEB follows him in, sliding under the ropes… SEB yanks McGee upward by the neck… The Empire’s eyes flick to the ropes, already calculating the trajectory…

The crowd stirs, knowing what’s coming.

JC: SEB’s clearly sizing up Scoops for an Empire Kick! This could be it right here!

SEB whips Scoops toward the ropes—

—but Scoops plants his boots, stopping on a dime!. With a burst of veteran rage, he spins on an advancing SEB!

WHAM!

CLOTHESLINE FROM HELL! SEB gets folded inside out!

The crowd explodes!

JC: “WOW! Scoops just turned SEB inside out!”

SEB hits the mat hard, his body bouncing once before settling. Scoops drops onto him for the cover, hooking the leg.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NO! SEB shoots a shoulder up just before three!

JC: That was so close! Scoops McGee nearly had a pinfall on SEB!
BG: Nearly don’t win ya Texas Deathmatches, nerd boy!

Scoops shakes his head, knowing until his opponent’s beat, he’s still got work to do. His chest heaves as he crawls over SEB, straddling him… and McGee starts raining down mounted punches!

SEB’s arms come up defensively, blocking some, absorbing others. His head jerks with every impact, his expression shifting from panic to focus!

JC: SEB does NOT want to be in this spot!

BG: No, sir, Jackie! Every one of Scoops’ punches is like getting hit with a BRICK to the face!

Scoops reels back for a BIG shot… When SEB surges forward, latching his arms around Scoops’ neck!

From beneath, SEB hooks Scoops’ arm, shifts his hips, and reverses their positions—using McGee’s own momentum to roll him face-first into the middle turnbuckle!

JUDO ROLL!

JC: What a reversal! That’s that technical wrestling genius on display!

BG: He’s slipperier than a greased hog! Scoops didn’t see that one comin’!

Scoops’ forehead smacks against the pad with a loud THUMP! He turns around, dazed, blinking through the haze of pain and exhaustion, his back slumped against the corner.

And that’s when SEB rushes in, every muscle snapping to life—

BOOM!

EMPIRE KICK!

…

CONNECTS!

SEB’s boot connects flush with Scoops’ face, the impact echoing like a gunshot. The veteran crumples instantly, collapsing to the mat like a felled oak tree.

JC: EMPIRE KICK! EMPIRE KICK! SCOOPS IS OUT!
BG: Aw hell, somebody check his pulse!

SEB wastes no time, immediately hooking Scoops’ leg tight.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

The arena erupts as the ref’s hand hits the mat.

JC: There’s the pinfall! But remember, folks—it’s not over yet! This is a Texas Deathmatch! Scoops McGee has to fail to get up before a count of ten!

SEB rolls off, chest heaving, sweat glistening as he watches Scoops from the corner, one arm draped over the ropes for support. The official begins the count.

ONE!

TWO!

Scoops’ arm twitches. His fingers claw at the mat.

THREE!

FOUR!

He plants a palm down, shaking his head violently. His teeth grit, the camera catching the deep lines of defiance etched into his face.

FIVE!

SIX!

With a grunt that’s half roar, half groan, Scoops forces himself upright—one knee, then a hand on the rope, then, somehow, to his feet.

JC: Unbelievable! Scoops McGee just beat the count! He’s still in this match!
BG: I ain’t a big Scoops fan, but I will say this about him: You could hit that man with a truck, and he’d still get up to cuss the driver out!

The briefest flicker of disbelief crosses SEB’s face, as he watches Scoops force himself back to his feet…

Scoops’ face is a battlefield—one eye swelling shut, lips split, jaw tightening. Scoops lifts his fists, staggering out of the corner, legs a little shaky, but his fists eager for more…

SEB doesn’t decide to trade punches, instead snapping off a low kick to the thigh, then another, driving home the precision that defines him! Each strike makes Scoops wince, his body jolting with pain, but he refuses to drop.

JC: SEB’s clinical mind on display here! He’s trying to take away the base! If Scoops can’t stand, he can’t swing that hammer of a forearm!

JC: That’s the strategy—break the body, force the count!

But Scoops suddenly lunges forward, with another…

CATTLE PROD!

…

WHAM! CONNECTS! SEB gets knocked for a loop, staggering back into the ropes!

Scoops lets out a guttural shout! He backs up into the ropes… as SEB slowly stumbles forward, Scoops spins looking for a..

DISCUS LARIAT!

…

But SEB ducks! Scoops slings himself past SEB, giving The Empire his back!

SEB’s instincts kick in! He latches Scoops into a waistlock. Scoops’ eyes widen as SEB bridges back—

STAMFORD BRIDGE!

The official drops!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

JC: That’s two! Another pinfall for SEB!

BG: If he turns in a dozen, maybe he gets an acre of Scoops’ farm! But none of it counts one LICK until that pin is followed by a ten-count!

The crowd roars again, anticipating the possible end…

Scoops rolls onto his side, coughing, clutching his ribs. The official begins the ten-count—

ONE!

TWO!

Scoops shoves himself up to his elbows!

THREE!

FOUR!

Swip… Scoops’ arms swing… his legs look like they could give out from under him! But he is UP AT FOUR!

JC: How the hell did Scoops get up FASTER that time?!?

BG: Scoops McGee is one tough sumbitch!

SEB exhales, he runs both hands through his sweat-soaked hair…

Scoops leans back into the corner, his chest heaving, blood on his teeth and a faint grin behind it. He lifts a shaking hand and beckons SEB forward with two crooked fingers.

SEB snorts, before charging out of his corner…

JC: Uh oh! Scoops has backed himself into a corner! And SEB’s headed right for him looking like a runaway train!

He sprints to the opposite corner, the crowd rising to their feet, sensing the match’s crescendo.

He launches himself through the air!

EMPIRE KICK!

…

NO! Scoops ducks low!

WHAM! SEB sails past, crashing upside-down into the turnbuckle with a thud!

JC: What a reversal! SEB plastered himself right into the corner!

Scoops has enough years under his belt to recognize an opening… He charges, grappling the dazed Englishman. With a grunt of effort, he hoists SEB into the air—every muscle straining, his spine arching from decades of punishment endured…

He delivers a…

SCOOP SLAM PILEDRIVER!

…

CONNECTS!

The arena shudders from the impact. SEB’s body slams against the mat, the wind knocked out of him entirely.

Scoops hooks the leg immediately, sweat and spittle flying from his mouth.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

The crowd goes nuts!

JC: Scoops did it! Scoops just scored a pinfall on Sebastian Everett-Bryce!

BG: Gee-ZUS, Jacko! You’re still getting excited like any of these count! Until one of these men fails to respond to a ten-count, these pinfalls are worth as much as a wooden nickel!

The official starts a count over SEB’s fallen body…

ONE!

TWO!

Scoops exhaustedly forcing himself to his feet… before stumbling to hover over SEB. He mutters in his classic McGee drawl, daring SEB to get up, begging him to try and keep going…. His eyes sparkle with mischief and menace, every wrinkle telling the story of decades surviving this kind of punishment.

THREE!

FOUR!

SEB twitches… placing both hands on the mat under him…

FIVE!

SIX!

SEB exhaustedly shoves against the mat… his body slowly starts to lift… as he digs one knee under himself…

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

At eight, SEB gets his other foot under him, staggering back into the ropes!

The crowd goes insane!

By eight, SEB digs deep, finds the last of his resolve, and

JC: Unbelievable! SEB is back up at eight! This man is a machine!

BG: Both these fellas are fighting like the other cracked wise on his mama!

SEB… breathing heavily… locks eyes with Scoops. Sweat pours down SEB’s temples… as he beckons Scoops to come at him…

Scoops… exhausted himself… chuckles… Like after all this fighting, he’s recognized that he’s sharing the ring with a kindred spirit…

Both men, on aching legs, step forward to the center of the ring…

JC: Alright! It all comes down to this! Expect a drawn-out, hellacious scrap as both these m-

WHAM!

SEB fires a lightning-fast high kick into Scoops’ face!

The veteran staggers backward through the ropes, tumbling to the outside.

JC: …Huh. Disregard.

SEB follows his fallen adversary outside, landing carefully onto the padded concrete, stepping around the previously exposed area, every step measured.

BG: SEB knows part of getting that ten-count is keeping the blows rainin’ down. He doesn’t wanna let Scoops take his time getting back in the ring, he wants to take the fight and shove it down McGee’s gullet!

SEB steps tiredly over to McGee, lifting himself off his stomach onto his knees… McGee’s back up!

Just as SEB delivers another kick to the chest! The older man groans, staggering back against a metal post, sweat flying, chest heaving!

With a roar, Scoops summons one last burst of fury and charges…

…

STRAIGHT INTO A SUPERKICK!

Scoops’ head snaps back, legs wobbling, eyes rolling briefly in the haze. He collapses limply against the apron, loopy, every breath shallow and ragged!

JC: Scoops has the heart of a lion and the fight of a Texas Tornado! But it is starting to feel academic here! Every attack Scoops is mustering at this late stage, SEB seems to have a counter for…

SEB reaches for the spent McGee… He wraps a mit around Scoops’ neck, intending to shove him back into the ring…

But, suddenly, with a burst of remaining strength, Scoops drives his hands under SEB’s breastbone!

He heaves the Empire into the air…

ABOVE THE EXPOSED CONCRETE!

[white]JC: OH MY GOD! NOOOOOOO!

BG: YESSSSSS!

URANAGE SLAM ONTO THE EXPOSED CONCRETE!

SEB crashes down with a sickening, unforgiving, bone-jarring impact. Scoops grits his teeth, chest heaving as his aged back arches in protest!

JC: Oh my GAWD… Scoops McGee just hit SEB with a Uranage slam—onto exposed concrete! We haven’t seen Scoops pull off an Uranage since his days touring through Japan!

Brody: That’s it, Jacuinde! That’s what it takes to keep SEB down—pure, unrelenting old-school fury! And the willingness to pull out every trick in your book!

The crowd roars, half horrified, half in awe. SEB lies there, writhing, groaning, struggling to breathe. Scoops collapses onto one knee beside him…

Scoops slams his palm against his knee, shaking it like a mechanic working a stuck piston. Finally, after a few palm strikes, he finds the will to stand back up…

He grabs the quasi-conscious SEB, lifting him with a grunt, using every ounce of his back and legs to roll him under the bottom rope. SEB hits the mat inside, groaning, trying to gather himself.

JC: Scoops, seeking a pinfall after that GNARLY Uranage slam!

Scoops hooks the leg immediately, his chest heaving, eyes narrowing in focus.

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

SEB KICKS OUT!

The crowd gasps audibly, before going absolutely nuts!

[white]JC: …How?! How did SEB kick out of a Uranage slam onto exposed concrete? That’s insane!
BG: I don’t care if it’s diet, exercise or something outta Harry Potter! That Englishman’s got G R I T!

Scoops sits up slowly, shaking his head… His lips curl into a grim smile—part pride, part frustration.

The older man drags himself up to the corner, legs shaking, hands trembling…

And he begins to climb…

JC: Is Scoops going aerial! This isn’t territory Scoops usually ventures into!

BG: McGee’s knees are aching, his back is screaming—but the fire in his eyes pushes him upward! This is fucking AMAZIN’, Jackie boy!

SEB forces himself to a vertical base… and scrambles for the corner…

McGee reaches the top rope, his back to the ring… Just as SEB reaches him with a clubbing forearm to the back!

SEB climbs to the second rope, trying to latch his arms around Scoops’ waist…

WHAM! Scoops sending a decapitating elbow back that catches SEB in the skull!

…

SEB barely clings on… Scoops waits for the Empire to fall…

But SEB surges forward! With a headbutt to the back of Scoops’ head!

Scoops loses his footing, sitting down on the top turnbuckle!

With a desperate roar, SEB clinches onto Scoops’ waist…

And heaves McGee backwards!

SPIDER SUPLEX!

Scoops goes sprawling off the top rope with a THUD!

JC: Oh my! SEB hit the Spider Suplex off the top! We know what comes next! The MARKHAM MISSILE!

SEB climbs to the top rope, chest heaving, sweat dripping, eyes flicking down at Scoops who is already staggering back to his feet. The crowd holds its collective breath…

SEB carefully adjusts his footing, back to the action… Before he leaps!

MOONSAULT HEADBUTT!

…

…

DODGED!

Scoops leaps to the side with what little strength is left in his legs!

SEB lands chest-first on the mat, letting out a guttural grunt as the wind leaves his body. The audience explodes in cheers and gasps simultaneously.

JC: Oh my! SEB gambled and came up empty!

Scoops shoves himself with everything he’s got toward the dazed SEB… He heaves SEB’s skull between his legs… He heaves him onto his shoulders!

…

DYNAMITE BOOOOOOOOOMB!

JC: NO WAY! NO WAY! A DYNAMITE BOMB FROM SCOOPS MCGEE!

SEB is driven hard into the mat, his body slamming with authority. Every muscle seizes, every breath struggles to escape. Scoops collapses atop him immediately, hooking the leg.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Scoops gets the pinfall…

Scoops exhaustedly rolls off SEB, lying on his back…

The official counts!

ONE!

TWO!

SEB looks like he’s been embedded deep into the mat by that massive Dynamite Bomb…

THREE!

FOUR!

…SEB’s arms start to raise up…

JC: No way! Absolutely no way!

FIVE!

SIX!

…Seb exhaustedly tries to turn over on his front…

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

SEB’s arms shove the mat, to try and force himself up…

NINE!

…

But they give out! SEB collapses against the mat!

TEN!

WInner: Scoops McGee!

JC: It’s over… it’s finally over! SEB just couldn’t answer the ten-count!

BG: And the winner of this Texas Deathmatch… give it up for SCOOPS MCGEE!

The crowd erupts into a mixture of awe and disbelief. Scoops raises his bloodied, battered fists, chest heaving, eyes watery but alight with triumph. Every bruise, every scar, every ounce of pain he’s endured in decades of wrestling has culminated in this moment.

TACTILIZING ONE

GAME CHANGER

LIMIT BREAKER

From there, the beat triggers the house lights to illuminate the figure of Larry Tact standing on stage. He's looking down as he hones in for the battle ahead.

JC: Larry Tact has had quite a few championship matches. Always a tough out, sometimes managing to get the win, but he’s just looking for that consistent bit of success.

BG: Tact’s a smart guy, Jack. You’re never having an off night when you’re facing him. With a guy as much natural talent as he does, even in his older age, it’s only going to be a matter of time before one of the titles in this company finds a permanent home around his waist. It could even be tonight…

After a few seconds, Tact whips his head up and trudges to one side of the stage, firing up the fans by pointing towards different sections. He goes to the other side of the stage and beats his chest with a hand before opening his arms to the reaction of the crowd. "THIS IS YOUR SPOTLIGHT!" Larry bellows as the audience hoots and hollers back. He returns to center stage and points to either side of the crowd. The lights cut out except for green, gold, and crimson spotlights highlighting the audience in attendance. Larry makes his way down to the ring, pounding fists with some fans at ringside before hanging onto the middle rope and pulling himself up onto the apron.

Facing the stands, he opens his arms up and puffs his chest out to receive the feverish energy of his supporters. Wiping his boots on the apron, Tact proceeds into the ring. He climbs a turnbuckle and again holds his arms out. “BEST GAME WINS!!!” he exclaims to another pop before descending and making his final preparations for the match.

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

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

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

DING! DING! DING!

15:00
14:59
14:58

JC: And we’re off! Folks, you can cut the tension with a knife here, Television Championship on the line here in our main event, and you can tell these two men have no love lost for each other.

BG: Both men got a lot to prove in this match, of course. Tact’s got some wear and tear to his name but he’s still carving his place out here. Dickie’s the new champ, but does he have what it takes to keep that shiny gold around his waist?

Both men slowly walk up to each other as they come to the center of the ring, mouthing off to each other. Tensions are quickly boiling over as they continue to shout in each other’s faces-

SLAP!

A crack echoes out from across the arena as Dickie slaps Tact across the face before shoving him backwards!

Tact’s face is stunned and paused for a brief moment before he closes his eyes. His fists ball up, a shudder wracks its way through his body, and he glares back towards Dickie…

JC: I get the feeling he might have just made Tact mad, Brody.

BG: Well, these two guys aren’t exactly known for their standout temper, that’s for sure…

TACT SURGES FORWARD TO DROP DICKIE WITH A HARD SHOVE OF HIS OWN!

Dickie rolls backwards over his shoulders to try and bring himself up, but Tact is right there! He delivers a hard knee to the midsection to double Dickie over, followed by a hard shot to the back! Dickie winces as he quickly tries to scurry along the ropes to get away, but another clubbing forearm to the back causes him to double over!

14:27
14:26
14:25

Tact brings Dickie back up to his feet, and quickly Irish Whips him off the ropes. Dickie on the rebound now, Tact with a clothesline, Dickie ducks underneath, continues to run, Dickie on the rebound again, Tact ducks for a back body drop, Dickie turns and rolls over his back onto his feet, Tact turns around-

CHOP!

Another meaty sound of flesh-on-flesh echoes around the arena as Dickie manages to deliver a sickening open-handed chop right to Tact’s chest! Tact winces from the impact, but manages to hold firm as he grits his teeth right back at Dickie!

Another CHOP quickly follows that has Tact backpedaling now, and now he follows it up with a kick to the midsection!

Caught by Tact!

Dickie rises for an enzuigiri!

Tact ducks underneath!

Dickie lands on his foot though!

BUT TACT DROPS HIM RIGHT BACK DOWN WITH A DRAGON SCREW! Dickie lands hard as he holds onto his leg!

14:01
14:00
13:59

JC: We’re very quickly seeing these two strategies develop, coming about from both of these competitors’ tempers. Tact wants this slow, he wants this physical, he’s going to want to use his size and his strength to slow the competition down and prevent the champion from gaining momentum. Dickie’s going to want to pick up the pace though, prevent the aging Tact from being able to keep up and whittle him down over these 15 minutes…

BG: Dickie’s gonna want to do that, though, but it looks like Tact’s got his sights set on his leg. That’s the best way Tact can slow things down, especially with how reliant Dickie is on his high-flying skills.

Tact quickly grabs onto the targeted leg, holding it up as Dickie tries to kick him away in vain! Tact proceeds to drop an elbow right down onto the knee, causing Dickie to wince and huff in pain! Tact rains down more elbows, and Dickie grits his teeth while trying to bear the pain!

Dickie quickly comes alive though, delivering a sharp elbow to the top of Tact’s skull! It manages to stagger the big man, allowing Dickie to forcibly kick him off! Tact rolls off of Dickie, getting to his feet as the champion manages to follow, holding his injured leg while he does so…

Tact advances forward, but Dickie kicks him in the gut! He runs off the ropes again, Tact catches him this time, Tact with a short-arm clothesline, Dickie ducks, Dickie slips behind, Dickie runs in and moves around- TILT-A-WHIRL DDT!

QUICK COVER BY DICKIE!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

JC: Tact came here meaning business tonight. Dickie’s gotta try to protect his leg and keep himself in the game before this could potentially snowball.

BG: Easier said than done though, Jack. Look at Dickie, he’s already limping.

12:45
12:44
12:43

Dickie composes himself, stepping out onto the apron as he looks to the turnbuckle-

BUT TACT IS RIGHT THERE! HE GRABS DICKIE BY THE INJURED LEG BEFORE HE STEPS ONTO THE APRON FULLY!

DRAGON SCREW! RIGHT ON THE ROPE! DICKIE HOWLS IN PAIN AS HE’S FORCED RIGHT BACK INTO THE RING!

BG: And that could cause you to sprain your damn knee! Tact’s got the eye of a killer here tonight!

JC: Those ropes are tied as taut as possible before every show, folks. Taking any sort of major impact on them could be a recipe for disaster, as Dickie Watson is now learning!

Dickie tries to hold onto the ropes for dear life, but Tact forcibly drags Dickie right to the center of the ring! He’s looking to turn him over into a Boston Crab! They’re twisting- twisting-

BUT DICKIE KICKS HIS WAY OUT! Tact has to back up from the boots to his chin!

Dickie reaches towards the ropes… he’s close, he’s got his fingertips on it!

BUT TACT IS RIGHT THERE! He drags Dickie by his ankles right back to the middle of the ring to deny him safety! Dickie tries to kick Tact away, but Tact boots him right in the gut to cut him off!

AND TACT TURNS HIM RIGHT OVER INTO THE BOSTON CRAB!

JC: A move about as old school as it gets, Larry Tact has got that Boston Crab locked on tight! A whole lot of pressure is being applied onto the lower back and legs right about now!

BG: The more this match goes on, Dickie is only painting a bigger target on his legs. He’s going to need to find a way to turn the tides and end this match quick… assuming he can get out of this submission hold in one piece.

Dickie’s body flares up in pain as he pushes up on his palms! His teeth are bared in pain, veins are throbbing in his forehead!

“DICK-IE! DICK-IE! DICK-IE!”

THE FANS ARE TRYING TO WILL DICKIE ON! BUT DICKIE CAN’T HEAR THEM RIGHT NOW! HE CAN’T HEAR THE REF TRYING TO ASK HIM IF HE WANTS TO GIVE UP! DICKIE IS ONLY FOCUSED ON TRYING TO MAKE IT TO THE ROPES IN FRONT OF HIM!

HE’S CLAWING HIS WAY FORWARD!

TACT SEES THAT DICKIE IS GETTING CLOSER! HE FORCIBLY PULLS DICKIE RIGHT BACK TO THE CENTER OF THE RING!

DICKIE TAKES THAT OPPORTUNITY THOUGH! HE KICKS! HE SQUIRMS! HE’S RESISTING WITH EVERYTHING HE’S GOT!

HE’S FORCIBLY TURNING HIMSELF OVER!

TACT GETS TURNED TO FACE DICKIE BEFORE HE EATS A RIGHT HAND! AND ANOTHER! AND ANOTHER!

DICKIE KICKS OUT WITH HIS LEGS TO FORCIBLY SHOVE TACT OFF OF HIM! TACT GOES SAILING BACK INTO THE ROPES!

DICKIE MANAGES TO PRY HIS WAY BACK UP TO HIS FEET AS HE USES THE ROPES FOR SUPPORT!

TACT IS RIGHT THERE THOUGH AS HE’S LUNGING TOWARDS DICKIE!

BUT DICKIE DRAGS THE TOP ROPE UNDERNEATH TO SEND TACT SAILING TO THE OUTSIDE! TACT FALLS OUT AND TRIES TO COME BACK TO THE RING-

ONLY TO EAT A BASEBALL SLIDE TO THE FACE! TACT GOES SAILING BACK INTO THE BARRICADE AS HE HAS TO CATCH HIS BEARINGS!

DICKIE WATSON SEES HIS CHANCE! HE PUNCHES SOME FEELING BACK INTO HIS LEG AS HE GETS HIMSELF FIRED UP! HE RUNS OFF THE ROPES WITH A RAGING FURY IN HIS EYES!

HE LEAPS OVER THE ROPES!

JC: SPRINGBOARD MOONSAULT! Dickie Watson with a picture-perfect dive onto the outside to wipe out both himself and Larry Tact!

BG: No hands needed, either! You could count on one hand the types of athletic specimen in this company capable of pulling something like that off!

10:21
10:20
10:19

Both competitors stir on the outside as the referee shouts at them from inside the ring, trying to restore order in this match. He quickly begins the count, trying to bring them back inside.

ONE!

TWO!

Dickie is on all fours now, reaching to the ring apron for support! He takes a deep breath, pulling himself up! He’s about to get into the ring, but he notices Tact slowly beginning to get up behind him!

Dickie hops up onto the ring apron!

AND HE FLIES AGAIN WITH ANOTHER MOONSAULT!

BUT IT’S CAUGHT BY TACT!

BG: Oh, this is about to get ugly.

JC: Freakish nature on display by Tact here! Despite the amount of mileage he’s carrying, he still knows how to put that 6’6 frame to good use!

TACT RUNS FORWARD ON THE OUTSIDE WITH DICKIE ON HIS SHOULDERS! HUUUUUUUUGE RUNNING POWERSLAM WIPES DICKIE OUT!

THREE!

FOUR!

JC: Tact could probably take a count-out victory right now with how hard Dickie got hurt on the outside.

BG: True, but that wouldn’t win him the title now, would it?

JC: The champion’s advantage, always difficult to try and navigate in times like these…

Tact takes a deep breath as he gets back onto his feet, trying to keep himself cool, calm and collected, but he delivers a sharp boot to Dickie’s head to keep him dazed. He ignores the ref’s attempt to bring the action back into the ring, instead scooping Dickie up and onto his feet.

Tact checks the distance behind him, before hoisting Dickie up and going backwards… before dropping him into a Stun Gun right onto the barricade! Dickie bounces right off of the unforgiving steel, practically seeing stars as Tact hoists him up again!

This time he’s going forward though! Tact charges forward to hit Dickie with a SPINEBUSTER right onto the apron! Dickie practically bounces off like a pinball as he collapses onto the floor!

FIVE!

SIX!

BG: Tact’s a lion right now. He’s picking Dickie apart like he’s meat in there.

JC: The human body isn’t meant to be tossed around like a ragdoll, and yet that’s exactly what Dickie Watson is having to face right now. Nothing illegal so far in this match, but Tact is making sure to bring as much brutality as possible if it means he can keep Dickie down.

BG: Well, when you’ve got championship gold on the line, you can hardly blame a man. Can you?

Before the referee can start his count again, Tact hoists Dickie back up and rolls him into the ring. He quickly rolls after him, cracking his neck as he sizes up his mark.

Dickie rolls over onto his gut, clearly dazed and confused. Tact continues to size him up, staying just behind him so that Dickie doesn’t see him. Dickie gets up onto all fours, holding his neck and back as he gasps in pain. He manages to crawl his way onto all fours, his entire body protesting against him…

He turns around…

Boot to the gut by Tact! He pulls Dickie in! Hoists him up onto his shoulders! POWERBOMB POSITION-!

OH! BUT DICKIE THROWS A RIGHT HAND! THAT MANAGES TO STOP TACT! ANOTHER ONE STAGGERS HIM BACK!

DICKIE ROLLS BACK INTO A HURRICANRANA! TACT GETS WIPED OUT FROM THE IMPACT AS HE ROLLS OVER!

HE TRIES TO GET UP QUICKLY, BUT DICKIE IS JUST A STEP AHEAD OF HIM! HE DOESN’T WASTE A SECOND AS HE LEAPS!

CUUUUUUUUURB STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMP!

DICKIE FALLS BACKWARDS INTO THE PIN!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

BG: That was about as desperate as it got there, Jack! If Dickie waited even a second longer, Tact would have hit the Star Power on Dickie, and that would have been all she wrote!

JC: Not to be, though! Dickie managed to have enough juice in the tank to quickly reverse out and fire back with a Rise to Glory! Though it’s just as impressive that Tact managed to kick out after such a brutal stomp like that!

8:07
8:06
8:05

Dickie gets to his feet right as he sees Tact rolling over and coming to a kneeling position! Dickie doesn’t let him breathe, though! He runs off the ropes and nails Tact with a running basement dropkick that takes him out and rolls him over onto his back!

Dickie quickly follows it up by getting back onto his feet and leaping into a standing Shooting Star press! The fans pop at the display of acrobatics as Dickie is trying his best to even the odds against Tact right now!

Tact manages to crawl to the ropes and pull himself up, getting to the corner to get away from Dickie, but Dickie is already in hot pursuit! A forearm cuts him off as he Irish Whips Tact to the other side!

But Tact reverses! Dickie is the one sent flying into the corner! Tact looks to follow it up with a running clothesline… but Dickie gets his foot up! Tact eats a solid boot as he walks back into the corner, shaking his head as he tries to stay out of Dickie’s range…

But Dickie instead comes onto the top rope and balances across the ropes like a trapeze artist! He gets himself into position and FLIES ACROSS THE RING FOR A DIVING SPLASH THAT TAKES TACT OUT!

BG: Can someone take a measurement of this guy’s vertical?! How the Hell did he pull that off?

JC: No idea, Brody. We know already that Dickie Watson is an athletic freak, but it never fails to amaze just watching the man in action.

Dickie smells blood in the water though! He seizes his chance, finally looking to climb his way to the top turnbuckle! The fans are willing him on as he grins while eyeing up his mark! Dickie straightens himself… AND LEAPS!

360 CORKSCREW MOONSAULT!

IS DENIED AS TACT RAISES HIS KNEES IN TIME!

DICKIE BOUNCES OFF OF TACT AS HE GRABS AT HIS TORSO IN PAIN!

JC: Tough luck there for Dickie Watson! If he hit the Echelon there, he could have been on his way to sealing this win up!

BG: Tact’s a sly dog! He knew what was coming there!

Dickie staggers his way up onto his feet, but Tact is right there! He delivers a boot to the gut, this time having Dickie in position so that he can slam him right back down with a BRAINBUSTER!

Dickie slumps over from the impact! Tact slowly pulls himself up onto his feet, rubbing his chin and jaw before pulling Dickie right back up…

AND CINCHING IN A MILLION DOLLAR DREAM FROM BEHIND!

JC: LARRY TACT TELLING DICKIE, YOU NEEDS TO TACTILIZE YOURSELF! HE’S TRYING TO CHOKE THE LIFE OUT OF HIM, AND HE MIGHT GET WHAT HE’S LOOKING FOR!

BG: Tact’s in the driver’s seat right now! He just needs to hold onto that submission for everything he’s worth!

5:55
5:54
5:53

TACT CINCHES IN THE HOLD DEEPER! DICKIE IS WHEEZING FOR AIR AS HE REACHES FORWARD IN VAIN! THE ROPES ARE TOO FAR!

DICKIE STEPS FORWARD! HE’S TRYING TO GET CLOSER!

TACT DELIVERS A HARD KNEE TO THE BACK THOUGH! HE’S TRYING TO CUT DICKIE OFF!

DICKIE HUNCHES OVER, BUT HE STEPS FORWARD AGAIN!

ANOTHER KNEE TO THE BACK! TACT SINKS THE HOLD IN DEEPER!

DICKIE IS STARTING TO FALL OVER!

TACT SMELLS BLOOD IN THE WATER! HE’S NOT LETTING UP!

JC: This is do or die, ladies and gentlemen! Dickie Watson’s brief championship reign is hanging in the balance right now!

DICKIE LUNGES FORWARD THOUGH!

BG: He’s still moving?!

DICKIE LAUNCHES TACT THROUGH THE ROPES TO BREAK THE HOLD!

TACT CATCHES HIMSELF THOUGH!

DICKIE WHEEZES FOR AIR AS HE PULLS HIMSELF BACK UP!

TACT LUNGES FORWARD WITH A SHOULDER THRUST TO FORCE DICKIE BACK AS TACT COMES RIGHT BACK INTO THE RING!

HE PULLS DICKIE UP!

BUT DICKIE COUNTERS INTO A SMALL PACKAGE!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

JC: That was so close that Dickie could have tasted victory there, Brody! Tact nearly got caught off guard!

BG: It’s a seesaw right now, Jack! Time’s ticking down, and any mistake could spell the end here!

3:35
3:34
3:33

Tact sees the time ticking down on the X-tron, and he knows he’s running out of chances to get the win! He takes a deep breath, he knows he’s got to put an end to this!

He sees Dickie Watson getting up behind him! Tact steps in and delivers a European uppercut that has Dickie staggering back from the impact!

Dickie looks at Tact with every ounce of venom in his veins! AND HE HEADBUTTS TACT RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES!

TACT FALLS TO A KNEE! HE LOOKS STUNNED AS HE SLUMPS DOWN WITH GLASSY EYES!

DICKIE STRAIGHTENS HIMSELF AND TAKES A DEEP BREATH! A SINGLE DROPLET OF BLOOD STREAMS DOWN HIS OWN FOREHEAD!

Dickie brings Tact onto his feet and holds him tight! He lifts him upwards with a roar!

DICKIE’S REVENGE-!

NO! TACT STEPS FORWARD TO CATCH HIS FOOTING BEFORE DICKIE COULD PROPERLY BRING HIM BACK FOR THE LIFTING REVERSE STO! HE DELIVERS A SHARP ELBOW! AND ANOTHER! AND ANOTHER! HE OPENS DICKIE’S GASH FURTHER AS HE HAS TO STEP BACK!

NOW IT’S TACT STEPPING IN! HE KICKS DICKIE IN THE GUT, LOOKS TO HOIST HIM OVER!

URANAGE SUPLEX!

BUT DICKIE REVERSES IT INTO AN ARM DRAG!

TACT QUICKLY GETS BACK ONTO HIS FEET BEFORE RUSHING AHEAD!

BUT DICKIE IS JUST A SPLIT SECOND AHEAD!

AND HE LEAPS INTO THE AIR TO PLANT TACT DOWN WITH A LEAPING STOMP!

JC: CALAMITY INSURANCE! DICKIE MIGHT HAVE CAVED TACT’S CHEST IN WITH THAT STOMP!

BG: HE CAN’T EVEN STAND PROPERLY!

DICKIE SLUMPS OVER FOR THE PIN!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Winner and STILL Television Champion: DICKIE WATSON!

THE REFEREE RUSHES OVER TO CHECK ON BOTH COMPETITORS WHILE DRAPING THE TV TITLE OVER DICKIE’S DOWNED BODY!

JC: What a war we just saw in our main event, ladies and gentlemen! Tact as game of a competitor as usual, but Dickie proved why he won that Television Championship over Sarah Wolf at Relentless, and he showed that his title reign isn’t going to be a mere flash-in-the-pan!

BG: I can’t lie, Jack. I thought Tact had him dead to rights a number of times. But Dickie just knows how to sneak up on you when you least expect it…

Dickie slowly drags himself up to his feet, giving a small nod of respect to the downed Larry Tact before his hand gets raised by the ref! Dickie holds his championship up high, celebrating with the fans as he grins!

BG: Better not change that channel, though! We still got the King’s Address to look forward to!

JC: Oh, joy…

Warfare fades to commercial for one last time.

The arena lights dim.

And then, a spotlight on the stage.

JC: What the heck is this?

Into the light steps a single drummer who begins to rat-a-tat-tat with a slow, marching rhythm.

It speeds up.

And is then joined with the stomping of feet.

More light shines from on high as rows of masked milita-men file out into the Frost Bank Center in perfect beat with the drum. On their backs, the XWF logo is proudly displayed. This is the XWF security team, but the company logo is secondary to another image:

A crown.

BG: I think I know exactly what this is, Jacuinde!

JC: I think I do too.

BG: Can I say the line I always say?

JC: Maybe just wait a second…

The troops stop, lining the aisle to the ring and cresting a defensive wall between the plebs in the crowd and whomever may pass through the entranceway.

The drumming intensifies.

And then… silence.

Light dies.

A solitary blare of a trumper.

And a voice rings out.

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE! PLEASE RISE FOR HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, THE GREATEST WRESTLER ALIVE, THE TOUGHEST SUMMIT IN THE WORLD TO CLIMB, THE GREATEST TOURNAMENT PERFORMER IN XWF HISTORY, THE FIRST EVER BACK-TO-BACK KING OF THE XWF, YA BOI, AND NEEEEEEEEEEEEW XWF UNIVERSAL CHAMPION, THE UNDISPUTED, REIGNING, DEFENDED AND DEFENDING, KING OF THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE… KING KIERAN OF THE HOUSE OF KING! FIRST OF HIS NAME!”

Lights return. Frantic and blinding.

A guitar screams.

“The Gentle Art of Making Enemies” by Faith No More kicks in and eventually The King himself enters the scene.

JC: Okay, go ahead Brody.

BG: THE KING IS HEEEEERRRRREEEEE!

With the crown of the XWF atop his head and the Universal Championship around his waist, the image that Kieran King strikes is one of the most dominant displays the XWF has seen in years.

He strides to the ring, head full of hot air and comforted by his forces that guard the way.

He is, for all intent and purposes, untouchable.

When he enters the ring, he forgoes his usual chicanery. Instead, he just stands in the centre and basks in the conflicted views the crowd reign down upon him. He is simultaneously a veteran completing his story, and an autocrat with no regard for any of his subjects.

Kieran breathes it all in.

From the ceiling, a microphone lowers to him, which he takes willingly—glad he doesn't have to speak to any of the peasantry technicians at ringside.

King Kieran: One king. Zero revolutions.

The raucous crowd continues their mixed response.

King Kieran: A promise made, and a promise kept. And I have the distinct honour to be stepping before you, having worked for fifteen years to pick myself out of the gutter and return all the way to the mountaintop!

Oddly, the crowd starts swinging in Kieran’s favour.

King Kieran: This is the kind of thing that some people can only dream of. And yet… here we are. DREAMS! COME! TRUE!

With his head held high, Kieran appears oddly touched by the response of the San Antonians in attendance.

King Kieran: And I've got to say, fam… I'm so glad I got to be a part of it. I'm so glad that I got to be a part of Dolly Waters's dream of handing the Universal Championship back to its rightful owner!

And there's the turn.

He was fucking with them, and now this crowd has caught on.

King Kieran: The combined suckitude of Dolly Waters and Charlie Nickles has finally served a purpose, because by passing the baton to represent this company to their better, they have played an integral role in restoring the credibility of a championship that has been dragged through the mud thanks to their names and actions. They have righted a wrong.

More importantly…

He unhooks the Universal Championship from around his waist and thrusts it high into the sky.

King Kieran: …I HAVE RIGHTED A WRONG. I have corrected an injustice that was done to me fifteen years ago! And now… not for the first time, I have changed the course of XWF history, and I come to you not as the King of the XWF… not as the Universal Champion… but as the unified KING OF THE UNIVERSE!

ALL HAIL THE KING!

Pyro explodes on the stage, around the ring, and in spirals around the roof of the arena.

It just keeps going and going and going.

Eventually, the pyro fades into confetti raining down. King feigns wiping a tear from his eye at the display that he most certainly arranged for himself.

King Kieran: I've gone beyond what anybody before me has ever done. Dolly Waters's days are numbered and she is FAR FROM reaching 60% of the roster; Charlie Nickles goes to the back of the line; James Shark has gone to the island of irrelevancy; I already beat Isaiah; I already bear SEB. THERE IS NOBODY LEFT to challenge me!

So here’s where I get fulfill ONE MORE PROMISE. Because at May Day, I didn't just say I was coming for the Universal Championship. I said I was going to win it, and RUIN EVERYONE’S DAY by leaving with the title.

So… while you all bask in my glory, don't forget to check out my ass as I walk right out the door and leave you all with NOTHING to fight over.

See you in a few months… if I can be bothered. Or if there’s anybody worth my time.

Kieran drops the microphone.

JC: Wait a minute! Our new champ is not doing what I think he's doing, is he?

BG: His Majesty is a man of his word!

JC: We can't have a part-time Universal Champion!

BG: Are you going to stop him?

Suddenly…

The sound of “Gas! Gas Gas!” by Manuel blares throughout the speakers as the X-Tron is suddenly covered with… comic sans memes and stock graphs going up!

JC: Oh wow! It seems the Trillionaires are here to attend Kieran’s going-away party! And they might just have some words to the contrary!

BG: Why the hell are you excited, Jacko? Don’t you hate the Trillionaires even more than King Kieran?

JC: …Oh, yeah. Come to think of it, I don’t think I like anyone on-screen right now!

Elon Musk emerges from behind the curtain, a microphone in his hand, flanked by Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg…

Kieran walks toward the ropes, dangling an arm over the top rope… letting his Universal title hang on his shoulder, like a King waiting the appropriate show of fealty from visiting dignitaries…

But, interestingly, the Trillionaires initially don’t seem to pay him any mind… At first, they seem more pre-occupied with the masked XWF security team… which is still hanging around the ramp… standing imposingly as a backdrop for Kieran’s exit speech.

Elon Musk: Who approved this?

He gestures at the team, just loud enough for the microphone to pick up… Both Bezos and Zuckerberg shrug, looking at each other, and then shrug again.

Elon Musk: Inefficient. Why do we have this many security personnel securing the barricade? That’s what the barricade is for!

Elon waves his hand dismissively, as he fishes out his phone and presses a few buttons.

Elon Musk: Half of you are fired. The rest of you, I just sent an email demanding to know what part of the arena you’re securing. Reply immediately. If TWO of you secure the same part of the building? Both of you are fired!

…The security personnel, previously looking like a well-trained unit, are immediately scattered and broken into searching for some unique part of the arena to secure… naturally leaving the barricade exposed.

Elon Musk: Much better. Much more efficient.

Elon sniffs with approval, before moving down the ramp, closer to the King…

JC: This is what we were afraid of! The Trillionaires are running the show and they are making terrible decisions!

BG: They are making exciting and EFFICIENT decisions, Jacko! I, for one, welcome our Trillionaire overlords! They only make the best decisions, how else could they have made their money!

Musk, Bezos, and Zuckerberg reach the bottom of the ramp, circling the ring… Before stopping at the announce table.

BG: Hey Boss! Over here! I voted for you!

JC: Oh God, Brody, you’re going to hurt your back prostrating yourself like that…

Elon squints at the announce team. He points at one… then the other…

Elon Musk: Two ring announcers? What, one for each of my ears? Heheheh…

Elon elbows Zuckerberg…

Mark Zuckerberg: Heheh, fo’ shizzle my trillionizzle! It's wiggity wiggity whack! Right Jeff?

Jeff Bezos: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

[Image: risa-bezos-speedball.gif]

…Both Elon and Zuck look perturbed by Bezos’ naturally villainous cackle!

JC: Oh dear…

BG: Hahaha! Hope you enjoy the unemployment line, Jacko! It sounds like the Trillionaires think a trained chimp with a NeuralLink implant could do y-

Elon points at Brody.

Elon Musk: Fired.

…

BG: …Scuzi?

Elon Musk: Take him away.

Immediately, two security guards grab Brody under the arms!

BG: Wait! You can’t do this! I never thought these changes would affect me!

Brody is dragged away back up the ramp by two security personnel.

…Elon holds up his hands, creating a little frame… looking at just Jacuinde on the announce table… an empty chair beside him.

JC: …If I hold very still, maybe he won’t see me…

Elon Musk: Well drat, now the symmetry is off…

Elon looks back at Zuck and Bezos.

Elon Musk: I dunno, what do you two think?

Bezos and Zuck look at each other…

Mark Zuckerberg: Rogan?

Bezos nods.

Jeff Bezos: Rogan.

Elon touches his forehead like he should have thought of that.

Elon Musk: Rogan!

Musk snaps his fingers.

…Nigh immediately, next to Jacuinde is Joe Rogan.

JC: Ah! What the fuck! Where did you come from?

JR: Dude… I don’t even know, man. One second I’m in my studio talking in Austin about elk meat and neural networks, and the next—boom—I’m here. Like, I blinked and reality skipped a frame. You ever experience that? Like the simulation just… loaded a new scene? I think I might’ve just phased in from another dimension or something. Jamie, pull that up—see if there’s a clip of me appearing out of nowhere, bro.

JC: …Jamie? Who are you talking to?

JR: …Whoa. Where’d you come from?

The Trillionaires survey the scene around the ring, seemingly please…

Before turning their attention to the ring…

The King, watching the scene with great interest, pushes back from the ropes and… invites them in?

The Trillionaire Triumvirate glance at each other before accepting the offer and entering the ring.

King Kieran: It's good to have some brilliant minds finally running this place. See, the old crowd were idiots. But… useful idiots. Useful in the sense that I have a very, very, very good deal in terms of contractual perks. For example…

Kieran snaps his fingers.

Suddenly, that old security team leaps over the barricade once again and surround the ring.

King Kieran: They're not yours to fire. They're mine. And you're paying for them.

Elon scoffs.

Elon Musk: You have that in a contract?

Kieran nods.

King Kieran: TOMMY!

Tommy Gunn appears from nowhere and hands Kieran a piece of paper, which he then hands over to Musk.

Musk stares at it blankly.

He then hands it over to Zuck who… eats it?

Mark Zuckerberg (threw chomps of paper): Oh dude you're so screwed now! Hahaha! I totally just ate your contract, homeslice!

King Kieran: …That was a copy.

…Elon holds his hand out to Zuck, who regurgitates the contract into… what can best be described as a ball of illegible clauses… Like a hairball made of legalese…

…Elon nods, pretending to understand the… saliva-covered contract globe.

Elon Musk: Yes, well, my attorneys will work out the finer details for us…

Now, you said something… just a moment ago… That I couldn’t do something? That I… couldn’t… fire your security guards?

Kieran squints, thinking back on what he said.

King Kieran: …No? I don’t think YA BOI said those words. But, that *is* an accurate statement.

Elon Musk: Ooooooh, see…

Elon gets a glint in his eyes.

Elon Musk: I don’t like that. I don’t like being told that I can’t do something.

Elon looks back at Zuck and Bezos.

Elon Musk: Do you like it, boys?

Zuck is still coughing up bits of paper as Bezos tries to give him the heimlich…

Elon Musk: No.

Elon turns around like they actually supported what he was saying.

Elon Musk: No, we don’t. I didn’t like being told I couldn’t buy Twitter. And now I own Twitter.

Jeff Bezos: Weren’t you forced to buy Twitter after you made an offer you tried to back out of?

Elon Musk: NOT NOW, JEFF.

Kieran steps closer and drops his voice.

King Kieran: Look, I get it. I don't like being told I can't do stuff either. That's why any time I do, I go ahead and do it anyway. Which… in turn…

His voice rises back up.

King Kieran: …is why I'm the freaking KING OF THE UNIVERSE! And why, just as I said I would… I’m leaving with this belt. And if you really want to be told you can't do something… well, you can't stop me. But you can go ahead and suck it!

Elon Musk: Oh! YOU are the one who will be sucking whatever *it* is!

Elon pulls out his cellphone and waves at the other Trillionaires…

They gather around as it rings…

Elon Musk:...Hello, Maury! My lawyer? Pull up Kieran King’s contract out of the XWF_contracts folder I keep on my desktop!

…

Elon nods!

Elon Musk: Perfect! You found it! Okay, now, read me the part where it says I can fire his security guards!

…

Elon gets a look on his face

Elon Musk: What do you mean I CAN’T?!?

…

Elon Musk: Well, then I’ll fire HIM!

…

Elob Musk: I CAN’T FIRE THE UNIVERSAL CHAMPION!?!?

JC: This conversation probably should have been handled privately… and not in the ring in front of a capacity crowd and a sold-out audience.

JR: Content’s King! Eyes on the product! These are the sort of connections you make when you take my omega-3 health supplements, guys, I can taste color, I’m dropping a promo code on your screen…

Elon Musk: WELL WHAT CAN I DO, MAURY!?!?

…

The sound of pages in the contract flipping…

…

Elon goes from furious… to listening…

…

To… intrigued?

Elon Musk: Really? I can do THAT?

…

…Elon gets a wide smile on his face.

Elon Musk: What would I do without you, Maury…

Click.

Elon Musk: I just got off the phone with my attorney, who just reviewed the contract you handed us…

King Kieran: The one your pal back there tried to scarf down!

Elon Musk: The same. And it turns out… You’re right! I can’t fire your security guards!

King Kieran smiles confidently, crossing his arms…

Elon Musk: And I can’t fire YOU… while you have THAT!

Musk points at the Universal title on Kieran’s shoulder.

…

Elon Musk: What I CAN do… BECAUSE you have that!... Is I can MAKE you defend your Universal title at the next Pay-Per-View!

…

Kieran snorts.

Elon Musk: What’s so funny?

King Kieran: Dude. The next PPV is WarGames. No Uni champ has defended the title there in… ever! Nice try… but I’m picking the perfect moment to skate out!

…

Elon Musk: Nope!

In fact! AT WARGAMES! THE UNIVERSAL TITLE WILL BE ON THE LINE!”

IN!

WARGAMES!

JC: What?!?

JR: Oh man, this is crazy… I know like half the words people are saying right now, but it seems like something out there is happening…

The crowd is going nuts, as Kieran sees the seriousness on Elon’s face and realizes he means it.

Elon Musk: IN FACT, IN FACT! Because WarGames has been a cycle off for all champions before… And because I just bought this fucking company… (with my two associates)... and I want as many eyes on it to INCREASE ITS VALUE…

ALL TITLES WILL BE ON THE LINE AT WARGAMES?!?!?

JC: What?!?! All titles? What does that mean?!?

King quietly seethes as he looks from Musk, to Bezos, to Zuck, and back to Musk.

King Kieran: You know… I used to be a big fan of yours, Ellie. Hell, ‘improving efficiency? My dawg, I just simplified the hierarchy of championships by becoming King AND Universal Champion! That's efficient! But what I don't get…

…is what's so efficient about having three of you in charge… instead of just one?

Lighting quick, King Kieran sends a superkick flying into the face of Mark Zuckerberg who crashes to the ground!

Bezos quickly jumps into help by trying to pour the blood of a virgin sacrifice down Zuck's throat, as King bails from the ring.

His security team wraps around him as he backs up the ramp.

King Kieran: I’ve said it a hundred times before… the XWF has only ONE KING. Now THAT is efficient!

He thrusts the Universal Champion above his head in one hand, and the crown in the other.

JC: KIERAN KING JUST WIPED OUT ONE OF OUR NEW OWNERS! AND WE JUST FOUND OUT THAT ALL TITLES WILL BE ON THE LINE INSIDE OF WAR GAMES! THAT'S ALL WE HAVE TIME FOR, BUT WHAT COULD POSSIBLY HAPPEN NEXT?!

TUNE INTO ANARCHY THIS THURSDAY, AND I'LL BE BACK IN TWO WEEKS TIME WITH…I guess Joe Rogan?

JR: …Bro, you wanna try some Alpha Brain?

SPECIAL THANKS TO...

MATCH WRITERS
Peter Principle
Liam Desmond
'Big' Dick Lichter

SEGMENT WRITERS
Centurion
Kieran King

AND EVERYONE WHO RP'D!

]]>

October - 6 - 2025

LIVE FROM FROST BANK CENTER

SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

Betsy Granger
- vs -
Latoya Hixx
Singles

Barney Green
- vs -
“Psycho” Solomon
X-Treme Rules

Jennie Nickles
- vs -
Dwayne “The Grok” Johnson
Singles

Tatiana Jolee
- vs -
Amber Mansley
Singles

Atara Raven
- vs -
John Black
Ladder Match

Scoops McGee
- vs -
Sebastian Everett-Bryce
Texas Death Match
In order to win, a competitor must first pin their opponent and then ensure they fail to respond to a 10-count to win.

JC: Folks, there’s a lot of narratives! There’s a lot of energy coming straight out of Relentless weekend, funneled directly into this GRUDGE MATCH!

Barney Green
- vs -
’Psycho’ Solomon
X-Treme Rules

Winner: ‘Psycho’ Solomon

BACKSTAGE

Jennie Nickles
- vs -
Dwayne ‘The Grok’ Johnson
Singles

WINNER: Jennie Nickles

LOADING DOCKS

Tatiana Jolee
- vs -
Amber Mansley
Singles

Winner - Tatiana Jolee

PARKING GARAGE - SECOND FLOOR

Atara Raven
- vs -
John Black
Ladder Match

Winner: John Black

Scoops McGee
- vs -
Sebastian Everett-Bryce
Texas Death Match
In order to win, a competitor must first pin their opponent and then ensure they fail to respond to a 10-count to win.

WInner: Scoops McGee!

TACTILIZING ONE

GAME CHANGER

LIMIT BREAKER

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

DING! DING! DING!

15:00
14:59
14:58

14:27
14:26
14:25

14:01
14:00
13:59

12:45
12:44
12:43

10:21
10:20
10:19

8:07
8:06
8:05

5:55
5:54
5:53

3:35
3:34
3:33

Winner and STILL Television Champion: DICKIE WATSON!

SPECIAL THANKS TO...

MATCH WRITERS
Peter Principle
Liam Desmond
'Big' Dick Lichter

SEGMENT WRITERS
Centurion
Kieran King

AND EVERYONE WHO RP'D!

]]> <![CDATA[WARFARE - September 1st, 2025]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49238 Mon, 01 Sep 2025 20:07:17 -0700 Peter Principle]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49238

September - 1 - 2025

LIVE FROM STATE FARM ARENA

ATLANTA, GEORGIA

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Corey Black

Latoya Hixx
- vs -
Larry Tact

Bobby Bourbon
- vs -
Isaiah King

Charlie Nickles
- vs -
Maraeth

Warfare kicks off with “The Gentle Art of Making Enemies” ripping through State Farm Arena.

BG: THE KING IS HERE!

JC: Wow, okay, settle down, Brodie. I guess here we go! I'm Jacuinde, this is Brodie—welcome to Warfare!

Dressed in slacks, boat shoes, and a loose-hanging button-down shirt, Kieran King steps out onto the stage. But the most striking part of his attire is the crown of the XWF sitting atop his head—his to claim through trial by combat, and yet rarely seen over the past few weeks.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the REEEIGNNNNING and DEFENDED King of the XWF, the GREATEST TOURNAMENT PERFORMER IN XWF HISTORY, the GREATEST WRESTLER ALIVE TODAY, and the alleged NEXT UNIVERSAL CHAMPION…”

King looks clearly perturbed by the word ‘alleged’ being used in the script he definitely handed to the ring announcer. The announcer continues on with their job anyway.

“KIIIIIIIIING… KIIEEEEERRRAAAAAN!!!!”

His walk to the ring is deliberate—slower than normal but not to a crawl. He doesn't mug for or jaw with the crowd. Instead he keeps a laser focus on the ring, and strides up the steps before taking centre stage.

All the showmanship he needs rests upon his head, glimmering as lights from above dance off his crown in a magnificent splendour.

Even when the lights stop, the regal radiance is undeniable.

Yet King's face carries none of its usual pomp and circumstance.

King Kieran: There is a problem in my kingdom. Well… actually… there are two. But if there are any problems in my kingdom, then there are problems in YOURS too.

He gestures madly out to the crowd.

King Kieran: One of those problems is a naïve twenty-three year-old IDIOT holding onto the thing that I've been waiting FIFTEEN YEARS to reclaim. But this kingdom… OUR kingdom… will be rid of the Dolly Waters problem not long after Relentless, when she FAILS her little side quest and YA BOI here runs away with the Universal Championship.

Buuuut… a funny thing happened on the way to Miami to kick Dolly Waters's ass. And that funny thing was the idea that somehow Charlie Nickles deserves to breathe the same air as me. Now don't get me wrong… I'm a fan of his wanton waylaying of our dear Universal Champion. That's the kind of freedom that this land is all about, you know what I mean? But where I draw the line is if someone exercising THEIR freedoms gets in the way of ME and MINE. Namely… my reclaiming of the Universal Championship. So… if I'm going to solve the Dolly issue at Relentless, and yet Charlie keeps rearing his head… then I figure I should solve the Charlie Nickles problem right now.

He beckons to the back.

King Kieran: CHARLIE NICKLES… YOU ARE HEREBY GRANTED AN AUDIENCE WITH YOUR KING. Get your ass out here.

JC: Those are some big words from the King of the XWF!

BG: Show some respect! That’s the back-to-back, REIGNING, and DEFENDED King of the XWF you’re talking about!

JC: Well either way, I’m not sure it’s the wisest idea to call out Warfare’s Acting General Manager like this! That Nickles guy is known for having a few coins loose!

THE CORPORATION’s theme song blares through the speakers as King Kieran waits inside the ring with a snarl. A burst of pyro shoots off from the stage, but no one steps out from the back to meet it. The crowd watches with hushed confusion.

Kieran King: Come on, Chuckie! Don’t you know that it's unwise to make a King wait?

Suddenly, the X-tron COMES TO LIFE!

A burst of static appears on the X-tron, and then, we see CHARLIE NICKLES LIVE ON SCREEN!

The Acting GM is dressed in a full-black suit, with a loosened tie to match and a light gray shirt that’s unbuttoned around the collar. And he’s seated next to the window on an airplane, with a designer suitcase in the chair beside him.

Charlie Nickles: Oh my God, I am so sorry Kieran! This is so unprofessional of me.

Charlie places the back of his hand on his head, feigning dismay.

Charlie Nickles: I know you wanted to have some little shindig at the start of the show, but frankly, I’ve just gotten so busy with running the company you claim to be King of- that I’m still on my way out to Atlanta!

I was stuck out in beautiful, sunny California all week! Boy, how time flies when you’re not living in some shithole state!

And my flight to the shithole is about to touch down…

Charlie looks down at his diamond-studded watch, then back to the camera with a smirk. The crowd boos vigorously when Charlie calls their shithole state a shithole state.

Charlie Nickles: In about ten minutes, so we gotta’ make this quick!

JC: Wait, what the hell was the Acting General Manager doing in California?! He’s supposed to have a match tonight!

BG: Well you heard him! He said he’s been busy running the corporate side of the XWF’s operations!

JC: What are their operations doing out in California?!

BG: Well, you know….operating!

The crowd boos vigorously as Charlie Nickles is seen flying into the Atlanta metropolitan area up on the X-tron. If you squint your eyes and look closely at the background, you can make out the shape of the State Farm Center on the ground!

Charlie Nickles: I was in and out of meetings with hot super model babes all week, but nevertheless Kieran, I did want to take some time out of my busy schedule to speak with you personally, just 1-on-1 about what happened between us last Warfare.

JC: Wait, does Charlie think he’s on a private call with Kieran?!

Charlie leans forward as he addresses Kieran personally, moving his designer suitcase out of the way so he can more clearly ‘face’ him.

Charlie Nickles: The way you worked alongside my Corporate Associates to stomp Dolly Waters into the mud was a thing of beauty. You looked so great alongside Matthias Syn and The Corporate Titans. Honestly? It was picture perfect, watching you and “The Grok” fight side-by-side. You were so in sync with that chatbot, I couldn’t even tell who was who half the time!

It took me a while to come to grips with it, but upon deep reflection…

I think you’d be a perfect candidate to join The Corporation!

As a JUNIOR Associate, of course….we already have another Senior Associate slated for onboarding at Relentless, you know how these things work.

The crowd boos at the offer as Kieran King steps back, equal parts offended and disgusted by the lowly proposition.

Charlie Nickles: And Kieran, everyone knows that I love making deals.

So to sweeten the pot, as if just being beneath my glorious banner of leadership was somehow not enough for you-

I’m willing to offer you the chance of a lifetime.

Well, YOUR lifetime at least.

If you sign your name on my dotted line…..

I’ll let you headline night 3 of Relentless against Dolly Waters, as The Corporation’s chosen pawn!

FUCK!

I mean, Chosen -ONE-!

So whaddya’ say, Kieran?

Do we have a deal?

The Nickleman bares a cocky smirk as he sticks a hand out towards the screen, clearly attempting to ‘shake’ Kieran’s hand through the X-tron, while flying a thousand miles overhead.

Just then, a smile cracks onto Kieran's face.

Kieran King: Sure!

The life is sapped out of the arena and the crowd falls into a stunned silence.

Even Charlie is confused!

Kieran King: …On one condition. Charlie Nickles hereby resigns from the XWF in all capacities - in front of the ring and behind the scenes. And every new signee, especially those under a mask or who have otherwise hidden their identity must stand before ME—in public—to prove they're not Charlie Nickles. If Charlie Nickles ever returns to the XWF, he will be forced to commit whatever the dishonourable version of hari-kiri is and nobody will ever be bothered by him again.

Sound like a fair deal?

Charlie throws his hands up on the screen, spiraling into a fit of rage inside his airplane!

Charlie Nickles: Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?! That’s a low-ball offer if I’ve ever fuckin’ heard one!

FINE!

You want to turn your nose up at me and my Corporation? You want to keep-on-keeping on, just playing ‘make-believe’ King?

Then I’m going to have to show you who REALLY runs the show!

The Nickleman leans back in his seat with a wild-eyed grin. He snaps his fingers once…

And then suddenly, a swarm of XWF security appears on stage! Led by the XWF’s Head of Security, Tommy Gunn!

Charlie Nickles: Get him, boys! Shove that Burger King crown straight up his ass!

Kieran King steps back as the XWF security personnel charge down the ramp and slide into the ring, with Tommy Gunn at the front of the fray!

JC: The XWF Head of Security is about to go 12-on-1 with the King of the XWF! Our ‘dear leader’ seems to be making a habit out of getting himself into situations like this.

BG: Tommy’s leaning in for the first blow- oh no, wait a second…

JC: Oh my god! The XWF Head of Security is BOWING to Kieran King!

The audience goes crazy as the XWF security team take a knee in front of Kieran King, with Tommy Gunn dropping down first, and the rest of the guards dropping down one-at-a-time right after.

Kieran King steps forward as he stares into Charlie’s eyes on the X-tron, a glorious smirk plastered to the King’s face as Charlie is driven to hysterics by the sudden betrayal of Warfare’s security team! The Nickleman rips out the tray from the seat in front of him!

Charlie Nickles: You worthless pieces of shit! All of you! All of you are getting fired when I touch down in Atlanta!

SO BE IT!

If my security refuses to get rid of you, then I’ll just do the damn job myself!

And if our ‘King’ refuses to win the XWF Universal Championship back for The Corporation at Relentless...then he can sit this Relentless out, just like he’s sat out every other show for the last 15 years!

AND I’LL WIN THAT MOTHERFUCKIN’ BELT MY DAMN SELF!

The feed on the X-tron quickly cuts to static as The Nickleman bashes the camera in with the airplane’s food tray!

JC: Wait a second, did Charlie Nickles just book himself into the Main Event of Relentless Night 3?!

BG: That’s what it sounds like, and as the Acting General Manager, who can even stop him?!

Back inside the ring, the XWF security team slowly rises back to their feet as Kieran King releases them from their kneeling position.

JC: Well Brody, I think I know one person who’s going to try!

Kieran King stares a burning hole into the center of the X-tron, right where Charlie’s beady eyes were just plastered a moment ago. With the XWF security team by his side, Kieran King’s theme music kicks on once more as he gracefully exits the ring.

BG: We have to cut to a quick commercial break, but don’t go anywhere folks, because WARFARE is going to be right back with our BANGER of an opening match….DICKIE WATSON VERSUS COREY BLACK!

JC: Now that’s a match you won’t want to miss!

JC: Folks, we’re just about to kick off with our first match of th-

Sarah Wolf appears as she turns a corner.

JC: …Wait, what’s this?

A New Orleans Saint’s cap fit snug to her head elicits a reaction from the crowd who is seeing this on the live feed. In her hands is a black box with a dark red ribbon wrapped about it neatly. Sarah walks into an office, and finds a frail woman with a clipboard and files in her arms. She tries to excuse herself, but Sarah remains in her path despite the directions she chooses.

“Do you work for Warfare? Or do you also work at Anarchy?”

“I’m a-”

“That’s an explanation. Not what I want. Do you or do you not go to both locations?”

“I do.”

“Good. You know who 36 is?”

“He’s one of th-”

“Perfect. Give him this. Tell him it’s from me. No strings attached. For now, obviously.”

Sarah pushes the box into the woman’s chest, almost causing her to drop all of her files, and etc.

“What’s in here?” the woman asks, clearly concerned about safety.

Sarah stops in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder, a smile easing across her face, and a glint in her eye. “A choice.”

JC: Folks, welcome back! Lots of mysterious goings on! Lot of excitement going into Relentless, but it’s finally time for our first match of the ni-

Before we’re treated to the first match…

JC: OH C’MON!

We return from a commercial break to a locker room in the back. The camera pans the faces of several notable stars. Some standing with crossed arms, others seated in silence. Some look curious, others indifferent, a few are clearly skeptical… but all are listening.

The camera turns…

…and lands on one person, standing calmly, quietly.

It’s the Universal Champion, Dolly Waters!

We can hear the audience erupting with applause through the arena walls.

Her expression is cool, almost serene… like the festering eye of the storm. But when she speaks?

There’s a fire raging in her tone.

We just watched the acting “General Manager” of this company shoehorn himself into the main event of Relentless.

We just watched a man who viciously attacks, berates, and belittles every single one of you in this room tonight be offered a title shot… not because he believes he’s earned it, he could care less about earning anything… but because he believes he and he alone has a right to rule this company. To rule each and every one of you.

And because he’s playing nice with the powers that be? He’s been granted that.

This is what we’re fighting against.

She scans the room, letting the words hang,

Now I didn’t claw my way back from concussions, torn ACLs, and a decade of disrespect just to sit quietly while people like Charlie Nickles spit in our faces and call it a ‘business decision’.

This company has been built by the wrestlers who bled for it… not spoiled, absent Kings and absent executives who booked their vacations while ducking the fight.

You wanna know what The Union is fighting fer?

It’s fer’ *us*. All of us.

The ones who’ve worked ourselves to the bone while the same handful of corporate-picked poster children pass championships around like designer drugs and party favors.

The ones who don’t get multi-million dollar contracts and corporate lawyers.

The ones who ain’t “invited” to the table unless they come crawling.

She gestures to the wrestlers in front of her.

We don’t need a King.
We don’t need a God.
And we damn sure don’t need a Corporation to tell us who’s worthy.

We ain’t just the talent of the XWF… We’re the goddamn foundation.

And if they want to keep building up glass towers on our backs, it’s time we start shaking the ground.

She steps forward, pacing slowly. Looking into the eyes of the XWF roster who has assembled before her.

I ain’t asking for loyalty to me. I’m asking for loyalty to each other.

Because if we don’t stand together…

…we get picked off. One. By. One.

Dolly takes a breath. The crowd of wrestlers looking on, uneasy. Some inspired? Others clearly uncertain.

There’s a beat.

And then they begin to leave. Some quietly. Some with glances. A few offer nods of solidarity.

But eventually, the room empties.

Dolly exhales, alone now.

She picks up her Universal Title from a bench beside her. She slings it over her shoulder and when she turns to leave…

Tommy Gunn is standing in the doorway.

Behind him?

Nearly a dozen members of King Kieran’s newly loyal XWF Security forces. All in riot gear.

Yer’ kidding me, right?

Tommy just smirks

“No ma’am. Orders from the top. The King isn’t a big fan of sedition.”

The security team storms forward.

Dolly swings first, dropping one with the title.

But she’s quickly overwhelmed.

Dragged down. Kicked. Beaten. Boots landing on her back and arms and knees.

A baton smashes down on her ribs.

JC: What in the hell is this?! That’s OUR Universal Champion! What kind of message is this company sending?!

BG: Looks like the King’s law is in effect, Jackie! And right now, sedition is a crime!

Tommy Gunn crouches down beside Dolly, blood running from her mouth.

“King says you might be walking into Relentless…

…but you won’t be walking out.”

The feed abruptly cuts.

Back to commercial.

JC: Folks I’ve been assured… PROMISED EVEN… by the production team, that the next thing you’re going to see is our first match of the night!

Dickie Watson emerges from his dressing room, ready for the opening bout against Corey Black.

JC: And there he is! Dickie Watson, in our first match will be f-... Wait…

Sarah Wolf appears from behind him, watching him as he walks away. She ducks into his dressing room as Dickie turns a corner. Left with the choice between following Dickie and seeing what Sarah is up to, someone makes the wrong choice and follows Dickie on his way to the ring,

JC: …Mysterious.

JC: Folks, this next match we’re going to see a rematch between two of the finest competitors in the wrestling world, who went toe-to-toe at Smashed 2 in Barcelona!

BG: They battled to a time limit draw, but they put on a SHOW-STEALER, Jacko! But, if you wanna see this tie broken, I’ve heard personally from XWF Warfare GM Principle’s desk… No time limit! Tonight, we WILL have a winner!

State Farm Arena is on the verge of a riot. The match hasn’t even started and there’s already a dueling fan chant!

*WE WANT WATSON!*

*CO*REY*BLACK!*

*WE WANT WATSON!*

*CO*REY*BLACK!*

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

The lights in the arena fade slowly to black. The opening tones of "I Would Die 4 U" by Prince and The Revolution blast from the PA, sending the crowd to their feet. They scream out the lyrics as Corey Black emerges from the back, walking out onto the stage with intent, bathed in a white light while purple ones circle the arena. He is wearing a hooded dark denim vest that has metal band patches all over it and a large Pantheon logo back patch. Corey stands at the top of the ramp, looking out into the frenzy of dancing and singing attendees, nodding his approval. He makes his way down the ramp, taking his time to survey the landscape around him and get himself a good look at the ring before him.

JC: Speaking of the Corporation… Charlie and Syn absolutely STOLE a match from Corey Black last Warfare, beating him down when he had the match in hand!

BG: Black seemed none too pleased with the Corporation… or the XWF at large for letting those two run roughshod on him!

JC: Black has something to prove here tonight! And he might just punch straight through Watson to ensure that point is proven!

As he reaches it, Corey slides in under the bottom rope and pops to his feet, unleashing a roar and throwing the devil horns into the air toward the hard cam. He takes the vest off and drops it to ringside before heading to his corner and crouching down, waiting for the match to begin.

…

DING DING!

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Corey Black
Singles

The moment the bell rings, the two begin circling…

JC: Black taking a more intentional, measured opening than in Barcelona… What do you think the thought is there, Brody?

BG: Watching back the tape from Spain, Black’s strategy of comin’ out the gates with two fists a-swingin’ only played into Watson’s hands, as Dickie clipped him with quick kicks! Black’s decided he’s better off choosin’ his moments!

Corey exhales through his nose, eyes narrow. It’s clear this strategy is much less his preference, but he maintains his guard, steps measured, testing distance, trying to use footwork to sneak into grappling distance…

In response, Dickie drops his stance lower, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes scanning Corey’s hips, working to keep Corey moving.

JC: Corey obviously took notes on how Dickie managed to frustrate his offensive efforts in Barcelona… But, there’s virtually no one in the industry better at frustrating opponents than Dickie Watson!

Corey finally shoots forward, collar-and-elbow!

Dickie catches his arms and the two jockey for control!

JC: Here we go! We started with striking in Barcelona, we’re going straight to grappling in Atlanta!

Corey’s jaw tightens, arms flexing as he tries to bully Dickie backward. Dickie grimaces, his ribs compressing, as the larger Black drives him backward toward the corner!

But instead of twisting free, he suddenly drops weight, his face flashing focus, and pulls Corey down into a rolling crucifix pin.

ONE!

T-NO!

Corey’s eyes go wide, brows leaping in shock. He kicks free just after one, scrambling up with a scowl. The crowd pops — Dickie nearly stole it in seconds.

Corey slaps the mat with his palm, then smirks, lips curling like he almost respects the trick, before resuming the circling… But faster!

Both Watson and Black stand eye-to-eye with one another, barely inches apart.

Black shoves Watson, who reels back to the ropes!

Watson rushes back, ducking a clothesline from Black!

Watson off the opposite ropes, and Black goes low for the back body drop!

Watson somersaults over Black!

No!

Black stands, catching Watson!

Watson with a head-scissors take down to Black!

Black rolls through with the momentum, and comes to his feet!

Both competitors pivot and face each other, giving pause to counter the other!

BG: Listen to this crowd, Jackie!

JC: It's unreal, Brody!

*WE WANT WATSON!*

*CO*REY*BLACK!*

*WE WANT WATSON!*

*CO*REY*BLACK!*

Watson rushes Black!

Black with a hip toss, sending Watson to the mat.

Watson back to their feet, but Black throws another hip toss!

Black with an elbow drop, but Watson rolls out of the way

Watson to their feet, and Black rises. Watson with a spinning wheel kick to Black!

Black absorbs the blow, and when Watson is back to their feet, Black with an elbow strike to Watson!

Watson with a knee lift to Black

Black with an elbow to Watson

Black follows up with vertical suplex

Black with an elbow drop that lands

Black to the top rope

BG: High risk offense coming from Corey Black!

JC: Watson has it scouted!

Black leaps, but Watson raises both knees

Black landing on the extended knees of Watson!

Watson to their feet, and takes to the top rope!

THE ECHELON!

Watson with the cover!

1…

2…

Black kicks out!

Watson back to their feet, feeling the impact of the huge corkscrew moonsault

Black rolls out of the ring

JC: Corey Black isn't showing cowardice, Brody.

BG: No, he's taking a minute to get his bearings, perfectly normal.

Referee “Lost Count” Luis Gonzalez begins his count

1…

2…

Black slaps the apron, and rolls back into the ring

Watson is on Black quickly

Black back body drops Watson over the top rope

Watson lands on their feet on the apron!

Black grabs Watson and pulls them by the skull to a ringpost, smashing Watson's cranium into it!

Watson retaliates by mashing Black's head into the top turnbuckle!

Watson hooks Black, looking to suplex him to the outside

Black slips out after being hoisted and lands on his feet on the apron beside Watson, keeping the head-and-arm hook in while snagging a leg

Fisherman brainbuster onto the apron!

Watson falls to the floor as Black lands feet first outside

“Lost Count” Gonzalez begins his count!

1…

2…

Black brings Watson to his feet…

3…

4…

Black braces Watson against the apron, and hits and overhand elbow to Watson!

…”Lost Count” Gonzalez notices a light is out, potentially an infraction of the XWF rules.

Black slams Watson's head into the apron.

“Lost Count” Gonzalez resumes his count!

1…

2..

JC: Official Luis Gonzalez hasn't completed a ringside count out in the 13 years he's been officiating.

BG: This one may as well be no count-out, Jackie! And, for once, the referee’s incompetence may be what the fans prefer tonight! They don’t want a double count-out! They want a DEFINITIVE WINNER!

Black drags Watson to the corner post, and leans them up against it

Black in with a Kenka kick to Watson!

No!

Watson ducks, and Black's leg slides onto the mat and around the post!

Watson with a thigh kick to Black!

…8

…9

“Lost Count” Gonzalez realizes his shoe laces are too loose, and has to retie his shoes!

Watson rounds the ring post, grabbing Black's exposed and vulnerable leg draped submarine style under the bottom rope and over the corner

Watson with another leg kick to Black, sending him keeling backwards onto the floor

Watson locks in a figure four grapevined around the corner post!

JC: I have never seen this, Brody!

BG: Watson and Black are hanging like tomatoes on the vine!

JC: Watson is shredding Black's ACL as they dangle!

Having done some vicious damage, Watson releases the hold as Black rolls on the arena floor, clutching at his MCL (actually).

Watson peers under the XWF ring.

BG: What is Dickie doing?

JC: Dickie does as decided duelly dude!

BG: …what?

Watson pulls a bag out from under the ring!

JC: This could be thumb tacks, Brody!

BG: This could be a snake for crying out loud!

JC: Oh, it's the XWF Shinobi!

The ninja that lives under the XWF ring skulks out, and drops a smoke pellet!

It grabs the mystery bag and absconds through the crowd!

JC: And one lucky fan is taking home a souvenir tonight!

BG: Lots of lucky fans are taking home souvenirs, they sell them here, ONE lucky fan is taking a wild ninja home!

Watson steps out of the smoke cloud, and “Lost Count” Gonzalez sees wrestlers ringside and begins his count!

1…

2…

Black is feeling under the ring, slowly getting to his feet after the devastating corner assisted figure four.

He pulls out a pillow, and frustrated, throws it out to the crowd.

JC: COREY BLACK JUST THREW A NINJA'S PILLOW INTO THE CROWD…

…I did not expect to ever say that, Brody, I think I had too much coffee.

Brody is out in the crowd, trying to get that pillow because he wants to sleep like a ninja.

Black to his feet, favoring his right leg, and sees Watson!

Watson dives, going for a submarine DDT!

Black counters, holding the bottom rope, and hangs on to Watson

Black lifts Watson, dropping them with a snake eyes onto the apron!

Black rolls Watson into the ring, leaving their head on the apron itself

Black climbs onto the apron, and drops a knee onto Watson!

Black recoils, sitting on the apron, clutching at the knee

Watson recoils, rolling further into the ring.

Black stands, and hits a slingshot body splash, making the cover!

1…

2…

Watson kicks out!

JC: Fans, this opener has been a barn burner!

Black pulls Watson to their feet

Watson fights back!

Watson with a superkick to Black!

Watson with the cover!

1…

2…

Black gets a shoulder up!

Watson brings Black up, and now Black with a superkick!

Black reels back, leaning on the top rope, slapping his right leg, trying to get more circulation going to it

The crowd is going wild for the action!

*WE WANT WATSON!*

*CO*REY*BLACK!*

*WE WANT WATSON!*

*CO*REY*BLACK!*

Watson slowly gets to his feet

Both men throw superkicks!

Their feet lock, and then both swing around, nailing simultaneous roundhouses to the jaw!

Both competitors crumple to the mat!

JC: Both competitors are down as they crossed the streams with superkicks!

BG: It was like Harry and Voldemort shooting wands at each other!

JC: I don't know, Brody, that's J.K. Rowling, and she might be problematic, or not, it depends on which city we go to!

BG: Can we respect the art, not the artist? Like Michael Jackson.

JC: Michael was never convicted!

BG: Don't you think it's time we listened to the victims?

JC: When they're white males?

BG: Stop you sassy bitch, there's a match going on!

“Lost Count” begins his count since both competitors are down!!

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

6…

7…

8…

Um…

Shit…

6?

Yeah, 6…

7…

No, I already did those…

Damn it…

ONE…

Both competitors are up after a one count by the referee!

Watson and Black are shaking the cobwebs out following the mutual roundhouse destruction.

They both approach each other with intent

They set a collar-end-elbow tie up!

Black sets in a top wrist lock

Pressing his size advantage, Black arches Watson back into a bridge

Watson powers back, showing core strength, and counters into a hammerlock

Black with a back elbow, and a counter into a hammerlock of his own

Watson with a drop toe hold, and they rotate into a front chancery lock

Black maneuvers from the chancery into a grounded arm wrench

Black to his feet, holding the torque on the wrist

Watson posts into a one handed hand stand and flips forward to his feet, and counters into an arm whip

Black rolls through the whip and is to a knee, and he pivots setting in an arm wench

Black with an elbow to the torqued shoulder of Watson, then a leg drop

Black goes for a LaBelle lock!

Wataon rolls through, sending Black's shoulders to the mat!

1…

2…

Black kicks out!

Black transitions into an armbar

Watson rolls out of it, though, and both competitors are to their feet!

Suddenly, the XWF Shinobi hops the guardrail with his pillow!

The XWF Shinobi rushes the ring, and takes their mask off…

…revealing…

MARK HARMON!

JC: OH MY GOD, BRODY, IT’S MARK HARMON FROM NCIS!

BG: …

and?

JC: I FUCKING LOVE NCIS!

Mark Harmon grabs his pillow and returns to his home beneath the ring.

…

The two competitors both storm forward!

Corey swings wild with a lariat — but Dickie ducks, eyes flashing. He plants a kick into Corey’s gut, doubling him over.

Dickie hooks Corey’s head under his arm, his expression a mask of fury and exhaustion. He lifts — twisting sharply — and spikes Corey down with…

DICKIE’S REVENGE!

The arena erupts.

Dickie sprawls across Corey, eyes shut, every muscle straining just to hold the cover.

A second official makes the count because “Lost Count” Gonzalez has been sacked.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

WINNER: DICKIE WATSON

Dickie Watson, covered in sweat and still out of breath from his fight against Corey Black, swings open the door to his dressing room, only to find it covered in images of himself. Eyes crossed out with red paint. Words like ‘failure’ and ‘unlovable’ are written across his face in black, runny ink. In the middle of the floor, a flame dances in a pasta pot. The source of the flame is a FIGHT NYC Dickie Watson action figure. The eyes of which have been carved out of its head.

JC: Folks, I don’t think you could pair two more different stars across the ring from each other than these two competitors you’re about to see face-off!

BG: One’s a legendary technician older than the hills, the other is a physical specimen still finding her footing in wrestling!

JC: It’s pure strength and youth versus pure technique and… experience!

BG: ‘Sperience, good way to put it, Jackie boy. I was gonna say ‘being old as HELL’![/blue]

[white]TODD: Latoya Hixx is, genuinely, the strongest person… not woman, the most PHYSICALLY imposing individual on the XWF roster!

BAMA: But she’s lacking that one thing that turns pure physicality into unstoppability… and that’s experience!

TODD: Well, she’s about to get a lesson in mat wrestling from possibly the greatest mat wrestler still working today!

…

TACTILIZING ONE

GAME CHANGER

LIMIT BREAKER

From there, the beat triggers the house lights to illuminate the figure of Larry Tact standing on stage. He's looking down as he hones in for the battle ahead.

JC: Larry Tact! TPW Hall of Famer! Multiple time World Champion!

BG: And one of the best mat technicians to ever run dem ropes, Jacko!

JC: Absolutely, Brody! Larry came inches… INCHES from ending the undefeated streak of ‘Micheal Graves’ and ending his historically-long Anarchy Title reign! The closest ‘Graves’ has come to dropping the belt up to this point!

BG: But now he’s back on Warfare! And Larry is famous for re-tooling his game… After two decades in the business, it’s amazing how often he’s adding new tricks and moves to his arsenal.

JC: The greats are never satisfied with simply being great! And Larry is one of the greats! But can he overcome the inhuman strength of Latoya Hixx tonight!

After a few seconds, Tact whips his head up and trudges to one side of the stage, firing up the fans by pointing towards different sections. He goes to the other side of the stage and beats his chest with a hand before opening his arms to the reaction of the crowd. "THIS IS YOUR SPOTLIGHT!" Larry bellows as the audience hoots and hollers back. He returns to center stage and points to either side of the crowd. The lights cut out except for green, gold, and crimson spotlights highlighting the audience in attendance. Larry makes his way down to the ring, pounding fists with some fans at ringside before hanging onto the middle rope and pulling himself up onto the apron.

Facing the stands, he opens his arms up and puffs his chest out to receive the feverish energy of his supporters. Wiping his boots on the apron, Tact proceeds into the ring. He climbs a turnbuckle and again holds his arms out. “BEST GAME WINS!!!” he exclaims to another pop before descending and making his final preparations for the match.

JC: Here we go, folks! Larry Tact, the ultimate ring general, the Tactiliizing One! Against the sheer powerhouse Latoya Hixx!"

BG: Don’t let that 'ring general' flim flam talk fool ya, Jack-o! Larry’s a killer for sure, but it’s only gonna take ONE of Latoya’s tree-trunk arms swingin’ in the right direction, and ol’ Larry boy’s legacy gets smeared into the mat like a bug on a windshield!

The official signals to the timekeeper!

DING DING!

LATOYA HIXX
- vs -
LARRY TACT
Singles Match

Larry Tact circles Latoya with calm confidence, his expression one of quiet calculation. His shoulders are relaxed, his lips curled in a small smirk as though he’s already two steps ahead. He raises his hands for a collar-and-elbow tie-up, beckoning her with a nod…

JC: Larry offering to start things off with a little catch-as-catch-can!

BG: Which, if you asked Latoya what ‘catch-as-catch-can’ is, she’d probably say it’s a brand of cat food…

Latoya, chest heaving with anticipation, bites her lower lip nervously before puffing herself up, widening her stance like a bull ready to charge. Her brow furrows — determination drowning out hesitation — and she lunges into the lock-up.

The two jockey for control! Hixx bends Tact’s spine, twisting his torso backwards!

JC: Oh, Hixx showing off that raw strength! Tact’s gonna have to maintain the pace if he doesn’t want to get mauled early![/blue]

Tact immediately senses the raw strength pressing against him, his face tightening just enough to acknowledge the force. He dips low, twisting his hips with veteran precision, and in one smooth motion rolls Latoya’s wrist under his arm, torquing into a snug wristlock!

[white]JC: There we go! The technique! Tact turns all that raw power into a liability in a heartbeat!

BG: Impressive.

JC: Would you say… ‘Tactilizing’?

BG: No, I would not.

Latoya’s eyes go wide, her mouth parting as she grimaces in confusion. She stomps her boot down hard on the mat, yanking and jerking her arm like a trapped animal…

But, her panicked, twisted jerking motions, only give Larry the slack to make the wristlock tighter… To elevate the wrist higher and shove Latoya’s head lower towards the mat!

JC: Latoya’s gotta slow down and think! The panic in her movements is only giving a tactician like Larry more opportunities to put her in deep trouble!

BG: Shake it off, Hicksie!

Larry’s smirk returns as he cranks the wrist further, tilting his head like a teacher scolding a child. Hixx flexes her arm, trying like a bear punching through a wicker basket to break Larry’s grip!

BG: Here we go! Latoya might just be about to brute force her way out!

…Suddenly, with effortless grace, Tact spins beneath the arm and transitions into a hammerlock, pressing Latoya’s own arm high up her back! The crowd applauds the showing of technical mastery!

JC: Nope! Once more, Tact nimbly transitions into another move! He’s making basic chain wrestling look like magic out there!

BG: Oh, shuddup, Jacko! That ain’t no magic! That’s just cheatin’ a rookie outta her God-given strength! Let her swing, Larry — see how fast you’re countin’ stars!

Latoya hisses through clenched teeth, her face scrunched in pain. Her feet stomp anxiously, searching for footing to shove Larry off… but Larry manages to twist and change his footwork as she bends and steps to keep her from having a position to push off of!

JC: Larry slowly but surely bringing Hixx down to the mat… Like a man landing a very angry hot air balloon!

Hixx feels her knee nearly make contact with the mat… Her eyes panic, knowing she’s in trouble!

Tact raises that hammerlock, driving Hixx closer and closer to a position face-down on the mat…

…Hixx’s eyes go wild with helpless desperation!

…But just ahead, she sees the ropes!

just a few feet away. With a surge of determination, she charges forward awkwardly, dragging Tact with her until she slaps a hand onto the ropes.

JC: Close call, but Hixx manages a rope break!

BG: Phew! Alright, let’s get ‘em in the second half, Hicksie!

The official starts counting for Tact to break the hammerlock!

ONE! TWO!

Larry releases smoothly, raising his hands as though to say, "No harm done." He even pats Latoya’s shoulder with a veteran’s condescension before stepping back…

JC: …Friendly, if… arguably condescending gesture from the Tactilizing One! I’m sure Latoya won’t take it the wrong w-

The gesture makes Latoya’s face twist into a humiliated fury.

JC: …Oh dear!

Hixx lets out a guttural yell and charges blindly…

WILD CLOTHESLINE!

…Nope! Larry sees it coming a mile away.

His eyebrows lift in amusement, and with a pivot on his heel, he ducks under the arm and slides behind her! Before Hixx can even surmise where her opponent disappears to With a veteran’s precision, Tact wraps his arms around her waist aaaaaand…

He snaps her backward!

RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX!

Hixx gets LAUNCHED, sprawling across the mat.

JC: Picture-perfect! Larry Tact is wrestling a masterpiece tonight, Brody — this is a clinic in how to outmaneuver raw power!

BG: Gal darn it, Hicksie! I’m begging ya, ONCE! JUST HIT HIM ONCE! Tact’s so old, getting Hixx’s fist in his fist, he’s gotta melt into sand and Werther’s Originals!

Latoya rolls to her knees, blinking hard, her jaw slack in bewilderment at how quickly she was thrown. She shakes her head, pounding the mat with a fist as anger builds in her chest. Her breaths become heavier, her eyes narrowing to burning slits as she stares across the ring at Tact, who simply motions for her to come again with a calm, knowing nod.

Fueled by a mix of embarrassment and rage, Latoya suddenly explodes forward again! Her teeth grit, and a guttural roar escapes her throat as she throws her whole weight into a…

SHOULDER BLOCK!

…The quick sprint time catches Larry off guard! IT CONNECTS!

The collision sends Tact crashing flat onto his back, the veteran gasping for air as his arms instinctively wrap around his ribs.

JC: Whoa! Hixx just flattened Larry Tact like a runaway train! Even after Larry waved for her to come at him!

BG: Sometimes, the most surprising move is actually the most predictable move! Hixx out-thought ol’ Larry by NOT THINKING AT ALL! CHECKMATE!

JC: …I think it’s something of an overstatement to say ‘checkmate’ after landing a shoulder block! But, it IS true, Hixx has stepped into the driver’s seat!

Larry Tact lays on the canvas, wincing and clutching his ribs as he sucks in deep breaths. His lips curl into a grimace of irritation…

Across from him, Latoya stands tall, her chest heaving like a furnace, a wide grin cracking across her face. She pumps her fist on her chest and bellows, soaking in the crowd’s reaction, her confidence swelling with every cheer!

STORM IS CO-MING! *clap clap clapclapclap*

BG: YES! It’s happening! Latoya Hixx is finding her footing here! You can feel the energy shift — she’s smelling blood! Old, ooooooooold blood!

JC: …Little too much showboating here for my taste, personally!

After a few more seconds of celebratory taunting, Latoya stomps toward Tact with fire in her eyes. Her nostrils flare, her lips curled in a snarl as she swings down heavy…

AXE-HANDLE STRIKES across Tact’s back!

A second!

A THIRD!

Tact groans, his body buckling, his face contorting in pain as he tries to cover up… crawling and latching a hand onto the middle rope!

The official gets between Hixx and Tact, getting Hixx to back off while Larry’s in the ropes…

JC: Tact using that veteran knowledge to go for the ropes, buying himself a breather!

BG: Don’t do it, Hicksie! He’s literally on the ropes, go for the knockout!

Indeed, while the official counts to two, Latoya bares her teeth, side-stepping past him and unleashes a flurry of clubbing forearms, her whole body trembling with adrenaline.

BG: Get ready, ump! Call for a knockout!

But Larry’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing with grim determination... He absorbs the punishment to his back, inching his way to a knee…

Then suddenly shoves Latoya back to create just a sliver of distance!

JC: …I think Larry’s mad. He gave Hixx the courtesy of a rope break. I think Latoya violated some courtesy rule of Larry’s!

BG: Oh big deal! Keep swinging, Latoya![/blue]

Latoya snarls and lunges again, looking to secure a front-face lock!

…But, Larry dips low, pivoting his hips — and with veteran grace he slips free of her grasp, twisting behind her!

LEG SWEEP TAKEDOWN!

To the camera, it happens so quick, it seems like Hixx zips from her feet to the mat!

[white]JC: WOW! Tact once again redirects Latoya’s blind fury into a seemingly effortless counter! This is like watching a master class in the art of wrestling!”

BG: Master class, my foot! Larry’s just runnin’ away from a fight! Stand toe-to-toe, you coward!

JC: He’s literally in front of Latoya, his toes facing her toes fighting her!

BG: Doesn’t count! STAND STILL AND GET PUNCHED, TACT!

Frustration wells inside Latoya, from the mat… Though, it’s also clear exhaustion is staring to set in for Hixx as well.

Larry leans forward, grabbing Hixx by the scruff of her ne-

Suddenly, the Storm STORMS forward!

Before Larry can slip aside again, she suddenly clamps her arms around his midsection. Her eyes bulge wide, veins straining in her temples as she squeezes, lifting him clear off the mat!

BEAR HUUUUUUUUUUUUUG!

The crowd pops as Latoya latches on her signature bear hug!

JC: Whoa! Bear Hug! Latoya has the Bear Hug locked in, dead center of the ring!

BG: YES! Hixx is gonna forever be able to claim she outwrestled Larry Tact!

Larry’s mouth opens in surprise as his body jerks upward, dangling in Latoya’s crushing BEAR HUG!

His legs flail instinctively, his teeth grit, and his face twists with genuine alarm, as The Storm crushing his body!

JC: She might just have him here! Hixx has Larry Tact in her clutches — and she’s squeezing the air out of him!

BG: Yes! YES! Pop ‘im like a zit, Hicksie!

Larry gasps, eyes darting, his arms flailing!

…Is he preparaing to submit?!?

No! His expression changes — from panic to calculation.

He reaches down, snatching at Latoya’s arm, wrenching it sideways with precision.

Latoya’s grin falters, her brow knitting in confusion as she feels her own arm being dragged away from its anchor point!

JC: What’s this?!! Tact is going for one last counter?!?

Hixx shakes her head, teeth gritted, trying to power her arm out of Tact’s grip — but Larry twists violently, contorting her shoulder backward.

In a heartbeat, the veteran has dragged himself down to the mat with her Hixx’s trapped, locking her into a shocking…

KIMURA LOCK!

JC: Kimura! Kimura Lock! Where did this come from?! Larry Tact has pulled a brand new weapon out of his arsenal!

Brody Goodman: …What?! New moves?’! That’s cheatin’! That’s sorcery, Jack-O! HE’S A WITCH![/blue]

Latoya’s face contorts in agony, her mouth opening in a shriek, eyes wide and desperate…

She thrashes, kicks her legs, shakes her head violently…

but the pain is too much!

Her hand slaps frantically against the mat!

Winner: Larry Tact

[white]JC: It’s over! Latoya Hixx taps out! Larry Tact has shocked everyone by pulling out a Kimura Lock to win the match!

[white]Brody Goodman: I don’t believe it… he just tricked everybody! Latoya had him dead to rights, and this sly old fox conjures up a move nobody knew he had? That ain’t right, Castillo!

Larry releases the hold smoothly, sitting back with a satisfied grin as he adjusts his wrist tape. His eyes glimmer with veteran pride…

The scene cuts into the parking lot where we see Steve Sayors with the tool of his trade next to his lips. He has an excited expression and thumbs behind him, though what’s going on needs nobody to point it out. The cameraman has already done his duty, picking up a panning shot of rows of muscle cars. Hoods are up. Engines are revving. Some high-tempo music is playing in the distance, but it isn’t loud enough to drown out Steve’s voice.

STEVE SAYORS: Hotlanta, Georgia, apparently one of the Atlanta car show expos has moved their event to right here at State Farm Arena’s parking lot.

He moves through the lot, nodding and waving at jubilant, cheering fans who’re looking at the cars and taking pictures.

STEVE SAYORS: Looks like muscle cars and wrestling go good together, like peanut butter and jelly! And I do believe my journalistic nose has caught the scent of someone who might be in the know about this little car show.

The interviewer magnifico approaches a woman with her back to the camera. She’s sporting denim cut off shorts and a denim jacket with the XWF Anarchy logo airbrushed across the back. The trunk’s open on her throwback late 60’s era red and black muscle car. The crowd around her cheer as the woman smashes two cans of White Claw together like Stone Cold used to do his beer, and she guzzles them both down as the crowd around them hoots louder.

STEVE SAYORS: Excuse me, excuse me. I do believe I caught wind of your contract signing on XWF’s website this week. I’m gonna take a guess and say you’re Clutch Cassidy?

The blonde haired woman spins toward Steve and the camera, tossing the empty cans aside and wiping the residual from her lips.

CLUTCH CASSIDY: That’s mah name, don’t wear it out, sugar!

She throws an arm around Steve’s shoulder as if they’re pals and throws a cool girl nod at the camera. He looks happy that someone is being cool with him, since it doesn’t happen alot.

STEVE SAYORS: Oh I won’t! Trust me! I take it you know what’s going on here?

She nods and winks.

CLUTCH CASSIDY: I sure as hell do. I’ve cut my teeth on dirt tracks and dragstrips since I was knee high, and I figured if I was gonna be blessed with getting signed to the most majorest promotion in the world, XWF, I’d use it to my advantage and get a lot more eyes on these fine folks sporting their cars. So I invited them over.

STEVE SAYORS: Oh wow! I’m not sure if our acting GM, Charlie Nickles, will like that. I mean, not getting this cleared by him, and sporting an Anarchy shirt on Warfare might irk him.

CLUTCH CASSIDY: That man’s got bigger fish to fry, sugar. I don’t think he’d fault me for using Warfare to get some more eyes on Anarchy since Warfare does bring in a lot more views. Isn’t he a bidness man now? He knows the deal.

Steve looks around nervously for a moment, as if saying Charlie’s name might instantly summon him. After a moment of no Charlie sightings, he nods.

STEVE SAYORS: Good point. Smart on your part too.

CLUTCH CASSIDY: Thank ya kindly, good man. Annnnd since I have you here, I want to tell all the fans out there to tune in to Relentless for my debut match. I dunno who it’ll be yet, but they stand a damn good chance of getting a Pit Stop from me, haha. You can also catch me on Anarchy’s go home show from College Park on September 4th… I’m not booked but I’ll be there to have some fun. Now if you’ll excuse me, Steve-o, I’ve got fans to entertain.

She returns to the group of fans around her car and escorts a kid and his parents to the driver's side. She lets the child hop into the driver’s seat, and with aid from her, he excitedly revs the engine over and over again, his eyes wide with joy!

Isaiah King is already in the ring, a scowl on his face as he paces around the ring.

BG: Gotta say, Jack, Isaiah doesn’t look too focused tonight for this match. You would have thought that he’d be bringing it.

JC: Well, looks can be deceiving, Brody. After all, there may not be anything on the line in this match, but you better believe that a tag champion versus tag champion match is going to be drawing all the eyes and ears here tonight on Warfare!

BG: Maybe that’s the case, Jack, but you gotta bring your A-game tonight…

The lights in the arena go deep blue as smoke fills the air. Pink and silver laser lights cut through the smoke and it looks fucking rad.

BG: …to survive against that man.

As Bobby's music blares throughout the arena, slowly walking out onto the entrance ramp is Bobby Bourbon. He looks out at the crowd in the arena, cold and stoic, surveying his surroundings. He stops and raises his fists at 45 degree angles, and continues his deliberate plod towards the ring. He raises both arms outward, accepting fives, slaps, daps, knucks, and touches as he does. He looks on into the ring, feeling the energy of every fan he makes contact with. He stops, and begins stomping in place, with the utmost joy to be in front of the XWF crowd. He stops a camera.

"I'm a bad, bad man, but like my home, the XWF, I have plenty of bad, bad fans!"

BG: Bobby’s looking particularly mean tonight. I think that loss against Maraeth last Warfare might have really gotten to him.

JC: It was a hard-fought battle to be clear, but yes. I think Bourbon is looking to try and make a statement tonight, and King has to be on-guard against anything he’s going to try to do here.

Bobby climbs the steps, then climbs the nearest ring post half way and raises his fists at 45 degree angles. The lights go back to normal and the music stops. The fans in attendance all echo their sentiments for the match.

"fuck 'em up, bobby, fuck 'em up." stomp stomp. "fuck 'em up, Bobby, fuck 'em up." stomp stomp. "Fuck 'Em Up Bobby, Fuck 'Em Up!" STOMP STOMP! "FUCK 'EM UP BOBBY, FUCK 'EM UP!!!" STOMP STOMP!

Bobby acknowledges the crowd. They roar. Bobby looks back at his opponent.

The referee takes a minute to look over both competitors, making sure they’re ready to go. As they nod back to him, the referee motions to the outside for them to ring the bell and get this contest underway!

BOBBY BOURBON
- vs -
ISAIAH KING
Singles Match

DING! DING! DING!

JC: Here we go! No titles or contenderships on the line here tonight, but there’s a lot of pride and bragging rights that’ll be sure to go into this match. Bobby Bourbon! Isaiah King! One-half of both Anarchy and Warfare’s tag champs are meeting in the center of that ring to find out who the better champ is, and who the better brand is!

BG: You know me, Jack. I’m a Bourbon fan at heart, it’s true. But I just hope we can get some pride going for our own brand, you know? Warfare IS the flagship brand of the XWF, after all!

JC: It’ll sure to be a hard-fought mountain to climb for both of these men, but that’ll be sure what to make this a barnburner spectacle to watch!

King raises his fists, moving into his trademark boxing stance as he moves towards the center of the ring, looking to take control of the center. Bobby sneers at King, before slowly raising his hands and trying to meet him in return.

King measures his distance with a jab, but Bobby quickly slips the punch before it lands. King tries to measure it again, but this time Bobby swats the punch away. King tries for a third jab - but it’s caught in Bobby’s grasp!

A beat passes. King and Bobby stare at each other. King tries to wrench his hand free from Bobby’s grip. But Bobby responds by lunging forward to knock King between the eyes with a sharp headbutt!

JC: Big headbutt there from Bobby has King’s eyes watering! King, of course, very seasoned boxer and has used that strategy to great effect here in the XWF, but if there’s any man who can take a punch and stay standing in this company…

BG: You better believe it’s Bobby Bourbon. And he’s about to go on the hunt.

King takes a step back, trying to shake out the cobwebs, but Bobby is already on top of him! A HUGE knee to the gut has King doubling over, heaving for air as he falls back into the corner! But he doesn’t get a second chance to breathe as Bobby darts forward - CORNER CLOTHESLINE!

The fans are wincing at the immediate carnage on display in the ring, and it doesn’t look to be letting up any time soon! Bobby claps both hands around King’s neck, looking towards the opposite side of the ring as he moves across with him - BEALE THROW!

JC: A Big Boy Toss from a very big boy in the ring there! King got thrown around like a ragdoll!

BG: See what I told you before, Jack? King just isn’t focused out there, and he’s getting picked apart!

JC: King’s taken worse in the ring, but it’s definitely not a promising start for him, I can tell you that much!

King quickly rolls out of the ring, looking to try and recuperate. His eyes are slightly glassy, and he sucks in a deep breath. As the camera focuses in on him in his wounded state, King glares towards the cameraman, brushing him aside as he tries to pace outside of the ring.

JC: King looks to be emotional, but you can hardly blame him. When you’re fighting for bragging rights like these two are, it’s easy to get swept in the details of the moments here.

BG: Bobby isn’t gonna let him sulk forever, though!

Just as Bobby steps over the top rope to bring the fight to King, King is a beat faster. He grabs Bobby by the heel, yanking his stance out from under him as he takes a hard fall onto the ring apron! Bobby winces as King continues to lay some heavy punches on him, but he quickly comes back to life! He shoves King across, sending him into the metal barricade!

BG: Well, this sure didn’t take long for the chaos to spill out of the ring! Bobby just couldn’t wait to get his hands on King here!

JC: Both competitors have to be mindful of the count here, though. The referee isn’t going to let them sit forever out there.

Sure enough, the referee leans over the outside as he begins to count.

ONE!

TWO!

Bobby comes over towards King, but King manages to land a hard body hook. He takes Bourbon by the neck, looking to bash him into the guard rail!

But Bobby catches himself in time! He drives a sharp elbow in retaliation to King’s chest, giving him the chance he needs to drive King’s skull instead into the metal! King walks off, holding his nose as a gush of crimson spurts out!

JC: Uh oh… folks, it looks like Isaiah King’s just broken his nose out there, and you can see he’s shaken up. You’d hardly be able to breathe with how much blood he’s gushing out, there.

BG: Scars of war, Jack. It doesn’t look like there’s going to be any rest for the wicked, though.

THREE!

FOUR!

As King tends to his busted nose, Bobby continues to take the initiative, hitting King with a heavy double axe handle to the back. King doubles over, but Bobby takes him by the throat and holds him up high! He runs to the metal ring post -

BEFORE CHOKESLAMMING KING RIGHT INTO IT!

BG: And if you need a reminder on what equation that was, that was EMC squared! King learning right now just how much of an impact can give Bobby the energy he’s needing here!

JC: It’s like King’s hardly having a chance to breathe. Bobby’s making good on his promises right now, but you’ve gotta wonder if there’s a chance King could scrape his way back into this.

FIVE!

SIX!

Taking notice of the referee’s count, Bobby huffs while looking back at King. He delivers a sharp boot to his busted nose, causing King’s face to scrunch in pain and discomfort. Bobby hoists King back up, only to roll him right back into the ring, with Bobby soon following inside.

King takes a minute to get back onto all fours, with Bobby stalking King like he’s prey. A boot to the side sends King onto his back, holding onto the ropes as he desperately gets back up, trying to cling to life in this match.

A goliath stands before him.

King grimaces, before delivering a punch to Bobby’s gut! And another! And another! Each shot tries to send the big man back, heaving with each blow! He begins to circle around, looking for a huge Discus Punch!

BUT BOBBY CATCHES IT!

JC: Oh no! Isaiah King had to be looking for his Royal Verdict, and we’ve seen before how that Discus Punch could turn the tide of the match at an instinct!

BG: Bobby had that move well-scouted, Jack. He’s playing no games tonight with this match. And that means…

A headbutt to the broken nose has King doubling over once more as he holds at it! But Bobby places his head between his legs!

Lifts him up high!

AND PLANTS HIM RIGHT BACK DOWN WITH A BOBBYBOOOOOOOOOOOOOMB!

JC: VICIOUS Bobbybomb there! King might have been lifted to the rafters there with how high Bourbon had him!

BG: Never mind the height - did you see the landing? Bobby might have dropped him on his head!

Bobby plants himself down atop King’s carcass as the referee counts the pinfall!

OOOOOOOOOOOONE!

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

WINNER: BOBBY BOURBON!

BG: Game, set and match. King’s done some great things in the XWF, no doubt about it, but he couldn’t bring his A-game tonight against Bourbon.

JC: Make no mistake, folks, Bourbon went into this match looking to send a message, and he did just that. He’s got a high-profile tag match come Relentless against the Corporation, and Bourbon and Thunder Knuckles alike aren’t looking to be backing down any time soon!

Bobby gets his hand raised high by the referee, and he takes a minute to bask in the cheers and jeers alike as he gives a smug smirk, before walking off towards the back.

BG: The Bastards and the Corporation… why do my favorite teams have to collide against each other like this?

JC: Regardless, King’s going to have to come back to his senses soon, since he and Sebastian Everett-Bryce will also be defending the titles come Relentless! But be sure to stay tuned, folks, for this Warfare is rolling on!

"Dethrone" by Bad Omens plays throughout the arena. The lights go out. Once the beat drops, a spotlight shines on the entryway, where Solomon Kline appears inside the light, clad in a black hoodie over his ring gear and kneeling on his right knee. As the lyrics come in, he stands, removes his hood and surveys the crowd as sparks rain down around him. He grooves his way toward the ring, and high fives fans along the way. He circles the ring and slides under the bottom rope. He continues rocking out to the song and goes to the turnbuckle to let out a primal scream, singing along to the lyric, "Here am I, take me to the pearly gates, so I can look you in the eye when I spit in your face!"

He returns to the ring and readies himself for the match.

JC: And here comes the son of one of the XWF’s most favorite legends!

BG: Hopefully Solomon doesn’t pull a ‘Raja Jackson’ in the ring tonight!

JC: I don’t even know why you’d say that!

BG: Because I get the feeling that this match is going to be a BLOODBATH!

The lights fade out suddenly. As her theme begins. the lights flicker on slowly and steadily, until they maintain a muted version of themselves, which Sarah stands in the middle of the entrance way. The lights follow Sarah as she slowly makes her way to the ring. On either side of her are no hands outreached, no fans trying to gain her attention. Just angry faces and concerned looks. Sarah steps into the ringside area, and moves to the ring area, rolling in, and rolling to her feet. She positions herself in the corner of her choosing, and waits.

BG: It’s our reigning, defending, and absolutely stunning TV Champion! Sarah Wolf!

JC: Sarah has been on an impressive tear in the Television division, finally bringing some stability to that belt!

BG: What was once a hot potato, is now a prize of gerat prestige firmly situated around the waist of the Wolf-woman!

JC: The only question is…will that belt be leaving on her waist, or will Solomon Kline pull off the upset?!

BG: I think we’re about to find out!

The opening bell cuts through the arena, sharp and commanding, and immediately Sarah Wolf slinks forward with a crooked smirk. She doesn’t look interested in locking up. Her eyes darted to Solomon Kline’s left knee, like a predator drone locking in on a precise target. Solomon, meanwhile, stands tall in the center of the ring, legs planted like oak trunks, waiting for the champion to come at him. The crowd’s buzzing with excitement, they’ve been waiting weeks for this match up!

Sara Wolf circles her challenger, her head tilted, as if examining Solomon’s weak points with great precision.

JC: This match is off to a slow-start here! Both competitors are just feeling each other out!

BG: Feeling each other out?! Buddy, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed: but Sarah Wolf has just given Solomon Kline a full ocular patdown! If Solomon doesn’t act quick, she’s going to make mincemeat of him!

Sarah Wolf strikes first, closing the gap cautiously as she moves in on the big man. Kline extends his arms for the collar-and-elbow, but Wolf ducks under, snapping a quick low kick to the inside of his knee. He grunts but doesn’t drop. She smirks, feints in again, then delivers another sharp kick: this one higher, as if it were a slap to his face!

Solomon lunges forward to swat her away, and she slips out of range, wagging a finger at him as she taunts the big man.

JC: Sarah Wolf had better be careful here! I wouldn’t want to rile Kline up if I were her!

BG: Why? Will he get angry? Will she not like him if he’s angry? Listen to yourself when you talk. This is a wrestling match, not a marvel movie!

Kline doesn’t bite on Wolf’s mocking gestures. He just steadies himself, waiting for her next move. When Wolf suddenly darts in and tries to clinch, Kline is prepared to swat her aside like a gnat! The big man shoves her halfway across the ring!

JC: I told you, Brody!

Wolf lands on her hip, arches her back, and then rolls up to her feet with a scowl. The audience pops for Kline’s raw power, but Wolf doesn’t let the frustration stew for long: her expression quickly settles back into cold malice.

BG: I think you’ve got things backwards! I think Solomon’s about to find out what happens when Sarah Wolf gets angry!

Wolf lunges for his knee again, but this time Kline’s ready. He catches her foot mid-swing and yanks her forward. Wolf stumbles chest-first into his arms, and Kline clamps down, swinging her up with a thunderous overhead belly-to-belly suplex! Wolf crashes hard on the canvas, the ring shuddering from the pure impact.

Kline doesn’t let up! He storms forward as Sarah tries to escape, scooping Wolf onto his shoulder, and slamming her spine-first into the turnbuckle in a running powerslam variation. Wolf arches in agony, hands grasping the small of her back, before collapsing forward onto her knees.

Solomon drops down to cover her!

1!

KICKOUT!

BG: Not even close!

JC: But he’s getting in some early offense! If Sarah Wolf isn’t careful, the next pin’s going to be a 2, and then the one after that will be her downfall!

The crowd applauds the kickout, but Kline doesn’t look discouraged. He gets back to work quickly, hauling Wolf up by her hair, the difference in size between them almost comical. He whips her into the ropes, and when she rebounds, he ducks low, launching her into the air for a massive back body drop!

Wolf soars through the air, before finally crashing down to the mat!

BG: Oh my God! I’ve never seen a wolf fly so high!

JC: Solomon Kline is every part of 6 foot 6 inches, and he’s chok-full of muscle! If anyone could make pigs and wolves fly: it’s gotta’ be him!

Sarah Wolf rolls instinctively out under the bottom rope, clutching her spine, trying to buy a much-needed timeout!

Kline follows, stepping over the ropes to pursue, but by the time he gets onto the apron Sarah Wolf’s already laying in wait. She grabs the edge of the apron, yanks it down, and drives her elbow into the back of his knee, causing Solomon to collapse on the apron! Kline roars, buckling, clutching the leg. Wolf doesn’t waste a second! She shoves him back-first into the ring post, then wraps his knee around the cold steel with a sickening twist. The referee leans out, barking warnings at the TV champion, but Wolf just shrugs, feigning innocence as she releases Kline’s leg!

JC: A dirty trick followed by a dirty move! The champion is pulling out all the stops here tonight!

BG: She’s just doing the hard work that needs to be done if you want to keep your championship! This is why Sarah Wolf has been such a dominant TV champion: because she’s willing to do whatever it takes to retain!

Solomon rolls back inside the ring, clutching his leg as the referee chews Sarah Wolf out.

JC: There’s still ten minutes remaining in this match…I don’t even want to think about what damage Sarah Wolf could do to that knee in the next ten minutes!

BG: Think about it? You don’t have to think about it! We get to watch it!

Sarah slides back into the ring, stalking Kline’s knee relentlessly. She stomps at it, bends it sideways, and finally drops into a spinning toe hold. Each crank draws a grimace from Kline, but he shakes his head furiously when the ref asks if he wants to quit. Wolf leans down, snarling, almost whispering in his ear as she torques harder, like she’s trying to seduce him into surrendering to the pain.

But Solomon refuses!

BG: Sarah Wolf is going to rip that boy’s leg clean-off if he doesn’t just give up! She’s like a dog with a bone in there!

JC: Solomon Kline’s not going to quit, Brody, you can always count on that! But maybe, maybe just this once he should consider it! He still has to wrestle for the Tag-Team Championships alongside “Blizzard” Collins at Relentless, but he won’t be able to do that if Sarah Wolf breaks his leg tonight!

With the crowd chanting behind him, Kline fires back, clubbing Sarah with heavy fists, until she’s forced to release his leg. He tries to scramble upright, but Wolf dives low and dragon-screws him back to the mat!

She slides atop of him for the cover!

1!

2!!

KICKOUT!!!

BG: She almost had him dead to rights!

JC: She sure did! Solomon Kline is going to have to dig deep if he wants to fight his way back into this match!

Wolf scowls, raking her nails down Kline’s face in frustration, earning yet another warning from the referee. The crowd boos the blatant heel tactic, but Sarah pays them no mind. She just snaps up, drives the sole of her boot into Kline’s knee again and again, then yanks him by the ankle over to the corner. With a nasty little flourish, she drapes his leg over the bottom rope and drops down, hyperextending the joint! Kline groans, gripping the top rope, but still shakes his head defiantly when the referee asks if he quits!

Wolf taunts, throwing up five fingers in the ref’s as though mocking his countdown. She pulls Kline out from the ropes and into a single-leg Boston crab, wrenching back with violent jerks. The pain tolerance that defines Kline is on full display: his teeth grit, sweat pours, and yet he drags himself forward. Inch by inch, until his hand finally snags the bottom rope once again!. The ref orders the break. Wolf doesn’t release until four, glaring at the official the entire time. Then, she finally steps back: but only after feigning a bite to the referee’s face! The champion gets a chuckle out of the referee’s startled fright.

JC: If Sarah Wolf’s not careful, she could get herself disqualified here!

BG: Disqualified?! Look at how scared that referee is! There’s no way he has the guts to DQ our precious Dollface!

The damage on Kline’s leg is mounting. When Kline tries to rise, his leg buckles under him. Wolf circles like a shark, licking her lips in anticipation of the kill. She moves in for another chop block, but this time Kline meets her with a desperate clothesline from his knees! The impact nearly decapitates her! Both wrestlers crash to the mat, sucking wind.

JC: Talk about a momentum swing! Kline was swinging for the fences there, and I think he just hit a home-run!

BG: He just derailed the champion’s train of thought, that’s for damn sure! He might’ve just given her a concussion, the jerk!

Kline’s the first up, hobbling badly but alive. He drags Wolf into a corner, unleashing rapid-fire European uppercuts, each one snapping her head back with vicious power. He hoists her up onto the turnbuckle, climbs gingerly after her, and with a roar, brings her crashing down with a superplex that rattles the ring! He drapes an arm over her chest as the referee drops down to count the pin!

1!

2!!!!

KICKOUT!!!

JC: He almost had her! I thought that was it!

BG: Solomon Kline is bigger than Sarah Wolf, stronger than Sarah Wolf, and damn it, I think he might even have more heart than Sarah Wolf! I hate to say it, but I think she’s in trouble here! This could be the end of her reign as we know it!

JC: That may be so, Brody- but that clock is ticking! And Kline only has 5 minutes left to get the job done, or Sarah Wolf will retain by default!

The crowd can’t believe Wolf kicked out. Kline slaps the mat, frustrated but not broken. He forces himself upright, waiting, motioning for Wolf to rise as the crowd chants his name in unison. Sarah stumbles forward, dazed and confused, as Kline scoops her onto his shoulders. The pain in his knee nearly gives, but he grits it out, roaring as he drives her down with a massive fireman’s carry slam in the center of the ring!

He hooks the leg!

1!

2!!

KICKOUT!!!!

The arena shakes with disbelief. Both wrestlers are visibly exhausted. Kline limps around, motioning for another big move, but Wolf rolls to the ropes, trying to crawl away. Kline drags her back, only for Wolf to rake her nails across his eyes- but this time, the referee doesn’t see! Kline reels back, blinded, and Wolf pounces, hitting a chop block that folds his leg underneath him.

Wolf wastes no time following up. She twists him into a vicious inverted STF, grinding across his face as she leans back. Kline howls, clawing at the mat. The clock ticks down from four minutes to three and a half. The audience stomps and claps, begging Kline not to give in. Summoning every ounce of strength, Kline pushes up, drags them both across the ring, and reaches the ropes for yet another ropebreak. Wolf lets go at four, seething, her hair wild around her face as the referee practically has to force her off of Solomon Kline.

BG: This match is going down to the wire! Or should I say, down to the ropes! Because Sarah Wolf would’ve had this match won if it wasn’t for those pesky ‘rules’!

JC: That may be so, but there’s only 2 minutes left on the clock! She’s going to win this match by default if she can just survive from here on out!

Both wrestling are staggering now, exhausted and battered beyond belief. Kline hobbles up, throwing desperate haymakers, trying to knock out the champion. He connects with one, two, three in a row, staggering Wolf into the ropes and busting her forehead wide open! Blood sprays all across the canvas as Solomon Kline whips her across the ring, then he limps forward, and nearly decapitates her with the ASHES TO ASHES!

A MASSIVE POP-UP FOREARM SMASH TO THE FACE!

He covers her for the pin!

1!

2!!

KICKOUT!!!!!!

Kline pounds the mat, his temper flashing as the champion somehow kicks out! Solomon looks up to the X-tron and sees the timer ticking down. He quickly drags Wolf up, but she collapses on him, playing possum. As he stoops down to grab her, she springs up with a sudden headbutt to the bridge of his nose! The crack echoes! Blood trickles instantly!

The crowd erupts in boos as Wolf smiles through her crimson mask.

BG: THERE’S ONLY ONE MINUTE LEFT, BUT THIS MATCH IS FAR FROM OVER!

JC: Far from over?! Are you hearing yourself?! These wrestlers BOTH need medical attention, you’re not supposed to be able to do this much damage in 15 minutes!

With just one minute left, Wolf circles Kline’s back, hooking him for a backstabber—but Kline shrugs her off and plants her on her ass with a spinebuster!

BG: SPINE BUSTER! SPINE BUSTER!

JC: This could be all she wrote for Sarah Wolf!

Kline rises, blood running down his nose, as he drags Sarah Wolf up by her hair for one last slam.

JC: There’s only 30 seconds left!

BG: But Kline’s about to end it all right here!

Solomon lurches with all his might, his legs wobbling, as he picks Sarah Wolf up for the powerbomb…

But when Kline lifts Sarah up onto his shoulders, she spits a mysterious chemical into Kline’s eyes! It stings his eyes before foaming to cover Kline’s entire face! Solomon’s face starts to burn as wretches and gags- but the referee doesn’t see any of it, because Sarah Wolf’s body is covering his view!

JC: WOLF’S BLOOD! She just spit the Wolf’s Blood into Kline’s eyes! That dirty, good-for-nothing scoundrel!

As Kline stumbles, Sarah slithers onto his back like a snake, locking in a rear naked choke. She cinches it in, her forearm braced across his windpipe. He thrashes, his long arms flailing. The crowd screams at him to hold on as the Wolf’s Blood spreads across the entirety of Kline's face, mixing with the blood from his nose as it foams.

JC: She cheated! Sarah Wolf just cheated, but the referee didn’t see it!

BG: All’s fair on Love and Warfare!

Kline staggers forward, trying to smash her into the turnbuckle, but she rides his back like a parasite, tightening the chokehold!

Kline drops to one knee, his arm raised, trembling. Wolf squeezes tighter, her face twisted with sick delight.

Kline’s arm falls once…

The referee grabs Kline’s arm, but it drops twice…

The referee lifts it a third time….

And Kline’s arm drops, lifeless.

The referee calls for the bell!

Winner and STILL XWF TELEVISION CHAMPION - SARAH WOLF

Sarah Wolf lets Kline drop like a sack of bricks after the bell rings. The champion looks down at her fallen challenger with scornful contempt before the referee hands her the XWF TV Championship. Wolf stops staring daggers into Kline only once the gold is back around her waist!

The crowd boos with righteous indignation as the referee raises Sarah Wolf’s hand up for the world to see.

JC: This was a screwjob! Solomon Kline had her beat fair and square, but Sarah Wolf bent the rules like she always does, and now she’s walking out of the ring with a title that should’ve been his!

BG: EXACTLY! SHE is walking out of here with the title belt, and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters! Sarah Wolf did exactly what she needed to in order to retain here tonight, and there’s nothing anyone can say about that.

JC: Oh, there’s a whole lot I can say about that! But Brody, you know we don’t have the airtime for me to dive into every dirty trick and tactic that she used in her “victory” here tonight. We have to get to tonight’s Main Event!

The crowd rises to its feet to boo as Charlie Nickles appears under the XTron…

JC: Alone? And in his old ring attire, Brody?

BG: You heard the bossman this week, Jackie. He said he was going to give the world one last taste of Classic Charlie here tonight. And he’s living up to his word.

JC: I guess he is… and I guess I’m wondering now which one is more dangerous? Afterall, it was ‘Classic Charlie’ who captured the Universal Championship in the first place. The man who made a career out of maiming his opponents.

Charlie’s face is without expression. He marches straight down to the ring and finds himself a spot seated by the turnbuckle, rocking back and forth.

B L A C K.

The speakers erupt with distorted violins and a droning, percussive march—less music, more migraine. It gnaws at the eardrums, drawing out a wave of panic-screams and jeers from the crowd before the vocals even begin.

And then—
MARAETH’S voice splits the void:

"…NOW WE BECOME DEATH…"
"…THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS…"
♫ GO BACK TO SLEEP! ♫

CUT TO: THE STAGE.

A Perfect Circle’s Counting Bodies Like Sheep floods the arena, rhythm like blunt trauma—unyielding, brutal, hypnotic. Strobing white light bleeds through clouds of machine fog. Smoke billows like a fire waiting to engulf. A lone spotlight punches down, center stage.

♫ Don't fret precious, I'm here ♫
♫ Step away from the window
♫ And go… BACK TO SLEEP ♫

FROM BELOW—
MARAETH.

Their body rises through the haze like something that should not return. Painted in bruised purples and cosmic ash, Their form is muscular, elegant, and uncanny—what appears to be black ring gear clings to Them in jagged asymmetry, though murmurs persist that it’s body paint, applied with impossible precision. Their right side is overtaken by twisted, rootlike textures that resemble armor grown from inside Them. Their grin is too wide. Their eyes—unnatural, glowing—refuse to look away. And at the center of Their chest, nestled just above the sternum, sits a painted third eye, violet and closed. Watching. Or pretending to.

♫ COUNT BODIES LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ COUNTING BODIES LIKE SHEEP TO THE RHYTHM OF WAR DRUMS ♫

They descend the ramp like a puppet that chewed through its strings—shoulders twitching, head cocked, joints moving in gleefully incorrect directions. One step. A twitch. Another step. A sideways skip. Then laughter—sharp, sudden, wrong. It bursts from Their mouth like They didn’t mean to make it, then keeps coming anyway.

At ringside, They drop to Their belly and slither under the rope, dragging Themself across the mat with lazy fingers, like They’re bored of gravity. Reaching center, They rise to Their knees, then bend backward—slow, too far, too eager—until Their spine curves like a lie told one too many times.

Then They snap forward, mouth wide, throat open, and scream.

It isn’t pain. It isn’t rage.

It’s something older. Something delighted.

And as the echo hangs in the rafters, They giggle softly to Themself—grinning with that Spiral-shaped smile, like They know something you’re too scared to ask. The lights flash. The air clenches. And The bell hasn’t even rung.

JC I’m left speechless everytime they come to the ring, Brody. Maraeth is a spectacle. A phenom.

BG: A FREAK!

JC: A freak who handled business against one of the best in the business last Warfare, Bobby Bourbon. And Maraeth looks as formidable as ever here tonight!

Charlie Nickles
- vs -
Maraeth

Muscles Marianara, our official tonight, gives Charlie a pat down for any foreign objects, he’s squeaky clean, figuratively speaking. He then wanders over to Maraeth, and checks her… finding something?

BG: Would you look at that, Jackie? This Black Rainbow FREAK was trying to sneak in a pair of brass knuckles to this match, can you believe it?

JC: I mean. No? But I guess I’m most surprised to see our official actually doing the right thing in checking these two beforehand. He must’ve been paying attention to the promos this week, because these two made it clear they were out for blood.

At first, Maraeth forefits the brass knuckles, but then smiles and flings something in Muscles face. A clear liquid. Maybe sweat or something. Muscles just stands there blinking before…

JC: Hmm… something looks off with our official here all a sudden, Brody

Muscles Marinara turns away from Maraeth, his eyes turning pitch black. Without looking at her, Muscles simply hands the knuckles back to Maraeth and signals for the bell!

BG:WHAT???

JC:I guess the ref is changing the stipulation here… no DQ?

BG: He doesn’t have the authority to do that!

Charlie’s eyes go wide with rage as he watches Maraeth smirking, sliding the brass knuckles on her fingers.

He charges for her arm, and catches it before she can deal any damage, but a judo kick from Maraeth to Charlie’s knee breaks his balance before

WHAM!

SPINNING BACKFIST!

The brass knuckles connect with Charlie’s temple!

He flatlines, and hits the mat face first.

Maraeth laughs and rolls Charlie’s limp body over, hooking his leg in a suggestive manner

1!

2!!

KICKOUT!!!

JC: Man I thought this one was over already, Brody!

BG: This isn’t fair, Jack! Someone needs to put a stop to this. Maraeth should be disqualified!

JC: Well, the “acting general manager” is in the ring with her now. If anyone is going to stop Maraeth, it’s going to have to be Charlie.

Maraeth slides off of Charlie’s chest, their smirk twisted with delight. They stand slowly, cracking their neck to one side, then the other. Their fingers flex around the brass knuckles, still glistening red. Blood already trickles down Charlie’s cheek.

Charlie groans, his eyes fluttering like he’s coming to after a car crash. He rolls to his side and spits a tooth. Then he smiles.

JC: That’s the smile of a man who’s done worse… and lived to talk about it.

BG: That’s the smile of a lunatic! He just got KNOCKED THE HELL OUT, and he’s LAUGHING about it!

Maraeth lunges in for another shot, but Charlie grabs the brass-knuckled fist mid-swing!

His eye twitches. He screams through gritted teeth, rising to his knees, then to his feet. His grip tightens.

Maraeth's lips curl, not in pain, but in thrill.

Charlie headbutts them square on the bridge of the nose.

Then again.

And again.

Maraeth stumbles backward, finally letting go of the knuckles as blood sprays from their nostrils.

Charlie tosses the weapon and charges, tackling Maraeth into the ropes and dumping them over the top with a thunderous clothesline. Both bodies slam to the outside turf.

The Atlanta crowd howls as Charlie crawls to the barricade and drags himself up.

He pulls a chair from beneath the ring and folds it closed.

CRACK!

Down it comes across Maraeth’s spine.

CRACK!

Across their arm.

CRACK! CRACK!

A double shot to the shoulder blades. Maraeth buckles to one knee. Their eyes glassy. Their breathing sharp.

JC: Charlie Nickles has snapped!

BG: That chair’s got more dents than a derby car, and Maraeth’s got more bruises than a back alley!

Charlie grabs Maraeth by the hair and rams their head into the steel ring post. Once. Twice. On the third time—Maraeth kicks backward, catching Charlie between the legs!

Charlie yelps like a dog hit with a hose.

Maraeth stumbles away, clutching their ribs, their movements jerky—but their eyes burning.

They grab a table from under the apron and slide it into the ring.

Then they find a second.

A third.

Three tables now rest ominously in the ring.

BUT FROM BEHIND! It’S CHARLIE WITH A BIG BACKBODY DROP!

Maraeth splatters onto the floor. He climbs ontop of her hooking the leg… and though this ref has black eyes as if he’s under the direct influence of the Black Rainbow, he doesn’t hesitate to count!

1!

2!!

NO!!!

Maraeth kicks out.

Charlie climbs back to his feet, and pulls Maraeth up by their hair. He pulls her face into a forearm smash and then whips them toward the barricade. But Maraeth, they halt the momentum, pull Charlie back and whip him right into a knee to the midsection. Charlie folds over and Maraeth muscles him up and over with a gutwrench suplex!

JC: Like her, or hate her, partner.. Maraeth is an absolute specimen!

After catching their breath, Maraeth pulls Charlie back inside, and with raw force, belly-to-belly suplexes him onto the flat canvas. They don't pin. They climb the turnbuckle instead… unstable, shaking… but with a manic glint in their eye.

Charlie’s still down.

Maraeth leaps!!!

FROG SPLASH!!!

ONTO NOTHING!!!!

Charlie rolls and Maraeth crashes chest-first into the mat and bounces with a violent thud.

JC: She may have cracked a rib!

BG: There’s not a bone in the human body meant to hit from that height!

Charlie heaves himself up and roars. He grabs one of the tables and props it in the corner diagonally.

Maraeth tries to crawl away, but they’re too slow.

Charlie pulls them up by the hair again and whips Maraeth into the corner. But Maraeth is able to catch themselves, grabbing the top ropes before crashing into the table. Charlie runs in from behind looking to attack with a clubbing forearm, but Maraeth counters with a back elbow that catches the former universal champion in the mouth. He trunks away, holding at his chops… AND MARAETH!

SHE HAS HIM BY THE WAIST!

GERMAN SUPL- - - CHARLIE HOOKS HIS LEG BEHIND THE CALF!

Maraeth tries to muscle him up, but now it’s Charlie throwing back elbows.

Maraeth is able to dodge one, two maybe, but then he catches them in the cheek.

Charlie grabs them up…

BIG SIDEWALK SLAM THROUGH THE TABLE!

Wood explodes under their weight.

Charlie flops on top of them.

1!

2!!

KICKOUT!!!

Maraeth wrenches their shoulder off the mat, eyes wide and laughing through blood.

Charlie barks at Muscles Marinara. But he simply stares, unmoving, eyes still black.

Charlie leans back on his knees, panting, spit dangling from his lower lip. His chest rises in ragged pulses. Blood drips from his forehead now. Maraeth’s knuckles have left their mark, and yet, the gleam in his eye is wild and full of purpose.

JC: What’s it going to take to keep either of these monsters down?

BG: We’ve gone past pain, Jack. Past pride. This is down to bone and nerve now.

Charlie drags Maraeth by the wrist across the splinters of the broken table, then heaves them to their feet with both hands buried in a matted clump of hair. He lets out a guttural growl and swings for a short-arm lariat…

BUT MARAETH DUCKS! They spin, and drives a rising knee into Charlie’s gut. The impact lands loud, and deep.

Charlie doubles over.

Maraeth doesn’t hesitate, and grabs him in a front facelock, hooks the tights…

Snap suplex!

Charlie hits with a loud crack, the back of his head bouncing off the mat. But Maraeth doesn’t release… they roll through.

SECOND SNAP SUPLEX!!!

Another roll.

THIRD!

They float over, bridging…

1!

2!!

Charlie powers out with a roar, slapping Maraeth in the ribs as he breaks the bridge.

Maraeth grins.

They roll to their feet and reach out of the ring grabbing a steel chair, a kendo stick, and finally a pair of handcuffs from under the ring skirt.

BG: Wait a damn minute, are those what I think they are?

JC: Looks like we’re going to see Black Rainbow Justice served cold.

Charlie stumbles upright, and Maraeth rushes in, swinging the kendo stick like a sword.

CRACK! Across the ribs.

Charlie howls.

Another CRACK! Across the back.

He drops to a knee.

Maraeth wraps the cuffs around Charlie’s right wrist, and attempts to latch the other to the middle rope…

But Charlie suddenly pulls forward, wrenching Maraeth into the steel post! Their shoulder slams into it at full force, and they reel backward.

Charlie rips the handcuffs off and whips them into the crowd.

Then he grabs the chair, and folds it around Maraeth’s back.

WHACK.

WHACK.

WHACK.

With every blow, Maraeth’s knees wobble, their body convulsing in jerks of pain. Still, they stay on their feet.

That smile returns to their blood-smeared lips.

So Charlie finishes it.

He throws the chair to the floor and…

DDT ONTO THE CHAIR!!!

Maraeth’s skull bounces off the steel with a sickening clang. Their body goes slack.

JC: DEAR GOD!

BG: THEY’RE DEAD, JACK. THEY GOTTA BE DEAD.

Charlie flips them over…

1!

2!!

Maraeth kicks out! Barely!

Charlie doesn’t argue with the ref.

Doesn’t scream. He just breathes harder, blood in his teeth, and pulls Maraeth to their knees by the sides of their face.

Charlie shuffles outside again, dragging the steel ring steps into the ring.

He rolls Maraeth’s body near and sets them up for the Devil Hook Drop.

He locks the arms.

But Maraeth shifts their weight, drops to a knee, and spins into a Drop Toe-Hold!

Charlie’s skull bounces off the steel steps!

He rolls onto his back, twitching.

Maraeth, breath heaving, face a crimson mask, backs into the corner.

They wait.

Charlie stumbles up…

KICK DEMON!!!

That brutal roundhouse kick lands flush on Charlie’s cheek.

His body goes limp mid-air and drops like a dead bird.

Maraeth rolls him into the ring and collapses on top….

1!

2!!

3!!!!!!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Charlie just barely, BARELY kicks out

JC: I don’t even know if he knows where he is.

BG: It’s just instinct. That’s all that’s left.

The two lay on opposite sides of the ring now.

The camera pans between their wrecked bodies.

Both twitch. Both move.

Maraeth crawls to one of the remaining tables, and sets it upright.

Charlie drags himself up with the ropes, barely standing.

Maraeth rushes.

Charlie catches them.

LIFTS….

STEEBENVILLE SCREWDRIVER THROUGH THE TABLE!!!

The crowd erupts.

The ring is a minefield of debris and carnage.

Charlie doesn’t even bother covering.

He just sits next to them, breathing in and out like a dying animal.

Maraeth is twitching.

Charlie turns.

He grabs his belt from off his waist.

He unhooks it slowly.

BG: Oh no…

JC: It’s time. Belt-to-Ass!

Charlie raises the belt…

And Maraeth catches it.

Their eyes lock.

Maraeth grins.

Charlie’s face drops.

Maraeth pulls him forward into a SNAP DRAGON SUPLEX, landing Charlie right on his neck!

Both bodies are down now.

Neither moves.

The crowd chants: “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

Muscles Marinara… just stares.

The ref finally begins a count.

1…

2…

3…

Neither moves.

4…

Maraeth’s hand twitches.

5…

Charlie rolls to his stomach.

6…

Maraeth pulls themself to their knees.

7…

Charlie climbs to a table fragment.

8…

Maraeth falls backward.

9…

Charlie STANDS.

Maraeth STANDS.

The crowd, already breathless, comes unglued.

JC: What the HELL is keeping these two on their feet, Brody?!
BG: Nothing human, that’s for damn sure!

They stumble toward each other—no stance, no guard, just magnetized madness. Charlie swings first, a wild right hook, full of hate and history. It lands across Maraeth’s jaw and twists their head—but they spin back with a forearm that splits Charlie’s lip wide open.

Both of them sway.

Charlie spits blood at Maraeth’s feet. Maraeth licks their own blood off their upper lip.

Charlie roars.

He lunges!!!!!

LOW BLOW!!!!!!!!!!!

Maraeth buries a knee into Charlie’s groin and drives him backward into the ropes.

Charlie bounces forward in a daze- - - -

Maraeth hooks him- - - -

FLOAT OVER NORTHERN LIGHT SUPLEX!

They keep it locked- - - -

SECOND FLOAT OVER!

They kick up - - - - THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM!

BRIDGE!!!!!

1!

2!!

NO!!!

Charlie breaks the bridge and scrambles to his side, dragging his leg like it’s no longer working.

Maraeth’s smile falters for the first time.

They crawl to the corner.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

And they pull up the last table.

They set it up in the corner.

BG: Oh God… there’s one left?

JC: We are officially in overtime, Brody. And someone’s going through that table, or they’re going to die trying.

Charlie wipes the blood from his eyes, shakes his head, and growls something we can’t hear.

Maraeth hears it.

They step forward.

Charlie steps in.

Another collar-and-elbow? No.

Charlie throws a wild left, misses!

Maraeth ducks behind!

SAITO SUPLEX!

Charlie crashes down awkwardly on his shoulder and neck.

He’s motionless for a moment, then a twitch.

Maraeth drags him toward the table in the corner.

They drag him up by the wrist. Position him.

Backs into the opposite corner.

They scream. Their body tenses like a coiled spring.

They sprint.

RUNNING KNEE!!!!

NO!

CHARLIE CATCHES THEM OUT OF THE AIR!!!

RUNNING POWERSLAM!!!!!!!

NO, WAIT - - - - -

HE TRANSITIONS INTO THE DOUBLE UNDERHOOK!!

JC: NO WAY. HE’S GOT IT! HE’S GOT IT!

DEVIL HOOK DROP THROUGH THE TABLE!!!

WOOD EXPLODES across the ring like a shotgun blast. The table ceases to exist under the combined weight and force.

Charlie stays on top.

Dead weight.

A hand flops across Maraeth’s body.

Muscles drops.

1!

2!!

3!!!

WINNER: CHARLIE NICKLES!

The bell rings but the crowd doesn’t cheer, they exhale.

Charlie doesn’t move.

Maraeth doesn’t move.

Muscles Marinara, eyes seem to falter back to their normal hue, he looks confused but raises Charlie’s limp arm from the wreckage.

JC: Charlie Nickles has done it. Somehow, some way, he’s crawled out of hell with a win.

BG: He survived Maraeth tonight. And I don’t think this is over. Not by a long shot.

Maraeth lies motionless beneath the shattered table, their mouth parted slightly, their eyes rolled into the back of their head.

Charlie rolls off them slowly, dragging his body out of the debris like a creature born from the wreckage.

He doesn’t smile.

He doesn’t gloat.

He just sits upright.

Covered in blood.

Staring at Muscles Marinara like he might rip his head off too.

JC: This match broke every rule. Every body. And maybe… every mind.

BG: Charlie Nickles may have just walked through the Black Rainbow… and out the other side.

Charlie stumbles up to his feet and motions for the mic…

With a microphone in hand, Charlie lays his cold eyes down onto Maraeth who is seen starting to crawl in a different direction now. He lets out an exhausted laugh, wipes away some blood and smiles.

Now where do you think you’re going? Did you really think I’d let you just crawl away from this?

Charlie limps over to her, and grabs a handful of her matted, bloodied hair…

OH BOYS???!!! The Nickleman looks out toward the X-Tron Would you mind helping me clean this roadkill up out of MY ring?

And right on cue…

KIERAN KING’S MUSIC HITS!

BG: THE KING IS BACK!

The Nickleman looks up the ramp in shock, immediately letting go of Maraeth as soon as Kieran steps onto the stage. The King of the XWF smirks at the top of his ramp before he rolls up his sleeves and charges down towards the ring! Maraeth rolls out beneath the bottom rope just as Kieran rolls in from the other side! Kieran quickly rises to his feet, standing toe-to-toe with the damaged Nickleman!

JC: In a strange twist of fate here, I think The King might have inadvertently saved the leader of the Black Rainbow here, despite everything they've put him through.

BG: I don't think it's about that tonight! It's about something bigger! It's about the future of the XWF!

Charlie lashes out with the microphone-

But Kieran ducks beneath it!

Kieran turns around and tries to kick Charlie in the gut-

But Charlie blocks the heel of Kieran’s boot with the microphone!

The stout defense echoes throughout the arena, screeching through the PA system as the microphone breaks apart in The Nickleman’s hands!

But then-

THE CORPORATION’S FACTION THEME SONG BLARES THROUGH THE PA SYSTEM!

Charlie’s Corporate Associates appear at the top of the ramp, one-by-one!

MATTHIAS SYN!

DWYANE “THE GROK” JOHNSON!

And then-

THE CORPORATE TITANS!

OSWALD & THIAS WATTS!

The crowd roars with white-hot hatred as The Corporate soldiers crank their necks and crack their knuckles.

JC: This can’t be good for Kieran King! Charlie’s corporate goons just hit the stage- and by God, they’re charging down the ramp!

BG: The King is outnumbered! Kieran needs to call in the cavalry here, or he might end up in a hospital bed before Relentless!

Charlie’s associates slide into the ring one at a time, right after each other. They all pop up as soon as they get to the ring, and begin forming a circle around Kieran. Charlie takes a step back as a blood-soaked grin curls across his lips- but Kieran doesn’t look afraid.

The King just returns the grin.

JC: The Corporation is going to beat the bloody hell out of Kieran King! This was all a trap! Charlie lured Kieran out here with his declaration earlier tonight, and now, he’s going to make him pay!

BG: But not so fast, Jacko! His Majesty looks like he has other plans!

Kieran King snaps his fingers, and looks toward the stage… but nothing happens?

Suddenly there’s a camera feed appearing on the XTron and we see:

JC: That’s Tommy Gunn and the King’s XWF Security forces. And someone has laid them out!

BG: Some-ONE? Some criminal! Who on earth is responsible for-

JC: DOLLY WATERS! DOLLY WATERS IS HERE!

BG: SHE SHOULD BE IN JAIL, JACKIE!

The Universal Champion is bruised and battered and bleeding, but marches her way onto the ramp. A look of fire raging in pupils, as Ode To Joy crescendos over the loud speakers.

Charlie, and King, and The Corporation all stop and look toward the ramp as

JC: Wait a second! She’s not alone, either!

One by one, Dolly is flanked by The Union:

First Mark Flynn

Then Schism

Then Dickie Watson

Then Centurion

Then Atara Raven

Then Corey Smith

JC: That’s a lot of the XWF who have signed onto Dolly’s vision of the future!

BG: A lot? Yeah… but not quite 60%!

Before Dolly even makes a move, The Union charges the ramp!

The Revolutionaries hit the ring in full-force, two at a time right after each other! The first pair in are Atara Raven and Centurion, who charge right at the big man Thias Watts, sending him flying over the top rope with a double dropkick to the chest! Atara follows it up by diving over the ropes with a suicide dive that takes her back outside the ring! Centurion slides out beneath the bottom rope, helping Atara take the fight to Thias on the outside.

The next Revolutionaries to make it in are Schism and Flynn, but as soon as they hit the ring, The Corporation is on top of them! Oswald charges right at Schism with a huge clothesline, taking both himself and Schism out over the top rope!

Syn charges right at Flynn, but Flynn sees it coming after watching Schism go overboard! As Matthias Syn charges forward with a lariat, Flynn drops down, and pulls the top rope along with him- causing Syn to go flying out of the ring! Flynn wastes no time in going aerial himself, following Syn to the outside with a suicide dive of his own!

Just as Flynn flies out, Smith and Watson fly in!

Corey and Dickie lock eyes with Dwyane “The Grok” Johnson, who instructs them to ‘SHUT THEIR MOUTHS AND OBEY PROTOCOLS!’- but the Revolutionaries don’t listen! They just smirk, then give it the ol’ DOUBLE SUPER KICK TO THE FACE!

The Grok flies out of the ring!

And Corey and Dickie go flying right behind him, with a double suicide dive of their own!

CHAOS BREAKS OUT ACROSS THE STATE FARM CENTER!

The Corporation and The Revolution duke it out in front of the front-row fans, giving them every dollar of entertainment they paid for! Centurion, Smith, Watson, Atara, Oswald and more trade blows just outside the ring as the audience goes berserk!

Meanwhile, DOLLY WATERS HERSELF HAS SLID INTO THE RING!

And the audience blows the roof off the arena!

Dolly, Kieran, and Charlie stand alone in the center of the ring- with all 6 eyes affixed to the ‘Big Gold’ belt slung over Dolly’s shoulder!

Dolly’s face twists with defiance as she marches forward, face to face with Kieran first as she thrusts the championship into the air, mouthing something inaudible. Quickly she snaps her neck around to Charlie, glaring at him with daggers for eyes.

King shoves Dolly away from him and Charlie swings for her head!

The champion ducks and swings back!

Now all three are standing in the center of the ring exchanging blows!

BG: This is pandemonium, Jack!

JC: And this is the unfortunate end of our broadcast!

BG: WHAT?!

JC: Tune into Relentless IX to see how the rest of this story unfolds!

THANK YOU TO…

OUR MATCH WRITERS
“The Bashmaster” Barry Masterson
Peter Principle
Bobby Bourbon
Charlie Nickles
Liam Desmond

OUR SEGMENT WRITERS
Dolly Waters
Charlie Nickles
King Kieran
Sarah Wolf
Clutch Cassidy

AND EVERYONE WHO RP’D!

]]>

September - 1 - 2025

LIVE FROM STATE FARM ARENA

ATLANTA, GEORGIA

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Corey Black

Latoya Hixx
- vs -
Larry Tact

Bobby Bourbon
- vs -
Isaiah King

Charlie Nickles
- vs -
Maraeth

Warfare kicks off with “The Gentle Art of Making Enemies” ripping through State Farm Arena.

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

Dickie Watson
- vs -
Corey Black
Singles

WINNER: DICKIE WATSON

…

TACTILIZING ONE

GAME CHANGER

LIMIT BREAKER

From there, the beat triggers the house lights to illuminate the figure of Larry Tact standing on stage. He's looking down as he hones in for the battle ahead.

JC: Larry Tact! TPW Hall of Famer! Multiple time World Champion!

BG: And one of the best mat technicians to ever run dem ropes, Jacko!

JC: Absolutely, Brody! Larry came inches… INCHES from ending the undefeated streak of ‘Micheal Graves’ and ending his historically-long Anarchy Title reign! The closest ‘Graves’ has come to dropping the belt up to this point!

BG: But now he’s back on Warfare! And Larry is famous for re-tooling his game… After two decades in the business, it’s amazing how often he’s adding new tricks and moves to his arsenal.

JC: The greats are never satisfied with simply being great! And Larry is one of the greats! But can he overcome the inhuman strength of Latoya Hixx tonight!

After a few seconds, Tact whips his head up and trudges to one side of the stage, firing up the fans by pointing towards different sections. He goes to the other side of the stage and beats his chest with a hand before opening his arms to the reaction of the crowd. "THIS IS YOUR SPOTLIGHT!" Larry bellows as the audience hoots and hollers back. He returns to center stage and points to either side of the crowd. The lights cut out except for green, gold, and crimson spotlights highlighting the audience in attendance. Larry makes his way down to the ring, pounding fists with some fans at ringside before hanging onto the middle rope and pulling himself up onto the apron.

Facing the stands, he opens his arms up and puffs his chest out to receive the feverish energy of his supporters. Wiping his boots on the apron, Tact proceeds into the ring. He climbs a turnbuckle and again holds his arms out. “BEST GAME WINS!!!” he exclaims to another pop before descending and making his final preparations for the match.

JC: Here we go, folks! Larry Tact, the ultimate ring general, the Tactiliizing One! Against the sheer powerhouse Latoya Hixx!"

BG: Don’t let that 'ring general' flim flam talk fool ya, Jack-o! Larry’s a killer for sure, but it’s only gonna take ONE of Latoya’s tree-trunk arms swingin’ in the right direction, and ol’ Larry boy’s legacy gets smeared into the mat like a bug on a windshield!

The official signals to the timekeeper!

DING DING!

LATOYA HIXX
- vs -
LARRY TACT
Singles Match

Winner: Larry Tact

BOBBY BOURBON
- vs -
ISAIAH KING
Singles Match

WINNER: BOBBY BOURBON!

"Dethrone" by Bad Omens plays throughout the arena. The lights go out. Once the beat drops, a spotlight shines on the entryway, where Solomon Kline appears inside the light, clad in a black hoodie over his ring gear and kneeling on his right knee. As the lyrics come in, he stands, removes his hood and surveys the crowd as sparks rain down around him. He grooves his way toward the ring, and high fives fans along the way. He circles the ring and slides under the bottom rope. He continues rocking out to the song and goes to the turnbuckle to let out a primal scream, singing along to the lyric, "Here am I, take me to the pearly gates, so I can look you in the eye when I spit in your face!"

He returns to the ring and readies himself for the match.

JC: And here comes the son of one of the XWF’s most favorite legends!

BG: Hopefully Solomon doesn’t pull a ‘Raja Jackson’ in the ring tonight!

JC: I don’t even know why you’d say that!

BG: Because I get the feeling that this match is going to be a BLOODBATH!

Winner and STILL XWF TELEVISION CHAMPION - SARAH WOLF

Charlie Nickles
- vs -
Maraeth

WINNER: CHARLIE NICKLES!

]]> <![CDATA[WARFARE - August 18th, 2025]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49188 Tue, 19 Aug 2025 10:36:07 -0700 Peter Principle]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49188

August - 18 - 2025

LIVE FROM THE PAYCOM CENTER

OKLAHOMA CITY, OKLAHOMA

Solomon Kline & Aidan Collins
- vs -
Razor Blade & Latoya Hixx
1 Collab/4k
Winners Challenge Tag Champions @ Relentless

Isaiah King
- vs -
Kieran King

Non-Title
Dolly Waters
- vs -
Dickie Watson

JC: Folks, most nights your main event is the Television title defense!

BG: But tonight, the card is so packed, we’re opening the show with it! And don’t get it twisted, Jacko! These two could main event any card across the planet with how much talent is about to be in that ring!

Full black.

The stage alights in red. Smoke gathers around the stage. Gods by Sleep Token plays as XXXVI appears, rising up out of the red lights amidst the smoke, his hands gathered in prayer. He steps out onto the stage and takes in the mixed reaction from the crowd. He shakes his out his head and shoulders and begins to walk down the ramp, hands still in prayer pose. Half way down, he spreads his hands apart and reaches out both arms in T-Pose as he crouches, sauntering down the rest of the ramp toward the ring.

JC: There he is! The mysterious XXXVI!

BG: Still don’t know what happened to I through XXV.

JC: Roman numeral humor aside! XXXVI had earned a legitimate opportunity to compete against Them No Good Bastards for the Anarchy Tag Team championships! And if it wasn’t for being booked alongside a completely unwilling Mister Oz… He showed streaks of brilliance against the Bastards!

BG: He’s no joke, Jackie boy! Tonight’s another title shot! And he doesn’t have a reluctant partner holding him back… What he does have is one of the toughest, most ruthless women in the XWF as an opponent!

He climbs onto the apron, outstreches his arms and then enters, rolling backward over the top rope and spins toward the center of the ring, arms outstretched like a helicopter. He then sits, cross legged in the dead center of the ring, hands once again in prayer pose and bows his head. Full black again, then a single, red cone of light bathes him in the ring as fire explodes out of each turnbuckle.

…

The lights fade out suddenly. As her theme begins. the lights flicker on slowly and steadily, until they maintain a muted version of themselves, which Sarah stands in the middle of the entrance way. The lights follow Sarah as she slowly makes her way to the ring.

JC: I can’t speculate whether Lucy Wylde, the most recent XWF Television champion, regrets asking Sarah Wolf to GIVE A FUCK going into their match… But we saw a side of Sarah Wolf I think we’d never seen before.

BG: She goddamned dislocated her to escape a submission move, Jack! She was, pardon the pun… RELENTLESS in seeking to defeat Lucy Wylde! And she did so!

JC: And speaking of Relentless, it’s quite an accomplishment holding a title going into the biggest show of the year! But before Lucy won it, the TV title went through a hot potato phase of champions trading the belt for multiple shows… Will XXXVI be the latest to take the hot potato? Or is the belt at home on Sarah Wolf’s waist?

On either side of her are no hands outreached, no fans trying to gain her attention. Just angry faces and concerned looks. Sarah steps into the ringside area, and moves to the ring area, rolling in, and rolling to her feet. She positions herself in the corner of her choosing, and waits.

DING DING!

15:00
14:59
14:58

JC: And We are underway! Sarah Wolf versus the mysterious XXXVI for the XWF Television Title — and already the masked man is on the move!

BG: He’s got be on the move, Jack! If he wants the belt, he’s gotta take it in the next fifteen minutes!

XXXVI darts across the ring like a streak of light, his boots barely touching canvas before he’s springboarding off the ropes. He whips into a…

SLING BLADE!

…No! Wolf manages to duck under the takedown attempt! As XXXVI lands on his side, Wolf extends to try and trap her opponent to the mat… but XXXVI pops back up instantly, not letting himself linger near Wolf!

JC: XXXVI very intentionally keeping his distance in the ring! Attack, retreat, attack, retreat!

BG: Smart man, Castillo. XXXVI knows you don’t hang around the fire too long or you’re gonna get burned.

Wolf allows a cold and inhuman grin to stretch across her face, before cracking her neck to one side. As XXXVI hops from one foot to the other, Wolf pushes to her feet deliberately, eyes locked on her quick adversary… As she steps forward, he staggers backwards…

JC: XXXVI not interested in letting Wolf’s hands anywhere near his body!

BG: He knows how dangerous Sarah Wolf is, Jack! One grip from Sarah Wolf and your body is going to get BROKEN! Slowly and AGONIZINGLY!

Wolf’s face betrays a little impatience! She speeds up, surging forward…

Grapple attempt!

…DUCKED UNDER!

XXXVI circles around and Wolf thrusts past him, then snaps forward with a spinning backfist!

That clips Wolf on the jaw!

JC: First blow of the match!

BG: Finally, some action!

Wolf’s jaw is rocked… but XXXVI doesn’t let up, immediately following it with a dropkick to Wolf’s knees!

JC: XXXVI trying to take Wolf to the mat here… The submission game is also XXXVI’s bread and butter!

Wolf stumbles, looking like she’s going to drop on her back…

But catches herself on the ropes!

JC: XXXVI throwing everything he can at her! Those strikes are connecting, but Sarah Wolf isn’t showing the kind of hurt you’d expect.

BG: That’s cuz this lady LOVES pain! She loves to receive it… and she really, REALLY loves to dish it out!

13:17
13:16
13:15

As Wolf catches her breath by the ropes, XXXVI continues the attack! He leaps, launching off the ropes!

Springboard moonsa-

WHAM! Wolf, tired of the acrobatic performance, catches XXXVI mid-twist with a BOOT to the gut that drops the mysterious enigma straight to the mat!

JC: WOW! What a strike by Sarah Wolf!

BG: Think she was tired of XXXVI buzzing around like a butterfly so she decided to sting like a bee!

XXXVI crashes down, rolling with the impact to try and stay out of Wolf’s grip!

…But Wolf is already on him — twisting, reaching for his leg, attempting to cinch in the…

Calf Slicer!

BG: Aaand just like that, Wolf’s got her teeth sunk in!

JC: Not where XXXVI wants to be at all!

12:22
12:21
12:20

Wolf snarls as she drags XXXVI to the mat, wrenching his leg at an angle. For a moment, it looks like she has him locked tight — her back brace flexing as she leans into the torque. The crowd roars, half in shock, half in fear of an early ending.

But then — like smoke slipping through a clenched fist — XXXVI wriggles his frame sideways, twisting his body with improbable agility. He kicks free, tumbling into a handspring and landing upright across the ring.

…Wolf looks down at her hands… as if trying to figure out how she just lost her grip… Her lips curl upward again — not disappointed, but intrigued.

JC: Wow! Unbelievable escape by XXXVI! Sarah Wolf was a heartbeat away from crushing XXXVI’s leg, but he’s still alive in this one!

BG: But Wolf is learning his tricks! It’s a matter of time before she catches him and pops his head right off his shoulders!

12:42
12:41
12:40

The two circle once more, locked in a tense stalemate.

Wolf again pounces first, but XXXVI somersaults under! Wolf immediately follows her attack with a boot… But XXXVI rolls to the side to evade the attack!

JC: XXXVI is sticking and moving out there! He’s dodging everything Wolf is throwing at him!

BG: But he ain’t gonna win the TV Title on points like a boxing match, Jack! He’s gotta find a way to get back in this one!

Wolf pounces once more for a takedown!

…But XXXVI leaps over! As Wolf spins around, XXXVI runs up the turnbuckle! Missile dropk-

…NO! Wolf catches the challenger with a dropkick in midair! XXXVI once again eats mat!

JC: Man! I thought XXXVI had it that time!

JC: Sarah Wolf is in TOTAL CONTROL!

XXXVI crashes to the mat, writhing, clutching his gut…

11:32
11:31
11:30

Wolf crawls toward him, her eyes burning with grim delight. She grabs hold of his arms and legs, twisting his body into an unnatural arc with a Spinal Lock. XXXVI howls in anguish, pounding the mat, his masked face contorted in raw pain.

But Wolf doesn’t hold it. She releases — only to snake around, folding him into an Octopus Stretch. She leans back, wrenching his torso, her teeth bared in something between a snarl and a grin. She shakes her head slowly, savoring the sound of his suffering.

JC: Oh geez, c’mon… Wolf’s not even trying to win! She’s torturing her opponent, one hold after another!

BG: This is art to Sarah Wolf. Every scream’s another brush stroke.

Wolf shifts again, this time yanking him into a Kimura Lock, then a Calf Slicer, seamlessly chaining the agony together. Each escape only feeds into another submission, the transitions fluid, cruel, almost elegant. XXXVI’s body writhes like a ragdoll, yet through it all, he never taps, his hand hovering but refusing to fall.

The crowd surges, screaming for XXXVI to keep fighting… As Wolf savors every twitch of his muscles, delights in every spasm as his body slowly breaks under the control…

BG: Wolf is letting the seconds tick by here! She’s in no rush because she knows if the time runs out, she retains!

JC: She’s in no rush because she’s a sadist that gets twisted pleasure off of inflicting pain, Brody!

BG: Little of column A, little of column B. Point being, Wolf’s content spending the rest of her time

9:14
9:13
9:12

XXXVI starts to rotate his hips, preparing the same escape he pulled off earlier to evade Wolf’s submission…

He rolls!

…But this time Wolf keeps her weight down! XXXVI rolls onto his back, and Wolf is on top of him!

JC: Impressive counter to XXXVI’s counter from Wolf!

While he’s still caught, he has managed to move… XXXVI tries to reach for the ropes…

But Wolf reaches down and JAMS ON THE DEVILLOCK! (Mandible Claw)!

JC: This is it! The Devil Lock! This one could be over right now!

BG: She’s got it LOCKED like a vice! She could do ventriloquist work with his jaw is how deep it’s locked in!

The crowd gasps as XXXVI thrashes helplessly, his body arcing in panic.

XXXVI’s arm shakes… He reaches backwards… The official asks if he can continue…

His hand…

…

HIS HAND!

BG: HE’S GONNA TAP!

…

NO!

His hand wraps around the ropes!

The official orders Wolf to break the hold!

JC: Amazing endurance by XXXVI, managing to stay alive a little longer!

BG: But how much physical toll did it take to withstand the Devil Lock for as long as he did!

7:41
7:40
7:39

XXXVI struggles to pull himself up to his feet… First to the bottom, then the middle rope…

The official backs up Wolf until her opponent has released the ropes… But Wolf slips past the official! Just as XXXVI is standing once more, Wolf grabs XXXVI by the face, ready to lock in the Devillock once more!

BG: Yes! Finish him!

XXXVI clings to the rope behind him as Wolf tries to jam her fist down his gullet…

In one last desperate surge, XXXVI pulls his leg free — and snaps it upward. A blinding high kick catches Wolf clean under the chin! She jerks backward, stunned, spinning on her heel.
JC: Whoa! What a strike by XXXVI! A perfect ten kick there!

XXXVI drags himself up to his feet…, roaring through the mask, and seizes Wolf from behind…

HELLACIOUS GERMAN SUPLEX!

JC: Wow! XXXVI takes control! And he’s bridging for the pin! New Television champion!

The referee drops —

ONE!

TWO!

THR-NO!

Wolf’s body jerking violently off the mat.

JC: Wolf is not beaten yet! But a very close call for XXXVI!

BG: Oh God, I almost had a heart attack there… That was too close!

7:01
7:00
6:59

The crowd erupts, torn between disbelief and adoration. Wolf cradles her back, trying to rise off the mat… But XXXVI clings to the momentum, staggering to his feet. He scrambles behind Wolf, seizing her legs and twisting her into position. The crowd erupts as he locks her in the Tiptoe Through the Tulips — the inverted sharpshooter!

JC: He’s got it! XXXVI’s trademark hold — Tiptoe Through the Tulips!

Wolf’s spine bends backward at a grotesque angle, the pressure wrenching her already damaged back. But instead of panic, Wolf’s lips peel back in a feral grin. She breathes in sharply, almost savoring the agony being poured into her body. Her back arches further, trembling with pain that looks… pleasurable.

BG: Look at her, Castillo — she’s lovin’ this! You can’t hurt Sarah Wolf the way you hurt other people. Pain just makes her hungrier!

XXXVI growls through the mask, digging deeper, twisting her legs with more torque.

Wolf’s face contorts into ecstasy…

Until XXXVI reels backwards, planting his back against the mat to swing Wolf upward into a Romero Special, bridging her into the air in a full surfboard stretch!

JC: Incredible move by XXXVI! That is separating Wolf’s shoulder blades is how devastating this move is!

Wolf’s face contorts… Uncomfortable… Like the pain is… for once, overwhelming!

JC: Oh my gosh! XXXVI’s got Wolf is pain! REAL pain!

The crowd roars at the sheer feat of strength and balance…

Wolf’s hands paw through the air, trying to escape… The official asks Wolf if she can continue…

Wolf…

WOLF!

JC: New Television champion!

…Wolf thrashes violently, rolling her weight sideway! Both tumble free, collapsing in a heap on the mat!

BG: Phew! Incredible escape by Sarah Wolf! XXXVI could have put the foot to the throat, but Wolf slipped out like a rat through a drainpipe!

5:45
5:44
5:43

JC: Still plenty of time on the clock… But both these competitors look like they’ve been through an all-out war already!

Indeed, Wolf and XXXVI both stagger to their feet, both exhausted, both desperate.

XXXVI spins for a…

ROUNDHOUSE KICK!

…

NO! Wolf ducks low!

XXXVI’s momentum whirls him around — right into Wolf’s waiting hand!

JC: Oh no… she’s got him!

BG: XXXVI is about to get LXXXVI’d!

…

BG: Cuz LXXXVI is 86 in roman num-

JC: No, yup, I got it, thanks Brody.

Wolf hoists XXXVI into the air and SLAMS him down with a thunderous…

CHOKESLAM!

XXXVI’s back arches violently on impact — and in a seamless, predatory transition, Wolf drops to her knees, jamming her gloved hand deep into his mouth.

DEVIL LOCK! Wolf’s fingers clamping tight around his throat!

JC: Wolf’s got XXXVI in the center of the ring! Devil Lock is locked in! Can XXXVI pull off one more miracle escape!?!

XXXVI thrashes wildly, trying to bridge his shoulders off the mat, his legs kicking, his arms clawing at Wolf’s wrist….

But Wolf forces her palm deeper, her expression twisted in sadistic rapture.

His movements grow weaker…

Slower…

…

Until finally, his body goes limp!

The ref calls for the bell!

WINNER AND STILL XWF TELEVISION CHAMPION: SARAH WOLF!

JC: He’s out! He’s out! Sarah Wolf has put XXXVI to sleep with the Devillock!

Wolf leans back, releasing her grip only after the referee pries her hand away. She sits on her knees, eyes half-lidded, her breath slow and savoring, like she’s consumed something intoxicating. Across from her, XXXVI lies motionless, chest rising in shallow gasp!

JC: A very impressive showing by XXXVI who had brief bursts where it looked like he might pull off winning the Television title! But Sarah Wolf secures another impressive victory and keeps the Television title!

The cameras pans to the COO high up in his luxury suite.

JC: The boss! Seemingly well traveled of late.

BG: Even had stops on Anarchy and that's almost unheard of. The man can't be bothered to oversee Anarchy.

JC: Which is probably why it's in such disarray, but nevertheless, we persist.

Steve Sayors, backstage journalistic ordinaire, no, there's nothing ‘extra’ about him, enters the suite with a microphone in hand.

JC: Steven, what've you got for us?

SS: Thanks Jacuinde. I'm standing by with COO Thaddeus Duke as he watches from above here in Oklahoma City.

Sayors takes a seat next to Thaddeus.

SS: Thad, Justin York has been calling you out for what seems like months. He's challenged you one on one, he's challenged the XWF as a while to a four of four. He cost you a match against Enigma back at Rebellion. More recently you cost him a match at Bedlam in a match against the Big Ticket Harvey Marx at a Valor event.

What's the answer? Will you be accepting these challenges?

Thad smirks, scoffs, then turns to Steve.

”I gave Yorkie my answer some weeks back on Anarchy that I wouldn't accept his challenge. Not because of cowardice like he has tried to claim.

“I dog walked him once. He was a literal thorn in my side for months and months after we met in IIW.

“I finally agreed to face him on neutral territory for the Denzel Porter Invitational and I beat him in seven minutes without breaking a sweat.

“Where's the draw?”

”Moreover, Thad, he also…”

”Perhaps I'm reconsidering…”

”You're really gonna leave us hangin’ on that one?”

Thad grins.

”Yes.”

”And the four on four challenge that would potentially see four from Pro Wrestling Valor come to Relentless and face four of our XWFers?”

”I have no ill will toward Valor or their roster. In fact, there’s a wide number of folks over there that either personally or professionally I have a ton of respect for.

“Carve it in stone, Steve. The XWF accepts the challenge for Relentless.”

”Is it possible you could tell us…”

”XWF legend Blizzard, former Universal Champion Charlie Nickles, multi-time everything champion Isaiah King- if that is his real name- and the bestie of besties, current 24/7 briefcase holder, Sebastian Everett-Bryce the thirrrrrrd.”

”Uhhhh… That's um. He dropped the third from his name.”

”I know but I do what I want.”

”Last question, and it's a big one… Rumors are swirling that you…”

”Yes, I'm leaving the big chair officially at Relentless. I gave a year of myself when I had an interest in anything but running this company.”

JC: oof.

BG: Wait is he for real?

JC: Yeah, I heard that rumor too.

BG: *siiiiigh*

SS: There you have it folks, straight from the horse's mouth. The four versus four pitting Valor against the XWF is officially greenlit for Relentless!

The crowd are seen chatting amongst one another when the lights suddenly go out in the arena, causing a little buzz from the crowd.

''Wrestling has more than one... royal family.''

As soon as those words are heard, the crowd at Kroger Field erupted as you heard the commentator's reaction as well.

JC: Here they come, the fan favorites of the XWF's tag-team division! The American Storm!

Smoke emanated from the stage, completely covering as you weren't able to see anything through it and before you knew it, Razor Blade and Latoya Hixx are seen walking through the smoke! A big smile on Blade’s face as the crowd erupted even louder at the sight of the American Nightmare and the Storm.

JC: Say what you will about The American Storm: but be careful, because tonight, they're planning to make you EAT THOSE WORDS! With a #1 contendership to the XWF tag-team championships on the line here tonight, you can bet the bank that The American Storm are going to give it all they got!

BG: But will that be enough, Jacko?! They're going against some of the best in the business tonight!

''Adrenaline, in my soul
Every thought out of control
Do it all to get them off their feet''

JC: At XWF Rebellion the American Storm almost won a #1 contender’s match for the Anarchy Tags, but through screwery and shenanigans, they were robbed of the victory! But here tonight, they have a chance to right that wrong and earn their shot at the REAL tag-team championships!

BG: The REAL tag-team championships?! Don't let Them No Good Bastards hear you say that!

''Crowd is here, about to blow
waitin' for me to start the show
out the curtain, lights go up I'm home
Whoooooooooooooa!''

The opening guitar riff the Deftones’ “Kimdracula” hits the arena speakers as multicolored lights pour over the crowd. The lights slowly rotate color in a mesmerizing, psychedelic fashion as the camera pans over the excited crowd. They stand and cheer, partially excited to be on television but also excited because they know that this music signifies that they’re about to be in the presence of an XWF Legend.

Our view shifts to the entrance walkway, which is now blocked by a large pane of glass. On the glass, a name is painted:

THE TRIBE

The viewer only has a moment to take in the glass before the glass explodes towards the camera as a foot kicks through and explodes the whole display!

The crowd erupts in a huge pop.

Aidan Collins is here with Solomon Kline!

The two are decked out in their custom ring gear, putting on a show for the fans. The each make their own moves down the ramp, slapping hands and showing off!

Kline rolls under the ropes whole Collins walks up the ring steps and walks down the apron to the center of the ring. He points out to the crowd before folding his arms in front of himself, giving the crowd ample time to pop off photos with their cell phones.

Aidan enters the ring through the middle rope. He shakes the ring official’s hand, now ready for the contest to begin.

JC: And here come THE TRIBE! One of the most dynamic and exciting tag-teams in the XWF, these two are finally getting their chance to square off for the most prestigious belts in all of tag-team wrestling!

BG: But first, they're going to have make it through THE STORM!

JC: Ain't that right, Brody! These two tag-teams are rip-roaring and ready for action tonight!

BG: With everything on the line, which one of these tag-teams is going to walk out of Warfare with a Road to Relentless paved in championship gold?!

JC: Stay tuned to find out!

Solomon Kline & Aidan Collins
- vs -
Razor Blade & Latoya Hixx
1 Collab/4k
Winners Challenge Tag Champions @ Relentless

DING! DING! DING!

Collins and Hixx start the match off in the ring, with Kline and Blade posted up outside the ropes. As Hixx begins approaching Collins with vicious intent, Aidan simply drops down to one knee....and pulls out a small little box!

BG: Wait...what the hell is going on, Jacko'?!

JC: Well, Aidan Collins DID say he wanted to marry Latoya Hixx in his most recent vignette- but I thought he was simply joking!

BG: This proposal doesn't look like a laughing matter to me!

Kline visibly facepalms from his corner as Latoya Hixx looks downright perplexed by this odd gesture. Aidan remains on one knee, pledging his undying love towards Latoya....but I guess she must've gotten the 'ick', because she simply slaps the small box right out of Aidan's hands! Then, Latoya hits the ropes! The box soars across the ring, flying open from the force of the contact!

The diamond ring flies out of the box, just as Latoya Hixx is flying across the ring!

One lucky fan in the front row wins a new engagement ring, while Collins wins a running forearm smash right to the temple!

Collins goes from down on one knee, to just being down!

BG: What a rookie mistake from the XWF vet! You should never let a woman get between you and victory- not even a woman as fine as Mrs. Hixx!

JC: He wanted to marry her, Brody, and we can't blame him for taking his shot!

BG: But can we blame him for letting her take so many shots on him?!

JC: Well...

Latoya Hixx follows up with a slew of kicks to her downed opponent, before she herself drops down to the mat! She hits Collins with a big elbow before mounting him and attempting a rear naked choke! As Latoya straddles Collins from the top, Aidan fights off the chokehold, then throws an elbow back towards Hixx that causes her to lose her grip!

Aidan Collins and Latoya Hixx wrestle on the ground, each angling for position, as Kline and Blade try to get the audience to rally behind their respective partners. Collins and Hixx wrestle around on the mat until "Blizzard" is able to gain a dominant position! Aidan gets into full guard with Hixx, and then looks down at her with a sultry smile.

JC: I think Aidan Collins is enjoying this wrestling match a little too much!

Aidan goes to throw a big elbow- but Latoya Hixx is faster! She lashes out with a jab from the bottom that catches Collins off guard, and forces him off her! Latoya quickly scrambles to her feet, running right towards the ropes before bouncing off them and hitting Collins with a dropkick that keeps him pinned down!

Latoya Hixx makes the cover!

1!

KICKOUT!!!!

Collins blasts Hixx off of him, then dives to his corner to make the hot tag to Kline!

JC: Aidan makes the tag!

BG: Here comes the big dog, Solomon Kline! He's here to lay the hammer down, Jacko!

Kline steps into the ring, where Latoya Hixx is waiting for him....but for some reason, Solomon doesn't seem so sure! Hixx bares a nasty snarl towards Kline, but Solomon just circles around the ring- not engaging her at all!

BG: Wait, what's going on now?!

JC: I think Solomon is afraid to hit a woman!

BG: But he's fought women before! He's fought plenty of women before!

Solomon's nervousness doesn't stop once Hixx charges him! Instead of clipping Hixx with a blow, Solomon just sidesteps her, ducking under her lariat! Hixx looks mad at the disrespect, and tells Solomon to 'come get some!' - but Solomon still isn't feeling up to it!

Solomon ducks under another blow from Hixx, and then another! It looks like they're playing a game of tag in the ring, and Hixx just can't get a hold of him!

Aidan Collins is going ballistic in The Tribe's corner, screaming at Solomon to "SMACK THAT BROAD!".

After some light encouragement from his partner, Solomon finally engages! Kline ducks under another haymaker from Hixx, then...he pushes her back into her corner with half-force!

Latoya looks pissed off, and she steps out from her corner....

But only after Razor Blade has tagged himself in!

JC: And Razor makes the tag! Latoya doesn't seem happy about it, but she doesn't have the choice!

BG: Finally, the showdown we all paid to see! BLADE VS KLINE!

The crowd gets electric as Razor Blade and Solomon Kline square off inside the ring! Kline and Blade both charge with a full-head of steam. Blade lashes out with a lariat, but Kline ducks under it. When Klines bounces off the ropes, he comes charging back towards Blade, taking him out with a lariat of his own!

But Blade doesn't stay down for long. The pure athlete kips up almost immediately, much to the surprise of Kline! Blade quickly fires back with a liver-punch that causes Kline to keel over, then, Blade brings Kline down to the mat with a quick snap DDT! Blade covers Kline for the pin!

1!

KLINE KICKS OUT WITH A RIGHTEOUS FURY!

Blade tries to keep Kline grounded with a few big elbows after the kick-out, but Kline won't have it! Kline gets back to his feet, and starts to look for a tag.....but his partner is nowhere to be found!

BG: Where is Aidan Collins?!

That's when you see Aidan standing over in The American Storm's corner, chatting up "The Storm" herself!

JC: It looks like he's trying to wife up Latoya Hixx- and if her smiling face is any indication, his 'rizz' is working!

Kline barks at Collins to focus, but Collins just yells for Kline to 'DUCK'!

And duck Kline does!

Right beneath a running forearm from Blade-

But Blade can't stop his momentum-

AND HE RUNS RIGHT INTO LATOYA HIXX, KNOCKING HER OFF THE APRON- AND OUT COLD!

BG: Blade just took out his own tag-team partner, all for talking to another guy!!!

JC: I'm pretty sure that's not what happened, Brody!

Collins looks pissed! He was just cockblocked by Razor Blade!

Collins steps into the ring, despite the protests from the referee. Blade backs away from Collins, demanding that he leave the ring and follow the rules- but it's no use!

Aidan grabs a hold of Razor Blade before putting his opponent in the ripcord position, then Kline hits the Ashes to Ashes forearm smash and then Aidan transitions into the Hell’s Kaleidoscope ripcord spinning lariat; Aidan slingshots opponent into Kline’s Ashes to Ashes forearm smash; Aidan top-rope double stomp into Kline’s Dust to Dust Vertebreaker; Kline slingshots opponent into Aidan’s Ice Pick spear; Kline lifts opponent into power bomb position and then Aidan hits a top rope Ice Pick!

BG: HOLY SHIT, JACKO! THAT WAS A LOT OF STUFF!

JC: Aidan Collins and Solomon Kline! Now that's a tag-team signature move if I've ever seen one!

The referee screams for Aidan Collins to leave the ring, and he finally does- but does it even matter anymore?! Solomon Kline hooks Razor's leg for the pin!

1!

2!!

3!!!

WINNERS & NEW #1 CONTENDERS TO THE XWF TAG-TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS - THE TRIBE

When we return from commercial break, both Kieran King and Isaiah King are in the ring, ready to go!

JC: This one could absolutely steal the show tonight, Brody!

BG: You ain' kiddin', Jacko! We have a two-time Universal champion in Isaiah King AND the current TWO-time King of the XWF in Kieran King! This match is EXPLODING with talent!

As both men are in the ring, ready to begin, suddenly the entire arena is interrupted.

JC: What is this?

Bobby Bourbon and Mark Flynn both walk out bedecked in noticeably cheap suits. Bobby is carrying a table, and Mark has a case of some sort.

BG: What are they doing here?

The fans roar at the turn of events they're witnessing.

BB: Oklahoma City, we interrupt your regularly scheduled match this evening and bring you something completely different!

MF: What I believe Bobby is trying to say is we are exploiting rule 226.32.67a, which notes if a second party comes out onto the stage after the competitors have come out for a match, if the party of the second part are wearing a suit and/or suits, they, the party of the second part, may alter the stipulations of said match!

JC: What? That's a rule?

BG: I mean, it happens at a wrestling show somewhere daily, Jackie.

BB: Frankly, your corporate overlords have stunk like butts at giving you, the fans, the action you deserve.

MF: So we are substituting our own action here this evening!

BB: Correct. However, as active competitors, there is a clause that states we can not be suits changing matches!

Both Mark and Bobby reach into their pockets.

JC: Brody, rule 226.32.67a clearly states no active competitors may put on a suit to do what Bobby and Mark are doing! It’s a wrestling stadium parking regulation!

BG: That’s not them, it's Christopher K. Clinton, Esq., and Albert Poppinfresh, P.I., Jackie.

The camera returns to see the quite falsely mustachioed Clinton and Poppinfresh.

CKC: Oklahoma City, we are here to announce Revolutionary Entertainment!

AP: We, as representatives of representatives of the Revolution…

CKC: And explicitly anti-King… More specifically, Kings that run around attacking their own subjects!

Kieran: THIS IS BULLSHIT. From inside the ring, Kieran explodes angrily, sensing a fix is in!

CKC: Awwww, Kiwi’s mad he’s not fighting a helpless manager this week… Did anybody here vote for Kieran King?

Some mild buzz from the anti-mainstream, puro wrestling crowd!

CKC: Anybody here a fan of DOLLY WATERS?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

CKC: Sounds like another referendum to me, Kickles!

…Kieran stews angrily.

CKC: You’re not wrong tho… Rule 2226.32.67a? That’s… a fun little bit. We can’t actually come out here and declare a new stipulation for your match based on some pre-exisitng rule about interruptions.

JC: Phew, okay, good, some order out here!

CKC: Contracts, however? That’s a different story!

JC: …What?

CKC: See… I, as Christopher K. Clinton, Esquire… the official litigator of the Revolution… I briefly had a chance to review Dolly Waters’ new contract… which includes significant provisions to create a NEW WRESTLING UNION!

The crowd pops!

…

CKC: But also!

…CKC’s hand weaves through the air.

CKC: I added a little… sub-clause… that the XWF Board signed… either without reading… OR they’re okay with the Revolution setting the stipulation for Kieran King’s next match!

JC: No way!

CKC: It’s all there! Black-and-white! Clear as crystal!

[bobby]AP: YOU STOLE FIZZY LIFTING DRINKS!

CKC: …Nope, doesn’t… the rest of the monologue doesn’t apply here.

AP: Oh.

…

AP: ANYWAY! As we were saying… We, as representatives of representatives of the Revolution… are hereby changing the stipulations of this match to be King versus King in a Chessling Match!

The crowd goes absolutely bananas at the mention of a Chessling match!

JC: Brody, we haven't seen a Chess Wrestling match since Bobby Bourbon and Mark Flynn squared off in one for the Universal Championship!

BG: And it looks like we're watching it from backstage.

Bobby Albert shoos the announce team away so he and his compatriot can take over, almost as though he does this a lot.

CKC: Alright, XWF viewing audience, we are now broadcasting.

AP: Neither competitor was expecting a Chess Wrestling match here tonight, Clinton.

CKC: They were not, Albert!

Kieran continues to vocalize his intense displeasure… Until Zay calls him out for whining about the rule change, telling him ‘LET’S GO ALREADY’... Kieran begrudgingly obliges!

CKC: Isaiah, clearly more okay with last-minute changes… He’s just eager to beat Kieran’s face off his skull!

AP: I bet Isaiah being from New York knows a lot of those old guys that play chess in the park.

*ding*ding*ding*

Isaiah King
- vs -
Kieran King
NEW STIP: Chess Wrestling!
Five Minute Alternating Rounds: Five minutes of wrestling, followed by five minutes of chess…ling. Either competitor may win by pinfall, submission or checkmate

Both Kings tie up!

Kieran switches to a rear waistlock, and transitions to a rear double leg take down!

Kieran maneuvers to a headlock, but Isaiah transitions and gets his feet underneath him

Isaiah transitions to a hammerlock!

Kieran with a back elbow, and another, and sets in a drop toe hold, taking Isaiah to the mat!

CKC: Kieran avoiding a stand up fight with Isaiah, limiting a lot of Isaiah's boxing acumen!

AP: This is the XWF Clinton, home of the best wrestlers in the world, and these men are among the best of the best, though Isaiah is a putz and I'm glad we're ruining his day.

CKC: Well, Kieran recently attacked Schism, Al.

AP: What? All we did was make him chessle? I should be dislocating his organs right now!

CKC: SIT DOWN ALBERT.

Kieran sets in a reverse armbar, but Isaiah leverages into position so Kieran has no torque!

Isaiah pivots and rolls Kieran onto his shoulders!

1..

2..

Kieran rolls out of the pin, moving to grab a leg, and he sets in a knee bar!

Isaiah rotates, and reverses the leverage, and delivers the heel of his boot to Kieran's solar plexus!

Another boot from Isaiah to Kieran!

Kieran releases the leg, and Isaiah is to his feet!

Kieran refuses to stand!

Isaiah beckons for Kieran, but Kieran attempts to kick at the legs of Isaiah from the ground!

CKC: This is the human chess match of wrestling at play, Albert.

AP: Whatever, shouldn't one of these guys have smashed the other with a cool move or a weapon by now?

CKC: Right, Albert, why use finesse and tact when you can brute force a result, especially one you don't expect!

Isaiah with a standing elbow drop!

NO!

Kieran rolls out of the way!

Isaiah is back to his feet quickly, and drops another elbow!

NO!

Kieran rolls aside again!

Isaiah back to his feet, and the bell rings!

CKC: Well, fans, that signals the end of round 1, and we go into the first round of chess!

AP: It would be terrible if someone hit the other with the chess board.

CKC: We went with a plain cardboard board tonight, Al, I think we all remember how the last Chessling match ended.

AP: Yeah, we do. It's why I insisted on cardboard.

Both Isaiah and Kieran sit at a table ringside where a chessboard has been set up.

CKC: And now for the most exciting part of chess wrestling… The chess part! Kieran is white, tonight, and Isaiah is black.

AP: Woah, Clinton, I don't know why we're even bringing that up, sounds like you're spelling “America” with a “K” tonight.

CKC: Albert, um, I meant what pieces they were using on the chessboard.

AP: Oh. I mean, sure, of course.

[Image: PhegyGP.png]

Kieran opens, sliding his pawn to E4.

Isaiah with his pawn to E6.

Kieran with a pawn to D4.

Isaiah wifh a pawn to D5.

Knight to C3 from Kieran.

Isaiah with his kingside Knight to F6.

Kieran goes Bishop, King side, to G5.

CKC: PURE EXHILARATION ON THE EIGHT BY EIGHT!

AP: They are playing the shit out of some chess here on Warfare, Clinton!

CKC: Nuance and purpose taking stage!

AP: But this is Xtreme Chessling!

Bobby Albert gets up from the announce booth and goes to the chess table. He randomly plops two bishops down on the table!

Kieran looks at the added pieces, baffled, as does Isaiah.

They simply remove them.

CKC: You had two extra bishops?

[Bobbh]AP: Look, some of us like it spicy.[/bobby]

Isaiah with his Queenside bishop to E7.

Kieran slides his pawn to E5.

Isaiah goes with the knight he just moved to D7.

Kieran slides his pawn to H4.

Isaiah, Bishop takes Bishop at G5.

Pawn takes Bishop at G5 from H4.

Queen takes Pawn at G5.

CKC: And the black queen is in play!

[Bobbh]AP: I wanted to get RuPaul here for when you said that.[/bobby]

CKC: Too bad.

RuPaul and a bunch of Drag Race All Stars are seen ringside, waving at the camera.

CKC: You son of a bitch.

AP: My mother is a saint, shut your whore mouth.

Clinton stands, furious.

White Queen to D3.

Poppinfresh stands, glaring down at Clinton.

Knight to C6.

Clinton glares up at Poppinfresh, reaching for his mustache.

Knight to F3.

Poppinfresh reaches for his mustache.

Black Queen to G6.

RuPaul beckons to the wild crowd, enthralled by the Chessling Exhibition on display.

A pack of capitalist MAGA dopes stand up, insulting the whole proceedings.

RuPaul flicks them off!

Isaiah and Kieran look disgusted by the notion they were there!

Christopher K. Clinton and Albert Poppinfresh turn to the crowd and head towards the kerfuffle.

White Queen takes Black Queen at G6.

Black pawn takes White Queen at G6.

Clinton punches a man with a MAGA hat in the throat!

Albert gorilla presses some doofus in a Confederate Flag shirt, then hurls them from the stands down to the concrete 20 feet below.

White Knight to B5.

King to E7.

White Knight takes pawn at C7.

The united XWF Universe watches as two kings step around another, playing their games, as two knights make their move and defend the universe.

The bell tolls! The round ends!

[Image: LkAiuQp.png]

Kieran and Isaiah step from the chessboard and watch what is happening in the stands.

A portly man wearing a swastika t-shirt rushes at Clinton, who ducks as Albert catches him, hoisting him up and dropping him with a spinebuster as Clinton hits a Codebreaker. A member of the Westboro Baptist Church steps forward, getting taken to Dick Kick City by Clinton as Alber chokeslams them from the upper deck to below. A Neo Nazi rushes the tandem, eating an uppercut from Albert as Clinton hits a Blue Thunder Bomb. Albert chuckles at the Blue Thunder Bomb, and boots the next MAGA and delivers an absolute gimmick infringing Bobbybomb to the dude onto the metal rail along the stairs. Jaquinde and Brody walk back out onto the stage.

JC: Fans, this is a two for one spectacle…

BG: Don't speak too soon!

Isaiah and Kieran both step over the barricade, and move up towards the brawl Mark and Bobby engaged in up in the stands.

Mark with a kick to the groin of some monstrous fan that dwarves Bobby.

Bobby plants them with a Richter Spike.

JC: The Xtreme Champion getting nasty on Warfare!

BG: His match is next!

Mark and Isaiah both hoist a fat MAGA, and Kieran nails a superkick to him!

Bobby hoists a fat Maga, and Mark, Isaiah, and Kieran all dropkick him!

The unruly fans are subdued!

Mark, Bobby, Kieran, and Isaiah all stand tall, absorbing the sound of the universe appreciating them.

The bell tolls.

[Image: LkAiuQp.png]

Kieran and Isaiah rush back to the chess table as Clinton and Albert readjust their mustaches.

Thunder Knuckles appears, he begins beating the piss out of MAGA fans trying to start a ruckus.

Schism shows up with a scythe, and cracks a MAGA jaw with the handle.

The XWF fans sing to the MAGA group, broken, bloodied, and punted from the arena by XWF talent.

“Sha na nana”

“NA NA NAH NAH”

“HEY HEY HEY”

“GOOD BYE!”

Isaiah and Kieran can't even sit.

Albert Poppinfresh joins Thunder Knuckles for no reason and attempts to tell the crowd that Isaiah and Kieran matter now, because even No Good Bastards know a match worth watching. Bobby and TK are joined by Mark. Bobby, TK, and Mark all stand in the Mezzanine of the Paycom Center. Finally, both Kings set to finish their game of chess, knowing an entire Revolution ensured their match was fair considering they were, after all, three knights.

Black Rook to B8.

White Knight to B5.

Knight to B6.

Pawn to C3.

Black Bishop to D7.

AP: COULD HAVE HAD A SECOND BISHOP!

CKC: Of course you would.

AP: Jesus, you act like I have nothing to say when I can keep a secret. Wanna know a secret about Michael Graves, who stole my van, was a creep with it, left me to hear about…

CKC: Then there was chess!

White Kingside Bishop to D3.

Black moves their rook from B8 to F8.

CKC: Zay bringing his rooks to the party… They both look menacing on the King-side.

White long-castles! O-O-O!

CKC: Great control on display by Kieran, securing the King on the opposite side of those rooks!

Black pawn a6.

CKC: Threatening the knight…

Knight d6!

CKC: And Kieran plants that knight deep in Black’s territory, secured by that pawn on e5!

…

CKC: Separately, my co-commentator and… the man with a win over me at chess wrestling. Has fallen asleep watching the chess.

AP: *zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*

DING DING! The round ends!

The two opponents look very ready to be done with chess, immediately grappling each other!

Isaiah surprises Kieran with a fireman’s carry, dropping him onto his back, transitioning into a head-scissors!

Kieran quickly rotates his hips, wheelbarrowing Isaiah on his back!

1!

2!

Isaiah kicks out!

CKC: Both these men are on the attack! Clearly both men do not want a third chess section!

Isaiah backwards-somersaults onto his feet. Kieran charges forward…

WHAM! Knee life catches Kieran under the chin! Kieran’s legs go all jelly!

CKC: Fantastic counter by Isaiah King!

Kieran backs into the ropes… Isaiah secures him in a front facelock!

Suplex!

…But Isaiah clinches on, dragging Kieran up off his feet!

ANOTHER SUPLEX!

CKC: Two back-to-back suplexes! Is Isaiah going for a third?

Isaiah rotates his hips off the mat, clinching onto Kieran…

He points, indicating he’s going for the trip-

WHAM! Kieran reverses it! Vertical suplex!

CKC: Where the hell does Kieran King find the gas to counter like that? Too good.

Kieran rotates Isaiah off the mat…

And suplexes him again!

The crowd cheers begging for a third… Kieran scoops his hand around his ear, as if trying to hear what they’re saying…

CKC: They want a third suplex, Kiki!

…Kieran nods as if he gets it.

…

Then shoves Isaiah away! The crowd boos!

CKC: Ohmigod, what an asshole. Kieran literally refusing to complete the triple just because the fans want it!

Isaiah falls back toward the ropes… Kieran aims a boot to the chin!

But Isaiah ducks under!

Kieran spins around as Isaiah bounces off the ropes, rotating…

KING’S VERDICT! (Discus punch!)

CKC: Oh shit! For the first time in a calendar year, we might see Kieran King OUT! The ultimate hunter, Isaiah King, just STRUCK!

…Isaiah crawls across the ring, going to hook the leg!

ONE!

TW-DING!

CKC: Saved by the bell!

AP: …mmmmm, wha happen?

CKC: You missed the wrestling, Albert. Thankfully, we have MORE CHESS!

AP: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

…Isaiah snorts angrily, before crawling back to his chair.

…Kieran rubs his jaw, shaking off cobwebs… Crawling back to his seat…

Black Rook to F4!

CKC: Isaiah is on the attack!

…Kieran blinks at the board, seeing double after Isaiah’s punch…

…Pawn to g31

CKC: What!?! Kieran just left his knight hanging! The eval bar just shifted heavy for black!

…Isaiah smiles in disbelief.

Rook takes knight!

Kieran rubs his head, like he’s fighting off a hangover.

Bishop takes pawn on g6!

CKC: Kieran refusing to go the attack, offering his bishop for a rook!

Isaiah ignores the distraction, taking the pawn on f2 with his rook!

CKC: And the king is pinned on the back rank!

Bishop takes the other pawn in front of the rook!

CKC: Gutsy… Now, if Kieran moves the bishop, his rook is at risk!

Black knight to C4!

CKC: Isaiah is on the attack!

Kieran… ignores the threat, taking the pawn on c7!

CKC: That knight takes that free pawn!

Black moves his Rook to b8!

Immediately, White retreats his Knight to c5!

And Rook takes the pawn on b2!

CKC: Oh my! Isaiah has BOTH rooks on that b-file! Kieran has to play this very carefully if he wants to escape…

Isaiah is laser-focused on the board… Calculating every sequence that could take him to checkmate…

Kieran exhales impatiently…

Briefly, his eyes scan upwards…

…He delays…

CKC: Kieran has to make real estate for his king to move… or it’s mate-in-one for Isaiah!

…Delays still.

…Delays further still!

CKC: MAKE A MOVE, KIKI!

Kieran exhales impatiently.

…Suddenly, Bishop to g8!

CKC: WHAT THE?!? KIERAN JUST HUNG MATE-IN-ONE!

Isaiah’s eyes widen. His hand rushes to delivers checkm-

WHAM! Kieran lifts himself from his chair, delivering a knee to Isaiah’s jaw…

CKC: Hey! We’re still on the chess part of chess wrestling!

Kieran scoops himself over the board, clinging to Isaiah’s face!

UGLY ON THE OUTSIDE THROUGH THE CHESS TABLE!

…The official admonishes Kieran…

Kieran holds up a finger…

…

DING DING!

And the chess round’s over…

CKC: ....ohhhhh. I think Kieran intentionally bungled his last few moves trying to draw Isaiah's hunter-like focus to the chessboard away from the timer... And Kieran waited until seconds before the round changes to strike! Disgusting lack of sportsmanship! But... admittedly, very effective!

AP: …wuh happen? Are we at the wrestling part again?

CKC: You missed it, it happened during the chess part.

With the wrestling part resumed, Kieran hooks Isaiah’s leg!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

WINNER: KIERAN KING

B L A C K.

The speakers erupt with distorted violins and a droning, percussive march—less music, more migraine. It gnaws at the eardrums, drawing out a wave of panic-screams and jeers from the crowd before the vocals even begin.

And then—
MARAETH’S voice splits the void:

"…NOW WE BECOME DEATH…"
"…THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS…"
♫ GO BACK TO SLEEP! ♫

CUT TO: THE STAGE.

A Perfect Circle’s Counting Bodies Like Sheep floods the arena, rhythm like blunt trauma—unyielding, brutal, hypnotic. Strobing white light bleeds through clouds of machine fog. Smoke billows like a fire waiting to engulf. A lone spotlight punches down, center stage.

♫ Don't fret precious, I'm here ♫
♫ Step away from the window
♫ And go… BACK TO SLEEP ♫

FROM BELOW—
MARAETH.

Their body rises through the haze like something that should not return. Painted in bruised purples and cosmic ash, Their form is muscular, elegant, and uncanny—what appears to be black ring gear clings to Them in jagged asymmetry, though murmurs persist that it’s body paint, applied with impossible precision. Their right side is overtaken by twisted, rootlike textures that resemble armor grown from inside Them. Their grin is too wide. Their eyes—unnatural, glowing—refuse to look away. And at the center of Their chest, nestled just above the sternum, sits a painted third eye, violet and closed. Watching. Or pretending to.

♫ COUNT BODIES LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ COUNTING BODIES LIKE SHEEP TO THE RHYTHM OF WAR DRUMS ♫

They descend the ramp like a puppet that chewed through its strings—shoulders twitching, head cocked, joints moving in gleefully incorrect directions. One step. A twitch. Another step. A sideways skip. Then laughter—sharp, sudden, wrong. It bursts from Their mouth like They didn’t mean to make it, then keeps coming anyway.

At ringside, They drop to Their belly and slither under the rope, dragging Themself across the mat with lazy fingers, like They’re bored of gravity. Reaching center, They rise to Their knees, then bend backward—slow, too far, too eager—until Their spine curves like a lie told one too many times.

Then They snap forward, mouth wide, throat open, and scream.

It isn’t pain. It isn’t rage.

It’s something older. Something delighted.

And as the echo hangs in the rafters, They giggle softly to Themself—grinning with that Spiral-shaped smile, like They know something you’re too scared to ask. The lights flash. The air clenches. And The bell hasn’t even rung.

The lights in the arena go deep blue as smoke fills the air. Pink and silver laser lights cut through the smoke and it looks fucking rad.

As Bobby's music blares throughout the arena, slowly walking out onto the entrance ramp is Bobby Bourbon. He looks out at the crowd in the arena, cold and stoic, surveying his surroundings. He stops and raises his fists at 45 degree angles, and continues his deliberate plod towards the ring. He raises both arms outward, accepting fives, slaps, daps, knucks, and touches as he does. He looks on into the ring, feeling the energy of every fan he makes contact with. He stops, and begins stomping in place, with the utmost joy to be in front of the XWF crowd. He stops a camera.

"I'm a bad, bad man, but like my home, the XWF, I have plenty of bad, bad fans!"

Bobby climbs the steps, then climbs the nearest ring post half way and raises his fists at 45 degree angles. The lights go back to normal and the music stops. The fans in attendance all echo their sentiments for the match.

"fuck 'em up, bobby, fuck 'em up." stomp stomp. "fuck 'em up, Bobby, fuck 'em up." stomp stomp. "Fuck 'Em Up Bobby, Fuck 'Em Up!" STOMP STOMP! "FUCK 'EM UP BOBBY, FUCK 'EM UP!!!" STOMP STOMP!

JC: Godzilla v. Mothera. Frankenstein v. The Wolf Man. Jason v. Freddy… Bobby Bourbon v. Maraeth.

BG: I get what you’re trying to do, Jack, but I’ve got to disagree. Bobby Bourbon is a monster, for sure, but he’s one of those monsters you can rally behind.

Like a monster truck! Gravedigger. baby!

This Maraeth doesn’t really know anything about the world of pain she’s about to enter. If Yelena Gorgo thinks she can just dye her hair black, throw in some new contact lenses and turn off the lights more, and that make her a monster, then she’s in a world of trouble here!

JC: I think you’re missing the point, Brody… that’s not Yelena Gorgo?

BG: Pfft! Okay! Then where’s Gorgo at exactly? Still lying in a puddle of vomit at Coreytopia? Of course that’s Gorgo!

JC: The ways she sounds, Brody. The way she moves. That’s anyone other than the Yelena Gorgo we knew.

The bell rings, and these two monsters come nose-to-nose…

Bobby Bourbon a full 4 inches taller than Maraeth, but her stature impressive none the less.

Bobby stares her down. Like he’s murdering her soul with a hatchet. And Maraeth doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t blink. It’s almost like you can hear a gust of wind ripping between them like an old western flick. Not taking his eyes off of her, Bobby wastes no time… slowly, deliberately removing one shoulder strap, and then the other and then— MARAETH THROWS AN ELBOW!

It cracks Bobby right in the jaw.

But only his head moves. His feet remain planted in the center of the mat. He turns his head back slowly, a cold, unfazed look in his eyes. And for just a split second even, Maraeth looks as though she’s realizing that she might not have fully understood just what she’s up against.
But that terrified contemplation evaporates nearly as quickly as it appeared. Her face snarls- she spins and hits a judo kick to Bobby’s quad- then ANOTHER ELBOW

BUT BOBBY CATCHES IT WITH BOTH HANDS!

He shoves Maraeth forward and she falls back on her rear.

The crowd goes crazy, as Bobby slowly, deliberately steps over her. He reaches down, grabbing her by the ears, using his incredible strength to lift her from the mat, but Maraeth is squirming, growling, using her muscle to try and break free from this head-squisher hold he’s got her in. She kicks Bobby right in the stomach, and though you can tell it hurt him, he still wont let go- NOT UNTIL THE SECOND KICK!

Bobby drops his clutch on Maraeth’s skull. She steadies herself on her feet and hits the ropes, running in with the elbow strike this time! But Bobby counters, a well timed back body drop puts Maraeth on the mat. Bobby immediately drops and mounts her, but Maraeth is strong, she rolls Bobby onto his back and proceeds to attack with some strikes. Bobby eats a few, but they don’t seem to do much damage- now he’s rolling Maraeth over. He digs his fingertips into the fat flesh of her face and rakes down- leaving streaks of welts.

His other hand is grabbing a handful of hair and he yanks Maraeth back up to a standing position. He walks her to the corner of the ring- thrashing and whiplashing her head along the way. Once the reach the corner, Maraeth’s face is introduced to the top turnbuckle pad- only she catches herself with her arms on the ropes- she sends an elbow back into Bobby’s stomach area- but before it can connect, Bobby has connected over her back with a big clubbing blow.

Bobby hammers down with that clubbing shot, the sound like wet lumber cracking against meat. Maraeth lurches forward but clings to the ropes, refusing to be folded. Bobby grabs her by the waist and launches her with a German Suplex, her body snapping off the canvas like a crash test dummy.

JC: Good lord, what a throw! Bobby Bourbon nearly put her through the mat!

BG: You don’t out-muscle Bobby Bourbon, you just pray you survive him!

Bobby doesn’t let her breathe. He’s already on her, grabbing Maraeth by the ankle and dragging her across the mat like a carcass, straight out under the bottom rope. The crowd surges as Bobby steps out after her, lifting her up by the hair.

And then….

MARAETH SNATCHES A WATER BOTTLE FROM A FAN AND BREAKS IT ACROSS HIS FACE.

Plastic and water explode everywhere! Bobby staggers, blinded, but not really harmed

JC: that was resourceful!

BG: That’s theft! Somebody get that fan a new Aquafina!

With Bobby reeling, Maraeth drives her shin up into his gut with a sickening oblique kick, doubling him over. She hooks him by the neck, JUDO THROW ON THE FLOOR!

Bobby’s mass crashes against the ringside padding, but the thud echoes anyway. Pure, blunt trauma.

Maraeth doesn’t waste a second. She rolls under the apron and pulls out a steel chair… a kendo stick… and finally a bag. She tosses the stick and chair into the ring but clutches that bag like a prize.

Bobby is stirring, crawling up on all fours. Maraeth slams the bag down in front of him, opens it and… a cascade of LEGOS spill out onto the arena floor!!!!

BG: Oh for god’s sake! This is XTreme Rules, not Kindergarten!

JC: Have you ever stepped barefoot on a Lego, Brody? That’s a death sentence right there.

Maraeth grabs Bobby by the neck, trying to drag him toward the pile, but Bobby’s sheer size anchors him. He fires back with a big gut punch, then another, and suddenly—Bobby hooks Maraeth!

BIG BOY TOSS STRAIGHT INTO THE LEGOS!

The crowd erupts as Maraeth writhes in agony, tiny bricks embedded in her skin. Bobby, breathing heavy, snatches the steel chair from the apron and raises it high, and…

CRACK! across her back.

Another CRACK! The chair bends in his hands.

But Maraeth… laughs, agonizingly so, but a laugh nonetheless.

She rolls over, eyes wide and wild, blood mixing with sweat, and beckons him in.

JC: Look at that! She’s smiling! Maraeth is asking for more punishment!

BG: That ain’t courage, Jack, that’s lunacy! She’s not human!

Bobby snarls, tossing the chair aside, and pulls Maraeth up…

RICHTER SPIKE!!!!

Right on the Lego pile!

The arena damn near explodes.

He covers—

1!

2!!

…MARAETH KICKS OUT!

JC: Nobody kicks out of the Richter Spike on Lego bricks!

BG: Well she just did, and I don’t like what that means for Bobby Bourbon!

Bobby’s eyes widen. He’s muttering to himself now, shaking his head. He rips the kendo stick from the ring, snapping it across his knee to test its bend. He stalks her.

But Maraeth surges back up, staggering forward, and- - -

SNAP DRAGON SUPLEX ON THE FLOOR!

Bobby folds in half, rolling lifelessly against the barricade.

Maraeth, panting like a predator, slides him back into the ring. She follows, slowly, methodically. The crowd roars in anticipation as she signals for it- - -THE DEATH CLUTCH!!!

She straddles Bobby’s back, stomps his spine, and begins to coil that serpent-like arm around his throat…

Maraeth coils in that arm, locking Bobby in the Death Clutch (Camel Clutch variation). The crowd rises in shock as she wrenches back on his neck, her teeth bared in a grin that borders on religious ecstasy. Bobby’s massive arms flail, his fingers clawing at the mat, at her grip, at anything.

JC: The Death Clutch! She’s got him hooked in deep!

BG: No way, no way she submits Bobby Bourbon in front of the world! The man’s a damn ox!

Bobby’s face goes purple!

His arms drag his mountain of a frame inch by inch toward the ropes - - -but it’s XTreme Rules, there’s no rope break- - - Still, he lurches, lifting Maraeth with sheer adrenaline-fueled power and - - -SLAMS HER BACK INTO THE TURNBUCKLES!

The hold breaks, Maraeth crumpling against the pads. Bobby collapses, coughing, clutching his throat, but the crowd roars as both competitors stagger up like horror movie slashers refusing to die.

Maraeth charges—PUMP KICK!

Bobby reels back into the ropes, rebounds—SHORYUKEN!!! The roundhouse uppercut nearly decapitates Maraeth, sending her flipping backward.

JC: That might have broken her jaw!/white]

Bobby drags her up by the hair, sweat flying from both their bodies, and lifts for the BOBBYBOMB!!!

But Maraeth twists in mid-air, rolling through, and- - -

FLOAT OVER NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEXES!

One suplex!

She rolls her legs over!

Two suplexes!!

The crowd rises to its feet!

THREE SUPLEXES! — and a bridged pin!

1!

2!!

BOBBY KICKS OUT!!!

The crowd is thunderous!

Maraeth, eyes wild, slides out of the ring and drags a table from beneath the apron. She sets it up at ringside, then pulls another, and stacks it on top!

The crowd is in hysterics now.

[white]BG: No… no, don’t you dare, Jack!

JC: She’s building a skyscraper of violence!

She climbs back in, hauling Bobby by the beard, setting him up for a suplex. Bobby blocks, hooks the leg, and SUPLEXES HER INSTEAD—ONTO A PILE OF KENDO STICKS AND THE BENT STEEL CHAIR!

Maraeth’s back arches in agony.

Bobby, bleeding from the mouth, drags himself upright and points to the sky. He climbs the ropes - - -the crowd gasps- - -Bobby Bourbon, 290 pounds, perched on the top turnbuckle.

FLYING CIRCUS!!!

But Maraeth rolls! Bobby CRASHES onto the canvas, the ring shaking from impact.

JC: GOOD GOD! The Flying Circus missed! That might’ve destroyed Bobby’s spine!

BG: That’s the gamble! That’s XTreme Rules!

Maraeth stumbles up, eyes darting to the stacked tables outside. She drags Bobby, piece by piece, deadweight over the ropes to the apron. She hooks him—attempting an Ippon throw off the apron!

The crowd is screaming.

Bobby resists. He elbows her once- - - TWICE!!!- - -Maraeth snarls, headbutts him, and finally- - -OSOTO GARI

OFF THE APRON THROUGH THE STACKED TABLES!!!

CRAAAAAAAAASH! Splinters and carnage everywhere.

The arena explodes in disbelief.

JC: She killed him! She killed Bobby Bourbon!

BG: OH MY GOD! Call the police!

Both bodies lie motionless in the wreckage. The referee slides out, checks them, then begins the count. At seven, Maraeth stirs. She claws her way up, pulling Bobby by the hair, dragging him like a ragdoll back into the ring.

She drops down, hooks his arms, and DRILLS HIM WITH THE KICK DEMON! A shin-to-skull crack that echoes through the arena.

She collapses across him…

1!

2!!

3….

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BOBBY GETS THE SHOULDER UP!!!

The crowd erupts, losing its collective mind. Maraeth screams in fury, tearing at her own hair, pounding the mat.

JC: HOW IN THE HELL DID BOBBY BOURBON JUST KICK OUT OF THAT!

BG: YOU CAN’T KILL A TRUE MONSTER, JACKO!

MAraeth staggers up, dragging Bobby into position, signaling once more for the Death Clutch.

She tries to lock the legs into a surfboard version, but Bobby, through sheer survival instinct, rakes her eyes. She stumbles back—

Bobby surges up, adrenaline roaring, and EMC SQUARED!!!

The chokeslam rattles the ring.

He collapses on her for the pin

1!

2!!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Both are barely alive now. The arena is electric.

JC: How much more can they take?! These two are tearing each other, and this arena, apart!

BG: I don’t know if we’re watching wrestling anymore, Jack, or just ritual sacrifice! This is a battle of the monsters, indeed!

Bobby drags himself upright, motions for the BOBBYBOMB again.

He hauls Maraeth up, she fights, hammering fists into his face, but it’s doing little. He adjusts his grip…

BUT MARAETH SHIFTS HER WEIGHT!

She spins, and in one fluid, terrifying motion…

DEATH CLUTCH WITH BODY SCISSORS!!!

She wraps herself around his back like a constrictor, dragging him down.

Bobby thrashes, claws, the crowd in absolute frenzy!

He lurches to his feet with her clamped on, tries to back-crush her against the corner

BUT SHE HOLDS ON.

His knees buckle.

His arms go slack.

The ref checks.

Raises the arm once - - -drops.

Twice- - -drops.

Three - - -

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bobby’s arm stops halfway!

The crowd roars.

He surges one last time- - -stands- - -charges backward - - -AND FALLS WITH ALL HIS MASS THROUGH A TABLE STILL IN THE CORNER, CRUSHING MARAETH UNDER HIM!

Both are out cold.

The ref begins to count again.

1…

2…

3…

4…

Bobby stirs, drapes an arm across her chest.

1!

2!!

JC: WHAT IN THE- - - WHO IN THE - - - IS THAT!???

[Image: avatar_1003.jpg?dateline=1439069672]

JC: THAT’S DARREN DANGEROUS! I THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD!

BG: WHO IN THE HELL IS THIS?!

Darren starts stomping on Bobby’s skull. Bobby and Maraeth are both still unconscious, but the pinfall is broken. Quickly, Darren rolls out of the ring, punching himself in the skull an few times, busting himself open. He pulls from under the ring a…

A TABLE WITH LIVE MOUSTRAPS ATTACHED TO IT????!!!!

BG: Why on EARTH would we have something like that under the ring?

JC: IT’s been here waiting for the day that Darren might return.

Darren slides the table into the ring and sets it up. He grabs Bobby out of the wreckage in the corner and…

STRANGER DANGER THROUGH THE TABLE!!!!

The move was poorly executed, and Bobby more or less sorta fell onto Darren, leaving him taking the majority of mousetraps snapping against hims skin. But nonetheless, the table is destroyed, Bobby and Maraeth are still out- and DArren is flopping around in the ring… and FLOPS RIGHT ON TOP OF BOBBY FOR THE PIN!

1!

2!!

3!!!

NEW XWF XTREME CHAMPION - DARREN DANGEROUS

BG: What an absolute travesty! This freak just robbed us of a great finish here, Jack!

JC: Love it or hate it, that’s 24/7 rules… and the match isn’t over yet!

With Bobby down, no moving… Maraeth crawls across the mat, barely conscious herself. She has just enough strength left to get to Bobby before collapsing again… this time with an arm over his chest.

1!

2!!

KICKOUT!!!

A quarter second too late

3!!!

WINNER - via pinfall- MARAETH

JC: We might’ve been robbed from the finish we all deserved, Brody, but you have to admit that was one helluva war we just witnessed. A major statement… heck, an UPSET victory even for Maraeth here tonight!

BG: One thing is for certain… she’s shown she can survive here with the best the XWF has to offer. But as for Darren Dangerous? Just the second that Bobby realizes what’s happened here tonight, he wont be surviving for long

We cut to a shot in a backstage hallway. The camera slowly creeps through the hall until it stops on a barely open door, looking into a cluttered office. The only light in the room comes from a single desk lamp, casting two long shadows against the wall. One of the shadows reflects a motionless man sitting in a wheelchair, with his hand resting limp upon a bell in front of a desk. The other, much fatter shadow paces around in tight circles.

A familiar voice creaks out from the room, the tone caught between urgency and desperation.

The voice of The Nickleman.

“They thought The Corporation was finished! They thought a few chair shots and a bad night meant we would be done. They thought ‘Big Gold’ slipping through my fingers was the end of our Alliance… but they were all wrong.

They were -DEAD- wrong!”

The shadow in the chair moves subtly, softly, with just enough force to ring the bell.

DING!

“Corey Black had to find out the hard way that The Corporation is still standing, stronger than ever. I showed him firsthand what The Corporation does to “Kings” in the XWF.”

DING!

“And Corey got to meet Matthias Syn, our corporate chaos gremlin. Always violent, always unpredictable….but if he ever goes against us, even once, our whole plan could go up in flames. I don’t trust the Syn City Saint. Not for a second.”

DING!

“Yes… glad we see it the same way. But I can still use him, for now...”

DING! DING!!

”Double yes, exactly.”

”Nnnnnnnnnnnnnn…” The shadow in the chair physically strains to reject that notion. Is Principle’s speech slowly returning?

…Charlie paces closer to Peter, leaning over the desk, voice low and harsh.

“And there’s still more to come, whether you and Nadine like it or not. Fresh blood, new enforcers! Loyal to -me- and -me- alone.

Tag team Titans.

I won’t name names… yet. But they’re brutal, lethal, and precise beyond measure. They’ll be the shadows in our corner.”

Charlie’s shadow spins abruptly.

“And Kieran King…that clown, parading around with that crown like he’s untouchable! Last week, he had the AUDACITY to lay hands on ME! His Acting General Manager! He thinks he’s in charge… he thinks he’s in-fucking-vincible. But that Burger King crown? It’s just a prop. And Kieran? He’s just a puppet. So tonight, I’m going to make him dance on my strings.”

DING!

“He’ll strut around thinking he’s running the show, thinking he’s got the upper hand… but tonight, he’s marching to my tune. Dolly won’t see it coming. She’ll think it’s just another fight, just another main event…but tonight, she’s about to feel the full weight of The Corporate boot on her neck! And she’ll never forget it.”

DING!

“Everyone worships her. Everyone thinks she’s untouchable. But tonight, we’ll tear the illusion of Chairwoman Waters apart. And by the time Relentless rolls around, she won’t even be trying to defend ‘Big Gold’.

She’ll just be trying to survive.”

”Kkkkkkkkkkiiiiiiiiiiii… llllllllllllllllllllllllllll…” Peter delivers a low guttural command…

”Sorry, what’s that?” Nickels taps his ear, before pointing to the bell.

…Peter rings the bell once more.

DING!

“And every pissant worker in this company, every self-important fool who thinks they’re bigger than the company that made em’: they’ll feel our boot on their necks, too.

Then after Relentless, we begin our purge.

When I finally have that Universal Championship back in my hands this roster will kneel…or it will die!”

A glint of light catches the camera lens, and Charlie realizes that his shadowy schemes are being watched. Charlie stops his monologue as his shadow lunges towards the door.

“What the helly?!”

Charlie slams the door to Peter’s office shut with a deafening thud!

JC: Folks, it’s been one HELL of a show! And we’ve arrived at our main event! The Universal champion in her first match since winning the belt against The Ultimate Underdog!

BG: Don’t let that name fool ya, Jackie! Dickie’s the ultimate underdog because of just how many champions he’s surprised! This one may not have the belt on the line, but it’s fit to be an all-out WAR tonight!

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!

The crowd EXPLODES as Ode to Joy streams over the PA!

JC: And here she is! The Revolutionary herself! Dolly Waters! After twelve YEARS! After signing an XWF contract as a pre-teen and fighting tooth-and-nail… through injuries… After so many close-calls where she came within inches of the big one… Dolly Waters IS the Universal champion!

BG: It’s the feel-good story of the wrestling world, Jackie! All the hippies and freakniks are celebrating the ultimate home-grown XWFer winning the Big Gold belt… But, if you know Dolly… *some* people are asking… When’s the other shoe gonna drop?

JC: Oh c’mon, Brody. Let her and the XWF Universe enjoy it! Dolly Waters is Universal champion! It’s amazing!

BG: Hey, I’m treating her like a Uni champ, that means she has to deal with hard questions…

The stadium spotlights rush up toward the ceiling and Waters appears under the XTron,

The Big Gold belt hangs around her waist.

She raises a fist toward the sky and the already-defeaning crowd goes even louder!

BG: For example… has Dolly ever beaten a big name opponent?

JC: She just beat the corporate champ, Charlie Nickles!

BG: I’m talkin’ guys like SEB! Like Thaddeus Duke! Like ALIAS!

JC: She pinned Dock at WarGames! That’s among the brightest feathers one can have in their cap!

BG: My point is… One-on-one, against top guys? Dolly comes up short. And Dickie Watson? Is a TOP GUY.

JC: …Well, despite my broadcasting partner’s nay-saying, Dolly proved herself a TOP GUY at Leap of Faith. But, as Dickie pointed out, the first match as the summit can be the hardest! Will Dolly’s reign start off with a bang? Or will Dickie clip its ankle before it even has a chance to run!

Dolly marches to the beat of Ode To Joy, the crowd roaring, her gaze set squarely on the squared circle. She climbs through the ropes and takes the center of the ring. Once again, she raises a single fist into the air, as her music fades, replaces by the still-palpable electricity of the crowd.

…

The two competitors face-off on opposite sides of the ring… Dolly hands off her Universal title to the official, who in turn hands it off to the timekeeper.

JC: The vibes are absolutely electric here, Brody! We’ve got two of the finest competitors that have ever competed between the blue and black ropes of the XWF!

BG: The title may not be on the line but the big-fight energy is PERMEATING and this crowd is RED HOT! We haven’t even started the match and dueling chants have broken out!

FUCK ‘EM UP DOLLY!

WAAAAATSON

FUCK ‘EM UP DOLLY!

WAAAAATSON

DING DING!

Non-Title
Dolly Waters
- vs -
Dickie Watson

Dolly steps forward first, shoulders loose but her eyes locked sharp on Dickie. She slides into a low stance and offering a collar-and-elbow tie-up.

JC: Starting this one off with a little catch-as-catch-can1

Dickie’s lips twitch into the faintest smirk, like he’s amused that Dolly’s trying to meet him on the mat instead of just burning rubber out the gate. He accepts the lock-up, grinding in close with deliberate pressure, feeling her strength.

JC: Right into the tie-up, both wrestlers showing respect for the other’s game.
BG: Pump the brakes on that ‘respect’ stuff, Jacko. Dickie’s already testin’ her shoulders, seein’ if she’s got more than a spark plug under the hood. Like a bridge tester, Watson’s checking how much it’ll take to break her.

Dolly feels the weight against her and tilts her chin, jaw tightening as the two jockey for control.

In a flash, Dolly dips suddenly, rolling into a side headlock, grinding her forearm against Dickie’s temple with a little extra snap.

Dickie winces, but not out of pain — out of irritation. His eyes close briefly, then snap open, reading her grip. He plants a forearm against her spine, shoving, turning his hips, sliding her into a hammerlock behind his back. His lips part just slightly, like he’s whispering something only his opponent can hear…

JC: Watson turns it around in a heartbeat! That’s the veteran in him, Dolly might’ve rushed in too quick.

Brody: Dolly’s a spark plug for sure. Burns fast, burns bright, but ya gotta know where to clamp the jumper cables. And Dickie knows exactly how to shut down that spark.

Dolly’s brow furrows, lips parting in a frustrated grunt. She rocks her body sideways, searching for an angle, and finally dips low, sweeping her free leg back between his and rolling forward. The motion uncoils into a quick reversal — she’s got his arm in a hammerlock now, yanking it high. Her grin flashes for a half-second, teeth showing — gotcha.

Dickie doesn’t flinch. His jaw tightens, and then a sharp exhale escapes his nose, nostrils flaring. He drops his weight suddenly, rolling his shoulder through the torque, spinning and wrenching out into a standing wristlock. His face stays flat, calm — but his eyes cut straight into Dolly’s….

JC: “Neither competitor willing to concede an inch on this physical battlefield! We watched a little chess wrestling earlier, but THIS is what you call a chess match in motion.

BG: Chess? Nah. Dolly’s playin’ speed checkers, Dickie’s over there readin’ the rulebook and takin’ notes.

JC: Despite my co-commentator’s feelings to the contrary, the exchanges thus far have been dead-even. Though, Watson does have a wristlock and is currently in control….

Dolly’s grin fades into concentration, her jawline tightening as she plants her feet. She suddenly rolls forward, flipping off the mat to relieve the pressure, and pops back up to her feet with his wrist still caught in hers. For a heartbeat, both of them freeze — his grip on her, her grip on him, eyes locked.

And then they release at the same time. Both take a step back.

Dolly shakes out her wrist, biting her lip in thought. Dickie rolls his shoulder, his breathing slow and even, gaze steady and unblinking.

A stalemate. Both recalibrating, both reconsidering.

JC: What a stand-off! Neither one got the edge in that exchange.

BG: Not yet. But that’s just the feelin’-out process, Jacuinde. Sooner or later, Dolly’s gonna take off like a jackrabbit, and Dickie’s gonna clip her legs and drag her into the dirt.

The crowd buzzes, already sensing the tension — they know this calm won’t last.

And sure enough, in a sudden flash of velocity, Dolly bursts forward, her body spring-loaded, chaining together an…

ARM DRAG!

…No! Dickie hits the canvas but rolls through his knees, his brow lowering into concentration. No hesitation — he snaps up, launching into an…

Arm drag of his own, yanking Dolly across the ring. Dolly gets launched onto her back!

JC: Tit for tat! Dolly with the arm drag, Dickie fires one right back!
BG: That’s Dickie for ya — he ain’t impressed. You throw him in the water, he’s swimmin’ just fine.

Dolly kips up, her teeth flashing with an eager grin. Dickie seeks a…

Spinning Backfist…

But Dolly ducks! Dickie spins around…

As Dolly leaps atop his shoulders!

HURRICANRANA!

…NO! Dickie, jaw clenched, rolls right through the landing, popping back up with a surge of energy and catching Dolly with a second hurricanrana of his own.

…No! Dolly rolles through as well! The two turn their heads to look at each other back-to-back as the crowd goes electric!

JC: Counter for counter! These two are moving at lightning pace!

BG: Nah! That ain’t lightning, Jacuinde, that’s two tornados colliding! Don’t get caught in the middle!

JC: …Y’know, Brody, we’re both using figurative language, neither of us is “right”... you really don’t have to correct and replace my description every time. We can both just have different metaphors for the action in the ring.

Suddenly, both competitors dash for the ropes! Dolly looks for a…

LARIAT!

But Dickie ducks! Dickie hits the ropes, seeking a…

BASEMENT DROPKICK!

…But Dolly leapfrogs over, collapsing into a sudden roll that stacks Dickie’s legs beneath him. She folds him up, weight pressing down hard on his shoulders — pin attempt!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Dickie explodes out, his face snapping into wide-eyed surprise, chest heaving. He shakes his head in disbelief — Dolly nearly stole it.

JC: Almost a three! Dolly Waters nearly had him right there! I think Dolly almost surprised Dickie, he still thought they were setting up the pieces, he almost got checkmated early!

BG: She’s fast as a whip, no doubt, but don’t get it twisted! Dickie’s survived far worse scrapes than that.

The near-fall lights something in Dolly’s expression — her grin sharpens into focus, her body coiling like a spring as Dickie scrambles up. He lunges forward, hand outstretched to grab her—

But Dolly darts away, bounding across the ring in a single leap. She plants both feet on the ropes, propelling herself back with a clean, practiced rhythm. In mid-air, her eyes sparkle, the grin returning — showtime.

ODE TO JOY! A crushing springboard European Uppercut smashes into Dickie’s jaw, sending him sprawling flat.

JC: ODE TO JOY! And she got ALL of that one!

Dolly crashes down beside him, hooking the leg, face shining with the thrill of the connection.

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Dickie jerks his shoulder up, gasping, his eyes wide and furious — she almost had him. He rolls to his side, clutching his jaw, teeth clenched in both pain and determination.

JC: Wow! This one was looking DEAD EVEN, but the last two exchanges have gone all Dolly! That Ode To Joy nearly put Dickie Watson down!

BG: “Nearly ain’t enough, Jackie! Dolly’s startin’ to run the show, but Dickie ain’t stickin’ around this long just to get upstaged!

The crowd roars, sensing the tilt. Dolly bounces to her feet, pumping her fists, roaring with a champion’s spirit! The crowd roars along with her…

Dickie slowly rises to his feet, spitting outside the ring, shaking off that last European uppercut blast from the Universal champion…

Dolly lunges in, looking for another burst of speed, looking to snatch her opponent in a grapple…

But Dickie’s eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a thin, flat line.

As Dolly’s arms seek to latch around Dickie… He slips low, ducking under her charge, and snatches her ankle. With a sudden twist, he wrenches her to the mat face-first.

JC: Oof! That was nasty! Dickie just yanked her straight out of the air!

BG: See that? That’s the difference, Jacuinde. No finesse. Just grit. Dolly’s tryin’ to fly, Dickie’s draggin’ her wings in the mud!

Dolly grimaces, palms smacking the canvas as she scrambles back to her knees. She shakes out her knee, biting her lip in frustration.

JC: …I don’t *think* Dickie was going for the knee, but Dolly favoring it. Her career’s been plagued by injuries to that damn knee…

BG: Hey, she’s the Uni champ, Jacko. No one’s gonna take it easy on her, everyone wants that belt.

Waters shakes it out…

She tries to bolt for the ropes — but Dickie steps in sharply, his arm whipping across her chest with a stinging running chop.

Dolly gasps, arching back, clutching her chest.

JC: …Ouuuuuuuch. What a strike by Watson!

BG: And look at his face, Jacko! His face doesn’t change, just that same focused scowl, like he’s cutting Dolly’s rhythm one off-tempo beat at a time. THIS is a champion!

JC: They’re both champions, Brody!

BG: Really? One looks more champ-like than the other right now…

Dolly’s expression flashes defiance — she scrambles off the mat, surging forward!

Dickie tries to clip her with another shoulder block!

…But Dolly dips under!

JC: Dolly, finding that rhythm again… Looking to pick the pace back up!

Dickie spins around as Dolly rebounds off the ropes!

SHOTGUN DROPKICK!

…No! Dickie reads it. His brow furrows, eyes darting to her legs, and he sidesteps!

Dolly baseball slides across the ring, missing! Dickie wastes no time — he stomps down on her calf, pinning her leg to the mat.

JC: Watson going after the legs now, he’s trying to ground her completely!
BG: Course he is! Dolly’s got speed, but ya can’t drive a car if the tires are slashed. Ruthless!

Dolly grits her teeth, yelping as Dickie twists her ankle and drops a sharp elbow onto her thigh. Her fingers dig into the mat… Dolly claws at his arm, trying to shove him off.

But Dickie leans in harder, his jaw clenching, forearm grinding against her shin while his free hand peppers her ribs with short, venomous punches. No wasted motion. No room to breathe.

JC: Dickie Watson is *dismantling* Dolly Waters right now — every strike, every twist is slowing her down!

BG: That’s the game, Jackie baby. Dolly wants a sprint, Dickie wants a fistfight in the ditch. Guess which one lasts longer?

Dolly thrashes, as Dickie continues peppering her with punches…

Finally, Dolly rolls sideways and kicking free, her eyes wide, her breath ragged.

Dickie rises up… Dolly takes a little longer, pushing herself to her feet, shaking out her leg, muttering something under her breath…

BG: The difference between these competitors is apparent! Dickie is in the driver’s seat and Dolly is clinging on for dear life!

Trying to surprise her opponent, who may think those punches hobbled her… Dolly bursts forward!

But Dickie cuts her off mid-step, ducking low and ramming his shoulder straight into her gut with a lowshoulder block!

His face is calm but merciless… He scoops her off her feet!

SPINEBUSTER! WITH AUTHORITY!

JC: Yowza! That one hurt just looking at?

BG: Really? I saw that and I feel great!

Dolly curls up, her eyes squeezed shut, arms wrapping her ribs as she coughs for air.

Dickie feels how hard that one hit, deep in Dolly’s core. He hooks the leg…

JC: If this is it… this would be a dominant victory over the active Universal champ!

ONE!

TWO!

TH-NO! Dolly shoves a shoulder off the mat… still cradling those ribs…

JC: No, Dolly survives!

BG: But for how long, Jackie! Dickie’s got her mapped out! She’s got a shallow bag of tricks and Dickie’s ripped out her engine and is stripping her for parts!

Dickie rolls to his knees, aware Dolly might kick out of that one… before dragging Dolly back up by her wrist, yanking her into a corner, and drills her midsection with a series of sharp uppercuts. Each one is punctuated by his narrowed gaze, watching her buckle…

JC: Watson promised to drag this into chaos, and that’s exactly what he’s doing! Dolly can’t find her footing here!

BG: Cause Dolly ain’t in her world anymore — she’s in his. Dickie don’t care if it’s ugly. In fact, ugly’s the point.

The crowd roars, split — some rallying for Dolly to break free, others impressed at Dickie’s ruthless efficiency.

Dolly’s back against the turnbuckles, chest rising and falling in ragged bursts, but her eyes flick upward at the sound washing over the arena. The crowd’s on its feet now, stomping and clapping, chanting her name in unison…

FUCK ‘EM UP DOLLY! FUCK ‘EM UP! *clap clap*

Dickie, still pressing close, lips pressed in a grim line, draws his forearm back and snaps it across her jaw. But Dolly’s head jerks with the blow, then snaps back into place — she lets out a sharp shout, chest heaving as she feeds off the audience.

DOLLY DOLLY DOLLY

She swings back, her forearm rattling against Dickie’s cheek.

[white]JC: Listen to this crowd! Dolly’s firing back, feeding off their energy!
BG: She’s feelin’ froggy, but Watson’s fists don’t just sting — they smother.

Dickie’s brow furrows, jaw tightening as he whips another forearm across her face. But Dolly doesn’t wilt — she comes back stronger, quicker, another strike.

Back and forth they go, the rhythm of the exchange turning into a firefight, Dolly roaring louder with each return blow.

JC: Uh oh! Dolly, through sheer fighting spirit, has willed herself back into this one! And I think Dickie’s thrown!

Dickie grits his teeth, eyes narrowing as Dolly surges. He launches a running chop!

But Dolly side-steps it… And leaps in the air!

DROPKICK!

Dolly’s cracks against his chest and sends Watson crashing to the mat, rolling across his shoulders.

The crowd erupts. Dolly pops back to her feet, hair flying wild, her grin flashing as she slaps the canvas to pump herself up.

[white]JC: In short order, Dolly has taken full control back riding this crowd’s energy!

BG: …

Dickie, shaking off cobwebs, shoves himself off the mat up to his knees…

Dolly sees her opening. She races to the ropes, bouncing back with blistering speed — the crowd roars louder as she leaps forward, tucking her knee.

RUNNIIIIIIIIIIING WATERS!

…

DUCKED!

Dickie ducks at the last second, his face calm but fierce! Dolly slips up and over the strike!

JC: Dickie dodges Dolly’s deadly dive!

From behind Dolly, Dickie’s arms shoot around her waist, and in one savage snap, he whips her overhead…

MILLENNIAL FALLOUT! (bridging german suplex)

The ring shakes. Dolly folds up like a ragdoll, stacked high on her shoulders.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NOOOOOOOOOO!

Dolly kicks out, tumbling sideways, her body sprawling across the canvas, chest heaving violently.

JC: Two! Only two! Dolly Waters survives, but she might not even know where she is after that!

BG: ...See! That’s how good Dickie Watson is! He let Dolly have one last gasp, just to break her spirit and cut her off at the pass one more time! DOMINANT!

JC: …I disagree with your perspective on Dolly, Brody, but I agree, Dickie’s ability to summon a counter out of thin air serves him very, VERY well in the ring!

Dickie rolls to his side, arms draped over his knees, his expression darkening. He stares down at Dolly, his jaw working as though grinding the thought in silence. His chest rises heavy, sweat dripping off his chin.

Dolly’s body is sprawled on the mat, chest pumping like a piston, sweat dripping down her brow.

FUCK ‘EM UP DOLLY! FUCK ‘EM UP! *clap clap* The crowd tries to summon Dolly back into this one…

Dickie rises to his feet with a deliberate calm, no wasted movements, his lips pressed tight.

He stomps down hard on Dolly’s chest. Once. Twice. Again. Each blow flattens her body back into the canvas, her gasps sharper, her arms curling instinctively to shield herself.

JC: OOooof, come on, those stomps are vicious

BG: They’re genius is what they are, Jackie boy! Dolly’s tryin’ to hide behind the crowd, get these people behind her — Dickie’s makin’ sure she don’t even have the air in her lungs to listen!

Dickie drops suddenly, an elbow smashing down across her ribs. He pops back up — and drops another. Then another. Each elbow is punctuated by his controlled breathing, sharp exhales, measured violence meant to drain rather than dazzle.

Dolly writhes, her face contorted, teeth bared as she tries to roll to the ropes for a breather…

But Dickie slithers down, his arms looping around her neck, cinching her tight in a guillotine choke. His legs coil around her waist, and his expression turns grim, jaw tightening!

JC: Dickie, perhaps seeking a choke-out victory here! He senses Dolly is having a tougher and tougher time escaping and he’s clamping down, calling for a win right now!

Dolly’s eyelids flutter, her arm trembling as it drifts toward the mat.

The Dolly chants… briefly get quieter…

The referee leans in close… Assessing if she’s out…

He raises her arm…

But just before her hand drops, Dolly jerks her head, slipping out the side of Dickie’s grip, twisting free, gasping like she’s clawing oxygen out of the air itself!

The crowd explodes, their chants reaching a fever pitch.

JC: She slipped out! Dolly Waters is still alive!

BG: Yeah, yeah, she’s alive — but she’s about to regret it.

Dickie’s lips pull back in a frustrated grimace. He hooks Dolly’s head, twisting his body — looking for a jumping neckbreaker to snap her momentum once and for all.

But Dolly slips free mid-motion, pushing off with desperate precision. Dickie lands hard on his back, the canvas rattling beneath him. His eyes go wide, teeth grit in a silent curse as he scrambles, spinning around to his knees.

And there she is. Dolly already hits the ropes, bounding forward with renewed fire. Her face is lit with raw determination, jaw clenched, eyes locked on her target.

She launches forward…

RUNNING WATERS!

…

CONNECTS!

THE CROWD EXPLODES!

The shining wizard crashes into Dickie’s temple, the impact echoing across the arena like a gunshot. Dickie crumples to the mat, sprawled flat!

JC: Oh my God! She hit it! RUNNING WATERS!

Dolly tumbles down beside him, breath ragged, arms trembling as she throws herself across Watson’s chest, hooking the leg tight.

The official drops to count!

ONE!
TWO!
THR—

Dickie kicks out, jerking his shoulder up just before the three. The crowd gasps in disbelief, then roars even louder.

JC: …WOW! I thought that was it! Dolly hit the Running Waters FLUSH… and Dickie still survived!

BG: …See, You don’t just pin Dickie Watson, Jacuinde. You gotta break him. And Dolly ain’t done that yet. Not even CLOSE!

Dolly rolls onto her back, chest heaving, eyes wide with exhaustion and frustration. Dickie lies on his side, his breathing heavy, his jaw clenched…

JC: Both these competitors have been through HELL! Both in their careers and in this match… But only one can secure the victory from here!

Both competitors slowly stagger back to a vertical base…

Dickie pounces first, his arms clamping around her waist, teeth grit as he yanks her up — standing switch taking her from behind! Waist lock!

Dickie goes for another…

MILLENNIAL FALLOUT!

…No! Dolly wriggles, sliding down through his arms, then drops straight through his legs to the mat behind him.

The crowd roars as her face flashes with sudden hope — she wraps her arms around his waist, straining, teeth bared. She’s trying to throw Dickie with a German of her own!

JC: Dolly’s trying to flip the script on Watson!

Dickie’s jaw clamps, his hands shooting up to clutch Dolly’s head. With a sharp jerk, he drops, snapping her jaw across his shoulder — Jawbreaker!

Dolly reels back, her eyes glassy, stumbling into the ropes. The cables throw her forward, head still lolling, and she falls straight into Dickie’s waiting hands. His expression is cold, focused, no hesitation. He hauls her up, twisting her body through the air—

DICKIE’S REVENGE!

…CONNECTS!

A devastating modified lifting reverse STO spikes Dolly down face-first into the canvas. The crowd gasps, the sound exploding like a thunderclap.

BG: YES! YES! BALLGAME! CALL IT NOW, JACKIE!

JC: What a move by Dickie Watson! Dickie’s Revenge straight across the jaw!

…Dolly lands flat on her back…

Dickie scrambles over her, pressing down hard, hooking the leg deep. His face shows no joy, just raw urgency.

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Dolly kicks out, jerking her shoulder just before the hand slaps three. The roof blows off the arena, the noise deafening.

JC: AHHHHHHHHH! She kicked out! Dolly Waters just kicked out of Dickie’s Revenge!

BG: …No, that was three. That was for sure three!

JC: It was as close to three as you can get, Brody! But it was two!

Dickie rolls to his knees, hands pressed to the canvas, his chest heaving. His brow furrows deeply…

Dolly lies sprawled beneath him, eyes closed, her chest rising and falling in sharp bursts, but her fingers twitch faintly against the mat.

BG: …Just a matter of time, Jackie. It’s just a matter of time until Dickie puts Dolly down for good.

JC: Dickie is a dominant competitor for sure, Brody, but Dolly is digging deep. She is REFUSING to stay down for the count!

Dickie drags himself up, eyes locked on Dolly like a predator that’s almost cornered its prey. He lunges, scooping her into position…

A SECOND DICKIE’S REVENGE!

…

NO! Dolly’s thrashes, twisting free mid-lift, slipping out of his grip and dropping back to her feet to Watson’s side!

She boots Dickie in the stomach! She cinches him tight between her thighs, hands clasped, looking for a piledriver!

[white]JC: MUDDY WATERS’ FINISHER! THE PIKE COUNTY PLUNGE!

The crowd screams, sensing the end…

PIKE COUNTY PL-

…NO! Dickie grits his teeth, planting his feet back on the mat, hurling Dolly up and over with a desperate…

BACK BODY DROP!

NO! Dolly somehow lands on her feet…

BUT! The second her boots hit canvas her face contorts in agony, her hand clutching at her knee—the old wound barking at the worst possible moment.

JC: Her knee—her knee gave out again!
BG: That’s the ghost that never leaves ya, Jacuinde! That’s the tax comin’ due!

…Dolly tries to shoot back up… But she falls to one knee.

Dickie seizes the moment, a fire in his eyes, rushing forward for…

RISE TO GLORY! (Curb Stomp)

…

NO!

Dolly rolls aside at the last heartbeat! Dickie stomps the canvas with a snarl. Dolly barrels into him, snatching his legs, cradling him into a roll-up!

JC: Dolly trying to steal this one again!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-NO!

Dickie explodes out, wide-eyed, gasping, survival screaming through his body.

He springs to his knees just as Dolly snaps up with a sudden…

ROUNDHOUSE! Dolly’s shin whistling through the air like a blade…

…MISS!

Dickie ducks under, whipping behind her. His arms snap around hers, wrenching them behind her back—he dives for a backslide pin!

BG: Dickie turning Dolly’s thieving attempts back on her!

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NO!

Dolly kicks, twisting her hips, reversing into a sitout pin of her own!

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-STILL NO!

Dickie kicks free, both of them scrambling, eyes wild, sweat flying.

They crash forward again, Dickie snatching Dolly with both hands, dragging her into position for…

DICKIE’S REVENGE!

But Dolly snarls, wrenching her body sideways—she traps his arm tight and spikes it down with an…

ARM DDT!

Connects!

Dickie howls, clutching his limb, staggering to his feet in shock.

The crowd surges to its feet, the noise deafening.

Dickie spins around—

RUNNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING WATERS!

Dolly’s knee smashing flush into Watson’s skull. Dickie crumples, timbering flat onto the canvas.

JC: SHE HIT IT! SHE HIT IT AGAIN! RUNNING WATERS!

Dolly collapses across him, hooking the leg, her face twisted with pain and exhaustion.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

WINNER: DOLLY WATERS

The bell rings. The arena explodes in cathartic thunder.

JC: She did it again! Dolly Waters survives the chaos and takes down Dickie Watson!

BG: …

Exhausted, Dolly Waters and Dickie Watson both start rising to their feet. Respectively, they each fall back to the ropes and give one another a respectful nod for a hell of a contest.

The two shake hands, before Dolly beckons for a microphone.

Dolly Waters: This… this is what the XWF *can be*...

We *can be* be that shining light on the hill, the example and aspiration for the rest of this industry… not just because we have the best talent, but because we treat our talent the best…

???: Hold up, hold up, hold up. Cut the microphone. Turn her off right now.

To a series of boos, The King of the XWF, King Kieran himself, comes out with very little fanfare.

BG: He's here! The King is here!

JC: Ladies and gentlemen, you’ll have to forgive my colleague Brody. Sometimes he has these mental lapses that cause him to act like a lunatic.

BG: THHHHEEEE KIIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGG!!!

He continues to talk on his way to the ring.

King Kieran: Dolly, Dolly… what are you doing? You're going to go around wrestling everybody and hoping that afterwards they're going to be good enough sports to co-sign on your little union? Remember, CHAMP, you've only got 90 days to get to 60%. By my calculation, that's 10 shows, so 10 signatures. Let's assume you even work triple duty at Relentless—you'll be gift-wrapping me the Universal Championship and for what? 2 more signees? You're still going to be short.

Kieran reaches the ring and climbs up to the apron.

King Kieran: Look, I get it. You're trying to do this for everyone else. But I don't know if you've really thought this through.

He steps through the ropes.

King Kieran: My crown was NOT handed to me. I EARNED it. Need I remind you that you were even in that 2024 tournament when I first ascended, and didn't make it past the first round. But you HAVE been to the finals before, all the way back in 2019. So you know how tough it is to pull off what I did. You've lived and breathed it, and you couldn't do what I did. And you want me to, what… hand over the power that I bled for? You want to render the attacks that Scoops McGee, Sarah Wolf, Matthias Syn, and the Black Rainbow all laid on me completely meaningless just so that fucking losers like Roger and Tommy Gunn and and that Pennyfarthing weirdo can live the good life?

Dolly Waters: There's enough to go around for everyone, and still keep your crown.

King Kieran: I strongly disagree. In fact, I think there's too much going around already. And I think that a certain ungrateful and unworthy champion has forgotten who holds the real power here. I know that YOU know that your little mission here, is because YOUR KING gave that the okay. You should say ‘thank you’, Dolly.

Holding her head up high, Dolly does no such thing.

Kieran scoffs.

King Kieran: That's okay. While everything you are doing is ALLEGEDLY for the rest of the locker, my little clause wasn't for you. It was for me. See… I couldn't have the Universal Champion be off contract and not show up at Relentless, could I? Who would I take the title from then?

His voice drops low.

King Kieran: You're playing my game, Dolly. And speaking of playing my game, allow me to make sure the message is very clear for everyone else in the roster.

The change in expression on The King's face is subtle—a slight shift of his eye towards his peripherals.

But Dolly spots it.

And just as King winds up a superkick aimed straight at Dickie Watson's head, Dolly dives in front and gets wiped out mid-air!

JC: DOLLY WATERS JUST SAVED DICKIE WATSON!

BG: What an idiot!

While Dolly takes the hit, the impact is enough to knock Dickie from the ring.

Before he can get up and fight back, officials swarm and pull him away. They try to get into the ring to Dolly as well, but King swats at and threatens them.

He circles Dolly.

King Kieran: Not what I was expecting, but I’ll take it. Maybe we can try this again… say ‘thank you’, Dolly.

He crouches down and shoves the microphone in her face.

Suddenly…

A dangerous bass riff blasts through the arena as a shot of pyro goes off near the stage. The crowd roars as Charlie Nickles appears at the top of the stage, flanked on either side by Dwyane “The Grok” Johnson and Matthias Syn, “The Syn City Saint”! All three men are dressed to the nines, wearing extremely expensive suede suits and leather shoes. The Nickleman holds a steel chair in the palm of his hands.

JC: Uh oh, here comes Charlie Nickles and his corporate goons!

BG: They’re not gooners, they’re saviors! They’re coming out here to save the XWF!

JC: You think they’re coming out to save Dolly from Kieran’s vicious attack?!

BG: Well, I didn’t say that!

As “Bullet With A Name” blasts through the speakers, Charlie and his thugs stand at the top of the ramp. The Nickleman wears a sinister smile as Syn and Grok crank their necks and crack their knuckles, clearly getting ready for a scrap. Kieran King rises to his feet in the ring as he stares up the ramp at The Corporation.

Charlie Nickles rolls up his sleeves as he holds onto the chair and barks for Syn and Grok to charge the ring. Syn and Grok sprint down the ramp, sliding into the ring and rising to their feet, both man and machine matching Kieran King’s steely gaze.

BG: And The Corporation is hitting the ring!

JC: All but that dastardly Nickleman! He’s just standing outside the ring, giving orders!

The Nickleman waits outside the ring with his chair, smirking as The Grok and The Syn City Saint circle Kieran King, presumably looking for an opening.

JC: Kieran came out here to even a score with Dolly Waters, but now, this is anything but even!

Kieran keeps his eyes on Syn and Grok as the two circle him around the ring, keeping an equal space between Kieran and themselves.

Then, Charlie Nickles slides into the ring beneath the bottom rope, chair in hand!

BG: Charlie is sliding into the ring, and Kieran doesn’t even see it!

JC: Kieran’s distracted by “The Help”! Now, Charlie has him in his sights!

With Kieran distracted by Syn and Grok, Charlie grips his steel chair. Then, Charlie slams his chair aggressively against the mat, catching Kieran’s attention! Surrounded on all sides by The Corporation, Kieran turns around and dares Charlie to ‘bring it on’!

JC: Outnumbered or not, Kieran King is ready for action here tonight!

BG: Kieran’s bighead might be getting the better of him here! Even if he’s the King, he’s got the Saint, the Robot, and the Acting GM in that ring with him right now!

JC: And Dolly Waters is still down, thank God! Hopefully these thugs all take each other out!

Charlie slams his chair against the mat one more time as Kieran braces for conflict. Then, Charlie charges forward with the chair!

In fact, Charlie charges right PAST Kieran with the chair-

AND SMACKS DOLLY RIGHT ACROSS THE FACE WITH IT!

Then, “Grok” and Syn charge past Kieran, and begin delivering massive kicks to the downed champion!

JC: Wait, what the hell is going on?!?! They’re not even looking at Kieran King! They went straight for Dolly Waters!

Kieran steps back in mild confusion, but his bewilderment quickly turns to bemusement as blood begins running down Dolly’s face after Charlie hits her with the chair one more time.

JC: Where is the rest of The Revolution?! Where is the union?! Dolly needs help out there!

After delivering a brutal gang beatdown to Dolly, Charlie instructs his boys to back off. Then, as Dolly lay bloodied on the mat, Charlie turns his eyes towards Kieran.

Then, Charlie softly tosses the chair over to Kieran- and the King catches it!

BG: It looks like Charlie’s about to get some help in that ring!

JC: NO! God, no! Don’t do it, Kieran!

THAT’S WHEN ANOTHER BURST OF PYRO HITS THE MAIN STAGE!

BG: Wait a minute, Jacko’?! Who’s coming out now?!

JC: Oh my God…is that……SCHISM?!?! And Mark Flynn!

BG: Dolly’s Great Revolutionary hope! They’re both heading to the ring to save his champion, but will it be enough?!

SCHISM shoots down the stage like a bullet from a gun, charging right into the fray to protect Dolly Waters! Flynn charges down the ramp beside him!

The original revolutionaries slide under the rope! Grok raises at elbow at Schizz… as Schism nearly takes Grok’s head off with a clothesline!

Charlie raises his chair to decapitate Flynn… But Flynn dives on top of him with a Lou Thesz Press! Delivering punch after punch to his skull!

BG: That’s called felonious destruction of property! He’s going to have to pay for destroying Elon’s toy like that!

JC: That’s called JUSTICE, Brody!

Schism turns towards Matthias Syn next-

BUT KIERAN KING BLASTS SCHISM IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!

SCHISM COLLAPSES LIKE A SACK OF ROCKS!

MATTHIAS SYN AND THE GROK IMMEDIATELY BEGINS DELIVERING BIG BOOTS TO HIM, KEEPING HIM DOWN!

Flynn attacks Charlie like a rabid dog with mounted punches…

Charlie manages to shove off Flynn…

STRAIGHT INTO KIERAN’S CHAIR!

Flynn collapses onto the mat…

BG: So what do you call that, Jacko’?!

JC: I call it bullshit!

The crowd roars with unanimous boos as Dolly Waters, Flynn and Schism lay completely flat in the center of the mat. Charlie Nickles and Kieran King stare each down from just a few feet away as Matthias Syn and The Grok deliver more boots to the downed revolutionaries.

As the arena roars with thunderous hate, The Corporation and Kieran King stand tall in the ring, united for one night only.

That’s when the camera cuts to a shot just beyond the stage, in the gorilla position…

Where we see Dickie Watson inking his name on a union contract!

BG: Noooo, Dickie, don’t do it! Don’t throw your life away for Dolly’s union!

JC: ‘Throw his life away’?! Do you hear yourself, Brody?! Dolly Waters just saved Dickie’s skin back there: and now, he’s joining the union! Charlie and Kieran might have won the battle tonight, but it looks like more Union Soldiers will be joining the war!

BG: But that’s all the time we have tonight, Jacko! This battle may be over….but this company-wide civil war has only just begun!

THANK YOU TO…

OUR MATCH WRITERS
Peter Principle
“The Bashmaster” Barry Masterson
Bobby Bourbon
Charlie Nickles

OUR SEGMENT WRITERS
Thaddeus Duke
Charlie Nickles
Dolly Waters
Kieran King

AND EVERYONE WHO RP’D!

]]>

August - 18 - 2025

LIVE FROM THE PAYCOM CENTER

OKLAHOMA CITY, OKLAHOMA

Solomon Kline & Aidan Collins
- vs -
Razor Blade & Latoya Hixx
1 Collab/4k
Winners Challenge Tag Champions @ Relentless

Isaiah King
- vs -
Kieran King

Non-Title
Dolly Waters
- vs -
Dickie Watson

The lights fade out suddenly. As her theme begins. the lights flicker on slowly and steadily, until they maintain a muted version of themselves, which Sarah stands in the middle of the entrance way. The lights follow Sarah as she slowly makes her way to the ring.

JC: I can’t speculate whether Lucy Wylde, the most recent XWF Television champion, regrets asking Sarah Wolf to GIVE A FUCK going into their match… But we saw a side of Sarah Wolf I think we’d never seen before.

BG: She goddamned dislocated her to escape a submission move, Jack! She was, pardon the pun… RELENTLESS in seeking to defeat Lucy Wylde! And she did so!

JC: And speaking of Relentless, it’s quite an accomplishment holding a title going into the biggest show of the year! But before Lucy won it, the TV title went through a hot potato phase of champions trading the belt for multiple shows… Will XXXVI be the latest to take the hot potato? Or is the belt at home on Sarah Wolf’s waist?

On either side of her are no hands outreached, no fans trying to gain her attention. Just angry faces and concerned looks. Sarah steps into the ringside area, and moves to the ring area, rolling in, and rolling to her feet. She positions herself in the corner of her choosing, and waits.

DING DING!

15:00
14:59
14:58

13:17
13:16
13:15

12:22
12:21
12:20

12:42
12:41
12:40

11:32
11:31
11:30

9:14
9:13
9:12

7:41
7:40
7:39

7:01
7:00
6:59

5:45
5:44
5:43

WINNER AND STILL XWF TELEVISION CHAMPION: SARAH WOLF!

The crowd are seen chatting amongst one another when the lights suddenly go out in the arena, causing a little buzz from the crowd.

''Wrestling has more than one... royal family.''

As soon as those words are heard, the crowd at Kroger Field erupted as you heard the commentator's reaction as well.

JC: Here they come, the fan favorites of the XWF's tag-team division! The American Storm!

''Adrenaline, in my soul
Every thought out of control
Do it all to get them off their feet''

''Crowd is here, about to blow
waitin' for me to start the show
out the curtain, lights go up I'm home
Whoooooooooooooa!''

Solomon Kline & Aidan Collins
- vs -
Razor Blade & Latoya Hixx
1 Collab/4k
Winners Challenge Tag Champions @ Relentless

WINNERS & NEW #1 CONTENDERS TO THE XWF TAG-TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS - THE TRIBE

WINNER: KIERAN KING

B L A C K.

The speakers erupt with distorted violins and a droning, percussive march—less music, more migraine. It gnaws at the eardrums, drawing out a wave of panic-screams and jeers from the crowd before the vocals even begin.

And then—
MARAETH’S voice splits the void:

"…NOW WE BECOME DEATH…"
"…THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS…"
♫ GO BACK TO SLEEP! ♫

CUT TO: THE STAGE.

A Perfect Circle’s Counting Bodies Like Sheep floods the arena, rhythm like blunt trauma—unyielding, brutal, hypnotic. Strobing white light bleeds through clouds of machine fog. Smoke billows like a fire waiting to engulf. A lone spotlight punches down, center stage.

♫ Don't fret precious, I'm here ♫
♫ Step away from the window
♫ And go… BACK TO SLEEP ♫

FROM BELOW—
MARAETH.

Their body rises through the haze like something that should not return. Painted in bruised purples and cosmic ash, Their form is muscular, elegant, and uncanny—what appears to be black ring gear clings to Them in jagged asymmetry, though murmurs persist that it’s body paint, applied with impossible precision. Their right side is overtaken by twisted, rootlike textures that resemble armor grown from inside Them. Their grin is too wide. Their eyes—unnatural, glowing—refuse to look away. And at the center of Their chest, nestled just above the sternum, sits a painted third eye, violet and closed. Watching. Or pretending to.

♫ COUNT BODIES LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ COUNTING BODIES LIKE SHEEP TO THE RHYTHM OF WAR DRUMS ♫

They descend the ramp like a puppet that chewed through its strings—shoulders twitching, head cocked, joints moving in gleefully incorrect directions. One step. A twitch. Another step. A sideways skip. Then laughter—sharp, sudden, wrong. It bursts from Their mouth like They didn’t mean to make it, then keeps coming anyway.

At ringside, They drop to Their belly and slither under the rope, dragging Themself across the mat with lazy fingers, like They’re bored of gravity. Reaching center, They rise to Their knees, then bend backward—slow, too far, too eager—until Their spine curves like a lie told one too many times.

Then They snap forward, mouth wide, throat open, and scream.

It isn’t pain. It isn’t rage.

It’s something older. Something delighted.

And as the echo hangs in the rafters, They giggle softly to Themself—grinning with that Spiral-shaped smile, like They know something you’re too scared to ask. The lights flash. The air clenches. And The bell hasn’t even rung.

The lights in the arena go deep blue as smoke fills the air. Pink and silver laser lights cut through the smoke and it looks fucking rad.

As Bobby's music blares throughout the arena, slowly walking out onto the entrance ramp is Bobby Bourbon. He looks out at the crowd in the arena, cold and stoic, surveying his surroundings. He stops and raises his fists at 45 degree angles, and continues his deliberate plod towards the ring. He raises both arms outward, accepting fives, slaps, daps, knucks, and touches as he does. He looks on into the ring, feeling the energy of every fan he makes contact with. He stops, and begins stomping in place, with the utmost joy to be in front of the XWF crowd. He stops a camera.

"I'm a bad, bad man, but like my home, the XWF, I have plenty of bad, bad fans!"

Bobby climbs the steps, then climbs the nearest ring post half way and raises his fists at 45 degree angles. The lights go back to normal and the music stops. The fans in attendance all echo their sentiments for the match.

"fuck 'em up, bobby, fuck 'em up." stomp stomp. "fuck 'em up, Bobby, fuck 'em up." stomp stomp. "Fuck 'Em Up Bobby, Fuck 'Em Up!" STOMP STOMP! "FUCK 'EM UP BOBBY, FUCK 'EM UP!!!" STOMP STOMP!

NEW XWF XTREME CHAMPION - DARREN DANGEROUS

WINNER - via pinfall- MARAETH

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!

Non-Title
Dolly Waters
- vs -
Dickie Watson

WINNER: DOLLY WATERS

]]> <![CDATA[WARFARE - August 4th, 2025]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49131 Tue, 05 Aug 2025 04:09:54 -0700 Thaddeus Duke]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49131

August - 4 - 2025

LIVE FROM THE 85th STURGIS MOTORCYCLE RALLY

STURGIS, SOUTH DAKOTA

Charlie Nickles
- vs -
Corey Black

Tatiana Jolee
- vs -
Razor
- vs -
Emilia Glazkov
- vs -
Dickie Watson
#1 Contender to TV Title
15 Minute Time Limit

Sebastian Everett-Bryce
- vs -
King Kieran

An XWF Logo fades from black and onto the TV screen before video recap plays…

Quote:July, 20th 2025
Lexington, KY
XWF Leap of Faith:

SUPER

DIVING

ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!

RIGHT ONTO CHARLIE’S HEART! DOLLY HOOKS THE LEG!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

T

H

R

E

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

WINNER AND NEW UNIVERSAL CHAMPION: DOLLY WATERS!

THE CHORUS OF ‘ODE TO JOY’ BLASTS THROUGH THE SPEAKERS!

JC: SHE DID IT! DOLLY WATERS DID IT! SHE SCALED THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN AND WON WHAT EVERYONE SAID SHE COULDN’T WIN! DOLLY WATERS IS STAYING IN THE XWF, AND SHE’LL BE HERE AS YOUR NEW UNIVERSAL CHAMPION!

Dolly Waters pulls herself up to her knees, as the referee scrambles to her with the Universal Championship in hand.

He leans down, handing it to Dolly. She cradles it for a moment, her eyes wide staring at the gold. The ref tries helping her to her feet, but Dolly staggers up, albeit limping, but under her own strength.

She looks around the arena. Her hometown crowd here in Lexington is going absolutely ballistic with a revolutionary fervor. She looks over to Peter Principle as Preesh and Kiss struggle to pull Charlie out of the ring. A little smirk dances on her lips…and she raises the Universal Championship high into the air.

Fireworks begin erupting over Kroger Field in Commonwealth Stadium.

Dolly looks out to her longtime friend Thad Duke, who is giving her a round of applause. She nods her head, and then proceeds to do the unthinkable…

JC: Wait… what’s Dolly doing?

She exits the ring, and climbs up on the barricade to the stands. She looks back at The Corporation one more time… for the last time… and raises a single fist into the air before jumping the barricade.

BG:She’s running off with the title, Jack!

JC: She’s being carried off by the people in the stands– her people!

While the people’s symphony of Ode To Joy continues to ring through the stadium, Dolly is carried along by the people themselves. Crowd-surfed. It’s like we’re watching an uncut folk opera. A moment of Appalachian majesty.

She’s carried all the way up to the exit of the stadium, where she comes to stand, and looks down on the XWF ring… one last time.

JC: Oh my god, Brody… Dolly’s contract with XWF expires tomorrow, you don’t think that she’s-

BG: Think it? Damnit, Jack, I know it! This little hussy is running off with the most prized possession in professional wrestling, the XWF Universal Championship!

The scene fades with Dolly again, raising a single fist of revolution into the steamy Kentucky air, as she and the Universal Championship vanish from sight.

….
…….
………..

The broadcast to XWF Warfare opens with revving engines, and leather gloves twisting on motorcycle handlebars, as the world’s largest celebration of motorbikes plays host to some XTreme Wrestling Federation action.

The camera pans over to JC and BG who are sitting behind the commentary table, with a sea of bikers and wrestling fans alike surrounding them and roaring with approval.

JC: XWF Fans! Welcome to Monday Warfare! Live from the 85th Sturgis Motorcycle Rally here in the scenic Sturgis, South Dakota!

BG: The air is crisp, and full of fumes, Jackie! Not only because of all these motorcycles, but because the XWF is absolutely on fire right now!

JC: Indeed! And as Brody is alluding to, ladies and gentlemen, we have a monumental show lined up for you tonight. The Xtreme and Television Championships are on line here tonight, and headlining the broadcast is a main event featuring two of the absolute best wrestlers in the world, but first… we need to address what has been the biggest story in professional wrestling over the last two weeks:

At Leap of Faith, Dolly Waters did the unthinkable!

Overcoming the odds, and defeating Charlie Nickles and The Corporation for the Universal Championship… and then in a shocking turn of events, Dolly fled the arena with the title, and walked-out of the XWF without re-signing her contract, making the XWF Universal Champion, officially, an un-signed free-agent.

BG: I think it’s ludicrous, Jackie. Dolly is not the XWF Universal Champion. She walked out on that privilege! All for some fanciful dream to turn this business into communist China!

JC: Brody, I think you forget exactly what happened in the weeks leading up to Leap of Faith. First, Dolly Waters and Madison Dyson were cheated out of the tag team championships by Peter Principle and The Corporation. Then, to add insult to injury, Peter forced her to wrestle again, the same night, against an AI Android of all things, which led to her literally being injured. And then, without any cause, Principle suspended her indefinitely. Dolly Waters was fighting for the call for reformation of the wrestling industry, and if this crowd is any indication, she’s not alone in those calls!

The camera pans around showing hundreds and hundreds of fans wearing Dolly shirts, and holding signs in support of the Universal Champion.

*DOL-LY! DOL-LY! DOL-LY!*

They’re chanting,

Suddenly, the broadcast feed switches from the stadium in Sturgis, to an undisclosed area. Some fancy looking hallway where we see Steve Sayors standing in front of a door that reads:

XWF BOARD OF DIRECTORS

Steve: Jack? Brody? I’m coming to live from this unique setting here in Sturgis, where the XWF Board of Directors are rumored to be awaiting the arrival of-

There’s a commotion in the distance, the camera turns and we hear the crowd who is watching the broadcast live ROAR as we finally see her… The Universal Champion, Dolly Waters.

ISteve: It’s her! She’s here!

Dawning all black, as always, but for the first time- wearing the Universal Championship around her waist- Dolly is being escorted by XWF security detail through this highly secure, undisclosed area in Sturgis.

Steve and the camera crew rush up to her, shoving a mic up near her mouth, and walking alongside her as she marches with purpose, her gaze not breaking from the office door…

Steve: Dolly- DOLLY! Your contract in XWF expired exactly two weeks ago, just hours after you won the Universal Championship at Leap of Faith. Rumor has it that today, you’ll be meeting with the board of directors to renegotiate that contract…

Depends.

Steve: On what exactly? What is it that you’re after?

She stops, turning slightly to face the camera,

I ain’t here to play nice, Steve. I didn’t fight through all the bullshit, the system, or the deep corruption in the XWF just to leave things as they are. I didn’t just take this title from Charlie Nickles and The Corporation at Leap of Faith, I took it from the people who’ve held all of us down for so long. Now, I’m here fighting for every wrestler, every worker of this industry who’s been silenced, exploited, or left behind.

She motions to the title,

This?

This ain’t just about the Universal Championship.

This is about sending a message.

One that ain’t gotta’ involve beating people down, or ending careers to prove yer’ worth.

Dolly looks over, feeling a particular set of eyes on her.

The eyes of the King of the XWF, King Kieran. A look of disgust on his face as he leans against the wall, his arms folded.

Dolly returns a little smirk from across the hallway, and then turns back to Steve,

I’m here to leverage this leverage, not just for me, but for the future of this industry…

She pauses, her eyes narrowing back at King.

...an industry that *some people* could give a damn whether it -or the people working for it- lives or dies.

She reaches the door to the office and turns back to the camera one more time,

I’m here on the behalf of hundreds… of thousands… who are demanding the first-ever union in professional wrestling; a guarantee that we’ll never be abused by this wannabe monarchy of a system again.

That means equal pay.

Guaranteed healthcare and retirement.

Dignity and respect for its workers and talent.

If they want me to stay, then this is the price. If they won’t pay it, they can kiss me and this title goodbye.

She gives the camera one last look before entering the office, her voice trailing off as the door closes behind her.

The broadcast to XWF Warfare fades to commercial break.

[JC: Welcome back to XWF Warfare! That was quite the opening to our program tonight, and it’s gotta’ make you wonder what might be in store for the future of XWF.

BG: All it makes me wonder is how the education system, especially in a good, god-fearing Republican state like Kentucky could’ve failed Dolly Waters so badly, filling her feeble mind with liberal propaganda.

JC: Hmmm… I don’t know, Brody. Unions are as American as apple pie. And you know what else is? Motorcycle rallies… and the XWF Xtreme Championship! And up next? Our opening match of the evening:

Solomon Kline, who has been on absolute tear as of late, defends the XTreme Championship against two of the most talented competitors in all of wrestling, Bobby Bourbon and Aurora! This should be an absolute thriller of a contest!

Take a look to the sky just before you die
It’s the last time you will

The arena plunges into total darkness. The faint hum of a crowd is cut off by the hollow clang of a funeral bell, echoing from every corner of the venue.

A deep, green light pulses once… twice… then holds steady as the iconic intro riff of Metallica’s “For Whom the Bell Tolls (Live with the San Francisco Symphony)” rumbles to life. The timpani and strings crawl in slowly like a thunderstorm on the edge of the valley.

Then, the screen comes to life – black background, one glowing word etched across it:

. : A U R O R A : .

As the first heavy guitar chug hits, a mako green spotlight crashes down on the stage. The smoke rolls in thick from beneath it. Standing within the mist is Aurora – head bowed, her hands clenched at her sides. Her silver hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, the faint green glow catching along its strands.

Rochelle Adams: Making her way to the ring at this time, from Arizona Bay… she is… the Catalyst… The Weaver of Dreams… She is… AURORA!

She doesn’t move at first – until the second bell tolls, echoing like an omen. Then, with precise, deliberate steps, she walks forward through the fog, her silhouette flickering like a mirage amidst the heat of the Sonoran desert.

Aurora circles the ring until she reaches the southeast ring post, grips the middle rope with both hands, and ascends to the apron.

Another emerald spotlight floods down as she stands center-apron. The lights above project shimmering auroras across the smoke-filled ceiling – spectral and unsettling. It follows her into the ring, where she ascends the southwest turnbuckle.

She slowly lifts her head to face the crowd.

JC: Here she is, the newly revealed Dreamweaver of the Black Rainbow! Or should I say, the turncoat of the Black Rainbow! All the potential in the world, and Aurora throws it all away to join them!

BG: I’m no fan of the Black Rainbow, Jac’, but you’ve got to imagine that Aurora sees this group as an opportunity to cement herself in the XWF.

JC: Beyond what she already has? It’s disgusting, Brody!

The lights in the arena go deep blue as smoke fills the air. Pink and silver laser lights cut through the smoke and it looks fucking rad.

As Bobby's music blares throughout the arena, slowly walking out onto the entrance ramp is Bobby Bourbon. He looks out at the crowd in the arena, cold and stoic, surveying his unique surroundings. He stops and raises his fists at 45 degree angles, and continues his deliberate plod towards the ring. He raises both arms outward, accepting fives, slaps, daps, knucks, and touches as he does. He looks on into the ring, feeling the energy of every fan he makes contact with. He stops, and begins stomping in place, with the utmost joy to be in front of the XWF crowd. He stops a camera.

"I'm a bad, bad man, but like my home, the XWF, I have plenty of bad, bad fans!"

Bobby climbs the steps, then climbs the nearest ring post half way and raises his fists at 45 degree angles. The lights go back to normal and the music stops. The fans in attendance all echo their sentiments for the match.

"fuck 'em up, bobby, fuck 'em up." stomp stomp. "fuck 'em up, Bobby, fuck 'em up." stomp stomp. "Fuck 'Em Up Bobby, Fuck 'Em Up!" STOMP STOMP! "FUCK 'EM UP BOBBY, FUCK 'EM UP!!!" STOMP STOMP!

The revving of motorcycle engines only adds to the aura.

Bobby acknowledges the crowd. They roar. Bobby looks back at Aurora.

JC: Bobby Bourbon is of course one half of the XWF Anarchy Tag Team Champions. With his partner Thunder Knuckles adding the Revolution Championship to the team's collection, Bourbon has a chance to also become a double champion here!

BG: Bourbon's a living legend. He's a strong favourite going into ANY match.

JC: But here comes the reigning champion, Solomon Kline, who has started gathering a TON of momentum with two defences under his belt already! Can he get one more here tonight and get himself past the half way mark towards that 24/7 briefcase!

BG: We'll find out!

"Dethrone" by Bad Omens plays throughout the arena. The lights go out. Once the beat drops, a spotlight shines on the entryway, where Solomon Kline appears inside the light, clad in a black hoodie over his ring gear and kneeling on his right knee. As the lyrics come in, he stands, removes his hood and surveys the crowd as sparks rain down around him. He grooves his way toward the ring, and high fives fans along the way. He circles the ring and slides under the bottom rope. He continues rocking out to the song and goes to the turnbuckle to let out a primal scream, singing along to the lyric, "Here am I, take me to the pearly gates, so I can look you in the eye when I spit in your face!"

He returns to the ring and readies himself for the match.

With all three competitors in the ring, the referee hoists the Xtreme Championship belt in the air. As he does, a rowdy biker from ringside hops the barricade and rushes the ring! He goes to attempt a schoolboy pin on Kline!

JC: These fans are on a highball of all manner of drugs and booze!

BG: Of course a couple of them want to try the Xtreme Champion!

Kline rolls through the pin attempt and back to his feet, but another member of the crowd has rushed the ring! Aurora looks on as this happens, but Bobby grabs the second fan by the throat, an eager grin on his face!

A third fan enters, and Aurora nails them with an Entropy Blade!

Bobby hoists the doofus he caught and gives them an EMC over the top rope to the outside!

Kline stomps on the face of the man who attempted to pin him!

A full scale riot erupts in Sturgis!

The crowd begins brawling themselves as the referee calls for the bell!

JC: Brody, the safest place in Sturgis might be in the ring itself!

BG: I don't know about that, Jackie!

All three competitors turn and face each other.

Bobby jaws off at both competitors as all three approach the center of the ring.

Kline reaches up and goozles Bobby, his grip around his throat.

Bobby returns the favor, gripping Kline by the neck!

Aurora bounds off the ropes and lands a Meteor Blast on both opponents!

NO!

Bobby backpedals and pulls Kline into taking the full brunt of the maneuver!

JC: Bourbon with a wily veteran move there, Brody!

BG: I think Bobby prefers the term “cunningly diabolical move”.

Aurora is back to her feet, and she nails Bobby with a heavy back chop.

Bobby retaliates with a forearm!

A chop from Aurora!

Bobby grabs Aurora and goes to dump her over the top rope!

Aurora clings on, pulling Bobby out as well!

Aurora with a neck strike to Bobby!

Bobby grabs Aurora and whips her into the barricade!

NO!

Aurora counters, sending Bobby into the barricade!

A bottle is smashed over Bobby’s head, and he's dragged into the riot happening in the crowd!

JC: Oh my God! This insane crowd has just pulled Bobby Bourbon into it!

BG: Call the National Guard, Jackie, while there's still a Sturgis standing!

Aurora slides back into the ring, but is caught with a shoulder block from Kline!

Kline with a knee drop to Aurora!

Kline brings Aurora to her feet, and sends her into the corner!

Kline follows with a huge clothesline, and steps back.

Aurora stumbles out of the corner, and Kline catches her!

Kline with Ashes to Ashes!

Kline with the cover!

1…

2…

Aurora gets a shoulder up!

Kline looks up at the referee, confirming it was a two count!

JC: Brody, you have to wonder, will the Black Rainbow have an impact in this match?

BG: Jackie, I think this crowd is too raucous for the Black Rainbow to have a meaningful impact here!

Kline starts to bring Aurora to her feet, but suddenly length of chain is hurled into the ring from the crowd and cleans the clock of Kline!

Kline recoils, allowing Aurora to get her bearings, and she again rushes her opponent with the Entropy Blade!

NO!

Kline catches Aurora, and hoists her for a big powerbomb!

NO! Aurora whips Kline to the outside with a snap Frankensteiner!

Aurora backs off to thw opposite rope, and comes back with a corkscrew tope con hilo!

NO!

Kline catches her, the pitches her unto the third row!

Aurora is carried off by the crowd as she engages in the riotous brawl, ringside.

Kline rolls back into the ring.

As he does, lurching out of the crowd, face caked in blood, is Bobby Bourbon.

JC: I thought this one was over, but Bobby Bourbon seems to have fought his way through Sturgis to get back in this match!

BG: He looks like a damned demon escaping hell!

Bobby looks up into the ring, the whites of his eyes contrasting with the five star crimson mask of blood he is adorned with.

A sick smile forms on Bobby’s face.

JC: Brody, there's blood in his teeth, do we know if it's his?

BG: I am not asking him. Ever. He'll bully me, say my name is dumb, and take over on commentary.

Kline beckons for Bobby to get back in the ring as Bobby slowly plods towards the ring.

Kline shoots off the ropes and goes for a huge suicide dive!

NO!

Bobby takes two steps to the left, shaking his head ‘no’.

Bobby looks down at Solomon, then at the ring. Bobby reaches underneath, and pulls out a bag.

Bobby looks inside, and is bemused. He pulls out a D cell battery.

JC: Bourbon’s going to beat Kline with a sack full of batteries!

BG: How many bags are under the ring? Snakes, tacks, now batteries?

Bobby looks back at the prone body of Kline.

Bobby winds up.

Bobby swings the sack full of batteries at Kline.

NO!

Solomon Kline rolls out of the way!

Kline with a boot to Bobby from the floor!

Bobby recoils, slinging the sack skyward as batteries shower the infamous Sturgis Riot of 2025.

Kline to his feet, and he throws a shoulder into Bobby’s abdomen, backing him into the ring apron!

Kline rears back and throws another shoulder into Bobby!

Bobby clubs Kline with a double axe handle!

Kline with another shoulder!

Bobby with another double axe handle!

Kline stands, and goes nose to nose with Bobby!

Bobby bites Kline's nose!

JC: Christ, Bobby’s gone feral!

BG: Well I think we know that isn't all his blood on him!

Kline instinctively knees Bobby in the groin!

Bobby releases his bite, and plops to the ground.

Kline reaches under the ring, and is overjoyed when he pulls a kendo stick from within.

Kline rears back and brings the kendo stick down on Bourbon!

Kline drops down, pinning Bobby on the floor!

1…

2…

Bobby barely kicks out!

Kline stands and starts driving boots into Bobby, before bringing him up to his feet.

Kline with a measured punch to Bobby’s skull.

Kline again winds a hand up, but Bobby catches it!

Bobby throws a right at Kline!

Both men brawl their way towards the entrance!

Kline with a big knee lift to Bobby, doubling him over!

Kline sets Bobby up to be lifted for a powerbomb.

JC: This one could be over, Brody!

BG: How often do you see Bobby Bourbon get muscled around like this?

Kline hoists Bobby up…

CRIMSON DAWN!

Bobby’s back splatters on the stiff metal stage.

Kline holds the legs for the pinfall.

1…

2…

2.9…

AND COMING FROM THE TOP OF THE XTRON WITH A DIVE IS AURORA!

The pin is broken up at the last minute as Aurora lands, leaving all three competitors laid out on the entrance ramp!

JC: AURORA JUST TOOK TO THE AIR!

BG: This match can't get any wilder, JC, this is what the Xtreme Championship means!

Aurora crawls to the entrance, and uses it to brace herself as she tries to stand.

Kline rolls onto his side, limp after the massive leap.

Bobby is prone on the floor.

Aurora is to her feet, looking over at both Bobby and Kline.

Kline is slowly getting to his feet.

Aurora waves from the back!

Kline steels himself, unsure of how many members of the Black Rainbow might be on their way out!

JC: Here it comes, Brody, Aurora is going to bring the Black Rainbow into this!

BG: You hate to see it, Jackie.

Black smoke pours from the entrance.

Aurora leans back, expecting her Messenger to arrive.

The smoke dies down, and we see the riot has spilled backstage!

XWF superstars are brawling with the wild Sturgis crowd, sending them back to their seats!

Kline stalks Aurora, who steps away from the entrance and walks towards him!

Kline loads up a big clothesline, but Aurora slides, and takes Kline down with a leg tackle!

Aurora pivots, and sets in an Anaconda Vice!

JC: Aurora is changing up her game, trying to get the Xtreme Champion to submit!

BG: What a surprise tactic!

The referee checks the hold, and in on Kline!

Kline's hand wavers as he experiences the agony of the hold!

Suddenly it's broken up by Bobby Bourbon, diving in desperation!

Bobby kneels, surveying Kline and Aurora.

Kline grips his neck, relieved to be out of the Anaconda Vice!

Aurora backs away.

Bobby brings himself to his feet, and brings Kline up, whom he plants with a spinebuster!

Aurora rushes at Bobby, and he catches her with a spinebuster!

Another crazed fan jumps the barricade, and Bobby plants them with a spinebuster!

Kline back to his feet, and he turns into Bobby, who lands yet another spinebuster!

JC: Spinebuster City!

BG: Vintage Bobby here!

Bobby, still caked in blood, picks Aurora up, but she counters with an inside cradle!

1…

2…

Bobby kicks out!

Aurora to her feet, keeping Bobby in a head hold!

Aurora sets up for the Aurora Destroyer!

Kline with a huge dropkick out of nowhere to Aurora, backing her away!

Kline plants Bobby's head between his thighs, setting for another Crimson Dawn!

NO!

Bobby back body drops Kline over the barricade and into the crowd!

The crowd is still pitched in a full scale riot!

Bobby watches as Kline disappears into the rioting crowd.

JC: Solomon Kline seems to be lost, involved in this huge brawl!

BG: I really hope it dies down by the next match!

Bobby wearily turns around, and sees Aurora struggling to get back to her feet.

Bobby approaches her, and kicks her in the gut!

Bobby hoists Aurora up…

BOBBYBOMB ONTO THE ENTRANCE STAGE!

Bobby goes for the cover!

1…

2…

3!

WINNER, AND NEW XTREME CHAMPION
BOBBY BOURBON

JC: What a way to kick off the action tonight in Sturgis!

BG: Beautiful Bobby Bourbon is the new Xtreme Champion!

JC: Indeed he is, Brody!

BG: Kline had a nice run though, no doubt he’ll be back in a title picture before long!

The camera opens up backstage on the withered face of Steve Sayors. Wasting no time, Sayors jumps straight in:

Steve Sayors: “Joining me now… The King of the XWF… King Kieran.:

The camera pans across to Sayors left where King Kieran stands—his face looking extra punchable.

King Kieran: “LONG LIVE THE KING!”

King’s proud exclamation gets absolutely zero response from anybody in the nearby vicinity, except perhaps Sayors himself who gazes at the king like a lost puppy. But that's also his default look, so maybe it doesn't count.

Steve Sayors: “Your Majesty, Leap of Faith has come and gone and you once again found yourself on the receiving end of an attack from the Black Rainbow, this time with Aurora joining them as the Dreamweaver that The Messenger—whom you asked to fight—had heralded. How are you fe–”

King holds up a finger to Sayors’ lips.

King Kieran: “Hush now, sweet Steven. If any of you were surprised at Aurora showing her yellow belly like that, then that speaks volumes about you and not about me. Once again, YOUR KING put his body on the line to EXPOSE the threats to this fine company. You should be thanking me for making it clear who the real villains are. But alas! The horrid villainy of this place runs deeper than woven dreams and darkly coloured meteorological phenomena. Tonight, I turn Sebastian Everett-Bryce inside out and remind everyone just WHO THE FUCK I AM. But he's just the first. I'm not here to talk about the Black Rainbow, Steve. I'm here to talk about this…”

From off screen, King pulls the crown of the XWF into view—the very one that has not left his possession for over sixteen months now.

King Kieran: “This crown means something, Steve. This crown means that I have THE LONGEST CONTINUOUS REIGN OF ANY ACCOLADE IN XWF HISTORY. Unless of course you count me being the last X-Mas X-Treme tournament winner—fifteen years and counting! But I'm not just the greatest tournament performer in XWF history. I am the goddamn king of this place! I am THE definition of the greatest wrestler going. SEB who? Isaiah who? DOLLY FUCKING WATERS WHO?”

Steve Sayors: “Did you… did you hear what Dolly had to say at the start of the show?”

King Kieran: “I was right there Steve! Of course I heard it! She thinks this place needs change? I SAID THAT FOUR MONTHS AGO. I stepped out into the middle of the ring, fresh off YET AGAIN doing EXACTLY what I said I'd do by retaining my crown—a promise the likes of which Dolly has NEVER been able to keep—and I put everyone here on notice. I told everyone that if they didn't step their game up that I would come in and I wouldn't WEAVE any dreams. I'd CRUSH THEM. Dolly thinks she's part of the solution. I say, she is an expression of the exact problem that I spoke about four months ago. This year, we've gone from SEB, to Isaiah, to Shark, to Nickles, to Dolly… where the fuck does it stop? I'll tell you.

It stops here.

It stops with me.

Bitches and gentlefucks, by DIVINE RIGHT and the power vested in me as YOUR KING, I hearby declare that the main event of Night Three of Relentless will be KING KIERAN DEFEATING DOLLY WATERS FOR THE UNIVERSAL CHAMPIONSHIP.”

A slow, deliberate clap echoes from offscreen.

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

Charlie Nickles steps into frame, flanked by The Grok on his left and Matthias Syn on his right. All three are decked out in all-black suits with red pocket squares- except for Charlie, who’s pocket square is green. Neither Syn nor The Grok says a word, they just stare silently in Kieran’s direction while Charlie steps forward.

Charlie Nickles: “Wow. What a speech! Truly inspiring stuff, Kieran. And Steve? Steve, buddy...”

Sayors stiffens immediately as the Acting General Manager puts a heavy hand on his shoulder. Then, Syn steps just a little too close, invading Steve’s personal space

Charlie Nickles: “Steve, you do realize you’re standing backstage, on MY program, sticking a live mic in the face of a man who hasn’t held championship gold in years... right?”

Charlie, Grok, and Syn surround Steve Sayors.

Charlie Nickles: “You don’t get to decide who’s worth airtime. That’s my decision now. You want to keep your job, Steve? Maybe next time, you ask for clearance before you start interviewing the enhancement talent!”

Charlie turns back to King Kieran, while Grok and Syn inch forward just enough to make it clear they’re threatening Kieran.

Charlie Nickles: “And you…”

The Acting General Manager gestures casually, as if Kieran’s barely even worth his time.

Charlie Nickles: “You’ve spent the last sixteen months walkin’ around with a Burger King crown on your head, screamin’ about ‘Divine Right’, making empty speeches while letting The Rainbow Warriors whip you black and blue all over!”

Charlie flicks his hand in the air dismissively.

Charlie Nickles: “You couldn't even keep the Hot Topic kids in check. You didn’t expose them. You just got played by them. Meanwhile? I ran Gorgo outta’ the fucking company. I put Enigma on a milk carton! I didn’t write a fancy speech about it, Kieran: I just handled business.”

Charlie steps in closer to Kieran, flanked on either side by The Grok and Matthias Syn. Grok adjusts his cufflinks. Syn cracks his knuckles without breaking eye contact with Kieran.

Charlie Nickles: “You wanna call shots in -MY- company? You better get in line: behind every name you rattled off like some deranged fanboy.”

Charlie tilts his head to the side, looking Kieran up and down with ill-intent.

Charlie Nickles: “You can keep playin’ “King” if it helps you sleep at night. But remember this, Kieran: one day soon you’re gonna wake up and realize you’re not wearing a crown….

You’re just wearing a target.”

King Kieran: “I mean… no shit. That's why everyone wants a piece of me. But nobody gives a fuck about going after you.”

King shoulder bumps past Nickles and both Syn and Grok look to go after him but Nickles shakes his head no.

Charlie Nickles: “I've got a better idea, boys…”

JC: Folks, our ring crew had to scramble together to reset the ring after a full-on riot broke out in our opener…

BG: And somehow, I’ve got a gut feeling this match could take all that damage they fixed and wreck it even worse!

The lights in the arena fade slowly to black. The opening tones of "I Would Die 4 U" by Prince and The Revolution blast from the PA, sending the crowd to their feet. They scream out the lyrics as Corey Black emerges from the back, walking out onto the stage with intent, bathed in a white light while purple ones circle the arena. He is wearing a hooded dark denim vest that has metal band patches all over it and a large Pantheon logo back patch. Corey stands at the top of the ramp, looking out into the frenzy of dancing and singing attendees, nodding his approval.

JC: Corey Black! King of the Deathmatch! The King of the Wrestlers! One of the most absolutely dominant competitors in the wrestling industry!

BG: And no fan of Charlie Nickles! Corey Black declared himself better than this company! He called Charlie Nickles a cheap knockoff!

JC: Fighting words, Brody! But fighting words flow from the mouth of a man who loves to fight! And Corey Black? LOVES to fight!

He makes his way down the ramp, taking his time to survey the landscape around him and get himself a good look at the ring before him. As he reaches it, Corey slides in under the bottom rope and pops to his feet, unleashing a roar and throwing the devil horns into the air toward the hard cam. He takes the vest off and drops it to ringside before heading to his corner and crouching down, waiting for the match to begin.

…

Bullet With a Point begins to blare over the loudspeakers as CHARLIE NICKLES makes his way out from the back. The Savior of the XWF flashes a shit-eating grin at the audience members, tapping the gold for all to take notice.

BG: Speaking of men who love to fight… Charlie Nickles! The Universal champion! The Corporate Savior of the XWF!

JC: Former Universal champion, you mean, Brody! He did come just inches short against Dolly Waters… even while he stacked the deck in his favor with malfeasance and interference!

BG: Oh whatever! You see Dolly Waters competing tonight? No! Charlie Nickles was out here every week with Big Gold! And even after taking a licking, he’s out here defending the XWF! THAT’S a real champion there!

Nickels slides into the ring like a mad dog, alternating between muttering comments to himself and barking threats at the “King of the Wreslters”... Black is wholly unaffected.

The official steps between the two and starts delivering commands to the officials…

JC: Well, this is a dream match! Two men known the world over for their ability to take matches to X-Treme places! However, tonight’s bout is a purely standard rules affair! Both these men will have to conform to the confines o-

”HOLD IT!!”

From the top of the ramp, there’s some kerfuffle with the curtain at the top of the X-Tron!

”J-just wait a second!”

Finally, the curtains are parted… XWF Warfare General Manager Peter Principle is wheeled out in his wheelchair by his assistant Nadine.

JC: Oh God… I thought we’d seen the last of Peter Principle now that Thad had returned.

BG: Peter seems to still have some power for now… Which means Charlie might have a trick or two up his sleeve as… “Acting Warfare General Manager”...

Nadine lifts a microphone up to her lips.

”Check one, two… Check, check…” Nadine raises a thumb to the crowd of bikers, which she tilts up and down. ”Good? No good?”

JC: GET ON WITH IT!

Nadine clears her throat, before retrieving a sheet of paper…

”By order of our Warfare General Manager, Peter Principle… This match’s stipulation has just been updat-... er, Up-GRADED!” Nadine reads…

”Charlie Nickles - vs - Corey Black is now…”

“X-TREME RULES! NO DISQUALIFICATIONS!”

The crowd goes from a 9 on the 1-to-10 excitement scale to a 15-and-three-quarters!

JC: Oh my God! Charlies Nickles AND Corey Black! No disqualifications!

BG: Is this real? Is this official?!?

Charlie Nickles
- vs -
Corey Black
NO DISQUALIFICATIONS

JC: It’s on the graphic! Looks official to me!

The official blinks, flustered at the last minute change, before going to the competitors… Instructing them to forget what he just said. He starts over, this time with his X-Treme rules spiel. First, w-

WHAM! Charlie suddenly delivers an uppercut straight under Black’s jaw! Black gets rocked back to his corner!

DING DING!

JC: A dirty shot by Charlie Nickles to start off this match!

Black looks dazed in the corner, as Charlie reaches into the pockets of his sweatpants… Retrieving… Barbed wire!

The crowd is going nuts for this unexpected foray into X-Treme violence!

BG: Barbed wire! Charlie Nickles has barbed wire!

JC: Almost like he KNEW this match was going to have a last minute stipulation update!

BG: UpGRADE, Jacko! Get your words right!

JC: Nickles clearly abusing the power he has as Principle’s chosen one to manipulate things in his favor!

Nickels wraps the barbed wire tight around his fist… Black shakes his head, clearing cobwebs from that surprise strike…

Nickels jogs across the ring… Going for a diving punch-splash to the cornered Black!

…

But Black rolls under!

JC: Surprisingly agile somersault dodge from the King of the Wrestlers!

Nickles’ fist collides with the turnbuckle! He grins with a maniacal fire in his eyes! He goes to spring off the middle rope, like a puma leaping onto its prey…

…

…Wait! His fist, covered in barbed wire… It’s embedded in the mesh of the turnbuckle!

JC: Oh wow! Miscalculation by the Nickleman! The former Universal Champion is in serious trouble!

Black spins around, ready to fend off more offense… As he spots Nickles struggling with all his might to rip his fist off the turnbuckle!

It’s Black’s turn to grin with sadistic glee… He sprints across the ring!

Nickles pulls and pulls to free himself…

BG: It’s no good! Charlie’s stuck on the tracks!

JC: And a runaway freight train named Corey Black is headed straight for him!

YAKUZA KICK!

Charlie get K-N-O-C-K-E-D!

Nickles goes sprawling up and over the top rope!

And that finally knocks his hand free as he drops to the padded concrete outside the ring!

JC: I think Charlie might have miscalculated here, in more ways than one! He thought that X-Treme Rules would give him an advantage… But he’s in there with the “King of the Deathmatch” Corey Black!

BG: How many different ways is Black a King? All I know is I didn’t vote for him!

Black scans around for weapons, trying to adapt to the sudden shift to X-Treme Rules… Before seeing the crowd! Many, MANY hands of bikers are up in the air, those in the front row are hanging over the barrier, offering chains and tire irons to the King of the Deathmatch!

JC: Oh shit! This crowd came prepared to SCRAP!

BG: We had a full-blown riot break out in our opener! It looks like this crowd is ready to watch other people wreak horrifying violence on each other…

Black’s eyes spark as he slides under the bottom rope… He snags a pair of tire irons from the crowd…

On the other side of the ring, Charlie is regaining his senses, squeezing his fist, his knuckles running red with blood as the barbed wire digs into his flesh…

Black zips around the ring as Nickles spots Black circling the ring for him… And shoves the apron to start walking… in the opposite direction!

JC: Nickles trying to get the hell outta dodge!

BG: But Corey Black is on the warpath!

Indeed, Black smacks one of his two tire irons against the mat like the smacking of a war drum as he quickly steps, closing the distance between himself and the Nickleman…

Charlie palms his way to the apron, pawing to the steel steps beside the ring…

Black is in hot pursuit…

When Nickles picks up the steps and hucks them toward his charging opponent!

JC; Oh my! The strength of Charlie Nickles! Hucking that like a garbage man!

Black suddenly sees a mass of black steel heading straight for his forehead!

…

HE SIDESTEPS! The stairs clatter loudly behind Black as they smash against concrete and skid to a halt!

JC: Phew! The reflexes on Corey Black save him from a knockout blow… And possible reconstructive surgery to his face!

Black looks back, evaluating the heap of metal that almost took off his skull… He spins back aro-

WHAM! A fist full of barbed wire collides with Black’s skull!

JC: Oh GOD, what a haymaker!

BG: I don’t think you could have bloodier punch! Black is missing a chunk of his forehead after that strike!

A deep gash bleeds like a fountain over Corey Black’s eyes as he backpedals defensively into the apron, dropping the tire iron in his left hand…

Charlie cackles in relief as he picks up the tire iron Corey just dropped…

JC: Oh no… that sadist wants to break Corey completely, bit by bit, until nothing is left of the King of the Wrestlers!

Charlie winds up over his head, looking for a finishing bl-

WHAM! In a sudden desperation swing, Black catches Charlie with a tire iron to the gut!

Nickles doubles over, cradling his ribs, like he’s about to be sick all over the outside…

JC: It feels like the match just started but every single one of these shots could be a knockout blow!

BG: These two men have spent their entire careers exploring the thresholds of the pain that the human body is capable of enduring! Add in the fact that these two men despise each other… And both these two would be willing to crawl through HELL if it meant putting the other man down for a three-count!

Black breathes a sigh of relief, blood streaming down his skull as he grabs the doubled-over Nickles by the scalp and drags him toward the metal pole outside the ring… Laying Charlie’s skull against the cold steel…

JC: Oh my god… Corey Black is about to cave in Nickles’s skull like an eighteen-wheeler driving over a watermelon!

BG: I haven’t seen that one, don’t tell me how it ends!

Charlie cradles his gut… Devoting his energy to regaining his breath… Immobile…

As Corey backs up toward the barricade, bikers reaching over to pat Black on the back…

Black charges!

PENALTY KICK AGAINST THE POLE!

…

MISSES! Charlie shoves himself off the pole and to the padded concrete! Black’s boot fully dents the pole, which bends outwards at an angle!

JC: Holy sh-...wow! Black’s kick just completely busted the turnbuckle!

Black brings his boot back to the ground, spinning towards Charlie, who’s up to one knee…

Black scoops an arm around Charlie’s throat, looking for a T-Bone sup-

BUT CHARLIE WHIPS BLACK OFF HIS FEET!

And spins him toward the barricade!

SPINEBUSTER SLAM ONTO THE METAL RAILING!

JC: oooooooooof, FUCK, that has to suck!

BG: You ain’t kiddin’, Jacko! Black’s gonna want a careful accountin’ of all his vertebrae after that UGLY slam!

Black crumples like a heap onto the outside… His chest heaving like his spine might be broken after that one…

Nickles barely gathers the wherewithal to breath again… Before crawling on his stomach, using just his right arm… To drape it over Black’s shoulders!

JC: No disqualifications! Falls count anywhere! Could this be it?

The official, who with the stipulation change, has remained inside the ring, keeping as far away from this insane X-Treme action as possible, finally has no choice but to go toward the danger! He slides under the bottom rope and drops to count!

1!

2!

THR-NOOOOOOOOOO!

Black FORCES a shoulder off the padded concrete!

JC: Wow! Where on EARTH did Corey Black find the strength to keep going after that one?!?

Charlie is shoved back into a seated position from Black’s authoritative kickout! The Nickleman immediately starts barking at the official, demanding to know why he was out of position and if he wants to count to three on the unemployment line!

JC: Charlie Nickles, abusing his power as always!

The official tries to point to the XWF logo on his shirt to assert his authori-WHAM! In an instant, Charlie bowls over the rules-man on his ass, before sliding back into the ring!

JC: Charlie Nickles finally bringing this match back inside the squared circle! We might finally see something resembling a wrestling match out here!

BG: I wouldn’t count on it!

Black exhaustedly scoops himself off the padded concrete… His eyes blinded by the blood running down his skull… He wipes his face dry… Only for the blood to immediately replace it!

JC: Charlie’s punch is causing a geyser of blood to run straight into Black’s eyes! Black’s gotta figure something out!

…Black wipes his face clean… And sees a biker in the front row extend a bandana…

Black grabs it, nodding… And wraps it around his scalp, blocking the flow of blood!

The crowd goes wild!

BG: Don’t know what the hell is wrong with Sturgis’ biker population, but they seem to be all-in on Corey Black!

JC: I think some of them sense a kindred spirit! And others don’t like that Nickles stacked the deck in his favor!

Back inside the ring, Nickles reaches under the middle turnbuckle in his corner… And retrieves… A pouch!

JC: Another trick up Nickles’s sleeve hidden in the environment! Again, one might suspect he knew about this ‘last-minute’ stipulation ‘upgrade’ the whole time!

BG: That’s just how game a competitor he is, Jacko! Always have a backup plan in case things get X-TREME!

JC: An absolutely preposterous statement, Brody!

Charlie opens the pouch and begins pouring out onto the mat of the ring… THUMBTACKS!

JC: OF COURSE! Charlie made absolutely HORRIFYING work of those thumbtacks against ‘Micheal Graves’ several weeks ago on Anarchy!

BG: …Those aren’t the EXACT same thumbtacks that went into ‘Graves’’s skin, though, right? That would… ugggh, on second thought, don’t tell me, Jackie boy…

A sudden little pool of thumbtacks gets poured out on the mat… As Black finally rolls under the bottom rope back toward the action!

BG: Uh oh! Charlie’s still setting up his thumbtacks… Does he see Black coming from behind?!?

Charlie finishes pouring on his mountain of thumbtacks…

Just as Black scoops his arms from behind!

Full Nelson Face-Bu-...NO!

Nickles manages to wring an arm out of Black’s grip and drive an elbow into Black’s gut! Black staggers back against the ropes!

BG: Phew, close call for the Nickleman! He almost ate a face full of thumbtacks!

JC: I don’t know if phew is the right expression, given that just means Black is in TROUBLE!

Nickles peels Black off the ropes and plants a BOOT in his gut! Black doubles over onto his knees…

As Charlie pulls Black up by his belt… Into piledriver position!

JC: Oh MY GOD! Black is about to get DUNKED into those thumbtacks!

Nickles tries to step backwards, over the thumbtacks, to maximize the surface area of Corey’s face that’s getting STABB-

…Suddenly, Corey shifts his weight! And his legs come back down to the mat!

JC: Oh thank god… Black manages to avoid the piledriver!

Nickles slams his fists against Black’s back! Axe Handle! Axe Handle!

Black drops to his knees again, looking battered as Nickles cranks his neck, calling for a piledriver!

JC: Oh God, I can’t look…

Nickles goes to liiiiiiiiii-

IN a sudden swoop of a back strength, Black lifts Nickles off his feet! Black spins!

BACK BODY DROP!

ONTO THE THUMBTACKS!

Nickles IMMEDIATELY pops off the mat, cradling his back, which looks like a PINCUSHION! The back of his shirt is almost immediately SOAKED in red!

The crowd goes absolutely nuts!

JC: Oh God! Oh please let that be it… I can’t take any more of this…

BG: It could be! If Black could make the cover!

Black… the spot on the mat where his head lay, starting to pool red as his bandana is soaked with blood… Crawls slowly across the ring where the Nickleman is in shock…

Black shoves the former Universal champion back against the thumbtacks! Nickles’ eyes widen as thumbtacks are EMBEDDED into his back!

Black hooks the leg!

1!

2!

THRE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

How the FUCK did Charlie Nickles kick out of that one?!?

BG: Possible miscalculation by Corey Black there! Nickles was in a state of paralysis via shock… And I think that second batch of thumbtacks might’ve rebooted his nervous system and gave him the wherewithal to kick out!

JC: Oh god, no, please… No more!

BG: Be a man, Jacko! This kinda programming is good for ya!

Black collapses onto his back, looking like he’s been through hell itself…

Meanwhile, Charlie… using the last of his strength…

Crawls under the bottom rope and out of the ring!

JC: Is Charlie high-tailing it for the back?!?

BG: This is a strategic retreat, Jacko! Charlie needs to recovery time to peel out some of those thumbtacks… And re-assess his next attack!

Charlie clumsily plods under the ropes, collapsing onto his front on the padded concrete… He works arm–over-arm toward the ramp…

Black pulls himself up exhaustedly to a seated position by the bottom rope, before dropping and rolling to the outside…

JC: Just an earlier moment in the match… Charlie is trying to create distance… But Black is in hot pursuit!

Charlie is crawling to the audience barricade… Pulling himself up to his feet slowly…

As Black comes from behind… Grabs him by the scruff of the neck… And hurls him back inside the ring!

JC: Black tired of Nickles’ tricks! He knows wherever Charlie was crawling, another weapon surely lay in wait!

Charlie rolls under the bottom rope… As Black rolls in after him…

JC: This one might be all ov-... Wait, someone’s coming down the ramp! The same direction Charlie Nickles was just headed!

Bursting from behind the curtain under the X-Tron…

It’s…

The Syn City Saint, Matthias Syn!

JC: Matthias Syn just aligned himself with Charlie Nickles!

BG: But whose side is he on? Even the Grok said Syn was only 12% loyal!

Black hears the roar of the crowd as Matthias Syn charges down the ramp… He spins toward the outside, seeing the Syn City Saint coming… And beckons him to hit the ring!

Meanwhile, from behind, Nickles reaches into his sweatpants… Retrieving…

Brass knuckles!?!

BG: One last X-Treme trick up the Nickleman’s sleeve!

Syn hits the bottom of the ramp and rolls under the bottom rope!

Black reels back an elbow!

Syn ducks, running forward!

From behind, Nickles slides on the knuck-

Syn slinks past and takes the knuckles off Nickles’ hand!

BG: What?!?

JC: A double-cross! The Revolutionary just took the last weapon out of the hands of the Corporation’s champion!

Nickles looks at his now-empty hand perplex-

WHAM! Black drops him with a boot to the gut…

Black looks at Syn, not quite sure what to make of it!

Syn barks at him, holding the knuckles, telling Black to finish it!

Black looks at the thumbtacks…

Scoops Nickles into a T-Bone Suplex position!

JC: Oh please, no more thumbtacks!

Syn…

Puts on the knuckles!

Black starts to heave Nickles u-

WHAM! Syn catches Black with a brass knuckles shot to the skull!

The crowd immediately rains down a flood of boos!

JC: A double-double cross! Syn saves Nickles!

…Red pours down over Black’s eyes… His legs are jelly but his body’s too broken to fall…

Charlie shoves himself off the mat!

And scoops Black’s skull under his arm!

DEVIL HOOK DROP ONTO THE THUMBTACKS!

JC: …I’m gonna be sick… I’m gonna… oh goooooooood….

Nickles collapses ontop of Black as Syn shoves the official to the mat ordering him to count!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

WINNER: CHARLIE NICKLES!

BG: What an absolute war! Corey Black proved why he’s called the King of the Deathmatch AND the King of Wrestling! But Charlie Nickles proved why the house always wins! He played the game masterfully, stacked the deck in his favor an-... Hey, Syn’s got a mic!

Corey Black is gasping. Syn has already brutalized him. The microphone is hot, blood drips down Syn’s boot. The crowd is screaming. He lifts the mic like a knife to the throat of the entire industry.

Syn pauses to take in the boo's. What did he care. They were nothing new to him. These aren't fans. They're livestock. Fattened on nostalgia and two counts. Begging to be slaughtered in high definition.

You scream sellout like there was ever something left of me to buy.

You treat this like a morality play. Heel vs face. Good vs evil. You watch wrestling like it's fucking Harry Potter.

"Oh no, he turned to the dark side." Grow up. Read a book. Get hit by a bus.

You want me to feel guilty for picking a side that pays me to kill your idols?

Look at him. Syn points to a lifeless Corey Black. Charlie doesn't move. Doesn't flinch. There's a glint in his eye that isn't shock. It's not hesitation. It's pride. His smile crooked. He watches Syn like you watch a bomb go off after handing someone the detonator.

That's what legacy buys you. A broken fucking neck. A twitching corpse. And a silent crowd full of cowards who were begging him to keep going.

You're not lost, Corey. You're extinct. You're not homeless. You're unwanted. You're not a God. You're the last desperate gasp of a man who knows his story is over but refuses to die.

You taught an entire generation to respect their elders. I teach them to put a bullet in the back of their skulls.

After tonight, Corey. You can run back to your little Minneapolis apartment jerking off to the sound of your own monologue, mistaking exposition for charisma. Thinking ten dollar words cover ten cent insecurities.

"I don't belong here."

That's what he said. That's what the God of Death, the King of Wrestlers, the Ironman himself said right before I turned his neck into a trampoline.

"I don't belong here."

Good. I did you a favor then, Corey. I made sure you don't have to come back.

I don't respect Corey Black. I don't respect any of you. Respect is currency printed by losers. The majority of this roster is Heatless. Gutless. Lifeless. They're cosplaying importance while waiting for permission to matter.

They'll tell you to just be consistent, while they beg to lose to the same four safe names on every goddamned card. They don't want a moment. They want a graphic. These people bleed for screen time and choke for applause. That's not heart. That's hospice.

You wanted a monster. I'll give you a fucking extinction event.

Charlie didn't come to me because he trusts me. He came to be because no one else in this locker room has the balls to burn it down with him.

You'll all ask yourselves, why did Syn take the offer?

Let me make it real simple for the art school dorks in the back who think your arc matters more than your win-loss column.

Because I could.

I saw opportunity. I saw an entire company begging for the villain that it actually deserved. Boo me until your heart stops. I don't give a single fuck. But let's get something fucking straight:

I'm the most honest thing in this company.

That's why I said yes. That's why I took the deal. Now, I can say whatever the fuck I want and no one can stop me.

But Syn, why Corey?

Why not?

Corey Black walked into this company and thought he was above it. Because he thought name value was a substitute for relevance. Because he thought if he said the word Pantheon enough, the ring would lower itself to his knees and beg for him to bless it.

I gutted your favorite nostalgia act on national television like a pig at MAGA luau. Corey Black can now rest peacefully in the grave where his relevance already lives.

They asked me to be a weapon. This isn't an alliance. This isn't a rebrand. This is a hostile fucking takeover. This is scorched earth with corporate sponsors. This is hate with health benefits.

The Corporation isn't here to coexist. We're here to gut this company like a pig and sell it's spine on QVC.

I am the nuclear option. I'm the thing you call when the devil says no. I don't want respect. I don't even want your spotlight. I want your death rattles.

I want your children to ask, Daddy, who was Syn? And I want for you to whisper, The reason wrestling changed forever.

Your last hope died when Nickels shook my hand. And your next one dies when I open my fucking mouth again.

Syn spits on Corey's chest. Drops the mic like a brick. The crowd screams in rage. Syn smiles through the hate.

STATIC

Tatiana Jolee is already in the ring, stretching in her corner in her blackout ring attire with matching boots and pads, hair pulled into a bun. The black leather jacket with the Canadian flag on the back now hangs over the ropes, ready to be collected by the timekeeper.

She rolls her neck once, eyes on the ramp, waiting for the others to arrive.

JC: Tatiana Jolee already in the ring, Brody. The veteran technician with over two decades in the sport.

BG: Yeah, but this isn’t a two-out-of-three falls bout in some Vancouver rec center, Jackie. This is a fifteen-minute sprint with three hungry opponents. She’s walking in outnumbered and outgunned.

JC: You can never count out that kind of experience.

BG: Experience doesn’t mean a thing when you’re the slowest shark in the water.

The lights go out and hear a voice saying "Wrestling has one royal family" and when Kingdom hits, fireworks burst open and Razor Blade comes out wearing an American Nightmare outfit. He lifts his arms into the mid air and fist pumps into the fake air.

JC: And here comes Razor Blade, back on Warfare, and looking fired up.

BG: Fired up doesn’t win you matches, Jack. The heart on your sleeve is just a bigger target to aim for.

JC: You heard him earlier this week, he’s looking forward to mixing it up with all three of his opponents, and he’s not backing down from anyone.

BG: That’s great. But in a match like this, being everyone’s friend usually means you leave empty-handed.

On his way down the ramp, he notices a kid wearing a black shirt and takes the American Nightmare belt off his waist, handing it to the XWF fan. Razor climbs the steps and hops onto the turnbuckle, raising both arms as more fireworks burst. He steps inside the ring, climbs the top rope to taunt some more, then gets down and removes the American Nightmare jacket, eyes locked toward Tatiana.

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

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

"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?

Can I trust you without failing you?

Gonna tell you what the secret is...

You're number one on my DEATHLIST."

The lights cut to black. Not dramatic—funereal. The crowd’s noise dies without being asked.

Then the static comes: soft at first, like whispers caught in candlelight, then growing louder, deeper—until it crackles into the opening pulse of “Bitches Brew” by †††.

A long, low beat drops. Thick. Diseased. Measured like a heartbeat that’s been slowed by something cruel.

The entrance screen flickers not with pyro—but with a sigil. A glowing ring of violet flame surrounding a single word: “ADVOCATE.”

Then she arrives.

Emilia Glazkov steps into the spotlight, veiled in shadows and dressed like prophecy:

Her cloak billows behind her like torn cathedral drapery, sheer and trailing, carved down the middle to reveal black vinyl beneath.

Her shoulderplates catch the red light, reflecting it in shattered, molten splinters. They look too heavy for most, but she wears them like wings.

Her wide-brimmed hat floats above her like a halo of midnight—its ring of glowing spokes etched with runes that rotate with each step.

Her eyes? Smeared black. Her mouth? Still. Her presence? Sacrament.

She walks without rushing. Not with confidence—with inevitability. Every motion says: you are not watching me enter. You are watching me arrive.

She reaches the foot of the ramp.

Stops.

Raises both arms—not to the crowd, but to the ceiling, the lights, the unseen.
She tilts her head back, whispers something, and flicks her fingers as if casting it away.

JC: And here’s the wild card, Brody. Emilia Glazkov, the Advocate of the Black Rainbow.

BG: Wild card? No, Jackie, she’s the loaded gun in this thing. She’s here to “correct” Dickie Watson, burn Tatiana’s legacy, and chew up Razor just for showing up.

JC: You make her sound like a horror movie villain.

BG: That’s because she is, Jack. And she’s walking into this like the match is already hers.

Then she climbs the stairs.

Her boots thud—leather and steel echoing like a funeral drum. The camera closes in on her legs as the cloak parts: fishnet-tight skin, ritual ink glinting along her thigh.
On her left boot, stitched into the leather just above the knee: a crimson rune, pulsing faintly like a warning.

She enters the ring. No theatrics. No spinning. No posing. She moves to the second rope, front and center, and climbs with ease. Then she spreads her arms wide. Head lifted. Eyes closed. Mouth slightly open—like she’s listening for an answer only the dead can give.

The hat’s runes flare once—then burn out, their embers trailing off like stars bleeding into night.

Her cloak flutters down her back. Her chest is bare of armor, only pale skin and painted glyphs across her sternum, right beneath the embroidered word: ADVOCATE.

For a moment, she holds the ring in silence. Then drops from the ropes.

Her boots hit the canvas like judgment.
The cloak slips from her shoulders, caught by a gust no one else feels.
She is revealed beneath: black corset top, exposed stomach, mesh-paneled legs, gauntleted hands with black claws twitching like they miss the altar.

She walks to her corner. Turns. Waits.

Not to be introduced.

Not to be admired.
To be obeyed.

JC: Alright folks, four wrestlers, fifteen minutes, and one golden opportunity. The winner here goes on to challenge Sarah Wolf or Aidan Collins for the Television Championship.

BG: And if you’ve been paying attention this week, Jackie, the talking has been just as heavy as the action’s about to be.

JC: No kidding. Razor Blade making it clear he’s back on Warfare to prove he belongs in the TV Title picture, even giving Emilia Glazkov a little nod of respect in the lead-up.

BG: Yeah, but nod or not, Emilia’s been laser-focused on Dickie Watson. Her promos practically painted him as unfinished business she needs to “correct.”

JC: Meanwhile Dickie… well, he made it clear he doesn’t buy into Emilia’s mystique, doesn’t respect Razor’s “American Nightmare” branding, and sees Tatiana Jolee as the veteran technician who needs to be shut down before she can control the pace.

BG: Which shouldn’t be hard tonight, because based on what we’ve seen from Tatiana lately…

JC: Brody-

BG: I’m just saying, she hasn’t been doing herself any favors. No promo this week, no real fire. If she pulls this off, I’ll be shocked.

Tatiana Jolee
- vs -
Razor
- vs -
Emilia Glazkov
- vs -
Dickie Watson
#1 Contender to TV Title
15 Minute Time Limit

DING! DING! DING!

15:00
14:59
14:58

All four competitors surge toward the center of the ring in an instant collision. Dickie Watson meets Emilia Glazkov with a forearm smash that snaps her head to the side, and she answers with a sharp knee strike to his ribs. Razor Blade leaps in from the side with a flying forearm aimed for Emilia, but she sidesteps clean and shoves him toward Tatiana Jolee…

Who gets flattened by Razor’s momentum and sent sprawling to the canvas!

JC: And we’re starting at full speed here, Brody! This is a number one contender match with a fifteen-minute time limit, and no one is wasting a second.

BG: Yeah, especially not Watson or Glazkov. Look at the way they’re already throwing for the fences.

Emilia lashes a backfist across Dickie’s jaw, pivots, and drives a sliding forearm into Razor’s midsection. She pulls him up by the head and plants him with a crisp kneeling snap DDT.

Tatiana tries to recover, pulling herself up on the ropes but Dickie’s already on her, lighting up her chest with open-handed chops before whipping her hard into the far corner.

CRACK! A dropkick to the base of the skull sends Tatiana slumping forward into the turnbuckles.

BG: Tatiana looks like she’s in over her head already, Jackie. No warm-up period here.

JC: You can’t give her space either—Dickie Watson knows it.

Dickie hooks her from behind and launches a tiger suplex, folding Tatiana up on her shoulders. He bridges

ONE!!

TWO

Razor dives in to break it up with a double axe handle to Dickie’s spine!

The crowd pops for the save, and Razor feeds off it, yanking Dickie up and sending him into the ropes. On the rebound, Razor catches him with a snap powerslam, hooks the leg—

ONE!!

TWO

Emilia slides in and stomps Razor across the back of the head to cut him off.

JC: That’s the problem with a fatal fourway—you can hit something picture perfect and it still won’t matter if the third or fourth person is there to break it up.

BG: Yeah, and Emilia’s not about to let this turn into Razor’s highlight reel.

Emilia pulls Razor to his feet and drills him with a spinning back elbow that staggers him against the ropes. She follows with a running knee lift, then whips him across the ring

But Razor reverses and pops her up into the air! She lands on her feet, spins, and thwack… a double wrist-clutch knee strike to Razor’s chest drops him flat!

Tatiana staggers back into view, holding her neck. Emilia sees her, moves in, and hooks a bridging Fujiwara armbar! Tatiana screams, scrambling toward the ropes, but there’s no break in a fourway.

Dickie boots Emilia in the ribs to break the hold, then yanks her up for a Michinoku Driver, planting her hard in the center of the ring. He covers…

ONE!!

TWO-

Tatiana drags him off and tries to roll him up with a schoolboy!

ONE!!

TWO-

Dickie kicks out hard, sending Tatiana tumbling through the ropes to the floor.

JC: Tatiana trying to steal it there, but she’s not going to catch Watson sleeping that easily.

BG: She should probably just stay out there for a while, Jack. Save herself the embarrassment.

Inside, Dickie squares up with Emilia again. They trade forearms, each strike sharper and louder than the last, the crowd reacting to every hit. Emilia ducks one and catches Dickie with a float-over neckbreaker.

She rolls into a quick standing moonsault double knees across his ribs and hooks the leg

ONE!!

TWO

TH-

Razor crashes in with a moonsault of his own onto both of them! The crowd roars, Razor firing up and pointing out to the fans.

He whips Emilia to the corner, follows with a running bulldog, then pops to the second rope and nails a diving knee drop to Dickie’s head as he’s trying to get up.

JC: Razor Blade with a rare string of offense here, really feeding off this Sturgis crowd!

BG: Yeah, but let’s see how long it lasts before somebody snuffs it out.

Razor pulls Dickie up and hooks for the Blade Rose…

But Emilia yanks him backward by the waist and spikes him with a snap uranage! She transitions immediately into a mounted elbow barrage, hammering away until Dickie drags her off by the ankle.

Dickie shoves Emilia back into the ropes and leaps… hurricanrana! He whips her across the mat, then kips up into a dropkick that sends her rolling to the apron.

Tatiana slides back in, catching Dickie from behind with a reverse atomic drop, then plants him with a DDT. She covers

ONE!!

TWO-

Dickie powers out.

8:12
8:11
8:10

JC: We’re just over the halfway mark and the pace hasn’t slowed a bit.

BG: No, but you can see who’s wearing it. Tatiana looks winded, Razor’s already on defense most of the time, and Emilia and Dickie are still sharp.

Tatiana tries to keep pressure on Dickie with a teardrop suplex, but he lands on his feet behind her and blasts her in the back of the head with a corkscrew roundhouse kick.

Razor rushes in, but Dickie catches him with a boot to the gut and plants him with a double knee gutbuster.

Emilia slides back in and blindsides Dickie with the Hollow Kiss… forehead to sternum headbutt into a spinning back elbow! Dickie collapses to a knee, and Emilia hooks him for the Pale Communion!

But Razor yanks her out of position and throws her through the ropes to the floor!

JC: Razor just saved Dickie Watson, maybe without meaning to.

BG: Or maybe he wants to be the one to beat him. Pride’s a funny thing in matches like this.

Razor covers Dickie

ONE!!

TWO

Dickie kicks out at two and a half.

Razor slaps the mat in frustration, pulls Dickie up, and whips him to the corner. He charges but Dickie slips out through the ropes, springboards back in. Springboard tornado DDT plants Razor on his head!

The crowd gasps, Dickie covering

ONE!!

TWO

THR-

Tatiana dives in at the last second to break it up!

Tatiana grabs Dickie by the hair and slams him face-first into the mat. She mounts him, raining down measured punches to the head before shifting into a crossface. Dickie grits his teeth, trying to roll her off, but she wrenches back hard.

JC: That’s the veteran in Tatiana Jolee—slowing things down, making Watson carry her weight while cranking that neck.

BG: It’s about the only way she’s going to keep him down.

Before Dickie can power free, Emilia slides in and stomps Tatiana in the back of the head to break the hold. She hauls Tatiana up, hooks the arm, and spikes her with a crisp snap suplex. Rolling through, Emilia floats over into a kneebar, twisting hard.

Tatiana screams, clawing toward the ropes.

Razor scrambles in and punts Emilia in the ribs, forcing her to release. He pulls her up, whips her to the ropes but Emilia ducks the clothesline and rebounds, only for Razor to catch her mid-run with the Beautiful Disaster kick! The crowd pops, Razor covering!

ONE!!

TWO!!

Dickie drags him off by the ankle.

BG: Razor almost stole that one!

JC: But “almost” doesn’t get you a shot at the Television Championship, Brody.

Dickie boots Razor in the midsection and plants him with the Millennial Fallout bridging German suplex!

ONE!!

TWO!!

Emilia dives to break it up!

She immediately pulls Dickie up, catching him under the chin with a stiff forearm before hoisting him up… running bicycle knee, the Moonmilk Kiss! Dickie crashes to the mat, Emilia covering:

ONE!!

TWO!!

THRE-NO!

Tatiana barrels into them both to break the count!

All four are down for a moment, the crowd buzzing.

3:44
3:43
3:42

Tatiana gets to her knees first, grabbing Emilia in a side headlock and dragging her toward the ropes. She uses the middle strand for a rope-assisted bulldog, planting Emilia face-first into the mat.

Razor charges Tatiana, but she sidesteps and sends him crashing shoulder-first into the ring post. She rolls him up from behind-

ONE!!

TWO!!

Razor kicks out!

JC: Tatiana’s not known for flash, but she’s making every pin attempt count.

BG: She just hasn’t hit anything big enough to keep someone down yet.

Tatiana turns around and walks right into a corkscrew plancha from Dickie that sends both of them tumbling.

Dickie rolls her back in, climbs the turnbuckles, and nails the Echelon 360 corkscrew moonsault!

ONE!!

TWO!!

Tatiana kicks out at the last second!

1:12
1:11
1:10

Dickie shakes his head, pulls her up, and hooks for Dickie’s Revenge but Razor yanks him away and plants him with the Blade Rose! Razor covers!

ONE!!

TWO!!

NO!!

Emilia breaks it up with a sliding forearm to the back of Razor’s head!

She shoves Razor out under the bottom rope, turns and eats a superkick from Dickie!

Emilia spills to the floor.

Dickie spins back toward Tatiana, who’s groggy but on her feet. He catches her around the waist, lifts… modified lifting reverse STO, Dickie’s Revenge!!! planting her face-first into the mat!

He rolls her over, hooks the leg! Cover!

ONE!!

TWO!!

THREE!!

DING! DING! DING!

WINNER AND NEW NUMBER ONE CONTENDER TO THE TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP: DICKIE WATSON!

JC: Dickie Watson survives the chaos and pins Tatiana Jolee to punch his ticket to a shot at the Television Champ!

BG: Survives is the key word, Jack. Emilia was all over him, Razor had his moments, and Tatiana…well, she didn’t. But Watson found the opening and put her away.

JC: He’s been here before, Brody, but something tells me this time it’s personal. Sarah Wolf, or Adian Collins, whoever is the Champion at the time has got a challenge coming their way.

JC: Next up, we find out who Dickie Watson will be challenging for that TV Title.

Aidan ‘Blizzard’ Collins or the current champion, Sarah Wolf!

BG: Oh boy, this is one I’m looking forward to here Jack. And I’ve gotta say, I don’t have the slightest clue who might win this match.

JC: Aidan Collins is a bonafide legend in the XWF. A man who dominated this business in the early two-thousands, a former Universal Champion, and the very man who brought the TV Championship to the XWF. He was just inches away from winning that 24/7 case at Leap of Faith, and tonight, he rolls into Sturgis looking to silence any doubters of his abilities.

BG: Inches away from winning that case, indeed! Blizzard knows exactly where he went wrong in that match. He held back with the Ice Pick on SEB. He told the world that he’s not going to make that same mistake tonight.

JC: Well, he won’t be able to make any mistakes out there, because love her, or hate her, he’s facing a woman in Sarah Wolf who knows exactly how to capitalize on those mistakes. Sarah Wolf walked into Leap of Faith challenging against someone who seemed to be unbeatable with the TV title in Lucy Wylde. But in the end it was Sarah Wolf proving to everyone that she might be irreplacable having just left the Black Rainbow!

The opening guitar riff the Deftones’ “Kimdracula” hits the arena speakers as multicolored lights pour over the crowd. The lights slowly rotate color in a mesmerizing, psychedelic fashion as the camera pans over the excited crowd. They stand and cheer, partially excited to be on television but also excited because they know that this music signifies that they’re about to be in the presence of an XWF Legend.

Our view shifts to the entrance walkway, which is now blocked by a large pane of glass. On the glass, a name is painted:

AIDAN COLLINS

The viewer only has a moment to take in the glass before the glass explodes towards the camera as a foot kicks through and explodes the whole display!

The crowd erupts in a huge pop. Aidan Collins is here!

Aidan Collins–wearing navy blue trunks and boots adorned with his Infinity Crown logo in gold–takes a second to pose towards the camera before he winks and walks down towards the ring. As he walks, he high fives the crowd and vocalizes outwardly that he’s about to put on a hell of a show for the audience.

Aidan walks up the ring steps and walks down the apron to the center of the ring. He points out to the crowd before folding his arms in front of himself, giving the crowd ample time to pop off photos with their cell phones.

Aidan enters the ring through the middle rope. He shakes the ring official’s hand, now ready for the contest to begin.

The bell rings, and we’re underway in this TV Championship match!

15:00
14:59
14:58

JC: You know, I wonder if the TV title was contested under the 15 minuet time limit rule when Collins brought it to the XWF all of those years ago?

BG: I don’t know, Jack, but I do know one thing, that time limit makes this the ultimate champion's advantage every time it’s defended. Sarah Wolf doesn’t have to defeat Collins here tonight, he has to defeat her!

Collins and Wolf circle one another. There’s no love lost between these two. No hand shakes. Both of them size one another up, looking to tear the other apart when - A RUNNING LARIAT FROM COLLINS BLASTS WOLF!

Blizzard pounces on her, lifting her right back up and dropping the champ with an impressive back suplex.

JC: Collins looks fired up here tonight! He’s ready to avenge that narrow defeat at Leap of Faith.

BG: If the briefcase wasn’t meant to be, then why not the title that he created nearly twenty years ago? Blizzard wants to show the world that he’s stil got it!

He picks Wolf up and whips her into the corner, following behind her and chopping her in the top of the chest. Wolf grimaces through the pain, but grabs Aidan by the head and turns him back into the corner now, scratching his face and opening up wide before biting down on Blizzard’s neck!

The ref runs in and stops her, giving Wolf a stern warning that she’ll be disqualified if that type of behaviour continues.

BG: I don’t think Sarah Wolf cares, Jack! Even if the ref DQs her, she still retains the gold!

Sarah allows her head to be yanked away from the bite, tears some of Collins’ skin in the process, she spits the bit of blood and flesh back in Collins’ face and proceeds to start kicking him in the corner, over and over.