The only way for Dickie or Kieran to win, is by pinning Centurion! But Centurion has to pin BOTH Dickie and Kieran to win! No DQ, no count outs.
A taxi pulls up backstage, and Micheal Graves steps out.
TODD: "And there he is—Michael Graves arrives at the arena—where tonight he's got a huge opportunity to become the number one contender for the Anarchy Title... but first, he's gotta go through Mr. Oz!"
BAMA T: "Easier said than done, Todd! Mr. Oz is so confident tonight, he didn't just book take this match, he stacked the deck with two more! He's not only fighting for a shot at the Anarchy Title, but the Revolution Title too. Graves' big return could fall flat, and we could be about to see the birth of Ozzy Two-Shots, baby!"
TODD: "All that confidence sounds great... but by the time he gets to well-rested and mildly-concussed Graves, it just might cost him!"
Graves heads toward the area, as the taxi driver steps out and yells:
“HEY, you gotta pay, buddy!”
Before Graves can even acknowledge him, Miss Furry and Peter Parkour come running, waving and cheering.
Miss Furry: "GRAVES! We’ve been waiting for you!"
Peter Parkour: "We didn’t expect you back so soon! ...not after all that blood..."
Graves stops, stares at them with a cold expression that feels almost dangerous as Peter trails off—lost in his trauma.
"You… little fuckin’ weirdos. You followed the wrong guy. Now get out of my way, I have laundry to fold!"
Miss Furry looks confused, but excited and still smiling.
Graves steps closer, and addressed her in a low and menacing voice.
"I don’t know your names. I don’t know your faces. And I sure as hell don’t want to know you. You’ve got two options: back the hell up, or get stomped over!"
He gestures to the taxi with a slight smirk.
"And by the way… cab’s still waiting. Someone’s gotta pay for my ride."
He turns, ignores them completely, and continues into the arena.
Miss Furry looks dumbfounded as the cabby comes for his money.
Todd: "Graves told us that the guy we’ve been watching for the last year was a fake, and after that interaction, I’m beginning to think that maybe he’s telling the truth!?"
Bama T: "Mind games, baby! Micheal Graves is cooking up something big, and the Students of Gravy just got a reality check, in that they’re no longer invited! Or hell, maybe that concussion he suffered has everything so scrambled that he's not even living in our reality!?"
Todd: "I… don’t know… maybe… wouldn't be the first time for Graves..."
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 ramp, the bottom of his white cloak dragging along the ground. Once at the ring, he'd leap onto the apron before launching himself to show how strong and agile he was to lift such mass with such ease right over the top rope and de-cloaked 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.
TODD: Mister Oz has declared himself the face of Anarachy! And he’s set out to prove it by wrestling three! THREE matches! All in a single night!
BAMA: It’s an almost unheard of feat, Toddrick! Made even more impressive by the fact that he’s carrying the X-Treme title! At least a one-fifth share of it!
TODD: …Oh my god, Bama! Charlie Nickles can’t declare the entire Corporation as freebirding the X-Treme title!
BAMA: Preston Vanderlay Esquire drafted the contract himself, Todd! And he’s a genius of fine print! It’s definitely an unconventional title structure… With a crack legal team like PVE, Jennie Nickles… and a Doctor like Doctor Holly Cambric? I think Charlie did it! I think he successfully split the belt five-ways! And that means Oz’s wins tonight count towards the Corporation’s defense count on their way to a briefcase!
TODD: Completely false.
…
Lionel prances to the ring, dressed straight out of an off-Broadway production of Hamlet, a table under his arm as he strides to the ring. He’s donned a daring red cape and has an epee sheathed by his hip!
TODD: I must admit, this week was the most fiery we’ve seen Sir Lionel Pennyfarthing!
BAMA: The L-Train was HEATED, Toddrick! He’ll take a licking, he’ll look like a fool week in and week out! But stage time is his bread and butter! So when he found out his opponent was getting three times the matches… THREE times the stage time he was? He declared he’s got a point to prove!
TODD: I don’t *love* his odds given his… abysmal record! But he actually brought a table to the ring! So, he must at least understand that this is a tables match… right?”
Sir Lionel does vocal exercises as he strides confidently down the ramp. He steps up the ring steps, and takes into the ring, doing a series of deep knee-bends in the corner as he waits for the show to commence. He gently sets the table in the corner before unsheathing his epee.
”EN GARDE!”
Free-Bird X-Treme Title match(???)
Mister Oz
- vs -
Sir Lionel Pennyfarthing Tables Match
Sir Lionel stands across from Mister Oz, hopping back-whence and for-whence (which is backwards and forwards respectively for classically trained actors) as his little prop fencing sword swips through the air with a fwip-fwip!
Fwip-fwip!
Mister Oz cranks his neck with anticipation…
TODD: This will be the first of Mister Oz’s THREE matches tonight!
BAMA: And apparently, all of them are for the X-Treme title!
TODD: Oh shuddup, Bama! There’s no way that Charlie Nickles’ free-bird X-Treme title scheme is actually valid!
BAMA: You say the same thing about Preston Vanderlay Esquire’s freebird singles record! But who between you and he is the UNDEFEATED XWF LEGEND?!? WHO currently has a bust in the Hall of Legends, blessed by the Trillionaires themselves?
TODD: *sigh*
Oz suddenly charges forward, looking to grip Lionel by the throat!
…But Lionel deftly forward rolls under the charging ox and catches him with an epee to the back!
TODD: Oh my! Point, Lionel!
The crowd, surprised at Lionel’s competence, politely and intriguedly applauds, as Lionel continues to nimbly hop from foot to foot.
Oz turns around, as if a gnat just landed on his back… Completely unaffected by Lionel’s fencing attack.
TODD: One thing to keep in mind for Oz… he’s gotta conserve his energy. Again, this is the first of three opponents. So, he’s not just looking to beat Lionel. He’s looking to beat Lionel quickly!
BAMA: I dunno, Toddrick! Everybody knows Oz is the hossiest hoss that ever tossed sauce like a boss… But something about Sir Lionel! He’s got that chutzpah! He’s got that zizzle zazzle, that ol’ razzle-dazzle! I think we might see his first victory on Anarchy tonight!
Oz charges forward again, looking to grapple Sir Lionel, trapped in the corner… Oz widens his stance so Lionel can’t sidestep and escape!
…
But Sir Lionel slides through Oz’s parted legs! Oz looks down, momentarily shocked!
Giving Lionel a window for a…
SURPRISINGLY COMPETENT DROPKICK!
TODD: HOLY SHIT!
BAMA: HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
The crowd is going nuts as Lionel rises back to his feet.
…Again, Oz is just kinda… gently pressed against the turnbuckle… He turns around, still looking like he’s running on a full tank of fuel and rage…
TODD: This is the best Sir Lionel’s looked in the ring… But it still doesn’t seem like enough to take down Oz!
BAMA: But he’s riding the crowd now, Toddrick! Sir Lionel is the consummate performer! And if he’s connecting with the crowd, maybe… just maybe… he can will his way to victory!
SIr Lionel notices the crowd cheering for him… and smugly smiles, wriggling his eyebrows, as he reaches into his pocket for a script labelled “Richard III Part 2: Electric Boogaloo”...
TODD: Oh god, don’t do a monologue… Focus on the wrestling!
Pennyfarthing grabs the table from his corner, and climbs on top of it… Lionel clears his throat as the crowd begins booing… They were excited for Lionel wrestling, not Lionel acting…
”Now!” Lionel begins, reading directly from his script. ”Is the WInter of our discontent! PART TWO! Made Glorious Summer b-”
WHAM! Oz double axe-handles Lionel in the back of the skull! Lionel flops down off the table, onto the mat below… looking dazed as the crowd fucking POPS!
TODD: Apparently, Mister Oz isn’t a fan of the theater!
BAMA: But this crowd is a fan of Mister Oz! Or at the very least, they like when he hurts people!
Lionel paws, cradling his aching back… as Oz effortlessly lifts Lionel off the mat in a military press…
PUMPHANDLE SLAM THROUGH THE TABLE!
Winne via Table: Mister Oz
TODD: OH MY GOD! What a maneuver! I think SIr Lionel is literally broken in half!
BAMA: Normally, Toddy baby, I’d chide ya for mis-using literally but… no, yeah, I think he’s broken! I’m glad Kieran King’s Kingsguard is here, cuz it’s gonna take all the king’s men and… maybe even most of his horses to put SIr Lionel back together!
Oz quickly rises, raising a fist toward the crowd as Sir Lionel lays unconscious, as broken as the table under him…. Actually, maybe more broken than the table.
TODD: A dominant match for Mister Oz!
BAMA: And a successful first X-Treme title defense for the Corporation!
TODD: Bama, I’m telling you! There’s no way the Corporation’s scheme is valid!
BAMA: But what if it is, Toddrick! What if it is and Oz scores THREE X-Treme defense in ONE NIGHT!!!
Time for a commercial break!
(While Anarchy is at commercial, the in-house fans get to see a ring entrance)
As the drums echoed down tonight, the rumble of a Jeep painted in camouflage drowns it out like the blessed rains of Africa. The Jeep continues down the ramp to ringside, where Safari Stu jumps out of the passenger seat. He high fives the gorilla driving the vehicle as a flood of wildlife also files out. Waving to the crowd, Stu gives a monkey to a young fan as a sign of appreciation. He then climbs into the ring and shoots off finger guns in the air while the monkey decides whether it'll rip the kid's face off. Such is the circle of life.
Anarchy comes back from commercial, so everyone actually gets to see THIS entrance, while Stu is just sorta already there.
The vocal screams through the stadium, dropping it into a hush. The sound of a church organ hits the system, as a choir boy or two begin their harmony. The faithful begin to clap to the beat, some raising their hands as a single white spotlight settles on the top of the ramp.
Abel Gracie steps out through the curtains, eyes bowed and hands clasped in prayer. The light seems to shoot out from him, glancing off the reflecting shoulder pads on his long black leather coat. Abel lifts his chin with an "amen" still on his lips, as a smile too big to be comfortable cuts across his face. He walks down towards the ring, raising a hand to children past and whispering blessings to them. Of course... Their parents try and pull them away from this psycho.
He takes the long way around the ring, making sure to bless fans in all four corners and our delightful commentators. Taking the steps up and gently stepping through the bottom ropes, he lets his coat fall to the floor - to reveal his scar-covered body. The lights settle on the middle of the ring now, where he drops to his knees, throws his head back and spreads his arms wide as he awaits his music's end... And the beginning of his worship service.
DING! DING! DING!!!
As soon as the bell sounds, Gracie flattens Stu with a spinning lariat that nearly decapitates the happy go lucky animal lover!
Gracie kneels in prayer over the body of Stu, and then drags Stu by the hair into the corner, pulling him into a standing position… BIG SPLASH in the corner from Gracie!
Stu staggers forward into a bear hug, which is a move Stu himself loves! Stu is struggling as Gracie turns around and then yanks Stu into a release suplex that sends Safari Stu crashing into the turnbuckles!
BAMA: “He calls that Pay the Price, Hot Todd!”
TODD: “Well Stu is definitely paying right now!”
Abel Gracie pulls the hair of Stu again just long enough to pull his head up from the mat… he then runs the laces of his own boot down across the face of Stu!
Stu is blinded and gets to his feet, walking right into a whip to the ropes… spinebuster from Abel Gracie! Gracie transitions quickly into an attempt at an ankle lock, but Stu manages to scramble to the bottom rope and grab on, getting MARTY the referee to start a five count for Gracie to break the hold!
1!
2!
3!
4!
Gracie finally relents, but immediately after releasing the leg of Safari Stu he leaps onto the neck and back of Stu, using his weight to press Stu’s windpipe down onto the rope!
MARTY’s lights start blinking red rapidly as he admonishes Gracie, who raises his hands plaintively and backs off.
MARTY’s lights go green again and Gracie is able to approach Stu. He throws a haymaker, but Stu blocks it! Stu hits a jab! And another!
TODD: “He’s Stuing up!”
BAMA: “That’s not a thing!”
Suddenly, from out of his tan safari pants, Stu pulls out a CROCODILE PUPPET!!!
Stu spins the puppet by its tail and bashes Gracie in the head with it! Gracie stumbles backward and falls in a seated position in the corner… BRONCO BUSTER FROM STU!!!
BAMA: “That’s sacreligious!”
TODD: “Did you say SACK?”
BAMA: “Dang it Todd I didn’t mean it like that you woke-ass enbie!”
TODD: “... surprised you know that word, honestly…”
Stu grabs Gracie… monkey flip!
Gracie is dizzy, and he walks right into a GORILLA PRESS!
Look out! Gracie rains down a series of sharp elbows to the face and head of Stu, and Stu loses his grip and his balance!
Gracie presses his advantage, smashing Stu with a series of open palm strikes until Stu is basically trying to just turtle up in defense.
Gracie stomps the gospel out of Stu and disrespectfully goes for a cover just of of that!
1!
2!
Stu swings a shoulder off the mat, and Gracie uses that movement to snare Stu in a chinlock!
Stu fights against the hold and works his way to a standing position, but when he tries to break loose Gracie whips him to the ropes again… CONSECRATION!!!
BAMA: “That knee hit Stu right on the button, Todd! If he was a See-N-Speak, the Cow would be sayin’ MOOOOO!”
TODD: “Gracie just kicked that crocodile puppet clear out of the ring! How rude!”
BAMA: “It’s an international object, Todd! Totally contraband!”
The knee sends Stu out of the ring and Gracie simply stands there waiting while Safari Stu tries to get himself together and back into the ring before beng counted out…
1!
2!
3!
4!
5!
6!
7!
Stu manages to get under the bottom rope to break the count, and Gracie is on him immediately with more stomps.
Gracie whips tu t the ropes again and looks for a tilt a whirl suplex, but Stu shockingly rotates all the way through and snags Gracie… FALCON ARROW! Stu is hyped up! He unbuttons the top three buttons of his safari shirt and heads to the top!
TODD: “He could be going for a frog splash here, Bama! Or a jumping bulldog!”
BAMA: “Wait Todd, someone’s coming out from under the ring!”
TODD: “Wait who… is that Jamaican Jimmy???”
Yes folks it IS Jamaican Jimmy! Jimmy gets out from under the ring and climbs the ring steps just in time to push Stu off the top rope!
”I be de only RASTAFARI in de XWF, bruddah!”
Jimmy crotch chops like crazy as Stu tries to figure out what the hell happened, and Abel Gracie has way more time than he ever needed to recover.
Gracie hits a running big boot to the back of Stu’s head as Stu leans over the ropes to argue with Jimmy!
Stu almost goes over but Gracie grabs him by the legs and pulls him back in on his feet…
GRACIOUS BAPTISM!!!
BAMA: “He ain’t gonna get up.”
Gracie nearly drives Stu’s skull through the mat with the modified choke slam, and he moves into a cover immediately!
1!
2!
3!!!
DING! DING! DING!!!
Winner by Pinfall: Abel Gracie
TODD: “What a dominating debut from Abel Gracie, Bama! But what the heck is up with Jimmy?”
BAMA: “I think that damn fool heard the word safari and thought he said rastafari! He’s a damn idgit!”
Total darkness on the stage, as the music starts, then when the "GO" is said in the track, the lights come on, and out comes the JUICER. He flexes, rips off his vest, before he makes his way down to the ring, all business. When he reaches the ring, he'll pose on the rope for a moment, before he throws his trucker hat to the fans, and makes his way into the ring, prepared for CONQUEST.
BAMA: And here comes ZA JUICA’! He had an impressive debut, winning a triple threat match without even breaking a sweat!
TODD: But tonight, the challenger before him is greater than ever….
''Wrestling has more than one... royal family.''
As soon as those words are heard, the crowd erupted as you heard the commentator's reaction as well.
TODD: And here comes the REIGNING, DEFENDING, AND UNDISPUTED STAR OF THE MONTH! RAZOR BLADE!
''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 as he knelt down, tapping the ramp with his fist, jumping up to his feet as he extended his arms out.
TODD: Razor Blade has been on a major roll recently! He hasn’t lost a match in MONTHS!
BAMA: And, he Captained his War Games team to victory in the Pre-Show! Razor Blade is no push-over anymore, that’s for sure! He’s turned into one of Anarchy’s TOP STARS!
''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 deeper into the store, high fiving members of the crowd in the front row before going over and doing the same thing on the other side of the store. Then, Razor slid into the ring and prepared himself for combat!
LEVI CARWIN
- vs -
RAZOR BLADE
X-TREME RULEZ
DING! DING! DING!
The match starts off with an electric pace! Razor Blade shoots out of his corner like a bat out of hell, charging straight into the much larger JUICA! Blade shoulder checks Carwin into the corner turnbuckle, and then Razor Blade delivers a stiff elbow to Carwin that causes blood to come flying out of his mouth! Keeping up the advantage, Razor Blade quickly drops down and begins delivering big shoulder blows to Carwin’s midsection! As Carwin heaves from the force of the blows, Razor Blade takes a step back…but then, he delivers a devastating chop to Carwin’s chest that leaves ZA JUICAH’s pecs red!
Bama: Hot damn! Razor Blade isn’t scared of this newcomer at all! He’s taking the fight right to him!
Todd: Blade is showing everyone exactly why he was chosen as November’s Star of the Month!
Blade delivers a few more chops to Carwin’s chest, and then he grabs Carwin’s neck. Blade tries to pull Carwin out of the corner for a running bulldog- but Levi Carwin pushes him off! Razor Blade lands by himself in the center of the ring, but he quickly scrambles to his feet…
But he wasn’t quick enough!
Before Razor can even react, Levi Carwin delivers a big boot right to the face!
Razor Blade is knocked flat onto the mat!
Carwin delivers a stiff stomp to Blade’s midsection before grabbing the Star of the Month by his hair and dragging him up to a standing position. Then, Carwin delivers a devastating suplex that shakes the ring!
Razor Blade clutches his back and groans in pain, but Levi Carwin is right back up! ZA JUICAH wastes no time!
Levi Carwin picks him up once more before sending him back down with a massive body slam!
Bama: Levi Carwin is just taking complete control of this match!
Todd: Razor Blade is an experienced veteran inside that ring, but Carwin’s mixture of strength and willpower looks to be just too much for him to handle!
Razor Blade crawls into the corner, pulling himself up by the ropes before trying to take a quick breather against the turnbuckle pads…
BUT LEVI CARWIN HAS OTHER IDEAS!
BIG SPLASH in the corner!
But Razor Blade doesn’t fall!
Instead, Razor Blade slowly stumbles out of the corner after the big splash, clearly dazed and confused.
When Razor turns around to find ZA JUICAH….
HE GETS RAN OVER WITH A MASSIVE LARIAT!
BLADE DOES A 360 FLIP FROM THE FORCE!
Carwin goes for the cover!
1!
2!!
3!!!
Winner by Pinfall – ‘Za Juicah’ Levi Carwin
Bama: What a dominant showing from Levi Carwin! He damn near decapitated Razor Blade with that Lariat!
Todd: In his debut match, Levi Carwin handled two XWF vets with the upmost ease! And now, he’s just crushed the hopes and dreams of one of Anarchy’s top stars! The sky is the limit for this kid if he keeps this winning streak up!
“VROOM! VROOM! VROOM!”
The crowd erupts upon hearing the sounds that will soon herald one of the brightest young stars on Anarchy, and sure enough, “Born to the Wild” cranks up a second later, prompting fans to elbow-jockey each other to get closer to the barricade where Clutch will pass by.
Normally, Clutch arrives in her beefy muscle car, but this time she surprises everyone by driving a White Claw beer truck down the ramp, running over some stage equipment and causing property damage. The big rig is adorned with Christmas lights. The crowd is eating it up!
TODD: Holy hell, what the???? One-half of the new Anarchy tag champions has just arrived in festive White Claw style!
BAMA: Where the hell did she get that truck? Did she steal it?
The big rig comes to a stop, the air brakes hiss, and the engine stops. Out pops Clutch Cassidy from the driver’s seat, her tag team title held in her hand. She whirls it over her head, helicopter style, while the fans near her cheer and exchange fist-bumps and high fives with her free hand.
Samael Dyson explodes out of the passenger seat, wearing his half of the tag team championships tucked into his pants and hanging over his crotch like a big ol’ floppy dick. Sam Dyson is decked out in jeans and a t-shirt emblazoned with the words “TITS DOWN ASS UP.”
The Anarchy tag-team champeens make their way into the ring, where Clutch performs a one-handed no-look catch of a thrown mic, cool-girl style. The crowd pops and sings the chorus of the classic rock song: “BORN.. BORN TO BE WILD!”
The music then cuts out, and Dyson seemingly happily watches her as she paces back and forth in front of him, clad in a pair of skin-tight, form-fitting fitting stone-washed ripped jeans with sparkling Christmas theme lights on the pockets, a humorous Santa Claws shirt, and her signature black jacket with the racing patches and cool stuff on it.
CLUTCH: Aight, y’all. Before I say a dayum thing, lemme take a moment right dayum now to pay mah respects to this man ri’chur.
She turns and points to Dyson. The crowd engulfs him with boos.
Sam’s earlier contentment is broken, and his lip twists up into a snarl at the crowd’s reaction.
She marches up to him and puts him in a playful headlock, bringing his face next to her buxom bewbs.
CLUTCH: This crazy sumbitch ri’chur saw something in me when I issued that open tag parner request. He didn’t hafta offer himself to it but he did and dare I say he carried my ass at Wargames?
TODD: Oh, he definitely saw something in her, alright. Or rather on her.
BAMA: He saw that ass and rack she’s working with. I don’t blame him a bit for taking her up on it.
CLUTCH: Yeah, he says and does shit that ain’t popular, but he earned his dayum keep at Wargames. Come on, y’all, give some love for him just this once.
The crowd still boos, but it’s a little less booing. She releases him from the playful headlock and bows to him in old school classic Wayne’s World “we’re not worthy” gestures. Sam goes to the edge of the ring and demands his own mic, then, having received it, returns to the center of the ring, still shooting lusty looks at Clutch before turning his attention outwards.
SAMAEL: Dear local hometown: SUCK MY PRODIGIOUS HOG!
He flashes the crowd a double middle finger, which of course, only serves to ramp up the boos again.
SAMAEL: The only thing I give a fuck about are Kris, Clutch, and all the titles we possess that means we OWN ANARCHY. The A-show, bitches!
Sam reaches into his pocket and pulls out….Clutch’s dirty panties??!! Clutch chuckles and puts her hand over her face as Sam holds the panties aloft.
SAMAEL: Who ever would have guessed that from these humble soiled panties, a TAG TEAM LEGACY would be born. An unstoppable unit, an immovable force!
Ohhhhh….ohhhhhh! But I hear the smears backstage. The accusations! The people saying that the Anarchy Tag Team Championships are somehow the LESSER brand of tag team championship. And to those people I say: what the fuck are you smoking and GIMME SOME! Because you people are completely out of touch with reality. I mean, have you seen the state of those OTHER tag team championships? The ones that were defended every SIX MONTHS (if we’re lucky) by the complete PAPER CHAMPIONS that saw fit to rest on their laurels and spend all their time bickering with each other like some over-the-hill gay couple working through a lifetime of bitterness and regret! The ones that were just won by the same BORING TURBODOUCHE who was already holding them and doing fuck all with them since JUNE until he was forced to defend them in fucking DECEMBER!
Sam shoots a look at Clutch as if to say “can you believe that shit?!” before returning to the mic.
SAMAEL: Naaaahhhhh, fam! Even my mother, who objectively sucked ass, and her scissor sister Dolly Waters, defended those tag team championships WAY MORE than Bryce and King!
BORING! DULL! WEAK! PATHETIC!
Sam points at himself and Clutch, his mania only growing in scope.
SAMAEL: Not us! We’re not going to bring you the same watered-down SHIT REIGN that SEB has been bringing you for the last half a year. We’re gonna make this shit MATTER. We’re gonna DEFEND THIS SHIT! And our first defense is going to be on ANARCHY NUMBER ONE OF 2026! Clutch, take it away HOTPANTS!
Sam points at Clutch eagerly, passing her the proverbial torch.
CLUTCH: Yer gosh damn right, Sam. We ain’t gonna be lazy asses with these here titles. We’re gonna continue the tradition that XXXVI and the Director started by being proactive. We also ain’t gonna be boring sticks in the mud like the Exiles. Starting ri’chur, ri’now. WE’RE CELEBRATIN’ BABY!
She lets out a Tennessee yelp and gestures to the White Claw beer truck. Several of Sam’s Insignifigants emerge carrying a huge hose connected to the big rig’s trailer. Clutch grabs the head of the hose, drags it to the center of the ring, and, with help from Sam, who conveniently positions himself very closely behind her, flicks the hose on. A gigantic geyser of White Claw beverage sprays into the cheering masses. They turn to each direction of the fans, drenching them, the commentating crew, and even themselves in the beverage of Clutch’s obsession.
Eventually Clutch hands the hose over to Sam, who naturally proceeds to position the hose over his crotch and rub it saliciously as he continues to spray the audience. Clutch, soaked with White Claw, climbs to the top turnbuckle and holds her half of the tag titles high, as the shot fades out to a commercial.
The feed from Anarchy blares from the TV in Scoops McGee’s locker room, who regards it with a scowl. He continues taping up his wrists, anxiously pacing about in his locker room as he does so. Before he could finish, however, the door barges open as he swivels about.
Tommy Gunn leads the way instead, a deep scowl on his face. Behind him walks in about a half-dozen men, each of them all swearing the same armored uniform.
“The Hell’s this bullshit?” Scoops scoffs.
Tommy takes a deep breath, straightening himself before speaking. “The King sends his regards.”
“Well, ain’t that just dandy,” Scoops rolled his eyes as he finished taping his wrists. “I’m guessing there’s more to this than that?”
Tommy’s gaze darkened as he nodded to one of the men, who quickly closed the door behind him.
“The King would also like to ask about your outstanding union payments,” Tommy huffed. “And if you don’t comply, then we’ll need to take them… by force.”
“Yeah?” Scoops chuckled, before holding up his fists. “I got two moneymakers for you slimy fucks right here!”
Scoops lunges forward right at Tommy, peppering him with hard lefts and rights! Tommy responds with his own strikes, and in unison, the Kingsguard descends onto Scoops like a pack of vultures!
BAMA: It’s chaos back there, baby! Scoops McGee is getting mauled like a sack of meat!
TODD: Scoops has his match up next!
BAMA: He might not be able to make it at this rate!
Scoops runs off of sheer instinct, ramming himself off to the side to forcibly jam two men into the unforgiving steel of the lockers, but it isn’t enough. The other men quickly beat him down, stomping him in unison. Tommy nods to the men, and they open one of the locker doors…
TODD: Don’t do it-!
WHAM!
THE METAL LOCKER DOOR JUST SLAMMED SHUT INTO SCOOPS’ SKULL!
BAMA: Can you say ‘C-T-E’ or what, baby?
TODD: Scoops has been taking his fair share of concussions these past few weeks, but this might be the nastiest one yet, courtesy of Kieran King! He’s trying to take out the number one contender to the Universal title!
BAMA: I think that's the point, Todd! Scoops hasn't taken the offer to become that yet, and Kieran would claim that HE is the number one contender! At this rate, Scoops might not be in any shape to take the title shot! He damn sure isn’t in any shape to compete tonight!
Tommy and the Kingsguard take a moment to admire their work as blood oozes out of Scoops’ skull, before they proceed to make their way out of the locker room.
Mr. Oz hits the stage as soon as his music hits! The crowd goes ballistics as the big man steps through the curtain, already having won a battle earlier tonight. A bunch of fans in the front row begin going crazy, screaming that ‘WE BELIEVE!’ as Mr. Oz strides confidently down to the ring.
The sythinzied beat of Shake it Off By Taylor Swift begins to play over the public address system, as the opening lyrics soon begin, as the fans boo and flashes going off, people are waiting for the arrival of the Fitness Queen herself.
I stay out too late
Got nothing in my brain
That's what people say, mm-mm
That's what people say, mm-mm
As a spotlight is on the entrance ramp and the lights dim, first stepping out is none other than the legendary Snarktopus Nessa Wall, who smiles brightly before trash talking the fans as she smiles, before ordering a couple of stage hands to come out they each have a mirror in hand they face the entrance ramp, as soon out from the back steps La Marvillosa herself Marisol Vilaro.
I go on too many dates
But I can't make 'em stay
At least that's what people say, mm-mm
That's what people say, mm-mm
Marisol stops to admire herself in each mirror posing and showing off, what her hard work has given her and mouthing about how she’s the inspiration these out-of-shape people need. After a few moments of posing she brushes right past, giving her manager/mentor a hug before they head off with Nessa leading the way taking the time to give the fans at ringside a hard time for even trying to touch them.
But I keep cruisin'
Can't stop, won't stop movin'
It's like I got this music in my mind
Sayin' it's gonna be alright
Marisol herself takes the time to pose some more showing off her muscle, and trying to sell them on the VilaroFit mission, and how they need it to improve themselves, As the devious duo soon make their way toward the ring side area Nessa soon goes up the ring steps and takes the time to bark orders at the referee, showing him exactly how lower the ropes for herself, and her client, after being lectured by the Ambitchous one, the referee complies doing it exactly as Nessa demanded enters the ring and motions for Marisol to go up the steps, as she climbs up the steps she takes each moment to keep shilling her products, which doesn’t endear her to the fans, as she soon enters the ring under the rope and soon she rudely brushes past the referee as Nessa presents her to the booing fans as she raises her arms high in the air soaking in the boos, and catcalls.
'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play
And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate
Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
I shake it off, I shake it off (hoo-hoo-hoo)
Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break
And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake
Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
I shake it off, I shake it off (hoo-hoo-hoo)
Marisol then does a series of poses once again before turning around and gracing the other side of the area raising her arms high in the air and then doing a similar series of poses showing off her physique and how in shape she is. While Nessa claps her client before they head into their corner, and Nessa is getting Marisol psyched and going over the game plan as they wait for the opponent to enter.
The Bell rings!
MARISOL VILARÓ
- vs -
MISTER OZ Meathooks of Horror Match
Hanging from the rafters is a large, rusty meathook.
The only way to win is to… immobilize your opponent.
[amatch]HIGHLIGHT REEL
TODD: Ladies and gentlemen, hanging ominously from the rafters above the ring… the meathooks. The only way to win tonight is to immobilize your opponent. No pinfalls. No submissions. Just total control.
Bama: Todd, this ain’t about pain tolerance. This is about thinkin’. And I promise you—Mister Oz picked this match for a reason.
Marisol Vilaró explodes out of the corner, snapping off a Headlock Takedown that snaps the larger Oz off his feet!
TODD: Wow! Vilaró taking advantage of the fact that she’s fresh and coming at Oz like a bullet train!
BAMA: Mari never skips leg day and she never skips an opportunity to take an early advantage!
Before Oz can even think about trying to scramble back to a vertical base, Mari secures control of his wrist and converts into a Spinning Wrist Lock, wrenching Oz down before he can plant his base!
TODD: I don’t know if Vilaró went into this match planning on turning into VilaroFit content, but right now Marisol is stretching Mister Oz like he’s one of her system’s clients!
Vilaró aims a series of right-handed blows to Oz’s solarplexus…
But he HOWLS in her face, intimidating her temporarily still!
TODD: Marisol came out of the gate red hot! But now it looks Oz is the one getting heated!
BAMA: You can’t keep a monster like Oz grounded for long!
Oz charges forward, looking for a clothesline…
…But Mari bridges backward, briefly crabwalking as Oz skirts by, rotating back onto her feet!
TODD: In-CREDIBLE flexibility and agility on display here by the CEO of VilaroFit!
BAMA: And for just five easy payments of $19.95, you too can get started on your VilaroFit journey!
TODD: Y’know, Bama, Oz *and* Mari are both successful business people. You could also hawk Oz’s business while you’re at it.
BAMA: Sure. How did Oz make his billions again?
TODD: …Well…
…
TODD: …uh…
…
TODD: …He made Chicago great again?
Oz bounces off the ropes, looking to SHOULDER BLOCK Mari!
…But Mari manages to catch Oz with a boot to the gut, doubling Oz over!
She quickly hooks in a front facelock!
TODD: Wow! Mari is lacking no confidence, she’s going to suplex Mister Oz! I can’t help but point out that feat might be too herculean even for M-
WHAM! Mari manages to scoop Oz up and over! Vertical suplex! Mari takes a momentary breather on the mat… BEFORE KIPPING BACK UP TO HER FEET!
TODD: Holy COW!
BAMA: Never ever doubt the Queen of VilaroFit can do something!
Mari flexes over the fallen Mister Oz… before punctuating the sequence with an Elbow Drop to the back of Mister Oz’s head!
TODD: Absolutely incredible! This might be the best we’ve ever seen Mari in the ring!
Mari plants her hands on Oz’s back and starts doing pushups directly onto Oz…
…But she glances up as she does… At the meathooks dangling above the ring… And her exercise slows.
BAMA: It’s dawning on Mari now… It took almost everything in the tank to get Oz up in the air… She’s gonna have to do that in such a way as to put him on that meathook if she wants to get the win tonight!
Mari again tries to put Oz back onto the mat with an axe-handle to the back of the skull! Followed by kicks to the lower leg!
TODD: Mari knows Oz is most dangerous when he’s up on his feet!
BAMA: But Oz is also almost impossible to bring down! And might be LITERALLY impossible to keep down!
Oz is on one knee now… Mari braces herself! She leaps through the air…
DROPKICK!
TODD: Beautifully acrobatic aerodynamics on display by the Queen of VIlaroFit!
BAMA: Beautiful… but ineffective!
Indeed, Mari’s boots hit Oz’s chest… but Oz just tanks through it, rising up to his feet! Mari sees her opponent is upright and tries to shove her way back to a vertical base to keep peppering in str-
WHAM! Oz surges forward! SPEAR! Oz folds Marisol like a goddamn accordion!
TODD: Oh my GOD! What a move by Mister Oz!
BAMA: And just like that, Mari’s in trouble! We could be looking at the second chapter of the Oz Revolution!
:
Oz drags Marisol toward the center of the rign, eyes lifting to the hooks. Her legs are jelly under her, looking very vulnerable!
TODD: Mari’s got a figure something out here, or Oz is going to impale her on that meathook!
BAMA: She’ll lose the match! And get a scar on her perfect body! That body’s her whole business, Toddrick!
Oz hoists Mari into the air with a Delayed Vertical Suplex, squatting under her weight—slow, deliberate, terrifying.
The chain dangles, swinging ominously in the air, as Oz deliberately inches, looking to bring Mari down onto it…
…
TODD: Oh God, I can’t look…
…
Oz deftly maneuvers Mari onto the hanging chain…
When suddenly,, Marisol lashes out with an Eye Rake! Oz covers his face!
TODD: Mari survives!
BAMA: But for how much longer, Toddrick!
Oz hoists Mari into the air, in a bear hug, looking to bring her up on the meathook…
TODD: Once more, Oz seems determined to hang Mari on that meathook!
BAMA: I mean, he picked the match, Toddy baby! He specifically called for a Meathooks of Horror match! It only makes sense he’s itching to make use of dem meathooks!
Mari’s hands reach to claw at Oz’s face, but Oz reels his head back, laser-focused on squeezing the life out of his opponent…
Mari’s lungs stiffen as her face contorts in agony…
TODD: Mari might end up “immobilized” before Oz even puts her on the meathook!
BAMA: Thought that doesn’t mean Oz won’t put her up there anyway! Solomon may be the recent X-Treme champ they call ‘Psycho’, but Oz is actually demented!
TODD: He’s not the X-Treme champ, Bama!
Oz lifts Mari higher in his bear hug, inching her closer to the meathook…
…
When suddenly, Mari’s hands shoot up!
TODD: Mari finds her second wind! All that cardio is paying off!
BAMA: Mari’s got the heart of a champion and the lung capacity of an adult dolphin!
Before Oz can stop her, Mari grasps the meathook from above her!
CRACK!
She smashes it over Oz’s skull! The meathook snaps clean off its chain! Oz drops face-first to the mat as Mari exhaustedly backs to the corner
TODD: She broke it! Mari broke the hook! That’s one way to make sure you don’t get impaled in the middle of the ring!
BAMA: And more than that, Toddrick! She might have just immobilized Oz by nailing him over the head with that meathook! Oz told Mari to hit the fuck out of him if she wanted the win! And I think she just did!
Mari finds the wherewithal to bark at the official to declare her the winner for immob-
…Before she can finish her sentence… Oz is already stirring, slowly rising back to his feet…
TODD: …Oh… my… God…
BAMA: That’s like if Friday the 13th had a baby with Halloween… Mari thought the credits were rolling but the Monster from her nightmares just came back to Drag her to HELL!
Marisol’s Control:
TODD: Mari is trying to immobilize Oz by breaking him! She’s got eh Marvelous Stretch locked in!
Indeed, Mari cinches in the Marvelous Stretch, bowing Oz’s spine, trying to sap the power from his core.
Oz’s body bends in her arms, as he squints…
He hooks an arm under hers, looking to hip toss her…
…But at the last possible moment, Mari drags her nails across his eyes!
As Oz grips his aching face, slowly rising to his feet, Mari grabs the disconnected meathook off the mat!
TODD: Oh my! That meathook very nearly won the match for Mari before! And it looks like she thinks a second strike is going to secure the win in her favor!
Oz slowly turns around…
Mari swings for the fences!
…
But Oz ducks! Mari’s meathook sails high to low, before digging into the mat!
Mari tries to pull it out but it’s caught!
She spins around…
OZ DELIVERS A DOUBLE-A SPINEBUSTER SLAM!
TODD: Oh no! Things look bad for Marisol!
BAMA: But how’s Oz gonna “immobilize” Mari, Todd! She broke the meathook!
Oz reaches up to the now meathook-less chain… And in a show of strength, YANKS it off the rafter…
Mari cradles her neck, very slowly rising…
As Oz threads the chain through the ropes..
TODD: What the hell is this maniac up to, Bama?
BAMA: Not a goddamn cl-... Wait! Oh my God!
As Mari slowly rises, Oz secures Mari in a wristlock!
And wraps the chain he’s threaded around both of Marisol’s wrists, cinching it tight!
TODD: What is he doing!?!
BAMA: I know exactly what he’s doing! He’s daggon HOG-TIEING MARI!
Before Mari can even realize she’s chained, Oz uses his strength to hoist her backward into a seated position against the turnbuckle, the chain pulling her arms outward and locking her torso upright in the corner!
Marisol thrashes, desperately trying to break free. But her arms are pinned wide, back pressed to steel, legs trapped beneath Oz’s boot.
She cannot move.
TODD: She’s immobilized! Her arms! Her back! Her legs! She can’t go anywhere!
BAMA: IN-genie-YUS! Mari thought she had Oz over a barrel when she broke his meathook! But leave it to the Oz-man to know his stip so well as to have a backup plan!
The referee checks. No escape.
Bell rings.
Winner and new #1 Contender to the XWF Revolution Title: Mister Oz
TODD: Incredible showing by Mister Oz! Marisol looked her absolute best, but Oz brilliantly picked a stipulation perfectly suited to his style! Mari dug deep to counter-act it, but Oz’s Plan B proved too much!
BAMA: And now he’s the #1 contender to XXXVI’s Revolution Title!
TODD: Correct!
BAMA: And that’s the Corporation second X-Treme title defense tonight!
TODD: Ye-...NO!
The shot cuts to backstage where we see a confident looking Kristoffer Arroyo, Anarchy championship slung over his shoulder, walking towards the ring. But, no sooner do we see our brand new champ than does he come face to face with a figure rounding the corner before him.
Kieran King.
Behind him, members of The Kingsguard ready themselves to protect their king.
The fans sense the same tension, popping huge with expectation from the arena, as these two have not encountered each other since their implosion at War Games. Both men eye each other warily for a moment. But it’s Kristoffer who holds up a beseeching hand and starts to speak.
“Hold on, hold on! I know! I know.” He begins, licking his lips.” Let me speak my peace and then you can say whatever it is you want to say.”
King looks annoyed, but crosses his arms in front of him and seems to acquiesce.
”Things went south for us at War Games. Badly. And while I know you probably couldn’t force yourself to give a shit about my opinion, I feel the need to express it anyway”. Kris pauses, driving up the tension a bit.” I don’t blame you. For any of it. I’m smart enough to see that we were both used and abused by the powers that be. What happened between us wasn’t either of our faults. The fact of the matter is, we were set up to fail. There was no way we were walking out of War Games the victors with your Universal Championship on the line.”
”Now I’m not angling for an alliance here. I know you don’t want that. What I am calling for, is a detente. A respectful parting of ways.” Kris shrugs.” What do you think?”
Kieran sniggers. It then drifts into a full blown laugh. ”You act like I didn't plan for this. Like I'm not walking to Snow Pain, Snow Gain to get MY title back. You're welcome for yours, by the way. Besides, we both know what men like you are willing to do when the chips are down.”
Kris considers Kieran cooly. ”What men “like me” are willing to do? You mean like try to win War Games for my team? Look Kieran, if you were so prepared to win back your title after the fact then why pull me off of Dickie? Why stop us from winning?”
”Us? Or you? Because if it was ‘us’… the guy who I helped win a title, wouldn't have covered Dickie to begin with.”
”Oh, it was most assuredly US, Kieran. Kris begins, his ire rising. You know as well as I do how capable Dickie is and I saw an opportunity to put him away for OUR team. Would you have lost your title? Yes! But OUR team would have won out in the end! I…”Kris, looking flustered, shakes his head and reels it back in.” I sense this is going nowhere.”
”It was never going anywhere to begin with.” Kieran agrees. ”You're asking for a truce, but I'm not exactly asking my guys behind me to jump you any time soon.” He gestures to the Kingsguard behind him. ”All this ever was, was a business relationship. Tonight, I get my hands on Dickie. And at Snow Pain, Snow Gain, I get my hands on my title. You're already not involved. But… I would be remiss if I didn't mention that I am undefeated on Anarchy…”
Kieran's eyes drift to the Anarchy Championship. Kris follows them accordingly.
Kieran grins. ”Fun fact, eh?” He pats the title and half brushes past Kris, his heavies getting set to follow.
Suddenly, King stops in line with the champion. His eyes flick down to the title again and then back up to Kris. ”Make sure to pay your union fees.”
Kieran winks.
He sets off, trailed by his armada of large, angry bodies and leaving Kristoffer Arroyo behind. Kristoffer watches his go for a bit before scowling and muttering ”Civility is dead.” Kris continues on until he reaches the entrances to the arena bathroom. Before long, a flushing sound is heard from within, and out pops Samael Dyson trailing a piece of toilet paper on his shoe, who for sure didn’t wash his hands.
”Hey, did you run into King yet? Did he apologize for fucking you over at War Games?!’
”No. And you have a piece of shitter paper on your shoe.”
”I…wha?” Sam looks down at his shoe and sees the toilet paper. Sputtering to himself, he tears it off before speaking to Kris again. ”GOD DAMN IT! He didn’t even apologize?! That smug cunt! Let’s go make him lick our assholes!”
”And fight our way through the entire Kingsguard to get to him? We need to be reasonable…”
”No! What we need to do is spit in his mouth and make him call us daddy!”
”Very well. If that’s what you’d like to do. I’m on way to the ring.”
Kris keeps walking and Sam sneers, look back at the direction King walked off in, and then catches up with Kris. ”You have a serious NO FUN problem, you know that?”
The shot cuts out and abruptly returns to arena side, just as Kris’ theme music hits!
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. He saunters down to the ring, taking his time and seeming to savor the moment before suddenly exploding into a slide into the ring. He then steps through the ropes onto the ring apron, where he wraps his legs around the middle rope and hangs himself upside down with his arms outstretched like an inverted cross. He smiles for the camera, revealing long sharpened incisors, before sitting up and rolling up and over the top rope and to the canvas. He then proceeds to gesture to Samael, who had been following just behind the entire time. Samael rolls into the ring after mean mugging the fans for a bit as Kris asks for a mic from ringside. Adjusting the Anarchy Championship on his shoulder he smiles wide and starts to address the crowd.
”I believe it’s customary for the new champion to to come out on his pet show to address the people and lay down the rules the new regime will follow. So here I am…” He pauses, smirks and bears the hint of a fang, ”....and here are my rules. They’re simple rules, really. The rules that every program and every champion should follow, despite some falling awfully, awfully short.
My championship will be defended regularly. We’re not going to suffer another Atara who not so cleverly tried to save her run with this very title by ditching War Games. And yes, sweetheart, we are on to you and you’re right to bury your head in shame.
But only the talented and the deserving will get a shot. So rest assured the Razor Blade’s and The Director’s of the world are right out. The Anarchy title is for the WORTHY. The DESERVING. Save the scraps and the prattle for the Revolution Championship, thank you.
Which brings me to my next point. The man who presumes to be my next challenger: Michael Graves.”
The mention of the returning Graves draws a mixed reaction from the crowd.
”Michael, I got your message. “Notice of Imminent Violence.” Adorable, really. As if the last 300 years of my existence haven’t been anything but a parade of imminent violence. As if I didn’t JUST BEAT one of the most vicious and violent men in XWF history on Warfare this week.
Graves, I understand you’re an old hand around here so it shocks me that you would take such plebian measures to try to intimidate me. Because it’s going to take so, so much more than beating some backstage underlings to get under my skin.
My door was RIGHT THERE. All you had to do was knock and say hello. But you didn’t. You posted A SIGN. You diligently avoided me and left me a note like some heart struck teenage girl passing a missive in study hall.
Graves, when you lost your organs….did you lose both your testicles too?” Kris chuckles and shrugs. ”I guess we’ll find out. See you soon, masked man. Let’s not be a colossal disappointment, shall we?”
Kris drops the mic as his music starts to play again. Sam playfully sits on the middle rope and holds them open for the champ and Kris smirks and steps through before heading up the ramp and towards the back.
Backstage, near the locker rooms. Miss Furry cautiously approaches Graves, who is pacing, while muttering to himself.
"Micheal… I know you think that you don’t know any of us, maybe it’s the concussion messing with your brain, but whatever the case—we're YOUR students, and we think that you’re… incredible!
A master teacher!
A real inspiration!
A true man of the people!"
Graves stops mid-step, and spins around with a wild look in his eyes.
"Incredible? Inspirational? Man of anyone other than ME!?
You little fuckin’ weirdo… you think you can just stroll up here, slobber me over, and I’m supposed to what—rub your belly? I’ll gut you like a fuckin' fish, chew on your stupid kitty head, and use your whiskers as toothpicks!"
Miss Furry takes a small step back, but she doesn’t waver.
"I know it probably seems like you don’t know me at all, but... we’ve all been following and learning from you for like a whole year now. I have no clue why you don’t remember us... was it that concussion thing? Maybe? Anyway... no matter what, we just think you’re absolutely incredible. We basically worship you, and we really hope you get better and remember us."
Graves blinks.
”Worship…
...me..?”
He suddenly grimaces in pain and doubles over, rubbing his temples while muttering—"Damned concussion… fuck… it’s got me all twisted. I… I just can’t remember, but… but somehow I know you’re telling the truth…"
"It’s true—ALL OF IT! The title defenses, the wrestlers union... oh, and even that pesky business with the Vampire Truckers Union. We've stood by you through everything, and you've never steered us wrong—oh Captain, my captain."
Graves exhales as his grin spreads into an unhinged smirk.
"All this is too much… maybe I do need a little… help… remembering who I am… but you can’t drop all this heavy on me now, I have a title shot to claim... Let’s talk after!"
Miss Furry nods and steps back. Graves watches her leave, muttering to himself after she’s gone.
"…fuckin’ Mark…"
Todd: "Whoa… So now Graves is saying that it WAS him that we were watching over the last year… and not very convincingly—what is he really up to?"
Bama T: "I told ya, baby! That concussions' affecting his memory! Classic pro wrestling injury, and Graves is tackling it like a classic pro wrestler!"
Todd: "Yeah… okay,. but with Graves, you can never trust what he says… or what he’s planning next."
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 ramp, the bottom of his white cloak dragging along the ground. Once at the ring, he'd leap onto the apron before launching himself to show how strong and agile he was to lift such mass with such ease right over the top rope and de-cloaked 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.
BAMA: Oz here for his third and final match of the evening, he’s been in terrific form all night but he may be up against his biggest challenge in the form of THE DARK WARRIOR!
TODD: Bama, I’m receiving word from the back that Oz is choosing NOT to defend the X title against Gravy in this match!
BAMA: Well, of course! He’s already defended it twice tonight, there’s no need to do it three times! That would just be a distraction for Oz as he competes for the #1 contendership to Big Blue!
The lights drop.
Then the XTron flickers to life with the words:
HIDE YOUR COOKIES.
HIDE YOUR KIDS.
SANTA GRAVY'S...
HERE!
Then—>
Out stumbles a giant sleigh built out of de-wheeled shopping carts. Rust. Duct tape. A busted lawn Santa zip-tied to the front. and dragging it?
BIG. FREAKIN’. PREESH!
Preesh stomps down the ramp in an ill-fitting reindeer costume that looks like it was sourced from the dumpster at the Salvation Army.
Santa Gravy’s standing in the sleigh holding reins made out of extension cords he clearly stole from backstage.
Gravy starts digging through his Santa gift bag and hurling baggies of Elf Snow into the crowd. One dude catches one and immediately looks around him, unsure if he should stay for the match or book it before the cops show.
Another bag nails a kid’s dad in the forehead and explodes in white dust.
As the sleigh rattles its way down the ramp, Gravy points to the camera with a candy cane that’s somehow already sharpened on one end.
”I SEE YOU WHEN YOU’RE BLEEDIN’!
I KNOW WHEN YOU’RE A FAKE!
I KNOW WHEN YOU’VE BEEN OH SO DUMB—AND I’M GONNA STAB YOU WITH THIS STAKE!”
Preesh finally makes it to ringside wheezing like a dying pig. He unhooks himself and throws his arms into the air, screaming:
“YEAH BITCHES, CHRISTMAS!”
Gravy climbs out of the sleigh and slithers under the bottom rope.
More Elf Snow bags fly and someone in the front row gets hit in the mouth.
They swallow it.
Gravy drops the bag, coat, and rips off the beard.
He backs into his corner, notably still brandishing that sharp-ass candy cane.
TODD: One of the BEST and most deranged wrestlers to ever enter the XWF, Anarchy megastar, living legend, veteran. Micheal Graves, often copied but the original is here tonight and Bama I’ve got chills!
TODD: Got to feel for Mr. Oz here, this is his third match of the night! And a last man standing at that!
BAMA: The big doofus brought it on himself, baby! And look at the 100% authentic gen-u-ine article that is Micheal Graves! Back in full form, in the best shape he’s been in-
TODD: You think?
BAMA: Yes, Todd! He’s a well-oiled deviant! Oz may have heart but Graves has a pacemaker that runs on SOULS!
MR. OZ
- vs -
‘ASSUREDLY’ MICHEAL GRAVES
LAST MAN STANDING
The winner will become the #1 Contender to the Anarchy Championship!
DING! DING! DING!
Oz steps out the corner looking worse for wear from his previous bouts this evening as Graves cracks his neck and moves in motioning for a test of strength. Oz accepts raising his hand to meet Graves and the second their fingertips touch The Dark Warrior sends a ferocious kick into Oz’s moneybags! Getting a well-deserved round of boos from the crowd.
As Oz doubles over clutching his groin Graves sucker punches him with a brutal haymaker to the temple.
Oz drops like a sack of spuds, his eyes trying to focus as the ref starts the ten count.
1!
..
2!
Oz grabs the middle rope on the three and forces himself up as Graves approaches from his deadliest position, the rear but Oz throws a stray elbow and knocks Micheal aside before flipping over into a Pele Kick and nailing the back of Graves neck!
TODD: No matter how many times I see it I’m always surprised by Oz’s athleticism.
BAMA: I think our One of a Kind Micheal Graves was surprised by it too.
The two fall to the mat but Graves gets up first shaking the cobwebs as Oz rolls out of the ring for a quick breather before turning round and rug-pulling Graves, forcing him to fall onto his back before grabbing his leg and smashing it into the steel turnbuckle post! Graves lets out a howl of pain as Oz takes a moment to regain his stamina.
Graves hobbles up on a weak leg as he eyeballs Oz on the outside and runs the ropes looking for a suicide dive but quick thinking and reflexes on Oz’s part, Graves only meets the tail end of a ladder as Oz retrieves it from under the mat and smashes it into a flying Gravy!
Gravy crumples onto the ground in agony but begins letting out a sadistic laugh as Oz raises the ladder high above his head and smashes it down on Graves!
Oz then sets the ladder up above Gravy, pinning him underneath and begins climbing it halfway to push his weight down as Graves struggles.The ref begins the count!
1
..
2
..
3
..
BAMA: Genius move by Mr. Oz! 300 plus pounds sat firmly on Gravy here!
TODD: That’s a usual Saturday for him.
4
..
Gravy uses all his strength to push up on the ladder before planting his feet on the apron!
5
And Graves pushes against the apron to topple the ladder and Oz crashes spine first into the barricade!
The ladder clattering on top of him before steadying beside him, angled on the barricade.
Graves lets out a choked cough as he scrambles to his feet and sprints forward up the ladder which seesaws as he reaches the peak and Gravy jumps off and crushes Oz with a huge crossbody splash!
The crowd pop as the two spill into the seats!
The ref makes his way down as Graves pushes himself to his feet, grabbing Oz by the collar and waist and bowling him into the steel chairs at ringside as fans desperately get out of the way and Oz clatters into the chairs, spilling them out as his body rolls through the wreckage. Graves fist pumps making his strike before grabbing a chair on his slow walk to Oz and launches it at Mr. Oz who crawls in agony!
Then Gravy picks up another and launches it at him again.
And again.
AND AGAIN!
Before finally making his way to Oz and grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and pulling him up with a diabolical laugh, blood cascades down Oz who steels himself with a roar and throws a stiff elbow into Graves gut before grabbing him tight, lifting him in the air and locking in a gnarly bear hug!
Oz thrashes Graves as bones crack and Gravy’s laughter turns into choked gasps.
Graves grabs Oz’s shoulders and throws a headbutt into Oz who grits through the pain, unmoving his wide eyes glaring at Graves as blood pours down his forehead. Graves throws another but Oz locks in more and on the third headbutt Oz roars and turns runs with Graves in his hold and like a fright train barges through fans and chairs before exiting through the barricade next to the ramp!
BAMA: Holy SHIT!
The pair collapse near the ramp unmoving. Graves grasps his back as Oz lays still. The ref rushes over and throws his hand in the air for the-
1!
..
2!
..
3!
TODD: This could end like this!
4!
BAMA: Neither of these lunatics are gonna give like this, baby!
5!
Gravy lifts his head grabbing the ramp.
6!
As Oz crawls to a knee.
7!
BAMA: Told ya!
8!
And Oz is up first!
9!
And Graves just gets up in time! Putting his back against the ramp as Oz rushes in and bowls Gravy over with a clothesline!
Micheal ends up on the ramp and drunkenly rushes to his feet as Oz climbs up and throws a right forcing Graves up the ramp! Who fights back and the two brawl up to the stage before a slow punch is ducked by Graves and he grabs Oz for a fallaway slam!
Tossing Oz right through the glass partition at the side of the entrance!
BAMA: GODDAMN!
The crowd pop huge as both men are on the hard steel of the ramp, Oz on the other side covered in glass shards.
TODD: I knew having glass there tonight was a terrible idea.
BAMA: Looks great though.
TODD: Looked great, Bama.
The ref awkwardly motions through the debris to check on Oz before beginning his count again.
1!
..
2!
..
3!
BUT GRAVES THROWS THE REF ASIDE!
TODD: The hell is he doing!?
BAMA: He’s got a taste for blood! He’s rabid, baby!
Graves grabs a broken Oz and pulls him out of the wreckage before spinning him around and sending him headfirst into the other glass panel!
BUT OZ COMES ALIVE!
Halting himself and tearing Graves face and mask with a forearm of glass!
Oz falls back in pain as Graves grabs at his face.
Oz rushes in!
Shoulder barge to Graves gut forcing him to the edge of the stage!
AND OZ LIFTS GRAVES!
TODD: SLEEP NOW SWEET CHILD O’ MINE!!!
HUGE GTS SEND GRAVES REBOUNDING OFF OZ’S KNEE AND OFF THE STAGE!
Falling several feet onto hard concrete!
Oz falls to a knee out of breath, given everything he’s got as the ref peers over the edge and starts his count!
1!
..
2!
..
3!
..
4!
BAMA: Holy shit he did it! I doubted Oz but by god he pulled through.
5!
TODD: Three matches in one night is no easy feat but another win here is monumental!
6!
..
7!
EI-OOOF!
CHAIR SHOT TO THE REF!
TODD: WHAT THE HELL!?!!?
The ref topples down from the stage as Oz looks to the assailant…
BAMA: THERE’S TWO MICHEAL GRAVES’S!!!!?!?!
Oz is in disbelief as the other Graves looks down and quickly sprints away as Oz tries to grab him!
BAMA: There can’t be two of them! One of them must be some kind of… Tribute!
TODD: No matter what it is, that fake Gravy just cost Oz the match!
Oz in disbelief yells out before jumping off the stage gets to the ref and tries to rouse him.
BAMA: This is a travesty!
TODD: You’re telling me, Bama! This could have been history tonight.
The ref stirs and begins to get up with Oz above him but Graves pounces on Oz!
His hands grasped tightly around Oz’s throat throwing away any kind of strategy and just trying to strangle the life out of him.
Oz struggles as Graves pushes down on his throat, blood dripping onto Oz from Gravy’s mauled face.
Oz scratches at Gravy’s arms as he fades.
Until-
BAMA: I FAILED YOU!!!
Oz forces his hand into Graves' maw for his signature mandible claw!
Gravy’s grasp loosens as he begins to panic!
Oz screams at Graves atop him as the ref comes too, finally.
And as Gravy begins to fade, the pain too much he lets out a wretch.
And-
TODD: POISON MIST!!!!!!!!!!
Almost vomiting the blue mist onto Oz’s face, the mist covers him.
Oz tries to fight through it, but the sleep overpowers him.
And as Gravy is about to give in.
Oz fades first, his arm dropping to his side.
Gravy falls back onto his ass breathing heavily as the ref counts.
1!
TODD: That cheating bastard!
2!
BAMA: We have no idea if Gravy planned for his doppelganger, Todd! It could be anyone!
4!
TODD: Oz was right there. RIGHT THERE!!! He got his win stolen.
6!
Gravy smiles to himself putting his back to the wall as he tries not to pass out himself.
7!
BAMA: After what we’ve seen tonight, might not count Oz out yet, baby!
The only way for Dickie or Kieran to win, is by pinning Centurion! But Centurion has to pin BOTH Dickie and Kieran to win! No DQ, no count outs.
The camera fades in on the ring, already bearing the scars of earlier violence. All three men are already inside the ring, each posted up in a corner of their own choosing. Centurion stands tall and unmoving, stoic in his resolve. Dickie Watson circles the perimeter with measured steps and loose shoulders. Kieran King leans back in his corner, one arm draped over the top rope, his expression unreadable but calculating.
Todd: And now, we are all set for tonight’s MAIN EVENT! The current Universal Champion, DICKIE WATSON! The FORMER Universal Champion, Kieran King! And then, OF COURSE, The Anarchy LEGEND- CENTURION!
Bama: I can’t believe that Centurion asked for this match! It’s basically a death sentence for him! He’s like a piece of meat out there, caught between our two most recent Universal Champions!
Todd: Well Bama’, I don’t think he asked for this stipulation! I think it was forced on him by Dick Lichter, because, well- he’s a DICK!
Bama: Either way, we are in for one hell of a show tonight! Who’s going to walk away victoriously? And will Centurion even be able to survive? We’re about to find out!
DING! DING! DING!
No one moves when the bell rings.
For a long beat, the three men simply assess one another.
Dickie is the first to step forward, testing Centurion with a low kick to the thigh. Centurion absorbs it, barely shifting his weight. Dickie follows with another, then a third, snapping his hips into each strike, targeting the base.
Centurion responds with a sudden forearm that sends Dickie stumbling backward into the ropes.
Kieran smiles.
He darts in from the side, clipping Centurion with a sharp kick to the knee, then immediately retreats. No follow-up. No commitment. Just damage and distance!
Centurion turns slowly, eyes locked on Kieran.
Todd: Both Dickie and Kieran seem to have their sights set on Centurion! They’re not wasting any time with each other here tonight!
Bama: Well of course, Todd! The only way they can win is by pinning Centurion- and the only way Centurion can win is by pinning BOTH of them!
Dickie charges again, hammering Centurion with rapid forearms, trying to keep him off balance. Centurion backs up a step, then plants and fires back with a crushing elbow that snaps Dickie’s head sideways.
The crowd roars as Centurion grabs Dickie by the wrist and whips him across the ring.
Dickie rebounds.
Centurion lifts-
And a thunderous slam rattles the canvas!
Centurion hooks the leg-
One!
KICKOUT!
The force of Dickie’s kickout causes Centurion to fly off of him, but Kieran rushes right in! Kieran snaps a quick kick to Dickie’s ribs while he’s still down.
But then, Centurion rises and charges Kieran.
Kieran slides between the ropes and drops to the floor, laughing, forcing Centurion to halt. There are no count outs, so there are no consequences for King’s retreat!
Centurion turns back—
—and Dickie cracks him with a running knee to the jaw!
Centurion staggers.
Dickie presses, unloading a flurry of strikes, then drops low and snaps a leg kick that finally takes Centurion down to one knee.
The crowd senses momentum going the Champ’s way! They start chanting “DICK-E, DICK-E!”.
Dickie hooks Centurion’s head and wrenches him down into a grounded hold, grinding forearms into his face, trying to sap strength early.
Kieran slides back in behind them, dragging a steel chair into the ring!
The referee protests out of habit, but he knows there’s no rules in this match that he can enforce!
So Kieran just ignores him!
Kieran raises the chair—
—and Dickie shouts and shoves Centurion out of the way. The chair crashes into the mat instead.
Bama: WOAH! Dickie just saved Centurion!
Todd: Our Universal Champion isn’t one for dirty tricks! He wants a clean match here tonight!
Dickie spins and blasts Kieran with a forearm, then another, driving him back toward the corner!
Kieran scrambles, ducking a third shot and raking Dickie’s eyes. He snaps a kick to Dickie’s knee and shoves him into the turnbuckles.
Centurion surges up behind Kieran and grabs him by the throat.
The arena erupts as Kieran begins struggling for air!
Centurion lifts Kieran and throws him across the ring, sending him crashing hard into the opposite corner.
Centurion turns—
—and Dickie hits him with a stiff roundhouse kick that echoes through the building.
Centurion stumbles.
Dickie charges.
Centurion catches him mid-stride and plants him with a spine-rattling slam!
Centurion doesn’t waste time. He grabs Dickie, hauls him up, and drives him into the corner with a shoulder that nearly folds him in half.
Centurion unloads heavy strikes, each one deliberate.
Kieran, barely upright, launches himself from the corner and drives the chair into Centurion’s back.
Once.
Twice.
Centurion drops to one knee.
Kieran swings again—
Centurion catches the chair! Centurion rips it from Kieran’s hands and tosses it out of the ring like scrap metal.
Kieran backs up, panic flashing across his face as he’s just been disarmed.
Centurion steps forward…
But Dickie charges from behind and clips Centurion’s leg, finally taking the Anarchy legend down!
Dickie hooks Centurion’s leg and rolls him onto his back.
One!
KICKOUT!!
Centurion powers out violently! Dickie rolls away, breathing hard. Kieran immediately pounces on Dickie, stomping him into the mat, then drags him toward the ropes and chokes him with the bottom strand.
The referee warns him again, uselessly.
Centurion pushes himself up and charges, booting Kieran off Dickie and sending him rolling.
Centurion grabs Dickie and hoists him up—
—and plants him with the 1000 Mile Slam, a devastating, full-force maneuver that shakes the ring!
The crowd goes nuts as Centurion hooks the leg for the pin!
One!
Two!!
Three!!!
DICKIE WATSON HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!
Bama: Dickie Watson has been pinned. Dickie is eliminated!
Todd: Centurion just took out the Universal Champion! This is insane!
Kieran throws himself at Centurion, desperation in every strike, hammering forearms, kicks, elbows, trying to keep Centurion from resetting.
But Centurion just absorbs them, ala Hulk Hogan mid-hulking!
The crowd begins chanting his name!
That’s when Kieran decides to run the ropes—
But Centurion catches him!
Centurion lifts—
—and hits the 1000 Mile Slam on Kieran!
The building shakes with excitement! The fans can’t believe what they’re seeing!
Centurion covers!
One!
TWO!!
THREE- NO!
Kieran kicks out at the last possible millisecond!
Bama: He kicked out! He kicked out! The King just kicked out!
Todd: Centurion almost had him! Centurion almost had this match won!
Centurion sits up, stunned. Kieran rolls onto his side, coughing, eyes wild, his survival instinct kicking in as Centurion’s dominance continues.
Centurion rises and hauls Kieran up again, looking to end it for good this time.
But Kieran snaps a sudden headbutt!
Centurion staggers.
AND KIERAN FIRES OFF A LOW-BLOW!
The crowd boos mercilessly.
But Kieran doesn’t give a damn. He drives Centurion into the turnbuckle, stomps him down, then drags him out and spikes him with an F YOUR HEAD!
Centurion’s limp body folds lifelessly against the mat!
Kieran collapses atop him for the cover.
One!
Two!!
Three!!!
Winner by Pinfall – Kieran King
Todd: That dirty son of a bitch! Chairshots, headbutts, low blows- he pulled out every trick in his book…and he still BARELY got past Centurion! I don’t care what anyone says, tonight was a victory for Centurion! He showed that he can hang with anybody inside that ring!
Bama: A victory for Centurion? Are you daft, Todd?! King just won the match! He just took Dickie and Centy to task!
The crowd rains boos as Kieran rolls off Centurion, chest heaving, a crooked smile spreading across his face.
Centurion lies still, spent.
Kieran rises slowly… then starts stomping Centurion again.
Over and over!
The referee shouts for the bell crew, but the officials hesitate to interfere.
Todd: Oh my God! This match is already over, but Kieran King just won’t stop! Someone needs to get in there and help Centurion!
Suddenly—
Dickie Watson slides back into the ring to stop the beatdown!
The crowd erupts as Dickie tackles Kieran from behind, raining down punches!
Kieran scrambles free, rolling away, then surges back with a sudden, vicious uppercut that drops Dickie cold!
Dickie starts to collapse- but Kieran isn’t having any of that! Instead, Kieran just smirks….and then hits another F YOUR HEAD- on Dickie this time!
Kieran gets up and stands over him, breathing hard, his eyes burning with the rage of a King dethroned.
A ringside official slides the Universal Championship into the ring towards Dickie…
But Kieran snatches it!
Christmas-themed confetti begins to fall from the rafters, red and green fluttering through the air as Kieran plants a boot on Dickie Watson’s chest and raises the title high above his head.
The final image is Kieran King standing tall, title held aloft, confetti raining down, two fallen men at his feet.
Bama: And that’s why they call him THE KING! That ring is his castle, and that championship is his throne!
Todd: ‘That championship’ belongs to Dickie Watson! And Kieran King is nothing but a dirty, cheating thug!
Bama: Be that as it may, Todd- but we are out of time this week! Kieran King showed his dominance, and now, he’s ending the year with a MASSIVE victory over that usurper, Dickie Watson!
Todd: Folks, make sure you tune in next year- because I have a feeling that Kieran King is about to get his just come-uppance…just, not this year!
Bama: Guten Nachten, everybody!
THANKS FOR ALL OUR MATCH WRITERS
ATTICUS GOLD
PETER PRINCIPLE
CHARLIE NICKLES
VINNIE LANE
AND OUR SEGMENT WRITERS
BIG GRAVY
CLUTCH CASSIDY
KRISTOFFER ‘COUNT DRACULA’ ARROYO
SCOOPS Mick-GG
‘KING’ KIERAN ‘THE KING’ KING
XWF FanBase: The IWC (gets varying reactions in the arenas, but will be worshiped like a god and defended until the end by internet fans; literally has thousands of online dorks logging on to complain anytime they lose a match or don't get pushed right)
Oz lays exhausted after showering and getting dressed. He looked up to the ceiling of the locker room, grinning as his servants brought a custom looking wheelchair as he sees the camera crew coming in and he groans as he gets up to sit straight up.
"Two out of three ain't bad. Two X-Treme Title defenses. Three left."
He groans as some of his body started to pop like his body was connected to firecrackers.
"I chose my path. I chose my challenges. I showed my students what they can do when they put their minds into the hard work aspect of this business.
I destroy bodies. I breathe in suffering. Sleep.
Repeat.
Graves can talk all the shit he wants, but he isn't the one showing how huge his fuckin' balls are.
Three matches. Three different ones. Compared to me, every single one of you on this roster or ANY OTHER is BENEATH me. Until you people start people recognizing that the work horse of this fucking entire company, the motherfucker who has been through thick and thin, is ME!
I am a pillar of the XWF and it's high time you people start recognizing that.
And I am making a declaration here and now, until I say otherwise, for the next few shows I am requesting THREE matches. I don't give a fuck who the opponent is.
I'm going to make you people recognize that whether I hold a title or fucking not: I! AM! HIM!"
He gets into the chair.
"Time to go back home. Mind your feet. I don't need a goddamn lawsuit."
(12-23-2025, 02:27 AM)Mr. Oz Said: Oz lays exhausted after showering and getting dressed. He looked up to the ceiling of the locker room, grinning as his servants brought a custom looking wheelchair as he sees the camera crew coming in and he groans as he gets up to sit straight up.
"Two out of three ain't bad. Two X-Treme Title defenses. Three left."
He groans as some of his body started to pop like his body was connected to firecrackers.
"I chose my path. I chose my challenges. I showed my students what they can do when they put their minds into the hard work aspect of this business.
I destroy bodies. I breathe in suffering. Sleep.
Repeat.
Graves can talk all the shit he wants, but he isn't the one showing how huge his fuckin' balls are.
Three matches. Three different ones. Compared to me, every single one of you on this roster or ANY OTHER is BENEATH me. Until you people start people recognizing that the work horse of this fucking entire company, the motherfucker who has been through thick and thin, is ME!
I am a pillar of the XWF and it's high time you people start recognizing that.
And I am making a declaration here and now, until I say otherwise, for the next few shows I am requesting THREE matches. I don't give a fuck who the opponent is.
I'm going to make you people recognize that whether I hold a title or fucking not: I! AM! HIM!"
He gets into the chair.
"Time to go back home. Mind your feet. I don't need a goddamn lawsuit."
The following note was left in Oz's dirty laundry.
Some of his clothes were later found to be missing.
Yo Oz,
My sack is fuckin HUGE and my remaining nut is harder then youll ever be!!!
credit where its do tho, you got sum good shots in, kid.
one of em mighta even left a mark... on my giveAshitoMeter!
Probly not tho.
Keep beggin for three matches a card and maybe sumday, sum one, will give a fuck.
Love,
the Dark Warrior
the Grave Digger
the Balls of Steel
the Nut Harder than Diamond
the Top Guy of Anarchy
the Real HIM
the Motherfuckin XTREMECORE Legend
and the dude who Knew Dollys freeshness was set to expire at 18
and and Your next Anarchy Champion (you may bow)
Gravy
(12-23-2025, 02:27 AM)Mr. Oz Said: "Two out of three ain't bad. Two X-Treme Title defenses. Three left."
While still in his wheelchair, Peter Principle raises his hand from the back.
He's wearing a Corporation 4 Lyfe t-shirt.
"Um..." Principle scratches his head. "Sorry, I'm just trying to keep track of this whole... 'Corporation Freebird X-Treme title' scheme in my head. So..."
...He pulls out some scratch paper and starts notating...
"Okay, so... Charlie pinned Cambric to win the X-Treme title... but he declared that all the Corporation would defend the X-Treme... with you so far..."
"Then Oz beats Pennyfarthing. That counts as a defense, sure..."
"Then Oz beats Marisol. Of course, that's a defense. That's two defenses..."
Peter nods, all very simple so far...
"But then, Oz LOSES to Micheal Graves."
...
Peter scratches the top of his head with his pen.
"So..."
...
"Shouldn't Micheal Graves be the X-Treme champion?"
(12-23-2025, 02:27 AM)Mr. Oz Said: "Two out of three ain't bad. Two X-Treme Title defenses. Three left."
While still in his wheelchair, Peter Principle raises his hand from the back.
He's wearing a Corporation 4 Lyfe t-shirt.
"Um..." Principle scratches his head. "Sorry, I'm just trying to keep track of this whole... 'Corporation Freebird X-Treme title' scheme in my head. So..."
...He pulls out some scratch paper and starts notating...
"Okay, so... Charlie pinned Cambric to win the X-Treme title... but he declared that all the Corporation would defend the X-Treme... with you so far..."
"Then Oz beats Pennyfarthing. That counts as a defense, sure..."
"Then Oz beats Marisol. Of course, that's a defense. That's two defenses..."
Peter nods, all very simple so far...
"But then, Oz LOSES to Micheal Graves."
...
Peter scratches the top of his head with his pin.
"So..."
...
"Shouldn't Micheal Graves be the X-Treme champion?"
...
"Please tell me what to think."
Oz might be shittin'—and Gravy might've just manifested from the crop dustin'.
"You speakin' for me now wheelchair-boy?
If so, your brain's about as broken as your legs—which is obvious by your dummy-like question!
First off—if Gravy wanted the 'Target-Tin' around his waist, he wouldn't need YOU of all people to come out and make the case.
Now, about your claim—Graves beat Oz—BIG WHOOP!
I ain't stupid—I know the score—I've beaten one COG in the machine. I didn't touch Charlie and he didn't lay a finger on me!
If I were interested in that hunk of junk—I'd march my ass out to the ring at the very next show and DEMAND a shot at the whole corporation!
Fuck three matches in one night—Gravy would run the gauntlet, or have it ran on him—sounds like a good time either way!
By-the-by—ain't doin' none of that—because if you hadn't noticed——I already planned a date with a 'Twilight' twink who's into macabre and blood almost as much as me————BETTER TIME!
Finally—I'm pretty sure that the Xtreme title only changes hands via pinfall or submission in non-advertised defenses.
I Smurfed him—if you recall.
Yer welcome Oz, you can unpucker that asshole now."
(12-23-2025, 02:27 AM)Mr. Oz Said: "Two out of three ain't bad. Two X-Treme Title defenses. Three left."
While still in his wheelchair, Peter Principle raises his hand from the back.
He's wearing a Corporation 4 Lyfe t-shirt.
"Um..." Principle scratches his head. "Sorry, I'm just trying to keep track of this whole... 'Corporation Freebird X-Treme title' scheme in my head. So..."
...He pulls out some scratch paper and starts notating...
"Okay, so... Charlie pinned Cambric to win the X-Treme title... but he declared that all the Corporation would defend the X-Treme... with you so far..."
"Then Oz beats Pennyfarthing. That counts as a defense, sure..."
"Then Oz beats Marisol. Of course, that's a defense. That's two defenses..."
Peter nods, all very simple so far...
"But then, Oz LOSES to Micheal Graves."
...
Peter scratches the top of his head with his pin.
"So..."
...
"Shouldn't Micheal Graves be the X-Treme champion?"
...
"Please tell me what to think."
Holly rolls her eyes and clears her throat.
"The rules of the X title says only one Anarchy defense is needed to fulfill the requirement. Mr oz met that requirement upon defeating Mr pennyfarthing as stated in the match card above since apparently you didn't read it.. Mr oz made an honest mistake thinking otherwise with his remarks and was likely thinking bout our plans for Warfare which requires three defenses. Here is a copy of the X title rules since you seem lost"
Holly staples the rules to peters forehead, drawing blood.
The following 1 user Likes Dr. Holly Cambric's post:1 user Likes Dr. Holly Cambric's post Mr. Oz (12-23-2025)
(12-20-2025, 03:34 AM)'Big' Dick Lichter Said: BAMA: Oz here for his third and final match of the evening, he’s been in terrific form all night but he may be up against his biggest challenge in the form of THE DARK WARRIOR!
TODD: Bama, I’m receiving word from the back that Oz is choosing NOT to defend the X title against Gravy in this match!
BAMA: Well, of course! He’s already defended it twice tonight, there’s no need to do it three times! That would just be a distraction for Oz as he competes for the #1 contendership to Big Blue!
The following 1 user Likes Charlie Nickles's post:1 user Likes Charlie Nickles's post Peter Principle (12-23-2025)
(12-20-2025, 03:34 AM)'Big' Dick Lichter Said: BAMA: Oz here for his third and final match of the evening, he’s been in terrific form all night but he may be up against his biggest challenge in the form of THE DARK WARRIOR!
TODD: Bama, I’m receiving word from the back that Oz is choosing NOT to defend the X title against Gravy in this match!
BAMA: Well, of course! He’s already defended it twice tonight, there’s no need to do it three times! That would just be a distraction for Oz as he competes for the #1 contendership to Big Blue!
"...Oh!"
Peter smacks his head, which of course, Cambric stapled a copy of the rules to! The papers flit as he smacks them.
"Okay! That makes sense! Oz decided not to defend it. Cuz, of course, the champ can CHOOSE not to defend their X-Treme Title!"
Peter nods, being glad he was told what to think.
"No, duh, of course! It's not like the belt is on the line 24/7 or anything..."
...
Peter looks up at the ceiling.
"...Wait... Ugh, no... Something's still weird..."
Principle scratches the staple embedded into the middle of his skull...
"Ugh, I should stop thinking, it's making my brain hurt..."
He waves a little flag from the XWF shop that says "I <3 the Corporation"!
"YAY CORPORATION!"
The following 2 users Like Peter Principle's post:2 users Like Peter Principle's post Charlie Nickles (12-23-2025), Mr. Oz (12-24-2025)
(12-20-2025, 03:34 AM)'Big' Dick Lichter Said: BAMA: Oz here for his third and final match of the evening, he’s been in terrific form all night but he may be up against his biggest challenge in the form of THE DARK WARRIOR!
TODD: Bama, I’m receiving word from the back that Oz is choosing NOT to defend the X title against Gravy in this match!
BAMA: Well, of course! He’s already defended it twice tonight, there’s no need to do it three times! That would just be a distraction for Oz as he competes for the #1 contendership to Big Blue!
“The fuck's the point of calling that shit 24/7 then, ya bunch of yellow-bellied beatniks?”
"You know, I've seen some pretty fucked up shit when it comes to title defenses in the XWF, but this is WAY up there. Freebirding a 24/7 Title? Only an absolute insane person would consider that."
The following 1 user Likes Centurion's post:1 user Likes Centurion's post Mr. Oz (12-24-2025)
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