XWF Anarchy 2 - 26 - 2026 LIVE FROM SCOTIABANK ARENA! TORONTO, CANADA MR. OZ - vs - ??? - vs - ??? - vs - ??? MR. OZ'S OPEN CHALLENGE GAUNTLET MATCH! Mr. Oz has issued an open challenge against every member of the roster! Oz will have 3 consecutive matches against the first 3 wrestlers to declare for his gauntlet. Mr. Oz must write 3 RPs, one for every stage of the gauntlet! XXXVI © - vs - BOBBY SALES SHAMWOW CHALLENGE! It's like a first blood match, but you can only win by cleaning up your opponent's blood with an XWF-branded ShamWow! SUMMER PAGE - vs - MISS FURRY - vs - JOHN BLADE X-TREME RULES TRIPLE THREAT! SIR LIONEL PENNYFARTHING - vs - MICHEAL GRAVES © 'ALLEGING' MICHEAL GRAVES MATCH! Each competitor will be given a bucket of props and a costume. Using only the props and costumes provided, they must prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that they are the REAL Micheal Graves by getting the referee to "allege" it. No count outs, no submissions, no pinfalls, and no DQs! May the best actor win! CLOWNS R' US SCHADENFREUDE CLOWN, ENNUI CLOWN, & ENIGMATIC CLOWN - vs - THE KINGSGUARD KINGSGUARD #7, KINSGUARD #8, & KINGSGUARD #9 HANG THE JESTERS MATCH! Each Kingsguard will be given a noose. Each Clown will be given a pie. The only way The Kingsguard can win, is by stringing up all the clowns from a hanging post in the middle of the ring. The only way Clowns R' Us can win, is by eating all 3 pies before all 3 Clowns are hanged. 1 RP per team @ 2,000 words

EARLIER TODAY

As the show is set to begin, a nervous looking Dick Lichter is standing outside of the building, pacing back and forth. After some time passes, a white Tesla car comes screeching into view, parking directly in front of him. The driver of the vehicle quickly gets out the car and runs to the passanger side. He opens the door, and out steps Elon Musk in all his Musky glory.

LICHTER: Mr. Musk! So happy you made it…

MUSK: Yeah yeah, listen, I've got a big announcement to make tonight, and I need to make sure everything goes off without a hitch. Tighten up security. And let the staff know that Centurion is barred from the arena tonight.

Lichter nervously nods as he looks at Musk. Musk doesn't move or say anything - he just snaps his fingers, and Lichter takes off running. A sea of aids then form behind him as he walks into the arena.




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.


TODD: Once more, folks, get ready to witness the dominating presence that is Mister Oz!

BAMA: For the last few weeks in a row, Ozzy has demanded three! Count ‘em, THREE matches!

TODD: Admittedly, Oz’s record during this streak has not been perfect. In fact, last week, due to some oddball luck, atypical officiating, and an opportune roll-up by Miss Furry, Oz batted 0-for-3 last Anarchy!

BAMA: But remember the result, Toddrick! One of those men is currently stuck in a hospital bed! His jaw had to be wired shut! That clown in the second slot got pummeled into a smiley-face shaped BLOOD SPLATTER! And Miss Furry got L-U-C-K-E-E LUCKY after those first two dumb results threw Oz off his game!

TODD: We did see Oz in the back before these matches and he looks focused! He looks determined! To get back to his dominant ways! To prove he is, as he often says, the FACE of Anarchy! And the workhorse of the XWF!

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: Remember! This week is different than any before it, Bama! This is not only Oz taking on three opponents! This is an open gauntlet! Literally anyone can come out and face Oz right now!

BAMA: But who in their right mind would want to step into the ring with Oz, Toddy baby!

…



Big Preesh struts to the ring throwing his hands up in the air in time with the music.

TODD: Wow! What?!? Big Preesh!

BAMA: Hot damn! This just got interesting! Oz’s open challenge… and the first opponent is one of the only guys on the roster bigger than Oz!

He holds out the front of his BOB tee shirt and shouts about how much he loves being a part of the best group in pro wrestling.

TODD: Preesh is four inches taller than Oz… And 324 pounds heavier!

BAMA: Hope Oz packed his-self a sack lunch cuz this first match is gonna be an all-day job!

When he gets to the ring he punches the top turnbuckle like a speed bag and then shouts "YEAH BITCH!" with his arms raised before waiting for the bell to ring.

He doesn’t have to wait long! The bell rings!

MISTER OZ - vs - BIG PREESH Gauntlet Match #1 of 3

Big Preesh stands in his corner, his lips curled into a cocky grin, nostrils flaring wide as he throws his arms out to soak in imaginary adoration.

TODD: Preesh might wanna watch himself here… He’s looking confident… maybe too confident…

Preesh lumbers forward and throws his full 650-pound frame into a heavy shoulder tackle, trying to flatten Oz immediately.

Oz plants his feet instead of backing down. His chest expands with a controlled breath — fury contained, not explosive.

He drops his center of gravity and absorbs the collision.

The impact booms through the ring — but Preesh stumbles backward instead of Oz!

Preesh’s cocky grin flickers. His eyes widen for half a second. His breathing hitches.

[blue]BAMA: Hot damn! Preesh got tried to bowl Oz over, but ended up getting bounced back!

TODD: That’s Oz through sheer technical ability and an unbreakable force of will resisting a three-hundred-plus pound size advantage in his opponent’s favor!

Preesh snorts, thinking that must have been a fluke…

Preesh snarls and rushes again, this time swinging a wild clothesline, trying to reassert dominance.

Oz’s lips press into a cold line. His head tilts slightly as if disappointed. His shoulders dip.

Because he sees the opening created by Preesh’s overreach, Oz ducks cleanly under the clothesline and springs off the ropes.

Preesh’s eyes follow him too late, as his forward momentum carries him into a rebound off the ropes…

WHAM! Oz launches into a lightning-fast dropkick, both boots crashing into Preesh’s chest!

Preesh’s mouth flies open in shock as his massive body topples backward like a falling tree.

TODD: Dropkick from Oz!

BAMA:  Big boys ain’t built to fall like that, Toddrick!

Preesh rolls to a knee, his face reddening with embarrassment. He shakes his head violently, slapping his own chest!

TODD: Preesh trying to wake himself up here! Trying to refind that confidence he started the match with!

Preesh surges forward and snatches Oz into a crushing bear hug, squeezing with desperation more than control.

Oz’s eyes squeeze shut. His teeth grit. His ribs visibly compress as Preesh roars into the crowd.

Because oxygen is being stolen from him, Oz’s expression shifts from pain to calculation. His brow smooths. His body stops struggling wildly.

He draws his knees upward and suddenly drives a sharp high knee into Preesh’s ribs!

Preesh’s roar turns into a stunned grunt. His grip loosens.

Because his equilibrium wavers, Preesh staggers backward.

Oz’s chest rises and falls evenly. His expression remains ice-cold.

Oz stalks forward like a predator closing in…

Preesh tries to catch Oz surging… he suddenly lunges for a desperate…

BIG HEADBUTT!

Oz’s eyes widen for a split second — then harden.

Because he anticipates the reckless charge, Oz sidesteps and hooks Preesh’s arm.

With shocking strength, Oz hoists the 650-pounder into a trembling delayed vertical suplex, holding him upside down… squatting once… twice…

Preesh’s eyes bulge in panic, arms flailing as blood rushes to his head.

Because gravity cannot be denied forever, Oz drops him flat.

The mat quakes.

Preesh gasps, staring at the lights.

Oz’s nostrils flare. A flicker of contempt crosses his face, as he floats into a cover!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Winner of Match #1: Mister Oz!

Oz releases slowly.

Preesh rolls to his side, coughing and disoriented.

Oz stands.

His face shows no celebration. Only cold vindication.

Because he views Preesh as an obstacle, not a rival, Oz grips the giant by the leg and drags him toward the ropes.

With dismissive contempt, Oz boots Big Preesh under the bottom rope like discarded trash.

Preesh spills to the floor in a heap.

Todd: That was decisive. That was surgical.

Bama T: Preesh thought he was walkin’ into a highlight reel. Instead he got judged.

Oz steps back to the center of the ring.

His shoulders square. His jaw sets. His breathing slows.

Quiet fury radiates from him.

Waiting.

Ready for the second sacrifice in the gauntlet.

…



Southern Gentleman Detective Clown emerges through the curtain under the X-Tron with dramatic flair! He paces at the top of the ramp, stroking his chin as he ponders the intricacies of the mystery that is his opponent this evening!

[blue]TODD: Southern Gentleman Detective Clown! This suave sleuth, with a syrupy southern drawl dripping from the depths of his duodenum might prove to be a very interesting challenge for Mister Oz!

BAMA: Oz has an 0-1 record against clowns! …Well, okay, clowns as in actual clowns, not clowns like Sir Lionel and Preesh, who he has consistently dominated! But the actual clown that Oz wrestled last Anarchy, Oz accidentally got his-self disqualified against!

TODD: Let’s see if he can correct that tonight!

With a flash, SGDC has a eureka moment! He strolls down the ring, looking southern, looking gentlemanly, and most of all, looking like a detective clown…

MISTER OZ - vs - SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN DETECTIVE CLOWN Gauntlet Match #2 of 3

SGDC stands just outside striking range, chin tilted curiously, eyes narrowed in theatrical intrigue. His gloved finger strokes his painted mustache.

Because he believes Oz is a puzzle to be dismantled, he circles slowly, head cocked as if considering every angle of this mystery that is Oz...

Oz’s jaw tightens. His nostrils flare faintly.

TODD: I don’t think Oz likes clowns! He’s like a rodeo bull eager to charge!

BAMA: I don’t think Oz likes anybody! He’s like a psychopath about to dismantle an idiot! And by “like”, I mean, the front row should have a big Gallagher tarp if they don’t want to get covered in clown blood!/blue]

Oz suddenly lunges forward with a devastating clothesline, aiming to decapitate the clown in one motion.

SGDC’s eyes widen — not in fear, but delighted surprise.

Because he anticipated brute force, he casually steps aside with exaggerated politeness, tipping his hat as Oz’s arm cuts through empty air.

[blue]TODD: SGDC seems comfortable letting the clues accumulate before he solves this caper!

BAMA: What caper? The mystery is Oz is going to LITERALLY MURDER HIM!

---

Oz pivots and charges with a shoulder tackle, intending to crush SGDC into paste.

SGDC gasps dramatically, hand to chest.

Because brute momentum is predictable and he can calculate such caveman strength with a simple application of his inscrutable mind, SGDC drops flat to the mat at the last possible second.

Oz sails over him awkwardly and crashes chest-first into the turnbuckles!

The ropes rattle.

SGDC pops up behind him, dusting off Oz’s back politely.

Oz slowly turns.

His expression now shows visible irritation.

---

Oz charges out of the corner… SGDC strokes his chin, back turned from Oz…

BAMA: That clown’s about to be a rainbow-colored corpse!

Oz charges… Stampeding!

But SGDC gasps at something on the mat! A clue!

He ducks forward, extending a leg backward! SGDC wags a finger and suddenly sticks his foot out.

Oz steps forward—

Cleanly tripping Oz, who stumbles forward!

TODD: SGDC found a clue! One step closer to closing this case!

SGDC lifts a small piece of paper to his eyes…

He retrieves a magnifying glass from his coat pocket and examines it…

You should beat Oz

SGDC gasps! What a concept!

---

Oz explodes upward in an incredibly athletic kip-up! He barrels toward his opponent and swings a vicious big boot.

SGDC’s eyes go wide again — delighted.

Because he thrives in chaos, he bends backward in an exaggerated limbo-like dodge, the boot grazing the tip of his nose.

He freezes in that pose, smiling smugly at Oz upside down.

Oz’s face hardens into stone.

Because anger clouds patience, Oz storms forward and grabs for SGDC’s throat.

SGDC gasps theatrically.

Because direct engagement means death, he crawls like a spider backwards between Oz’s legs, rolls through, and pops up behind him — slapping Oz lightly on the back of the head.

Oz turns again, fury now visible in the tightness of his brow.

SGDC pulls a notepad from his jacket and scribbles.

“Subject prone to emotional escalation,” he mutters audibly.

Oz’s chest heaves…

AND IN A FLASH HE SCOOPS SGDC OFF HIS FEET!

TODD: Uh oh! SGDC’s been caught!

BAMA: The detective’s been nabbed! And the killer’s eager to strike!

DOUBLE A SPINERBUSTER!

Oz hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Winner of Match #2: Mister Oz!

BAMA: And Oz is shooting two for two thus far!

TODD: Here we go! The end of the gauntlet… Oz has one opponent left!

…



TODD: Oh my! The Impossible Traveler! Betsy Granger!

BAMA: Oh my God! We might get to see some actual gah damn wrasslin’ on this wrasslin’ show!!

“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.

…

MISTER OZ - vs - BETSY GRANGER Gauntlet Match #2 of 3

As the bell rings once more… Betsy spins once, salutes the crowd, then locks eyes with Oz.

Her smile softens.

Because she recognizes the fury simmering beneath his calm, she nods respectfully.

Oz does not nod back.

TODD: Oz seems to be locked in… He’s eager to finish this gauntlet looking like the dominant force he knows he is! But Betsy is almost certainly the toughest of his three opponents thus far!

Betsy bounces lightly on her toes, eyes bright with curiosity.

Oz steps forward, eager to grapple Betsy!

But Betsy grips under his arm, sidestepping out of reach before she snaps a sharp karate-style low kick into Oz’s thigh.

The crack echoes!

Oz’s jaw tightens. His leg flexes!

TODD: Deft quickness and calculated precision there from Betsy!

BAMA: All that did was piss Oz off!

Oz surges forward with an explosive burst looking for a crushing shoulder tackle meant to flatten her.

Betsy’s eyes widen — delighted, not afraid.

She pivots sideways and lands a crisp single-leg dropkick to his knee as he passes.

Oz drops briefly to one knee!

TODD: Smart targeting! She’s chopping down the base! Like a matador bringing down a bull, one charge at a time!

BAMA: She better keep movin’ or she’s getting GORED!

---

Oz rises slowly, nostrils flaring.

He lunges for a grapple… and grabs Granger’s wrist.

Betsy’s grin flickers into surprise.

TODD: Uh oh! Oz has Betsy in a wristlock now!

BAMA: Ozzy’s about to swat that astronaut into the stratosphere!

Betsy quickly circle-steps to keep Oz from grapple her into a sideheadlock…

Oz tries to yank her closer!

…But Betsy twists into a seamless armwringer, spinning under his arm and wrenching the wrist sharply.

Oz’s face tightens. He jerks his arm free, and breaks into another sprint, rebounding off the opposite ropes!

He fires a brutal big boot.

Betsy ducks under it and springs up—

Her eyes gleam mischievously.

She leaps for a…

PLANTE DE VISAGE!

TODD: Betsy looking for a sudden win!

Oz’s eyes flash.

…And he blocks mid-air and muscles her upward, slamming her down with a thunderous body slam.

The ring shakes!

Betsy gasps, blinking stars from her vision.

TODD: Oof! Oz proves just too strong!

---

Oz looms over a prone Betsy....

TODD: Betsy’s gotta make a move soon!

BAMA: Or Oz is gonna pick through her bones like a vulture!

Oz pulls the Impossible Traveler up to her feet!

Betsy winces, but her eyes sharpen.

Because she refuses to be another stepping stone, she suddenly fires a tight semi-circular kick into his ribs.

Oz grunts.

She follows with a quick reverse roundhouse kick to the jaw.

Oz staggers back two steps.

TODD: Betsy, changing together strikes here!

BAMA: But Oz is still standing!

Betsy exhales hard.

Oz goes for a HUGE lariat!

But Granger ducks under… and traps his arm…

She brings him down to the mat with a leg trip! And secures a tight bridging Fujiwara armbar, trapping his arm and arching her hips upward.

Oz’s eyes widen in pain.

His submission weakness is exposed.

Bama T: “That’s trouble! Oz don’t like gettin’ bent like that!”

Because panic threatens to surface, Oz powers his legs underneath him and brute-forces himself to his feet, lifting Betsy while still trapped.

Her eyes widen.

Because strength disparity is real, she releases and rolls free before he can slam her.

---

The two circle…

TODD: Both these competitors look like they’re eager to wrap this one up!

BAMA: Oz especially! This is his third match of the night!

Betsy fires off another kick to the chest!

…But Oz catches it! And spins Betsy! He takes Betsy from behind, waistlock…

GERMAN SUPLEX!

Granger crashes hard, neck against the mat!

Oz keeps the grip.

TODD: “He’s going for the Sextuple! Oz’s patented sextuple german suplex!

BAMA: It’s been a while since we’ve seen it! Betsy’s about to get ground into space dust!

Oz hauls her up again.

Oz arches back for the second German—

…But Betsy’s eyes snap open.

Granger wedges her foot behind his ankle and hooks his wrist mid-lift.

She spins inside his grip—

Her arm snakes around his neck.

Her other arm traps his wrist.

Oz’s eyes widen.

Betsy e locks in the Cobra Clutch.

And a With a sudden, fluid twist, she sweeps his leg and drops him backward in one violent motion!

DOWN!

YOU!

GO!

TODD: Down you go! From outta nowhere!

Oz slams flat on his back.

The wind blasts from him.

Betsy floats over instantly, hooking the leg, clutch still tight.

ONE!

Oz’s eyes flare with shock.

TWO!

His arm twitches.

THREE!

Winner: Betsy Granger!

The crowd erupts.

Betsy releases and rolls away, panting, then laughs breathlessly in disbelief.

TODD: A statement win for Betsy Granger! Oz looked in top form tonight, eager to shake off his showing last Anarchy, but Betsy Granger demonstrated tonight why she’s one of the most celebrated stars in the XWF!





https://youtu.be/wFodog4zZlY?feature=shared


The stage alights in red. Smoke gathers around the stage. Gods by Sleep Token plays as XXXVI appears, rising up out of the red lights amidst the smoke, his hands gathered in prayer. He steps out onto the stage and takes in the mixed reaction from the crowd. He shakes his out his head and shoulders and begins to walk down the ramp, hands still in prayer pose. Then from behind him, appears CIX. She follows him down the ramp. Half way down, he spreads his hands apart and reaches out both arms in T-Pose as he crouches, sauntering down the rest of the ramp toward the ring. He climbs onto the apron, outstretches his arms and then enters, rolling backward over the top rope and spins toward the center of the ring, arms outstretched like a helicopter. He then sits, cross legged in the dead center of the ring, hands once again in prayer pose and bows his head. Full black again, then a single, red cone of light bathes him in the ring as fire explodes out of each turnbuckle. Outside the ring, CIX surveys the crowd as they await the match starting.

TODD: We’ve said it before and we’ll say it again, but XXXVI is creeping ever closer to eclipsing Matthias Syn’s record with the Revolution Championship.

BAMA: Hell yeah he is. You know, I didn’t think much of this guy when he first debuted, just another weirdo in a mask. But man was I wrong. XXXVI has been damn impressive.

TODD: Although tonight it could be said that he doesn’t exactly have a challenge commensurate with that impressiveness.

BAMA: Yeah, even I can’t polish this turd….



Bobby Sales steps out onto the ramp, wearing a headset and holding up a package of customized XWF ShamWOW towels.

BOBBY: Alright, alright, alright people of….uh…..this town. Hold onto your asses because I’m going to blow your minds with the unbridled soaking power of ShamWOW here tonight!

Bobby keeps walking until he gets into the ring. XXXVI cants his head as Bobby enters, perhaps in amusement. It’s tough to tell.

BOBBY: ShamWOW is more than just a simple towel. It tackles the very toughest of messes with ease. Dog shit on the floor? ShamWOW it! Baby barf on the new couch? ShamWOW it. Creepy foreigner in a mask bleeding all over your ring? ShamWOW it!

Bobby glowers at XXXVI as he utters this last line and the champ just shakes his head disdainfully as the bell rings. Bobby carefully places the package of ShamWOW’s on top of the corner turnbuckle, but XXXVI wastes no time! He rushes Bobby as he’s turned around and pulls him up and over into a german suplex.

TODD: This match starting about how we all expected it to I think!

BAMA: Bobby Sales has a huge hill to climb here.

Bobby skitters into the opposite corner and XXXVI approaches him and pulls back a fist menacingly. Bobby curls up in a defensive position instinctively which seems to draw a laugh from XXXVI.

BOBBY: Oh you think this is funny?

Bobby gets up defiantly.

BOBBY: I’m gonna bleed you like a stuck pig you….

But Bobby doesn’t even get to finish his thought. XXXVI pops him in the mouth before hitting him with a deep arm drag which he then transitions into a seated arm bar.

BOBBY: Ahhhh! OWOWOWOW! Stay with me….*grunts*....folks, even in this….OOOWWWWWW….predicament I am the king of sales!

TODD: I think XXXVI is getting sick of this guy already, he’s releasing the hold and going towards the edge of the ring where….uh oh…CIX hands XXXVI a chain in full view of the ref!

BAMA: Is that legal?!

The ref moves to intervene, ordering XXXVI to give up the chain, saying the match is First Blood and not Xtreme. Being the rational sort, XXXVI gives up the chain to the ref….but Bobby snatches it immediately, pushes the ref aside and decks XXXVI with the chain! The champ reels.

BAMA: Wait…is that….is that….blood?!

Indeed, there is a spatter of blood rolling out from under the champ’s mask. It impacts on the canvas, and Bobby books it for the package of ShamWOW’s he left before and opens up the package feverishly.

But XXXVI is not out! He grabs hold of Bobby’s hair and smashes his face into the turnbuckle, once, twice, thrice! But it still hasn’t drawn blood! Then, out of sheer frustration, XXXVI starts removing the pad on the turnbuckle. The ref tries to intervene but XXXVI points to the chain on the mat as if to say “fair is fair”. The ref shrugs and allows it! XXXVI finishes removing the turnbuckle pad, grabs Bobby and prepares to plunge his face into the steel exposed turnbuckle….but Bobby blocks! He hits XXXVI with a back elbow! Bobby turns around and throws a wild haymaker at the champ….but XXXVI blocks and lays into Bobby with a haymaker of his own! XXXVI then grabs hold of Bobby’s head and plunges his face into the exposed steel! A huge laceration opens up on Bobby’s forehead!

BAMA: Oh damn, thats grisly!

TODD: Bobby is bleeding all over the place!

XXXVI backs off as Bobby stumbles out of the corner.

BOBBY: Yes….that’s….uh….right…folks….if you call in the next…..*urp*....uhhhh….

Bobby starts looking woozy as the blood cascades down his face in a crimson mask.

BOBBY: What…what was I saying? Oh don’t worry….about me…issssjussssalittlescrape…..

XXXVI picks up the package of ShamWOWS and pulls one out. He looks at the amassing pool of blood and then decides to pull out a few more for good measure.

BOBBY: It’s….*gag*............not jussss a sham issss a shamWOW….why….why do I….feel so….sleepy….

That’s about when Bobby passes right out, going flat on his back. XXXVI looks at his downed opponent and then gets to work on the pool of blood from his opponent.

TODD: He’s cleaning Bama! And I have got to hand it to ShamWOW those things have some amazing absorbing power. Unbelievable.

BAMA: And I think….I think he’s done!

The ref inspects the canvas and, seeing it thoroughly cleaned by the undisputed king of shammy cloths, calls for the bell!

Your winner….by virtue of the pinnacle of modern cleaning technology…..XXXVI!

There it is. The first blood spills from the face of Bobby Sales.

The crowd roars in approval.

XXXVI calls to the referee for the XWF branded ShamWow. This one is over.

And then…

Darkness.

The arena lights cut out completely.

No sound except confused murmurs in the crowd and the shuffling of bodies in the ring.

Three seconds.

The lights snap back on.

XXXVI is standing where he was.

Bobby Sales is still bleeding profusely. His eyes glazed over from the head trauma.

The canvas splattered with sweat and wear. In the center of the ring, smeared almost ritualistically, in the fresh blood of Bobby Sales, is the number 33.

The numbers are large. Maybe 3 feet tall, and look like they were drawn with a limp body being dragged. The blood is wet, almost shining under the lights.

No one saw it happen.

The referee stares in disbelief.

The fans in the front rows are no longer cheering. They sit silent. A mix of horror and uneasy fascination on their faces. Some pointing, others with their hands over their mouths. Children simply staring, frozen.

TODD: What the hell is that, Bama?!? 33? What does that mean?!?

BAMA: Someone’s sending a numerical message to 36! Though, maybe it’s something that only Mister 36 can understand!

XXXVI looks down at the number…

As the feed cuts to commercial…


TODD: Folks, this next match is filled to the brim with talent!

BAMA: And that talent is contained in just two of the three competitors! Which says a lot about Page and Blade!

TODD: Now, now, Bama! Furry is coming off an incredible win last Anarchy over Mister Oz! And she’s technically undefeated, since she won her only other match, a 3-on-2 handicap where she, Peter Parkor and Micheal Graves (allegedly) beat Madison Dyson and Misty Waters…

BAMA: Two flukes! And we’re about to correct the score right here!



S&M By Rhianna will play throughout the arena as the crowd cheers while Summer walks down the aisle. Summer gets to the ring side and walks up the ring stairs. Summer looks out at the crowd and raises her arms out to the crowd as the crowd cheers louder.

TODD: Summer Page is one of the most dominant stars in all of Anarchy! An incredible singles record, one of the most talented people to ever wrestle on Thursday nights!

BAMA: No doubt, Toddrick! Summer is pure technical excellence! But she’s got a real opponent tonight! Someone who’s traveled the world over and wrestled on every continent! Can she get the job done?

Summer turns her attention to inside the ring where she motions to the referee to open the bottom and middle ropes so they can enter. Summer walks over to the closest ring corner and climbs up to the middle turnbuckle.

…



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!

TODD: There he is! The “Surgeon of Thug”! The “Chain Gang”! John Blade!

BAMA: That Blade boy is an odd fella! Some loathe him! Some can’t get enough of him! But ya can’t deny, he’s a whiskey shot of personality and a phenom in the ring!

TODD: John Blade shocked the world on Warfare and defeated XWF Legend Barney Green AND recent Star of the Month Razor Blade to advance to the March Madness Quarterfinal! A huge accomplishment! But can he ride that wave tonight against Summer Page!

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]

…



The lights dim as the opening drums of She's My Collar roll through the arena. Miss Furry steps out slowly, but doesn’t acknowledge the crowd.

TODD: Miss Furry! The original Student of Gravy! Certainly one of the least typical wrestlers on Anarchy!

BAMA: Some say she can’t wrestle! Some say she’s built like a couch potato who goes to the Planet Fitness twice a week, mostly on free pizza and free bagel days! Some say she doesn’t belong in the ring with trained professionals!

…

BAMA: And those people are correctamundo, Toddy!

TODD: Oh c’mon, Bama! Say what you will about Furry, but you can’t deny her record in the ring! Not only undefeated, but she scored an impressive victory over Mister Oz, known for being a physically dominant specimen! Furry’s never competed in a triple-threat match before, it will be interesting to see how she adapts to a new environment!

She calmly walks the ramp and slips between the ropes with minimal effort. She settles into the corner, leaning back casually, licking her paw and cleaning herself in preparation of the upcoming match.

…

All three opponents find a corner and stare each other down…

TODD: Triple-Threat. X-Treme Rules. No disqualifications, no countouts, and no safety net.

BAMA: And two of these three are thoroughbreds, Todd. The other one’s a mangy alley cat tryin’ not to get run over!

John Blade’s jaw tightens, nostrils flaring as he scans the ring with that unmistakable half-smirk — half confidence, half challenge. His shoulders roll back, chest puffed out, absorbing the roar of the divided crowd. The kids scream. The older fans boo. He thrives on it.

Across from him, Summer Page’s lips curl in disdain. Her chin lifts a fraction too high, eyes narrowing with clinical focus. She adjusts her wrist tape with slow precision — a queen annoyed she must share space with peasants.

Miss Furry stands between them, eyes flicking back and forth. Her breathing is steady, shoulders relaxed — but her pupils dart, calculating.

The bell CLANGS.

SUMMER PAGE - vs - MISS FURRY - vs - JOHN BLADE X-TREME RULES TRIPLE THREAT!

HIGHLIGHT REEL

Blade’s smirk sharpens as he steps forward and throws his forearm up, inviting the lock-up.

Summer’s expression hardens, pride pricked by the gesture. She steps in immediately.

They collide.

Collar-and-elbow tie-up — and the sound of muscle against muscle echoes.

Blade’s teeth grit, veins bulging in his neck as he drives forward with raw power. His boots churn against the canvas as he muscles Summer backward toward the ropes.

Summer’s eyes flash irritation at being moved. Her lips purse with defiance as she pivots her hips, slipping her arm under his — transitioning smoothly into a snap wrist control.

Todd: “Technical counter from Summer!”
Bama T: “That girl ain’t just spoiled, she’s schooled.”

Blade’s face twists in surprise as she torques the joint — so he reacts with stubborn fury, yanking free and immediately exploding forward—

Running leaping shoulder block.

Summer’s eyes widen just before impact — her body folding backward violently as she hits the mat and rolls to her side, coughing.

The crowd erupts.

Blade spreads his arms wide, feeding on it — but his showboating grin falters when he notices Summer already pushing to a knee, jaw clenched, hair falling across her face.

She looks insulted.

---

Blade and Summer are circling in the center of the ring… With Furry shuffling around them.

TODD: Thus far, Blade and Summer have been entirely focused on each other!

BAMA: Lucky for Furry! The second they notice here, that housecat’s gonna get spayed and neutered by these two angry apex predators!

Suddenly, John and Summer lock-up!

Summer springs upward and drives a sharp High Knee into Blade’s jaw.

Blade’s head snaps back, sweat flying — and his confident grin disappears into a stunned scowl. He staggers back into the ropes…

And explodes forward! A big shoulder block takes Summer to the mat!

Miss Furry’s brow furrows.

She steps in cautiously, seeing an opening.

TODD: And Miss Furry is stepping up! She said she’d wait for her moment to strike!

Her lips press thin with determination as she darts in — arm drag into a grounded headlock on Summer.

Summer’s expression turns cold and irritated — almost offended — as she rolls her hips and kips partially upward, slipping behind Furry.

TODD: Uh oh! I think Furry overestimated her ability to keep Summer contained to the mat! She’s in no man’s land now!

BAMA: Anywhere within Summer’s reach is no man’s land for Miss Furry!

With a sharp inhale through her nose, Summer executes a Snap German Suplex.

Furry’s body whiplashes across the mat…

TODD: Good grief!

BAMA: That’s what happens when a street rat wanders into heavy traffic!

Furry’s fingers twitch. Her face tightens — not angry, not panicked — thinking…

TODD: Furry, in pain, but very visibly calculating her next move…

She rolls to her side…

Under the bottom rope…

And falls to the outside.

[blue]BAMA: Smartest thing she’s done all night.

---

Summer brushes hair from her face, eyes scanning. She studies Blade. Measures him.

Blade wipes his mouth, irritated that Summer’s still standing. He motions with his hand.

Summer’s lips curl again.

She charges.

Chick Kick—

Blade ducks.

He whirls—

Lou Thesz Press! Taking Summer to the mat!

He rains down rights and lefts.

Summer’s face tightens in fury beneath the blows. Her forearms rise defensively — but she shifts her hips.

She manages to grip Blade around the head… And judo throw him up and over her!

Blade somersaults! Spins around!

Jawbreaker from Summer!

Blade staggers back, clutching his mouth.

Summer pops up instantly.

Tilt-A-Whirl into a Russian Leg Sweep!

Both crash down.

Blade rolls through the impact, shaking his head in frustration.

Miss Furry sticks one leg under the ropes like she’s weighing dipping her toe back into the pool of competition.

But when Summer and Blade both spring up, she quickly pulls back out, circling the ring cautiously… eyes track her opponents like prey animals.

TODD: Furry contented to let this one play out for a while.

BAMA: Maybe she should get a chair and watch how actual wrestlers do it! Maybe pull out a notebook, take some notes!

---

Summer and Blade are caught in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, each jockeying for control…

Outside, Miss Furry’s eyes flick toward the steel steps… then the timekeeper’s area… then beneath the ring apron. Her lips purse thoughtfully.

TODD: I think Miss Furry has decided it’s time for this X-Treme Rules match to get X-TREME! we remind you — this is X-Treme Rules!

BAMA: Finally, Furry’s doing something useful around here!

Furry bends down, reaches under the apron, and slides a kendo stick under the bottom rope.

Inside the ring, Summer shoves Blade back against the ropes in a surprising burst of strength! She beckons Blade to come at her again focused… not noticing the kendo stick skidding across the canvas behind her.

Blade does.

His eyes widen slightly — then narrow with a predatory grin.

He feints going for another lockup… Summer goes to meet him!

But at the last moment, Blade somersaults under Summer’s grapple, and grabs the kendo stick!

Summer turns — her expression shifting from irritation… to realization.

Blade swings.

Summer’s eyes flash with urgency — she ducks.

FWSH!

The stick whistles over her head.

Blade adjusts, jaw tightening in annoyance.

He swings again.

Summer backpedals, boots scraping canvas, dodging left, then right, each near miss accompanied by the hiss of bamboo slicing air.

TODD: Summer narrowly avoiding those strikes!

BAMA: She keeps dancin’, but eventually that music’s gonna stop!

Blade snarls and steps in closer — this time there’s no space to evade.

CRACK!

The kendo stick smashes across Summer’s back.

Her mouth opens in a silent scream, spine arching violently as she collapses forward to her knees.

Outside the ring, Furry’s eyes sharpen — opportunity forming… she reaches under the apron again…

Inside, Blade advances, face twisted with ruthless confidence. He raises the kendo stick again and drives Summer backward into the corner.

She winces, clutching her back — trapped.

Blade pulls the stick back for another vicious strike—

But Summer’s expression changes.

Pain gives way to clarity.

She drops suddenly, rolling under his arm and slipping out of the corner.

Blade turns—

—and at that exact moment, Miss Furry slides a trash can lid into the ring.

Summer sees it.

Her eyes widen with sudden inspiration.

She snatches it up just as Blade squares up—

CLANG!

The lid crashes over Blade’s skull.

His body freezes… then collapses flat on his back.

The arena roars.

TODD: What a shot from Summer Page!

BAMA: He just got served a five-course meal of PAIN — with extra aluminum!

---

Blade and Summer both rise exhaustedly, surrounded by weapons…

BAMA: It’s been an X-Treme war thus far, Toddrick! Both Summer and Blade have been through it!

TODD: Furry has done a masterful job, the moment one of these two starts taking control, throwing another piece of chaos into the ring to keep control of the match in flux!

BAMA: But these two could have broken arms and legs and they could STILL outwrestle Miss Furry, Toddy baby! Eventually, one of them is gonna put the other down and Furry’s either gonna have to sit on her hands and watch or step up and get PUT DOWN!

Blade surges forward for another grapple…

But Summer BOOTS him in the stomach!

Blade doubles above…

Summer’s chest heaves. She stares down at Blade, eyes blazing with vindication.

Now.

She hooks his arms deliberately, expression icy and composed.

She lifts with precision…

Poise…

PURE PERFECTION! (PerfectPlex).

Blade’s shoulders slam flat.

TODD: She hit it! Summer hit Pure Perfection! That’s gonna do it!

Summer floats into the cover, hooking the leg tight.

ONE!

Outside the ring, Furry’s brow furrows.

TWO—

Her eyes dart to Blade’s boot near the ropes.

Decision made.

She lunges and grabs his ankle, subtly looping it around the bottom rope.

THR—

The referee stops.

TODD: Blade’s foot is on the rope!

Summer’s eyes snap open in disbelief. She looks at the rope — sees Blade’s foot draped there — and her face contorts with indignation.

She doesn’t see Furry already jogging around the far side of the ring.

Summer glares down at Blade…

TODD: I don’t think Summer realizes Blade needed some help getting that foot on the rope!

---

Summer drags Blade by the wrists back to the center, irritation fueling her strength.

Blade groans, barely conscious.

Summer steps through his legs.

Her face becomes serene.

Focused.

She turns.

PERFECT 10 (Figure 8 Leg Lock!)

She bridges high, back arched beautifully, torque maximized.

Blade’s face contorts in agony, veins bulging as he claws at the mat.

TODD: PERFECT 10! She’s got it locked in deep!

BAMA: That leg’s twisted like a pretzel at the county fair!

Outside, Miss Furry freezes.

Her eyes go wide.

Blade is trapped. His hands shaking…

Summer’s eyes are closed in concentration, back arched, savoring the torque.

That’s when Furry’s expression shifts.

Calm.

Certain.

Now.

She slides under the bottom rope silently and crawls toward them.

Blade sees her — panic flashes across his face. He tries to swat her away but can’t turn his hips without intensifying the pressure on his knee.

Furry throws herself across his chest… And she grabs Blade’s arms by the wrists so he can’t tap out!

The referee drops.

ONE!

Summer’s eyes flutter open.

Does she think that’s her pinfall?

TWO!

Blade’s hands seize, eager to tap o… But Miss Furry has his arms trapped!

He tries to rise out of the pin… but the Figure 8 has him immobilized.

Summer’s face flickers — confusion dawning.

THREE!

Winner: Miss Furry!

BAMA: MISS FURRY STOLE IT!

TODD: Furry HUNTED that victory! And against all odds, she takes the win!

Summer releases the hold instantly, raising her arms, thinking that must be her pinfall…

..Before the referee crosses his arms, showing there was no submission!

Blade rolls to his side, clutching his knee in agony.

Miss Furry scrambles backward, rolling outside the ring, briefly stunned…

Then realization hits.

Her hand shoots up in victory!





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—

♪ 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.

Bama T: The Anarchy Champion is in the building! The one, the only, the alleged: MICHEAL GRAVES!

Todd: No, you’re got it wrong Bama! This isn’t allegedly Micheal Graves, this is the real deal!

Bama T: Oh no, I’m talking about all the OTHER THINGS that have been alleged of Micheal Graves!

Todd: Oh, you mean like the crimes?

Bama T: Exactly! I think Gravy has racked up charges in almost every county in America! And tonight…he might just pick up a murder charge!



Sir Lionel is rolled down to the ring on a hospital gurney. He looks completely out of it.

Todd: I’m not sure Lionel knows where he is right now! That man should be at home recovering from the vicious injuries Mr. Oz inflicted upon him!

Bama T: It’s called ACTING, Todd! Lionel is just ACTING like he’s crippled and comatose: but that’s all it is….an act, to catch Micheal Graves off guard!

Todd: I’m not sure about the ethics of this one…

In one corner, a dented metal bucket spills over with dollar-store skull masks, smeared eyeliner sticks, a cracked hand mirror, green food coloring, a toy scythe, and what appears to be a rubber bat from a Halloween clearance bin.

In the opposite corner, another bucket—nearly identical—overflows with the same chaotic theatre detritus.

Sir Lionel Pennyfarthing sits propped upright on a hospital gurney, neck brace fastened, one arm theatrically limp at his side. His face is pale with exaggerated agony, jaw trembling as if he’s delivering a monologue to the cheap seats of the Globe Theatre.

Micheal Graves stands across the ring, pacing. His lips curl in disgust. His eyes roll so hard they nearly vanish under the black war paint.

At ringside, Gene Branagh dabs Lionel’s forehead with a monogrammed handkerchief, whispering encouragement like a stage manager before opening night.

TODD: Well folks… this is the ‘ALLEGING’ Micheal Graves Match… and I— I have to admit— isn’t this over the moment the bell rings? The referee can literally see which one is Micheal Graves.

BAMA: Todd, this is the dumbest stipulation I’ve ever seen and I once refereed a Possum-on-a-Pole match in Mobile, Alabama!

TODD: …How did that end up?

BAMA: Mobile, Alabama ended up with a rabies vaccine shortage, that’s how that ended up!

The referee signals for the bell.

DING!

SIR LIONEL PENNYFARTHING - vs - MICHEAL GRAVES © 'ALLEGING' MICHEAL GRAVES MATCH! Each competitor will be given a bucket of props and a costume. Using only the props and costumes provided, they must prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that they are the REAL Micheal Graves by getting the referee to "allege" it. No count outs, no submissions, no pinfalls, and no DQs! May the best actor win!

HIGHLIGHT REEL

The official goes to point to Gr-

FWOOOSH!

The arena lights die.

Pitch black.

A collective gasp ripples through the crowd.

Three full seconds of silence.

Then—

The lights snap back on.

And there are two Micheal Graveses standing in the center of the ring.

Both in identical black gear. Identical smeared eyeliner. Identical greasy hair hanging over their faces. Identical Dark Warrior masks.

Both blink.

Both look around.

Both mouths hang open in confusion.

Their brows furrow in mirrored suspicion.

Slowly… deliberately… they both turn.

And lock eyes.

Simultaneously, they extend an accusatory finger.

“YOU!”

The crowd explodes.

TODD: What in the world—?!

Bama T: What the…?!? I’m seeing double! FOUR GRAVESES!

Both Graveses begin circling, shoulders hunched, lips twitching. One snarls. The other snarls harder. They mimic each other’s movements, like a demonic mirror.

TODD: Folks… I think we previously thought this one would be over quick but… Lionel Pennyfarthing might have a trick or two up his sleeve!

---

The Graves circle each other identically…

Suddenly both stop.

TODD: It’s genuinely like watch mirrored footage! Every single flick of his wrist… every single scowl! They’re both exactly Gravy!

One Graves suddenly claps. Slow. Sarcastic. His lips purse into a smug, self-satisfied grin.

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing with theatrical contempt.

Very cute. Very impressive.

With deliberate flair, he reaches up.

He rips off the Dark Warrior mask.

Underneath—

The unmistakable greasy, scumbag face of Micheal Graves.

The real one.

Dead-eyed stare. Crooked sneer. Smear of black across the cheekbone.

The official’s jaw drops.

He nods instinctively, already raising his hand to ‘allege’ a winner…

TODD: Well that settles it… Good show by Penyfarthing but…

But the other Graves erupts into frantic motion.

His eyes go wide.

His hands flail dramatically.

“WAIT! WAIT!”

He shakes his head violently, as if outraged at the injustice.

He grabs his own mask.

Pauses.

The arena holds its breath.

He rips it off.

The crowd SCREAMS.

It’s the same face.

Same greasy skin sheen.

Same blackened eyes.

Same crooked smirk.

Even the same faint scar under the left eyebrow.

The referee stumbles backward.

TODD: NO. No no no no—

BAMA: That’s him too! That’s Gravy! That’s the same nasty little sewer goblin!

Both Graveses blink.

Both slowly turn their heads toward the referee.

Both smirk.

Then both point at each other again.

“HE’S THE FAKE!

The official looks like a man who regrets every decision that led him here.

---

The two identical Micheal Graveses stand chest-to-chest.

One Graves’ upper lip curls into a furious sneer. His nostrils flare. His eyes twitch with offended pride — the look of a man whose identity has been stolen in front of a live audience.

His fingers flex.

His jaw tightens.

TODD: The referee is trying to decide which of these men to declare the real Micheal Graves…

BAMA: It’s like trying to choose between two identical pictures! They both even smell like Gravy! And yes, when you call a Gravy match, you can smell him all the way from the broadcast booth! The stench is UNFATHOMABLE!

Suddenly, Graves lunges forward — swinging a wild, reckless forearm smash aimed directly at the other Graves’ temple!

TODD: Whoa! Is that the real Gravy? He’s deciding to say ‘fuck it’ and just attack the other one!

The other Graves’ eyes widen, jerks sideways and answers with a savage open-handed slap across the face!

The crack echoes.

TODD: Oh my—!

BAMA: That’s a HEAVY HANDED— well, one of ‘em just slapped the taste outta the other!

TODD: Gravy is famous for his big right-handed smacks! THAT must be the real Gravy!

The first Graves reels, face twisting in humiliation and fury. He snarls, shaking his head like a rabid animal. He retaliates with a sudden thumb jab straight toward the eyes!

TODD: This is… well, despite the odd stipulation, this is still a wrestling match, folks!

The second Graves screams dramatically, staggering backward, clutching his face — but as he drops his hands, a sinister grin spreads across his lips.

His fingers curl mischievously.

With juvenile wickedness flashing in his eyes, he darts forward—

Wet willy.

Right in the ear.

The crowd erupts.

The victimized Graves freezes in horror.

His face contorts in disgust.

He slowly turns his head.

“Did you just—”

He tackles him.

No finesse. No structure. No wrestling holds.

Just feral flailing.

They crash to the mat in a heap of black gear and smeared eyeliner.

Punches fly.

Headbutts glance off foreheads.

One Graves claws at the other’s hair.

The other responds by shoving fingers into nostrils.

TODD: There are no rules against this! There’s no disqualification in this match!

BAMA Todd, you’re still trying to call this like a wrestling match, when it looks like two raccoons fightin’ over a Slim Jim!

The referee rushes in, arms extended, panic across his face.

“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!”

He tries to wedge himself between them.

That was a mistake.

Both Graveses glare up at him simultaneously — offended at the interruption.

In synchronized fury, they shove him aside.

But momentum carries them all together.

The three bodies tangle.

They roll.

Over and over.

Black boots flailing.

Hands clawing.

The referee yelping.

They tumble into the ropes and back toward center ring in a chaotic barrel roll of limbs.

Finally—

One Graves ends up mounted on top.

His face twisted into unhinged triumph.

His teeth bared.

His eyes blazing with the manic certainty of vindication.

He draws his fist back high over his shoulder.

Below him, the other Graves’ eyes flick frantically side to side.

Calculating.

Desperate.

As the fist comes crashing down—

The lower Graves suddenly grabs the referee’s collar.

YANKS him forward.

The mounted punch connects.

Not with his rival.

But squarely with the referee’s jaw.

CRACK.

The official’s body goes limp instantly.

He collapses sideways like a dropped mannequin.

Silence.

The two Graveses freeze.

They slowly look down at the unconscious referee.

Then slowly at each other.

TODD: The referee is out! He’s unconscious!

BAMA:  Well that’s just perfect, Todd! The only man who can ‘allege’ anything is snorin’ on the canvas!

The crowd buzzes in disbelief.

---

The Graves take turns prodding the unconscious official with their toes, like curious kids encountering their first dead body.

TODD: I… what even happens now?

BAMA: It can’t get any dumber than what’s already happened…



Southern Gentleman Detective Clown emerges from the back!

BAMA: …I stand thoroughly corrected.

“Well I do declare!” Southern Gentleman Detective declares as he enters the ring, “TWO MICHEAL GRAVES’S!”

“Am I seeing double? Did my…” He waves his hands flamboyantly. “Mid-afternoon Garibaldi have a touch too much Campari?”

The Graves’ both look at the clown and back at each other.

“Or could there be… An imposter among us?”

TODD: Among Us! I get it.

“Well, this appears to be a case for the world’s greatest detective!”

A masked man stands up in the crowd as Southern Gentleman Detective Clown snaps a look at him.

“Not you, Batman!”

Batman sits down, dejected.

“Me! Southern Gentleman Detective Clown will solve this case quicker than Jenny Myst can lose a title!”

He studies each man deeply, both with identical breathing. Slight unhinged mannerisms. A dense odour. He paces around the ring, his white clown loafers honking southernly.

“One of you here is a fraud and I will deduce which one if the REAL Micheal Graves posthaste! As a matter of fact! Let’s make it a game! You all love games I’m sure!”

“First game.” SGD Clown puts a finger to his lips before pointing. “What’s in your pockets!”

Both Graves’s dig into their tights and pull out whatever is in them. The clown inspects them diligently.

“Hm. Intriguing. You, Left Graves, appear to have a stick of gum and a theatre stub from 1977, a classic Lionel thing to do. But you, Right Graves seem to have the puzzle box from Hellraiser! Quite the conundrum.”

“Second game!”

“Name your one weakness!”

“NONE!”
“MYSELF!”

They say at the same time. SGD Clown nods along.

“Interesting… One seems to be from an actual belief, one from studying endlessly! Curioser and curiouser.”

“Last game.”

He looks closely at each man and clears his throat.

“At the world’s stage-”

And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages- … Oh…

The detective nods with a smirk.

“No thespian could ever resist the words of Olde English Poet Clown. I have cracked the case! In fact! I knew it from the start, when you showed your hands after putting them in your pockets!”

“The REAL Micheal Graves’ hands were as wet as toad in a sauna! So let’s find out who is really under this mask!”

SDG Clown pulls the mask of the imposter exposing none other than- THE AUDIENCE GASPS!

TODD: *gasp* Old Man Pennyfarthing!?

Winner - Micheal Graves

“And I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for you meddling Space Clowns!”

“What did I do?” Replies a clown in an astronaut outfit.






A chorus of boos reigns down as the world's richest man, Elon Musk, rides on his segway down to the ring, his nose stuck firmly in the air as he does. An army of aids and staff, including GM Dick Lichter, walks out from behind the curtain, but are left in a trail of dust as Elon quickly makes his way to the ring. He walks up the steel steps and looks at the ring. He looks back at his staff, who quickly pick up the pace, and two interns jump onto the apron and hold the ring ropes open for him. He gently steps into the ring as the boos continue. The rest of his army of aids step in with him and one hands him a mic. He does to speak, but the Canadian crowd drowns him out with boos.

BAMA: Now this is just disrespectful. This is the boss, baby!

TODD: Elon Musk, famously not a fan of Canada, and they are showing him that the feeling is mutual.

MUSK: You know, it's behavior like this that confirms that the United States should make you a state. You obviously can't govern yourselves.

The crowd boo's loudly again as an "Asshole! Asshole" chant begins.

TODD: Canada going old school with that one.

BAMA: Canada proving why Mr. Musk is right.

MUSK: Now lets get this over with because I don't want to be in this place for longer than I have to be. As you all may know, in two weeks, we will be having a very special episode of Anarchy - a 25th Anniversary celebration for Centurion in New Jersey. I'm pleased to announce that that show is officially SOLD OUT! We're going to give that crowd a show they deserve - MUCH better than the show we're putting on for these unruly thugs in Canada.

The crowd showers Musk with boo's once again, and some fans even begin tossing cups towards the ring, though Musk's team of security and staff are able to shield him from anything.

MUSK: And the main event will feature the hometown man himself, the Television Champion, Centurion, taking on an absolute LEGEND in this business! A man...I am here to honor tonight.

Still more boos, but a lot more muted this time.

MUSK: I am a fair man. I believe in giving the people what they want. The people of Atlantic City wanted to celebrate Centurion's career, and by gosh, I'm going to give them that opportunity; however, TRUE American fans - REAL fans of professional wrestling, want nothing more than to see Centurion lying in a puddle of his own blood in front of his hometown crowd. And the man who is going to do that...is here tonight. He is a man who won NINE World Championships across many companies during an illustrious, Hall of Fame career. He is the MASTER of the Adina Lock, one of the most skilled technicians on the planet, and someone whom I hope to, one day...consider my friend. Ladies and gentlemen, my guest of honor, "GODLY" KEN DAVISON!

Musk points up the ramp way with a smile, but no music plays. Nothing appears on the tron. Nothing happens. Musk nervously laughs as he looks over at Lichter.

Musk: What's going on?

"Hey! Jackass!"

The tron finally does come to life, but instead of Ken Davison, it reveals Centurion, standing outside in the snow, wearing a large winter coat. The crowd goes up in a huge roar as Centurion speaks.

Centurion: I'm sorry, but I don't think Ken got your invitation. See, he has better things to do than to be showing up on wrestling shows and kissing your ass, knowing full well you'll just discard him the moment you think he's no longer valuable to you. So really, you banned me from the building for absolutely no reason; however, I don't mind. It gets me an opportunity to enjoy the cool, brisk Canadian weather. Oh, and I also got to meet someone really cool.

Centurion walks over a few steps to a man also wearing a winter coat. He is wearing a name tag that says "Hello, My Name Is Guðrún Guðmundsdóttir."

Centurion: This is my new friend...

Centurion glances down at the name.

Centurion: ...nope, not trying that. He is a visitor here in Canada. Came all the way from Iceland just to watch some professional wrestling, and YOU, Elon, decided to keep his favorite wrestler from being in the building tonight. So, I wanted to take old...Gunner...here for a ride. Give him an opportunity to really take in the Halifax experience. Oh...and we borrowed your car.

The two walks a few more feet and the camera pans out to see Musk's white Tesla sitting in a small crevice between two rock faces. Elon's face now turns to rage as he points to the screen and screams indiscriminately at his staff.

Centurion: It's really weird, because you own a GIANT fleet of Tesla's, and yet you decide to ride in an older model. Weird. It's almost like you don't trust the people of Canada SO MUCH that you're not willing to put a Cybertruck in harms way. That's sad...though I guess, given the current circumstances, I guess you were right to do so. Gun...dum, tell Elon about the car.

Guðrún, speaking in a very thick accent, begins to speak.

Guðrún: Yeah, so uh, this is older model, not too good in snow. We take car for trip and we think maybe battery get wet? We started smelling some kind of gas from the car. Is...not good.

Centurion: And while I could very easily just drive this thing to a shop, it turns out, you've made all this technology so proprietary that simple, local shops aren't able to handle these things, not to mention the digital locks you place on the equipment that make it so local vendors have to pay a MASSIVE fee just to diagnose the thing. So...we've decided to just...leave it out here. But, we're not one for littering, are we, Gunnery? So what did we do.

Guðrún: We decide to put 30 kilogram of explosive around the car, with many blasting cap inside. The blasting cap break the windows, and the large explosive make giant bang. 40% more efficient than dynamite.

Musk: HEY! DON'T YOU DARE! I'LL SEE YOU THROWN IN JAIL IF YOU DO THAT!

Centurion: Sorry Musky, I didn't catch a word of that, it's really windy out here. I'm going to just assume to say some stupid shit, to which my response is...Viola!



The crowd roars as Elon stands in shock!

BAMA: NO! That's a $75,000 Tesla!

TODD: It was!

Centurion: WOAH BOY that was a big one! You could feel that blast from Saskatoon! Anyway, me and Gunther here are going to go catch a ride to the bars now. I hope you can make it out, Elon! Tell you what, I'll call you an Uber. Ta ta!

The feed cuts and Elon grabs Lichter by the collar and starts screaming "DO SOMETHING!" to him.

TODD: What an explosive message by Centurion to one of the bosses of the company.

BAMA: Too soon, Todd! Too soon!



All 3 men and 3 clowns stand in the ring, except Ennui Clown who is face down on the mat.

Gallows land on one side of the ring, delicious cream pies on the other.

BAMA: I see you eyeing up them pies, baby!

TODD: I skipped lunch!

BAMA: Yeah skipped it straight to dinner! HA!

The ref looks between all the competitors.

BAMA: Gotta say, Todd, is this the weirdest Anarchy main event you’ve ever seen?

TODD: Anarchy? Yeah, maybe. Around 10 years ago? … Sadly the norm.

DING! DING! DING!

CLOWNS R' US SCHADENFREUDE CLOWN, ENNUI CLOWN, & ENIGMATIC CLOWN - vs - THE KINGSGUARD KINGSGUARD #7, KINSGUARD #8, & KINGSGUARD #9 HANG THE JESTERS MATCH! Each Kingsguard will be given a noose. Each Clown will be given a pie. The only way The Kingsguard can win, is by stringing up all the clowns from a hanging post in the middle of the ring. The only way Clowns R' Us can win, is by eating all 3 pies before all 3 Clowns are hanged. 1 RP per team @ 2,000 words

The moment the bell rings, the Kingsguard all dive for the clowns!

The one going after Schadenfreude Clown, Kingsguard #7, trips on a banana peel!

”Jaaaaaa, how foolish you look, how embarrassing!”

TODD: You know I’ve heard Schadenfreude Clown actually draws strength from human humiliation like Superman draws strength from Earth’s yellow sun.

BAMA: …Toddrick, can I ask who told you that?

TODD: …Schadenfreude Clown?

BAMA: And do you think he told you that because he knew how stupid you’d look saying it into a microphone?

TODD: …

Kingsguard #9 meanwhile goes to force Enigmatic Clown into a grapple…

But Enigmatic Clown hands him… a typewriter?

TODD: …What?

Kingsguard #9 looks down at it, while Enigmagic Clown hands him a cypher and a coded message…

Kingsguard #9 scratches his head… what? Enigmatic Clown starts clapping at him, ordering him to get to it!

Kingsguard #9… perplexed, but he begins deciphering the message character by character…

Meanwhile, meanwhile, Kingsguard #8 approaches Ennui Clown… who is lying facedown on the mat…

TODD: Oh my! His two clown partners are fending off their kingsguard counterparts, but Ennui Clown looks like a sitting duck out here…

Kingsguard #8 looms…

Ennui Clown lets out a defeated exhale…

…

Kingsguard #8!

…

Sits down next to Ennui Clown… And they stare wistfully forward…

BAMA: …Todd, what the H-E-double-FUCK is going around here?

TODD: Um… well, it’s important to remember the Kingsguard had a near-death experience leading up to this match… It’s possible that… a thing like that makes you question… what all this is even for? What are they doing with their lives?

…

TODD: What am I doing with my life?

BAMA: Todd, stop looking at Ennui Clown for a second, he’s like a vacuum of depression.

Kingsguard #7 forces himself back up right… And comes face to face with Schadenfreude Clown!

Kingsguard #7 reels back his fist, looking for a forearm smash…

But as he winds back, he knocks over…

An urn containing his grandmother’s ashes, precariously perched on the top turnbuckle!

TODD: An urn containing his grandmother’s ashes? How did that even get there?!?

BAMA: Nana #7’s always with Kingsguard #7… Oh this would break her heart!

”Ohhhhhh, your nah-nah hast fallen to che ground! How absolutely trah-gic!”

Schadenfreude Clown chortles with delight… Kingsguard #7 rushes to scoop Nana #7’s ashes into his hands and find some place to contain them temporarily… Schadenfreude Clown has a clear road to a pie! …But he waves it off, delighting in tormenting this poor fool!

TODD: Not 100% sure the Clowns want to win this match!

BAMA: Clowns aren’t like me and you, Toddrick! Their only aim is to wreak chaos upon decent people! Vote YES on Proposition 117 and make clowns ILLEGAL!

Mean-to-the-while, Kingsguard #9 finally finishes decoding Enigmatic Clown’s cypher…

He squints at the message… He turns it over in his hands…

It’s…

Lines to a play?

Enigmatic Clown claps at him from outside the ring! Where he’s set up a makeshift stage!

“Have you even memorized your lines yet?!?”

Kingsguard #9 looks down… As clown hands surge from the sides, adorning his golden armor…

With long golden locks and a trident, looking like Brunhilda from Der Ring des Nibelungen...

Kingsguard #9, absolutely lost, shuffles over to the stage and begins singing a shockingly beautiful aria… with Enigmatic Clown conducting a symphony to perfection!

TODD: …What the hell is Enigmatic Clown’s deal even, Bama?

BAMA: It remains an enigma, Toddy baby!

Whilst meaning while, Kingsguard #8 and Ennui Clown are sitting, lying back on the mat, staring at the rafters…

”Do you ever think about what happens when we die?”

”On my planet, when you die, your remains get shoved into a big egg and a few minutes later, the egg dings and a baby clown pops out.”

”...Whoa. So… is the dead clown reincarnated into a baby clown? Is it the same clown?”

”...I don’t know. Babies can’t talk so we can’t ask them. And by the time they grow up, they don’t remember.”

TODD: I once had a goldfish named Barney. My mom told me he ran away… Do you think he went into a big egg and became a younger fish, Bama?

BAMA: Camera team, I will pay you good American money to not cut back to those two for the rest of the match.

Elihwnaem (which is meanwhile backwards), Kingsguard #7 has finished scooping Nana #7’s ashes into a plastic bag…

He puts it in his pocket for safekeepi-

…A tearing sound!

Oh no! The plastic bag got caught on his car keys!

”Oh nooooooooo, ze con-tay-nah you used to con-tay-uhn your nah-nah has been torn a-sun-dah… Oh nooooooooo!”

Schadenfreude Clown is absolutely beside himself with delight!

TODD: I hate Schadenfreude Clown’s shit-eating grin.

BAMA: Careful, Todd! If you anger that clown, he’s gonna find a way to make you eat actual shit and then laugh about it!

Schadenfreude Clown laughs wholeheartedly standing over Kingsguard #7…

Kingsguard #7… seethes furiously… he reaches into his pocket…

And hucks a cloud of dear nana into Schadenfreude’s eyes!

But he tanks it! Small windshield wipers dropping down from his brow and swiping the ashes away!

“Vow! You actually threw your nah-nah at me? Dat iz disrespectful, no?”

#7 tightens his fists and roars in anger.

“I’m sick of these fucking clowns!” He looks behind himself, “#8 can you do SOMETHING!?”

Kingsguard #8 looks down at him atop a paper mache mountain wielding a shield and spear. “I’m busy, #7! If I don’t nail my part I’m going to lose my role to Understudy Clown and Romantic Interest Clown will NEVER go out with me!”

Enigmatic Clown paces around #8 whilst wearing the tightest black t-shirt known to clownkind and keeps clapping. “Not my tempo!” He lets out before hurling a cymbal at Kingsguard #8’s head which clatters wildly into the crowd.

Schadenfruede Clown doubles over laughing at this as Kingsguard #7 looks over to Kingsguard #9 who is smoking a cigarette beside Ennui Clown.

“It’s fucked man! This guy just won’t leave us alone! He’s got super powers or something, I’m scared for my life most days!”

#9 takes a long drag of the cigarette.

“Wow… That sucks…You ever think about quitting?”

“A little, but it’s good pay and I travel a lot which is nice. Plus, dental!”

TODD: I don’t get dental… Man, I eat a lot of sugar too and my teeth are gonna crumble. Plus I’m fat!

Bama hurls a bunch of Xbux at the cameraman.

BAMA: FOCUS ON SOMEONE ELSE!

Kingsguard #7 is stunned before he looks up at Schadenfruede Clown.

“What the fuck is happening!? You’re not even trying to win! Your pies are untouched! Do you want us to suffer?”

Schadenfreude Clown smiles widely, “Vat do you think?”

Kingsguard #7 sneers under his golden helmet and in a fit of rage throws a punch into the clown’s groin!

Schadenfreude doubles over in pain and drops to the mat!

“OH! MEIN WEISSWURST!”

Kingsguard #7 hops up in joy!

“HA! Not funny when you’re the one suffering is it!?”

“Nein! Zat’s like ze whole point. Uggghghghg!”

“Guys!” #7 turns around to his teammates, “I know their weakness! Punch them really hard in the dick!”

Kingsguard #8 looks up as light jazz plays around him, stuck in an artsy black and white French film with Enigmatic Clown beside him, both sipping coffee.

#8 hurls the coffee in the clown’s face and punches down into his groin but Enigmatic Clown simply crosses his legs and hides the pain. Acting real nonchalant and not like he’s hurting at all. We go to a close up of his face, still in black and white and he whispers “Le Mort.”

Kingsguard #8 rips off his beret and joins #7.

At the same time, Kingsguard #9 hears what #7 yelled and looks down at Ennui Clown who sighs deeply.

“Sigh… It’s fine… Go ahead.

Ennui slowly rolls over to his back.

“It’s been nice talking, sorry, man.”

And #9 wallops him in the sad sack.

Actually finally in control of the match, The Kingsguard throw military hand signs and organise themselves to grab the ropes and lasso the nooses over the clowns necks!

They begin simultaneously pulling them up to the rafters!

TODD: Jesus, this is brutal.

BAMA: It’s certainly not funny!

CLOWN: BY CLOWN GAWD! BY CLOWN GAWD! WILL SOMEBODY STOP THE DAMN MATCH!

TODD: What the fuck?

In between Todd and Bama sits a clown in a cowboy hat and tiny glasses.

BAMA: Who’s this clown?

CLOWN: I’m Good Ol’ Play-by-Play Clown! And I’m here to call out THIS TRAVESTY OF A MATCH![/blue]

The sound of a gavel honking down echoes throughout the arena, and the ring is replaced with… A court room?

Kingsguards #7, #8 & #9 sit at a defendant’s table next to a clown in a suit who is sorting his papers.

“All rise!” Bailiff Clown calls out, “For the Honorable Judge Clown!”

The room stands, The Kingsguard look around and hesitantly joins them as a large clown in a rainbow powdered wig makes his way to the bench and takes a seat.

“You may be seated.”

Everyone sits down, the sound of a hundred whoopie cushions fills the room.

“Prosecution, you have the floor.”

The lawyer beside Schadenfruede Clown, Ennui Clown and Enigmatic Clown puts the floor back down and fixes his bolo tie, each end makes the sound of a slide whistle when he adjusts it.

“Ladies and germs of the clown jury, now I may be just a Simple Country Lawyer Clown but I know an injustice when I see it! These three gentleclowns y’all see before you simply walked into a wrestling match on a foreign planet and were going to be hung!”

“AYO!” Says Presumed Innuendo Clown from the back.

"Did they deserve this treatment? I think not. In FACT-”

As Simple Country Lawyer Clown waffles on, The Kingsguard turn to their lawyer.

“Hey, what the hell is going on?”

“You’re on trial for attempted clownicide.” The lawyer responds plainly.

“It was part of a match!”

“Yeah! They knew what they were getting into! I bet we weren’t actually going to lynch them!”

“Ha!” The lawyer shakes his head, “Oh if I had a Clown Dollar for every time I heard that line!”

Kingsguard #9 looks over at the prosecution. “... Ennui Clown looks sad.”

“#9 will you get your shit together! We could be in serious trouble” #7 whisper shouts.

“Yeah, lawyer guy, you’re going to get us off right?”

“AYO!” Presumed Innuendo Clown shouts.

“Guys, don’t worry, I’m handsome and charismatic and the best lawyer slash businessman this Clown City has ever seen, I’m Early 2000s RomCom Antagonist Clown! I never lose!” He chuckles, “Unless of course my abused fiance barges in with that loser friend of hers and dumps me on the spot to be with him but the chances of that happening are slim to-”

Suddenly the court room doors barge open and Early 2000s RomCom Antagonist Clown’s abused fiance rushes in.

“Early 2000s RomCom Antagonist Clown! We’re done!” She takes off her ring and throws it at him. “Me and Male Protagonist but Not Leading Man Type Clown are going to Clown Vegas! And there’s nothing you can do to stop us!”

Both her and that guy kiss passionately as a slow clap starts, most likely from Slow Clap Clown and the room breaks out into applause. Kingsguard #7 stops #9 from clapping along.

“And with THAT! Your honor, I rest my case!” Simple Country Lawyer Clown states before he sits back down.

“Very good, Simple Country Lawyer Clown, that was both heartful and informative, truly the best opening statement I’ve heard in years. And the fact that you rested your case is very ballsy! Defense, your rebuttal or whatever?”

We cut quickly to the defendant table and Early 2000s RomCom Antagonist Clown has hung himself, his feet slowly swaying.

“Holy shit!” #8 lets out in shock.

“DIBS!” Calls Dibs Clown, “I call Dibs on being the new Early 2000s RomCom Antagonist Clown!”

“HEY! GET IN LINE, BUDDY!” Hollers Get In Line Clown pointing back to a line of clowns in line for shouting who is in line.

“GOT ONE DIBS ONE DIBS” Shouts Auctioneer Clown atop a podium, “GOING ONCE ONEADIB DIB TWO! TWO DIBS FOR THE DEAD CLOWN NAME! DO I HERE THREETHRRETHTRHEEE THREE DIBS YABAB-” This descends into nonsense as a clown bidding war has broken out.

“This is hell, we’re in hell. We died on that plane or in that convoy and went to hell.”

“Well, with no defense I suppose I’ll have to send you boys into clown prison for life!”

The judge goes to bang his gavel.


DING! DING! DING!



The judge looks at his gavel in confusion.

“That’s not the usual sound it makes.”

“We finished.” Ennui Clown sighs, cream around his mouth. “We ate the pies.”

“Oh… Well then… Court adjourned!"

HONK! HONK!

The court vanishes and all 6 men return to the ring.

The clowns' bellies were full and The Kingsguard’s mental states shook to their core.

WINNERS - CLOWNS R’ US

[/color]

BAMA: … What the fuck?

CLOWN: THEY DID IT! THEY ACTUALLY DID IT! AS CLOWN GAWD AS MY WITNESS! THE EGGHOOD DREAMS HAVE COME TRUE FOR CLOWNS R’ US!

Thanks to all of our great match writers! Schadenfreude Clown Ennui Clown Kristoffer "Vamp Clown" Arroyo And our fantastic segment writers! Matthias Syn Old Man Centurion And to everyone who RPed!