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Scoops McGee Coronation Ceremony!
The Crowning of the new Universal Champion and King of the XWF, Scoops McGee! Sponsored by the Trillionaires!
The Trillionaires, Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and the muthafuckin’ ZUCK, yo, all roll down the ring!
JC: I’m being handed a card to read which says… That this coronation event… the culmination of a boyhood dream… what wrestling is all about… is brought to you by the Trillionaires. Watch the coronation tonight on Amazon Prime for exclusive highlights from Scoops McGee’s journey, including his divorce and abandonment of his chi-I’m not reading this.
JR: What? Are you illiterate, Jacuinde? You know, AI can read for you these days!
The Trillionaires arrive at the apron and in unison all steps through the ropes… They’re wearing suits like they’re the ones accepting awards tonight… They each shake each other’s hands as a member of the ring crew brings Elon Musk a microphone.
JC: What the hell are these three so pleased with themselves about, Joe?
ELON: Hello, XWF Universe!
…
The crow doesn’t pop much.
ELON: I imagine you’re all unsure of how to react because we haven’t told you what to think! Be confident that tonight is a night of triumph! Of celebration!
Because, FINALLY, Scoops McGee is YOUR XWF Universal champion!
The crowd goes fucking apeshit!
JC: Folks, we are in SIOUX CITY! This is SCOOPS MCGEE COUNTRY if there ever was one!
ELON: So much hard work! So much time and effort and thought and planning and VISION! To arrive at this moment! With a world championship belt around Scoops McGee’s waist! And we’re here to acknowledge the people who made it possible…
The crowd continues to scream!
ELON: And those people would be… Jeff Bezos!
Jeff smiles and waves as the crowd’s applause starts to subside…
ELON: Mark Zuckerburg!
Marky Mark puts up his fingers to represent West Side (Silicon Valley) as the crowd’s applause begins to turn.
ELON: And of course! ELON MUSK!
JC: Of course the Trillionaires want to make this moment all about themselves… Not the four decades Scoops dedicated to this sport…
JR: Hey! Scoops *should* be thanking the Trillionaires! This is the most watched program in XWF history thanks to how much money the Trillionaires have dumped into advertising this coronation show!
ELON: And now… we welcome a man to the ring! The King of the XWF! Who will have the opportunity to… Elon smiles. ”Give credit to the men who made him a champion…”
"So, without further ado…" Elon smirks, pointing to the ramp as the audience begins to realize what's coming next! "I present to you all, the new Universal Champion AND King of the XWF…"
"SCOOPS MCGEE!"
THE CHORUS OF BOOS ARE REPLACED WITH A SEA OF CHEERS THAT MAKES THE BUILDING SHAKE!
IT HOLDS…
HOLDS…
…
BEFORE SCOOPS MCGEE COMES OUT FROM THE BACK!
And behind him come out the rest of the House of Hardcore!
Dickie Watson!
Game Girl!
And Amber Mansley!
JC: I think we're gonna be lucky if we don't get hearing loss from this at all, Joe!
JR: You wanna talk about a homecoming, Jack, I don't think you'll ever find a better example than this right here. It's been years since Scoops has been able to show up in front of the people of Iowa for a show like this.
JC: And let alone for the monumental feat of reaching the top of the mountain! Four decades-plus in the making for this very moment, leading to him snatching not one, but TWO of the top accolades we have here!
The four of them stand on the stage, soaking in the applause of a lifetime! Scoops takes a long moment, a smile stretched across his face as tens of thousands will him on!
Scoops and Game Girl both take the time to high-five the reaching fans as they make their way down to the ring! Dickie nods along with the crowd, tagging a few errant hands left behind, while Amber stands in the center of the crowd, holding her phone up and filming a livestream of the group's entrance together!
The four enter the ring together, and Scoops comes face-to-face in the center of the ring with Elon! There's an electricity still humming in the air as Scoops' music fades out, before finally…
"Congratulations, Mister McGee."
Elon stretches his hand out, looking almost pained to do so! Scoops thinks on it for a moment, before nodding as he accepts it!
JC: Folks, if you've been watching for a few months, you know the animosity these two have had for each other. Elon Musk was one of the biggest naysayers to Scoops rising to the top, he's tried to have him in jail, he sent the pirate ship he was on in March Madness right to the Strait of Hormuz to try and kill the man-
JR: And he giftwrapped him a title shot in the main event of Snow Pain, Snow Gain.
JC: But even that was to try and drive a wedge between the House of Hardcore! But that's a bond that's only looking stronger than ever right about now!
Elon is quick to try and separate himself from the handshake, eyes nearly bulging out of his skull as he exhales, unable to help himself from pacing around the ring for a moment. Bezos and Zuck share a look with each other as Elon turns to Dickie, Game Girl and Amber, pantomiming a handshake with them from afar.
"I'd shake each of your hands too, but really, touching one poor man is more than enough for me for tonight. Just… pretend I'm shaking your hands."
Boos begin to come down now towards Elon as the House looks at each other, a mixture of confusion and disgust on their faces! Bezos looks at the crowd and motions with his hand across his throat to try and get the crowd to stop, but they only get louder!
JC: Well, I guess our owner isn't totally over himself yet…
JR: Watch yourself, Jack, or you might be the commentator getting replaced this time.
Elon looks at the booing crowd, pausing… before a smile comes across his face too! "I'm glad to see the people of Iowa hate the poor as much as I do! Really, they're so gross, and-"
Before the boos can turn louder, Bezos interjects. "Sir, we're here to crown the new champion…?"
"Oh. Right." Elon clears his throat, turning to the third Trillionaire in the ring. "Mark, if you'd please."
The Zuck stops scratching his ass as he straightens and nods at Elon, moving across the ring towards the first of two covered pedestals! He takes off the cover, revealing the traditional Universal Championship!
The crowd pops as Zuckerberg takes it off its pedestal, shuffling over towards Scoops as he puts it around his waist! Scoops shuffles the belt in place, adjusting to its weight as he smiles just looking at it!
The second cover on the pedestal comes off now, revealing the Crown of the XWF! The fans pop even louder now, its jewels glimmering under the lights above!
JR: It almost feels… I guess 'wrong' is the term… not to see that crown on Kieran King's head right about now.
JC: I'm sure Kieran would agree with you right about now, Joe, but I think this is a sight we're gonna get used to very soon.
As Zuckerberg places the crown on top of Scoops' head, Amber comes out of nowhere to take a flash photo of the crowning moment! Scoops flinches from the sudden burst of light as Game Girl slides in for a double photo! Scoops covers up from the light as Dickie snorts at the sight before telling Amber to ease up.
Elon takes a moment to let the moment settle down, before he begins to speak again. "Now that that's settled, Mister McGee-"
"Should we call him 'King,' sir?" Bezos asks, before he's quickly silenced with a stare from Elon.
"…As I was saying."
Elon looks back at Scoops, once more pacing around the ring as he does so. "Now that we're getting through this ceremony, Mister McGee, I think we should talk business. It's no secret that you ought to be commended for the amount of years you put into this profession. You've scratched and clawed your way to the top… but now that you've ticked off the last thing on your bucket list, I think the question becomes, 'when will this end?'"
A nervous silence falls through the crowd…
"I mean, really, the last thing we would want is for you to get seriously injured in the ring, you know? These people, they love you. Every show you appear on, every t-shirt you sell, it's a magic memory you create with them. If something goes wrong, then… well… you wouldn't want to taint those memories, would you?"
Scoops frowns, clearly unconvinced. Elon doesn't seem to notice as he continues rambling.
"But think about it. The Scoops McGee retirement tour? It'd be electric! I can just imagine the tagline now… 'The Last Big Scoop.'"
A beat passes as Elon's smile drops. "Eh. I think that could use some work. But-"
Scoops snatches the mic out of Elon's hand as the crowd pops! Elon freezes, unsure of what just happened as Bezos pales in the background!
"Listen here, boah," Scoops barks as he stares Elon down! "You can throw all the platitudes you want my way, but we're gonna make three things crystal clear right about now. You ain't gonna disrespect my House-"
Scoops points at the House of Hardcore, nodding in unison as the crowd pops!
"You ain't gonna disrespect these people-" Scoops points to the crowd as they get even louder now!
"And you ain't gonna disrespect ME!" Scoops jabs a finger at his own chest, his gravelly voice echoing in the mic.
Off-mic, Elon looks at Bezos, seeming to ask him for a live translation of Scoops' promo! Bezos whispers in Elon's ear, and Elon's face contorts in disgust in real-time as Scoops continues!
"Fact of the matter is, I'm the best I've ever been in this ring. I've gotten to this point by fightin' against and alongside some of the best this business has to offer in the process, and that includes my House beside me!"
Scoops saunters over to the House of Hardcore, the four standing in line together, defiant against the Trillionaires. "I will be good and God-DAMNED if I let some mealy-mouthed, yellow-bellied pricks tell me how to retire! When I hang up the boots, I'm doin' it on my terms, and it ain't gonna be a moment before, you got that?!"
Elon holds a hand out to Bezos, who reluctantly hands him his own microphone, letting him speak once again.
"You may think that to be the case, Mister McGee," Elon hums. "I think it's important to remember though… you may hold a crown on your head, but we still call the shots around here. We put you in the position to succeed… and we can put you in the position to fail in the process. Both you… and your little poor friends."
"Succeed?!" Scoops roars, completely irate. "You people tried to get me to rot in jail! You people tried to fuckin' kill me, and you want to talk about makin' me SUCCEED? Fuck you! Fuck all three of you!"
Zuckerberg points at his own chest, completely dumbfounded as to why he's getting called out alongside his fellow Trillionaires! Bezos tries to tell Scoops not to use such language, only for Scoops to flip him off! The crowd pops like crazy as Game Girl flushes a beet red at hearing such things!
"You wanna target me? You wanna target my House?" Scoops continued. "We'll walk out right now on the spot. The unionized wrestlers" - another huge pop from the crowd at the mention of the union! - "ain't gonna let this stand either, boahs. So I'd pick your next course of action very carefully right about now."
"And that's a union without a President right about now," Elon reminded to some scattered boos.
"Ain't gonna be the case for much longer," Scoops snorted. "Before March Madness, I said in my promo that I'm wantin' to give back to this industry the best way that I can. I may not be used to bein' a King, but that don't mean that I ain't gonna give this my best shot, no siree. And if one of the ways I can give back is by makin' sure you chucklefucks can stop meddlin' in what we do? Then I'm up for the challenge."
The three Trillionaires share a look at each other, a look of silent agreement on their faces for once as Elon looks at Scoops one more time.
"We'll see how that fares, Mister McGee," Elon smirked. "Just as we'll be watching you come Leap of Faith."
"But you'd be wise not to pick a fight you can't win."
The three Trillionaires walk out of the ring and to the back together to a chorus of boos, leaving Scoops and the House of Hardcore in the ring together.
As Scoops' music plays over the loudspeakers, the House of Hardcore share a last moment in the ring together, looking out at the screaming and cheering fans. Scoops holds his Universal championship tight as one unifying chant breaks out amongst the people:
A single tear streaks down across Scoops' face as the rest of the House gives the man a moment to breathe and speak.
"The only way tonight could be better right about now would be if I was fightin' in front of you," Scoops nodded. "But I'll settle for this, and to make you the promise that the next time we come here, I'll do my best to keep fightin' for this belt, and I'll be in the main event for you all. But for right now?"
Scoops takes a deep breath, a few more tears trickling down his haggard face as his wide grin can't be wiped off his face.
"Make no mistake: I'm the happiest man in the world right about now. Just remember that if I can be at the top right now, each of you have the potential to succeed in life yerselves."
"Thank you all! I love you!"
Scoops gives one last bow to the people as they break out into a thunderous applause, and the House of Hardcore take a moment to embrace in the center of the ring before they head to the back together.
JC: I don't know if Scoops is gonna be able to make good on his promise to get rid of the Trillionaires, but I think we can say that he's crazy and stubborn enough to try.
JR: If he can pull it off though, Jack? It might be an even bigger miracle than what he did in the tournament.
Out in the private carpark of the Tyson Events Center, the camera picks up a dapper pair of shoes walking along the concrete.
It pans up, over a tan pair of trousers and up to a half-unbuttoned dress shirt. A jacket—matching the pants—is slung over the shoulder of a man who walks with purpose.
Still dressed as though the world was his (perhaps even more so than a month ago), he is the deposed king.
Kieran King.
Just two weeks past he would have been flanked by an array of armed goons and carried himself with an unmatched smugness. He now quells a simmering ire beneath an immaculately groomed face.
And he walks alone.
But this is not the look of a man who is distraught and destitute. This is a man who has picked himself up from the lowest of lows! This is a man ready to march to victory once again!
This is also a man who doesn't have a match tonight…
Security: Sorry, you'll have to stop there.
Kieran squints his eyes as a member of the XWF Security Team steps in front of him.
Kieran King: What are you talking about?
Security: I can't let you in the building.
Kieran King: Again… what are you talking about?
Security: You… you don't even remember who I am, do you?
Kieran King: I am pretty sure that I have never seen your face before in my life.
Security: THAT'S BECAUSE YOU MADE ME WEAR A MASK!
Kieran glowers.
Kieran King: Kingsguard?
Security: YOU called me Number 15. But my real name is Mick.
Kieran King: Terrible name. 15 is much better.
Mick the Security Guard: Yeah, well, I don't work for you anymore.
Kieran King: And yet here you are, doing the same job you were when you did. Probably for less money too.
Mick the Security Guard: At least I don't have to work for a prick like you.
Kieran King: No, you just work for Tommy Gunn who's a prick in his own right. Or at least he will be when he drags himself out of the hospital bed that I put him in. And if you go up the chain from Tommy, all you get are pricks along the way. Peter Principle? Prick. Vinnie Lane? Prick. Musk, Bezos, and Zuckerturd? All pricks.
Mick the Security Guard: And yet they're still all better than working for you.
Kieran King: You're in the honeymoon phase. Sooner or later you'll realise what I did for you. But for now, I just need you to move out of my way.
Kieran goes to move past.
Mick cuts him off.
Mick the Security Guard: No can do. Management has given explicit instructions that Kieran King is not to be let in.
Kieran King: Why?
[purple]Mick the Security Guard: Because they don't want you throwing a tantrum over getting your ass beat by Dolly Waters and ruining the night.
Kieran King: Who is ‘they’?
Mick the Security Guard: EVERYONE.
Kieran stiffens his jaw. He swings his jacket from his shoulder and lays it across a nearby crate before stepping closer to the security guard.
Kieran King: 15… Mick... do I look like I'm about to throw a tantrum? Do I look like I'm in the midst of some existential meltdown? Do I look like I GIVE A FUCK about losing the union? I know what I've created, I know the legacy that I've left in this business, and I damn sure know that it's only going to take a few matches and I'm going to be right back where I was to begin with and ready to rip the head off whoever is the best loser between Scoops and SEB. I've put both of their asses to the mat on more than one occasion and neither of them have ever done the same to me.
I will be Universal Champion again.
There's nothing ‘they’—this nameless management you're referring to—can do about it.
There's nothing anyone in that locker room can do about it.
And there's nothing YOU can do about it.
Now I'm going to ask you again… move out of my way.
Suddenly, the door behind Mick swings open and out files a whole troop of security guards. All big men, and all staring at Kieran with disdain.
Kieran King: Let me guess, all Kingsguard?
You're welcome for your jobs, by the way.
I trained the best of you to do what I do in the ring, and you lost more than you won. I count ten of you. That's not enough to make up the difference.
Mick the Security Guard: We're willing to test that theory.
Kieran licks his lips as he mulls his next move.
A smile cracks onto his face as he takes half a step backwards.
Kieran King: I'm proud of you, Mick. I'm proud of all of you! You're all grown up! But trust me… you're not ready for this smoke. Don't expect to come asking for a handout from Dad when everything falls to shit again.
As one last defiant move, he pokes Mick with his finger.
Kieran King: Tell “management” that I was here. Tell them that I left you all still standing. Tell them that's me offering an olive branch.
Tell them that there won't be another.”
Smiling again as he throws his jacket back over his shoulder, Kieran takes two steps backwards and spins, heading back the way he came.
The camera flicks to the gathered security officers who watch as he goes, and then quickly pans across the car park, catching Kieran just in time for him to walk out of frame again.
But the camera doesn't follow him further.
Instead, it catches the spark of a cigarette firing to life in the distance.
It zooms in, and there, flickering in the flames amongst the shadows and watching Kieran's departure…
is ALIAS.
A puff of smoke sends the camera to black.
Darkness. Silence. A pause.
"Hey, that your boyfriend?"
"True Believers" by DON BROCO feat. Sam Carter starts as the crowd starts a deafening chorus of boos. A spotlight.
"And that big red flag they waving, it's your choice."
The automatons, bearing their respective symbols on their masks appear, two on either side of the spotlight. X, O, Triangle and Square. A helicopter hovers now. From it comes a ladder that lowers down onto the spotlight, carrying Jordan Penn in his masked Director persona. He descends fully and kneels as his minions follow suit.
"All the true believers, All the true believers, All the true believers..."
"WAKE THE FUCK UP!"
In that moment, he removes his mask as pyro explodes onto the stage behind him. Two other men join the entourage now, Greg Brune and Wallace. Jordan strides single-mindedly and quickly toward the ring, flanked by his four masked and two unmasked men. As he reaches the edge of the ring, he surveys the crowd, taking in their boos and letting it fuel him. A wry smile etched across his face, he laughs and looks to his men. The masked men get on all fours and form a human staircase for him. He walks across their backs with purpose and enters the ring. Wallace nods, signaling for the masked men to head backstage. Wallace and Greg Brune take their places on either side of the ring as Jordan mockingly does a pageant wave to the crowd, met with more booing. He flips off the audience in at least three different ways before leaning on the turnbuckle and looking out once more at the crowd and waiting for the match to begin.
JC: Tonight’s opening match might as well be the main event, not just because it’s CHAMPION vs CHAMPION, and not just because it’s The Blaque Sheep vs The Impossible Traveler-
JR: But because there is some MAJOR DRAMA attached to this one!
JC: That’s right, Joe! Jordan Penn, formerly known as The Director, ditched his mask at March Madness and revealed his true face to the XWF!
JR: And his face is the face of SEBASTIAN EVERETT-BRYCE!
JC: That’s right, Joe! They are long-lost twin brothers, and Jordan Penn has promised to turn Sebastian’s empire into ASH.
JR: He already took Sebastian’s tag-team championships, and tonight, he’s looking to take it one step further!
“Now, who’s ready to be baptized into a new era of entertainment?!”
The lights go out in the arena as the voice calls out its query. A moment later, bright, twinkling lights like stars scatter across the building.
“Rome wasn’t built in a day
You gotta climb a little higher,
To the top of the display,
Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
The starlight intensifies as a figure rises from beneath the platform, her back to the crowd, head down. The song continues to echo throughout the arena, electric and intense. Her blonde hair is tied into a tight shark-braid that swings back and forth as she bounces from foot to foot.
“If you want it, just take it,
The world's yours, don’t waste it,
Go make the stars align, to shine-”
The rising platform levels to the arena floor in unison with the beat drop to the song.
“BRIGHTER!”
As the word echoes through the arena, an explosion of sparkling pyrotechnics go off as Betsy Granger throws out her arms, revealing a blue chiffon robe lit with bright stars.
“Brighter than the heavens in the skies above,
(oooh oooh)
You’ll be,
BRIGHTER!"
Twirling gracefully to face the crowd, she points skyward as the lights in the arena flood back on. Betsy bounces twice before half-running, half-skipping down the ramp towards the ring.
"Going supernova, all the eyes look up
(at you, at you)
BRIGHTER!”
The song switches to an instrumental break as she does one complete circuit around the ring. Throwing off her cape on the announcer's table, she dashes towards the ring and jumps onto the apron in a one clean move. Using her momentum, she bounces clean over the top rope and spins on her toes to the center of the ring, arms out wide. As she comes to a stop, the music swells, and the crowd joins in like a devoted choir, just the same as the song itself.
“BRIIIIIIIIIGHTEEEEERRRRRRR”
Betsy grins widely and bounces from foot to foot, ready for the fight.
JC: Betsy Granger may be one of the kindest people in the galaxy: but tonight, she’s putting all of that to the side!
JR: That’s right! Tonight, we’re not getting Betsy Granger the lovable bombshell: tonight, we’re getting Betsy Granger the PISSED OFF Girlfriend!
JC: Ain’t that the truth, Joe! Betsy vowed to get revenge against Jordan for what he did to Sebastian at March Madness…the only question is, can she walk the walk just as well as she talks the talk?
JR: We are about to find out! I get the feeling that this match is going to be an instant classic!
Jordan Penn
- vs -
Betsy Granger Singles
There’s no feeling out process.
They meet in the center and immediately start throwing!
Forearm smash from Jordan Penn.
Forearm back from Betsy Granger.
Another from Penn—harder.
Betsy answers with a sharp, snapping semi-circular kick to the ribs that echoes through the arena. Penn barely flinches. He steps forward and cracks her with a spinning backfist that turns her head violently to the side!
Betsy stumbles—but doesn’t fall.
She fires back with a rapid combination—low kick, mid kick, high kick—each one snapping against Penn’s body and jaw. He eats them, grinning through it, before stepping in and driving a brutal headbutt straight into her face.
Both stagger backwards!
JC: There’s no love lost between these two tonight!
JR: The Impossible Traveler and The Blacque Sheep have laid claim to Sebastian Everett-Bryce and his legacy, respectively! And tonight, they’re battling it out!
Penn recovers first. He grabs her by the arm and yanks—
German suplex!
Betsy folds hard, neck snapping against the mat. Penn doesn’t release—he rolls through—
Second German suplex!
He holds again—
Third—
Betsy blocks it mid-lift, dropping her weight and stomping his foot. She spins out, twisting the arm—
Armwringer into a spinning wristlock!
She cranks down violently, dragging him to a knee.
Penn snarls and rises anyway, muscling through the torque. He yanks her in—
Spinebuster!
He drives her into the mat with authority and floats over, not for a cover, but to grab her face—talking to her, jaw tight, venom in every word.
Betsy spits in his face!
JC: This match is already getting personal!
JR: Of course this is personal! Betsy is banging Jordan’s brother- and Jordan isn’t happy about it! But not for the reasons you’d think!
Penn wipes the spit away slowly…then removes one of his black gloves. He throws it into the crowd-
Then rears his hand back to pimpslap Betsy!
The slap echoes.
Betsy fires back instantly—
With a backflip kick!
Penn’s head snaps back and he drops to a knee.
Betsy surges forward—
Single leg dropkick!
Right to the chest, sending him into the ropes.
She charges—
Penn explodes off the ropes—
Flying knee!
It crashes into Betsy’s jaw mid-motion and sends her flipping to the mat.
Both collapse to the mat after the impact!
JC: Jordan Penn might’ve just broken his future sister-in-law’s jaw! Sebastian isn’t going to like that!
JR: I think that’s the point! He’s trying to send a message to his brother, THROUGH Betsy!
JC: And what’s that message, Joe?
JR: First, he’s coming for your belts….and then, he’s coming for your woman! But not in the way you’d expect!
JC: Wow, what a twist! Jordan Penn is an everyday M. Night Shamalyan!
Penn rises first, breathing hard now, the smile gone. He drags Betsy up and hooks her—
Suplex.
He holds her up for a moment…lets the crowd ‘oooh’ and ‘aaah’ at his strength…lets the blood rush…then drops her flat!
He doesn’t release.
He pulls her up again—
Back breaker!
Across the knee!
Betsy gasps—but immediately reaches back—
Bridging Fujiwara armbar!
She traps the arm out of nowhere and arches back, wrenching it violently!
JC: Betsy Granger is like a python in that ring! She’s slithery, she strikes when you least expect, and when she gets her jaws around you it’s all but over! Jordan Penn might have to tap out here!
JR: She clearly takes her Brazilian Jiu Jitsu very seriously, and I respect the hell out of that!
Penn roars, trying to power out, rolling, twisting—
He gets to his feet with her still attached and deadlifts—
Power slam counter!
He crushes her into the mat to break the hold.
Betsy rolls away, clutching her ribs.
JC: Well dang, that’s one way to break a submission hold!
JR: And break a few of Betsy’s ribs, at the same time! That’s a veteran move from Jordan Penn!
JC: A veteran move indeed, Joe! This is Jordan Penn’s second stint in the XWF, and it looks like he’s only gotten wiser and more experienced with age!
Penn pulls off his second glove now.
This is different.
He grabs her by the hair and drags her up—she fires a desperate reverse roundhouse kick that clips his jaw—but he eats it and responds with a brutal bulldog, spiking her face-first.
He doesn’t let her go.
He pulls her up again—
DDT!
Spikes her again!
Then goes for the cover—
1!
2!!
Betsy kicks out!!!
JC: Betsy will never go down that easy!
JR: Hah, phrasing! Maybe she’d go down easier if he was his brother!
JC: Have some respect, Joe!
Penn sits up immediately, glaring, then grabs her arms, dragging her into position—
Surfboard stretch!
He leans back, pulling her spine apart, grinding her down into the mat.
Betsy screams—but starts kicking, shifting her weight, inching—
She rolls through—
Cloverleaf with armlock!
She traps him, wrenching both leg and arm at once.
Now Penn is the one shouting!
JC: Another brilliant reversal from The Wayward Wanderer! Betsy Granger’s ground game is impeccable!
JR: I hear she’s been wrestling Sebastian lately, and that’s one sure-fire way to improve your skills! Jordan never got the chance to wrestle with Sebastian when they were kids, because, well….Jordan’s family hated him and gave him away!
JC: That’s….really sad…
JR: And now? His family is probably cheering as they watch Betsy Granger wrench his leg and his arm at the same time!
JC: That’s….probably true, actually.
He claws forward, dragging both of them inch by inch, sheer strength pulling him toward the ropes—
But Betsy releases before the break and stomps his arm repeatedly.
She pulls him up—
Down You Go! (Cobra clutch legsweep!)
He crashes to the mat.
She doesn’t cover.
She grabs the arm again—
Straight jacket!
She cinches it in tight, suffocating him, body scissors locked—
Penn starts fading—
Then suddenly surges, brute force, throwing himself backward—
They crash down to the mat hard!
Both are down again, drawing heavy breath as their sweat glistens under the spotlights.
JC: Jordan Penn used everything to fight out of that! But how much does he have left in the tank?!
JR: And how far is Betsy willing to go to avenge her lover’s loss at March Madness?!
They rise slower now.
Betsy throws a kick—
Penn catches it.
He spins her—
Reverse DDT!
But he doesn’t let go.
He drags her toward the corner.
Climbs.
Pulls her up with him.
Perched high—
He hooks her—
Moonsault reverse DDT!
They crash down in a violent heap as the crowd gasps!
JR: THIS COULD BE IT RIGHT HERE!
JC: JORDAN PENN MAKES THE COVER!
The referee drops down to count the pin-
1!
2!!
Betsy kicks out!!!
Penn slams the mat in frustration.
JC: Betsy finds the will to fight on! Jordan can’t believe it!
JR: My God, if I was Jordan Penn I’d be frustrated right now, too! What more does he have to do to keep her down?!
He stands, pacing, breathing heavy, and staring daggers at the referee.
He waits until the referee turns around to flash two fingers at the hardcam…..
EMPIRE KICK!
The referee drops to the mat, unconscious and unaware of what just hit him!
The crowd gasps in shock!
JC: Jordan Penn just attacked the referee! He should be immediately disqualified!
JR: Well…who’s going to DQ him, Jacquinde?! The referee’s out cold!
Jordan then reaches into his boot—
He pulls out a coiled whip.
The crowd noise swells.
He cracks it once in the air.
Betsy is on her knees, trying to stand—
CRACK!
Across her back.
She screams.
Penn stalks forward—
CRACK!
Again.
He tosses the whip aside, grabbing her—
He winds her up—
The Whip Crack (Rainmaker clothesline)!
Betsy ducks it.
She spins—
Rolling Koppu kick!
It lands flush.
Penn staggers—
Betsy fires—
Plante de Visage (Hurricanrana driver)!
She spikes him into the mat.
Both collapse!
JC: The referee, The Impossible Traveler, and The Blacque Sheep are all down!
JR: This match is taking everything they have! Jordan Penn is pulling out every dirty trick in his book, and Betsy Granger is countering with pure GRIT!
Betsy crawls first.
She pulls Penn up—
Galactic Advantage (Snapmare driver)!
Another spike!
She covers-
And the referee slowly starts coming to.
After a few second, the referee notices that Jordan Penn is covered- and starts counting!
Slowly!
1!
2!!
Penn barely kicks out!!!
JR: The Blacque Sheep fights through the adversity and kicks out!
JC: Adversity- what adversity?! He attacked the referee, pulled out a foreign object, and STILL almost just ate a pin! If the referee wasn’t half-concussed, I think Jordan would already be DQed!
JR: That’s what I’m talking about….adversity!
Betsy exhales sharply, frustration creeping in.
She drags him up again—he suddenly explodes—
Spinning backfist!
She drops.
He pulls her up instantly—
Final Cut (Spirit Gun)!
He blasts her with it—
He makes the cover—
1!
2!!
Betsy kicks out!
Penn can’t believe it.
His face changes.
He drags her up one more time, fury overtaking everything.
He points to the top rope.
He climbs, hauling her with him.
Setting up—
Erasure!
Top rope pedigree—
But Betsy fights.
Punch to the ribs.
Another.
She drops down behind him—
Hooks him—
German suplex off the second rope!
Both crash to the mat hard.
Neither moves for a long moment.
Then Betsy moves.
Slowly.
Dragging herself up using the ropes.
Penn staggers to his feet.
They meet again.
No speed left.
No gas in either tank.
Just pure violence!
JC: These two are running on fumes out here!
JR: I can sense that our end is drawing near, but this is still anyone’s match!
Forearm from Penn!
Matching forearm from Granger!
Headbutt from Penn.
Betsy answers with a brutal overhead kick!
Penn drops to a knee.
She steps in—
Locks it—
Full nelson!
Penn struggles—
She roars—
JR: ICH MUSS DICH BRECHEN!
JC: Betsy is bringing out the big guns to put Jordan Penn down for 3!
Full nelson facebuster!
She drives him face-first into the mat with everything she has left.
She collapses on top of him.
1!
2!!
3!!!
Winner: Betsy Granger
JC: What an AMAZING opening match! Jordan Penn gave it his all, and used every dirty trick he had, but Betsy Granger pulls out the impossible victory in tonight’s match!
JR: That’s right, Jacquinde! Jordan Penn gave her all she could handle, and trust me, we just saw her handle him in that ring! Tonight’s result will certainly put a smile on Sebastian’s face!
Neither gets up right away.
Betsy finally rolls off, clutching her ribs, dragging herself to the ropes to stand.
Jordan Penn lies motionless, face turned to the side, the fight beaten out of him—for tonight.
The Revolution Champion stands tall, barely, as the woozy referee raises her hand in front of the roaring crowd.
As Nirvana's Tourette's blares through the loudspeakers, the cameras pan around the arena before finally spotting Frances Marigold.
He appears in the stands, smoking a cigarette, jamming out with the fans. He cracks open a can of beer pours it down his throat before heading to the ring.
JC: Frances Marigold, making his return to the XWF, and he looks like he's ready for a fight here tonight.
JR: He always looks like he's ready for a fight, Jack. Even when it's to his detriment, to be quite honest. I could count on one hand the number of guys who get off on pain to the level that this guy does.
JC: He'll need that wild edge tonight though if he wants to get a victory.
Frances rolls underneath the bottom rope, holding his hand up high as the crowd gives him some support.
The country twang of Stand Your Ground echoes as a mixed reaction echoes through the crowd. Tuck Taggart comes out from the back, a mean look on his face as he sneers at his opponent in the ring. He tips his hat to the camera before making his way down to the ring, shadowboxing as he moves across.
[white]JR: You wanna talk about a big, bad MFer, Jack, this guy… Tuck Taggart. He's as big and bad as they come.
JC: Tuck has experience both in slapfighting and pro wrestling, and he turns that experience into some of the hardest hitting action I've ever seen inside of the squared circle. You can just ask Mark Zuckerberg after Tuck knocked him out at March Madness…
JR: I'm still shocked he got away with that!
Tuck climbs up the steps and places his hat right on the ring post. He cleans his boots off on the apron before he walks inside… AND HE LUNGES RIGHT FOR FRANCES MARIGOLD!
JC: WOAH!
JR: Frances got taken by surprise by a cheap shot!
The referee yells as THE BELL RINGS!
Frances Marigold
- vs -
Kentucky “Tuck” Taggart
Unsanctioned Street Fight
HIGHLIGHT REEL
Lefts and rights are flying right now from both men as they try to ground-and-pound their opponent! Both Tuck and Frances are trying to keep each other down but their punches are echoing across the arena!
JR: Forget any kind of feeling out process here, because we got a FIGHT to start us off!
JC: They're out here trying to maim each other! Marigold, Tuck, they BOTH get off on pain!
Tuck eventually manages to try to use the ropes to come back to his feet, but Frances is still wailing on him with heavy body blows! Both men come up onto their feet as Tuck manages to shove Frances back before he winds up, twirling - DISCUS PUNCH!
CRACK!
That one rocked Frances! He staggers back to the ropes, letting them catch him as he glares at Tuck! He shoots forward with a giant SPEAR to try and take Tuck down!
But Tuck tries to sprawl even as Frances keeps moving forward like a wild beast! He manages to stay on his feet, but Frances manages to send him right into the corner, jabbing his shoulder into his gut two times! Frances takes Tuck out of the corner… HUGE snap DDT to level the big man!
Frances with the cover!
ONE!
KICKOUT!
JR: WOAH!
JC: Tuck's a mammoth of a man with skin like leather, Frances is gonna need a lot if he wants to keep Tuck down for the three-count!
Tuck staggers his way back to his feet, but Frances grabs him by the back of his neck to literally THROW him right into the turnbuckle again! Frances looks to follow up, only for Tuck to come roaring back with a boot to the gut that staggers him!
Tuck now grabs Frances by the skull, SLAMMING him right into the turnbuckle! Frances looks dazed as Tuck slams him down again, causing Frances to have to stagger back and away! Tuck doesn't let up, though, Irish-Whipping Frances and catching him with a sudden FALLAWAY SLAM on the rebound!
Frances goes flying across the ring! He ends up inadvertently rolling out of the ring, taking a hard landing out onto the floor as the fans wince! Tuck grins, letting him roll out of the ring elsewhere to give him a chance to look underneath the ring… and he pulls out a steel chair! The Tyson Events Center pops like crazy at the sight!
JC: Folks, we have to warn you now. If you've got any young children watching with you at home here, now is gonna be the time to make them look away, because we can't guarantee what's about to happen here in an unsanctioned match.
JR: Look at Frances and how he's pulling himself up! He's SMILING at that chair, Jack! I don't think he has all his marbles upstairs, and I'm not sure if I mean that as a compliment or an insult!
JC: And you can very easily say the same about Tuck…
Frances hops right up onto the apron and begins to run across as he's got a laser-focus on Tuck! He leaps, looking for a diving elbow drop!
Tuck sidesteps! Frances lands on his feet but Tuck pushes him back!
TUCK SWINGS THE CHAIR!
FRANCES TAKES THE BLOW ON HIS FOREARM THOUGH!
AND
HE
DOES
NOT
FALL!
THE FANS ARE HOLLERING AS FRANCES SCREAMS RIGHT IN TUCK'S FACE!
JC: He just… took the shot…
JR: There's pain tolerance, and then there's that!
Tuck gawks at the sight. He's not scared, but there's a clear, sudden recalibration in his head, having to adjust his own expectations on the fly as Frances continues to scream at him!
Tuck winds up for another chair shot!
BUT FRANCES RIPS THE CHAIR RIGHT OUT OF HIS HANDS!
CRACK! RIGHT ACROSS THE SHOULDERS! TUCK STAGGERS!
CRACK! TUCK DROPS TO A KNEE!
CRACK! TUCK RISES TO HIS FEET AND DROPS FRANCES WITH ANOTHER DISCUS PUNCH!
BOTH MEN ARE LAID OUT AS THE CHAIR GOES FLYING!
Tuck is trying to get up in the center of the ring as Frances rolls out, and now it's his turn to look underneath the ring! He quickly surfaces with a TRASH CAN! The lid is barely hanging on as a kendo stick is hanging out from the inside, and he rummages inside to also pull out…
JR: Is that a cheese grater?
JC: That… is indeed a cheese grater, Joe.
JR: I think I'm gonna be sick.
Frances shoots a grin to the fans, triumphantly holding up the cheese grater in a manner that indicates he should have no business being trusted near a hardware store. He begins to roll the trash can into the ring…
BUT TUCK BASEBALL SLIDES THE TRASH CAN RIGHT INTO FRANCES' FACE! Frances gets rocketed back right into the steel guard rail as he winces from the impact! Tuck slides out of the ring and he quickly brings the fight to Frances with some heavy right hands!
FRANCES RESPONDS BY RAKING THE CHEESE GRATER OVER TUCK'S ARMS! Tuck howls and yanks his arms back as he sees blood trickling down his muscles! Fans in the first few rows are outright cringing at the sight, but it gives Frances a chance to breathe!
Frances grabs the trash can lid and - CRACK! He slams it right against Tuck's skull as he falls onto a knee!
JC: I'm shocked Tuck isn't seeing stars right about now! Frances just put every ounce of power into that lid shot!
JR: Tuck's one mean bastard for not falling all the way, but he might regret that!
Frances doesn't let up as he drops the lid! He holds Tuck tight as he throws themselves back…
RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP RIGHT AGAINST THE BARRICADE!
JC: FRANCES JUST NAILED BOTH HIMSELF AND TUCK WITH THAT HARD SLAM!
Tuck crumbles to the floor! Frances staggers forward, holding his own back, but the roar of the crowd keeps him going as he shakes his head to ward off the pain! He staggers forward, climbing onto the apron before using it to climb the turnbuckles! He turns around to look at Tuck…
HI-ANGLE SENTON BOMB TO THE OUTSIDE!
JC: FRANNIE'S REVENGE! FRANNIE'S REVENGE! FRANCES GOT ALL OF IT!
JR: He might have just crushed Tuck with that senton! But they're both wiped out!
Tuck is on his knees, watching Frances twirl the kendo stick around in the center of the ring. He shoots forward towards Tuck, beating it against his chest! A ruby-red welt springs up as Tuck has to grit his teeth, bearing the pain! A second shot and welt soon follows though, and a third!
Frances with another shot- TUCK DUCKS! Frances goes wild with the shot as he inadvertently starts spinning, but that's all the time Tuck needs to get back to his feet! He grabs Frances from behind and nails him with a HUGE atomic drop! He picks up the kendo stick for himself, winding up…
AND HE BREAKS THE KENDO STICK IN HALF BY HITTING FRANCES RIGHT ACROSS THE BACK OF THE SKULL!
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!
JR: That strength is INHUMAN!
JC: And enough to give you a concussion! Folks, Tuck Taggart is a former champion slapfighter in his own right, and he's putting that raw power to good use right about now!
Tuck yanks Frances to his feet, now clearly trying to target the back of the head as he plants him down once again with a swinging neckbreaker! Again he hoists Frances to his feet, pulling him up into a vertical suplex! The crowd 'oohs' and 'aahs' at the sight, blood rushing to Frances' head before Tuck runs forward to gain momentum and slams Frances right down to the mat!
JC: That's the Kentuckyplex right there, and Frances might be out of it!
Tuck goes for the cover!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Frances already tries to sit upright, but the camera swoops behind, seeing his blonde hair stained crimson from a nasty cut right on the back of his skull.
JC: Frances Marigold is busted wide open after that kendo stick shot from before, and Tuck Taggart has his target placed on a silver pedestal for himself!
JR: Attacking the back of the skull… that's dangerous work, Jack. Frances could take some serious brain damage from this match if he can't end it soon. The fact that he's still trying to go, though… there's something deeply wrong with that man, and I respect it enormously.
JC: Frances is on a timer with this match, now. He's the prey, and Tuck is the hunter.
Frances staggers onto all fours, but Tuck doesn't waste time! He begins to stretch Frances out, slapping on an Abdominal Stretch! Frances grits his teeth in the hold, but Tuck adds fuel to the flames as he lays down some heavy elbow shots right to the ribcage!
JC: Look at Tuck right there, he's beating on Frances' ribs like they're his own instrument! It's a Bluegrass Xylophone!
JR: Taking the fight to multiple spots all over his body right now!
Each shot sounds like a bat hitting a side of beef. Frances claws at Tuck's wrist, twisting, trying to hip-toss out of it! Tuck just cranks in the hold harder, though!
Frances bites down on his own lip and throws his weight sideways while moving, tumbling them both through the ropes to the floor!
Both men hit the ground hard as Frances… laughs?!
JR: He just threw himself through the ropes to break the hold… while laughing.
JC: Frances Marigold may be the most dangerous man in the XWF simply because he does not care what happens to his own body!
The two are brawling right on the entranceway, Tuck dragging the trash can from the ring behind him! He dumps it over Frances' head, leaving him staggering and twirling aross across before Tuck winds up for another discus punch that CRACKS right over the metal, denting it from the impact! Frances drops like a sack of potatoes, and it's clear from his twitching arms that Tuck hit across the back of his skull again!
Tuck takes a minute to catch a breath as he taunts to the crowd, grinning as Frances has to crawl across! Tuck turns back to Frances, trying to hold him up as Frances uses a desperate burst of strength to nail him with a flapjack… RIGHT ONTO THE GUARD RAIL ALONG THE ENTRANCE WAY!
JC: Where did that even come from?!
JR: I stopped trying to question this man long ago, Jack!
Both men are slow to get back to their feet, brawling all the way back to the ring now as they just can't stop moving towards each other! Neither man goes down cleanly, both of them leaving a trail of blood and debris behind them on the floor! Tuck rolls Frances back into the ring, and he spots the steel chair still lying where it landed earlier, and picks it up.
He sets it down right in the center of the ring, marking his territory for where to end the match.
JC: Tuck might be looking for the killshot right about now.
JR: Frances is gonna have to dig down deep right about now…
Frances gets to his feet, blood sheeting down the entire back of his skull, grinning like a man who has nothing left to lose. He charges!
TUCK SIDESTEPS IT THOUGH! He boots Frances right in the back of the skull to keep him down as Frances slowly comes back onto his knees!
He looks at Tuck! He looks at the chair! And he flips Tuck off!
Tuck winds up!
A SHOT PUT SLAP COMING IN-
FRANCES COMES TO HIS FEET WITH A SICKENING HEADBUTT!
TUCK STUMBLES BACK, STUNNED AS FRANCES GRABS HIM BY THE WRISTS!
THE CROWD IS ROARING AS THEY'RE CHANTING AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS!
"C-T-E! C-T-E! C-T-E!"
JC: BOTH OF THESE MEN MIGHT PASS OUT RIGHT NOW WITH ALL THESE SHOTS TO THE SKULL!
JR: FRANCES IS TRYING TO TAKE TUCK DOWN OR DIE TRYING!
TUCK FINALLY CRUMBLES TO HIS KNEES!
BOTH MEN ARE BLEEDING PROFUSELY NOW! FRANCES SEES THE BLOOD STREAMING DOWN BOTH HIS AND TUCK'S EYES AS HE GRINS!
AND HE ROARS ONE LAST TIME!
AND HE HOISTS TUCK INTO THE AIR, BEFORE FALLING DOWN KNEES-FIRST INTO A PILEDRIVER-
THAT CRATERS TUCK'S SKULL INTO THE STEEL CHAIR!
JC: NO CUSHION PILEDRIVER! NO CUSHION PILEDRIVER! TUCK TAGGART JUST HAD HIS BRAIN SCRAMBLED!
JR: Is this match finally about to end?!
Frances hooks the leg for the pin!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Winner by Pinfall: FRANCES MARIGOLD!
JR: You wanna talk about a barnburner, THAT'S your barnburner!
JC: These two men damn near killed each other to give themselves the fight they were looking for! But it all turned out to be worth it for Frances Marigold with a hard-fought win here tonight!
Frances slumps to his side, a giddy grin stretched over his face as his theme song blares out over the PA system. Ringside medical crew enters inside, taking a moment to look over both men…
Frances shrugs off the help though as he rolls out of the ring! He takes the time to light another cigarette, taking a puff as he raises his fist victoriously into the air! He's barely conscious right about now, but that doesn't stop him from limping his way into the back!
JC: Wow.
JR: Frances is something else, I'll tell you what.
Tuck gets rolled over to the ropes, but as he sees Frances walking off, he comes onto his feet, landing on all fours! He's about to be helped up, but he also shrugs off the help as he wipes some of his stray blood aside, beginning to move to the back himself!
JC: The XWF, folks. The fighters here are as rough-and-tough as they come, and you aren't gonna get action like this anywhere else!
JR: This just gets me excited for what else we got in store tonight, Jack.
JC: You and me both, Joe. Folks, don't change that channel because we'll be right back!
Warfare heads to commerical as Tuck limps off towards the back.
Ring Entrance (PLEASE write one out for use in match/show writing):
The arena lighting dims to black. Pink and silver lightning streak across the screen.
"She went bad
Made her pretty little world turn black
Miss perfect never had a chance
Threw a middle finger up
She's heading to hell anyway"
Twin pink sparkly spotlights hit the entryway as Remi skips out from behind the curtains. She pauses at the top of the ramp, tossing her hair over her shoulder, scanning the screaming audience before her. With a smile, she scampers down towards the ring as the spotlights follow. Once there, she grabs ahold of a post, swinging around it while blowing a kiss to the camera.
She hops up onto the apron and rolls over the top rope. She crosses to the other side, giving a little shimmy dance as she does. She nimbly leaps onto the turnbuckle, lifting both hands over her head and flashing a cocky grin. The spotlights cut out, the lighting strobing pink and silver before returning to normal as Remi steps down onto the mat.
JR: Coming to the ring, is REMI STORM!
JC: Remi has a big personality, a lot of snark, and an endless supply of sass…but will that be enough to get it done in tonight’s triple threat match-up?
JR: Remi Storm is EASILY the most attractive wrestler in this match, and that means, I’m hoping she wins!
JC: Well Joe, she’s up against some stiff, SURGICAL competition tonight…
The Time is now hit's as he walks out on stage. He talks to the cameraman and bounces a little. He holds up his “Never Give Up” logo flag and tosses it to the fans. He salutes and runs straight down towards the ring. He bounces off the ropes side to side and he holds up his “Hustle, Loyalty, and Respect” shirt. He takes off his hat and tosses his shirt to the fans, hands his Chain to the ref, and waits for his opponent to arrive[/align]
JR: It’s the SURGEON of Thug, John Blade! The one and only, in the flesh!
JC: John Blade’s XWF career got off to a hot start when he advanced to the Quarterfinals of the March Madness tournament- but this triple threat could be his biggest challenge yet!
The Physician’s Creed blares through the PA system as a BURST of pyro goes off!
But Doctor Clown, MD is nowhere to be seen on stage…
Because he’s been sitting at ringside all night, serving as the chief physician for tonight’s matches!
Doctor Clown, MD rises from his ringside seat as he waves to the fans. Then, he takes two pills: and if you know, you know.
JC: Wait a second…has this clown been our ringside doctor the whole night?!
JR: It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it!
John Blade
- vs -
Remi Storm
- vs -
Doctor Clown, MD Triple-Threat
The bell rings and chaos is immediate.
John Blade steps forward with confidence, throwing his arms up, playing to the crowd while they’re chanting his name. He even gives a quick salute, nodding as he hears them roaring.
Remi Storm doesn’t wait—she sprints forward and cracks him with a running pump kick that snaps his head back and drops him to a knee before he can even start.
Doctor Clown, MD rolls into the ring carefully, adjusting his oversized gloves and pulling a stethoscope from his coat. He kneels beside Blade, placing the chest piece against Blade’s sternum, nodding with deep concern.
JC: I’m not sure Doctor Clown knows he’s supposed to be fighting John Blade: it looks like he’s trying to give him a check-up!
JR: It’s well known that Clowns are first and foremost concerned with being funny, and secondarily concerned with doing whatever their particular ‘clown’ thing happens to be. Winning a match? That’s only ever a concern for Tries To Win His Matches Clown!
JC: How the heck do you know so much about Clowns, Joe?
JR: I had Podcast Guest Clown on my podcast one time, and he explained the whole thing!
Remi grabs Clown by the collar and yanks him up—
Monkey flip!
Doctor Clown sails across the ring in a rainbow arc, landing awkwardly on his back. He pops up immediately, gives a thumbs up, then checks his own pulse.
Blade charges—Remi pivots—
Rope flip arm drag!
Blade is sent flying across the ring!
JR: Remi Storm must work out a lot, because she’s tossing John Blade all over the ring like a ragdoll!
JC: And he’s twice her size!
Blade scrambles up, stunned, and swings wildly. Remi ducks under, traps the arm—
Hammerlock DDT!
She spikes him hard and floats into a quick cover—
1!
Doctor Clown dives in—not to break the pin—but to gently push Remi aside so he can continue checking Blade’s pulse.
Remi just stares at him.
Doctor Clown nods seriously, then pulls out a penlight and shines it in Blade’s eyes.
Remi blasts the clown with a standing rising knee strike that folds him in half!
JC: Remi Storm has no time for fun and games! She’s here to whoop ass and take names!
JR: I’ve got some bad news for Remi Storm then: because fun and games are all you get out of a clown!
Blade rolls to the outside, regrouping. Remi wastes no time—she hits the ropes—
Diving crossbody through the ropes!
She wipes Blade out on the floor, both crashing hard against the barricade. The impact echoes across the arena as the crowd jumps to their feet!
Doctor Clown leans over the ropes, shaking his head disapprovingly. He pulls out a clipboard and begins scribbling notes, occasionally glancing up and tutting.
Remi is already back on her feet. She grabs Blade, whips him toward the apron—
Blade reverses—
Remi leaps—
Apron shooting star press!
She rotates perfectly and crashes down onto Blade on the floor. The impact is brutal!
Doctor Clown hops out of the ring now, rushing over with a small medical bag. He opens it frantically and pulls out…a rubber chicken. He pauses, confused, shrugs, and squeezes it over Blade’s chest like it’s supposed to help.
Remi ignores the clown, rolls Blade inside and climbs to the top rope in one fluid motion—
Diving double foot stomp!
Right to Blade’s chest.
She hooks the leg—
1!!
2!!
KICKOUT!!!
Blade powers out.
Doctor Clown slides in and immediately puts an ice pack on Blade…then another on Remi…then one on himself.
Remi shoves hers away.
She grabs Blade’s arm and transitions—
Step-up rolling cross armbar!
She cranks back hard. Blade roars, trying to stack her shoulders—
Doctor Clown slides in, waving his hands frantically.
“NO, NO, NO—this is bad for the ligaments!”
He tries to pry Remi off like he’s separating two patients.
Remi releases and immediately blasts Clown with a backflip kick that sends him stumbling into the corner!
JR: Well that was awfully rude of Remi! The clown was only trying to help!
JC: That clown was trying to stop her from winning this match, Joe!
Clown hits the turnbuckles, slumps down…then suddenly pulls out a tiny reflex hammer and taps his own knee. His leg kicks out, hitting the bottom rope. He nods, satisfied.
Blade charges—
Remi counters mid-motion—
Headscissors takedown into single arm DDT!
Blade is planted again.
Remi kips up, but Blade staggers back to his feet fueled by adrenaline. He swings—
Remi ducks—
Springboard dropkick!
Blade is knocked into the ropes.
Doctor Clown returns, holding a large foam neck brace. He tries to put it on Blade while Blade is standing.
Blade shoves him away—
Remi capitalizes—
Gory lift into knee lift!
She hoists Blade up and drives the knee into him, folding him in half!
JR: Some Doctor he is! He just got his patient torn apart by Remi’s knee lift!
JC: John Blade is not his patient, they’re all opponents in this match!
Doctor Clown applauds enthusiastically, then immediately writes “Excellent impact trauma” on his clipboard.
Remi turns—
Clown honks a horn in her face.
She freezes for a second.
Clown grins wider.
Remi grabs him—
Overhead belly to belly!
He flies across the ring, crashing into the turnbuckles upside down.
He slowly slides down, leaving a squeaky noise from the horn in his pocket the whole way.
Blade stumbles in—
Remi traps the arm across the ropes—
Arm bar using the ropes!
She pulls back violently until the referee forces the break.
Doctor Clown rushes over and tries to “assist” by pulling Blade’s arm in the opposite direction, making it worse.
The referee yells at him. Clown apologizes and offers the ref a sticker.
Blade collapses clutching his arm.
Remi drags him up—
Butterfly backbreaker!
She drops him across her knee and immediately transitions—
Triangle sleeper!
She wraps him up tight in the center of the ring.
Blade fades…
Doctor Clown runs in with a reflex hammer again.
He taps Blade’s knee.
Blade’s leg kicks—right into Remi’s face.
The hold breaks.
Remi glares.
Doctor Clown smiles proudly and gives Blade a lollipop.
Blade throws it away instinctively.
JR: It looks like John Blade and Doctor Clown are bonding!
JC: I’m not so sure about that, Joe!
Remi explodes—
Wristlock-counter bridge & overhead kick!
She snaps through the motion, kicking Blade flush and dropping him again.
Doctor Clown gasps like it’s a breakthrough in medicine.
Remi grabs Blade again—
Single arm stretch!
She wrenches back, targeting the already damaged limb.
Doctor Clown crouches beside them, offering verbal encouragement like a coach.
“Breathe! Breathe through the pain!”
Remi looks at him like she might kill him.
Blade tries to power up—he gets to a knee, then a foot—
Remi yanks him down—
Standing rising knee strike!
Doctor Clown claps again, then quickly checks Blade’s pulse mid-match.
Remi pulls Blade up—
Monkey flip again!
Blade crashes hard.
Doctor Clown tries to catch him…fails…then checks the mat for injuries.
Blade stumbles up again—pure instinct now—he lunges—
Remi sidesteps—
Backflip kick!
Blade drops.
Remi hits the ropes—
Springboard dropkick again!
She wipes him out and keeps moving without pause.
Doctor Clown now has a blood pressure cuff wrapped around his own arm, pumping it wildly.
Remi grabs Blade—
Stormchaser!
Utsuri Goshi—
SWINGING SIDE SLAM!
Blade bounces hard.
Remi turns—
Doctor Clown is right there, offering her a lollipop again.
She slaps it out of his hand.
Grabs him—
Stormchaser!
Utsuri Goshi—
SWINGING SIDE SLAM!
Clown bounces off the mat, completely flattened.
Everyone in the arena is on their feet!
But Remi doesn’t go for the pin yet.
Doctor Clown somehow sits up, dizzy, and begins writing his own symptoms down.
Remi climbs to the top rope slowly and deliberately.
JC: Remi Storm is not just going for a win tonight, she’s trying to make a statement!
JR: Warfare is the perfect place to do it! Go big or go home, that’s what I say!
Doctor Clown crawls toward Blade and starts performing what looks like CPR…on Blade’s arm.
Blade weakly tries to push him away.
Remi stands at the top rope.
She leaps.
Twisting.
Flipping.
Perfect.
TWISTED TEMPEST!
The inverted phoenix splash connects clean on Doctor Clown.
She hooks both legs.
1!
2!!
3!!!
Winner: Remi Storm
Remi Storm rolls off, breathing hard but composed. Remi stands tall as the referee raises her hand in victory. Meanwhile, Doctor Clown gives a weak thumbs up from the mat, then pulls out his stethoscope and checks his own heartbeat before nodding like everything is fine.
JC: An impressive showing tonight from Remi Storm! She took on not only the Surgeon of Thug, but also the Doctor Clown himself!
JR: The sky is the limit for Remi, Jacquinde! The sky is the limit!
JC: Folks, this next match features two up-and-coming XWFers that our fans can’t wait to see more of!
JR: But only one can take the win tonight, Jacuinde! And both are determined to be the one that takes it!
The lights dim. A low, almost imperceptible hum of static rolls through the speakers. The crowd murmurs, unsure if this is intentional or a tech glitch.
A single cold white spotlight snaps on, not centered on the stage but slightly off to the left, like production missed their cue or Rowan Vance wasn’t where they expected him to be.
Then the unmistakable bassline of “Psycho Killer” by Talking Heads kicks in.
The crowd reacts instantly, some cheering, some laughing at the unexpected choice, all of them paying attention.
Rowan Vance steps into the light.
Hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted. Expression unreadable, like he’s listening to something only he can hear.
JC: Rowan Vance! He’s not your typical wrestler; he’s quiet! He’s methodical!
JR: And most of all, he’s effective, Jacuinde! He looked dominant in his debut against Ennui Clown! But is it just beginner’s luck? Or will the pride of Harper’s Ferry claim another victory tonight?
He doesn’t pose, he just starts walking. Slow, steady, deliberate. Sometimes a hand will come out to slap fives or fist bump those in the crowd.
Every few steps, he glances over his shoulder, not dramatically, just a subtle, instinctive check, like he heard a footstep behind him.
The spotlight follows him, but always a fraction of a second late, giving the whole thing a slightly off‑kilter, uncanny rhythm.
As he reaches the ramp, the lighting shifts: a faint blue haze rolls across the stage, giving him a silhouette that looks almost doubled, like someone is walking just behind him.
The crowd can’t tell if it’s a trick of the lights or something else.
Rowan reaches ringside. He pauses as the chorus hits that jittery, staccato vocal rhythm.
He still doesn’t position himself for photo opportunities, doesn’t smirk, just stops, his head turning slightly like he’s trying to locate a sound in the rafters.
Then he slides under the bottom rope with the same quiet, fluid motion he does everything else… As he stands, the arena lights flicker, just once.
Not enough to scream “supernatural.” Just enough to make the audience shift in their seats. Rowan doesn’t react, he’s used to it.
He walks to his corner, leans back against the turnbuckles, and waits, hands still in his pockets, eyes scanning the arena like he’s cataloguing every noise, every movement, every pattern.
The music fades. The static hum returns for half a second, then there's silence, and Rowan Vance is ready.
…
When Booyka 619 hit's he walks out on stage and kneels down on one knee and prays. He gets up and points to the Fans in Pyro fireworks burst open and switch to the other side of the stage in does the same thing in
JC: El Landerson! The Bit Luchador! Among those we see wrestling and aligning themselves with American Storm, Landerson might be the quickest! Might be the most dynamic!
JR: He’s quicker than a bullet’s hiccup, Jacuinde! But he’s got a unique challenge tonight! Landerson needs to be faster than Vance can plan! And that might prove impossible, even for a speed demon like Landerson!
after he was done he slowly walks down the ramp in slaps some little kids high fives and he stops and stares at the kid in hands him his Luchdor Mask to him and heads straight towards the ring and hops on the turnbuckle and pose both fingers in mid air and walks to the other side turnbuckle in does the same thing mid finger in the air in he gets down and wait for his Opponent arrive.
Rowan Vance
- vs -
El Landerson X-Treme Rules
JC: Ladies and gentlemen, this is an X-Treme Rules match, which means anything goes. No disqualifications, no countouts, and these two competitors could use the entire arena as a weapon.
JR: Vance looks like a guy who’s going to treat this a chess puzzle, Jacuinde. He’s thinking about which wrist he should be leading with in the very first grapple attempt to maximize his chance of success… Meanwhile Landerson looks like he’s trying to figure out how to jam more than one triple backflip into this match!
Rowan Vance stands still in the center of the ring, shoulders relaxed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies the masked figure across from him. His head tilts a fraction, like he’s solving a puzzle. The calm focus on his face suggests curiosity more than aggression.
Across from him, El Landerson bounces lightly on his feet. Even through the mask, the exaggerated nodding of his head and the puffed-out chest scream confidence. He points at himself, then gestures to the ropes and the crowd, soaking in the cheers from fans waving tiny lucha masks.
For a brief moment the arena goes quiet except for the restless hum of the crowd.
Then, the bell rings.
Rowan Vance
- vs -
El Landerson X-Treme Rules
HIGHLIGHT REEL
The moment the bell rings, Rowan lunges forward, his hands surging toward Landerson!
Landerson’s hands try to meet Vance’s grapple… but Vance’s hand wrap around Landerson’s shoulder aaaaaaand!
WHAM! He snaps off a lightning-fast arm drag, flipping Landerson across the mat! The movement is so quick it almost looks like a reflex!
JC: Wow! The first move goes to Landerson’s opponent, and I never thought I’d say that during an El Landerson match!
JR: Don’t mix up ‘thoughtful’ with ‘slow’, Jacuinde! Yes, Rowan’s a deep thinker, but all that thought goes into achieving victory efficiently! The purity of a well-executed gameplan!
Landerson lands hard, rolling to his feet.
The luchador’s mask tilts toward Rowan and his shoulders tense, clearly surprised. His hands slap his thighs as if dusting himself off after getting chucked across the ring…
Vance doesn’t even smirk at the gesture, quietly observing…
In a fashion that could only be described as ¡‘mucho rapidamente!’, Landerson bursts forward!
He leaps into a…
TILT-A-WHIEL HEADSCISSORS TAKEDOWN, whipping Rowan around and sending him skidding across the mat.
…But Rowan rolls through the momentum.
JC: Impressive agility by Vance! He managed to roll and spread the impact through his body, so he wouldn’t get SMACKED on the mat!
The quiet technician’s eyes widen just a touch, impressed. He nods once to himself as he rises, acknowledging the speed.
But his brow furrows slightly, calculating.
The two competitors circle, before Rowan steps forward again!
Vance feints a lockup, then pivots suddenly into a Russian leg sweep, snapping Landerson backward onto the canvas!
Landerson hits the mat with a slap.
JC: Who would have thought Rowan Vance would be controlling the pace and tempo of this match, Joe?
JR: Rowan Vance IS control! He’s calculating to a fault! And for all of Landerson’s Lucha showmanship, it’s all within the parameters of Rowan’s ability to plan and neutralize!
Landerson sits up immediately, clutching the back of his head. His shoulders rise and fall rapidly as frustration creeps into his body language.
He glances toward the ropes.
A mischievous idea seems to spark.
Landerson sprints, do the sign of the cross as he runs!
JC: Landerson going for a running attack!
JR: He might as well mail Vance his attack plan! Vance has already mapped it out, Jacuinde!
Landerson runs at Vance looking for a…
Handspring Elbow!
…Nope! Vance bends at the waist… and sends Landerson up and over! Back body drop!
…Wait! No! Landerson LANDS on his feet! In an impressive triple backflip!
JC: Hey! Landerson found a way to squeeze in that triple backflip, Joe!
Landerson rebounds off the ropes, plants his feet on the middle rope, and leaps off into a springboard somersault crossbody!
Rowan turns… his eyes widen with surprise!
WHAM! The impact crushes him to the mat.
JR: Oh my GOD! Landerson just turned himself into a human cannonball!
JC: The agility of El Landerson is remarkable!
Landerson pops to his feet, chest puffed up again. He gestures to the crowd triumphantly.
With Rowan prone in the center of the ring, Landerson leaps off the apron, onto the top rope…
SPRINGBOARD LEG DROP!
JR: That could do it if it connects!
…
LANDERSON CONNECTS!
…
With nothing but mat! At the last moment, Vance rolls out of harm’s way!
JC: The key word there was ‘if’, Joe! Landerson went to the high risk district and paid the price!
Landerson’s face contorts in pain, visible even through his Lucha mask… As Vance rises!
He suddenly springs up behind Landerson.
With surgical speed, Rowan hooks the waist and launches him backward with Nightfall Snap, the snap German suplex spiking Landerson’s shoulders into the mat!
Landerson’s legs kick wildly as he lands!
The official drops to count!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NO! Somehow, Landerson kicks out!
His body curls instinctively, clutching his neck.
His masked head shakes as if trying to clear the stars.
Vance goes for a sweeping kick to clip Landeron’s legs!
But Landerson agilely leaps up and over!
Then his posture shifts again.
Stubborn pride takes over.
Landerson leaps up to the second rope!
He back flips off!
—spinning midair into a diving HURRICANRANA! Rowan Vance gets flipped across the ring, landing awkwardly!
JC: Landerson is climbing back into the driver’s seat, move by move!
JR: Vance is a plotter and a planner and a foreseer! But to foresee what your opponent is going to do next, your opponent has to do know what they’re going to do next! And Landerson has no clue what he’s gonna do except make it look LUCHA AS FUCK!
Vance’s eyes flash with pain as his ribs hit the canvas.
Landerson scrambles up, sensing opportunity! He springs past Rowan!
As Rowan’s face tightens into determination… Slowly pulling himself off the mat!
Landerson does a handspring, rebounding off the ropes!
As Vance spins around to face Landerson!
Landerson goes for another…
HANDSPRING ELBOW!
…But Rowan ducks!
Rowan leaps!
RIVERBEND CUTTER!
The springboard cutter spikes Landerson face-first into the mat.
The crowd explodes.
JR: OH! That cutter was as beautiful as it was devastating!
JC: Rowan Vance continues to demonstrate incredible timing!
Rowan looks up at the crowd for just a moment, before crawling forward for the cov-
…No! Landerson cleverly rolls shoulder-over-shoulder toward the ropes…
Landerson rolls out of the ring, clutching his jaw!
JC: Cunning strategy by Landerson! Buying himself some recovery time!
Outside the ring, Landerson bends forward, hands on his knees.
Frustration radiates from his posture…
From inside the ring, Rowan reaches over the top rope to pul Landerson back into the ring…
But Landerson deadweights himself! Pulling Vance down, throat-first over the top rope!
Vance rebounds back towards the center of the ring!
…Meanwhile, Landerson reaches under the apron… And retrieves…
A STEEL FOLDING CHAIR!
JR: Folks, if you forgot this match was X-Treme Rules, El Landerson did not!
A dangerous grin seems to form beneath the mask.
Landerson grabs the chair and slides back into the ring.
Rowan pulls himself up to his feet slowly…
As Landerson swings…
…
Rowan ducks! The chair whiffs through empty air!
Rowan spins—
Pattern Breaker!
JC: SUPERKICK! SUPERKICK! Rowan Vance caught Landerson square with that one!
His counter superkick blasts Landerson in the jaw mid-motion.
The chair clatters across the mat.
Landerson collapses to one knee…. Some way managing to stay on his feet… But he looks dazed… Like his mind is ready to drop but his body refuses!
Vance traps Landerson’s arm.
He rolls sideways and drags him down.
Rowan twists the arm into a brainbuster setup.
He hoists—
Brainbuster!
Landerson lands violently, his limbs splay out!
The luchador writhes on the mat.
Rowan floats into the cover!
The referee counts.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Winner: Rowan Vance
The bell rings.
Rowan releases the pin slowly.
He rises to his feet, breathing hard but expression steady.
JC: What an incredible X-Treme Rules contest! El Landerson pulled out every stop he could! But Rowan Vance saw those stops and knew exactly how to keep the match under his control!
[white]JR: Man, Rowan Vance is terrifying in that calm way. Like a detective who solves crimes by suplexing people! Except instead of crimes, it’s opponents! And instead of solving them, he beats them with wrestling moves! And instead of a detective he’s a wrestler!
JC: Joe, what did we say about analogies before the broadcast?
JR: …*sigh*...If the analogy ends up with the comparison you’re making being what’s actually happening, think of another analogy…
“Martin had a dream…”
The beat drops like a hammer as the crowd goes wild. The stans in the stands bop up and down to the iconic Sweatpants beat while rapping along to Kendrick’s Backseat Freestyle verse. The mashup highlights both how similar and dysfunctional this pairing is.
White-hot strobes flash, timed perfectly to every thump of the bass. There’s no warm up, The Exiles are approaching and everyone knows it.
“All my life, I want money and power
Respect my mind or die from lead shower”
The screen glitches to life, a black background with a grey logo and some words:
“The Exiles
Not a choice, a sentence.”
Two spotlights snap on from opposite ends of the stage, on the left: Sebastian Everett-Bryce, dressed in a long black coat. His chin tilts upwards slightly, a wry smile pastered on it - hiding his disdain for this situation. He adjusts the arms on his coat mid-stride, as he makes his way down to the ring. The shining tag-belt glimmers from his waist.
On the right: Isaiah King, no cape or theatrics, simply a weathethered grey leather jacket over some wrestling tights and boxing boots. He glances at the name on the screen and shows visible disgust, he carries the tag belt by the strap.
“Gadamn I feel amazin’”
They converge halfway down the way but don’t acknowledge each other, not a glance or a nod.
JR: These two might wanna pretend they're on the same page for once, but they've got a hell of a job cut out for them tonight!
JC: It's do or die time for the Exiles. They have the potential to get themselves right back on track with a huge win tonight!
The crowd’s noise is deafening - divided and rowdy. Some bounce to the beat, others boo like they’re watching two egos that deserve to eat each other alive.
As the two get to the ring, Isaiah slides through the bottom ropes while SEB makes his way to the stairs for a more graceful entry. They both make their way to the centre of the ring, faces cracking at the discomfort before shifting to accommodate the other.
Isaiah lifts the belt up into the air while Sebastian spreads his coat to draw attention to the other half as their theme slowly comes to a quiet.
Korvayne's ring music plays and she is appalled by the reaction the fans give her as she heads to the ring, and she spends a lot of needless time arguing with the fans. Her new Simp is beside her, literally bowing to her as she walks. Korvayne is about to get into the ring… but she stops right before it, pointing to the entranceway.
JR: So… who's Korvayne got up her sleeve as a mystery partner here tonight?
JC: She's gotta be confident about whoever she picked if she went ahead with this match. Korvayne might be too confident for her own good, but you can't say she lacks guts to make this challenge!
JC and JR: WHAT?!
JC: Korvayne just picked one-half of the tag champions as her partner! Even though she's wanting a shot at the tag titles! Does… does this mean she's sided with B.O.B.?!
JR: I don't think so, but… Charlie Nickles seems eager for a round two match with the Exiles!
Charlie rushes out from the back as he maniacally grins at all the people in attendance! He takes one look at Korvayne, nodding with her as they share a look at the Exiles who welcome the chance to try and get a getback here tonight! Kor and Charlie make their way inside of the ring as the music comes to a close!
There's a loud buzzing in the air at Charlie Nickles' arrival, circling around the ring and shouting at both Isaiah and Sebastian! The pair scowl at Charlie before talking over some last-minute strategy, trying to make sure they're on the same page for once here.
JC: I swear, out of all the names Korvayne had to pick, one-half of the Tag Team champions had to be towards the bottom…
JR: Well, Jack, Korvayne clearly wants to try to win at all costs here so she can get her name on the map here in XWF! And really, I'd say picking one of the guys who just beat the two of them is a sound strategy towards that end.
JC: Maybe so, but these two are gonna have a long way towards making this happen…
The starting partners are set!
Korvayne insists on starting things off for now to which Charlie reluctantly agrees, while Sebastian Everett-Bryce takes the lead for the Exiles!
Korvayne and a Mystery Partner(???)
- vs - The Exiles
Sebastian Everett-Bryce and Isaiah King Standard Tag
HIGHLIGHT REEL
DING! DING! DING!
The pair circle around the ring, a confident grin on Korvayne's face while SEB is all business. SEB offers for a lock-up, looking to get right into his wheelhouse, which Kor cringes at the thought of getting so close to SEB like that. She hesitates, before a distant wheezing from ringside makes itself known.
"You c-c-can d-do it, my Kween!"
Kor flashes an award-winning smile towards her simp at ringside, flicking her hair for emphasis as she feels a burst of confidence shooting through her. She looks back towards SEB-
-ONLY FOR SEB TO IMMEDIATELY GRAB HER BY THE ARM AND PUT HER IN A WRIST LOCK!
JC: Too slow from Korvayne! You can't take your eyes off the prize in a match like this!
JR: SEB's ultra-focused tonight, Jack. He's got a date with Scoops McGee come Leap of Faith and he's gotta make sure he's got all the momentum heading into it!
Korvayne is wincing in the hold, yelling all sorts of obscenities at SEB as he proceeds to keep the hold locked in tight! He goes backwards, now cinching in a hammerlock to try and keep the pressure on! Kor reaches to the ropes, finding none in sight as she holds onto her shoulder to keep it in one piece!
SEB goes to bring Korvayne down to the ground-
BACK ELBOW CATCHES HIM ON THE JAW!
SEB looks stunned as he blinks!
JC: Korvayne caught him by surprise!
JR: Looks like she's got a mean elbow, I'll tell you that much!
Korvayne manages to successfully twist herself around, grinning as she holds SEB close by the hair, getting a quick and dirty eye rake out of overt view of the referee as she manages to drop the Emperor down with a Jawbreaker!
SEB holds onto his eyes as he falls, and the ref immediately comes in, shouting at Korvayne who innocently holds her hands up as she backs away, talking to the ref!
SEB takes a long look at Korvayne, having to readjust his thoughts on the fly as he slowly nods. He looks to try and get back up, but from behind! It's Korvayne's simp who takes off a sweaty neck tie as he tries to wrap it around SEB's neck!
JC: What is that man doing?!
JR: He's trying to prove himself to his 'Kween' right about now, that's what!
SEB struggles in the hold while Isaiah tries to get the ref's attention! SEB looks at the Simp, managing to get him off with a big right hand that drops the fat boy as he has to cough for air. Charlie is loving the sight of all of this as he enthusiastically claps his hands on the apron. Isaiah, meanwhile, looks closer to a stone slab with how his face doesn't move.
Kor and SEB lock eyes as SEB comes back to his feet, nodding and mouthing 'Alright' to her.
Kor takes the lead this time, looking for a HUGE flying clothesline!
SEB ducks underneath, smooth as butter as Korvayne ends up throwing herself into the nearby turnbuckle! She winces, letting SEB come back up as he measures her in the corner… HUGE roundhouse kick to the gut now!
Korvayne hisses, letting SEB throw another roundhouse! And another! And another!
SEB backs up… measures his target… GOES RUNNING IN FOR A YAKUZA KICK!
BUT KORVAYNE ROARS OUT OF THE CORNER TO HIT SEB WITH A REVERSE STO INTO THE MIDDLE TURNBUCKLE!
AGAIN SEB gets caught by surprise as he holds onto his chin now, gritting his teeth! Korvayne doesn't hesitate as she grabs SEB by the hair again, running out of the corner… HUGE bulldog!
JC: Korvayne's using every ounce of movement and trickery she can try to pull off here, but so far, she's hanging with the big boys.
JR: Korvayne bet on herself when she made this challenge, and so far, I'd say it's paying off!
Korvayne has a narrow upper hand right now, clawing at the skin on SEB's back as he howls!
JC: Korvayne's got those nine-inch nails and she's sinking them right into SEB's skin! You can even see the blood start to come out right about now!
JR: Using anything in the rulebook to try and help her case…
Kor quickly looks for the follow-up, yoinking up SEB from behind and looking for an Atomic Drop, but SEB comes back to life as he backflips out of it! Korvayne's face flashes in a mix of recognition and horror as SEB applies a waist lock of his own!
GERMAN!
SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPLEX!
JC: But you can never fully count out SEB though, Joe!
JR: That's a 'welcome to the XWF' moment if I ever saw one! Korvayne just got dropped on her neck!
SEB goes to grab at Kor, but she shows some rare veteran instinct as she manages to roll out of the ring! The referee stops SEB from going after her as he yells at her to come back into the ring, but Korvayne has other plans! She walks right to her Simp, producing crocodile tears and sniffling as she lets him look over her makeup!
JC: …Does this have any place in this right about now?
JR: Well, she looks clearly rattled, so I don't blame her for trying to get her bearings back right about now!
SEB looks clearly fed up with the ref as he proceeds to begin counting. He's about to go out there himself as-
REVERSE DDT BY CHARLIE NICKLES! THE NICKLEMAN DROPS SEB RIGHT ON HIS OWN NECK! KING GOES AFTER CHARLIE BUT HE SLIDES OUT OF THE RING AND CACKLING!
King scowls at Charlie, before rolling out of the ring on the opposite side. Korvayne has magically evaporated all her tears and looks to try and get back into the ring, but King manages to run his way towards her! He yanks her by the ankle off the apron, before grabbing HER by the hair now and throwing her back into the metal guard rail!
JR: Now how's that for a sneak attack, Jack?
JC: About even after that bastard Charlie Nickles dropped SEB like a sack of potatoes!
JR: Careful on how loud you call him that, Jack! …He might think you're complimenting him.
Korvayne's Simp isn't going to let this grave injustice go unanswered, though! He immediately pounces on Isaiah King, taking him down as he throws wild blows down onto him! Isaiah quickly manages to cover up before any real damage comes, before using his strength to throw him off with a monkey flip!
King is back on his corner, calling for the tag to SEB as he quickly moves himself over! Charlie is still on the outside, but throws the dazed Korvayne with force back into the ring, right by his own corner so he can forcibly tag himself in!
TAG!
JR: The Nickleman's been looking to try and get his here! No doubt he's wanting to try and end the Exiles after everything!
JC: It clearly wasn't enough just taking their titles away from them…
Charlie grabs SEB by the ankle and forcibly drags him right back into the middle of the ring! SEB looks back at Charlie with anger and quickly goes for an enzuigiri!
Charlie ducks!
SEB pushes him off!
Charlie bounces off the ropes as SEB comes back to his feet!
Running Big Boot!
Is ducked!
Charlie turns around RIGHT INTO A ROUNDHOUSE FROM SEB!
Charlie takes the blow though and moves to give SEB a huge elbow!
Kick!
Elbow!
Kick!
Elbow!
Kick!
Elbow!
Kick!
Elbow!
Kick!
Elbow!
Kick!
Elbow!
Kick!
Elb- Kick! Kick! Kick!
JC: SEB is finding that extra bit of energy right about now!
JR: Charlie can take a beating though, that's for sure. His pain management is one of the best!
Charlie ROARS though as he winds back for a huge HEADBUTT right between the eyes of SEB! He staggers back, cross-eyed…
BEFORE HE TAKES CHARLIE DOWN WITH A DROPKICK!
CHARLIE'S DOWN!
SEB CLAWS HIS WAY TO ISAIAH!
REACHES FORWARD…
TAG!
ISAIAH KING COMES BACK IN AS CHARLIE GETS BACK TO HIS FEET AND A BARRAGE OF HEAVY RIGHTS AND LEFTS COME DOWN TO HIS GUT!
CHARLIE GETS BACKED INTO THE CORNER AS KING CONTINUES HIS ASSAULT! THE REF TRIES TO SEPARATE THE TWO!
He manages to come right in between the two, prying them apart…
CHEAP OPEN-PALMED SLAP BY CHARLIE!
JC: It's like Charlie's trying to incite that house on fire right now!
JR: Well. A good champ doesn't back down from any challenge.
JC: Something tells me it's a bit more complicated than that…
Charlie is running around the ring to lead King with him! King is in a dead sprint to try and take Charlie's head off with everything he's got! He levels Korvayne's Simp with a rolling elbow before he continues his chase!
He runs right into Korvayne though!
STANDING DROPKICK RIGHT TO THE JAW!
ISAIAH DOESN'T FALL THOUGH!
Korvayne pops back up, getting a running start to hit another dropkick!
Isaiah staggers back, but he still hasn't fallen!
Korvayne doesn't miss a beat though as she runs for the barricade, hopping off of it to deliver a springboard dropkick! That one finally drops Isaiah as he's out on the outside, trying to get his bearings back!
But that just allows Korvayne to go onto the top turnbuckle, sizing up her mark as she slowly rises, ignoring the ref shouting at her to get down from there…
MISSILE DROPKICK RIGHT TO ISAIAH KING!
JC: IT'S DROPKICK CITY OUT HERE, FOLKS! Korvayne had to practically throw out the kitchen sink to try and drop Isaiah King there!
JR: Korvayne's a damn good teammate, though! Look at Charlie!
Sure enough, Charlie is in the middle of the ring, yawning and posing as he's lying down, managing to catch his breath after a long run around the ring. He checks an imaginary time on his watch as the ringside camera slowly zooms in on him.
Charlie notices as he grins down the lens.
"Don't you guys know what time it is?"
He chuckles.
"It's time to kill the Exiles!"
JC: Well, I don't like the sound of that.
JR: This goes deeper than just beyond the squared circle though, Jack. This is a matter of family at this point, for both sides really!
Charlie rolls out of the ring, ignoring Korvayne's writhing body as he yanks up Isaiah, driving him into the metal guard rail as he lays on some heavy shoulder thrusts right to the midsection. Isaiah hacks and heaves, feeling the punishment his ribs are taking as Charlie keeps him softened up.
Charlie rolls Isaiah back into the ring, watching as he tries to collect his bearings… he won't get the opportunity to collect himself fully though, as Charlie comes off the ropes and hits a HUGE leg drop!
JR: That's Hogan-style, brrrrrrrrrother!
JC: 275 lbs of damage crashing down on Isaiah King's neck and chest right about now. It's no wonder that he's having trouble breathing in the ring.
Charlie goes for the pin!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
JR: Isaiah stays alive… for now.
Isaiah is stuck in enemy territory right now, held up against the turnbuckle by Charlie Nickles! He gives a boot to the midsection, causing Isaiah to fall down as he starts delivering a flurry of boots to him!
But he's not stopping! The referee begins to have to count Charlie out!
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-
TAG!
In comes Korvayne! She slides in, takes one look at Isaiah King, and shrugs! SHE STARTS POUNDING AWAY AT HIM WITH BOOTS, TOO!
JC: This is like a gang assault right now! King doesn't even have a chance to catch his breath!
JR: You gotta bring a lot to keep the King down though, Jack! Brilliant teamwork by these two!
The referee begins to try and count Korvayne out now as she continues hammering King with boots!
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-
TAG!
In comes Charlie now! He picks up right where Korvayne left off with more boots!
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-
TAG!
Korvayne now!
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-
TAG!
Charlie now!
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-
TAG!
Korvayne again!
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-
Korvayne runs off the ropes, moving away from the staggered King as she hits a BEAUTIFUL falling clothesline to him! Korvayne slides out from between the first and second rope as she does so, landing on her feet on the outside of the ring as she poses right next to the coughing and wheezing Isaiah!
JR: She's beautiful, she's smart, she's athletic as hell, she's got tons of sass, what more can you ask for?
JC: A good sense of morals?
JR: I think she knows all about morals, she just doesn't give a damn enough to follow them.
Kor comes back to Isaiah though, grabbing him by the back of his head and literally jamming it right into the middle turnbuckle! He grabs his head, protecting it as he rolls right back to the center of the ring!
SEB is trying to will the crowd into giving Isaiah enough energy to try and make the tag, but Korvayne is right there! She stands right over Isaiah, paintbrushing him with a huge slap across the face! Another comes! And Korvayne-
ISAIAH PUSHES HER LEGS OUT FROM UNDER HER! KORVAYNE FALLS INTO A HUGE GUILLOTINE CHOKE! THE FANS GO ABSOLUTELY INSANE AS ISAIAH KING COMES BACK TO LIFE OUT OF NOWHERE!
JC: GUILLOTINE! GUILLOTINE! THAT'S SOMETHING STRAIGHT OUT OF HIS ORIGINAL FINISHER, THE G.O.D.!
JR: Korvayne's feeling the pressure right about now! She wanted top billing, these are the dangers that come with it!
Kor tries to reach for the ropes! They're too far as King cinches the hold in deeper! She continues to flail, ignoring the crowd telling her to tap and the ref asking if she gives up! She's trying to reach for it, but she's just not there!
BUT WAIT! KORVAYNE'S SIMP ON THE OUTSIDE! HE PUSHES THE ROPE FURTHER INTO THE RING!
AND RIGHT INTO KORVAYNE'S GRASP!
THE REF IS NONE TOO PLEASED BUT THAT'S A ROPE BREAK NONETHELESS AS THE FANS CONTINUE TO BOO!
JR: Well, Korvayne clearly planned for those pressures! Good on her!
JC: And Isaiah King looks none too pleased right about now! Deservedly so!
King reluctantly releases the guillotine on Korvayne, the two slowly having to push themselves back to their feet…
Another slap from Korvayne!
BUT KING ABSOLUTELY DECKS HER WITH A HAYMAKER!
KORVAYNE SOMEHOW DOESN'T GO DOWN THOUGH?!
SHE RUSHES BACK TO DELIVER A BACK ELBOW WITH THE LAST OF HER STRENGTH!
BUT NOW IT'S KING WHO DOESN'T FALL AS HE ROARS!
JAB! CROSS! JAB TO THE GUT! HOOK UPSTAIRS! UPPERCUT DOWNSTAIRS! JAB! JAB! HAYMAKERRRRRRRRR! BOTH FIGHTERS COLLAPSE IN THE CENTER OF THE RING AGAIN AS THE FANS GO CRAZY!
JC: Those punches were LIGHTNING!
JR: Took a lot to take Kor down, but can Isaiah capitalize on it?
Both Korvayne and Isaiah are moving towards their own corners! Scratching! Clawing to try and make the tag!
…
DOUBLE TAG!
THE ROOF COMES UNGLUED AS BOTH SEB AND CHARLIE FORCE THEIR WAY INSIDE ONE MORE TIME!
CHARLIE HITS A RIGHT HAND TO START! GOES FOR A SECOND- SEB BLOCKS IT!
FOREARM BY SEB CREATES SEPARATION! QUESTION MARK KICK HITS CHARLIE RIGHT ON THE SHOULDER AS HE HISSES!
SEB RUNS THE ROPES- BACK ELBOW BY CHARLIE- SEB DUCKS UNDERNEATH- CHARLIE TURNS AROUND-
BOOT TO THE GUT!
DDT!
AND THE ARENA IS AT A FEVER PITCH AS
SEB
KIPS
UP!
HE HOLDS HIS POSE, DRINKING IN THE APPLAUSE AS HE BOWS!
JC: The Star of Stage and Screen knows how to give a show!
JR: King held out for this long, now it's up to him to try and seal the deal!
Charlie comes right back up to his feet, gritting his teeth as he tries again for another right hand!
SEB catches the arm though! ARM TRIANGLE SUPLEX TAKES CHARLIE DOWN TO THE MAT AS HE BOUNCES OFF!
Charlie's irate as he comes back to his feet in the corner, but SEB is right there! He forcefully drags Charlie out, nailing him with a beautiful belly-to-belly!
Pure rage drives Charlie to his feet one more time as SEB sweeps behind the Nickleman, looking for a German!
BACK ELBOW BY CHARLIE AS HE FIGHTS HIS WAY OUT! SEB STAGGERS BACK! CHARLIE COMES ALIVE AS SEB MOVES BACK ON THE REBOUND! SIDEWALK SLAM!
JC: At any moment in a match, Charlie Nickles can turn the advantage right into his favor! He'll stop at nothing to win!
JR: And that's exactly what earned him the win last time to get the tag titles! He just needs to finish the job he started back at March Madness!
Charlie hooks the leg!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Charlie looks pissed off as he slaps the mat and argues with the ref! But that leaves his back open as SEB wraps his legs around Charlie!
EMPEROR LOCK!
JC: BOTH EXILES ARE TOO DAMN GOOD AT LOCKING IN SUBMISSION HOLDS OUT OF NOWHERE!
JR: CHARLIE CAN'T BELIEVE IT! LOOK AT HIM TRYING TO CLAW AT SEB'S ARM!
IT'S NO USE AS SEB TIGHTENS HIS GRIP ON THE HOLD!
CHARLIE'S FACE TURNS A BRIGHT RED! BUT HE'S NOT GIVING UP EVEN AS HE'S BEING CHOKED OUT!
THE REF IS IN CHARLIE'S FACE TO ASK IF HE'LL GIVE UP!
BUT BOTH SIDES ARE HOLDING FIRM!
JC: SOMETHING'S GOTTA GIVE HERE, FOLKS!
KORVAYNE BREAKS THE HOLD WITH A LEG DROP!
JR: SHE JUST CHANNELED HER PARTNER WITH THAT LEG DROP, BROTHER!
SEB staggers his way back to his feet, but Korvayne is still right there with a CODEBREAKER!
JC: Leonardo's Lament hits to perfection!
JR: Like an artist pouring her soul into her work!
SEB staggers his way back into the corner, and Isaiah King is fired up as SEB stretches his hand out for him!
TAG!
KING MOVES IN!
RUNNING GUT PUNCH TO CHARLIE!
HOOK TO KORVAYNE!
CROSS TO CHARLIE!
A FLURRY OF JABS TO KORVAYNE!
JC: Isaiah King is willing to take on both fighters here!
UPPERCUT TO CHARLIE!
HAYMAKER TO KORVAYNE!
DUCKED!
KORVAYNE PUSHES ISAIAH BACK INTO CHARLIE AS SHE ESCAPES ONTO THE RING APRON!
CHARLIE TURNS ISAIAH AROUND THOUGH!
HOOKS THE ARMS FOR THE DEVIL HOOK DROP!
ISAIAH TWISTS OUT OF IT THOUGH!
BOOT TO THE GUT!
TWIRLS AROUND!
DISCUS PUNCH PRACTICALLY KNOCKS CHARLIE OUT!
JC: THAT'S THE ROYAL VERDICT!
JR: Isaiah can't pass this opportunity up!
Charlie's already rolling into his corner though! Korvayne grits her teeth as she reaches over the top rope!
TAG!
IN COMES KORVAYNE!
ISAIAH TRIES TO GO FOR A KNEE, BUT SHE SIDESTEPS!
BOOT TO THE GUT!
EVENFLOW DDT-
KING TWISTS OUT!
HE'S GOT KORVAYNE FROM BEHIND!
DRAGON SLEEPER LOCKED IN!
JC: I SAID THE EXILES WERE TOO DAMN GOOD AT LOCKING IN HOLDS OUT OF NOWHERE! KING'S GOT THE ROYAL INQUISITION LOCKED IN!
JR: IS KORVAYNE ABOUT TO TAP OUT?!
KOR STRUGGLES IN THE HOLD, BUT SHE DOES NOT BUDGE! SHE TRIES TO KEEP HERSELF COOL AND CALM AS SHE WALKS FORWARD! BUT THAT'S EASIER SAID THAN DONE AS KING APPLIES ALL HIS WEIGHT DOWN ON HER!
JC: CAN KORVAYNE PULL OFF A MIRACLE HERE?!
JR: NO SHAME IN TAPPING HERE! THE ROYAL INQUISITION HAS ENDED SO MANY MATCHES BEFORE!
BUT ON THE APRON! IT'S KORVAYNE'S SIMP! HE'S GOT HIS HANDS ON THE MIDDLE ROPE AS HE TALKS SMACK TO KING!
KING KEEPS THE HOLD LOCKED IN BUT HE TALKS RIGHT BACK TO THE SIMP!
THE REF YELLS AT HIM TO GET OFF BUT IT'S A GOOD ENOUGH DISTRACTION FOR HIM TO PUSH THE MIDDLE ROPE FORWARD!
KORVAYNE KICKS HER LEG ONTO IT, BOOT PRESSED ON IT INSTEAD OF ABOVE IT LIKE SHE WANTED!
SHE INSTINCTIVELY KICKS BACK ON THE ROPE WHICH TAKES HER RIGHT BACK INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE RING!
BUT SHE ROLLS OVER AND PUTS HER WEIGHT ON ISAIAH'S SHOULDERS TO PIN HIM TO THE MAT!
JC: SHE JUST COUNTERED THE ROYAL INQUISITION!
JR: IF THAT'S NOT A MIRACLE HERE THEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS!
BUT THE HOLD IS STILL APPLIED AS THE PIN IS IN PLACE!
ONE!
SEB AND CHARLIE BOTH RUSH INTO THE RING!
TWO!
THEY TACKLE EACH OTHER AND START TO BRAWL AS THEY CLEAR THE WAY FOR THEIR PARTNERS!
THREE AS KORVAYNE TAPS OUT?!
JR: WOAH!
JC: KORVAYNE DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH TO GIVE! VETERAN INSTINCT COULD HAVE SAVED HER!
JR: BUT SHE GOT THE THREE-COUNT!
JC: BUT SHE TAPPED OUT!
The referee looks at both sides, King letting go of the hold as him and Korvayne both raise their hands!
He takes a moment…
BEFORE HE COUNTS IT AS A DRAW!
Winner: DRAW!
JR: WHAT?!
JC: Korvayne just went the distance with three Universal Champs in the ring and came out the other side in one piece! But the Exiles haven't died yet either!
Korvayne’s simp is close behind her, telling her how great of a job she did despite the draw.
JC: Korvayne’s simp looks completely overjoyed after this massive draw in the tag division!
JR: As he should be! Korvayne just accomplished something incredible, and now, she’s positioned herself as a potential contender to the tag-team championships!
But like a snake slithering in the grass, The Nickleman is slowly moving into position behind them.
Out of nowhere, Charlie grabs Korvayne’s simp before spinning him around and delivering a stiff kick to his gut! The simp keels over in pain, and Charlie hooks his arms-
INTO A DEVIL HOOK DROP!
JC: OH MY GOD!
The simp’s head slams against the canvas, bouncing off the mat with a sickening thud as Charlie delivers his devastating finisher!
The crowd gasps in shock as Korvayne turns around to see the wreckage of her simp left in Charlie’s wake.
Korvayne’s hands immediately fly up to her mouth in horror!
JR: Get out of there, Korvayne! Charlie has that evil look in his eye again!
Charlie scrambles up after the Devil Hook Drop, reaching out to grab Korvayne- but she’s too quick! She ducks away from The Nickleman before rolling under the bottom rope, and making a beeline straight up the ramp!
Korvayne’s speedy flight up the ramp leaves Charlie eating her dust!
JC: Smart move from the rookie! She got out of there before things really got ugly!
JR: But wait a second! Who’s that spilling out from the back?!
JC: Oh no….oh no!
IT’S THE BROTHERHOOD OF BASTARDS!
JORDAN PENN, JENNY MYST, AND MR. OZ ARE ALL STANDING AT THE TOP OF THE RAMP!
AND MR. OZ HAS A STEEL CHAIR!
WHILST JORDAN PENN WEARS BOTH TAG CHAMPIONSHIPS AROUND HIS WAIST!
JC: They’re cutting off Korvayne’s escape route!
JR: This might be bad. Parents, turn off the TVs now- or at least, cover the eyes of your children!
Korvayne, ever the quick-thinker, tries to leap over the barricades and escape into the crowd-
But Jenny Myst won’t let her!
Jenny grabs Korvayne by her hair before yanking her back towards BoB!
And Mr. Oz cracks her face with the chair!
Korvayne drops to her knees, shrieking in pain!
But her screams just make Jordan Penn smile.
Jordan grabs Korvayne before spinning her around into THE WHIP CRACK (rainmaker clothesline)!
Korvayne is folded like a basket of laundry!
And as if that were the cue-
Jenny Myst and Mr. Oz start sprinting towards the ring, where SEB and King are still recovering from their hellacious match!
As Jenny Myst and Mr. Oz slide into the ring, Jordan Penn takes one last glance at Korvayne’s crumpled body. He smirks in her direction before adjusting both the tag belts as they sit around his waist.
JC: It looks like Korvayne was just collateral damage! They’re heading towards The Exiles!
JR: “Collateral damage”? I don’t think so, Jacquinde! They wanted to send Korvayne a message: but it seems they want to send The Exiles to the grave!
Inside the ring, Jenny Myst and Mr. Oz immediately get to work on Isaiah King and his partner, Sebastian! Sebastian and Isaiah try to fight back, but they’re worn down after their grueling tag match!
Mr. Oz delivers stiff chair shots to Isaiah King as he tries to crawl out of the ring. Meanwhile, Jenny Myst has Sebastian taking a seat in the corner- and taking a beating from her boots!
The booing of the crowd is ear-shattering.
A production assistant rushes in when Jordan finally enters the ring, handing out microphones to BoB members like candy bars. Sebastian and Isaiah lay lifeless in the ring, clearly beaten into submission by Jenny and Oz.
That’s when the fun begins.
Jenny Myst: “Y’know…”
Her voice cuts through the noise clean. Smooth. Controlled.
“Every single time I walk out here… I hear the same thing.”
She gestures lazily toward the crowd with the mic.
“Boo. Cry. Whine. Complain. ‘Jenny, you’re a bitch.’ ‘Jenny, you’re too much.’ ‘Jenny, why do you ruin everything?’”
Then her smile sharpens.
“And my personal favorite… ‘Jenny, why can’t you just let people have their moment?’”
She glances down at Sebastian… then over at Isaiah.
Then back to the camera.
“Because this?”
She lightly taps her boot against Sebastian’s shoulder.
“This is the moment.”
A small chuckle escapes her, dry and humorless.
“You people don’t understand the difference between a moment… and a memory.”
She crouches now, lowering herself beside Sebastian, grabbing a handful of his hair—not violently, just enough to lift his head slightly.
“This?” she says, almost softly. “This is what people remember.”
She lets his head drop.
Stands back up.
“Not your cute little underdog victories… not your ‘aw shucks we tried our best’ bullshit…”
Her tone shifts—harder now.
“They remember who ended you.”
The crowd roars louder, but there’s an edge now. Less playful. More uncomfortable.
Jenny turns, pacing slowly across the ring, stepping over Isaiah like he’s not even there.
“And Korvayne…”
She stops.
Looks up the ramp where Korvayne tried to escape.
Her smile returns—but this one’s colder.
“Oh sweetheart… don’t think we forgot about you.”
She tilts her head again, almost mockingly sympathetic.
“You had your big night, didn’t you? Third match. Even wrestling The Exiles to a draw is a big win for someone as new as you. Big celebration. You were out here screaming at the camera like the world finally noticed you…”
A small pause.
Then she leans forward slightly.
“…and then we did.”
The crowd reacts—loud, angry—but there’s a ripple of tension underneath it.
Jenny nods slowly, like she’s confirming something to herself.
“You felt that, didn’t you?”
She gestures up the ramp.
“That moment when your little emotional support puppy got spiked into the mat like he was nothing?”
A small shrug.
“That wasn’t personal.”
Beat.
“…at first.”
Now she starts pacing again, slower.
“But then you ran.”
She stops.
Dead center of the ring.
“And that’s when it became personal.”
Her voice drops slightly.
Not louder.
Just… sharper.
“You see, we don’t chase people who stand their ground.”
She glances over at Jordan Penn, then toward the ramp again.
“We hunt the ones who run.”
Another pause.
She lifts the mic closer.
“And you ran right into us.”
A faint laugh.
Almost like she can still see it playing out.
“The look on your face when Oz cracked you with that chair…”
She exhales through her nose, shaking her head slightly.
“Priceless.”
Then—
Her tone shifts again.
Less amused.
More… deliberate.
“And now?”
She spreads her arms slightly, indicating the carnage in the ring.
“This is what happens when you cross paths with the Brotherhood of Bastards.”
She points down at Isaiah.
“He thought tonight was about redemption.”
Then Sebastian.
“He thought tonight was about proving something.”
Then, slowly, she points up the ramp again.
“And you thought tonight was your breakout.”
Her finger lowers.
Her voice drops to almost a whisper.
“It was.”
Beat.
“…just not the way you wanted.”
The crowd noise swells again, but now there’s a tension hanging in the air. A weight.
Jenny lifts her head, looking straight into the hardcam now.
No smile.
No theatrics.
Just cold certainty.
“We don’t care about your stories.”
A step forward.
“We don’t care about your momentum.”
Another step.
“We don’t care about your ‘future.’”
She stops.
Right at center.
“We decide what survives here.”
Behind her, Jordan adjusts the tag titles on his waist.
Mr. Oz taps the chair lightly against the mat.
The visual says everything.
Jenny nods once.
“And right now?”
She glances back at the bodies.
Then up the ramp.
Then back into the camera.
“You’re all just… examples.”
Jenny looks down at Sebastian, and points a deliberate finger at him.
“If you’d be so kind, Mr. Oz: show them what I mean.”
She lowers the mic as Mr. Oz clutches the chair and raises it, aiming to bring it down right atop Sebastian’s head!
But then,
SUDDENLY!
BETSY GRANGER’S THEME MUSIC HITS! SHE BURSTS ONTO THE STAGE WITH THE REVOLUTION CHAMPIONSHIP AROUND HER WAIST!
JC: “Oh my God, it’s the Impossible Traveler! The Wayward One! The Revolution Champion…..it’s BETSY GRANGER!
JR: “And she’s here to save SEB and King!”
Betsy Granger slides into the ring in a flash, taking BoB by complete surprise!
She delivers a backflip kick to Charlie Nickles that sends him spiralling out of the ring!
Then, Jordan Penn charges in with a clothesline:
But Betsy ducks it!
Betsy hits the ropes before coming back and hitting Penn with a dropkick that sends him flying between the ropes!
Jenny Myst charges in to get a grip on Granger, but Betsy’s heated!
She headbutts Jenny Myst, sending her flying into the corner turnbuckle!
JC: “Betsy Granger is taking all of BoB on by herself! She’s gone feral!
JR: “Love is a powerful thing in mixed martial arts, Jacquinde!”
But Betsy’s momentum suddenly comes to a crashing halt as Mr. Oz blindsides her with a big chairshot to the skull!
Betsy drops to the mat!
Oz gets a wicked grin, and goes to raise his chair again-
BUT SEBASTIAN CATCHES IT FROM BEHIND, RIPPING IT AWAY FROM HIS GRIP!
JC: “Sebastian’s up! Sebastian’s back up!”
And rising right behind Sebastian?
ISAIAH KING!
JR: “And so is The Princeling!”
Sebastian smacks Mr. Oz upside the head something fierce! Mr. Oz stumbles backwards as Sebastian and Isaiah help Betsy get back to her feet.
Meanwhile, outside the ring: Charlie, Jenny, and Jordan are all collecting weapons from beneath the ring!
Then, Charlie, Jenny, and Jordan all slide into the ring one-by-one, right behind a staggered Mr. Oz.
Charlie holds a baseball bat wrapped in barbed-wire.
Jenny holds a steel pipe.
And Jordan Penn holds a sledgehammer.
Then, all the members of BoB indulge in a shared grin as they slowly advance towards Isaiah and Betsy, with Sebastian standing in front with a steel chair.
JR: “We have a good ol’ Mexican standoff here now!”
JC: “This isn’t a Mexican stand-off…this is a set-up! BoB has the numbers, and the weapons!”
JR: “But Betsy has the heart of a warrior, Isaiah King has a chip on his shoulder, and Sebastian has a steel chair!”
The two crews stare at each other from mere feet away.
Sebastian pounds his steel chair on the mat, begging for BoB to come get some:
But no one in BoB moves an inch…
Not until…
JC: “Wait, who the heck is that?!”
JR: “THAT’S ASHER FUCKING HAYES!”
Asher Hayes suddenly appears on the stage as his entrance music blares throughout the PA system! A cinematic amount of pyro goes off across the arena, and Asher Hayes aura farms at the top of the ramp for a moment. Everyone’s eyes are on him.
JC: “Asher Hayes is here to save the day and even the odds!”
The crowd goes wild as Asher Hayes suddenly darts down the ramp, sliding into the ring: and positioning himself directly in the middle of the two opposing forces.
BoB in front of him, and The Exiles (+1) behind him.
Asher Hayes barks at the Brotherhood, clearly putting himself in between them and their would-be victims!
JR: “Asher Hayes is a madman, putting himself in the middle of this gang war! He’s got guts, I’ll give him that: but challenging The Ex-Corporation ain’t a smart idea!”
JC: “Asher doesn’t have a choice, he won’t let this injustice carry on! Someone needs to stand up to them and help The Exiles survive this!”
Asher Hayes runs his hands through his hair, getting ready for a fight….
When, suddenly….
HE TURNS AROUND AND SPEARS SEBASTIAN EVERETT-BRYCE!
The crowd is shocked as BoB moves in on Isaiah and Betsy, overwhelming them with brute force!
Isaiah and Betsy fight back, but the odds are too great! Baseball bats and steel pipes slam against their bodies!
JC: “NO! NO! WHY…..WHY ASHER HAYES, WHY?!?!”
JR: “People used to ask me, “who the fuck is Asher Hayes”- but not, everyone’s got to be wondering: “WHY THE FUCK IS ASHER HAYES HELPING B.O.B.?!”
JC: “This is not the time, Joe! There’s an assault happening in that ring!”
Sure enough, the Brotherhood of Bastards was beginning to take great liberties with Betsy, Isaiah, and Seb!
Blood and tears flowed in the ring, until-
JR: Oh. Shit.
JC: Business is about to pick up here, folks!
FOR THE SECOND TIME TONIGHT, THE HOUSE OF HARDCORE MAKES THEIR WAY ONTO THE STAGE AS THE TYSON EVENTS CENTER IS ON FIRE!
SCOOPS MCGEE!
DICKIE WATSON!
GAME GIRL!
AND AMBER MANSLEY!
JC: Scoops was talking before how he was itching for a fight for his hometown crowd, and he’s about to get his wish!
JR: Dickie’s gotta be careful though, he’s got a match with Gator right after this!
JC: I don’t think they care right about now!
A staredown ensues with both sides at the top of the ramp! Charlie Nickles is frothing at the mouth and tells Scoops to come bring it! Asher Hayes is beckoning them forward! Jenny and Amber lock eyes with each other, jaw-jacking from afar!
AND THE HOUSE ADVANCES TOGETHER!
THEY STORM INTO THE RING AND TAKE THE FIGHT RIGHT TO B.O.B.!
FISTS ARE FLYING EVERYWHERE!
ASHER AND DICKIE GO STRAIGHT FOR EACH OTHER LIKE BATTERING RAMS!
AMBER TAKES DOWN JENNY BEFORE THE TWO BEGIN TO ROLL AROUND ON THE MAT!
MISTER OZ TRIES TO TAKE GAME GIRL’S HEAD OFF WITH A CHAIR SHOT AS SHE MANAGES TO DUCK UNDERNEATH!
AND CHARLIE AND SCOOPS ARE THROWING BOMBS AT EACH OTHER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING!
JC: It’s chaos! It’s carnage! It’s pandemonium! These groups HATE each other, Joe!
JR: The House is strong, but they’re also outnumbered!
Jordan Penn manages to sneak his way out of the ring in the middle of the fight, quickly ducking down under the ring as he pulls out a KENDO STICK! The crowd boos as he manages to roll his way back into the ring, CRACKING Amber Mansley right on the back as she winces! Jenny Myst doesn’t hesitate as she comes back to her feet, slamming her boot right into her jaw!
And the numbers quickly begin to snowball! GG takes a kendo shot to the ribs as Mister Oz winds up with the steel chair… CRACK right to the back!
GG rolls back to the middle of the ring alongside Amber, both Scoops and Dickie now also dealing with their own handicapped situations with heavy shots beginning to add up onto the two as they’re forced back-to-back! B.O.B. is surrounding the lot of them like vultures!
JC: The Exiles and Betsy are down! Something’s gotta give right about now!
JR: They picked a fight they’re having trouble trying to make good on! They gotta-
JR: …What the Hell?
JC: We haven’t heard that music in ages! Is that…?
THE FANS ARE BUILDING IN ANTICIPATION BEFORE HE RUSHES OUT FROM THE BACK!
IT’S COREY FUCKING BLACK!
AND HE’S SPRINTING TOWARDS THE RING AT TOP SPEED!
JC: HOLY- Folks, we haven’t seen Corey Black since War Games! And he’s got one hell of a history with both SEB and Charlie both!
JR: He’s frothing at the mouth right now!
Corey rolls into the ring to immediately take Charlie down with a running V-Trigger knee as the fighting breaks out one more time!
Everyone begins to break off into their own separate fights as Asher Hayes MANAGES TO DROP SCOOPS MCGEE WITH A SPEAR!
JC: OUT OF NOWHERE!
JR: I think he just made the Universal Champ mad!
Scoops keeps Asher down as he grits his teeth, laying some heavy rights as Asher manages to keep his guard up!
Mister Oz tries to bulldoze his way through to help out Asher and Charlie before Dickie manages to take him down with a crisp drop toe hold! Game Girl looks to follow up with a big stomp before she has to pivot to deal with Jenny Myst pulling on her hair!
Amber gets her getback on Jenny though with a HUGE roundhouse leading to the two pushing her out of the ring!
Charlie manages to FINALLY pry Corey Black off of him, but he’s not stopping any time soon! Black nails Charlie in the sternum as he’s forced back, only to bump into Asher being shoved behind him by Scoops!
Jordan Penn sneaks up behind Scoops to nail him with the kendo stick again…
ONLY TO EAT AN EMPIRE KICK AS SEB COMES BACK TO HIS FEET!
JC: SEBASTIAN JUST DAMN NEAR TOOK PENN’S HEAD OFF!
JR: How’s that for a family feud?!
Charlie and Asher realize they’re the ones outnumbered now as the Exiles come back onto their feet!
Scoops lunges for Charlie as he grabs him by the wrist!
CATTLE PROD-!
CHARLIE DUCKS UNDERNEATH AS ASHER HELPS HIM ROLL OUT OF THE RING! THE CROWD BOOS AS B.O.B. BEAT A HASTY RETREAT UP THE RAMP!
And the House turns their attention to the Exiles who are staring bloody murder at them! Corey and SEB waste no time getting in each other’s faces in the middle of the ring, jaw-jacking at each other! Scoops puts himself between the two, yapping at SEB now as Betsy comes to her boyfriend’s defense!
Soon, all of both groups are there to talk trash at each other as tensions run high between all eight men and women in the ring!
JC: Folks… business might be about to pick up soon. It’s been a while since I’ve seen some group warfare quite like this.
JR: You can just feel the electricity in the air right now, Jack. When Scoops and SEB meet at Leap of Faith, you already know the sparks are gonna fly between them!
Both HoH and the Exiles turn their attention to B.O.B. going behind the curtain as Warfare fades to commercial.
The lights die without warning. Not a fade, but a full blackout that sucks the air out of the arena like the calm before a fire. Then, a strobing light, lime green, flares beneath the metal of the floor. Another, quicker and sharper. A third, holding longer now. Long enough for the crowd to catch a glimpse of the static forming on the screen overhead.
The distorted bass of “DEATHLIST” by Code: Pandorum and GHØSTKID blares across the arena’s speaker system low, grinding and industrial. It doesn't start like music, but more like a warning. Like the hum of something broken beneath concrete.The speakers rattle, and with them the crowd begins to stir as the opening continues to play, rhythmic and angry. Noise from the crowd rolls through like a cold draft in a sealed room, a few cheers, a few chants. But mostly unease.
"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?
Can I trust you without failing you?
Gonna tell you what the secret is...
You're number one on my DEATHLIST."
Whispered, the lyric doesn't rise above the crowd but cuts under it, precise and personal. The music drops out completely, not a fade, and not a glitch, just the same as the lights as they die out entirely. But then, detonation as the bass slams back in without warning, twisted and violent, louder than before. Strobe lights erupt in a manic wash of toxic green, casting sharp, flickering shadows across the sate. It's disorienting, like a spotlight wielded as a weapon. Motionless in that moment, Dickie Watson stands framed in light. No grand pose, no war cry, hair falling in his face and shoulders loose like man who doesn't need to prove he belongs here -- he already knows he does.
He holds this, eyes floating over everyone, and then moves a beat later. Not with urgency, not with showmanship. Just steps forward like the rest of the world is moving slower than him. He doesn't look to the sides, doesn't soak it in. He's not here for the moment, he's here for the thrill. Every movement is precise, like a blade being unsheathed. Quiet, measured. He walks down the ramp towards the ring, eyes still glancing off to the side, turning his head slightly to acknowledge fans and enemies alike. At the barricade, he reaches out and slaps a few hands not necessarily out of respect, but more of obligation. These are the people who kept him alive for so long, and what he does this for.
He rounds the corner to right, bypasses the steps, and jumps, both feet hitting the apron in one clean lift. Without grabbing the ropes, without pause, he slings himself over the top and lands near the dead center of the ring, bent knees taking the brunt of his leap. He circles the ring once, loose-limbed, cracking his neck slightly, and stops. Near the far corner, he crouches with his elbows on his knees, fingers dangling inbetween as his music fades.
JR: Dickie Watson, high energy, one of the best wrestlers not just in XWF but in the business. Former X-Treme Champion, former Universal Champion, Sole Survivor at War Games. Easily a future attendee in the Hall of Legends and one of the most beloved figures here.
JC: Not many out there can claim to put Dickie Watson down, will his competition tonight be one of those few?
The opening riff of Gardenia plays and as the drums kick in Gator walks out onto the stage and examines the crowd, with a nose flick he beats his chest three times before walking down the ramp with his head held high and climbs the steps stopping at the turnbuckles to look around at the crowd once more before wiping his feet on the apron and entering the ring and relaxing in his corner.
JR: Fans showing their appreciation as the former Undefeated TV Champion, former Universal Champion, former Tag Team Champion and Living Legend makes his way to the ring looking like he’s on business.
JC: Got to think about Gator’s rust here, he was a contender 10 years ago and besides making sparse appearances here and there he hasn’t been in active competition in a long time and his welcome home match is against one of the toughest fighters we have.
Dickie Watson
- vs -
Gator Last Man Standing
Dickie stretches against the ropes leaning down as he glares at Gator who is relaxed in his corner staring a hole back into Dickie.
JC: Gator looks in pretty decent shape, considering.
JR: He looks like he’s packed on a few pounds, most likely going for more constitution over speed.
JC: Nice way of putting it.
DING! DING! DING!
The two leave their corners and begin circling each other, Dickie feigning a dive in as he slides a knee across the mat and Gator keeps his guard up.
As the fans begin to pick up, chanting for each man in turn the pair stop briefly and absorb the atmosphere. Gator’s eyes are locked on Dickie as Watson looks around momentarily before he snaps his head to Gator and the two push into a collar and elbow tie-up.
Gator quickly gains the advantage with a stiff palm up into Dickie’s jaw and wrenches his head down into a chinlock and bowls him over with a Snapmare! As Gator goes to for the follow-up kick, Dickie dashes to his side and pulls Gator’s heel, causing him to land flat on his back.
Dickie hits the ropes and leaps into a senton but Gator gets his knees up which cracks Watson’s back and he bounces off in pain.
Gator scrambles to his feet and rushes Dickie, falling on top of him into a full mount where he begins delivering stiff right hooks into Watson’s face!
After two solid hits, Dickie has the wherewithal to block the third and he sticks a boot in Gator’s gut to push him off but Gator grabs Dickie’s wrist and twists as he’s pushed off, pulling Dickie with him and turning his body into a Kimura!
But Watson’s too fresh and manages to fight his way out and slip away from the hold.
The pair get to their feet and Gator goes for a grapple but Dickie fights back, throwing up a knee and catching Gator’s jaw, causing him to stumble back and Dickie follows up with a spinning roundhouse but Gator ducks under the strike and as Dickie lands he twists back and clatters the back of Gator’s head with a Pele Kick!
Gator drops to one knee from the Pele, shaking out the cobwebs, but Dickie is already pushing forward. He grabs Gator by the head and fires a sharp elbow into the side of his skull, then another, trying to keep the veteran rocked. Gator absorbs the shots and swings a wild hook, but Dickie slips under it and snaps a low kick into Gator’s calf, forcing his leg to buckle.
Dickie hits the ropes again, building speed, and comes back with a running dropkick that sends Gator rolling across the canvas. Watson pops back to his feet, clutching his back for a moment from the earlier knees, but he doesn’t slow down. He charges Gator in the corner, leaping into a high knee—only for Gator to sidestep at the last second. Dickie crashes into the turnbuckles and stumbles backward.
Gator grabs him around the waist and hauls him up into a release German suplex that sends Dickie flipping through the air and landing hard on his stomach. Gator stays down for a moment, breathing heavily, then forces himself up and stalks Dickie, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him into a short‑arm lariat that drops Watson flat.
Dickie tries to push up, but Gator clamps onto his arm again, twisting it behind his back and driving a knee between his shoulder blades. He tries to force Dickie down into another submission attempt, but Watson rolls through, kicks his legs out, and pulls Gator face‑first into the middle turnbuckle.
Gator stumbles back holding his nose, and Dickie uses the ropes to spring up into a quick enzuigiri that clips the side of Gator’s head. The shot drops him to one knee again. Dickie steps in, hooks Gator’s head, and snaps him down with a tight DDT that plants him in the center of the ring.
Both men lie there for a moment, breathing hard, before Dickie crawls to the corner and pulls himself upright. Gator rolls to his stomach, pushing up slowly, stubbornly refusing to stay down. Dickie sees him rising and charges, going for a running knee—but Gator lunges forward and tackles him around the waist, driving him into the mat and hammering short forearms into Dickie’s ribs.
Dickie twists his hips and manages to shove Gator off, both men scrambling to their feet again, sweat flying as they square up once more, battered but still ready to swing.
Gator steadies himself after the scramble, jaw tight, eyes locked on Dickie.
Watson circles out to the side, shaking the feeling back into his arm, but he doesn’t get long. Gator steps in fast and swings a heavy forearm that clips Dickie across the cheek and forces him back a step. Dickie fires back with a sharp kick to the thigh, then another, trying to chop Gator down before he can build momentum.
Gator bodies the kicks, grabbing Dickie around the waist. Dickie tries to twist free, but Gator muscles him up and drives him backward into the corner. Dickie’s spine hits the turnbuckles and Gator unloads with short, stiff body shots, each one forcing the air out of Watson’s lungs. Dickie slumps, but he still manages to throw a quick elbow that catches Gator on the eyebrow and forces him to back off.
Dickie pushes out of the corner and swings a fast right hand, but Gator ducks under it and hooks him from behind. He tries for another German suplex, but Dickie flips through and lands on his feet, stumbling slightly from the impact. He rushes Gator from behind, but Gator spins and catches him with a sudden spinning backfist that stops Dickie cold.
Watson stumbles back and drops to a knee, dazed. Gator sucks air, then grabs Dickie by the wrist and yanks him forward into a short‑arm knee strike to the ribs. Dickie folds over, gasping, and Gator doesn’t hesitate—he pulls Dickie in again and this time hoists him straight up, turning and driving him down with a spinebuster that shakes the ring.
Gator stays on his knees after the impact, hunched over, one hand pressed to his chest as he tries to steady his breathing. He forces himself upright, staggering slightly, sweat dripping from him. Dickie rolls onto his side, clutching his back, struggling to get air.
Gator grabs the ropes, pulling himself up fully, chest rising and falling in heavy bursts. He looks down at Dickie, knowing he needs to press the advantage, but his legs feel heavier with every step. Still, he pushes forward, dragging Dickie up by the head.
But Dickie throws a kick up and nails Gator’s head, throwing him back before Dickie kips up and sprints into Gator with a dropkick into Gator’s sternum!
Gator crashes into the and the wind leaves his lungs as Dickie rushes in but Gator dodges as Watson leaps but catches himself, landing on the middle rope and clutching the ropes.
Dickie goes to springboard off but Gator runs in and leaps-
JC: VERY APE!
Gators sends his elbow into Dickie’s temple and he slumps forward briefly before crashing down onto the mat.
JR: Weird that a guy named Gator has a move named Very Ape.
JC: Elbow to the temple, it’s very ape behavior, Joe.
Gator hangs an arm over the ropes as he breathes heavily while the ref comes in to count Dickie.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Dickie’s eyes blink rapidly as his hand hovers over the bottom rope.
FOUR!
FIVE!
Gator goes to the opposite corner and sits on the middle turnbuckle, lifting his mask to expose his mouth as he sucks in air.
SIX!
SEVEN!
Dickie grabs the middle rope.
EIGHT!
And pulls himself up!
Dickie steadies himself on the ropes, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on Gator as the veteran drags himself off the turnbuckle. Gator wipes his mouth, drops the mask back into place, and steps forward—slow, heavy, but stubborn. Dickie meets him head‑on, firing a sharp kick into Gator’s thigh, then another, then a third that forces Gator to shift his stance.
Dickie snaps into motion, grabbing Gator’s wrist and yanking him forward into a wheelbarrow position—then flips up and over, snapping Gator down with a wheelbarrow armdrag that sends the bigger man tumbling across the mat. Gator rolls through, but Dickie is already airborne, springboarding off the middle rope into a corkscrew forearm that slams into Gator’s jaw and drops him flat.
Gator pushes up, dazed, but Dickie doesn’t give him a second. He sprints in, leaps, and drills Gator with a running knee to the side of the head. Gator collapses to his hands and knees, breathing hard, sweat dripping off his chin. Dickie hits the ropes again, building speed for another strike—
—but Gator lunges forward out of pure desperation and grabs Dickie’s ankle mid‑stride.
Dickie’s momentum jerks him off balance, and Gator twists hard, wrenching the leg sideways. Dickie crashes to the mat clutching his knee, teeth clenched as pain shoots up his thigh. Gator doesn’t let go—he twists again, harder, forcing Dickie to kick wildly to break free. Dickie scrambles backward, dragging his leg away, but the damage is done. He tries to stand and his knee buckles for a moment before he catches himself on the ropes.
Gator crawls toward him, letting out a ragged cough and forces himself upright, he looks around at the crowd for a moment as the fans begin to boo him and are fully behind Dickie. Watson limps forward, refusing to give ground, and swings a sharp elbow that cracks against Gator’s jaw. Gator stumbles, and Dickie follows with a stiff forearm, then another, then a spinning back kick that lands flush despite the bad leg.
Gator reels, and Dickie forces himself into motion, ignoring the pain. He grabs Gator by the head, runs up the turnbuckles, and flips backward—nailing a sudden, clean Spanish Fly that plants Gator in the center of the ring.
Both men hit hard, but Dickie rolls through, clutching his knee, forcing himself upright on one leg as the referee begins the count.
ONE!
TWO!
Gator’s fingers twitch.
THREE!
FOUR!
He rolls to his side, gasping.
FIVE!
SIX!
Gator pushes up to one knee, shaking his head.
SEVEN!
He forces himself upright, swaying, barely standing.
EIGHT!
Dickie limps toward him, jaw tight, ready to strike again despite the pain shooting through his leg.
Dickie pushes fully upright, shaking out the bad leg, and Gator forces himself off the ropes, both men meeting in the center of the ring.. Dickie fires first - a sharp elbow to the jaw. Gator answers with a forearm. Dickie hits back. Gator hits harder. The crowd rises as the two stand nose‑to‑nose, trading stiff shots, each strike echoing through the arena.
Dickie snaps a knee up, catching Gator in the ribs. Gator doubles over, but he still swings a hook that clips Dickie’s temple. Dickie stumbles, then lunges forward with a palm strike that rocks Gator back a step. Gator answers with a short headbutt that sends Dickie reeling. Both men sway, breathing hard, sweat dripping, refusing to fall.
Dickie breaks the rhythm first. He spins, catching Gator with a back kick to the gut, then grabs Gator’s wrist and yanks him forward into a sharp European uppercut. Gator staggers. Dickie hits the ropes, limping but fast, and rebounds with a flying forearm that finally drops Gator to a knee.
Dickie doesn’t stop. He grabs Gator by the head, runs up the turnbuckles, and flips backward-
JR: MILLENIAL FALLOUT!!
But he drops the bridge, his leg buckling underneath him. He rolls through, clutching his knee, but forces himself up again.
Gator rises slowly, shaking out the cobwebs. Dickie sees him upright and charges-
JC: RISE TO GLORY!!!
Gator eats a curb stomp and falls flat.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Dickie favors his leg as the fans chant his name.
FOUR!
FIVE!
Gator shakily pushes himself up, dazed.
SIX!
SEVEN!
He stands, barely, leaning on the ropes before drunkenly stumbling forward egging Dickie on.
Dickie wipes sweat from his brow, limps back a few steps, then bursts forward. He leaps onto the middle rope, springboarding into a moonsault—
—but Gator surges forward and catches him mid‑air, arms locking around Dickie’s torso as the crowd explodes.
Gator twists Dickie’s arms into position. The fans stand to their feet, sensing the end as Gator lifts—
JR: THREES AND SEVENS!!!!
Gator goes for the cross arm piledriver!
But Dickie reacts in a flash!!!
JC: COUNTERED!!!!
He wraps his legs around Gator’s head, and whips backward, twisting his entire body. Gator’s grip breaks as Dickie snaps him down with a sudden, brutal poison Frankensteiner, spiking Gator onto the mat.
Gator flips over and lands flat on his back, motionless for a moment as the arena erupts.
Dickie lies on the mat beside him, chest heaving, the referee already starting the count as both men struggle to move.
ONE!
TWO!
Dickie crawls to the ropes.
THREE!
FOUR!
Gator pulls his torso upward slowly with great effort, wheezing as he does.
FIVE!
SIX!
Dickie’s foot slips from under him as he gets a hand on the middle rope.
SEVEN!
EIGHT!
DICKIE WATSON IS UP!
NINE!
AND GATOR FOLLOWS!
The crowd is on their feet, roaring as both men breathe deeply, covered in sweat as they glare at one another.
The chants grow to a crescendo, as the momentum builds.
And both men sprint forward!
GATOR THROWS AN ELBOW AIMING FOR DICKIE’S HEAD!
BUT IT MISSES AS DICKIE JUMPS INTO THE AIR WITH A ROAR OF PAIN AND ADRENALINE!
JC & JR: CALAMITY INSURANCE!!!!!!!
Dickie stomps down on Gator’s chest and drives him down into the mat!
Gator’s body raises slowly, the breath leaving his lungs!
Dickie’s foot crumples awfully into Gator’s torso as he screams in agony and rolls off cradling his leg.
The ref counts again!
ONE!
JC: What a match! Listen to these fans!
TWO!
The crowd go fucking berzerk!
THREE!
Dickie rolls onto his front, biting down the pain.
FOUR!
Gator lays motionless, his chest heaving.
FIVE!
JR: Both men gave it their all, they fought like the Uni was on the line!
SIX!
Gator fingers tremor.
SEVEN!
Dickie grabs the bottom rope.
EIGHT!
Gator’s arm slowly bats at the air!
NINE!
As Dickie pulls himself up to his feet! Using the ropes as a crutch!
TEN!
And Gator’s hand falls back down!
WINNER - DICKIE WATSON!
JC: Ladies and gentlemen, this next contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen-minute time limit… and it is for the XWF TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP!
The house lights die. Instantly. The arena plunges into a total, suffocating B L A C K.
Silence hangs in the dead air—a held breath—before the world DETONATES.
SONG: "BLACK RAINBOW" by SPIRIT BOX
♫ YOUR HEART ♫
♫ IS A HOLE ♫
Violent STROBES shatter the dark—a disorienting, epileptic stutter. Words flash on the video screen in rapid, subliminal bursts.
♫ I CAN SEE FOR MILES AND MILES! ♫
♫ BEYOND THE BLACK RAINBOW! ♫
Color-tinted haze bleeds out across the stage floor. The camera sweeps the crowd, catching the frenetic energy. The arena plunges to black again. The music builds, grinding upward.
♫ EX-IT! ♫
CRIMSON SPOTS bleed onto the stage. Through the thick haze, a silhouette stands motionless. Head down. Shoulders rigid.
The lens pushes in aggressively. She lifts her head.
YELENA GORGO. She wears a nightmare grin—arrogant, cruel, and sexy. Intricate blonde braids pull tight against her scalp, gleaming under the red light, woven with crimson thread that looks like fresh sutures.
JC: Yelena Gorgo! The Nightmare! The Final Boss! The Neck Collector!
JR: Gorgo’s got a ton of nicknames and they’ve earned every one of them! The match they won at March Madness to become Number One Contender? It was less like an athletic competition and more like watching raw meat getting fed through a grinder!
JC: Solomon Kline fought with all he had to score the upset, but Yelena Gorgo was just too dominant. Gorgo won this opportunity, and they were all too eager to cash in their shot… but can they claim the belt?
♫ INSIDE THE MIDNIGHT YOU'VE BEEN SLITH-ER-ING ♫
♫ YOU FORM THE COLUMN'S … DE-FIC-IEN-CY ♫
Yelena breaks her stance. She doesn't walk; she PROWLS. A confident, hip-swaying swagger that radiates pure, unadulterated narcissism. She locks eyes with the camera lens, acknowledging her own dominance.
♫ I LATCH ON TO YOU … WE … RE-PRESS-UR-IZE ♫
♫ IN-FRA-RED … PAR-A-DISE ♫
The bass drops out. A suspended moment of tension. Yelena stops dead. She stares at nothing, eyes wide, that grin horrifyingly fixed.
The beat DROPS.
♫ UPWARDS! FEEL THE PRE-SSURE! ♫
♫ ABSCESS! HEART IS A HOLE! ♫
A fist slams to her chest—perfectly timed to the percussion—as she mouths the scream.
Desperate hands reach over the barricade during the approach to the ring, but they are ignored. The camera angle drops low, transforming her into a giant against the lights, her focus locked entirely on the canvas.
♫ DISSOLVE! DISPLACE! REJOICE! REPEAT! ♫
♫ NO PRESSURE HERE! ADMIT DEFEAT! ♫
Yelena hits the apron and leaps—terrifying athleticism—landing on the edge. She grabs the top rope and leans back, crouching low into a broken, spider-like pose. Her gaze sweeps the arena like a predator surveying the night's menu.
♫ DISSOLVE! DISPLACE! REJOICE! REPEAT! ♫
♫ NO PRESSURE HERE! TO MEET YOUR SOUL! ♫
She explodes to her feet in the center of the ring. Arms thrown wide. Chest heaving. She screams the lyric to the rafters:
♫ BEYOND THE BLACK RAINBOW! ♫
A scream tears from her throat, directed straight at the rafters. In one fluid motion, she spins, hooks the top rope, and leans back over it—hanging upside down—staring backward at the crowd with that frozen, beautiful, PSYCHOPATHIC grin.
…
The opening riff of The hangman's body count by Volbeat starts to play throughout the arena as the lights dim. Several red and purple laser lights envelope the stage as Matthias Syn casually walks through the curtain. As he steps onto the stage, he stops and acknowledges the crowd by stretching both arms forward while touching his balled up fists together.
JC: Matthias Syn! The Revolutionary! Syn is a man who knocks over established stars just to prove they’re frauds… at least according to him!
JR: You gotta imagine it felt uniquely good scoring the TV Title… not just because he beat an XWF Legend, the sort of corporate puppet that Syn loves to decimate… but over Centurion! Literally the winningest, old guard-iest fella in XWF lore!
JC: But he’s got a whole different challenge tonight, Joe! Gorgo isn’t someone who impresses with reputation or accolades. They impress by popping opponents’ heads like zits.
JR: Syn has a track record as champion though… The last time he had a belt around his waist, he held that belt for 252 days! Can he exceed that? If he can score the win over Gorgo… that’s gonna send a message to the rest of the locker room: No one’s taking this belt from Matthias Syn any time soon!
After several seconds he begins to nonchalantly walk down the ramp towards the ring, not allowing the fans to touch him. He slides under the bottom rope, jumps to his feet and poses on the ropes. As he drops down from the ropes he takes off his red leather shearling coat, hands it to the ring girl and sits on the middle turnbuckle awaiting his opponent.
JR: Oh man, Jacuinde… this one is fascinating. Matthias Syn is chaos wrapped in conspiracy theories and athletic ability. But Yelena Gorgo? That’s like trying to outmaneuver a tank! A tank that knows judo!
JC: Gorgo looked absolutely dominant in her number one contender’s match for the Television Title against Solomon Kline. But Syn is the champion—and he’s proven he can survive situations most wrestlers can’t escape.
JR: Survive is the key word, man. Because if Gorgo gets ahold of him… it’s gonna look like a National Geographic documentary about a lion catching a gazelle.
…
The referee raises the Television Championship belt for the crowd before handing it to the timekeeper.
Matthias Syn’s lips curl into a crooked grin as he slowly raises both hands, fingers splayed…
Gorgo smiles a wide smile back…
JC: Both these two give me the creeps…
JR: Not sure if they’re both playing mind games, or they’re both actually excited to face their opponent!
JC: Normally, I’d say anyone excited to face Matthias Syn should be committed to a mental institution… But, I’m terrified of Yelena Gorgo thinking I’d ever say anything bad about them!
With a sudden burst of cocky defiance, Syn lunges forward!
Yelena Gorgo doesn’t flinch.
Her face remains completely still, like marble.
Syn leaps into a…
Flying Leg Lariat!
But Gorgo’s eyes narrow a fraction.
Her shoulders turn just slightly.
And as Syn’s boot hurtles through the air!
She catches him mid-flight!
JC: Holy HELL! The strength of Gorgo!
JR: Hell is right! Holy s not! This strength is UN-holy!
Gorgo LAUNCHES HIM WITH A RELEASE NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!
Syn sails through the air and SLAMS into the mat like he’s been thrown by a catapult.
JC: GOOD LORD! That throw nearly launched the champion into orbit!
JR: That’s Olympic judo power, Jacuinde! She didn’t just counter that attack—she weaponized Syn’s entire body!
14:37
14:36
14:35
Gorgo goes to grab Syn by the skull and peel him off the mat…
But Syn’s hands move quickly, breaking Gorgo’s grip…
And latching onto her skull! He brings himself down! And they collide skull-to-jaw
JAWBREAKER!
…
Gorgo looks unaffected!
JC: Holy HELL! What is Gorgo even made of, Joe?!?
A smile flashes across Gorgo’s face.
Syn’s jaw tightens.
Defiance burns in his expression.
They go to grapple Syn!
But Syn slips, ducking under!
As Gorgo spins… Syn leaps!
Off Gorgo’s knee!
AND BOOTS THEM IN THE SKULLL!
STEP-UP ENZUIGIRI!
The kick CRACKS against the side of Gorgo’s head.
The crowd gasps.
JC: Syn caught her clean!
JR: That’s the agility advantage right there!
Gorgo drops onto their back!
Syn quickly stacks the challenger onto their shoulders!
ONE!
TW-Gorgo kicks out at One!
JC: Interesting strategy by Syn here, going for a quick pinfall! I’ll remind our viewers that, as the champ, Syn retains if no one wins within fifteen minutes! It’d actually serve him to create distance between himself and the challenger!
JR: I’ll remind you, Jacuinde, that no one wants to be in the ring with Yelena Gorgo any longer than they have to be!
13:51
13:50
13:49
Syn moves to grapple Gorgo by the skull…
But Gorgo is already defiantly rising up from his pin attempt…
JC: Syn barely had time to capitalize off that kick! If he doesn’t act now, he’s gonna be basically starting from square one!
Syn suddenly spins and sprints to the ropes—
As Gorgo’s face tightens with cold focus.
Syn springs off the ropes, and rushes back with a…
Running Somersault Neckbreaker!
…
But, with eerily precise hand movement…
Gorgo’s arms shoot forward.
She catches Syn again.
Another RELEASE NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!
Syn flips high overhead and CRASHES down spine-first.
JC: Another northern lights suplex! That’s TWO for Yelena Gorgo!
JR: Do you think Gorgo’s gonna hit Syn with thirty-three suplexes just to mess with him?
13:13
13:12
13:11
Gorgo peels Syn off the mat, before shoving him against the corner…
Gorgo reels back their arm for a KNIFE-EDGE CHOP!
KERACK!
WOOOOOOOOOOOO! goes the crowd!
Syn doubles over, looking agonized!
Gorgo shoves the champ back against the ropes, reeling their arm back for another ch-
HAAAAAAAWK! PTOIE! Syn manages to summon up enough spittle to catch Gorgo right in the face!
JC: …Holy shit. Matthias Syn might actually have a death wish!
JR: Syn doesn’t fear anything or anyone! …I think doing that to Yelena Gorgo is legally a suicide attempt!
…Gorgo doesn’t wipe away the spit running down their forehead… Instead, they furiously surge forward, looking to choke the life out of Syn!
…Syn manages to roll under Gorgo’s grip!
Gorgo spins around!
…Straight into a
SUPERKICK!
The strike blasts Gorgo square in the jaw!
The crowd erupts!
JC: Oh my GOD! The champ is doing it! That spit gambit threw Gorgo off enough for Syn to strike!
Gorgo’s head snaps sideways, as they rotate towards the turnbuckle…
Syn surges forward, not hesitating this time!
He runs by, grabbing Gorgo by the skull as he…
Runs up the turnbuckle pad!
ACID DROP! He drives Gorgo’s skull against the mat!
The crowd leaps to their feet!
JC: He might have it! Syn might retain after that one!
Syn hooks the leg!
ONE!
TWO!
TH-NO! Gorgo shoves Syn off so hard, he rolls twice into the ropes on the side of the ring!
JC: Gorgo clearly still has a lot of juice left in the tank!
JR: But Syn’s doing what he has to do to escape with his belt, Jacuinde! Frustrate Gorgo! Prevent them from winning until the time runs out!
12:02
12:01
12:00
As Gorgo shoves themself up to their feet… Syn wraps them in a guillotine from a closed guard!
JC: Syn trying to control the pace of this match, trying to keep Gorgo from another burst of strength!
Gorgo tries to force Syn back against the turnbuckle!
But Syn agilely backs up the turnbuckle! Going for a…
Leaping Tornado DDT—
—but Gorgo’s arms clamp around his waist mid-rotation.
She plants her feet… Scoops Syn into a waistlock…
And launches him backward with a GERMAN SUPLEX!
Syn lands high on his shoulders, bouncing violently off the mat.
JC: Syn just folded in half!
JR: That landing will compress your entire spine, man!
Syn rolls toward the ropes, clutching his neck.
Blood already trickles down from a split along his hairline.
Gorgo watches him crawl.
Their breathing steady.
Their eyes clinical.
Syn exhaustedly forces himself up to one knee…
Gorgo is without mercy
They Spin…
And DRIVES HIM DOWN WITH AN EMERALD FROSION!
Syn’s head and shoulders spike into the mat.
JC: Oh my GOD!
JR: That’s neck compression city!
Syn lies motionless for a moment.
Then instinctively tries to crawl away.
Gorgo’s eyes narrow.
Cruel intent flickers across her face.
She drags him up by the hair.
Syn’s face contorts with pain.
Gorgo’s knee suddenly chambers.
CRACK.
A brutal Running Knee Strike slams into Syn’s skull.
Blood sprays across the canvas.
The champion collapses again.
JC: That knee split him open!
JR: Dude that’s fight-ending power right there!
Syn weakly lifts his head, blood streaming down his face.
Defiance still burns in his eyes.
He lunges desperately—
Latching his arms around Gorgo’s hips, trying to take the challenger off their feet!
…But Gorgo’s too strong!
Gorgo’s expression flashes with annoyance.
She snatches him off his feet!
Another NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!
This time she doesn’t release.
She bridges.
ONE—
But she lifts him again instead.
Her face now fully enjoying the punishment.
She kicks her legs over.
FLOAT OVER NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!
Syn crashes again.
The crowd roars.
Gorgo floats over again—
A THIRD NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!
This time she holds the bridge.
ONE!
TWO!
Syn barely jerks a shoulder up.
JC: The champion somehow survives!
JR: That’s pure survival instinct!
JC: Survival instinct implies Syn’s kicking out to survive, Joe! I think this is the opposite! Syn’s such a tough bastard, he’d rather be dead than lose!
JR: Unfortunately, he’s against the one opponent that might be willing to kill if it means victory!
10:14
10:!3
10:12
Syn lies gasping.
Blood pooling beneath his face.
Gorgo slowly stands.
Her expression shifts to something theatrical.
Almost regal.
She grabs Syn’s arm.
Syn’s eyes widen with dread.
Gorgo drops suddenly—
Rolling through into the WAKI-GATAME ARMBAR!
She traps the arm.
Her hips begin to rise.
Syn screams.
Gorgo arches higher—
Her body forming a terrifying bridge.
BLACK RAINBOW.
The elbow joint bends violently.
Syn’s face contorts in agony.
His free hand slams the mat.
TAP! TAP! TAP!
The referee calls for the bell.
Winner and NEW XWF Television Champion: Yelena Gorgo
The bell rings.
Gorgo releases the hold slowly.
Gorgo rises to their feet, breathing calmly.
The referee hands them the Television Championship.
They raise it high overhead.
JC: We have a new champion! Yelena Gorgo just dismantled Matthias Syn!
JR: That wasn’t just a win, Jacuinde… that was a statement. Yelena Gorgo took a champion known for chaos and agility… and broke him down piece by piece.
JC: Syn showed incredible resilience… but tonight, Yelena Gorgo proved they may be unstoppable.
JR: Gorgo is the XWF Television champion, which means they defend their belt every Warfare… but who the Hell is gonna be stupid enough to even WANT to enter the ring with Gorgo?!?
After that gruelling contest, Matthias Syn sits in the ring on his knees, catching his breath. Gorgo has headed up the ramp and through the curtain to the back.
JR: What a hellacious match that was! Congratulations to the Television Champion! We'll see you all.. wait what's this?
JC: WHOA WHAT?!
The lights in the arena have begin shutting down, section by section, with electrical failing sounds accompanying them. The fans are confused, they all watch as one by one, everything seems to go dark.
JC: What in the hell could this be?!
Matthias Syn stands up, walking as best he can over to the ropes to lean on them and get a better look. Soon enough, it is completely dark. And silent, beyond the fans murmured confusion.
JR: I don't like this, this seems very odd. Are we still on? Is there a storm outside or something? I know this is Iowa but it can't be bad enough out there to shut down a whole arena?
Without warning two spotlights hit the entrance. Everyone's attention turns but it isn't a person that emerges, no, the screen illuminates and displays some words;
"BUILD A TOWER FROM MY PAIN
WEAR MY SILENCE AS YOUR CROWN"
The crowd looks on as does Matthias, as each word comes into focus. Syn mouths each word and as he finishes, he seemingly blows off whatever's happening with a dismissive hand wave, turning back toward the middle of the ring where he's stopped cold. The fans in attendance all at once cheer and shriek as the visage standing before them.
JC: WHAT ON EARTH
A man stands there, draped in dark cloths around his head and shoulders, coming together near the waist as a robe of sorts. That's not the unsettling part.. upon this man's face seems to be.. another man's face. As if a face was cut off and is now being worn as a mask. Matthias Syn begins screaming at the shape, generating no movement nor anything from the shrouded individual beyond their cold steel gray eyes peering out from behind the visceral mask.
Syn goes to step forward and stops when he sees movement - out of the sleeve, something reflects what little light the spotlights on the stage is giving. But it continues, a long metal blade has slid out of the sleeve. Syn goes to turn and leave but in a flash the shape has him by the shoulder, the blade is dropped but both hands are now free to grasp Matthias Syn by the head from behind in a sleeper and arch back dropping Syn on the top of his head with a sleeper suplex! The crowd comes alive!
JR: That was brutal! Who the hell is this?!
The cloth robe drapings come off revealing a tattooed torso and black trunks, it's still just a bit too dark to make out but this person is on Syn in an instant, the suplex sent him over backward and up onto his knees but his entire existence is wiped out with a swinging back elbow to the face!
JC: Could it be…
The shape stands, electricity running through their veins, shoulders, arms and chest all rising and falling with emotional deep breaths, occasional grunts from behind the mask. They stand over Matthias Syn, who is looking up at the ceiling - they bend forward, eye to eye with the man on the ground, staring deep into his soul and put their fingers under the chin of the mask. Slowly, methodically, the face is peeled off and their identity is revealed.
JR: THAT'S..
Before the sentence can even be finished, they arch back and drop a devastating dropping forearm to turn Syn's lights out.
JR: ..COREY BLACK?!
Everyone in the Tyson Center has come unglued as the King of the Wrestlers takes a couple of steps toward the machete on the mat. He grabs it, looking at the light glint off the edge of the blade. As he's taken his time to grab this, he turns his attention to Syn and again, as fast as can be, is down on one knee with Matthias sitting up, Corey has him in a seated abdominal stretch and he rains down an elbow to the head!
JC: Oof, those hammer and anvil elbows have put many men down, I don't know if Syn is even conscious at this point.
Another elbow, and another - but then Corey stops, looks out into the crowd and like an absolute maniac slowly begins running the length of the machete across Matthias Syn's head! The look in Corey's eyes is that of a crazed lunatic, blood begins leaking from the wound he has caused, Syn is now come to from the pain being delivered and begins flailing to try to get free but Corey has him locked down with his free arm and legs. Corey reaches into his boot and pulls out A HUGE BUNDLE OF WOODEN SKEWERS.
JR: NO NO HE WOULDN'T
COREY BLACK SLAMS THE SKEWERS INTO MATTHIAS SYN'S HEAD AND BEGINS HAMMERING THEM DEEPER IN WITH ELBOW SHOTS! The crowd is wincing, some can't even look on at the violence being produced! Syn is screeching, but Corey quickly shuts it down! He spins out, scoops Matthias up onto his shoulders, runs forward and executes a devastating Burning Hammer sending broken wooden skewers all around the corner of the ring!
JR: Ugh brutal! Maybe someone should stop this..
Syn is out of it, he is drug under the bottom rope and to the apron, peeled off the mat and leaned backward against the ropes. Corey grabs his jaw and points his face toward the screen once again. The words drift and change..
"I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN
I DID NOT BELONG HERE
BUT YOU
DO NOT BELONG
ANYWHERE"
Syn's eyes grow wide as Corey picks him up once again and this time leaps off in a stunning display, dropping Syn down on his head with a Burning Hammer off the apron.
JC: MAN I don't know what to even say, goodnight folks.
Corey sits on the floor, looking down at his foe who is not long for this world and without even a word, slips the face mask back on - this time it is clear it is how own face - as the show fades to black.
THANKS TO
OUR MATCH WRITERS
Liam Desmond
'Big' Dick Lichter
Atticus Gold
Peter Principle
OUR SEGMENT WRITERS
Scoops McGee
Kieran King
Charlie Nickles
Corey Black
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