XWF FanBase: The IWC (gets varying reactions in the arenas, but will be worshiped like a god and defended until the end by internet fans; literally has thousands of online dorks logging on to complain anytime they lose a match or don't get pushed right)
We open with a shot of Chris Cuomo seated in front of a news desk. He's looking rather dapper, dressed for the occasion as he leads us into tonight's main story.
Chris: Good evening, America. I’m Chris Cuomo, and you’re watching Newsmax—where we bring you hard-hitting journalism, honest takes, and the occasional exploding party city. and NO, I will NOT be taking questions about CNN unless it’s “how’d you escape?”
Tonight, we begin with a developing story in the world of sports, politics, and whatever the hell professional wrestling has become.
Three years ago, Coreytopia was a pet project of radical dreamers. A pseudo-utopia for labor rights activists, left-wing podcasters, and recreational anarchists—basically, a Coachella for people who call their landlord "comrade."
It was a place filled with speeches about wage theft, pamphlets nobody read, and more tote bags than a Whole Foods checkout line.
And then… it exploded.
Literally.
One of the greatest XWF wrestlers of all time, they call him Thunder Knuckles— he's known for his fisting, his flair, and his complete disregard for commercial zoning laws— well, he flattened the compound and killed dozens of orphans in what can only be described as “a felony with a fanbase.”
But tonight, against all odds—and against all building codes—Coreytopia has returned.
Only this time, it’s not a commune. It’s not a protest. It’s not a drum circle full of sociology majors and social justice warriors.
Now, it’s a party!
Thanks to a suspicious amount of private funding, a team of questionable engineers, and the strong jawline of Thaddeus Duke, Coreytopia has been rebuilt into what organizers are calling the “Spring Break of the Century.”
Gone are the handmade signs and vegan burrito stands. In their place? Luxury cabanas, sponsored chaos, and roughly one million young adults who think “May Day” is just short for “Margarita Day.”
And at the center of it all: Dolly Waters. The firestarter. The headliner. The woman responsible for tonight’s entertainment—and, allegedly, a slew of felonies in the south Florida area.
But I don't want to bury tonight's lead. The big story tonight: Coreytopia isn’t a protest anymore. It’s a spectacle for the masses it once sought to liberate.
So pour yourself something cold, turn your phone to airplane mode, and prepare to witness what happens when America turns a leftist safe haven into a billionaire-fueled bender.
We now take you to our live coverage of May Day!"
The XWF's cameras take over as the bass drops and the pyro erupts!
We open on an aerial shot of Coreytopia, Florida. The massive ocean-side property, home to Corey Smith’s commune, and… XWF MAYDAY 3… an estimated record of around 1 million people have gathered to take in the festivities.
…and shimmering above everything on the property, a massive 40 foot tall XWF corporate-sponsorship logo in the middle of the fields.
An homage to the unthinkable sums of money that will be extracted from the sheep during this event
Happy MayDay?
Ladies and Gentlemen!
Welcome to Mayday!
I’m your host Thaddeus Duke, and I’m going to be joined here tonight by… well…?
Thad, wearing a Pro-Union t-shirt, looks next to him, where his desk partner’s seat is empty.
...who was supposed to be our Warfare General Manager, Peter Principle. But unfortunately I haven’t heard from him in a few days… so allow me to get everyone up to speed…
Mayday 1 will be remembered for Robert Main earning his shot at his longtime partner-turned-rival Chris Page, and the epic war between ALIAS and the legendary Doctor Louis D’Ville over the X-Treme Championship, in which ALIAS secured a 24/7 briefcase and the course of the XWF for the next year or two was set.
And then at Mayday 2, Ned Kaye earned the first draft pick for the 2023 War Games, and then Raion Kido and Bobby Bourbon went the distance in a two-out-of-three falls match that saw Kido retain the Universal Championship!
What’ll happen tonight when James Shark defends that same title against Yelena Gorgo? Or when Mark Flynn and Kieran King - fresh off successfully defending the King of the XWF crown - square off in their rubber match?
Suddenly an older…translucent looking gentleman… an apparition? Materializes in the seat next to Thad and - - -
Wait, who in heck are you?
GoED: I am the lower class. I am the criminal. I am the prisoner
Uhhhh…
GoED: Eugene V. Debs. Former United States Presidential Candidate for the Socialist Party… and most recently a ghost.
You dont say?
GoED: Something has called my spirit to these hollowed grounds tonight
Hm. Ok. Makes sense, because we have a mammoth show ahea–
GoED: What’s that awful sound?!
HE'S HEEEEEERRRRRREEEE! Quick, get on your knees!
Oh… no. Sorry, I don’t do that. He’d have to beat me with a baton to get me to kneel
‘He’ has a name.
King Kieran, First of His Name, steps out onto the stage just as the first verse of Faith No More’s “The Gentle Art of Making Enemies” kicks in.
Despite their feelings for him, the crowd still erupts at the first frenetic strums that signals the arrival of their king. After the hell he went through to win the Ides of March tournament, his walk is less fluid, and his eye still shows notably signs of swelling.
But atop his head…
GoED: A King they say? Where’s the crown?
It doesn’t matter! His majesty’s grace is not just tied to a shiny metal hat! He’s the greatest tournament performer in XWF history! BACK! TO! BACK! And he’s here at Mayday 3!
As The King nears the ring, his pace picks up a bit, as if his leg has warmed up some. He trots up the steps and climbs through the middle rope.
Standing in the middle of the ring, he scans the crowd. They may hate him, but they love to do so - and they are never quiet about it.
Suddenly, the majority of the lights in the makeshift stadium cut out save for one lone spotlight casting down on King Kieran.
Slowly, lowering down from the ceiling in the light’s path, is the king’s crown.
It lands upon The King’s head, and the smirk that follows is enough to inspire the most aggressive of XWF”s fans watching at home to punch their screens.
“HEAR YE! HEAR YE!”
It is entirely unclear where a herald is speaking from, but nonetheless, a herald is speaking.
PLEASE WELCOME KING KIERAN, FIRST OF HIS NAME AND LAST OF HIS “GENERATION, YA BOI, THE GREATEST TOURNAMENT PERFORMER IN XWF HISTORY, YOUR NEW STEP-DAD, AND THE REIGNING - AND FOR THE FIRST TIME EEEEEEEVVVVVVEEEEEEERRR - DEFENDING KING OF THE XWF!”
“Save your applause!”
King immediately shuts the audience down.
“Save your cheers or jeers; save your smiles or frowns; save whatever it is you think of me and keep that shit to yourself. Because it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what you think; what Aurora thinks; what Mark Flynn thinks; what anybody thinks of my behaviour, my choices, and my actions. Do you hear that? It doesn’t matter.
The only thing that matters is your King.
You thought I couldn’t do it. But I did. So your opinion was useless.
You got mad every time I got one step closer. You lashed out - physically, but I prevailed. Your anger was useless…”
He turns towards the stage and points to the backstage area.
“For two years in a row, you stepped to the plate to try to stop me. But you failed.
You were useless.
I did what I said I’d do, just like I always do!
And with my body still aching as it is, my name is enough to make Mark Flynn throw away all pretense, get the fuck over his Micheal Graves shtick, and try to get back to being the guy that ran rampant across this entire company.
Because I am THE guy. THE man. THE standard that all of you try to reach. My name is Kieran King, and I am literally the best thing to ever happen to this place.
I’ve tried to be a nice king. All through Year One, I was happy to take my crown, retreat back to my castle, and let the rest of you fight over the scraps that remained without my interference. I wanted to give you the opportunity to thrive - an opportunity that just could not - WOULD NOT - exist if I was turning up and showing out week-in week-out. There wouldn’t be enough room for any of you at the top.
But now you want me to do more? Now you want me to step up to the plate and be the light in the dark for you? Why?
Because of the Black Rainbow?
Let me be crystal fucking clear to everyone in the back; everyone in the audience; everyone watching at home; and most importantly everyone in the Black Rainbow…
I’m still here.
Meanwhile, can anybody tell me where the Left Hand is at these days?
‘Cause I’m here.
How about the Black Order?
I’m here.
Anyone remember Cheyenne Fier from Madness? That voodoo baddie lit me on fire and yet…
I’m here.
None of them are.
And sooner or later, the Black Rainbow will have faded away.
But I’ll still be here.
Your King. Then, now, and forever.
So, if you want me - as king - to do anything about them, rest assured I plan on doing the exact same thing I’ve done for 15 years… outlast them. Because I’m willing to bet that come next year, when I’m weighing up a THREEPEAT, the Black Rainbow won’t be around.
Yes they attacked me. Who didn't?
But I am an empathic king! And the way I see it, they are a symptom of the problem, not the cause.
See… there’s a bigger issue in my kingdom than the Black Rainbow. Although Yelena Gorgo is a part of this one too.
Tonight she gets a shot at James Shark’s Universal Championship - which is a fucking bizarre turn of events in its own right when YA BOI here won the tournament she lost, but okie dokie.
Now… that Universal Championship has only just found its way into Shark’s hands via Isaiah the fake King. Who in turn, only recently took it from Sebastian Everett-Bryce. And to SEB’s credit, at least he took the opportunity that I gave you all in my absence and ran with it.
But this hot potato bullshit? It's caused by a disregard that every person back there has for the entire XWF! NONE OF YOU have what it takes to take advantage of the space I am giving you to succeed - to serve as steward of the CROWN JEWEL of MY KINGDOM, the Universal Championship. The Black Rainbow is just trying to fill that space like all the rest. Mark Flynn casts aside the mask in some pitiful attempt to reclaim the spot. Aurora? Wallowing in self pity. Shark himself? A poor man’s Jayzon Williamz.
It doesn’t matter who, all that matters is that the kingdom is represented by a true champion.
If you can’t do that… if you, as a collective people in service of an undisputed king, don't start doing better… then I’ll give you exactly what you’re here to fight against.
But it won’t be you fighting the oligarchy.
It’s going to be the oligarchy fighting you.
Because as you know, I have just signed a new contract with the XWF.
But… it wasn’t for more dates. It was for particular perks.
Merit-based perks.
Dependent on going both in and out of Ides of March as the King of the XWF. BACK. TO. BACK.
Win the tournament - choose your shot.
At the Universal Championship.
And if I’m not happy with how this kingdom looks, then I’m going to punish EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU by RIPPING away the OPPORTUNITY that I have given you.
And I’ll do it, by using my contract clause to deny you all the chance of a Universal Championship match - taking it for myself - AT RELENTLESS.
Do better.”
Mic drop.
And fade to break.
"In the Face of Evil" by Magic Sword reverberates over the PA. Row after row, aisle to aisle, fans rise from their seats throughout the arena and cheer, knowing one of their workhorses is about to appear!
As the second, third, and fourth chords of the theme reverberate, three spotlights shine down, one over another: A green circle, a gold triangle over it, and a crimson line intersecting the other two. On the Tron, his monikers cycle through one after another:
TACTILIZING ONE
GAME CHANGER
LIMIT BREAKER
From there, the beat triggers the house lights to illuminate the figure of Larry Tact standing on stage. He's looking down as he hones in for the battle ahead.
After a few seconds, Tact whips his head up and trudges to one side of the stage, firing up the fans by pointing towards different sections. He goes to the other side of the stage and beats his chest with a hand before opening his arms to the reaction of the crowd. "THIS IS YOUR SPOTLIGHT!" Larry bellows as the audience hoots and hollers back. He returns to center stage and points to either side of the crowd. The lights cut out except for green, gold, and crimson spotlights highlighting the audience in attendance. Larry makes his way down to the ring, pounding fists with some fans at ringside before hanging onto the middle rope and pulling himself up onto the apron.
Facing the stands, he opens his arms up and puffs his chest out to receive the feverish energy of his supporters. Wiping his boots on the apron, Tact proceeds into the ring. He climbs a turnbuckle and again holds his arms out. “BEST GAME WINS!!!” he exclaims to another pop before descending and making his final preparations for the match.
The guitar opening of “Plowed” by Sponge begins to play over the P.A system bringing attention to the stage as the lights strobe as if in sync with the tempo of the song.
Will I wake up, some dream I made up
No, I guess it's reality
What will change us, or will we mess up
Our only chance to connect with a dream
-KA-BOOM!-
The fireworks explode off the top of the tron bringing the end to the strobes as a spotlight illuminates the figure of Tatiana Jolee standing there. Dressed in her blackout ring attire with matching boots and pads - her hair is pulled up in a bun and she has a black leather jacket with the Canadian flag on the back.
Say a prayer for me
(Say a prayer for me)
Say a prayer for me
Say a prayer for me
(Say a prayer for me)
I'm buried by the sound
Of a world of human wreckage
In a world of human wreckage
In a world of human wreckage
Where I'm lost and I'm found, and I can't touch the ground
I'm plowed into the sound
Announcer: “Making her way to the ring, from Vancouver, British Columbia… TATIANA JOOOOOLEEEE!”
To see wide open with a head that's broken
Hang a life on some tragedy
Plow me under the ground that covers
The message that is the seed
With a confident expression, she heads down the ramp, walking up the ring steps and gliding across the apron. She pauses briefly to wipe her boots on the apron out of respect for all who share this ring. TJ enters through the middle ropes giving the hard camera a smirk and a little wink while removing her jacket before using the ropes in the corner to do one last mini-stretch - gathering herself for the fight ahead.
"Luna est dominae, volkodlak malorum
Artes et perditae, lycan incarnatus
Luna est dominae, volkodlak malorum
Artes et perditae, lycan incarnatus"
A dense fog rolls out along the entrance ramp, the haunting whispered chant growing in volume along with the pulsing tempo of the music. A hulking horned beast appears from the gloom, slowly and methodically stalking towards the ring. His leather doomsday cloak is open over his massive chest, each step bringing him further into the light until "The Monster Machine" is revealed in full. The dark and Gothic chanting of “Night of the Wolf” by Nox Arcana continues, music swelling in volume as each pulse in the tempo and each measured step of the monster are in sync.
"Rota, vita, mara, vena
Mare, dracul, morte, vita
Rota, vita, mara, vena
Mare, dracul, morte, vita"
ENIGMA ascends the ring steps and subtly wipes his feet on the apron, turning towards the crowd as he removes the horned skull mask, revealing his soot-streaked face and colourless eyes. Throwing his head back, he sprays a bloody mist into the air before letting out a snarl. When his head lowers, blood drips from his chin and down his heaving chest.
All lights in the arena go dark and James Hetfield's opening vocals of Metallica's "The Memory Remains" blares suddenly over the public announce speakers. A minimal yet vocal minority of the fans in attendance shout the first lyrics aloud along with the singer:
Fortune, Fame, Mirror, Vain
Gone Insane
But the Memory Remains
The lights and the big screen both stay completely black. A single word appears on the screen:
. : A U R O R A : .
The guitar and drums come crashing in, along with the rest of the instrumental section. Soon after a mako green spotlight shines down upon the stage where Aurora herself is now standing. She’s wearing a mask that covers her face in what looks like old, pitted cast iron. Her hands and wrists are taped in all black tape and her silver-colored hair is pulled back into a ponytail. A smoke machine billows from beneath her, partially obscuring the view.
Rochelle Adams: Making her way to the ring at this time, she hails from Arizona Bay. Ladies and Gentlemen, AURORA!
Aurora walks through the smoke and down to and around the ring with purpose, moving all of the way around to the southeast ring post before pulling herself up onto the ring apron. She centers herself on the apron and stands facing the crowd. Another glowing emerald spotlight shines straight down on her as laser-lights mimic the northern lights onto the smoke that has gathered around the ceiling of the arena. She pauses for a few moments staring upward before turning and entering the ring.
Thaddeus Duke: Tonight's opening bout features three challengers all vying for the same prize: Aurora's Television Championship. Aurora is one of the fastest rising stars in the XWF, but the TV division is a different kind of beast all together. What do you think, Eugene Debs? Do you think she has what it takes to hang on to her title tonight?
Ghost Of Eugene Debs: If she works for the people, and not against them, then anything is possible! As long as she stays true to who she is and what she stands for, the powers of injustice will be unable to shake her!
Thaddeus Duke: We'll see what Enigma, Larry Tact, and Tatiana Jolee have to say about that!
The crowd assembled inside Coreytopia is waiting at the edges of their seats as the night's action finally gets underway. With one competitor starting in each corner, the opening bout for the TV title match is set off with a bang when Enigma comes charging out of his corner. The massive monsters makes a beeline for the champion, trying to perform a running splash onto Aurora before she can even leave her corner! The champion is quick enough to move out of the way just in time...but she moves right into a big boot from Larry Tact that drops her to the mat! The Tactilizing One quickly follows up with a slew of boots to the grounded champion. Enigma comes bursting out of Aurora's corner, only to join in on the kick party against the champion! Tatiana Jolee, meanwhile, is just waiting in her corner: and probably thanking her lucky stars that everyone seems to be targeting the champion!
Ghost Of Eugene Debs: Pinkertons, the whole lot of them! I've seen this story before!
Duke: Pinkertons? What are you talking about?
Ghost Of Eugene Debs: That Monstrous Fellow and the Tactilizing Gentleman! Those men are nothing more than Pinkerton thugs, I can tell. They are working together to target the champion of the people, they are working for the ruling class!
Duke: Debs, I hate it to break it to you: but everyone inside that ring is working for me tonight: even the referee!
Aurora struggles to defend herself against the two-man tango band. Enigma and Tact take turns kicking Aurora before they collectively lift her back to her feet. Then, Enigma holds Aurora's arms behind her back while Larry Tact takes a few hard shots at her ribs. After Aurora's midsection is thoroughly bruised, the pair deliver a devastating double suplex to Aurora! The force of the impact is intense, and Aurora's only retort is rolling out of the ring to prevent any further damage!
Duke: And the champion makes the smart move by getting out of there! All eyes were on her, and all hands were on her, too!
Ghost Of Eugene Debs: That was illegal collusion if I've ever seen it! I hope the Monstrous Fellow and the Tactilizing Gentleman rest poorly tonight, as they ponder their own lack of competitive ethics!
Enigma and Tact look over the top rope and consider going after Aurora, but Jolee senses her moment to strike! While the two big men are distracted, Jolee darts out of her corner and delivers a devastating double clothes-line to both men that sends them flying out of the ring after Aurora! Jolee struts around the ring as the crowd cheers.
Tact is the first one to his feet, and he looks up towards the ring with a snarl. Larry slides in underneath the ring and charges towards Jolee. The pair lock up, and it's a true contest of size meet strength as the pair grapple. Tact pushes Tatiana back with pure power, but Jolee knows how to position her body to maintain her position. Eventually, Larry gets tired of grappling and just throws Jolee back into her starting corner. The pure power of the Tactilizing One takes Jolee by surprise, and she takes a second to gather her bearings as Larry gestures for her to 'come and get some'!
Back outside the ring, Aurora and Enigma have both risen to their feet. As soon as the pair locked eyes, they immediately started squabbling! Enigma and Aurora traded blows outside the ring as Jolee charged out of her corner and right back towards Larry Tact, catching him with a dropkick that causes him to stumble back towards the ropes. Jolee immediately gets back to her feet and catches Tact with an arm drag off the rebound!
Duke: Tatiana Jolee might be the pound-for-pound best wrestler in that ring! Her skillset is unmatched. She's so dedicated to the craft of wrestling, that sometimes, I start to think she's a little autistic for it!
Ghost Of Eugene Debs: Autism? What's that?
Duke: Don't act dumb, Debs! You know as well as I do that the term autism was coined in 1911 by Swiss psychiatrist Eugene Autismer!
Ghost Of Eugene Debs: I don't know about any of that, all I know is that I was brought back from the dead to watch some XWF wrestling: and gosh jolly darn it, that woman is giving that to us tonight in that ring!
Back outside the ring, Enigma has started to get the advantage over Aurora. After the pair's exchange of blows, Aurora is now laid out against the barricade. Enigma charges into Aurora, spearing her into the barricade and collapsing her to the mat outside the ring. Then, Enigma picks Aurora up and irish whips her into the steel steps at ringside! The echo of flesh meeting steel echoes through Coreytopia as Aurora grimaces in pain.
Back inside the ring, Jolee is putting work in on Larry Tact! The arm drag that brought Tact to the mat has been transitioned into an armbar, and Larry Tact is fighting with everything he has to get out of it! After a gutwrenching half-a-minute in the hold, Larry is able to reach out with his other hand and grab the rope, forcing Jolee to release the hold. Jolee smirks as she stands back up, allowing the referee to do his job without any interference or cumbrance.
Debs: She's an honorable fighter, she's someone that Tact and Enigma could learn a thing or two from! She carries herself like a true professional!
Duke: She's just Canadian, Debs.
Back outside the ring, Enigma is setting Aurora up for a big move! After picking her up and choke tossing her across over towards the entrance ramp, Enigma wastes no time in following up on his brutal attacks. As Aurora rises to a standing position, Enigma charges in and hits her with an EQUALIZER that sends her crashing back down to the mat! Enigma flips her over and tries to pin her, but the referee doesn't come out to count the pinfall: because this isn't a falls count anywhere match!
The referee is still inside the ring, watching Tatiana Jolee put on a technical clinic as Larry Tact struggles to keep pace. Tatiana Jolee's masterclass only comes to a halt when Enigma finally figures out that he can't win outside the ring. Enigma drags Aurora back to the ring by the hair before throwing her limp body in. That's when Jolee takes a break from Tact, and decides to swoop in for a pinfall on Aurora! The referee immediately drops down to count it!
1!
2!!
Before 3, both Enigma and Tact are breaking up the pin! The pair of big men take turns bashing Jolee for trying to take advantage of the situation. Enigma and Tact take turns booting the Canadian opportunist before they pick her up and double irish whip her into the rips. Then, they hit her with a double clothesline of their own, causing her drop to the ground like a sack of potatoes! Tatiana Jolee then rolls out of the ring, the sudden burst of punishment too much for her body to bear!
As Aurora lay still on the mat, Tact and Enigma exchange knowing glances. Enigma steps towards Aurora, expecting his makeshift ally to follow....but instead, Larry has other plans! As Enigma walks towards Aurora, Larry eyes the Monster up...and then charges at him with a running high knee to the back of the skull! Enigma goes flying over the top rope from the force of the impact, leaving Larry Tact alone with the champion inside the ring!
Debs: The backstabbery! The treachery! The betrayal: this is why no one should ever trust a Pinkerton! They'll betray their own for mere coin, or in this case, gold!
Duke: Enigma should've seen this coming! This was never a tag-team match, and alliances never last long in the XWF!
Larry Tact starts taking boot to face on Aurora as Enigma and Jolee lay outside the ring, dazed and confused. Aurora, having been the victim of a devious double-man attack earlier in the match, is still reeling from the physical effects of the conspiracy against her. Aurora puts up only limited resistance as Larry Tact locks her into the Tactful Surrender, aka a tequila sunrise!
Duke: This could be it right here! If Aurora doesn't give her own Tactful Surrender to the referee, she might be walking out of Coreytopia with a few broken bones and a dislocated socket!
Debs: This isn't right! They conspired against her, they illegally colluded to keep her at a disadvantage, she never had a chance! This was never a fair fight!
Duke: Tonight hasn't been fair....but it has been TACTILIZING!
Enigma and Jolee rise to their feet as they hear Aurora's screams of pain. Enigma and Jolee share a comedic look of horror before they both slide into the ring, but they're too late! Aurora is already tapping out to Larry Tact's finishing hold! She slams the mat with her open palm, and the referee calls for the bell!
Winner by Submission AND NEEEEEEEEEEEW XWF TELEVISION CHAMPION - Larry Tact
Jolee and Enigma hang their heads with dissapointment as Larry Tact releases Aurora from the painful hold. The referee hands Larry Tact his new TV championship belt before he raises Larry's hand high into the air for the whole world to see.
Duke: Larry Tact did it! He did it! He made Aurora submit, and now, he's your new TV champion!
Debs: It was a most disgraceful display, devoid of all and any ethics!
Duke: But it was a display, none the less! And now, Larry Tact is walking out of here as YOUR new TV Champion!
Backstage we see Mark Flynn watching the live broadcast of the show on a small television set. He’s nodding his head. Good. Perfect!
He turns back to the crew standing behind him: Schism (w/ NKWB), Dolly Waters and Corey Smith.
The show is rolling right along, and Thad doesn’t seem to suspect a thing. That seance you pulled off to get Debs here is working like a charm, kid!
Dolly rolls her eyes and sighs mhm. I told you I don’t really like doing that stuff anymore. If we leave that door open too long, some weird things could start happening.
Weirder than the ghost of Eugene Debs doing commentary with Thad?
RIGHT! Flynn guffaws Whats the worst that can happen? Fuckin’ Stalin show up or somethin’?
Dolly just folds her arms We need to get rolling on this plan.
Okay, no biggie! First things first… Me and Schizz gotta take care of business out there.
Turn this spring break crowd into an all out rebellion!
Once we’ve all won our matches tonight, we’ll be remembered as heroes…THE LEGENDS OF MAYDAY!
Schism hands the NKWB to Dolly. Her face twists as she feels a little rumble from his bottom on her arm.
Really?
Don’t worry, Dolly! We’ll be right back. We’re facing the American Storm for crying out loud. You think this is gonna’ be close?
The ring sits in the middle of the commune, not as a stage, but as a pulpit—four ropes enclosing a battlefield for ideologies.
TD: Our next match is… well, it might not be a technical classic, per se. On one side, you’ve got two people that won’t stop saying the same crap. And on the other side, you’ve got two people that… well, hate the system and also won’t shut up about it.
GoED: “Intelligent discontent is the mainspring of civilization.”
TD: No kidding? I thought it was the wheel.
The lights goes out and hear a voice saying…
Wrestling has one royal family
THE CROWD UNLEASHES A MAELSTROM OF BOOS AS Kingdom hit's fireworks burst open and Razor Blade comes out wearing a American nightmare outfit and left his arms in the mid air and fist pumps in a fake air… With Latoya following him down the ramp!
TD: Now, this? I don’t love. Those pinkos are booing Blade and Hixx while they’re carrying the American flag?
GoED: “Patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel.”
TD: You ever speak English, comrade?
GoED: People dress themselves in the flag when they want to disguise their odious conduct in the stars and stripes. These two multimillionaire elitists wandering down the ramp, parading ol’ glory… You know who are real Americans? People working minimum wage, nine-to-fives that hitchhiked to be at this show cuz they couldn’t afford a gas tank AND rent this month.
…
GoED: That in plain enough English for you, Thaddeus?
Razor climbs up the steps in hops on the turnbuckle and raises both arms in the air and more fireworks burst once again and he gets inside of the ring and climbs on the top rope taunts some more and gets down and takes off his American nightmare jacket and prepares for a fight. Latoya Hixx follows up right behind him, walking to the ring with a confident air and standing near her partner…
Suddenly, the teeming masses surrounding the ring at Coreytopia all start chanting.
GoED: Yes! Yes! The chorus of progress screams within the beating heart of every man! Do you hear the people sing?
TD: Is that from Les Mis?
REVOLUTION clap, clap, clap clap clap
The crowd is in a fervor.
The fans in Coreytopia go wild at the sound of The Big Rock Candy Mountain!
Schism and Mark Flynn burst through the apron, holding signs that read, “THE SYSTEM IS BROKE” and…
…Well, Schism’s sign has so much text and red yarn on it, the camera genuinely can’t make it out.
But, regardless, the crowd is going absolutely NUTS!
GoED: I sense kindred spirits!
TD: I gotta admit, if the Revolution has a home turf, I guess it’s here.
Schizz and Flynn climb through the ropes, lifting their signs once more to a massive pop, before shoving them into their corners!
…
The two teams discuss battle plans before the bell rings… Razor and Latoya agree after some stubbornness on both sides that Latoya will open the match.
Flynn leans over to compare notes on how Latoya starting the match should affect their starter…
Before realizing Schism is already exiting their corner, seemingly fascinated by the official’s black and white stripes.
TD: So, we’re starting this match with Latoya Hixx and Schism.
GoED:There’s a schism between the moneymen and basic decency.!
TD: Hey, do you ever just… like… talk about the weather? Or the Lakers?
GoED: The rain drenches the laborer working outside while the foreman stays inside counting dollars…!
…
GoED: And I hate the Lakers.
DING DING
The Revolution
Schism and Mark Flynn
- vs - American Storm
Razor Blade and Latoya Hixx Tag-Team
After the bell rings, Schism… is still staring at the official.
The official checks his shirt, wondering if he has a stain on it.
”Amazing… Black and white… separate… But of different widths… A nigh-imperceptible .04 cm difference between the width of the white and black stripes…” Schism blinks one eye and then the other as his pupils expand in dilation. ”Absolutely sublime metaphor. Incredible artistry.”
TD: I don’t know what that dude’s on, but I want some.
Latoya Hixx’s lips peel back in a feral grin. She smiles with a cocky snarl as if she’s the bear and the man across the ring is a drunk zoo patron that just fell in her pit.
GoED: Uh… my comrade-at-arms seems someone distracted… And his opponent seems eager to exploit that distraction!
TD: ‘Barbecue chicken’ - Shaquille O’Neal
Hixx charges, roaring, head lowered like a battering ram.
Across from her, Schism remains completely inert—eyes half-lidded, neck slightly tilted…
As a ghost of a smirk touches his lips.
Hixx goes for a running boot!
…
But! At the last second, Schism pivots—minimal, efficient. Almost as if he didn’t have to move at all.
Latoya rockets past him, momentum unchecked—and flies through the ropes, landing off the apron! And into the crowd!
TD: This ring has a much thinner barrier between the action and the crowd and these fans are too excited to be a part of it!
Latoya looks around furiously as… she’s carried around on the hands of the fans!
TD: Hang Ten! Hixx is going crowd-surfing!
Hixx barks angrily at the crowd to put her down… But she ends up batting ungracefully, unable to power herself off their arms… She ends up pawing like a cat in zero gravity!
TD: So… Latoya’s out of the ring… What happens now? Count-out?
Razor watches Latoya flounder, jaw tightening. He clenches his fists. His neck muscles twitch with tension. He charges past the legal man toward Flynn with a snarl, fueled by frustration!
TD: Blade clearly not pleased with the possibility that this match might pass without him getting a swing at Flynn. Flynn got, let’s say… HONEST with what he thinks of Razor Blade. Short version: Not highly.
GoED: “I may not be able to say all I think, but Flynn certainly can!”
Flynn’s face lights up—not with fear, but with glee. His smirk is razor-sharp. He smacks Schizz’s back… and rolls into the ring, leaning into it, seemingly mockingly inviting the chaos.
Razor swings wild. Flynn ducks, flows behind him, and smoothly snapmares him over into the corner…
Flynn’s forearm grinds across Razor’s jaw in a chinlock. He whispers something we can’t hear, but his eyes gleam—taunting, condescending.
TD: Flynn is one of the best pure wrestlers in wrestling today… Possibly ever.
Razor’s brow furrows. He grits his teeth. Using brute strength, he rolls through, powering up…
He lifts himself off the mat out of the chin lock! Flynn’s eyes widen with shock and terror!
…As Blade rotates Flynn in front of himself… and SLAMS Flynn!
POWERSLAM!
The crowd erupts. Schizz’s eyes narrow and widen in fascination!
TD: Wow! I didn’t think Razor had it in him!
Flynn clutches his ribs, face contorted, smirk completely vanished as Razor circles around him, stomping wildly…
Just as Hixx finally crowd-surfs back up to the apron! She barks insults at the crowd as she clings to the ropes for dear life!
GoED: One who hates the people hates me!
TD: I mean, I hate you regardless.
Razor sprints off away from Flynn to hit the ropes…
But as he hits the ropes, Latoya smacks him on the back!
The crowd boos, displeased at the lack of cohesion between teammates.
TD: Oh, this is one of those ‘fundamentals’ crowds that actually likes tag-team wrestling? Wild.
GoED: As a wise man once said ‘Teamwork makes the dream work’.
Razor scowls furiously, but begrudgingly steps outside…
Hixx enters with wild eyes and a manic energy—as if trying to overcompensate for her earlier mistake.
TD: Flynn brought up his perception that Hixx has self-esteem issues… She’s about to pound him like a cheap drum!
Flynn shakes his head, trying to find his wherewithal…
When Hixx grabs Flynn, forcing him into a front-facelock!
Flynn desperately tries hooking his foot around Hixx’s heel to prevent the lift…
BUT HIXX POWERS HIM UP ANYWAY!
TD: Wow!
Hixx hoists him vertically in a Delayed Suplex.
…
Her face turns red with effort.
…
Delaaaaaaaaayed…
…
Flynn’s face turns red because all the blood is rushing to his head…
…
Delaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayed…
TD: Is this a bathroom break?
SUDDENLY! HIXX SLAMS FLYNN!
Flynn arches his back in agony, mouth open, eyes squeezing shut.
Hixx’s lips curl in satisfaction, as she drives an elbow into Flynn’s face, covering him!
The official drops to count… As Schizz ponders the infinite meaning of the referee’s shirt!
TD: Oh man.. Flynn’s partner is out of position… Not physically but mentally.
1!
2!
THR-NO! Flynn forces his shoulder off the mat!
His teeth grit. Flynn’s nostrils flare and his eyes search for… the winning strategy.
TD: Oooooh, I’ve faced Flynn before… when he gets a look like that on his face, he’s plotting. Scheming. He’s about to do something off-the-wall.
GoED: Fatcats and moneymen scheme. The workers? They plot.
Razor barks at his partner, demanding Latoya let him get another crack at Flynn. Latoya tags Razor with a hard slap, but says she’s not done hitting him. Razor frowns at her impatience but nods, stepping in.
TD: Looks like they’re going to try both hitting Flynn at the same time! Bold strategy, let’s see if it pays off for them!
They both grab Flynn by his arms and whip him into the ropes… They get in position for an American DeathDrop (Dudley Deathdrop!) Razor in the front, Latoya in the back!
…But Flynn hits the ropes, he handsprings off!
Up-and-over Razor…
And catching Latoya with a Pele Kick to the top of the skull that drops her to the mat!
The crowd goes absolutely insane for the forty-five-year-old’s insane aerial acrobatics!
TD: I think this crowd would give that a 10/10! What about you, Gene?
GoED: …7.5.
TD: …You’re mean, Gene.
Flynn shoves himself off the mat, trying to get back to his corner…
But Razor catches him by the boot!
TD: Surprising awareness by a man Flynn thinks is dumber than a single-celled organism…
Flynn tries to overpower Blade, dragging him into his corner…
…But Blade proves stronger! He drags Flynn back out…
TD: I never thought I’d say these words but, Razor Blade has total control of Mark Flynn in that ring.
Flynn’s eyes scramble, trying to plot the winning move…
As Blade struggles with all his might to hold Flynn back… Blade looks backwards at Hixx, who’s still shaking off Flynn’s pele kick, telling her to get her ass in ge-...
When suddenly, he goes ass over teakettle, backwards somersaulting into a seated position!
Blade scratches his head, trying to figure out what happened…
When he looks at his hands…
Holding Flynn’s boot!
TD: Flynn untied his laces!
GoED: And Razor only ended up pulling himself down by Flynn’s bootstraps! That’s a 10/10 maneuver!
Blade tosses Flynn’s boot away as a single-booted, sweat-soaked Flynn dives back to his corner!
…Schism looks down at his own smacked hand… Eyes dilating.
TD: Flynn tags Schizz in… Though, I don’t know if I’d call it a hot tag, as Schism is slow to respond…
Schism enters—expression unreadable.
Razor charges toward the immobile Schi-
WHAM! Mid-sprint, Razor gets taken off his feet with a running knee!
TD: …Running knee? How can a guy who I’ve never seen move hit a running knee! Let’s check the instant replay…
Quote:Razor charges toward the immobile Schism…
When with an imperceptibly fast reaction, Schism lifts his knee and propels it forward!
Dropping Razor straight onto his back!
GoED: This bold future of instantaneous review must prevent many injustices…
TD: We mostly use it to check whether a guy’s feet were outside or inside of an endzone.
Razor, still trying to figure out what just happened, shoves out the mat…
Straight into an elbow to the temple!
Razor drops to a knee, blinking, eyes glassy.
Schism, with incredible speed, catches Razor by the back, looking for a guillotine ch-
Wham! Schism gets taken from the side! SPEAR BY LATOYA HIXX!
TD: Huge move by Latoya Hixx! The American Storm surges straight toward the good ship Revolution!
Hixx rises up off the mat, beating her chest, with pure satisfaction!
Unfortunately, her electric energy after her successful move distracts her from Flynn leaping to the top rope…
MISSILE DROPKICK STRAIGHT TO HIXX’S FACE! Hixx rolls out through the ropes…
Back into the crowd!
And once again is stuck on a crowd-surfing journey!
TD: Don’t fight it, you’ll drown. Just let the tide take you back in.
The crowd pumps their fists, screaming, waving signs! Flynn scans the crowd… and sees a guy in the front row with a megaphone!
Flynn reaches out and snatches it, lifting it to his face!
“UNITED WE STAND!”
REVOLUTION! The crowd roars back!
Razor, dazed, uses the ropes to pull himself up—his face now contorted in defiance. He wipes the blood from his mouth. He climbs the ropes himself.
Razor pushes himself off the mat at the same time as Schizz…
Razor moves first, snatching Schizz into a guillotine choke, looking for a Diamond Blade!
He spins!
…But Schizz reverses! They both spin, as now Schizz has Razor’s back! Guillotine Ch-
No! Razor goes with a desperation spinning backfist!
…But Schizz ducks!
AND STRIKE!
TD: KNOCKOUT!
The haymaker lands flush. Razor’s body whips in the air and drops to the mat like a sandbag.
The camera zooms on Schism’s face—finally showing something. Relief. Acceptance. An end. As he falls into a cover!
1!
2!
THREE!
WINNER: THE REVOLUTION
TD: What a match. What a barnburner! American Storm came close, but the Rev-...hey! Security!
The commune shakes as fans pour in through the ropes…
And hoist Schism and Flynn on their shoulders. Schism lets them. Flynn howls triumph through his megaphone!
“UNITED WE STAND!”
REVOLUTION! The crowd roars back!
TD: Folks, I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything like this before! But something about the Revolution has connected with all these hippies.
GoED: The want for change transcends race, class, gender, age, social structure… Something is wrong and these men can see it. Good on them.
A choir stands on stage, in safe spots, as flame begins to erupt from the stage, as Oz walks out. It seems as if Oswald has literally paid for an entire metal orchestra, just to play him to the ring.
TD: Mister Oz has gone through a number of transformations throughout his lengthy XWF career. But one things that’s consistent is that he is always devastating in the ring.
GoED: If men like this make up your ranks, I vow to never enter your temples again. That is no man, that is a beast!
As the first lick of the guitar hits the air and the drums start off, Oz starts to walk to the ring, dressed in a large white cloak covering his body. However, instead of entering the ring first, he waits. He stands there near the ring floor next to the edge of the ramp. He slowly pulls off the cloak, folds it and then places it on the edge of the ring, next to one of the posts before climbing onto the apron and over the top rope where he goes to his corner, sitting down as he waits for the bell.
A crow caws.
The lights flicker, as the anxiety-inducing first few chords of Dies Irae erupt across the stadium. As all lights center to the top of the stage, creating a path of light down to the ring. Fans erupt into screams, as the Inquisitor's faithful murder whip out their flashlights. The Inquisitor walks out onto the ramp, clad in his leather trench-coat, gloved hands in and full-black getup.
The eye-rings around his mask glint in the light, and you can almost feel him smile through it.
TD: And that is Inquisition. A mysterious new entity to the XWF universe. He had strong words regarding Mister Oz’s new life as a coach, mentoring young talent… Will Inquisition’s words ring true? Or does Mister Oz have wisdom to bestow upon this creature?
With a sudden burst, he dashes down the ring, sliding under the third rope. Throwing his arms out to his side, and his head in the air, he breathes in the sweet sound of fear and adoration. His hands jerk to grasp their opposite shoulders, in a self-hug of sorts. Giving himself a quick squeeze, he runs his hands along his shoulders and across his throat like blades before turning to face his opponent.
…
These two competitors stand across from each other, motionlessly…
The official makes no effort to stand between them… And in fact moves out to the apron, a position of relative safety before he signals to the timekeeper!
DING DING
INQUISITION
- vs -
MISTER OZ Singles
The moment the bell rings, Oz lowers into a stance, eyes locked, chest rising in slow, deliberate rhythm — like a hunter preparing to spring.
TD: Oz daring Inquisition to make the first move here! Trying to get under Inquisiton’s… skin? If he has skin?
GoED: Agitation prevents stagnation!
Oz beats his hand on his chest, daring Inquisition to try him
But Inquisition only tilts his head again, the tiniest twitch of his fingers betraying a flicker of curiosity. He charges.
Suddenly, Inquisition’s mind narrows, his eyes flatten, his lips press tight in concentration… eliminate threats fast.
In a split-second, he goes from inert to shooting forward into a sprint!
Oz is caught off guard!
DROPKICK! Inquisition’s boots slam into Oz’s chest!
TD: Wow! Inquisition, like a speeding bullet!
Oz’s expression twists mid-impact — from calm control to insulted rage.
He staggers back a step toward his corner, but remains on his feet! His eyebrows drawn low, jaw clenching.
Inquisition, with the grace and terror of an acrobat borne from the depths of Hell, lands on his feet, legs coiled!
His nostrils flare like a shark with blood in the water — remove the mind, disable the body.
He immediately rushes forward again.
Oz braces himself, rearing his arm back to catch Inquisition with a haymaker to the skull!
TD: Inquisition’s gotta be careful here, just one strike from Oz has laid out many competitors over the years!
Oz swings!
…But Inquisition unnaturally coils his body around Oz’s arm, and slips to take his back!
SLINGBLADE!
Oz is spun off his feet and slammed into the mat!
TD: Another incredible move by Inquisiton! Oz is used to being the predator, but tonight, he’s looking very prey-like!
GoED: The exploiters make prey of the laboring class!
Oz grimaces. His hand clenches into a fist against the canvas — not from pain, but wounded pride. His grin is gone.
TD: Inquisition got a few strong moves off early, but Oz is not the man to go down easy!
Oz sits up slowly, eyes wide with disbelief that’s morphing into fury. His lips move — silent words, maybe a prayer, maybe a curse. He rises.
Inquisition sees the frustration on his opponent’s face and savors the feeling of prey realizing its hopelessness.
Rapidly, Inquisitions’ gaze flicks to the ropes, judging angles.
Inquisition dashes toward the ropes… Leaping off the middle rope!
Oz’s eyes snap open — a glint of clarity amid the rage. He plants his feet.
Inquisition propels himself through the air!
Oz opens his arms!
SPRINGBOARD CROSSBO-
…
NO!
Oz catches Inquisition midair!
GoED: Ye Gods!
TD: Oz is an absolute MONSTER!
His mouth twists into a snarl.
Oz’s chest swells with divine validation. His muscles ripple as if fueled by righteousness.
He lifts Inquisition high overhead in a Gorilla Press.
Inquisition’s visage coils in shock, like a wild animal caught in a snare! He tries to wriggle back to the mat…
But Oz clings on! Before thrusting Inquisiton down…
Straight onto Oz’s raised knee!
GUTBUSTER!
TD: Oh my God, that one took MY breath away!
Inquisition’s ribs crash down across Oz’s knee. The creature’s face jolts — eyes bulging, lips parting in a breathless cry. He rolls, one arm cradling his side, breath shallow.
Oz’s face hardens. He looms over Inquisition, nostrils flaring. His left eye twitches — not from pain, but suppressed delight. He drops to one knee beside his foe.
TD: Oz speaks through his teaching… And his doctrine is punishment.
Inquisition attempts to coil himself back upright…
But Oz clasps his hands from behind around Inquisition’s throat…
Oz raises his foot.
And drives his knee into Inquisition’s spine!
Inquisition jerks upward, his mouth open in a silent scream, back arched unnaturally. Sweat beads on his brow!
GoED: Pain! The capitalist structure grinds the will of the worker into cents… And Oz grinds Inquisition’s spine into dust!
Oz grips Inquisition by the neck, yanking the slighter creature up to his feet…
TD: Oz forcing his opponent to take more offense… Not out of necessity, but because he finds suffering sacred.
Oz's body language shifts from one of fury to one of… holy ceremony — arms wide, chest lifted. He is exalting the act of inflicting pain.
He twists Inquisition in his grip, looking for a Body Slam!
…But Inquisition writhes his body out of Oz’s grip, back onto his feet!
TD: Inquisition, proving slippery like an eel! Escaping Oz’s grip!
Oz, furious to be countered, tries to clinch Inquisition back into his control…
But Inquisition slips backwards towards the ropes!
He bounces off!
LEAPING ENZUIGIRI!
Inquisition’s boot KERACKS into the side of Oz’s head like thunder!
Oz reels, the impact stuns him. He blinks twice, shaking it off, mouth hanging open like a broken hinge…
GoED: Wow!
Inquisition spares no time. His arms wrap Oz’s head, his body twists!
CRACK. TORNADO DDT!
Oz lands head-first, his vertebrae twisting unnaturally as his skull collides with the mat. His eyes flutter. He’s still.
Inquisition doesn’t celebrate. He merely drops into a cover…
The skittish official counts from the safety of the apron…
ONE!
TWO!
THR-KICKOUT!
TD: Oz refuses to die… But Inquisition seems more than eager to test that refusal.
Inquisition’s inhuman visage sneers… As if delighted for the opportunity to break Oz further…
Oz sits up. His shoulders are trembling. His eyes are empty — not defeated, but touched by something unholy. He stands.
…As Oz rises back to his feet… His lips part. Not in a smile, but... satisfaction?
Inquisition springs forth!
DROPSAULT! Like a marvelous maniac, Inquisition executes a picture-perfect dropkick into a backflip!
…But Oz catches the strike with his chest! He doesn’t move backward an inch!
TD: Miscalculation by Inquisition! He seemed to think Oz was done… not even close.
Inquisition tries to scramble up to his f-
SPEAR!
Oz drives his shoulder straight through Inquisiton’s gut!
Inquisiton’ torso nearly gets driven through the mat!
TD: SPEAR! SPEAR! SPEAR!
Inquisition gasps — and for the first time, he blinks. His brain lags. His hand reaches for his chest — something cracked?
Oz creeps beside his opponent. His fingers curl. The smile returns — wide, triumphant, almost... mournful.
Emotion: Oz believes. He believes so hard.
“I FAILED YOU!”
He forces the Mandible Claw into Inquisition’s mouth!
TD: I FAILED YOU! Oz calling for the finish here.
The official, still maintaining a safe distance, calls out asking if Inquisition would like to submit!
Inquisition thrashes like a dying star. His legs kick, his body spasms. A vein in Oz’s forehead pulsates as he forces his hands into Inquisition’s gullet, continuously telling him… ‘I’m sorry’...
TD: …God, both these guys creep me out.
GoED: We may not have much in common, Thaddeus, but on that point, we agree.!
Inquisition’s hand travel up Oz’s arm… At first, the motion appears panicked, like the last twitches of a dying animal…
When suddenly… a pattern seems to emerge.
Not submission. Calculation.
Emotion: Inquisition finds a sliver of logic in a sea of panic. One window. One move.
TD: What’s this? Inquisition looks like he’s not ready to throw in the towel!
With a sudden burst of energy, Inquisition…
Somersaults himself and Oz!
The position’s reverse! Now Inquisition is on top of Oz!
TD: What a counter!
Oz, refusing to be caught on his back, shoves his smaller opponent toward the corner!
Inquisition seemingly hesitates close to the turnbuckle… Oz senses his opportunity!
He goes for another spear!
…
But Inquisition catches his feet around Oz’s ankle!
And delivers a drop-toe hold straight onto the second turnbuckle!
EREBOS’ REVELATION!
TD: Another incredible maneuver from Inquisition! As mesmerizing an offense as it is agnoizing!
Oz’s face smashes into the second turnbuckle. Blood. Maybe from the nose. Maybe not.
Inquisition’s chest rises. Falls. Then again — faster. It’s not breathing. It’s momentum.
He ascends the ropes, movements shaky but driven.
…Oz slowly, exhaustedly rises…
As Inquisition leaps to the top rope! And sails through the air!
FATHER’S JUDG-
…No! Oz catches Inquisition in midair on his shoulders!
GoED: The sheer strength of this… this leviathan!
Inquisition, shocked, tries to drive his fingers into Oz’s e-
HELLACIOUS POWERBOMB!
Inquisition is almost broken in half on impact. The air leaves him. His limbs flop outward. Gone.
Oz stacks his opponent’s shoulders on the mat!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER: MISTER OZ
TD: What an absolute war between two monsters! Inquisition, in his debut, looked absolutely devastating. His future on Thursday Nights looks bright… which makes everyone else’s look dark. But Mister Oz, the monster, found a way to win this Battle of the Titans.
GoED: The true monster is capitalism!
…
GoED: That said, please let’s move onto something else so I don’t have to be around either of these two!
Ye Olde Commune – Nightfall
The sun is gone. In its place: a vast black canopy of Florida sky, draped over an ocean of faces—upwards of a million people, stretching from the barricades to the horizon. Spotlights drift lazily across the crowd. The ring glows like a temple, dead center in a field of worship.
The moment the lights begin to strobe, that creeping, skeletal melody spills out of the massive sound system—"When I Am Queen" by Jack Off Jill—and the air curdles.
The crowd responds with a guttural wave of boos.
In the center of the stage stands Sarah Wolf, her body deathly still, her shadow tall and sharpened by the flickering strobes. She doesn’t walk down the ramp so much as glide, unhurried, indifferent to the storm of hatred swelling around her. Behind her drifts a second figure in a black long coat and wide-brimmed preacher’s hat, leather corset and slacks molded to her like sin.
Emilia Glazkov. The Advocate.
She cradles a black, tear-shaped bottle, glinting beneath the lights. A single word is engraved along the glass: CONSECRATION.
TD: Okay, Mean Gene. If you’re going to be my commentary partner, you gotta learn who people are. THAT is Emilia Glazkov. And that bottle—same one she used to disfigure Tommy Wish on Anarchy. I don’t know if he’s spoken a coherent word since.
GoED: The opiate of the masses…
TD: Well, You’d lose your grasp on reality too if a synthetic acid hallucinogen got sprayed in your eyeballs. Don’t let the outfit fool you, Mean Gene. That woman is more dangerous than she looks.[/color]
Sarah enters the ring by rolling under the bottom rope and curling into a crouch. Her expression is unreadable. She selects a corner and leans, a predator waiting for the cage door to open. Emilia remains on the outside, glaring at the fans.
The lights shift again—this time to white.
"Forgotten" by The Plot In You thunders through the sound system. A single spotlight explodes at the top of the ramp, revealing Solomon Kline, kneeling on one knee, black hoodie shadowing his face.
The beat drops.
He rises slowly, pulling back the hood and soaking in the reaction—a wall of fists and roars. Sparks rain behind him as he stomps down the ramp, slapping hands and shouting with unfiltered intensity.
As the lyrics come in, he stands, removes his hood and surveys the crowd as sparks rain down around him. He grooves his way toward the ring, and high fives fans along the way. He circles the ring and slides under the bottom rope. He continues rocking out to the song, then heads to the turnbuckle with a primal scream as the lyrics say "I have spent my life chasing things that have only brought me pain. In the end when I'm dead, hope it was for something!"
Sarah watches him, unimpressed.
[thad]TD: Now, that guy? Is Solomon Kline. And he’s been waiting for this moment since he walked into the XWF. And what a setting. Nearly a million strong here at Ye Olde Commune, and they’re all behind him.
GoED: When great changes occur in history, when great principles are involved, as a rule the majority are wrong.
TD: Normally, I’d agree.But this Kline kid? He’s got guts. Heart. Anger issues. A taste for blunt objects. That said—Sarah Wolf is the wrong woman to try and out-mean.
Kline slides under the ropes and paces, ripping the hoodie off, baring tattooed arms and fire in his eyes. He locks on Sarah—and for just a second, she smiles.
DING DING DING
SARAH WOLF
- vs -
SOLOMON KLINE Singles
Kline charges.
The two collide center ring, but Solomon powers straight through, driving Sarah backward with a shoulder tackle that sends her tumbling into the ropes. She bounces back up—and eats a dropkick to the chest!
TD: Fast start from Kline!
GoED: The oppressor cannot be struck at slowly! Resistance must be mounted with expedience!
Sarah hits the mat and immediately rolls to her feet, but Kline blitzes—grabs her wrist and whips her into the corner so hard it echoes. He barrels in after her—running knee to the gut!
Before she can slump forward, he scoops her up in a clean motion and SLAMS her into the center of the ring!
TD: Scoop slam! Sarah Wolf just bounced off the canvas like a crash test dummy!
Kline doesn’t waste a second—hooks the leg!
ONE!
TWO—KICKOUT!
GoED: Impatient young lad. I find his spirit invigorating.
Sarah snarls and scrambles up—only to catch a stiff forearm to the jaw from Kline. She tries to sidestep, but he grabs her by the waist—GERMAN SUPLEX!
She folds on impact!
The crowd erupts!
TD: Did you see the torque on that suplex? Solomon Kline came here tonight to make a statement!
Kline roars, flexing his hands. His face is flushed, his eyes wild—but Emilia doesn’t flinch. She stands silently outside the ring, bottle in hand, gaze fixed on him like an undertaker waiting for a heartbeat to stop.
Sarah tries to roll out of the ring, but Kline grabs her by the leg—and drags her back toward the center.
He lifts her—Blue Thunder Bomb!
TD: That might be it!
ONE!
TWO!!—NO!!!
Sarah barely kicks out, but the frustration on Kline’s face is already visible.
TD: Now, pay attention, Mean Gene. Sol’s gotta keep his cool. Sarah wants him to get emotional. She thrives on mistakes.
GoED: Emotion is what makes us human, Thaddeus. Where the profit-seeking exploiter sees weakness, I see a beating heart.
TD: Emotion loses matches, Mean Gene. And a beating heart is something Sarah is going to try to pull out of her opponent.
Kline runs a hand through his hair and backs into a corner. He crouches, slapping the mat, signaling for something big.
Sarah slowly pulls herself to her knees.
Kline explodes out of the corner—looking for a spear—but Sarah side-steps at the last second and shoves him chest-first into the turnbuckles!
He stumbles backward—
CHOP BLOCK! Right to the back of the knee!
Kline drops hard—and Sarah POUNCES, clubbing his back with rapid, rabid forearms. Ten strikes, maybe more.
The crowd boos thunderously.
TD: Solomon has just woken the sleeping dragon…
Sarah crawls over him like a spider and wrenches his arm behind his back, grinding her forearm into his neck. She doesn’t go for a pin. She whispers something to him instead.
Outside the ring, Emilia steps forward, her presence alone enough to send nearby fans recoiling from the barricade. She tilts her head slowly, the bottle glinting in the light, as if judging Solomon’s soul from a distance.
The camera catches Kline looking at her—just for a second—and Sarah BITES HIS EAR.
GoED: Jee hosephat! That woman just bit that young man!
TD: If you thought Sarah Wolf would play by the rules? This is the Black Rainbow, Mean Gene—everything’s permitted except kindness.
Kline rolls away, holding the side of his face, shouting at the ref—who missed the bite. Sarah rises slowly, hair wild, lips curled back in something between a smile and a threat.
As Kline gets to his feet—she SMACKS him across the face.
TD: She’s provoking him. If he’s not carefully, he’s gonna play right into her hands.
Solomon rushes her again—this time swinging wildly—but Sarah ducks low, grabs his leg—
CALF SLICER!
She wraps her body around his and pulls back with a snarl, wrenching the knee!
Kline howls in pain!
TD: That hold is in deep! She’s got that slicer locked in and she is ripping through that leg! If he doesn’t get to the ropes, we may not even get an Act II.
GoED: The one thing the common man is no stranger to is pain. We must survive at all costs.
Kline drags himself across the mat inch by inch—and barely reaches the bottom rope!
TD: Rope break! Referee calls for the hold to be broken!
Sarah doesn’t let go.
She pulls harder.
The ref counts:
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!—
Sarah finally releases, hands raised—but she stands chest to chest with the ref, growling at him like he just stepped into a lion’s den.
TD: Things are shifting now. Kline looked dominant to start, but you can feel the air getting colder. Sarah Wolf has changed the rhythm of this match. That’s what she does, Mean Gene. Wolf survives the fire—and poisons the water.
GoED: The profiteer bottles and sells the water. And burns the well thus that thirsty men must buy.
TD: …I feel like we’re talking about two different things.
The ropes still quiver from the weight of Sarah’s grip. The referee retreats a few paces, visibly shaken, adjusting his shirt like it might protect him from what’s in front of him.
Kline clutches his knee.
TD: You can see it on the ref’s face—he knows what Sarah Wolf is capable of. She’s a sadist. It’s not enough to win—she wants Solomon to remember why he lost.
Kline pulls himself up using the turnbuckles, favoring his knee. His jaw is clenched in pain. Sarah stalks him with surgical patience, crouched low, arms twitching like she’s ready to strike from all fours.
Suddenly, she springs forward—
KICK to the back of the bad knee!
Solomon shouts and drops again. Sarah grabs him by the head and starts yanking at his ear, biting it again before the ref pulls her away.
TD: Wolf’s got more issues with her back than a magazine stand, Mean Gene—but when she’s in the zone like this? Pain becomes fuel.
Sarah drops a knee across the base of Kline’s spine. She doesn't bounce off the ropes. Doesn’t need to. She just drives it in like a hammer hitting drywall. Then she transitions—grabs his arms, wraps a leg over his neck, and slides into a PERUVIAN NECKTIE.
TD: Oh no—she’s going for it again! Necktie’s locked in tight!
GoED: Don’t give in, freedomfighter!
Kline’s boots scrape wildly at the mat, but Sarah cinches the choke even tighter, her back arching with every violent pull of his head and neck. His face turns red, then purple, his arms reaching for anything—ropes, fingers, salvation.
TD: This is pure wolfpack hunting instinct from Sarah Wolf. She’s isolating a limb, breaking it down, and looking to crack something open.
The ref leans in. “Do you want to quit?”
Kline shakes his head no—barely.
But his foot brushes the bottom rope.
The ref shouts—ROPE BREAK!
Sarah doesn’t care.
She grabs the top rope with both hands and leans back, cranking the stretch even harder, using the tension to bend Solomon’s neck at a vicious angle.
GoED: Outrageous! She’s using the rope! That’s illegal!, is it not, Thaddeus?
TD: Starting to get into it, huh, Gene? It IS illegal… but she has until the count of five.
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!—
The ref finally pries her off. She lets go—slowly—standing upright with both arms raised like a cult leader before a crowd of converts.
The boos rain down again.
Outside, Emilia Glazkov steps closer to the apron. The stage lights catch her face just right—bone-pale, lips black, eyes unreadable beneath the wide brim of her preacher’s hat. She lifts the bottle of Consecration and turns it slowly in her hand, like a warning.
TD: That’s not just a fashion statement, Mean Gene. That’s ritual. That’s theater. The Black Rainbow doesn’t walk to the ring—they descend.
Back in the ring, Sarah’s stalking Kline again. She grabs a handful of hair and lifts him to his feet, then immediately drops him with a NECKBREAKER.
COVER!
ONE!
TWO!!—KICKOUT!
Kline jerks a shoulder up, barely, his body limp from the accumulated damage.
Sarah snarls. She kicks him in the ribs.
Again.
Again.
TD: Those aren’t just kicks—she’s trying to break his ribcage open.
GoED: Capitalism IS violence.
TD: This is what happens when you give someone with Sarah Wolf’s psychology a license to hurt people.
Kline gasps, trying to sit up.
Sarah crouches beside him—and SLAPS him across the face.
SLAP.
Kline lifts his head.
SLAP.
Kline looks at her now. His eye is twitching.
SLAP.
Then something shifts.
Kline grabs her wrist—yanks her in and HEADBUTTS her square in the mouth!
The crowd roars!
TD: Wait! Solomon’s still in this fight!
Sarah reels back—blood smearing her lip—but she turns and grins through it.
Kline is on one knee now, breathing hard, his hair wild, sweat pouring off his chest.
He shouts and lunges forward—LARIAT! Sarah flips inside out from the force of it!
GoED: My word! She just did a full revolution in midair!
TD: Appropriate, this show’s all about revolution.
Kline drops to his knees—drags her up—
SUPLEX!
Rolls the hips—GERMAN SUPLEX!
Rolls again—DRAGON SUPLEX!
He bridges!
ONE!
TWO!!—NO!!!
Sarah kicks out and immediately scrambles to the apron, sliding out of the ring to recover.
Kline stumbles after her, limping, but too fired up to care. He grabs Sarah by the hair—
—and gets a face full of Emilia Glazkov.
Not an attack.
Just presence.
She’s standing right there, staring at him.
Holding the bottle.
He hesitates.
TD: Mind games on display by Glazkov. He’s not sure if she’s gonna spray him. Would you be?
Sarah uses that second—yanks his neck across the top rope! Kline whiplashes backward, staggering!
Sarah slides in behind him, grabs his leg—
CALF SLICER AGAIN!
But this time—Kline rolls through!
He gets to his feet, limping, and grabs Sarah—
BLUE THUNDER BOMB!
ONE!
TWO!!—KICKOUT!
TD: That was the closest fall of the match! Sarah’s reeling. But Kline can’t waste this opening. He’s gotta capitalize right now.
GoED: Now is your time, young man! Strike true at the heart of the oppressor!
Kline slaps the mat, gesturing to the crowd—signals for something big.
He pulls Sarah to her feet, hooks her arms—
ASHES TO ASHES!
He launches her with the pop-up—and drives his forearm through her jaw on the way down!
The crowd erupts!
Sarah collapses like a marionette with its strings cut.
Kline covers!
ONE!
TWO!!—NO!!!
She kicks out again.
GoED: NO! How did that foul creature survive that hellacious strike!
TD: Sarah Wolf doesn’t know how to die. She just wants to hurt.
Kline rolls off her, panting, sweat and blood dripping down his face. The pain is catching up to him. But the fire in his chest? Still burning.
Across the ring, Sarah claws her way to a seated position.
The two lock eyes.
Sarah smiles through a bloodied mouth. Kline wipes his nose and nods once.
They rise.
Together.
TD: This thing’s not over. Not even close.
The lights from the massive stage rig cast long shadows across the ring, giving the mat a ghostly glow. Overhead, the screens flicker with blood-stained sweat, magnified for the sea of bodies stretching from the barricade to the tree line. The crowd is unrelenting—roaring, stomping, alive.
In the center of it all, Sarah Wolf and Solomon Kline rise like two revenants. Bruised. Bloodied. Unwilling to fall.
TD: They’ve torn each other apart, Mean Gene. It’s been nine straight minutes of punishment. And we’re still no closer to knowing who walks out of this alive.
GoED: The war is a bloody one. Grinding decent men into broken bits.
TD: One of them’s gonna stop breathing first. That’s the only way this ends.
They meet in the middle—no words exchanged—just fists.
Solomon throws a forearm. Sarah staggers.
Sarah throws a hook. Solomon reels.
He answers with a knife-edge chop so loud it echoes across the swamp.
BG: Good god, he just concussed her sternum.
She grits her teeth and slaps him again. Then grabs his wrist—PULLS HIM IN FOR A KNEE STRIKE!
Kline catches the leg!
He lifts—SIT-OUT POWERBOMB!
TD: He planted her! Cover!!
ONE!
TWO!!—KICKOUT!!!
Kline slaps the mat. His breathing is ragged. His leg is barely holding. But the fire’s still in him.
He stands—slowly—and signals for the end.
TD: If he hits it, it’s over. He’s calling for Dust to Dust!
Solomon pulls Sarah up, her limbs loose, lips curling into that ever-sick smile.
He turns his back to her, tucks her arms—setting up for the VERTEBREAKER.
The crowd rises to its feet.
But at the edge of the ring—Emilia Glazkov slithers onto the apron. She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t touch.
She just stands there, black bottle of Consecration glinting in her hand, eyes locked on the referee.
And the ref notices.
He turns—stepping toward her—demanding she get down.
TD: The referee’s distracted!
GoED: Your honor! Turn around!
Kline yells something—he knows what’s happening, but he can’t stop mid-lift. He starts to pull—
BUT SARAH BACKFLIPS OUT!
She lands on her feet behind him!
Solomon spins—AND TAKES A KICK RIGHT BETWEEN THE LEGS!
TD: LOW BLOW!! Behind the referee’s back!
GoED: …Justice is truly blind.
Kline drops to his knees, both hands clutching his groin, face twisted in agony.
Sarah backs into the ropes, springs forward—
DEATH!
COMES!
RIPPING!
Her knee drives through his face like a bullet through glass. A contingent of fans scream “WHOA-OHHHH DEATH COMES RIPPING!” like Danzig.
TD: DEATH COMES RIPPING CONNECTS!!
Kline crumples onto his back, arms splayed out wide.
Emilia steps down from the apron like nothing happened. The referee turns—
COVER!
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
DING DING DING
WINNER: SARAH WOLF
TD: And just like that—another body left broken in the Black Rainbow’s wake.
GoED: That young man fought his heart out, but those foul wretches…
TD: Sarah Wolf and her Advocate… they played it perfectly. Dirty. But perfect.
Sarah kneels over Solomon, brushing a strand of blood-soaked hair from her cheek. Not mocking. Not celebratory. Just… satisfied.
Outside, Emilia climbs the steps slowly, bottle still clutched in her gloved hands. She enters the ring without sound and lowers herself into a kneel before Sarah, holding the bottle like a sacred relic.
TD: That’s not just some victory ritual. That’s worship.
GoED: I would rather take my chances with a saloon-keeper than with the average preacher.
TD: The Advocate kneeling before the Black Rainbow’s chosen executioner. Yelena’s army is real, Mean Gene. And tonight, they just proved they can bleed the next generation dry.
The camera closes in on Sarah’s face—expression vacant, calm, splattered with another man’s blood—while behind her, Emilia smiles like something ancient has stirred.
Cut to the crowd: a mixture of fury and awe.
Cut to the stage: the flickering sigil of the Black Rainbow burning on the screen above.
TD: The night started off not too great for the Black Rainbow when Enigma came up short)for the XWF TV Title. But Sarah just put a nail in the coffin of Solomon Kline. And in case you live under a rock... in the Main Event the Black Rainbow Yelena Gorgo vs. James Shark. If you thought this was twisted… Just wait.
Solomon Kline eyes Sarah Wolf and extends his hand for a handshake. Sarah looks at him up and down and pauses. She seems to contemplate whether to shake his had for a moment. She extends her own hand...and then pulls it away. She kicks Solomon in the gut and spits a black viscous liquid into her right hand. Wolf's blood! She charges him and reaches toward his mouth for the Hybrid Moment, but Kline ducks at the last moment, steps behind her and wrenches her arm, sending her own hand covered in Wolf's blood into her face! She falls to her knees, screaming in pain. The lights go out.
When the lights come back on, Sarah has made her way ouside the ring. In the ring stands Enigma and Marisol Vilaro, who charge Solomon and start raining punches and kicks on him. He tries to fight them off and pushes Marisol off of him successfully, but Enigma continues the assault. Enigma hits Kline with a European uppercut and send him reeling. He runs the ropes and lariat! But Kline ducks under it and lands a vicious savate kick to Enigma! Sarah reenters the ring and rushes towards Kline, but he pops her up and hits Ashes to Ashes! A forearm to the face. Sarah stumbles backward and through the ropes onto the apron. She catches herself before falling out of the ring and jumps off the top rope, springboarding towards Solomon, and Death Comes Ripping! Single leg meteora takes him down! Solomon coughs on the mat as the Black Rainbow members make their way out of the ring toward the entrance. Solomon motions for a microphone and ring crew brings him one as he makes his way up to his knees. He is breathing heavily after his match and the fight that ensued.
Solomon Kline: Black. Rainbow. Sarah. Enigma. You two against me and a partner of my choosing. Tag team cage match at Rebellion. No other Black Rainbow members allowed at ringside. Do it if you are aren't cowards!
He tosses the microphone aside and stands up, motioning for them to bring it on. The Black Rainbow members look at him in disgust and walk backstage.
The shot reveals Corey Smith on the exterior grounds of the commune. He’s got a small XWF television crew with him, including Steve Sayors. Corey appears to be pointing out certain areas of the exterior of the main house, talking as he goes.
:...after the fire in 2023, the house underwent what would be a $2 million dollar repair and renovation project. Some of the inhabitants of the commune ended up having to stay elsewhere while the renovations were undertaken. I helped them find alternate accommodations of course, typically local hotels. Most of them, er, didn’t have supportive family…
Steve cuts in, holding a microphone up to Corey’s face.
And was anyone injured in the fire?
Thankfully not, Steve. Although….
Corey’s gaze turns away from the assembled medial scrum before him. His eyes narrow as he spots something…or someone….in the near distance. Steve follows Corey’s gaze and his eyes go wide.
Uh, Corey, that seems to be….
Yeah Steve, I see him. Corey turns back towards the assembled media crew. Give me a sec, eh?
Steve nods and Corey walks off. But unbeknownst to Corey Steve frantically gestures at the camera crew to “keep rolling”.
The shot follows Corey as he walks off, and we soon see who he’s walking towards.
Thunder Knuckles.
Corey stops about five feet shy of TK. TK has his hand on his chin, bearing a half grin, as he looks past Corey at the commune proper. TK pulls out his gold Zippo lighter and lights up a cigar. Even though the cigar is lit, TK leaves the flame burning for a second. Oh, don’t worry, I'm putting it out. Corey doesn’t seem amused. TK flips the Zippo closed and points at the house. I sure, as fuck, hope you had a good fire suppression system put in, Corey.
Corey purses his lips but doesn’t seem invested in taking the bait. There was one already, TK. It minimized the damage and prevented any loss of life. Corey cants his head. You know, I’m actually kinda glad you’re here.
TK shrugs. The pleasure’s all yours, I can fucking assure you. I gotta say though, Cor, when I heard you banned Madison Dyson and not me from the grounds…? I thought to myself, goddamn, what’s a Bastard gotta do?
Corey continues, his expression betraying very little. You’re right. I did ban her and not you.
I should be insulted right now… but honestly, I'm too damn awesome to care.TK throws his hands out, chuckling a bit. Now it’s got me thinkin’, though, maybe I should have tried harder a couple of years ago, ya know?
Yeah, maybe you should have. But you didn’t. Corey looks back at the house and points at it, before returning his attention to TK. And that’s basically why I didn’t ban you from the property. Because I wanted you to see what you failed to destroy. I wanted you to see that despite your best efforts, hope continues….decency rolls on….and good soldiers forth. I wanted you to come face to face with your abject FAILURE to kill what this place means to so many people. Because quite frankly, that there is better than ANY “fuck you” I can proffer up. Corey’s gaze lingers on TK’s, steely eyed. TK shaking his head yes with a smirk on his face.
I guess you’re right, Cor’. TK says dismissively. I guess, there’s always room for fucking improvement. TK pats Corey on his shoulder as he’s walking away, ashing his cigar on the ground TK says See ya around, or some shit.
Corey considers TK strangely as he walks off, but seems to settle. Clearly the man is not here for a fight, and Corey’s point was made. Corey turns back towards Sayors and the crew, proudly not missing a beat as he continued to explain all the improvements made to the commune.
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.
TD: Matthias Syn embodies the Revolution! For over EIGHT months, he was the Revolution champion! You’d think May Day would be 100% in Matthias Syn’s corner! But, he’s wrestling the hometown hero!
GoED: The Revolution is no one man. It is every man.
TD: Try telling that to Matthias, who has decided he IS the Revolution. And honestly, the crowd being against him is Matthias’ style… If he can beat Corey Smith in Coreytopia, Syn would accomplish something no competitor ever has! Can he do it tonight?
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.
The arena is pitch black and the melancholy opening tunes to “Identity” begin. But as the song starts to pick up in intensity, down in the entry way, you see a Jericho-esque light up jacket glow brilliantly. Then, twin explosions emit from either side of the ramp and the lights turn on in a swirling red and blue pattern that throb in sync with the beats of the song. Corey comes down the ramp, the jacket now flashing intermittent heart and lightning bolt patterns. On the 'Tron you see images of Corey/Lux pulling off fantastic moves, intercut with blur effects on Corey's face that obscure his features in an eerie way.
TD: There he is! Corey Smith! Former Universal champion! One-time WarGames winner… (with a team name that I will refrain from repeating)...
GoED: Is it dirty?.
TD: One could say so. Don’t look it up. But, Corey Smith is wrestling on his home turf! Hell, his actual home! In front of one million fans in his corner! With this environment last year, he managed to be the first and only man to beat ALIAS one-on-one… Can he remain undefeated at Coreytopia?
Corey gets on the ring apron, throwing his arms over the top rope as the jacket keeps flashing. He looks pumped as hell, and starts pointing out at the fans before rushing to the top rope, surveying the crowd from on high, before dropping down to the canvas and handing off his jacket. He paces the ring now, waiting for the match to begin as the music and lighting effects wind down.
Matthias Syn
- vs -
Corey Smith Singles
The bell rings.
Matthias Syn’s eyes gleam, lips curled into that mocking half-smile he wears like a crown. He saunters forward with a bounce in his step, shoulders loose…
TD: Syn’s got that confident swagger, like he thinks he can beat anybody! And he’s proved he can! He held the Revolution title for over EIGHT months!
GoED: Quite a feat!
TD: You said it, Mean Gene! But, he’s facing Corey Smith in his own home! Among the biggest challenges any wrestler can face in this industry!
Syn gets right in Corey’s face and taps his own chin, taunting, daring Corey to take the first swing…
Corey Smith tilts his head, not amused. His nostrils flare ever so slightly, and his jaw tightens as he slowly exhales through his nose. His brow stays steady—focused.
TD: Corey refusing to play into Syn’s mindgames early on, that’s the discipline that made him a Universal ch-
WAP!
…
Syn slapped Corey across the face.
Corey’s head jerks to the side. His eyes close for half a second—processing, controlling.
The crowd ooooooooohs shocked.
TD: …Corey, fuck that guy up.
Then Corey’s lips press into a tight grin… Without a word, he snatches Syn’s wrist.
…Syn’s expression turns into one of surprise…
As Corey suddenly yanks Syn forward…
WHAM! Blistering knee to the face, snapping Syn’s head back with a loud thud.
Syn’s smirk drops instantly. His knees wobble as he staggers back toward the ropes… his eyes unfocused.
TD: Critical hit by Corey! Syn looks knocked for a loop!
But Corey’s already in motion. His face calm, eyes dialed in…
Syn shoves off the ropes, looking to attack…
But he runs straight into Corey’s boot! DROPSAULT!
Smith’s backflip drives his boots square into Syn’s chest!
Syn takes the impact extra hard, as he ran straight into it! He lands hard on his back, eyes wide, both hands clutching his sternum. He rolls under the ropes, panic leaking through his scowl as he scrambles to the outside to reset.
TD: Syn heading outside the ring to catch a breather!
GoED: Work stoppage! He truly is a revolutionary!
The Coreytopian crowd pats Syn on the back as he leans back on the barricade, catching his breath…
…But Corey doesn’t give Syn a chance to catch his breath! He sprints backwards…
Hits the ropes…
Runs toward Syn on the outside!
…Corey leaps!
TOPE SUICIDA!
Corey launches himself through the ropes, smashing into Syn’s ribs and sending him crashing spine-first into the barricade!
TD: Corey is genuinely running this match like he’s never been gone!
Syn grits his teeth, face twisted in pain, eyes watering from the blow. He groans, his hands pawing at his ribs.
Corey’s face shows no cockiness—just intent, as he looks around the crowd screaming for him!
YOU STILL GOT IT! *clap clap clapclapclap*
TD: They’re not wrong!
Corey grasps Syn by the scruff of the neck, scooping him off the mat outside the ring…
Syn’s legs seem like jelly… Corey struggles to pull him all the way u-
WHAM! Suddenly, Syn drives his hip up into Corey’s gut! Smith doubles over! TD: Syn played a little possum and caught Corey off-guard!
…Syn sneers, grabbing Corey by the throat, before hurling him back under the bottom rope!
Smith rolls under the bottom rope, scrambling up to his feet…
Syn pursues him from behind like a cheetah closing in on a gazelle! He extends his arm, just as Corey turns around…
LARIAT!
…
Is ducked!
Corey reads the intent in Syn’s eyes, sidesteps with ease, ducks under the blow!
Syn spins around to continue the attack… and catches two sharp forearms to the neck from Syn!
…Syn staggers back… He tries to surge forward with a grapple! But Smith catches him with a Roundhouse Kick straight to the ribs!
TD: For once, it looks an opponent is shutting Syn up!
GoED: The Revolution cannot be silenced!
TD: But Matthias Syn can be!
Syn doubles over again, jaw hanging open, saliva trailing down his lip. He’s gasping now, body folding around his ribs like broken scaffolding.
Corey, with a flicker of adrenaline dancing behind his eyes, hits the ropes behind him…
And leaps with a Knee to the face, knocking Syn onto his back!
Corey dives into a cover! The official drops to count!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-KICKOUT!
Syn forces a shoulder off the mat… And rolls on his side, slamming his hand on the mat, furious! His face is red, trying to breathe but choking on rage. He rolls to his knees and shouts something incoherent at the referee.
TD: Syn clearly frustrated here…
Seeing that emotion break, Corey’s eyes widen slightly, perhaps surprised at how easily Syn is unraveling.
He goes to grasp Syn by the back of the h-
Syn wraps his mitts around Smith’s neck! And sits out!
Sit-out Jawbreaker!
Smith flops onto his back, cradling his larynx!
In one fell swoop, Syn falls on Corey, grabbing him from above by the waist and shoving his head between Syn’s legs!
Syn tears off…
A PILEDRIVER! Planting Smith’s skull into the mat!
TD: Wow! Syn pulling out the heavy artillery!
GoED: The time for action is now!
Corey’s skull crashes HARD against the mat!
Syn draws his thumb against his nose, before mounting Corey into a pin!
The official counts!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-KICKOUT!
Corey arches his back, taking his shoulders off the mat.. He cradles his neck in agony, mouth wide open, back spasming under the impact.
Syn’s mouth stretches into a crooked grin.
He yanks Corey up off his feet, hooks both arms…
TIGER SUPLEX!
With surprisingly technical acumen, Syn bridges into a pin from the Tiger Suplex!
The official counts!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
…NO! Corey’s hand grips the bottom rope!
TD: Syn got cocky feeling he was in control of this match! If he’d thought about his position in the ring, he might have stolen this one from Corey!
The official stops the count, as Corey releases the ropes…gasps sharply, trying to roll to his side, his face a mask of pain.
Syn looks up at the official, who holds up two fingers…. And sneers frustratedly…
Syn lifts Corey again, slower this time, his face beaded with sweat and tension.
Then he drops Corey across his knee!
BACKBREAKER!
Corey’s body jackknifes, mouth agape in a silent scream as he grabs at his lower back.
TD: Syn’s in control right now… Corey’s gotta do something!
GoED: Fight the controllers! The time to act IS now!
…Syn drags Corey away from the ropes, driving his forearm into Corey’s face as he hooks the leg…
ONE!
TW-
COREY KICKS OUT AT ONE!
The crowd pops at the surprising early kickout!
TD: Corey showing signs of life! If Syn thinks he’s going to slowly sap the life out of Corey, he doesn’t know how brimming with life Corey is!
…Syn looks down with a grim expression at Corey, clearly not liking the symbolic resistance of kicking out at one…
Syn rises, shaking his head violently.
Corey’s lips twitch, not in defiance—just sheer determination…
Syn snarls, drawing his arm across his throat before dragging Corey to his feet.
He drags Corey into guillotine position, looking for the SYNthesis!
Syn smiles into the camera… Syn spins!
…But Corey twists in his grip! And sneaks behind Syn!
TD: Corey Smith is not done yet!
The crowd pops with elation! Syn’s eyes go wide…
As Corey unleashes a flurry of strikes from Syn’s rear!
Back Kick to the leg!
Axe Kick to the spine!
Spinning Backfist to the temple!
Syn drops flat on his face, crawling away, trying to create distance… He scrambles up in the corner, trying to pull himself back to a vertical base by the turnbuckle…
Corey snarls now, drawing from somewhere deeper… He charges Syn in the corner…
HELLUVA KICK!
CONNECTS!
Smith’s boot snaps Syn’s head back into the corner.
Syn stumbles forward, glassy-eyed…. Looking like he’s barely clinging onto consciousness!
As Syn stumbles out of the corner, Corey wraps Syn in a front-facelock… He spins!
NECKBREAKER!
Syn cradles his vertebrae! Smith hooks the leg!
The official counts!
ONE!
TWO!
THREEEEE-KICKOUT!
At the last possible moment, Syn desperately hurls the shoulder up…
TD: Corey’s starting to feel that fire in his chest! If Syn doesn’t do something this one, this one might be over!
Corey’s hands slap the mat, but he breathes deeply, grounding himself. The crowd begins to swell.
…Syn, shaking his head from the mat… reaches into his tights…
Pulling out a pair of… brass knuckles?
TD: Right in front of the official? Is he trying to get disqualified!?!
Corey goes to finish off Syn…
But the official steps between them, pointing at the knuckles! He grabs them from Syn, admonishing the former Revolution champion… He goes to give them to the timekeeper outside the ring…
Smith approaches Syn…
WHEN SYN SPLITS THE UPRIGHTS WITH A LOW BLOW PUNT TO SMITH’S NETHARDS!
TD: …..Oooooooooooouch.
Corey folds instantly, eyes bulging. He drops to the mat in agony, legs curled, jaw clenched as he chokes down a yell.
The official turns around, having no idea why the crowd is furiously booing Syn… Or how the tables turned and now Syn is in control…
Syn’s face is pure satisfaction, a wolf grinning at a cornered lamb. He grabs Corey by the back… Securing him in a guillotine…
Syn goes for a spin!
SYNthesis!
…
COUNTERED! Smith from the guillotine launches a kick, catching Syn in the face!
Syn covers his face, staggering back toward the ropes…
Corey shoves off the mat… And his foot spins through the air!
FACE PAIN DE-LUX!!!
TD: The most beautiful kick in wrestling!
His shin cracks Syn’s skull like a whip. Syn's body stiffens and collapses flat.
Corey collapses over him.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER: COREY SMITH
TD: A strong win for Corey Smith! Matthias Syn pulled out his usual playbook of tricks, but Corey Smith proved his superior tonight!
Within the compound of Coreytopia, we see JB and T, and Reggie chilling in a sunroom somewhere with some hoes in bikinis, and some ciroc. As music was playing, JB decided to sit on the couch of the sunroom, where he downs a red cup of ciroc, and had some girls under his arms feelin like a mac daddy on the compound.
“JB, why did you invite us to Coreytopia?”
“I wanted to, plus y’all needed some time in the Florida heat.”
“I mean, I appreciate it, but why do you really want us here?... is there something deep going on here?”
JB shows match sheet with Gorgo’s name on it, then Reggie and T put two together.
“So, you really want to fuck up the main event here later on?”
“Oh nah, James can handle himself… plus, what do we gain on messin with some cult leader, fitness influencer and disgraced boxer turned wrestler?”
Then JB pulls out a cigar, and lits it up on the match sheet with the name on it, and puffs up some smoke in the air. Then some time passes, and JB and T and Reggie were playing game of pool in the compound, then after a few rounds, JB racks up the balls. Then one of the staff personnel informs JB to meet some political man, named Duke Calloway in an office space with the door closed.
“So you must be Johnathan Blackstone?”
“Yeah, who are you?”
“Duke Calloway, a republican man who wants to know why you are in the compound today?”
Duke lights his cigar and blows it in JB’s direction.
“I'm here for a match”
“A match?...oh that wrestling thing, right right… well, i was thinking if you leave the compound and let two white people wrestle for the title…it’ll be worth a while.”
“Whoa wait a minute, you tell me to back off this match…man, sir that anit happenin… I came all the way down to Coreytopia to reclaim a belt that i held shaped into its rebellious image. So imma just say, fuck that offer… and im out of here!”
JB then walked out the office, as Duke looked on with a smug look on his face. Then we see a portrait of Summer and Justin York by his desk, and we see JB alone outside the yard near where the ring crew were setting up the ring itself. Then he decides to speak on his phone.
“Alright, i don’t know who or what caused that person to have me throw the match, but that anit happening, i don’t know what dolly did or done to make some outsider try to gank me. You see, i anit the one for the gankin or jackin for any reason, and this match is my way of proving what it means to be a revolutionary soulja for the people. I am doing this for the freedom fighters, the ones who are treated poorly in a broken system. Everyday, with how the world is going, i sit back and think to myself “how is the world gonna save itself from its own mess?”; shit look at the ones being deported, to people who are struggling. Shit, i bet the ring crew who work on the clock are feelin the heat as they put that ring on the ground.
As i stand and watch, it gives me that sense of trust and unity i have for them, and what i will promise is that even if i don’t win the belt tonight, and even not get me or the thugs hands dirty in the main event, I will make sure that i keep my fist held high as i walk out of Coreytopia’s May Day event; this might be something to be hold for a man like me. Because I will go all out in that match, the outsiders would be shocked at what I can do.
Consider this as my new revolution that will not be televised or homogenized.”
Then JB aims his camera at the ring crew, and we see him partaking in assisting with the ring being fixed up as the scene shifts elsewhere on the compound.
“Spoiled” Summer Page is sitting in a chair getting her hair and makeup done. While the ladies are talking they hear a booming voice coming from down the hall. The two ladies look at each other with a confused and somewhat concerned look on their faces.
“Spoiled” Summer Page:What the hell is going on, Veronica?
Veronica:I don’t know!
Veronica stops applying the makeup onto Summer. She walks over to the door and peaks out of the door. Veronica stops looking down the hall and then looks back at Summer.
Veronica:I’m not sure you want to know.
“Spoiled” Summer Page:Why? What’s wrong?
Before Veronica could respond, the voice they heard gets closer and closer, Summer’s expression starts to change as she immediately recognizes who it is. The ladies give each other a look before the door swings open - James Shark can be seen standing there with his XWF Universal Championship in hand and a huge smirk on his face, the crowd in the arena reacts with cheers.
Shark: They told me a little cutie patootie was back here. Ain’t nothinnnnnnn’ but Summer babyyy, what’s good y’all?
Shark greets Summer’s glam team with half hugs but both of them do not hug him back and just seem annoyed that he is even touching them. He ignores their reactions and looks at Summer.
Shark: You get my flowers!??
“Spoiled” Summer Page:I did and I donated them to the closest cemetery so mourners can take them to their loved ones…They certainly appreciate that and I appreciate the tax write off…
Summer smiles devilishly. Shark’s smile instantly wipes off and he’s immediately frowning. He slowly tilts his head to the side, a bit confused.
Shark: Um… Summer.. Respectfully… What the fuck is your problem?
He turns his attention towards Veronica who had her hand over her mouth trying not to laugh at what Summer just said.
Shark: Does she treat all her friends like this!?
“Spoiled” Summer Page:Just the ones that try to sleep with me even though I’ve told them several times that I’m marrying someone else.
Shark: I’m just tryna show you how special you is. Everyone know it’s more than Craig BARFton do. That dork only shines on Wednesday morning when it’s time to call you a crush. I see he ain’t attached to your leg right now, where did the lil errand boy run off to anyways? Gettin’ you a glass of water or something?
Shark shakes his head and throws his Championship over his shoulder.
Shark: Whatever, I ain’t come here to argue. Principle said we can have our locker room whenever we want long as it’s all water under the bridge with me and him. I’m thinking next show. You ready to do this or what?
“Spoiled” Summer Page: It’s the locker room I wanted?
Shark grits his teeth. He takes a deep breath in then exhales. As if trying to hold back his frustration.
Shark: Yes. Our beautiful locker room will have a stupid fuckin’ wall with a little room for you to hang out in when you don’t feel like hanging out with Daddy James, but when you come to your senses we puttin’ a sledgehammer through that hoe.
He forces a big smile as Summer smiles from ear to ear. She then looks over at Veronica and winks at her before turning her attention back to Shark.
“Spoiled” Summer Page:You wonder if I’m enjoying messing with you? The answer is yes. Now was that so difficult, Shark? Because I know you’d never go back on your word when you told me this is about business and not trying to sleep with me, right?
Shark chuckles and takes a step closer to her, the smirk he had on his face when he entered the room now returning.
Shark: Don’t be puttin’ words in my mouth Summer, ain’t no one say it can be about BOTH. You can play hard to get all you want about US but at the end of the day ain’t nothing mean more to me in this world then getting wins and putting Championships around my waist and that’s what I plan on doing when we team up.
“Spoiled” Summer Page: Just focus on tonight. We both have championship matches and I know from personal experience that Gorgo is no slouch in that ring.
Shark: Gorgo is goin’ to eat my elbow, Summer. You better handle business out there though. The revolution Championship on your shoulder, The Universal on mine, and the Tag titles around our waist from both brands. Unstoppable. I’ll call you later tonight.
Shark looks her up and down while biting his lips before giving her a wink and walking off. Veronica looks at Summer.
Veronica:He is nothing if not persistent…
“Spoiled” Summer Page:That’s one word for it.
RING ANNOUNCER: INTROOODUUUUCINGGGG The One, The Only. He hails from TOOOROOONTOOO ONTARIOOOO CANADAAAAA, KING JUUUUUSTIIINNN YOOOOOORK!
Nothing else matters by Metallica begins to play as all the spotlights at the top of the stage go completely dark and stay dark for a solid minute before a teal colored spotlight finally hits the top of the stage revealing a man in a skull mask that has a maple leaf on it.
The crowd begins to boo instantaneously.
TD: Justin York, the owner of Pro Wrestling Valor and the new XWF Revolution champion. Matthias Syn had held that belt for two-thirds of its entire existence, over double the length of all other Revolution champions combined. And it took “King” Justin York to dethrone Syn and take the belt for himself.
GoED: Destroy the King, Save the Man.
TD: Strong words, fella. And one’s shared by the fans here today. I think a lot of syndicalist hippies and freakniks don’t like how York ended Syn’s reign… By pinning the third competitor in the match and by strategically exiting at the ring and letting his opponents wear each other down. Syn hit his finish, but York claimed the victory.
GoED: Kings will always reap where they do not sow, exploiting the laborer.
TD: Hey, York reaped himself a title. Don’t be a hater, Gene.
Justin York spreads his arms revealing the Pro Wrestling Valor banner that adorns his body. He rips the mask off and throws the banner into the crowd which quickly gets thrown back to him.
A figure in a teal garb comes out before he heads down the ramp and hands a briefcase to JY. York takes the briefcase in his left hand and his Revolution title around his waist and walks down the ramp way, taunting fans on his way. Once he reaches the ring he rolls inside and poses on the ropes while teal fireworks and pyro go off behind him into the sky.
York unbuckles the title off his waist and tosses it to the timekeeper and demands a microphone which he is handed. He keeps the briefcase in hand.
JY- Cut the fucking music.
The music cuts abruptly. The lights in the ring dim and a teal spotlight looks over JY.
JY- Well.. Well.. well.. your new champion stands before you just as I said. Maybe now you brainless fucks will listen to what I tell you. Who am I trying to kid, there’s nothing between your ears but air and opportunity.
York saunters around the ring with a smirk on his face as the fans boo relentlessly.
JY- Enough about you idiots though, let’s get to the real reason I’m here before I defend my title against two undeserving “talents” if that’s what you wish to refer to them as. THADDEUS DUKE!
GoED: Is there anything Thaddeus Duke in your organization, or is he talking about you?
TD: ...
The fans cheer at the mention of Thad.
JY- This little dance of ours has been going on for far too long. I’ll do something to get under your skin and you’ll hide away and pretend that you’re too busy to pay attention until I push the envelope too far and draw a response out of you.
JY- You are the COO of the company and you act as if Anarchy is inferior to Warfare. You pay it no mind, no respect. Everyone stood idly by and accepted that disrespect. I WONT STAND FOR IT, THIS IS MY FUCKING BRAND NOW AND IT COMMANDS RESPECT.. Now sit back behind those fucking castle walls and watch as I defend the honor of THE brand in the XWF you fucking infant. OH one more thing..
York opens the briefcase and reveals the custom Revolution title he had made.
JY- That title was outdated as fuck and so I had one made that is befitting a king and holds some prestige, with Valor’s initials on it, it’s more important than it’s ever been. See you real soon.
York throws the microphone out of the ring and leans against the turnbuckles with his custom made revolution title over his shoulder and awaits his opponents.
S&M By Rhianna will play throughout the arena as the crowd cheers while Summer walks down the aisle. Summer gets to the ring side and walks up the ring stairs. Summer looks out at the crowd and raises her arms out to the crowd as the crowd cheers louder.
TD: Summer Page is one of the most dominant stars to ever grace the Anarchy brand. She’s beaten just about all-comers, she’s climbed her way to the top of Thursday nights… But there’s one thing that’s evaded her and that’s a title reign.
ED: The boss uses titles to trick the worker out of their rightful mindset. Titles are a poison.
TD: Ugh, bet you’re fun at parties. Regardless, Summer’s 0-for-5 in title matches, but compare that to an undefeated TEN-and-OH record in non-title matches! Undefeated since her debut in July of last year! There’s a reason she keeps getting these title shots, and it’s because she’s been unbeatable… when a belt’s not on the line.
GoED: The workers toil long and miserable hours under the trampling foot of industry. But eventually the promised land will be opened unto those that embrace it.
TD: For the record, Gene, cool it with the worker stuff. Summer’s a killer in the ring, but she’s still the daughter of a billionaire.
GoED: ...Hmm. Retracted.
Summer turns her attention to inside the ring where she motions to the referee to open the bottom and middle ropes so they can enter. Summer walks over to the closest ring corner and climbs up to the middle turnbuckle.
We see the X-Tron come to life, and we see "John Black" name shot up with the .38 special, and we see him at the stage in a black and white setting as he is standing there taking in the mixed reactions.
TD: Speaking of the Revolution title, John Black is the only man to ever hold the Revolution belt twice. He and the THUGs and much more your style, Gene. All they do is complain about management and promise big things that won’t come.
GoED: Hmmm, well-played.
TD: I’m gonna get you to give me something back before tonight’s out… Regardless, John Black is at his most dangerous when he’s underestimated. Can he become the only three-time Revolution champion in XWF history tonight?
Then he walks down to the ramp, and he gives them some high fives, then he climbs on the steel steps and enters the ring, and he raises his fist in the air as he pounds his chest around the ring as his theme cuts off.
As the bell rings, the three competitors remain in their starting corners…
TD: Mexican standoff here, all competitors looking to see who jumps first…
John Black's jaw clenches, eyes locked on Justin York like a predator clocking prey. York sneers at Black, like ‘the fuck YOU looking at…’
Page’s eyes alternate between York and Black, trying to assess the vibes between these two fiery opponents…
Black paces forward with heavy shoulders and flexed fists, the chip on his shoulder nearly visible in the heatwaves… He barks some fury at York.
TD: Here we go! Black clearly calling for the King’s crown!
Black charges.
…Right at Summer Page!
TD: Whoa! No solidarity between non-champions tonight!
GoED: Tragic that the non-kings battle each other rather than their oppressor.
Summer Page’s brows furrow, her mouth parting in surprise, as Black charges her from his corner…
Black aims a running boot, looking to decapitate the Spoiled One!
…But Page ducks under the blow, somersaulting to Black’s corner! Black’s foot lands against the turnbuckle!
TD: Incredible quickness on display by Summer Page!
GoED: The gears of progress grind slowly, but I hope one day it moves as fast as that young lady in the ring!
With Black’s back to the action, York can’t spring fast enough from his corner, looking to exploit Black’s window of vulnerability… York snaps out of his corner, and goes to secure a waistlock…
BAM! Running entirely on instinct and reflex, John Black unleashes a Ron Artest style elbow that DROPS York flat on his back!
TD: Wow! John Black has been in the XWF for over a decade and it’s moves like that that have kept him around all these years!
York rolls backwards off the blow, entering a crouching position. He rubs his jaw… disbelief painted across his face—he wasn’t ready for that kind of intensity this early.
GoED: It appears as if the man calling himself King was ill-prepared for a bit of combat from a ‘commoner’!
TD: If he wasn’t ready for Black, he better look out for Summer!
Indeed, Summer Page launches herself forward into a sprint out from the corner.. York’s eyes widen. Her lips are pursed with focus, eyes laser-locked on…
The back of Black’s head!
TD: Turnabout is fair play! Page ready to give Black back some business for starting the matchout attacking her!
Black spins around in the corner, as Page plants a foot on the mat…
She leaps!
Black’s hands surge forward to block Page’s forward path…
But they miss!
DROPKICK TO THE FACE! The back of Black’s skull ROCKS against the turnbuckle! He drops to one knee! Black drops to a knee, planting a palm on the mat to stabilize…
TD: Wow! What a strike!
GoED: The strike is one of the few tools the laborer has against the oligarchs.
TD: …Huh. I thought that strikes in that context meant ‘work stoppages’.
GoED: It can be both!
Black, clearly of the mind that the best defense is MORE offense, shoves himself off the mat toward the Spoiled One, swinging a wild haymaker to take her off her feet…
…
But Summer ducks, her hair whipping as she spins out of reach.
TD: Summer Page is just too fast!
Black rotates around, before coming face-to-face with Page… Who places her hands on Black’s shoulders…
And leaps to mount them!
SNAP HURRICANRANA!
GoED: Jee hosephat! I’ve never seen a move like that in my time!
TD: Ohhh… you an old-school wrestling fan, Gene?
GoED: One could say that. The last public combat exhibitions I watched were from the 1920s…
TD: … Oh gross, you’re like the ultimate wrestling hipster.
Black’s body flips, crashing awkwardly onto his back. His head hits with a sharp whack, and his jaw clenches, eyes fluttering for a split second…. But Summer marvelously remains mounted, wrapping her arms around his legs, pressing his shoulders against the mat!
The official drops to count!
1!
York catches himself watching the action and shoves off the mat!
2!
York closes the distance!
THR-NO!
WHAM! York drops a boot square onto the back of Page’s neck, dropping her to the mat!
TD: Another split-second and Page might’ve won her first title in record time! But, the Ring King, Justin York isn’t gonna let his belt go like that!
Page drops onto her face, cradling her neck after that precise strike onto her vertebrae…
But York doesn’t waste a moment, he grabs Summer by her long, flowing hair and tears her off the mat! She tries to shove her way out of his grip, as he reels back his arm…
WHAM! KNIFE EDGE CHOP!
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
The smack echoes like a gunshot as the crowd hoops and hollers!
Page’s arms cradle her aching chest as she sucks in air from that vicious strike… York grins sadistically as he hooks Page into a front-facelock…
And hurtles Summer through the air!
SNAP SUPLEX!
GoED: York tosses Page like one day the workers will hopefully toss away their shackles!
Summer’s back hits the mat HARD, the jolt forcing her to arch off the canvas, arms reaching behind to grab at her lower back. Page rolls away, hissing.
York pops up and spreads his arms wide, chest heaving.
The crowd drowns him in jeers. York cups a hand to his ear, laughing at their hate like it’s fuel.
TD: Despite remaining in the ring this time, the “King” is making no fans of his people tonight!
But, as York taunts the hippies and freakniks of Coreytopia… Suddenly, their boos turns to cheers. York’s brow furrows in perplexment… as he slowly turns around…
INTO THE ARMS OF JOHN BLACK!
York is caught in the air
And spun throught it in JB’s arms!
SNAP POWERSLAM!
York’s body SLAMS into the canvas, a heavy, jarring impact that sends a ripple through his frame. His whole face contorts in agony…
Black extends his arm, looking to pull York to the center of the ring for a pin att-
York swats Black’s hand away… before pulling himself out of the ring by the ropes and rolling to the outside!
TD: Oh! We saw this last time, Gene! York is a master of knowing when to attack *and* knowing when to retreat! York makes a calculated exit to leave his opponents to duke it out!
GoED: Despicable. I would rather a thousand times be a man pinned in defeat than to be a sycophant and coward in the ring.”
TD: That’s probably why York’s the Revolution champion and you’re a… what, homeless art history professor?
…York rolls out to the outside, before taking a breath of relief… He smugly leans back against the barricade, eyeing Black, daring him to come after him…
Black starts to dip his head through the ropes, but Summer Page…
TD: Here we go! Once again, York’s opponents weaken each other!
Page holds him back, before gesturing… behind York?
…York peers perplexedly, before turning around…
And seeing a SEA of furious wrestling fans charging up to the barricade!
TD: Whoa! Security! These fans aren’t signed to contracts!
Security moves to hold back the surge of fans headed for York! A couple try to shove their way through the barricades, trying to force him back into the ring, like amateur lumberjacks!
From the crowd of angry fans, one sign raises up, reading FIGHT BACK OR GET OUT!
TD: These fans are making it known that they are not going to just sit back and watch York just sit back and watch!
GoED: People power!
York sneers furiously… Before deciding he’s probably safer in the ring than out of it… He slides back inside.
Where Summer and Black are waiting.
…
York grins, in a friendlier fashion than the angry smirk he started with… He nods at Page, gesturing at Black, inquiring about teaming up to weaken him..
…
When Page doesn’t leap at the offer, York does the exact same gesture, inviting Black for a team-up to beat down Summmer.
GoED: Kings have no allegiances, save to themselves.
Summer and Black share a glance. For once, they don’t need words.
DOUBLE BOOT TO THE CHAMP’S GUT!
The crowd surges to their feet as Page and Black back York up to the ropes…
Double irish whip… York bounds across the ring…
Bounces off the ropes!
Straight into Page and Black… Who send him SKY-HIGH with a tandem back body drop!
He lands flat. Spine. Chest. Jaw. The air leaves his lungs in a single wheeze. He doesn’t move.
The crowd erupts!
TD: For the first time tonight, York’s crown looks cracked!
GoED: Title Challengers of the World Unite!
York crawls across the mat to the corner of the ring…
Page goes to grapple York, to keep the offense going on h-
WHAM! From the back, John Black hits her with an ear clap from behind that drops Page flat on her face!
TD: That burst of teamwork might’ve made Page forget that triple-threat means every man for himself!
Page got her marbles scrambled from Black’s blitzkrieg attack, which draws boos from the crowd… Black shrugs, like ‘hey, just doing my job’...
TD: Black loves the fans, but the fans don’t love that underhanded tactic.
GoED: Be true to yourself and you cannot be a traitor to any good cause on earth.
Black scoops Page off the mat, before scooping her onto his shoulders for the Blacklisted! Death Valley Driver!
TD: This could be it! John Black could become a three-time Revolution champion!
Black goes to toss Page over his shoulder… BLACKLIS-
…
NO! Page lands on her feet! Black’s expression is one of astonishment as Page slips behind him…
She leaps, clinching onto Black’s neck!
SPOILED ROTTEN! BACKSTABBER!
TD: YES! Summer Page hits the Spoiled Rotten! She could be on the verge of her first championship win!
GoED: Finally, the laborer’s dream comes true!
TD: Yes, finally, something good happens to a billionaire’s child. Score one for them!
The crowd is on their feet, as Page exhaustedly crawls across the mat, trying to cover Bl-
WHAM! York slides out of the corner and boots Page in the face!
She rolls under the bottom rope to the outside!
TD: It looks like a rerun! York is about to swoop in, this time as champion!
York pins Black!
The official drops to count!
1!
Page pulls herself up by the apron!
2!
Page slides back i-
THREE!
WINNER AND STILL XWF REVOLUTION CHAMPION: “KING” JUSTIN YORK
The crowd erupts in fury and anger as York leans back with a cocky sneer, taunting the displeased crowd as he lifts the belt over his head!
TD: Once more, “King” Justin York uses his veteran prowess and ring awareness. That’s why he’s the Revolution champion!
GoED: He can’t keep getting away with this!
TD: Folks, I had our stats guys run the numbers on this match.
GoED: You have a man of statistic among your number?
TD: A couple. Mark Flynn and ELO. They checked independently and verified that these two competitors have met FOUR times in the past! And they’re both 2-and-2 against each other! Which makes this one worth ALL the bragging rights!
The stadium spotlights rush up toward the ceiling and Waters appears under the XTron. She marches to the beat of Ode To Joy, the crowd roaring, her gaze set squarely on the squared circle.
TD: Dolly Waters! The Pride and Joy of the world-famous Waters wrestling dynasty! She beat Isaiah on February 11th, 2023 on Warfare… AND as Misty Waters, she beat ‘Prince Adeyemi’ at this past year’s Relentless Day One!
She climbs through the ropes and takes the center of the ring. Raising a single fist into the air.
…
The stadium goes dark as the opening riff of Motorhead’s “King of Kings” shakes the air. Golden spotlights cut through swirling smoke, revealing Prince Adeyemi, draped in a fur cloak and crowned in gold. His every step is deliberate as he commands the stage, framed by a crimson-lit crest bearing an emblem: A cracked crown.
He pauses at the ramp’s peak, arms outstretched, radiating authority. In his hand is a golden scepter shaped like a battle axe, a symbol of conquest. The crowd erupts in a mix of cheers and jeers as he marches down the ramp, eyes fixed on the ring.
TD: Prince Adeyemi… er, sorry, Isaiah King (again)... is a head-hunter in the XWF! He has found a way to claim victories over the some of the biggest stars to ever grace the squared circle: Corey Smith! Sebastian Everett-Bryce! AND he has two victories over Dolly Waters! On April 8th, 2023, Isaiah beat Dolly AND on March 9th, 2024, Prince Adeyemi claimed a victory over Dolly Waters as well!
GoED: Your math is consistent. Two for each.
TD: And you gotta imagine both these two are hungry to break the tie in their favor, Mean Gene! Can Dolly hold serve on her home turf, Coreytopia? Or will the TWO-time Universal champion find a way to embarrass Dolly in front of her home crowd!
Ascending the steps, Adeyemi sheds his cloak, revealing a warrior’s frame. Standing in the center of the ring, he raises the scepter toward the crowd.
As the music fades, his cold, steely gaze says it all: Prince Adeyemi has come to rule.
ISAIAH KING
- vs -
DOLLY WATERS Singles
The moment the bell rings, King is already on the move, ducking to the mat and going to sweep Dolly off her feet.
She leaps into the air gracefully… Looking to back handspring…
But King starfish kicks, taking her hand out, Dolly lands on her face!
TD: Quite a counter to… Dolly’s counter! Very reminiscent of their last match at Relentless! Mean Gene, these two competitors have wrestled one-on-one four times in the XWF and they’ve completely split wins and losses.
…Dolly shoves herself off the mat, legs firing like pistons as she races across the ring. She launches into a shotgun dropkick, both boots slamming toward Isaiah King’s chest with surgical velocity!
But King’s eyes are already locked on her—he pivots, catching her legs in midair like he’s plucking a wasp from the wind. Dolly hits the canvas hard, spine-first, but she doesn’t even grunt.
TD: First two clashes of the match both go Isaiah’s way! Dolly’s going to have to retool if she wants to stop playing into the two-time Universal champion’s hands…
Isaiah grasps Dolly HARD by her hair… and shoves her skull between his legs…
Isaiah goes to lift Waters up into a powerbomb…
But she tucks and twists mid-lift, slipping through his grip and landing on her feet to Isaiah’s side like a gymnast dismounting! On the way down, she grasps his wrist!
ARM DRAG! King siderolls disorientingly into the corner as Dolly kips up back to her feet!
The crowd goes wild for both these competitors!
TD: An absolutely magnificent counter by Dolly. If King thought he was going to bully his way to a victory, he doesn’t know Dolly as well as he might think!
Isaiah rolls back onto his feet, refusing to give Dolly a second of recovery! He steps into Dolly’s radius, throwing a lightning-fast piston to the jaw!
… But Dolly sways under it, letting the punch whistle past her ear!
As King’s fist swings by her face, she rotates on one heel, looking for spinning mule kick toward Isaiah’s ribs!
…NO! But Isaiah’s other hand manages catch her ankle before impact, halting her momentum cold!
GoED: Say, Thaddeus, is this event choreographed? These two both move like they know exactly what the other will do!
TD: If I know these two, they both spent the weeks leading up to this match going frame-by-frame through every single prior encounter they’ve had with each other. Something about rubber matches brings out the fiercest competition! And this is the rubber match of their LAST rubber match!
Dolly hops on one foot, as King drags her by the leg toward the center of the ring…
Dolly’s face is tense, calculating how to escape, as King snarls confidently, having the smallest window of opportunity on this opponent.
Suddenly, King yanks Dolly toward him—pulling her off-balance! King winds up! Clothesline!
…NO! Dolly ducks under it! King’s arm goes over as Dolly sprints, her momentum carrying her into the ropes!
Waters springs back as King turns to watch her… She throws a heel kick aimed for his skull…
…But King sways back just in time! Her heel sails just inches from the nose of the King of Orun!
GoED: Thaddeus, do the Orunian people have eyes in the back of their head? How did King see that kick coming with his back to Miss Waters?
TD: Instinct.
Dolly rolls through the missed kick to regain her footing, as King spins toward his opponent…
The crowd is absolutely electric, screaming on their feet.
FIGHT FOREVER! *clap clap clapclapclap*
TD: I genuinely believe this crowd would watch these two do battle until the end of time. Frankly, me too.
GoED: As long as they got work breaks per Union guidelines, me three!
…They both… pause… Both staring intently at their opponent. Both analyzing the other for a weakness, for an opening….
Isaiah must think he found one first, as he opens the next sequence. He steps in close to olly and fires a jab combo—A pair of measured left jabs!
Dolly forces her right in front of her face… She blocks the first… And the second! But, her feet stagger backwards to keep her guard up!
TD: Dolly is floating like a butterfly, guarding against King’s punches. But, I tell you now, she does NOT want to let this devolve into a boxing match! She’d be playing right into King’s hands….
King launches another left into Dolly’s guard… Dolly senses she’s getting backed into the corner.
Another King left… that Dolly shoves to the side! She reels back her fist for a counter!
But King’s right swings across her chin! Her head jerks backwards against the corner turnbuckle!
TD: Oh shit! Beautiful strike by Ki-
When Dolly’s back rebounds off the turnbuckle, she shoves herself off and launches a rib shot straight to King’s jejunum!
TD: Wow! Dolly’s been fighting and scrapping since she was trained as a child in Grandma Misty’s trailer! It’s easy to forget just how many shots to the face she’s taken and powered through!
King, for the first time this match, looks surprised at Dolly’s hardiness as she keeps firing lefts and rights straight into his abs… each one thudding against the hard slab of muscle like hail on a steel drum.
TD: Four punches… Five punches from Waters to King! King’s getting beat!
GoED: No, Thaddeus! He’s getting used to it!
Indeed, each strike seems like it shocks a little less of King’s system! Dolly senses Isaiah’s stance getting firmer, and tries to take a swing at his face!
…But King slips his head back! Dolly’s hand swishes past his face… And King steps forward into Dolly’s guard…
Catching Waters with a SUDDEN, SHARP liver shot! A punishing left hook just under her ribs!
The air flies from her lungs with a choked gasp, and her knees buckle…
TD: Devastating shot there from King! That might get a warning in a boxing ring, but here, it’s fair play.
As Dolly seems to double-over, King steps up, looking for a knockout blow…
BUT NO! Dolly drives her head forward, arms wrapping King in a clinch, and delivers three uppercuts to his gut, each one snapping his abs inward, knocking the wind from his lungs now!
GoED: My word! The young lady refuses to give her opponent even a second of feeling like he’s not fighting for his life!
TD: If you’re surprised, you don’t know Dolly.
Isaiah’s face contorts in frustration… Dolly tries to deliver another gut punch…
But King clinches Dolly in close, dragging her into the corner and burying a knee into her ribs!
Then another! Each blow lifts her a few inches off the mat. Waters’ body wracks with each impact, mouth open, jaw slack from the pain…
TD: Dolly’s gotta do something here… King’s got her cornered!
King takes two steps back to punt the life out of Dolly…
But when King steps back, Dolly steps forward! Waters suddenly drives an elbow into the side of his head!
King hits the mat and Dolly exhaustedly collapses backward into the corner!
TD: These two are genuinely using every scrap of fuel they have in their tanks just to keep their opponent from developing a shred of momentum!
King tries to shove himself back to his feet… But Dolly spins out of the corner and handstand flips…
Into a knee drop! Waters’ shin crashing down across his bicep.
TD: Brilliant move by Dolly! Isaiah can’t throw those devastating strike combos if he can;t lift his arm!
Isaiah jerks his arm back, his face ripples with agony as pain shoots from shoulder to elbow.
…Dolly senses that she’s got the steering wheel and she’s looking to get her car across the finish line while she has it…
Waters mounts the fallen King, firing off a barrage of palm strikes to the face—quick, slapping blows that rattle his skull...
From his back, Isaiah blocks the first… parries away the second… but the third, fourth, and fifth manage to crack across his jaw, leaving red marks blooming under his eye!
TD: Now Isaiah’s the one that has to figure out a counter!
Dolly somersaults backwards into the corner… As King shakes off cobwebs, slowly peeling himself off the mat…
Dolly charges in! Looking to finish this!
RUNNING WATERS!
…
IS COUNTERED!
Isaiah surges up! As Dolly’s knee goes to lift, Isaiah wraps his arms around her waist and clumsily slams her backward into the mat!
TD: They don’t teach that move in wrestling school! Isaiah had to pull that out from the school of hard knocks!
With Dolly on her back, King tries to transition to a full mount…
But Dolly scrambles, twisting beneath him, legs kicking, hands clawing for leverage!
…NO! King holds on like a fisherman keeping the big one from hopping out of the boat! She can’t shake free…
Desperately, Dolly goes for the eyes… not a rake, but a jab under the orbital bone! King flinches and both roll backwards to opposite sides of the ring.
TD: Oh my God, how is this fight so chaotic!
GoED: Your world is one of control, young Thaddeus. One of precision. These two wage battle in the natural world, where chaos IS order.
Waters and King both push off, gasping, dragging themselves to standing like two wounded animals too proud to limp.
Then… they see each other. And there’s no hesitation!
Dolly explodes forward, sprinting in with a snarl. Isaiah steps into her path like a freight train.
Dolly’s leg sails through the air… RUNNING WATERS…
Just as King finishing discus-ing his body, his elbow surging forward… ROYAL VERDICT.
…
……
BOTH CONNECT!
Dolly’s knee cracks into the side of King’s temple!
King’s elbow drives into the base of Dolly’s jaw!
Both bodies go limp mid-motion! They spin from the simultaneous impact, collapsing side-by-side in a heap of tangled limbs and shared agony!
The ring shakes. The crowd explodes!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHI!
And the referee drops to a knee, hand raised to count.
1! 2!
Neither wrestler stirs. Both lie sprawled on the mat, still and breathless, the echo of their simultaneous strikes still hanging in the air.
3! 4!
TD: Look, I’m begging one of these to get up! If this one ends in a draw, this crowd is going to riot!
5! 6!
Isaiah King’s fingers twitch. A grunt of effort hisses through clenched teeth as he rolls to his side, face slick with sweat and red from strikes. His chest heaves—each breath a battle in itself.
7! 8!
Dolly Waters drags herself to her knees, gripping the bottom rope with shaking fingers. Her jaw hangs slightly ajar, blood on her lower lip, her left eye beginning to swell shut. She blinks through the pain.
9!
Simultaneousl, both wrestlers rise. Not in triumph—but defiance! Dolly pulls herself up with the ropes, boots barely under her. Isaiah plants his feet wide, fists trembling, every muscle in his body screaming.
The crowd goes absolutely bananas! Efforts are made to cheer both competitors’ names, but there’s so much electricity in the air, it turns into pure, non-verbal elation for the action in that ring.
The competitors lock eyes—and for the first time tonight, there’s no fury between them. No hatred.
Just respect.
TD: Something might’ve changed over the course of this match, Mean Gene! When we started this one between Dolly and Isaiah, it was all business. Now? I think these two have a newfound respect for each other!
GoED: The laborers bleed together. The workers must rise together!
The moment of peace passes, though. The competitors charge again, this time with nothing left but instinct and resolve.
Dolly fires the first shot—OPEN-HAND PALM STRIKE! Isaiah’s jaw gets smacked sideways!
Isaiah answers–THUNDEROUS GUT SHOT!
Dolly stumbles onto one knee… King advances.
But she shoves herself upright–SPINNING BACKFIST! King gets staggered!
Dolly charges in… But King catches her! FRONT KICK TO THE HIGH!
Dolly’s legs turn to jelly as she falls to her knees…
Isaiah tries to leap in for a knockout p-
Dolly from the mat swings her legs! Calf Kick! King drops onto his back!
GoED: These two seem to have abandoned their earlier game of counter-for-counter, Thaddeus!
TD: No more counters. No more finesse. At this point, this one’s gonna get decided purely by grit.
…The referee doesn’t start another ten-count… As King and Dolly both slowly pull themselves back upright…
Isaiah roars! He surfs forward with a lunging elbow! Dolly sputters backwards, the only thing keeping her from collapsing is the fact that her elbows hook around the ropes behind her!
King backs up against the ropes… He winds up, spinning as he runs…
ROYAL VERDICT!
…
NO!
Dolly ducks, slipping beneath the arm at the last possible moment! Waters rebounds off the ropes, timing her steps perfectly… As King spins around…
ODE TO JOY!
…
NO!
Isaiah catches her mid-air, arms locking around her torso—and he slams her to the mat face-first with brutal force!
GoED: What do you call THAT maneuver, Thaddeus!
TD: I don’t think they have a name for that one, Mean Gene. That move is just pure aggression coming out!
The ring rattles under the impact. Dolly lies still, face buried in the canvas.
…King exhales, shaking his head, ready to end this…
King yanks her upright… noticeably not by the hair this time… and whips her into the ropes!
TD: Oh! He’s going for the King’s Wrath!
Dolly is sent hurtling across the ring! She bounces off the ropes!
Isaiah propels her up into the air!
KING’S WRATH! (Pop-up Powerbomb)
…
IS COUNTERED!
Dolly twists mid-lift and fires off a dropkick to Isaiah’s face! Both heels slam flush against his jaw!
The impact knocks him back hard into the turnbuckles—neck snapping back against the padding.
The crowd is screaming, absolutely electric! They sense that both these two are mentally sharp to counter anything that the other one can throw! But they can also sense one of these competitors’ bodies is about to give out!
Dolly exhaustedly stumbles to her feet, eyes locking on her target… King is drenched in sweat, leaning against the turnbuckle for support!
TD: King might be in no man’s land here! Which is right where Dolly wants him!
Dolly, with the last ounce of gas in her tank, breaks into a sprint at King! She leaps, aiming her knee to punch THROUGH King’s face!
RUNNING WATERS!
…
KING DUCKS!
Dolly’s momentum carries her forward—her desperate strike ends with her legs tangled in the ropes! She ends up tangled upside down in the Tree of Woe!
TD: NO! …Dolly went from total control to in serious trouble here!
Isaiah doesn’t waste a second. He unleashes a flurry of kicks—vicious, unrelenting, surgical. Each one thuds into Dolly’s ribs, her chest, her abdomen. She groans, trapped, unable to defend herself!
TD: *exahle*...King absolutely trying to stomp the last bit of life Dolly has in her body! This one is NOT looking good for Waters!
…Isaiah draws his thumb across his throat as the crowd goes wild!
Isaiah lifts her free—muscles shaking—and sets her up on the top turnbuckle, back facing the ring.
He climbs with her… Looking for the kill.
TD: …Oh my. King is not letting Dolly keep fighting. He’s deciding he’s ending this now! With a King’s Decree from the top rope!
He locks her head in a front facelock!
He launches himself backwards!
TOP-ROPE KING’S DECREE!
…
……
NOOOOOOOOO!
Dolly grabs the top rope with both hands!
King falls! But Waters holds first!
Isaiah crashes onto the mat—spine-first, all the force of the failed move echoing up his back. His legs kick up from the shock of impact before he flattens out.
TD: YES!
…
TD: Uh… great counter by Waters!
And Dolly? DOES NOT HESITATE!
She pulls herself up, stands tall on the top turnbuckle—her body swaying like a flame in the wind—and then launches with every ounce of her weight!
SUPER!
DIVING!
ELBOW!
…
……
………
CONNECTS!
Waters’ elbow smashes into Isaiah’s sternum with a sound like a tree branch snapping!!!
King’s whole body bucks from the blow before slumping still.
Dolly hooks the leg! As the crowd of one million people counts with the ref!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER: DOLLY WATERS
The crowd bursts into absolute hysteria, cheering and screaming for Waters!
Dolly rolls off King after the three-count. Both competitors lie on the ground, chests heaving exhausted… If you’d just tuned in, you’d have no idea who won and who lost…
TD: An absolute barn-burner of a match between two very game competitors! Isaiah King showed why he is one of the only men to ever hold the Universal title multiple times! But Dolly Waters, the absolute veteran she is, pulled out every single stop she could! She struck when the iron was hot! And tonight, she walks away the clear winner!
As the crowd goes nuts…
Dolly and King both work their way to their feet…
…The crowd goes quiet as the two exhausted competitors make eye contact…
…
TD: Awkward.
…
Waters cradles her gut with her left…
Before extending a hand..
…
King’s nostrils flare.
…
But he accepts the handshake!
And the crowd erupts!
TD: Well, that’s nice! A show of respect between long-time adversaries!
GoED: Your fellow man is no true adversary! Our only opponent as men are the structures built by our oppressors, designed to trick us into believing we must fight one another! Good on these two young people for seeing past that!
TD: Well, they leave on friendly terms tonight! But, you have to imagine King will be looking to even the score next time they meet! And that’ll settle up the Rubber Match of their Rubber Match of their Rubber Match!
The lights in the arena go deep blue as smoke fills the air. Pink and silver laser lights cut through the smoke and it looks fucking rad.
Thaddeus Duke: And here comes the biggest bastard of them all, Bobby Bourbon himself! The man, the myth, the absolute wrecking ball- and he's here tonight to put on a show.
Ghost of Joseph Stalin: Привет! Bobby Bourbon is one of the finest bastards to ever walk the earth, and I know a thing or two about bastards! Xa xa xa!
Thaddeus Duke: Wait, what the fuck? Are you kidding me? Are you serious right now- now we got Joseph Stalin? Where’s Mean Gene?
Ghost of Joseph Stalin: I specifically REQUESTED this match, because Bobby Bourbon is my brotherly bastard, and I wanted to witness this glorious victory for myself!
Thaddeus Duke: Lord help me.
[whiteGhost of Joseph Stalin: The Lord is not real, royal Duke! The Lord you speak of is nothing but a construction of the capitalist regime designed to spread compliance and subservience. The only deity you need concern yourself with is the BASTARDLY FATHER, and if you don't know him yet: you will find him tonight- Bourbon will ensure it![/white]
As Bobby's music blares throughout the arena, slowly walking out onto the entrance ramp is Bobby Bourbon. He looks out at the crowd in the arena, cold and stoic, surveying his surroundings. He stops and raises his fists at 45 degree angles, and continues his deliberate plod towards the ring. He raises both arms outward, accepting fives, slaps, daps, knucks, and touches as he does. He looks on into the ring, feeling the energy of every fan he makes contact with. He stops, and begins stomping in place, with the utmost joy to be in front of the XWF crowd. He stops a camera.
"I'm a bad, bad man, but like my home, the XWF, I have plenty of bad, bad fans!"
Bobby climbs the steps, then climbs the nearest ring post half way and raises his fists at 45 degree angles. The lights go back to normal and the music stops. The fans in attendance all echo their sentiments for the match.
Bobby acknowledges the crowd. They roar. Bobby looks back at the entrance ramp, waiting for his opponent.
Stalin: Bobby Bourbon is a bad, bad man- and a hell of a bastard! Tonight will be his, Dukey boy, just mark my words!
Duke: The Bastards just have the worst possible fans, don't they?
The lights in the arena dip to black in time with the sirens and beat to the opening of Sweatpants (BattleTapes Remix) by Childish Gambino, the lights then beginning to flash, alternating left and right onto the ramp. In time, the letters "S", "E", "B", and then "Empire" flash one at a time on the big screen until the lights stop flashing as the lyrics hit.
"She askin' “Why you say that?!”
The beat drops and the lights flash on the rampway again. As they do, the screen illuminates with "SEB" and then "EMPIRE" flashing on the sceen.
"Rich kid asshole, paint me as a villain"
Sebastian Everett-Bryce flings his arms wide, staring up with his head covered by the hood of his jacket. He stands in the middle of the ramp, the lights beating down on him, before looking out at the crowd. He wears a long jacket with the hood pulled up over his head, zipped to the waist. The jacket, which is cut away at the bottom and only runs down the back of his legs, is patterned with an elongated Union Flag, but it’s in black and white and appears to be cracked and broken. His tights are short, with the initials SEB emblazoned upon the front.
The lights lift, and SEB makes his way to the ring, stretching his neck from side to side as he walks, his eyes focused on the ring. He climbs up the steps and steps through the ropes before standing in the middle of the ring.
"I'm winnin', yeah, yeah, I'm winnin' (What?)
Rich kid, asshole, paint me as a villain"
He extends his arms once more before pulling back his hood and removing his jacket to reveal the back of his tights which read “S.E.B”
"Don't be mad cause I'm doing me better than you doing you
Better than you doing you, fuck it, what you gon' do? (What?!)"
He flashes his arms out to a side, a satisfied and somewhat sneery grin upon his face, he holds the position for a moment, to allow the crowd to take pictures, before moving towards his corner.
Stalin: Such a dramatic entrance, and for what?! To be beaten by the will of the people, by Bobby Bourbon himself! All this hogwash and pomp shows the capitalist decadence of Sebastian. His empire was built on the backs of the people's exploitation!
Duke: And what was your Empire built off, Joe? Sebastian is one of the greatest to ever step into an XWF ring, and if anyone can knock the Bastards down a peg, it's the Emperor!
Sebastian Everett-Bryce
- vs -
Bobby Bourbon Singles
DING! DING! DING!
As the bell rings, the atmosphere in the arena builds with excitement as two of the best in the business stand across from each other. The tension is palpable as Bobby Bourbon stands tall, his broad chest puffed with confidence, a grin forming across his face as he sizes up the ever agile Sebastian Everett-Bryce.
Without hesitation, Bobby charges forward, looking to land an early blow, but SEB, ever the technician, sidesteps with lightning speed. The crowd gasps as SEB grabs Bobby’s wrist, yanking him into a quick arm drag that sends Bourbon crashing to the mat. The crowd erupts, but Bobby is already back on his feet, snarling and furious. He charges again, only for SEB to leap into the air with a picture-perfect dropkick that knocks Bobby back into the ropes. SEB immediately takes control, his technical prowess on full display. He springs off the ropes, delivering another dropkick to Bobby’s chest that sends him tumbling to the mat again. The crowd cheers as SEB slides into a quick pin- but Bobby kicks out with authority!
Duke: Look how dominant Sebastian is tonight! He's wrestling like he has a chip on his shoulder, even though he's already accomplished almost everything in this business. That's why Sebastian is the Emperor: because whenever he steps into that ring, he rules!
Stalin: Hogwash! You capitalist swine! Bobby Bourbon is simply deploying the old Russian war-fighting tactics! Remember when I let the Germans march all the way to Stalingrad, only so that way I could trap them and cut off their supply lines? This is the exact same approach! It's the Bastards way!
Duke: I don't know if any of that's true, to be honest with you.
Stalin: It doesn't matter if it's true, it matters if the party says it!
Duke: Riiiiight....
As the commentary team debates tactics, SEB remains relentless. He stays on Bobby, using a series of arm drags to keep the bigger man off-balance every time he tries to rise. Whenever Bobby gets close to his feet, SEB is right there, connecting with another quick maneuver to disrupt Bobby's rhythm. Bobby is staggering, his face a mask of frustration as SEB bounces off the ropes, striking with yet another precision dropkicks that rattles and drops the biggest bastard of them all.
Bobby, however, doesn't stay down for long. He grits his teeth, digging deep into his reserves of strength. Bobby kips up to his feet and delivers a sudden clothesline that nearly decapitates SEB as he’s coming off the ropes! Bobby doesn’t waste a second in taking advantage of the turning tide. He drags SEB to his feet and begins unloading with thunderous body shots, each one causing SEB to buckle slightly, before lifting him up and sending him crashing down with a massive sidewalk slam.
Stalin: I told you, Duke of Nothingrad, that Bobby Bourbon was merely 'playing oppussum', as you Americans say! He has taken complete control of this match now, just as the party of Bastards expected him to!
Duke: I don't think this was his plan, but nevertheless Bobby Bourbon is bringing the whole house down atop of Sebastian right now!
Bobby takes a moment to catch his breath, leaning against the ropes as the crowd goes nuts. Bobby smirks as he watches SEB struggle to get up, his confidence swelling. Bobby pulls SEB to his feet once again, and the crowd begins to murmur in anticipation. Bobby hoists Sebastian up for an EMC Squared: the Earth's Mightiest Chokeslam. As he delivers the move, he proves once again Robbie's mass times the force he hits with inside the squared circle gives the crowd energy! The crowd goes absolutely intercontinentally ballistic as Bobby lifts the smaller man high into the air and parades him around the ring before slamming him down violently! The impact shakes the entire ring as SEB lies motionless on the mat.
Stalin: The EMC Squared! The Soviet Union's greatest scientist is back at it again, and this time, the Bastard has brought nuclear levels of devastation upon the capitalist swine in the ring! This has to be it, the Bastard has won!
Duke: I hate it when you're right, Joe, but I don't know how anyone could kick out of this!
Bobby smirks as he places a single toe atop SEB's chest for the pin.
1!
2!!
KICKOUT!!!!!
Stalin: CHEATING! CHEATING! Sebastian must be cheating, he goes straight to the gulag for daring to kick out! Call your secret police, Thaddeus, the time is now!
Duke: The Emperor disbanded my secret police ages ago, Joe! There's nothing I can do about him kicking out!
Somehow, Sebastian Everett-Bryce kicks out at the last second, the crowd erupting in shock. Bobby stares at the referee in disbelief, but the official holds up two fingers, confirming that SEB is still alive in this match. Bobby growls, clearly irritated that his devastating power move hasn’t put SEB away. But Bobby's hellbent on finishing the match. With a sick grin, Bobby grabs SEB by the throat and lifts him up once more. The crowd watches, eager to see the end of the match.
Stalin: Again Bobby, do it again!
SEB somehow slips free of Bobby's grasp, landing gracefully on his feet behind the larger man. In an instant, he swings Bobby around and delivers a brutal suplex that crashes Bobby into the mat!
Duke: The Emperor has escaped!
Bobby stumbles to his feet, his legs unsteady. SEB’s precision has taken its toll. The crowd rallies as he measures Bobby, his breath heavy but steady. SEB suddenly charges, connecting with a flying forearm to Bobby’s face, sending him into the ropes. Bobby stumbles backward, and in a blink of an eye, SEB nails a springboard dropkick right to Bobby’s chest. The force of the impact drives Bobby backward, but somehow he remains standing, a testament to his power and grit.
But SEB isn’t finished. He charges once again, connecting with a series of strikes to Bobby’s face before finally springboarding off the top rope with a flying elbow that catches Bobby square in the jaw. Bobby is reeling, stumbling back into the corner. This is SEB’s moment. He stands tall, watching Bobby struggle to maintain his footing.
The crowd chants “SEB! SEB! SEB!” as the former champion looks for his next big move. He circles the ring, setting up Bobby for something devastating. With a surge of speed, SEB hits an explosive Empire Kick out of nowhere, connecting clean with Bobby’s temple. The impact sends Bobby crashing to the canvas. The crowd can barely breathe as SEB covers for the pin!
Stalin: NO! Bobby, no! Thaddeus, I'm begging you, call for the Cheka!
Duke: There's no Cheka in SEB's Empire: he's the judge, the jury, and the executioner here tonight!
1!
2!!
3- NO! KICKOUT!!!
Bobby barely kicks out in time, his legs throwing SEB off of him with such force that it seems impossible.
SEB stares at the referee in disbelief, but there’s no time to waste. With determination etched on his face, he climbs to the top turnbuckle, preparing for a bigtime aerial assault. But as he leaps into the air for a moonsault, Bobby recovers, jumping to his feet and catching SEB mid-flight. He slams SEB down hard, the force of the impact reverberating through the arena.
Duke: This match has been a showcase of skill vs strength, of brawn vs brains, of size vs speed! And who's going to come out on top? It's still anyone's guess!
Stalin: Are you calling our glorious Bourbon skilless, brainless, and speedless! Why, I oughta purge you from the XWF myself, you dirty thieving pig! The Bastard is in complete control of this match, and he has been the entire time!
Duke: Dude, I'm just calling the match how I see it!
Bobby takes a few moments to recover, shaking his head as he looks down at SEB, who’s barely moving.
Bobby grabs SEB by the hair and pulls him to his feet, his eyes burning with the put SEB down once and for all. Bobby sets up the Emperor up for a Bobby Bomb, lifting him up into the air by his trousers: but SEB has other plans. With a sudden surge of energy, SEB reverses the move, twisting his body in mid-air and flipping over Bobby's shoulders. SEB lands on his feet and immediately locks in the NIGHTFALL choke on Bobby!
The crowd gasps as Bobby’s face turns a deep shade of red. He’s trapped. His hands claw at SEB’s forearm, trying desperately to break free. The ref checks on Bobby, who is starting to lose consciousness. His arms go limp, his body slumping against SEB’s hold. The crowd is on their feet, watching intently as Bobby’s lights seem to be dimming.
Stalin: We need to save him from that capitalist pig! We have to do something about this, Bobby is losing air, he's losing his life inside that ring! The capitalists are choking our greatest revolutionary, trying to stop the Bastardly Father's words from ever coming from his lips again!
Duke: Joe, calm down! It's just a choke!
Stalin: The NIGHTFALL is not just any choke, it is the most lethal, most fatal choke ever discovered by the Spetsnaz!
Bobby's body starts losing energy as the airflow is brought to a sudden standstill...but Bobby isn’t dead yet. With a roar of effort, he grits his teeth and begins to lift SEB off the ground, his strength overwhelming the smaller man. SEB’s eyes widen in shock as Bobby slams him into the turnbuckle with a spine-crushing impact. The referee steps back, giving both men a moment to recover, but the damage has been done.
Bobby stumbles backward, his chest heaving as he tries to regain his composure. SEB is barely able to stand, but there’s a fire in his eyes, a burning desire to beat the bastard. As Bobby charges toward him, SEB catches him with a quick roll-up, hoping to surprise the bigger man!
1!
2!!
KICKOUT!!!
Both men are gasping for air now, the toll of the match clear on their bodies. Both men rise quickly to their feet, but Bobby is a hair quicker. He grabs SEB once again, kicking him in the gut before lifting him into the air with shocking strength.
Duke: He's going for another Bobby Bomb!
Stalin: Do it, Bourbon! DO IT!
But before he can execute the move, SEB slides out of his grasp and reverses it into a DDT, crashing Bobby to the mat with a sickening thud! The crowd is on their feet, screaming, as SEB struggles to pull Bobby into position for the finish. He locks in a sleeper hold, the Nightfall once more, and with everything he has left, he wrenches back. But the combined sweat between the two men is too much, and Bobby slips free! Bobby pushes Sebastian off of him, and both men take a few moments to regain their composure on opposite sides of the ring.
Duke: This match has been a barn burner, but I'm not sure how much fire these two men have left! They have to be running on fumes at this point!
Stalin: We must call in an immediate resource resupply for Bobby Bourbon then, because he needs our nation's help now more than ever!
Bobby and SEB both dart forward at the same time, using what little energy they have left to clash in the center of the ring. The pair lock up, with Bobby's strength overwhelming SEB: but only at first! Within a few seconds, SEB realizes his folly and he stomps on Bobby's toes, forcing the big man to let go. As soon as Bobby releases his grasp, SEB kicks Bobby in the gut- causing Bourbon to keel over. That's when SEB senses his opportunity.
SEB grabs Bourbon and somehow, someway, he lifts the big man up into position for a piledriver. The crowd is on the edge of their seat as SEB stands tall with Bourbon in the middle of the ring, and then, in the blink of an eye:
SEB DELIVERS THE EXCUSE ME!
He covers Bourbon for the pinfall!
1!
2!!
3!!!!
Winner by Pinfall - Sebastian Everett-Bryce
Uh, ladies and gentlemen… I’ve just received word that myself, and Mean Gene here, are going to be joined by a very special guest commentator.
GoED: Oh! Is it the ghost of Henry George?
Never heard of him, Mean Gene, and frankly I had never heard of you until tonight. But based on our conversations, I believe you and our guest will get along just fine!
GoED: *getting along* should be the bare minimum of what humanity demands, Thaddeus. *getting along*... meeting a basic standard of living… should be a given
Ok… well, how about you two hash that out, you and the one, the ONLY, Independent Senator from Vermont… BERNIE SANDERS!
Bernie Sanders walks out from behind the curtain, waving to the massive audience that’s engulfed Coreytopia. Wow he says within earshot of the camera a few times over as he takes in the spectacle that is MayDay. He joins Thad and the specter of Eugene Debs, finding a seat between the two of them at the commentary booth.
Mr. Senator Sanders, what an honor!
He and Thad shake hands. Then Bernie turns and shakes the non-existent hand of GoED.
Thank you mista’ Duke. The honor is truly mine.
I’ve gotta say, I never took you for a pro-wrestling fan.
Listen… what I am a fan of what this event here tonight represents. All across this country, you’ve got millions, and millions of people who are beginning to wake up. They’re taking action. They’re beginning to ask the hard questions: ‘why is it in the richest country in the history of the world, that sixty-percent of our people are living paycheck to paycheck’: why is it, in the richest country in the history of the world that the majority of our people are spending over 40% of their limited income on housing: why is it so, that a handful of billionaires own more wealth than the bottom HALF of our society?
GoED: BILLIONAIRE?! Why… I… WHAT ON EARTH IS A BILLIONAIRE?!
It’s a great question Mr. Debs… the short answer? They’re the megalomaniacs who are destroying our planet in the name of greed.
Um. I’m not sure if I should feel offended
Listen, Thad… are all billionaires bad? …Yes. They are. But do all billionaires KNOW they’re bad, or are all billionaires actively causing harm? Maybe not.
Ok. So… umm.. SPEAKING OF CAUSING HARM!
Up next, we have two of the most imposing figures in all professional wrestling set to battle in another proverbial RUBBER MATCH.
King Kieran and Mark Flynn first faced-off in November of ‘22 in what was one of the biggest matches in history on the former Madness program. During that time, Mark Flynn was riding one of the most dominant Universal Title reigns in history. He was able to use his masterful technical skills to pin King.
Fast forward to March Madness 6…2024… King and Flynn would meet again in the semi-finals of the King of the XWF tournament, where ultimately, King would defeat Flynn after a swift, timely counter. King not only won that match, but the grand prize of being crowned King of XWF. Which he has now become the first person ever to repeat that feat. But tonight we have to wonder, can he repeat his most recent win over Mark Flynn here tonight, at MAYDAY 3?
Flynn bursts through the curtain in a dazzling blue robe. Across the back, it says "King of the Midcarders". He makes a deliberate, emotionless march to the ring and steps through the ropes.
What a wonderful song.
GoED: Oh, you’ll like this fellow, Bernard. He really knows how to speak to the people. He’s a kindred spirit sipping from the mainspring of a discontented civilization.
Indeed, this is the second time we’ve seen this man in action. And though he was booked as Michael Graves… allegedly…. Tonight, the Anarchy Champion walks out to the ring, maybe as a surrogate? But certainly with no mask, and no mistaken identity. This is MARK FUCKING FLYNN, one of the best to ever do it in an XWF ring. He said that tonight he’s going to punish King for having abandoned his kingdom after March Madness 6. He said that he will be the one to protect that gates of our Kingdom from the likes of the Black Rainbow.
What is everyone’s obsession with Monarchy?
GoED: For shame!
uhh… well, it’s more of a figurative…uh
What would the many thousands of brave souls who fought, and died, to secure Democracy in the United States think today watching so much pageantry dedicated to the likes of a king?
We may never know, Bernie. But what we will know here in a moment is how this record shattering crowd in Coreytopia, Florida is going to react to THE King of the XWF.
The first, frenetic strums of Faith No More's "Gentle Art of Making Enemies" rips through the arena as strobes of gold and white cast across the stage and crowd. After several moments, and then a few more for good measure, Kieran King eventually saunters onto the stage, smugly mugging for the audience
Earlier tonight, King Kieran laid down the gauntlet for the XWF roster. He made it known that he’s not impressed with the current state of affairs regarding the Universal Title. He doesn’t believe there’s a worthy soul on this roster of representing *his kingdom*, a roster that includes Mark Flynn. But King walks into this match an injured man, who suffered brutal assaults from Matthias Syn, Aurora, and then The Black Rainbow. And despite not being 100% for this contest, he made it clear to Mark Flynn that Anarchy… Flynn’s primary wrestling home… is *his kingdom* too!
Instead of his usual sprint, King walks towards the ring and gently rolls underneath the bottom rope - practically hovering off the mat. He foregoes his typical display, and instead settles his gaze onto Flynn.
Each man begins pacing their respective corner as the await the bell.
It cannot be understanded what's at stake here tonight. EAch man feels they have something to prove. Flynn wants to eradicate the XWF of this monarchy, while King Kieran looks to reaffirm that this is his kingdom to rule
Non-Title Match
Allegedly Micheal Graves
- vs -
King Kieran Anarchy Rules - 1 RP/1K
The bell rings and we’re underway!
King and Flynn move right at one another. They lock horns in the center of the mat, and King immediately hollers out in pain. Flynn as quickly wrenched the arm over, the same arm that was damaged badly at Ides of March. King pulls away from Flynn and favors the shoulder, making a nimble move to put some distance between the two of them.
Oh, that’s not a good sign guys. King Kieran is favoring one of the many limbs that were badly injured the last time we saw him in the ring. And if he’s facing the same Mark Flynn I know? Then that, along with every other little weakness, will be exploited here
Flynn pounces, closing the gap and going for another grapple, but King shifts out of the way and puts Flynn down…sort of… with a drop toe hold. Flynn lands on his forearms, and King escapes, he runs at the turnbuckle leaping to the middle with his trademark agility… oh but he’s favoring the leg, he turns to leap back with a look of anguish on his face
But it’s too late!
Flynn runs up behind an German suplexes King from the middle rope. He keeps King locked up and rolls through for a second German suplex, only King blocks the lift by wrapping his leg around Flynn’s. Flynn pauses. Quickly lifts again, but when King tries to block using his leg this time, Flynn adjusts, grabs the leg and takes King and begins locking in a calf crusher!
King shouts out, and immediately begins pulling away with all of his might. Flynn is trying to keep the hold locked in, but King makes it to the apron. He crawls out of the ring, using the rope as a wall between him and Flynn. King rolls off the apron and gingerly lands on the arena floor where he begins limping around the ring, and favoring his arm.
This crowd here in Coreytopia is letting King have it right now! They’re trying to see a match, and it appears as if all King is doing is nursing his wounds.
This man is clearly very badly injured. It’s a shame that in today’s society, people will forego seeing a doctor, because they can’t afford the outrageous cost of medicine and treatment.
GoED: The world is a sick place, and I am sick with it
Well, I’ll tell you one thing… King Kieran can certainly afford to see a doctor, but knowing him? He’s arrogant enough to believe that he can overcome anything
Flynn throws his arms up at King as the crowd continues to boo. King turns briefly to sneer at a fan or two before he notices Flynn exiting the ring and making chase. As Flynn turns the corner, King slides back into the ring and runs at the ropes - - -BUT HE HOBBLES AGAIN!
He grabs at his leg, but within a matter of seconds, so too does Flynn! He dragonscrews King to the mat and holds onto the leg. King is on his back, his hands up pleading for Flynn not to- - - drop that falling elbow right into the inside of King’s knee!
King screams out again, and kicks Flynn away with his other leg before any more damage can be done. King starts using the ropes to pull himself back to his feet, but Flynn is there- he’s moving in for an arm drag, but King puts one leg through the ropes as Flynn tries to grapple. King yells at the ref, demanding a break and the ref grants it.
Flynn has what appears to be a clear advantage here tonight, but everytime he starts getting some momentum, King halts it!
King all the way out on the apron now grimaces and asks the ref to look at his leg. The ref obliges and leans over, checking it out. This seems to take forever as King appears to be really struggling as he argues with the ref about whether or not he can continue. Flynn is losing his patience and moves in - - -BUT KING JAMS A THUMB IN FLYNN’S EYE WHILE THE REF IS FOCUSED ON HIS LEG - - - Flynn grabs at his eye, and suddenly King is upright, brushing off the ref and grabs Flynn by the head, snapping him throat first against the top rope with a falling jawbreaker.
GoED: If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that this King fellow is trying to bait his opponent
What a despicable act!
Flynn flings back, still on his feet, and now King is sliding back under the ropes. He runs in a full sprint past Flynn, hits the ropes and then on the rebound the plants Flynn with slingblade! King hits the ropes again… LIONSAULT!
ONLY CATCHES THE BARE CANVAS!
Flynn rolls out of the way just in time and is already up. He’s grabbing King’s bad arm and twists it around - - - HE’S GOT A THE FUJIWARA
FOR ONLY A SECOND BEFORE KING PULLS AWAY!
Again King has escaped to the floor. He’s grabbing at his arm again now, making awful faces and shouting obscenities at Flynn.
The ref begins a count, and King is milking it.
1… 2… 3…
King limps around the ring
4… 5… 6…
And this time Flynn is patrolling the ropes. He’s going to make King break the count himself, and be right there waiting when he rolls back into the ring.
7… 8…
King has no choice. He rolls back into the ring, right into a ready stomp in that bad shoulder from Flynn.
Flynn quickly twists the arm again, and pulls King up to his feet. With the arm wrenched, he leads the vulnerable King over to the turnbuckle, kicking him in the knee along the way. When Flynn backs King all the way wup, he whips him with all of his might, nearly falling in the process as King collides chest first with the opposite turnbuckle pads, and as King turns around - - -RUNNING KNEE TO THE CHIN!
NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!!!!
BRIDGING PIN!!!
1!
2!!
KICKOUT!!!
But Flynn gives King no time..
He’s locked in a surfboard stretch!
GoED: Oh my, that looks as painful as privatization!
Yeah guys, I’m not so sure that King is faking this. He looks like he’s in a considerable amount of pain, and has looked that way since the beginning. Flynn is just doing his job, putting on a technical showcase, but man it’s hard to watch anyone be punished like this
The ref is on his knees, pleading with King, asking if he wants to submit. King screams out in agony but won't give up. Flynn is pulling with all of his might, and using all of his strength to keep King in position. Kieran keeps refusing the ref's offer to submit, and finally, Flynn has no choice but to release the submission.
King is badly damaged now, rolling around on the mat in agony. But Flynn goes right back to work. He has King up by the arm again, leading him into the corner with a series of mean chops across the chest. He has king the corner now, steps back and runs in with a knee lift.
The knees land flush, and King starts falling out of the corner. Flynn slides in behind him - - -ATOMIC DROP!
King falls forward to his knees, and is dangling on the middle ropes now.
Flynn steps out on the apron - - - KNEE TO THE HEAD
IS AVOIDED!
King slips back into the ring as Flynn bashes his knee against the apron.
King is still in bade shape though, begging the ref to help him to his feet, and screams when the ref tries to grab his shoulder. Flynn is recovering, and climbing the turnbuckle. And just as King stands - - - DIVING DROPKICK!!!!
TO THE REF’S FACE!!!!
I don’t know if he meant to do it, but King just pulled that ref in the way of Flynn’s dropkick as he fell back to the mat!
Flynn gets back to his feet, his hands in his hair and his eyes wide as he leans over to check o nthe ref he inadvertently took out of action
LOW BLOW!
King throws a bicep into Flynn’s crotch from behind.
BUZZSAW KICK!
Flynn is flattened, and now King is limping over to the turnbuckle. He climbs up, and waits for Flynn to stand…. DIVING DOUBLE AXE HANDLE!
Well the tides have certainly turned in this one folks!
King picks Flynn up and whips him into the corner. He follows behind and drapes Flynn’s legs over the middle ropes. He backs all the way across the ring and - - -
CROWN JEWELS!!!!
The running punt to Flynn’s groin is felt throughout the Coreytopia!
King covers…
1….2……3…….4…….?????
The ref is still out! We need a backup out here now!
Finally, a second ref comes rushing out from behind the curtains, he slides under the ropes
1!
2!!
KICKOUT!!!
King pounds the mat in frustration, and stands to argue with the ref. Making his case that he should’ve already won the match. BUT HE TAKES TOO LONG!
CHOP BLOCK FROM FLYNN!
Flynn has King by the leg and drags him near the corner. Flynn holds onto the leg and climbs out of the ring. Pulling King closer to the turnbuckle.
He rears the leg back and SWINGS IT AT THE STEEL POST - - - BUT KING!
He grimaces through some extra effort in his quads and uses his leg to run Flynn’s head into the steel. The crowd gasps as Flynn’s forehead is immediately showing color.
King gets out onto the apron, turns backward and a WHISPER IN THE WIND FROM THE APRON!
The crowd goes wild!
What a tenacious fight this is between these two!
GoED: It almost seems as if this crowd is enjoying watching King rally here.
Well, through no fault of his own, Flynn has put on a wrestling clinic against the injured King. It’s easy to feel sympathy for someone who’s being dominated. But now that King has fought back and appears to be in the driver seat, we’ll see how long he can keep up the sympathy act
The ref reaches a 7-count before King rolls under the ropes…
8…
Flynn is up but wobbly…
9….
HE LITERALLY DIVES UNDER THE ROPES JUST IN TIME!
King looks devastated. He’s sitting on his rear and scooting back trying to put some space between himself and Flynn. But Flynn looks possessed, standing, breathing heavily, seething, blood trickling down his forehead.
He grabs Kieran by the leg again, and flips him on his belly. He picks his leg all the way up now and slams his knee into the mat. He grabs the leg again, and Kieran is trying desperately to crawl away, but Flynn is all over him - - - STF
IS COUNTERED!
As soon as Flynn hooked his leg over, King maneuvered his lower body and causes Flynn to trip forward, falling face first into the turnbuckle pad.
King limps up to his feet and has Flynn down in the corner now.
King starts in with a series of stomps to Flynn’s head, and chest. Flynn tries covering up and blocks a few of the first kicks, but eventually they start getting through as King grabs the ropes for more leverage. He uses his boot to choke Flynn until the ref makes him break the hold.
King steps back to the center of the mat and runs in, cracking Flynn in the head with a running knee!
King covers!
1!
2!!
KICKOUT!!!
King is beside himself. Angrily he gets to his feet and starts climbing the turnbuckle… HE’S GOING TO SET UP FOR THE KINGMAKER!
BUT FROM BEHIND IT’S FLYNN!
HE’S GOT KING’S HEAD TUCKED UNDER HIS ARM!!!
REVERSE DDT INTO A KNEE INTO A - - - ROLLING DDT!!!!!!!!
LOGICAL CONCLUSION! THIS ONE IS OVER!!!
BUT FLYNN KEEPS WRAPPED AROUND KING, LIFTS HIM - - - SECOND ROLLING DDT!!!!!
IS UNCONSCIOUSLY SPUN OUT OF BY KING!!!
UGLY ON THE OUTSIDE!!!!
With a last ditch effort, King smashes Flynn face first into his knees with a codebreaker!
King is flat on his back, Flynn is wobbling and falls back-first over King’s stomach
FLYNN’S SHOULDERS HIT THE MAT
KING GETS A SLING ARM UP ON FLYNN’S CHEST
ORIGINAL REF
SECOND REF
1!
1!
2!!
2!!
WAIT A SECOND! WHAT???
3!!!
3!!!
Both refs call for the bell!
One then grabs King’s arm, while the other grabs Flynn’s arm.
The two refs look at one another incredulously and begin to argue
WINNERS: KING KIERAN! AND MARK FLYNN!
I can’t believe what we’re witnessing here. Talk about equality, Bernie… somehow both of these men won this match!
……
…….
Bernie?
GoED: Oh he left ages ago. I believe he’s off arguing with Stalin somewhere.
Well, he missed out on one of the most intense wrestling matches I’ve ever witnessed. Both men brought their absolute A-GAME for this show. King Kieran used his injuries as an advantage, opening himself up for Flynn’s onslaught of technical prowess. King took the extra damage to lure Flynn in, and get additional breaks from the ref… but that’s a risky choice with Flynn and he showed King why. Mark Flynn punished King for the majority of this match. But in the end, this chapter of Flynn v. King is a double pinfall!
King and Flynn both hobble to their feet when.
The lights cut.
What in the hell?
Darkness. Not silence—because 900,000 people are murmuring, shouting, confused. Phone lights flicker. Chants start to build.
The lights return.
Quickly from the crowd, Schism appears, and helps Flynn from the ring. The two of them escape through the crowd!
Oh no…
While standing in the ring near the ropes—still as a statue—is EMILIA GLAZKOV.
The Advocate of the BLACK RAINBOW.
She wears a torn white lace wedding dress, stained along the hem. A veil veils her face in soft shadow. In her hand is the teardrop-shaped bottle—CONSECRATION. The same bottle she carried on Anarchy, the same bottle that housed the black ichor she used to attack Tommy Wish. Her posture is effortless, hips cocked, like a bride waiting for something old to die.
Kieran freezes.
He raises his fists. Defensive stance. He’s seen what she did to Wish.
But Emilia doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch.
She just watches.
KING BETTER WISE-UP LIKE FLYNN AND GET THE HELL OUTTA- - -
The lights cut again.
Gasp. Murmurs. A roar.
The lights come back.
SARAH WOLF is behind Kieran.
Hair a mess of ink-black tangles. Eyes wild. Smirking like a woman who never learned to feel fear.
Before Kieran can react—
WHAM—Sarah hits a savage SPINAL LOCK takedown, twisting him into the mat.
Kiernan fights back, but she is relentless. Bites. Scratches. They scramble to their feet but she takes control to deliver a brutal PILEDRIVER that drops him center-ring.
She hits the ropes. Returns.
DEATH
COMES
RIPPING.
Single leg meteora to the face of a seated Kieran. His body folds. Crowd gasps.
Kiernan struggles to rise. Sarah grabs him from behind—snaking around like a serpent.
She jams her fingers into his mouth. DEVILLOCK.
Her other hand clamps behind his skull. He gags, jaw forced open, back arched.
Emilia steps forward, veil now pulled over head. She lifts the bottle of CONSECRATION.
And opens it.
She tilts her head back—mouth wide—and pours a measure down her throat.
She walks slowly to Kiernan, lips shining black.
Then she leans in—intimate, almost gentle—and SPITS the Consecration straight into his mouth and across his face.
The reaction is immediate.
Kieran writhes.
His limbs twist. Eyes flutter. He begins to laugh—then scream. Then laugh again. Then sob.
His body convulses. He claws at the mat. A moan of primal agony tears from his throat.
Lights out.
Lights back.
Sarah and Emilia are gone.
Only King Kieran remains, writhing in the ring, lost in whatever world they dragged him into.
That was uncalled for! Kieran was already seriously injured, just survived an absolute war with Mark Flynn - - and now this????
A Black Rainbow logo flickers faintly across the big screen.
B L A C K.
A distorted march and shrill, ear-splitting violins attack the mass of attendants with visceral intent, triggering a contentious wave of hateful screams and wails. The music builds, and builds, until GORGO's voice ECHOES throughout the arena…
…NOW WE BECOME DEATH… …THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS… ♫ GO BACK TO SLEEP! ♫
CUT TO: THE STAGE.
A Perfect Circle's COUNTING BODIES LIKE SHEEP violently assaults the listeners with its droning march as SMOKE AND RUIN crawls across the platform in strobing white light. A single spotlight shines down to center stage as Maynard begins singing the first verse.
♫ Don't fret precious, I'm here ♫ ♫ Step away from the window ♫ And go… BACK TO SLEEP ♫
From below, GORGO slowly rises out of the stage surrounded in dark haze and flashing light. Blonde hair is smeared black with grease and hangs in wet tangles. Face painted black and white and marked with pagan symbology. White eyes outlined in black. Their smile, their awful smile, stretched into a hideous, crazed grin. Muscular shoulders and arms, but with feminine curves in all the right places, covered in black smeared grease paint. Their perfect, terrifying form elevates to the stage level with their shoulders heaving and body twisted into a grotesque, animalistic hunch.
They are YELENA GORGO. The Woman Who Laughs. The Mama-san. The Mad Queen.
♫ COUNT BODIES LIKE SHEEP ♫ ♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫ ♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫ ♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫ ♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫ ♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫ ♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫ ♫ COUNTING BODIES LIKE SHEEP TO THE RHYTHM OF WAR DRUMS ♫
They begin walking down the aisle but with a strange gate, more like a prowling animal, all while twisted giggles escape their mouth like a jackal's cry, causing their shoulders to hunch up and down with each hee-haw. Everyone watches their every movement. Shrieks and boos spew out of the mouths of everyone in attendance. All of them have nothing but utter contempt and disgust for Gorgo but every single one of them is standing to get a glimpse of them.
Gorgo crawls on their belly under the bottom rope and then pulls themself across the canvas to the middle of the ring. They sit up on their knees and then bend at the waist awkwardly backward, like a contortionist possessed by the devil. Then, suddenly, they lurch forward and let out a primal, howling, death metal scream with every muscle contracted and veins bulging outward through their skin as the house lights rise.
A custom version of BEAST by Tech N9ne begins to blast on the arena's speakers accompanied by the reaction of fans in attendance.
Insanity at it's finest Fire starter, Riot maker, Moon stricken, Animal need, Bad seed, Untamable beast!
A cloud of ocean blue smoke fills the top of the ramp, as the special lighting shines down upon the smoke it gives off the appearance of waves.
Everybody around me always think they know what's going on inside my mind think I'm Mr. Trash Talk all the time How they say on Diary 'You think you know, but you have no idea'
As the music kicks in, Shark jogs out of the curtains on cue. The chains around his neck sparkling into the camera as he's wearing a T-shirt that insults his opponent. He stands at the top of the ramp with his hands on his waist as he looks out into the crowd and takes a moment to look around at the packed arena. He nods his head with his typical cocky smile stretched from ear to ear. Before heading down the ramp he closes his eyes and spreads his arms out with his hands open, absorbing the mixed reactions of boos, cheers and screams coming his way.
He sings along to the music as he walks down the ramp, taking off his shirt on his way there and throwing it into the crowd without looking. He slides into the ring and begins to bounce off the ropes before shadow boxing. He then walks around the ring mouthing out something to the crowd about his opponent, the insults continuing but the broadcast is unable to pick it up.
The bell tolls across Coreytopia, and silence in the ring follows as both James Shark and Yelena Gorgo stare daggers at each other. The fans around them, however, are as rabid as can be as they chant and cheer in support of their Universal Champion.
“FREE THE SHARK! FREE THE SHARK! FREE THE SHARK!”
The weight on Shark’s shoulders lightens a bit at the crowd’s chant, a small yet confident smile coming across his face. He gestures to the people outside, taking in that shred of support as his eyes don’t leave Yelena.
Yelena’s own stare only hardens, with a smile fitting of a predator stretching over her face in response.
TD: Well, it sure doesn’t look like it’ll be in question at all as to who the people are supporting here tonight!
GoED: James Shark, he’s a working-class hero, Thad. They’ve seen the man, they’ve seen the way he’s been held down by the system, but they also see how he’s willing to fight against that system, both in and out of the XWF.
TD: Working class… right… sure, let’s go with that…
The two slowly advance forward, their malicious eyes holding a glimmer of curiosity as they come to each other. Gorgo’s smile twitches, her arm moving upwards with her palm exposed, offering a test of strength for Shark.
Shark’s own eyebrow twitches back in response as the two fighters steel themselves, getting ready for anything. Anticipation floods his body as he gets into position, slowly raising his arm to take on the test of strength-
OH! ROUNDHOUSE KICK FROM GORGO CRACKS SHARK RIGHT ON HIS KNEE!
TD: Sneak attack by Gorgo, not wasting any time! Gotta be careful any time you come into range with her!
GoED: Her kicks, they’re like bullets made from the bourgeoisie. I pity anyone caught on the receiving end of them.
Shark inhales deeply, having to back up, but Gorgo’s on the attack. She aims for another low roundhouse, but Shark raises his leg to move out of the way and backpedal again, instead snapping off a quick one-two jab-cross combo to Gorgo’s gut that has her hunching over.
Shark looks to press his advantage, aiming a fast right hook on high, but now it’s Gorgo who’s bobbing and weaving her way below! She steps back, readying herself as she aims a roundhouse on high- but Shark ducks underneath now!
Shark has a moment as he tries to lunge in! Looking for a double leg takedown, but Gorgo sees it coming! She raises her knee, striking Shark right on the jaw as he stumbles! The crowd wince at the impact as he has to stand, trying to cover up!
Gorgo is faster on her feet, though, quickly snaking behind Shark and hooking in both of his arms! She inhales, looking to lift Shark up for a Dragon Suplex-!
ELBOW FROM SHARK CUTS GORGO OFF! It hits right in her face as now she’s the one stumbling and letting go of Shark, but she has to recover fast as Shark turns around, grabbing her around the neck as he twists-!
Shark throws Gorgo right over his hip and onto the ground! The crowd pop like crazy as Shark is feeling the adrenaline right now throughout his system as he shouts on the impact!
TD: These two are going balls to the wall and we just started. That throw looked like a Koshi-guruma, and hit pretty well at that.
GoED: Plenty of vigor in that throw, too. Thaddeus, we both know Yelena’s an expert judoka and brings many of those throws into her repertoire in the ring - do you think Shark’s trying to give the implication here that anything Yelena can do, he can do better?
TD: Shark’s the kind of guy where I can totally see him doing something like that, but I think we can both agree Yelena isn’t going to exactly take too kindly to that…
Yelena’s eyes remain closed on the mat as the impact of the Koshi-guruma washes over her like waves. Shark looks wary, but has to try and get close in order to keep on the offensive.
Just as Shark looms over Yelena though, her eyes snap open, pupils turning to pinpricks before him as her ravenous smile returns yet again! Her legs snap upwards as she rolls backwards, looking to get back to her feet quickly!
Shark wisely sees a hurricanrana attempt of sorts coming as he backpedals, but in doing so has to let Yelena get to her feet with her back to Shark. She twists around, landing a gnarly roundhouse to Shark’s side before doubling up with ANOTHER loud roundhouse to the leg she nailed before!
GoED: Yelena’s ever so greedy out there with how she’s doubling up on her strikes. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised…
TD: In this business, a lot of people find that they need to be greedy if they’re going to see success, and winning this title is the biggest success you can get. Yelena’s got a target right now with that leg though, and she’s trying to make the most of it!
Shark raises his guard, but Yelena steps in close and grabs a hold of him! Her leg steps past him, sweeping the injured leg out from behind as Yelena uses it to forcefully throw Shark onto the ground as he lands hard!
TD: Osoto-gari now from Gorgo! I told you she wasn’t going to take too kindly to that Koshi-guruma earlier!
Yelena smirks, straddling Shark over his waist and uses her arms to pin his shoulders down onto the mat as the referee slides in for the cover. As the ref moves, Yelena whispers something to Shark, something the camera can’t quite pick up…
OOOOOOOOOOOOONE!
TWOOOOOOOOOOOO!
SHARK REACHES UP TO CLOBBER YELENA WITH A HAYMAKER AS HE KICKS OUT!
GoED: I think half of Coreytopia just heard that strike echo!
TD: No idea what Gorgo whispered to Shark just now, but whatever she said, she’s got the champ red-hot!
Shark claws his way back onto his feet, gnashing his teeth together as he balls his fists up! Gorgo tries to come over towards him again to try and bring him back down to earth, but Shark responds with a LIVER PUNCH! GORGO DOUBLES OVER FROM THE FORCE OF THE BLOW AS SHARK ROARS!
Shark follows it up with a staggering headbutt, driving Gorgo back as he has to fight for every inch of ground he’s getting here! A jab to the face, an uppercut to the gut, using his good leg to push Gorgo back into the corner! Shark has the upper hand as he’s seeing his opening, running forward…
BUT GORGO COUNTERS WITH AN OBLIQUE KICK RIGHT TO THE INJURED LEG! SHARK CRUMBLES TO THE MAT WHILE HOLDING HIS LEG!
GoED: This Yelena Gorgo never ceases to amaze with her savagery, Thaddeus. As expected of someone of a class as disgusting as the bourgeoisie. She’s like a big game hunter out there with how she’s eyeing him up like meat.
TD: Shark likes to fancy himself a predator himself with the whole sharks and blood motif he has going on, but there’s always a bigger predator out there in the waters. The question is… who’s the baddest creature underneath the depths?
Gorgo has her eyes locked onto Shark’s injured leg, and she’s going to make the most of it. She giggles like a schoolgirl, grabbing a hold of Shark’s bad leg by the ankle and raising it on high as if it’s a trophy. She tilts her head curiously at Shark on the ground, studying his reaction.
He responds by shouting an expletive at her, using his good leg to kick her in the face.
Yelena’s head snaps back on impact from the kick, taking a long, deep breath as her shiny teeth glimmer from the grin on her face. It lasts for a long moment as Shark tries to struggle, aiming another kick right at her face.
Only for Yelena to slam an elbow right down onto Shark’s knee to drive it into the mat! Shark yells as a vein throbs in his forehead!
GoED: If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this Yelena Gorgo is deriving some sort of sick, sadistic, almost sexual pleasure from the ways she can try to torture James Shark inside of that ring.
TD: First time?
GoED: Oh, so this is that common?
TD: That woman smiles in the ring in ways I haven’t seen in a long time.
Yelena throws another elbow right to the injured knee, taking perverse pride in grinding her body into the joint as a smug remark again slips from her lips as if it were nothing. Shark throws a left hand to the side of her head, but it lacks much of its usual power as Yelena manages to hold on. She aims a glare back towards him, continuing to tilt her head as she shifts.
Gorgo continues to pin Shark’s leg down on the mat, but she raises her body upward, using the extra distance to put some more momentum on a knee that slams right into the back of Shark’s own knee! Shark swears from the pain, but as the referee gets down onto his knees to ask if he gives up, he tells him to F-off which earns a pop from the fans!
TD: Well, Shark can sure still fight, but for how long?
Gorgo chuckles, bringing herself back onto her feet as she still has a hold of Shark by the ankle. She drags him across the ring akin to a murderer dragging a dead body, ignoring his attempts to struggle and claw onto the mat to avoid her from having her way here, but it’s of no use. Gorgo stomps onto his gut, knocking the wind out of his sails as she proceeds to slide out of the ring with Shark still inside.
This is needed however as Gorgo proceeds to drag Shark over by the ankle over to the metal ring post, bringing his leg past and SMASHING IT RIGHT INTO THE UNFORGIVING STEEL!
The fans wince in unison as Shark’s yells are only getting stronger! The referee yells at Yelena to get back into the ring, but she’s ignoring him!
TD: You talk about getting your hands dirty, I think Yelena’s trying to outright soak them in blood here.
GoED: This is stacking the deck in monumental proportions in her favor. If James Shark wants to declare himself a champion of the proletariat as these people want to believe in him as, he needs to fight back!
Sure enough, another kick from Shark’s good leg catches Gorgo on the jaw as she has to step back! She rubs her chin from the impact, noting the force Shark managed to bring back into his leg. Shark tries to gingerly crawl backwards, but Gorgo is on top of him and manages to drag him back to the ring post!
ALL SO SHE CAN WRAP HERSELF AROUND THE INJURED LEG AND APPLY A HEEL HOOK AROUND THE RING POST! SEVERAL FANS SCREAM IN HORROR AS GORGO WRAPS HER ENTIRE BODY AROUND THE LEG TO DANGLE HERSELF OFF OF IT!
SHARK IS SCREAMING BLOODY MURDER AS HE GRABS ONTO THE BOTTOM ROPE! HE REFUSES TO GIVE IN, BUT THE PAIN IS GETTING TO HIM!
THE REFEREE IS SNAPPING AT GORGO AND BEGINS TO COUNT!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
FIV- GORGO BREAKS THE HEEL HOOK!
GoED: For a moment there, I thought Yelena Gorgo would be letting herself get counted out with how close the count was getting…
TD: Unfortunately for Shark, that’s not the case, and even if it was, I still don’t think that would stop her…
Gorgo watches, letting Shark drag himself back into the middle of the ring. Like a child chasing after her doll, she rolls back into the ring, quick and eager to play with it more.
Shark manages to bring himself to the ropes though, finally beginning to be able to drag himself back onto his feet. He sucks in air through his teeth, gingerly testing weight on his injured leg as he slowly gets back up-
ONLY FOR GORGO TO KICK HIM ON THE BACK OF HIS KNEE AND BRING HIM BACK INTO A SEATED POSITION! Shark winces from the impact as he brings himself back onto his good knee now, kneeling and holding onto the second rope for support!
Gorgo’s running the ropes! She charges straight ahead at Shark, looking to lunge at him!
SHARK DRAGS THE SECOND ROPE DOWN THOUGH! YELENA SAILS RIGHT IN BETWEEN THE ROPES AND COLLIDES FULL-SPEED INTO THE METAL GUARD RAIL AS A SICKENING CRACK RINGS OUT!
TD: THAT MIGHT BE THE OPENING SHARK NEEDS!
GoED: YELENA GORGO PLAYED WITH HER FOOD FOR TOO LONG!
The fans pop like crazy as Shark smirks from the small victory! His leg still hurts like Hell, but he’s still trying to claw himself back into this match! He grabs onto the middle rope again, slowly pulling himself back onto his feet as he tries to limp around the ring, bringing some feeling back into his leg!
Gorgo is stirring on the outside, eyes glazed over for but a brief moment as her hand reaches towards the ring canvas from outside, murmuring something under her breath as she does so. She glares inside of the ring, watching as Shark wags his finger to wait for her.
A twitch of Gorgo’s lips betrays her excitement.
She rolls into the ring, and Shark’s immediately on top of her! He leaps into the air, not even giving her a SECOND to breathe as he aims his fist - SUPERMAN PUNCH! GORGO’S SKULL BOUNCES OFF OF THE RING CANVAS!
TD: James Shark laying down some Sharkbait! If Gorgo’s aim is to try and cripple Shark, he’s going to make sure he gives her some CTE in exchange between ramming herself into the barricade and now this!
GoED: Shark couldn’t even keep himself steady after that Superman Punch! He crumbled right down to the mat alongside Gorgo!
Shark wheezes as he drags himself across, now being the one to straddle Gorgo as he’s in Full Mount! He doesn’t waste any time however, winding up and bringing a slicing elbow against her face!
And another! And another!
TD: Oh, crap… this is looking similar to how Shark was bludgeoning SEB back during their match some time ago!
Elbow! Elbow! ELBOW! ELBOW! A CUT IS STARTING TO APPEAR ON YELENA GORGO’S FOREHEAD AS SHARK TARGETS IT! ELBOW! ELBOW!
YELENA GORGO BITES JAMES SHARK’S ARM AS IT COMES DOWN TOWARDS HER AGAIN!
GoED: DISGUSTING!
SHARK STRUGGLES IN GORGO’S GRASP, BUT AS BLOOD SPILLS DOWN HER SKIN, HER EYES GLIMMER IN DELIGHT! SHE DRAWS BLOOD FROM SHARK’S ARM IN RETURN, TEETH DIGGING THROUGH THE SKIN!
SHARK DELIVERS ANOTHER HAMMERFIST RIGHT ON THE CUT HE CREATED TO FORCE GORGO’S MOUTH OFF OF HIS ARM AS HE HAS TO SLINK OFF OF HER! BOTH COMPETITORS ARE STUCK ON THE GROUND AND STEWING IN THEIR WOUNDS!
TD: Somehow, these two haven’t killed each other. This is like a match made in Hell.
GoED: Well, they’re a match, but you also made the match, Thaddeus…
TD: Oh, don’t get me wrong, they’re putting on a show! But that doesn’t make this stomach-churning at points.
Across Coreytopia, all fans with their eyes on the match unite in one single, solidary chant that echoes far and wide.
“FREE THE SHARK! FREE THE SHARK! FREE THE SHARK! FREE THE SHARK!”
Shark uses the ropes for support, chuckling as he hears the fans shouting his name. He glares across the ring, finding Yelena Gorgo already standing in the middle of the ring. She’s not moving, head bowed down low as blood continues to trickle. Droplets fall off of her face like crimson rain, meeting the pale canvas and staining it.
Shark sees his opportunity and rushes forward one more time! He cocks his elbow as he LEAPS TOWARDS YELENA!
PAID!
IN!
BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!
YELENA KICKS JAMES SHARK’S LEG IN MID-AIR TO CRUMBLE HIM!
GoED: That kick was like lightning!
TD: Shark’s going to be lucky if he isn’t in a cast after this match with all this damage to the leg!
Shark howls as he falls to the mat, holding onto his knee as he pounds the mat in frustration. Gorgo simply stares and marvels quietly at the man before her, before her hand reaches out towards Shark. Her fingers sink into his skin like talons tearing apart meat, forcing him onto his feet as she proceeds to duck down low…
NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX! The referee gets in position to count the pin, but Yelena ignores him as she proceeds to show off her athleticism and flips back around to get back onto her feet! She hoists up Shark, showing off her strength as he’s completely groggy!
A SECOND NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX! The referee tries to count the pin again, but Gorgo again ignores him! Once again, she gets back onto her feet, bringing Shark with her as a third suplex is coming!
BUT JAMES SHARK LEAPS UP AND SINKS A GUILLOTINE CHOKE ON YELENA GORGO!
TD: HOW IS THIS MAN FINDING THIS STRENGTH?!
THE FANS ARE UNITED ONCE MORE IN CHANTING AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS, THEIR VOICES MAKING THE GROUND SHAKE!
“TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!”
SHARK WRENCHES BACK ON THE CHOKE WITH EVERYTHING HE’S GOT! GORGO’S TRYING TO PRY HERSELF OUT TO NO AVAIL! SHARK’S GRIP IS LIKE IRON!
THE REFEREE SLIDES IN! HE’S ASKING GORGO IF SHE WANTS TO GIVE UP!
GoED: WHETHER SHE LIKES IT OR NOT, GORGO IS IN POSITION TO EITHER TAP OR NAP RIGHT NOW!
TD: THE LONGER SHE STRUGGLES, THE LESS STAMINA SHE’S GOT LEFT IN THE TANK!
SHARK YELLS AT GORGO AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS TO TAP AS WELL AS HE CINCHES THE HOLD IN DEEPER! TIME IS RUNNING OUT FOR YELENA AS SHE HAS TO DO SOMETHING QUICKLY!
THE REFEREE IS ASKING GORGO AGAIN IF SHE WILL GIVE UP!
GORGO’S STRENGTH IS BEGINNING TO FADE! HER LEGS ARE BEGINNING TO GIVE OUT FROM HER! HER ARM SLUMPS TO THE FLOOR! THE FANS CAN TASTE THE BLOOD IN THE WATER AS THEY POP!
THE REFEREE RAISES GORGO’S ARM UP HIGH AND LETS IT FALL TO THE MAT!
ONE!
HE GRABS IT ONCE MORE TO LET IT FALL A SECOND TIME!
TWO!
THE REFEREE RAISES GORGO’S ARM ONE MORE TIME AND LET’S GO!
GORGO REACHES FORWARD TO SINK HER GRIP ACROSS JAMES SHARK’S FACE!
SHARK’S EYES WIDEN AS GORGO SQUEEZES! SHE SMASHES HIS SKULL AGAINST THE MAT! AGAIN! AND AGAIN! AND AGAIN!
GORGO HOISTS HERSELF FORWARD, STILL HOLDING ONTO SHARK’S FACE AS SHE SLIPS OUT OF THE GUILLOTINE AND RAISES HER WEIGHT TO KEEP SHARK IN A PINNING PREDICAMENT!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!
TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
KICKOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUT!
TD: Eugene, I’m starting to wonder if this is ever going to end!
GoED: Look! Shark’s still bringing himself back onto his feet!
Shark has to shake out the cobwebs, and he’s just a beat behind, but he’s ready to try and finish this fight and win-
KICK DEMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!
TD: SHE HIT IT! SHE HIT IT! KICK DEMON! THAT’S GOTTA BE IT!
GoED: DID YOU SEE HOW SHARK’S SKULL SNAPPED BACK?!
GORGO CHUCKLES AS SHE SLIDES ON TOP OF SHARK FOR THE PIN!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!
TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
KICKOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUT!
TD: HE CAN’T BE KILLED OUT THERE! I DON’T BELIEVE WHAT I’M SEEING!
GoED: THE SPIRIT OF THE PROLETARIAT IS LIVING ON WITHIN JAMES SHARK! HE’S EMBODYING EVERY SINGLE WORKING SOUL THAT’S SUPPORTING HIM RIGHT NOW!
Gorgo blinks, genuine surprise etching onto her face as she stares down at the man who’s managed to kick out and persevere in spite of everything that’s been thrown at him in this match. Another ghost of a chuckle escapes her lips, with Gorgo’s body practically on marionette strings as she forces herself back onto her feet. Beneath her, Shark begins to stir once more.
TD: But you have to wonder at this rate if he’s only putting himself at more risk the more he kicks out! Gorgo’s insane, sadistic in that ring! Eugene, do you think it’d be worth it to try and live to fight another day at this rate?
GoED: The Universal Championship is James Shark’s heart and soul, Thaddeus, we both know that quite well. If he were to lose it here, that’d be no better than being thrown into jail again. It’d be no better than death to him.
TD: I don’t think Gorgo has any problems with trying to actually kill him, if it comes down to it…
GoED: You say that after calling him immortal-
TD: And I meant it, but I don’t know if Gorgo can also be stopped in that ring right now.
Gorgo simply slides her foot underneath Shark’s chin as he stirs, commanding him back to his feet as she stares at him. Gorgo’s crimson mask and Shark’s ravaged arm paint the canvas red, a telltale sign of how much destruction this entire match has caused.
Shark finally comes back onto his feet from Yelena’s command as the audience watch with bated breath. Gorgo’s body shifts, and her leg snaps with it-
KICK DEMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!
BUT JAMES SHARK’S INJURED LEG HAS HIM CRUMBLING UNDERNEATH THE KICK! IT SAILS OVERHEAD!
GoED: THE BAD LEG WORKED IN HIS FAVOR?!
TD: GORGO’S OFF BALANCE!
GORGO STUMBLES AS SHARK’S EYES FLICKER, REALIZING THE OPENING! HE DOESN’T NEED TO THINK TWICE AS HE FORCES HIMSELF ONTO HIS FEET AND LEAPS!
PAID!
IN!
BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!
BUT GORGO DOESN’T FALL!
SHE STUMBLES BACKWARDS, EYES GLOSSY FROM THE IMPACT AS HER BACK MEETS THE ROPES AND BOUNCES OFF TO SLAP AGAINST SHARK IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING!
SHARK MURMURS SOMETHING INTO GORGO’S EAR, THE TWO WARRIORS ON THEIR LAST LEGS AS HE PUSHES HER OFF ONCE MORE!
GORGO BOUNCES OFF THE ROPES AGAIN AS SHE SLUMPS TOWARDS THE CENTER OF THE RING-
A SECOND PAID IN BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!
SHARK COLLAPSES ON TOP OF GORGO AS THE REFEREE COUNTS!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!
TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
WINNER and STILL XWF UNIVERSAL CHAMPION - JAMES SHARK!
TD: I DON’T BELIEVE WHAT I JUST SAW! YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT ‘GUTSY PERFORMANCE,’ MEAN GENE, THAT’S THE TEXTBOOK DEFINITION RIGHT THERE!
GoED: I’m utterly flabbergasted, but monumentally impressed with James Shark! A worthy spirit of the proletariat indeed! And Gorgo… well, for a bourgeoisie, she was indeed impressive as well…
TD: That woman made my blood chill with half of the stuff she did in that match. Surely… surely she’s going to win the Universal Championship one day, and I don’t know who’s going to be ready when that does happen.
GoED: But that day is not today, Thaddeus Duke. Right now, we should celebrate the man who did win.
As James Shark is presented with the Universal Championship as he slowly gets back to his feet, the championship he fought so hard for repeatedly, he raises it high into the air as more cheers and chants surround him from the crowd.
A million bodies pulse to the last echoes of the main event. Towering light rigs crown the horizon. Drone cameras buzz overhead like flies. Giant projection screens loom above the crowd, flickering with sponsor logos and highlights.
The lights go out.
Not all of them. Just enough.
Hundreds of thousands of murmurs. People lift phones. Security radios crackle. The stage flickers.
The main screen comes to life.
A low, analog hum. A tape whirring. The screen distorts, color-bleeds. Then, in lo-fi VHS font:
NOWHERE IN THE BLACK RAINBOW
A stuttering lullaby begins.
Judy Garland’s voice—sweet, familiar—cracks. It slows. Deepens. Warps.
“Nowhere... in the Black... Raaaaain... bow..."
The melody from Somewhere Over the Rainbow plays in reverse, laced with minor chords and discordant bell chimes. The notes lurch.
The screen shows:
- A carousel melting.
- Moths erupting from a wrestler’s mouth.
- Static-eyed cultists.
- An eye inside a triangle, blinking sideways.
- The word KNEEL flashing frame-by-frame.
“Night won’t die... Screams still rise...”
The crowd is split. Most are confused. Many laugh it off. But scattered across the field, pockets of viewers stare glassy-eyed.
Their jaws slacken. Their fists clench.
“Why, oh why, not you?”
The screen cuts to WHITE.
A beat.
Then—
ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE.
A shirtless man in Section 14 lunges at the person next to him, tackling them into a metal barricade. A vendor flips over their cart. Two women brawl on top of a food truck. A ring technician convulses behind the LED panel.
It spreads like fire—but not everywhere. Just enough.
Security rushes forward, but they're drowned in confusion. Staff scream into radios. EMTs push through rows of bodies. A flare is launched. A speaker tower tilts.
Some fans continue to cheer, unaware. Others try to climb the barricades. Yelena is gone, leaving only James Shark left alone in the ring, disoriented, eyes flicking from crowd to the video screen.
The video plays again.
This time it’s faster. More jagged.
“If bloodstained things can sing…
Why, oh why, not you?”
Police on horseback move toward the perimeter. Too late.
The crowd is not unified in riot.
It’s fractured—into the aware and the unaware.
Those who saw too much, and those who don’t yet know what’s inside them.
One million witnesses.
Only a few thousand infected.
That’s all it ever takes.
- - -meanwhile at the exact same time- - -
At the base of the 40 foot tall XWF corporate sponsorship logo, we see Dolly, Corey, Flynn and Schism
They’re all looking on nervously as the massive crowd is beginning to unravel from the subliminal messaging they were shown.
Ok, boys? We’ve REALLY gotta’ hurry the hell up!
Yeah. This crowd is turning into something really bad, really quick.
Schism produces a large remote control, like the one Doc Brown used for the Delorian. Sweat forms along his brow as he engages the ON-SWITCH.
c’mon, c’mon, c’mon Flynn urges him nervously as he looks out to the brawling crowd that's spreading closer and closer to them.
Schism titles his head up, the reflection of the giant XWF monolith, the symbol of all that is wrong in the world is shown in the reflection of his aviators.
Cleanse eden of its weeds, oh tempest… show me the Big Rock Candy Mountain.
Press the damn button, Schizz!
Schism grins and pounds the big blinking button on the remote and…
….
……..
………………..Nothing?
Ummm…?
Isn’t there supposed to be a big fiery explosion?
Schizz?! You paid the guys who were supposed to rig that thing to blow, RIGHT?!
Of course! I paid em all-right… with Big Rock Candy Mountain Coffee Co-op discount cards.
FUCK! Why in the hell would you - - -wait! Flynn looks even more panicked now Where’s my kid? WHERE’S WAR-BABY???
LOOK!
In the distance, ontop of the XWF logo, is NKWB. He’s laughing and clapping his hands, playing with the male and female connection to the explosion rig.
SHIT SHIT! HOW’D HE GET UP THERE?!
He must’ve climbed up the staircase in the back!
Everything slows down…
Dolly is sprinting toward the logo…
NKWB is connecting the rig…
NO!!!!!!!
Dolly’s hand is reaching out, tears in her eyes, when beside her…
*BLINK*
ALIAS…
He smiles and then…
*BLINK* - - - The rig is connected - - - and NKWB is on the ground, in ALIAS’ arms.
Flynn takes NKWB from ALIAS and squeezes him tight in his arms.
The crew all looks up as the rig detonates.
The massive XWF corporate sponsorship logo erupts in explosions, and becomes engulfed in flames. Suddenly the massive crowd stops brawling, and the world turns to see… hope.
And my ain’t beautiful…
The structure fully detonates and a firework display erupts behind it.
The crew all turn with a smiling nod to one another.
The crowd transforms from chaos and fear, to gaiety and joy.
- - -back in the ring- - -
Shark nods his head confidently, celebrating under the light of the firework display.
He reaches down to grab the Universal Title and raise it again… but it’s gone!
In all of the confusion, someone must’ve swiped it!
…and running through the commune fields, laughing, with the Universal Title on his shoulder?
Charlie Nickles.
-the end-
Thanks everyone for your patience!
A special thanks goes out to our match writers:
Mark Flynn (x6!!!!!!)
Charlie Nickles
Maverick
Yelena Gorgo
Segment writers:
Corey Smith
Thunder Knuckles
Yelena Gorgo
James Shark
Charlie Nickles
And thank you to everyone RPed and participated…
HAPPY MAYDAY!
4x XTreme Champion (1x as Misty Waters)
3x Television Champion
3x Tag Team Champion (w/ Vita Valenteen, w/ Charlie Nickles, w/ Madison Dyson)
2x Hart Champion
4x Star Of The Month
August '24(As Misty Waters), August ‘21, May ‘17, October ‘16
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