06 - 19 - 2025 LIVE FROM SOUTH BROADWAY ATHLETIC CLUB ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI JACKSON HART - vs - JC KEETON Singles XXXVI - vs - FRANCES MARIGOLD X-Treme Rules INQUISITION - vs - RAZOR BLADE w/ LATOYA HIXX Singles MR OZ - vs - DAMIAN SANTOS Singles LARRY TACT - vs - ATARA RAVEN Singles SUMMER PAGE - vs - SIR LIONEL PENNYFARTHING Singles Anarchy Tag Title Match Them No Good Bastards BOBBY BOURBON & THUNDER KNUCKLES © - vs - THUGS Traditional Tag "KING" JUSTIN YORK - vs - JAMES SHARK Non-Title Singles CHARLIE NICKLES - vs - MICHEAL GRAVES (conceivably) Easy Way Out cage match The only way to win the match is to walk out of the cage door! Winner gets a new item on XWF shop.com! (Non-Title)

Plumes of Blue and White pyrotechnics shoot out from tubes around the makeshift entry ramp on the stage and mark the start of our show. Finally, after the fallout of REBELLION, XWF has returned to SELL OUT the full 550-person capacity (and maybe a few extra, don't be a snitch) of the historic South Broadway Athletic Club for this edition of Thursday Night ANARCHY!!! Even still, there are hundreds, nay, millions more who are watching and streaming LIVE from their homes!!!

As soon as the pyros finish, "Lithium" by Nirvana hits over the speakers, officially welcoming XWF fans to yet another edition of their favorite syndicated full-contact wrestling show, which we lovingly refer to as "The A-Show".

The Anarchy announce team is at ringside, preparing for a night filled with action!!  With "Lithium" still playing over the speakers the cameras pan around to those few lucky and avid members of the Anarchy faithful from all ages, races, creeds & colors screaming on the tops of their lungs, proudly wearing their XWF Merchandise and holding up signs for their favorite (or least favorite) stars:

WE'RE BEGINNING TO CONCEIVE... ALLEGEDLY

GIVE US SHARK WEEK

THE GUY BEHIND ME CAN'T SEE CHARLIE NICKLES - LOL

WHO NAMES THEIR KID XXXVI?

I AM #TACTALIZINGLY #VILAROFIT

ALL EYES ON SUMMER SZN

WE ALREADY MISS YOU BAMA T.!

F*CK FATTEUS DUKE #XWFRadio

THE GUY IN FRONT OF ME CAN SEE CHARLIE NICKLES - LOL

IF THE THUGS WIN - WE RIOT. IF THE THUGS LOSE - WE STILL RIOT!

The fans inside the Athletic Club are murmuring and ready to get the massive NINE match card of XWF’s Anarchy underway! They have packed the hall hours before bell time, taken time to pass by the local Professional Wrestling Wall of Fame, and they're more than anticipating how this night could add even more plaques to that (in)famous wall.

The hard cam pans around the arena catching glimpses of the excitement in the hall.

TODD: Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to THURSDAY NIGHT ANARCHY! As always, I am your host Todd Moschitti, and not-at-all-like-always, I'm being joined by my new broadcast partner for the evening, our new, uhm general manager? Uhm, I guess it's an honor to have you - Jimmy Stars!

STARS: You're damn right it's an honor, Todd. But the honor and the pleasure are all mine.

TODD: No offense, Mister Stars. But shouldn't you be in your office?

STARS: Please, just call me Jimmy.

TODD: Alright, Jimmy. Shouldn't you be in your office?

STARS: See, that's the thing about me, Todd. I'm a down-in-the-trenches, hands-on kinda guy. Besides, who could ever replace the LEGENDARY Bama T.? No one. That's why I'm out here, taking one for our team.

TODD: Okay. Well, I suppose that's nice of you. There's a massive card up ahead. One of XWF's larger shows at a billed nine whole matches. And I was wonder-

Jimmy cuts Todd off.

STARS: The promotion by our super STARS has been crazy, too! Nearly everyone had their piece to say on social media or whatever. Things you love to see: this.

TODD: Yes, that's absolutely true. Lots of good promos. Just like every other XWF show. But what I was going to ask you is that if there were any matches that you, our new General Manager, are particularly interested in?

STARS: Oh, all of them, to be honest with you. It's a new era, yada yada, no one really cares. But I'm telling you now, like I'm telling the entire Anarchy Locker Room: there's opportunities to be had. Anarchy is growing and there isn't a single member on this roster that I don't have my eyes on. Starting with Hart and Keeton, and ending with our Conceivably Conceivable Anarchy Champ "Conceivably" Micheal Graves and our new Universal Champion, "The Nickleman" Charlie Nickles.

TODD: Cool. Well, tonight we start out with a double debut, as Jackson Hart takes on JC Keeton to see who can come barreling out of the gate with momentum.

STARS: Uh huh, uh huh.

TODD: Then we have the mysterious XXXVI taking on Frances Marigold in an Xtreme Rules match. Marigold must be pleased, he’s got a real chance at picking up the W here with the stipulation being, seemingly, in his favor. That’s not to count out XXXVI at all though-

STARS: I know. I know.

TODD: Ohh kayyy. Then we have-

STARS: A match even I didn’t expect!

TODD: Really? Why?

STARS: NO ONE EXPECTS THE INQUISITION! Haha, yeah!

TODD: …you mean the Spanish Inquisition?

STARS: Oh shit, really? My bad. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive, Senor Inquisitiones!

TODD: Ugh. Well Inquisition has to get the ball rolling quick and decisively tonight as he takes on Razor Blade with his American Storm Tag Team Partner Layota Hixx to cheer him on at ringside.

STARS: Dos y uno!

TODD: No. It’s still a singles match.

STARS: Si?

TODD: You booked it!

STARS: Si!

TODD: Then it's Oz versus Damian Santos. I think the kid could learn a thing or two from Oz in the ring, if he lasts longer than he did in his debut, that is.

STARS: Who?

TODD: Damian Santos or Oz?

STARS: I know OZ. Jesus, Todd. I’ve seen the movie. Anyone can tell he’s a wizard. No, I’m talking about the other guy.

TODD: He’s the one who fought Doctor Holly Cambric in the preshow-

STARS: OH! The one who showed up drunk to the ring?

TODD: He did not show up drunk, he was drugged!

STARS: Ugh. The kids these days. They’ll do anything to catch a buzz.

TODD: That’s… not what happened at all.

STARS: It’s sad, really. Back in my day we used to drink warm beers straight out of the box and-

TODD: THEN we have the “Tactalizing One” Larry Tact vs. Atara Raven in what’s sure to be an instant classic. I’m sure the fans here in the Athletic Club are stoked to be witnessing two legends from wildly different backgrounds battle it out like it’s the beginning of their careers all over agai-

STARS: Look, that could be the Main Event of any other Anarchy, too. But I love Atara Raven and I love Larry Tact. The only two people I love more are the core fans and the target demographic. And since that’s the case, this isn’t our main event. We’re gonna keep on rollin’ baby, you know what time it is!

TODD: Anarchy Stalwart Summer Page puts her undefeated non-title match streak on the line against Sir Lionel Pennyfarthing!

STARS: I don’t know what a Pennyfarthing is, but okay!

TODD: It’s a man. He works for you?

STARS: What else is new! I came to see Summer Page, is what the fans are saying. All Eyes On Us? Perhaps we get a little preview of Summer SZN here tonight!

TODD: Are you… okay?

STARS: Sure am, Tim!

TODD: That’s… reassuring.

STARS: We Got Them No Good Bastards… The Reigning… Defending… Bashmaster-Approved Anarchy Tag Team Champions Valiantly Defending Their Battle Earned Straps Against Not A Thug, Not Thee Thug, But The Thugs! Plural!

TODD: …

STARS: And We Cap It All Off With A Pair Of Championship Showcases! Justin York, Our Very, Very Canadian Revolution Champion Will Go Swimming With The Shark. Nothing On The Line But Pride… But Pride Goes Far, Todd!

TODD: Then in our main event, we have a steel cage match. But I got to be honest with you, Jimmy, the ceilings here at the South Broadway Athletic Club in downtown Saint Louis, Missouri aren’t that high. Is it even possible to fit a steel cage in here?

STARS: We’ll make it work!

TODD: How? You can’t just… say… things…

STARS: Dunno! Not my problem! But We Got All These Superstars, Plus The Universal Champion Charlie Motherfluckin Nickles And Purportedly, Preposterously, Surreptitiously Micheal Graves Under This Very Roof! So if we could achieve that, then the cage is going to fit. I promise it will fit… even  if I have to make it fit my damned self!!

TODD: You’re in a wheelchair.

STARS: It’s a mobility scooter you f-

BEHIND THE BUILDING

In the rear parking lot of the historic South Broadway Athletic Club in St. Louis, Missouri. TK's new Camero screeches to a halt. The doors swing open, and out steps Bobby Bourbon and Thunder Knuckles, the crowd of 500 pops because the biggest stars of Anarchy have arrived. As the Bastards walk toward the door, a fresh-faced interviewer comes running up like a guy trying to cancel his bar tab.

"Oh wow! Thunder Knuckles! Bobby! Hold up, just one quick question for the XWF audience."

"Who the hell are you, Bama Jr.? Get out of our face. We’re not here to get stuck in another of your ‘exclusives’."

"I got this, Bobby."

"I’ll be in the locker room when you’re done."

Them No Good Bastards exchange a no-look fist bump before Bobby walks off.

"You know, Bama Jr.… usually I’d tell you to take that mic and shove it up your ass."

Bama Jr’s (Not His Name) gulp is audible.

"But tonight? Nah, tonight I got something to say. So I’m sitting at home, minding my own damn business, cracking open a cold one, watching some clips of the beating me and my tag team partner Bobby Bourbon put on Game Girl. When someone sends me this cute little interview, and there he is, folks. Justin York, sitting under soft lights, hair all moussed up, looking like a backup dancer for Nickelback, saying he'd like to face yours truly, Ol' Thunder Knuckles."

TK cracks open a beer he pulls from the pocket of his sleeveless denim jacket, takes a long, disrespectful drink, and belches without apology.

"You’d like to face me? That’s sweet. Really. That’s like a goldfish saying it’d like to go ten rounds with a goddamn shark. Let's keep it one hundred, York. This ain’t some fantasy booking podcast. You don’t get to wish your way into the ring with me like you have a magic lamp that you rub three times and a genie pops out. You opened your mouth, and now I'm kicking in your fucking door."

He tosses the beer can off-screen.

"But I ain’t doing it for fun. I ain’t doing it because you’re cute when you cry on Twitter. I’m only doing it for one reason. That little trinket you wear around your waist. The Revolution Championship. You know, that belt you’ve been holding so tightly like it’s your support dog."

He yanks off his Pit Vipers, staring with violent intent.

"You wanna face Thunder Knuckles? Then cough it up, bitch mouth. Put the belt on the line, or get back in the kiddie pool where you belong."

TK chuckles, then points directly at the camera.

"It’s time your Canadian ass took a trip on the Ohio Turnpike. Straight into the deep end, no lifejacket, and no way out. You practically begged for this, York. You asked for the devil, and now he’s at your door with a steel chair and a beer buzz. So next Anarchy, you either show up with that Revolution Title and put it on the line… or you shut your damn mouth and keep dreaming about what it's like to  be relevant."

TK throws up some gang signs that he learned in the hood to represent Them No Good Bastards.

"One way or another, I’m walking out with that belt, York. And all you’re gonna be walking out with are three L's. A loss, a limp, and a fucking lesson. Now, if you excuse me, Bama, me and Bobby are going to get ready to be the only champions defending tonight."

RINGSIDE

STARS: HEY! That No Good Bastard cut me off!

TODD: Sucks, doesn’t it?

STARS: I’ll give Thunder Fuckle a pass, this time. Hahaha. Bama Junior. That one’s gonna stick, I bet.

TODD: Isn’t the important part that TK just challenged King York for the Revolution Title, Jimmy?

STARS: I mean, I guess. I ain’t had the job for five minutes, and everyone out here already thinking they can do it better than me!

TODD: But you’re out here doing MY job!

STARS: That’s because I’m the best goddamned commentator you’ve ever seen, Rodd.

TODD: IT’S TODD!

STARS: Hey man, chill out, relax! Let’s take this to commercial break and let Todd compose himself for our first match. It’s going to be a long night!

TODD: Sitting next to you now… I can already tell that’s true.



TODD: Folks, we’re starting off this show with a bang! In PWV, these two spit daggers at each other! It’s spilled onto X, where the two have sub-tweeted AND tagged each other!

STARS: And did you see what they said about each other to promote this match? They went ALL-OUT! And if you missed it? You can rewatch their promos on the XWF Network app!



“Tyler Herro” by Jack Harlow hits the speakers and the arena lights shift into pulsing red and white strobe effects. Jackson Hart steps out onto the stage, smirking, spinning an Ace of Hearts card between his fingers.

He walks with slow, confident swagger, mouthing lyrics to the beat as he flicks the card at the camera with pinpoint precision.

TODD: Jackson Hart! This man created the highest expectations for himself when he said the last two Anarchy champions AND every Revolution champion in the belt’s history weren’t up to his level! And he promised to wipe Sean Parker’s face off the XWF Twitter’s Anarchy logo and become the face of Thursday Night wrestling!

STARS: I love a sales pitch! But, any businessman knows you gotta see the product in action before you buy! I’m intrigued at what the Ace of Wrestling, the young man who made Chi-Town Wrestling the talk of Chicago’s wrestling scene can do! But, it’s all puff until you’ve got some wins under your belt!

Ring Announcer: “Making his way to the ring… from Chicago, Illinois… weighing in at 190 pounds… he is ‘The Ace of Pro Wrestling’… JAAACKSOOON HAAART!”

Jackson slides under the bottom rope, climbs to the second turnbuckle, spreads his arms wide like a king basking in the spotlight, and mouths to the crowd: “You’re looking at the whole damn show.”



A deep bass rumble hits first—like the distant crack of a thunderstorm rolling over farmland. The screen flickers to life with vintage home video clips: grainy footage of a young JC in headgear wrestling in dusty high school gyms… riding horses… before fast-forwarding to JC lifting the IWF world title!

BLACK SCREEN.

A burst of golden-white pyro erupts from both sides of the entrance ramp!

JC KEETON bursts through the curtain with laser focus. He doesn’t slow down. No theatrics. No posturing. He walks with an athlete’s gait—loose shoulders, tight fists, jaw locked, eyes burning forward.

He doesn’t look left or right. Just straight down the aisle, headed straight for the ring.

TODD: JC Keeton may be entering his first match in the XWF, but he made a huge statement at Rebellion, interfering in the champion versus champion match between Revolution champion Justin York and Anarchy champion “Micheal Graves”... allegedly.

STARS: York had broken every rule in the book to get to that point, but in that moment, he had ‘Graves’ right where he wanted him! He might’ve been just seconds away from becoming Anarchy’s first ever double champion! But JC Keeton, York’s employee back at PWV stuck his nose in and took it all away! Will York get his vengeance on Keeton and stick his nose in this match? Don’t touch that dial!

TODD: It’s 2025. Who has a dial on their television anymore?

STARS: Who has a TV?

TODD: Fair? Maybe?

STARS: Don’t swipe left on us, kids! Or is it right?!

At ringside, JC stops just before the apron. He finally lifts his head and stares at the ring—his eyes scanning the ropes like a battlefield. Then, with one quick inhale through the nose, he hops to the apron in a single fluid motion.

He wipes his boots, then steps through the ropes and immediately climbs the second turnbuckle, not to pose—but to look across the crowd, as if searching for someone who still doubts him.

TODD: JC Keeton! The son of Jake Keeton! A two-time world champion in wrestling countries around the world!

STARS: But he’s never won belts in the XWF, Todd! This is where the big boys play! This is where every talent in the world wants to compete! And only one of these men is leaving their very first match with a mark in the win column!

…

The official steps between the competitors, giving them instructions…

Jackson Hart stands in his corner,  eyes locked on JC Keeton like a lion watching a rival predator. He rolls his neck, exhales sharply through his nose, and flicks an Ace toward his opponent.

Across the ring, JC Keeton bounces lightly on the balls of his feet. His face betrays no smirk—only cold, quiet intensity. His jaw is clenched tight, a flicker of tension around his eyes. He barely blinks.

TODD: These two men are very similar, but very different! Both got into wrestling in their teens! Both are second-generation talent!

STARS: But Jackson Hart was the young star of his father’s wrestling promotion, Chi-Town Wrestling… Meanwhile, Jake Keeton was calling every promoter in a two-hundred-mile radius, telling them not to give JC a shot!

TODD: Very different roads to get to this match, Jimmy!

The official signals to the timekeeper…

DING DING!

JACKSON HART - vs - JC KEETON Singles Match

TODD: And we’re off! These two men got PERSONAL in their promos! So get ready for this one to pop off quick!

STARS: You’re not kidding, Todd! Jackson said JC would never escape his father’s shadow… AND brought up JC’s dead mom! Meanwhile, JC said no one gives a SHIT about Jackson Hart, not even HIS mother!

TODD: Both claim the other is the first step on their journey to dominating Thursday nights!

STARS: And dominating insults on their opponents mothers as well!

Jackson circles first, eyes narrowing as he beckons JC forward with a lazy wave of the fingers. A little arrogance to bait him. JC doesn’t fall for it. Instead, he lunges in low.

JC shoots the hips, fast—too fast—for a clean sprawl. JC grabs Jackson’s leg. Jackson’s eyes flash wide, surprised by JC’s speed, and he shifts weight with practiced reflexes, sprawling just enough to stop JC’s momentum!

TODD: Both these men have wrestled since childhood! These are two young men with decades of experience combined!

STARS: They barely have decades combined!

As JC tries to brute force Jackson onto his front, Jackson rolls through the takedown attempt, wrenching into a front facelock, his biceps clamping down.

JC’s eyes flick with tension, but he doesn’t panic. Instead, JC rotates into the grip and slips out with sharp precision, twisting behind Jackson’s back into a rear waistlock. JC tightens his grip  on Jackson’s waist and smirks, cocking his head toward the crowd.

TODD: Beautiful chain wrestling on display here, Jimmy! Look at the instincts, the fluidity—JC has Jackson’s back already!”

STARS: Don’t blink, Todd!

TODD: Or I’ll miss the moment one of these men secures control?

STARS: No, Nielsen ratings are based on eyeball tracking technology now, NEVER LOOK AWAY FROM THE RING! This has gotta be the highest-rated Anarchy in XWF history!

TODD: …that can’t be true.

STARS: I have it on good authority, Tidd.

TODD: Tidd’s not even a real name. Who told you this?

STARS: Dwayne “The Grok” Johnson!

TODD: …

STARS: What?

Jackson’s nostrils flare. His hands shoot down, and he grabs JC’s wrist. He steps behind and reverses the waistlock, smoothly transitioning into a hammerlock. Jackson’s mouth curls in satisfaction now—momentum recovered. Jackson jerks JC’s arm upward, just enough to feel he’s established control!

TODD: Jackson Hart takes control in the opening sequence!

STARS: Don’t speak too soon, Todd!

JC winces, eyes narrowing. He shifts his weight and drops to the mat, quickly turning his body through Jackson’s hold, and transitions into a wristlock of his own, rising back to his feet as he twists Hart’s arm behind his back.

The crowd oooooohs aloud at JC’s technical prowess!

TODD: …Wow, great prediction, Jimmy! JC finds a way to counter out of Jackson’s wristlock into one of his own!

STARS: A certain captain from the future who shall not be named may or may not have tipped me off of a few things going down here tonight.

TODD: Is that so? Wristlocks being on the top of the list?

STARS: No.

Jackson grits his teeth, the flicker of frustration rising behind his smug demeanor. He tries to roll through—JC follows!

Jackson tries a standing switch—JC counters again, moving step for step.

TODD: Rapid counters! Each man attacking, countering, and attacking! This is like blitz chess if chess pieces were fists!

STARS: That’s called parity, Todd. And you know what parity is? I used to think it was the word for a live action remake. But actually it’s PRIME FOR MARKETING. Give me a rivalry like this and I’ll sell merch until my office has a helipad!

Jackson yanks his arm free and snaps into a side headlock, wrenching it tight with a grimace. He mutters something under his breath. JC doesn’t answer, but instead shoves Hart to the ropes.

Jackson bounces off, looking for a clothesline!

…But JC ducks the first rebound!

Hart rebounds back off the ropes on the opposite side!

JC leapfrogs—smooth, vertical leap sky high.

TODD: Wow! Scope that vertical leap!

STARS: That’s at least ten or fifteen feet, Twod!

TODD: No, it isn’t!

Hart comes back, bouncing off the ropes once more!

JC latches his arm around Hart’s, seeking! a hip toss—

But Jackson rolls over, lands on his feet mid-rotation, and immediately shoots behind JC, goes for a backslide pin!

TODD: Ah! Hart looking to steal this one!

ONE!

TW-NO!

STARS: Not even a two-count off that one!

JC rolls through the backslide! As Hart tries to get back to a verical base, Keeton hooks both Hart’s arms…

TIGER SUP-No!

Instead, Jackson fights out with sharp elbows to the temple, snapping JC’s head sideways. JC staggers backwards into the ropes!

Jackson backs into the ropes and sprints forward…

Discus Back Elb-NO!

JC ducks it with a quick drop step!

TODD: Wow! Both these men seem to know every counter for what the other’s gonna do!

As Jackson rebounds back off the ropes, JC aims a decapitating…

CLOTHESL-...NO!

Jackson juuuuuuust ducks under the arc of JC’s rising forearm!

JC spins around as Jackson rebounds off the ropes again, before leaping through the air!

RUNNING KNE-...NO!

JC evades, spinning out to the side!

TODD: This sequence is absolutely insane! Who’s gonna hit who first?!?

STARS: I don’t know, I don’t remember!

TODD: I meant now!

STARS: I said I don’t know! I don’t remember!

They both sprint for the ropes!

And they both have the same idea!

RUNNING CROSS-BODIES!

…

They both connect! And collide to the mat!

TODD: A successful hit for both men! But it’s not clear who took the worst of it there!

…

Both men crash to the mat, their bodies thudding at the same moment.

A beat of stillness as the crowd rumbles excited with the technical exhibition they’re seeing…

And then—

KIP-UPS IN STEREO!

THE CROWD ERUPTS!

TODD: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! THEY KIPPED UP AT THE SAME TIME!

STARS: This goes beyond athleticism, Todd. This is pure SPITE. That’s two egos colliding in the air and refusing to hit the mat for long. It makes it so much easier to keep my eyes on the ring! No blinking!

TODD: Neither man giving ground. Neither man blinking, but not for the Nielson ratings. This is what it looks like when two rising stars try to eclipse each other.

The crowd is buzzing after the double kip-up. Jackson Hart and JC Keeton close the distance again, their movements sharp, coiled like sprinters at the gun.

They lunge toward each other again—!

Jackson gets the first grip, wrapping JC in a collar-and-elbow tie-up—but instead of wrestling clean, he rakes the forearm across JC’s mouth, muttering something cruel and low enough to keep the camera guessing…

TODD: Oh! The audio didn’t pick up what Jackson just said to JC… but you can imagine JC didn’t like it based on the look on his face!

STARS: Note to self. Mic up the ring…

JC’s face contorts with rage, eyes flashing white-hot fury—he shoves Jackson off violently, then shoots in with his trademark explosive first step!

TODD: They are not just wrestling anymore. They are trying to embarrass each other.

STARS: You ever seen two stars try to outshine each other mid-supernova? You have now, baby!

Jackson tries to bowl over the speed demon Keeton with a…

CLOTHESLINE!

…NO!

Instead, JC snatches Jackson’s arm and drags him into a…

SNAP ARMDRAG!

…NO!

Instead Jackson rolls through, springing to his feet, and returns the favor with a…

SNAP ARMDRAG!

Connects!

TODD: A point to Jackson Hart!

STARS: Are we supposed to be scoring this?

JC scrambles to his feet from near the corner where Jackson flung him… Jackson tries to follow up, latching his arm around Keeton’s for another armdrag…

But instead, Keeton latches his grip around Hart’s wrist! He scrambles backward up the turnbuckle and twists in mid-air with flair!

ROPEWALK ARMDRAG!

Connects!

TODD: This is rapidly turning into a game of ‘anything you can do, I can do better!

STARS: But they CANNOT be equally matched, Todd! One of these men WILL eventually outdo the other! STAY LOCKED IN ON YOUR SCREEN, viewers at home! NEILSON CAN SEE YOU TOO!

TODD: No, it can’t.

STARS: Shut up, Tim!

Jackson lands hard off Keeton’s arm drag, eyes wide, surprised by the flourish… Keeton leaps for a dropkick…

INCREDIBLE VERTICAL LEAP!

TODD: Did Jackson get like… four feet of air there?

STARS: At least twelve by my count!

TODD: …

STARS: Enter this kid in a dunk contest already!

DROPKICK!

…NO!

…Despite Keeton’s incredible hops, Jackson manages to slide to the side! Keeton eats mat!

The crowd gasps!

TODD: Never thought of that before, but when you can jump that high, missing a dropkick can be like eating mat from a move off the turnbuckle!

STARS: Live by the hops, die by the hops, Todd!

Keeton covers his face, trying to get back to a vertical base…

But he rises straight into Hart’s arms!

SNAP DDT!

…

Connects!

JC’s head snaps to the mat!

Immediately followed by Hart kipping up off the mat!

EGO TRIP!

The crowd oooohs and claps, as Hart reaches into his tights and tosses another Ace of Hearts into the crowd!

TODD: How many tricks… and cards… does Jackson Hart have up his sleeve?!?

STARS: Remember fans! Visit the merch table after the show for Jackson Hart card decks! Every deck has fifty-two aces of hearts!

TODD: Makes go fish kinda pointless if you ask me.

STARS: War was intense, though!

Jackson stalks behind JC now, eyes sharp, the performance dial turned up to eleven…

Keeton woozily rises up to his feet, clearly still feeling some effects to his noggin after that DDT…

TODD: Jackson Hart looking for a win here in his debut!

Hart steps toward the ropes, rebounding up—clearly ready to hit the…

ACE IN THE HOLE!

…

NO!

As Hart wraps his bicep around Keeton’s skull, Keeton turns his body and hooks his arms around Hart…

BACKSLIDE!!

TODD: Oh my! Keeton looking to steal this one!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-NO!

JACKSON KICKS OUT!

Jackson explodes to his feet in frustration…

…Just as JC springs off the ropes…

Leaping through the air!

TODD: LOOK AT THESE HOPS!

ODE TO THE OUTLAW!!! (Leaping Leg Lariat)

…

CONNECTS!

Jackson’s head snaps back, body twisting mid-air before crashing to the mat like a ragdoll!

TODD: HE NAILED HIM! ODE TO THE OUTLAW FROM NOWHERE!

STARS: That looked like getting hit by a lightning bolt!

JC hooks the leg tight. His teeth are clenched, face dripping sweat and venomous satisfaction.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!

WINNER: JC KEETON

TODD: JC Keeton just staked his claim in the XWF—and did it by outplaying, outlasting, and outwrestling Jackson Hart in a match that was as personal as it gets! But, you have to imagine… If the variables play out a HAIR differently… a roll of the dice… or an Ace on the river… And this one easily could have gone Jackson Hart’s way!

STARS: This match wasn’t clean, Todd. It was messy. It was petty. It was brilliant. And I already know—this is not the last time we’ll see these two lock horns. You don’t get closure from something like this. You get chapter one.

TODD: You need an absolute banger out of your opening match to set the tone for the rest of the evening, and regardless, these two absolutely delivered for you there, Jimbo. You have got to be beyond impressed with both young talent.

STARS: Never. Call me that. Again.

TODD: Sorry? I couldn’t hear you over the roar of the crowd, Jimbo!


STARS: This ain’t over!

TODD: Sure it is! Folks, we’re rolling right along onto our X-Treme Rules match for the night!

STARS: Fine. But hey, listen, they don’t call us the X-Treme Wrestling Federation for nothing, Thom! This is where the chains of morality and ethics are cast off in favor of AUDIENCE ENTERTAINMENT! Don’t touch that dial, you sickos, you’re about to get exactly what you tuned in for!

TODD: You have a thing for these dials.  - - - BUT WAIT! WHAT'S THIS???

The broadcast feed shifts, and we’re back…stage?

Back…hall?

BACKSTAGE - IS WHAT WE'RE CALLING IT

At the Broadway Athletic Club in St. Louis. The 500 seat, 10,000-ish square foot arena.

There’s a curtain partition separating the kitchen from a more intimate, more… arousing area of the arena.

There’s a “knock”, or something more like a RAP– RAP— RAP on the curtain.

The camera turns to see the owner of this soundless fist…

THE CROWD POPS!

It’s none other than the XWF Anarchy Champion, “Allegedly” Micheal Graves…

He keeps knocking on the curtain, making little progress in stirring the attention of whom or whatever might be on the other side.

There’s no way “Graves” can be making much sound

RAP–RAP–RAP

His fist bats against the curtain,

The dense clattering throughout the mess hall is extremely noisy, and even louder still, from behind the curtain we can hear…



But nevertheless… a head pops out from behind the curtains. It’s forehead becoming a surface to turn the –RAP–RAP–RAPs into some -THUNK–THUNK-THUNKs–


BARRY MASTERSON: Hold FIRM old boy! Daddies yet to lather up!

FORMER…Former? ANARCHY GM BARRY “THE BASHMASTER” MASTERSON APPEARS FROM BEHIND THE CURTAIN

...

Barry finally takes a good look at the man knocking on his head,

Oh! By the heavens, it’s MY… ehhh… my former champion

Uh… I think that’s actually ‘current champion’, Bashman. ‘Graves’ lifts the Anarchy title on his shoulder.

Haha, of course, YOU’RE still current! But I’m on my way to being former!

’On your way’? ‘Graves’ nods ”Excellente! While you’re still around, Bash’o… I need your help - - - Quick!

Around? he steps fully through the curtain Oh, yes…I’ve been around for a long, LONG time…

He leans into Graves’ ear

...and I can’t quite *get off* the ride.

‘Graves’ is snapping his middle finger against his thumb, laying his hand just infront of Bashy’s face,

Focus, Barold. Follow the sound of my voice to planet Earth.

He keeps snapping… As Barry looks off in the middle distance forlornly…

…’Graves’ sighs. Come on, brown Barr… Ol’ ‘Gravy’ needs ya.

My… he quivers with sadness, sinking his head, ...former champion? Needs me? ANYTHING!

‘Graves’ eyebrow twitches irritatedly. Look, Mastronaut… I don’t care who you work for or who I work for… As long as we’re both aligned toward worker’s rights? I’ll always be YOUR champion. So fuck that former shit.”

…’Graves’ clears his throat. ”But, on the subject of ‘XWF shit’... Just checking, you still technically are … from what I understand… in a position of power here? Yes (please-say-yes)?

Power… he chuckles ...I’ve knowing nothing but power all of my life, from my head to my…

Graves rubs at his temples,

...please say to your toes…

Bashy bursts into laughter, putting a hand on Grave’s shoulder, leading him behind the curtain

No, my boy! To my loins!

...oh my god.

Power is abhorrent, it corrupts, my dearest Gravy. It is for this reason I have taken a step back into a more…. he waves his arm out at the room before them ...PRINCIPLED roll

There’s literally an orgy of six or seven taking place.

Damnit! Barry, for sixty FUCKING seconds… LOCK IN.

“Graves” tries pulling Barry back through the other side of the curtain, but Barry pulls back. Unrelenting, glowing, thirsting to share his decadent drink of passion with an old friend,

Fine, FINE!

I’ll “FOCUS”...

“GRAVES”

Flynn “Graves” gasps… before straightening his belt on his shoulder.

”Oh, Baraldo… Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the old… ‘Flynn is Graves, Graves is Flynn’ fake news, conspiracy theory! You saw me wrestle Mark Flynn at WarGames! How could we be the same guy?“

Still won’t confess, even as our partnership closes? Barry sighs bittersweetly. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you for… whoever you claim to be. if not for you, my Bashtastic brand of Anarchy would’ve been… STERLING SHIT. What can I do to help you?

Flynn exhales,

Dolly Waters… heard of her?

Hmm… now I’ve had my fair share of fun with a dollie or two in my time but–

No, no! DOLLY! D-O-L-L-Y WATERS. The wrestler.

OH! The cute girl? She’s perhaps- he eyes his friend up and down, -a little too spry for you, old boy.

Goddamnit.

NO!

Her contract has been… *temporarily* (he means INDEFINITELY) suspended, by that.

Criminal!

I KNOW! It’s retaliatory malfeasance! That’s why I need you, Supreme Court Masteriuce, to reinstate her!

Barry spares no thought…

ABSOLUTELY!

“Graves” pumps his fist. YES!

...would have, old boy! If my GM contract hadn't expired several minutes before you walked in.

…

...What?

Indeed, sport. Had you asked literally two minutes ago, I could have done anything your heart decided… Darn shame!

TWO MINUTES!?! It took me like FIVE minutes to get you to stop talking about your loins!

Speaking of which… Bashmaster wriggles his eyebrows seductively. Now that I’m not your employer… Perhaps we can address the unspoken SEXUAL TENS-

WHAM! Pieface! ‘Graves’ shoves Bashy back behind the curtain!

”...FUCK.”

…

”Eh.” ‘Graves’ shakes his head, before walking down the hallway. ”Still a better GM than Sterling…”

RINGSIDE

TODD: Apologies for that interruption, folks!

STARS: Apologies? Why is that turd still showing his face on my sh-

TODD: Hold it right there, Jimmy… We still like Barry, even if he never remembered any of our names. And I’ve gotta’ say, to hear our champion asking for Dolly Wa-

STARS: No, NO! Just stop. I don’t care. And neither does anyone else.

TODD: Actually I think a lot of people care-

STARS: Time for the next match!



Full black.

The stage alights in red. Smoke gathers around the stage. Gods by Sleep Token plays as XXXVI appears, rising up out of the red lights amidst the smoke, his hands gathered in prayer. He steps out onto the stage and takes in the mixed reaction from the crowd. He shakes his out his head and shoulders and begins to walk down the ramp, hands still in prayer pose. Half way down, he spreads his hands apart and reaches out both arms in T-Pose as he crouches, sauntering down the rest of the ramp toward the ring.

TODD: Here is the mysterious XXXVI! He made his presence known at Rebellion, attacking Inquisition after a 36-second countdown timer appeared on the X-Tron!

STARS: We know he’s here! But what we don’t know is why! Will we get answers tonight?

XXXVI climbs onto the apron, extends his arms and then enters, rolling backward over the top rope and spins toward the center of the ring, arms outstretched like a helicopter. He then sits, cross legged in the dead center of the ring, hands once again in prayer pose and bows his head. Full black again, then a single, red cone of light bathes him in the ring as fire explodes out of each turnbuckle.



As Nirvana's Tourette's blares through the loudspeakers, the cameras pan around the arena looking for Frances Marigold in the crowd…

TODD: And here is Frances Marigold, who… well…

STARS: Is an absolute trainwreck and I can’t stop watching him! Ratings, Throg! My eyes are glued wide open!

TODD: Oof. Well, Marigold has been drunkenly stumbling through matches since his debut a few short weeks ago! While he hasn’t been traditionally successful, he has been absolutely dynamite to watch!

STARS: Like a youtube video of a drunken bear chasing a balloon by a cliff! It’s horrifying if what I think will happen happens… but I can’t bring myself to look away!

TODD: You look at weird stuff, man. Just saying.

STARS: That is very subjective of you.

TODD: No. It isn’t. Anyway, I digress because our camera is… taking an extra long time to find Frances Marigold, who tends to enter the ring from the crowd…

STARS: Well, maybe they should check the ramp, Todd!

Indeed! For once, Marigold actually emerges from the X-Tron… With a shopping cart of weapons!

Frances Marigold stumbles half-dressed down the ramp, dragging the rusted cart like it’s his guitar... The cart’s wheels squeal.

TODD: Look at what Frances brought with him! Kendo sticks! A dented bowling ball! A rusty stop sign on a pole, like he just plucked it out of the ground! Two-by-fours! …With questionable stains...

STARS: Frances brought everything but the kitchen si-... Wait, no, he also brought a kitchen sink!

Indeed! A kitchen sink hangs off one side of the cart by a chain, dragged along the ramp…

He parks his shopping cart of violence ringside… Before reaching into the cart…

TODD: Frances wisely selecting a weapon before he enters the ring with XXXVI! He could go kendo stick… Or he could go two-by-four… Or…

STARS: He’s reaching deep in there… And coming out with…

…

STARS: A six pack of beer!

Marigold grabs a six-pack of gas station beer from inside, and—with two fingers and no concern—rips the plastic rings, cracking one open and chugging. He’s barely upright, eyes bleary but somehow too intense.

TODD: ...The man brought a kitchen sink, and started with a beer. This is a cry for help disguised as a wrestling match.

STARS: Frances might wanna get it in gear of XXXVI will have him crying for help!

As Frances chugs his first beer… Crushing it against his skull… The official barks at Marigold, ordering to get in the ring so the match can start!

Frances… Raises his middle finger!

And cracks open another beer! And starts chugging it!

TODD: Is Frances planning on chugging that whole six-pack before the match?

STARS: Every talent has their own pre-match routine, Todd.

The official continues to bark at Frances to get in there!

…But inside the ring… the masked Enigma, XXXVI…

Bounds toward the ropes!

TODD: Oh! It looks like XXXVI has no intention on waiting for the bell!

XXXVI leaps!

TOPE SUICIDA! XXXVI goes hurtling through Frances Marigold!


CRASH.

Beer goes everywhere!




Their tangled bodies tumble into the shopping cart. Its contents go everywhere! Metal shrieks. The kendo sticks scatter like matchsticks. The bowling ball rolls under the ring. The stop sign bounces off the floor and into the front row. And the kitchen sink? It clangs to the ground with a finality like the ringing of a dinner bell in hell.

STARS: This match hasn’t even started and it’s already completely gone off the rails!

From inside the ring, the official shrugs and signals to the timekeeper!

FRANCES MARIGOLD - vs - XXXVI Singles Match

TODD: And we’re off! Both competitors are outside the ring, but this is X-Treme Rules! No disqualifications! Falls count anywhere!

XXXVI, agile and breathless, rises first from the wreckage. His body tenses, breath sharp under the mask as his eyes flick across the ground for a weapon…

TODD: Very wise by XXXVI! Weapons have no loyalty and it looks like XXXVI is going to use some of the toys Marigold brought against him!

After a brief search, XXXVI spots it—a splintered two-by-four, one end duct-taped, the other jagged….

Frances scrambles woozily off the mat… He grabs…

TODD: Finally, we might see Frances do something related to winning this m-

A dented beer can from the six-pack…

TODD: Oh c’mon!

STARS: Frances Marigold is nothing if not consistent, Todd!

TODD: Consistently drunk?

STARS: If it fits, it ships!

TODD: I… don’t know what that even means.

…Frances shoves the beer into the pocket of his pants… And then…

Yanks up the stop sign—still attached to the bent steel pole, the red paint flaked with rust and mystery stains!

STARS: Some intersection in Saint Louis is more dangerous than it was when Marigold drove by it on the way to this very South Broadway Athletic Club!

…The two competitors turn to face each other, now each armed…

XXXVI nimbly rotates his two-by-four in his hands…

Frances sways once, burps audibly, and grins like a man too stubborn to die, as he smacks the pole of the stop sign in his hands…

TODD: I don’t even know how to describe this match…

STARS: I do. This is a samurai duel in a gas station parking lot. The masked monk versus the drunken demon.

XXXVI crouches low, two-by-four raised like a bokken...

Marigold stumbles drunkenly… And XXXVI takes the initiative—

XXXVI strikes—
Whack! to the ribs.
Thwack! to the thigh.
Crack! across the shoulder!

TODD: If you were expecting an even duel, it looks like XXXVI is the more skilled swordsman!

STARS: I dunno, Todd! Frances is getting hit, but he ain’t going down!

Indeed! Frances stumbles from XXXVI’s strikes but doesn't fall. His body absorbs the punishment like punching a couch cushion!

XXXVI brings the two-by-four down… But Frances sidesteps… And wildly swings!

Frances swings the stop sign—

THWACK! Direct hit to XXXVI’s side.

TODD: Oh my! Frances Marigold is on the board!

XXXVI’s body crumples from the stop sign attack! XXXVI drops to one knee, gritting his teeth, the two-by-four barely held in his fingers.


Frances burps, before steadying his stance… He lurches forward with another slow, looping swing!

STARS: God… this is what I think it would look like if a zombie played company softball…

TODD: You know, I’d invite you to play on the XWF softball team, but…

STARS: I swear to God, Todd.

TODD: What?

STARS: Not only could I play, I’d whoop your fucking ass, just like Frances is whooping Roman Numerals right now!

Frances brings the stop sign down!

…But XXXVI narrowly dodges!

XXXVI rolls through, comes up behind Frances, who’s still struggling to re-lift his stop sign.

TODD: He got a decent strike in! But that stop sign might be a bit too wieldy for Mister Marigold!

STARS: Who the hell says ‘wieldy’ in 2025?

TODD: Well don’t touch that dial we haven’t used for thirty years and you might find out!

Frances launches another wild arching swing…

But again XXXVI sidesteps!

Then—using the momentum—he spins in close and launches a swift upward smack with his two-by-four…

Right onto Marigold’s hand! Marigold drops the pole!

TODD: Masterful disarming move by XXXVI!

Frances blinks. Looks at his empty hands…. Like he’s still processing what just happened.

…

“Shit.”

XXXVI doesn’t hesitate. He winds up—

His back arches, knees bend, every fiber in his body tightens—]

CRAAACK! The two-by-four explodes against Frances’ forehead with an audible crunch. Splinters rain into the front row by the ramp! Frances’ body goes limp. He collapses flat on the steel ramp, arms splayed like a rockstar at the end of a concert set!

TODD: What a strike by XXXVI!

STARS: That was like watching a guillotine in slow motion! Frances Marigold just got taken to church by a flying piece of lumber!

TODD: It’s his cross to bear, apparently!

XXXVI, after the thunderous blow with the two-by-four, drops his weight across Frances Marigold’s chest. Hook of the leg, shoulders down…

The official scampers through the ropes and drops to make a count!

The crowd rises, counting along—

ONE!

TWO!

THRE—KICKOUT!

TODD: WHAT?!?

Frances jolts a shoulder up just in time, eyes rolling, a loose grin stretching across his blood-smeared face.

STARS: HOW!? This man’s brain is oatmeal! That should’ve been three, a funeral, and a wake!

XXXVI doesn’t argue. No wasted motion. He slides off, breath sharp, gaze focused like a sniper's, as he turns toward the weapons scattered around the ringside like a hunter choosing his slaying blade…

That’s when he sees them. Twin kendo sticks. He twirls them in each hand with trained precision, the handles gripped tight, his feet gliding forward like a ghost dressed for battle.

TODD: This XXXVI is a relentless hunter! Ultra Focused on bringing down his opponent!

STARS: Triple-X-Vye was a great pickup by yours truly!

Meanwhile—Frances crawls up the ramp like a man crawling out of a bar at 4AM, flails until his hand lands on something..

Spherical…

Cold…

…

The bowling ball.

TODD: Oh my…

STARS: If Frances was looking for an equalizer? I think he just found it!

A twisted smile splits Marigold’s face. His head cocks to the side like he just remembered an old joke…..

“Hehehehe… strike…”

Marigold slowly peels himself off the ramp, bringing up his new friend with him…

When XXXVI rushes in from behind…

CRACK!

CRACK!

XXXVI delivers alternating Kendo stick strikes to Marigold’s back!

Frances arches, howling, his whole spine vibrating like a tuning fork.

He slowly stumbles forward—retreating—staggering blindly to the top of the ramp.

Another pair of strikes! CRACK! CRACK!

TODD: XXXVI is trying to bring Frances down with those kendo sticks like one might bring down a blood simple animal with a cattle prod!

STARS: But I don’t think XXXVI realizes Frances is packing a bowling ball!

Frances reaches the top of the ramp, XXXVI stalks him from behind… And the scene’s caboose, the official, follows behind XXXVI, arms out, barking orders, trying to maintain some semblance of order1

When Frances turns—suddenly, violently.

And hurls the bowling ball like an olympics shot putter!

[blue]TODD: Oh God! That could take the masked man’s face clean off!

Even through his mask, XXXVI’s eyes go wide as the bowling bowls arcs his direction!

…

…..

HE DUCKS OUT OF INSTINCT!

The ball misses him by inches—

—and LANDS into the referee’s foot with horrifying force.

KERUNCH!

TODD: Oh my GOD! The official might have just gotten crippled!

STARS: …*ahem*

TODD: …oh uh… I mean.

STARS: He may have just joined us on team handicapable!

TODD: Yes, but isn’t that a bad thing for the company?

STARS: My checks will still clear. Otherwise it will no longer be “my company”.

The official collapses to the ramp, cradling his surely-broken foot, screaming for help!

Meanwhile, Frances stares at the screaming man… Like, he’s trying to remember if he did that…

When, WHAM, XXXVI catches Frances with a boot to the skull! Frances staggers backward toward the X-Tron!

XXXVI, breathing heavy but eyes sharp, tosses the kendo sticks aside…

TODD: If Frances’s aim was to introduce chaos into this match, it looks like XXXVI thrives in an environment like this! What a miscalculation!

Frances burps, shaking his head woozily near the entrance curtain…

As XXXVI wrenches his arm around Frances’ neck… And whips him onto the metal ramp!

SNAPMARE!

TODD: We’re a little over four minutes into this match and I think that’s the first thing you could call a wrestling move we’ve seen since the bell rung!

STARS: Wrestling moves? In a wrestling match?!?

TODD: What a concept!

STARS: I made this Xtreme rules for a reason. Get that shit outta here!

Frances sits on the ramp, cradling his neck… As XXXVI takes a few steps back… And charges forward!

BASEMENT DROPKICK! Marigold cradles his spine collapsing onto his front!

TODD: This one’s starting to look academic! XXXVI simply outclasses Frances Marigold!

…Frances quasi-consciously sputters on the mat… As XXXVI grabs him by the waistband and drags him back up to his feet…

Waistlock!

GERMAN SUPLEX ONTO THE RAMP!

Frances lands in a drunken pile of denim and bad decisions, rolling over with a dazed smile on his face.

TODD: This is starting to feel inhumane! XXXVI isn’t even out to win, he’s out to hurt Frances Marigold!

STARS: Well, what else is he supposed to do, Todd? Sit on his hands? He can’t win without a referee out here!

The crowd erupts as a second referee emerges from the curtain from the back, flanked by medics pushing a gurney…

TODD: It looks like we have our backup official… AND a medical team to help the first official!

The first official waves them over, desperately trying to hold his obliterated foot together…

Meanwhile, XXXVI picks up Frances by the scruff of his neck…

…BUT!

Running on instinct, Frances shoves XXXVI backwards!

His body goes onto the gurney, which slips out of the first aid team’s hands!

AND ROLLS OFF THE SIDE OF THE RAMP!

TODD: OH MY GOD!

The crowd gasps—

XXXVI goes soaring ten feet through the air, entangled in the gurney, limbs flailing before CRASHING hard to the floor below in a tangle of metal and limbs.

STARS: Frances just YEETED his opponent off the ramp using a medical device!

TODD: Could this be Frances Marigold’s first victory in his XWF career?!? He just has to climb down and pin XXXVI!

Frances teeters at the edge of the ramp, squinting down at the wreckage. He lifts his arms like a symphony conductor gone rogue.

TODD: …Noooooo. He can’t be thinking about…

STARS: I don’t think Frances has ever thought about anything he’s ever done!

Frances reaches into his pocket, grabs the beer he snagged right after the bell rung…

Chugs it down.

And crushes the can against his skull!

TODD: PLEASE DON’T DO IT! OH GOD!

Frances stumbles back a few steps. Breathes in. Then launches himself into the air…

OFF THE STAGE!



The drunken rocker majestically sails through the air!

FRANNIE’S REVENGE!

…

NO!

XXXVI rolls out of the way at the last second!

Frances CRASHES full-body into the metal scaffold and concrete below, bouncing with a horrible smack. His spine jackknifes. He lets out an awful, breathless moan.

STARS: Jeezus CHRIST! Marigold just hit the concrete like a piñata full of expired cough syrup!

TODD: He might have just joined your team handicapable-

STARS: Shut the fuck up, Todd.

XXXVI, barely conscious, barely functional, crawls forward…
He drapes an arm across the limp carcass of Frances Marigold.

The new referee briefly thinks about going down there.

…

Nah…

Remaining up on the ramp where it’s relatively safe, the official kneels cautiously and slaps the steel with authority.]

ONE!

TWO

THREE!

WINNER: XXXVI

The crowd explodes. EMTs rush to both men, but XXXVI raises a shaky fist in the air from the wreckage. Frances lies flat, smiling to himself, as blood pools under his skull… completely unaware of what just happened.

TODD: What an absolute pile of carnage and broken bodies! I don’t think the Athletic Club has seen this kind of barbaric action in quite some time, and I dare the local promotions to try to top this!

STARS: He doesn’t mean that. Todd, repeal your last segment. Don’t dare these kids. They eat Tide Pods for less.

TODD: You’re probably right. Best to leave these things to the professionals, kids.

STARS: Yeah! Sign a contract first. Then come let us kill you under our banner. I get my 6.9 percent cut that way.

TODD: Ugh.

BACKSTAGE

The scene opens backstage where Summer is speaking to some of the production staff about her entrance, going over different camera angles. Suddenly some of the staff see someone behind her and silently walk away mid-conversation. Summer raises a brow and slowly turns around only to see none other than James Shark who’s met with a mixed reaction from the fans reacting in the arena.

Shark: “I went out and laid an egg at Rebellion? The fuckin’ nerve on you. You just as fake as them!”

Shark points out towards the arena, eliciting some boos from the audience, Summer rolls her eyes.

Summer: “I call it how I see it.”

Shark: “Yea well you look at that flaccid, little wiener Craig and see… man we don’t know what the fuck you see. Your vision ain’t exactly all good.”

Summer yawns.

Summer: “Done yet? I think that green substance you got injected with at Warfare made you dumber.”

A vein starts to appear on Shark’s forehead as he steps closer to Summer.

Shark: “Listen here you plastic bimbo, I rode with you to the damn hospital. Encouraged the hell outta you whenever you was down about your losses. Offered to CARRY you to success in the tag team division. But you???? You ain’t return shit did you!? Couldn’t even give up some throat. You so mad you got jumped backstage!??? You deserved worse than what you got. I should have took my sweet ass time gettin’ to you. You deserved to get bent over and PENATRATED with that goddamn barbed wire bat.”

Summer’s mouth drops open in disbelief, she instantly frowns and gets right in Shark’s face, chest to chest, showing him she doesn’t fear him. The two of them stare at one another intensely as she looks up at him with neither breaking the stare. They were staring one another down so intensely and close to one another that anyone walking by could get the wrong idea.

Summer: “You know what, James? You’re a liar, manipulator, asshole, piece of trash AND nobody likes you.”

She nods her head towards the arena.

Summer: “Not them. Not me. And certainly not your own family.”

Shark’s eyes go wide with shock and anger at the same time. The two of them keep their eyes locked at one another before Shark quickly throws a straight punch right towards her face. Their’s a HUGE sound of impact but it’s only the sound of his palm hitting the wall as he stops himself right at the last second. Summer had her eyes shut tight, expecting to eat that shot, she slowly opens it and sees him glaring at her with his hand on the wall.

Summer: “You wonder why I kept things professional between us? Take a long look at the mirror.”

Summer ducks underneath his arm and begins to storm off as Shark watches her leave.


STARS: Holy fuck.

TODD: That was heavy.

STARS: That was awesome. You go get you some!

TODD: You can’t be serious.

STARS: You’re damn right I am! I’M DECLARING IT THE OFFICIAL START OF SUMMER SZN!

TODD: Let’s… cut to commercial.





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.

STARS: SENOR INQUISITIONES!

TODD: Jesus.

STARS: It’s pronounced Hey Zeus.

TODD: No. No it’s not. There’s no Spanish Inquisition. It’s just Inquisition!

The eye-rings around his mask glint in the light, and you can almost feel him smile through it.

STARS: Say that to his face, senor!

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 the entrance way.

TODD: Inquisition looks primed and ready to go here tonight.

STARS: Don’t call it a comeback. Or a redemption arc. Inquisition may be primed, but there’s a Storm. Coming. In. Saint Louis. Missouri!



The lights goes out and hear a voice saying Wrestling has one royal family and when 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 and he saw a kid wearing a Blake shirt and he takes off his American nightmare belt off his waist in hands it to the XWF fan and 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 him to the ring, remaining outside the squared circle to support Razor Blade.

TODD: What a class act.

STARS: Lifetime achievement award winner.

TODD: Gave his American Nightmare belt to the kid in the Blake shirt.

STARS: Who the fuck is Blake?

TODD: Maybe he thinks it’s a Blade shirt.

DING! DING! DING!

The match starts with high velocity offense from Razor Blade, as the "American Nightmare" barrels out of his corner like a bullet from a gun! He's on Inquisition in no time, taking the fight to the masked man. Blade unloads with a flurry of punches and elbows that force Inquisition back against the ropes, then Blade irish whips Inquisition into the ropes and drops him with a shoulder check on the rebound. Inquisition quickly scurries up to his feet, but Razor Blade is there waiting for him. Razor catches Inquisition with a running bulldog, driving both men down to the mat! Latoya Hixx cheers on her teammate outside the ring, getting the crowd involved by leading a "RAZ-OR!" chant.


Razor hooks the leg as the referee drops to make the count!


1!


KICKOUT!

TODD: Quick kickout by Inquisition there.

STARS: I’m surprised that Blake even got a one count there.

TODD: Well, you know that Inquisition promised to unravel the surface-dwellers, including Razor Blade here tonight. He’s not going to go down easy.

STARS: No, I’m legitimately surprised Raisin Blade got a chance to pin this dude’s shoulders to the mat. He moves around the ring like a…

TODD: Sleep paralysis demon?

STARS: gasp…YES!

Inquisition kicks out hard, shoving Razor off with authority. Undeterred, Razor drags him up and whips him hard into the corner, following it up with a punishing clothesline! Inquisition slumps into the corner, and Razor hoists him up for a quick snap suplex back to the center of the ring! Inquisition clutches his lower back as the entire canvas shakes!

STARS: Alright. Full stop.

TODD: What?

STARS: Do I have to give Raisin Blade credit? That snap suplex was sick!

TODD: Well, yeah. The American Nightmare is in peak physical condition. As is his partner at ringside.

STARS: Damn shame, really.

TODD: Why do you say-

STARS: Because-

TODD: No. Nevermind. I don’t want to know.

Razor Blade gets back to his feet quickly, and he tries to drag Inquisition up with him: but the masked figure is too quick! Inquisition sweeps Blade's feet out from under him, causing him to crash back to the mat. Inquisition then charges back towards the ropes. Razor Blade quickly gets back up to his feet, only to be met with a dropkick from Inquisition! Both men fall back to the mat, with the momentum shifting into Inquisition's favor!

TODD: More of those paralysis demon-like movements!

STARS: You think he’s got the pigeons hidden under the ring or something?

TODD: Man, I really don’t know. Inquisition looks like he lives under the ring.

STARS: Fucker is unnerving. That’s for sure. Variety is the spice of our brand, Flod.

TODD: And The American Nightmare is our backbone!

Latoya continues leading crowd chants, but nothing the crowd says seems to help Razor out inside that ring. Inquisition begins picking him apart like a slab of meat. Inquisition delivers a slew of strikes and kicks to his grounded opponent before locking in a headlock on Razor Blade. Inquisition squeezes tight, and it looks like Razor is getting close to the edge of consciousness, with no rope break in sight.

But Latoya Hixx continues leading crowd chants!

And this time...they actually seem to be working!

TODD: The crowd seems to be really getting behind Raisin Blake here. Damnit, now you’ve got me doing it.

STARS: 550ish people packing this Athletic hall, and a good portion of that are kids. So of course, they look up to Blade and Hixx because they share the same grade in elementary school.

TODD: What do you have against nice people?

STARS: …you literally just put the answer in the question.

With the support of the crowd, Razor Blade slowly works his way back to his feet despite the tight headlock. As the crowd chants, stomps, and claps in tune with Latoya Hixx, Razor Blade struggles and fights back to his feet. Then, once both men are standing, Razor Blade runs to the ropes, forcing Inquisition to release the hold and go flying forward! The crowd is on their feet cheering for Blade as Inquisition hits the opposite ropes.

Razor Blade prepares a scoopslam for Inquisition, but the wily coyote has other plans!

Inquisition decks Razor Blade with a lariat that nearly takes his head off!

STARS: Aha! And there goes your momentum you bum.

TODD: That’s not very-

STARS: Say it.

TODD: On second thought. We’ve got to have the American Nightmare Razor Blade and The Storm Layota Hixx teaming up for our next episode of Anarchy. It would be on brand for them to feature on the 4th of July eve celebration!

STARS: I mean, I can put a flag on my hover round. It really don’t mean anything.

TODD: That’s because you don’t represent anyone or anything but yourself.

Latoya Hixx screams bloody murder at ringside as the fans stand there stunned. Razor Blade was finally taking back the momentum, but now, the Inquisition is back in charge! Inquisition delivers another slew of blows to his grounded opponent as Latoya Hixx looks on helplessly, covering her gaping mouth as stands there with a shocked face. Inquisition pulls no punches, beating on his grounded opponent in the most devastating of fashions!

Inquisition surveys the building, getting a sense of the crowd's awe. Inquisition looks down at Razor before turning his head towards Latoya. Inquisition smirks, before he hits the ropes hard, rebounding back....and running right past Razor Blade.....

SUICIDE DIVE TO THE OUTSIDE!

Latoya sees it coming and tries to scramble, but Inquisition is too fast! He soars through the air like a missile and takes her out with brutal precision! Both bodies hit the barricade hard as the crowd pops like crazy, and Inquisition is back on his feet in no time flat.

TODD: Holy guacamole! Did you just see that?

STARS: No one expects the Spanish Inquisition to go flying through the ropes like that!

TODD: …

STARS: Yes, I saw it. I loved it. And now I’m a fan.

TODD: You… had Layota Hixx come out here tonight on purpose, didn’t you?

STARS: …maybe.

TODD: You bastard!

Inquisition quickly climbs up the ringside apron before making his way atop the turnbuckle. Then, Inquisition leaps from the air and back into the ring with a magnificent moonsault! Inquisition gets so much air that he nearly collides with the ceiling- but thankfully he doesn't!

HE JUST COLLIDES WITH RAZOR BLADE!


Inquisition hooks the leg!



1!




2!!!




KICKOUT!!!

STARS: No effin’ way!

TODD: RAZOR BLADE IS STILL IN THIS! HE HAS THE HEART OF A CHAMPION JIMBO!

STARS: I’LL CUT YOU!

Somehow, someway, Razor Blade still has some fight left in him! Inquisition can't believe it, but this crowd can! The crowd once again begins chanting 'RAZ-OR!", this time unprovoked by Latoya: who is still laying flat on the canvas outside the mat!

TODD: No, you won’t. Cause that would qualify me for workman's compensation!

STARS: …fair point.

TODD: You need to be paying attention to the match, just like Inquistion needs to be paying attention to his opponent!

Inquisition slams the mat in frustration as Razor Blade slowly begins to stir. Razor crawls over towards the ropes, but Inquisition stalks him like a predator, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Razor Blade uses the ropes to help him get back to his feet, but he's looking dazed and confused. Razor takes a wobbly step away from the ropes as he looks around for Inquisition...but it's too late! Inquisition is already positioned behind Razor Blade, and as Razor takes a few more wobbly steps, Inquisition grabs him from behind!

TODD: The movements are unreal!

Inquisition pulls Razor Blade into Justicia's Cross, a crucifix bomb into a pin! The crowd goes nuts as Inquisition pulls out his big move for the first time live on XWF: Anarchy!

STARS: Raisin has no chance! He just got snatched right up into Justicia’s cross!

TODD: Cover!

The referee makes the count!



1!





2!!






3!!!

WINNER: INQUISITION

TODD: Well, if that’s what Inquisition is capable of, then I think he just put the Anarchy locker room on notice!

STARS: He just put me on notice. I gotta hide all of my valuables. And lock the basement at home.

TODD: I heard you live in a trailer.

STARS: Oh yeah, that’s right. I don’t have a basement. Thank god.

TODD: Layota Hixx is helping Razor Blade back to the back. There’s always next week for them. But for us, there’s always the next match!


TODD: “Up next, folks—what a clash of momentum versus malice! Damián Santos, the clever, calculating upstart, versus the raw force of nature known as Mister Oz!”



The sound of a record screeching to a halt echoes around the arena as Kendrick Lamar's voice begins to boom through the PA system.

"NOBODY PRAY FOR ME!"

"IT BEEN THAT DAY FOR ME!"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAY- YEAH! YEAH!"

HUMBLE begins to play in full as Damián Santos bursts out through the camera with a full head of steam, talking shit to the camera before posing with vigor. He looks ahead to the ring, letting a smile spread on his face as he walks down to the ring, shadow boxing as he does so to keep himself focused.

TODD: Damián Santos had a less than stellar debut at Rebellion… Against Doctor Holly Cambric, he was jabbed with a mysterious syringe moments after the bell rung… And from there, it was academic.

STARS: You only get one chance to make a first impression with your audience, Todd, and young Damián did not nail his. Damn these kids and their designer drug addictions.

TODD: But, this is his first match on Anarchy! And you know what they say, Jimmy! Any given Thursday, with the right plan and execution, you can pick up a big win! And he’s not a drug addict. He was poisoned.

STARS: You expect me to believe that?

TODD: It happened live in front of 70 thousand people!

STARS: You expect me to believe them?

Damián rolls under the bottom rope to come into the ring, finding the far turnbuckle as he climbs upwards to soak in the boos. He finds the nearby camera, flexing his muscles again before hopping down into the ring. He lets the referee pat him down for any weapons, nodding to them before giving them a friendly reminder to be sure to do the same to his opponent before the match begins.



Oswald stands amidst an indie metal band, watching the ring, looking at the band. Soon a choir is heard as the band begins to play his theme song. He walks towards the lead guitarist, clapping him gently on the back so as to not mess up her playing. Oswald walks down the ramp, the bottom of his white cloak dragging along the ground. Once at the ring, he'd leap onto the apron before launching himself to show how strong and agile he was to lift such mass with such ease right over the top rope and de-cloaked himself, placing it in his corner before stretching out his arms in a lower case t and roaring out to the crowd before going and sitting on top of his cloak, awaiting the bell as he mentally plans out the match, as well as how to try and beat his opponent.

TODD: Speaking of the Rebellion pre-show, Oz looked absolutely DOMINANT at Rebellion! After a close back-and-forth fight with Inquisition at MayDay, Oz went to town on the bizarrely violent and violently bizarre creature and won their rematch in exacting fashion!

STARS: And you know what I think inspired that rage? That focus? FURY! Oz has been one of the monsters of the XWF for years and he gets shoved onto the pre-show! I don’t know who made that error but Oz punished Inquisition for it at Rebellion… And he might not be done doling out punishment…

TODD: Look out, Damián!

As Oz slides into the ring, Santos starts pointing and demanding the official check him for weapons1

STARS: Santos clearly learned his lesson from last time! Doctor Holly Cambric snuck in a weapon for his match, and he’s not letting that happen twice!

TODD: Now you’re admitting it?

STARS: Admitting what?

TODD: That Holly drugged Santos?

STARS: No, she didn’t. If he wasn’t so drunk on bath bombs or whatever, Doctor Holly wouldn’t have been able to attack him with that syringe!

TODD: …

…The official approaches Oz….

Who stares ominously down at the meek man in black-and-white stripes… Before offering his wrists for inspection…

The entire time the official inspects Oz though… Oz is staring daggers at Santos! Santos bobs lightly from foot to foot. His lips are pursed in measured breath. His eyes dart to Oz’s legs—scanning, strategizing.

TODD: I think Oz feels like Santos may have just impugned on his honor as a competitor by suggesting he’d need to bring a weapon to the ring…

Satisfied that their search turned up nothing, the official signals to the timekeeper!

MISTER OZ - vs - DAMIÀN SANTOS Singles Match

The moment the bell rings, Damián lunges forward suddenly with a quick low kick, ker-ACKING against Oz’s thigh!

TODD: Oh my! Santos typically describes himself as a counter-attacker but he’s starting out swinging!

STARS: I think Dame knows if he lets Oz take a swing and it comes anywhere close to connecting? This match ain’t gonna last long!

Oz’s hand shoots to cover his thigh, backing up a step… Santos follows up with a kick to Oz’s side… Oz’s hand shoots to cover there… But by then Santos has also circled to take Oz’s backside, stomping down on his calf!

TODD: Santos’ strikes are precise and tactical—he’s trying to take out Oz’s base early!

STARS: You wanna bring down the biggest redwood in the forest? It’s gonna take a lot of strikes! But this redwood can strike back, Druggie Dame!

TODD: He’s not a drug addict!

STARS: How do you know?

While Oz’s jaw flexes as Santos’ kicks land, his eyes never flinch. His massive body barely shifts with each blow.

Oz delivers a backfist!

…That Santos narrowly ducks under! Santos tries to surprise Oz by zooming from behind back to Oz’s front and launching another kick to Oz’s obliques…

…But this time, Oz catches Santos’ boot!

TODD: Uh oh!

Damián’s eyes widen. He hops on one foot, trying to yank his leg from Oz’s grip…

But Oz YANKS Santos forward…

And LEVELS him with a SHOULDER BLOCK!

Santos goes flipping end-over-end…. twice!

TODD: Whoa! What an impact! Oz hit Damián like a freight train!

STARS: Oz hit him like the fifteenth puff of canned air!

TODD: …

STARS: Not that I would know.

Damián lays on the mat, wincing, clutching his ribs. His head rolls sideways to locate Mister Oz—too late. Oz yanks him up by the wrist like he’s a paperweight!

…Santos’ face contorts in shock… As Oz’s expression is tight with the tension of unspoken rage.

Oz pauses, staring down, putting the fear of GOD in Santos…

Before exploding into action, scooping Santos in a front-facelock!

He heaves him into the air, in suplex position…
…

Hoooooooooooolds him aloft!

…

Oz actually executes a knee-bend, while holding Santos perfectly vertical in the air!

TODD: Oh my God! Oz is doing squats mid-suplexing Damián Santos!

STARS: That’s right OZZY, get your workout in!

Damián’s face contorts midair—shock fading into panic, as Oz extends his body out of the squat.

…

…Aaaaaaaaaaaaand!

WHAM!

Like a jackhammer plowing into concrete, Oz PLANTS Santos into the mat!

Delayed Vertical Suplex!

TODD: The strength of Mister Oz! The sheer power! That move was a STATEMENT!

STARS: And the statement is: You should’ve put me on the damn main card!

TODD: He’s got a point.

…Damián groans, rolling to the ropes, desperation painting his face in sweat and grit. He grabs the bottom rope like a lifeline, and as Oz approaches again, once more gripping Santos by the scruff of the neck…

But this time, Santos jabs his thumb in Oz’s eye! Lightning-quick!

Oz covers his face, staggering back! As the crowd boos, the official squints… having missed the illegal maneuver that took place right in front of him!

TODD: Santos calls himself the heeliest heel to ever heel! He masterfully blurred that eye poke in with a defensive reach!

STARS: Hey, don’t knock it! That’s guerrilla marketing—get eyes on you by attacking eyes! Hurts the Neilson ratings a bit, but the kids brain is like the fried egg in that drug commercial.

TODD: The Neilson ratings system does not work like that!

Oz staggers for a beat, blinking rapidly. Damián seizes the opening—he runs the ropes and leaps…
CROSSBODY!
…
NO! Oz catches Santos in midair!

TODD: Oh dear! Santos had a brief window of opportunity, but he’s once again wound up in No Man’s Land!

STARS: At this point, I think anywhere inside a ring that Mister Oz is also in? Is No Man’s Land! Perhaps Druggy Dame should take some LSD or something and escape to the metaphysical realm while he still can. Cause his physical ass belongs to Oz.

TODD: …

Damián’s eyes go wide—he kicks furiously, slapping at Oz’s head, desperately doing anything to escape...

But Oz gorilla presses Santos above his head in one fluid motion!

…

THEN DRIVES HIM DOWN ONTO OZ’S EXTENDED KNEE!

Gorilla Press GUTBUSTER!

TODD: WOW! What a maneuver!

STARS: That hurt just looking at it! It’s like a twelve step program all at once!

Santos rebounds off Oz’s knee, cradling his gut, struggling to breathe!

Oz raises an arm to the crowd and they screeeeeeeeeam for Mister Oz!

Damián now crawls to a corner, breathing ragged, wiping blood from his mouth. His face is a mess of pain and calculation.

Oz drops his arms… drawing a thumb across his throat!

TODD: Oz signalling that he’s ready to put Santos out of his misery!

Oz bends down over the broken Santos, going to grip him by the shoulders…

…

But Santos scrambles, crawling between Oz’s legs!

TODD: Unbelievable! Santos isn’t done yet!

STARS: Done fighting? Or done trying to survive?

Once he’s behind Oz, Santos reaches up, going for a schoolboy!

TODD: Santos has said he’s got the best schoolboy in the business! On the independent circuit, he’s stolen many, many matches with that schoolboy!

…

Here it comes…

…

Santos tugs with all his might…

…

Nope. Oz is a brick wall. Absolutely unmovable.

TODD: …Miscalculation by Santos. He can’t even budge Oz!

STARS: It’s like trying to roll a marble pillar! It ain’t happening! I don’t care how many drugs you’re on!

TODD: He’s not on drugs, damnit!

Oz looks down, insulted. Damián swallows hard, caught frozen in his foolish attempt. The crowd’s laughter stings.

Oz steps back, letting Damián fall onto his own back. He glares, then kneels beside the young man, who is now trembling beneath him. Damián raises a hand in pleading instinct.

Oz grabs him by the jaw.

Damián’s eyes dart—left, right—looking for escape.

Too late!

Oz jams his gloved fingers into Damián’s mouth and throat with a violent precision!

I FAILED YOU!

His eyes bulge with righteous fury. Damián thrashes, arms flailing—

TODD: I Failed You! It’s locked in! The Mandible Claw!

STARS: Oh my god—he’s not just making a statement, he’s checking this kid’s uvula for residue!

TODD: I… can’t even.

Damián’s legs kick desperately as Oz lowers him to the mat…

“I’m sorry…”

…The kicks begin to slow…

“I’m sorry…”

…Santos’ hands fall limp.

The official calls for the bell!

WINNER: MISTER OZ

Oz slowly releases the hold. His breathing is deep, methodical. He rises with slow dignity, standing tall over Damián's body. He doesn’t gloat. He doesn’t speak.

He stares into the hard camera—eyes burning with purpose.

STARS: That is the man who got bumped to the pre-show?! Well, I can PROMISE you, in the Jimmy Stars era of Anarchy, Oz will be getting the star treatment!

TODD: Agreed! Another absolutely dominating performance by Mister Oz! Keep up the amazing work, you machine.

STARS:  And Damian will be getting drug tested! That was a clear oversight on my part.

TODD: UGH.

STARS: It’s only because I care, Larry.

TODD: IT’S TODD!

A BRIEF INTERMISSION

TODD: Pardon me for my earlier outburst. Welcome back to XWF Anarchy. As many of you know, just 19 days ago at XWF Rebellion, our longtime color-commentator, and my dear friend BAMA T called his last match in XWF as the two of us had the pleasure of witnessing a THRILLER between King Justin York and the Alleged Micheal Graves.

STARS: ….

Jimmy appears to be lost for words in this emotional moment. That, or he’s eating crackers without trying to look like he’s eating crackers.

There’s crumbs on the hoveround.

TODD: I know it’s tough, Jimmy. But tonight, we’re taking the photographs… the still frames in our minds…. and we’re hanging them on a self in good health and good time.

So join us, as we take a trip down memory lane, and pay tribute to one of the greatest to ever call a match in this booth!

There's a hush over the crowd as a montage begins on the ANARCHOTron

TODD: …

STARS: …well that’s what I’m calling it…

TODD: Shh!



As the melancholy melodies of Green Day seep through the sound system, we hear:

OH, BAAAABY!



Eliciting a huge pop from the crowd as the video reel plays clips of the one, the only, BAMA T. and his trusted companion, Sassafras.

We see Bama smiling, feeding Sass treats from his letterman jacket.

We see Bama waving to the crowd, and then a shot of him making a funny face, first to Vinnie Lane, then the image morphs into Bama making the same face at Todd Moschitti.

---

Vinnie Lane: "AI versus a sentient Squirrel! Only on Anarchy, dude!"

Bama: "It would actually be sapient, baby! Since Squirrel 41 can speak and appears to work within some kind of hive mind. Ya see Vinnie!-

---

Vinnie Lane: “Jamaican Jimmy just barely kicked out!”

Bama: “His goose is cooked…mon!”

---

SCREE SCREE SCREE SCREE

Bama: "Dang, baby, what’s that sound?!"

Vinnie Lane: "I don’t know but it HURTS, dude!"

SCREE SCREE SCREE SCREE

Bama: "It’s them Bingo Twins, dawg."

Indeed, Da Bing Bong Twinzz are making their way to the ring…





We go to the ring where Alex Kincaid is already standing in one corner.

Bama: "Never a good sign when you’re already in the ring.”

Vinnie Lane: "I don’t even know who this guy is!”

---

We see a shot of Bama announcing his retirement, the crowd chanting “BAM-A! BAM-A!” as Bama holds back tears.

---

Vinnie Lane: “Holy crap! Sid just won the Anarchy Championship!”!


Bama: “Centurion can’t believe it! He was watching from the top of the ramp and just stormed off behind the curtain! WOW!”

---

BAMA T: "Sean Parker showed incredible skill and determination tonight. A well-deserved victory for the new Anarchy Champion! And before we go, I wanna say Merry Christmas to all our fans out there! Keep the spirit alive, baby!"

TODD: "Bama, remember, we've got a diverse audience celebrating all sorts of holidays this season. So, from all of us here at ANARCHY, Happy Holidays to everyone, no matter what you're celebrating!"

BAMA T: "You're right, Todd. Happy Holidays to everyone! Stay safe and enjoy the festivities!"

---

The video ends on a still frame of Bama, clutching Sassafras in one arm, and raising his other in the air with a closed fist.

TODD: …uhm *choking* ...hrm *sniffling* ...let’s get back to the… action..




"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:


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.

TODD: Larry Tact! Former Television champion and reigning star of the month!

STARS: Bastard making millions off of his Tactalizing Self-Help Program. Wouldn’t let me manage the logistics for a small cut.

TODD: Let me guess. 6.9 percent?

STARS: How did you…?

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 honeyed rasp of Atara's voice blares over the facility's PA in unison with those words appearing on the multitude of screens and displays littering the arena.

HELLO DOVES

The crowd pops and gets to their feet shouting in near total unison a single word.

OPA!

TODD:  Atara Raven! Wrestling industry royalty! Last time we saw her in an Anarchy ring, she won the X-Treme title from Dominick Strife, who we all thought was un-TOUCHABLE on Anarchy!

STARS: As Dom’s manager, let me assure you that that was a fluke and ninety-nine times out of one-hundred, Dom takes that match. But because Dom not only disobeyed me, but strayed from my path, he kinda had that one coming. Dumb kid.

TODD: That’s not very nice… wait. You’re not very nice.

STARS: Thank you. With that being said, Atara is capable of some incredible things when you underestimate her. I wonder if she needs a manager.

TODD: You’re the General Manager of our brand!

STARS: Oh, right.

Arena lights start to pulse in time with the music and multiple vertical streams of pyro erupt across the front of stage. Strutting with purpose Atara emerges from the back taking spot centerstage atop the ramp. Posing for the camera, a wink and kiss is given to the viewers at home.

Grunge walking to the ringsteps, she climbs and stops at the top to posture again for her adoring public. Hand on her hip, the Grecian moves to the middle of the apron to blows a final kiss to the camera and enters the ring through the middle rope.

LARRY TACT - vs - ATARA RAVEN Singles

The match-up between these two contrasting in-ring ideologies of Atty and Tact starts off with a nice showing of wrestling prowess. Both incredibly seasoned tacticians trade off with various grapples, lock ups and light slams.

TODD: OH! Atara Raven showing her in ring acumen here early. Flipping out of Tact’s collar and elbow, and bringing the big man down with a fireman's carry slam.

STARS: Does it look good? Sure. But is it effective? I’d beg to differ. Atara Raven might have all of the experience in the world… but Tact might have even more. It’s going to take a lot more than some fancy rasslin’ moves to put down Tact.

TODD: You mean like Aur-

STARS: Don’t you DARE say her FUCKING NAME.

TODD: Oh, touched a nerve, did I?

STARS: Tact. Tact tact tact tact tact.

TODD: So now you’re just going to repeat Larry’s name like a child.

STARS: You could talk about Atara Raven, you know, the Greek Goddess gracing you with her presence right here, right now, tonight?!

After Atty tries wearing Tact down with a headlock, the big man powers through, showing an incredible feat of strength by muscling Atty up and into a running powerslam. Her body thrashes off the mat.

TODD: That was one stiff powerslam there, Jimmy. Larry is looking to take control here.

STARS: It’s Mister Stars to you, you fuck.

TODD: You said earlier I could call you Jimmy.

STARS: I lied.

TODD: Okay Jimmy.

STARS: Are you ready to give me my due now, Todd? I know you’re not used to sitting with someone who actually has an eye for pro wrestling…

TODD: I don’t really appreciate you taking shots at Bama that way.

STARS: Shots? Heh… Nothing I say is a “Shot” I’m calling balls and strikes out here, bucko.

TODD: I haven’t seen any balls from you, Jimmy.

STARS: Ooh, we’re going to make a great team, I just know it.

Tact with the cover!


1!



2!!



ATTY STAYS ALIVE!

TODD: You’re out here being a little bitch. And yet there’s the Atara Raven we all know and love, showing true grit out there in the ring. Perhaps you could take a lesson sometime?

STARS: True Grit was a fictional western starring John Wayne. True Tact is what we’re watching here which is a non-fictional beat down of Atara, by the Tactilizing one!

TODD: But I thought you said Atara was a Goddess-

STARS: Changed my mind! It happens, Brod!

Tact seizes full control of the match. He hits a gut wrench suplex, a snap powerbomb, and a full nelson throw into the corner, where he begins ramming Atty over and over, shoulder to gut until she plops on her rear.

TODD: Look… say what you will, but this is Atara’s first time back in an XWF ring in months, and right now Tact, our star of the month, is clearly firing on all cylinders.

STARS: Months you say? Hmmm… hasn’t been long enough to look this bad.

TODD: You know, it wasn’t too long ago when the narrative around Larry Tact was about him shaking off rust and getting acclimated to the XWF’s pace. While he’s clearly done that now, make no mistake… Atty WILL learn from this, and she will get better… she always does.

STARS: *yawns* sorry, were you saying something?

After stomping a mudhole in Atty, Tact drags her limb body out of the corner. He climbs the turnbuckle…

TODD: Uh oh! Tact isn’t really a high-flyer!

STARS: The man can afford the risk here, Todd’o… CLEARLY!

He dives from the top rope with…



THE DIVE TO BLUE ELBOW DROP!!!!!!!!









— AND ATTY ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY!!!!

TODD: Clearly not!

STARS: Whatever… let’s just hope Larry didn’t break a hip.
   

Tact slams against the mat, and Atty leaps to her feet.

She trunks to the crowd and starts firing them up with an OPA chant. This gym is clearly behind the Aphrodite Incarnate. She belly dances, waiting for Tact to get to his feet, and just when he does?

A RUNNING HIP ATTACK!


And before he can fall?



GERMAN SUPLEX!



She bridges it into a pinfall!



1!







2!!








TACT ESCAPES!


TODD: Oh my, Atty nearly won this thing!

STARS: Bahhh… Never had a doubt.

TODD: Sure you did!

STARS: …

With Tact reeling, Atty again finds herself standing, clapping, chanting, dancing, DOVING UP HER POWERS!

TODD: She’s feeding off the crowd here, this could be dangerous!!


Tact gets to his feet, and Atty rushes in…




JUDGEMENT FROM PARIS KNEE STRIKE!!!!!








IS DODGED!




TACT SCOOPS ATTY UP ON HIS SHOULDERS AND INTO A TORTURE RACK!

STARS: Dangerous, indeed!



SIT OUT POWERBOMB!


TODD: TACTILIZER! TACTILIZER!

STARS: Calm down, dude. This is elementary.


Tact hooks the leg…




1!







2!!






3!!!

WINNER - LARRY TACT!

TODD: I’ve gotta hand it to you this time, Jimmy. You were right. Nothing was stopping our Star of the Month tonight. Larry Tact is on a roll!

STARS: Could you compliment me with something original, Todd? I hear things like ‘you were right’ and ‘good call’ and ‘damn you really know your stuff’ all of the time. Be courteous, will ya? Besides, Captain Future told me this would happen.

TODD: …

STARS: What?

TODD: You son of a-

The show fades to commercial as the ref raises Tact’s arm in the air.


TODD: Folks, this next match will be a sight to behold! These two competitors have never faced off before, literally anything could happen!



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.

STARS: ‘Spoiled’ Summer Page! Thoroughly marketable! And quasi-attached to former Universal champion, James Shark! What an asset!

TODD: But that friendship with James Shark caused Charlie Nickles to attack Summer with a barbed wire bat before Rebellion! We’re happy to see Summer back in the ring, but after an experience like that, is she ready?

STARS: Whaddya talking about, Todd? Of course, she’s ready! It’s Summer SZN! Look at her! She can’t wait to compete for the best show in the XWF’s entertainment empire!

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.

TODD: Well, Summer is one of the best on Anarchy’s roster! To date, she has been undefeated in non-title matches for over one year! An-



TODD: Wait, what?!? Charlie Nickles! He’s not competing until the main event!

STARS: This is what makes Thursday must-see TV! Anything can happen! It’s ANARCHY! The Universal champion could’ve killed Summer last show… and now he’s coming to finish the job!

…Inside the ring, Summer’s face turns to a furious scowl… She takes a fighting stance, ready to swing!

A ghoulish figure in a Demos mask lumbers out onto the ramp with a hideous scowl on his face to a mixed reaction from the crowd.

TODD: I can’t believe it! It’s…

…

TODD: Wait. That’s not Charlie.

STARS: Not unless he’s gotten six inches shorter since Warfare.

Wearing a false beard designed to look scraggly and unkempt like the Nickleman… And sporting Nickles’ trademark trackpants-based outfit… It’s Sir Lionel Pennyfarthing!

TODD: It’s Sir Lionel! What the hell’s he doing dressed like the Universal champion?

STARS: …I’m receiving word from my sources that… apparently, he considers this part of his media tour? To promote his appearance playing the part of Charlie Nickles in the Anarchy champion’s promo this week!

TODD: …What? He’s promoting a promo that already dropped?

Sir Lionel eerily marches down the ramp, perfectly recreating the mannerisms of the Nickleman…

(though he does allow himself a wink to the camera as he passes… as this message flashes across the screen)

PRESENTED FOR YOUR AWARD SEASON CONSIDERATION

…Inside the ring, Summer’s face turns to a furious scowl…

TODD: Oh dear… it looks like one person isn’t a fan of Sir Lionel’s method acting… and that’s Summer Page!

Sir Lionel hop-steps up the ramp, before stopping on the second step and delivering a trademark Nickleman sneer… before raising his hands…

”BANG-BANG!” He delivers Charlie’s signature gesture, in a surprisingly accurate impression of a resident of Steubenville, Ohio!

The crowd is half-horrified, half-howling with laughter, as Lionel finishes clambering up the steps and through the ropes

TODD: Well, Sir Lionel, while he seems to aim to win an award for his acting performances, he hasn’t won many matches since joining the XWF roster… Perhaps he thinks these mind games will help him end Summer Page’s undefea-

The moment Pennyfarthing enters the ring, Page jumps him!

TODD: Whoa! Summer not taking kindly to Lionel’s acting job and she’s giving him criticisms… with her fists!

The official, flustered by this, signals for the bell to ring!

DING DING!

SUMMER PAGE - vs - SIR LIONEL PENNYFARTHING Singles Match

STARS: If Pennyfarthing’s aim was to exploit Page’s recent trauma… It looks like all it did was piss Page off!

The usually more technically-minded Page pulls Lionel’s tracksuit jacket over his head like a hockey player and starts hammering him with punches to the gut!

The official finally steps up to break it up…

STARS: There ya go, ref! Step in! Sir Lionel wasn’t even ready, he didn’t even get a chance to monologue!

Sir Lionel meekly mews, cradling his protruding gut in the corner… The official asks if he’s ready to be-

Summer grabs Sir Lionel the arm he’s cradling to his chest and pulls him forward!

Lou Thesz Press!

TODD: Wow! We’ve seen Page get aggressive in the ring, but she is absolutely on a TEAR tonight!

Lionel’s eyes bulge with surprise as his back hits the mat… His beard-wig comes askew, as Summer mounts him, fists flying.

WHAM! WHAM! Each punch is punctuated by a scream of catharsis and fury.

TODD: Wow! Summer Page doesn't just want to beat Sir Lionel—she wants to erase the memory of the man he's portraying!

Sir Lionel flails theatrically, trying to shield his face with exaggerated flops of his arms, limbs wriggling like a man caught in a Shakespearean tempest!

“Unhand me, you wretched wench! Tis but a performance!”

STARS: Ooooh, sounds like Lionel just broke character… What will the Academy think of that?!?

Summer rips him up by the lapels of his Nickleman tracksuit, before whipping him into the ropes, her arms moving with tight, purposeful snaps!

Lionel staggers back, still halfway in character, arms flung wide like he’s delivering Hamlet’s soliloquy as he dashes across the ring…

Summer executes a perfectly-timed standing switch, wrapping her arms around Lionel just as he passes…

AND RIPPING HIM BACKWARDS AGAINST THE MAT!

Snap German Suplex WITH AUTHORITY!

TODD: Wow! Incredible power on display by Summer Page!

The official drops to count!

1!

2!

THR-NO!

Lionel kicks out!

TODD: Lionel kicks out?!? I can’t believe he wants this match to continue!

STARS: Lionel’s an addict for stagetime! He may not understand wrestling, but he gets that when the three-count happens, he’s done performing for the night!

Summer kips up, her face locked in calm fury now. She spins with fluid precision… as Lionel, cradling his head, gingerly rises up, bending forward…

WHAM! Summer nails a High Knee to Lionel’s jaw!

TODD: Summer is not letting up for one second on Sir Lionel! Pennyfarthing is totally outmatched here!

Lionel reels back off Summer’s knee, spinning on his heels and flopping like he’s been shot—landing back against the ropes, cradling his chest… as if ready to deliver a death monologue…

But Summer doesn’t give him the opportunity! She dives forward for a crossbody against the ropes!

…

BUT LIONEL DUCKS IT!

Summer goes chest first into the ropes, her arm tangling! She’s trapped!

TODD: Wow! If you asked me before this match if Lionel was a quick guy, I would have said no! But somehow he had the intuition and wherewithal to dodge Summer’s attack!

STARS: You know what they say, Todd! Acting is reacting!

Summer gives a brief, mocking smirk, as if to say “This is the big threat?” She bounces off the ropes with ease, springboards into a Tornado DDT, Lionel’s cravat flapping like a white flag mid-spin.

Lionel tumbles forward to the center of the ring… his face twists into a wild, desperate inspiration. He scrambles around… and sees Summer trapped…

…He smiles insidiously.

Lionel’s tongue extends outward, as he taps into his thespian spirit to channel Charlie Nickles’ mania!

…Summer sees him from the corner of her eye… And furiously tries to free herself from the tangled ropes…

TODD: Summer’s a sitting duck! This CAN’T be how Summer’s undefeated streak ends, can it?

STARS: Hey, Genghis Khan died falling off his horse… You don’t get to pick how a reign of dominance ends! And Summer’s might end tonight! To Lionel Pennyfarthing AS Charlie Nickles!

Lionel creeps behind Summer, feeling the crowd buzz for the absurdity, before throwing up finger guns and yelling…

“BANG BANG!”

Then, suddenly serious, Pennyfarthing hooks both Summer’s arms…

TODD: There’s NO WAY! Lionel’s going for the Devil Hook Drop!

STARS: Charlie Nickles’ finishing move!

Lionel snarls with evil intent in his eyes!


DEVIL HOOK DROP!


…


IS COUNTERED!

Page twists out of the hook!

Lionel looks shocked, like he hadn’t read to this part in the script…

WHAM! Boot to the gut from Page to Pennyfarthing!

Summer wraps Lionel in a front facelock!

TODD: Summer going for a finish over her own!

Summer lifts Pennyfarthing…

Bridges!

PURE PERFECTION! (Perfect-Plex!)

TODD: Summer calls that move Pure Perfection!

STARS: And there ain’t no move in wrestling with a name that describes itself better, Todd.

Summer holds the bridge!

The official counts!

1!

2!

THREE!

WINNER: SUMMER PAGE

TODD: What a dominant performance by Summer Page! She recently celebrated her one-year anniversary as an Anarchy superstar, and she remains undefeated in non-title matches!

STARS: But more than that, Todd! She created INTEREST! She made clear that she’s got ANIMOSITY for Charlie Nickles! If she… and Charlie… AND James Shark! Are all going to keep making Anarchy appearances! That’s a match, tinder and dynamite all packed together! And you can watch it detonate live by staying tuned!

Summer sits up slowly, her chest heaving, her expression unreadable—part vindicated, part exhausted. She stares down at Lionel, now sprawled on the mat with his fake mustache sliding halfway off his face, mouthing “Brava… brava…” through a woozy daze.

She stands, brushing her hair from her face, raising one fist in victory.

And with that—no posing, no posturing—she leaves.

TODD: Well, Lionel may be the first man to get an Oscar for appearing in a wrestling promo, but he didn’t get the win tonight!

STARS: Nor did he make friends with Summer Page!

As Summer exits the ring, Lionel lifts a hand skyward from the mat.

“Is this… not… a stage divine?”

The crowd laughs and applauds his curtain call as he collapses onto his back like a possum feigning death.

STARS: Godspeed, Sir Pennyfarthing. Whatever the fuck a Pennyfarthing is.

TODD: Ugh.

STARS: Hey, listen, forget the weird dude. Summer SZN is continuing on her streak of being undefeated in title matches, yet, suspiciously unvictorious any time the gold is on the line. It makes one have to wonder, will her next opportunity break the trend.

TODD: Are you saying that Summer is in line for another title opportunity?

STARS: All I’m saying is performances like this aren’t hurting her chances.

The ref raises Summer’s arm….

But then…


BLACKOUT

The fans are confused, and are wondering, a few murmurs can be heard.

Then…




Taylor Swift’s ‘SHAKE IT OFF’ blares through the darkness in the gym.

TODD: Jimmy, is… is this….

STARS: The one person on the roster with a Taylor Swift song?

The lights turn back on and a robed figure is standing in front of an exhausted Summer Page. While surrounding the ring, a couple dozen other robed figures.

Summer stumbles back in shock as…



MARISOL VILARO REMOVES HER HOOD


TODD: OH MY GOD, JIMMY!

STARS: …oh my god.

TODD: SUMMER’S OLDEST RIVAL IN THE XWF, MARISOL VILARO IS HERE!!!!!

Summer stumbles backward, heading for the rope, but looks out to see all of the VILAROFIT cultists surrounding the ring, by the time she looks back…


IT’S TOO LATE!


Mari grabs her wrist, twists her in, puts a boot on her jaw and…



TODD: VILAROFIT FACIAL!!!!!!!


Summer falls lifelessly to the mat…


The satisfied customers, or cultists, of VilaroFit slide under the ropes by the many… stomping Summer Page while Mari, callously turns away, and smiles for the camera.

“Don’t you forget it, world… Anarchy is MY show.”

The scene fades to black as officials rush down to the ring trying to help Summer while Mari just winks, and flexes her finely toned arms.

We cut to commercial.

BACKSTAGE

When we return, The B.O.B. locker room is, well, still around somehow. God knows if they are waiting to call their chickens to roost. Inside, we see TNGB. Thunder Knuckles is sipping on a Bud Light, watching playback of Anarchy. Bobby Bourbon is seen playing with his son, with whom he shares legal guardianship with Mark Flynn, the North Korean War Baby, aka Chevy.

”Dude, you can't bring that baby to the ring, we already talked about it.”

Bobby rolls his eyes but keeps his attention on Chevy.

”I know, but I do have that armored titanium chest protector baby carrier that would let me do a body splash with my son, just imagine bro, the combined might of me and an infant.”

Bobby points to some contraption on the ground that looks like what he was describing. It's gunmetal black and has a lot of straps.

”Bobby, we need to do better than combine our strength with a baby. Besides you can be a mac for your kid later.”

”Not mac, Brother Knuckles, a mech, as in a big walking robotic suit of armor like as seen across pop culture from films like Pacific Rim or Avatar, shows such as Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, games like Starcraft or Mech Warrior, or cult classic Robot Jox.”

”They sound crazy.”

”We've piloted one.”

Bobby holds up a set of keys, and presses an alarm check button. Outside the arena, parked beside TK's brand new Camaro, is the hundred foot tall Bastardtron, complete with laser destructor cannon and battle fist attachments. Back indoors, Mark Flynn has entered the B.O.B. locker room. TK looks up at him incredulously.

”The fuck do you want?”

Mark stares daggers back at TK.

”He’s here for Chevy. Mark’s his other dad.”

”Chevy? Like Chevy Chase?”

”Or Chevy Silverado, that's a cool name.”

Mark shakes his head in disbelief.

”WE will talk about that LATER.”

“Your match is up next, and I told you I don't want OUR son ringside.”

”Thank fuck. We agree on something.”

”Fine, but I don't want our son anywhere around Michael Graves! That dude is seriously creepy, and if I find out he's laid one finger on our little boy I will grind him up into a fine paste and he'll be found through several septic tanks.”

Mark’s eyes go wide as he draws a long slow breath, as though some brilliant plan he'd had was on the cusp of backfiring catastrophically.

”I want you to use the baby carrier I designed.”

Mark turns and attempts to lift the reinforced titanium baby carrier Bobby designed.

”Christ on a cracker, how much does this even weigh?”

”It’s 250 pounds of reinforced titanium.”

”You expect me to wear this?”

”Well strong daddy can.”

The North Korean War Baby beckons towards both Bobby and Mark.

”What is it pal?”

The Wee Baby NK starts moving his jaws, making sounds.

”He’s trying to say something! What is it buddy? Can you say dada?”

”Can you say proletariat?”

The baby leans forward, looks up at his dads, and live on Anarchy, utters his first word.

“Fuck.”

Bobby looks at Mark with frustration. Mark gestures back to Bobby with matching energy. TK laughs. Mark rolls his eyes, having come to the same conclusion as Bobby, who has begun scratching his head sheepishly.

“FUCK!”

The North Korean War Baby laughs and claps, finally using people words for the first time.

”How hard have we failed as parents?”

”This will be fine.”


TODD: Folks, we have our title match of the night and this one is a doozy!

STARS: Absolutely, Todd. The Anarchy tag division is where the XWF’s best tag-teams do battle! In fact, some day, you mark my words, they’re going to rename the Anarchy Tags… the Tag Titles! And the current Tag Titles will become the Warfare Tag Titles!

TODD: …I say this as an Anarchy employee. I sincerely doubt that will happen.



We see the X-Tron come to life with the words THUGS in red font, and smoke comes out of the stage and the camera sees Tommy coming out first trash talking to the camera, then JB follows behind as he raises his fist in the air as they walk down to the ring. At the ramp area, Tommy and JB smack talk some people, and they both climb to the ring and enter it and bask in the mixed reactions as their theme cuts off.[/font]

TODD: The THUGS looked absolutely DOMINANT at Rebellion! Through a few dirty tricks and third man tactics, they absolutely humiliated American Storm, securing their status as #1 contenders to the Anarchy Tag Titles!

STARS: And I had my guys watch through old tapes… (which you, the viewer, can watch on the XWF network)... Last time, the THUGS and TNGB met on Anarchy? The THUGS came out on top!

TODD: Wild but true, Jimmy! Can the THUGS pull off the upset of the century twice?

The entirely epic XTron video of TNGB takes over the arena as the lights dim. A spotlight highlights the ramp, and Thunder Knuckles walks out onto the entrance ramp, hyped and ready to fight, pointing out into the crowd. Behind him, Bobby Bourbon deliberately walks out and stops, also pointing out into the crowd. Both men glance at each other and return their attention to the ring, delivering a no-look fistbump, then in unison point into the ring. The crowd sings along with the song.

*ASSHOLE, DIRTBAG, NO GOOD BASTARDS!*stomp stomp*

TODD: I bet Them No Good Bastards wish Rebellion had gone as well for them as it went for The Thugs! They’re first Anarchy tags defense was a loss against Scoops McGeeGee… if they hadn’t gotten themselves intentionally disqualified, they might have lost those tag belts!

STARS: Here’s the thing about teams like Them No Good Bastards, Todd… They’re most dangerous coming off a loss. They’ve tuned their game! They’ve spot-checked their strategies!

TODD: I don’t disagree, Jimmy! But, The THUGS looked like a well-oiled machine at Rebellion! Can the Bastards turn around a victory after their recent defeat?!?

TK slides into the ring and gets up onto a knee, beckoning the crowd as Bobby climbs the steps and enters the ring behind him. TK stands and appeals to the crowd as Bobby raises his arms at 45-degree angles.

Referee N. Sertname looks to both corners to see the legal man, seeing TK and JB staring down from across one another, John psyching himself up for the war he views in front of him, stretching his arms out as he leans towards Thunder Knuckles like a mountain lion preparing to hunt. TK meets him with a steely gaze, focusing more fury and determination than he’s ever mustered up in his entire career.

TODD: We’re starting with John Black and Thunder Knuckles! Two men who have had among the longest XWF tenures among the current active roster!

STARS: These two fellas BREATHE, BLEED, AND EXCRETE XWF in everything they do! Hell, you can say the same thing about Bobby and Tommy too! But only one man is leaving representing Anarchy as the official tag team champions of Thursday nights!

The official signals for the start!

DING DING!

Anarchy Tag Title Match Them No Good Bastards BOBBY BOURBON & THUNDER KNUCKLES © - vs - THUGS Traditional Tag

As soon as the match begins, TK’s determined demeanor immediately becomes a shit-eating grin as he tags out, allowing John to charge forward only to slow down as he sees his prey retreat behind his more immediately athletic partner. Bobby Bourbon slips into the ring, raising a hand up to his ear to savor the crowd’s disapproval! As he drinks in the disdain, he chases it with a fist to the jaw from John Black!

John smacks his own chest, looking to goad a counter-attack from Bobby! Bob inhales after pressing his thumb to his lip to check for crimson before delivering a thunderous clap to the chest of JB! John stumbles back slightly, cursing from the pain before lifting up two middle fingers!

TODD: A definitive message to the so-called champs!

Bourbon reaches past John’s birds and rakes his eyes!

STARS: Maybe he would’ve preferred that one left on read!

As John tries to regain the use of his eyes, Bourbon capitalizes, whipping John into the ropes and clotheslining him down to the mat! He lifts John up, locking one arm in as he prepares for a double underhook suplex, but JB has a moment of hope, blindly connecting an elbow to the jaw of Bourbon. But Bobby powers through, hooking his hands under JB’s pits and heaving him across the ring with a Big Boy Toss!

TODD: Holy COW! John Black is 290 pounds! And Bobby just hucked him like a bag of garbage!

STARS: Of course, he did! Bobby’s the bigger man!

Todd: …Is he? JB and Bourbon are both massive competitors!

STARS: Anyone who knows Bobby knows he’s an athletic 291 pounds! 291 > 290. It’s simple math, Todd.

As Tommy shakes off cobwebs, clearly not used to being hucked around the ring… Bourbon grabs Black by the scruff of the neck and drags him back to the Bastards’ corner, tagging in TK.

TK and Bobby whip JB across the ring! They tandem flapjack him up into the air! JB gets about eight feet of airtime before crashing to the mat with a loud thud!

Wish smacks the turnbuckle, demanding JB scrap back into it!

TK grabs JB by the boot and starts to drag him back toward the Bastards corner…

But JB surprises TK with a boot to the skull! TK rolls backwards toward his corner! JB starts to crawl for his corner… but TK chases him down and delivers hammering forearms to the back of his head!

TODD: TK has a genuine claim to being one of the greatest tag competitors in XWF History! He’s got a high ring IQ in tag matches, he knows exactly what to do to set up his team for success and punish his opponent!

Black starts to work his way up to his feet, powering through TK’s strikes… TK glances back at the THUGs corner… seeing Tommy extend his arm…

TK suddenly charges at the THUGS corner, aiming a strike to knock Tommy off the apron!

TODD: What?!? TK’s attacking the non-legal man!

STARS: Brilliant move by TK! JB can’t tag out if there’s no one to tag![/blue]

TK swings a backfist! But Tommy ducks under… And catches TK with a headbutt!

TODD: Backfire!

TK woozily spins back around… Into JB, who delivers a back body drop! And falls forward, tagging in Tommy Wish!

TODD: Oh my! Tommy Wish!

STARS: Things just shifted in this one in a big way!

TK cradles his aching back as he scrambles up to his feet… Straight into a dropkick from Tommy Wish! A second, a third! TK manages to break Tommy’s onslaught of strikes by shoving Tommy back against the ropes… but Tommy rebounds off, and delivers a slingblade, dragging TK onto his back!

Bobby decides to step through the ropes and charge Tommy… But Tommy’s ready, twisting Bobby into a spinning powerslam!

TODD: Holy COW! Bobby Bourbon is 291 pounds! How did Tommy do that?!?

STARS: Well, Todd, Tommy is 320 pounds an-

TODD: Never mind, just… that was rhetorical.

Wish grabs Bobby by the neck before hooking Bourbon into a front facelock, looking for a HideYaFace! But TK comes from behind and chop blocks Tommy! Wish drops to the mat, cradling his leg! Bourbon and TK, sensing an opening, each grab one of Tommy’s legs… And MAKE-A-WISH!

TODD: Bobby and TK playing wishbone with Tommy Wish’s limbs!

Wish grabs at his legs, face awash with pain! The official admonishes the Bastards for their illegal double-team… They simply head to their corner and TK tags back out for Bobby!

…Unfortunately for them, both Bastards heading to their corner gave Tommy a window to crawl and tag back in JB! Bobby looks to lock up with JB, but JB dives through the air, taking Bourbon down with a flying lariat! Bourbon, with resiliency, forces himself back upright… but JB’s ready, securing a front facelock for a suplex!

…But TK, not liking how things are going, decides to step through the ropes!

TODD: The official’s got instill some order into this match! The Bastards are just coming and going in and out as they please!

JB sees TK coming and releases the front-facelock on Bobby… TK aims a haymaker punch for JB’s face, but JB ducks under and grabs TK by the neck as he passes, NECKBREAKER!

JB tries to take advantage of this window both Bastards are grounded and scoops TK off the mat and onto his shoulders, looking for a Blacklisted (Death Valley Driver)... But TK drops off the back and shoves him into Bourbon, who heaves Black off his feet by the throat! EMC SQUARD (Earth’s Mightiest Chokeslam)

TODD: I never thought I’d say this but… the THUGs are getting screwed by the damn numbers game!

STARS: It’s weird, isn’t it? It’s like watching the Thunder lose a game due to lopsided foul calls…

From the THUGs’ corner, Reggie sneaks himself up to the apron, signalling to Tommy who slides down!

TODD: Speaking of the numbers’ game, we saw this at Rebellion! The THUGs swapping members in and out in the chaos!

Bobby irish whips JB into his corner… And Reggie tags himself in!

TODD: Hello, Reggie Estrada! Bobby visibly squints like… ‘huh, Tommy Wish sure looks different than a few seconds ago’

Reggie charges in with a diving crossbody… But Bobby catches him in mid-air, just as TK pulls himself back off the mat! Bobby lifts Reggie into powerbomb position just as TK grabs his leg…

Rainbow Laser Death Sequence!

STARS: And goodbye, Reggie Estrada!

Estrada unconsciously rolls under the bottom rope… The official, suddenly realizing Reggie wasn’t even a competitor in this match, orders JB, the previous legal man, to get back in there!

Wish hops back on the apron and nods at JB… They both come through the ropes!

TODD: Looks like the THUGS are done letting the Bastards double-team them! This two-on-two is going tagless for the moment!

The official barks at the THUGs to only send in one man… And then spins, trying to make the Bastards do the same… But the decision’s already been made by both teams! Bobby and Black pair off throwing wild punches, as TK and TW both grapple and tussle each other to the mat!

TODD: This one has gone from a tag match to a slugfest!

Bobby and Black each front facelock, like a pair of stubborn bulls, each determined to suplex the other up and over, their contest of strength leading them straight into the official! The ref falls down after being clobbered by the two! Meanwhile, Wish seems to have secured TK in a side headlock… Wish goes to bulldog TK… When TK low blows Tommy! Tommy drops to his knees, as TK straightens himself out…

Meanwhile, Black, the smaller competitor (by one pound…) has gotten Bourbon into the air! But TK axe handles Black from behind! Bourbon drops back down to his feet… meanwhile, Tommy scoops himself back to his feet as TK and Bobby lift Black into position…

TODD: Uh oh! Are we gonna see another RLDS?

Bobby gets Black into powerbomb position… But Tommy climbs to the top rope… And dives onto the human mass in the center of the ring! All four men are down!

STARS: Wow! What a save by Tommy!

All four men are down as the crowd starts a ten-count! The fans demand someone get up so this carnage can continue!

TK rises from the fallen bodies from the huge leap of Tommy Wish moments prior.

TODD: How did he manage that? Nobody could just shrug off an attack like that!

Looking out to the crowds with a devilish look as he reaches into his pants and pulls out a condom, holding it up proudly!

STARS: HE WAS WEARING PROTECTION!

TODD: THAT’S NOT HOW THAT WORKS!

STARS: Tell that to Thunder Knuckles!

TK glances towards the ref, still out from the earlier incident as he reaches underneath the ring apron! He pulls out a pillowcase, looking at it suspiciously before dropping it abruptly, a snake wiggling its way out from inside!

TK: Oh fuck that!

It slithers away to another spot under the ring as TK finds the pillowcase he was actually searching for, motioning the cameraman over to look inside as he lifts up a handful of…

TODD: Oh, god, haven’t these two caused enough chaos without-

THUMB TACKS!!

The crowd roars in approval as TK gives an exaggerated thumbs up, walking over to the barrier between himself and the crowd and dumping the entire bag into a fan’s beer! The arena sends its hate down as TK gives his iconic jerk-off motion!

TODD: Leave it to the bastards to kill the vibe even when they’re breaking the rules.

Meanwhile, outside of the ring, JB and Bobby have finally climbed to their feet! John drags Bourbon by his hair into the ringpost, sending the Bastard into a haze before rolling him into the ring! With Bourbon on the back foot once more, John lifts himself to the top rope, each step seemingly as shaky as his opponent’s! The official cradles his head, finally beginning to show signs of life himself! John leaps off the top!

FLYING LARIAT!

Bourbon is sent crumbling to the canvas! John Black slams his fists against the mat as he forces himself upwards and locks a liontamer hold on Bobby!

TODD: JB’s locked in the Real Raw! This could be it for the Bastards!

Bourbon winces in pain as he claws at the canvas, digging in deep to try and reach the ropes as the ref groggily checks to see if he can continue! But JB musters up the will to drag Bobby Bourbon towards the opposite side of the ring! Bobby doesn’t look like he can take much longer!

Suddenly, TK reappears, his pillowcase filled with X-Bux as he swings it at JB’s jaw! John stumbles out of his submission hold, nearly tumbling on the official who is utterly baffled and didn’t see a thing! Bobby lifts up, transitioning from his prone position to standing as he lifts JB up into the sky and brings him plummeting all the way back to Earth!

BOBBY BOMBBBBBBB!

The ref crawls over weakly, slapping the mat as Bobby locks in the pin!


1!






2!







3!

WINNERS: THEM NO GOOD BASTARDS

STARS: The Bastards retain despite a hard fought effort by The THUGS! You might have the numbers on them, but they’ll put their money on you- literally!

TODD: I really thought The THUGS had it, too! I suppose I’ll just have to go back to betting for when we’re gonna get that raise they told us about.

STARS: Not on air! We’ll be right back, after these important words from our sponsor… ourselves!



TODD: I, for one, am looking forward to Leap of Faith.

STARS: Wow. Really going out on a limb there, huh?

TODD: …

STARS: I’m pretty sure everyone is looking forward to Leap of Faith!

TODD: I’m excited to see how Anarchy is represented this year.

STARS: The A-Show definitely needs to show up and show out. That’s for sure.

TODD: Well, that would be your job, wouldn’t it?

STARS: I guess.

TODD: What do you mean, you guess?



One for the money rings throughout the arena as JY steps out from behind the curtain with a kings crown on. He stands center stage and takes in all of the boo’s before adjusting his crown with a smirk and heading down to the ring.

RING ANNOUNCER: INTROOODUUUUCINGGGG The One, The Only. He hails from TOOOROOONTOOO ONTARIOOOO CANADAAAAA, KING JUUUUUSTIIINNN YOOOOOORK!

York enters the ring and stands on the middle ropes and holds his crown high in the air while giving a death stare into the crowd.

York calls for a microphone before the match between him and Shark commences. The crowd is letting him know exactly how they feel about him.

JY: Shut the fuck up.

STARS: Whoa.

TODD: Whoa is right.

STARS: I think I like this guy.

JY: Oh Thad… I bet you thought you were so clever having your little puppy dog show up with your golden shovel. I’m also kind of shocked that you took your nose out of Lucy’s asshole long enough to put that whole scenario together. It’s sad to watch the owner of this company cost one of his biggest stars the second title. I never thought I’d say this but maybe Theo would do a better job than you.

York slaps his title that is hanging off his shoulder freshly shined and looking brighter than the garbage shovel that Cy brought to Rebellion.

JY: You must’ve bought gift cards to Burger King to get that fucking dickwipe Keeton to attack me from behind because that’s about all he’s worth. I’ll pitch in a bottle of super glue so you can have his lips firmly attached to your ass. I’m not going to bother addressing the curly haired freak that has to spread himself everywhere like a cheap whore in a sorry attempt to find success. Quick hint… it’s not gone well for him.

York laughs at the thought of that dipshit Keeton.

JY: Let's get down to business. I cost you your match against Enigma and you cost me my second title against Graves. So the way I see it we’re 1-1, an eye for an eye. So let’s cut this bullshit game and get to it. Bring your scrawny little ass down here.

York stares at the top of the ramp and nothing.

JY: That's what I thought, you nutless prick. What about Cy? Bring that golden shovel down here and I’ll shove it up your ass. No, nothing? That’s what I thought. Fuck you both and you haven’t seen the last of me. Now watch as I continue to make this brand far more prestigious than you ever could. Oh and that curly haired freak has what’s coming to him when and if he can scale up from the bottom of the card.

York hands his title to the time keeper and prepares for his match with James Shark.

TODD: Wow. Way to call out Thaddeus!

STARS: That motherfucker still owes me three microwaves.

TODD: …

STARS: Don’t look at me like that.

TODD: What do you need three microwaves for?

STARS: You wouldn’t understand.

TODD: No. But what I do understand is that if Justin York keeps poking the bear, eventually, Thaddeus will respond!

STARS: Oh really. On my brand? Not without my microwaves he won’t.

TODD: He’s your boss!

STARS: Sorry. I don’t hear three microwaves whirring in the background right now.

Demons by Tech N9ne begins to blast on the arena's speakers, accompanies by a mixed reaction from the crowd.




The sound of a huge explosion shakes the arena as flames shoot up from the stage for a few seconds. His silhouette can be seen behind the flames as he comes out of the curtains.


As the flames stop he walks forward and takes off his black shirt before throwing it into the crowd as he walks down the ramp. Shark is talking shit as he’s making his way towards the ring, his cuban chains swaying around his neck, as he walks past one of the cameras the broadcast can pick up some unpleasant words about his opponent.

TODD: James Shark has been, well, a little bit unhinged as of late. If you want to speak about drug use and potential abuse.

STARS: What? Why? Is Damian coming back out?

TODD: No?

STARS: Then why bring up drugs? That makes like, no sense.

TODD: …

STARS: You’re not implying…

TODD: I’m not implying anything!

STARS: You’re damn right you’re not implying anything, because, JAMES SHARK IS A SAINT!

His music continues blasting, the fans screaming out “HELL NAH” every time the chorus hits. Shark slides into the ring and runs over to the farthest turnbuckle before jumping up and landing on the second ropes. The feed switches to one of the cameras located in the upper level of the arena, it begins to zoom all the way down to Shark as he stands still, zooming until there is a close-up of his face. A devilish smirk breaks his seriousness as he jumps off the turnbuckle and begins to shadow box.

TODD: Both these men talked about how they considered this match akin to a warmup, as though it didn’t even matter to them. But seeing them face to face in the ring, with the tension clearly rising… you know it’s got to be a lot more than that.

STARS: I mean, egos are a fragile thing. And the more you inflate yours the more it wants to burst. And what I see in that ring right now on a fine St. Louis night is two egos. One inflating at an incredible rate, and the other potentially fractured.

TODD: Wow. You can be insightful when you want to be.

STARS: I can’t lose either way. Anarchy is better off with both of these men!

"KING" JUSTIN YORK - vs - JAMES SHARK Non-Title Singles

York and Shark square off in the middle of the ring and go nose to nose while talking some shit to each other as the referee calls for the bell.

DING DING!

Shark takes a step back and before he has the chance to react to anything York quickly thumbs him in the eye for which the referee admonishes him.

TODD: OH, it’s getting started right away! Cheap shot!

STARS: If you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying. Which is odd, cause this is York basically admitting he’s trying.

TODD: Are you sure this isn’t him practicing, Jimbo?

STARS: I said I’d cut you.

York quickly shoves the referee away from him after exchanging some words and turns his attention back to Shark who snaps off a series of quick jabs followed by a heavy right hook that has York reeling. Shark Irish whips York into the corner at full speed and York crashes into the turnbuckles and slams the canvas.

STARS: And this is why I wanted a SHARK on my squad. I mean, look at the boxing background coming into play here.

TODD: Boxing rings and wrestling rings are both rings, Jimmy.

STARS: …

TODD: I just thought you might need help drawing the comparison.

STARS: I’m out of crackers. But if I wasn’t, I’d give you a James Shark uppercut. You aren’t worth the energy.

Shark jaunts over to York but he quickly rolls up Shark with an inside cradle and grabs the ropes. The referee counts two and then notices York has his hans on the rope and breaks the hold, once again laying into York for not playing by the rules. York backs the referee down into the corner and tries to intimidate him and SHARK SPINS HIM AROUND AND NAILS HIM WITH A HEAVY CLOTHESLINE. York crashes to the mat and bounces back up quickly and then Shark drops him again. Shark pulls York to his feet and hooks him for a DDT and shows off to the crowd before planting York firmly on the top of his head and making the cover.

TODD: Huge DDT!

One!


Two!

York powers out at two!

TODD: Ooh, near fall by the former Universal Champion there.

STARS: Credit where credit is due. Canadians are known to be hard-headed.

TODD: …

STARS: What?

TODD: A) That’s not credit. B) Traditionally, in professional wrestling, Samoans are known to have hard heads.

STARS: I wasn’t talking about wrestling, Rodd.

Shark knee drops York right in the melon before hauling him back to his feet and delivering a nasty spinning back fist that connects and then driving him down once again with a beautiful neckbreaker. Before Shark has the chance to capitalize York wisely rolls outside the ring to recollect himself as things haven’t been going his way. Shark rolls out behind him and chases him around the ring and York suddenly turns around and drops Shark with a nasty short clothesline. York climbs on top of the former universal champion and reigns down furious right hands right into his face. The referee has made it to a count of 5.

TODD: You’re not actually going to let these two champion-level talents get counted out here tonight on your first Anarchy, right Jimbo?

STARS: I mean, I let the sweeties and the fellas in the back conduct their business accordingly. I’m not an active wrestler, nor am I a referee. All I can do is give them a stage to impress me.

TODD: What about the fans?

STARS: They can pay to watch. Sure.

TODD: Glad to know you care.

York gets off of Shark and pulls him to his feet and Irish whips him into the steel steps but Shark places his hands on them to stop himself from crashing thunderously into them. York is taunting the crowd and dusting his hands together as if he just eliminated Shark for good. York turns and sees that shake didn’t hit the steps and dashes full speed at him but Shark ducks and hoists York over with a back body drop RIGHT ON THE STEPS!

STARS: Ohh, that hurts in every Province, Justin Todderlake.

TODD: Really? I thought you’d be more worried about the stairs.

STARS: I can buy so many stairs with the money Justin York will make me.

TODD: …

STARS: Us. Our brand. The XWF.

TODD: And what are you buying with Shark’s draw money? Ring posts?

STARS: I mean, six-sided rings do require more posts…

TODD: Ain’t no way in hell they’re letting you get away with that.

STARS: Listen. Justin York may be hurt. And you’re being an asshole right now.

Shark rolls into the ring just as the referee makes it to the count of 7. Shark taunts York to make it to the ring before the ten count and he wills himself onto the apron at the count of nine. Shark hits the opposite side ropes and strikes with the PAID IN FULL (flying elbow) but York ducks and shark hits the ropes. York strikes with a heavy forearm strike and then pulls shark out onto the apron while he’s groggy. York hoists him up while they’re on the apron and drives him down with a nasty apron snap Suplex. The two crash to the floor from the momentum.

TODD: Odd that Shark was willing to take the countout victory there.

STARS: He was trying to punk him, man. He said this match ain’t shit, and he was gonna prove it.

TODD: Until York dropped him on his head.

STARS: I’d be proud of myself if I wasn’t watching two of my best shorten my profit margin. I mean their life spans.

TODD: …

York is first to his feet and tosses Shark over the announce table and crashing into the announcers chairs.

TODD: OH GOD- *Static*

Jimmy drives away from the table with his hoveround.

STARS: Oh no… they killed Timmy. How tragic.

TODD: It’s… Todd…

York walks around the ring taunting fans and eve ripping the sign of a little kid in the front row. York then decides that he’s had enough of this match and grabs his Revolution title from the time keepers area. Shark crawls out from behind the announce desk and makes it to his feet and just when York swings the title square at his head Shark ducks and shoves York from behind into the ring post. His face clangs not only off the post but off of his championship belt. York crumbles to the floor but Shark is quickly back on the offensive and rolls him into the ring to break the referee's count of 9.

STARS: Told ya I needed more ringposts, Toddy.

TODD: How did you… no…

STARS: I told you. Captain Future knows his shit, man.

TODD: Hold on… let me get… settled back in here…

STARS: Since Todd can’t do his job right now. By gawd, did you see York’s head bounce off of that solid American steel! I didn’t just hear it… I felt it!

TODD: …damn it. Not my monitor is all fuzzy.

Shark rolls in behind him and signals the end of the contest. Shark leaps through the guard of York and drives him with a nasty Superman punch causing the back of york's head to rattle off of the canvas SHARKBAIT!!! Shark smells blood in the water and hooks the leg of York and the referee counts.

ONE

TWO

THRE———

YORK SHOOTS HIS SHOULDER OFF THE MAT AT THE VERY LAST SECOND AND SHARK CAN'T BELIEVE IT.

TODD: Say what you will about either of these two competitors! They’re harder to keep down than anyone thinks!

STARS: Shark’s string of bad luck isn’t because he’s lost a step. The competition level is just that damned high! Justin York’s Canadian Dome is just that damned hard!

TODD: I was going to mention his pride, but oh yeah, you go and make it weird.

STARS: You brought up the Samoans and Dwayne “The Grok” Johnson ain’t even here tonight!

TODD: That’s not the point!

York kicks Shark off of him and sends him crashing into the referee who gets knocked out of the ring. Shark quickly goes back to work and grabs York in a nasty looking guillotine choke but York does what he does and low blows Shark without the referee being able to see it. Shark crumbles to his knees and York with one last burst of energy hooks him and powers him up for the KILLZONE (Canadian Brainbuster)

STARS: YORK GOES FROM DAMIAN SANTOS FRIED EGG BRAIN TO KILLZONE! HE’S GONNA DO IT!

Just as York is about to drop Shark on his head he slips out the back door and hits the ropes at full speed and lands the PAID IN BLOOD FLYING ELBOW!!

TODD: PAID IN BLOOD! SHARK COUNTERED!

STARS: SHARK IS LIKE A HAMMERHEAD, EXCEPT HE KEEPS HAMMERING KING YORKS HEAD INSTEAD!

York hits the canvas like a ton of bricks and Shark also hits the deck out of exhaustion. Both men are down as the referee makes it back into the ring and sees Shark crawl forward and drape his arm over York-


ONE!



TWO!!



THREE!!!

DING DING DING!

WINNER: JAMES SHARK

TODD: He got him!

STARS: Damn. I mean, good. Great even. I really booked a no-winner for myself. But hey, at least James Shark looks happy for the first time in weeks. I know York is going to be upset and, thank god for that Canadian Head of his or he’d probably have CTE.

TODD: York is going to take this loss tough being the competitor that he is. But he’s still our Revolution Champion. He’ll break out of the funk. Meanwhile, Shark looks more than happy. Wait… speaking of, what in the hell is James Shark doing?

Shark immediately gets up to his feet groggily after the pinfall and slides out of the ring. He starts motioning for the production crew to give him the XWF Revolution Championship but they all look at one another confused. Shark can be heard cussing at them as he ends up snatching the Championship and throwing it over his shoulder.

As he walks away with the Championship he looks over at York and shrugs his shoulders at him as if this was his fault.

“A loss is a loss, homie. Ain’t they tell you I’m a belt collector??”

He winks at him before jumping over the barricade and celebrating with the title as the fans are all barely held back from joining him by Security.

STARS: He’s celebrating with his Revolution Championship, Todd. What’s the problem?

TODD: He’s not celebrating with it. He’s stealing it!

STARS: Now that’s a line that I won’t cross. You should be ashamed of yourself.

TODD: No, he’s literally taking the belt with him, right now, right before our very eyes.

STARS: So?

TODD: It was a non-title match!

STARS: …fuck.

A rumble emerges from the crowd as James Shark is celebrating his win. Shark thinks it’s for him but when a figure pops up behind him the rumble turns into a roar.

It's KING KIERAN!

TODD: What the hell?!

BAM!

An elbow to the back of the head strikes Shark down and he rolls to the floor around ringside. The Revolution title drops next to him.

King pursues and grabs Shark by the head, hurtling him into the barricade. And then again. And a third for good measure.

TODD: THAT’S KING KIERAN!

The Revolution title catches his eye. Grabbing it from the ground, he waits for Shark - whose head has been well and truly rattled - to rise.

STARS: He wants to steal my belt too!

TODD: It’s not your belt!

King smashes the title off the Shark’s head and discards it over his body!

Movement in the ring catches King's eye and he darts in towards where Justin York is rising. Ugly on the Outside! King drives York's face unto his knee in scarily quick fashion!

TODD: I don’t understand! KING KIERAN is HERE on ANARCHY and he’s TAKING OUT EVERYBODY!

York drops and flops to the outside where Shark also lies, and still King isn't done. He follows after, and sets to work repositioning the steel steps. York gets yanked to his feet before…

F UR HEAD on the steel steps to Justin York!

The sound of York's skull ricocheting off the steel reverberates around the building. Without even breathing, Kieran turns his eye to James Shark.

STARS: DAMN IT! …now the steps are really busted.

He pulls him up.

And drives him down with the same brainbuster to the steel steps that he just laid York out with!

TODD: You’re not at all worried about YOUR talent?!

STARS: I mean, there’s a cost to benefit ratio to consider…

Shark bounces from the steps and lands not far from York.

His jaw clenched, King Kieran stands on the ring steps and observes his handiwork. He crouches down and speaks directly to his fallen victims.

KING: One King. Zero Revolutions.

Uncharacteristically short on words, The ACTUAL King of the XWF leaves the way he came through the crowd.

TODD: Did he just… is KIERAN KING declaring himself the one true King of the XWF?

STARS: I mean, at this rate, we may not have any Kings left by Leap of Faith.

TODD: Holy shit.

ANOTHER BRIEF INTERMISSION A RICKETY CAGE IS FABRICATED AROUND THE RING ITS TOP RESTS AGAINST THE MOLDY DROP CEILING TILES ABOVE

TODD: This isn’t a damn easy street walk out steel cage match… it’s a Goddamn Temu Hell in a Cell!

STARS: I don’t know why you’re being so bitchy. I said it would fit.

TODD: Barely!

STARS: I mean, they could escape from the top if they still wanted to. Just move one or two of the ceiling tiles out of the way…

TODD: It doesn’t work that way!

STARS: Gasp! You’re right! It’s almost like, our two top champions are about to beat the shit out of each other for our enjoyment!

Suddenly, there’s the strum of a banjo heard from off-stage…



Through the apron, bursts “Micheal Graves” (conceivably), Anarchy champion, sporting the “Dark Warrior” mask, and the belt on his shoulder.

STARS: And there he is, MY TOP champion!

TODD: Well yes, but actually no?

STARS: WE ARE ANARCHY. WE ARE THE A SHOW.

TODD: We’re still a part of the XWF. Charlie Nickles is the Universal-

STARS: SILENCE, FOOL!

As the banjo strings are plucked, ‘Graves’ strolls down the ramp… As an entourage follows him!

Irwin, Mark Flynn’s #1 fan is plucking the banjo, playing the folk song…

Behind *him* are the Students of Gravy.

Miss Furry paws at a triangle, which isn’t plugged into anything…

While Peter Parkor brings up the rear, holding a microphone…

Peter raises the mask over his lips and lifts the mic.

♫ You may think that you’re neutral ♫
♫  There are no neutrals though ♫
♫ You’re either with the wrestlers ♫
♫ Or a pawn of the CEOs ♫

The fans join in, knowing the chorus by heart…

WHICH SIDE ARE YOU OOOOOOOOOON? WHICH SIDE ARE YOU OOOOOOOOOON?

‘Graves’ continues to walk down the ramp to the beat, staring at the challenger in the ring… as the entourage behind him plays…

♫ The Boss wants us divided ♫
♫  He don’t want this song sung ♫
♫ But us wrestlers, we fight until ♫
♫ That final bell is rung  ♫

STARS: WHICH SIDE ARE YOU OOOOOOOOOON? WHICH SIDE ARE YOU OOOOOOOOOON?

TODD: Fuck sake!

♫ You have the Uni, Charlie ♫
♫  But does it make you whole? ♫
♫ You’ve got just what you wanted ♫
♫ And it only cost your soul ♫

WHICH SIDE ARE YOU OOOOOOOOOON? WHICH SIDE ARE YOU OOOOOOOOOON?

…Finally, finishing his slow, deliberate march, ‘Graves’ enters the ring and lifts the belt over his head.

♫ Dance for Peter, Charlie ♫
♫  Fight the Revolution Wave ♫
♫ Drag yourself far lower ♫
♫ Than even Robyn’s Grave ♫

WHICH SIDE ARE YOU OOOOOOOOOON? WHICH SIDE ARE YOU OOOOOOOOOON?

Irwin finishes with a little banjo solo…

Before humbly sliding his instrument behind his back…

The entourage heads back up the ramp, as ‘Graves’ hands the belt off to the official, never taking his eyes off the entrance way.

TODD: My god, though, Graves looks laser focused.

STARS: Oh, he is. I can sense his anger. I can feel his hate flowing through him.

TODD: …

STARS: I know he wants to debut a new item on XWFshop. They both do. I can feeeeeel it.



Charlie Nickles emerges from the curtain with the new, old, big, gold, XWF Universal Championship title belt strapped around his waist. But that’s not all. He’s got his hands taped for a bare knuckle fight, a felt bag in one hand, and a barbed-wire baseball bat draped over his shoulder! He points the bat in Micheal’s direction, and says something that, quite frankly, no one in the building can make out. Whatever it is, it’s personal. The cameras pan over to Gravy who paces inside of the steel trap, leaving ample distance between himself and the door.

TODD: The energy for this main event is absolutely palpable, there, Jimbo.

STARS: Charlie is already using more brains than I thought the man had. He’s turning their little temporary house into his home.

TODD: Looks like he’s trying to turn it into Micheal Graves’s… uhm…

STARS: Grave?

Nickles pushes himself down the ramp one heavy step at a time, until he reaches the ringside area. He looks up into the ring at Graves through the steel mesh. Graves is motioning him to come in and join him. Ironically, the referee opens the door for Nickles but refuses to go inside with the two men to formally start the match.

TODD: Why do I got the feeling this is going to be a bloodbath?

STARS: I mean, hopefully it is. I can’t force these two to fight for life and limb over something as simple as bragging rights and a merch opportunity, now can I?

Charlie brings his weapons of choice into the ring with him, but he does leave the Uni title belt behind for safe keeping. Matter of fact, he is quite threatening to the timekeeper that if anything were to happen to his championship, he’d drag them in the cage along with them. With all that being crystal clear, The Nickleman steps inside, where he is immediately rushed by Mar..cheal Graves! Conceivably!

CHARLIE NICKLES - vs - MICHEAL GRAVES (conceivably) Easy Way Out cage match The only way to win the match is to walk out of the cage door! Winner gets a new item on XWF shop.com! (Non-Title)

DING DING!!

The match begins with the men throwing haymakers. Obviously Graves needs Charlie to drop the weapons, to which he does with a flurry of fists that cause Nickleman to respond in kind. The two brawl to the corners, literally trading positions and spinning around the ropes until Nickleman lands a knee lift. Charlie goes for his barbed wire bat the first instant that he can but Graves steps on the handle of the bat and follows up with a straight right fist to Nickles’ steel jaw.

STARS: Oh, and in case anyone is wondering. The referee has been instructed not to take the padlock off of the door for the first five minutes.

TODD: What? Why?

STARS: Not that we’re having any problems tonight. But you know, just for future reference. You step in my cage, you got to fight.

TODD: …you’re making this more uncomfortable than it needs to be.

STARS: Nah. Charlie and Gravy are making this way easier than I anticipated. I could have locked them in a room together and gotten the same result.

Graves, with a grip on the back of Nickles head, attempts to launch him into the rickety mesh that’s surrounding the ring. But Nickles has enough strength to counter and throw a back elbow that staggers the Anarchy Champion sending him back away. Nickles charges but Graves tosses him with a back body drop that lands him in the center of the ring. Graves with an elbow drop to follow up. Nickles crawls over to the corner. Micheal looks as though he’d like to do some mudhole stomping when Charlie uses his grip on the rope to throw an upkick to the Anarchy Champion’s gut.

3:00 UNTIL DOOR UNLOCKED 2:59 2:58

TODD: I don’t really see the timer being an issue here. They may fight all night at this rate.

STARS: Gravy told Charlie that he’s the king of walking out. It makes me wonder if the true winner of this match isn’t the one who wants to leave.

TODD: …you son of a bitch.

STARS: What?

Charlie pulls himself back up to his feet, but Graves charges! But Charlie uses Graves’ own momentum against him, with a spinning powerslam right into the turnbuckles behind him! Graves lands head-first on the mat below, clutching his lower back!

STARS: Sick move there, Charlie. Perhaps I will let you clean this place up for me.

TODD: Are you talking to yourself? Or to Charlie?

STARS: Yes.

TODD: You’re deranged!

STARS: Hey, eyes and mouth on the match at hand, Todd. Our champion is in a lot of trouble right now.

This gives Charles the time he needs to grab up his barbed wire bat. He stalks Gravy with the bat held high over his head, ready to swing down. Micheal grabs Chuck by the waistband and pulls him forward into the corner. Charlie hits the top turnbuckle with some force and the barbed wire simply sticks to the mesh of the cage, leaving the bat itself hanging.

TODD: It may not be a part of your plan, but it honestly may be in Micheal Graves’s best interest to leave this cage as quickly as possible.

STARS: Oh ye of little faith. As if Graves’ ego isn’t as big and as bold as Charles’ in charge’s new belt.

Graves begins clubbing Charlie in the forehead with rapid fire forearm shots! Nickles staggers back. Graves comes flying out of the corner and he takes Nickles down to the canvas with a thunderous lariat!

TODD: Micheal Graves really starting to fight back, like he’s fighting for his life in there!

Graves takes a brief moment to look over at the door-

1:01 1:00 59

When Chuck catches him with an uppercut to the groin!

The 550+ in attendance here tonight all make a collective groan that’s hard to describe as Graves drops down to his knees in front of Charlie. Nickles, being the kind giving man that he is, drills Graves with a headbutt on the bridge of the nose before he begins to rip at the mask of Micheal Graves!

TODD: Oh no, Charlie doesn’t just want to punish Graves… he wants to steal his identity!

STARS: Charlie doesn’t buy this whole Alleged business.That’s why Bashy took things a step farther. Now we’re pretty damn sure it’s conceivable that what you see IS Micheal Graves.

TODD: What I see is blood from a potentially broken nose leaking out from the rip in the mask!

Graves knows he has to fight back, and fight back he does. From a knee he throws right hands up into Charlie’s features, eventually breaking the grip. Graves pops back up to his feet and Charlie immediately grabs him and irish whips him into the ropes. Graves comes charging back with a cross body attempt that Nickles ducks and Graves smacks the canvas and rolls all the way to the cage wall.

STARS: Precarious position here. Don’t want to be caught between the ropes and the mesh.

3 2 1 DOOR UNLOCKED

TODD: Well this changes everything!

STARS: We’ll see.

Charles doesn’t even blink at the doorway. With Graves working himself up between the ropes and the mesh, Charles grabs him by the mask with both hands and begins to slam the back of his head into the cage AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN! He does this until HE tires himself out, leaving Graves to slump over the ropes. Chuck then drags his limp body over the rope to the point where he’s draped over in his arms. Rope suspended DDT drops the Anarchy Champion right on the crown of his head!

TODD: Nickles isn’t stopping his onslaught.

STARS: He’s here to prove a point, Todd.

TODD: And what point might that be?

STARS: You can’t claim to be the best unless you are. Tonight we take a glimpse into what lengths these two top Champions would go to one up each other… and themselves.

Nickles limps over to the felt bag that fell much earlier on in the contest and laid undisturbed until now. He pulls it up and begins to undo the string that’s keeping the pouch tied shut at the top.

STARS: Any guesses as to what’s inside the bag?

TODD: It’s damned thumbtacks. Everyone in this building and watching at home tonight knows it!

Gravy, meanwhile, is showing signs of life, using the ropes and the cage wall to pull himself back up to wobbly feet. Charlie approaches with an inflated ego, taunting the man who he thinks is a standard mark and a fraud. Graves can barely stand right on spaghetti legs. But when Charlie shows him the bag, Graves gives the pouch a backhanded swipe. Knocking it on the mat, and yes, spilling out some of the thumbtacks in the process.

Charles scoops Graves up for another powerslam. He turns and aims for the bag. Just when he’s about to slam Graves down onto the exposed tacks, Micheal slips out from Charlie’s grip!

TODD: That was a close call!

Charlie turns to see Graves standing behind him. Graves goes for another lariat but Charlie ducks this one. Graves spins around and Charlie kicks the bag of thumbtacks straight at Micheal Graves, and Thumbtacks go flying everywhere throughout the ring! And even out into the crowd!

STARS: Well, shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

TODD: No shit!

Graves might even have some of those thumbtacks stuck on him… yes he does! He’s picking a tack or two that had attached themselves to his mask mid-flight. And Charlie uses this opportunity to scoop Graves right up and SIDEWALK SLAM HIM DOWN ONTO A PILE OF TACKS!

HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!!

Nickles has a smirk on his face as he lifts his hand up to show that, yes, his hand and the entire side of his ass got covered in tacks as well… but he doesn’t seem to care!

Meanwhile, Graves is rolling (carefully) around on the mat, trying to take pressure off of the tacks inside of his skin while trying not to add any others along the way (allegedly)!

TODD: You’ve turned this quaint little Athletic Club into a death chamber!

STARS: Quit being so dramatic. Hey Zeus.

Charles looks over at the doorway, but he shakes his head. No, he has more planned for Micheal Graves.

Charlie stands up and starts to undo the buckle of his pants…

TODD: We’ve seen this before!

STARS: I haven’t. Hopefully this isn’t normal!

Nickles yanks the leather belt out from the loops and he holds it high in the air for the crowd to see. He limps over to where Graves is writhing on the mat in sharp pain… and Nickles decides to add to it, by WHIPPING HIM ALONG THE TACKS STUCK IN HIS BACK!!

TODD: I think… I think I’m going to be sick.

STARS: Do that shit on your side.

TODD: Charlie Nickles is laying his belt to Micheal Graves’s thumbtack riddled ass!

WHACK. WHACK. WHACK. WHACK. WHACK.

Pure malice. Pure hatred. By the time Charles is done, there’s welts along Gravy’s back with thumbtacks sticking out of it, and the Gravy crew are considering tearing through the cage themselves to save their leader. Charlie motions towards the crowd that he’s ready to end this, once and for all.

TODD: Not sure what Charlie is thinking here. But it cannot be good!

STARS: No use in playing with your food, Chuck. Put him down.

Charles gathers up another pile of tacks by dragging his boot along the mat. He grabs Graves by the mask and forces him back to his feet.

CHARLIE KICKS GRAVES IN THE GUT, DOUBLING HIM OVER!

HE DOUBLE-UNDERHOOKS THE ARMS-

DEVIL HOOK-

NO!

Graves breaks his grip, spins out! Charlie charges at him but Gravy ducks a clothesline. By the time Chuck turns around, MASSIVE SHOTGUN DROPKICK INTO THE CORNER!

TODD: MICHEAL GRAVES counters! But how much did it take out of him?!

STARS: He’s losing a good bit of life juice there.

TODD: Fuck you Jimmy. Life juice? The fuck is wrong with you?!

Graves mounts the ropes and begins to rain down crimson right hands on the jaw of Nickles! The crowd counts along with each punch… 1… 2… 3… 4… NO!

CHARLIE grabs GRAVES in a powerbomb position!

Graves reaches out for something, anything he can grab a hold of!

THE BARBED WIRE BAT!

Charlie walks Graves over to the pile of tacks, but just about when he’s about to Jackknife him-

GRAVES GRINDS THE BARBED WIRE ACROSS CHARLIES FACE - RAKING HIM IN THE EYES WITH IT!

TODD: Alright, that’s it… I can’t watch!

STARS: DON’T FUCK OUR RATINGS, TODD!

Charlie is forced to let go and Graves drops down on his feet. Graves grabs Charlie with a front face lock!

He LIFTS!

CUTTER!

TODD: THE END ON THE TACKS!!! THE END ON THE TACKS!!!

STARS: BY GOD WHAT A SIGHT. OUR TWO TOP CHAMPIONS, BLEEDING LIKE STUCK PIGS!

Graves staggers back to his feet, but he can barely keep himself upright. He falls backwards onto the ropes by the door. The referee opens the door for him. But Graves simply has to look back one last time.

He sees Charlie Nickles, with tacks all in his crimson-masked face, smiling, and giving him the finger!

You know which finger!

Graves looks at the open door, and shakes his head. He turns himself around and gingerly walks over to Charlie, standing over him.

Graves slowly pulls Charlie back to his feet, takes him for another front face lock, and yanks him up!

BUT WHEN HE DOES, THE BARBED WIRE BAT IN CHARLIES HANDS COMES CRASHING UP INTO GRAVES CROTCH!

TODD: God damn it! Micheal Graves had the match won! All he had to do was walk out the damned door!

STARS: And there it is.

TODD: There what is?

STARS: The reason we need a man like Charlie to clean things up around here. Too much ego and pride.

TODD: You’re one to talk!

STARS: I am, aren’t I?

Charlie, heavily staggered now, takes Graves over to the pile of tacks remaining and double underhooks him again. Graves does everything he can to fight out of it, but Charlie is doing everything he can to drop him on his head one more time!

CHARLIE GOES FOR THE DEVIL HOOK DROP!

GRAVES COUNTERS WITH A BACK BODY DROP!

NO!

CHARLIE HOLDS ON! HE’S UPSIDE DOWN ON GRAVES’ BACK!

GRAVES CHARGES TOWARD THE CAGE WALL, SLAMMING CHARLIE’S ENTIRE BODY FULL FORCE INTO THE MESH!

TODD: Oh my God! How can Graves even hold Charlie up like that with all the blood he’s lost?

STARS: With the blood that he hasn’t yet lost. Duh.

CHARLIE’S GRIP WEAKENS!

GRAVES TAKES CHARLIE ON ANOTHER TRIP, TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE RING, THROWING BOTH THEM AT FULL FORCE-

THEY HIT THE DOOR AND IT SWINGS OPEN!

TODD: OOH! That was CLOSE!

STARS: Yeah…

TODD: They both almost fell out!

CHARLIE DROPS DOWN ON HIS FEET, WITH THE DOUBLE UNDERHOOK STILL LOCKED ON!

DEVIL HOOK DROP… CONNECTS!!!

GRAVES HEAD SLAMS INTO THE PILE OF TACKS FOREHEAD FIRST!!!

BUT THE MASSIVE IMPACT CAUSES MICHEAL TO BOUNCE RIGHT BACK UP TO HIS FEET…

HE STAGGERS BACKWARDS OVER TO THE ROPES…

AND STUMBLES THROUGH THEM!

OUT THE DOOR AND ONTO THE RINGSIDE FLOOR!

DING DING DING!!!

TODD: This HELL is FINALLY, MERCIFULLY, OVER!!!!

WINNER AND RECIPIENT OF NEW MERCH OPPORTUNITY COURTESY OF JIMMY STARS: MICHEAL GRAVES (CONCEIVABLY)

STARS: Boo!

Inside the ring, Charlie Nickles sits in a pool of their blood and spent thumbtacks, with the barbed wire baseball bat at his side.

He looks out to Micheal Graves laying on the ringside floor much the same.

And even though he was not declared the winner tonight.

Charlie sits pleased knowing that, in his mind, that his ring is just a little bit cleaner than when the night started.

Fade on Charlie Nickles being handed the Universal Championship belt with a genuine on his face, and with a thumbtack sticking out and through his one nostril.

Hold onto your Hats: Match Writers: The Maple Moose (JY) THE MACHINE (Considerably) Dolly Needs a Pardon A Nickle-Plated Big Gold Belt The Spirit of Ned Kaye Jimmy Motherfuckin’ Stars Segment Writers: A No Good Bastard (TK) Double Moose (JY) THE MACHINE (Allegedly) BASHY Hammerhead Shark/Summer SZN King Kraken Awakened RPers: You Your friends Your friends friends And in fifteen years, your crotch goblins “Is this… not… a stage divine?” See you in all in Two Weeks Where we'll do it all again- Much Love for you All- Our XWF Community