Cue the pyro. Cue the chaos. Cue the soundtrack for WARFARE.
IT’S SHOWTIME!
The camera sweeps across a sold-out Enterprise Center in St. Louis. Energy pulses through the air like static. The crowd is white-hot, roaring with anticipation as their faces flash across the X-Tron. Fans leap up and down, waving signs that read everything from “I LOVE LUCY” to “SHARK WEEK IS CANCELED!”
BG: Welcome to tonight’s edition of WARFARE, brought to you by the X-treme Wrestling Federation! We have some MAJOR matches lined up for you! I'm talking MULTIPLE championships on the line! I'm talking some of the best talent on the XWF roster, live in action here in St. Louis!
JC: That’s right, Brody! We’re still dealing with the fallout from Rebellion, but nonetheless, we’re throwing gasoline onto the flames tonight! Both Madison Dyson and Lucy Wylde will be defending their respective championship belts!
BG: We have two champions putting their belts on the line, we have the in-ring return of Aidan Collins, and I hear we might even be getting a concert from the alleged musician Frances Marigold tonight! It’s complete madness!
JC: It’s not madness, Brody- it’s WARFARE! And tonight’s going to be another classic episode! But first, we have an announcement from our beloved General Manager, Peter Principle!
Everyone in the arena is buzzing with excitement for tonight’s action… except for one man standing dead center in the ring. Peter Principal stands stiff, jaw tight, mic in hand. Beside him, an XWF-branded briefcase gleams on a sleek black pedestal.
He clears his throat.
But no one listens.
He taps on the mic.
No one listens.
He pulls from his pocket a butterknife and… taps it on the mic like it’s a glass at a wedding?
The crowd only continues to buzz.
BG: Principle’s an odd duck, huh?
JC: That may be, Brody! But he has zero means of controlling this unruly crowd!
BG: True!
JC: Kinda like he’s displayed zero competence corralling and controlling the XWF roster!
BG: Harsh!
Despite Principle’s best efforts, the crowd just gets louder, soaking in the opening madness of Warfare like it’s a festival. Popcorn flies, signs wave, a guy in section 214 is leading a “WE WANT TABLES” chant.
Peter slides the butter knife back into his pocket, his face growing visibly frustrated.
Peter: “Alright. Enough. Settle down!”
The crowd doesn’t.
Every time he speaks, the fans drown him out with the classic:
Crowd: “WHAT!”
Peter: “Tonight we are making a huge announcement—”
Crowd: “WHAT!”
Peter: “I said—”
Crowd: “WHAT!”
BG: This crowd needs to settle down and listen to what our General Manager has to say! It could be important!
JC: Oh calm down, Brody! When has Peter Principle ever said anything important?
BG: Touche!
Fans in the front row bang on the barricade to drown out Peter’s voice. Peter pulls away from the mic, seething, adjusting his blazer with a sharp tug as he closes his eyes and exhales hard.
BG: Peter doesn’t have anything close to a handle on this crowd! The XWF Universe is trampling all over him!
JC: What an APT metaphor, Brody!
Then—
BOOM!
The lights drop when the music hits. That’s when a burst of green and red pyro explodes across the stage.
BG: It’s CHARLIE NICKLES!
JC: Our newly crowned Universal Champion is here in St. Louis, Missouri!
Charlie Nickles steps through the curtain dressed to kill. He’s in an all-black suit, sharp and clean. The Universal Championship rests on his shoulder, microphone already in hand. Gray streaks line his beard, each one a reminder of a battle fought- and a war won.
The crowd erupts with a true split reaction. Half the arena chants his name like he’s a savior. The other half boos like he stole Christmas. And Charlie? Charlie just grins, soaking it all in.
BG: Charlie’s victory over James Shark at Rebellion has shaken the foundations of the XWF! So many people had written Charlie’s career off, and now, he holds the entire XWF Universe in the palm of his hand!
JC: A true “underdog” story, Charlie’s rise to the top proved that anything is possible if you’re willing to stoop low enough!
Charlie strides down the ramp slowly, savoring every second. Each step The Nickleman takes is deliberate and calculated. At the base of the steps he pauses, before climbing the stairs with measured grace. The crowd enters a quiet hush as Charlie finally enters the squared circle.
Inside the ring, Charlie briefly surveys his domain before setting his eyes on Peter.
Peter adjusts his tie and lifts the mic… As a smile creeps over his face… His voice now audible in the hush.
Peter: “As I was saying! Tonight marks a special occasion in the XWF. A course correction. A return to order. We’re not just handing out gold, we’re bringing prestige back to the Universal Championship!”
Peter gestures to the briefcase beside him but doesn’t open it just yet.
Peter: “Am I here to bash our past champions? For their failures at letting this company become a wild west!”
…
Peter lets a pause hang in the air, like he’s really considering being there to bash the old champions. The crowd starts booing!
Peter: "Of course not! Let’s just say they had other priorities than PRESERVING the SANCTITY of the XWF!”
“Some wanted to be emperors. Some kings.”
“...One dumb coke-headed buffoon wanted to be a shark.”
The crowd rumbles with mixed reactions.
JC: That is a direct jab at former Universal champion James Shark! He and Peter Principle have a famously contentious relationship!
Peter: “And while our so-called TOP CHAMPIONS.. were off chasing personal brands, seeking unimportant accomplishments… This company became a playground for CHAOS!”
“The Black Rainbow, slinking around like a Hot Topic fight club!”
“Dolly Waters and her little cosplay revolutionaries, holding anti-management book clubs backstage.”
Peter pauses, letting the crowd soak it in.
Peter: “And why? Because no one wielded their spot as the TOP CHAMPION with the responsibility it comes with! The DUTY to represent the XWF and its way of life!”
Peter moves to the briefcase, placing a hand on it with reverence.
Peter: “This championship isn’t just a belt. It’s a symbol of order. Of prestige. Of legacy. Of the line between wolves and sheep!”
He flips open the briefcase.
Inside rests the classic XWF Universal Championship: polished, pristine, untouched by faction wars or ego trips. It's the belt that built the legacy.
JC: Oooooooooh, so pretty…
BG: That hunk of gold has been fought over by some of the most talented grapplers to ever run the ropes!
Peter: “THIS! Is the REAL Universal Championship!
“The one that was… unwisely retired by Sebastian Everett-Bryce and replaced with his own vanity project.”
“But this belt here is the original. Uncompromised. Uncorrupted. 100% XWF!”
“And starting tonight… restored!”
“And I can’t think of a better man to welcome in the NEW AGE OF ORDER IN THE XWF… than our current Universal champion!”
“Our TOP GUY!”
“Your hero and mine!”
JC: I think I’m gonna be sick… Is he talking about…?”
Principle smiles ear-to-ear, before spinning on the man sharing the ring with him!
“So come on, Charlie! Go ahead and take what’s yours!”
BG: He is! He’s giving Charlie Nickles the big gold belt!”
Charlie steps forward.
Nickles lifts the SEB-designed title from his shoulder, staring down at the classic belt in the case. Then, with calm precision, he reaches in and lifts the classic title free. It gleams in the spotlight like it’s finally where it belongs. Charlie lowers the newer belt into the case — slowly and surely— before snapping it shut with finality. The sound echoes throughout the hushed arena.
JC: They’re trying to close shut this chapter of XWF history! But I shudder to think of what they might replace it with!
Then, Charlie slings the classic title over his shoulder. The crowd explodes again, with cheers and boos crashing down like waves. Charlie stands tall in the center of the ring, eyeing his new championship belt for what seems like an uncomfortable amount of time.
Until he finally turns towards the hardcam, raising his mic.
Charlie: “Peter said this belt was about prestige.
Legacy.
Order.
But let me tell you how I see it…”
The Nickleman raises his eyebrow as a smirk spreads across his face.
Charlie: “This belt? This is about finally taking back control.”
”Yes! Yes!” The camera mic barely picks up Peter off-screen, as he can’t resist but clapping for Charlie’s statement.
”I lost everything to get to this spot. I lost my family. My mind. My health. My soul? Hell, I might’ve traded that away three title reigns ago!
And for what?”
Charlie raises the old belt, slowly, reverently.
Charlie: “For this.
This belt… this is the real one. The one that stood tall before any Empires were built, before any Sharks bit the bullet. This ain’t about pretty plates or custom engraving..this is about pain. This is about power. This is about what I have EARNED!
And now that I got it?
I'm gonna’ squeeze every ounce out of this moment. Every drip of juice. Every bit of legacy that’s left in this gold, I’m gonna’ wring it dry and drink it down like it’s my goddamn birthright!
My control of the XWF means more than just holding a belt: it means setting all the rules, and then breaking apart anyone who thinks they can rewrite em’! I shattered expectations with my record-breaking TV title reign. I redefined what it means to be a ‘Television Champion’ in this company. Now, I’m bringing that same ruthless hunger to the entire XWF Universe!
I sacrificed everything along my path to the top.
Now, it’s time to make you all pay for every damn step I took!”
Charlie stares into the hardcam with vicious earnestness, treating the microphone like the barrel of his gun, getting ready to take shots at everyone!
Charlie: “Control means making it clear who pulls the strings around here. The XWF isn’t going to be a playground for freaks and weirdos anymore: as of tonight, it’s my hunting ground!
Take Black Rainbow, for example.
They think tagging the walls and flicking the lights makes this place their 'home.'
But those types of illusions don’t last long once the blood starts spilling.
Yelena Gorgo? She ain’t a monster: she’s just another rich girl playing dress-up. Paint your face all you want, sweetheart: that doesn’t make you ‘crazy’. It just makes you a clown. And now, she’s expanded her clown act into a whole damn circus!
Black Rainbow is a parade of nobodies pretending their trauma makes them dangerous. They mistake melodrama for menace, and we all suffer for it! They’re not a threat, they’re an embarrassment to this company.
Their little freakshow couldn’t fill an arena even if they paid the crowd by the hour! A circus that can’t sell a ticket, what a mess!
Black Rainbow had five segments at Rebellion. Five!
And for what?
Because it’s Pride Month?
Give me a break! All I saw at Rebellion was a little light show from a bunch of emo brats playing with the dimmer switch like it’s a Ouija board!
They may howl like wolves, but I know they’ll bleed like lambs. And if they start bleating around The Nickleman, I’m going to turn their whole circus into a slaughterhouse!”
The crowd lets their feelings known with a mixture of cheers and boos. Admittedly, a number of them are pleased at someone stepping up against Black Rainbow.
The other are disgusted by how giddily happy Principle is, hopping up and down excitedly around as Nickles deliver his wartime message!
The Nickleman pauses briefly after working himself into a lather. He wipes some spittle from his mouth before taking aim at another target in his sights.
Charlie: “And don’t even get me started on Dolly Waters and her little band of lunch-break Marxists!”
”No, please! Get started on ‘em!”
Charlie: ”She thinks cosplaying rebellion is the same thing as earning power. Dolly’s so damn entitled, she thinks she just DESERVES what is mine, as if through divine right!
But she’s never once put the work in to earn it.
Those socialist brats don’t know what it means to climb Geppetto’s Ladder rung by rung, boot by boot, skull by skull…but I do. I’ve earned my place in this company…but have they?”
”No! No! No!” Peter leans over the top rope with the microphone!
Peter: “No! No! No!”
BG: Peter Principle is out here trying to start a ‘No’ chant!
JC: And like every other time he’s tried to get the crowd to chant… it’s INEFFECTIVE!
Charlie: Time and time again Dolly’s been handed the moment, and every single time she fumbled it. You know why? Because she couldn’t commit to the climb. She couldn’t take the pain. She couldn’t put her soul through the grinder like I did.
So she tried to take the easy way out.
Peter was right to put her out the door!
”Yes, he was! …Er, I mean, yes, I was!”
Charlie: She’s trying to organize failure into something noble. Trying to unionize her way to the top instead of earning it! She rounded up a few curtain-jerkers and has-beens who couldn’t find gold if they were trapped in a mine, and now they think that if they march loud enough and stomp hard enough, they’ll skip the line!
But this ain’t some student protest.
This is the XWF!
And I’m the consequence for people who think our rules don’t apply to them. Peter slammed the door on Dolly for a reason: and now, I’m the one keeping it shut!
But mark my words:
She won’t stay gone for long.
Roaches like Dolly always come crawling back.
And when she does?
I’ll be here, waiting.
With a spotlight…
And my hammer!"
Peter beams with pride as he claps his right hand into the microphone!
Charlie lifts the classic belt high into the sky, as if it were Thor’s mighty weapon. The crowd pops! The belt shines under the spotlights, like an angelic artifact from a nearly forgotten time. After milking the crowd’s reaction for all it’s worth, Charlie slowly raises the microphone back up to his lips.
Charlie: “This belt isn’t just a throwback.
It’s a warning shot.”
Nickles turns and faces Peter, who nods slightly, his arms crossed and his expression deadly serious.
Charlie: “I’m not here to babysit twitter-brats.
I’m here to break anyone who thinks they’re bigger than the company that made em’.
I didn’t scratch and claw my way back to the top just to watch some Hot Topic cult or liberal protest group piss all over the very thing I bled for.”
The Nickleman steps forward and locks eyes with Peter Principal, who simply carries on nodding.
Charlie: “And now?
Now that I’ve got the belt that they all want...I’m the one holding the leash.
And it sounds like I’ve got Peter’s blessing to start yanking!”
”Yank! Yank with all you’ve got!”
Charlie turns back to the camera, his voice low, practically a snarl.
Charlie: “So starting this Thursday Night, I’m tightening that leash!”
He smirks, tapping the belt on his shoulder like it’s a loaded weapon.
Charlie: “Ol’ Gravy’s been howling down on Anarchy like he’s the big dog on the block.
But I’m a dog too, Graves.
The one you keep chained to a post until it’s time to maul something.
I don’t bark. I don’t play fetch.
I just take mutts out behind the shed and put ‘em down!”
Charlie adjusts the title belt, his eyes burning a hole through the lens of the hardcam.
Charlie: “Ol’ Gravy has pissed on every post and marked every corner of that little sandbox for his own.
But that ain’t territory, that’s just delusion.
So when I step onto his turf this Thursday?
I’m not just walking into Anarchy…
I’m declaring martial law!”
The crowd pops as Charlie issues his veiled threats to the whole Anarchy roster!
Charlie: “You’ll be the first tug on the leash, Graves.
And when your knees buckle and your lungs give out?
The rest of the locker room is gonna’ feel the choke!”
Charlie turns slowly, standing shoulder to shoulder with Peter Principal. The crowd roars, but Charlie doesn’t even flinch.
Charlie: “Peter wanted order.
Peter wanted control.
Peter wanted a champion who could clean this place up…”
Charlie lifts the classic Universal Championship up in front of Peter Principal, the belt gleaming under the spotlights as the pair lock eyes.
Charlie: “Well, congratulations…
You’ve got one!”
The lights burn brighter as the crowd noise peaks. Charlie snarls as he lowers his microphone, as Peter rushes to be the first to shake Nickles’s hand post-speech… Instead, Charlie turns away from the Warfare GM as he looks back at the camera. With the tip of his finger, he slowly begins tapping the nameplate of his title like a trigger being teased. Then, Charlie walks back to the briefcase with a gleam in his eye. As the crowd roars, Charlie picks up the briefcase and exits the ring, with one belt on his shoulder and another in his hands.
As Charlie walks up the ramp with both belts, Peter Principle stays in the center of the ring, shaking his own snubbed hand, before wringing them both fiendishly!
BG: What did Charlie Nickles mean by that?! Peter’s gone one?!
JC: I’m not exactly sure, Brody: but I know that it can’t be good for the rest of the XWF!
When The Storm is Coming hits Latoya Hixx. they heard a voice laugh in the background and saw blue lights from the entrance and some smoke and rainfall coming down she walked onto the middle stage flexed her muscles walked straight down towards the aisle slapped a few XWF fans got inside the ring and dim the lights in the ring and she flexes her arms once more and spread her arms and climbs on the top rope and yell at her fans and tells them to let's go and climbs down off the ropes and waits for her opponent to arrive.
JC: We are kicking off tonight's card with a highly anticipated match-up! Hixx vs Jolee!
BG: FEMALE ON FEMALE ACTION, live right here on Warfare!
JC: That's right, Brody! Latoya Hixx has become a fan-favorite on the Anarchy brand, and now, she's bringing the good fight right here to St. Louis!
BG: I'll tell you one thing: Latoya Hixx is due for a big win! And tonight could just be the night for it!
The guitar opening of “Plowed” by Sponge begins to play over the P.A system bringing attention to the stage as the lights strobe as if in sync with the tempo of the song.
Will I wake up, some dream I made up
No, I guess it's reality
What will change us, or will we mess up
Our only chance to connect with a dream
-KA-BOOM!-
The fireworks explode off the top of the tron bringing the end to the strobes as a spotlight illuminates the figure of Tatiana Jolee standing there. Dressed in her blackout ring attire with matching boots and pads - her hair is pulled up in a bun and she has a black leather jacket with the Canadian flag on the back.
Say a prayer for me
(Say a prayer for me)
Say a prayer for me
Say a prayer for me
(Say a prayer for me)
I'm buried by the sound
Of a world of human wreckage
In a world of human wreckage
In a world of human wreckage
Where I'm lost and I'm found, and I can't touch the ground
I'm plowed into the sound
Announcer: “Making her way to the ring, from Vancouver, British Columbia… TATIANA JOOOOOLEEEE!”
To see wide open with a head that's broken
Hang a life on some tragedy
Plow me under the ground that covers
The message that is the seed
With a confident expression, she heads down the ramp, walking up the ring steps and gliding across the apron. She pauses briefly to wipe her boots on the apron out of respect for all who share this ring. TJ enters through the middle ropes giving the hard camera a smirk and a little wink while removing her jacket before using the ropes in the corner to do one last mini-stretch - gathering herself for the fight ahead.
BG: Tatiana Jolee is the pride and soul of the last remaining wrestling traditionalists. She knows every move, every counter, she's seen it and done it all a million times. There's nothing you can do in that ring that can catch Jolee off guard, and that in and of itself makes her incredibly dangerous!
JC: I know one thing, Brody: I wouldn't want to get in between these two women tonight! We are opening Warfare with a certified BARN-BURNER!
BG: The only question is...which of these two ladies is going to spark the flames first?!
DING! DING! DING!
Latoya Hixx
- vs -
Tatiana Jolee Singles
Latoya charges across the ring and Tatiana ducks low, slipping behind for a quick waistlock. Latoya throws a wild back elbow, but Tatiana evades, twisting her opponent into a hammerlock. Latoya powers out, flinging Tatiana off with ease, but Tatiana lands on her feet and instantly sweeps the leg. Latoya rolls through, kips up with startling athleticism, and swings for a lariat. Tatiana ducks again, rebounds off the ropes, and fires a dropkick to the knee, trying to chip away at the base of the bigger woman!
The kick staggers Latoya, but not for long. Tatiana closes in, launching into a barrage of quick kicks to the thigh and ribs, keeping her distance with sharp precision. She ducks low and snatches Latoya’s arm into a snapmare, follows with a kick to the spine, and floats into a grounded hammerlock. It’s slick and it’s smooth, but Latoya grits her teeth and muscles out, rising with Tatiana still clinging to her back.
JC: We are off to a sizzling hot start tonight! Latoya is taking the fight right to Tatiana, trying to use that size differential to her advantage!
BG: But Tatiana is too smooth, too experienced! Latoya has gotten a lot more experienced since she first debuted in the XWF, but Tatiana still has years and years of experience on her- and she's using THAT differential to her advantage!
Latoya drives Tatiana backwards into the corner like a battering ram. She then delivers a slew of hard elbows to the face until Jolee finally breaks the hold. Hixx spins, grabs Tatiana by the wrist, and hurls her across the entire length of the ring ring with startling force! Tatiana hits the turnbuckle hard. Before she can breathe, Latoya rushes in and crushes her with a corner splash that rattles the ropes.
BG: But it seems like size DOES still matter!
Tatiana crumples to a knee from the vicious force. Latoya yanks her right back up, muscles her into a double underhook, and drives her down with a facebuster that shakes the mat. Hixx makes the quick cover!
1!
2!!
KICKOUT!!!
JC: It's going to take a lot more than that to put Jolee out!
BG: But we're starting to get there! So far, Latoya Hixx has looked great! She finally looks ready for the big leagues!
Tatiana rolls to her side, clutching her ribs. Latoya towers above her, the size difference becoming jarring on camera. Hixx grabs Tatiana again and hoists her up in a stalling vertical suplex, holding her for a full count of five before dropping her flat.
Tatiana’s eyes flicker as her chest rises and falls. She slides to the ropes, using them to pull herself up as Latoya stalks forward again. This time, Tatiana pulls the rope down when Hixx charges, sending Latoya stumbling to the outside!
JC: That might've just been the change in momentum that Jolee needed!
Tatiana quickly follows her to the outside, quickly following up her offensive combination as soon as Latoya Hixx rises to her feet. Jolee hits her with a slew of leg kicks, crippling Hixx against the barricade as she leans on it for support. Then, Jolee leaves her feet for a dropkick that connects right on Hixx's chin! The crowd pops crazy as a nosefull of blood squirts out of Hixx's face!
Jolee then rolls Hixx back in, taking a deep breath as Latoya slowly climbs to her feet with the assistance of the ringside ropes. Tatiana then sprints and hits a running forearm that staggers the bigger woman. Tatiana backs up momentarily, before charging in with yet ANOTHER forearm. She hooks Latoya’s head and lifts her into the air with an incredible suplex that takes every ounce of strength Jolee has. She grits her teeth through the landing and floats into a side headlock on the mat, locking it in immediately!
BG: Tatiana Jolee has taken complete control of this match! What started off as a brutal mismatch, has turned into a one-woman wrestling clinic!
JC: Jolee has achieved complete mastery of the squared circle: the longer that this match goes on, the more time she has to wear down her opponent's defenses!
Suddenly, Latoya powers up, lifting Tatiana off the mat with pure brute force! Tatiana hangs on to the headlock, trying to wrench Hixx down again, but Latoya backs her into the corner and unloads with thunderous body shots! One! Two! Three! Tatiana doubles over from the sheer force, releasing the hold!
Latoya sets up for a Canadian Destroyer as Jolee is still woozy—but Tatiana senses it. She plants her feet, sandbags the Canadian destroyer, and miraculously flips Latoya over her back! As Latoya attempts to rise, Tatiana stuns her with a sharp slap to the face, and then hits the ropes for momentum, before leaping off her feet for a running crossbody:
BUT Latoya snatches her midair with a monstrous spinebuster that shakes the ring!
Hixx makes the cover!
1!
2!!!!
KICKOUT!!!!
JC: JOLEE FIGHTS ON!
BG: What does Hixx have to do to end this match?! No matter what she does, she can't put Jolee down!
Latoya glares at the ref, jaw clenched. Latoya then stands, fists clenched, shouting in disbelief. She slaps the ropes, her face twisting with frustration. She then grabs Tatiana by the arm, hauling her up for another big move: but Tatiana counters with a desperation headbutt to the chin! Latoya stumbles backwards, clearly dazed and confused.
Tatiana staggers back into the corner, panting, sweat pouring down her brow. Her lip is split, her eyes glassy, but her eyes are still burning with fire! Jolee slaps the ropes again and again, psyching herself up- and simultaneously drawing the attention AND ire of Latoya Hixx!
So Latoya charges!
But Tatiana sidesteps...sending Latoya chest-first into the corner!
Tatiana then steps behind Hixx and traps her arms, bringing Latoya back with a high-angle bridging German suplex, but she doesn’t hold the bridge at all! Instead, Jolee transitions like a smooth criminal. She floats over Hixx, mounts Latoya’s back, isolates her arm, hooks her chin, and traps the other arm with her leg! She wrenches back on the devastating submission maneuver!
JC: THE CALGARY CRIPPLER! I DON'T KNOW HOW LATOYA'S GETTING OUT OF THIS!
BG: I DON'T KNOW HOW ANYONE'S GETTING OUT OF IT! LATOYA HAS TO TAP HERE, OR HER NECK'S GETTING BROKEN!
JC: HIXX DOESN'T HAVE A CHOICE- SHE HAS TO TAP!
The crowd surges as Latoya howls in pain, clawing at the mat, trying desperately to crawl towards the ropes...but it's no use! Every time she tries to move, Tatianna cranks the captain's hook submission even harder! The pressure of the move arcs Hixx's spine unnaturally, as if Jolee were trying to rip her very head from her neck!
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The bell rings as Latoya Hixx is finally forced to submit!
Winner by SUBMISSION - Tatiana Jolee!
Tatiana collapses off Hixx, rolling onto her back, soaked in sweat. When Jolee finally rises, her hand is raised by the referee...all while Hixx is hunched over in the corner, quietly trying to regain her breath!
JC: What a huge win tonight for the veteran! Tatiana Jolee had to dig deep to fight off one of Anarchy's fastest rising stars...but Jolee once again showed off her incredible technical skills! Latoya Hixx fought like hell, but at the end of the night, only Tatiana is walking out of Warfare with the win!
BG: Not only that, but Jolee is now putting together something of a winning streak! If Jolee keeps building that momentum, she could be a real problem for anyone on the roster!
The crowd chants for Tatiana as she exits the ring and starts walking back up the ramp, slowly, with a slight limp. The battle tonight had taken everything Jolee had to give, but from the smile on her face, you know she's savoring every second!
INT. UNKNOWN LOCATION.
Shot on a vertically held iPhone. The video opens with dim, flickering light—either candle or exposed bulb. A soft electrical buzz hangs beneath the silence. Behind her, the wall is dark and matte, texture unclear. It could be stone. It could be something older.
EMILIA GLAZKOV. She’s on the floor, a heap of black robe and tucked-in knees. The phone gets too close for a second—a smear of cheek, a blur of motion—then she scoots back, finding the center of the frame. One of her hands is gloved, the black fingers smudged with a smear of lipstick, a violent red. The same red stains her mouth. When she speaks, her voice is a whisper that tries too hard to be steady.
On her neck, below the left ear, dental indentations are surrounded by soft bruises. No indication of the source.
EMILIA (soft, breathless)
I keep trying to say this the right way.
She adjusts the camera. Rests it somewhere stable. Her eyes stay fixed on the lens.
EMILIA
But you know me.
I never really say it right.
Not with you.
She tries to laugh. It doesn’t come out right. Her smile fades. She wipes beneath her eye, smudging her eyeliner. Her glove leaves a faint dark mark on her cheek.
EMILIA
You were…
Pause. She tilts her head slightly. Listening to something that isn’t there.
EMILIA
You were supposed to hate me.
And maybe you do.
I hope you do.
It would make this easier.
Would make me easier to live with.
She lowers her eyes. Inhales slowly. Her mouth opens like she’s about to say something else—but stops. She adjusts again, lowering the angle of the camera slightly.
EMILIA
I watch your matches.
Still.
Sometimes I lie about it—but I do.
Her eyes brighten with unspeakable clarity. She leans in just a little.
EMILIA
I listen to the sound you make when you fall.
It’s never the same.
You… you always land differently.
She smiles. It’s too wide. Too fond. Her tongue touches her lip, dragging red further outward.
EMILIA
That’s the problem.
You never broke the same way twice.
The light flickers. Her expression sharpens—childlike, devoted.
EMILIA
And now they all want to protect you.
They see light in you.
She lifts her chin, voice cooling.
EMILIA
I don’t see light, Aurora.
I see raw skin.
I see what you don’t want them to.
The part of you that wants this.
Wants me.
Her fingers drift to her mouth. Two gloved fingertips press gently to her lips. Then drop.
EMILIA
You don’t have to admit it.
I’ll carry that secret for both of us.
The room is quiet. Only her shallow breath and the faint hum.
Then—
EMILIA
Tonight…
She closes her eyes. When she opens them, they’re glassy, still.
EMILIA
You will hear bell.
You will turn and see me.
Her voice cracks, not from sadness—but joy. And possession.
EMILIA
And will be holding flowers.
Just for you.
Her face inches closer to the camera. A whisper—spoken like a lullaby.
EMILIA
Pretty things...
always wilt better when they struggle.
Her eyes hold steady. No blink. No smile. Just silence.
[RECORDING ENDS]
The lights cut to black. Not dramatic—funereal. The crowd’s noise dies without being asked.
Then the static comes: soft at first, like whispers caught in candlelight, then growing louder, deeper—until it crackles into the opening pulse of “Bitches Brew” by †††.
A long, low beat drops. Thick. Diseased. Measured like a heartbeat that’s been slowed by something cruel.
The entrance screen flickers not with pyro—but with a sigil. A glowing ring of violet flame surrounding a single word: “ADVOCATE.”
Then she arrives.
Emilia Glazkov steps into the spotlight, veiled in shadows and dressed like prophecy:
Her cloak billows behind her like torn cathedral drapery, sheer and trailing, carved down the middle to reveal black vinyl beneath.
Her shoulderplates catch the red light, reflecting it in shattered, molten splinters. They look too heavy for most, but she wears them like wings.
Her wide-brimmed hat floats above her like a halo of midnight—its ring of glowing spokes etched with runes that rotate with each step.
Her eyes? Smeared black. Her mouth? Still. Her presence? Sacrament.
JC: The Advocate of the Black Rainbow! An absolutely terrifying presence! We’ve seen her in brief flashes, but for the first time, Emilia Glazkov is entering the ring to compete!
BG: We’ve seen a lot of truly monstrous competitors in the XWF! But this lady? She gives me the heebie jeebies…
She walks without rushing. Not with confidence—with inevitability. Every motion says: you are not watching me enter. You are watching me arrive.
She reaches the foot of the ramp.
Stops.
Raises both arms—not to the crowd, but to the ceiling, the lights, the unseen.
She tilts her head back, whispers something, and flicks her fingers as if casting it away.
Then she climbs the stairs.
Her boots thud—leather and steel echoing like a funeral drum. The camera closes in on her legs as the cloak parts: fishnet-tight skin, ritual ink glinting along her thigh.
On her left boot, stitched into the leather just above the knee: a crimson rune, pulsing faintly like a warning.
She enters the ring. No theatrics. No spinning. No posing. She moves to the second rope, front and center, and climbs with ease. Then she spreads her arms wide. Head lifted. Eyes closed. Mouth slightly open—like she’s listening for an answer only the dead can give.
The hat’s runes flare once—then burn out, their embers trailing off like stars bleeding into night.
Her cloak flutters down her back. Her chest is bare of armor, only pale skin and painted glyphs across her sternum, right beneath the embroidered word: ADVOCATE.
JC: Emilia Glazkov… She made clear this week… She’s not here to climb to the top.
BG: …Very atypical for a competitor on our roster.
JC: Instead, she is here to herald the dawn of a new age. The coming of horrors beyond our mortal comprehension. The end is nigh, according to Emilia’s masters, and Glazkov is the fire in the sky warning us that we will all be witness to a great becoming.
BG: …Jackie boy, you’re scaring me.
For a moment, she holds the ring in silence. Then drops from the ropes.
Her boots hit the canvas like judgment.
The cloak slips from her shoulders, caught by a gust no one else feels.
She is revealed beneath: black corset top, exposed stomach, mesh-paneled legs, gauntleted hands with black claws twitching like they miss the altar.
She walks to her corner. Turns. Waits.
Not to be introduced.
Not to be admired.
To be obeyed.
…
The lights die without warning. Not a fade, but a full blackout that sucks the air out of the arena like the calm before a fire. Then, a strobing light, lime green, flares beneath the metal of the floor. Another, quicker and sharper. A third, holding longer now. Long enough for the crowd to catch a glimpse of the static forming on the screen overhead.
The distorted bass of “DEATHLIST” by Code: Pandorum and GHØSTKID blares across the arena’s speaker system low, grinding and industrial. It doesn't start like music, but more like a warning. Like the hum of something broken beneath concrete.The speakers rattle, and with them the crowd begins to stir as the opening continues to play, rhythmic and angry. Noise from the crowd rolls through like a cold draft in a sealed room, a few cheers, a few chants. But mostly unease.
"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?
Can I trust you without failing you?
Gonna tell you what the secret is...
You're number one on my DEATHLIST."
Whispered, the lyric doesn't rise above the crowd but cuts under it, precise and personal. The music drops out completely, not a fade, and not a glitch, just the same as the lights as they die out entirely. But then, detonation as the bass slams back in without warning, twisted and violent, louder than before. Strobe lights erupt in a manic wash of toxic green, casting sharp, flickering shadows across the sate. It's disorienting, like a spotlight wielded as a weapon. Motionless in that moment, Dickie Watson stands framed in light. No grand pose, no war cry, hair falling in his face and shoulders loose like man who doesn't need to prove he belongs here -- he already knows he does.
JC: Dickie Watson! Multi-time World Champion across the industry! One of the most highly decorated competitors to ever run the ropes!
BG: But has he replicated that success in the XWF? Hell no!
JC: Dickie Watson has taken on some of the highest-level competitors to ever grace this company, Brody! He’s had a road no one would call easy! And he’s demonstrated the heart of a champion by fighting back into the ring tonight! And if you’ve followed Dickie in other companies, you know just how un-wise it is to count Dickie down and out! If anything, that’s when he’s most dangerous!
He holds this, eyes floating over everyone, and then moves a beat later. Not with urgency, not with showmanship. Just steps forward like the rest of the world is moving slower than him. He doesn't look to the sides, doesn't soak it in. He's not here for the moment, he's here for the thrill. Every movement is precise, like a blade being unsheathed. Quiet, measured. He walks down the ramp towards the ring, eyes still glancing off to the side, turning his head slightly to acknowledge fans and enemies alike. At the barricade, he reaches out and slaps a few hands not necessarily out of respect, but more of obligation. These are the people who kept him alive for so long, and what he does this for.
BG: I hear you, Jacko, Dickie’s a talent, I’ll give him that! But how’s he gonna fare against Emilia Glazkov?
JC: It’s an unorthodox pairing for sure, Brody! On an experience level, you gotta give the advantage to Dickie. Speed? Closer but probably Dickie. But, in terms of willingness to inflict pain? The ability to turn off any sort of empathy and MAIM someone for a win? Ya gotta give it to Glazkov.
BG: I agree in every way but one, Jacko. I don’t think Emilia has to “turn off” her empathy. I don’t think she’s got a drop of empathy in her whole body.
He rounds the corner to right, bypasses the steps, and jumps, both feet hitting the apron in one clean lift. Without grabbing the ropes, without pause, he slings himself over the top and lands near the dead center of the ring, bent knees taking the brunt of his leap. He circles the ring once, loose-limbed, cracking his neck slightly, and stops. Near the far corner, he crouches with his elbows on his knees, fingers dangling inbetween as his music fades.
DING DING DING!
DICKIE WATSON
- vs -
EMILIA GLAZKOV Singles
Dickie Watson takes a slow, low step forward, his expression focused and precise. His eyes never leave Emilia’s face—he’s measuring every twitch, every micro-expression. He knows how to read people. That’s his game.
Emilia Glazkov tilts her head ever so slightly, her mouth parted in a ghost of a smile. Her body sways slightly side to side, almost as if in a trance, as she reaches her arms out like a wraith summoning something ancient. Her fingers flex like claws, not in aggression—but in reverence.
JC: Again, we’re seeing just how different these competitors are in the early-going… Dickie showed up for a wrestling match… Emilia showed up to worship!
BG: And she’s gonna write her holy message in blood… And use Dickie’s skin as her writing paper!
Dickie sees the sway, sees the looseness, and recognizes the trap—so he fakes a lock-up, then darts low with a sudden drop toe hold. He pops up to one knee, nodding slightly, the hint of a grin twitching on his lips.
Emilia falls with a muted grunt, expression unchanged. She rises slowly, deliberately, brushing her hair from her face as if nothing just happened.
Dickie, encouraged by the lack of urgency, rushes in again—this time catching her with a snapmare, then rebounds off the ropes and hits a basement dropkick to the spine.
Emilia arches, mouth opened wide in silent pain—but her eyes light up with something different. She’s smiling now. Her breathing quickens—not panicked, but thrilled.
Dickie’s grin falters. He sees it. That grin. That hunger. It doesn’t shake him—but it slows him.
JC: “Dickie Watson is doing what he does best—pickin’ apart openings like a surgeon with a grudge—but Emilia Glazkov isn’t reacting like a normal competitor.”
BG: “That’s ‘cause she ain’t normal, Jacuinde. She ain’t here to win—she’s here to commune.”
Dickie, undeterred, shoots in again. He fakes left, ducks a slow strike, and lands a running European uppercut that sends Emilia reeling into the corner.
He charges, lifts a knee—
But Emilia, eyes suddenly wide with lucidity, catches the leg with both arms, her mouth open in ecstatic awe, as if she’s been waiting for this gift.
JC: Whoa! It looked early-on like Dickie was going to out-experience Glazkov all the way to the winner’s circle! But the new-to-the-ring Glazkov just pulled an amazing counter off on a former world champion!
With sudden violence, Emilia sweeps Dickie’s planted leg and pulls him into a tight Modified Heel Hook—wrenching it as she falls backward.
Dickie’s face twists. He yells out, hands clawing at the canvas, eyes darting to the ropes.
Emilia tightens the grip, her back arched, whispering something to herself in a language no one can quite place. Her body moves rhythmically—ritualistically—with every crank of the submission.
Dickie, grimacing, plants an elbow and tries to pivot his body—but Emilia rolls with him, transitioning into a Double Wrist Clutch, pulling his arms wide and digging her knee into the side of his ribs.
JC: “This is what Emilia Glazkov does! She doesn’t just trap you—she inhabits you. She breaks you intimately.”
BG: “That’s the Left Hand of Maraeth for ya! Ain’t nothin’ personal—it’s divine punishment!”
Dickie grits his teeth, neck muscles tensing as he stiffens his core, trying to twist his hip enough to free one arm—but Emilia’s grip only gets tighter.
She lets out a low sigh—almost a moan—her eyes fluttering shut as she sinks in deeper.
Dickie’s eyes burn. He slams a fist on the mat—not in surrender, but frustration. He’s been in bad holds before. But this isn’t about torque or technique—it’s about breaking something inside him. And that… unnerves him.
Dickie, still caught in the wrist-clutch hold, snarls through gritted teeth as he yanks his right arm free and shoves at Emilia’s face—just enough space to roll, escape, and crawl toward the ropes.
His movements are sharp, but slowing. The wear and precision of Glazkov’s offense is taking a toll. He winces with every step, one leg dragging slightly behind.
Emilia, rising like a marionette lifted by unseen strings, floats after him with her arms spread wide—reaching, not to catch, but to gather.
Dickie gets his hands on the bottom rope, panting. His expression flickers—his mind running fast, but his body not keeping up.
Emilia’s lips move, whispering something into her palm, which she then presses to Dickie’s shoulder like a dark blessing.
Then—
THROAT HYMN (CORNER ROPE CHOKE)!
Her face is blank. Almost peaceful. She wraps her arms around Dickie’s throat from behind and wrenches back, dragging him against the ropes with a suffocating clutch, hanging off his back like a demon mid-exorcism.
Dickie’s eyes fly wide, his mouth agape, legs kicking. The pressure is immediate and complete.
The referee dives in—
Referee: “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR—Let go, Emilia!”
She doesn’t. Her head tilts to one side. Her lips move again. A prayer? A eulogy?
Only when the official’s voice cracks, pleading with a note of real fear, does Emilia release the hold, stepping back in silence as Dickie crumples into the corner, gasping like a man pulled from underwater.
JC: “That wasn’t just illegal—that was inhumane! This isn’t a match to her anymore. This is a ritual.”
BG: “She calls it the Throat Hymn. That’s devotion, Jacuinde. That’s church. And Dickie? He’s just the sermon.”
Emilia kneels down beside Dickie, her fingers gently brushing the hair from his sweat-matted forehead. She hums—a low, melodic tune. Her expression is unreadable.
Then she pulls him by the arm and leg into the center of the ring. Slowly. Precisely. Positioning him. Preparing him.
She steps over his body, lowers herself down, and begins to wrap her legs around his head and shoulder—setting in—
IT’S MOURNING IN SAINT LOUIS (Triangle Choke)!
Dickie, dazed, reacts too late as she locks one leg over the back of his neck.
His eyes shoot open.
His hands immediately go to her knee, pulling at it in desperation.
Her hips shift.
The choke cinches tighter.
His legs kick—his fingers dig into the mat.
But then—he plants a foot. Leverages his weight. Slips a shoulder—
AND TWISTS HIS TORSO, rolling into the choke’s pressure just enough to slip out! He gasps as air floods back into his lungs.
BG: “He wriggled. That wasn’t skill, that was desperation.”
Emilia, momentarily surprised, rises in one smooth, upright motion. Her serenity breaks for just a second—her eyes narrow.
She steps forward, reaching for Dickie again, intent to rebind him in pain—
But Dickie, jaw set, eyes burning with clarity, sprints off the ropes—
AND CRACKS HER ACROSS THE FACE WITH A RUNNING KNEE!
Emilia’s head jerks violently, and she collapses backwards to the mat, arms spread.
Dickie drops to a knee, clutching his chest, panting. The crowd ROARS.
JC: “Watson’s back in this! I don’t know how, but he’s back!”
BG: “He’s a rat in a fire. You corner a man like that, he’ll bite.”
Dickie Watson, still reeling from the choke attempt and the abuse absorbed over the match, braces a hand on his knee and forces himself upright. His mouth is open wide, lungs desperate—but his eyes? Clearer than they’ve been all match. There’s no confusion now. Only grit.
Emilia Glazkov stirs on the mat, face turned slightly to the side, hair veiling her features. But even beneath it, we can see her chest rising rhythmically. Controlled. Deliberate. Still tethered to whatever dark ritual she thinks she’s performing.
Dickie slaps the mat once—a spark—and then explodes into motion, dashing into the ropes with newfound purpose.
He comes back around—baseball slide dropkick to Emilia’s hip just as she kneels—she spins and drops.
She rises again—knife-edge chop! The crack echoes in the arena.
Emilia’s face contorts—not from pain, but from something unfamiliar: frustration.
Dickie hits the ropes again—dropkick! Emilia goes down hard.
She scrambles up again—
ANOTHER dropkick. She hits the mat a third time, clutching her chest.
JC: “Watson’s flying! High speed. High stakes. That’s the Dickie we’ve seen dominate every company he’s waged war in!”
BG: “You keep pokin’ a ghost, Jacuinde, sooner or later, it bites back.”
Emilia’s expression shifts. The quiet reverence shatters. Her breathing grows faster. Her brows knit tight. Her fingers curl like claws. Whatever communion she had with her god is momentarily interrupted.
She snarls—lunging at Dickie’s arm, trying to yank him into a wristlock—
But Dickie counters, twisting his hips and wheelbarrow arm-dragging her to the canvas!
The momentum sends her sliding across the ring!
**Dickie kips up—**he's feeling it now, hair wild, teeth bared in defiance.
The crowd ERUPTS!
Dickie, brimming with fire, stalks toward Emilia. He reaches down—grabbing her by the hair, pulling her to her feet.
But then—
CRACK.
A HEADBUTT. Right under the eye.
JC: WOW! That one was gnarly!
Dickie’s body jolts, his face crumpling as he drops to one knee. The headbutt was vicious, primal…
Emilia’s face twists into a vicious sneer, the mask of frustration melting back into her eerie, solemn fanaticism.
She lowers both fists beneath Dickie’s chin—lifting his face toward her own, as if offering him to Maraeth once and for all.
She whispers a prayer.
Then winds her whole body for the HOLLOW KISS—the spinning backfist that’s ended countless matches—
BUT DICKIE DUCKS.
Emilia spins a full 360, overcommitting—she turns back to face him—
AND DICKIE SCOOPS HER UP IN ONE MOTION!
DICKIE’S REVENGE! (Modified Lifting Reverse STO—slam face-first into the canvas!)
Emilia’s body bounces off the mat—limp, out cold, arms splayed.
Dickie collapses on top—
The official counts!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER: DICKIE WATSON
Dickie rolls off her, holding his face where the headbutt landed, blood beginning to trickle from a cut beneath his eye.
He doesn’t stand.
He just stares up at the lights, chest heaving.
Emilia lies still. Eyes closed. Expression peaceful again. Like the offering was accepted, even in defeat.
[white]JC: “HE DID IT! DICKIE WATSON SURVIVES EMILIA GLAZKOV! What a battle!”
BG: “He didn’t win, Jacuinde… He escaped. There’s a difference.”
BACKSTAGE
We take it backstage, where even early on there’s plenty to be done. A small group is unloading reinforcements for the Main Event X-Treme Championship match. In pairs, they carry along pieces of barricading through the dock and through double doors. Their focus on the task at hand is commendable, especially in the eyes of someone who has felt his efforts in the XWF have been recognized, too.
Larry Tact stands with one leg bending with the heel of his boot touching the cinder block wall. He reaches out and catches the swinging door within reach that leads to the backstage hallways, receiving thanks from the nearest stagehand shuttling equipment along as they go through the doors. As the groups pass by, and Larry lets go of the door he’s holding… he sees who held the other door.
The one we have come to know as Messenger, flanked by large figures covered in cloaks, concealing their intentions.
Messenger: Why, hello there, Mister Tact.
It isn’t lost on Larry, who involuntarily feels a few muscles flexing under his brand new NY Mets Hawaiian shirt he brought with him for Warfare. It’s a white shirt with little colorful illustrations of trees and a beach, fruits, and stamps– each featuring a #1 Mets fan favorite during their time with the team. He would hate for the shirt to be tarnished in its debut. He also senses he’s deflecting from the thought of where the Messenger would take this. He couldn’t get a read before hearing…
Messenger: My my my, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you. You’re far more imposing in person.
Tact: After Rebellion, I didn’t think you’d find me to be imposing enough. Is there something I should be alarmed about, seeing you after that event?
Messenger: Only if you choose there to be. But I can assure you, we come with glad tidings.
Tact: And that means what exactly?
Messenger: In layman's terms, The Black Rainbow is not here to assault you, Mister Tact… oh no no no, to the contrary. We are hopefully here to support you.
Larry exhales through his nostrils.
Tact: I’m not sure why Black Rainbow feels a sudden urge to extend that kind of offer my way. I may not be on a hot streak, but I’ve made it pretty clear that I don’t need any sympathies. I’m competing in the XWF, where I want to be, even if I’m still looking to find the mode I feel is a tactful one.
Messenger: Ah yes, a crisis of confidence is a regrettable thing indeed. Nothing but a waste of time. Tell us what you need to overcome this, Mister Tact. Would you like to turn your “Tactilizing Yourself” program into a bestseller, perhaps?
Larry didn’t expect the discussion to go towards his burgeoning passion project. He covers his mouth with the back of his fist, clearing of his throat to mask his surprise.
Tact: You’ve heard about the “Tactilize Yourself” program?
Messenger: Of course I have. It’s the talk of our little… town. What’s your asking price? $2750?
Tact: Hey, that’s for a single program, pal.
Messenger: In that case, the Black Rainbow will take a hundred programs. No no no, make it a thousand! Feel free to bill our corporate headquarters, care of one Miss Yelena Gorgo. And add yourself a handsome tip as well.
Instinctively, Larry’s mind begins calculating the potential of such a deal. But it’s just a moment, as he’s heard of… Miss Gorgo’s… wealth. Like anyone in the locker these days, he’d also been wise to watch the former X-Treme Champion over these past months. Whatever Gorgo’s current status and association with them, wealth doesn’t appear to concern this operation.
Tact: It’s not about the money, though, is it?
Messenger: For you? Perhaps. For us, your price is but a pittance to pay for the world’s salvation.
Tact: Are you serious?
Messenger’s smile is sick, distorted and twisted. It is clear that only evil rests behind the eyes of this man, and his intentions, whatever they may be, must be towards that end.
Tact: On second thought, perhaps Gorgo should keep her money.
Messenger: Why? Is this not your dream? To become even more rich and influential?
Tact: Regardless of what you think, I’m trying to help people with my program. It’s not a product to be bought and passed around.
Messenger: My apologies. I should have known, a Tactilizing man such as yourself does not crave more power. He must long for something less influential… and something more… personal.
He leans in closer to Tact, lowering his voice as his two hooded guards flank him even closer than before. Their muscles bulge from their sleeveless cloaks. Steroid abused veins nearly bursting from the skin.
Messenger: Would you.. prefer our help and our resources to aid in bringing your lost daughter home safe and sound? My apologies, what was her name again?
Tact instinctively grabs Messenger by the shirt collar with both hands.
Messenger: Hey hey hey, Don’t shoot me… I’m not a combatant, I’m just the-
Tact: Keep that trap flapping open, dipshit. I don’t care how many of these cloaked goons you have with you. My tolerance for fantasy baseball trade offers is longer than my patience for the ones you’re making. And I don’t make fantasy baseball trades.
Messenger: Okay, okay! Too personal! I got you man-
The two Black Rainbow “Praetorians” move to remove Larry’s hands from Messengers’ shirt, yet with a simple gesture, a mere flick of the wrist from the Messenger, they immediately back down.
Messenger: Let us prove ourselves. Please! We’ll help you gain back the XWF Television title tonight. It’s not much, but it’s a noble goal. She will be pleased to see you carry it once more under the name of our joint banner.
Tact: I couldn’t blame her for wanting my name under the Black Rainbow banner. Even though “she” is not “Miss Gorgo” – nor Maraeth, is it? You run behind Emilia now, don’t you?
Messenger: Emilia Glazkov? Maraeth’s personal advisor? Ahahaha… What makes you think that?
Tact: I can call it like I see it… she allowed me to finish the match with Aurora. I’m glad for that. What happened afterwards…? It isn’t lost on me that Aurora is a locker room leader. It isn’t lost on either of us what we put each other through at Rebellion. I’d make a tactful wager that “she” had an eye on what we’d do to each other to win at that event, in that match. Aurora met that vault… and Emilia saw the opening I made to get to Aurora.
Messenger: Yes, indeed. You have played your role perfectly so far, Mister Tact. But I will admit. Emilia is a dear friend, but I do not work for her, or with her. The one whom I refer to is the weaver of our dreams. Praise be… to LORTHARNETH!
Black Rainbow Praetorian Guards: PRAISE BE!
Perspiration builds on Larry’s skin, and he hasn’t taken notice until just now, when a breeze from the open loading dock doors passes through. Larry scans across the Cloaked Figures, and even with the warmer weather having arrived in Saint Louis…
A chill runs through him.
His attention snaps back to Messenger.
Messenger: She’s coming, Mister Tact. She bides her time, but eventually, the Weaver of Dreams shall come and take her rightful place at the head of our table. This I can assure you. She extends her hand, but only you can take it. So what do you say, Larry? Will you take the CONSECRATION willingly and be the Dreamweaver’s Television Champion? Or are you too… hahaha… good… for the Black Rainbow?
For a moment, there’s an air of silence between them, as the chilled breeze swirls between the two parties.
Tact: You don’t realize that you’ve hit on something. You know, in a sense I have become too “good” for the Black Rainbow. That party got a little off the rails for me. Dreamweaver or not, tonight is about finding out something here at The Enterprise. Tonight, I’m going to find out if I can be the XWF Television Champion. Tonight, we all find out how real what Lucy has said about me, and directly to me, will cost her.
Messenger purses his lips with clenched teeth buried behind them. It becomes clear to him that his offer has been denied.
Tact: You’ll see the ways in which I could never work alongside the Black Rainbow… and maybe a way in which I could. But I’ll share a little free promo with you from the “Tactilize Yourself” program. Don’t underestimate the power of following the path you lead yourself on. That’s where you’ll grow a commitment to what you believe in, and pursue it with all your spirit. You lead yourselves on your campaign, and I’ll keep on with mine.
Messenger: So be it, Mister Tact.
The Black Rainbow Praetorian Guard surrounds Tact. They don’t lay a finger on him, but they don’t allow him an inch to move, either.
Messenger: The wheels of change turn with or without you. You can ride them to success or be broken beneath. Either way, you will play your role. The choice, as always, is yours. SO IT WAS WOVEN!
Black Rainbow Cloaked Figures: SO SHALL IT BE DONE!
Every single light within the entire backstage area flickers, as if the building itself suffers a momentary power outage.
BLACKOUT.
By the time the lights return, Messenger and his Praetorian Guard are gone. Nowhere to be seen. Left without a semblance of a trace.
Too late to keep Larry’s adrenaline from flowing, as he looks down at his unharmed Mets Hawaiian shirt.
Tact: Huh. Must be a good sign for October.
He knew that he wouldn’t be able to say the same if he wore it out to the ring, tonight. He didn’t expect his flesh would be as fortunate, depending on how Black Rainbow took his response. That was without even bringing his three other opponents into the equation. Larry swings open the double doors without abandon, storming back towards the arena that would assuredly be the scene of a battlefield for the Television Championship. A wild showdown that serves to solidify what he knows he’s gained from recent battles between the ropes.
A Showcase Showdown.
JC: We’re back here on Warfare with Scoops McGee already in the ring. Brody, tonight, the Television title is on the line and the current champion has the opportunity to do what so few have done over the last several months and that's to add stability to the Television title division.
BG: Jack, the TV title been passed around more than Madison Dyson at the neighborhood cookout!
JC: Brody, you need SPF 75 at the beach, you are not the guy to make that joke.
BG: I got street cred, man. Who you think brings the brisket to the cookout?
JC: I doubt that very much…
BG: Said like a man that ain’t never been invited to no cookout.
"In the Face of Evil" by Magic Sword reverberates over the PA. Row after row, aisle to aisle, fans rise from their seats throughout the arena and cheer, knowing one of their workhorses is about to appear!
As the second, third, and fourth chords of the theme reverberate, three spotlights shine down, one over another: A green circle, a gold triangle over it, and a crimson line intersecting the other two. On the Tron, his monikers cycle through one after another:
TACTILIZING ONE
GAME CHANGER
LIMIT BREAKER
From there, the beat triggers the house lights to illuminate the figure of Larry Tact standing on stage. He's looking down as he hones in for the battle ahead.
JC: Larry Tact!
BG: That boy ain’t got no Tact.
JC: Former Television champion and reigning star of the month!
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 arena goes black. The opening chords of "Undead" by Hollywood Undead blare over the Arena PA system. One by one, spotlights around the arena begin fading in and out, alternating between a bright white and deep purple tones. As the bass line kicks into its highly recognized bone jarring chorus the spotlights sync their flashing with the rhythm. Suddenly the spotlights all turn at once, illuminating the stage in a brilliant flash and a radiating glow. Lucy Wylde steps out from behind the curtain onto center stage just as the crowd begins to cheer and sing along with the song...
UNDEAD!!!!!
UNDEAD!!!!!
UNDEAD!!!!!
UNDEAD!!!!!
JC: The reigning, defending world television champion, Lucy Wylde!
BG: I feel like it took her a minute to get acclimated to solo competition here in the XWF.
JC: Maybe so, but it’s safe to say she’s acclimated now! Listen to these…
BG: Idiots.
As the verse begins, Lucy begins walking towards the ring, a big smile on her face as she moves from side to side along the aisle - slapping the hands of the fans as she goes. She gets to ringside and runs up the ring steps, climbing into the ring and ascending the far turnbuckle, raising her arms into the air. She pulls a pair of fingerless leather gloves from her back pocket and puts them on, one by one. Her music begins to fade into the background of the cheers of the fans. Once both gloves are tight, she clenches both fists and jumps down from the turnbuckle, awaiting the opening bell.
The bell sounds and the trio of competitors stand in their own respective corners. Scoops scales the turnbuckles to play to the crowd a moment but he’s immediately nailed with a clubbing blow that sends him spilling awkwardly to the floor. Tact looks down with a smirk but Wylde charges in behind him. Tact turns and Lucy puts on the brakes and backpedals.
JC: Fifteen minutes is ticking down and these two know each other very well!
BG: Seems these two are goin’ at it all across the wrestlin’ world, Jackie!
JC: At least as far as the XWF is concerned, Lucy Wylde thus far has had the better of Larry Tact!
BG: That could all change right here tonight on Warfare!
The two advance toward one another. Wylde goes low, but Larry figured she would and traps her in a waistlock at his side before lifting her up and slamming her down in a modified gutwrench suplex.
JC: Counter!
BG: Boy you weren’t kiddin’ Jacko, these two know each other way too well.
JC: Wylde sends Tact around and down with a headscissor!
BG: It’s almost as if they know what the other is gonna do before they do it!
The headscissor has Tact reeling momentarily as he bounces to his feet and into the corner. Wylde wastes no time as she charges in and monkey flips him across the ring. Again, Tact bounces to his feet, but this time he spills through the ropes to the outside, not far from Scoops McGee to a pop from the crowd.
JC: Lucy to the outsiiide but the official stops her, sends her back toward the center!
BG: I just realized the popularity of these three individuals.
JC: Yeah?
BG: I just placed a bet on the interwebs for an Iranian Nuclear bomb.
JC: I don’t think they have the bomb yet.
BG: How else are all three of ‘em gonna lose!?
Lucy paces like a caged animal, getting more and more antsy by the second. Outside the ring, Larry gets to his feet and goes to get back into the ring only for Scoops to nail him from behind.
JC: Much to the delight of this capacity crowd, Scoops has rejoined the fray!
BG: Goin’ right after Larold Tactician!
The two men engage in a bit of a brawl that sees Larry send a stiff right to the jaw of Scoops McGee that staggers the old man backward. Back in the ring, Lucy bounces off the far side ropes gaining a head of steam. Nearing the near side ropes she leaps over the top!
JC: Tope Suicida!
BG: Larry got eyes in the back of his head though!
JC: He sure does! He barreled out of the way and Scoops takes a direct hit from Lucy Wylde!
BG: And he took allllll of it. Man, Scoops might be on his way to the retirement home after this one!
JC: Just about five minutes in and we have yet to have a pinfall attempted as time keep on ticking.
Momentarily satisfied that he avoided the aerial assault, Tact doesn’t rest on his laurels for long as he delivers a vicious stomp to the back of Lucy Wylde as she starts to get up. Unwilling to relent just yet, he grabs her by the hair and pulls her to her feet only to take her right back down with a short arm clothesline. Tact sends a few well placed stomps to the down and out Scoops McGee and quickly returns his attention to the reigning television champion.
Lucy is almost back to her feet, and Larry lifts her the rest of the way. He scoops her up… no pun intended… and looks to be going for a powerslam out on the floor. Larry lurches forward but Wylde wiggles loose, slides down his back and shoves him into the ring post.
JC: Defensive measures by the champion will send her back on offense!
BG: Tact got his bell rung right there!
Wylde climbs to the apron then measures Tact before charging across the apron. She leaps off but Tact counters with a crisp spine buster sending her hard to the arena floor.
JC: Time continues to tick down here on Warfare!
BG: Both of ‘em are or were Television Champions. They know the game. They know when they gotta start pressin’ the issue.
JC: We’re not quite there yet, but very soon, the pressure rises for both of ‘em.
BG: Scoops McGee too if he ever wakes from his lil nap.
Tact gets back to his feet and lifts Lucy to hers before sending her back into the ring. Back on his feet again, he brings Lucy to hers then sends her across the ring. He bounces off the near side as the two near each other, he sends a high knee into her face and Lucy sprawls out on the mat.
JC: Coverrr TWO!!!! And NO!
BG: The champ kicks out but the last series of maneuvers has taken its toll, no question.
JC: We dip now, under seven minutes to go in this fifteen minute time limit!
Tact is back to his feet but stands in wait as Wylde gets back to hers. She staggers and stumbles around but walks right into a Uranage, but Tact doesn’t go for a cover.
BG: Might be a mistake.
JC: Yeah I think he should’ve gone for the cover.
Tact stands in wait again as Wylde gets up under her own power. Before she can turn though, he traps her in the million dollar dream.
JC: Tactilize yourself!
BG: Hey! Rude.
JC: He’s got it locked in but Lucy Wylde is fighting like the champion she is!
Lucy Wylde thrashes wildly, trying desperately to either get to the ropes or take any other means of escape available to her. Tact being the much larger of the two, she doesn’t have much leverage as she tries to inch toward the corner. She barely manages to get some fingers on the top rope but he ragdolls her away from the ropes. She hooks an ankle around the bottom rope near the corner and Tact tries to drag her back toward the center. Wylde kicks off the turnbuckles and rolls on top of Tact who still has the hold locked in.
BG: What a reversal from Wylde!
JC: Ref in position! TWOOOOO! And NO!
BG: Tact kicks out but the mission has been accomplished!
JC: Tact had to either kick out and break the hold or lose!
BG: ‘Twas a no-brainer, really.
Tact rolls back to his feet and Lucy starts to get to hers though she’s still a bit groggy. Larry comes up behind her and lifts her into a torture rack.
JC: If he hits it, it’s over!
BG: Here comes the Tactilizer!
JC: COUNTERED!
Upon the swing out for the Tactilizer, Lucy grapevine her legs around Tact’s head and brought him down with a hurricanrana. With the flip in momentum, Lucy Wylde gets a second wind. She gets to her feet as Tact bounces to his. She nails him with a shining wizard. Tact falls to the mat, bounces back to his feet and turns around right into a superkick from Lucy Wylde. The kick connects and sends Larry Tact staggering backward into the ropes without falling. He bounces off the ropes and Lucy charges forward, taking him to the mat with a spear.
JC: What a chain of maneuvers that puts the champion in firm control!
BG: Oh she feelin’ herself now, Jack! She peelin’ off toward the corner!
JC: She’s gonna go for it!
BG: If she hits this, it’s all over but the shoutin’!
JC: Just about three minutes left!
She charges across the ring as Larry makes it to his hands and knees.
BG: Tact is in a world of hurt but Scoops has the pin!
ONE!!!
TWO!!!!!!!
THREE!!!??????????????????????????????????????
JC: And Wylde breaks it up!
BG: Could you imagine? Dude been out here takin’ a nap for the last 13 minutes and he damn near stole it anyway.
JC: Experience.
BG: Resourceful sumbitch.
Scoops gets back to his feet, searching for the TV champion. She comes from outta nowhere…
JC: Mind Blow!
BG: BLOCKED!
Scoops blocks the Mind Blow then takes Lucy to the mat with a neck breaker. The crowd is in a frantic frenzy that would tickle any frenulum as Scoops once again scales the turnbuckles and perches himself upon the top rope. He leaps off with another moonsault.
WINNER AND STILL XWF TELEVISION CHAMPION: LUCY WYLDE!
JC: Folks, this next match has major implications following Rebellion! Peter Principle promised the defeat of the Black Rainbow! And they not only thrived at Rebellion, going almost undefeated… But one of their members defeated XWF Legend and XWF COO, Thaddeus Duke!
BG: You ain’t kidding, Jacko! Peter declared Mission Accomplished at the top of the show for indefinitely suspending Dolly Waters… But can his hired man tonight do *anything* to stop the rolling blackout that is Black Rainbow?
"Luna est dominae, volkodlak malorum
Artes et perditae, lycan incarnatus
Luna est dominae, volkodlak malorum
Artes et perditae, lycan incarnatus"
A dense fog rolls out along the entrance ramp, the haunting whispered chant growing in volume along with the pulsing tempo of the music. A hulking horned beast appears from the gloom, slowly and methodically stalking towards the ring. His leather doomsday cloak is open over his massive chest, each step bringing him further into the light until "The Monster Machine" is revealed in full. The dark and Gothic chanting of “Night of the Wolf” by Nox Arcana continues, music swelling in volume as each pulse in the tempo and each measured step of the monster are in sync.
JC: There he is! THE MONSTER MACHINE, ENIGMA! He’s been getting acclimated to the XWF, taking on the toughest men this company has to offer!
BG: No joke, Jackie! And at Rebellion, Enigma took on one of the biggest challenges to ever lace boots in the XWF and that’s XWF Legend, Thaddeus Duke!
JC: And here’s the thing, Brody! Enigma won! Enigma withstood all the flashy crowd-pleasing offense Thad brought and beat him with pure DOMINANCE! Enigma scored inarguably the biggest victory Black Rainbow’s had in the ring thus far in its young lifespan! But can they keep the momentum rolling tonight?
"Rota, vita, mara, vena
Mare, dracul, morte, vita
Rota, vita, mara, vena
Mare, dracul, morte, vita"
ENIGMA ascends the ring steps and subtly wipes his feet on the apron, turning towards the crowd as he removes the horned skull mask, revealing his soot-streaked face and colourless eyes. Throwing his head back, he sprays a bloody mist into the air before letting out a snarl. When his head lowers, blood drips from his chin and down his heaving chest.
DO YOU GRASP WHAT THE GROK IS IMPLYING?
The lights in the arena dim as the announcer's voice booms over the sound system, introducing the next wrestler. Suddenly, Grok’s Theme fills the arena, and the crowd erupts into cheers as a bright spotlight illuminates the top of the ramp.
Chad G.P.T. Dwayne “The Grok” Johnson steps out into the light, dressed in a black t-shirt, sweatpants and sunglasses. Beside him, typing away at his laptop he’s carrying in his hands is Elon Musk! And on The Grok’s left and right sides is Peter Principle’s personal security team, Big Preesh and “Big Puddin’” Herschel Kiss!
JC: Oh God, Preesh and Puddin’… what are these two clowns doing here?!?
BG: Hey! You’re talking about the confidantes of our General Manager, Peter Principle! If they’re here, they’re here to do something vitally important for Warfare’s well-being!
JC: We agree on one thing, Brody! If Preesh and Puddin’ are out here, it’s because Principle told them to!
Grok strolls with savoir-faire and panache down the ramp as his entourage strolls in behind him.
THE GROK SAYS
THE GROK SAYS
THE GROK SAYS
As The Grok reaches the ring, he climbs up onto the apron and poses for the crowd, raising a single arm and lifting a single eyebrow.
JC: Well, looks like Chad GPT got an upgrade… and he needed one! Chad was supposed to beat Dolly Waters AFTER she had to defend her tag titles earlier that night at Rebellion to justify Peter Principle firing her… And Chad *still* couldn’t get the job done! And now he’s supposed to beat ENIGMA! The guy that just beat Thaddeus Duke!
BG: Who’s this Chad you’re talking about? All I see is The Grok! The most Electrifying Machine in Sports Entertainment!
JC: …*sigh*...Well, Elon Musk PROMISED Peter Principle that… ‘The Grok’... would avenge Thaddeus Duke on his behalf. And more importantly to Principle, strike a victory for the XWF against the Black Rainbow! But can he do it?
The Grok hops off the top turnbuckle… And beckons Enigma towards him with his fingers.
…Enigma stoically stares down his opponent.
DING DING DING!
CHAD GPT
DWAYNE “THE GROK” JOHNSON
- vs -
ENIGMA Singles Match
As the bell rings The Grok struts to the center of the ring with an exaggerated smirk, eyebrow cocked so high it looks like it’s gonna take off. He runs his hands along his robotic biceps, flexing like he’s sculpted out of futuristic marble, then strikes his iconic pose and shouts: "FINALLY… THE GROK HAS REBOOTED IN ST LOUIS!"
JC: Elon rapidly typing into his computer at ringside… The Grok certainly has more confidence than Chad GPT did… But the catchphrases are still a work-in-progress.
Enigma, stone-faced, is unimpressed by Grok’s grand-standing and performative peacocking.
His chest rises steadily, as the Monster Machine takes one slow, ominous step forward.
The Grok turns around to face his opponent… And sees Enigma stepping towards him!
…The Grok literally double-takes at the size and build of Enigma, reflexively taking a stutter-step backwards into the ropes! The official places a hand on Enigma’s chest, urging him to let his opponent get out of the ropes!
JC: I don’t know if this is a ‘ghost in the machine’ situation, but when Grok saw Enigma, he looked like he SAW a ghost! I don’t think The Grok’s EVER faced an opponent the sheer size of Enigma!
The official gets to three of his five-count, before The Grok releases the ropes… He covers his nerves with a loud laugh, before rushing toward the ring, circling Enigma like a predator faking confidence… As he circles, Elon rapidly types into the laptop!
BG: “See? Grok’s runnin’ diagnostics in real time! He’s got 360 degrees of data he’s collecting on Enigma! He’s got the situation under control!”
JC: “You can collect all the data you want on an apex predator… It’ll still tear your face off!”
The Grok continues to rapidly circle around Enigma who… stands impatiently in the center of the ring, waiting for this little loudmouth to stop dancing and start fighting…
The Grok’s eyes widen! He throws a jab!
SMACK! His open palm catches Enigma right in the face!
BG: First point! To The Grok!
The Grok smacks Enigma in the face a second time!
A third time!
Before his final strike, The Grok backs up a step and looks at his hand as if he’s loading it with all the power in his hard drive… He throws a knockout j-
…Enigma, who hasn’t budged this whole sequence, grips The Grok mid-jab like catching a frisbee.
The Grok’s face contorts—shocked, then indignant—as Enigma…
HEAVES HIM UP AND OVER!
A THUNDEROUS T-BONE SUPLEX!
BG: JEE HOSEPHAT! Grok’s an actual cyborg! Enigma threw Grok like he was a sack of laundry!
The Grok’s body bounces and skids, rolling across the ring!
…Preesh and Puddin’ cover their eyes, before smacking the ring, urging The Grok up! Elon rapidly taps on keys…
The Grok scrambles up, wincing, waving one finger in the air!
"LUCKY BREAK FOR YOU, IVAN! I ONLY DIDN’T COUNTER THAT BECAUSE I WAS LOADING THE PLANS FOR MY POST-VICTORY AFTERPARTY"
JC: “The Grok trying to exude confidence, but that suplex nearly launched The Grok into another timeline!”
Enigma slowly cracks his neck and takes a step forward.
The Grok sneers, trying to seem unimpressed, before cranking his own neck in reto-
WHAM! As Enigma calmly walks up to The Grok, he smacks the wrestling automaton up and over the ropes and out onto the floor!
JC: Wow! Despite Elon’s charisma upgrade, somehow this match is going even worse Grok than Chad did against Dolly!
Chad goes up and over the top rope landing with a metallic thud on the outside!
JC: Thus far, the most electrifying machine in the XWF sure looks he could use a rewiring!
BG: Just you wait, Jacko! Once he gets up, the Grok’ll make short work of…[/white]
The Grok rises up… And starts walking around the apron, shaking his head.
BG: …Like I was saying, he’ll strategically buy himself time to re-assess his gameplan! That’s the beauty of his computerized mind! A ten-count is an eternity for him to plan the perfect offense!
JC: If Grok could use the full ten-count… But it looks like Enigma has other plans!
Indeed! As the official hits three on his ten-count, Enigma is already stepping over the top rope, in pursuit of his opponent, who continues to walk around the apron…
Straight toward Preesh and Puddin’ by his corner outside the ring!
BG: Here we are, Grok buying himself some time by taking advantage of his ringside muscle!
JC: …I’d be hesitant to refer to Preesh *or* Puddin’ as ‘muscle’...
The Grok continues strategically retreating past his goons, who let him by…
But they form a human wall shoulder-to-shoulder as Enigma appro-
WHAM! In a sudden burst of forward velocity, Enigma shoulder blocks his way through their human shield! Preesh gets bowled up and over the railing outside the ring! ‘Preesh’ rolls over ass-over-teakettle, collapsing into the steel steeps!
JC: Oh my GOD! Preesh and Puddin’ are a combined 1200 pounds! And Enigma just went through them like an automatic door at the grocery store!
BG: That’s assault on two officers of security! They were simply trying to secure the match!
Enigma, barely even slowed down by Grok’s henchmen, continues to pursue Grok, who rolls back under the ropes..
Enigma slides in after his opp-
Suddenly, Grok turns on a dime! And starts stomping Enigma rapidly on the back of the head!
JC: Whoa, dirty trick playing possum! I’ve never seen Chad GPT do that before!
BG: Cuz this ain’t Chad GPT, Jacko! This is THE GROK!
Enigma snorts angrily as the machine rapidly boots the back of his head… Enigma catches Grok’s boot, and shoves him back against the ropes!
Grok bounces off the ropes… As Enigma rises up to his feet…
But Grok catches him by the neck!
SWINGING NECKBREAKER! Enigma’s back slams against the mat!
And The Grok kips up dynamically from the mat! He climbs to the top rope and starts jaw-jacking at the crowd!
BG: Do you see this?!? Can you believe the form? The athleticism! This IS the most electrifying machine in the XWF!
…But, in one BURST of motion, Enigma sits up! Looking completely unaffected!
JC: Oh my! It looks like that move barely staggered Enigma! Grok might want to wrap up his endzone dance and get his head back in the game!
The Grok continues to jaw-jack from the top rope… As from the outside of the ring, Elon rapidly types in commands into his laptop…
Enigma charges The Grok with a stinger splash!
…Elon finishes typing!
Grok’s eyes suddenly widen!
…As The Grok dynamically leaps up and over! And Enigma eats turnbuckle face-first!
BG: Incredible teamwork! Elon custom patched Grok to see Enigma coming!
JC: …Y’know, a different manager could have just… *told* Grok to watch out? That was a lot of typing when a single ‘Look!’ would have done!
BG: Not as cool!
The Grok raises his eyebrow at the crowd, looking very smug, before turning around…
Straight into a Running Shoulder Block from Enigma!
Chad backward-rolls, limbs splayed like a man ejected from a moving car!
JC: Holy cow! The sheer POWER of Enigma!
‘Big Puddin’ finally shakes his head, rising up to his feet… As Elon barks at him, pointing at the action inside the ring…
Big Puddin’ nods… And climbs up to the apron!
JC: At this point, this is blatant! Ref, send all of Grok’s stooges to the showers already!
Big Puddin’ starts pointing and blowing kisses at Enigma, taunting him!
…
Enigma coldly stares him down.
…Puddin’ dry-swallows before raising both hands defensively and gingerly stepping down from the apron.
JC: I think Big Puddin’ thought about Enigma walking toward him and saw his life flash before his eyes…
BG: I think Big Puddin’ thought about Enigma *considering* hurting him and made a Big Puddin’ in his pants…
But, that momentary distraction gave Elon a window to reach into the ring where The Grok lays beside the bottom turnbuckle… Musk presses a few buttons on Grok’s neck…
His right hand… glows?!?
JC: What’s going on there, Brody!
As the official barks at Puddin’ to stay off the apron going forward, Enigma turns to his cornered opponent, scooping Grok up by the scruff of his n-
BZZZZZZZZT! Grok’s right hand strikes Enigma straight into the face!
Enigma jolts and bolts like he just got hit with a cattle prod!
JC: What the hell! I think Grok just electrocuted Enigma!
BG: What did I tell you, Jacko! The MOST ELECTRIFYING MACHINE IN THE XWF!
Enigma collapses away from Grok, onto his knees!
…As Grok assumes a stance, hands on his knees! Beckoning Enigma to turn around!
BG: We’re gonna see a Grok Bottom! GROK BOTTOM!
JC: Dock should sue for move stealing… Or just come back and take apart Grok like a Teddy Ruxpin.
…Enigma’s body unnaturally spasms, shaking off the electricity… as he slowly turns around…
Grok clasps him around the chest!
GROK BOTTOM!
…
IS COUNTERED!
Instead, Enigma clasps his arms around Grok’s throat!
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS! (Chokebomb!)
BG: NO! NOOOOOOO!
JC: If The Grok was asking if he could beat Enigma? He just got that question answered… “No”!
Elon rapidly smacks the side of his laptop, like a wireless controller that just lost connection!
…As Preesh woozily scrambles up from over the railing… Elon sets down the laptop and orders Preesh to do… something!
Enigma rolls onto the cover on Grok!
1!
2!
THREE!
…
Counts the crowd! But the official gets pulled under the bottom rope by Big Preesh!
BG: Preesh extends the match, buying Grok a little recovery time!
JC: It feels like you could give Grok a YEAR of match time against Enigma, and all Enigma is going to do is turn him into scrap!
The official barks at Preesh, ordering him not to interfere in the match!
…Enigma rises, grabbing The Grok by the scruff of the neck for another Chokebomb…
When a figure emerges from the front row and leaps over the railing!
JC: Who’s that headed toward the ring!
Enigma lifts Grok up by the thr-
As…
UNIVERSAL CHAMPION CHARLIE NICKLES ROLLS UNDER THE BOTTOM ROPE!
JC: It’s Charlie Nickles! He promised earlier tonight he’d take care of the Black Rainbow! And now he’s butting his head in Enigma’s match!
Enigma stares death up at the quasi-conscious Grok…
But below him comes a…
LOW BLOW FROM CHARLIE NICKLES!
Enigma reflexively cradles his family jewels as Grok drops to the mat…
Charlie scoops Enigma’s arms behind his back as he remains bent over…
DEVIL HOOK DROP!
JC: NO! C’mon! I’m no fan of Black Rainbow but this is wrong!
BG: It’s wrong that the XWF fight this war by any means necessary! Charlie Nickles is the XWF’s true champion, saving us when Thaddeus Duke COULDN’T!
Nickles rolls Enigma’s broken form onto his back, and flips the fallen Grok ontop of him and rolls back out…
Just as Preesh finally lets the official get back to his job!
The official sees Grok lying atop Enigma and drops to count!
JC: NO! Not like this! Please!
ONE!
TWO!
…
……
THREE!
WINNER: DWAYNE “THE GROK” JOHNSON
The crowd boos as outside the ring, Elon drops to his knees, celebrating!
BG: Yes! The XWF wins! The XWF wins!
JC: Oh, go to Hell, Brody! I love the XWF more than anyone, but it took three clowns AND Charlie Nickles for Grok to beat Enigma tonight!
BG: But he did, Brody! Score one for Peter Principle! Score one for America! And score one for THE GROK!
Enigma rapidly stirs from the mat… As Preesh and Puddin’ eagerly drag Grok from the ring and start retreating up the ramp!
JC: Absolutely disgusting! The Grok and Elon Musk should be ashamed of themselves, leaving with their tails between their legs!
BG: Jacko, Thad couldn’t get the job done at Rebellion! Someone had to step up! And that someone is going to be men like Peter Principle, Charlie Nickles… And THE GROK!
We return from commercial break, and ‘Cavortin’ JAke Borden is already in the ring, He stretches his arm across his chest, hopping from one foot to the other!
JC: Welcome back to Warfare, folks! And in the ring now, Brody? The former Anarchy tag champion, ‘Cavortin’ Jake Borden!
BG: Former, Jackie? Former? The man wasn’t a champion more than a week or something before Them No Good Bastards took their babies back from those weirdos.
JC: You think Jake Borden is weird, Brody
BG: Damn right I think he’s weird! He’s a snazzy dresser, fine. But this man lives in his locker, and smells like a dirty sock. It’s gross. Totally unbecoming.
JC: Well, here comes Broden’s new tag team partner tonight here on Warfare, a man who… I don’t think has any interest in making Borden appear more normal
BG: Hell no he doesn’t! This drunk, this bum, was climbing in Jake’s locker with him because he’s got nowhere to live!
As Nirvana's Tourette's blares through the loudspeakers, the cameras pan around the arena before finally spotting Frances Marigold
He appears in the stands, smoking a cigarette, jamming out with the fans. He cracks open a can of beer and pours it down his throat before heading to the ring.
JC: Well, if you’re looking for a team that's made up of more of your prototypical wrestler
The opening guitar riff the Deftones’ “Kimdracula” hits the arena speakers as multicolored lights pour over the crowd. The lights slowly rotate color in a mesmerizing, psychedelic fashion as the camera pans over the excited crowd. They stand and cheer, partially excited to be on television but also excited because they know that this music signifies that they’re about to be in the presence of an XWF Legend.
Our view shifts to the entrance walkway, which is now blocked by a large pane of glass. On the glass, a name is painted:
THE TRIBE
The viewer only has a moment to take in the glass before the glass explodes towards the camera as a foot kicks through and explodes the whole display!
The crowd erupts in a huge pop.
Aidan Collins is here with Solomon Kline!
The two are decked out in their custom ring gear, putting on a show for the fans. The each make their own moves down the ramp, slapping hands and showing off!
Kline rolls under the ropes whole Collins walks up the ring steps and walks down the apron to the center of the ring. He points out to the crowd before folding his arms in front of himself, giving the crowd ample time to pop off photos with their cell phones.
Aidan enters the ring through the middle rope. He shakes the ring official’s hand, now ready for the contest to begin.
The ref calls for the bell!
The Tribe
Aidan ‘Blizzard’ Collins & Solomon Kline
- vs -
Frances Marigold & Jake Borden Standard Tag
The match is underway, and it’s Borden squaring off with Aidan Collins, The two dance toward one another - - - BUT FRANCES DOESN’T SEEM TO CARE, OR UNDERSTAND THAT THIS IS A TAG TEAM MATCH
[white]JC: Frances Marigold has charged through the ropes and is barreling right at Collins!
BG: Get that lunatic outta there, now!
Frances clubs Collins with a stiff, but largely ineffective forearm to the back. He tries to grapple around his head, and Borden steps back, Collins throws some shots at Marigold, fighting him off, AND DROPS THE BIG GUY WITH A DDT
BG: Lookie here, Kline’s hittin the ring now!
JC: And Marigold is fighting right up from that DDT as if he didn’t even feel it!
BG: He’s too drunk to feel anything, he doesn’t belong in that ring!
Kline attacks Frances from behind, sending him falling forward into Borden, while the ref tries to restore order, holding Kline back by the arm.
Borden turns his partner around, and pushes him back toward Collins - - -WHOS LEADING IN WITH A SPRINGBOARD NECKBREAKER!
o-o-oh s-s-shoot, s-s-sorry!
MArigold rolls under the bottom rope and out to the floor, as the ref finally gets Kline back to the apron. Broden runs forward and into and arm drag from Collins, followed up by second arm drag and now a whip into the corner… Collins follows behind and hits running knee! Borden falls forward out the corner and is caught by an olympic slam!
JC: Beautiful sequence there by Blizzard!
BG: Blizzard is a bonafide legend, JAckie, I told you Borden wasn’t up to the task!
JC: Collins with the pinfall - - -BUT LOOK ON THE OUTSIDE!
1!
2!!
KICKOUT and Collins looks up to see Frances tearing Kline down from the apron. Marigold manhandles Kline and bashes his head into the turn buckle post, and then pushes him over onto the floor. Frances mounts Kline and starts punching, then grabbing the head and thrashing against the floor mat. Kline fights Marigold off, and the two start struggle and grapple and push one another on the outside. They trip over the steel ring steps and - - -
BORDEN ROLLS UP THE DISTRACTED COLLINS FROM BEHIND!
1!
2!!
JC: Borden nearly stole one there, but a narrow kickout from Collins!
Clinns quickly pops to his feet and gets hit with an ear clap from Borden!
Scottish whip into the ropes
FOREARM SMASH!
Borden covers Collins again!
1!
2!!
ANOTHER NARROW KICKOUT!
On the outside, Frances eats a spear from Kline as they both get to their feet, but
JC: My god, MArigold is biting on Klines ear on the way down!
BG: Who gave this man a wrestling contract? Hes got no business being out there, he’s gonna’ hurt somebody!
Kline is punching Marigold in the ribs as they begin rolling around on the floor. They gfght back to their feet and a running bulldog from Marigold sending himself and Kline into the guardrailing!
Back in the ring, Borden and Collins are tied up after that pin attempt, and it’s Collins taking control of the wrist and then twisting behind into an arm lock on Borden. He walks Borden into the corner, face first- but Borden steps up on the ropes, and vaults backward over Collin’s head and lands on his feet. Borden takes off for the ropes and gets caught with a back suplex from Collins!
AND NOW!!!
JC: Uh oh, Brody! Here we go!
One northern lights suplex to Borden!
ROLL
SECOND NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!
AND A THIRD CONSECUTIVE!!!
BG: Vintage Aidan Collins!
JC: But he’s not going for the cover!
Collins pops to his feet and walks over to the corner of the ring, stomping his foot a few times, raising his arm and beckoning Borden to his feet.
BG: Now watch this, baby. He’s got Borden lined up… looking for that trade spear that won Blizzard so many matches over the years!
Borden stands, and Collins charges
ICEPICK!!!!
IS INTERCEPTED!
FLAPJACK FROM MARIGOLD!
JC: WHOA! COLLINS WAS AT LEAST TEN FEET IN THE AIR JUST THEN! FACE FIRST TO THE MAT!
THe big move also brings Frances to a knee, who staggers back to his feet. He walks over to Borden and scoops him up on his shoulder. Limping to the their side of the ring. He sits Borden in the corner, and then steps out onto the apron, tagging himself in. Borden falls to the mat and rolls onto the apron.
Marigold charges back in like a bull chasing a cape, but not into time to stop Collins from tagging Kline!
Kline and Frances meet in the center of the ring, throwing punches. Marigold gets the advantage, pushing Kline into the ropes with a series of clubbing shots to the back and neck area. Kline is trying to cover up- he bobs back, and France’s arm hits the roeps- Kline shifts- SUPERKICK!
But Frances just eats the kick and wobbles on his feet
SECOND SUPERKICK!
And Frances falls back into the turnbuckle- RUNNING CLOTHESLINE FROM KLINE!
Now MArigold is falling forward, and BLUE THUNDER BOMB!!!
Kline with the cover!
1!
2!!
BORDEN WITH AN AXEHANDLE!
JC: Borden just saves his team from defeat there, Brody!
BG: He might’ve saved Frances’ hide there sure, but there’s no running from the inevitable. The fact that this man was ever a champion in this industry should be treated as a tragic error in history
JC: Now that doesn’t seem very fair to Jake! We’ve seen time and time again, Jake Borden join a team, be it with the likes of Hixx and Strife, be with Roger or Larry Tact, Borden has something in him that inspires the very best out of his partners.
BG: Blah blah MAY - BE, but tonight he’s partnering with a drunkard. Frances Marigold hasn’t been inspired by anything since the last time he found a half eaten cheeseburger in the dumpster!
Broden throws his hands up and steps back as big Solomon Kline rises to his feet pointing a finger in Borden’s chest and backing him to the corner. Kline raises a fist and SIDE RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP FROM MARIGOLD!
FRances climbs the top rope, as Borden steps back to the apron - - - HIGH ANGLE SENTON LANDS
RIGHT INTO KLINES KNEES!
An effective counter there and Kline limps up to his feet. HE picks Frances up and moves him to corner where Collins is waiting. They make the tag. Kline stays in the ring and lifts Frances up into a powerbomb…. Collins climbs the ropes…. LOOKING FOR SOMETHING BIG!
But Frances is fighting back. He starts nailing Kline in the forehead causing the tow of them to stumble to the other side of the ring ropes. Collins hopes down from the rope to assist Kline– BUT IT’S A HURRICANRANA FROM FRANCES!
Perhaps the most awkward looking hurricanrana you’ve ever seen!
AND KLINE GOES OVER THE TOP ROPE AND FALLS ONTO THE FLOOR!
But from behind it’s Collins, he’s already got Frances up and is chopping him in the chest repeatedly, pushing him into the corner
CHOP!
CHOP!
CHOP!
CHOP!!!!
Frances grunts, and grabs Collins by the head, changing positions, and starts delivering a series of body blows. Collins sucks air and falls to his rear, where Frances begins stomping a mudhole, grabbing the ropes for more leverage.
He picks Collins up and DDTs him right back down. He grabs Collins and moves him over to Jake Borden. They make the tag, with Frances holding Collins by the arms. Borden climbs the top rope and
DOUBLE AXEHANDLE!
Borden with the cover!
1!
2!!
BARELY ESCAPING IS COLLINS
Borden claps his hands togethe
d-d–d d-darnit!
Borden scales the ropes again, giving enough time for Collins to get back to his feet and…
QUADRUPLE AXE HANDLE!!!!
NOOO!!!!!!
Kline pushes Borden off the top rope and back in the ring.
Frances FREAKS OUT
He runs into the ring, unintentionally shoulder tackling the ref and spears Kline through the ropes and onto the floor.
JC: Frances Marigold said he was going to kill Solomon Kline tonight, and he’s not looked more bloodthirsty than he does right now!
BG: OH what the hell ever, Jackie. You’ve gotta stop encouraging this nonsense!
Frances is thrashing Kline on the outside. He grabs a chair and CRACK busts it right over Kline’s skull.
BUT IN THE RING!!!!!!!
COLLINS!!!!
HE SNEAKS UP BEHIND BORDEN
BLACK OUT DAYS
THE STANDING BUFFALO SLEEPER IS LOCKED IN!
JC: Uh oh, Brody! Collins is about to put Borden on the mat!!!
BG: Put him down, BLizzard! Put him where he belongs. Do it for the TRIBE, baby, yes!
Collins is pushing Borden over, about to fully apply the sleeper, BUT MARIGOLD!
A BIG BOOT TO COLLINS!
Borden falls forward gasping for air and rests in the turnbuckle. Frances quickly moves back over and takes his spot on the apron, letting Jake tag him in, and now he’s got Collins right in his sights. He darts back over and yanks Collins up by the head….
BULLDOG!
JC: It’s starting to look like Frances Marigold and Jake Borden are going to spoil the in-ring returns of Bilzzard tonight!
Frances picks Collins up, looking for a PILEDRIVER
BUT IT’S THE ASHES TO ASHES FOREARM FROM KLINE OUTTA NOWHERE!!!!!!!!
Frances crumbles over giving Collins all the time he needs…
JC: BLACK OUT DAYS! COLLINS HAS IT FULLY LOCKED IN ON MARIGOLD!
BG: This is a familiar spot for Frances, go on now! Black out boy like you know how!
Borden hits the ring….ASHES TO ASHES FROM KLINE!
Klines rolls under the ropes, as the ref gets down in Marigold’s face.
He’s unresponsive.
The ref raises the arm once… it falls
He raises it a second time… it falls.
He raises it a third time and
IT FALLS
The ref calls for the bell
WINNER: AIDAN ‘BLIZZARD’ COLLINS AND SOLOMON KLINE… THE TRIBE!
JC: Big time win here for Collins and Kline, and big moment for the return of The Tribe!
BG: Peanuts, really Jackie. This was just a snack for the tribe. Borden and Marigold were no match…
JC: Uh, they nearly won, multiple times!
BG: Oh whatever, perception ain’t always reality.
JC: Well, it is reality that The Tribe come away here with a big win, and are looking poised to do some damage here in the XWF Tag Team ranks!
Before we head back to the ring for our next exceptional contest, we find ourselves looking into the smiling face of the Warfare General Manager, Peter Principle. He’s backstage, stood outside of his office clearly pleased as punch with… Something or other.
“Two weeks ago, I brought it upon myself to breathe new life into Warfare’s tag-team division. The XWF is famous for being the birthplace of some of the very best tag-teams in the entirety of wrestling!”
“Did I want Dolly to lose?”
…
…..
“No, noooooooo. Of course not.” Peter crosses his heart as he speaks. “My *sole* desire was to ensure that all eyes were on our division for the very best there has to offer,”
Peter puffed up his chest, his grin widening.
“Now, after the… confusion… Of Warfare last month, I wanted to ensure that Dolly Waters was given an opponent, or opponents, worthy of her talents. And those opponents would show Dolly the error of her ways. I know I said a thing or two, but this wasn’t really about punishment, it was about… Showing what happens when you try to embarrass me. That it’s not a good idea.”
“That it…”
“WILL.”
“NOT.”
“BE TOLERATED.”
He offers an assured nod.
“Now, even I have to admit - once I’d made my choice as to who would face Waters and Dyson for the Tag Team Championships, some people asked if I was sure it was a good idea to pair these two…”
“Afterall, the challengers haven’t always seen eye to eye.”
“Or even… sometimes seen eye-to-eye.”
…
“Or… actually… EVER seen eye-to-eye…”
“But! I knew! I KNEW! That when push came to shove, they would set aside their differences, they would both return from their exiles from glory… in order to become my champ… Ahem… I mean… To become THE XWF Tag team Champions,”
Principle offers the camera a wink.
“And how right I was. Two consummate professionals, and born winners were able to recognise that the best choice is to put aside their petty squabbles in exchange for success. To squash whatever…”
He actually uses air quotes.
“... “Beef”... exists between them and in the spirit of competition, stand side by side in the quest for greatness. Which is why, right now, I am pleased to introduce to you all… The newly minted, beefless, unpetty, supremely professional XWF Tag… Team… Champ…”
But before Peter can finish his sentence, he is distracted by a number of loud crashes and raised voices.
A singular boot comes flying onto the screen, striking Peter across the back of his head.
“What the hell?!”
Peter turns, and the camera follows, away from his office and deeper into the backstage area. There’s a crowd building, and in the centre of the crowd two men are thunderously throwing punches at one another. The first rushes the second, taking him down by the legs, and reigning rights down into the fallen’s face. The man on the bottom of the ruckus manages to uses his legs to switch from guard into attack, and returns the favour.
They break apart for a second, only to come together again with agents and officials all around trying to get between them. But these two ferocious competitors are wild, they’re angry, they’re trying to rip one another apart… They’re…
The XWF Tag Team champions…
Sebastian Everett-Bryce and Isaiah King continue to try and tear strips from one another, as finally the agents manage to come between them. Principle can be heard shouting instructions, trying to force the agents to keep them apart. Sebastian shouts over him.
“I’m going to smash your face in!”
Isaiah returned the favour with a shout of his own.
“I’d like to see you try pretty boy.”
Sebastian’s grinning face isn’t perturbed.
“Outside. Car park. I’ll make sure everyone forgets you… Prince!”
Isaiah smirks back.
“Keep talking, and I’ll show you what a true Mauler is,”
Principle has had about enough of the fighting and finally gets between them.
“That’s enough! Get Bryce out of here! Now!”
The agents manage to back Seb around a corner, leaving an angry looking King alone, with a wall of bodies blocking him from following.
“You’ve been Tag Team Champions for less than two weeks - what the hell has got you at each other’s throats?”
“I refuse to partner with that smug piece of-”
“B-but what did he do?”
“That slimy shit had the gall to sneak in and just take it like it was his.”
“What’d he take?”
“That little shit snuck into my locker room…”
“I think as my tag-champs you both share a locker room now….”
“HE SNUCK IN AND STOLE-”
“Your wallet? Your phone? Your prized 1952 Topps Mickey Mantle card? I been looking for one of those, know where I can get a…-”
“-MY LAST BOTTLE OF A PERRIER-”
Principle’s mouth dropped open.
“P-Perrier? Water? That’s… All?”
“You should’ve seen his face! I just got back from the gym - He knew what he was doing!”
“I can’t… Even… That’s… Just… Get him out of here! Now!”
Peter shouts as the agents started walking King in the opposite direction, his hands in the air to show he’s cooperating. Principle sits down on a nearby packing case, raising his fingers to his forehead.
“My god… What have I done?”
And the severity of what he may have created dawns on him, as we return back to the ring.
JC: The Main Event is about to begin, Brody! It’s a Fatal-Fourway match for the XWF 24/7 Xtreme Championship!
BG: Oh man, this one is going to be fun.
JC: As far as rules tonight, well, lookout folks – there are no rules!
BG: Well, there is one rule. Be the first person to pin or submit anyone else in the match, and you walk out as a champion.
JC: The deck is stacked heavily against our champion Madison Dyson. But if anyone can retain in a situation tonight, it’ll be her.
BG: We’ll see, Jackie. Maddy’s been through a lot lately. But she may use that to her advantage. Only time will tell.
JC: And that time is coming up… right now!
All lights in the arena go dark and James Hetfield's opening vocals of Metallica's "The Memory Remains" blares suddenly over the public announce speakers. A minimal yet vocal minority of the fans in attendance shout the first lyrics aloud along with the singer:
Fortune, Fame, Mirror, Vain
Gone Insane
But the Memory Remains
The lights and the big screen both stay completely black. A single word appears on the screen:
. : A U R O R A : .
The guitar and drums come crashing in, along with the rest of the instrumental section. Soon after a mako green spotlight shines down upon the stage where Aurora herself is now standing. Her hands and wrists are taped in all black tape and her silver-colored hair is pulled back into a ponytail. It appears that she has extra tape around her left shoulder as well, courtesy of Larry Tact two weeks prior. A smoke machine billows from beneath her, partially obscuring the view.
Rochelle Adams: Making her way to the ring at this time, she hails from Arizona Bay. Ladies and Gentlemen – AURORA!
BG: The first of our four competitors in tonight’s main event is making her way down to the ring. Jackie, what are we thinking of Aurora’s chances here tonight?
JC: Oh, I don’t know, Brody. It’s like we’ve said several times before. If there is such a thing as controlled chaos, we’re going to see that here tonight! There’s so much that can happen with that much talent in the ring, there’s no way to say for sure, I reckon!
BG: Sure there is. One in four. Aurora has a twenty-five percent chance.
JC: …
Aurora walks through the smoke and down to and around the ring at a slowed pace, moving all of the way around to the southeast ring post before pulling herself up gingerly onto the ring apron. She centers herself on the apron and stands facing the crowd. Another glowing emerald spotlight shines straight down on her as laser-lights mimic the northern lights onto the smoke that has gathered around the ceiling of the arena. She pauses for a few moments staring upward before turning and gingerly entering the ring.
BG: It’s called ‘basic math’, Jackie.
JC: Then why did you ask?
BG: It’s called ‘our job’, Jackie.
JC: Well, why don’t you talk about how Aurora had a pretty damn good record in multi-person matches, that was until she was submitted by Larry Tact to lose her Television title in her last Fatal-Fourway performance on May Day 3?
BG: You didn’t ask me to.
JC: Ugh. Well, I’m sure she’d be looking to turn those fortunes around. With so much on the line tonight, scoring a win would be huge.
BG: Well, yeah. But does Aurora really need a bigger target on her back right now? Aren’t the Black Rainbow harassing her enough?
JC: Speak of the Devil…
A slow pulse of white light resembling a hospital heart monitor throbs with the opening beat of “Born of Darkness.” The tron flickers with sterile images: X-rays, surgical diagrams, and emergency room chaos. A soft, echoing sound of muffled breathing, like someone lying awake in a medical facility, seeps through the arena.
Then, as the vocals begin, Dr. Holly Cambric steps onto the stage.
JC: You just had to bring up the Black Rainbow, didn’t you?
BG: Me?
JC: Yes, you!
BG: I mean, yeah. Eventually. Doctor Cambric is in the match. We had to talk about her some time, Jacko.
She's wearing a fitted, high-collared coat resembling a stylized surgeon’s gown, black with blood-red lining. Her gloves are clean and white. Her face is expressionless, head tilted slightly like she’s observing the crowd as subjects, not people.
She doesn’t raise her arms. She doesn’t speak. After a few moments, she is joined on the stage by “The Left Hand of Maraeth” Emilia Glaskov!
JC: Oh, hold on now, Brody. Wait a second. That’s Emilia Glaskov!
BG: She’s the one that competed earlier against Dickie Watson? The Advocate, I believe.
JC: Yes, Brody. But she’s also the one who blacked out Fenway Park and attacked Aurora after her match at Rebellion. I don’t like the looks of this. I don’t like it at all.
Emilia has, in her hands, a dozen red and black roses; and she’s wearing a crooked smile. She nods to Holly Cambric, and the two of them walk slowly and controlled, every step measured, down to the ring. The camera focuses on Holly’s eyes, which are still found to be unblinking and analytical. There’s a brief cut to Aurora, who has taken a defensive stance in the center of the ring. But she does not appear to be backing down.
BG: I have to give Black Rainbow props.
JC: What? Why?!
BG: They march to the beat of their own drum. They do their own thing. I like that.
As Holly reaches the ring, she climbs the steps methodically and wipes her boots twice on the apron, sterile habits she refuses to break. She enters under the bottom rope deliberately and, after the referee forces Aurora back to her corner, kneels briefly in the center of the ring.
Then she rises, receiving a nod from Emilia, who has taken a place at ringside.
The final haunting note of the theme echoes as she removes her coat, folds it precisely, and hands it to Emilia with surgical detachment. She paces the ropes once, then retreats to her corner.
JC: Well, I’m glad that you appreciate whatever the hell it is that they’re up to. All Black Rainbow does for me is give me the creeps.
BG: I wouldn’t worry about it. Remember, our esteemed General Manager is on the job.
JC: Speaking of ol’ Petey…
A custom version of BEAST by Tech N9ne begins to blast on the arena's speakers accompanied by the reaction of fans in attendance.
Insanity at it's finest
Fire starter,
Riot maker,
Moon stricken,
Animal need,
Bad seed,
Untamable beast!
A cloud of ocean blue smoke fills the top of the ramp, as the special lighting shines down upon the smoke it gives off the appearance of waves.
BG: Well, if it isn’t our resident former Universal Champion James Shark.
JC: The crowd is absolutely going electric right now, Brody!
BG: Well, we said the war between Shark and Nickles wouldn’t be pretty. It ended up being ugly, just not in the way Shark would have wanted.
Everybody around me always think they know what's going on inside my mind
think I'm Mr. Trash Talk all the time
How they say on Diary 'You think you know, but you have no idea'
As the music kicks in, Shark jogs out of the curtains on cue. The chains around his neck sparkling into the camera as he's wearing a T-shirt that insults his opponents. He stands at the top of the ramp with his hands on his waist as he looks out into the crowd and takes a moment to look around at the packed arena. He nods his head with his typical cocky smile stretched from ear to ear. Before heading down the ramp he closes his eyes and spreads his arms out with his hands open, absorbing the mixed reactions of boos, cheers and screams coming his way.
JC: Outwardly, Shark appears as though nothing is bothering him. But you know he’s got a lot festering beneath the surface. He has a bad taste in his mouth that he wants to spit out, here, tonight!
BG: Winning the Xtreme Championship would be a small measure of righting the ship, Jackie. But Shark could put on the performance of a lifetime here tonight and Rebellion will still linger over him.
JC: This could be the most dangerous version of James Shark that we’ve ever seen.
BG: Now that is terrifying. And exciting.
He sings along to the music as he walks down the ramp, taking off his shirt on his way there and throwing it into the crowd without looking. He slides into the ring and begins to bounce off the ropes before shadow boxing. He then walks around the ring mouthing out something to the crowd about his opponents, the insults continuing but the broadcast is unable to pick it up.
BG: You think we’re ever going to get the ring mic’d so we can hear whatever it is he’s saying?
JC: I’m not a lipreader by trade, but I believe he said something about ‘a big ass magnet’ and ‘sharing needles’, Brody.
BG: What? That makes no f’n sense. Don’t quit your day job.
JC: Finally, our 24/7 Xtreme Champion!
Madison Dyson saunters out onto the ramp as a plume of gold smoke filters out.
BG: Man, I’d love to know what is going on through her mind right about now.
JC: Yeah, I know, right?
Madison Dyson then heads down the aisle confidently, bitching out any plebes that dare to boo her. She's often clad in elaborate feathery robes. The X-Tron shows a barrage of images of Madison kicking the holy living shit out of that abject loser Sean Parker and others, intercut with her name logo and a queen's crown laden with barbed wire.
JC: She had a, well, a weird, but otherwise typical interview with Steve Sayors earlier in the week. She looked a bit off, especially…
BG: Especially when she started puking black and seeing shit at the end?
JC: Well, I wasn’t going to go that far.
BG: Yeah. But at least she looks okay now.
Once at the ring, she takes her time getting in, walking gingerly up the steps and demanding the official hold the ropes open for her.
JC: Well, as okay as one can look when you feel like the whole world is against you.
BG: Not the whole world, Jacko. Just Peter Principle and Thaddeus Duke. You know, the usual suspects.
JC: Dyson had a point about how these three competitors made it in this match for sure. But that doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that Aurora, Holly Cambric, and James Shark are standing in between her and her second defense. Who will come out on top?
The referee checks Doctor Cambric twice over for foreign sharp objects. Once, and only when he is absolutely certain that there are no syringes on her person, does he vacate the center of the ring and allow the four competitors to go at it.
JC: Looks to me like ref’s being extra cautious when it comes to Cambric. I don’t understand the added scrutiny. Nothing is technically illegal in this match, right?
BG: Yeah, well, I think for the sake of our paying audience we can leave big pharma out of this.
The bell rings and the match officially begins. All four meet in the center where it appears that some strong words are exchanged by at least three of them. It’s followed by Madison Dyson throwing a headbutt at James Shark and Aurora throwing a punch towards Dyson only to have it blocked by Holly Cambric. Cambric drags Aurora back away towards the ropes where the two begin a heated exchange of words. Meanwhile, Shark counters Dyson’s second attempt at a cheap shot with a knee lift followed by a staggering uppercut. Shark looks up to see Holly and Aurora jawjacking and he charges forward, clotheslining them both over the top and down to the floor below!
JC: Shark taking an early control here!
BG: He needs to be careful, though.
Shark spends an extra moment to point out Emilia Glazkov at ringside, telling her to stay out of his business. He turns and walks right into a standing dropkick by the defending Xtreme champion. Dyson slides over top of Shark for the lateral press but Shark kicks out so goddamned immediately that the referee didn’t even bother to start to count.
When Shark is back up, Dyson attempts to take him over with a side headlock takedown but Shark shoves her off and into the corner. He charges in but Dyson slides out of the way. Shark hits the turnbuckles chest first. Dyson follows up with a neckbreaker, taking the former Universal Champ down.
Outside the ring, Emilia is standing by Holly coaching her to get back up. But before she can, Aurora pushes Holly back down to the ground and comes face to face with Emilia Glazkov, who has been harassing her on social media for several weeks now.
JC: Look at this, what’s going on on the other side of the ring there?
It appears Glazkov is offering Aurora the black and red rose bouquet that she brought with her. It also appears that Aurora knows that this is a trap. She takes a swipe at the flowers, but Emilia is too fast. Aurora catches nothing but air, and yet, this does not faze Miss Glazkov. She holds the flowers out even further now, practically begging for Aurora to take them from her.
BG: I don’t know what this is all about.
JC: Could this be love?
BG: Come on. You really buyin’ that, Jack? Glazkov is playing mind games.
JC: Looks like they are working, too!
Aurora balls her fist, and just when it seems like she is going to cock back and level Emilia, Doctor Cambric comes up from behind and shoves Aurora back into the ring. Cambric and Glazkov share sideways glances before the Black Rainbow’s resident Doctor follows her patient back in.
JC: Trouble in the house of the Black Rainbow perhaps?
BG: Cambric’s apparently under orders to help Aurora win at any cost.
JC: That doesn’t make sense though..?
BG: Since when did anything the Black Rainbow do make sense?
JC: Fair point.
By the time Cambric slides back in, she sees Dyson stomping away at Aurora, who is hunched over against the bottom rope. Dyson moves to the side and offers Cambric to get in on the action, but Cambric throws her knee right into the Xtreme Champion’s ribcage instead!
Dyson stumbles back, landing in a corner, where Doctor Holly follows up, now laying the boots to her. James Shark comes up from behind and Cambric throws a back elbow that Shark ducks. Shark throws the Doctor over with a judo hip toss and then turns his attention back to Dyson, who reaches up and rakes him in the eyes!
JC: It’s already chaos in the ring, and no love lost between either four of these competitors. The match has barely begun!
BG: You know this is going to get a lot worse before it gets better, right?
JC: What do you mean?
Dyson pops back up and charges at Shark. She collects Shark with a bulldog and hits Holly with a leg drop at the same time! The crowd pops the innovative maneuver, but Dyson doesn’t have too long to think about it before Aurora spins her around and hits her with an open hand strike across the face.
Dyson retaliates with a slap of her own and the two women begin an all out brawl with Madison gaining the advantage. She cocks back for a spinning heel kick, but Cambric catches Dyson’s leg a mere inch from making contact with Aurora, and Shark charges in and nearly spears Dyson nearly out of her boots!
Shark goes for the cover but it is immediately broken up by Cambric, who tries to pull Shark back up to a vertical base only to eat a few jabs to her midsection allowing Shark to rise. Shark kicks Cambric in the midsection and attempts a stunner, only to have Cambric shove him off right into an Entropy Blade knee strike from Aurora!
JC: V-trigger!
BG: She got all of that one.
Shark stumbles back to the ropes and Aurora goes to charge him when Doctor Holly once more steps in Aurora’s way. She’s the one who ends up bum rushing Shark only to be back body dropped over the top rope and out to the floor below! Aurora is right behind her, though, and Shark back body drops her as well, only Aurora lands on the apron instead. The Xtreme Champ Dyson charges looking for a front double-leg dropkick on Shark, but Shark sidesteps her, and Dyson dropkicks Aurora with authority crashing down onto Holly Cambric!
“This is awesome! This is awesome!”
By the time Dyson is back to her feet, James Shark spins her around and tries to hit a Paid in Blood! But Dyson ducks. She charges the far ropes and bounces back towards Shark at full stride. Shark ducks but Dyson launches herself over the top rope taking both Holly Cambric and Aurora out on the floor with a somersault plancha!
Shark looks back over his shoulder and shakes his head at the three women laying broken on the ringside floor.
BG: Madison Dyson is pulling out all of the stops here to prove why she’s the best of the best.
JC: Do you think Dolly is watching somewhere?
BG: She’s suspended, Jacko. I don’t think Peter gouged her eyes out.
Shark steps through the ropes and goes to pick up Madison, but his concentration is momentarily broken when Emilia Glazkov approaches carefully. Shark takes notice and has some words for the Advocate of Black Rainbow, which gives Dyson enough time to get back up and to come back at James with a forearm smash. Shark stumbles back towards the ring steps and Dyson continues on with the barrage.
Finally, Shark blocks Dyson’s attempt to slam him face first into those steps and instead, irish whips the defending champion into the barricade by Glazkov, forcing her to tactfully retreat.
Shark is then immediately clubbed from behind by Doctor Cambric, who then attempts a wristlock. No! She snaps off a vicious roundhouse kick that staggers the former Uni Champ.
JC: She calls that “For Medicinal Use Only”, Brodie.
BG: The Doc has educated feet to match her medical degree.
Shark stumbles back, practically into Dyson’s arms against the barricade. Cambric goes to close the distance, but this time it’s Aurora with a shove from behind that sends Cambric slamming hard into the back of Shark, causing Shark and Dyson to butt heads.
JC: Meeting of the minds!
BG: That’s the kind of thing that could easily cause blood to be shed here tonight.
Cambric barely gets out of the way when Aurora charges the barricade. Shark is able to move himself out of the way but Dyson catches a full force Entropy Blade as the two women spill over the barricade and into the front row! Cambric grabs Shark by the wrist and irish whips him hard into the apron section of the ring. She is working to follow up on Shark when Emilia reminds her to focus on helping Aurora. Cambric nods her head and changes directions, opting to move toward the barricade instead. Doctor Holly reaches over the barricade to try to help Aurora back to her feet, only to have Aurora shove her away.
Aurora gets up on her own and turns back to Dyson and yanks her back to her feet. She tries to toss Dyson back over the barricade but Dyson with an eye gouge buys herself a fraction of a second. Cambric reaches over the barricade and takes Dyson by the hair but Dyson counters by grabbing the Doc by her head and falling straight down, bringing Cambric down on the metal barricade throat first. Cambric staggers back into the waiting arms of Emilia who pulls her off to safety before Dyson can retaliate. Dyson goes to climb over the barricade, but gets Superman punched by James Shark!
BG: That’s Shark’s finisher! The Paid in Blood!
JC: The old version, yes.
BG: What does it matter? It looks like he got all of it!
JC: Does him no good outside the ring.
BG: Or does it? The Champion is still under 24/7 rules…
JC: Oh? Oh!
Dyson staggers back and falls onto a fan who is getting a lot more than they paid for here tonight. Shark reaches over the barricade to try to pull her back over when a chair suddenly comes flying at him, cracking him in the head!
BG: Oh shit. Here we go.
Shark falls backward onto the ringside floor. The cameras catch a close up of him, there’s a large gash above his eye and it is pouring. Aurora, still holding her one gouged eye, grabs Dyson by the hair as she steps over the barricade. Aurora hooks Dyson’s head and… reverse neckbreaker down onto the barricade! Dyson’s skull bounces off of the metal with a sick thud as she slumps down at the feet of the fans in the first row!
JC: I think we’re taking that turn for the worse, Brodes.
BG: I told you so.
Aurora pulls herself up to see Shark just now realizing what happened to him. She moves to follow up on him when suddenly, she sees Emilia Glazkov with her bouquet of roses again. What she doesn’t see is Doctor Cambric sneaking around the ringside area, moving to come up behind her.
JC: Not this crap again. Come on!
Emilia holds out the roses yet again, but this time in her other hand she appears to be hiding the cracked black goblet!
JC: Consecration! That damned poison we saw Emilia use at Rebellion!
Just when it seems like Aurora is finally about to take that well-deserved swing at Miss Glazkov, Doctor Holly grabs Aurora from behind, locking her in a full nelson.
BG: It was a set up! This whole thing has been a set up!
Aurora struggles to break free from the hold, but Emilia smiles and gives Aurora a little peck on the cheek before revealing the goblet. Aurora struggles as if she’s fighting for her life, but there’s seemingly no use.
Emilia sprays the black mist from the goblet, like a venomous strike!
But Aurora somehow manages to break Cambric’s grip at the last possible moment, and instead it’s Doc Holly getting juiced!
JC: Backfire! The poison strike backfires!
BG: Well, that’s what you get when you play with chemicals. Don’t try this at home, kids.
Aurora smirks, looking back at Cambric, who has… no reaction to the poison whatsoever. The Doctor simply wipes it from her eyes as if Emilia sprayed her with nothing but water.
JC: Wait, what?
Emilia has enough in the goblet to go for round two, but the entire thing is broken up by a bloody James Shark catching Aurora with a superman punch that sends her tumbling into Emilia Glazkov! Shark barely has any time to react, however, when Doctor Cambric locks in the “Local Anesthetic” nerve pinch from behind! Shark winces in pain, but he spins out underneath of her grasp only to take her with a rear waistlock. He rushes her and shoves her with all of his might into the ring post, causing Doctor Cambric to bounce off of the steel face first with a sickening thud!
BG: James Shark was having none of that.
JC: Say what they want. Shark is a brilliant tactician. No one can take that away from him.
BG: Yeah, but it’s still worrying that the only blood in the water right now is his own.
Before Shark can even catch a moment to clear his own eyes from the blood, however, Madison Dyson comes leaping off of the barricade with a dropkick that sends Shark into that very same ringpost! She wastes little time pulling herself to her feet, clutching her head as she does, and grabbing Shark to pull him over to the ring steps where she places his jaw first down on the corner of the middle step.
JC: Oh my god, you cannot be serious. Is she going for American History Yikes?!
BG: What’s stopping her?
Actually, it's Aurora, who comes charging from the other side of the steps, leaping over James Shark to catch a Dyson with a Lou Thesz press! Aurora rains forearm strikes down on the defending champion! After a full flurry, she lays across Dyson’s chest, pinning her!
One!
Tw-
Shark from seemingly nowhere slams the discarded chair down across Aurora’s back to break up the fall!
BG: Now they’re showing us how they really feel.
JC: Turnabout is fair play. Aurora introduced the chair to this contest and now she’s paying for it!
Shark yanks Aurora off of Dyson only for Dyson to roll Shark into a small package!
One!
Shark slips out near immediately, because of the blood he’s covered in. Dyson and Shark both rise to their feet, Dyson first, and she snaps off a superkick that catches Shark under the chin. Shark stumbles back right into the grip of Doctor Cambric who kicks him in the back of the knee. Cambric appears to be a crimson mask as well now, blood mixed in with the remnants of black bile on her face, but she’s got Shark down on one knee facing away from her. Cambric rushes and uses Shark’s shoulder as a springboard to catch Dyson with a diving DDT, NO!
Dyson counters with an exploder suplex on the lightly padded concrete floor!
Madison Dyson is in complete command as she eyes up Aurora, when Emilia Glazkov catches Maddy’s attention. She’s waving the roses in Dyson’s face like she’s waving the flare in the T-rex’s face in Jurassic Park. When Dyson turns, Emilia takes a swing at her with the roses. Dyson ducks the bouquet shot, and the roses slip from Emilia's hands, scattering everywhere, and revealing a hefty length of lead pipe previously hidden among them!
JC: Emilia Glazkov just tried to take out the 24/7 Champ with that weapon!
BG: She’s not even in this match.
JC: …or is she?
By the time Emilia turns, she sees an incensed Madison Dyson staring her right in the eyes. Glazkov doesn’t plead, doesn’t beg, doesn’t hardly react. She takes a stance in front of Doctor Cambric, and casually drops something on the ground in front of her Black Rainbow colleague. Dyson snatches Glazkov with a quick kick to the gut followed by a “Miss Feel Good” Neckbreaker on the floor!
JC: Finally! Madison Dyson taking law and order into her own hands!
BG: Wait a second, what did Glazkov pass to Doc Holly?
Doctor Cambric crawls towards the item and picks it up. It’s a syringe filled with a red substance!
JC: Oh god damnit.
BG: We’re starting to see the real plan play out, here. Black Rainbow came prepared, apparently.
JC: Madison, watch out!
By the time Dyson grabs Cambric by her hair to yank her up, she doesn’t even notice the object hidden in Holly’s hand. Once standing, Dyson traps Cambric’s arm and looks to hit a Miss Feel Good on her, too, when suddenly, the syringe is buried in her forearm!
JC: NO! Not like this!
Cambric goes to push the plunger on the syringe, but Dyson swipes the plunger away with her free hand, breaking the needle off in her arm! The syringe bounces over towards Aurora and leaks out most of the red substance right in front of her. Dyson takes a moment to PULL THE BROKEN NEEDLE OUT FROM UNDER HER SKIN WITH HER TEETH AND SPITS IT BACK AT DOCTOR CAMBRIC FOLLOWED BY A PUMP KICK UNDER THE CHIN!
She spits out what little drops of red substance she can, too, on the ringside floor and shoves Doctor Cambric back into the ring!
BG: That was, without a doubt, the most badass thing I have seen in a while, Jackie.
JC: They wanted to drug our Xtreme Champion, and Madison Dyson just said NO!
Aurora comes up from behind Dyson as she tries to pull herself back into the ring and stops her dead in her tracks. Dyson counters with a back elbow that staggers Aurora and sends her stumbling back towards the ring post. Shark is up with the chair in hand, and he takes a huge swing at Dyson with it who escapes by rolling herself back into the ring. Aurora follows up by kicking the chair right back into Sharks face!
JC: Aurora Beam!
Inside the ring, Dyson yanks Cambric back up to her feet and wastes no time dropping her in the center of the ring with the MISS FEEL GOOD!
COVER!
One!
Two!
Thr-
Aurora dives in to break up the pin!
JC: Oh gee, that was close, Brody.
BG: We were a split second away from Dyson retaining, but Aurora saved the match for the challengers, for now anyway.
With Dyson and Aurora both at their feet, toe to toe, the atmosphere becomes even more electric here in the arena. There’s no love lost between these two and when they start trading forearm shots after forearm shots, it’s unclear who exactly the crowd would like to come out on top, until of course, there are a rain of boos when Dyson once more gouges Aurora’s eye. Aurora counters with a step-up enzuigiri that puts Dyson in perfect position for the spike curb stomp!
JC: Starburst Sonata!
BG: No!
When Aurora went to bounce off of the ropes, James Shark pulled the top rope down and Aurora went spilling out onto the floor! Shark slides right in the ring where Aurora left off, he leaps into the air, and comes crashing down onto Madison with the SHARKBAIT!
COVER!
One!
Two!
SCALPEL LINE TO THE SIDE OF SHARK’S SKULL!
BG: Doctor Cambric broke that up just before the count of three!
Cambric looks around. She’s got Dyson down. She’s got Shark down. Aurora is down on the outside of the ring and so is Glazkov. After a few moments of what appears to be intense decision making, Cambric slides herself out of the ring instead of capitalizing! She appears as though she is moving for Aurora, but instead, steps over her to help Glazkov back up.
JC: What the hell is she doing?
Emilia and Holly appear to have an exchange of words before Glazkov slips even more items, most likely more syringes, into Holly’s possession. The camera catches a brief glimpse of them. Two with green substance, another with the same red from before. And there’s a third color… a black syringe.
Doctor Cambric takes syringes with her back into the ring, where Madison Dyson is there to meet her with a sitout jawbreaker, causing the syringes to spill all over the ring. Dyson follows this up with a sneaky roll up, hooking all of Doctor Cambric’s tights in the process!
ONE!
TWO!
THR- Cambric somehow manages to slip out!
The two women both spin back up to their feet only for Doctor Holly to leap onto the Xtreme Champions back and bring her crashing down with a backstabber! FLATLINE PROTOCOL!
BG: Flatline! Flatline!
JC: Can she follow up with the rear naked choke, though?
Holly does, she is able to get the body scissors around Dyson’s frame, but just in time for James Shark to come flying in with another SHARKBAIT!
JC: Paybacks are a bitch, aren’t they Doc?!
BG: Shark got all of that one. Her head bounced like a basketball.
Shark tosses Dyson aside as he pulls Doc Holly back to her feet. He charges at her with everything he’s got, leaping into the air-
PAID IN BLOOD!
PAID IN BLOOD!
NOOOO!
Emilia Glazkov grabs Cambric by the ankle and pulls her out of the ring right before James Shark can hit it!
Shark hits the ropes and stumbles back right into Dyson’s waiting grip who rolls him up with an inside cradle!
ONE
TWO
THR-NO!
Shark kicks out just at the last possible second!
JC: Christ! She almost had him!
They both rush back to their feet. Shark swings with a wild elbow strike only to have Dyson catch him and pull him up for the DEAD BITCH WALKING!
DEAD BITCH WALKING!
NOOO!!!
Shark slithers out of her grip absolutely drenched in his own blood. Dyson turns around only to have Shark absolutely DRILL her with a PAID IN BLOOD!
IT HITS! SHARK GOT ALL OF IT!
JC: This is it, Brody! New champ! New Champ!
BG: The James Shark redemption tour starts tonight!
COVER!
ONE!!
TWO!!
THREEeeeeeeNOOOOOO!!!
This time it’s Doctor Cambric who dives in and breaks up the three!
No! She didn’t!
Shark moved out of the way and Cambric came splashing down on Dyson instead!
Shark waits for Cambric to pull herself back up before absolutely drilling her with a PAID IN BLOOD! NO! CAMBRIC DUCKS!
DOC HOLLY WITH A SECOND OPINION - NO!
SHARK COUNTERS WITH A SPINEBUSTER THAT DROPS CAMBRIC DOWN ON TOP OF MADISON DYSON’S BENT KNEES!
JC: Did Shark just use Dyson to hit Cambric with a modified version of her own move?!
BG: Her back is not going to feel good in the morning! Whatever that was!
Shark wants to capitalize on Cambric, but he can’t when Aurora takes a rear waistlock from behind! Dyson with an upkick under Shark’s chin allows Aurora the momentum she needs to hit Shark with a release german suplex!
JC: Insane!
Aurora is back up when Emilia Glazkov makes her presence known on the ring apron, and she’s holding the lead pipe! Aurora sees this, and when Glazkov chucks the pipe in her direction, Madison Dyson shoves Aurora to the side and intercepts the weapon! She thanks Glazkov for her service and turns to use the pipe on Aurora! Dyson cocks back and goes for the BASEBALL SWING-
CAMBRIC DIVES BETWEEN DYSON AND AURORA, TAKING THE FULL BLAST OF THE SHOT HERSELF!
DYSON looks down at Cambric, who is motionless, but simply shrugs her shoulders.
She turns to hit Aurora too when Aurora ducks the swing-
CONSECRATION!
EMILIA GLAZKOV SPRAYS THE BLACK MIST RIGHT IN DYSON’S EYES!
DYSON DROPS THE PIPE AND CLUTCHES HER FACE AS IF IT’S ON FIRE!
JC: Damn it! All hell is breaking loose out here!
BG: This isn’t controlled chaos. This is simply chaos!
AURORA charges and hits another ENTROPY BLADE, THIS TIME CATCHING DYSON RIGHT ON THE SIDE OF THE JAW!
DYSON IS STAGGERED!
PAID IN BLOOD!
HOW?!?!
JAMES SHARK JUST DRILLED AURORA IN THE SIDE OF THE HEAD WITH HIS ELBOW!
A LOUD METAL CLANG REVERBERATES THROUGHOUT THE ARENA-
AND AURORA IS STAGGERED!
PLUS DYSON CAN’T SEE!
CAMBRIC IS DOWN!
SHARK WITH ANOTHER PAID IN BLOOD, THIS TIME TO DYSON!
CONNECTS!!!
DYSON IS SENT THROUGH THE ROPES AND OUT TO THE RINGSIDE FLOOR!
JC: THIS HAS GOT TO BE IT! NEW CHAMPION! NEW CHAMPION!
BG: JAMES SHARK IS A CRIMSON MASK- BUT HES FOUGHT THROUGH IT ALL JACKIE!
SHARK IS EYEING UP AURORA WHEN HE LEAPS FOR ONE FINAL PAID IN BLOOD!!!
BUT THEN SUDDENLY- He stops.
JC: Wait… what’s going on?
Shark looks down to see a syringe half-filled with a green substance, and Doctor Holly’s thumb pushing the rest of the drug into his veins!
Shark takes a single stagger step forward, looking completely drunk, and losing consciousness fast!
BG: No, not like this!
Shark using all of his strength to fight it…
Can only do so much…
Before doubling over…
and then…
AURORA DESTROYER!!!
Aurora charges and drills the bloody shark with a Canadian destroyer, in the center of the ring!
COVER!
ONE!!!
TWO!!!
DOC HOLLY- DOESN’T BREAK UP THE PIN!
DYSON- ALSO DOESN’T GET THERE IN TIME!
THREE!!!
WINNER AND NEW XWF X-TREME CHAMPION: AURORA!
JC: I… I don’t know what to make of all this!
BG: I don’t think anyone does. But Emilia and Doctor Holly sure seem happy with themselves.
The referee goes to hand Aurora the championship belt, when Emilia Glazkov intercepts him, snatching the belt, and shoving the referee to the ground. The crowd erupts in boos.
JC: Speaking of, what the hell do these Black Rainbow idiots want, now?
BG: They want to show the locker room that they are in control, Jackie. That’s what they want.
Glazkov approaches Aurora and offers to hand her the Xtreme belt, along with one of the black roses from earlier. Still dazed from the match, and with Dyson and Shark being helped to the back, Aurora does not yet realize how much Glazkov’s interference aided her. Cambric is just now pulling herself to her feet, tucking the black syringe into her ring gear and gingerly taking a stance next to Glazkov.
Glazkov drops the belt, and the black rose, at Aurora’s feet.
…BAM!...
Suddenly Glazkov drops to Aurora's feet too.
JC: What?! What's this now?!
Cambric turns and ducks a superkick just in time!
She retreats in surprise to the corner of the ring as Glazkov rises and stares right in the face of Kieran King!
The crowd erupts!
And so does Brody Goodman…
BG: THE KING! THE KING IS BACK! ALL HAIL!
JC: And Emilia Glazkov - this wicked Advocate for the Black Rainbow - is a big part of why we haven't seen The King of the XWF in a month! Her, that savage Sarah Wolf, and whatever that disgusting black goo is!
BG: It doesn't matter why he was gone, just that MY King, YOUR King, OUR King is here to save his kingdom!
In spite of her predicament - involuntarily on one knee before the king - Glazkov merely smiles up at Kieran.
Kieran… smiles back?
Before spitting in Glazkov's face! Just like she spat the Consecration in Kieran's face back at Mayday 3!
With Glazkov distracted, the King snaps her up into the air. F UR HEAD!
But Cambric pulls Glazkov free!
The two roll from the ring and start backing up the ramp.
BG: Long live the king! Like I said, Jacuinde, he's here to save his kingdom! And the Black Rainbow is hightailing it out of here!
JC: I don't know if either of those statements are true. There's a confidence in those two demons, Glazkov and Cambric, as they walk up the ramp. I think they're choosing to fight on their terms, rather than on the King's - just like they did with Aurora in tonight's main event.
BG: When will you stop doubting the King?
JC: When he gives me any reason to believe he cares about anyone but himself.
BG: He's right there with Aur–
BAM!
Kieran King blasts Aurora with the superkick that he missed on Cambric!
JC: Right on cue.
Brody remains silent this time, but the crowd does not.
There's still a referee in the ring! And the X-Treme Champion is down!
King looks down at the belt on the ground.
He steps on the black rose next to it, and then picks the belt up…
Before tossing it onto Aurora's body.
KING: Consider that one more title of yours that could belong to me.
The show fades to black as King Kieran leaves the new X-Treme Champion laying in the centre of the ring.
THANKS TO…
OUR MATCH WRITERS
Jimmy Stars
Peter Principle
“The Bashmaster” Barry Masteron
Charlie Nickles
Thaddeus Duke
OUR SEGMENT WRITERS
Charlie Nickles
Sebastian Everett-Bryce & Isaiah King
The Messenger
Kieran King
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