RP Deadline is 11:59:59 PM PACIFIC on SATURDAY, JUNE 28, 2025
All matches are 1 RP/4k unless stated otherwise.
PYRO! SO MUCH PYRO! JUST WHEN YOU THINK… hmm, that’s probably enough pyro…
THE GREATEST STRING OF PRE-SHOW PYRO YOU’VE EVER SEEN!
And that familiar soundtrack kicks off… ONCE AGAIN, IT’S WARFARE!
The camera sweeps across a sold-out Target Center in Minneapolis. Energy runs through the capacity crowd like electricity running down a live wire. 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 “TACTILIZE ME, LARRY” to “ALLEGEDLY, GRAVY GOT HIS ASS KICKED”
BG: Ladies and Gentlemen, we’re on the road to Leap of Faith! Every competitor on the XWF roster is looking to send a message to management. Saying, *I* am the future of this company! Put me in the Leap of Faith match!
JC: Absolutely, Brody! It cannot be overstated the implications of winning Leap of Faith. Because the match’s winner secures a 24/7 briefcase and, with it, the right to ‘cash-in’ and challenge *any* champion to a match for their title at any time!
BG: And, with Leap of Faith on the horizon, we’ve got some MAJOR matches tonight! The new X-Treme champion, Aurora, takes on the multi-time world champion, Dickie Watson!
JC: Stiff challenge for her first X-Treme title defense, Brody! Then… the American Storm RAGES! After months of partnership, we’re going to see Razor Blade battle Latoya Hixx!
BG: Truly, a dream match come to life! As the American Nightmare battles the Storm!
JC: Followed by Lucy Wylde defending her Television championship against self-proclaimed ‘Rookie of the Year’ Solomon Kline! The enigma Schism battling the returning, dominant ex-Revolution champ, Matthias Syn!
BG: A fight between legends of the wrestling industry as Aidan Collins battles The Tactilizing One, Larry Tact!
JC: And finally, the Black Rainbow battles the tag-team champions who… we saw last week… are just as likely to battle each other as they are to battle their opponents! Anything can happen!
JC: That’s right, Brody! And many questions are unanswered going into Leap of Faith! Who will be competing in the Leap of Faith match? And who will be challenging the Universal champion Charlie N-[/white]
JC: And speak of the devil!
BG: Business is picking up here in Minneapolis!
The lights drop when the music hits. That’s when a burst of green and red pyro explodes across the stage.
Charlie Nickles steps through the curtain dressed to kill. He’s in an immaculate all-black suit, sharp and clean. The BIG GOLD Universal Championship rests on his shoulder.
BG: It’s CHARLIE NICKLES! The current reigning Universal Champion!
JC: And he’s not alone tonight!
Indeed, he’s flanked on both sides by the Warfare GM’s personal security team! Big Preesh and ‘Big Puddin’’ Herschel Kiss, wearing sunglasses and Big ‘n Tall Men’s Suits, both secure the perimeter as they talk into earpieces.
Closely following Charlie Nickles is… Elon Musk! And the autonomous grappler, Dwayne ‘The Grok’ Johnson!
JC: Elon Musk?!? What’s he doing here?
BG: Why wouldn’t he be here, Jacko? He managed to pull off what the wrestling world would have thought impossible! And thrashed Enigma just two short weeks after Enigma put down Thaddeus Duke so hard we haven’t seen him on XWF programming since!
JC: Enigma pummeled the Grok up and down the ring, Brody! If it weren’t for Charlie Nickles, Enigma would have DISASSEMBLED Grok!
BG: All I know, Jacko, is the W in the record books went next to Grok’s name!
Finally, the caboose of this entourage… Warfare GM, Peter Principle! Wielding a microphone!
The crowd is split 50/50 down the middle regarding this motley crew of corporate interests. Half the arena chants Charlie’s name. The other half boos with all their hearts.
As Charlie reaches the bottom of the ramp, he defiantly raises his belt, as if he’s above both groups.
JC: I cannot *believe* there are people in the crowd cheering for this three-ring circus…
BG: Really, Jacko? You can’t believe there are XWF fans tired of the commies and the freaks running around like they own the place, interfering in main event matches and whining about change! This era is about taking back control! And Peter Principle proved he could do it if he had a partner champion willing to take on the mantle of the XWF’s defender. And that defender is Charlie Nickles!
JC: Pfffffff, defender?!? Do you hear yourself, Brody! Charlie doesn’t care about the XWF! He cares about himself and that belt!
The entourage makes it to the ring… Charlie stands dead-center, the security team makes it to the sides of the ring. Elon and Grok take up a spot standing near the turnbuckle as Peter cannot wait to stand beside his corporate champion, Charlie Nickles.
…Peter raises the microphone to his lips.
As a MAELSTROM OF BOOS RAINS DOWN UPON HIM!
JC: This crowd may be torn on Charlie… But they DESPISE Peter Principle!
…Peter grins ear-to-ear as he lifts the microphone up to his face.
Peter: What did I tell you last Warfare?
For once, the crowd quiets down as Peter speaks…
Peter: That we? Peter gestures towards himself and Nickles. Were returning ORDER to the XWF!
…
Peter sneers.
I’d heard it all… Management can’t handle the Black Rainbow… Management can’t put down the Revolution…
RE-VO-LU-TION! *clap clap clapclapclap*
RE-VO-LU-TION! *clap clap clapclapclap*
JC: There’s a chunk of this crowd that is still firmly Pro-Revolution!
RE-VO-LU-TION!
NIC-KLE-MAN!
JC: …But I can’t deny, there’s also a chunk of this crowd that seems willing to bend towards this new regime.
BG: Chunk? The Nickleman crowds are DEFEANING! I can’t even hear this Revolution chant you’re talking about over it!
JC: Get your ears checked, Brody! The Revolution support here is still LOUD!
…Peter pauses, stewing angrily in the moment, thinking about all the people who insinuated he was incompetent. That the chaos around his show was his personal failing…
...But! After TWO WEEKS of having an ACTUALLY-CAPABLE champion! Peter gestures toward Nickles, as if revealing him to the world. The XWF is back under control!
JC: …That seems a little pre-mature!
BG: Mission accomplished, Jacko! Promises made, promises kept! The XWF is BACK!
Last Warfare, you all witnessed as the Enemy of the XWF, Enigma! The brute who physically decimated XWF COO Thaddeus Duke… Was SOUNDLY defeated!
JC: He was not! Grok got pummeled! It was basically a three-on-one match that Grok still would’ve lost without Charlie putting Enigma down with a Devil Hook Drop!
RE-VO-LU-TION! *clap clap clapclapclap*
Peter’s eyes light up, pointing at the crowd!
And SPEAKING OF REVOLUTION! On Anarchy… which previous Universal champions had zero interest in corralling or exerting control… Charlie Nickles THRASHED ‘Micheal Graves’! He dropped him onto thumbtacks! He dropped him on his skull! He made Anarchy’s #1 outlaw look like a CLOWN!
JC: What is Principle talking about?!? Graves won the match against Nickles!
BG: Sheesh, Jacko. I don’t know how you can look at ‘Graves’ lying in a pool of blood outside the ring and Nickles smiling inside of it and say ‘Graves’ won…
JC: Brody, what was all that about “the W in the record books” being next to whose name?
BG: Don’t try to twist my words against me, you socialist!
The Black Rainbow situation is under control! The Revolution has been TAMED! Dolly Waters is GONE!
The mention of Dolly Waters kicks off ‘Dolly’ chants!
DOLLY! DOLLY! DOLLY! DOLLY!
…Peter sneers, briefly dropping the mask of control.
Shuddup!
That makes the crowd chant twice as loud!
DOLLY! DOLLY! DOLLY! DOLLY!
…Peter raises the microphone back to his lips!
Chant her name all you want, it’s the only TRACE of her that’s going to appear on MY program!
The crowd boos!
The XWF is back under control! WE have taken back control!
Peter nods beaming proudly.
…
Which brings us… to Leap of Faith.
SUDDEN SCREAMING OF EXCITEMENT FROM THE CROWD!
JC: This crowd hates Peter Principle, but they love Leap of Faith!
Charlie Nickles, your hero and mine… must defend his Universal championship!
…
Previously, the duty of announcing the challenger to the Universal championship would fall to Thaddeus Duke.
…
Peter sniffs as if trying to summon a single tear.
“Thad's absence of course weighs heavily on all our hearts... ... But, we must move on! We've always waited for Thaddeus Duke to announce the #1 contender to the Universal Title... but in his absence, someone must declare a challenger... So the duty falls to me…”
The crowd amplifies its booing of Principle ten-fold!
And I take the mantle humbly... But also knowing I am the single best man to fill this role!
…
And I think I know exactly who to give the spot to…
…Peter turns to face the corner…
Where Grok and Elon are standing. Elon smiles expectantly, as Grok stoically stares off in the distance.
JC: Oh God, no. No, c’mon!
BG: What are you complaining about, Jacko! Charlie’s about to main-event with the Most Electrifying Machine in Sports Entertainment! Think of the star ratings! Think of the star POWER!
JC: This is absolutely disgusting! Peter wants to run his corporate champion against his mechanical puppet! Whoever wins, Peter wins!
Peter: I was thinking of who best defended the XWF… aside from of course our greatest champion, Charlie Nickles…
And naturally my mind turned to the man who AVENGED Thaddeus Duke! Who beat Enigma! Who represents the dream that anyone can make it in the XWF!
…
So long as you remember who’s in charge.
There’s no better leap of faith to take, than a leap of faith into the benevolence of The Corporation. And so at Leap of Faith, in Lexington, Kentucky…
JC: No! Someone stop this!
Elon hits a button on his tablet and Grok starts to walk toward the center of the ring…
Challenging Charlie Nickles… It’s DW-
LIGHTS OUT
Guerilla Radio hits, and the stadium transforms into something teetering on bedlam.
In the ring, The Corporation’s goons become frantic, pacing the ropes and looking to the stage, to the floor, looking everywhere trying to spot the Revolution. Charlie Nickles, meanwhile, just rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed as he rests his back against an unoccupied turnbuckle. That’s when Peter springs into action, waving down a herd of XWF security, and they begin to fill the ramp and the ringside.
JC: That’s the sound of Revolution, Brody!
BG: What in THE hell are THEY doing here? These damn godless, communists, these treasonous saboteurs, if they don’t like it here, THEY CAN LEAVE!
JC: We haven’t even seen them yet, Brdy, all we’ve seen are security officers flooding out from the back.
BG: Well good! The revolution will indeed not be televised.
The cameras are scanning everywhere, and still no sight, until one spots it!
SPOTS HER!
JC:IN THE CROWD! IT’S DOLLY WATERS!
The crowd begins an earthquake of a chant of her name!
A shaking camera zooms in on her face, as she stands straight, dawning the same all black ring gear she’s worn for nearly a decade. Standing tall, unwavering, despite her leg injury, looking directly at Peter, Charlie, and the entire XWF corporate machine in the ring.
NO! NO! WHO LET HER IN?!
Peter barks into the mic, and begins commanding security to,
REMOVE HER!
HAVE HER ARRESTED!
SHE’S NOT ALLOWED ON THESE PREMISES!
The security officers hop the guardrail and begin rushing up the steps of the arena. But swaths of fans begin creating a human barricade just away from Dolly not letting the officers near her. There’s a skirmish in the stands, that's on the verge of devolving into full blown chaos, and a settlement check that Peter Principle doesn’t want to sign.
He waves down the security officers to stop their advance, and looks up as Dolly is handed a megaphone from a fan. The roar of the crowd is deafening, but as she raises it to her lips, and cuts through the noise with an ironclad voice that demands attention.
Let’s get one thing straight, Peter!
She shouts into the megaphone, pausing for a beat, her gaze teeming with a righteous fury,
I’m not out here to beg for a handout.
The people who sweat, and bleed, and break, and die for this industry, ain’t looking for a handout either.
I’m here to fight.
To fight for them, because they’ve called upon a fighter!
The crowd is chanting
“FIGHT DOLLY FIGHT!
FIGHT DOLLY FIGHT!” so loud it momentarily dwarfs the megaphone,
Fight for the people who’ve been trampled on by this industry for far too long!
I’m fighting to unionize this industry, to unify this industry, to bring the UNIVERSAL truth to all its people!
She points directly at Peter and Charlie,
I’m fighting to protect its workers from wannabe overlords, who only seek to profit from the pain of even our modest modest dreams!
You think you can just sit at the top of your corporate throne and offer us scraps, while you rake in millions off our backs?
The crowd roars, chanting her name in unison.
You ain’t NEVER getting away with that so long as I’M here!
She sneers, narrowing her eyes on Peter,
You’ve suspended me, Peter. Cute.
A lot of good that did, huh?
Pete is seething in the ring, stomping his foot, knowing his suspension was of little help,
What you really wanted to do was fire me. You couldn’t do that. You had to find a loophole to get me out of yer precious company, because yer scared. Terrified! Yer’ terrified of what I represent.
Yer terrified to see me wielding that UNIVERSAL truth I’m fighting for.
Fine, Peter… I get it.
If I were a spineless wimp, who married myself to a murdering lunatic like Charlie Nickels, and anointed them the new face of my aspiring oligarchy, then I’d be scared of me too!
You might’ve suspended me, Pete, but I ain’t done… am I?
Do you think I haven’t noticed that this suspension I’m serving is scheduled to end right when my contract expires?
July 21st, 2025. The day after Leap of Faith.
You think yer’ funny, huh? Let’s not play games…
You wanna get rid of me so badly?
I’m giving you a deal you can’t refuse.
The crowd buzzes with anticipation,
You want me gone for good?
Fine. I'll leave.
But there’s one condition.
You give these people what they want.
You give them the match at Leap of Faith.
Me, Dolly Waters, versus that scumbag Charlie Nickles, for the Universal Championship![/dolly]
JC: She’s laying down the gauntlet, Brody!
BG: What in gods name makes this little antifa terrorist think she deserves THAT?!
JC: Dolly Waters has been defeated TWICE since last November, Brody. She’s pinned two of the three most recent Universal Champions clean as a whistle during that time. She is every bit a deserving competitor for that championship, and everyone in this building knows it!
You’re suspended, REMEMBER! You’ll be watching Leap of Faith from your trailer park! Peter spits,
But here’s the best part for you, Pete… if I lose? her voice is steely. If I lose, I’ll tear up my contract. I won’t re-sign. I’ll walk away from this company… forever.
The arena goes silent,
JC: No, no! She shouldn’t have to do that, Brody.
BG: You said she’s laying down the gauntlet. She wants to push the rest of her dwindling chip pile on the table, so be it! Big bank, takes little bank everytime!
But if I win?
I’m going to give the XWF no choice but to unionize.
A Universal Champion who will use their influence to bring change a little more impactful than changing into a cheap tuxedo, CHUCK– the workers, the wrestlers, the crew, the staff– they’ll finally get their fair share of the wealth that WE create, not just the crumbs handed down by these bloated degenerates. I’ll fight for this industry, for its future, and for every person who has ever been exploited by the likes of you!
Dolly throws the megaphone down, and raises her fist into the air, revealing a crutch grasped by her fingers this entire time,
Peter’s eyes light with a wild revelation, he looks… excited, ready to pounce at something, his stomach swelling at the thought of seeing Dolly wiped off the face of the industry, for good! Meanwhile Charlie appears unfazed, still resting against the turnbuckle with the championship belt strewn across his chest.
Peter raises the mic to answer her–
But then The Nickleman looks at Peter Principal before snapping his fingers, and Peter quickly hands the microphone over to him. Upon receipt of the mic, Charlie steps forward and takes his place in the center of the ring.
“Dolly… I know you don’t mean the things you say.
You never do.
All that nasty rhetoric, those nasty insults just now…that’s not the real you.
That’s just what you think you need to say.”
The Nickleman uses his finger to gesture towards all the mindless fans packed inside the stadium.
“But Dolly, I’m telling you…there’s a better way.
You don’t have to keep up this cheap veneer for those peasants in the crowd. I know you. The real you.
And I know what you want, what you’ve always wanted…
Power.
Recognition.
Respect.”
The Nickleman steps towards the front of the ring, staring right through Dolly Waters as he repositions the big gold belt upon his shoulder.
“And Dolly, I’m not here to cut you down for trying to get it. You know I respect your ambition.
I’m just here to offer you a better way. A smarter way.
I’m offering you a way in.
You don’t need this revolution bullshit.
You don’t need Mark Flynn and Schism weighing you down.
All you need is to bend the knee.
But not to me…
To us!
You and I, finally reigning together at the top.
This was always supposed to be us, Dolly, just like we used to talk about years ago.
You and me—together—at the top.”
Charlie Nickles stands at the edge of the ring, his free hand gently caressing the top rope as he stares down Dolly Waters.
“That was the plan from the beginning, whether you want to admit it today or not. I know you remember as well as I do, all those long nights we spent on the road, drinking and dreaming- dreaming of a day just like this.
Dreaming of the day when we’d finally be on top.
Every bloodstained step I took?
Every body I broke, every bridge I burned?
It wasn’t just for me.
It wasn’t even just for her.
It was for us- all of us, together.
Don’t forget…L-S-M loved you like family…just like I did.
And she believed in you. She believed in us.
She thought we were unstoppable together.
That’s what she wanted.
Me and you. Side by side. Shoulder to shoulder, while she stares down at us with a smile.”
The Nickleman looks up towards the heavens, clutching the microphone in front of his chest like a cross.
JC: Charlie’s a sick, sick bastard! He’s using the memory of his dead daughter to guilt-trip Dolly Waters into selling out!
BG: He makes a compelling point, though! As her father, he’d know what she would want! And maybe she would want Dolly Waters to sell out!
JC: Yeah, and maybe she secretly wanted Charlie to muder her, too!
BG: Maybe!
The Nickleman redirects his gaze back towards Dolly Waters, eyeing her down just as he prepares to dress her down in front of this sold-out crowd!
“But now?
Now you’re throwing it all away to play dress-up revolutionary with Mark Flynn, like he ever gave a damn about anything but himself! I went to Anarchy to FREE YOU from him and his wretched influence! To show you how fake and vapid his revolutionary nonsense really is. You wouldn’t throw all of THIS away for THAT, would you?
You have to understand: this thing I’ve built, The Corporation, it’s more than just a power grab, Dolly.
I built it with you in mind. As a partner. An equal. A sister-in-arms.
It’s a boardroom with no glass ceiling, but only if you’re smart enough to take your seat.
I know things have gotten twisted. I know you've been hurt.
But I see you. And I still believe in the version of you that believed in me.
So I’m not asking for an apology.
I’m not demanding obedience.
I’m just offering you a way back.
You join me on the inside, and we’ll lock the door behind us.
We’ll tear this place apart from the top down.
The fools can chant. The rebels can rot.
You and me? We’ll run the whole damn show!
It’s what she would have wanted.
And deep down… I think it’s what you want too.
So what do you say, Dolly?
Will you come back and be one of Charlie’s Carnies?”
The confidence and excitement Peter had, has been washed by a look of horror.
JC: I think the idea of Dolly joining the corporation has Peter horrified!
BG: But what if she does, Jacko! She and Charlie could be unstoppable together!
…Dolly lifts her microphone.
There was a Charlie Nickles I once believed in… yer’ right.
I believed in him when no one else ever seemed to.
Maybe all those years ago, if you had stood where you are now, and I was standing here all the same, you making the same offer yer’ making now, maybe I would’ve believed you then too.
Maybe I would’ve believed back then, that you’d be willing to topple the institutional rot between the walls of the XWF. Maybe back then I believed that there was a decent human buried deep behind those squinty eyes of yers’. Maybe back then I would’ve never given up on you, Charlie… and maybe that’s why I never did…
Her face turns sour with anger,
But that was before you killed her… YOU FUCKING KILLED HER!
Robyn Gonzalez was a person who should’ve been protected by the XWF, protected from YOU! But instead she's gone, while they stand fat and happy in the middle of that ring, raking in more and more money, and anointing the man who killed her as their champion.
So read my lips:
I.
Will.
NEVER.
EVER! EVER! EVER!
Join YOU!
Peter lets out a relieved breath, ok! GOOD!
C’mon Dolly… don’t be so gullible, I–
No, no, no! –
Charlie shoots a wild look at Peter,
--I mean… sir… You heard what she said! She doesn’t want your most gracious offer, Mr. Nickleman. So how about we indulge her idiocy?!
YOU WANNA’ PUT YOUR CAREER ON THE LINE, YOU TRAILER TRASH COMMIE?!
YOU’VE GOT IT!
In the main event of Leap of Faith, it will be The Corporation’s own, Charlie Nickles defending The Universal Championship against… and crushing, and stamping out, and smothering, and bludgeoning, and beating into submission… Dolly Waters.
And when it’s over, YOU WILL NEVER WORK FOR THIS COMPANY AGAIN!
Peter tosses his microphone to the ground as Charlie Nickles’ music blares throughout the arena!
JC: Oh my God! You heard it here first, folks! Leap of Faith! Charlie Nickles vs Dolly Waters! The Universal Title will be on the line! And if Dolly loses…
BG: You mean, WHEN! WHEN Charlie Nickles, THE CHAMPION OF THE XWF, beats Dolly Waters in the middle of that ring, her career and the entire Waters Wrestling Legacy is DEAD!
JC: It’ll be a barnburner! The Spirit of the Revolution versus the Family Man! The former tag team champions and WarGames teammates collide!
JC: Folks, you know it’s going to be an insane night of action when we’re opening with our X-Treme title match!
BG: The X-Treme title by itself is worth a spot in the main event! But a match between these two competitors? It’s going to get absolutely NUTS in this building!
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: There he is! The one-time “GOOD GUY”! The “UNDERDOG”! Dickie Watson! Though the Underdog moniker may not be as applicable to him, given he’s a multi-time world champion in the wrestling industry!
BG: You ain’ kiddin, Jacko! Dickie took his fair share of lumps since his debut, but dag GUM, he looked like a whole different animal last Warfare against Emilia Glaskov!
JC: He took everything the eerily evil Glazkov threw at him and managed to, with efficiency and vision secure a victory! He looked every bit like the world champion wrestling fans have seen before… And maybe even a little better!
BG: No doubt! But he’s got a STIFF challenge tonight against the current X-Treme champion!
He holds this, eyes floating over everyone, and then moves a beat later. Not with urgency, not with showmanship. Just steps forward like the rest of the world is moving slower than him. He doesn't look to the sides, doesn't soak it in. He's not here for the moment, he's here for the thrill. Every movement is precise, like a blade being unsheathed. Quiet, measured. He walks down the ramp towards the ring, eyes still glancing off to the side, turning his head slightly to acknowledge fans and enemies alike. At the barricade, he reaches out and slaps a few hands not necessarily out of respect, but more of obligation. These are the people who kept him alive for so long, and what he does this for.
He rounds the corner to right, bypasses the steps, and jumps, both feet hitting the apron in one clean lift. Without grabbing the ropes, without pause, he slings himself over the top and lands near the dead center of the ring, bent knees taking the brunt of his leap. He circles the ring once, loose-limbed, cracking his neck slightly, and stops. Near the far corner, he crouches with his elbows on his knees, fingers dangling inbetween as his music fades.
…
All lights in the arena go dark and James Hetfield's opening vocals of Metallica's "The Memory Remains" blares suddenly over the public announce speakers. A minimal yet vocal minority of the fans in attendance shout the first lyrics aloud along with the singer:
Fortune, Fame, Mirror, Vain
Gone Insane
But the Memory Remains
The lights and the big screen both stay completely black. A single word appears on the screen:
. : A U R O R A : .
The guitar and drums come crashing in, along with the rest of the instrumental section. Soon after a mako green spotlight shines down upon the stage where Aurora herself is now standing. She’s wearing a mask that covers her face in what looks like old, pitted cast iron. Her hands and wrists are taped in all black tape and her silver-colored hair is pulled back into a ponytail. A smoke machine billows from beneath her, partially obscuring the view.
Rochelle Adams: Making her way to the ring at this time, she hails from Arizona Bay. She is the reigning and defending X-Treme champion! Ladies and Gentlemen, AURORA!
JC: There she is! An absolutely dominant force! Aurora has been having a breakout year in the XWF!
BG: No doubt, Jackie Boy! Aurora’s claimed wins over Ned Kaye, Prince Adeyemi, Charlie Nickles… THREE of the most Universal champions… She took out Yelena Gorgo! And she just put down Madison Dyson of all people, who appeared absolutely dominant as X-Treme champion!
JC: But, the reward for victories like the one’s Aurora has racked up is only stiffer and stiffer opponents! If Aurora can beat Dickie Watson tonight, this might be the highest profile win of her XWF tenure!
BG: But, if Dickie wins… Could you imagine him going all the way and getting a 24/7 briefcase?!?
Aurora walks through the smoke and down to and around the ring with purpose, moving all of the way around to the southeast ring post before pulling herself up onto the ring apron. She centers herself on the apron and stands facing the crowd. Another glowing emerald spotlight shines straight down on her as laser-lights mimic the northern lights onto the smoke that has gathered around the ceiling of the arena. She pauses for a few moments staring upward before turning and entering the ring.
Both competitors lock up. Dickie passes around Aurora and grips a rear waist lock!
Aurora backs Dickie into the ropes, then leverages forward with a snapmare, leaving him in a seated position..
Aurora rushes the opposite ropes, and rebonds with a low dropkick aimed right for Dickie's chin.
Dickie rolls aside and to his feet, dropping an elbow onto Aurora.
9th
Aurora rolls aside and back to her feet as Dickie scrambles, hooking Aurora by the back of her ankle and sweeping her back to the mat.
Dickie pivots and mounts Aurora, but she flows from the mount beneath Dickie and behind him with a rear waistlock.
Aurora raises Dickie to be erect, but he backs her into the ropes and leverages her forward with a snapmare this time.
CRACK!
Watson with a disgusting kick to the spine of Aurora.
JC: Dickie Watson is so cold and calculating, taking the snap kick over the high impact route.
BG: High impact? Dickie just cracked Aurora's spine!
Dickie brings Aurora to her feet with a firm head hold.
CRACK!
Dickie with a vicious open handed chop to Aurora!
Dickie hits a basement dropkick to Aurora, sending her to her hands and knees!
Watson bounds off the ropes, and hits Rise To Glory!
Dickie slides out of the ring and looks underneath it!
BG: Watson knows that stomp is only going to slow Aurora down, Jackie, he's looking for that Xtreme edge.
JC: You’re right, Brodie, but who knows what he'll find under there!
While Aurora slowly recovers, Dickie pulls a bag out from under the ring.
Dickie looks inside the bag and is immediately shocked, dropping it.
A snake slithers out of the bag, and wraps itself around Dickie's legs!
Dickie reaches down, struggling with the python below his waist.
Aurora has pulled herself up and glances over the top rope, seeing Watson is preoccupied with the XWF's resident snake-what-lives-under-the-ring.
Aurora exits the opposite side of the ring and reaches below, pulling out a canoe paddle!
BG: This can't be good for Dickie!
JC: Watson is just dealing with that damn snake, who keeps putting it under the ring?
Aurora raises the oar triumphantly, and the crowd roars!
She begins to run.
She rounds one corner, passing the entrance!
She rounds the second, bounding over the ring steps!
She rushes towards Dickie!
CRACK!
Aurora claps Dickie's cheeks with the paddle!
The snake is instantly startled by the noise, and loosens itself from one of Dickie's legs as Dickie falls to the ground.
The snake wraps around one of Aurora's legs, constricting!
Aurora falls to the ground, beside Dickie!
Dickie, holding his ass in agony from the super paddling, throws an elbow back at Aurora!
Aurora jabs at Dickie with the canoe paddle.
JC: Why is there a canoe paddle under the ring?
BG: The real question is why wouldn't there be, Jackie.
Dickie throws a right at Aurora!
Aurora again jabs with the canoe paddle!
Both struggle with the snake constricting one of each of their ankles!
Both get separation from one another, and reach under the ring!
Aurora pulls out a bottle of water, and throws it at the snake!
Dickie pulls out a whistle.
Dickie blows the whistle!
BG: Oh my, Jackie, we're in for a treat tonight!
JC: It looks like Dickie found the parade marshal whistle, beckoning the XWF Marching Band!
A full marching band begins walking out onto the stage and towards the ring!
The snake is absolutely scared shitless by the cacophony as the crowd is simultaneously thrilled by the impromptu performance of the marching band and terrified by the snake currying off into their midst to escape the band!
Dickie and Aurora get to their feet!
Dickie rears back a right hand…
Aurora with the Event Horizon onto Watson!
Dickie is doubled over, so Aurora brings the canoe paddle down on his spine!
Another shot from Aurora, and the paddle snaps!
Aurora goes for a pin!
The referee, who is on the outside, counts!
1…
2…
The marching band walks into the referee, disrupting the pin attempt!
JC: Well as talented as the marching band is, Brodie, they seem to be tampering with the match!
BG: No way, Jack. That whistle is one of the most devastating weapons in the XWF catalogue for this very reason!
The first flute hoists the referee up and into the ring!
Aurora is to her feet, but is lost in the shuffle of the marching band!
Watson is hoisted by the french horn and put into the ring!
Aurora rounds the third corner of the ring, carrying her canoe paddle as she struggles among the mass of musical humanity.
The referee is to his feet, checking to see if Dickie can continue.
The band walks, forcing Aurora past the announce table, as Brodie stands and gives the traditional Boy Scout Sign out of respect.
Dickie pushes the referee's hands away, slowly getting to his feet.
Aurora passes the fourth corner of the ring since she had been outside of it, still gripping the canoe paddle.
Dickie to his feet, and struggling to find Aurora among the band!
BG: Aurora is hiding in plain sight!
JC: There is no way either competitor tonight was ready for the level of insanity in an Xtreme Championship match in the XWF!
BG: Maybe, Jackie. There's hardcore, there's violent, and then there's XTREME!!!
Watson finally spots a canoe paddle marching along with a tuba and a trumpet!
The band finally stops, having fully encircled the ring.
Watson hits the ropes, charging towards Aurora, and leaps!
Tope con hilo onto Aurora!
Dickie knocks the tuba player, two trumpeters, and an oboist to the floor as Aurora drops the paddle and ducks at the last minute!
Dickie to his feet, searching for Aurora as the band continues to play!
Having snuck under the ring, Aurora appears on the other side, calling for the band to move as she pulls something out!
Watson is lost in the shuffle of the band.
Aurora slides a pane glass table out from under the ring!
JC: GLASS TABLES!?
BG: You thought the snake was nuts?
Aurora slides the glass table into the ring, catching Dickie's attention.
Dickie continues to maneuver through the band.
The referee inspects the glass table, ensuring it's Xtreme enough, then signals that it is!
Watson has approached the percussion section and wrenches the bass drum away from the bass drummer!
Aurora sets the glass table up in a corner as Dickie slides the bass drum into the ring.
BG: Business is about to pick up!
JC: Business? This thing needs an audit!
Dickie reenters the ring, and hoists the drum high!
Aurora turns, and Dickie rushes!
Aurora with another Event Horizon!
Dickie drops the drum, which breaks over Aurora's head and ensnares her even though it's not a snare drum!
Aurora struggles to escape the drum!
Dickie slowly gets up.
Aurora rushes Dickie, but Dickie with a drop toe hold to counter!
Aurora shatters the drum on her fall!
The bass drummer shrugs and begins playing the ring steps instead!
Dickie pulls the glass table out of the corner and sets it up!
Aurora is to her feet, another Event Horizon!
NO!
Dickie catches the foot and gives a dragon screw leg whip!
Dickie follows up with a leg drop to Aurora!
Aurora rolls aside, and grabs the boot of Dickie!
Aurora to her feet, bringing Dickie to a vertical base!
Huge forearm from Aurora!
Aurora shoots Dickie into the ropes, and Watson rebounds toward Aurora with the glass table behind her!
Aurora bends to back drop Dickie through the glass!
NO! Watson with a stiff kick to the chin!
Aurora recoils, and Dickie shoots in, pulling Aurora close.
Dickie pivots Aurora 180 degrees!
DICKIE'S REVENGE THROUGH THE GLASS TABLE!
*HOLY SHIT!*HOLY SHIT!*HOLY SHIT!*HOLY SHIT!*
The marching band goes silent as the XWF Universe goes wild for what they just saw.
JC: OH MY GOD!
BG: GOD HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT!
Dickie, feeling the impact and several shards of glass, reaches over, draping an arm over Aurora.
1…
2…
THRE-NOOOOOOOOOOOO!
AMIDST THE SHATTERED GLASSES AND POOLING BLOOD, AURORA DEFIANTLY SHOVES A SHOULDER OFF THE MAT!
BG: Oh my GOD! How the HELL did Aurora even survive that one?
JC: And what can Dickie possibly do to keep her down?
Dickie looks despondent, staring up at the official in disbelief, holding up three fingers… The official shakes his head holding back two.
…Aurora… blood streaking down her back like a cape, crawls to her knees…
As Dickie slowly rises back to a vertical base…
Aurora… exhaustedly, life fleeting, rests on one knee…
JC: …Oh no… Aurora may have kicked out, but she may be out on her feet…
Dickie drags the X-Treme champion forward into a front facelock…
He goes for a second…
DICKIE’S REVENGE!
…
But Aurora spins out the side! Dickie spins around… as Aurora bounds off the ropes…
ENTROPY BLADE! A leaping knee catches Dickie in the face! He collapses to the mat like a ton of bricks!
BG: Oh my God! No way! Aurora still has life!
JC: Like a phoenix rising, she summons life from death itself!
Aurora, on shaky legs, backs towards the ropes… As Dickie cradles his face on the mat… Aurora stomps, beckoning her opponent rise…
The crowd rises to their feet!
JC: Aurora could end it right here with a Starburst Sonata!
BG: What a first defense for the X-Treme champion!
Dickie rises up, bent forward…
Aurora, with the last bit of fuel in her tank, shoves off the ropes…
STARBURST SONATA!
…
DODGED! Dickie pulls his head back and Aurora’s boot connects with mat!
BG: Oh mah GOD! Dickie, on pure reflex, slips out!
JC: Brody, you keep calling Dickie’s survival reflexes! I think this is the instinct of a champion on display here!
Aurora, who put every bit of juice she had into that stomp, looks off balance, slipping to one knee… As Dickie slips behind her…
REAR NAKED CHOKE!
Aurora’s eyes widen! She scratches and claws at Dickie’s bicep from one knee… As Dickie collapses onto his back, cranking Aurora’s throat shut!
JC: Oh my GOD! This is… this is intense!
BG: This is X-TREME, Jacko! Dickie’s tired of Aurora kicking out so he’s KNOCKING her out!
Aurora claws… Like a desperate animal, she rolls… Reaching for the ropes… Dickie tries to drag her backwards… But his exhausted body ends up in a tug of war against hers!
Aurora’s fingers stretch…
…Stretch… For the ropes…
…
……
BEFORE HER HAND FALLS LIMP!
The official calls for the bell!
WINNER AND NEWWWWWWWWWWW XWF X-TREME CHAMPION: DICKIE WATSON!
JC: Holy SHIT, Brody! These two competitors went to WAR! They both left everything they could in the ring… and maybe more! This might have a permanent impact on their bodies!
BG: They’re both warriors, Jacko! They’ll fight again. But, Dickie Watson secures his first piece of gold in the XWF… And more importantly, he took a victory from one of the greatest competitors to ever grace the XWF. Absolutely incredible match.
The crowd are seen chatting amongst one another when the lights suddenly go out in the arena, causing a little buzz from the crowd.
''Wrestling has more than one... royal family.''
As soon as those words are heard, the crowd inside the Target Center erupted as you heard the commentator's reaction as well.
JC: What?!? No freaking way! Is he here? Is Razor Blade in the building?!?
BG: …Do you mean ‘Is Razor here for the match he’s scheduled for?’ …Yeah, I imagine he is, Jacko. Is this a joke?
Smoke emanated from the stage, completely covering as you weren't able to see anything through it and before you knew it, Razor Blade is seen walking through the smoke, a big smile on his face as the crowd erupted even louder at the sight of the American Nightmare.
JC: Minneapolis’s own! Razor Blade!
BG: …’Minneapolis’s own’? Razor’s from Atlanta! Jackie, you havin’ a stroke?
''Adrenaline, in my soul
Every thought out of control
Do it all to get them off their feet''
Razor glanced out at the crowd, nodding his head pointing out towards them dressed to the nines in one of his many custom suits as he knelt down, tapping the ramp with his fist, jumping up to his feet as he extended his arms out.
JC: The American Storm has been teaming together in the XWF for over a year! But never before have they faced off one-on-one! Mano a mano!
BG: Phew, finally, Jackie, you’re making sense! Yes, Blade and Hixx have been on the same side of the ring many times… But what’ll happen when they go head-to-head!
''Crowd is here, about to blow
waitin' for me to start the show
out the curtain, lights go up I'm home
Whoooooooooooooa!''
A burst of pyro went off behind Razor as he brought his arms in before pumping his fist as one final big burst of pyro went off behind him Razor glanced out at the crowd again, that smile remaining on his face as he walked down the ramp, high fiving members of the crowd in the front row before going over and doing the same thing on the other side of the ramp. Razor walked down the rest of ]the ramp, stopping at the end of it as he looked around before walking towards the steel steps. He glanced down at them, before tapping them with his hand as he raised his arms trying to pump up the crowd before walking up the steel steps as he scaled the turnbuckle, looking around before extending his arms as even more pyro went off on the stage. Razor hopped down into the ring.
…
JC: …Lotta time to make an entrance, huh, Brody.
BG: Shhhhhh, the best part’s coming…
The lights went dark!
The sound of thunder Ker-ACKS throughout the arena!
Over the PA system, a woman laughs…
A Storm…
Is…
COMING
Suddenly, the lights turned blue! Rain falls from the rafters above as Latoya Hixx walks out at the top of the ramp, flexing her muscles!
JC: What an entrance! American Storm, despite teaming for the better part of a year, is made up of the two of the hottest-tempers on the XWF roster!
BG: Absolutely, Jackie! Both these two hate losing, and they’ve taken their fair share of lumps this year. This match might be a chance for these two to reset… Let off steam to re-calibrate their efforts as a unit!
JC: Or it might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and these two actually try to kill each other!
BG: Either way! Must-see TV!
The lights return to their default settings as Hixx walks straight down the aisle and she slaps a few hands of wrestling fans!
Hixx climbs up the steel steps, then enters the ring…
The lights dim and she flexes her muscles one final time!
DING DING!
RAZOR BLADE
- vs -
LATOYA HIXX Last Person Standing Match
Razor Blade’s eyes narrow, his jaw tight, as if trying to swallow all the frustration from weeks of losses. His fists clench and unclench, shoulders rolling with restless energy.
JC: If you were worried Razor wouldn’t bring his A-game against his long-time partner, those fears were unfounded! He looks LOCKED-IN! Ready to out-think Latoya, just like he said in his promo this week!
BG: He’s focused, Jackie, I’ll give ya that. But Razor ain’t a thinker. He’s a feeler. He’s gonna try and bulldoze through Hixx!
Latoya Hixx puffs out her chest, cracking her neck like a hood ornament on a monster truck. She steps forward, smirking with pure condescension.
They meet at the center of the ring!
JC: Here we go! The American Storm is about to EXPLODE!
They both reach for the collar-and-elbow—but it’s sloppy. Razor grabs Latoya’sshoulder too high, trying to pull her in, but Latoya’s hands are already trying to push. Their timing’s all wrong. Razor jerks forward, but Latoya bucks back. Both stumble—
—and suddenly they’re just shoving!
JC: Whoa! This doesn’t look much like a wrestling match!
Razor grits his teeth, lets out a grunt, and pushes into her chest with both palms. Latoya snarls, swiping his arms down and answering with a shove that nearly topples him. Their feet get tangled and they collapse in a tangle of limbs.
[white]BG: Woo hoo! This is a damn demolition derby!
JC: Clearly some mounting frustration getting released her between partners! In the ring, they’ve frequently felt like they were one wrong move from turning on each other!
BG: And now we’re seeing it play out live!
From the ground, Razor snarls, his fists hammering up into Latoya’s ribs. His face is scrunched, like he’s been holding this in a long time. Latoya barks in pain, rage flashing across her eyes. She rears back her elbow and slams it downward onto Blade’s skull!
…But Razor narrowly slides his head out of the way!
JC: Close shave for Razor! That could’ve been a knockout blow there, Brody!
BG: You ain’t k-... Oh, go to hell with that pun, Jack, I almost missed it.
They tumble across the mat, grunting and throwing wild punches and frantic kicks. There’s no technique. Just two tag partners letting months of resentment explode. The official drops to a knee, trying to order them to reset!
JC: The official’s trying to turn this scrap back into a more traditional grapple…
BG: Forget grapplin! This is two kids on the black top tryin’ to give each other’s indian burns and wet willies!
JC: …Is it still okay to say ‘Indian burn’?
Latoya finally catches Razor in the side with a huge clubbing forearm. His head whips to the side and he clutches his jaw, eyes watering.
Hixx sees her chance—a cruel grin spreading across her face—and hooks her massive arms around Razor’s waist from a kneeling position.
With a roar that echoes through the Target Center, Latoya grits her teeth, plants her feet on the mat…
and clean-and-jerks Razor off the ground like he weighs nothing!
JC: WOW! UNBELIEVABLE STRENGTH BY LATOYA HIXX!
BG: She got him up! But where’s he going!
Latoya heaves Razor…
Like a sack of potatoes up and over her head backwards!
FALLAWAY SLAM!
Razor sails through the air and SLAMS across the canvas, skidding, tumbling, and disappearing halfway under the ring apron!
BG: Haha, oh my GOD! Latoya just sent Razor on a first class flight outta the ring!
Latoya wipes sweat off her brow and struts after him, a swagger in her step. She drops to a knee, peering under the ring like she’s stalking prey. Razor’s legs twitch slightly under the a[ron, the rest of him buried beneath.
JC: I think many might have speculated an even bout between these partners, but Latoya has taken complete control in the early going!
Hixx stalks him along the ringside, planning her next attack. Razor is woozy, barely on one knee, blinking the cobwebs from his eyes. He stumbles forward into the audience barricade, trying to stand upright, as fans pat him on the shoulder…
Then, inspiration strikes Latoya. She points to the far barricade Razor’s leaning against, drawing a jagged line with her finger like she’s planning his funeral.
JC: Oh dear… those fans might wanna clear outta the way!
BG: Latoya’s a linebacker running on a buttered floor! She’s gonna run through whatever she’s aiming at… and she ain’t stopping for nothing!
Latoya roars and charges—shoulder down, aiming to drive Razor through the barricade like a battering ram!
…
But Razor's eyes widen, panic surging into instinct! As Hixx’s charges, Blade drops low, grabbing her ankle between his heels—
—DROP TOE HOLD INTO THE BARRICADE!
CRACK!!
Latoya’s face smashes flush into the steel! Her whole body jerks forward, slumping against the wall, stunned and dazed!
JC: Oh my God! Surprisingly deft technical counter from Razor Blade!
Razor palms the exterior ring pole to force his way back to his feet… leans against the ring apron, face twitching with a grimace, holding his ribs. He looks up, almost disbelieving, a wild half-smile creeping onto his face.
BG: Damn, quick thinking by Blade1 Hixx went headlong like a bull in a china shop, and Razor gave her just enough rope to hang herself!
Hixx lies immobile, face against the railing, limbs splayed… As the ref begins to count!
1... 2... 3…
JC: Remember, Brody! This one’s Last Person Standing! First competitor to fail to rise before the count of ten… Loses!
Latoya’s face twitches—eyelids fluttering, lips pulled back in a snarl like a lioness smelling blood.
The fans count along with the official!
FOUR!
FIX!
SIX!
Hixx plants one boot on the floor, using the barricade to lever herself up. Muscles tremble, but that tank-like frame forces its way upright.
JC: Hixx is up! She’s up at six! Can you believe it, Brody!
BG: Sure can, Jacko. Razor’s counter hit her in the head, Jacuinde. That’s the one part of Hixx’s body she doesn’t use.
Razor sees his opponent vertical and lurches forward from his lean against the apron, still sucking air, body hunched. His face is tight, eyes squinted as he grabs Latoya’s shoulder from the barricade to haul her back toward the ring.
But Latoya suddenly twists around, rage flashing in her eyes. She grabs Razor by the wrist, swings her hips under, and launches him overhead with a violent Beale toss—
—straight into the second row of the audience!
JC: Oh my goodness! Razor just got sent sprawling into the fans!
BG: Minneapolis is getting the full XWF experience tonight, Jacko! Action so close, you can reach out and touch it!
The crowd erupts into chaos as fans dive out of the way, chairs clattering and souvenir cups flying like confetti.
Razor crashes through a chair, tangled in velvet Twizzler ropes and popcorn buckets, his limbs akimbo. His face is slack with pain, his chest heaving.
But Latoya doesn’t give him space. She vaults over the barricade, stomping through spilled soda and abandoned merch. She throws herself onto Razor, fists swinging wildly, grabbing him by the collar of his vest and hammering punches like she’s punching through drywall.
JC: Holy cow! Once again, American Storm assumes a position of pretzeled punching!
BG: Not to be confused with any of the jumbo soft pretzels they’re rolling on top of!
Razor groans, trying to cover up, legs kicking instinctively as they roll through the second row, flattening chairs and knocking over a fan’s 56-ounce jumbo soda, (in a souvenir cup in the shape of Bama T’s head.
BG: Somebody get these people a refund!
Razor finally catches Latoya’s fist, twisting at the wrist. His face is bruised, his jaw clenched with a snarl of pain. He kicks up with both feet, shoving her off for just a second.
The crowd screams around them as the two stumble back upright. Razor lunges for a forearm, cracking it across Latoya’s collarbone. She answers with a headbutt that makes everyone wince.
They stagger down the row, locked in this ugly, clumsy brawl—like two wrestlers too proud to admit they’re exhausted, too angry to stop swinging. The fight spills past spilled nachos and trampled signs, every few steps punctuated by another desperate punch or shove.
Finally, they reach the end of the aisle. Latoya’s back hits the steel guardrail by the timekeeper’s area.
Razor steps back, panting like a steam engine. His face tightens into a grim, reckless grin. His legs coil.
JC: Razor’s finally gonna try and send her back towards the ring!
Razor explodes forward, looking for a clothesline…
…
But Latoya ducks!
AND BACK BODY DROPS HIM HIGH INTO THE AIR!
Razor’s body flips, crashes spine-first onto the padded concrete outside the ring with a sickening thud!
JC: Oh LORD! Razor’s vertebrae might have BROKEN after that verical!
Latoya drops to one knee, heaving, sweat flying from her brow. But her eyes are lit with unfiltered fury, like this is the most fun she’s had all year.
BG: Hixx just threw Razor straight into next week, Jacko. This ain’t about wins anymore. This is a street fight with ring ropes.
JC: Minus the ring ropes, Brody! It’s been a while since these two have brawled anywhere NEAR the ring!
Latoya manages to shove her way back to a vertical, clinging onto the barricade. She barks at the official, pointing at Razor, who has flopped onto his face, exhaustedly wheezing on the padded concrete…
The ref’s count starts again…
1... 2... 3…
JC: Can Razor answer the official’s count! Or has the Storm proved mightier today!
Razor’s fingers twitch on the concrete. His jaw is clenched so tight it trembles.
The crowd counts along!
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
Razor’s muscles tighten…
His hands press against the padding…
SEVEN
His arms tremble as he presses up to his knees…
EIGHT
Blade fights to his feet, wobbling, one hand clutching his back like it’s threatening to betray him.
JC: Blade’s up! He found a way to get himself up! What heart shown here by Razor Blade!
BG: It ain’t heart, it’s stupidity. That boy’s bones are dust.
The official gets in Razor’s grill, asking if he’s sure he can continue… But Latoya shoves herself off the barricade!
JC: Latoya storming her way toward Razor!
BG: Not givin’ Blade a second to reg-... GODDAMMIT, enough of the puns, Jacko!
Hixx grabs Razor by the wrist and yanks him forward—not toward the ring, but up the ramp.
JC: Once again, this match gets even further from the ring it started in!
Latoya whips Razor towards her…
BELLY-TO-BELLY SUPLEX UP THE RAMP!
…Razor COLLIDES with a disgusting metallic rattle, again cradling his back!
JC: We talked about these two maybe getting some feelings out and being a better team after it, Brody! But I don’t see how these two can team up after this one!
BG: Team up? Frankly, I don’t see both of these two walking without a permanent limp after this match! If you wanna put either of these two down, you’re gonna have to send them to the ER!
…Blade agonizingly crawls his way up the ramp… Latoya again stalking behind him, teeth grit, mouth curled into a grimace!
JC: All of the struggles American Storm has gone through clearly having some psychological impact… I don’t know if we’ve ever seen this side of Latoya before!
BG: Ironically, if we had, I bet American Storm wouldn’t have had so many struggles! This Hixx is a MONSTER!
Hixx pulls Razor up by the hair at the very top of the ramp, near the entrance… Hixx’s expression wild and gleeful.
Latoya hooks him around the waist, squatting low… Looking for a…
POWERBOMB!
JC: Oh god, I can’t look…
…
But Razor’s eyes snap wide! He kicks his legs, twists, and SLIPS out to the side! His boots scuff against the steel but land steady. Hixx’s hands scramble to try and re-grapple Blade…
But Razor takes two steps backwards, slipping out of her grip—then LEAPS!
He plants one foot on the LED wall beside the entrance curtain, springboards off it with a twisting flourish—
—and catches Latoya square in the jaw with a BEAUTIFUL DISASTER KICK!
JC: What a manuever! Blade hits a BEAUTIFUL DISASTER OFF THE X-TRON WALL!
BG: A beautiful disaster is what I’d call this match, Jacko! It’s an absolute trainwreck to watch, and I cannot look away!
Latoya collapses to one knee, blinking in a daze, sweat dripping from her chin. She tries to stand, but her legs aren’t listening…
JC: Latoya not quite on her back… But she might be unconscious after that kick!
The referee hesitates. But after looking at Latoya’s face… he begins the count!
1... 2... 3...
But Razor wheels around, eyes blazing, and snaps at the official. “NO! MOVE!” he barks, voice hoarse and furious.
BG: The fool’s pride’s gonna get him hurt again. He had her!
JC: I don’t think it’s pride, Brody! I think Razor knows his partner well enough to know she was gonna get back up… And he’s ready to put her down for GOOD!
Razor wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his cheek. He steps in front of Latoya, and draws his thumb across his throat.
JC: He’s calling for the Diamond Blade on the ramp! He’s gonna end it right here!
He grabs her head, pulling her into position for the Diamond Blade. The crowd rises in anticipation…
DIAMOND BLADE!
…
……
NO!
As Razor leaps…
Latoya’s eyes suddenly snap clear.
And as Razor goes up—Latoya plants her feet and scoops him even higher into her arms!
SPINEBUSTER SLAM ON TOP OF THE RAMP!
BOOM.
The steel under them buckles slightly. Razor’s body arches in pain before crumpling into a heap.
JC: RAZOR’S DEAD! He’s GOTTA be dead after that slam!
Latoya rolls off him, arms spread wide, breathing like a beast finally caged. Her head leans back, eyes glassy—but she’s smirking.
The referee looks between them, before counting!
1... 2... 3…
…Suddenly, Razor’s body convulses…
JC: There’s no way! There’s absolutely no way!
The crowd starts screaming along with the official!
FOUR!
FIVE!
Razor’s legs wobble, joints shaking…
JC: It’s as if Razor’s body is BROKEN but his will alone REFUSES to let him stay down!
BG: That’s one way to describe it! The way I see it, it’s like his body’s being driven by two kids in an overcoat standing on each other’s shoulders! He’s getting up just to get knocked back down!
JC: But he’s still getting up, Brody! …But will he do it before the count of ten!
SIX!
SEVEN!
Razor’s hand press against the ramp… His limbs shake like they’re no longer anchored by bone!
EIGHT!
He shoves to one knee!
NINE!
…
……
Somehow.
SOMEHOW!
RAZOR BLADE RISES AGAIN!
JC: HOW IS THIS MAN STANDING?!? The sheer WILL of Razor Blade!
BG: This ain’t willpower. This is whatever comes after that. A caveman brain running on muscle memory.
Latoya, still leaning against the X-Tron wall, sees Blade standing and lets out a guttural groan, her lip curling in disbelief and rage. Her nostrils flare like a bull ready to charge again, but there's something darker in her eyes now—a twitch of desperation.
JC: …I don’t like that look on Latoya’s face at all…
With a sneer, she stomps toward Razor, boots him in the stomach with a thunderous THUD. Razor doubles over, gasping for air—but still doesn’t fall.
Latoya drags him by the arm, grunting with exertion as she pulls him toward the far edge of the ramp, where the audience gasps upon realizing—there’s a ten-foot drop to the concrete below.
JC: No… No no no! She wouldn’t! She can’t!
BG: Oh, she absolutely would. And Jackie? She’s about to.
Latoya hoists Razor up into the air, tucking him between her legs in powerbomb position. Her arms bulge. Her stance widens. She lines him up, preparing to launch him off the side like trash from a balcony.
JC: oh God please no… PLEASE DON’T!
…POWERBOMB!
OFF THE RAMP!
…
Is COUNTERED!
As Latoya goes to heave Razor off the side of the ramp!
Razor wriggles, sliding off Hixx’s back, crashing behind her in a messy landing on one knee…
Latoya whirls around—
BOOM! SUPERKICK TO THE JAW!
JC: SUPERKICK! Razor’s muscle memory pulls a huge counter!
Latoya teeters at the edge of the ramp. Her arms pinwheel. Her eyes glaze, struggling to lock focus. The crowd rises as one.
[white]JC: Oh God! Don’t fall!
…
……
Hixx catches her balance. Barely. One foot slips, but she recovers. The audience sighs with relief.
But Razor isn’t done.
He dashes past her. One last charge. One final act of defiance.
He leaps, wraps an arm around her neck—
—AND HITS THE DIAMOND BLADE OFF THE RAMP!!!
BOOOOOOM.
JC: OH GOD, I CAN’T LOOK!
Both bodies crash like missiles into the padded concrete below, a thunderous SPLAT echoing in the open mall.
JC: OH MY GOD!! DIAMOND BLADE OFF THE RAMP!! RAZOR TOOK HIMSELF OUT TO TAKE LATOYA OUT!!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
The referee freezes, absolutely aghast staring down at the carnage down below… then he begins counting.
1... 2... 3...
Both Razor and Latoya lie motionless, their chests twitching, dust puffing around them.
The crowd counts along with the official…
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
JC: What a war between these two, Brody… Is this one about to end in a draw?
A groan. Razor’s arm flinches. Latoya shifts, her legs kicking once, weakly.
SEVEN
Razor rolls to his side. Latoya’s eyes flutter shut.
EIGHT
Razor plants a hand. His legs shake. He rises like a phoenix half-consumed in flames.
NINE
RAZOR BLADE STANDS.
Latoya lifts her head... and falls back down. Arms limp. Chest heaving, but out cold.
TEN
DING DING DING!
WINNER: RAZOR BLADE
JC: HE DID IT! RAZOR BLADE DID IT! HE WON! MY GOD, HE WON!!
BG: By killin’ himself! That ain’t wrestling, Jacuinde—that’s madness. That boy’s gonna feel this match for the rest of his life. But... hot damn, that was somethin’.
Razor collapses flat onto his back… exhausted beyond comprehension. The official raises his limp arm, and the crowd around the ramp explodes in cheers and stunned awe.
JC: Up next we have the XWF Television Championship match with Champion Lucy Wylde taking on Solomon Kline. What are we thinking about this one, Brody?
BG: Well, the last time these two athletes came to blows, it was Crimson Kline’s son coming oh-so-close to the victory, but falling just short. Now we have the new-and-improved Solomon Kline, ready to take that next step into XWF championship gold.
JC: We’re going to see right here, right now, if Kline has made the jump to surefire superstardom or if the wily ring veteran Lucy Wylde still has a few tricks up her sleeve.
BG: She can fly around the ring with an agility like no one else, that’s for sure.
JC: She’s going to need, like she did in their previous contest, to really push the pace and keep the big second-generation wrestler off balance.
BG: And if anyone can do it, it’s Lucy. But the problem is that Kline has got to be coming into this match expecting just that. It will be interesting to see if Lucy pivots in the early going, or if she challenges Solomon to come up with an answer before changing strats.
JC: It’s going to be a great one, no doubt about it. Another chapter of XWF lore gets written here in just a few moments. Let’s take you ringside where the action is about to begin!
"Dethrone" by Bad Omens plays throughout the arena. The lights go out. Once the beat drops, a spotlight shines on the entryway, where Solomon Kline appears inside the light, clad in a black hoodie over his ring gear and kneeling on his right knee. As the lyrics come in, he stands, removes his hood and surveys the crowd as sparks rain down around him. He grooves his way toward the ring, and high fives fans along the way. He circles the ring and slides under the bottom rope. He continues rocking out to the song and goes to the turnbuckle to let out a primal scream, singing along to the lyric, "Here am I, take me to the pearly gates, so I can look you in the eye when I spit in your face!"
JC: Solomon Kline, the challenger, is looking poised and ready, Brody!
BG: Is that new entrance music?
JC: You know, if it is, I’m digging it. As the kids say, it kinda ‘slaps’.
BG: The only thing Kline needs to be worried about is slapping Lucy upside her blonde head!
JC: Sure, Brody. Let’s go with that.
Solomon returns to the ring and readies himself 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!!!!!
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.
BG: And once more we have the reigning, and what she still hopes will be the defending Television Champion herself. Professional Wrestling Royalty in her own right. The one and only Lucy Wylde!
JC: Remember a few weeks ago when this belt was being passed around like breadsticks at Olive Garden? Lucy has really settled the division down a bit with key defenses against Jake Borden and Larry Tact. She’s one of our longest reigning champs right now!
BG: Kudos where kudos are due, Jackie. But while I think Lucy is just hitting her stride here, she’s got youth, hunger, and talent of his own standing across from her. She can’t take Kline lightly.
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.
JC: No doubt about it. But if anyone knows that, it’s Lucy Wylde. If Kline 2.0 wants it, he’s going to have to earn it the hard way.
BG: Hey, Solomon de-Klined his Dad’s mantle, so you better cut the 2.0 shit out right now.
JC: My bad, my bad.
Solomon and Lucy meet at the center of the ring for the referee to hold the Television title up to the crowd. The two of them have an intense staredown before making their way back to their respective corners for the opening bell.
After the opening bell Wylde goes right at Kline with a running dropkick that Kline swipes out of the way! Kline goes to pull her up but Wylde immediately fights back with forearms and elbows to the ribs, but Solomon counters with a clubbing elbow to the back of the head followed by a knee lift catching Lucy under the chin. She staggers back into the corner dazed.
JC: Lucy did change her strategy from last time. But she also came right at him and paid the price. Do you think Kline got into her head a little?
BG: No, it’s just smart to be a little unpredictable. Especially when you’re giving up so much on the tale of the tape.
Kline splashes Lucy out of the corner, scoops her up and hits her with a running powerslam. Quick lateral press by Kline gets a no-count from the referee, as Lucy slides her shoulder up with no delay. Kline, pressing his advantage, pulls Lucy back to her feet and delivers big hands backing her up to the ropes. He attempts an irish whip, and Lucy tries to counter with an irish whip of her own, but Kline does not move an inch. Instead he irish whips her so hard she goes tumbling over the near ropes and out to the ringside floor.
BG: An added wrinkle to this match, Kline has the 15 minute time limit to contend with as well.
JC: I don’t take Lucy as the type who wants to retain by time-limit draw.
BG: Regardless of whether she wants to or not, it is the Television Champion’s advantage.
JC: That’s fair. So I guess that means Lucy can expect Kline to push the pace a bit as well?
Lucy pulls herself back up to the ring apron, only for Kline to hit her with a dropkick of his own that sends her flying back first into the barricade! The crowd reacts as Lucy clutches her back in pain. The referee starts the count, but Kline is already out of the ring, taking Lucy by the back of the head, and trying to get her back in. She blocks Kline by putting her foot up on the ring apron, and then catches him with a skyward crescent kick that staggers him a bit.
JC: Lucy really showing her guts by fighting back here!
BG: And she’s keeping the match outside of the ring… which is another thing the youngest Tribe Member has to contend with!
Lucy slides herself into the ring and back out, to break up the count? That’s a bit confusing, but only if you don’t know Lucy. She throws some forearm shots and a kick to Kline’s gut before shoving him back into the ring herself. Once in, Lucy climbs to the top rope. She dives for a meteora! But Kline catches her in the powerbomb position! Lucy fires away at Kline’s forehead, staggering him, until he carries her by the ropes. She takes him to the outside with a headscissors counter! Kline hits the mat hard, but Lucy holds onto the top rope, and pulls herself back up and into the ring.
JC: Solomon just hit that ringside mat a ton! I didn’t just hear that thud, I felt it under my shoes!
BG: He did hit hard. But he’s a young man. His bump card is practically untouched compared to Lucy’s. He’ll be back up before you know it.
JC: He’s back up!
BG: Did you know it?
JC: …
BG: I told you so!
Wylde tunes up the band a bit before gaining momentum with the ropes. She charges full steam and leaps over them with the Meteor Strike! (Corkscrew Tiger Drop!) Kline half catches her, half loses his balance and the result is he hits the barricade pretty hard almost in the same exact spot that Lucy hit it earlier in the match. Lucy is back up to the cheers of the audience. She catches Kline with a knifeedge chop!
Woo!
12:00
11:59
11:58
JC: That clock is ticking, Brody. But Lucy’s strategy is to stay in control.
BG: She could have wasted a few more seconds in the ring there, Jackie. That may come back to bite her.
She slides Kline back into the ring and hooks the leg for the cover-
One!
Solomon shoves her right back up to her feet!
JC: Oh wow, Kline isn’t playing.
BG: I think the kid got even stronger since the last time we’ve seen him.
Wylde comes forward with a Mindblow (handspring flipping heel kick), but Kline steps into it, grabs her around the waist, and launches her three-quarters across the ring with a massive release german suplex! He quickly scrambles over to make the cover-
Kline presses Lucy’s shoulders to the mat-
One!
Two!
Lucy wisely reaches out and grabs the nearby bottom rope.
JC: Big two count there! But he may have thrown her a bit too far Brody?
BG: No such thing as too far, as distance means power and the body has to eat all of that when it lands. He could have dragged her out, but I don’t think anyone thinks that german was a true killshot. He probably covered her for the energy expulsion.
JC: Good point. But Wylde, to her credit, kept that to a minimum.
BG: Gotta think that when Aidan Collins watches this match back with Kline on replay that this is something he’ll coach the kid up on. Gotta lock that arm to her side as well there.
Kline stays on the offensive, pulling Lucy up, though she is able to drive her knee into the solar plexus of her challenger to gather some space and some breathing time. She takes to the ropes again, speeding things up. Kline swings wildly (no pun intended) with a clothesline and when Lucy comes back, she handsprings up and hits the Mindblow true this time! Kline staggered, Lucy hits the ropes again, but this time Kline comes charging forward and nearly cuts her in half with a massive spear!
BG: SPEAR!
JC: By GOD, the mass difference made that look like Lucy was hit by a runaway truck!
One!
Two!
Wylde kicks out just in the knick of time!
8:00
7:59
7:58
JC: Damn, I really thought he might have had her there.
BG: He’s gotta watch the clock, Jackie. Every kickout, it’s ticking!
Kline takes a moment to look up at the clock, noticing that we are down past halfway already before quickly turning his attention back to Wylde. He pulls her up despite her spaghetti legs, and pops her up into the air. Ashes to Ashes?! NO! Wylde with a knee to the side of the head, counters and lands on her feet. Kline staggers back and Wylde attempts the Wylde Liberation! (RKO) NO! Kline blocks it! But Wylde takes a mere half step forward and catches Kline with the Fury Brand! (Corkscrew Pele!) It connects! Cover!
One!
Two!
Kline powers out at two and a half!
JC: Ooh, that one was close!
BG: Heart of a champion right there. Wylde is making Kline earn it if he wants to come out of this one on top. But Kline is matching Lucy’s determination, that much is for sure.
Lucy moves to the ropes yet again, but this time Kline is up fast enough to drunkenly stumble over towards the ropes and fall onto the top rope. Lucy sees this and she’s forced to abandon her plan and jumps over Kline to land on her feet on the mat behind him. When she turns she is caught by a back elbow from Solomon. With Lucy staggered, Kline turns and takes her by the neck and drops her with a massive chokeslam! He hooks the leg for the cover!
One!
Two!
Thr-No! Wylde somehow kicks out!
BG: Another near fall for Solomon Kline!
JC: It has got to be frustrating. The referee’s hand was so close to the mat that Solomon could almost taste his biggest victory in XWF to date.
BG: He’s still got time though, I suggest he stays on her!
Kline waits for Lucy to push herself up to her feet. She turns and Kline goozles her by the neck a second time! He lifts her up! Chokeslam… no! Wylde spins out and lands on her feet. She immediately pops back and attempts another Fury Brand! But Kline ducks and Lucy lands hard! Kline pulls Lucy back up, pops her high up into the air, and DRILLS her with the ASHES TO ASHES FOREARM!
BG: We’ve got a new champion Jack!
JC: It’s ALL OVER!
Wylde crashes down to the mat and Kline falls on top of her for the cover-
One!
Two!
Thr-NO!
Lucy Wylde kicks out just before the damning third slap of the mat!
JC: Oh my god, she kicked out! She kicked out Brody!
BG: Lucy ain’t going down without a fight! And look at that timer, Jackie!
3:00
2:59
2:58
Both competitors now being told about the three minute warning, this kicks Kline into high gear. He yanks Lucy into a standing headscissors and calls for the end, before flipping her up onto his shoulders!
BG: He’s going for the Crimson Dawn!
JC: Lucy is trying to fight back! Can she though?
Kline goozles her with both hands but Lucy rains down on him with elbows straight down onto his forehead! One after another after another… it seems to weaken Kline’s grip! He goes to drive her down, but she flips backward and lands a hurricanrana into a tight pin!
She’s got Kline folded up under her with his legs hooked tight under her shoulders!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NOO!!!
KLINE ROLLS LUCY OVER-REVERSING THE PIN!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NOO!!!
Lucy Wylde breaks her grip and slips her shoulder up!
JC: Oh my god, Brody! This is unbelievable!
BG: This is definitely taking Lucy/Kline 1 to the next level.
JC: You mean it surpassed their first meeting?
BG: Yeah, that too.
2:00
1:59
1:58
Two minute warning! Both superstars are back to their feet, and now they’ve just decided that they’re going to trade blows! The crowd follows along with both of them as Kline exchanges closed fists for each of Lucy Wylde’s forearm shivs. Kline knows he has the advantage when he winds back and tries to drill Wylde with the haymaker, which she ducks and attempts the Wylde Liberation yet again! But Kline was expecting it, and drills her with a german suplex with a bridge!
ONE!
TWO!
SOMEHOW WYLDE KICKS OUT!
JC: Beautiful counter, but Kline is running out of time, here!
But Kline keeps his hold on the german suplex. He pulls rolls his hips and pulls her back up to her feet. Wylde blocks the second german by grabbing onto the ropes. She swings backward with a spinning backfist, but Kline ducks. He tucks his head under her arm and bridges over with a Northern Lights suplex! NO! Wylde flips and lands on her feet!
Kline sits himself up having no clue where Lucy Wylde is when she comes charging from behind with a buzzsaw knee that catches Kline right in the back of the head!
JC: What the hell was that?!
BG: It was a knockout shot is what it was!
1:00
0:59
0:58
Wylde takes a few steps backward, lining herself up in the corner! She’s waiting for Kline to get back to all fours…
JC: Is she going for it?!
BG: This may be her signature punt kick finisher! Keep your chin DOWN Solomon!
He looks over to see Lucy charging at him and her boot comes right under his chin! KEEP YOUR CHIN UP!!!
Wylde falls down on top of him for the cover-
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
DING DING DING
0:27
STOP
0:27
WINNER AND STILL XWF TELEVISION CHAMPION: LUCY WYLDE
JC: My god! It came down to the wire, but Wylde managed to yet again secure another defense of the Television Title, with less than a half-minute left on the clock!
BG: It was interesting to see these two go at it again with the clock as a factor, and for what it's worth, it made it a better contest. Maybe tonight wasn’t Klines night, but once more he’s proven he’s just a step or two away from being that champion he wants to be.
JC: True but tonight, Lucy Wylde is that champion. And she’s stringing these together and really making a name for herself. You know they say anyone who can steady the Television Division can make it at the top of the mountain, too.
BG: It seems that way. And it’s not too absurd to think that Lucy Wylde may one day be an XWF Universal Champion.
JC: Not at all. For right now though, she gets to savor this victory. And for Kline, perhaps some more training with Aidan Collins is in order. Because his next step forward might be that one he’s been searching for.
BG: Sooner rather than later, Jackie. No shame at all to be had in that ring tonight!
JC: Up next, we have a battle of revolutions colliding here on Warfare, as the enigmatic Schism takes on the former Revolution champion, Matthias Syn
BG: Syn’s someone we ain’t seen a good while, Jackie. And I don’t really lump him in with these dirtbags like Dolly, and Flynn and Shitsum here. Syn’s a man who understands the price. He’s been kicked around by systems long enough to know better.
JC: I’m not sure he’d say that about himself, Brody. Very rarely have we ever seen Mathias Syn kicked around by anyone or anything. The longest reigning Revolution champ returns to action here tonight!
The opening riff of The hangman's body count by Volbeat starts to play throughout the arena as the lights dim. Several red and purple laser lights envelope the stage as Matthias Syn casually walks through the curtain.
BG: Look at that man there, Jackie. That’s a man who’s taken a while and collected his thoughts. That about what it means to him, to be a dominant, ass kicking machine here in the XWF. Don’t even think of mentioning ring rust, this is a man who looks even more impressive then he did when he was cracking skulls left and right months ago.
As he steps onto the stage, he stops and acknowledges the crowd by stretching both arms forward while touching his balled up fists together. After several seconds he begins to nonchalantly walk down the ramp towards the ring, not allowing the fans to touch him. He slides under the bottom rope, jumps to his feet and poses on the ropes. As he drops down from the ropes he takes off his red leather shearling coat, hands it to the ring girl and sits on the middle turnbuckle awaiting his opponent.
The crowd erupts when Big Rock Candy Mountain fills the air.
Schism butts a cigarette out on the floor and rises from a seat in the audience nose-bleeds.
JC: Wait! Has Schism been up there this whole time?
BG: Who knows? How would you know? Nobody knows or cares about who Schism is.
JC: Do you hear this arena chanting his name?!
BG: No.
It’s deafening
SCHISM! SCHISM! SCHISM!
JC: This is one of the few people to ever pin Sebastian Evertte-Bryce in the XWF, Brody. People know who he is.
BG: He’’s an acid junkie, bommer communist. His revolution died decades ago WHEN WE ALL GOT JOBS! These are the people teaching your children in school, Jackie! He’s scum!
JC: Say what you will, but we know he’s a dangerous man. Just like his opponent. And we’re in store for what I think is going to be a real fight.
Schism makes a nonchalant descent through the stadium, fans all throughout jostling him with excitement, grabbing his shoulders, patting him on the back. He makes it to the bottom, and over the guardrail and under the bottom rope into the ring.
Schism
- vs -
Matthias Syn Singles
Syn and Schism immediately begin circling the ring as soon as the bell rings. Syn stands proud as he circles; clearly viewing himself as a tier above his competitor. Schism, on the other hand, crouches low to the ground as he eyes his opponent up and down, looking for any opportunity to gain an upper hand.
The pair lock-up just a few seconds after the bell rings. The bigger man immediately gets the advantage! Syn quickly transitions into a side headlock and wdeep. Schism winces but pushes them both to the ropes, shooting Syn off. Syn rebounds off the ropes with a shoulder block! Schism stumbles back a step. Syn hits the ropes again. Leapfrog by Schism! The next time Syn hits the ropes, Schism drops down! Syn hops over him, rebounding off the ropes once again until Schism snatches him mid-sprint with a scoop slam! Schism holds him down for a quick cover!
1!
Kickout!
[white]BG: Schism is getting ahead of himself, going for a pin after putting in barely any work! But that’s what you get when you bring a revolutionary in to do a man’s job!
JC: Schism was just trying to get the quick pinfall: no harm, no foul!
BG: He should know better than to even ATTEMPT a pin on Matthias Syn after that limp-wristed offense!
Syn rolls up to his feet, and Schism rushes right back towards him...right into an arm drag from Syn! Schism pops up and charges once more, charging right into a hip toss from Syn! Schism charges again, and now Syn grabs him for a deep arm drag that he turns into an armbar!
BG: There we go, Matthias! That’s what I’m talking about! Make that communist punk squirm!
JC: Brody, we are supposed to be calling this match down the middle!
BG: I am calling it down the middle! Because in the middle of that ring, Schism is getting his ass kicked!
Schism yells out in frustration, thrashing, feeling the pain in his arm as Syn locks in the hold. Schism scrambles, finds a foothold on the mat, and rolls Syn into a pin attempt mid-submission!
1!
2!!
Syn releases the arm and kicks out!
JC: Quick thinking from Schism there! He turned the submission hold against him, into a pin attempt for him! Genius move!
BG: Bah, I don’t even think he meant to do that! That armbar just hurt so dang bad the commie had no choice but to thrash around randomly!
They both rise, locking eyes again as the crowd noise grows into a deafening roar. Both wrestlers remain completely still in the center of the ring, not moving an inch, but just measuring each other up for the next engagement.
JC: This match has been back-and-forth so far, with no one getting the clear upperhand! This is still anyone’s game!
BG: Are you joking?! Are we even watching the same match?! Matthias Syn is dominating that little punk right now!
Syn smiles at Schism, saying some crude words with a wink.
That's when Schism snaps.
He dives forward with a shoulder tackle, driving Syn to the mat. Schism quickly mounts him before he throws wild fists. Lefts, rights, elbows, the whole shebang! Schism drags Syn up and throws him into the corner...where he delivers a running elbow to the jaw! Then Schism follows up with a quick snapmare out of the corner!
JC: What were you saying, Brody?
Syn lays flat on the mat, clutching his lower back as he winces in pain!
BG: I’m saying that Syn’s got this in the bag! Don’t be a prisoner of the moment, this match is still his to lose!
Schism takes the opportunity to climb up to the top rope. Schism looks out to the crowd, grinning as he sees the widespread support of the Revolution. Then, Schism leaves the ropes and dives towards Syn with a flying elbow!
IT CONNECTS!
Schism goes for the cover!
1!
2!!
Kickout!!!
BG: C’mon, Matthias! Get back to your feet and show this little anarchist a thing or two about a thing or two!
JC: Schism seems to be taking control of this match, Brody!
BG: No way! Matthias has him right where he wants him!
Schism wastes no time in taking full advantage of this opportunity. While the referee is looking away, he rakes the eyes, blatant and ugly! Syn thrashes around the ring blindly. Schism grabs the neck, squeezing the choke tightly! He drags Syn up with one hand, then lifts him into a REVERSE DDT that plants Syn in the mat!
But Schism doesn’t go for the pin. He simply crouches, waiting in the wings with a sick smile on his face as Matthias Syn tries to rise. As soon as Syn gets to his feet, Schism unleashes a flurry of kicks!
One kick!
Two kick!
Red kick!
Blue kick!
Each one thudding, each one harder than the last! Schism breathes heavy, like a rabid dog on the hunt. He grabs Syn by the hair and SCREAMS in his face before kneeing him right in the bridge of the nose! Blood goes flying everywhere as Syn’s body falls flat to the mat!
Schism unleashes a beastial roar as Syn crawls towards the ropes!
JC: Schism is putting on a show here tonight! He’s had a completely dominant performance, he’s showing everyone that The Revolution is at the gates- and they can’t be stopped!
BG: Damn it, Matthias! Get it together and start beating the hell out of that little prick!
Syn grabs the middle rope and uses it to pull himself up. Slowly, bit by bit. His mouth is dripping red, but his eyes shine with cold clarity. His smug smile is gone. Now, it’s just bloodied teeth curled into a snarl!
Schism charges forward…
BOOM!
Right into a snap powerslam by Syn out of nowhere! The momentum shifts with a sick thud, and Syn explodes to his feet with a beastial roar of his own, yanking Schism up by the arm and whipping him into the corner!
Syn charges into the corner with a running forearm smash! Schism reels right into a EUROPEAN UPPERCUT! And then another! Syn grabs his opponent’s head, dragging him out of the corner for a running bulldog!
BG: YES! That’s what I’m talking about! Schism is finally getting what he deserves!
Schism bounces off the mat!
JC: You’re about as fair and impartial as fox news, Brody!
BG: Exactly!
Syn doesn’t stop his assault. He viciously stomps out Schism until he’s content with the damage done. Then, he climbs to the top rope, taunting the crowd with a spit of blood from his mouth. Then he leaps into the air and flies down with a diving crossbody!
Matthias hooks the leg!
1!
2!!
Kickout!
BG: DAMN IT! He almost had him!
JC: Somehow, someway, Schism kicked out! That revolutionary still has some fight left in him!
Syn yanks Schism up into a fisherman suplex! He rolls through into a second fisherman suplex! Then Matthias lifts Schism into the air for a brainbuster variation! A combo of punishment! Schism’s eyes roll back, and Syn snarls as he hooks both legs again!
1!
2!!
Kickout!
The crowd rises to their feet as the match begins to hit it’s climax!
JC: What more does Matthias Syn need to do to put Schism away for good?!
BG: I don’t know, and if I knew, I’d certainly tell him! I think this Schism needs to be tested for PEDs, because he’s kicking out of stuff he has no business kicking out of!
Syn drags Schism to his knees before he hits the ropes….delivering a brutal Shining Wizard! Full contact to head! Syn doesn’t even go for the pin, he simply grabs both of Schism’s wrists and STOMPS his face into the mat! Not once, but twice! Schism’s nose bursts red now!
Blood squirts all over the mat!
Syn flips him over for a double knee backbreaker! Schism screams!
JC: Ok, I think Matthias has proven his point!
BG: Not yet he hasn’t! He still has more pain to dish out, believe it! That commie prick deserves every ounce of this punishment he’s getting!
Syn mounts him now, lashing out with short elbows that are fast and targeted. To the temple. To the jaw. To the eye. Each is delivered to Schism with a surgeon’s brutality.
He yanks Schism’s arm, pulling him into the Pentagram Choke! The crowd roars as Schism kicks and claws, his feet finding nothing but canvas! The ref watches closely, but Schism, with sheer panic, manages to writhe sideways….his foot lands on the ropes!
The break is called!
Syn holds to four-and-a-half. Then lets go.
BG: Damn it! This is why I hate referees! They’re always getting in the way of everything!
JC: They have a job to do, and Schism got to the ropes!
BG: Who cares! He’s a commie! HANG EM’!
Syn rises slowly with his eyes burning full of rag, then he grabs Schism again, setting up for SYNTHESIS—but Schism drops flat, turning his body dead weight!
So Syn stomps him instead! The kicks are vicious and precise, filled with malicious intent. Then, Syn picks him up by the wrist and Irish whips him…Schism reverses! But then Syn reverses again!
Instead of letting Schism execute an irish whip, Syn delivers a brutal spinning elbow to the head that drops Schism to the mat!
But Schism kips right up! The crowd is losing it, going nuts as the two wrestlers go CRAZY inside the ring!
JC: These two are leaving it all inside the squared circle! They’re both giving it everything they have in this match!
Syn snarls and grabs the head of Schism, pulling him in quickly.
Syn sets up his finishing move again: SYNTHESIS!
Syn lifts, and Syn CONNECTS!
BG: SYNTHESIS! THIS MATCH IS OVER!
Schism looks like he’s out cold!
Matthias hooks the leg, and the referee makes the count!
1!
2!!
3—NO!!!
Kickout! Schism kicks out!
Syn sits up, breathing hard. His eyes go wide as he stares at Schism with a burning rage. Syn lifts himself back up to his feet, and begins waiting for Schism to stir….as soon as Schism starts to lift himself up, Syn comes running in with a PUNT TO THE FACE!
And then another cover!
1!
2!!
KICKOUT!!!!
BG: WHAT THE HELL IS IT GOING TO TAKE TO PUT SCHISM DOWN?!?!
JC: Honestly, Brody?! Schism is looking relentless tonight! I’m not sure one man alone can do the job!
BG: Wait a minute….who’s that coming down the ramps?!
Matthias Syn slams the mat in frustration, clearly frustrated by Schism’s endless tank. Syn wipes the grotesque mixture of sweat and blood off his face….and that’s when he sees them.
Two big fatasses, running down the ramp!
BIG PREEESH and BIG PUDDIN’!
Two giants! All power! No finesse!
They charge down the ramp, nearly tripping over their shoelaces as they sprint downhill at full speed!
JC: Those are Peter Principal’s goons! What are they doing here tonight?!
BG: I think you already know!
Syn sees them and chuckles to himself. He nods at them, knowing full well that he isn’t their target tonight!
PREEESH climbs the apron. PUDDIN’ gets up on the other side. The ref yells, but the big men don’t care. Big Preesh pulls a permission slip out of his pocket, and gives it to the referee.
The referee inspects the permission slip, and has no choice but to let the big men into the ring!
It’s the General Manager’s orders!
JC: What’s going on here?! This isn’t a no-DQ match! Why is the referee allowing those thugs into the ring?!
BG: It looks like they have a signed permission slip from Peter Principal himself! That means, they can do whatever they want inside that ring and it’s all legal, baby!
JC: They’re trying to rig this thing, mid-match!
Syn grabs Schism with a smirk on his face, and tries to get him to hold still as the big men step into the ring. BIG PREESH and BIG PUDDIN’ start talking trash at Schism, telling him all about the bad things they plan to do to him!
Syn holds Schism steady as Big Preesh readies himself for a charge….
JC: Damn it, this isn’t right! This isnt’ fair! Someone should do something!
BG: Sometimes, life ain’t fair! And Schism’s about to learn that fact the hard way!
Big Preesh charges forward with a lariat…..
BUT SCHISM DUCKS!
PREEESH LEVELS SYN WITH THE LARIAT!
Syn flips inside out!
PUDDIN’ yells, “YOU IDIOT!” and leaps into action….
But Schism LOW BRIDGES HIM, PULLING DOWN THE TOP ROPE JUST AS PUDDIN’ CHARGES AT HIM! PUDDIN’ goes flying over the top rope, collapsing to the floor!
Preesh looks around the ring in confusion for a few moments, before finally realizing he F’ed up! Then, Preesh tries to rectify his mistake by charging at Schism….just for him to eat another LOW BRIDGE OVER THE TOP ROPE!
Both big men are laying atop each other outside the ring!
JC: Well…that didn’t go according to plan!
BG: Damn it, Peter needs to hire some better help! Those idiots just attacked Matthias Syn, and then flung themselves over the top rope!
JC: You get what you pay for, Brody! And I’m not sure that Peter is even paying those thugs!
BG: Peter should’ve hired the real THUGZ for this job!
JC: Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve! All that matters, is that Schism outwitted them all, and now he has Matthias Syn right where he wants him!
Schism turns and finds Matthias Syn crawling towards the ropes…but Schism doesn’t let him!
ABOLITION! Rear naked choke!
Syn thrashes wildly as Schism drags him to the center of the ring. Syn’s eyes go wide as Schism locks the choke in tight. Synn claws and fights with all he has…until he finally runs out of breath.
Matthias Syn slowly fades as Schism keeps the chokehold locked in!
The ref checks on Matthias, lifting his arm up into the air….
Where it falls down, not once, not twice, but three times in a row!
The match is over! The referee calls for the bell!
WINNER - SCHISM
Schism releases the choke and collapses back as the referee tries to raise his hand. Big Preesh and Big Puddin’ rise to their feet, looking at each other as they shrug their shoulders.
They share a collective “…oops.” with each other as Schism sits up slowly inside the ring, his eyes bloodshot and hollow. Schism starts laughing hysterically as he points his finger at the two goons, who just cost Matthias Syn the match!
BG: DAMN IT! Those buffoons just cost Matthias Syn this match! He had it in the bag until those idiots got involved!
JC: Are you joking, Brody?! Schism looked unstoppable tonight! Not only did he take on Matthias Syn, he took on Peter Principal’s goons! This was a huge win for the revolution, and a major setback not just for Matthias Syn, but for The Corporation itself!
Following the match a low rumble ripples through the crowd.
Suddenly, Schism goes down!
There, standing behind him, with a steel chair in hand, is the King of the XWF! King Kieran!
BG: MY LIEEEEGE!
JC: What the hell? This is three shows in a row that our supposed ‘king’ has shown up just to lay someone out after a match. Aurora, James Shark, Justin York, and now [WINNER] too.
BG: People wanted the king to take more of an interest in the day-to-day affairs of the kingdom. Maybe they should have SHUT THEIR UNWORTHY MOUTHS.
After a hard fought match and a dastardly cheap shot, Schism struggles to his hands and knees.
WHAM! The King rails on Schism with another chair shot to the back.
And another - WHAM!
Another!
Another!
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!
JC: King Kieran is absolutely unloading on Schism !
BG: This is what the people wanted, Jacuinde! This is The King passing judgement on his kingdom!
From the corner of his eye, King spies Syn rising to his feet outside the ring. Chair still in hand, he sprints to the opposite ropes, rebounds back, and SUICIDE DIVES THE CHAIR RIGHT INTO SYN’S FACE!
JC: Oh come on!
Incensed by whatever gripe has crawled into his mind (and without the effects of a prior battle), King shrugs his own pain off and takes the chair in hand once more.
Syn’s head is laying against the ringside barricade and King lays the chair in front of it. Stepping all the way back - as far as he can - he then darts forward and drives an explosive low dropkick into the chair which slams into Syn’s head and drives it against the barricade. Triple impact!
In the ring, Schism is trying to move as officials check on him.
But King slides back in and pushes through them.
He nabs Schism and… F Ur Head!
And a second time for good measure!
Schism is down in the ring!
Syn is down out of it!
And King Kieran slides out to the announce desk, snatching a microphone and standing on the desk in front of Jacuinde and Brody - the latter of whom is actively bowing and praising His Highness.
King spits to the side and looks at the bodies he's left laying for a third show in a row.
KING: In case you didn't get the message when I told you all I wasn't happy with what was going on in MY KINGDOM, maybe now you’ll get the message. And it’s not just Charlie Nickles or whomever is the Universal Champion come Relentless… it's not just the Black Rainbow…
EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU IS ON NOTICE
ONE KING!
ZERO REVOLUTIONS!
Long live the KING.
The camera cuts to a break on The King’s seething face.
JC: Folks, this next match is… frankly, a dream come true for wrestling fans. Two LEGENDS of the industry that fans have fantasy-booked opposing each other for DECADES finally cross paths in an actual ring!
BG: Jacko, these two combined have more championship gold than all the pawn shops in Minneapolis combined, and they got more accomplishments than the Vikings WILL EVER HAVE!
JC: Somewhat cruel to the fans of local sports in the Target Center, Brody! But these men are highly decorated athletes, with all the success this industry can offer under their belts! At this point, it’s just about pushing themselves! About the love of the game! And each of these men is about to face one of the stiffest challenges in the history of this sport: each other!
"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! TPW Hall of Famer! Multiple time World Champion!
BG: And add to that resume recent XWF Television champ AND XWF Star of the Month!
JC: The accolades don’t stop rolling in for Larry Tact! You’d think a man with multiple decades in the business would hit a peak, but somehow, week-to-week since debuting in the XWF, he’s only gotten better and better! The wins have only gotten higher and higher profile for the Tactilizing One!
BG: But brother, if he scores a victory tonight! Over a true-blue XWF LEGEND! At this point, start carving out the wing in the XWF Hall of Legends for Larry too!
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 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:
AIDAN COLLINS
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!
JC: I still can’t believe he’s back! AIDAN COLLINS! BLIZZARD! A certified XWF Legend! Former Universal champion!
BG: Truly one of the greatest to ever lace boots in an XWF ring, Jackie! And it doesn’t seem like he’s missed a step! Alongside his protégé, Solomon Kline, ol’ Blizz made quick work out of a surprisingly game team in Jake Borden and Frances Marigold last Warfare!
JC: But the only reward in victory is a tougher opponent next week! And what a LEAP in difficulty! I cannot imagine a man on a greater rise right now in the company than Larry Tact!
BG: But if anyone’s up to the challenge, Jack? Ya gotta imagine it’s King Infinity hisself!
Aidan Collins–wearing navy blue trunks and boots adorned with his Infinity Crown logo in gold–takes a second to pose towards the camera before he winks and walks down towards the ring. As he walks, he high fives the crowd and vocalizes outwardly that he’s about to put on a hell of a show for the audience.
Aidan 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.z
Before the match even starts, the crowd is applauding… The arena palpably vibrating with jubilation!
JC: The vibes are absolutely ELECTRIC for this match!
BG: Damn right, Jack. I think every kid that ever owned a Blizz action figure and a Tact action figure jammed them against each other, wishing it’d come to life on their TV. For a wrestling fan, this match is like gol’ darn Santa Claus showing up to your home with a Playstation SEVEN to make up for all the Christmases you got underwear!
Aidan ‘Blizzard’ Collins
- vs -
Larry Tact Singles
Larry Tact circles out from his corner, shoulders loose, but his face taut with quiet focus. His eyes narrow slightly as he raises his hands, inviting the classic collar-and-elbow.
JC: Tact opening this match very methodically. Eyes like a hawk, dialing in… Clearly wanting to feel the rhythm of this dance before committing to any steps.
BG: But he’s dealing with the ultimate challenge, Jackie! Attempting to control King Infinity!
As Larry approaches, Blizz’s his lips curl into a charismatic smirk. He doesn’t simply walk into the lock-up—he flourishes into it, twirling a shoulder, snapping into contact with a quick slap of palms and forearms.
BG: Blizz is such a showman, he makes a collar-and-elbow into a presentation!
Tact’s eyes twitch—he doesn’t like the showboating, but he keeps steady footing as the two men tie up, circling each other for control…
Tact shifts his hips low, the ring general trying to exert leverage to take Blizz off his feet and into his grappling control. Larry’s arms twist in a practiced dance, before latching Collins forward and drawing Blizz into a wristlock!
JC: Oh my! First moment of control here goes to Tact!
Blizz pats his pec, trying to push against Tact’s lock… but the Tactilizing One’s grip tightens with surgical precision. He cranks slowly, deliberately, pulling Aidan down toward a kneel!
JC: Absolutely masterful technical wrestling out of the gate by Tact! This is like watching an artist deliver his first stroke onto a fresh canvas!
BG: Look for this all match long, Jacko! Tact is a ring GENERAL! He’s gonna try to keep this match at a snail’s pace, try to limit Blizz’s ability to turn this into a light-speed battle of strikes and openings! Tact knows exactly where his wheelhouse is and he wants to keep Blizz locked up there!
Aidan winces, lips drawing into a grimace—but his brow arches in recognition… He gets a look on his face, like he’s trying to remember the last time he saw a wristlock.
The crowd claps and woops, as Blizz scratches his head, as if puzzling how to escape this one!
JC: Blizz is the consummate showman! Clearly setting these fans expectations up for something visually spectacular!
BG: He’s goofin’ around, Jack! You think you can break outta Tact’s lock? Just try!
Tact twists, to apply additional pressure to the wristlock!
…But from his knees, Collins spins his own body under and out, rolling through, kipping to his feet, and reversing the pressure with a quick wrist twist of his own!
JC: …I think I blinked and missed it! Collins just flipped the script and now Tact is in the wrist hold!
The crowd applauds the rapid sequence, as Blizz snaps his head up and giving the crowd a wink.
JC: That’s the experience and the style! Collins isn’t just wrestling—he’s playing jazz!
BG: He’s playin’ with fire. You don’t wink in the middle of a chain wrestlin’ match with a man like Larry Tact!
Tact’s jaw tightens, rigidly stoic. As Collins goes to apply pressure to his own wristlock, Tact yanks Collins forward closer! Before snapping his bicep around Collins’ skull! Side headlock, snug as a mousetrap!
JC: Tact is dedicated to his game and he’s uncompromising! No space, no time for flair!
Tact grinds his forearm against Collins’ temple and walks him to the center of the ring.
Collins grunts, annoyed. His smirk fades into a brief flash of tension in his cheeks! He plants his hands at Tact’s back and drags his center of gravity downward by lowering his hips, before trying to force his way backward toward the ropes.
Tact senses the direction change and tries to shift his hips, aiming to toss Blizz to the mat…
But, instead, suddenly, Collins surges forward and shoves with all he’s got, whipping Tact toward the ropes.
Tact’s feet hit the mat mechanically, before rebounding back off the ropes!
Collins leapfrogs up and over!
Tact ducks through, hitting the other ropes, looking to drive himself forward with a shoulder block…
But! As he spins ‘round, Tact’s chest meets Collins’ DROPKICK!
JC: Wow! Beautiful technique! Blizz hasn’t lost one step!
Tact hits the mat, back-first. His face screws, more in frustration than pain. He slaps the canvas and rolls to a seated position, adjusting his neck.
JC: Collins has found a way to take control of this match’s steering wheel, dictating the tempo of this match! He’s not just countering Tact’s chain wrestling efforts—he’s performing at speed!”
BG: Tact’s playin’ chess while Aidan’s flippin’ the board, burnin’ it, and doin’ a moonsault on top of it!
Tact draws a thumb across his jaw, mutters to himself, lips unmoving but teeth clenched.
He stands and paces tighter, closer… Shooting for a tie-up again!
Collins raises his dukes to oblige… but Tact fakes it into a quick go-behind waistlock!
JC: Deceptively quick footwork on display from the Tactilizing One!
Collins’ eyebrows raise, surprised by Tact’s momentary quickness, but Blizz’s adjustments come quickly as well… He spreads his base, dips low, and immediately tries to escape with a standing switch, taking Tact’s back…
But Tact’s grip is too tight, keeping Collins right where he wants him! Instead, mechanically and methodically Larry hoists up and off his feet!
GUTWRENCH SUPLEX!
JC: Wow! The sheer power of Larry Tact!
Collins’ back whips against the mat, but Tact doesn’t give Collins a moment to take a breath! Larry transitions from a mount, hooking the arm, before taking up a grounded side headlock… Driving his forearm across the bridge of Collins’ nose for good measure!
BG: You could snap pictures of that for a wrestling textbook is how immaculate that sequence of moves was! Phenomenal wrestling by Tact!
Collins squimrs, clearly annoyed that he’s been manhandled… His eyes darting for a rope, a roll, a reversal. Tact clinches tighter, trying to drive Collins’ vertebrae to grind unnaturally against itself!
In a flash, Collins goes for his reversal, plants a boot and bridges up, trying to slip out!
…No! Tact flattens back down like a vice, planting Blizz chest-first back against the mat!
BG: Larry Tact. Ring GENERAL! That’s what all them years of mastery look like.
JC: But Aidan’s not going to stay grounded for long, Brody. A General may command men, but he can’t contain a Blizzard!
Collins’ face contorts from annoyance to frustration… Tact exhales through his nose as he flattens Collins to the mat, still keeping his weight expertly distributed.
Collins tries to bring his free hand under Tact’s chin to shove a palm against Larry’s throat… But, Larry, slowly, agonizingly, transitions from mount to a tight side headlock, dragging Aidan’s temple against his ribs like a vise, compressing his lungs!
BG: That’s it, Lar. Squeeze the wind outta him. You don’t try to sprint with a racehorse—you tie its legs together!
JC: Tact has done everything in his power to stall that blistering, break-neck match pace that Aidan Collins thrives in!
Aidan Collins winces, his arms pressing against Larry’s biceps, trying to create breathing room.
He flutters his boots against the mat—not in panic, but calculating. As Tact regrips and shifts into a sleeper hold, Aidan’s mouth opens slightly, his face turning red under the pressure.
JC: This is bad news for Blizzard! Larry Tact is like a python right now!
Tact’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenched tight.
And that’s when Aidan’s face twists—not in agony, but in that stubborn defiant expression the XWF’s longtime faithful knows so well.
JC: Ohhh! I think Blizz is cooking something up!
Tact’s face grits, frustrated that Collins is still determined to fight, cranking that bicep tight trying to close Tact’s windpipe!
But Suddenly, Collins plants his boots, then bridges upward, shifting his hips! He spins from the mat, hooking Larry’s arm mid-spin and tumbling them both into a scramble!
JC: What a counter! Not pretty, but Blizz’s freed himself from Tact’s labyrinthine grip!
With a split-second of freedom earned, Collins rolls backward, and springs to his feet—his eyes wild with adrenaline!
Tact scrambles to a vertical base, diving to lock in another life-sapping subm-
CRACK! A dropkick catches Tact in the chest!
Larry stumbles back against the ropes… He rebounds off…
SLAP! Collins delivers a knife-edge chop across Larry’s chest!
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
JC: Aidan Collins is banging on all cylinders here!
SMACK! A second chop!
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
A third!
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Then a blistering open-hand slap!
BG: C’mon, Tact! Shake it off! Get Tactilixing!
Collins loads his arm like a crossbow, looking for a knockout-caliber chop…
He swings!
…
But Tact ducks under the strike! He bowls through to the ropes, building up steam…
…Straight into a bicycle kick from Aidan Collins! Tact drops flat on his back, and the crowd explodes!
[white{JC: BICYCLE KICK! COLLINS caught him clean! Larry’s reeling!”
BG: That kick made such an impact it’s gonna rattle all the teeth as far away as Duluth! All three of ‘em!
JC: …Brody, what’s your problem with Minnesotans?[/white]
Collins pops up, windmilling his arms and circles the ring, feeding on the crowd’s electric energy. His eyes burn. He’s feeling it now. He points to the mat, then lifts Tact up with a spark in his step.
He hooks Larry’s arm, digging his skull under Tact’s shoulder…
JC: Collins looking for a threesome!
Collins heaves!
Northern Lights Suplex!
Collins bridges up, and brings Tact up with him…
A Second Northern Lights Suplex!
JC: The strength! The absolutely incredible physicality of Aidan Collins!
Aidan holds up three fingers, as he wrenches himself off Tact off the mat! The crowd woooooooos, screaming for the culmination of the 3-some!
Collins heaves…
…
But, Tact plants his boots, lowering his center of gravity to anchor himself down!
Collins, determined to give the crowd the third, tries to heave Tact up, bypassing his resistance!
…But Tact shoves off his back, somersaulting up and over and onto his feet!
JC: Holy COW! I didn’t know the hyper-technician Tact had that kind of dexterity in him!
Collins spins around, Tact goes for a decapitating…
ELBOW!
…
NO! Collins ducks under, running across the ring to build more speed off the ropes!
He rebounds…
…
Straight into a Larry Tact leaping knee!
The audience gasps! Collins stumbles backward, limbs loose, stunned on his feet.
JC: OH MY GOD! Larry Tact with the knee! Where did that come from?!
BG: This man’s got more tricks up his sleeve than a back-alley card shark! That was brutal!
Tact lands unsteadily, wiping sweat from his brow, his breath steady but heavy as the crowd screams…
On the mat, Collins rolls his jaw with a wince, before slowly nodding, working his way back up to his feet…
JC: Tact a little too slow to take advantage of the opening that knee created… This match is getting more and more intense with every sequence! Likea chess match on a landmine. Every piece could blow up at any second!
BG: These two old dogs showin’ they still got teeth. And ain’t neither of ‘em blinkin’.
Tact shoves himself off the ropes just as Collins gets off his knees… The two lunge simultaneously!
Tact aims a lariat!
…Collins ducks and runs through! He springs off the ropes, going for an Asai Moonsault…
…No! Tact slides forward to dodge the strike, letting Collins eat mat…
…BUT INSTEAD! Collins lands on his feet! He quickly latches onto Tact from behind, seeking a neckbreaker!
…NO! Tact twists and plants both hands on Collins’ back, shoving him toward the ropes!
…NO! Collins puts the brakes on, and spins, aiming to decapitate Tact with a…
BICYCLE KICK!
…
NO! Tact ducks underneath!
JC: Oh my God!
BG: These two have been in the game so long, they know every counter to every move!
As Collins’ foot sails by Tact, Tact sets his feet! Collins spins around as Tact latches an arm around Collins, looking for a…
HIP TOSS!
…Collins sails through the air…
…
Landing on his feet! The second he reconnects with mat, he drops, still latching Tact’s arm, looking for a…
SNAP ARMDRAG!
CONNECTS!
The crowd goes nuts!
JC: Holy cow! That was such an intricate sequence, Tact and Collins got the crowd to pop for an arm drag!
Tact rolls on his back, getting back to his knees!
Collins charges, looking to follow up with a running knee!
…No! Larry latches Collins around his shoulder, looking for a…
HUMBLING! (Uranage Suplex!)
…NO! Collins rolls over, Larry’s back, latching around his arms!
Backslide!
JC: The first pin of the match!
The official’s so mesmerized by the wrestling, it takes him a split-second to remember he’s doing a job, dropping to count…
ONE!
TW-Tact powers out, somersaulting back onto his feet!
JC: Oh my God! I don’t know if my heart can take this!
Collins and Tact both spring to their feet! Tact charges in!
LARIAT!
…Collins latches his mitts around Tact’s arm! He sinks him into a front-face lock! Trying to bring Tact down for a…
DDT!
…NO! Tact instead scoops Collins into the air over his head, looking for a…
BACK BODY DROP!
DREAM ON! Collins floats out in mid-air, landing behind Tact! He latches on Tact’s waist…
NOPE! Tact launches a desperation mule kick! Collins takes a kick to the stomach!
… Tact stumbles forward into the ropes, clearly running on fumes… As Collins rolls backwards, trying to land on his feet, but skids on his ass…
…There’s a brief moment where the two men stare at each other...
...
And the crowd erupts.
JC: Holy shit. What a show we’re getting tonight!
Tact and Collins pause, both slightly hunched, chests heaving, sweat dripping from their brows, arms lowered—not in surrender, but in sheer disbelief. Their eyes meet.
And they smile.
Not wide, not flashy—just those small, real smiles that only come from years of wars and a rare moment of understanding.
FIGHT FOREVER! *clapclap clap clap clap*
FIGHT FOREVER! *clapclap clap clap clap*
FIGHT FOREVER! *clapclap clap clap clap*
JC: This is what wrestling is all about! Two legends, two masters, and not an ounce of give between them!
BG Hell, I hate admitin’ it, but I’d let my mama miss her birthday if it meant watchin’ another ten minutes of this.[/white]
The two men nod—once, with quiet respect—and then slowly step forward, raising their fists.
JC: Here we go!
Tact grabs Aidan by the wrist and yanking him into another…
LARIAT!
Aidan Collins ducks it, spins around behind Tact, hooks the waist—
German Suplex…
But Tact plants his feet, drops his center of gravity, and fires off three hard back elbows—whack! whack! whack!—into Collins' jaw!
BG: Wow! Each of those elbows is a knockout-caliber blow!
JC: But! Blizzard refuses to get knocked out by them!
Collins releases, staggered, but rebounds off the ropes…
AND FLIES—a leaping neckbreaker incoming…
Tact sidesteps it! He snatches Collins midair and spins him down into a…
Sidewalk Slam!
…
BOOM! CONNECTS! The ring shakes. Collins writhes, clutching his ribs.
JC: Uh oh! Those last two sequences both have gone Tact’s way!
BG: Larry’s closing in on victory! How #TACTILIZING!
Tact doesn't hesitate. He yanks Aidan up by the hair—his face flushed red with exertion. He lifts him into position for the “Star Power”—the crowd gasps!
He hoists Collins up—a clean release powerbomb—
BUT AIDAN FLIPS OUT in mid-air—he lands behind Larry on one knee—his right arm immediately snatches Larry’s wrist.
Tact’s eyes widen. That sudden recognition. He tries to pull away—
TOO LATE.
Collins yanks him in, spins him through, and WHIPS HIM—
WRISTLOCK RIPCORD—
DISCUS LARIAT!
HELL’S KALEIDOSCOPE!!!
WHAM! Larry Tact collapses like a marionette with its strings cut.
JC: “OH MY GOD! HE GOT HIM! HELL’S KALEIDOSCOPE! THAT’S IT!!”
BG: “From the jaws of Star Power to the eye of the storm—Blizzard just stole the lightning!!”
Collins dives onto Tact—deep cover—hooks the leg with everything he has left.
ONE—
TWO—
THREE!!!
WINNER: AIDAN ‘BLIZZARD COLLINS
The crowd erupts, as Blizz and Tact lie on the mat spent… But with Blizzard raising an arm in the air, which sends the crowd into a frenzy!
JC: Oh my… Just… I don’t even… What a match!
BG: Shhhh, sometimes, you let the action speak for itself, Jacko. What a fight.
The scene opens backstage with Peter Principle being outwitted by a vending machine that won’t drop the item he’s purchased.
Peter Principle: NOOOOOOOO! Nooooo! NOOOOOO!!!
He grabs the sides of it and shakes it to no avail.
Peter Principle: How am I supposed to be at my peak brain power if I can’t get my daily bottle of Smart Water?
He suddenly bursts alive with a newfound surge of strength and shakes the vending machine harder. It still doesn’t relent.
Peter Principle: You damn thief! I’ll have you removed!
BG: Looks like that vending machine is getting the better of our GM.
JC: Yeah, that man stays getting ruffled by everything.
Mystery Voice From Behind: Looks like you need to put your head into it, not your strength into it, Mr. Principle.
The camera widens out to show…
BG: Doctor Holly Cambric! Oh NO!
JC: Uh oh, she’s caught the big man with his pants down.
Peter only gets a breath in, not even a word, his eye shooting wide with surprise, anger, and concern all at once…. Right before Dr. Cambric grabs him by the scruff of the neck, Emilia Glaskov steps in from out of frame and grabs him by the waist.
With their combined effort, they launch him headfirst into the glass casing of the vending machine, shattering it and opening up various cuts on his forehead. They do not let go, they carry him away from it, then charge and lawn dart him again, right into all the metal prongs and contraptions that hold the snacks and drinks in place. Peter’s body falls onto the floor, limbs splayed, conscious but in la-la land as blood slinks down his forehead in racing streaks. Snacks and drinks spill out all over him.
Dr. Cambric grabs a bottle of Smart Water, opens the cap with methodical calm, then kneels beside Peter Principle’s barely-conscious frame, blood matting his hair and his face twitching in microspasms.
Dr. Cambric: You thirsted for control, Mr. Principle. So allow us to grant your request.
Her voice is coldly clinical as she slowly tips the bottle toward his mouth.
BG: Wait… what! What the… she’s.. Oh God!
JC: That looks like a full liter bottle of Smart Water! She's gonna waterboard him with Smart Water!
Emilia pins Peter to the floor with a boot on the chest as Dr. Cambric forces the water between his lips and into his throat. She begins to narrate this like an anatomical lecture. Peter sputters, gag, eyes wide with primal terror.
Dr. Cambric: Phase one, aspiration onset. The epiglottis fails to seal under duress. Water invades the trachea. Your lungs, the innocent bystanders, begin to drown without submersion. Fascinating.
Peter begins to thrash. His gurgling is a bubbling whimper.
Dr. Cambric: Phase two, bronchospasm. Your bronchial muscles are contracting involuntarily, attempting to purge the intrusion. Your alveoli, those sacs responsible for oxygen exchange, are now saturated. Suffocation begins from the inside.
She tilts his head slightly to keep the water flowing more easily.
Dr. Cambric: Phase three, hypoxia. Your brain, ever so fragile, is seconds from misfiring. Electrical signals are short-circuiting. Can you feel it, Mr. Principle? If you survive, you may not remember how to tie your shoes.
Peter lets out a muffled wail before Emilia calls it off, taking the bottle from Dr. Cambric with a nod and tossing it aside, leaving him coughing, wheezing, and semi-conscious in a puddle of high-pH hydration.
Dr. Cambric rises slowly and wipes her gloves.
Dr. Cambric: Let this serve as a cautionary tale. Flaunting your power at us will always drown in consequence.
Emilia leans in, lips curled.
Emilia Glazkov: Next time, you will choke on something less pleasant. If you keep sending Nickles and Dimes at us, we will keep treating you this way. This is final warning.
They step over Peter’s quivering form as the camera lingers on his blood-slick face, mouth twitching, lips foaming slightly, the Smart Water leaking from the corner of his mouth.
JC: This Warfare go-home to Leap of Faith has been one wild ride, Brody Goodman, but we’re not quite done yet!
Next up… our Main Event!
BG: Our tag team champions, two of the most talented, most decorated men in this industry today, Sebastian Evertte-Bryce and Isaiah King…
JC: The Exiles!
BG: That’s right -damn would you let me finish?- THE EXILES. Main eventing Warfare with their first title defense since winning these belts at Rebellion. Against a team of–
JC: Against a truly sinister force in The Black Rainbow’s Holly Cambric, and Emilia Glazkov.
BG: Again… would you quit cutting me off-
JC: Well, I just want to make sure you’re-
BG: Make sure of nothing!
Make sure I don’t tell the people out there that the XWF is no place for these devil cultists.
Tell the world that THE EXILES are what this tag team division needs! Not parlor tricks and satanic black magic.
JC: So.. just to clarify… you’re NOT a fan of the Black Rainbow.
BG: Don’t be a smart ass, Jack.
Beautiful Brody Goodman likes normal. He likes money. THE EXILES are money! These cult figures are just trying to take the money of the fans who would otherwise be pumping it into the XWF.
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: Well here comes the Dr. of the Black Rainbow now!
BG: She’s the doctor, the same way Dr. Phil is a doctor…
JC: Well, now you’re starting to sound like a lefty revolutionary yourself
BG: No, goddamn I’m not, YOU are sounding like Jacko wants to light up a jack-o-lantern for these FREAKS! Did you not just see what they did to Peter Principle?!
JC: Which speaks all the more to them being something to take seriously, BG.
Dr. Holly Cambric, seemed less interested in claiming the tag team titles, and more interested in dissecting her opponents based on her words this week. That kind of thinking is dangerous, and something The Exiles shouldn’t take lightly
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. She walks slowly, controlled, every step measured. The camera focuses on her eyes, which are found unblinking and analytical.
As she 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 kneels briefly in the center of the ring.
Then she rises.
The final haunting note of the theme echoes as she removes her coat, folds it precisely, and hands it to a ringside official with surgical detachment. She paces the ropes once, then retreats to her corner.
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.
JC: And now her partner, Brody… The Advocate!
BG: Advocate? What’s the Black Rainbow need an advocate for, when they’ve got you sitting up here, corrupting these kids’ minds with the thought of Black Rainbow to be taken seriously?
JC:Brody, you’ve had a problem with everything I’ve said for the last 5 minutes.
BG: Damn right I’ve got a problem. These people need to be pointed back to the sidewalk, with a cardboard sign and a paper cup. And here you are, acting like they have a chance, like they deserve a chance! These girls don’t even really trust each other!
JC: And yet that was exactly the situation we found our NEW champions in just weeks ago and Rebellion. SEB and King had, and still carry GREAT distrust of one another, and they were able to overcome Dyson and Waters… unless you want to defend Dolly Waters from The Corporation, and claim it was only because of outside interference that The Exiles won.
BG: Now you’re just being nasty, Jack. You wanna root this garbage on, be my guest!
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.
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.
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 odd-bedfellows of the Black Rainbow huddle near their corner when…
“Martin had a dream…”
The beat drops like a hammer as the crowd goes wild. The stans in the stands bop up and down to the iconic Sweatpants beat while rapping along to Kendrick’s Backseat Freestyle verse. The mashup highlights both how similar and dysfunctional this pairing is.
White-hot strobes flash, timed perfectly to every thump of the bass. There’s no warm up, The Exiles are approaching and everyone knows it.
“All my life, I want money and power
Respect my mind or die from lead shower”
The screen glitches to life, a black background with a grey logo and some words:
“The Exiles
Not a choice, a sentence.”
Two spotlights snap on from opposite ends of the stage, on the left: Sebastian Everett-Bryce, dressed in a long black coat. His chin tilts upwards slightly, a wry smile pastered on it - hiding his disdain for this situation. He adjusts the arms on his coat mid-stride, as he makes his way down to the ring. The shining tag-belt glimmers from his waist.
On the right: Isaiah King, no cape or theatrics, simply a weathethered grey leather jacket over some wrestling tights and boxing boots. He glances at the name on the screen and shows visible disgust, he carries the tag belt by the strap.
“Gadamn I feel amazin’”
BG: And here they are–
JC: — THE NEW! XWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS!--
BG: Damnit, man! SEE! There you go again. You haven’t cared for the exiled this entire time, and now you’re trying to steal my thunder again!
JC: I’m not trying to steal your thunder Brody, I’m trying to be impartial! Something you could learn from.
BG: Learn? LEARN?! What do you think I am, Jack? Some hussy academic? I come to the booth with FEELING. That’s why these fine people tune in to hear me!
JC: I think they tune in to see the amazing athletes we have up and down this roster. For amazing Main Events just like this one!
They converge halfway down the way but don’t acknowledge each other, not a glance or a nod.
The crowd’s noise is deafening - divided and rowdy. Some bounce to the beat, others boo like they’re watching two egos that deserve to eat each other alive.
As the two get to the ring, Isaiah slides through the bottom ropes while SEB makes his way to the stairs for a more graceful entry. They both make their way to the centre of the ring, faces cracking at the discomfort before shifting to accommodate the other.
JC: For all of the differences these two share, it’s their individuality they claim, that will put them above The Black Rainbow tonight…
BG: And we’ve got no reason to believe otherwise! You saw it at Rebellion. Dyson and Waters seemed flat out unbeatable, Jack, and yet it was The Exiles who proved that separate legacies can converge into one!
The Exiles have returned here to Warfare to defend this tag team titles!
Isaiah lifts the belt up into the air while Sebastian spreads his coat to draw attention to the other half as their theme slowly comes to a quiet.
SEB steps to the forefront to face off against Cambric, but King beats him to the refs check-in. Turning around and smiling to his partner, insisting that he’s got the opening bell under control.
SEB raises his hands as if not to argue, rolling his eyes a bit, and stepping out onto the apron.
THE BELL RINGS AND WE’RE UNDERWAY!!!!
Cambric shows no urgency, had it been SEB, or King, she’s unfazed. She tilts her head, side to side, examining King up close and personal, stepping closer and closer and— STIFF JAB SHOTS FROM KING!
ARE SIDE STEPPED BY CAMBRIC!
A quick chop block thrown into the side of his knee, brings him down to the mat. Her face is without emotion. She stalks around King, working in stomps to his joints. His elbow. His knee. His elbow again. His knee again.
JC: Cambric is in no hurry here, she’s looking to dissect Isaiah King, she wants to see what the former universal champion has inside.
BG: What are we gonna’, Jack? Let her scalpel this man open, play with his body parts on live TV???
JC: It’s a figure of speech.
BG: Figure of nothing! Figure you better be a little more respectful to our tag team champs!
King is eating the stomps, but still shifts away on his belly, struggling up to his knee and to his feet. He grabs at Cambric, but it’s Holly who twists him into a wrist lock and then SUPERKICK–
NO! King just barely dodged it!
JC: King was about to go to sleep right there!
BG: You are putting me to sleep!
He bobs his head just out of the way of Holly’s trademark superkick, and holds onto her wrist, whipping her to the corner.
But Cambric reverses, and it’s King going back first into the turnbuckle pads. Cambric takes a few steps toward him, then takes a short, unemotional charge, bashing King in the ribs with a stiff knee. King tries to fall, but Cambric is quick. She grabs the ropes, and puts her leg up, choking King with her boot.
The ref runs over and gives Cambric a count…
She takes every second and then releases. BEFORE JUMPING RIGHT BACK ON KING AS HE FALLS TO HIS REAR!
She takes his hand, wrapping it through the bottom rope and back onto the mat, where she proceeds to squeeze on a pressure point in his wrist, letting go only to stand and give King’s wrist and hand repeated stomps.
King hollers out in agony.
:JC I can’t believe we’re seeing Isaiah neutralized so quickly here, Brody
BG: I can’t believe we’re seeing Isaiah neutralized so quickly here, Brody--he mocks–
Cambric pulls Isaiah away from the corner, stomping his elbow again along the way. Then, with his arm flat, she steps on the back of his elbow, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling his arm up toward her, seeing just how far it goes before she breaks it.
King roars like a beast through the pain, and rolls over to his back, overpowering Cambric. But she stays locked onto him, converting into an arm scissor on her way down to the mat, still wrenching back on that wrist, and that arm she’s been doing work on.
But King pulls up, his upper body vertical as he falls right down on Cambric’s face with a forearm smash. She doesn’t quite let go, so he delivers another, and lays her flat on her back.
King wobbles all the way to his feet now. A look of disgust washing over his face. He looks over at SEB who’s shaking his head, pointing at his wrist, like ‘its time to get rolling now’
King waves a hand at him and pulls Holly up to her feet by her head. He has to drop one of his hands as it’s clearly still bothering him from the attack by Camberic. But still, King delivers a gut punch to Holly with his good hand, she melts like butter into his frame. Now a punch to the kidney, and another! Pushing her into the ropes. Cambric tries to block with her arms at her ribs, but another shot around her defenses and into her kidney a third time!
BG: SEE! WHOS THE DOCTOR NOW, JACK? IF DR. HOLLY KNEW ANY BETTER, SHE’D KNOW ENOUGH OF THOSE PUNCHES WILL HAVE HER PEEING BLOOD THROUGH A CATHETER!
King grapples Holly up, lifting her into a suplex, but then hangs her over the tope rope and UPPERCUT!
Cambric crumbles and falls onto the apron. King turns back and does a bow before SEB who lets out a mildly impressed chuckle.
“Hows your hand, partner?”
“Good enough to tag in”
King does just that and the crowd rouses up at the sight of SEB entering the ring. He starts bouncing up and down on his feet, letting Camberic get back into the ring. She eyes the far corner where Emilia is fresh, but knows she won’t make it in time before SEB attacks her. She gets her feet under her with a little hobble in her step and moves forward. SEB courses lower, and hasn’t stopped moving, he veers right, scoots then grapples up from the left. He ties Holly’s forearms under his and powers up on his thighs, and lifts– but Cambric slips around him A REVERSE SNAP SUPLEX!
CAMBRIC FLOATS OVER AND MOUNTS!
But SEB is still fresh, he’s recovering quick! Strikes into the ribs with his knees buys him time to scoot away on his bottom. He springs back to his feet- but Cambric is already making the tag… and takes full advantage of another count!
CAmberic runs right back at Seb, foregoing the apron, but SEB thawarts the running knee attack- but steps right into a sliding forearm smash from Glazkov! Cambric smiles and begins rolling away on the mat to the apron. SEB meanwhile is gaping for air as Glazkov moves in– her body coils like smoke, and hits a floatover neckbreaker… whispering something to SEB along the way down.
Shet stands quickly. Rolling her eyes into the back of her head and mumbling something, raising her hand up as if she’s pulling SEB back to his feet. He stands, sluggish and wobbling, SPINNING BACK ELBOW FROM GLAZKOV!
Followed by a left and right and another left and another right, quick, fierce palm strikes up and down SEBs body. She kneels while he’s disoriented, and SNAP DDT TO THE MAT AND A COVER!
1!
—SEB DOESN’T KICK OUT–
Instead he wraps his arm around Emilia’s neck and lifts her off, while standing on his feet. He has Emilia suspended from the mat, one hand on her tights, his other arm still wrapped around her head.
–he hangs–
–and hangs–
–the crowd goes wild from the display of strength–
–AND DROPS–
DDT of his own!
Seb kips up to his feet, and wastes no time. He snatches Glazkov up, and tiger suplexes her right back down. Another kip up!
JC: Oh SEB is feeling it now!
BG: Don’t try and join the winning team now, Jack. The skill of SEB and King was always gonna take over
JC: I ws never on anyone’s “team”, Brody. Like I said, I try and be as impartial as I can–
BG: Impartial my ass. Only when there’s… there’s communists and death cults running around!
SEB positions himself around Glazkov, crouching down some. When she gets to her feet…GERMAN SUPLEX!
ROLL THROUGH!
RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX INTO THE CORNER!
Glazkov is jarred and whipped, but lands standing-sort-in the corner. SEB runs in… MOONSAULT DROPKICK!
GLAZKOV IS DOWN!
SEB backs up to his corner– HE’S LOOKING FOR THE EMPIRE KICK!
Glazkov struggles up to her knees, and SEB charges!!!
BUT KING TAGGED IN FIRST!
Seb stops halfway across the ring, and turns to his partner, throwing his hands up. But King just smiles, runs past him and LONELY ROAD KNEE TO GLAZKOV!
1!
Even though he’s pissed, SEB stays in the ring, making sure Camberic can’t break up the fall
2!!
BUT GLAZKOV KICKS OUT ON HER OWN!
King swears it sounded like she whispered some spell to him before she kicked out.
SEB climbs back to the apron, and King goes to work. Still favoring the hand Camberic worked on, King drags Emilia up by just one hand, and moves her to the turn buckle. Body blows land flush, over and over, she’s falling forward into his arms, he lifts, he spins he SLAMS HER WITH A SPINEBUSTER!
King holds onto her legs, flips and bridges her, rear first on shoulders for the pin.
1!
2!!
BUT AGAIN SHE KICKS OUT!
JC: The Black Rainbow are real lucky right there, Partner-
BG: I dont know if I feel comfortable with you calling me that anymore.
JC: –whatever. Point I was making is that Holly Camberic appeared to have no intention of breaking up that pinfall! As if she knew it would be no problem for Emilia to kick out.
BG: This is the first time tonight I’ve seen her doctorate degree be put to good use, she’s smart enough to know that she’d just be delaying the inevitable!
JC: And meanwhile she’s freshened up out on that apron, if she gets back in the ring, it might be problems for our champs.
BG: King nearly had her spitting real blood out of her mouth, not some damn Spirit Halloween shop capsule.
King backs up in the corner, watching Emilia climb slowly to her feet, hets mid motion, into a spin– BUT NOW SEB HAS TAGGED IN MID MOVE– Prince clobbers Emilia with the Royal Verdict spinning discus punch….
BUT SHE DOESN’T FALL DOWN!
SHE’S JUST OUT ON HER FEET!
KING WITH THE ROLL UP—
NO–
EMPIRE KICK! EMPIRE KICK!!!!!!!
–TO KING!!!!!!
JC: Oh my! Seb snuck in there with the tag, to help King finish off Glazkov– but she fell right out of the way of that Empire Kick and King is out cold!
BG: We saw it, we saw it- whatever. IF these boys don’t start playing better together, they’re gonna’ end up like you and me in this here booth! –COME ON BOYS– GET IT TOGETHER
He stands, clapping, like he’s cheering for the Crimson Tide,
Meanwhile SEB tries not getting too thrown off by the accident- he checks on King briefly and moves back to observe Glazkov. Just as she’s back up to her feet, he’s right behind her- german suplex again- roll through again-GERMAN TIMES 2-TIMES 3-roll through and –
NIGHTFALL!
Instead of keeping the suplex train rolling, SEB locks in the standing sleeper hold- wrenching back as hard as he can– HE’S LAYING HER IN THE CENTER OF THE MAT WITH IT!
JC: But now Camberic hits the ring!
She almost just walks over though, her head looking back and forth at SEB and Emilia- the ref tries to stop her but she just pushes him aside and STOMPS Seb right in the spine.
He’s still holding on to Emilia
Holly stomps again,
And now on SEB wrist- even kicking her own partner in the face some, but it’s effective and breaks the sleeper.
Camberic is forced back to her corner now, but a furious SEB follows behind the ref, pointing at Camberic and admonishing her.
He turns back to face Emilia who is just now recovering. He steps right beside her, as she stands—NIGHTFALL AGAIN IS LOCKED IN!
But the Advocate, eyes in the back of her head, quickly slips her fingers through to give herself just enough room to breathe. She plants her legs hard and makes the two of them run to the turnbuckle. She’s flipping out– but SEB powers her up onto the top rope, positioning her backwards- climbing, and RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX FROM THE TURNBUCKLE!
SEB looks over his shoulder, standing on the top rope now, and sees Glazkov roll through and get to her feet groggily, her eyes still in the back of her head, she stumbles forward– MOONSAULT DIVING HEADBUTT FROM SEB!
THE MARKHAM MISSILE!!!
HE COVERS!
1!
CAMBRIC HITS THE RING!
2!!
BUT KING HITS HER WITH A ROYAL VERDICT!!!!
BUT EMILIA KICKS OUT ON HER OWN!!!!
Whispering something to SEB like she did with King, putting a disturbed look on SEBs face. He scrambles up to his feet, as King walks and Camberic falls respectively to their corners.
SEB moves to his corner– this time King doesn’t try to tag back in– he sizes Glazkov up—
AND RUNS IN FOR THE EMPIRE KICK!!!!
BUT A SNAP URNAGE OUT OF NOWHERE!!!!!!
“her knee sang the end of the match. her body wrote the epilogue, stretched across yours like velvet grief.”
JC: What in the world is Glazkov saying to SEB here?
BG: I don’t know how she’s even conscious
JC: Well now- LOOK AT THIS! SHE’S EVISCERATING EVERETT-BRYCE WITH MOUNTED ELBOWS!
The first one lands clean, unexpectedly. The tip of her jagged bone splitting across the bridge of his nose and forehead. SEB’s head whip lashes from the mat, and directly into a second clean strike- and now there’s color. Emilia’s elbow is painted red by SEB’s flesh.
He finally gets jut enough of a forearm up to partially block- but the damage is done when the fourth elbow hits, this time it’s in his temple. King rushes the ring, ignoring all orders and grabs Emilia by the boot pulling her off. She turns, gets on her feet and faces King, her eyes still rolled back in her head. SLIDING FOREARM SMASH!!
King falls into the ropes, and Emilia pounces. Sliding under the bottom rope and out to the floor, she reaches up and pulls down on the back of King’s head. Herself dangling in the air. She plats her feet onto the apron, and stretches all the way back
1!
2!!
3!!!
4!!!!
The ref is counting her out… but just as we get to 7!!!!!!!! she releases. Stands on the apron, vaults over the downed King and crashes into SEB’s chest with a springboard meteora as he stands!
She puts her hands together, looking like she’s praying to SEB just before pinning him
1!
2!!
SEB KICKSOUT!
JC: A close call there by the champions! And now, Emilia Glazkov is tagging in the relatively fresh, and very dangerous Dr. Holly Cambric!
Glazkov goes back to the apron as Holly studies her way over to SEB, who is pulling himself up by the ropes. Blood leaking out of his forehead. Camberic smiles and kicks the ropes, causing the unsteady SEB to fall to his rear. Just as his hand hits the mat, she’s already stomping it.
He pulls his hand back up, holding it, wincing.
“Oh, is your hand hurting? It could be a…” she slaps her hand down on SEB’s neck “...pinched nerve causing you trouble!”
JC: Oh no, Brody! Hollys got a drip of that local anesthetic locked in! And SEB is in trouble!
BG: But he’s fighting through! He’s fighting back! Up on his feet now- COME ON!”
Indeed! SEB is standing, with Crambric still surgically dug in on his neck. He throws a back elbow- it lands- and another! - AND IT LANDS!
Holly breaks the hold
BUT LEAPS RIGHT ONTO SEB’S BACK!!!!
FLATLINE PROTOCOL!!!!
She plants SEB with a backstabber, and immediately wrenches back into a rear naked choke!!!
OH ITS- - - A SLIDING BASEBALL KICK FROM KING!
The hold is broken, and King thrashes Camberic up to her feet- he throws her into the ropes and POP UP POWERBOMB! HER BODY BUCKLES AGAINST THE MAT
HE MOUNTS HER AND STARTS BASHING HER SKULL INTO THE CANVAS!
King stands - - - AND IT’S GLAZKOV SPRINGBOARDING OVER THE ROPES WITH A - - -
DOESN'T MATTER!
KING CATCHES HER WITH A SPINNING HAYMAKER PUNCH MID AIR!
King is finally forced back to the apron, where he starts clapping, trying to rally the crowd behind SEB.
SEB begins crawling toward his corner, while Glavkova is just now rolling out to the apron, and Camberic still out cold on the mat.
JC: This is a pivotal moment here for the tag champions! If they can get King in as the legal man while he’s hot- this might be goodnight for Black Rainbow!
BG: Goodnight and good riddance, girls!
SEB crawls, springs forward and DIVES INTO THE TAG!
King powers through the ropes, throttling Camberic with stiff boxing combos just as she stands. He’s backed her into the corner, and remains relentless. A step up enziguri follows, and Camberic is seeing stars. King catches her- throws her into the ropes and - - - ANOTHER POP UP POWERBOMB!!!!
Before he mounts, he looks over to see Glazkov attempting to get involved- she steps through the ropes- ROYAL VERDICT FROM KING – - – IS DODGED!
SPINNING BACK ELBOW FROM GLAZKOV!!!
IS DODGED TOO!!!!!
SPINEBUSTER TO GLAZKOV!!!
Camberic is up!
She handsprings into the ropes!
THE SECOND OPINION DDT!!!
BUT KING WONT LET HER PULL HIM DOWN!
HE GETS HER FEET BACK ON THE MAT!
HE TWISTS HER INTO AN IMPALER!!!
THE KING’S DECREE!!!!!!
IS SPUN OUT OF!!!!
CAMBERIC PULLS THE WRIST!
JC: SCALPEL LINE! SCALPEL LINE!!!
The knee connects to King’s head with surgical precision.
An exhausted Holly falls onto King…
1!
2!!
BUT SEBS CRAWLING, AND PUSHING HER OFF!!!!
3!!!
JUST A SECOND TOO LATE!!!
WINNERS– and NEW XWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS– Dr. Holly Camberic and Emilia Glazkov!
JC: New champions! New champions!
BG: Damnit!
BG slams his fist into the desk, as all four warriors in and around the ring are out.
JC: You may not like them, Brody, but you have to respect the way that the Black Rainbow battled here tonight!
BG: I don’t respect NOTHING about them, Jack! After what they did to Peter Principle? Unforgivable.
JC: I don’t think they’re asking for anyone’s forgiveness, Brody. As we see Holly Camberic the first to barely stand to her feet. We witnessed a war here tonight, and whether you want to admit it or not, The Black Rainbow just defeated a team that looked poised to have a long run with those tag team belts.
BG: I ain’t got nothing else to say to you, Jack. This broadcast is over anyway.
BG slams his headset on the table and storms off.
Meanwhile, Holly hasn’t even noticed the ref trying to hand her one of the belts, as she’s studying the mark she left on King’s head with a doctor’s interest. Glazkov gets to her feet and limps over to them. As Holly studies King, Emilia kneels before him, mocking him with a ritualistic anointment, her eyes rolled in the back of her head.
Neither seem to notice the ref draping a title belt over each of their shoulders before raising their arms in the air.
Warfare fades to black.
THANK YOU TO...
OUR MATCH WRITERS
Jimmy Stars
Peter Principle
"Bashmaster" Barry Masterson
Bobby Bourbon
Charlie Nickles
OUR SEGMENT WRITERS
Dolly Waters/Charlie Nickles
Kieran King
Dr. Holly Cambric/Emiliia Glazkov
![[-]](https://xwf99.com/images/portal2/collapse.gif)
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