05 - 15 - 2025 LIVE FROM DAVID MCKEEVER POST 64 BUFFALO, NEW YORK REVOLUTION CHAMPIONSHIP JUSTIN YORK© - vs - LATOYA HIXX NO HOLDS BARRED SUMMER PAGE - vs - SOLOMON KLINE BEST TWO OUT OF THREE FALLS ”CAVORTIN” JAKE BORDEN & LARRY TACT w/ ROGER - vs - MR. OZ & BOBBY BOURBON w/ THUNDER KNUCKLES TAG MATCH - NO FALLS- NO SUBMISSION- NO DQ OPPOSING MANAGER MUST ‘THROW IN THE TOWEL’ TO WIN

The scene opens up outside the arena and the camera captures James Shark as he can be seen entering the building. The New York crowd explodes with cheers. It’s not Brooklyn, but it doesn’t matter - this is still home territory for Shark and the fans let him know it.


He walks into the building draped in diamonds around his neck and wrist, his usual swagger, but this wasn’t any ordinary visit. He had been dared to come here by Charlie Nickles, the challenge had been laid down back at Warfare - If Shark wanted his Universal title back, he’d have to come to Anarchy to take it. And that’s exactly what he planned to do.

As Shark nears the camera he gives it a wink.

Shark: New York. Daddy’s home. We got a smelly hobo out here wearin’ my Championship belt like it’s his. Let’s find him and show that motherfucker how we do business over here.

Shark throws an elbow at the camera lens as if it is Charlie’s face. He then keeps walking, his voice trailing off with a smirk.

Shark: Wonder where Summer’s fine ass at too.




Plumes of Blue and White pyrotechnics shoot out from tubes around the makeshift entry ramp on the stage and mark the start of our show. Finally, after the fallout of MAY DAY 3, XWF has returned to SELL OUT the near 400 person capacity (throughout the bottom and top halls) of the David McKeever Post 64 for this edition of Thursday Night ANARCHY!!! Even still, there are hundreds, nay, millions more who are watching and streaming LIVE from their homes!!!

As soon as the pyros finish, "Lithium" by Nirvana hits over the speakers, officially welcoming XWF fans to yet another edition of their favorite syndicated full-contact wrestling show, Anarchy. The Anarchy announce team is at ringside, preparing for a night filled with action!!  With "Lithium" still playing over the speakers the cameras pan around to those few lucky and avid members of the Anarchy faithful from all ages, races, creeds & colors screaming on the tops of their lungs, proudly wearing their XWF Merchandise and holding up signs for their favorite (or least favorite) stars:

WE LOVE YOU BAMA T.!

SOLEMN INCLINE #1

KING YORK - CANADIAN REVOLUTION CHAMPION

THIS IS A #TACTFACT

I ONLY CAME TO SEE SUMMER PAGE

"CAVORTIN" THAT B*TCH JOSEPH GORDON-LEVITT

BOBBY + DR. OZ = DOBBY

MICHEAL GRAVES (ALLEGEDLY) STOLE MY OTHER SIGN

The fans inside the David Mckeever Post 64 here in Buffalo, New York are absolutely raging and ready to get the action of XWF’s Anarchy underway! They have packed the arena hours before bell time, anticipating one of the best shows of the year.

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

TODD: Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to...

As the camera looks further around the arena you begin seeing banners for another promotions “Pro Wrestling Valor”. The teal blue banners hang from the ceiling, guardrails and just about everywhere the eye can see.

“#BEDLAM5”, “PWV” and “Valor” are just some of the words on the custom-made banners that have been strewn everywhere.

TODD: Well, I was going to say XWF Anarchy, but by the looks of things, maybe we're being taken over?

BAMA: On my last show? What the FU—

The camera goes back to panning over the bloodthirsty fans, going around the packed Legion Hall before landing on Todd Moschitti and Bama T. at their commentary table at ringside. Todd adjusts his headset while Bama T. cracks his knuckles, looking ready to fight whoever hung all this Pro-Wrestling Valor paraphernalia.

TODD: Anyway, Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Thursday Night Anarchy! As always, I’m Todd Moschitti, and next to me is my partner in chaos, Bama T.! We’ve got-

BAMA: Before we even get started. Yes, the rumors that you heard are true. Rebellion will officially be my last show with the XWF. Which means...

TODD: Tonight is your last Anarchy. Ever. Possibly. Maybe.

BAMA: That's right. Not possibly. No maybes. Last Anarchy ever.

TODD: Well, I said this to ya in the back, but I'm going to miss working with you, buddy.

BAMA: You, too. But don't you worry about me, Toddster. It's private island livin' from here until sunset, baby! Someplace where it's always five o'clock, if you know what I mean. But I'll still check in on ya from time to time. Make sure you're still holding up on your end. Don't let me catch you slackin'!

TODD: Haha, I'm never slacking here on the A-Show. And I appreciate you checking in on me Bama-man. But speaking of the show, we've got a hell of a Thursday Night for everyone here tonight, in the Buffalo American Legion Hall no. 64, dedicated to Army Spc. David M. McKeever, who paid the ultimate price back during Operation Iraqi Freedom.

BAMA: It's a great venue with a lot of history, just like our XWF. Originally built back in 1920 as The Capitol Theatre, it's still in use 105 years later. This place is a tough as nails and built like a brick shithouse. We've got fans packed throughout the lower hall and another hundred or so watching from above in the upper hall, enjoying a full-service bar and snack menu. I'm actually a bit jealous.

TODD: It's a great view for sure. An excellent place to witness our new Revolution Champion Justin York defend his, ahem, updated Maple Leaf Revolution championship title against Layota Hixx in what is sure to be a no-holds barred slugfest! And apparently someone is excited to see the Pro-Wrestling Valor owner in action...

BAMA: I hope they keep it in the ring, or else I hope Bashmaster has us paid up on our insurance premiums. I don't think there's any room for the fans to get out of the way. Unless its PWV's wannabe Banksy. Then by all means, I hope he or she gets choked out with one of their own cheap banners.

TODD: He doesn't mean that, folks. But hey, after that we'll witness Summer Page take on Solomon Kline in a best of two-out-of-three falls contest. Both of these superstars really looking to secure a much-needed victory to line themselves up for potential gold in their futures.

BAMA: Talk about giving the fans their money's worth. It'll be a test to Kline and Page's stamina, grit, and determination, especially if it ends up going to a third fall. Kline just recently picked up a much-needed win over Hixx at Warfare. But pride is one thing. Gold is what Summer and Solomon are both after.

TODD: So true, Bamaman. And then in our main event, your last Main Event, T, we've got the Anarchy Tag Team Champions, Bobby Bourbon and Thunder Knuckles... except, well, Bobby will be teaming with Oz to take on "Cavortin'" Jake Borden and Larry Tact...

BAMA: Yes, Todd, and this one's special, because Jake and Tact will have Roger in their corner as their manager, while Bourbon and Oz will have TK in theirs. The only way to win this match is to have your opponent's manager throw in the towel! I love it!

TODD: And I'm telling you right now Bama, someone is going to have to hurt somebody really bad to force either TK or Roger to throw in the towel and effectively submit for their team. On paper, it seems like a straight-forward tag match, but it could end up a bloodbath in a hurry.

BAMA: I've got to give Bashmaster credit. He knows how to give the Anarchy fans what they want.

TODD: Even if he works for the Oligarchy.

BAMA: Can we prove that, though, Todderick?

TODD: Well, no. Not really. But it is the General Manager's job to motivate the stars to put their bodies on the line.

BAMA: This is XWF, Todd. We fight for pride! We fight for honor! We fight for-

TODD: Valor?

BAMA: F- that. I don't even know what a Bedlam 5 is!

TODD: It's... well, it's... uhh, nevermind. Let's focus on you tonight, friend! The Long-Island Bama Teas are being served fresh on ice upstairs, and the action is about to be served in this very ring! Stick with us, because XWF Thursday Night Anarchy is about to-

Suddenly the X-tron airs a banner and a promotional video for Valor's upcoming event, Bedlam 5, featuring some of the world's top talents and all three titles on the line. Once the video is finished, we quickly cut to a shot backstage. The Revolution Champion and Pro Wrestling Valor owner is walking through the hallway with several assistants carrying banners and he’s taping them to locker room doors and all over the walls, just about everywhere the eye can see.

York notices the camera shot is directly on him and so he stops what he’s doing and with a giant shit eating grin he adjusts the custom-made Revolution title around his waist and stares directly into the camera.

Justin York: Oh.. Hey there.. THADDEUS. I told you at Mayday that this was my fucking brand now. You have paid it so little attention and so little affection that it was nearly drowning. That is until I swooped in and saved your hide. I custom made a title to replace that piece of garbage that you had Matthias walking around with for the better part of a year and you know what? It’s garnered more eyes than anything your roster has done in years.

TODD: The arrogance— I think we've found your wannabe Banksy at the scene of the crime, T!

BAMA: Justin York did this? I'm gonna... I'M GONNA... congratulate him!

TODD: What?

BAMA: Kudos, King! Well done! Your banners look impeccable! Keep up the great work!

TODD: But he's advertising his brand on our show!

BAMA: And yet he is our champion. Now put some respect on the Revolution Champion's name and be quiet while he speaks.

Justin York: I promised you that I’d make this brand worthy of something and I lived up to that as I do with every goddamn thing I say I’m going to do. Only if the same could be said for you. I also promised you that I’d force you to show THE brand in the XWF some attention instead of having Warfare rammed up your ass like a buttplug. What better way to do so than to promote a company with an owner that cares for every piece of it like Valor, like me. What kind of fucking COO only shows his face on one of the company’s shows? Do you believe you’re too damn good, you stuck up little bastard? If this doesn’t drag your sorry to my brand and prove to the XWF faithful that you’re a man worthy of running a multi-billion dollar wrestling promotion and one that cares to defend the honor of the promotion you run then you’re just what I’ve always said you were, a nutless prick! Maybe you left your coin purse in Sahara’s handbag through the divorce! This is just the beginning Thaddeus, the games have only just begun. I know you’ll get a clip of this whilst sitting with Lucy pretending you’re superior to the entire world and it’ll strike you where it hurts but play it off like you always do because “nothing and nobody ever gets to you.” Now watch as I defend the honor of Anarchy, of the XWF and walk out of here once again with this gorgeous title! Ta ta for now!

York pounds on the title around his waist and then proceeds with hanging his banners all over the arena with not one person willing to stop him.

TODD: I’ve never met a man as ignorant as him. He’s flicking a hornet's nest playing with Mr. Duke. I don't want to hear anyone cry when he gets stung.

BAMA: I have no disagreements on the sentiment, but I like the bold play here. Justin York is proving to be a man of his word. He's putting his money where his mouth is.

TODD: He's putting Pro-Wrestling Valor where our XWF is!

BAMA: And that's why the "A" in the A-show stands for "Advertising", Todderick. York gets it. Now he's called out the COO and challenged him outright on it. The ball is in Thaddeus's court to respond.

TODD: I don't like it. There's a lot of bad that can come from this, but that's up to Mister Duke now. Are the tides of change truly rising? I guess we'll have to find out more... right after these messages!






TODD: And we're back!

BAMA: That didn't take too long.

TODD: No. But we are going through a crazy part of our schedule right now, with May Day at the beginning of the month and now we're already staring down Rebellion on June 1st.

BAMA: The weather's heating up, and so are we. I'm telling ya, we're going to sell-out Fenway Park. I can feel it.

TODD: Absolutely. And speaking of heating up, tonight's action is about to get underway, where Justin York will look to defend his brand-new title belt against one of the hungriest competitors we have in Layota Hixx!


When The Strom is Coming hits Latoya Hixx. they heard a voice laugh in the background and saw blue lights from the entrance and some smoke and rainfall coming down she walked onto the middle stage flexed her muscles walked straight down towards the aisle slapped a few XWF fans got inside the ring and dim the lights in the ring and she flexes her arms once more and spread her arms and climbs on the top rope and yell at her fans and tells them to let's go and climbs down off the ropes and waits for her Opponent to arrive

TODD: Making her way to the ring first is the challenger, of course. And did my eyes deceive me, Bama, or did Hixx slap a few fans on her way to the ring?

BAMA: Huh? Wha? Like 'slap their hands' slap them?

TODD: I guess? It's hard to say. The fans reacted like she was coming at them swinging!

BAMA: It has to be. Otherwise, I expect Hixx to be fined, suspended, and thrown under the jail. We don't hit fans here in the XWF, unless they jump the barricade first.

TODD: She's been living backstage for a few days, possibly weeks, leading up to this event, T. That's what Steve Sayors said, anyway. Rumor has it Layota even tried to fight the octogenarians during last Saturday's McKeever Post Bingo Night, demanding to know where Justin York was!

BAMA: That... sounds like something she would do, sadly. But hey, look on the bright side. At least her patience has paid off, she doesn't have that much longer to wait, Todderick!

TODD: Perhaps Layota can score a Bingo tonight and walk out the new Revolution Champion?

BAMA: ...

TODD: I'll see myself out.


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

BAMA: Got to hand it to King Justin York. The man looks all kitted out with fresh gold and a crown that's custom fit for him and him alone.

TODD: Not going to lie to you, Bama-man, I'm still a bit peeved that Justin York promotes PWV as much, if not more than the XWF.

BAMA: Why shouldn't he?

Ring Announcer: INTROOODUUUUCINGGGG The One, The Only. He hails from TOOOROOONTOOO ONTARIOOOO CANADAAAAA, HE IS THE REVOLUTION CHAMPION, KING JUUUUUSTIIINNN YOOOOOORK!

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

TODD: Maybe because he's on XWF Anarchy...

BAMA: Ohh, Todd. Never thought I'd see the day where I'd be the one telling you to get with the times.

TODD: What does that have to do with anything?

BAMA: It's 2025 my guy. Loyalty to promotions is so old school. Individuals are the brand now. Social Media. Twitter. Instagram. BlueSky!

The official raises the Revolution title between the competitors, before handing it off to the timekeeper!

The bell rings!

REVOLUTION CHAMPIONSHIP JUSTIN YORK© - vs - LATOYA HIXX NO HOLDS BARRED

Justin York stands dead center in the ring, looking his opponent up and down.

A sly, lopsided smirk creeps across his lips as he slowly raises his arms above his head and beckons the crowd to boo!

They oblige, soaking “King” York in a very mixed reaction from the XWF Universe, which he seems to savor thoroughly.

BAMA: Seems like the Buffalonians in attendance agree with you, Todderick.

TODD: Honestly it takes a lot to have your opponent literally take swings at the live audience before the match and you're still the one they boo.

BAMA: It's disrespectful. We're so close to Canada, that this is almost a hometown match for King York!

York glances briefly at Latoya Hixx, who eyes him earnestly, ready to fight the match of her life…

York then dramatically yawns and beckons Hixx forward like she’s barely worth his effort.

Latoya snarls, her thick jaw clenched and nostrils flaring like a bull. Her body tenses with impatient fury, her massive frame bouncing in place as she pounds her fists together, trying to psych herself up.

…York coos, tsk-tsking like Hixx wanting his belt is adorable. He raises his arms, offering her a test of strength…

Hixx nods, stepping forward to obli-

WHAM!

York drives a FOREARM straight into Hixx’s jaw! Her legs jellify under her as she stumbles backwards into the ropes…

Despite his challenger looking vulnerable, York again circles the ring, beckoning the crowd to boo harder, clearly more focused on the crowd than his opponent.

TODD: York playing mind games here in the early going. And it's not winning the Pro Wrestling Valor owner any favors.

BAMA: It's the perfect strategy. You said so yourself: Hixx has been waiting for this opportunity all week, or longer. Why wouldn't King York the Revolutionary use that against his challenger?

Beside the ropes, Latoya blinks in shock, rubbing her jaw, sore from York’s underhanded strike. Her brows furrow, confused that she didn’t see it coming.

Hixx shakes it off and charges—but York sidesteps her like a matador, as she ends up with her back to the corner!

…But again, rather than close in on his cornered opponent, he continues taunting the arena! He grins ear-to-ear as he shouts straight into the hard cam, “You watching this, Thaddeus?! You see all these eyes on MY show?!”

The crowd voices their emphatic disapproval.

TODD: He better keep his eyes on the prize, here.

…Hixx’s brow furrows with anger. That old temper of hers is starting to show…

…But she takes a deep breath. She can’t let this title match slip! She’s gotta focus!

BAMA: Relax. Justin York is fine. He didn't overcome the longest reigning Revolution Champion in history because he's a slouch in the ring.

She charges out of the corner, looking to grapple with York! York doesn’t even try to evade her…

Hixx gets a hold of him in a collar-and-elbow tie-up…

Until York spreads his arms wide! Breaking Latoya’s grip and…

SMACK! York catches Latoya with a slap on the back of the head, straight out of a schoolyard bully’s playbook.

Hixx doubles over, rubbing the back of her head as York stands over her, muttering something to Hixx the camera doesn’t catch…

Latoya’s face twists into embarrassment… then rage!

Hixx tries to catch the champion off-guard, she swings blindly with a wild haymaker!

…NO! York ducks under! Hixx’s wild swing rotates her until her back’s to York! York, with the giddy delight of a child opening a present, takes her undefended back, hooks his arms around her waist…

And SNAP her overhead!

GERMAN SUPLEX!

York holds the bridge! The official drops t-

Hixx kicks o-... Wait, no! York just released the bridge!

Hixx cradles her aching neck as York circles around the ring, beckoning more and more response from the crowd! He stands on the turnbuckle, demanding their volume be greater and greater!

BAMA: Behold. This is excellence in motion, Todderick.

TODD: This is a bully doing little more than pissing his opponent off and not taking her seriously.

BAMA: But it's Hixx...

TODD: I don't care, man. Any given Thursday!

BAMA: Justin York isn't just out here to defend his title. He's out here to make a statement.

Latoya lies flat on the mat, stunned. Her fingers twitch. Her eyes flutter as she tries to orient herself. York meanwhile stands tall on the turnbuckle, arms spread arrogantly. “You see that? Technical EXCELLENCE. You think THADDEUS DUKE could throw a german like THAT!?!”

…York chuckles to himself as the crowd starts a full-in “FUCK YOU YORK! FUCK YOU YORK!” chant… The official has started a count for Justin’s extended stay on the ropes, but Justin’s careful to break the five-count before a DQ.

TODD: York being warned by the referee here to get back into the ring. For some reason, the guy who has done whatever he damn well pleased since he arrived obliges.

BAMA: The Revolution Champion won't change hands on a DQ, sure. But this is about attention! TV time!

TODD: Shouting through the cameras at Mister Duke?

BAMA: Precisely!

York smacks his hands together, as if ready to give the crowd the show they came for…

Hixx shakes off the cobwebs, slowly rising to her feet, as York lackadaisically walks over to finisher her off…

York grabs Hixx by the hair, dragging her up to her fe-

WHAM! From outta nowhere, Latoya drives her skull STRAIGHT into York’s orbital bone!

DESPERATION HEADBUTT!

TODD: Whoa!

York’s cocky smirk vanishes into a sudden, dazed scowl… The champ stumbles back into the corner, blinking stars from his eyes!

Latoya’s skull clearly didn’t go undamaged from that headbutt... Latoya's head hangs heavy, woozy from that strike AND York’s early dominance… But she knows this is her only chance! She shoves herself off the mat, giving this charge all she’s got!

York squeezes the bridge of his nose, pain emanating through his aching skull… Finally, he manages to clear enough stars out of his eyes…

To see the runaway freight train that is Latoya Hixx coming at him!

CORNER SPLASH!

…

CONNECTS!

Hixx EMBEDS the Revolution champion into the corner, using her bodybuilder mass masterfully! York crumples against the turnbuckles, looking like the air got crushed out of him!

TODD: Don't look now, Bama, but your boy's strategy may have just started to backfire!

BAMA: I never said that he should take his victory for granted...

TODD: It's not much of a statement for the bully to get what's coming to them, eh?

The crowd goes absolutely electric for the possibility of Latoya Hixx’s first championship win (and also someone shutting up Justin York)... Hixx grasps York by the top of the head to drag him out of the corner…

WHAM! York catches her with a gut punch! Hixx doubles over, staggering back toward the center of the ring!

…York sneers furiously, angry that this insolent ingrate dares to challenge him! He charges at Hixx looking to finish her…

CLOTHESLINE FROM HELL!

…

NO! Hixx ducked under! Catching York under the breastbone… And using his forward momentum to heave him off his feet! Into powerslam position!

The crowd rumbles, electricity coursing through every seat in the house as Hixx…

Hucks York backwards over her head!

FALLAWAY SLAM!

York gets flung like a sack of Toronto potatoes from one of end of the ring to the other!

TODD: She's building momentum, Bama!

BAMA: This is not looking good. Come on, York! Dig down deep!

TODD: I can't believe you're rooting for this man.

BAMA: I'm a realist.

The crowd erupts as Latoya screams out in adrenaline-fueled triumph! She slams her fists against her chest, then locks eyes on York, who’s slowly crawling to his knees.

Hixx charges—and BICYCLE KICK!

…

CONNECTS! The crowd is stunned! Is this really happening?!?

York snaps backward and crashes flat.

ONE!

TWO!!

THRE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

York kicks out at 2.9! His eyes burst open in panic, as if it just dawned on him what it’d do to his claims of kingliness if he ate a loss tonight to Latoya Hixx.

TODD: OHHH! That just almost really happened!

BAMA: Layota Hixx almost won her first championship here in the XWF.

TODD: Well, according to York's belt, she'd be representing PWV too.

BAMA: Oh lord. Come on, York! Get your head outta your-

Latoya sits up, panting hard, eyes wide with disbelief. Her face twists—not just in frustration, but hope. Her fists shake as she gets to her feet, full of determination!

She grips York by the ankle…

But York, with veteran tact, rolls away to the ropes! Hixx tries to drag him away from the ropes, but the official steps up to break the action until York is out of the ropes!

Hixx tries to reach through the official, clearly sensing this is her moment to strike, trying to tear York away from the ropes…

But York reaches a hand over the official!

And jams a thumb into Hixx’s eye!

TODD: No! That bastard!

Hixx goes to cover her face, blinded! The official manages to push Hixx away from the champ, having completely missed the blatant cheating that took place inches above his head.

York breathes a sigh of relief from the ropes… He approaches Hixx cockily from behind as she tries to rub her eyes back to normal…

York grabs Hixx by the back of the skull! And goes to whip her around! Front-facelock!

He points to the sky!

CANADIAN BRAINBU-

NO!

Hixx manages to hook her heel around York’s ankle, blocking York’s finisher!

York is caught off-guard, not expecting the typically limited skillset of Hixx to permit her to block his move!

Hixx’s eyes flash with wild defiance! This is her chance!

She breaks York’s grip, just like he did to her earlier…

York’s hands go to strikes both sides of his opponent’s skull!

EAR CL-

NO!

Hixx’s dips under the strike… And her arms snake around York's torso!

BEAR HUG!

The arena explodes! Hixx has locked in her signature submission maneuver!

BAMA: You have got to be kidding me!

TODD: Upset alert! Upset alert! This could all be over for King York!

BAMA: I swear, y'all won't let me ride off into the sunset easily.

York’s eyes bulge, mouth open in a silent yell. His spine bends. His arms flail. Latoya shakes him like a ragdoll, sweat pouring off her face as she screams through gritted teeth, summoning every ounce of strength she has.

…His arm raises…

…

Will it fall?

…

NO!

…

York’s fingers claw at her shoulders, then his face hardens with steely resolve.

He reels his neck back…

HEADBUTT!

Latoya’s grip loosens… her arm strength starts to falter!

HEADBUTT!

She stumbles, her eyes glazed over.

HEADBUTT!

BAMA: He's fighting back!

Hixx lets go. And drops to a knee.

York staggers back, wiping blood from his brow, his face a mixture of fury and desperation. He wraps Latoya in a front facelock, and snap her up into the air…

CANADIAN BRAINBUSTER!

BOOM. Skull meets mat.

York crawls over, snarling through the pain.

ONE!

TWO!!

THREE!!!

TODD: Oh, damn.

Winner and still XWF Revolution Champion: “King” Justin York!

York rolls to the ropes, barely able to stand. The referee raises his arm, but he swats it away. He stands over the fallen Latoya, chest heaving. Then—classic York—he sneers and raises his arms once more, looking straight into the camera.

"That one was for you, Thaddeus."

TODD: Yeah, yeah. And you gotta throw one last jab at Mr. Duke. So much for a statement victory.

BAMA: Years from now, all anyone is going to remember was that on my final night with the company, King Justin York successfully defended his Revolution Championship.

TODD: He better count his lucky stars he didn't fumble it.

BAMA: Listen. It ain't easy climbing up that ladder. You gotta scratch, claw, fight for every bit of attention you receive. You can be upset all you want, but Hixx had her chance. And before it's all said and done, she'll probably have a thousand more.

TODD: That's true.

BAMA: York came to Anarchy to send a message. Now I can't wait for Rebellion to see if that message was received.

TODD: Oh, there may be hell to pay at Rebellion. But like you said, we'll have to wait and see... hold on a second, I'm being told we're being interrup-


The Camera pans from York successfully defending his Revolution Title to the locker room…

Where, in the back, who is watching the action?

But Warfare GM Peter Principle and Assistant Warfare GM Pip Collins.

”What about him? Justin York’s been on the hottest streak. AND he’s a “King.” Pip muses thoughtfully. ”He might be the perfect opponent for lil Comrade Waters and the end of her movement ‘giving the power back to the ‘People.” Pip punctuates his perspective with finger-quotes.

”Pfffff.” Principle scoffs, dismissively. ”After the way he opened the show? Taking pot-shots on Mister Duke’s management? Are you even thinking?”

”I mean, if I’m not, who is?”

”What?”

”Hmm?”

…

”No.” Principle turns back to the monitor. ”We need an opponent that is amenable to the status quo. That DOESN’T remind the audience constantly about their issues with management. York may be self-interested, but he’s a different manifestation of the same disease.”

”These EMPLOYEES… biting the hand that feeds.”

”We need someone willing to bend the knee. Someone that will embarrass Dolly Waters so completely in the ring, that Thaddeus Duke will have NO CHOICE but to accept my decision to terminate her contract.”

”...Wow. That’s… extreme.”

”We’re in the land of X-Treme, Pip. It took me a while to learn that, but it’s a lesson I won’t forget any time soon.”

…

”Hmm. I mean, if you’re looking for a minion who would do anything you say for a title shot, Latoya Hixx was also in that match.”

”If you keep barking out poor suggestions, Collins? Dolly’s not the only one hitting the unemployment line after Rebellion.”

…

Collins side-eyes Principle, surprised…

As the feed cuts to commercial.


TODD: What the hell was that?

BAMA: Chill out, Todderick. I'm about to do my thing here-

TODD: First we have PWV trying to take over. Now the Warfare General Manager and his Co-GM want to take up our airtime too?

BAMA: It's not that big of a deal.

TODD: They had their show this week. They had their time. This is our time, Bama-man!

BAMA: You're cutting into my time now, Todderick.

TODD: What?

BAMA: You know, the new thing I am about to debut?

TODD: Oh?

BAMA: ...

TODD: OH! Oh, right! Sorry!

BAMA: ...

TODD: Please, continue!

BAMA: Sheesh. Ladies and Gentlemen, it is finally my honor and privilege to announce to you, our very first recipient of the XWF Anarchy Superstar Spotlight... it is our very own Marisol Vilaro!


BAMA: Are you sick and tired of being sick and tired? Well then, do yourself a favor. Get that big fat you-know-what off of the couch, after Anarchy, and waddle yourself right into the VilaroFit™ system!

Marisol Vilaro is not just a valued member of the A-show brand. No, no, no! Behind the beautiful eyes of this Barcelona native lies a fire and a passion rarely seen outside of the competitive realm. Marisol used that passion to develop her body into a fierce, lean, fighting machine! But through all her trials and tribulations, Vilaro still maintained passion and empathy for her fellow man.

That's why she openly sells her patented, fully developed and tested VilaroFit™ system to the masses like you! Not just for profit, but so that you may benefit from her knowledge and wisdom as well. So once again, I urge you. Take time out of your miserable life to shed those unwanted tons. Become less of yourself. Put the cheeseburger down and order a VilaroFit™ Fitness Package today!

Use the code: "A-Show Fitness Goddess" to receive 6.9 percent off of your entire order!

TODD: Nice.

BAMA: And if you think you can do any better than Marisol Vilaro and her Black Rainbow brethren, well then, sign your big ass up for Anarchy right now and step into the ring with the likes of Marisol and many, many others who will probably crush you in the first five seconds - because you didn't order your VilaroFit™ system you fat piece of...!

TODD: DVD player and TV sold separately.

BAMA: Of course they're sold separately, Todderick. But the first 1000 orders will get a cheaply made XWF travel mug thrown in... so you can choke down your VilaroFit™ protein powder shake like our hunter-gatherer ancestors would have wanted you to.

TODD: Perfect.

BAMA: You think so?

TODD: I could've said it any better myself, Bama-man.

BAMA: You couldn't. That's why they asked me to do it!

TODD: Congratulations to Marisol Vilaro! We here at Anarchy love and appreciate everything you bring to our brand! With that being said, though, I'm getting word that something else is going on backstage... we'll take you there right now before we get interrupted aga-!


“Spoiled” Summer Page is sitting in a chair in an empty room backstage of the David Mckeever Post 64 bingo hall in Buffalo, New York. As she is on her phone she looks a bit annoyed while she listens to the person on the other end of the line.

“Spoiled” Summer Page: Let me tell you this once again, Richard, that despite what Shark thinks and says our “relationship” is nothing more than just business…

Richard Powers: And like I’ve said many times before, Mi Amour, that I will always love you but you cannot cheat on me with another man. Especially a man like Shark…

“Spoiled” Summer Page: I’M NOT IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH YOU OR SHARK, RICHARD!!!!

Richard Powers: You can be as mean as you are beautiful, my goddess.

Summer stands up and kicks the wall in frustration.

“Spoiled” Summer Page: Why do I allow you to continue to talk to me? You’re old, creepy, a pervert, unhygienic, broke, and don’t respect boundaries….

Richard Powers: Pfffft, boundaries? Those don’t apply to me…

“Spoiled” Summer Page: Explains why Thaddeus got one over on you!!!

Richard Powers: Ouch! Mi Amour! Just when I think you can’t break my heart anymore…

“Spoiled” Summer Page: Shut up!!!! I have a fiance that isn’t you and surely isn’t Shark!!!

Summer turns around to see Shark standing in the doorway holding a bouquet of red roses.

“Spoiled” Summer Page: OMG WHY?!?!?!

Richard Powers: I always knew you’d come around…

Shark walks in as Summer shakes her head.

“Spoiled” Summer Page: Wait? What? No not you, Richard! I’ve got to go.

Richard Powers: I love you, too.

Summer hangs up her phone.

“Spoiled” Summer Page: What the hell are you doing?

Shark has an immediate stink face before he looks over his shoulders. Once he realizes Summer’s comments are directed towards him he shakes his head and drops the bouquet of roses down onto a table in front of her.

Shark: Listen girl, you gon’ have to lose that attitude. You can talk to that smelly frenchy Richard like that and Craig all you want but I ain’t them.

He walks around the chair so that he is behind her, he begins to give her shoulders a deep massage.

Shark: I get it. You tense. But look it - last time was my bad on the roses. I shouldn’t have sent them over like that. I wasn’t tryin’ to put you in the difficult position with that bot you stay with. That’s why this time I’m deliverin’ em personally.

“Spoiled” Summer Page: Are you telling me you get all your friends and business associates flowers? Including the male friends and business associates?

Summer crosses her arms and gives Shark the evil eye.

“Spoiled” Summer Page: Because if you can show me that you do then I’ll stop giving you a hard time about always giving me flowers.

Shark closes his eyes looking annoyed, he takes a deep breath before reopening them. His grip loosens on her shoulders, his hands fall to his hips.

Shark: Summer your fine ass couldn’t stop givin’ me a “HARD” time if you tried.

He chuckles after emphasizing the word hard. He then spins her chair around so that she is facing him. He squats down so that they are eye to eye, face to face.

Shark: You don’t want the goddamn flowers? Fine. Give em’ to Solomon for his funeral because you dropped the ball on winning the Revolution Championship last show and you need to put that man in the dirt now to send a message.

There’s some fire in his eyes. The same fire he’s had in his last few matches. He wants that for her, she can tell.

Shark: Instead of all the bullshit you be givin’ me you should be showin’ me some love and appreciation because I’m still out here givin’ you the time of day with these losses you been havin’. But that’s what real friends are for right, Summer? Through thick and thin.

He gives her a big smile then rises up to his feet.

Shark: Now if you done hangin’ around this small, empty room… I’d like to show you something.

He reaches out and extends his hand to her so that she can grab it. That big smile still on his face. Summer looks at Shark’s face then looks at his extended hand, and looks back at his face.

“Spoiled” Summer Page: Why do I need to hold your hand to walk with you?

Summer crosses her arms and glares at Shark. Shark sucks his teeth and fights the temptation to frown. He watches as she crosses her arms as if to protect her hand.

Shark: Because we buddies, Summer. Why you makin’ everything so weird? You afraid of what people think? I took you as a bad bitch that didn’t give a shit. You can shake a million dirty, greasy, hot dog hands from sweaty, fat men and women at meet and greets but can’t hold my clean, coconut lotioned hand for 30 seconds?

He waves his hand closer to her. Summer moves her arm back.

“Spoiled” Summer Page: Do you take me for a basic bitch who is going to fall for that lame ass peer pressure? If you want to show me something then lead the way. I’ll follow.

His hand stops waving near her throat, it freezes, forms into a gripping gesture. He shakes it as if he is fighting back the urge to strangle her, he takes a big deep breath and puts his hand down to his side.

Shark: The patience I got to have with you I swear to God.

He raises his leg up and brings his foot crashing down as he does a little footstomp.

“Spoiled” Summer Page: What? I have a man and I ain’t like these skanks you get with….

Shark: No. You don’t got a "man"…

Shark mutters then spins around and begins to stomp out of the room, looking like a damn child. Summer rolls her eyes as she begins to follow him and they stop at a door. It is a big fancy metal door that has the nameplates: JAMES SHARK and SUMMER PAGE in the middle outlined by a big gold heart. Shark scratches his head in confusion.

Shark: Whaaaaaaaat????

He looks closely and confused at the gold heart, even touching it as he can’t believe it’s on there. He turns to look at Summer.

Shark: That’s so weird. Who the hell put that there?? Not me.

“Spoiled” Summer Page: Yeah, I’m sure you have no idea how that happened.

Summer rolls her eyes as Shark turns the knob and slowly opens the door.

“Spoiled” Summer Page: What’s this?

Shark doesn’t say anything, he just nods his head into the room for her to find out for herself. She’s hesitant but takes a step in. The first thing that could be noticed was the RGB lighting coming from the thundercloud effect on the ceiling. Upon entry there was a big banner on the wall featuring them.


There were leather couches along the walls and a mini bar in the corner, Summer could even spot an air hockey table. As she walked further in she could see on one end of the room was a big locker that had her name on it and on the other end was Shark’s locker. No divide as she had requested.

Shark begins to jump up and down behind her.

Shark: Well ????? What you think ???? Did I snap or DID I SNAP !???

Summer looks around in disbelief.

“Spoiled” Summer Page: DAMN! As someone who grew up in lavish monstrosities this is some kind of monstrosity…

Shark stops jumping, he tilts his head to the side like a confused dog.

Shark: Say what??… monstru….monstrsio…

He has trouble saying the word as it wasn’t part of his vocabulary, he gives up and shakes his head.

Shark: The hell that supposed to mean, are you talking shit or do you fuck with it!??

A stunned Summer continues to look around.

“Spoiled” Summer Page: Will you stop being so damn sensitive?!?! This is just a lot…Especially for an event at a bingo hall!

Shark: Bingo hall, stadium, backyard it don’t matter. This our locker room now wherever we make an appearance.

The camera follows Summer as she continues to explore the room before the camera turns to the large banner of the two of them. As the camera zooms into the banner the audience can hear Summer go “Wait… Why is it one big room and not two rooms like we agreed!?” before the scene fades to black.


TODD: What is up with all of the banners here tonight?

BAMA: Again. One of our champions. James Shark can hang any banner he wants wherever he damn-well pleases.

TODD: I don't necessarily disagree, T. I'm just saying it's an odd bit of coincidence. Every time I look around I see 12 more PWV banners, and now this?

BAMA: Yeah, but that 'All Eyes on Us' banner is pretty fire though, Todderick. I think the Universal Champ's graphics department needs a bonus. God damn that looks good!

TODD: It seems like Shark and Summer are still figuring out some of the finer details of potentially sharing a locker room.

BAMA: Oh boy, Shark's trying to get into more than just Summer's locker room, if you know what I'm saying.

TODD: What?

BAMA: What?

TODD: Regardless, Summer Page has bigger things to worry about right now in the form of Solomon Kline, because her two out of three falls match with him is coming up, next!


"Forgotten" by The Plot In You 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.

TODD: Making his way to the ring first is the Second-Generation superstar Solomon Kline. You can see it in his eyes that he knows he's about to go through war.

BAMA: The self-proclaimed Rookie of the Year has an uphill battle ahead of him to reach that mark. But a victory here tonight would go a long way towards cementing his case for a Rookie of the Year nod.

TODD: We know Solomon wants to impress. He's a young man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. But every week, every show, Solomon figures out a bit more, gradual but steady improvement.

BAMA: I wouldn't be surprised to look up a year or two from now and see Kline in the same spot that James Shark is in right now.

TODD: Me either!

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 at the 1:50 mark, he goes to the turnbuckle with a primal scream as the lyrics say "I have spent my life chasing things that have only brought me pain. In the end when I'm dead, hope it was for something!"

He returns to the ring and readies himself for the match.


S&M By Rhianna will play throughout the arena as the crowd cheers while Summer walks down the aisle. Summer gets to the ring side and walks up the ring stairs. Summer looks out at the crowd and raises her arms out to the crowd as the crowd cheers louder.

TODD: And his opponent, Summer Page, looks ready as ever.

BAMA: Why wouldn't she be? She's been hyped up by the highest champion in the land of the x-treme. If anyone can help you get your head in the game, it's Mister Trash Talk Royalty himself!

TODD: Shark sees something in her, I'll give you that. I have my doubts that Shark's interest is purely plutonic and professional, but if-

BAMA: Hey hey hey- Don't you dare put words in our Universal Champion's mouth!

TODD: Ugh. Well, what I was going to say is, Summer has been this close to being an XWF champion in her own right. If James Shark can help her achieve her dreams, I'm sure she'll take whatever hype or advice she can get!

BAMA: I'll settle for taking access to his graphics department. God damn!

TODD: Good freakin' luck, Bama-man. You ain't nearly as pretty as Summer Page!

Summer turns her attention to inside the ring where she motions to the referee to open the bottom and middle ropes so they can enter. Summer walks over to the closest ring corner and climbs up to the middle turnbuckle.

SUMMER PAGE - vs - SOLOMON KLINE BEST TWO OUT OF THREE FALLS

Once the bell rings, Summer Page and Solomon Kline being circling one another.

They lock up—tight collar and elbow. Solomon grits his teeth, muscles bulging as he tries to push her back, only for Summer to plant her heels and twist with sharp technique, slipping into a wristlock, before twisting it into a hammerlock!

Summer’s face is still, but her narrowed eyes track every reaction Solomon gives, measuring. Solomon winces, sucking air through his teeth…

Summer tries to apply additional pressure on the arm…

But Solomon twists his arm, ducking under Summer’s! He follows it with a swift roll and kip-up and manages to pretzel Summer’s arm into a wristlock of his own!

Summer grits her teeth at the reversal, her eyes darting briefly toward the ropes—calculating. She yanks Solomon toward her, ducking under his arm and taking his back.

When Summer dives forward to attack, Solomon drops to one knee, pulling Summer over in a fireman’s carry!

TODD: A much different start to this match, Bama! From two competitors that clearly respect the other's wrestling prowess.

BAMA: A little bit of catch-as-catch-can classic posturing with the ol' collar-and-elbow and reversals.

TODD: It's a good way to feel your opponent out.

BAMA: I prefer punching my foes in their faces. But to each their own, I imagine.

As Summer hits the mat with a thud, her expression flashes frustration—just a flicker. She and Kline both rise off the mat at the same time, and Summer quickly snatches a side headlock. Solomon tries to shove his way out, but Summer grips tight and forces her weight down, dragging the larger Kline off his feet and onto a knee!

Summer wrenches down, biting her lower lip in determination, intent on keeping the pace slow and technical.

Solomon’s brow furrows contemplatively… pushes up to a base, his eyes darting to the ropes, then plants his foot—lifting Summer up and tossing her toward the ropes with force!

Summer rolls through gracefully into a somersault that stops her from being propelled back into a strike from Solomon. She turns around…

And with a burst of speed, Solomon charges. Summer’s expression shifts to alert surprise, but before she can react, she’s taken off her feet by a thunderous shoulder block!

Summer’s back SLAMS against the mat!

BAMA: Big impact there!

TODD: Kline using his size and strength advantage here.

BAMA: Leverage, too.

TODD: Yeah, sure. Whatever works, right?

BAMA: Hey, it ain't a bad strategy to sometimes hurl your body at your opponent. Especially if you're twice their size.

Solomon’s face contorts into a wild grin. He bounds off the ropes, backflipping into a standing moonsault.

But Summer’s body jerks to the side—too fast for thought, purely reaction! Solomon crashes chest-first into the mat, the air rushing out of him with a dull thud!

TODD: Except this time, it backfired!

BAMA: I'm impressed the 27-year-old can move his body like that.

Summer’s eyes blaze now—controlled aggression. Her lips curl into a cold smile as she grabs Solomon’s arm and twists into a Fujiwara armbar, yanking back. Solomon groans, teeth bared in agony.

Summer adjusts from Solomon’s side to above his back, pressing her knee between his shoulder blades. Her brows knit with ruthless focus!

TODD: I don't think it's meant to move like that, though.

BAMA: Don't insult me, Todderick.

TODD: I didn't mean to!

Solomon claws at the mat, then drives his knee under him, fighting to rise—but Summer shifts again, floating over into a front facelock, dragging him down into a grounded headlock. Her teeth press against her bottom lip as she applies the pressure. Solomon’s face tightens, his breathing labored. He slams a fist to the mat—not in surrender, but rage.

She transitions again—now into a deep seated surfboard, wrenching his shoulders back. Solomon’s jaw opens in a silent yell, back arched unnaturally. But he refuses to quit, shaking his head violently as the referee asks if he’d like to submit!

TODD: Summer Page really working to secure that first fall!

BAMA: Having the first of the potential three falls is a HUGE advantage. Allows you some wiggle room for in case things don't go too well later on.

TODD: Perhaps allows you to take a few more chances to end this contest early?

BAMA: Precisely.

Summer yanks Solomon off his knees by the hair.

Her eyes are gleaming now. It’s time.

Solomon tries to battle for space… But Summer throws a hip to his gut! Kline doubles over winded…

Summer cinches a front facelock, aiming for Pure Perfection.

But Solomon, even dazed, reads it! Kline grunts, planting his feet, shoving her backward hard into the ropes.

BAMA: Countered!

Summer’s surprised gasp leaves her lips as she rebounds. Solomon plants his feet, eyes alight with defiant fury. His fist winds up… And he leaps!

TODD: He's looking for it, Bama!

ASHES TO ASH-

NO! Summer ducks, her face contorted into a tight sneer of awareness. She slides under his arm like silk!

Solomon’s expression twists mid-spin into panic—too much momentum. As he lands, Summer latches on with a waistlock, teeth clenched, muscles taut. She hauls with everything she’s got!

GERMAN SUPL-

NO! Solomon snarls and hooks his ankle around hers! His body tightens, refusing to budge. Summer growls—a rare crack in her mask of poise—and switches strategy, somersaulting backward in a flash into an O’Connor Roll!

She presses down on his legs, every muscle locked, biting her tongue in determination.

ONE!

TW-

Before even a two-count, Solomon rolls backward, twisting and reversing the hold into an O’Connor Roll of his own. His face is tight with resolve, veins in his arms standing out.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NO!

Summer kicks out instinctively, her face curled in a snarl as she shoves him away with both boots!

BAMA: Two damn-near falls in a row! That O'Connor Roll is a dangerous game.

TODD: Probably best for Summer to kick out of that one and move on!

Solomon hits the ropes from the force of the kick and bounces back—his eyes burning with a spark of vengeance. Summer rises—

BOOM! ASHES TO ASHES!

Summer’s head snaps back, body spinning to the mat as Solomon drops to a cover, hooking the leg tight, mouth open in a victorious yell.

ONE!


TWO!


THREE!

Solomon Kline: 1 Summer Page: 0

TODD: On second thought, Solomon Kline catches her with the Ashes to Ashes, and takes that huge one-oh advantage!

BAMA: Clutch timing by the second-generation superstar there, Toddy. Now he's firmly in the driver's seat!

Solomon rolls to his back, gasping for air, sweat dripping from his brow but his eyes gleaming.

Summer stares at the lights, chest heaving, lips parted in shock as the weight of the moment sinks in. Her hand lifts to her jaw. She didn’t see that coming.

Solomon Kline rises from the canvas like a storm gathering strength—his chest heaving, jaw clenched, eyes lit with a fire that borders on disbelief.

Summer, however, is already pushing herself upright, her jaw tense, mouth drawn in a tight line. She nods once, subtly—acknowledging the loss, but not surrendering an inch of ground mentally.

Then—she sprints.

TODD: We're not wasting any time here!

BAMA: Here we go, second fall starts now!

TODD: And Summer needs both!

Solomon’s smirk vanishes in a blink, his eyes flaring wide with surprise as Summer crashes into him with a running high knee that slams flush against his jaw. His head snaps back as he stumbles into the corner, arms slack against the ropes. Summer's face twists with intensity, breathing heavy through her nostrils like a predator closing in.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she yanks him to a seated position on the top rope. " She climbs the ropes quickly, swinging her legs up…

FRANKENST-

NO! Solomon’s teeth grit in midair and he brings his fist down hard into her midsection.

Summer gasps—loud and sharp—as the wind rushes out of her lungs. Her body seizes and drops, falling back-first onto the canvas. Solomon steadies himself, one hand clutching the top rope, the other pressing to his ribs. His face is twisted in pain, but his eyes glimmer with intent. He’s going to end it.

BAMA: You were talking about chances earlier...

TODD: Solomon Kline is in a prime position. I don't know what he's thinking right now, but he has to see victory in his sights!

BAMA: Imagine going 2-0 and sweeping Summer Page. That has to be the kind of performance the Rookie of the Year expects from himself.

He stands tall, pointing two fingers to the sky, then leaps off—looking to land a punishing aerial strike.

But Summer’s eyes flick open. Instinct. Desperation. Survival.

Solomon leaps!

MISSILE DROPK-

NO! Summer kicks up both feet and dropkicks Solomon in mid-air, her boots smashing into his gut! The crowd gasps in unison.

TODD: Oh my god!

BAMA: Somebody may be injured... I just don't know who.

Solomon crashes to the mat in a heap, dazed and clutching his jaw, his legs kicking reflexively. Summer quickly scrambles off the mat, draping her body across his chest, hooking the leg tight, her face buried against his shoulder in effort.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NO! Solomon jerks his shoulder up!

TODD: How in the hell did he just kickout?

BAMA: Sometimes taking those high-risk chances don't pay off. Good to know the kid has the fortitude to battle back when they don't.

TODD: He's not a kid, Bama-man.

BAMA: Is to me!

Summer exhales sharply, blowing a loose strand of hair from her face. Her eyes narrow. She pushes to her knees, shaking the cobwebs, then grabs Solomon by the wrist and shoulder, dragging him up from the mat with deliberate force.

But Solomon growls and breaks her grip! He lunges forward, wraps one giant hand around her throat—his grip iron-tight—and lifts her high into the air—

CHOKESLAM!

The ring shakes as Summer crashes back-first against the canvas. Solomon drops to one knee, breathing hard, his face glowing with the thrill of dominance. His gaze flicks down to Summer, prone and vulnerable.

BAMA: Oh, that was absolutely massive.

He rises slowly, methodically. No wasted motion. He crosses behind her limp form, hooks her arms, as he sits atop her back—ready to put an exclamation mark on the match with Dust to Dust!

…But Summer’s eyes blaze open!

She plants her feet, twists—spins into a Backslide, dropping to her knees with a surge of momentum, pulling Solomon’s shoulders to the mat!

TODD: Counter!

His eyes go wide in panic, arms flailing to escape.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Solomon Kline: 1 Summer Page: 1

TODD: She got him! She did it! The score is tied one to one!

BAMA: I know Kline's gotta be frustrated. He really thought he had her there with the Dust to Dust. But he left himself far too open there and it cost him. Luckily though, this match will continue!

TODD: I mean, if it was one fall, Kline would have won ten minutes ago.

BAMA: And he can still win. But now he's got to shake off the mental mistake and move on.

Solomon kicks out a heartbeat too late, rolling away in stunned silence. His body jerks to a seated position, hands running through his damp hair, eyes locked on the referee in disbelief.

Summer’s on her back, breathing hard, but a slight nod to herself on the mat. Her chest rises and falls with effort, but her eyes sparkle with the glow of survival.

The crowd’s roar reaches a fever pitch as both Summer Page and Solomon Kline push up from opposite sides of the ring. Their bodies are bruised, breath ragged, hair soaked with sweat—but their eyes?

Locked. On fire.

TODD: Listen to this sold-out crowd!

BAMA: 400 people sound like 400 thousand in this old Bingo Hall. But damn, I'm loving the vibe. These two battling it out are making me question retirement!

TODD: Really?

BAMA: No.

Solomon slaps his chest, breathing through clenched teeth, eyes narrowed, fists clenched so tight his knuckles are white. Summer bites her lower lip, rolling her neck with an audible crack, her jaw set, expression ice-cold and focused.

They charge.

Their hands collide in a tangle of limbs—wrist holds, switches, duck-unders!

Solomon wrenches Summer’s wrist with a burst of strength, twisting her arm behind her back!

But Summer winces but pivots smoothly, ducking under and reversing the pressure!

BUT! Solomon jerks his arm free, slipping behind into a hammerlock.

BUT! Summer spins again, hooking his wrist, pushing off his back for a roll-up attempt…

BUT! Solomon rolls through it, turning it into another wristlock!

TODD: They're going back to the beginning again, but more intense!

BAMA: We're seeing two superstars in the ring that both really need this win so badly that they're doing everything they can not to lose.

They're spiraling in circles, every hold answered with a counter, every shift neutralized. Their movements are faster than thought now—desperation driving instinct!

Solomon suddenly lets go and swings for a short-arm clothesline…

NO! Summer ducks.

Page spins and throws a forearm!

NO! Solomon sways back, missing it by inches.

A pause—both of them wide-eyed, breathing heavily, standing just out of reach, adrenaline surging like electricity.

Summer snarls and rears back—SUPERKICK!

NO! Solomon ducks low—SUPERKICK FROM KLINE!

…

CONNECTS

TODD: The amount of countering going on in the later third of this three-part match is unreal!

BAMA: They're really getting to know each other in there.

The heel of his boot cracks against Summer’s jaw!

Her eyes glaze over, body shuddering. She stumbles backwards, arms limp at her sides, her back colliding with the ropes. Her fingers barely curl around the top rope as her knees tremble.

Solomon sees it.

His lips peel back in a primal yell. He pumps his fist once—

He leaps—ASHES TO ASHES!

…

NO! Summer—sidesteps!

TODD: ASHES TO- NO!

BAMA: Damn, that was close!

A reflex, pure and unconscious. Solomon’s forearm cuts through nothing but air.

His boots skid across the mat—and then a boot to the gut folds him in half.

Summer's face is sheer instinct now—wide eyes, teeth gritted in resolve as she clasps his head in a tight front facelock. No time to think.

She lifts her hand high in the air.

The crowd knows.

PURE PERFECTION!

…

CONNECTS

BAMA: She got 'im with the Pure Perfection, Todderick!

TODD: Page got all of it, too!

She bridges, holding it tight—every muscle screaming, body arched, hair fanned across the mat.

ONE!


TWO!


THREE!

Summer Page: 2 Solomon Kline: 1 WINNER: SUMMER PAGE

TODD: Oh my goodness, what an intense match!

BAMA: If that's the way that I've got to go out, then I'm proud to have witnessed this fight on my final show on commentary.

TODD: These two athletes, no, superstars, threw absolutely everything they had at each other!

BAMA: And Summer Page had to dig down deep after going down in the first fall to pick up the next two. What a performance by her, and by Kline as well.

TODD: It's not going to be any solace for Solomon, who feels like he's been in a bit of a funk. But he came out swinging and it looks like the crowd is giving both of these fighters the round of applause they deserve.

BAMA: I don't care what they say. I'd get a number-one contendership designation on Summer Page yesterday after that performance. I wanna see Summer Page finally take that next step and be a champion here that the XWF can be proud of.

TODD: Absolutely. The future is bright! ...hold on. Wait. What do you mean we're being interrupted a third ti-


The Camera pans away from the electrifying two-out-of-three falls match, with Summer Page narrowly surviving Solomon Kline…

”Two good options there, Pete.”

…

Principle side-eyes Collins, disdain dripping from his eyes.

”...Uh… Mister Principle, I mean.”

“I mean, if you’re looking for symbols of the establishment to sink Dolly’s ship… Summer’s the daughter of a billionaire! Solomon Kline’s a second-generation star! Oligarchy! Nepotism!”

”...No.” Peter shakes his head. ”Summer’s too much of a goody two-shoes to blot out the Revolution… And… I have *other* plans for Kline. He’s a willing footsoldier in my other war against Black Rainbow.”

”Oh? Part of that anti-Black Rainbow “crack squad” you mentioned on Warfare?”

”THAT’S ON A NEED TO KNOW BASIS, COLLINS.”

…

”No. Neither will serve to end Dolly’s movement.”

”Well… oh! You know who could beat Dolly Waters?”

Peter turns around, silently intrigued.

”Aurora!”

…

”HAHAHAHAHA!” Principle doubles over slapping his knee.

Collins leans back, pleased at his own j-

”COLLINS.” Principle suddenly stops laughing and points his finger right under Collins’ nose! ”I SAID NO BAD IDEAS. NOT EVEN AS JOKES.”

…

Principle turns away from Collins, eyeing the screen once more.

”I need the perfect anti-Revolutonary. One who… when they defeat Dolly Waters, prove, ONCE and FOR ALL, the FOLLY of the entire misguided Revolution! Someone malleable. Someone you could stuff in a Coke and a Pepsi commercial in the same advertising break. Someone wh-”

”Someone you can CONTROL completely, right?”

Principle and Collins spin around, shocked!

”What’s that?!? Who goes that?!?”

Stepping out from the shadows…

”Your personal savior…”

Elon Musk!

”You want a wrestling superstar you can control?”

…Principle raises an eyebrow intrigued.

”My Chad GPT will be at your beck and call… He literally comes with a controller!” Elon Musk lifts a third-party PS1 gamepad. ”Or…” Elon lobs the controller over his shoulder. ”Let his perfectly-tuned autopilot wrestling programming SILENCE your rabble-rousing foes! He’s the PERFECT, CORPORATE WARRIOR.”

Collins sneers distastefully. ”Sir, I don’t think this is a g-”

”SILENCE, COLLINS.”

…

”What are Chad’s credentials?”

”Undefeated on Anarchy!”

”...Ooooh, so he’s the best car on the lot.”

”...Sir, Chad was the first one out of the King’s Tourney Battle Royal!”

”Slight programming error! I’ve worked out all his bugs and he’s ready to deploy!”

…

”And… I can’t imagine you’re offering him to us out of the goodness of your heart. What do you want for Chad’s service?”

…Elon starts salivating thinking about the object of his desire.

”...I want Chad competing for the Universal title.”

…

”And you can GUARANTEE he’ll THRASH Dolly Waters?”

”100% Success rate!”

…

Principle smiles menacingly.

As the feed cuts to commercial.




In the ring, we have “Cavortin’” Jake Borden, flanked by Roger. Somehow, the two have slipped out from the backstage area without being noticed, which is doubly-impressive considering the Tactilizing orange and green pinstripe suit that Jake is wearing, a gift from his partner here tonight. Roger has his towel in hand, and he’s, well, spitting on it and using it to clean a smudge of dirt off of Jake’s forehead.

TODD: You have got to be kidding me.

BAMA: I don’t understand?

TODD: Jake Borden, and his manager-for-the-night Roger, are out here now in the ring, obviously ready for tonight’s main event.

BAMA: Yeah, and?

TODD: He’s wearing the damn suit.

BAMA: The one Tact gave him?

TODD: Yes!

BAMA: Okay… I don’t see anything wrong with it?

TODD: I’ve never asked this before, but are you colorblind?

Roger checks to make sure he got all of the smudge. Jake asks if he looks good now. Roger smooths out Jake’s eyebrows and then gives him a thumbs up for the all clear. Jake smiles and thanks Roger, before sinking into the near corner. Roger tosses the towel over the rope to the timekeeper before realizing that he needs that and goes diving through the ropes to retrieve it.

BAMA: I think he looks quite…

TODD: Don’t you say it.

BAMA: Tactilizing!

TODD: …nobody even knows what that means, T.

BAMA: Of course they do! And you can know all about it, if you’re willing to fork over the 2,750.

TODD: …come again?


"In the Face of Evil" by Magic Sword reverberates over the PA. Row after row, aisle to aisle, fans rise from their seats throughout the arena and cheer, knowing one of their workhorses is about to appear!

As the second, third, and fourth chords of the theme reverberate, three spotlights shine down, one over another: A green circle, a gold triangle over it, and a crimson line intersecting the other two. On the Tron, his monikers cycle through one after another:




From there, the beat triggers the house lights to illuminate the figure of Larry Tact standing on stage. He's looking down as he hones in for the battle ahead.

BAMA: And there he is… the TACTILIZING ONE himself!

TODD: What do you mean, 2,750?!

BAMA: That’s how much it costs!

TODD: Not for me!

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.

BAMA: It’s for everyone.

TODD: I ain’t paying 2,750 dollars to no Larry Tact for no self-help program.

BAMA: That’s because you’ve always been a cheap-ass.

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.

TODD: Listen. Tact might have suckered poor Jake Borden out of three grand but the important thing here tonight is can these two men work together to take on Bobby Bourbon and Oz?

BAMA: That depends highly on how Tactilizing Mister Borden feels here tonight!


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

TODD: Man, everytime I see Oz in person, I’m reminded about how frightening some men can be by their physical presence alone.

BAMA: Crazy that Oswald is teaching in a wrestling school now, huh? Been doing it for a while I hear?

TODD: I mean, yes and no. Oz has a lot of those qualities that cannot be taught. But he’s got several years of experience in the ring that can.

BAMA: I wonder how much he charges for wrestling training? Or are you going to accuse him of scamming folks out of their hard-earned money, too?

TODD: Listen. It’s clearly different. Fighting training vs. Tactilizing Training…

BAMA: How is it different?

TODD: What the hell does Tactilizing even mean?!


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

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

TODD: And there they are, needing no formal introduction, but we’re being paid to give them one anyway…

BAMA: It’s our Anarchy Tag-Team Champions - Them No Good Bastards baby, yeah!

TODD: Speaking of peak physical specimens. I mean, within reason of course.

BAMA: No doubt that little Borden is the tiniest one in this matchup by far. But hey, at least he’s got the right Tactilizing attitude and the innovator of Tactilizing himself as his partner! If Jake can lean on Tact tonight, they might just be able to pull off the upset.

TODD: The way the Bastards and Oz fight and the way the rules are set up, I’d personally be more worried about survival if I was Jake Borden.

BAMA: At least Roger is safe tonight. Maybe.

TODD: Not even sure the fans are/were safe tonight.

BAMA: Also true.

TODD: TNGB were able to defeat Borden and Roger to become the second-ever Anarchy Tag-Team Champions, and they haven’t looked back since. They’ve been around almost as forever as two men can be in the XWF, and they’ve been a threat since day one. On paper they’re like the perfect team.

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

TODD: In case anyone is confused about the rules of this matchup, allow me–

BAMA: –ALLOW ME– to give you a rundown, baby: There are no pinfalls: There are no submissions: There are no disqualifications; the only way to win here tonight is for your corner to throw in the towel! 

TODD: And given the current trajectory of these two teams? I believe the backroom of this VFW hall is likely packed full of bet slips on Bobby Bourbon and Mr. Oz…

BAMA: And why wouldn’t they be, Toddy-baby? We have the Anarchy Tag Team Champions represented in one corner, alongside Mr. Oz–an Anarchy Veteran– and on the other side?

TODD: On the other side you have Jake Borden, Larry Tact and Roger… three men who are all coming off of failed championship defenses. One might argue that it could make them hungrier–

BAMA: –but one could argue that perception is reality, baby! And the perception here tonight is we have a corner on one side of the ring full of men who couldn’t defend their gold, while on the other side, we have championship pedigree, and cohesion.

”CAVORTIN” JAKE BORDEN & LARRY TACT w/ ROGER - vs - MR. OZ & BOBBY BOURBON w/ THUNDER KNUCKLES TAG MATCH - NO FALLS- NO SUBMISSION- NO DQ OPPOSING MANAGER MUST ‘THROW IN THE TOWEL’ TO WIN

The bell rings and we’re starting off with Larry Tact and Mr. Oz!

TODD: If you like powerhouse wrestling, we’re being treated to a doozy right here, Bama!

BAMA: 6’6 260 in Tact… 6’8” THREE-TWENTY-FREAKING-SIX IN OZ! These two don’t just beat the competition, they pulverize them!

The two meet in the middle of the mat, standing face to face. Oz, just a bit taller. On the apron, Bobby is clapping his hands, certain that Oz is about to make quick work of this - - -

HE’S AN XWF ROOKIE, OZ! HE CAN’T THROW BLOWS LIKE US!

Bobby’s words catch Oz’s ear, and in an instant, he’s throwing a haymaker at Tact… BUT TACT THROWS ONE RIGHT BACK!!!

The two behemoths are trading shots back and forth. Tact’s shots are more swift though, more precise, he throws a series of left and rights that connect flush with Oz’s head as the former Anarchy Champion falls back into the ropes - - -Larry granting him no room to breathe.

He pushes Oz hard into the ropes and then whips him across the ring and on the rebound….


SWINGING NECKBREAKER!

Tact is to his feet quick, with a huge pop from the crowd, and an even louder applause from Borden and their manager Roger on the outside.

He picks Oz back up, throwing him into the ropes again, but this time on the rebound - - -HE LOCKS IN A MILLION DOLLAR DREAM SLEEPER HOLD!

TODD: Great thinking here by Larry. He knows that the only way to win this match, is to convince Oz and Bobby’s corner that those two cannot continue. To convince them that going aunty further in this match could result in serious injury. Wearing big old Mr. Oz out with submission holds early is the perfect strategy in a match like this.

BAMA: Yeah, yeah, but if you think Thunder Knuckles is going to be intimidated by this, then you have another thing coming–

Just then, TK smirks from the outside, and hands Bobby Bourbon a chair.

Bourbon nods and climbs through the ropes.. He runs… RIGHT PAST TACT AND OZ!!!

AND SMASHES THE CHAIR OVER BORDEN’S HEAD ON THE APRON!

THE SEAT BUSTS OUT OF THE FRAME!

Roger is frantic, rushing over to check on Borden who’s fallen from the apron.

THROW IN THE TOWEL, ROG’ OR I’MMA HURT HIM EVEN WORSE!

Roger damn near has tears in his eyes.

BUT TACT!


He drops the submission hold on OZ and - - -

THE HUMBLING!

Tact plants Bobby with the uranage suplex…. AND DOESN’T LET GO!!!!

He’s got Bobby locked in a HARA GATAMAE ARM BAR!

TODD: A brilliant strategy there from The Bastards, FOILED by Larry Tact!

TK is reaching under the bottom rope, grabbing Oz’s leg, and jarring him awake.

Oz jolts up from the mat and KICKS Larry right in the spine!

Larry hollers out and releases the arm bar. Bobby rolls out of the ring and falls to the floor. His arm looking seriously damaged!

Larry turns back seething and Oz… HE GRAPPLES HIM!

SNAP POWERBOMB!

Tact looks over at TK who's deliberately filing his nails now, with now file, his back turned to the action.

BAMA: TK Isn’t going to let his emotions get the better of him here. The less he watches, the less he’ll feel compelled to throw in the towel!

Tact, with Oz folded at his feet, turns back to his partner. Roger finally has Jake stirred and up to his feet.

Jake is coming to now, and frantic that… m-m-m-m-my-my-s-s-s

Your suit looks, fine!

Roger assures him!

Borden looks reenergized! He nods with confidence, and climbs back onto the apron - - - JUST IN TIME FOR TACT TO TAG HIM INTO THE MATCH!

BAMA: Now wait a second, should Borden even be allowed to compete now? That man surely has a concussion! Just listen to his stutter!

TODD: …he’s always had a stutter, and that’s ok.

BAMA: Pfft! What are you going to tell me next? That’s a time traveler? That’s actually Roger’s dad???

TODD: ….

Borden hits the ring and wastes little time going at Oz!

EAR CLAP!

FOREARM SMASH!

BODY- - -


FULL NELSON SLAM FROM TK!!!!!

TODD: Thunder Knuckles just broke the mold of manager, and made the save there for his team!

BAMA: And the ref can do nothing about it! BRILLIANT!

TODD: BUT LOOK!!!!

ROGER IS SKIDDING INTO THE RING!

And scolds TK in a 2 minute or so long diatribe about sportsmanship… or something.

TK rolls his eyes and exits the ring. Roger exits the ring. EAch man heading back to their corner.

TODD: Listen… I know that Oz has a history with Bobby and TK going back to the BOB days, but I can’t for the life of me understand why the tag champs decided to take on this project tonight! Bobby seems totally out of rhythm, and frankly, Larry Tact might’ve broken his arm!

BAMA: Are you kidding me, Todd? This is all a part of the plan! Bobby and TK are masters of tag team competition… they’ve been luring Borden and Tact in all night and-

Borden kipups!

..kinda…

He catches himself with his arm and pushes up with an assist from Tact.

t-t-t-thanks

Roger applauds from the outside

Borden’s eyes narrow on the reeling Oz…


f-f-f-f-FU-fu-FULL-f-f-FORCE!

Borden goes FULL FORCE!!!!

Shit…

TODD: -AND so much for the strategy, Bama! Borden, with the timley assist from Tact is going full force!

BAMA: TK looks absolutely bewildered here, baby! And Bobby Bourbon is still out cold!

TODD: AND NOW BORDEN IS- HES-HES

BAMA: Locking in the most awkward looking sharpshooter I’ve ever seen!!!

TODD: It’s his tenth move!

Borden turns Oz onto his belly, and TK slaps the mat in frustration….




….and throws in the towel!!!!

WINNERS: ‘Cavortin’ Jake Borden & Larry Tact!!!

TODD: And how about that, Bama! Against all odds!

BAMA: Yeah, yeah..

TODD: One half of the tag team champions, with the other half at ringside, just lost here tonight to one half of the former tag team champs, and Larry Tact!

BAMA: I might not have given Borden and Tact the credit they deserve but… I STILL WONT!

Larry, Roger and Jake all celebrate in the ring with some Tactilizing cavortin’! Roger kisses them both on the cheek and raises their arms!


TODD: What an incredible main event ladies and gentlemen. Tact and Roger pulling out the most incredible of victories here tonight... truly unforgettable. But unfortunately, however, all good things must come to an end. And that not only includes our program here tonight, but for my main man Bama T., a career well-worked, and the beginning of a retirement well-earned.

BAMA: Stop it. You're going to get me all teary-eyed. It's been a pleasure the entire time. It really has.

TODD: It's been a pleasure to have you- wait, what now?

BAMA: What?

TODD: I'm being told through the headset that we're being interrupted AGAIN! But this time, we're going to be graced by the presence of our Universal Champion-

BAMA: TRASH TALK ROYALTY, BABY! LET'S GET IT! ONE FINAL TIME!!!

A custom version of “RIOT MAKER” by Tech N9ne begins to play throughout the arena speakers. The crowd instantly erupts with cheers knowing this was about to be good.


Shark storms out of the curtains. He doesn’t play to the crowd or take his time, instead he marches forward, eyes locked on the ring, his face covered with rage. The ring announcer does their best to be louder than the crowd and the music.


Ring Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, the XWF Universal Champion, JAAAAMES SHAAARK!!!

Shark rolls into the ring and motions for the microphone. The announcer is confused but Shark doesn’t wait, he rips the microphone out of their hand without a word.

Shark: Cut my music man, cut that shit right now.


The music suddenly cuts off. Shark begins to circle around the ring furiously. He has the microphone gripped firmly in his hands, eyes locked on every entrance in the crowd.

Shark: CHARLIE NICKLES…

The mention of the Nickleman’s name ignites the arena, fans rise to their feet, phones out, ready for a showdown between the two rivals.

Shark: HERE I AM YOU METH-HEAD PIECE OF SHIT. WHERE THE HELL YOU AT!???

Shark’s eyes continue to dart towards every exit, scanning the crowd and anticipating an ambush from Nickles. He then stomps on the mat and turns to the floor crew, signalling them to check under the ring - they comply but end up shaking their heads. There was no sign of Charlie anywhere.

Shark: You said I was running…….. BUT WE ALL SAW YOU RUN AWAY. Run away with MY Championship. Now here I am in the middle of this goddamn ring after you told me to come and get it back……

Shark stops pacing around the ring, his energy drops. He comes to the realization that Charlie isn’t going to come out. Charlie never had any intention of showing up to Anarchy. He told Shark where to go and Shark went without hesitation. Charlie was trying to show him that he wasn’t in control, that despite Shark being the Champion, Charlie was the one pulling the strings.

Shark scratches his head in frustration and lets out a deep sigh. He slowly puts the microphone to his mouth as he looks out towards the ramp.

Shark: Okay….Rebellion? Me and you? One last time?

Shark turns and looks directly into the camera.

Shark: Fine. I wanted you to beg for this match to happen but now you’re just going to end up beggin’ for it to end. You hear me you little cocksucker? You’ll be down on your hands and knees, mid-match, beggin’ for me to stop. The world has never seen a violent fuck like you quit or want out but I’m going to beat that side out of you.

Shark clears his throat and imitates Charlie, giving his best impersonation of him as he puts his hands out as if he is handing something over.

Shark: “Here it is Sharkboy. Here is your Universal Championship. Take it and spare me.”

His anger is hidden with a smirk.

Shark: I won’t have to kill you like you told me to at Warfare, Nickles. You’ve already tied the rope around your neck. Your actions is career suicide. Rebellion is the last time these people will see y-

Suddenly Shark is cut off with the lights turning off. The fans all gasp. The energy in the arena gets higher. Phones light up like stars in the dark….. And then the big screens flicker on…..

And it cuts to a shot of Charlie Nickles standing in the back!

The Nickleman’s grin stretches from ear to ear as he repositions the XWF Universal Championship atop his shoulder. He’s dressed in a full black suit with a patterned tie to match. Clearly, Charlie wanted to look nice for this occasion! The screen frames Charlie from the belly up, granting the audience a clear view of the stolen XWF Championship belt. The engraved nameplate reading ‘James Shark’ appears to have been scratched out, and then sharpied over! It now reads ‘Property of Charlie’.

“I hear you’re looking for The Nickleman, bitch!”

Charlie throws his head back with victorious mockery as he taunts James Shark from the big screen.

“Well you found him! Or rather….”

The camera on Charlie zooms out, revealing more information about his location backstage. It appears that Charlie is standing right outside the joint locker room of Summer Page and James Shark! As the camera zooms out even further, we see that Charlie is holding a barbed-wire baseball bat in his hands!

“He’s found her!”

The Nickleman bashes in the door to the locker room with his bat, creating a wide gap in the center of the wood. A shrill scream is heard from the other side of the door, presumably the voice of “Spoiled” Summer Page. Then, Charlie peeks his head inside the door’s gaping hole.

“HEEEEERE'S CHARLIE!”

The Nickleman kicks down the remnants of the door with one firm kick. The splintered wood flies off the hinges before The Nickleman turns back to face the camera. He gives a sly wink directly to the camera before stepping into the open locker room. The feed on the X-tron suddenly cuts to static, but not before we hear another scream, followed by the muffled sound of barbed-wire ripping through flesh.

Shark: YO?? WHAT THE FUCK, YOU SON OF A BITCH!

As the TV feed cuts back to the camera on Shark, we see the real XWF Universal Champion darting out of the ring and making a beeline up the ramp, towards the back. The cameras follow James Shark as he goes back through the gorilla position, frantically running back to his brand new couples locker room. Shark turns left and then turns right, before he’s finally in the hallway that houses his locker room. But this time, something’s different….


Posters of Charlie Nickles line both sides of the wall, covering them from ceiling to floor! James Shark is only taken aback momentarily by the knockoff Rebellion posters. In truth, there’s no distracting the fury in his eyes. Shark charges forward, past the posters, trying to find the shattered door to his locker room. As James moves through the hallway, you could swear that the eyes on the posters were following him…

When James finally finds his locker room, he sees Summer Page laying in the corner in a pool of her own blood. The flesh on her face and torso have clearly been ripped open by The Nickleman’s barbed-wire. James rushes towards the woman he’s been obsessing about, without care or concern for anything else in the world.

Shark: ….Summer? Holy fuck… Summer?? Can you hear me??

James Shark immediately drops to the floor, taking the wounded woman in his arms. James caresses her scarred flesh, trying to comfort her as the blood seeps out of the skin and pools around her limp body. Unbeknownst to the champion, The Nickleman is positioned in the corner of the frame, just out of sight to James: but the audience sees him clearly! Shark begins to call for help so that Summer can get treated for her wounds.

Shark: AY WE NEED SOME HELP OVER HERE.

That’s when The Nickleman raises his barbed-wire bat….

“EAT THIS!”

James Shark turns around, just in time to receive a faceful of barbed-wire! The champion drops from the force of the impact, falling right atop his bloodied lover. James and Summer lay flat in the corner of the room as The Nickleman loomed tall above them. Charlie’s lips curled into a dark grin as he placed the end of his bat’s barrel on the ground, crouching down beside it and the bodies. 

“Get some rest before Rebellion, will ya’ James? You look absolutely terrible right now!”

The Nickleman’s head rolls back with laughter as his hearty guffaw fills the room. He uses the baseball bat to push himself back up to a standing position, shaking his head in feigned disappointment the entire time. As Charlie turns to leave the room, the camera zooms in on the carnage The Nickleman wrought. Summer and James lay still in the corner of the room, covered in each other’s blood. Summer Page appears completely lifeless, her eyes rolled back in her skull…but in James’ eyes?

The embers of Rebellion still spark.

With that... this broadcast of XWF Anarchy fades to black.

A Special Thanks To Our Match Writers: Mark Flynn Jimmy Stars And Our Segment Writers: James Shark Justin York Charlie Nickles Peter Principle Summer Page And thank you to everyone who RPed! Next stop? REBELLION!

Great lead-in to Rebellion. All the matches were well paced and delivered some quality stuff. Kudos to Mark and "Mister Stars!"
The dynamic between Shark and Summer has made for such fun segments. Peter Principle and Pip are two characters I'm seeing I missed out on for a while.
Kudos to all the writers (especially Borden!)