JC: Folks, most nights your main event is the Television title defense!
BG: But tonight, the card is so packed, we’re opening the show with it! And don’t get it twisted, Jacko! These two could main event any card across the planet with how much talent is about to be in that ring!
Full black.
The stage alights in red. Smoke gathers around the stage. Gods by Sleep Token plays as XXXVI appears, rising up out of the red lights amidst the smoke, his hands gathered in prayer. He steps out onto the stage and takes in the mixed reaction from the crowd. He shakes his out his head and shoulders and begins to walk down the ramp, hands still in prayer pose. Half way down, he spreads his hands apart and reaches out both arms in T-Pose as he crouches, sauntering down the rest of the ramp toward the ring.
JC: There he is! The mysterious XXXVI!
BG: Still don’t know what happened to I through XXV.
JC: Roman numeral humor aside! XXXVI had earned a legitimate opportunity to compete against Them No Good Bastards for the Anarchy Tag Team championships! And if it wasn’t for being booked alongside a completely unwilling Mister Oz… He showed streaks of brilliance against the Bastards!
BG: He’s no joke, Jackie boy! Tonight’s another title shot! And he doesn’t have a reluctant partner holding him back… What he does have is one of the toughest, most ruthless women in the XWF as an opponent!
He climbs onto the apron, outstreches his arms and then enters, rolling backward over the top rope and spins toward the center of the ring, arms outstretched like a helicopter. He then sits, cross legged in the dead center of the ring, hands once again in prayer pose and bows his head. Full black again, then a single, red cone of light bathes him in the ring as fire explodes out of each turnbuckle.
…
The lights fade out suddenly. As her theme begins. the lights flicker on slowly and steadily, until they maintain a muted version of themselves, which Sarah stands in the middle of the entrance way. The lights follow Sarah as she slowly makes her way to the ring.
JC: I can’t speculate whether Lucy Wylde, the most recent XWF Television champion, regrets asking Sarah Wolf to GIVE A FUCK going into their match… But we saw a side of Sarah Wolf I think we’d never seen before.
BG: She goddamned dislocated her to escape a submission move, Jack! She was, pardon the pun… RELENTLESS in seeking to defeat Lucy Wylde! And she did so!
JC: And speaking of Relentless, it’s quite an accomplishment holding a title going into the biggest show of the year! But before Lucy won it, the TV title went through a hot potato phase of champions trading the belt for multiple shows… Will XXXVI be the latest to take the hot potato? Or is the belt at home on Sarah Wolf’s waist?
On either side of her are no hands outreached, no fans trying to gain her attention. Just angry faces and concerned looks. Sarah steps into the ringside area, and moves to the ring area, rolling in, and rolling to her feet. She positions herself in the corner of her choosing, and waits.
JC: And We are underway! Sarah Wolf versus the mysterious XXXVI for the XWF Television Title — and already the masked man is on the move!
BG: He’s got be on the move, Jack! If he wants the belt, he’s gotta take it in the next fifteen minutes!
XXXVI darts across the ring like a streak of light, his boots barely touching canvas before he’s springboarding off the ropes. He whips into a…
SLING BLADE!
…No! Wolf manages to duck under the takedown attempt! As XXXVI lands on his side, Wolf extends to try and trap her opponent to the mat… but XXXVI pops back up instantly, not letting himself linger near Wolf!
JC: XXXVI very intentionally keeping his distance in the ring! Attack, retreat, attack, retreat!
BG: Smart man, Castillo. XXXVI knows you don’t hang around the fire too long or you’re gonna get burned.
Wolf allows a cold and inhuman grin to stretch across her face, before cracking her neck to one side. As XXXVI hops from one foot to the other, Wolf pushes to her feet deliberately, eyes locked on her quick adversary… As she steps forward, he staggers backwards…
JC: XXXVI not interested in letting Wolf’s hands anywhere near his body!
BG: He knows how dangerous Sarah Wolf is, Jack! One grip from Sarah Wolf and your body is going to get BROKEN! Slowly and AGONIZINGLY!
Wolf’s face betrays a little impatience! She speeds up, surging forward…
Grapple attempt!
…DUCKED UNDER!
XXXVI circles around and Wolf thrusts past him, then snaps forward with a spinning backfist!
That clips Wolf on the jaw!
JC: First blow of the match!
BG: Finally, some action!
Wolf’s jaw is rocked… but XXXVI doesn’t let up, immediately following it with a dropkick to Wolf’s knees!
JC: XXXVI trying to take Wolf to the mat here… The submission game is also XXXVI’s bread and butter!
Wolf stumbles, looking like she’s going to drop on her back…
But catches herself on the ropes!
JC: XXXVI throwing everything he can at her! Those strikes are connecting, but Sarah Wolf isn’t showing the kind of hurt you’d expect.
BG: That’s cuz this lady LOVES pain! She loves to receive it… and she really, REALLY loves to dish it out!
13:17
13:16
13:15
As Wolf catches her breath by the ropes, XXXVI continues the attack! He leaps, launching off the ropes!
Springboard moonsa-
WHAM! Wolf, tired of the acrobatic performance, catches XXXVI mid-twist with a BOOT to the gut that drops the mysterious enigma straight to the mat!
JC: WOW! What a strike by Sarah Wolf!
BG: Think she was tired of XXXVI buzzing around like a butterfly so she decided to sting like a bee!
XXXVI crashes down, rolling with the impact to try and stay out of Wolf’s grip!
…But Wolf is already on him — twisting, reaching for his leg, attempting to cinch in the…
Calf Slicer!
BG: Aaand just like that, Wolf’s got her teeth sunk in!
JC: Not where XXXVI wants to be at all!
12:22
12:21
12:20
Wolf snarls as she drags XXXVI to the mat, wrenching his leg at an angle. For a moment, it looks like she has him locked tight — her back brace flexing as she leans into the torque. The crowd roars, half in shock, half in fear of an early ending.
But then — like smoke slipping through a clenched fist — XXXVI wriggles his frame sideways, twisting his body with improbable agility. He kicks free, tumbling into a handspring and landing upright across the ring.
…Wolf looks down at her hands… as if trying to figure out how she just lost her grip… Her lips curl upward again — not disappointed, but intrigued.
JC: Wow! Unbelievable escape by XXXVI! Sarah Wolf was a heartbeat away from crushing XXXVI’s leg, but he’s still alive in this one!
BG: But Wolf is learning his tricks! It’s a matter of time before she catches him and pops his head right off his shoulders!
12:42
12:41
12:40
The two circle once more, locked in a tense stalemate.
Wolf again pounces first, but XXXVI somersaults under! Wolf immediately follows her attack with a boot… But XXXVI rolls to the side to evade the attack!
JC: XXXVI is sticking and moving out there! He’s dodging everything Wolf is throwing at him!
BG: But he ain’t gonna win the TV Title on points like a boxing match, Jack! He’s gotta find a way to get back in this one!
Wolf pounces once more for a takedown!
…But XXXVI leaps over! As Wolf spins around, XXXVI runs up the turnbuckle! Missile dropk-
…NO! Wolf catches the challenger with a dropkick in midair! XXXVI once again eats mat!
JC: Man! I thought XXXVI had it that time!
JC: Sarah Wolf is in TOTAL CONTROL!
XXXVI crashes to the mat, writhing, clutching his gut…
11:32
11:31
11:30
Wolf crawls toward him, her eyes burning with grim delight. She grabs hold of his arms and legs, twisting his body into an unnatural arc with a Spinal Lock. XXXVI howls in anguish, pounding the mat, his masked face contorted in raw pain.
But Wolf doesn’t hold it. She releases — only to snake around, folding him into an Octopus Stretch. She leans back, wrenching his torso, her teeth bared in something between a snarl and a grin. She shakes her head slowly, savoring the sound of his suffering.
JC: Oh geez, c’mon… Wolf’s not even trying to win! She’s torturing her opponent, one hold after another!
BG: This is art to Sarah Wolf. Every scream’s another brush stroke.
Wolf shifts again, this time yanking him into a Kimura Lock, then a Calf Slicer, seamlessly chaining the agony together. Each escape only feeds into another submission, the transitions fluid, cruel, almost elegant. XXXVI’s body writhes like a ragdoll, yet through it all, he never taps, his hand hovering but refusing to fall.
The crowd surges, screaming for XXXVI to keep fighting… As Wolf savors every twitch of his muscles, delights in every spasm as his body slowly breaks under the control…
BG: Wolf is letting the seconds tick by here! She’s in no rush because she knows if the time runs out, she retains!
JC: She’s in no rush because she’s a sadist that gets twisted pleasure off of inflicting pain, Brody!
BG: Little of column A, little of column B. Point being, Wolf’s content spending the rest of her time
9:14
9:13
9:12
XXXVI starts to rotate his hips, preparing the same escape he pulled off earlier to evade Wolf’s submission…
He rolls!
…But this time Wolf keeps her weight down! XXXVI rolls onto his back, and Wolf is on top of him!
JC: Impressive counter to XXXVI’s counter from Wolf!
While he’s still caught, he has managed to move… XXXVI tries to reach for the ropes…
But Wolf reaches down and JAMS ON THE DEVILLOCK! (Mandible Claw)!
JC: This is it! The Devil Lock! This one could be over right now!
BG: She’s got it LOCKED like a vice! She could do ventriloquist work with his jaw is how deep it’s locked in!
The crowd gasps as XXXVI thrashes helplessly, his body arcing in panic.
XXXVI’s arm shakes… He reaches backwards… The official asks if he can continue…
His hand…
…
HIS HAND!
BG: HE’S GONNA TAP!
…
NO!
His hand wraps around the ropes!
The official orders Wolf to break the hold!
JC: Amazing endurance by XXXVI, managing to stay alive a little longer!
BG: But how much physical toll did it take to withstand the Devil Lock for as long as he did!
7:41
7:40
7:39
XXXVI struggles to pull himself up to his feet… First to the bottom, then the middle rope…
The official backs up Wolf until her opponent has released the ropes… But Wolf slips past the official! Just as XXXVI is standing once more, Wolf grabs XXXVI by the face, ready to lock in the Devillock once more!
BG: Yes! Finish him!
XXXVI clings to the rope behind him as Wolf tries to jam her fist down his gullet…
In one last desperate surge, XXXVI pulls his leg free — and snaps it upward. A blinding high kick catches Wolf clean under the chin! She jerks backward, stunned, spinning on her heel.
JC: Whoa! What a strike by XXXVI! A perfect ten kick there!
XXXVI drags himself up to his feet…, roaring through the mask, and seizes Wolf from behind…
HELLACIOUS GERMAN SUPLEX!
JC: Wow! XXXVI takes control! And he’s bridging for the pin! New Television champion!
The referee drops —
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NO!
Wolf’s body jerking violently off the mat.
JC: Wolf is not beaten yet! But a very close call for XXXVI!
BG: Oh God, I almost had a heart attack there… That was too close!
7:01
7:00
6:59
The crowd erupts, torn between disbelief and adoration. Wolf cradles her back, trying to rise off the mat… But XXXVI clings to the momentum, staggering to his feet. He scrambles behind Wolf, seizing her legs and twisting her into position. The crowd erupts as he locks her in the Tiptoe Through the Tulips — the inverted sharpshooter!
JC: He’s got it! XXXVI’s trademark hold — Tiptoe Through the Tulips!
Wolf’s spine bends backward at a grotesque angle, the pressure wrenching her already damaged back. But instead of panic, Wolf’s lips peel back in a feral grin. She breathes in sharply, almost savoring the agony being poured into her body. Her back arches further, trembling with pain that looks… pleasurable.
BG: Look at her, Castillo — she’s lovin’ this! You can’t hurt Sarah Wolf the way you hurt other people. Pain just makes her hungrier!
XXXVI growls through the mask, digging deeper, twisting her legs with more torque.
Wolf’s face contorts into ecstasy…
Until XXXVI reels backwards, planting his back against the mat to swing Wolf upward into a Romero Special, bridging her into the air in a full surfboard stretch!
JC: Incredible move by XXXVI! That is separating Wolf’s shoulder blades is how devastating this move is!
Wolf’s face contorts… Uncomfortable… Like the pain is… for once, overwhelming!
JC: Oh my gosh! XXXVI’s got Wolf is pain! REAL pain!
The crowd roars at the sheer feat of strength and balance…
Wolf’s hands paw through the air, trying to escape… The official asks Wolf if she can continue…
Wolf…
WOLF!
JC: New Television champion!
…Wolf thrashes violently, rolling her weight sideway! Both tumble free, collapsing in a heap on the mat!
BG: Phew! Incredible escape by Sarah Wolf! XXXVI could have put the foot to the throat, but Wolf slipped out like a rat through a drainpipe!
5:45
5:44
5:43
JC: Still plenty of time on the clock… But both these competitors look like they’ve been through an all-out war already!
Indeed, Wolf and XXXVI both stagger to their feet, both exhausted, both desperate.
XXXVI spins for a…
ROUNDHOUSE KICK!
…
NO! Wolf ducks low!
XXXVI’s momentum whirls him around — right into Wolf’s waiting hand!
JC: Oh no… she’s got him!
BG: XXXVI is about to get LXXXVI’d!
…
BG: Cuz LXXXVI is 86 in roman num-
JC: No, yup, I got it, thanks Brody.
Wolf hoists XXXVI into the air and SLAMS him down with a thunderous…
CHOKESLAM!
XXXVI’s back arches violently on impact — and in a seamless, predatory transition, Wolf drops to her knees, jamming her gloved hand deep into his mouth.
DEVIL LOCK! Wolf’s fingers clamping tight around his throat!
JC: Wolf’s got XXXVI in the center of the ring! Devil Lock is locked in! Can XXXVI pull off one more miracle escape!?!
XXXVI thrashes wildly, trying to bridge his shoulders off the mat, his legs kicking, his arms clawing at Wolf’s wrist….
But Wolf forces her palm deeper, her expression twisted in sadistic rapture.
His movements grow weaker…
Slower…
…
Until finally, his body goes limp!
The ref calls for the bell!
WINNER AND STILL XWF TELEVISION CHAMPION: SARAH WOLF!
JC: He’s out! He’s out! Sarah Wolf has put XXXVI to sleep with the Devillock!
Wolf leans back, releasing her grip only after the referee pries her hand away. She sits on her knees, eyes half-lidded, her breath slow and savoring, like she’s consumed something intoxicating. Across from her, XXXVI lies motionless, chest rising in shallow gasp!
JC: A very impressive showing by XXXVI who had brief bursts where it looked like he might pull off winning the Television title! But Sarah Wolf secures another impressive victory and keeps the Television title!
The cameras pans to the COO high up in his luxury suite.
JC: The boss! Seemingly well traveled of late.
BG: Even had stops on Anarchy and that's almost unheard of. The man can't be bothered to oversee Anarchy.
JC: Which is probably why it's in such disarray, but nevertheless, we persist.
Steve Sayors, backstage journalistic ordinaire, no, there's nothing ‘extra’ about him, enters the suite with a microphone in hand.
JC: Steven, what've you got for us?
SS: Thanks Jacuinde. I'm standing by with COO Thaddeus Duke as he watches from above here in Oklahoma City.
Sayors takes a seat next to Thaddeus.
SS: Thad, Justin York has been calling you out for what seems like months. He's challenged you one on one, he's challenged the XWF as a while to a four of four. He cost you a match against Enigma back at Rebellion. More recently you cost him a match at Bedlam in a match against the Big Ticket Harvey Marx at a Valor event.
What's the answer? Will you be accepting these challenges?
Thad smirks, scoffs, then turns to Steve.
”I gave Yorkie my answer some weeks back on Anarchy that I wouldn't accept his challenge. Not because of cowardice like he has tried to claim.
“I dog walked him once. He was a literal thorn in my side for months and months after we met in IIW.
“I finally agreed to face him on neutral territory for the Denzel Porter Invitational and I beat him in seven minutes without breaking a sweat.
“Where's the draw?”
”Moreover, Thad, he also…”
”Perhaps I'm reconsidering…”
”You're really gonna leave us hangin’ on that one?”
Thad grins.
”Yes.”
”And the four on four challenge that would potentially see four from Pro Wrestling Valor come to Relentless and face four of our XWFers?”
”I have no ill will toward Valor or their roster. In fact, there’s a wide number of folks over there that either personally or professionally I have a ton of respect for.
“Carve it in stone, Steve. The XWF accepts the challenge for Relentless.”
”Is it possible you could tell us…”
”XWF legend Blizzard, former Universal Champion Charlie Nickles, multi-time everything champion Isaiah King- if that is his real name- and the bestie of besties, current 24/7 briefcase holder, Sebastian Everett-Bryce the thirrrrrrd.”
”Uhhhh… That's um. He dropped the third from his name.”
”I know but I do what I want.”
”Last question, and it's a big one… Rumors are swirling that you…”
”Yes, I'm leaving the big chair officially at Relentless. I gave a year of myself when I had an interest in anything but running this company.”
JC: oof.
BG: Wait is he for real?
JC: Yeah, I heard that rumor too.
BG: *siiiiigh*
SS: There you have it folks, straight from the horse's mouth. The four versus four pitting Valor against the XWF is officially greenlit for Relentless!
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 at Kroger Field erupted as you heard the commentator's reaction as well.
JC: Here they come, the fan favorites of the XWF's tag-team division! The American Storm!
Smoke emanated from the stage, completely covering as you weren't able to see anything through it and before you knew it, Razor Blade and Latoya Hixx are seen walking through the smoke! A big smile on Blade’s face as the crowd erupted even louder at the sight of the American Nightmare and the Storm.
JC: Say what you will about The American Storm: but be careful, because tonight, they're planning to make you EAT THOSE WORDS! With a #1 contendership to the XWF tag-team championships on the line here tonight, you can bet the bank that The American Storm are going to give it all they got!
BG: But will that be enough, Jacko?! They're going against some of the best in the business tonight!
''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: At XWF Rebellion the American Storm almost won a #1 contender’s match for the Anarchy Tags, but through screwery and shenanigans, they were robbed of the victory! But here tonight, they have a chance to right that wrong and earn their shot at the REAL tag-team championships!
BG: The REAL tag-team championships?! Don't let Them No Good Bastards hear you say that!
''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.
The opening guitar riff the Deftones’ “Kimdracula” hits the arena speakers as multicolored lights pour over the crowd. The lights slowly rotate color in a mesmerizing, psychedelic fashion as the camera pans over the excited crowd. They stand and cheer, partially excited to be on television but also excited because they know that this music signifies that they’re about to be in the presence of an XWF Legend.
Our view shifts to the entrance walkway, which is now blocked by a large pane of glass. On the glass, a name is painted:
THE TRIBE
The viewer only has a moment to take in the glass before the glass explodes towards the camera as a foot kicks through and explodes the whole display!
The crowd erupts in a huge pop.
Aidan Collins is here with Solomon Kline!
The two are decked out in their custom ring gear, putting on a show for the fans. The each make their own moves down the ramp, slapping hands and showing off!
Kline rolls under the ropes whole Collins walks up the ring steps and walks down the apron to the center of the ring. He points out to the crowd before folding his arms in front of himself, giving the crowd ample time to pop off photos with their cell phones.
Aidan enters the ring through the middle rope. He shakes the ring official’s hand, now ready for the contest to begin.
JC: And here come THE TRIBE! One of the most dynamic and exciting tag-teams in the XWF, these two are finally getting their chance to square off for the most prestigious belts in all of tag-team wrestling!
BG: But first, they're going to have make it through THE STORM!
JC: Ain't that right, Brody! These two tag-teams are rip-roaring and ready for action tonight!
BG: With everything on the line, which one of these tag-teams is going to walk out of Warfare with a Road to Relentless paved in championship gold?!
JC: Stay tuned to find out!
Solomon Kline & Aidan Collins
- vs -
Razor Blade & Latoya Hixx 1 Collab/4k
Winners Challenge Tag Champions @ Relentless
DING! DING! DING!
Collins and Hixx start the match off in the ring, with Kline and Blade posted up outside the ropes. As Hixx begins approaching Collins with vicious intent, Aidan simply drops down to one knee....and pulls out a small little box!
BG: Wait...what the hell is going on, Jacko'?!
JC: Well, Aidan Collins DID say he wanted to marry Latoya Hixx in his most recent vignette- but I thought he was simply joking!
BG: This proposal doesn't look like a laughing matter to me!
Kline visibly facepalms from his corner as Latoya Hixx looks downright perplexed by this odd gesture. Aidan remains on one knee, pledging his undying love towards Latoya....but I guess she must've gotten the 'ick', because she simply slaps the small box right out of Aidan's hands! Then, Latoya hits the ropes! The box soars across the ring, flying open from the force of the contact!
The diamond ring flies out of the box, just as Latoya Hixx is flying across the ring!
One lucky fan in the front row wins a new engagement ring, while Collins wins a running forearm smash right to the temple!
Collins goes from down on one knee, to just being down!
BG: What a rookie mistake from the XWF vet! You should never let a woman get between you and victory- not even a woman as fine as Mrs. Hixx!
JC: He wanted to marry her, Brody, and we can't blame him for taking his shot!
BG: But can we blame him for letting her take so many shots on him?!
JC: Well...
Latoya Hixx follows up with a slew of kicks to her downed opponent, before she herself drops down to the mat! She hits Collins with a big elbow before mounting him and attempting a rear naked choke! As Latoya straddles Collins from the top, Aidan fights off the chokehold, then throws an elbow back towards Hixx that causes her to lose her grip!
Aidan Collins and Latoya Hixx wrestle on the ground, each angling for position, as Kline and Blade try to get the audience to rally behind their respective partners. Collins and Hixx wrestle around on the mat until "Blizzard" is able to gain a dominant position! Aidan gets into full guard with Hixx, and then looks down at her with a sultry smile.
JC: I think Aidan Collins is enjoying this wrestling match a little too much!
Aidan goes to throw a big elbow- but Latoya Hixx is faster! She lashes out with a jab from the bottom that catches Collins off guard, and forces him off her! Latoya quickly scrambles to her feet, running right towards the ropes before bouncing off them and hitting Collins with a dropkick that keeps him pinned down!
Latoya Hixx makes the cover!
1!
KICKOUT!!!!
Collins blasts Hixx off of him, then dives to his corner to make the hot tag to Kline!
JC: Aidan makes the tag!
BG: Here comes the big dog, Solomon Kline! He's here to lay the hammer down, Jacko!
Kline steps into the ring, where Latoya Hixx is waiting for him....but for some reason, Solomon doesn't seem so sure! Hixx bares a nasty snarl towards Kline, but Solomon just circles around the ring- not engaging her at all!
BG: Wait, what's going on now?!
JC: I think Solomon is afraid to hit a woman!
BG: But he's fought women before! He's fought plenty of women before!
Solomon's nervousness doesn't stop once Hixx charges him! Instead of clipping Hixx with a blow, Solomon just sidesteps her, ducking under her lariat! Hixx looks mad at the disrespect, and tells Solomon to 'come get some!' - but Solomon still isn't feeling up to it!
Solomon ducks under another blow from Hixx, and then another! It looks like they're playing a game of tag in the ring, and Hixx just can't get a hold of him!
Aidan Collins is going ballistic in The Tribe's corner, screaming at Solomon to "SMACK THAT BROAD!".
After some light encouragement from his partner, Solomon finally engages! Kline ducks under another haymaker from Hixx, then...he pushes her back into her corner with half-force!
Latoya looks pissed off, and she steps out from her corner....
But only after Razor Blade has tagged himself in!
JC: And Razor makes the tag! Latoya doesn't seem happy about it, but she doesn't have the choice!
BG: Finally, the showdown we all paid to see! BLADE VS KLINE!
The crowd gets electric as Razor Blade and Solomon Kline square off inside the ring! Kline and Blade both charge with a full-head of steam. Blade lashes out with a lariat, but Kline ducks under it. When Klines bounces off the ropes, he comes charging back towards Blade, taking him out with a lariat of his own!
But Blade doesn't stay down for long. The pure athlete kips up almost immediately, much to the surprise of Kline! Blade quickly fires back with a liver-punch that causes Kline to keel over, then, Blade brings Kline down to the mat with a quick snap DDT! Blade covers Kline for the pin!
1!
KLINE KICKS OUT WITH A RIGHTEOUS FURY!
Blade tries to keep Kline grounded with a few big elbows after the kick-out, but Kline won't have it! Kline gets back to his feet, and starts to look for a tag.....but his partner is nowhere to be found!
BG: Where is Aidan Collins?!
That's when you see Aidan standing over in The American Storm's corner, chatting up "The Storm" herself!
JC: It looks like he's trying to wife up Latoya Hixx- and if her smiling face is any indication, his 'rizz' is working!
Kline barks at Collins to focus, but Collins just yells for Kline to 'DUCK'!
And duck Kline does!
Right beneath a running forearm from Blade-
But Blade can't stop his momentum-
AND HE RUNS RIGHT INTO LATOYA HIXX, KNOCKING HER OFF THE APRON- AND OUT COLD!
BG: Blade just took out his own tag-team partner, all for talking to another guy!!!
JC: I'm pretty sure that's not what happened, Brody!
Collins looks pissed! He was just cockblocked by Razor Blade!
Collins steps into the ring, despite the protests from the referee. Blade backs away from Collins, demanding that he leave the ring and follow the rules- but it's no use!
Aidan grabs a hold of Razor Blade before putting his opponent in the ripcord position, then Kline hits the Ashes to Ashes forearm smash and then Aidan transitions into the Hell’s Kaleidoscope ripcord spinning lariat; Aidan slingshots opponent into Kline’s Ashes to Ashes forearm smash; Aidan top-rope double stomp into Kline’s Dust to Dust Vertebreaker; Kline slingshots opponent into Aidan’s Ice Pick spear; Kline lifts opponent into power bomb position and then Aidan hits a top rope Ice Pick!
BG: HOLY SHIT, JACKO! THAT WAS A LOT OF STUFF!
JC: Aidan Collins and Solomon Kline! Now that's a tag-team signature move if I've ever seen one!
The referee screams for Aidan Collins to leave the ring, and he finally does- but does it even matter anymore?! Solomon Kline hooks Razor's leg for the pin!
1!
2!!
3!!!
WINNERS & NEW #1 CONTENDERS TO THE XWF TAG-TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS - THE TRIBE
When we return from commercial break, both Kieran King and Isaiah King are in the ring, ready to go!
JC: This one could absolutely steal the show tonight, Brody!
BG: You ain' kiddin', Jacko! We have a two-time Universal champion in Isaiah King AND the current TWO-time King of the XWF in Kieran King! This match is EXPLODING with talent!
As both men are in the ring, ready to begin, suddenly the entire arena is interrupted.
JC: What is this?
Bobby Bourbon and Mark Flynn both walk out bedecked in noticeably cheap suits. Bobby is carrying a table, and Mark has a case of some sort.
BG: What are they doing here?
The fans roar at the turn of events they're witnessing.
BB: Oklahoma City, we interrupt your regularly scheduled match this evening and bring you something completely different!
MF: What I believe Bobby is trying to say is we are exploiting rule 226.32.67a, which notes if a second party comes out onto the stage after the competitors have come out for a match, if the party of the second part are wearing a suit and/or suits, they, the party of the second part, may alter the stipulations of said match!
JC: What? That's a rule?
BG: I mean, it happens at a wrestling show somewhere daily, Jackie.
BB: Frankly, your corporate overlords have stunk like butts at giving you, the fans, the action you deserve.
MF: So we are substituting our own action here this evening!
BB: Correct. However, as active competitors, there is a clause that states we can not be suits changing matches!
Both Mark and Bobby reach into their pockets.
JC: Brody, rule 226.32.67a clearly states no active competitors may put on a suit to do what Bobby and Mark are doing! It’s a wrestling stadium parking regulation!
BG: That’s not them, it's Christopher K. Clinton, Esq., and Albert Poppinfresh, P.I., Jackie.
The camera returns to see the quite falsely mustachioed Clinton and Poppinfresh.
CKC: Oklahoma City, we are here to announce Revolutionary Entertainment!
AP: We, as representatives of representatives of the Revolution…
CKC: And explicitly anti-King… More specifically, Kings that run around attacking their own subjects!
Kieran: THIS IS BULLSHIT. From inside the ring, Kieran explodes angrily, sensing a fix is in!
CKC: Awwww, Kiwi’s mad he’s not fighting a helpless manager this week… Did anybody here vote for Kieran King?
Some mild buzz from the anti-mainstream, puro wrestling crowd!
CKC: Anybody here a fan of DOLLY WATERS?
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
CKC: Sounds like another referendum to me, Kickles!
…Kieran stews angrily.
CKC: You’re not wrong tho… Rule 2226.32.67a? That’s… a fun little bit. We can’t actually come out here and declare a new stipulation for your match based on some pre-exisitng rule about interruptions.
JC: Phew, okay, good, some order out here!
CKC: Contracts, however? That’s a different story!
JC: …What?
CKC: See… I, as Christopher K. Clinton, Esquire… the official litigator of the Revolution… I briefly had a chance to review Dolly Waters’ new contract… which includes significant provisions to create a NEW WRESTLING UNION!
The crowd pops!
…
CKC: But also!
…CKC’s hand weaves through the air.
CKC: I added a little… sub-clause… that the XWF Board signed… either without reading… OR they’re okay with the Revolution setting the stipulation for Kieran King’s next match!
JC: No way!
CKC: It’s all there! Black-and-white! Clear as crystal!
[bobby]AP: YOU STOLE FIZZY LIFTING DRINKS!
CKC: …Nope, doesn’t… the rest of the monologue doesn’t apply here.
AP: Oh.
…
AP: ANYWAY! As we were saying… We, as representatives of representatives of the Revolution… are hereby changing the stipulations of this match to be King versus King in a Chessling Match!
The crowd goes absolutely bananas at the mention of a Chessling match!
JC: Brody, we haven't seen a Chess Wrestling match since Bobby Bourbon and Mark Flynn squared off in one for the Universal Championship!
BG: And it looks like we're watching it from backstage.
Bobby Albert shoos the announce team away so he and his compatriot can take over, almost as though he does this a lot.
CKC: Alright, XWF viewing audience, we are now broadcasting.
AP: Neither competitor was expecting a Chess Wrestling match here tonight, Clinton.
CKC: They were not, Albert!
Kieran continues to vocalize his intense displeasure… Until Zay calls him out for whining about the rule change, telling him ‘LET’S GO ALREADY’... Kieran begrudgingly obliges!
CKC: Isaiah, clearly more okay with last-minute changes… He’s just eager to beat Kieran’s face off his skull!
AP: I bet Isaiah being from New York knows a lot of those old guys that play chess in the park.
*ding*ding*ding*
Isaiah King
- vs -
Kieran King NEW STIP: Chess Wrestling!
Five Minute Alternating Rounds: Five minutes of wrestling, followed by five minutes of chess…ling. Either competitor may win by pinfall, submission or checkmate
Both Kings tie up!
Kieran switches to a rear waistlock, and transitions to a rear double leg take down!
Kieran maneuvers to a headlock, but Isaiah transitions and gets his feet underneath him
Isaiah transitions to a hammerlock!
Kieran with a back elbow, and another, and sets in a drop toe hold, taking Isaiah to the mat!
CKC: Kieran avoiding a stand up fight with Isaiah, limiting a lot of Isaiah's boxing acumen!
AP: This is the XWF Clinton, home of the best wrestlers in the world, and these men are among the best of the best, though Isaiah is a putz and I'm glad we're ruining his day.
CKC: Well, Kieran recently attacked Schism, Al.
AP: What? All we did was make him chessle? I should be dislocating his organs right now!
CKC: SIT DOWN ALBERT.
Kieran sets in a reverse armbar, but Isaiah leverages into position so Kieran has no torque!
Isaiah pivots and rolls Kieran onto his shoulders!
1..
2..
Kieran rolls out of the pin, moving to grab a leg, and he sets in a knee bar!
Isaiah rotates, and reverses the leverage, and delivers the heel of his boot to Kieran's solar plexus!
Another boot from Isaiah to Kieran!
Kieran releases the leg, and Isaiah is to his feet!
Kieran refuses to stand!
Isaiah beckons for Kieran, but Kieran attempts to kick at the legs of Isaiah from the ground!
CKC: This is the human chess match of wrestling at play, Albert.
AP: Whatever, shouldn't one of these guys have smashed the other with a cool move or a weapon by now?
CKC: Right, Albert, why use finesse and tact when you can brute force a result, especially one you don't expect!
Isaiah with a standing elbow drop!
NO!
Kieran rolls out of the way!
Isaiah is back to his feet quickly, and drops another elbow!
NO!
Kieran rolls aside again!
Isaiah back to his feet, and the bell rings!
CKC: Well, fans, that signals the end of round 1, and we go into the first round of chess!
AP: It would be terrible if someone hit the other with the chess board.
CKC: We went with a plain cardboard board tonight, Al, I think we all remember how the last Chessling match ended.
AP: Yeah, we do. It's why I insisted on cardboard.
Both Isaiah and Kieran sit at a table ringside where a chessboard has been set up.
CKC: And now for the most exciting part of chess wrestling… The chess part! Kieran is white, tonight, and Isaiah is black.
AP: Woah, Clinton, I don't know why we're even bringing that up, sounds like you're spelling “America” with a “K” tonight.
CKC: Albert, um, I meant what pieces they were using on the chessboard.
AP: Oh. I mean, sure, of course.
Kieran opens, sliding his pawn to E4.
Isaiah with his pawn to E6.
Kieran with a pawn to D4.
Isaiah wifh a pawn to D5.
Knight to C3 from Kieran.
Isaiah with his kingside Knight to F6.
Kieran goes Bishop, King side, to G5.
CKC: PURE EXHILARATION ON THE EIGHT BY EIGHT!
AP: They are playing the shit out of some chess here on Warfare, Clinton!
CKC: Nuance and purpose taking stage!
AP: But this is Xtreme Chessling!
Bobby Albert gets up from the announce booth and goes to the chess table. He randomly plops two bishops down on the table!
Kieran looks at the added pieces, baffled, as does Isaiah.
They simply remove them.
CKC: You had two extra bishops?
[Bobbh]AP: Look, some of us like it spicy.[/bobby]
Isaiah with his Queenside bishop to E7.
Kieran slides his pawn to E5.
Isaiah goes with the knight he just moved to D7.
Kieran slides his pawn to H4.
Isaiah, Bishop takes Bishop at G5.
Pawn takes Bishop at G5 from H4.
Queen takes Pawn at G5.
CKC: And the black queen is in play!
[Bobbh]AP: I wanted to get RuPaul here for when you said that.[/bobby]
CKC: Too bad.
RuPaul and a bunch of Drag Race All Stars are seen ringside, waving at the camera.
CKC: You son of a bitch.
AP: My mother is a saint, shut your whore mouth.
Clinton stands, furious.
White Queen to D3.
Poppinfresh stands, glaring down at Clinton.
Knight to C6.
Clinton glares up at Poppinfresh, reaching for his mustache.
Knight to F3.
Poppinfresh reaches for his mustache.
Black Queen to G6.
RuPaul beckons to the wild crowd, enthralled by the Chessling Exhibition on display.
A pack of capitalist MAGA dopes stand up, insulting the whole proceedings.
RuPaul flicks them off!
Isaiah and Kieran look disgusted by the notion they were there!
Christopher K. Clinton and Albert Poppinfresh turn to the crowd and head towards the kerfuffle.
White Queen takes Black Queen at G6.
Black pawn takes White Queen at G6.
Clinton punches a man with a MAGA hat in the throat!
Albert gorilla presses some doofus in a Confederate Flag shirt, then hurls them from the stands down to the concrete 20 feet below.
White Knight to B5.
King to E7.
White Knight takes pawn at C7.
The united XWF Universe watches as two kings step around another, playing their games, as two knights make their move and defend the universe.
The bell tolls! The round ends!
Kieran and Isaiah step from the chessboard and watch what is happening in the stands.
A portly man wearing a swastika t-shirt rushes at Clinton, who ducks as Albert catches him, hoisting him up and dropping him with a spinebuster as Clinton hits a Codebreaker. A member of the Westboro Baptist Church steps forward, getting taken to Dick Kick City by Clinton as Alber chokeslams them from the upper deck to below. A Neo Nazi rushes the tandem, eating an uppercut from Albert as Clinton hits a Blue Thunder Bomb. Albert chuckles at the Blue Thunder Bomb, and boots the next MAGA and delivers an absolute gimmick infringing Bobbybomb to the dude onto the metal rail along the stairs. Jaquinde and Brody walk back out onto the stage.
JC: Fans, this is a two for one spectacle…
BG: Don't speak too soon!
Isaiah and Kieran both step over the barricade, and move up towards the brawl Mark and Bobby engaged in up in the stands.
Mark with a kick to the groin of some monstrous fan that dwarves Bobby.
Bobby plants them with a Richter Spike.
JC: The Xtreme Champion getting nasty on Warfare!
BG: His match is next!
Mark and Isaiah both hoist a fat MAGA, and Kieran nails a superkick to him!
Bobby hoists a fat Maga, and Mark, Isaiah, and Kieran all dropkick him!
The unruly fans are subdued!
Mark, Bobby, Kieran, and Isaiah all stand tall, absorbing the sound of the universe appreciating them.
The bell tolls.
Kieran and Isaiah rush back to the chess table as Clinton and Albert readjust their mustaches.
Thunder Knuckles appears, he begins beating the piss out of MAGA fans trying to start a ruckus.
Schism shows up with a scythe, and cracks a MAGA jaw with the handle.
The XWF fans sing to the MAGA group, broken, bloodied, and punted from the arena by XWF talent.
“Sha na nana”
“NA NA NAH NAH”
“HEY HEY HEY”
“GOOD BYE!”
Isaiah and Kieran can't even sit.
Albert Poppinfresh joins Thunder Knuckles for no reason and attempts to tell the crowd that Isaiah and Kieran matter now, because even No Good Bastards know a match worth watching. Bobby and TK are joined by Mark. Bobby, TK, and Mark all stand in the Mezzanine of the Paycom Center. Finally, both Kings set to finish their game of chess, knowing an entire Revolution ensured their match was fair considering they were, after all, three knights.
Black Rook to B8.
White Knight to B5.
Knight to B6.
Pawn to C3.
Black Bishop to D7.
AP: COULD HAVE HAD A SECOND BISHOP!
CKC: Of course you would.
AP: Jesus, you act like I have nothing to say when I can keep a secret. Wanna know a secret about Michael Graves, who stole my van, was a creep with it, left me to hear about…
CKC: Then there was chess!
White Kingside Bishop to D3.
Black moves their rook from B8 to F8.
CKC: Zay bringing his rooks to the party… They both look menacing on the King-side.
White long-castles! O-O-O!
CKC: Great control on display by Kieran, securing the King on the opposite side of those rooks!
Black pawn a6.
CKC: Threatening the knight…
Knight d6!
CKC: And Kieran plants that knight deep in Black’s territory, secured by that pawn on e5!
…
CKC: Separately, my co-commentator and… the man with a win over me at chess wrestling. Has fallen asleep watching the chess.
AP: *zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*
DING DING! The round ends!
The two opponents look very ready to be done with chess, immediately grappling each other!
Isaiah surprises Kieran with a fireman’s carry, dropping him onto his back, transitioning into a head-scissors!
Kieran quickly rotates his hips, wheelbarrowing Isaiah on his back!
1!
2!
Isaiah kicks out!
CKC: Both these men are on the attack! Clearly both men do not want a third chess section!
Isaiah backwards-somersaults onto his feet. Kieran charges forward…
WHAM! Knee life catches Kieran under the chin! Kieran’s legs go all jelly!
CKC: Fantastic counter by Isaiah King!
Kieran backs into the ropes… Isaiah secures him in a front facelock!
Suplex!
…But Isaiah clinches on, dragging Kieran up off his feet!
ANOTHER SUPLEX!
CKC: Two back-to-back suplexes! Is Isaiah going for a third?
Isaiah rotates his hips off the mat, clinching onto Kieran…
He points, indicating he’s going for the trip-
WHAM! Kieran reverses it! Vertical suplex!
CKC: Where the hell does Kieran King find the gas to counter like that? Too good.
Kieran rotates Isaiah off the mat…
And suplexes him again!
The crowd cheers begging for a third… Kieran scoops his hand around his ear, as if trying to hear what they’re saying…
CKC: They want a third suplex, Kiki!
…Kieran nods as if he gets it.
…
Then shoves Isaiah away! The crowd boos!
CKC: Ohmigod, what an asshole. Kieran literally refusing to complete the triple just because the fans want it!
Isaiah falls back toward the ropes… Kieran aims a boot to the chin!
But Isaiah ducks under!
Kieran spins around as Isaiah bounces off the ropes, rotating…
KING’S VERDICT! (Discus punch!)
CKC: Oh shit! For the first time in a calendar year, we might see Kieran King OUT! The ultimate hunter, Isaiah King, just STRUCK!
…Isaiah crawls across the ring, going to hook the leg!
ONE!
TW-DING!
CKC: Saved by the bell!
AP: …mmmmm, wha happen?
CKC: You missed the wrestling, Albert. Thankfully, we have MORE CHESS!
AP: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
…Isaiah snorts angrily, before crawling back to his chair.
…Kieran rubs his jaw, shaking off cobwebs… Crawling back to his seat…
Black Rook to F4!
CKC: Isaiah is on the attack!
…Kieran blinks at the board, seeing double after Isaiah’s punch…
…Pawn to g31
CKC: What!?! Kieran just left his knight hanging! The eval bar just shifted heavy for black!
…Isaiah smiles in disbelief.
Rook takes knight!
Kieran rubs his head, like he’s fighting off a hangover.
Bishop takes pawn on g6!
CKC: Kieran refusing to go the attack, offering his bishop for a rook!
Isaiah ignores the distraction, taking the pawn on f2 with his rook!
CKC: And the king is pinned on the back rank!
Bishop takes the other pawn in front of the rook!
CKC: Gutsy… Now, if Kieran moves the bishop, his rook is at risk!
Black knight to C4!
CKC: Isaiah is on the attack!
Kieran… ignores the threat, taking the pawn on c7!
CKC: That knight takes that free pawn!
Black moves his Rook to b8!
Immediately, White retreats his Knight to c5!
And Rook takes the pawn on b2!
CKC: Oh my! Isaiah has BOTH rooks on that b-file! Kieran has to play this very carefully if he wants to escape…
Isaiah is laser-focused on the board… Calculating every sequence that could take him to checkmate…
Kieran exhales impatiently…
Briefly, his eyes scan upwards…
…He delays…
CKC: Kieran has to make real estate for his king to move… or it’s mate-in-one for Isaiah!
…Delays still.
…Delays further still!
CKC: MAKE A MOVE, KIKI!
Kieran exhales impatiently.
…Suddenly, Bishop to g8!
CKC: WHAT THE?!? KIERAN JUST HUNG MATE-IN-ONE!
Isaiah’s eyes widen. His hand rushes to delivers checkm-
WHAM! Kieran lifts himself from his chair, delivering a knee to Isaiah’s jaw…
CKC: Hey! We’re still on the chess part of chess wrestling!
Kieran scoops himself over the board, clinging to Isaiah’s face!
UGLY ON THE OUTSIDE THROUGH THE CHESS TABLE!
…The official admonishes Kieran…
Kieran holds up a finger…
…
DING DING!
And the chess round’s over…
CKC: ....ohhhhh. I think Kieran intentionally bungled his last few moves trying to draw Isaiah's hunter-like focus to the chessboard away from the timer... And Kieran waited until seconds before the round changes to strike! Disgusting lack of sportsmanship! But... admittedly, very effective!
AP: …wuh happen? Are we at the wrestling part again?
CKC: You missed it, it happened during the chess part.
With the wrestling part resumed, Kieran hooks Isaiah’s leg!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER: KIERAN KING
B L A C K.
The speakers erupt with distorted violins and a droning, percussive march—less music, more migraine. It gnaws at the eardrums, drawing out a wave of panic-screams and jeers from the crowd before the vocals even begin.
And then—
MARAETH’S voice splits the void:
"…NOW WE BECOME DEATH…"
"…THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS…"
♫ GO BACK TO SLEEP! ♫
CUT TO: THE STAGE.
A Perfect Circle’s Counting Bodies Like Sheep floods the arena, rhythm like blunt trauma—unyielding, brutal, hypnotic. Strobing white light bleeds through clouds of machine fog. Smoke billows like a fire waiting to engulf. A lone spotlight punches down, center stage.
♫ Don't fret precious, I'm here ♫
♫ Step away from the window
♫ And go… BACK TO SLEEP ♫
FROM BELOW—
MARAETH.
Their body rises through the haze like something that should not return. Painted in bruised purples and cosmic ash, Their form is muscular, elegant, and uncanny—what appears to be black ring gear clings to Them in jagged asymmetry, though murmurs persist that it’s body paint, applied with impossible precision. Their right side is overtaken by twisted, rootlike textures that resemble armor grown from inside Them. Their grin is too wide. Their eyes—unnatural, glowing—refuse to look away. And at the center of Their chest, nestled just above the sternum, sits a painted third eye, violet and closed. Watching. Or pretending to.
♫ COUNT BODIES LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ LIKE SHEEP ♫
♫ COUNTING BODIES LIKE SHEEP TO THE RHYTHM OF WAR DRUMS ♫
They descend the ramp like a puppet that chewed through its strings—shoulders twitching, head cocked, joints moving in gleefully incorrect directions. One step. A twitch. Another step. A sideways skip. Then laughter—sharp, sudden, wrong. It bursts from Their mouth like They didn’t mean to make it, then keeps coming anyway.
At ringside, They drop to Their belly and slither under the rope, dragging Themself across the mat with lazy fingers, like They’re bored of gravity. Reaching center, They rise to Their knees, then bend backward—slow, too far, too eager—until Their spine curves like a lie told one too many times.
Then They snap forward, mouth wide, throat open, and scream.
It isn’t pain. It isn’t rage.
It’s something older. Something delighted.
And as the echo hangs in the rafters, They giggle softly to Themself—grinning with that Spiral-shaped smile, like They know something you’re too scared to ask. The lights flash. The air clenches. And The bell hasn’t even rung.
The lights in the arena go deep blue as smoke fills the air. Pink and silver laser lights cut through the smoke and it looks fucking rad.
As Bobby's music blares throughout the arena, slowly walking out onto the entrance ramp is Bobby Bourbon. He looks out at the crowd in the arena, cold and stoic, surveying his surroundings. He stops and raises his fists at 45 degree angles, and continues his deliberate plod towards the ring. He raises both arms outward, accepting fives, slaps, daps, knucks, and touches as he does. He looks on into the ring, feeling the energy of every fan he makes contact with. He stops, and begins stomping in place, with the utmost joy to be in front of the XWF crowd. He stops a camera.
"I'm a bad, bad man, but like my home, the XWF, I have plenty of bad, bad fans!"
Bobby climbs the steps, then climbs the nearest ring post half way and raises his fists at 45 degree angles. The lights go back to normal and the music stops. The fans in attendance all echo their sentiments for the match.
JC: Godzilla v. Mothera. Frankenstein v. The Wolf Man. Jason v. Freddy… Bobby Bourbon v. Maraeth.
BG: I get what you’re trying to do, Jack, but I’ve got to disagree. Bobby Bourbon is a monster, for sure, but he’s one of those monsters you can rally behind.
Like a monster truck! Gravedigger. baby!
This Maraeth doesn’t really know anything about the world of pain she’s about to enter. If Yelena Gorgo thinks she can just dye her hair black, throw in some new contact lenses and turn off the lights more, and that make her a monster, then she’s in a world of trouble here!
JC: I think you’re missing the point, Brody… that’s not Yelena Gorgo?
BG: Pfft! Okay! Then where’s Gorgo at exactly? Still lying in a puddle of vomit at Coreytopia? Of course that’s Gorgo!
JC: The ways she sounds, Brody. The way she moves. That’s anyone other than the Yelena Gorgo we knew.
The bell rings, and these two monsters come nose-to-nose…
Bobby Bourbon a full 4 inches taller than Maraeth, but her stature impressive none the less.
Bobby stares her down. Like he’s murdering her soul with a hatchet. And Maraeth doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t blink. It’s almost like you can hear a gust of wind ripping between them like an old western flick. Not taking his eyes off of her, Bobby wastes no time… slowly, deliberately removing one shoulder strap, and then the other and then— MARAETH THROWS AN ELBOW!
It cracks Bobby right in the jaw.
But only his head moves. His feet remain planted in the center of the mat. He turns his head back slowly, a cold, unfazed look in his eyes. And for just a split second even, Maraeth looks as though she’s realizing that she might not have fully understood just what she’s up against.
But that terrified contemplation evaporates nearly as quickly as it appeared. Her face snarls- she spins and hits a judo kick to Bobby’s quad- then ANOTHER ELBOW
BUT BOBBY CATCHES IT WITH BOTH HANDS!
He shoves Maraeth forward and she falls back on her rear.
The crowd goes crazy, as Bobby slowly, deliberately steps over her. He reaches down, grabbing her by the ears, using his incredible strength to lift her from the mat, but Maraeth is squirming, growling, using her muscle to try and break free from this head-squisher hold he’s got her in. She kicks Bobby right in the stomach, and though you can tell it hurt him, he still wont let go- NOT UNTIL THE SECOND KICK!
Bobby drops his clutch on Maraeth’s skull. She steadies herself on her feet and hits the ropes, running in with the elbow strike this time! But Bobby counters, a well timed back body drop puts Maraeth on the mat. Bobby immediately drops and mounts her, but Maraeth is strong, she rolls Bobby onto his back and proceeds to attack with some strikes. Bobby eats a few, but they don’t seem to do much damage- now he’s rolling Maraeth over. He digs his fingertips into the fat flesh of her face and rakes down- leaving streaks of welts.
His other hand is grabbing a handful of hair and he yanks Maraeth back up to a standing position. He walks her to the corner of the ring- thrashing and whiplashing her head along the way. Once the reach the corner, Maraeth’s face is introduced to the top turnbuckle pad- only she catches herself with her arms on the ropes- she sends an elbow back into Bobby’s stomach area- but before it can connect, Bobby has connected over her back with a big clubbing blow.
Bobby hammers down with that clubbing shot, the sound like wet lumber cracking against meat. Maraeth lurches forward but clings to the ropes, refusing to be folded. Bobby grabs her by the waist and launches her with a German Suplex, her body snapping off the canvas like a crash test dummy.
JC: Good lord, what a throw! Bobby Bourbon nearly put her through the mat!
BG: You don’t out-muscle Bobby Bourbon, you just pray you survive him!
Bobby doesn’t let her breathe. He’s already on her, grabbing Maraeth by the ankle and dragging her across the mat like a carcass, straight out under the bottom rope. The crowd surges as Bobby steps out after her, lifting her up by the hair.
And then….
MARAETH SNATCHES A WATER BOTTLE FROM A FAN AND BREAKS IT ACROSS HIS FACE.
Plastic and water explode everywhere! Bobby staggers, blinded, but not really harmed
JC: that was resourceful!
BG: That’s theft! Somebody get that fan a new Aquafina!
With Bobby reeling, Maraeth drives her shin up into his gut with a sickening oblique kick, doubling him over. She hooks him by the neck, JUDO THROW ON THE FLOOR!
Bobby’s mass crashes against the ringside padding, but the thud echoes anyway. Pure, blunt trauma.
Maraeth doesn’t waste a second. She rolls under the apron and pulls out a steel chair… a kendo stick… and finally a bag. She tosses the stick and chair into the ring but clutches that bag like a prize.
Bobby is stirring, crawling up on all fours. Maraeth slams the bag down in front of him, opens it and… a cascade of LEGOS spill out onto the arena floor!!!!
BG: Oh for god’s sake! This is XTreme Rules, not Kindergarten!
JC: Have you ever stepped barefoot on a Lego, Brody? That’s a death sentence right there.
Maraeth grabs Bobby by the neck, trying to drag him toward the pile, but Bobby’s sheer size anchors him. He fires back with a big gut punch, then another, and suddenly—Bobby hooks Maraeth!
BIG BOY TOSS STRAIGHT INTO THE LEGOS!
The crowd erupts as Maraeth writhes in agony, tiny bricks embedded in her skin. Bobby, breathing heavy, snatches the steel chair from the apron and raises it high, and…
CRACK! across her back.
Another CRACK! The chair bends in his hands.
But Maraeth… laughs, agonizingly so, but a laugh nonetheless.
She rolls over, eyes wide and wild, blood mixing with sweat, and beckons him in.
JC: Look at that! She’s smiling! Maraeth is asking for more punishment!
BG: That ain’t courage, Jack, that’s lunacy! She’s not human!
Bobby snarls, tossing the chair aside, and pulls Maraeth up…
RICHTER SPIKE!!!!
Right on the Lego pile!
The arena damn near explodes.
He covers—
1!
2!!
…MARAETH KICKS OUT!
JC: Nobody kicks out of the Richter Spike on Lego bricks!
BG: Well she just did, and I don’t like what that means for Bobby Bourbon!
Bobby’s eyes widen. He’s muttering to himself now, shaking his head. He rips the kendo stick from the ring, snapping it across his knee to test its bend. He stalks her.
But Maraeth surges back up, staggering forward, and- - -
SNAP DRAGON SUPLEX ON THE FLOOR!
Bobby folds in half, rolling lifelessly against the barricade.
Maraeth, panting like a predator, slides him back into the ring. She follows, slowly, methodically. The crowd roars in anticipation as she signals for it- - -THE DEATH CLUTCH!!!
She straddles Bobby’s back, stomps his spine, and begins to coil that serpent-like arm around his throat…
Maraeth coils in that arm, locking Bobby in the Death Clutch (Camel Clutch variation). The crowd rises in shock as she wrenches back on his neck, her teeth bared in a grin that borders on religious ecstasy. Bobby’s massive arms flail, his fingers clawing at the mat, at her grip, at anything.
JC: The Death Clutch! She’s got him hooked in deep!
BG: No way, no way she submits Bobby Bourbon in front of the world! The man’s a damn ox!
Bobby’s face goes purple!
His arms drag his mountain of a frame inch by inch toward the ropes - - -but it’s XTreme Rules, there’s no rope break- - - Still, he lurches, lifting Maraeth with sheer adrenaline-fueled power and - - -SLAMS HER BACK INTO THE TURNBUCKLES!
The hold breaks, Maraeth crumpling against the pads. Bobby collapses, coughing, clutching his throat, but the crowd roars as both competitors stagger up like horror movie slashers refusing to die.
Maraeth charges—PUMP KICK!
Bobby reels back into the ropes, rebounds—SHORYUKEN!!! The roundhouse uppercut nearly decapitates Maraeth, sending her flipping backward.
JC: That might have broken her jaw!/white]
Bobby drags her up by the hair, sweat flying from both their bodies, and lifts for the BOBBYBOMB!!!
But Maraeth twists in mid-air, rolling through, and- - -
FLOAT OVER NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEXES!
One suplex!
She rolls her legs over!
Two suplexes!!
The crowd rises to its feet!
THREE SUPLEXES! — and a bridged pin!
1!
2!!
BOBBY KICKS OUT!!!
The crowd is thunderous!
Maraeth, eyes wild, slides out of the ring and drags a table from beneath the apron. She sets it up at ringside, then pulls another, and stacks it on top!
The crowd is in hysterics now.
[white]BG: No… no, don’t you dare, Jack!
JC: She’s building a skyscraper of violence!
She climbs back in, hauling Bobby by the beard, setting him up for a suplex. Bobby blocks, hooks the leg, and SUPLEXES HER INSTEAD—ONTO A PILE OF KENDO STICKS AND THE BENT STEEL CHAIR!
Maraeth’s back arches in agony.
Bobby, bleeding from the mouth, drags himself upright and points to the sky. He climbs the ropes - - -the crowd gasps- - -Bobby Bourbon, 290 pounds, perched on the top turnbuckle.
FLYING CIRCUS!!!
But Maraeth rolls! Bobby CRASHES onto the canvas, the ring shaking from impact.
JC: GOOD GOD! The Flying Circus missed! That might’ve destroyed Bobby’s spine!
BG: That’s the gamble! That’s XTreme Rules!
Maraeth stumbles up, eyes darting to the stacked tables outside. She drags Bobby, piece by piece, deadweight over the ropes to the apron. She hooks him—attempting an Ippon throw off the apron!
The crowd is screaming.
Bobby resists. He elbows her once- - - TWICE!!!- - -Maraeth snarls, headbutts him, and finally- - -OSOTO GARI
OFF THE APRON THROUGH THE STACKED TABLES!!!
CRAAAAAAAAASH! Splinters and carnage everywhere.
The arena explodes in disbelief.
JC: She killed him! She killed Bobby Bourbon!
BG: OH MY GOD! Call the police!
Both bodies lie motionless in the wreckage. The referee slides out, checks them, then begins the count. At seven, Maraeth stirs. She claws her way up, pulling Bobby by the hair, dragging him like a ragdoll back into the ring.
She drops down, hooks his arms, and DRILLS HIM WITH THE KICK DEMON! A shin-to-skull crack that echoes through the arena.
She collapses across him…
1!
2!!
3….
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BOBBY GETS THE SHOULDER UP!!!
The crowd erupts, losing its collective mind. Maraeth screams in fury, tearing at her own hair, pounding the mat.
JC: HOW IN THE HELL DID BOBBY BOURBON JUST KICK OUT OF THAT!
BG: YOU CAN’T KILL A TRUE MONSTER, JACKO!
MAraeth staggers up, dragging Bobby into position, signaling once more for the Death Clutch.
She tries to lock the legs into a surfboard version, but Bobby, through sheer survival instinct, rakes her eyes. She stumbles back—
Bobby surges up, adrenaline roaring, and EMC SQUARED!!!
The chokeslam rattles the ring.
He collapses on her for the pin
1!
2!!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Both are barely alive now. The arena is electric.
JC: How much more can they take?! These two are tearing each other, and this arena, apart!
BG: I don’t know if we’re watching wrestling anymore, Jack, or just ritual sacrifice! This is a battle of the monsters, indeed!
Bobby drags himself upright, motions for the BOBBYBOMB again.
He hauls Maraeth up, she fights, hammering fists into his face, but it’s doing little. He adjusts his grip…
BUT MARAETH SHIFTS HER WEIGHT!
She spins, and in one fluid, terrifying motion…
DEATH CLUTCH WITH BODY SCISSORS!!!
She wraps herself around his back like a constrictor, dragging him down.
Bobby thrashes, claws, the crowd in absolute frenzy!
He lurches to his feet with her clamped on, tries to back-crush her against the corner
BUT SHE HOLDS ON.
His knees buckle.
His arms go slack.
The ref checks.
Raises the arm once - - -drops.
Twice- - -drops.
Three - - -
NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Bobby’s arm stops halfway!
The crowd roars.
He surges one last time- - -stands- - -charges backward - - -AND FALLS WITH ALL HIS MASS THROUGH A TABLE STILL IN THE CORNER, CRUSHING MARAETH UNDER HIM!
Both are out cold.
The ref begins to count again.
1…
2…
3…
4…
Bobby stirs, drapes an arm across her chest.
1!
2!!
JC: WHAT IN THE- - - WHO IN THE - - - IS THAT!???
JC: THAT’S DARREN DANGEROUS! I THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD!
BG: WHO IN THE HELL IS THIS?!
Darren starts stomping on Bobby’s skull. Bobby and Maraeth are both still unconscious, but the pinfall is broken. Quickly, Darren rolls out of the ring, punching himself in the skull an few times, busting himself open. He pulls from under the ring a…
A TABLE WITH LIVE MOUSTRAPS ATTACHED TO IT????!!!!
BG: Why on EARTH would we have something like that under the ring?
JC: IT’s been here waiting for the day that Darren might return.
Darren slides the table into the ring and sets it up. He grabs Bobby out of the wreckage in the corner and…
STRANGER DANGER THROUGH THE TABLE!!!!
The move was poorly executed, and Bobby more or less sorta fell onto Darren, leaving him taking the majority of mousetraps snapping against hims skin. But nonetheless, the table is destroyed, Bobby and Maraeth are still out- and DArren is flopping around in the ring… and FLOPS RIGHT ON TOP OF BOBBY FOR THE PIN!
1!
2!!
3!!!
NEW XWF XTREME CHAMPION - DARREN DANGEROUS
BG: What an absolute travesty! This freak just robbed us of a great finish here, Jack!
JC: Love it or hate it, that’s 24/7 rules… and the match isn’t over yet!
With Bobby down, no moving… Maraeth crawls across the mat, barely conscious herself. She has just enough strength left to get to Bobby before collapsing again… this time with an arm over his chest.
1!
2!!
KICKOUT!!!
A quarter second too late
3!!!
WINNER - via pinfall- MARAETH
JC: We might’ve been robbed from the finish we all deserved, Brody, but you have to admit that was one helluva war we just witnessed. A major statement… heck, an UPSET victory even for Maraeth here tonight!
BG: One thing is for certain… she’s shown she can survive here with the best the XWF has to offer. But as for Darren Dangerous? Just the second that Bobby realizes what’s happened here tonight, he wont be surviving for long
We cut to a shot in a backstage hallway. The camera slowly creeps through the hall until it stops on a barely open door, looking into a cluttered office. The only light in the room comes from a single desk lamp, casting two long shadows against the wall. One of the shadows reflects a motionless man sitting in a wheelchair, with his hand resting limp upon a bell in front of a desk. The other, much fatter shadow paces around in tight circles.
A familiar voice creaks out from the room, the tone caught between urgency and desperation.
The voice of The Nickleman.
“They thought The Corporation was finished! They thought a few chair shots and a bad night meant we would be done. They thought ‘Big Gold’ slipping through my fingers was the end of our Alliance… but they were all wrong.
They were -DEAD- wrong!”
The shadow in the chair moves subtly, softly, with just enough force to ring the bell.
DING!
“Corey Black had to find out the hard way that The Corporation is still standing, stronger than ever. I showed him firsthand what The Corporation does to “Kings” in the XWF.”
DING!
“And Corey got to meet Matthias Syn, our corporate chaos gremlin. Always violent, always unpredictable….but if he ever goes against us, even once, our whole plan could go up in flames. I don’t trust the Syn City Saint. Not for a second.”
DING!
“Yes… glad we see it the same way. But I can still use him, for now...”
DING! DING!!
”Double yes, exactly.”
”Nnnnnnnnnnnnnn…” The shadow in the chair physically strains to reject that notion. Is Principle’s speech slowly returning?
…Charlie paces closer to Peter, leaning over the desk, voice low and harsh.
“And there’s still more to come, whether you and Nadine like it or not. Fresh blood, new enforcers! Loyal to -me- and -me- alone.
Tag team Titans.
I won’t name names… yet. But they’re brutal, lethal, and precise beyond measure. They’ll be the shadows in our corner.”
Charlie’s shadow spins abruptly.
“And Kieran King…that clown, parading around with that crown like he’s untouchable! Last week, he had the AUDACITY to lay hands on ME! His Acting General Manager! He thinks he’s in charge… he thinks he’s in-fucking-vincible. But that Burger King crown? It’s just a prop. And Kieran? He’s just a puppet. So tonight, I’m going to make him dance on my strings.”
DING!
“He’ll strut around thinking he’s running the show, thinking he’s got the upper hand… but tonight, he’s marching to my tune. Dolly won’t see it coming. She’ll think it’s just another fight, just another main event…but tonight, she’s about to feel the full weight of The Corporate boot on her neck! And she’ll never forget it.”
DING!
“Everyone worships her. Everyone thinks she’s untouchable. But tonight, we’ll tear the illusion of Chairwoman Waters apart. And by the time Relentless rolls around, she won’t even be trying to defend ‘Big Gold’.
She’ll just be trying to survive.”
”Kkkkkkkkkkiiiiiiiiiiii… llllllllllllllllllllllllllll…” Peter delivers a low guttural command…
”Sorry, what’s that?” Nickels taps his ear, before pointing to the bell.
…Peter rings the bell once more.
DING!
“And every pissant worker in this company, every self-important fool who thinks they’re bigger than the company that made em’: they’ll feel our boot on their necks, too.
Then after Relentless, we begin our purge.
When I finally have that Universal Championship back in my hands this roster will kneel…or it will die!”
A glint of light catches the camera lens, and Charlie realizes that his shadowy schemes are being watched. Charlie stops his monologue as his shadow lunges towards the door.
“What the helly?!”
Charlie slams the door to Peter’s office shut with a deafening thud!
JC: Folks, it’s been one HELL of a show! And we’ve arrived at our main event! The Universal champion in her first match since winning the belt against The Ultimate Underdog!
BG: Don’t let that name fool ya, Jackie! Dickie’s the ultimate underdog because of just how many champions he’s surprised! This one may not have the belt on the line, but it’s fit to be an all-out WAR tonight!
…
The lights die without warning. Not a fade, but a full blackout that sucks the air out of the arena like the calm before a fire. Then, a strobing light, lime green, flares beneath the metal of the floor. Another, quicker and sharper. A third, holding longer now. Long enough for the crowd to catch a glimpse of the static forming on the screen overhead.
The distorted bass of “DEATHLIST” by Code: Pandorum and GHØSTKID blares across the arena’s speaker system low, grinding and industrial. It doesn't start like music, but more like a warning. Like the hum of something broken beneath concrete.The speakers rattle, and with them the crowd begins to stir as the opening continues to play, rhythmic and angry. Noise from the crowd rolls through like a cold draft in a sealed room, a few cheers, a few chants. But mostly unease.
"Do I love you? Or do I hate you?
Can I trust you without failing you?
Gonna tell you what the secret is...
You're number one on my DEATHLIST."
Whispered, the lyric doesn't rise above the crowd but cuts under it, precise and personal. The music drops out completely, not a fade, and not a glitch, just the same as the lights as they die out entirely. But then, detonation as the bass slams back in without warning, twisted and violent, louder than before. Strobe lights erupt in a manic wash of toxic green, casting sharp, flickering shadows across the sate. It's disorienting, like a spotlight wielded as a weapon. Motionless in that moment, Dickie Watson stands framed in light. No grand pose, no war cry, hair falling in his face and shoulders loose like man who doesn't need to prove he belongs here -- he already knows he does.
JC: Dickie Watson! Many ups and downs for Watson since joining the XWF!
BG: No kiddin’ there, Jackie boy! He came out the gate rough, but he has been HOT lately! Winning multiple battles against the Black Rainbow’s Emilia Glazkov! And pulling off an incredible upset against the red hot Aurora… before we found out she was also in Black Rainbow!
JC: It hasn’t all been roses for Watson, as he came up short at Leap of Faith… but it feels like big matches like this one give Watson a whole new gear he can access. Dickie’s been world champion in wrestling organizations the world over! Something about the main event DRIVES him!
BG: It’s what separates the greats from the fines, Jackie! And Dickie Watson is truly one of the greats!
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.
…
YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!
The crowd EXPLODES as Ode to Joy streams over the PA!
JC: And here she is! The Revolutionary herself! Dolly Waters! After twelve YEARS! After signing an XWF contract as a pre-teen and fighting tooth-and-nail… through injuries… After so many close-calls where she came within inches of the big one… Dolly Waters IS the Universal champion!
BG: It’s the feel-good story of the wrestling world, Jackie! All the hippies and freakniks are celebrating the ultimate home-grown XWFer winning the Big Gold belt… But, if you know Dolly… *some* people are asking… When’s the other shoe gonna drop?
JC: Oh c’mon, Brody. Let her and the XWF Universe enjoy it! Dolly Waters is Universal champion! It’s amazing!
BG: Hey, I’m treating her like a Uni champ, that means she has to deal with hard questions…
The stadium spotlights rush up toward the ceiling and Waters appears under the XTron,
The Big Gold belt hangs around her waist.
She raises a fist toward the sky and the already-defeaning crowd goes even louder!
BG: For example… has Dolly ever beaten a big name opponent?
JC: She just beat the corporate champ, Charlie Nickles!
BG: I’m talkin’ guys like SEB! Like Thaddeus Duke! Like ALIAS!
JC: She pinned Dock at WarGames! That’s among the brightest feathers one can have in their cap!
BG: My point is… One-on-one, against top guys? Dolly comes up short. And Dickie Watson? Is a TOP GUY.
JC: …Well, despite my broadcasting partner’s nay-saying, Dolly proved herself a TOP GUY at Leap of Faith. But, as Dickie pointed out, the first match as the summit can be the hardest! Will Dolly’s reign start off with a bang? Or will Dickie clip its ankle before it even has a chance to run!
Dolly marches to the beat of Ode To Joy, the crowd roaring, her gaze set squarely on the squared circle. She climbs through the ropes and takes the center of the ring. Once again, she raises a single fist into the air, as her music fades, replaces by the still-palpable electricity of the crowd.
…
The two competitors face-off on opposite sides of the ring… Dolly hands off her Universal title to the official, who in turn hands it off to the timekeeper.
JC: The vibes are absolutely electric here, Brody! We’ve got two of the finest competitors that have ever competed between the blue and black ropes of the XWF!
BG: The title may not be on the line but the big-fight energy is PERMEATING and this crowd is RED HOT! We haven’t even started the match and dueling chants have broken out!
FUCK ‘EM UP DOLLY!
WAAAAATSON
FUCK ‘EM UP DOLLY!
WAAAAATSON
DING DING!
Non-Title
Dolly Waters
- vs -
Dickie Watson
Dolly steps forward first, shoulders loose but her eyes locked sharp on Dickie. She slides into a low stance and offering a collar-and-elbow tie-up.
JC: Starting this one off with a little catch-as-catch-can1
Dickie’s lips twitch into the faintest smirk, like he’s amused that Dolly’s trying to meet him on the mat instead of just burning rubber out the gate. He accepts the lock-up, grinding in close with deliberate pressure, feeling her strength.
JC: Right into the tie-up, both wrestlers showing respect for the other’s game.
BG: Pump the brakes on that ‘respect’ stuff, Jacko. Dickie’s already testin’ her shoulders, seein’ if she’s got more than a spark plug under the hood. Like a bridge tester, Watson’s checking how much it’ll take to break her.
Dolly feels the weight against her and tilts her chin, jaw tightening as the two jockey for control.
In a flash, Dolly dips suddenly, rolling into a side headlock, grinding her forearm against Dickie’s temple with a little extra snap.
Dickie winces, but not out of pain — out of irritation. His eyes close briefly, then snap open, reading her grip. He plants a forearm against her spine, shoving, turning his hips, sliding her into a hammerlock behind his back. His lips part just slightly, like he’s whispering something only his opponent can hear…
JC: Watson turns it around in a heartbeat! That’s the veteran in him, Dolly might’ve rushed in too quick.
Brody: Dolly’s a spark plug for sure. Burns fast, burns bright, but ya gotta know where to clamp the jumper cables. And Dickie knows exactly how to shut down that spark.
Dolly’s brow furrows, lips parting in a frustrated grunt. She rocks her body sideways, searching for an angle, and finally dips low, sweeping her free leg back between his and rolling forward. The motion uncoils into a quick reversal — she’s got his arm in a hammerlock now, yanking it high. Her grin flashes for a half-second, teeth showing — gotcha.
Dickie doesn’t flinch. His jaw tightens, and then a sharp exhale escapes his nose, nostrils flaring. He drops his weight suddenly, rolling his shoulder through the torque, spinning and wrenching out into a standing wristlock. His face stays flat, calm — but his eyes cut straight into Dolly’s….
JC: “Neither competitor willing to concede an inch on this physical battlefield! We watched a little chess wrestling earlier, but THIS is what you call a chess match in motion.
BG: Chess? Nah. Dolly’s playin’ speed checkers, Dickie’s over there readin’ the rulebook and takin’ notes.
JC: Despite my co-commentator’s feelings to the contrary, the exchanges thus far have been dead-even. Though, Watson does have a wristlock and is currently in control….
Dolly’s grin fades into concentration, her jawline tightening as she plants her feet. She suddenly rolls forward, flipping off the mat to relieve the pressure, and pops back up to her feet with his wrist still caught in hers. For a heartbeat, both of them freeze — his grip on her, her grip on him, eyes locked.
And then they release at the same time. Both take a step back.
Dolly shakes out her wrist, biting her lip in thought. Dickie rolls his shoulder, his breathing slow and even, gaze steady and unblinking.
A stalemate. Both recalibrating, both reconsidering.
JC: What a stand-off! Neither one got the edge in that exchange.
BG: Not yet. But that’s just the feelin’-out process, Jacuinde. Sooner or later, Dolly’s gonna take off like a jackrabbit, and Dickie’s gonna clip her legs and drag her into the dirt.
The crowd buzzes, already sensing the tension — they know this calm won’t last.
And sure enough, in a sudden flash of velocity, Dolly bursts forward, her body spring-loaded, chaining together an…
ARM DRAG!
…No! Dickie hits the canvas but rolls through his knees, his brow lowering into concentration. No hesitation — he snaps up, launching into an…
Arm drag of his own, yanking Dolly across the ring. Dolly gets launched onto her back!
JC: Tit for tat! Dolly with the arm drag, Dickie fires one right back!
BG: That’s Dickie for ya — he ain’t impressed. You throw him in the water, he’s swimmin’ just fine.
Dolly kips up, her teeth flashing with an eager grin. Dickie seeks a…
Spinning Backfist…
But Dolly ducks! Dickie spins around…
As Dolly leaps atop his shoulders!
HURRICANRANA!
…NO! Dickie, jaw clenched, rolls right through the landing, popping back up with a surge of energy and catching Dolly with a second hurricanrana of his own.
…No! Dolly rolles through as well! The two turn their heads to look at each other back-to-back as the crowd goes electric!
JC: Counter for counter! These two are moving at lightning pace!
BG: Nah! That ain’t lightning, Jacuinde, that’s two tornados colliding! Don’t get caught in the middle!
JC: …Y’know, Brody, we’re both using figurative language, neither of us is “right”... you really don’t have to correct and replace my description every time. We can both just have different metaphors for the action in the ring.
Suddenly, both competitors dash for the ropes! Dolly looks for a…
LARIAT!
But Dickie ducks! Dickie hits the ropes, seeking a…
BASEMENT DROPKICK!
…But Dolly leapfrogs over, collapsing into a sudden roll that stacks Dickie’s legs beneath him. She folds him up, weight pressing down hard on his shoulders — pin attempt!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Dickie explodes out, his face snapping into wide-eyed surprise, chest heaving. He shakes his head in disbelief — Dolly nearly stole it.
JC: Almost a three! Dolly Waters nearly had him right there! I think Dolly almost surprised Dickie, he still thought they were setting up the pieces, he almost got checkmated early!
BG: She’s fast as a whip, no doubt, but don’t get it twisted! Dickie’s survived far worse scrapes than that.
The near-fall lights something in Dolly’s expression — her grin sharpens into focus, her body coiling like a spring as Dickie scrambles up. He lunges forward, hand outstretched to grab her—
But Dolly darts away, bounding across the ring in a single leap. She plants both feet on the ropes, propelling herself back with a clean, practiced rhythm. In mid-air, her eyes sparkle, the grin returning — showtime.
ODE TO JOY! A crushing springboard European Uppercut smashes into Dickie’s jaw, sending him sprawling flat.
JC: ODE TO JOY! And she got ALL of that one!
Dolly crashes down beside him, hooking the leg, face shining with the thrill of the connection.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Dickie jerks his shoulder up, gasping, his eyes wide and furious — she almost had him. He rolls to his side, clutching his jaw, teeth clenched in both pain and determination.
JC: Wow! This one was looking DEAD EVEN, but the last two exchanges have gone all Dolly! That Ode To Joy nearly put Dickie Watson down!
BG: “Nearly ain’t enough, Jackie! Dolly’s startin’ to run the show, but Dickie ain’t stickin’ around this long just to get upstaged!
The crowd roars, sensing the tilt. Dolly bounces to her feet, pumping her fists, roaring with a champion’s spirit! The crowd roars along with her…
Dickie slowly rises to his feet, spitting outside the ring, shaking off that last European uppercut blast from the Universal champion…
Dolly lunges in, looking for another burst of speed, looking to snatch her opponent in a grapple…
But Dickie’s eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a thin, flat line.
As Dolly’s arms seek to latch around Dickie… He slips low, ducking under her charge, and snatches her ankle. With a sudden twist, he wrenches her to the mat face-first.
JC: Oof! That was nasty! Dickie just yanked her straight out of the air!
BG: See that? That’s the difference, Jacuinde. No finesse. Just grit. Dolly’s tryin’ to fly, Dickie’s draggin’ her wings in the mud!
Dolly grimaces, palms smacking the canvas as she scrambles back to her knees. She shakes out her knee, biting her lip in frustration.
JC: …I don’t *think* Dickie was going for the knee, but Dolly favoring it. Her career’s been plagued by injuries to that damn knee…
BG: Hey, she’s the Uni champ, Jacko. No one’s gonna take it easy on her, everyone wants that belt.
Waters shakes it out…
She tries to bolt for the ropes — but Dickie steps in sharply, his arm whipping across her chest with a stinging running chop.
Dolly gasps, arching back, clutching her chest.
JC: …Ouuuuuuuch. What a strike by Watson!
BG: And look at his face, Jacko! His face doesn’t change, just that same focused scowl, like he’s cutting Dolly’s rhythm one off-tempo beat at a time. THIS is a champion!
JC: They’re both champions, Brody!
BG: Really? One looks more champ-like than the other right now…
Dolly’s expression flashes defiance — she scrambles off the mat, surging forward!
Dickie tries to clip her with another shoulder block!
…But Dolly dips under!
JC: Dolly, finding that rhythm again… Looking to pick the pace back up!
Dickie spins around as Dolly rebounds off the ropes!
SHOTGUN DROPKICK!
…No! Dickie reads it. His brow furrows, eyes darting to her legs, and he sidesteps!
Dolly baseball slides across the ring, missing! Dickie wastes no time — he stomps down on her calf, pinning her leg to the mat.
JC: Watson going after the legs now, he’s trying to ground her completely!
BG: Course he is! Dolly’s got speed, but ya can’t drive a car if the tires are slashed. Ruthless!
Dolly grits her teeth, yelping as Dickie twists her ankle and drops a sharp elbow onto her thigh. Her fingers dig into the mat… Dolly claws at his arm, trying to shove him off.
But Dickie leans in harder, his jaw clenching, forearm grinding against her shin while his free hand peppers her ribs with short, venomous punches. No wasted motion. No room to breathe.
JC: Dickie Watson is *dismantling* Dolly Waters right now — every strike, every twist is slowing her down!
BG: That’s the game, Jackie baby. Dolly wants a sprint, Dickie wants a fistfight in the ditch. Guess which one lasts longer?
Dolly thrashes, as Dickie continues peppering her with punches…
Finally, Dolly rolls sideways and kicking free, her eyes wide, her breath ragged.
Dickie rises up… Dolly takes a little longer, pushing herself to her feet, shaking out her leg, muttering something under her breath…
BG: The difference between these competitors is apparent! Dickie is in the driver’s seat and Dolly is clinging on for dear life!
Trying to surprise her opponent, who may think those punches hobbled her… Dolly bursts forward!
But Dickie cuts her off mid-step, ducking low and ramming his shoulder straight into her gut with a lowshoulder block!
His face is calm but merciless… He scoops her off her feet!
SPINEBUSTER! WITH AUTHORITY!
JC: Yowza! That one hurt just looking at?
BG: Really? I saw that and I feel great!
Dolly curls up, her eyes squeezed shut, arms wrapping her ribs as she coughs for air.
Dickie feels how hard that one hit, deep in Dolly’s core. He hooks the leg…
JC: If this is it… this would be a dominant victory over the active Universal champ!
ONE!
TWO!
TH-NO! Dolly shoves a shoulder off the mat… still cradling those ribs…
JC: No, Dolly survives!
BG: But for how long, Jackie! Dickie’s got her mapped out! She’s got a shallow bag of tricks and Dickie’s ripped out her engine and is stripping her for parts!
Dickie rolls to his knees, aware Dolly might kick out of that one… before dragging Dolly back up by her wrist, yanking her into a corner, and drills her midsection with a series of sharp uppercuts. Each one is punctuated by his narrowed gaze, watching her buckle…
JC: Watson promised to drag this into chaos, and that’s exactly what he’s doing! Dolly can’t find her footing here!
BG: Cause Dolly ain’t in her world anymore — she’s in his. Dickie don’t care if it’s ugly. In fact, ugly’s the point.
The crowd roars, split — some rallying for Dolly to break free, others impressed at Dickie’s ruthless efficiency.
Dolly’s back against the turnbuckles, chest rising and falling in ragged bursts, but her eyes flick upward at the sound washing over the arena. The crowd’s on its feet now, stomping and clapping, chanting her name in unison…
FUCK ‘EM UP DOLLY! FUCK ‘EM UP! *clap clap*
Dickie, still pressing close, lips pressed in a grim line, draws his forearm back and snaps it across her jaw. But Dolly’s head jerks with the blow, then snaps back into place — she lets out a sharp shout, chest heaving as she feeds off the audience.
DOLLY DOLLY DOLLY
She swings back, her forearm rattling against Dickie’s cheek.
[white]JC: Listen to this crowd! Dolly’s firing back, feeding off their energy!
BG: She’s feelin’ froggy, but Watson’s fists don’t just sting — they smother.
Dickie’s brow furrows, jaw tightening as he whips another forearm across her face. But Dolly doesn’t wilt — she comes back stronger, quicker, another strike.
Back and forth they go, the rhythm of the exchange turning into a firefight, Dolly roaring louder with each return blow.
JC: Uh oh! Dolly, through sheer fighting spirit, has willed herself back into this one! And I think Dickie’s thrown!
Dickie grits his teeth, eyes narrowing as Dolly surges. He launches a running chop!
But Dolly side-steps it… And leaps in the air!
DROPKICK!
Dolly’s cracks against his chest and sends Watson crashing to the mat, rolling across his shoulders.
The crowd erupts. Dolly pops back to her feet, hair flying wild, her grin flashing as she slaps the canvas to pump herself up.
[white]JC: In short order, Dolly has taken full control back riding this crowd’s energy!
BG: …
Dickie, shaking off cobwebs, shoves himself off the mat up to his knees…
Dolly sees her opening. She races to the ropes, bouncing back with blistering speed — the crowd roars louder as she leaps forward, tucking her knee.
RUNNIIIIIIIIIIING WATERS!
…
DUCKED!
Dickie ducks at the last second, his face calm but fierce! Dolly slips up and over the strike!
JC: Dickie dodges Dolly’s deadly dive!
From behind Dolly, Dickie’s arms shoot around her waist, and in one savage snap, he whips her overhead…
MILLENNIAL FALLOUT! (bridging german suplex)
The ring shakes. Dolly folds up like a ragdoll, stacked high on her shoulders.
ONE!
TWO!
THRE-NOOOOOOOOOO!
Dolly kicks out, tumbling sideways, her body sprawling across the canvas, chest heaving violently.
JC: Two! Only two! Dolly Waters survives, but she might not even know where she is after that!
BG: ...See! That’s how good Dickie Watson is! He let Dolly have one last gasp, just to break her spirit and cut her off at the pass one more time! DOMINANT!
JC: …I disagree with your perspective on Dolly, Brody, but I agree, Dickie’s ability to summon a counter out of thin air serves him very, VERY well in the ring!
Dickie rolls to his side, arms draped over his knees, his expression darkening. He stares down at Dolly, his jaw working as though grinding the thought in silence. His chest rises heavy, sweat dripping off his chin.
Dolly’s body is sprawled on the mat, chest pumping like a piston, sweat dripping down her brow.
FUCK ‘EM UP DOLLY! FUCK ‘EM UP! *clap clap* The crowd tries to summon Dolly back into this one…
Dickie rises to his feet with a deliberate calm, no wasted movements, his lips pressed tight.
He stomps down hard on Dolly’s chest. Once. Twice. Again. Each blow flattens her body back into the canvas, her gasps sharper, her arms curling instinctively to shield herself.
JC: OOooof, come on, those stomps are vicious
BG: They’re genius is what they are, Jackie boy! Dolly’s tryin’ to hide behind the crowd, get these people behind her — Dickie’s makin’ sure she don’t even have the air in her lungs to listen!
Dickie drops suddenly, an elbow smashing down across her ribs. He pops back up — and drops another. Then another. Each elbow is punctuated by his controlled breathing, sharp exhales, measured violence meant to drain rather than dazzle.
Dolly writhes, her face contorted, teeth bared as she tries to roll to the ropes for a breather…
But Dickie slithers down, his arms looping around her neck, cinching her tight in a guillotine choke. His legs coil around her waist, and his expression turns grim, jaw tightening!
JC: Dickie, perhaps seeking a choke-out victory here! He senses Dolly is having a tougher and tougher time escaping and he’s clamping down, calling for a win right now!
Dolly’s eyelids flutter, her arm trembling as it drifts toward the mat.
The Dolly chants… briefly get quieter…
The referee leans in close… Assessing if she’s out…
He raises her arm…
But just before her hand drops, Dolly jerks her head, slipping out the side of Dickie’s grip, twisting free, gasping like she’s clawing oxygen out of the air itself!
The crowd explodes, their chants reaching a fever pitch.
JC: She slipped out! Dolly Waters is still alive!
BG: Yeah, yeah, she’s alive — but she’s about to regret it.
Dickie’s lips pull back in a frustrated grimace. He hooks Dolly’s head, twisting his body — looking for a jumping neckbreaker to snap her momentum once and for all.
But Dolly slips free mid-motion, pushing off with desperate precision. Dickie lands hard on his back, the canvas rattling beneath him. His eyes go wide, teeth grit in a silent curse as he scrambles, spinning around to his knees.
And there she is. Dolly already hits the ropes, bounding forward with renewed fire. Her face is lit with raw determination, jaw clenched, eyes locked on her target.
She launches forward…
RUNNING WATERS!
…
CONNECTS!
THE CROWD EXPLODES!
The shining wizard crashes into Dickie’s temple, the impact echoing across the arena like a gunshot. Dickie crumples to the mat, sprawled flat!
JC: Oh my God! She hit it! RUNNING WATERS!
Dolly tumbles down beside him, breath ragged, arms trembling as she throws herself across Watson’s chest, hooking the leg tight.
The official drops to count!
ONE!
TWO!
THR—
Dickie kicks out, jerking his shoulder up just before the three. The crowd gasps in disbelief, then roars even louder.
JC: …WOW! I thought that was it! Dolly hit the Running Waters FLUSH… and Dickie still survived!
BG: …See, You don’t just pin Dickie Watson, Jacuinde. You gotta break him. And Dolly ain’t done that yet. Not even CLOSE!
Dolly rolls onto her back, chest heaving, eyes wide with exhaustion and frustration. Dickie lies on his side, his breathing heavy, his jaw clenched…
JC: Both these competitors have been through HELL! Both in their careers and in this match… But only one can secure the victory from here!
Both competitors slowly stagger back to a vertical base…
Dickie pounces first, his arms clamping around her waist, teeth grit as he yanks her up — standing switch taking her from behind! Waist lock!
Dickie goes for another…
MILLENNIAL FALLOUT!
…No! Dolly wriggles, sliding down through his arms, then drops straight through his legs to the mat behind him.
The crowd roars as her face flashes with sudden hope — she wraps her arms around his waist, straining, teeth bared. She’s trying to throw Dickie with a German of her own!
JC: Dolly’s trying to flip the script on Watson!
Dickie’s jaw clamps, his hands shooting up to clutch Dolly’s head. With a sharp jerk, he drops, snapping her jaw across his shoulder — Jawbreaker!
Dolly reels back, her eyes glassy, stumbling into the ropes. The cables throw her forward, head still lolling, and she falls straight into Dickie’s waiting hands. His expression is cold, focused, no hesitation. He hauls her up, twisting her body through the air—
DICKIE’S REVENGE!
…CONNECTS!
A devastating modified lifting reverse STO spikes Dolly down face-first into the canvas. The crowd gasps, the sound exploding like a thunderclap.
BG: YES! YES! BALLGAME! CALL IT NOW, JACKIE!
JC: What a move by Dickie Watson! Dickie’s Revenge straight across the jaw!
…Dolly lands flat on her back…
Dickie scrambles over her, pressing down hard, hooking the leg deep. His face shows no joy, just raw urgency.
ONE!
TWO!
THREEEEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Dolly kicks out, jerking her shoulder just before the hand slaps three. The roof blows off the arena, the noise deafening.
JC: AHHHHHHHHH! She kicked out! Dolly Waters just kicked out of Dickie’s Revenge!
BG: …No, that was three. That was for sure three!
JC: It was as close to three as you can get, Brody! But it was two!
Dickie rolls to his knees, hands pressed to the canvas, his chest heaving. His brow furrows deeply…
Dolly lies sprawled beneath him, eyes closed, her chest rising and falling in sharp bursts, but her fingers twitch faintly against the mat.
BG: …Just a matter of time, Jackie. It’s just a matter of time until Dickie puts Dolly down for good.
JC: Dickie is a dominant competitor for sure, Brody, but Dolly is digging deep. She is REFUSING to stay down for the count!
Dickie drags himself up, eyes locked on Dolly like a predator that’s almost cornered its prey. He lunges, scooping her into position…
A SECOND DICKIE’S REVENGE!
…
NO! Dolly’s thrashes, twisting free mid-lift, slipping out of his grip and dropping back to her feet to Watson’s side!
She boots Dickie in the stomach! She cinches him tight between her thighs, hands clasped, looking for a piledriver!
[white]JC: MUDDY WATERS’ FINISHER! THE PIKE COUNTY PLUNGE!
The crowd screams, sensing the end…
PIKE COUNTY PL-
…NO! Dickie grits his teeth, planting his feet back on the mat, hurling Dolly up and over with a desperate…
BACK BODY DROP!
NO! Dolly somehow lands on her feet…
BUT! The second her boots hit canvas her face contorts in agony, her hand clutching at her knee—the old wound barking at the worst possible moment.
JC: Her knee—her knee gave out again!
BG: That’s the ghost that never leaves ya, Jacuinde! That’s the tax comin’ due!
…Dolly tries to shoot back up… But she falls to one knee.
Dickie seizes the moment, a fire in his eyes, rushing forward for…
RISE TO GLORY! (Curb Stomp)
…
NO!
Dolly rolls aside at the last heartbeat! Dickie stomps the canvas with a snarl. Dolly barrels into him, snatching his legs, cradling him into a roll-up!
JC: Dolly trying to steal this one again!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NO!
Dickie explodes out, wide-eyed, gasping, survival screaming through his body.
He springs to his knees just as Dolly snaps up with a sudden…
ROUNDHOUSE! Dolly’s shin whistling through the air like a blade…
…MISS!
Dickie ducks under, whipping behind her. His arms snap around hers, wrenching them behind her back—he dives for a backslide pin!
BG: Dickie turning Dolly’s thieving attempts back on her!
ONE!
TWO!
THRE-NO!
Dolly kicks, twisting her hips, reversing into a sitout pin of her own!
ONE!
TWO!
THRE-STILL NO!
Dickie kicks free, both of them scrambling, eyes wild, sweat flying.
They crash forward again, Dickie snatching Dolly with both hands, dragging her into position for…
DICKIE’S REVENGE!
But Dolly snarls, wrenching her body sideways—she traps his arm tight and spikes it down with an…
ARM DDT!
Connects!
Dickie howls, clutching his limb, staggering to his feet in shock.
The crowd surges to its feet, the noise deafening.
Dickie spins around—
RUNNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING WATERS!
Dolly’s knee smashing flush into Watson’s skull. Dickie crumples, timbering flat onto the canvas.
JC: SHE HIT IT! SHE HIT IT AGAIN! RUNNING WATERS!
Dolly collapses across him, hooking the leg, her face twisted with pain and exhaustion.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER: DOLLY WATERS
The bell rings. The arena explodes in cathartic thunder.
JC: She did it again! Dolly Waters survives the chaos and takes down Dickie Watson!
BG: …
Exhausted, Dolly Waters and Dickie Watson both start rising to their feet. Respectively, they each fall back to the ropes and give one another a respectful nod for a hell of a contest.
The two shake hands, before Dolly beckons for a microphone.
Dolly Waters: This… this is what the XWF *can be*...
We *can be* be that shining light on the hill, the example and aspiration for the rest of this industry… not just because we have the best talent, but because we treat our talent the best…
???: Hold up, hold up, hold up. Cut the microphone. Turn her off right now.
To a series of boos, The King of the XWF, King Kieran himself, comes out with very little fanfare.
BG: He's here! The King is here!
JC: Ladies and gentlemen, you’ll have to forgive my colleague Brody. Sometimes he has these mental lapses that cause him to act like a lunatic.
BG: THHHHEEEE KIIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGG!!!
He continues to talk on his way to the ring.
King Kieran: Dolly, Dolly… what are you doing? You're going to go around wrestling everybody and hoping that afterwards they're going to be good enough sports to co-sign on your little union? Remember, CHAMP, you've only got 90 days to get to 60%. By my calculation, that's 10 shows, so 10 signatures. Let's assume you even work triple duty at Relentless—you'll be gift-wrapping me the Universal Championship and for what? 2 more signees? You're still going to be short.
Kieran reaches the ring and climbs up to the apron.
King Kieran: Look, I get it. You're trying to do this for everyone else. But I don't know if you've really thought this through.
He steps through the ropes.
King Kieran: My crown was NOT handed to me. I EARNED it. Need I remind you that you were even in that 2024 tournament when I first ascended, and didn't make it past the first round. But you HAVE been to the finals before, all the way back in 2019. So you know how tough it is to pull off what I did. You've lived and breathed it, and you couldn't do what I did. And you want me to, what… hand over the power that I bled for? You want to render the attacks that Scoops McGee, Sarah Wolf, Matthias Syn, and the Black Rainbow all laid on me completely meaningless just so that fucking losers like Roger and Tommy Gunn and and that Pennyfarthing weirdo can live the good life?
Dolly Waters: There's enough to go around for everyone, and still keep your crown.
King Kieran: I strongly disagree. In fact, I think there's too much going around already. And I think that a certain ungrateful and unworthy champion has forgotten who holds the real power here. I know that YOU know that your little mission here, is because YOUR KING gave that the okay. You should say ‘thank you’, Dolly.
Holding her head up high, Dolly does no such thing.
Kieran scoffs.
King Kieran: That's okay. While everything you are doing is ALLEGEDLY for the rest of the locker, my little clause wasn't for you. It was for me. See… I couldn't have the Universal Champion be off contract and not show up at Relentless, could I? Who would I take the title from then?
His voice drops low.
King Kieran: You're playing my game, Dolly. And speaking of playing my game, allow me to make sure the message is very clear for everyone else in the roster.
The change in expression on The King's face is subtle—a slight shift of his eye towards his peripherals.
But Dolly spots it.
And just as King winds up a superkick aimed straight at Dickie Watson's head, Dolly dives in front and gets wiped out mid-air!
JC: DOLLY WATERS JUST SAVED DICKIE WATSON!
BG: What an idiot!
While Dolly takes the hit, the impact is enough to knock Dickie from the ring.
Before he can get up and fight back, officials swarm and pull him away. They try to get into the ring to Dolly as well, but King swats at and threatens them.
He circles Dolly.
King Kieran: Not what I was expecting, but I’ll take it. Maybe we can try this again… say ‘thank you’, Dolly.
He crouches down and shoves the microphone in her face.
Suddenly…
A dangerous bass riff blasts through the arena as a shot of pyro goes off near the stage. The crowd roars as Charlie Nickles appears at the top of the stage, flanked on either side by Dwyane “The Grok” Johnson and Matthias Syn, “The Syn City Saint”! All three men are dressed to the nines, wearing extremely expensive suede suits and leather shoes. The Nickleman holds a steel chair in the palm of his hands.
JC: Uh oh, here comes Charlie Nickles and his corporate goons!
BG: They’re not gooners, they’re saviors! They’re coming out here to save the XWF!
JC: You think they’re coming out to save Dolly from Kieran’s vicious attack?!
BG: Well, I didn’t say that!
As “Bullet With A Name” blasts through the speakers, Charlie and his thugs stand at the top of the ramp. The Nickleman wears a sinister smile as Syn and Grok crank their necks and crack their knuckles, clearly getting ready for a scrap. Kieran King rises to his feet in the ring as he stares up the ramp at The Corporation.
Charlie Nickles rolls up his sleeves as he holds onto the chair and barks for Syn and Grok to charge the ring. Syn and Grok sprint down the ramp, sliding into the ring and rising to their feet, both man and machine matching Kieran King’s steely gaze.
BG: And The Corporation is hitting the ring!
JC: All but that dastardly Nickleman! He’s just standing outside the ring, giving orders!
The Nickleman waits outside the ring with his chair, smirking as The Grok and The Syn City Saint circle Kieran King, presumably looking for an opening.
JC: Kieran came out here to even a score with Dolly Waters, but now, this is anything but even!
Kieran keeps his eyes on Syn and Grok as the two circle him around the ring, keeping an equal space between Kieran and themselves.
Then, Charlie Nickles slides into the ring beneath the bottom rope, chair in hand!
BG: Charlie is sliding into the ring, and Kieran doesn’t even see it!
JC: Kieran’s distracted by “The Help”! Now, Charlie has him in his sights!
With Kieran distracted by Syn and Grok, Charlie grips his steel chair. Then, Charlie slams his chair aggressively against the mat, catching Kieran’s attention! Surrounded on all sides by The Corporation, Kieran turns around and dares Charlie to ‘bring it on’!
JC: Outnumbered or not, Kieran King is ready for action here tonight!
BG: Kieran’s bighead might be getting the better of him here! Even if he’s the King, he’s got the Saint, the Robot, and the Acting GM in that ring with him right now!
JC: And Dolly Waters is still down, thank God! Hopefully these thugs all take each other out!
Charlie slams his chair against the mat one more time as Kieran braces for conflict. Then, Charlie charges forward with the chair!
In fact, Charlie charges right PAST Kieran with the chair-
AND SMACKS DOLLY RIGHT ACROSS THE FACE WITH IT!
Then, “Grok” and Syn charge past Kieran, and begin delivering massive kicks to the downed champion!
JC: Wait, what the hell is going on?!?! They’re not even looking at Kieran King! They went straight for Dolly Waters!
Kieran steps back in mild confusion, but his bewilderment quickly turns to bemusement as blood begins running down Dolly’s face after Charlie hits her with the chair one more time.
JC: Where is the rest of The Revolution?! Where is the union?! Dolly needs help out there!
After delivering a brutal gang beatdown to Dolly, Charlie instructs his boys to back off. Then, as Dolly lay bloodied on the mat, Charlie turns his eyes towards Kieran.
Then, Charlie softly tosses the chair over to Kieran- and the King catches it!
BG: It looks like Charlie’s about to get some help in that ring!
JC: NO! God, no! Don’t do it, Kieran!
THAT’S WHEN ANOTHER BURST OF PYRO HITS THE MAIN STAGE!
BG: Wait a minute, Jacko’?! Who’s coming out now?!
JC: Oh my God…is that……SCHISM?!?! And Mark Flynn!
BG: Dolly’s Great Revolutionary hope! They’re both heading to the ring to save his champion, but will it be enough?!
SCHISM shoots down the stage like a bullet from a gun, charging right into the fray to protect Dolly Waters! Flynn charges down the ramp beside him!
The original revolutionaries slide under the rope! Grok raises at elbow at Schizz… as Schism nearly takes Grok’s head off with a clothesline!
Charlie raises his chair to decapitate Flynn… But Flynn dives on top of him with a Lou Thesz Press! Delivering punch after punch to his skull!
BG: That’s called felonious destruction of property! He’s going to have to pay for destroying Elon’s toy like that!
JC: That’s called JUSTICE, Brody!
Schism turns towards Matthias Syn next-
BUT KIERAN KING BLASTS SCHISM IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!
SCHISM COLLAPSES LIKE A SACK OF ROCKS!
MATTHIAS SYN AND THE GROK IMMEDIATELY BEGINS DELIVERING BIG BOOTS TO HIM, KEEPING HIM DOWN!
Flynn attacks Charlie like a rabid dog with mounted punches…
Charlie manages to shove off Flynn…
STRAIGHT INTO KIERAN’S CHAIR!
Flynn collapses onto the mat…
BG: So what do you call that, Jacko’?!
JC: I call it bullshit!
The crowd roars with unanimous boos as Dolly Waters, Flynn and Schism lay completely flat in the center of the mat. Charlie Nickles and Kieran King stare each down from just a few feet away as Matthias Syn and The Grok deliver more boots to the downed revolutionaries.
As the arena roars with thunderous hate, The Corporation and Kieran King stand tall in the ring, united for one night only.
That’s when the camera cuts to a shot just beyond the stage, in the gorilla position…
Where we see Dickie Watson inking his name on a union contract!
BG: Noooo, Dickie, don’t do it! Don’t throw your life away for Dolly’s union!
JC: ‘Throw his life away’?! Do you hear yourself, Brody?! Dolly Waters just saved Dickie’s skin back there: and now, he’s joining the union! Charlie and Kieran might have won the battle tonight, but it looks like more Union Soldiers will be joining the war!
BG: But that’s all the time we have tonight, Jacko! This battle may be over….but this company-wide civil war has only just begun!
THANK YOU TO…
OUR MATCH WRITERS
Peter Principle
“The Bashmaster” Barry Masterson
Bobby Bourbon
Charlie Nickles
OUR SEGMENT WRITERS
Thaddeus Duke
Charlie Nickles
Dolly Waters
Kieran King
![[-]](https://xwf99.com/images/portal2/collapse.gif)
The following 6 users Like Peter Principle's post:
![[Image: PhegyGP.png]](https://i.imgur.com/PhegyGP.png)
![[Image: LkAiuQp.png]](https://i.imgur.com/LkAiuQp.png)
![[Image: avatar_1003.jpg?dateline=1439069672]](https://xwf99.com/uploads/avatars/avatar_1003.jpg?dateline=1439069672){kind=avatar}
