OOC: ANARCHY RULES is 1 RP with a 1K WORD LIMIT unless stated otherwise
Hard deadline for Anarchy will be WEDNESDAY, XX-XX-XXXX at 11:59pm board time. Good luck!
After an intense promotional video for XWF Wargames concludes, we’re brought into the opening segment of XWF Anarchy, complete with pyro, pageantry and post-grunge rock instrumentals!
Todd: Welcome to Anarchy, in the XWF’s final pit stop before the highly anticipated WARGAMES!
Bama: Anarchy? War?! GAMES?!!? The XWF? The only thing that could make this week any better would be-
”WRESTLING FANS OF PENNY-SEAL-VAINY-YA!”
The crowd erupts in confusion and excitement as a booming, unmistakable voice echoes through the arena.
”I’ve been told that Penny-seal-vainy-ya is a ‘swing state’, and if it’s one thing the Bashmaster appreciates, it’s a good swingers bash!”
Blue: Wait a second, is that--?
Todd: Yep. It’s Bashmaster alright.
”So tonight, for the first time ever, XWF Anarchy is going to SWING for the fences in your honor, Penny-seal-vainy-ya!
We’re giving you chaos, we’re giving you carnage, and we’re giving you CLASS!
Tonight, three of your beloved Anarchy stars will qualify for the inaugural…Bashmaster Classic!”
Bama: The what?
Todd: Hmmm… a ‘we’re-fresh-out-ideas’ wrestling tournament wasn’t on my bingo card tonight.
Oh, and one more thing you swingers! Stick around till the very end, because let’s just say… I’ve got a BIG finish, a surprise that’ll leave you begging for an encore!
Barry’s voice fades and the intro music resumes, followed by more pyro and stuff. The camera pans back to Todd and Bama whose features are frozen with confusion.
Da Bing Bong Twinzz bust out that back stage bitch like WTF and perp slash pimp walk to the RANG. You feel me? And alongside em? Oscar De La Huevos. The smallest mixed martial arts expert in the world!
Todd: This must be the man Da Bing Bongz were hyping up on Twitter, after they were unhappy with their short lived allegiance with Mini Morbid
Bama: With good reason, Todd! Oscar De La Huevos is a stone cold killer! Just look at those stubs.
We the X-Tron come to life with the words THUGS in red font, and smoke comes out of the stage
Todd: For the first time in months, the THUGS are back on XWF Anarchy!
the camera see's Tommy and Reggie coming out first trash talking to the camera, then JB follows behind as he raises his fist in the air as they walk down to the ring. At the ramp area, Tommy and JB smack talk some people, and they both climb to the ring and enter it and bask in the mixed reactions as their theme cuts off.
DA BING BONG TWINZZ & OSCAR DE LA HUEVOS
- vs - T.H.U.G.S
REGGIE ESTRADA, TOMMY WISH & JOHN BLACK 6-Man Tag Team
Ding! Ding! Ding!
The bell rings and the action is immediately underway! Oscar starts off against John Black, the pair circling each other in the middle of the ring. Each man eyes the other closely, looking for any signs of weakness. Sensing opportunity, Oscar quickly darts forth and locks up with John Black, pushing him into a neutral corner. The referee gets in close to see what's going on as the two struggle in the corner, interfering and breaking the two men up as soon as John Black starts attempting to eye gouge his opponent. After the two men are separated by the referee, they immediately tie up once more!
Todd: The referee breaks the action up early, trying to keep this match as clean as possible!
Bama: Good luck with that, with these guys in the ring!
As the two men tie up, Oscar once again begins asserting dominance. He starts pushing John Black towards his team's corner, but John Black breaks it off with a stiff knee to the gut that causes Oscar to lean over. Never one to miss an opportunity, John Black catches Oscar lacking and slams him to the mat with a vicious DDT! Oscar's neck seems to twist at an awkward angle as he slams against the ground. John Black immediately flips him over and lifts up his leg, already going for the pinfall!
1!
2!!
3-NO! MC C-Munqqquee BathZaltzz dives into the ring and breaks it up! The MC starts wailing on John Black, even as the referee tells him he has to get out of the ring! This Bing Bong Twin isn't listening at all though, and soon him and Oscar are both pounding away on John Black! JB is dropped to his knees as the pair begin a ruthless assault- until the rest of the THUGS arrive in the ring! Reggie Estrada charges forward, and delivers a clothesline so vicious that both he and the MC both go flying out of the ring and over the top rope! Once the pair land outside the ring, and outside the purvey of the referee, Reggie Estrada starts delivering vicious elbows to the fact that bust this Bing Bong twin wide open!
Todd: Oh my God Bama, this match is getting violent already! We might need to keep the paramedics on hand for this one!
Bama: This is what happens when THUGS run wild, Todd!
Back inside the ring, Tommy Wish has knocked Oscar down to the mat with a huge shouldercheck. As Oscar scrambled back up to his feet, Tommy was right there waiting for him with a couple big body blows to take Oscar right back down. Tommy stomped out Oscar for good measure, before finally listening to the referee's instructions and making his way back to the ringside apron. Sensing yet another opportunity to pounce, John Black took control of Oscar before delivering a powerful bodyslam that shook the entire ring. Meanwhile, the other 1/2 of the Bing Bong Twinz has been on the apron this whole time, playing on his phone- presumably texting a thicc latina baddy.
Todd: Li’l Ca$h-App has been distracted this whole match! He hasn't done anything while his team has needed him, badly!
Bama: Well it looks like he's going to have his chance to change the tide of this match right here, Todd! Look, Oscar's going for the tag!
Oscar crawls over and taps the side of Li’l Ca$h-App's leg, and the referee rules it a legal tag. Completely oblivious to this fact, Li’l Ca$h-App actually begins posing for a selfie in front of this sold-out crowd in Allentown, Pennsylvania while Oscar rolls his way out of the ring and towards safety. John Black chuckles as he sees Li’l Ca$h-App posing like a fool on the ringside apron, but instead of going after the jabroni himself, John Black decides to tag in his homie. Tommy Wish grins like a dog as he gets the tag, and then he quickly heads towards the Bing Bong Twin posted up on the ringside apron across from the Thugs!
Bama: And here comes Tommy Wish, with that thuggish ruggish grin plastered all across his face!
Todd: He looks like he means business, Bama! MEAN BUSINESS! That Bing Bong twin had better watch out!
Tommy Wish saunters towards Li’l Ca$h-App with a confident swagger before knocking the phone out of his hands. Lil Ca$h-App looks downright offended, but then Tommy Wish slaps him and he looks downright pissed off! Tommy gestures for The Bing Bong Twin to get in the ring, and a steaming hot Lil Ca$h-App obliges! The Bing Bong Twin throws a haymaker, but Tommy Wish catches the twin's arm- and starts angling for a submission! The Bing Bong Twin seems to be in an inordinate amount of pain, but as he reaches for the ropes Tommy Wish releases him. The Bing Bong Twin then throws another haymaker, but this time Tommy Wish ducks! As Tommy comes back up, he fires back with two quick punches that drop Lil Ca$h-App to the ground.
Todd: Tommy Wish has been all action here! He looks as ready and prepared for War Games as I've ever seen him!
Bama: I'll tell you this much, Todd: I wouldn't want to be that lil' monkeyrat boy right now! Tommy Wish has him right where he wants him!
As Reggie Estrada completely obliterates the other bing bong twin with elbows outside the ring, Tommy Wish starts obliterating the bing bong twin inside the ring with vicious boots to the back. After Lil Ca$h-App finally stops squirming, Tommy grabs a hold of his ankle and locks in The Fetish Lock! Lil Ca$h-App starts flailing about desperately, screaming as he tries to break the ankle lock with everything he has- but nothing is working! Tommy Wish looks set to break this bing bong twin's ankle!
Todd: This could be it, this could be it right here! Both of his teammates are out of commission, and Tommy has that Fetish Lock in tight!
Bama: He has no choice but to submit!
The Bing Bong Twin tries to hold on as long as possible, and even starts crawling towards the ropes: but it's no use! Tommy Wish just pulls him right back to the center of the ring as he keeps The Fetish Lock in tight- and eventually, The Bing Bong Twin has no choice but to submit! Lil Ca$h-App taps the mat in agony, begging for this all to be over!
WINNER: THE T.H.U.G.S.
Charlie Nickles burst out from the crowd as soon as the match concludes, wielding his signature baseball bat wrapped with barbed wire. Charlie hops the barricade and makes a bee-line for the ring, scaring the referee away with his mere presence. As Charlie rises to his feet he looks at all 6 of the competitors in the ring: they're bruised and exhausted from the tough fight...but Charlie's feeling froggy fresh!
The Nickleman unleashes a sinister grin onto your television camera before charging right at the THUGZ! John Black and Reggie Estrada are both quickly dispatched with furious headshots, knocking them out of the ring. That's when Tommy Wish, reading the writing on the wall, rushes forward- right into a home run swing! Charlie blasts Tommy in the gut with the baseball bat before pulling it back and slamming the bat down onto Tommy's back, forcing him to the mat.
Charlie laughs to himself as he begins circling Tommy Wish, who is now crawling towards the ropes and coughing up blood. After he's had enough fun, Charlie Nickles delivers a devastating blow to the back of Tommy's head that causes his body to go limp. Charlie smirks at him before stepping over his lifeless body and out of the ring.
The crowd boos Charlie for his vicious attack as he makes his way up the ramp, but he screams at them that ""I HAVE MY REASONS" and that they "WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND THE RESPONSIBILITIES OF BEING A FATHER!". As Charlie Nickles finally reaches the apron and heads backstage, we see a medical team rush down into the ring to check on Tommy Wish.
Todd: Up next Bama, it’s time for our first qualifier to crowned in the- uhh- what’s this thing called again?
Bama: The Masterson’s Masterclass!
Todd: I don’t think that’s right.
Bama: Well can you blame me for getting it wrong? I like Barry’s accent and all, but the man is a terrible communicator! We’ve still never met the guy, how in the heck am I supposed to translate his intentions on a live broadcast? We’re doing everyone a great disservice.
Todd: OH! Here it is- The Bashmaster Classic! Now, what are the implications of The Bashmaster Classic? We literally couldn’t tell you folks, but what we can tell you is that the first honorary competitors in this… whatever this is, are none other than Latoya Hixx and the former TV Champion, Mastermind!
When The Strom is Coming hits Latoya Hixx. they heard a voice laugh in the background and saw blue lights from the entrance and some smoke and rainfall coming down she walked onto the middle stage flexed her muscles walked straight down towards the aisle slapped a few XWF fans got inside the ring and dim the lights in the ring and she flexes her arms once more and spread her arms and climbs on the top rope and yell at her fans and tells them to let's go and climbs down off the ropes and waits for her Opponent to arrive
Todd: Latoya Hixx is looking to get back to her winning ways here tonight against Mastermind.
Bama: Winning ways? She just lost to a dead body on Spooky Savage.
Todd: Well, I mean before that! Remember Anarchoween?
Bama: Oh I remember it well, I remember watching Dominik Strife morph into an absolute star while Hixx did everything she could to cost Strife and Borden the match.
Todd: Say what you will, Bama. I think Latoya Hixx has a fire in her belly tonight, and she’ll need it, because she’s facing something way tougher than a dead body.
Bama: Is she now?
Todd: It’s Mastermind!
Bama: Talk about someone who needs to get back on a winning path.
Todd: Indeed, but it’s been no easy path for the former champ. Jason Cashe? Madison Dyson? A future star in James Shark? I expect Mastermind to bounce back big here tonight.
A figure is seen walking out from the back wearing a black hooded sweatshirt on. The hood was over his head so he couldnt be seen, and his head was looking down.
He stood in a stance
As his signature song continues to hit this is my Brutality he takes off his hood to reveal himself to be Mastermind, and he walks to the ring, alone.
MASTERMIND
- vs -
LATOYA HIXX Bashmaster Classic Qualifier
Both wrestlers circle each other cautiously, before Latoya lunges forward, grappling Mastermind in a headlock, trying to wear the veteran down. She rips his head around a few times, her muscles squeezing tight around Mastermind’s temples.
Todd: Per usual, Latoya Hixx is leaning on her brute strength out of the gate here!
Bama: I would say ‘if it aint broke, dont fix it’, but I can’t get over this fact, baby, she lost to Dick Powers’ dead corpse.
And just like that, the technical, high-flying Master of Minds breaks free, slithering out of the hold and pushing Hixx forward into the ropes, she rebounds with a clothesline, but Mastermind does an impressive leapfrog over Hixx, landing gracefully on his feet.
Bama: Whoa! Mastermind looking as spry as ever here!
Hixx hits the ropes the rebound and bulrushes Mastermind, grabbing him by the head and pushing him into the corner. Hixx goes for a big elbow smash to the face, but Mastermind ducks under, retaliating with a quick armdrag to the mat, where Mastermind takes his turn applying a headlock on Hixx!
Todd: He’s building momentum here, fighting as hard as he can knowing that a spot in the Bashmaster Classic hangs in the balance!
But Latoya wont be denied. She powers up to her feet, countering the headlock with a powerful back suplex that breaks the hold. The crowd starts heating up for this back and forth contest.
Hixx goes for the cover!
1!
2!!
Kick out!
Mastermind recovers quickly, and brings Hixx down with a drop toe hold, moving overtop of her to transition into a quick STF attempt, but Latoya grabs the ropes to break the hold! Sending a few kicks back to build some space between herself and Mastermind’s aggressive mat offense. She goes for a leg sweep, but Mastermind jumps over it. So again, Latoya rises to her feet, and begins charging at Mastermind, but again Mastermind leap frogs her! Planting the landing like a ballerina.
Mastermind runs after Latoya, following her into the ropes and whipping her toward the corner, but Latoya overpowers him, reversing and sending her opponent careening chet first into the corner! Before Mastermind can even fall, Hixx runs from behind with a big splash, but Mastermind ducks out of the way!
Todd: I can’t remember the last time I saw Mastermind move so gracefully in the ring!
As Hixx eats the turnbuckle, Mastermind gives her a smirk and waits for her to recover, as she does he runs in a full sprint toward the opposite turnbuckle, and Hixx follows. Mastermind shows off his athleticism and grace, leaping to the top turnbuckle and immediately vaulting back off with a picturesque diving moonsault attack!
Bama: That’s a thing of beaaaauuuuutttt-OOOWWWW!
Hixx side steps and Mastermind lands awkwardly. His ankle buckled underneath him.
Todd: Oh my god, Bama. I think that’s broken.
Mastermind’s eyes bulge from his skull as he begins screaming in pain.
Bama: I think I’m going to be sick.
Before Mastermind can even fall to the mat to nurse his injury, Hixx forces his head between her legs.
POWERBOMB!
But shes not done!
SECOND POWERBOMB!
Mastermind’s unconscious head whips violently against the mat.
Hixx covers him for the pin!
1!
2!!
3!!!
WINNER: LATOYA HIXX
TODD: Folks, we’re onto the second of our Bashmaster classic qualifying matches! Here’s what we know so far! Layota Hixx pulled off a MAJOR upset, defeating very-recent XWF Television champion, Mastermind! As such, she has moved onto the next stage of the Bashmaster Classic!
BAMA: Now, onto what we DON’T KNOW!
What it means to move onto the next stage of the Bashmaster Classic.
What the next stage of the Bashmaster Classic is.
What the Bashmaster Classic is.
Who the Bashmaster is.
What’s Classic about him.
Who the HELL hired him to be Anarchy GM!!!!
TODD: Well, Bama, I hope we get the answer to… any of those questions, honestly. But, what we know is we’re about to see ANOTHER Bashmaster Classic qualifying match!
Ricky Goldhart appears at the top of the stage. He lifts both fists high into the air as he begins to walk down to the ring.
TODD: Ricky Goldhart! One-half of a surprisingly deft pairing, the Can-Jap Connection!
BAMA: He and Kyodai Monsuta ab-so-lute-ly brought the old-school smackdown to the tag division! Only thing is… have we ever seen Ricky Goldhart wrestle in a singles match?
TODD: It’s atypical to be certain! Goldhart has no shortage of talent and technical prowess, though!
Goldhart slides into the first one and bounces, at the ready, as the music fades out.
The synthisized beat of Shake it Off By Taylor Swift begins to play over the public address system, as the opening lyrics soon begin, as the fans boo and flashes going off, people are waiting for the arrival of the Fitness Queen herself.
I stay out too late
Got nothing in my brain
That's what people say, mm-mm
That's what people say, mm-mm
As a spotlight is on the entrance ramp and the lights dim, first stepping out is none other than the legendary Snarktopus Nessa Wall, who smiles brightly before trash talking the fans as she smiles, before ordering a couple of stage hands to come out they each have a mirror in hand they face the entrance ramp, as soon out from the back steps La Marvillosa herself Marisol Vilaro.
I go on too many dates
But I can't make 'em stay
At least that's what people say, mm-mm
That's what people say, mm-mm
TODD: Here she is! Marisol Vilaro!
BAMA: Put some res-PECK on her name, Toddy! That right there is the QUEEN of #VILAROFIT! Her highness of thigh-ness! Marisol Vilarooooooooo!
Marisol stops to admire herself in each mirror posing and showing off, what her hard work has given her and mouthing about how she’s the inspiration these out-of-shape people need. After a few moments of posing she brushes right past, giving her manager/mentor a hug before they head off with Nessa leading the way taking the time to give the fans at ringside a hard time for even trying to touch them.
But I keep cruisin'
Can't stop, won't stop movin'
It's like I got this music in my mind
Sayin' it's gonna be alright
TODD: Well, Miss Vilaro made clear she wasn’t happy about logging her first singles loss since joining the Anarchy brand!
BAMA: An absolute JOKE, Toddy! Just like she said, if the match was more about wrestling SKILL and less about furniture-based attacks? Miss Vilaro woulda had it in a cinch!
TODD: …Well, besides that one misstep, Vilaro’s record is *near* spotless on Thursday nights! But, can she get back on track tonight with a win over Ricky Goldhart and qualify for the Bashmaster Classic?
Marisol herself takes the time to pose some more showing off her muscle, and trying to sell them on the VilaroFit mission, and how they need it to improve themselves, As the devious duo soon make their way toward the ring side area Nessa soon goes up the ring steps and takes the time to bark orders at the referee, showing him exactly how lower the ropes for herself, and her client, after being lectured by the Ambitchous one, the referee complies doing it exactly as Nessa demanded enters the ring and motions for Marisol to go up the steps, as she climbs up the steps she takes each moment to keep shilling her products, which doesn’t endear her to the fans, as she soon enters the ring under the rope and soon she rudely brushes past the referee as Nessa presents her to the booing fans as she raises her arms high in the air soaking in the boos, and catcalls.
'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play
And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate
Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
I shake it off, I shake it off (hoo-hoo-hoo)
Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break
And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake
Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
I shake it off, I shake it off (hoo-hoo-hoo)
TODD: …I swear Vilaro’s entrance gets longer every week.
BAMA: That’s just your imagination, Toddy. It’s exactly the length it needs to be.
Marisol then does a series of poses once again before turning around and gracing the other side of the area raising her arms high in the air and then doing a similar series of poses showing off her physique and how in shape she is. While Nessa claps her client before they head into their corner, and Nessa is getting Marisol psyched and going over the game plan as they wait for the opponent to enter.
…
Finally, as the music fades out, Vilaro takes a bow to the booing crowd. Goldhart meanwhile looks like he broke a sweat just *watching* Vilaro’s extended entrance choreography!
MARISOL VILARO
- vs -
RICKY GOLDHART Bashmaster Classic Qualifier
As the bell rings, Marisol Vilaró locks eyes with Ricky Goldhart, a calm but steely focus evident in her gaze. She raises her chin slightly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, as if sizing him up. Ricky, in contrast, appears determined but guarded, taking a deep breath to steel himself for the bout. He moves forward with measured caution, his brows furrowed in concentration.
TODD: Goldhart is *very* familiar with starting a match on the right foot! He would frequently open up tag matches competing for the Can-Jap Connection!
BAMA: But tonight he ain’t got no partner to turn to, Toddrick! Just him and the QUEEN of #VILAROFIT!
Goldhart and Vilaro lock up in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, and Ricky feels Marisol’s strength immediately, as she starts to throttle him around, trying to get him to slip off his feet!
Goldhart’s jaw tightens as he counters Vilaro’s overpowering attempts by twisting around into a waist lock!
TODD: Great technical prowess on display by Goldhart! Marisol’s as strong as you’d immediate a fitness queen to be, but Ricky uses his technical prowess to maintain control!
Marisol’s eyes narrow as she smirks, feeling the hold but not deterred. With a quick burst of movement, she reverses into a waistlock of her own, tightening her grip around him.
BAMA: Hot dang! How’d she get behind Goldhart? I blinked and I missed it!
Ricky’s face flashes with a mix of frustration and focus as he works quickly to regain control, slipping behind Marisol with a standing switch, before smoothly transitioning to a hammerlock!
Goldhart’s lips press together in a tight line, sensing a small victory as he applies pressure to Vilaro’s toned bicep. Marisol winces, her brow furrowing…
TODD: Goldhart enjoying a small victory here, enjoying a brief taste of controlling the pace and flow of the match!
…But there’s a calculating glint in Marisol’s eye!
Without missing a beat, Vilaro rolls forward, smoothly breaking free and countering with a swift single leg takedown!
BAMA: Hot dang! Po-ETry in mo-shun right there, Toddy!
Ricky grunts as he hits the mat, and his eyes widen in surprise as he instinctively rolls through and jumps to his feet. He flashes a confident smile, nodding in acknowledgment of Marisol’s skill. Vilaro circles around her opponent, trying to take his back… Ricky huffs out his breath, before resuming the circle step, beads of sweat trickling down his face…
BAMA: …The hell’s going on here, Toddy! That was a dynamite sequence, but the match just started and Ricky’s sweating like a Senator in a Sauna out there!
TODD: You have to remember, Bama! Ricky has spent his whole career as a tag-team specialist! He’s used to brief bursts of offense followed by windows where he can tag out! He’s very skilled, but he might not be used to extended time in the ring!
BAMA: Well, he’s in there with the Sultana of Stamina, Toddrick! If he doesn’t wanna get RUN OVER, he better get a second wind!
TODD: It looks like Marisol is keeping him moving though! Her years as a fitness instructor must mean she has a special sense for when to push someone to their limit!
Marisol’s expression hardens, her focus intensifying as she quickly charges back in.
Ricky feels the momentum shift and catches Marisol with a sharp headlock takedown, bringing her down to the mat, and holds her there with a firm grip. Marisol’s face shows a momentary flicker of discomfort, her brows knitting together as she contemplates her escape.
TODD: Phew, there we go, Ricky drags his opponent to the mat, giving himself a breather to inflict some pain on Mari-
With a powerful twist, Marisol manages to slip free, grabbing his arm and twisting it into an arm wrench into a wrist lock!
TODD: …No break for Ricky! Marisol keeps the workout going!
Ricky winces, his face tightening as he feels the pressure, but he flashes a determined grin, not wanting to show weakness. With a sharp intake of breath, he reverses her hold into an Indian deathlock, trapping Marisol’s leg and focusing on her knee.
BAMA: Hot dang! Ricky secures the Indian deathlock! That’s one-half of the Can-Jap finishing move!
TODD: There may be no Kyodai Monsuta here to sit on Vilaro’s head, but Ricky might get the job done by himself tonight!
Marisol’s eyes narrow as her lips press into a thin line, grimacing slightly!
The official leans over her! Asking if Vilaro wants to submit!
…
Vilaro reaches!
…
She reaches!
…
SHE reaches AND GRABS for the ropes!
ROPE BREAK!
TODD: Incredible flexibility by Vilaro! Goldhart had her almost dead-center of the ring with that submission hold!
BAMA: The VilaroFit Fitness program involves three hours a day of Hot Yoga! Immediately followed by two hours of Cold Yoga! THEN, immediately followed by three MORE hours of LUKEWARM YOGA!
Ricky releases her reluctantly, and as both stand up, he’s breathing a bit harder, his face showing a hint of fatigue. Marisol, however, looks unfazed, bouncing lightly on her feet, her eyes gleaming with confidence. Ricky’s jaw sets in frustration, realizing he’ll need to pick up the pace.
TODD: Goldhart’s no fool! He sees the game Vilaro’s playing here!
BAMA: But, he’s already down on the scoreboard, Toddy! Can he come back?
With renewed determination, Ricky charges forward, executing a flying arm drag that sends Marisol rolling across the ring. She rolls smoothly, her face briefly showing surprise before settling into focus as she pops back up. But before she can fully orient herself, Ricky strikes with a quick drop-toe hold that sends her down again. He moves in for a spinning toe hold, his expression focused as he tries to wear her down. Marisol, showing only slight frustration, kicks him away with a powerful push, sending him stumbling back!
TODD: Ricky, trying to hit Vilaro with a barrage of rapid-fire attacks! But Vilaro manages to brush of each of them!
BAMA: Hell, I think Ricky’s more tired than #VilaroQueen after that sequence! And Ricky was the one doing the moves!
Ricky’s face shows a flicker of fatigue as he steadies himself, his breath coming a bit faster. Marisol, on the other hand, straightens up, her expression composed and her movements fluid. She looks more energized than ever, the corners of her mouth lifting in a confident smirk as she eyes him. Ricky grits his teeth, trying to stay calm but aware that he’s struggling to keep up.
As they circle each other, Marisol ducks under his arms and slips behind him, catching him off guard as she executes a snap suplex that slams him to the mat. Ricky groans as he lands, his hand instinctively going to his lower back. He looks up at her, frustration mingling with worry as he realizes she’s gaining the upper hand. Marisol, sensing his fatigue, smoothly moves in, her eyes narrowed with focus as she grabs his leg and locks in a Boston Crab.
TODD: It’s starting to feel like Vilaro has stepped into the driver’s seat here, Bama! Notice Vilaro has chosen a submission hold designed to contort her opponent’s spine! Vilaro doesn’t want Ricky to get an OUNCE of rest from this beatdown!
Ricky clenches his jaw, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he struggles against the hold!
The official leans over Goldhart, asking if he wants to tap out!
The discomfort is clear on his face…
He reaches out…
Extending his hand…
…
……
Aaaaaaand…
Goldhart manages to pull himself toward the ropes! And hook an arm over the bottom rope!
Goldhart’s chest heaves exhausted as the official barks at Vilaro to break the hold!
TODD: Impressive! Goldhart narrowly manages to survive!
BAMA: You sure, Todd? He may be tangled in the ropes, but I wouldn’t say he’s living at this point! Miss Vilaro’s just waiting to finish that BARBELL and RACK HIM UP!
Marisol releases him with a calm confidence, standing back with a smirk, her breathing steady and relaxed. Ricky’s chest heaves as he clutches the ropes, trying to gather himself.
Goldhart pants heavily, sweat dripping down his face as he struggles to rise, desperation flickering in his eyes. Marisol notices his exhaustion and smirks, her face showing a fierce resolve.
Determined, Ricky slowly rises, his face set with determination but his fatigue evident. He shakes off the pain and lunges at Marisol…
Sensing her moment, she sidesteps Goldhart’s strike, hooking his arm with precision into a front facelock!
TODD: Oh dear! Ricky might’ve come in too hot! He pretty much handed control to Marisol!
BAMA: if he had a little more gas in the tank, his wrestling instincts woulda thrown up a counter, Todd! But he’s all outta juice!
Ricky’s eyes widen in alarm, his body too drained to counter. Marisol lifts him smoothly and executes her signature Vilaróizer (Fisherman Suplex), bridging into a pin!
The official drops to count!
1!
2!
THREE!
WINNER: MARISOL VILARO!
Ricky’s face shows resignation as he lies on the mat, unable to muster the energy to kick out. Marisol releases the bridging pin, standing tall as the victor.
BAMA: What an absolute FITNESS CLINIC from the FITNESS QUEEN, Marisol Vilaro!
TODD: An impressive outing from Ricky Goldhart… technically speaking anyway… Unfortunately, while he brought the moves…
BAMA: The Goldhart couldn’t keep pumping! If I may, Toddy, I’d recommend to Mister Goldhart he drop $19.95 a month and get on the VILARO FITNESS plan today!
The crowd erupts, and Marisol raises her arms, breathing steady and victorious, while Ricky remains on the mat, gasping and defeated.
TODD: Well, Vilaro wins this match! And as such, she’ll be joining Latoya Hixx as someone qualified for the Bashmaster Classic!
…
TODD: If that’s even how the Bashmaster Classic works… We really don’t know.
TODD: Folks, so far it’s been a crazy night! Both Latoya Hixx *and* Marisol Vilaro have won their matches and will qualify for the Bashmaster Classic!
BAMA: Which, for the record, we do not know what that means!
TODD: But, there’s one spot left!
…
TODD: At least. There might be …more? But… look, I don’t really know. All we know is this match is *also* a qualifying match for the Bashmaster Classic!
&pp=ygULUyZNIHJpaGFubmE%3D
S&M By Rhianna plays throughout the arena! The crowd cheers while Summer walks down the aisle! Summer gets to ringside and walks up the ringside stairs.
TODD: Summer Page has been absolutely dominant on Anarchy in recent weeks, Bama!
BAMA: No doubt about it, Toddrick! Sum-sum beat her arch rival, Marisol Vilaro, just last week! She beat the (at-the-time) reigning XWF TV champ, Mastermind! It may be November, but it looks like the Summer Era may never end!
TODD: Not unless her opponent has anything to say about it, Bama!
Summer looks out at the crowd and raises her arms out to the crowd as the crowd cheers louder. Summer turns her attention to inside the ring where she motions to the referee to open the bottom and middle ropes so they can enter. Summer walks over to the closest ring corner and climbs up to the middle turnbuckle.
…
As the ring announcer calls his name and stats out to the arena, Major Jung is already taking an effortless stroll down the ramp. His head and upper body covered by a black zip up hoodie.
TODD: WOW! What?!? We haven’t seen Major Jung in an XWF ring since he was detained in France at Leap of Faith 2023!
BAMA: Damn, the French should’ve kept him…
He makes a vertical leap from the floor onto the front apron, grabbing the middle rope, and standing on the bottom rope, he raises a single fist into the air before vaulting into the ring with an impressive looking backflip. Showcasing his athleticism. He unzips his hoodie, showing off his incredibly shredded physique which his wrestling singlet snugs tighter than a gnat’s butthole.
TODD: Well, Major Jung, clearly itching to get back to where he started, climbing the ladder of chaos that is Anarchy… But, he is facing maybe the stiffest challenge of his career with ‘Spoiled’ Summer Page!
BAMA: And only one of these two is going to qualify for the Bashmaster Classic!
…
BAMA: Whatever that is.
The two competitors meet in the center of the ring.
SUMMER PAGE
- vs -
MAJOR JUNG Bashmaster Classic Qualifier
The bell rings, and Major Jung’s eyes flare with determination. He clenches his fists and takes a deep breath, psyching himself up as he charges forward.
With a quick movement, Jung dives low for a double leg takedown. He feels the surge of satisfaction as he catches Summer Page off guard, driving her to the ma…
…
Nope.
Despite Jung’s impressive mat skills, Page isn’t shifted more than an inch from her original position!
Jung struggles to try and heave Page off her feet, but the Spoiled One successfully jockeys and circle-steps, keeping her center of gravity low and her feet on the mat!
TODD: Wow! Page is only 120 pounds, but she’s out there handling Jung like a linebacker! He can’t advance an inch on her!
BAMA: Ya gotta remember, Toddy! Page has spent her entire career undersized, usually half her opponent’s size… Sometimes even less! Jung only has two inches and twenty pounds on her, she’s been waiting for an opponent like this her entire career!!
Jung barks, huffing and puffing to outwrestle Summer Page to the mat… But Summer lifts her knee, catching Jung in the nose, driving him back against the ropes!
Jung stutter-steps back against the ropes, shaking his head, brushing his thumb against his now-crooked nose. Meanwhile, Page smirks, brushing herself off, and rolls her shoulders, sizing her opponent up with a cold, calculating stare.
Jung grunt, determined to stay on the offensive. He tightens his jaw, dashing forward with a European uppercut, his expression fierce. Page steps… forward! Into the path of the blow!
TODD: Amazing! Page barks at her opponent, daring him to strike! Is this a miscalculation?!?
Jung’s forearm strikes Page’s chin!
Her head snaps back slightly, though her jaw tenses, and she gives him a look of pure disdain as she staggers back…
A single step!
BAMA: Jehosephat! Summer Page is tougher that a Texas tick! She just took a forearm to the chin and barely knocked a hair outta place!
Page shakes off the blow, demanding more!
More than willing to oblige, Jung quickly bounces off the ropes, lunging toward her with a running dropkick.
Summer takes the blow to the chest… and this time, she stumbles to the corner!
TODD: Jung succeeds at knocking the Spoiled One into the corner!
BAMA: If she’s so cornered, why’s her face look like she’s in control?
Page breathes in sharply, her lips curving into a dark smile as she sees the fiery underdog rushing at her again. This time, her shoulders relax as she waits, timing his approach.
Jung’s eyes show his eagerness as he closes in, but Summer moves with calculated precision, stepping aside at the last second. Her expression shifts to a look of mild amusement as she wraps her arms around his waist. Without hesitation, she hoists him up, her muscles flexing as she slams him down with a slingshot suplex.
Jung FLIES FROM ONE CORNER OF THE RING TO ANOTHER!
BAMA: LAND SAKES! What a maneuver!
TODD: Summer Page just tossed Jung out like he was a brown outfit in her closer after Labor Day!
Jung is flung like a sack of potatoes, landing in a heap! Jung hits the mat hard, his hand instinctively clutching his lower back. He groans, his head lifting just slightly, eyes squinting with effort as he tries to push himself up, wincing from the pain radiating down his spine.
Page’s lips curl into a pleased, almost taunting smile as she reaches down and yanks him to his feet. Her expression turns stern and focused as she locks her arms around his waist, pulling him in close for a snap German suplex. She lifts him effortlessly, and a glint of satisfaction shines in her eyes as she slams him back down to the mat.
BAMA: Bah GAWD!
TODD: You can’t imagine this was the return match Major Jung had in mind! But Summer Page is JUST! TOO! GOOD!
Jung’s body crumples, his face twisted in agony as he rolls onto his side, breathing heavily. He pushes his palms into the canvas, trying to rise…
…
But he’s clearly shaken and busted up! Despite the heavy damage those last couple of power moves have done, Jung’s expression a mixture of determination and growing panic as he glances up at her towering over him.
A smirk spreads across Summer’s face as she approaches him, pulling him up again, but this time she pauses, tilting her head as if savoring his battered state. She suddenly drives her knee up, landing yet another powerful high knee strike STRAIGHT to his face.
TODD: Yowch! That’s goota hurt!
Jung’s head jerks back, and he stumbles, his eyes half-lidded as he struggles to stay on his feet. Blood begins to trickle from his nose, his mouth slightly open in a daze as he takes a shaky step forward. The fire from the beginning of the match is quickly fading, replaced by a look of desperation.
Page, for a moment, for half of a splitsecond, looks to the official, barking at him to call off the match, her opponent is out on his feet…
BAMA: The Hell’s Summer up to? Sweep the Leg! Finish him!
TODD: Summer may be an antihero, but she’s still a hero! She wrestles for the competition! Jung might be in better shape on another night, but he’s beaten now, Page sees no need to beat him down any further!
Seeing an opportunity through his swollen eyes, Jung musters his strength, his gaze sharpening!
He leaps into a one-hundred-eight degree turn, springs off the ropes, attempting a moonsault with a last burst of energy!
His face a mix of focus and hope!
Cameras flash! What a maneuver! What a last-ditch miracle shot!
…
That *completely* misses the mark!
TODD: Miscalculation!
Jung’s aerial attack *was* on target, but Summer sidesteps smoothly, her expression utterly calm, her eyes fixed on him as he crashes hard onto the mat. Her expression now shows a blend of exasperation, watching Jung writhe in pain.
Slowly, she circles his fallen body, lifting him up his legs. Her eyes flash as she decides, if no one else will end this farce, it’s up to her! She locks in the Figure 8 Leg Lock with methodical precision, bridging back into the Perfect 10. Her face remains cool, above this whole charade, as she bends him back in an agonizing arc.
Jung’s eyes squeeze shut, his face twisted in sheer agony as he claws at the mat, his muscles straining against her hold!
His body trembles under the pressure, and his screams gradually weaken to low groans, his resolve shattered!!!
HE TAPS!
WINNER: ‘SPOILED’ SUMMER PAGE
Jung sinks into semi-consciousness, barely aware of his defeat as his fists weakly pound the mat!
Summer Page releases the hold as the official rushes by her side to raise her arm in victory!
BAMA: Absolutely dominant! Page squashed Jung like his name was Butternut!
TODD: Unfortunately for Jung, he didn’t make the splash he might’ve hoped with his big return to Anarchy. He’ll have other chances! But tonight is about Summer! Tonight, she wins her match! Next time, she’ll compete in the Bashmaster Classic!
…
TODD: Whatever that is.
“The Bashmaster” Barry Masterson holds a special in-ring press conference regarding the Anarchy Championship with…
TODD: Folks, it’s been one hell of a show so far, but we have one last thing for you tonight!
BAMA: Damn straight, Toddy! If you’ve seen the card at WarGames, you know… er… “Micheal Graves”... the Anarchy champion…
TODD: Who is obviously *just* Mark Flynn wearing Graves’ ‘Dark Warrior Mask!
BAMA: Fake news. Regardless, Toddy! He’ll be defending his championship belt at War Games, in one short week!
TODD: But against who, Bama? Will the Bashmaster make that clear tonight?
The buzzy, poppy tones of “Magic Carpet Ride” by Steppenwolf blares over the X-Tron… as an odd five-and-a-half-foot tall creature dressed like a BeeGee steps through the curtain!
TODD: Well, using context clues… This guy must be the Bashmaster! “Bashmaster” Barry Masterson!
BAMA: I’ve never heard of this man in my wrestling broadcasting career! …That said, I like his style!
Masterson jive-steps down the ramp to the beat of his entrance music, all the way up the steps, and into the center of the ring.
He beckons with a flick of his wrist and a member of the ring crew hands him a microphone from the outside.
”Well, does Barry know how to throw a bash or what?” Masterson holds the microphone out to the capacity crowd
They hoop and holler!
TODD: Well, these people haven’t met the Bashmaster before, but they seem to enjoy the show he’s been putting on!
”Crackerjack!” Bashmaster snaps his fingers, pointing with authority. ”But if you think the Bashmaster would blow his load early…” Barry wags his fingers. ”Not so, chaps and chapettes! The Bashmaster knows *exactly* when to CLIMAX!”
The crowd is befuddled but still cheering!
BAMA: …Is it even double entendre when he means it *this* hard?
”Now that I’ve taken you to the brink of anticip…”
…
……
…
”Pation.” Bashmaster smiles. ”Let’s bring out YOUR Anarchy champion…”
“MICHEAL GRAVES!”
In a moment, ‘Micheal Graves’, sporting his trademark ‘Dark Warrior’ mask emerges from the back! Flanked on his sides by the Students of Gravy, Peter Parkour and Miss Furry!
In his hand, he holds a post, attached to a sign above his head.
‘JOIN THE WRESTLING UNION’ Graves parades his sign urging the wrestling workers to unite, as Furry safeguards the Anarchy Title on her shoulder!
BAMA: There he is, Toddrick! The Anarchy champion AND the head organizer for the Wrestling Union! Micheal Graves!
TODD: …Okay, two points. One, he’s also the ONLY organizer of the ‘wrestling union’!
BAMA: Gotta start somewhere Toddy!
TODD: Second, he’s MARK FLYNN!
‘Graves’ skulks around the ring, occasionally swooping his cape like he’s the goddamned Phantom of the Opera or dramatically clawing his hands like he’s Bela Lugosi… it’s obvious the ‘Dark Warrior’ is hamming up the ‘Dark’ aspect of this persona.
BAMA: This is where we differ, Todd! That CANNOT be Mark Flynn! Mark Flynn is the most selfish, in-it-for-himself SCUMBAG to ever run the ropes! Why the HELL would he be out here advocating for better treatment for his coworkers?
TODD: That’s my *exact* question, Bama! Flynn is a narcissistic egomaniac… And Graves, before he disappeared, was a head-exploding psychopath! So, why is THIS ‘Graves’ doing this? What’s his angle?!?
Finally, ‘Graves’ skulks up the steps as his two students roll in after him. ‘Graves’ holds the sign up advertising the Wrestling Union…
The crowd doesn’t quite know what to make of it…
‘Graves’ holds out his hand…
Parkour reaches behind his back and retrieves…
A microphone! ‘Graves’ takes it and presses it to his lips
”Did I hear right back there?”
“Did I hear y’all were loving the… Bash, was it?”
The crowd screams again in approval!
TODD: Yep! They’re loving the show so far!
”...Why?” ‘Graves’ steps up to the ropes, challenging the crowd.
…The cheering subsides.
”Is it the… management? Is that what got you off your feet tonight?”
…Silence.
”Is it… any of the talent wranglers? What about the… marketing focus groups? What about XWF.COM’S IT DEPARTMENT?!? They’re so important, right? Is that what you liked about the show so far”
…
…’Graves’ scratches his head, acting like he’s genuinely surprised the IT department didn’t get a louder pop.
”No? None of them made this show great for you?”
…
‘Graves’ chokes up on mic, pressing it right under his chin.
”WHAT ABOUT THE WRESTLERS!?!?”
LOUD POP! The crowd immediately hops to their feet, cheering the people they came here to see.
TODD: Little bit of rhetorical manipulation there, but Flynn’s might be among the best in the business at working a crowd into a fervor.
BAMA: And he musta passed some of that knowledge onto his teacher, MY-KUHL GRAVES!
TODD: …Sigh.
”That’s right.” Flynn points out at the crowd. ”You’re here FOR WRESTLING.”
“YOU’RE not here to watch another episode in the THADDEUS DUKE DIVORCE DRAMA!”
The crowd gasps, shocked at the Anarchy champ’s brazenness!
”YOU’RE not here to watch SPLAT! TV, that FREAKSHOW… that lets overrated wrestlers who care more about their Twitter follower count than their QUALITY-of-WORK in the ring… Play dressup and pretend to be movie stars!”
”Because, if you’re here? If you’re in this building? YOU’RE REAL FUCKING WRESTLING FANS.”
The crowd cheers again, pleased to be acknowledged.
”And you paid your hard-earned money… What you work for… Out of that dwindling cash supply that you use to keep food on the table for your family, you pulled out of that… Maybe to take your kid to his very first wrestling show tonight? And if so, from the bottom of my heart… Thank YOU!”
The crowd is absolutely eating this straight out of ‘Graves’’ hand.
”You spent an average of SEVENTY DOLLARS A HEAD TO SEE US TONIGHT.”
BAMA: Damn! Bidenflation is real!
…’Graves’ leans his elbows over the ropes, trying to get on their level.
”Now… Out of that… How much of that money… that YOU worked so hard for, to pay to see WRESTLING?”
“How much of that do *you* think goes to the WRESTLERS?”
…
”Fifty percent?”
‘Graves’ shakes his head.
”Forty percent?”
‘Graves’ sneers disgustedly…
”Thirty percent?!?”
”TWENTY percent?!?”
…
‘Graves’ spits on the mat disgustedly.
”Try LESS THAN TEN PERCENT.”
…The crowd lightly boos… A handful of people in the arena feel like the math isn’t mathing.
”OF THE SEVENTY DOLLARS YOU PAID TO BE HERE… Less than SIX of those dollars are getting split among AN ANARCHY ROSTER OF THIRTY-SOMETHING!”
‘Graves’ sneers disgustedly.
”...The rest goes straight into the pockets of your executives… MORON PINHEADS WHO JUST GOT HANDED THE KEYS TO A MONEY MACHINE MADE OF HUMAN CARNAGE!”
“DOPE DO-NOTHINGS… LIKE THADDEUS DUKE! VINNIE LANE! ATTICUS GOLD! PETER PRINCIPLE!”
…
‘Graves’ turns and spins on the GM, sharing the ring with him.
”And the latest addition to this menagerie of mediocrity… ‘BASHMAS-”
”Stop right there!”
…Surprisingly, ‘Graves’ stops talking, surprised at the sudden interruption by the Anarchy GM.
”Let me just sip you in, you cool drink of water! You refreshing beverage!”
‘Bashmaster’ smiles, eyeing ‘Graves’ up and down…
‘Graves’ blushes through his ‘Dark Warrior’ mask, briefly covering himself with his picket sign.
TODD: It’s clear Bashmaster likes something about the Anarchy champion!
BAMA: Feh! Something, indeed!
”Mister Gravy! Let me speak frankly!”
…
”You’re it.”
”You’re the bee’s knees! The cat’s pajamas! The fox’s trot! The dalmatian’s syncopation! And I mean ‘syncopation’ as in a rhythm that makes everyone else on-beat look out of step, dig? That marching to the beat of your own drum has got my toes-a-tappin’ and I want to give you keys to the jukebox, dadd-i-o!”
…
Okay, now ‘Graves’ looks confused.
TODD: Frankly, I’m confused.
”I was watching you last Anarchy and my attention was… aroused, let’s say.”
…’Graves’ uncomfortably grits his teeth.
”Let’s NOT say that.”
”Quite frankly, Mister Graves… In the last few weeks, you’ve beaten Madison Dyson, Matthias Syn AND Mister Oz. You’ve run though Thursday’s top talent like tissue paper and I want to throw YOU a ticker tape parade!”
Bashmaster extends a hand to his brow in salute. ”And, Comrade? You keep impressing me, and I’ll help you stimulate the worker’s revolution myself! We’ll seize the means of production like it was a fashionable pair of Chino’s before one of my seasonal beach bashes!”
…Flynn looks back at Furry and Parkour, checking to see if they’re following this.
They both seem absolutely clueless.
”Which brings me to War Games.”
Bashmaster snaps his fingers and points at the belt on Miss Furry’s shoulder.
”I want my crown jewel gleaming at the biggest show of the year! I want the Anarchy Flag flown at full mast! I want MY Anarchy champion demonstrating why the Thursday Night Brand is… THE XWF’S NEW A-SHOW!”
The crowd pops! Absolutely delighted!
TODD: Quite a statement from Bashmaster! He clearly has high aspirations for his management of Anarchy!
”And the way to prove that is to have Thursday Night’s Top champion beat someone outside Anarchy!”
“Someone heralded as one of the best in the XWF!”
“Someone that the wrestling world claims is nigh-unbeatable!”
…
‘Graves’ lets a smile creep upon his face.
”I think I see where you’re going with this.”
…’Graves points a finger in the air.
”You want YOUR Top Guy… against THE Top Guy.”
”Exactly so, Gravy, baby!”
”You want the Anarchy Champion… Against the XWF’s Current A NUMBER ONE!”
”You wanna be the man? Then, you gotta beat the man!”
TODD: Oh my! This can only mean one thing!
BAMA: But… isn’t… HE already booked at WarGames?
…Bashmaster and ‘Graves’ trade smiles, both devilishly picturing this dream match.
‘Graves’ circles the ring, getting amped up before spinning on the crowd.
”GET SET! WRESTLING FANS! CUZ I’M TAKING THIS GIG! AND I’M WINNING THIS ONE FOR THE COMMON WRESTLER!”
“I’m gonna beat down a STOOGE that wouldn’t understand collective spirit if you shoved the complete works of Karl Marx STRAIGHT DOWN HIS GOB!”
”Haha, yes! We’re on exactly the same page, baby!”
”Because at WarGames! ‘Micheal Graves’! THE ‘DARK WARRIOR’! IS DEFENDING HIS ANARCHY TITLE!”
“Against Sebas-”
”MARK FLYNN!!”
TODD: WHAT?!?
BAMA: WHAT?!?
”WHAT?!?”
The crowd collectively goes ‘WHAT?!?’
”That’s right! The XWF’s Number One ELO! Well, let me tell you something Mister Electric Lights, my champion’s gonna take your orchestra and play you like a fiddle! Now, let’s bash!”
Bashmaster points to the sky and his music blares!
He raises ‘Gravy’’s arm, clearly confident at his champion’s ability to defeat… Mark Flynn… before he shimmy-steps up the ramp.
‘Graves’, meanwhile…
…
Is trying to figure out how he got to this point.
BAMA: Absolutely shocking, Toddy! ‘Graves’ is going to battle his own student, Mark Flynn! At War Games! With the Anarchy Title on the line!
TODD: They’re the same person, Bama!
BAMA: I know! Their styles! Their ideologies! They’ve become like brothers in recent weeks!
TODD: They’re LITERALLY the same guy!
BAMA: Can the Students of Gravy survive War Games? Can the Union remain united? You’ll have to check out War Games and find out!
Thanks to all the match and segment writers!
Charlie Nickles
Peter Principle
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