Molly was taking slow bites out of an enormous candy floss at the local funfair. It was mostly out of nostalgia that she’d bought one, since she had grown a severe dislike for things that were massively inflated yet offered very little substance. That’s what having to share a company and/or brand with people like Chelsea LeClaire, HGH, John Black and even EDWARD did to you.

That Roger fella was alrite. Cheeky little sod by the looks of it, but he was funny.

In any case, the candy floss would have to do. Although she had a bit of cash following her number one contendership win over Chelsea, she wanted to save as much as she could. And while she certainly fancied a toffee apple, she wasn’t going to deprive EDWARD the pleasure of knocking them out on Anarchy.

Molly: "Bloody EDWARD. Fancies himself all that, innit? Just ‘cause he wears a bearskin instead of clothes and talks like he was born on the other side of the Mersey doesn’t mean I can’t wallop his bottom ‘till it’s as red as cousin Vicky’s face after four pints o’ lager. Cheeky little bugger, inn’e? Calling me unfocused and that. I’ll take your bloody title off of you, mate, how’s that for focus."

Molly tried to calm herself down as she was muttering through her teeth. She wanted to go on a ride, but the merry-go-round was for kids only, and she didn’t like shooting games or the coin dozers. Especially those latter ones were wildly addictive and she knew herself well enough by now to stay far away from those things. What did catch her eye however, was a purple tent with a sign stuck in front of it that said ‘Fortune Teller’. Molly didn’t exactly believe in fortune telling since it was usually a load of rubbish anyway, and they only told you things that you wanted to hear. But maybe that was exactly what she needed right now.

So she popped into the tent, only to be met with the obnoxious smell of way too much incense. She quickly gobbled up the rest of the candy floss and saw an old lady sitting at a table with a crystal ball and a deck of tarot cards. She was wearing the most stereotypical gypsy outfit imaginable although the old crone was probably as much an actual gypsy as Molly was a yank. Next to her crystal ball was an upside down hat for ‘donations’.

Molly: "Alrite?"

Molly sat down on a low stool and popped a fiver in the hat. The fortune teller started waving her hands about the crystal ball.

"I see… I see grave danger in your future!"

Molly: "Well that’s bloody likely innit, considering what I do for a living. Wait, how do you know what I do for a living?"

"I see… I see a man!"

Molly: "A caveman??"

"Errrr… Aye, aye, a caveman, lassie! And he brings with him… grave danger!"

Molly: "Hang on, is this a wind-up? You’re supposed to tell me what I wanna hear, innit?"

The fortune teller didn’t say anything, but her eyes darted back and forth from the ball to the money cap. Molly sighed and popped another fiver in there.

"I sense greaaaaaat fortune in your future! Unspeakable treasures!"

Molly: "Bloody knew it! It’s the Anarchy Championship, innit?"

"Aye, aye, that it be! That it be!"

Molly: ”Brilliant! Now read me some of those fancy cards, yeah?"

The fortune teller drew her pack of tarot cards, shuffled, and waited for Molly to drop another five pound note in the cap before laying one on the table.



Molly: "Easy enough, I’ll take it, no need to explain further!"

Another card was drawn.


"The Fool comes, and takes her place at court!"

Molly: "Wait, I’m the fool?? What a load of rubbish. Tell me more about this match I’m having!"

The old woman drew another card from the deck and placed it next to the others.


"With tools, fire and determination, the caveman comes. Determined, as he prepares to defend his shiny from outsiders, hacking and biting and bludgeoning and piercing. Great peril will come to those who oppose him."

Molly: "There’s a ‘HOWEVER’ or a ‘BUT’ following shortly, innit?"

Again, the old lady’s eyes darted towards the cap. Molly sighed again, and put in a tenner this time.

Molly: "Fuck sake. Bleedin’ me dry. This had better be good."

A final card was drawn.


Molly: "OI! That can’t be good, can it???"

"Death. The end. I see the end. The end of an era. Stale bones gargling their last breath as a new dawn prepares to rise. A new dawn, filled with morning glory."

Molly: "That makes little sense, but I assume that means I’m winning, innit?"

The eyes went back to the cap, but Molly got up from the stool.

Molly: "TAKING THAT AS A YES! Cheers and all that."

Molly exited the tent and thought about things for a second.

Molly: "Yeah, mate, why not? Why shouldn’t I be able to beat that smelly git? Sure, he’s been the champ for ages, but if you ask me he’s not even entertaining the possibility of me being able to beat him. Fella thinks he’s dead ‘ard, but he’s underestimating the fact I’m gaggin’ for some gold. And I think we can all do with some change ‘round these parts, eh? EDWARD’s not the true enemy, but he’s definitely an example of what happens when complacency becomes the status quo. And complacency is the enemy of progress. So for the brand, for me wallet certainly, and for the good of all the XWF, I’m going into this match with a clear-cut mission: Death or Glory. What’s the story? EDWARD, I’m coming for the strongest warrior in town, mate, and that’s you. And I’m taking your shiny like a Tory in a poorhouse. ‘Cause I’ll be honest, I’m kinda sick of seeing you atop the division. I’d rather have some Anarchy."