The scene opens inside of a gritty, dimly lit gym in Ironwoods MI.

The space is filled with the sounds of grunts and the thuds of bodies hitting the mat. 

In the center of the ring, we find Holden Payne locked in a grapple with his sparring partner. Their muscles strain and their expressions, while determined, twist and contort as they work to counter each other's moves on the mat. 

After a series of transitions, Holden maneuvers his partner into a painful armbar. The partner quickly realizes there's no escape and taps out.

Holden quickly releases the hold and helps him up with a nod of respect.

Holden then steps out of the ring and grabs a towel to wipe the sweat from his troubled face.

Holden's trainer, Jackie, notices his demeanor and approaches. "How you holding up, kid?"

Holden shakes his head and responds with frustration. "I’m beating myself up."

Jackie nods. "Still upset about the outcome, huh, kid?"

Holden nods. "I never should have gone for that damn diving headbutt. It was a stupid move. I blew it in my debut. (sigh) I should have just gone for the Payne Clutch and submitted Flynn right then and there."

Jackie nods. "We all make mistakes, kid. It’s part of the game, but you've gotta learn from them, not dwell on them. Besides, who knows if the Payne Clutch would have ended the match or not. You two seemed pretty evenly matched out there, if you ask me."

Holden sighs and runs a hand through his sweat soaked hair. "Yeah, I know, but still... it feels like I should have known better than to go for something like that. It's not how I was trained, but Mark had me so well scouted, and I played right into his hands by getting flustered and trying something that I typically wouldn’t have."

Jackie takes a seat next to Holden and places a hand on his shoulder. "You’re right, Mark Flynn did have you well scouted, but think about this—you went up against one of the best wrestlers in the XWF—A man who sits atop of the ELO rankings any month he's active for over a decade—and in your first professional match—you stood toe to toe with him for nearly 25 minutes and came within a cunt-hair of winning. That's impressive. You can't tell me it's not!"

Holden nods, still troubled, but a little more at ease. "Yeah, I know, you're right, but... It's just that I pride myself on being smart in the ring, on making the right decisions in the heat of the moment. In that moment, I let my emotions get the better of me. I knew I'd screwed up as soon as my feet left the turnbuckle, but it was too late to do anything about it."

Jackie chuckles softly. "Listen, kid, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and a hell of a lot of talent to boot. Don’t beat yourself up over one mistake. I’m sure you’ll make a few more before you truly find your footing."

He pauses, giving Holden a moment to let the words sink in. "And you know what? You've got another shot now. XWF management saw your performance against Flynn. They see what you're capable of. That's why you're in line for this Xtreme title shot against Corey Black. It's not some fluke, kid. You've earned it."

Holden nods. "I have to admit that it's weird getting this shot over Mark Flynn, but that's exactly why I'm putting in the work. Corey Black's no push over, and I'm not too keen on the idea of taking another consecutive loss."

Jackie nods. "Good. Corey Black is known for his no-nonsense approach. He respects real wrestling and wrestlers though, and you, Holden, are as real as they come. You’ve got the skills, the heart, and the drive, kid. Now you need to show that you’ve got the focus."

Holden stands up as the fire returns to his eyes. "You're right, Jackie. I need to stay sharp, and stick to what I know best. Corey Black has the experience over me, but so did Mark Flynn. At least here I feel like I have the advantage on the mat."

Jackie smiles with a hint of pride in his eyes. "That's the spirit, kid, and I believe you're right. Corey is more of al all-rounder than a mat technician. With a sound strategy on our end, that could spell disaster for him. We need to go over some of Corey’s matches. We need to study his every move, his strengths, his weaknesses. You need to be ready for anything."

Holden grabs his water bottle and finishes it off. "Absolutely. Corey’s got years of experience on me, but I think I've got the drive, the hunger, and the skill to serve him an upset."

Jackie claps Holden on the back. "That's what I like to hear. Now, let’s get to work. We’ve got a championship to win, kid."

The scene transitions to a montage of Holden training. 

He's watching footage of Corey Black’s matches along with Jackie. Jackie points out that Corey relies more on high-impact brawling and flashy grapples than he does pure wrestling. 

In the next shot, he's practicing counters, especially those pertaining to suplexes, and honing his techniques, most specifically his guard in hopes of dampening the impact of Corey's elbows and kicks.

Holden’s alarm clock blares at 5:00 AM sharp, and he rolls out of bed, already dressed in his workout gear of black shorts and a navy blue sweatshirt. 

He sprints through the early morning streets as the city sleeps like something out of Rocky on his way to the gym. Once there, we're gifted with quick shots of him lifting weights, running drills, and sparring with multiple partners.

Jackie stands ringside as Holden spar's, observing his progress with a critical eye and occasionally barking out pointers. "Keep those hands up, Holden! Anticipate his moves, don’t just react!"

A close up of Holden gritting his teeth as he pushed through the fatigue. His mind is a sponge, absorbing every bit of advice, every lesson, every mistake that Jackie points out. He knows that to defeat Corey Black, he has to be on top of his game—perfect—no room for error.

In the evenings, we get shots showing Holden going over footage of Corey’s matches, dissecting each move, each counter. He takes notes, rewinds, watches again. He studies Corey’s style, his savagery, his weaknesses, and plots how he could use them to his advantage.

Finally, we join Holden in the empty arena, looking out at the ring where he will soon face Corey Black. The silence of the arena is almost deafening, the scale of the challenge ahead really sinking in.

Staring down at the empty ring, Holden mutters to himself, "This is it. This is my chance to show the world who Holden Payne really is."

"Um, excuse me, sir?" 

Turning to match a face with the voice, Holden finds a lowly XWF production assistant standing behind him with a clipboard in hand.

"Um, yes, sorry—but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We're getting ready to shoot a Latoya Hixx promo."

No sooner than the words are said, thousands of "fans" begin piling into the arena.

"Oh, yeah, sorry... I didn't realize that was today." Holden walks past the production assistant, but stops, looking back. "Say, What do I have to do to get this kind of promo treatment?"

She responds with one word, posed as a question. "Win?"

---

"When you step into the gym, you're not always thinking about what's next. You're in the moment, feeling the burn, pushing your limits. That's where I've been, training my whole life, always aiming to improve. 

My debut against Mark Flynn showed me just how close I am to greatness. I almost had him. 

Almost...

But almost doesn't win accolades.

My next match is my shot at redemption. 

My chance to show the world what Holden Payne is made of. 

It's not going to be easy. I'm going up against a legend—or at least a name that carries a lot of weight—Corey Black.

Much like Mark Flynn.

I've replayed that match in my head a thousand times.

The taste of victory was so close, but in those final moments, it slipped through my fingers.

They say you learn more from losses than wins, and I’ve learned a lot. I'm letting go of the frustration and focusing on what's next. Because what's next is huge.

One mistake will not define me, and coming into this match, I'm laser focused on showing the world what I'm capable of.

I'm not backing down.

I'm not losing sight of my goals.

Corey Black, the Xtreme Champion. 

He's also a man I called out by name.

A challenge left unanswered.

You, Corey Black, have done it all. Seen it all. Everything this sport has to offer, you've experienced at some point in your career. 

Now? The wrestling world stops and takes notice whenever you step into the ring. 

However, at Warfare, it's my turn. My turn to prove that I belong here, that I deserve to stand in that ring with the absolute best, that I am a champion.

Corey, when you challenged Bulk Logan at the Revelry, you said you wanted to face real wrestlers, not gimmicks. 

Well, here I am. I'm as real as it gets. 

No flash, no gimmicks. 

Just pure shoot-wrestling in an explosive package. 

I showed that when I nearly took down Mark Flynn in my debut match at The Revelry.

The same show that you faced Bulk Logan to capture the Xtreme championship. 

The Bulkster, a man who thinks a "big" punch and a leg drop make him the greatest wrestler breathing. 

Corey, you wanted a real challenge, and you got stuck with Bulk. A guy who's more about ripping shirts and cupping his ear than actually doing anything that resembles wrestling. 

You called it in the days leading into the match.

He's a relic. 

A parody, stuck in the 80s. 

A cartoonish meathead with more brawn than brains and the agility of an Elephant.

But you, Corey, "King of the wrestlers" you sure did struggle against the uncoordinated oaf. 

You begged to face a wrestler, then showed up to brawl against a man who equates to at least two of you. 

Ballsy, granted—but not smart.

It caught me off guard to see a veteran, nay, legend such as yourself make such a drastic miscalculation in the ring, and I found it even more surprising that a man who calls himself the "King of Wrestlers" would recklessly put his body on the line in an attempt to stand toe to toe with a juiced to the gills beach bum who resembles the Gorilla he beat to get to the Revelry, when it seems to me you could have used your rush offence to chop the Bulkster down, and finished him with one of the handful of submissions you seem to employ. 

Though the biggest shock after watching that performance was the fact that you consider yourself a wrestler, when your skill set seems to favor every style, except for.

Well, ask and ye shall receive.

You wanted to face a real wrestler, and now you've got me!

You've built a legacy, Corey, and I respect that, but respect won't stop me from tapping you out on national television and making this you second unremarkable reign as Xtreme champion, but unlike the competition, I'll do it the one place you feel the safest—IN THAT RING! 

When that bell rings, respect and status isn't going to save you, if anything, it puts you in a worse position, because I know what I'm preparing to face, do you?

I'm fresh to the business, but not the game, I've been training on the mat since childhood, and I'm hungry. 

Hungry for victory. 

Hungry for redemption.

Hungry for gold—and once the bell rings, I won't stop until I have it.

I've heard a lot about you, Corey. 

The reputation you carry is immense, but before this match was booked, I'd never seen you wrestle. 

Not once. 

And maybe that's an advantage for me? 

I'm coming into this with fresh eyes, no preconceived notions, just a critical eye and a desire to succeed.

When I look at you, I see a man who's been at the top for so long he's forgotten what it's like to fight for something real. To fight with everything you've got, and then dig deep to fight a little more, because the thought of failing scares the shit out of you.

I'm not established. I have one match under my belt, and it wasn't a win. How many more of those could I rack up before this dream is dead and I'm roofing houses or helping train the next generation back at the gym?

Those that can't do—TEACH, but I'm no teacher.

You, Corey Black, you're comfortable, complacent in your position. 

A career spanning more than 20 years with so many championships that you fail to mention them anymore.  

That's not me. 

I'm hungry—starving, even!

I'm driven—more than I suspect you have been in years—and I'm ready to take that Xtreme Championship from you!

Winning that belt will mean a lot, of course, but championships aren't my only driving force. It's more about proving to myself and to the wrestling world as a whole, that I belong here, and this is my chance to carve out the first slice of my legacy.

You have the experience, the accolades, and every satiation in the country has you as the odds on favorite to retain. 

But I have something you don't. I have the hunger of a man who's been overlooked, pushed around, and told to give up all his life, yet here I am. 

I have the fire of someone who's been told he'd never amount to anything and fiercely rejected that reality. 

I have the determination of a wrestler who's ready to leave it all in the ring for the chance to walk away champion.

When we step into that ring at Warfare, it's going to be a war. A war between the old guard and the new blood. 

Between a legend and a rising star. 

A war that is guaranteed to have only one casualty.

I'm ready for that war. 

I'm ready to give you everything I've got and more. 

I'm ready to push you to your limits and for you to push me beyond mine, because for you to beat me, you're going to have to end me. If I'm breathing, I'm fighting, and if I tie you up—you're done.

You wanted real wrestlers, Corey. Well, here I am. I'm here to wrestle, to fight, to win—and at Warfare, that's exactly what I'm going to do.

This match will be a declaration that Holden Payne is not only here to stay, but a championship competitor who's not easily matched.

Corey, you’ve faced countless opponents in your career, but you’ve never faced anyone like me—I’m the embodiment of everything you once were—hungry, relentless, and desperate to make my mark!

Rest assured, I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to achieve that. 

I’ve put in the hours, the sweat, and the blood. I’ve studied your moves, your matches, your weaknesses. I know what you’re capable of, I know I have to avoid a sharp striking game and always been aware of where you are in the ring, but do you know what I’m capable of? Do you realize the world of hurt you're in for if I take you down to the mat?

You see, I’m not intimidated by your reputation. 

I don't sweat any of the accolades.

I see through the mystique. 

I see a man who’s been in the game too long, surrounded by people who placate his ego. 

I see a man who’s forgotten what it’s like to fight with nothing to lose, because Corey Black has everything to lose. 

I see a man who’s vulnerable, who’s ripe for the taking.

And make no mistake, Corey—I’m coming to take it all. Your title, your legacy, and your place at the top of the card. 

You wanted a real wrestler.

You begged for a real challenge. 

Well, here I am.

When that bell rings at Warfare, it’s going to be a battle like no other. It’s going to be brutal, it’s going to be intense, and it’s going to be unforgettable. 

You’ll throw everything you have at me, but I’ll be ready. I’ll absorb whatever punishment you throw my way, I’ll endure the pain, and I’ll keep coming back for more. 

I’m going to push you to your limits. 

I’m going to test your resolve as Xtreme Champion. 

I'm going to put to test your very will to win.

And when the dust settles, and the final bell rings, only one of us will be left standing. 

I'm pretty confident that it’s going to be me.

Warfare is going to be a turning point in both of our career's. 

It’s going to be the night that Holden Payne steps into the spotlight. 

And it'll be the night that a king lost his crown.

You’ve had your time, Corey. 

You’ve had your two week reign without so much as a peep in the Xtreme hallway. 

And that's a good thing, because when we meet in that ring, I don't want any excuses. No crying that the belt's too hard to carry, no complaining that you were worn out from the hustle. This war of the ring is going to be brutal, and it's going to leave you questioning everything you thought you knew about wrestling, about yourself, and about me.

I’m coming for you, Corey. The Payne is coming to take your championship, and there’s nothing you and your sloppy submission game can do to stop it... 

Except—TAP OUT!