Leap of Faith Match - 24/7 Briefcase
Aidan ‘Blizzard’ Collins
- vs -
James Shark
- vs -
Sebastian Everett-Bryce
- vs -
Isaiah King
- vs -
Matthias Syn
- vs -
JC Keeton
- vs -
Dickie Watson
- vs -
Scoops McGee
RP Deadline is 11:59:59 PM PACIFIC on FRIDAY, JULY 18, 2025
All matches are 1 RP/4k unless stated otherwise.
The feed switches from a hype video of Anarchy to the ring, which looks completely different from what it has been thus far on Leap of Faith. The ropes are now solid gold. The turn buckles are diamond-encrusted. The ring mat is a magnificent red carpet with gold trim. The crowd is in a tizzy. They know something, or better yet, someone huge is about to make their presence known.
And it doesn’t take long.
Mere seconds later, “Walker” by Fitz and the Tantrums plays over the PA Speakers and Jimmy Stars comes driving out onstage on his Hoveround, flanked by several elderly men in high-priced suits!
JC: Did they change our program notes again? What is going on here?
BG: Something big! I can feel it! Otherwise, Jimmy Stars wouldn’t be strutting to the ring like this!
JC: He’s not exactly ‘strutting’, Brody.
BG: That’s ableist!
Once Jimmy gets beside the ring, he gestures to the gentlemen to help him up the stairs. Once he’s in after some good old-fashioned trial and error, they too enter the ring and file in line beside him, their faces wide and smiling just as Jimmy’s is.
Jimmy Stars: Ladies and Gentlemen, they tried to keep me down, but they’ll never hold me back for long. What’s an XWF PPV without the best thing to happen to Kentucky since Fried Chicken? I’m here tonight with a special announcement… NAY… more SPECIAL than special. I am here to personally induct a new member into the Hall of Legends!
JC: WHAT? A HALL OF LEGENDS INDUCTEE?
BG: You heard the man! Let him do his thing!
JC: HE CAN’T THOUGH! HE DOESN’T HAVE THE POWER…. AT LEAST I DON’T THINK HE DOES?
BG: Stop yelling! Let him cook.
Jimmy Stars: Without further ado, it is my honor, my privilege, and my sworn duty to introduce the XWF faithful to their newest HoL inductee. May I present to you, Mister PRESTON!!! VANDERLAY!!! ESQUIRE!!! The third? No no, not the third.
The crowd is utterly vexed, so much so they don’t know whether to boo or remain silent because, well, who the hell is Preston Vanderlay Esquire?
Suddenly, everyone jolts from the huge explosion of fireworks that goes off on the ramp, from the ringposts, and from the outskirts of the open-air Kroger Field. All eyes and heads snap toward the entrance ramp as “Run This Town” by Jay-z featuring Rihanna plays.
But wait, what’s this? The song isn’t playing, it’s being sung LIVE by Jay-Z and Rihanna. The crowd erupts as the music legends head down the path toward the ring, singing their epic song. When they get to the ringside, they suddenly pose with their fingers and heads looking skyward.
THWUMP! THWUMP! THWUMP! THWUMP!
Above Kroger Field’s ceilingless venue, a solid gold helicopter fashioned in the manner of a limousine comes into view.
JC: Is that a flying limo?
BG: I think it is!
It gets closer, closer, closer, perhaps too close now. People’s food, hats, items, and they themselves are blown over by the wind blast of the helicopter blades. Thankfully, it lands quickly in the VIP designated area provided by Jimmy Stars, and the blades wind down. The drama builds. The pilot hops out looking dapper as a don in a tuxedo, and he opens the heli-limo door.
And then…
The most handsome man an eye has ever rested upon emerges, a mile-wide grin on his face. His teeth gleam so blindingly white that front row fans shield their eyes like he’s the second coming of the sun. Draped in a radiant white tuxedo with obnoxious gold, he struts with exaggerated pomp of a man who expects applause simply for his presence. The crowd offers a mixed but audible reaction, which he graciously pretends is a standing ovation.
Behind him, like disciples flanking a prophet, emerge his three loyal disciples: Briggs Wellington, the towering juggernaut in a custom powersuit two sizes too tight across his chest, Dashford Luxe, the wiry, high-flying heartthrob in designer shades and a silk scarf, and Regan Vale, the MMA-trained dynamo in heels and a tailored blazer.
The foursome makes quick work to the ring and, upon getting in, are all hugs and handshakes with Jimmy and the men in suits. Jimmy hands Preston the mic, and the newly inducted Hall of Legend’s legend turns toward the camera and the fans.
PRESTON VANDERLAY ESQUIRE: Thank you, Jimmy, my friend, and thank you, great XWF loyal! I think I’m the first in XWF history to be future-actively inducted into the XWF Hall of Legends. That just goes to show you the generational talent that I am, and Jimmy Stars, as always, is ahead of all his counterparts and contemporaries when it comes to promoting and managing brands. Jimmy sees the talent, the greatness, the GOATNESS oozing from me and already knows what I’m gonna do.
Preston turns to Jimmy and places a hand on his heart, giving Jimmy a very heartfelt look and gesture. Jimmy returns the sentiment as the fans have already seen enough of this man and are booing the fuck out of him.
BG: Only on XWF can you get this kind of content. This type of first-time-evers. Jimmy Stars is a visionary. He sees the vision in Preston!
JC: Are you kidding me? The man has stolen a Hall of Legends spot from someone who ACTUALLY earned it. This is a farce!
PRESTON VANDERLAY ESQUIRE: Now, I’m sure you’re asking yourself why I have received this honor. Well, simple. I am a visionary like Jimmy. Not only am I the first to be future-actively inducted into the Hall of Legends, I’m the first to improve and perfect the classic but seldom-used Freebird Rule. These three bad-asses beside me are going to fight my matches for me, and when they win, I get credited with the victory. Titles, glories, main event spots, big time feud matches, all mine thanks to these three pure bad ass students of mine.
The fans aren’t liking this at all, and Jimmy’s hush-up gestures to them add fuel to their jeer-filled fire.
PRESTON VANDERLAY ESQUIRE: Just look at who these warriors are. Look, feast your eyes, XWF fans! We’ve got..
He fist bumps the big guy, who then roars mightily.
PRESTON VANDERLAY ESQUIRE: Briggs Wellington… this man can bench press a Buick. When the aliens arrive, he’s the one I’d send to Hulk smash them to bits.
Another fist bump goes to the wiry fashion stud with the scarf and cool guy smirk.
PRESTON VANDERLAY ESQUIRE: This young man is Dashford Luxe….. Quicker than a hiccup, knows all the flips and twists and so much more, but I won’t spoil that. He cannot bench press a Buick… but he can press your girlfriend’s ovaries into overdrive.
On cue, Dashford tosses a seductive look at the first row, and a few women can be heard howling in favor of him. Preston chuckles and extends a final fist bump, this one to the bouncy blonde badass with the wild eyes.
PRESTON VANDERLAY ESQUIRE: And wow, this one here… not as big as Briggs and not as flashy as Dashford, but let me tell you something…. THIS woman right here, Regan Vale, is who Chuck Norris calls for advice! She rocked folks in MMA, toured the UFC, and is now gonna be pummeling Anarchy in my name.
Regan unloads an impressive array of kicks and punches that get some approval from the otherwise hostile crowd. Or maybe they like her because she’s cute.
PRESTON VANDERLAY ESQUIRE: That’s right, everyone. I’m HIM. I’m “Himothy.” Every match I’m booked in, I get to select one of these three to fight in my place. And I couldn’t have done it without this great man right here named Jimmy Stars… as well as the board of directors here also.
Preston nods to the older men in suits, who nod back and are all smiles because they’ve been paid handsomely to pull this bullshit off.
PRESTON VANDERLAY ESQUIRE: But, most importantly, I want to thank the one who steered me in this direction. I know you’re out there watching this right now, so, Maraeth, and my colleagues in the Black Rainbow, thank you.. Thank you so very much!
The crowd explodes with boos. LOUD!
JC: Just when this couldn’t get any worse, he drops the news that he’s in the Black Rainbow! First, it was this FARCE Hall of Legends induction. Then it was the Freebird Rule cowardice. Now Black Rainbow. Somebody cut that man’s mic.
BG: I… I don’t know how to feel right now.. I’m… at a loss.
PRESTON VANDERLAY ESQUIRE: Now, let’s cap this off with the afterparty.
Jay-Z and Rihanna crank up more live music as dancers and servers file out of the limo-helicopter, serving drinks and food to Preston, his students, Jimmy Stars, Jay-Z, Rihanna, and the Board of Directors.
Backstage, Solomon Kline and Aidan Collins are talking. They are both dressed in black suits. Solomon has his X-Treme title draped over a shoulder. Solomon sips from a red Solo cup as they converse.
Aidan Collins: Solomon! Are you...drinking before your match?
Solomon takes another sip before answering him.
Solomon Kline: Oh this? No, didn't you hear? Kroger recently started selling Non-Alcoholic Guinness. Loophole, my dude. It tastes like the real thing. Want some?
He offers a nearly empty cup to his Tribe compatriot. Aidan shakes his head no while politely pushing the cup away.
AC: No, thanks. I'm good. Don't you have a match to get ready for? Your title is on the line. It's time to get serious!
SK: You worry too much, Unc. Acting like I haven't been vigilant, looking over my shoulder constantly and still keeping this title despite a few times I may have imbibed a bit too much. I've been preparing to face Tatiana ever since the match was announced. I practiced the FUCK outta some submissions. Don't you have a Leap of Faith match to prepare for later?
Suddenly...
WRESTLING HAS MORE THAN ONE ROYAL FAMILY!
The crowd in the stadium erupts when they hear the iconic theme music!
SK: Aidan. Did you hear that?
AC: Hear what? You rambling about how you're not throwing away your shot?
SK: I mean I AM young, scrappy and hungry...just like my country...but no, I heard like theme music, but I'm the first match, which clearly hasn't started yet. So odd.
And then...
ADRENALINE IN MY SOUL, EVERY FIGHT OUT OF CONTROL!!!!1
Now...it's Razor Blade with a big boot to Solomon out of nowhere! He narrowly missed hitting Aidan with it. Behind him is a referee as Solomon falls, dropping his X-Treme title and his now empty solo cup. Razor goes for a cover and the referee counts as Aidan barely holds back laughter.
1...
2...kickout! Solomon scurries on the floor and makes it to his feet, as does Razor. Solomon brushes off his suit and looks at Razor, who is simply staring at the man he just attacked.
SK: What, do you want an autograph or something? Don't you have a match to prepare for as well?
Razor Blade just stands there for a moment like an NPC. Suddenly, Latoya Hixx shows up, flanked by Steve Sayors.
Latoya Hixx: THE AMERICAN STORM IS BACK! WE WILL WIN!
THE AMERICAN STORM walks away from the scene, followed by a referee and now Steve Sayors. Aidan and Solomon exchange a glance and then a laugh.
AC: So...what do you wanna talk about?
Then more laughter between the Tribesmen as they part ways, each going to prepare for their respective matches tonight.
JC: Partner, this show has already been unbelievable, and we still haven't had our first match!
BG: Well that’s about to change, baby. This crowd here in the bluegrass state is pumped for some Xtreme Wrestling Federation action, and so am I!
JC: Well, then there’s no better way to kick this off than with this first contest here, as the XWF Xtreme Champion, Solomon Kline defends against Tatiana Jolee in an XTreme Rules Submission match!
BG: Talk about both of these two being at home in this environment, Solomon Kline who we saw go beyond XTreme at Rebellion can be as violent as the come, and Jolee of course, a submission wrestling expert. Boy this is gonna’ be good!
[/white]
The guitar opening of “Plowed” by Sponge begins to play over the P.A system bringing attention to the stage as the lights strobe as if in sync with the tempo of the song.
Will I wake up, some dream I made up
No, I guess it's reality
What will change us, or will we mess up
Our only chance to connect with a dream
-KA-BOOM!-
The fireworks explode off the top of the tron bringing the end to the strobes as a spotlight illuminates the figure of Tatiana Jolee standing there. Dressed in her blackout ring attire with matching boots and pads - her hair is pulled up in a bun and she has a black leather jacket with the Canadian flag on the back.
JC: And here she comes, BG. Tatiana Jolee. She’s a world class veteran in this industry, someone who has been so close, time and again here in the XWF- coming up just short in these championship matches. But tonight, she’s focused. She’s ready to lean on her experience tonight against a man campaigning for Rookie of the year. She said she’s like a ferocious honey badger!
BG: They don't even have honey badgers in Canada, Jack!
JC: I… I don’t actually know if that’s true or not
Say a prayer for me
(Say a prayer for me)
Say a prayer for me
Say a prayer for me
(Say a prayer for me)
I'm buried by the sound
Of a world of human wreckage
In a world of human wreckage
In a world of human wreckage
Where I'm lost and I'm found, and I can't touch the ground
I'm plowed into the sound
Announcer: “Making her way to the ring, from Vancouver, British Columbia… TATIANA JOOOOOLEEEE!”
To see wide open with a head that's broken
Hang a life on some tragedy
Plow me under the ground that covers
The message that is the seed
With a confident expression, she heads down the ramp, walking up the ring steps and gliding across the apron. She pauses briefly to wipe her boots on the apron out of respect for all who share this ring. TJ enters through the middle ropes giving the hard camera a smirk and a little wink while removing her jacket before using the ropes in the corner to do one last mini-stretch - gathering herself for the fight ahead.
"Dethrone" by Bad Omens plays throughout the arena. The lights go out. Once the beat drops, a spotlight shines on the entryway, where Solomon Kline appears inside the light, clad in a black hoodie over his ring gear and kneeling on his right knee.
JC: And here comes the Xtreme Champion, Solomon Kline!
BG: Oh yeah! Look at him kneeling there… his focus before big matches may be second to none!
JC: Ever since picking up that big win at Rebellion, alongside his father, Kline has been on a mission! He upended one of the best wrestlers in the planet in Dickie Watson, sneaking up and taking the Xtreme Championship backstage, and now, he looks poised to make his first defense here at Leap of Faith!
As the lyrics come in, he stands, removes his hood and surveys the crowd as sparks rain down around him. He grooves his way toward the ring, and high fives fans along the way. He circles the ring and slides under the bottom rope. He continues rocking out to the song and goes to the turnbuckle to let out a primal scream, singing along to the lyric, "Here am I, take me to the pearly gates, so I can look you in the eye when I spit in your face!"
Solomon Kline stands tall, looming in the center of the ring like an executioner in waiting. His chest rises and falls slowly. His jaw clenches, eyes narrowed, not from anxiety, but anticipation. There’s no twitch of nerves. No false movement. Just that cold, mechanical stillness before an impact.
Across from him, Tatiana Jolee doesn’t blink. Her lips press into a thin line. Her feet shift subtly. She’s calculating. A veteran's mind behind every flicker of muscle.
She sees Kline twitch forward. No patience.
She moves first.
Her face flashes with purpose, brows knitted, jaw tight, as she darts in low, feinting high then slipping under. She grabs a rear waistlock and strains, her teeth grit from the effort of lifting someone nearly twice her mass…but it’s not enough.
Solomon’s eyes narrow, his brow furrows with disdain. He lurches forward and throws her off his back like garbage from a stoop. She lands hard but rolls out, unshaken. Her lip curls into a smirk.
JC: Oh! Kline showing here early that he’s not planning to be thrown off guard by Jolee’s in-ring prowess
BG: Kline is a behemoth, Jacko. Tatiana is going to have to get real crafty if she plans to wear him down into submission
She circles back in, this time faster. Her face shows precision…every step calculated. She spins in—arm drag, then a snapmare, and without pause a dropkick to the spine.
Solomon arches forward from the sting. His nostrils flare. He pushes up slowly, rising like a mountain. The humiliation burns. He shakes it off and lunges.
His face twists—feral and wide-eyed—as he charges with a clothesline. Tatiana ducks low again. Her eyes flick up—she sees the opening—and grabs for a teardrop suplex.
His mouth opens in a snarl. No.
He lifts her instead, dead-weight, and slams her flat with a thunderous blue thunder bomb. The ring echoes with a hollow boom. Her eyes squeeze shut, her back arched in reflexive pain. Her hands clutch the mat. Air escapes her in gasps.
Solomon stays on a knee, looking down at her. His mouth is slightly open, panting—not from exhaustion, but anticipation. He rises. Slow. Purposeful.
His lips twitch upward into a cruel smile.
JC: It looks like Solomon Kline has some bad intentions in mind here
Then he slips out of the ring.
The crowd sees it before she does: Kline pulls a kendo stick from under the apron. He grips it like a lifeline. His eyes are wide with anticipation.
Tatiana blinks against the lights, her fingers tightening against the canvas as she struggles to pull herself up by the ropes. Her eyes find him—just in time to see him raise the cane.
CRACK.
Her back jerks, body tensing from the first strike. Her mouth opens but no sound comes out.
CRACK. Her thigh. She drops to a knee, clutching it.
CRACK. Across her shoulders. Her face twists—not just in pain, but in fury now. Her eyes narrow through the hurt.
Solomon’s nostrils flare. He’s savoring the sound. The feel. His body relaxes with each shot, like he’s finding rhythm in the violence.
But as he lifts again, Tatiana whirls around.
Her expression is twisted with defiance, eyes locked on his core. She springs forward and snaps him with a reverse atomic drop, then plants her knees into his jaw with the Double Clutch!!!!!
Solomon’s face snaps upward, his head jerking back on impact. He stumbles, caught off guard, and crumples to a knee. He shakes his head, trying to regain clarity.
SECOND DOUBLE CLUTCH!!!
Tatiana is up, gripping her ribs, breathing heavy. She grabs Kline’s Kendo stick and thwacks him across the forehead with him, before throwing it to the mat. She climbs out of the ring now and flips up the apron, going for a weapon of her own choosing, before returning with a steel chair.
BUT KLINE IS UP TO HIS FEET!
THWACK AGAIN!
It didn’t matter, Tatiana leaps into the air and cracks him over the skull with the chair. He falls back into the ropes, busted open now… ANOTHER CHAIR SHOT FROM JOLEE!!!
With Kline reeling, she sees the opening and lunges, wrapping her arm around his head CROSS FACED CHICKEN WING!!!
She drops down, grapevines the leg.
Solomon’s eyes widen. His limbs thrash. For the first time tonight, his expression shows doubt—pain and panic fusing as he drags himself toward the ropes.
Tatiana wrenches deeper. Her teeth bare in exertion. She’s screaming with effort now, trying to drain the big man dry.
Solomon roars—raw, animalistic—and pulls them both across the canvas until they tumble under the bottom rope to the floor.
Outside, Solomon’s face is a mask of fury. Blood drips from his forehead, and there’s a shimmer of sweat down his temple. He looks down at her like she just tried to drown him—and now it’s his turn.
But as he picks her up, Jolee counters. A spinning kick to the midsection, followed by a running forearm attack. Kline is reeling, and Jolle plants him down to the floor with a dragonscrew before starting to work on the leg. She wrenches it over and locks him in a single leg boston crab. Jolee pulls back, screaming as she pulls tighter. Kline hollers out in pain himself, but pushes himself up on his hands, using every bit of his might to fling Jolee off. Jolee falls forward, and head first into the steel ring steps. Kline limps up to his feet, trying to walk through the damaged that was just inflicted. He walks over to Jolee and grabs the challenger by the hair. But an elbow to the gut from Jolee, and a side russian legsweep! Jolee leans over the champion, ready to lock in another submission hold—
BUT KLINE!
HE JABS A THUMB RIGHT INTO HER EYE AND JOLEE IS BLINDED!
Kline reaches into the ring, where the Kendo stick is still there waiting.
CRACK!
Again the kendo stick smashes into Jolee’s forehead and she crumbles to the arena floor.
Kline yanks her up by the throat, rage tightening every vein in his arm, and drives her spine-first into the steel steps with a chokeslam.
JC: A devastating move from Kline there! If this match were decided by pinfall, like a typical XTreme Rules contest, this one might be over
BG: But it’s not, partner. If Kline is going to pickup the win here tonight, he’s going to have to reach into his bag of tricks, and hope that maybe he’s picked up a submission move or two from his partners in the Tribe or from his daddy.
Tatiana’s face contorts—mouth open, arms flailing like a bug on its back. She coughs violently and curls into herself.
Solomon stands over her, breathing heavy. His eyes scan the field. Then narrow. An idea.
He turns and climbs into the ring. He sets up the chair in the corner, then looks back at her crumpled form.
His mouth twitches again. He’s smiling.
JC: Oh no… Solomon’s lining it up.
BG: We know how much Kline loves his kendo stick, so you know he’s got something big in mind by using a chair here
He sprints.
Tatiana, barely conscious, sees the blur through foggy vision. Her eyes widen, but there’s no time to brace.
BOOM.
His boots drive the chair into her face with sickening force. Her whole body shudders from the impact. She falls limp onto the mat.
Solomon grabs her, dragging her like a ragdoll. There’s no emotion now—just routine.
He slides her up to her feet and sets her up for Dust to Dust!!!!
But her eyes snap open.
In a desperate burst, she flips free—twisting, small-package cradle!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE…. NO! There’s no pinfalls here!
JC: Jolee would’ve had the win right there! But I don’t know why she’s trying to pin? Maybe out of instinct, maybe trying to catch her breath?
BG: Would’ve, could’ve, DIDN’T! She knows the rules here, I don’t know why she’s deliberately breaking them.
JC: Rules… in an Xtreme Rules match. Weird.
Solomon pops free, and his face is nothing but white-hot fury. No smirk now.
He hurls himself forward with a superkick….
-CRRRRAAAAACCK-
…her head snaps to the side, and she collapses like she’s been unplugged.
Kline glares at her legs… then down at the mat. The crowd catches on first.
He steps over.
Grabs her ankles.
Twists.
Sharpshooter.
Tatiana’s eyes bulge open!!!
The pain is immediate.
Her back bends, contorted like a bowstring. She claws the canvas, screaming, fighting—but her body has no fight left.
JC: She’s tapping! She’s tapping
BG: IT’s over!
Winner by Submission and STILL XTreme Champion: Solomon Kline
Solomon lets go and stands slowly. He doesn’t celebrate. He doesn’t raise the title.
He looks down at her—bent, broken, writhing in pain.
And then he smiles.
JC: She fought with everything she had. She almost outwrestled him!
BG: Almost doesn’t win titles. Solomon Kline just made a statement…and used her own legacy to do it! Tatiana tried to make an Xtreme Rules fight a wrestling match, and Kline was able to turn it against her.
JC: This won’t be the last time we hear from Jolee, Brody, but right now, tonight is about Solomon Kline punching the first of 5 Xtreme title defenses on his way to claiming a 24/7 briefcase!
June 29, 2025.
Peter Principle adjusts a few things on his desk. The desk itself is modern and sophisticated, black oak and all perfect ninety degree angles. Peter slides a cup holding pens a fraction of a measure, be it metric or otherwise. He looks into a mirror on his desk, checking his teeth for any irregularities or stray bits of food within. The door to his office opens, and Bobby Bourbon walks in.
“Bobby. Sit.”
Peter gestures with an open palm to a low seated chair opposite his desk. Bobby sinks down into it, leaving him lower than Peter. Peter folds his hands.
“You wanted to see me?” Bobby half smirks, cocking an eyebrow, uncertain about whatever this could be about but knowing it could be about a good many things. Peter clears his throat.
“Bobby, I wanted to discuss your performance in the XWF of late. First, I would like to hear what you think of it.” Peter leans back in his chair, narrowing his gaze and looking down his nose at Bobby.
“Well, I mean, TK and me have made some great headway in giving credence to the Anarchy Tag Titles, and I feel I have been a good representative of the company.” Bobby looks nowhere as he says all of this, his delivery bringing an unabashed earnestness.
“TK and ‘I’, Bobby.” Peter smugly corrects Bobby’s grammar.
“Nah, I'm TK's tag partner, what are you getting at Peter?” Bobby smiles. Peter rolls his eyes at Bobby’s obtuse response. He clears his throat again.
“Well, Bobby, there are a few other occurrences I wanted to discuss. For instance, we did a house show in Butte, Montana.” Bobby’s cheeks broaden as he smiles.
“Yeah, that was great, I wrestled those three truckers and endeared myself to the crowd!” Peter shakes his head in disdain as Bobby says this.
“No, Bobby, you went out and claimed that you were a Butte-head like everyone in attendance then engaged in a brawl with three drunken fans.” Bobby half shrugs to Peter's response.
“I mean, when you put it that way it's not as fun sounding.”
“Then there was the incident in Peoria.” Peter folds his arms across his chest as Bobby’s pride visibly swells.
[/bobby]“Oh, man, that was awesome, everyone in attendance got a free piece of cake.”
“Bobby, you got Food Network's Duff Goldman to get a team to make an entire XWF wrestling ring out of cake and replaced the actual ring with it. When the show began, Tropical Punch and Lionel Pennyfarthing simply sank into it, the entire show had to be postponed for several hours.” Bobby nods.
[bobby]“...And everyone in attendance got a free piece of cake.” Peter sharply exhales at the sheer simplicity with which Bobby regards himself in the right.
“Bobby, this is serious. Let me get to the heart of the matter. Your Revolution buddies, it seems, have forgotten about you, maybe they're as tired of your antics as I'm finding myself. The thing is, Bobby, I think if you could pivot, and refocus, you could be a great asset for us in the XWF. You've had a hall of fame career, you're absolutely capable of being a true monster in the ring, and I think if the two of us could harness that, there'd be nothing but great things for you.” Bobby blinks slowly.
“I think I get what you're saying. Well, I appreciate the idea, how about this, what if I represent the XWF at WrestleStock?” Peter smiles as Bobby asks permission for something.
“That sounds amicable!”
Today.
Backstage at Leap of Faith, we see Bobby enter Peter Principle's office. Peter is in his wheelchair, and scowls at Bobby as he enters. Pip Collins flanks Peter.
“Damn, Peter, you look like I beat you up.” Bobby’s eyes widen at the signs of the vicious beating delivered by the Black Rainbow.
“Mr. Bourbon, please, Peter is being quite the trooper right now by just being here. What do you need?” Pip looks inquisitively at Bobby.
“Well, I wanted to report that my time at WrestleStock stock was an absolute success, are you happy with the performance?” Bobby smiles and looks from Peter to Pip and back to Peter. Peter holds up a little bell, glaring at Bobby, and rings it twice. Bobby looks at Pip. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means no, Mr. Bourbon. Peter is incapable of speaking, one ring means yes, two rings means no.” Bobby looks somewhat confused.
“That seems, I dunno, couldn't he just give a thumbs up or thumbs down? This seems like a marketing ploy to sell little bells.” Bobby’s obtuse nature takes over his entire visage. “And what do you mean ‘no’? I represented the company fantastically, everyone was happy.”
Pip rolls their eyes. “Bobby, unlike Enigma, who went out and represented the XWF in the ring, you went and provided catering backstage!”
“That was damned good catering, I catered the fuck out of WrestleStock! Vegan, Keto, Paleo, and even just regular ass food, all of it was good, no complaints whatsoever.” Bobby’s become very defensive regarding his cooking.
“That’s not the point, Bobby.” Pip glances at Peter, then back at Bobby. “We thought you were going to compete.”
“When it comes to my cooking there is no competition!” Bobby proudly reaffirms the statement with a nod. “Anyhow, look, the reason I'm here is Dolly. Look, she and I go way back, and Revolution or no, the fans love her, maybe you could relent in this whole cancelling her whole XWF contract thing? I mean, it'd be a shame if she went to another company and started tearing the house down there, when you think about it, plus she's been here so long she's almost synonymous with the XWF itself.”
Peter rings his little bell.
“Oh, great, great! You won't regret this, see, we’re making headway to collaborating, making things better together, giving the fans…”
Peter rings his little bell a second time.
“OH COME ON!” Bobby looks flabbergasted as Peter smirks. “Really? I mean, you have a thumb, up or down, it's that simple, you're just messing with me with that bell!”
“Mr. Bourbon,” Pip interjects, “Dolly Waters and your former associates in the Revolution have put themselves in the predicament they find themselves in. Now how about you consider whether you want to share their problems or enjoy your success on Anarchy. That said, is there anything else Mr. Bourbon?”
Bobby looks at Pip then back to Peter.
“You got a real nice desk, Peter.”
Bobby leaves the office.
Earlier in the day
In the afternoon hours before the PPV, Tommy and Reggie decided to visit the University of Kentucky to host a small thing inside the Gatton Student Center, and hand out tickets to the Leap of Faith event. During the meeting, Reggie was asked by different students on how the matches will go.
Student 1: Hey Reggie, I don’t know much about wrestling, and I wanted to know…. Do you think I should have it?
Then Tommy and Reggie speak quietly to themselves to observe the late teen man with an Obese build.
Reggie: Hey, if you think you want to do it, then maybe you can be my partner against Blade and Hixx tonight, anyone would want that?
Then the students and visitors all cheered as the kid sat back down and handed the mic to one of the coordinators, then another student got a question in.
Student 45: I soooooo want to know…. Who’s gonna become the Uni Champ…Charlie the gawd…or Dolly Folly the flusey slut!?
Then “oohs” and “ahhs” and snickers are around the students and visitors as Tommy and Reggier laughed.
Reggie: Hey I don't like Charlie… but if i had to say…. I don’t want Dolly to leave the fed ya know?... what you think of Tommy?
Tommy: Me?.... Well… I never had a chance to um… face either of them (winks hard)... but if I was betting man…. I wouldn’t put my bet on either of them… screw em!
Then the crowd chanted and veered towards Tommy’s comments, as he steps back to hand Reggie the mic. Then another student, who seems to be a fan of THUGS, asks Reggie a question.
Fan 2: Hey Reggie, i heard that you walked out of Waffle house last time… is that true?
The “oohs” came in galore, as Reggie tried not to remember that incident, as Tommy takes the mic to speak on that incident.
Tommy: Well, we didn’t know that spot in your area was um…um… like that so, we cut our time there to eat some McD’s… any other questions not relating to Waffle House?... anyone?
Silence was in the crowd, then Reggie decided to speak on the mic to the people in the student center. As he was about to speak, Hixx and Blade impersonators came on the stage to interrupt him. As they speak, they are boo’ed so hard that someone in the crowd decided to throw their trash at them. As the impersonator tries to get a word in, Tommy and Reggie let them have their moment of shame to be in. Then Tommy stops the crowd to continue the event.
Tommy: Listen here American Storm, you both don’t know what you are going to deal with tonight in the Kroger Field… home of the WILDCATS!
Then the crowd in the center come to life with “WILDCATS” in unison, as Reggie gets in front of the impersonators.
Reggie: Let me tell you both something, you might not be the best team… hell i know you both got some bad blood with one another… as someone mentioned before, you CHOKED your chances to being #1 contenders to the glorified vanity Them No Good Bastards tag titles. You both CHOKED at a chance to be so called dominant force on XWF ground, and tonight as bell time comes around… you both are going to feel the pain of a afro-latino manic in that ring…ojo y ojo dona esmasa tu comprendo cacas!
Then the fakes backed off the stage as the crowd signaled the CHOKED sign towards them, as Tommy and Reggie looked on with glee. Then one of the students decided to go on the stage, push the fakers off the stage and fight them, until security of the building came to break it up. After that was done, Tommy had the coordinators give him a box. As he opens the box, its tickets to the Leap Of Faith show.
Tommy: For your time folks, I wanted to give you guys tickets to see this big event. This one time event where shit finna pop off… with my own money, I invite you all to see this event… see my boy Reggie CHOKE out the American Storm once and for all!
Then Tommy throws the Leap of Faith tickets to the crowd, then it cut back to the ring as the next segment occurs.
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 are! Check the Doppler Radar! Batten down the hatches! The American Storm is HERE!
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: The Storm! Latoya Hixx! And Lexington’s own! Razor Blade!
BG: …I’ve told you this before, Jacko! Razor’s from ATLANTA!
''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: This all started at XWF’s last pay-per-view, Rebellion! Where American Storm came inches away from winning a #1 contender’s match for the Anarchy Tags… But it was stolen by the THUGs and the interference of Reggie Estrada!
BG: Not only did Reggie turn the tide in favor of the THUGs, he had the audacity to put up the Reggie Miller choke gesture after the match, reminding American Storm how they let the opportunity for their first championship gold slip from their fingers!
BG: Since then, we’ve seen Razor and Latoya wage war on each other! On Warfare AND Anarchy! And now they recombine to face a common enemy! Can Reggie Estrada possibly survive the storm!
''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 smoke fills up with gray on the stage, as the arena lights flickers. Then once we see "The Rebellious One" on the X-Tron, then we hear the boom bap of 1999 on the the X-Tron itself.
JC: There he is! The man once known as ‘Wrestler82’! He luchas with mucha gusta! Reggie Estrada!
BG: We’ve seen Estrada be the energizer! The electrifier that drives his team to victory! We’ve seen him steal upset pinfalls off some of the biggest names in the XWF to win the X-Treme title! But can Reggie Estrada sail through a focused, DIALED-IN American Storm!
Then we see Reggie coming onto the stage with his hoodie on, and he shadow boxes infront of the camera and talkin’ smack as he walked down, then he gives the fans on the ramp some dap as he went to the ring. Then he simply sildes into it…
When suddenly Razor and Latoya immediately launch itself forward with kicks and stomps onto Reggie mid-slide!
JC: Hey! The bell hasn’t rung yet!
BG: Looks like Razor and Latoya are just ITCHING to punish Reggie for that choke gesture!
DING DING!
Reggie Estrada
- vs -
Latoya Hixx & Razor Blade Handicap Match
Hixx grabs the top rope for leverage as she plants vicious BOOTS on Estrada’s back!
Reggie tries to defiantly shove himself off the mat, but he’s already being overtaken. Razor slams a forearm across his back, and Reggie’s jaw clenches in pain, his limbs snapping tight as he stumbles forward.
JC: The official’s gotta step in and lay down some order here!
BG: Jacko, would you want to try and tame the American Storm? No? Then maybe lay off the official!
Latoya takes a step back as Reggie slowly peels himself off the mat…
WHAM! Hixx pummels Estrada from the side with a crushing double axe handle.
Once more, Estrada gets blasted down, back to face-first against the mat!
BG: Sure looks like Estrada doesn’t like the numbers game when it’s played on him, huh, Jacko!
JC: …sigh, I can’t argue with that, Brody. Estrada took advantage at Rebellion of the numbers game… But, if Storm think Estrada’s gonna roll over and die? They’ve got another think coming!
Reggie drops to his knees, gasping, arms trying to shield himself. His face tightens in frustration, gritting his teeth, eyes darting to the ref as if asking for help—but none comes.
Razor yanks him up by the head, his expression calm now, cold and calculated, as he drives Reggie down with a Russian Legsweep.
Reggie’s body hits the mat with a thud!
BG: Beautiful maneuver by Blade!
Razor drives an elbow to Estrada’s face as he presses on Estrada’s shoulders!
1!
TW-Kickout!
JC: Defiant kickout from Reggie Estrada, refusing to even give away a two-count that Storm hasn’t earned by beating him unconscious!
BG: Gutsy, but foolish, Jacko! Reggie’s running a marathon, not a race! If he wants a prayer of surviving this one, he’s gotta expend that energy wisely…
From the mat, Reggie’s eyes blink rapidly! His lip curls—not in defeat, but determination. He rolls to his side, clutching his ribs but already trying to get his knees underneath him.
The crowd begins to chant: “REG-GIE! REG-GIE!”
…Razor peers around at the crowd, before scooping Reggie by the scruff of his neck… And shoving him back against the corner! Reggie cradles his back as it rattles against the turnbuckle!
The official finally pipes up, beckoning Latoya to the apron…
Latoya’s lip curls into a sneer, dismissing the official… As she charges, sensing Reggie getting up, eager to flatten him. Her heavy boots stomp like thunder, and her hands swing wide as she goes for a…
CORNER SPLASH!
…
DODGED!
Reggie sees it coming—eyes wide with urgency—and drops flat to the mat, slipping out of the corner just in time!
The crowd hoops and hollers!
JC: There’s life in Estrada yet!
Latoya slams into the turnbuckles, her face crunching in shock and pain, arms splaying out as she reels backward.
Reggie spins up from the mat, his mouth open as he breathes in the cheers, expression fierce now.
Razor, not wanting to lose control of this one, goes to grapple Reggie!
…But Estrada ducks under!
Reggie rockets into the ropes, launching back with raw adrenaline!
Razor spins around…
As Reggie sails through the air…
FRONT FLIP DROPKICK!
JC: Holy COW! What a move by Estrada!
Reggie’s boots catch the top of Razor’s skull! Razor bumps backwards, rolling to the ropes…
The fans erupt, and Reggie pops up, wide-eyed and fired up, raising a fist to the crowd! Sweat runs down his face, but there’s clarity in his eyes!
JC: Reggie’s finding his groove here!
From the mat beside the corner, Latoya shoves herself and charges, looking to tackle Reggie to the mat!
…
NOPE!
Reggie slides under, between Latoya’s legs, his eyes focused, ducking and catching her off-balance.
BG: This kid moves like a pinball running on jet fuel!
Latoya, shocked at Estrada’s agility, spins around…
As Reggie’s arms latch around…
JAPANESE ARM-DRAG!
Latoya hits the mat, grunting, her face twisted in confusion and rage, flailing to get up faster than her balance allows. She goes to dive back onto Reggie…
But the ref finally gains control, blocking her access to the rest of the ring with his whole body, forcing Hixx towards the apron.
JC: Finally! Reggie survives the tornado tag onslaught that is American Storm and we finally settle into traditional tag rules!
Brody: All Reggie’s managed to do is delay the flood, Jacko! The Storm rages on!
Razor, now the legal man, snarls as he raises off the mat, wipes his mouth.
…Reggie grins wide… As he starts to raise his hands toward his thr-
Razor’s teeth grit, eyes burning as he rushes Estrada!
JC: Estrada delivering his signature taunt!
BG: And Razor’s signature temper is flaring!
Blade charges in for a decapitating…
LARIAT!
…DODGED!
BG: Estrada’s moving like a humming bird out here!
JC: And stinging like a pistol shrimp!
Estrada ducks under with a grin curling at the edge of his lips. He slips behind Blade and nails a leaping…
REG!
K!
…
NO!
Somehow, Razor finds it in himself to shove Reggie by the shoulder into the opposite corner!
JC: Wow! For a second there, I thought Reggie just hit his REG-KO!
BG: If Blade didn’t have the senses to turn away… He might have!
…From the corner, Reggie smirks and pinches his fingers together…
JC: Reggie telling Razor just how close he came to getting his lights knocked out!
…Razor snorts furiously. He goes t-
SLAP! Latoya tags herself in with a slap to Razor’s shoulder and a snarl on her lips. Her face is twisted in fury, and she roars as she storms the ring.
JC: Latoya, sensing some rage brewing in her partner, and she decides to enter the match and let him cool down!
BG: Or she just got angry herself and wants to tear Estrada limb from limb!
Reggie grits his teeth, eyes darting, heart hammering. He sees Hixx coming in with a…
BIG BOOT!
…Nope!
Estrada drops to a low crouch, his eyes wide with last-second instinct. He latches his arms around Hixx’s waist!
Razor’s caught off-guard! He won’t make it in time!
THR-NO!
Hixx plants her boots, lips curling into a snarl, and uses her overwhelming strength to roll through!
BG: Estrada nearly stole that one!
Hixx’s back arches and she deadlifts Reggie in one smooth motion—
JC: Oh my GOD! The sheer strength of Latoya Hixx!
Reggie looks absolutely helpless as Hixx muscles a full-grown man off his feet!
She tightens her grip aaaaaaaaaand…
BLAM!! Monstrous RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX!
Reggie does a full backwards-flip through the air. His limbs flail mid-flight before he thuds to the mat, tumbling underneath the bottom rope and collapsing to the floor outside!
JC: Jee HOSEPHAT! That German Suplex struck like lightning! Someone ask Reggie if he knows where he is!
BG: Not a fair question, Latoya launched him so far, he might reasonably think he crossed state lines!
On the outside, Reggie Estrada lies sprawled across the turf, his chest heaving and eyes half-lidded in pain.
The official goes to start a ten-count… But Latoya goes to dip through the middle ropes to continue the attack!
JC: Looks like Latoya doesn’t want to win this one by count-out! She’s itching to unleash more physical punishment on Reggie!
Once again, the official goes to block Latoya and keep her inside the ring… But Razor drops off the apron to attack Reggie!
BG: There’s two of the Storm and one official!
JC: And it appears Razor still hasn’t gotten over Reggie nearly hitting the REG-KO! He’s STEAMING mad!
With a roar of frustration, Razor stomps toward Reggie, fists clenched!
Blade yanks Reggie up by the waistband and neck… Reggie’s body slackens, his face contorting in a grimace of helpless pain.
Razor’s face bears a cruel grin now as he…
WHIPS Estrada like a sack of bricks…
Into the Ringside barricade!
Estrada’s spins crumples against the steel! He nearly goes up and over into the crowd… Before flipping backwards onto his face onto the turf!
A guttural groan escapes him, one arm twitching instinctively toward the ropes but finding only air.
JC: “Ooooouch! Estrada’s spine just bounced off the barricade!
BG: I felt that one in my tailbone! Razor’s sendin’ messages now! LOUD and CLEAR!
Back in the ring, where the official is barking at Razor to return to the apron… Latoya Hixx watches, eyes wild and lips curled into a sneer. She cups her hands around her mouth and shouts down at Razor, barking at Razor to bring the meat back to the slaughterhouse…
Razor snaps a nod, grabbing Reggie’s arm and dragging the limp body toward the apron. His face is grim, the scowl never leaving as he rolls Estrada back under the bottom rope. Razor follows close behind, his mouth muttering something under his breath into Reggie’s ear.
JC: Razor adding insult to injury as he goes to feed Reggie to the lion that is Latoya Hixx!
Reggie coughs once, as the Storm surrounds him… his eyes barely open as he stares up at the lights.
Hixx and Blade exchange a glance—mutual understanding. They hoist Reggie up together, Hixx grasping him around the waist…
Before heaving him onto her shoulders into powerbomb position!
Razor clutching Estrada’s shoulder, ready to heave him downwards with all he’s got
JC: Oh my God! American Storm is looking for a tandem powerbomb!
BG: With this much strength behind it, they might throw Reggie clear through the mat and STRAIGHT TO HELL!
Latoya growls through her teeth as she heaves—
TANDEM POWERBOMB!
…
……
NO!
Just as Hixx begins to lift, Reggie’s face twists with defiance. His legs clasp around Hixx’s neck…
AND his arm secures Razor’s skull!
—his legs whipping around Hixx’s neck in a HURRICANRANA as his right arm hooks Razor’s head and drives him down into the mat with a DDT!
JC: ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? HURRICANRANA–DDT COMBO! FROM OUTTA NOWHERE!
BG: WHAT?! HOW?! WHAT EVEN WAS THAT?!
JC: That might have been the Counter of the Year!
The crowd roars as Razor bounces off the canvas, clutching his skull, while Latoya rolls to her knees, blinking in stunned confusion!
Reggie, panting and bloodied, clutches his ribs as he pushes up from the mat with a low growl of effort. His eyes laser in on Latoya, who is dazed and staggering. He grabs her by the head, latching in a guillotine hold, the crowd already screaming in anticipation.
JC: This could be it!
Reggie’s face is pure focus now. He clasps Latoya’s arms, preparing for the rotation—
AZTECA SUNRISE (Killswitch)!
…
NO!
Razor recovers just enough to slam both fists into Reggie’s spine with a desperate axehandle! Estrada yelps and drops Latoya immediately, stumbling to one knee, pain etched across his face.
JC: Reggie took a little too long setting up that Azteca Sunrise… And now the Storm is having a chance to brew anew!
Razor’s jaw is tight with anger, his teeth gritted as he grabs Reggie from behind, hooking the arms for the Blade Rose.
From the mat, Latoya roars! Her eyes narrow. Her feet stamp.
JC: What’s going on here, Brody!
BG: I think Razor’s going for his Blade Rose… But Latoya thinks Razor is holding Estrada for her!
Hixx charges—screaming—aiming for Reggie’s skull…
BICYCLE KICK!
…
BUT REGGIE DUCKS!
Latoya’s boot CRACKS across Razor’s face, his head snapping back violently as spit flies. His body flops backward, falling through the ropes and tumbling to the floor outside!
BG: SHE KNOCKED HER OWN PARTNER BACK TO CINCINNATI!”
JC: “HE’S OUT! RAZOR’S OUT!
Latoya gasps, her face frozen in disbelief. Her mouth opens like she’s about to apologize—but she doesn’t get the chance. She spins around—
—and Reggie explodes upward from the mat, eyes wild, teeth bared—
REG!
K!
O!
Latoya’s body bounces off the mat, arms flopping outward like a felled statue.
JC: REG-KO!!! REG-KO!!!
Reggie collapses into the cover, hooking the leg, staring wide-eyed at the ref—
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
Bell Rings.
WINNER: REGGIE ESTRADA
JC: HE DID IT! REGGIE ESTRADA PULLED OFF THE UPSET OF THE YEAR!
Reggie rolls off of Latoya, half-laughing, half-gasping for air. He doesn’t even make it to his feet—just raises one arm while lying on his back, a delirious smile stretching across his face. Outside the ring, Razor furiously snaps to, sliding under the bottom rope…
But Reggie’s already high-tailin’ it back up the ramp…
Razor stops at the ropes, barking and spitting insults at Reggie who makes it to the top of the ramp…
Turns around…
And wraps his hands around his throat once more!
THE CROWD GOES NUTS!
JC: Reggie can’t help himself but prod the bear once more! Another post-victory choking gesture for Reggie Estrada!
BG: You call that a victory!?! That was a fluke! That was theft! Call the Lexington PD!
JC: Call it what you will, Brody! But I call it another classic clutch performance from Reggie Estrada!
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. He climbs onto the apron, outstretches 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.
TODD: XXXVI has his work cut out for him, this evening, as though he wasn't being thrown to the wolves so early in his career!
STARS: Wolves? Try being thrown to the jackals.
Oswald stands amidst an indie metal band, watching the ring,
looking at the band. Soon a choir is heard as the band begins to play
his theme song. He walks towards the lead guitarist, clapping him gently
on the back so as to not mess up her playing. Oswald, walks down the
ramp, the bottom of his white cloak dragging along the ground. Once at
the ring, he'd leap onto the apron before launching himself to show how
strong and agile he was to lift such mass with such ease right over the
top rope and de-cloaked himself, placing it in his corner before
stretching out his arms in a lower case t and roaring out to the crowd
before going and sitting on top of his cloak, awaiting the bell as he
mentally plans out the match, as well as how to try and beat his
opponent.
STARS: Mr. Oz has made no allusions to what his plans are tonight, and that's to give an easy win to the Bastards.
TODD: He's loyal to his friends, you gotta give him that, but disrespecting the honor of the ring and the Anarchy Tag Team Championships is low.
The entirely epic XTron video of TNGB takes over the arena as the lights dim. A spotlight highlights the ramp, and Thunder Knuckles walks out onto the entrance ramp, hyped and ready to fight, pointing out into the crowd. Behind him, Bobby Bourbon deliberately walks out and stops, also pointing out into the crowd. Both men glance at each other and return their attention to the ring, delivering a no-look fistbump, then in unison point into the ring. The crowd sings along with the song.
*ASSHOLE, DIRTBAG, NO GOOD BASTARDS!*stomp stomp*
TK slides into the ring and gets up onto a knee, beckoning the crowd as Bobby climbs the steps and enters the ring behind him. TK stands and appeals to the crowd as Bobby raises his arms at 45-degree angles.
TODD: Bobby Bourbon and Thunder Knuckles, the fans absolutely love to hate them!
STARS: These fans know these guys are brutal, they're dirty, but they're effective!
TK stands on the apron, smug smile on his face as he waves at XXXVI, as Bobby stands in his corner, somehow looming from across the ring, arms folded across his massive chest.
TODD: Well, I don’t know what we expected here, Jimmy.
STARS: Todd, we expected Oz to honor a chance at dethroning our Anarchy Tag Team champions.
TODD: Mr. Oz has gone on record that he was going to just toss the match as an easy win for Them No Good…
STARS: Bastards. You know I used to think it was a catchy name but they really are, Todd, as cunning and devious, for better or worse, as they come.
Ozzy stands on the apron, expressionless. XXXVI simply crouches in his corner, looking across at the behemoth in front of him. The referee calls for the bell.
Oz immediately tags himself in. XXXVI looks confused but steps out to the apron. Oz immediately lays down, and Bobby casually walks up and puts a hand on Oz's chest!
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
STARS: Oh come on!
TODD: Thie is a travesty, I am sorry fans, you deserve better than this.
The referee goes to count.
1…
XXXVI springboards and hits a hurricanrana on Bourbon, planting him! The crowd goes wild as the referee confronts XXXVI.
STARS: This is following regulations despite common sense, Todd, that referee aught to know better!
TODD: That’s “Fair” Frank Fairlane, all of 92 years young, Jimmy, the only thing he remembers is the XWF rule book.
XXXVI is backed into his corner as Bobby is helped to his feet by Oz.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
Bobby glares at XXXVI and tags in Thunder Knuckles.
Oz stands and shrugs, as though he doesn't know what to do now that his attempt to throw the match has failed.
TK pokes Oz in the chest, and Oz overdramatically keels over.
TK sinches in the Helsinki Leg Lock!
TODD: Well, the Bastards have utilized this hold in the past, Jimmy, where they bearhug an opponent's ankles while grapevining their thighs, rendering them completely immovable.
STARS; What the shit, Todd, that doesn't look like it hurts, it just looks really inconvenient and stops the action completely.
TODD: Bobby and TK say it exhausts their opponents so much it's practically the ultimate set-up maneuver.
Oz smirks, reaching a hand out.
STARS: Oh, he's going to tap out now? God damn it, Todd, TNGB are just screwing a young up-and-comer's career tonight.
TODD: They’re the best they are at what they do, Jimmy, and what they do is the worst.
Oz brings his hand down to tap out.
XXXVI drops to the seat of his pants, holding the tag rope and jutting his leg out under the bottom rope!
Oz inadvertently tags XXXVI in!
TK holds the Helsinki Leg Lock on Oz!
The 92 year old referee begins his mandatory five count for TK to relinquish the hold!
1…
2…
3…
4…
XXXVI in with a Swanton Bomb onto TK, breaking the hold!
The crowd goes bananas as TK scrambles to his corner, Oz rolls out of the ring, slapping the apron, Bobby hollers at the referee for no seeming reason, and XXXVI standing ready for a fight!
TODD: XXXVI is fired up, Jimmy, he doesn't like the dog-and-pony show going on here!
STARS: Thank the maker! Someone has some integrity here!
Oz reaches under the ring as Bobby walks into it without a tag.
Oz pulls a steel chair out from under the ring and slides it under the bottom rope.
Bobby grabs the referee by the shirt and jostles him!
“Fair” Fairlane, completely by the book, calls for the bell!
WINNER BY DISQUALIFICATION
XXXVI AND MR. OZ
BUT STILL ANARCHY TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS
THEM NO GOOD BASTARDS!
Shortly after the bell tolls, Bobby casts the nonagenarian aside.
TK steps into the ring with the chair.
XXXVI rushes at Bobby!
Huge Leaping Forearm to Bourbon, sending him to the corner!
TK swings the chair at XXXVI!
XXXVI dodges the shot at the last second, and counters with a heel kick to TK's gut, doubling him over!
XXXVI pivots, and rushes at Bourbon, hitting the second rope with a bound and nailing Bobby with a rising crescent heel kick!
TODD: OH MY GOD!
STARS: These fans are going wild as XXXVI is singlehandedly stepping up against TNGB here!
XXXVI points toward TK, who is still clutching their belly.
XXXVI rushes TK, and springboards off of his back!!
*THIR!*
The XWF crowd roars as XXXVI lands atop the turnbuckle!
Bobby has stepped out of the corner, still dazed.
*TEE!*
XXXVI soars through the air, backflipping as he does, towards Bourbon!
*SIX!*
The crowd is firmly behind XXXVI as he connects with the Final Countdown on the standing Bourbon!
NO!
TODD: OH NO!
STARS: ALL THE FIGHT THAT XXXVI HAD IN HIM, AND IT CAN'T HAPPEN LIKE THIS!
Bobby, having caught XXXVI, plants him with a mighty Bobbybomb squarely in the middle of the ring.
Bobby glares at XXXVI as though none of what happened just now should have.
TK picks the chair back up and stomps on XXXVI as Bobby shouts at him on the mat.
TK signals to Bobby to get XXXVI back up.
TK opens the chair, and closes it around XXXVI's head!
TODD: THEY’RE GOING TO END HIS CAREER!
STARS: THEM NO GOOD BASTARDS ARE GOING TO PILMANIZE XXXVI'S NECK!
TK with a cruel shot to XXXVI's kidneys, sending him stumbling towards Bobby!
Bobby pops XXXVI up, ready to deliver another Bobbybomb!
NO!
TODD: WHO’S THAT!
STARS: SOMEONE HAS HOPPED THE BARRIER!
The crowd goes wild as the figure rushes the ring, chop blocking Bobby, sending him to the mat with XXXVI collapsing on top of him!
It's Scoops McGee!
The fans are on the edge of their seat as Scoops takes the chair from XXXVI's cranium, and holds it ready to strike TK!
TK rolls out of the ring, and as he does, Bobby pushes XXXVI away from him, rolling out as well!
TODD: Scoops McGee has leveled the playing field, Jimmy!
STARS: And without the advantage, TNGB seem to be retreating.
TK helps Bobby back up the ramp as Bourbon points in the ring, jawing at XXXVI and Scoops!
Scoops helps XXXVI up to his feet, and raises his arm in the air in victory!
JC: Folks, this next one could be the meanest, most violent Television championship match in all of XWF history!
BG: Those with weak constitutions may wish to avert their eyes! Those who love extreme wrestling, don’t even BLINK for the next fifteen minutes!
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: After a two-month absence following Rebellion and a disqualification loss against Solomon and Crimson Kline in which she looked absolutely dominant, Sarah Wolf is back in the XWF and she is on a mission!
BG: You ain’ kiddin’, Jackie! We heard from Sarah this week and she said she thought about going other places… But everyone she wanted to beat the piss out of was already here!
JC: And she made it clear that near the top of that list is Lucy Wylde!
BG: Both these competitors got real personal with each other! Thaddeus Duke, Lucy’s fiance (congratulations) came up a LOT!
JC: If there was any chance of this being a polite contest between two game competitors, I think both these two killed that chance on their respective mics! This one is gonna get ugly and QUICK!
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.
…
The arena goes black. The opening chords of "Undead" by Hollywood Undead blare over the Arena PA system. One by one, spotlights around the arena begin fading in and out, alternating between a bright white and deep purple tones. As the bass line kicks into its highly recognized bone jarring chorus the spotlights sync their flashing with the rhythm. Suddenly the spotlights all turn at once, illuminating the stage in a brilliant flash and a radiating glow. Lucy Wylde steps out from behind the curtain onto center stage just as the crowd begins to cheer and sing along with the song...
UNDEAD!!!!!
UNDEAD!!!!!
UNDEAD!!!!!
UNDEAD!!!!!
As the verse begins, Lucy begins walking towards the ring, a big smile on her face as she moves from side to side along the aisle - slapping the hands of the fans as she goes.
JC: After a period of ‘hot potato’ Television champions, Lucy Wylde is starting to string together very impressive defenses!
BG: No kidding, Jackie! She beat the previously on-a-hot-streak “Cavortin’” Jake Borden! She took down “Rookie of the Year” Solomon Kline! She fended off Larry Tact AND Scoops McGee in a triple-threat defense!
JC: But this match may prove to be her stiffest challenge yet as Television champion! Sarah Wolf has been an absolute monster in the XWF!
BG: This match could steal the whole show!
Lucy gets to ringside and runs up the ring steps, climbing into the ring and ascending the far turnbuckle, raising her arms into the air. She pulls a pair of fingerless leather gloves from her back pocket and puts them on, one by one. Her music begins to fade into the background of the cheers of the fans. Once both gloves are tight, she clenches both fists and jumps down from the turnbuckle, awaiting the opening bell.
The bell rings, echoing through the open air of Kroger Field.
15:00
14:59
14:58
Thousands of Kentucky fans are on their feet as the XWF Television Champion, Lucy Wylde, circles the ring with her signature restless energy. Across from her, Sarah Wolf stands almost statuesque — only her fingers twitch with anticipation.
JC: These two women, even with that aggression on the mic, both know better than to leap in head-first! They each know how good their opponent is and they’re approaching this with tactical precision!
BG: I appreciate that, Jack, I do! But they gotta move quick! There’s only fifteen minutes on the clock! Less now!
14:41
14:40
14:39
The competitors lock up, and immediately Lucy transitions behind Sarah into a waistlock — but Sarah throws a backward elbow blindly and catches Lucy in the jaw. Lucy stumbles, but answers with a lightning-fast leg sweep that sends Wolf to a knee. A short basement dropkick follows, thudding into Sarah’s brace-covered spine.
JC: Lucy making her strategy clear from the early-going: keep Wolf moving, never let her get into her groove!
BG: Lucy better be careful playin’ patty-cake with a snake. Eventually, the snake’s gonna bite.
Sarah snarls from the mat and tries to rise, but Lucy is already there with a snapmare into a basement superkick to the shoulder blades. The crowd pops as Lucy rushes the ropes, springboards —
—only for Sarah to duck under and throw her body into Lucy’s legs, sweeping her off her feet with a dirty slide tackle!
[white]JC: What a counter by Wolf! Taking Lucy’s offensive ballet and disarming it with a physical pinpoint attack!
13:50
13:49
13:48
Lucy hits the mat hard, and Sarah is on her like a curse. A flurry of kicks — not measured strikes, but bludgeoning ones — hammer Lucy's ribs and arms as she rolls, trying to minimize her body’s vulnerable surface area!
Getting fed up with Lucy’s turtle-esque defensive posture, Sarah grabs Wylde by the wrist…
And bites her forearm!
Eliciting a mix of gasps and cheers from the Kentucky crowd!
JC: Come on! Referee needs to step in! That was a full-on bite!
BG: Maybe Sarah’s hungry! You ever think of that, J.C.? You want the official to chide her for being hungry, Jack-Jack?
JC: When she BITES her opponent? YES!!!
The ref shouts at Sarah, who throws her hands up innocently… The official indicates to the timekeeper to mark a warning on Sarah…
But, while the ref’s gaze is turned, Wolf stomps Lucy’s fingers!
JC: Sarah Wolf has no moral compass! No qualms about breaking her opponent’s body if it puts her a micrometer closer to victory!
Wolf yanks Lucy up by the hair and tosses her head-first into the middle buckle!
12:59
12:58
12:57
Lucy pulls herself up using the ropes, now that it’s clear Sarah has no intention letting her get up on her own…
Sure enough, in the split-second Lucy reflexively rose to her shaky feet, Sarah’s already charging toward the corner!
Wolf pounces!
…But Lucy rolls underneath, dodging!
Wolf blocks the turnbuckle from her face with an elbow rebounding off…
But in the meantime, Lucy slips behind her — grabbing a wrist and locking in a tight hammerlock, pushing Sarah’s arm up behind her back with relentless pressure!
JC: A masterful counter by Lucy Wylde! Here comes that precision we talked about! Lucy Wylde wrenching back on that arm like it owes her rent!
BG: It’s a winning strategy, Jacko! Slow, deliberate submission holds that drain the clock. Lucy ain’t gotta win to retain, she’s just gotta keep Wolf at bay for fifteen minutes! And right now,
Wylde’s got that hold in DEEP…
The crowd roars in confusion and then horror as Sarah…
SLAMS HER FIST AGAINST…
HER OWN ARM!
BG: What the hell…?
POP! Wolf dislocates her own shoulder, letting the trapped arm fall limp and slide free from Lucy’s grip!
JC: What the FUCK!?! Oh God, I’m gonna be sick…
Before Lucy can react —
—Sarah chokeslams Lucy to the mat with her other arm, slamming her with disturbing, chaotic strength!
12:04
12:03
12:02
Lucy lies motionless, cradling her skull, her legs twitching slightly. Sarah drops to one knee beside her, eyes fluttering for a moment as she reaches for her dangling shoulder… and calmly, almost lovingly, pops it back into place. Her mouth curls into a grin, savoring the sharp sting of her own agony.
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT
JC: My God... did I see what I just saw? Did Wolf just… WILLINGLY dislocate her own arm to chokeslam Lucy?
BG: That’s the difference right there! Lucy Wylde wants to win! Sarah Wolf wants you to suffer while she wins!
Sarah hovers over Lucy, a shadow with malice in her eyes…
11:19
11:18
11:17
Sarah drops to the mat and wraps her legs around Lucy’s midsection in a tight body scissors, wrenching her back in a spinal lock that folds the champion like a suitcase. Lucy’s mouth opens in a pained scream, her boots kicking the mat as the brace against Sarah’s back presses uncomfortably into her abdomen.
JC: This is what Sarah Wolf lives for — she’s not just trying to beat Lucy, she’s trying to break her!
BRODY: It’s like watching Picasso paint, Castillo. But, like if instead of painting with paint, he used pure PAIN!
Lucy claws her way toward the ropes — not with power, but with urgency — and manages to drag both women close enough that she can hook her boot around the bottom rope.
JC: Incredible wherewithal AND tenacity by the champion, grabbing the rope to force the hold to break!
BG: She ain’t forced NOTHING, Jackie! Wolf’s still got that spine lock on TIGHT!
The referee counts. 1… 2… 3…
Sarah finally releases at four-and-three-quarters, then slaps the back of Lucy’s head before standing.
10:22
10:21
10:20
Sarah stalks a few steps, then slowly lowers herself beside Lucy again. This time she traps one arm under her leg, the other twisted behind Lucy’s neck — contorting her into a modified Octopus hold while lying on the mat, using the leverage of her own weight to torque Lucy’s spine.
JC: Wolf targeting Wylde’s core, trying to snap Lucy in half!
BG: Yeah, and you can see how much she’s enjoying it. Look at her face, she’s practically purring.
Sarah giggles — a dry, joyless sound — and tightens the hold further. Lucy’s eyes flutter, her body going slack… until Sarah SLAPS her again, keeping her conscious.
But Sarah glances up at the massive countdown clock on the stadium’s display screen.
9:32
9:31
9:30
Wolf’s sadistic smile falters for the first time…
JC: If Sarah could, she might torture Lucy forever — but that clock just reminded her that the title doesn’t change hands on sadism alone. She’s running against the clock to finish this match!
Sarah releases the hold and yanks Lucy up, wraps her into a standing guillotine, leaning back and compressing the neck, bracing her own body to squeeze tighter and tighter.
BG: Wolf looking for the choke-out victory here…
8:57
8:56
8:55
The ref inches closer to check Lucy’s arm…
He lifts it…
But Lucy comes alive! With one last burst of strength, she launches a sudden kick up from her tucked position — smashing her boot into Sarah’s face!
OVERHEAD AXE KICK
BG: WHOA—where the Hell’d that one come from?!?
JC: Wylde with a desperation strike! That was pure instinct!
Sarah stumbles back, blinking as she staggers toward the ropes, rattled. Lucy struggles up to one knee, eyes half-closed, lips bloody, but she surges forward…
She runs, rebounding off the ropes…
Leaping forward through the air…
HURRICANRANA! Wylde somersaults in mid-air!
PLANTING Sarah’s face into the canvas!
8:07
8:06
8:05
BG: Oh my GOD! That impact sounded DISGUSTING!
The crowd erupts as Sarah sprawls on the mat, stunned.
JC: Wylde might be looking to call it an early night here! Can she claim the victory right now!
Lucy collapses across her for a desperate pin!
The official drops to count!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NO!
Sarah kicks out at two and a half, rolling onto her stomach, one hand clutching her jaw.
JC: Close call That’s how dangerous Lucy Wylde is! Sarah Wolf would have had any other opponent dead-to-rights in that guillotine choke, but somehow Wylde turned it into a near-match-winning combination!
BG: NEAR is the keyword there, Jackaroo. Wolf’s still movin’… and Wylde better hope that wasn’t all she had left!
Lucy Wylde rises, sweat-drenched and unsteady, but her fire is unmistakable. She stares down at the stirring form of Sarah Wolf and starts to beckon, taunting her opponent with a hand wave that brings the crowd to its feet.
JC: That’s the champion’s defiance right there! Lucy wants Wolf to get up! She’s ready to end this!
BG: She better be sure, ‘cause that’s a rabid WOLF she’s callin’ for!
Sarah obliges, slowly getting to her feet, swaying a bit. Lucy charges in — leaps — and grabs her for the Wylde Liberation!
JC: She’s going for the Wylde Liberation! If she hits it…
Lucy LEAPS!
…
But mid-air, Sarah reaches up, fingers clawing through Lucy’s hair — and with a vicious snarl, bites down on the crown of Lucy’s skull as she’s being driven down!
JC: OH WHAT THE FUCK!
Lucy screams, breaking the move entirely as she collapses to one knee, swiping blindly at Sarah’s face in agony. Sarah lands on all fours, blood at the corner of her lips, a smile twitching there.
JC: That was barbaric! She bit her scalp! That’s—come on!
BG: Do you think pleases and thank yous win you championship gold, Jacko? Sarah Wolf made it clear! She wants BELTS! By ANY MEANS NECESSARY!
The referee steps in, shouting warnings, clearly rattled by what just happened. Sarah raises her hands mockingly like she’s being arrested…
6:21
6:20
6:19
As the official taps the XWF logo on his shirt, trying to remind a scoffing Sarah Wolf who calls the shots here..
Lucy, fueled by rage and pain, springs to her feet and throws out…
THE FURY BRAND! (Corkscrew Pele Kick!)
…Sarah sees it coming…
And pulls the official into the path of the kick!
Lucy’s boots CRACK the official square in the face, sending him crumpling like a sack of bricks! The stadium gasps in unison.
BG: Ohhhh he caught all of that! Poor guy’s out like last year’s milk!
JC: Sarah Wolf using the official like a shield to block Wylde’s devastating kick!
Lucy drops to her knees beside the official, checking on him, holding his shoulder — panic etched across her face.
…Sarah doesn’t hesitate.
She spins Lucy around… Boot to the stomach!
She scoops Lucy into the air… Her feet dangle in the air…
PILEDRIVER!
JC: …Ffffffffuck.
The crowd oohs uncomfortably as Lucy’s head spikes against the canvas like a javelin.
4:44
4:43
4:42
Wolf floats over into the cover, hooking both legs and staring directly into the camera…
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
…
Counts the crowd!
But, there’s no bell. No movement from the referee. The arena buzzes with tension.
JC: Lucy Wylde just got knocked out cold with that piledriver — but there’s no referee to count it!
BG: That title should be hers right now. That’s a count! That’s a pin! Where’s the justice for Sarah Wolf, huh?
JC: Turnabout’s fair play! Sarah Wolf is the reason that official got knocked unconscious, Brody!
Sarah sits up slowly, looking around at the crowd, lips curled, and then back down at Lucy…
4:01
3:59
3:58
Sarah Wolf looks down at the referee — still unmoving — and snarls, baring her teeth like a feral creature denied her kill.
…
But just as quickly as the fury comes, it melts. Her lip twitches. Her eyes gleam.
A twisted smile slithers across Sarah’s face.
JC: …Ooooooh, I don’t like that gleam in Wolf’s eye at all…
She stands, saunters toward the ropes, and rolls under the bottom strand to the outside. The crowd watches, almost frozen. And then —
—Sarah starts tearing up the ringside padding with both hands, yanking the mats back to expose the unforgiving gray concrete beneath.
JC:
No. NO. This isn’t wrestling anymore — this is malice! That’s concrete!
BRODY:
Sarah Wolf doesn’t want to beat Lucy… She wants to END Lucy!
The fans shout warnings, but it’s too late. Sarah reaches under the ropes, grabs Lucy by the leg, and drags her out of the ring like a horror movie demon pulling its victim into the underworld.
2:49
2:48
2:47
Lucy is limp, barely resisting. Sarah hoists her up by the waist, locking her into position — setting up for another piledriver. This one… straight to the concrete.
JACUINDE: Don’t do this! That could end Lucy Wylde’s career!
BG: I think if she heard you say that, Jackie? It would double her resolve to do what she’s doing…
Wolf lets out a guttural, almost euphoric exhale as she balances Lucy’s body, preparing to drop—
—but Lucy’s legs kick once—then twice—then suddenly drop back down to the mat!
2:02
2:01
2:00
Lucy twists, plants her feet, shifts her hips and lifts Sarah into the air—
—BACK BODY DROP ONTO THE CONCRETE!
The entire stadium collectively winces as Sarah Wolf’s spine SLAMS against the bare floor.
JC: GOOD GOD! Wolf just got launched onto the concrete!
BG: Her spine… I think her soul left her body, J.C.!
Sarah lands hard, arching her back and curling into a fetal position. She clutches at her lower spine, face twisted into a grotesque mix of agony… and ecstasy.
She’s smiling, even as she screams.
1:37
1:36
1:35
Lucy collapses to her knees, exhausted, beside the barely-moving Sarah. Both women are down, the ref is down, and the concrete claims its toll.
BG: A little over ninety seconds to go! We’re in crunchtime!
JC: Lucy just dug yet another counter to survive Wolf’s onslaught! Can she hold on!?!
Lucy rolls back under the bottom rope… Crawling up to her knees…
The official exhaustedly pulls himself up using the corner turnbuckle, looking very woozy…
1:21
1:20
1:19
Sarah Wolf, cradling her aching back, shoves herself off the mat… Digging her fingernails into her own face… Leaving blood!
JC: Oh my GOD, what the hell is wrong with Sarah Wolf?!?
BG: Think she’s trying to distract the brain from the pain receptors in her spine by sending pain signals to her face!
Wolf sneers furiously and rolls under the bottom rope!
As Lucy re-reaches a vertical base, Wolf dives toward Lucy in a pounce!
…
But Lucy forward rolls out of the way and into the corner!
0:51
0:50
0:49
Wolf spins around, diving for the cornered Wylde, looking to tear her to shreds…
But Lucy pulls herself up by the top rope… And plants a knee straight into Wolf’s diving face!
Wolf sprawls backwards, landing dead center of the ring!
0:38
0:37
0:36
BG: This is it! Wylde’s almost survived!
JC: But Lucy looks like she’s going for the win here!
Indeed, Lucy looks like she’s pulling herself up to the top turnbuckle!
JC: Oh my God! Are we about to see Lucy’s double moonsault?
BG: She only pulls it out when she needs to… And she might’ve just decided it’s necessary to put down Wolf!
Lucy starts to turn…
But Wolf is already scrambling up to her feet…
JC: What the HELL is it gonna take to put down Sarah Wolf?
The official, still a little woozy, approaches Sarah to ask if she can continue…
Lucy improvises! She bends her knees, ready for a cross-bo-
WHAM!
…Wolf boots the official in the chest into the ropes!
Lucy gets crotched on the top and falls to the mat!
JC: No! Another dirty play by Sarah Wolf!
0:14
0:13
0:02
Wolf is upon Wylde in a predatorial sprint!
DEATH!
COMES!
RIPPING!
0:08
0:07
0:06
JC: No! Not like this! Please!
Wolf hooks the leg!
…The official hesitates…
BG: What the Hell is the ref doing… COUNT!!!
…
The official looks conflicted…
But he counts!
1!
2!
…THE BUZZER SOUNDS!
…
A SPLIT SECOND AFTER THREE!
WINNER AND NEW XWF TELEVISION CHAMPION: SARAH “DOLLFACE” WOLF
JC: Disgusting! Sarah Wolf defied every rule of basic decency when it comes to the sport of wrestling!
BG: And she WON, Jacko! Lucy said she wanted Wolf to give a fuck this match? Wolf showed exactly what it looks like when she gives a fuck! Pure ANIMALISTIC rage! With cut-throat precision! Like if a jaguar was also a surgeon! Lucy Wylde wrestled a hell of a match! But who the HELL is gonna stop Sarah Wolf, Television champion!?!
JC: Folks, this next match is for the Tag Team Titles and it’s set to be absolutely insane!
BG: Fo’ REAL, Jack! I don’t think anyone would have thought that SEB and King could lose… Even though they mixed like battery acid and creme brulee! But, their bickering and dissension made them fall prey to the Black Rainbow!
JC: Can’t deny that, Brody! Black Rainbow proved to be a unit! Cambric and Glazkov took on two former Universal champions and found a way to come out on top!
BG: They proved a better team than SEB and King last Warfare for certain, Jacko! But, any given Sunday, baby! Can Black Rainbow prove just how doomed to fail SEB and King are? Or can they *actually* cooperate and give BR a run for their money?
“Martin had a dream…”
The beat drops like a hammer as the crowd goes wild. The stans in the stands bop up and down to the iconic Sweatpants beat while rapping along to Kendrick’s Backseat Freestyle verse. The mashup highlights both how similar and dysfunctional this pairing is.
White-hot strobes flash, timed perfectly to every thump of the bass. There’s no warm up, The Exiles are approaching and everyone knows it.
“All my life, I want money and power
Respect my mind or die from lead shower”
The screen glitches to life, a black background with a grey logo and some words:
“The Exiles
Not a choice, a sentence.”
Two spotlights snap on from opposite ends of the stage, on the left: Sebastian Everett-Bryce, dressed in a long black coat. His chin tilts upwards slightly, a wry smile pastered on it - hiding his disdain for this situation. He adjusts the arms on his coat mid-stride, as he makes his way down to the ring.
On the right: Isaiah King, no cape or theatrics, simply a weathethered grey leather jacket over some wrestling tights and boxing boots. He glances at the name on the screen and shows visible disgust.
“Gadamn I feel amazin’”
BG: Two of the greatest Universal champions of the modern era! Two of the best talents the XWF has to offer!
JC: And two men that ONE team beat last Warfare!
BG: Can’t deny that, Jack! SEB and King do not like each other! They each went out to the ring and played Hero Ball… and while they had their bursts of individual momentum, they eventually found themselves overwhelmed by a cooperative unit in Emilia Glazkov and Doctor Holly Cambric!
JC: Fascinatingly though, Brody! While they refused to speak to each other, they both requested another shot at Black Rainbow separately! They’d both rather have the chance to even the score than just go there separate ways!
BG: It’s *something*, Jacko! But is it enough for these two to get on the same page AND stay there?
They converge halfway down the way but don’t acknowledge each other, not a glance or a nod.
The crowd’s noise is deafening - divided and rowdy. Some bounce to the beat, others boo like they’re watching two egos that deserve to eat each other alive.
As the two get to the ring, Isaiah slides through the bottom ropes while SEB makes his way to the stairs for a more graceful entry. They both make their way to the centre of the ring, faces cracking at the discomfort before shifting to accommodate the other.
A slow pulse of white light resembling a hospital heart monitor throbs with the opening beat of “Born of Darkness.” The tron flickers with sterile images: X-rays, surgical diagrams, and emergency room chaos. A soft, echoing sound of muffled breathing, like someone lying awake in a medical facility, seeps through the arena.
Then, as the vocals begin, Dr. Holly Cambric steps onto the stage, raising an XWF tag-team title… every inch of it covered in black!
JC: We saw their ceremony on Anarchy! The Black Rainbow claimed to… “sanctify” their belts… in some sort of… black substance!
BG: They claim they’ve INFECTED the tag-team titles in a coating that will NEVER wash away! The same way they talk about the XWF at large! It will never be the same now that Black Rainbow is here!
JC: I’m sure Warfare GM Peter Principle would begrudgingly agree with that sentiment, given what they did to him on Warfare! Black Rainbow is on the WARPATH right now, on an absolute reign of terror!
BG: No, goddamn I’m not, YOU are sounding like Jacko wants to light up a jack-o-lantern for these FREAKS! Did you not just see what they did to Peter Principle?!
She's wearing a fitted, high-collared coat resembling a stylized surgeon’s gown, black with blood-red lining. Her gloves are clean and white. Her face is expressionless, head tilted slightly like she’s observing the crowd as subjects, not people.
She doesn’t raise her arms. She doesn’t speak. She walks slowly, controlled, every step measured. The camera focuses on her eyes, which are found unblinking and analytical.
As she reaches the ring, she climbs the steps methodically and wipes her boots twice on the apron, sterile habits she refuses to break. She enters under the bottom rope deliberately and kneels briefly in the center of the ring.
Then she rises.
The final haunting note of the theme echoes as she removes her coat, folds it precisely, and hands it to a ringside official with surgical detachment. She paces the ropes once, then retreats to her corner.
The lights cut to black. Not dramatic—funereal. The crowd’s noise dies without being asked.
Then the static comes: soft at first, like whispers caught in candlelight, then growing louder, deeper—until it crackles into the opening pulse of “Bitches Brew” by †††.
A long, low beat drops. Thick. Diseased. Measured like a heartbeat that’s been slowed by something cruel.
The entrance screen flickers not with pyro—but with a sigil. A glowing ring of violet flame surrounding a single word: “ADVOCATE.”
Then she arrives.
JC: Speaking of Peter Principle, Brody! Peter Principle paired the Exiles together as two of the XWF’s finest talents… Specifically to take a title away from the Revoluionary Dolly Waters… What does it mean that Black Rainbow managed to beat The Exiles, as XWF’s chosen champions?
BG: It means EVERYTHING, Jacko! Glazkov and Cambric proved last Warfare they can take the best Principle can throw at them and ask for more! Cambric went over it in their promo… They dissected SEB and King! Black Rainbow calculated exactly what SEB and King’s shortcomings were… and exploited them again and again and again!
JC: I can’t deny what you’re saying, Brody! But SEB and King are two of the best competitors at picking themselves back up when they fall! We’ve seen both these men take losses… then come back stronger than ever! Can they even the score? Or will Black Rainbow once again overwhelm and submerge their opponents in darkness?
Emilia Glazkov steps into the spotlight, veiled in shadows and dressed like prophecy:
Her cloak billows behind her like torn cathedral drapery, sheer and trailing, carved down the middle to reveal black vinyl beneath.
…Resting around her waist like an abysmal, unholy artifact is the other XWF Tag Title… also coated completely in black.
She raises it like an offering to her chest… Before walking down the ramp.
Her shoulderplates catch the red light, reflecting it in shattered, molten splinters. They look too heavy for most, but she wears them like wings.
Her wide-brimmed hat floats above her like a halo of midnight—its ring of glowing spokes etched with runes that rotate with each step.
Her eyes? Smeared black. Her mouth? Still. Her presence? Sacrament.
She walks without rushing. Not with confidence—with inevitability. Every motion says: you are not watching me enter. You are watching me arrive.
She reaches the foot of the ramp.
Stops.
Raises both arms—not to the crowd, but to the ceiling, the lights, the unseen.
She tilts her head back, whispers something, and flicks her fingers as if casting it away.
Then she climbs the stairs.
Her boots thud—leather and steel echoing like a funeral drum. The camera closes in on her legs as the cloak parts: fishnet-tight skin, ritual ink glinting along her thigh.
On her left boot, stitched into the leather just above the knee: a crimson rune, pulsing faintly like a warning.
She enters the ring. No theatrics. No spinning. No posing. She moves to the second rope, front and center, and climbs with ease. Then she spreads her arms wide. Head lifted. Eyes closed. Mouth slightly open—like she’s listening for an answer only the dead can give.
The hat’s runes flare once—then burn out, their embers trailing off like stars bleeding into night.
Her cloak flutters down her back. Her chest is bare of armor, only pale skin and painted glyphs across her sternum, right beneath the embroidered word: ADVOCATE.
For a moment, she holds the ring in silence. Then drops from the ropes.
Her boots hit the canvas like judgment.
The cloak slips from her shoulders, caught by a gust no one else feels.
She is revealed beneath: black corset top, exposed stomach, mesh-paneled legs, gauntleted hands with black claws twitching like they miss the altar.
Seb and Glazkov take to the apron as Cambric and Isaiah begin the match.
Both circle each other, sizing up the competition.
JC: Both teams seem to be starting the match must like last Warfare, Brody.
BG: I see, Jackie, but there seems to be far less dissension now.
Cambric gazes at Isaiah, emotionlessly.
Isaiah shoots in and throws a right, but Cambric dodges.
Isaiah with a sharp left to the body, but Cambric deflects the blow.
Isaiah with a right hook, but Cambric ducks and throws a chop block!
Isaiah sidesteps, and connects with a vicious overhand left to the back of Cambric's head, sending her to the mat!
Isaiah with a quick cover!
1…
2…
Cambric gets a shoulder up!
Glazkov begins chanting something in the corner as Seb slaps the top turnbuckle in his.
King goes to bring Cambric to her feet!
Cambric hooks King's leg, and yanks, sending him to the mat.
Cambric tags out as Glazkov continues to mutter something to herself.
Glazkov with a quick soccer kick to Isaiah's ribs as he starts to get up.
Glazkov measures a stomp onto one of Isaiah's hands!
Glazkov goes down and sets in a reverse armbar!
JC: Emilia seems to be using a sound strategy, here Brody, if she can weaken the arms of King, he can't throw those devastating boxing combinations he's known for!
BG: Maybe, Jackie, or maybe she just likes watching opponents writhe in pain!
Isaiah tries to fight out of the hold as Seb actually offers encouragement from their corner.
Cambric watches coldly, as though she's noting what human pain looks like.
Isaiah reaches the bottom rope!
The referee begins his count for Glazkov to break the hold!
1…
2…
3…
4…
A half smirk forms on Glazkov's face as she releases the hold.
Isaiah rolls aside and looks towards his corner as Seb extends his arm to tag in.
Glazkov casually tags out as Cambric studies King.
Cambric measures a knee drop onto the arm that Glazkov held in the arm bar.
King dodges, and Cambric's knee smashes into the mat!
King to his feet, his back against the ropes, and he sets into his boxing stance!
Cambric is back up, and King with a jab.
Cambric blocks, and King immediately recoils from the sheer pain!
JC: King absolutely favoring that arm, he desperately needs to tag out!
BG: You’re right, Jackie, if he trusts Seb to take over the match is another matter!
King with another punch thrown, but Cambric grabs the wrist, setting up a wristlock!
King begins to struggle out of the wristlock.
Cambric hits For Medicinal Use Only!
King's iron jaw keeps him on his feet, but he stumbles into a neutral corner!
Glazkov has begun muttering something in her corner, and one of her books flies open.
JC: Woah!
BG: Is that even legal?
Cambric rushes King with a vicious forearm to his jaw!
King ducks, and swiftly makes it to his corner, tagging in Seb!
Glazkov continues her bizarre mutterings, her eyes rolled back into her skull, and another book flies open, green smoke pouring out of it!
JC: Brody, that's not normal literature!
BG: Jackie, it's probably all smoke and mirrors to distract the challengers!
Seb enters the ring, and Cambric swiftly makes her way towards him!
Cambric with a spinning back fist, but Seb ducks!
Seb grips Cambric around the waist and throws a German Suplex, complete with a bridging pin!
1…
2…
Glazkov continues her cantations, and a third and fourth book fly open, causing the whole ring to shake, breaking the pin!
JC: Brody, something really weird is going on here!
BG: I know, we're having Leap of Faith in Kentucky!
The ring continues to rumble as Glazkov cackles.
Cambric's mouth goes crooked, or as close to a smirk as she can manage, as she escapes the ring.
A hole tears open in the ring itself!
JC: Woah!
BG: Jesus Tapdancin’ Christ, what the fucking fuck!?
From the gaping hole in the ring, the Pope Lick Monster emerges!
The crowd goes ballistic at the sight of the 8 foot tall part-man, part-goat, part-sheep!
Cambric watches from the ring floor as the referee has fainted at the sight of the creature!
Seb rushes the massive creature, leaping with a knee to its jaw!
The monster tosses Seb aside effortlessly!
King enters the ring, and the beast swipes at him!
King narrowly dodges, and throws a left to its rib cage!
King throws a right, wincing as it connects!
King with a left, but the monster catches his hand!
The Pope Lick Monster tosses Isaiah aside!
Cambric takes mental note of the anguish in the challengers’ faces!
Glazkov is entrenched in maintaining the ritual that summoned the huge beast!
Seb is back to his feet, and he actually grabs the creature around the waist!
Isaiah is back to his feet, throwing the Royal Verdict at the creature!
This assists Seb, who lands a German suplex on the cryptid!
The monster howls as King helps Seb to his feet!
Seb shrugs off King, and they both watch as the monster simply gets up, now enraged!
The Pope Lick Monster throws a massive overhead axe handle at King!
NO!
Seb pushes his partner out of the way of the blow!
Cambric adjusts her hair, seemingly pulling something out of it!
Glazkov continues to maintain her ritual with a sadistic glint in her eye!
The creature clumsily swipes at Seb!
Seb ducks!
King points to Glazkov!
Seb acknowledges!
The monster throws a double clothesline, but both men duck!
Seb and King rush Glazkov, hitting stereo knees, knocking her off the apron!
Both men kick the books, and the Pope Lick Monster screams as it fades from existence and the rupture in the ring closes back over as though it were never torn!
Cambric re-enters the ring, and stalks Seb!
JC: Wait, Brody, what does she have in her hand?
BG: Cambric has another syringe, Jackie!
Cambric sticks Seb with the needle, and plunges the unknown contents into him!
King turns and sees this, but Cambric pulls the needle from Seb and menaces King with it!
Glazkov is back to her feet, and she's shaking the referee to rouse him!
JC: Referee Fred “Easily Startled” Starsky is back to his wits!
BG: The damage has already been done though, Jackie, the Exiles are through!
The referee commands Isaiah out of the ring as he’s not the legal man!
Cambric pitches the syringe out into the crowd!
BG: And one lucky fan is going home with a souvenir!
JC: Brody, just, no!
Seb catches Cambric and launches her with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex!
As Seb goes to get up, he falters, dropping to a knee!
Seb grips his head, trying to shake off the effects of whatever he was dosed with!
The referee has instructed the ring crew to take all the books away!
BG: Starsky is banning books ringside!
JC: Those are literal dangerous books, not conflicting ideologies Brody!
Cambric is slow to get to her feet, but Seb is fading as his body fights off whatever concoction she injected into him!
Isaiah calls to Seb, beckoning him to the corner for a tag!
Cambric is to her feet, and she observes the state of Seb!
Cambric brings Seb up, and hits a backstabber onto his helpless body…
FLATLINE PROTOCOL!
JC: Oh this is all but forgone! Seb is out from being poisoned by Dr. Holly Cambric!
BG: Seb and King have been so focused on each other they didn't account for the tricks the Black Rainbow might have had in store!
The referee goes to check Seb!
He raises the arm once.
JC: No, not like this!
The arm drops harmlessly to the mat.
The ref raises the arm a second time.
BG: Seb and King just can't get on the same page here!
The ref raises the arm a third time.
ISAIAH KING OFF THE TOP ROPE WITH AN ELBOW TO CAMBRIC, BREAKING THE HOLD!
Cambric recoils, rolling to her corner as the referee backs King out of the ring.
As soon as King is out, Glazkov reaches down and tags herself in!
Glazkov approaches the fallen body of Seb!
IT'S MOURNING IN LEXINGTON!
JC: Oh, here we go again, but the referee is watching King as he checks on Seb!
BG: This is just elementary at this point!
The referee reaches down and raises Seb’s arm.
It drops a first time!
King hops from the apron, and looks under the ring.
BG: What is Isaiah doing?
JC: I don't know, maybe hoping to find water to dowse his partner back to being awake!
King pulls a bag out from under the ring.
The referee checks Seb’s arm a second time!
It drops!
Glazkov cackles as Seb is on the verge of being put out!
Isaiah reaches into the bag.
The referee raises Seb’s arm a third time.
King pulls a snake out of the bag, and referee Fred “Easily Startled” Starsky faints at the sight!
JC: IT’S A MIRACLE! THE SNAKE THAT LIVES UNDER THE XWF RING HAS GIVEN THE EXILES A CHANCE!
BG: Starskey is catatonic due to ophidiophobia!
JC: What does that even mean, Brody?
BG: He doesn't like snakes and seeing one really startled him!
Glazkov releases the hold, and begins waving her fingers at the snake, attempting to beguile it!
Her books aren't ringside!
The snake slithers into the ring and wraps itself around Glazkov's ankles!
Cambric casually enters the ring, pulling out another syringe!
JC: Oh God, what could that be?
BG: I don't know, but she’s going to inject Glazkov!
As Glazkov struggles with the snake, Cambric reassures her, holding up the other syringe.
Glazkov lays back, prepared for this particular injection!
JC: That needle has to be filled with something!
BG: Pre-workout? Adrenaline? Who knows, but she’s planning on giving Glazkov a distinct edge!
Cambric flicks the syringe with her finger!
King off the top rope and plants Cambric with a flying DDT!
Cambric drops the syringe.
The referee comes to his senses.
The referee once again sees the snake, and is out from sheer panic!
King looks at the syringe and picks it up.
He looks at Glazkov, struggling with the snake!
King looks at Seb, still completely out from the injection earlier.
King's eyes dart back to the syringe in his hand, then back at Seb with a cocked eyebrow.
JC: What is Isaiah King thinking here?
BG: He doesn't know what's in his hands here, Jackie!
King shrugs, and kneels beside Seb, and injects him in the stomach with the needle!
Seb screams as he immediately sits up, his eyes nearly bulging from his skull!
The snake is scared by the loud noise from Seb and skitters off out of the ring and through the crowd!
Seb to his feet, and he grips Glazkov with a rear waistlock!
King with the Royal Verdict on Glazkov as Seb plants her with a German!
Seb bridges as King pulls the referee to his senses!
The referee crawls to the pinfall!
1…
2…
2.9…
HOLLY CAMBRIC BARELY BREAKS UP THE PIN!
The referee holds up two fingers, signalling a two count!
King charges Cambric! But Cambric pulls down the ropes as King goes up and over!
JC: King spills out!
BG: And now SEB is in the ring solo with both members of Black Rainbow!
Seb sets up, still amped up but far from clear headed!
Glazkov slowly rises, her eyes set on Seb!
Glazkov with a spinning back elbow to Seb!
[white]BG: Smooth, twirling cruelty–like the moon carving a circle through someone’s jaw!
JC: What?
Glazkov shoots off the ropes, aiming a single-leg running front dropkick!
BG: Striking high with reckless grace; a kiss of violence to the face.
JC: Why are you even talking like that, Brody, it's not like you.
BG: Look, Glazkov’s a leggy goth chick, I'm just trying to score points!
Glazkov sails through the air…
But SEB bends… And back body drops Glazkov up and over the top rope!
JC: Wow! I thought SEB was out on his feet, but The Empire LIVES!
Cambric throws a forearm with surgical precision at Seb’s throat!
…But Seb is feral, and catches the forearm with his teeth!
Cambric howls as Seb flips her, and spins around her, cinching in Nightfall!
Outside the ring, Glazkov scrambles to reenter the ring!
…But King catches her by the arm!
KINGS DECREE FROM ISAIAH!
Cambric struggles, but goes still as Seb arches back, putting torque on the sleeper!
The referee checks Cambric’s arm, and it drops!
A second time, and it falls!
A third time…
And Cambric is out from the sleeper!
WINNERS, AND NEW XWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS
THE EXILES
Justin York is pictured roaming the backstage area. He dons ripped denim and a plain black wifebeater along with some cheap sunshades. His Revolution title hangs over his shoulder like it’s the mantle that it should never leave.
York appears to be heading for the ring but stops at some XWF staff noticing the logo on their shirt. He grabs what appears to be a producer and tosses him through a plate glass window. He fires off right hands at the camera man and then snap suplexes him onto the some production boxes.
York tosses a nearby security guard into one of the many screens in the back playing the show.
“Fucking piece of shit. Invade my show with your goddamn fuckery.”
York appears to be pissed off and storms through Pryce Position and all staff clear the way in his hunt for Thaddeus Duke. York walks out onto the stage with no music and totally unannounced. He grabs a microphone and begins yapping on his way to the ring.
“Alright Thad, I’m done with the pissing match of our promotions. I’m done with having you ruin my shows with your fucking talent and I’m done plastering valor all over your arenas.”
BG: Uh-oh, looks like we’ve got company.
JC: I’ll say. The Pro Wrestling Valor boss is out here, Brody.
BG: And he’s pissed.
“Let’s get to the point and make things nice and simple for you, you fucking little puke. I challenge you and not only you but your company to a war. Promotion against promotion. Your four best against my four best. We top that sweet little sundae off with you against me. Valor against XWF. That is of course if you have the fucking short and curlies and your roster doesn’t faint like a bunch of pussies at the thought of being dominated by the superior promotion. Get the fuck out here and give me an answer.”
JC: Did he just say what I think he said?
BG: York has lost what’s left of his mind, Jackie. Does he honestly think that PWV has what it takes to take us on?
JC: Well, he just laid down the challenge! And if Thaddeus Duke accepts it, we’re going to War!
York chuckles as he sees no sign of Thad and drops the mic and his title and rolls out of the ring and drops a cameraman by tossing him into the steel steps. York goes under the ring and grabs a sledgehammer and just as he walks over to the ramp to begin destroying the set, the lights go out.
JC: I don’t think that’s security…
BG: You know damn well who it is. York called down the thunder, and now he’s got it!
JC: Thaddeus Duke is here!!
When the lights come on, it's not Thaddeus Duke, but his muscle bound freak of nature Cyrus Braddock.
JC: That is not Thaddeus Duke!
BG: Naw but it might be much worse!
York fights back but Braddock removes the sledge from his grasp and drives the head into Yorks midsection which doubles him over. The Revolution champion peels away and rolls into the ring in a strategic retreat.
Big Cy climbs the apron and steps over the top and into the ring. York tries to power himself up but Cy catches him, then lifts him up.
JC: The Lion's Justice!
BG: That is one vicious powerbomb!
Cy stares down at the fallen Justin York. He leans down and begins to pull York to his feet before delivering a second powerbomb.
JC: Brody, York has a match in a couple of minutes!
BG: Well, no one has ever accused York of bein’ smart. You don't call out the boss when he's got a bull in the China Shop.
JC: Perhaps it was wiser to focus on his match first because I don't think Braddock is done!
Braddock gets set to lift York up for a third powerbomb but a man hops the security railing and slides into the ring. Before Cy figured out what's going on, he says a lariat from the man.
JC: That's Matt Knox!
BG: Wellllll thangs just got a little more interestin’ I'd say, Jack.
JC: Knox is damn near as tall as Braddock!
Knox flies against the ropes for another lariat to the stunned Cy Braddock only for Braddock to try a big boot counter. Knox ducks underneath and flies to the ropes again. On the rebound, he leaps and delivers a shoulder tackle to Cy which staggers him back toward the ropes. Knox is back up and drives Braddock up and over the top rope with a clothesline.
Braddock lands on his feet, but nods at Knox before entering his own strategic retreat.
JC: This feud, this war between the XWF and Pro Wrestling Valor has just definitively picked up some steam!
BG: The XWF didn't start this war, but you know damn well the XWF doesn't back down from anybody.
Back in the ring, Knox kneels beside York for a few moments before helping the Revolution champion to his feet. York glares at Knox and the two share a moment of disgust for the long history they have together. They both look hesitant but in the end share a handshake in the middle of the ring not for a moment losing a line of sight on the other knowing what they’re capable of. KNOX AND YORK…. ALIGNED?!
JC: This match is… well, it’s not really a match, is it, Brody?
BG: No, it’s a statement. A warning. A reckoning. This is a personal crusade for Kieran King.
No more revolutions, no more kings, and after tonight, there’s going to be no more talk from the Black Rainbow.
The first, frenetic strums of Faith No More's "Gentle Art of Making Enemies" rips through the arena as strobes of gold and white cast across the stage and crowd. After several moments, and then a few more for good measure, Kieran King eventually saunters onto the stage, smugly mugging for the audience. In a flash, he sprints towards the ring and glides underneath the bottom rope - practically hovering off the mat. Keeping his momentum going, King darts towards the corner post and leaps towards the top. He crouches, and throws his arms up and back as if to backflip off the top... only to pull out at the last minute. He laughs at the crowd, mocking them as he settles into some pre-fight stretches.
JC: Kieran King requested this match. He wanted this. And you have to wonder: does Messenger understand what he’s walking into?
BG: It’s well documented what our two-time, back to back King of the XWF is capable of. There’s no one better in this business at both dishing it out and taking it. And from what I understand, this Messenger guy isn’t an active wrestler. So no, if he doesn’t understand he’s walking into a woodchipper, he’ll find out real quick Jackie.
JC: King isn’t playing here at all. He’s already called his shot at Relentless. Right now he’s just cleaning up our mess.
The lights cut again.
Static. Then—
A low hum vibrates the arena before the screen fills with a single pulsating white eye. From the stage, The Messenger appears, flanked by silence. He wears a black tunic with the Black Rainbow insignia on the chest, his face ghostly pale beneath the hood.
BG: There he is. The Messenger.
JC: Well, not ‘Thee’ Messenger, but whatever. Tonight he’s the lamb… being led straight into the slaughter.
BG: Poor idiot. Well, maybe not ‘poor’. It was his dumb fault for joining a cult in the first place.
JC: The cult known as Black Rainbow has to share responsibility with what’s about to happen. But I don’t see any Black Rainbow members with him. This really is a sacrifice. I can’t believe they’re actually letting him go through with this.
BG: That’s because they’re cowards, Jackie. If they were a real team, any one of them could have stepped forward and taken Messenger’s place. But instead they’re letting him prove that when the hooks are in that deep, that their minions are willing to give it all toward a greater good that doesn’t exist.
Messenger slowly walks down the ramp. He does not look at King. He does not stop. He steps between the ropes and into the ring… and stands perfectly still.
King Kieran
- vs -
The Messenger Singles Match
DING DING DING!
King doesn't charge. He saunters forward like a man in a dark alleyway, cracking his knuckles.
Then bam!
A straight right jab to Messenger’s chin.
A second to the mouth.
A third—this time a cross that spins Messenger sideways like a paper doll caught in a breeze.
BG: He’s treating this like a bar fight!
JC: That’s not wrestling, that’s pure hostility.
BG: True, but why bother to grapple with a man who has never wrestled a match in his life?
JC: Because winning and losing isn’t the point here, Brody. King literally is sending a MESSAGE back to Black Rainbow here!
King stalks closer and drives a fist into the gut. Another one to the ribs. Then a casual backhand that sends Messenger stumbling into the ropes. King waits, eyes cold, before striding forward and planting a stiff boot into the side of Messenger’s knee.
Messenger drops. King drags him upright by the hood and SLAPS him across the face hard. Then he throws a slow, deliberate elbow into Messenger’s jaw. Another one follows. Then a third, this one with a sickening crunch.
BG: He's drawing this out. Every strike is calculated.
JC: That sickening crack sounded like a broken jaw, man. I’m pretty sure there won’t be any more talk about ‘Dreamweaver’ coming from that mouth for a while.
BG: Kieran King does not care. He’s not going to stop with Messenger’s broken jaw. That’s just the first thing he wants.
JC: He wants Black Rainbow watching. He wants them feeling it too.
King grabs Messenger by the collar and throws him against the corner. He doesn’t rush. He stands there.
Then, slowly, methodically, he begins to fire stiff kicks into Messenger’s legs, thighs, ribs. One by one. Repeated kicks. Over and over, like a man tapping out a rhythm of disdain.
Messenger slumps. King backs up… charges… running knee strike to the face!
Messenger’s head snaps back. He slumps to the mat like a heap of flesh.
King stands over him, panting. Then kneels and grabs a handful of Messenger’s hood, whispering something cruel before driving another forearm across the face.
He drags him by the leg toward the ropes. Then the King leaves his ring.
BG: Where’s he going now?
JC: Maybe he wants the whole arena to see.
King yanks Messenger under the bottom rope and dumps him on the outside like a carcass.
He slams Messenger face-first into the commentary table and then rips the headset right off Jacuinde!
KING: Hello?! Is this thing on? I have a little message for the Black Rainbow!
He throws the headset back to JC and then smacks Messenger's head off the table again!
Then the apron. Then the steel steps. Methodical. Unhurried. Like gutting a deer. He throws Messenger into the barricade. Then a second time. A third. King climbs onto the barricade and leaps. Double axe handle to the top of Messenger’s skull.
BG: This is getting to the point now where King could finish Messenger off at any time. But he’s clearly playing with his food. Are you… are you back with us, Jacuinde?
JC: Yep, I think I'm good. And you're right. It’s not just a message, Brody. It’s a warning. For anyone and everyone who wouldn’t pick up the gauntlet. For those who stand in the way of HIS kingdom’s greatness!
Back in the ring now. King enters with a microphone.
KING: Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the Black Rainbow!
There is no applause. Just faces in the crowd watching the difference play out between an untrained fighter and a man widely regarded as one of the greatest professional wrestlers on the planet today. No matter how much the former may believe in their cause, it isn't enough.
Slingblade. With ease. He drops Messenger straight down on the back of his head, and the rest of his body crumples accordingly.
King, mercifully, goes for the cover…
ONE!
TWO!!
But he pulls Messenger back up off of the mat!
KING: SIKE!
Hurricanrana. Messenger crashes.
Pele kick. Then a stomp to the shoulder.
Then the hand. Then the foot.
He peels him up—brainbuster!
Still no cover.
KING: STOP IT! STOP IT! HE'S ALREADY DEAD! Buuut who cares, amirite? Here's the thing Paper-Boy, you and yours aren't the only ones with conviction around here. But there is only so far that conviction alone can get you. Sooner or later, you actually have to be able to put your money where your mouth is. Or… where it was.
King delivers a straight right hand to the Messenger’s jaw.
Then to the ropes—Whisper in the Wind!
Stomps. Measured, almost metronomic.
Crucifix position.
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
Shotgun dropkick into the chest!
450 Splash.
JC: KING MAKER! That’s it! That’s gotta be it!
Still no cover.
King stands. Points at the curtain.
KING: Hey Rainbow, come get your boy!
BG: Still calling them out. Still baiting the trap.
Messenger coughs blood.
And then…
The lights flicker.
A low sound, like boots stomping in unison.
JC: Here we go.
From the tunnel, the Praetorian Guard emerges. Towering. Hooded. Nameless and mostly faceless. But these men are at least 6’8” a piece, all pushing 300 plus of pure muscle. They file out from behind the curtain two by two. The crowd erupts.
KING: The King vs. a bunch of extras from the new Buffy reboot. Who You got your money on, X-dubya?
They charge the ring. Sliding in, numbers at a time. They swarm King like a pack of rabid dogs!
The ref has given a lot of leeway, but he can’t justify this. He throws his hands up and calls for the bell.
WINNER: KIERAN KING (By Disqualification)
JC: That’s a disqualification! King wins, but he’s not backing down!
One Guard lunges. King chop blocks the knee, kips up, pele kick to the dome—down goes the monster.
Another grabs him—LOW BLOW!
King springs off the ropes—CODEBREAKER! Ugly on the Outside drops the second brute!
Third man charges—King monkey tosses him over the top!
BG: He’s laughing again! He’s loving this!
King dives through the ropes—SUICIDE DIVE! Takes another Guard out on the floor! Rebounds into the ring—SPRINGBOARD FLYING FOREARM onto a fifth entering the ring!
Bodies scatter.
KING: ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!
But there’s more.
Another wave of Guards emerges. Six. Seven. Eight. They swarm the ring much as the first.
King grabs a steel chair from the outside and hurls it—CRACK! One Guard goes down! He vaults back in—Buzzsaw kick to another! A swift BANG from another chairshot catches a third who was climbing through the ropes!
He’s moving faster now, like an animal backed into a corner. Whisper in the Wind again—two Guards down!
As he’s getting back up, another LOW BLOW uppercut to the next goon!
King uses the ropes for momentum - Lionsault-like cross body wipes out the last standing one!
JC: He's fighting a damn army!
BG: And he’s winning, Jacko.
Then-
The lights dim.
With the Praetorian Guard all but dismantled, this leaves King in the ring alone with his chair to gasp for breath and collect himself.
As he does, a pale figure emerges in the glow of a single spotlight at the top of the Entrance Ramp.
The Advocate – Emilia Glazkov.
She walks with slow, deliberate grace. King is looking out from the ring now, daring her to come down. Then another spotlight flicks on and appears up in the stands on the opposite side of the ring!
The Monster Machine – Enigma.
King is looking back and forth now, but STILL is egging them BOTH to make their way to the ring. Then suddenly, ANOTHER spotlight flicks on.
Dr. Holly Cambric.
She appears on the North side of the ring.
And ANOTHER-
Preston Vanderlay Esquire, on the South side of the ring. His students are right beside him.
The four (plus) Black Rainbow members converge on the ring, with King standing tall in the center.
BG: Things are getting serious out here, Jack.
JC: It’s like the entire Black Rainbow is here! They’ve gotten King as weak as they could possibly get him otherwise. NOW they want to pounce?
BG: Now they want their revenge.
JC: Get out of there King!
KING: Long live the king.
King stands, arms outstretched in the center of the ring, breathing hard, but still smiling.
BG: He got what he wanted.
JC: He’s going to take on the entire Black Rainbow at once, by himself!
The Black Rainbow all enter the ring in sync, and now the fight is on! King charges Vanderlay’s students, hitting them with clubbing blows! Enigma comes up from behind and takes King in a waistlock, and Glazkov catches King with a Moonmilk Kiss to the chin! King shakes it off as best he can, and hits Enigma with a back elbow. Holly Cambric comes in from the opposite side and catches King with a Scalpel Line on the other side of his chin! This sends King fully into a daze. Enigma snatches King up from behind and drills him down into the center of the canvas with a full-nelson slam!
BG: And now the numbers game has caught up to him…
JC: It only took Glazkov, Cambric, Enigma, this new rich guy and his “students”, the entire Praetorian Guard, and the damn Messenger to get King on his back! This is disgusting!
BG: This is the fight that King wanted.
King works to fight his way back to his feet, stumbling into a near corner, but Vanderlay charges and hits Kieran with a corner splash. He shoves the two time King of the XWF out into the center of the ring where Enigma drills him with a massive spear, nearly cutting him in half with pure bulk. Enigma rises to his feet and taunts the crowd with a cutthroat symbol!
Preston motions for his students to grab a fresh chair and when they hand it over, he unfolds it and places it standing at the dead center of the ring. Cambric and Glazkov continually stomp the holy hell out of King, grinding him down to the mat, until Enigma calls for him to be lifted up.
JC: This doesn’t look good, Brody. I don’t like this at all! This isn’t about sending a message, they’re trying to break Kieran King’s back and end his career!
BG: Come on, King, you can do this! Fight out of it!
JC: They’re too much!
Cambric and Glazkov feed King up into the waiting arms of The Monster Machine, who snatches him up by the throat with both hands. He holds King in mid-air for what feels like forever, lining him up for the chair…
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-
NO!
BLACKOUT.
JC: Wait, what the?
BG: I can’t see a damn thing. Is Kieran okay?
JC: I don’t know!
THE SPOTLIGHT SHINES IN THE CENTER OF THE RING!
It’s AURORA!!!
AURORA WITH A BASEBALL BAT!
The crowd erupts as the lights come on with Aurora standing next to the fallen King, cocked and ready to swing in any direction! The Black Rainbow surrounds her, and they inch closer despite her best efforts to hold them all off the best that she can. Preston Vanderlay is instructing his students to stay back, as Enigma doesn’t seem too concerned with her puny weapon!
JC: Just when he needed a friend! King is saved by Aurora!
BG: Not so much a friend, but a true fighter for the XWF!
JC: It looks like Aurora is finally ready to stand up for something after all!
King pushes himself up off of the mat, albeit very slowly. He picks up the chair and gets into a fighting stance, with his back against Aurora’s. Now Black Rainbow is stepping backward instead of forward!
BG: Could this be a new beginning perhaps?
JC: The team that’ll finally take Black Rainbow down!
King is egging them to bring it. When suddenly…
AURORA TURNS AND DRIVES THE BAT INTO THE SMALL OF KING’S BACK!
BG: What?!
JC: WHAT?!
King drops the chair… Aurora drops the bat. She charges the ropes, springboarding off of them-
SOL SNATCHER ONTO THE CHAIR!
KING IS OUT COLD!!
BG: I don’t believe this!
Aurora stands up and looks around at the Black Rainbow members. Each one that looks at Aurora gazes upon her with a grin. Finally, Aurora smiles back at them.
JC: NO! It can’t be!
Finally a bloody, broken, and completely beaten Messenger drags himself back into the ring. He falls to his knees in front of Aurora… as if to worship her!
BG: I think we’ve found our ‘Dreamweaver’ Jackie.
JC: It makes me sick. Damn Aurora! Damn her to hell!
Aurora rolls King over into the center of the ring, and she places Messenger down on top of him. With that, one of Vanderlay’s students slides down and makes the cover-
One.
Two.
Three.
BG: Disgusting.
JC: Complete, utter disrespect. The match is already long over. This is wildly uncalled for.
BG: It’s not about the match, Jacko. It’s the damn message.
She leans down over Kieran, microphone in hand.
Aurora: Challenge accepted.
The Black Rainbow stands tall as Aurora pulls Messenger up for a group pose over King.
Aurora: May all of our dreams come true.
With that, she drops the mic, and looks out to the jeers of the crowd.
JC: And what message is that? That she’s a sore loser? That it took an entire army to get the better of Kieran King?! When King recovers from this, he’s going to rip her to shreds!
BG: Maybe so, Jack. But King threw down the gauntlet to the entire federation, and it looks as though Aurora, the Dreamweaver, the newest member… and perhaps leader… of the Black Rainbow… has picked it up?
JC: This isn’t over Brody! Not by a long shot!
Twenty midgets with sparkers in both hands held as high as their little arms can reach, line both sides of the entrance ramp. Thunder Knuckles walks out with his Anarchy tag-team championship slung over his shoulder, an arrogant smile emblazoned on his face, and bobbing his head back and forth to the music. The sparkers ignite as he walks past the midgets. Once Thunder Knuckles is down to the ring he rolls under the bottom rope and in one movement he pops up to his feet. With his back turned towards the camera, he raises his right fist in defiance. As soon as his fist goes up, counterfeit XBUX with Thunder Knuckles' face on them falls onto the crowd.
BG: And here comes THUNDER KNUCKLES, a former Universal Champion and our reigning Anarchy tag-team champion! He's defended one belt tonight already, and now, he's coming out take another! He earned his shot at York's Revolution Championship by defeating him on Anarchy, and now, he's cashing in his shot!
JC: Thunder Knuckles may be a Bastard, but he's one of the XWF's most beloved Bastards! Listen to that crowd roar for him!
BG: He may be a BAD GUY, he's not a -bad guy-! Well...he might be a -bad guy-, but these fans seem to love him for it!
JC: But there's not an ounce of love lost between him and Justin York! Knuckles and York have been jawing at each other for weeks now, and tonight, they're finally going to settle it all inside the ring!
One for the money rings throughout the arena as JY steps out from behind the curtain with a kings crown on. He stands center stage and takes in all of the boo’s before adjusting his crown with a smirk and heading down to the ring.
RING ANNOUNCER: INTROOODUUUUCINGGGG The One, The Only. He hails from TOOOROOONTOOO ONTARIOOOO CANADAAAAA, KING JUUUUUSTIIINNN YOOOOOORK!
York enters the ring and stand on the middle ropes and holds his crown high in the air while giving a death stare into the crowd.
JC: And here comes Justin York! One of the most dominant Revolution Champions to date, Justin York has managed to rule over the XWF while simultaneously running his own incredibly successful wrestling federation! A man of many hats, "King" York has promised to defend his crown here tonight!
BG: "King" York called TK out by name, and ever since that moment, TK has been chasing him down like a rabid dog! But tonight, York has the chance to finally end TK's yapping once and for all. If Justin York can put down that Bastard tonight, his Revolutionary reign will be catapulted to the next level!
JC: Taking down TK is easier said than done, Brody! But if anyone can do it, it's "King" Justin York!
BG: That may be true but lest we forget, York’s mouth got ‘im in trouble earlier tonight! He’s already had one fight!
The bell rings and these horses are off to the races! TK and York have been chomping at the bit to get at each other, and soon as they can, they do! The pair lock up in the middle of the ring, each man trying to grapple out an advantage against the other. While the pair both weigh about the same, TK's height makes a world of difference- standing with a distinct six-inch advantage, TK is able to outmaneuver Justin York, forcing him back into the corner turnbuckle! As soon as York's back hits the pads, TK starts laying into him with a slew of chops! Justin sells each chop brilliantly, his face cringing in pain as his chest starts to redden. The sound of the chops echoes throughout Kroger Field!
After TK has chopped York to his heart's content, TK grabs York by the arms and irish whips him into the other corner! After York makes contact with the opposite corner, TK charges towards him- but York sees him coming! TK charges into the corner with a spear, but Justin bounces out of the corner just in time! TK's shoulder connects with nothing but the ring post!
BG: TK is fast, but York is a heck of a lot faster!
JC: I think York might be quicker mentally, and physically!
TK groans in pain as his shoulder immediately bruises from the self-inflicted blow. With TK caught up in between the turnbuckle pads, York senses an opportunity to end this match before it even gets properly underway...
York rushes forward and grabs the back of TK's trousers, pulling him out of the corner and pinning his shoulders to the mat with a schoolboy pin!!!
1!
BG: York's going for the pin!
JC: Wait a second, he's grabbing the back of TK's tights! That's illegal!
2!
3- NO! The referee notices that York is clutching the tights, and immediately waves off the pinfall attempt!
JC: The referee caught on to York's dirty trick just in time!
BG: Dang it, the King almost had it! If he hadn't gone for the back of the trousers, this match might be over already!
The referee forces York to release the hold, and "King" York immediately rises to his feet and starts complaining about this "screwery!". York places an accusatory finger in the referee's chest as he chides him for refusing to count the 3.
JC: Uh-oh, Brody: York's losing focus on what matters!
BG: What matters?! What matters is that the referee refused to do his job!
JC: What matters, is that TK is getting back to his feet!
TK rises to his feet with a righteous anger in his eyes. From the way he's walking towards York, you can tell he's pissed off that someone tried to out-heel him on a Premium Live Event! TK grabs York by the shoulder and forces him to flip around. Then, TK delivers a nasty backhanded slap to York's face! King York takes a step back as he clutches his reddened cheek, then he shares a nasty glare with TK as the crowd rises to their feet.
BG: These two men are standing there like they HATE each other!
JC: That's because they do, Brody! I'm getting the sense that this is about to turn into a SLOBBERKNOCKER!
TK and King York exchange mean mugs for a few more moments, until the pressure finally bursts! Then, York and TK charge at each other, each man swinging wildly with haymakers! A big left from York, followed by a massive right from TK! A monstrous uppercut from York, met with a colossal overhand right from Knuckles! Blood flies from noses, mouths, and eyebrows as fist after fist is delivered to face after face!
Eventually, King York starts to get the upper hand in the brawl! He delivers a surprising kick to TK's midsection that causes the Bastard to keel over, then York follows it up with a forearm smash that sends TK reeling back down to the ground!
BG: The King is starting to take control of this match now!
JC: That's why he's the champion, Brody! He can always find himself an advantage!
York delivers a few big boots to his downed opponent as the crowd chants for their King. As TK starts crawling towards the ropes, King York drops atop of him, locking in a crossface! York screams at TK to tap out as TK struggles to break free! TK tries crawling towards the ropes, but that's no use! King York has the crossface locked in tight, and he's looking to humiliate TK right here!
TK reaches out, looking as if he's about to tap....but then, TK reaches back and gouges York in the eyes, forcing him to release the hold! York screeches in pain as his eyes begin bleeding, likely cut and infected from TK's disgusting fingernails!
JC: Oh my GOD! It looks like York is crying in blood!
BG: Jesus! I didn't know eye-rakes were that dangerous! No wonder they're illegal in the XWF!
JC: But the referee didn't see it, damn it! Damn it all to hell!
TK smirks, knowing he's just out-heeled Justin York. As the King clutches his bleeding eyes, TK struts towards him a confident swagger. As York lay atop the mat, TK delivers a few brutal kicks to the champion's ankle. Then, TK grabs a hold of the champion's ankle and lifts it into the air....the audience gasps, knowing exactly what's about to happen!
BG: He's going for the THUNDER STRIKE!
JC: This match- and the King's reign- could both be over!
TK keeps a firm hold of York's foot as he looks out into the crowd, clearly basking in this moment. Then, just as TK is about to deliver his patented THUNDER STRIKE.....King York kicks TK's hands away with his other foot! TK took too long to deliver his finisher, and now, the moment is rolling past him!
JC: What quick thinking from King York, denying TK the chance to deliver the big move!
BG: That move could've ended this match, but Justin York had other plans!
King York rolls up to his feet as TK steps away, clutching his bruised fingers and cursing under his breath. York wipes the blood from his eyes before hitting the ropes, and then charging at TK with a short arm clothesline that nearly takes the bastard's head off! TK drops to the mat like a sack of potatoes, but Justin York isn't done with him yet. The King delivers a brutal curb stomp to the back of the bastard's head before picking TK back up, and setting him into position for a belly to belly suplex...but TK claps both of York's ears, forcing him to release the hold and back away!
When York comes charging back in, TK DRILLS HIM WITH A SUPER-KICK OUT OF NOWHERE!
BG: SUPER KICK! SUPER KICK!
JC: That's the exact same super kick that put Justin York to sleep last Anarchy!
BG: That's the super kick that earned TK a shot at the Revolution Championship!
JC: If you ask me, Brody: TK might be developing a new finishing move before our eyes!
Thunder Knuckles makes the cover after landing his flawless super kick!
1!
2!!
KICKOUT!!!!!!!!
JC: The King just won't die!
BG: What more could it take to keep York down?!
Slipping a shoulder up just in time, Justin York refuses to lay down! Thunder Knuckles slams the mat in frustration before rising to his feet. Then, he starts laying into York with a flurry of kicks! But TK is no soccer player, and eventually, his legs start to tire out and his kicks begin to lose their force. That's when TK decides to step back and take a break, wiping a comically sized bead of sweat off of his face. Then, TK reaches into his pocket and pulls out a blunt. He lifts it up to his lips and goes to light it when, all of a sudden, the referee snatches it away!
BG: Wait a damn minute- that referee is stealing TK's weed!
JC: What the hell does TK think he's doing?! Is he taking a smoke-break in the middle of the match?!
BG: Isn't that what Dolly Waters and her revolutionaries want? For wrestlers to have 15 minute smoke breaks in every match?
JC: I'm pretty sure that's not what she means when she's talking about worker's rights, Brody!
Thunder Knuckles starts arguing with the referee, but the referee isn't giving him his weed back! TK starts to stew into a rage, and unbeknownst to him, Justin York is quietly recovering in the corner! Not only that...but when the camera zooms in, you can see that "King" York is applying a pair of brass knuckles to his fist!
BG: York is putting those brass knuckles on, but the referee doesn't see it! He's too busy confiscating TK's smokes!
JC: Don't do it, Justin York! Don't stoop to this low!
But York isn't listening to the commentary team: he's only listening to his heart. York slowly rises to his feet as the crowd hushes in awe. King York's eyes have once again gone bloody, still filled with the dirt and tar from beneath TK's fingers. None the less, his determination is clear! As TK stays arguing with the ref, Justin York charges forward and delivers a MASSIVE HAYMAKER!
....
TO THE REFEREE!
JC: That Bastard ducked just in time! York accidentally took out the referee!
BG: I'm not sure TK even needed to duck, York's aim was terrible! It must be all that blood in his eyes!
The referee collapses to the ground, quite possibly dead from the force of the blow. Like, deadass. I promise you that bro ain't getting up after that big blow from the King!
York starts celebrating, until he looks down and sees that TK isn't there....
York turns around and swings again with his brass knuckles...
But TK isn't there, either!
TK steps back, just outside of the shorter man's reach...
AND THEN THUNDER KICKS JUSTIN IN THE BALLS!
York collapses to the mat, clutching his groin as TK smirks.
TK walks up to the King's body, and grabs his right foot by the ankle...
THUNDER STRIKE!
TK goes for the cover, crawling back atop Justin York's body.
BG: This match could be over, but there's not a referee in sight! The King knocked him out!
JC: Wait a second, Brody- look at the top of the ramp!
Sure enough, another referee can be seen standing at the top of the stage! The crowd pops as the new referee starts sprinting down the ramp, sliding into the ring and immediately making the count!
1!
2!!
3!!!
Winner and NEW REVOLUTION CHAMPION - Thunder Knuckles
BG: He's done it! By God, he's done it! Thunder Knuckles has just defeated King York in back-to-back matches! Thunder Knuckles has just become a DOUBLE CHAMPION!
JC: It wasn't clean, Brody, but it happened! TK used every dirty trick in the book, and now, he's walking out of Kroger Field with two belts around his waist!
TODD: Folks, this next match is sure to be a doozy! We’ve got two very different men set to compete for the highest honor of Thursday Nights: The Anarchy championship.
STARS: Two elite competitors, known the industry over! These two men are among the clearest pieces of evidence that Anarchy IS the A-Show!
TODD: And with two very different attitudes toward you, Jimmy.
STARS: …
"In the Face of Evil" by Magic Sword reverberates over the PA. Row after row, aisle to aisle, fans rise from their seats throughout the arena and cheer, knowing one of their workhorses is about to appear!
As the second, third, and fourth chords of the theme reverberate, three spotlights shine down, one over another: A green circle, a gold triangle over it, and a crimson line intersecting the other two. On the Tron, his monikers cycle through one after another:
TACTILIZING ONE
GAME CHANGER
LIMIT BREAKER
From there, the beat triggers the house lights to illuminate the figure of Larry Tact standing on stage. He's looking down as he hones in for the battle ahead.
TODD: Here he is! Thunder Pro Wrestling World Champion AND Hall-of-Famer! Recent XWF Television champion! The Tactilizing One! Larry Tact!
STARS: He calls himself The Game Changer and he is among the highest-level competitors in whatever organization he works in. After multiple decades in this industry, still finding new gears, still constantly elevating and changing his game!
TODD: Well said, Jimmy!
STARS: And you can too, for a single installment of $2750! Tactilize Yourself today!
TODD: …Jimmy, what are you doing?
STARS: It’s an ad read! Live on the show! The future of marketing!
After a few seconds, Tact whips his head up and trudges to one side of the stage, firing up the fans by pointing towards different sections. He goes to the other side of the stage and beats his chest with a hand before opening his arms to the reaction of the crowd. "THIS IS YOUR SPOTLIGHT!" Larry bellows as the audience hoots and hollers back. He returns to center stage and points to either side of the crowd. The lights cut out except for green, gold, and crimson spotlights highlighting the audience in attendance. Larry makes his way down to the ring, pounding fists with some fans at ringside before hanging onto the middle rope and pulling himself up onto the apron.
Facing the stands, he opens his arms up and puffs his chest out to receive the feverish energy of his supporters. Wiping his boots on the apron, Tact proceeds into the ring. He climbs a turnbuckle and again holds his arms out. “BEST GAME WINS!!!” he exclaims to another pop before descending and making his final preparations for the match.
…
Suddenly, there’s the strum of a banjo heard from off-stage…
Through the apron, bursts “Micheal Graves” (conceivably), Anarchy champion, sporting the “Dark Warrior” mask, and the belt on his shoulder.
TODD: There he is! As of today, the Anarchy champion for three-hundred-and-one days! Sixteen days away from the longest title reign in the XWF’s modern era, ‘The Dark Warrior’ Micheal Graves!
STARS: And you can catch some of his best work of that three-hundred-plus-day reign… (as well as some of Mark Flynn’s body-of-work)... on the ‘Best of Micheal Graves’ DVD! Just need to… print off new copies! Keep pre-ordering, we’re restocking as fast as we can!
TODD: Restocking because of high sales, or restocking because ‘Graves’ burnt your inventory this past week?
As the banjo strings are plucked, ‘Graves’ strolls down the ramp… As an entourage follows him!
Irwin, Mark Flynn’s #1 fan is plucking the banjo, playing the folk song…
Behind *him* are the Students of Gravy.
Miss Furry paws at a triangle, which isn’t plugged into anything…
While Peter Parkor brings up the rear, holding a microphone…
Peter raises the mask over his lips and lifts the mic.
♫ You may think that you’re neutral ♫
♫ There are no neutrals though ♫
♫ You’re either with the wrestlers ♫
♫ Or a pawn of the CEOs ♫
The fans join in, knowing the chorus by heart…
WHICH SIDE ARE YOU OOOOOOOOOON? WHICH SIDE ARE YOU OOOOOOOOOON?
‘Graves’ continues to walk down the ramp to the beat, staring at the challenger in the ring… as the entourage behind him plays…
♫ The Boss wants us divided ♫
♫ He don’t want this song sung ♫
♫ But us wrestlers, we fight until ♫
♫ That final bell is rung ♫
TODD: Do you feel this ballad’s directed at you, Jimmy?
STARS: Oh, c’mon, Todd, why the hell would I think that? You think I’m so vain, I must think this song is about me? Wel-
♫ Can you hear us, Jimmy ♫
♫ We’re at your office door ♫
♫ The last boss left us hungry ♫
♫ The workers demand more ♫
WHICH SIDE ARE YOU OOOOOOOOOON? WHICH SIDE ARE YOU OOOOOOOOOON?
STARS: …There are a lot of guys named Jimmy. And several of them have offices!
…Finally, finishing his slow, deliberate march, ‘Graves’ enters the ring and lifts the belt over his head.
♫ We won’t be ignored, Starboy ♫
♫ The Union’s tried and true ♫
♫ Won’t burn another DVD ♫
♫ Next thing we’ll burn is YOU ♫
WHICH SIDE ARE YOU OOOOOOOOOON? WHICH SIDE ARE YOU OOOOOOOOOON?
Irwin finishes with a little banjo solo…
Before humbly sliding his instrument behind his back…
TODD: Clearly ‘Graves’ using his entrance to send a message to our current Anarchy General Manager. Your thoughts, Jimmy?
STARS: …This is a BIG misunderstanding. I’d love to have ‘Graves’ and his plucky little folk band in my office…
…
STARS: The moment it’s done being repainted? They’re the first appointment I’ll make!
The entourage heads back up the ramp, as ‘Graves’ hands the belt off to the official, never taking his eyes off his opponent.
The moment the bell rings ‘Graves’ drops into a low stance, loose and wiry, beckoning Tact with fingers twitching and manic.
TODD: Graves starting this one off, daring Tact to wrestle his style! There’s nearly no better wrestler in the XWF in a chain sequence than Micheal Graves!
STARS: I’m not one to question our champion’s reasoning… but Tact is wrestling incarnate! One of the purest chain wrestlers in the game today! This is a riskier play than I think Graves might realize…
Tact’s face stays neutral, focused. He shifts into a grappling posture, exhaling slowly, shoulders squared—calm, prepared, unflustered by ‘Graves’’s baiting!
‘Graves’’s wicked snarl flattens… He charges in!
And the two lock up!
TODD: Here we go!
‘Graves’ immediately snakes behind—smooth, fast—and clamps on a rear waistlock. His lips curl into a grin, pleased to have the first edge. He jerks Tact side to side, trying to break his balance and the Tactilizing One off his feet!
Tact’s jaw tightens. His brow furrows—not in panic, but in annoyance. He doesn’t fight Graves’ motion; instead, he uses his legs to deadweight and pivot, breaking the hold with pure veteran tact. He flips behind ‘Graves’ into a standing switch.
TODD: Deft footwork there by Tact, using his size advantage to its maximum effectiveness!
STARS: Tact has six inches and sixty pounds of pure muscle on ‘Graves’! And if ‘Graves’ thought he could use simple veteran tricks to bring down his larger opponent… Tact might be the only guy that has as deep a bag of tricks as ‘Graves’ does…
‘Graves’’ expression jolts from smug to startled—his mouth slack for just a beat as he realizes he’s been reversed.
Tact latches his arms around ‘Graves’ waist, looking to heave him up off his feet, then facefirst onto the mat…
…But ‘Graves’ instinctively drops low, somersaulting through, dragging Tact up-and-over as well! Grabbing a wrist into a grounded wristlock!
TODD: Oh! Graves is slippery—like trying to wrestle a scarf soaked in oil!
STARS: See, this is what makes Anarchy THE A-Show! Look at the caliber of talent in that ring right now! We’ll iron out the contract-y bits in time, but THIS! IS! WRESTLING!
As ‘Graves’ works his way up to one knee, increasing pressure to Tact’s arm… Tact winces but doesn’t flinch.
His lips purse, breathing deeply…
In a flash, Tact kicks one leg free and rolls with the pressure, flipping ‘Graves’ just like ‘Graves had flipped him!
Just as quick, Tact turns it into a grounded hammerlock. He presses a knee between ‘Graves’’ shoulder blades with surgical precision!
The crowd oooohs and ahhhhhs at the technical exhibition here!
TODD: Once again, Larry Tact proves on equal footing with Graves in chain wrestling! A claim I think only a single-digit number of competitors can make!
STARS: Look at Graves’s face right now! He knows he’s being outworked and he is not happy about it!
TODD: Do I detect a hint of delight from the Anarchy GM that ‘Graves’’s reign is looking vulnerable?
STARS: I’m DELIGHTED that Anarchy is putting on the Match-of-the-Night right now, Todd! Stop inventing drama where there’s none!
‘Graves’ pounds a fist to the mat in frustration as Tact twists his opponent’s arm…
Tact raises his knee, looking to drive it into ‘Graves’’s back…
But ‘Graves’ explodes sideways, corkscrewing out and twisting into a headscissors, squeezing Tact’s throat shut between his calves!
TODD: Yet another counter from Graves!
Tact grunts, eyes going wide as his head’s caught. His arms shoot up instinctively to block pressure. He uses his strength, rolling his hips… and stacking Graves onto his shoulders!
TODD: First pinfall of the match!
The official drops to count!
1!
2!
THR-’Graves’ rolls backwards, releasing the head-scissors to break the pin!
TODD: Tact and Graves are going hold for hold, and I’ve got chills. This is pro wrestling at its purest”
STARS: See?!? That’s what I’m talking about! THIS is marketable. THIS is a SHOWCASE! If Graves would just stop threatening to torch the merch table, we’d be ROLLING in dough!
TODD: Which wouldn’t be a problem for you if Tact won tonight, right, Jimmy?
STARS: You got that r-...TODD, STOP INVENTING DRAMA!
The crowd roars. ‘Graves’ rolls backwards on his feet to regain a vertical base, rolling his shoulder… Before nodding at Tact, showing respect.
…Tact doesn’t return the gesture, laser-focused on this match.
They circle again.
‘Graves’ darts in, this time faster, locking up tight. He hooks the leg and tries for a takedown—but Tact plants his feet, a wall, and doesn’t budge. Graves grits his teeth, eyes going wide as the move stalls.
TODD: I think you called it just right, Jimmy! ‘Graves’ has the chops to grapple with anybody… I’ve seen him bring down 600-pound Big Preesh with a drop toehold! The difference is, Tact knows exactly how to move in a way that maximizes that size advantage and ‘Graves’ has no way to overcome it!
STARS: Word of advice, Todd. I’m *always* right.
Tact gives a sharp shake of the head—not this time. Then with a sudden burst of force, he hauls Graves into a front-facelock…
And shoots him up and over!
SNAP SUPLEX!
‘Graves’ hits the mat hard, shoulders and neck thudding. His back arches in pain, mouth open in a silent gasp of pain!
TODD: Tact just launched the champ like a sack of bricks!
Tact rises first, looming over ‘Graves’ like a wall of granite. His expression is cold, measured and merciless.
TODD: Larry Tact is slowing the match way down. That’s classic vet strategy. He’s got the size and the ring IQ—why play Graves’ speed game?”
STARS: “Exactly! Graves is a spark plug, and what do you do with a spark? You smother it. Tact’s showing every future challenger what it means to face a franchise player.
Tact grabs ‘Graves’ by the wrist and yanks him back into a grounded hammerlock. Tact shifts his weight with subtle leverage, sitting back to twist ‘Graves’’s shoulder out of its socket. The torque builds. His eyes stay dead ahead, focused—not even watching Graves squirm, in pain beneath him.
But amidst ‘Graves’’s agonized expression, there’s clear signs of ‘Graves’ calculating.
TODD: This position is all Tact right now, but the gears are clearly turning in ‘Graves’s head!
STARS: When he gets that look on his face, you know an idea as violently brilliant as it is insane is coming together in his mind’s eye!
The ‘Dark Warrior’’s grit as his right hand claws across the mat, not in desperation, but direction. He uses his legs to pivot his hips in micro-adjustments, turning his body just enough to relieve pressure.
Tact’s veteran guile catches ‘Graves’ trying to relieve that pressure. He leans in deeper, trying to cut the angle.
Graves' lips curl in defiance—he was waiting for that. He rolls through, sweeping the legs and spinning behind Tact into a side waistlock.
TODD: Wow! Graves just reversed a hammerlock on a guy who has sixty pounds on him. That’s high-level mat science!
STARS: ‘Micheal Graves’ is a goddamn wrestling genius, Todd. Imagine if he applied even a fraction of that mind to, like, marketing. Great news! He doesn’t have to! For just six point nine percent…
Tact’s face twitches surprised. He rolls backwards, breaking the hold with a leg scissors counter, wrapping his legs around ‘Graves’’ throat!
TODD: Tact’s the fastest learner in the biz, using ‘Graves’’ leg scissors counter earlier in the match against him!
But ‘Graves’ rolls with him, hooks the arm, and snaps into a deep wristlock! His expression is intense now—jaw tight, sweat beading—but his eyes flash with predatory focus.
STARS: Bold of Tact to assume ‘Graves’ hasn’t fully mapped out every counter to his own counter, and then counters to those counters!
TODD: Too true, Jimmy! No one is as meticulous about the sport of wrestling as ‘Micheal Graves’.
‘Graves’ yanks the wrist down violently, threatening to isolate the arm.
TODD: That wrist control! He’s setting up for a Fujiwara—if he gets it, that’s the kind of submission that ends matches!”
STARS: Matches?!? That’s the kind of move that ends careers!
TODD: You sound uncharacteristically concerned, Jimmy!
STARS: Tact could be off TV for months! Do you know how hard t-shirt sales dip when talent fails to make their TV appearances!
TODD: Ah, there we go.
The veins in ‘Graves’ arms expand as the Anarchy champ tries to bully the Tactilizing One to the mat, to lock in that Fujiwara Armbar!
Tact’s face floods with urgency. Eyes wide, lips curled back in a grimace…
In a flash, Tact smacks at Graves’ hand—quick, desperate precision. The slap echoes as Graves’ grip jolts loose, just enough…
…For Tact spins out, dropping to his back and rolling to the floor under the bottom rope!
TODD: Tact escapes!
He lands on his feet, stumbling back, shaking out the arm. His face shows no pain—he won’t allow it—but his fingers flex subtly, and his eyes stay locked on ‘Graves’ with wary respect, delivering the subtlest nod of acknowledgement.
‘Graves’ remains in the ring, breathing hard, not chasing. His eyes are narrow and locked.
TODD: That’s not just a retreat. That’s survival instinct kicking. Larry Tact, Ring General, knew his options were kill his opponent’s momentum by rolling to the outside or risk a sudden submission defeat!
STARS This is what makes Graves so dangerous, Todd! He’s never not two steps from victory! He’s like the monster in a horror movie! You think you’ve got the size or the legacy advantage… you think he’s dead… you think the credits are rolling… And like THAT, your rotator cuff’s been snapped clean off![/blue]
Tact circles the ring with a veteran’s calm, taking deep re-centering breaths, forcing the official to begin a count…
In the ring, ‘Graves’ stares down… Waiting like a predator outside a cave with one exit…
TODD: Interesting choice by Graves giving Tact a full ten seconds to recover. Is it a bad one, Jimmy?
STARS: Hard to say. You want to strike while your opponent’s weak, but Tact’s got so many tricks up his sleeve, chasing him opens you up to getting planted on your back outside! Graves has the champion’s advantage, he knows if Tact wants the belt tonight, he has to get back in there… But both these men are coming up right now with a fool-proof plan to end this one.
At the count of six, Tact rolls under the bottom rope.
He springs for a collar-and-elbow tie-up—
But ‘Graves’ is ready, slipping beneath the grapple attempt and snapping off low kicks to the thigh and calf, chipping at the foundation like a lumberjack eyeing a redwood!
TODD: Tact trying to use that size to bully Graves… But ‘Graves’ masterfully striking and weaving to bring Tact down to his level!
Tact backs off, swinging a wide right hook, trying to herd ‘Graves’ into a corner.
‘Graves’ doesn’t bite. Instead, he darts inside with sharp knee lifts to the ribs—then adds ear claps to scramble Tact’s equilibrium—before weaving back out of Tact’s strike radius!
STARS: Sweeping like a bomber jet, Graves is! Attacking and receding! If Tact doesn’t do something soon…
Tact drives his shoulder forward like a linebacker!
…Counter leg sweep! Graves takes Tact to the mat!
…On the mat, Tact immediately clutches his knee! His face contorts in pain!
TODD: Uh oh! You hate to see that happen mid-match… Is Tact going to be able to continue?
STARS: Eerily similar to a knee injury that Mark Flynn tried to fight through that could have ended his career!
…
STARS: Don’t know why I’m thinking of Mark Flynn during a Micheal Graves match…
The crowd gasps. ‘Graves’ hesitates, as the official kneels beside Tact, checking for signs of real injury, asking if Tact can cont-
IN A FLASH, Tact surges off the mat like a trap springing shut—
SPINEBUSTER! Graves is driven into the canvas!
The canvas shakes from the suddenness of that spinebuster!
‘Graves’’ body jolts like a crash test dummy!
TODD: Whoa! What just happened!?! Was Tact playing possum? Or did Tact just will himself through the pain?!
STARS: With Larry Tact, it’s always a riddle—wrapped in an enigma—wrapped in bad intentions. The most important thing right now? It was effective!
Tact’s teeth grit, dragging himself on top of ‘Graves’!
He hooks the leg!
1...!
2—NO!
Tact looks up at the official, who holds two fingers…
Tact stoically rises slowly, deliberately, with a hand still brushing that knee. The look in his eyes says nothing. No grin. No snarl. Just stone.
‘Graves’ cradles his skull, rolling onto his face on the mat…
Tact limps forward as he pulls ‘Graves’ up with a rough grip, underhooking the arms…
But Graves breaks Tact’s grip! Short headbutt straight to Tact’s chest! Another! Tact staggers back into the ropes… and explodes forward!
SHORT-ARM CLOTHESLINE!
…But Graves ducks! He latches onto Tact’s neck
Snap neckbreaker! FROM OUTTA NOWHERE!
TODD: The champ’s still in it! That gutsy sequence bought Graves a little time to recover!
Both men are down now, splayed out, breathing hard. The crowd claps in rhythm, dueling chants buzzing amidst the electricity at Kroger Field!
TODD: What an absolute war these men have waged thus far!
STARS: But only one guy can represent Thursday Nights! Only one guy can claim themselves Anarchy’s TOP CHAMPION!
‘Graves’ rolls to his knees first, still sore, still rattled, but dialed in. He grabs Tact’s wrist and begins to rise—going right back to the arm, trying to weaken the veteran’s base of offense.
Tact fires back with a forearm to the ribs, stopping Graves’ momentum.
Graves claps back with a lightning-quick knee to the midsection, folding Tact briefly—then spins behind for a backslide pin attempt!
ONE!
TW-Tact rolls through!
TODD: Tact demonstrating he has plenty of juice left in the tank with a kickout at one! Can ‘Graves’ claim the same!
‘Graves’ kips up to his feet—and eats a knee to the gut! Tact traps him in a double underhook!
TODD: We might be looking at a Tactful Surrender! New Anarchy champion!
Tact rolls ‘Graves’ forward to lock in the Tactful Surrender (Tequila Sunrise)!
…
But Graves wriggles out, rolls forward, and traps Tact’s wrist again—this time with a Fujiwara grip locked in deep!
TODD: There it is! Fujiwara Armbar! Center of the ring! That arm’s been battered for minutes!
STARS: This could be it, Todd! The ref’s in position—Tact might tap! He’s got nowhere to go!
Tact’s eyes flare. He scrambles, twisting, kicking—but Graves wrenches it in tighter, grinding him toward the canvas!
The camera zooms in on Tact’s face—every muscle tight, sweat streaming, teeth grit in agony—but his hand hovers…
…
HE TAPS OUT!
WINNER AND STILL XWF ANARCHY CHAMPION: ‘MICHEAL GRAVES’ (allegedly)
The moment the bell rings, ‘Graves’ releases the hold.
Both men lie exhausted on the mat, looking spent, chests heaving. If you’d just tuned in you’d have no idea who won or lost, you’d only see a crowd on their feet, applauding what they’d just witnessed!
TODD: What a match! What an absolute DUEL! Larry Tact proved every bit the champion’s equal tonight! He took the Longest-Reigning Anarchy champion of All-Time to his very limit… And if things shook out just a hair differently, Larry Tact could claim to be the first man in over 300 days to beat ‘Micheal Graves’!
STARS: It’s like I said, though, Todd! ‘Graves’ can be legally dead, and he’ll still be two moves from victory at any moment. Tact and he put on a five-star classic, the runaway best match on this show!
TODD: Well, we haven’t seen Leap of Faith or the Uni match yet…
STARS: MATCH! OF! THE! NIGHT! And if you want to make sure you can watch it any time you want, online, offline, be sure to pre-order ‘Best of Micheal Graves’ Volume 2! Coming soon to stores nationwide!
TODD: …
JC: Brody, I don’t know exactly how to quantify with words everything we’ve witnessed tonight–
BG: – Well, thank goodness for that! Ain’t no one trying to hear prattle on some silly expose’... these people want to see some action!
JC: Then they’re in for a real treat, because up next? The very match this event is named for: The Leap of Faith match. Out of these eight competitors tonight, one of them is going to walk away with what is essentially a guaranteed bid for the championship of their choosing!
BG: Oh this match has made careers over the years. Think about some of the winners of this match in years past: Corey Smith, Bobby Bourbon, Riaon Kido, Ned Kaye… the list goes on and on, FULL of XWF hall of legends talent.
JC: You’re not wrong partner, and when you talk about this field, in particular tonight, it’s already full of future hall of legends. Matter of fact, you have one of them at the top of the card here, the returning Aidan Collins for starters… then SEB? James Shark? Isaiah King? Syn? Dickie Watson? Scoops McGee? JC Keeton? This match is a who's who of spectacular wrestling talent… but if you’ll all be so kind and turn your attention to the top of Kroger Field in Commonwealth Stadium, where our competitors are gathering now.
On the west end of the stadium is a massive press-box that towers at least 100 feet above the field, and positioned in the middle of it, a crane that has a 24/7 briefcase suspended an additional 30 feet in the air. If someone is going to capture the case, they’re going to climb the crane, and take a leap of faith into the stands of Kroger field.
The surface of the press box is about 50 feet in length, but only around 30 feet wide.
The crowd begins to roar as they look into the beautiful Summer evening sky to see 8 helicopters all making their approach to the press box.
JC: Whoa! What a spectacle, Brody! The Kentucky National Guard’s airborne division is giving our competitors a lift tonight!
BG: o say can you seeeeee?! By the dawn’s early light!
One by one, the helicopters lower just enough where the wrestlers can make a safe jump onto the top of the press box.
Looking at the press-box from the field, Aidan Collins, Matthias Syn, JC Keeton and James Shark are released on the left side… Dickie Watson, Sebastian Evertte Bryce, Isaiah King and Scoops McGee are released on the right- the crane separating the two sides.
An official appears up top, we don’t really know how she got there- but she raises an arm, and then brings it down!
The match is officially underway!
Leap of Faith Match - 24/7 Briefcase
Aidan ‘Blizzard’ Collins
- vs -
James Shark
- vs -
Sebastian Everett-Bryce
- vs -
Isaiah King
- vs -
Matthias Syn
- vs -
JC Keeton
- vs -
Dickie Watson
- vs -
Scoops McGee
The match is officially underway!
The four competitors on each side take off sprinting toward the crane. From the left it’s JC Keeton, the former basketball standout out sprinting everyone, and on the right it’s Dickie Watsons doing the same.
JC: Whoa! Right out of the gate, the hometown kid here, JC Keeton is showing off his wheels!
BG: You just like his name is all.
JC: I like the hometown story here, the man who overcame cancer and now look at him now, competing for the chance to win a 24/7 briefcase here in Lexington, Kentucky!
Keeton and Watson reach the crane at the same time, and Dickie throws a punch, but JC ducks and Dickie’s fist punches the steel step hand rail. He hollers out in pain as Keeton takes advantage slamming Watson’s head down onto the base of the crane.
But from behind Keeton here comes Collins, and then SEB from behind Watson. Keeton takes a clubbing blow to the back of the neck from Collins, meanwhile SEB freaking SUPLEXES Dickie on the roof of the press box. The crowd roars before gasping as Dickie starts sliding, and rolling toward the edge.
JC: OH! The danger of this match can’t understated-
BG: Understated? Christ, Jacko, we’re watching these people fight on the roof of a damn football stadium, each aiming to climb and leap off of a damn crane. These men knew what they were signing up for…
JC: Look there! Syn and Scoops!
Scoops and Syn gave up racing to the crane almost immediately, and have been busy teeing off on one another. Scoops connects with some of his trademark stiff jab, then jumps as high as he can with a vertical leap- STANDING DOUBLE AXEHANDLE!
But Syn punches him in the gut in midair! Scoops tumbles over.
King has caught up to the crane meanwhile though, and he and his tag partner are throwing blows at one another! SEB throws a punch that King dodges, and a quick followup roundhouse kick, THAT KING ALSO DODGES!
DISCUS ELBOW FROM KING! SEB’S KNEES TURN TO JELLO… not literally.
Meanwhile, Collins has been taking Keeton to task- A NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX! AND A SECOND! AND A - - - PUNCH TO THE JAW FROM JAMES SHARK MID-COMBO!
JC: Where the heck did Shark come from???
BG: I don’t know, he’s so little I almost didn’t see him!
JC: Little? That’s a former Universal Champion, Brody!
BG: And that’s why he’s up there, partner! Just like these others, trying to reclaim that glory!
Dickie is back to his feet, rushing over at Syn, but eats a standing clothesline. Meanwhile, Aidan throws up his fists, blocking a barrage of punches from Shark, he knees James in the gut, side steps and, BACK SUPLEX! Now Shark is tumbling toward the edge of the press box. Aidan stands and- KING WITH A DIVING DOUBLE AXEHANDLE FROM THE BASE OF THE CRANE!
Collins moves out of the way - - - DISCUS ELBOW FROM KING - - - THAT COLLINS DUCKS UNDER!
AND KING CRUSHES JC KEETON!!!
Collins eyes go wide as he sees Keeton eat the devastating blow meant for him- he darts toward the crane and begins climbing up it with the quickness.
King looks over at Collins, ready to stop him, BUT SHARK IS ON THE LOSE AGAIN!
HE CHARGES KING AND - - - LONELY ROAD KNEE STRIKE!
JC AND OH MY GOD! NOW SHARK, SHARK NOOO HE’S!
BG: HE’S FALLEN FROM THE PRESS BOX! HE’S OUT OF THIS MATCH!
Collins is scrambling up the ladder of the crane still, but SEB grabs his leg from behind, Collins turns back to boot him in the face, BUT SCOOPS BEATS HIM TO IT!
Scoops blasts SEB in the lower back with a stiff punch causing him to let go of Collins. SEB turns back to fight him, but Scoops is trying to take advantage- - - SCOOPING SEB UP!!!
SCOOP SLA- - - -SEB SLIPS BEHIND HIS BACK!
GERMAN SUPLEX!
Scoops’ neck thrashes off the metal roof of the press box. But before SEB can regain himself and pursue Collins again, it’s Dickie!
Watson attacks with a jumping Kick, but gets caught and suplexed back onto the steps of the crane, jarring the machinery, and slowing Collins a bit as he loses some balance. He lowes so much balance he falls over and now he’s dangling from the stair railing about a quarter way up the crane!
JC: Not a favorable position for Blizzard here! He’s bangling about 10 feet in the air above the press box
BG: AND DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO THE LEDGE!
Collins sees something though- his eyes go wide…
FLYING FIST!!!
He jumps from the crane and FISTS JC Keeton right in the face as both men crash down on the roof. But Collins jolts back to his feet, fighting through the impact. He takes a step back and… sees Isaiah King… ICE PICK SPEAR TO KING!!!!!!
King is folded in half and Aidan Collins is fired up!
JC: This XWF crowd here in Lexington is going CRAZY for Aidan Collins
BG: Hell, JC, I’m going crazy for him! What a performance!
Meanwhile SEB and Dickie are fighting up the crane ladder. Watson is doing his best to cover up, as SEb moves up the ladder throwing a relentless series of strikes and kicks, but - - - SYNthesis from behind!
JC: SYN JUST LEVELED SEB!
BG: That’s the best swinging neckbreaker in the business and the former Uni champ is feeling it!
SEB is out cold, and Syn replaces him heading up the ladder after Watson. Dickie throws a kick at Syn’s head- but the former Revolution champ is nimble. He dodges- lines Dickie up and
JC: WHOA! FORGET THE NECKBREAKER! THAT WAS ONE OF THE MOST IMPRESSIVE SUPERKICKS I’VE EVER SEEN!
BG: OH AND DICKIE IS FALLING!!!!
The fans scream as Dickie collapses from off the crane, and over the press box into the stands. He’s out of the match!!
JC: Syn just took one of the best competitors in this match out of this match!!
BG: But he better look out from behind!
Collins is headed for the ladder- but HE’S MET BY SCOOPS!!! An inverted atomic drop to Blizzard. His face twists in agony as he nads are busted against Scoops’ knee. Scoops takes advantage, a headbutt to Collins, Scooping him up and - JC KEETON!
He tackles the two of them down to the side, and he and Collins are rolling down the roof, punching one another in the face. They roll near the ledge just before stopping. Collins mounts Keeton nd starts bashing him in the face- but Keeton flips him over, getting some licks of his own in - - -SCOOPS MCGEE FROM BEHIND!
A kick to the lower back of Keeton!
Meanwhile, SEB is heading up the ladder again, going after Syn who's NEARLY REACHED THE TOP OF THE CRANE!
BG: About a 5 foot leap, over 100 feet in the air! That’s all that separates Syn from reaching a 24/7 briefcase!
JC: That and the former two time Universal Champion!
Syn was about to jump, but SEB got too close, the two men are now exchanging blows on top of the crane as the crowd goes wild in anticipation for something BIG! A snap suplex down the ladder, and Syn’s back thrashes against the metal steps.
Down below, Keeton is getting walloped over the back with forearm smash after forearm smash from Scoops- BUT A QUICK SPEAR OUT OF NOWHERE FROM KEETON!
Scoops is wrecked by Keeton’s trademark move. JC gets a loud applause from his hometown crowd, but
JC: COLLINS FROM BEHIND! SLEEPER HOLD!
BG: He’s calls this the Black Out Days! Something I know a thing or two about!
Collins locks in the sleeper on Keeton, swinging him, throttling him, back and forth! Keeton squirms and struggles, but Blizzard just thrashes him hard in the submission hold, cutting off all oxygen to the brain.
JC: Keeton… KEETON IS OUT!
BG: Choked out unconscious in Blizzards arms and- - - LOOK OUT!
Blizzard discards Keeton, and he falls from the press box! Collins catches his breath, and looks up to the crane, where he spots King now chasing up after SEB. Collins steps over Scoops and follows up after them.
King goes after SEB and now the two of them are near the top of the crane fighting… that 24/7 case dangling down just feet away. King leaps over the downed Syn and flies in at SEB with a beautiful series of boxing combos. SEB is fighting back, but King’s boxing prowess is on full display here! He’s bobbing and weaving, dodging every attack SEB throws his way. A superkick from SEB, is ducked under, King spins through ROYAL VERDICT TO SEB!!!!! One half of the tag team champions is laid out by the other half of the tag team champions! Seb falls back and slumps over the rail - - -NEARLY FALLING OFF!!!!!
BUT KING HAS OTHER PLANS!
He grapples SEB and goes for - - -CHOP BLOCK TO THE BACK OF THE KNEE FROM SYN!
King drops SEB and he falls!
BG: OH MY GOD THERE GOES SEB!!!!
JC: IT'S A MIRACLE!!!!
BG: HOLY MOTHER!
SEB somehow holds onto the railing, being jarred into enough consciousness to prevent himself from falling to the stadium!. He’s suspended, dangling from the crane ladder… no press box under his feet!
Syn has mounted King’s back, trying to lock in a modified version of SYNtheory, but King is doing everything he can to fight him off. Luckily, from behind, here comes Collins. He jumps and lands right in Syn’s back with a falling knee. Quickly he turns Syn over and punches him in the face, but King is up, turns and punches down at Collins who almost tumbles all the way down the steps.
Meanwhile, SEB is desperately trying to pull himself back up onto the ladder, but he's not able to. Feeling his hands starting to slip, he grimaces and starts to shimmy back down the crane. He makes it back near the base, where it’s just a few feet above the press box roof. He leaps down and catches his breath, and has to sit down for a moment, having taken some serious damage and expended a ton of energy not falling to his demise just then.
BUT SCOOPS! He’s giving SEB no time!
A BIG RUNNING ELBOW!!!!!
IS DODGED!
SEB GOT OUT OF THE WAY JUST INTIME AND SCOOPS’ ELBOW SMASHES DIRECTLY INTO THE METAL STRUCTURE OF THE CRANE BASE.
SEB scrambles back up to his feet, runs behind Scoops, and tries to lock around his waist for a German suplex!
But Scoops is throwing elbows behind him, several miss, but one connects perfectly with SEB’s nose and it begins gushing blood!
SEB falls back, holding his face, and Scoops turns toward him nodding his head, ready to put him away.
A top the crane ladder… ROYAL VERDICT! The spinning punch nails Collins in the jaw, and this time he tumbles all the way down the ladder, hurting himself badly in the process. King turns and looks out the briefcase. He’s just a few feet from the top of the crane. He takes those steps with caution, and looks out at the stadium. 100-thousand-ish fans all screaming, and roaring with applause.
King gulps and leaps - - -NO
Syn grabs the ankle just before King can jump.
Back below, SEB is trying to gather himself, giving his eyes time to stop watering after that stiff elbow to the nose. He moves further and further away from the crane, all the way to the opposite end of the press box. But Scoops is closing in– he lifts SEB up for the scoop slam piledriver!!!!
BUT SEB GETS BEHIND HIS BACK AGAIN - - - EMPIRE KICK!!!!!
Scoops falls from the press box, and he’s out of the match!
JC: There goes Scoops McGee!
BG: He really hung in there, old Scoops!
JC: This match is coming down to the wire partner- - -AND LOOK UP THERE!
King turns and boots Syn in the face, sending him falling back….
King scrambles back to the very tip top of the crane and looks down on the briefcase again - - -
HE LEAPS AND GRABS ONTO THE CRANE CORD
But the momentum of his landing has the cord swinging around wildly. First it swings plum out over the stadium, then starts wrapping back around, circling back to the press box. The audience gasps as the cord swings back and thrashes against the bottom of the crane. Isaiah is battered.
It swings out, and then back again, and Isaiah smashes into the side of the crane again. After the third time, King is forced to let go of the cord before he slips. He grabs onto the bottom of the structure, and holds on for dear life, some twenty or so feet above the press box roof.
Meanwhile SEB is just getting to his feet, and sees King in peril. He starts limping over to the crane himself… but he may be too late. Syn is making his way to the top… BUT ISAIAH! He’s doing the opposite of SEB, he’s battling through all the pain and climbing back up to the top from under the structure. Just as Syn reaches the top, King is there pulling himself back up ONLY TO EAT A SYNTHESIS!!!!!
The swinging neckbreaker comes out of nowhere and
JC: OH NO! LOOK OUT!
Syn lifts King and throws him from the top of the crane, and off of the press box into the stadium!!!
Syn falls to his knees, absolutely exhausted. He tries to stand, but his legs are shaky and he falls to his knees, sweat trickling down his face.
JC: This has been an absolute war, Brody. These men have given everything they have to try and win that briefcase.
BG: Of course they have, Jackie. These men know just as well as we do what that case means. It means having the power to rewrite the history books in XWF. Whoever walk away from this match the winner, is gonna’ do just that!
JC: Think of the awesome competitors who are already virtually eliminated from this contest. Two universal champions, a world class wrestling legend like Watson, a hometown stud like Keeton, and the veteran’s veteran in Scoops. We are down to the final three, and right now it looks like anyone’s game!
SEB turns the corner at the base of the crane structure to head up the steps
ICEPICK
ICEPICK
ICEPICK!!!!!
Blizzard only hit the spear once, but it felt like he hit it three times, as SEB is literally speared out of his boots!!!
Collins is slow to get to his feet too, but looks up the ladder to see Syn who is starting to steady himself. Blizzard darts up the ladder, grabbing the sides and rocking it on the way up to knock Syn off balance. IT WORKS!
Syn is about to tumble over as Collins reaches the top and - - - SYNTHESIS TO COLLINS!!!!!
JC: Oh my goodness, Brody? How did Syn pull that off??!!
BG: Matthias Syn has been waiting for this moment for over a year now. He’s finally in prime position to carve out his place among the top of the XWF!
JC: As if he hasn’t done that already??? What an incredible performance here tonight!
Syn looks out at the briefcase. AND LEAPS!
He lands directly on the briefcase, but that thing is secured tightly to it’s hook. He begins swinging wildly on the cord, same as King did. He swings toward the crane structure, but Syn catches himself with his legs, and even though it hurts him badly, he pushes off with his legs and swings back around to the other side. He’s trying to pull at the latch- - - BUT HIS HAND SLIPS!
JC: Syn is dangling from the briefcase with one arm!
BG: And he’s about to collide with the crane!
SMACK!
Syn isn’t able to stop himself with his lges this time, he thrashes violently against the structure…. AND WHAT’S THIS!!!!????
JC: Collins has made it back to the top of the crane, and he’s got a hold of the cord!
BG: He’s trying to shake Syn off there!
AND IT WORKS!
SYN FALLS FROM THE BRIEFCASE!
HE SMACKS AGAINST THE EDGE OF THE PRESS BOX AND FALLS OFF INTO THE STADIUM!
Collins eyes are wide, looking down at the carnage and catching his breath.
Slowly, he gets to his feet… BUT SEB IS RUNNING UP THE LADDER NOW!!!!
The force of SEB flying up the steps is knocking Collins off balance.
EMPIRE KICK!!!!!!!!
IS DODGED!
Collins threw himself straight down, causing Seb to fly over him, missing the kick and
JC: SEB NEARLY THREW HIMSELF OFF THE TOP OF THE CRANE THERE!
BG: HE’S JUST BARELY STANDING AT THE VERY TOP! THIS IS A BAD SPOT!
Seb is a toeslip away from falling off the crane, he tries to brace himself on the handrail of the ladder steps, but his hand slips. HE looks out at the cord… and- - -
ICEPICK!!!!!!
Collins charges at SEB and spears them both off the top of the crane
JC: HOLY SHIT!!!!
AND SOMEHOW THEY BOTH GRAB ONTO THE BRIEFCASE ON THE WAY DOWN!
The cord whips more violently than it has all night. The two of them swing well out over the crowd and start whipping back to the crane and one of them trashes against the crane structure with brutal impact…
IT’S COLLINS!
HE LOSES HIS GRIP ON THE CORD AND FALLS OFF OF THE STRUCTURE!!
SEB’s eyes flicker open, just barely conscious. He muscles up and unlatches the briefcase!
WINNER of a 24/7 XWF Briefcase - SEBASTIAN EVERETT-BRYCE
SEB holds on dearly with one arm on the cord, pulling with all of his might, as the briefcase dangles in his other arm. Suddenly the crane comes to life and starts rotating SEB over to safety, where he can fall from just a few feet above the press box.
JC: What an incredible contest, Brody!
BG: Truly, this was anyone’s match. Blizzard was so close to pulling his off, but you know it’s hard to bet against the Empire.
JC: All 8 competitors put up one helluva fight, but in the end we are looking Sebastian Everett-Bryce, the new Mr. 24/7!
BG: Now the question is who, where, when, and what title do we think SEB is going after?
JC: Well, he’s still half of the tag team champions… my guess? SEB is ready to remind the XWF that he is the empire!
We close on a shot of SEB lifting the briefcase high in the air at top of Kroger Field in Commonwealth Stadium. This crowd in Kentucky is roaring in approval at the battle they’ve just witnessed.
JC: Well, Brody… we’ve gone through a lot so far tonight, but our best is yet to come.
BG: I don’t think you could have higher stakes than this if you tried.
The lights go dark!
Spotlights flock to the entrance ramp! A collection of suited individuals sit together near the walkway, instruments in hand! The ring announcer takes to the mic…
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome… the Lexington Philharmonic!”
The fans pop as the band comes together into a rousing performance…
…OF ODE TO JOY!
The stadium spotlights rush up toward the ceiling as Dolly Waters appears under the XTron. She 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, raising a single fist into the air.
JC: It’s do or die tonight for Dolly Waters. She’s got her one chance to win the big one here tonight, but it’s her career that’ll be hanging in the balance if she loses!
BG: Everyone loves a good underdog story, but Dolly hasn’t been able to seal the deal for a while now for a reason. And our champ is as dominant as they’ve come…
Bullet With a Point begins to blare over the loudspeakers as CHARLIE NICKELS makes his way out from the back. The Universal Championship is right over his shoulder as he flashes a shit-eating grin at the audience members, tapping the gold for all to take notice. Behind him, Peter Principle, Big Preesh, and “Big Puddin’” Herschel Kiss all come out behind him.
BG: There he is, Jack. Charlie Nickles, the Corporate Champ. He’s the favorite to take home the gold tonight, and for good reason. I don’t think he could even be stopped.
JC: If there’s a will, there’s a way. But I think the way might come down to whether or not Peter Principle will allow it to happen…
BG: Now, why would you ask such an incriminating question about our fair and impartial General Manager?
JC: Gee, I wonder why…
Nickels slides into the ring, raising the Universal Championship up high as he glares at Dolly. The referee takes the belt and makes sure both competitors can see it as he raises it up high, before calling for the match to start!
A stare of a thousand miles crosses the ring as Dolly Waters and Charlie Nickles look into each other’s souls. The fans come alive, their chants and cheers raucous as they echo across the entire stadium.
BG: Well, I guess the fans aren’t wasting any time picking a favorite here… go figure.
JC: I don’t think anyone can blame them, Brody. Two of the greatest performers of our generation have taken to the ring, and the stakes cannot be any higher. Title versus career, corporate favoritism versus the will of the underdog! Who is going to be able to finish their leap of faith tonight?!
The two are slow to move, but finally begin circling around the ring. As they come to the middle of the ring, the two look to lock up-
OH! But Charlie Nickles slips underneath Dolly’s arms and slips behind her! Dolly turns around to see Charlie with a shit-eating grin on his face, coming to the turnbuckle and resting there idly while wagging his finger at her!
JC: Charlie playing mind games early on, Dolly not looking too amused by this.
BG: That’s why he’s the champ though, Jack! Dolly’s gotta get used to it fast, or Charlie’s gonna just worm his way inside of her brain!
Dolly frowns deeply, beckoning Charlie towards the middle of the ring. Charlie groans and rolls his eyes with an exaggerated look on his face, but does as told as he marches forward once again.
In comes the collar-and-elbow tie-up once again- NO! Charlie ducks underneath again, smug and arrogant as Dolly turns around- HUGE calf kick! The noise echoes around the arena as Charlie staggers back!
Dolly follows it up with a right hand! And another! And anothe-
Charlie shoves Dolly back with a thumb right in her eye as he does so! Dolly stumbles back, mumbling under her breath, before charging back in with a running dropkick to the leg! Charlie has to move himself across, narrowly avoiding danger as he does so!
JC: Dolly trying to chop down the redwood, but the champion’s made of strong stuff here tonight.
BG: If Dolly wants to last in this match, she’s going to have to take plenty of risks. That size difference isn’t going to be going away any time soon.
As Dolly gets back to her feet, Charlie is right on top of her. A throat thrust sends her right back to the corner, and Charlie presses his weight against Dolly with a forearm right to the throat! The fans boo loudly as Charlie begins to stretch Dolly’s body back uncomfortably back across the top turnbuckle, and all the while he’s talking smack to her!
JC: Blatant choke right there! The referee needs to break this up!
BG: Not in No Holds Barred, he doesn’t! Charlie’s just using everything to his advantage, as he damn well should!
The referee casually observes the choke, not in any particular hurry to put a stop to it. Dolly grits her teeth, gasping for air before bringing up a harsh knee right to Charlie’s gut! That staggers the big man, and another one sends him back enough for the hold to be broken and for Dolly to get some fresh air!
BUT CHARLIE RUSHES BACK WITH A RUNNING SHOULDER TACKLE INTO THE CORNER! Dolly collapses into the corner again with her eyes dazed as Peter Principle is outside, clapping enthusiastically!
Charlie then takes Dolly by the wrist- IRISH WHIP INTO THE OTHER CORNER! Dolly lands hard as Charlie rushes in- HUGE big boot clocks Dolly right on the chin as she slumps out of the corner onto all fours!
JC: Charlie’s wasting no time making an example out of Dolly. She’s looking like a piece of meat out there, Brody, and it’s hard to watch.
BG: He’s the maniac with gold in his veins and the Devil on his shoulder, Jack. And right now, the Devil is telling him to do some very, very bad things…
Right on tune, Peter Principle is directing traffic on the outside, slapping his palms on the apron and telling Charlie to turn up on this match!
Charlie smirks as he proceeds to roll outside, looking underneath the ring to pull out a steel chair!
JC: Oh no.
BG: Oh yeah! We’re gonna see what the Nickleman can do in his element!
Charlie takes his time rolling into the ring, seeing Dolly trying to pull herself back up, only for Charlie to instead idly boot her along the side of her head. Dolly falls to the mat, holding herself as Charlie chuckles under his breath. He moves to the corner, placing the chair in between the ropes into the corner and making sure it’s propped up.
Charlie picks up Dolly, tongue lulling out of his mouth excitedly as he’s got her lined up! Irish Whip into the turnbuckle-
COUNTER! DOLLY SENDS CHARLIE INTO THE CHAIR INSTEAD AS HIS STERNUM CRASHES INTO THE STEEL! CHARLIE WHEEZES IN PAIN AS DOLLY SPRINGS BACK UP TO HER FEET AND SEES HER CHANCE!
RUNNING DROPKICK SENDS CHARLIE INTO THE CHAIR AGAIN AND CRUSHES HIM!
JC: The fans going crazy here as Dolly tries to turn this around!
BG: Plenty of match to go here though, Jack!
Dolly nods, taking a deep breath as she drags Charlie into the center of the ring and begins to mount him! Rights and lefts rain down as she’s targeting the forehead and temples!
BG: Vicious side of her coming out there, though…
JC: For Dolly, this isn’t about winning pretty. Her career in the XWF is on the line, Brody. This is survival instincts going into overdrive for her.
Charlie brings a leg up, looking to rocket Dolly up and over him in a sort of monkey flip, but Dolly catches herself and turns it into a cartwheel to land on her feet! The fans pop for the acrobatic display as Charlie brings himself back to his feet, but Dolly is right there!
CRACK! In comes a loud kick to the knee as Charlie grits his teeth! And another! And now a stomp to the ankle!
JC: There she goes again Brody, chopping down that tree! Nothing’s going to stop her!
BG: Not if the champ has something to say about that!
One more leg kick sends Charlie to one knee, and Dolly sees her chance! She runs off the ropes to jump right back to Charlie!
ODE TO JOY-
CHARLIE RUSHES RIGHT BACK TO HIS FEET TO CUT DOLLY OFF WITH AN ELBOW TO THE SKULL!
JC: That one rocked her!
BG: Think she got a concussion? Watch the replay and you could just see her head snap back there!
Dolly is laid out on the ground as Charlie exhales loudly, shaking his head as he rolls out of the ring once more. He goes underneath the ring, only to pull out more toys! A kendo stick and a trash can both go into the ring this time, landing right in the middle as Charlie slides right back in to get into the action.
Charlie takes the lid of the trash can, testing the weight of it as he goes to strike Dolly…
DOLLY GRABS THE KENDO STICK! SHOT RIGHT TO THE TARGETED LEG BRINGS CHARLIE DOWN YET AGAIN!
The fans come alive as Dolly forces herself back onto her feet! She’s dizzy, she’s stunned, but she’s still trying to fight!
CRACK!
Across his back!
CRACK!
Over the shoulder!
CRACK!
Right on the ribcage!
Dolly goes for a fifth strike, but Charlie catches the kendo stick in midair! A beat lingers between the two before he rips the kendo stick right out of Dolly’s grasp! He then jerks the butt of the stick back into her stomach, ripping the air out of Dolly’s lungs as she’s forced to double over!
Charlie drags himself back onto his feet… AND BREAKS THE KENDO STICK IN HALF OVER HER SPINE WITH A SWING!
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!
BG: Holy shit-
Charlie isn’t stopping though as Dolly is screaming out on all fours! He quickly rips her back up as he aims towards the trash can…
STEUBENVILLE SCREWDRIVER-!
DOLLY SLIPS OUT FROM BEHIND! SHE STAGGERS BACK AS CHARLIE LOOKS TO CONTINUE THE ASSAULT-
ONLY FOR DOLLY TO GRAB THE TRASH CAN LID AND CRACK IT RIGHT OVER CHARLIE’S SKULL!
JC: Now it looks like both of them are about to have concussions!
DOLLY DOESN’T HESITATE THIS TIME! SHE RUNS OFF THE ROPES-
ODE TO JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY! CHARLIE FALLS BACK ONTO THE TRASH CAN AS IT COLLAPSES UNDER HIS WEIGHT! DOLLY COVERS CHARLIE AS THE REFEREE SLIDES INTO POSITION!
Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooone…
Twooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…
KICKOUT!
JC: Fast move… slow count. Dolly could have had that won.
BG: That looked normal to me, Jack.
JC: I’m sure you think so.
Dolly wipes the sweat off of her face, trying to collect herself as she looks over the downed, prone Charlie. She looks to the top rope, nodding as she scales the ropes, looking to try and go for the win…
BUT BEFORE DOLLY CAN HIT THE SERENITY FALL, BIG PREESH IS THERE ON THE APRON TO PULL THE ROPE AND CROTCH DOLLY! DOLLY CRIES OUT IN PAIN AS THE REFEREE DOES NOTHING BUT WATCHES THE DISPLAY!
BG: Phew! That sure was a close one, wasn’t it, Jack?
JC: Oh, I bet Charlie is just counting his lucky stars, especially now that Peter Principle’s goons are here to provide backup and turn this into a three-on-one assault!
BG: Dolly knew what she was signing up for, Jack! You gotta take the lumps as they come here!
And Herschel Kiss comes up onto the apron beside Dolly, there to throw her right off the top rope and send her crashing to the mat, right on top of the trash can lid she had used earlier! Boos rain down like Hell as Peter Principle applauds for his henchmen!
Charlie laughs at the display as he takes his time rolling over, crawling over towards Dolly. He brings himself on top of her, posing with a cocky, one-armed cover as the ref counts again.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
KICKOUT!
JC: FAST COUNT NOW! What’s going on here?!
BG: Still perfectly normal to me…
Charlie looks at the referee, shouting at him about how he counts too slow! The referee holds his hands up, nodding and deeply apologizing for the display as Charlie huffed. He grabs Dolly up by the hair, sending her right back into the corner with a sharp uppercut!
Dolly is barely standing, having to hold onto the ropes for support, but Charlie isn’t letting up his assault as he yanks her out to give a big SIDEWALK SLAM-
Dolly’s punching! Squirming! Trying to fight out of it!
BUT CHARLIE DROPS HER DOWN ANYWAY!
Charlie sits, exhaling loudly and admiring his handiwork with a wide grin on his face. The boos continue to rain down as Dolly acts on instinct, absentmindedly trying to roll out of the ring. She hits the mat hard on the outside, landing right by the feet of Big Preesh and Herschel Kiss.
JC: Dolly landed right into the belly of the beast…
BG: And she’s their prey!
Hard boots come crashing down right onto Dolly’s back as she squirms from the impact! Principle makes his voice heard, demanding them to continue the assault before they finally let up! They bring her right onto their feet, and roll her right into the ring where Charlie Nickles is waiting for her!
Charlie leans over with a manic grin on his face, sizing up Dolly as he’s nodding. He drags her up by the hair once more, slowly hooking her arms in as he looks at the crowd!
DEVIL!
HOOK!
COUNTER SCHOOL-BOY ROLL-UP!
DOLLY WITH THE PIN! THE FANS ROAR AS THE REF COUNTS!
Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooone…
Twooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…
KICKOUT!
JC: Dolly nearly had that again! Charlie knows he’s got the ref right in his pocket at this rate!
BG: Jack, you’re speaking a lot of words, but I’m not sure you know what they really mean here.
Dolly slaps the mat in frustration as she tries to bring herself right back onto her feet, but Charlie is the first one to his feet! He walks towards Dolly, but Dolly aims a kick up at Charlie’s gut!
CHARLIE CATCHES IT THOUGH! HE USES IT TO PULL DOLLY UP CLOSE BEFORE BRINGING HER BACK TO HER FEET!
PLACES HER HEAD BETWEEN HIS LEGS!
HOISTS HER UP!
PILEDRIVER…
REVERSE HURRICANRANA! CHARLIE GETS SENT OUT OF THE RING!
JC: Dolly continuing to fight back here with everything she’s got!
BG: Is it going to be enough, though?
Principle demands Preesh and Kiss help tend to the champ, and they quickly move in. Unlike how they handled Dolly, however, they’re on their knees, checking in with Charlie and giving him some light slaps on the cheek to help rouse him back to his senses.
Charlie nods to them as they help pull him up, the pair looking to bring him back into the ring…
BUT DOLLY DIVES OUT WITH A SUICIDE DIVE! SHE TAKES OUT ALL THREE MEN AT ONCE AS THE FANS GO CRAZY!
JC: DOLLY WATERS SACRIFICING LIFE AND LIMB! IF HER CAREER IS GONE THEN SHE HAS NO LIFE! SHE’S DOING EVERYTHING SHE CAN HERE TONIGHT!
BG: TOTALLY uncalled for though to attack Kiss and Preesh on the outside! They’re just trying to make sure this match can go on!
JC: Oh, give me a break, Brody!
Dolly has to use the metal guard rail to pull herself to her feet! Principle is fuming at the sight of Dolly getting one up in the middle of this match, and he looks like he’s about to rush forward! A harsh glare by Dolly quickly shuts up Principle though, forcing him to back off…
BUT CHARLIE IS RIGHT BACK ONTO HIS FEET! He drives his shoulder into Dolly’s gut and sends her crashing back into the guard rail as it quakes and shudders beneath their combined weight! The air goes rushing out of Dolly’s lungs yet again!
BG: And that’s why Dolly isn’t gonna win. For all her smarts in the ring, Jack, she can’t get herself out of the mind games. That’s where Charlie excels at- we know this!
JC: Maybe so, but they’re all having trouble accounting for Dolly’s never-say-die attitude!
Dolly tries to weakly throw some right hands back at Charlie, but Charlie stifles the attempt with another hard uppercut! Dolly staggers away as Charlie looks to a nearby fan and rips their drink out of their hand!
CHARLIE PULLS DOLLY BACK BY THE HAIR TO DUNK THEM IN SPRITE! She gets absolutely soaked as the fans continue to boo loudly!
JC: Now how can you defend that?
BG: Well… you know… anything goes!
Dolly is stunned and dazed, allowing Charlie to pull Dolly back around and hoist her up high-
STEUBENVILLE SCREWDRIVER RIGHT ON THE OUTSIDE! DOLLY SPASMS FROM THE IMPACT AS HER EYES STARE RIGHT UP AT THE CEILING! PRINCIPLE CLAPS LOUDLY FOR CHARLIE ALL THE MEANWHILE!
BG: And Charlie’s moving in for the kill here!
JC: He can’t pin Dolly on the outside of the ring, but he can sure make her life a living hell!
Charlie smirks, throwing Dolly right back into the ring. He grabs the rest of the Sprite, downing the rest and taking a breather as Principle walks over to clap him on the shoulder with pride, whispering in his ear.
Nickels nods, reaching underneath the ring and pulling out a TABLE THIS TIME! He puts it right into the ring, following after Dolly as he hoists it up high - AND SMASHES IT RIGHT INTO HER GUT!
DOLLY SCREAMS AS CHARLIE CONTINUES BASHING THE TABLE WITH NO END IN SIGHT! BLOOD STARTS TO POOL IN HER MOUTH AS CHARLIE FINALLY RELENTS, DRAGGING THE TABLE OFF OF HER AND ADMIRING HIS HANDIWORK ONCE AGAIN!
JC: Imagine the damage… the internal injuries. Dolly’s going to have trouble even breathing after all that. This isn’t a match, Brody, it’s a hit job.
BG: Sure looks like a match to me still, Jack. Dolly could always come back and win, you never know!
JC: Don’t try and make light of this. This is sickening.
Charlie sets the table up right before the corner turnbuckle, and proceeds to get right to work, hammering Dolly in the gut with a big boot yet again before forcing her up onto her feet. He shoves her right into the corner, giving her some strong shoulder thrusts to the gut as Dolly weakly coughs up more blood as a result.
But then… Charlie hoists Dolly up onto the top rope.
JC: You can just tell the evil intentions Charlie has in mind here.
BG: Good! Put her away!
Charlie chases up on the top rope after Dolly, and he looks to hook in the arms to try and put her away! A manic grin is on his face as he looks back towards the table!
BUT DOLLY AVOIDS THE DEVIL HOOK DROP AGAIN BY SHOVING CHARLIE BACK!
AND HE FALLS THROUGH THE TABLE! THE FANS POP LIKE CRAZY!
JC: DOLLY WATERS WILL NOT DIE! IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT HAPPENS!
BG: No! NO! Charlie, you gotta get up! GET UP!
Dolly takes a minute to take a deep breath, and brings herself right back up onto the top rope! She looks down at Charlie and takes a deep breath…
SERENITY FALL!
BUT HERSCHEL KISS PULLS CHARLIE OUT OF THE RING AS DOLLY IS FALLING!
DOLLY LANDS RIGHT ONTO THE WRECKAGE OF THE TABLE!
AND NOW BOTH HOSSES ARE IN THE RING FOR THE TWO-ON-ONE BEATDOWN! BOOTS AND FISTS ARE FLYING! CHARLIE COMES BACK INTO THE RING, GROGGY, BUT HE PICKS UP DOLLY’S LEGS
AND
LOCKS
IN
A
SHARPSHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTER!
BG: And if Dolly knows what’s good for her, she’s going to tap out right here!
THE HOLD IS EXPERTLY APPLIED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING! DOLLY IS STREAMING BLOOD OUT OF HER MOUTH, BUT SHE’S REFUSING TO GIVE IN! SHE’S LOOKING TO CLAW HER WAY TOWARDS THE ROPES, AND-
DING! DING! DING!
JC: What the-
DING! DING! DING! DING!
The fans in attendance look to see PETER PRINCIPLE RINGING THE BELL! HE’S TRYING TO DECLARE CHARLIE THE WINNER!
JC: What is this?! Dolly hasn’t submitted!
BG: Principle is trying to look out for his employee! He’s thinking of Dolly’s health and how being in that Sharpshooter must feel!
JC: That’s a bunch of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it, Brody! This is a screwjob, plain and simple!
Charlie is shouting at Dolly to give up as he’s still got the Sharpshooter locked in! Dolly is crying out in pain and agony, but she looks at Peter Principle and FLIPS HIM OFF!
THE FANS CHEER FOR DOLLY IN HER MOMENT OF DEFIANCE!
BUT BIG PREESH STOMPS DOWN ON DOLLY’S HAND REPEATEDLY, BOUNCING IT OFF THE MAT AGAIN AND AGAIN AS IT LOOKS LIKE SHE’S TAPPING OUT AS A RESULT OF IT!
AND THAT’S ENOUGH FOR THE REFEREE TO CALL FOR A STOP TO THE MATCH, AS-
JC: Dolly continuing to fight back here with everything she’s got!
BG: Is it going to be enough, though?
Principle demands Preesh and Kiss help tend to the champ, and they quickly move in. Unlike how they handled Dolly, however, they’re on their knees, checking in with Charlie and giving him some light slaps on the cheek to help rouse him back to his senses.
Charlie nods to them as they help pull him up, the pair looking to bring him back into the ring…
BUT DOLLY DIVES OUT WITH A SUICIDE DIVE! SHE TAKES OUT ALL THREE MEN AT ONCE AS THE FANS GO CRAZY!
JC: DOLLY WATERS SACRIFICING LIFE AND LIMB! IF HER CAREER IS GONE THEN SHE HAS NO LIFE! SHE’S DOING EVERYTHING SHE CAN HERE TONIGHT!
BG: TOTALLY uncalled for though to attack Kiss and Preesh on the outside! They’re just trying to make sure this match can go on!
JC: Oh, give me a break, Brody!
Dolly has to use the metal guard rail to pull herself to her feet! Principle is fuming at the sight of Dolly getting one up in the middle of this match, and he looks like he’s about to rush forward! A harsh glare by Dolly quickly shuts up Principle though, forcing him to back off…
BUT CHARLIE IS RIGHT BACK ONTO HIS FEET! He drives his shoulder into Dolly’s gut and sends her crashing back into the guard rail as it quakes and shudders beneath their combined weight! The air goes rushing out of Dolly’s lungs yet again!
BG: And that’s why Dolly isn’t gonna win. For all her smarts in the ring, Jack, she can’t get herself out of the mind games. That’s where Charlie excels at- we know this!
JC: Maybe so, but they’re all having trouble accounting for Dolly’s never-say-die attitude!
Dolly tries to weakly throw some right hands back at Charlie, but Charlie stifles the attempt with another hard uppercut! Dolly staggers away as Charlie looks to a nearby fan and rips their drink out of their hand!
CHARLIE PULLS DOLLY BACK BY THE HAIR TO DUNK THEM IN SPRITE! She gets absolutely soaked as the fans continue to boo loudly!
JC: Now how can you defend that?
BG: Well… you know… anything goes!
Dolly is stunned and dazed, allowing Charlie to pull Dolly back around and hoist her up high-
STEUBENVILLE SCREWDRIVER RIGHT ON THE OUTSIDE! DOLLY SPASMS FROM THE IMPACT AS HER EYES STARE RIGHT UP AT THE CEILING! PRINCIPLE CLAPS LOUDLY FOR CHARLIE ALL THE MEANWHILE!
BG: And Charlie’s moving in for the kill here!
JC: He can’t pin Dolly on the outside of the ring, but he can sure make her life a living hell!
Charlie smirks, throwing Dolly right back into the ring. He grabs the rest of the Sprite, downing the rest and taking a breather as Principle walks over to clap him on the shoulder with pride, whispering in his ear.
Nickels nods, reaching underneath the ring and pulling out a TABLE THIS TIME! He puts it right into the ring, following after Dolly as he hoists it up high - AND SMASHES IT RIGHT INTO HER GUT!
DOLLY SCREAMS AS CHARLIE CONTINUES BASHING THE TABLE WITH NO END IN SIGHT! BLOOD STARTS TO POOL IN HER MOUTH AS CHARLIE FINALLY RELENTS, DRAGGING THE TABLE OFF OF HER AND ADMIRING HIS HANDIWORK ONCE AGAIN!
JC: Imagine the damage… the internal injuries. Dolly’s going to have trouble even breathing after all that. This isn’t a match, Brody, it’s a hit job.
BG: Sure looks like a match to me still, Jack. Dolly could always come back and win, you never know!
JC: Don’t try and make light of this. This is sickening.
Charlie sets the table up right before the corner turnbuckle, and proceeds to get right to work, hammering Dolly in the gut with a big boot yet again before forcing her up onto her feet. He shoves her right into the corner, giving her some strong shoulder thrusts to the gut as Dolly weakly coughs up more blood as a result.
But then… Charlie hoists Dolly up onto the top rope.
JC: You can just tell the evil intentions Charlie has in mind here.
BG: Good! Put her away!
Charlie chases up on the top rope after Dolly, and he looks to hook in the arms to try and put her away! A manic grin is on his face as he looks back towards the table!
BUT DOLLY AVOIDS THE DEVIL HOOK DROP AGAIN BY SHOVING CHARLIE BACK!
AND HE FALLS THROUGH THE TABLE! THE FANS POP LIKE CRAZY!
JC: DOLLY WATERS WILL NOT DIE! IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT HAPPENS!
BG: No! NO! Charlie, you gotta get up! GET UP!
Dolly takes a minute to take a deep breath, and brings herself right back up onto the top rope! She looks down at Charlie and takes a deep breath…
SERENITY FALL!
BUT HERSCHEL KISS PULLS CHARLIE OUT OF THE RING AS DOLLY IS FALLING!
DOLLY LANDS RIGHT ONTO THE WRECKAGE OF THE TABLE!
AND NOW BOTH HOSSES ARE IN THE RING FOR THE TWO-ON-ONE BEATDOWN! BOOTS AND FISTS ARE FLYING! CHARLIE COMES BACK INTO THE RING, GROGGY, BUT HE PICKS UP DOLLY’S LEGS
AND
LOCKS
IN
A
SHARPSHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTER!
BG: And if Dolly knows what’s good for her, she’s going to tap out right here!
THE HOLD IS EXPERTLY APPLIED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING! DOLLY IS STREAMING BLOOD OUT OF HER MOUTH, BUT SHE’S REFUSING TO GIVE IN! SHE’S LOOKING TO CLAW HER WAY TOWARDS THE ROPES, AND-
DING! DING! DING!
JC: What the-
DING! DING! DING! DING!
The fans in attendance look to see PETER PRINCIPLE RINGING THE BELL! HE’S TRYING TO DECLARE CHARLIE THE WINNER!
JC: What is this?! Dolly hasn’t submitted!
BG: Principle is trying to look out for his employee! He’s thinking of Dolly’s health and how being in that Sharpshooter must feel!
JC: That’s a bunch of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it, Brody! This is a screwjob, plain and simple!
Charlie is shouting at Dolly to give up as he’s still got the Sharpshooter locked in! Dolly is crying out in pain and agony, but she looks at Peter Principle and FLIPS HIM OFF!
THE FANS CHEER FOR DOLLY IN HER MOMENT OF DEFIANCE!
BUT BIG PREESH STOMPS DOWN ON DOLLY’S HAND REPEATEDLY, BOUNCING IT OFF THE MAT AGAIN AND AGAIN AS IT LOOKS LIKE SHE’S TAPPING OUT AS A RESULT OF IT!
AND THAT’S ENOUGH FOR THE REFEREE TO CALL FOR A STOP TO THE MATCH, AS-
JC: Wait a minute… that music! Is that him?!
THE FANS COME ABSOLUTELY UNGLUED IN RECOGNITION!
BEFORE HE STROLLS OUT FROM BEHIND THE CURTAIN!
IT IS
NONE
OTHER
THAN
THADDEUS DUKE!
BG: Why the Hell is Duke back?! Why’s he out here?! This match is over! He’s got an invasion to defend again!
JC: Not right now, he doesn’t! It’s time for some order to be restored out here!
A REFEREE IS TRAILING BEHIND DUKE AS THE TWO OF THEM STORM TO THE RING! THE NEW REF SLIDES IN AS DUKE STEPS INTO THE RING!
HE POINTS AT PREESH! AT HERSCHEL! AT THE CROOKED REF! AND AT PETER PRINCIPLE!
AND HE POINTS THEM ALL TO THE BACK TO EJECT THEM!
THE FANS CONTINUE TO CHEER AS PETER PRINCIPLE GOES RED IN THE FACE AND ANGRILY PROTESTS!
BG: He can’t do this! He can’t do this! Peter Principle is an established, beloved General Manager! What right does Thaddeus Duke have to do this?!
Duke marches right towards Principle, and Principle finally realizes the danger headed his way! Nickles is flabbergasted as all the help that came down for this match is finally leaving him! Duke stalks his way up the entrance ramp after Principle and his goons to make sure they stay away!
AND WE ARE DOWN TO A ONE-ON-ONE MATCH! NICKLES CONTINUES TO STARE AT THE GROUP LEAVING
ONLY FOR DOLLY TO GO FOR ANOTHER ROLL-UP PIN!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!
TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
T
H
R
E
KICKOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUT!
JC: Dolly was so close to having that, there! But it’s good to know we’re back to having normal counting speeds!
BG: This is such bullshit, Jack! I still can’t believe it!
JC: Well, you better believe it soon, because this match is continuing!
The two competitors come back onto their feet!
Dolly goes for a roundhouse to the body - caught by Nickles - enzuigiri by Dolly - ducked by Nickles - dragon whip by Nickles - leg control still established - Dolly kicks Nickels off as she KIPS-UP!
DOLLY RUSHES IN FOR A LARIAT - DUCKED BY NICKLES - COMES ON THE WRAP AROUND - NICKLES SCOOPS HER UP FOR ANOTHER SIDEWALK SLAM - DOLLY FLIPS OUT - NICKELS TURNS AROUND FOR ANOTHER HEADBUTT - SIDESTEPPED BY DOLLY AS SHE RUNS IN AGAIN -
JC: HOW DID CHARLIE HAVE THE STRENGTH TO KICK OUT?!
BG: HE’S NOT THE CHAMP FOR NOTHING, JACK!
Dolly looks almost defeated, but she can’t give up now! With the cheers of the fans willing her on, she rouses herself right back to her feet, pulling up Charlie…
WHO RAKES THE EYES AS HE COMES UP!
DOLLY IS STUNNED!
ALLOWING CHARLIE TO HOOK THE ARMS ONE MORE TIME!
DEVIL!
HOOK!
DOLLY STEPS ON CHARLIE’S FOOT!
JC: DESPERATION TACTIC!
BG: THAT ONLY GETS YOU SO FAR!
CHARLIE STAGGERS BACK NOW, WHICH LETS DOLLY TAKE CONTROL FOR ONE MORE TIME!
AS SHE HOISTS CHARLIE UP AGAINST ALL ODDS-
PIKE
COUNTY
PLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNGE!
JC: THAT’S HER DADDY’S MOVE, BRODY!
BG: I KNOW WHAT IT IS! THAT PILEDRIVER MIGHT HAVE BROKEN CHARLIE NICKLES’ NECK!
THE ARENA HAS NEVER BEEN MORE ALIVE THAN THIS MOMENT RIGHT HERE! BUT AS CHARLIE ROLLS OVER, DOLLY KNOWS SHE”S GOT ONE LAST STOP TO PULL OUT!
SHE SCALES THE TOP ROPE
ONE
LAST
TIME
AND
HITS
THE
SUPER
DIVING
ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!
RIGHT ONTO CHARLIE’S HEART! DOLLY HOOKS THE LEG!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!
TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
T
H
R
E
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
WINNER AND NEW UNIVERSAL CHAMPION: DOLLY WATERS!
JC: SHE DID IT! DOLLY WATERS DID IT! SHE SCALED THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN AND WON WHAT EVERYONE SAID SHE COULDN’T WIN! DOLLY WATERS IS STAYING IN THE XWF, AND SHE’LL BE HERE AS YOUR NEW UNIVERSAL CHAMPION!
BG: This is a national day of tragedy, Jack. Charlie Nickles was robbed. ROBBED!
JC: I’m sure Charlie and Principle both are going to have plenty to say come next time, but that’s a problem for later! Right now is a time for celebration for Dolly! And be sure to tune in for what will come next for her, next on WARFARE!
SPECIAL THANKS TO OUR MATCH WRITERS:
The Bashmaster
Charlie Nickles
Peter Principle
Jimmy Stars
Bobby Bourbon
And everyone else who RPed and submitted a segment!
Couple days late on my review, but this card was packed as hell, and I needed a few days just to read through it all and digest it!
First and foremost, huge hats off to DOLLY WATERS! It's about time we gave our top community member the top belt. The RP they dropped on my head is easily the frontrunner for RPOTY right now: it was 10k of relevant story aimed right at my character, accompanied by a huge payoff to the months-long story arc of her faction's union push.
Brilliant storytelling, through and through. I think Dolly's RP honestly should ask us to consider: should we permanently raise the word limit for uni matches? Either way, Dolly's RP definitely raised the standards for the entire main event scene!
But damn, she's got SEB nipping at her heels with a briefcase! A revolution taking power just as the former Emperor comes home and reclaims his 'divine right' to the title, if you will. I think that could be a very interesting dynamic!
Them No Good Bastards keep retaining their Anarchy tag belts by DQ, which I find hilarious and excellent heel work! I'm interested in seeing the story with Scoops/36 play out on Thursday Nights. Scoops and 36 have BOTH ALREADY defeated TNGB, but due to nonsense shenanigans TNGB retained the belts both times! I'm hoping that TNGB's next defense will be a NO DQ tag match, and in a NO DQ situation, I think things could get pretty wild between Scoops/36 and TNGB!
I'm sad to see Lucy's reign as TV champion end! I think she did a tremendous job holding down the TV division, with very consistent defenses and awesome RPs every cycle. But if the TV title is meant to turn people into stars by the time they're done with it, I think Lucy may have accomplished everything she needed to accomplish with the TV belt! I can definitely see Lucy rising up the card and challenging for even bigger belts, despite her setback against the always awesome Sarah Wolf!
Speaking of Black Rainbow, those XWF Tag belts keep playing hot potato back and forth! Not going to lie, I was shocked when Glazkov and Cambric won the belts on Warfare, but after I read their roleplay it all made total sense. I was excited to see their rematch against The Exiles....and now, I'm DEFINITELY excited to see the inevitable trilogy match!
BOOK IT NOW, THAD!
I also have to give a hats off to Thunder Knuckles, who walks out of Leap of Faith as the ONLY double-champion in the XWF. Justin York was an incredibly game opponent, and he came out with some heat this cycle. But I'm not sure there's anyone in the fed right now who's quite as cerebral as The Knuckleman. TK has started to become a real problem on Thursday Nights, and I would LOVE to see TK vs Graves at 1k a piece...but with TK and Graves holding opposite belts on Anarchy, I think Jimmy Stars has a lot of time to EDGE US before giving us what we want!
Speaking of Graves....holy shit, I'm honestly not sure he's beatable. He's a damn machine on Anarchy, and it's no surprise that his dominance extends to pay per views. In order to beat Graves for the Anarchy Championship, I think someone would have to sacrifice their first born...but Charlie already tried that, and it didn't work! So if anyone ever figures out a way to pin Graves....please let a brother know! We've seen dominant champions on Anarchy before, but I think Graves's reign is going to go down as the GOAT Anarchy reign hands down...and that's a #TACTFACT!
BTW, I love ya still Larry: your RPs always put a huge smile on my face.
All in all, this was a tremendous show- and definitely a great prelude to Relentless! Huge thanks to everyone who wrote matches, submitted segments, and roleplayed their asses off!
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