The CU Events Center sits like a glowing block of light against the Boulder evening. A stream of fans keeps flowing toward the entrances—some hustling in small groups with hands jammed in coat pockets, others lingering for photos beneath the arena signage. A vendor near the walkway does brisk business with hot chocolate steaming in paper cups, a few last-minute foam fingers, and a line of people who can’t decide if they’re more excited for the show or for the idea of being inside out of the cold.
Inside, the CU Events Center hums with that familiar pre-show electricity. Decorations have been threaded in without going overboard: garland along railings, a few twinkling strings of lights, and a big SCW banner dressed up with a tongue-in-cheek wreath like the building itself got booked for the night. The camera sweeps past faces painted in team colors, past homemade signs with glitter and sharpie bravado, past fans wearing novelty antlers that bob every time they cheer at something they haven’t even seen yet.
The six-sided ring sits dead center—and standing in the middle of it all is ring announcer Justin Decent, microphone in hand.
Justin: Ladies and gentlemen! SCW faithful! Welcome to Climax Control coming to you live from the CU Events Center in beautiful Boulder, Colorado!
The response hits like a wave!
Justin: Boulder, I’ve gotta ask! Are you ready to make some noise tonight?!
The arena answers with a thunderous YES—boots stomping, hands clapping, that unmistakable, delighted chaos of a crowd that’s been waiting all day to be part of something!
Justin: That’s what I’m talking about! We have a stacked night ahead of us! So if you came to sit politely, you’re in the wrong place!
More cheers—plus a few playful boos from people who absolutely did not come to sit politely!
Justin: And since it is that time of year, and since Boulder’s already in a giving mood, SCW decided to bring out a very special treat to get this party started the right way! Please welcome SCW’s Hostess With the Mostess… Miss Amanda Hugginkiss!
The crowd cheers and applauds as Amanda steps out onto the stage to a bright wash of lights and a full-body reaction from the arena. She stays on the stage like it’s her personal runway, soaking in the noise with a slow turn and an exaggerated hand-to-heart like she’s about to faint from adoration.
Amanda: Ohhh, Boulder! Don’t you do that to me right out of the gate!
She leans forward slightly, hand cupped to her ear, inviting more volume like she’s conducting the crowd with pure attitude.
Amanda: I said, HELLO, Boulder!
The cheers double, and Amanda basks in it, dragging the moment out with a grin that borders on mischievous.
Amanda: Mm-hmm. Yes. That’s the sound I like. That’s the sound of a city that knows quality entertainment when it sees it.
She points into the crowd like she’s spotting old friends.
Amanda: I see the holiday sweaters! I see the Santa hats! I see the signs that absolutely should have been approved by nobody.
She laughs, then glides a step along the stage, eyes narrowing as if she’s zooming in on one specific person near ringside.
Amanda: Oh, hold on. Hold on. You… front row… yes, you with the sign.
She squints theatrically.
Amanda: It says “AMANDA… NOTICE ME.” Honey, I did, and now I’m concerned.
The section erupts in laughter and “OHHH!” reactions. Amanda plants a hand on her hip, letting the fan have it with playful sincerity.
Amanda: I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Look at you! You’re living your truth, you’re hydrated, you’ve got good penmanship… I love this journey for you.
She blows the fan a kiss and immediately pivots, scanning again.
Amanda: And speaking of things I love…
Her gaze catches on someone else at ringside. She pauses, brows lifting like she just saw a dessert menu.
Amanda: Ohhh… hello!
She points delicately, like she’s selecting him from a lineup.
Amanda: Sir. Yes, you. The handsome one. Don’t play shy! This is Boulder, not a monastery.
The crowd whoops. Amanda leans forward, resting her forearms lightly on an invisible ledge, voice dropping into a flirtatious purr that still carries to the cheap seats.
Amanda: Now I’m not saying SCW is responsible for raising the temperature in this arena tonight… but I’m also not saying we’re not.
She gives him a slow, approving nod.
Amanda: If you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna forget I have a job and start writing my phone number on a foam finger.
The arena loses it—cheers, laughter, a few scandalized gasps just for fun. Amanda straightens up, fanning herself like she’s overheated by her own charisma.
Amanda: Whew! Okay! Focus, Amanda. Professional. Classy. Respected member of the…
She pauses, then smirks.
Amanda: …Entertainment community.
She lets the crowd settle just enough to reclaim the moment.
Amanda: Alright, my beautiful people—are you ready to begin this show properly?
A huge roar answers her.
Amanda: Good. Because tradition is tradition, and I am nothing if not a woman of culture.
She spreads her arms wide, as if presenting a grand finale.
Amanda: Which means it is time to begin with a song.
She holds the pose, milking the anticipation as the arena buzzes, waiting for what comes next.
Amanda: Well I was icing up my contour, powder snow across my face,
Candy-cane corset wrapped up tight in just the right wrong place.
Then I heard a sleigh bell jingle and a deep baritone sound,
Someone big and jolly said
Baby, rumor is you’re the best show in town.
He had boots up to his knees and a belt that hugged him snug,
With a twinkle in his eye that said he likes a little tug.
He said “I brought some presents, but you don’t need no more,
You’re already wrapped in trouble from your lashes to the floor.”
Santa Claus is going to town,
With a ho-ho-ho and a hip thrust down.
If you’ve been naughty, don’t you wear a frown,
That just means he’s made a special turnaround.
You can hear those sleigh bells pound,
When his big red bag starts bouncin’ around.
You’d better work that Christmas gown,
‘Cause Santa Claus is going to town.
He said “I checked my little notebook, you’ve been naughty all year long,
But the elves all voted, babe, they like you with your wrong.”
He slid a little closer with that peppermint cologne,
Said “I brought you something extra you won’t find on Amazon.”
He’s got a list of daddies, twinks and hotties in a row,
He delivers holiday cheer with a soft theatrical glow.
If your tree lights start to flicker when he’s finally come around,
That’s just Santa doing cardio before he hits the town.
Santa Claus is going to town,
With a ho-ho-hey and a playful bound.
He likes his cookies crisp, his queens profound,
And his reindeer parked where the bass is loud.
If you hear that jingle sound,
While you’re dancin’ with your snowman crowd,
Strike a pose and drop it down,
‘Cause Santa Claus is going to town.
Now when I say ‘going to town,’
I mean he’s literally going downtown
To support small queer-owned businesses…
And maybe a leather bar or two.
Shop local, stay vocal, ho ho ho.
He’ll tip your drag, he’ll tip the band,
He’ll tip the bartender with a gloved white hand.
He’s the king of Christmas nightlife, honey, don’t you see?
Even Mrs. Claus said, “Baby, let him out till three.”
So if you’re feelin’ lonely on a frosty winter night,
String your fairy lights up high and let ‘em shine so bright.
‘Cause Santa loves the misfits and the queers who stand their ground,
He’ll trade you one shy little wish for a proper lip-synch crown.
And when he’s done with rooftops and the hetero décor,
He’ll slide into the queer club through the back side door.
And when that chorus drops and everybody spins around,
You’ll know the main event has hit the center of the town.
Santa Claus is going to town,
Where the boys wear heels and the queens wear crowns.
Where the misfits glow and the love resounds,
And the DJ keeps those sleigh bells drowned.
If you’ve ever felt run-down,
Let that red-suit daddy turn it around.
Time to sparkle, don’t you drown,
‘Cause Santa Claus is going to town.
Happy holidays, my naughty-but-nice snowflakes—
May your stockings be full, your lashes stay on,
And may Santa always know the way to your side of town.
Amanda holds the final note like she’s daring the rafters to blink first, arms spread wide as the music swells—and the CU Events Center erupts. The cheers come rushing in. She presses a hand to her chest, soaking it up, then starts blowing kisses with both hands—left, right, center—sending them out like confetti. She points to a few sections as if personally thanking each one, then gives a slow, dramatic curtsy, dipping low enough to make the glitter catch the light in a thousand little flashes.
And then she vanishes backstage behind the curtains, swallowed by darkness and the bustle beyond the entryway as the arena keeps cheering like they’re trying to pull her back out by volume alone.
The camera cuts immediately to ringside.
Belinda Simone and Erik Lunam sit at the broadcast table, headsets on, monitors glowing, the SCW logo bright on the front panel. Simone’s smile is sharp and ready. Lunam looks like he’s already halfway into a PARTY, energized by the atmosphere and the noise washing over them.
Simone: Boulder, Colorado, we are live and the CU Events Center is rocking tonight! Welcome, everybody, to SCW Climax Control!
Lunam: You can feel it in the air, Belinda. The crowd is loud, the ring is ready, and this is where the Road To Inception VIII gets real!
Simone: That’s right. To every member of the SCW Universe watching around the world and everyone packed into this building, thank you for being with us as we charge full speed toward Inception VIII!
Lunam: We’ve got momentum, we’ve got bad blood, we’ve got reputations on the line—and tonight’s lineup is stacked from start to finish. Six matches. Six chances to make a statement.
Simone: And that’s the key word tonight: statement. Because no matter where you sit on the card, every competitor who walks down that ramp is thinking about one thing—Inception VIII.
Lunam: They’re thinkin’ about opportunities. They’re thinkin’ about payback. They’re thinkin’ about climbin’ the ladder and kickin’ somebody else off it on the way up.
Simone: The energy in this arena tells you everything you need to know. Boulder came ready, and SCW came ready to match it. So buckle in! The Road To Inception VIII rolls right through Boulder, Colorado, and we are just about ready to get this night underway!
Lunam: Alright, Boulder, let’s get this night moving, because our opening match is the kind that can light a fuse under the entire Road To Inception VIII! Logan Hunter already has one eye on Inception! He’s got that opportunity to regain the Roulette Championship—but tonight he doesn’t get to stroll in and treat this like a warm-up lap, because standing across from him is the young newcomer they call “Celtic Thunder” Ciaran Doyle! And Doyle hasn’t been shy about it, either! He’s been runnin’ his mouth with a smile on his face, sayin’ Logan can’t even stand up to his own girlfriend, so how in the world is he supposed to stand up to the opponents waiting for him? That’s a shot at Logan’s pride, Logan’s ego, and Logan’s whole image—and if there’s one thing a guy like Hunter can’t tolerate, it’s bein’ embarrassed!
Simone: And the action doesn’t slow down for a second tonight, because coming up next we’ve got a collision of two women who both have huge nights looming at Inception VIII! Mercedes Vargas is headed straight into history as part of that groundbreaking World Bombshell Tag Team Match, but before she can even think about that spotlight, she has to handle business right here in Boulder against Amelia Reynolds! And make no mistake, Amelia isn’t just fighting for tonight—she’s sharpening her edge for Inception VIII as well, because she’s got a date with a former World Champion in Frankie Holliday! So you’re looking at two competitors with the pressure turned up, the stakes rising fast, and no room for mistakes because momentum on the Road To Inception VIII can be built in a heartbeat—and it can be shattered just as quickly!
Lunam: And if anybody in Boulder thought we were keepin’ things polite tonight, think again—because the next match is going to get ugly in a hurry! “Dreamkiller” Kayla Richards is gearin’ up for that Hardcore showdown with Bella Madison at Inception VIII, but before she gets there she’s steppin’ into the fire against the always-game, never-say-die young Bombshell Cassie Wolfe! And here’s the best part for the sickos in the crowd—this one isn’t some gentle tune-up. This match is contested under Hardcore Rules tonight! That means anything goes, nothin’ is off-limits, and the only guarantee is pain. Kayla wants to send a message to Bella Madison by leavin’ a trail behind her, and Cassie Wolfe has the kind of grit that says she’s willing to walk right into the storm just to prove she belongs! So buckle up, because this is where the Road To Inception VIII gets violent!
Simone: And coming up next, Boulder, we have a match that could shake the entire Road To Inception VIII—because “Unbreakable” Eddie Lyons goes one-on-one with Alexander Raven! Raven already has his sights set on the biggest prize in SCW. He’s headed for the Main Event of Inception VIII to challenge for the World Championship, and you know he wants to build unstoppable momentum on his way there. But standing in his path is Eddie Lyons, a man who thrives on pressure and refuses to back down from anyone—especially when he’s waiting to see if Brayden Hilton is going to answer his challenge for a Lyons Den match at Inception VIII! Lyons has something to prove, Raven has everything to protect, and when you put those two mindsets in the ring together, somebody’s plans for Inception VIII might take a serious hit tonight!
Lunam: And up next, Boulder—this one is personal and it’s explosive, because we’ve got a non-title match with the Internet Champion, Miles Kasey, and he is steppin’ into the ring with the very man who brutalized his brother LJ this past week, “Bulldog” Bill Barnhart! Barnhart didn’t just jump LJ—he made it a statement, drivin’ him down with a piledriver on the ringside floor like he wanted the whole SCW Universe to see exactly how far he’ll go. Now Miles has to keep his championship pride in check because this isn’t about gold tonight! It’s about payback. Barnhart’s comin’ in with that mean, grinding style and the attitude of a man who enjoys the damage—and Miles Kasey is comin’ in with the kind of focus you only get when somebody messes with your family. This is the kind of match where the bell doesn’t start the fight… it just makes it official!
Simone: And then it all builds to a main event that feels almost unreal to say out loud, Boulder, because tonight’s headliner is a non-title showdown that’s equal parts prestige and personal history—wife versus wife! The World Champion, Crystal Caldwell, steps into the six-sided ring to face her own wife, Seleana Zdunich, in a sneak preview of what awaits at Inception VIII in that World Championship tag team match! Think about the emotions in that ring: they know each other better than anyone, they’ve trained together, lived together, trusted each other—and tonight they have to put all of that aside and compete across the ropes. Pride, momentum, and a message heading into Inception VIII are all on the line, and no matter how this ends, the ripple effects are going to be felt long after the final bell! Tune in to see all this and more on SCW Climax Control!
An “earlier today” graphic flashes on the screen before it cuts to the backstage area, Justin Decent, SCW’s longstanding ring announcer and heart throb, is waiting around for someone.
Justin: I can’t believe she’s having me do this!
Justin runs a hand down his face.
Justin: I know it’s part of her plan but do I really have to meet up with…………..
Brooke: AHEM!
Justin closes his eyes before turning around and seeing Brooke approaching, Logan and Marissa are standing nearby.
Justin: Hello Brooke.
Brooke: Yeah, yeah, look we need to talk about that whole “barbie and ken” bullshit from last week.
Justin: Someone’s in a mood.
Brooke: Ciaran called Logan pussy whipped, PUSSY WHIPPED!
Justin snorts while Marissa barely contains her laughter.
Brooke: PUH-LEASE! Like my relationship with Logan is anything like Victoria’s relationship with Darian!
Justin: Can we get to the point? I’ve got a busy night ahead of me!
Brooke: Fine, FINE!
Brooke reaches down into her crop top and produces a glittery pink envelope from her bra before handing it out to Justin.
Justin: Really?
Brooke: What? I washed before we came out to the show!
Justin: It’s just unsanitary!
Brooke: Like I care! Just take it!
Justin does so.
Brooke: Evelyn said that you’d follow my instructions, I take it you got that message?
Justin: I did.
Brooke: You will read that note WORD FOR WORD during Logan’s entrance tonight, not a single syllable out of place, not one alteration, EVERY! LAST! WORD!
Justin: You got it!
Brooke walks off with Logan while Marissa shakes her head as she hangs back a bit.
Marissa: You’re going to have fun with this, aren’t you?
Justin: Yep!
Justin walks off as the scene fades.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Ciarán Doyle, I was just looking for…
Ciarán’s back is to the hallway, one palm on the concrete, the other braced on his hip as he stretches. One leg is kicked up so high it’s nearly straight vertical, the toe of his boot planted against the wall like it belongs there. The boot’s sole is practically hovering at eye level for anyone passing by…
Ms. Rocky Mountains: …Oh my.
Ciarán’s head turns casually, like this is a perfectly normal way to exist in public. Ms. Rocky Mountains is staring up at the boot, because it’s above even her own head. Ciarán blinks once, then lowers the leg with the confidence of a man who absolutely did not just gamble with his hamstring.
Ciarán lands the boot, rights himself… and immediately makes an exaggerated, comical “ow” face, holding his lower back like he just aged forty years in half a second.
Ciarán Doyle: Ahh, Saints preserve me! That's grand. That’s grand. Just me body remindin’ me I’m not made o’ rubber, is all.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: I don’t even know what to say to that.
Ciarán Doyle: Ye can say “thank ye,” miss, for the free show. Or ye can say what ye came to say, ‘cause I’m after makin’ meself creak like an old stairwell here.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Fair enough. Ciarán, you’ve got Logan Hunter in your opening match tonight. Two days ago, you had plenty to say. Any final thoughts before you head out there?
Ciarán Doyle: Final thoughts? Aye, I’ve a few, but I already said what I needed to say two days ago, didn’t I? I’m not here to do a poetry readin’. I’m here to fight.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Logan Hunter is tough. He’s hungry. He’s got something to prove…
Ciarán Doyle: And so do I. Only difference is, I don’t need to prove it with yappin’. I prove it with hands.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: There’s also been, let’s call it a factor, in all of this. Brooke.
Ciarán’s expression shifts, still calm, still controlled, but there’s a sharpness behind it now, like the air just got colder.
Ciarán Doyle: A factor. That’s a nice way o’ puttin’ it.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Is she going to be an issue out there?
Ciarán Doyle: I’ll be right as rain so long as Logan can keep Brooke’s nose outta our business. That’s it. That’s the whole story. Simple.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: And if he can’t?
Ciarán Doyle: Then we’ve a problem, don’t we?
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Spell it out for me, Ciarán.
Ciarán Doyle: Alright. If she keeps herself out o’ it, if she lets Logan handle things on his own like a grown man, then I’ll handle things. Me. Not the ref, not the crowd, not the drama. Me.
Ciarán steps a half pace closer, not threatening, just intensely certain. He gestures toward the entrance curtain down the hall with his thumb, like the ring is calling him by name.
Ciarán Doyle: But if she doesn’t, if she wants to stick her beak in and pull strings and make it about her, then Logan’s gonna find out somethin’ he might not like.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Which is?
Ciarán Doyle: That I’m not the fella ye bring nonsense to and expect to walk away smilin’. If she meddles, then I’ll still be the one handlin’ things, only it won’t be just a match I’m handlin’. Understand?
Ms. Rocky Mountains: I think everyone watching understands exactly what you’re saying.
Ciarán Doyle: Good. Then I’ve done yer job for ye.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: One more thing, after that stretch, are you sure you’re even cleared to compete?
Ciarán’s face flickers with mock offense. Then he winces again on purpose, overdoing it, rubbing his hip like he’s a wounded hero.
Ciarán Doyle: Ahh… tragic. Cancel the match. Tell Logan I’m takin’ the night off to join a ballet.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Ciarán…
Ciarán Doyle: I’m grand. I’m ready. And Logan, he can be ready too or he can be distracted. Either way, the bell rings, and it becomes me world for as long as I’m standin’ in it.
He rolls his shoulders once, the joking gone as fast as it came. Then he starts walking, purposeful, steady, toward gorilla position.
Ciarán Doyle: Now if ye’ll excuse me, miss? I’ve got a man to teach manners to.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Ciarán Doyle, back to you.
Lunam: Looks like we have a great match to open this edition of Climax Control. We have a newcomer in Ciaran Doyle facing off against Logan Hunter.
Simone: Logan Hunter has been in Sin City Wrestling for a good amount of time. It will be interesting to see how these two do against each other.
Justin: Welcome to another edition of Climax Control! Our opening match is a Standard Rules match. First to make their way to the ring, he is from Killarney, County Kerry, Ireland, and he comes into this match at five feet eleven inches and one hundred sixty-seven pounds… please give a great Boulder, Colorado welcome for CIARAN DOYLE!!!
The introduction echoes as Ciaran begins his walk, the battle-charged rhythm matching the sway of his steps. He slips off the stage and moves down the ramp with a fluid glide—every motion smooth, confident, magnetic. Fans reach out and he meets them with quick high-fives, warm nods, and smiles that light up his whole face. At ringside, he pauses to hand a nearby fan a white feather, then slides under the bottom rope with effortless grace. He rises in one fluid motion and heads straight for the corner, stepping onto the second turnbuckle. He spreads his arms as the camera catches his hair falling over his shoulder when he leans forward, inviting the crowd’s roar. Ciaran hops down, runs a hand through his hair, then circles the ring as a focused calm settles in. The showman’s smile fades into a warrior’s readiness. He grips the top rope, testing its spring, body relaxed but poised—centered and prepared. The music fades and Ciaran Doyle turns toward center ring, eyes locked and expression sharpened, ready for the match to begin.
Lunam: That was a nice entrance—music, style, grace, and confidence.
Simone: I have a feeling that style and grace and confidence is going to get knocked out of him quickly by Logan Hunter once the bell rings.
Justin: And his opponent! He hails from Sydney, Australia… he stands in at six feet even and two hundred seventy pounds… please give a great Boulder, Colorado welcome for LOGAN HUNTER!!!
Ciaran waits in the ring patiently while the fans buzz—more than a few wondering what Brooke’s stubbornness has unleashed this week.
Simone: Well we know Logan will be back to his old entrance theme this week, but apparently Evelyn has something else planned.
Lunam: And as we saw earlier? It got Brooke paranoid enough that she left handwritten instructions for Justin.
“HOPE CASTRATED” by Cage Fight detonates over the speakers and Logan steps onto the stage in his usual storm-cloud mood—eyes narrowed, jaw set, glaring straight at the ring like it personally insulted him. The Shields Twins flank him, moving with their usual sensual confidence as Logan stalks down the ramp.
But then Justin glances down at a note in his hand… and visibly sighs through a smile that he tries—and fails—to hide.
Justin: (reading what he was told to read) LISTEN HERE MR. DECENT YOU WILL READ WHAT I HAVE WRITTEN HERE WORD FOR WORD BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT EVELYNN TOLD ME!!!
Simone: Oh no!
Lunam: Oh this is going to be hilarious!
Brooke immediately stops mid-dance, frozen in horror, while Marissa bites her lip so hard she nearly laughs out loud.
Justin: (reading) MY HANDSOME. GORGEOUS, FANTABOLOUS AND IMPECCABLY WELL DRESSED CLIENT/BOYFRIEND LOGAN HUNTER WILL BE ANNOUNCED CORRECTLY! HE IS NOT A DOLL, HE IS THE BEST GO GO GYM GRADUATE IN YEARS AND YOU WILL TREAT HIM WITH THE RESPECT HE DESERVES.
Simone: Justin is having way too much fun with this.
Lunam: I don’t know………..
Justin: (reading) AND IF PUSSY WILLOW THINKS THAT I’M GOING TO APOLOGIZE TO HER? PUH-LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!
Lunam: Never mind, I’m convinced.
Brooke’s face turns the color of a stop sign.
Brooke: I DON’T SOUND LIKE THAT!!!
Justin: NOW PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR THE NEXT ROULETTE CHAMPION… LOGAN HUNTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Logan storms into the ring as if the canvas itself owes him an apology. Brooke glares daggers at Justin from the ramp while Marissa folds over in helpless laughter. Ciaran, in his corner, watches the whole spectacle with the faintest smirk—then his eyes sharpen again as Logan rolls his shoulders and paces like a caged animal.
Referee Jasmine St. John motions for Doyle and Hunter to join her in the center of the ring. Once they’re standing with her, she lays it out clearly: strict officiating. Illegal maneuvers, weapons, and repeated rule violations will not be tolerated. She will issue two warnings—on the third offense, she will call for a disqualification. She asks both men if they understand. Ciaran nods once, calm and focused. Logan answers with a tight, irritated grin like he’s already planning to toe every line he can find.
Referee St. John sends them back to their corners and signals the timekeeper.
Lunam: I am looking forward to a great match—even though the theatrics by Logan Hunter were strange… but amusing.
Simone: I am also looking forward to a great match and I agree—whatever that was, it was interesting.
DING DING DING!
The bell rings and this match is officially underway! Both wrestlers explode out of their corners and collide at center ring—hands flying, forearms cracking, boots thudding into shins and thighs as they trade strikes in a heated opening scramble. Referee St. John hangs back, eyes sharp, letting them fight so long as it stays clean.
They break apart and Logan swings a quick clothesline, trying to decapitate the newcomer early—but Ciaran ducks smoothly, spins behind, and clips Logan’s leg out from under him. Hunter hits the mat and Ciaran immediately drops stomps into the legs, targeting the base like a surgeon. Doyle reaches for a Figure-Four Leg Lock, but Hunter twists, scoots, and scrambles—dragging himself toward the ropes and tangling up just enough to force a break.
Referee St. John orders Ciaran back. Doyle backs off—hands up, measured, waiting while Jasmine untangles Logan and demands he step away from the ropes. Hunter takes his time, jaw clenched, then pushes off the cables like he owns them.
Lunam: Too bad Logan was able to get himself into the ropes—Ciaran was about to lock in that Figure-Four and he might’ve had a submission.
Simone: Not likely that a wrestler with the abilities of Logan would tap out to a Figure-Four. Getting to the ropes there was strategy—keep your opponent guessing, keep them off-balance.
As soon as the action resets, Ciaran steps in—but Logan clamps onto him and drives a series of hard knees into Doyle’s midsection, each one thudding like a drumbeat. Ciaran fights back, trying to create space, but Logan’s pressure is grinding, methodical. Hunter backs off half a step to change his angle… and that’s when Ciaran snaps a spinning back fist across Logan’s jaw.
Logan staggers, rocked, and Doyle surges—dropping him and trying to cinch a Boston Crab. Hunter snarls, kicks, and wriggles free before the hold can fully bite, then crawls to the opposite side of the ring to slow it down and breathe. Ciaran stalks him, but doesn’t rush—measuring, reading, waiting for the opening like he’s been here a lot longer than the record book says.
Lunam: Both wrestlers have been able to get holds and blows on the other, so it’ll be interesting to see what happens next.
Simone: That is easy to predict, Erik. Logan Hunter is going to win. Gee, that was simple, eh?
They circle again—closer now—hands twitching, shoulders rolling, each man trying to bait the other into a mistake. They trade more shots, not quite knockout blows yet, but enough to leave marks. Referee St. John stays close, tracking everything.
Lunam: Looks like both wrestlers are ready to go for the win and end this match.
Simone: I agree with you.
At ringside, Brooke climbs up onto the apron, clapping and calling out—loud, animated, too close for comfort. Referee St. John turns and snaps at her to get down. Brooke refuses, barking right back. Jasmine glares, then turns her attention back to the match—she can’t let it slip.
Logan seizes the moment—grabbing Ciaran and whipping him hard toward the ropes… and toward Brooke. Ciaran stumbles as he hits the side, then drops down clutching at his shoulder and jaw, immediately pointing and claiming Brooke shoved him. The crowd erupts with a split reaction—some booing, some laughing, some shouting that they didn’t see it.
Referee St. John turns on Brooke like a thunderstorm. Brooke protests, hands up, swearing she didn’t touch him. Jasmine isn’t having it—she orders Brooke off the apron and away from ringside or she’s throwing the match out. Brooke keeps arguing… and that’s it. Officials move in and remove her from ringside as Brooke screams the whole way.
Lunam: What just happened there?
Simone: I guess Brooke got removed for interfering… but I also didn’t see what happened.
Logan Hunter is incandescent. He gets right in Referee St. John’s face, pleading, demanding she reverse it—demanding she admit Brooke did nothing wrong. Jasmine points sharply back at him and orders him to get back to the match immediately or he’ll be removed too. Logan turns, still shouting—still distracted—and that’s when Ciaran explodes. Doyle springs to the corner ropes in one motion, launches, and snaps a springboard sunset flip that drives Logan hard into the mat.
Referee St. John drops for the count!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!!!
DING! DING!! DING!!!
Justin: Here is the official decision in this match from Referee Jasmine St. John! The winner of this match, by pinfall… CIARAN DOYLE!!!
Referee St. John raises Ciaran’s hand. Doyle exhales, nods, and takes a slow lap around the ring—one hand raised, the other pressed briefly to his ribs as the adrenaline settles. He slips out to the floor and heads up the ramp, soaking in the reaction.
Back in the ring, Logan sits up furious, immediately barking at Referee St. John about Brooke, about the call, about everything. Jasmine’s face is stone—she tells him the decision is final and points him toward the ropes. Logan storms out, still arguing all the way to the aisle.
Lunam: Well, Belinda, I told you that Ciaran was going to win this match.
Simone: Easy to make that statement after the match is over, eh? We’ll see what happens down the way.
SINGLES MATCH
Ryan Keys vs Liam Davis
Backstage. Mercedes Vargas stands center frame in her wrestling gear under the lights, a faint, unimpressed smirk on her face. She folds her arms as the camera slowly pushes in.
Mercedes: Two weeks ago, I became the winningest wrestler in SCW history. More career wins than anyone. More wins on Climax Control than anyone. I rewrote the record book in real time. Around here, people get balloons and parades for doing half of that. They get songs, speeches, highlight reels. Me? Did I get a celebration?
She arches an eyebrow, glancing off-camera as if expecting an answer that never comes.
Mercedes: Did I get a statue in my honor? A video package? Confetti? A tribute, ceremony, even a pat on the back? One fake tear from Christian Underwood or Evelyn Hall at least? Anything?
She lets the question hang, then snaps her gaze back to the lens.
Mercedes: No. Instead, I got dropped into the worst drama feud this company has ever produced. Bienvenidos a mi vida.
Mercedes paces a step to the side, hands cutting through the air in sharp, annoyed gestures.
Mercedes: And you know what else? I'm sick of every Phoebe, Monica, and Rachel in this locker room acting like I’m the reason their lives are a mess.
She counts the names off on her fingers, a mocking little smile tugging at her lips.
Mercedes: Crystal Zdunich’s world champion again? None of you are championship material. Bella Madison with the gold? SCW would fold again — hell no.
Her expression darkens as she leans a little closer to the camera.
Mercedes: Seleana’s marriage imploding like a telenovela? That’s on her. She can bring her entire family tree, distant cousins included, into this if she wants. She opened that door. Now she has to live with what walks through it. You marry chaos and act surprised when it burns you? That’s not tragedy. That’s stupidity.
Mercedes rolls her shoulders out, as if loosening up before a fight, then plants her feet and stares straight down the lens.
Mercedes: Tonight, I go one-on-one against Amelia Reynolds, and people are calling it a “tune-up match”.
She tilts her head, feigning confusion.
Mercedes: A tune-up for who? For me? No. I’ve been doing this longer than Amelia has been dreaming about it. This is not a tune-up. It’s a reality check for her.
She jabs a finger toward the camera, as if pointing directly at Amelia.
Mercedes: Amelia is not stepping into the ring with a warm-up act; she’s stepping in with the woman who set the standard in this company. She’s not a threat. She’s content. Safe. Marketable. She’s the girl they throw on a poster for likes and retweets and hope nobody notices she’s out of her depth. I’m the final exam they keep failing. She’s just the prelude to the chaos her friends are praying I don’t walk away from.
Mercedes lets out a quiet, humorless laugh, then slowly paces across the shot as the camera tracks with her.
Mercedes: And in three weeks, we get to the main event of this little soap opera: Crystal and me against Seleana and Zenna, with the World Bombshell Championship hanging over everything like a cliff-hanger.
She holds her hands out as if framing a TV screen, then snaps them shut into fists.
Mercedes: Whichever Zdunich sister pins Crystal at Inception becomes champion. Everyone is obsessed with which Zdunich will leave with the belt, and somehow they’ve forgotten about the woman who built this division brick by brick.
She steps in close, filling the frame with cold intensity.
Mercedes: You don’t get your fairytale ending while I’m still here.
Mercedes slowly lowers her voice, each word landing heavier than the last.
Mercedes: This is what happens when you drag Mercedes Vargas into your family drama: bodies are left behind and dreams are shattered. Seleana wants revenge, Zenna wants to be a savior, Crystal wants to cling to her title, and Amelia wants to make a name. They all want something.
She pauses, letting the silence stretch, then straightens up, every inch the veteran star.
Mercedes: By the time tonight is over, the only thing any of them will have is a clear view of the truth: soy el libro de récords de SCW, la historia viviente de esta empresa. I’m the record book, the living history of this company. I’m the reason any of them get to call themselves Bombshells at all.
Mercedes smirks, lifting her chin slightly.
Mercedes: So let them chase their moments, post their clips, write their little speeches. I walk into Climax Control already the most decorated woman in this company’s history…
She turns slightly, giving the camera a final sideways look.
Mercedes: ...and I walk out with another win, another broken heart, and yet another family pointing the finger at me for the disaster they created themselves.
She holds the stare for a beat as the camera slowly pulls back, aquamarine light flaring around her before the scene cuts to black.
Simone: Welcome back to Climax Control and our first Bombshell contest of the evening! Mercedes Vargas will be part of that huge World Bombshell Tag Team Match at Inception VIII, but tonight she goes one-on-one with “The Skyborn” Amelia Reynolds!
Lunam: Amelia has been undefeated since she returned to SCW, while Mercedes has had a career renaissance this year including winning the Bombshell Internet Championship twice! This is anyone’s game!
Simone: This should be a fantastic match. Let’s take it to Justin!
Justin: The following contest is scheduled for one fall!
The lights snap out as the jagged electronic rhythm of “Better on Mute” by Sophie Powers rattles the arena. A hot pink glow ripples across the stage in time with the beat. The crowd gives a mixed reaction curious, loud, ready as the strobes blink bright white and silver.
Through the glare, Amelia Reynolds steps out from behind the curtain in a rhinestone-studded jacket, smirk playful but precise. She turns into the strobe like she’s flipping a switch from sugar to spark. A few seconds later, Dickie Watson joins her steady, calm, quietly proud. Amelia loops her arm through his for a beat, cheek brushing his shoulder then the bass hits and she lets go, striding down the ramp like she owns the runway.
Halfway down, Amelia stops, turns to the hard cam, and lifts a finger to her lips not to hush, but to make a point then laughs and sings along as the line hits.
“Better on mute, fuck you, I’ll do it myself.”
The crowd reacts and Amelia answers with a sharp wink before continuing. Dickie follows at an easy pace, amused and quietly protective.
Justin: Introducing first! Representing Wolfslair from the beaches of the Gold Coast of Queensland, Australia “The Skyborn” AMEEEEELIIAAAAAAAA REEEEYYYYNOOOOLLLLLDDDDSSSSS!!!
At ringside, Amelia brushes her fingertips along the apron, then springs up in one clean motion. She balances for a breath, hair catching the light, before pushing off into a flawless springboard over the ropes. She lands in a low crouch, grinning toward the camera before rising. She climbs the second rope and poses one hand under her chin then hops down and slips off her jacket, tossing it to Dickie, who catches it with a smirk.
Simone: Amelia certainly has a bright future in SCW. Many wonder how long it’ll take her to win her first title!
Lunam: But tonight she faces someone who’s been in SCW for over a decade!
Justin: And her opponent!
The arena goes dark again and the crowd rises with it. “Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me” by U2 blares across the PA and the mood shifts instantly. Under a subtle glow, Mercedes Vargas emerges hands on her waist, head tilted, surveying the crowd like she’s weighing their worth.
Justin: Making her way to the ring, from Buenos Aires, Argentina, weighing in at 115 pounds MERCEEEEEDEEEES VAAAARGAAAAS!
Cheers, boos, and catcalls greet her. Mercedes flips her hair, satisfied, and glides down the ramp. She climbs the steps, stalks the apron, then hits the turnbuckle to pose her expression determined, a quiet warning. Mercedes vaults into the ring and takes the opposite corner, draped along the ropes like she’s already bored.
Simone: Mercedes has had a career renaissance, but many of her wins have seen controversy.
Lunam: Easier to list her wins without controversy!
Referee Jacob runs down the rules with both women, checks each corner, then signals the timekeeper.
DING DING DING!
Simone: And this matchup is underway!
Lunam: Strap yourselves in, folks!
Amelia and Mercedes circle, then lock up at center ring. Amelia snaps an early arm drag and Mercedes tumbles, scrambling up only to eat a sharp dropkick that sends her spilling through the ropes to the floor! Amelia sprints toward the side like she’s about to dive Mercedes ducks preemptively and Amelia hits a handstand on the ropes before flipping back into the ring, taunting her with a grin.
Simone: And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why Amelia is called The Skyborn!
Lunam: Mercedes is going to have to dig deep into her bag of tricks to keep up with her, that’s for sure!
Mercedes barks a string of Spanish that definitely isn’t a compliment. Amelia just curls her fingers in a “bring it” gesture. Vargas slides back in and swings a clothesline Amelia ducks, rebounds, and snaps a hurricanrana, holding on for the first pin attempt!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Mercedes pops up annoyed and this time she dodges a clothesline with a slick Matrix-style lean, then bridges a German suplex that folds Amelia up and drops her hard!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Mercedes tries for another German, but Amelia lands on her feet and blasts Mercedes with a jumping knee to the face, then dives into another pin!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Frustrated, Mercedes slides out again to slow things down. Amelia moves to follow, but Jacob steps between the ropes to enforce space so Amelia waits half a beat then slips out behind his back and sprints around the ring. She hops onto the steps and launches a crossbody to the floor, flattening Mercedes beside the barricade!
Simone: Some innovative thinking from Amelia kept the momentum on her side!
Lunam: And Mercedes is going to have to think fast if she wants to curtail that momentum.
Amelia rolls in to break the count, then darts back out as Mercedes rises. Jacob leans through the ropes to check on the veteran and Amelia tries for a flip dive over the official but Mercedes catches her mid-flight and POWERBOMBS her onto the barricade! The impact pops the crowd and Amelia crumples, clutching her back. Mercedes drags her off the floor, rolls her into the ring, and follows with cold efficiency.
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Lunam: Either way, Amelia’s back will be hurting in the morning!
Mercedes goes to work on that back knee strikes into the lower spine, then she hooks in a Boston Crab and sits deep, wrenching Amelia’s torso backward. Jacob asks if Amelia wants to quit. Amelia shakes her head violently, teeth clenched, crawling inch by inch. Mercedes cranks harder, trying to stop the crawl but Amelia claws the bottom rope and forces the break! Mercedes yanks her up Amelia slips a sudden small package!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
They rise at the same time and both go for crossbodies collision double down! The crowd claps and stomps as both women breathe hard on the canvas.
Simone: And now both Amelia and Mercedes are down!
Lunam: The ball’s in Amelia’s court after that small package, but that powerbomb into the barricade is going to matter.
Amelia gets up first favoring her back and reaches for Mercedes only to get caught with a sudden superkick!
Simone: Mercedes with the Be Still My Heart from out of nowhere!
Lunam: She caught Amelia flush with that!
Mercedes covers!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Mercedes snarls done playing she signals for the Black Rose Overdrive and hauls Amelia up for the burning hammer. Amelia fights punching at Mercedes’s head then twists and spikes her with a DDT to escape! Amelia crawls, then forces herself up, shaking out the pain. She drags herself to position and launches for the Celestial Break an Asai corkscrew shooting star press but Mercedes gets her knees up! Amelia folds in midair, gasping, and Mercedes immediately stacks her with a jackknife!
ONE!
MERCEDES PUTS HER FEET ON THE ROPES!
TWO!
Simone: JACOB! LOOK!
Lunam: Mercedes is about to steal one!
THREE!!!
DING DING DING!
Justin: Here’s your winner Mercedes Vargas!
Simone: Yet another tainted win by Mercedes, but it does mean momentum as we head toward the new year!
Lunam: And it’s back to square one for Amelia!
Amelia sits up furious, arguing with Jacob as Dickie climbs to the apron, pointing out the rope assist. Jacob tries to explain what he did or didn’t see, but the damage is done. Mercedes smirks as she backs up the ramp, celebrating like she pulled off a masterpiece, while Amelia glares holes through her from the ring.
The camera fades in mid-conversation.
Ryan Keys is already on screen, leaning against a production wall with a red Santa hat perched crookedly on his head, the white pom-pom bouncing slightly every time he moves. He’s got his arms folded, relaxed—but he’s standing just enough in front of Ms. Rocky Mountains that it’s very clear he’s there on purpose.
Ryan Keys: So I almost bought pre-tangled Christmas lights online. Like… hovered over the checkout button and everything.
Ms. Rocky Mountains glances at the hat first. Then at him.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Almost?
Ryan Keys: Yeah. Website gave my phone a virus instead. Whole screen froze. Snowflakes everywhere. I don’t know if I was hacked or haunted.
She exhales slowly.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: That might be the universe protecting you.
Ryan Keys: Oh, absolutely. Because if I had bought those lights? That’s how you invite chaos into your home.
Her eyes flick past him, down the hallway.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Chaos seems to be following us anyway.
Ryan’s smile doesn’t fade, but his stance shifts just a little, more grounded, more present.
Ryan Keys: Yeah. Last time, chaos showed up in boots… wearing a Santa hat that frankly did not pull off the look.
Ms. Rocky Mountains folds her arms.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Anthrax.
Ryan Keys: Anthrax. Big guy. Loud entrance. Questionable holiday spirit.
He reaches up and adjusts his own Santa hat with a grin.
Ryan Keys: See, this? This is how you do festive intimidation. You smile first.
She eyes him.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: You’re really standing guard right now.
Ryan Keys: Mm-hmm. Temporary assignment. Making sure no one gets jump-scared by a six-foot metal album cover again.
There’s a beat. The joking tone softens, not serious, just solid.
Ryan Keys: And also, I’m done hanging out back here. I’m warm, I’m healed, and I’m real ready to move again.
Ms. Rocky Mountains turns fully toward him.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: You’re saying you’re cleared.
Ryan Keys: Cleared. Rested. Slightly festive.
She gestures at the hat.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: That’s a choice.
Ryan Keys: Holiday morale.
He grins. Then, a little closer to the camera now, casual confidence rolling off him.
Ryan Keys: If Anthrax wants to scare people, cool. If he wants attention? Even better.
Ms. Rocky Mountains looks into the lens.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Ryan Keys says he’s ready.
Ryan tips the Santa hat forward just a touch.
Ryan Keys: Ring’s open. Music’s loud. And I promise, no jump scares from me.
The camera lingers for a second as Ryan keeps his position beside her, relaxed but alert.
Fade out.
SINGLES MATCH - TWISTED SISTER’S PLAYHOUSE
Cassie Wolfe vs Twisted Sister
The camera is fine roulette Champion Vincent Lyons Jr somewhere among the Shadows of the Arena, His face is shrouded in the shadows and his championship faintly glints among the darkness.
Vincent Lyons Junior: I always knew Logan Hunter, was a fool but I didn't think he would be this stupid. I thought I had finished this fight, it appears Logan Hunter has not yet learned his lesson.
And shakes his head with a sadistic smile.
Vincent Lyons Junior: So now he gets another shot at my championship. Is that supposed to bother me? Because Logan Hunter is of no concern to me all that's going to happen is I'm going to finish that mop headed little weirdo off for good.
He pauses shortly, glaring through the lens.
Vincent Lyons Junior: You should have walked away Logan, but if you want me to embarrass you again then I will and this time there will be no coming back for you. You want to walk through hell again, I'll be more than happy to open the gates for you. Just remember whatever happens is your fault, because you refuse to accept your fate.
Vincent laughs slightly and grins at the camera as it fades to black.
The lights inside Boulder’s CU Events Center drop a shade darker, turning the crowd into a living silhouette around the six-sided ring. Camera flashes pop like distant sparks as fans lean over the barricades, phones held high, trying to capture the moment before it happens.
At the center of the ring sits a setup that looks more like a courtroom than a battleground. A long table, two chairs positioned on opposite sides so neither man has to give an inch. The SCW logo is stamped across the tabletop, and in the middle, waiting like a loaded weapon, rests a folder holding the official contract for the World Heavyweight Championship Main Event at Inception VIII.
Evelyn Hall stands front and center in the ring, squared shoulders, microphone in one hand and authority in the other. She lets the noise crest, lets Boulder have its moment, then raises the mic and the arena settles into an expectant hush.
Evelyn Hall: Boulder, Colorado! Welcome to SCW Climax Control!
The crowd answers with a surging cheer.
Evelyn Hall: Tonight, you’re here for something official. Something binding. Something that cannot be walked back once the ink hits the page.
Evelyn turns slightly, gesturing to the table and the two chairs like she’s presenting evidence.
Evelyn Hall: Inception VIII is coming, and at Inception VIII, the World Heavyweight Championship will be defended in our main event. Not with rumors. Not with backchannel promises. Not with maybes. With a signature. With a contract. With two men who will be locked into destiny whether they like it or not.
Evelyn pauses, letting the atmosphere tighten, letting the camera catch the contract folder sitting dead center.
Evelyn Hall: So now, Boulder, you’re going to witness the official contract signing for the World Heavyweight Championship match at Inception VIII.
Another reaction swells, some cheers, some boos, all energy.
Evelyn Hall: Introducing first, the challenger at Inception VIII - Alexander Raven!
As the opening rift of 'Kafka' by Jinjer begins to play out the lights change to a darkish blue.
'Hardly in the spirit of the era. Dedicate and thin skinned. Alexander bursts from the curtain and out onto the stage. His face drawn and stoic, the slight flaring of his nostrils as he nods a little to himself. A black button up, buttons all the way done. Black jeans and a pair of purple Vans to finish the look. Slightly more formal than his usual singlet and ripped jeans. His hand extends out to his side, as Luna Pasilno steps through the smoke, taking his hand in hers. The two of them slowly begin to make their way down the ramp, hand in hand.
'Beauty of looks, beauty of faults.
Frightened and offhand. Deaf to a command.'
As they reach the ring apron, they let go of each other's hands, Alexander stepping up onto the ring apron, and turns to look back at Luna. The two of them lock eyes as he slowly steps backwards through the ropes, before turning toward the centre of the ring. He takes a moment to look at Evelyn, a sly grin crossing his face. The crowd is raucous with their disapproval. Constant jeering and booing.
Alex turns to look out at them for a moment, lifting his arms and waving his hands, ushering in the vitriol/ Luna taking a slight bow before being told in no unsimple terms that her presence is not wanted by the ringside security. The two of them share one more knowing look, and a nod. As Luna is escorted back, Alex turns back towards the table and pulls one of the chairs out, taking a seat on it, his eyes locked on the entranceway.
With the entrance now complete, Evelyn stands patient and composed.
One appeared in front of the jury. Face uncovered in front of the jury.'
Evelyn Hall: And now! Introducing the reigning, defending SCW World Heavyweight Champion - Helluva Bottom Carter!
Lady Gaga’s Born This Way erupts through the CU Events Center sound system, and the building reacts like it’s been waiting all night for the first spark. The lights snap and sweep, catching pockets of fans on their feet. Then he appears at the top of the aisle with the World Heavyweight Championship strapped tight around his waist, shoulders back, chin high, wearing the kind of confidence that doesn’t ask permission.
Carter doesn’t rush a single step. He makes the aisle his stage. He points to sections of the crowd like he’s calling them into the moment, slaps hands along the barricade, and throws quick little poses timed to the music’s pulse. He soaks up every cheer and every camera flash, letting Boulder have him, letting the fans feel like they’re part of the walk that brought the title here.
But the closer he gets to ringside, the more the performance drains from his face.
At the edge of the ramp, Carter slows. The last of the playful energy evaporates as his eyes find Alexander Raven. The champion’s smile disappears into something colder. The arena noise fades behind the tension between them, and for a beat, it looks like Carter could walk straight past the steps and start a fight instead of a signing.
He doesn’t.
He slides in under the bottom rope with crisp purpose, rising to his feet in one smooth motion. The title catches the overhead lights as he straightens it once at his waist, not for the crowd now, just because it belongs there. Carter circles toward the contract table, never breaking the line of sight with Raven, and then deliberately walks around the table so there’s nothing between them but the wood and the paper.
He stops on the opposite side, standing tall, staring Raven down across the contract like it’s already a battleground. Then, without a word, Helluva Bottom Carter pulls the vacant chair back and takes his seat, all business.
Evelyn looks from one side of the table to the other, making sure both men are exactly where they’re supposed to be. In her hands, she holds the official contract for the championship Main Event. She brings it down to the table with deliberate care, opens it, and turns the pages so the camera can catch the bold header and the signature lines waiting at the bottom. Then she slides it across the tabletop toward Alexander Raven, guiding it with her fingertips until it rests directly in front of him.
Alexander Raven: No more running. No more politicking. No more screaming and crying. This is happening. It is finally happening. Two fucking years I’ve waited for another chance. Two years. Two years of being the best thing around here. The greatest Internet Champion of all time. The consummate king of the Roulette Division. The destroyer of dreams, the ruiner of celebration. The thief of your pride. You cannot run from me anymore, Carter. Come Inception, it all ends. No more doubt. Everything will change, because I will be the World’s Heavyweight Champion. I will be the man that everyone wants to be, and you. You’ll finally know what it is like to lose everything, because I will take it all from you. None of you will ever see that useless fucking prop again, for the World Champion will be a title in knowledge and stature. Not something that is stated by a troped up piece of leather and gold. No matter what you do, you will know the cold truth. Alexander Raven took it all away from you.
When the challenger’s part is complete, Evelyn takes the contract back without flinching, the paper now carrying the weight of a promise made. She turns and slides it across again, this time in front of Helluva Bottom Carter, stopping it neatly at the champion’s side of the table.
HBCarter: Two years, huh? Funny how you say that like it’s a prison sentence I handed you instead of the time it took you to convince yourself the universe owes you a crown because you collected trinkets in the midcard and called it destiny. You want to talk about “no more running” like I’ve been ducking you, when the truth is I’ve been busy being what you only cosplay as in your little speeches! A champion. You’ve built an entire mythology out of being loud, bitter, and online, and you keep mistaking that for greatness. “Greatest Internet Champion,” “king of Roulette,” “destroyer of dreams”...listen to you!
The champion shakes his head in disgust.
HBCarter: You don’t sound like a threat, you sound like a résumé stapled to a tantrum. And don’t pretend you clawed your way here on merit alone, Raven. If it wasn’t for your wife stepping in and saving your sorry ass when it counted, you’d still be down there screaming at the world for not appreciating your stature while I’m up here actually holding the thing you’re obsessed with! You can call this title leather and gold all you want, but you stare at it like it’s oxygen, because without it you’re just another entitled guy with a chip on his shoulder and a mouth that writes checks his reality can’t cash. At Inception VIII, you’re going to learn the difference between wanting to be the man and being the man! And when you reach for everything, you’re going to find out the only thing you’re taking away is your own excuses!
That being said, Carter grabs the contract and the pen and scrawls his name on the dotted line, slamming the folder closed.
Alexander jumps to his feet and in one violent motion he flips the table over! The contract folder skids across the canvas as the chairs scrape and topple, and Evelyn Hall throws herself out of harm’s way, backing off fast with her hands up. Carter explodes to his feet at the same time, narrowly missing the edge of the table as it crashes down! He turns, eyes blazing, chest heaving as he squares up with Raven in the wreckage. The two men surge toward each other, words lost under the roar, body language screaming fight, and for a split second it looks like Boulder is about to get a preview of the World Title match right here and now until security floods the ring! A swarm of SCW officials wedges between them, arms hooked around shoulders and waists, forcing Carter back toward one corner and shoving Raven toward the opposite side! The crowd erupts in furious boos, raining down noise and disappointment as both men strain forward, reaching over bodies to get at each other, snarling and jawing across a wall of suits and muscle.
Simone: This is exactly why Inception VIII is going to be combustible, because you can feel it! Carter and Raven don’t just want to win the World Heavyweight Championship, they want to take something out of each other that a pinfall can’t replace! Look at them! Security can barely hold them back right now, and in that match there won’t be anyone to separate them, no one to pull them apart, no table to hide behind, no contract to stand between them! Just the World Heavyweight Title and two men who are ready to tear the entire foundation down to claim it!
Lunam: Wow, Belinda, we have an interesting match to open Climax Control tonight. Brayden Hilton got himself in a bind after he went off on nearly everyone on the roster. Now he has to face Anthrax who is a wrestler beyond explanation.
Referee Jasmine St. John walks to the center of the ring and she gives a stern look at both Braydon and Anthrax then she motions for the two of them to join her in the center of the ring. When Anthrax and Braydon stand next to her Referee St. John informs the two that this match has been scheduled by Sin City Wrestling General Manager Evelyn Hall due to both Braydon and Anthrax having a major altercation at a previous event. Referee St. John further states that although this is not classified as a Hardcore Rules match she is going to give a lot of leeway in the match. Referee St. John asks if either of them have questions concerning the match and both state they are okay with the match rules and stipulations. Referee St. John tells both wrestlers to return to their corners and to come out fighting when they hear the bell from the Timekeeper.
A camera comes up on Alexandra in the backstage area, the announcements for Inception VIII had been released, Alexandra was getting a rematch against Alicia Lukas. The excitement that should have been on her face was replaced with a cold stare, the face of a woman who was right on that precipice of burning it all down. With LJ currently hurt and her own inner demons, Alexandra was clearly ready to destroy anyone within her path. She stares into the camera, breathing slow, measured.
Alexandra: Alicia, you had my number last time, I won’t lie. You pushed me to the limits and it was right there. Just took a misstep and you got me. But it won’t work this time.
She swallows. Her jaw tightens.
Alexandra: Because I’ve been thinking about that night. About that feeling in my chest when the ref’s hand hit three. I told myself it was fine. That I’d learn from it. Grow from it.
She laughs and it comes out wrong. It's sharp and broken.
Alexandra: Grow from it.
She stops, runs a hand through her hair, pacing now.
Alexandra: No. No, no, no.
Alexandra turns back to the camera, eyes darker.
Alexandra: You don’t get to take that from me and walk away like it was just another win. Take what happened to Victoria on Climax Control last week as evidence of that. She had continuously taken things from me and I finally took something from her.
Her voice rises, cracks for a split second, then hardens.
Alexandra: I wake up pissed off. I go to sleep pissed off. Everytime I close my eyes, I see you standing over me like you proved something.
She steps forward and suddenly SLAMS her hand into a nearby crate. The sound echoes backstage.
Alexandra: YOU DIDN’T PROVE A DAMN THING!
Alexandra’s breathing spikes. The camera operator shifts. She doesn’t care.
Alexandra: You caught me trying to be patient. You caught me trying to hold everything together while everything around me was falling apart!
She jabs a finger at her own chest.
Alexandra: That was your mistake.
Her voice is louder now. Unfiltered.
Alexandra: You think I’m angry because I lost?
She shakes her head violently.
Alexandra: I’m angry because you made me realize restraint is a liability.
She leans into the lens, eyes wild.
Alexandra: I am done holding back. I am done playing the part. I am done worrying about what happens after.
Another sharp breath. Her hands are shaking.
Alexandra: At Inception VIII, I don’t care about the title. I don’t care about the record. I don’t care if the ref has to pull me off you.
She stops herself mid-sentence. A twisted smile crosses her face.
Alexandra: You wanted the best version of me?
She whispers now, deadly calm.
Alexandra: You’re getting the best one.
Alexandra steps back abruptly, shoving past the camera as it struggles to keep up.
Alexandra: And Alicia?
Her voice echoes as she walks off.
Alexandra: When I snap in that ring, don’t beg me to stop.
With that she shoves the crate she had slammed her hands down on earlier and it rolls away, bouncing off a wall.
Alexandra: See you at Inception VIII.
With that she walks away, fading into the darkness.
The scene opens backstage where we see Cassie Wolfe warming up ahead of her hardcore match with Kayla.
Cassie: Everyone’s so eager to kiss the new regime’s ass, yet the moment one person calls them out on their bullshit? Suddenly I’m in he wrong?
Cassie shakes her head.
Cassie: And don’t act like this Hardcore Match isn’t retaliation because Christian got his feelings hurt, I mean come on, I just happen to be thrown into a Hardcore Rules Match with a former World Bombshell Champion after I spent weeks pointing out how full of crap Christian is when he thinks that Candy being a former champ is enough reason to book her for two PPVs in a row when me, who’s been busting her ass all year, gets left off one Supercard and nearly gets screwed out of a High Stakes Paycheque.
Cassie scoffs.
Cassie: Title reigns that no one remembers SHOULDN’T FUCKING MATTER! You know what should matter? Someone who actually puts in the fucking effort and not a former champion who’s been half assing everything since she came back!
Cassie starts to walk off.
Cassie: And as for Kayla? If this is a punishment then allow me to leave you with egg on your face.
Cassie walks off as the scene fades.
The camera opens backstage in the office for SCW General Manager, Evelyn Hall. With her hands clasped on the desk in front of her, Evelyn looks straight into the camera with a business-like demeanor.
Evelyn: Good evening everyone, and I do hope that you're enjoying this night of top notch wrestling entertainment. I won't take up too much of your time, as I have a simple announcement to address one Eddie Lyons. Just this past Sunday, Eddie issued a challenge to Brayden Hilton to a Lyons Den match for Inception VIII on January 11 of 2026. I am here to announce that I received word from Brayden's team that he has indeed accepted, and that match will take place on the first SuperCard event of 2026. That is all, and I do hope everyone enjoys the remainder of their evening.
The camera closes out.
Justin Decent stands in the center of the ring to announce the upcoming contest.
Justin: The following match is scheduled for one fall!
The arena lights dim.
“I will kill your dreams.”
Bad Omens’ “Like a Villain” hits as the lights flash between darkness and sharp bursts of red and deep purple. Kayla Richards steps through the curtain wearing her black-and-purple gear beneath a black leather jacket, long hair loose, expression completely vacant. She walks toward the ring with deliberate precision, ignoring the reaction of the crowd entirely.
Kayla runs and slides onto the apron on one knee, then steps between the ropes. She raises her hands to form the “K,” turns it into a double bird, then shifts into finger guns aimed at the crowd.
Justin: From Norwich, East Anglia, England! Weighing one hundred and twenty-eight pounds! KAYLA RICHARDS!
The boos rain down as Kayla removes her jacket and drapes herself casually against the ropes, eyes never leaving the entrance ramp.
Simone: Kayla Richards does not look like someone here to make a statement. She looks like someone here to collect one.
Lunam: This is a woman who thrives when people underestimate the violence she brings.
Cassie Wolfe’s music hits next.
“Wolf Within” blasts through the speakers as Cassie bursts onto the stage, energy spilling out of her. Joshua Acquin follows close behind, clapping encouragement. Cassie spins at the announcement, throws up the metal horns, and slaps hands with fans as she makes her way down the ramp.
Justin: And her opponent, accompanied by Joshua Acquin! From Greenock, South Australia, now residing in Las Vegas, Nevada! “The Rebel Princess”… CASSIE WOLFE!
Cassie hops onto the apron, flips her hair, removes her leather jacket, and hands it to a stagehand before springing over the top rope. She rolls to her knees in the center of the ring, soaking in the reaction before rising and locking eyes with Kayla.
Simone: Cassie Wolfe asked for this. Tonight she finds out if she was ready.
Referee Jasmine St. John checks both competitors and signals for the bell.
DING DING DING!
Kayla steps forward immediately, cutting the ring in half. Cassie circles, light on her feet, testing angles. Cassie darts in first with a quick dropkick to the knee, forcing Kayla to take a half step back. Cassie follows with an arm drag, then another, keeping momentum on her side.
Kayla absorbs it, rises, and answers with a stiff knife-edge chop across Cassie’s chest. Cassie winces but fires back with a forearm of her own. Kayla responds with two more, backing Cassie into the corner before snapping off a running corner dropkick that rattles the turnbuckles.
Cassie stumbles out and snaps a hurricanrana, sending Kayla rolling through. Cassie springs up and hits the ropes, rebounding into a flying clothesline that knocks Kayla down to one knee. Cassie does not hesitate, throwing a quick dropkick to the shoulder and forcing Kayla to retreat toward the ropes.
Lunam: Cassie’s speed is giving her openings early. She is not backing down.
Cassie keeps moving, refusing to let Kayla settle. She connects with a snap suplex, rolls through, and hits a second that finally puts Kayla flat on her back. Cassie floats into a cover.
ONE!
Kayla kicks out.
Cassie stays aggressive, grabbing a front facelock and grinding Kayla down to the mat, forcing her to carry weight. Cassie shifts her grip into a short arm control, twisting at the wrist and elbow, trying to keep Kayla from planting and striking. Kayla grimaces, boots scraping as she tries to rise. Cassie leans her weight forward, pressing the shoulder down and making Kayla work for every inch.
Kayla powers up anyway, shoving Cassie off with a burst of strength. Cassie pops back to her feet and tries to re-engage, but Kayla steps in and cracks another knife-edge chop that echoes through the building. Cassie doubles slightly, and Kayla surges forward with repeatable forearms, each one snapping Cassie’s head back a little further. Cassie blocks one and answers with a superkick that staggers Kayla into the ropes. Cassie charges to follow, but Kayla snaps a knee into Cassie’s midsection and folds her in place.
Kayla pulls Cassie in by the head and drills a sharp sitout jawbreaker that drops her to the canvas. Kayla does not allow space. She drags Cassie up by the wrist and whips her into the corner, then follows with a running corner dropkick that stuns Cassie against the turnbuckles. Cassie stumbles forward, and Kayla drives a rolling knee drop across the shoulder, then another across the upper back, grinding Cassie down and forcing the fight into Kayla’s preferred tempo.
Kayla covers.
ONE!
TWO!
Cassie kicks out.
Kayla sits up with an expression of mild annoyance, as if Cassie’s resilience is an inconvenience. She grabs Cassie by the hair, stands her up, and fires a series of short martial arts kicks into Cassie’s thigh and ribs. Cassie tries to step away, but Kayla catches her with a roaring elbow that snaps her backward into the ropes.
Simone: This is where Kayla Richards starts to make the match miserable.
Kayla pulls Cassie off the ropes and snaps her down with a quick snapmare. Cassie lands seated, and Kayla drives a soccer kick to the upper back, then a second to the shoulder blade. Cassie rolls away, clutching at her back, and Kayla follows, stomping the arm before dragging Cassie up again. Kayla hooks Cassie’s head and looks for a short Shiranui style drop, but Cassie spins out and shoves Kayla away, buying a fraction of breathing room.
Cassie hits the ropes and ducks a roaring elbow, then fires back with a sudden flying forearm that knocks Kayla off balance. Cassie builds speed, hits the ropes again, and snaps a dropkick to the chest that sends Kayla stumbling into the corner. Cassie rushes in, leaping to connect with a running corner strike, then backs up and hits another dropkick, this time catching Kayla across the jaw and shoulder.
The crowd responds as Cassie finds rhythm. Cassie sprints and launches through with a suicide dive, crashing into Kayla at ringside and driving her into the barricade. Cassie pops up and slaps the barricade, adrenaline surging as the crowd roars along with her.
Cassie grabs Kayla by the wrist and tries to roll her back in quickly, but Kayla resists, pulling Cassie forward and shoving her into the apron. Cassie catches herself before impact is too severe, then answers with a quick forearm that staggers Kayla long enough for Cassie to slide her back into the ring.
Cassie climbs to the top rope quickly and launches into a moonsault. Kayla rolls at the last possible moment.
Cassie lands on her feet but stumbles on the landing. Kayla immediately targets the base with a martial arts kick to the thigh, then another, chopping Cassie down to one knee. Kayla follows with a leaping calfkick to the side of Cassie’s head, sending her rolling toward the corner.
Kayla presses her advantage, driving Cassie face-first into the turnbuckles and unloading with sharp kicks to the body. The referee steps in, forcing a break, but Kayla sneaks in one last forearm before backing off.
Lunam: Kayla Richards is dissecting her now. Every strike has a purpose.
Cassie pulls herself up using the ropes and fires back suddenly with a step-up enzuigiri that catches Kayla flush. Cassie follows with a second enzuigiri, forcing Kayla to retreat a step. Cassie seizes the opening, climbing quickly to the second rope and launching with a springboard knee strike that snaps Kayla’s head back and drops her to the mat.
Cassie hits the ropes and connects with a leg lariat that flattens Kayla. She hooks the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Kayla kicks out.
Cassie does not waste time. She drags Kayla up immediately and snaps her down with a quick DDT. Cassie rolls through on instinct, scrambling into another cover and hooking the far leg tightly, almost falling into it.
ONE!
TWO!
Kayla jerks a shoulder up at the last possible moment.
The crowd reacts sharply, a sudden swell of noise as Cassie sits back on her heels, eyes wide, disbelief flashing across her face for just a heartbeat.
Simone: That was pure instinct. Cassie almost stole it right there.
Lunam: Almost does not count against someone like Kayla Richards.
Cassie shakes it off and pulls Kayla up again, trying to keep pressure on her before Kayla can reset. Cassie attempts a standing suplex, but Kayla hooks a leg and blocks it. Cassie tries again, gritting her teeth, then switches tactics and snaps an arm drag to keep Kayla moving. Cassie follows with a sharp dropkick to the knee and another quick kick to the inner thigh, trying to soften Kayla’s stance the same way Kayla targeted her earlier.
Kayla responds with a sudden eye rake while the referee is repositioning. Cassie recoils, blinking hard, and Kayla drives a stiff forearm that sends Cassie stumbling into the ropes. Kayla grabs Cassie by the back of the head and slings her down with a running bulldog, then immediately rolls Cassie over and hooks the arm for a dragon sleeper attempt.
Cassie fights hands, twisting at the wrist to keep Kayla from threading it fully. Kayla adjusts into a tight body lock, squeezing Cassie’s ribs and forcing her posture to collapse. Cassie manages to turn her hips and scramble toward the ropes, catching the bottom strand with her fingertips and forcing the break.
Kayla releases at four and steps away with her hands raised, expression calm. Cassie crawls to the corner, breathing hard, one hand pressed to her ribs.
Simone: That right there is the difference. Cassie survives the hold, but Kayla stays composed. No panic. No frustration. Just pressure.
Kayla advances again, stalking. Cassie tries to slip past her along the ropes, but Kayla cuts her off and throws a knife-edge chop that staggers Cassie into the corner. Kayla follows with a series of sharp kicks to the thigh, then the ribs, then the thigh again. Cassie tries to fire back with a forearm, but Kayla answers with a roaring elbow that drops Cassie to a knee. Kayla grabs Cassie’s wrist and yanks her into center ring, looking for another decisive strike, but Cassie pops up and snaps a quick hurricanrana out of desperation, sending Kayla sliding across the mat. Cassie rises, favoring her ribs, and hits the ropes, looking for a dropkick. Kayla swats it away with a step forward and a kick to the midsection, stopping Cassie’s momentum cold.
Kayla whips Cassie into the corner and charges. Cassie slips out at the last second, and Kayla hits the turnbuckles hard enough to jolt her shoulder. Cassie takes advantage, launching a quick running soccer kick to the face of a seated Kayla, then dragging her up and drilling a brainbuster.
Cassie falls into the cover, hooking the leg tightly.
ONE!
TWO!
Kayla kicks out.
Cassie sits up, wincing, then pounds the mat once in frustration before pulling herself to her feet. She drags Kayla upright and attempts Heir to the Wolfe, but Kayla shifts her weight and twists free, shoving Cassie into the corner. Kayla charges in. Cassie slips out at the last second and snaps another step-up enzuigiri. Kayla stumbles sideways, momentarily disoriented, and Cassie climbs quickly to the top rope. The crowd rises as Cassie turns her back to the ring, steadying herself with a tight grip on the turnbuckles. Cassie launches for the Coronation. Kayla rolls just enough. Cassie crashes hard to the mat, clutching her ribs as the momentum of the match turns sharply. Kayla rises, eyes cold, breath steady. She steps forward and drives a brutal V-Trigger straight into Cassie’s face.
DREAMKILLER.
Cassie collapses to her knees, stunned, trying to blink her way back into focus. Kayla steps behind her, locks in the body hold, and threads her arm under the chin.
Ghostlock.
Cassie fights immediately, hands clawing at Kayla’s forearm, boots scraping against the canvas. She reaches for the ropes, but Kayla drags her backward and sits deep into the hold, tightening it deliberately. Cassie’s legs kick once, then again, but the leverage is wrong and the body lock keeps her trapped in the center.
Lunam: This is exactly where Kayla Richards wants her.
Cassie’s movements slow. Her hand trembles, then slaps the mat.
TAP! TAP! TAP!
The referee calls for the bell.
DING DING DING!
Kayla releases instantly and rises to her feet.
Justin: Here is your winner by submission… KAYLA RICHARDS!
Kayla stands over Cassie briefly, expression unreadable, then raises the “K” toward the crowd and exits the ring without looking back. Joshua slides in to check on Cassie as she sits up slowly, disappointed but defiant.
Simone: Cassie Wolfe proved she belongs in this division.
Lunam: Kayla Richards proved she is still one of the most dangerous women in SCW.
The scene opens backstage at Climax Control where we see Harper Mason ready for an interview with Ms. Rocky Mountains.
Ms. Rocky Mounntains: Harper, last week you cost Victoria Lyons her match against Alexandra Callaway…………..
Harper: Not to go all “uh, ACTUALLY” on you Rocky but I only stopped Darian from interfering, Victoria’s inability to focus did her in.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Right, right of course, but that said, you’re not worried?
Harper: Worried about what? Victoria trying to kill me? Because I cost her one match? Did she forget that I cost her the match with Frankie Holliday and last I checked?
Harper checks her pulse.
Harper: I’m not Dirt Nap Ready yet.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Dirt nap ready?
Harper: My dad was friends with the base’s medic when he served in the army, it’s basically saying “patient has a Do Not Resuscitate Order”.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Right! So you think Victoria’s full of it?
Harper: I know she is.
Harper walks off as the scene fades.
The camera returns to ringside with Justin Decent.
Justin: Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome once again, the one and only … Amanda Hugginkiss!
The crowd cheers as Amanda walks out onto the stage in a comical Mrs. Claus outfit. The crowd greets her once again with cheers and applause as she kicks off a fresh performance for the entertainment of the SCW Universe!
Amanda: Well it’s Christmas Eve and I’m feelin’ divine,
I got glitter in my eggnog and a mistletoe line.
Then the wind starts blowin’ and I hear those calls,
Everybody whisperin’ ‘bout Frosty’s snow balls.
He’s struttin’ down the sidewalk in a tall top hat,
Got a candy-cane cane and he’s workin’ it splat.
Every elf stops dancin’, every reindeer stalls,
When Frosty starts jinglin’ those big snow balls.
Oh, Frosty’s got big snow balls,
Rollin’ round the town, deckin’ all the halls.
When he shakes ‘em left, when he shakes ‘em right,
He’s the coolest queen on a cold, cold night.
No, we’re not bein’ rude, we’re just havin’ a ball,
It’s a family show, don’t you overthink at all.
Just clap, ho-ho, when the icicles fall,
And sing about Frosty and his big snow balls! ??
He’s got two round friends made of pure white fluff,
You can roll ‘em down a hill if you like it rough.
He’s a snowstorm sweetheart with those frosty hauls,
Dragging that sleigh with his jolly snow balls.
I said, “Frosty, honey, how you stay so chill?”
He said, “I keep it cool and I roll with skill.”
From the North Pole runway to the shopping malls,
He’s serving winter fashion with his matching snow balls.
Yeah, Frosty’s got big snow balls,
Sparklin’ like ornaments on eight-foot walls.
When he spins around, hear the audience scream,
He’s a frosty, glossy, snow-queen dream.
Now don’t be shy, we can all have a laugh,
It’s just two snow globes in a snowman’s path.
So ring those bells as the fake tan falls,
And cheer for Frosty and his big snow balls!
“Now listen, children…
If your mind went naughty, that’s your own brain’s fault.
We’re just talkin’ snow… perfectly round, perfectly seasonal…
Don’t you love a big, round… holiday spirit?”
They’re kid-safe, snowflake, winter wonderland size,
Rated G from every angle, but they still mesmerize.
So if Santa asks what you want most of all,
Say, “Roll me a Frosty with some extra snow balls.”
He’s hostin’ Christmas bingo with the carol choir,
Roasting chestnuts like a snowman squire.
Every time he giggles, every time he sprawls,
You hear a sleigh bell jingle from his jolly snow balls.
The children build their snowmen in the front-yard glow,
Two little snow balls in a perfect row.
Mama winks at Papa as the moonlight falls,
“Looks like Frosty’s cousin got his own snow balls…”
Oh, Frosty’s got big snow balls,
Rollin’ down Main Street, answerin’ snow calls.
Silver tinsel lashes and a peppermint pout,
He’s the frosty diva everybody shouts about.
If your cheeks turn red when the snowfall stalls,
Just blame it on cocoa and decked-out walls.
We’re keepin’ it clean, we’re just havin’ a drawl,
Singin’ ‘bout Frosty and his big snow balls!
“Happy holidays, darlings…
May your tree be lit, your cocoa be hot,
And your Frosty… have very impressive snow balls.”
The performance draws to an end and the crowd cheers and applauds as Amanda prances across the stage to blow kisses to one and all before vanishing behind the curtains!
The camera cuts back to the ring where Belinda Simone and Erik Lunam stand side by side, the crowd still buzzing after last week’s brutal events.
Simone: Last week, we witnessed one of the most disturbing attacks in recent SCW history when Bulldog Bill Barnhart ambushed LJ Kasey before the bell and left him laid out on the concrete.
Lunam: We’ve all been waiting to hear how LJ is doing, and tonight, we finally have an update.
The lights dim slightly as the massive video board all around the arena flickers to life, the biggest one by the entrance. LJ Kasey appears on-screen. He’s seated, dressed simply in a black hoodie, neck taped but no brace, posture upright. His eyes are tired, but focused. The crowd erupts into cheers at the sight of him.
Simone: LJ, first of all, it’s good to see you on your feet. Everyone’s been asking the same question, how are you holding up after what Bill Barnhart did to you last week?
LJ nods once, measured.
LJ: I won’t sugarcoat it, Belinda, last week was hell. Getting spiked on concrete isn’t something you just shake off overnight. I was banged up, I was sore, and yeah....it scared a lot of people who care about me.
He pauses, then lifts his chin slightly.
LJ: But here’s the important part, I’ve been evaluated practically around the clock. I’ve been cleared for light training already, and if everything stays on track, I’m expected to be fully cleared to compete next week on Climax Control 445.
The crowd cheers loudly.
Lunam: That’s huge news. But LJ, knowing what Bill Barnhart is capable of, are you sure jumping back in this soon is the right call?
LJ’s jaw tightens just a little.
LJ: Erik, Bill Barnhart didn’t attack me because he thought I wasn’t ready. He attacked me because he knew I was. Barnhart knows that he couldn’t beat me in a ring even on my worst day. So he tried to end me by jumping me from behind and then had the audacity to feign innocence that he was doing it for the greater good.
LJ leans forward slightly, eyes hard.
LJ: That told me everything I needed to know.
Simone: We mentioned earlier that your brother, Miles Kasey, faces Barnhart this week. What’s going through your mind watching that unfold?
A faint, dangerous smile appears.
LJ: What’s going through my mind...is patience. Because this week? Bill has to deal with Miles. And whatever anger, frustration, and history my brother’s been carrying, not just from what Bill’s said about me, but about this entire generation....Bill gets all of it.
He nods slowly.
LJ: And no matter what comes from all of that tonight, comes Inception.
The crowd reacts strongly at the mention of the event.
LJ: Provided there’s anything left of the Bulldog after Miles gets his hands on him....I’m finishing what Bill started. There is going to be no ambushes, no cheap shots and absolutely no excuses. Just him and me and the end of this obsession with “teaching lessons.”
LJ’s voice lowers, calm but final.
LJ: Bill Barnhart wanted respect....What he earned was consequences. At Inception, I promise you this, the “Bulldog” gets put down once and for all.
He leans back slightly, expression steady.
LJ: I’ll see you soon.
The screen cuts to black. The crowd roars as Belinda and Erik stand visibly affected.
Simone: WELL...Strong words from LJ Kasey and a clear warning to “Bulldog” Bill Barnhart.
Lunam: First Miles this week...then LJ at Inception in just a few weeks. Bill Barnhart may have started a war he can’t possibly survive.
Lunam: Wow, Belinda, we’ve got a proper clash here! Eddie Lyons and Alexander Raven, and neither man’s comin’ in with the kind o’ patience that leads ta’ a friendly handshake.
Simone: And with Raven headed toward the biggest match of his career at Inception VIII, Erik, he’s not here to play games. Eddie Lyons is proud, he’s relentless, and if Raven thinks he can coast through this, he’s going to learn very quickly that Lyons doesn’t allow anyone to coast.
Lunam: Aye, but Raven’s a different breed. Cold, calculated, and when he gets his hands on ye, he doesn’t let go easy.
Simone: Then let’s see if he can handle someone who refuses to stay down.
Justin: This match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first… hailing from Baltimore, Maryland… EDDIE LYONS!
“Clouds” by NF hits,and the stage immediately vanishes behind a rolling curtain of fog. Through the haze, Eddie Lyons appears dead center, hoodie up, arms folded, posture still as stone. He stares down at the ring for a long beat, like he’s measuring the distance between here and whatever pain is about to happen.
Then,Eddie fires a fist into the air. He drops the hood back, and strides down the ramp with purpose, tagging a few hands along the barricade without ever losing that locked-in look. He takes the steps, enters the ring, and spreads his arms wide to each side,then drops to a knee and punches the canvas, the impact echoing through the arena. Eddie rises and backs into his corner, eyes forward, waiting.
Justin: And his opponent… hailing from Melbourne, Victoria, Australia… being accompanied to the ring by Luna Pasilno… ALEXANDER RAVEN!
The opening riff of “Kafka” by Jinjer sears through the speakers and the lights turn a deep, dark blue, hazy, almost underwater. Smoke billows from the entranceway, spilling down the ramp until the entire top of the stage looks like a storm cloud waiting to break.
Alexander Raven bursts from the smoke, eyes wide and unblinking, his expression drawn and stoic. He sweeps his gaze across the crowd with the calm of a man who doesn’t care if they cheer or hate him, only that they watch. His hand extends out to the side.
Luna Pasilno steps through the fog and takes his hand. Together, they walk down the ramp slowly,hand in hand,Raven’s focus sharpened, Luna’s presence steady at his side like an anchor.
At the apron, they release. Raven steps up, then turns back to Luna. They lock eyes. Raven slips backward through the ropes without breaking that gaze, like an unspoken promise carried in silence. Luna circles to ringside and takes her place nearby.
Raven settles in the middle of the ring, shoulders squared, eyes still cutting toward Luna for the briefest heartbeat,then snapping to Lyons.
DING DING DING!
Raven and Lyons circle, cautious and deliberate,two predators gauging the first mistake. They inch in, tease a tie-up, break, reset. Another faint touch, another break. The crowd grows louder with every second of tension.
Simone: Slow and methodical start here… which suits both men, but Lyons knows he can’t give Raven too much time to think.
Lunam: Aye, but Raven’s happy ta’ live in this space,he’ll turn a single mistake into a long night.
They finally lock fingers and hands,Lyons tries to secure the second arm, but Raven twists it, snapping Eddie’s wrist back and forcing the release. Raven shoots behind for a waist grab, but Lyons catches the arm, torques it, and spins,hammerlock applied, tight and controlled. Raven’s mouth pulls into a grimace as he tests the pressure and starts hunting for an exit.
Raven reaches around for a head control counter,Lyons adjusts, clamping down into a wrist lock. Raven shifts again, rotates his hips, slips into his own hammerlock position,then snakes an arm around Lyons’ head, seizing a moment of leverage. Raven yanks Lyons’ wrist behind his back and straightens the arm with a sharp pull,then releases the head control and grabs the other arm, dragging it back to stretch Eddie’s shoulders wide.
Simone: Raven’s trying to solve Lyons like a puzzle,twists, traps, transitions,he’s not rushing anything.
Lyons shakes his head, refusing to show pain, but Raven cranks hard,then flips Lyons onto his back with a slick shift of weight. Raven sits Lyons up, hooks Eddie’s arms back, and leans into him, shoulder pressure driving down like a vice. Raven threads Lyons’ hands behind his knees,pinning his arms in place,and starts firing forearm shots to the head, sharp and brutal. Raven changes levels and starts cracking Eddie across the chest,thuds echoing through the building,then rolls him sideways and back into a quick pin attempt!
Lunam: Raven’s pinned Lyons’ hands and he’s batterin’ him,forearms to the head, then right across the chest,no mercy!
ONE!
TWO!
THR,
KICKOUT!
Simone: Lyons kicks out just in time!
Raven looks annoyed and says something to the referee,just long enough for Lyons to roll away to the ropes and sit up, rubbing his head and chest. Raven steps forward, but Lyons throws up a hand, demanding space. The referee slides between them. Raven shakes his head, annoyed, but backs off. They circle again. Lock-up,Raven snaps into a headlock and drops to a knee, wrenching tight. Lyons digs his feet, pushes upward, and tries to shove Raven into the ropes,Raven keeps the headlock, drops again, and Lyons hits the mat with a frustrated slap.
Lunam: Raven’s makin’ him carry that headlock,every time Lyons tries ta’ shove him off, Raven just sinks down and tightens it.
Lyons fires a punch into Raven’s stomach,another,then shoves him hard toward the ropes. Raven rebounds and BLASTS Lyons with a shoulder block, knocking Eddie to the mat. Raven drops on him for a pin, quick and confident
ONE!
KICKOUT!
Simone: Lyons kicks out immediately, but Raven is keeping him grounded.
Raven grabs Eddie around the head and takes him down again,Lyons reacts fast, swinging his legs up and around Raven’s head into a tight headscissors. Raven grabs at Eddie’s legs, trying to pry free,Lyons clamps down and squeezes, forcing Raven to shift his base. Raven rocks side-to-side, then rises to his knees and finally pops his head free. He swings wildly,Lyons ducks it and springs up, both men back on their feet, the crowd rising with them.
Simone: Lyons avoided that swing,now the pace is starting to change.
Raven charges,Lyons throws a sharp elbow up and catches Raven flush in the face! Raven stumbles back, hands up, eyes narrowing,he glances quickly to Luna like he’s checking a compass,then storms forward again. Lyons drives a boot into Raven’s stomach, doubles him over, then snaps a knee upward that pops Raven’s head back. Lyons follows with a punch to the gut and a brutal European uppercut that rocks Raven sideways!
Lunam: Lyons is lightin’ him up now,elbow, boot, knee, punch, and that uppercut just rattled Raven!
Lyons grabs Raven’s wrist and whips him into a short-arm clothesline,Raven drops to a knee,Lyons takes a step back, measures him, and SLAMS a running knee right into Raven’s face!
Simone: The Mane Kick! Raven is in trouble!
Raven drops sideways, stunned. Luna’s body language at ringside shifts instantly,concern sharp on her face as she calls for the referee to check him. The referee steps in, asking Raven if he can continue.
And then,movement at ringside. A figure in a black hoodie vaults the barricade and lands on the apron in one smooth motion. Lyons turns,just a fraction too late,
SPRINGBOARD FLYING FOREARM!
The hooded figure crashes into Lyons and drops him to the mat! The attacker immediately bails,slipping away from the ring as the crowd explodes into shocked noise.
Lunam: WHO THE HELL IS THAT?!
Simone: Somebody just flattened Eddie Lyons with a springboard forearm!
Raven shoves past the referee like the pain never existed,pounces on Lyons and locks in a bulldog choke, cinched in deep!
Lunam: Raven’s got The Conspiracy locked in!
Lyons, rattled and barely aware after the shot, doesn’t even find the space to fight it. His hand flutters,then slaps the mat.
DING DING DING!
Simone: Lyons taps out!
Raven keeps the choke in for a few extra seconds,long enough to make a point,then releases and rises to his feet. Luna slides into the ring, standing beside him with a small, satisfied smile as Raven’s music hits.
Justin: Winner of this match via submission… ALEXANDER RAVEN!
Raven lifts an arm in victory,cold, calm, and unbothered,while the crowd buzzes in confusion, eyes searching for the attacker. And then the camera catches it: the hooded figure climbing up onto the commentary table. They yank the hood down,
BRAYDEN HILTON.
Lunam: Brayden Hilton! It was Brayden Hilton the whole time,he just screwed Eddie Lyons!
Simone: That’s disgusting! Raven just got handed a finish because Brayden couldn’t resist sticking his nose into business that wasn’t his!
Brayden stands tall on the desk, smirking and soaking in the reaction,boos raining down as he points at the ring like he’s proud of the chaos he caused. Officials and security sprint toward ringside, but Brayden hops down off the table and backs away through the crowd side, laughing as the camera tries to follow him.
Inside the ring, Raven and Luna remain composed. Raven casts one sharp look toward the ramp and then down at Lyons, still recovering. The message is clear: Raven takes the win, and he won’t apologize for how it came.
Camera transitions to the backstage at the CU Events Center in Boulder, Colorado. [Concrete walls. Distant crowd noise rumbling. Miles Kasey stands near a production crate, rolling his shoulders loose. The SCW Internet Championship rests on his shoulder. Draped across the crate is one of his ring jackets. The camera lingers on the back: ATTACK FOR THE NEXT GENERATION. Miles exhales through his nose, then locks eyes with the camera.
Miles Kasey: Bill Barnhart.
He’s not loud, but there’s an edge to his voice that knows he is indeed taking this all very seriously.
Miles: I sat back and listened to your little speech. ...It was real cute by the way. I especially loved the excuses, the self-mythology, the part where you talk about me like I’m some kind of distraction instead of the reason you’re still breathing relevance in this company. In just a few weeks, I will defend the SCW Internet Title against Alex Jones....but that is THEN...this is now. I am more than capable, like every other breathing normal human being, of having multiple focuses at once. The mono-visual, the tunnel is a YOU thing, not mine.
Miles lifts the title slightly, letting it settle back onto his shoulder. He snaps his fingers like he’s just remembering something important.
Miles: BY THE BY, Barnhart. You keep forgetting something, or maybe you’re choosing to forget it. The last time you were anywhere near a title match?
Miles takes a step forward.
Miles: It sure as hell wasn’t because you earned it. It was far more devious than that...it was because I asked for it. I had already beaten your ass, cleanly, in the ring. And instead of leaving your ass where you belonged, which honestly is in the back of the line, fading into the background, I had a momentary slight of weakness....I actually felt bad for you.
He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh.
Miles: It wasn’t exactly my brightest moment but I decided that I should give you another chance you honestly didn’t deserve. I went to our general manager and I went to bat for you. I said to Evelyn, “Give Bill one more shot.” Of course we all know how that turned out and Alex, Eddie and I all had a lot of fun bouncing your fat ass around the ring and I walked out of Violent Conduct with the SCW Internet Championship. And how did you repay my moment of kindness? By jumping my little brother from behind, by running your mouth about younger talent like you’re some gatekeeper instead of a relic and by acting like your words still carry weight when they’ve been overdrafted for years.
Miles reaches for the jacket, lifting it up and turning it so the camera can see the back.
Miles: Attack for the Next Generation. I’ve decided to wear this because I fight for what comes next. You? You attack it because you’re terrified of being replaced.
He carefully places his championship down and carefully slides the jacket over his shoulders, sliding his arms in like it’s an old comfy robe. He flips the collar up and smirks and begins to pace.
Miles: I think one of my favorite things is how you love talking about bio sheets. The whole height and weight situation and honestly recently it hasn’t made a fucking difference when in comes in regards to you. Because you of ALL people should know it’s not the size of the dog in the fight but the size of the fight in the dog. And of course how you loooove to bring up these old stories from your hometown like that means a damn thing in 2025. You love to talk tough but...but your words are always trying to cash checks your ass can’t write. You do it with everyone! You talk and talk and talk and have, on multiple times, made some wild ass claims on shit that is not even completely true! AND everytime someone has attempted to hold you accountable, you pretend like it’s never happened.
He stops pacing and snaps his eyes back to the camera.
Miles: BUT tonight? Tonight, all of those checks come due.
A hand rests on his shoulder. Alexandra Callaway steps into frame beside him, calm and unflinching.
Miles: But hey let’s focus on something else here, Mr. Barnhart. You wanna talk about the supposed cowardice? Let’s talk about last week. What you did to LJ, the way you blindsided him? That was not payback, that was fear.
Miles nods once, then gestures to Ally.
Miles: And since you and Bea are so worried about fairness and so concerned about who and what is legal at ringside...I decided to handle that bit of concern for ya.
Ally produces the folded document. Miles shows it to the camera.
Miles: I called in a few favors and we got a manager’s license. So before you go and throw a fit, in the interest of fairness I went and made sure that Ally’s legal and she will be at ringside. Just so you know there are no excuses when I beat your ass into the dirt tonight.
Ally finally speaks, measured and cold.
Ally: Hey, he wanted it to be fair to the rules and he got it.
Miles steps closer to the camera, voice rising now, anger finally unrestrained.
Miles: I’ve already stated how I promised my brother I’d leave you a little dignity. That promise is the only reason I don’t end your career tonight. But understand this, ‘Bulldog’...tonight you’re paying for everything, for every cheap shot, for every lie. AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, every single fucking time you tried to hold the next generation down so you wouldn’t have to face the truth.
Miles turns on his heels grabs his SCW Internet Championship and flips it on his shoulder, and turns and glares at the camera.
Miles: Tonight, Billy boy? You will be paying it ALL back tenfold.
He pulls the hood up over his head and adjusts the title.
Miles: I know you really didn’t want it but you got my attention. I may be preparing for Inception in just a few weeks but tonight, you got a man that has had enough of the veterans that refuse to let go. Now get your fat ass out to that ring and take what’s coming, like a good little dog.
Miles and Ally turn and walk toward the gorilla position. The camera lingers on the jacket’s back as they disappear through the entrance.
SINGLES MATCH - LYONS DEN
”Unbreakable” Eddie Lyons vs Brayden Hilton
The scene cuts to the backstage area where the dressing rooms for the wrestlers are located. The camera person spots Bill and Bea Barnhart, and their English Bulldog Iris, stepping out of their dressing room and into the hallway. The camera person lets them know they have been assigned to air pre-match comments from Bill for his match against Miles Kasey. Bill thanks the camera person for their time then Bill, Bea, and Iris, start their walk to get to the staging area for Bill’s match.
Bill: We have a very interesting match coming up where I face off against Miles Kasey. This match came about for numerous reasons and I will tell you those reasons as we make our way to the staging area to be ready for my entrance. Take note that Bea is going to ringside with me because she is officially, and legally, my Manager and she has the right to be at ringside during my matches. Bea brought Iris along to be with her at ringside during my match in case my opponent and their thug friends decide to interfere in our match.
Bea: In case you have not been around Sin City Wrestling for very long you may not know that the Kasey family has a history of interfering in the matches of other wrestlers. If you were watching Climax Control 443 you saw that Bill had a match against LJ Kasey and Bill took him out of action quickly and left him lying on the ground which is why Miles Kasey decided to demand to be in a match against Bill. So as the manager for Bill I am in Bill’s corner to ensure nobody from the Kasey family interferes in this match to try to cheat Bill out of a win.
Bill: We will not know who will be the Referee assigned to our match until we step into the ring on Sunday. I hope we get a Referee who is not a coward to stand up to my opponents who love to violate the rules, cheat, and have family members interfere in their matches to get cheap wins. Well, Miles, do you think my comment I just made is amusing? If so then you try to have your family members run in on our match and attack me and you will find out who cane take the other person out of action. Considering that you are defending a Championship soon I would suggest you play it safe so that they will not remove the Championship from you for not showing up for your Title defense match.
Bea: That is all the two of us will say for now. The rest of our talking will be with Bill inside the ring with Miles and with me at ringside with Iris. We will not allow Kasey family members to soil the name of Sin City Wrestling by trying to cheat Bill out of his win over Miles.
Bill, Bea, and Iris, arrive at the staging area and they get into place to make their entrance for the match Bill has against Miles Kasey.
Justin: Your next match is scheduled for one fall. First from Lawrenceville, Georgia, being escorted to the ring by his manager Bea Barnhart, it’s BILL BARNHARTTTTT!!!
Raise Your Glass by Pink hits the speakers and we see Bill Barnhart walk out from the backstage area holding a pink glass chalice in his hand. He is followed by his wife and Manager, Bea Barnhart, who is leading their English Bulldog Iris by a pink leash attached to her pink diamond-studded collar. When the song comes to the lyrics RAISE YOUR GLASS Bill Barnhart raises the chalice into the air. The crowd gives a mixed reaction to Barnhart. The three make their way to the ring where Bill hands the chalice to Bea so she can keep watch on it until the match is over. Bill enters the ring then walks around the ring playing the crowd before settling into a corner.
Justin: His opponent, our current Sin City Wrestling Internet Champion, MILES KASEYYYYYYYY!!!!!!.
Entrance: "Throne" by Bring Me The Horizon hits the speakers—opening with the haunting keys before that first crashing riff. The Arena plunges into darkness. A single spotlight beams down onto the stage as blue and gold lights begin to swirl like a storm forming. The opening instrumental kicks in heavier, and the fans immediately erupt, knowing who’s coming. A slow roll of fog creeps along the ramp, and just as the beat drops—
BOOM!
A burst of golden pyro erupts from both sides of the stage, and Miles Kasey steps through the smoke, hood up, head down. His long jacket flows behind him, the blue and gold design of his gear catching flashes of light like armor under moonlight. The hood casts a slight shadow over his face, but the grin is unmistakable. He pauses at the top of the ramp, slowly raising his head. Camera zooms in on his eyes.
The hook hits: “So you can throw me to the wolves…”
Miles throws his arms out in a wide, defiant pose as a wave of gold and blue pyro explodes behind him, illuminating the arena in heroic brilliance.
“…Tomorrow I will come back, leader of the whole pack!”
He rips the hood down, revealing that confident smirk. Fans are on their feet, feeding off his energy. Stopping at the top of the ramp he waits as Alexandra Calaway makes her way out to the top of the ramp.
Lunam: This one is a clash of generations, styles, and philosophies.
Simone: One night only or not, Alexandra Calaway knows how to guide a dangerous man. Tonight, she’s in Miles corner in a manager capacity, thanks to the quick thinking of our Internet Champion. He scores her a managers license.
Lunam: Cheating is more like it.
Miles starts his slow, swagger-filled walk down the ramp. He slaps a few hands, points out some fans in the crowd, and gives a subtle nod to the camera like "Yeah, this is mine tonight."
At ringside, he climbs the apron with ease, wipes his boots, and leaps over the top rope in one smooth motion. He heads to the turnbuckle, climbing to the second rope. Miles raises a single fist into the air as a final golden spotlight hits him, the crowd roaring behind him. Then he hops down, shrugging off his jacket like it weighs nothing. His eyes lock onto his opponent.
DING DING DING!
Lunam: Ladies and gentlemen, what you’re about to witness is not simply a wrestling match. This is a clash between raw brutality and refined chaos.
Simone: Bill Barnhart is a man who breaks opponents down piece by piece. Miles Kasey is a man who turns momentum into a weapon. Tonight, something has to give.
The bell rings and Bill Barnhart surges forward instantly, not even acknowledging the crowd as he drops low and blasts Miles Kasey’s knee with a vicious shot block. The sound of bone on bone echoes through the arena as Miles collapses, clutching his leg, and Barnhart wastes no time grabbing the arm and wrenching it behind Miles’ back into a tight hammerlock. Bill drives Miles face-first into the mat and leans his full weight down, grinding the shoulder and elbow as if trying to tear the arm from its socket. Miles cries out but refuses to panic, twisting his hips and rolling through the pressure before snapping Bill forward with a sharp Japanese arm drag that sends Barnhart skidding across the canvas. Miles pops up and hits another arm drag, then another, forcing Barnhart to retreat to one knee, surprised at the speed. Miles hits the ropes and comes flying back with a diving crossbody that crushes Barnhart to the mat, the crowd roaring as he scrambles for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
Barnhart powers out, shoving Miles off him with a scowl.
Lunam: That is speed versus strength right there, and Barnhart does not appreciate being put on his back.
Bill rises slowly, stalking forward with menace, and cracks Miles with a forearm that snaps his head back before whipping him hard into the corner. Miles hits chest-first, and Barnhart follows with brutal kicks to the ribs and thighs, each one dull and punishing. Bea Barnhart is at ringside leaning forward, yelling commands and pointing aggressively as Bill drags Miles out of the corner and snaps him down with a bulldog slam that shakes the ring. Bill rolls through the impact, never losing control, and yanks Miles up into a swinging neckbreaker before flowing seamlessly into a calf crusher, sitting deep and wrenching the leg back at an unnatural angle. Miles screams, pounding the mat, his fingers stretching desperately toward the ropes as Alexandra Calaway steps closer, shouting encouragement and pointing toward salvation.
Simone: This is exactly how Bill Barnhart wins matches, slow, deliberate pain.
Miles drags himself inch by inch until his fingertips brush the bottom rope, forcing the referee to intervene. Barnhart holds the pressure until the count reaches four, then releases with visible irritation, standing up and looming over his opponent like a vulture. As Miles struggles to his knees, Barnhart hauls him up and launches him overhead with a belly-to-back suplex, then immediately deadlifts him again for a crushing belly-to-belly suplex that sends Miles rolling toward the ropes in agony. Bea slaps the apron, demanding more, while Alexandra locks eyes with her, refusing to back down.
Barnhart stalks Miles and goes to grab him again, but Miles suddenly explodes with a backdrop suplex that sends Barnhart crashing to the mat. Both men stay down for a moment, the crowd buzzing as Miles forces himself up first, shaking out the pain and firing off an Irish hammer that rocks Bill, followed by a head-grip mat slam that spikes Barnhart on the canvas. Miles sucks in a breath and springs forward with a lung blower that crushes Bill’s ribs, then scrambles to the corner and launches himself back with a double foot stomp directly to Barnhart’s spine.
Lunam: Miles Kasey is fighting through hell just to get moments like this.
Miles dives onto Barnhart for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
Barnhart kicks out hard, sending Miles rolling.
Miles doesn’t hesitate, climbing to the top rope despite the pain in his leg, steadying himself before leaping off with a picture-perfect moonsault that lands flush across Barnhart’s chest. The impact echoes through the arena as Miles hooks the leg again.
ONE!
TWO!
Barnhart kicks out once more, frustration etched across Miles’ face.
As Miles pulls Barnhart up and signals for the Blast from the Past, Bea suddenly jumps onto the apron, shouting and pointing wildly to distract the referee. Alexandra immediately steps between Bea and the ring, holding up her manager’s license and physically blocking her path, arguing heatedly as the referee turns his attention to the confrontation.
Simone: Alexandra Calaway is doing this by the book—she is completely within her rights!
While the officials deal with the managers, Miles launches himself for the Os Cutter—but Barnhart catches him in mid-air and drives him face-first into the mat with a savage bulldog. Bill doesn’t go for the cover. Instead, he circles Miles slowly, then drops to all fours and begins barking, the crowd reacting with a mix of shock and disbelief. Bill bursts forward, sprinting around Miles before leaping and wrapping him up for the bizarre yet devastating belly-to-bulldog suplex, barking all the way through the impact. Bea cheers wildly as Barnhart drags Miles up and drills him straight down with a piledriver that leaves Miles motionless.
Lunam: That might be it. That might have ended him.
Barnhart hooks both legs confidently.
ONE!
TWO!
Miles kicks out, barely, but emphatically.
Barnhart slams the mat in disbelief and immediately rolls Miles over, sitting back into the Barnhart Camel Clutch. He wrenches back violently, applying horrifying pressure to the spine as Miles screams in pain, his face contorted. Bea shouts for Bill to pull harder, while Alexandra pounds the apron, screaming for Miles to fight. Miles claws forward, inch by inch, refusing to quit, until his fingers wrap around the bottom rope. Barnhart holds on until the referee threatens disqualification, finally releasing with a snarl.
Barnhart hauls Miles up again and locks in the sleeper hold, cinching it deep and dragging Miles toward the ropes before whipping him off. As Miles rebounds, he suddenly flips backward with a desperate reverse Frankensteiner that sends Barnhart crashing high on his shoulders. Both men lay sprawled as the crowd roars, sensing the shift. Miles is first to move, firing up with a vertical suplex and then hoisting Barnhart for a standing Spanish Fly that sends both men crashing down in a heap.
Simone: Somehow, Miles Kasey is still standing!
Miles covers.
ONE!
TWO!
Barnhart barely kicks out.
Miles climbs again, pain etched across his face, and launches himself with a breathtaking reverse 450 splash that flattens Barnhart. The crowd explodes as Miles hooks the leg once more.
ONE!
TWO!
Barnhart survives again
Miles staggers back to his feet and calls for the end. He goes for Hail to the Queen, but Barnhart slips free and spikes him with a desperation DDT, then immediately snatches the arm and yanks Miles into the flying hammerlock. Miles screams, fighting the torque, rolling and twisting until he suddenly explodes forward with the Double Edged Sword—Hidden Blade—smashing Barnhart square in the jaw. Bill staggers, glassy-eyed, and Miles seizes the moment, lifting him clean and drilling him with Hail to the Queen, collapsing across his chest.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING DING DING!
The bell rings as Alexandra slides into the ring, helping Miles to his feet while holding Bea back legally as officials swarm the scene. Barnhart lays flat on his back, staring at the lights, beaten but unbroken.
Lunam: Miles Kasey doesn’t just win tonight, he earns it.
Simone: And Bill Barnhart proves that surviving him is a victory in itself.
Miles raises his arms, exhausted but victorious, as Alexandra stands beside him, the one-night manager license having changed everything. Miles turns to Alexandra and the two hug.
Lunam: It seems the team of Miles Kasey and Alexandra Calaway isn’t over.
Simone: I think it has less to do with that and more about the fact that they are practically family.
Lunam: Either way, quite the showing for Miles tonight.
Simone: You can say that again.
Backstage Victoria Lyons is walking alongside her fiance Darian holding her Internet Championship when she's approached by Pussy Willow.
Pussy Willow: Victoria a quick word, we wanted to get your thoughts on Defending Your championship against Harper Mason at Inception.
Victoria and Darian stop, and Victoria gets a smirk on her face and laughs.
Victoria: You want to know what I think? I think Harper Mason is a hypocrite. I'm not upset I have to defend my title against her. I'm upset she continues to be a hypocrite.
Pussy Willow: What do you mean?
Victoria: She interrupted my Championship ceremony and she said she wanted to earn herself a shot at the championship and what happened?
There's a short moment of silence with Victoria acting as though she expected a response.
Victoria: What happened was she lost in her tag match to Mercedes and Crystal, and then she screwed me over in my match with Alexandra Calaway, and now she has a championship match that's what they call earning it?
Victoria shakes her head.
Victoria: I inserted myself in her match with Mercedes and I probably didn't deserve to be there. But I made myself noticeable and I got myself inserted in there anyway, and wouldn't you know it paid off.
She motioned to her championship.
Victoria: But I don't deny that, I took a back door into her match. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do to get ahead, and the ends justify the means. But Harper made a big old statement about earning another shot, and yet was just giving one anyway.
Victoria steps in front of Pussy Willow and looks directly into the camera.
Victoria: Do you know what you would really do if you were honorable Harper? You wouldn't reject this match because you know you haven't earned another opportunity. Maybe you would allow Mercedes to have her deserved rematch because between all of us she's the one that really got screwed over. But you're too selfish for that aren't you?
She smirks arrogantly.
Victoria: You know you haven't earned this opportunity like you said you would. But you're going to take it because you're nothing more than a hypocrite. At least I admit who I am, but you? You're fake Harper, and it's time you get exposed. If you don't reject this match then the whole world will know that you're not as honorable as you say you are.
Pussy Willow: You're not trying to avoid Harper Mason are you?
Victoria scowls and raises and eyebrow.
Victoria: Excuse me?
Pussy Willow: I'm just saying, last time you faced, Harper one on one, in a championship match she took your championship.
Victoria: Who the hell do you think you are?
Pussy Willow: I'm just asking questions and presenting facts.
Victoria: Well you need to watch your tone.
Victoria steps up and glares in Pussy Willow in the eyes but Darian pulls her back.
Darian: Easy babe you don't want to get suspended over her.
Victoria nods and calms herself with an exhale.
Victoria: no you're right Darian she's not worth it I need to keep my eyes focused on Harper the Hypocrite.
Darian: Harper the Hypocrite! That's a good one babe.
Darian laughs.
Victoria: Let's go Dare Bear, we have no more to say here.
The two continue along their way Darian taunts Pussy Willow with a smile and wave as they go.
SINGLES MATCH - DOG COLLAR MATCH
LJ Kasey vs “Bulldog” Bill Barnhart
The arena fades to black as the screen lights up and the SCW Universe is treated to an old-school movie countdown image.
5
4
3
Suddenly the countdown is stopped, claws slash through the image like it’s made of paper, and a cat’s roar rips through the arena. Janet Jackson’s “Black Cat” blasts through the speakers and Seleana Zdunich walks through the entranceway, making her way to the ring and slapping hands along the way as the crowd cheers her on. Zenna trails at her side, hyping her up and feeding off the reaction.
Justin: Making her way to the ring, accompanied by her sister Zenna… she is SELEANA ZDUNICH!
Seleana pauses at the foot of the ramp, eyes cutting toward the ring with that familiar intensity. She rolls her shoulders, breathes in deep, and then slides under the bottom rope, rising to her feet with a focused stare as Zenna claps from the floor.
The lights cut again.
The arena fades to black and, as it does, the screen flickers to an old vintage black-and-white Hollywood-style countdown.
5
4
3
2
1
As soon as it hits zero, two spotlights snap to the curtain. A red carpet is rolled out toward the ring in dramatic fashion, and “Mo Money Mo Problems” by The Notorious B.I.G. hits the speakers at full blast.
A cluster of paparazzi gathers at the curtain, snapping photo after photo in rapid bursts. Then the curtain parts, Crystal Caldwell steps through with Mercedes Vargas at her side. Mercedes smirks and gestures toward Crystal like a ringmaster presenting the star of the show. Crystal strikes a pose as flashbulbs pop, and the fans answer with a roar of boos.
Money, bills with Crystal’s face printed on them, begin to flutter down from above. Crystal soaks in the heat like it’s applause, smiling as Mercedes claps her on. They stroll down the ramp with all the swagger in the world.
Crystal reaches the ring, runs up the steps, and turns on the apron. She throws a final pose, then drops into a perfect split as she slides into the ring. Mercedes remains nearby, clapping and jawing at the fans as Crystal bounces on her toes and screams something sharp into the crowd.
Justin: Making her way to the ring… from Hollywood, California, representing Mexico City, Mexico… being accompanied by Mercedes Vargas… she is “THE SILVER SCREEN QUEEN”… CRYSTAL CALDWELL!
Crystal nods with a wicked grin, eyes locked on Seleana across the ring. Seleana doesn’t blink. Zenna points in and shouts something encouraging. Mercedes barks instructions at Crystal like it’s a movie set and she’s the director.
Referee Jacob Summers steps between them, checks both corners, and calls for the bell.
DING DING DING!
Seleana and Crystal remain in their respective corners as the bell echoes. They only glance at one another, neither woman eager to make the first move. Mercedes jumps onto the apron and screams for Crystal to attack her wife. Seleana turns her head toward Mercedes and slowly shakes it, no. Zenna does the same, hopping onto the apron to urge Seleana that she has to fight.
Lunam: This is a much different start compared to their Ball and Chain match.
Simone: Neither woman really wants to fight the other, and to be honest, I don’t blame them.
Something in Seleana snaps, not at Crystal, but at the noise around them. Seleana storms to Crystal’s side of the ring and blasts Mercedes off the apron with a sharp strike that sends Vargas stumbling to the floor. Crystal whirls and returns the favor, she sprints to Seleana’s side and fires a massive superkick into Zenna, knocking her off the apron and down to the floor. The crowd reacts in a loud, mixed wave, cheers and boos colliding, while the married couple backs away from the edges. They drift toward the center… and bump into one another. Slowly, both women turn. Seleana’s eyes are glassy with tears. Crystal’s lashes catch the light, and there are tears there too. They hold each other’s gaze for a long, painful beat… and then they tie up.
Seleana muscles Crystal into motion, whipping her toward the ropes. Crystal hits, springs back, and uses the rebound like a launching pad, leaping into the air and twisting her body before landing hard on top of Seleana. The crowd boos as Crystal rises, but the look on her face isn’t joy, it’s conflict.
Lunam: Crystal has taken an early advantage in this match.
Simone: From the looks of everything, it seems as if she really doesn’t want to fight her wife.
Crystal keeps her eyes locked on Seleana as she climbs the ropes. Zenna, shaken but stubborn, gets back to her feet and exchanges heated words with Crystal from the floor. Crystal mouths obscenities back, until Seleana pushes up to her feet and climbs after her. Seleana drives fists into Crystal’s face. Crystal staggers on the top rope. Seleana hooks her under an arm, hesitates, then commits, lifting Crystal up and crashing her down with a superplex. Both bodies slam the mat with a thud that shakes the ring.
Seleana drapes over Crystal and hooks a leg, desperate to end it quickly.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Lunam: Seleana almost had the match won!
Simone: Wait a minute, she didn’t kick out!
The cameras catch it, Crystal’s leg is on the bottom rope. Mercedes throws her hands up like she’s innocent, then cracks a grin as the referee waves it off. Zenna charges at Mercedes outside and spears her to the ground. The two start fighting in a messy tangle at ringside. Seleana rises and looks out at the chaos, then turns back toward her wife. Crystal drags herself up. Seleana could pounce, but she waits, passionately, painfully, for Crystal to stand fully upright.
They stare again. Then they circle. Crystal suddenly bursts forward. Seleana leapfrogs over her, spins, and wraps her arms around Crystal from behind.
Lunam: Seleana has been in control of this match from the beginning.
Simone: Despite all of the championships that Crystal may have had throughout her career, she has never beaten her wife in a match.
Seleana heaves, German suplex! Crystal flips and, impossibly, lands on her feet behind Seleana. Crystal fires a dropkick into Seleana’s back, sending her through the ropes. Seleana drops to her knees, tangled on the middle rope, and Crystal sprints, twisting through the ropes to crack Seleana in the face with a 619! Seleana rebounds, Crystal leaps, hooks her legs, and snaps her down with a hurricanrana. Seleana hits the canvas hard. Crystal pops up and rockets to the ropes, springboards backwards, crashing onto Seleana with a moonsault!
Lunam: Smell the Roses!
Simone: This definitely has to be it!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
KICK OUT!!!
Lunam: Somehow, someway, Seleana is able to stay in this match!
Simone: Seleana has so much fight in her, and she is very resilient when against the champion!
Crystal stares at Jacob Summers as he holds up two fingers. Crystal’s expression tightens, frustration and disbelief mixing together. She rises slowly and turns to the booing crowd, signaling that the end is coming. Crystal yanks Seleana up and cinches her into position, hammerlock, arm trapped, Crystal’s grin sharp as a blade. She goes to drop her with That’s A Wrap, Seleana counters! She flips Crystal over her head with a Northern Lights suplex! Crystal slams the mat, stunned, and Seleana springs up, the electricity of the crowd surging through her.
Lunam: Seleana has created an opening!
Simone: And now it’s time to see if she can take every advantage of it!
Mercedes tries to climb onto the apron again, but Seleana has had enough. Seleana blasts Mercedes with a stiff right hand that knocks her right back down. Seleana turns, Crystal is struggling to stand. Seleana hesitates. She doesn’t want to do this. Crystal, breathing hard, looks up at her wife and begs, silent, urgent, come at me with everything. Seleana nods once, tears shining, and pulls Crystal in.
Seleana tucks Crystal under an arm, leaps, then spikes her down with an Asai DDT!
Lunam: Seleana calls that Kattoga, and Crystal is out of it!
Simone: Seleana just needs to hook a leg because the champion looks done!
Seleana crawls, slow and aching, and finally hooks the leg tight.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Crystal kicks out.
The crowd is stunned. Crystal drags herself toward the ropes, clutching at the canvas like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Seleana pushes to her feet, knowing now she has to finish it. Seleana steps on Crystal’s legs, pinning her in place, and threads her body into position, locking Crystal’s legs, turning her over, and cinching in the Shot of Z pin-up strong submission. Seleana yanks back hard on Crystal’s arms as the pressure mounts and the blood rushes to Crystal’s head.
Lunam: Shot of Z, and how much of this can the champion take?!
Simone: I don’t know, but we have a major upset right here in this main event tonight!
Summers asks Crystal if she wants to give up. Crystal shakes her head no, refusing. She screams, gritting through it as Seleana pulls harder. There’s nowhere to go. Summers asks again, Crystal finally breaks, screaming out her verbal submission.
The crowd erupts to its feet as Seleana releases the hold and throws her arms high. Zenna scrambles into the ring, rushing to Seleana’s side and hugging her as the arena roars.
Justin: And the winner of this match… as a result of a submission… SELEANA ZDUNICH!
Crystal rolls out of the ring clutching her arms as Mercedes tries to get to her, still shaken and furious. Inside the ring, Seleana stands tall, breathing hard, eyes shining, while the crowd pours noise down on her in celebration. She has proven, once again, that she belongs in the championship conversation.
The camera remains tight on the six-sided ring as Seleana Zdunich stands near center canvas, breathing hard, her hair slightly disheveled, her eyes wet with emotion. Zenna wraps her arms around her sister and squeezes tight, the two of them rocking slightly as the crowd rains down a roar that feels like it could crack the rafters. Seleana lifts one arm, then both, acknowledging every side of the building. She points to Zenna, then to herself, then to the SCW logo on the mat, making it clear this wasn’t just a win, it was a statement.
On the floor, Crystal Caldwell is still clutching her arms while Mercedes Vargas hovers, furious and frantic, barking at the referee and anyone who will listen. Crystal’s jaw is set as she tries to shake off the pain and humiliation, but the boos follow her all the way toward the ramp as she and Mercedes retreat up the aisle in a storm of anger.
The camera cuts to ringside.
Simone: Boulder, Colorado… what a main event. Seleana Zdunich just submitted the World Champion in the middle of this ring, and you can feel it, this building knows they witnessed something special tonight.
Lunam: Aye, Belinda, that’s the kind o’ win that changes how people walk, how they talk, how they breathe the next time they’re in that locker room. Seleana didn’t steal it, she didn’t fluke it, she earned it, an’ she did it right in front of all o’ you!
Simone: And look at Seleana and Zenna right now. That’s family. That’s pride. That’s the kind of moment that reminds you why this sport can hit you right in the heart.
Cut back to the ring: Seleana climbs a corner turnbuckle and raises both arms high. Zenna circles her like a hyped-up second, clapping and shouting and pointing out into the crowd. Seleana taps her chest and then points outward, mouthing thank you as fans stand, applaud, and wave signs.
Lunam: An’ don’t forget, lads and ladies, this road doesn’t stop here. We are barrelin’ straight into the final edition o’ Climax Control of 2026 next week in Denver, and if tonight proved anythin’, it’s that nobody is safe when the calendar’s runnin’ out.
Simone: That’s right. Next week… Denver. The final Climax Control of 2026. The last stop before the year ends, and you know that means desperation, emotion, and people willing to do anything to walk into the new year with momentum.
Lunam: Ye’ve got grudges boilin’, ye’ve got rivalries ready ta’ explode, an’ ye’ve got wrestlers who’ll tear the doors off the place just ta’ make sure they’re the last name people remember before the clock strikes midnight on the year.
Simone: And we’re not done celebrating the season yet either, because the Christmas episode is coming, holiday chaos, holiday surprises, and Sin City Wrestling doing what it does best: turning tradition into absolute mayhem.
Lunam: Aye! If ye thought tonight was loud, wait ‘til the Christmas episode hits. Ye know SCW doesn’t do “silent night,” Belinda, we do “fight night.”
Simone: So to everyone watching around the world, thank you for spending your night with us. To everyone here in Boulder, you were incredible. For Erik Lunam, I’m Belinda Simone saying goodnight,
Lunam: , an’ we’ll see ye next week in Denver for the final Climax Control of 2026!
The camera returns to the ring one last time. Seleana drops down from the turnbuckle and pulls Zenna into a tight hug. Zenna lifts Seleana’s arm and the two of them turn slowly, presenting themselves to all sides of the arena as the roar swells again.
The shot widens, six-sided ring at center, fans on their feet, signs waving, lights shimmering off subtle holiday décor. Seleana points to the mat, then to the sky, then to Zenna, an unspoken promise that this story isn’t finished.
The SCW logo fades in at the bottom of the screen as the arena noise continues underneath. The image lingers on Seleana and Zenna celebrating, framed by the crowd… and then the screen slowly fades to black.
CREDITS
THANK YOU! To everyone who wrote for this show. Match writers and segments are always appreciated and highly valued! Without all of you, there would be no SCW!