A cold Colorado night hangs over the Denver Coliseum, the kind that puts a bite in your cheeks the second you step out of the car. Spotlights rake the sky in slow, dramatic sweeps, crisscrossing above the building like a beacon for every wrestling fan within a hundred miles. A long, loud, bundled-up line snakes around the exterior—Santa hats, SCW hoodies, face paint, foam fingers—and more than a few people are already chanting even though the doors aren’t quite swallowing them fast enough.
Someone near the front is holding a sign that reads: “LOGAN HUNTER AIN’T ON THE NICE LIST!”
A kid a few spots back is hopping in place, clutching a handmade poster with glittery marker letters: “I CAME FOR THE VIOLENCE AND COCOA!”
The line surges forward in bursts as security wands people through. You can hear the muffled thump of bass from inside every time the doors open, like the building itself has a heartbeat. Vendors hustle along the sidewalk with scarves and knockoff antlers, and a group of fans starts a chant that catches like wildfire even out here in the winter air.
”SCW! SCW! SCW!”
Inside, the world changes. The cold is gone, replaced by heat and noise and that electric buzz that only comes from a packed arena ready to erupt. The camera sweeps across rows upon rows of fans packed shoulder to shoulder, then rises to catch the whole Coliseum in one glorious, roaring shot.
A forest of signs punches up from the crowd.
“FRANKIE HOLLIDAY = COAL!”
“SANTA FEARS VICTORIA LYONS!”
“I WANNA BE UNDER LJ KASEY…’S TREE!”
“I PAID FOR CHAOS!”
“TOYS FOR TOTS RULES!”
“WINTER WONDERSLAM = BEST EVENT OF THE YEAR!”
The cheering is already loud enough to shake the rafters, and the moment the camera finds the ring, the entire place grows even louder—because the six-sided ring has been transformed into a full-on holiday spectacle.
The ropes are Christmas colors, red-white-and-green running bright under the lights. The turnbuckles match, neat and festive like someone took Santa’s workshop and turned it into a fight factory. The mat is clean and boldly decorated with gold accents, while the ring apron glows with rich reds and deep greens, the whole thing looking like a present waiting to be unwrapped in the most violent way possible.
Garland winds around the ropes in shimmering loops, catching the light whenever the camera angle shifts. The ring posts look like they’ve been dressed for a holiday party they didn’t ask to attend. Even the corners feel dressed up, cheery, bright, and completely unprepared for what’s coming.
Standing in the center of it all, owning the spotlight like it owes him money, is the ring announcer Justin Decent. He’s wearing a sexy Santa costume that is absolutely not approved by any conservative North Pole committee with no shirt, a red vest that clings in all the right ways, and red satin booty shorts that leave no doubt he understands exactly what the crowd came to see. The Santa hat sits cocked on his head like a wink as he lifts the microphone with a practiced flourish, letting the noise breathe for a second before he grins like a man about to start trouble on purpose.
Justin: Denver, Colorado! WELCOME to SCW CLIMAX CONTROL!
The crowd explodes again, and the camera catches fists pumping, people screaming, and at least one fan hugging a friend like they’ve just survived something together.
Justin: But tonight is not just Climax Control, oh no! Tonight is something special! Tonight is our very special holiday edition, WINTER WONDERSLAM!
A fresh wave of cheers. Someone in the crowd shakes a sign that reads: “WINTER WONDERSLAM ME, JUSTIN!”
Justin: That’s right, baby, we are at the end of the Road to Inception VIII, and every single person in this building knows what that means!
He paces the ring slowly, letting the words land heavy, soaking in the roar like fuel.
Justin: It means tonight is where the temperature drops and the pressure spikes! It means tonight is where grudges get gift-wrapped, and payback comes with a bow on it!
The crowd roars approval!
Justin: And because we’re closing out the year the right way, let me make this crystal clear! This is the FINAL edition of SCW Climax Control for 2025!
That line hits like a starter pistol. Boos mix with cheers because fans hate endings, even when they love the show.
Justin: But don’t worry—because we are going out loud, proud, and absolutely unhinged!
He points out toward the crowd, sweeping his arm across the arena like he’s drawing a circle around every single person in the building.
Justin: And tonight means something even bigger, because this show benefits TOYS FOR TOTS!
The cheers shift into something warmer—still loud, but with that feel-good edge. The camera finds a few fans holding up Toys for Tots signs and waving like they’re on a parade float.
Justin: So if you came to see bodies fly, careers get shortened, and Christmas spirit get suplexed…
He pauses, smirking.
Justin: You are in the right place. Because every single match tonight will have a very special holiday stipulation!
That gets a huge pop. Fans start shouting guesses—someone yells something about mistletoe and tables, another screams about eggnog. Justin raises a hand like he’s conducting chaos.
Justin: You’re going to get festive! You’re going to get violent! You’re going to get the kind of holiday memories you can’t explain to your family without them asking if you need help!
The crowd eats it up.
Justin: And speaking of help, we are not doing this alone. Oh no! Not tonight! Not on Winter Wonderslam!
He turns toward the stage with an exaggerated flourish, as if rolling out an invisible red carpet.
Justin: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome SCW’s Hostess With the Mostess! MISS AMANDA HUGGINKISS!
The entrance music hits with a bright, sassy punch, and the reaction is instant—cheers, whistles, the kind of applause that says the crowd already knows exactly what kind of trouble they’re about to enjoy.
Amanda steps onto the stage and stops right at the top, soaking it in. She hams it up immediately—arms out wide, a playful spin, a dramatic little wave like she’s greeting the peasants from a holiday throne. She’s dressed perfectly for the occasion: a sparkling, form-fitting green-and-gold holiday dress with a fluffy white trim, candy-cane striped tights, and knee-high boots that scream Santa’s favorite troublemaker. A little holly accessory sits in her hair, and her smile could power the scoreboard.
Amanda: Denver! Oh my God, you are so loud tonight I can feel my lashes trying to crawl off my face!
The crowd laughs and cheers again.
Amanda: And I love it. I LOVE it. Because tonight is Winter Wonderslam, and yes, it’s the end of the Road to Inception VIII, and yes, you’re all going to witness holiday chaos!
She points toward the ring with a grin.
Amanda: But let’s not forget something important. Tonight benefits Toys for Tots, which means your fighting, your screaming, and your emotionally irresponsible chanting is doing something good for kids who deserve an incredible holiday.
The crowd pops again—big, supportive, proud.
Amanda: So give yourselves a hand for having hearts, even if your favorite wrestler definitely does not!
She blows a kiss to the crowd and then leans slightly toward ringside, eyes locking onto a handsome muscle man near the barricade.
Amanda: Oh hello. Hi.
She pauses like she’s suddenly forgotten the entire show exists.
Amanda: Sir, excuse me? Were you part of the security team, or did someone just unwrap a whole snack at ringside?
The crowd howls. The muscle man laughs, and Amanda fans herself dramatically.
Amanda: Because if you’re here to keep people safe, I volunteer to be a situation.
She winks and then snaps back to business like she didn’t just set the barricade on fire with flirting. Amanda’s gaze flicks to a fan a few rows back wearing an aggressively ugly Christmas sweater with blinking lights, a puffy reindeer nose, and what looks like actual jingle bells stitched into the fabric.
Amanda: Oh no. Oh sweetheart, no.
The fan raises their arms like they’re proud of it. The camera zooms in and the sweater flashes like a holiday emergency signal.
Amanda: That sweater is so ugly it just tried to enter the ring under a mask and challenge for a title.
The crowd erupts. The fan laughs and bows like they’ve been honored.
Amanda: I mean, I respect the commitment, but if that sweater comes within ten feet of me, I’m calling Santa and telling him you’ve been laundering sins.
She points the mic toward the audience like she’s daring them to top it.
Amanda: Alright. Enough foreplay, Denver. It’s time to begin this show properly.
She turns slightly toward the entrance tunnel, setting up the moment with a theatrical breath.
Amanda: With a song.
She holds the mic poised, smiling like she’s about to make the entire Coliseum participate whether they want to or not.
Amanda: Lashes like broomsticks and glitter explosions,
Wigs tall enough to disrupt flight path motions,
Hip pads that give me those gravity swings,
These are a few of my fabulous things.
Dresses that sparkle like tinsel at midnight,
Contour so sharp it could start a small bar fight,
Jewels on my fingers, my ears, and my rings,
These are a few of my fabulous things.
Six-inch stilettos that scrape up the dance floor,
Fans in the front row who scream, “Yaaas, we want more!”,
Spotlights that catch every snap of my wings,
These are a few of my fabulous things.
Lip-syncing power ballads, acting dramatic,
Making the straights slightly queerly ecstatic,
Hearing the cash in the tip bucket clings,
These are a few of my fabulous things.
Brows carved like artwork in gold picture framing,
Outfits that leave all the church ladies naming,
“Is that a woman?” “A man?” “Who knows?”—it stings,
These are a few of my fabulous things.
Chosen fam cackling backstage in confusion,
Hairspray that causes mild air pollution,
Queer little reindeer with rhinestone piercings,
These are a few of my fabulous things.
When the wig slips,
When the zip breaks,
When my feet feel dead…
I simply remember I am the main show,
And then I feel fierce instead.
Brunch on a Sunday with pancakes and champagne,
Reading the room while I lip-sync to pure pain,
Turning a heartbreak into jokes and mood swings,
These are a few of my fabulous things.
Grandmas in front rows who clap off the rhythm,
Twinks in the back who’d sell souls just to sit with ’em,
Everyone shining like queens, kings, and flings,
These are a few of my fabulous things.
So when life’s rude,
When trolls post crud,
When the day turns bad…
I slip on a heel and a sequin or two,
And suddenly I’m not sad.
I remember all of my fabulous things…
And baby
I’m so glad I’m this bad!
Amanda’s opening performance ends on a high note, the last flourish of music hitting like a bow tied tight on a Christmas present. The Denver Coliseum rises to it with cheers, whistles, and thunderous applause. She prances across the stage in a victory lap, blowing kisses with both hands, sending them out like confetti, then offers a slow, dramatic curtsy that catches the glitter in a thousand little flashes. With one final, playful twirl and a grin that promises she’ll be back to cause more chaos later, she slips behind the curtains and disappears from view as the arena keeps cheering like they’re trying to pull her back out by sheer 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. Their desk is dressed up for the holiday, garland tucked neatly along the edge, a few tiny twinkling lights woven through like someone in production got festive without getting reckless. Simone looks polished and seasonal in a deep red blazer over a sleek black top, gold jewelry catching the light when she turns toward the camera. Lunam, already grinning like he can smell the chaos coming, wears a crisp dark suit with a green tie and a Santa hat perched proudly on his head, the pom-pom bouncing every time he nods along to the crowd’s roar.
Simone: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to Denver, Colorado, and welcome to the year-end edition of SCW Climax Control Winter Wonderslam!
Lunam: Ah now, would ya listen to that! Denver’s after comin’ unglued already, Belinda. This place is buzzin’, an’ it’s only gettin’ louder from here!
Simone: And it should. Because tonight is bigger than just the final Climax Control of 2025—tonight is a celebration, and it’s for an incredible cause. Winter Wonderslam benefits Toys for Tots, and all night long SCW is making sure the holiday spirit hits just as hard as the action!
Lunam: Aye, that’s the truth of it. Yer cheerin’, yer screamin’, yer losin’ yer mind—and it’s helpin’ families have a brighter Christmas. That’s the kind of madness I can get behind, so it is!
Simone: But don’t let the charity fool you into thinking tonight is going to be gentle. Every match has a special holiday stipulation, and that means every bout is going to be unpredictable.
Lunam: Unpredictable is right! Ye’ve got garland on the ropes an’ mischief in the air—an’ when wrestlers start seein’ Christmas props as weapons, Belinda, it turns into absolute mayhem in a heartbeat!
Simone: And that mayhem is all part of the Road to Inception VIII. Because after tonight, the calendar flips and we are barreling straight into the first major event of 2026… Inception VIII!
Lunam: Ah now, how d’ye start a night like this, yeah? Ye kick the door clean off its hinges, that’s how! With Zenna Zdunich goin’ toe-to-toe with Amelia Reynolds in the openin’ contest! Both of these women have got Inception VIII written all over ‘em: Amelia’s headin’ straight into a clash with former World Champion Frankie Holliday, and that’s not a match ye walk into unless ye’ve got grit in yer bones. But Zenna? She’s got history waitin’ to be made! She’s bound for the first-ever tag team match for the World Championship, and tonight is her chance to show the whole world she’s not just ready to be part of somethin’ big! She’s ready to be the reason it becomes legendary!
Simone: Then we shift gears into a match with a whole different kind of danger! Harper Mason versus Bea Barnhart. Harper’s already got her sights locked on Victoria Lyons and the Internet Championship at Inception VIII, but she can’t afford to look past tonight for even one second, because Bea Barnhart is as dastardly as they come. Bea doesn’t just try to win. She tries to ruin your night, your momentum, and your confidence on the way to something bigger. If Harper wants to walk into Inception VIII with fire in her lungs and certainty in her step, she’s going to have to survive the kind of fight Bea loves most: messy, mean, and full of shortcuts.
Lunam: And if that’s not enough madness for ye, how about a Triple Threat that’s gonna have bodies flyin’ every which way! LJ Kasey versus Aiden Reynolds versus Liam Davis! The Angry Officer’s got Ryan Keys waitin’ for him at Inception VIII, and ye know Davis is the kind of man who treats every match like it’s a personal arrest warrant. But LJ Kasey’s got his own vendetta brewin’, because he’ll be settlin’ a score with Bulldog Bill Barnhart in Las Vegas, and that kind of anger makes a man dangerous. Toss Aiden Reynolds into that mix and ye’ve got speed, spite, and bad intentions all crashin’ together, and in a Triple Threat, there’s no such thing as safe.
Simone: And speaking of bad intentions, we’ve got a non-title match that’s going to feel like a party until the first punch lands! Roulette Champion Vincent Lyons Junior stepping in tonight against SCW’s Party Boy, Ryan Keys. Vincent Junior is gearing up to put that Roulette Championship on the line against Logan Hunter at Inception VIII, but tonight he’s facing someone who thrives in chaos and laughs while he’s doing damage. Keys isn’t here to play nice, and he’s definitely not here to be anyone’s warm-up. If Vincent wants to head into that title defense with momentum, he has to survive a man who treats every opening like an invitation to take over the whole room.
Lunam: Now listen to me, because this one’s a statement match if I’ve ever seen one! Alexandra Calaway against former World Champion Frankie Holliday! Calaway’s got a championship opportunity comin’ at Inception VIII, and tonight is about showin’ she belongs on that stage. But Frankie Holliday? That’s not just a name on a poster, that’s experience, pressure, and pedigree all wrapped into one dangerous opponent. Ye don’t get to call yerself ready for a title shot unless ye can stand toe-to-toe with a former World Champion and keep yer nerves from turnin’ to ice. If Alexandra wants the world to believe, she’s got to make ‘em believe tonight.
Simone: And don’t even think for a second the intensity stops there because we’ve got a massive non-title clash between two Wolfslair friends, and those are always the hardest fights. Roulette Champion Alicia Lukas is preparing for her title defense in Las Vegas, but before she gets there she has to face Bella Madison and Bella has her own storm coming, with a Hardcore Date against “The Dreamkiller” Kayla Richards on January 11. That’s not just a match, that’s a survival test, and both women know it. Friendship doesn’t mean hesitation in this business, sometimes it means you know exactly where it hurts the most!
Lunam: And then, Denver, we hit the main event, and it’s an absolute monster of a tag team match! World Heavyweight Champion Helluva Bottom Carter teams up with “Unbreakable” Eddie Lyons to take on Carter’s Inception VIII challenger Alexander Raven and that pompous third-generational star who cost Eddie dearly not long ago, Brayden Williams! Ye can feel the stakes in the air, can’t ye? Carter and Raven are on a collision course for the biggest prize in SCW, Eddie’s got revenge burnin’ in his chest, and Brayden Williams is the kind of lad who thinks the world owes him applause. Tonight, all of that collides in one ring, one main event, and I’m tellin’ ye now! There’s no way this ends without somebody leavin’ with bruises and regrets.
Simone: All this and more on Climax Control - Winter Wonderslam!
The scene opens backstage at the Climax Control Christmas Special where we see Cassie Wolfe leaning against the wall.
Cassie: Twas the last Climax Control before Christmas and I’m banging my head against a wall, for my knowledge about my match against Twisted Sister at Inception VIII can be summed up as fuck all
The Aussie shakes her head.
Cassie: But hey! At least I’m actually being booked this time!
Cassie lets out a dep breath.
Cassie: If I have to wait another week to learn the circumstances about my match against Twisted Sister then so be it but I will show everyone that I should never be left off a PPV Card because when they do that? They deny me a PPV paycheque, especially when I almost miss the biggest show of the year because Christian’s so fucking obsessed with nostalgia.
Cassie goes to walk off.
Cassie: I swear “Stoner” Scott Oliver could run this company better than Christian!
Cassie walks off as the scene fades.
The screen flickers in with a soft, documentary-style grain, handheld camera, natural light, no pyro, no music sting. Just the sound of a loading dock in winter: a distant forklift beep, the rattle of a rolling bay door, boots on concrete.
The camera finds Ciarán in an emerald green hoodie with a knit beanie pulled down over his ears. He’s got sleeves pushed up and a pair of work gloves half on, half dangling from his wrist like he didn’t quite commit to being “official,” but he’s here, and he’s ready. Behind him, stacks of cardboard boxes are piled high, some marked TOYS 4 TOTS, others scribbled with sharpie: TRUCK 1, RING SIDE DONATIONS, BACKSTAGE BIN.
Ciarán looks at the camera, a little bashful, like he’s not sure if he should be smiling yet.
Ciarán: Ah would ye look at the state of it… this is class, isn’t it? I thought Christmas telly was all lights and music and fellas in suits, but no, this is the real bit. This is where it actually matters.
He steps aside and the camera follows him toward a row of tables where volunteers are sorting toys. There’s a rhythm to it, quick hands, careful choices. A volunteer checks labels, another tapes boxes shut. A stack of stuffed animals sits like a soft mountain, bright colors against gray concrete.
Ciarán picks up a toy dinosaur and turns it over, reading the label with exaggerated seriousness. He nods like it’s a championship belt inspection.
Ciarán: This lad looks fierce. If I was eight again, I’d be chuffed with that. Honestly, if I’m being straight with ye, some of these are nicer than what I had growin’ up.
A woman in a Toys 4 Tots shirt waves him over. The camera catches her smile before it finds a hand-painted sign taped to a wall: WINTER WONDERSLAM - TOYS 4 TOTS DROP-OFF. Ciarán approaches her respectfully, like he’s stepping into someone else’s workplace, because he is.
Charity Coordinator: Ciarán, right? Thanks for coming early.
Ciarán nods, pulling his gloves on properly now.
Ciarán: Aye, that’s me. Ciarán Doyle. And listen, thank you for havin’ me. I’m only new enough around here, y’know? I didn’t want to just show up for the camera and pretend I’m doin’ somethin’. I wanted to actually… lift a box, like.
The coordinator laughs and gestures toward a mountain of sealed cartons.
Charity Coordinator: Well, we’ve got plenty to lift.
Ciarán glances at the boxes and does that little inhale people do before they commit to work. Then he nods, like he’s gearing up for a match.
Ciarán: Right. Grand. Where d’ye want me?
Cut to a montage of Ciarán working.
He hoists a box, squats properly, lifts with his legs. He carries it to a pallet. He tightens a plastic strap. He tapes a seam down with quick, neat strips like he’s been doing it all his life. He’s not playing it up. He’s just… doing it.
The camera catches him laughing with volunteers, quiet little moments: someone cracks a joke, Ciarán reacts with that open, honest grin that makes him look younger than he does under arena lights.
Then, a shot of him pausing to let a small kid in a coat and earmuffs place a toy into the collection bin. Ciarán crouches down a bit to be closer, keeping the moment gentle.
Ciarán: Fair play to ye. That’s dead sound, that is. Someone’s gonna be made up with that.
The kid runs off, and Ciarán stands back up, watching for a second with a look that’s more thoughtful than performative. The dock noise hums around him. For a beat, he looks like he’s remembering something.
Ciarán turns back to the camera, quieter now.
Ciarán: Look, I’m not gonna stand here and act like I know what it’s like for every kid out there. I don’t. But I do know what it’s like to have a Christmas that’s tight. And I know what it’s like when a small thing feels massive, because it means someone cared enough to do it.
A volunteer approaches with a marker and a handful of small SCW stickers.
Charity Coordinator: Ciarán, could you sign a few of these? We’re putting them on some of the boxes for the kids, little surprise when they open them.
Ciarán’s eyebrows lift like he’s genuinely honored by the request. He wipes his hands on his hoodie and takes the marker carefully, like it’s a ceremonial object.
Ciarán: Ah Jaysus… aye, of course. That’s… that’s lovely, that is.
He sits at the edge of a folding table. The camera tightens in as he signs. Not huge, flashy autographs, just clean, clear “Ciarán Doyle” with a small shamrock doodle beside it, then another, then another. He does it patiently, like he’s trying to make each one feel personal.
Ciarán: I’ll put a wee shamrock on it, yeah? Just so they know it’s from me. Little bit o’ home on it. Even if they’ve never been to Ireland in their life, sure, why not, like? Everyone deserves a bit o’ luck.
He finishes a stack and hands them back, then, almost shyly, he picks up one more sticker and signs it smaller, more careful than the rest.
Ciarán: This one’s for whoever needs it most. I don’t know who that is. But whoever ye are… I hope ye have a deadly Christmas, alright?
The coordinator thanks him again off-camera. Ciarán stands, rolling his shoulders, and the camera follows as he helps push a loaded dolly toward the truck bay.
The big Toys 4 Tots banner flutters slightly as the door opens and cold air spills in. Ciarán squints against it, breath puffing white.
Ciarán: So tonight when ye see me out there, when I’m scrapin’ and swingin’ and tryin’ to prove I belong, just know this is the part I’ll be proud of no matter what happens in the ring.
He stops at the truck, looks straight into the lens, no bravado, no tough-guy act. Just sincerity.
Ciarán: Bring a toy if ye can. Somethin’ small, somethin’ big, doesn’t matter. Just don’t let a kid feel forgotten this year. Alright?
He gives the camera a quick nod, then turns back to the work without waiting for a cut, grabbing another box, calling out to a volunteer to pass him tape, becoming part of the line like he was always meant to be there.
The shot lingers a second longer than normal, Ciarán moving in and out of frame, lifting, stacking, laughing quietly, and then fades out to the Winter Wonderslam logo and the Toys 4 Tots emblem side by side.
Justin: The following contest is scheduled for one fall… and it is the Christmas Stipulation: “Deck the Halls” Garland Match! The ropes are wrapped in garland and Christmas lights. The first competitor to score a pinfall, submission, or choke their opponent with the garland for a full five-count will be declared the winner!
Lunam: The ropes will not give you the same way tonight. Grip changes. Recoil changes. Even simple escapes become complicated.
Simone: That favors the veteran who stays composed. It also punishes anyone who hesitates for even a moment.
Justin: Introducing first…
The opening guitars of “Freeky People” by Kidneythieves hit, and the arena snaps into red and purple strobes that flash across the garland-wrapped ropes. Zenna Zdunich steps through the curtain with a confident swagger, throws the devil horns high over her head, and holds the pose just long enough for the crowd to swell.
She smirks, then starts down the ramp at a brisk pace, eyes cutting from side to side as she soaks in the reaction. At ringside she breaks into a run, drops low, and slides into the ring in one smooth motion, popping up to her knees in the center. She lingers there for a beat, savoring the noise, then rises and heads straight for the corner.
Justin: From New Orleans, Louisiana….ZEEEENNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAA ZDUUUUUUUUUNICHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
Zenna climbs to the top rope with ease, balances, and throws the horns again right in front of her face, tongue out as she lets out a sharp yell like she’s front row at a concert. She hops down lightly, rolling her shoulders once, eyes already locked toward the ramp as she waits for her opponent.
Justin: And her opponent…
The lights in the arena snap out as the jagged electronic rhythm of "Better on Mute" by Sophie Powers rattles across the personal address system. A hot pink glow crosses the stage, rippling in time with the beat, which is sharp enough to rattle the barricades. Powers' grungy sound catches the attention of the crowd, who give a mixed reaction upon the twinkling lights blinking onto the stage in bright white and silver.
Through the glare, Amelia Reynolds steps out from behind the curtain, rhinestone-studded jacket catching the light with every confident step she takes. She stops at center stage, her smirk playful but precise, chin tilted toward the crowd as she turns into the strobe.
A few seconds later, Dickie Watson joins her. He's steady and calm, his gaze flicking toward her with the kind of quiet pride that doesn’t need an announcement. When he reaches her side, Amelia leans into him for a moment, looping her arm through his and pressing her cheek lightly to his shoulder. It’s soft, almost sweet...at least until the next beat drops.
The moment the bass hits, she lets go, stepping forward into the light like she’s flipping a switch. Her whole demeanor shifts. Sugar turned spark, grin wide and wicked as she starts down the ramp. The lights catch on the silver edge of her jacket as she walks, each step hitting clean with the rhythm. Halfway down the ramp, the chorus slams through the speakers. Amelia stops, turns toward the hard cam, and raises a finger to her lips not necessarily to hush, but to make a point.
Then, with a laugh caught between defiance and delight, she sings along, echoing with lyrics, “Better on mute, fuck you, I’ll do it myself.”
The line lands, the crowd reacts, and she answers with a sharp wink before continuing forward. Behind her, Dickie’s smirk deepens, head shaking slightly as he follows at an easy pace, amused and quietly protective.
Justin: Representing Wolfslair...from the beaches of the Gold Coast of Queensland, Australia..."The Skyborn" AMEEEEELIIAAAAAAAA REEEEYYYYNOOOOLLLLLDDDDSSSSSS!!!!
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.
Climbing the second rope in the nearest corner, Amelia poses with one hand under her chin, the other tracing the air near her lips as the lights pulse pink and silver around her. When she hops down, she slips off her jacket and tosses it toward Dickie, who catches it at ringside with a quiet smirk.
She takes a few slow steps toward the turnbuckle she's slated to go into, shoulders rolling as the last notes echo through the arena. The crowd’s noise swells and she looks out over it, her chin tilted, eyes glinting beneath the haze, before the corner of her mouth pulls into a grin as her music fades out.
Lunam: Dickie stays at ringside. He is close enough to guide, but he is not interfering.
Simone: Amelia is stepping into something unfamiliar here. Zenna is not.
DING DING DING!
The bell rings and the first thing that fills the ring is movement. Not chaos, not speed, but that deliberate circling that comes when two wrestlers are trying to decide who blinks first. Zenna keeps her hands high, shoulders loose, posture confident. Amelia keeps lighter on her feet, a fraction more bounce in her stance, eyes scanning not just Zenna but the rope line dressed in green and glitter. The garland is not decorative from this close. It looks like something that could catch skin, hair, fabric. It sits on the cables with a slight sag in places, as if it is waiting.
They tie up. Zenna wins the first inch. She turns Amelia’s momentum into a side headlock and clamps down with a tight squeeze, forearm pressing into the jaw. It is a classic hold with a hard edge to it, the kind that makes you feel your own heartbeat in your teeth. Amelia plants her boots, hands to Zenna’s waist, trying to push her off. Zenna simply walks her backward, steering her like a gear turning.
Amelia’s back hits the ropes. The contact is wrong. The garland gives, then grips. It bunches against Amelia’s shoulder and catches a strand of her hair. The top rope does not snap her forward cleanly. It drags her a beat, then releases her unevenly. Amelia comes off it with her balance half-shifted, a fraction off her usual line.
Zenna is already there. A shoulder block lands square in the chest and knocks Amelia down. Zenna hits the ropes and comes back with another, heavier, and Amelia’s breath pops out in a sharp exhale as she folds and rolls. Zenna whips Amelia into the ropes again. Amelia runs, but the rope line steals her rhythm. The garland slides under her forearm and makes her return slightly late.
Zenna takes it anyway and cracks her with a flying clothesline. Amelia flips, lands flat, and the impact ripples through her smaller frame. She rolls to her side, blinking, jaw set, trying to swallow the shock before it shows.
Simone: Zenna is making this physical immediately.
Zenna hauls Amelia up by the wrist, then pulls her forward into a bulldog. Amelia’s face and chest hit the mat with a dull thud, and Zenna follows her down like a shadow, hooking a leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Amelia kicks out, but it is measured. Not panic, not desperation. More like she is still testing how her body feels in this environment.
Zenna does not give her time to breathe. She whips Amelia into the corner, and Amelia hits the buckles with the garland at the top rope brushing against her throat line. Amelia’s hands lift automatically to clear it away. That single reflex is enough. Zenna drives a forearm into Amelia’s chest, then another higher, forcing Amelia’s shoulders into the padding. Zenna hooks her by the waist, drags her out of the corner, and drops into a Boston crab. She sits deep, back straight, hands locked around Amelia’s legs like a vise.
Amelia’s hands slap the canvas as she pulls forward. Her breathing turns audible. Her boots scrape, toes digging, hips twisting as she tries to take pressure off her lower back. She crawls toward the ropes and reaches. Her fingers grab garland instead of rope. It slides. It gives her nothing. She tries again and it slips again. The frustration flickers across her face as she clenches her jaw and exhales through her teeth.
At ringside, Dickie shifts closer to the apron. He does not shout. He does not pound the mat. He simply lifts one hand slightly and angles it, a small directional cue. His eyes stay locked on Amelia like a fixed point. Amelia changes the angle of her body instead of reaching straight. She tucks a knee under, turns her hips, and kicks at Zenna’s wrist, then the forearm. Zenna adjusts her grip to keep the hold, and that adjustment gives Amelia the slack she needs. Amelia rolls through, twisting out, and the crab breaks.
Amelia pushes up fast, hair falling forward then tossed back, one wrist flexed as if she is resetting herself. Zenna rises too, and there is a brief, tight smile on her face that reads like approval and warning at the same time. They meet again. This time Amelia snaps Zenna down with a deep arm drag that pulls Zenna across the mat. Zenna pops up, and Amelia drags her again, turning it into a clean, quick sequence that forces Zenna to chase her base. Zenna stands, and Amelia drills a basement dropkick into the back of Zenna’s knee. Zenna’s leg buckles and she drops to a knee.
Amelia hits the ropes, returns, and drives both knees into Zenna’s chest with a running meteora. Zenna rocks back, breath knocked loose, and Amelia hooks the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Zenna kicks out hard, shoulders rolling as she sits up, eyes sharper now.
Lunam: Amelia is settling in. Once she finds tempo, she stops looking hesitant.
Amelia rises and circles once, not in showmanship but in composure, as if she is listening to the ring and the ropes and her own breath. She snaps Zenna over with a snapmare and cracks a penalty kick to the spine. Zenna winces, rolls, and pushes up. Zenna swings a chop that echoes across the arena. It lands on Amelia’s chest and the sting shows immediately. Zenna hits another. Amelia absorbs it, shoulders tight, expression controlled, but the damage registers in the way her breath catches.
Amelia answers with short forearm shivers, snappy and precise, then a sharp shoot kick to the ribs that makes Zenna fold slightly. Amelia grabs Zenna’s wrist and whips her toward the ropes. Zenna reaches for the middle cable out of instinct, but the garland shifts under her forearm and the grip slides. Zenna ends up dropping to a knee near the ropes, irritated, blinking like she is recalculating something she has never had to calculate before.
Simone: The rope line is a trap tonight. It looks soft. It is not soft.
Amelia sprints in with a running forearm smash that drives Zenna into the corner. Amelia climbs to the second rope, feet planted, body balanced. She launches for a diving meteora. Zenna moves. Amelia lands on her feet, but her boot catches a droop of garland near the turn. It snags her ankle just enough to pull her forward off-center. It is a small stumble, but it steals the clean reset she relies on.
Zenna capitalizes instantly with a dropkick to the back that sends Amelia chest-first into the buckles. Amelia’s throat brushes the garland-wrapped top rope, and she flinches hard as she peels away, one hand going to her neck. A cough tries to break loose; she forces it down, but her eyes water slightly from the shock of it. Zenna is behind her before she can fully turn. Zenna yanks a length of garland loose enough to use, loops it across Amelia’s upper chest from behind, and pulls it tight across the throat line. It is controlled, methodical, and brutal. Zenna braces her weight and leans back, using the tension and Amelia’s position against the ropes to limit escape.
Amelia’s hands claw at the garland immediately. Her boots scrape the mat as she tries to plant, to push up, to change the angle. Her face tightens, not with fear, but with sudden fury. This is the stipulation made real.
Lunam: That’s the win condition right there. Five-count and it’s over.
Zenna drags Amelia down into a seated position to keep control, garland tight across the collar line. Amelia’s shoulders tremble with the effort to breathe through it. She twists her torso, trying to slip the pressure off her throat. Zenna adjusts and tightens again. Amelia changes tactics. She hooks Zenna’s ankle with her leg and rolls her weight hard to the side. Zenna loses balance for a breath, and the garland loosens just enough for Amelia to surge up. Amelia snaps a forearm into Zenna’s jaw, then another, then a sharp kick into the ribs that forces Zenna to step back. Amelia’s breathing is rough for a moment. She forces it steady. She shakes her hands once, like she is shaking off the idea of being cautious.
Zenna swings for a lariat. Amelia ducks, slips behind, and snaps Zenna into a dragon suplex. Zenna hits the mat hard and Amelia bridges.
ONE!
TWO!
Zenna kicks out with authority and rolls through to her knees, hair in her face, chest rising and falling heavier now.
Amelia springs to the apron. Her hands are careful on the garlanded rope. She adjusts her grip and launches in with a springboard forearm smash that catches Zenna flush. Zenna staggers, and Amelia follows with a snap suplex, then pops up into another running meteora that drives Zenna down again. Amelia covers.
ONE!
TWO!
Zenna kicks out, but she is blinking now, jaw clenched, breath louder. The resilience is there, but the comfort is gone.
Simone: Zenna is still fighting, but Amelia is starting to place every strike and every transition like it matters.
Zenna scrambles up and catches Amelia with Family Tradition, sliced bread into a sitting edge-o-matic. Amelia hits seated, head snapping forward. Zenna does not go for the cover. Zenna reaches for the garland again, fast and purposeful. She loops it and tries to cinch Amelia toward the ropes, aiming to trap her against the decorated cable where grip becomes unreliable.
Amelia’s hesitation is gone completely. She grabs the garland with both hands and steps sideways, turning the line of it into leverage. She yanks Zenna forward into the ropes instead. Zenna’s arms and upper chest collide with the garland-wrapped cables, and the decorations bunch around her forearms. It steals her clean grip. It turns her posture awkward.
Amelia moves behind her and threads the garland across Zenna’s throat and shoulder line, pinning Zenna against the ropes. Amelia plants her feet and leans back, using her body weight and the tension of the rope line. Zenna fights, elbows flaring, boots digging into the mat. She tries to twist, tries to turn her head, tries to grab rope that is not rope anymore.
The referee begins the count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Zenna’s hand reaches for the cable by instinct, but the garland slides under her palm. Her grip fails. She tries again and it slips again.
FIVE!!!!
The bell rings.
DING DING DING!
Lunam: Amelia Reynolds wins it by garland choke, five-count!
Simone: She looked cautious at the start. She learned the match, then she took it.
Justin: And your winner…..Amelia Reynolds!!!!
Amelia releases immediately and steps back, chest rising and falling. Her throat is visibly tender where the garland pressed, and she swallows once, steadying her breath. Zenna drops to a knee, coughs once, then steadies herself with a palm on the canvas, eyes narrowed but proud. She does not look broken, only frustrated that she got outplayed at the last possible moment.
Dickie steps closer to the apron. He reaches out to take Amelia’s jacket when she slides it off the corner post. No celebration, no theatrics. Just a quiet, grounding presence at the edge of the ring.
Amelia looks at Zenna for a brief beat, respect in her eyes. Then she turns toward the hard camera and lifts her chin, letting the message sit in the silence.
Simone: Frankie Holliday is watching. Amelia just proved she can adapt when it gets ugly.
Lunam: Momentum matters. Amelia leaves the opening match with it.
We see a roving camera person approach the door of the dressing room where Bea Barnhart, Bill Barnhart, and their English Bulldog Iris, are staying for Climax Control 445. Bea is assigned to a match against Harper Mason but Bill has this edition of Climax Control off from wrestling. Iris, their English Bulldog, travels with Bill and Iris which explains why Iris is with them in the dressing room. Bea looks up at the camera person who is setting their camera up and when the camera person informs Bea that they are live broadcasting Bea begins her comments.
Bea: Well here we go again. Another Climax Control event and another match I am forced to deal with against Harper Mason. Do you think I am afraid of Harper in a wrestling match? Not only NO but HELL NO!!! I am capable of standing up to all the wrestlers in Sin City Wrestling and with the amount of times I have defeated Harper you would think she would stop accepting matches against me. Well there is a saying that states some people are so used to getting beat down that maybe they enjoy getting beat down. And so you know I have every intention of beating down Harper Mason so she will stop asking for matches aginst me. Would you like to say anything to the viewers Bill?
Bill: I am okay Bea. You do not need my comments to help you win a match against a pathetic wrestler such as Harper Mason. Please continue with your comments.
Bea: Thank you Bill. For sure this will be another fun match against Harper Mason. Matches against opponents like Harper are fun because the more they get assigned to me for a match the more times I get to beat them senseless. Just keep watching me for this match. I am going into this match with Harper with the intent to win. I am going into this match with Harper to humiliate her. Harper will lose to me again and there is nothing she can do go prevent herself from losing to me again.
Bea appears to be finished with her comments then she looks back into the camera.
Bea: I want everyone to know that I am a better wrestler than Harper Mason and also the majority of the wreslters in Sin City Wrestling. From A to Z nobody can deny that I am better than they are.
Bea informs the camera person that she is going to start her walk to the staging area to be ready for her match. She tells the camera person if they want to follow her and keep their camera focused on her until the gets to the staging area that is okay with her but also if they have another assignment and cannot follow her to the staging area that is also fine with her. The camera person tells Bea they will stay with her until she arrives at the staging area then they will have to move to another location. With that said Bea and the camera person head off to get to the staging area so that Bea will be ready for her match.
The camera doesn’t find Ryan’s face right away.
It finds the impact.
Two oversized red sacks hit the concrete with a heavy thud, stuffed so full that boxed toys press against the fabric, action figures, dolls, stuffed animals, bright plastic corners threatening to poke through. Whoever packed these did not understand the phrase “a few toys.”
Then Ryan Keys steps into frame, hauling the second sack up onto his shoulder.
Hoodie half-zipped. Sleeves shoved up. Hair a little messy, like he didn’t stop moving long enough to fix it. He glances at the camera mid-step, already smiling.
Ryan Keys: Before anyone says anything, this was supposed to be, like… one bag.
The toys rustle loudly as he walks.
Ryan Keys: I blame the aisles. They’re aggressive.
He reaches the donation table, lowers both sacks carefully, and crouches just enough to peek inside one. Volunteers nearby laugh, already reacting, already impressed.
Ryan Keys: That one’s for someone who needs it. That one too. Honestly...
He gestures vaguely into the bag.
Ryan Keys: ...Most of these."
A voice cuts in from off-camera.
Ms. Rocky Mountains:: Most?
Ms. Rocky Mountains steps into frame, clipboard tucked under her arm, eyes immediately dropping to the mountain of toys. One brow lifts.
Ms. Rocky Mountains:: Ryan Keys, you planning on restocking the entire North Pole?"
Ryan straightens, feigning innocence.
Ryan Keys: What? It’s seasonal generosity.
She crouches beside the bags, flipping one open and letting out a quiet, surprised laugh despite herself.
Ms. Rocky Mountains:: This is incredible. You know you have a match tonight, right?
Ryan nods, unfazed.
Ryan Keys: Yeah. Figured I’d warm up carrying goodwill.
He leans back against the table, energy buzzing but relaxed.
Ryan Keys: Look, wins, losses, titles… that stuff matters in here.
He taps his chest once, then gestures toward the toys.
Ryan Keys: But this? This lasts longer.
Ms. Rocky rises, turning slightly toward the camera now.
Ms. Rocky Mountains:: And yet, you are stepping into the ring tonight with the Roulette Champion.
Ryan’s grin sharpens, not cocky, not heavy, just confident.
Ryan Keys: Good. Means I gotta earn the cheers I’m getting.
He looks past the camera, toward the arena, where the crowd noise hums faintly in the distance.
Ryan Keys: If people are here to give? I’ll give them a reason to stay loud.
Ms. Rocky studies him for a beat, then smirks.
Ms. Rocky Mountains:: Well, charitable and motivated. Dangerous combination.
Ryan reaches into the sack and pulls out a stuffed dinosaur, holding it up.
Ryan Keys: Also, if this mysteriously goes missing? I was framed.
Ms. Rocky shakes her head as the camera catches Ryan laughing, already being pulled back toward the donation table and the people waiting there.
The shot lingers on the toys.
Fade out.
Justin: This match is scheduled for one fall… and is a Candy Cane on a pole match. Introducing first…
Jonathon Young’s cover of “New Divide” by Linkin Park hits the speakers and Harper emerges from the back throwing some kicks in the air to the opening beat as her manager Joshua Acquin watches on with approval, once the initial lyrics hit Harper does a spinning roundhouse kick before dropping to one knee and throwing up the Devil Horns.
Justin: From Orlando, Florida and being accompanied by Joshua Acquin, she is the “Slaytanic Avenger” HARPER MASON!
Once Harper hears her name called she jumps to her feet with a massive grin on her face, she sprints down to the ring clapping hands with the fans at ringside before she jumps into the ring and down a forward roll landing on her knees and grinning broadly, ready to throw down with her opponent, Josh applauds his charge from the outside as they wait her opponent.
Justin: And her opponent… hailing from Lawrenceville, Georgia… Bea Barnhart.
WE’RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT by Twisted Sister hits the speakers and we see Bea Barnhart exit from the backstage area dancing to her entrance music. Her wrestling attire consists of black leather pants, a white pullover type of tee-shirt, and a black leather jacket. As the music continues Bea makes her way down to the ring where she climbs the ring steps then ducks through the ropes into the ring. She plays the crowd for a bit before running across the ring leaping up into a corner then executing a backflip landing on her feet. Bea then settles into a corner to wait for her match to start.
The ref moves in and indicates for the bell to be rung…
DING DING DING!
Barnhart and Mason moves to the centre of the ring and shake hands before they back away, but Barnhart is the first to blink and charges towards the corner where the candy cane kendo stick is and she manages to get to the second rope and her fingers graze the stick before Mason grabs her and pulls her off the middle ropes and Barnhart stumbles backwards and Mason charges forward and leaps onto the middle rope, as this time Barnhart grabs Mason by her ring gear and drags her back.
Simone: Barnhart tries to go for the early grab of the kendo stick, but Mason is having none of it and she grabs Barnhart and drags her back, but Mason then tries the same and Barnhart this time stops her.
Lunam: Someone has to try.
Barnhart and Mason glare at each other before rushing forward and locking up, where they jockey for position before Barnhart breaks and grabs Mason around the waist, which Mason right away grabs at Barnhart’s hands as she looks for a way out of the move and quickly does as she pushes on Barnhart’s hand and breaks and counters into to her own waist lock. This time Barnhart hunts for a way out of the move and grabs at Mason’s hands and she breaks the grip before brings a foot back and hits a drop toe hold, which sends Mason down to the mat.
Lunam: Barnhart and Mason share glares, but instead of turning it into a brawl they lock up and jockey for position before Barnhart breaks and grabs Mason around the waist, but Mason is quick to escape it and counters it.
Simone: Barnhart now hunts for a way out and she breaks the grip before tripping Mason and sends her down to the mat.
Barnhart quickly leaps forward and grabs Mason and locks in a headlock, as Mason is onto her knees, but Barnhart stays ground and works on her head. Mason shifts herself a little, as Barnhart then moves to her feet and takes Mason up with her as Mason wraps an arm around Barnhart’s body and then drives her backwards into the ropes before pushing her away into the ropes opposite, where she bounces off the ropes and then shoulder blocks Mason down to the mat.
Lunam: Barnhart quickly moves in and locks in a headlock, but Mason is back to her knees, but Barnhart moves to her feet and takes Mason up. Mason then pushes Barnhart into the ropes and pushers here away but on return, Barnhart hits a shoulder block on Mason.
Barnhart goes for a cover, but before the ref can count it, Mason kicks out, as the ref lets Barnhart know that it won’t count and points towards the candy cane. Mason moves to her feet, but Barnhart is quicker and grabs Mason by the arm for an arm bar, Mason shakes her head before moving to her feet, but Barnhart adjusts her grip and turns it into a wrist lock. Mason grabs at Barnhart’s hand and grimaces before breaking free and does a small counter before putting Barnhart into a headlock, but that headlock is brief as she breaks and spins around grabbing Barnhart’s head from behind before breaking again and steps behind Barnhart and this time trips her up – Barnhart slightly confused in what just happened.
Simone: Barnhart with a cover but the ref doesn’t get a count off. Mason moves to her feet, but Barnhart is quicker and grabs Mason and locks in an armbar. Mason looks for a way out, as she grabs at Barnhart’s hand and counters before sending Barnhart down to the mat.
Mason quickly moves and leaps across to Barnhart’s head and locks in a headlock, Barnhart quickly shifts herself to her knees, as Mason then moves to her own feet and Barnhart has to follow, however, Barnhart then pushes Mason towards the ropes and up against it, as the ref moves in and gets two and Barnhart backs away.
Lunam: Come already grab the kendo stick. I’m getting impatient here.
Simone: Patience is a virtue, as Mason locks in a headlock of her own, but before moving back to her feet and Barnhart pushes Mason up against before having to move away.
Barnhart then quickly rushes towards the corner where the candy cane is and gets to the middle rope before Mason moves in and clubs Barnhart’s lower back before dragging her back and off, Mason spins her around and hits a ripcord elbow smash, which rocks Barnhart and she tries to stumble away but Mason grabs holds of Barnhart’s hand and hits a lariet which drops Barnhart to the mat.
Lunam: Barnhart moves to the corner and gets to the middle of the rope but once more is stopped by Mason before firing in a ripcord elbow smash and then a lariet, which rocks Barnhart.
Mason smirks as she points to the candy cane kendo stick and she moves to the corner, where she climbs the turnbuckle to the top, where she holds onto the pole that holds the kendo stick and she wraps a hand around the kendo stick and yanks it off before carefully turning around. She then watches Barnhart, who is now on her hands and knees, and Mason moves down one turnbuckle before leaping off and smacks the kendo stick across the retreating Barnhart’s back with a loud crack.
Simone: Mason moves to the corner and she grabs the kendo stick and once Barnhart is on her hands and knee, Mason leaps off and brings the stick across Barnhart’s back.
Barnhart arches her back in pain, as Harper then leaps on Barnhart with the stick in hand and she begins to choke Barnhart, as Barnhart kicks her legs about before Harper rolls off her and she climbs to her feet and she turns to Barnhart and raises the kendo stick high and she bring it down and Barnhart dodges and Mason tries again and Barnhart dodges again and this time rolls herself from the ring as Mason chases after her, but stops.
Lunam: Barnhart is in trouble here, as Mason chokes Barnhart before looking to bring the kendo stick down on her, but Barnhart dodges it and then bails from the ring.
Simone: Good plan there as Mason chases but fails to catch her.
Barnhart climbs to her feet, as she rubs her neck as she moves around the ring, as Mason with the kendo stick climbs from the ring and moves after Barnhart, Barnhart runs away before diving into the ring, as Mason follows her in but Barnhart is ready for her and stomps on her a couple of times before grabbing the kendo stick and then a handful of Mason’s hair and drags her further into the ring before unleashing the kendo stick on Mason.
Lunam: Barnhart is back to her feet, as Mason then climbs from the ring and chases Barnhart, but Barnhart runs and dives back into the ring and Mason follows, but Barnhart stops on her and stomps on her.
Simone: She grabs the kendo stick and begins to hit her.
She hits her over and over and over again until the kendo stick breaks as Mason tries to cover up the best she can before Barnhart throws the broken kendo stick away and Barnhart then grabs Mason by the hair and drags her up. Mason then grabs Barnhart hands and as she looks for a surprise Crowd Killer (Ripcord Diamond Cutter). But Barnhart shoves her away.
Simone: Mason is trouble here, as Barnhart stops and then throws the broken kendo stick away. She pulls Mason up as Mason tries to surprise Barnhart with the crowd killer, but Barnhart sees it coming and blocks it.
Mason stumbles forward and Barnhart grabs Mason by the hand and drags her back in, but Mason throws her head forward and catches Barnhart across the bridge of her nose, Mason turns and grabs Barnhart’s hand and hits the Into the Earth (Ripcord Roaring Elbow).
Barnhart goes to stumble back, but Mason grabs her and proceeds to hit the Encore Set (Torture Rack into Flatliner).
Lunam: and just like that, Barnhart is suddenly done.
She then goes for a pin…
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Simone: Mason wins!
DING DING DING!
Justin: Winner of this match via pinfall… Harper Mason.
Mason music hits over the p.a, as she rolls off Barnhart as Joshua Acquin joins her in the ring and pulls her up to her feet and raises her arm in victory.
The screen fades in slowly. Soft instrumental Christmas music plays underneath the shot as snow falls gently from the rafters of the Sin City Wrestling arena. The usual chaos and neon excess of SCW has been replaced by something quieter, warmer. White lights line the entrance ramp, and the massive LED screen glows with snowflakes drifting across a midnight-blue background.
At the center of the stage stands a massive Christmas tree, nearly fifteen feet tall, decorated in silver, red, and gold. Beneath it sits a growing mountain of toys. Action figures still sealed in their boxes. Dolls wrapped carefully in festive paper. Board games. Stuffed animals. Footballs. Video games. Each one marked with a small Toys For Tots tag. The camera cuts closer.
Standing in front of the tree is Alexandra. She isn’t dressed for competition tonight yet. No gear. No entrance jacket. Instead, she wears an SCW hoodie zipped halfway up, fitted jeans, and boots dusted with artificial snow. Her hair is pulled back loosely, makeup minimal. She looks comfortable. Real. Beside her is LJ, her boyfriend, holding a large donation box in both arms. He wears a winter coat and beanie, the Toys For Tots logo clearly visible on the side of the box.
For a moment, neither of them speaks. The crowd noise is subdued, not silent, but respectful. Even in Sin City Wrestling, there are moments when the audience understands the tone without being told. Alexandra takes a slow breath and steps forward.
Alexandra: Winter Wonderland is supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be an escape. Lights, snow, music… something different from the usual fight.
She glances back at the tree, then back to the camera.
Alexandra: But for a lot of people watching right now, this time of year isn’t magical. It’s stressful. It’s heavy. And for some families, it’s painful.
She pauses, choosing her words carefully.
Alexandra: When you grow up around this business, you learn to define strength a certain way. Strength is how much pain you can take. Strength is how long you can keep standing when someone is trying to knock you down. Strength is championships and wins and reputation.
She shakes her head slightly.
Alexandra: But that’s not the whole truth.
LJ shifts beside her, setting the donation box down near the tree. The sound of toys settling inside echoes softly.
LJ: Every year, people ask wrestlers what we’re doing for the holidays. Are we traveling? Are we training? Are we preparing for the next fight?
He smiles faintly.
LJ: This year, we wanted to do something different.
Alexandra nods.
Alexandra: We wanted to remember who’s watching us. Not just fans. Not just other wrestlers. But kids. Families. People who don’t get the luxury of turning off the world when things get hard.
She crouches down and picks up a small stuffed bear wrapped in red paper. She turns it over slowly, almost thoughtfully.
Alexandra: There are kids out there who don’t care who’s main-eventing. They don’t care about rankings or titles. They care about whether tomorrow feels a little less scary than today.
She places the bear gently beneath the tree.
Alexandra: And if something as small as a toy can do that, if it can give a kid one good moment, then it matters.
The camera cuts to crowd shots. Some fans hold up signs reading Season of Giving and Sin City Wrestling Cares. Others simply watch quietly. LJ steps closer to Alexandra.
LJ: We’re not here to pat ourselves on the back. We’re not here to make this about us.
He gestures broadly to the toys.
LJ: This is about reminding people that everyone can do something. You don’t need to be famous. You don’t need money you don’t have. You just need to care enough to try.
Alexandra straightens up, her posture shifting, not aggressive, but firm. The same presence she carries in the ring is here, just focused differently.
Alexandra: I’ve spent my career proving I can fight. Proving I can survive. Proving I can stand back up when people think I shouldn’t.
She looks directly into the lens now, her voice steady but emotional underneath.
Alexandra: But this, this is what strength really looks like.
She motions to the tree, to the toys, to the people around them.
Alexandra: Strength is protecting the people who can’t protect themselves yet. Strength is using what you have, even if it isn’t much to make the world a little better.
She exhales slowly.
Alexandra: If you’re watching tonight and you’re struggling, you’re not alone. And if you’re watching and you’re in a position to help someone else, do it.
LJ places a hand on her back.
LJ: Because kindness doesn’t make you weak. Isn’t that right Angel?
Alexandra allows herself a small smile.
Alexandra: That’s right. It makes you dangerous, in the best possible way.
She reaches into the donation box and pulls out one last toy, holding it up to the camera.
Alexandra: From Sin City Wrestling staff, crew, and wrestlers alike, and from us, to every kid who deserves to feel like they matter, Happy Holidays.
She places the toy beneath the tree and stands beside LJ. Together, they face the tree as the lights dim slightly, causing the ornaments to glow brighter against the falling snow. The camera slowly pulls back. The music swells. The final image is the towering Christmas tree surrounded by toys, Alexandra and LJ standing side by side, not as fighters, not as characters, but simply as people.
Simone: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to one of the most chaotic stipulations we’ve ever seen,The ‘Grinch Who Stole the Title Shot’ Ladder Match! That contract hanging above the ring guarantees a future championship opportunity!
Lunam: And Simone, look at the ring, Christmas ladders, holiday decor everywhere, but make no mistake, this is about pain, not presents.
Breaking The Law by Judas Priest plays over the sound system as Liam Davis, wearing a Police Shield Chest protector and a black shirt with black trousers and black boots, also wearing gloves and elbow pads stamping his feet with his nightstick and handcuffs in his pocket. He stamps his feet, shaking his whole body about to the ring.
Justin: From Orlando, Florida, he is Order Of Authority, LIAM DavisSSS!
Liam slides in the ring and holds up his nightstick to the fans. After he did that, Liam gives the weapons of his nightstick and the handcuffs to the ringside announcer before going in the ring again and pumps his fists in the air before standing in the middle of the ring, waiting for his opponents to come out.
The arena plunges into darkness, leaving only the pulsating glow of neon lights that flicker in sync with the opening notes of "Kingslayer" by Bring Me The Horizon (feat. BABYMETAL). A single spotlight pierces the shadows, illuminating the stage as smoke billows out like an ominous tide.
Justin: From Las Vegas, Nevada, LJ KASEYYYYY!!!
L.J. Kasey emerges, his long black-and-gold jacket flaring out like wings as the hood obscures his face. The camera zooms in, capturing a glint of determination in his shadowed eyes. The crowd roars in recognition of the young, daring British sensation. He pauses at the top of the ramp, slowly pulling back his hood to reveal a smirk that borders on defiance.
The song's tempo shifts, and Kasey matches its energy, striding down the ramp with an unshakable confidence. He slaps a few outstretched hands from fans but never breaks his piercing stare aimed directly at (opponent), who stands waiting in the ring.
Kasey reaches the base of the ramp, unbuckling his jacket with one fluid motion. He tosses it to the side, revealing his gear: a sleek, gold-accented ensemble that gleams under the lights. He takes a step back and then sprints forward, launching himself onto the apron with a flawless leap.
He grabs the top rope, his eyes never leaving Liam Davis, and in one smooth motion, slingshots himself into the ring. Landing in a crouch, Kasey slowly rises to his feet, spreading his arms wide to soak in the electric energy of the crowd.
Simone: LJ Kasey looking good after the brutal attack from Bill Barnhart just a few weeks ago.
Lunam: His head must be on a swivel, knowing Bill could be anywhere.
The Camera pans around and Justin brings the microphone back to his lips.
Justin: From Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia, AIDEN REYNOLDSSSS!!!!
The opening riff of Parkway Drive's "Vice grip" hits. The high speed gives way to Aiden Reynolds stepping out onto the stage, a fist in the air and a black leather jacket with "The Aussie Wolf" spray painted on the back. He moves his way down to the ring and as the refrain of the song hits he throws his arms out to the side as he and the crowd both chant.
"YEAAAH YEAH YEAH"
He leaps onto the apron and takes a few steps backwards before sling-shotting himself into the ring and spinning around, he then stops and drops to one knee slamming his fist into the mat.
The ring is dressed for chaos and Christmas: red-and-green ladders, garland wrapped around the ropes, ornaments hanging from the turnbuckles, and a massive Grinch-green briefcase dangling above the ring lights. The crowd buzzes loudly, especially as LJ Kasey makes his return after being hospitalized weeks earlier.
DING DING DING!
The sharp crack of the bell echoes through the arena, cutting through the roar of the crowd like a gunshot. There is no hesitation. No testing the waters. No circling. All three men explode forward, colliding in the center of the ring in a chaotic storm of fists, boots, and raw hostility. Aiden Reynolds, Liam Davis, and LJ Kasey crash together like wrecking balls, each man trying to establish dominance in the first frantic seconds of the ladder match.
Lunam: No feeling-out process, just fists, boots, and bad intentions!
Davis immediately asserts himself, unloading stiff right hands that back Reynolds into the corner. Each punch echoes, driving Reynolds deeper into the turnbuckles as Davis snarls through clenched teeth. He grabs Reynolds by the collar and hammers another forearm, but before he can continue, LJ Kasey storms in like a missile, snapping Davis’ head sideways with a thunderous roundhouse kick. The impact spins Davis around just in time for LJ to rebound off the ropes and flatten Reynolds with a devastating lariat, turning him inside out.
Simone: That ring rust was shaken off immediately by Kasey!
LJ doesn’t waste a second. He turns, eyes already scanning for weapons, and slides out of the ring. The crowd buzzes as he reaches under the apron and drags out the first ladder of the match, steel scraping loudly against the canvas as he pulls it free.
But the moment LJ slides back in, Reynolds explodes upward, catching him with a vicious short-arm clothesline that nearly decapitates him. Reynolds follows instantly with a kitchen sink knee, driving it into LJ’s midsection and folding him in half.
Davis charges back into the fray, scooping Reynolds up and dropping him with a thunderous spinebuster, the ring shaking from the impact. Before Reynolds can roll away, Davis grabs LJ by the head and plants him face-first with a running bulldog, bouncing his skull off the mat.
Lunam: Davis is a machine when he gets rolling, pure brutality.
Liam Davis rises to his feet, chest heaving, eyes locked upward as the green briefcase dangles above the ring. He drags the ladder upright, the steel legs clanging loudly as he positions it beneath the prize. The crowd builds as Davis starts climbing. Reynolds stirs just in time.
He springs to his feet, rushes forward, and rips Davis down from the ladder, spinning him around and launching him backward with a bridging German suplex—sending Davis crashing hard into a pile of holiday decorations set up near ringside.
The decorations explode on impact. Ornaments shatter. Tinsel flies. Fake snow scatters across the floor. Davis groans, rolling over and clutching his back as shards of broken glass and plastic dig into his skin, tiny cuts already forming along his shoulders.
Simone: Tinsel and punishment, this match has both! It’s Christmas now, bitches!
Reynolds turns, only to be blindsided. LJ Kasey launches himself back into the ring and wipes Reynolds out with a springboard clothesline, flipping him inside out. The crowd erupts as LJ pops back to his feet and immediately begins climbing the ladder Reynolds had set.
But before LJ can reach the second rung, Davis slides back in, fueled by pain and rage. He hooks LJ from behind and rips him off the ladder, then climbs the rungs himself, pulling LJ up with him. In one explosive motion, Davis hooks LJ and detonates a massive superplex, sending both men crashing down as the ladder collapses violently beneath them.
Lunam: That could’ve cracked the ring in half!
All three men are down now, bodies strewn across the canvas as the crowd chants in unison. Reynolds is the first to stir. He pulls himself up using the ropes, eyes locked on Davis. Davis charges, but Reynolds catches him and snaps him over with a powerslam, using the ropes for leverage. Reynolds follows with a sliding forearm smash, blasting Davis across the jaw and sending him rolling.
Reynolds grabs one of the Christmas-themed ladders at ringside, painted red and green, and rams it into Davis’ ribs, the hollow steel echoing loudly. He props the ladder upright in the corner.
Davis fires back immediately, catching Reynolds and dropping him with a brutal backbreaker. Without hesitation, Davis drops to the mat and locks in an STF, wrenching back on Reynolds’ neck and spine. Reynolds screams, clawing at the mat, legs kicking as Davis tightens the hold.
Simone: Submission holds don’t win ladder matches, but they sure soften bodies!
Before the damage can worsen, LJ Kasey launches himself off the ladder in the corner, twisting in mid-air and crashing down with a breathtaking Spanish Fly, using the ladder itself for extra impact as all three bodies collide.
The crowd loses its mind.
Reynolds rolls toward the ropes, shaking off the pain, eyes blazing with urgency. He explodes forward, standing dropkick to Davis. Running knee to LJ. He hooks Davis again and drives him down with an AA-style spinebuster, planting him dead center in the ring.
Lunam: Aiden Reynolds is dismantling everyone in his path!
Reynolds doesn’t slow down. He rebounds off the ropes, leaps through them, and launches himself with a diving somersault plancha, wiping out Davis on the floor in a violent collision that sends both men sprawling into the barricade.
The crowd roars.
Back inside the ring, LJ Kasey pulls himself up, clutching his ribs but refusing to stay down. Reynolds slides back in, right into LJ’s grasp. Reverse-spin Michinoku Driver. Reynolds crashes hard. LJ follows with snake eyes, smashing Reynolds face-first into the turnbuckles, then spins and cracks him with a sharp roundhouse kick.
Simone: This is the LJ Kasey we remember!
Lunam: No doubt somewhere backstage, LJ’s family is watching and worried.
LJ grabs the ladder and starts climbing again, determination etched across his face. But Davis is back. He shoves the ladder violently, sending LJ ribs-first into the ropes. LJ bounces off and collapses to the mat, clutching his side, gasping in pain.
Davis begins climbing, but Reynolds explodes upward and obliterates him with a springboard clothesline, knocking Davis completely off the ladder. All three men collapse, sprawled across the mat, chests heaving, bodies broken from the punishment endured.
Liam Davis rolls out of the ring, clutching his neck, barely able to stand. Reynolds drags himself up. He sets the ladder dead center and begins climbing, rung by rung, eyes locked on the briefcase. LJ Kasey pulls himself up and meets him at the top.
Lunam: This is it! Career-defining territory!
High above the ring, the two men trade punches, each shot wobbling the ladder beneath them. The crowd is on its feet. LJ gains control, smashing Reynolds with repeated headbutts, blood trickling from Reynolds’ brow as the ladder sways dangerously. They teeter back and forth. Either man could fall.
Simone: Kasey’s fingertips are inches away!
Suddenly, the crowd erupts in furious boos. Bill “Bulldog” Barnhart storms down the ramp.
Lunam: NO! NOT HIM! What is he doing out here?
Barnhart slides into the ring and shoves the ladder, sending LJ Kasey crashing violently to the floor.
Simone: DAMN IT! That’s the same man who put LJ in the hospital!
Officials flood ringside as Barnhart sneers down at LJ’s fallen body, a cruel smile spreading across his face before backing away. Security forces him toward the ramp as LJ pulls himself to his knees, locking eyes with Barnhart, rage burning through the pain.
Lunam: This is sickening… but devastatingly effective.
Reynolds steadies himself atop the ladder. Davis tries to recover, but he’s too late. Reynolds reaches up and unhooks the Grinch-green briefcase, raising it high as the bell rings.
Justin: Your winner and the holder of the future title shot, AIDEN REYNOLDS!!!
Reynolds celebrates atop the ladder, clutching the briefcase. On the floor, LJ Kasey stares a hole through Bill Barnhart as officials hold him back.
Simone: Aiden Reynolds won the contract… but Bill Barnhart may have stolen something far more dangerous.
Lunam: LJ Kasey’s patience and that could cost everyone.
The camera opens on the locker room corridor, quiet except for the distant hum of arena activity. Both women are dressed casually, Crystal Zdunich in fashion-forward streetwear with the World Bombshell Championship draped proudly over her shoulder; Mercedes Vargas in jeans and a fitted team shirt, her face twisted in frustration.
Mercedes: Crystal! What the hell was that last week? Seleana pins the World Champion clean, and now, just two weeks from Inception, you’re supposed to walk in as champion? This Zdunich family drama is dragging us both down!
Crystal turns sharply, eyes bright and unbothered, brushing imaginary dust off her championship.
Crystal: You done venting, Mercedes? Look, I didn’t even want to face Seleana in the first place, you know that. She's my wife. I didn’t want that match, didn’t ask for it. Management made it happen, and I did what I had to do. Seleana got lucky, that’s all. Non-title, remember? I’m still the World Bombshell Champion, and we’re still Fire and Fury. Maybe you should focus on keeping up instead of blaming me! You’d think my partner would show a little faith instead of throwing shade. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs... or have you forgotten that?
Mercedes steps closer, voice low but sharp.
Mercedes: And there it is, the excuse I knew was coming. Family first, right?
Mercedes studies Crystal for a moment, disbelief etched on her face. Her jaw tightens as she scoffs and steps closer until she’s almost nose to nose with her partner. The air between them grows heavy as her voice drops, cutting through the silence as Crystal’s smirk starts to fade.
Crystal: Whoa, I need you to back up. You’re in my, like, honor personal space.
Mercedes tilts her head slightly, unimpressed, and smirks.
Mercedes: Keeping up? No, Crystal, I’ve been carrying us. You’re too wrapped up in your family drama to see the cracks forming. Inception isn’t about redemption, it’s about me proving I don’t need to babysit you anymore.
Crystal smirks, tilting her head defiantly.
Crystal: Keep telling yourself that, Mercedes. Just make sure you’re ready when the lights hit, because Seleana and Zenna? They won’t know what hit them.
Mercedes narrows her eyes, voice cold.
Mercedes: Then let me hit you with this, Crystal , either the family drama ends at Inception… or Fire and Fury does. Merry Christmas, partner.
Mercedes storms off down the corridor, shaking her head in disgust. Crystal watches her go before she mutters something under her breath. Slowly, she lowers her eyes to the World Bombshell Championship still clutched in her hand. The metallic faceplate catches her reflection , that familiar confident smirk staring back at her. She smirks at her mirrored image, then adjusts the title and drapes it firmly back over her shoulder before turning away.
Cut back to the arena, commentators reacting.
Simone: Fire and Fury might be coming apart at the seams!
Lunam: If this keeps up, they won’t last until Inception! And ‘tis the season for giving, but I doubt there’ll be any gifts exchanged between those two!
The lights dip just slightly inside the arena. “THRONE” by Bring Me The Horizon HITS HARD
Simone: Oh come on, you KNOW what that means!
Lunam: Our SCW Internet Champion, who defends his title in just a couple of weeks against Alex Jones is coming out. For what, we have no idea but...
The music abruptly cuts out and instead we hear very jolly Christmas music playing throughout the arena...bells, cheer...ya name it. The crowd explodes as Miles Kasey steps out onto the stage donning his traditional Santa suit complete with a fake beard, no padded gut. It’s very clearly Miles
Simone: (laughing) IT’S SANTA KASEY!
Lunam: This has become an SCW holiday tradition at this point!
Miles waves, soaking it in, slapping hands as he heads down the ramp. He pauses, gives a mock “HO HO HO” to the camera, then steps into the ring. He takes off the beard just long enough to speak clearly and grabs a microphone.
Miles: Alright, alright...easy mates, easy.
Crowd cheers.
Miles: Now I know tonight’s about a lot of things...Great wrestling and of course a major dose of Holiday spirit and most importantly, helping Toys for Tots.
Huge pop.
Miles: Now, as you all bought your tickets, and if you are signed up for that email thing, SCW let everyone know that if you bought a ticket to be here tonight in Denver.
A pause for the cheap pop (We love you Mick)
Miles: They asked you to bring a stuffed animal...
Miles looks around, eyes wide, genuinely impressed.
Miles: And looking at this crowd? I’d say you all absolutely understood the assignment.
Crowd raises stuffed animals everywhere.
Simone: Look at this place, Erik!
Lunam: Everywhere you look!
Miles: So let’s not waste time, on the count of three....Let’s make SCW history with the first-ever TEDDY BEAR TOSS!
Miles: ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
The arena erupts as stuffed animals begin to rain down from every direction. Bears, Dogs, Penguins, Dragons, Octopi, a few Stitches and one questionable dinosaur.
Simone: THIS IS AMAZING!
Lunam: I’VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS!
Belinda and Erik each grab a couple and throw them toward the ring, laughing as one lands near the announce desk. Miles spins in place, arms wide, laughing as he’s pelted with plush toys looking like a big kid.
Miles: This!!! THIS is what it’s all about! Each and every single one of you are amazing, and I cannot think as to what could make this any better. You have done this jolly man a world of good and gave him some spark back in his sometimes dark heart. Bless you all and HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!
He kicks a teddy bear gently into the crowd, soaking it in. “Hope Castrated” by Cage Fight hit and the mood immediately shifts.
Simone: ...Oh no.
Lunam: You’ve got to be kidding me.
Logan Hunter storms onto the stage, slso dressed like Santa, but very sloppy. His jacket half-open, the hat crooked and his white beard already hanging off. He marches down the ramp, angrily kicking stuffed animals out of his way.
Simone: Logan Hunter is absolutely ruining Christmas.
Hunter slides into the ring, immediately throwing stuffed animals aside.
Logan: You’ve GOT some nerve, Kasey!
He points aggressively at Miles, who at this point looks amused.
Logan: This was supposed to be my year! MY Santa bit!
Miles stares at him and then slowly puts the fake beard back on his face.
Miles: Oh wow. I’m so sorry, Logan. I must’ve missed the memo.
Miles looks around uncomfortably for a moment and then he turns on his heels looking Logan directly in the eye.
Miles: Oh wait! That’s right there wasn’t one.
Crowd laughs loudly which causes Logan to scream out to shut up and Miles smirks.
Miles: See, I’ve been doing this since I got to SCW. But hey, I tell ya what...I’ll apologize if it helps you get through... whatever this is.
Miles motions at Logan’s pathetic attempt at Santa as Logan fumes.
Logan: You think this is funny?!
Miles: It’s Christmas. I think everything is funny tonight. Tell you what...
Miles reaches up, removes the beard, rolling his shoulders.
Miles: I’m feeling generous. I mean it’s Christmas after all...
Miles spreads his arms wide.
Miles: Since it seems like you are so itchin’ for a fight, I’ll let you go ahead and take the first swing.
The crowd let’s out an “OOOOH!” as Miles tucks his arms behind him and leans, opening himself up for a shot. He says something to Logan that causes Logan to snap and throws a wild right but Miles ducks! And suddenly all hell breaks loose!
Simone: HERE WE GO!
Miles fires back with forearms, driving Logan backward through a sea of stuffed animals. Stuffies fly everywhere as they stumble and brawl. Miles scoops Logan up and pauses to the delight of the crowd...
Lunam: HAIL TO THE QUEEN COMING...
Logan slips free at the last second. He shoves Miles away, scrambles under the ropes, and immediately bails.
Simone: Hunter wants no part of this!
Lunam: I mean we were having an absolutely fabulous time until he had to throw his temper tantrum....
Logan runs up the ramp, yelling and gesturing angrily as the crowd rains BOOS down on him. Miles stands in the ring, breathing hard… then laughs. He picks up a teddy bear, raises it high.
Miles: Merry Christmas, SCW.
Massive pop as more stuffed animals fly into the ring. Camera pulls back on Santa Miles standing amid the chaos. He drops down and does a snow angel amongst the stuffies.
Simone: Leave it to Santa Miles to bring this kind of joy to our fans! Maybe he really is Santa...
The backstage corridor feels colder than it should, the kind of cold that creeps under the skin even with heaters humming behind production doors. Christmas décor tries its best, garland looped around pipes, a string of lights taped to a cinderblock wall, a crooked wreath hanging from a dented door, but the cheer looks tired back here, like it’s been handled by too many busy hands.
A small speaker somewhere plays muffled instrumental carols. The notes drift in and out, warped by distance and concrete, turning sweet melodies into something thin and unsettling.
A roving camera rounds a corner and finds them.
Anthrax sits slouched on a folding chair beneath a flickering strand of green-and-red lights, his posture relaxed in that too-calm way that never means calm. A worn-out Santa hat hangs off his head like it’s survived too many winters, frayed brim, the white puffball gone gray at the edges. He rolls something between his fingers, maybe a candy cane, maybe not, watching the world like a spider watches vibrations.
On the floor in front of him, Twisted Sister is sprawled like a kid in the living room on Christmas morning… except the vibe is all wrong. Her hair spills around her face in messy ribbons, and her knees are tucked under her as she scribbles rapidly in a glossy, glitter-covered Barbie journal. The cover is bright and cheerful, pink, shiny, ridiculous, while her pen scratches across the pages with an intensity that makes the carol in the background sound like a warning.
The camera shifts, catching the way she pauses to press the pen harder, like she’s carving words into paper.
Footsteps approach, careful. Slow.
Pussy Willow comes into frame with the cautious energy of someone walking past a sleeping dog that might not be asleep. She keeps a polite distance, eyes flicking from Anthrax’s hat to the journal to the way Twisted Sister doesn’t look up at all.
Pussy Willow: Uh… hey. So… what are you two up to back here?
Anthrax turns his head in lazy increments, the smile he wears arriving before any warmth does. He gestures vaguely toward Twisted Sister with a tilt of his chin, like the answer is obvious and the question is the funniest thing he’s heard all night.
Anthrax: What’s it look like we’re doing?
Pussy Willow swallows, her gaze snagging on the Barbie logo like her brain is trying to make it make sense. She forces a small laugh that doesn’t land, then tries a guess anyway.
Pussy Willow: Writing a letter to Santa?
Anthrax’s eyes brighten, and he lets out a low laugh that carries just a little too far down the hallway. It blends with the distant carols and somehow makes them sound off-key.
Anthrax: Good guess!
He leans forward in the chair, elbows on knees, suddenly animated in a way that feels like leaning toward a cage.
Anthrax: But we already got what we wanted.
His grin sharpens as he glances down at Twisted Sister. She doesn’t stop writing. She doesn’t even blink, just keeps scribbling like the page owes her something.
Anthrax: Or, she did. Twisted Sister got Cassie Wolfe at Inception VIII!
Twisted Sister’s pen scratches louder for a second, then she flips the page with a crisp snap, like turning a calendar into a worse month.
Anthrax: A Playhouse Match!
The name hangs in the air like a bauble that’s heavier than it looks. Pussy Willow shifts her weight back a step without meaning to. Her voice comes out smaller, careful, like she’s trying not to set off a tripwire.
Pussy Willow: Speaking of, what exactly is a Twisted Sister Playhouse match?
Anthrax’s grin fades into something eerily sincere. The sudden seriousness is worse than the laughter, like a room going quiet right before the lights go out.
Anthrax: That…
He nods toward the journal, and for the first time Twisted Sister pauses, lifting her pen and staring at the page like she’s listening to it breathe.
Anthrax: …is what we’re writing to Santa for.
Pussy Willow’s brow furrows.
Anthrax: See, everybody thinks Santa’s list is about “nice” and “naughty,” right? Like it’s a moral thing.
He taps the side of his Santa hat with one finger, making the frayed brim bounce.
Anthrax: But it’s really about limits.
Twisted Sister’s mouth curls into a quiet smile as she resumes writing, the pen moving faster now. The glittery cover catches the flickering light and throws pink reflections up the wall like a child’s dream, except the shadows behind it look too long.
Anthrax: We’re asking Santa to show us…
He speaks like he’s reading from a manual, calm and measured, voice steady in a way that makes the words worse.
Anthrax: …just how much we can get away with without being put on the Naughty List.
Pussy Willow blinks, and her throat works like it’s trying to find a safer subject. The carol on the speaker shifts into a soft “Silent Night,” but the way it echoes down the hallway makes it feel like a lullaby for something that doesn’t sleep. Pussy Willow takes another step back. Then another.
Pussy Willow: Right. Okay. Cool. Um, Merry Christmas, then.
Anthrax’s grin returns instantly, wide and delighted, like a kid being told he can stay up past bedtime. He lifts his hand and waves slowly, fingers curling in a playful little wiggle.
Anthrax: Bye-bye!
Pussy Willow backs away down the corridor, careful not to turn her back too fast, and the camera lingers on Anthrax’s waving hand for a beat too long. Twisted Sister keeps scribbling in her Barbie journal, the pen scratching like tiny claws, while the Christmas lights above them flicker and flicker and flicker.
Simone: Welcome back to Climax Control! At Inception VIII Vincent Lyons Jr. will defend the Roulette Title against Logan Hunter but tonight he takes on the ever popular Ryan Keys in singles non-title action with Logan and the Shields Sisters on commentary.
Lunam: We will be joined by Logan once Ryan and Vincent make their entrances after which we’ll learn what match type they’ll compete under because since this is the Christmas Special there is a special Christmas themed wheel at play!
Simone: Let’s take it to Justin!
Justin: The following non-title match is scheduled for one fall!
The arena goes dark, then bursts alive with flashing neon strobes. As “I’m Made of Wax, Larry…” hits, Ryan Keys explodes onto the stage with infectious energy. He spreads his arms wide, sunglasses glinting, before jogging side-to-side to pump the crowd. Ryan points to the fans, slaps hands down the ramp, and slides dramatically into the ring. He leaps onto the turnbuckle, tossing his shades into the crowd before striking a playful pose. With a grin and a wink, Ryan hops down, bouncing on his feet, ready to turn the match into his dance floor.
Justin: Introducing first, from Las Vegas, Nevada, weighing 225ibs, “The Life of the Party” RYAN KEYS!
Simone: Ryan has been impressive since he returned to SCW but we’ll see how he does against Vincent tonight!
Lunam: Especially with the Christmas Stipulations at play!
Justin: AND HIS OPPONENT!
The lights dim, as a lions roar is heard. Vincent Lyons Jr appears on the stage in a black jacket as "Wretched and Divine" by Black Veil Brides starts. Vincent appears on stage, he looks around and makes a slow walk to the ring, looking at the fans cautiously. Once ringside, he rolls climbs into the ring and goes straight to a corner, where he sits and waits quietly.
Justin: From Charlotte, North Carolina, weighing 225ibs he is the SCW Roulette Champion “The Chosen” VINCENT LYONS JR.!
Simone: Speaking of impressive, Vincent has been on a tear since he was awarded the Roulette Title after Guy With A Cape’s departure.
Lunam: And Logan has been chasing him ever since!
Both men stare each other down as they wait for the bell to ring.
Simone: Well folks, Vincent and Ryan are in the ring waiting for the match to start but we are due to be joined on commentary by Vincent’s challenger for Inception VIII Logan Hunter and the Shields Twins.
Lunam: Unfortunately.
As Ryan and Vincent stare each other down a familiar jingle starts to play before……….
“Logan got ran over by a reindeer
A mock-up of “Grandma Got Ran Over By A Reindeer” plays complete with a mock-up titantron and Logan is literally being dragged out by Brooke and Marissa Shields on a giant Santa Sleigh. Logan is dressed as Santa, complete with fat suit, while the twins are dressed as elves.
Walking out of Climax Control last week
Brooke says she doesn’t need to apologize to Pussy
And Marissa is having too much fun with this.”
Simone: …………..well, it is the Christmas Special!
Lunam: IS HE POUTING?!
Vincent is dying of laughter in the ring while Ryan is doing his best to keep a straight face, all the while Logan is glaring daggers at them.
Justin: Introducing our Special Guest Commentators: Logan Clause and his elves!
They eventually park up near the commentary and Logan remains in the sleigh while the twins join commentary.
Simone: Brooke……………..
Brooke: DON’T!
Simone: I was going to say that you and Marissa look lovely in those outfits.
Marissa: She’s just grumpy because Evelyn threatened to fine her if she ruined any child’s Christmas while on commentary.
Brooke: Fucking bullshit!
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Gentlemen! Are you ready to learn what match type you’ll be competing under?
All eyes turn to the titentron where Rocky appears with her Christmas outfit on. She spins the Christmas wheel and it stops on…………
Simone: Mistletoe Mayhem Kiss Off Match?!
Brooke: What the hell is that?
Lunam: You got me!
Marissa: This doesn’t bode well.
Rocky gets a message over her earpiece and BARELY contains her laughter.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Okay! Okay! I can do this! There is a giant mistletoe hung above the ring! Only way to win is to kiss your opponent!
Simone: Oh my god!
Logan can be heard laughing hysterically while Ryan and Vincent look mortified.
Lunam: Should we be worried about Logan’s laughter?
Marissa: YES!
Brooke: YES!
Dawn calls for the bell!
DING DING DING!
Once Vincent and Ryan get over their shock they start trading blows in the middle of the ring, then Ryan, in an apparent attempt to get this match over and done with as soon as possible, goes in for a kiss but Vincent counters the kiss with a headbutt before scoring with a Snap Suplex. Vincent, clearly praying for a shot of liquid courage at this point, goes in for a kiss of his own but Ryan counters with a triangle choke.
Simone: Two kiss attempts so far and they were countered by a headbutt and a Triangle Choke and I can’t believe I just said that!
Brooke: Usually if a guy’s trying to kiss me while I’m on my back and a camera’s rolling they have to buy me dinner first! Especially if there’s choking involved!
Marissa: KEEP IT CLEAN BROOKE!
Lunam: KEEP IT CLEAN BROOKE!
Logan is still laughing from the sleigh but because submissions don’t count in this match, Dawn can’t really do much.
Dawn: Ryan, you have to kiss Vincent to win!
Ryan: I’m trying to wear him down before I can kiss him!
Simone: Thank god Christmas only comes once a year, I don’t want to see this on another Roulette Wheel!
Brooke: I mean, it makes things interesting.
Marissa: My younger sister isn’t wrong.
Lunam: Unfortunately!
However the distraction allows Vincent to get free of the hold and straight up punches Ryan in the balls! Dawn gets in his face about it on instinct but then Vincent points out what she just said to Ryan and Dawn’s facial expression says it all. Then Logan gets off the sleigh and grabs a headset.
Logan: BROOKE! YOU MUST GO IN THE RING AND KISS VINCENT!
Brooke: Like hell! You kiss him!
Logan: I AM NOT KISSING CHRISTIAN’S CHOSEN CHAMPION!
Marissa: Get back on the damn sleigh Logan.
Simone: I could be spending time with my family tonight, there’s only four days until Christmas!
Lunam: Me too Belinda, me too!
Logan puts down the headset and returns to the sleigh while Vincent sees Ryan getting back to his feet while clutching his balls. Vincent once again tries to grab Ryan’s head for another kiss attempt. Ryan reacts immediately by kissing Vincent on the cheek and acting like he’s won, then Dawn gets a message from the back.
Dawn: Kiss has to be on the forehead to count!
Vincent and Ryan: NOW YOU TELL US?!
Marissa: I’m actually with them, you’d think they’d have conveyed that earlier.
Simone: I think Rocky was too busy trying not to laugh.
Brooke: Still not kissing Vincent! I can do a lot better.
Lunam: Then exp[lain why you’re dating Logan!
Marissa audibly snorts at Erick’s comeback while Brooke glares daggers at the Irish commentator, but back in the ring Vincent goes for the kiss on the forehead. Ryan responds by shocking him away and hitting a spear! Ryan realizes that he has a chance to end this and goes for a kiss but Vincent counters with a small package.
Simone: That counter would work in a regular match admittedly!
Brooke: The amount of times I’ve encountered a small package while on my back…………
Marissa: And all of them involved Logan!
Lunam: Damn it! The decent Shields Sister stole my joke.
Brooke: WHAT DO YOU MEAN DECENT?!
While all this is going on Logan has hopped on the ring apron using the sleigh to help him up with the sack in hand. Meanwhile Vincent has broken the small package and both men get back to their feet when suddenly… Ryan kisses Vincent on the lips!
Brooke: FINALLY A KISS!
Lunam: It doesn’t count though!
Marissa: Pretty sure Ryan had two goals: stun Vincent and make half the ladies here hot and bothered,
Simone: I hate how much sense that makes.
Vincent is gagging from the kiss when Ryan grabs his arm and sends him towards Logan! But Vincent has the wherewithal to still reverse it when he sees Logan swinging his sack (NOT THAT SACK) and Ryan gets a face full of it, spinning him around and allowing Vincent to plant the kiss on his forehead! Vincent then drops Ryan with his Lyons Roar DDT Finisher for good measure.
DING! DING! DING!
Justin: Ladies and gentlemen Ryan Keys has been kissed on the forehead, therefore the winner of the match, the SCW Roulette Champion VINCENT LYONS JR.!
Simone: Finally the madness ends! And more importantly Vincent gets a win in his last match of the year!
Lunam: Brooke and Marissa have left the commentary table and………….
Logan has entered the ring and waits for Vincent to be handed his title, at which point Logan spins him around and hits the Divine Right of Kings (Fisherman’s Brainbuster).
Simone: And of course, Logan had to get the final say.
Lunam: He’s asking for a mic too.
Logan takes the mic and looms over Vincent with the Roulette Title in his hand.
Logan: Into the Void, I finally ascended to my destiny, I won this title only for a clow to steal it!
Logan seethes as he leans in.
Logan: At Inception VIII I WILL RECLAIM MY THRONE! Your reign only exists because I permit it! Enjoy your final Christmas as champion Lyons because 2026 WILL BE THE YEAR OF THE LORD OF ALL THAT IS GOLDEN! LOGAN HUNTER WILL BE CHAMPION AGAIN!
Logan drops the mic and the title before joining Marissa and Brooke at ringside where he gets back on the sleigh. Meanwhile Dawn checks on both Ryan and Vincent.
A perfectly decorated living room. Tree sparkling. Cookies on a plate. Everything looks suspiciously tidy, like nobody actually lives here.
Narrator: It’s the most wonderful time of the year, unless you’ve ever thought: “Wow. This room looks too functional.”
Cassie Wolfe strides in wearing a festive blazer, holding a bright can labeled in glittery letters: INSTANT SNOW SPRAY (FOR INDOORS ONLY). She smiles like she’s about to ruin your entire evening on purpose.
Cassie: Hi! I’m Cassie Wolfe, and do you love the idea of a winter wonderland, but hate the “wonder” part?
Narrator: Introducing Instant Snow Spray (For Indoors Only) , the revolutionary new holiday product that’s basically just white foam that clings to everything and destroys all joy.
Cassie: It’s like snow! If snow was sticky, emotionally draining, and had the texture of whipped regret.
Cassie shakes the can like it owes her money.
Narrator: Simply spray it anywhere to instantly transform your home into a magical, festive, catastrophe.
Cassie: Let’s see it in action!
Cassie aims at a small decorative plant and gives it a quick spritz. The foam blooms outward like a cheerful mistake.
Cassie: Aw, look! The plant is now unrecognizable.
Narrator: Want that “fresh snowfall” look? Spray your tree!
Cassie spritzes the Christmas tree. The foam lands, then slowly slides down like it’s searching for new surfaces to ruin.
Cassie: Beautiful. My ornaments now look like they’ve been through a custody battle.
Narrator: Try it on your mantle! Your stockings! Your wreath! Your couch! Your pets!
Cassie: [quickly] Not the pets. We’re not doing that. I’m chaotic, not a monster!
Cassie sprays the mantle. The foam instantly clings to a framed family photo.
Cassie: Oh no. It’s sticking to the memories. It’s sticking to the past!
Narrator: And unlike ordinary “snow” décor, Instant Snow Spray has a patented formula that refuses to leave.
Cassie: Watch this!
Cassie grabs a paper towel and gently dabs. The foam spreads like gossip.
Cassie: Great. Now the towel is snowing. I’ve created a snow towel. Put it on my résumé.
Narrator: Try wiping with water! Try soap! Try bargaining!
Cassie spritzes a tiny bit on a coffee table, then pours a little water on it. The foam responds by expanding and migrating to a decorative bowl.
Cassie: It's evolving. It’s learning my weaknesses.
Narrator: And if you call in the next 10 minutes, you’ll also receive a FREE Coupon for Regret , redeemable anytime you glance at what you’ve done and whisper, “Why.”
Cassie: Mine came pre-signed.
Cassie holds up a shiny coupon that reads: “ONE (1) REGRET , VALID FOREVER.” She tucks it into her pocket with the confidence of someone who’s made peace with consequences.
Narrator: Imagine your guests walking in,
A “Guest” actor enters, smiling. Immediately steps on a patch of foam, shoe squeaks, foot sticks slightly, then releases with a sad sound.
Guest: Why is your floor whispering?
Cassie: That’s the holiday spirit leaving your body.
Narrator: Perfect for:
Holiday parties
Family gatherings
Passive-aggressive hosting
Making sure nobody ever asks you to host again
Cassie: It’s also great for anyone who loves seasonal ambiance and hates free will.
Cassie sprays a little near the fireplace. The foam drifts onto a wrapped gift and bonds with the ribbon like it’s forming a lifelong attachment.
Cassie: Congratulations, present. You live here now.
Narrator: Order today and you’ll get two cans,one for your home, and one for the enemy of your choice.
Cassie: Or keep both. You’ll need the second one for when you try to cover up what the first one did.
Cassie gestures to the room. There are now random patches of white foam everywhere: garland, couch arm, stockings, a bowl of ornaments, one suspiciously frothy corner.
Narrator: But wait,there’s more! Each can includes our exclusive Holiday Excuse Generator, featuring classic lines like:
Cassie: “It was like that when I got here.”
“Pinterest made me do it.”
“I’m experimenting.”
“It’s, performance art.”
Narrator: Important safety note: Do not use outdoors. It’s not made for that. It’s made for indoor consequences.
Cassie: Which is beautiful, because consequences are where the memories live.
Cassie gives a proud thumbs-up. A clump of foam falls off the tree and lands on her shoulder. She doesn’t react. She’s accepted her fate.
Narrator: Instant Snow Spray (For Indoors Only) , the only holiday product brave enough to ask: “What if cozy, but sticky?”
Cassie: Call now. Make your home a winter wonderland of minor despair. And remember,
Cassie leans into the camera like she’s delivering a serious wrestling promo.
Cassie: If it comes off easily, it’s not festive enough.
Simone: Folks, tonight is Winter Wonderslam, the final episode of SCW Climax Control of 2025, and it’s all in support of Toys 4 Tots!
Lunam: And our World Heavyweight Champion, Helluva Bottom Carter, didn’t just talk about it. He lived it. Earlier this week, Carter teamed up with his husband, Miles Kasey, for a toy-shopping trip with a group of local kids.
Simone: Let’s take you to that footage.
The footage rolls...
A crisp winter afternoon. The Target storefront glows bright and red against pale winter light. The doors slide open and a small group approaches with carts, volunteers, and excited energy that makes the moment feel like it’s already a celebration.
Helluva Bottom Carter steps into frame in a teal colored hoodie, jeans, and sneakers, with the World Heavyweight Title slung over his shoulder anyway, because Carter is Carter. Beside him is Miles Kasey, holiday sweater under a jacket, the kind of easy smile that tells you he’s already got a joke locked and loaded. He has a Santa hat in one hand, like he’s deciding if he’s brave enough to commit. Miles immediately plops the Santa hat onto Carter’s head without warning.
Miles: There. Now you’re approachable.
HBCarter: I was approachable.
Miles: You were intimidating with good intentions. Different vibe.
The kids laugh, the volunteers laugh, and even Carter’s mouth twitches like he’s losing a fight he’s fine with losing. They hold the doors for the kids as they enter.
HBCarter: Alright, rule one: stay with the group. Rule two: you pick something you’d love and something you think another kid would love. We do both.
Miles points at the title.
Miles: Also rule three. No one challenges Carter for the belt in Aisle Twelve.
Kid #1: Is that the real championship?
Carter tilts it so the gold catches the light.
HBCarter: Real as it gets. But today? That’s the side quest.
He gestures toward the toy section.
HBCarter: The main event is that aisle right there.
Miles: And I’m your guest commentator, which means I get to say “ooh” and “ahh” dramatically at everything.
He demonstrates immediately, swooning at a display of plushies.
Miles: Ooooh. A teddy bear with vibes.
The toy section opens up like a bright maze of color. The kids roll carts forward, buzzing with choice. Carter stays close, steady. Miles floats between the group like a hype man in a holiday sweater.
Volunteer: They’ve been talking about this all week.
Miles leans toward the camera, conspiratorial.
Miles: Same. I’ve also been talking about it all week.
Carter shoots him a look.
HBCarter: About the kids?
Miles: About the toys. Don’t act like you didn’t practice your “champion approves” face in the mirror.
Carter’s expression does not change, which is exactly why it works.
Kid #2: This one goes really fast!
Carter takes it, flips it over, reads the box like it’s a scouting report.
HBCarter: “All-terrain.” “Long-range remote.” “High-impact durability.” ... Yeah. This is built like someone who’s ready for a comeback story.
Miles nods solemnly.
Miles: Put it in the cart. We’re pushing this rookie.
The kid laughs and drops it into the cart like it’s the greatest decision they’ve ever made.
Kid #3: This one goes really fast!
Carter kneels, patient.
HBCarter: What’s the one you’d be excited to open?
The kid points at the board game, then hesitates.
Kid #3: But what if the other kid doesn’t like it?
Miles crouches too, matching the kid’s level.
Miles: Hey, if you’re thinking that hard about someone else, you’re already doing it right.
He taps the game box.
Miles: And this? This is a “family tag-team” game. That’s a holiday staple.
Carter nods once, approving Miles’ assist. The kid smiles and puts the board game in the cart, relief blooming into pride.
Miles dramatically “announcing” toys in a whisper like he’s ringside: “From the corner of Aisle Nine… weighing in at ONE THOUSAND PIECES… THE PUZZLE OF DOOM!”
Carter “weighing in” a giant teddy bear by lifting it with one arm and setting it carefully in the cart.
A kid tests a Nerf blaster; Miles flops backward like he just got hit by a finisher, clutching his chest.
Carter reads a puzzle box and deadpans: “This says 1000 pieces. That’s not a toy. That’s a steel cage match for your brain.”
One kid picks an enormous playset. Miles stares at the camera, whispering: “We’re gonna need a bigger trunk.”
Carter grabs a second cart without comment. Miles points at him like: See? I told you.
The carts are fuller now, the kids proud in that glowing way only kids can be when they’ve done something that matters. Boxes and plushies pile onto the conveyor belt: action figures, puzzles, dolls, trucks, coloring sets, games.
A Toys 4 Tots bin waits nearby. At the end of the transaction, Carter holds the receipt as it prints. Miles takes it like it’s a title match result.
Miles: And the winner… by a receipt so long it has its own zip code… THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT!
The kids laugh. Carter shakes his head, but his eyes are warm. One by one, the kids place toys into the donation bin.
The video feed ends.
Simone: That is what a champion looks like.
Lunam: And Miles Kasey turning a toy run into a whole broadcast? Epoc!
Simone: Winter Wonderslam rolls on!
The camera returns to ringside and the whole scene looks like somebody took a classic holiday postcard and then dared two pro wrestlers to ruin it. The barricades are wrapped in thick green garland shot through with warm white lights, and the ringside mats have a dusting of faux “snow” scattered near the corners like glitter that escaped an overzealous stagehand. At each side of the ring sit the match’s signature weapons: two sturdy tables dressed up to look like Santa’s sleighs—trimmed in glossy red skirting with white “fur” edging, their legs fitted with oversized fake reindeer antlers that make them look equal parts festive and ridiculous until you remember they’re meant to break somebody’s back. Up close, the sleigh tables have little finishing touches that sell the theme: candy-cane striping on the sides, jingle-bell accents that tremble when the crowd stomps, and a few wrapped “present” props stacked nearby like bait. The lighting rigs bounce a soft winter glow off the red trim and the metallic ornaments, so every time the camera angle shifts you catch sparkles and reflections—pretty enough for a holiday parade, ominous enough for a stipulation that only ends when one of those sleighs gets turned into splinters.
Justin: The following contest is the Santa’s Sleigh Ride Tables match!
The crowd cheers!
Justin: The first Bombshell to put her opponent through the table wins the match!
The lights go down and "Cry Little Sister" by Lyric Noel starts to play. The arena is filled with Red and lights and fog. The Silhouette of Alexandra can be seen at the top of the ramp. She poses on the top of the ramp and as the beat drops, she starts to make her way down the ramp, towards the ring. Stopping halfway down the ramp, she stops looking out over the crowd, before continuing on. She smirks seeing some of the signs people made, a cocky smirk crosses her face.
Justin: From DALLAS, TX.. ALEXANDRA CALAWAY!!!!!
Finishing her walk down the ramp, she climbs onto the ring apron and up onto the turnbuckle. She slips into the ring and poses on the ropes, leaning forward on the ropes, sometimes talking shit with people in the front row. She watches up the ramp, messing with her hair as she waits for her opponent.
Lunam: Alexandra Calaway has big things ahead of her! Facing down the former World Champion tonight and challengin’ the Roulette Champion Alicia Lukas in three weeks!
Simone: Las Vegas can not come soon enough for Alexandra I am certain but she has got to keep her mind on Frankie Holliday tonight because Frankie will take any mistake and turn it against Alexandra!
Justin: And her opponent…!
The opening piano strokes of “Skeletons” by Wednesday 13 harbor the arrival of Frankie Holliday. As the guitar riffs begin to ramp up the song, Frankie parts the curtain. A sinister and knowing grin on her face as she doesn’t acknowledge the response in any way, walking down to the ring.
Justin: From Milwaukee, Wisconsin! Weighing one hundred and forty nine pounds … Frankie HOLLIDAY!!!
Once she hits the ringside area, she simply rolls under the bottom rope and sits in the corner, still with the grin across her lips. She even chuckles to herself as she readies herself for the match.
Simone: Frankie has a tough one tonight against Alexandra Calaway, and a tough one on January 11 in Las Vegas at Inception VIII!
Lunam: Does she ever, Bel! Amelia Reynolds has been aching for this match against Frankie for weeks! Frankie acts like Amelia is no big deal but she’s not a former World Champion and Blast From the Past winner for nothing!
Jacob Summers stands ready and calls for the bell!
DING DING DING!
The bell clangs and Frankie Holliday explodes out of her corner like she’s been shot from a cannon, no feeling-out process, no chain wrestling, just raw intent. Alexandra Calaway barely gets her hands up before a right-handed punch snaps her head sideways. Frankie follows with a second, a third, heavy brawler shots that thud through the winter-themed arena like a bass drum.
Lunam: Ahhh here we go now, Frankie’s after her like a dog after the Sunday roast, aye? No patience at all, just fists and fury.
Simone: That’s Holliday’s game. She doesn’t warm up, she wants to break you down immediately and take you on that ride outside.
Alexandra tries to angle away, to create space, but Frankie crowds her and drives a sharp body knee strike into the ribs. Alexandra folds a half-step, and Frankie seizes the opening with a nasty headbutt right to the bridge of the nose. Alexandra stumbles back, blinking, and Frankie rakes the eyes with a quick, shameless scrape of her fingernails.
Lunam: Oh that’s filth! That’s pure, dirty Christmas coal in the stocking!
Simone: The referee warns her, but warnings don’t matter in a Tables match. There’s no disqualification. Frankie knows that.
Alexandra swipes blindly, trying to catch Frankie’s wrist, but Frankie backs out of range and lashes a big boot that catches Alexandra’s chest and snaps her against the ropes. Alexandra rebounds forward, and Frankie meets her with a clothesline that turns her inside out. Alexandra hits the mat hard, shoulders rocking, and Frankie stomps once, twice, an ugly, deliberate rhythm like she’s wiping mud off her boots.
Frankie drags Alexandra by the hair, hauling her up into a snap suplex. Alexandra’s back slaps the canvas. Frankie doesn’t cover, she can’t win that way, and the lack of pin attempts makes the match feel even more predatory. Frankie wants damage, wants control, wants the crowd to watch her choose when Alexandra’s going through a sleigh-table.
Simone: You can’t win by pinfall or submission, only by putting your opponent through one of those decorated tables at ringside. Frankie’s trying to soften her up so she can drag her out there and finish it.
Lunam: Aye, and look at the tables! Red trim, wee antlers on the legs, adorable, till yer spine meets it at speed.
Alexandra scrambles to a knee, shaking out the cobwebs. Frankie grabs her from behind, hooks the waist, and yanks her into a belly-to-back backbreaker, Alexandra’s spine bends over Frankie’s knee and she cries out. Frankie shoves her down and adds a pinpoint elbow drop right across the shoulder blade. Alexandra’s arms flail as she absorbs it, rolling onto her side.
Lunam: That’s the kind of elbow that makes you see stars, big bright ones like the top of the tree.
Alexandra forces herself upright, jaw clenched. Frankie charges for another clothesline, but Alexandra ducks and pivots, catching Frankie with a sharp STO, Frankie’s face and chest drive into the mat. The momentum finally swings. Alexandra pushes to her feet and peppers Frankie with furious punches, short, compact shots that aren’t flashy but land clean and fast.
Simone: That’s Calaway’s blend. Technical base, but she can brawl when she has to.
Lunam: She’s not gonna be bullied, no, she’s givin’ it right back!
Frankie swings wild, trying to regain the bully’s rhythm. Alexandra slips inside the arc of the punch and lands a spin kick to the ribs. Frankie winces, turning her torso away, Alexandra follows with a bulldog, snapping Frankie down again. Alexandra stands over her, breathing hard, then points to the outside, straight at the sleigh tables.
The crowd surges, sensing where the match is headed.
Simone: Alexandra’s looking at the sleighs already. She knows: don’t let Frankie dictate when you go outside. You choose the timing.
Alexandra hooks Frankie’s arm and pulls her up, but Frankie resists, bracing her legs. She throws a sudden headbutt backward, catching Alexandra under the chin, and then a quick eye rake for good measure. Alexandra staggers, and Frankie capitalizes with a flatliner, spiking Alexandra into the canvas.
Lunam: Jaysus, she planted her like a fence post.
Frankie paces, jaw tight, eyes hard. She grabs Alexandra by the wrist and yanks her toward the corner. Alexandra scrambles, but Frankie kicks her behind the knee and jams her into the turnbuckles. Frankie climbs in close and drives a knee to the spine, then snaps Alexandra back with a reverse DDT combo, knee to spine, yank, and whiplash down she goes.
Simone: That combo will take your breath and your balance. Frankie’s trying to make Alexandra’s legs unreliable. Hard to fight a tables match when your base is gone.
Frankie points outward now, and the crowd boos, because they know she’s not pointing at the sleighs for holiday cheer. Frankie hooks Alexandra and slings her into a sitout rear mat-slam, an Edge-o-matic style drop, then immediately hauls her up again.
Alexandra lashes out with a forearm to Frankie’s jaw. Frankie answers with a right-handed punch that knocks Alexandra’s head sideways again. Frankie then scoops Alexandra suddenly, Samoan Drop! Alexandra crashes across Frankie’s shoulder and hits the canvas with a jolt that makes her curl.
Lunam: Ohhh that’s a bad landing, that is. Ye can feel that in yer teeth!
Frankie stands over her, breathing through her nose like a bull. She grabs Alexandra’s ankles and drags her toward the ropes, scraping her across the mat. Frankie leans down and barks something unheard, then stomps Alexandra’s midsection again, trying to sap the fight.
Alexandra kicks at Frankie’s shin, trying to create distance. Frankie bends to grab the legs, and Alexandra snaps up with a surprise V-Trigger knee, driving it into Frankie’s chest and jaw area. Frankie recoils, stunned, arms flaring out as she staggers backward.
Simone: V-Trigger! That’s a momentum changer. Frankie didn’t see it coming because she thought Alexandra was too hurt to explode.
Lunam: That’ll wake ye up faster than cold water to the face, aye!
Alexandra pushes forward with another V-Trigger, this time catching Frankie cleaner. Frankie falls into the ropes, bouncing back. Alexandra grabs her and hits a teardrop suplex, arching Frankie over and dropping her down with a snap. Frankie’s shoulders hit hard. Alexandra doesn’t hesitate, she grabs Frankie’s head and drives her into the mat with a curb stomp!
The crowd pops like fireworks in a snowstorm.
Simone: Curb stomp! In a tables match, that’s devastating because it disorients you. You don’t know where you are, and suddenly you’re being dragged outside.
Alexandra points again, this time more urgent, and grabs Frankie by the arm, dragging her toward the ropes. Frankie clutches at Alexandra’s wrist, trying to slow her, and rakes the eyes again, pure panic and malice. Alexandra releases instinctively, blinking, and Frankie swings a big boot that catches Alexandra’s shoulder and collarbone, rocking her backward.
Frankie hooks Alexandra in close, lifts, release gourdbuster! Alexandra’s ribs and abdomen slam down across Frankie’s shoulder and then drop into the mat. Alexandra coughs, rolling away.
Lunam: That’s rotten. That’s the kind of move that makes ye taste pennies.
Frankie wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist, eyes darting to the sleigh tables at ringside, then back to Alexandra. She drags Alexandra up by the arm and throws her toward the ropes, Alexandra rebounds and Frankie catches her, gutbuster. Alexandra folds in half over Frankie’s knee.
Simone: Frankie keeps targeting the midsection and back. If Alexandra can’t lift, she can’t put Frankie through a table.
Frankie grabs Alexandra’s head, tucks it under her arm, piledriver position, and the crowd gasps, half in dread, half in anticipation. Frankie lifts… Alexandra wriggles, twisting her hips, forcing Frankie’s balance to wobble. Alexandra drops behind Frankie and shoves her forward into the corner instead.
Alexandra charges and hits a running dropkick to Frankie’s back, driving her chest-first into the turnbuckles. Frankie rebounds out, and Alexandra catches her with an STO again, dropping Frankie to the mat. Alexandra wipes her eyes, refocusing, and then darts to the ropes. Alexandra launches, suicide dive! She threads the ropes and crashes into Frankie at the edge of the ring area, sending both women tumbling onto the padded floor. The holiday décor shakes with the impact. One of the sleigh tables rattles ominously, antlers wobbling.
Lunam: OHHH! She’s after throwin’ herself like a feckin’ missile!
Simone: That’s the risk in a tables match. You can’t be careful forever. Sometimes you have to gamble, and Alexandra just did.
Both women are down outside. Frankie is first to stir, pushing to her knees with a grimace. Alexandra crawls to the barricade, using it to stand. Frankie stands too, and immediately slaps Alexandra across the face, a sharp, disrespectful crack. Alexandra’s eyes narrow. She answers with a punch. Frankie answers with a punch. The brawl ignites right there on the floor, a winter wonderland turning into a street fight.
Lunam: This is where Frankie lives, outside the ring, no rules, just scrap and spite.
Simone: Alexandra can fight here too, but Frankie’s been building her career on chaos like this.
Frankie grabs Alexandra and swings her into the ring post, Alexandra stops herself at the last second, hands catching the steel. Frankie charges, Alexandra sidesteps and Frankie’s shoulder slams into the post instead. Frankie howls, clutching her arm. Alexandra seizes that opening and slams Frankie’s arm down on the apron, once, twice.
Simone: Smart targeting. If Frankie can’t lift, she can’t power Alexandra onto a table.
Alexandra turns toward the sleigh tables, dragging Frankie by the wrist. Frankie resists, planting her feet and yanking Alexandra close for a headbutt. Alexandra stumbles, and Frankie uses the moment to whip Alexandra toward one of the sleigh tables. Alexandra leaps onto the table at the last second, landing on top of it instead of crashing through it, balancing like a cat on a rooftop. The reindeer antlers on the legs jiggle beneath her.
Lunam: Sweet mother of, she landed on the sleigh!
Simone: Incredible awareness. If she’d hit wrong, she could’ve lost right there.
Frankie lunges to shove Alexandra off, but Alexandra hops down to the far side and snaps a spin kick that catches Frankie’s shoulder, right where she hit the post. Frankie recoils, and Alexandra grabs her from behind, Air Raid Crash setup, she tries to hoist Frankie, but Frankie’s weight and resistance make it messy. Frankie elbows Alexandra in the side and turns, grabbing Alexandra by the throat, chokeslam threat. The crowd roars as Frankie grips tight and drives Alexandra backward, slamming her spine-first into the barricade. Alexandra’s face twists in pain.
Frankie then hoists Alexandra off the barricade and drops her with a sitout spinebuster, Sky High, right on the floor mats. Alexandra bounces, air leaving her lungs.
Lunam: That’s it now, Frankie’s after flattenin’ her like a pancake on the griddle.
Simone: And look where they are, right beside the sleigh tables. One wrong move, and it’s over.
Frankie grabs Alexandra’s hair and drags her toward the nearest sleigh table, the red trim gleaming under the lights. Frankie slams Alexandra’s face into the edge of the apron, then points at the table as if announcing the finish. Frankie hooks Alexandra’s arms and tries to lift for a suplex to the outside, Alexandra counters, shifting her hips and landing behind Frankie. Alexandra shoves Frankie forward, and Frankie stumbles, Alexandra grabs Frankie’s waist and hits a sharp German-style pop, a teardrop suplex variation on the floor that sends Frankie’s back into the mats with a nasty thud.
Simone: Alexandra’s digging deep. Those suplexes on the floor change your whole body.
Lunam: Aye, and Frankie’s starin’ at the sky like she’s tryin’ to remember her own name.
Alexandra inhales, then drags Frankie up by the arm and rolls her back into the ring, choosing to reset the battlefield instead of risking a messy finish outside. Alexandra slides in after her and immediately drives a senton bomb onto Frankie’s torso. Frankie coughs, ribs compressing. Alexandra stands and stomps Frankie once, hard, then pulls her up. Alexandra tries for a sharpshooter, turning Frankie over and hooking the legs, but Frankie kicks and scrambles, clawing her way to the ropes even though rope breaks don’t mean anything for a submission finish. It’s reflex, survival.
Lunam: Old habits, aye, she’s lookin’ for the ropes even though it won’t save her from a hold.
Simone: But it can give her leverage to stand. In a tables match, you’re always thinking about base.
Alexandra releases and yanks Frankie up, driving her into the corner. Alexandra snaps a running forearm smash, then another. Frankie slumps into a seated position in the corner. Alexandra backs up and charges, running dropkick to the corner, smashing Frankie’s chest and snapping her head back. Frankie spills sideways onto the mat.
The crowd claps and stomps, feeding Alexandra’s surge.
Simone: Alexandra’s building pressure. Frankie’s losing control, and that’s dangerous for a heel who thrives on dictating the pace.
Alexandra reaches down and grabs Frankie’s arm, trying to pull her up, Frankie suddenly hooks Alexandra’s head and snaps her down into a guillotine choke. The audience groans as Frankie cinches it tight, squeezing with brawler stubbornness.
Lunam: Ohhh she’s tryin’ to take her head clean off. Frankie’s got that clamped in like a vice.
Simone: Even though she can’t win by submission, she can drain Alexandra. Make her panic, make her waste oxygen.
Alexandra thrashes, trying to pry Frankie’s hands apart. Frankie squeezes tighter, legs locking. Alexandra’s boots kick against the mat. Slowly, Alexandra shifts her weight, rolling her hips, and stacks Frankie up into a tight fold, forcing Frankie to release or risk being crushed under her own position. Frankie lets go with a snarl, and Alexandra scrambles to her feet. Frankie charges, Alexandra pivots and plants a crisp STO again, dropping Frankie for the third time like a recurring nightmare. Alexandra wipes sweat from her brow and points to the outside one more time, this time the crowd rises, sensing the endgame.
Lunam: She’s callin’ her shot now, Simone, she’s sayin’, “Right. We’re goin’ sleigh ridin’.”
Simone: She has to be careful. Frankie’s most dangerous when she’s desperate.
Alexandra drags Frankie toward the ropes, and this time she doesn’t hesitate, she hauls Frankie through the ropes to the apron, then drops down to the floor with her, maintaining wrist control. Frankie tries to kick free, but Alexandra ducks and snaps a quick forearm across Frankie’s face, then another. Frankie’s head jerks with each impact. Alexandra pulls Frankie toward the nearest sleigh table, one of the legs has fake antlers, the red trim glinting like ribbon. Alexandra sets Frankie up and shoves her chest-first onto the table surface, then climbs onto the apron to gain height.
Simone: Alexandra’s thinking elevation. She wants a clean, definitive break.
Frankie pushes up, trying to crawl off the table, but Alexandra leaps from the apron, split-legged moonsault attempt, Frankie rolls off at the last possible second. Alexandra crashes belly-first onto the sleigh table, and it holds, barely. The table shudders, antlers wobbling like they’re about to fall off. Alexandra grabs her ribs, wincing.
Lunam: Ahhh no! She took the whole sleigh to the gut and it didn’t even break, cruel luck!
Simone: That’s the danger. If you miss, you don’t just waste a move, you give your opponent a window to end you.
Frankie seizes that window like a thief in the night. She yanks Alexandra off the table by the arm and slams her down on the floor with a brutal gutbuster variation, driving Alexandra’s midsection into her knee, then tossing her aside. Frankie roars at the crowd, then grabs Alexandra and tries to haul her up for a power move, she hooks for a suplex toward the table, Alexandra blocks, planting her feet. Frankie headbutts her again. Alexandra sways.
Frankie tries to lift, Alexandra twists out and snaps a sudden chokeslam of her own, one-handed, explosive, sending Frankie down hard on the floor mats. Frankie’s eyes go wide as she hits, shock rippling across her face.
Lunam: OHHH! A chokeslam! Alexandra’s after droppin’ her like a sack o’ potatoes!
Simone: That was pure power. Frankie thought she owned that kind of fight. Alexandra just proved she can match it.
Alexandra staggers, shaking out her arms, then grabs Frankie by the head and drags her toward the sleigh table again. Frankie’s boots scrape the mats. Alexandra hoists Frankie up and lays her across the table, Frankie’s back flat, arms flailing. Frankie tries to sit up, but Alexandra slams a forearm across her chest and climbs onto the apron again, higher risk, higher reward. The crowd is on its feet, hands waving, voices rising like a storm.
Simone: Alexandra’s going back to the well after that moonsault miss. That takes nerve.
Lunam: That’s not nerve, that’s pure stubborn heart, “I missed once, so I’ll hit it twice,” aye?
Frankie rolls slightly, trying to slide off the table. Alexandra jumps down instead, choosing control over height. She hooks Frankie’s legs, turning her, Sharpshooter setup, but not for a submission, she uses it to drag Frankie’s body back into position, pulling her center mass onto the middle of the table like she’s anchoring her. Frankie claws at the table edge, trying to pull herself free. Alexandra releases and plants a V-Trigger knee to Frankie’s side, knocking the wind out of her. Frankie slumps again across the sleigh surface.
Simone: That V-Trigger was about positioning. Frankie can’t protect herself if she can’t breathe.
Alexandra steps back and looks at the apron, then at Frankie, then at the table. She nods once, a decision made. Alexandra hops up onto the apron, crouches, and then launches with a guillotine leg drop, driving her leg across Frankie’s upper chest and neck line..
CRACK!
The sleigh table explodes beneath them in a shower of splintered wood and red trim, the fake antlers snapping off and skittering across the floor like tossed toys. Frankie’s body drops through the wreckage, arms flung out, and Alexandra lands amidst the debris, rolling off instinctively.
The referee immediately signals for the bell.
DING-DING-DING!
Lunam: THAT’S IT! Sleigh ride complete! She’s after puttin’ her right through it, broken table, broken pride, the whole bleedin’ lot!
Simone: Alexandra Calaway wins the Santa’s Sleigh Ride Tables Match! After surviving Frankie’s brawling, the eye rakes, the headbutts, the guillotine, she delivers the leg drop and ends it decisively.
Justin: Here is your winner! Alexandra CALAWAY!!!
Alexandra pushes up to one knee in the wreckage, chest heaving, hair disheveled, eyes fierce. Frankie lies sprawled amid the shattered “sleigh,” staring up at the lights, blinking slowly like she can’t quite believe the holiday nightmare came true. The bell echoes out one last time, and the crowd roars as Winter Wonderslam gets its wonder, Alexandra standing tall over the broken sleigh and the broken plans of Frankie Holliday.
A corridor nook backstage at the Denver Coliseum has been dressed up like every production assistant’s idea of “festive but functional”, gaudy tinsel draped over road cases, a couple of space heaters humming, and a Toys 4 Tots bin that’s already overflowing with plushies and boxed sets. The SCW crew hustles past in headsets and lanyards, but in the middle of it all, Helluva Bottom Carter stands weirdly still.
In his hands is a plush Stitch, soft, a little lopsided from being hugged too hard, and held with a kind of care that doesn’t match the usual pre-match intensity. Carter turns it over, thumbs smoothing the ears, checking the stitching like it’s a priceless artifact instead of a toy.
Pussy Willow steps into frame, mic up, smile ready.
Pussy Willow: Helluva Bottom Carter, Carter, before you head out, I’ve gotta grab you for a quick second. Big tag team match tonight. You and Eddie Lyons against Alexander Raven and Brayden Williams. How are you feeling walking into that?
HBCarter: (still looking at the plush, then glancing up with a grin) I’m feeling… festive. No, but seriously, Eddie Lyons? That’s my guy. Eddie’s the kind of partner you want in a fight, because if things go sideways, he doesn’t look for an exit sign, he looks for your back. We’ve got trust. We’ve got instincts. We’ve got that unspoken “I’m already swinging before you even finish getting shoved” thing. And that’s something Raven and Brayden can’t say, because those two? They don’t have chemistry, they have a shared schedule.
Pussy Willow: That’s a pretty direct shot. What makes you so confident they can’t match your teamwork?
HBCarter: Oh, I’m not saying they can’t try. I’m saying when the pressure hits, you’re gonna see what they really are. Alexander Raven lives in his own little fantasy novel where he’s the tortured genius and everyone else is a supporting character. Delusional doesn’t even cover it, Raven’s got main-character syndrome with a paperback budget. And Brayden Williams? That kid wakes up every morning and thinks the world owes him a standing ovation for existing. Entitled. Like he’s never met a consequence he couldn’t complain his way out of. So yeah, Eddie and I? We’re a team. Raven and Brayden are a temporary alliance because neither one of them can stand being alone with their own thoughts for too long.
Pussy Willow: Strong words. Do you worry at all about what Raven can do in a match like this, though? He’s dangerous when he gets momentum.
HBCarter: Momentum? Sure. But momentum’s not the same as control. Raven’s dangerous the way a shopping cart with a busted wheel is dangerous, you don’t know where it’s going, but it’s not because it has a plan. Eddie and I have a plan. We have timing. We have communication. And when one of us gets clipped, the other one doesn’t panic, we adapt. That’s the difference between a tag team and two dudes sharing ring space.
Pussy Willow: Alright. Carter, thank you for your time, good luck out there tonight.
HBCarter: Appreciate you, Willow.
Pussy Willow: Before I let you go though, I have to ask… what’s with the Stitch plush? Because I swear I saw one just like that in the Toys 4 Tots collection earlier.
Carter’s smile freezes for half a beat. He looks down at the plush like it suddenly gained the ability to incriminate him. His mouth opens, closes, then opens again, no sound coming out at first except a quiet, guilty exhale.
HBCarter: That is, okay, so, first of all, allegedly. Second, this is … I’m just … examining it. For, uh, quality control. You know. For the kids.
A voice slides into the conversation from just off-frame, smooth and amused.
Miles: Quality control.
Santa Miles steps beside his husband, dressed and ready for his own night, eyes flicking immediately to the plush with the exact expression of someone who has absolutely been looking for it.
Miles: I was wondering where that went.
Carter’s shoulders lift in a tiny, busted shrug, caught, but still trying to look cool about it.
HBCarter: Babe, I was literally, just, making sure it wasn’t defective.
Santa Miles doesn’t even argue. He just holds his hand out, palm up, patient and expectant like he’s waiting on a very small fine.
Miles: Mhm. Hand it over, Officer Quality Control.
Carter stares at the plush for one last second, then sighs in dramatic defeat and places Stitch into Santa Miles’s hand like he’s surrendering a beloved hostage.
HBCarter: This is devastating.
Miles: (tucking it against his side) It’s donation season, sweetheart.
Pussy Willow: (smiling as she backs out) Merry Christmas, gentlemen.
HBCarter & Miles: Merry Christmas.
Carter watches Santa Miles walk the plush toward the Toys 4 Tots bin, then turns back to camera with a resigned, playful sigh.
Justin Decent stands once more at the center of the six-sided, Christmas-dressed ring, the garland shimmering as he raises his microphone. The crowd is already hot, already humming, like they can feel something fun is about to happen again.
Justin: Ladies and gentlemen, Denver! Are you ready for a little more holiday magic tonight?
The roar that answers him is immediate and eager.
Justin: Then please welcome back SCW’s Hostess With the Mostess… MISS AMANDA HUGGINKISS!
The arena lights shift toward the stage, and the cheers swell into a rolling wave as Amanda steps out from behind the curtain.
Tonight she’s traded the playful, flirty sparkle for something a little more formal. She’s wearing a gorgeous Christmas-red gown that drapes elegantly to mid-calf, the fabric rich and glossy under the lights. A tasteful slit flashes just enough leg when she moves, and the bodice is fitted and structured, with subtle gold embroidery tracing holly leaves along the neckline like delicate jewelry sewn into the dress. Long satin gloves, deep green, almost emerald, reach past her elbows, and a slim gold belt cinches her waist. Her hair is styled in soft, polished waves, and her makeup glows with a warm holiday shimmer, like she stepped straight out of a classic winter gala and decided to bless wrestling fans instead of aristocrats.
She soaks in the applause with a gracious smile, lifting her hands and giving a refined little wave, then a playful wink that reminds everyone she’s still Amanda, even when she’s dressed like the classiest trouble you’ve ever seen. The music begins and so does her second performance of the night.
Amanda: Snowflakes on the window, cocoa on the stove,
Christmas lights are shining on the tinsel and the bows.
I wake up to the smell of pancakes in the air,
Hear two voices harmonizing carols down the stairs.
One’s in reindeer slippers, one’s in Santa socks,
Fighting over who forgot to set the oven clock.
They turn around and see me on the staircase in a grin,
And suddenly the whole world feels like home again.
People talk about a “normal” family scene,
But this is what the word “miracle” really means.
I’ve got my two daddies at Christmas,
They’re the brightest stars on my tree.
They wrapped the world in rainbow paper,
So I could grow up free.
No matter what the carols say,
This is how love looks to me.
With my two daddies at Christmas,
I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
We hang up all the stockings, each with glittered names,
There’s a picture from the pride parade in dollar-store frames.
One daddy checks the playlist, other burns the toast,
They’re both a little messy, but I love them both the most.
They taught me how to walk in heels and stand up tall,
How to love my chosen family when I felt so small.
When the world got cold and tried to dim my shine,
They said, “Baby, you’re the star on this tree of mine.”
We’re not in any storybook I read as a kid,
But somehow we wrote a happy ending that the writers never did.
I’ve got my two daddies at Christmas,
Snow is falling, hearts are warm.
They turned our living room in winter
To a safe and gentle storm.
And if the neighbors don’t understand,
We’ll just pour more warm chai tea.
With my two daddies at Christmas,
Love is all I’ll ever need.
There were times I wondered if I’d ever fit,
Watching movies where my life just wasn’t in the script.
Then one Christmas Eve, I saw it clear as day
Two daddies stringing lights in their own fabulous way.
Daddy one wrapping gifts with too much tape,
Daddy two in the kitchen, frosting every shape.
And when they pulled me in, between their arms so tight,
I knew this was my forever, underneath the fairy lights.
So here’s to all the families that don’t match the old cliché,
Two moms, two dads, one parent, we all find our way.
If your heart has ever wondered where your place might be,
There’s a seat at this table and it’s marked “you and me.”
Now I’m on the stage in sequins, singing ‘bout my home,
How they cheered when I came out and said, “You’re never alone.”
They’re shining in the front row with their goofy Christmas ties,
Crying just a little with their proud and glittered eyes.
When I hit that final chorus and the crowd begins to sway,
I see every kind of family in the lights on holiday.
And I know that somewhere, someone needed this song too,
To believe that there’s a Christmas where they’ll be loved for being true.
I’ve got my two daddies at Christmas,
They’re the reason I believe.
That the greatest gift you’ll ever get
Is the one that lets you breathe.
No matter what the world may say,
This is how love looks to me.
With my two daddies at Christmas,
I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
Yeah, with my two daddies at Christmas,
Love came wrapped and set me free.
Happy holidays from my little rainbow house to yours
may you find the family that lights up your tree.
When the final notes land, the Denver Coliseum answers with cheers and applause, fans on their feet, hands clapping until it becomes its own kind of rhythm. Amanda places one gloved hand to her chest as if the reaction hits her right in the heart, then steps forward and performs a perfect, theatrical curtsy, the skirt of her gown fanning like a red holiday ribbon.
Then the spotlight winks out.
The camera returns to ringside, and the whole scene looks like somebody took a postcard of a Christmas village and dropped it right into an arena. Fake snow dusts the ramp and pools in little drifts along the barricades. Snowmen stand sentry at the corners of the runway. Christmas trees line the aisle in staggered rows, each one strung with warm lights that blink softly against the cold-blue wash of the overhead rigs. Oversized presents, shiny paper, thick ribbons, comically big bows, sit stacked like obstacles waiting to be weaponized. Beyond the ramp, the stage has been transformed into a cheery “North Pole” set: toy-workshop façades, candy-cane trim, a sleigh prop, and a wide-curtained entry that leads “backstage” into more themed dressing, bright colors and faux wood beams that practically beg to get smashed through.
Justin: Ladies and gentlemen… welcome to CLIMAX CONTROL , WINTER WONDERSLAM!
The crowd surges, and Justin spreads a hand toward the ramp, toward the ring, toward the glittering chaos waiting to happen.
Justin: Our next contest is scheduled for one fall… and it is a NON-TITLE match! And this match will be contested under the special stipulation “WINTER WONDERLAND” FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE!
For a heartbeat, there’s nothing but the crowd’s anticipation. Then, sharp crackle. Red-and-silver static snaps across the massive video screen like a corrupted signal trying to claw its way into focus.
“I’ll bite my tongue ‘til it bleeds…”
Addie Nicole’s voice cuts through the darkness , raw, haunting, and close enough to feel like it’s inside your ribs. A single red spotlight slashes across the stage, carving out the fog rolling in across the ramp. The haze crawls low, hugging the fake snow like something alive.
Bella Madison steps into the light. Hood up. Head down. Arms at her sides. Her silhouette is sharp , black matte leather gear with crimson trim and silver-glitched detailing that catches the red spotlight in broken flashes. No grand gestures. No play to the cheap seats. Just presence, heavy and exact, like the second before a fight actually becomes real.
On the screen behind her, her name glitches to life in violent little bursts of light:
BITE. YOUR. TONGUE.
Justin: Introducing first! Hailing from Manhattan, New York, representing WOLFSLAIR, weighing in at one hundred twenty-five pounds! This is BELLA MADISON!
“Metallic tranquility… the pain gets buried beneath…”
Bella begins the walk down the ramp, and it’s not a strut, not a dance, not a parade. It’s controlled. Purposeful. Every step deliberate like she’s counting distance to impact. The red light strobes in pulses that feel less like club lighting and more like warning shots.
She stops halfway down. Her head tilts up, just slightly, like she’s finally letting herself look at where she’s going. The beat drops.
“I could destroy you with one line…”
Bella continues. Past the snowmen. Past the glittering trees. Past the presents stacked like future bruises. At ringside, she circles the ring once, staring up at it like a battlefield she’s studied too long to fear. She slides under the bottom rope and stays on one knee for a second, grounded, still, gathering the storm.
“Just be human, fuck your pride… you’re addicted to the fight…”
Then she stands. She reaches up and pulls back the hood. Her hair falls loose around her face. Her eyes lock dead on the hard cam, no warmth, no wink, no reassurance. Just that steady, unblinking truth that says she’s not here to be liked.
“I’ll bite my tongue ‘til it bleeds…”
Bella mouths the words with conviction, vow, not lyric, then steps to the center of the ring and raises three fingers. No smile. No pose. No compromise.
Just Bella. Exactly as she is now.
Simone: That three-finger salute, every time she does it, it feels like she’s marking a promise. A line she won’t cross back over.
Lunam: And here’s the thing, right, tonight she’s got Alicia Lukas in front of her, a woman she respects, a woman she’s called a friend… and Bella still walks like she’s marchin’ into war.
Simone: Because what’s ahead doesn’t stop tonight. Inception VIII is coming, and Bella Madison has been circling something bigger than a single match. You can feel it.
Lunam: Aye, the road ahead is steep and icy, and Bella’s the type to keep walkin’ even if her boots are full o’ blood. That’s not drama, that’s who she is.
Bella lowers her hand, pacing once, shoulders rolling loose. The music fades into the arena’s breathless noise.
Justin: And her opponent…!
“I still wear this crown” by Kittie hits, and the reaction turns sharp, half boos, half cheers, all volume.
Alicia Lukas steps out onto the stage with a black hoodie covering her upper half, hood pulled up over long blond hair. She pauses at the top of the ramp, letting the moment sit. Then she reaches up, flips the hood back, and looks down at the ring like she’s measuring Bella from a distance.
Alicia’s mouth curls into a smirk. She points finger guns toward the ring, playful, cocky, and just disrespectful enough to get under skin.
Justin: Hailing from Atlanta, Georgia, weighing in at one hundred fifty pounds! She is the BOMBSHELL ROULETTE CHAMPION… ALICIA LUKAS!
Alicia makes her way down the ramp with purposeful pace, eyes flicking to the crowd, then back to Bella like a lock snapping shut. She passes the snowmen like they’re not even there. Passes the Christmas trees like they’re just scenery in her story. She hits ringside, hooks a turn, and runs up the steps. Then she climbs the ropes on the outside with the ease of someone who’s done it a thousand times, balancing on the edge, hoodie still on, posture open to the crowd.
She flips the hood back again for emphasis, throws her arms out wide, and smiles, bright, confident, almost charming. Then she leaps from the outside into the ring in one clean motion, landing light, absorbing the impact through her legs like she owns gravity.
Alicia peels off the hoodie and tosses it aside, revealing her gear beneath, ready, sharp, no frills.
Simone: Alicia Lukas has two fights looming over this rivalry. First, Bella Madison tonight under a Falls Count Anywhere stipulation, and then Alexandra Calaway at Inception VIII.
Lunam: Aye, and if she’s lookin’ past Bella to Calaway, she’ll end up starin’ at the lights beside a Christmas tree. Bella’s not the kind to be anyone’s warm-up act.
Simone: But Alicia’s not the kind to back down either. Friends or not, this is going to be full force.
Lunam: Full force and then some. Winter Wonderland rules means they can take this whole place apart, and the only thing colder than the set dressin’ is the reality: one mistake out there, and it’s done.
In the ring, Bella and Alicia lock eyes across the canvas, the holiday village glittering around them like a trap with pretty lights. The referee calls for the bell!
DING DING DING!
The bell snaps the air like a cracked icicle, and Bella Madison is already in motion, light on the balls of her feet, hands up, eyes bright. Alicia Lukas stalks forward with that strong-style patience, shoulders loose, chin tucked, a half-smirk that says I’m going to enjoy this.
Lunam: Ah here now, straight away, no circlin’, no flirtin’ with the moment. Bella’s feet are dancin’, Simone. That’s the kind of lightness that gets ye hurt… or gets ye paid.
Simone: And Alicia Lukas is built to make you pay interest. Winter Wonderland Falls Count Anywhere means there’s nowhere to run, only places to get pinned.
They meet center-ring like two magnets snapping together, collar-and-elbow, Bella instantly swiveling her hips, transitioning into a side headlock. Alicia plants her feet, pushes her off, and Bella rebounds, ducking a rolling forearm attempt that cuts through the space like a hammer. Bella slides behind, hooks the arm, hammerlock, then flips it into an arm wringer, turning Alicia’s wrist like she’s tuning a radio for pain. Alicia grimaces, but she doesn’t panic. She steps forward, rolls through, and fires a stiff shoot kick that thuds Bella’s thigh. Bella’s leg buckles for a heartbeat, and Alicia uses it, snapmare, quick, clean, then a penalty kick to the back that pops Bella’s spine like a bowstring.
Lunam: Jaysus, that’s the sound of Christmas cracklin’ right there! Alicia’s not here to sing carols, she’s here to kick the ribs outta ye.
Simone: Strong style doesn’t do gentle. Not even against a friend.
Bella inhales through her teeth and rolls forward, springing up fast enough to make the crowd gasp, then she darts in with an armdrag, and another, slinging Alicia across the mat like she’s trying to fold a holiday napkin into a swan. Alicia comes up angry, charging forward for a dropkick. Bella’s boots pop Alicia square in the chest, knocking her backward into the corner. Bella sprints, hands on the top rope, and pops up into a quick headscissors takedown that whips Alicia out of the corner and onto her back.
Bella floats over, tight as a latch, and grabs the legs, surfboard attempt, but Alicia twists, rolls, and mule-kicks to break the grip. She rises and snaps a low dropkick into Bella’s knee, right on the joint, right where balance lives.
Simone: That’s surgical cruelty. Take the knee, you take the moonsault. You take the shining wizard. You take the entire playbook away.
Bella hops, shaking the leg out, but Alicia is already throwing Muay Thai knees in the clinch, one to the midsection, another to the ribs. Bella’s face tightens; she answers with a quick chain, headlock, switch, armbar, trying to slow the tide with technique. Alicia suddenly jerks Bella in, tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! Bella’s body snaps over Alicia’s knee, and she hits the mat clutching her lower back.
Lunam: Oh would ye look at that, turned her like a parcel and stamped “FRAGILE” right across her spine!
Alicia doesn’t cover yet; she sits Bella up with a hard tug and slaps in stiff shoot kicks to the chest, one, two, three, each one echoing. Bella grits her teeth, then swings her legs up and snaps a headscissors takedown out of nowhere, sending Alicia tumbling through. Bella kips up, pure spring steel, and nails a Yakuza kick to Alicia’s shoulder as she rises. Alicia staggers, turns, and Bella snatches her, snap DDT, planting her like a post in frozen ground.
Bella hooks the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Simone: Bella’s pacing is incredible, strike, chain, aerial, back to chain. She’s trying to keep Alicia guessing.
Lunam: Aye, but Alicia’s the kind of woman who guesses with her fists, Simone.
Bella pulls Alicia up, trying to turn her into a bow and arrow submission, but Alicia drops her weight, stomps Bella’s foot, and throws a rolling forearm that catches Bella on the cheekbone. Bella stumbles, and Alicia follows with a spinning heel kick to the midsection that folds Bella in half. Alicia runs the ropes, Bella ducks, Alicia rebounds, leaps, Bella catches her with a lightning-fast hurricanrana, spiking Alicia down. Bella scrambles, seizing the moment, and charges for a shining wizard, knee up toward the face, Alicia catches her mid-run and snaps her into a German suplex. Bella’s shoulders and upper back slam the mat. Alicia keeps the waist locked and rolls again, second German. Bella bounces, dazed, and Alicia snarls, rolling through! Third German suplex, this one higher, nastier, the kind that makes the air leave the lungs in a single terrified exhale.
Lunam: Mother o’ mercy, three Germans in a row! That’s not a winter wonderland, that’s a winter wreckin’ yard!
Alicia finally covers, grinding her forearm across Bella’s face.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Bella’s shoulder shoots up with stubborn defiance, and Alicia’s expression changes, respect flickering behind the heel’s bite. She drags Bella upright, muttering something only Bella can hear, and Bella answers with a grim, pained nod. Friends, yes, no mercy, absolutely. Alicia whips Bella to the corner and rushes in, Bella slips aside and shoves Alicia chest-first into the turnbuckles. Bella darts behind, snapmare, then a running dropkick to the back of Alicia’s head that sends her forward onto the second rope.
Bella sees it. She climbs, fast, perches, then launches. Moonsault! But Alicia rolls away and Bella hits the mat, landing on her feet but jolting the knee on impact. Alicia immediately punishes it, low dropkick to the knee again. Bella collapses to one leg, hands on the mat.
Simone: That knee is a target the size of a Christmas tree.
Lunam: And Alicia’s got the axe, love.
Alicia hauls Bella up and muscles her, Double A style spinebuster! Bella hits with a thud that rattles the ring boards. Alicia hooks both legs deep.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Alicia sits back on her heels, breathing hard, then points toward the ramp, the Winter Wonderland zone dressed like a snowy village. Fake snow drifts along the edges of the ramp. Snowmen grin with coal eyes. Christmas trees shimmer with lights. Presents, some oversized, are stacked like tempting hazards. Alicia grabs Bella by the hair, ref warning her, but Alicia releases just to shove Bella through the ropes. Bella catches herself on the apron, and Alicia follows, stepping out like she owns the edge of the world.
Bella swings a forearm; Alicia answers with a stiff shoot kick that nearly knocks Bella off the apron. Bella clings, then snaps an armdrag off the apron to the floor, sending Alicia skidding into fake snow.
Lunam: Ooooh, she’s after plantin’ her in the powder! That’s snow, sure, but it stings like gravel.
Bella drops down carefully, knee protesting, and limps toward Alicia. Alicia scrambles up and launches a rolling forearm that Bella ducks, Bella counters with a sharp DDT on the floor, dropping Alicia face-first beside a snowman. Bella covers right there, in the Winter Wonderland zone.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Simone: Remember, falls count anywhere out here. Bella’s smart, she’s not dragging her back to the ring when she doesn’t have to.
Bella pulls Alicia by the wrist, trying to whip her into the barricade, but Alicia reverses and yanks Bella toward the ramp. Bella’s knee catches on the edge of a wrapped “present” prop, and she stumbles, Alicia pounces, driving a Muay Thai knee into Bella’s ribs. Alicia then rolls back inside of thew ring and sprints, suicide dive! She threads between ropes and crashes into Bella, sending both of them tumbling into the fake snow near the base of the ramp. Snow sprays like confetti.
Lunam: That’ll wake ye up quicker than a cold bucket, I’ll tell ye that much!
Alicia rises first, breath steaming in the arena lights like she’s a dragon that learned to hate Christmas. She drags Bella up the ramp toward the “village” display, past twinkling lampposts and oversized candy canes. Alicia shoves Bella into a Christmas tree. Ornaments clatter, lights shake, and fake snow flutters down. Bella fires back, forearm, forearm, forearm, technical striker’s rhythm, trying to reassert control. Alicia answers with a spinning heel kick to the midsection again, then snaps Bella into a snap suplex right on the ramp.
Alicia hooks the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Simone: That’s the danger of this stipulation. Harder surfaces, uglier landings, and the pin can come at any time.
Alicia points at the stage, where the set transforms into a “North Pole” scene: toy workshop doors, a big sleigh, stacks of oversized gift boxes, and a curtain leading “backstage.” She hauls Bella up and starts marching her that way. Bella, woozy but not done, slips her hand into Alicia’s grip and twists, arm wringer, then drops into a sudden STF right on the ramp, wrenching Alicia’s neck back while pressing a forearm into the spine.
Lunam: Ohhhh that’s nasty! Bella’s after stretchin’ her like taffy, Simone! That’s not festive, that’s fierce!
Alicia claws forward, fingers scraping at fake snow, then drags herself toward a present prop, she grabs a ribbon and yanks, using it to pull herself free enough to roll Bella off. Bella tumbles, clutching her knee, and Alicia stands, then blasts Bella with a rolling forearm that knocks Bella backward into a snowman. The snowman’s head topples off, and the crowd roars.
Simone: That snowman just lost his mind, and Bella might be next if Alicia keeps this up.
Alicia drags Bella toward the stage steps. Bella tries to fight, armdrag attempt, Alicia blocks and answers with a tiger suplex on the thinly padded floor near the stage. Bella lands hard, and Alicia immediately climbs onto the stage platform itself, grabbing Bella’s wrists like she’s hauling a sack of coal. She yanks Bella up onto the stage, into the “North Pole” set. The set is absurdly cheerful, which makes the violence pop even harder. Bella swings, catching Alicia with a sharp dropkick that sends her back into a stack of oversized gift boxes. Boxes explode open, fake tissue paper and foam “toys” scatter.
Lunam: The workshop’s closed, lads! Bella’s after redecoratin’ with pure spite!
Bella leaps onto the sleigh prop, then launches off it with a flying crossbody, but Alicia catches her midair and slams her down with a spine-jarring tilt-a-whirl backbreaker across the edge of the sleigh. Bella rolls, screaming quietly through clenched teeth, and Alicia sees the opening. She runs toward the edge of the stage, Slingshot spear from the outside, except she’s on the stage now: she drops off the stage lip, springs herself off the structure, and drives the spear into Bella, taking them both down into the pile of busted gift boxes near the ramp-staging boundary.
Simone: Alicia Lukas is a wrecking ball with creativity.
Alicia hooks Bella among the scattered foam toys and wrapping paper.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Bella’s shoulder pops up, and Alicia’s face tightens, half rage, half admiration. She pulls Bella upright and throws stiff shoot kicks again, cracking Bella’s chest. Bella wobbles, then answers with a sudden chain sequence, armbar attempt, Alicia yanks free, headlock, Alicia shoves off, Bella spins and hits an armdrag that sends Alicia into the stage curtain. Alicia disappears through it and stumbles into the backstage “North Pole” hallway set, still visible to the crowd via the open curtain and cameras. Bella limps after her, refusing to let the match drift away. Alicia tries to ambush with a springboard DDT off a low production platform, she plants her hands and flips, Bella catches her, mid-rotation, and drives her down with a DDT of her own, spiking Alicia onto the padded-but-not-soft backstage flooring.
Lunam: Would ye look at that? Alicia went for the fancy, and Bella said, “No thanks, I’ll have ye for breakfast!”
Bella covers backstage, right in the “North Pole” zone.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Simone: That was close. That was very close.
Bella hauls Alicia up and tries to set her for something bigger, maybe the snapmare driver, Alicia senses it and throws elbows back, then whips Bella into a prop wall painted like a toy factory. Bella hits and rebounds, grabbing the wall to steady herself, knee shaking. Alicia charges, Bella sidesteps, Alicia crashes shoulder-first into the prop and stumbles back. Bella strikes: Yakuza kick to the jaw. Alicia staggers. Bella whips her into the curtain opening and they spill back out onto the stage area. Bella climbs onto a stack of remaining gift boxes, balancing like a gymnast, then launches with a moonsault, this time she lands clean across Alicia’s torso on the stage floor.
Bella hooks the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Lunam: She got all of that! Alicia’s still kickin’ though, stubborn as a winter mule!
Bella is breathing hard, sweat glinting under the lights, fake snow stuck to her shoulder and hair. She grabs Alicia’s wrist and pulls her toward the ramp again, aiming for open space. Alicia fights, throws a rolling forearm, Bella ducks, then Bella snaps a headscissors takedown on the ramp, sending Alicia sliding down into the snowy village scene. Alicia pops up furious and immediately targets the knee again with a low dropkick. Bella cries out, collapsing into the fake snow. Alicia drags Bella by the ankles toward ringside, pulling her back down the ramp like she’s dragging a sled.
Simone: Alicia’s trying to isolate that knee and grind Bella down to nothing.
They reach ringside. Alicia shoves Bella into the barricade, then lines her up and hits a spinning heel kick to Bella’s midsection that makes Bella fold over the top of the barricade, half in, half out, like she’s been wrapped around it.
Lunam: That’ll take the mince right outta yer pie, wouldn’t it?
Alicia pulls Bella free and throws her toward the ring apron. Bella catches herself, springing up onto the apron despite the knee, and Alicia follows to the floor. Alicia sprints, looking for that springboard DDT off the apron edge, Bella leaps down and yanks Alicia’s legs out, dropping her face-first to the padded floor. Bella immediately rolls Alicia and drills a shining wizard to the side of the head as Alicia tries to rise. Alicia collapses against the ring post, glassy-eyed. Bella sees the opening, she grabs Alicia’s head and pulls her out a few steps, right into the Winter Wonderland zone, where the fake snow is thickest.
Lunam: Ohhh, Bella’s eyes just changed. That’s the look, Simone. That’s the look before she does somethin’ holy or horrible.
Simone: Neuro-Mutilation… the snapmare driver. She’s won so many matches with it, and it’s a tribute that means everything to her.
Bella pulls Alicia close. For a split second, Alicia’s expression softens, like she knows what’s coming and accepts it because she’d do the same. Bella twists, snapmare motion, Alicia’s body flips forward for Neuro-Mutilation! Bella drops and drives Alicia down with the snapmare driver right on the outside floor, in the fake snow beside the ring.
The impact is sharp, final, and the crowd erupts. Bella immediately hooks the leg, pressing her forehead to Alicia’s shin like she’s willing the count into existence.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING DING DING!
The bell rings, clean and loud, cutting through the roar as Bella collapses backward into the snow, chest heaving, eyes squeezed shut in relief and emotion.
Justin: Here is the winner! Bella! Madison!
The crowd cheers as Drew raises the arm of Bella as she celebrates her big win!
Simone: Bella Madison picks up a huge win over one of the most celebrated wrestlers in all of SCW!
Lunam: Kayla Richards bloody well better be watching because Bella has served notice!
A corner of the hallway has been transformed into a festive little setup: tinsel, folding chairs, a small Christmas tree, and a stack of toys. A hand-painted banner reads: “SCW WELCOMES THE DENVER BOYS & GIRLS CLUB” Santa Miles sits in a sturdy-looking, but clearly rented chair. Santa suit still on. His fluffy white beard slightly crooked now. His SCW Internet Championship belt leaned carefully against a nearby crate. The kids line up, laughing and buzzing with excitement.
Miles: (in full Santa voice) Alright, alright, one toy per kid, no pile-drivers, and absolutely no putting anyone on the naughty list tonight.
The kids laugh.
Kid #1: Santa, are you really a wrestler?
Miles: I am. And trust me, this suit is way harder to wrestle in than my normal gear.
More laughter. Miles hands out the last toy and finally settles back into the chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
Miles: So what do we say?
Kids: (in unison) THANK YOU, SANTA!
Miles: You’re welcome. And hey, remember, being kind doesn’t stop after Christmas, alright?
Polite nods, a few overly enthusiastic salutes. Bobbie Dahl strolls into frame, wearing a holiday sweater that definitely wasn’t chosen for subtlety. She pauses, hands on her hips, eyes twinkling as she takes in the scene.
Bobbie: Well would you look at that...Santa Miles.
The kids immediately perk up.
Kid #2: (whispering loudly) She’s not a kid…
Miles glances up and immediately sighs through a smile.
Miles: Bobbie! I didn’t know you’d be here! Merry Christmas.
Bobbie: Merry Christmas to me, apparently. So...Santa...
She steps closer, inspecting the chair. She gestures to her own lap, then to his.
Bobbie: I gotta ask....Can I sit on your lap?
The kids lose it with laughter and well they’re kids, they’re not stupid.
Kids: OOOOOOHHHHHH!
Miles’ eyes widen just a bit. He glances off to the side, where Carter is currently leaning against a production crate, arms crossed, already suspicious.
Miles: Bobbie... I don’t think...
Bobbie: (already moving) Too late.
She sits and for exactly half a second, it works. And then...
CRACK.
The chair collapses completely, dumping both of them onto the floor in a tangle of red fabric, fake beard, and limbs. Belts clatter. Toys bounce.
Kids: HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Kid #3: SANTA BROKE!
Miles groans, then starts laughing as he pushes himself up.
Miles: Okay, okay, everyone relax! Santa’s fine...I think.
Bobbie is already sitting up, completely unbothered, brushing herself off and grinning.
Bobbie: Well…I got what I wanted.
The kids laugh even harder.
Miles: (shaking his head, still laughing) You’re paying for that chair.
Bobbie: It was worth it.
That’s when Carter finally steps forward, pointing at Bobbie, mock-indignant.
HBCarter: HEY! THAT’S MY MAN.
The kids erupt again. Miles looks over his shoulder at Carter, grinning beneath the beard.
Miles: Babe, I swear, just a workplace hazard.
HBCarter: (smirking despite himself) Uh-huh. Next year Santa gets a steel chair.
Bobbie: I’ll be back.
HBCarter & Miles: (simultaneously) NO.
Everyone laughs as the camera lingers on Santa Miles surrounded by laughing kids, Carter shaking his head fondly beside him, and Bobbie Dahl blowing a playful kiss as she exits frame.
The ring is set up with a table in preparation for a contract signing between Harper Mason and Victoria Lyons. As the crowd buzzes in anticipation, the sounds of Hey You by Nova Rockafeller play followed by immediate booze from the crowd as Victoria Lyons makes her way to the ring followed by her fiance Darian, the Bombshell Internet Championship rests proudly on her shoulder
Victoria soaks in the boos on our way down the ramp and once in the ring she snatches the mic from the official and begins speaking.
Victoria: Tonight we find out if Harper Mason really is a hypocrite. She wanted to earn herself a shot at my championship, she said she didn't want a shot until she earned it and yet here we are ready to sign a contract when she hasn't really earned anything.
Victoria pauses.
Victoria: I know I took it back door to get my championship match, I don't deny that. But the ends justify the means and the fact that I stand here as your Bombshell Internet Champion means I made the right decision.
She pauses and smirks amid more booing.
Victoria: I don't even care that Harper got a back door into a championship match. I just hate her hypocrisy about wanting to earn it and then doing nothing when it was handed to her, but she has the chance to make it right.
She pauses again looking around at the crowd.
Victoria: All she has to do is refuse to sign the contract until she's properly earned herself a championship match. That is the most honest and noble thing Harper Mason can do right now. So I wonder Harper, what are you going to do? Are you going to be honest and wait your turn, or will you reveal yourself as a liar and a hypocrite? I think that…
“New Divide” hits the speakers and Harper marches out with Joshua Acquin at her side, Harper already has a mic in her hand and starts to talk as she walks to the ring.
Harper: You really like the sound of your own voice, don’t you Vicky?
Harper gets into the ring as Josh follows her in.
Harper: Let me make one thing clear: I meant when I said that I wanted to earn my shot at the Bombshell Internet Championship, but when the powers that be decided to use my little interruption of your celebration to make this match between us? Well, who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Harper reaches into her jeans pocket and holds up a pen.
Harper: And if you think I’m bowing out of this match because it’s, to quote you directly, the only honest thing I can do? Forget it, because you haven’t been honest about yourself since you won that title,
Harper points to the title with her free hand.
Harper: You’ve done NOTHING to earn that shot either, all you did was attack me from behind but sure, pretend that you have the moral high ground.
Harper signs the contract.
Harper: When we both know that the moral high ground belongs to me!
Victoria: You're not wrong and I never denied that I snuck into your match through the back door. I also never made claims about trying to earn a shot. I don't claim to be kind or truthful I just do what I feel I need to do, for me. If I have to force myself into somebody else's business to get myself ahead, I will. That's why I am the woman of the year, and that's why I am the Bombshell Internet Champion.
Harper: The only reason you’re the Bombshell Internet Champion is because you couldn’t stand the thought of sliding into irrelevancy! Say what you will about my reign but at least my title defence against Alicia mattered! What did you get stuck with? A buried in the sand match against Candy?
Victoria: At least I won!
Harper: Yet you failed to capitalize on it in the next cycle and…………
VICTORIA DROPS HARPER WITH A CLOTHESLINE!
Simone: This was inevitable I’m afraid.
Lunam: I hope Harper’s siblings aren’t watching because this might get ugly!
Victoria then takes Harper’s pen and starts stabbing her in the forehead, drawing blood in the process, Josh goes to intervene but Darian hits him with a low blow and starts stabbing him with a pen as well.
Victoria: Next time Harper? Learn when to back down.
VICTORIA SIGNS HER NAME IN HARPER’S BLOOD!
Victoria: Merry Christmas!
Victoria and Darian leave while medics and Cassie (who is glaring daggers at Victoria) rush down.
The camera finds Justin Decent center-ring again, the garland shimmering along the ropes as he lifts his microphone and lets the crowd settle into that excited hush that always comes right before something fun.
Justin: Ladies and gentlemen, Denver, one final time tonight! Are you ready?
The reaction is immediate. Cheers, whistles, claps, that rolling, festive roar that bounces off the arena walls like it’s part of the music.
Justin: Then please welcome back SCW’s Hostess With the Mostess… MISS AMANDA HUGGINKISS!
The lights shift toward the stage and the entrance ramp glows under soft white snowfall graphics on the LED screen. Amanda steps out into the spotlight in her third outfit of the evening, festive but tasteful, an elegant winter-white velvet dress that falls just above the knee, fitted through the waist with a thin red satin ribbon tied into a neat bow at her side. The neckline is modest, framed by a delicate capelet of faux-fur trim that looks soft rather than gaudy, and tiny silver accents catch the light like scattered frost. Her heels are classic and simple, her jewelry minimal, just a pair of small sparkling earrings, while her hair is styled in glossy, loose waves with a subtle holly pin tucked near one temple.
She pauses at the top of the ramp, smiling like she can feel the warmth of the crowd, then gives a graceful little wave that pulls another swell of applause.
She starts down the ramp with confident, easy steps, soaking in the moment without milking it, her expression bright and genuinely delighted.
Amanda: Snow is falling on the rainbow lights,
Glitter footprints in the frosty night.
I hang my wig up by the door,
Kick off these heels on the tinsel floor.
In the window, candles glow so bright,
Little flags strung up in red and white.
We used to hide who we really are,
Now we shine like a Christmas star.
And every lonely winter I thought this wasn’t meant for me,
Till I found a choir of misfits singing in the same key.
This is our chosen family Christmas,
Where every heart has a home.
We turn our scars into sparkles,
We make our own mistletoe.
From the queens in their gowns to the kids finding ground,
To the ones who still whisper, “Is it safe to be found?”
We light one more candle, hold each other tight and true,
It’s a chosen family Christmas, and there’s always room for you.
There’s a drag king carving up the roast,
A trans girl laughing with our ghost
Of all the years we thought we’d never fit,
Now there’s one more plate where we all sit.
Nonbinary angels on top of the tree,
Singing “Baby, you belong with me.”
Every story at this table’s new,
Every soul a different shade of true.
We’ve been broken, we’ve been brave, we’ve been told to disappear,
But we wrapped our hearts in fairy lights and brought them all right here.
This is our chosen family Christmas,
Where every name can be known.
We hang our hopes like ornaments,
On branches we’ve outgrown.
From the lovers hand in hand to the friend who came alone,
To the one still healing slowly from a house that wasn’t home.
We’ll pour one more cocoa, sing until the night is through,
It’s a chosen family Christmas, and there’s always room for you.
Maybe your childhood Christmas
Didn’t look like all the songs,
Maybe silence wrapped your gifts,
Maybe love was “don’t stay long.”
But here the carols call your name,
There’s a stocking with your heart,
And every time the bells ring out,
They’re saying, “You’re a work of art.”
So come in from the cold tonight,
Let the sequins catch your tears,
We’ll rewrite the storybook
You’ve been carrying for years.
Now I’m lip-syncing to Mariah in a secondhand red gown,
With a beard of silver glitter and my lashes pointing down.
But when I look around this room, I see miracles in view
All the colors of the spectrum singing, “Love has brought us through.”
There’s the boy who changed his name and found the courage just to stay,
There’s the girl who shaved her head and finally feels okay.
There’s the quiet kid who’s smiling for the first time in a while,
Wrapped in neon Christmas lights and their very first real smile.
This is our chosen family Christmas,
A choir of brave and bright.
We turn our pain into poetry,
We turn our fear into light.
For the ones who couldn’t make it,
Know we’re saving you a chair,
In every song, in every laugh,
We’re saying, “You belong right there.”
So let the snow keep softly falling,
On every shade of pride and hue,
It’s a chosen family Christmas,
And there’s always room for you.
A queen by the tree, with her heart on her sleeve,
Whispers, “Merry Christmas, love
Thank you for choosing to believe.”
As the song concludes, Amanda holds her final pose for just a beat longer, letting the last note hang in the air. She then curtsies deeply and elegantly, rising with a radiant smile. She blows kisses to the hard camera, then to the fans on either side of the ramp, turning her head slowly so no section feels ignored. The spotlight softens, dimming as she keeps smiling, one last warm look across the crowd, until the light fades and the scene transitions onward.
We cut to the backstage area where we see the two teams competing in tonight’s Main Event, the World Heavyweight Champion HB Carter and Eddie Lyons on one side and Alexander Raven and Brayden Hilton on the other, all waiting to see what match type they get stuck with.
Simone: Well folks, we’ve reached the final match of the SCW Callender Year and by extension the night as HB Carter teams with Eddie Lyons to take on Alexander Raven and Braden Hilton! All that’s left to do is decide what match type they’ll be competing under!
Lunam: Raven is set to challenge Carter for the World Heavyweight Title at Inception VIII while Brayden and Eddie will face off in a Lyons Den Match on the same night, let’s hope they don’t get anything as wild as that kiss off match.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Ready gentlemen?
The two teams nod and Rocky spins the wheel, it eventually stops on……..
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Silent Night, Violent Night Street Fight! It’s a Christmas themed No DQ, No Count Out, Falls…………..Count……………Anywhere oh shit.
Rocky takes one look at the look on the four men’s faces and sighs.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: WHY DID I HAVE TO WEAR HEELS TONIGHT?!
Rocky bolts as the two teams start brawling, Carter on Raven and Eddie on Brayden, while Jasmine calls for the bell and the main event begins!
Simone: Looks like we’re closing the year with a bang!
Lunam: Honestly considering how often the Falls Count Anywhere stip has started next to the Roulette Wheel it’s a miracle that Rocky hasn’t caught any strays since the Roulette Titles were introduced!
DING! DING! DIG!
Once Jasmine catches up with the four men the action hasn’t let up and Raven’s manager Luna Pasilno, who had been waiting by the entrance, isn’t far behind Jasmine. Eventually Eddie manages to score a European Uppercut on Brayden sending him to the floor, however Brayden manages to land near a tinsel wrapped steel chair and doesn’t need to think twice before he whacks Eddie over the head with it as Eddie goes to pick him up! Brayden goes for a pin!
ONE!
Carter realizes what’s going on.
TWO!
And breaks up the pin by shoving Raven onto his partner!
Simone: That’s one way to break a pinfall!
Lunam: And I guess we know how this match ties into the Christmas theme!
The four men make their way out of the Roulette Wheel area and realize that the backstage area has been sprinkled with fake snow. Carter spots a Candy Cane Kendo Stick, shrugs and grabs it before swinging the weapon at Raven! However the Aussie ducks (and the cane BARELY misses Luna’s head) and Raven responds before hitting Carter with a Belly to Belly Suplex, causing Carter to drop the kendo stick in the process. The stick lands near Luna’s feet and she tosses it at Raven who proceeds to work over Carter! Eddie sees this happening and tries to reach Carter but Brayden blocks him.
Simone: Only on a Christmas Special would we see the World Heavyweight Champion being hit with a candy cane while being surrounded by fake snow!
Lunam: I’m just wondering how no one saw that getting set up!
Raven eventually just tosses it aside and goes for a pin on the champ!
ONE!
TWO!
And Carter kicks out! But elsewhere Eddie has caught Brayden with a Small Package!
ONE!
TWO!
And Brayden kicks out. Confident that Carter is down for the moment, Raven joins Brayden in battling Eddie and the two men hit Eddie with a Double Brainbuster before they retreat to regroup.
Simone: Seems Raven and Brayden want some time away to strategize.
Lunam: They can’t escape Eddie and the champ for long!
Raven and Brayden end up underneath a balcony (also covered in fake snow) and they start to strategize in hushed tones while Luna keeps her distance, but then a loud whistle echoes from the balcony and both men look up.
Eddie: LOOK OUT BELLOW!
EDDIE AND CARTER HIT BRAYDEN AND RAVEN WITH SUICIDE DIVES OFF THE BALCONY! Jasmine is quickly on the scene and checks on all four men but doesn’t get a chance to breathe before Carter goes for a pin!
ONE!
TWO!
And Raven kicks out!
Simone: I don’t even know how to describe that!
Lunam: Christmas madness Belinda, that’s how!
Crowd: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
Jasmine barely gets a chance to breathe however as Eddie is going for his own pin on Brayden!
ONE!
TWO!
And Brayden gets the shoulder up! All four men slowly get to their feet, feeling the effects of the match and Carter stumbles backwards into a large gift wrapped box with a question mark on the side. Seeing it, Carter opens the box and finds a replica Roulette Title Belt, shrugs and goes to attack Raven with it. Raven ducks the shot and so does Eddie (who was right behind Raven) and Brayden gets clocked instead.
Simone: I guess it wouldn’t be Christmas without gifts!
Lunam: As long as no one gets clothes!
Carter doesn’t even get a chance to go for a pin because Raven, after dropping Eddie with a DDT, grabs Carter and goes to set him up for the Raven’s Spire Vertebreaker but Carter manages to block it and reverse the move into a Poisonrana. However Brayden is going for a pin on Eddie while that is going on.
ONE!
TWO!
And Carter breaks it up with the replica belt. Carter waits for Brayden to get back to his feet, measuring him up for another shot with the replica belt, but Raven whacks him across the back with a Candy Cane Kendo Stick that happened to be lying nearby. Raven follows that up with a White Russian Leg Sweep using the Candy Cane Kendo Stick before going for a pin!
ONE!
TWO!
And Carter kicks out!
Simone: At this point the question is, what will it take to end this match?!
Lunam: They’re throwing everything but the kitchen sink at each other.
Luna tosses another mystery gift to Raven and he rips it open……….to find a toy kitchen sink.
Lunam: Never mind, spoke too soon!
Simone: WHO THE HELL MADE A TOY KITCHEN SINK?!
Even Eddie, as he’s getting back to his feet, has to stop and look at the toy sink and Brayden looks perplexed by the existence of such an item but that quickly gets tossed aside, alongside the kitchen sink, as Raven yeets the kitchen sink at Eddie’s face. Eddie ducks it and spears Raven through a nearby wall but before Brayden can make a move Carter charges and snaps off a Hurricanrana which he holds on to for the pin!
ONE!
TWO!
And Brayden kicks out! The two men start brawling down the hallway and soon afterwards Eddie and Raven are following.
Simone: I‘m not sure if I should say anything after the kitchen sink reveal.
Lunam: What next? A life size doll of Christian Underwood?!
Raven manages to break free and get ahead of Brayden and Carter before finding brass knuckles with bells wrapped in holly attached. He shrugs before putting them on and when Eddie approaches… well…………..
Lunam: Raven just decked Eddie’s balls with bells of holly!
Simone: I can’t believe that was just said on the last weekend before Christmas!
Eddie drops like a freshly cut Christmas tree and Raven quickly goes for a pin!
ONE!
TWO!
And Carter inadvertently breaks it up when Brayden stumbles over the pin attempt while brawling with Carter! Carter manages to stop himself from meeting the same fate but he leaps on Raven’s back before hitting a Shooting Star Press off it for a pin!
ONE!
TWO!
And Brayden kicks out! Before Carter can do anything else Raven grabs him by the head and drags him further down the hallway and into an open area with Luna not far behind while Brayden and Eddie recover.
Simone: Things seem to be taking a turn in this match!
Lunam: But with Luna there Carter’s going to need eyes in the back of his head!
Raven goes to punch Carter with the knuckles but Carter catches his arm and restrains it before forcibly prying the knuckles from Raven’s hand but before he can use them… Luna comes up from behind with a Candy Cane Kendo Stick shot!
Simone: Well, I guess Luna’s getting a fine for Christmas!
Lunam: This isn’t good for Carter!
Luna goes to swing again but this time the cane gets caught, not by Carter but rather by another feminine hand. Luna slowly turns around and sees her old foe.
Simone: IT’S VICTORIA!
Lunam: Don’t forget, Victoria ended Luna’s in ring career last year at High Stakes!
Luna gets subsequently pulled into Victoria’s grasp before she hits her with the Lyons Roar DDT! Meanwhile Carter has started ascending to a higher platform and Eddie and Brayden have just caught up with the action. Eddie is surprised to see his cousin but doesn’t get much of a chance to dwell on it as Raven goes to attack Eddie but gets the wind knocked out of him by a kick. Raven stumbles away AND CARTER LEAPS, HITTING THE FRUIT FLY (Eclipse) ON RAVEN! Seeing a chance for the match to end Eddie covers Alexander as Carter dives into Brayden, tackling him to the floor!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!!!!!!!!!!
DING! DING! DING!
Justin: HERE ARE YOUR WINNERS, EDDIE LYONS AND THE WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION HB CARTER!
Simone: What a way to end a chaotic year!
Lunam: And Eddie made up for the tainted loss he suffered at the hands of Alexander Raven this past week!
Carter and the Lyons celebrate while Raven, Luna and Brayden lick their wounds. The official raises the arms of Carter and Eddie high in the air to the cheers of the capacity crowd in Denver! Carter and Eddie then turn and shake hands with one another in a gesture of sportsmanship and respect!
Simone: You can feel it! Carter and Eddie are leaving 2025 with their hands raised and their eyes on Las Vegas!
Lunam: Respect, too. Eddie Lyons and HB Carter didn’t just survive the chaos, they controlled it.
Raven sits up in the corner, clutching at his neck and jaw, glaring daggers through sweat-slick hair. Luna drags herself to the ropes, blinking hard, while Brayden crawls toward the apron, shaking his head like he’s trying to knock the lights back on.
Carter leans toward Eddie and says something off-mic. Eddie’s eyes going wide as if remembering the reason this night has a little extra shine. Carter turns and waves toward the aisle, then hops down to the floor with Eddie following. The two stride along ringside, reaching the barricade where a cluster of kids are already bouncing on their toes, clutching signs and little plush toys and holiday posters. Carter crouches to their level, talking to them and gesturing toward the ring like it’s the coolest invitation in the world.
Eddie points to a wide-open space by the steps, and with help from security and ringside staff, the kids start filing through, carefully, excitedly, like tiny superstars getting called up to the big show. Carter stays right there, offering hands, steadying them one by one as they climb. Eddie laughs as a kid nearly sprints and he gently slows them with a guiding palm, smiling the whole time.
Simone: Oh, I LOVE this!
Lunam: This is what Winter Wonderslam is about! Toys 4 Tots! The holidays! Giving the kids a moment they’ll never forget!
Back in the ring, Carter stands tall, then lowers the ropes for the last few kids coming in, making sure nobody trips. Eddie waves them toward the center, and suddenly the ring feels transformed in a moment of celebration. The crowd melts into one big roar, cameras flashing as the kids look out at the sea of people like they’ve been handed the entire universe for a night.
Carter unclips his championship belt and lifts it high, then lowers it carefully so the kids can see it up close. A few tiny hands reach out, hesitant at first, and Carter nods like “go ahead,” letting them touch the gold. Eddie leans down and points at the plates, explaining something animatedly, and the kids nod like they’re being taught the secrets of wrestling history.
Simone: Look at their faces! That’s pure magic right there.
Lunam: Every chair in this building is on its feet. That’s not for a move, not for a pin—this is for the heart of SCW.
Eddie climbs a corner turnbuckle and throws one arm up, then points down at the kids like they’re the stars of the show. Carter stands in the middle with them, one arm around a kid on either side, raising the other fist to the sky as the crowd chants and claps in time. Raven glares from outside, Luna and Brayden regrouping with him, but even they can’t disrupt the warmth that’s taken over the arena.
Simone: From all of us here, thank you for being part of this night, part of this drive, part of this community!
Lunam: Winter Wonderslam, our final event of 2025 and what a way to close the year! Chaos, triumph and a moment like this for the kids!
Simone: And don’t forget! Inception VIII is right around the corner!
Lunam: January 11th… Las Vegas, Nevada! The lights are brighter, the stakes are higher, and the whole world will be watching SCW kick the door into 2026.
Simone: On behalf of everyone at SCW, thank you for joining us for Winter Wonderslam!
Lunam: Happy Holidays, everyone!
The camera sweeps across the ring one last time with kids waving, laughing, holding their hands up like champions. Eddie Lyons claps along with them, pointing out to the crowd. Carter stands behind them, title over one shoulder again, nodding with a proud, grounded smile, then raises his free hand in a final salute as confetti begins to drift down like soft winter snow.
One last shot: Carter and Eddie framed by the kids at center ring, the arena glowing with holiday light, the roar of the crowd carrying them into the end of the year.
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! HAPPY HOLIDAYS!