The camera opens high above Everett, Washington, with the sun sinking low and warm behind the Angel of the Winds Arena. Cars stream past, tail lights streaking, and the arena lights shine brighter as evening takes over!
The shot dives lower, sweeping toward the front plaza where lines of fans wrap around the entrances, bundled in hoodies and jerseys, some bouncing on their toes to stay warm, most already buzzing like the show started an hour ago. They spot the camera and erupt, cheering, chanting, waving both arms like they are trying to pull the lens into the party! Handmade signs pop up over heads, phones go up for selfies, and a few fans lean over the barricades to slap the rail and scream straight into the night!
The scene cuts inside and the noise doubles instantly, the Angel of the Winds Arena packed wall to wall, lights dimmed to a dramatic glow. The stage explodes with interior fireworks, bright white sparks fanning upward in sharp fountains, timed with a heavy bass hit that shakes the camera. Smoke rolls along the ramp, lights sweep the crowd in quick pulses, and the massive screen blasts the SCW branding across the arena as the pyros crackle and fade!
A panning shot carries across the capacity crowd, people on their feet, waving at the hard cam, pointing, jumping, clapping, chanting for SCW like it is a holiday they have been waiting all year for. Signs are everywhere, cardboard and neon poster board, glitter paint and thick marker!
"LOGAN HUNTER, YOUR HAIR CALLED, IT WANTS A REFUND!"
"ALEXANDRA CALAWAY, NEW QUEEN OF SCW, BLAZE OF GLORY XV!"
"ZAYVION LYONS, THE NEW YOUNG LYON!"
"CASSIE WOLFE, NEXT GEN KAREN, MANAGER OF MAYHEM!"
"BRANDON F N HENDRIX, BREAK BONES, CASH CHECKS!"
"METAL MANIACS, TURN IT UP, SMASH IT DOWN!"
The camera swings toward ringside, sliding past the barricade and settling on the six sided ring. Standing inside the ring is ring announcer Justin Decent, poised and confident, microphone in hand, soaking in the roar!
Justin is dressed sexy but tasteful, a fitted black sleeveless top with a deep cut at the sides that shows toned ribs and a hint of oblique, paired with sleek black trousers that sit high and sharp at the waist. A thin silver chain rests against his collarbone, his hair perfectly styled, and his boots shine under the ring lights like they were polished just for this moment!
Justin: Everett Washington, welcome to SCW Climax Control!
The crowd surges louder, a wave of screams rolling from floor to rafters!
Justin: Tonight is not just any night, this is the 450th episode of Climax Control!
Justin turns slowly, giving each side of the arena a look, letting them shout themselves hoarse!
Justin: And more importantly, this is the Going Home show before Blaze of Glory XV!
A fresh burst of cheers erupts, fans pounding the barricades and raising signs higher!
Justin: So it is time to begin the 450th episode, the Going Home show, the only way SCW can do it, in style!
He throws his free hand out toward the stage as the lights sharpen and the camera snaps to the ramp!
Justin: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome SCW's Hostess With the Mostess, Miss Amanda Hugginkiss!
The entrance music hits and the arena reacts instantly, a roar of applause and delighted screaming as Amanda steps out onto the stage, staying right at the top of the ramp like a superstar claiming her spotlight!
Amanda is dressed outrageously and unapologetically, a lime green leopard print ensemble that shines under the lights, part jacket, part mini dress, all chaos. The fabric is glossy and loud, with black spots that look hand painted, and the sleeves are oversized with dramatic cuffs that bounce when she moves. She has neon green accessories, a chunky bracelet stack, a glittering belt, and heels that look like they should come with a warning label. Her makeup is bold, her smile bigger, and her hair is styled for maximum impact!
Amanda raises both arms, slowly turns in place, and drinks in the adoration like it is a five course meal, blowing kisses, pointing into sections, mouthing thank you, then placing a hand to her chest as if the crowd might actually knock her over with love!
Amanda: Everett, hello my beautiful people!
The cheers swell again!
Amanda: Can you believe it, 450 episodes of Climax Control, 450 nights of chaos, drama, glory, and some of the worst decision making you have ever seen in your lives!
The crowd laughs and cheers, clapping along!
Amanda: And tonight, oh tonight, we are Going Home before Blaze of Glory XV!
Amanda leans forward, listening, soaking in the chants, nodding like she approves of every decibel!
Amanda: I love this energy, I love this arena, I love all of you, and I love that you showed up ready to lose your minds!
She paces two steps along the stage, then stops as someone near ringside catches her attention, a fan waving like they are trying to flag down a helicopter. Amanda squints dramatically, hand up to her brow, then points like she has locked onto prey!
Amanda: Oh no, not you, yes you, front row, you are waving at me like you just found out the merch table takes coupons!
The crowd bursts into laughter!
Amanda: Honey, with that haircut, the only thing you should be waving is an apology to your mirror!
More laughter, louder now, and the fan plays along, throwing their hands up as the section around them howls!
Amanda smiles sweetly and blows them a kiss anyway, then turns back to the camera with a sudden seriousness that lasts exactly one second!
Amanda: Alright, alright, alright, this is a special episode, this is history, this is the Going Home show, and we are going to begin it properly!
She lifts the microphone closer, eyes wide, voice bright with mischief!
Amanda: With a song!
The lights shift, the stage glows, and the first notes of music begin to play!
Amanda: Monday morning, break room, coffee, here we go again!
Karen from accounting smiles like we are bestest friends!
She says, We need diversity, and you are it, congrats to you!
Now I am the rainbow emergency, on call for issues two through blue!
They pull me in a meeting room, like, Sit right here, be brave!
Explain drag brunch to Dennis, and why RuPaul will not be saved!
Then HR slides a clipboard, like, You love parades, correct!
So plan our Pride celebration, and do it with respect!
I am just trying to hit my KPIs and drink my little tea!
But somehow I am also Wikipedia, with lashes and a degree!
I am the token gay at work, I come with sparkle and a perk!
They say, Fix the vibes, then sign this form, and make the icebreakers less beige and warm!
I am the token gay at work, they treat my life like extra credit coursework!
Smile, educate, then do the plan, and do not forget the Instagram!
They ask me about the culture, like it is a quarterly review!
So tell us what the gays are into, and what is new with you!
I say, Ma am, we like direct deposit and a day off now and then!
But she nods like I said Broadway, and writes it down with a pen!
Then Chad from Sales leans over, like, Hey, real quick, no shade!
What do you think about Cher, like it is feedback that he made!
He says, We value your perspective, you are our expert on the arts!
I say, Chad, my job is spreadsheets, not explaining diva charts!
I am not your pop culture hotline, I am not your pride mascot!
If you want a rainbow presentation, you can pay me, thanks a lot!
I am the token gay at work, I come with sparkle and a perk!
They say, Fix the vibes, then sign this form, and make the icebreakers less beige and warm!
I am the token gay at work, they treat my life like extra credit coursework!
Smile, educate, then do the plan, and do not forget the Instagram!
They ask, Is this offensive, and I breathe in, count to ten!
Then I say, Please do not ask me, ask a book, ask your friend!
They say, We love your honesty, you are so brave, you are so free!
Then they schedule me another meeting called, Being You, With Me!
They want a Pride committee, and guess who is the chair!
I am the CEO of Glitter, and the intern of Despair!
They say, Add more inclusion, and I say, Add more pay!
Because I cannot live on compliments, or on rainbow themed buffet!
I am the token gay at work, promoted to emotional clerk!
They say, Translate slang, then pose for pics, then fix our logo, then bless our mix!
I am the token gay at work, my job description does a twerk!
But listen close, I am not your prop, I am the reason numbers pop!
So ask me what I think of Cher, I will answer fair and true!
She is iconic, you are panicking, now please approve my PTO!
Amanda hits the final note and throws her arms wide, owning the stage like it belongs to her, the arena erupts in cheers and thunderous applause! She presses a hand to her chest, feigning total overwhelm, then drags the moment out with delicious dramatic flair, blowing kisses in every direction, mouthing thank you! She gives one last grand wave, spins, and slips backstage behind the curtains as the lights shift and the music fades!
The camera cuts to ringside, where the broadcast table is set and gleaming under the arena lights, monitors flicker, headsets are snug, and the crowd noise pours in like a living thing. Belinda Simone sits poised and polished, wearing tasteful business casual, a fitted blazer in a deep neutral tone, a crisp blouse with a modest neckline, and sleek tailored slacks. Her hair is styled neatly, her makeup is camera ready without being over the top, and she has a subtle shine in her earrings and a confident smile that says she is ready for chaos but will report it professionally!
Beside her, Erik Lunam looks sharp in a tasteful way that still screams DIY goth, a black jacket with custom stitched patches on the shoulders, a matte black tee underneath, and dark jeans with clean lines. A chain hangs from his belt loop, his boots look broken in but cared for, and his accessories are deliberate, a couple of rings, a thin leather wrist strap, and dark nail polish that catches the light when he gestures. The whole vibe is polished punk, like he could call the main event and then immediately go solder something in a garage!
Simone: Welcome back everyone, SCW is live, and this is the debut of Climax Control right here in Everett Washington!
Lunam: Ah Jaysus, can ya feel it, Everett is after lightin up the whole place, this crowd is wild, and we are only gettin started!
Simone: It is a historic night, the 450th episode of Climax Control, and the energy in the Angel of the Winds Arena is absolutely electric!
Lunam: Four hundred and fifty, would ya look at that, that is a whole lot of mayhem, a whole lot of legends, and tonight we are addin a brand new chapter, right here in Washington!
Simone: And it gets even bigger, because this is the Going Home episode before Blaze of Glory XV!
Lunam: The last stop before Blaze of Glory XV, the final chance to make a statement, to steal momentum, to start a fight, or to finish one, and if ya think anyone is takin it easy tonight, ya are outta your mind!
Simone: Everyone in that locker room knows what is on the horizon, and that means the stakes are higher, the tempers are shorter, and the action is going to be absolutely relentless!
Lunam: The egos are sharp, the nerves are tighter than me laces, and the opportunists are circlin like seagulls by the pier, this is the night where plans fall apart and new ones get made!
Simone: We have a stacked lineup tonight, we have rivalries heating up, we have championships looming in the distance, and we have the kind of moments that only happen on a milestone show like this!
Lunam: It is loaded top to bottom, and the whole roster is lookin to leave a mark, because when ya are this close to Blaze of Glory XV, ya do not just want a win, ya want a message!
Simone: So settle in, because we are about to run down everything coming your way tonight on Climax Control!
Lunam: Ah now here we go, the openin match tonight is a proper scorcher, Alexandra Calaway goin one on one with Bea Barnhart, and this whole thing is boilin over from last weeks Internet Qualifier, because Alexandra did not just steal Bea Barnharts thunder, she nicked it clean out from under her and walked off smilin, pinning Amelia Reynolds and snatchin the Internet title shot at Blaze of Glory XV right in front of Bea, and if ya think Bea forgot it for even a second, think again, she marched in and challenged Alexandra for tonight, retribution on the menu and she is lookin to make it hurt, Alexandra wants to prove she earned every bit of that spotlight, Bea wants to take it back with interest, and I am tellin ya, the bell is about to ring and the tension is already thick enough to cut with a blunt shillelagh!
Simone: Coming up next, Miles Kasey goes one on one with Brandon F n Hendrix, and the timing could not be more combustible, because Miles has the Internet Championship in his sights, he is set to challenge Alex Jones in a fight to regain the title he wants back around his waist! But tonight is not just about momentum, it is not just about making a statement, it is about the fact that Brandon is also headed straight into Blaze of Glory XV to face Miles own brother, LJ Kasey, and that turns this match into something personal in a hurry! Miles wants to prove he is ready to take the Internet Championship back, Brandon wants to break him down and send a message to LJ before they collide, and with family pride and championship ambition colliding at the same time, this is the kind of match that can light a fuse and keep it burning all the way to Blaze of Glory XV!
Lunam: Ah this one is tasty now, a non title scrap but do not let that fool ya, because the Internet Champion Alex Jones is steppin in with Zayvion Lyons, and both lads have a mountain of pressure on their backs! Alex has to keep himself sharp because he is set to defend that Internet title against the former champion Miles Kasey, and if he slips up tonight even for a heartbeat, Miles will smell it and take his head off at Blaze of Glory XV! And then ya have Zayvion, hungry and flyin, one of the four men who will be climbin that ladder for a shot at the Roulette championship, so this is not just about a win, it is about showin the whole world who belongs in the spotlight when the stakes get insane! Alex wants to leave no doubt that he is the champion for a reason, Zayvion wants to prove he can hang with the champ and then go steal a future at the top of a ladder, and I am tellin ya, this is the kind of match that turns momentum into destiny!
Simone: Next up we have a huge non title showdown as the World Bombshell Champion, Dreamkiller Kayla Richards, steps into the ring with Cassie Wolfe, and this is the kind of match where pride, momentum, and championship destiny all collide at once! Kayla may not be putting the title on the line tonight, but make no mistake, she has Blaze of Glory XV looming, where she defends against the very woman who ended her previous reign, Frankie Holliday! And across from her is Cassie Wolfe, with her own championship ambitions burning just as hot, because Cassie is set to challenge Bombshell Roulette Champion Alicia Lukas at Blaze of Glory XV, and she wants to show the world she belongs at the top of the division! Two women with titles and opportunities in their sights, two rivals looking to make a statement before the biggest night, and one ring that is about to feel very small when these two finally collide!
Lunam: Ah now this is where the chaos truly takes the wheel, because a six person tag is nearly unheard of in SCW, but what else were they supposed to do when the whole situation is ready to explode, this is the only way to try and keep a lid on it! Mercedes Vargas is on a collision course with her former friend and partner Crystal Zdunich in a Japanese Death match at Blaze of Glory XV while the maniacal Metal Maniacs are set to face Crystal's family, wife Seleana Zdunich and sister in law Zenna! Tonight Mercedes teams with Iron Maiden and Twisted Sister to face the Zdunich family, and I am tellin ya, this will not be tidy, it will not be polite, and it will not stay contained, this is six bodies, old friendships in flames, family loyalty on the line, and a Death match shadow hangin over it all, chaos is not just possible, it is guaranteed!
Simone: And then it is time for a main event that feels bigger than a typical championship showcase, because tonight we get a Clash of the Champions and a Clash of the GO Gym, as World Heavyweight Champion Helluva Bottom Carter goes one on one with Roulette Champion Logan Hunter! These are two elite athletes cut from the same brutal cloth, two GO Gym graduates who know exactly how the other trains, how the other thinks, and how the other survives when the pressure hits its peak, and that makes this match dangerous in a way you cannot script! Carter wants to prove the World Champion is the standard bearer no matter who stands across from him, Logan wants to show the Roulette Champion can outfight and outsmart the very top of the mountain, and the entire arena knows the tension is going to be explosive! And it gets even more volatile, because we already have word that Carter has special plans in store for Logan girlfriend and manager Brooke, on the off chance she decides to get involved, so if she so much as twitches toward that ring, you can bet Carter is ready to turn this from a championship clash into absolute chaos! All this and more on SCW Climax Control's 450th episode!
The roving camera person in the backstage area sees Bea Barnhart, accompanied by her husband Bill Barnhart, as the two exit the dressing room that is assigned to Bea. As they step into the hallway the camera person keeps their camera focused on the two as Bea comments on her upcoming match to open Climax Control 450.
Bea: I want everyone to know that we have not yet been told what type of match, and what type of rules, or lack of rules, pertains to my match against Alexandra. I suppose that Management wanted us to wait get into the match before they will announce the type of match I will have against Calaway.
Bill: Taking into consideration that you had a match with Alexandra to see which of you would win and go on to face the Champion for the Bombshell Internet Championship that it would be the same type of rules.
Bea: We often are not told what decisions will be made and what the type of rules our match will have until we enter the ring and the match begins.
Bill: Were you hoping for the same type of rules that were in play in the match you lost to Alexandra last week?
Bea: Not really. All I want is the opportunity to defeat her at Climax control 450 so that maybe, just maybe, Management will make the Bombshell Internet Championship a Triple Threat match.
Bill: We do not always get what we want. Management does not take directions from us as it is the wrestlers who take directions from Management.
Bea: Thanks Bill. I will just go into my match against Alexandra and do the what I always do and that is to do the best I can. If I win that would be nice. If I lose then so be it.
Bea and Bill stop at the entrance area to wait for their cue to make the entrance from Bea. Bill slides out the back of the entrance area to take up a seat at ringside to watch the match Bea is in.
Upbeat infomercial music. A glossy graphic explodes onto the screen: “PORTABLE FOREIGN OBJECT POCKET BRICK!” Sparkles, lens flares, and a slow-motion shot of a foam brick rotating like it’s a luxury watch.
Voice Over: Are you tired of watching pro wrestling and thinking, “Wow, this could use an unnecessary, suspicious object?” Do you long for that authentic sports entertainment feeling in your own living room?
Cut to a fan on a couch, watching wrestling. He leans forward, invested. The camera zooms in dramatically on his empty hands. Sad trombone.
Fan #1: Every match is great, but my hands feel… honest. Like I’m just sitting here. Respectfully. With nothing illegal in my pocket.
Voice Over: Not anymore! Introducing the Portable “Foreign Object” Pocket Brick, the foam brick designed to be smuggled into your own living room for authenticity.
Hero shot. A hand presents the foam brick. It is clearly foam. The graphic reads “100% USELESS” and “0% FUNCTIONAL.” Confetti pops.
Voice Over: It does nothing except make your pants fall down.
Fan #1: Finally. The realism I crave.
Smash cut. A different fan stands up confidently. The moment he takes one step, his pants slide down to his ankles. He freezes. His eyes widen. A laugh track hits.
Fan #2: Oh no. It’s happening.
Voice Over: That’s right. The Pocket Brick has the perfect, unnecessary “weight” distribution to sabotage your waistband at the worst possible moment.
The fan tries to walk with dignity. He shuffles like a penguin, clutching his pants with one hand and raising the other like he’s acknowledging a crowd.
Fan #2: I feel like a champion… and a cautionary tale.
Voice Over: Whether you’re heading to the kitchen for snacks or sprinting to the bathroom during commercials, the Pocket Brick guarantees one thing: inconvenience.
A stern “Expert” appears in front of a bookshelf with a clipboard and fake credentials on screen: “Dr. Mark Kayfabe, Totally Real Scientist.”
Dr. Kayfabe: The Pocket Brick is engineered with advanced non-technology to provide maximum uselessness. In my professional opinion, it is absolutely not needed by anyone, ever.
Voice Over: Thanks, Doctor. That’s the highest praise we could hope for.
Cut to the Host in a bright studio, holding the foam brick like it’s priceless.
Host: Folks, you’ve seen foreign objects used in matches for decades. But have you ever thought, “I wish I could introduce that same chaotic energy into my home… for no reason?”
Fan #3: All the time.
Host: Then you need the Portable “Foreign Object” Pocket Brick!
Host demonstrates sliding the foam brick into his pocket. Instantly, his belt loosens. His pants begin to drift downward like a slow elevator.
Host: Look at that craftsmanship. It’s already betraying me.
Voice Over: And it’s not just for pants. Try it in a hoodie pocket.
Host puts the brick in a hoodie pocket. The hoodie stretches comically to one side. He leans at a 20-degree angle like a confused statue.
Host: I look like I’m permanently mid-dodge.
Voice Over: Or slip it into your sock for that authentic “definitely not suspicious” walk.
A fan waddles across the room with one foot raised stiffly, arms out for balance, face determined.
Fan #4: I’m not limping. This is strategy.
Graphic: “REALISM: QUESTIONABLE.”
Voice Over: But wait, there’s more. Want to recreate the thrill of sneaking up on someone like a villain with no plan?
Host: You mean the classic “idiot husband thinks he’s slick” maneuver?
Voice Over: Exactly.
Cut to a suburban kitchen set. A wife stands at the stove stirring something. On-screen text: “DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. THESE PEOPLE ARE PROFESSIONALS AT MAKING BAD CHOICES.” The husband peeks around the corner, tiptoeing like a cartoon burglar. He has the foam Pocket Brick in hand and an expression that screams “I have never had consequences.”
Husband: (whispering) Okay… I’m gonna get her with the brick… she’s gonna be so surprised… I am a genius…
He creeps closer, knees bent, brick held like it’s the most dramatic weapon ever invented. He tries to look menacing but his sweatpants are already sliding down.
Husband: (whispering, panicking) Oh no. The brick’s doing the thing.
His pants drop to his ankles. He freezes. He tries to keep sneaking anyway, shuffling forward with tiny steps.
Husband: (whispering) Keep it together. Keep it together. Commit to the bit.
He reaches the wife and lightly taps her shoulder with the foam brick like he’s administering a gentle parking ticket.
Husband: Gotcha.
The wife turns slowly. Calm. Dead-eyed. She takes one look at the foam brick. Then she looks down at his pants pooled around his ankles. She sighs like this has happened before.
Wife: Are you… sneaking up on me with a foam brick… while your pants are on the floor?
Husband: It’s for authenticity.
Wife: For what.
Husband: For the living room. For the vibe.
The wife calmly reaches for a skillet. The music builds like a dramatic showdown.
Voice Over: Uh-oh. He has activated consequences.
Husband: Wait, babe, it’s foam. It’s harmless. It’s just a prop.
Wife: So are you.
She raises the skillet. The husband tries to back up, but his pants keep him trapped. He makes a slow, helpless shuffle.
Husband: I can’t retreat. The brick has compromised my base.
The wife brings the skillet down in a clearly exaggerated, cartoony bonk onto the foam brick he’s holding up like a shield. Loud comedic sound effect: “CLANG!” The husband staggers backward dramatically, landing on a pile of dish towels. No injury, no blood, pure slapstick.
Husband: (dazed) I have been outplayed… in my own kitchen…
Wife: Next time use a pillow like a normal person.
Voice Over: Portable “Foreign Object” Pocket Brick. It creates chaos, embarrassment, and immediate regret, just like the real thing.
Cut back to studio. Host holds up the brick. A graphic reads: “NOT A WEAPON. NOT USEFUL. NOT SMART.”
Host: And because it’s foam, it’s the safest useless purchase you’ll ever make.
Fan #5: I brought mine to the couch and my pants fell down before the bell even rang.
Host: That’s what we call a fast start.
Fan #5: My dog judged me.
Voice Over: Order now and we’ll include a bonus accessory: the Emergency Dignity Clip, a tiny plastic clamp that does absolutely nothing.
Host clips it to his waistband. It snaps off immediately and pings across the set.
Host: Wow. Useless.
Voice Over: That’s quality.
Host: So don’t wait. Add unnecessary confusion to your life today with the Portable “Foreign Object” Pocket Brick.
Voice Over: Portable “Foreign Object” Pocket Brick. For when your wrestling fandom demands maximum authenticity and minimum practicality.
Rapid-fire disclaimer text scrolls while everyone smiles too hard.
Voice Over: Pocket Brick is foam and is not intended for harm, helpfulness, or dignity. Side effects may include pants slippage, dramatic waddling, spouse retaliation with cookware, and being judged by pets. Do not attempt sneaking segments at home unless you are a trained idiot. If your waistband remains functional for more than four hours, consult a tailor.
Final shot. The foam brick rotates in slow motion. The Host gives a thumbs up while holding his pants up with the other hand.
Host: It’s useless. It’s ridiculous. It’s everything you never needed.
Voice Over: Call now. Operators are standing by, wondering why.
Justin: This match is scheduled for one fall… introducing first…
The lights go down and "Cry Little Sister" by Lyric Noel starts to play. The arena is filled with red 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 looks out over the crowd before continuing on. She smirks seeing some of the signs people made, a cocky smirk crossing 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 front row. She watches up the ramp, messing with her hair as she waits for 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 checks both for weapons before indicating for the bell to be rung…
DING DING DING!
Calaway and Barnhart circle the ring, as they both exchange a few words and insults before moving and they lock up and jockey for position in the centre of the ring for a few moments before Calaway breaks away and steps away. Barnhart glares at Calaway as they exchange a few more words before circling the ring once more.
Simone: a few words exchange and not of compliments. They move around before moving in and locking up and jockey before Calaway breaks and steps back as again the exchange a few more words.
They move in and lock up once more, but Barnhart manages to break the lock up and she grabs Calaway’s arm and locks in a wrist lock, which Calaway grimaces from the discomfort of it, as Barnhart tweaks her wrist a bit before Calaway drops to a knee briefly before rising back up and then rolls forwards and pivots and then kips up and counters the wristlock into one of her own and tweaks on Barnhart’s wrist. Barnhart grimaces as she looks for a way out as Calaway keeps the wrist in place.
Lunam: They move in and lock up again, as Barnhart breaks the lock up and grabs Calaway’s arm and tweaks it. Calaway hunts for a way and she does and counters it into one of her own.
Barnhart slowly inches towards the ropes, as Calaway follows without realising until they reach the ropes and Barnhart grabs the top rope and flips herself backwards and counters the wristlock once more as she quickly adjusts and tweaks her wrist. Calaway takes a moment before cartwheeling and countering and putting in another wristlock and puts extra pressure on it. Barnhart shakes her head as once more she hunts for a way out of the move, as she continues to move and think about how to exit the wristlock and then she kicks her legs around before hitting an arm drag and sends Calaway across the ring.
Simone: Barnhart reaches the ropes and frees herself from the wristlock and once more another counter. Calaway quickly escapes this one and once again counters and Barnhart escapes this one and instead of a counter, she hits an arm drag.
Barnhart smirks as she makes her way to her feet, as Calaway leans against the ropes for the a few moments before making her way to her feet. Calaway moves away from the ropes as Barnhart continues to smirk and some bragging, as Calaway then rushes in and tries to catch Barnhart off guard as she drops to the mat, but Barnhart leaps up and over Calaway before Barnhart rushes forwards to the ropes and bounces off them and Calaway makes her way to her feet and as Barnhart charges at her, she leaps over her before Barnhart bounces off the ropes, as Calaway drops and rolls backwards and Barnhart leaps forward and rolls back to her feet, as they both then get back to their feet.
Lunam: Barnhart brags a little, as Calaway glares at Barnhart, before making her way to her feet. She charges at Barnhart, but Barnhart is ready for her and she leaps over. Barnhart rushes forward and bounces off the ropes and Calaway leaps over Barnhart.
Simone: things speed up, as Barnhart bounces off the ropes again, as Calaway waits for Barnhart, but Barnhart leaps over her and they get back to their feet.
Barnhart turns as Calaway moves in and tries for an arm drag but its blocked, Calaway pulls herself up and moves around Barnhart and grabs the other arm and hits an arm drag and sends Barnhart across the ring, as Barnhart stumbles to her feet, as Calaway makes her way to her feet. Calaway rushes forward and Barnhart regains where she is, Calaway clotheslines her right out of the ring.
Lunam: Calaway goes for an arm drag but it’s blocked, but she quickly adjusts and tries again and this time its it and sends Barnhart across the ring.
Simone: Calaway rushes forward and sends Barnart out of the ring.
Barnhart lands on her feet and a bit dazed, as Calaway turns and bounces off the ropes and charges forward through the ropes and hits a suicide dive and catches Barnhart, as both end up against the barriers and down. The ref climbs from the ring and checks on both before backing away and climbs back into the ring. Calaway is the first to move, as she rolls off Barnhart and makes her way to her feet, where she moves to the ring apron as the ref begins a count…
Lunam: Calaway flies out of the ring with a suicide dive and catches Barnhart.
Simone: Calaway takes a moment, as the ref begins a count.
ONE!
TWO!
Calaway moves back to Barnhart, where she grabs her by the hair and drags her up and then sets up and hits a running bulldog.
THREE!
FOUR!
Lunam: Calaway making sure Barnhart is going to get up.
Calaway then makes her way to feet and grabs Barnhart once again and drags her up and then rolls her back into the ring.
FIVE!
Calaway follows close behind, where she moves to Barnhart and rolls her onto her back and into a pin…
Simone: Calaway rolls Barnhart back into the ring and follows close behind.
ONE!
TWO!
TH…kickout!
Barnhart kicks out, as Calaway looks to the ref before turning back to Barnhart, where she climbs to her feet and grabs Barnhart and drags her up, where she drives her into the corner, where she unleashes a serious of furious punches before following up with knees to her stomach, which Barnhart then drops to a knee holding her torso, Calaway grabs Barnhart and pulls her up to her feet.
Lunam: Barnhart kicks out, which Calaway looks to the ref annoyed but, she climbs back to her feet, as she grabs Barnhart and pulls her up and pushes her into a corner. She unleashes some punches and then knees to her stomach.
Calaway lifts Barnhart up onto the top rope before carefully manoeuvring her onto her shoulders, Calaway then steps forward as she looks for the air raid crash, but Barnhart begins to wriggle and move about on her shoulders before dropping down behind Calaway. Barnhart pushes Calaway forward to give her some space, as Calaway turns and Barnhart fires in a forearm shot.
Simone: Calaway lifts Barnhart onto her shoulders, as she looks for the air raid crash, but Barnhart begins to wriggle and shift her weight, where she then drops behind Calaway and she gives her a shove.
Lunam: Nice forearm shot.
Calaway stumbles away and Barnhart rushes forward and takes aim at Calaway’s knee and chop blocks her down. Calaway drops to a knee and Barnhart slowly makes her way to her feet, where she fires in some kicks to Calaway’s back before switching to her chest, which Calaway tries to cover up the best she can.
Lunam: Barnhart hits a chop block and sends Calaway down, where Barnhart hits some kicks to the chest and back.
Barnhart stops and backs up before rushing in and hits a shining wizard before kicking Calaway onto her back and she goes for a pin…
ONE!
TWO!
TH…kickout!
Simone: shining wizard and Barnhart goes for a pin… but Calaway kicks out.
Calaway kicks out, as Barnhart tries again…
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout!
Barnhart shakes her head, as she makes her way to her feet and takes a moment, where she then delivers a couple of boots to Calaway before bending down and grabs Calaway’s leg and then proceeds to tie up and locks in The Pretzel (Figure Four Leglock). Calaway cries out as she grimaces from the pain, as Barnhart screams at her to tap, but Calaway doesn’t and she fights through the pain, as she begins to roll from side to side as she manages to reverse the leglock but instead of taking advantage, she releases and then scrambles to the ropes.
Lunam: Calaway kicks out, as she continues to hunt for the win, as she grabs Calaway’s legs and looks to make her tap out with The Pretzel.
Simone: Calaway in obvious pain but she looks for a way out, and she counters the leglock before breaking and moving to the ropes.
Barnhart crawls away, as Calaway pulls herself in and sits up, where she stretches her legs. Barnhart makes her way to her feet, as Calaway also slowly moves to her feet, she does a little stretch as she and Barnhart stare at each other for a moment before rushing in and begin brawl. They trade a flurry shots against each other before Calaway fires in some hard forearm shots, which Barnhart takes a few steps backwards and Calaway then delivers a couple of slaps to Barnhart’s face, Barnhart stumbles backwards holding her face before Calaway follows up with a roundhouse kick.
Lunam: Oooh I like a brawl… they have some stiff shots there.
Simone: Barnhart then gets more than a stiff shot, as Calaway hits a roundhouse kick.
Barnhart drops to the mat, as Calaway moves in and grabs Barnhart once more, where she drags her to the ropes and hits a STO into the ropes. Calaway moves back to her feet, where she pulls Barnhart up again as she climbs to the middle rope and then proceeds to set up and hit the Apocalypse {Elevated Powerbomb/Last Ride, sometimes from the second rope as well}.
Lunam: Barnhart is done. Calaway with the Apocalypse.
She then pins her…
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Simone: Calaway picks up the win and gives her momentum into the next supercard.
DING DING DING!
Justin: Winner of this match via pinfall… Alexandra Calaway.
Calaway rolls off Barnhart and slowly makes her way to her feet, as her music hits over the p.a, as the referee grabs her hand and raises it high in victory.
We cut to the backstage area where we see Harper Mason sitting on a crate.
Harper: So, right now I don’t even know if I’m going to be booked for Blaze of Glory while Cassie is set to challenge Alicia Lukas for the Roulette Title and is facing Kayla Richards in a non-title match tonight.
Harper shakes her head.
Harper: Guess the only thing I can do right now is cheer on Cass.
Harper adds as she lets out a deep breath.
Harper: But trust me when I say that whatever and whenever my next match is? I’ll come at my opponent, or opponents, with full force!
Harper hops off he crate and walks off as the scene fades.
The camera finds them the way you find a bad idea in motion, halfway done and already committed.
A production hallway. Fluorescent lights. A folding table nobody owns but everyone uses. Cables coiled like sleeping snakes. A clipboard sits on the edge of the table, unattended for half a breath.
Anthrax snatches it like it owes him money.
Twisted Sister leans in immediately, eyes wide with the kind of delight that never means anything good. Iron Maiden lingers a step back, arms folded, head tilted, watching the hallway more than the paper, like a guard dog that does not bark because it does not need to.
Anthrax: Ohhh. Oh, this is sacred! This is the holy book. This is the plan!
Twisted Sister: The plan is a lie!
Anthrax flips the top sheet around like they are about to reveal state secrets. The camera catches the header, the neat block lettering, the order of the night. Real matches. Real names. Real structure.
Anthrax drags a thick black marker from nowhere. Cap off with his teeth. A click that sounds like a gun cock in a quiet room.
Anthrax: All right. Rebook the show. Right now!
Twisted Sister: On chaos alone.
Iron Maiden does not move. She just stares at the clipboard like she is reading it through the paper.
Anthrax plants the clipboard against the table, hunches over it, and starts crossing out names with dramatic, aggressive strokes.
Twisted Sister: First match. Alexandra Calaway versus Bea Barnhart. Cute. Predictable. Like a movie you have seen and hated.
Anthrax: Wrong! It is now…
He scribbles out both names and writes in new ones with huge, uneven letters.
Anthrax: SNOOP DOGG vs CHARLIE BROWN!
Twisted Sister claps once, sharp and delighted.
Twisted Sister: Charlie Brown finally gets his main event push!
Anthrax: Not a main event. Yet. He has to earn it. He is a little bald underdog.
Twisted Sister: And Snoop is a legend!
Anthrax underlines it twice and adds a random stipulation in the margin.
Anthrax: Stipulation. No rules. No mercy. Also, no feelings!
Twisted Sister: Especially no feelings!
Anthrax continues down the card like a kid with scissors in a room full of ribbons.
Twisted Sister: Miles Kasey versus Brandon “F’n” Hendrix. This one has muscles!
Anthrax: Delete it!
He crosses out both names and writes fast.
Anthrax: BETTY WHITE vs THE UNDERTAKER!
Twisted Sister: I love it!
Anthrax: Casket match! But the casket is full of glitter!
Twisted Sister: And bees!
Anthrax pauses, considers that with the seriousness of a scientist.
Anthrax: Yes. Bees.
Iron Maiden’s lips twitch. Not quite a smile. But close enough to count as a threat.
Twisted Sister: Alex Jones versus Zayvion Lyons. Non-title. Boooo! It needs a crown! It needs blood! It needs a guest star!
Anthrax: Absolutely!
He slashes the names out and writes again, bigger this time.
Anthrax: ELVIS PRESLEY vs MICKEY MOUSE!
Twisted Sister: Elvis is dead, which makes him more charismatic!
Anthrax: Last man standing. But the count is done by a cartoon bird with a tiny referee shirt!
Twisted Sister: The bird is biased!
Anthrax: The bird is paid off!
Iron Maiden: The bird is corrupt.
Then she goes silent again. Arms still folded. Watching the hallway. Anthrax moves to the next match, the marker squeaking like it is laughing.
Twisted Sister: “Dreamkiller” Kayla Richards versus Cassie Wolfe.
Anthrax: Gone!
He crosses out the names with such force the paper dents.
Anthrax: PRINCESS DIANA vs JOKER!
Twisted Sister’s eyes widen like spotlights.
Twisted Sister: That is a headline!
Anthrax: No disqualifications! No mercy. Also, the ring ropes are replaced with red velvet!
Iron Maiden makes a small sound that might be approval or might be hunger.
Anthrax: And now, Main Event! Clash of the Champions! Helluva Bottom Carter versus Logan Hunter.
Twisted Sister: This is where we do our masterpiece!
He crosses both names out. He pauses like he is choosing a weapon. Then he writes in big block letters, taking up most of the line.
Anthrax: BATMAN vs KIM JONG-IL!
Twisted Sister: Oh my god…..!
Anthrax: Steel cage! No escape! No mercy!
Twisted Sister leans even closer, practically on top of him, and starts narrating the insanity like it is a documentary.
Twisted Sister: Look at this. Look at the creativity. Look at the professionalism. Look at the vision. We are saving this company from structure.
Anthrax: Structure is a cage.
Iron Maiden reaches out, takes the marker for a moment without asking. She does not write words. She draws one thing, slow and deliberate.
A small, perfectly drawn gallows in the corner of the page. Under it, three tiny stick figures. Above it, a smiling face. The smile is wrong. The smile is the kind you remember after you wake up. She caps the marker and hands it back. That is all. Anthrax stares at it, delighted.
A voice off-camera, sharp and furious, breaks the spell.
Producer: What in the hell are you doing with my clipboard?
The camera swings to catch a producer storming into frame, headset on, lanyard bouncing, face red in the way that says this job has stolen years.
Anthrax: You are welcome!
Producer: You did not fix anything! That is the lineup. Give it back. Now!
Twisted Sister hugs the clipboard to her chest like it is a baby.
Twisted Sister: No! TThis is what the people want!
Producer: The people want the show I already wrote. Hand it over!
Anthrax: You are welcome!
Producer: I did not say thank you.
Anthrax: You are welcome anyway.
Iron Maiden shifts one half-step, just enough to be in the producer’s peripheral vision. She does not speak. She just looks at him, expression empty, eyes focused like she is deciding what shape he would be if he were folded.
The producer’s anger wobbles for a fraction of a second into uncertainty. He points at the clipboard.
Producer: Give it. Back.
Twisted Sister’s grin spreads wider.
Twisted Sister: Fine. Fine. We are professionals. We respect authority.
She hands it over with exaggerated gentleness, like she is returning a priceless artifact. The producer snatches it and looks down.
The camera zooms in again. Close enough to see the ink strokes. Close enough to see the spiral. Close enough to see the gallows and the smiling face.
Producer: What is this? Why is Charlie Brown wrestling Snoop Dogg? Why is Elvis wrestling Mickey Mouse? Why is Batman wrestling…
He stops himself. Like saying it out loud would make it real.
Anthrax: Creative notes!
Producer: This is not usable.
Anthrax: It is inspirational!
Producer: It is illegal.
Twisted Sister: It is visionary!
The producer looks up at them, clipboard trembling slightly in his hand. He opens his mouth like he is going to explode.
Iron Maiden: Headliners.
Then she straightens and goes quiet again.
The producer glances down one last time, sees the word HEADLINER scrawled and underlined like a threat, and makes a decision that has nothing to do with bravery and everything to do with survival.
Producer: Get away from my table. Right now. Before I get security.
Twisted Sister steps back with a dramatic bow.
Twisted Sister: Security loves us.
Anthrax: Everyone loves us.
The producer storms off, clutching the clipboard like it is a wounded animal. As he goes, he tries to smudge out one of the doodles with his thumb and only makes it worse.
The three of them watch him leave.
Twisted Sister: He is going to be thinking about that gallows all night.
Anthrax: Good. That means it worked.
Iron Maiden’s gaze drifts to the camera. For a beat, she looks straight into the lens. She does not smile.
Then she turns away, and the three of them stroll down the hallway like they own it, like the show belongs to them now, like the real lineup is just a suggestion waiting to be murdered by marker ink.
Justin: The following contest is scheduled for one fall!
Lightening strikes the stage and the smoke disappears as Brandon Hendrix stands in the middle of the stage, “Anger’s Remorse”. He stares out to the cheering crowd, pointing to them before looking back at the stage, then tosses his arms up, creating a white flame that shoots up from the stage.
Justin: INTRODUCING FIRST! FROM MILAN, ITALY RESIDING IN SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS! HE WEIGHS IN TONIGHT AT TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY FIVE POUNDS! THE GOD OF HOPE!
HHHHHHEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNDDDDDDRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIXXXXXXXXXX!!!!!!
Brandon starts walking down the ramp, a single light shining down on Hendrix. The fans have all turned their flashlights on their phones and hold their phones up. The entire arena is lit with lights and the fans wave their phones along to the song. Brandon continues his walk down the long ramp of where SCW is being taken place, thousand fans becoming Brandon's light in this battle with a his opponents being who they are. Brandon looks around, giving a slight nod to those who back him before he walks up the steel steps, wiping his feet before entering the ring. Brandon stares at his opponent, and acknowledges the war that is coming. He takes his jacket off and hands it to crew outside the ring. Brandon stands in his corner and tells his opponents to bring it.
Simone: Brandon Hendrix doesn’t waste emotion. He conserves it, stores it, and then weaponizes it.
Lunam: And tonight, he’s facing a man who thrives on chaos. If Hendrix is a scalpel, Miles Kasey is a lightning bolt.
Justin: And his opponent!
"Throne" by Bring Me The Horizon hits the speakers—opening with the haunting keys before that first crashing riff. The Arena plunges into darkness.
Justin: From Manchester UK! MILESSSSS KASSEEEEEYYYYYYYYYY
A single spotlight beams down onto the stage as blue and gold lights begin to swirl like a storm forming. The opening instrumental kicks in heavier, and the fans immediately erupt, knowing who’s coming. A slow roll of fog creeps along the ramp, and just as the beat drops—
BOOM!
Miles Kasey steps through the smoke, hood up, head down.
His long jacket flows behind him, the blue and gold design of his gear catching flashes of light like armor under moonlight. The hood casts a slight shadow over his face, but the grin is unmistakable. He pauses at the top of the ramp, slowly raising his head.
Camera zooms in on his eyes.
The hook hits: “So you can throw me to the wolves…”
Miles throws his arms out in a wide, defiant pose as a wave of gold and blue pyro explodes behind him, illuminating the arena in heroic brilliance.
“…Tomorrow I will come back, leader of the whole pack!”
He rips the hood down, revealing that confident smirk. Fans are on their feet, feeding off his energy.
Miles starts his slow, swagger-filled walk down the ramp. He slaps a few hands, points out some fans in the crowd, and gives a subtle nod to the camera like "Yeah, this is mine tonight."
At ringside, he climbs the apron with ease, wipes his boots, and leaps over the top rope in one smooth motion. He heads to the turnbuckle, climbing to the second rope. Miles raises a single fist into the air as a final golden spotlight hits him, the crowd roaring behind him.
Then he hops down, shrugging off his jacket like it weighs nothing. His eyes lock onto Brandon Hendrix.
DING DING DING!
They circle slowly at first. Hendrix keeps his guard high, chin tucked, studying. Kasey bounces lightly, shoulders loose. They lock up, and Hendrix immediately shifts into control, wrenching the arm and twisting into a hammerlock. Kasey rolls forward, flips through the pressure, and snaps Hendrix over with a Japanese arm drag that sends him skidding across the canvas. The crowd pops.
Hendrix rises, expression unchanged. He steps back in, but this time there’s no tie-up. He drives a sudden knee into Kasey’s midsection, follows with a sharp right hook, then a snapping left jab. Kasey stumbles back and Hendrix steps in with a knee to the gut and a vicious uppercut that lifts Miles slightly off his feet.
Simone: That combo is clinical. Right hook, left jab, knee, uppercut. He’s not throwing wild strikes. He’s dismantling.
Hendrix presses the advantage, hoisting Kasey into a vertical suplex and holding him suspended just long enough to let the crowd feel the control before dropping him hard. He pulls him up again, only to launch him across the ring with a fallaway slam that sends Miles rolling toward the ropes.
Hendrix stalks him into the corner and begins hammering sharp jabs into the ribs. One after another, digging into exposed body parts, forcing Kasey to protect his midsection. Hendrix steps back and explodes forward with a crushing corner clothesline that nearly folds Kasey in half. He drags him out and plants him with a thunderous spinebuster that shakes the ring.
ONE!
TWO!
Kasey kicks out.
Lunam: That wasn’t desperation. That was a statement.
Hendrix nods slightly, as if acknowledging the resistance. He pulls Miles up again, but this time Kasey slips behind and counters with an arm wrench takedown. He keeps hold of the wrist, kips up smoothly, and spikes Hendrix down with a head grip mat slam. The pace shifts instantly.
Miles sprints to the ropes and returns with a diving crossbody that crashes into Hendrix’s chest. He hooks the leg for two before Hendrix powers out. Kasey doesn’t hesitate. He attempts a backdrop suplex, but Hendrix drives sharp elbows into the side of his skull to break free. Hendrix shoves him toward the ropes and charges forward for a spear, but Kasey leapfrogs at the last second.
Hendrix crashes shoulder-first into the turnbuckle post.
The crowd roars as Kasey springs into action. He rebounds off the ropes, leaps to the second rope, and launches into a flawless moonsault that lands square across Hendrix’s torso. He hooks the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Hendrix kicks out.
Simone: You blink, and Miles Kasey has stolen the tempo.
Kasey pulls Hendrix up and attempts a standing Spanish Fly, but Hendrix blocks it with heavy elbows to the side of the head. He shoves Miles away and explodes forward with a spear that turns Kasey inside out. Hendrix crawls into the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
Kasey kicks out at the last possible heartbeat. The frustration flickers across Hendrix’s face for the first time.
He drags Kasey up and transitions smoothly into MAMA E PAPA, locking in the crossface and grapevining the legs before snaking his arm around the neck, threatening to transition into the sleeper portion of the hold. Kasey’s face contorts in pain as Hendrix cranks back.
Lunam: This is suffocation by design. You don’t escape this. You survive it.
Miles claws toward the ropes, fingertips grazing the bottom strand. Hendrix wrenches tighter. The crowd builds in volume as Kasey shifts his hips, rolls through the pressure, and manages to stack Hendrix’s shoulders briefly for a near fall. Hendrix releases the hold instantly to avoid the three.
They scramble up simultaneously. Kasey bursts forward with a sudden double foot stomp to Hendrix’s back, sending him to his knees. Miles sees his opening. He hooks the waist and delivers a crisp backdrop suplex, bridging high for a cover that forces another close two-count.
Now the pace accelerates.
Kasey hits the ropes, rebounds with an Irish Hammer that rocks Hendrix backward, then snaps him down with a vertical suplex of his own. The crowd is fully behind him now as he drags Hendrix into position and climbs to the top rope.
Simone: If he lands this.
Kasey launches into a Reverse 450 but Hendrix rolls out of the way at the last second and Miles crashes hard! Hendrix doesn’t waste time. He grabs Kasey and hoists him high above his head in a military press. The strength display draws a reaction before Hendrix walks forward and throws him over the top rope to the floor below.
Lunam: That is terrifying power.
Hendrix exits the ring methodically. He lifts Kasey and drives him spine-first into the barricade. He rolls him back inside, slides in, and pulls him up for a powerbomb, planting him center ring. He stacks him high.
ONE!
TWO!
Kasey survives again.
Hendrix shakes his head. He measures his opponent and attempts the MAFIA, hooking the arms for the lifting Death Rider-style driver. Kasey fights desperately, flipping out and landing on his feet behind him. In one breathtaking motion, Kasey hits a standing Spanish Fly that leaves both men laid out.
The crowd explodes.
Both men slowly stir. They rise on instinct more than awareness. Kasey fires a forearm. Hendrix answers with an elbow to the skull. Another forearm. Another elbow. The exchange intensifies until Hendrix lands that right hook, left jab, knee to the gut, and uppercut combination again, staggering Miles.
Hendrix charges for another spear But Kasey sidesteps and blasts him with Double Edged Sword, the Hidden Blade-style strike connecting flush to the side of Hendrix’s head. Hendrix stumbles, dazed but still upright.
Kasey doesn’t hesitate. He hoists him up and spins through Hail to the Queen, the Storm Breaker-style slam driving Hendrix violently into the canvas.
The cover!
ONE!
TWO!
Hendrix kicks out.
The arena loses its mind.
Simone: How did he survive that?!
Kasey stares at the referee in disbelief before nodding to himself. He pulls Hendrix up again. Hendrix swings wildly. Kasey ducks and rebounds off the ropes.
Blast from the Past. The Os Cutter connects clean. He hooks the leg deep.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
The bell rings!
DING DING DING!
Miles Kasey rolls off and collapses onto his back, chest heaving, staring up at the lights as the crowd erupts in a standing ovation. Brandon Hendrix lies motionless for a moment before slowly turning onto his side, frustration etched across his face.
Simone: That was a war fought at two different speeds, and somehow they both made it work. Hendrix tried to dissect him, piece by piece, and Miles kept finding ways to ignite the whole building.
Lunam: Hendrix hit him with precision, power, and that suffocating MAMA E PAPA, and Miles still had the lungs to sprint through the endgame. Double Edged Sword, Hail to the Queen, and even that didn’t put Brandon away until Blast from the Past landed flush.
Simone: And give Brandon Hendrix credit. He kicked out of Hail to the Queen, survived chaos, survived momentum, survived a finish-level sequence. But one clean mistake, one fraction of a second after that Reverse 450 crash, and Miles never stopped pressing.
Lunam: Miles Kasey didn’t just win. He earned it, inch by inch, heartbeat by heartbeat. If this is what one fall looks like between them, imagine what they do when the stakes get even higher.
The cameras catch up with Zayvion Lyons chillin’ backstage with his manager Cleo Phillips, both just casually posted against a wall. He lets the cameras linger for a moment before speaking.
Zayvion Lyons: At Blaze Of Glory, I have the opportunity to earn myself a championship match. Three other men stand in my way. I got that big dumb meathead Bill Barnhart who I already beat in my debut match.
He pauses.
Zayvion Lyons: I got Brayden Williams or Brayden Hilton whatever his name is. He's just one of those brothers who's got nothing more than a loud mouth. We also got Ciaran Doyle, who honestly doesn't seem like too bad of a dude, but he's just in the wrong place at the wrong time because this is the moment of the Flyin Lion.
Cleo Phillips: Tell em’
Zayvion Lyons: What three of you need to do is watch my match with Alex Jones tonight. Because I've got something to prove and when I beat Alex Jones in the middle of that ring, the three of you and everyone else will know that Zayvion Lyons is the next big thing in SCW and like I said before you can come along for the ride, or you can be left behind in the dust. Alex Jones you better prefer yourself because you have no idea what's coming for you, I'll see you out there champ.
Cleo Phillips: Bet.
With that the two of them walk off camera and it fades out.
“Hey You” by Nova Rockefeller plays on the sound system as the Bombshell internet Champion Victoria Lyons makes her way out to the ring to mostly disdain from the crowd. She just rolls her eyes at the audience as her and her fiance Darian stand in the ring where she's given a microphone.
Victoria Lyons: Alexandra Calaway….
The crowd cheers as soon as Victoria mentions Calaway's name.
Victoria Lyons: Congratulations Alexandra on winning your match and earning your right to face me and congratulations on your engagement as well. You know Darian and I recently set our date. May 18th in Victoria, Canada.
Lunam: May 18th… I believe that would be Victoria Day in Canada. So Victoria is getting married in Victoria, Canada on Victoria Day.
Simone: Of course she is.
Victoria Lyons: Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, we can talk business. I'm sure you and everyone have a lot to say about my loss to Alicia Lukas last week. I've lost matches before, it's nothing new to me at this point. If anything it should make you even more concerned.
She pauses.
Victoria Lyons: You should be concerned because nobody rebounds from a loss harder than me. Plus I have a championship on the line? Those two together make for a very dangerous lioness. This isn't going to be a situation where Harper Mason comes in for the assist Alexandra. This is going to be like the good old days when I used to beat you all over this ring.
She laughs.
Victoria Lyons: I've said it before you're good, great even, and maybe I've even grown to kind of like you a little bit. But when it comes to you and I you will always be just a few steps behind. You might one up me now and then, but I will always lead on the scoreboard And at Blaze of Glory it will be the same old story where Alexandra Calaway once again fails to capture a championship.
The crowd boos Victoria's comments.
Victoria Lyons: I'll see you at Blaze of Glory old friend, I fully expect you to bring a fight, but we both know how it's going to end.
With a look of confidence, she drops the mic and holds her Internet Championship high in the air, before her music hits once again and her and Darian make their way to the back.
Early morning. Bella and Mal’s home just outside New York City. A gray sky hangs over for an incoming storm with the snow that fell already, half-melted. More was coming anyways, and lots of wind.
Inside, Bella sits at the counter. Wearing an oversized hoodie. Her blonde hair tied back wearing no makeup.
A mug sits untouched in front of her. Her phone vibrates on the counter. She doesn’t look as it vibrates again. She still doesn’t look as a third vibration follows. Bella flips the phone face down without reading it.
She walks away and heads upstairs as Bella walks past Máire’s room.
Her door cracked open as she peaks inside and we hear soft toddler breathing. It’s peaceful.
Bella pauses as her hand rises halfway toward the doorframe but she stops. She lowers it and keeps moving.
We cut to the outside to the barn that houses the training area. It sits alone against the tree line. Bella steps into frame and stops several feet away. She isn’t dressed to train. She just stands there.
A sudden gust of wind SLAMS the barn door against its latch with a BANG. Bella reacts instantly, hands up, feet shift and her stance set. Perfect reflex. A fighter ready for impact.
Then she realizes where she is. Her hands lower slowly and her jaw tightens. She exhales through her nose, frustrated with herself.
We are set down inside the barn now and we see Bella standing inches from the door. She reaches out but she stops.
Her forehead presses lightly against the wood for just a second. She steps back and does not open the door.
Instead standing out there as the winter sun sinks low. Bella stands closer to the door than before, her hand rests flat against the wood. She doesn’t open it. And she doesn’t walk away.
She just stands there.
Breathing.
The scene goes black and on the screen we see in her handwriting: INSTINCT NEVER LEAVES. PURPOSE HAS TO BE CHOSEN.
What is my purpose?
Simone: Welcome back to the Go Home edition of Climax Control for Blaze of Glory XV and this next match involves two men who will be involved in the title scene come Blaze of Glory XV! Alex Jones will defend the Internet Championship against Miles Kasey in a Ladder Match while Zayvion Lyons will take on Ciaran Doyle, Bill Barnhart, and Brayden Hilton in a Fatal Four Way Ladder Match to determine the next challenger for the Roulette Championship but tonight? They will meet in non-title action!
Lunam: Zayvion’s new to the business but he is a Lyons and the success of his siblings Eddie, Victoria and Vincent speaks for themselves but Alex is a veteran and a multi time champion for a reason!
Simone: Let’s take it to Justin!
Justin: The following non-title match is scheduled for one fall!
Tommy Vext's "Cancel the king" hits and as the lyrics of the intro cut into the guitar Alex steps out wearing a black and red "wolfslair" t-shirt and his wrestling gear. He makes his way down to the ring with an arrogant sneer before leaping up onto the ring apron.
Justin: Introducing first, from Dallas, Texas, weighing 225ibs he is the Internet Champion ALEX JONES!
Simone: Alex has been back in SCW for two years now and it’s like he never left!
Lunam: For better or worse!
Justin: And his opponent!
“Backyard Boogie” by Mack 10 hits and Zayvion Lyons explodes through the curtain already dancing shoulders rolling, feet bouncing, moving like he’s stepped straight out of a backyard party. He grins wide, throwing a quick two-step before pointing out to the crowd as if inviting them to move with him.
Cleo Phillips follows a few steps behind, composed, and stone-faced, letting Zayvion steal every ounce of attention while she watches the surroundings like a strategist.
Zayvion dances his way down the ramp instead of walking, mixing in a smooth shuffle, a quick spin, and a playful bounce as he slaps hands on both sides. Halfway down, he stops, hits a bigger move to the beat, arms swinging, feet tapping, then laughs and nods as the crowd reacts.
At ringside, he slides under the bottom rope, pops up immediately, and keeps the rhythm going with a short freestyle in the center of the ring. He climbs the turnbuckle, dancing in place for a second before throwing his arms up, hyping the crowd.
Justin: Accompanied to the ring by Cleo Phillips, from Inglewood, California, weighing 214ibs this is “Flyin’” ZAYVION LYONS!
Simone: As we said, Zayvion signed with SCW after Inception VIII and he has been impressive.
Lunam: But Alex is going to really test him tonight!
Cleo steps into the ring calmly and takes her spot in the corner, arms crossed, laser-focused, as Zayvion hops down, still moving to the music, loose, confident, and ready to go, Dawn goes over the rules with both men before she calls for the bell.
DING DING DING!
Simone: And the non-title match is underway!
Lunam: The veteran Alex Jones against the rookie Zayvion Lyons, this is gonna be good!
Zayvion offers Alex a handshake to start the match but the Texas responds by slapping the taste out of Zayvion’s mouth! Cleo makes her displeasure known at ringside but Alex flips her off to boot only to get Zayvion’s boots to his face courtesy of a HUGE dropkick! Cleo cheers on the young wrestler as Alex scrambles to his feet only to get hit with another Dropkick at which point Alex bails from the ring!
Simone: Alex just learned what Zayvion is all about!
Lunam: Did we mention that this kid is only twenty one?! And he has a former PWS: Apex and Legacy Champion in his corner in the form of Cleo, Alex had better not underestimate him!
Alex clutches at his aching jaw while Cleo gets in his face, Alex stands up for himself but the camera doesn’t quite pick up what they are saying before it’s abruptly broken by Zayvion faking out a Suicide Dive to the outside only to 619 himself back into the ring when Alex ducks out of the way! Alex points to his own forehead to indicate how smart he is only to get wiped out when Zayvion flips over the Turnbuckle and catches him with a dive!
Simone: Ironically, Darian tried that same taunt in last week’s Main Event between Alicia Lukas and Victoria Lyons!
Lunam: Ended about as well as it did tonight as it did last week to boot!
Zayvion is the first one to his feet and he throws Alex back into the ring where he goes for he first pin of the match.
ONE!
TWO!
And Alex kicks out at two! Zayvion shakes his head before he heads to the ring apron and waits for Alex to get back to his feet, when he does Zayvion goes for a Springboard Dropkick but Alex ducks out of the ring! Zayvion manages to roll to his feet but Alex immediately seizes the opportunity to chop block Zayvion’s right leg.
Simone: And this was inevitable, Alex’s experience was bound to kick in at some point and no, that pun wasn’t intended!
Lunam: Going after the leg is even worse news for a High Flyer like Zayvion!
Alex is all smiles as he continues to kick away at Zayvion’s leg while Cleo shouts words of encouragement from ringside and the crowd rallies behind the youngster, Alex just ignores them and locks in a Single Leg Boston Crab on Zayvion targeting his bad leg for good measure and despite the clear pan he’s in? Zayvion refuses to give up the fight as Alex cranks up the pressure, after a few minutes it looks like Zayvion’s going to force the rope break only for Alex to drag hm back to the centre of the ring!
Simone: Zayvion almost had the rope break but Alex basically went “not today rookie”!
Lunam: All the while his leg is gonna be in agony!
Cleo doesn’t let up on the hype train for Zayvion as the younger does everything he can to fight Alex’s hold, all the while Alex is doing everything he can to make things as painful as possible for Zayvion! This time? Zayvion does reach the ring ropes and forces the break and Alex holds on for four more seconds before he drags the youngster back to the centre of the ring and goes for a pin!
ONE!
TWO!
And Zayvion kicks out! Alex shakes his head and actually tells Cleo to shut up before he goes to pick up Zayvion ONLY TO BE CAUGHT WITH A SMALL PACKAGE!
ONE!
TWO!
And Alex kicks out!
Simone: Zayvion is still in the fight and almost caught Alex with that Small Package!
Lunam: Not surprised, we are talking about the younger cousin to Eddie, Victoria, and Vincent here!
Alex is the first one to his feet and while Zayvion is hobbling on his leg that doesn’t stop him from firing shots at Alex! At one point Zayvion goes to kick Alex with his bad leg but Alex catches the kick and starts mouthing off to Zayvion who hits the Texan with an Enziguri for his troubles, Zayvion hobbles over to the ropes and heads to the top rope attempting to hit a 450 Splash but Alex rolls out of the way causing Zayvion to crash and burn! Alex goes for a pin!
ONE!
TWO!
And Zayvion kicks out! But Alex decides to end it by calling for The Dragon Sleeps!
Simone: Alex is looking for his finisher!
Lunam: Can Zayvion fight it?
Alex foes fir the Running Curb Stomp but Zayvion moves his head and sticks his knee out, causing Alex to land crotch first in an inadvertent Atomic Drop!
Simone: OH! Right in the Dragons!
Zayvion then rolls to the outside and hits the Springboard Flatliner!
Lunam: More importantly, there’s the South Central Slide from Zayvion and I think he’s going for his version of the Lyons Roar!
Zayvion goes for he Springboard Spinning DDT but Alex puts the breaks on that before reversing into a roll up!
ONE!
TWO!
ALEX GETS HIS FEET ON THE ROPES!
THREE!!!!!!!!
DING! DING! DING!
Justin: here’s your winner, the Internet Champion ALEX JONES!
Simone: He cheated to get there but Alex gets a big win heading into Blaze of Glory XV!
Lunam: That does mean that Zayvion suffers his first loss in SCW but he showed that he can hang!
Alex bails from the ring and grabs his title as Zayvion and Cleo glare at him.
”Cancel the king” keeps playing as Alex grabs the Internet championship. He walks over and grabs a microphone before making a cut the music motion with his hand. The music dies down and Alex throws the Internet championship over his shoulder.
Alex Jones: Ok, before I get to the rest of my business I’m going to do one thing I very rarely do. Zayvion… kid, I have faced a lot of young talents over my years. And I can tell you this right now I have become a pretty good gauge of how this business works and how some kids have talent and some don’t. You definitely have talent. I can see you becoming a world champion someday and I mean that.
Alex pauses for a moment as the crowd applauds the young member of the Lyons den. Alex clears his throat and looks around the arena clutching the Internet championship a little tighter.
Alex Jones: So, Miles decided on a stipulation for our championship match at blaze of Glory. And he didn’t disappoint. He chose a match that he’s going to be brutal and it’s going to test both himself and myself. You see Miles chose a last man standing match. Now, for those of you who have no idea what a last man standing match is let me give you a small idea of what it takes.
Two men enter this ring and the winner will not be decided by painful. So you can’t get a quick easy win by rolling someone up or hitting a small package. You win by either making the other person quit or by beating them so badly that they cannot answer a standing 10 count. You need to pretty much knock your opponent out and then stand tall over their broken body.
Alex pauses again letting his words sink in as he wipes his arm across his face and shakes his head with a small smile.
Lunam: Alex looks almost amused by this. This is a brutal match that Miles has chosen and Alex looks like he’s almost entertained by the thought of it
Simone: Look, love him or hate him. Alex Jones is a veteran in this business. He has seen it all and done it all and Miles Kasey seems to think this match is going to intimidate guy like Alex?
Lunam: Well no..but amusement?
Alex Jones: I’ll give you credit miles. You’ve chosen a match that I know is going to be hard. No matter what I think of you. I know that you are itching to get your hands on me and you want to beat me down until you stand above me. That’s an entire screenshot of your career, isn’t it? You’re desperate need to be seen and to be accepted. You’re desperation in trying to prove that you are better than you are. So in your fragile little mind with your fragile ego you are doing everything possible to make. It seem like you are better than me. That you are ready to crash through that glass ceiling that you’ve been bumping your head on for the last five goddamn years.
It’s going to be very hard for you to be the last man standing Miles since you spend 90% of your life on your knees.
And no, that isn’t a joke about your relationship, it’s the truth. You have been down on your knees growling and praying and just hoping to be the relevant man that you so desperately want. You want to be me so badly. You are very slowly going from a hot prospect with amazing potential to a has been. You can’t seem to get a hold on your career and become a legend. See, I’m at the end of my career. I don’t have a lot of time left. I’m not blind to this, I’m not an idiot, I know I’m not 20 years old any more and I don’t have a hell of a lot longer in front of me. But I have reached legendary status. I have reached a level that you can only dream of and instead of trying to raise yourself up to that level you are relying on me to pull you up to that level.
Alex lowest the mic cancel the king hits again and Alex holds the Internet championship up before moving to the ropes. He rolls from the ring and starts to make his way to the back looking at some of the fans..
We cut to the backstage area where we see Cassie Wolfe standing by with her manager Joshua Acquin.
Cassie: Zenna last week and now Kayla in a non title match tonight, all ahead of my title match against Alicia at Blaze of Glory XV.
Joshua: You’ve been working hard to prepare for the matches against Kayla and Alicia, you’ll be ready for them!
Cassie: I know I have Josh! And once I get past Kayla tonight I can pour my energy into the match against Alicia!
Cassie smirks as she makes a belt motion around her waist.
Cassie: And more importantly? Get that belt around the waist of someone who’s under the age of thirty!
Cassie and Josh walk off as the scene fades.
The camera cuts backstage to a messy setup.
A rolling rack.
A plastic bin dumped out and labeled “LOST & FOUND.”
And a black curtain clipped between two bright lights.
Behind it, Ryan’s silhouette shifts carefully.
Producer: (hushed) We can see you.
Ryan Keys: It’s just a shadow. I’m behind the curtain. That counts.
Pussy Willow: After offering to grab Ryan something to wear, I may have overestimated what Lost and Found actually had.
Ryan bends slightly behind the curtain.
Producer: Careful—
Ryan straightens fast.
Ryan Keys: I caught it. See? Learning.
He rummages through the bin again.
Ryan Keys: Okay… there’s a hoodie. One boot. Just one. Who loses one boot?
Pussy Willow: Keep digging.
Ryan lifts something up and pauses.
Ryan Keys: I don’t even know what this is. I’m not putting that on.
He drops it back in.
Ryan Keys: Logan’s not missing anything. Too neat. Carter would notice if half his look disappeared. Liam would’ve filed paperwork. Brandon’s stuff looks intense. This is just… leftovers.
He steps back from the bin.
Ryan Keys: There’s nothing in here I can actually wear.
Pussy Willow: Not one usable piece?
Ryan Keys: Unless we’re going with one boot and confidence.
Producer: We still see you.
Ryan exhales behind the curtain.
Ryan Keys: I know.
He plants his hands on his hips.
Ryan Keys: Alright. New plan. I stay right here until someone finds real clothes.
Pussy Willow: And until then?
Ryan shifts carefully.
Ryan Keys: Until then, this curtain is doing a lot of work.
Producer: We’re fading out.
Ryan Keys: Please do.
The camera lingers for a beat on his silhouette behind the curtain.
Fade to black.
Referee Jacob Summersn enters the ring, ready to officiate.
Justin: The following match is scheduled for one fall to a finish!
The opening riff of “Wolf Within” hits the speakers and once the lyrics kick in Cassie Wolfe emerges from the back excited to start the match, with her hands on her leather jacket’s sides the rookie wrestler turns her back to the crowd, Joshua Acquin soon joins her, applauding his charge.
Justin: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, being accompanied by Joshua Acquin, from Greenock, South Australia and now residing in Las Vegas, Nevada, “The Rebel Princess” Cassie Wolfe!
When her name is announced Cassie spins around flashing the metal horns sign with her left hand and clapping fans hands with the other, when she reaches the ring Cassie jumps onto the apron before giving her hair a full flip and removing her jacket to give to a stagehand, she then jumps over the top rope and into the ring, rolling to her knees and basking in the moment.
Simone: Cassie Wolfe has that energy that fills the room, and she is going to need every ounce of it tonight. Blaze of Glory XV is looming, and she has a scheduled shot at Alicia Lukas’ Roulette Championship. You can feel the pressure and the excitement in equal measure.
Lunam: Aye, and she looks like she thrives on it, does our Rebel Princess. Ye can see it in the way she takes in the crowd, like she’s bottlin the noise and pourin it into her veins. But she’s in there with a woman who hits like a bad decision at last call.
Justin: And her opponent!
"I will kill your dreams."
The voice of Kayla Richards gives way to the opening guitar riff of Bad Omens "Like a Villian" The lights flash from being on and bright to dark and switching between a dark purple and red. Kayla Richards steps out onto the stage in her gear, a black leather jacket over it, her long hair flowing down as she makes her way to the ring.
Justin: From Norwich, East Anglia, England! She is the reigning World Bombshell Champion! "DREAMKILLER"! KAYLA RICHARDS!!!
She runs and slides up and across the apron on one knee before getting into the ring and putting both her hands in the air, one crossed over the other to make a "K" with her fingers before they turn into a double bird and move down to a fingergun pose pointed at the crowd.
Simone: There is your World Champion, and I do not care how many times you say it, it still lands like a shockwave. Kayla Richards has climbed back to the top again, and now she has to defend that title at Blaze of Glory XV against Frankie Holliday, the same woman who ended her previous reign. That is not a defense you take lightly.
Lunam: Not a chance. Kayla’s got the gold back on her shoulder, but she’s carryin history with it too. Frankie took the crown off her head before, and Kayla’s the type to remember every second of it. Tonight, she’s lookin at Cassie like a tune-up, and that can be the most dangerous mindset in the sport.
Inside the ring, Jacob Summersn checks both competitors with quick, practiced pats of the arms and shoulders, then steps between them like a referee might step between two storms. Cassie bounces on her toes, eyes bright, jaw set, the rookie trying to look fearless even as she measures the distance to a champion who radiates contempt. Kayla rolls her shoulders and tilts her head, unimpressed, lips curling with the kind of half-smile that says she expects to break someone and still have time left on the clock.
Jacob signals to the timekeeper, then points at both women and backs away.
DING DING DING!
Cassie darts forward first, not hesitating, looking to take space before Kayla can take the match’s rhythm. She shoots for a quick arm drag, trying to use Kayla’s reach and confidence against her, but Kayla plants her feet and stuffs the attempt with brute balance, snapping Cassie down with a forearm across the upper back that bends her like a hinge. Cassie rolls through and pops up, firing a dropkick that catches Kayla high on the chest, forcing the champion to take a step back, surprised more than hurt. Cassie keeps moving, sprinting off the ropes and launching again, this time with a flying clothesline that actually knocks Kayla to a knee, and the crowd catches fire because the rookie just made the champion bow.
Simone: That is exactly what Cassie has to do. No reverence, no caution, no giving Kayla time to settle into that strong style pace. You keep the champion reacting, you keep the champion guessing.
Lunam: Kayla underestimated her, Simone. Ye can see it plain as day. She thought she’d swat a fly, and Cassie’s already stung her twice.
Kayla rises slowly, eyes narrowing, then storms forward with the first of those repeatable forearms, each one thudding into Cassie’s guard and rattling through her frame. Cassie tries to slip away, but Kayla follows with a knife edge chop that echoes, then another, then a rolling knee drop that crushes Cassie’s shoulder as she hits the mat. Cassie grimaces, clutching at her arm, and Kayla’s grin widens because she can smell weakness. She drags Cassie up by the wrist and twists, cranking the arm, then snaps a sitout jawbreaker as Cassie tries to counter with a leap, and Cassie stumbles backward, teeth rattled, hands flying to her jaw.
Kayla stalks her toward the corner, driving a boot into the midsection, then lining up and exploding with a running corner dropkick that sandwiches Cassie against the turnbuckles. Cassie folds and drops to a knee, and Kayla leans in close, saying something that the cameras cannot catch but the posture screams cruelty. Cassie shoves her away, trying to get breath back, and Kayla answers with a fast eye gouge while Jacob’s angle is blocked for a heartbeat by the turnbuckle, then Kayla steps back like nothing happened, innocent as a knife.
Jacob: Hey, keep it clean!
Lunam: Keep it clean, he says. Aye, good luck with that. Kayla Richards fights like she’s got a blacklist and Cassie’s name is on it in red ink.
Cassie shakes the sting from her eyes, blinking hard, refusing to let the champion’s shortcuts define the match. She bursts from the corner with a quick hurricanrana attempt, but Kayla stops it mid-swing, muscle and timing catching Cassie’s hips. Cassie wriggles, desperately trying to pivot into a DDT, but Kayla stomps forward and throws her down with a nasty shove that sends Cassie tumbling. Cassie hits the ropes and rebounds, using that rebound like a slingshot, springing into a crisp arm drag that finally whips Kayla to the mat clean. Cassie does not admire her work. She runs again, dropkick to the side of Kayla’s head, then a quick cover, hooking the leg tight.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Kayla kicks out with irritation, rolling to her stomach, and Cassie keeps pace, snapping a standing suplex with surprising strength for her frame, lifting the taller champion just enough to show she belongs here. The crowd rises as Cassie kips up, a flash of confidence, and she points to the ropes like she has already pictured the highlight reel. She sprints, rebounds, and nails a superkick that catches Kayla on the chin, snapping the champion’s head back and sending her into the ropes. Cassie sees her opening and bolts, launching through the middle rope with a suicide dive that wipes Kayla out on the floor, Cassie’s body turning into a missile of leather and adrenaline.
Simone: That is the risk, and that is the reward. Cassie Wolfe cannot match Kayla Richards in a slow fight, so she turns the match into a storm.
Lunam: She’s flyin like she’s got wings stitched to her back. But if Kayla catches her, even once, it can be curtains. One mistake against a striker like that, and ye start seein stars.
Cassie scrambles up first, hair wild, and yells toward Joshua Acquin, who claps and shouts instructions. Cassie grabs Kayla by the wrist and whips her into the barricade, then rolls her back into the ring, sliding in after her, intent on finishing a sequence while the champion is still disoriented. Cassie climbs to the second rope, measuring the distance, and hits a moonsault to a standing landing as Kayla staggers up, then immediately hits a snap hurricanrana that spikes Kayla’s momentum and sends her rolling. Cassie darts behind, hooks for a DDT, and plants it clean, snapping Kayla face-first into the canvas.
Cassie hooks the leg, eyes wide, sensing how close she is to the impossible.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Kayla kicks out hard, sitting up with fury, and Cassie does not retreat, instead catching her with another quick kick, then a running step to the ropes for a springboard, trying to keep the champion off rhythm. Kayla, though, is a veteran of chaos. She shoots up and catches Cassie in mid-motion with a leaping calfkick that cracks across Cassie’s ribs, then follows with martial arts kicks, sharp and efficient, each one landing like punctuation. Cassie staggers to the corner, trying to cover up, and Kayla charges with a running bulldog, driving Cassie down. Kayla rolls to her knees and throws forearms again, not even bothering to count them, just grinding the fight into a place where Cassie’s speed becomes panic.
Simone: This is the champion’s comfort zone. Kayla Richards is turning this into a fight, and fights are where rookies make mistakes.
Cassie forces herself to her feet, wobbling, then flashes her own defiance with a sudden burst, ducking a forearm and firing back with a dropkick that catches Kayla’s knee, then another that clips her chest, then a third that finally sends her backward. Cassie hits the ropes and launches into a flying clothesline again, and Kayla goes down flat this time, the crowd roaring because the rookie is still standing after the champion’s worst. Cassie grabs Kayla’s arm, yanking her up into position, then whips her off the ropes and catches her with a swinging neckbreaker, then immediately turns and signals for the corner.
Cassie climbs, steadying herself, breathing hard, then leaps into a high arcing attack and drills Kayla with The Greenest Wizard, the shining wizard knee strike that catches Kayla flush and folds her like she got hit by a truck. Cassie collapses into the cover, hooking both legs, shoulders pressed, every ounce of her weight committed.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
The kickout is violent, but it is late, and the building reacts like it just witnessed a near miracle. Cassie sits up, hands on her head, disbelief crashing into determination. Joshua slaps the apron, shouting to stay on her, and Cassie nods, eyes narrowing, recalculating. Kayla rolls to her side, shaking her head as if trying to clear a fog, and her expression shifts from smug to sharp, from dismissive to dangerous.
Lunam: Holy Saints above, that was it. That was nearly the upset, and ye could see Kayla’s soul leave her body for a second. Cassie Wolfe just proved she’s not here for the autograph.
Simone: That was a championship-level near fall. Cassie is going to Blaze of Glory XV with a title match, and if Alicia Lukas is watching, she has to be taking notes, because Cassie is showing she can create offense out of nowhere.
Cassie rises and backs into the corner again, pointing up, a signal the crowd recognizes now. She climbs to the top rope, balancing, arms spread for a moment like she’s claiming the air above the ring. Air Aussie is on her mind, the 450 splash she’s made her signature. Cassie steadies, then launches, twisting beautifully through the air, body rotating in a clean, controlled arc.
Kayla brings her knees up.
Cassie crashes down stomach-first on bone and steel-like core strength, the impact folding her in half and driving a gasp from the crowd. Cassie rolls off clutching her ribs, face contorted, and Kayla does not waste a second. She pops up like a predator that just got its trap sprung, runs the ropes once, and comes back with Dreamkiller, the V-Trigger knee strike blasting into Cassie’s head and jaw, snapping her sideways and sending her limp to the canvas.
Justin: Dreamkiller!
Kayla hooks the leg, pressing her forearm across Cassie’s face, making the pin feel less like a cover and more like a statement.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING DING DING!
Justin: Here is your winner, Dreamkiller Kayla Richards!
Kayla releases the pin and rises with a hard exhale, rolling her shoulders as if she just finished a warmup, though the look in her eyes betrays the truth. It was closer than she wanted. Cassie lies on her back, one arm across her ribs, blinking up at the lights, stunned and hurting but not broken. Joshua slides in to check her, speaking fast and supportive, and Cassie nods faintly, refusing to look like she regrets the risk.
Simone: Kayla Richards wins, but do not let that ending fool you. Cassie Wolfe pushed the World Champion to the edge and had her beat for a fraction of a second. That Greenest Wizard almost changed everything.
Lunam: Aye, Cassie was a breath away from toppin the mountain. But Kayla’s the champion for a reason, she turned one mistake into a finish faster than ye can blink. That’s what Frankie Holliday has to remember at Blaze of Glory XV, Kayla can end ye in an instant.
Simone: And Cassie has to remember it too. Air Aussie is spectacular, but tonight she learned what happens when you miss against someone who specializes in punishment. Still, heading into her Roulette Championship match with Alicia Lukas at Blaze of Glory XV, she is walking in with momentum in a different way. Not a win, but proof. Proof she can hang with the very best.
Lunam: If I’m Alicia, I’m watchin that near fall again and again, because Cassie’s not just brave, she’s clever. And if I’m Frankie, I’m smilin, because Kayla had to show her hand a bit tonight. Dreamkiller puts folk down, but it took a whole lot of fight to get Cassie there. Blaze of Glory XV is goin to be a proper war.
Camera opens in the backstage interview area. Ms. Rocky Mountains stands ready with a microphone in hand, smiling into the camera as the crowd buzz can be faintly heard beyond the curtain.
Ms. Rocky Mountains: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my guest at this time — SCW Hall of Famer, Mercedes Vargas. Mercedes, later tonight you team with the Metal Maniacs to face fellow Hall of Famer Crystal Zdunich, her wife Seleana, and her sister-in-law Zenna. And of course, in just a few weeks, you’ll be facing Crystal one-on-one in a Japanese Death Match at Blaze of Glory XV. How are you feeling heading into what could be one of the most brutal stretches of your career?
Camera pans slightly as Mercedes steps into frame, calm but commanding, a glint of controlled confidence in her eyes. She folds her arms, a slight smirk tracing her lips before she begins speaking with quiet conviction.
Mercedes: How do I feel, Rocky? Calm. Focused. Because chaos doesn’t faze me — I thrive in it. See, Crystal Zdunich keeps chasing moments that make her feel important again. Every new project, every rebranding, every big speech about “rising above.” It’s predictable. The more she talks about how much she’s grown... the more she proves she hasn’t.
Mercedes lowers the microphone slightly, glancing off to the side for a moment as a knowing grin crosses her face before looking back at Rocky with a spark in her eye.
Mercedes: And now, she’s dragged her family into it. Zenna and Seleana — talented, sure. But loyalty doesn’t win matches; strategy does. Tonight, they’re not walking into a family reunion... they’re walking into a war zone. The Metal Maniacs have zero conscience, and that’s why they’re my partners. They don’t care about pride or reputation — they care about results, and that’s exactly why I handpicked them. Or maybe they picked me.
Ms. Rocky Mountains nods slightly as Mercedes’ tone shifts from measured control to a sharpened, dangerous edge.
Mercedes: You hear that? That’s the sound of inevitability. That’s the sound of history repeating itself. Because no matter how many times Crystal Zdunich reinvents herself — actress, singer, model, *wannabe legend* — she always finds a way to end up on the wrong side of me. And now, she’s got her family along for the ride.
Mercedes lets the words hang in the air for a moment, the smirk fading into something harder and colder as she slowly steps closer to the camera, her confidence sharpening into challenge.
Mercedes: Zenna. Seleana. You two are so desperate to play heroes, but tonight, you’re stepping into the deep end with sharks who *don’t* play nice. Iron Maiden. Twisted Sister. The Metal Maniacs aren’t coming to wrestle — they’re coming to hurt people. And, for one night only, I’m right there with them.
She tilts her head slightly, her tone dropping to a cold, deliberate whisper.
Mercedes: You see, tonight isn’t about friendship or family. It’s about momentum. Because in just a few short weeks at Blaze of Glory XV, Crystal and I are walking into something no SCW Bombshell has survived unchanged — a Japanese Death Match. Barbed wire. Glass. Blood. Pain. All of it waiting for you, Crystal. Every scar will be a reminder that you picked this fight with me.
She straightens her ring gear and looks dead into the camera.
Mercedes: Tonight, I’m not here to win — I’m here to send a message. So when those Zdunich women limp away from that ring wondering what hit them, I want Crystal to remember this: Blaze of Glory isn’t going to be our next chapter... it’s going to be your final one.
Mercedes smirks again, steps past the interviewer, and the camera lingers on the fire in her eyes before fading to black.
The scene opens backstage at Climax Control where we see the SCW Roulette Champion Logan Hunter standing by, as always, with the beautiful but deadly Shields Sisters! Brooke is at the front, her dyed red hair worn loose and wearing all leather while Marissa has her natural brown hair in a ponytail and is dressed more casually.
Brooke: The party has gone on long enough! At Blaze of Glory the Life of the Party Ryan Kays will fall in his attempt to take Logan’s Roulette Title!
Marissa: And we can’t forget about the Fatal Four Way between Brayden, Zayvion……………..
Brooke: What kind of name is Zayvion?!
Marissa shrugs.
Marissa: Bill and Ciaran to decide Logan’s next challenger.
Logan: It matters not who challenges me! I am destined to reign eternal!
The sisters turn to Logan as he speaks up.
Logan: And in tonight’s Main Event when I take on HB Carter in a Clash of the Champions Match? I will prove once and for all why I am destined to reign.
Brooke: And if anyone thingks they can stop me from doing my job as manager? PUH-LEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I will do everything in my power to help Logan win.
Marissa: Everything but flash your boobs at Carter.
Brooke: Duh! He doesn’t even swing that way!
Marissa: I was talking about the legal reasons but that too!
Logan: CARTER! I’LL SEE YOU IN THE RING TONIGHT! And Ryan? Your execution date is set! As for the four fools fighting for a shot at me? I’ll be watching!
The trio walks off as the scene fades.
Simone: Welcome back to Climax Control and this next match promises to be a chaotic mess! Crystal Hilton will face Mercedes Vargas in a Japanese Death Match at Blaze of Glory XV while Seleana and Zenna Zdunich will team up to face the demented Metal Maniacs in tag team action and the the powers that be decided it’ll be a great idea to stick all six women in a Six Bombshell Tag Team Match as a preview for those two matches!
Lunam: The feud between Crystal and Mercedes has been heating up over the past few weeks while the Zdunichs watch on and with the Metal Maniacs in the fray? Anything can happen!
Simone: Let’s take it to Justin!
Justin: The following is a Six Bombshell Tag Team Match, scheduled for one fall!
The arena fades to black and as it does we are treated to an old school vintage black and white Hollywood movie countdown.
5
4
3
2
1
As soon as it hits zero that’s the moment that two spotlights land on the curtain and we can see a red carpet being rolled to the ring and at the same time Mo Money Mo Problems by Notorious BIG begins to blast across the speakers.
A gathering of paparazzi stand in front of the curtains and they begin to snap photo after photo as they wait in anticipation for the star to come through the curtains. It isn’t that long until we see Crystal Caldwell along with her partners the Zdunichs walking through the curtain. She walks to the side of the apron before she throws a pose and jumps landing in a perfect split to enter into the ring. Vargas smirks as he claps for her friend as she screams at the audience.
Justin: Introducing team #1! Crystal Zdunich and Seleana and Zenna Zdunich!
The three women make their way into the ring and wait for their opponents.
Simone: All three women look ready to go.
Lunam: To say the least.
Justin: And their opponents!
Suddenly, the arena lights turn off and the crowd is hyped up for what was in store. As the opening of "Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me" by U2 blares across the PA system, the mood of the crowd changes instantly and the arena is under the subtle glowing of the lights. As the lyrics finally kick in, a figure emerges; the highlight of their attire is being under the illusion. Mercedes Vargas stops short of the entrance ramp, hands on waist, and overlooking the crowd.
Justin: Making her way to the ring, from Buenos Aires, Argentina, weighing in at 125 pounds, MERCEEEEEDEEEES VAAAARGAAAAS!
Cheers, boos and catcalls soon greet her. Oblivious and yet satisfied with their reaction for several seconds, she flips her long hair, then makes her way to the ring. However Mercecedes doesn’t enter the ring right away, instead waiting for her partners.
Simone: Mercedes is in no hurry to get in the ring!
Lunam: Given the animosity between her and the Zdunichs can you blame them?
Justin: And her partners!
Hollywood Undead's "Day Of The Dead" begins to play and the crowd hushes as they turn their attention towards the stage. The curtains fly open and the first to appear is Doctor Kraven Moorehead, escorting none other than Anthrax who is riding a child's tricycle!? And HE is pulling behind him, riding in a little red wagon, the violently psychotic tandem of the Iron Maiden and Twisted Sister, known collectively as Heavy Metal Mania.
Justin: Introducing from the Asylum! Accompanied by Doctor Kraven Moorehead and Anthrax, at a combined weight of two hundred and eighty one pounds, Twisted Sister and Iron Maiden , Heavy Metal Mania!
The fans stare with wide eyed awe at these lunatics as they arrive at ringside. The two women shriek at the top of their lungs and laugh as they are herded by the 'good doctor' from their ride and towards the ring. The women screech and lunge at the fans, causing the crowd to jump back, before the finally roll into the ring. Twisted Sister and Iron Maiden run around the ring, hitting the ropes and the corner, screaming and laughing until the Doctor escorts them to the corner and Anthrax flops onto his chest and stomach, chin on his curled fingers while he kicks his legs idly and watches for the opposition, Mercedes enters the ring after the demented duo as Crystal stares her down.
Simone: I wonder what’s going through Mercedes’s mind right now?
Lunam: My guess? “What did I do to Christian to deserve but put up with the Metal Maniacs?!”!
Drew goes to go over the rules with both teams but doesn’t even get a word in before they all start brawling! Kraven and Anthrax barely have time to leave the ring as Drew calls for the bell.
Simone: Anyone who says that they didn’t see this coming is either naive or lying!
Lunam: Why not both?
DING DING DING!
Once the bell rings Drew’s first order of business is to try to gain some semblance of order, keyword being try because neither of the six women are interested in anything he has to say, least of all Crystal and Mercedes who made a beeline for each other as soon as the chaos started while Seleana trades blows with Twisted Sister and Zenna does likewise with Iron Maiden, eventually? The Zdunichs and Crystal send their dance partners out of the ring with simultaneous dropkicks, forcing Mercedes and the Maniacs to reconvene at the top of the ramp.
Simone: I think Mercedes is trying to talk strategy with the Maniacs.
Lunam: If that’s true than GOOD LUCK! Especially with Crystal and the Zdunichs getting ready to fly!
Indeed, Mercedes is trying to get anything out of her partners but not only is it not having any effect but she is visibly aging in real time! Fortunately for Mercedes (if you can call it that) their “strategy meeting” is cut short when Crystal and the Zdunnichs come flying over the top rope with simultaneous dives that wipe out all three women! Crystal, Zenna and Seleana pose for the crowd but take to long as Mercedes and the Maniacs get back to their feet and pounce! Mercedes throws Crystal into the crowd while Twisted Sister takes down Zenna with a DDT and Iron Maiden does likewise with a clothesline on Seleana! Mercedes and the Maniacs stomp away at Seleana before throwing her into the ring where Iron Maiden follows her in and goes for the first pin of the match!
ONE!
TWO!
And Seleana kicks out!
Simone: Shockingly, it seems like order has been restored, all thanks to Mercedes and the Maniacs attacking Crystal and the Zdunichs while they posed!
Lunam: Am I the only one wo thinks “Mercedes and the Maniacs” sounds like a great name for a rock band?
Iron Maiden responds to the near fall in the only way the Maniacs know how to, namely by screaming at Drew who is clearly questioning his life choices before Iron Maiden throws Seleana into her team’s corner and tags in Twisted Sister and the Metal Maniacs take turns stomping away at Seleana! Mercedes cheers them on as Seleana’s parts makes their way onto the apron and the Maniacs respond by screaming at Mercedes.
Twisted Sister throws Seleana to the mat before going for a pin!
ONE!
TWO!
And Zenna breaks it up!
Simone: I think this is the exact moment that Mercedes is starting to regret every choice that led to this moment!
Lunam: Or one for the days when she teamed with the Mean Girls!
Almost immediately Iron Maiden re-enters the ring to try to brawl with Zenna but Zenna responds by throwing Iron Maiden over the top rope almost as quickly as she gets in the ring! Mercedes gets in the ring and in Zenna’s face but Zenna gets her up for a Military Press before launching the veteran Bombshell at Twisted Sister! Iron Maiden isn’t happy about this but doesn’t get a scream in before Seleana surprises her with a School Girl roll up!
ONE!
TWO!
And Iron Maiden kicks out!
Simone: Things almost broke down there until Zenna yeeted Mercedes onto Twisted Sister!
Lunam: And Seleana nearly stole the win too!
Drew forces Zenna to return to her corner but Mercedes, who has recovered from being launched into Twisted Sister at this point, takes advantage of the distraction by getting in the ring and hitting Seleana with her Beat Still My Heart Superkick! Mercedes then returns to her corner and signals for Iron Maiden to tag her in once Drew her turned around but Iron Maiden clearly wants to inflict more damage! The maniac relents and tags in Mercedes who goes for a pin!
ONE!
TWO!
And Crystal breaks it up!
Simone: Mercedes almost had it with that Superkick but trying to negotiate with Iron Maiden cost her!
Lunam: To be fair I don’t think a UN Peacekeeper could negotiate with either Metal Maniac!
The inevitable shouting match between Mercedes and Crystal occurs with neither noticing that Seleana is using the distraction to crawl to her corner and try to tag in Zenna!
Mercedes realizes too late that Zenna is about to be tagged in and, seeing that Twisted Sister is back on the apron, immediately tags her in before bailing from the ring as Seleana gets the tag! Both Metal Maniacs charge but Zenna flips them inside out with a Double Clothesline before knocking Mercedes off the apron! Mercedes gets to her feet but gets hit by a Springboard Crossbody by Crystal while Zenna goes for a pin on Twisted Sister!
ONE!
TWO!
And Iron Maiden breaks it up!
Simone: The powerhouse of Team Zdunich is now the legal woman!
Lunam: And that’s bad news for Mercedes and the Maniacs!
Iron Maiden screams at Zenna as the taller woman gets back to her feet but Zenna responds by clotheslining Iron Maiden out of the ring! Meanwhile Mercedes and Crystal are back on the apron and Crystal calls for a tag from Zenna which she complies before hoisting Twisted Sister up for a Powerbomb as Crystal climbs the top rope! Crystal then hits a Missile Dropkick as Zenna drops Twisted Sister for the Powerbomb and goes for a pin!
ONE!
TWO!
And Twisted Sister kicks out!
Crystal picks up Twister sister but the latter rakes Crystal’s eyes before backing up near to where Mercedes is standing, allowing Mercedes to get a blind tag!
Simone: Mercedes just blind tagged herself in!
Lunam: But she’s in no hurry to get in the ring!
Crystal meanwhile surprises Twisted Sister with the That’s A Wrap Hammerlock DDT but there’s one problem: Drew saw Mercedes’s tag and doesn’t count the pin! Crystal doesn’t even get to argue with Drew before Mercedes sneaks in and nails the Black Rose Overdrive Burnijng Hammer!
Simone: BLACK ROSE OVERDRIVE! IT’S OVER!
Lunam: Stick a ffork in Crystal, she’s done!
Zenna tries to intervene but gets Superkicked by Mercedes for her troubles, Seleana then tries but Iron Maiden holds her back as Mercedes goes for a pin!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
DING! DING! DING!
Justin: HERE ARE YOUR WINNERS, MERCEDES VARGAS AND THE METAL MANIACS!
Simone: Mercedes steals one after spending most of the match on the apron!
Lunam: To be fair I think she’s just glad to be done but more importantly? She has momentum for Blaze of Glory!
Mercedes and the Maniacs celebrate while Drew and Seleana check on Crystal and Zenna.
The broadcast cuts back to the arena, the lights washing over a buzzing crowd as the camera sweeps past signs and cheering fans before settling on the ring. Justin Decent stands mid-ring in a sharp suit, microphone in hand, soaking in the energy like he’s about to introduce the main event of the universe.
Justin: Ladies and gentlemen, once again, please welcome… Miss Amanda Hugginkiss!
The reaction is immediate, a loud swell of cheers and whistles rolling through the building as the spotlight snaps to the entrance. A beat of anticipation, and then Amanda Hugginkiss steps onto the stage to a roar, striking a pose like she just arrived from a fashion show hosted on another planet. Tonight she’s sporting an all-new outfit that is equal parts glamorous and completely unhinged: a neon-pink feathered cape that trails behind her like a parade float, a gold-sequined corset with oversized rhinestone lips across the front, and a towering beehive wig studded with tiny glittering microphones that blink in time with the lights. Around her waist is a hoop skirt made of shimmering metallic streamers that swish like tinsel with every step, and her knee-high boots are a wild electric-blue with exaggerated platform soles shaped like miniature disco balls. She waves to the crowd with a grin, turning just enough for the cape to flare dramatically as the camera catches the sparkle from every angle.
The music begins. Amanda raises a hand for quiet, then leans into the mic with a grin as the crowd settles in, ready for whatever comes next.
Amanda: Ladies, gentlemen, and anyone who has ever wrestled with double-sided tape in a public restroom, make some noise.
Tonight’s anthem is dedicated to gravity, humidity, and stairs.
Mostly stairs.
I wake up cute, I wake up blessed, I wake up ready to impress,
But there is one small detail that can put my life in duress.
I’m in the mirror, I’m a winner, I’m a fantasy in lace,
Till my body starts a group chat like, “Girl, not in this place.”
I’ve got tape in my purse like it’s currency and clout,
If you hear a little rip, no you did not hear that sound.
I’m serving face, I’m serving legs, I’m serving full couture,
But my downstairs is in negotiations, trying to start a civil war.
It’s a delicate arrangement, it’s a science and an art,
It’s like origami, but the paper has a heartbeat and a part.
I’m calm, I’m cool, I’m collected, I’m a goddess in the light,
But I’m also one bad step away from seeing Jesus in the night.
Tuck, tuck, baby, tuck, tuck, tuck,
Tape so tight I’m speaking in a higher octave, what.
It’s hot, it’s sticky, it’s a full-contact sport,
But I’m walking like a lady, yes, I’m walking like I’m court.
Tuck, tuck, baby, hold that luck,
If the wind hits wrong, that’s a wardrobe truck.
I’m sweating, I’m praying, I’m strutting through the pain,
Keeping dignity intact while my pelvis screams my name.
I hit the club, I hit the floor, I hit a pose, I hit a stare,
Somebody yells, “You better work,” and I whisper, “I’m aware.”
But then the heat arrives, like, “Hello, it’s me, your foe,”
I’ve got a mini sauna happening underneath my show.
My best friend says, “You look amazing,” and I’m like, “Thank you, dear,”
While my body quietly responds with, “Get me out of here.”
I’m dancing to the beat, I’m looking sweet, I’m spinning fast,
But this tape is holding grudges from relationships long past.
It’s a delicate arrangement, it’s a fragile little truce,
One wrong move and suddenly it’s headline breaking news.
I’m calm, I’m cool, I’m collected, I’m a queen with perfect poise,
But down below it’s a percussion section making anxious little noise.
Tuck, tuck, baby, tuck, tuck, tuck,
Tape so tight I’m speaking in a higher octave, what.
It’s hot, it’s sticky, it’s a full-contact sport,
But I’m walking like a lady, yes, I’m walking like I’m court.
Tuck, tuck, baby, hold that luck,
If the wind hits wrong, that’s a wardrobe truck.
I’m sweating, I’m praying, I’m strutting through the pain,
Keeping dignity intact while my pelvis screams my name.
Now let’s talk about the enemy of elegance.
Stairs.
One step, two step, I’m still divine,
Three step, four step, I’m questioning my spine.
Five step, six step, I’m gripping the rail,
Seven step, eight step, I’m writing my will.
And the worst part is the face has to stay serene,
Like “I am unbothered,” while my body’s turning green.
When I say “stairs,” you say “no!”
Stairs! (No!)
Stairs! (No!)
Stairs! (No!)
I’m climbing like a champion in heels from outer space,
With the posture of a duchess and a panic in my base.
If you see me take a breather, mind your business, bless your heart,
I’m not tired, I’m just keeping all my parts from falling apart.
Tuck, tuck, baby, tuck, tuck, tuck, (hold, hold!)
Tape so tight I’m speaking in a higher octave, what. (Woo!)
It’s hot, it’s sticky, it’s a full-contact sport, (tell ‘em!)
But I’m walking like a lady, yes, I’m walking like I’m court. (Gavel!)
Tuck, tuck, baby, hold that luck, (pray!)
If the wind hits wrong, that’s a wardrobe truck. (Not today!)
I’m sweating, I’m praying, I’m strutting through the pain,
Keeping dignity intact while my pelvis screams my name.
And if you learned anything tonight, it’s this: beauty is pain, glamour is war, and stairs are homophobic.
Thank you, tip your queens, and if you see me sitting down, no you did not.
The crowd inside of the arena cheers and applauds as Amanda blows kisses and curtsies, letting the neon-pink feathered cape flutter behind her. She waves one last time, then turns and ducks backstage behind the curtains, the music fading as the camera lingers on the applauding fans.
The concourse area just outside gorilla position has been converted into a pop-up “Champion’s Merch Station.” A folding table is draped in a black cloth with purple and gold trim. The World Heavyweight Championship sits on a small stand like a museum piece, angled perfectly toward the camera. Handwritten signs are taped to the front:
CHAMP’S RECOMMENDED: Helluva Bottom Carter, Miles Kasey, Alexandra Calaway
CLEARANCE (NO REFUNDS): Logan Hunter, Alexander Raven
A small line of fans waits behind a stanchion. Carter stands behind the table with a Sharpie, a receipt pad, and the calm confidence of a man who believes he is improving the economy.
HBCarter: Alright, alright, bring it in. Welcome to the Champion’s Merch Station. Smiles are free. Autographs are free. Photos are free. Good taste is not free, so I’m here to help.
Fan #1: Oh my god, Carter. Can you sign my poster?
Carter takes the poster with exaggerated care, squints like he’s assessing fine art, then pops the cap off the Sharpie with his teeth. The camera catches the belt gleaming on its stand as he positions the poster perfectly on the table.
HBCarter: Absolutely. Hold it steady. If I sign it crooked, it becomes modern art and I’m charging you extra.
Fan #1: Thank you!
He signs with a flourish and slides it back with a proud nod, like he’s just completed a historic document.
HBCarter: There we go. That’s a collector’s item now. Protect it with your life and a proper frame.
Fan #2: Can I get a picture with the belt?
Carter lightly rotates the championship on its stand, angling it for maximum shine. He steps aside like a museum docent presenting a priceless artifact.
Fan #2: I won’t breathe.
Carter nods approvingly and holds up two fingers to count down for the photo, watching the phone camera like he’s directing a commercial.
HBCarter: Smart. Alright, three, two, one. Perfect. You look like a future champion. Or at minimum, someone who pays their bills on time.
Fan #3: I want a shirt. The Logan Hunter one.
Carter’s hand moves fast and smooth. With a subtle slide, the Logan Hunter shirt disappears behind a stack of Carter tees. In the same motion, he presents an HBCarter shirt front-and-center like it was always the obvious choice.
HBCarter: You want a shirt. I respect that. But let’s make responsible choices. This one right here is breathable, durable, championship-grade cotton.
Fan #3: I said the Logan one.
HBCarter: And I heard you. Loud and clear. What I’m doing is protecting you from buyer’s remorse. You wear this one, you walk taller. You wear that one, you learn important life lessons in public.
Fan #3: It’s my money.
HBCarter: And I am your guardian angel of good spending. Now, if you want to support a GO Gym graduate, I have excellent news for you.
Fan #4: Wait, you’re GO Gym too?
HBCarter: Yes. And so is Logan. Which is exactly why you should buy the champion’s shirt. You get the GO Gym pedigree and the World Heavyweight Champion’s face. That’s value.
Fan #5: Do you have Alexander Raven merch?
Carter glances toward the tiny pile beneath the CLEARANCE (NO REFUNDS) sign. He calmly produces a roll of bright “SOLD OUT” stickers from under the table like a magician revealing a prop, peels one off, and slaps it onto a Raven item with total seriousness.
HBCarter: Sold out.
Fan #5: But it’s right there.
HBCarter: And now it is a memory. Opportunities vanish fast when you make questionable decisions.
Fan #2: That’s not how sold out works.
HBCarter: It is when I’m running the table. I’m an independent contractor of truth.
Fan #1: What about Miles Kasey?
Carter’s posture brightens immediately. He reaches beneath the table and lifts a Miles Kasey hoodie as if he’s unveiling a championship banner.
HBCarter: Now we’re talking. Miles Kasey hoodie. This gives you plus ten agility and the ability to dodge bad opinions. Put it on and you immediately stop walking into bad situations.
Fan #1: Does it really?
HBCarter: Spiritually, yes. Physically, it’s still on you.
Fan #3: What about Alexandra Calaway?
Carter slides a neat stack of Alexandra Calaway shirts forward, taps the top one twice like it’s a stock tip, and points at the CHAMP’S RECOMMENDED sign.
HBCarter: Future headline. If you don’t buy her merch now, you’re going to be lying later saying you were here from day one. I’m saving you from your own future dishonesty.
Fan #4: Do you have a bundle deal?
Carter flips open his receipt pad and clicks a pen like a cashier about to ring up the biggest sale of the night.
HBCarter: Oh, you are my favorite kind of person. Yes. I have the Winners’ Bundle. Carter tee, Miles hoodie, Alexandra Calaway signed 8x10. You walk away looking like you understand wrestling.
Fan #4: How much?
HBCarter: Less than the emotional cost of believing in Logan Hunter.
Fan #2: That’s kind of mean.
HBCarter: It’s kind of accurate.
Fan #5: Can you sign my Carter shirt?
Carter takes the shirt, spreads it flat, and signs it cleanly. He hands it back, then taps the belt twice like it’s sacred before looking up as a familiar voice cuts in from off-camera.
Pussy Willow: Helluva Bottom Carter, conducting a meet and greet and running a merch table minutes before your match. Are you always this dedicated to fan engagement?
HBCarter: Dedicated is a strong word. I prefer visionary. I’m building the economy. I’m encouraging good decisions. I’m a public servant.
Pussy Willow: You’re also steering people away from Logan Hunter and Alexander Raven merchandise.
HBCarter: Steering is also a strong word. I’m providing guidance. Some people need a champion in the ring. Some people need a champion at the cash register.
Fan #3: He wouldn’t let me buy the Logan shirt.
HBCarter: I prevented a tragedy. You’re welcome.
Pussy Willow: Speaking of Logan Hunter, your match tonight is against a fellow GO Gym graduate. Is that playing on your mind?
HBCarter: It would be irresponsible if it wasn’t. It won’t be easy going up against someone who had the same trainers that I did because that means we both know what the other is capable of. The GO Gym puts out the best in the sport and that means tonight’s match against Logan Hunter won’t be easy.
Pussy Willow: That almost sounded respectful.
HBCarter: It is respectful. The GO Gym doesn’t hand out reputations. You earn them. Logan earned his. I earned mine and mine comes with a title.
Pussy Willow: What about Alexander Raven?
HBCarter: That is a boil on the butt to deal with another day. I’m focused on Logan tonight.
Pussy Willow: And Brooke at ringside. What’s your backup plan for dealing with her?
Carter’s smile widens. Instead of answering, he snatches a rolled-up Carter towel from the merch pile and gently lobs it over the stanchion into the crowd like a T-shirt cannon on a budget.
HBCarter: Heads up.
Fan #2: Oh! I got it!
HBCarter: Congratulations. You just received the best backup plan there is. Distraction. Momentum. Crowd energy. Also, that towel is high quality.
Pussy Willow: That wasn’t an answer.
HBCarter: It was a reminder. I don’t panic over ringside variables. I adapt. Champions adapt.
Pussy Willow: One more thing. Alex Jones has been vocal lately. He said Climax Control is becoming the Carter and Miles Show. Any response?
HBCarter: I try not to bother with people who never make public appearances outside of their own matches.
Pussy Willow: Alex did grant an interview tonight. Right after his match.
Carter’s expression drains to blank in an instant. The fans behind him hush, sensing something dangerous and hilarious at the same time. Carter slowly turns his head toward the camera, dead-eyed.
HBCarter: Well son of a bi-
The segment smash-cuts to black before the expletive can land.
Senior referee Jasmine St. John enters the ring to polite applause to officiate.
Simone: A respectful reception for Jasmine St. John, and you know why. When a match is this big, you want the steadier hands in the stripes.
Lunam: Aye, and she willnae be bullied, willnae be charmed, and willnae be bought. That’s the kind of referee ye need when the stakes are this high, Simone.
Justin: Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Main Event of the evening! It is the Clash of the Champions match, scheduled for one fall to a finish!
Simone: Two champions, two very different philosophies, and one ring that’s about to get a lot smaller.
Lunam: Logan Hunter has the swagger of a man who thinks the rules are suggestions, and Helluva Bottom Carter has that radiant confidence of a champion who believes he can out-wrestle anythin that breathes. That’s a volatile mix, so it is.
"Hope Castrated" by Cage Fight hits the speakers and as soon as the opening scream is heard Logan emerges from the back, Brooke and Marissa follow him out and the sisters have their backs to the crowd while they dance to the song, Brooke does some sensual dances while Marissa shows off dance skills while Logan glares at the ring.
Justin: From Sydney, Australia and representing the Go Gym, being accompanied by Brooke and Marissa Shields! He is the SCW Roulette Champion! LOGAN HUNTER!
As soon as Logan's name is called the twins spin around and the trio start making their way to the ring, Logan gets a running start before hopping on the apron and holding the middle rope down for Brooke as she enters the ring before he follows her in, Marissa follows them in on her own and they meet in the middle of the ring and while Logan remains standing broke drops to one knee and stretches her arms out with her head bowed while Marissa spins and arches her back, giving the crowd (and camera) a nice view of her cleavage before she flips her dark brown and looks at the camera.
Simone: Logan Hunter soaking in the spotlight like he owns the building, but the truth is he’s got another appointment on the horizon. Blaze of Glory XV. Ryan Keys. And that defense is going to be nasty.
Lunam: Ryan Keys is the kind of challenger that disnae let ye dance around the hard parts, Simone. Keys will drag him into the deep water and ask if he can still breathe when the shortcuts are taken away.
Simone: But that’s the thing, Erik. Logan doesn’t think he needs oxygen. He thinks he can live off arrogance alone.
Lunam: Aye, and arrogance is a fine cologne until ye start sweatin.
Inside the ring, Logan paces with an impatient spring in his step, rolling his shoulders, measuring the distance to Carter’s corner like he’s already plotting where to leave bruises. Brooke stays close enough to whisper, close enough to tug a sleeve, close enough to tip the scale the moment Jasmine’s head turns. Marissa posts up with that smug grin, eyeing the hard camera as if she’s scouting which angle will capture the best version of Logan Hunter, the one that never loses and never looks rattled.
Justin: And his opponent!
The dancing techno beat of Lady Gaga's LGBTQ anthem, "Born This Way" kicks up over the sound system. The crowd turns to the stage where Helluva Bottom Carter dances out onto the stage amidst the cheers of the SCW Universe! Clad in his favorite Ostrich jacket and sparkling lavender shades over his eyes, Carter bows and sweeps at the waist, blowing a kiss.
Justin: From Seattle, Washington, weighing one hundred and seventy six pounds, he is the World Heavyweight Champion! Helluva Bottom Carter!
Carter stops at the end of the aisle between the entrance and the ring, staring inside at Logan and Brooke, both who taunt Carter visibly. Carter smiles and looks back toward the entrance and waves.
Simone: What is he doing? Carter doesn’t usually bring extra bodies unless he expects nonsense.
Lunam: He’s read the room, lass. He knows Brooke Shields is a weapon, and he’s brought a shield-breaker.
The crowd noise swells into a delighted roar as a towering silhouette appears at the top of the stage, and the reaction is immediate, loud, and unmistakably positive. Fans leap to their feet, pointing and cheering as none other than former Bombshell and GO Gym graduate Tempest steps out onto the stage, built like an amazon with the kind of presence that makes the whole entranceway feel narrower. She pauses for a beat, letting the moment breathe, then takes a slow step forward with calm confidence, eyes locked toward the ring like she already knows exactly who she’s there for.
Simone: Wait a second, listen to this place! That’s Tempest! Tempest is here!
Lunam: Ohhh, would ye look at that now, Simone. That’s no just backup, that’s a feckin mountain walkin down the ramp.
Simone: Carter didn’t come alone after all. THIS is his backup plan for Brooke Shields!
Lunam: Aye, and Brooke’s games just got very, very expensive. Tempest is an amazon, six foot three, two hundred plus, and she’s the kind of woman who can end a conversation with one hand.
Simone: Brooke has been used to having free rein at ringside, but with Tempest out here? Carter just neutralized the biggest variable in this match.
Lunam: Carter’s tellin the world, I see your tricks, I planned for your tricks, and I brought the only answer ye cannae flirt, cheat, or scheme yer way around.
Brooke’s face drains of color as if someone just killed the music inside her skull. Her confidence falters, and for the first time she’s not performing for the crowd, she’s reacting to the memory of something painful. Logan grabs her forearms, muttering in her ear, trying to steady her, while Marissa steps in and speaks quickly, hands fluttering like she can talk the fear back into its cage. But Brooke’s stare is locked down the aisle, wide-eyed and rigid, because Tempest isn’t walking out like a sideshow. Tempest is walking out like a correction.
Simone: Tempest at ringside changes the geometry of this match. Brooke can’t just wander where she wants now.
Lunam: Aye, and Logan Hunter’s wee chessboard just got a new piece, and it’s a feckin queen.
Carter hops up onto the ring apron in a split and slides beneath the bottom rope. He crawls seductively on all fours until he arrives in his corner. He pulls himself up and removes his shades and jacket, passing them out to the ringside attendant before laying across the top corner.
Simone: Carter came prepared. Tempest to counter Brooke Shields. And that tells you Carter’s thinking ahead, because Blaze of Glory XV isn’t just Logan’s world. Carter’s got Alexander Raven waiting for him in a rematch.
Lunam: Raven is a man who studies ye like a map, then burns the roads behind ye. Carter bringing Tempest is him sayin, I willnae be outnumbered tonight, I willnae be distracted tonight, and I willnae limp into Fort Worth for Raven’s amusement.
Simone: Jasmine St. John’s got her eyes on everybody. Carter’s up like a cat on a fence, Logan’s bouncing like he’s ready to sprint. This is going to be fast, and it’s going to get ugly.
Jasmine steps to the center, checks both corners with that calm authority, and raises the championship-laden air with a single look that says this is her ring now. She signals to the timekeeper, the crowd rises in anticipation, and the two champions drift forward like magnets turning, searching for the angle that hurts the most.
DING DING DING!
Logan doesn’t wait. He shoots in with a sharp, technical collar-and-elbow, but it’s a feint, an attempt to lure Carter into a predictable chain. Carter reads it, slips his hips, and turns the tie-up into wrist control, grinding Logan’s knuckles down and forcing the Roulette Champion to bend at the waist. Logan’s face twists, not from pain alone, but from offense, because being controlled is an insult to him. He rolls through, flips to alleviate the pressure, and tries to snake behind Carter for a quick waistlock. Carter widens his base, keeps his balance, and snaps Logan forward with a crisp arm drag that sends Hunter sliding across the canvas.
Simone: That is champion poise. Carter’s not showing off, he’s establishing control.
Lunam: Logan tried to be clever. Carter said, aye, I’m clever too, only I’m nicer about it while I’m makin ye look foolish.
Logan pops up instantly, jaw tight, and darts forward with a dropkick aimed at Carter’s chest. Carter side-steps and Logan hits the mat hard, but he turns the miss into momentum, kipping up and firing a second dropkick on the rebound that clips Carter’s shoulder and staggers him backward. Carter shakes it out and answers with a standing dropkick that catches Logan flush, snapping Hunter’s head back and sending him into the ropes. Logan rebounds and runs right into a slingblade, Carter spinning him down with that sudden whip of the body that turns speed into impact, and Carter doesn’t let him breathe. Basement dropkick, straight into Logan’s ribs, forcing air out in a sharp burst.
Simone: There it is. Slingblade into the basement dropkick. Carter’s rhythm is beautiful, but it’s also brutal.
Lunam: Ye can dance through violence, Simone. Carter’s makin an art project out of Logan’s discomfort.
Carter goes for the first pin, hooking the near leg tight.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Logan kicks out with a jolt and immediately tries to turn it into a scramble, because scrambles are where cheaters thrive. He rakes at Carter’s fingers to break the grip, rolls to the ropes, and Brooke leans in, eyes bright, ready to talk over Jasmine’s shoulder. Tempest steps closer at ringside, arms folded, and Brooke stops short like she just remembered pain has a name.
Simone: Brooke wants to insert herself. Tempest is a wall.
Lunam: Aye, and it’s the first time Brooke’s flirtin with danger and it’s flirtin back.
Logan slips out to the apron and re-enters with that arrogant little hop, inviting Carter in, and when Carter advances, Logan snaps off a quick headbutt, not pretty, just effective. Carter stumbles, and Logan capitalizes with a belly-to-belly suplex that launches Carter clean, folding him over the throw and planting him on his back. Logan follows with a lariat that nearly turns Carter inside out, then drags him up by the wrist and fires a ripcord knee strike that catches Carter’s jaw and drops him to a knee.
Simone: Ripcord knee strike! That one changes your teeth.
Lunam: That’s a knee that could knock sense into a statue. Carter’s lights just flickered.
Logan tries to keep Carter grounded, slapping on a single leg Boston crab, wrenching back with spite in his face. Carter’s hands claw at the mat, shoulders tense, pain written down his spine, but the champion drags himself inch by inch toward the ropes. Logan looks to Brooke, almost reflexively, but Tempest’s presence keeps her frozen. Logan curses under his breath and sits deeper, trying to turn torque into surrender. Carter grits through it, and at the last second he twists his hips, folds forward, and yanks Logan off-balance into a small package.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Logan kicks out and both men scramble up, Carter faster, snapping in a guillotine choke standing. Logan’s arms flail for leverage, his boots skidding, his face darkening as the choke squeezes tight. He drives Carter backward into the corner, trying to crush him against the turnbuckles to force a break. Jasmine rushes in.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
Carter releases on four, palms up, but he doesn’t back away. He surges forward with a handspring clothesline in the corner, springing off the mat like a coiled wire and blasting Logan across the chest. Logan crumples into a seated position, and Carter’s grin turns mischievous.
Simone: Uh-oh. Carter’s eyes just lit up.
Lunam: That’s the look of a man about to do somethin disrespectful with athleticism.
Carter charges and delivers the bronco buster in the corner, hips driving, crowd roaring, Logan’s arms flailing as humiliation mixes with impact. Carter rolls out and immediately clamps on again, switching gears, dragging Logan to the center and turning him over for a Texas cloverleaf. Logan’s legs are threaded, Carter sits back, wrenching, and Logan’s face contorts as he reaches for anything, rope, canvas, air.
Simone: Cloverleaf locked in. Carter is attacking joints now, trying to take away Logan’s base.
Lunam: Aye, and Logan’s the type who needs his legs for the springboards, the dives, all the flashy nonsense he uses to hide the dirty bits.
Logan claws forward, inches from the rope, but Carter drags him back, refusing to allow escape. Logan, desperate, rolls his hips, twists, and kicks his free boot up into Carter’s shoulder, then into Carter’s face. Carter breaks the hold, shaking his head, and Logan scrambles up with a sudden superkick that cracks across Carter’s chin. Carter collapses to the mat like his strings were cut.
Simone: Superkick! Carter got caught flush!
Lunam: That’ll rattle the brain, and Logan Hunter smells blood like a shark smells the sea.
Logan doesn’t waste time. He drags Carter up for a brainbuster, hoisting him and dropping him straight down with vicious precision. Carter bounces, clutching his head and neck. Logan goes for the cover, pressing his forearm across Carter’s face, grinding it in.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Carter kicks out with authority, but the kick-out costs him. He rolls to his side, trying to re-center, and Logan backs to the ropes and launches himself for a springboard flying elbow. Carter moves at the last instant, Logan crashes hard, and Carter springs up to the middle rope and hits a diving meteora, knees driving into Logan’s chest, folding him. Carter hooks the leg quickly.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Simone: Meteora into the pin! That was dangerously close!
Lunam: Carter’s a step away from winnin this, and Logan knows it. That’s when Logan gets meaner.
Logan rolls out under the bottom rope to create distance, shaking out his arms, but Carter follows him right to the outside, dropping off the apron with purpose and circling in close. Carter stalks like a predator with glitter in his soul, eyes locked on Logan’s back as the Roulette Champion tries to reset and breathe. Logan glances over his shoulder, sizing up the champion, and the moment Carter reaches to grab him, Logan snaps a hand up and pokes him in the eye, sharp and deliberate, just enough to blind him and steal the opening. Carter recoils with a shout, one hand flying to his face, and Logan pounces, seizing him by the arm and ramming him spine-first into the barricade with a nasty thud that makes the guardrail shudder.
Simone: Right to the eye, then straight into the barricade! That’s classic Logan Hunter, no conscience and no hesitation!
Lunam: Aye, that’s filth, pure filth. He stole Carter’s vision and then tried to fold him like a chair.
Logan shoves Carter off the barricade and immediately rolls back into the ring, acting like he’s done nothing wrong, hands up in that smug little shrug as Jasmine leans out to warn him. Carter staggers, still blinking hard, trying to clear the sting from his eye as the crowd rains down boos. Logan uses the seconds he bought to take a running start, hitting the ropes once, twice, building speed like he’s loading a weapon.
Logan rockets between the ropes like a cannonball, shoulder and forearm smashing into Carter, sending the World Heavyweight Champion tumbling into the floor. Both men hit hard, bodies slapping the mats, the crowd surging with that primal roar that only happens when gravity gets violent.
Simone: Suicide dive! Logan just threw his whole body at Carter!
Lunam: Aye, he turned himself into a missile, and Carter’s the target. That’s the thing about Logan, he’ll risk his own spine if it means breakin yours first.
Jasmine leans out and starts the count as both men stir.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
Logan gets up first, as expected, and immediately tries to use the environment, guiding Carter toward the barricade. He rams Carter spine-first into it, then shoves him down and talks trash right into his face, smug and breathless. Brooke claps like she’s cheering a dance recital, but Tempest doesn’t clap. Tempest watches, coiled, waiting for Brooke to overstep. Logan tries to roll Carter back in, but Carter blocks, hooking Logan’s arms and snapping a back suplex on the floor, dropping Logan hard and buying himself a breath.
Simone: Carter just changed the tempo with that suplex on the outside. That’s fight IQ.
Lunam: That’s a champion’s stubbornness. He got hit, he got hurt, and he said, no, I’m not dyin on the pavement tonight.
Carter rolls Logan in and climbs the ropes with urgency, looking for the diving moonsault, his body rising like a promise. Logan rolls away at the last second and Carter lands on his feet, but his momentum carries him forward. Logan strikes from behind with a sharp chop block to the knee, then immediately grabs the leg and twists, trying to compromise Carter’s base for the rest of the match. Carter grimaces and kicks Logan off, but the damage is planted like a seed.
Logan sees the opening and tries to end it with a moonsault. He climbs, steadying, and leaps, but Carter raises his knees, catching Logan’s ribs. Logan folds, and Carter grabs him, spinning him into a double knee facebreaker that snaps Logan’s head forward. Carter doesn’t pose. Carter covers.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Simone: Near fall after near fall. These two are pushing each other into desperation.
Lunam: Ye can see it in their eyes now. It’s no longer about bein pretty. It’s about survivin.
Spot 3 arrives as the crowd swells again.
Logan is on the outside and Carter goes up top to leap out onto him but Brooke gets in between them! Tempest comes around and runs her off back to her own corner!
Carter perches on the top rope, tracking Logan’s position like a hawk. Logan’s on the floor, half-stunned, looking up just in time to see the champion about to take flight. Brooke darts in, sliding between Carter’s line and Logan’s body, hands up, smirking, ready to sacrifice herself to save Logan. The crowd boos, but before Brooke can even fully claim the space, Tempest moves. Tempest stalks around the ring with long strides, her shadow swallowing Brooke, and Brooke’s confidence collapses again. Tempest points back toward Logan’s corner, and Brooke retreats like she’s backing away from a storm.
Simone: That’s why Tempest is here. Brooke can’t be the shield anymore.
Lunam: Aye, she tried to stand in front of the train and realized she was wearin paper.
Carter launches anyway, diving from the top and crashing onto Logan with a flying body press on the floor, the impact echoing through the arena. Carter rolls Logan back in, follows, and hits a front dropkick that snaps Logan into the corner. Carter charges and drives a second handspring clothesline, then drags Logan out for the giant swing. The crowd counts along as Carter rotates Logan’s body, boots flailing, Logan’s face going from anger to panic to nausea.
Simone: Giant swing! Carter’s turning Logan into a centrifuge.
Lunam: If Logan’s dinner comes up, it’s goin to land in Brooke’s lap from sheer physics.
Carter releases and Logan collapses in a heap, dizzy and gasping. Carter tries to capitalize with Ride ’Em Cowboy, straddling for control, but Logan bucks and twists, scraping a hand up Carter’s body and aiming for anything illegal. Jasmine’s eyes cut toward them immediately, and Logan thinks better of it, at least for the moment, shoving Carter off and stumbling into a kneel.
That’s when the night’s temperature drops. Alexander Raven walks out to massive boos! He stations himself at ringside by the broadcast table to watch Carter up close!
Simone: No. No, no, no. Alexander Raven is here, and listen to this crowd.
Lunam: That’s venom in the air, Simone. He’s standin there like a man watchin a meal he intends to eat later.
Raven doesn’t grandstand. He doesn’t yell. He simply arrives, composed, smug, and takes his place by the broadcast table like he owns the sightline to Carter’s soul. Carter’s eyes flick toward him, and you can see the mental tug, the awareness of Fort Worth, the awareness of the rematch, the awareness that the predator is watching the prey learn how to bleed.
This distraction causes Carter to be left wide open for a sneak attack from behind by Logan. Logan blasts Carter from behind with a running forearm, then snaps him down with a dragon screw to the already targeted knee. Carter clutches the leg, and Logan pounces, hooking for a quick cover.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Simone: Raven’s presence was all Logan needed. Carter took his eyes off the match for half a second and Logan stole it.
Lunam: Aye, and Raven’s smirkin because he knows he’s already winnin a war without touchin a soul.
Logan drags Carter up and tries the Faithbreaker, cinching the triangle choke, wrapping Carter’s head and arm, locking the legs, squeezing like a vice. Carter’s face tightens, his hands slapping at Logan’s boot, trying to create space. Logan adjusts, angling his hips, pulling down on the head, eyes wide with cruel determination.
Simone: Faithbreaker is in! Carter’s trapped!
Lunam: Carter’s breath is gettin stolen, and Logan’s doin it with a grin. That’s dangerous.
Carter fights like a champion. He stacks Logan up, forcing his shoulders toward the mat, trying to turn suffocation into a pin. Jasmine drops to count.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Logan releases to avoid the loss, furious, and Carter immediately rolls forward into a guillotine again, refusing to let Logan regain control. Logan shoves him off and tries a powerbomb, hoisting Carter, but Carter twists mid-air into an inverted frankensteiner that spikes Logan down. The crowd explodes. Carter crawls into position, climbs to the middle rope, and hits another diving meteora, then quickly transitions to a Full Windsor Knot attempt, tying Logan up, testing his balance.
Simone: Carter is layering offense. Strike, impact, submission. He’s forcing Logan to answer everything.
Lunam: Aye, and Logan hates answerin questions. He only likes givin lectures.
Logan claws the ropes with his fingertips and earns a break, and Carter releases, but he’s breathing hard now, leg aching from earlier damage, eyes darting once more to Raven, who doesn’t move. Raven simply watches. Carter steps out onto the apron and shouts a warning to Raven before returning his attention to Logan who is rising.
Carter springs over the ropes with that smooth, gravity-defying confidence, hooking Logan for the sunset flip. Logan’s mind works faster than his morals, and he drops to his knees on Carter’s shoulders, turning it into a pinning predicament with Carter folded. Logan’s hand snakes to the rope, fingers curling, blatant leverage.
ONE!
TWO!
Jasmine sees it and stops the count cold, pointing at the rope and waving it off. Logan explodes into protest, getting in her face, palms out, voice raised. Jasmine doesn’t flinch. She kicks the rope down and away with a sharp motion, knocking Logan’s grip loose. The instant Logan loses the leverage, Carter shifts, rolls through, and snaps Logan down again with the sunset flip.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Simone: Jasmine caught it! She caught it and she shut it down!
Lunam: That’s why she’s senior referee, Simone. Logan tried to steal, and Jasmine said, not on my watch, lad.
Logan sits up, livid, and Carter’s smile is back, but it’s tighter now. He knows how close Logan was to robbery. Logan knows he got caught. Those are dangerous emotions in the same ring.
They trade bursts now, step by step, escalating into a rhythm that feels less like a sequence and more like a storm building pressure. Logan springs forward first, snapping off a sharp dropkick that catches Carter high in the chest and knocks him back a step, boots skidding as he hits the ropes. Carter shakes it off and answers immediately, stepping in with a stiff kick to the sternum that lands with a hollow smack, forcing Logan to grunt and fold at the waist for half a second before pride straightens him back up. Logan’s eyes harden, and he charges like he’s trying to run through Carter instead of around him, swinging a lariat with everything behind it, the kind that would take a head off if it lands clean. Carter barely gets his forearms up in time, absorbing the blow across his guard, but the impact still rattles him and spins him sideways.
Logan tries to capitalize on that stagger, grabbing at Carter’s wrist as if to set up something slick, but Carter drops his hips, pivots, and suddenly turns defense into offense with a back suplex that spikes Logan down hard. Logan’s shoulders bounce off the mat and he scrambles up more on instinct than clarity, shaking his head like he’s trying to snap the world back into focus. Carter closes the distance, reaching to keep him from escaping, but Logan fires from the hip with a superkick, the sole of his boot cracking across Carter’s jaw. Carter’s head whips to the side and his legs wobble, the champion catching himself with a hand on the ropes as the crowd gasps at how clean the shot was.
Logan takes a step in, smelling the moment, but Carter’s eyes narrow and his body shifts, refusing to fold. As Logan lunges to follow up, Carter whips around and catches him with a slingblade, turning his own momentum into a sudden, spinning takedown that slams Logan onto his back. Logan rolls through the landing, clutching at his shoulder, and Carter’s chest rises and falls hard as he resets his stance, both men glaring at each other with sweat shining under the lights. The audience can feel the tension climbing with every exchange, because now it isn’t just who’s faster or stronger, it’s who can keep their composure when the other starts firing haymakers.
At ringside, Alexander Raven watches without blinking, posture relaxed, expression faintly amused, like a scientist observing a reaction he already predicted, as if every kick and collision is just more data for what he plans to do to Carter at Blaze of Glory.
Carter finally sees his opening. Logan staggers, his posture loose, his eyes glassy. Carter limps but powers through, climbing the turnbuckles with urgency, setting his feet, balancing, ready to end it with something definitive.
Brooke’s fear of Tempest doesn’t erase her instinct to interfere when it matters most. She pops onto the apron, shouting, gesturing, drawing Jasmine’s attention. Jasmine turns and orders her down, and Brooke argues, playing the victim and the seductress in the same breath. Carter hesitates on the top rope, annoyed, trying to keep his balance. That half-second is all Logan needs. He sprints up the corner like a man escaping a fire, grabs Carter, and rips him down with a Spanish Fly from the heights, both bodies rotating and crashing to the mat in a sickening collision.
Simone: SPANISH FLY! Carter got yanked out of the sky!
Lunam: Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, that’s the kind of fall that makes ye question what year it is.
Logan hooks the leg, desperation and triumph mixing in his eyes.
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out!
Simone: He kicked out! Carter kicked out! That was a heartbeat from disaster!
Lunam: Carter’s heart is made of stubborn glitter, Simone. It doesnae know how to quit.
Tempest’s patience breaks like a snapped chain. She marches over and yanks Brooke off the apron with one brutal pull. Brooke hits the floor and, in a moment of pure panic and pride, she slaps Tempest across the face.
Simone: Brooke just slapped Tempest!
Lunam: Does she have a death wish, or is she simply daft? That’s like slappin a bear and askin it for a cuddle!
Brooke’s eyes go wide and her hands go up, palms out, pleading. Tempest’s expression doesn’t change. Tempest grabs Brooke by the hair and whips her into the barricade, then again, then again, ragdolling her like she weighs nothing. The steel guardrail shudders with each impact. Logan, in the ring, sees it and physically recoils, his face twisting as if he can feel every slam through his own ribs.
Simone: Tempest is dismantling Brooke Shields at ringside!
Lunam: Aye, and Logan’s wincin like he’s watchin his own fate. He’s shaken, Simone. He’s shaken.
Tempest hauls Brooke toward the broadcast table like she’s dragging a bad decision to its conclusion. Brooke’s legs kick weakly, her arms reaching for anything. Tempest hoists her up, setting her in position for a powerbomb. Logan stumbles toward the ropes, hands out, yelling, pleading.
Simone: Logan is begging her to stop!
Lunam: Don’t do it, lass, don’t do it, Tempest! Ye’ll break her in half!
Tempest doesn’t hesitate. She lifts and drives Brooke down through the broadcast table. Wood and monitors explode outward, the table collapsing in a violent ruin. The crowd erupts in shock, and the whole arena feels like it just witnessed a reckoning.
Marissa covers her mouth, eyes wet with disbelief, and Logan looks like a man whose world just cracked! Raven, ever composed, smirks and mock applauds, then steps back, hands raised slightly, as if to say he’s not foolish enough to insert himself into Tempest’s path.
Simone: Raven is enjoying this. That should tell you everything about him.
Lunam: Aye. He’s clappin because he loves chaos, but he’s steppin away because he respects power. That’s Raven in a nutshell.
Logan turns back toward the corner, still staring at the wreckage like he’s seeing a nightmare. He’s a fraction late. Carter is already up top again, balanced, focused, the crowd roaring him forward. Carter launches, flipping into the Fruit Fly, crashing down with the Eclipse-like impact that drives the air from Logan’s lungs and folds him in half. Carter hooks deep, stacking him tight, chest heaving.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING DING DING!
Justin: Here is your winner! The World Heavyweight Champion! Helluva Bottom Carter!
Simone: Carter survived Logan Hunter and the circus at ringside. He survived Raven’s presence. And he just pinned the Roulette Champion dead center.
Lunam: Aye, but look around, Simone. This doesnae feel like a celebration. This feels like the end of one storm and the start of another.
Suddenly someone from the audience invades the ring! HA figure vaults the barricade and slides into the ring with frantic speed.
Simone: Wait, wait, wait, we’ve got someone in the ring!
Lunam: That’s a fan! There’s a feckin fan in the ring!
Before Carter can fully rise, the mystery fan crashes into him, tackling him hard and raining down clubbing fists. Carter covers up, trying to roll, stunned by the sudden assault, boots kicking as he searches for leverage. Jasmine rushes in, arms extended, shouting for security, but the attacker is wild, swinging like he’s been waiting all night for this moment.
Simone: Get him off Carter! Security, now!
Lunam: That’s assault, that’s not a story, that’s a bloody crime! Get him off!
Alexander Raven shocks everyone by jumping into the ring! Raven moves before anyone can process it. He slides into the ring, grabs the attacker by the collar, and yanks him off Carter with a violent snap. Raven drives forearms into the fan, forcing him backward, then hooks him and wrenches him upright with cold efficiency.
Simone: ALEXANDER RAVEN! Raven just pulled him off Carter!
Lunam: I cannae believe what I’m seein! Raven saved Carter! Raven saved him!
Raven clamps the fan in place, arms locked, controlling him like he’s restraining a child, while Jasmine points and waves security in with urgency. Security floods the ring, grabbing the attacker, and Raven releases only when they have a firm grip. Jasmine steps between Carter and the chaos, checking on the champion, eyes sharp, making sure the threat is gone.
Simone: What a night. Tempest just destroyed Brooke Shields at ringside, Carter retained momentum with a huge win, and now Raven, the man who wants the World Heavyweight Title, just saved the champion from an attack.
Lunam: This business is madness, Simone. Pure madness. One minute ye’re watchin a match, the next minute ye’re watchin a table explode, and then the villain becomes the hero for reasons only he understands.
Simone: And that’s what scares me. Raven didn’t do that out of kindness. He did it because Carter is his. That rematch at Blaze of Glory XV, Raven wants Carter intact so he can take him apart himself.
Lunam: Aye. Raven doesnae want anyone else stealin his moment. He wants to be the one holdin Carter down, the one lookin him in the eyes when the lights go out. That’s a different kind of threat.
Simone: We have witnessed chaos, strategy, brutality, and now the strangest rescue you’ll see in professional wrestling. Helluva Bottom Carter wins the Clash of the Champions, Tempest sends a message to Brooke Shields that might echo for months, and Alexander Raven just added a brand new layer to the psychological war heading into Blaze of Glory XV.
Lunam: Goodnight, SCW Universe. Mind yerselves on the way out. If ye’re headin to Fort Worth, Texas, we’ll see ye March 8 at Dickie’s Arena for Blaze of Glory, and after what we saw tonight, I dinnae know how anyone sleeps between now and then.
Carter sits upright, chest heaving, one hand rubbing his jaw where the fists landed, the other braced behind him to keep steady. He looks up at Raven with shock and wariness, eyes narrowed behind sweat and adrenaline. Raven stands over him, calm as a statue, expression unreadable, gaze locked on the World Heavyweight Champion like he’s studying the final page of a book he intends to rewrite. Neither man speaks. The crowd buzzes, uncertain whether to boo, cheer, or hold their breath.
Simone: That stare says everything.
Lunam: Aye. That stare says Fort Worth is comin.
The image freezes in the tension between salvation and threat, and the broadcast fades to credits.
THANK YOU! To everyone who wrote for this show. Match writers and segments are always appreciated and highly valued! Without all of you, there would be no SCW!