Battlelines 31 Results

(We fade in on the capacity crowd inside The Pit, eagerly awaiting the start of Battlelines. The camera pans the crowd momentarily, showing the arena’s unique construction. With the floor of the arena resting 37 feet beneath street level and the seating comprised of one continuous level on each side, yet still holding a capacity of fifteen thousand, it was easy to see why the place was called The Pit. Tonight, perhaps more than ever, the EWA Battlelines set resembles a gladiator arena and the crowd is fired up to witness the action here tonight.)

Mike Malone: Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Battlelines 31! I’m Mike Malone, and with me, as always and unfortunately, is Vincent Ashe.

Vincent Ashe: Pipe down, Malone. You’re nothing without me! You’re the Chris Kage to my Alexander Haven! The Sahara to my God Queen!

MM: Certainly debatable in all of those cases, but one thing is for certain…Champion’s Summit is weeks away and we still don’t know who Alexander Haven will defend his EWA World Championship against.

VA: I have it on good authority that matter will be settled this evening. In fact, any second now…




MM: How’d you guess that?

VA: I read the notes for the show, Malone. See this one here? It says “ALEXANDER HAVEN SHOW OPENING ANNOUNCEMENT.” And people call ME unprofessional…

MM: I didn’t get any notes for the show…

VA: (throws a crumpled up piece of paper over his shoulder subtly) You’re an embarrassment, Malone.

(Alexander Haven emerges from backstage, dressed in a simple but obviously expensive black suit with a black tie and a pair or even more expensive sunglasses. The new World Championship belt is draped over his shoulder and he pauses on the ramp, admiring it and shining it with the sleeve of his coat. The previously excited crowd has turned overwhelmingly negative in response to the EWA Owner’s arrival. Noticeably absent is Alyssa Marie, as Haven enters the ring. Nikki Rogers enters the ring on the opposite side and extends the microphone towards Haven, who stares at her incredulously from behind the designer sunglasses.)

MM: And our owner appears none too happy here from the start.

VA: Can you blame him?! Listen to these idiots here in New Mexico boo him! New plan – build a wall around this shithole of a state!

(Haven exchanges some tense words with Rogers that the audio doesn’t quite pick up. Rogers clears her throat, stands up straight and begins to speak as Haven stands in the center of the ring with his back to her.)

Nikki Rogers: Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to publicly apologize to Mr. Haven for neglecting to introduce him in a proper and fitting manner. As I should have said…Introducing a man who needs no introduction…

MM: Evidently he does…

NR: …he is the EWA Owner, CEO, and World Heavyweight Champion…the One True King of the EWA…”The Incomparable” ALEXANDER HAVEN!

(The crowd boos loudly, which is only amplified by the arena’s design. Haven reaches for the microphone calmly, seemingly ignoring the reaction from the capacity crowd as he removes his sunglasses and tucks them in the pocket of the suit jacket. After a moment, the crowd dies down slightly, and Haven speaks.)

Alexander Haven: That all you got, Albuquerque?

(The sold out crowd roars to life once more. A small chant of “WE WANT KAGE” breaks out, as Haven wanders over to the corner of the ring and leans casually against the ringpost, waiting it out with a smirk plastered on his face.)

Alexander Haven: Oh, you can chant all you want, but I promise you, he will not come. You see, I was serious when I said that I was cutting Chris Kage off from the spotlight. While I may not have the right to fire Chris Kage, thanks to the ridiculously iron clad contract I brokered for him, as an active EWA talent I do have the right to book him in any and all matches I see fit.

And the way I see it, the last thing any reasonable human being wants to see on their television is Chris Kage’s ugly fucking face.

MM: Listen to this crowd, Ashe! They certainly don’t agree with that statement.

VA: He said “reasonable human beings,” none of whom are in attendance here tonight.

Alexander Haven: I said “reasonable human beings”, people!

MM: …how did you do that?

VA: I speak greatness, Malone.

Alexander Haven: I’m not even sure some of you are even human. Jesus, I’ve been in front of some ugly crowds before, but I guess it’s obvious why they built this place underground. Must have been a short commute here from Middle Earth for most of you. Did they call it The Pit because that’s where the people of this worthless city belong? Half of you look like you walked off the set of Breaking Bad. Did I accidentally book a show in a meth clinic? We should just back up the cement mixers and fill this thing in now, and cleanse society once and for all.

(The crowd reacts in a predictably negative manner and the chants of “WE WANT KAGE” find new life.)

MM: These people are paying customers! They didn’t come here to be talked down to!

VA: Like he cares, Malone! These people already lined his pockets by showing up here tonight!

Alexander Haven: Oh, honestly, like I care Albuquerque. You already forked over your money for the privilege to be here tonight!


VA: Genius knows Genius, Malone.

Alexander Haven: But unfortunately for you, there will be no Chris Kage for you tonight. While it’s true that he is backstage right now, Chris Kage has been informed that we will no longer require his talents, or lack thereof, as a wrestler.

MM: He can’t do that! He said so himself!

VA: You go tell him that.

Alexander Haven: Relax, relax…let’s not have a pity party for Chris Kage. He remains an active employee of the EWA and we will continue to honor his contract as long as he shows up. I have several jobs with our janitorial crew earmarked specifically for him. Rest assured, we will find a use for Chris Kage.

MM: This is a joke. Kage is a world class wrestler and Haven would have him scrubbing toilets!

VA: You work your way up to toilets, Malone. There’s a hierarchy.

Alexander Haven: However, this benevolence on my part cannot come without certain safeguards against the insanity of Chris Kage. After being soundly defeated last week, I question his mental state and self control. It can’t be easy realizing just how right I was about him all along. Realizing that he truly is nothing without me. No offense, Prudence.

(Haven paces the ring for a moment, as he crowd fires up the “WE WANT KAGE” chant once more.)

Alexander Haven: As a new condition of his continued employment, if Chris Kage comes within twenty five feet of me outside of official competition, he will be immediately suspended for the remainder of his contract. If Chris Kage would like to challenge this new edict, my legal counsel looks forward to a lengthy court battle where we will gladly insure that he wastes every dollar he’s ever made on legal fees until he finds himself living with you filthy troglodytes in a trailer park.

VA: Chris Kage drives a thirty year old truck! He’d fit right in with these people!

(The crowd, in predictable fashion is one too pleased with that comment.)

Alexander Haven: And finally, if you’d all shut up for a few seconds, I have an important announcement to make regarding my opponent at Champion’s Summit. Since the EWA has flourished under my regime and reign as the rightful Champion and the One True King, I feel it’s only fair to give back to the entire EWA roster who helped make this possible.

MM: Somehow I doubt this is quite the act of charity it’s being presented as…

VA: Pipe down, Malone, or I’ll have you reported for treason!

(The crowd quiets slightly, perhaps confused Haven would want to give back to…well, anyone.)

Alexander Haven: So, to express my gratitude to all the competitors backstage, I have created a once in a lifetime opportunity for one lucky individual. Hidden backstage, somewhere in the depths of the aptly named Pit, is a contract. That contract has been signed and executed by yours truly, for a title defense against…well…whoever finds it. Let’s come up with a catchy name for it. Something marketing will love. Something totally original…

VA: We are about to see greatness at work! I’m sure he’ll come up with a fantastic name!

Alexander Haven: Ladies and gentleman…I present to you…THE GOLDEN TICKET!

MM: …has he ever seen Willy Wonka?

VA: Willy what? Who? What are you talking about?

MM: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? You’ve never seen it?

VA: Is that some sort of disgusting pornography? Gross, Malone. Keep your fetishes to yourself.

Alexander Haven: All any intrepid competitor needs to do is locate this Golden Ticket and present it to me, in this ring, at the end of the show after I have easily dispatched of Grace Goeren, and they will be granted the privilege of competing with the greatest EWA Champion ever at Champion’s Summit. Just my way of saying thank you to all the people who make the EWA what it is, even if I am mostly responsible for its glory. I will see you all later for the culmination of what will no doubt be a glorious search!

(Haven tosses the microphone to Nikki Rogers on the outside, who isn’t expecting it. It lands with a thud on the floor, as Haven exits the ring.)

MM: I guarantee you there’s no contract.

VA: That is absolute lunacy and I am appalled that you would even suggest such a thing!

MM: I’m sure you are. Nonetheless, we have a show to get on with tonight…



NR: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall and it’s for the EWA Network Championship! Introducing first, the challenger, from Cardiff, Wales, the Welsh Warrior Rayyyyy Willmott!

The lights dim and the riff at the beginning of ‘Moth Into Flame’ begins to play as the former world champion emerges onto the stage. Graphical fire starts to spread down the rampway toward the ring as the music kicks in and Willmott’s entire path to the ring is ablaze as he makes his way to the ring. He is dressed in a Willmott t-shirt, black tights with fire down both sides and a dragon-symbol on his rear. Once Willmott is in the ring, he moves toward the furthest turnbuckle, raises his chin to the ceiling, and spreads out his arms in an angelic pose to a large ovation.

MM: Talk about a big first test for the newly crowned Network Champion, Natalie Burrows, with former World Heavyweight Champion Ray Willmott looking to get himself back on track here tonight…

VA: Burrows has her work cut out for herself, and with all the distractions Ray Willmott has in his life between Laura and Dube, if Burrows was smart, she wouldn’t hold back. She needs to recognize that title is the best thing that’s ever happened to her since coming into the EWA and she needs to make sure she leaves here with it tonight.

MM: It’s not often I agree–

VA: Besides, the God Queen bestowed that title upon her, so she should covet it…

MM: That’s NOT what happened, Ashe. While Grace may have stuck her nose in Natalie’s business, the only thing she did was even the odds of Cronos basically handing a victory over to Elizabeth Gaunt.

VA: I agree, Malone…all praise Grace.

MM: You agree?

VA: I agree we should all praise Grace, yes.

An audible sigh is heard as Ray Willmott drops off the turnbuckles and turns toward the rampway, awaiting his opponent.

NR: Introducing the newwwwwww Network Champion, from Durham, North Carolina, the Southern Belle of the EWA, Natalie Burrows!!!

As Nikki finishes the introduction, the arena descends into a lasting darkness until the opening chords of ‘Monster’ by Paramore play as the screen comes to life. Aged footage of the Southern Belle fighting her way back up to her feet after being knocked down plays and as the chorus hits with a vengeance, Natalie Burrows emerges onto the rampway to thunderous cheers, the Network Title proudly draped over her shoulder.

MM: From her battles with Sahara to her confrontation with Elizabeth Gaunt and Cronos Diamante, Natalie Burrows has overcome overwhelming odds to be where she is today…standing tall as our new Network Champion. Do us proud…

VA: Speak for yourself, Malone…Sahara may be a bit of a slut, but I agree with her opinions on Burrows wholeheartedly.

MM: You would.

As coral and white lights flash along the rampway, Natalie slaps a few of the outstretched hands that are offered to her as she walks toward the ring. Speeding up at the bottom of the ramp, she jumps onto the ring apron and slowly lifts the Network championship high above her head, merely getting a nod of respect in return from Ray Willmott.

MM: Always the professional, Willmott just showed Natalie more respect than anyone has shown her since her arrival here in the EWA.

A true test of Burrow’s resiliency was on display front and center against a recent World Champion. The crowd didn’t seem to know who to cheer for as both competitors remain fan favorites, but the grueling action sucked them in. Burrows’ unrelenting striking style clashed with the the more traditional veteran, but it made for exciting back and forth action. In a rare match of respect, both competitors fought hard, taking no cheap shots or short cuts to seek victory…

MM: Natalie has shown me something here tonight…in defense of that Network Title, she’s digging deep and finding a gear I’ve not previously seen out of her.

VA: Willmott is no slouch…former World Champion, however, with the drama surrounding Laura Seton, he’s been unable to find a groove as of late, his mind is just on too many things for such a laser focused opponent.

In an astounding sequence, Burrows countered a moonsault from Ray Willmott with a stunning punch to the gut taking the former champion down from mid air. Willmott never quite recovered and Burrows eventually found paydirt hitting the Closure followed up by her version of the Rayleen Bomb called Hitting Bottom. Much to the surprise of the capacity crowd, Willmott was unable to power out and Burrows picked up a stunning victory in her first title defense of the EWA Network Championship.

MM: What an incredible title defense for the Network Champion, ladies and gentlemen!

VA: But how long can she really hold onto that title, Malone? The competition is red hot here in the EWA, and she’s a target in many ways, especially with Cronos Diamante lurking in the shadows.

MM: Only time will tell. Let’s take you backstage, folks!


(Shawna Jackson chews on the tip of the stylus pen and sighs, the bright globes of her eyes scanning some correspondence on the tablet in her hand. The enormous presence of Lucy Blaylock trudges along beside the EWA Head of Public Relations, and Shawna takes solace in having the giantess so close.

The situation has grown perilous as of late, and considering the list of enemies that Grace is acquiring, it’s good to have an infallible beast like Lucy watching her back.

We pick up on a conversation already occurring between the two.)

Shawna Jackson: I’m just concerned, Lucy. If Grace gets herself into a position where she can’t see the forest for the trees, then that becomes a liability that’s going to hurt her brand. I want things to go smoothly…

(Shawna shakes her head for a moment, her gaze falling on the glossy porcelain of Blaylock’s mask.)

Shawna Jackson: But we keep running into these little setbacks. The Sahara incident. The Gaunt incident. Her closest confidants sacrificed in the most public and brutal showcases imaginable. Someone has to be the voice of reason here. I’ll never be a simpering “yes woman”, but Grace sometimes needs to hear about the consequences of these actions. We have to examine every contingency…

(Blaylock’s massive hand reaches out, the paw gloved in trimmed white fingerless silk. Shawna can’t help but notice the French manicure on that mammoth hand. It seems even Lucy has become a bit complacent as of late, following in the footsteps of Grace’s “act first, think later” mindset.)

Lucy Blaylock: You’re a worrier, shug. The God Queen has everything well in hand. She is unconditional love, and her World Combat Championship reign is the priority. Those girls you mentioned…names I’m already fixing to forget…

(Blaylock practically growls in the far back of her throat.)

Lucy Blaylock: Sahara and Lizzie. Never Angels, not in the true sense. Just little sinner dragonflies with tattered wings. Sahara with her vanity and her bottomless lust. Lizzie with that damned defiant pride. Those turncoats got what was coming to them.

(Lucy nods, patting Shawna companionably on the back. It feels like a log tapping gently across her flesh…)

Lucy Blaylock: Grace is focused solely on Haven tonight. She knows best, and we don’t want to interfere with the God Queen’s brilliance. Don’t you worry that pretty lil’ head anymore, Shawna. You’ve got me keeping you safe.

(Shawna breathes out a little sigh, but she clips off a quick nod, and Lucy squeezes her shoulder with that warm southern charm dripping out past her mask.)

Lucy Blaylock: Just have a little faith, shug.

She pauses.

Lucy Blaylock: Faith will get you through just about–

(Lucy Blaylock never finishes her thought.

A wide figure charges into her from out of frame and connects with the giantess like a stampeding rhinoceros. Shawna is shoved to the side and falls awkwardly back onto her hands, her designer eyeglasses clattering to the floor.

She sees nothing but a blur of mercurial violence seizing upon Lucy and savaging the enormous woman. Shawna is momentarily frozen in shock, but finally she manages to scrape up her glasses and her tablet, and she half crawls and stumbles into the open door of a nearby storeroom. She immediately turns the lock and climbs to her feet, looking out through the little privacy glass window at the top.

Even with her glasses perched back on her nose, she can’t make anything out through that milky glass but the vague outline of thoughtless human destruction. Something is mauling Lucy Blaylock. The very idea of that terrifies Shawna.

What sort of human being is capable of mauling a seven foot force of nature like Lucy?

Shawna frantically begins to send off messages to Grace from her tablet, her eyes glued to that glazed window all the time. There are horrible splashing sounds out there. Something is hammering, gouging, and gnashing teeth. A triumphant howl echoes off the corridor walls, and Shawna nearly loses control of her bladder.

She sees nothing but the outline of a huge carcass splayed out on the floor. Something stands over the carcass. It’s looking directly at the door’s window. The thing is hunched, attentive, and almost playful. Shawna can’t make anything out but a tank-like body marred in burnt scar tissue and what appears to be a crown of twisted twigs and dried rose petals perched on a bullet-shaped head.

It approaches now.

It is patient with its approach, and Shawna feels her heart hammering like a piston in her chest.

A voice comes, and it is the voice of a choked children’s choir. It brings to mind images of deformed infants and those fat little baby angels that float across old paintings. Vile. Malignant. Cherubic…)

“I sent her to Gethsemane.”

(A hand SMACKS against the window, and it traces out the rudimentary outline of a cross with a gnarled fingernail. The cross is a smeared talisman dripping with Blaylock’s blood.)

“They all bleed in Gethsemane.”

(Those horrible hands float up in front of the window, and they interlock and flap together. They mimic the flight of a bird. Perhaps a sparrow. Or perhaps…the flight of an Angel.)

“Come and see.”

(The figure vanishes from the window. Shawna waits for several minutes, the tension making her nerves feel like frayed live wires. After she gets the distinct impression that the assailant has really left the scene, she gathers up her courage and opens the door.

She immediately wishes that she hadn’t.

The narrow hallway is awash in red stains. Plasma splattered against the walls, blood pooling on the floor, and crimson footprints leading off in another direction. The footprints depict large bare feet, and something about the sight of them makes Shawna struggle to keep her breakfast down.

Blaylock is hard to look at.

She’s been smashed with fists, crushed with stomps, and even bitten along the softer parts of her body. She’s facedown and barely breathing, and her porcelain mask has been ripped free from her face.

It spins in a lazy circle in a miniature ocean of giant’s blood.

It resembles a violent animal attack, something you hear about on the news but seldom see in person. Shawna is already dropping to her knees next to Lucy and screaming for medical assistance, but she can’t bring herself to touch the gruesome slab of meat that just moments prior stood beside her with words of protective encouragement.

This was more than a little setback.

This was a slaughter…)

VA: What the hell was that, Malone?! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!

MM: I…I don’t know, Vince…but…I think it spells trouble for your “God Queen” —

VA: A hateful demon has spawned from hell itself, bent on causing destruction to our holy Grace. Ye, though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Grace art with me…

MM: (sighs) Let’s…let’s move on here…

VA: …thy World Combat Championship and thy divinity shall comfort me…


The crowd pops hard as the Ramones classic “I Wanna Be Sedated” plays throughout the Pit!

NR: This contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Wantagh, NY, weighing in at 155 lbs, accompanied by Hueso and the Vice Squad, MINXY JONES!

The shortest member of the Vice Squad steps out onto the stage, pointing to the ring with a big smile on her masked face! Hueso follows behind in his powder-blue suit, a bit of a blond goatee poking out through the horned-skull mask, and Lágrima and Santa Muerte flank him on either side, showing solidarity for their teammate!

MM: Last Battlelines saw the Vice Squad eke out a victory against Ray Willmott and Laura Seton to become number one contenders to the EWA Tag Team Championship, currently held by Mojave and Minxy’s opponent tonight, Joshua Kaine.

VA: Let’s face it, Malone, the better team won. If Laura didn’t have so much going on in her life, and wasn’t so boy-crazy, maybe she could’ve focused on the match.

MM: Boy-cra– I swear, Ashe, if I didn’t work with you, I think I’d want to beat the crap out of you.

VA: You sound like my first ex-wife.

Minxy runs to the ring, the rest of the Squad trailing behind, and she leaps onto the apron, swallow-diving over the top rope, and sliding across the canvas on her knees! She heads to her corner with a smile, climbing the turnbuckle, and pointing out at the crowd, before backflipping off the top rope, and limbering up for the match!

The crowd pops again as “Them Bones” grinds into the arena!

NR: And her opponent, from Lenoir, NC, weighing in at 190 lbs, accompanied by Mojave and Nikki Caldwell, he is one half of the EWA World Tag Team Champions, the Heir, JOSHUA KAINE!

The EWA World Tag Team Champions, MoJo, step out to a chorus of cheers, the belts wrapped around their waists, with Caldwell following behind. Kaine looks a little worse for wear, his face bruised and his lip still healing. To his credit, he raises his arms up in the air, and jogs down to the ring.

MM: The champ Josh Kaine, we’ve heard, was involved in an altercation at his mother’s establishment, Valhalla.

VA: Did you see the place, Malone? Like a damn mini tornado flew threw there. Messed up my favorite stall, too.

MM: What, like, for lapdances?

VA: Oh please, Malone, you think they pay me enough for that kind of extravagance?

MM: You mean a bathroom stall? How do you have a…


MM: Oh gross.

Kaine gingerly climbs into the ring, handing his belt off to Nikki, and stretches on the ropes, wincing as he does so. Minxy steps forward as Danny Smith calls for the bell.

Minxy Jones: You sure you still wanna do this?

Josh Kaine: Don’t patronize me.

Minxy Jones: OK, your call, kiddo.

Kaine immediately charges forward, but Ainsley pulls him into an armdrag! He pops up quick, but Minxy’s already moving forward, landing a spinning wheel kick to Kaine’s face! Josh pops up again, and Jones SAILS off the middle rope with a springboard moonsault– nobody home! Minxy hits the mat, and Kaine comes off the ropes himself, leaping with a senton that may have hurt him as much as it hurt Ainsley!

Kaine gets to his feet, as Minxy hooks an arm over the middle rope. He hooks her in a rear waistlock, and tosses her over his head with a German suplex! No! Minxy adds rotation, landing on her feet! Josh turns around on his hands and knees to a basement dropkick to the face! Minxy rolls backward, hopping to her feet, and crashing down hard with a standing shooting star press! She covers!












THR– kickout by Kaine!

MM: The veteran Minxy Jones proving that experience can, in fact, trump natural talent.

VA: Yeah, I think Minxy’s got a distinct lack of natural talent, too, Malone, but I’m glad you said it first.

MM: What? No, that’s not– Minxy has plenty of talent! She’s a former SHOOT and OPW singles champion!

VA: You shouldn’t devalue those titles by mentioning them now, Malone. Don’t remind people that a no-talent hack carried them.

MM: I hate you.

Minxy gets to her feet, never wasting a second as she charges to the ropes once again. She comes back– spear! Josh Kaine NAILS her to the mat with a nasty spear, but he’s slow to get up once more. Ainsley rolls over, and Josh steps out of the ring, slingshotting over the top rope with a legdrop across her throat! Kaine winces as he pulls himself back to his feet!

VA: Stop trying to keep up with her! You’ve got the technical skills, stick to what you’re good at!

MM: Are you complimenting Josh Kaine?

VA: C’mon, Malone, you know matches are a bitch to call when I can’t pretend to like at least one of them.

Mojave and Nikki shout words of encouragement from the outside, while Lágrima, Santa Muerte, and Hueso slam on the apron, trying to psyche Minxy up. Kaine throws a couple of kicks to Minxy’s face, and finally grabs her by the head, pulling her up to her feet– jawbreaker! Kaine stumbles back, holding his mouth, a cut reopening on his lip! Minxy hasn’t noticed, coming off of the ropes with a hurricanrana! Josh falls to the mat, and Ainsley takes a second to pop up and showboat to the crowd! She puts her hands to either side, soaking in the adoration, before landing a standing moonsault that gets sick air! She lands across Kaine’s chest with a crash, and hooks the leg!












THR– kickout!

She shakes her head, looking down at the champ, smiling, as she gets back to her feet. She pulls Josh to his feet, whipping him to the ropes and setting up to Seize the Means Of Production! Josh comes back off the ropes– Fenrir’s Bite! Ainsley let her guard down for one second, and Kaine took advantage, nailing the flying armbar, and flipping Ainsley over onto the mat!

MM: Fenrir’s Bite! This is it, Ashe! This has to be it!

VA: Danny Smith can’t see it, Malone!

Sure enough, as Minxy furiously taps the mat, Danny Smith is too busy trying to get Hueso off the apron! Jared Walsh is motioning with his cane, and Smith is yelling back at him, pointing to the entranceway!

Kaine drops the hold in time to see Nikki Caldwell FLY across the ring to crush Hueso in the face with the tag belt! Hueso crashes to the mat, his cane flying wildly into the air!

Santa Muerte’s eyes go wide, and she leaps up to the apron, where Caldwell has turned around to deal with a lecture from Smith! She spins her around, kicking her in the gut, and hooking her through the ropes, dropping her off the apron with a Sombrabomb!

MM: It’s pandemonium now, Vince!

VA: It hasn’t even STARTED to get crazy, Malone!

Marisol drops off the apron, screaming at Caldwell, but she gets ROCKED by Mojave, who leaps off of the ring steps with the Sandstorm! Santa Muerte is laid out on the outside, and Danny Smith has officially lost control of this match! Mojave barely has time to get to his feet before he gets a knee to his back from Jane, who hooks a leg over his face to put him down with the Victimizer! She turns around straight into a suicide dive from Kaine! Caldwell is finally getting to her feet, but so is Santa Muerte, as they brawl closer to where Lágrima and Josh are fighting, Ainsley manages to get to her feet in the ring, and takes the opportunity to fly over the top rope with a spaceman plancha that levels everybody! Danny Smith calls for the bell!

NR: Due to outside interference, this match is declared a no contest!

The bell rings repeatedly, as security rushes out to separate the two trios! As soon as there’s enough distance, Santa Muerte and Minxy rush to Hueso’s side, helping him to his feet! MoJo and Nikki Caldwell walk backward up the ramp, exchanging barbs with Lágrima as she yells back at them!

MM: A well-intentioned but misguided attempt to save the match for Minxy just created quite a competitive spark here, Ashe!

VA: Competitive? I’m pretty sure Santa Muerte had death in her eyes the moment Nikki laid a hand on her husband!

MM: I thought you were rooting for MoJo and Nikki this time.

VA: I go where the wind takes me, Malone.


(Heavy guitar riffs boom over the Public Address system as “Monster” by Skillet floods the arena. As the lyrics smoothly blend into the music, Cronos Diamante emerges from the entrance way sporting his usual combat boots and leather pants. Purple pyrotechnics shoot into the air as Cronos passes through them and makes his way to the ring to yet another mixed reaction. He interacts with a few fans that seem to be on his side, shaking hands with them and offering up a genuinely appreciative smile. Cronos ascends the steel steps and enters the ring, calling for a microphone. He catches the mic thrown to him and immediately begins speaking.)

Cronos Diamante: Hello Albuquerque, New Mexico!!! Home of the Lobos!!

Mike Malone: Say what you want about Cronos but he’s playing to the crowd’s love for their college team. It’s smart.

Vincent Ashe: Of course he’s smart. He’s one of the most intelligent fighters out there, Malone. He wants to win this crowd over before he slams them with the betrayal.

(This acknowledgement for one of the state’s most beloved sports team prompts the crowd to pop loudly with cheers.)

Cronos Diamante: Many of you may have been following what’s been happening as of late with me and I won’t pretend to know what’s in your minds as it concerns my attack on Natalie Burrows.

(Before Cronos can speak again he’s hit with a chorus of boos, Natalie obviously being a fan favorite. With her winning the Network Championship, that feeling has been even more solidified in the hearts and minds of the fans. He waits for the crowd to die down and sit before he continues.)

Cronos Diamante: Yeah, I understand. Big bad Cronos decides to attack her and she’s become even more of a fan favorite than she already was. That’s fine. But business is business and I didn’t do it for personal reasons. I did it for personal gain but that’s not quite the same thing, now is it? Before we continue any of this… Natalie, if you’re watching, which I’m sure you are, come on down!!! We have much to discuss you and I.

MM: All he had to do was ask. That music says it all! Here she comes!

(All of five seconds pass before ‘Monster’ by Paramore hits the sound system… and the crowd roars its approval as the Southern Belle herself comes out from behind the curtain, the Network Championship over one shoulder and a microphone in hand. Natalie Burrows strides to the top of the ramp, warily glancing about to ensure that no one is lying in wait to ambush her. Motioning for her music to be cut, the production team is quick to honor her request. When she speaks, her voice is politely chilly at absolute best.)

Natalie Burrows: Save your breath, Mister Diamante. As far as I’m concerned, the only way to settle the business between us is in that ring, in a match instead of you ambushing me backstage again like the coward you are. I’m thinking next Battle Lines, one on one!

VA: Natalie is biting off more than she can chew by challenging the submission expert to a one on one, Malone. This won’t end well.

MM: Natalie can put up a fight against Cronos just as well as anybody else. I think she’s more than a match for Cronos. I think she can beat him.

(The crowd cheers the blond’s fighting spirit. Cronos looks around at the crowd cheering on this turn of events and Cronos holds his hands up in the air to quiet the crowd down, a giant smirk apparent on his face.)

Cronos Diamante: I’m no more a coward than you are a fan hatred, Natalie. I simply had to acquire your attention and I did that. I assure you had I wished for anything more than that, I could have broke some bones while you were knocked out cold.

(The crowd reigns down heavy boos upon Cronos, not liking his inferring that he would break Natalie’s bones. Cronos holds his hands up once more to quiet the crowd.)

Cronos Diamante: Oh quiet down! I didn’t say I was going to break her bones. I said I could have. But I digress. I agree you and I need to have a little fun in this ring here but what we disagree on is how that’s going to go down. I’m not ready to give you the honor of facing me one on one, Natalie. You can call me a coward again if you like but I call it strategic. It gives us both a chance to scout one another a bit more if say… we have a tag match! You pick a partner and I’ll pick a partner and next week on Battlelines we can have it out in this very ring. Whaddya say to that?

(The crowd cheers at the prospect of seeing Cronos and Natalie in the ring together, even if it’s a tag match rather than one on one. Cronos lifts his hands up to hype the crowd up even more. The Southern Belle weighs his words, her face contemplative–and when she responds? There’s a faintly bemused smile upon her lips.)

Natalie Burrows: You see, you could have gotten my attention like this–by coming out here and calling me, like you just did. You could have approached me backstage civilly and you would have gotten my attention that way, too. There are dozens of ways you could have gotten my attention, Mister Diamante… and you chose the coward’s route. And that?

(That smile vanishes, the sort of deadly intent that saw Sahara’s nose nearly getting broken surfacing in its stead.)

Natalie Burrows: That means that when this tag match happens at the next episode of Battle Lines, I’m going to show you why you should have approached me with the respect that I deserve. It doesn’t matter who you choose to be your partner, because when the dust settles? My partner and I will be the ones holding our heads up high… and you’ll be wondering just why you decided to go down the same road that has led to the ruin of just about every person that was foolish enough to pull the… the bullshit you have.

Cronos Diamante: You were knocked out when I said this last but I admire your spirit, Natalie. I’ll see you next week at Battle Lines.

Natalie Burrows: And soon after you see me? You’ll be seeing the lights.

MM: Next Battle Lines we’re going to see Natalie Burrows and Cronos Diamante face off against one another with a partner in their corner. Who they choose is going to be interesting in the coming week!

VA: I bet Cronos chooses Sahara. With the history Natalie and Sahara have it’s a no brainer.

(‘Monster’ by Paramore hits the sound system, the Southern Belle staring Cronos Diamante down without so much as an ounce of hesitation. Cronos is smirking to himself, while Natalie is stone-faced. The camera cuts backstage.)

(We fade backstage to find the always energetic broadcast journalist we’ve come to love, Allison Haines, she is standing alongside former Youth member and three time EWA World Heavyweight Champion, Chris Kage. The former champ has on his normal out of ring gear, a black hoody and blue jeans, as he is not scheduled to be in action tonight on Battlelines. Kage looks a little more irritated than usual, however not surprising given the way Battlelines 30 ended for him.)

Allison Haines: Hello, Chris, it’s great to see you here tonight and also a bit surprising given that you are not scheduled to appear tonight on the card. I can only assume you are here to confront the EWA CEO and World Heavyweight Champion, Alexander Haven. Considering how Battlelines ended with Martin Robertson getting involved, which essentially cost you the match and your chance at becoming the second EWA Warrior to ever hold the EWA’s grand jewel for the fourth time.

Chris Kage: You’re right, Allison, I am not scheduled to be in action tonight, and to be honest, I could give a flying fuck. I don’t need to get tossed into the ring with some mid-card ass hat just to acquiesce to the wants and needs of Alex Haven. But you’re wrong as well my dear, because I am not here to confront anyone. I am simply here on business, I am here to cement my place at Champions Summit III, and continue my quest of becoming a four-time EWA World Heavyweight Champion.

Allison Haines: Does that mean you are here to try and find the quote un quote Golden Ticket? The very same Golden Ticket that Alexander Haven announced tonight has been hidden here in the arena and if found would get its holder a guaranteed shot at the EWA CEO at CS3, is that what brings you all the way out to Albuquerque tonight?

Chris Kage: Golden Ticket? (Kage laughs) What a fucking joke, let’s be honest there is only one “Golden Ticket” when it comes to Alex, and I know exactly where to find it. Stay tuned…

(‘The Incomparable One’ gives Allison a quick wink and a smile before walking out of the shot as we quickly fade back to ringside.)



They choose the path where no one goes…

NR: This contest is a six-man tag team match, and is scheduled for one fall!

The gruff guitar riff of Led Zeppelin’s “No Quarter” buzzes through the Pit, and Jacob Mephisto and Sean Boden step through, flanking the Monster, Sammy Rochester. The smaller men are in their usual black suits, with Sammy in a pair of black pants, staring straight ahead. Mephisto has a sly smile on his face, while Boden looks dead serious.

NR: Introducing first, at a combined weight of 950 lbs, Jacob Mephisto, Sean Boden, and Sammy Rochester, PARIAH!

MM: Once again, Pariah showing to be united as they enter here tonight. The addition of Sammy Rochester to their group has proven to be quite successful at keeping Mephisto and Boden together.

VA: Would YOU want to make Sammy mad? If you’re gonna team up with the beast, you damn well better make sure he’s kept comfortable.

The trio slowly walk down the ramp, keeping even with each other, before they hit the ring. Boden climbs the steps, as Mephisto climbs up onto the apron. He beckons for Sammy to come up, and the monstrous child climbs the apron and the ropes like a ladder, before stepping over the top rope. Sammy stands in their corner, as Boden and Mephisto start to dress down in preparation.

it seems strange that my life should end
in such a terrible place…

NOTHING and William West slither through the curtain to a crowd pop, looking ready for war.

NR: And their opponents, introducing first, at a combined weight of 493 lbs, NOTHING and William West, HATE!

The pair stay at the top of the ramp, as Pariah stares them down.

MM: NOTHING and West seem focused tonight, Vince.

VA: Yeah, focused on destroying Pariah. And rightfully so… after all this time, NOTHING and Mephisto have gone head to head and always to an unsatisfying conclusion. Maybe this will be the match, Malone…

MM: The match that what, Ashe?

VA: That somebody finally punches Mephisto’s smug face in.

MM: If it were just Mephisto, I’d imagine you might… but they’ll still have to get through the rest of Pariah.

Amon Amarth’s “Prediction of Warfare” starts to pound through the arena, and Ryan Cuddihy steps out, standing with his partners. He’s wearing the black full-face mask of the Enigma/Leviathan.

MM: But they’ve got a bit of help, Ashe.

NR: And their partner, from Las Vegas, NV, weighing in at 322 lbs, RYAN CUDDIHY!

NOTHING rubs his hands together, as Ryan and West each drag thumbs across their throats, before the trio make their way to the ring!

VA: HATE and Cuddihy may not be united per se, but they’re definitely united in purpose, Malone!

MM: And that purpose is the end of Pariah!

NOTHING and West slide under the bottom rope, and Mephisto and Boden immediately lay the boots into them! Juan Cardillo calls for the bell, as Ryan climbs onto the apron! Mephisto and Boden keep laying stiff shots to HATE, but Ryan grabs them both around their necks! Mephisto and Boden shake their heads as NOTHING and West get to their feet, but Ryan just nods!

But before he can pull the pair off their feet, Sammy SPEARS Ryan through the ropes! Ryan and Rochester hit the floor on the outside, and Mephisto and Boden catch their breath! NOTHING charges Mephisto, but Mephisto ducks him and slides out of the ring! NOTHING stops at the ropes, screaming at Mephisto over the top rope, but Cardillo backs him out of the ring! West tackles Boden, throwing punches at his face, until Cardillo breaks it up!

Boden gets to his feet, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth, and the pair circle each other. West goes to lock up, but Boden dodges. West goes once again, but Boden ducks him once again. West reaches once again, but Boden dodges– into a kick to the face from Crippler! Boden stumbles back, and West capitalizes with a pair of forearms to the face, before whipping him to the ropes! Boden ducks a clothesline, and West turns around just in time to dodge a spinning wheel kick! Boden hits the mat hard, and West drops a knee across his forehead! Boden rolls onto his back, and West drops to the mat, trying to hook him into the Bitchified, but Boden immediately swings a leg over the bottom rope!

VA: Good ring awareness from Boden saves this match from being over quickly!

Cardillo backs West off, and Boden gets to his feet again, only to have West charge in again! They lock up, and West uses the height advantage to push Boden to the corner! Cardillo gets between them, but Boden thumbs West in the eye, sidestepping, and heading straight to his corner, tagging in Mephisto! Rochester and Cuddihy have made it to their corners as well, and Mephisto steps in, ducking a wild swing from West!

Mephisto locks up, but West ducks into a rear waistlock! Mephisto drives an elbow into West’s head, staggering him, before turning and tossing West over his head with a belly-to-belly suplex! West hits the deck, immediately popping up to seated, and Mephisto drives a kick into his back! West rolls over, and Mephisto pulls him to his feet, driving a knee into his face before dropping him back with a neckbreaker! Mephisto covers!








TW– NOTHING with the breakup!

NOTHING kicks Mephisto in the side of the head, and before Mephisto can respond, Cardillo gets between them, pushing the Harbinger back to the outside! Mephisto turns to West– kick to the groin! Cardillo’s back was turned, and West took advantage! Mephisto drops to a knee, and West comes off of the ropes, slamming Mephisto’s head to his knee! Mephisto drops to his back, but he’s getting to his feet as West tags in NOTHING!

Mephisto smiles, immediately tagging in Boden!

MM: Oh, come on!

VA: Mephisto keeping up the mind games!

Boden shoots Mephisto a glare as he steps into the ring, and he and NOTHING circle, with Boden going on the offensive, charging NOTHING and tackling him to the mat! He starts to throw punches into NOTHING’s face, but the Purveyor swats his arms away, driving a headbutt up into his face! Boden staggers back to his feet, and NOTHING brings him down with a drop toe hold, leaping to his feet and dropping a senton across Boden’s back! Boden flops over, and NOTHING slides him under the bottom rope, catapulting him up! Boden crashes into the bottom rope, and Cardillo gets between them! Cuddihy drops off the apron as NOTHING argues with the ref, and he drives a MASSIVE elbow into Boden’s head!

NOTHING smiles as he pulls Boden back into the ring, getting him to his feet, and tossing him to the ropes! Boden comes back, ducking a clothesline, and hits a handspring, bouncing his legs off the top rope and into a cross-body– caught by NOTHING, who drops him into a backbreaker! NOTHING puts a foot on Boden’s throat as he points at Mephisto, and Cardillo gets to a four-count! He pulls Boden up, tossing him to HATE’s corner– and into West’s foot! Boden flops back into NOTHING’s arms, and he tags in Ryan! NOTHING drops Boden down to the mat, and Ryan picks up NOTHING in a military press! He tosses the Purveyor up, and NOTHING flattens Boden with a splash! Ryan puts a foot on Boden’s chest!












THR– Mephisto gets into the ring, and Ryan steps off, walking toward the corner!

MM: Incredible teamwork from HATE and Ryan Cuddihy, but Mephisto looking out for his teammate as well!

VA: The teammate that’s only in the ring so that he could duck NOTHING? Hardly, Malone.

Ryan turns around, and Boden slides out of the ring! Ryan steps over the top rope, ready to chase him, but Sammy Rochester steps off the apron, stomping over to his partner! Ryan gets back into the ring, pointing and yelling at the pair, before Boden slides into the ring, tagging in the monster himself!

West slaps Ryan on the back immediately! Ryan looks shocked as West jumps into the ring, to go toe to toe with Sammy Rochester!

William goes immediately on the offensive, driving kicks to Sammy’s legs! He throws three vicious shots directly to the upper thighs of Sammy, but Rochester LEVELS him with a massive clothesline! West flops to the mat, and Sammy kicks him in the gut, flipping him hard onto his back! West doesn’t even get time to breathe before Sammy pulls him up with two hands by his neck, throwing him roughly into the ropes! West hooks his arms on the top rope to keep on his feet, but Sammy grabs him by the head, yanking him off and tossing him across the ring! West puts his hand on the back of his neck, as Sammy CHARGES across the ring, crushing him with a HUGE knee!

VA: Good god, what was West thinking here?!

MM: Who knows if he even was, Vince?

Sammy deadlifts West up, dropping him down hard in a sloppy backbreaker! He drags West into the center of the ring, covering him with his mass for a pin!












THR– no! NOTHING CRUSHES Rochester with Pure HATE!

Rochester barely staggers, but the pin is broken! West tries to pull himself to his feet, as Cardillo pushes NOTHING back to the outside! Ryan is on the floor, and before Sammy can charge West once again, he grabs Rochester’s foot! Sammy turns around, and Ryan grabs his arm, jumping up to hotshot him across the top rope! Sammy stumbles back, holding his throat, and West DIVES into a huge chop block across the back of Sammy’s knee!


Sammy flops to his back, rattling the ringposts as West tries to crawl to his corner! Ryan gets up on the apron, along with NOTHING, and West reaches for one of them, either of them! Sammy is back on his knees, and he sees West trying for the tag! He grabs the Masochist by the leg, but West dives, tagging in Ryan! Sammy yanks West back just in time to get dropped by a huge lariat!

Sammy is shocked as he pops back up, but Ryan puts him down once again as West rolls under the bottom rope! Sammy gets back to his feet with an evil grimace, and Ryan tries for clothesline number 3– but to no avail! Sammy shrugs it off with a primal yell, and flattens the Enigma! He pulls Ryan up to his feet, and off of them, into a bear hug! Ryan responds by boxing Sammy’s ears, but Sammy ignores it! Ryan tries it again, and finally gets Sammy to drop him, before pulling him up in return, and planting him back down with a HUGE spinebuster!

Ryan pulls Sammy to his feet, whipping him to Pariah’s corner! Sammy hits the turnbuckle with a crash, and tags in Boden!

Boden scowls as he gets into the ring, as Mephisto smiles, and he ducks a clothesline from Ryan, stopping short, and diving back with a standing moonsault! Ryan turns around, the surprise attack from Boden putting him on the mat! Boden rolls up, and goes back to the ropes, sliding under the bottom and slingshotting himself over the top with a rolling shoulder drop! He hits the ropes again, coming back with a flying hurricanrana– no! Turned into a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker from Cuddihy! Boden flops to the mat, and Mephisto steps through the ropes!

Before Cardillo can push him out, NOTHING sails across the ring! PURE HATE! Mephisto gets knocked through the ropes to the outside! Cardillo gets between them again, and NOTHING is livid! He pushes Cardillo out of the way and FLIES over the top rope with a Suicide Bomb plancha! Mephisto gets crushed to the floor, and NOTHING starts to drive elbow shots directly to his eyebrow and nose!

But Sammy Rochester is there! He pulls NOTHING off, throwing him chest-first into the ring steps! The top half clatter to the floor, as does the Purveyor! Sammy helps Mephisto to his feet!

In the ring, though, Boden is trying to get to his feet, and Ryan clobbers him from behind with a clothesline to the back of the head! As Boden rolls to his back, Ryan grabs him by the throat, lifting him up into the air!

MM: Mjolnir! Cuddihy nailed him with that two-handed chokeslam!

Ryan straddles across Boden’s back, wrapping his arms in his knees, locking him in the Bifrost! Boden screams in pain, and looks across the ring at Mephisto and Sammy, still on the outside! Sammy is making sure Mephisto is OK, while Mephisto checks his nose!

VA: So much for unity! Mephisto’s ignoring his own partner!

MM: Are you sure he even realizes what’s going on?

VA: You can hear Boden screaming in the cheap seats, Malone!

Before Mephisto can get a chance to save Boden, NOTHING flies into the ring once again, crushing BODEN with the Pure Hate! Boden’s body goes limp, and Ryan drops him to the mat, tagging in West! West looks down at Boden, shaking his head, and kicks him in the back of the skull! He looks at NOTHING, then at Ryan, and shrugs, wrapping him up in the Bitchified!

Now, Sammy goes to charge the ring, but NOTHING and Ryan are ready for them! Mephisto puts his hand up, keeping the Monster Child at bay! Cardillo checks on Boden, but he’s unconscious! He calls for the bell!

NR: Your winner, by submission, Ryan Cuddihy and HATE!

MM: What was that all about, Vince?! Why call the Monster off before the match is over?

VA: The match was over already, Malone! Boden’s out! All they would’ve done by getting in the ring now was getting themselves hurt or DQed!

MM: Instead they left Boden out to dry!

VA: Don’t tell me you think that’s a BAD thing?!

MM: No, I just–

(The dust is settling from the six-man tag team match as The Purveyor rolls out of the ring. Mephisto and Sammy are already walking to the back, as medical staff comes to attend to Boden. NOTHING steps over toward the announcers and grabs the microphone from Nikki Rogers. He takes a look around the arena and toward the men with whom he just did battle as William West joins him by his side. NOTHING raises the mic to his mouth and begins to speak.)

NOTHING: Mephisto, you want to play games? You want to stand here and talk about how violent and disgusting and immoral you’re going to be at Champions Summit just to announce a Pure Wrestling Match?

(He chuckles, rubbing the stubble along his jaw with his free hand.)

NOTHING: That’s fine, Jacob… that’s more than fine. What you don’t understand is that I’m past the point of no return with you, my friend. There hasn’t been a single opportunity where I’ve actually had you one-on-one, man to man. We chained ourselves together and things still couldn’t be settled because you had to call in yet more reinforcements.

So, let’s just throw the surprise of someone interfering in our battles right out the window, shall we?

You want to wrestle me, and I get that. More tricks from the master, right?

Well, I’m done with tricks. I’m done with games. I’m too sick and tired of dealing with you to make this anything but what it has to be, Mephisto… and it has to be finished.

So, after I pin you in the center of the ring in the first fall? I’ll pin you anywhere I please in fall number two and take this thing in two straight falls.

So call your cavalry, Jacob. Call on whatever deplorable, spineless dirtbags you have crawling the streets when we get to Champions Summit. Bring ‘em all, on Jacob, and let them watch me humiliate you and finally put this thing to rest up close and personal… in a falls count anywhere match!

(NOTHING tosses the mic into the air allowing it to twist and turn before landing with a thump on the arena floor. He grins toward Mephisto who glares down at The Purveyor before the two Pillars of HATE make their exit over the railing and through the crowd.)


MM: Folks, I’ve just gotten word from our production truck…

VA: We have a production truck?!

MM: We have three of them actually…maybe pay attention the next time we have all-staff meetings?

VA: Nah, everything I need to know about this company comes in the form of my bi-weekly paychecks.

MM: We get paid weekly…

VA: Son of a bitch! I knew I was being screwed!

MM: Anyways, I just received word from our producer in the truck that Azrael Goeren has just arrived at the building…

VA: Wow, and only a few minutes before his match. Way to be a professional you meth-addicted German sausage!

MM: Apparently the front office has ordered EWA security to meet him at the back door and escort him down to his dressing room before his match tonight.

VA: Pretty smart considering the last two shows he’s been an absolute wreck. A huge embarrassment to everyone here in EWA. Especially his poor daughter. Its horrible that our beloved God Queen and World Champion has to share a last name with that junkie.

MM: We’ve seen a disturbing change in attitude from Azrael since Donovan King’s shocking appearance…it seems that King’s mere presence has reverted Goeren back to his more…let’s just call it “carnal” behaviors.

VA: Dude relapsed, plain and simple. Couldn’t hack it with the big boys so he turned to sweet sassy white candy cane and good ol’ biker’s coffee.

MM: …is that even slang?

VA: It is now. Cause I said it.

MM: Let’s go to to the back and see if we can intercept Azrael before he heads out for his match…

(The camera quickly cuts backstage here at “The Pit” as backstage reporter Allison Haines moves briskly past a few backstage employees, half-addressing the camera and motioning with her free hand for people to move out of the way.)

Allison Haines: I hope everyone can hear me okay, I’m headed down to the backstage entrance right now and hopefully we can get a word with Azrael…

(Allison stops dead in her tracks as half a dozen black shirted EWA security guards stand around in a semi-circle as Azrael Goeren nonchalantly enters the building. He’s all smiles tonight, his blonde hair slicked back and he’s wearing a mesh tank top with a pair of “Juicy” neon pink sweatpants. He reaches down the front of his pants, causing Allison to recoil in horror only for him to pull out a backstage access pass. He proudly flaunts it in each security guard’s face as he walks by them.)

Azrael Goeren: Multi-pass. MUL-TI-PASS. Leeloo Dallas, Multi-pass!

(Cackling with delight, Azrael huffs his duffle bag over his shoulder as the security guards reluctantly encircle the demented German Megastar and lead him towards his locker room. Allison quickly pushes past them to try and start an interview but she’s suddenly shouted down by an extremely excited Azrael who spots her on his periphery.)

Azrael Goeren: Oh thank God it’s you Allison. Now we can get this all security-guard gangbang started! I call fifths! I like to have a bit of mess going before I get started. Just my thing. Or thang, as the kids these days call it. You got any kids? Want some? Nah, that was a joke. Unless you really do want some. Cause I can make that happen. With my penis. Or my connection in Columbia. I’m like your blue-skinned Genie, just without the auto-erotic asphyxiation fetish. That’s a lie, got that too. Mein Gott, this whole place is like an underground sex hovel! You ever been to one of those? I owned one briefly, back in Las Vegas. Penn & Teller kept showing up though, totally ruined the vibe in there. Can’t get a full erection when magicians are around, that’s why David Blaine and I stopped hanging out. So what’s shakin?

(Azrael is talking a mile a minute, clearly under the influence of a variety of uppers and speed. He wipes his mouth with his arm as his dilated eyes pounce from one side of the room to another.)

Allison Haines: Mr. Goeren…

Azrael Goeren: HERR Goeren.

Allison Haines : Herr Goeren…I just wanted to know what you are thinking in regards to your match tonight against Sahara and also if you plan on addressing Donovan King’s challenge for The Champions Summit in July?

(Azrael holds up his hands to stop his entourage of security, smiling broadly at Allison. He reaches out to touch her face but she quickly slaps it away with disgust. Azrael laughs it off and tilts his head to the side.)

Azrael Goeren: Hard to get, hmm? I like that. Listen, as far as tonight goes, what happens to Sahara in there is nobody’s fault but her own. A girl like her needs to have more respect for herself instead of just living her life from man to man or sybian to jack rabbit. Allow her Megastar to teach her some self respect tonight and remind the world just how amazing their Sensation Not From This Nation truly is.

(Goeren’s smile vanishes.)

Azrael Goeren: And as for Herr King…and his so-called “challenge”. I think he needs to learn from history. He says that I ruined his life and helped destroy that pathetic organization called the SHOOT Project…but any promotion that signs Donovan King is doomed from the start. I didn’t fuck up his career…it was already well-fucked by the time I got to it. But hey, I’m the type of man who looks on the bright side of things. Without King, I wouldn’t have rediscovered what it means to be…me.

(The smile returns as Azrael starts walking again.)

Azrael Goeren: Luckily for Herr King, I’ve always been a man of the people. He wants me at the Champions Summit? Well he’s fucking got it…and I hope he’s watching tonight because he’s going to see what the Azrael Goeren of old can do all over again.

(Turning and motioning for security to follow him, Azrael suddenly stops and looks directly into the camera.)

Azrael Goeren: And remember kids, we’ve got over 10 brand new and officially licensed Azrael Goeren t-shirts up on tonight! Use the promo code “SAHARABITCH” and receive 5% off your entire order! No need to get your parents’ permission, buy now!

(With another smile, Azrael turns and heads towards the locker rooms to get ready for his match as Allison simply shrugs at the camera and sends it back to ringside.)


MM: Up next, two Warriors who are experiencing their own personal wars are scheduled to face one another.

VA: Natalie Burrows as the bad luck of being in Cronos Diamante’s crosshairs, and he will probably have her buried in an unmarked grave in the coming days. Weirdo McRedhead is battling some drunk, and I can’t be bothered to care about all that.

MM: Well, I’d say the Rachel Ellsworth and Ethan Leers battle is a bit more interesting than that, but either way, Ellsworth and Diamante is up now!

Heavy guitar riffs boom over the Public Address system as “Monster” by Skillet floods the arena. As the lyrics smoothly blend into the music, Cronos Diamante emerges from the entrance way sporting his usual combat boots and leather pants. Purple pyrotechnics shoot into the air as Cronos passes through them and makes his way to the ring, ignoring the fans and not taking his eyes off the ring.

NR: The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL! Making his way to the ring, weighing in tonight at TWO-HUNDRED and NINETY POUNDS…CRONOS…DIAMANTE!

He ascends the steel steps slowly and once on the outside of the ropes quickly enters the ring and makes his way to his neutral corner where he throws a few lefts and rights followed by fierce elbows and hops up and down before cracking his neck to the left and right.

VA: Poise, focus, and brutality is what we are looking at. Rachel Ellsworth is going to get DESTROYED.


The overhead lights dim as spotlights in shades of orange and red swirl over the crowd, the monologue of Doctor Death-Defying laying itself velvet-smooth over the building of ambient noise that may or may not have been piped from some sort of high-tech future world. As it gathers momentum, the energy in the arena builds, cheers rising up to fill the air in anticipation of the woman that’s about to come out.


As ‘Na Na Na’ by My Chemical Romance properly starts, the Atomic Redhead all but zooms out from behind the curtain, energy levels turned all the way up to eleven as she scampers from one side of the stage to the other. It’s impossible to hear what she’s shouting at the crowd, but mercifully for the production guys in the back? In her hand is, oddly enough, a cheese grater.

NR: And his opponent, weighing in tonight at ONE-HUNDRED and FIFTY-ONE pounds…THE ATOMIC REDHEAD…RACHEL…ELLSWORTH!

She doesn’t linger on the stage for long, instead choosing to run down the ramp. If she remembers to reach out and smack the hands of the fans, then hey neat. If not? No biggie–as soon as she slides beneath the bottom rope and pops up to her feet? She’s making a couple laps of the ring, almost poinging like a ferret during a war dance before finally settling in her corner, the music fading as she does a rudimentary stretch or two.

MM: I wouldn’t underestimate this young lady right here, Vincent. Cronos definitely has the strength and weight advantage, but Ellsworth has crazy speed and extensive knowledge on joint locks. Not quite sure what is up with the cheese grater, but I think Diamante will have his work cut out for him.

As David Tucker check to see if both competitors are ready, suddenly the guitar riff of “Fuck Everything” by Suicide Silence kicks in. The crowd boos as Ethan Leers emerges from the back, grinning down at the ring. Rachel glares at him. Cronos seems unaffected. David Tucker calls for the bell, and Diamante is quick to charge in and slam Rachel while she is distracted. Ethan laughs as Diamante takes the advantage!

VA: Pay attention, ginger!

The opening of the match sees Cronos take advantage of the early distraction by keeping Rachel in close and taking advantage of his mat wrestling. He keeps the pace slow, following up big impact moves like suplexes and clotheslines with various headlocks and wristlocks. Rachel is able to land an elbow that gives her space to pick up speed with a Running European Uppercut. She holds the advantage, peppering the much larger Cronos with hit and run moves, eventually wearing him down and locking him in a standing armbar. Rachel is able to wrench on the arm hard, and it looks like she is going to cause some real damage, but Ethan Leers begins taunting her on the outside. She gets distracted and Cronos is able to break free, keeping Rachel in close and slamming her with an Exploder Suplex! Tucker admonishes Ethan, but Ethan sits down at ring side, acting like he did nothing.

MM: Leers proving to be too much of a distraction, and that seriously has costs Rachel Ellsworth.

VA: You can’t be dumb when you are up against a game opponent like Cronos Diamante, and Rachel Ellsworth is really dumb.

Cronos goes back to his original strategy, keeping Ellsworth in tight. He hits big moves, but makes sure to bridge often, keeping her close and in his grasp. Ellsworth is worn down by several shoulderlocks and moves that wear on the back.

MM: Cronos focusing heavily on the back, probably in an attempt to set up the Ne-Han.

At one point in the match, Cronos goes for a vertical suplex. Ellsworth is able to float over and counters with a bulldog takedown! Ellsworth grabs hold of Cronos’ arms on the ground and attempts to flip over, looking for the The Red(head) Death, but Cronos rolls at the right time and gets out of the hold. Cronos gets up and Ellsworth charges in, looking to hit a running move, but Cronos is quick with a punch. The move spins Ellsworth around, and Cronos locks in a Full Nelson.

VA: Here comes the Ne-Han!

Cronos looks to lift Ellsworth with the Full Nelson slam, but Ellsworth suddenly shifts awkwardly, dislocating her shoulder! There is a loud pop and the crowd responds with an audible “OOO!” With the dislocation, Ellsworth is able to slip out before the slam is hit, and she rolls out of the ring. Ellsworth looks up at Diamante, who looks a bit surprised. Ellsworth turns her attention to Leers, who is mockingly holding his arm and making a pained face. Ellsworth suddenly SLAMS her shoulder into the ring post, popping her shoulder back into place!

MM: Wow! It is a well known fact that almost NO ONE escapes the Ne-Han, so Ellsworth had to escape the slam before he could lock in the move!

VA: That was a desperate and stupid move, Malone. Try to at least pretend to be unbiased. No way she is able to continue to perform.

Ellsworth gets in the ring, but Cronos attacks as soon as she is in the ring. Cronos locks in a waist lock and looks for a German Suplex, but Rachel is able to flip through and land on her feet! Cronos scrambles to get up, but Rachel catches him with a baseball slide dropkick! She scrambles back up quickly, clearly favoring her formerly dislocated shoulder, but is still able to lock in Diamante’s arms and lock in The Red(head) Death! The crowd pops loudly as Cronos scrambles. He is unable to get the leverage, so he extends his feet to try and get the ropes, but he is just inches away. Tucker asks Diamante if he wants to quit, but Diamante refuses! The cheers turn to boos, though, as Leers sneaks forward. Tucker doesn’t see him, as he is busy checking to see if Cronos wants to tap. Ethan grabs a hold of Cronos’ foot and pulls them back just the few centimeters need to get the foot on the rope. Tucker looks over and sees the ropes, so he forces Ellsworth to release the hold.

VA: Oh thank god, I don’t know if I could live in a world where Rachel Ellsworth has a win over Cronos Diamante.

MM: That was bogus. Leers just stole the match from Ellsworth.

Rachel looks incredibly disappointed, but she isn’t entirely certain what happened. She sees Leers away from his seat, laughing at her. She yells down at him, exchanging profanities. She does not see Cronos stand behind her, angry. Before Ellsworth knows what is going on, Cronos has her in a Full Nelson, transitioning into a Full Nelson Slam! Cronos floats over…

MM: There is the Ne-Han, locked in tight!

Ellsworth tries to stretch her feet back for the ropes, but she isn’t anywhere close. Ellsworth tries to fight off Diamante, but not only is the Ne-Han a nearly never escaped hold, but Diamante is also bigger by around one-hundred and forty pounds, so he is able to drive Ellsworth to the ground with his weight. Ellsworth fights for a moment longer, but when she realizes the hopelessness of the situation, Rachel taps out!

NR: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner by submission…CRONOS…DIAMANTE!

The crowd boos, feeling the Atomic Redhead was robbed. Cronos releases the hold, forcefully tossing Rachel down. He snickers down and has his hand raised, exiting the ring quickly, not bothering to interact with any of the fans and their booing. Rachel stirs, clutching her formerly dislocated arm in pain. The crowds boos get louder as Ethan Leers enters the ring, a chair in hand. David Tucker admonishes Leers, but he is afraid to get involved. Ethan waits for Rachel to get up. He runs forward, going to destroy Rachel with the chair, but Rachel dodges! Ethan turns in time for Rachel to Van Daminator the chair into his face! Leers goes down hard, and the crowd goes from boos to cheers!

MM: Can’t say he didn’t deserve that.

VA: Cronos won. I’m no longer interested.

Rachel looks down at Leers, who clutches his nose in pain. She then looks over at the cheese grater she brought to the ring. Rachel walks over and picks it up, waiting for Ethan to get up. When Ethan is standing, Rachel dashes forward and CRACKS him in the head with the grater! Ethan drops down to his knees, blood instantly pouring. Rachel grabs Ethan by the hair and places the grater against his forehead, grinding away as Ethan groans in pain! Rachel stops and throws Ethan down on the mat. She holds the bloody cheese grater up in the air, as if it was a title belt, and the crowd erupts in cheers.

MM: Well, Ethan may have cost Rachel the match, but Rachel seems to be the one standing tall at the end of everything. I think it may be safe to say this war isn’t over yet.

VA: Do I want pizza or Thai food tonight?


(We cut backstage and find one man in search of Alexander Haven’s Golden Ticket. He is opening doors, taking a look inside. He picks up a trash can and empties its contents on the floor, digging through half eaten bagels and other garbage.

This man is desperate to find the best chance he has got to receive a match with Haven at Champion’s Summit.

He is the most refreshing man alive.


Joe Lemon: Aw, shucks! It’s gotta be here somewhere!

(He kicks the trash can and immediately regrets it, hurting his foot in the process. He silently berates himself before opening another door, stepping back with a look of shock on his face.)

Joe Lemon: Oh! Sorry! I didn’t realize anyone was in here!

(A man steps out, glaring menacingly at the Sultan of Sour.

He leans on a silver tipped Singapore Cane, recovering from the beating he had taken two weeks prior.

The fangs on his mask seem to glisten, as if bared and dripping with saliva.

William West is not pleased with the interruption.)

William West: You didn’t know anyone was in here? Yet you just tried to barge right in?

Joe Lemon: Sorry, my man! It’s just, you know. The Golden Ticket.

William West: What’s that, Charlie Bucket?

Joe Lemon: You didn’t hear? The boss has hidden a contract he’s calling the Golden Ticket somewhere in the arena! The finder gets a championship match at Champions Summit!

William West: And you think he would hide it inside any door marked HATE?

(Lemon takes a closer look at the door. Sure enough, the emblem for the Pillars of HATE is front and center.)

Joe Lemon: Yeah, I didn’t see that. I for SURE wouldn’t have opened it if I had known-

William West: That hell was waiting beyond it?

(West’s grip tightens on his Cane, and Lemon gulps in fear.)

Joe Lemon: Why don’t we look for it together?

(Lemon could kick himself, but the words slipped out before he could stop himself.)

William West: Together?

Joe Lemon: Yeah, I should have thought better of that.

William West: You realize I’m about to be in a fight with two monsters and a snake right?

Joe Lemon: I was only thinking-

William West: What. Were. You. THINKING?

(Lemon backs up as West advances. The threatening tone has Joe afraid for his well being, but stupidly, he keeps talking.)

Joe Lemon: Maybe we can both find it and claim it together? Or… or we could wrestle for it?

(West leans in, his breath stinking in Lemon’s face as he shudders in fear.

Suddenly, West straightens up. His tone does a one eighty, changing to something light and cheerful.)

William West: Yeah, sure. Let’s do this, man.

(Lemon breathes a sigh of relief.)

Joe Lemon: Alright! Between the two of us, that contract doesn’t stand a chance!

(Lemon ducks underneath West’s outstretched arm and trudges on.

The corners of West’s mouth peek above the top of his mask, unmistakably grinning. His eyes shine with a greed not seen in him for some time.

They say one word.)



NR: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Chicago Illinois, the Crimson Queen … Saharaaaa!

In This Moment’s ‘Adrenalize Me’ hits the PA as Sahara emerges onto the rampway, eliciting surprising cheers in light of her recent turn against Indrid Calder and her scathing words about the God Queen, Grace Goeren. The former Fallout member steps front and center on the stage as the music kicks in and bright white light bathes the stage. Rudimentary rows of Nordic style braids tie her platinum blonde hair back, which contrasts with her new black and silver attire. Black wrestling boots blend into knee pads of like color which blends into black and silver full-length tights, the name Sahara down the side of each leg. It’s rounded off with a strappy black top and the words ‘False God’ emblazoned down the front of her boots in silver lettering.

MM: And a message no doubt meant for Grace Goeren herself…

VA: Wonderful. The Crimson Queen of Vanity returns, Malone…Good Grace she’s annoying.

Sahara suddenly charges down the rampway and slides beneath the bottom rope, slowly pushing her upper body off the mat as she comes to a stop.

VA: Hopefully Azrael finishes the job his daughter started weeks ago when she made this sexually transmitted disease swallow the only reason she’s still around…

MM: Are you referring to her ability to talk?

VA: Hey, it’s not like I invented these rumors, Malone. We all saw that ‘Employee Review’ a few months back…I’m sure her well documented ability to swallow mics came in handy…

MM: Does Grace feed you these lines?

VA: No comment.

NR: And her opponent, hailing from Eberswalde Germany, Azrael Goereeennn!

The arena lights dim as the opening chords of “Sieben” by Subway to Sally blare over the loudspeakers, the fan reaction audibly mixed as the video screen crackles to life with a revolving pair of gold letters: A.G. A massive red and gold explosion ignites the stage in momentary light as Azrael Goeren roars out from the back slightly spinning with his arms lifted in the air. Azrael is dressed in in usual tight black leather pants along with a mesh top and bright red boots. He flashes a trademark smirk and blows kisses to each side of the arena before slowly making his way down the ramp, clearly in no hurry to get to the ring.

Pointing toward Sahara, he can be heard repeating, “Müll … genau da. Nichts als Müll.” to which she merely shrugs, not understanding a word he says. Her hands rest on the top rope, waiting for him to get to the ring.

VA: I believe he was calling her common trash. He’s smarter than he looks.

MM: Interesting how you just happen to agree with him now that he’s going against Sahara…if that’s what he said.

As he approaches the ring, red and gold glitter begins to fall from the rafters as Sahara looks up at it while Azrael yawns in the middle of his overproduced entrance. He finally makes it to ringside but stops and rests his hands on his hips, as if observing his opponent.

MM: Looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

VA: Probably up all night worrying about having to touch this walking infection…that’s the thing I’d be worried about.

MM: Would you stop?

VA: Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, but I have it on good authority that the EWA is instituting new testing measures to make sure preventable diseases aren’t spread around the locker room and word has it she failed so badly, they suspended Michael Draven by proxy. It’s called the Sahara exam.

MM: None of that’s true, fans. Not one word.

VA: Then where is he?!

MM: You know damn well he was injured by Indrid Cald–ya know what, I’m not doing this with you. I’m not selling this anti-Sahara agenda of yours for Grace. And if you want to discuss testing, they should start with that man right there, Azrael Goeren.

Saying something to Rick Iley, Sahara laughs as she leans back against the ropes, waiting for Azrael Goeren to finally start climbing the ringside steps. Her jovial attitude toward Rick Iley is a long way removed to the animosity once showed during her Fallout days. Waving her back from the ropes, Azrael takes one step up and pauses again, once again eliciting a laugh from the Crimson Queen.

MM: Taking a page out of Sahara’s book, for those that may not remember, these overly long entrances were once her bread and butter.

Finally stepping onto the ring apron, the elder Goeren once again waves Sahara away as he slowly steps through the ropes eliciting cheers from impatient fans. Checking on Azreal, Rick Iley steps back holding up his hands as the German backs him away with the aloud proclamation of, “Nein! Mir geht es gut!”

Shrugging in response, Rick Iley makes motion toward the timekeeper who rings the bell as Sahara instantly bounces with a spring in her step, slowly circling her opponent, who watches her closely.

MM: And here we go!

Moving in to lock up, the crowd boos as Azrael suddenly drops to the canvas and rolls out of the ring, causing Sahara to completely miss.

VA: Hope she likes a taste of her own medicine…remember when she used to do this exact same thing to all of her opponents?

MM: Unfortunately, I do…but she seems to have kept a sense of humor about it since she’s laughing over it.

Motioning Azrael back into the ring, the tired looking German merely waves her off as he seems content to carry on a conversation with some of the fans ringside who appear to dislike his delay tactics. Moving Rick Iley out of the way, the blonde suddenly dances in place as if timing her move, she charges off the ropes and leaps clear over the top rope and collides with Azrael, sending both into the barricade!

MM: Woah! Suicide dive by the reckless one! That got his attention!

VA: She’s taking far too many risks, Malone…that probably hurt her more than it hurt him!

Stumbling to his feet in anger, Azrael reaches down into his boot…

MM: He’s searching for something…he’s got something!

Tackling Azrael against the barricade, Sahara wrenches his arm, trying to wrestle something from him.

MM: He’s got a can of som–that’s mace!

VA: Azrael up to his old tricks…there’s no way she can overpower him here.

Grabbing a fistful of her braids, Azrael wrenches her head back as she finds a way to knock the can of mace from his hand, sending it beneath the ring. Grabbing her by an arm, he yells something about “Kranker Müll” as he spins to gain momentum and sends her shoulder first into the ringside stairs which rings with an echoing thud.

VA: Someone needs to remind this idiot this is an American show.

Lifting her up, Azrael backs her up and once again sends her into the stairs, knocking them off kilter with a clang.

Iley abruptly exits the ring and stands between them, ordering Azrael back into the ring.

MM: Jesus, first she suicide dives into him, then he slams her into the stairs twice…oh man, that’s blood on the steps!

VA: Call the hazmat team, Malone, Sahara is bleeding! Nobody. Touch. Anything!

As Sahara rolls over, blood soaks the braids on the side of her head as Azrael pushes past Iley and grabs her. He suddenly lets go and looks at his hand, wiping her blood off on her top with a disgusted look on his face. He puts his boot on the side of her neck and shoves her away eliciting a chorus of boos.

Rolling back into the ring, Rick Iley follows him, only to watch as the German rolls right back out of the ring ordering Iley to stay put and do his job. Reaching into his trunks, Azrael pulls out a pair of latex gloves and slowly pulls them on as Sahara grabs hold of the ring apron, pulling herself up.

MM: Oh, come on…

VA: Talk about veteran presence…he knew he’d need protection with this one–

MM: STOP, ASHE…just STOP! We don’t need more rumors spreading about the poor girl.

Rick Iley throws his hands up and begins the ten count, many in the crowd count along with the referee.






Reaching down, Azrael once again grabs hold of her blood soaked braids — Sahara suddenly LAUNCHES forward and runs Azrael back first into the ring post as the fans cheer the collision! As Azrael collapses to the floor, Sahara grabs hold of the post to hold herself up, feeling the side of her head where she’s cut open.






As Azrael wobbles to his feet, Sahara suddenly clasps him, hooking his leg, gritting her teeth, she lets out a scream — EXPLODER SUPLEX ON THE OUTSIDE!

MM: WOAH! I can’t believe she got him over!






The fans at ringside cheer as Sahara crawls her way up the barricade, she stumbles across and rolls into the ring and immediately rolls back out, resetting Iley’s count. Pulling the ringside steps parallel with the ring, she once again grasps Azrael and hooks his leg!






MM: She’s gonna go for another exploder onto the stairs!

VA: If she hits this, I hope Iley disqualifies the cheating bitch!






As the fans rabidly cheer, she lets out a scream and lifts, Azrael kicks out his free leg, NO! Unable to lift him, she tries again! Counter! Azrael yanks his leg free and knees her in the gut, wrenching her up into a powerbomb position, he lifts — SAHARA SWINGS THROUGH AND LANDS ON HER FEET, SHE SHOVES HIM BACK INTO THE RING POST!






Backing up, she puts some distance between them and charges forward, leaps onto the stairs and launches herself off, sandwiching Azrael between herself and the ring post! Falling to his knees, Sahara rolls away holding her stomach in pain as Azrael somehow remains balanced, wobbling on his knees!






MM: Azrael’s getting a bit more action than he expected here!

VA: Sahara’s unsafe, Malone…she not only puts herself in danger, but anyone she wrestles as of late, it’s clear she’s lost without Grace’s guidance.

MM: And they say Sahara has a reality distortion field…






Finally getting back to her feet, Sahara grabs Azrael and rams him back first into the ringpost with a running knee, nearly collapsing her on top of him. Shoving herself off of him, she does it again, this time Azrael falling sideways from the impact!






MM: Azrael seems out of it, Ashe…he entered this match clearly not ready for what Sahara’s become…

VA: You mean batshit crazy?! Grace has been telling us this for months!

Grabbing Azrael by the shirt, Sahara slowly wrestles him up, rolling him onto the ring apron and shoves him beneath the bottom rope!






As she’s about to climb into the ring, she stop and lifts the ring apron, pulling out Azrael’s lost can of mace! Holding up it, the crowd cheers! Rick Iley leans over the top rope immediately warns her against using it!

MM: Don’t do it!


Looking from the crowd to the can of mace, she looks back out toward the crowd who simply cheers even louder!

VA: Come on, Iley, 8 … 9 … 10! She’s still on the outside! Ring the bell, this one should be over!

Looking at Azrael’s face, which is right in front of her, Sahara shakes her head and tosses the canister of mace up to Iley before reaching beneath the bottom rope and rolling Azrael further into the ring! Jumping up onto the ring apron, Sahara suddenly begins climbing the turnbuckles bringing the fans to their feet!

MM: She’s gonna go for it!

VA: Get the hell outta there you drugged up German asshole! You’re disgrace to the Goeren name if you lose this to HER!

With each turnbuckle she climbs, the arena seems to get louder! Perched on the top rope, she closes her eyes and leaps!!!


VA: NO! NO! NO, NO, NO!!!

Rolling through from the impact of the move, Sahara slowly begins crawling back toward Azrael. Reaching out, she grabs him by the back of the shirt and yanks him onto his back, further away from the ropes! Crawling on top of him, she hooks the leg and rolls into a pin, the entire audience counting along!



















VA: What have you done, Azrael?!

NR: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match via pinfall — SAHHHARRAAAAAAA!

MM: Sahara beat Azrael Goeren!

VA: We can see that, Malone!

MM: The only man that has EVER pinned your precious God Queen was just pinned by her former right hand!

VA: This did NOT happen! Tell me this didn’t happen!

MM: Oh, it happened, Ashe, it happened!

Getting to her knees, Rick Iley raises her hand as she holds her arms up!

VA: I can’t believe she allowed this to happen…

MM: Who?!

VA: Grace, of course…Grace works in mysterious ways.

MM: You live in denial, Ashe…and Azrael Goeren, I don’t even know what to say about Azrael Goeren anymore. He clearly wasn’t ready for this match…and the Crimson Queen capitalized.

VA: And don’t forget, Malone – the presence of Donovan King clearly looms over the head of Grace’s bastard father. He’s completely destroyed Azrael’s mind, and I love it!

MM: Let’s take you backstage!


(The camera cuts backstage to Alexander Haven’s office, where he’s sitting behind his desk doing some paperwork while, off to the side, we can see his wife, Alyssa Marie Haven, sitting on the plush leather couch in his office scrolling through her phone. The door to the office, slightly ajar, begins to open as we first see a white cast pushing the door open. Standing in the entrance to the office is “Perfection” Martin Robertson, dressed casually in a pair of blue jeans and a white ‘Perfection’ t-shirt. Alex briefly looks up from his papers before looking back down at them, not even looking at Martin while he’s talking…)

Alexander Haven: Marty! We didn’t think you were coming tonight! At least, we wouldn’t have blamed you for not wanting to come to this hellhole that the rest of us are in…

Martin Robertson: Ehhh… It didn’t feel right just sitting at home. Kinda boring just sitting on the sidelines, you know?

Alexander Haven: Nope. Come on in and sit.

(Martin shakes his head for a brief second, smirking at his mentor and the current World Heavyweight Champion. He walks over to the couch, where Alyssa stands up, hugging him and kissing him on the cheek before they both sit back down together on the couch: Alyssa on one end, and Martin on the other. Alex again glances up briefly before looking back down at his work.)

Alyssa Marie Haven: How are you feeling, Marty?

Martin Robertson: Ehhh… Arm’s healing fine, so I’m told. Not going to be out for six months with a hangnail like Morris. I’m ready to go whenever I need to. Plus, the tequila down here helps numb things a lot.

Alyssa Marie Haven: Well, it’s good to have you around. It’s not the same without you around as much as you used to be.

Martin Robertson: Thanks. I know I’m ready to start setting things right again. Speaking of which, I love what you did with the Golden Ticket idea, Alex…

(Alex pops his head up…)

Alexander Haven: Huh? Oh, yeah… That Golden Ticket idea was a great idea, huh?

Martin Robertson: Yeah, that’s what I just said. You think anyone else realizes that it’s completely bogus?

Alexander Haven: Please… half these people around here still think the Tooth Fairy is real, or that there’s some guy named Colonel Sanders that used to be a wrestler…

Martin Robertson: So what’s the plan for Champions Summit, then? Because I’ve got an idea for the main event that would make major bank…

Alexander Haven: Wait, hold up. You want me to fight Hank in the main event? No way that psychopath is getting near this title!

Martin Robertson: No, bank… not Hank. As in it’d make a lot of money. Cause you know I don’t have a match yet…

Alexander Haven: I didn’t know you needed a pain patch for a broken forearm, Marty. You sure you’re not as bitch as TyMo was with that thing?

(Martin looks at Alyssa, confused…)

Martin Robertson: Is he for real?

Alyssa Marie Haven: He’s just really distracted right now. Between all of the appearances as World Champion, reviewing all of Cameron’s paperwork regarding different legal avenues he’s looking at with Kage. He’s just really distracted, sweetie. Just cut him a little slack.

Alexander Haven: Slacks? That reminds me, remind me to pick up my suit from the dry cleaners when we get back to Boston. I’ve got that convention I’ll be at this weekend.

(Martin rolls his eyes, stands up and walks to the front of Alex’s desk, leaning down…)

Martin Robertson: I want a match for Champions Summit, Alex.

Alexander Haven: … But Doc Furman won’t clear you until four weeks after you’ve had the cast removed, which is after Champions Summit.

Martin Robertson: I’ll sign the waiver. But I don’t want just any match, Alex. I want a title match…

Alexander Haven: Well, you can’t do the tag titles since nobody wants to team with you… not even the Latino Powers. I could put you on the Network Title again…

Martin Robertson: No…

Alexander Haven: Combat title, then? I mean, I guess that might not be such a ba…

(Suddenly, in one swoop, Martin brushes all of the papers off of Alex’s desk down to the floor. Alyssa stands up at the commotion as Alex, pausing for a moment with his pen still in his right hand, finally looks up at Martin, who’s staring down at the seated World Heavyweight Champion.)

Alexander Haven: What the hell did you do that for? Now I’ve got to try and organize all of those again…

Martin Robertson: I want my shot at the World Heavyweight Title, Alex.

Alexander Haven: A wha…? World Title shot? But the belt is already with the Kings, Marty.

Martin Robertson: I should have been the one who beat Old Man Winter for the title that night, Alex, and you know it! But I played the part of good soldier, doing what was best for the team. And now what I think is best for the team is for me to get that shot at Champions Summit!

Alexander Haven: How is me beating you at Champions Summit best for the team?

(Martin stares at Alex…)

Martin Robertson: You beating me, now that’s almost as funny as these idiots running around for a stupid non-existent ticket!

Alexander Haven: I’m not joking, Marty.

Martin Robertson: And I’m not laughing, Alex. Ditching the Youth was about getting rid of dead weight. Tyler and Kage were dead weight, yet you still obsess over Kage like a high school girl trying to get a date with the captain of the wrestling team. The goal was to keep him away from the title, right?

(Alex is leaning over, picking up his papers..)

Alexander Haven: I’m already doing that, as you clearly already understand.

Martin Robertson: Then solidify it by putting me in the main event for the title.

(Alex slams his papers down into a pile on the desk before standing up and staring across his desk at Martin..)

Alexander Haven: You come barging in here, preaching about doing what’s best for the team. We did what was best for the team back in London by taking the title off of Old Man Winter. Now if you want to be so god damn preachy about ‘what’s best for the team’, then you need to realize that we DID what was best for the team. We agreed that we could only use so much leverage with the belt around your waist, so we put it around mine. That was a team decision, Martin! You and I wrestling at Champions Summit isn’t what is best for the team, Martin! What’s best for the team is making sure that I make it to Champions Summit as champion, and making sure that I LEAVE Champions Summit as champion. And if you don’t like that decision, then I suggest you take a team vote on what we should do, but I don’t think Michael is in any shape for a conference call at the moment!

Alyssa Marie Haven: GUYS!

(Both Alex and Martin turn towards Alyssa, who’s now standing closer to the two Kings, almost in between them…)

Alyssa Marie Haven: Marty, we get why you’re upset. We really do. But this isn’t the right time for it. Let’s get through Champions Summit first, then we’ll sit down and figure out what’s going on…

(Martin looks at Alyssa for a moment, before turning back at Alex, who still has a look of anger in his eyes. Martin turns back to Alyssa one more time, who smiles and nods at Martin. Martin sighs heavily, before slumping back into the chair behind him…)

Martin Robertson: Alyssa’s right. I’m sorry Alex. I’m just really frustrated right now… like I’m starting to feel like I’m getting lost in the shuffle of everything going on.

(Alex sits back down and starts to look at his papers again…)

Alexander Haven: It’s alright, kid. You all make mistakes every once in awhile…

(Alyssa shakes her head…)

Alyssa Marie Haven: We get it, Marty. We know that, after dispatching Grady once and for all, that you thought it was going to be this great weight lifted off your shoulders, allowing you to realize your full potential as one of the Kings of wrestling. We’ll get there, I promise. But for now, let’s just focus on getting through these next couple of weeks first.

Martin Robertson: Yeah, ok.

(Martin stands up, hugs Alyssa one last time before heading out the door. He stops for a moment, though,turning back in one last time.)

Martin Robertson: Hey, can I go plant a fake piece of paper somewhere, making someone think it’s the ‘Golden Ticket’?

Alexander Haven: Now why would I want fried chicken before my match? Is god damn Sanders here?

(Martin shakes his head at Alex, but looks back at Alyssa, who smiles at him one more time, before he leaves…)

Alexander Haven: Did Marty really think that he should get a title shot at Champions Summit?

(Alyssa sits back down on the couch…)

Alyssa Marie Haven: It’s really not a bad idea, Alex. Keeps the belt with the Kings… keeps Chris frustrated even more.

Alexander Haven: Ehhh….

Alyssa Marie Haven: Alex… Marty is one of the most useful options that you have at your disposal, you know that. I get why he’s so frustrated. Just… stay focused. We’ll get through this.

(Fade to ringside.)

(We are backstage again, and we have the seemingly random pairing of Joe Lemon and the Masochist of HATE. It seems this duo are still looking for Haven’s Golden Ticket. Lemon is still very Gung Ho, but West looks both bored and annoyed.)

William West: By far, you are the worst at looking for anything.

Joe Lemon: I’m sorry we killed so much time at catering! I needed a lemonade break!

(West rolls his eyes.)

Joe Lemon: Maybe it’s in there?

(Lemon points at a door.)

William West: I’m not going in there. Bad idea.

Joe Lemon: It’s probably in the least likely place! C’mon!

(Lemon pushes the door open.

There is a shrill, feminine scream. Followed by a loud crack.

Joe Lemon comes back out from the Women’s bathroom, rubbing a big red welt on his face.)

William West: Told you, idiot.

Joe Lemon: Boy, Allison was NOT thrilled to see me!

(West shakes his head in disgust. He nudges another door open with his foot. A mop falls out at his feet. West pokes his head inside.)

William West: Hey, Joe! I think I found it!

Joe Lemon: Y-yeah?!

William West: Yeah, it’s all… gold and stuff. Check it out.

(West steps out of the room and Lemon rushes in. West shrugs and SLAMS the door shut!)

Joe Lemon: Hey!

(West takes the mop and jams it hard at the crack of the bottom of the door, jamming it.)

William West: Sorry, Joe! But with everything with Maggie and then the salty twat Sahara, I guess you could say I’ve got some trust issues.

Joe Lemon: Hey, I think the door is stuck! Could you give it a push?

(West giggles.)

William West: Now, I think it’s time I find myself a Golden Ticket.

(West begins to whistle, twirling his Cane as he walks away. There’s a moment of silence, and then, from behind the jammed door…)

Joe Lemon: You know, I don’t think he’s gonna let me out. Hey! Lemon Pledge!

(We fade out.)

(The box that is set upon the bench of HATE’s locker room is of a familiar shape, even with the red silk draped over it.

Approaching in silence, Indrid reaches out-fingertips trembling just the teensiest bit, albeit not out of fear. The vibration is of a wave length being discovered, a resonance that only grows stronger once he snags that fabric and tugs it, coaxes it out of the way. What is revealed is a familiar possession of his, one that he thought he destroyed… but yet, there it sits.

The case he once smashed to bits in a show of fury after losing the EWA World Championship.

There’s not a single piece out of place, a missing fragment–though it has been transformed. The glass and the lacquered wood both now not only openly show where it was shattered, but those crevices and cracks have been celebrated. Gold glints from every place that pieces have been needed to be glued together, forming a chaotic lattice of precious metal that holds it all

Sitting within the case, where that title once lived, is a card emblazoned with the blood-red head of the Minotaur.

The handles are cool to the touch, the glass holding together as if it was never broken as he lifts it enough to retrieve the card. Opening it with one hand, knife-blue eyes skim over the words before he reads them aloud, feeling out the words.)

Indrid Calder: “Stop hiding the cracks in your foundation, Indrid. Embrace them. Flaunt them as new passageways for the unwary to get lost in. Remember, no one gets cut on soft edges.”

(Calder allows those spoken word to linger on his tongue. They taste of iron, almost like the bovine blood that was used to paint the initial ring canvas. He marvels at the Japanese artistry of the Kintsugi-repaired case.

Cracks made whole…

Blackened broken apertures sealed with gleaming metals…

A ruined thing resurrected.

Something about this sight speaks to Indrid on a personal level. Fissures can be celebrated? Vulnerabilities can be openly displayed? Foreign concepts to him. It’s almost like symbolism for the reclamation of long lost humanity…

His gaze returns to the sigil of the Minotaur. The maze deepens. The lengths of the labyrinth continue to tug at the cords of his mind, and possibilities twist and turn. Some sort of gloating game of vengeance from Draven? An old enemy seeking pounds of Stranger flesh?

A small part of him still thinks that Maggie might be reaching out, but he knows that is dead hope, and he must find a way to bury it before it putrefies inside of him.

The Minotaur remains a mystery.

And whoever it is still beckons from the center of the maze…)

VA: This just gets weirder and weirder, Malone. Almost like some infernal gift leading Calder deeper into the rabbit hole…but I’m wondering just what the hell he’ll find once he gets down there?

MM: I’m at a loss. It’s so surreal to see The Stranger in this role. He is usually the biggest HATE recruiter…always seeking to seduce and beguile, a cold-lit lantern drawing lost souls to the promise of the hive. But someone or something is drawing HIM in this time. Why? To what end?

VA: The answer lies in the center of the maze. All we can do is wait for the Spider King to find his way there…

MM: One thing we do now know for sure, ladies and gentlemen, is that the answer may lie in the center of the maze, but what lies in wait at Champions Summit III for the Stranger is something else entirely. We can now confirm that the match has been signed, and on July 14, 2017, live from the Staples Center in Los Angeles, California….Indrid Calder will go one-on-one with the former Banshee of HATE herself, Maggie McIntyre.

VA: And I can’t wait, Malone. Parents out there, put the kiddos to bed before this one, unless you’re okay with them seeing Calder crush Maggie’s skull in. It’s going to be a thousand times worse than it ever was for Michael Draven.

MM: I wouldn’t be so sure, Vincent. Thus far, Calder’s been reluctant to lay a hand on Maggie McIntyre…but at Champions Summit III, he’ll have no choice.

VA: It’s gonna be great, Malone.

MM: And speaking of the Banshee, let’s head up to the ring for our next contest!


Nikki Rogers: The following contest is scheduled for one fall!

VA: This is one I’m actually looking forward to!

MM: Maggie began her career here in the EWA as a giantslayer of sorts, but the one she couldn’t bring down is the monster she’s facing tonight!

VA: I was more looking forward to him actually getting a piece of her. He might rip her top off.

MM: And that’s the most action you’ll have seen in the last decade I’m sure.

I got two letters from you
Last words of the runaway
Your love was written so true
And now I can’t speak your name

The heavy opening drum beats of AFI’s “I Hope You Suffer” reverberate throughout the arena and the lights flicker in time to the beat as the Banshee of HATE, Maggie McIntyre, appears at the top of the rampway. Dressed in a tight black top, buckled corset and fishnets tucked into knee high boots, she begins to stride down the ramp, her long black hair bouncing as she moves.

VA: Pfft. No, I got to see Sahara deepthroat a mic like a month ago!

Nikki Rogers: Introducing first, from Albany, New York and weighing in at 157 pounds, she is the Banshee…MAGGIE MCINTYRE!

I faced destruction and you
Just killed me and walked away
I gave my heart to the cruel
Now, it will not beat again

She climbs into the ring, stepping through the ropes and raising fist to the roar of the crowd before shedding the leather jacket to the outside. Her music slowly begins to die down as she awaits her opponent…her former protector and fellow Pillar, the Titan of HATE…Cal Rayner.

it seems strange that my life should end
in such a terrible place…

You made a monster of me
Through all your wicked lies
Forever tortured by you
Abandoned at death’s door
Until I said no more

NR: And her opponent, from Dallas, Texas, weighing in at 420 pounds, he is the Titan of HATE…CAL RAYNER!!

MM: This is Cal Rayner’s first time inside the ring competing since he was viciously injured last year.

VA: And he moves just as slow now as he did back then. WE’RE AGING HERE, RAYNER. PICK UP THE PACE.

MM: Yeah, that’s really smart.

The man formerly called Dredd appears to a mixed reaction as his music hits. He slowly makes his way down the ramp at a slow pace as Disturbed’s “Monster” plays over the loudspeakers. Rayner makes his way to the ring, walking with a slight limp due to the heavy brace around one of his knees…his mask hiding whatever emotion he might be feeling. His chest, scarred and branded over and over with the word HATE on full display for those in attendance, but most especially for his former stablemate…the tiny little Banshee in the opposite corner.

He climbs the steps to the apron and steps over the top rope…lording his obvious size advantage over the much smaller Maggie McIntyre.

Referee David Tucker calls for the bell and this match is underway.

MM: And here we go! No one better to take down the house of HATE than a former Pillar!

VA: You mean no one better than a Pillar to destroy a traitor!

Neither of the former stablemates moves when the bell sounds, the two stare each other down for a few long moments before Rayner lurches forward as Maggie runs backwards, slingshotting off the ropes…only to slide between the giant’s legs with a magnificent baseball slide. He has only a moment to react before she kicks him from behind, right to the back of his braced knee! The Titan of HATE lets out a roar of pain before turning to try and catch the quickly little Banshee, but to no avail. Maggie knows her only chance of beating this mammoth of a man to bring him down and keep him down. She jumps to her feet, bouncing off the ropes yet again and her boot again makes contact with the Titan’s knee!

MM: Maggie’s starting out strong here, she knows his obvious weak point and she’s working it hard!

VA: What’s with two slides in a row? I mean, this isn’t baseball. You don’t wrestle in baseball.

Despite her speed advantage, it is only a matter of time before Rayner gets his hands on her and from his knees manages to slam her against the mat again and again. It takes a while for the Banshee to get her bearings after having the sense knocked out of her repeatedly, but when Rayner lifts her up one more time, Maggie manages to wiggle free and drop to the mat. The Titan grabs out for a rope and manages to pull himself back up to his feet before going after her. It’s a game of bulldog and bull…the two exchanging strikes here and there and it is all Maggie can do to try and avoid each one.

He catches her as she ascends the ropes, going for her famous Outlaw Star to knock him down again…before powerbombing her in the center of the ring and going for the pin. Maggie kicks out after two, much to Cal’s ire, but he holds her down again. Once more she kicks out at two!

VA: Glacial pace may have been an understatement when it comes to Rayner.

MM: There’s no deny the power behind those slams though! Maggie’s barely holding herself together. A literal David and Goliath here tonight!

A roar emanates from the Titan as he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up as he gets back to his feet and headbutts the Banshee! The daughter of Big Ed is bleeding from the force of that blow! She lets out her own war cry before quickly climbing the ropes and leaps onto the giant’s back, her slender arm tightening around Rayner’s neck like a fleshy noose.

She struggles to hold on, shrieking as he tries to grab her and pull her off. Rayner is a leviathan, letting out roars, but the Banshee is stuck fast…and cutting off his air flow. He tries to pull at her arms, but the lack of oxygen soon brings the giant down. He falls against the ropes, pinning Maggie against them as he begins to fade, but not without one more effort. Nothing short of a miracle is going to convince the Banshee to let go!

Referee David Tucker comes over, holding up Cal’s massive arm only to watch it fall. He repeats the motion before calling for the bell!

NR: Here is your winner, by submission…Maggie McIntyre!!

(It takes the efforts of David Tucker as well as a stage hand to pull the weight of Cal Rayner forward and free Maggie from her precarious position against the ropes. The Banshee’s blood has coated the right side of her face, what will be a black eye forming as well. A battle against even an old bull put out to pasture is never easy. She stands there, chest heaving with breath before pulling her arm from Tucker’s grasp and leans between the ropes to ask for a microphone.

The timekeeper gives her one and Maggie returns to the center of the ring.)

Maggie McIntyre: Just a few things to say to my former Pillars.

(She looks down at Rayner’s semi-prone form. It won’t be long before the giant is back on his feet. Maggie looks around the arena before her eyes stop on the rampway.)

Maggie: It was carnage that brought us all together and for a while guys, yeah…the House of HATE really was a home. I know I’m the Bad Decision Banshee, but for the love of fuck…why…WHY?!

(She screams her displeasure and guilt out at them, though she’s speaking to one man in particular. Maggie turns her attention back to the woozy Titan.)

Maggie McIntyre: Fuck it. You see him? You see Cal Rayner, the Titan of HATE? He’s never been anything different than he was now. He was a monster, a nightmare when I first met him and even now that he’s made me bleed…he’s still a monster. He’s constant. Pru…an indifferent ice beast who lets psychopaths play with his head. A monster. Even William West, my best friend in HATE is a goddamn monster. He’ll happily bleed himself dry and break every bone in his body if it means getting the job done.

(She moves, going to sit on the top turnbuckle to stay well out of Rayner’s way as he tries to regain his bearings.)

Maggie McIntyre: Each of us, in some way, has benefited from your touch, Indrid. You showed Cal he wasn’t just some old rape-y bastard. He could have a greater purpose than just drinking and whoring himself to death. You’ve been the touchstone for Pru’s sanity. You’ve even helped West…in some weird way, I’m sure. But for all that you’ve made us, including myself, better…you–

(Maggie pauses, looking back to the rampway, almost daring him to come out.)

Maggie McIntyre: You were perfect. An unfeeling snake of a man who let his claws sink freely under our skin and your poison was heaven, Spider King. I liked you as a monster. I understood the monster, I knew where I stood with the monster. But you changed, Indrid. You were right when you said it’ll be carnage that keeps us together, but unlike you…I’m not irrevocably changed for the worse. You’re a man now, Indrid. You’re not worthy of the Hive. I broke you and it’s time to destroy what can’t be fixed.

(She stretches out, a sly smile growing on her face.)

Maggie McIntyre: I’ve become the wrecking ball for the house of HATE…two Pillars down, two more to go. If I can bring down the Titan and the Purveyor, there is nothing on God’s green earth that can stop me from ripping the Masochist into pieces…or from crushing a spider under my boot.

(The tron flashes and sputters for a few moments, and a sudden image of the Spider King dominates the screen. His shroud hangs low across his features, face nothing but a hole given over to shadows. After a long moment…the knife-blue eyes lift to gaze at the Banshee in the ring.

His voice flits from the speakers in a serpentine hiss.)

Indrid Calder: My creation. My winged ravager…slicing through the hive just as you promised. I feel a great sense of pride in watching your work. When there is blood on those pallid hands…I see the part of you that I always relished most. I see the woman who delights in dancing in the dark. The woman who chases monsters…for the pure thrill of exploring the underbellies of the world. That dark scar tissue inside of you will always be there, Maggie. It is my lasting gift. That little dark slice of remembrance…and the Banshee that I helped to spread beautiful tattered wings.

(He pauses, looking downward.)

Indrid Calder: I suppose I was your Victor Frankenstein, Maggie. I let the lightning surge through you…and watched the pale moonflower monster climb up from the slab. But the most ironic part. The strangest part…is that you are my creator just as much as I am yours. I gave you claws. I showed you how to use your fangs and your fury. I created the monstrous parts of you…

(The head lifts, and the eyes pierce down to the Banshee in the ring.)

Indrid Calder: But it was you that created a man from a husk. It was you that played a reverse Victor Frankenstein…and called back humanity from a pile of charnel house dust. Perhaps you detest the flawed man I’ve become…but I am simply the product of my maker. I have a heartbeat that I cannot silence, and it is because I’ve spent so long listening to the sound of yours…

(A rueful smile crosses Calder’s lips. It’s equal parts grim and complicated.)

Indrid Calder: As creators…we must have the decency to put each other down.

Maggie McIntyre: And I will do just that at Champions Summit III, you bastard.

(The Banshee sneers up at the jumbotron before handing the microphone back to the timekeeper as she jumps down from the ropes. Cal Rayner is a little too upright for her liking and she leaves him in the ring as he glares at her walking back up the rampway.)


(The camera cuts to the office of one Alyssa Marie Haven… though the owner of said office is nowhere to be found. That suits Rachel Ellsworth just fine, though, since such means that she’s not going to be interrupted. A cheap camping stove has been placed atop the paperwork, with a beat-up skillet positioned over that. Judging by the butter bubbling away in the skillet, the Atomic Redhead’s got the heat turned up just right for the slice of bread that she lays in the pan.)

Rachel Ellsworth: Okie dokie, got that goin’… and next we add…

(Her tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth as she reaches into a baggie that’s out of sight thanks to how she’s sitting in Alyssa Marie’s chair. What she sprinkles onto the bread looks like cheese, at first–but the flecks of blood make it clear that she’s got shavings off of Ethan Leers’ body.)

Rachel Ellsworth: And now… this should melt like Velveeta.

(A pause; her head tilts to one side.)

Rachel Ellsworth: Though I don’t think it’s gonna taste half as good. I wonder what edgy 4chan poser is supposed to taste like, anyway. Probably sweat, some mother’s basement, and memes that haven’t been cool since 2003. Ohh, the things I do for science–mm?

(Looking down into the pan, the Atomic Redhead frowns.)

Rachel Ellsworth: And it’s… not melting. Damn it! And here I thought the high fat and grease ratio meant it’d act like lard. Maybe it just needs a little more time.

(Rachel reaches down into the pan, poking at the shavings to move them around a little–and as she does? Smoke begins to rise up out of the pan, proof that she’s got that camping stove cranked up way too high.)

Rachel Ellsworth: Christ on a cracker!

(She’s quick to turn it off, picking up a file from the pile beside her. It just so happens to be Martin Robertson’s personnel file. Laying it over the skillet to help dampen the smoke that has just got to smell like someone set fire to a dungheap, Rachel sighs.)

Rachel Ellsworth: Welp, that didn’t work. Ah well. I’ve got a big enough sample size to try out a couple other tests. But which first..?

(Muttering to herself, the Atomic Redhead begins to gather up her things. The camera cuts to ringside.)

MM: Wait, was she really–

VA: What the fuck is a meme?

MM: You’re asking me?

VA: Yeah! It sounds nerdy, and you’re the biggest dork I know… so I thought you’d know.

MM: Let’s head backstage once more!

(We open up inside a private locker room to an extreme close-up of a cement wall that is painted with the logo of the University of New Mexico Lobos. After a few seconds, a taped fist comes crashing into the wall from off camera, followed by another flurry of quick jabs. The fans in the arena immediately start booing loudly at this insult as the camera slowly pulls back and reveals GRACE GOEREN as the culprit. The fans explode with even louder jeers as Grace has her black hoodie pulled up over her shaved head and her Beats earbuds in, dancing on her feet and throwing punches into the wall. She seems oblivious to everything, focused completely on throwing stiff punches while bobbing her torso and staying loose on her feet.)

Shawna Jackson: Okay, enough! I can’t watch any more of this, you’re going to break a knuckle like that.

(Walking into the shot is the EWA Head of Public Relations Shawna Jackson, a close confidant and some would say co-conspirator of the brash Combat Champion. Shawna gives Grace a stern look and folds her arms across her chest disapprovingly as Grace finally stops throwing punches. The God Queen flips her hoodie back up and removes her ear buds, the music of Lil Uzi Vert filling the room.)

Grace Goeren: You say somethin? Cause I ain’t fluent in stuck-up corporate bitch talk. Flunked that class.

Shawna Jackson: Yeah? Well you must have failed Biology too since you should know slamming your fists into a concrete wall right before the biggest match of your career is probably not a smart thing to do.

(Grace dismisses her with a wave of her hand and grabs a bottle of water from a nearby stool. It is only now that we see the hulking, silent frame of Alice resting in the corner of the room, dressed in a tattered baby blue sun dress and yellow flowers in head dirty, matted hair. Grace gives her a knowing nod and a smile before turning back towards Shawna.)

Grace Goeren: How we looking on advances? Ticket sales moving for the next few shows?

Shawna Jackson: All sold out, as of this morning.

Grace Goeren: Course they is. Everyone and their fucking mother can’t wait until the real EWA World Champion rolls into town. And this is the night, Shawna…this…

(The delusional Combat Champion waves her hand in the air.)

Grace Goeren: …this is MY night. I’ve wanted this match for…fuck…how long?

Shawna Jackson: Forever.

Grace Goeren: For-fuckin’-ever! That little squirmy bitch Haven kept throwin’ shade at me, pretending like his little slap fight with Kage was more important than proving who the real World Champion was here in EWA…until I made it so he couldn’t ignore me any longer. That’s what you gotta do around here…can’t just ask for something, you gotta grab it by the balls and rip them hairy bastards off to get a reaction.

Shawna Jackson: Charming. Listen, I know how much this match means to you…

Grace Goeren: Everything.

Shawna Jackson: Right. Everything. But you need to be careful. You haven’t exactly been lying low lately…I really wish you held off doing what you did to Gaunt until after you break Haven.

(Grace lets out a laugh and shoves a thumb back in Alice’s direction.)

Grace Goeren: That’s what Patrick Bateman in the corner there is for. She’ll drop anyone who dares to fuck with my moment faster than Sahara gargles a brand new dog dildo.

(Alice says nothing, she simply heaves her giant shoulders forward at the sound of her own name, one of the few things that can reach her when she’s in this current state.)

Shawna Jackson: Were you watching what happened to Lucy?

(Grace lets out a laugh, shaking her head.)

Grace Goeren: Poor little Lucy. She didn’t even have time to betray me like the rest of those Judas-cunts. I always knew she was going to though…kinda nice to have her taken care of without lifting a finger. See? Even after being excommunicated, my babies are still doing the work of Grace.

Shawna Jackson: Looks like your Fallout is pretty much dead.

Grace Goeren: Oh no. Not dead.

(The God Queen moves her hands through the air again in dramatic fashion.)

Grace Goeren: Transforming. Alice over there is in her cocoon, she’s still in her pupua stages you know. But when she emerges, she’ll be a beautifully loyal and fanatically devout follower of the Church of Grace. She will be the standard bearer of the faith and will be an inspiration to all those who follow and worship before me. Religions are built on the back of martyrs, sweetie…and whether they want to admit it or not…Sahara, Lizzie and Lucy all had to die so that the faith could grow stronger. And grow stronger it sure as shit has.

(Grace heads back towards the wall and rests her leg up against it, giving it a good stretch.)

Grace Goeren: Everything changes tonight, Shawna. EWA has been mine since the day I signed my first contact but tonight…tonight it becomes set in stone. None are equal to Grace. I am the future of this business and Haven and his pretend-title are the exclamation point at the end of that first commandment.

(Grace flips up her hoodie again and smiles back at Shawna, giving her a pat on the shoulder.)

Grace Goeren: This is going to be the best night of my career. After I beat Haven in every possible way tonight…I will baptize the entirety of EWA into my loving embrace. There will be no more opposition. No more dissention. Just devotion.

(The God Queen pops her earbuds back in and turns her gaze back towards the wall with a smile.)

Grace Goeren: They’re all my children now.

(A wicked smile stretches across her face before we very slowly fade to black.)



NR: The following contest is a special grudge match, scheduled for one fall!

The intro to Nirvana’s hit ‘In Bloom’ echoes throughout the arena, and Dube steps out from behind the curtain, mostly to cheers with a smattering of boos. He’s sporting a navy blue top, red full-length tights, and green boots with ‘DUBE’ lettered in gold on the outside. Dube pauses, looking out at the Albuquerque crowd, before marching toward the ring.

VA: You know, Malone, I can’t believe I’m going to say this…but I hope Laura Seton kicks the crap out of this sniveling little brat.

MM: Vincent, I applaud you for standing up for women’s rights after what Dube did to Laura all those years ago.

VA: Women’s rights? To hell with that! I just like Laura’s new “eff you” attitude!

MM: Of course you do. I should’ve known.

NR: Introducing first! Hailing from Oshkosh, Wisconsin, weighing in at 215 pounds…DUBE!!!

MM: And ladies and gentlemen, nearly two decades of tension and mistrust between these former high school sweethearts is about to boil over in a major way.

VA: And this isn’t going to be pretty, Malone. This isn’t going to be a technical wrestling masterpiece, or anything of that nature…this is going to be a fight.

MM: But I’m not even convinced Dube wants this fight, Vincent.

VA: Want it or not, he’s about to get it!

‘Gunboat’ by Vixtrola blasts over the PA system, and there’s still an audible cheer that rises from The Pit crowd, but amazingly, more people boo than cheer as Laura Seton storms out from behind the curtain, eyes blazing. She doesn’t stop to gaze at the audience, or anything at all – she makes a beeline directly toward the ring, walking rapidly down the ramp.

NR: And his opponent, also hailing from Oshko–

And that’s the only words Nikki Rogers gets out, as she’s forced to vacate the ring as Laura slides in and CRUSHES Dube across the face with a vicious forearm, sending him sprawling to the mat. Referee Rick Iley quickly admonishes Laura before calling for the bell, and this one’s underway!

MM: And Laura Seton has set the tone already for this contest!

Laura pulls Dube to his feet, and – WHAM! – unleashes a vicious slap right across the Oshkosh native’s face! Dube staggers backwards into the corner, and Laura lets loose with a flurry of forearms, rocking Dube with lefts and rights before sending him flying across the ring into the opposite turnbuckle. Laura sprints toward Dube, leaping into the air, but Dube has the ring presence to quickly duck out of the way, and Laura goes chest first into the turnbuckle.

VA: That’s gonna leave a mark, Malone!

MM: I’m amazed you didn’t have anything more provocative to say.

VA: Luckily for me I specialize in healing chest injuries. But only to women.

MM: And there it is.

Laura staggers backwards, and Dube seizes the opportunity, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting backwards into a bridged German suplex! Rick Iley is in position, and here’s the count!












And Laura kicks out. Seton quickly to her feet, rushing Dube with a clothesline attempt, but Dube is one step quicker, taking her down with a drop toe-hold and locking in a headlock. Our ringside mics clearly pick up the dialogue between the two…

Dube: We don’t have to do this, Laura!

Laura Seton: Shut the fuck up!

Laura gets to her feet, throwing a series of elbows into the gut of Dube to get him to break the headlock. The former World Heavyweight Champion hits the ropes, only to have Dube quickly chase her, grabbing her in a bearhug and planting her to the mat with a thunderous belly-to-belly suplex! And now Dube points toward the top rope!

MM: He’s going to fly!

Dube quickly climbs to the top rope, looking down at the prone form of his former sweetheart. He takes a deep breath, leaping off the top for a top rope legdrop…but Laura rolls out of the way, and Dube crashes to the mat hard!

VA: Like Icarus flying too close to the sun, Dube just made his final mistake!

Laura climbs to her feet, reaching down the front of her top…

VA: Woohoo, Malone!

MM: Shut up.

…and pulls out a pair of brass knuckles! She stares at them, and then down at Dube, who’s climbing to his feet slowly, with a look of utter disgust. But before Seton can use them, Rick Iley snatches them out of her hands, to the roar of the crowd! Iley rushes over to hand them to Nikki Rogers, getting them out of the ring…but while Iley has his back turned, Laura drops to her knees, delivering a swift uppercut between the legs of Dube, who drops to the mat, holding his stomach in agony!

VA: HAHAHA! What a brilliant play by Laura! She was never going to use the knucks at all, she just used it as a way to get Iley to turn his back! I think I’m starting to like Laura Seton!

MM: This is a sad, sad situation, ladies and gentlemen.

Laura kicks Dube in the back of the head, sneering at him as she turns the radio host over, going for the cover.












Dube kicks out, only to have Laura scream right in his face.

Laura Seton: STAY DOWN!

And Laura rocks him with a hard slap across the face! She tries another quick cover.




MM: Dube out right away!

Laura Seton: Kick… out… AGAIN!

Another hard slap, followed by a forearm and stiff punch to the face.

Laura Seton: Kick out one more time, motherfucker! I dare you!

She covers yet again.





And Dube is out yet again. Laura becomes as infuriated as possible.

MM: I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I hope she’s at least stable right now.

Laura picks him up and harshly slings him to the corner. She sprints over and lets loose with a barrage of kicks and forearms in the corner, busting Dube’s nose open! The blood gushes from the former NYSWF Lightweight Champion’s nostrils as Laura continues to beat him into a sitting position in the corner, screaming once more down at him.


MM: Laura Seton has snapped, ladies and gentlemen.

VA: Isn’t it wonderful?!

Laura drags the battered and beaten Dube out to the side of the ring, leaning him against the ropes. She pauses, looking out at the Pit crowd, who begin booing her even more heavily. Rolling her eyes, the former champion whips Dube into the opposite ropes, springing forward into a handstand…

MM: Angel’s Fury! Laura Seton connects with every bit of that au bautido kick! And this one’s as good as over….

VA: I don’t think it is, Malone!

Indeed, Laura just stares down at the prone form of Dube, breathing heavily. Her arms are visibly shaking with anger.


Dube’s failure to get back to his feet seems to further anger her. She gives him a few more seconds, yelling another set of profanities at him. Realizing he isn’t getting up soon, she walks over to Dube, grabbing him by his ankle.

MM: And mercifully, Laura Seton covers Dube…NO!

She doesn’t cover him, instead locking in her dreaded kneebar – Green 19! Dube howls in pain, thrashing about as Laura’s face contorts in a fury. She screams across to Dube as she wrenches back on the hold.


Screaming in agony as Laura gives another violent wrenching, Dube has no choice but to slap the mat frantically, tapping out. Referee Rick Iley calls for the bell…but Laura Seton isn’t breaking the hold, continuing to wrench back on Dube’s injured knee.

VA: Yeah! Make him pay, Laura!

MM: Oh for god’s sake, Laura, he’s had enough!

Rick Iley desperately tries to pull Laura off, but Seton doesn’t budge, continuing to lock in the hold as Dube’s howls of pain echo throughout The Pit. Finally, the crowd buzzes, and we see RAY WILLMOTT sliding into the ring. They both lock eyes and Ray seems to be practically pleading with Laura to let Dube go.

Ray Willmott: Dammit, stop! You’re going to cripple him!

The words don’t seem to be getting through, however, as Laura remains in a volatile trance and ignores him. With a sister in a wheelchair, Ray can’t stand by and watch. Reluctantly, he grabs Laura and yanks her off the radio host…only for Laura to SHOVE Ray down to the mat in retaliation!

MM: Oh no!

VA: Safe to say this wedding is OFF!

A visibly stunned Willmott looks up, mouth agape, as Laura bolts from the ring, storming up the entrance ramp and toward the back!

MM: I don’t know what’s gotten into Laura Seton as of late, but it’s a damn shame. It started with her jealousy over Ray Willmott becoming the EWA World Heavyweight Champion…but it’s evolved into, frankly, something much darker.

VA: I love it, Malone. This is what Twenty Minutes of Terror should be all about!

Ray Willmott, in what can certainly be considered an awkward moment, helps pull Dube out of the ring, and he and Rick Iley brace the injured radio host on their shoulders, helping him walk up the ramp to the back.


(The platinum blonde bombshell Sahara weaves through the backstage area, her ravishing features almost flawless save for a few fading scars leftover from the Grace assault. Suddenly she stops in the center of the corridor and just glares forward. She mutters under her breath “this bitch…”

The bitch she’s referring to is Elizabeth Gaunt. She walks down the exact same hall from the opposite direction, her bruises still fresh, creating something like a surreal yellow and black pattern across her pallid flesh. Her ivory white hair is swept to one side to cover the worst of the damage, and her own wild turquoise eyes grow weary at the sight of Sahara.

The Crimson Queen and The White Angel slowly draw closer together, the tension begging to be sliced by a knife, and the former blood-sisters seem to just take a moment to assess the other.

Gaunt is the first to break the pregnant silence.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: So…I did a shitty thing to you. I doubt you’ll ever believe it, but it hurt me to bash your brains in with that title belt. I never wanted it. I remained so threaded around Grace’s pinky finger that she managed to manipulate me mentally even when I’d already come to loathe her.

(Elizabeth sighs, looking downward.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: We’re past apologies. We’re past fixing this shitstorm. I just need you to know that out of ALL of those Fallout backstabbers…you were always my favorite. We had some good times, Lauren. They were different times; sometimes pill-fueled good times…murky and fragmentary in my mind…but it always made me feel about ten feet taller knowing that the Crimson Queen had my back.

(Gaunt steps closer to Sahara, her turquoise eyes floating back up to her. They’ve gathered that merciless shine again, and it’s apparent that her focus now borders on matters of lethality.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: It’s because of those good times that I tell you this now. We’re both headhunters seeking to decapitate the same tweenie shitbag parasite, and I am the ONLY Angel that’s gonna lop wittle Gracie Goeren’s head off and hold it up high for the entire EWA world to see.

(That familiar deranged smile tugs at Lizzie’s lips as she scans Sahara’s face.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: Stand aside and let it happen, and everybody wins. But if you fuck with me? If you dare to stop me and ONLY me from making Grace Goeren wish that she was aborted while still in the womb? We’re gonna have problems. And all the best Angels have cherubic attendants to serve them. Adorable lil’ things. Ever seen a Cherub, Lauren? Ever seen the plump prettiness of such a special creature?

(That smile turns even more horribly brainsick.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: Lucy has…

(Sahara stands silently, tilting her head to the right before slowly tilting it to the left, as if sizing up the White Angel.)

Sahara: First off…

(Sahara waves a finger in a circle bringing attention to Elizabeth’s white hair…)

Sahara: And I’ve wanted to say this to you for a long time now…but awesome. The hair. Really. If only it was a bit longer, then you could be exactly like me…I mean, without the looks of course.

(Her mocking tone is apparent as Lizzie’s hands ball into fists, prompting Sahara to raise her hands up as if telling her former friend to calm down.)

Sahara: Calm down. We’ve walked through hell together, Lizzie…so you should know that’s not gonna happen. After everything Grace did to me…after how she humiliated me — with your help, I might add — believe me, I’m comin’ for her. Whether you or your little minion get in my way…I’m comin’ for her. She has something of mine…something that was taken from me months ago…

(Sahara takes a deep breath, her eyes closing as if a tingling feeling of pleasure was washing over her.)

Sahara: And when I get it, you and your little … creature … can have what’s left of her.

(The former right hand of Grace takes a step forward, coming nearly nose to nose with the White Angel.)

Sahara: Plenty of Grace to go around, but unfortunately, only one Combat title…

(A slight smile forms on her face…)

Sahara: And that’s mine.

(Gaunt sneers, something akin to a dog-like snarl twitching at the White Angel’s upper lip. Her tongue slips out to play against her teeth…and that warm smile returns. The smile of a divine nutjob.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: Never been a big fan of leftovers, Lauren. I like my meat fresh. Aw fuck…even that isn’t true.

(She leans just a little closer.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: I like it raw.

(She shrugs, those tattooed bone-wings across her shoulders contracting with the movement.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: May the best bitch win. And may the best Angel get the juiciest cuts of Grace Goeren to decorate her mantle with.

(As Elizabeth brushes past Sahara, the blonde merely looks over her shoulder…her voice lowers to a whisper, as if talking to herself.)

Sahara: May the best bitch win…


(The sound of static fills the arena. The curtains part and a regular sized man walks out. He is wearing blue denim jeans, a grey Denver Broncos hoodie, with the hood pulled up over his head. Only the broadest of features can be made out, but his face is young and weathered at the same time In his right hand, he carries an aluminium baseball bat, it simply hangs by his side. He surveys the crowd, to the squelching sound of static punctuating the air, with his left hand he reaches up and flips the hood back off his head to reveal a shaved head, the barest of stubble across his head, and an obvious toothless smile.)

MM: Alex Brooks!

VA: Another pointless do-gooder.

(Brooks starts walking towards the ring. He twirls his baseball bat in the manner that you would expect a beat officer would twirl a baton while on patrol. The crowd is make some noise for the arrival of Brooks, but they aren’t blowing the roof off. As Brooks gets closer to the ring, the squelching, nauseating sound of ear piercing static slowly dies down. Brooks slides himself into the ring under the bottom rope and collects a microphone that has conveniently been left on the canvas. Brooks perches himself on the nearest turnbuckle, facing out towards the crowd. Brooks manages perch is bat on the top rope, bridging the gap between two sets of ropes as they round the turnbuckle.)

Alex Brooks: Sometimes…

(Brooks takes a pause.)

Alex Brooks: Sometimes… Sometimes… we do things because our ego demands it. Sometimes… we do things before our minds crave it. Sometimes… we do things because our image desires it. This… This is all of that. Every single one of us crave the sweat, the blood, the attention, the tears… the adulation… and even the failure. We want to prove to ourselves that we are more than sum of how we see each ourselves. We want you…

(Brooks points out into the crowd.)

Alex Brooks: …to see us as something more than what we see ourselves.

(He drops his head.)

Alex Brooks: And I would be lying to myself if I said I was here for any other reason than that. This… What I do… What we do. It’s more powerful than any drug. The things I have seen people do to be part of this thing we in this squared circle.

(Brooks gestures awkwardly to the ring behind him.)

Alex Brooks: I’ve seen grown men carve their family apart just be accepted… to feed their addiction. I’ve seen all sorts of unspeakable acts committed in the quest for glory and adulation. I’ve seen so virtuous women turn into whores. My own tooth was used as a trophy in this sick, depraved business. I have seen all of that and I have seen far more, but I’m not foolish enough to think that I can save the world or show them all another way into the light. I’ve got more chance of doing that standing on a street corner in Hollywood preaching about the end of the world.

(Brooks takes a pause.)

Alex Brooks: I can’t even save myself. I’m here because of my own needs… my own addiction.

(Brooks takes a another obvious pause and smiles his gap-toothed smile.)

Alex Brooks: Someone once told me that nice guys finish last. That isn’t always the case, but I can tell you from what I’ve seen in this wasteland, that nice guys have a whole lot less advantages than everyone else in this messed up world. But when you are willing to do anything, or anyone other than you to get ahead… well you don’t need to be a little engine that could. So, like every god forsaken addict in this world – I will beg, borrow, steal or screw over everyone that stands in my way to get to the peak of the high that and I everyone else craves so badly. And no saints are going to bring me to my redemption. I will bring my own brand of redemption to the squared circle.

(Brooks drops on the mic on the floor outside the ring. He stands on the turnbuckle and backflips off into the centre of the ring. He stands from his landing crouch and grabs his baseball bat from its perch before slinging himself over the top rope. He exits through the crowd, as the ear-piercing static returns to the arena.)

MM: Alex Brooks, the former SHOOT Project Rule of Surrender Champion, is here in the EWA!

VA: And I sort of like the sound of his new attitude here, Malone!

MM: Let’s take you backstage!

Mojave: What do you mean you’ve never seen Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory?”

(The EWA Tag Team Champions stand in a locker room backstage that is clearly not their own, judging by the mess that was made. Earlier in the night, Alexander Haven announced that hidden somewhere in the The Pit arena is an open contract and MoJo have been on the lookout for it ever since.)

Josh Kaine: I ain’t never seen it. My ma ain’t keen on movies like that…or anything with that Gene Wilder guy.

Mojave: So you’ve never seen Young Frankenstein either?

(Josh Kaine shakes his head.)

Mojave: That’s a crime against humanity, Josh.

(The tag team championship belts are belted tightly around their waists as they turn to leave the locker room before we get a chance to see the placard across the door that reads THE VICE SQUAD.)

Josh Kaine: You still ain’t told me what the contract has to do with Willy Wonka.

(Josh glances back, feeling slightly guilty about tearing through the Vice Squad’s locker room, but he can always come back and help them clean it up later. They walk through the hallway, bending over to search through the various road cases for the Golden Ticket. Mojave heaves a big sigh and shakes his head.)

Mojave: You at least know the story, don’t you?

(Josh shakes his head again.)

Mojave: Jesus, you did grow up in the fuckin’ boondocks. Look, in the story, Willy Wonka hides five Golden Tickets in his chocolate bars so kids can find them and come tour the chocolate factory. That’s why the boss is callin’ it the Golden Ticket.

Josh Kaine: So did he make the open contract gold?

Mojave: I don’t fuckin’ know, Dude. Just keep looking.

Josh Kaine: But how’re we supposed to find it if he ain’t make it look special or nothin’?


(The younger of the Tag Team Champions keeps looking, finally turning into another vacant locker room and not bothering to read the name placard this time either. Mojave does though. He just grins and looks up.)

Mojave: What do you need to REALLY bring out the sweetness of an open contract?

(The camera pans up, seeing the name on the door.)


Mojave: A little bit of salt.

(Cut to ringside.)




NR: The following “Champion vs Champion” non-title contest is our main event of the evening, and it is scheduled for one fall!

VA: Oh man, Malone! It’s time! I can’t wait for this!

MM: You kiss these two individuals’ asses more than anyone in the promotion, Vince. Who are you rooting for here?

VA: Malone, I just hope we have a good fight and that nobody gets hurt.

MM: (sighs) Maybe we can all get in a group hug afterwards?

VA: In a perfect world, my friend.

A massive mushroom cloud appears on the Jumbotron as a thunderous roar fills The Pit, vibrating the arena to its very core. Sister Sin’s ‘Chaos Royale’ begins to pulse through the arena as a strobe light effect begins, and a hooded form appears at the entrance ramp…

NR: Introducing first! From Dortmund, Germany, she is the self-proclaimed God Queen of the EWA and the reigning EWA Combat Champion…GRACE…GOEREN!!!!

VA: That’s WORLD Combat Champion, Nikki Rogers! Get it right and pay respect to your God Queen!

Grace stands at the top of the ramp, head down, wearing her new ‘The Fallout’ hoodie, unzipped with the usual red compression top, shorts, and MMA combat gloves, along with the Combat Championship strapped to her waist underneath. She slowly begins to nod her head, before throwing her hands up in a guttural roar as a burst of pyro fills The Pit. The God Queen, clearly viewing this as a huge fight, marches down toward the ring, focused and determined. Behind her, following silently is the hulking menace known as Alice, the newest member of the Fallout to drink the kool-aid of the God Queen’s teachings.

MM: As my broadcast colleague just stated, Grace Goeren fancies herself as the “true World’s Champion”, even going so far as to call her Combat Championship the “EWA World Combat Championship” —

VA: Now hold on right there, Malone. You can talk all the garbage you want about what Grace says or doesn’t say, but let’s deal in facts, shall we? Fact: it is an indisputable, undeniable truth that Grace Goeren was NEVER pinned or submitted for the EWA World Heavyweight Championship. Is it not?

MM: She was eliminated in the Warrior’s Trial III —

VA: And you find me another World Heavyweight Champion that was forced to defend their title against the entire roster in a freaking battle royal. Come on, Mr. Know It All! I’m waiting!

MM: I…

VA: Exactly. Fact: Since August 19 at Live From Tokyo, when our God Queen ascended to her rightful place in the heavens as the EWA World Heavyweight Champion, she’s been pinned exactly one time, by that disgusting filth of a sperm donor named Azrael Goeren, and he needed the help of former EWA World Heavyweight Champion Sinnocence to do that!

MM: Grace had a plethora of people trying to help her then! Sinnocence was just fighting off Sah–you know what, forget it, Vince. Live in your fantasy world.

VA: Don’t hate me because I came to a gunfight with a nuclear bomb, Malone. ALL HAIL OUR GOD QUEEN, HALLOWED BE THY NAME!

As Grace enters the ring, the lights in The Pit go out, and the crunching guitars of ‘Hail to the King’ begin to play through the venue. The crowd, already booing the God Queen, continue on with the negative reaction as another burst of pyro, this time coming from the top of the Jumbotron, goes off, and a lone spotlight shines down upon the entrance ramp.


VA: You’re looking at true royalty right now, ladies and gentlemen! What a match this is going to be! The Crown and The God Queen! This is bigger than Tyson vs Holyfield! Bigger than the Cubs and the Yankees! Bigger than the Warriors and the Cavaliers! Bigger than the Patriots and the Cowboys! This is–


NR: And her opponent! From Buffalo, New York, he is the owner and Chief Executive Officer of EWA Entertainment, and the reigning EWA Heavyweight Champion of the World…the One True King of the EWA, THE INCOMPARABLE…ALEXANDER…HAVEN!!!

MM: I remember when we had a truly incomparable champ–

VA: You shut your mouth, Malone, or I’ll have Alex slap the taste right out of it.

Alexander Haven steps out into the spotlight, draped in his golden sequined robe that he debuted at Battlelines 30, the EWA World Heavyweight Championship strapped to his waist. He looks out at the booing Albuquerque audience with disdain before heading down to the ring, watching Grace as she stares daggers at the man wearing the championship she feels should rightfully be hers, but cannot fight for any longer. Haven climbs the steps, entering the ring and stretching his arms out, motioning toward the belt around his waist as he taunts Grace with it. Grace makes a beeline for Haven, but referee Danny Smith is able to step in front of her, impeding her progress. Grace turns away as Haven slips out of his robe, handing it down to Nikki Rogers…and Grace strikes from behind! The God Queen fires away, teeing off on the World Heavyweight Champion as Smith calls for the bell!

MM: And we’re underway with a cheap shot from the Combat Champion, and I’d expect no less!

VA: Oh, come on, Malone. If there’s anyone that knows how this game is played, it’s Alexander Haven. He probably appreciated that move!

MM: Wow, you’re right, Vince. I’m sure he appreciates getting ambushed.

VA: Glad you see it my way.

Grace staggers Haven back against the ropes, and shoots him to the other side of the ring, but Haven reverses the irish whip, and FLATTENS Grace with a huge clothesline! Haven glares out at the audience as the boos reach an even louder pitch, smirking…but Grace drops him to his knees with a forearm to the back of the head out of nowhere!

MM: Unbelievable! Haven laid waste to Grace with that clothesline, but she hopped right back up, and now she’s stomping away at the World Heavyweight Champion!

VA: I can tell you one thing, Malone. Grace Goeren wanted this match because she feels like she has something to prove to the entire world, and she’s showing it thus far.

Grace lays in savage kicks to the abdomen of Haven, who takes a powder, rolling to the outside of the ring and circling to try to get momentum back on his side – but Grace hits the ropes, and connects with a baseball slide underneath the bottom rope, sending Haven flying backwards into the guardrail!

MM: She’s certainly came out with a vengeance thus far!

Grace rolls out of the ring, and races toward Haven, clotheslining him over the guardrail as both competitors spill into the front row! The crowd cheers, having forgotten their hatred of these two individuals in appreciation of the intensity of the match’s start. Grace is first to her feet, dragging Haven up with her, but whirls toward a male fan in the crowd who was foolish enough to reach out and touch the God Queen on the arm.

VA: Did you see that? HE TRIED TO ASSAULT THE GOD QUEEN! That’s a cardinal sin, Malone!

Grace’s momentary diversion is all Haven needs, as he reaches out, grabbing her by the head and shoulder, and flings her directly into the guardrail! Breathing heavily, Haven steps over the guardrail, hooking Grace – who’s still on the other side, in the crowd – for a vertical suplex. Haven lifts the Combat Champion up, but instead of lifting her over and into the ringside area, drops her stomach-first right on the rail!

MM: Grace is certainly going to feel the impact of that one for weeks!

Alice slowly approaches, but thinks better of it after Haven catches a glimpse of her. The CEO quickly turns, delivering a running knee lift straight to Grace’s head, the impact sending her toppling back over to the ringside area. In the meantime, Danny Smith has reached a count of seven, and Haven wisely rolls into the ring, breaking the count…only to roll right back outside. Haven grabs Grace by the hair, dragging her to her feet and screaming in her face.

Alexander Haven: You don’t look like a God or a Queen to me!

And with that, Haven flings her toward the corner ringpost – but Grace reverses it at the last second, and Haven’s head bounces off the ringpost, sending him collapsing to the ground! Staggering, Grace walks toward him, clutching her stomach as she pulls the World Heavyweight Champion to his feet and rolls him underneath the ropes, back into the ring.

MM: And Haven’s bleeding from the forehead after taking that shot off the ringpost, folks.

VA: Indeed, under the law almost everything is purified with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins.

MM: Are you…are you quoting Bible verses at me?!

VA: Grace 9:22, Malone.

MM: (sighs)

Grace rolls into the ring after Haven, picking him up and delivering a swinging neckbreaker. And now Grace with the lateral press, as Danny Smith slides into position!














Haven kicks out! Grace locks in a headlock, screaming out as she cinches in on the hold.


VA: That’s right, Grace!

MM: That’s…not, actually – nevermind.

Haven gets to one knee, but Grace leaves the headlock hooked in. Haven finally gets to his feet, lifting Grace up in the air and slamming her down to the mat with a back suplex to break the hold. And now Haven with his first cover of the bout!















And Grace kicks out as well!

VA: Malone, I’m just excited we’re witnessing this. Grace Goeren and Alexander Haven, two of the greatest champions of our time. What a time to be alive! This is a dream come true!

MM: How’s the tent pitching coming over there?

VA: What? I’m not going camping, you moron.

Haven pulls the Combat Champion to her feet, hooking her arm and lifting her for a vertical suplex. But Grace is able to float over him, and the God Queen leaps in the air, knees out as she grabs for Haven’s shoulders…


…but Haven had the ring presence to reach out and grab the top rope, preventing Grace from hitting the move! Grace hits the mat, but fluidly rolls backwards onto her feet, racing forward and launching a clothesline at Haven – Haven ducks the clothesline, spins, kicks Grace in the stomach, and lifts her up on his shoulders!


But just as Haven was able to do moments ago, Grace reaches for the top rope, pulling herself off of Haven’s shoulders and to the ring apron on the outside. Grace launches a shoulder directly into Haven’s stomach as he turns toward her, and uses the momentum of the ropes to catapult herself over the hunched form of the World Champion, rolling him into a sunset flip for a cover!















Haven kicks out!! Both warriors get to their feet, and Grace strikes first, with a hard punch to Haven’s jaw, sending him staggering back. Haven fires off a return shot of his own, sending Grace bouncing backwards into the ropes, but she springs forward, leading with an open palm…



Grace makes the cover, and Danny Smith is there for the count…















THR–HAVEN WITH A FOOT ON THE BOTTOM ROPE, AND DANNY SMITH SAW IT! And Grace Goeren is furious, slamming her fists into the mat!

VA: She nearly had him there, Malone, but Alexander Haven’s no dummy. That ring presence, that knowledge…that’s why he’s the one true king of professional wrestling.

MM: I thought there were three kings?

VA: Well, the other two are hurt, so he’s the one true king by default.

MM: Revisionist logic at its finest, ladies and gentlemen.

VA: I don’t like your tone, Malone. Whoa, I made a rhyme!

Grace Goeren pulls Haven to his feet, whipping him into the ropes, and slaps on a sleeper hold! Haven wildly flails his arms, trying to get out of it, but again, that veteran ring presence kicks in as he runs backwards toward the corner, smashing the Combat Champion against the turnbuckle and forcing her to break the hold. Haven staggers toward the center of the ring, and as he turns toward Grace, she rushes him – but Haven lifts her high in the air, driving her into the mat with a spinebuster! Haven leaps to his feet with a triumphant roar, bringing on a fresh chorus of boos!

MM: They hate both of these warriors here in Albuquerque!

VA: Of course they do, Malone! This city is a dump, the only thing it’s famous for is Walter White and meth. I can’t wait to leave this hellhole!

Haven pulls Grace to her feet, lifting her up on his shoulders…

MM: Fall From Glory!

VA: Look, Malone!

Indeed, as Haven executed his Fall From Glory finisher, Grace was cognizant enough to reach out, grabbing senior referee Danny Smith by the arm on her way down. The momentum from her grabbing Smith causes him to take a tumble straight into the turnbuckle, hitting his head and dropping to the mat!

MM: Smith’s unconscious, and it’s all thanks to Grace Goeren!

VA: Are you kidding me? The man’s clumsy as hell, Malone! He tripped over his own feet! You’ve seen him backstage, the guy couldn’t walk in a straight line to save his life!

MM: Will you stop?!

And now Haven hooks the leg, but there’s no one around to make the cover!


















Annoyed, Haven finally looks up to see Danny Smith out in the corner. Haven walks over, poking at Smith with his boot to try and revive him, but to no avail – he’s out cold.

VA: Why doesn’t another referee come out and make the count?

MM: You don’t remember the last time that happened? Stacy Vandervort ruled that the referee was illegal —

VA: Stacy doesn’t work here anymore —

MM: — and Haven capitalized on that ruling to win the EWA Tag Team Championship with Chris Kage from X-Calibur and Azrael Goeren!

VA: ….he owns the place! Change the rules, Alex!

Haven kneels down, trying harder to revive Danny Smith, but to no avail. But as he stands back up…


MM: Grace leaps into the air…FALL FROM GRACE!! SHE NAILED EVERY BIT OF IT!!

Grace pumps a fist into the air, and crawls over to Danny Smith, furiously shaking him, but suddenly the crowd begins to buzz…

VA: Oh my god! What the hell is she doing here?!

Walking down the entrance ramp, steel chair in hand, is none other than the former EWA Network Champion and Grace Goeren follower, the White Angel herself, Elizabeth Gaunt. Her eyes are wild with lunacy as she approaches the ring – only to be met by Alice, who plants herself firmly in front of the White Angel, stopping Gaunt in her tracks.

VA: Yeah! Get her, Alice! Stop the non-believer! She was cast out of our God Queen’s kingdom! IMPURE! IMPURE!

MM: You’re – WHOA!

Gaunt turns away – then whirls around, CRACKING Alice over the head with the steel chair! The massive woman crumples to the ground in a heap, leaving a clear line of sight between Gaunt and, at the far end of the ring, Grace Goeren.

MM: And now Gaunt’s going to get some payback for what Grace did to her, and I for one don’t blame her at all!

Gaunt approaches the ring slowly, as Grace beckons her in, screaming at her former liege, when suddenly, a familiar long blonde-haired figure leaps over the guardrail and jumps onto the ring apron, grabbing hold of the top rope! Her body trembles with anticipation, waiting for the moment as the crowd buzzes! The blonde springs to the top rope, launching herself — before Grace even has time to react she connects with a devastating punch to her jaw laying her out cold!!!


VA: Oh my god! What have you done?! You walking case of the clap!? You’ve laid your filthy hands on our God Queen!!

The crowd EXPLODES at the revelation that Sahara knocked Grace out cold with the Flight of the Valkyrie, as she stands over the God Queen, screaming down at her, “Try ignoring THAT!” Stomping over to Haven, Sahara drags him over, draping him on top of Grace! Fired up, she vaults over the top rope to the floor and steps backwards up the rampway to admire her work…

…only to have Elizabeth Gaunt FLATTEN HER with a chairshot!

VA: YES! But what the hell is Lizzie doing?!

MM: I think she felt that this was her moment to strike at Grace, and Sahara stole her moment of glory!

Gaunt stares down at Sahara, emotionless, before throwing the chair down on top of her in disgust. Walking back up the ramp, she never looks back as she disappears through the curtain.

VA: What a travesty! This is an outrage! Sahara and her disease-ridden self should be fired from the EWA, effective immediately!

MM: Yeah, because I’m sure Haven’s going to get right on that.


Haven reaches down and hooks the leg, but Grace is still out cold from Sahara’s devastating punch…




















NR: Here is your winner…the EWA World Heavyweight Champion…THE INCOMPARABLE…ALEXANDER…HAVEN!!!

VA: I love you, Alex, but…this is not right. UNCLEAN! UNCLEAN!

Alice, holding her head on the outside, reaches into the ring, grabbing Grace and dragging her outside of the ring as Haven is awarded his EWA World Heavyweight Championship belt. The monstrous woman hoists Grace over her shoulder, walking up the ramp a few paces behind Sahara – Alice either hasn’t noticed Sahara, or doesn’t realize that she’s the reason her God Queen is unconscious at this moment. Regardless, ‘Hail to the King’ cuts off inside the ring, as Alexander Haven now has a microphone…


Alexander Haven: (holding a towel to the cut on his forehead, breathing heavily) And just like that, I stand victorious once more!

(The crowd lets out a fresh spattering of boos, as an EMT steps in the ring to place a bandage on the wound. Haven wipes his forehead once more and drops the towel to the ground, before beginning to speak again.)

Alexander Haven: Now then, there’s just one little matter to handle before I can get out of this godforsaken hellhole. Earlier, I gifted the entire EWA roster with the most wonderful gift one can give. A Golden Ticket- which entitles the bearer to one contracted match for the World Heavyweight Championship – the real one – but more importantly a chance to learn through defeat from yours truly, “The Incomparable” Alexander Haven!

(More boos from the crowd, which elicits a smirk from Haven.)

Alexander Haven: So, I say to my loyal subjects…now is the time to cash in that wonderful prize! If you will, morons of Albuquerque, count down with me. The deadline to claim your prize is quickly expiring!



VA: These morons can’t even count!



MM: Or maybe they don’t respond well to being called morons.




VA: You respond just find to it, moron.




(A loud buzzer goes off in the arena, with Price is Right reminiscent failure sounds.)

Alexander Haven: Aaand what a shame! Once again the rest of the EWA fails to rise to my challenge! I’m sorry, folks, looks like I’m without an opponent at Champion’s Summit. Good night, Albuquerque! Drive home safe! Or don’t! Not like I fucking care!

(The crowd boos once more and a few fans throw trash towards the ring. The crowd continues chanting BULLSHIT as they start to file out.)

Voice: Oh, Alex….Alex my good friend. Wait just one minute…

(An unknown voice thunders throughout​ the arena stopping the EWA CEO dead in his tracks, suddenly the lights begin to flicker as the jumbotron comes to life. On the screen appears the face of Haven’s former best friend and co-founder of The Youth, Chris Kage. He appears to be holding the camera in his hand as it jostles this way and that, rich sounds of the mic scraping against his hand rings throughout the arena. Kage is wearing the same attire as he was earlier in the night, however he doesn’t appear to be at the arena anymore as the background behind him looks to be cheap hotel room, as if there is another kind of hotel room in Albuquerque.)

Chris Kage: Oh my old friend, you seem to be forgetting something, or should I say, someone.

Alexander Haven: You again? I know for a fact you don’t have the Golden Ticket, and even if you did, it has to be handed to me in person. That pesky no coming within 25 feet of the One True King rule puts a damper on that, doesn’t it?

Chris Kage: (laughs) Come on ‘Mastermind,’ you know me better than that. I’m not going to spend my time looking for some imaginary Golden Ticket, that we all fucking know doesn’t exist anyways because you’re too scared of your own fucking shadow. And for starters, why would I go looking for something that’s impossible to find when I have the real Golden Ticket to Alexander Haven’s heart right here…

(Kage begins to shift the camera in his hand and turns it towards the corner of the room where we find none other than Alexander Haven’s wife, Alyssa Marie, bound and gagged strapped to a chair. Kage quickly snaps the camera back around and addresses the World Champ once more.)

Chris Kage: You see, Alex, when you’ve been as close as we all have, you start to learn each other’s tendencies, like how Alyssa always likes to check with the sound and lighting crew a half hour before your matches, just to make sure they don’t make her man look bad. It’s that simple, I merely waited outside of production with my boys, and we scooped your little Queen Snatch right up as she left. It was so easy, Alex, I gotta tell ya, I expected a little more out of you when it came to Alyssa, I was sure you wouldn’t leave her alone…but alas… here we are. So… best friend, let’s talk.

(Martin Robertson suddenly appears from the entrance way, rushing to the ring. Haven covers the microphone as Martin whispers in his ear. Haven bites back at Marty sharply but still out of audio range as Martin throws his hands up in the air and walks towards the turnbuckle.)

Alexander Haven: This isn’t your game, Chris. It’s not your angle. You don’t have it in you, Kage. You’ve always lacked that killer instinct.

Chris Kage: You know, Alex, you might be right. But then again, I’m not the one you need to worry about…

(Kage flips the camera around once more showing a visibly upset Alyssa again, tears beginning to become visible as they run down her face. The camera shifts to the left where we see the beautiful Stacy Vandervort standing in front of Alyssa smiling. The blonde bombshell turns her head towards the camera and blows a kiss before reaching back and slapping the Chief Operating Officer across the face. The ferocity of the slap nearly knocks Alyssa out of the chair, as it begins to rock back and forth, before it can settle Stacy delivers another right, then a left, then a sharp right, she continues over and over again, as the camera flips back around to face Kage once more.)

Chris Kage: Ouch…that didn’t look like much fun. So, Alex, are you ready to talk yet? Or maybe I should give Grace and her clan of amazons a call, they seem to be big fans of yours right now, I’m sure they’d love to take turns letting out their frustration on your little skank here.

(Haven is pacing back and forth in the ring rapidly as Marty has his hands on his head, looking at the screen. Haven approaches him and covers the mic once more, but this time, we are able to hear their animated conversation slightly thanks to the ringside audio mics Both of them are shouting at each other although much remains inaudible.)

MM: These two are having quite the debate here, while Alyssa hangs in the balance.

VA: They are planning, Malone! It’s what geniuses do!

Martin Robertson: (inaudible)…if you say so…(inaudible)…really wanna take that chance…(inaudible)…she’s your fucking wife!

(Haven paces wildly once more before raising the microphone. His face is bright red with anger and blood has begun to drip from the bandage on his forehead.)

MM: I’ve never seen Haven so furious! I think Kage has him right where he wants him!

VA: NO! He’ll find a way out!

Alexander Haven: FINE! Champion’s Summit III, it’s on! I’ll wipe the mat with you one more time and make sure you are never seen or heard from again in this business!


MM: You were saying? WOW!

(The crowd roars in approval, and Haven drops the mic in anger as Marty rushes over to retrieve it. He hands it back to Alex after whispering in his ear…)

Alexander Haven: And bring me my fucking wife back or I swear to god I’ll have you arrested for kidnapping!

(Kage grins gleefully, enjoying every second of Haven’s agony.)

Chris Kage: Oh don’t worry, Alex, I’m sure you have Alyssa’s Find My iPhone information, you’re ‘The Mastermind’ after all, you’ll figure it out.

(Kage displays an iPhone in front of the camera and powers it on before tossing it in the lap of Alyssa Marie, whose eyes are now completely bloodshot from the anguish of her current predicament. He then sets the camera down so that the whole room comes into focus, as he and Stacy begin to make their way out the door. Kage stops abruptly as he grabs hold of the door and looks back at the camera.)

Chris Kage: Oh, and Alex, make sure you bring my title with you to Champions Summit, I’m going to be taking that from you as well.

(Kage offers one last smile and slams the door, leaving the EWA COO all alone once more. The camera focuses on her weary face for a moment before the jumbotron cuts completely out.)

MM: Alexander Haven and Chris Kage, for the EWA World Heavyweight Championship at Champions Summit III! Incredible!

VA: Stop babbling and call the goddamn police, Malone! Alyssa is in trouble!!

(Inside the ring, Alexander Haven lets out a primal roar, spiking the microphone against the mat as he drops to the floor, storming up the entrance ramp. Martin Robertson, an expression of worry plastered on his face, follows quickly behind, tapping furiously at his phone.)

MM: What an incredible moment! For Allison Haines and Vincent Ashe, I’m Mike Malone…and we’ll see you in two weeks at the Combat Zone for Battlelines 32!

VA: Hold on Alyssa! They’re on their way!

(Fade to black.)

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