EWA Entertainment Presents: Battlelines 32June 23, 2017The Combat ZoneBoston, MA

Battlelines 32 Results

(We open up on an absolutely jam-packed EWA Combat Zone with fans standing on their feet and going bonkers as the show kicks off. These EWA faithful are clearly happy to have the show back in Boston as colorful signs and a raucous crowd meet Mike Malone and Vincent Ashe. Malone is wearing his traditional suit and tie while Ashe is dressed in a black t-shirt with a black armband on his right arm. Ashe isn’t even looking at the camera, his head is down and he’s clearly distracted by something as Malone addresses the home audience with a smile.)

Mike Malone: Welcome back to the Combat Zone, ladies and gentlemen! We’ve got an amazing card lined up for you tonight and considering how our last Battlelines went off the air, things are undoubtedly going to heat up tonight! Our main event features…

Vincent Ashe: Hold up, what was that supposed to mean?

MM: Huh?

VA: Are you taking a dig at our beloved God Queen? Is that what you’re doing, Malone? You are something else, you know that? Only a piece of shit would…

MM: Whoa, what…

VA: …only a piece of shit would pile on Grace Goeren like that! Grace gave her heart and soul during our last main event and had Alexander Haven beat! Nobody can deny that! Just look at the video, only a liberal cuck like you would dispute those facts!

MM: Folks, I apologize for my broadcast partner. Vincent hasn’t been himself since Alexander Haven pinned Grace Goeren and…

VA: LIES! MORE LIES WITH OTHER LIES! Grace had Haven out cold until those ungrateful freaks Sahara and Elizabeth Gaunt stuck their ugly faces in our God Queen’s business! They ruined what was going to be her perfect moment!

MM: I think you might be the only person in the entirety of EWA who thinks that Grace didn’t deserve that after the degradation and humiliation she put her former Fallout members through these last few weeks.

VA: Sahara and Gaunt aren’t even people, they’re monsters! Horrible, twisted, mean-spirited beasts who ruined what should have been the greatest moment in EWA history! And for that…here, get a close up of this…

(The camera zooms in on Vincent’s black armband that features the letters “G.G.” in white.)

VA: I will be wearing this armband in mourning and in solidarity with Grace for the criminal acts perpetrated against her. Praise Grace! And if you want your own armband, you can order them on AshesBrownBoxDealz.com for only $19.95.

(Malone can only shake his head as Vincent makes sure the camera gets a good shot of the armband/product before it pulls back into a wider shot.)

MM: And on the heels of what could perhaps be the biggest rematch to take place in wrestling history, Chris Kage and the World Heavyweight Champion, Alexander Haven, will officially sign the contract for their World Heavyweight Title match at Champions Summit 3 before squaring off as part of an eight-person tag match later tonight!

VA: I’m going to love this, as Alex still has that 25 foot restraining order against Chris! I can’t wait until that idiot breaks it and has to forfeit his title opportunity!

MM: Also tonight we’ve got a lot of great matchups heading into Champions Summit, including Maggie’s continuing quest to take out HATE, as she squares off tonight with William West

VA: That girl has a death wish, Malone, and tonight, don’t be surprised if West cashes in on it!

MM: We’ve got six-person tag team action, Mephisto and Calder going one-on-one, the debut of Alex Brooks, and, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, Vince…

(The camera pans up over the ring to see an enclosed steel cage hanging from the rafters…)

MM: … but we’ve got a steel cage hanging from the arena tonight!

VA: What the hell is that thing even for?

MM: Rumors have been going around that it could be a preview of the Human Torch match coming up at Champions Summit. Will we see it in play tonight?

VA: I think it’s clear that–

(Before Vincent can comment further, the arena lights start to flicker before going out completely. What follows is the thunderous explosion and a picture of a mushroom cloud on the video screen as the crowd immediately starts to boo as loud as they can.)


MM: How is she going to feel about you making a profit off of her loss last week?

VA: She didn’t lose, Malone. She was screwed! And profit sharing is always something that can be negotiated later, let’s focus on the present! It’s time for Grace to make things right!

(The familiar chords of Sister Sin’s “Chaos Royale” blares over the loudspeakers as the fans are already on fire, screaming obscenities and booing as loud as they can. After a few moments, the curtains flutter and storming out from the back is the EWA Combat Champion herself, Grace Goeren. Grace wastes little time as she angrily bounds to the ring, her EWA Combat Championship loosely held in her right hand. She gets to ringside and haphazardly tosses the belt into the ring with zero concern for it, screaming for a microphone before she impatiently snatches one away from Nikki Rogers.)

MM: Oh jeez, here we go. Grace looks downright demented tonight.

VA: Can you blame her?

MM: Interesting that she came down to the ring alone. I wonder where Alice is?

VA: Don’t even get me started on Alice. She only had ONE job to do at Battlelines and she completely fouled it up. You’d figure with all of those personalities running around inside her crazy head there would be at least one of them who is a complete screw up.

MM: Oh please. Grace is using that poor woman to further her own career just like she did with Sahara and Gaunt. Your so-called “God Queen” only cares about people who worship her. What do you have to say about that, partner?


(The God Queen angrily grabs her title belt from the ground and slings it over the top rope before hysterically shrieking into the microphone and gesturing towards the back.)

Grace Goeren: Gaunt! Sahara!

(The Combat Champion takes a deep, labored breath of air before screaming again.)

Grace Goeren: GAUNT! SAHARA!

(Grace reaches up and digs at her shaved head with her free hand, scratching down her face and leaving red streaks in her fingers wake.)

MM: Oh she’s lost it.

VA: Shut your whore mouth, Malone!

MM: Not that she ever had it to begin with though…

(After another deep breath, Grace screams out again in a guttural and deranged tone.)


(Grace looks around the arena, seemingly scanning the arena to see if she can spot her former Fallout members somewhere in the crowd. She brings the microphone back up and breathes heavily into it.)

Grace Goeren: All I wanted was to make EWA pretty. That’s all. Is that such a bad thing? I just wanted to take it out of the pigshit it’s currently stuck in and elevate it into something…heavenly.

(With those words, Grace looks up at the arena ceiling and reaches out her free hand as if to grasp something…only to pull back air.)

Grace Goeren: In another world…this would have been the beginning of the greatest era that EWA has ever seen. We would all be celebrating my victory over that false prophet Haven and the validation of Grace Goeren as being the best wrestler who has ever lived. We would all have benefited from that. I would hold all of my little worshipers close and they in turn would have felt my glowing love and warmth.

(Despondently, Grace turns her head down to the mat.)

Grace Goeren: That moment…that achievement…an endorsement of everything I’ve ever done here in EWA…was…stolen…from…me…

(Grace goes silent and drops down to her knees in the middle of the ring. She lowers her head and her shoulders heave, almost looking like she’s sobbing. She speaks again, extremely low and barely even a whisper.)

Grace Goeren: I gave you all a chance at salvation and a better world. Through my teachings and veneration, all things were possible. EWA would have been reborn, purified from the failures and sins of the past and remade in my perfect image.

(Slowly, she lifts her head.)

Grace Goeren: I offered everyone here tonight, whether you are in the stands or in the back, something truly special. I offered you all a chance at heaven…and through their actions, Sahara and Gaunt doomed us all to Hell.

(She lowers her head back down and shudders uncontrollably in the middle of the ring. The crowd is at a low murmur, honestly not knowing how to take this spectacle in. And then it happens. Seemingly out of nowhere, plucked from somewhere in her delusional ether…Grace Goeren starts to laugh.)

Grace Goeren: My bitches have finally grown up.

(Standing to her feet, Grace’s attitude looks like it has gone through a complete transformation. She looks determined and vicious, as if the last few minutes didn’t even happen.)

Grace Goeren: So, you two finally got enough sand in your twats and decided to do something about it. Shit, took y’all long enough. So much sand it ought to be a desert down there. Bet Sahara even got a nasty-ass ratchet yeast-cactus growing out between her legs.

(Reaching out for her title belt, Grace drapes it over her shoulder and paces about the ring.)

Grace Goeren: You know, I can’t help but feel just a LITTLE bit proud of what you two did. Before I decided to pluck you both out of obscurity, you were both scared little bitches with no backbone and no convictions. Faceless, nameless pieces of arm candy for much stronger people. I gave both of you purpose and brought you to my level out of the goodness of my heart…so when I finally got tired of you and tossed you aside, you struck back at me the only way you knew how…my way.

(Grace nods her head in approval.)

Grace Goeren: So hey, top marks for that shit, totally Gucci. Hashtag “Proud Teacher”, am I right? But see…that shit that you pulled? Taking away my moment like that? Fucking with my legacy?

(The EWA Combat Champion looks down at her belt and shakes her head.)

Grace Goeren: That is breaking one of the Ten Commandments of Grace and the punishment for that is absolute and total decimation of the body and soul.

(Grace takes a step towards the center of the ring and glares out towards the ramp.)

Grace Goeren: So bitches? Take the cocks out of your mouths, vaginas, assholes, hands, feet, elbows and tits and get down here so I can bring down some divine punishment on both of y’all! You wanted my fucking attention you worthless cuntsteaks? Totes savage, you got that shit now! COME ON OUT!

(White pyro suddenly ignites the stage as the blinding light dims to a eerie red hue as In This Moment’s Adrenalize Me hit’s the PA to raucous cheers. The second the Crimson Queen emerges onto the rampway — dressed in her updated black and silver ring gear — she begins slashing the mic across her throat as she walks down to ringside with a scowl on her face.)

Sahara: Just cut the music. Cut it.

MM: Looks like she means business…

VA: Would you shut up, Malone?

(Taking one step up the ringside steps, Sahara stops and looks up at Grace Goeren. Her former savior. The woman that plucked her from obscurity and helped create … The Crimson Queen.

As she ascends the steps and steps onto the ring apron, she lifts the mic to a waiting Grace Goeren.)

Sahara: You were everything to me, Grace…

(She steps one leg through the ropes.)

Sahara: You truly were … My. God. Queen.

VA: AMEN! Maybe she’s come to her senses!

MM: Shhhhhh!

(Stepping all the way into the ring, Sahara slowly paces the outside of the interior of the ring, her eyes trained on Grace the entire time, and Grace returning the gaze in kind.)

Sahara: I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long…

(Sahara suddenly stops pacing and looks at Grace…)

Sahara: I was the most loyal of any of your angels. The most deserving of your love in return for that loyalty. Ya see, I was your Gabriel to Gaunt’s Lucifer. When you needed someone punished — you always sent me. Because you trusted me to get the job done. Just ask Rick Remington. I snapped that poor kid’s leg before it became cool … and I never looked back. I never even thought to apologize. And why should I? He was beneath us, just like you told me. I never questioned you, Grace. How about Max Goeren? Ya know, yer little brother?! Remember when you sent me to get him and told me let nothing stand in my way?

(Taking a step closer to Grace, she continues…)

Sahara: I stuck that Dani chick’s face into the drywall and beat that poor kid into submission while he begged me to stop…pleading, “Why…why are you doing this?!” Why, he asks?! I was doing it for you, Grace, and I was unwavering in my goal to carry out your orders. And what happened?! I brought you that poor kid…bloody and beaten, and even made him watch while you beat his father with a crowbar … just as you demanded of me…

(She takes another step closer, prompting Grace to lift her head, looking up in the Crimson Queen’s eyes.)

Sahara: And oh yeah, when you wanted Ivory Ike gone? I may not have been alone, but I was there, as always. And he’s gone, Grace.

(She repeats the word…)

Sahara: Gone…

(Shifting the mic to her other hand, a slight smirk forms on her face while her sapphire eyes burn through her former God Queen. Grace stands there and listens to her former right hand with an odd smile of her own.

A proud smile.)

VA: I almost forgot how much she talks–

MM: Would you shut up?!

Sahara: I wasn’t kicked out of paradise because I questioned you…unlike someone we know. No. I was kicked out because you took what shoulda’ been perfect and fucked it up.

No, Grace…you kicked me out because — and how would you put this? — because you were “hashtag” jealous … that when you looked in your rearview, you saw me comin’ on fast…and the name Sahara was gettin’ bigger…and BIGGER! You may have been our Christian Bale, but I became our Heath… fucking… Ledger!

(Turning to the side, Grace nods her head, almost surprised by the arrogance of blonde’s words.)

MM: Ohhhhhh! That’s a reference I’m sure this crowd understands!

VA: Yeah, well, Batman beats the Joker in that!

MM: (Sighs.) You can find a way to twist anything in Grace’s favor, can’t ya?! You know what she meant…

Sahara: When the dirt sheets started writin’ that without Sahara, there was no “God Queen”…that got to you. You never woulda been World Champ without me, and knowing that was like an itch you couldn’t scratch. And you know why?! Because you know it’s true. And you what else is true?! Without ME, you never win … THAT, either!

(Sahara points at the Combat Title which pops the crowd.)

Sahara: The two biggest moments of your career were given to you … by ME. I wasn’t perfect…but I ALWAYS came through for you when it mattered most. But that wasn’t good enough for you, was it?! You just couldn’t share the spotlight…so now I’m just gonna take it.

(As Grace lifts the mic, Sahara holds up a hand, slowly wagging a finger.)

Sahara: One minute, Gracie…because it’s time your co-star became the star. So at Champions Summit, I wanna challenge YOU … for THAT!

(The very second this challenge leaves Sahara’s mouth the speakers blast out “White Angel” by The Lions. Elizabeth Gaunt saunters out through the curtains while twirling a microphone in her nimble hand. She wears a white corset, white slacks, and her snow-white hair is piled atop her head in an elegant bun.)

MM: This just keeps getting worse and worse for Grace Goeren!

VA: Be gone from this arena, Lucifer Morningstar! You have been cast out of Heaven. You have been punished for your pride. Gaunt never deserved the wings that our benevolent God Queen bestowed upon her. This woman has an UNCLEAN SOUL!!!

(Elizabeth lifts the microphone to her lips, taking her time while strolling down the ramp.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: Let’s not lose our heads, ladies…and more importantly? Let’s not forget about lil’ ol me.

(Lizzie points at her own chest with that deranged smirk riding comfortably across her features.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: I still remember the first time I ever laid eyes on you, Grace Goeren. You were this celestial ball of fire, a comet blazing across the EWA sky…and I was seduced into thinking that you were the most badass bitch to ever lace up a pair of boots. I wanted to serve you. I wanted to please you. To be purely fucking honest, Gracie…I wanted to BE you.

(Elizabeth reaches the steel stairs and climbs them one step at a time, taking just a moment to scrub her boots across the apron.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: I once used the words “my life for you”…and I meant those words. I would have died in the service of my God Queen. I might add that the moniker GOD QUEEN was given to you, Grace. You never earned it. Sahara and I…simply paid homage to you with that moniker. And it can be argued that without the Angels at your side…you never would have accomplished much of anything here in the EWA. The Fallout was there when you won the World Championship. And let’s be real, babycakes…you were only able to win that illustrious title…because we helped you get the job done.

(Lizzie steps through the ropes and enters the ring, sizing up both Grace and Sahara.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: I already told you once, Grace…I was made in your image. I was cobbled together from your divine teachings, your ironclad pride, and your superior athleticism. And as I look at you now (Gaunt gestures to Grace with an expression of mild disgust on her face)…I wonder why I ever even believed and promoted the hype?

(She shakes her head almost pitifully.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: A God wouldn’t have lost the World Title. A God wouldn’t have sent Sahara to bust up Max and Remington; she would have done it herself. A God wouldn’t have been humbled by her father. A God wouldn’t have trembled afraid of Isaac Entragian…and BEGGED for us to go and take care of that pallid monster for her. What are you really, Grace? I mean…what is even standing in this ring with me right now?

(Elizabeth shrugs while looking Grace Goeren up and down.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: A scared kid that talks big game? A little girl that hides behind hashtags and trendy buzz words? I’m not looking at a God, Gracie. You’re more like a tapeworm. Just this little manipulative parasite that has to crawl into the mind of a host and get that host to do its bidding. You’re not much different from a flimsy white worm that withers into nothing if it doesn’t have a warm slave to control, amirite?

(Elizabeth smiles and positions her right hand into a gun. She aims the index finger at Grace’s forehead, cocking her thumb back ever so slightly.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: I’m gunning for ya, counterfeit God. I’m taking my shot at Champions Summit, and I’m gonna blow holes all through the façade you present to the EWA masses. Lauren isn’t woman enough to take that Combat Title from you.

(Gaunt squeezes one eye shut and playfully drops her thumb, “shooting” Grace right in the middle of the brow.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: But I am.

(At this comment, an incredulous look crosses Sahara’s face…)

Sahara: Woah there. You forget your place, Lizzie…she wouldn’t even have that title without me, and need I remind you both that I put that fucking title on the map in the first place? ME! Before me, it was a tarnished trophy not worth having — and now it shimmers.

And I don’t care if I gotta go through you AND her — I’ll slay both gods and demons and I’ll do it at the same damn time to reclaim what’s MINE! So I say we give em’ somethin’ they ain’t never seen before…

(Holding her hand up as if imagining the marquee, Sahara opens her hand.)

Sahara: Grace. Gaunt. Sahara. And since we all love to reference the divine and liken ourselves to Gods, Demons and Angels…I say we string that title up high above the ring and have to ascend to glory…in a triple threat LADDER MATCH!

(Upon hearing this, the crowd bursts into cheers!)

MM: Woah!!!


(Having heard enough, Grace grabs Sahara by the wrist and yanks her hand down…)

Grace Goeren: You two cunts are real fuckin’ cute teasing these fans with matches you got no authority to make. Thinking you’re even worthy to be in the same ring as me let alone be deserving at a shot at MY World Combat Title? Naw, naw…we ain’t playin’ that game!

(Grace throws the Combat Championship over her shoulder again and wags her finger at Sahara.)

Grace Goeren: I got no problem ripping a giant gash in each of you from nosehole to asshole in LA…fuck, that’s all I want right now, that’s my dream…but neither of you have earned the right to this belt. So nuh-uh, so sorry, go fuck yourselves. We’ll fucking fight at Champions Summit III, but not for my World championship.

MM: You have got to be kidding me!

VA: Smart move, Grace. Don’t give into these swine!

MM: Grace has done nothing here tonight but talk about how she wants to get her hands on Sahara and Gaunt and then immediately backs out when they throw down the challenge for the Combat Championship!

VA: That’s a champion’s privilege, Malone. Tough titties. They should both be happy our God Queen is even granting them a regular match against her.

(Grace gives her title belt a confident pat before getting back on the microphone.)

Grace Goeren: So now that we have that little piece of business off the table, let me just say that I can’t fucking wait for the Champions Summit. You both have just given me everything I’ve wanted. Attacking you backstage, in the parking lot or in your houses would have been fun…but that’s just not enough for me. I want your final failures to be in front of the whole world…when all eyes are on us…so everyone knows exactly what happens when you fuck with a God.

(The God Queen gives a wink to both Sahara and Gaunt and walks past them, about to exit the ring with her title belt in tow.)

Grace Goeren: See you in Los Angeles, cunts.

(As Grace steps through the middle rope, both Sahara and Gaunt exchange a knowing glance. An unspoken understanding of the situation. Sahara holds out her hand and puts it on the top rope, calling back out to Grace who is on the arena floor and is headed up the ramp.)

Sahara: No you won’t.

(Grace stops and turns, her eyes narrowing.)

Elizabeth Gaunt: I think you might be a bit confused, tweenie princess. If that Combat Championship isn’t on the line…then I won’t be at Champions Summit III.

Sahara: Yeah, Lizzie and I don’t exactly agree on much these days…but she’s makin’ a whole lotta sense right now. You can’t get something for nothin’, Gracie. Either that belt hangs from the heavens in LA or that match ain’t happening!

(Grace looks absolutely furious as she screams out at both Sahara and Gaunt from ringside.)


(Sahara actually breaks into a smile and glances over at Lizzie.)

Sahara: That sounds like a no to me. Oh well. Guess we’ll see you backstage or in the parking lot or…at our houses was it? Isn’t that what you said? Behind closed doors? Away from the spotlight you crave so much?

(The Combat Champion’s face is flush as her eyes dart from Sahara and Gaunt, looking like she’s going to charge the ring. She makes a move to do so but the stares from the former members of the Fallout keep her firmly safe outside the ring. She slams her hand down on the apron and turns away from them, letting out a scream.)


(Sahara shrugs her shoulders and Lizzie takes a step back. The two women exchange a tenuous stare with one another before Sahara exits one side of the ring, hopping the barricade, leaving Lizzie alone in the ring, seemingly ready to leave. Grace is in full panic mode now, screaming again into the microphone.)


(Sahara stops as Gaunt steps one foot through the ropes set to exit before a desperate, screeching voice comes from somewhere towards the ramp.)



VA: And the battle for Heaven begins…

MM: The battle for Heaven?! Must you be so melodramatic?!

(Stepping back into the ring, Elizabeth snatches up a mic still laying on the ring apron. The White Angel smiles wickedly at Grace…)

Elizabeth Gaunt: See? That wasn’t so hard! That’s the Gracie Goeren I know. The sullen toddler of a God that shits her diaper while having yet another rage-gasmic tantrum. Shine up that special toy, lil’ Gracie! Take your fuckin’ pacifier outta your mouth and NUT UP, bitch…cuz I don’t want your spittle staining my Combat Title come Champions Summit III.

(Gaunt’s smirk is pure narcissistic pride, and she twiddles her fingers at Grace in a little mock wave. Making motion for a mic, Sahara reaches over the ringside barricade as a stagehand hands her a live mic. Tapping it a few times, the blonde clears her throat in an exaggerated way with a bit of a smirk on her face.)

Sahara: That’s the best thing about you, Grace…and the most predictable. The second you don’t get what you want, you compromise everything you stand for … just like the spoiled little brat you’ve always been. Just remember, “God Queen”, this is exactly what you wanted. We had paradise…and it wasn’t good enough for you.

(Backing up amongst the fans surrounding her, the Crimson Queen holds her arms out to the side ever so briefly before bringing the mic back to her lips. Glancing at the fans beside her, who are suddenly supporting her, she smiles and looks back at the White Angel and the God Queen…)

Sahara: I’ll see you two at Champions Summit.

(Grace lets out a primal shriek, slamming the microphone down and storming through the curtain as the crowd roars in approval.)

MM: The Fallout goes into battle against each other at Champions Summit III! It’ll be Elizabeth Gaunt, Grace Goeren and Sahara for the EWA Combat Championship in a Ladder Match! What a huge development here tonight!

VA: This is awful, Malone! How dare those insolent treacherous backstabbing….UGH! Grace will teach them once and for all what it’s like to bow to a God Queen!

MM: Let’s head backstage!

(We fade backstage, where everyone’s favorite team, THE LEMONHEADS – Joe Lemon and Serpent Man – are huddled around a television. We hear the frantic sounds of buttons being pressed, and a faint roar of a crowd, as if it were coming from television speakers. Lemon looks up, and a huge grin spreads across his face.)

Joe Lemon: MR. WEST!!

(Lemon drops something on the ground, making a loud crash, and leaves the area, much to Serpent Man’s chagrin!)

Serpent Man: Jossssseph! Come back, I need help on defensssse!

(Lemon pays him no attention, crossing the room to the Masochist of HATE, William West, who appears to be in a surly mood, no doubt due to his upcoming match with his former friend and fellow Pillar of HATE, Maggie McIntyre. Lemon doesn’t seem to notice, as he begins rambling.)

Joe Lemon: Thanks for helping me at the last show, Mr. West! Can you believe someone actually jammed a broom in that closet door? I was in there for HOURS! I even missed my 9:30 lemonade break! But check this out, I found something even better than the Golden Ticket! Come see, Mr. West!

William West: I have a feeling I’m going to regret walking in this direction.

(Lemon seems to not hear West’s protest, literally grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him in front of the television. West gives him an incredulous look, but eventually follows, watching as Lemon leans down to pick up a video game controller. Serpent Man, meanwhile, is frantically writhing around in his chair, moving his body as he controls a car on the screen, racing toward what appears to be an oversized ball.)

Joe Lemon: Check it out, Mr. West! It’s Rocket League, developed by Psyonix! Apparently they’re a new sponsor for the EWA! It’s like soccer meeting driving in an arena setting! You can play seasons, or online, and they’re even holding a tournament soon that’s going to be televised on NBC Sports! Serpent Man and I are going to team up and win the whole thing, Mr. West…and look, I can customize my car! Look at my antenna, isn’t it just the coolest?!

(Indeed, as we see the car Joe Lemon is controlling in the game, we notice that it has a giant lemon attached to the vehicle’s antenna. West facepalms himself, letting out an exasperated sigh.)

William West: You brought me in here to show me cars playing socc-

(Joe cuts him off, seemingly not paying a bit of attention.)

Joe Lemon: We’re playing against these total noobs online right now. I mean look at these usernames! “Nitz”? Freaking Nitz! And “Carla, you know, from Cheers”? I hated Cheers, Mr. West! I always thought WKRP in Cinicnnati was a much cooler show, especially when they would go on the radio an–


(Lemon leaps into the air, wildly swinging his arms as his car careens toward the ball. He misses it badly, and we watch as one of the other team’s cars breaks away, scoring an easy goal against the Lemonheads. For the first time we see the score of the game – our Lemonheads are losing, 12-1.)


William West: You’re an idiot, Joe. Good luck with that virginity.

(West storms away, leaving Lemon and Serpent Man to ponder his words.)

Serpent Man: Okay, Jossseph. I’m defending…

Joe Lemon: Holy cow! Let’s do this!

(We fade to the banner of the EWA’s newest sponsor…)



A lull comes over the crowd, until the lights go dark. A single spotlight, with the shape of a skull with a crown of horns around the brow, hits the entrance to the stage, and the crowd explodes! The Pretty Reckless’ “Heaven Knows” starts to thump through the Combat Zone, and the spot turns into a single purple light, catching the Vice Squad in their pose on the ramp: Lágrima has her head in her hands, Minxy has her hands in a Sailor moon pose to her left, and Santa Muerte stands with her arms crossed to her right. As the chorus hits, the lights explode into brightness, and Lagrima looks up, as pyro explodes in series all the way along the edge of the stage!

NR: This contest is scheduled for one fall, and is a six-man tag team match! Introducing first, at a combined weight of 350 lbs, Lágrima, Minxy Jones, and Santa Muerte, the VICE SQUAD!

MM: This match comes as a rematch of sorts, Vince, after the Minxy Jones/Josh Kaine match from last Battlelines kind of devolved into a mess after Hueso involved himself.

VA: What else would you expect from one half of Long Island Hardcore, Malone? Hueso might play like he’s trying to respect his father-in-law’s memory by coming out here with that mask on, but he’s Jared freakin’ Walsh. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

MM: Well, he doesn’t appear to be here now, Ashe.

VA: He’s a bigger snake than anyone on this roster, Malone. You’d do well not to forget it, and so would his girls.

The three make their way down the ramp, with Minxy chatting up the ringside fans, and Lagrima running to the ring! She hops onto the apron and vaults over the ropes! Santa Muerte slides in, standing behind and to the left of Lagrima as she faces the hard cam, and Minxy slides in front of her in an HBK-esque bicep flex! Lagrima traces the tear lines of her mask, leaning over Minxy, and Santa Muerte raises a fist in the air when the lights go out once more.

NR: And their opponents, at a combined weight of 535 lbs, the EWA World Tag Team Champions, Mojave and Josh Kaine, MOJO and NIKKI CALDWELL!

The champions step through the curtains to the sounds of Alice In Chains, arms raised, with the belts strapped around their waists. Nikki stands between them, raising one each of the champions’ arms, in the classy and timeless “Fuck A Tanya Black” shirt! The Vice Squad offer nods of approval at the choice of attire, as the trio start to make their way to the ring.

MM: There’s at least one thing both of these teams have in common; the Vice Squad were, in the past, pretty critical of Tanya Bl–


Before the three could get halfway to the ring, Hueso sneaks up, cracking his cane over Mojave’s back! The champion goes down, and as Kaine turns around, Hueso drops him to the floor with a shot to the face with the head of the cane!

VA: A snake! I told you, he’s a snake!

The Vice Squad run out of the ring, in shock! Santa Muerte and Lágrima screaming at him in Spanish, while Minxy just yells in English! Hueso barely notices them, screaming down at the fallen Kaine! He brings his cane up, but Lágrima stops him from cracking it down on the Heir of Valhalla!

MM: This is pandemonium! Someone get out here!

Caldwell reaches down, grabbing the belt off of Mojave, and before anyone can come interrupt, she SLAMS it against the back of Hueso’s head! Hueso falls forward, into Minxy, knocking her off the ramp and to the floor! Lágrima turns, and gets a face full of title belt for her troubles, too, knocking her to the floor as well! Santa Muerte’s face contorts into a look of rage under the mask, and as Caldwell swings the belt wildly, she ducks, catching Nikki with a kick to the gut that doubles her over! Santa Muerte hooks Caldwell’s arms in a double underhook, and goes for the Sombrabomb– but security is finally out to break it up!

VA: Finally!

MM: It looks to me like Hueso’s gone rogue, Vince! What the hell has gotten into him?!

VA: Why are you so surprised, Malone? He’s always been one of the dirtiest players in the game!

MM: But that’s not how the Vice Squad has operated since they returned at Battlelines 25, Ashe! Laying out the champs, screwing over TWO separate matches? It’s madness!

VA: I just can’t believe, after all this time, the Vice Squad didn’t see this coming! They’ve known him for a long time, Malone! He’s married to one!

MM: It doesn’t make any sense! There’s gotta be a reason besides “he could!”

The Vice Squad and Hueso break from security, and start to head back to the locker room, as the champions get on their feet! Before anything more can happen, Hueso tries to charge them again! He doesn’t get far, with his bum leg slowing him down enough that Santa Muerte and Minxy hold him back! Lágrima gets in front of him and starts to push him back through the curtain!

Kaine holds a hand to his mouth and nose, both a bit bloody, while Mojave checks the back of his skull, with Caldwell trying to tend to both of them! Kaine hooks an arm under Mojave’s arms, as he and Nikki start to make their way to the back!

VA: If I were the champs, I’d be pretty pissed off!

MM: I mean, I would too, but I’d be just as mad if I were the number one contenders!


MM: Up next, Ashe, we’ve got the makings for one hell of a match up.

VA: You mean me and the all of the women on the roster?

MM: No, I’m talking about the debut of former SHOOT Project star Alex Brooks, as he takes on Joe Lemon, assuming Lemon’s finished playing Rocket League.

(The crowd, originally silent at first, has started to generate a buzz around the arena, especially right by the commentary area behind Ashe and Malone…)

VA: I know these fans behind me seem to be excited about it, but frankly, I’ll still be dreaming about the ladies for the next 20 minutes or so.

MM: Well, while you’re dreaming about a reality that will never happen, we’ll head up to the ri… what the…?

(Malone jolts forward in his seat, and as we back up a bit, we see what bumped into him that caused him to stop mid-sentence. Dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, grabbing a microphone off the table with an arm wrapped in a white plaster cast, ‘Perfection’ Martin Robertson storms past the announce table, rolling under the bottom rope and marching straight to the center of the ring. The crowd at this point is a mix of buzzed curiosity and generic anger towards one of the Kings of the EWA. But the curiosity quickly goes awa…)

Martin Robertson: Just shut your mouths and listen, because I’ve got something that I need to get off my chest!

(Now the entire arena has joined in the jeers of the second generation superstar, who looks as if he could care less about what the fans are doing…)

MM: That will get them to listen…

VA: Shut up, Malone! Not everyone is as disrespectful as you are.

Martin Robertson: The amount of disrespect…

VA: See, Marty caught you!

Martin Robertson: … The disrespect that has been taking place over the past month and a half has been ridiculous, and it’s about time that I did something about it!

VA: Damn right, Martin!

Martin Robertson: … Because you see, there’s been a lot of talk about a lot of people around here in regards to Champions Summit, but the one person they haven’t been talking about is Martin Robertson, and that’s a load of crap!

VA: That’s right!

MM: That’s because he’s been out for the past month with a broken arm!

VA: That’s no excuse!

Martin Robertson: I call myself Perfection because that is what I am. I call myself the young King of the EWA because that… Is what… I am. I am in this business, in this ring, standing in front of you deadbeat people because I am the single greatest wrestler in the world today…

VA: The man’s not wrong…

MM: Sure, if you take out every champion, every person that’s been active the past month and a half, the staff….

Martin Robertson: … And the fact that I do not have a match at Champions Summit in three weeks is a bunch of crap! I am…

(The crowd has picked up their intensity of jeering at Martin, almost a blatant attempt to drown him out from continuing to speak. Martin pauses, looking out at the crowd, noticing their attempts to drown him out. But he’s got something on his mind, and continues on over the loud chorus of boos from the crowd.)

Martin Robertson: I am the single greatest talent to have stepped foot in this ring, first, second or any generation! I have the record for the longest individual title reign in the history of this sport, and all it’s gotten me since then is crapped on by you ignorant people, all the…

(Cue the jeers once again, still building louder and louder)

Martin Robertson: … all the production people in the back… hell, half the people on this roster should be kissing my ass for carrying this organization throughout 2016 because if it wasn’t for me…

MM: Carry the organization?!?

VA: He is the one who defeated HATE at The Final Solution…

MM: Lot of good that did… they’re still around!

Martin Robertson: … If it wasn’t for me showcasing my talents week in, week out, all across the globe, nobody would have tuned in to this piece of crap organization to begin with!

MM: Now hold on … I think …

VA: Does it matter what you think?

MM: What?

VA: I’ve always wanted to do that to someone.

Martin Robertson: I’ve had to sit back and play second fiddle around this organization because, as I’ve been told countless times, “It simply wasn’t my time yet…” or “You’re not ready yet, baby, to challenge for that title.” Yet you look at half the jokes that they call “competitors” around here, and how I’m not constantly headlining each and every event this company puts on proves just how far everyone has their head shoved up their own asses!

MM: Does he realize that the people running this company are his own mentor, Alexander Haven and his wife, Alyssa Marie Haven?

VA: I don’t know if he really cares at this point, Malone! Marty seems to be planting his flag in the ground.

(Martin pauses for a moment, catching his breath before switching hands with the microphone, looking down at the cast wrapped around his right arm..)

Martin Robertson: I’ve been told that I can’t compete because I fractured both the ulna and radius bones in my right arm…

(Martin looks up at the crowd for a moment)

Martin Robertson: Those are the medical names for your forearm bones. I know, it’s medical terms and about fifteen grades higher than your level of education because you’re all a bunch of morons, but bear with me for a moment…

(Martin looks back down at this arm)

Martin Robertson: There’s an old saying about rules, though, and just like what happened to my arm just over a month ago, they should be broken…

(Martin, dropping the mic on the mat, begins to pull at the cast with his left hand, removing it completely from his arm before dropping the cast on the mat and stomping away at it, before picking the microphone back up from the mat. He then reaches into his jeans pocket, pulling out a piece of paper that’s been rolled and folded a few times. He unfolds the paper, looking down at it before bringing the microphone back up to his face…)

Martin Robertson: What I’ve got in my hand here, which I was able to obtain from Alyssa Marie Haven earlier tonight, are two pieces of paper. One waves the EWA from any liability should I re-injure my arm. The second…

MM: Re-injure his arm?

Martin Robertson: … The second, is a contract. An open contract…


Martin Robertson: … for Champions Summit Three…


Martin Robertson: … to take on anyone that has the balls to step foot in the ring with me!

MM: Oh my god!

Martin Robertson: I don’t care if you already have a match or not, I don’t care what kind of match you want to have, I am going to do what I do at each and every show that this godforsaken company continues to forget to do when they have the greatest talent in the business today. I’m going to steal the show, and I’m going to make each and every person recognize that the one person they should be talking about, walking out of Champions Summit, is “Perfection” Martin Robertson!

VA: Damn right they should!

MM: What about your God Queen, Grace Goeren? Or what about the other King, Alexander Haven?

VA: What about them? This is Martin’s time!

MM: They all can’t be on top.

VA: Sure they can… the unholy trinity! Read up on your scriptures… Second book of Grace, Chapter 4, ver…

Martin Robertson: So if you’re looking for me to make you famous at Champions Summit, drag your ass down to the ring right now and put your name on the contract!

(Martin pulls out a pen from his pocket, signing his name on both of the papers…)

Martin Robertson: I don’t care if it’s anyone from the stupid Goeren family…

VA: Yeah… uhh…

Martin Robertson: … anyone from the Hot Topic support group…

VA: Hot Topic support group?

MM: I assume he means HATE…

Martin Robertson: … or even ‘The Incompetent’ Chris Kage… or even…. Or even the reigning king, Alexander Haven…


VA: Easy, Martin! Watch who you’re calling out there….

Martin Robertson: I’m sick and tired of this shit, and I’m putting an end to it tonight! You got the guts? Come sign the damn contract!

(Martin throws the microphone down to the mat, looking back towards the entrance ramp, yelling for people to come down to the ring…)

MM: Martin Robertson is on the warpath, folks! He wants a match at Champions Summit, and he’s willing to take on anyone, it seems, even his own mentor, Alexander Haven!

VA: And it doesn’t look like he’s going to leave until he gets what he wants!

(Almost inaudibly, we can hear Martin screaming from the ring towards the locker room. He’s throwing out almost every name he can think of for people on the roster, but as the seconds begin to pile up, it becomes clear that there doesn’t seem to be anyone willing to answer the call. Martin reaches back down to pick up the microphone…)

Martin Robertson: See how ridiculous this is!?! A couple of no talent, C-minus hacks from twenty years ago come out here airing their ‘My So-Called Life’ high school teenage angst, and that crap gets more attention than a highly-trained athlete that is a better WRESTLER in this business than any of them could ever imagine being!

VA: He’s not talking about me, is he?

MM: No, I don’t think so.

Martin Robertson: All these second-generation pieces of trash that have entered the EWA simply because they had a first-generation parent that was a piece of trash in this business, and they’re featured more around here than a multi-sport champion who’s been around the world because of his talents, not because mommy and daddy felt guilty for being gutter pieces of trash parents that…


MM: Can we get someone to cut Martin’s mic? I think he’s starting to go a little far here…

Martin Robertson: … Or how about a couple of legends from twenty years ago that think they can come back and relive their semi-glory from the past, taking time away from the TRUE talents in the business like myself who…

(Suddenly, the arena goes pitch black which, fortunately for us, also cuts off Martin’s microphone. But it’s also cut off the microphones of Malone and Ashe, which could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on your view of the duo. The flashes of lights from people’s cellphones in the arena attempt to brighten things up to give us a glimpse of what’s happening, but aside from showing us that Martin is moving around inside the ring similar to how images would look with a strobe light, we see nothing. We hear nothing, other than the murmur of the crowd, who is trying to figure out just exactly what is happening.)

(The seconds continue to pass as the murmur in the arena seems to be amplified, causing us to wonder what exactly has taken place in the arena, such as if there was an electrical failure in the ring, or if a storm knocked the power out of the arena. But we start to realize that the amplified murmur is coming through the arena speakers, as we start to also hear a soft piano playing through the speakers as well…)


MM: Get a hold of yourself, Ashe! Are we back on? Can anyone hear us?


VA: What the hell is that?


MM: It’s music, but for what…

(Suddenly, the entire arena is illuminated, if only for a brief second, by four plumes of fire shooting out, one from each other around the ring. From the quick image that we get by the flames lighting the arena, we still see Martin standing in the ring, holding the pieces of paper from earlier. However, once the quick burst of flames dies out, so does the light in the arena again.)


(As the music slowly picks up over the loudspeakers, again, four more pillars of fire shoot up from the corners, once again illuminating the arena for a brief second. The glimpse we see of Martin is him now looking around the arena, trying to figure out just exactly what’s happening…)


(Again, four more plumes of flame emerge from the corners. This time, though, our focus is above Martin, as the cage that was hanging above the ring has started to make it’s way down from the rafters, and is a lot farther along in reaching the ring than we would have expected…)


(For the fourth time, and these seem to be rhythmically in tune with the music playing throughout the arena, four more plumes of flames shoot from the corners. This time, though, the brightness they give off shows that the cage has now reached the ring, and Martin is stalking around the ring, looking for a possible exit from the structure, but not finding any…)


MM: What the hell is going on?

VA: Like I have a clue!


(As the music picks up in intensity, the lights are still out in the arena, but the flashes from cameras in the crowd show that the cage has stopped moving, and the silhouette of Martin walking around the ring, still holding the pieces of paper in his hand. However, a second silhouette has appeared on the stage, slowly walking from around the corner of the jumbotron towards the middle of the entrance stage…)

VA: I don’t think this is good for Martin.

MM: Really?


(Suddenly, all of the lights come up in the arena, and the crowd erupts into an absolute frenzy)



VA: NO!!!



(Indeed, the legendary Grady Smith stands at the top of the entrance ramp, dressed in his traditional long black leather duster and worn leather cowboy hat, looking down at both Martin and the cage that now surrounds the ring. Martin, full of panic and frenzy a minute ago, is now standing in the center of the ring, looking up at his legendary father. While the music continues to play in the background, Grady slowly begins to make his way to the ring, causing Martin to run around the ring, attempting to find an exit from the cage, unsuccessfully…)

MM: We haven’t heard a peep about Grady since the vicious attack on him almost two months ago!

VA: Greatest two months of my life!

MM: But he’s here tonight, and he’s on a death march to the ring! Is he here to answer Martin’s challenge?

VA: Well, I can’t imagine that Grady would make himself seem bigger than he really is just to say hi.

(As Grady reaches the steps into the ring, Martin returns to the center of the ring to look at Grady, trying to figure out what he’s doing. Once on the top step, Grady reaches up and opens the door to the cage, slowly opening the door, climbing through the ropes, then reaching back and closing the door behind him…)

VA: Why didn’t you open the door, Martin?

MM: I don’t think he knew there was a door there…

VA: Me either, to be honest.

(Grady strides up to confront Martin face to face, and you can see the anger of the entire situation build up in Martin’s facial expressions. Grady, meanwhile, just stares down towards his son from underneath the brim of the leather hat. Not willing to be shown up any longer, Martin, with the papers now in his left hand, swings with his right, nailing Grady on the side of the head, knocking the leather hat off, showing the scar across the top of Grady’s forehead from when they threw him through the glass championship belt case two months ago. Grady’s head snaps back from the punch, but immediately returns to stare down Martin once again.)

VA: What a shot by Martin!

MM: But it had no effect on the legend!

(Martin swings wildly once again, connecting for a second time. But again, Grady is immediately back to stare down Martin…)

VA: These are big time shots, Malone!

MM: But again, Grady is just absorbing them and standing tall in front of his son!

(Martin goes for a third right hand, but Grady dodges this one and, as Martin stumbles past Grady, Grady bends down to pick Martin up from behind…)

MM: Look at Grady just stand there, holding Martin…. CHOKEBUSTER!


MM: He just planted his son Martin right in the center of the ring!

(As Martin lays face down in the center of the ring, Grady squats down next to him, saying something to him that the microphones can’t pick up. After a few seconds, he looks over to Martin’s left hand, still holding the papers and pen from earlier.)

VA: He’s not going to, is he?


VA: Why, Grady?

(Grady takes the papers that he just signed, placing them down right next to Martin’s head before reaching over, picking up his hat and placing it back on his head before heading to exit the cage…)

MM: Martin has his match for Champions Summit 3, and as if we didn’t have one legendary rematch taking place, we now have two! Martin Robertson versus Grady Smith!

VA: When will this guy ever give up?

MM: What a Champions Summit we’re going to have now!

(As the cage surrounding the ring begins to rise back into the rafters, Grady stops at the top of the entrance ramp for a moment, looking back over his shoulder towards the ring to see officials now trying to help Martin back to his feet…)

MM: What a return! Grady Smith is back in the EWA, and he’s just signed a contract to face his son, Martin Robertson, once again at Champions Summit!

VA: Does this guy ever get sick of trying to show everyone else up? All the theatrics just to sign a contract?

MM: I’m getting goosebumps over this! Let’s head to the back.

VA: I’m getting sick…


NR: The following contest is set for one fall!

Alex Boye’s “Lemonade” kicks on, and out comes “The Most Refreshing Man Alive”, the master of the Lemon Drop himself….

NR: Introducing first, from Lemon City, Florida…….Jooooooooooooooooe…

Crowd: LEMON!

Lemon has a good time as he makes his way down to the ring for his match!

VA: I hate this guy!

MM: Why? Because he’s always in a good mood? Always optimistic?

VA: He’s ugly!

MM: Really? You’re calling someone else ugly?

VA: What are you implying, Malone? I’m a huge hit with the ladies!

MM: If by “ladies” you mean “the all you can eat buffets” then yes. Yes you are.

Lemon gets to the ring, and then he, and many others, begin to clutch their ears.

Ear piercing static permeates the arena, as Alex Brooks walks out in his grey Denver Broncos hoodie with the hood up, blue jeans and black combat boots. In his right hand, he carries a trusty aluminum baseball bat. He starts and stares at the ring for a few brief moments and then reaches up and flicks his hood off. He makes his way down to the ring, twirling his baseball bat like a baton as he walks. He slides in under the bottom rope and perches his himself on the nearest turnbuckle.

NR: And his opponent, from Aurora, Colorado….Aleeeeeeeex Broooooooooks!

MM: Here is another SHOOT Project alumnus, ready to make his go of it in the EWA! He’s a former Rule of Surrender Champion in Las Vegas, and actually beat former Tapout Champion X-Calibur to win that title!

VA: So he beat a guy that dressed like a dragon? Big deal! Let’s talk about current events, and how he has a long history with another newcomer here; Cronos Diamante!

MM: Regardless, Brooks is out to carve his own path, not go back to his past! Let’s see what the young man is made of!

Brooks started the match off quickly, rushing Lemon as soon as the bell rings, dropping him with a running knee strike!

MM: Brooks takes control of Lemon early!

VA: I swear you haven’t seen a single Joe Lemon match ever the way you talk!

Brooks kept control for the entirety of the contest, turning it into a clinic to show off his skills.

He charged Lemon into the corner the moment that the Most Refreshing Man Alive got to his feet. Brooks then grabbed Lemon by the head and took him back to the center of the ring with s huge running bulldog! Lemon’s face barely has time to bounce off the canvas before Alex
Brooks is running the ropes, snapping a lightning fast leg drop to the back of Lemon’s head!

MM: This kid is certainly quick!

VA: And he doesn’t screw around! I like that!

Brooks pulls Lemon to his feet, and takes him over with a double underhook suplex!

And immediately, Brooks hooks on a Cobra Clutch, wrapping his legs around Lemon’s body for extra pressure!

MM: He call that the Aurora Clutch! Lemon has nowhere to go!

VA: Hoo boy! Looks like we’re getting some fresh squeezed tonight, Malone!

Lemon hangs on for a moment before slapping the canvas, and the ref calls for the bell!

NR: Here is your winner…. Alex Broooooooks!

The ref moves in, but Brooks isn’t releasing the hold! Finally, David Tucker moves in and physically separates the two, Brooks seemingly wanting things to continue.

MM: Some aggression shown by Brooks tonight in a huge win!

VA: I tell ya, Malone. This kid is gonna go far, here! Loved it! Made short work of the Lemon Jerk!


(As the camera cuts to the back near the interview area of the arena, we find Rocket League star Serpent Man standing next to the set talking to one of the EWA production assistants. The assistant seems to be trying to multitask, looking down at a clipboard in his hands as he occasionally looks up at the other half of the Lemonheads, nodding to show he’s listening. We hear a loud clanking sound coming from off camera when suddenly, we see a hand shove Serpent Man away from the assistant into a set of production crates a few feet away from him. The assistant looks up to see that Serpent Man is no longer in front of him. Instead, he’s been replaced by an enraged ‘Perfection’ Martin Robertson. The eyes of the assistant widen like saucer plates before Robertson grabs him by the back of the head, throwing him into the pile of crates that’s already been toppled over by Serpent Man a few seconds earlier. Martin stops and looks around, trying to see if anyone else is around. He notices the cameraman standing there, filming the entire situation…)

Martin Robertson: Where’d that son of a bitch go? WHERE’D GRADY GO?

Cameraman: I… I think he left already…

Martin Robertson: GOD DAMN IT!

(Martin turns around and rips down the fabric being used as the backdrop for the interview area, tearing it in half down the middle. The one side is completely on the ground. The other side is dangling from the far end that was holding it up. Martin turns back towards the camera…)

Martin Robertson: You film this, and you show it to that old, decrepit bastard! You want to come out here, and ruin MY moment? You want to take MY spotlight away from me once again? You want to hijack MY chance at glory, just like you’ve done all of the other times??

(Martin, in a fit of rage, rips his shirt off over his head, slamming it to the ground…)

Martin Robertson: Champions Summit, I’m going to end your career, Grady! You signed the contract, but I’m making a change! Martin Robertson… Grady Smith… and that steel cage Boden’s using for his Human Torch match… I’m going to use it on you! That’s right…

(Martin, still raging, rips down the other half of the interview set, before turning back towards the camera once again…)

Martin Robertson: STEEL CAGE MATCH, GRADY! No more of this sneak attack and run away crap… I’m going to make you bleed, Grady! Worse than I did when we slammed you through that glass case! Son of a bitch! Is this what you wanted, Grady? You want to see the youth gone wild?

(Martin walks towards the cameraman, getting uncomfortably close… to the point where his enraged, bright red face is taking up almost the entire picture on the screen, but with a sense of calm…)

Martin Robertson: What you’re going to get, Grady Smith… What I’m going to do, Grady Smith… at Champions Summit… I, Grady Smith… I am going to end your career, your life… once… and for all.

(As Martin steps back away from the camera a couple of steps, he sees out of the side of his eye Serpent Man starting to stand back up from the pile of production crates. Without hesitation or care, Martin grabs him by the back of the head and slams him into the ivory cinder block wall, sending him back down to the floor. He takes one step back towards the camera, burning a hole through the screen with his icy, cold, focused stare into the lens…)

Martin Robertson: Hail to the King.

(Martin turns around and stomps on Serpent Man once for good measure before walking back down the hallway, leaving us with only carnage and the audible screams of frustration and anger emanating from the Youth King…)


No music plays and out comes the Manster, Sammy Rochester! He is wasting little time coming to battle.

NR: Introducing first…….Sammy Rochester!

MM: This man is truly frightening!

VA: What’s frightening is seeing Laura Seton without make up. No thank you.

Rochester stalks to the ring, frightening two small children in his way.

“Moth Into Flame” kicks on, and out comes his opponent!

NR: From Cardiff, Wales, weighing in at 200 pounds, “Rrrrrrred Hot!” Rayyyyyyyyy! WILLLLLLLLLLMOOOOOOOOOTT!

MM: And here comes the former EWA Champion!

VA: Hey, Malone, do you think Ray Ray is looking a little tense?

MM: He does seem a little off his game, yes.

VA: Like maybe he’s not been getting his daily allowance of Milk and Cookies?

MM: Things are certainly tense between him and Laura and Willmott, that’s for sure.

VA: I’ve got a box of Kleenex and half a bottle of Jergens. That should straighten him out.

MM: I should have known you’d- half a bottle?

VA: You see, sometimes when I’m lonely..


Both men are in the ring now and the bell is rung!

Rochester took advantage of a seemingly distracted Ray Willmott early on, and began to punish the former EWA Champion with his ungodly power. He lifted Willmott off his feet with a series of moves that would shatter a normal man’s spine, including a throw that would send Red Hot from one corner of the ring to the other!

MM: Oh Jesus! Ray Willmott had to have flown almost twelve feet in the air!

VA: Well, some people love the sport of dwarf tossing. Problem is, to this monster, Rochester? Were all dwarves.

Ray tried to get some offense going, but it kept seeming like he had other things on his mind, and kept getting overpowered by the much larger, much scarier Sammy Rochester!

MM: Ray Willmott certainly seems off his game tonight.

VA: He needs to stop worrying about his dame, or scones, or whatever it is Welsh people worry about, and focus, because he’s about to become snapped in two right here!

Rochester whips Ray into the ropes, and Willmott dives at the man, fighting for his life!

But he’s caught! Sammy slaps on a huge bear hug and begins to squeeze the life out of Hotpants!

VA: Told you! How’s he gonna break this man’s grip?

MM: Maybe he can-

VA: Nope!

MM: What if he does-

VA: Nope! Sammy Rochester is about to be the envy of El Asso Wipo and break that man’s back with his bare hands!

Willmott is trying to rally, the crowd at large clapping in unison to egg him on! Willmott tries throwing right hands to the face of Sammy, but he may as well be punching a wall!

VA: He’s BITING Sammy Rochester! Look at the cheater!

MM: He’s desperate! He’s got to get Sammy to drop him or this is all over!

Finally Willmott digs his thumb into Sammy’s eye socket, causing the much larger man to drop the former champion! Willmott gathers himself and begins to fire away at a temporarily blinded Sammy, but Rochester shrugs him off!

Willmott rushes right back and begins to fire away with kicks to the much larger man’s legs, attempting to knot up Sammy’s hamstrings!

MM: Oh! Huge headbutt from Sammy and Willmott is back on the ground!

Sammy shakes it off and bends down to pick Willmott up!

MM: Small package by Willmott!

VA: Sammy’s too strong!

Rochester picks Willmott off the ground, still with Rat hanging on to his neck!

And the former World Champ transitions into a guillotine!

VA: How’d he do that?!

MM: He’s got his fists clenched around the monster’s massive neck!

Rochester tries to pry Willmott loose, but Ray’s grip is like iron! He whips around, trying to fling Ray off, but finally, he’s down to one knee!

MM: This massive beast is fading!

Rochester is on both knees now, and then lolls to his side! The referee checks on him!


The bell is rung and an exhausted and hurting Ray Willmott releases the hold and rolls onto his back!

NR: Here is your winner, Rayyyyyyy Willmott!

MM: His distraction nearly cost him here tonight, but Ray Willmott has emerged victorious!

VA: He’s lucky he pulled his head outta his ass or he would have made a fine sandwich for Sammy!


(Willmott cannot control the thoughts in his head. He has started pacing around the ring, looking at the floor, looking around the audience, wincing at the excruciating pain ripping through his body. His mind is full of holes and it seems like whatever focus he’s built up over the last few months has completely evaporated. Just months ago, this man was a World Champion. Now he looks completely lost.

He demands a microphone, huffing and puffing heavily as he waits. The ring announcer slowly obliges but it is quickly snatched from his hands as Willmott runs a hand through his thick hair.

The crowd are not even sure how to react to him at this point.)

Ray Willmott: I can’t do this anymore…

(The words hang in the air and there is a stunned surprise all throughout the arena. It’s a leading statement and one that begs a thousand questions.

What is up with Ray Willmott’s mental state and health right now?)

Ray Willmott: I can’t be the wrestler I want to be. The athlete I can be. The competitor I SHOULD BE until I get something off my chest. Until we get some resolution.

It’s no secret that losing the EWA World Heavyweight Championship has taken almost everything out of me. It hurt losing in The Asylum and what happened in London CRUSHED ME.

I’ve not been the same since. And not least because of the way my relationship has nosedived during and after the greatest moments of my professional career. It’s changed me, it’s changed the way I look at life, the way I fight, the way I think and feel.

(Willmott almost looks lethargic and despondent. Broken. Empty. He’s barely even holding the microphone to his lips.)

Ray Willmott: And I can’t go on like this anymore. I can’t deal with the passive aggressive comments, the arguments. And the looks. Fuck, those glances…

I’m tired, Laura. I’m tired of this back-and-forth. I’m winded and wounded, and I’m at wits end.

I’ve stopped seeing the woman I love and I’ve started seeing bitterness, hatefulness. Things that are breaking my heart…

(He trembles on his words, his lip quivers. It is absolutely destroying Ray to even talk about this. The crowd have fallen to a hushed silence.)

Ray Willmott: So, I’ve been up night after night, wondering what to do. How we get past this. What the next step needs to be.

I don’t want this relationship to end because I love you. I’ve loved you for almost half of my fucking life, whether I knew it or not!

And I don’t want to just ignore this because of the underlying problems that will resurface their ugly head. Whether it’s 2 years, 4, or one night when we’ve grown old together on a worn out old sofa.

So, what the fuck do we do to make this right, Laura? How do we resolve this crazy situation?

(Willmott sighs. His eyes are watering. His heart is heavy.)

Ray Willmott: …We accept that Sinnocence may be right about this one. We accept that she had us figured out from the beginning. Whether we wanted to admit it or not.

That the only way to address this is in the only way that feels natural to the both of us….

As wrestlers.

(He gulps.)

Ray Willmott: In a match. One-on-one at Champions Summit III.

VA: Oh my God!

MM: Wow! The rumours are true!

VA: This crowd has gone ballistic!

(They genuinely have. It’s a dream match. A reluctant match. A necessary match. And the crowd are eating up every last inch of the drama. Ray Willmott just stands in the middle of the ring, not celebrating, not cheering, not even allowing a sly smirk to cross his face. This was a last resort decision. A decision he dreaded having to make. And it has broken him in every way imaginable.)

Ray Willmott: You’ve got aggressions you need to get out of your system. Frustrations. Aggravations. You won’t be happy until you’ve directed those feelings at a target … AND PUT A FUCKING HOLE RIGHT THROUGH IT!

(That’s the most impassioned he’s been since the start of the vignette. Willmott is gritting his teeth, breathing heavier and heavier, his face wincing and his heart pounding.)

Ray Willmott: You’ve chosen to take out your frustrations on me in a way that makes sense to you. And I get it, you deserve to be angry. Who wouldn’t be with the treatment you’ve received around here. You’re talented, beautiful, hard-working, dedicated, smart, and a one-of-a-kind athlete. You should be headlining Pay-Per-Views and carrying gold.

Life is fucking shit sometimes, I get it, but the only way to stop this. The only way to get you what you NEED is beating me at Champions Summit III. Putting down a former World Champion on the EWA’s biggest platform with the eyes of the world watching will launch you into the stratosphere.

And I WANT to be that launchpad for you, Laura. I want you to have it ALL!

(Willmott looks into the eyes of the fans he has pledged to give his health and well-being for in the ring. This is almost a resignation and they sense his fatigue and defeatist nature.)

Ray Willmott: I will give you the match of your life so that when the dust settles and the bell sounds, the world will see your true worth.

So they see the next EWA World Heavyweight Champion. Just as I do.

(Willmott is interrupted by the playing of Vixtrola’s “Gunboat.” As Laura Seton, wearing a gray turtleneck, jeans and black Nikes with her blonde hair down, steps through the curtain, she is greeted with a mixed reaction.)

MM: I have to say, I don’t know what to make of this reaction for her.

VA: You don’t like your celebrity crush being booed?

MM: Wha… Where did THAT come–No! I’m just saying I was expecting something more one-sided either way, boos or cheers. Admittedly more towards booing.

VA: Well I like what I’ve seen out of her! I didn’t know this type of Laura Seton existed, but I hope it stays!

(Reaching the ring, she slides in under the bottom rope, keeping eye contact with Ray as much as possible. She motions for a mic, getting one within a moment. She has a toss of her hair, then speaks.)

Laura Seton: You’re not the only person here that’s confused, Ray.

(She looks at him, her eyes almost expecting a sympathetic look from him in return, but the look he gives her doesn’t match her expectations–causing a scowl to begin forming.)

Laura Seton: Even if we weren’t the closest we had been–

(She holds up crossed right fingers to indicate that tightness.)

Laura Seton: –we’ve still talked. We’ve still held a close relationship–close relative to what most people have, even if it wasn’t our, I guess you could say “spoiled,” version of ‘close.’

(She falls silent as she eyes him up and down.)

Laura Seton: You knew what I was going through. I told you and I told Jada during that whole ordeal why I wasn’t myself. You knew why I was beginning to isolate throughout that.

Ray Willmott: See, there she is again. Jada. You and Jada–

Laura Seton: Oh, shut it, Ray!

(The fans boo at the sudden outburst from her.)

Laura Seton: I’m sorry I actually have a friend around here that’s not interested–

(Her jaw clenches for a second as she scoffs.)

Laura Seton: Maybe this is something you DO need to think more about. Everyone around me was saying after we first became engaged to be careful with what was going on. It had been so long since we were last together and suddenly we’re jumping into marriage. For me? Things clicked like before. Now, you can say what you want and try buttering me up or maybe you’re being honest–I don’t know. You say you’ve loved me somehow, someway for over half your life? Because the patience you’ve shown me most of the time the last few months?


No, I’m not a perfect person to be in a relationship with, BUT–

You get overheated when I don’t say I’m going to see Jada EVEN THOUGH YOU KNOW our coffee times. You get overheated at so many of the tiniest things–I wonder, Ray.

Do you want to love me?

Or just fuck me?

Because you flipping out over some of these small things makes me want to, well, yes. It makes me want to put a fucking hole right through you!

But I haven’t–

Because of Elysha. And I’m not trying to bring her up as some playing some emotional card or whatnot to get an upper hand with you. You’ve got a great kid in her, Ray. But maybe I need to push her aside for a second, figuratively, of course.

I don’t want to hurt her daddy.

But I do want to hurt my fiance.

(Fans again begin booing her.)

Laura Seton: Because while daddy Ray is a kind, sweet person, fiance Ray has become–

A disaster.

Ray Willmott: Fiancee Laura’s been–

Laura Seton: And here we can start another shouting match. Ray?


Ray Willmott: Look, you think I haven’t been going through stuff? I come back to wrestling when the world thought I was dead for EIGHT YEARS! I was living in utter seclusion to protect myself and people I care for. And I have loved being back out here so I can perform for these people, but EVER SINCE I walked back through this door it’s felt like I’ve been trying to rebuild relationships, make apologies, fight battles that never needed to start.

And this … THIS, RIGHT HERE … is just one more of those battles. We don’t have to do this. I DON’T WANT to do this, yet it is something that YOU keep pushing for.

Laura Seton: I love you Ray, but you can be such a stupid idiot sometimes.

Ray Willmott: Don’t you get it? I am giving you this match to SAVE our relationship! So that we can finally get all of tension, all of the bickering and the in-fighting and the resentment and every negative emotion between us out in the open so it can spill out on this mat floor!

So that when you finally best me. Beat me. Prove to YOURSELF that you’re better than me. And mentally get past this achilles heel you have that’s stopping you being the absolute BEST in the EWA, you will rise to the top. You will shine and prosper.

(Ray’s voice eases.)

Ray Willmott: Laura, this is your free pass to kick my fucking ass as much as you need to! No consequences, no comebacks.

Laura Seton: And it’s with that kind of attitude that I can’t wait to whoop your ass!

(She lets go of the mic, causing an audible crash of it to the canvas as she turns away and rolls out of the ring, the crowd again booing her. After a moment, Willmott shakes his head, following behind.)

VA: This is great, Malone! Ray Willmott against Laura Seton, who may not even be his fiancee anymore after this! Champions Summit III is going to be awesome!

MM: This is a sad state of affairs, ladies and gentlemen.

(A camera crew finds us backstage as Allison Haines attempts to get a word in edgewise among a litany of Spanish. Hueso, Santa Muerte, Lágrima, and Minxy Jones stand to her left, in a heated argument, three different Spanish conversations happening at once. She sticks her nose in.)

Hueso: Y necesito esto. Necesitas esto. Nadie te tomará en serio, con la forma en que has estado actuando.

Santa Muerte: ¿Realmente piensas que esto es lo que yo quería? ¿Qué quería mi padre? ¿Para que te cagas en su nombre y reputación?

Lágrima: Debe estar avergonzado de sí mismo. Estás haciendo nuestras vidas innecesariamente difíciles.

Minxy Jones: Good grief, now I know how CJ felt.

Allison Haines: Minxy, I’ve just gotten word that at Champions S¡ummit 3, when the Vice Squad takes on MoJo for the EWA World Tag Team Championship, a stipulation has been added that would bar Hueso from the ring. What’s your opinion on this?

(Hueso interrupts, angrily shouting at the camera.)

Hueso: ¡Chinga tu madre! Y lo hice, Josh Kaine.

Santa Muerte: ¡Sal de aquí!

(Santa Muerte shoos Hueso out of frame. We can hear them, still yelling in Spanish, as they eventually fade away. Lágrima and Minxy remain.)

Minxy Jones: Good. I hope it humbles him. I don’t know what’s gotten into him to think that he can override our agency and not let us deal with our problems on our own. It’s maddening.

Lágrima: I get it. He’s still grieving. We all are. But we’re more than capable of taking care of this on our own, and that’s exactly what’s going to go down at Champions Summit. Mojave, Josh, Nikki… I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. You guys deserved better than this. And that asshole is gonna get a whole lot of pain for fucking this up for all of us.

Minxy Jones: I promise you, at Champions Summit 3, we will do whatever we have to in order to keep this match fair. If Hueso’s barred from ringside, that just makes things infinitely easier.

Lágrima: We owe it to Roberto to prove we can be the best tag team in this company, and we owe it to you to give you a fair chance to prove us wrong. I look forward to putting you to the test.

Minxy Jones: And hopefully we’ll do it with less Spanish. I have no idea what you guys were talking about.

Lágrima: Don’t worry about it. Thanks, Allison. Keep up the good work and don’t let the bastards grind you down.

(The pair shuffle off-frame as we fade to ringside.)


MM: Ladies and gentlemen, at this time, let’s join our returning colleague Terry Bull who has the honor of presiding over tonight’s historic contract signing between Alexander Haven and Chris Kage.

VA: Oh, boy, I can’t wait to see what Bull fucks up this time!

MM: Jesus, Vince. Language!

VA: Oh, fuck you too, Malone! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

MM: Let’s be professional here! Eh…fuck it.


(Indeed, Terry Bull, dressed in a tuxedo with a bow tie stands in the ring, in front of a table covered in a black cloth. Fine black carpet has been laid out upon the ring, and the ropes have even been changed to a gold color. Two sets of fine leather chairs sit on either side of the table.)

Terry Bull: Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor and yours to witness this historic event this evening, as the brave and just Alexander Haven signs a contract to defend his World Heavyweight Championship AND honor against the low life, scum of the earth Chris Kage!

(The crowd boos, obviously sensing that Bull has been put up to such an introduction by Haven.)

MM: Here we go again…

VA: Here we go again with what?! The truth! I’ve always respected Terry as a journalist!

MM: You once burned the man’s wallet in front of him. Just for, and I quote, “funsies.”

VA: And we both had a great time! We’re old buddies!

Terry Bull: Introducing first…a man who should consider himself lucky to even breathe the same air as the greatness of Alexander Haven…a man who has literally been dragged to every accomplishment he’s ever had by the One True King…a man who would be living under a bridge in Buffalo, New York if not for the kindness of our owner and CEO…

Chris Kage.

MM: Not the most enthusiastic and entirely accurate introduction of one Chris Kage.

VA: You’re worse than that Alex Jones guy! Always making things up!

MM: Where’s Kage’s music? (grabs his headset) I’m getting word from backstage that we’re having some technical difficulties, so the crew has had to make do with what’s available to them!

VA: The show must go on!

(Finally, music starts for Kage’s entrance…)



(Chris Kage does indeed come through the entrance with Stacy Vandervort, looking understandably angered at the entrance music.)

MM: What is this crap?!

VA: DuckTales, Malone! We might solve a mystery!

MM: Dear god…

VA: Or rewrite history!

MM: I’m sure the Havens would love to rewrite history.

(Kage and Stacy make their way into the ring, and take their seats behind the table that has been set up mid ring for the monumental contract signing.)

Terry Bull: And now…I must request that you refrain from flash photography and show your appreciation with a polite standing ovation for this next man and all he’s accomplished. Because of this man we all here today and lucky enough to bask in his glory. I introduce to you a man who needs know introduction, your EWA Owner, CEO, and reigning and forever EWA World Heavyweight Champion, Alexander Haven!

MM: Something tells me those production difficulties we were having will be mysteriously cleared up.

(Strangely, Haven’s theme does start playing as the lights go out…but it’s the theme of the Youth, “Anthem for the Year 2000” instead. Haven steps out into the stage into a single spotlight, dressed in a suit with the title draped over his shoulder. Alyssa Marie saunters out behind him, smirking as the vocals kick in.)


(Haven and Alyssa share a kiss, before heading down the ramp towards Chris Kage and Stacy Vandervort who remain in the ring. Kage has a seething anger about him and rises from the chair, but Stacy quickly whispers to her husband urging him to sit down. The song continues as Haven and Alyssa enter the ring.)

MM: This is ridiculous! This song has clearly been altered to insult Kage and his lovely wife!

VA: Sounds the same to me. I have no idea what you’re talking about.

MM: You’re in on this! I know it!

VA: You should make an appointment with Dr. Pope, Malone. I’m worried about you.

(The music stops, as Haven and Alyssa sit down in their seats, Alyssa glaring menacingly at Stacy Vandervort. Haven leans over the table, extending his hand to Chris Kage who glares at him, making no effort to return the offered handshake. Haven pulls his hand back, looking offended.)

Terry Bull: Now, being the upstanding human being he is, Mr. Haven has agreed to not engage in fisticuffs with you this evening, Christopher.

Chris Kage: Oh boo fucking hoo, what’s the fucking coward to scared to speak for himself? Ya got a vag under that ladies suit you’re sporting tonight, Alex? What is that anyways? Calvin Klein? Dolce and Gabanna? Oh no, oh no, I bet I know, you probably just picked that out of Alyssa’s closet, didn’t you, ya fucking jerk off.

Terry Bull: As I said, Christopher, Mr. Haven hopes you would honor this gentleman’s agreement, until the signing of our contract in mere moments, which makes the no contact clause official. Do you agree?

(Haven nods with approval at Terry, who wipes sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.)

Chris Kage: Oh for Christ sakes, Terry, whatever the douchebag wants. At least until the main event tonight, where I intend to do to him what Stacy here did to lil Alyssa last time we were all lucky enough to be together. Ya know, with it being “official competition” and all…

(Kage glares at Haven, leaning forward over the table. Bull sweats more suddenly, as he glances at Haven nervously. Haven leans back, smirking and motions for Bull to carry on.)

Terry Bull: Regarding tonight’s main event, Mr. Haven regrets that he is unable to compete as he has recently strained a muscle training for Champion’s Summit and is not medically cleared for competition this evening.

(Kage shakes his head, mouthing “can you believe this shit” to Vandervort. Haven holds his hand out and points at his pinky finger with the opposite hand, mocking pain. Kage lets out an exasperated grunt of anger.)

Chris Kage: Of course he isn’t cleared, why would he be? We are talking about the biggest pussy this place has ever seen after all. And no, I’m not talking about you, Alyssa, because to call that thing between your legs a pussy, would be a disservice to women everywhere. I think in Buffalo we just call that thing… Beef on Weck.

(The crowd explodes with cheers at the “low blow” taken by Kage, as Alyssa hisses back at him, throwing out expletives we can’t quite make out.)

Chris Kage: Why should I even be surprised, you won’t even talk for yourself, Alex, you just use Terry here as your fucking puppet. How could I really expect you to stand up and fight like a man.

Terry Bull: Mr. Haven has elected to take the high road this evening and not engage in a pointless and petty war of words which would only serve to rile you up even more. Quite frankly, he finds what you did last week reprehensible and wishes to settle this matter in the ring.

(Kage laughs, taking a moment to bask in the glory of his actions from the last Battlelines. With a smile he grabs a pen from the table and reaches down to sign the contract, never taking his eyes off of Haven. When he finishes, Haven himself leans forward and grabs a pen, he begins to leaf through the contract, making sure everything meets his standards. Then with a stoic look, he signs the contract and once again leans back in his seat. Kage raises the mic to his lips once more, to offer a final parting shot.)

Chris Kage: No way out now, bitch. See ya soon.

(Kage drops the mic and takes Stacy by the arm as they begin to make their way out of the ring.)

Alexander Haven: Wait wait wait a minute, I almost forgot. Alyssa, how rude of us? We forgot the gift! Do you have the card for Chris and Stacy? The wedding gift?

(Kage shakes his head, and grabs Stacy by the arm, leading her to exit the ring.)

Alexander Haven: Chris, I promise…you’re going to want to see what’s in this envelope.

Alyssa Marie Haven: Well, Chris may not want to…

(Alyssa turns toward Stacy, a look of pure hatred on her face.)

Alyssa Marie Haven: But you definitely will…

MM: I don’t like this one bit.

VA: Another gesture of kindness from the One True King and Queen Bitch and you still find fault! You’re despicable, Malone!

MM: Somehow I’ll sleep tonight.

(Vandervort looks to Kage, who again motions for her to leave. She pulls free of his grip and steps towards Bull, who has taken ownership of the envelope. She cautiously takes it from him as Kage throws his hands in the air behind her in frustration.)

MM: What could be in that envelope?

VA: A card and a gift certificate to Pier One if I had to guess!

MM: I highly doubt that…

(Vandervort opens the envelope, and unfolds a single sheet of paper. The camera catches the words “Marriage License” at the top, but before we can see anything else Vandervort crumples up the paper and shoves it in Kage’s chest. Kage looks puzzled as Stacy walks briskly out of the ring and towards the backstage area, wiping tears from her eyes. He glances down at the paper and glares at Haven once more, before taking off after his wife.)

Terry Bull: Ladies and gentleman, I would like to humbly thank Mr. Haven once more for the honor of presiding over this historic contract signing.

Alexander Haven: Stop sucking up, Terry. You’re suspended immediately without pay. Get out!

(Bull looks flabbergasted, but has learned better than to stick around. He heads towards the back as Haven rises to his feet and holds his hands in the air and we cut back to the announcers.)

MM: This is ridiculous! What did that marriage license say that got Stacy so worked up?

VA: Who knows. Women, Malone. Not that you know anything about them.

MM: And Terry suspended once more! He kissed Haven’s ass that whole time!

VA: Exactly, who asked him to be so biased? I mean he’s right but…very unfair!

MM: Backstage. Please. I can’t do this anymore.

(As the camera cuts backstage, we see the image of Grady Smith walking down a dark gray hallway towards the parking garage area. Still wearing the black duster and black leather hat, we watch as Allison Haines comes up from behind him, going to the side of Grady…)

Allison Haines: Grady! Can I get a quick word with you?

(Grady stops, and with very little motion, he turns slightly towards Allison, looking down at the blonde reporter.)

Allison Haines: Grady, it’s great to see you back in the EWA again after everything that happened.

(Speaking in a very soft, reserved voice)

Grady Smith: Thank you, Allison.

Allison Haines: So we just saw you accept Martin’s challenge for a match at Champions Summit. What are your plans now that you’re back? Are you going to continue to feud with your son Martin? Are you going to try and reclaim the title you had stolen from you back in London? Are you…

Grady Smith: (interrupting) There are no plans, Allison.

Allison Haines: Excuse me?

(Grady turns so that he’s now facing Allison more than he was before…)

Grady Smith: There are no plans, Allison. My match against Martin at Champions Summit is it.

Allison Haines: I’m confused. What do you mean is it?

(Grady takes a deep breath)

Grady Smith: The history of mankind is that we are a species that has the ability to learn from our mistakes. But let’s be honest here. Very rarely do people learn from the first mistake, or the second, or even the third mistake, for that matter. It really only hits you, how to correct that mistake, when you’re given one final opportunity to correct it… that one last chance to make things right. Champions Summit, Allison… that is the last chance.

Allison Haines: So… what happens after Champions Summit?

Grady Smith: Nothing. Either I’ve learned from my mistake… or it wasn’t a mistake at all.

(Grady turns back away from Allison and continues his walk towards the parking garage, as both Allison and the cameraman stand there, stunned…)

Allison Haines: I… uhh…. I don’t know what to say. Back… back to you, Malone?

(The camera cuts back to the announce table)

MM: Did Grady just say that Champions Summit is his last match?

VA: I can never figure out what he’s saying, but if that is what he said, thank god!

MM: Hopefully we’ll learn more about this developing situation between now and the first night of Champions Summit. But for now, back to the ring for more action!


NR: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Oshkosh Wisconsin, weighing in at one-hundred-seventy-five pounds … Laura Setonnnnn!

As the lights over the rampway suddenly change to a mix of pink and purple pulsating lights as Vixtrola’s ‘Gunboat’ begins to play, Laura Seton emerges onto the stage to a decidedly mixed reaction of cheers and jeers.

MM: Fan reactions to the former two time World Champion have becoming increasingly negative as of late, Laura Seton seems to be entering foreign territory from the usually upbeat superstar.

VA: Between the drama of her relationship with Ray Willmott and Dube, the fans aren’t quite sure who she even is anymore…

MM: Well, she’s surely not the same woman that once battled the likes of the Fallout and the Youth. I mean, she’s actually going to step into the ring with her fiancee at Champions Summit III!

VA: It’s going to be great, Malone. Lovers tearing each other apart! Hopefully this one doesn’t have an awful ending like Draven and McIntyre at Live From London, though.

As Laura makes her way down to the ring, Nikki Rogers is set to make her opponent’s introduction.

NR: And her opponent, from —

Holding a hand to her ear, Nikki suddenly pauses and approaches ringside where she and the timekeeper exchanges words.

MM: What’s going on here?

VA: No doubt something regarding Azrael Goeren–

Taking her place back in the center of the ring, Laura Seton is seen exchanging words with Nikki Rogers before shaking her head.

NR: Ladies and gentlemen, Azrael Goeren has been declared ineligible to compete–

The boos instantly drown out the ring announcer, who powers through the reaction.

MM: The fans are none too happy about this!

NR: Due to–

VA: Wow, I can’t even hear a word she’s saying…

NR: Therefore, this match has been declared a no contest, and the winner by default, Lauraaaa Setonnn!

Despite the win, the fans continue booing the reaction.

MM: Fans, I’ve been informed that while Azrael Goeren is indeed in the building tonight, he failed to submit to necessary tests as ordered by EWA medical staff, and Doctor Furman has ordered him ineligible to compete in a sanctioned match.

VA: This guy is unbelievable.

MM: After the showing last week against Sahara, who decisively dismantled the deranged German — something I’d never thought I’d hear myself say — I can’t say I blame our medical staff. It’d be irresponsible for Doctor Furman to allow this to continue much longer, as it was obvious he’s been in no condition to compete at this level.

VA: Ahh, the good old ‘card subject to change’ fine print, Malone.

MM: Again, as disappointing as this is, I feel it’s the right call until Azrael can prove otherwise.

VA: If the man wants to come out here and get his ass handed to him by the likes of that STD carrying whore week after week, we should let him…since his victory over his daughter, he’s grown increasingly useless.

MM: And I’m sure Donovan King had nothing to do with that?! Let’s just hope he can find himself able to compete against King in three weeks at Champions Summit III…in the meantime, let’s go backstage!

MM: Folks, right now we want to take you to some disturbing footage we received earlier today, as whomever’s been leaving clues for the Stranger, Indrid Calder….well, they’ve struck again.


The Stranger finds it ironic that the GPS coordinates provided to him lead him right back to the bowels of the Combat Zone. The rickety staircase into the subbasement is in extremely poor condition, this section of the arena often used for storage and little else. Calder is familiar with the hidden catacombs of this place…because he once led Alexander Haven and The Youth to their slaughter down here at the hands of HATE.

He finds himself standing before an enormous door that’s decorated with flakes of rust. The little maroon flakes shower against his shoulders as he bulls the door open, and with the very first step he takes into the shadows of the room he realizes he’s made an error.

The tripwire zips back to the center of the room and triggers an old-fashioned gramophone, bringing the needle to life and allowing it to scratch across an unmarked record.

Music floods through the dim interior, and it echoes off the walls with haunting resonance. The song is “Ghostflowers” by Otep…and with the lyrics pounding in his skull, Indrid draws closer to the gramophone and the white card that leans against it.

“And she’s a killer
And she’s a keeper

Am I blurry, in your vision
Was I just, a poor decision…”

His fingers trace across the front of the card. The blood-red sigil of the Minotaur stands out, and a single message is scrawled out below. “Light me up.” The Stranger follows the little sketched arrow and wraps his hand around the ultraviolet flashlight sitting near the gramophone.

“Cut me open, with precision
And we’ll finger, the incision
Tell me what have I done
To watch you lose control…”

Indrid brings the flashlight around and clicks it on, and a beam of surreal black light illuminates the gloom. It paints Calder’s angular cheeks in stark purple tones, and as the beam hits the walls, all becomes clear.

He sweeps the flashlight high and low, marveling at the entropic artistry that is being presented to him.

“I will give you sanctuary
In these hymns of Thanatos

You will know me
By the scars I bare
You will know me
By the HATE I swear…”

Indrid’s knife-blue eyes widen as he scans the walls and the ceiling. There are great cloven hoofprints emblazoned into almost all of the free surface space that he can see.

So much time invested in this. So much vicious creativity…

The Minotaur’s mark is everywhere, the hoofprints gleaming in the purple lighting, and Indrid finds himself touching several of these cloven patterns.

The shriek of the gramophone needle running out of record brings him momentarily out of his trance, but the point has been made.

The maze continues…and Indrid Calder is obsessed with finding the center.

MM: This “maze” gets more surreal with each passing week, Ashe. Who is the Minotaur? What kind of devilish mind could cook up these messages?

VA: I don’t have a single clue, Malone! It could be literally anyone. There is anonymity at work here, and Calder seems entranced.

MM: Whoever this is…it takes some serious stones to reach out to HATE in this way. This is simply something we’ve never seen done before in the EWA.

VA: And you have to wonder how this is affecting Calder’s mindset going into his big match with Maggie McIntyre at Champions Summit III, Malone…that’s a match he’s already reluctant to take in the first place!

MM: Indeed. Let’s go up to the ring!


NR: This contest is scheduled for one fall!

The eerie strains of Led Zeppelin’s “No Quarter” start to thrum through the Combat Zone, to a great many boos. The ring area starts to fill with fog as a spotlight hits the ramp, outlining the suited pair of Sean Boden and Jacob Mephisto, flanking the Monster Child himself, Sammy Rochester, at the top of the ramp.

MM: This trio gives me chills every time.

VA: They’re a disturbing group, but it’s become pretty clear that their cohesion leaves a little something to be desired.

MM: Let’s be honest, Ashe, Mephisto turned on Boden for the Network belt, and they barely lost a step. Boden didn’t even blink!

VA: He did when he got a Black Mist to the face.

NR: Introducing first, from Nazareth, PA, weighing in at 270 lbs, accompanied by Pariah, JACOB MEPHISTO!

The trio stay on the ramp, Mephisto’s serpent smile stretching across his face, while Sammy glares down at the ring. Boden’s trademark smirk is uncharacteristically absent as they start the long walk to the ringside area.

Boden and Sammy walk around the ring, Rochester’s eyes on referee Danny Smith the entire time. Mephisto steps between the ropes, keeping his eyes on the entrance as he slowly removes the green tie, black jacket and shirt.

The boos lessen as Puscifer’s “Smoke and Mirrors” begins its haunting melody, as a grove of willow trees grow, bloom, and wither on the screen, a gray shroud flitting to and fro between them. Smoke billows from underneath, until the shroud takes the form of a hood, with a pair of ice-blue eyes staring out from the darkness. The ramp fills with smoke, and it seems to curl around the figure of Indrid Calder as he steps onto the stage, the Titan of HATE standing behind him menacingly.

NR: And his opponent, from Nothing, AZ, weighing in at 225 lbs, accompanied by Cal Rayner, the Stranger, INDRID CALDER!

VA: You said something about Pariah being a scary group, but these two are the most terrifying Pillars of HATE. And that’s a group that includes William West and NOTHING.

MM: I… really can’t argue with that assessment.

VA: No, Malone, they really– wait, you can’t?

MM: When you’re right, you’re right.

VA: But I’m never right. That’s, like, my entire thing, Malone. You’re gumming up the works, here.

The pair slowly approach the ring, with Calder taking the lead. Boden keeps Sammy at bay, while Mephisto’s smile starts to fade. Calder slides into the ring like an arachnid, slithering to his feet as the music dies and the lights come back.

Smith calls for the bell, and Mephisto and Calder immediately lock up, with Calder dropping into an armdrag that pulls Mephisto over by surprise. Mephisto pops back up angrily, and he charges the Stranger. Calder dodges to the side, throwing a thumb into Mephisto’s eye. Smith calls him out, but Calder just chuckles. Mephisto, on the other hand, looks as if his blood is boiling already. Mephisto charges Calder, but Calder slides out of the ring!

MM: It looks like Calder’s trying to piss him off!

VA: It looks like it’s working!

Mephisto slides out of the ring himself, and Calder walks around the ring, where Boden and Sammy stand. Calder looks Boden in the eye, and Boden returns the gaze. Calder says something to Sammy, but it’s inaudible, and he turns around right as Mephisto catches up to him, ducking to the side, where Calder tosses a knee into Mephisto’s gut!

Sammy’s eyes go wide, and he grabs Calder by the back of his head, tossing him HARD into the ring steps! Danny Smith calls for the bell!

MM: Look at Boden! He made absolutely no move to stop Sammy!

VA: And there’s the smirk!

NR: Your winner, by disqualification, INDRID CALDER!

MM: What an unsatisfying conclusion to this tonight, Ashe.

VA: I don’t think it’s concluded yet, Malone!

Rayner moves around the ring with a speed we’ve never seen from the big man, and he crashes hard into Rochester before he can do any more damage! Neither man goes down, and the monsters start throwing HUGE fists at each other, neither man seeming to do any damage! Rayner finally catches Rochester with a hip toss, slamming the Monster Child to the floor! But even that isn’t enough to keep him down! The pair start to move toward the entranceway, still at each other’s throats, and EWA security starts to swarm them! Six, seven, ten, fourteen security guards try to separate them, but to no avail!

VA: Good god, Malone, this is a nightmare!

MM: And it doesn’t look good for Indrid Calder!

Boden pulls Calder to his feet, tossing him into the ring! Mephisto smiles, sliding under the bottom rope along with Boden, and as Calder gets back to his feet in the center of the ring, Boden and Mephisto stare him down!

Mephisto advances, but stops short when he hears a thud behind him! Boden drops to his back, rolling under the bottom rope!

VA: What did I tell you, Malone?!

Mephisto turns around, looking over the top rope as Boden stands on the outside! He leans over to ask questions, and Boden just shrugs!

Calder is quick to capitalize, though, hopping up onto Mephisto’s back, and pulling him into the Spidersilk across the ropes! Mephisto howls in pain, and Danny Smith does his best to pull them apart, the bell ringing as Boden just walks away!

Calder lets go of Mephisto, who collapses to the mat, and Calder gets to his feet on the apron! Mephisto gets to his hands and knees, but Calder springboards off the top rope– For The Horseman! Mephisto’s face crashes to the mat! Calder looks down at him smiling, as “Smoke and Mirrors” starts once again!


(We cut to the backstage area, the camera following the tag team champions, Mojave and Josh Kaine as they carry their bags from their locker room…with Nikki Caldwell in tow. The pair’s EWA Tag Team Championship belts around their waists as they walk, talking animatedly.)

Mojave: Seriously, I’m telling you guys, you don’t have any idea how popular it’s gotten. I got another check. It’s double what the last one was.

Josh Kaine: It is good shit. I sent some to my mom at home.

Mojave: You sent some…to Jada’s?

Josh Kaine: No, my real mom, Moe. Come on, now. My mom, Caroline, in North Carolina? She used it to make her seasoned mashed potatoes instead of the normal stuff she gets from the Kroger. Dad said it was better’n she’d ever made it before.

Mojave: Oh! Well, good.

(They stop at their locker room, Josh going to get the door for Nikki to enter first. He pecks her cheek as she walked by.)

Nikki Caldwell: Thanks, Puppy.

(Moe follows her, stopping in the doorway expectantly. He raises an eyebrow at Josh before the son of Sinnocence leans in and kisses his cheek too with a laugh.)

Mojave: I think we’ve been a good influence on him, Nik.

Josh Kaine: Shut up.

(That gets both Moe and Nikki chuckling before Mojave turns his gaze to the doorway…right as a very recognizable blonde passes down the hallway.)

Mojave: LAW!

(The longest-reigning EWA Combat Champion stops in her tracks and glares at her little brother.)

Sahara: What?!

Mojave: Come in here, Lauren. I got something for you.

Sahara: Unless it’s your tag partner spread out naked on a bed, I ain’t interested.

Nikki Caldwell: That ain’t happening.

(Josh gives an indignant snort from inside the room. Moe reaches out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her inside anyway. Sahara crosses her arms over her chest and rolls her eyes at him, clearly wanting to be elsewhere. Tonight is a damn big night for her.)

Sahara: What the fuck do you want? I’m kinda fuckin’ busy.

Mojave: Well, you can’t have Josh. We have a thing. Three of us. Just like…you and…well, you guys, ‘cept the only stuck-up bitch of the three of us is me.

(He chuckled, unlatching his belt and handing it over to the blonde.)

Mojave: Hold that, will ya?

(She doesn’t get much of a choice as it is shoved against her and instinct won’t let her drop a championship belt. Mojave pats down his pockets, looking for something. He glances around the room, lost in thought for a moment before crossing the room and yanking his tag partner to his feet. Josh stands up with a small yelp before the camera follows Moe patting down Josh’s backside.)

Mojave: AHA! There is it!

(He reaches inside Josh’s back pocket and pulls out an envelope. Sahara watches angrily as her little brother comes back over taking the title belt from her and replacing it with the envelope.)

Sahara: What the fuck is this?

Mojave: It’s your birthday present.

Sahara: Not my birthday yet.

Mojave: Then it’s your goddamn Festivus present. Just open it.

Josh Kaine: It ain’t gonna bite or nothin’, Sahara.

(Josh rarely if ever called her Lauren. The blonde rolls her eyes before opening up the envelope and pulling out a piece of paper with a check at the bottom. She narrows her gaze, reading the messy scrawl as the camera catches it.)


Here’s your cut, you’re still a MacKay after all! The only one I like!

Stay salty,


(Sahara looks back up, the smug grin on her little brother’s face igniting a plume of fire in her belly. She rips up the check along with the note, throwing it in his face before angrily shoving him into Josh.)

Sahara: Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t need your fuckin’ charity!

(Josh catches his partner easily, helping Moe right himself.)

Josh Kaine: Hey, that ain’t called for. He’s doin’ the right thing! I thought we were all okay now?

Mojave: Nah, we’re okay. She’s just gonna thank me for thinking of her and then leavin’, ain’t you, Sis?

(Slowly backing up toward the door, the blonde shrugged as an angry scowl crossed her face, the magnitude of the night obviously weighing on her.)

Sahara: Yea, I’m leavin’, but we ain’t okay Josh…and I sure as hell ain’t okay with you and this little bitch tellin’ me what’s what. And as for you…

(Turning her gaze toward her little brother, she almost looked sickened by his recent success.)

Sahara: You can stick that title up your ass … both of ya. Everything about you screams, “Sahara’s little brother and that guy she used to fuck”, even now. I’m your whole fuckin’ brand and you all know it…but you may as well get rich off me while I struggle, everyone else does. Go ahead, keep laughing…

(Backing away from the door, she raises her hands as if to say, “I give up”, before throwing her hands down in exasperation and storming off in a huff. Fade to ringside.)


MM: Alright folks, we weren’t exactly sure what this match was going to be until earlier this week, but apparently we will be seeing the Network Champion Natalie Burrows and Rachel Ellsworth take on the unlikely pairing of Cronos Diamante and Ethan Leers.

VA: I like ONE of these people in this match. ONE.

NR: Ladies and gentlemen, this tag team match is scheduled for ONE FALL.

The arena goes black, a darkness that lingers for a few seconds until the opening chords of ‘Monster’ by Paramore play as the screen comes to life. Footage that has been treated to look old, faded rolls of the Southern Belle fighting her way back up to her feet after being knocked down– and the moment that she appears on the screen, the crowd cheers loudly for the fan-favorite that is about to come out. As the blond regains her feet in that video footage, bruised and battered but still willing to fight, the chorus hits the sound system with a vengeance as Natalie Burrows makes her way out from behind the curtain, a bit of a bounce in her stride. It’s not the sort that comes from being happily energetic, though. Rather? It’s clear that her competitive fire is burning brighter than ever. Natalie throws her Network Championship high in the air. Suddenly, the lights come on and her music stops. Natalie smiles, looking back at the curtain.


Rachel Ellsworth emerges from the back. She hugs Natalie Burrows before the two dart down to the ring, sliding in under the bottom rope. Both women stretch and bounce, preparing themselves for their opponents.

NR: Introducing first, the Network Champion…The Southern Belle…NATALIE BURROWS…and her partner…The Atomic Redhead…Rachel Ellsworth!

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. 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.

As the ripping guitar riff of “Fuck Everything” by Suicide Silence kicks in, Ethan Leers emerges from the back wearing black cargo shorts, black wrestling boots, a black jersey that says “FUCK YOU” in big white letters, and a black hat that says “CUNT” in big white letters. He looks at the crowd, utter disgust on his face, and he spits at the ground. As the crowd boos at his disgust at them, he walks to the ring, cracking his knuckles and neck.

As Ethan reaches the ring, he jogs up the steps very quickly and turns around. He again looks at the crowd with his look of disgust and flips off the entire crowd, laughing at their boos. He quickly turns around and steps in between the top and middle rope. He takes off his jersey and hat, throws them to the outside of the ring, but definitely avoids throwing them far enough for fans to get. He stretches in the corner, a shit-eating grin on his face, loving every moment of the boos and jeers.


Diamante and Burrows start the match. Diamante smirks at Natalie before turning and attempting to tag Leers in, but Leers just mouths “fuck you” at Diamante. Diamante looks irritated, and Natalie uses the distraction to lash forward and slam Diamante in the back of the head with a dropkick! Diamante is pushed forward and knocks Leers over the apron!

VA: YEAH! Hurt Leers Natalie, but also, common Cronos!

MM: You sure are conflicted on this one, huh?

Burrows is able to take advantage of the early distraction, peppering Cronos with kicks, dodging in and out to avoid getting caught by the larger man. Cronos is eventually weakened enough, so Burrows locks in an arm wrench and makes the tag. Rachel kicks Cronos in the arm before placing him in another arm wrench. Cronos gets the ropes, but Rachel torques extra hard, taking full advantage of the 5 count. Rachel proceeds to play hit and run with Cronos’ arm for a bit, locking him into various arm and wrist locks and then getting away when he begins to power out.

MM: Burrows and Ellsworth clearing establishing themselves early on as the more well formed team. Leers is just standing in his corner, grinning at the action.

Rachel continues this strategy for a bit. After building up a good deal of confidence, Ellsworth hits the ropes and looks for some kind of high impact attack, but Cronos lashes out with a BRUTAL palm thrust, slamming Ellsworth to the ground. Cronos walks over to Leers, clutching his arm, and glares at Leers. He slaps Leers on the chest, which just causes Leers to laugh. Leers then gets in the ring and goes over to Rachel. He throws a couple of punches down on the Atomic Redhead before lifting her up and slamming her in the gut with knees. Leers shoves Rachel over to an empty corner and places a few punches to her head, keeping her groggy. He then tosses her out of the corner with a hip toss. Leers looks over at Burrows, who is attempting to cheer Ellsworth on. Leers makes a jerking off motion towards her.

MM: That was incredibly unnecessary.


MM: I’m…I’m still not used to us agreeing on anything.

VA: Shut up, Malone.

Burrows glares at Leers, but Leers has turned his attention back to Ellsworth. He falls forward with a falling headbutt, connecting with Rachel’s temple. Leers holds his own head in pain, but he is not stunned, so he goes over to Rachel and lifts her up. He places her in a standing headscissors and lifts her up, locking his arm in between her legs and dropping her with a cradle piledriver. Leers makes a cover, and Juan Cardillo counts!












Burrows breaks it up. Cronos is in quick and he OBLITERATES a distracted Natalie with a clothesline. Natalie goes down hard, rolling out of the ring. Cardillo admonishes Cronos, but this gives Leers time to jam his thumbs in Rachel’s eyes! Cronos sees this and panders, arguing with Cardillo, allowing Leers to inflict all kinds of illegal damage. When Juan turns around, Leers has picked Rachel back up. He sets her up in the vertical suplex position, but when he drops her, he focuses more on the head and neck with the brainbuster! Leers floats over and lifts Rachel back up, dropping her with ANOTHER brainbuster!

MM: Leers is BRUTALLY focusing on the neck of Ellsworth.

VA: I mean, I hate seeing him do well, but I wouldn’t mind seeing anyone snap the neck of that irritating redhead.

Leers again floats over and looks to drop Rachel with another brainbuster, but Rachel comes alive, setting herself free and landing behind Leers! Rachel grabs Leers and slams him down with a reverse neckbreaker! Both competitors are down. Leers is the first to come alive, and he begins to crawl over to his partner. However, he is on the opposite side of the ring. Rachel stirs and begins to crawl towards Natalie. Ellsworth and Leers both reach their partner at the same. Diamante and Burrows rush at each other, Diamante looking for a spinning punch, but Natalie is able to dodge under, hitting the ropes and knocking Cronos flat with a spinning wheelkick! Both competitors are back up fast, but Natalie places a STIFF kick to Cronos’s already weakened arm, causing him to flinch. She follows this up with a leaping sidekick that catches Cronos in the head, but he big man stays standing! Natalie hits the ropes with a handspring and looks for the back elbow, but Cronos catches her in a full nelson! FULL NELSON SUPLEX!

MM: Burrows had some solid offense, but Cronos catches her off guard with an amazing suplex.

VA: Diamante has been around the block a lot. He knows how this game works.

Cronos bridges for the count!












THRE-Rachel breaks it up! Rachel throws punches at Cronos, but Cronos is able to keep it blocked. He grabs a hold of Rachel and looks to throw her, but Rachel fights. Both of them go to the ropes where Ethan quickly slaps Cronos on the back, getting the tag! He then pulls down on the ropes, causing both Diamante and Ellsworth to spill to the outside. Ethan looks down at his handy work, laughing at both competitors, but when he turns, Burrows is there, slamming him with a flying forearm smash that knocks him to the outside!

MM: Wow! You really have to constantly watch your back in a match like this.

Burrows takes a second to catch her breath. Diamante is the first to get up on the outside, having landed on top of Ellsworth and taken the best of the fall. He looks to get back in the ring, thinking he is still the legal man, and Juan Cardillo has begun a ten count. However, Cronos is stopped by Rachel, who is now up and sending weak punches into his back. Cronos turns, slamming Rachel with an elbow strike! Rachel is turned completely around, and Cronos takes this opportunity to lock in the Ne-Han! Burrows is now up and she sees Cronos twisting Rachel’s back. Rachel cries out in pain, so Burrows leaves the ring and goes to help Rachel…

But Leers is there to SLAM her with a Yakuza Kick! Juan Cardillo gets up to 9, so Leers breaks the count by rolling back into the ring. He then grabs Natalie, who is still woozy from the Yakuza Kick, and rolls her into the ring.

VA: Normally I’d be the one to say that I appreciate Leers taking advantage of the confusion, but I won’t be giving him the credit.

MM: Burrows didn’t see the tag and assumed that Diamante was the legal man. Leer is completely, and I’d reluctantly say fairly, taking advantage of this situation.

Cronos still has the Ne-Han locked in, and it looks as though Rachel is about to pass out from the pain. Meanwhile, in the ring, Leers is pacing around Natalie like a predator, waiting for her to get up. He stays behind her, keeping himself out of her line of sight. When Burrows is up, Leers rushes over quickly, spinning her around violently, which throws her off. He gives her a quick gut kick before lifting her up into the Widow’s Peak Position. He then drops her with a Piledriver.

VA: I’ve heard he calls that the Face Fuck. Vulgar, trashy man that he is, of course that is what he calls it.

The crowd boos Leers, so Leers takes a moment to gloat, grinning and flipping them off. He then drops for the cover.














As soon as the bell rings, Diamante releases the Ne-Han from Ellsworth. Diamante looks in the ring, nods, and simply exits, not looking for anymore of a fight. Leers, however, won’t allow Juan Cardillo to raise his hand in victory. He simply looks down at the nearly unconscious Ellsworth.

NR: Here are your winners…Cronos Diamante and Ethan Leers!

Ethan exits the ring on the side where Rachel is down. He sees her starting to get up to her knees, so he runs forward and drives both of his knees into her back, hitting her with the REAL Backbreaker!

MM: Oh come on! The match is over Leers!

Rachel clutches her ribs as Leers stands tall over Ellsworth. Burrows begins to stir, but she is still pretty out after Leers’ Face Fuck. Leers laughs at both of them before mock skipping away, leaving both women down in and out of the ring.


(We fade backstage to find Chris Kage and Stacy Vandervort in the middle of a heated discussion. Stacy is obviously upset, as the remnants of tears are still visible on her cheeks. Kage appears to be trying his best to call down the blonde bombshell.)

Chris Kage: Stacy, come on. We don’t even know if that shit is really true. It could be just another fucking game Alex is playing to try and screw with us. He probably fucking forged the damn thing.

Stacy Vandervort: It’s a fucking marriage certificate, Chris, it has a state seal and everything. You don’t just fucking forge shit like that. And it says you’re married to another woman, do you even know what that means?! It means if you’re already fucking married, we can’t be! Do you get that!? That means this whole thing is a fucking sham! A sham, Chris!

Chris Kage: Don’t say that, please, don’t you see, Stace, this is exactly what that asshole wants. That fucker could forge anything, he would go to any length to try and fuck with me, to fuck with us. And ya know what, if it is real, so what, it changes nothing, I haven’t seen that bitch in over 15 years, she could be dead in a fucking ditch for all I care. You are all that matters to me right now, you are my life now, Stacy. I will take care of it, either way, you have to trust me. I’m going to make it right. But right now, I need you with me, I can’t do this alone, we can’t let him get to us, not now, not ever. I swear to you, I’m going to fucking kill that asshole at Champions Summit and I am going to take his title and everything else in this world he holds dear to him, but I need you right there next to me…I need you.

Stacy Vandervort: I know, I know, Chris, I just…the idea of you being married to someone else just kills me.

(Stacy pauses for a moment and begins to compose herself as she wipes away the tears from her face )

Stacy Vandervort: But you’re right, I can’t let him win, and I won’t. I said I would always be there for you, no matter what, through sickness and in health, through everything, and I will be. I love you, Chris and you’re right, you are going to take everything from him, and I am going to be right there next to you, because we are in this together, forever.

(The couple embrace, sharing in a passionate kiss as we fade back to the arena.)

(We cut back to ringside as we get a very long and slow camera pan over the sold out Combat Zone here in Boston. Fans are packed shoulder-to-shoulder and wear their favorite EWA wrestler’s merchandise and proudly wave signs as the camera moves past them. Suddenly, “Sieben” by Subway to Sally hits over the sound system as the arena is awash in a red and gold light show and Azrael Goeren steps out on top of the ramp, holding his arms wide. He’s met with a mixed reaction at best, a good amount of cheers but lately a distinct surge of boos sprinkled in.)

VA: You hear that, Malone? These sheep are finally listening to me. How long have I said that Azrael Goeren is just a junkie loser? How long have I said that?

MM: Forever. Ad nauseum.

VA: Add what? Hold on, let me get my calculator app…

MM: I think that the fan reaction we are hearing tonight for Azrael has more to do with his lack of effort as of late than anything else. Ever since Donovan King showed up in his life again, he seems to have reverted back to his old ways…

VA: You mean drinking moonshine out of a hooker’s vagina and shooting feline pain medication into his scrotum?

MM: …you’re kidding. Please tell me he didn’t do those things.

VA: Follow him on Periscope man. It’s like watching a 30 second dumpster fire every day.

(Azrael stops and reaches into his extremely tight red leather pants and pulls out a moist Sharpie, moving forward to sign a fan’s head at ringside. The fan recoils backwards as Azrael shrugs and tosses the Sharpie out into the crowd before nearly tripping over himself en route to the ring.)

MM: Not again, folks…we heard it earlier, and I didn’t want to believe it, but Dr. Furman was right…I’m sorry but it looks like Azrael Goeren is yet again not in any condition to perform.

VA: Hey give that pathetic junkie credit, at least he’s using the ramp this time. Usually he can’t even find the ring.

MM: This is heart-breaking to watch. This man had absolutely everything in life only two months ago. He had the beautiful Jada Kaine at his side. He was main eventing Battlelines. He had a great family life and the respect of everyone here in EWA for his hard work and dedication to overcoming his past mistakes…

VA: Speak for yourself, Malone. I’ve always hated the guy.

MM: You hate whoever Grace tells you to hate.

VA: Yup, and she hates her pig father more than anyone.

MM: Aside from that one glaring exception, Azrael Goeren had everything a man could ask for before Donovan King arrived out of nowhere and began to strike back at him for things that Azrael did to him years ago.

VA: Yeah but even you and your rose-colored glasses can’t tell me that King is wrong on this one. Azrael Goeren went out of his way to ruin King’s career in the dying days of SHOOT!

MM: He was a different man back then…

VA: You sure about that? Cause they sure like the same guy right now!

(Stumbling into the ring, Azrael lets out a cackle and politely asks for a microphone. When one is presented to him, he curtseys and waves out at the audience again. This time the boos become a bit heavier as he starts to speak, his German accent incredibly thick and his words slurring.)

Azrael Goeren: Mein freunds…bitte…please…calm your tits. Are they all calm? Anyone need a spot checker? Make sure to properly administer valium to your tits under the safety and guidance of a medical professional to achieve maximum chill. Danke!

VA: Yep, he’s twisted again.

MM: This is so sad, why our management lets him come out here every show and do this is just…pathetic on their part.

VA: Quiet or Haven will fire you next.

(Azrael motions for everyone to be quiet which only causes more noise as he gets back on the live microphone.)

Azrael Goeren: I requested this time to come out here and chat with you all because I want to address the delicious elefant in das zimmer. And that naughty little pachyderm is called Donovan King.

(Another mixed reaction at King’s name as Azrael moves his hands down to calm the crowd once again.)

Azrael Goeren: I know, I know. Herr King has said some rather…disingenuous…things about me lately. About how I handled my business affairs in the past and how I may or may not have negatively impacted his career because of it. Now, its hard to blame him for how he feels…he is after all born with a genetic disadvantage of pigment…but he didn’t ask to be conceived behind that Arbys dumpster. He tried to make the most of his life and even managed to become a somewhat competent pro wrestling in the process…

(Azrael’s face goes suddenly grim, as if he has a brief moment of clarity.)

Azrael Goeren: But he’s…right about me…he’s right…I did do those things to him…Mein Gott…I tried to ruin him and so many others…so many…just to make myself look better. I…I…

)Slamming the side of his head with his own fist, Azrael tries to drive out reality with a forceful blow. Instead, he quickly fishes inside his coat pocket for a popper and brings it up to his nose as the camera tries to pan away but catches him inhaling it and letting out a satisfied groan after finishing the dose.)

MM: For God’s sake, pull away and get this man some help. How much longer can he embarrass himself out there?

VA: Hell no, get those cameras back on him! I love a good train wreck!

(Azrael seems bolstered by the quick hit and runs a hand through his frizzy, unwashed long blonde hair. He looks absolutely horrible in the ring right now, the appearance of a man who hasn’t shaved in weeks and has completely abandoned personal hygiene.)

Azrael Goeren: There we go! Much better! What I MEANT to say was that pig-ficker swine Donovan King has screwed with the wrong Übermensch! What I did back in the old days was for the betterment of the company, not for nasty little bedbugs like him. So if he’s got his dick in a twist over something that happened YEARS ago and wants to settle the score at Champions Summitt III…then I’m completely game for a good old fashioned Azrael Goeren-inspired gorefest. Do you all know how long its been since I got to paint the canvas in pig’s blood? Far too long…far too long…oh God…what did I do…what have I…

(Retrieving another popper from his coat, Azrael breaks it in half and quickly inhales it to keep his inner demons at bay for a few more seconds.)

Azrael Goeren: AHHHHHH! Ja! JA! FUCK JA! It’s gonna be a joygasmic treat at the Summitt, Herr King! You are going to regret ever showing your face here in EWA. You were the one who sneak attacked me all of those weeks. You were the one who didn’t have the brass balls big enough to face me man to man. If you think I screwed you over so badly before, wait until you see what I got planned for you at Champions Summitt III. Its all going to blow up in your face, Herr King. I hope you realize that…

(Goeren gives himself another hard blow to the side of his head and lets out a laugh.)

Azrael Goeren: That’s going to be the real stinger, isn’t it mein freund? You’ve been hating on me and plotting against me for so long…doing your little theatrics like usual…and then when the time comes and we get nice and ooey gooey bloody muddy with each other…you will fail. Just like you did all those years ago in all of those other promotions we were in together. Just like you always will. Because deep down you know the reason I fucked you over so much and used you with so little concern over your well-being.

(Azrael smiles out at the crowd.)

Azrael Goeren: Men like you were disposable. You were statistics on a spreadsheet to me, the only thing I ever cared about was the bottom line and how much came back to me. You were born to be used, Herr King…and nobody ever did that any better than me.

(Without warning, the lights in the arena black out. Immediately, the fans begin to buzz. Goeren, to his “credit,” isn’t fazed.)

Azrael Goeren: Ah…is this the time for your grandiose intro, Herr King? Clouds? Smoke? Lights? Are you…are you ready to face me at my best, you verdammt bastard?!

(The lights pop back up and DONOVAN KING stands directly behind Goeren. Goeren turns and is immediately SHOVED back into a turnbuckle by King.)

MM: It’s time! Donovan King and Azrael Goeren are face to face! At long last, the two men are face to face!

VA: Yeah, but it’s King with the drop on Goeren here!

(King holds his cane against the throat of Goeren. The fans are absolutely HYPED as King stands there, cane pressed HARD against Goeren’s throat, Goeren’s hands up as his face starts turning beet red. King reaches up and takes Goeren’s microphone, using his stronger right arm to keep the cane braced against Goeren’s throat.)

Donovan King: See this? See how easy this is for me?

(King grins.)


(Goeren trembles, shuddering from what can only possibly be a combination of a drug induced haze, fury, and fear. King backs up, tapping the cane against Goeren’s temple.)

Donovan King: Not…yet. You and I…have one promotion between us. And you can hide behind your racism. You can hide behind your drugs. You can hide behind your vices. You can hide. You…can…hide. Oh man…

(King laughs for a moment.)

Donovan King: You people see this guy?

(King motions to Goeren, the fans booing. King looks to the camera.)


(King grips his cane as tightly as he can. Any tighter and one could think he would dent it in his grip.)

Donovan King: You found yourself a real ride or die, Henrik. Somebody so high on you she can’t see you for the truly hopeless piece uh filth you are. I guess addicts really just hop from one drug to the other. You know I was there, right? You know where I was, right?

(King takes a few steps towards Goeren.)

Donovan King: I stood on her porch, Henrik. I gave her my knife. Yeah, man.

(King smirks.)

Donovan King: I pulled it out…I slapped it down in front of her…and I left it there. And the best part? The best part of it all? The child you straight ABANDONED…calls that place home, doesn’t he?

(Goeren makes a move towards to King, but King immediately points the cane to Goeren’s face.)

Donovan King: But I gave you my word, Henrik. I don’t want them to hurt. I just…want…you. I’m not gonna hold this my whole life. You’ve toyed with souls for years, boy. You dealt with a lot of bloody people. You’ve walked away from a lot of car accidents that should have killed you. You’ve survived enough holocausts that calling you a cockroach sells your resilience short. You get under the skin, Henrik. The only difference here?

(King stamps his cane on the mat.)

Donovan King: Damn my soul to hell, man…because I’ll drag you into the fire with me before I let you go another goddamn DAY where you could HURT or USE or TORMENT another person.

(King closes his eyes, lifting his cane to his side once more.)

Donovan King: Call me what you will. Say what you will. But I want you to know two things right now, boy. One…I could kill you right here and right now. I don’t mean I could hurt you. I don’t mean I could injure you. I don’t even mean I could knock you out. I mean right here…

(King takes a step towards Goeren.)

Donovan King: …right now…I could kill you. End you. Snuff you from this life. No matter the cost to me, I could do what nobody else could…and I could stop you.

(King holds his cane up, pointing two fingers at Goeren.)

Donovan King: Two…I won’t. Not here. Not now.

(The fans begin to boo as Goeren lets himself smirk.)

Donovan King: At the Summit. At Champions’ Summit III. Night two. Right before the fans get to watch Haven defend against Chris Kage. They’re going to see Azrael Goeren’s body break. They’re going to see Azrael Goeren’s soul break. They’re going to see Azrael Goeren…not lose a match. No. They’re gonna see Azrael Goeren…defeated.

(King sighs.)

Donovan King: So put your pills and your medicines away, boy. Keep your jokes, keep your racism, put it all away. On July 14, I want you to be as close to your best as you can be. Wear your best outfit. Singlet, tights, glitzy gear. Hype that Subway to Sally song up. Get a haircut maybe. Write your family a lovely letter telling them your true feelings. Brush your teeth. I want you…looking flawless. Feeling flawless. As close to perfect as you can get, Henrik.

(King grins, walking towards Goeren with his cane, pressing the tip of it in Goeren’s chest. His eyes grow wide as they look upon Goeren.)

Donovan King: I don’t want your best dressed day to be layin’ in your casket.

(King’s head cocks to the side, letting out a small chuckle.)

Donovan King: That comes later.

(King sits the microphone down and holds his hand above his head. His eyes locked on Goeren. The two men glare at one another until King snaps his fingers above his head…and the lights go out completely. Without warning, the lights come back up and…nothing. Goeren is alone again. As if King was never there. Saying nothing, Goeren stares up at the ramp pensively before exiting through the ropes and taking the slow, stuttering walk towards the back. The bombastic and flamboyant attitude that brought him to the wrong has evaporated as he doesn’t even acknowledge the crowd, he simply shambles up the ramp and disappears from sight. The camera cuts back to our commentating team as Malone shakes his head.)

MM: You…you know, I’ve followed Donovan King’s career. I’ve seen him do violent things in SHOOT Project. But out and out threatening a man’s life to this degree? Why does he hate Azrael Goeren to this degree–

VA: Because! Look at Goeren! He’s too damn high to know what just happened to him! King had to lay it all out for him once and for all! You think this is a game to a guy like Donovan King?! Malone, we’ve NEVER seen a guy like this before. He doesn’t show up to show up. He doesn’t talk just to talk! Nobody EVER sees him in the back. He doesn’t do interviews. He doesn’t get involved in matches. He isn’t out for titles. He’s not here for some glory. Donovan King isn’t here for his health, he’s here for Azrael Goeren!

MM: That might be the best way you can describe what Donovan King has become in his lifetime…in his career. And he would have you believe there’s nobody else to blame for this than Azrael Goeren himself. In three short weeks, these two men collide, and as cliche as this statement is, I don’t think either will ever be the same again.


Nikki Rogers: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, one of the Pillars of HATE, WILLIAM WEST!

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

They wanna see blood!
They wanna see HATE!

Deuce’s “America” blares over the speakers as William West emerges from the back, the lights bursting back to normal. He stalks down the ramp with an uncertain purpose in his eyes.

MM: Here comes The Crippler!

VA: Pretty sure he doesn’t go by that anymore, besides…have you heard his whining the past two weeks? The only thing he’s crippled lately is his manhood.

MM: Classy, Vince. He was Maggie’s best friend in HATE!

VA: And now she’s gonna castrate him!

NR: And his opponent, from Albany, NY, she is the Banshee….Maggie McIntyre!

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, never taking her eyes off of the man in the ring.

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 stands opposite her opponent, her former brother in arms.

Referee Rick Iley calls for the bell and the match begins.

Maggie is, of course, the first to charge as the bell sounds. She rams her shoulder into West before dropping to bring down the taller man with a Russian legsweep. He almost goes down, but a hand snaps out to grab the ropes and he steadies himself. The Banshee is shoved backwards as she gets to her feet and it is West’s turn to charge…he shoves her again, only half-heartedly.

VA: See? He doesn’t have the balls to hit a woman!

MM: There are many, many things wrong with what you just said.

Maggie shoves West back, the sound of flesh on flesh echoing across the arena. West turns his head, but Maggie just smacks him flush in the face!

MM: One way or the other, Maggie McIntyre is going to get her fight out of this tonight!

West sighs, his cheek stinging, and charges! Maggie ducks a clothesline attempt, and brings The Masochist down with a drop toe hold! West is up quickly, but is met with a big forearm blast to his face!

West is rocked, and the Banshee brings the fight to her former friend! Maggie nails West with another forearm that staggers him into the ropes! West bounces forward slightly, and Maggie leaps up, taking the former Crippler down with a Thesz Press! Maggie McIntyre grits her teeth, grimacing as she begins to pepper William West with right hands!

VA: This punk needs to defend himself! He’s just letting Maggie pummel him into oblivion!

Maggie pauses her assault, and she grabs both sides of West’s face, yelling straight into it.

Maggie McIntyre: YOU PROMISED ME!

Another huge blow that causes West’s head to bounce off the canvas.

Maggie McIntyre: YOU PROMISED ME!

In the heat of the moment, Maggie headbutts West. Maggie’s eyes cross slightly with the blow, but West is for sure worse for wear.

MM: For Maggie McIntyre, this is beyond her war with NOTHING. It means more than her fight with the monstrous Rayner. There’s a bitterness here in her words, in every blow that just exudes pure heartbreak!

VA: Kick her in the clam, West! I’ve got five hundred big ones riding on you!

MM: I wouldn’t bet against Maggie right now.

West shoves Maggie again, with only enough force to knock her off her perch above him. Maggie is first to her feet, and the Banshee runs the ropes, planting both feet to the side of the head of the former Network Champion! West is spread eagle on the mat and Maggie moves in for the cover!












MM: West kicks out!

VA: For someone who doesn’t want to fight…he’s certainly showing some fight kicking out of that.

MM: It’s pure instinct. West has been in the ring for nearly twenty years. Some things are just reflexive.

Both get back to their feet. West turns towards Maggie, and is met with another loud slap! Several members of the crowd cringe at the sound.

MM: Maggie seems to be TRYING to rile up the Masochist here. Maybe there’s no satisfaction in victory if he doesn’t fight back.

VA: Or maybe she’s got the same bookie as me!

West turns again, slightly away from Maggie McIntyre! She follows his gaze, and hauls off again, smacking the taste out of his mouth!

This time, West doesn’t hesitate. He surges forward and turns the Banshee inside out with a huge lariat!

MM: Oh, jeez! She about landed back on her feet with that blow!

VA: Here we go! He’s firing up now, Malone! NOW it’s a fight.

Maggie writhes a bit, clutching her jaw in agony. West grabs two fistfuls of hair, looking just as pained as she does as the Masochist pulls McIntyre to her feet.

As soon as Maggie is standing, West takes her over with a thunderous snap T-bone suplex!

MM: West’s power has been well documented in the past, but he is in the ring with someone much lighter than he’s used to taking over with that move. That’s gotta jar Maggie’s spine more than his usual prey!

There’s no cover, as West immediately moves to an awkward looking submission hold. He starts with a front facelock, and then transitions to hooking Maggie’s arms behind her back, butterfly style. Maggie’s head is still tucked underneath West’s arm, putting the pressure on The Banshee’s neck and shoulders. The rookie screams as Referee Rick Iley moves to watch for submission from Maggie. He asks and she shakes her head no repeatedly, even as West keeps her firmly in place.

VA: Looks like the Banshee’s trapped!

MM: It does indeed!

Maggie is running out of options and does the one thing she can think of.

She stomps on West’s toes!

MM: She just stomped on his foot!

VA: What is she doing?

With West grimacing at the pain, she plants her feet and throws her weight forward, sending them both against the ropes! The Crippler loses his grip and Maggie falls through the ropes, crashing to the ground. She bounces off the apron and hits the outside mats hard. With a cry of pain, she rolls around holding her back as West gathers himself up. He growls down at her, preparing to step through the ropes as Iley begins the countout. West jumps down, grabbing ahold of her and practically throwing her back in the ring.

She lands awkwardly, another cry ringing out and the sound of it visibly affects the Masochist of HATE. He pauses at her side, a hand reaching out to touch her face.

MM: She just grabbed him! Armbar! Maggie McIntyre’s locked in an an armbar on the Masochist!

VA: She was playing possum!

Maggie snaps into action, her legs coming up to wrap around West’s arm as she begins to hyperextend the elbow joint. He gives a roar of his own, physically picking the Banshee up and slamming her down against the mat. Maggie cries out again. West is a man possessed!

Maggie McIntyre: YOU PROMISED ME!

West doesn’t answer her. He just picks her up again and again, each time slamming her hard against the mat until he shows visible signs of fatigue…but Maggie never lets go! The Masochist falls to his knees, panting hard for breath before the rookie simply lets him go. She’s in obvious pain, but takes off for the ropes, rebounding and NAILS WEST IN THE HEAD WITH THE BANSHEE’S WAIL!


MM: William West is out!

Maggie covers her former best friend in HATE for the pin!

Rick Iley drops for the count!














The Banshee rolls off to the side, as West begins to come to with Rick Iley’s help.

NR: Here is your winner, Maggie McIntyre!!

MM: She did it! Now she’s got one more before she brings down the house of HATE!

VA: Time for Dr. Stranger-stein to meet his monster!

MM: Come up with that all on your own?

VA: Yeah, and I’m brilliant.


(Directly following his win with Ethan Leers over Natalie Burrows and Rachel Ellsworth, Cronos Diamante is seen heading to his locker room side by side with his partner in crime Slade Volkov. Slade pats Cronos on the back for a match well won and Cronos responds in kind with a smile. That is until he notices the presence of one very familiar rainbow-dreadlocked woman named Skittles at his locker room door.)

Cronos Diamante: Something I can do for you? Didn’t think I was that rough on your girl out there. I can’t speak for Leers, though. He seems to be the type that wants the world to burn.

(Slade whispers something into Cronos’ ear and Cronos responds with a simple nod. Slade then slips past Skittles, packing up their things so that they can be out of the arena as soon as possible.)

Skittles: In a hurry, Mr. Diamante?

(Cronos shrugs his shoulders and leans against the wall.)

Cronos Diamante: Hurry? No. Prepared? Yes. I’m not a young gun anymore, Skittles. I do what I need to do on the show and I leave. I’m sure you can understand that. I wager if you didn’t have to be here right now, you wouldn’t be. Yes?

(The older woman nods and smiles politely.)

Skittles: I’ve been sent to fetch you, if you’re amenable. Mr. Wolf would like to have a word outside of the arena with you personally.

(Cronos walks forward and leans into his locker room to survey how much longer Slade is going to be.)

Cronos Diamante: I don’t know how long this little meeting is going to be, Slade. Meet me at the hotel and open that bottle of scotch we won off those horrible pool players.

(Slade simply nods and Cronos looks to Skittles with a sort of “lead the way” look on his face. He follows behind her far enough to leave her walking room and before he knew it, they were outside the arena in the parking lot. He noticed the familiar Midori right away but the other man, he hadn’t seen before. Cronos wagered he was too young to be the Mr. Wolf that ran the whole show but important enough not to be left alone.)

Cronos Diamante: Skittles informs me you’d like a word with me. What can I do for you?

(The younger man dressed in a Westwood suit gives Cronos a polite smile, not bothering to extend a hand. He looks him up and down, not judging, merely assessing. The man gives a nod to his escort, the Asian man taking a step back.)

Riven Wolf: I’m Riven Wolf, my father sent me here to personally inform you that your services will no longer be required after Champion’s Summit. We appreciate your discretion and hard work though, and we’d like to compensate you for your trouble.

(Riven turns, taking an offered envelope from his escort as Skittles goes to join her partner. He holds out the envelope to the older man.)

Riven Wolf: Your reputation as a career-ender is well known. I personally appreciate you not hurting your target as much as you could have.

(Cronos smirks and takes the envelope from Riven, shoving it into his front pocket not bothering to count it. He hasn’t been stiffed thus far so no need to begin thinking they would start now.)

Cronos Diamante: I’ve only ended careers I would either profit from or had a vendetta to do so. Even being given the incorrect instructions, I didn’t stand to gain anything from hurting the target. I rather believe she has a bright future ahead of her so long as someone like me isn’t hired to “keep her busy” or “make her life a living hell” whichever it is.

(Cronos offers up a smug smile to Riven, taking a measure of the man before him although his next question would do that much more than getting a feel for him would.)

Cronos Diamante: You want her to keep the title, or do you care, Mr. Wolf?

Riven Wolf: I care about keeping her intact. Keeping her busy does not mean physically assaulting her. You’re a clever man, Mr. Diamante. I’m sure you can think of plenty of ways to do just that.

(He takes a step back, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.)

Riven Wolf: It was a pleasure to speak with you, but I don’t want to waste anymore of your time or mine. Have a good night, Mr. Diamante.

(As Riven starts to walk away, Cronos almost lets him leave without correcting him but it’s far too tempting to not.)

Cronos Diamante: You’re right that I’m far too clever to have to resort to physically assaulting her to keep her busy, Riven. But it wasn’t my lack of cleverness that lead to that. It was your organization’s incompetence by letting a certain someone offer me the job rather than treat me with the professional respect you’ve given me the last few meetings.

(Cronos pauses a moment as Riven turns to meet his gaze, showing Cronos he wasn’t ignoring what he had to say.)

Cronos Diamante: Perhaps you’ll remember that the next time you consider employing me. Not to waste anymore of your time or mine, right?

(With that dig at his organization, Cronos turned and left the parking lot on his way to the hotel. It is obvious Cronos is still less than pleased with the lack of professionalism employed to acquire his services and doesn’t want it to happen again. Riven stops in his tracks, smiling to himself and speaks in a hushed tone.)

Riven Wolf: It wasn’t my organization that hired you, Mr. Diamante. I’m just here for damage control.

Skittles: We need to get you home, Riven. Your father will worry.

(He nods to his longtime friend and employee. Riven doesn’t give the problem resolution specialist a chance to scold him again before Midori takes his arm, leading him back to the blacked-out town car to get him home. Fade to ringside.)

(William West limps along backstage, nursing the wounds from his just-concluded match with Maggie McIntyre. In one hand, he carries his mask. The other, nursing his jaw. He doubles over in pain momentarily, before continuing his walk to his locker room.

He turns a corner, and is greeted by a familiar…. mask.

Before him, stands the Titan of HATE. )

Cal Rayner: So.

(West is mildly annoyed at the presence of the former Dredd standing in his way.)

William West: So, you just gonna stand there or…?

Cal Rayner: You proud of yourself? Looks ta me like you didn’t exactly fight to hard out there.

William West: Go fuck yourself, Cal.

(West attempts to push past the massive wall of HATE, but Rayner shoves him back, hard. West grimaces in pain, clutching at his face.)

Cal Rayner: That girl is trying to tear down the house you helped build. S’like you don’t even care.

(West says nothing. He merely glares at Rayner, in no condition to be fighting off the seven footer.)

Cal Rayner: S’matter? You forget who’s side you’re s’posed to be on?

(Rayner goes to shove West again, but West blocks it, shoving Rayner’s hand away.)

William West: Keep pushing me, brother, and you might find yourself on the wrong side of me.

???: Actually….not a bad idea.

(A smaller figure pushes her way in between the two Pillars of HATE: none other than the Queen Bitch herself, Alyssa Marie Haven.)

Alyssa Marie Haven: You two seem like you’ve got some pent up aggression over your former Banshee. Why don’t you go take it out on each other?

(West looks at Alyssa, and then glares back at Rayner before giving his reply.)

William West: Not interested.

Alyssa Marie Haven: Sorry? Where exactly in that did it say if I gave a shit if you were interested? Last time I checked, I don’t work for you. You work for ME.

(Alyssa thinks for a moment.)

Alyssa Marie Haven: And actually, you didn’t seem keen on your match tonight, did you? I think you said….yes.

(Alyssa looks up at Rayner, an evil smirk on her face.)

Alyssa Marie Haven: I think you said you’d rather face Rayner here in a Last Man Standing match. That sounds lovely.

(West grits his teeth, but says nothing.)

Alyssa Marie Haven: I think, deep down, that you DO want this fight. I certainly think your large friend wants this fight, and frankly, it’ll amuse the hell out of me. So, consider yourselves officially on the dance card for Champion’s Summit. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get rid of the stench of you before it burns my nostrils. Besides…my husband – you know, the World Heavyweight Champion, and your boss? He’s waiting for me at gorilla.

(Alyssa Marie continues on her way, leaving Rayner and West to glare at each other.

Rayner chuckles to himself, and simply walks away, saying nothing more.

West grimaces again, holding onto his jawline, staring after him.

Fade to ringside.)

MM: Are you kidding me? Alyssa Marie is making HATE fight one another? That’s not right!

VA: What’s not right about it, Malone? Maybe if West won’t throw hands with Maggie McIntyre, the Titan of HATE can inspire him to do so!

MM: I just don’t understand this, ladies and gentlemen, but nonetheless, it seems we’ll have a Last Man Standing match at Champions Summit III between the Masochist and the Titan of HATE, as Cal Rayner will face the man also known as Lunatikk Crippler!

VA: And I can’t wait!




NR: The following contest is our main event of the evening, and it is an eight-person tag team match, scheduled for one fall!

The lights dim, but surprisingly, the opening chords of Silverchair’s ‘Anthem for the Year 2000’ begin. The crowd erupts in boos as the parody, played earlier to mock Chris Kage during Alexander Haven’s previous appearance, echoes throughout the Combat Zone. Both Alexander Haven and the COO of EWA Entertainment, Alyssa Marie Haven, emerge from behind the curtain. The couple share matching smug looks of confidence on their face as they make their way toward the ring.

MM: This is ridiculous. The music mocking Chris Kage, what Alexander Haven did earlier to try to undermine the marriage of Chris Kage and Stacy Vandervort, Haven announcing his intention not to compete here tonight…I mean, why the hell is he even coming out here?

VA: Well Malone, if you’d open your eyes and shut your piehole, you’d see these technicians scurrying around beside us…I think we’re about to be joined on commentary! This is great!

Indeed, EWA workers are busy setting up a pair of headsets to the left of Vincent Ashe, and Haven and Alyssa Marie make their way over to the table. Haven stops to get in the face of a belligerent old woman, screaming profanities at the World Heavyweight Champion, who’s now dressed in a suit with the championship draped over his shoulder, before having a seat next to Alyssa at the commentary position, putting on the headset.

VA: Alexander Haven, the one true king! Allow me to speak for Mike Malone when I say we’re honored and privileged to have you and Queen Alyssa Marie join us tonight!

Alexander Haven: It’s about goddamned time someone shows some proper respect around here. How about you, Malone? Are you prepared to bend the knee to the one true king of professional wrestling?

MM: I think I’ll just sit down here and do my job, if that’s alright with you, Alex.

Alexander Haven: Mr. Haven.

MM: Beg your pardon?

Alexander Haven: We’re not friends. You think that because we joined you for dinner once a few years ago, and could barely stomach that garbage your wife called “home cooking”, that we’re friends? Absolutely not. You will address me as Mr. Haven going forward.

A long silence, as the music slowly fades out.

Alexander Haven: Malone?

MM: Whatever you say, Mr. Haven. But with that being said, what do you have to say for yourself with your revelation that Chris Kage has a previous marriage, and that his Las Vegas wedding to Stacy Vandervort is apparently not legal? What gives you the right to try and break up a marriage?

Alyssa Marie Haven: Excuse me? Please, Mr. Malone, remember that you are gainfully employed by this man, Alexander Haven, and watch your tone when you speak to your superior.

Alexander Haven: Besides, Malone, I’m not trying to break anyone’s marriage up – even marriages that aren’t actually legal! I simply presented Miss Vandervort with information that I felt she should know. If anything, I should be thanked for looking out for the woman’s best interest.

MM: In any event–

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


NR: Introducing Team #1! First, from Albany, New York, weighing 255 pounds, he is a member of HATE…NOTHING!!!

MM: And NOTHING heads into the final chapter of his battle with Jacob Mephisto in two weeks’ time, live from Los Angeles at Champions Summit III.

Alexander Haven: Do you realize that Mephisto hasn’t cut a promo in literally months?

VA: I did realize that, Alex, but what point are you trying to make?

Alexander Haven: I’m just saying that I’d like to know if he’s actually prepared for this match with my brother-in-law. If there’s one thing Prudence is, it’s tenacious. He’ll give Mephisto the fight of his life in that three stages of hell match they’ve cooked up for one another. Probably the beating of his life, at that.

MM: How is your relationship with your sister, Alyssa Marie? After all, she’s married to NOTHI–

Alyssa Marie Haven: My family is none of your goddamn business, Malone.

VA: HAHAHA! She told you, Malone!

The Purveyor emerges from the crowd, hopping the guardrail as Placebo’s classic blasts through the Combat Zone. NOTHING casts a blank look toward the World Heavyweight Champion on commentary, before disregarding him and sliding into the ring. The lights come up, and are quickly followed by In This Moment’s ‘Adrenalize Me’ as the crowd roars to its feet!

NR: Introducing his tag team partners! First, from Chicago, Illinois….SAHARA!!


White pyro explodes sending a jolt across the arena as white light bathes the rampway, causing Alexander Haven to jump in his seat, having to readjust his headset. The jumbotron fades in from black to a white, as the letters S A H A R A, scroll across.

Alexander Haven: Goddamnit! I wasn’t ready for that. If she wasn’t obnoxious enough already, now we give her pyro that nearly blows out my eardrums?!

Alyssa Marie Haven: She’s loud, why not make her louder?

VA: I wish she’d shut up, personally…

Emerging onto the rampway in her black and silver attire, her hair braided back like a warrior, the camera zooms in on the front of her boots, which read FALSE on one and QUEEN on the other.

MM: No doubt a message meant for one of her opponents tonight, Grace Goeren!

VA: Oh really, professor? Did you figure that out all on your own?! The former Fallout member known as Syphilis has a death wish tonight…

MM: Her name is Sahara, Ashe.

VA: Maybe it was Sahara, but Syphilis is more fitting, wouldn’t you agree, Alexander? I mean, you’ve heard–

Alexander Haven: Yeah, I’ve heard the rumors. Hell, I probably started some of them. And Vince, I sort of recall you having your head so far up her ass all those months she was in the Fallout. Maybe we should have you tested, Vinny?

Alyssa Marie Haven: We call that a burn about something that actually causes burning…

Alexander Haven: A second degree burn!

Walking down the rampway, Sahara foregoes her usual entrance into the ring, but instead walks around the the opposite side of the entrance ramp, remaining on the outside of the ring, waiting as others make their entrances.

VA: She’s made so many enemies over the months, she doesn’t even want to get in the ring. Her own team doesn’t like her.

MM: Love her or hate her, you can’t help but turn and take notice when the Crimson Queen appears —

Malone is quickly interrupted by a blinding white light from the entrance area, as the thunderous drums of Lions’ ‘White Angel’ begin to boom through the Combat Zone.

NR: Their partner, from Las Vegas, Nevada, she is the White Angel…ELIZABETH…GAUNT!!

Gaunt steps out, a maniacal look in her eye as she quickly marches down toward the ring, circling around it directly to where Sahara stands…and the two begin an intense staredown on the outside.

VA: This woman is a certifiable lunatic, Malone!

MM: Indeed, and as we found out earlier, it’ll be these two vying for the Combat Championship of Grace Goeren–

VA: WORLD Combat Champion–

Alexander Haven: No. It’s not.

MM: –at Champions Summit III, in a Triple Threat Ladder Match.

Alexander Haven: See, I don’t even need to compete in this match. These two are going to rip each others’ throats out before we ever get underway —


And the crowd explodes to its feet as ‘I Will Not Bow’ blasts through the venue, and a flurry of pyrotechnics go off as Chris Kage steps out onto the entrance ramp, holding hands with his lovely bride, Stacy Vandervort.

NR: And their partner! Accompanied to the ring by Stacy Vandervort, from Buffalo, New York, weighing 235 pounds…CHRIS…KAGE!!

Alexander Haven: Notice that Kage is no longer referred to as The Incomparable. Right now, ladies and gentlemen, savor this, because this is the last time you’ll see Chris Kage in the form you see him now. At Champions Summit III, I cement my legacy, and I cement the legacy of my former “best friend” as the failure coat-tail rider he always has been.

Alyssa Marie Haven: You fucking cunt.

The camera pans toward Alyssa Marie, sitting at commentary, whose eyes are firing daggers toward the direction of Stacy Vandervort. Stacy sees it, and smiles, waving at Alyssa – which brings the Queen Bitch right out of her seat! Haven grabs her, quickly talking to her and convincing her to sit back down.

Alexander Haven: There’ll be time for that later, Alyssa. She’ll get what she deserves for what she did to you.

The staredown between Sahara and Gaunt is interrupted by the lights blacking out…


…and a lone spotlight shining down on the entrance ramp…


NR: And introducing their opponents! First, from Las Vegas, Nevada, weighing in at 230 pounds…SEAN…BODEN!!

Boden stands in the spotlight, a smirk on his face as he adjusts his suit jacket before heading toward the ring. He rolls underneath, staring across at the Purveyor of HATE.

MM: Sean Boden’s helped Jacob Mephisto make NOTHING’s life a living hell over the past few months, but Boden has something that’s possibly even more dangerous than the Harbinger of HATE awaiting him at Champions Summit III, as he steps inside what is literally the deadliest match in the history of this sport, the Human Torch match, to face former friend Ryan Cuddihy.

Alyssa Marie Haven: And that’s a match that the EWA is not sanctioning, I should mention. Boden and Cuddihy have signed the appropriate paperwork, and EWA Entertainment will not be held liable in any manner for whatever may occur during that…”match”, if you want to call it that.

As Boden continues to glare in the direction of NOTHING, the Purveyor takes a step toward him. At that moment, a giant BOOM sounds throughout the arena, and the audience explodes into a chorus of boos as that familiar mushroom cloud falls over the Jumbotron…

NR: And his partners! First, making her EWA debut here tonight…ALICE! And accompanying her, from Dortmund, Germany, she is the reigning EWA Combat Champion…The God Queen…GRACE…GOEREN!!!

The monstrous Alice appears at the entrance ramp, but Grace Goeren storms out from behind her, eyes blazing as she marches down toward the ring area – the two former Fallout members clearly in her sights.

Alexander Haven: I’ve seen that look in her eyes before. Two weeks ago in Albuquerque. Grace has a lot to prove here tonight.

MM: The reigning Combat Champion is making a beeline for Elizabeth Gaunt and Sahara, and they’re marching toward her! And the fight is on!

On the outside of the ring, Grace slugs Gaunt right in the face, knocking her back, but Sahara quickly sprints forward, taking Grace down with a tackle on the outside! Sahara hammers down on her former God Queen with rights and lefts before the enormous Alice grabs her by the hair, lifting her up and flinging her like a rag doll into the barricade on the outside of the ring!

MM: What an incredible display of power!

In the meantime, NOTHING and Sean Boden have begun the match on the inside of the ring – Grace, Alice, Kage and Gaunt make their way to their respective corners as the leaders of Pariah and HATE slug it out inside the ring. NOTHING gains an early advantage, whipping Boden into the turnbuckle and going for Pure Hate! But Boden quickly ducks out of the ring, taking a powder and smirking up at Prudence Collins.

VA: Great ring presence from Sean Boden there!

MM: Indeed it was, but there won’t be anywhere to run when he’s inside the Human Torch match!

Alexander Haven: What do you mean, “run”, Malone? That’s smart strategy on the part of Sean Boden. He saw the maneuver coming, and ducked out of the way. Terrific work.

MM: I was just saying that–

Alexander Haven: Well, maybe you shouldn’t say anything.

MM: It’s my job to…nevermind. Boden slides back into the ring now, and goes to tag Grace Goeren…but Grace is refusing the tag! Boden rolls his eyes, and tags in the mighty Alice instead!

Alexander Haven: Let’s see what she has to offer here. She’s not even officially under EWA contract, did you know that?

MM: Then how is she competing here tonight?

Alexander Haven: Because this is my company, Malone, and I get what I want. Grace was all too willing to oblige when she learned who would be on the other team.

VA: Of course she was! Our God Queen is brilliant, and she knew Alice would punish those traitorous lepers that cost her the…I mean…um…

Alexander Haven: Shut up, Vince.

NOTHING circles Alice, and the monster lunges at him, but the Purveyor’s speed enables him to quickly duck her grasp, tagging in Chris Kage instead, who vaults over the top rope, sprinting at Alice and launching himself at her with a flying forearm! Alice staggers backwards, and Kage hits the ropes again, launching himself a second time and driving the behemoth back against the ropes. Kage shakes his head, hitting the ropes one more time…but as he leaps toward Alice, she absolutely flattens him with a huge lariat, spinning Kage in mid-air as he crashes to the mat!

Alexander Haven: Better luck next time, Chris! Except, no, you won’t have any luck at all next time.

Stacy Vandervort paces on the outside, concerned, as Alice pumps a fist in the air, clearly proud of her efforts.

Alyssa Marie Haven: If this bitch doesn’t stop walking around in front of me…

Stacy turns, smiling innocently at Alyssa, before turning back toward the ring. Alice, meanwhile, looks back toward Grace, seeking her approval, but Grace points frantically, as Kage has made the tag into Elizabeth Gaunt. Gaunt races toward Alice, leaping on her back and applying a chokehold! Alice flails her arms wildly, trying to break free, and Grace Goeren reaches out, tagging Alice on the shoulder. Grace quickly enters the ring and begins hammering away on Gaunt’s back, causing her to break the hold as Alice paws at the mat, frantically rolling to the outside in a fit of coughing. Grace meanwhile continues the assault on the White Angel, stomping away at her in the corner before screaming down at her.


Grace works on Gaunt in the corner, pausing a moment to spit in the direction of Chris Kage and Sahara on the outside, and a buzz suddenly comes from the capacity crowd…


Jacob Mephisto is suddenly spotted, as he leaps over the guardrail and pulls NOTHING right off the ring apron! NOTHING, however, quickly recovers, and the fight is on at ringside! Referee Danny Smith races to the outside of the ring, trying to break up the fracas, but to no avail, as Mephisto and NOTHING spill over the guardrail and into the crowd!

VA: Security! Security!

Alexander Haven: Belay that order. Let them fight. Let them wipe each other out, for all I care.

Mephisto and NOTHING continue to brawl through the crowd, while meanwhile in the ring Grace pulls Gaunt to her feet…and out of nowhere Gaunt leaps into the air, driving the God Queen’s face down on her knees as she hits the mat!

MM: QUEEN OF DIRT! Gaunt hit the Queen of Dirt!

Danny Smith races back in the ring as Gaunt hooks the leg…








Sahara reaches out, slapping Gaunt on the shoulder!

MM: She just tagged herself in during Elizabeth Gaunt’s cover!

Alexander Haven: Clever girl.

Sahara drops to the outside, yanking Gaunt underneath the ropes and slamming her own partner face-first into the steel steps, before diving back into the ring! And now the fight is on as Sahara and Grace tee off on one another!

VA: She wanted Grace for herself! Be careful what you wish for, you walking case of VD!

Alyssa Marie Haven: Speaking of VD…

A loud thump is heard as the headset is slammed to the table, and a moment later, Alyssa Marie spins Stacy Vandervort around on the outside, slugging her right in the face!

MM: Oh, come on! That’s uncalled for?

Alexander Haven: Uncalled for? Let’s talk about when Stacy beat my wife senseless after kidnapping her two weeks ago? Was that uncalled for, you dumb fuck?

Alyssa mounts the former Executive Assistant, raining down punches as Stacy desperately tries to cover her face…and the crowd roars as Chris Kage hops down from the ring apron, wrapping his arms around the Queen Bitch and pulling her off! But Alyssa is like a rabid animal, and begins wildly throwing punches at Kage as well!

Alexander Haven: Oh fuck this–

And Haven slams down the headset, marching over to Kage and demanding he let the still-swinging Alyssa Marie go!

VA: Just beat his ass, Alex!

MM: He can’t, thanks to the no-contact stipulation he himself enacted!

Inside the ring, Sahara has gained the upper hand, and kicks Grace Goeren in the stomach! She flings the God Queen’s head between her legs, hooking both of Grace’s arms behind her back, before driving her face first into the mat!

MM: The Downfall! That’s Michael Draven’s move!

VA: Of course it is, Malone! One failure teaching another!

Sahara stares down at Grace, struggling to get to her feet, before pumping a fist in the air!

MM: She’s calling for the Flight of the Valkyrie!


Sahara sprints toward the ropes, only to be caught in the back by a kick from Sean Boden! The former Fallout member spins around, lunging for Boden, but the Dead Soul dodges her, grabbing her by the neck and dropping to the floor, snapping Sahara’s throat against the top rope! Sahara staggers backwards, right into the clutches of the God Queen…



Grace hooks the blonde’s leg, and Danny Smith makes the count…



















NR: Here are your winners! The team of Sean Boden, Alexander Haven–

MM: He wasn’t even in the damned match!

NR: –Alice, and Grace Goeren!

On the outside, Chris Kage checks on Stacy Vandervort, as Haven slides in the ring, congratulating Grace, who simply rolls her eyes. The champion turns away, hoisting the World Heavyweight Championship high above his head, as a blur suddenly races past him…



Alice attempts to come to her God Queen’s rescue, but a flood of referees and security officials race down to the ring, quickly breaking up the brawl…but a recovered Sahara leaps into the fray, swinging wildly at Gaunt, Grace, and Alice! The referees desperately swarm together to try to keep the former Fallout members apart, as they snarl and scream at one another. Meanwhile in the ring, as Haven watches with an amused look on his face, Chris Kage slips back into the ring, and yanks on the World Heavyweight Championship in the CEO’s hand! Haven maintains his own grip, and the two go nose to nose, each holding onto a side of the most prestigious championship in the industry!

MM: This is pandemonium!


Out of nowhere on the outside, RYAN CUDDIHY appears, and begins throwing lefts and rights at Sean Boden! Boden swings back as the two brawl up the ramp, uninhibited, as the referees and security are at maximum capacity trying to keep the Fallout members apart!

MM: What an unbelievable night! For Allison Haines and Vincent Ashe, I’m Mike Malone, and we’ll see you in three weeks at Champions Summit III!

We fade with one last look at the twisted angry faces of the Fallout girls as they struggle against security to get at one another…and at the former best friends, Chris Kage and Alexander Haven, all of whom will settle their differences in Los Angeles at Champions Summit III.

Fade to black.


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Mojo & Nikki Caldwell vs The Vice Squad – Sean Boden
Joe Lemon vs Alex Brooks – Will Santa
Sammy Rochester vs Ray Willmott – Harlan Heubaum
Azrael Goeren vs Laura Seton – Harlan Heubaum
Jacob Mephisto vs Indrid Calder – Sean Boden
Cronos Diamante & Ethan Leers vs Natalie Burrows & Rachel Ellsworth – Erik Mann
Maggie McIntyre vs William West – Val Kyrie, Will Santa
Alexander Haven, Sean Boden, Grace Goeren & Alice vs Chris Kage, NOTHING, Elizabeth Gaunt & Sahara – Gates