EWA Entertainment Presents: Battlelines 35October 19, 2017The NYSWF Memorial ArenaAlbany, NY

Battlelines 35 Results


(We open up on a shaky, grainy, nighttime shot of the original NYSWF Arena. The portion of the parking lot visible is packed with cars as some late-comers rush to enter the building lest they miss any part of the show.

The exterior shot fades and we’re inside of the raucous NYSWF Arena on the night of its first pay-per-view event, Orgy of Violence on September 5, 1998. In the ring, the inaugural NYSWF World Champion is about to be crowned as Ray Henson, Joe Satre, and Johnny Sledge battle it out in a triple threat match.)

(As Satre climbs to the top rope, the lights go out. A strobe light is then turned on, and the man that Ray Henson has been shaking hands with after dealing with the NLS comes out. You can not see his face, but you can tell it is him. The man gets to the cage door, and asks for the key, which is quickly handed over. He unlocks the door, and then calls another man in. The second man, slightly bigger than the first, steps into the cage and yanks a stunned Satre off the ropes. He first hits Satre in the ribs, and then powerbombs him on the floor. He picks him up again, and by the throat, he tosses him over the top rope into the ring. As the second man leaves, the first one goes back into the ring and shakes hands with Henson, who is now standing up. The two men then leave as the lights turn back on.)

JA : (In awe) I don’t know what just happened, but Henson is now picking up Satre.. He nails The Western Spike!

CP : It has to be over! The pin, and a one.. two.. three!!

JA : We have a new champion!!

(We fade back to the grainy exterior shot of the NYSWF Arena as an old, familiar voice is heard. It’s the voice of the Founder of the NYSWF, Corey Collins.)

“For over four years, one company in New York state helped to define and shift the landscape of professional wrestling. Through the halls of the NYSWF Arena walked men already known as legends in this business – Grady Smith, Jack Daniels, and “Cold” Harding Cash. Along the way they met young upstarts who would shift the worldview of legends and fans alike; men like Sean Sanders, Alexander Haven and Chris Kage.

Those weren’t the only men who shook the foundations of the NYSWF and the world around it. As 1998 came to a close, my own brother began to lay claim to the company and the revolution we all had started.”

(The screen fades back into the interior of an arena, this time as The Public Enemy battle Defenders of Earth. Due to outside interference by Pru Collins, in disguise as his brother, the Defenders took the victory.)

After the pin was made, Collins went in and shot a glance at Goku.. He shook Goku’s hand again, but then pulled him in and hit him with a DDT! He stood up quickly and kicked Kamen in the ribs and hit him with the DDT as well. As the crowd booed him once again, Collins rolled the men out of the ring, grabbed a mic, and sat down in the corner…

Collins: There comes a time in everyone’s life when they realize just what their destiny is.. As for the men I have ambushed tonight, they will be nothing more than the people that never get anywhere in life. They will stay in one spot for the rest of their miserable careers, and they will never prosper. Why I aligned myself with such fools is still unknown to me, but tonight it has stopped.. The joke which was labeled ‘The Corporation’ is now over. Everything about that group, from the name to the members is everything I hate. Since my childhood I have been tormented by the type of people that grow and prosper to lead such a group.. such a ‘Corporation’. And then I came here, I arrived at this destination, and I decided to form a group of worthless ‘talent’ and give them a nice name…

Well tonight that ends. The Corporation is, was and always will be worthless. The suit and tie I once wore.. It wasn’t me. The grin that was always across my face.. It wasn’t me. None of what you have seen from me was the truth, but soon the truth will be told. The torment, the name-calling, the hate that I have lived through, and the hate that I have buried inside of me will soon be unleashed unto the NYSWF. You can hate me if you want; it won’t be any different than the rest of my life.. But just remember, that it always comes back to you.

Hate me now, and regret it later…

(The shot fades back to the exterior shot we have been seeing as the real Corey Collins continues to speak over the shot.)

“From the beginnings of The Corporation with Haywood Jublome and Tiger; to the birth of HATE with NOTHING, Zero and Greygore; and onto the rise of The Youth with Alexander Haven, Chris Kage, and Shawn Hunter… not to mention Danny Dynamite… factions ran wild in the NYSWF and still do to this day.

But it was always the accomplishments of the individual that shined above all rest. Accomplishments of men who, still today, stand at the top of the professional wrestling world.

Like the very first Triple Crown and Grand Slam Winner – ‘The Titan of HATE’ Dredd.”

(The screen fades to the moment Dredd defeated Darien Mamoru on July 21, 1999 to claim the NYSWF Hardcore Title and his Triple Crown.)

“With eleven title reigns, the man who held more titles in the NYSWF than any other man – NOTHING.”

(The screen transitions to NOTHING defeating Dredd on November 20, 1999 to claim his first NYSWF World Heavyweight Title.)

“The man who held the NYSWF TV Title a record five times with wins over Haywood Jublime, Spiral, and Chris Kage – Michael Draven.”

(The screen transitions to Michael Draven defeating Chris Kage on December 17, 2000 to begin his third, and longest, NYSWF TV Title reign.)

“The man who held the NYSWF World Title for a record of five times and has the most overall wins in NYSWF history, with Championship victories over Ray Henson, NOTING, Jack Daniels, Alexander Haven, and Matt Hoffman – Grady Smith.”

(The screen transitions to several shots of Grady Smith battling the men from whom he would win the NYSWF World Heavyweight Title, capturing the moment on October 31, 1998 when he defeated Ray Henson to begin his first reign.)

“And the longest reigning NYSWF World and Television Champion at 92 and 134 days respectively with Championship victories over Robert Orr, Michael Draven, Dubelicious, and Jonathan Storm – Alexander Haven.”

(The screen transitions again to shots of Alexander Haven battling the men noted above, stopping at the moment he, with the help of his Rebellion ally Robert Orr, overcame Michael Draven in a triple threat match to start his record-setting 92-day reign as NYSWF World Heavyweight Champion. The archive footage of the moment in question begins to play back…)

Damnit, this isn’t right folks. This isn’t a match, it’s a damn mugging! It’s basically 3 on 1… no one could survive with those odds. Nonetheless, now both Haven and Orr fall on top of the almost unconscious body of Michael Draven, and with each having an arm raised in the air for victory, the ref makes the count.




Draven manages a weak kick out, but it’s too late… this was all academic the moment the match was signed. A travesty has just occurred here tonight, folks.

(As soon as the bell rings, Orr slides outside of the ring, and walks over to the timekeeper’s table. Here, he picks up the World Heavyweight Championship belt, as well as a microphone. He re-enters the ring, and gets on the stick for this one final time.)

Robert Orr: Now… I’m sure that many of you can already see where this is going. As the old adage goes, out with the old, and in with the new. Even though I’m hardly old, that is the concept that surrounds us at this very moment in time. What you have seen here tonight is the passing of the torch, if you will. Now… in case you’ve been asleep this whole time, yes, Alexander Haven is indeed your new World Champion. Alex, come on over here.

(Orr then puts the title in the hands of Alexander Haven. Haven takes it from him, and places it around his waist. Orr gets on the stick once more.)

Robert Orr: You know, it’s funny. It was here in the NYSWF that I started my career, and how appropriate is it that it’s here that I end my career. The NYSWF — the place that has built up so many wrestlers… and to think that I’m merely one of them. Surely those who know me have seen this day coming. For on November 5, in the year 2000, you have seen “The Superstar” Robert Orr wrestle in his final professional wrestling match. This is it… the final swan song for yours truly. And so, it is with this that I leave you on this night. I leave you in good hands, NYSWF. With Alexander Haven at the helm, this place is bound to skyrocket upwards. And Alex, make me proud. I didn’t choose you for nothing. Everything happens for a reason, believe it or not. I’ll be seeing you around…

(The shot fades back to the exterior shot of the original NYSWF Arena.)

“These men, and others, shaped what would become one of the most exciting, competitive, and tumultuous businesses to have boomed over the past twenty years.”

(The grainy shot of the NYSWF Arena begins to crossfade into a daytime shot of the brand new, state-of-the-art NYSWF Memorial Arena. The building is a sight to behold, but inside is even better.

The shot fades to one of the interior of the NYSWF Memorial Arena’s first level – a trip down memory lane in the NYSWF Museum and Hall of Champions. NYSWF championship titles are on display in glass cases along with huge photos of the champions of yesteryear winning said titles and celebrating. As we snake through the Museum, Collins continues to speak.)

“But yesterday is gone, and the memories of the NYSWF are just that – memories.

Tonight, we return to Albany, New York and the brand new NYSWF Memorial Arena as we set out to watch the Warriors of the EWA as they compete in the first-ever professional wrestling event in this new facility.

Tonight, a revolution started nearly twenty years ago burns stronger than ever before as pride and championships will be on the line.

Tonight, we welcome you to our home and watch with joy as the EWA continues to carry on in the spirit of the NYSWF – spirit found in Warriors like Sahara, Maggie McIntyre, and Grace Goren. Warriors who stand tall in the face of defiance and wage war on those who would see them fall.


…Excellence Rises.”

Our camera focuses in on Mike Malone and Vincent Ashe to open the show – Ashe seems unusually excited, even more so than usual.

Mike Malone: Ladies and gentlemen, we come to you tonight from the hallowed grounds of the former NYSWF Arena here in Albany, New York. A place where so many legendary moments in our great sport occurred. We’re live for Battlelines 35 in the brand new NYSWF Memorial Arena, built on the very site that the former NYSWF Arena stood, and what a night we have for you–

Vincent Ashe: All of that stuff can wait, Malone. Do everyone a favor and just shut up while the camera guy here gets a nice good closeup on what I’m wearing…

Behind the announce table, Vincent takes a step back and unbuttons the sports coat he strangely had on to reveal one of Grace Goeren’s purple and black “Praise Grace” t-shirts. He proudly waves the camera closer as Mike facepalms next to him.

VA: Get a real good shot of this for everyone watching at home. Look at the quality of the shirt I’m wearing. Just look at the quality!

MM: You are just shameless, you know that? Absolutely shameless.

VA: And soft? You want to talk about soft? It’s like I’m wearing a shirt made of koala bear fur, that’s how soft this shirt is. And here’s the best part…all of you can buy this shirt on the official EWA Shop website for only $24.95! It comes in Mens, Ladies and Kids sizes and…

MM: Are you seriously plugging Grace Goeren’s merchandise on the air?! We’ve got a show to do!

VA: Quiet Malone, just because you don’t have any fashion taste doesn’t mean our viewers have to suffer too. So folks, pause the live stream and get your ass over to the EWA Shop and buy these before they are sold out…our God Queen has over 10 different shirts to choose from and each one is more holy than the last!

MM: Do we really have to listen to this? Can we cut to a video package or something?

VA: And trust your ol’ pal Vincent here…buy these shirts NOW or you will definitely miss out because these babies will fly off the shelves when our beloved God Queen demolishes Draven, Sahara and NOTHING later tonight and becomes our World Champion once again!

MM: Is Joe Lemon doing anything? Maybe we can cut to him…

VA: So let’s all Praise Grace together and welcome in her second glorious reign in style! Praise Grace! Praise Grace! Praise Grace!

MM: Are you done?


MM: Ugh.

VA: Okay, now I’m done.

MM: Do you report the money that Grace gives you every week to the IRS or is it all under the table? Just asking for a friend.

VA: Grace Goeren doesn’t recognize the authority of the IRS and neither do I.

MM: Great. Do you think we can go to our first match now? Or do you have more time on this infomercial bit you’re doing?

VA: Wait, one more thing!

MM: Please God, take me now…

VA: Grace wanted me to tell you that she’s planning a huge celebration party tonight after she wins the World title and you’re definitely not invited. She also wanted me to slap you and call you a “cunt-sicle” for all the bad things you’ve said about her over the last few months. So c’mere, let’s get it over with…

MM: (sighs) In any event, as you can see…the Asylum has been lowered to kick off the show, ladies and gentlemen. Stacy Vandervort is in the ring, preparing to address the EWA audience, but just, for a moment, take a look at the mere size of this monstrosity.

(Indeed, as the camera slowly pans around the Asylum, we notice the changes that have been made. The structure still extends out past the ring by a few feet, but now, there’s an elevated catwalk extending three feet out from the ring as well, suspended by cables hanging from the top of the cage structure. The pods, which used to be in the corners on the outside of the ring, now sit in the corners on this catwalk, attached to the side of the structure. The pods themselves have now changed, and are made of a steel mesh, much like the outer walls of the cage themselves, with a sliding roof that opens to provide access. The catwalk extends from the ring to the cage on three sides of the ring, and on the side facing the commentary position, the catwalk is non-existent, allowing access to the floor – and likely, to whatever lies underneath the ring.

Inside the structure, in the center of the ring, stands the EWA Executive Assistant, Stacy Vandervort, dressed in a red blouse and matching skirt. She smiles as the camera focuses in on her, and raises the microphone to her lips.)

Stacy Vandervort: On this very site that we come to you from tonight, some of the great battles in professional wrestling history have taken place. Men like Jack Daniels…

(A pop from the crowd)

Stacy Vandervort: ‘Cold’ Harding Cash…

(Another pop)

Stacy Vandervort: NOTHING…

(A louder pop)

Stacy Vandervort: Grady Smith…

(A huge pop from the crowd for that name)

Stacy Vandervort: Alexander Haven…

(Another huge pop, as the NYSWF base clearly loves the missing-in-action owner of the EWA)

Stacy Vandervort: And my husband, Chris Kage…

(A pop nearly rivaling Grady’s echoes from the rafters of the NYSWF Memorial Arena)

Stacy Vandervort: They all did battle here. And tonight, on these very grounds where all those warriors shed their blood for the sake of becoming champion…tonight, we have the Asylum match.

Now, everyone knows what happened in Sydney. A match which was supposed to be four of the industry’s greats battling out for the EWA World Heavyweight Championship was marred by involvement and interference from outside parties. Hence the reason I’m standing inside this horrific structure tonight. But…over the past two weeks, the rumor mill has been churning. Those very people that ruined the main event in Sydney have apparently been plotting and scheming on how to get inside the Asylum. We certainly know it’s been done before – Kharrion and Tyler Morris, in the past, were successful at breaching the walls of this structure. But tonight…we’re going to change things up.

(Vandervort exits the ring through the ropes, walking carefully with her heels on the steel grating of the catwalk surrounding the ring, until she reaches one of the pods facing the entrance ramp.)

Stacy Vandervort: Normally, our warriors in the Asylum match would start out in these pods, and at five minute intervals, be released into the bout. But given that this contest is one fall to a finish…we’re going to change things up. These pods…they won’t be opening at all tonight. And that’s because NOTHING, Sahara, Michael Draven, Grace Goeren…

They won’t be inside them.

VA: What’s she talking about, Malone?

(Stacy gestures to the first pod.)

Stacy Vandervort: Inside this pod will be the EWA Network Champion, The Banshee, Maggie McIntyre.

(A pop from the crowd for the sable-haired champion, as Stacy crosses over to the opposite pod.)

Stacy Vandervort: Inside this pod will be the Masochist himself, William West.

(Another reaction from the crowd for the former Lunatikk Crippler. Vandervort enters the ring, crossing to the other side and gesturing to one of the corner pods.)

Stacy Vandervort: This pod here will house the monstrous Alice.

VA: WHAT?! She can’t do that! That’s an affront to the God Queen! That’s religious slander and discrimination! I will not allow it!

MM: I don’t think you have a choice, Vince!

(Stacy gestures to the final pod from inside the ring.)

Stacy Vandervort: And in the interest of ensuring that there’s no involvement from HATE in this contest? This pod will house both Indrid Calder and the Titan, Cal Rayner!

(A loud ovation from the crowd at the news, clearly pleased with the notion of getting a fair contest decided inside the Asylum.)

Stacy Vandervort: Everyone who interfered in Sydney will be locked inside these pods for the duration of the match. The pods are padlocked at the top, and there will be no entry, no exit. As for the other issue…

(Stacy pauses for a moment, before continuing.)

Stacy Vandervort: In Sydney, every one of our referees was taken out during this contest. Tensions ran high, and so I’ve brought in a special referee for tonight’s Asylum match. Someone who won’t be shoved around by anyone involved here. Someone who will call the match right down the middle and won’t be intimidated by the competitors, the people locked inside the pods, or this ominous structure. That perso….

(Bur before Stacy can finish her thought, the arena is flooded, first with a familiar anthem, quickly followed by one of the most raucous reactions you’ll probably hear tonight…)


VA: The Youth King is here, Malone!

(“Hail to the King” by Avenged Sevenfold continues to blare throughout the arena, and the jeers emanating from the audience rival all the cheers we heard just a moment ago. Stepping out onto the stage are indeed the self-proclaimed Youth King, “Perfection” Martin Robertson and, now, his… paramore(?) Alyssa Marie Haven. Robertson, dressed in a pair of blue jeans, a dark sports jacket and, underneath that, a very, very old “The Paragon of Virtue” Grady Smith t-shirt, reaches the center of the entrance ramp first before reaching his hand back towards Alyssa, who does a small pirouette in her skin-tight black dress before leaning into Martin. Martin pulls Alyssa in, giving her a brief, but passionate, kiss before stepping ahead of her by a step or two to begin pointing and yelling out to the crowd…)

MM: This kid has some explaining to do, Ashe!

VA: Explaining for what? For taking his rightful place atop the throne of the EWA and, in doing so, taking himself a queen and getting rid of all the old, senile, way past their prime and bedtime paper kings and their lackey henchmen in the process?

MM: What would your precious God Queen say about that?

VA: He’s the Youth King, she’s a God Queen… Completely different, Malone… Pay attention!

(Robertson reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a microphone. He shakes it towards Stacy, who’s back standing in the center of the ring as Martin and Alyssa smile in her direction…)

Martin Robertson: Well, if this isn’t the famed NYSWF Arena…What a pile of crap! I mean, how did you spend all those years in this hell hole, Alyssa?

(The crowd jeers… I mean, of course, you just insulted them all, right? But before Martin begins to speak again, the crowd starts to chant… just like only an Albany, New York crowd can…)


(Martin attempts to cover Alyssa’s ears, but she’s not having any of it, snatching the microphone away from Martin…)

Alyssa Marie Haven: You all can shut the fuck up! Because what I did down in Sydney was…

(But before she can continue, Martin snatches the microphone back away from her.)

Martin Robertson: You don’t owe these people an explanation for anything, Alyssa. They don’t deserve a damn thing! But someone that does deserve an explanation… is me!

(Stacy looks down at Martin, trying to study him and figure out exactly why he’s out here at the moment…)

Martin Robertson: Stacy, it’s great that you’ve finally decided to bring in some fair and impartial referees into my Youth Kingdom, Stacy. It shows growth… It shows that you can be taught… just like the obedient dog that you should be!

Stacy Vandervort: How dare you…

Martin Robertson: How dare I? How dare I what, Stacy… come out here and call things for what they are? I call you a dog because that’s exactly what you are, Stacy Vandervort, Executive Assistant of the EWA. You’re a dog because you do exactly what you’re to…

(The crowd, as rowdy as they used to be nearly 20 years ago, is doing their best to try and drown Martin out…)

“Shut! The! Fuck! Up!” *clap, clap, clap clap clap*

(Martin is trying to do his best to ignore the crowd as Alyssa begins to walk around attempting to quiet everyone down…)

Martin Robertson: You do what you’re told. Whether it’s coming from your husband, the “I’m Crippled” Chris Kage… Which, by the way, do you ever plan on taking his last name, or are you just as ashamed of him as everyone else here is?

(Stacy shakes her head in the ring, looking down, trying to do her best to not let the insults get to her…)

Martin Robertson:… Or are you now basically the puppet for the “Missing Mind” Alexander Haven, who finally smartened up, realized that I’m the real King around here, and took his balls out of Alyssa’s purse and went back into hiding in some run down bar in the UK?

Stacy Vandervort: Enough!

Martin Robertson: No!

(An audible “ooohhh” is let out by the crowd)

Martin Robertson: No, it’s not enough, because you’re going to stand there and listen to everything I have to say!

“Shut! The! Fuck! Up!” *clap, clap, clap clap clap*

VA: Such rude fans here…

Martin Robertson: Listen, you people can keep telling me to shut the fuck up, but I’m the one with the microphone standing here on the stage, and you’re the ones that will run up to the merchandise table as soon as I’m done here, while some craptastic match is taking place, and buy my t-shirt… Like this fat boy right here…

(Martin walks over to the right edge of the stage, pointing down at a fan while does happen to be fairly large…)

Martin Robertson: This guy will be the first in line to buy my shirt, but I hate to break it to you… The only way you’re getting my shirt on is of you buy two of them and sew them together!

(The crowd continues to boo…)

Martin Robertson: What do you weigh, big boy… Three hundred fat?

MM: He’s out of control, Vince…

VA: He may have a point, Malone. Let him finish…

Martin Robertson: I’d say Stacy would let you be a referee here, but I don’t think you can lift your cattle arm up and down enough to make a three count! Which, actually, might make you the most competent referee around here! Just sit there and stare longingly at Alyssa while I speak, because A, I know you don’t understand anything I’m saying with your Albany High third grade education… And B, you’ll never see anyone this beautiful that close to your fat face ever again!

VA: Well, see, Malone…

(The crowd, naturally here at the NYSWF arena, has started another chant…)

“She’s a whore!”

(Alyssa flips off the crowd as Martin makes his way back to the center of the entrance ramp..)

Martin Robertson: Here’s the bottom line, Stacy… You’re incompetent referees that don’t want to work the asylum match are the same ones that cost me MY Network championship in Sydney! I had that match won, and you’re blind ref couldn’t pick his head up to see my foot was on the ropes!

(Martin points up towards the big screen without even turning around to look at it himself, and the video replays the end of the match, highlighting the fact that Martin did indeed get his foot on the ropes before referee Juan Cardillo’s hand hit the mat for the third time…)

Stacy Vandervort: Martin…

Martin Robertson: Shut it, Stacy. I’m speaking, you listen. Because I don’t care what you have to say anymore. I’m the Youth King around here, and Alyssa is the COO, so what we have to say holds a lot more weight than whatever comes out of that cum dumpster you call a mouth!

MM: Oh my God…

Martin Robertson: You’re out here trying to fix all of your mistakes from Sydney… And there were a lot of them… so I’m going to tell you how you’re going to fix mine. You’re going to add me to the main event tonight…

MM: What?

Martin Robertson: … And it’s going to become a five-way match inside the Asylum for the EWA World Heavyweight Championship…


Martin Robertson: … Or Alyssa here… You know, your boss… Will be firing you inside the middle of that ring… TONIGHT!


VA: It’s about time someone took charge around here!

Stacy Vandervort: Martin, It’s not that sim…

Martin Robertson: One hour, Stacy. You’ve got one hour to determine your own fate. Either you add me to the main event, or you’ll find yourself sitting back in that double wide with the new wheelchair ramp addition you just put on so Kage can wheel himself out to the tombstone on the property where his career was buried!

(Martin drops the mic on the ramp as “Hail to the King” begins to play once again. Robertson raises his arms in the air for a moment before pointing back towards Stacy, yelling at her “ONE HOUR!” as Stacy slow places her mic down on the ring mat, shocked at what just happened…)

VA: That’s how a benevolent king rules, Malone!

MM: Benevolent? He just threatened to have Alyssa fire Stacy if she doesn’t add him to the main event!

VA: Exactly! He’s giving her an opportunity to correct her wrongs, just like all of the great, benevolent Kings of the past did, like King Richard the third…

MM: … who basically murdered almost his entire family!

VA: They were all probably assholes and deserved it!

MM: What a way to kick off Battlelines here, ladies and gentlemen. As the Asylum raises back to the rafters and the Executive Assistant leaves the ring…let’s get tonight’s action underway with our opening contest!


NR: This match is scheduled for one fall!



The house lights go out as the crowd claps along to Dorothy’s bluesy “After Midnight,” and a single teal spotlight hits the entrance ramp. The video screen shows a stylized image of a diamond, and as the name “LOU” is signed across it in teal calligraphy, the Deathmatch Debutante herself steps out! In a Diamond Lou T-shirt with the sleeves, neck, and midriff cut off, Daisy Dukes, black fishnets and black boots, she raises her hands up in a diamond sign, and just as the chorus kicks in, she swings her arms down, teal pyro blasting from the center to the ends of the stage! Lou swaggers to the ring, swaying her hips to the beat of the song, pointing and slapping hands with fans!

NR: Introducing first, from Forest Park, AL, weighing in at 121 lbs, the Deathmatch Debutante, LOU!

MM: Lou pulled out one hell of a victory at Live From Sydney, taking down one of the most violent men ever to set foot in an EWA ring, Vince. And I have to say, that match was a little hard to watch.

VA: I dunno about hard to watch, Malone, I liked her little Sailor Scout dress. But it was definitely brutal, no doubt about that.

MM: Her opponent tonight, though, is no stranger to brutality. And without the option of weapons, does Lou really have what it takes to defeat the Megastar?

VA: This match would’ve been better served on Schadenfreude.com than here, Malone.

She slides into the ring, heading for the side of the ring facing the hardcam, pointing to the crowd as she steps on the bottom and middle ropes, and finally raising her hands into a diamond shape once more, before jumping back to the mat and swinging her arms back again! She heads to the corner, swinging her legs up onto the top rope and laying across the corner, waiting for the match to start. Rick Iley comes to check her for foreign objects, and she holds the waistband of her shorts out with her thumb, pointing inside.

Lou: You wanna look?

Iley backs off, slightly disturbed, as Lou cackles, until the arena lights dim. As the opening chords of “Sieben” by Subway to Sally blare over the arena’s loudspeakers, the fans jump to their feet amidst a chorus of cheers as the video screens crackles to life with a revolving pair of gold letters: A.G. Lou starts fanning her face in the corner like a fangirl.

NR: And her opponent, from Eberswalde, Germany, weighing in at 215 lbs, AZRAEL GOEREN!
A massive red and gold pyro explosion goes off at the top of the ramp and rattles the arena as the curtain is pulled back and Azrael Goeren calmly makes his way out to greet the EWA faithful.

MM: It’s good to see Goeren after the vicious back and forth he had with Donovan King in Sydney, Vince.

VA: Good? It’s never good to see this Eurotrash sleaze peddler. King was trying to make the world a better place by removing this parasite, but he just refuses to go away.

MM: And you’re not at all swayed by your opinions on Grace Goe–

VA: Hallowed be her name, my God Queen, please forgive this man, for he knows not what heresy he speaketh of.

MM: Don’t adjust your computer screens, folks, that’s just your eyes involuntarily rolling.

Collected and calm, Azrael slaps hands with a few fans along the ramp before rolling under the bottom rope and into the ring.

After stretching out his arms in the corner of the ring for a few moments, he climbs to the second turnbuckle and holds his arms out high over his head with a slight smirk, nodding out to the fans before bouncing back down to the mat.

Iley comes to Goeren to check for weapons, and Goeren grabs the crotch of his disturbingly tight pants.

Azrael Goeren: Mein Schwanz is the only weapon I need, Herr Iley.

Lou does some more overdramatic fanning with her hand at that comment, and Iley calls for the bell! Lou circles Goeren, a giddy smile on her face, and charges in, but gets dropped with an arm drag! Lou rolls to her feet, turning around into a lockup, and Goeren handily pushes Lou into the corner! Iley warns him to let off, and Goeren backs off, but he charges back forward with a shoulder– no! Lou slings over the top rope as Goeren’s shoulder meets the steel!

Lou slings herself back over the top rope, driving her knees into Goeren’s back from above! Lou rolls to the mat as Goeren collapses onto the second rope, and she rolls under the bottom rope again! She backs up, charging down the apron, where Goeren’s head is waiting next to the steel post! She dives with a dropkick– Goeren moves his head, and Lou’s feet hit the ring post! She drops to the apron on her back, falling off and to the floor!

VA: What the hell was she thinking, Malone?!

MM: Probably that if she hit that dropkick, she might have ended this match already!

VA: She might’ve ended it now anyway!

Lou lays on the floor as Iley starts the count, holding her back and kicking her feet! Goeren shakes out the cobwebs, sliding out of the ring and pulling her up! 1! 2! Goeren hoists her up, dropping her hard on his knee with a backbreaker! 3! 4! Goeren tosses Lou into the ring steps, and Lou hits with a clang, flipping over the top of the steps and landing on the floor! 5! 6!

MM: It looks like Lou might’ve hit her head on the steps there, Vince!

VA: She’s so hot when she’s bleeding.

MM: You have issues, man.

VA: Several!

Goeren calmly walks to the other side of the ring, pulling Lou up and rolling her under the bottom rope, following right behind! He makes a cover!












THR– kickout!

Goeren gets to his feet as Lou rolls over onto her hands and knees! Azrael grabs her head– Lou LEAPS up with a headbutt to Goeren’s face! Goeren stumbles back, and Lou shakes it off, flinging blood everywhere! She turns around, almost like she isn’t sure where she is, and Goeren steps forward– right into a Lou Pele kick! Goeren stumbles back again, into the ropes! Lou runs at him to get some momentum, before whipping him to the corner! Goeren crashes into the turnbuckles, and Lou is right behind him, crashing into him with a jumping double knee to the chest! Goeren collapses to a sitting position, and Lou’s face lights up! She runs like lightning to the other side, before FLYING across the ring and landing with a bronco buster, luridly grinding her hips into Goeren’s face, complete with over the top moans! The crowd roars as she tenses up, closing her eyes and screaming orgasmically, and finally leaps down, tousling his hair!

Lou: Was it good for you?

She takes a couple of steps back, before charging in– no! Goeren rushes to his feet, cracking Lou in the face with a majestic European uppercut that levels her! As Lou hits the mat, Goeren takes a hand, exaggeratedly wiping his mouth! He looks over at Rick Iley, wiping his hand on the referee’s shirt! He pulls Lou to her feet, hooking her with a German suplex, then another, and finally tossing her back with a third that sends her halfway across the ring! Lou rolls over onto her front, her hand pressed against her shoulders and neck!

VA: She can’t have much more left, Malone!

The Megastar rolls her over, covering her!












THR– kickout!

Goeren gets to his feet, and Lou tries to crawl toward the ropes!

Take my hand through the flame
I’m a slave to your games

Goeren turns to the entrance ramp as “Sucker For Pain” starts to play, but there’s no Donovan King! Lou gets to her feet as Goeren looks over the top rope, but King doesn’t show! Lou spins Goeren around– Diamond Cutter! No! Goeren unceremoniously tosses her to the mat! The music continues, but Goeren ignores it completely! Lou starts to stand– BLITZKRIEG! Lou drops like a stone! The crowd starts to boo loudly, as Donovan King finally stands on the stage! Goeren turns around to see him staring at the ring… and ignores it, dropping for a cover!












THREE! Lou kicks out, but not in time!

NR: Here is your winner, AZRAEL GOEREN!

King stares down the entrance ramp, fuming, as Iley raises Goeren’s hand!

MM: It looks like Donovan King thought just his presence would be enough to throw Goeren off his game, but he pulls out the victory tonight!

VA: Now I DEFINITELY think this should’ve been a Schadenfreude.com video, Malone. The Megashit gets the win over the Deathmatch Debutante? A disgrace is what that is.


(In the parking area of the NYSWF Memorial Arena we see a car pull up, the camera stays low as we see the driver step out, dressed in black jeans and sneakers. They head into the arena with the camera still following their feet. The camera goes behind this person and we see their wearing a hoodie with the hood up so we can’t see their head. As this person walks down a corridor people see this hooded person and give them a smile, or say hi! Obviously, this person is familiar to them all.

Our mystery person heads straight to a room with Memorial Room above it and they walk in. Once in there we see posters of events and former stars of the NYSWF. Title belts adorn the walls and we see a woman looking at one of the belts. We can’t see her face but we see she has long blonde hair, a slim figure and her legs…. WOW! She’s got legs for days!

Our mystery person walks up to her, placing their hand on her shoulder and she turns and looks…. Wait a minute, now we see her face, her smile, so radiant, she’s amazing, some of the crowd give a cheer, like they know who she is. She gives our mystery person a kiss on the cheek, even though we still can’t see who this is. She then looks back at this particular title belt, we do too… it’s the NYSWF Junior Heavyweight Title.

The mystery person pulls back their hood… It’s only John Iley!!! And we hear the crowd give a decent pop for the Englishman!

It’s making sense now… John Iley was the longest reigning (and last) NYSWF Junior Heavyweight Champion, so that must mean the woman he’s with is Lisa Hawks!!! His former girlfriend and valet. We see an 8×10 of John next to the title, dressed in his wrestling gear with the belt around his waist.

John and Lisa get close and John puts his arm around her.)

Lisa Hawks: Welcome home, champ

(John smiles and strokes Lisa’s arm.)

John Iley: Yeah, I’m home! Feels good too! I never thought this would ever happen!

(John and Lisa both give a little laugh as John looks at his former love.)

John Iley: How you been?

Lisa Hawks: I’m doing good, living out in LA now working behind the scenes for a movie company. I already know how you’re doing! Mr Media!

(John just smirks.)

John Iley: Yeah the media stuff is ok! Though I’d rather be out there in the ring! But are you ready for our seats? I hear we’re being given one of the executive boxes for tonight!

Lisa Hawks: Sure, it’s going to be good to catch up too!

John Iley: Too right, you’ll have to meet Rick too after the show (He leans in slightly and lowers his voice) I think he had a bit of a crush on you too back in the day!

(Lisa giggles and goes red.)

Lisa Hawks: Well, I hope he isn’t too disappointed meeting now instead of then!

John Iley: Hey, you’re still beautiful, I just wish things could have worked out better for us back then!

Lisa Hawks: I know, but hey, we’re here, we’ve got time to catch up, and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now!

(John smiles back, offers his arm to Lisa, she takes it and they walk off arm in arm together to check out the action here in the EWA at the NYSWF Arena….)

(A Crystal White 2017 Escalade rolls up into the scene. The cameraman doesn’t need to zoom in, because he is a man of action and walks over to greet the passenger as the back door opens. Out steps the immaculately dressed Kevin Oppenheimer. The distinguished and respected insignia of the World Wide Bushido Buntai emblazen on his jacket, which Oppy straightens after getting slightly disheveled on the drive over. He winks with a smirk as he shuts the door behind him, then glances back. A second identical Escalade rolls up.)

Kevin Oppenheimer: Still sexy as hell, but you knew that, righ’?

(From off-screen, backstage interviewer Allison Haines shows up with a microphone in hand.)

Allison Haines: Great, there’s already a cameraman here. Kevin Oppenheimer, perhaps you could shed a little light on a subject for me with respect to the approach taken by the World Wide Bushido Buntai this month with respect to Katsuro Yoshida’s opponent tonight, Philip Donovan… or lack of an approach, as it were, because we haven’t heard anything from you since…

Kevin Oppenheimer: Since Buck Dresden pinned the ol’ shoulders to the mat? That what you were gonna say, love? Right… tell me, what’s your other job?

(Allison looks a bit confused.)

Allison Haines: Uh, this is my job. THIS. Getting interviews with EWA talent backstage…

Kevin Oppenheimer: Right… you have one job. ONE. One way of making money… unless you do some side hustle… What’s your MyFreeCam name? Perhaps Chaturbate?!

(Allison scoffs, but then Katsuro Yoshida steps up.)

Katsuro Yoshida: That’s enough, Kevin. Miss Haines used to have a relationship with a member of our organization back when he was on this roster, behind the scenes, so let’s show her the respect she deserves.

(Allison looks a bit confused.)

Allison Haines: Uh, I’m not quite sure who you’re refer-…

(Katsuro holds up his hand and waves off her need to continue.)

Katsuro Yoshida: It’s alright, we don’t need to go down the route any further. Because the point that Kevin Oppenheimer should have been making is that, as key individuals in a global enterprise with many moving parts, sometimes our schedules get overloaded.

Allison Haines: So you’re saying you don’t have time for competitors like Philip Donovan? Overlooking competitors isn’t a great way to start here in EWA.

Kevin Oppenheimer: Oi!

Katsuro Yoshida: That’s not our message, not in the least. Mr. Donovan has quite the history in EWA, and as a veteran, he is quite capable of presenting a challenge in tonight’s match. Be certain, I am prepared for him.

Kevin Oppenheimer: Yeah, I personally made certain of that!

Allison Haines: It’s a bit difficult to see that when we don’t get a sense of your training from videos you record and deliver to the EWA, namely because in October, there haven’t been any!

Katsuro Yoshida: That’s quite right, and no, we don’t intend to make that a habit, nor do we intend to cut short our stay here. There is still plenty left to do, and that starts tonight.

(Turning his attention from the female interviewer, Katsuro looks directly into the camera to address his opponent.)

Katsuro Yoshida: Mr. Donovan, the Counter-Culturist, my apologies for not being able to focus more attention in the days and weeks leading up to tonight’s match. Be certain, I prepared, but as you gave us your thoughts on facing me, I should have done you the service of explaining how I view you. With respectful indifference.

Allison Haines: Any chance you can explain what you mean by that? Because from where I’m standing, that’s potentially an oxymoron!

Katsuro Yoshida: Perhaps from your American way of understanding things, and your lack of comprehension on the reasons World Wide Bushido Buntai is here, you might not think it’s possible for me to respectfully be indifferent towards this match. Or maybe it’s a lack of intelligence. Either way, it’s simple.

Kevin Oppenheimer: Philly Dono, this is Simon Simple, innit?! Have you got some skills? Yeah, aight, we know that. We also know ‘bout your accomplishments aroun’ ‘ere, modest as they are. But did you have your ears turned on when we’ve been makin’ appearances leadin’ up to this point? Apparen’ly some of you ain’ ‘eard what we’re ‘ere for, and that’s fine, we knews that playin’ to the ‘Murican Audience that a lot of ‘em ain’ gonna understand it even when we explain it simple in The Queen’s English, either ‘cause most of ‘em too LAZY to pay enough attention – which is why American Educational Standards are going down because they don’ wanna leave no child behind none so they let all of ‘em pass up through to the grades without learnin’ nuffin’ and then they end up with people who voted for dictators like Trump or scam artists like ‘illary Clinton… Willful ignorance, the lot of ‘em… they should be begging their Congress for an Amendment to get the power to Vote No Confidence.

Allison Haines: I’m sorry, but what does the American Political system and current state of affairs there have to do with Philip Donovan?

Katsuro Yoshida: If I may continue to explain, we’re not here to simply defeat every opponent and climb some non-existent ladder and beg to get opportunities like the majority of the roster who aren’t part of some legacy elite club of competitors who have been loyal to the company from the beginning or are the progeny of the big names who helped keep EWA afloat in its early years. We’re not here to scout the “Legacies” or their children. We’re here to find the very best talent, those who are scrapping for opportunities while being underappreciated for their talent, and we’re seeking the best of those individuals, and we’re going to add to our organization.

Allison Haines: Wait, are you saying you’re looking for talent to take back to Japan with you to fight in another organization?! Because if you’re only on this roster as a means to recruit away the talented roster members with promises of title shots elsewhere…

Katsuro Yoshida: Miss Haines, don’t misunderstand. Take the evidence that is right in front of you, which we have presented and explained in the three months we have been rostered members of the EWA. Do your research, seek to understand how the World Wide Bushido Buntai works, and that will calm the concern you just expressed.

Kevin Oppenheimer: Look, we got time runnin’ out, and we got some people to visit backstage – WITHOUT CAMERA CREWS – before the night is over, and we’ve got a match to be ready for – WHICH WE INTEND TO WIN EVEN THOUGH NO ONE WATCHED KATSURO LIFTING WEIGHTS OR SPARRING “During the month of October”…

Katsuro Yoshida: Mr. Donovan, you liken me to a fruit salesman begging people to be customers, but we’re not. What we have to offer, we only intend to sell to those who are deserving. Whether you understand and appreciate what The World Wide Bushido Buntai has to offer or not, it makes no difference. You are not the type of young and hungry talent we seek.

Kevin Oppenheimer: Quite the opposite, in fact.

Katsuro Yoshida: Mr. Donovan, there is nothing wrong with being a talented, seasoned veteran who hopes for one more opportunity at cashing in on a legacy long since passed you by. I have seen it in those I have faced all over the world at times. Someday, perhaps I will be in that mold as well. And that is not to say you will certainly lose to me tonight. Just as Buck Dresden did last month, you might defeat me here tonight. You have the talent, and it may come to pass. But beating me isn’t the ticket to getting on the W.W.B.B. payroll. You must prove that you are the right type of competitor, and from what I’ve seen, you are quite not what we’re looking for, so this fruit? It is not meant for you. That analogy was just as incorrect as all of the other things you said. We do know who you are and about your history here, we aren’t seeking to take over EWA – the World Wide Bushido Buntai is, in fact, NOT trying to instill a new World Order here.

Allison Haines: What about the claims Philip Donovan made about you trying to enact change in EWA. There have been statements you’ve made that do give credence to that claim.

Katsuro Yoshida: The change will come to EWA as the talent structure changes. As we find the talented individuals who deserve our backing, and help them attain the brass rings which have been held beyond their grasp.

Allison Haines: So, in some respects, this is an attempted takeover.

Katsuro Yoshida: Miss Haines, again, you fail to understand. We have no more time to waste explaining it to you, or to a self-professed Clown Prince, what the World Wide Bushido Buntai is here to do, or whom its initial sights are on, or how that significantly differs from a takeover attempt. Now, if you’ll excuse us.

Kevin Oppenheimer: See you online tonight, ‘roun’ 1 in the AM? Send me a note about which cam site you’re on.

(As Allison scoffs once more at his crass inference that Allison Haines might be an online sex worker, Oppy gives a smirk and a wink and then follows after Katsuro Yoshida, who has already walked off with their entourage in tow. Fade to ringside.)

MM: Still to come, the Asylum returns in this rematch from Live From Sydney. Grace Goeren, Sahara, Michael Draven, and NOTHING, inside the unforgiving structure, in NOTHING’s hometown!

VA: It’s not a rematch, Malone! Angry Panda got shafted!

MM: Do you think that being here in the NYSWF Memorial Arena will work in NOTHING’s favor, Vince?

VA: No, don’t you no-sell my Angry Panda reference! Say it, Malone! Say he got screwed!

MM: I will do no–

(The lights cut out, and a single white spotlight hits the entranceway, before suddenly taking the shape of a horned skull. The bassline and thumping percussion of “Heaven Knows” starts to play, and the crowd begins to boo.)

MM: Looks like the new Tag Team Champions are here, Vince.

VA: Good! But this conversation isn’t over!

(The spotlight widens out, and in the bright white light we can see the trio standing on the entrance ramp. Minxy Jones and Lágrima stand in front with their heads down, Minxy with her hands on her hips and one half of the World Heavyweight Tag Team Championships on her waist, a red hourglass drawn on the faceplate, and Lágrima with her face down into the faceplate of the other half. Santa Muerte takes up the rear, also with her head down, in the trademark robe. As the chorus kicks in, all three raise their heads, and we can see they’ve changed their appearance a bit. Minxy is wearing her black-on-black mask, Lágrima has her black skull with bloody tears, and Santa Muerte’s facepaint is a blood-red Day of the Dead skull pattern. Lágrima throws the belt over her shoulder, and she and Minxy walk to the ring, a much slower pace than their usual sprint. Santa Muerte takes up the rear, holding her bouquet of white roses, seeming to glide to the ring.)

MM: Santa Muerte scheduled to face Nikki Caldwell and Alice here in a few minutes, but it looks like she’s not showing up without reinforcements.

VA: If you were across the ring from Alice, would you want to face her without backup?

MM: Well, Vince, Alice doesn’t really have a size advantage over Santa Muerte, but still… no, no I wouldn’t.

(Minxy and Lágrima walk around opposite sides of the ring, with Minxy even threatening to hit a catcaller in the front row. Lágrima hops onto the apron, looking out over the audience with disgust in her eyes, before stepping over the middle rope and into the ring. Minxy scoops up a pair of microphones before sliding into the ring herself, and Santa Muerte languidly climbs the ring steps, stepping over the second rope and into the ring. She immediately stands in the middle of the ring, pulling a pair of white roses out of her bouquet, kissing the flowers, and dropping them to the mat. Minxy hands a mic to Lágrima as the music stops. The boos don’t.)

Lágrima: Oh please, listen to you people crying for a tag team thrown together at the last minute, that lucked into the belts and somehow managed to break the record for second-longest championship reign. As if anything those three did was remotely entertaining. Hell, Nikki Caldwell has never won a match against any of the three of us.

(The boos get louder, but Lágrima just speaks louder, too.)

Lágrima: Do you know why that is? Not to take anything away from Nikki Caldwell, I’m sure she’ll be a great asset to the company someday, but it’s because she lashed her ship to that goddamn trainwreck that is Mojave and Josh Kaine. One gets to watch his sister ascend to the heights he can only dream of, and the other doesn’t have enough self-control to not think with his dick. The truth of the matter is that they’re not fucking championship material. The fact that they ever held these belts is a disgrace, and the fact that they held them for 159 days? That absolutely disgusts me.

But really, I could say the same about, well, just about everyone in the tag division in the EWA. Not just now, but ever. For a long time, tag team wrestling has been relegated to the undercard, a place where those people who just can’t fucking hack it in the singles world go to try to shine. And when I look at the history of these belts? That’s always been the case here. Crazy Canuck and the Pessimist? The former longest championship reign record holders, Public Enemy? Those racist caricatures Harlem Heat who held the belts four goddamn times?

(The crowd is absolutely enraged now, but Lágrima doesn’t stop.)

Lágrima: That ends here. Now that the belts are around our waists, where they belong. We made the tag division in this organization. Without us, there wouldn’t be a tag division. And the absolute truth is that these belts are nothing when they’re not in our hands.

Minxy Jones: But that really doesn’t take it far enough, does it? The only time any of the belts in this company have been relevant have been when a woman was holding them. Did anyone care about the Combat Title when it was yet another accolade that thankfully retired douchecanoe Alexander Haven politicked his way into? Has anyone really given half a shit about William West’s reign so far? He hasn’t even taken Sahara’s name off of the belt yet. If that doesn’t tell you everything, I don’t know what will.

And now Maggie, bless her heart, is trying to restore the luster of the Network title after a, frankly, disastrous reign by well-known fuckface Cronos Diamante. And she’ll probably do a better job with that belt than her boyfriend… husband… whatever the fuck their relationship is, will do with the World Championship, because let’s be honest, that belt last really meant something when it was Grace Goeren holding it.

(The crowd starts to throw trash toward the ring, but it doesn’t stop Minxy’s rant.)

Minxy Jones: Oh, does that upset you? Does the idea of a woman in a position of power make you mad? Fucking barbarians. That’s the problem with this industry in general. So many meatheaded, testosterone-addled “alpha males” thinking they’re the best thing since the invention of vibrators. Somebody like Josh Kaine can go around turning women into homewreckers, and not only does he think he can just get away with it, but you braindead animals cheer him. Sounds like someone else we know, doesn’t it, Lágrima?

Lágrima: Oh, you mean like Jared Walsh?

(The crowd pops a little for him, but mostly continues to boo.)

Lágrima: Right, of course, you guys love that scumbag. And why wouldn’t you love a man who’s living every “nice guy’s” fantasy? I’ve known Jared Walsh for almost my entire life, and let me tell you, that dickhead had it coming.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that this predator makes his living off of exploiting women in one business, he has to come here, and try to use my name, our names, to further his own need for attention. And when the time comes for us to do what we fucking do best, he has to insert himself into the mix, and then take all the fucking credit. Fuck that. The Vice Squad does not stand for that kind of condescending bullshit.

In fact, just holding on to the name “Vice” makes me sick to my goddamn stomach.

Minxy Jones: And we’re all in agreement on that. We’re done carrying the name of a man who treats women like a commodity to be marketed, damsels in distress who need protecting. Fuck Jared Walsh, and fuck every single one of you who worship him.

Lágrima: We don’t fight for Vice anymore. We fight for the Nikki Caldwells of the world, stuck playing second-fiddle to men who don’t fucking deserve it. We fight for the people who can’t or won’t fight the patriarchal bullshit in this business, whether for lack of ability or fear of retribution. We fight for all of the women in the world who can’t fight for themselves.

Minxy Jones: We are the Erinyes. We are divine retribution.

Lágrima: Because hell hath no fury…

Minxy Jones: …like us.

(Lágrima and Minxy roll out of the ring, as Santa Muerte takes off her robe, handing it down to them on the outside. Nikki Rogers is in the ring.)

NR: This contest is scheduled for one fall, and is a triple threat match! Already in the ring, from Mexico City, Mexico, weighing in at 198 lbs, SANTA MUERTE!

MM: Some extremely strong words from the team formerly known as the Vice Squad, the Erinyes. I don’t know how to feel about this new direction.

VA: It’s about time someone stood up for the ladies of the world!

MM: I never knew you to be such a feminist, Vince.

VA: I’m whatever those hot bitches want me to be, Malone.



NR: Her opponent, from Los Angeles, CA, weighing in at 146 lbs, the Amazon, NIKKI CALDWELL!

A scream followed immediately by machine-gun percussion of Skylar Grey’s “Wreak Havoc” shocks the arena, gold gerb-mine pyro erupting from the stage in punctuation as the fans rise to their feet in excitement. Nikki Caldwell walks onto the stage under a burst of green and red lights.


Her face is streaked with black warpaint, the large scale-armor of Sinnocence’s heirloom black-and-red Doom Jacket juts from her shoulders. She pauses at the top of the ramp with her feet braced and her arms slightly spread at her sides, eyes flickering over the crowd and then focusing intensely on the ring, and particularly on the face of Santa Muerte.


VA: It’s gotta be tough to be Nikki Caldwell, on the losing side of the match in Sydney, and now facing down two far superior athletes tonight.

MM: Hey, Caldwell had her title stolen at Live From Sydney, Ashe, no matter how the Erinyes want to spin it. We all saw what happened.

VA: Yeah, they got pinned in the middle of the ring, all three of ‘em!

MM: After Jared Walsh cracked them with chairs! And Sinnocence, too!

VA: Hey, Jared got crushed by the Erinyes, remember!

MM: That was after the match!

VA: I know, I just like talking about it.

Nikki runs down the ring and three quarters of the way around it, past Minxy and Lágrima, sliding into the ring and rolling to her feet in one motion. She steps up on the bottom and center ropes, raising one fist and yelling out a warcry. The fans answer her back with a cheer of their own, and after letting them have their due, she steps down and sheds her jacket to prepare for the fight. She stands opposite Santa Muerte’s corner, the two watching each other uneasily, as Sister Sin’s “Chaos Royale” begins.

VA: Not that any of it matters, Malone, because this woman is going to destroy both of them tonight.

NR: Finally, from Brooklyn, NY, weighing in at 205 lbs, ALICE!

Staggering out from behind the curtains is the unstable frame of Alice, her head down and her long stringy hair sticking to her face. She quickly rushes to the ring without any acknowledgement towards the crowd, acting as if they don’t even exist to her.

MM: You might be right, Vince… the tag division might be a little smaller after tonight.

VA: No Trios matches in the future for these two teams. I guarantee it.

She rolls underneath the bottom rope and curls up in the corner, bringing her knees to her chest as she hugs them tightly against her body. Seemingly in a conversation with an unseen partner, she whispers something indiscernible for a few seconds before she pulls herself up to her feet, her head still down and not looking at anyone else in the ring. She nods her head a few times and then finally turns around, bringing her large fists up and getting into a fighting stance. Nikki and Santa Muerte flit their eyes back and forth between each other and Alice, as Danny Smith calls for the bell.

Immediately, the two rivals rush at Alice, both throwing kicks into her midsection! Alice staggers into the corner under the onslaught, and Santa Muerte and Caldwell each grab the top rope, driving Alice down with more boots to the gut! Both stop, looking across at each other, before both rushing at the corner– no! Alice, with a guttural scream, drops both of them with a double clothesline! Santa Muerte rolls out of the ring, but Caldwell isn’t so lucky!

Alice pulls Caldwell to her feet by the hair, CRUSHING her with a massive headbutt! Caldwell flops to the mat, and Alice deadlifts her into a massive powerslam! Alice covers!








TW– Santa Muerte pulls her off by her leg from the outside!

VA: What are you doing?! Don’t get her attention!

MM: But then she’ll lose the match!

VA: I mean, yeah, but at least she’ll be alive!

Alice gets up, turning around to face Santa Muerte on the outside! She leans over the top rope, shouting down at her, and Santa Muerte cracks her in the face with a loud SLAP! Alice barely registers the actual hit, but her eyes go wide with rage! She steps through the ropes, dropping to the floor, and charges after a running Santa Muerte! She follows her around the ring– and right into a double superkick from Minxy and Lágrima! Alice drops to the mat, and the champions start to drive their boots into her! Lágrima lands a standing moonsault, and Minxy hits one as soon as she stands up!

Santa Muerte looks on, with a twisted smile on her face, before she gets back up on the apron– Nikki Caldwell with a massive spear through the ropes! Both women crash to the floor in a heap, but Caldwell is the first up! She grabs Santa Muerte by her ponytail, pulling her to her feet, and whipping her hard into the ring steps! The other two Erinyes continue to work over Alice, as Caldwell runs across to the other side, leaping off the ring steps with a springboard roundhouse that catches Santa Muerte as soon as she stands up!

MM: The Erinyes keeping Alice occupied, but at what cost to their teammate?

VA: Santa Muerte’s gotten out of worse scrapes than this, Malone!

Caldwell rolls Santa Muerte back into the ring, hopping up onto the apron, and crushing her with a slingshot shoulder drop! Caldwell hops up, letting out a war cry!

On the outside, the Erinyes continue their assault, but Alice is pushing through! Minxy and Lágrima’s eyes go wide as Alice gets to her feet, and wraps a hand around each of their throats!

Caldwell turns around, but Santa Muerte’s back up, and she surprises Caldwell with a swinging neckbreaker! Santa Muerte blows her the kiss of death, bringing her strong leg back!

Minxy thumbs Alice in the eye, and she drops the other two! Lágrima looks to the ring, where Santa Muerte is ready to strike, and turns back to Alice, landing a massive roundhouse, but Alice shrugs it off!

Santa Muerte hits the Naja de Sangre– Caldwell dodged! Santa Muerte over-rotates, and Nikki spins her back around, with a blood-curdling scream, dropping her with the I Of the Storm!

VA: WHAT?! NO! Get in there, ladies!

MM: I think they have bigger things to worry about!

Lágrima and Minxy turn to the ring in shock, but Alice is right there! She grabs them by their throats again, as Caldwell covers!




ONE! Alice lifts BOTH of them up in chokeslams, dropping them on the floor!




TWO! She turns to the ring as Danny Smith raises his hand! Alice dives under the top rope!





MM: She’s too late, Vince!

VA: To win the match, sure, but not to cause some damage!

NR: Here is your winner, NIKKI CALDWELL!

VA: What good’s a win to a corpse, Malone?!

Nikki gets to her feet, but just in time to get CRUSHED by Alice and the Decapitator! Caldwell lands on Santa Muerte, rolling off! Josh Kaine and Mojave run out from the back, as Caldwell rolls out of the ring, and Alice is still enraged! Santa Muerte hasn’t even moved since getting dropped by Caldwell, but Alice wraps her hands around her throat, hoisting her up into the air and right back down with Grace Under Fire! Santa Muerte’s body lands on the mat in a heap, and Cerberus starts to backpedal down the ramp away from the dangerous Alice!

The Erinyes get to their feet as Alice scoops Santa Muerte up over her head in a guerrilla press! Minxy and Lágrima look to the ring just in time for Alice to throw their partner at them!

VA: Good Grace, she’s strong, Malone!

MM: They might be the champions, Vince, but I don’t think anyone here wants to be in the Erinyes’ position!

Alice rages down at the champions as Danny Smith tries to back her down!


(The scene fades into Allison Haines in front of an EWA logo, Jester Smiles standing directly next to her. Jester has his hands clasped and is rolling his wrists and neck, getting stretched and loose for his match later.)

Allison Haines: I am backstage with Jester Smiles who will be facing Maggie McIntyre for the EWA Network Championship later on tonight. Jester, in between shows, you’ve been on a bit of a press tour. Do you think your increased traveling will create any sort of disadvantage tonight?

(Jester laughs, but he continues doing his warm ups.)

Jester Smiles: Please, Allison, me being a shitty wrestler is what will create a disadvantage.

(Jester turns his head and sticks his tongue out playfully at Allison.)

Jester Smiles: Nah, all kidding aside, I am in tippy top shape for this match tonight! Maggie McIntyre is a game opponent who deserves nothing more than me at my best, so that is exactly what she is going to get! I mean, anyone who can tear through the House of HATE like that woman is-

(Jester suddenly stops, looking off camera.)

Jester Smiles: Well…hello sorta tall, dark, and spooky…

(Indrid Calder adjusts the lapels of his three-piece suit jacket before entering the frame. The Stranger is bedecked in charcoal gray—as per the usual—and his expression if one of curious bemusement.)

Indrid Calder: Haven’t had the pleasure, Mister Smiles. A fitting name for you, if you don’t mind me saying. You’re so jovial. Carefree. Always willing to share a joke or a laugh. It’s like you’re a walking smile in the EWA locker room…

(Calder’s knife-blue eyes study Jester, scanning the man from the tip of his boots to the top of his skull.)

Indrid Calder: I’ve heard rumors that it wasn’t always so. Feel free to correct me if the rumors aren’t true, but I’ve heard you’re a man with a broken history. I’ve heard there are holes inside of you. Deep, dark, soul-sucking holes. You’ve crawled through the gutters of life, haven’t you? You’ve got the sort of soul…that tells a certain kind of story…

(The Spider King leans just a little closer.)

Indrid Calder: My favorite kind of story. The story of scraping and clawing and pulling desperately to escape the jaws of a tragic life. Was there a time when you tried to eat a bullet, Mister Smiles? Placed a barrel between your lips…tasted all that metal…and contemplated nonexistence? But something kept you from that void. Something brought you back. What was it?

(Jester scoffs, smiling still, but this time in a bitter fashion.)

Jester Smiles: Am I supposed to freak out now, Calder? Am I supposed to get all offended because you brought up my incredibly public suicide attempt? What’s your next move, Calder, the alcoholism? I’m an open-fucking-book, homie. I’m a fuck up at heart, no denial there.

(Jester steps a bit forward, not quite nose to nose with Calder, but pretty damn close.)

Jester Smiles: You want to know what brought me back? Nothing. Nothing brought me back, Calder. I willed myself to live. And then I willed myself to get clean. I willed myself back into the ring, I will myself into a successful business, and I willed myself into EWA.

And I willed my foot into the face of your giant and put his ass to sleep.

If you’d like a taste of that will, friend, you name the time and place.

Indrid Calder: So confrontational, Mister Smiles. You mistake my intentions. It’s not the desire to bestow offense that drives me. It’s the desire to KNOW you…not just the superficial layers, but the deepest parts of you. Those are the parts of a human spirit that matter.

(Indrid cocks his head ever so slightly to the left. There is no malice in his gaze. There is no warmth either. It is a gaze like two dead stars burning their last.)

Indrid Calder: I’m drawn to the damaged. The broken. The damned. The twisted, struggling, and misunderstood few. I see something in people like that. The fuck ups…happen to be my favorite. They’re men and women of my tribe. Will is a powerful thing. You ARE a man of will, aren’t you?

(The Spider King grins once more, nodding silently to himself.)

Indrid Calder: I saw what you did to Rayner. Not many would be capable of that. It impressed me. I noticed you. And when I notice you, I look for a seed…just a small, buried piece. I look in you now for the smallest seed of HATE…and I wonder what would encourage that seed to grow…

(Jester’s smile fades. He stares coldly at Indrid. Where Indrid has no malice, Jester clearly has plenty.)

Jester Smiles: Oh no, Calder, we’re not playing that game. Even when I’ve been the dickhead, I’ve been my own dickhead. You and your little fun club of nihilism doesn’t interest me. It offends me. You’re notion of HATE-

(Jester spits on the ground.)

Jester Smiles: It is disgusting to me. You and your cronies, they are an abomination, a cancer that needs to be cut out. One day, Indrid, one day that’ll be my goal. Whether you wait for me or force my hand to act sooner, one day my fists will be the surgical tools that remove the tumor that is you and any that think like you.

(Jester takes a step back, grinning again, playfully. Allison Haines stands back, simply there to document any further goings on.)

Jester Smiles: But, how rude of me, it was so nice meeting you Calder. This has been a fun little philosophical chat. If you want further…hmm…analysis of WILL, I think you’ll have your hands full with that tonight.

It’s a sort of WESTern ideal.

Anyway, I’ve got to go finish warming up. I’ve got a great match with your old friend. The Banshee No Longer of Hate. God, she’s likeable. I can see why you brought her in.

(The grin turns cold again.)

Jester Smiles: I can also see why she abandoned you. But, hey, that’s the thing about spiders, right? I mean, I’m no biologist, but the females tend to eat the males in spider society, right?

(Jester gives Calder a fake salute.)

Jester Smiles: Be seeing you, spooks. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you real soon, even.

(With that, Jester walks off camera. Calder merely offers that familiar thin smile.)

Indrid Calder: You’re not playing this game? But don’t you see, Mister Smiles? The game has already begun…

(Indrid calls to Jester as he departs.)

Indrid Calder: Good luck with The Banshee. You’ll need all that you can get with her. HATE will certainly be rooting for you, man of will…

(We fade on knife-blue eyes.)


NR: The following contest is set for one fall!

The crowd cheers, ready for some more EWA action.

Carpenter Brut’s “Le Perv” starts up, getting the people up and excited. A graphic appears on the big screen, with stylized font – WELCOME TO THE NEW WAVE. PHD

Neon green laser lights hum to life, scatter and strobe across the stage, with a single black light spotlight hitting center stage.

Philip Donovan stands in the center of it, arms stretched wide, his pink and blue shutter shades standing out from the rest of his outfit.

NR: Introducing first, from Newport Beach, California!

Donovan takes a fans phone out of their hand, as he feels it’s the opportune time for a selfie. He snaps the pic and grins at the fan as he hands the phone back.

NR: Weighing in at two hundred and twelve pounds….

Donovan perches himself on the top turnbuckle, looking out at the cheering crowd.

NR: Philiiiiiip Donnnnnnnnovaaaaaaaan!

VA: I’m pretty sure he just lifted someone’s iPhone.

MM: He gave it back!

VA: You say that. But that fan is probably wondering how he got a hold of someone’s Nokia.

MM: You’re an idiot.

The music shuts off and the lights come back to normal. Donovan leaps into the ring and begins to run the ropes.

The lights go out completely and a lone white spotlight shines down onto the stage. Red lights shine upwards, illuminating the fog as it rolls in. An older Japanese man walks out onto the stage wearing dark robes emblazoned with gold Japanese symbols outlined in burgundy, and a matching Toppai jingasa hat. He is followed by four women, each wearing similar robes. Though the man travels slowly towards the ring, the women stand at four equidistant spots around the circle formed by the spotlight.

VA: So Donovan is taking on four Geishas and an old guy?

MM: Why do I still get surprised at your level of disrespect?

Followed by his business partner and advocate, Kevin Oppenheimer, Katsuro Yoshida begins his methodical walk towards the ring.

NR: And his opponent, hailing from Miura, Japan! Weighing in at two hundred and sixty two pounds……Katsurrrrrrrro Yooooooooshiiiiiiida!

The four women begin to remove the robe from Yoshida, as he stands, like a statue, in the center of the ring.

VA: I didn’t think I’d want to be this guy, but to be undressed by four beautiful women has always been a dream of mine.

Oppenheimer smacks Yoshida across the chest twice, and the Japanese star has begun to fire up. The advocate exits the ring as the music shuts off, and the bell rings.

Yoshida starts off utilizing his power advantage, shoving off Donovan’s attempt at a takedown. A palm strike to the face shocks PhD, sending him staggering into the corner, where Yoshida then runs in for an avalanche!

Donovan gets out of the way at the last second, using his great speed to begin lighting the World Wide Bushido Buntai founder with a combination of strikes! Chops to the chest, and quick kicks designed to knot up the toughest hamstrings have Yoshida reeling, until Katsuro surprised Donovan with his own speed, taking the smaller man’s head off with a roundhouse kick!

MM: I think Donovan’s head just landed in Buffalo!

VA: Oh good. Maybe that will stop him running his mouth for a moment.

Yoshida would take control with his precise striking abilities, focusing mainly on the left shoulder and hamstrings of the quicker Donovan. The New Wave stays in the fight, however, using his right hand to try and halt Yoshida’s offense!

MM: The fists and feet of Katsuro Yoshida has been overwhelming for Philip Donovan, but PhD continues to try and stay in this!

VA: Maybe so, but that straight Yakuza kick just took him out of the game! There’s a pin!












Donovan rolls his bad shoulder up, wincing in pain as he does! Yoshida immediately throws Donovan back on the ground and covers again, putting pressure on the right shoulder!












Donovan again rolls out with the left shoulder, which was the plan of Yoshida.

Katsura slaps on a shoulder claw now, further weakening the injured joint!

MM: Excellent strategy by Yoshida here, focusing his energy and attacks on one area of Philip Donovan!

VA: Yeah, but even if that arm is limp, he still has to worry about The Flashback!

Donovan garners the support from the crowd at large, and begins to fight to his feet! The people in the NYSWF arena clap in unison, willing on The New Wave to get to his feet!

Donovan is up, Yoshida still clamped onto the shoulder. A quick elbow to the gut of the Japanese Warrior breaks it, however!

Donovan begins his comeback, using his speed to dizzy the larger man, eventually utilizing a superkick to take the bigger man to the ground! He goes for the cover!












Yoshida kicks out! Donovan runs the ropes, looking for a crossbody, but Yoshida catches him!

Katsura goes to swing Donovan around, but PhD was expecting it! He uses the momentum to swing into Yoshida’s shoulders!

MM: The Flashback!

Yoshida gets taken down on top of his head with the Posion Rana, and Donovan is quick to hook the leg!













The bell rings and Donovan pumps his fist in the air!

NR: Here is your winner, Philip Donnnnnnnnnoooooovaaaaaan!

MM: PhD is successful once again! A big win for the New Wave!

VA: And a tough loss for Yoshida!

Philip Donovan puts his shutter shades back on, celebrating with the fans at ringside as Oppenheimer checks on his client down in the ring.


MM: As we get ready for our next match, Vince, I think we sho…


MM: Oh no..


(Without much hesitation, as “Hail to the King” by Avenged Sevenfold starts to play over the arena’s speaker system, “Perfection” Martin Robertson and the Chief Operating Officer of the EWA, Alyssa Marie Haven, make their way out onto the entrance ramp and head straight for the ring.)

VA: It’s been an hour, Malone. Stacy better have an answer for Martin tonight, or she gonna be gone!

MM: I don’t see how Stacy can just arbitrarily put Martin into the main event, Vince.

VA: She can do almost anything she wants, Malone! Plus, he’s the king… he should be in ANY match that he wants!

(Martin sprints up the ring steps and onto the ring apron, holding the ropes open for Alyssa as she immediately heads over towards the ring announcer, demanding a microphone. The poor woman — she probably thought she was getting a minute break here — scrambles to get a microphone as Alyssa and, now Martin, begin screaming at the incompetent fool. She sprints over, and Martin snatches the microphone away fro…)

Martin Robertson: Oh, Stacy! According to my watch…

(Martin looks down at his wrist…)

VA: He’s not wearing a watch…

MM: Are you that oblivious?

Martin Robertson: … according to my watch, we’ve given you exactly one hour to make a decision. So why don’t you stop eating leaves off the top of the trees around here, and drag your gangly giraffe body down here and tell all of these people that you’re putting me inside the Asylum tonight!

VA: Yeah, let’s go Stacy! We don’t have all night!

MM: What do you have to do later tonight?

VA: I heard Albany has some very special talent around here tonight.

MM: Would your God Queen approve of that?

VA: Ummm… yeah, I’ll just say about 30 Hail Grace’s later, and we’ll be good.

(Martin continues to pace around the ring, but there’s no sign of Stacy coming out here…)

Martin Robertson: You see this? THIS is EXACTLY why I did what I did down in Sydney! Because if there’s one thing that the “Missing Mind” taught me before he went as senile as my old, decrepit father Grady Smith, is that if you want something in this business… you don’t wait around for someone to give it to you… YOU TAKE IT! And that’s exactly what I did!

VA: Damn right, Martin!

Martin Robertson: I’ve been sitting here for almost two years, screaming at the top of my lungs that the amount of respect I get around here is absolutely ridiculous. That after winning the Final Solution match, that after holding the Network Championship for nearly two… hundred… days… especially at a time where belts bounce around here more than Sahara at a German sausage festival…

(The crowd lets out an audible “OHHHH!”)

MM: That was uncalled for…

VA: Yeah… but probably true…

Martin Robertson: I’m the future of this business, and I prove it every… single… time I step out into this ring and show just how completely dominant I am! And time after time, match after match, this piece of shit organization does everything it can to hold me down while it pushes do-nothing losers that are too stupid to realize they’re no-talent hacks that can’t even shine my boots in this ring!

MM: Now you can’t tell me that’s true as well.

VA: Why not?

Martin Robertson: Hell, looking at a majority of the people that have been around the World Heavyweight Title picture over the past couple of years, maybe the secret to getting into that group is start fucking anything and everything that walks around here!

(An even louder “OHHH!” rings out from the crowd. Alyssa, however, just looks over and glares at Martin for a moment before shaking her head and letting out a smirk…)

Martin Robertson: Don’t look at me like that… you’re different.

MM: I don’t think Martin’s Queen liked that one!

Martin Robertson: Here’s the point… I’m done sitting around, waiting for my opportunity. I sat back while Chris Kage was sleeping with Animal Planet’s greatest export to get his titles around here. I sat back while the “Missing Mind” decided to fuck the world and take the title for himself. And then I got fucked out of my opportunity so that the “Two Inches of Terror” could finally win the title in a match of cripples that was worse to watch than Grady fighting to get the oxygen tank out of the back of his car every time he goes out!

(Alyssa starts applauding in the ring while the crowd continues to jeer towards the Youth King.)

Martin Robertson: Stacy, I gave you an hour to make that decision, which is really an hour longer than it should have taken you to make that decision. But if you’re not going to come out here, whether it’s because you don’t want to or you keep forgetting to duck when you walk through the door, …

(More jeers from the crowd)

Martin Robertson: Yeah, it’s a tall joke… she’s tall, you stupid idiots… I gave you an hour, and I’m not waiting around any longer. So if you’re not coming out here so we can publicly fire you…

(Martin looks over at Alyssa for a second, who nods)

Martin Robertson: We’ve got no problem coming back there and firing you in front of the entire locker room! Let’s go!

VA: He’s following through on his promise, Malone… Stacy’s getting fired tonight!

MM: Martin has lost it on this power trip, folks.

VA: Yeah, but he’s got the COO in tow with him, and, without Alex around to stop this, she’s the one truly in charge here!

(Martin drops down and rolls out of the ring as Alyssa tries to keep up behind Martin as quickly as she can. We can hear the crowd shouting obscenities towards the power couple as they make their way up the ramp and through the entrance curtain. The on-floor camera man follows them through, and we get a glimpse at the gorilla area set up backstage, where EWA staffers are scattering out of the way of the Youth King and the Queen Bitch.)

(As the duo exit the gorilla area and are now backstage, a second cameraman has caught up with them and is now following Martin and Alyssa. The walk is short to get to Stacy’s office and, without waiting, Martin throws the door open into the office and stops in the doorway, a confused look growing on his face. But as Alyssa enters the doorway with him, her look is much different than Martin’s… a look of shock)

Stacy Vandervort: Christ, does anybody knock anymore?

Martin Robertson: Shut your hole. Who inv…

Alyssa Marie Haven: C… Cameron?

(The camera turns into the office and seated next to Stacy, off to the side of her desk, is a gentleman dressed in a fine black suit, black briefcase resting on his lap. He stands as Alyssa starts to walk over towards him, turning her look of shock into one of almost a fake happiness…)

Alyssa Marie Haven: Cameron! It’s great to see you!

Cameron Black: Good evening, Alyssa.

Martin Robertson: What the hell is he doing here?

MM: That’s Cameron Black! The high-powered attorney of Alexander Haven and Chris Kage!

VA: Probably there for a handout. Go away, Black!

(Alyssa walks back towards Martin, who steps further into the office..)

Stacy Vandervort: Well, since everyone’s here, let’s have a talk, shall we?

(Martin steps in front of Stacy’s desk, slamming his hands down onto a pile of papers, which go flying around the room..)

Martin Robertson: Yeah, I think that’s a great idea. You putting me in the match, or are you marching yourself back to that trailer park on the other side of the state?

Stacy Vandervort: Actually, Martin, I don’t believe I’m go…

Cameron Black: (interrupting) Ms. Vandervort, I’ll handle it from here. And please, Mr. Robertson, do your best to refrain from the slanderous comments.

Alyssa Marie Haven: Oh, don’t mind him, Cameron. He… he’s just excited about participating in tonight’s main event. So… what brings you here? I thought you were off doing some fancy trial lawyer stuff…

Cameron Black: Well, Ms. Haven..

Alyssa Marie Haven: Oh, come on Cameron, just call me Alyssa. No need to be all formal here…

Cameron Black: Ok, Alyssa… Well, as I was saying, I was contacted by someone very important to … well, I would have just said us, but, regardless, I’ll just leave it at someone very important to me recently contacted me.

Alyssa Marie Haven: Oh really? Who was that?

Cameron Black: (deadpanning all of his responses) I’m not at liberty to say, but they asked me to deliver this…

(Cameron reaches into his black briefcase and pulls out a thick manilla envelope, tossing it gently towards both Martin and Alyssa. Alyssa picks up the envelope, pulling out the stack of papers that has to be more than an inch thick, and quickly begins thumbing through them…)

Alyssa Marie Haven: Cam… what the hell is this?

Cameron Black: As the acting executor of his estate, Alex asked me to file this paperwork for him.

Martin Robertson: What the hell is it, Alyssa… divorce paperwork?

Cameron Black: You could say that, Mr. Robertson.

(Martin turns towards Stacy..)

Martin Robertson: Is this you? Is this just another way for you to try and screw us out of what we deserve around here?

Stacy Vandervort: I had absolutely nothing to do with this. If anybody’s screwing themselves out of things around here, I’d suggest taking a look in the mirror, Martin…

(Alyssa continues to thumb through the paperwork before frustration kicks in, putting them back into the manilla folder)

Alyssa Marie Haven: Cam…

Cameron Black: The paperwork, Mr. Robertson, is a divorce… of Alyssa from her duties as Chief Operating Officer of the EWA.

(The audible roar of the crowd, presumably watching this on the jumbotron above the ring entrance, can be heard all the way from the arena back into the office. Martin grabs the envelope off the desk and starts pointing it towards Stacy…)

Martin Robertson: This… this is a god damn conspiracy against me!

(Martin takes the folder and throws it towards Stacy, just missing her, but crashing into the wall just behind her…)

Alyssa Marie Haven: Martin!

(Stacy, unfazed, just sits behind the desk, looking back and forth at Alyssa and Martin)

Stacy Vandervort: No, Martin… what this is, is Alyssa being fired from HER job tonight!

(Martin reaches over towards his left, lifting the desk up, flipping it over on its’ side. Everyone – Cameron, Stacy and Alyssa – all jump back before Alyssa reaches out, trying to grab a hold of Robertson…)

Alyssa Marie Haven: MARTIN! STOP!

Martin Robertson: Shut it! It’s been a conspiracy against me since day one, and now, this… Stacy…

(Martin turns to get face to face with Stacy…)

Martin Robertson: What, you can’t handle the truth when it’s thrown in your face, huh? You realize that you’re never going to be able to defeat me, so you have to go and start screwing with Alyssa now?

Stacy Vandervort: Back up, Martin…

Cameron Black: Mr. Robertson…

Martin Robertson: What, are you going to fire me, too? You going to try and get rid of me? Go ahead… do it! Because if this is the type of crap you’re going to pull around here… maybe I’ll go take my talents elsewhere, and just watch as you implode this place, just like your husband’s career imploded once I exposed him for the fragile fraud that he is!

Stacy Vandervort: You know what, Martin…

Cameron Black: Please, Mr. Robertson…

Alyssa Marie Haven: EVERYONE STOP!

(Surprisingly, the loud screech from Alyssa quiets everyone in the room. Everyone looks around at each other for a second, except for Martin, who is still staring a hole through Stacy. Alyssa reaches out, pulling him back away from the Executive Assistant, trying to navigate him through the self-created carnage in the office back towards her.)

Alyssa Marie Haven: Cameron, what the hell is going on?

Cameron Black: Well, the papers have removed you from the title of Chief Operating Officer and, until a new person has been approved by the EWA Board of Directors, I will be the acting COO.

Martin Robertson: Great, another stiff suit around here… just what this place needs!

Cameron Black: Actually, Mr. Robertson, I have no intention of being at every, or even most shows. I will mainly be at the corporate office, continuing the work that Alyssa was doing in expanding the organization to new and exciting places.

Martin Robertson: New and exciting places, huh? The last “new and exciting” thing to come from Cameron Black was when you bought two white dress shirts at Wal Mart instead of one…

Alyssa Marie Haven: It’s… it’s fine Martin. We’ll figure this out.

Martin Robertson: Figure it out, huh? So tell me, Cam… does that mean Geoffrey here is still in charge of making booking decisions?

(Stacy rolls her eyes)

Cameron Black: That is correct, Mr. Robertson.

Martin Robertson: Great. I’m out. Let’s go Alyssa…

Alyssa Marie Haven: What?

Martin Robertson: I’m not sticking around if the Toys R Us mascot is still in charge around here. I guarantee that, if she’s in charge, I’m doing nothing more than fighting Serpent Man and collecting a paycheck, going absolutely nowhere. So if that…

Cameron Black: Actually, Mr. Robertson…

Martin Robertson: … if that’s the case, I might as well take my ass back home, sit on my couch and become a professional Twitch streamer, because if I’m going to get paid for sitting on my ass doing nothing…

Cameron Black: Martin…

Martin Robertson: … I’m sure as hell not going to do it here! She’s still here, he’s the COO… I can pretty much guarantee I’m not in the Asylum tonight… so what the hell’s the point of staying around?

Stacy Vandervort: If that’s how you fe…

Cameron Black: Actually, Martin, if you’d let me finish, I was actually going to directly address that.

Martin Robertson: Save your breath. Alyssa, let’s go…

Alyssa Marie Haven: Let him finish, Martin.

(Martin spins back around, almost like a child that’s being forced to stand there and listen to his punishment one more time…)

Cameron Black: You are correct in that you are not fighting in the Asylum tonight..

Martin Robertson: See?

Cameron Black: However… we are starting to plan out our next pay per view show, This Means War, in December. And in the interest of fairness, at Battlelines 37, we’ll be placing you in a number one contender’s match against an opponent to be named later. And the winner of that match will go on to main event This Means War in a match for the World Heavyweight Championship.

Martin Robertson: A number one contender’s match? Seriously? You’re joking, right?

Cameron Black: Do I look like someone that jokes?

Martin Robertson: I don’t trust you, because I certainly don’t trust her… (pointing towards Stacy)… that she’s not just going to rip that up as soon as I leave this room.

Stacy Vandervort: Despite how much you want to think it, I am not out to screw you over, Martin. The board recognizes both your talent and that you were correct about your match in Sydney. The match is contractually set, so despite the petty name calling, I couldn’t change the match if I wanted to.

Martin Robertson: So Battlelines 37…

Stacy Vandervort: Battlelines 37, you against someone I haven’t decided yet, the winner goes to the main event of This Means War to face whomever the World Heavyweight Champion is at the time.

Martin Robertson: No games? No shenanigans?

Stacy Vandervort: No shenanigans.

Martin Robertson: No four-on-one’s or any crazy types of matches?

Cameron Black: You can rest assured that if Ms. Vandervort attempts to alter the match in any way that either I or the Board of Directors do not approve of, we will step in.

Martin Robertson: Yeah, real comforting. Go put your coke bottle glasses back on and get back to dancing for Six Flags theme parks again. Fine, but I swear if you try to pull anything Stacy, this is nothing compared to the hell that I will bring down on this place. Let’s go Alyssa…

(Martin turns and marches out of the office as Alyssa looks back towards Cameron and Stacy one last time before leaving as well..)

Cameron Black: Well, that went about as well as expected.

(The camera cuts back to Malone and Ashe.)

MM: What a shocking turn of events, Vince!

VA: I know! I never knew Cameron was the Six Flags spokesman!

MM: I meant with Alyssa being fired from her job as COO, and Martin, now in a number one contender’s match two shows from now!

VA: I wonder if he can get me free passes to the park…

MM: Would you stop…


Nikki Rogers: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest has been scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, at a weight of 225 pounds, standing in at 6’1” and hailing from Daytona Beach, Florida — ‘The Natural’ Rick Remington!!!

VA: Who?!

The lights suddenly cut out in the arena, leaving it steeped in darkness for a few moments, when a sudden burst of pyro ignites the stage and the opening notes of ‘Mayhem’ by Halestorm hit. The lights blaze a brilliant white before returning to normal as the guitars kick in. At the opening of the first verse, Remington appears at the top of the ramp slowly nodding, taking in every second of what it feels like. Stretching out on the ramp, and at the moment that Lizzy Hale’s screaming vocals mark the start of the chorus, he takes off in a sprint, sliding beneath the ropes and racing directly to the top corner, stretching his arms out to a surprisingly loud chorus of boos.

VA: Well, at least he got some sort of reaction.

MM: After his savage attack in Sydney on the Crimson Queen, there was no doubt in my mind these fans would be none too happy with him. He very well may have changed the course of that main event.

VA: Oh that’s right! This is the stooge Duane Gates got to do his dirty work under the assumption he was contracted by the EWA? Not to defend Sahara or anything, but we can’t have civilians attacking our wrestlers…

MM: Wait a second, let’s not forget the vicious attack he sustained at the hands of the Crimson Queen on orders from The God Queen!

VA: Allegedly. Has that ever been proven? Besides, that’s understandable if it was on orders from the God Queen, Malone. You can’t just go telling the God Queen ‘no’.

MM: You are truly delusional. Nonetheless, this is Remington’s debut here in the EWA, and will serve as a tryout match against a formidable foe.

As Remington stretches in the corner, awaiting his tryout match, Nikki Rogers steps back to the center of the ring.

NR: And his challenger, weighing in at 190 pounds, standing in at 6’1”, from Lenoir, North Carolina, The Heir of Valhalla – Joshua Kaine!!!

MM: Listen to this reception for the son of Sinnocence.

VA: I see nepotism is alive and well in the EWA.

MM: Are you kidding me?! He’s already a former EWA World Tag-Team champion in his young career, and calling his pedigree into question is just absurd!

Aaah! Aaah! Aaah! Aaah!

The raspy and electric voice of Alice in Chains’ Layne Staley and those distinctive guitar riffs suddenly hit the speakers, igniting a pop from the crowd. The heir to Valhalla himself appears from backstage, a grin on his face as he jogs to the front of the ramp with his arms extended, basking in the attention from the people in the audience.

I believe them bones are me
Some say we’re born into the grave
I feel so alone, gonna end up a
Big ole pile of them bones

Giving nods and slapping a few fans’ hands on the way down toward the ring, Josh climbs up onto the ring apron and smiles before stepping through the ropes. The son of Sinnocence retreats to his corner, hands on the ropes as he stares across the screen at his opponent, Rick Remington.

MM: Given Josh’s relationship — or rather, former relationship with Sahara — you have to wonder if he’ll be out for some measure of revenge himself for what Remington did to her at Live from Sydney?

VA: Ahhh, who knows, after Sahara kicked him to the curb to go on that Mormon retreat with the World and Network Champions–

MM: Not to–

VA: Not to what, Malone? Is that not accurate?

MM: In a convoluted sort of way, I suppose.

As referee David Tucker calls the competitors out from their corners, he quickly runs through the rules as they both stare at each other, nodding in agreement to what they already know.

MM: There is a lot on the line here tonight for Rick Remington. A tryout match signed on Stacy Vandervort in light of the attack on Sahara. Remington has to show her something here tonight, or he may never get a second chance.

VA: I’m torn, Malone. I don’t know whether I want to like this kid or not. I mean, on the one hand, he did brutally assault Sahara — so, actually nevermind — I like him.

David Tucker calls for the bell as Kaine and Remington slowly circle each other, as they got in for lockup, Kaine ducks under and grabs Remington from behind before shoving him away. Nodding his head, Remington turns around and goes in for the lockup again, this time each vying for ground.

Twisting to the side, Josh turns the lockup into a side headlock before Remington sends him off into the ropes and hits a crushing shoulder block, landing Josh flat on his back. Without hesitation, Remington charges the ropes, coming off he jumps over Josh, who springs to his feet and hits a perfectly timed dropkick, sending Remington down on his back.

As both competitors get back to their feet, the crowd cheers in appreciation of the wrestling display.

MM: Nice little exchange…

VA: All jokes aside, we are looking at two natural talents in that ring right now.

Locking up again, this time Remington ducks the tie up and grabs Kaine around the waist, hitting a rolling German Suplex as he gets up and hits another, this time releasing Josh toward the corner!

Getting to his feet as Josh lifts himself out of the corner, Remington walks right into an elbow, but recoils and smashes Kaine into the turnbuckles. Remington wipes his mouth from the impact of the elbow he took moments before. Locking up with Josh, Remington backs him up into the corner as David Tucker attempts to get between the two to break up the hold.

VA: Here comes trouble!

To a loud reception, Sahara emerges onto the rampway still sporting a black knee brace over her full length wrestling tights, already dressed in full her ring gear, she storms down the entrance ramp toward the ring, still sporting something of a slight limp.

MM: Trouble is right! That look on her face…she looks upset!

VA: Stop the presses, Sahara has RBF??? And in other news, water is wet!

Locked in the corner of the ring against the turnbuckles, Josh Kaine holds a hand beneath Rick Remington’s chin, pushing away in self-defense as the two vye for position.

VA: Rick Remington better get his head out of his ass, here she comes!

Not wasting any time, Sahara slides into the ring beneath the bottom rope and approaches Remington from behind, reaching both hands out to take hold when Remington suddenly lets go of Josh Kaine and spins around — CLOTHESLINE!

The crowd lets out a resonating ‘Ohhhhhh’ as Sahara finds herself staring up at the lights!

MM: He rocked her with a surprise shot! She thought she had him dead to rights, but he somehow knew she was coming!

Taken by surprise by the sudden appearance of Sahara, Josh Kaine stands in the corner and says something to David Tucker as Rick Remington towers above the blonde, who wipes her bottom lip, the area where Remington’s surprise shot took her off her feet.

VA: That shows he has great ring awareness for an untested rookie — now pounce, kid! You’re wasting time!

Holding up a hand, Sahara seems to plead with the EWA hopeful, who simply shakes his head as he reaches down — OHHHHHHH! — Suddenly doubling over, Remington finds the blondes boot firmly planted in his groin as she snarls something at him.

VA: He ain’t gettin’ up from that, the dumbass! She baited him and reeled him in like a guppie. Rookie mistake, Malone.

MM: Which rookies are prone to make.

David Tucker immediately calls for the bell and admonishes Sahara, who laughs it off as she does an easy back somersault up onto her feet. Sporting a proud smirk on her face as she watches the rookie writhing around on the mat, gasping for air while holding his midsection, she slowly approaches.

Shoving David Tucker to the side, Sahara bounces back off the ropes and nails Reminton in the side of the head with a vicious boot. Standing above him, the blonde sweeps her hair to the side, revealing her new look side buzzcut.

MM: Everything about this woman is practiced to precision, Ashe. From her deliberate movements, to her look … every single detail. She laid there pleading with Remington, selling that clothesline — which honestly looked vicious — and she wasn’t even hurt.

VA: All I know is the last time Sahara changed her look we got the Crimson Queen … consider my excitement level on alert!

NR: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match by result of a disqualification, ‘The Natural’ Rick Remington!

MM: An empty victory in which the fans are none too happy with! We had what looked like a old school wrestling match on our hands, but I guess we shouldn’t be surprised. There was no way Sahara was going to let that attack at Live from Sydney slide.

Upon the official announcement, an absolutely livid Josh Kaine finally steps in front of the Crimson Queen and motions down at Remington. Saying something in exchange, she repeatedly shakes her head and points down at her knee brace. The argument ensues, but finally having had enough of the conversation, the blonde holds up a hand in Josh’s face and gently brushes past him and once again stomps down on Remington’s head to keep him under control.

Clenching his fists, Josh shakes his head in utter disbelief at her disrespectful and dismissive attitude.

VA: What’s his problem? Didn’t he live with her? He knows how she is…

MM: I don’t know, Ashe, I can’t keep up with all the people she may or may not live with.

VA: (Chuckles.) Live with. Never before have two words required air-quotes more.

Approaching the ropes, Sahara drops down and rolls out of the ring. She approaches the timekeeper’s table and grabs the guy by the collar before shoving him off a folding chair before she snatches it up. Sliding the chair into the ring beneath the bottom rope, she rolls in and gets to her knees only to notice the Heir to Valhalla standing in defiance with one foot on the chair. Her chair. Getting to her feet, she says something to Kaine, her head bobbing around with attitude as she points down at Remington again.

Shrugging at the blonde in return, Josh shakes his head as she puffs out her cheeks and seems to calm herself. She then looks up at Josh with a soft smile before gently placing a hand on his chest before violently shoving him back into the turnbuckles.

Gritting his teeth as he steps out of the corner, the Crimson Queen points at him and shakes her head.

VA: What’s she saying?!

MM: I don’t know, but I can’t even fathom how Josh is containing himself right now. She’s taken great liberties with him here, and he’s refusing to fight back.

Slowly backing away from Josh, you can clearly overhear the blonde say, “Stay put!”, as she reaches down and picks up the chair. With a sigh, Joshua Kaine merely shakes his head, as the blonde turns her attention toward Remington.

MM: Look at the son of Sinnocence, Ashe, the kid looks heartbroken seeing Sahara like this again.

VA: What’d Remington expect after that vicious assault in Sydney? What’d anyone expect for that matter?

MM: I don’t know, Vincent, something seems different about her tonight.

Stalking over toward Remington, Sahara takes a moment to look out across the capacity crowd before her gaze stops on Josh Kaine. She shrugs before suddenly bringing the top of the chair down across Remington’s leg.

MM: Oh, God! That’s the same leg she shattered, Ashe!

VA: Allegedly, Malone. Allegedly!

MM: Allegedly my ass. Ugh, God — are you seriously starting to defend her again? What happened to all the anti-Sahara rhetoric?

VA: The jury’s still out, Malone let’s see what she does ton–

A second and third chairshot to Remington’s leg follow, sending a ringing echo across the arena. Standing against the turnbuckles and seeming to have witnessed enough, Josh finally starts to float out of the corner but Sahara points at Josh and lifts the chair in a somewhat threatening manner, backing him up.

A decidedly mixed crowd reacts to the blonde’s actions.

MM: They’re not sure whether to boo or cheer. This looks like shades of the Crimson Queen all over again.

VA: You say that with such sadness in your voice, and don’t get me wrong, she still isn’t the God Queen — hallowed by thy name — but I’ll take the Crimson version of Sahara over that cheerleader we’ve been seeing any day of the week and twice on Sunday.

MM: I bet you would.

VA: Correction, ANY man would, Malone.

Looking down at Remington, she tosses the chair to the side and quickly bends down and grabs the kid by his leg, yanking him toward a corner. Dropping down to the outside of the ring, Sahara positions Remington’s legs between the corner post before grabbing hold of both legs and firmly planting a boot on the post. Looking up at Josh with a smirk on her face, she shoves herself back and yanks Remington into the post!


VA: Ouch, that hurt.

MM: Josh is trying to reason with her right now, and she’s simply not responding. You gotta do something more than talk to her, she’s seeing nothing but red!

VA: Crimson, Malone, she sees only Crimson!

Grabbing Remington’s legs, still positioned around the ring post, Sahara lifts one of Remington’s legs and shoves it up into a figure four position.


MM: Stop her, Kaine! STOP HER!

VA: He’s a deer in headlights, Malone. Josh Kaine doesn’t know what to do!

Dropping back, Sahara locks on the corner post figure four as a painful cry emerges from Remington, who flails in the ring.

VA: I bet that attack on Sahara in Sydney isn’t looking so funny now, is it?!

MM: She’s gonna tear his leg up again, Ashe — she’s gonna wreck this kids young career! He’s just coming off that injury and between those chair shots and the pressure she’s putting on that shin right now–

After watching the attack in disgust for a few moments, Josh has finally had enough as the crowd applauds his actions when he drops to the outside and grabs Sahara, yanking her off the rookie. Grabbing hold of his shin, Remington rolls away from the corner in agony as EMT’s rush ringside to check on him.

Back on the outside, Sahara once again rolls backwards onto her feet, saying something snarky to the Heir to Valhalla. Holding both hands up, Josh replies calmly as she suddenly steps forward and bumps chests with him. Yelling something in Josh’s face, the Heir to Valhalla keeps his hands raised as to not touch the Crimson Queen as he slowly backs away.

MM: That exchange got pretty heated. Josh Kaine is doing everything in his power to not haul off and hit her, Ashe, and Kaine–OHHH MY GOODNESS!

Just as Josh turns away, Sahara lunges forward and shoves him shoulder first into the ringside steps, his momentum detaching the staircase with a resounding thud!

MM: Dammit, Sahara! She’s lost it!

VA: I know, isn’t this great?! Look at how hard he hit that staircase, Malone! She coulda’ torn up his shoulder right there!

Motioning ringside, Sahara approaches a technician and rips a microphone away from him. Still breathing heavily from the action that ensued, she looks from Remington to Josh, as Jada’s son holds his shoulder in agony.

Sahara: You don’t just inherit Valhalla, you entitled little shit, you take it–

The random smattering of stunned silence and a few random boos bring a scowl to Sahara’s face as she shakes her head, slowly lifting the mic back to her lips.

Sahara: Starting tonight, Valhalla and this entire fucking business belong to ME!

Arrogantly flinging the mic down on the rampway, Mojave and Nikki Caldwell come rushing down to ringside, where Moe stops and stares at his older sister. He can clearly be heard asking her ‘what the hell her problem is’ as the blonde says something in return, essentially blowing him off. With a proud smirk at the devastation caused, she slowly begins walking backwards up the rampway. Meanwhile, Nikki Caldwell checks on Josh and Remington along with the EMT’s ringside. A dejected looking Maurice MacKay watches as his older sister walks off, shaking his head in disappointment.

MM: Did she just tell him Josh should have stayed out of her business?!

VA: Loud and clear, Malone.

MM: But she’s the one that interfered in his match and got him disqualified!

VA: Well, according to her, the EWA is her business now.

MM: And something tells me she truly believes that. Something’s different, Ashe. Since her heartfelt response to Michael Draven in light of the words her husband had for her on the Network, I don’t know. That, combined with the attack she sustained at the hands of Rick Remington on orders from Duane Gates, who clearly tricked the kid into doing his bidding … a person can only take so much.

VA: Oh, c’mon, Malone, you people act like these cracks in her facade weren’t showing long before Sydney. You saw what happened when she flipped out on me this past summer. I said it then — and I’ll say it again — this chick is downright dangerous.

Helping Rick Remington from the ring, as well as lending a hand to Josh, Mojave and Nikki Caldwell assist the rookie to keep weight off his leg.

MM: What should have been a friendly tryout has turned into absolute chaos here tonight.

VA: Welcome to the world of professional wrestling, Mr. Remington.

MM: I don’t know what’s sadder … the fact you may be right about wrestling, or watching Sahara do what she did here tonight.


(Emerging from the gorilla position backstage, with a bit of a smirk on her face in the aftermath of the Josh Kaine/Rick Remington scene, the Crimson Queen is approached by none other than Terry Bull–)

Terry Bull: Sahara, if I could please have a minute of your time … what you just did to Josh Kaine and Rick Remington–

(Grabbing hold of the mic, she yanks it out of Terry’s hands before shoving him away from her–)

Sahara: No, Terry, you can’t have a minute of my time.

(Turning toward the camera, she continues.)

Sahara: If you wanna hear what I gotta say, then get Allison Haines to ask the questions, because this girl’s exclusive.

(Turning back towards Terry Bull, she smirks as she holds the mic upside down and drops it to the floor before walking away.)

(The scene fades into the back. We see the EWA Network Championship resting on a table first. The camera pans over to Maggie McIntyre, dressed in full ring attire, throwing a series of warm up kicks and punches. She seems intensely focused, working out her arms and legs, getting nice and loose. Upon closer inspection, it is apparent that Maggie has earbuds in and is lost in whatever music she is listening to.)

???: Hey Maggie!

(Maggie does not hear the words of the person who calls her, lost in her world of music and warm up. The person is revealed to be Jester Smiles, who walks up behind her. Maggie suddenly turns, throwing a quick turning warm up punch, which Jester is only barely able to catch!)

Jester Smiles: Woah! I don’t think it is time for us to start fighting yet!

(Maggie jumps, removing the earbuds quickly. She just grins when her senses come back to her, a week away from her family and a run-in with the devil kept her on high alert….not to mention this very important title match against a legend in the business.)

Maggie McIntyre: Holy shit, Jester Smiles!

(The Banshee knows this man will not attack her, his words on the Network told her as much. Jester Smiles was a good man, with a good heart. You could hear it in the clarity of his voice. Changed for the better.)

Maggie McIntyre: Sorry, got lost in the music…and other stuff. Been kinda crazy lately, being on high-alert doesn’t help.

(She reaches out, taking his hand in her own and squeezing it gently. The sable-haired EWA Network Champion lets him go after a minute before taking a step back. She saw who he’d met with earlier tonight. Despite him being a good man, he still spoke to a devil. Just as she had in Albany.)

Maggie McIntyre: And you know how it is, being a little paranoid when you’ve got a seven month winning streak going and a title around your waist.

(Jester giggles. It is such a strange sound to hear a six feet six inches tall professional fighter giggle, but he can’t help it.)

Jester Smiles: Yeah, backstages do have a tendency to provoke paranoia. Especially since, from what I can tell, we both have a bad habit of making the wrong kind of…friends…

(Jester’s smile turns a bit softer, but it is still there, and it is still warm.)

Jester Smiles: Hey, I’ve been hearing rumors that things are…rough for you right now. I know we don’t know each other, and I know in a very short time we are going to be beating the shit out of each other, but…are you okay? I mean, I suppose me asking seems pointless, because I’m aiming to take that belt from you no matter what you answer, but I do mean what I am asking.

(Maggie looks up to him, taking a step back at the giggle and looking a little more unnerved at the question itself. He’s genuinely asking. There’s no faking that body language. Her hand comes up to rub at the back of her neck unconsciously.)

Maggie McIntyre: Rough is…kind of an understatement, but doing the best I can, I guess? I’m not going into the match distracted or anything. Life is always rough, you just gotta take the punches and keep coming.

(Maggie looks off, a somewhat distant smile on her face.)

Maggie McIntyre: My Uncle GRIMM told me that. ‘Course, he’s got a face like someone beat him with a tire iron, so he’s pretty good at getting back up. He helped train me and with all the crap I’ve been through in the last year, it’s a wonder I don’t look like him too. How about you? You…okay?

(Jester shrugs.)

Jester Smiles: Yeah, I’m cool. My, uhhhh…meeting with your old friend was interesting. Have a feeling that’s some shit I’m going to need to deal with sooner than maybe I wanted to, but whatever.

Listen…I know this business doesn’t give a lot of reason to trust, and I know that even when someone isn’t actively trying to fuck you over, they are actively trying to fuck you, especially if you are a female, so I know that what I am about to say might come off as strange, but…

If you need a friend, let me know.

Maggie McIntyre: Yeah…my old friend.

(She brings a hand up to rub at her jaw before looking up to the contender for her title.)

Maggie McIntyre: You’re a good man. We don’t get much of those anymore in this business…

(The EWA Network Champion manages a smile, taking Jester’s hand in her own and shaking it firmly.)

Maggie McIntyre: I will. Same goes for you.

(Back to ringside.)


We come back to the ringside area to the sounds of the ripping guitar riff of “Fuck Everything” by Suicide Silence playing over the PA system as 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 his hat notably missing. The crowd boos as Ethan licks his lips, walking to the ring. His eyes are glassed over, his demeanor clearly out there.

MM: Ethan Leers looks completely out of his gourd.

VA: I hate to agree with you about anything, Malone, but this guy looks lost right about now.

As Ethan reaches the ring, he rolls under the bottom rope and lies on the mat, looking up at the lights. He holds his arms up, middle fingers in the air for a brief moment before he flops his arms to the sides yet again, mouthing “Blah, blah, blah” as Nikki begins to speak.

NR: The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL! Introducing first, weighing in at 190 pounds and hailing from Columbus, Ohio, he is…ETHAN…LEEEEEEEERS!

The fans boo loudly as Ethan continues to lie there, not moving whatsoever. He rolls his eyes as the referee checks in on him. His music ends as he slowly slides himself towards his corner.


The fans get to their feet as “Man of Constant Sorrow” by Charm City Devils begins to play.

NR: And his opponent, hailing from the Great American South!

Standing at the entrance, garbed in a pair of faded blue jeans with a torn hole in the knee revealing the kneepad underneath. His chest is bare, chiseled, and properly oiled as always. He wears a black trenchcoat, the bottom of which is ratty and torn, the BAB badge adorning the back, which he shows to the audience.

NR: He weighs in at 260 pounds!

He turns to face the audience, his black cowboy hat with the BAB skull badge on the front.

NR: He is the Bluegrass Bad Ass!

Buck throws both of his arms into the air, his fingers curled into the infamous long horn symbol as two shots of pyro go off on either side of him, giving the fans a good pop.


Buck walks down to the ring, but all excitement and happiness fades from him face, replaced with a scowl. He walks up the entrance steps and steps through the middle ropes. He tears the coat off and throws it from the ring, tossing his hat out with it.

VA: Oh man…Buck Dresden’s out here and he’s not smiling and joking around? It’s almost like…gasp…he takes his job seriously for once!

Buck motions to Leers and then to Cardillo. The referee walks over to Buck and Buck is obviously arguing with him about something. Cardillo rings the bell and the match begins. Leers goes to throw his jersey into the crowd but then casually drops it to the ringside area. He scoffs at the match and turns his head to the crowd, listening to them jeering at him. Buck shakes his head as Leers starts to saunter around the ring, chuckling and mocking the fans. He turns to Buck and throws his hands up in the Longhorn before finally flipping Buck off with double middle fingers.

MM: I…think…Buck’s had enough.

Before Leers can prepare himself, he is DRILLED to the mat with a spear! Buck spins around to one knee and slowly lifts his arms up in the air, cocks his imaginary shotgun, and aims it directly at Leers’ head. Leers lifts his head up as if pressing his forehead groggily to Buck’s gun. Buck softly mouths the word “Boom” and jerks Leers to his feet, wrist guard locked. He snaps Leers back and DROPS Leers with the Buck Shot! Leers is flat, Leers is out, and Buck drops one knee over Leers’ throat, glaring at Juan Cardillo as he makes the count.










NR: Here is your winner…BUCK…DRESDEN!!

Buck immediately asks for a microphone before his music even stops. He looks over the audience as Leers rolls from the ring. After a long moment of silence, the fans begin to amp up until Buck holds his hand up to quiet the fans down.

Buck Dresden: Faithful…y’all deserve better.

He holds his head down, composing himself.

Buck Dresden: Tonight, in front o’ creation, y’all get to SEE better. Y’see, that Asylum? That insane contraption what houses some o’ this company’s top talents in a match fer the World title? Y’all are gonna GET better. That right there? Yeah…that’s where I wanna be.

He grins as the fans cheer for him.

Buck Dresden: Y’all see that Network Championship, y’all see that Combat Championship, hell…y’all see that Tag Team Championship? THAT’S better. THAT’S where I wanna be.

He looks over to the audience.

Buck Dresden: So, folks…guys in the back? You line ‘em up, I’ll knock ‘em the FUCK down. One…after…another. Y’all folks out here? Y’all have a good show. Three down. EWA to go.

He leans against the ropes, grinning from ear to ear as “Man of Constant Sorrow” kicks back in.

MM: Bold words from Buck Dresden! He’s usually got so much on his mind and stuff to say but you gotta think he’s letting his frustration shine!

VA: I might not like the guy, but he’s saying the things Warriors have ALL said! He wants to what? Fight in the Asylum? Go for the World title? Tag title? Combat title? Network title? Oh wow, Buck! WOW! You and EVERY SINGLE WARRIOR.

MM: The difference, Vincent, is that Buck Dresden might just have what it takes to get there by sheer force of talent and will. He might be able to do what guys like Ethan Leers could not…and that’s make a devastating impact here in the EWA!


(The Heir to Valhalla storms into Stacy Vandervort’s office with an icepack on his shoulder in the midst of some sort of ensuing discussion with Nikki and Moe. With a sigh, the EWA Executive looks up from her desk at the trio standing before her.)

Josh Kaine: No, you’re absolutely right, Nik — I’m not letting her get away with this. I’m tired of making excuses for her. I’m tired of–

(The sound of Stacy Vandervort clearing her throat renders the newly christened team of Cerberus silent as Josh rearranges the ice pack against his shoulder.

The expression on Stacy Vandervort’s face makes it perfectly clear she doesn’t need an explanation for their sudden appearance.)

Stacy Vandervort: I take it this is about Blondie?

(Josh nods.)

Josh Kaine: You’re damn right it is. You saw what she did out there! She got me disqualified by attacking Remington, ruining our match, costing ME the match, and then she attacked me when I wasn’t looking–

(The executive assistant flashes a knowing smile.)

Stacy Vandervort: And let me guess. You want a match with her?

(Josh looks back at Nikki and Moe who shrug in unison.)

Josh Kaine: Y-yeah, that’s exactly what I want, but I want it to be no-disqualification. I wanna give her a taste of her own damn med–

(Shaking her head, Stacy can be overheard muttering, “What am I gonna do with you, Sahara?”)

Josh Kaine: What?

(Stacy shakes her head, letting out a sigh.)

Stacy Vandervort: Nothing. Listen, Josh. I’ve been following your young career thus far in the EWA, and I have to say I’m impressed. If you’re looking for managerial respect, you’ve got it. You’re young, and you’ve already started carving out a name for yourself and your team here, despite having some pretty damn big shoes to fill. You got the pedigree, but … well, you don’t got the–

(Josh furrows his brow.)

Josh Kaine: I ain’t got the what?

(Looking down at her desk, Stacy Vandervort sighs.)

Stacy Vandervort: What your mot–, er, what Sinn had.

(Looking up at the Heir to Valhalla, Stacy continues.)

Stacy Vandervort: What Sahara has. You don’t have the experience in the ring as a singles competitor. Look, I don’t think you really understand what you’re asking.

Josh Kaine: I know exactly what I’m asking, Stacy, I’m asking for a no DQ match, one on one to show that girl you can’t just run around without consequen–

Stacy Vandervort: Yeah, yeah, I know what you think you’re asking. You want a match to prove yourself to your friends here … to the fans … to your moth–you know what I mean. Believe me, I understand. You want to show the world you aren’t gonna let someone like Blondie get away with the shit she pulls around here–

(Looking back at Moe and Nikki, Josh nods along.)

Josh Kaine: Yes! That’s ‘zactly right!

(Stacy sighs again.)

Stacy Vandervort: You’re a good kid, Josh. And that’s what I mean. When it comes to competition, someday you’ll be second to none. But before I grant you this, I want you to understand something about Sahara. This won’t be about the thrill of competition for her. This won’t be some respect match with a former lover, and yeah, I’ve heard the rumors.

She’s going to try to hurt you. You listening to me? This is the real deal. She’s not Rick Remington, and singles competition is not the same skillset–ah-ahh, don’t talk. Just … listen for a second. I’ve been working in this business for a bit now, and I’ve never seen anyone take to it like she has. And I know you were both trained by Sinn, I get that. But she didn’t train Sahara in the same way she trained you. You were trained to be a wrestler. A perfect wrestler. She trained Blondie to hurt people … and that’s what she does. That’s what Sinn did.

Now…are you sure you want this?

(Rotating his shoulder, the Heir to Valhalla stands resolute.)

Josh Kaine: Yer damn right.

(Stacy nods.)

Stacy Vandervort: Okay then, consider it done for Battlelines 36. Josh Kaine vs Sahara, in a no-disqualification match.

Josh Kaine: Thanks, Ms. Stacy.

(Kaine, Nikki and Mo head toward the door, but Stacy calls out to Josh, stopping him in his tracks.)

Stacy Vandervort: If Blondie pulls out a win tonight in the Asylum? It’s non-title. There’s no way you’re getting a World Heavyweight Championship match this soon. Nothing personal.

Josh Kaine: No offense taken, Ms. Stacy.

(The trio leaves, and Stacy sighs, rolling her eyes as we fade out.)


VA: And up next … wh-why is this match even happening? This is just pure filler, Malone!

MM: Look, Ray needs to get back on track. He’s lost a few, struggled a lot, his head’s all over the place. He needs some momentum, and I guess you could look at this as a … fresh start.

VA: So, what you’re saying is Joe Lemon has no chance. That this is just pure filler.

MM: I didn’t say that. Joe Lemon has been around a while. He knows a few tricks and …

VA: Malone?

MM: Alright, fine! No chance at all! Waste of time! This is filler!

VA: See? So, can we protest this? Do we have to commentate on this match and waste our breath? Why can’t WE be the ones to have a pissbreak?

MM: That…is a very good question and one you should definitely bring up at the next staff meeting.

VA: Will you back me up?

MM: I … will be there.

VA: Twat!

Nikki Rogers: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, weigh…

Before Nikki can finish, she’s interrupted by a voice coming over the PA system.

Voice: E DUBYA A!

The Lemonheads, knowing who this is, actually give off a mini-pop. It can only be one man, EWA’s most famous rapper.

Joe Lemon: Mic Check! 1…2 ….1 … 2 …. What Ray Willmott gonna do!?

VA: Oh my God, Lemon is PSYCHED tonight!

MM: He sounds well up for this!

Not coming out to his usual ‘Lemonade’ by Alex Boye theme, Joe Lemon instead runs out with his lemon fuzzed baseball cap, and tye-dyed t-shirt with microphone in hand. He winks and clicks his tongue at a few female Lemonheads before hopping and skipping down the ramp, mic in hand and brought up to his mouth.

Tonight’s the night, I break my streak
And Willmott’s future will be rather bleak!
I’m tired of losing and being a joke.
A Welsh idiot’s future going up in smoke!
So don’t be shy, gimme a clap
And sing along while I finish this rap!





Surprisingly, the crowd really gets into it and sings along with the Lemonator. Lemon is now in the ring, clapping his hands together and trying to get the crowd into it.

VA: What has got into Joe Lemon?

MM: I … don’t know, Ashe. He’s transformed.

VA: Probably been on Serpent Man’s juice again.

MM: Hissssssssssss – terical!

Joe Lemon is loving this reaction and with a beaming smile on his face he continues.

A win tonight gets me on the ladder
And nothing else makes me gladder
I’m going to bea ….

Joe Lemon’s words trail off as the videotron springs to life and we see Ray Willmott laying flat on the floor. Three huge men, dressed in black robes and hockey masks are laying boots into him, his head busted wide open. Two of the men look to be around 350 to 400lbs in size and stature, standing at around 6’7” each, while the other is tall and relatively trim, standing slightly taller at around 6’9”. They completely dwarf the smaller 6’0” Willmott.

MM: Oh my god, Willmott has been assaulted again by these … wh -who the hell are they?!

VA: I don’t know but he looks completely defenceless!

MM: We need some security back there ASAP.

But strangely, it’s not security swarming the group but EWA officials. It’s as if the backstage area is aware of what’s going on and allowing it to happen. There’s not even another wrestler in sight coming to help Ray. He’s on his own.

One of the 400lb men peels Willmott off the cold, hard backstage floor as blood trickles down his face, and places his head between his legs in a powerbomb position. He flips Ray upward, lifting him high, and with the help of the other 400 pounder launches Ray about 10 ft forward into a massive steel girder door. The smash is deafening and Ray quickly collapses to the ground in a heap, pain etched on his face.

VA: This is hard to watch. Will someone please do something? These men are massive. Just one of them would be enough to destroy Willmott, but THREE?!

MM: Security should be kicking them out of the building, this is assault. We know Willmott’s had issues with Haven and the front office, but he doesn’t deserve this. No one does.

The EWA officials are now trying to break it up, but are just shoved aside by two of the men monsters. The leaner one inches closer to Willmott, looking down on him, observing the welts on his back and the tears and confusion in his eyes. Ominously, he glares down at him, no way of telling what thoughts are running through his masked head. After a while longer, he finally speaks.


MM: Not again! Stop this, God!

The tall, leaner figure then walks out of camera shot as the two men monsters grab Willmott up from underneath his arms, and drag his limp and practically unconscious carcass behind him. After a few moments, the videotron switches back to the EWA logo and the camera focuses on a confused and intimidated Joe Lemon back in the ring. He shrugs at Nikki Rogers, looks at the camera and starts to make his way out of the ring, assuming his segment is over.


Lemon responds to the deep, booming, encrypted voice and does not move a muscle, his face suddenly drained of all colour. Hilariously for some members of the crowd, the voice has caught him stood half-way between the ring and the outside and he remains motionless between the ropes.


Joe Lemon doesn’t question a thing and immediately hops back into the ring, facing the entrance way ramp where he can see the three men monsters are dragging an unresponsive Ray Willmott to the ring. The crowd feed a mixed reaction, delighted to see Willmott, but also angry at his treatment and unsure what to make of the three masked strangers. Some chant Willmott’s name to encourage him to fight back, but the glassed over look in the eyes of the former World Champion suggests he can’t even hear them.

MM: What have they done to him?

VA: I don’t understand any of this.

The three men reach the base of the ring, all glaring up at Joe Lemon who looks horrified. His instincts are telling him to run but he is also fixed to the spot like glue, transfixed by the sudden turn of events. The leaner big man half turns his head to his two accomplices, giving them a nod. They then both draw Ray Willmott to his feet and both rise him to the heavens in a deadlift position, one placing his hands underneath his body, the other on Willmott’s legs. The crowd gasp at the feat of strength as they then walk closer to the foot of the ring and proceed to throw Willmott into it and at the feet of Joe Lemon. The men then reassemble in a staight line, looking directly at Joe Lemon.

The crowd gasp in surprise, some stunned in silence, others outwardly shouting and screaming with a mixture of exciteability and rage. They know what’s coming, even if Joe Lemon is still a bit unsure. They just don’t want to believe it. The man who seems to be the leader of the man monsters then slowly raises his arm and points across the ring toward the time keeper, holding it there until he sounds the bell to start the match.

VA: No….no, this can’t happen.

MM: I … think it might happen, Ashe.

The men monsters fold their arms at the same time, first looking up at Joe Lemon, and then down towards the broken Ray Willmott. Joe Lemon licks his lips nervously, hesitant at first, but his eagerness soon takes over as he launches into a lateral press on the former EWA World Champion. David Tucker goes for the count.

VA: No …








MM: Can’t be….








VA: Holy shit…






The bell rings and Nikki Rogers picks up her microphone as Joe Lemon does a Michael Jordan-esque leap into the air, Tucker there to raise his hand.


(Joe Lemon is running around the ring in a crazed state, leaping, jumping, punching the air, acting as if he’s just won a championship. The camera focuses on members of the crowd who have their mouths wide open in shock. Some are actually cheering loudly, not expecting the outcome.)

MM: That’s the biggest win of his career, no doubt. That…

VA: That goes beyond win, Malone. That’s an upset! Fuck, he did it in 10 seconds! That’s a fucking miracle, how did…


VA: Celebration over.

(Willmott still hasn’t moved as all three masked men are in the ring, now convening around Joe Lemon. One of the 400 pounders wastes no time again getting Joe Lemon up and in a powerbomb position, lifting him towards the heavens, and with the aid of the other 400 pounder, thunders Joe Lemon into the ring canvas)

MM: Oh my God…

VA: They haven’t let go!

(They don’t let go of the powerbomb, lifting Lemon up again and again drilling him into the mat.)

VA: A third time!

MM: The strength of these men!

(They lift and drop him a third time as Lemon cartwheels inside out and sails out of the ring, slumping to the outside. The crowd chant ‘Holy Shit in response, clearly amazed at the immediate impact of the men who have, once again, focused on Ray Willmott. Nikki Rogers quickly tries to leave the ring, but the taller masked man extends his hand towards her, ushering for her microphone. Gingerly, she tiptoes across the ring, quickly handing it to him and escaping before she gets caught up in the chaos. The crowd are now buzzing, they want to know what’s going on and they may just be about to find out.)


(Willmott is, naturally, unable to respond, his face practically a crimson mask.)


(The taller man with the microphone leans in just a little closer with a noticeable sneer etched in the back of his voice.)


VA: “What comes next?” What is next? What the hell…

MM: I can’t even imagine.

(One more time, the bigger man grab Ray Willmott up and slam his body hard against the nearest turnbuckles, driving the air out of his lungs. As his head dangles downward, he looks like he’s about to throw up in the ring, but the two men force his head upwards by yanking on his hair, another wince flashing across his face. The two monsters hold Ray there, their strength practically chaining him to the ring. Meanwhile the taller, leaner man with the microphone stands directly in Ray’s eyeline and gently places the microphone down on the floor. The crowd start buzzing with anticipation, desperately wanting to know who’s been jumping Willmott these past few weeks.)

(The man grabs the bottom half of the mask with one hand and the top half with the other and casually slips it off, letting it drop to the floor. The camera can’t see who it is, but there is a sudden shift in Willmott’s face and a look of absolute horror. He is paralysed, shaken, looking as if he’s had his heart ripped out of his chest. Some of the crowd are also now able to see the person’s face for themselves and join the former EWA World Champion in shock. The camera can just make out the back of his head and his thick Man Bun Ponytail made up of dark, greying hair. There is another momentary pause before he throws off his black robes, revealing a black T Shirt which says Wildfire, a pair of dark blue, denim jeans, and thick, steel-toed black boots.)

(Ray tries to push himself forward but is heavily restrained by the men monsters who slam him back against the turnbuckles again. The crowd start talking amongst themselves in surprise as Ray Willmott continues to watch on in horror. The tall man gently leans downwards to pick up the microphone again and then slowly, but surely, turns to face the microphone, allowing everyone else to see who’s under the hood.)






MM: Is that … N-Nick Willmott?

VA: (quietly) Oh my God..

(Sure enough, Ray Willmott’s own brother is stood in the middle of an EWA ring, a sick, sinister and sadistic smirk on his face. His light green eyes are like piercing lasers looking dead into the camera as he gradually lifts the microphone towards the thick beard on his face.)

Nick Willmott: This is one wound that will never heal, brother.

The open wound you’ve carried around with you for nine years.

A wound I gave you.

MM: What?

VA: Is he…?

MM: Don’t tell me….

(Nick turns back to face his brother whose eyes are bloodshot red. The crowd remains stunned into silence)

Nick Willmott: You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. Sitting in the shadows, clenching my teeth, holding my tongue. Hanging on for the right moment!

(Nick sighs heavily)

Nick Willmott: It’s been exhausting. Because I’ve had to watch you prance around in here, kissing up to your community, playing God while completely fucking shirking your responsibilities to family!

You selfish, self-righteous, egotistical, piece of shit!

(The crowd boos, though some throw out a few cheers. Ray Willmott just looks as if the bottom of his world has fallen out.)

Nick Willmott: All you cared about was some piece of tin to strap around your waist. Every other word out of you was ‘EWA World Champion’ … ‘I’m going to win the title’ … ‘Me, me, fucking me!’

And it’s always been the same with you, Ray. Ever since my knee bummed out, you kept finding it in yourself to rub those accomplishments in my face. Your Triple Crowns. Your twenty gazillion career victories. All those championships. You knew how badly I wanted to be in here. You knew my best chance of that was in a tag team. But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? It was always about the solo career, using me whenever it suited. Using family to project yourself to the top.

That’s why I had to make a stand the only way I could. That’s why I had to change your fucking life for good!

(Nick storms over and grabs Ray’s face between his left hand, squeezing his jaw tightly.)

Nick Willmott: That’s why I forced you to fake your death and leave this business forever!

(Ray looks as if he’s about to throw up in his brother’s hand.)

VA: The son of a …

MM: This is disgusting! Is Nick Willmott admitting to threatening Ray Willmott’s life? His family’s life? Is he the one responsible for making Ray walk away from this business?

VA: I…don’t even know what to think, Malone.

Nick Willmott: Weren’t expecting that were you, Ray?

You think anyone would really waste their time hacking you? You’re such a dumb fucking piece of shit.

I’m amazed how long you’ve carried that story around, believing it, living it, telling people about it. You fed into that bullshit hook, line, and sinker, didn’t you? But you played your part well. You were a good, obedient little boy. Taking your family somewhere safe, changing your identity, working at Walmart. I respect that, at least.

I respect that, when the time came around, you made the right decision.

(Nick’s face suddenly twists and contorts, turning blood red.)

Nick Willmott: UNTIL YOU DIDN’T!

Until you decided to fucking show up here with some incurable itch you weren’t able to scratch! Until you got on your hands and knees in this ring, begging and pleading with the fans, with Michael Draven, and everybody else that you were back and you loved them and you missed them and waaa, waaaa, waaaa.

You insufferable cunt! How dare you? HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME? To Vicky, to Laurie and little Elyshia. Oh, and let’s not forget Michael. Yeah, remember him? I’d be surprised since I’ve basically been dad the last few years while you jet off around the world, sleeping with Laura.

How is she by the way? Haven’t seen her much….

(The menacing smirk on Nick’s face tells the world he knows exactly how Ray’s fiance is. Ray doesn’t even have the energy to look at his own brother any more, he looks completely and utterly defeated in every possible way.)

Nick Willmott: You forced my hand, Ray. You brought this on yourself and all of us, bringing defenseless Vicky into your fucking grudge with William West and HATE. That was the last straw for me…

Right then, I knew, you were no longer my brother! I knew something needed to be done!

And I was patient because I saw you and Laura growing closer, I could see your relationships with people changing and you were carving another life for yourself in the business. The cycle was starting over.

But I knew an opportunity would come. Sooner or later, it always does.

(Nick lets out a ferocious belly laugh.)

Nick Willmott: And now look at you. Nobody’s coming to your rescue. Nobody gives a fuck about you or what you do. Everybody’s walked away from you. You can’t even get the precious World title you so desperately crave. And you just lost to Joe Lemon in ten seconds flat. Nobody is going to take your wrestling credentials seriously ever again.

You’re defenseless. Directionless. Hopeless.

So we’re here to fill that empty void. We’re here to finish the job, once and for all. And you can thank good old Alexander Haven for that one. See, one of his last acts before walking out that door was to sign all three of us to the EWA. We’ve got a license to do what we want, when we want to you.

(That actually raises a pop from the crowd who clearly want to see more of this situation unfold.)

Nick Willmott: And I may have a bum knee but I can still fight. I can still hurt you. And with my true brothers at my side, I can still END … YOU.

Because the way I figure it. If I can’t make you walk away from this business … I’M GOING TO DESTROY THIS FUCKING BUSINESS FOR YOU!

(And with one final sickening act, Nick Willmott rears his arm back and drills the microphone square into the side of Ray Willmott’s head. The two monsters let Ray go as he slumps to the floor unconscious. The crowd start to boo heavily, with some starting to chant ‘Laura Seton’ but she doesn’t reply. Nobody replies. Ray Willmott is alone in an EWA ring, blood pouring from his face.)

VA: I’m not usually lost for words, Malone, but …. this is a shocking turn of events.

MM: We now know Nick Willmott orchestrated everything to do with Ray Willmott’s supposed death a few years back. The thing that led to him leaving the business for eight years. Nick forced Ray out, but now that Ray’s returned, Nick is coming to finish the job.

VA: As far as I know, Nick Willmott hasn’t wrestled in about fifteen years. He was part of a tag-team with Ray known as Wildfire and they nearly won a major tag team tournament together many years ago. They’ve tagged all over the world, but Nick eventually bowed out due to injury.

MM: And now, apparently, he’s here because Alexander Haven has signed him and his “True Brothers” to a contract.

MM: Yeah, and who the hell are those men he’s with? How does Nick know them and why are they listening to him?

VA: The bitterness in Nick’s voice when he talked about the Willmott family. He thinks Ray has failed them because all he cared about is his wrestling career. And in a way, Malone, I think I agree.

MM: How can you say that? Ray has always been a family man. He brings Elyshia to shows all the time. She became really close with Laura and they’ve bonded a hell of a lot.

VA: And what about his forgotten son, Michael? What did he do for him?

MM: What do we know about their relationship? How can we even comment on that.

VA: We’ve both got a lot more questions here, even though we just had a ton of answers. I … let’s just get some medical attention for Ray out here and move on with the show.

MM: Let’s…yeah. Let’s head backstage.

(The scene opens backstage to the Crimson Queen, her legs dangling from the edge of the catering table as field reporter Allison Haines rushes up…)

Allison Haines: Sahara, I-I’m sorry if I’ve caught you at a bad time–

(Sahara shrugs.)

Sahara: Nah, I’m not eating … just here to make people feel uncomfortable.

(Flashing a bit of a smile at her honesty, Allison steps in closer.)

Allison Haines: Earlier tonight, some might say you justifiably took out Rick Remington in retaliation for his attack at Live from Sydney, but what of Josh Kaine? You waited until he turned his back and shoved him into the ringside steps and as a result he’s issued you a challenge–

Sahara: That’s why I’ve always liked you, Allie — you tell it like it is. Yer damn right I justifiably took out Prick Remington. That punkass doesn’t even belong in the EWA, and the fact Stacy gave him a tryout after he tried to hurt me is pathetic. It shows her bias against me.

Allison Haines: Her bias against you? She’s been putting you in main events for the world ti–

Sahara: Ah-ah, Allison. The only reason I’m in her fixed main events is because she’s got no other choice, Stacy Vandervort knows the executives in charge are watching the ratings and she knows who these fans wanna see.

Allison Haines: I’m–I’m not sure that’s entirely true … but what of Josh Kaine and his challenge?

(Sahara rolls her eyes.)

Sahara: Josh Kaine? Challenge rejected. Listen, Allison, I’m a main event talent now — whether anyone likes it or not — and I ain’t got time for the likes of “The Heir of Valhalla”–

(The blonde sarcastically performs air quotes for emphasis.)

Sahara: He’s only here because Jada’s prolly got some embarrassing photos of Vandervort in a safe deposi–

(Closing her eyes, Sahara suddenly falls silent and leans her head back as Stacy Vandervort steps into the frame to the sound of a cheering audience.)

Stacy Vandervort: You know, I just don’t get it. What’s your problem, Sahara? I’ve done nothing but take your side since I’ve returned to the EWA. Yeah, you go ahead and shake your head, but I’m the one that gave you your first opportunities in the main event scene, and do you know why? Because you’ve earned it.

(The Crimson Queen turns away, and Stacy moves to step in front of her, blocking her view of anything else other than the Executive Assistant.)

Stacy Vandervort: Look at me when I’m talking to you. Nothing’s ever good enough for you, is it? Fixed main events? Is that what you think I wanted at Live from Sydney? To fly halfway around the world for a non-finish? I’ll tell you what, let’s start by getting your ass off my damn catering table before I have to get all this food tested, since we all know your reputation–

(The pop from the capacity crowd nearly drowns her out as Sahara opens her mouth in disbelief at Stacy’s words. Complying with the EWA Executives orders, Sahara shoves herself off the catering table and stares at her with a slight snarl.)

Stacy Vandervort: And while you’re at it, wipe that resting bitch off your face. What are you gonna do? Hit me? Go ahead, Lauren … I dare you. End your career right now. I can guarantee you Cameron Black will support that decision 100%. Do you think you’re the first bad ass bitch I’ve come across in this industry? Honey, before I met Chris, I slept with the baddest bitch this industry has ever seen. The fact is, I was proud of you, of the wrestler you’ve become, and I rewarded you for that. And this is the thanks I get?

(Stepping up in Sahara’s face, the resolute EWA Executive Assistant smiles as they lock eyes, with the Crimson Queen finally looking away, breaking eye contact.)

Stacy Vandervort: That’s what I thought. And as for the challenge issued by Josh Kaine? You don’t make the matches around here — I DO — and you WILL be accepting his challenge at Battlelines 36!

(The crowd pops at the announcement.)

Stacy Vandervort: So what’s it gonna be … Mrs. Draven? Got something to say?

(Looking back at Stacy Vandervort, Sahara shakes her head with rather bored looking shrug, her voice suddenly cold.)

Sahara: I tried to let him off the hook. I tried to save him the embarrassment of having to face me one on one … a proposition he ain’t ready for. But if this is what you want, his blood is on your hands, Stacy.

(Stepping back with a shrug, Sahara points at the EWA Executive.)

Sahara: I don’t care who you throw at me, Stacy … you will not stop me from reaching the top.

(Shaking her head as the Crimson Queen slowly backs away with a smarmy look etched onto her face, Sahara raises a fist.)

Sahara: Victory or Valhalla.

(The Executive Assistant rolls her eyes.)

Stacy Vandervort: Honey, you have no clue what Valhalla is about. But with that mouth of yours…someday, someone’s gonna show you.

(And with that, Vandervort turns sharply, the sound of her heels echoing through the hallway as she marches off, leaving Sahara to glare after her as we fade to ringside.)



MM: Folks, this next contest has got a lot of bad blood brewing.

VA: Yeah, and that’s all in the body of the Combat Champion.

MM: Will you be serious? William West has held his own private war, it seems, with the House of HATE. He has defeated Rayner. He’s defeated NOTHING…

VA: By disqualification!

MM: And now he stands with the last Pillar remaining, the returning Stranger, Indrid Calder!

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

“Smoke and Mirrors” by Puscifer starts to thrum, and the New York crowd comes alive vociferously with boos.

MM: Is it just me, or do the people here despise Calder just a little more?

VA: It’s probably West’s history in this building. The people probably see him some sad, conquering hero.

Calder appears, slinking his way to the ring. His chest is bare, much like it was when he returned. A slick smile adorns his face as he prepares to face his Masochist one on one.

NR: Introducing first, hailing from Nothing, Arizona, and representing HATE……Innnnnnndrid Callllllllllder!

VA: Boo him all you want, Albany! This dude is creepy as hell!

Calder stands casually in the corner of the ring now, his smile curling into something more amused as his music shuts off.

There’s a buzz rippling across the New York crowd here in Albany. As if they’ve been waiting for the man about to make his entrance.

“Who Taught You How to Hate?” kicks on, and the NYSWF Memorial Arena ERUPTS.

VA: Fuck! My ears are bleeding!

MM: A tremendous ovation for the two time former Hardcore Champion! Two time Tag Team Champion! Two time Television Champion right here under the NYSWF banner!

The Combat Champion steps out from behind the curtains. The roar intensifies as he smiles out at the New York crowd.

NR: And his opponent, he is the EWA Combat Champion…… Willlllllliammmmmm Wessssssssssst!

MM: A tremendous ovation for one of the NYSWF’s finest!

VA: Oh, good. They like him. It’s always good to have people that love you appear at your funeral.

West unstraps the Combat Championship when he gets to the ring and hands it off to referee Danny Smith. He locks eyes with Calder, who’s look of derision is readily apparent. The music shuts off, but the crowd is still noisy. Finally, after a moment, they do quiet down.

They stand face to face in the center of the ring.

One man smiles at his former friend, waiting to welcome him with his favorite pain.

One stares coldly, wanting to finish the job he started months ago.

The Stranger opens his arms, symbolically inviting his friend and brother back home.

The bell rings, and The Masochist fires a right hand between the eyes of Indrid Calder, sending him to the canvas with the force of the blow!

VA: Well, that didn’t take long!

MM: It was almost like Calder expected it. Like he offered West a free shot!

West mounts Calder now, firing right hand after right hand to the face and head of the Spider King.

Danny Smith is right there, warning West about the closed fists, but West stops mid swing when he notices that Indrid Calder…

Is laughing.

MM: West is trying to put his fist through his face and he finds it funny? Is he insane?

VA: Yes?

West picks up Calder, and executes an Irish whip.

Calder reverses, still grinning, and stands still in the center of the ring as West rebounds, cutting him in half with a vicious spear!

MM: Blood Drive by West and Calder…..waited for it?

West doesn’t hesitate in hooking the leg, and we have the first pin attempt of the contest!












Calder kicks out!

MM: What is going through the mind of Indrid Calder right now?

VA: If West has his way? His fist and his foot.

MM: Indrid Calder is not even…he’s not fighting back. It’s almost as if he’s letting West inflict this punishment.

West gets to his feet, and Calder throws a half-hearted clothesline! West dodges, and grabs Calder at the waist as he spins around with the momentum!

MM: German suplex! He’s got the bridge!












Calder rolls out of the pin! Both men get to their feet and West quickly snaps Calder up with a Northern Lights Suplex that would put a smile on John Iley’s face! Another bridge!












Calder kicks out yet again!

MM: West is opting for a technical assault early on.

VA: That’s odd. This is a completely different strategy from his earlier matches with HATE, when he just opted for out and out violence.

MM: That’s a fantastic point, Vince.

VA: Maybe he’s just crushing on Calder or something.

MM: And there’s the Vincent Ashe we all know and loathe.

VA: Hey, I didn’t say there was anything wrong with that. Calder showed West a level of respect he didn’t get from NOTHING or Cal Rayner. Perhaps, even subconsciously, West picked up on that and is trying to keep this match clean.

MM: That…..that’s another good point.

VA: Also, West is ugly.

MM: ….dammit.

The match continued on the same vein for a few minutes, with West showing off his adept technical skill, but was unable to put away Indrid Calder. West used an array of suplexes, throws, and even a lightning quick enziguri that even took the crowd off guard in his old stomping grounds, but he was not able to even wipe the grin from Calder’s face!

MM: West is scaling the turnbuckle now! He’s going to the high risk district!

VA: He’s a desperate man, Malone! He wants to finish this war with HATE, and the only way he thinks he can is by beating the Spider King!

West soars, coming down with a massive frog splash!




MM: Calder moved at the last second and all of the air has left the lungs of the Masochist!

VA: And Calder is still grinning! He’s hurting, sure, but I swear that smile just grew wider than Sahara’s does when she accidentally walks into the men’s locker room!

Calder gets to his feet and leans into the face of William West, who is writhing in pain, gasping for a single, deep breath.

We can’t hear his voice, but he speaks clearly to the Masochist, letting the man know that the Stranger is about to make him live up to that moniker. Just two words.

“My turn.”

With that, Calder drives his boot to the side of West’s jaw that is protruding outward, causing the Masochist to flail about the ring, clutching his face!

MM: A vicious blow from Calder!

VA: Don’t look for a technical clinic from the Stranger, Malone. Calder said it himself: he’s gonna make West hurt.

Calder gets a running start as West gets to his hands and knee, and just straight kicks the Masochist in his jaw!

MM: He may have just fixed that protrusion for William West! Good god!

West is on the mat now, and Calder just GRINDS his boot into the side of the face of the Combat Champion!

MM: Calder is living up to his word! He’s giving West nothing but pure agony!

Danny Smith’s pleas to bring the match to order fall on deaf ears. Calder uses the ropes for momentum, leaping up and driving the knee into the side of the head of West, right into the jaw!

VA: He’s not only trying to hammer home his point to William West, but Indrid Calder is the hammer himself, and that disgusting jaw deformity of West’s is the nail he’s trying to flatten!

West tries to escape Calder’s clutches, wanting to move into his own assault once again, but Calder sits down on his back for a rear chin lock! But instead of the chin, Calder hooks his fingers on the inside of West’s cheeks and pulls back as hard as he can, straining with the effort!

MM: While West was going for victory, Calder doesn’t seem too worried about that! He just wants West to suffer!

VA: He wants West to wake the fuck up! Realize his place is among the Pillars of HATE!

Danny Smith makes his count, with Calder breaking the illegal hold on four. Calder would keep on his assault, using a variety of strikes and submissions focusing on West’s jawline! Legal or not, Calder walks the line of disqualification in order to just plain HURT the former Pillar!

MM: Calder now has a Dragon Sleeper applied, and all of that pressure under his arm is right against the aching jaw of the Combat Champion!

West tries to fight out of it, somehow slipping Calder’s grip and shoving him away! Calder seems pleased with the fight and turns back to his prey only to be caught with a leaping reverse ace crusher!

VA: Lunatikk Sweet! Where did THAT come from?!

Both men are on the ground, West unable to make the quick cover. He slowly slides over, rolling Calder onto his back, and collapses on top of the Stranger!













MM: West couldn’t get the pin in time, and this match continues!

West is a bit frustrated, and he holds his jaw in pain. But he gets to his feet and brings the Spider King up with him, executing a SECOND Lunatikk Sweet, and this time, he gets the cover right away!













MM: What?!

West looks shocked! Calder is stirring, and the match is still ongoing! West gets up, waiting for the Stranger to finally get back to his feet!

VA: A THIRD Lunatikk Sweet! This is over!

West hooks both legs in this pinfall attempt!


















West is absolutely flabbergasted as Indrid Calder once again kicks out!

VA: That’s the third time Calder has denied West here!

West stares incredulous before a wide grin splits his own face. We can’t hear it over the crowd noise, but the Masochist begins to laugh.

MM: Is he cracking up?

VA: Yes?

West lifts Calder up, seething with rage, but the Stranger goes to the eyes! West stumbles back a bit, and Calder rocks his jawline with a thunderous forearm that sends him into the ropes!

Calder moves quick for a man who just ate three Lunatikk Sweets, and wraps up West in a submission hold, using the ropes for leverage!

MM: Spidersilk! And look at the boot of Indrid Calder, grinding the face of William West!

Danny Smith is in there quickly, making his count to break the painful, yet illegal hold in the ropes! Calder does break right before the five count, and West collapses in the center of the ring, trying desperately to get to his feet, only managing to get to hands and knees before slipping down into the mat!

Calder sees the position his adversary is in, and we all know what’s about to come!

VA: Here it comes! Calder is done with this game!

West is shakily on his hands and knees, and Calder runs the ropes, looking for his deadly curb stomp!

And a massive blur runs right into him as he rebounds off the ropes, taking him to the canvas!



MM: That’s…..! That’s MICHAEL DRAVEN!

VA: What’s the EWA Champion doing out here?

Smith immediately calls for the bell, but Draven is possessed, trying to fire off punches at any part of flesh he can land them on Calder! The crowd is going nuts, as the Vengeful One is getting a measure of revenge on the man who shattered his leg!

MM: Draven has Calder! He is on fire on the Spider King right now!

VA: Not for long!

Calder snakes his way free and slides out of the ring. Draven gets to his feet and goes after, hindered by the ropes. As Calder grins, making his escape, William West has gotten to his feet.

MM: What’s he grinning about!?

West looks to Draven, then to Calder, obviously confused.

NR: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, as a result of a disqualification….



Indrid Calder!

VA: THAT would be why! The fireworks haven’t stopped yet!

West angrily shoves Michael Draven, pointing down at Indrid Calder accusingly.

MM: West is pretty upset! Draven just inadvertently cost him this match!

VA: You say that, but we all know how obsessive Draven gets. That’s pretty much well documented that he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone else when he has revenge on his mind!

Draven and West argue mid ring as Calder retreats behind the curtains. West has had enough and storms off.

MM: Folks, this isn’t the last we will see of the World Heavyweight Champion! Don’t forget, the Asylum match is still in our main event!

VA: Let’s take you now to a word from one of our sponsors!


(We fade backstage to Allison Haines, who stands in front of the traditional black backdrop with the EWA logo. Allison smiles for the camera, microphone in hand.)

Allison Haines: Ladies and gentlemen, joining me at this time is the man who steps into the Asylum tonight to defend his EWA World Heavyweight Championship…Michael Draven.

(The NYSWF Memorial Arena explodes in cheers as Draven steps into frame, already dressed for action and with the EWA World Heavyweight Championship slung over his shoulder. He leans down toward the microphone as Allison begins to speak.)

Allison Haines: Michael, moments ago you shared some words with the former Masochist of HATE, William West. What exactly went on out there?

Michael Draven: Did you see him run, Allison? He slipped away like the fucking serpent he is, but Indrid Calder, you’re a marked man now. There’s no running away, there’s no escaping…there’s no waiting around for you to strike. Beginning tonight, I take this issue between us into my own hands. As for William West…with all due respect, William, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. And if you have a problem with that? Step on up, lunatic.

Allison Haines: Moving on, Michael, tonight you face perhaps your biggest challenge to date as you defend your championship against the three competitors you met at Live From Sydney…only this time, it’ll take place inside the most feared structure in the EWA…the Asylum. How do you prepare for such a match?

(Draven chuckles, shaking his head.)

Michael Draven: Allison…the truth is, I’ve been preparing my whole life for something like this. I’m not supposed to be standing here, you see. I was never the man that people looked at and said, “That guy right there, he’s a future World Heavyweight Champion”. I spent the formidable years of my career competing on this very ground, right here in the NYSWF Arena…

(The crowd erupts once again, as Draven cracks a slight smile before continuing.)

Michael Draven: …and I had many opportunities to become World Heavyweight Champion. More than a few of those were against Alexander Haven, the man who owns this company. And every time I stepped into the ring with that title on the line…I lost. Some by hook, some by crook, but the fact is…I always came up short.

I came back to the ring after my injury with one goal on my mind. Draw Indrid Calder out of his self-imposed exile and end his career. Half of that mission is complete…but along the way, I did the unthinkable. I did what all the pundits and critics said Michael Draven could never do – I defeated Alexander Haven. I became champion. And those are things I worked for years and years to accomplish, Allison. So you ask me how I’m preparing for the Asylum? The simple fact is that I’m wrestling on borrowed time. I’m not getting any younger, and I’ve got a leg that still aches like you wouldn’t believe every night. Sooner or later, my time’s going to be up. But until then, Allison?

I will do whatever it takes to keep this championship. This is the symbol of my life’s work. I may have another goal to accomplish before I’m done as it pertains to that soot-colored son of a bitch, but tonight? When it comes to Grace Goeren, when it comes to NOTHING, and yes, even when it comes to Sahara, I’m going to–

Sahara: You’re going to what?

(Entering the scene, the Crimson Queen in full ring attire – now complete with a smattering of red war paint swiped across her eye and a number of Nordic style braids – pulls the mic Allison is holding closer to her face.)

Sahara: Couple of things, sweetie, you did defeat Alexander Haven and become the EWA World Champion … after I trained and rehabbed you.

(Holding up a hand signifying her sarcastic request for silence from the champion, Sahara turns toward Allison.)

Sahara: Allison, you know how many opportunities I’ve had to become the World Heavyweight Champion? I mean, we just heard my loving man talk about the number of opportunities he’s had.

(She turns back toward her husband, a scowl on her face.)

Sahara: Exactly one. ONE! And it was ruined by interference, referees, and fucking clown acts like the oh so funny Angry Panda. Tonight, I ain’t here to placate fans of a defunct organization nobody cares about or pat myself on the back and take credit where none is due — I said it earlier tonight, and I’ll say it again — the EWA is mine.

(Taking a step closer to her husband, she screams a single word in his face.)

Sahara: MINE!!!

(Michael Draven remains calm, not flinching during Sahara’s scream. He looks down at her for a moment, then leans in, quickly kissing her on the forehead.)

Michael Draven: We’ll see about that, dear.

(Attempting to stifle a smile, Allison bites her lower lip as the Crimson Queen grits her teeth and Michael walks away. She suddenly smacks herself on the forehead and furiously wipes the area he kissed, a look of seething anger in her eyes.)

Sahara: Don’t say a fucking word, Allison.

(Fade to ringside.)



Nikki Rogers: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall and it’s for the EWA Network Championship!

The crowd roars for the pending Network title defense.

NR: Introducing first, the challenger, from Richmond, Virginia, the legendary Jester Smilessss!


The entryway begins to fill with green and purple fog as “Emperor’s New Clothes” by Panic at the Disco begins to play as the various titles and trophies throughout Jester’s career cycle through on the jumbotron.


A platform shoots Jester Smiles up as gold and silver sparks cover the entryway! Jester stands there a moment, looking out at the crowd. He then extends both his fists out and looks up at the sky!


Slowly, he removes his golden jester mask and tosses it into the crowd before leaping for the guard rails, high fiving and hugging as many fans as possible. He then runs for the other side of the aisleway and repeats this.

VA: This is … quite the entrance.

MM: He’s giving the fans what they want, Ashe, it’s about damn time someone around here does it!

VA: Sex sells, Malone, not sparklers and high-fives.

MM: Tell that to the kids.

VA: Who the hell would let their kids watch this show?!

Jester continues to take his sweet time getting to the ring, high fiving and interacting with as many fans as possible. When he finally reaches the bottom of the ramp, he holds his hands out and does a sprint around the entire ring, high fiving the mass of extended hands as quickly as possible. When he gets to the front of ring he leaps onto the apron in one jump before climbing into the ring between the top and middle ropes. Once in the ring he goes to the corner and holds both arms out, taking in the cheers of the fans. He then goes to the opposite corner, takes off his trademark “Legends Never Die” shirt and throws it into the crowd.

Jester, having sufficiently warmed up the crowd, now does some shadow boxing and practice knees and kicks to warm up as he awaits his opponent.

NR: And his opponent, from right here in Albany, New York — the reigning EWA Network Champion, The Banshee, Maggie McIntyre!

The crowd, clearly behind the Network Champion and hometown girl, explodes in a frenzy of cheers as the opening notes of AFI’s “Miss Murder” reverberate throughout the arena and the lights begin to flicker to the fun loving beat.


The Banshee, Maggie McIntyre, appears at the top of the rampway dressed in a tight black top, buckled corset and fishnets tucked into knee high boots, Network Championship strapped firmly around her waist. She begins to stride down the ramp, her long black hair bouncing with every movement.


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 unstraps the EWA Network title from around her waist and nods across the ring at her opponent, Jester Smiles.

Referee Juan Cardillo steps forward and takes possession of her coveted prize and holds it up for all to see.

MM: Good lord, what’s wrong now, Ashe?

VA: Well, at least that wasn’t a three hour entrance like Smiles–

MM: But? What’s on yer mind, Ashe? Spit it out…

VA: Do you think her and Sahara do it?

An audible sigh can be heard.

MM: I’m not going to dignify that with a response. It’s–it’s ridiculous.

VA: Oh, come on, everybody’s wondering it.

MM: We got a huge title match about to happen right before our very eyes, and the only question you can ask is if her and her — wife — do it?! You are unbelievable…

Running over the rules for a clean match, Jester Smiles extends a hand in a display of pure sportsmanship, which Maggie gladly accepts.

VA: Fine, if that’s what you want — these two make me sick. Who the hell shakes hands before they try to kick each others asses?!

MM: How about good, fair minded competitors?

VA: Whatever.

As Juan Cardillo signals for the bell, the match is underway with McIntyre and Smiles slowly circling each other, both sporting a bit of a smirk. The crowd grows louder with each time they circle one another, the two finally lock up and Jester quickly gains the upper hand out of sheer size differential. Backing McIntyre up into the turnbuckles, Jester puts both hands up and takes a few steps backwards, breaking clean.

MM: Maggie’s not going to be able to have a traditional match here, she likely did that lockup out of respect, but it can’t be her strategy based on the sheer size advantage Jester has–

Coming out of the corner, Maggie goes to tie up again, only ducks beneath the lockup and grabs Jester around the waist. Struggling to lift his immense weight, the Banshee somehow finds a way, planting Jester on the canvas. Rolling off, Maggie uses the ropes to gain a bit of momentum and follows it up with a dropkick just as Jester was getting to his knees, taking him down again.

Thinking better of getting up, Jester rolls beneath the bottom rope to the outside for a breather.

VA: You were right, and Maggie realized it. She can’t just go in with the traditional tie-ups, but she’s going to have to utilize her obvious speed advantage over the much larger, not to mention older Jester Smiles.

MM: And a crafty veteran in his own right, Jester knew she was gaining momentum and got out of dodge just long enough to slow her down.

Slowly climbing back onto the ring apron, as Juan Cardillo motions for Jester to get back into the ring, Jester steps one foot through the ropes, followed by the other. Without wasting any time, Maggie charges with a running knee to Jester, a glancing blow that still knocks Jester off the ropes he was standing near. Sizing up him, Maggie charges off the ropes again with a big cross body splash into the turnbuckles–JESTER CATCHES HER!

MM: Woah, woah, woah!


Rolling off Maggie McIntyre, Jester grabs his lower back as Maggie tries to fill her lungs with air.

MM: That’s about what this is going to be, speed versus power — and Jester had the wherewithal from the relentless Network champion to catch her mid air right there.

VA: That was a big move.

Going for the cover, Juan Cardillo jumps into position–
















VA: It was a nice move, but one powerslam isn’t gonna put McIntyre away.

MM: Yes, but Jester knows every bit of energy she expends is energy she no longer has. You can tell by his expression he wasn’t expecting to win, but I gotta feeling that pinfall attempt did exactly what it was designed to do.

Back to his knees, Jester pushes himself to his feet and he grabs Maggie by the neck and powers her up. Hitting McIntyre with a quick snap suplex, Jester rolls through and powers her back up for a second, and on the third roll through, Jester lifts her into a standing vertical suplex!

MM: What power.

VA: Wow. It’s rare to see big men do big mens moves in this era. It’s refresh—OHHHH!

Dropping down, McIntyre bounces off the canvas and instantly rolls herself toward the ropes.

MM: But don’t sell the Network champion short, she hasn’t lost a match in I don’t know how long because of her speed and smarts, not because she overpowers anyone.

Walking over to where Maggie is lying beneath the ropes, Jester reaches over the top to the outside and lifts Maggie up — KNEE TO THE GUT! Doubling the unsuspecting Jester over, Maggie grabs him by the back of the neck and drops, slinging his neck over the top rope, Maggie drops to the outside!

Reaching in through the bottom rope, Maggie grabs the reeling Jester Smiles ankle and trips him up, yanking him to the outside.

MM: Using the ring to her advantage. Very crafty, Ashe.

Shoving Jester up against the ring apron, her larger opponent grabs his lower back and drops to a knee. Backing up toward the staircase, the Banshee takes a running start and leaps with a knee — JESTER MOVES and in mid-air grabs Maggie by her shoulders and slams her down!! Landing on her back on the unforgiving padded outside, Maggie rolls to her side in pain.

MM: That knocked the wind right out of her!

VA: Great awareness there to avoid that running kneelift and turning it into something of a modified slingblade.

Slowly getting to his feet, Jester lifts Maggie up and throws up her against the ring apron — by this time, Juan Cardillo leans through the ropes and commands both wrestlers to get back into the ring. Waving off Cardillo, Smiles takes a quick jab at McIntyre, who fires back with a staggering right of her own!






Smiles returns a right, and a left!

Maggie returns fire with an elbow to the side of Jester’s face, staggering the big man.






MM: These two are goin’ at it!

VA: That elbow shot staggered him, Malone — that hit flush.

Charging forward with Jester’s backwards momentum, Maggie shoves him up against the ringside barricade.






As Maggie collapses on Jester, he fires off another right, followed by a left. Grabbing Maggie, he throws her up against the ringside barricade, swapping positions with her. Backing up, Jester charges forward and both topple over the barricade into the fans!

MM: A sea of humanity!

VA: What the hell is going on here?!






As the fans spread out and security tries to safeguard the area, Jester smiles grabs the much smaller Maggie McIntyre and sends her sprawling against a row of chairs evacuated by the ringside fans.






As Jester goes to grab Maggie, she springs up onto one of the chairs and hits him with a sit down dropkick sending Smiles slamming back into the barricade with a thud!

MM: Wow!

VA: Malone, she hit the back of her head off one of those chairs when she dropped kicked him there!






Holding the back of her head as Jester slowly scrambles to gain his footing, the fans collapsing around them in the excitement get shoved back by security as Jester snatches up Maggie and sends her sprawling back over the barricade. Stepping over, he grabs Maggie and yanks her head in between his legs!!!



Lifting Maggie, she kicks her legs out and drops back down, her feet touching the floor — BACK BODY DROP!







VA: Maggie’s back gave out there, she’s taken some serious punishment here tonight!

Grabbing her lower back from the sheer weight of Jester Smiles she somehow lifted up and over, the Banshee collapses back and stumbles over Jester Smiles who rolls to his side.






Getting to his feet, Jester nearly stumbles as he stumbles into the ringside apron, his ribs crushing against the unforgiving ring–

MM: He might have this!

VA: You can’t win the title via countout, Malone!

Grabbing hold of the bottom rope, Jester sweeps one leg up onto the ring while clutching his ribs to roll beneath the bottom rope!

MM: I don’t think he cares, he wants the victory, and I don’t blame him!!!






MM: You spoke of making statements, Ashe? Imagine beating the reigning EWA Network Champion by countout!

Attempting to roll himself up into the ring, Maggie makes a desperation leap forward!





Waving both hands, Juan Cardillo calls for the bell as Maggie McIntyre hangs off of Jester’s leg on the outside–


NR: This match has been declared a double countout–

MM: So close, yet so far away!

VA: She wouldn’t have lost the title either way, but Maggie refused to give up the victory.

MM: Wow, Ashe, Jester Smiles is the first person to hand Maggie McIntyre anything other than a victory in MONTHS. There’s big things on the horizon for Jester Smiles, I believe!

VA: I hope not, Malone. There’s only so much I can take of this clown. Pun intended.

MM: (sighs)




MM: And now it’s time, ladies and gentlemen…the EWA World Heavyweight Championship.

VA: And even more importantly, folks…the Asylum.

MM: By order of Stacy Vandervort, this Asylum is going to work a bit differently than they have in the past. Already locked in their respective pods, Maggie McIntyre, William West, Indrid Calder, and Alice will NOT factor into the outcome of this match. I think this is a fabulous idea after the debacle we had in Sydney.

VA: I’m inclined to agree as in such a match, it’s already hard enough on the competitors to deal with each other without having to worry about constant interference.

MM: And after the referees falling like dominos, that rule change isn’t the only one Mrs. Vandervort has in store–

NR: Ladies and gentlemen, the special guest referee for this evening–

VA: Wait, I don’t have any changes on my prog–

Before Vince can finish his statement, the arena becomes pitch black, minus a few cell phone lights scattered throughout the crowd.

VA: I can’t see anything, Malone…

As the murmur of the crowd begins to grow, attempting to figure out what’s happening, a distinctive, marching-like war beat begins to blare over the loudspeakers in the arena, as immediately, the roar that emanates from the crowd almost completely drowns out the music in the arena. Even the two announcers can barely be heard…

MM: No way… is it…?

VA: What? Can you see something? I have no clue wha…

Dim red and yellow lights, mimicking flames, begin to pop up, starting at the top of the entrance ramp, and making their way down the ramp to the sound of the rhythmic beat that begins to get louder and louder over the speakers, until that final crescendo… and….






MM: OH…. MY…. GOD!!!

VA: Oh boy….

A single spotlight shines down on the center of the entrance ramp, where a very prominent figure slowly strides through the curtain to stand in the middle of the spotlight, head down, donning the black and white referee’s shirt… but the head wear of the figure gives it all away as the eruption from the crowd is deafening…

MM: Nikki’s made the announcement, Vince, and I’ll be damned if anyone heard here… but ladies and gentlemen, Grady Smith has returned to the EWA… but more importantly, Grady Smith has returned home… to the NYSWF Arena!

VA: Damnit, I should have known… They said it was going to be a clear sky tonight…

“Dogs of War” by Pink Floyd continues to play over the arena’s speaker system as Grady stands out on the stage, looking out at the capacity crowd, hands placed firmly on his hips. The grin on Grady’s face stretches ear to ear as he removes his hat briefly with his right hand, just enough to tip his cap to the crowd as the chants of “GRA-DY!” echo from all corners of the arena. He places the hat back on his head before he makes his way down the ramp towards the ominous Asylum structure.

MM: If there was anyone in the world that’s capable of keeping law and order inside the Asylum tonight, Vince, having competed with and against almost everyone that’ll be inside that steel structure tonight, Grady is more than up for the challenge.

VA: He might be up for the challenge, but that might only be because he won another challenge earlier in the night with some little blue pill… or in his case, probably a lot of different pills!

MM: Would you stop!

VA: Why quit now?

Grabbing hold of the steel structure, Grady Smith looks up at the sheer size of it before shaking the wall of the chamber. Stepping through the reinforced steel door, Grady walks the catwalk on the outside of the ring, and stops at each one of the pods, checking the latches on the sliding roof panels to make sure they’re sealed tight, pausing to take a good look at each of the individuals inside the cells. Satisfied with the results, Grady moves swiftly toward the ring stepping through the ropes, the crowd still cheering his surprise appearance.

With the crowd still buzzing, Nikki goes to make her first announcement, bringing the microphone up to her face. This rowdy crowd, though, continues to effectively drown her out. Before making a second attempt at starting her announcements, Grady walks over to Ms. Rogers and whispers something in her ear before she smiles and hands over the microphone.

VA: Referees should be seen and not heard, Malone. Or are we just going to let him take over this entire main event? Hell, why don’t we just add him to the match, too?

Grady goes to begin to speak as well, but the chants for Grady build back up as loud as they were when he first stepped onto the ramp. Grady smiles, a small tear runs down his cheek as he pauses for another couple seconds, before raising his hand in the air…

Grady Smith: Guys… wow…

Grady takes a deep breath as the chants just continue, almost as if the crowd is trying to drown him out in their ovation..

Grady Smith: This… this is incredible, thank you!

“THANK YOU GRA-DY!” *clap, clap, clap clap clap…*
“THANK YOU GRA-DY!” *clap, clap, clap clap clap…*
“THANK YOU GRA-DY!” *clap, clap, clap clap clap…*

Grady Smith: No… no… thank YOU, Albany! Don’t thank me… thank yourselves, because I’ve been in the back the entire night, and to hear this crowd, this noise, this enthusiasm that has gone on all night… I mean, I’m at a loss for words here!

VA: Thank god.

MM: We wish you were at a loss for words at times.

VA: What was that?

MM: Oh, nothing.

Grady Smith: When this place closed up almost fifteen years ago… (crowd boos…LOUDLY) … I wasn’t here at the time, but when I heard that this arena was closing, I’ll admit that there was a part of me that felt like it had died that day.

VA: Just a part…?

Grady Smith: So to come back into this city, walk around downtown Albany and to walk back into the loudest, craziest place I have probably ever been to… (crowd pops… LOUDLY) … and to hear all of you chanting for Grady Smith one more time…

VA: Can this guy ever NOT be about himself???

Grady Smith: … that feeling sends shivers down my spine! And damn it feels good to be home!

The crowd erupts, beginning a chant of “WEL-COME HOME!” in unison.

Grady Smith: But…. (putting his hand in the air) … But… tonight… tonight is not about me.

VA: Good to see he’s finally figured it out!

Grady Smith: It’s not about Grady Smith. It’s about these four competitors that are about to step into this… Asylum… and put everything on the line tonight. For you fans… and for the most prestigious prize in our business today, the EWA World Heavyweight Championship!

Another crowd pop because, of course, right?

Grady Smith: I’m here tonight to make sure that what happened in Sydney stays there… because YOU PEOPLE deserve a champion. It’s a title that I hold a deep respect for… one that after twenty years in this business, I finally had a chance to wear earlier this year. But tonight, there are four incredibly worthy individuals that will step into this structure and prove to not only each other, but to all of you, that they deserve to wear that championship. Tonight, someone will walk out of here with the honor… and the privilege… to call themselves the EWA World Heavyweight Champion, and they will have earned it. That’s why I’m here… to give you people a guarantee that we will have a finish tonight, and that whomever wins the match tonight, they will have earned the right to call themselves the World Heavyweight Champion. Now, if you don’t mind, Nikki… let’s give these fine people of Albany New York a main event!

Grady walks over, handing the microphone back to Nikki.

MM: A personal guarantee from the legend himself!

VA: Stacy’s pulling out all the stops to make sure this goes off without a hitch. Wait, did he say fine people of Albany?

Nikki Rogers smiles towards Grady, before lifting the microphone to her lips.

NR: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest, scheduled for one fall, is the Asylum match! And it is for…the EWA World Heavyweight Championship!

The crowd roars in approval at the announcement.

MM: Indeed, unlike the standard Asylum matches we’ve seen, this will not be held under elimination rules–

VA: There’s nothing standard about the Asylum, Malone! It’s a barbaric structure meant to maim and cripple. These four had better be ready for a world of pain.

NR: Introducing first–


NR: From Chicago Illinois, weighing in at 176 pounds, the Crimson Queen Goddess Supreme, Saharaaaaa!

Stepping out onto the rampway, donning black and silver full length tights and a matching strappy black top over a sports bra, Sahara stands beneath the blinding light. As the lights dim, her intricately braided hair is pulled back, revealing a swath of crimson paint swiped over her left eye.

MM: She looks ready for a war!

VA: What she looks like is a Valkyrie, Malone, and you know this is her taking another shot at Josh Kaine, ‘The Heir to Valhalla’, who she assaulted earlier in the night along with Rick Remington!

MM: We haven’t forgotten, Ashe. Sahara said that starting tonight, the EWA was hers, and she made it clear she wasn’t waiting around any longer to inherit the right, but she was gonna take it by force.

VA: If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times, this woman doesn’t care about anyone other than herself.

MM: Love her or hate her, Ashe, Maggie McIntyre and Michael Draven would probably disagree.

VA: That’s because Michael Draven and Maggie McIntyre are idiots.

Looking up at the ominous structure as she heads down the rampway, her eyes remain focused on the sheer size of the intimidating steel structure before her, taking in the majesty of it all. Grabbing hold of the cage, she climbs up a few feet and shakes it for all to see before dropping back down to the floor below. Taking a deep breath, she slowly makes her way up the steps on the center of the structure through the open door, stepping onto the steel grated catwalk before climbing through the ropes and into the ring.

Grady Smith immediately approaches the Crimson Queen and motions her to a neutral corner.

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

NR: And introducing next, from Albany, New York, weighing in at 250 pounds, The Purveyor of HATE … NOOOOOTHING!

The lights suddenly cut as the arena descends into a lasting darkness as Placebo’s ‘Without You I’m Nothing’ begins to play. The jumbotron springs to life, as a blackened twisted video plays as a faint spotlight drops down on the entrance, NOTHING already standing beneath it. His head slowly rises as the word NOTHING displays on the screen and he looks across the sea of fans. Slowly walking down the rampway, NOTHING also checks out the magnitude of the steel structure before him, as both Sahara and Grady had already done.

MM: Fans, you’ll see each of these competitors look at this menacing structure, even those that have been in it before. In person, it’s even bigger and more intimidating than it looks on the screen, I guarantee it. This cell is going to lock four fierce competitors into a ring against each other, with nobody getting in, and nobody getting out in a match where anything goes.

VA: You have to be somewhat crazy to even get into this profession let alone being willing to step foot inside that thing.

Stepping into the cage, NOTHING makes his way into the ring and Grady Smith once again motions him directly to a neutral corner as Sahara eyes him from across the ring. The Purveyor briefly shares a knowing look with Indrid Calder, locked within his cell, before focusing his attention squarely on the Crimson Queen.

The other EWA stars, locked in their respective pods begin to rattle their cage doors, prompting both NOTHING and Sahara to turn their heads and look to each of them.

VA: Rats in a cage, Malone. Imagine the tension they must feel. Not only will they be locked in that big cage together, all vying for the same prize, but the thought lingering in the back of their minds — what if one of those rabid dogs locked in those pods somehow escapes and it’s not one of their allies?! Imagine, if you will, if Alice somehow gets out–

MM: Disaster for anyone not named Grace.

VA: Exactly, Malone, and they’re all going to be feeling it throughout this match.

MM: This is nuts, even Nikki looks nervous!

NR: Ladies and gentlemen, from Dortmund, Germany, The God Queen of professional wrestling … Grrrrrrace Goeren!

“Chaos Royale” by the Sister Sin hits the arena’s loudspeakers as Grace Goeren makes her way out from behind the curtain. The crowd boos as she glares out at them, giving a bit of a quick smirk and a shake of the head. Donning a white t-shirt featuring a purple cross ermine design with a pair of purple MMA combat gloves and a matching compression top. The letters “GG” are printed on the sides of her Diablo boxing shoes.

She holds her hands up high, waving on the fans absolute hatred but foregoes her usual banter with the crowd and instead focuses on the steel structure before her. Stepping into the cage, Grace shoots Sahara a look of absolute disdain as she climbs the catwalk and steps into the ring. She’s immediately blocked off by Grady Smith stepping in her way as she made a motion to move toward the former right hand of the Fallout.

MM: There is no love lost between those two, that’s for sure.

VA: And there shouldn’t be. Sahara is a heretic of the church of Grace, and deserves everything she’s about to get tonight. Praise Grace.

MM: Grace would be wise to remember there are three other competitors in this match, and not allow her outright hatred for the Crimson Queen blind her.

Shoving Grace toward a third neutral corner, Grady Smith points at Grace and says something to her in a rather stern fashion as she backs up toward the turnbuckles.

MM: Grady keeping order just as he promised.

NR: And last but not least, from Charlotte, North Carolina, weighing in at 250 pounds, the reigning, undisputed EWA World Heavyweight Champion, Michaelllll Draven!

MM: Listen to this reaction!

VA: Never mind the reaction, Malone, look at the scowl on Sahara’s face! Isn’t she supposed to be his wife?!

MM: Jealously unbecoming, Ashe.

The lights drop on the rampway as a red hue gives way to ‘The Vengeful One’ from Disturbed as a pulsing strobe effect lights up the entryway. To raucous cheers, the World Champion emerges from the back, his motions shrouded in shadow from the pulsating light. Unstrapping the world title from around his waist, he holds it up high for all to see, staring down the rampway at his opponents already standing inside the steel structure.

Walking down the rampway, he slings the championship belt over his shoulder, a look of absolute determination on his face as he approaches the cage. Stopping just outside of the reinforced door, he grabs the steel grating with one hand and shakes the cage, giving off a simple nod of approval. Stepping into the cage, the World Champion climbs atop the mesh catwalk and slowly turns from NOTHING, to Grace, and finally to his wife … Sahara, who returns a steely eyed glare.

VA: Oh, it’s on tonight, Malone! I can feel the tension from here…this is gonna be crazy.

MM: My broadcast colleague isn’t kidding. This just feels … on a completely different level. Just when you think the EWA can’t get any better, Stacy Vandervort takes the Asylum and makes it even better.

The four athletes stare at one another, cold looks of determination plastered on their faces, and the celled wrestlers continue to rattle the mesh fencing of their pods as Grady Smith barks out his final instructions. Grady calls for the bell…and as it rings, all four warriors simultaneously make their move!

VA: Here we go, Malone!

MM: And much like Sydney, we’re starting off the same, with NOTHING teeing off on the champion in one corner while Grace and Sahara exchange some brutal punches in the opposite corner.

Michael Draven gains the early advantage on NOTHING, driving him back with hard rights before whipping him across the ring. NOTHING comes back on the rebound, and Draven lowers his head, attempting to backdrop the Purveyor over the ropes and onto the steel catwalk of the Asylum, but NOTHING catches Draven flush with a kick to the face , driving the champion back into the ropes. NOTHING gets a head of steam, and races toward Draven, clotheslining him over the top rope and onto the catwalk!

MM: Did you hear the sound of Michael Draven’s body hitting that steel catwalk! Unbelievable!

VA: This is a modified version of the Asylum, folks, and it looks to be even more dangerous than the last one, especially with the side of the ring that doesn’t have that thick steel!

MM: You think that the side of the ring that doesn’t have a catwalk is the most dangerous side?

VA: That’s right, Malone, because who knows what’s underneath that ring that one of these lunatics can bring into the match and try to harm our God Queen!

Meanwhile, Sahara has been driven into the corner by Grace Goeren, who currently is using her boot to choke out the Crimson Queen against the turnbuckles. Grace has a manic look in her eyes, as she releases the hold, walking toward the center of the ring before quickly turning around, and racing toward Sahara, leaping at the blonde and driving a shoulder into her abdomen. As Sahara slumps to the mat in the corner, Grace grabs her by the chin, screaming in her face.


MM: Grace Goeren, never one at a loss for words, ladies and gentlemen.


Alice bellows down from her pod at the fallen Sahara, laughing hysterically and taunting the blonde as Grace turns around to see NOTHING slam Draven’s face into the steel cage out on the catwalk. The Purveyor stands over the fallen Draven on the catwalk, then quickly pulls him back to his feet, pushing his head against the cage and grinding the champion’s face against the steel mesh!

MM: The Harbinger of HATE is on a mission, ladies and gentlemen, and that mission is pain and torture.

VA: If Grace weren’t in this match, Malone, I’d put money down on NOTHING. He looks more focused and determined than ever before.

Satisfied with what she sees, Grace turns back toward Sahara, snarling as she approaches the blonde, but Sahara pulls herself up by using the top rope for leverage, pistoning her foot out and kicking Grace squarely in the stomach. Grace staggers back, and Sahara lunges forward…only to be FLUNG backwards into the turnbuckle…

VA: What the hell!

MM: It’s Alice! Alice has a fistful of Sahara Nordic-styled braids in Sahara’s hair!

Indeed, the prized student and minion of Grace Goeren has yanked a screaming Sahara backwards into the turnbuckle by her braids, a big pawful of it into the cage. Alice guffaws with laughter as she yanks back, whiplashing Sahara backwards as Grace goes to work on the blonde with a flurry of punches and kicks!

MM: This shouldn’t be legal!

And indeed, Grady Smith is on the catwalk standing right against the pod, yelling at Alice to release the hold, to no avail…and finally Grady drives a fist down repeatedly on Alice’s hand, hammering away at it until she finally releases her grip on Sahara’s hair! And now Grace Goeren gets right into the legend’s face, with only the ring ropes separating the two of them!

MM: This could get really ugly, really fast, ladies and gentlemen…despite being retired, Grady Smith looks to be in peak physical condition. And that’s why Stacy Vandervort named him as tonight’s referee. She wanted someone in there that these four warriors couldn’t throw around at will!

VA: Don’t underestimate the God Queen’s strength, Mal–HEY!

From out of nowhere, NOTHING grabs Grace’s waist from behind, lifting her up and back into a bridged German suplex! Grady quickly ducks under the ropes, sliding into position for the first cover of the night!















GRACE KICKS OUT! And the Purveyor shoots a cold glare at his long-time rival, clearly taking issue with Grady not being in position initially for the cover.

MM: These two are certainly no strangers to one another, Vincent, with many of their epic battles taking place right here on the grounds of the former NYSWF Arena.

VA: Not to mention their battle last year in the epic HATE vs Youth war, Malone.

NOTHING finally breaks the stare, taking a moment to glance toward Michael Draven, who’s still on the catwalk outside after having his head rammed repeatedly into the cage. The Purveyor moves toward Sahara, grabbing her by the hand…

MM: He…he just pulled her to her feet?!

VA: What the hell?

MM: I think we may be seeing an alliance forming here between…NOTHING and Sahara, of all people?

The two warriors are having a discussion, with NOTHING pointing toward Grace. Sahara listens, wincing as she holds the back of her head from Alice pulling at her braids. Maggie McIntyre and William West, locked in their pods, yell out toward Sahara, trying to advise her not to listen to the Purveyor…but Indrid Calder catches her glance from his pod. His eyes seem to bore through her, and he shrugs his shoulders, almost in a look of indifference, before making a “belt” gesture around his waist. Sahara looks back toward Prudence, before stepping forward and dragging the God Queen to her feet…and holding her up for NOTHING!

MM: And listen to these people, folks! They’re clearly undecided on what to think here! They don’t like the idea of this tenuous alliance between Sahara and NOTHING, but they hate Grace Goeren just as much!

VA: Traitorous heathens!

NOTHING goes to work on Grace, peppering her with fists as Alice wails away from her pod. William West and Maggie McIntyre shake the fencing of their pods in frustration as Sahara and NOTHING send Grace flying into the ropes, taking her down with a double clothesline, hands linked. NOTHING motions for Sahara to pull Grace up, and as the blonde does so, the Purveyor hits the ropes, coming back at blistering speed…


But before he even has time to react, NOTHING turns straight into a superkick from Sahara, landing squarely on the jaw of the Purveyor and delighting the crowd! NOTHING crumbles to the ground as Sahara flashes a wicked smile down at him, briefly catching the eye of Indrid Calder, locked inside his pod, who maintains his emotionless posture, observing from afar.

VA: That’s the thing about these alliances, Malone. Just like Highlander, there can be only one winner, and sooner or later someone realizes that.

Sahara looks toward Maggie’s pod, shrugging, and then drops to the ground, hooking the God Queen’s leg!















TH–Michael Draven breaks up the count, rolling Sahara off of Grace!

VA: Here we go, Malone!

The crowd begins to buzz as Sahara pops up to her feet, glaring at the World Heavyweight Champion she shares her life with. Sahara’s arms begin to tremble as Draven yells out to her, and she doesn’t hesitate to respond by way of a hard shove, sending Draven staggering back. Sahara turns toward Grace again, but Michael Draven, having none of that, grabs her by the shoulder, spinning her around…and she immediately launches a kick toward his lower region…but Draven catches her foot!

MM: She just tried to kick her own man where the sun doesn’t shine! What a —

VA: Malone, I think it was an accident! She didn’t know it was him!

Indeed, Sahara has her hands folded, pleading with Draven to let her go…but all at once, she leaps off with her other foot, aiming for an enzuigiri to the back of Draven’s head. But Michael Draven’s prepared this time, and he swiftly ducks the kick, which sends Sahara to the ground. Draven quickly grabs Sahara by the ankles, stepping through…

VA: Malone?! Is he putting a sharpshooter on his own wife?! What a piece of garbage Michael Draven is!

MM: It’s everyone for themselves in the Asylum, Vince, you know that!

Sahara screams out in pain as Draven sits down on the sharpshooter, clawing desperately at the mat trying to reach the ropes. Grady Smith is in position, asking Sahara to submit, and the blonde writhes in pain as Draven keeps the submission cinched in.

VA: This is unbelievable, Malone!

Sahara is just inches from the rope, but Draven has the ring presence to drag her back out toward the middle! But as he sits back down on the hold, GRACE GOEREN flips over him from behind, catching him by the head on her descent and snapping it forward, causing him to break the hold. The angry God Queen begins to stomp away at the World Heavyweight Champion, before grabbing Sahara, dragging her to her feet and flinging her over the top rope. Sahara lands hard on the floor below, as Grace threw her over the side of the ring without the catwalk surrounding it.


MM: Micha–


MM: Okay, knock it off with th–



VA: ….praisegrace

MM: (sighs)

Sahara crawls over to the edge of the cage on the outside of the ring, resting against the back of it as she looks up at Indrid Calder’s pod. Calder, from inside his pod, sits down, crossing his legs and staring down at the Crimson Queen, motionless and expressionless, and Sahara stands up slowly, taking a couple of steps in Calder’s direction. Meanwhile, Grace stomps away at Michael Draven before dragging him to his feet, whipping him into the ropes – but Draven reverses the Irish whip, swinging a hard clothesline at Grace. Grace ducks the clothesline, however, and as her momentum continues to carry her, she dives THROUGH the ropes, crashing into Sahara and sending both former Fallout members straight into the wall of the cage!


VA: Did you see the cage wall shake when they hit, Malone?!


Sahara and Grace lie motionless, sprawled out against the side of the Asylum’s wall after Grace’s suicide dive. Michael Draven looks out over the top rope, and after a moment, moves to turn back toward the downed NOTHING…

…and comes face to face with Indrid Calder, locked inside his pod.

Calder simply stares at Draven, his ice-cold blue eyes cutting through Draven’s very being. Draven grabs the pod’s grating, shaking at it and pointing toward Calder, fury painted all over his face. Calder, meanwhile, simply takes one small step backward, and suddenly, his lips curl into the faintest visage of a smile…




















VA: We almost had a new World Heavyweight Champion right there, Malone!!

NOTHING and Draven quickly get to their feet, and Draven rushes at NOTHING, but the Purveyor catches him with a stiff right, knocking him backwards. NOTHING kicks the adversary of HATE in the stomach, grabbing Draven by the leg and neck…

VA: Spineshank!!

MM: NOTHING’s patented fisherman’s swinging neckbreaker! We haven’t seen that move in…I don’t know how long, Vincent!

VA: NOTHING’s on familiar ground, folks…he’s a former five-time NYSWF World Heavyweight Champion, and he’s trying to win his first EWA World Heavyweight Championship here tonight!

NOTHING covers the leg, and Grady’s in position this time for the count!





















MM: And again, NOTHING shoots daggers with his eyes at our referee, Grady Smith, and this time I think he’s off-base. The cadence on the count was even, and Michael Draven kicked out, folks.

VA: Unlikely. Grady probably pulled every muscle in his back just getting down there to make that count. Speed it up, old man!

Maggie McIntyre is frantic in her pod, looking up at the sliding door and pacing back and forth in the small confined space. William West, meanwhile, is watching the action intently from his pod, as NOTHING pulls Draven up to his feet. Sahara slides into the ring, but actually ignores the action altogether, crawling to the side of the ring and rolling onto the catwalk.

VA: What the hell is she doing? Sahara, you’ve never been one to run away from getting some action!

MM: That…that was a stretch even for you.

VA: Sahara’s used to getting stretched. Is that better?

MM: Yes–I mean, no! Dammit, Vincent!

VA: I love this job.

NOTHING drags Draven to a kneeling position, and looks out at the capacity crowd, reveling in the HATE from the Albany fans. NOTHING takes off, bouncing against the ropes, clearly looking for Pure HATE…but as NOTHING careens toward Draven, Draven quickly jumps to his feet, kicking NOTHING in the stomach and hooking his arms behind his back…


VA: Grace! Do something! Sahara!

Sahara is just starting to pull herself to her feet against the wall of the cage, and Draven makes the cover!






















MM: Oh my god!

VA: I don’t think anyone other than Alexander Haven has ever kicked out of that, Malone!

MM: Could this be NOTHING’s ni–what the hell is Sahara doing?

Outside of the ring on the catwalk, Sahara has begun to climb the cage – however, with the cage having a closed roof, it’s unclear exactly what she’s doing. Meanwhile, Draven slams his hand down on the mat angrily, glaring at Grady Smith, who holds up two fingers to emphasize that there wasn’t a three count. Draven stands up, clearly frustrated, and turns away for a moment…


VA: Did you hear the sound of that chair, Malone? PRAISE GRACE!!!

MM: What a nasty chairshot, and Michael Draven’s head has been split wide open!

Indeed, the blood has begun to flow from Draven’s forehead as he rolls onto the catwalk. Grace snarls down at the fallen champion, before turning toward Alice, nodding and smiling. Grace wedges the chair between the top and second ropes in the corner, and then grabs Prudence, pulling him to his feet. The God Queen grasps Prudence’s hand, sending him shooting toward the corner…but NOTHING reverses it, sending Grace chest first directly into the already dented chair! NOTHING, moving quickly, grabs Grace from behind, setting her up on the top rope right in front of the pod containing, who shrieks in anger and frustration.

MM: NOTHING is pulling out all the stops here tonight, trying to become the EWA World Heavyweight Champion, trying to bring the title home to the Hive of HATE for the second time!

VA: And any other time I’d be rooting him, but the power of Grace will conquer all, Malone! I am a true believer! PRAISE GRACE!!

NOTHING climbs to the second rope, flinging Grace’s arm around his neck, and lifts up high in the air, falling backwards and slamming to the mat with a thunderous noise with a back superplex!


Sahara, meanwhile, has reached the top of the cage, and slowly, carefully, slides her fingers through the fencing at the top, spinning her body around until she’s hanging from the top of the cage.

VA: Malone, forgive my French, but what is that crazy bitch doing?!

MM: I…don’t honestly know, Vincent.

Sahara, hand over hand, begins to traverse across the cage from the ceiling, hanging from the steel mesh like a child playing on the monkey bars at a playground. She reaches a point to where she’s nearly to the center of the ring, her muscles bulging from her arms and sweat beading down her neck, and swings her legs forward.

VA: What the hell is she doing, Malone?

MM: She’s…she’s building momentum, Vincent! Like a gymnast!

VA: Indeed, with each swing, Sahara gains more and more momentum, swinging further forward, using her body as a pendulum. Four hard swings, and Sahara dismounts, releasing her grip on the cage and plummeting from the top of the cage, doing a full backflip in mid-air before landing stomach-first across the prone body of NOTHING!


VA: I can’t believe she nailed it, Malone! That was incredible! A nearly 450 splash off of a dismount from swinging across the top of the cage like a damned chimpanzee!!

MM: And Grady’s there to make the count!


























MM: Incredible!!


Grace Goeren, meanwhile, has slowly rolled onto the catwalk outside the ring, and begins to wearily crawl toward the corner, next to William West’s pod. West begins rattling his cage, and the Masochist grins with glee as he attempts to rattle the God Queen, who turns and flips him off with a middle finger before slowly climbing the ropes in the corner…



…only to have Michael Draven reach over, shoving her off the top rope and crashing her down to the mat below!

MM: Oh my god, ladies and gentlemen…you’ve heard the term “crimson mask” before, and I think we’re all witnessing it first hand. I’ve never seen Michael Draven quite like this!

Indeed, Draven’s face is covered with blood from a wicked gash on his forehead, courtesy of the chairshot from NOTHING. Draven slowly climbs into the ring, picking Grace Goeren up over his head, and press slamming her to the outside on the catwalk! Alice shrieks, as if feeling her God Queen’s own pain, and Draven turns around…



…to see Sahara standing in front of him, steel chair in hand and a scowl on her face.

MM: We’ve been in this position once already, ladies and gentlemen —

VA: But that was before Michael Draven locked her in the sharpshooter, Malone! Payback’s a bitch!

MM: I don’t think Sahara would….surely she wouldn’t…

Indeed, Sahara takes a noticeable step back once she gets a good look at the bloody mess that is Michael Draven. Michael, for his part, doesn’t move forward, but points down to the fallen Grace, imploring words upon Sahara that we can’t quite hear…



….and suddenly out of nowhere Sahara SWINGS THE CHAIR AT DRAVEN’S HEAD! Draven, amazingly, has the reflexes to duck, and the chair cracks against the chest of NOTHING, sending him staggering through the ropes and onto the catwalk on the outside! Draven quickly stands back up, and Sahara begins backing away, trying to explain herself, pointing emphatically to NOTHING on the outside…



….but Michael Draven’s having none of it as he kicks Sahara squarely in the stomach! And the crowd is actually cheering him on after Sahara’s actions! Michael hooks Sahara’s arms behind her back…but Sahara quickly drops to her knees, and uppercuts him square between the legs!

VA: Looks like Sahara’s not getting any action tonight…at least not from that man!

And as Draven hunches over, it’s Sahara that thrusts his head between her legs, hooking his arms…




VA: She used his own move on him!! Incredible, Malone!!

Sahara makes the cover, but before Grady Smith can even get down to make the counter, NOTHING rushes at Sahara, nearly OBLITERATING her with Pure HATE! Sahara collapses backwards, and NOTHING rolls Draven out of the ring and to the floor as he covers Sahara!

























VA: Malone, NOTHING’s eyes…he’s coming unhinged! We haven’t seen this side of him since his war with Jacob Mephisto!

MM: He’s absolutely livid right now, but Sahara’s foot was indeed on the rope!

VA: What kind of stupid rule is a rope break in the Asylum match, Malone? It’s no disqualification!

MM: Indeed, but you can’t make the pin if someone’s on the ropes!

As NOTHING stands up, he slowly surveys the carnage around the ringside area. A downed Michael Draven on the outside. Sahara, laid out in the ring, her black tank top soaked with the blood of her lover. Grace Goeren, recovering slowly on the catwalk outside the ring. NOTHING gets in Grady’s face, screaming at him, and Grady, refusing to back down, emphatically points toward Sahara’s foot on the ropes. NOTHING rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up as he walks toward Grace, and Grady kneels down to check on Sahara…








MM: NOTHING just took Grady Smith’s head off with Pure HATE!!

VA: What an incredible night this has been! PRAISE YOU GRACE FOR MAKING THIS ALL POSSIBLE!!

Grady slumps to the ground, completely out, but before NOTHING can even react, Grace Goeren scrambles behind him, leaping into the air…







MM: But there’s no referee to make the count!!

Grace climbs to her feet, screaming in triumph as everyone’s laid out all around her. Meanwhile, there’s motion from Indrid Calder’s pod, and it seems that Indrid is CLIMBING to the top portion. He produces some sort of rusted lock pick from the gray cloth taped around his wrists, and he grinds it into the locking mechanism that keeps the pod ceiling door in place.

MM: What the hell is Calder doing right now?!?

VA: It was a BAD idea to lock up a Spider King, Malone! He’s been spinning webs and making plays, and now it’s time for his plan to come to fruition!

MM: Draven is laid out, Grady is still plastered across the canvas…Sahara is exhausted and has pulled herself in a seated position, leaning against the ropes, and Grace Goeren is screaming out obscenities at the crowd and relishing the fact that she’s the last woman standing right now!

VA: And Alice is banging away at the mesh on her pod, trying to warn her of the Stranger’s movement!

The lock pops free, and Indrid PULLS himself up to perch like a jumping spider on the rim of the pod’s ceiling. Sahara has caught sight of him, and she watches cautiously. He makes direct eye contact with her…and then he leaps with precision from the top of the pod.

He extends his boot with his downward motion and catches Grace with a VIOLENT curb stomp from the top of the pod! The God Queen wasn’t prepared for the blow and she wasn’t even aware that Calder had gotten out. She crashes down in a sickening splat as his boot smashes into the back of her skull and neck, and her face literally BOUNCES up from the canvas.

Indrid lands gracefully, and he steps over Grace’s trembling body and heads right back into his own pod. He reaches up and locks the ceiling trapdoor again, and then he uses an edged thumbnail to open a small cut on his own palm. He scrubs a finger into this red human ink, and, quickly discarding his shirt, he smears words on his own chest.

He draws Sahara’s attention to them, and her sapphire eyes grow large with want.

“Ascend. Rise. Become.”

“Take what you WANT.”

He motions to Grace as she coughs and sputters, trying to drag herself back to her feet while holding to the back of her neck. It’s almost like Indrid Calder is presenting the wounded God Queen…as a gift.

MM: I can’t believe what we’ve just witnessed! Despite Stacy Vandervort’s best efforts, Indrid Calder has found a way to get involved in this match, and once again he’s helped out Sahara!

VA: And look at McIntyre, shrieking at Calder!

Indeed, the chords stand out on the Banshee’s neck as she screams at the Spider King from the enclosure of her own pod. Sahara ignores all of this, exiting through the ropes onto the catwalk, and she grabs the top rope with her hands, hopping in place as she waits for Grace to get to her feet…

MM: NOTHING! NOTHING is on his feet!

Grace is struggling to get up, and NOTHING stalks across the ring toward Sahara, oblivious to his presence…








VA: He’s the special referee, he’s supposed to be impartial!!

MM: Apparently he feels turnabout is fair play after NOTHING floored him with Pure HATE!

Grace is back on her feet, and turns around just as Sahara leaps into the air, springboarding off the top rope….







VA: No way, Malone! No way!!

Sahara hooks Grace’s leg, and Grady makes the count!

















The bloodied and battered champion, Michael Draven is up, and rushes over to try and break the count up….
















Draven leaps toward Sahara with a flying double axhandle….










VA: Malone! Tell me this isn’t happening!

Grady, back on his feet, walks over to the catwalk to confer with Nikki Rogers as Michael Draven collapses to the mat in exhaustion…

NR: Ladies and gentlemen, I have just been informed by special referee Grady Smith…





….the winner of this contest……







NR: ….EWA World Heavyweight Champion…..SAHARA!!!

MM: Sahara has done it! Unbelieveable!!

“Adrenalize Me” blasts through the NYSWF Memorial Arena as the Asylum door swings open. Carnage lies all around, with the battered and broken bodies of Michael Draven, Grace Goeren and NOTHING scattered, along with one incredibly dented chair. As William West, a hysterical Alice, a smirking Indrid Calder and an ecstatic Maggie McIntyre look on, Grady retrieves the EWA World Heavyweight Championship belt, handing it over to Sahara, who grabs it from him while on her knees, sobbing as she stares down at the fruits of her lifelong dream. Sahara collapses to the ground, hugging the championship slightly against her as the sliding doors to the pods open.

MM: Sahara is the new EWA World Heavyweight Champion, ladies and gentlemen!

VA: And no thanks to Grady Smith, Malone! What kind of retired piece of crap comes in to officiate a match just to take out his former rival?

MM: The same kind that was laid out with Pure HATE by said rival? These two had many storied battles here on these grounds, and one more was waged tonight, a war that quite possibly cost NOTHING the EWA World Heavyweight Championship. But right now, folks, the lifelong dream of that woman, Sahara. Perhaps the most polarizing athlete in the history of the EWA. Whether you love her or hate her, she’s climbed the mountain and stands at the very top of this industry right now.

VA: Better get that belt tested, Malone! Let’s not understate the other major incident here – if it weren’t for Indrid Calder and his heinous attack on our God Queen, this might not have happened!

MM: And that disturbing message Calder etched in his own blood…what is that all about, Vincent? Is HATE recruiting Sahara once again?

The sliding doors of the pods open, and Maggie McIntyre is the first to scramble out, nearly tackling Sahara as she dives on top of her in celebration. The Spider King exits his own pod, grabbing his fallen comrade and placing NOTHING on his shoulders, shooting Grady Smith a look as he exits the Asylum – but not before taking one final look toward the ring at Sahara, and at his mortal adversaries, Maggie McIntyre and the fallen Michael Draven on the outside. Wlliam West leaves without incident, a scowl of fury on his face, and finally, Alice lumbers herself over her pod, grabbing her God Queen and cradling Grace in her arms as she exits – leaving Sahara and Maggie in the ring alone. Maggie leaves the Crimson Queen’s side, exiting as the Asylum begins to ascend to the rafters, and goes to check on the fallen Michael Draven, allowing Sahara to slowly climb the turnbuckle, flashing the championship high above her head as a massive pyrotechnics display goes off above the ring.

MM: Ladies and gentlemen, we are out of time! Sahara has won the EWA World Heavyweight Championship, and what an incredible night we’ve just had here at the NYSWF Memorial Arena! For Terry Bull, Allison Haines and Vincent Ashe, I’m Mike Malone. We’ll see you in two weeks for Battlelines 36!

The camera rests on the overjoyed figure of Sahara, standing on the turnbuckles, having accomplished her ultimate dream.

World Heavyweight Champion.

Fade to black.


© 1998-2017
EWA Wrestling – a Division of EWA Entertainment
This event may not be rebroadcast without the expressed written consent of EWA Entertainment.
© 2017 Five Guys Operations
“Five Guys Burgers and Fries,” “Five Guys Enterprises” and “Five Guys” are registered trademarks of Five Guys Operations.
© 2017 Valhalla
“Valhalla” is a registered trademark of Jada Kaine.
© 2017 Rocket League
“Rocket League,” “Rocketball” and “Take The Shot” are registered trademarks of Psyonix.
© 2017 LupoTech Communications
“LupoTech,” “LupoTech Communications” and “LupoTechComm” are registered trademarks of LupoTech Communications.
© 2017 Schadenfreude.com
“Schadenfreude.com,” “Midget Albino Donkey Sex,” “Surprise Wedding Sucker Punch” and “Dieter” are registered trademarks of Schadenfreude.com & Azrael Goeren Enterprises.

Lou vs Azrael Goeren – Sean Boden
Alice vs Santa Muerte vs Nikki Caldwell – Sean Boden
Katsuro Yoshida vs Philip Donovan – Bill Santa
Rick Remington vs Josh Kaine – Harlan Heubaum
Ethan Leers vs Buck Dresden – Brandon Hughes
Joe Lemon vs Ray Willmott – Ray Willmott
Indrid Calder vs William West – Bill Santa
Jester Smiles vs Maggie McIntyre – Harlan Heubaum
The Asylum: Chris Furman & Harlan Heubaum (entrances), Gates (match). Special thanks to Jeremy Megargee