Battlelines 43 Results

EWA Entertainment Presents: Battlelines 43

May 31, 2018

Colonial Life Arena

Columbia, SC


(The show opens not with the normal fanfare, but a groan.  The scene fades in and we see HATE member Cal Rayner on the ground, groaning in agony.  He clutches his head as he is curled up in the fetal position. There is a bloody spot on the back of his head as the behemoth cradles himself.  EMTs are already scurrying around him, trying to check on him.)

Mike Malone:  L…ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Battlelines!  I am your host…

Vincent Ashe:  We need to know what happened here, Malone!  Stop introducing and start doing your job!

(As if on cue, Indrid Calder and NOTHING appear, Sahara several steps back.  The three of them survey the scene with Sahara paying Rayner little mind.)

Indrid Calder:  Who…would dare…

(He kneels down and sees a blood matted piece of paper taped to Rayner’s chest as the EMTs continue to check on the monster.)

NOTHING:  What does that say?

(Calder looks up to NOTHING and then to Sahara before handing NOTHING the crumpled piece of paper.)

Indrid Calder:  It says “That’s one.”

(NOTHING looks down at the paper, his brow furrowing in fury as he looks at Calder and then over to Sahara, who still seems not that concerned about Rayner on the ground, who is going in and out of consciousness.)

NOTHING:  On your guard.  It would appear the last gasps of the corpse is still dangerous for the executioners.

VA:   Somebody got the jump on Cal Rayner!  HATE is down a man as they head into their coronation!  Talk about an underdog story, Malone!

HATE leaves Rayner on the ground, Calder casually tapping Rayner on the shoulder as he leaves with the others.

MM:   NOTHING, Calder, and Sahara are on alert as we welcome everyone to BATTLELINES!


(The arena lights go dark as “Hail to the King” greets the crowd in attendance.  A single spotlight appears and in it, Alexander Haven, a man many have been waiting to hear from.  Haven is dressed in street clothes, wearing a suit jacket paired with jeans.)


MM:  After nearly nine months away from the EWA, at Live From Toronto, Alexander Haven, the owner and chief executive officer of the EWA, and one of the all-time greats, made his triumphant return when he took out Martin Robertson to end the show…and here he comes!!


VA:   Hail, Hail, the so-called King is here.  


MM:   So-called?


VA:  I mean, I haven’t seen a whole lot of him lately around here.  One has to wonder who has been running this company, especially as the divorce between the Havens continues to threaten the very existence of the EWA.  


MM:  Fair point, I suppose, but isn’t that Martin Robertson’s theme song?   It was the theme song of Three Kings, but Martin Robertson had continued using it following Haven’s disappearance.  


VA:   Oh, and like he has any argument if the owner of the company decides he wants it back?  Does Martin have squatter’s rights? Typical power move by Haven once again. Bend over, Marty! Here it comes!


(Haven pauses halfway down the ramp, and shakes his head.  He turns to the audio control station beyond the ramp and signals across his throat, and they cut the music.  A production assistant quickly rushes him a microphone.)


Alexander Haven: I’m sorry, Columbia. I know it’s looking like an amateur hour production out here right now, and you deserve better…but something doesn’t feel right about that entrance.  So, if you’ll allow it, I know it’s unconventional but…I want a do over. Can I get a do over, South Carolina?


MM:  Can he do that?  This is live TV.


VA:  Go tell him he can’t. Seriously. Go. I’ll wait here.


(The crowd somewhat confusingly cheers, as Haven disappears to the back.  The production crew seems a bit thrown off as well as they scramble into place, but this time, when the lights go off another song is playing in place – “Welcome Home” by Coheed and Cambria.  As the music picks up pace, the spotlight returns to once again display the EWA owner. Haven appears much more upbeat and energetic this time around, smiling as he slaps hands with the EWA crowd on his way to the ring.)


MM:  I guess he can do that.


VA:  You’re catching on, Malone.


(Haven climbs the stairs, stopping to pump his arms into the air greeting the capacity crowd. Stepping through the ring ropes, a production worker tosses a mic which Haven catches.  He paces the ring for a few steps before speaking as the music fades.)


Alexander Haven: Much better!  I never really liked that song much anyways, but rightfully, I would say-  if anyone is going to walk around here calling themselves a King…it should be me.  


(Haven pauses and stares into the hard camera, as the crowd responds with applause.)


Alexander Haven: Truth is, though…I let you down.  I’ve let my personal life and my divorce proceedings with she who shall not be named impact the day to day operations of this company and for that, I am sorry.  I know you all would love some answers from me on a variety of topics, but at this time, I’m being advised by my legal council that it is not in my best interest, or the EWA’s, for me to air out my dirty laundry on a live microphone, right here on the EWA Network.  


(The crowd reacts unfavorably to that statement and Haven nods in agreement.)


Alexander Haven: I get it, you guys, and as much as I’d love to tell them to go fuck themselves, and that I’ll do whatever the hell I want to do…like the younger me would have done…but, as odd as it is to me still that I find myself in this position, the livelihoods of a great deal of people depend on me, and that’s a responsibility I have to take seriously.  However, I am told that my legal team will allow me to air a pre recorded interview, which I intend to conduct in the coming weeks, to air on the EWA Network as a one time speci-


(Haven is suddenly cut off as the opening guitar riff of Halestorm’s “Mayhem” blasts through the Colonial Life Arena. The crowd begins to boo, more out of Haven being interrupted than any, and Haven shakes his head, rolling his eyes, as Rick Remington appears at the top of the entrance ramp, already in his wrestling gear and a microphone in his hand.)


VA:  Yes! Finally, someone puts us out of our misery from hearing Alexander Haven drone on and on and on and–


MM:  I know Rick Remington is new here, but maybe someone should advise him that this isn’t necessarily the best course of action?


VA:  Oh please, Malone. There’s wrecked cars in the junkyards all over this hell-hole of a city that have less rust than Alexander Haven does!


(Remington, smirking, raises the microphone to his lips, walking toward the ring as he begins to speak.)


Rick Remington: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, BLAH. Allow me, ladies and gentlemen, to spare you from this snoozefest of boredom that our illustrious returning owner has decided to put you through here tonight. Let’s face facts, Alexander Haven. Nobody cares where you’ve been. We all know that you tucked your tail between your legs and ran like the coward that you are. I’m sure Martin Robertson would love to come out here and shut you up once and for all, but the production monkeys backstage tell me he’s not even here yet…so you get me instead.


MM:  Well, that’s a net loss.

VA:  Malone! You’re supposed to be impartial!

MM:  I can’t believe you of all people just said that to me.


(Remington pauses at the steel steps, smirking out at the crowd, as Haven waits patiently in the ring, arms folded across his chest. Remington slowly begins to climb the steps, continuing his diatribe.)


Rick Remington: But one man’s loss is another man’s gain, or in this case, the gain of millions! Because right now, you’re going to witness something that’s been anticipated for years. Something truly spectacular, something breath-taking, something you’ll be telling your grandchildren out when you’re old and too senile to wipe your own asses properly.


(A round of boos rains down on the debuting rookie; Haven, meanwhile, remains expressionless. Remington ducks underneath the ropes, slowly walking toward the returning owner of the EWA.)


Rick Remington: Tonight, you get to see The Natural, Rick Remington, debut in truly incredible fashion, as I slam the door on the career of this has-been, this joke, this –WHOA–


(Remington’s microphone goes flying as Haven, lightning-fast, suddenly darts forward, kicking the rookie in the stomach! The crowd explodes as Haven hoists Remington onto his shoulders, allowing la brief hint of a smile to cross his face before driving the rookie down to the mat with the Fall From Glory!)


VA:  Malone, do something! He can’t do that!


MM:  He can do anything he wants, you said it yourself!  He’s the owner of the EWA, and he’s back, ladies and gentlemen! Alexander Haven is BACK!


VA:  This match isn’t supposed to happen yet! We don’t even have a refer–oh no!


(And almost on cue, Aria Moretti sprints out to the ring, sliding inside and calling for the bell. Haven chuckles, placing a knee down on poor Remington’s chest as she slaps her hand to the mat…)








Nikki Rogers: Here is your winner…Alexander…Haven!!


VA:  This is an injustice, Malone! Where is Martin Robertson? Get out here, Marty!


MM:  You heard what Remington said, Vincent Ashe, apparently he’s not even here yet!


VA:  What a joke! I hate that man in the ring!


MM:  I remember so many weeks where you’d practically give him verbal fellatio out here.


VA:  I–I did not! You pervert!


(‘Hail to the King’ plays once again as Haven gets to his feet, exiting through the ropes and tossing a hand up to the fans before heading back up the ramp. Allison Haines greets him at the top of the stage, but he slashes a finger across his throat before she can even get a word out, apparently denying her an interview for the second show in a row as he exits through the curtains. Ever persistent, Haines follows him through the curtain as our cameras cut back to ringside.)




MM:  What a moment to kick off Battlelines 43, and you have to figure that Martin Robertson’s going to get his soon–

VA:  Are you kidding me, Malone?! Martin’s been hoping for this! He’s been salivating at the thought of finally getting his washed up mentor in the ring so he can beat the brakes off that old man! And now, Alyssa Marie, the neglected, abused–


MM:  Abused?!


VA:  –estranged wife, who’s just trying to move forward and build a life with Martin, she can finally get her divorce from that monster, Alexander Haven.


MM:  What a show we have in store for you tonight, folks, as HATE attempts to place a stranglehold on the entire EWA – indeed, they have the opportunity tonight to walk out of Columbia with every single EWA championship! But right now, let’s take you backstage!


(Backstage, we’re with a cameraman who’s posted up near the general locker room area. As some of the EWA staff come and pass by him, we watch as we see Martin Robertson, dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a tan blazer with a white t-shirt underneath, walks down the hall from near where the entrance to the garage area is. As he approaches the cameraman…)


Cameraman: Martin! Martin! Hey…


(Martin stops, obviously annoyed about the fact that there’s already a camera shoved in his face…)


Martin Robertson: What? What could you possibly already want?


Cameraman: I’m just back here trying to get some footage with some of the wrestlers.


(Martin smirks.)


Martin Robertson: Some footage, huh? Here’s some footage you can get… of me, walking to my (making air quotes) “locker room” to get ready for my match.


(Martin starts to leave, but just as he gets a step past the cameraman, standing in front of him is Cameron Black…)


Cameron Black: Marty, hey! Good to see you.


Martin Robertson: I thought you were leaving.


Cameron Black: Soon, Marty. Hey, wh…


Martin Robertson: Soon can’t come soon enough. Can’t it be right now?


Cameron Black: Like, now now?


Martin Robertson: Yes, now.


Cameron Black: Sorry, no.


Martin Robertson: Why not?


Cameron Black: We just missed it.


Martin Robertson: Missed what?


Cameron Black: Then.


Martin Robertson: When will then be now and you leave?


Cameron Black: Soon.


Martin Robertson: How soon?


Cameraman: Oh my god, can you two stop?


Cameron Black: Why aren’t you dressed for your match, Marty? It’s coming up soon.


Cameraman: I swear, you say “soon” or “now” one more time…


Martin Robertson: I literally just got here.


Cameron Black: You did? Oh… OH! So you… you didn’t see…


Martin Robertson: See what?


Cameron Black: Alex’s great comeback speech.


Martin Robertson: Figures. Guy’s not back long enough for a cup of coffee and his ego’s already back to being over-inflated.


Cameron Black: Yeah, about that… So I’m going to need you to go ahead and choose some new entrance music.


Martin Robertson: Excuse me?


Cameron Black: Alex decided he wants to use Hail to the King and, well, you know… he is the owner of the company.


Martin Robertson: You’ve got to be kidding me… really?


Cameron Black: We can’t have two people coming out to the same music. That’d just confuse everyone. So if you could get something queued up..


Martin Robertson: Queued up? My match is probably in ten minutes. I’ve got to get changed, loosened up, go to the bathroom, and now you want me to come up with a new entrance theme? It’ll take at least 48 hours to get the agreement signed with any record company for the copyright! You can’t just download a song and use it as a theme…


Cameron Black: Oh, we have some other ones that we’ve already got agreements with the record companies… here, choose one of these…


(Cameron hands Martin his cell phone, which Martin begins to scroll through…)


Martin Robertson: Hot Stuff by Donna Summers… sounds like something Grady would have come out to… Panda, naturally… It Wasn’t Me by Shaggy?


Cameraman: Oh, I like that one…


Martin Robertson: Shut up…. Is there anything decent here? Spawn Again by Silverchair… isn’t that about animal mutilation?


(Martin takes the phone and tosses it over his shoulder and into the garbage can about fifteen feet behind him. Cameron’s face turns to a look of shock…)


Cameron Black: My phone!


Martin Robertson: Who cares… if that’s your Spotify playlist, you need more than just a new phone. Look, I’ll… I’ll just figure something out myself. Now if you’ll excuse me.


(Martin bumps past Cameron, hurrying towards his locker room as Cameron looks at the cameraman…)


Cameron Black: There were some good songs on that list, you know…


Cameraman: But…Mr. Black…didn’t Alex change his theme already?


Cameron Black: What? Oh, yeah, totally.


Cameraman: So why does Martin have to change his?


(Cameron just smirks, chuckling, as he turns and walks away.




(We go back to the backstage area, where EWA Combat Champion Buck Dresden is standing in front of the locker room door.  He stares at the door for a long moment, his hand raised in a curled fist, prepared to knock on it. He inhales deeply and exhales loudly, as if he is fully aware of the type of problem he’s going to have behind this door.  Regardless of the tension, he knocks. He knocks strongly, which belies his anxiety over what’s coming when he is finally face to face with Fenrir.)


Buck Dresden:  Josh.  Hey, man.  Mind if I step in fer a sec?


(It takes Josh a moment to gather himself. The past two week have not been great, but he’s found some measure of peace.  He steps back to invite Buck in, but keeps himself ready for anything.)


Josh Kaine: Whatcha want?


(Buck sighs yet again, the weight of everything crashing down at that moment.  He looks around the room and then to Josh, nodding his head as he composes himself.)


Buck Dresden:  I wanted to say…


(He laughs at his nervousness.)


Buck Dresden:  …I wanted to say that was a great match ya had with Calder.  He’s a tough sumbitch, so I know sometimes ya find yerself toe to toe with somebody like that, yer liable to fold an’ ya didn’t.


(Josh runs a hand through his dark locks, shaking his head.)


Josh Kaine: Weren’t no other choice but to face him. Ain’t lookin’ for war, but Calder ain’t gonna jump on me so easy next time. I’m a Kaine. We don’t fold.


(The Heir to Valhalla puts another step between them, unsure as to what the Bluegrass Bad Ass wants underneath it all.)


Josh Kaine: May get beaten down, but we don’t fold.  You need somethin’ from me?


Buck Dresden:  Naw, naw, not really…


(Buck looks down again, almost bashful.)


Buck Dresden:  Listen, man, I’m sorry.  From before, I was all in my own head an’ up my own ass.  I didn’t stop ta think about the shit you’d be goin’ through in yer own head.  I just came bargin’ in, actin’ like I was King Shit an’ that wasn’t right. You had things goin’ on an’ I was so focused on goin’ to war an’ fightin’ the good fight.  So…yeah.


(He licks his lips before he speaks again.)


Buck Dresden:  I’m sorry, Josh.


(Something inside of Josh bends slightly before quickly righting itself. He’s silent for a long moment, seemingly contemplating Buck’s apology and what it means to the younger man. Josh takes a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest.)


Josh Kaine: I appreciate it, man. Ain’t easy to own up to stuff like that, but I still ain’t lookin’ for partners. Got my people, m’not lookin’ out for no one else but me and mine.


(Josh leans back against the wall.)


Josh Kaine: But I still appreciate it, Buck.


(Buck nods his head again, a smile crawling across his face.)


Buck Dresden:  Alright, man.  I understand. Sometimes you’n yers is all you have.  It just ate at me to not try’n make amends. I gotta fight this war, an’ honestly I’m just damn glad I only have HATE in front o’ me an’ not the three headed dog.


(Buck extends his hand.)


Buck Dresden:  Are we good, then?


(Josh shook his head.)


Josh Kaine: You can keep that. I ain’t in the business of shakin’ hands no more.  Last man who shook my hand only did so after somethin’ horrible. You ain’t one of mine. So just…’preciate the sorry, but ain’t gonna shake your hand. S’just the way it’s gotta be for me.


(Buck curls his hand back up into a fist and lets it fall to his side.)


Buck Dresden:  That’s…a little bit overboard, but I’m sorry handshakes got ruined fer ya.  Best o’ luck tonight with Jester, I guess. He’s a good guy. Just like you. He’s just had it rough, things fucked in his head.  Even so…still a good guy.


(Buck takes a moment, looking Josh directly in his eyes.)


Buck Dresden:  Just like you.  Take care, Josh.


(With that, Buck steps back and exits the way he came in, leaving Josh yet again.)


ewa network championship match

Indrid calder


Philip donovan


(“Smoke & Mirrors” by Puscifer plays and the fans know already just who is coming out.)

MM:   You have to believe Indrid Calder is looking over his shoulder tonight!

NR:   The following is for the NETWORK CHAMPIONSHIP!  Introducing first the challenger…from HATE!

(Smoke seems to curl outward from the shroud as it passes multiple shattered mirrors. Suddenly the shroud darts forward with deceptive quickness, the head rising.)


(All we see is a black hole beneath the hood with two shining knife-blue silver dollars for eyes.  Calder seemingly glides down to the ring, but he is alone tonight and the look on his face is a mixture of concern and seething rage.)

(Neon green laser beams scatter and strobe across along the entrance ramp, as a singular black light spotlight shines on PhD, arms outstretched welcoming the audience.)


(The most distinct feature of his outfit are his glowing neon pink and baby blue shutter shades.)


VA:   HATE is making the rounds tonight but somebody just keeps standing in their way but Malone?  This is Indrid Calder. That’s PhD. I mean…c’mon. Former World Champion. PhD. Spider King.  PhD. World Tag Team Champion. PhD. See my point?

MM:   Definitely, Vincent.  Indrid Calder better be on his A game because that is PhD.

VA:   No, wait.  That’s not at ALL…I…wait, Malone!

PhD and Calder are in the ring and the bell rings.  The two men glare one another down until PhD tries to go on the offensive, only for Calder to quickly assume command of the match.  At first, Calder grinds PhD with submissions and holds that restrict PhD’s air flow, doing all he can to keep the fiery Network Champion from getting to show off for the masses in Columbia, South Carolina.  Slowly but surely, Calder begins to feel confident in himself and the fact that the match seems to be in his hands, but that is a mistake he makes just a little too soon in his strategy against PhD, and he eats a Photobomb for his efforts.

PhD assumes control, the fight going straight to Calder.  The Network Champion isn’t willing to drop his title just yet.  He overcomes Calder’s futile attempts to gain an upper hand and continues to do so until Calder realizes his best offense against the strong will of the Network Champion is to resort to underhanded tactics.  He rakes PhD’s back, gouges his eyes, and seems to use the vile nature of his assault to take control of the match yet again. PhD feeds off of the rallying fans in attendance and tries to fight back valiantly, but Calder ducks a clothesline attempt that levels Rick Iley.  PhD catches a harsh low blow for his mistake, and Calder hits him with the For the Horsemen, dropping him to the mat with a thud. Calder leans against the ropes as Rick Iley begins to come to. He drops down to his knees, preparing to pin PhD and…


(Out from the back emerges none other than EWA COMBAT CHAMPION BUCK DRESDEN.  Buck steps onto the entrance stage, the fans popping HARD as Buck stands there, looking at Calder.  He has a smirk on his face and rage in his eyes as he starts to saunter down the ramp. Calder gets to his feet and steps over PhD’s prone form.)

Buck Dresden:  Where’s yer team, Mothman?

(Buck stops midway on the entrance stage as Calder stops his attack on PhD.  He glares at Buck.)

Buck Dresden:  You’n me ain’t had a fight since I beat yer ass to get a shot at this title o’ mine.  What do you think would happen, Driddle Dee, if I put hands on you right now?

(The fans POP as Calder beckons Buck to get in the ring and face him.)

Buck Dresden:  You’d get disqualified, PhD retains, an’ HATE don’t get to tighten their stranglehold on this place.  How shitty would that be fer y’all?

(Buck takes another step towards the ring.)

Buck Dresden:  Bet you wish you had Cal Rayner right about now, huh?

Suddenly, PhD takes a hold of Calder’s leg and rolls him up, locking the cradle in as tightly as he can, the referee in position to make the count!








Buck Dresden:  Oh, Driddle Dumb, brother…

(Buck takes a few steps back up the ring ramp.)

Buck Dresden:  …that’s two.

(Buck holds up two fingers as he backs up to the entrance stage.  Le Perv’s “Carpenter Brut” kicks in as Donovan is handed the Network Championship.  He is laughing with excitement as he realizes his win. Calder rests his head on the mat, knowing the extent of his failure towards HATE’s dominance this evening.)

MM:   Vincent, he just said to Calder that that’s two!  Do you think that means he was behind the attack on Cal Rayner?!

VA:   Buck, you’re making the stupidest decisions in your LIFE tonight!

MM:   Buck Dresden is taking it to HATE tonight!  The dominance has had a serious kink thrown in the plans, and it looks like it’s all thanks to Buck Dresden!

VA:   Bullshit, Malone!  Buck Dresden doesn’t have it in him to be THIS stupid to launch a one man war against HATE!




(Calder is backstage, brushing the hair from his face, his jaw clenched and his teeth gritted so tightly as he exhales bits of spittle fly from his mouth.  He shoves people out of the way, saying nothing as he paces in the backstage area.)

Indrid Calder:  That…I don’t care what it takes.  He’s done. He’s mine.

(He freezes, looking slightly off screen.  He shakes his head in disbelief.)

Indrid Calder:  I should have known.

(Without warning, Calder is attacked.  The camera tries to swivel around to catch a glimpse of the attacker, but the camera is suddenly yanked away from the cameraman and we see the lens rammed into Calder’s midsection again and again and again.  The camera is dropped next to Calder’s twitching hand. He groans in pain as a boot steps over Calder’s prone form and disappears down the hall.)


MM:   Rayner down and now Calder has been attacked!  Buck Dresden, if you’re behind this, I hope you know what you’re doing!



MM:  Up next, we have a battle of two long-time EWA veterans, as Lou takes on Martin Robertson.

VA:  And tonight’s the night Martin gets things back on track, Malone. Everybody knows that he’s the rightful EWA World Heavyweight Champion, and if Alexander Haven hadn’t shown up in Toronto–


MM:  Haven didn’t show up until after the match!


VA:  That’s not the point, Malone!


MM:  I can’t believe you would actua–




MM and VA:  WHAT?!?!


(“I Will Not Bow” begins to blare over the arena PA system.  The crowd suddenly erupts knowing what they are about to experience.)




MM:  I can’t believe it, what the hell is he doing here!!


VA:  I have no idea, Malone, but I am sure he is here to tell us, watch the language by the way, this is a family show.


(A red spotlight appears at the top of entrance ramp, and the four time EWA World Heavyweight Champion finally makes his way into the center of it.  Kage is decked out in a plain black tee shirt, with blue jeans, and his customary black work boots. The shoe-in EWA first ballot hall of famer takes a moment to survey the crowd, before making his way down the ramp to the ring.)


MM:  We haven’t seen Chris Kage inside of an EWA ring since the night he retired, after he had sustained that horrible hip injury in the classic encounter he had with EWA owner and CEO Alexander Haven at Champions Summit III.


VA:  This is fucking nuts!


MM:  Seriously?


VA:  Kage is moving quite well too Malone, last time we saw him he could barely stand, but right now he looks spry as a spring mountain goat looking for a quick blowy on the southside of the hill.


MM:  Vincent, for Christ sakes…


VA:  It’s the Kageious One, Malone, he brings it out of me.


(Kage hops into the ring and grabs a mic from a technician at ringside.  He circles the ring for a moment, letting the crowd soak up his triumphant return.  A chant begins to take over the arena.)











(Kage brings the mic to his lips and quiets the capacity crowd.)


Chris Kage: Oh my fucking God, I missed the hell out of all of you.  This, this right here, this is the most I’ve felt alive in a long, long, long…time.  Ya know a lot of people say a lot of sentimental shit out here, and most of it is solid eye rolling material.  Because let’s be honest, how many of those second rate scrotum ticklers in the back actually have an ounce of sincerity in their body?  I’ll tell you how many, one, maybe two of them. The rest are just here for tits, dicks, ass, and cash. And to them I say, fuck bro, me too!


(Kage cackles for a moment, letting the crowd enjoy his quick hit.)


Chris Kage: But seriously, this moment for me is as good as they come.  And I’m not going to sit out here and tell you about the trials and tribulations I’ve had to deal with since I last left all of you here in the EWA.  Because frankly, you don’t really give a shit where I’ve been or what I’ve been through, all you care about is what the fuck am I doing right here, RIGHT NOW!


(The crowd pops a little with anticipation.)


Chris Kage: Well as it turns out, when you put a guy like Chris Kage on the shelf, you better fucking make sure he stays there, because as of right now I am declaring my return to the EWA effective immediately.  And I’m not just here to glad hand and play politics in the back, I am here to compete!


MM:  OH MY!!


(The arena erupts once again with the news of Chris Kage’s unexpected return to action in the EWA.)


Chris Kage: I am back to show all the EWA fans, and all of the talent fingering and jerking back in the locker room, that I am exactly what I’ve always been, and always will be, the best in the fucking business!


Now let’s get down to business, shall we?  I’m pretty sure there is a guy in the back right  now that has something that belongs to me. That’s because as I remember it, I never lost my EWA strap and I am the rightful…


(Kage stops suddenly, his attention is drawn to the ramp.  We pan over to see the EWA Executive Assistant, Stacy Vandervort, hustling down towards the ring.  Kage looks puzzled as his wife enters to the ring and approaches her husband.


Stacy pushes Kage’s mic down, and the two begin to argue.  Their conversation is completely inaudible, but both seem to be getting more and more upset.  Kage finally throws the mic down and hops out of the ring. Stacy picks up the mic and begins to pace after her husband.)


Stacy Vandervort: Chris!  Chris! Come on, we talked about this, Chris!


(The blonde bombshell shakes her head and throws down the mic before continuing to follow after Kage who has already disappeared behind the curtain into the back.  The crowd rumbles with confusion as it appears the glorious return of Chris Kage has had a cog stuck in it for the time being.)


MM:  I have no idea what just happened.


VA:  I know exactly what happened, Malone, your dirty mouth caused Stacy to come out here and reprimand Kage, which in turn has obviously caused a heated debate which will almost certainly lead to their divorce.  Was that your plan the whole time Malone? Are you in love with Stacy? She is your boss, Malone, you’re a sick man. Just sick.


MM:  ….




martin robertson


MM:  Coming up next, Vince… I…. I don’t even know what to make of this next matchup between Martin Robertson and L…


VA:  You can’t expect anything from it, Malone. It’s a complete screwjob. All Alexander Haven is trying to do is screw with Martin, so the only thing I expect from this is to see Martin get screwed again..


(Suddenly, without any warning or music, the crowd erupts into a chorus of jeers as, stepping through the curtain at the top of the entrance ramp is Martin Robertson. Following behind him is Alyssa Marie Haven, but she’s dressed more professionally than she normally does when she comes to ringside, wearing a gray pant suit with a white top underneath the jacket. Martin turns and is yelling something at Alyssa, who can only simply shrug her shoulders at Martin as they continue down the ramp…)


VA:  SEE! This whole entrance music thing. Completely unfair!


MM:  I think it’s a little bit of karma, finally coming to bite Martin in the ass, after all of the things he’s done to everyone else here in the EWA?


VA:  Everything he’s done? What, like trying to win matches against all odds that are thrown against him? Oh, please Martin, stop trying to win matches!


MM:  You know exactly what I’m talking about.


VA:  You don’t even know what you’re talking about, Malone…


(Martin starts to enter the ring, but instead, he turns back around and beings to point and yell at an obnoxious fan at ringside. Alyssa, however, went into the ring, and she’s trying to get Martin to focus on the match at hand…)




NR:  This next match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, currently in the ring, Martin Robertson!


VA:  SEE! What kind of introduction is that?


MM:  Well, he is already in the ring…


VA:  Yeah, but what about announcing him as the Youth King, or the longest reigning singles champion in the history of the EWA?


MM:  Maybe Nikki deci…




MM:  … but here comes the Deathmatch Debutant, Vince!


NR:  … and his opponent! She hails from Forest Park, Alabama. She is a former EWA Network Champion, and a former two-time EWA Tag Team Champion, including the longest title reign in the history of the EWA! Here is the Deathmatch Debutant… THIS… IS… LOU!


VA:  Should I say anything at this point?


MM:  I personally don’t care if you don’t.


VA:  Why is Lou even bothering here? She knows Haven’s just going to fix the match so Martin loses.


(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!)


MM:  You might think the fix is in, but if it is, Lou doesn’t seem to be clued in on it. She’s entirely focused on Robertson!


VA:  She’s just playing it up. Just watch…


(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.)


VA:  You still going to tell me she hasn’t worked with Alex to fix the match?




MM:  Well, we’re about to find out as this match is underway!


Martin was clearly the aggressor early on, still fuming over what’s taken place so far tonight, and Lou was able to use that to her advantage early on. She was quicker on her feet and was outmaneuvering him anytime Martin tried to advance forward, but not really doing a whole lot of damage with a quick kick or punch to send him staggering away. Martin would slide outside the ring after two or three moves to regroup, but he would go right back to being overaggressive, and Lou would continue to keep Martin on his backside.


The turn came about four minutes into the match, when Martin once again went outside after taking a set of brutal kicks from Lou. Getting impatient with the game that Martin was playing, Lou fell into his trap, following him outside. He was able to reverse her attack, throwing her into the ringpost. His aggression and anger finally started to pay off as he would continue the onslaught outside the ring, following Lou around the ring as she tried to get free for a moment. The ref was giving probably more leeway than he should have for the match, but I don’t think the fans minded one bit, except for the one fan that tried to get into Martin’s business, but but pie-faced for his efforts. However, every so often, you’d catch Martin looking up, away from the ring, either towards the entrance ramp or out into the upper distances of the crowd, almost as if he was expecting something else to happen.


Once back in the ring, Martin continued to be relentless with Lou, moving into more of his high-impact repertoire, landing a number of throws and suplexes reminiscent of his collegiate wrestling days. Martin was back into classic Martin mode, taunting Lou and the fans after every power move. Lou started to make a comeback as Martin took his time pulling Lou back to her feet, stunning Martin with a few quick punches before getting to her feet and landing an incredible Pele kick, knocking him down to a knee. However, as Lou went off the ropes, Alyssa finally got involved with the match, reaching out and grabbing Lou’s foot as she rebounded off the ropes. Lou turned around to confront Alyssa, who had already moved as far away as she could. Lou put the distraction aside and turned back to Martin, but she ran right into his arms for a belly to belly overhead suplex.


Martin got back to his feet first as he started screaming down at Lou, but again, as he took his time pulling her back up, Lou hit a really low blow on Martin, putting them both back on the same level. Alyssa banged on the ring apron, imploring Martin to finish out the match. But Lou was actually the first one up this time, and she started laying kicks to the Martin, bouncing him around back and forth before planting him on the mat with a short DDT. Feeling the momentum flowing in her favor, Lou pulled Martin up quickly, whipping him into the corner. But Martin reversed it, sending Lou crashing chest first instead, and was right behind her, following up with a running knee to the back, trapping her between his knee and the corner. As Lou tried to escape the corner, turning around, she walked right into the bottom of Martin’s foot, who was standing there waiting to land Pure Perfection, getting the three count and the victory.




MM:  He got her!


VA:  Yeah, but I still feel this was all a set up by Alex… something’s got to be up here.


MM:  Maybe that’s the ultimate mind game by Alex… to always keep Martin guessing, keep him on his toes, never knowing what to expect or when to expect it.


VA:  So how is that fair, then? Alex can just come back and start pulling all of this?


MM:  Well, he kind of does own the company.


VA:  You keep coming up with all of these reasons that he can mess with people. Why not be helpful for once?


MM:  Sometimes, Vince, you never cease to ama…


(Suddenly, there’s a scuffle around Malone’s microphone, until…)


Martin Robertson: Get out of here, Malone. Vince, you tell these people what’s really going on!


VA:  I’m trying, Martin…


Martin Robertson: He wants to come back and try to mess with me… he wants to come back and think that he’s still the one running the show around here… well, he’s not. It’s MY SHOW, Vince… it’s…


VA:  I know it is, Martin. I’m trying… look what I’m working with here!


Martin Robertson: I know… I know! Get your facts straight, Malone. This is my show, Malone. I’m the Youth King! He’s a washed up has been who’s not in my league anymore. Alex, go back to whatever hole you crawled out of, and stay out of the way of progress!


(Martin throws the headset back down on the table in front of Malone before smacking him on the back of the head.)


VA:  See? See what you did there? Let’s just go to the back…


Sahara: Where the hell is Allison Haines when you need her?!


(In an all out panic, Sahara rushes up and does a double take when she crosses paths with Terry Bull. She grabs him by his shirt collar and yanks him upright.)


Sahara: I need you, and I need you NOW, Terry! Come this way!


(Sahara YANKS Terry down the hallway toward an unmarked dressing room as his eyes bulge, she continuously glances behind them as they walk, looking for something, or someone…)


VA:  Did Sahara just tell Terry Bull, “I need you now?!” Why doesn’t that ever happen to me?!


MM:  Shhhhh, what that the hell is going on here?


(Knocking at the door and lacking any form of patience, Sahara kicks the bottom of it in a state of escalating panic and bangs on it with her fist for good measure!


A muffled voice can be heard through the door asking the person to identify themselves…)


Sahara: It’s me! Open the damn door, Candice!


(The door can be heard unlocking and swings open as a shock of newly minted platinum hair pokes it’s head out the hall, glancing in both directions before she grabs Terry by the tie and yanks them both into the room. As the door slams shut and locks, the feed changes to grainy black and white surveillance video, prompting additional cheers from the crowd.)


VA:  Nevermind what I said before, why doesn’t THAT ever happen to me?


MM:  Would you get your head out of the gutter?! Why the hell do we have a feed in there, what the HELL is going on here?


VA:  Someone’s obviously wired up this place to keep tabs on HATE, Malone. It’s a damn conspiracy is what it is, and an invasion of privacy! But in this case, I’ll make an exception. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but this is the best Battlelines EVER.


Terry Bull: Ladies! Ladies! PLEASE!


(Sahara grabs Terry by the shirt and shoves him up against the lockers, her voice at a fever pitch of a panic.)


Sahara: I need you now, Terry, I–


Terry Bull: Well, I mean…you ladies don’t need to ask twice!


(A momentary look of confusion crosses Candice’s face as Terry starts fumbling for his shirt buttons but Sahara grabs him by the wrist and slams his hand up against the lockers behind him, pinning his arm to the wall.)


Sahara: What in the HELL are you doing?!


Terry Bull: I-I thought this was–


Candice Diamond: Ewwwww! No! We need information, moron!


Sahara: Jesus Christ, Terry! Can’t you see what’s goin’ on around here?! They’re out to get ME!


(Grabbing him by the tie, Candice wraps it in her fist and slams him back into the lockers for good measure, mostly to snap him out of whatever fantasyland he was living in.)


Sahara: What the HELL is going on here tonight?! Who the HELL is taking out my hive?!


(Now also in an escalating state of panic, Terry sputters–)


Terry Bull: I-I-I-


Candice Diamond: JESUS, SPIT IT OUT!


Sahara: Rayner. NOTHING. Calder. That leaves only ME, Terry. And I happen to care a LOT about ME. So I want answers and I want ‘em now!


MM:  Sahara’s in a place well beyond paranoid right now.


VA:  She has every right to be with this series of cowardly and vicious attacks perpetrated against HATE, Malone.


MM:  Cowardly?! That’s like HATE’s calling card. Hell, that’s HER calling card! You reap what you sow…


(Tightening her grip on his tie even more, Candice and Sahara glance at each other for a moment before they turn their attention back to their captive.)


Sahara: I thought you were some award winning journalist that’s always got the scoop?! You got the BIGGEST story of all time unfolding right before your eyes and you’re tellin’ us you ain’t got nothin’?!


Terry Bull: Ladies, p-please calm down!


Sahara: Calm down?! CALM DOWN?! I swear to God, Terry, if I find out what was going on here tomorrow on yer stupid little $9 a minute hotline, I’m gonna track you down and hurt you bad.


Candice Diamond: …so if you got somethin’, now’s the time!


Sahara: Listen, you already know I don’t like you, so takin’ you out would be like a bonus, and I assure you I ain’t goin’ down without takin’ someone with me tonight.


(The girls both shove him up against the lockers again.)


Sahara: Information is the ONLY thing stoppin’ me from having Candice–you see that door?!


(Sahara YANKS Terry forward and points back at the door.)


Sahara: I’ll have her open that door with your bald fucking head! You got that?! So this is yer last chance, WHO THE HELL IS TAKING OUT HATE?!


(Grabbing him by his shirt, she violently shakes him before SLAMMING him back against the lockers.)


Terry Bull: Oh-okay, okay! Don’t hurt me, ladies. Please. I-I all I have is a hunch, though, I haven’t corroborated the story yet–


(Candice violently SHAKES Terry again–)


Candice Diamond: SPIT IT OUT, JUNIOR!




MM:  Don’t tell ‘em a damn thing, Terry!


VA:  Easy for you to say, you’re not the one that’s about to get thrown through a reinforced door!


Terry Bull: I-I I have a hunch that B-Buck Dresden and maybe Jester–


Sahara: Buck freaking Dresden?!


Terry Bull: It-it’s one of the only name that makes sense, now please!


(Letting go of Terry, Sahara turns to Candice who shoves Terry toward the door.)


Sahara: He’s isolating me … cuz he knows he can’t win otherwise.


(Candice nods in agreement.)


Candice Diamond: So what do we do?!


(Making motion to the door with her head, Sahara looks at Terry–)


Sahara: If he’s smart, he’ll heed the warning I gave him the other day.


Candice Diamond: And if he’s not?!


(A look of worry comes over her face.)


Sahara: Then we’re fucked.


(As Candice not so carefully shows Terry Bull the door, Sahara suddenly stops and gazes at an object in the corner of the room. Quickly approaching it, her face suddenly covers up the entire EWA-Tron–)


Sahara: What the fuck is this?!


(Candice looks over, a look of surprise in her eyes.)


Candice Diamond: Jesus, are we wired for sound?!


(Yanking at something with a snarl on her face, the feed suddenly cuts leaving the snarling image of Sahara on the big screen.)


VA:  What the hell is going on here tonight, Malone?! I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit!


MM:  What’s going on is paranoia is spreading through HATE like a disease, and for the first time in a long time, the EWA Warriors are righting the ship and taking the war to HATE.


(We cut to the back where we see Stacy Vandervort, pacing as she looks over some papers she has in her hands.  She shuffles through them, clearly deep in thought regarding the way things have been going of late. She stops pacing, however, when she senses someone standing just offscreen.  She doesn’t seem too concerned as the camera zooms back to reveal none other than EWA Combat Champion Buck Dresden. The Southern crowd’s massive cheering can be heard echoing through the arena halls.  It’s enough to make Buck grin like he can’t help himself.)


Buck Dresden:  Stacy, Miss Vandervort, hope everything’s going okay tonight.


(She sighs but forces a smile in response.)


Stacy Vandervort:  Buck, how can I help you this evening?


Buck Dresden:  Yes, ma’am.  I know you saw what happened at Fight Night?


Stacy Vandervort:  With you and Sterling?


(Buck flinches as though it pains him to hear that.)


Buck Dresden:  Ma’am, a double DQ ain’t exactly…


(Suddenly, Sterling appears from the other side.  He stands there, eye to eye with the Combat Champion.)


Sterling: Oh, looky looky. Well, if it isn’t Buck fuckin’ Dresden. So glad you showed the world the kind of man you are. This match was mine, but because YOU decided to have your little war with HATE, I’ve paid for it twice over. Our match was collateral damage, to a blind fool like you… but my match with Yoshida? I wasn’t 100% going into it, thanks to yoh. That isn’t something that I’m just going to accept.


Buck Dresden:  Sterling, man, truthfully I hate what happened an’ I…


Sterling:  Save it, “Champ”.  You are the Combat Champion and when you face someone in combat it ends with one standing the victor and the other, fallen, as the loser. That’s how it’s supposed to be. It’s that simple… or do you need further education in what it takes to represent Combat?


(Buck’s fists tighten.)


Buck Dresden:  Okaaaay…just oozin’ testosterone.  Anyway, Stacy, that’s what I came here ta talk to you about.  I ain’t good with the way things went down on Fight Night. HATE ruined things with me an’ Jester, they ruined things with me an’ Sterling.  Bottom line, I am done playin’ around. Sterling deserves to face me fer real, so that’s what I wanna do.


Stacy Vandervort:  I think I can manage that, gentlemen.  Sterling, you can have your rematch with Buck Dresden and…


(Buck holds his hand up to stop her.)


Buck Dresden:  Sorry to interrupt ma’am.  But there’s a couple things I want.  First, he an’ I ain’t gonna stress about interference from nobody.  I want to face Sterling in a steel cage. He wants to see what Combat means, he can prove himself against me for real.  Battlelines 44. That work?


(Sterling nods his head, a sneer across his face as his mind immediately begins running a million scenarios running all kinds of possible tangents from Buck’s suggestion.)


Stacy Vandervort:  Okay, Buck, that’s fair.


(Buck turns to her.)


Buck Dresden:  Regardless of what he’s earned or what he’s not earned, I keep tellin’ the people I’m their champion.  This division is theirs. I cain’t do that if’n I ain’t defendin’ this division against any an’ all comers.  Don’t put me in a non-title match again, please. It don’t make no nevermind to me nothin’ else. I want Sterling to face me in a steel cage for the Combat Championship at Battlelines 44.


(Sterling seems almost surprised for a moment, his eyebrows arching for the briefest of time before furrowing back into his focused glare.)


Stacy Vandervort:  That goes against my better judgment but, Buck, if you walk out of here the Combat Champion tonight, you can defend it against Sterling.  Otherwise, the match will be a regular match held in a steel cage. Does that sound fair?


Buck Dresden:  Yup.


Sterling:  Absolutely.


(Buck offers his hand to Sterling.)


Buck Dresden:  Fer whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry this shit’s gotten you involved.  I hope you’n me can have a fair shot at it.


(Sterling looks down at the hand for what feels like an eternity before finally taking the hand, his eyes still locked on Buck’s.)


Sterling:  So do I, Dresden.  So do I.


(Buck nods to Sterling and then to Stacy.  With that, the two men leave Stacy once again, almost leaving simultaneously.  Stacy sighs before she goes back to reading over her paperwork, as we fade to ringside.)


non-title match





Mojave’s entrance felt a bit less energetic than usual, opting to stride to the ring with his eyes focused intently on the squared circle and simply rolling into the ring under the bottom rope rather than leaping from the ground to the apron. Once inside the ring he demanded Nikki Rogers get on with her job of introducing his opponent, who it seemed he was ready to tear into with a furious rage. The EWA World Heavyweight Champion NOTHING made his way to the ring with his usual confident demeanor, a sheepish grin across his face as he watched Moe seeth in the center of the ring, pacing back and forth impatiently. The impatience wouldn’t last, though, as Moe would launch himself through the ropes with a diving crossbody block on the Champion before he had a chance to enter the ring!


The two men brawled on the arena floor with Mojave having the upperhand due to the element of surprise being on his side, but as he rolled NOTHING into the ring the tables would turn. As the referee was gathering up NOTHING’s accessories – his entrance gear and the EWA World Heavyweight Title – The Purveyor would get to his feet and catch Moe with a low kick as the former Tag Team Champion made his way into the ring. From this point onward, NOTHING would punish Mojave with strikes around the head and neck, being sure to keep Moe on a short leash as to not allow him to gain any more of an advantage.


NOTHING attempted to put this one away with Darkness Falls, but Mojave was able to rotate the Champion onto his feet and locking him in position for Quicksand. Being so close to the ropes, NOTHING was able to reach out and grab the top rope to keep himself on his feet as Mojave hurled himself backwards and into the turnbuckles. As Moe begin to pull himself to his feet, NOTHING ran to the opposite corner and returned with a fully realized Pure Hate crushing the face, and the hopes, of the brother of The Crimson Queen.


VA:  That’s what he gets for jumping the EWA World Heavyweight Champion before the bell, Malone!


MM:  A decisive win here for the champion to be sure, but Mojave was just a heartbeat away from dragging NOTHING down with Quicksand!


VA:  The only thing Mojave drags down is everybody around him – and that’s with his personality, not his finisher. This is just one more chapter in his pathetic life falling apart!


MM:  That’s a bit harsh, Vincent– but… but I don’t think NOTHING is done with him just yet!


(NOTHING is back to his feet, holding the EWA World Heavyweight Title high over his head as the official helps Mojave back to his feet in the corner. NOTHING cocks his head to the side and drops the title to the canvas before taking a couple of steps back….and charging forward!)


MM:  What the hell is he doing?!




MM:  He just posted off of the back of Rick Iley, kneeling down to help Mojave to his feet, and rammed his knee into Mojave’s face once more! What’s the meaning of this?!


VA:  He’s got to teach the kid a lesson, Malone! You don’t take a cheap shot at the World Heavyweight Champion, and you don’t threaten to bring down the empire he created!


MM:  Or is he sending a message to other members of the MacKay family, Vincent? Things don’t seem to be so tight-knit in the House of HATE as of late–


VA:  YOU SHUT YOUR DIRTY MOUTH! The House is fine, and The Crimson Queen fill fit right in! Just give her some time!


(As the crowd hurls jeers and insults toward NOTHING, he pulls Mojave to the center of the ring. The younger MacKay is on his knees as NOTHING holds him up by the hair with his left hand, slapping him across the face with his right. He leans down to Mojave and says something to him before turning and hitting the ropes…)


VA:  YES! Do it again!


MM:  He’s going to nail him with Pure Hate agai–


VA:  And the crowd is loving it!


MM:  No, they’re loving something else! NOTHING just hit the ropes, then bailed out of the ring because JESTER SMILES is charging down the ramp!


VA:  Oh, come on! Does this guy know how to spoil a party or what!? Doesn’t drink, has wild mood swings, puts an end to a good old fashioned beating! What a waste of space!


MM:  Jester slides into the ring and stands in front of Mojave, and he’s just shooting daggers at the EWA World Heavyweight Champion who is retreating on the arena floor with the championship slung over his shoulder.


VA:  I don’t like the way you said ‘retreating’, Malone, and the insinuation it brings along with it. This is strategy! He made an example out of Mojave, and he got under the skin of Jester Smiles who, for whatever reason, saw it fit to stick his nose into the matter.


MM:  Either way, NOTHING and Jester are separated by distance but you’ve got to believe that sooner or later that distance will close and Jester will make good on his promise to bring down the House of HATE!


VA:  HAH! Keep on dreaming, you buffoon! It’ll never happen!


(As Jester helps Mojave to his feet, NOTHING exits over the barricade and through the crowd with the EWA World Heavyweight Title slung over his shoulder and a cocksure grin on his face as he backs out of the arena. He brushes off the fans around him who are pelting him with insults and trash before ducking into an exit. Jester helps Mojave out of the ring, where the youngster shakes the cobwebs out, and makes his way up the ramp under his own power alongside Jester, who keeps a keen eye over his shoulder lest The Purveyor strike again.)




(We cut to a room backstage as a “Previously Recorded” notification appears in the corner of the screen. Seated in a chair is Terry Bull, microphone in hand. A few feet from him is Coca-Cola Rua, sporting a red Coca-Cola Classic tshirt, the neck ripped and sleeves removed. He’s sitting with the chair backwards, straddling it like a little kid.)


Terry Bull: Ladies and Gentlemen…


Coca-Cola Rua: Ladies especially!


Terry Bull: Back at Fight Night 12, this man seated across from me, one of the pound-for-pound strongest men in the industry, Coca-Cola Rua, had quite the eventful evening. So let me ask, just how surprised were you with how things went down during your match with Sahara?


Coca-Cola Rua: Terry, that whole thing sucked. SUCKED. Like through a straw. Like a straw in a bottle of ice-cold Coca-Cola. SUCKED!


Terry Bull: So it didn’t go as you thought it would?


Coca-Cola Rua: Hell no, it didn’t! I thought that Sahara and I had an understanding, and that I was going to scratch her back and that she’d scratch mine and that by the end of the night we’d be doing more back-touching in a more intimate situation.


Terry Bull: Needless to say, that’s not how things went down!


Coca-Cola Rua: Damn right it’s not! And I tell you what, I’m getting damn tired of getting played like a fool around here by people who won’t just sack-up and throw hands! First it was McCoy, which is frustrating because she turned the World Wide Bushido Buntai against me and they still haven’t sent over that contract we had been negotiating… now it’s Sahara…. When’s Big Daddy gettin’ what he deserves?


Terry Bull: That begs the question, are you adding your name to the ever-growing list of people targeting Sahara and HATE?


Coca-Cola Rua: Clearly you didn’t see what I did, Terry, so I’ll clue you in. Standing there, next to Sahara, whether it was backstage or in that ring, I saw that glimmer in her eyes. She wants to take a sip of Big Daddy’s beverage, so, no, I ain’t targetin’ her nor her friends, but I do have to warn the rest of this place… I’m all shook up and ready to explode, who knows where my fizz is gonna end up!!


Terry Bull: Well… I, uh….


(As Terry fails to come up with a response to what Rua just said, it doesn’t matter, because the big guy gets up from his seat and starts to walk off. As he gets a few feet away from where the interview was being held, members of Kharrion walk by, and Rua’s eyes fixate on Jennifer Dowling.)


Coca-Cola Rua: Damn, girl, get you in the right outfit… that body deserves a better stage than that!


(By the time Jennifer realizes that Rua was talking to her, they lock eyes for a moment, then Rua gives her “the nod” before he turns and walks off. Dietrich notices the distraction, also realizing that the comment he overheard was directed their way, and he turns his attention on the direction Rua is walking.)


Johan Dietrich: What? Ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Nah, brotha, that ain’t cool.


Jennifer Dowling: Joey, we’ve got bigger fish to fry. Business first!


(As she tries to re-focus Dietrich on the task at hand, Jennifer just puts her arm out to stop him from going in Rua’s direction, the meathead not having heard Dietrich’s comment. Still fuming and ready to fight, Dietrich listens to Jennifer and they continue on their way.)


winner receives combat championship match at battlelines 44



katsuro yoshida


Familiar with one another from their previous two encounters, it was obvious very early in the match that they were very familiar with one another.  Sterling and Katsuro both had trouble instituting a gameplan, and the growing frustrations exploded very early into a flurry of strikes. Once Katsuro saw Sterling favoring his neck after a swift snap suplex, he realized that his opponent had not fully recovered from the beating he took from HATE at the previous show. Utilizing this to his advantage, Katsuro changed his gameplan and targeted the neck, slowing the pace and catching Sterling in neck cranks and modified headlocks, including a Dragon Sleeperhold that took considerable energy to escape.


Sterling fought valiantly, catching his opponent flat-footed on two occasions which nearly resulted in the end of the match, Katsuro escaping a pinfall attempt and narrowly escaping a submission where he barely got to the rope and slithered to the outside. It was a Side Russian Legsweep that turned the tide for Yoshida, and when he saw the opening, he wrapped up Sterling in an Anaconda Choke, arching his back into a bridge to wrench in more on the neck, and Sterling tapped out once he realized it was futile to continue trying to escape, saving his neck from further damage. After the match, the two showed signs of respect for one another in the ring before departing separately.




(We fade backstage, where a frustrated Rick Remington stands, head bowed with his arms braced against a locker, a large ice pack placed across the back of his neck. Dejected after losing in such embarrassing fashion to Alexander Haven earlier in the night, he shakes his head in frustrating, yelling out as he slams an open palm into the locker, the loud rattling sound filling the locker room. As the echo fades, a voice cuts in from behind him.)


Mojave: Hey man, that was a brutal match.  


(Remington looks up, almost snarling at the appearance of his fellow student of Sinnocence…and brother to the woman who broke his leg.  Moe gives his fellow warrior a sympathetic expression.)


Rick Remington: Fuck off, Moe.


Mojave: Hey, I’m not here to be an asshole.  I just wanted to let you know someone’s here for you.  God knows you’re not the only one to suffer a humiliating loss lately, man.  It’s a tough break, but—


(The older man shakes his head looking out to the hallway, he doesn’t see Remington pushing himself up to launch a vicious suckerpunch at Mojave’s jaw.  Moe rocks from the blow, looking up at Remington with confused eyes before throws a right. The younger man does his best to dodge, but Mojave catches him anyway.  A brawl explodes between the two, catching the attention of several backstage personnel. The two Warriors slam each other back and forth against the lockers until a slew of security rushes the the pair and pulls them apart.)


Rick Remington: Fuck you!  


Mojave: Fuck yourself, man!  I didn’t do anything to you!!




(NOTHING is pacing in the locker room, thinking about the events of the evening thus far.  Allison Haines appears, microphone in hand.)

Allison Haines:  NOTHING…NOTHING…I wanted to have a word with you.  Indrid Calder and Cal Rayner have been laid out tongiht and the attempted domination of HATE has been ground to, some would call it a stunning halt.  What do you have to say about the rumors that tonight is considered a failure for HATE?

NOTHING:  Allison, I…

(NOTHING freezes and the camera pans out to reveal…BUCK DRESDEN.)

NOTHING:  …do you have something to say to me?

(Buck nods his head as he slowly pushes Allison back.)

Buck Dresden:  Where I’m from, you have a bully on the playground, you punch them out in front of the whole school so the whole world sees it.

(NOTHING looks Buck up and down.)

Buck Dresden:  Ya take out his supporters however ya need to, but you let the king bully know to his face…

(Buck takes a step towards NOTHING.)

Buck Dresden:  …yer comin’ straight for him.

(Without warning, Buck LEVELS NOTHING with a quick Lariat!  NOTHING scrambles to his feet and throws a punch, but Buck snatches NOTHING’s wrist and slings him around…BUCK SHOT!  Buck keeps the firm wrist guard locked and picks NOTHING back up, throwing him over his shoulder. He walks over to a nearby table with various duffel bags from various Warriors on it…and DROPS NOTHING through the table, shattering it into splinters!  The fans are ERUPTING as NOTHING tries to regain consciousness, but Buck takes a step back, motioning for Allison to step back into frame.)

Buck Dresden:  Do you know what that was, brother?

(He holds up three fingers.)

Buck Dresden:  That was three.

Allison Haines:  Wait, Buck, so once and for all, are you responsible for all the attacks on HATE tonight?

(Buck laughs as he puts his arm around Allison, looking dead in the camera.)

Buck Dresden:  Don’t need no flowery speeches.  Don’t need no long winded strategies.  I told y’all I’m comin’. I told y’all to expect me.  I told y’all to get ready fer me. Well, Pillars of HATE…

(He turns to Allison, leaning into the microphone.)

Buck Dresden:  …Buck Dresden is here.

(Buck walks off, leaving NOTHING to begin pulling himself from the wreckage.  His face is twisted in fury as Allison looks down at him before scurrying off, not wanting to see the vengeance on NOTHING’s mind for the Bluegrass Bad Ass who has planted himself firmly in HATE’s crosshairs.


Fade to ringside.)


path of the warrior ii first round tournament match

Josh kaine


Jester smiles


MM:  Alright, next up, we have another quarter final match up in the Path of the Warrior tournament! Josh Kaine is taking on Jester Smiles. Former Tag Team Champion taking on a former Combat Champion.


VA:  I like Josh’s new attitude. I think Cal Rayner is turning him from a puppy into a beast, and I honestly can’t wait to see him rip Jester Smiles limb from limb. So tired of that sad clown.


Aaah! Aaah! Aaah! Aaah!

The raspy and electric voice of Alice in Chains’ Layne Staley and those distinctive guitar riffs  suddenly starts over the speakers of the arena, igniting a pop from the crowd. The heir to Valhalla himself appears from backstage, a decidedly dark grin on his face as he walks slowly down the ramp with his arms at his sides.  Josh Kaine has a new focus…and is decidedly alone. Though he carries a mask with curly hair attached to it…


NR:  Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and is a Path of the Warrior Tournament match! Introducing first, weighing in tonight at ONE HUNDRED and NINETY POUNDS…he is the HEIR OF VALHALLA…JOSH…KAINE!


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

Josh climbs up onto the ring apron and smiles before climbing through the ropes.  He lifts that mask to reveal it as a clown’s face…pantomiming a laugh behind it.  The son of Sinnocence retreats to his corner then, letting the mask fall to the mat…before stomping it with his boot.  A silent declaration of war as he awaits his opponents’ arrival.


MM:  Josh letting it be known right now what he intends to do in this match. There is a darkness surrounding him that I’m not used to, but maybe that is just focus.


As “Them Bones” fades out, the arena suddenly goes completely dark. Two candles appear on the big screen, one with a green flame, one with a purple flame. “The Hero” by Jonathan Young (Jam Project cover) hits over the speakers. The crowd begins to buzz.


VA:  Ugh…did he change his intro to make his entrance even longer?




Jester BURSTS from the back, an explosion of purple and green pyros shooting off as the lights come back on! He stands at the top of the ramp, a big smile on his face. He points down the ring at Josh, turning his finger into a fist.


3 2 1, KILLSHOT!


Jester slams his fists against the ground, doing the classic ‘superhero landing’, as more green and purple pyros shoot off. Jester then stands up and begins to make his way to the ring, high fiving fans, but not taking his eyes off of Josh Kaine.


NR:  And his opponent, weighing in tonight at TWO HUNDRED and SIXTY FIVE POUNDS…JESTER…SMILES!


Jester leaps onto the ring apron and stands on the apron for a second, staring down Josh, still smiling. Josh looks focused, leaning over, hands on his knees, locking eyes with Jester. There is no smile on Kaine’s face, just a calm, collected gaze that hides viciousness.


MM:  Very different vibes from the opponents here. Jester looks ready, but he also looks…excited? Like, he looks like he is looking forward to this. Josh just looks like he’s ready to murder.


VA:  Clown boy is about to get his smile ripped off.


The bell rings. Jester offers Josh his hand as a show of respect. Josh stares at it for a second, studying the hand, before reaching out his own. The fans pop for a second…until Josh tries to catch Jester off guard and lock in the Fenrir’s Bite! The crowd boos as Jester wriggles out. The next few minutes consist of Jester trying to get his hands on Josh and pummel him, but Josh is able to keep his distance, evading the blows from Smiles. The beginning is fairly one sided. Josh uses his superior speed to hit and run, and while he isn’t able to do significant damage to the much larger Smiles, Jester is still clearly frustrated. Finally, at about the three and a half minutes, Josh is able to dodge a big shot by Jester, hits the ropes, and knocks Jester down with a moonsault! Josh goes for the pin!






Jester kicks out hard!


MM:  Wow, this match has been all Kaine so far. I don’t think Jester has gotten over the proverbial sucker punch he suffered at the beginning.


VA:  When you back the house, you win. When you don’t back the house, you make a fool of yourself. I mean, he’s a clown, so I can see why he would be used to making a fool of himself, but, still, you get my point.


Kaine stays on the assault, stomping on Jester. He locks in a front facelock. He has this locked in for a bit, keeping Jester grounded and choking him, but Jester comes to life and lifts himself up, slamming Josh to the mat with an improvised spinebuster. Jester takes a second to adjust himself, but Josh comes to life quickly and charges in…and eats a powerful thrust kick for his trouble! Jester is now in control, and he works uncharacteristically methodically, softening Josh with blows before slamming him with suplexes and throws. At one point, Kaine tries to counter with a hurricanrana, but Jester uses his superior size to slam him with a sitout powerbomb!






Josh kicks out in a safe amount of time.


MM:  The size advantage is finally a factor in this match. Usually Jester, even though he is a big guy, is very fast paced, but I think he realizes that he needs to slow the pace and work Kaine, giving him very little room to build up momentum.


Jester gets Josh into the corner. He slams him with a big splash! Josh uses the ropes to stay standing. Jester works him with punches in the corner, but Josh is suddenly able to dodge. He gets behind Jester and tries to slam him with the Berserker Slam, but Jester is able to power out. Jester flips around and tries to get Josh with the Last Laugh suplex, but Josh is able to get out of the bigger man’s clutches.


VA:  This is like David vs Goliath, but Goliath is a big, dumb clown!


Both men charge, looking to lock up, but Josh ducks under, hits the ropes, and catches Jester with a big bulldog take down. He then follows this up with a senton splash! Josh lifts Jester up, but Jester pushes him away and DECKS Josh with a spinning forearm shot! Jester lifts Josh up, looks for the German suplex, and throws Josh, but Josh flips in the air and lands on his feet. Kaine is behind Jester and Jester does not know what is happening! Kaine grabs Jester and, with all his might, lifts him up, but Smiles is able to overpower and not be taken down. Smiles lands on his feet and throws an elbow at Josh. Josh staggers away, but he turns quickly to attack…and gets OBLITERATED by the Wipe the Smile!








NR:  Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, at a time of SEVEN minutes and FORTY FIVE seconds…and moving on in the Path of the Warrior tournament…JESTER…SMILES


Jester is ecstatic! He runs to the nearest turnbuckle and leaps onto it, holding his hands up in victory! The crowd is raucous, super excited to see Jester the victor. Josh gets up, checking his nose and getting his bearings straight. Jester looks over at Josh. He walks over to him and offers his hand, once again, in a sign of respect. Kaine looks down at it and slaps it away, which causes many fans to boo loudly. Kaine seems to not even care, exiting the ring and quickly exiting the arena. Jester looks stunned, but he shrugs it off as Aria Moretti raises his hand in victory!


VA:  Ugh, someone drug test the clown. Steroids has to be the reason he won.


MM:  …what? Jester won because he was able to use his veteran ring sense to react to the situation appropriately. Josh Kaine put up a hell of a fight, though, but I am disappointed that he chose to leave the arena with such disrespect, especially after Jester showed him so much.


VA:  Listen, personally? I’m glad Josh shrugged off that moron.




“Well, well, if it isn’t Blondie. What’s the matter, hon, having problems?”


(Obviously panicked after the news that NOTHING was the most recent attack victim, Sahara is now the lone member of HATE still standing. Now armed with an aluminum baseball bat, she spins when she hears the voice of Stacy Vandervort and storms toward the EWA Executive, but security quickly converges on the blonde who backs away!)


Sahara: Wait! STACY! Please.


(Glancing over both shoulders, Sahara backs up a step or two, maintaining distance between her and the wall of security standing in front of Stacy.)


Stacy Vandervort: I see we’ve taken to carrying protection. What’s the matter?! Did the Queen Bee’s little hive fall apart?!


Sahara: You see what’s going on around here, Stace, please … th-the cowardly attacks on HATE?! I-I need security or something. I shouldn’t have to walk around worrying about my safety like this. I shouldn’t even be competing tonight, let alone defending the Tag-Titles at Battlelines 44. The EWA is out of control–


Stacy Vandervort: Are you kidding me, Lauren?! YOU of all people whining about cowardly attacks?!


(The EWA Executive scoffs.)


Stacy Vandervort: Now you know how it feels. And I got some news for ya, sweetie, not only will you still compete tonight, one-on-one against Buck Dresden for the Combat Title as scheduled, but you WILL be defending those tag-titles you’ve held hostage since winning them on the next Battlelines, whether Calder is around to help you or not. I told you, I’m done with your games! But like I said, think of it as an opportunity. You wanna stem the drop off in your popularity?! Well, this is how you’re gonna do it.


(Sahara shakes her head as she backs away in full on panic mode–)


Stacy Vandervort: What, the mic queen got nothing smart to say?!


Sahara: F-fine, Stacy, you think I care?! I’ll go over yer head to the man that really matters around here, Alexander Haven. He’ll see how unfair this is…


Stacy Vandervort: You think Haven’s gonna do anything on your behalf?!


(Stacy threw her head back and laughed.)


Stacy Vandervort: Oh, Lauren, bless your sweet blonde heart.


(A visibly shaken yet angry Sahara looks around to make sure she’s safe from attack, before she points the baseball bat squarely at Stacy Vandervort, who remains standing behind her wall of security guards.)


Sahara: FINE. You think I need anyone?! I’m the Queen of HATE, and I ain’t goin’ down without a fight. You tell Buck that I’ll be there tonight! And as for you, you C U Next Tuesday, you castrated a legend tonight. I hope yer proud. You made your husband look like a little bitch…God I can’t wait for Haven to realize what a fuckup you’ve been in his absence. This place has gone to HELL with you in charge, and your little personal vendetta against me is sinking this place.


Yeah, that’s right!


You sat me down in that stupid fucking office of yours a few weeks ago pretending you wanted to give me an opportunity?! Fuck you and your opportunity, Stace. God I can’t wait for the EWA to cut you loose, you miserable homewrecking failure. I hope you end up homeless, you stupid bitch. No, you know what? I hope you die, and so help me if I get the chance, I’ll be the one that pulls the trigger.


(Slowly backing away, Sahara’s voice rises.)




(Slamming the bat off the concrete floor, it’s ping rattles through the halls of the Colonial Life Arena, as Sahara turns her attention back to looking over both shoulders.


Just then a random EWA worker rushes up to Sahara, whispering something to her as a renewed look over worry spreads over the blondes face.)


Sahara: Candice now?! GODDAMNIT!


(Hurriedly storming off in the direction she came, she continues looking all around her as we fade back to ringside.)


six man tag team match

minxy jones, lagrima & santa muerte


Johan dietrich, kc rockefeller & jennifer dowling


After the Erinyes make their way to the ring, cascaded in audible fanfare (as Malone is quick to point out, their opponents don’t get much love outside of Boston), a hush fills the air as Kharrion makes their entrance. Worries over Dietrich’s health turned to curiosity about Jennifer Dowling’s in-ring debut, but the Erinyes don’t waste time, starting the match off hot with all three diving onto the opposition. The fight quickly surrounds ringside before the bell even rings, with Santa Muerte taking full advantage of the situation by smashing a chair multiple times over Dietrich’s head. Minxy’s attempts to single out Jennifer early on are cut off by KC, though, who seems to find a hole in Lagrima’s assault whenever Miss Dowling looks to be in trouble. The brawl settles down, both Johan and Muerte already bloodied, as Juan Cardillo calls for the bell.


It appears the pre-emptive melee has calmed each team down, the action taking a surprisingly traditional format in the ring. Dowling, to her credit, shines brighter than expected, frustrating each of the Erinyes with her resilience even if she can’t keep any offensive momentum. Minxy, especially, loses her cool as Jennifer somehow reverses a German suplex attempt into a Triangle Choke, nearly drawing a submission before Lagrima breaks it up. This causes the chaos to come back in full force, though, as Dowling’s brow gets sliced from Lagrima’s elbow, and KC Rockefeller doesn’t approve.


He unloads all over each Erinyes with chops and kicks, drilling Minxy with a particularly long Champion City Ransom before Santa Muerte boots him out of the ring. This brings Dietrich in, and the proverbial shit hits the proverbial fan. Muerte rocks Dietrich with elbows and the Blvnt Force Blitzkrieg responds in kind, both letting the profanities and insults fly. Muerte kicks Dietrich’s leg out and goes for the Sombrabomb, but his size works against her and he picks her up for the Seventh Seal. Minxy frees her partner and Dowling locks her in a Rear Naked Choke, dragging her to the floor as Lagrima dives onto KC in the crowd with an INSANE topé con hilo.


Alone once more, Muerte and Dietrich tee off, with Johan’s size aiding him immensely. He goes for the Drillbit Gvtfvck but she has it scouted, taking him down as he charges in with a springboard Naja de Sangre. She goes for another Sombrabomb but can’t lift him, finally screaming at the top of her lungs before she lifts him up and plants him with it. Dietrich crumbles, landing on the top of his head. She struggles to pull his feet away from the ropes and makes the cover, only the second pinfall attempt of the entire match, and it’s broken up at 2.9 when KC comes crashing down with the Divebomb Renaissance out of nowhere. Before he can make another move, though, Lagrima catches him with the Victimizer, quickly making the cover for the win.




MM:  Folks, earlier tonight, the legendary former four-time EWA World Heavyweight Champion, Chris Kage, shocked the world when he announced he was returning to in-ring competition after suffering a career-ending injury last summer at EWA Champions Summit III —


VA:  Yeah, until the person that wears the pants in the Kage family, Stacy Vandervort, clearly put a stop to that, Malone.


MM:  Nonetheless, right now our very own Terry Bull is backstage, attempting to get a word with the EWA Executive Assistant. Terry?


(We cut backstage to a clearly determined Terry Bull, standing outside of a closed door with the Executive Assistant’s name emblazoned on the front. Bull speaks in hushed tones – and we can clearly hear a male and a female voice, speaking loudly, from the other side of the door.)


Terry Bull: Thanks, Mike. I can confirm that both Stacy Vandervort and Chris Kage are in this very room right now. And as you can hear…


(Bull pauses for a moment, as we can clearly hear the voices shouting at one another…)


Terry Bull: They certainly appear to be angry with one another.


(With no hint of concern for the situation, Bull loudly knocks on the door, calling out.)


Terry Bull: Stacy Vandervort? Terry Bull here, I’d like to get a word with you regarding the evening’s events–


(The door flings open to a clearly distressed and emotional Vandervort, her mascara smeared beneath her eyes, and her hair yanked out of the ponytail it’d previously been in.)


Stacy Vandervort: Make it fast, Terry.


Terry Bull: Earlier tonight, your husband shocked the wrestling world when —


(But that’s all that Bull can get out before Vandervort immediately slams the door in his face! Bull’s jaw drops in shock and anger, as he continues to knock.)

Terry Bull: Hey! The public deserves answers, Stacy Vandervort! Chris Kage! I know you’re in there! Someone talk to me!


(Bull sighs, turning back to the camera.)

Terry Bull: I can’t get an answer out of these two, Mike. I’ll continue trying, but for now, back to you at ringside. (muttering) Allison’s not gonna get this scoop, dammit…




ewa combat championship match



buck dresden




Fog slowly rolls onto the stage as floor lights shine up, casting it in an eerie shade of crimson.  Moments later, a lone spotlight drops down onto the center of the stage … only Sahara is nowhere to be seen!







NR:  Introducing first, from Chicago, Illinois, representing HATE and one-half of the reigning EWA Tag-Team Champion — the Crimsonnnnn Queen — Saharaaaa!





MM:  Where is she?! She’s usually standing there beneath the lights, never missing an opportunity to showcase herself to the masses–


VA:  That’s a good question–wait! There she is!




Rushing out onto the stage with her tag-title draped over a shoulder, she still wields that aluminum baseball bat, but backpedals down the rampway, looking all around her. Over her usual ring attire is a thin black athletic hoodie, with her hair is covered by the hood, but hanging loosely and not in the usual intricate braids she’s become known for, and the look of paranoia is etched onto her face…


Bouncing from foot to foot as if ready for anything, she continues walking backwards down the rampway, ignoring the fans.


MM:  She’s got no one left to trust tonight, Ashe. She’s even taken to covering herself with hood of some sort now, maybe to camouflage herself?! HATE has been decimated over the course of this show and now she finds herself on her own, with her lackey Candice being the latest casualty — and that means she’s become a target to just about everyone in the back.


VA:  What’s happened tonight is a travesty of justice. The EWA locker room has orchestrated the destruction of HATE, leaving the Queen Bee left to defend herself in what should be another crowning achievement of hers in recapturing the EWA Combat Championship, but now she’s so worried for her own safety–


MM:  Does she pay you to make excuses for her, or is this some sort of free service you provide?


VA:  The truth is always free, Malone. That coward, Buck Dresden, clearly masterminded this divide and conquer strategy to knock the Crimson Queen off her game, and from the looks of things, he’s done exactly that. How can she possibly be expected to focus on a championship match when she’s constantly looking over her shoulder?!


MM:  Maybe she should have thought of that before she burned every bridge she’s ever crossed.


Wasting no time to get into the ring, Sahara slowly spins, being sure to scan up, down and all around herself, slowly twirling the baseball bat like a baton as she awaits her opponent. Handing off her tag-team championship to Danny Smith, she clearly argues about relinquishing the bat for the time being.


NR:  And her opponent, from the Great American South, the reigning and defending EWA Combat Champion, The Bluegrass Bad Ass — Buck DRESDEN!!!


I…am a man…of constant sorrow

I’ve seen troubles all my days…


The lights slowly dim and the Jumbotron shows the infamous symbol known the world over…



The fans cheer as smoke billows from the entrance to the arena, covering the stage. “Man of Constant Sorrow” by Charm City Devils kicks in, bringing the EWA fans to their feet so they can see the man they call the Bluegrass Bad Ass. Standing in the entrance, his black cowboy hat dusty and worn and his head bowed, is BUCK DRESDEN.


Buck wears a long black duster coat, just as worn and ragged as the hat, and the Combat Championship dangles from a hand at his side. Devoid of his usual charming demeanor, he glares down the aisle way with a rare scowl on his face direct at his opponent, Sahara.


MM:  Woah, look at the look on Buck’s face tonight. He said it earlier, there’s just one left standing — and now he’s got his sights set on her.


VA:  That’s not just any look, Malone, Buck looks … dare I say angry?


MM:  He saved her for last for a reason, Ashe … I don’t know what that reason was, but we’re in for a hell of a fight tonight!


He walks down the ramp with a purpose, keeping his eyes trained on his opponent, who stands in the ring with that bad on a shoulder, returning a gaze equally as angry.


VA:  This is intense. He hasn’t even hit the ring yet and you can feel the fire. Wow!


He gets to his feet and winks at Nikki as he slides his hat out of the ring.  He slings his coat off of his shoulders to the mat and steps right up into Sahara’s face, both of them angrily jawing at one another. Jumping between them, Danny Smith separates the two as Sahara points at Buck, lift the bat off her shoulder with a menacing glare.


MM:  I’ll openly admit I’ve never wanted to be in the position to stare that woman down, but I’m also not Buck Dresden, and he may have a good seven inches on her but she looks ready to go to war here tonight.


VA:  As she always says, leap then look!


MM:  God Almighty this is intense.


Nodding at the referee as she drops the bat, she kicks it from the ring as Danny Smith finally motions for the bell. The two slowly circle the ring, keeping their eyes trained on one another as the anticipation builds. As they circle, they slowly come closer and closer together, the fans growing more restless by the second. Looking up at him as she takes a step forward, he does the same, only he looks down into her eyes.


Giving him a wink, she suddenly moves to lock up with her much larger opponent, but does so by also grabbing a fistful of his hair, wrenching his head back to gain an edge. Danny Smith immediately grabs at Sahara’s hand and begins the hard five count only Buck steps back and braces himself, pulling her forward, he lets out a ROAR and LAUNCHES Sahara off of him, sending her airborne where she CRASHES back against the turnbuckles, prompting a massive pop from the crowd! With her arms settling to a resting position over the top ropes on either side of the turnbuckles, she begins to smile, but Buck charges her, prompting her to drop to the mat and roll from the ring!


Smoothing out her hair, the fans boo as she nods — but Buck reaches over the top rope and GRABS TWO HANDFULS OF HER HAIR! Screaming, she kicks her legs and grabs hold of Buck’s hands–


VA:  He’s lifting her up by the damn hair!


MM:  He’s out for blood and he intends to collect!


Pulling her clear up onto the ring apron, he spins her and grabs her under the arms, LAUNCHING her over the top rope back into the ring where she slams off the bat, grabbing her lower back!


MM:  These fans keep on gettin’ louder!


VA:  He looks like he’s ENJOYING this, Malone. I’ve never seen Buck like this before!


MM:  He’s a man on a mission, and that mission is to destroy HATE once and for all.


Relentless in his assault, Buck is on her again, yanking her back to her feet, he wraps his fists in her shirt and backs her up against the turnbuckles, saying something inaudible to her face.


Looking up at him, she SPITS directly in his face as he lets out a yell, LAUNCHING her from one corner to the other, where she SMASHES off the turnbuckles and falls to her knees! Charing forward, Buck CRUSHES her into the corner where she falls flat on her face!


MM:  Yes. YES!


VA:  This has been nothing short of total domination–


Grabbing her by the hair, she grasps his hand and lashes out, raking at his eyes, momentarily blinding him! Falling back to a knee, she grabs her lower back, taking a moment to recover.


VA:  Clever girl … if he can’t see, he can’t attack!


Back to her feet, Sahara glances at Danny Smith before looking back at Buck Dresden with a smirk on her face. Grabbing him by the wrist, Sahara shoves Buck up against the ropes for momentum and sends him directly at Danny Smith!!!


MM:  Smith ducked out of the way just in the nick of time, what the hell is she doing?!


VA:  She’s brilliant, Malone. Absolutely brilliant.


Wiping out his eyes to clear his vision, Sahara doesn’t give him much of a breather before she charges at him again, only Buck catches her by the throat! Clawing at his forearm, Buck SHOVES her away, and she spins, narrowly missing Danny Smith with an accidental collision!


VA:  Smith better get out of the way, Buck Dresden just tried to throw her right at him! What the hell is that coward doing?!


MM:  Oh, you are SO full of it. That’s twice in a row she’s tried to cause a ref bump — she knows exactly what she’s doing. I honestly wish it didn’t look like Buck was trying to end this so fast, because I wanna see her suffer.


VA:  That’s really nice of you, Malone, but that’s not the kind of man Buck Dresden is.


Charging at Buck, she wraps her arms around his midsection, attempting to run him back into the turnbuckles, but his sheer size and weight advantage are too much, as Buck merely crashes down with a double axe handle and drops her to her knees. Grabbing her by an arm, and a leg, he ragdolls her across the ring, where she skids to a stop, looking up at Buck with a snarl on her face.


Charging again, Sahara LAUNCHES herself at Buck, connecting with a flying knee into the corner. Grabbing the ropes, she lands on the second rope and springs off, but BUCK CATCHES HER! Kicking her legs wildly to break free, she slips out of his grasp and dropkicks a knee! Quickly scrambling to her feet, she follows it up with a stomp, collapsing her larger opponent to a knee.


MM:  She’s scrappy, I’ll give her that.


VA:  Goonies never say die! Sahara knows the way to a man’s heart, and a way to rip it out of his chest.


MM:  I bet.


As Buck goes to stand, pulling himself up by the ropes, Sahara launches herself shoulder first into the back of Dresden’s knee, taking him down a second time. As Buck grabs for his knee, Sahara is kicks at it, stomping down repeatedly on the right knee of of the Combat Champion. Standing up, Sahara drops and elbow into the back of Buck’s leg and gets back to her feet, planting her foot behind the knee, she lifts the leg and SMASHES it down into the mat!


VA:  That’s what we call a size neutralizer, Malone. If they can’t walk, they can’t run!


MM:  Do you mean stand?


VA:  That too.


Bouncing off the ropes, Sahara goes for a running dropkick but the power of Buck is on display as he swats her legs aside and SLAMS her into the canvas in one deft move! The crowd cheers as a fired up Buck Dresden attempts to get to his feet, but his leg gives out, sending him back to the mat. Back on her feet, Sahara approaches Buck while glancing over her shoulder at Danny Smith–BUCK SHOVES HER OFF! Spinning from the momentum of the shove, Sahara diverts her trajectory and COLLIDES with Danny Smith, charging him hard into the turnbuckles, flattening the ref! The crowd boos as Danny Smith collapses to the mat!


MM:  Oh my good God, that was so obvious!


VA:  I–are you insinuating that sweet angel of mercy did that on purpose?! Look at the strength and power of Buck Dresden. It’s clear he just used Sahara as a projectile weapon and took out the referee. He should be disqualified right now!


MM:  Oh please, look at the replay. She literally glances over her shoulder at Smith as she approaches Buck, knowing he’d shove her away, and then she literally changes course and charges right at him and crushed him into the corner. Ju–just look at the smile on her face!


VA:  And what a beautiful smile it is — now let’s see what she’s got in store for Mr. Dresden now that his tag-team partner Danny Smith is taken out!


MM:  So now the referee is his tag-team partner?! Just stop it.


Grabbing his knee as a smiling Sahara drops down and rolls out of the ring, she retrieves the baseball bat she set aside at the start of the match and glares through the ring ropes at Buck, slowly lifting it and pounding the head of the bat against her palm.


VA:  That Louisville got yer name written all over it, Buck!


The crowd boos as Sahara SLAMS the head of the bat into the ring steps, sending that echoing ping over the arena. Slowly climbing the steps, Buck gets to his feet but falls back against the ropes, his knee still not fully recovered from her previous attack. The crowd CHEERS as Buck motions for her to get into the ring!


MM:  He’s READY!


VA:  He’s NUTS! He can barely stand and he’s still putting on the brave face! Good luck, BUCK!


Exchanging a look from the ring apron, Sahara steps through the ropes and immediately takes a sloppy swing at Buck! He dodges left, his knee once again collapsing him part way to the mat but he rolls away as the bat once again narrowly misses, bouncing off the mat, Sahara has to improvise and dodge her own attack, which brings laughter and cheers from the audience! Rolling to his knees as Sahara CHARGES, but Buck steps aside from a third swing of the bat and sends Sahara chest first into the corner buckles! Rebounding from the momentum, Buck grabs her in a bearhug, the bat locked between the two of their chests — BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX!


As the two crash down into the mat, Buck bounces off Sahara clutching his own chest from the collision of the bat sandwiched between them, the bat skitters away, near the corner and Sahara flails on the mat, holding her chest in agony!


MM:  Look at the impact of that move! He may have done as much damage to himself as he did to her!


VA:  Once again, Buck Dresden resorting to using foreign objects to take down the far superior Sahara in another of his pathetic, cowardly attacks.


MM:  You have GOT to be kidding me, Ashe! She took THREE swings at him with that bat, striking out in the process before he smashed her with that belly to belly — she got what was coming to her, and she’s lucky Danny Smith didn’t see any of it or this match would have been called via disqualification and her chance to regain that Combat Championship would be over!


Rolling toward the bat, Sahara reaches out and scrambles to grab it as Buck gets back to his feet, wincing from the pain of the bat against his chest. There to meet her, he grabs Sahara by the back of the shirt and yanks her to her feet — without looking she spins and knocks Dresden right off the top of the head with the butt end of the bat! Grabbing the crown of his head in surprise, Buck falls back, blinking wildly as a stream of blood comes down his forehead!


MM:  Oh, come on, not again!


VA:  Might not be a home-run swing, but she good a good piece of him! She’s gonna do it, Malone! Buck’s busted open like a sieve and he’s got nowhere to run! Sa–Sahara, get rid of it, Danny Smith is coming around!


Back to his hands and knees, the referee shakes out the cobwebs, trying to gather his bearings.


MM:  I’m not sure she even cares anymore, Ashe, that’s the same look in her eyes when she took out Michael Draven many moons ago! She’s gonna take his damn head off!


Dazed in a seated position on the mat, Sahara stands next to buck, as if he were “home plate” as she slowly mocks the Babe Ruth point with the bat up toward the rafters. Taking a slow practice swing to line up the back of his head, the crowd boos as she looks out at them with a smile. She finally screeches, “Now join yer little friends in hell!”, as she winds up AND SWINGS!




As she goes to take her swing, Danny Smith tackles the bat and yanks it from her hands! Protesting, Smith shoves Sahara away from the prone Buck Dresden, threatening to call for the bell, pointing at the bat he’s now holding in his hands! Shaking her head no, she pleads with Smith not to call for the bell. Shoving her away with the head of the bat, he points it in her face, “This is your last chance, Sahara!”


VA:  Just…forget the damn bat, Sahara! PIN HIM, he’s still out from the last shot!


MM:  I can’t believe Smith is letting this continue…it’s clear she hit him with the foreign object, and Buck is gonna lose because of it, and he narrowly avoided the end of his career there because the bitch took too long to finish him off!


VA:  Yea, but Smith never saw anything, so he can’t second-guess! As far as he’s concerned, she never used it!


Holding her hands up, she points down at the mat as Smith tosses the bat from the ring, Sahara drops down on the bloody Buck Dresden and hooks his leg with a smile.


The entire audience boos but counts along–






Her smile merely grows as her head follows the final count toward the mat!




The crowd EXPLODES as Dresden twists a shoulder off the mat, shoving Sahara off of him in the process!






VA:  DAMNIT! NO! Two and nine-tenths! THAT WAS A SLOW COUNT!




Her eyes wide in disbelief, Sahara immediately yells at Smith over his “slow cadence”, getting to her feet, she charges at him! Danny Smith holds up two fingers in her face as she snarls, knocking his hand out of her face and grabbing him by the shirt! The crowd gets louder and louder as Sahara shoves the referee back into the turnbuckles, balling up her fist–


MM:  Her frustration is boiling over! She’s gonna hit an official now!!!


Taking a swing, BUCK HOOKS HER ARM, AND SPINS HER AROUND TO A MASSIVE POP! Attempting to improvise a closeline, Buck blocks it and grabs her in a bearhug and launches her overhead with a HUGE modified suplex! Crashing to the mat amidst the massive cheers from the crowd, Sahara grabs her lower back!




Rolling toward the corner, Sahara pulls herself up next to the turnbuckles, but Desden CRASHES his entire two hundred and sixty pound fram into her, CRUSHING her into the buckles. A wince on her face, she falls to her knees in the corner, spinning taking a feeble swing at Buck in retaliation. Grabbing her by the shirt, he shoves her back into the turnbuckles before LAUNCHING her half way across the ring like a ragdoll.


MM:  I think Buck’s had enough of Sahara! It’s okay, Mr. Dresden, we’ve ALL had enough of her!


VA:  Speak for yourself! C’mon, Calder, NOTHING, someone! ANYONE!


Back on his feet, shaking out his knee, Buck grabs two fistfuls of her platinum hair as she grabs his wrists, pulling her up to her feet!




Spinning her around, Buck kicks her in the gut, doubling her over. Grabbing her left arm he hooks it into a pumphandle slam, bringing the crowd to its feet. As blood continues to trickle down his face, Buck looks out toward the entrance ramp, locking eyes with NOTHING bringing boos from the crowd!






Wasting no time with the appearance of NOTHING, Buck lifts Sahara with ease, PLANTING her into the mat with a modified Michinoku Driver!


MM:  That’s the rarely seen Cattle Driver!


The crowd boos as NOTHING charges down the rampway, sliding into the ring, only Buck is there to greet him, grabbing NOTHING by the back of his head, he uses his momentum to send the HATE member clear over the top rope, changing those boo’s to another massive pop from the crowd! NOTHING CRASHES to the outside, slamming into the ringside barrier as Buck immediately drops down onto Sahara for the pin, hooking BOTH of her legs!








At the last second, Buck is YANKED from the ring by NOTHING, as a visibly upset Danny Smith has had enough and calls for the bell! Grabbing a chair and slamming it shut, NOTHING wastes NO time and brings it down across Buck’s back, not allowing him to get to his feet!


NR:  The winner of this match by result of a disqualification … and STILL EWA Combat Champion — BUCK DRESDEN!!!




The bell rings again, signifying the end of the match, but NOTHING CRUSHES the chair against Buck a second and even a third time!






Rolling to her side in the ring holding her neck in pain, Sahara motions for NOTHING to get Buck back into the ring! Pushing herself up to her knees, she watches on as NOTHING slides the chair into the ring for her and rolls Buck in beneath the bottom rope. Sweeping her hair back, NOTHING gets into the ring and grabs Buck, yanking him to his feet. Finally pushing herself upright, gritting her teeth, Sahara grabs hold of the chair and looks at Buck Dresden for a few moments. Flexing her shoulder, she motions for NOTHING — and he SHOVES Buck forward as Sahara swings — a resounding crack floating over the arena as she practically folds the chair over Buck’s head!




Falling like a sack of bricks, that devious smile comes across Sahara’s face as she tosses the chair to the side. The members of HATE grab Buck and shove him up against the turnbuckles, draping his arms over the top rope, the duo repeatedly kick and stomp Buck down into the corner, a few errant pieces of trash hitting the ring, which Sahara turns and kicks away, clearing the mat as best as possible. NOTHING says something to Sahara, to which she nods before both grab Buck by an arm, forcing his near-dead weight to his feet and shoving him back up against the ropes, tying his arms up between the top and middle ropes.


Satisfied Buck is securely tied up into the ropes, Sahara jumps out of the ring to retrieve a mic as NOTHING proceeds to wake Buck up. Before reentering the ring, Sahara smirks as she lifts the skirt of the ring before walking to the other side and doing the same.


MM:  What’s she doing now?!


VA:  I think she lost something…


The crowd boos as Sahara finds what she was looking for, sure to swing it around and show it to the crowd.


VA:  Nevermind, she found it!


MM:  It’s that damn belt again!


Sahara rolls back into the ring as NOTHING shoves Buck by the head, taunting him.


MM:  For god’s sake, someone get out here! They’re going to hang Buck Dresden with that belt!

VA:  Just like she did to Michael Draven, Malone! This is what happens when you cross HATE – you pay the iron price, and Buck’s about to find out exactly what that means!


NOTHING SLAPS Dresden across the face with a hard right, then pistons out with a left, slapping his other cheek even harder, the “crack” reverberating throughout the arena. The boos rain down, and the chords in the Combat Champion’s neck stand out as he lunges forward, struggling to free his arms from the ropes to no avail. Sahara smiles that devious, seductive grin as she saunters toward Dresden, running a manicured finger up the chest of the Bluegrass Bad Ass. Lifting his chin with the mic so he looks into her eyes, she brings it to her lips.


Sahara: This sure ain’t fantasyland where the cat never catches Tweety Bird.


Sahara motions toward the back.


Sahara: After everything you tried to accomplish tonight, systematically taking us apart, you came up short just like they always do. You got no friends, Buckey. No Smiles. No Kaine. Nobody. That’s the reality of that locker room. They talk a good game, but in the end? There’s HATE, and then there’s everybody else. That’s why I–I mean we always win in the end. Now watch as I bask in your pain … and they do nothing to stop me…


Sahara lets out a seductive moan.


MM:  Look at how much she’s enjoying this … it’s like … it’s like–


VA:  Foreplay?


MM:  Unfortunately, yes…


She leans down, whispering into Buck’s ear softly, the microphone faintly picking up her words to the champion.


Sahara: They say when you choke, you see nothing but red … the color of crimson!


Her voice was almost giddy.


Sahara: Imagine that! That’s the blood vessels collapsing as your system fights for life. Unfortunately, I’ll never know what that feels like, so you’ll just have to show us–


MM:  This is disgusting! When is this going to end? When is enough enough? They already crushed him with a chair…


VA:  Never, Malone! Buck Dresden is about to get exactly what he deserves for the crap he pulled tonight! Stand with HATE, or you won’t stand long…or you’ll be left hanging! Hahaha!


With a smile, Sahara loops the belt around Buck’s neck, as he continues to struggle against the ropes. She nods back at the Purveyor, as she chinches the belt down around his neck as the World Heavyweight Champion nods in return. The tag team champion flexes her calves, savoring the misery of her captive. Grasping the belt in one hand, she steps up onto the bottom rope and prepares to leap over the top rope, to hang Buck in a scene reminiscent of what happened back in January…


…the lights flicker for a moment, as a loud, shrieking burst of feedback blasts through the PA system. Many members of the audience – and even Sahara and NOTHING – instinctively move to cover their ears from the horrendous noise, and we even hear a “thump” as one of the headsets is slammed to the desk on the outside.

VA:  What the fu–


Vincent’s profane comment is never heard, as the lights go from flickering to being completely extinguished, as a nervous energy spreads throughout the crowd. We see brief flashes of light emanating from the crowd, as fans whip out their cell phones to try to grab images of what’s going on in the ring…but the only thing those flashes reveal are the confused expressions on the faces of Sahara and the World Heavyweight Champion. After a few moments, the PA system crackles to life…




VA:  What the hell?


MM:  I don’t understand…




VA:  Malone, what the hell is going on?




After the third gong sounds over the PA system, a guitar riff explodes throughout the arena as Metallica’s ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ queues up. A lone spotlight shines down at the entrance ramp, revealing a figure now standing at the top, clothed in black leather pants, a black shirt, and an eerie skeletal mask covering the face of whomever this newcomer is. Sahara and NOTHING exchange looks, more of annoyance now than confusion, as the figure slowly begins to walk down to the ring, the crushing guitars of Kirk Hammett and Cliff Burton providing a soundtrack for this mysterious figure.


VA:  Malone, do you have anything about a new signee? You’re the one who always gets the inside scoop on these things, nobody tells me anything around here!


MM:  I…I have no idea who this is, Vince. Nobody’s said a word about anyone new to me…I don’t know who this is or what this is about.


VA:  Look at Sahara inviting him into the ring!


As the figure reaches the ring, he (or she?) jumps up onto the ring apron and quickly steps through the ropes and gazes across at NOTHING and Sahara. The lights return to normal and the music slowly fades out as they stare each other down. Slowly, deliberately, the figure reaches up, grasping the edge of the skeletal mask, and in one swift movement, yanks it off…



VA:  NO!!!


The crowd EXPLODES into an overwhelming burst of cheers…




VA:  Look at Sahara, Malone!! She looks like she’s seen a ghost!


Michael Draven, seen for the first time in nearly four months, steps forward, face to face with his former lover, the woman who hung him from the ropes by the neck with a belt the night she joined HATE. Sahara, mouth agape, is clearly shaken by his return, and after a moment of their staredown, a small smile forms over Michael Draven’s face…


MM:  No! Dammit, that bastard!


Malone’s disgust is caused by the EWA World Heavyweight Champion, as NOTHING blindsides Michael Draven with a hard forearm to the side of the head, dropping him to the mat. As if snapped out of a daze, Sahara joins NOTHING in stomping on the fallen Draven, as the boos rain down on the HATE duo.


VA:  Great comeback, Michael! You should’ve stayed retired, you idio–WAIT A MINUTE!!


The crowd ERUPTS in cheers as Buck Dresden manages to free himself from the ring ropes, and immediately tackles NOTHING to the ground, raining down fists! Sahara, like a rabid wolverine, pounces on top of Buck, swinging wild punches down on him…but her eyes suddenly go wide as from behind, Michael Draven grabs a FISTFUL of her blonde locks, dragging the Tag Team Champion to her feet! The crowd ROARS in approval as he spins her around and grabs her by the throat!


MM:  For four months we’ve watched Sahara rain down chaos and torment upon the EWA as a whole, and the those vile comments she made about this man’s unborn baby … we’re finally about to see her get what she deserves!


VA:  She apologized for that, Malone, she doesn’t deserve this!


MM:  She once apologized to Ray Willmott, and we all found out how sincere that was!


VA:  What kind of sick pig of a man are you? She’s whole and innocent and pure! Someone do something! Calder! Rayner! Anyone!


MM:  They were taken out earlier in the night, and it seems clear now that it was either Buck Dresden or MIchael Draven behind all of that!

Sahara desperately claws and scratches at Draven’s arm in an attempt to free herself from his iron grip, her eyes wide, but to no avail. Attempting to kick him between the legs, Michael catches her foot and she hops on one leg trying to plead with him! Draven braces himself and FLINGS her by the throat into the corner turnbuckle, and the crowd explodes in a huge chant of, “WEL-COME BACK! WEL-COME BACK! WEL-COME BACK!!”, as he rushes toward her – but Sahara ducks his attempt at a running lariat, and immediately drops to the mat, rolling outside of the ring and stumbling back up the entrance ramp!


VA:  Run, Sahara! Get the hell out of here!


Inside the ring, the World Heavyweight Champion is clotheslined over the top rope by Buck Dresden, who roars down at the fallen Purveyor, the intensity plastered on his face. Shaking out his wrists from when they were bound tight to the ropes, Buck nods in Draven’s direction with a smile. Draven acknowledges this with a slight nod of his own before returning his gaze toward the stage. Choosing not to go after Sahara, his return having made the statement he desired to deliver here tonight. Sahara’s shocked expression slowly changes to a bit of a twisted smile, as she nods, screaming toward the ring, “Okay, this is what you want? You’ve got it!”


MM:  Ladies and gentlemen, we’re desperately out of time! For Terry Bull, Allison Haines and Vincent Ashe, I’m Mike Malone…we’ll see you at Battlelines 44, and the fifth Warrior’s Trial!


VA:  What a night!


The crowd explodes one more time as we fade on the image of Draven and Buck exchanging a quick embrace in the ring, followed by a shot of Sahara and NOTHING on the ramp…a sinister expression now on the face of the Crimson Queen.


© 1998-2018

EWA Wrestling – a Division of EWA Entertainment

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Alexander Haven vs Rick Remington – Gates

Indrid Calder vs Philip Donovan – Brandon H.

Lou vs Martin Robertson – Chris F.

Mojave vs NOTHING – Corey C.

Sterling vs Katsuro Yoshida – Rob B.

Josh Kaine vs Jester Smiles – Eric M.

The Erinyes vs Kharrion – Andy C.

Sahara vs Buck Dresden – Harlan H.


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