NFW Presents: CRUEL SUMMER! 08/25/2020!

Roger Arden: Ladies and gentlemen, this is your opening contest, scheduled for one fall! Introducing first! From Portland, Oregon! Weighing in at 130 pounds! She is the Scream Queen...DONA...ROTTEN!!

Dona slowly walks toward the ring, her focus squarely in front of her. She tunes out the fans, her mind lingering on the match at hand. A wry grin creeps across her painted face, as she climbs up onto the apron. Dona steps through the ropes, making her way to midring. The Toxic Knockout finally let's her eyes pan across the ringside area, before spitting a thick green mist skyward. Rotten cackles maniacally, and goes to her corner, to await the matches start.

Roger Arden: Her opponent….

The lights go out and bright green static comes up on the video screen.


The intro to "Voodoo" by Nyxx fills the arena as green lasers shoot up and wave around the entrance area and blue strobe lights light up the arena. Shapes start to take form in the static on the screen. The silhouette of a petite woman, a cross, a pot leaf, and a skull. They fade in and out, making you wonder if you actually saw them.


Sativa Nevaeh comes out from the back and stands at the top of the ramp looking over the crowd. Despite wearing a mask, you can tell she is smirking. The crowd rains down hate on her. Sativa starts to make her way towards the ring.

Roger Arden: From Los Angeles, California, weighing in at 127 pounds! Representing The Kingdom! She is Darth Ganja...SATIVA...NEVAEH!!


She makes it to ringside and slides under the bottom rope head first. She crawls over to the nearest turnbuckles and climbs them. She perches atop the ring post, resting one knee upon the top turnbuckle facing inward toward the ring. She throws her head back and takes off the mask, throwing her arms out in a 'welcome the doves' pose. The crowd continues their hatred at her and she just smiles. Sativa grabs the ropes and jumps down. She then heads to her corner and waits for the match to start


The bell rings, and Sativa and Dona step out to the center of the ring. Dona looks ready to say something, a sly look on her face, but before she can speak, Darth Ganja unloads a series of rapid fire chops into the chest of her opponent, driving her back into her own corner. Matthews throws a final chop, but Rotten ducks underneath, slipping out of the corner. She grabs Sativa by the wrist, pulling her forward into a brutal short armed lariat. Nevaeh hits the mat with a groan as the crowd at the beach side offers a mixture of cheers and boos for Dona who is now dragging the former NFW champion to her feet. She looks for a second lariat, but Sativa ducks this one, slipping out of Dona’s grip long enough to jump up and hit an enzuigiri, stunning her opponent and causing her to fall to one knee. Ganja hits the ropes, coming back off the rebound to deliver a dropkick to the side of Rotten’s head, causing Dona to roll out of the ring and to the sand. Sativa looks around the ringside area, then down to Dona, before climbing the turnbuckle in the corner and pointing a finger into the sky.

Nick Hanson: Oh, we know what this is!

Sativa Nevaeh: “I am a leaf on the wind!”

Matt Salvatore: They called this Cruel Summer but it might be Autumn!

Crowd: “Watch how I soar!”

Nevaeh leaps out to ringside, landing in a heap on top of Dona before gingerly climbing to her feet. She grabs Rotten by the hair, and tosses the other woman into the ring. As she slides back in, she sees that Dona is getting to her feet shakily, so Ganja sprints forward, leaping at her opponent only to be leveled by a huge lariat from the Toxic Knockout. Rotten laughs, licking her lips as she circles the fallen former champion. She stops, looking down at Sativa before leaping straight up, coming down in a knee drop, but Matthews rolls out of the way. Dona curses, balling up as her knees hit the mat. Nevaeh grabs Rotten by the wrist, pulling her to her feet. Dona lashes out with another lariat attempt, but Sativa ducks under, coming back with a springboard crossbody that drops her opponent to the mat. Without a pause, Matthews gets Rotten vertical before hitting a reverse STO and locking in Nighty Night in the middle of the ring! The submission is cinched in tight, but Dona is refusing to submit, scratching and clawing her way toward the ropes, but with each motion, her head starts to droop. Sativa cranks down on the hold, and Dona reaches out one last time to try and grab the ropes, but falls limp to the canvas. The referee comes in, checking on Dona before waving his arms and calling for the bell, Rotten having passed out at the hands of Sativa Nevaeh.


Roger Arden: Here is your winner, by way of submission! SATIVA...NEVAEH!!

Nick Hanson: Well, she promised to set the bar for tonight’s matches! She very may well have!

Matt Salvatore: Call it the record for quickest match of the night! Impressive as always!

Nick Hanson: Great opening match by her and Dona Rotten!

Scene opens up with Teresa Duke preparing for her Beach Party Deathmatch with Heidi by wrapping some colorful tape around her hand and wrist as the door to the locker room opens and Jansen Myrrh stalks in and sets her bag on a bench causing Teresa to turn around to see who it is.

Teresa Duke: Jansen Myrrh. Welcome to the beach!

Jansen smirks as she unzips her bag and starts to pull out her gear.

Jansen Myrrh: The beach is fine and all, but I hate sand.

Teresa seems amused as she tears the tape and sets the spool inside her bag before flexing her hands, testing it out.

Teresa Duke: What’s wrong with sand?

Jansen sits down on the bench and continues to look through her bag.

Jansen Myrrh: What’s wrong with sand? I’m going to spend the next two days washing sand out of places I didn’t even know existed.

Teresa laughs

Teresa Duke: Well, it’s the price you have to pay for having fun. You ready for your match?

Jansen seems to be looking for something specific as she digs through her things. She glances up at the question and shrugs.

Jansen Myrrh: It’s a match. In the grand scheme of things, it probably isn’t going to matter. But, it is a match and with the tournament coming up, probably would do me good to get a win in here against a couple of participants.

Teresa Duke: Azurine Vebbins seems to be a constant opponent for you. First in MHW, now in NFW. I won’t lie, I was disappointed to lose the TV title to her on the final MHW show.

Jansen Myrrh: Azurine Vebbins doesn’t get a lot of credit for being as tough as she is because people focus on her stupid tweets and weird accent. But, she always gives me problems in the ring and I’m typically lucky to get a win over her. But, I can’t recall her beating me as of yet, and it ain’t gonna start tonight. I am not too familiar with Tanahashi, just what I see on Twitter. So, it should be an interesting match for sure. What about you? Are you ready for your match with Heidi? Have you been in any deathmatches?

Teresa Duke: This will be my first, but I am sure I will adapt well. Just because we are in the Heidi element, she believes she will easily beat. On paper that will be the case, but it’s more factors than just that. Heidi seeked me out, she came for me and now I must humble her. She thought I would just let it go, that I would forget. I will be the one to beat her at her own games.

Jansen Myrrh: Well go kick her butt for attacking you. She deserves whatever you send her way.

Teresa Duke: Oh, don’t worry. She’s got something coming to her. Speaking of attacks, I haven’t had the chance to thank you for helping me out with Second City a couple of weeks ago. Not sure what their beef with me was, except I pinned Layla, but I beat her fair and square.

Jansen Myrrh: Layla Diaz is a self-entitled little toad. She and I are gonna tangle during this tournament and I’ll shut her big mouth for her. I have no beef with Leah, but she could keep better company. That little twerp is gonna get her head handed to her.

Teresa Duke: Tell us how you really feel.

Jansen laughs.

Jansen Myrrh: I don’t tend to keep things to myself. You know, I was thinking, if you were interested, we could team up now and again. Form some sort of big girls tag team.

Teresa Duke: Thick Girls Club.

Jansen Myrrh: That could be the ticket. What do you say?

Teresa Duke: Definitely down for something like that. I’ve been wanting to get into the tag team division and Teresa Duke and Jansen Myrrh, that sounds like a pretty bad ass tag team to me.

Jansen Myrrh: Then let’s make it so.

Jansen gets up

Jansen Myrrh: I guess I left some of my stuff in my truck. Good luck tonight!

Teresa Duke: You too!

Jansen heads out of the locker room and as the door closes, Leah is leaning up against the wall, waiting.

Leah: You ducking my calls, Myrrh?

Jansen turns around and smirks, letting out a sigh.

Jansen Myrrh: I ain’t ducking you, but I really haven’t felt like talking to you either.

Leah: I noticed. What’s your deal? What was that shit about a couple weeks ago?

Jansen Myrrh: You know that you and I are tight. I just ain’t fond of the company you’re keeping. That little tart of a tag team partner of yours has a big mouth. I am aiming to shut it.

Leah: What’s that supposed to mean?

Jansen Myrrh: I don’t like her. Fair enough? You all wanna jump Teresa Duke? I ain’t letting that happen either.

Leah: When did you get all cozy with Teresa Duke? What we did to her ain’t any different than what we did to folks in MHW and you were part of that too.

Jansen Myrrh: Teresa’s good people. And what we did in MHW was what we did in MHW. The only person we ever jumped where the numbers weren’t about the same was Skrabz. That was just to get his attention. You need Teresa’s attention?

Leah: Is this you now? Come out saving people from beatdowns?

Jansen Myrrh: This is me, tired of not having any championships. I’ve let it slide for far too long.

Leah: So, what? You’re coming for ours?

Jansen Myrrh: Perhaps.

Leah: Doesn’t matter if we’re friends, Jansen. We aren’t dropping these belts.

Jansen Myrrh: I guess you have nothing to worry about. Hold onto them. Perhaps we will be on opposite sides of the ring very soon.

Jansen starts to walk away.

Leah: Red wants your head, you know.

Jansen stops and turns around.

Jansen Myrrh: Tell Layla, she can go fuck herself. If she gets within grabbing distance, I’m going to drop her on her goddamned head.

Jansen turns and leaves. Leah watches her walk away as the scene fades.
We cut to the beach earlier in the day as the crew is busy with setting things up for the night time festivities. The area is closed off, but there are several people trying to get a good look. One person not concerned with that however, is Minoru Tanahashi as he lounges out on a beach chair, feet covered with sand while he lays back. He lays there with simple black trunks and some pink lenses glasses, soaking in the sun and enjoying the sound of the waves crashing in.

Minoru Tanahashi: Ah, this is the life, right? I can’t think of many ways this gets better, can you? I suppose if I had a nice drink right now, maybe a sex on the beach?

He smirks and laughs a little bit as he reaches back and pushes his chair upwards. Now sitting straight up, he raises his glasses to the top of his head.

Minoru Tanahashi: A win later tonight would also make things much better. Get back on track, which it seems as if I am constantly trying to do. One step forward, one step back. I’m no worse than I was when I arrived here in NFW, but I’m not doing much better.

He stops for a second, turns and puts his feet in the sand. He starts to make fist with his feet, feeling the soft soil between his toes.

Minoru Tanahashi: So why am I out here relaxing and thinking about having a cocktail instead of finding a gym and getting in a workout? Simple, I already did that earlier today. Hour of cardio, full upper body circuit with leg press, leg curls and calf raises thrown in. People don’t seem to understand that when I say I am a damn good professional wrestler, I am not just blowing smoke.

Minoru stands up, looks towards the stage being set up and starts to head that way.

Minoru Tanahashi: I am in the gym five days a week, in a ring 4 times a week and regularly studying not just tape, but watching social media. Watching and listening to what my opponents and saying and doing. Maybe one will slip and reveal part of their plan, or maybe one will just do what Jansen Myrrh did and give me that extra motivation.

Minoru chuckles a bit, heads towards the security area and now to the two guards who recognize him and let him in. The fans notice and several ask for pictures or autographs, which he of course obliges, even signing a particularly busty woman’s chest. He smiles, gives them a wave as then continues towards the back.

Minoru Tanahashi: I watch both Trauma and Aftershock every single week, and it was about ten days ago when you provided plenty of motivation for me Ms. Myrrh. I listened to you talk about using Sex Express shirts as rags. Well I have some bad news on that, I sold all of them. They are all gone now.

He gives the no go hand signal as he walks over towards the ring, noting the lack of any kind of matting around them, figuring that the sand was relatively soft.

Minoru Tanahashi: She talked quite a bit about my win loss record, and you could say she made a fair point. I am four and three here in NFW. I think that gives me a winning percentage of like fifty seven or fifty eight. Though those numbers do not tell the full story. In one on one matches for instance, can you guess my win percentage? It is one hundred. Those three losses, two tag team matches and a fatal four way, and I wasn’t the one pinned in either of them. In fact in the fatal four way, it was Azurine that was pinned. The other part of this triple threat, that has been relatively quiet, at least in regards to me. Still...

Minoru sighs, shakes his head slightly, taps the canvas and then continues in towards that back.

Minoru Tanahashi: Cruel Summer is not a one on one, it is a triple threat and I am zero and one in multi man matches. However, I will not have to battle through a singles match prior to this triple threat, nor will I be the main target for either of my opponents. Jansen, Azurine, they do not like each other one bit, and that is a good thing for me. The last multi man match, I definitely felt like more of a target than I do in this. Even with as much trash as Ms Myrrh talked about me, the focus always seemed to be on Azurine.

Minoru goes back through the curtain and finds the makeshift dressing areas. He steps in, finds his back where we catch a glimpse of neon green trunks and a bright gold colored mask with a light beige sun hat attached to it before he grabs out a large blue beach towel and throws it over his shoulder. He heads back out of the dressing area and continues through the “hallways”

Minoru Tanahashi: That dislike they have for each other, it bodes well for me. I do not think there will be an issue of them working together to take me out. I don’t know if they could get along for even five seconds in order to execute a double team move on me. That said. I also do not expect to work with either of them to help take the other out. That’s not a concern for me though. I am okay sitting back a bit and letting them fight it out. Make no mistake about it though, I am here to win and increase that percentage. Tonight here at Cruel Summer, I am going to remind NFW and all the fans that I am damn good wrestler and show Azurine, Jansen, management, the other wrestlers and the World that nobody on that sand has bigger beach balls than me.

Minoru cracks a slight smile as he’s unable to stop himself from laughing after the joke despite trying very hard to look serious.

Minoru Tanahashi: Don’t let that little joke fool you into thinking I am not serious about this match ladies. Tonight, I am walking away with a win and carrying that momentum with me into the Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament, and I really need that momentum.

The serious look returns as he finds his way to the shower area with several small stalls set up. He places his towel on a nearby hook, puts his sunglasses on a small shelf, then goes to pull his shorts off when he looks back at the camera and stops.

Minoru Tanahashi: You should probably go ahead and start recording. I mean I don’t have any issues with the world bearing witness to the thickness, but the FCC probably would.

Another smirk and chuckle, then the camera nods before we fade to black.

Roger Arden: The following contest is a No Holds Barred match, scheduled for one fall! Introducing first!
"Hate Train" by Metallica begins to rip through the speakers inside the Collision Center, and the crowd rises to their feet, booing loudly as Tren Descarrilado and Katelin Arnett step out onto the stage. Tren takes a couple of steps forward before raising both arms to the ceiling, and six and a half foot jets of flames fire up on either side of the ramp before him as the music continues to play.


Tren makes his way down the ramp, yelling at various audience members on either side, flipping them off or insulting them as he makes his way up onto the apron while Katelin climbs the stairs. He puts his foot down on the bottom rope and pulls up the middle one, allowing his manager easy access into the ring. She makes her way to get a microphone as Tren stalks around the ring before stopping in the center, crossing himself before throwing double middle fingers up at the ceiling.


Tren stares out at the audience as Katelin comes to stand in front of him, bringing the microphone up to her lips.

Katelin Arnett: Since no one else can seem to get this right, I'll do it. Introducing my client. Standing six feet, three inches tall, and weighing in at two hundred and forty four pounds. He is the Train Wreck. He is the Man Who Feels No Pain. He is the HARDCORE ICON of NFW, and your Worst Fucking Nightmare. From Juarez, Chihuahua, Mexico, he is...

Tren moves to a corner, climbing up onto the middle turnbuckle before turning and sweeping the crowd, both middle fingers extended out towards them as they scream profanities and send back hand gestures of their own. Katelin's face is blank as she points to the monster in the corner.

Katelin Arnett: Tren Descarrilado!!

As Metallica's riffs begin to fade, Tren leans down, whispering into Katelin's ear before holding open the ropes for her again to allow her to exit the ring. He turns, and leans in his corner, waiting for the match to begin.

Roger Arden: And, his opponent….


The words come from the lips of a scared, angry man in the darkness, the sounds of life going on in the background as he monologues until the opening notes of Ra's "Fallen Angels" takes over. To a very mixed reaction, Damon Cross walks out onto the stage with hood of a sleeveless sweatshirt up and over his head. Dropping unleashes his mop of unruly black hair and shows his too-bright eyes staring out from beneath them.

Roger Arden: From The French Quarter! Weighing in at 213 pounds! He is The Black Ronin...DAMON...CROSS!!


Taking a deep breath and rubbing his face with taped hands, Damon shakes his head hard a few times and starts down the ramp. Leaping up to the apron, he wipes his soles on the edge before stepping in between the ropes. Tossing the hoodie side, Damon checks his own pads and rotates his wrists and neck a bit, trying to get himself loose for the match. He never takes his eyes off what's before him, locking in on the moment and putting his all into gearing up to the point that any further fan reaction is lost on him.


The bell rings, and Tren bullrushes across the ring, slamming into Damon and forcing him into the corner before throwing a brutal series of strikes straight into his opponents face, a wild, fierce elbow strike splitting the man’s forehead and drawing blood in the opening seconds. Descarrilado laughs wildly, eyes wide as he continues to rain down blows, but Cross manages to get his wits about him, dropping to the mat and rolling out of the ring to the sand below. Tren looks down at Cross before sprinting across the ring, hitting the ropes before leaping over the top, looking to hit Jumped the Tracks early, but he misses wildly as Damon jumps backwards. The larger man barrels into the barricade at ringside, forcing it back a good half of a foot, causing the fans in attendance to leap to their feet. Cross is on Descarrilado in a flash, driving heavy boots into the side of Tren’s head, but the Man Who Feels No Pain lives up to his moniker, lurching forward from a kneeling position to slam his shoulder into the gut of the Black Ronin. Damon slams backfirst into the barricade, letting out a cry as he rolls away from Descarrilado, who gets up to his feet. Blood flows from a cut over his eye from where Damon’s boots connected, and both men are already dotting the sand with their lifeblood.

Nick Hanson: It’s been a long time coming, this one, and these two are beating the hell out of each other!

Matt Salvatore: Hey, I like Tren’s new aggressive attitude but he took it a little far when he attacked the World Champion from behind.

Nick Hanson: Yeah, he kinda drew the ire of his opponent in this match and we see what happens when you anger the Saint of Bones!

Tren smirks, pulling Damon to his feet by the man's longer black hair before throwing him over the barricade in the corner and into the aisle before following him. But Cross isn’t done yet, and he grabs a handful of sand, throwing it up into Tren’s face, momentarily blinding the Train Wreck! Cross takes the opportunity to create some space, backing up the aisle. Behind him, a food truck sits in the sand, acting as a makeshift concession stand. Damon looks on as Tren finally gets his vision cleared, blood and sand making a makeshift mask on the wild eyed monster as he comes forward. Tren starts to run, but the sand makes for poor footing, and the Train Wreck stumbles, which allows the Black Ronin to use the bigger man’s momentum against him, launching him head first into the side of the truck! The workers inside scream as they clear out, the back and side doors of the vehicle wide open as both men go back to exchanging vicious blows. Tren throws Damon through the open side door, Cross losing his balance this time and landing hard on the narrow stairs. Thinking fast as Tren approaches, he grabs a pan of something off the burners, swinging wildly. Tren gets an arm up, the hot skillet making a momentary sizzling noise as it connects with Descarrilado’s forearm. Tren roars, not out of pain, but annoyance, as he grabs Cross by the wrist and brings it down, hard, on the stairs, forcing Damon to release his grip. The Train Wreck pulls Damon down the steps so that he’s kneeling, head on the last step before the big Mexican monster swings the door shut with all the force he can muster, but Cross pulls his head back just as the door slams shut with authority!
Matt Salvatore: Ho-ly SHIT! Tren might be trying to straight kill this guy!

Nick Hanson: I sincerely hope Danni Anderson is focusing on getting ready for her match and not watching this. This is just brutal for both ends!

Damon’s on his feet now, and he’s creating space, looking around for an equalizer as Tren begins to lumber toward him yet again. The referee follows, the look on his face one of absolute fear as Damon leaps forward, only to get terfed by a huge lariat from Descarrilado. Tren looks up and down the beach, a twisted grin crossing his face as he gets to his feet. He walks over to the water's edge, bending over to grab something before coming back with it in his hand. It’s the corpse of a jellyfish, and Descarrilado is holding it by the head as Cross gets up onto his knees. Tren brings the bioweapon down hard, tentacles first, across Damon’s back, a wet slap sounding out across the crowd as Cross screams in agony, arms jerking back as his muscles tense from the dead creature's natural toxins entering his flesh. Descarrilado laughs maniacally as he watches the welts already forming across Damon’s back, and kicks the man in the side of the head hard enough to roll him over. He puts his boot on Cross’ chest, signaling for the referee to count, but Damon isn’t done yet, kicking out at just one. Tren growls, reaching down to drag Damon to his feet, but as soon as he’s upright, Cross slips under Descarrilado’s arms, and wraps his own around the larger man’s neck in a modified sleeper as he leaps up, wrapping his legs around Tren’s waist. He may not feel pain, but Tren still needs to breathe to fight, and he starts thrashing about wildly, trying to shake the Black Ronin from his back. When that doesn’t work, he barrels forward, turning at the last second in an attempt to slam Cross into a lifeguard station's deck, but Damon releases the hold, opting to fall into the sand as Tren hits the wooden structure at full speed. Descarrilado falls, and Damon immediately climbs up onto the deck, signaling for it as he leaps for the Demon Spin corkscrew moonsault, but Tren rolls away, causing Damon to land face down in the sand.

Nick Hanson: DEMON SPIN FROM DAMON CRO--NOOO!!!! DESCARRILADO MAKES THE ESCAPE!

Matt Salvatore: I don’t know what hurts worse! Landing on the mat or landing on this damn beach!

Nick Hanson: You never wrestled on sand before?

Matt Salvatore: No, I did not.

Tren is up, and Damon is right behind him, the two men moving farther and farther down the beach, the referee working hard to keep up as these hated rivals throw caution to the wind, vicious punches and kicks connecting, blood flowing from cuts on both of their faces. Tren launches Damon into a wooden sunbathing chair, head first, before taking the accompanying umbrella from it’s holder, closing it, and bringing it down hard across Damon’s back, right over the jellyfish stings. Another cry of pain comes from the Black Ronin, but with each swing, he gets closer and closer to a vertical base before he’s on his feet, and moves out of the way of a wild overhand strike from Tren before countering with a brutal Yakuza Kick that seems to rock Descarrilado just long enough for Cross to hit it again! Tren falls to a knee, blood dripping from his covered face as Cross grabs the umbrella now, raising it to swing but suddenly Tren is on his feet and he wraps a hand around Damon’s throat, squeezing as he lifts the smaller man off his feet before sending him crashing down through the wooden chair with brutal chokeslam! Tren goes for another cover.


A nearby tourist stand catches Tren’s attention and he pulls Damon back to his feet, both men bleeding heavily, swaying a bit. Damon knows he’s hurt, but Tren doesn’t as the Train Wreck attempts to Irish Whip his opponent into the stand’s glass door, but Cross counters, sending Tren through instead in a shower of glass with the sound of metal being wrenched away as the lock snaps on the door, the Train Wreck tumbling inside with the Black Ronin hot on his heels. Descarrilado is getting to his feet before Damon looks down, reaches out with both hands and, with a loud grunt of exertion, swings a full diving tank into the side of Tren’s head. Tren hits the sand, and Damon goes for the cover now, but Descarrilado powers out at two with a roar of frustration. Damon goes for the tank again, but Tren, desperate not to lose his quarry, brings his arm up, nailing Cross with a low blow! The referee shouts at Tren, but the Train Wreck pays him no mind, dragging Damon back out into the sand. Cuts cover Tren’s face and arms now as he grabs a surfboard out of the ground, swinging downward but Cross has already moved, leaping up to deliver a hard tornado DDT headfirst into the same surfboard Descarrilado had been swinging just moments before!

Nick Hanson: OH!!! MAN!!!!

Matt Salvatore: Surfs up, motherfucker!!

Tren is down, groaning as he tries to will his body upright, but Damon has already seen what he has to do. He drives a couple of boots into the face of Tren, who stops moving long enough for Damon to drape a second surfboard over his opponents ribs before he climbs to the top of the small shop via the awning. He looks down at his opponent before crossing himself and leaping to deliver another corkscrew moonsault, this one executed flawlessly as he lands hard across the surfboard. The referee’s face contorts in horror at the sound of a dull snap, and Cross is clutching his midsection as he goes for the cover. Tren kicks out purely out of instinct, barely getting a shoulder up in time. The healthier man pulls his opponent up to his feet, sending a series of quick attacks into the face and chest of Descarrilado before looking down at his opponent. Tren bares his teeth, letting out a growl, and just before Damon can deliver the finishing blow he stops.

Damon Cross: No. I won’t do it. I won’t become you just to defeat you Descarrilado. I can’t throw away everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve just for one win.

He turns, walking over to the referee.

Damon Cross: That’s it. The match is over. I forfeit.

The referee watches, dumbfounded, as Cross turns his back on Tren, who collapses onto his hands and knees as Damon makes his way back toward the crowd surrounding the ring. The referee, confused, reaches down and raises Tren’s hand, signaling he is the victor.


Roger Arden: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner. TREN...DESCARRILADO!

Nick Hanson: Well, Tren comes out of this match victorious but is this bad blood between he and Damon Cross over?!

Matt Salvatore: The hell is Cross doing?! He should have finished his opponent off!

The camera shifts towards what serves as the backstage area for the event. In this particular area, a table is set up outside over a plastic tarp. Two men in safety goggles, face masks and gloves stand across from each other at a folding table with two deep, clear, plastic trays. In one of them, a thick, amber, viscous fluid is seen inside. In the other, one man dumps a box of empty glass bottles while the other proceeds to smash them up with a mallet. The camera pans over where Morgan Payne sits in a chair. Rather than her usual gear, she’s clad all in black: BDU pants bloused at the ankles over a pair of worn, Doc Marten steel toed boots. The black, scoop neck tanktop she wears appears tucked so well into her waistline it may very well be a leotard rather than just a shirt. Her pants are cinched at the waist with a black, leather belt. Kneeling before her, a young but surprisingly large girl, dressed similarly to her, is busy wrapping her fists with hemp rope. One hand is actually already wrapped; Morgan holds a cigarette in her hand, smoking and staring ahead of her, over the girl’s head as she works.

Girl: I dunnae understand it.

The girl says in a moderately heavy Irish accent, shaking her hand.

Morgan Payne: Whassat?

Girl: This whole deathmatch infatuation. You, me cousins, even me bloody sister seem ta live fer it! Can ye explain it?

Morgan Payne: Can’t be put inta words, Evie. Ya gotta experience it yourself.

The girl, Evie - Evelyn Foley - shakes her head.

Evelyn Foley: Yah, thanks but no thanks. I’d prefer not soakin’ the canvas in me own blood. That too tight?

Morgan Payne: Nah, you good. Thanks, Evie.

Morgan lifts the hand Evelyn just wrapped and clasps one of the girl’s tight.

Evelyn Foley: Look, just don’t die, arright? Beat his arse an’ teach the creepy bastard some manners.

Morgan Payne: If I die, I ain’t goin’ alone. Wanna kill this?

She offers her the cigarette she’s smoking but Evelyn makes a face and puts a hand up. When they both stand up, Evelyn towers over Morgan. The older yet shorter - much smaller - woman, shrugs, hits the cigarette again and drops it in a styrofoam cup of coffee by her feet. She walks past Evelyn and over to the table. In the background, Evelyn quickly picks up the cup, shaking her head and throws it in a trash bin right near the chair. Morgan waits for the two staff to finish crushing up the bottles. In the meantime, she starts shadow boxing to loosen up. As she does, the crowd pops as her father, retired wrestler, now commentator for NFW Trauma, Andrew Payne, walks into frame.

Andrew Payne: Hey kiddo.

Morgan Payne: Sup?

She answers simply, exhaling sharply with each punch thrown. She starts mixing in a couple of shadow elbows. Andrew watches her, arms folded over his chest. He takes a quick glance over at the teenager who was helping Morgan wrap her hands, who’s just about as big as he is.

Andrew Payne: Evie, how’s it goin’?

Evelyn Foley: Ah, Mr. Payne! Fine, thanks. How are ya sir?

Andrew Payne: Day by day. You keepin’ this one outta trouble?

Evelyn doesn’t say anything. She just throws up her hands as if to say Morgan won’t listen to her. Andrew gives a small smile and turns back to his daughter.

Andrew Payne: Look, Morg….

Morgan Payne: Don’t say it.

Andrew Payne: I’m gonna say it, alright? You even know what you’re about to get yourself into?

Morgan Payne: I seen it done before.

Andrew Payne: A lot different than actually being in one. Ya know your Uncle D was in the first in the company and it changed his ass forever.

Morgan Payne: He fed da motherfucker a mouthful of glass with his knee, I remember dat. I was 9.

Andrew Payne: Yeah, you remember what you said when I called you after that show?

He’s standing in front of her now, holding his hands up as targets for her to hit. Morgan fires away with different combinations. Each punch landing in her father’s palm with a dull smack. She even lands her elbows right in the center of his palms as well. He even appears to grimace a little as his palms are struck, giving credence to the force behind those elbows.

Morgan Payne: Remind me?

Andrew Payne: “Pop, if I become a wrestler, I ain’t ever gonna do those kindsa matches.” You remember that?

Morgan Payne: I remember saying I wasn’t gonna become a wrestler too. ‘Member dat?

Andrew Payne: Hah. Yeah, I do. Gimme some knees.

He folds his arms out in front of his waist. Morgan grabs up around his neck and starts driving her knees up into his forearms with sharp exhales. When she finishes, it’s back to striking his hands as targets; this time Andrew alternates, taking swipes at her to test her blocking and evading.

Andrew Payne: Good. Guess people change, huh?

Morgan Payne: Guess yer right.

Andrew Payne: Look, kiddo. This can be a good career. A damn good career. You keep in shape and you can keep going until you’re in your fifties. Shit. Sixties even. But you do this kinda shit on the regular, you’re gonna end up like me an’ your uncle. Your body hurts just gettin’ outta bed and you retire in your early forties. Living off a percentage of your booking rate and hoping people remember your name after all the shit you put yourself through. I don’t want that for you.

Morgan Payne: What do you want for me, Pop? Huh?

Andrew Payne: I want you to enjoy what you do, Morgan. That too much to ask?

Morgan Payne: And what if I am?

She stops her warmup and shrugs with her hands at her side. Andrew lowers his arms and tucks his thumbs into his belt.

Morgan Payne: What if I am, Pop?

Andrew Payne: ...Well, I guess just...keep doing what you’re doing then, kiddo. I’ll always support you, even if I hate seeing my only child do this crazy shit.

From the background, Evelyn yells out.

Evelyn Foley: We’re in agreement on the crazy part, Mr. Payne!

Morgan Payne: Ah, shaddap, Evie!

Evelyn Foley: I’m the angel on ya shoulder, Morg! Oi! Speakin’ of which! Here! Cass stopped by, ya weren’t ‘ere. Asked me ta give this to ya.

Morgan turns to Evelyn and the six foot girl hands her something wrapped in a large cloth. Morgan’s already grinning as she takes it and begins unwrapping it. She lifts her old bat, “Consuela”, wrapped in barbwire up in front of her. Both Evelyn and Andrew just watch her, unsure of how to even respond as Morgan smiles adoringly at the weapon.

Morgan Payne: There’s mah baby.

From over by the table, one of the staff members grabs Morgan’s attention.

Staff: Everything’s ready, Morgan.

Morgan walks back over to the table, joined by her father as she sets the baseball bat down. She carefully dips the backs of her wrapped hands into the tray of resin glue. Across from her, Andrew puts his hands on the table and leans on it.

Andrew Payne: Look, just promise me one thing?

Morgan Payne: Pop, ahnno you ain’t baht ta tell me ta be careful. Not for dis.

Andrew Payne: Fuck no! You go out there. You remember where you come from. Now, where you from?

A small grin crosses the girl’s features.

Morgan Payne: Fuckin’ Allegheny Cahntee.

Andrew Payne: Right. What’s your name?

Morgan Payne: ….Payne.

Andrew smiles just slightly and slaps her in the shoulder.

Andrew Payne: Kick his fucking ass.

Morgan says nothing. She just smiles through the nervousness she’s been trying to mask this entire time as she dips her glue soaked wraps into the tray of glass, rolling them back and forth to cover them as much as possible while the shot cuts away….
================================================================

Roger Arden: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is the Tai Pei Wicker Man Deathmatch! There will be no disqualification, no countout, no pinfall and no submission! The only way to win is to force your opponent into this wicker casket, close the lid and to set it aflame!

Roger Arden motions to ringside where the wicker woven casket is already waiting by ringside. The camera pans around the woven prison.

Roger Arden: And now, introducing the competitors!
The arena lights dim and fog fills the entrance area and a spotlight lands on the entrance. The hauntingly eerie intro to “Richard Ramirez” by SKYND fills the arena.


Nick Hanson: This match has been in the making for months. Eric Lee’s stalking and mental torment of Morgan Payne has pushed her over the edge. She demanded a match with him to finally put an end to all of it.

Matt Salvatore: But Eric Lee made her wait until tonight before she can get her hands on him and it’s come to this. One of the more grueling types of matches that New Frontier’s ever held. An NFW original, actually.

Nick Hanson: But not one we like to see too often.

Matt Salvatore: I’d normally say speak for yourself but I have to worry about Morgan Payne’s mindset if she’s willing to go into a match like this.

Nick Hanson: She’s angry, Matt.

Matt Salvatore: I got angry too Nick. It didn’t automatically mean I tried to end my own career.

Nick Hanson: No, you just tried to sand grind someone’s face off.

Matt Salvatore: I said I was sorry.

Nick Hanson: Apology accepted.

Eric Lee steps out from the back along with Charlie Grace. He glares out at the crowd as they boo him loudly as they walk to the ring.


He looks around as if listening to someone or something instructing him. He slides into the ring and crawls to the center. Charlie quickly climbs the steps and enters the ring. She respectfully stands to the side, letting the full attention of the crowd and cameras be on her client.

Roger Arden: First, from Los Angeles, California! Being accompanied by Charlie Grace, weighing in at 180 pounds. He is the UltraViolent God...ERIC...LEE!!


He gets on his knees and looks straight ahead with eerie calm. He then crawls over to his corner and sits there leaning back against the turnbuckles. Charlie then exits the ring and takes up her place on the outside, in Eric’s corner.

Roger Arden: And, his opponent….
The lights go out, shrouding the arena in darkness as those opening beat to "Heart Of A Champion" bumps through the speakers. As soon as the guitar riff starts, the video wall comes to life with the BEHOLD THE KINGDOM banner while the back wall screen comes to life with a combined static and barbwire design.


As the lyrics to the song start, the video wall switches to images of a woman in a hooded sweatshirt, sitting in a chair with a barbwire baseball bat being held vertically under one hand, in between her knees. Her hand spins the bat like a top as the camera cuts around to different angles of her in the black and white video. The final clip shows a closeup of her lifting her cold, merciless eyes to the camera before the Kingdom banner fills the screen again.


As “I'm crossing out names” is heard, a black silhouette walks out into view in front of the staticy barbwire image on the back wall. The silhouette turns towards the camera from the distance and steps out onto the stage, wielding the same bat seen in the video. The figure twirls the bat lazily once at their side before resting it over their shoulder. The lighting changes just enough to illuminate the figure, revealing none other than Morgan Payne! She stares down the ramp with coldness in her heterochromic eyes, briefly glancing around at the audience.

Roger Arden: From Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania! Weighing in at 130 pounds! MORGAN...PAYNE!!

Matt Salvatore: Ohhh shit, she’s got Consuela with her! We haven’t seen ol’girl in awhile!

Nick Hanson: Indeed, we have not. Probably a good time for her to come home, wouldn’t you say?

Matt Salvatore: I think Morgan Payne’s gonna need all the help she can get.

Nick Hanson: We’ll see just how much.


Morgan walks down to the ring intently but in no rush at all. The look on her face, cold and hard, never changes as she reaches ringside and ascends the steps before entering the ring over the middle rope. As soon as she’s in the ring, she brings the bat back up onto her shoulder and moves to a corner, climbing the turnbuckle and raises her bat overhead to the jeering audience.


Once she steps down, she sets her bat in the corner, throwing back her hood and removing her jacket, tossing it over the ropes to the timekeeper as she turns around, facing inside the ring and loosening up some.


Things are tense in the air already as the fans look on from their seats. Morgan Payne and Eric Lee come out of their corners and begin circling the mat. Eric Lee takes a traditional Muay Thai stance while Morgan Payne takes on more of a boxer’s stance; both competitors watching the others every move, but Eric Lee has a sadistic smirk across his face. Morgan Payne looks like she wants to straight up just rip into the man as she starts feigning steps inward, testing the waters but Lee doesn’t make any jumpy reactions. Even when the woman starts taking shadow punches at the air, not trying to hit him but to get some kind of reaction out of him, Lee doesn’t take the bait. It’s only when Morgan lunges in for the actual first blow, that Lee bats her hand down and steps in with a Sok Ti (Striking Elbow) right to the side of the head and knocks her into the ropes. The crowd buzzes low with anticipation, some shocked at the man’s quickness. Charlie Grace stands at ringside, back by the commentary tables like a statue. Hands folded behind her back with the slightest hint of a calm smile on her face.

Nick Hanson: Lee and Payne testing the waters. Both competitors have discipline in Muay Thai so it looks like they’re sticking to the roots here with the opening strikes.

Matt Salvatore: Roots my ass, Nick. You watch too many movies. They never used glass in Muay Thai. Makes for a good bloodbath, though.

Morgan’s off the ropes now and back in the game as she and Lee circle the mat again. This time, she takes more intended shots at Lee but he continues to just weave back and/or bat her punches away from him. Morgan finally cocks back for an angry haymaker and Lee explodes forward, grabbing her around the head and forcing her against the ropes into a Clinch where he starts feeding her knees to the ribs. The crowd gets louder as Lee just fires away with the knees until he’s evidently had enough and throws Morgan to the mat. She writhes on the mat, holding her midsection as Lee stands back and watches her for a moment before calmly walking up and reaches down, grabbing her by the hair. As he pulls her up, she’s visibly fighting to get air back in her lungs. One hand in her hair, the other reaching almost affectionately under her jaw, Lee starts to pull her up to her feet with that cold eyed, wicked grin on his face. Just as he gets her up to one knee and one boot on the mat, Morgan bursts up, spins around and BLASTS Lee across the face with a hard right hand that sends him stumbling across the mat. He catches himself on the ropes and, after a moment, turns back to her. The first punch she’s landed has quite visibly opened up a cut across his cheek with blood oozing down the side of his face. Lee touches the wound and looks at his fingers, almost as if confirming. This just seems to satisfy him more as he licks his own blood off of his fingers and brings his guard up again, stepping back in to meet Morgan.

Nick Hanson: And Morgan Payne draws first blood in this match!

Matt Salvatore: Eric Lee looks like he’s enjoying the shit out of it!

Nick Hanson: He likes to take as he gives, Matt. We know that much!

Matt Salvatore: All of the best do, Nick.

Morgan starts looking a little more confident in this match, seeing as how she’s drawn first blood and she bounces on the balls of her feet some. When Lee gets close enough, she starts throwing more shots at him. Lee brings up his guard, absorbing the punches with his arms. Morgan’s punches open up visible cuts on his arms but Lee keeps from taking too much damage. Morgan steps back and starts throwing in the kicks but Lee absorbs them with the Buok maneuver, lifting his leg up to eat Morgan’s kicks with his shins. Boots and kick pads make this even easier, of course. After a barrage of kicks, Lee suddenly catches one of Morgan’s kicks under his arm and stiffs her right in the face with a right jab. He drops her leg and follows up with a two piece - two quick punches that send her into the ropes. Morgan rebounds off of them and right into Lee who catches her with an Exploder Suplex. Morgan takes a nasty looking landing, grabbing at the back of her neck instinctively. She’s also visibly bleeding from three cuts on the face thanks to those punches. She starts to get up onto all fours then on her feet but just as she does, there’s Lee, grabbing hold of her and hoisting her back with a German Suplex that drops her dangerously close to the edge of the ring where the wicker casket is. She even rolls onto her stomach, putting her closer to danger so Lee motions for one of the referees to open it up and starts trying to push Morgan inside. She grabs the bottom rope to keep from being forced in. Lee leans over the bottom rope while trying to push her into the casket. Morgan sees an opportunity and grabs Lee around the back of his neck with her arm, holding him in place. The crowd starts to go wild as Morgan just starts punching away at the top of Lee’s head with her other hand. Shot after shot after shot until Lee digs his fingers into her eyes after grasping wildly and forces her to let go. The Richard Ramirez of Professional Wrestling, as he’s called, grabs at his head and falls back onto the mat with blood oozing from his scalp, through his fingers. This gives Morgan a moment to lay there on the apron and catch a breath before trying to find her footing.

Matt Salvatore: Holy shit! There you go, kiddo!

Nick Hanson: Morgan Payne unloading with those shots to the head of Eric Lee and that’s gonna open him up for sure!

Matt Salvatore: Look at the blood already pouring! Haha!

Nick Hanson: You’re loving this already, aren’t you?

Matt Salvatore: I am!

Morgan grips the rope and uses it to lever herself up, she hopped up and used the ropes to springboard herself. Morgan tucked her fists under her legs and dropped her full weight right onto Lee’s chest. Lee growled out in pain as Morgan set him up for some mounted punches, instead of covering up Lee shows his strength by arching his back and forcing Morgan to have to readjust her position and when she does Lee drives both of his glass covered fists right into her soft exposed stomach as hard as he can. The sudden blow to the midsection sends Payne tumbling off of him, groaning weakly as she rolled away. The camera zooms in on Payne, revealing that her stomach is a mess of blood and cuts, while Lee gets up and wipes the blood from his eyes with a vicious smirk. He starts laying boots to Morgan, making sure to target her mamed underbelly leaving Payne with little choice but to ball up to defend herself. Lee winds up a couple of stiff kicks trying to push Morgan over and into the casket, but Morgan flattens out and rolls sideways instead. Lee grunts and goes out the opposite side of the ring to fetch not one but several chairs. He winds a still struggling Payne’s limbs into the chairs, then proceeds to play musical goddamn chairs with stomps, knee drops and leg drops on Morgan’s vulnerable arms and legs. Lee takes a moment to laugh and taunt Payne, who seems to be trapped and goes for another round of smashing her into the folding chairs. Except The Daughter of the Rain and Snow had been playing possum! When Lee goes to drop a leg on one of the chairs, her glass covered fist catches him right under the chin! Lee goes flailing backward in a gout of blood and the referee has to run over to check the severity of the damage! After a tense minute, Lee expresses that he’ll take the Ref out for trying to stop the match and the Ref decides the shallow cuts lining Lee’s jaw aren’t severe enough to risk his own life over.

Nick Hanson: Matt, it looks like the referee might have been thinking about stopping this match.

Matt Salvatore: He can’t stop the damn match! He can walk out like a bitch and let someone else take over if he can’t handle it.

Nick Hanson: So professional.

Matt Salvatore: Hey, it’s all part of the business. Get Greer out here if necessary.

Nick Hanson: Well I think Eric Lee has uhh...convinced the official otherwise.

Eric Lee finally shoves the referee out of his way and snatches up one of the chairs he brought in. Morgan, meanwhile, has crawled over to the ropes and is pulling herself up when Lee uses it like a battering ram and drives it into her back. Morgan slumps against the ropes, grimacing in pain. Lee rears the chair back again and takes a second ram into her side this time. Morgan almost drops but stays standing, so Lee finally takes a full on chair shot, whacking her right across the back. Payne thrashes violently against the ropes and Lee tosses the chair aside, grabs her in a Full Nelson lock and delivers a Dragon Suplex, driving her right back onto another chair! Morgan lies there on the mat before Lee drags her up to her feet. He whips her into the ropes, pivoting as she comes back and misses a discus elbow strike as Morgan slips under his arm. She hits the ropes and hooks her arms over the top, stopping her from hitting another rebound. Lee, however, has already hit the ropes across the ring and is coming at her full speed ahead but Morgan drops to the mat, pulling the top rope down with her; Eric Lee goes violently tumbling over and out onto the ground with a nasty landing in the sand outside the ring. Charlie Grace remains by the commentary table, not moving an inch as her client hits the sand in front of them. Lee lays sprawled in the sand and Morgan lays on her side on the mat, immediately grabbing the ropes to get back up. At the same time, the UltraViolent God on the outside is also pulling himself to his feet. By the time he gets to a vertical position, Morgan’s up and waiting. She hits the ropes and comes sprinting back across the ring. Only then, does Charlie Grace dive out of the way as Payne hits a Suicide Dive, launching through the ropes and crashes into Lee. Both competitors go slamming into the commentary table with Lee getting slammed spine first directly into the table. Morgan’s momentum sends her rolling over him, across the table and right into commentator Nick Hanson. Matt Salvatore’s already out of the way because as a retired competitor, he saw this shit coming.

Nick Hanson: AND HERE COMES PAYNE! WATCH OU---

Matt Salvatore: HOLY SHIT!! Folks, it looks like I’m running things solo here! Nick just got leveled! Nick? Nick! C’mon bud, get up.

No response from Nick Hanson as he’s barely moving with Morgan sprawled out on top of him.

Matt Salvatore: Morgan Payne, looking to do some damage to her opponent and damn did she ever. We got both competitors laid out in bloody messes around us. My partner’s been taken out. Nick, c’mon, man get up! Might need the ring doctor over here.

The camera cuts between two shots briefly showing Eric Lee sitting back against the table, grimacing from the pain shooting through his spine and Morgan Payne laying in a heap of chairs and monitors between the table and the safety barricade. Eric Lee fights his way up to his feet first, showing his higher resiliency for grittier contests as Morgan Payne is just barely starting to get up onto all fours. Lee looks like death embodied with blood pouring down his face and dripping down onto his heavily scarred chest. He leans against the table as he glances over at his manager then turns his attention to commentator Matt Salvatore. The Tormented Soul actually starts to laugh at the retired wrestler, clearly enjoying all of this. He walks around the table and grabs Morgan by the hair, yanking her head back and presses the back of his fist to her forehead with the glass digging into her flesh. Morgan audibly cries out as Lee rakes the glass across her head like a cheese grater. He does it again, this time pressing and raking his fist against one of her cheeks. Fans react with disgust and shock as Lee slowly licks the blood oozing down the side of Morgan’s face. Even Payne begins to tremble and thrash to try and get away from the man but he’s got a vice grip on her hair. He holds her by the jaw, whispering something out of range of the mic - we probably don’t want to know what. Lee starts to walk Morgan around the table and around the ring but they barely get away from the table before the woman collapses onto one knee. Lee goes to pull her back up to both feet but when he does, Morgan suddenly grabs him and hoists the 180 pounder up across her shoulders, belly up. She gets a pop from the crowd though she doesn’t waste time and delivers DAHNTAHN AFTER DAHK!! Eric Lee is driven down head and neck first, crashing through the commentary table. Lee lies there motionless and Morgan pauses once she’s on her forearms and knees, trying to will herself up further.

Matt Salvatore: AND PAYNE DRIVES LEE BACK DOWN THROUGH THE TABLE!! HIS ASS MAY BE OUT!! SHE CAN GET HIM IN THE CASKET AND END THIS NOW!

Now it’s Morgan who crawls over to the barricade and pulls herself up and picks Lee up with her. She rolls the nearly unconscious man into the ring and drags herself in behind him. Morgan makes the painstakingly long effort of rolling Lee across the ring to the wicker casket. The referee opens the lid and Morgan actually gets Lee INTO the casket but when she leans through the ropes to try and close the lid herself, Lee suddenly springs to life again and grabs her by the shirt. Lee pulls Morgan halfway into the casket with him. We don’t see exactly what happens but Morgan’s legs start kicking and thrashing as she can be heard screaming inside the casket. Finally, she pulls herself free, holding a hand to her ear. Eric Lee sits up out of the casket with a twisted grin on his bloodied face. He spits...something...something so small that we only get a glimpse of it because of how close the camera is to him. Wait...did he really...no way. Lee crawls his way out of the casket and leans back against the ringpost for support, shaking with silent laughter all the while. He briefly turns to Morgan, shaking a finger at her as she keeps a hand pressed to her ear. It’s one of those ‘just you wait, I got something else for you’ gestures. The fans look on in fearful anticipation as Lee then digs under the ring apron. What he starts pulling out gets mixed reactions from the fans. Not your ordinary assortment of hardcore weaponry, no. Lee pulls out the real nasty shit. Barbwire kendo sticks, fluorescent light tubes - a bunch of single tubes and a light tube raft. He pulls out a trash bin with more stuff inside, including more light tubes and a barbwire wrapped chair which he dumps out before tossing them inside the ring. There’s also an ice pick and a plastic container of bamboo kebab skewers - this which he holds up to the crowd, wide eyed with bloodlust as he gets a mix of cheers and boos before tossing those in and slides back into the ring after Morgan.

Matt Salvatore: Goddamn, I think Eric Lee just took a piece out of Morgan Payne’s ear! Now he’s digging out of the toy chest for some goodies! Whoa hey, you okay Nick?

Nick Hanson: Ungh...I...I think so?

Matt Salvatore: C’mon, get up and sit down bud. You’re missing shit! Eric Lee just bit a piece of Morgan Payne’s ear off!

Nick Hanson: He WHAT?! Actually...that doesn’t surprise me….

Morgan continues rolling around, waiting until Lee gets closer to reveal that she had gripped one of the light tubes he threw into the ring as she smashed him over the chest and head with it! That catches Eric enough off guard for Morgan to be able to spring to her feet and drop Lee with a tiger suplex! The move winds Morgan, who shakes the blood and cobwebs out of her head, not going for the pin because it would be meaningless here. It keeps Lee down though, gives Payne time to breathe and collect herself. Morgan goes back to her roots as a submissionst and wraps Lee up in an armbar, so she can wrench the hell out of his arm with relatively light work on herself. After drawing out the armbar to a torturous degree, Lee simply stuck swinging his other arm in pain. Morgan uses that arm to leverage Lee over to her, flipping herself over him still holding his arm. She wraps her arms around his neck to apply a front facelock, with his arm still chickenwinged and then rolls him over with his head tucked under her arm, closing her legs around him in a crushing body scissors! In a new submission move that Morgan called Jaguar’s Bite! Morgan’s wrapped around Lee like a spider monkey! But even if he wanted too, Lee can’t submit! All he can do is kick and drag his legs, trying to get even just his knees beneath him to ease the pressure. Morgan twists, shaking Lee’s upper body like a rabid dog with a piece of meat, leaving Eric yowling in pain! The camera catches the toe of Lee’s boot flail out and hit something, the stub of the broken light tube that Payne had used on him! He desperately kicks it over closer to where he can claw a hand out from under himself. Morgan’s entirely unaware of his reaching, to focused on wrenching on Eric’s already damaged neck and shoulders, suddenly Payne screams blood murder! The camera zooms away from her face to show Eric scrapping the light tube’s sharp busted in across her back, and down her spine! Morgan instantly lets go of Lee and kicks him away, using her legs to create distance between them. She rolls and leaves red smears across the canvas, her back and belly now both in ribbons! Blood entirely coating the top half of her ring tights! Lee himself can’t do much more than make his own distance from Payne, laying on the canvas, trying to slap some life back into his arm and shoulder! That vicious hold definitely did it’s damage to him, but of course he’d managed to draw more blood from Morgan in the end.

Nick Hanson: Raking that glass up the back of Morgan Payne, just tearing into the flesh! Can you imagine the agony?!

Matt Salvatore: These two are putting each other through hell, Nick!

Eric Lee is far from finished, however as he starts to get feeling back into his arm, rolling his shoulder as he gets back to his feet. Here, Lee picks up the plastic container of kebab skewers and pops the lid off, pulling out a handful as he stalks towards Morgan. Once Lee stands over his proverbial prey, he holds the skewers in between his teeth as he pulls Morgan back onto her butt as she is crawling towards the ropes. One by one then, to the horror of those in the crowd who probably aren't used to this level of violence in wrestling, Lee pulls the skewers from his teeth and proceeds to bury the pointed ends deep into the top of Morgan’s scalp. He brings them down in a hard stabbing motion where he then holds a skewer until it is embedded and able to stand on its own in her scalp. Morgan ends up being in so much overall pain that all she can do is thrash and flail, screaming as Lee adds more skewers, one after the other. This goes on until Morgan has a disturbing amount of skewers protruding from her scalp. About ten to fifteen give or take before Lee has the final one in his hand. He holds it in front of Morgan’s face, wanting her to see it before he brings it up and comes down hard with it but Morgan’s hands shoot up, catching Lee by his wrist with the skewer stopping just inches, maybe even centimeters from her actual face. Lee and Morgan struggle with whether or not the skewer is gonna end up in her eye or not until Morgan visibly switches something with her grip and Lee tenses up, beginning to growl in pain and opens his hand, dropping the skewer. A switch of the camera showed that Morgan was applying one of her pressure points on his wrist. With Lee distracted by the pain, she brings his hand to her mouth and by god, she clamps right down on the fatty part under the thumb.

Matt Salvatore: Oh, she’s biting! She’s biting him!

Nick Hanson: Sinking her teeth in, in an act of desperation perhaps!

Matt Salvatore: She might be just matching his level of intensity!

Nick Hanson: Level of insanity is more like it!

Lee seems unable to get his hand free from Morgan’s teeth, finally having to resort to grabbing the cluster of skewers embedded into her scalp, ripping them out and bringing them down in a wild, stabbing motion on top of her head until she releases him. Only then does he drop the skewers and fall to his knees to look at his hand. A closeup shows his leather glove torn with blood oozing from underneath. The damage becomes more clear as Lee actually takes the time to pull his glove off as Morgan lays in front of him, face down on the mat in a puddle of blood that’s probably mostly her own. She pulls herself up to her feet with the help of the ropes, seemingly unaware that Lee is arming himself with a light tube and gearing up for another attack. She turns just as he comes charging at her and whether it was out of desperation or intuition, Morgan drops to the mat with a Drop Toe Hold, sending Lee crashing into the ropes and getting hung up on the middle rope. Payne then pulls out a trick she hasn’t done literally since last year, slingshotting herself over onto the apron and immediately hitting a basement dropkick to the side of the head of Eric Lee! Lee falls off the ropes and down to the mat, leaning head and shoulders off of the apron with droplets of his blood dripping into the sand beneath him. Morgan, meanwhile, has fallen off the apron and into the sand where she lets it be known just how goddamn much sand in open wounds hurts. The woman writhes in agony but still manages to get to her feet. It’s here that she sees the dropped light tube in the sand where Lee lost it during his trip. Morgan picks it up, does the ol’ Negan, ‘Lucille Give Me Strength’ pose before just hauling off and bringing it down like an executioner's axe RIGHT OVER THE BACK OF THE HEAD OF ERIC LEE! The light tube POPS as it explodes from the impact and Morgan is left with a jagged end in her hand. She wastes no time in grabbing Lee by the hair and pulling his head up to get right in his face. She can be heard fiendishly asking him ‘You Get Off On Pain Jagoff?! Do ya?!’ Next, she digs that jagged end of the broken tube right into the side of Eric Lee’s head, digging it deep into the appropriate nerve, delivering TRIGEMINAL BLISS! Again, it’s not been often that we’ve heard Eric Lee roar out in pain but he’s damn sure doing so here as he grasps and claws at Morgan to try and get her away from him. Morgan only does so when it seems she’s ready and even then, she smashes what’s left of the light tube over the back of his head before stumbling away from the UltraViolent God and spreading her arms to the crowd. To call Morgan a bloody mess would be the most terrible of understatements right now. Either of them. They both look like they’ve essentially bathed in the stuff. Just when everyone’s wondering what Morgan’s gonna do next, she turns around to look at Eric Lee from over by the security barricade.

Nick Hanson: Morgan Payne measuring up. What’s she doing?

Matt Salvatore: She’s planning something, Nick! Watch out, HERE SHE COMES!!!

Indeed, here comes Morgan, running right at Eric, still hanging over the apron and delivering a brutal rolling cannonball senton kick, driving her heel right into the side of the man’s face. The sheer impact alone causes Eric Lee’s body to turn on the mat and fall down into the sand at ringside. We get an audible “OHHHHHHH” from the audience before both competitors are left laying there. Eric finally gets to his knees then his feet and stumbles over, dragging the bundle of light tubes toward Morgan with him. When he tries to get Morgan up, she gives him a stiff punch, which he returns, the pair trade blows back and forth each out of it, exhausted and rocking with the blows before Lee switches tactics and knees the Daughter of the Rain and Snow in the gut. It takes everything in Morgan Payne not to hit the ground after that, clutching her shredded stomach in pain. Lee takes a couple of breaths and pulls Morgan onto him into his arms with effort and he hefts her up, he spins on his feet with the light tube bundle laying there! Whispers In The Dark! He hits Whispers in the Dark right into the light tubes! Morgan lays in a pool of her own blood all over the mat as Lee lays there panting. Unfortunately slamming Morgan into the bundle also coated the backs of Eric’s knees and thighs with glass, so he gets up gingerly trucks covered in rips and blood now. He pulls Morgan to her feet, and falters as he gets her up to limp his way over to the side of the ring with the casket. With a monumental effort, Lee dumps Payne over the ropes, pulling back just enough to give her a little air time launch so she twists and tumbles right down into the coffin! Morgan lands so hard the lid flops shut on top of her from just the impact. Eric smirks, half his work already done! He gets the lighter fluid and limps back over, grabbing around for one of the lighters. He finally gets a hold of one after having to roll back into the ring to grab it out of a pile of bloodied weapons. Fans start to panic a little as he starts pressing the button on the grill lighter, trying to get a flame going. He clicks and clicks and clicks, producing no flame. Eric Lee throws it aside in frustration and grabs another, trying that one, also to no avail. He throws that lighter out of the ring, actually looking to get a little angry before grabbing up the last lighter they have. He sparks that one over and over until the lighter comes to life with the flame. Lee holds it up to the crowd to see.

Nick Hanson: Oh my god, this is it! This match is over!

Matt Salvatore: He lights that casket and things are gonna get pretty fucking hot for the Daughter of Rain and Snow!

Finally, Lee turns and starts making his way over to the fuel soaked wicker casket containing Morgan Payne. Just as he gets close enough to finally end this whole thing, however, the lid to the casket opens up and Morgan sits up out of it, she whips her arm and flings a tiny handful of sand right into the eyes of Pro Wrestling’s Richard Ramirez!! Lee staggers back and drops the lighter, grabbing at his eyes as Morgan rolls back into the ring from inside the casket. She hastily pulls herself up to her feet on the ropes, waiting for Lee to turn back towards her and when he does, she takes off right at him and just--

Nick Hanson: FAUGH A BALLAGH! FAUGH A BALLAGH ON ERIC LEE!!!!!

Matt Salvatore: DIG DEEP AND GO ALL THE WAY!!! THAT’S HOW YOU DO IT, KIDDO!!!!

Nick Hanson: MORGAN PAYNE HAS FLOORED THE ULTRAVIOLENT GOD!!!!

Lee goes down violently, as does Morgan but she scrambles to the ropes to pull herself up again with a second rush of adrenaline pumping through her blood. She holds herself up, waiting for Lee to get back up to his feet again and charges once more, leaping right into him with her knee smashing the man right in the face.

Matt Salvatore: Look out, here she comes again, Nick!

Nick Hanson: KHAO LOI STRAIGHT TO THE FACE!!!! HE!!! IS!!!! DOWN!!!!

Matt Salvatore: GET HIM IN THE CASKET!!! WHAT’S SHE DOING?!

Eric Lee lays sprawled on the blood stained mat with Morgan sitting right beside him, clutching her midsection in absolute agony. It’s safe to say she probably has tears mixing with the blood on her face as she looks, in desperation, to her fallen opponent. Her attention moves to the casket and back to Lee. Morgan thinks for a second then looks towards the mess of weapons on the mat. Whatever Morgan’s thinking, she starts putting it into action as she grabs a chair and slips it underneath Eric’s head. She grabs a second chair and uses it to push herself up before coming to stand over Eric Lee. Morgan raises the chair up over her head, ready to strike when something else catches her attention and she hesitates. She pauses, considering her options for just another moment before finally laying the chair in her hands over on top of Eric Lee’s head and face. As quickly as she can, Morgan stumbles over to her entrance corner and goes for it.

Matt Salvatore: Morgan Payne has Eric Lee right where she wants him. She needs to capitalize! What’s she doing?!

Nick Hanson: I don’t think she feels she’s done enough, Matt! She-- Ohhhhhhh my god. No!

Matt Salvatore: I thought Consuela was just coming to watch!

Morgan lifts “Consuela”, her old barbwire baseball bat and brings it up in front of her again. She stumbles back over to Eric Lee and stands over him, taking a moment to look over at Charlie Grace. Eric Lee’s manager just stands there, stoic as ever, understanding the level of carnage in this match. For a brief moment, it almost seems as if the blonde woman in the crisp suit is impressed with the lengths her client’s opponent is willing to go. Finally, Morgan lifts the bat up and brings it down with one mighty swing, SMASHING it against the chair covering Eric Lee’s head!! Eric’s body thrashes once from the shot and briefly goes into small convulsions as Morgan drops the bat from her hands and collapses onto her knees beside him. The audience is screaming for her to hurry up and finish it!! With what little strength Morgan has left in her body, she begins pushing Eric Lee, rolling him over to the casket. She gets him in and closes the lid. When she sits back on her knees and butt, the crowd gets vocal again, crying for her not to waste anymore time. Morgan looks around at the defective grill lighters until she seems to remember something. Morgan digs into the pocket of her BDU pants and shakily pulls out her favorite little zippo. She fumbles a bit to get the cover lifted and has to really flick the wheel to get the flame to spark and stay. Once it does, however, she tosses the zippo itself onto the wicker casket and the fuel soaked contraption is almost immediately consumed in bright, orange flames.


Roger Arden: Here is your winner!!! MORGAN...PAYNE!!!!

Nick Hanson: She’s been stalked. She’s been tormented mentally. She’s been battered and broken. Mangled and bloodied. She’s lost a literal piece of herself! But Morgan Payne has earned her justice here tonight

Matt Salvatore: Second generation superstar who’s received so much doubt from her peers and predecessors but she walked into hell and came out alive. I won’t say smiling. Clearly she’s not, but she’s leaving here with the win. Andy! I hope you’re watching brother!

Hollywood Undead’s “Heart of a Champion” continues to play throughout the PA system as Morgan just sits there, a bloodied mess, in complete disbelief. The glow of the raging flames illuminates her, at least currently, grotesque features. Still, through the mask of blood, there’s a sense of relief in her eyes, even as referees come to hit the casket with the fire extinguishers and medical staff come hauling ass down to the ring. Morgan just closes her eyes, lifts her head and collapses over onto her side and onto her back. Medical staff surround both her and Eric Lee after pulling him out of the charred, smokey remnants of the casket before, perhaps mercifully, the shot cuts away from ringside.

Lluvia and Moe had left The Kingdom’s dressing tent, heading to where the ‘entrance ramp’ had been set up for the matches. Moe was a little farther ahead of Lluvia which of course meant the Cherokee-Latina woman was paying attention to certain aspects instead of her immediate surroundings. This led to the Cherokee Rose to bump into someone though they caught her before she fell on her ass in the sand. When she looked to see who she had collided with, she was happily surprised to see that her best friend, Alexa Marcus, had made the show after all.

Lluvia Cane: Alexa!! I thought you weren’t going to make the show!

Alexa Marcus: Well I talked to Kiera, and she agreed that my place was here with the rest of The Kingdom, tonight. She knows everyone has some major matches that could cause so many changes, so I booked a nonstop flight and landed late last night. Besides...do you really think I’d miss you and Moe taking down Second City Riot Squad and bringing the tag titles back where they should be? Nothing on this earth could keep me from being ringside to cheer y’all on.

Lluvia glanced the way she had been walking with Moe before the literal run-in with Alexa and saw the Chinese woman waiting for her a little ways ahead, a smile on her face when she realized who Lluv was talking to. The Cherokee-Latina woman looked up at Alexa’s face, well only slightly since Alexa had half a foot over Lluv in height, and beamed at the woman.

Lluvia Cane: Well remind me to thank Kiera for being on the same wavelength. Steph is already in the ringside area reserved for the two of you and the kids. If you have to, steal a seat from the time keeper’s area...Lord knows they always seem to have plenty of extras for whatever reason. I’ll admit, I felt pretty bummed when I saw that there was a chance you were going to miss the show; it just wouldn’t have been the same without you at ringside too. And why didn’t you let us know you were here?! You wouldn’t have had to be alone after you landed!

Alexa Marcus: Lluv, you know I love y’all, but I don’t always have to or want to be surrounded by everyone. You know that’s never been my thing. I mean, yeah, I live in the Castle and whatnot with y’all, but there are times where I just want some peace and quiet or to just be with one or two people. But that doesn’t mean I will ever stop supporting and being there for The Kingdom and for you, shortie.

Lluvia rolled her eyes a bit at the jab about her height though there was a smile on her face in the process. The Cherokee Rose was about to say something though the sound of Moe’s voice stopped her.

Moe Renhaun: Come on, Lluv! We’ve got to get to the gorilla position!

Alexa Marcus: She’s coming, Moe! Lluv, kick some ass out there. Take Leah and Layla off of their high horses and win your first championship. I’m going to go join Steph and the Little Royals.

Lluvia nodded, determination taking over her facial features as she turned away from her best friend. The dark haired woman began a light jog to catch up to Moe, but she paused and turned back towards Alexa, who called after the woman that was about to continue her journey to the gorilla position.

Alexa Marcus: Oh yeah! Lluv, don’t get any sand up in your cracks because I love ya, but I don’t love you enough to help you deal with that!

Lluvia shook her head and waved her friend off, a playful grin sliding across her features for a few moments. The Cherokee Rose watched her friend for a moment before she quietly spoke, knowing that the taller woman wouldn’t hear her.

Lluvia Cane: Thanks Alexa…

The women nodded towards each other, and Lluvia finished catching up to Moe. The Queen’s Guard walked in silence, a calm before the storm sort of feeling taking them over. It was their night, and nothing was going to make them feel any different.
The show cuts to earlier in the day back at the hotel housing NFW talent prior to Cruel Summer going on the air. The Second City Riot Squad are seen strolling through the hallway towards the lobby as we see the trio in mid conversation.

Layla Diaz: When yous finally gonna stand up, yo? Yous jus finna let Jansen walk all ova me an not do shit? I gets it. Yous two got a history der. Yous sistahs from anotha mistah; an I guess anotha moms too if yous really tink bout it. Still, she butted her head up in our business. She hit me wit a fricken chair. I say fuck dis Kwonspiracy bullshit. Yous brought me in as SCRS and SCRS is what I be til da day I day.

Leah Aguero had finally had enough. She sticks out her arm in front of Layla Diaz, stopping her in her tracks. Jed Coffey, who was tailing behind them carrying the NFW Tag Team Titles, is forced to stop abruptly as well.

Leah Aguero: Enough already, Diaz. No, I don’t condone what Jansen did to you. Nor do I condone the way she’s mouthing off at you on Twitter either. She crossed a line. It’s just more complicated than that. Sure, we’re damn near like sisters and sisters fight. Still, when I decided I was going to venture off on my own, away from my husband and sister, in efforts to make a name for myself, Jansen was there. She saw the potential in me just the same as I saw the potential in you. She cultivated raw talent and together she and I made serious moves in MHW as Coven. That’s why I came to NFW. That’s why you even got a shot. It was because of her connection.

Layla Diaz: Oh get off dat shit, Leah. All she did was get our foot in da door. Afta dat, it was all us. It was all SCRS. Da rest a Kwonspiracy did der ting. We did ours. Who still round deez parts? Who left? Who let dis shit crumble? When all is said an done, we da ones her wit deez straps. We da ones makin names fa ourselves.

Leah Aguero: You’re right. I’m not dismissing any of that. What we’ve actually done in NFW has been on our own merit. We’ve done what needs to get done regardless of the means because that’s what we do. It’s not about giving Jansen credit for those belts. It’s about giving credit to who opened the door.

Layla Diaz: Well, irregardless, yous finna need ta make a decision on da mattah real soon. We gots a tag defense tanight and, afta dat, I’m solo in da Vlad Blackheart Memorial Tournament fa da nex month. One a dem opponents be Jansen. At some point, it finna be eider her o me. It’s finna be up ta yous ta decide dat cuz yous knows mah stance.

Noticing the surroundings in the hotel lobby, Jed Coffey interjects himself into the conversation.

Jed Coffey: Ladies, I do believe it is best to have this conversation not within a public place but better yet in private. You never know what unwanted company might be lingering around.

Jed Coffey points in front of the duo in efforts to get their attention. Josh Davidson is standing in front of them watching the back and forth lay out. Doe eyed, he didn’t want to interrupt.

Layla Diaz: Dafuq yous want?

Leah Aguero: At ease, Diaz. What’s up, Davidson?

Josh Davidson: If this isn’t a good time I can always come back later.

Leah Aguero: This? Naw, this discussion is dead. Shoot.

Layla Diaz just rolls her eyes in the background as Leah Aguero dismissing everything they have been going back and forth about.

Josh Davidson: I actually thought I might get a comment from the two of you regarding tonight’s match against the Queen’s Guard. The two of you are normally more vocal online; especially when it comes to members of the Kingdom. Outside of a few peeps, we haven’t heard much from the Second City Riot Squad.

Leah Aguero: Well, Davidson, the truth of the matter is that the SCRS doesn’t have to go on social media constantly in order to hype just how great we truly are. I know others in NFW will still continue to dismiss us. You’ve got Lluvia Caine talking about how she’s going to take the Tag Team Titles from us while in the same breath acknowledging that Queen’s guard is merely challenging for other promotions tag titles. It’s that air of confidence that’s truly going to lead to their downfall. Never, and I mean never, discount what the Second City Riot Squad is capable.

Layla Diaz: Yous damn right, yo. Dat Vulva bish.

Leah Aguero: It’s Lluvia. You act like you don’t know Spanish. It means rain, Diaz.

Layla Diaz: Dats what I said. She too busy showin off dat new gym of hers, fillin it all wit crap she ain’t even finna use. Ain’t like us, yo. Da SCRS gym be gritty jus like us. Bands. Kettlebells. A squat rack. A makeshift ring. Fuck all da rest. Da way we do tings, we like em rough, gritty, feel da burn.

Josh Davidson: Do you feel like that gives you the advantage tonight?

Layla Diaz: Uh, yeahs. But not jus cuz we be hammerin it out in da gym. We da muthafuckin SCRS. Ain’t no ones comin up in her taking deez straps from us any time soon.

Leah Aguero: From the moment we stepped foot into NFW, everyone talked about how they were the premiere tag team around these parts. They would, in turn, boast about the other tag teams in NFW and how great they were. For us? They’ve been dismissing us since the get. I get it. We’ll always be considered the outsiders. But just like all teams that have boasted before going toe to toe with the Second City Riot Squad, they too shall fall. Bloody Fairytale? They thought they were going to bring it hard in the paint and yet every encounter ended with them on the losing side of the equation. We’ve already beaten the Queen’s Guard. We did it as a straight forward tag team match. We did it again as the final match of a tag team gauntlet match; AFTER we already beat two other teams. We took out Onslaught. You haven’t heard a peep out of The Skillz Vendorz since we “broke” one of their hands. They also tried to swerve us by not even addressing what members of House Crowley we’d be defending these belts up against. Well, guess what? Last I checked, we’re still champions. And last I checked, the Second City Riot Squad, as a tag team, is still undefeated around these parts. Sure, everyone’s going to come up with excuses to save face. They’re going to say we used underhanded tactics, we didn’t “play by the rules”, we didn’t put on some nine star classic tag team match that’s going to be talked about for generations to come. That’s not our style. We get the job done. We produce results. We aren’t afraid to do what needs to be done.

Layla Diaz: Dats right, yo. SCRS is dat shit. Still, yous all finna jus sit back an be like, [sans accent] “OMG, you guys sound like a broken record. You are big. You are bad. You are bringing it from the Southside. Knees and Cutters. It’s going to be knees and cutters.” Yous damn right it finna be straight knees an cuttahs. Da proof is in da puddin’, bishes. Da SCRS is finna bring it all da way from da southside all da way ta Laguna Beach. An at da end a da day, SCRS finna still be da champs an dey ain’t nuttin’ da Queen’s Guard can do bout it. Dey can start tinkin’ bout maybe going fa da Trios Titles when dey decide ta crowd dem. Den again, we already got a trio standin’ right her. Mighty J will leave all yous asses straight… what was dat again Mighty J.

Jed Coffey: It’ll be Straight Schmuck’s Up, Schmucks Down. Now, if you don’t mind us my main Boosh Josh Davidson, the ladies need to get ready to storm the Kingdom and take down the Queen’s Guards… once again.

Jed Coffey pulls down his standard aviator sunglasses to give Josh Davidson a wink before the Second City Riot Squad pivot away from him and head outside away from the hotel.

Roger Arden: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and it is for the NFW Silver Mountain Championship! Introducing first….



As the vocals of Queens Of The Stone Age burst through the crackling arena speakers, the crowd stand to their feet in anticipation! A thin wisp of smoke swirls and mingles with the vibrant silver-blue spotlight beaming down at the entryway. The shot slowly descends, gradually revealing a self-assured Cass Baumer with a small lighter in the path of the hairspray valve at an upward angle. The Kiwi's confident smile glints against the glow of her oscillating aerosol flamethrower. The boisterous audience pours down appreciation at the gaudy display. Once she's finished with the theatrics, The Headliner defiantly struts down the aisle in a dark silver-blue leather vest, weapons still in hand. As she nears the center of the clearing, she spins and steps backward, unashamedly showing off the glossy "Silver Mountain Climber" emblem at the back of her distressed jacket.

Roger Arden: From Karori, Wellington, New Zealand! Weighing in at 141 pounds! She is the challenger...THE HEADLINER...CASS...BAUMER!!!


"Smooth Sailing" continues while Baumer's lips form a triumphant smirk, her head turned to the side 'til she leisurely twirls back with her arms extended when she nears the apron. She stops at the steel steps to set down the hairspray, then slides into the ring. The palpable cheers grow in intensity as she bounces back to her feet and mounts the ropes, raising the ignited lighter with pride as she answers the visceral reaction of the crowd with a guttural shout of her own!

Roger Arden: And her opponent….
The synthesized intro of "Big Bad Wolf" begins matched shortly by the drums and the lights of the arena fade to darkness. A eerie purple glow begins to appear on the stage as the guitar strums kick in the words "Even in these chains you can't stop me" repeated four times with a loud drum strike after each one. After the fourth the guitars and drums kick in full force and the words "The Fanged Rose" appears on the screen with the well known red eyes of the Matthews "Reptile" behind it.


As Maria shrieks the follow up The Fanged Rose comes through the curtain. The black coat buckled around her throat with the hood up shadowing her face. She steps to where the stage and the ramp meet she drops into a kneel with a hand on the ramp.

Roger Arden: From Chico, California, weighing in at 140 pounds! She is the Queen of the Kingdom AND the NFW Silver Mountain Champion! The Fanged Rose...JASMINE...MATTHEWS!


Each line she bobs lightly until the final word and Jasmine shoots up straight throwing the hood back from her face and letting out a bestial shriek before she sprints to the ring and sides under the ropes. She pops back up and marches to the turnbuckle where she climbs to the top, throws one leg over to balance herself and lifts a single fist into the air.

Once both women are in the ring, the referee takes the Silver Mountain Championship from Jasmine Matthews and holds it for her to look at. He then walks over to Cass Baumer and shows it to her, showing her what’s at stake in this match. Cass nods with a tiny smile, even reaching out tentatively to touch the center plate. She jumps a bit when Jasmine Matthews yells, from across the ring “Don’t touch my fucking belt, bitch!” Cass retracts her hand, scowling across the ring at Jasmine Matthews as the referee then holds the belt up in the air for the crowd to see. He then hands it off to the timekeeper, checks that both competitors are ready and calls for the bell.


People would have been correct in expecting this one to have no love lost between these two. Jasmine Matthews and Cass Baumer came right out of the gate, slinging verbal trash back and forth. Cass pointed to Jasmine, then towards the back, then to herself and motioned all around at the audience. Whatever she was saying must have pissed Jasmine off because the defending champion leaned in and started jawjacking back at her, jabbing a finger in her chest. Cass didn’t seem to take kindly to that and shoved Jasmine back. The Queen of The Kingdom answered back with flat out spitting back in Cass’ face, garnering a boo from the crowd. As Cass wiped the phlegm off her cheek, Jasmine nodded, opening her arms out and continued to goad her on. Finally, the champ herself called for a lock up, getting into position. Cass huffed angrily and circled the mat with her opponent. The two stepped in for the collar and elbow and Jasmine feigned with it, instead kicking Cass in the midsection and immediately firing away with a storm of hard shots from her fists and forearms. Jasmine continued just throwing shots over and over, backing Cass into the ropes where she whipped her across the ring and sent her over and onto the mat with the Kitchen Sink. Cass flipped and hit the mat, Jasmine gave a quick “Behold” motion before hitting the ropes and came back for a Big Boot but Cass threw herself back flat on the mat and the champion stumbled past her. Cass hastily got to her feet and caught Jasmine with an armdrag that sent her across the mat and sliding out onto the sandy ground outside the ring. She stared up in the ring at Cass, a mix of impressed and surprised as Cass got to her feet, beckoning for Jasmine to come back in the ring. Jasmine nodded, jawjacking some more and motioned with a hand for Cass to come to her since she was such a “little deathmatch badass.”

Nick Hanson: Jasmine Matthews telling Cass to come on out there and get some! She criticizes Baumer for specializing in deathmatches; says she can outwrestle her any day of the week!

Matt Salvatore: She can outwrestle her, Nick! Jasmine’s the goddamn Queen of the Kingdom for a reason! She’s one of the best wrestlers in the world! I applaud Cass for handling herself in deathmatches, given my own career, but you gotta know how to do more than just that in this business!

Cass Baumer did go to get out of the ring but Jasmine rushed in, grabbing her by the hair to the referee’s chiding and yanked her down off the apron. Cass hit the ground hard and immediately went to get up but Jasmine grabbed her by the hair and shoved her face into the sand, dragging her head back and forth. Cass got her head up after a few seconds, spitting sand and trying to wipe her eyes out but Jasmine wasn’t letting up and pulled her to her feet, only to send her back into the ring and sliding in after her. She meant for this to be a straight up wrestling match and by god, she was going to see it as just that. Cass was up on her hands and knees, feeling for the ropes when Jasmine was on her like a cat, driving her knees over and over into Cass’ ribs. She definitely wasn’t letting up on her aggression as she went full on savage with the knee strikes. Jasmine kept on going until Cass was left visibly winded, gasping desperately for air as Jasmine rolled her over onto her back and hooked the leg for the first cover of the match!


But Cass got her shoulder up with conviction and authority, leaving Jasmine less than happy as she lifted her up by the hair with the referee warning her about the maneuver. Jasmine ignored the ref, whipping Cass into the corner and followed in with a brutal dropkick, driving the Headliner into the turnbuckles. Cass took the blow and fell back to the mat only for Jasmine to pull her up again where she started delivering hard, knife edged chops to the challenger’s chest. Each chop made an audible smack even with her hand connecting with the fabric of Cass’ gear. Cass was left slumped with her arms on the top ropes and Jasmine whipped her into the opposite corner as hard and violently as she could. The champion positioned herself for a charge and came running in, possibly looking for a corner splash but Cass got one foot up, nailing her right in the face. Jasmine stumbled back, turning away and Cass moved as fast as she could, climbing to the middle turnbuckle and came off with a diving bulldog, driving Jasmine’s head into the mat. Jasmine rolled onto her back, holding her face and Cass rolled up onto her knees, clutching her ribs with one arm while the other hand balled into a fist that she shook with a look of pained determination on her face.

Nick Hanson: There we go! Cass Baumer’s starting to get some offense going here!

Matt Salvatore: Well, it’s about time! I really don’t like calling one sided ass whuppings!

The Headliner got up to her feet just a moment before Jasmine did and acted quick, stomping on the Fanged Rose’s fingers while she still had a hand on the mat. Jasmine snatched her hand up, cursing Baumer and looking to the referee. Nothing said it was an illegal maneuver, though, so the official couldn’t do much of anything. This seemed to anger Jasmine even more and she tried to charge Cass again but the challenger caught her right up into a Firemen’s Carry and dropped her down for a gutbuster. Jasmine went right to holding her ribs as Cass quickly grabbed her around the head and delivered a crazy Jumping DDT, driving her head down into the mat. Jasmine rolled onto her back as Cass got back up, saw her chance and hit the ropes, coming back for a jumping elbow drop, right down onto the chest of the Queen of the Kingdom. She wasted no time then in hooking the leg for the pinfall.


Jasmine Matthews was far from finished, however, and got the shoulder up. Cass shook her head, getting back up and bringing Jasmine with her but Jasmine exploded up, batting Cass’ hands away from her and fed her a hard forearm. Cass ate it, falling back two steps and came back with one of her own. Jasmine stumbled back and came back with another of those Knife Edged Chops. Cass staggered back, putting a hand over her chest before coming back with another forearm to Jasmine. The Fanged Rose wasn’t about to get into a strike off with a hardcore practitioner so when she took that forearm, she stumbled back, making it look as if it had her rocked but she bounced off the ropes and came back with a handstand headscissors and threw Cass into the ropes. Jasmine hit the ropes across the ring and came running back for a Thesz Press Guillotine BUT as she jumped, Cass simply let herself fall back and over, causing Jasmine to get hung up on the middle rope, slamming her head into the top rope which was enough to ricochet her back and onto the mat. Both women scrambled to get up which saw Jasmine make it over to the corner to pull herself up while Cass did so on the opposite side. It was Cass who ran along the side of the ring however and stiffed Jasmine with a forearm and put all of her body weight into it; enough to send Jasmine crumpling down in the corner. Cass hit the ropes again and came dashing back for a Running Facewash and hit it right on the money!

Matt Salvatore: Goddamn! I may have spoken too soon on Baumer! I’m starting to become impressed with her in this match!

Nick Hanson: You do realize she’s had wrestling training, don’t you? She doesn’t just wrestle in deathmatches.

Matt Salvatore: You do realize she’s wrestling a fucking Matthews, don’t you?

Nick Hanson: Yes, you keep reminding me.

Jasmine pushed herself back up into a sitting position against the corner. Meanwhile, Cass looked like she had an idea brewing in that head of hers and she crossed the ring to the opposite corner. She came darting back across, full speed ahead and while it was expected she was gonna go for maybe a hesitating dropkick, Cass just dropped down and baseball slid into a dropkick right between Jasmine’s legs! Whoever said a shot there didn’t hurt women was full of shit because Jasmine’s eyes looked like they were about to bug out of her skull. The referee jumped in place and looked stuck on what he should do. He settled on getting in between Cass and Jasmine, backing Cass away from the champion and scolded her for the attack. It was clear, with a title on the line, nobody wanted to see the match end so soon but it was clear that the ref was warning Cass not to do it again, letting it slide this time in exchange for Jasmine’s pulling of the hair earlier. He then backed Cass up to a corner and went to check on Jasmine who just shoved him away in pain and anger. She started pulling herself up to her feet in the corner again but Cass wasn’t going to wait, the Headliner charging across the ring, possibly looking for Bleeding Edge but Jasmine exploded out of the corner with a guttural scream and a SPEAR TO CASS BAUMER!!!

Nick Hanson: BLEEDING ED--NO!!! SPEAR FROM MATTHEWS BREAKS BAUMER IN HALF!!!

Matt Salvatore: Hey, I gotta give little girl kudos on that Spear! That shit was beautiful!

Nick Hanson: You’d think so, I’m sure.

Matt Salvatore: Well, Nick, I’m something of an expert on the maneuver. I did use it for, oh I don’t know, TWENTY GODDAMN YEARS?!

Nick Hanson: That’s nice, Matt.

Matt Salvatore: You want one?

Nick Hanson: No, thank you.

Matt Salvatore: Well, shut the fuck up, then.

Jasmine sat up on her knees, throwing her hair back and shrieking like a blood drunk banshee. Fire and hate in her eyes as she grabbed Cass by the hair and got to her feet, pulling the Headliner up to her knees and began just slapping her in the face. “You can’t outwrestle me! You can’t. Fucking. Out. Wrestle me!” Jasmine screamed in Cass’ face, slapping her over and over between each pause. Ignoring the ref’s warning again, Jasmine pulled Cass up by the hair and set her up for a Vertical Suplex. It was more than that, however, as she lifted Cass up and bounced her legs off the ropes for a Slingshot Suplex, slamming her back onto the mat. Jasmine rolled back to sit Cass up before letting go. She kept rolling back up to her own feet, hit the ropes and ran back in for a brutal bicycle knee right to the face of the challenger. To say Cass was knocked back violently was an understatement. It looked like Jasmine almost took her head off before sitting over her chest and reached back to lift one leg up, sneering defiantly at the booing audience. She counted with the referee, making sure her middle finger went up first.


Jasmine dropped Cass’ leg and ran her fingers through her hair, seething with rage before looking down at The Headliner with murder in her eyes. One hand went behind Cass’ head and Jasmine just started firing away with a modified Ground & Pound barrage of elbows. When the referee finally pulled her off for concern of Cass’ well being, blood was seen running from her nose.

Nick Hanson: Aw, now Cass is busted open! I think you’ve made your point, Jasmine!

Matt Salvatore: Sure, if her point is she don’t take shit and can go just as hard as any extreme wrestler. Open her ass up some more, champ! It ain’t a Silver Mountain match without some juice!

Nick Hanson: Will you stop?

Jasmine pulled Cass up to her knees, issuing more demeaning little slaps to the face. More insulting than trying to do damage. The blood trickled down the side of Cass’ mouth and her eyes looked about half glazed over as Jasmine continued taunting her. Jasmine was in the middle of this, however, when Cass showed defiance and spit right in the Queen of the Kingdom’s face. The crowd stirred with anticipation as Jasmine stumbled back in shock, wiping her face with a look of murder in her eyes aimed at the challenger. The rage in the Fanged Rose boiled over and she came running in for an attack on Cass. She stepped up, delivering BLOODLI--NO! Cass ducked, sending Jasmine’s foot right over her head, causing Jasmine to eat the mat and the Headliner quickly capitalized, pouncing on her and twisting her up into TANGLED WEB!!

Matt Salvatore: Ah shit! Get out of that, champ! C’mon!

Nick Hanson: CASS BAUMER HAS THE TANGLED WEB LOCKED IN TIGHT!!! SHE COULD SUBMIT THE CHAMPION RIGHT HERE!!!

Matt Salvatore: You got two legs, Jasmine! Use one to get to push yourself to the ropes!

Nick Hanson: Cass just needs to hold on a little longer!

Matt Salvatore: I’m gonna fucking hit you.

The champion was thrashing, pulling and struggling to get to the ropes but Cass wasn’t letting it happen so easy. The challenger had the grapevine leglock submission locked on tight and braced against the mat, doing her best to keep Jasmine from reaching the ropes. It became a tug of war so to speak; Jasmine dragging herself towards the ropes and Cass dragging her away, towards the center of the ring. Cass arched her hips up, adding more pressure on that leg and Jasmine looked like she was about to tap out before a final drive pushed her through the pain and she managed to drag herself all the way to the bottom rope and grab onto it. The ref counted to 4 before a distraught Cass Baumer let Jasmine Matthews out of the hold, covering her face in frustration; she felt like she was going to end it right there but it turned out not quite. Cass got to her feet again and looked to be positioning herself for another big one. She shifted one foot back, tapping it on the mat, seeming to amp herself up. Clearly looking for Bleeding Edge. Once Jasmine was in position, rising up off of her knees, Cass dashed across the ring but Jasmine managed to slip past her and both women hit the ropes at the same time. As they rushed back at each other, it was Jasmine turning the tables around again with KNEEL PEASANT!!!!!! Cass was driven back into the mat hard and Jasmine threw herself over her, hooking the leg for the pinfall!


The Headliner got the shoulder up just at the last second!! Jasmine Matthews shot up onto her knees in a blind rage, raking her fingers through her hair with a guttural shriek as Cass Baumer rolled over onto her side, then her stomach, trying to get back to her feet. Eyes like a serpent ready to strike locked in on Cass as Jasmine stood back up and backed away, putting the distance between them and waited for the right moment. Cass pushed herself up to her feet and, standing on her last leg, she seemed to feel that something was wrong. This was the end of the road for her. She closed her eyes, grimacing through the pain and took a deep breath knowing what awaited her from behind. She slowly turned, on wobbly feet and Jasmine came charging in!! ICE COL---NOOOOO! CASS BAUMER HITS A SUDDEN BASEMENT DROPKICK TO JASMINE’S GROUNDED LEG WHEN HER FOOT COMES UP FOR THE KICK!! Jasmine hit the mat, grabbing at her knee with a quite audible “FUCK!” It was her now, down on one knee as Cass scrambled to her feet and hit the ropes, coming back at half velocity but full force with BLEEDING EDGE!!!! Jasmine hit the mat, grabbing at her face in a daze. Now they were both bleeding as that Penalty Kick from Cass opened up the Queen’s forehead right at the hairline. Rather than immediately capitalize, Cass could only lay there from pain and exhaustion and the referee began that dreaded double ten count.

Nick Hanson: Challenger and champion are down! This match is gonna end by ref stoppage if one of them doesn’t get to their feet!


Matt Salvatore: Stay down, Cass!

Nick Hanson: Oh for Pete’s sake.

Matt Salvatore: Who the fuck is Pete?


Nick Hanson: They’re starting to stir! They’re almost up!

Matt Salvatore: Come on champ!


Cass made it to her feet first, pulling herself up on the ropes and used them to lean on, holding herself up. She finally pushed herself away from the ropes, raising her fists up to the crowd, trying to feed off their energy to keep going. She called for the finish, knowing she had to land one more big move on Jasmine before she could win. She turned around, looking to finally bring the match to an en---ICE COLD FROM JASMINE MATTHEWS!!!! Barely getting the speed behind her run, Jasmine landed her bicycle superkick right in Cass’ face, hitting her so hard and so close to the ropes, the Headliner went tumbling out into the sand again as Jasmine collapsed to the mat again. The crowd was going wild, splitting between telling Cass to get up and back in the ring or for Jasmine to finish it. The referee started his count up to 20 then just as Cass barely began to stir.

Nick Hanson: Cass needs to get up to her feet and in the ring now!

Matt Salvatore: She got kicked in the face so fucking hard she flew through the ropes, Nick! I doubt she can even see straight right now!!


Nick Hanson: C’mon! Jasmine doesn’t wanna retain like this, does she?

Matt Salvatore: She might! I won’t say I condone it but a win’s a win!


Jasmine Matthews sat up in the ring, bleeding profusely from the forehead and pushed herself up to her feet. The Queen of the Kingdom looked down at her opponent, laughing then as she turned to give her “Behold” taunt to the crowd.

Nick Hanson: Jasmine Matthews is gonna take this countout win and she’s proud of it. Goddamn it!

Matt Salvatore: You can’t knock her for her smart thinking, Nick! After all, smart thinking won her this title!

Nick Hanson: She didn’t even wrestle a goddamn match!

Matt Salvatore: Ehh, technicalities.


Outside the ring, Cass Baumer made it up onto all fours and grabbed onto the apron, pulling herself up to her feet on wobbly legs. Jasmine turned to see her up on her feet and her eyes widened with a mix of rage and disbelief.

Nick Hanson: She’s up! She’s up! She just has to get in the ring!

Matt Salvatore: Look out champ! Be ready! She’s a resilient little shit! But I kinda admire that….


Cass Baumer just barely made it halfway into the ring when Jasmine Matthews actually walked over and pulled her in the rest of the way. Cass made it up to her knees, catching Jasmine with a wild forearm to get her back before trying to get up to her feet. Further annoyed by the Headliner’s resiliency, the Fanged Rose moved in to lock on THE CONSTRICTOR!!! She didn’t quite get it on yet as Cass struggled, knowing what she was going for but she was well on her way there, despite Cass throwing elbows into her ribs! Jasmine fought through this and by god she got the arm around the front of Cass’ neck!! Jasmine wrenched back, starting to work on choking the life out of Cass while she was still on her feet. She just needed to get her down on her ass so she could start the painful, dreaded portion of swinging her back and forth across the mat. Cass looked like her knees were about to buckle and give out, finally, when suddenly she arched up, finding a new wind inside of her as an arm went up behind Jasmine’s neck. The crowd jumped off their feet as Cass thrust her hips up, pushing her feet off the mat, flipped herself backwards over Jasmine!! FACT CHECK!!!!!!! WITH CONVICTION!!!!!! Jasmine’s head hit the mat hard and Cass slipped out of her grip as the Fanged Rose went limp. The bloodied, sand covered challenger recoiled up onto her knees then literally just collapsed on top of the Queen of the Kingdom, barely even able to hook the leg as the ref counted.


Roger Arden: Here is your winner and NEEEEEEEWWWW NFW Silver Mountain Champion!!! THE HEADLINER...CASS....BAUMER!!!!!!

Nick Hanson: SHE DID IT!!!! BY GOD, SHE DID IT!!!!

Matt Salvatore: I DON’T BELIEVE IT!!!

Nick Hanson: CASS BAUMER, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IS YOUR NEW SILVER MOUNTAIN CHAMPION!! AND SHE DID IT ALL WITH HER HEART IN AN UPHILL BATTLE!!

Matt Salvatore: You know what? I don’t like it, I’m not gonna lie, but I’ll give the kid points for heart and grit. Somehow, she pulled this shit off. I doubt she can hold onto that belt as long as the Queen did, though!

Nick Hanson: Time will tell, Matt! Time will tell!

“Smooth Sailing” continued to play over the speakers as the referee presented Cass Baumer with the Silver Mountain title belt. Sand and blood covered her face but there was a smile there as the referee raised one of her arms and she raised the title in the other.