Victory #1 | Sunday, September 18, 2016

The scene opens to show the inside of the Hammerstein Ballroom of The Manhattan Center. The cameras scan round, showcasing the excited crowd that has gathered for the first Victory event. The shot comes to a stop on commentators, Mark Dean and Darren Nash.

MARK DEAN: “The energy in here tonight is crazy! Welcome to the first Victory event from EOW, and man, do we have show for you tonight!”

DARREN NASH: “That we do. Tonight we find out who’ll be going forward into the EOW Ultimate Championship Series!”

The two men gesture towards the big screen above the stage entrance where there is a shot of the currently empty league table.




DARREN NASH: “There you have it! After each of the four qualifiers tonight, we’ll be able to fill one spot on that table.”

MARK DEAN: “Those four will then battle it out over the next three shows to gain the most points, and solidify their place in the Ultimate Championship Match at EPIC.”

DARREN NASH: “That’s not all we’ve got for you though.”

MARK DEAN: “That’s right, bro. The four who don’t qualify will have a second chance to prove themselves by heading into tonight’s main event, the Redemption Challenge – an elimination match where the winner will walk out of here as the first ever Internet Champion!”

The two pause for a second while they listen to their ear pieces, before looking to each other and then back to the cameras.

MARK DEAN: “First though, it looks like we’ve got an unwanted visitor in the building.”




The cameras arrive backstage, filming – and subsequently streaming on the large, projector screen above the staging at ringside – the arrival of Livewire General Manager, Ernie Parker.

The old, bald suave staff member saunters down the corridor, looking mischievous as he goes. He’s whistling a jaunty tune of some kind.

MARK DEAN: “Watch out, guys – it’s the enemy.”

DARREN NASH: “Damn, I guess the old dude wasn’t fooling around when he said he was showing up here tonight.”

MARK DEAN: “Look at him, swaggering around backstage like he owns the place. Valentina wouldn’t do that on Livewire.”

DARREN NASH: “Obviously not, bro. Lemay is A-list material. Livewire is beneath her.”

Parker studies his surroundings, examining the nameplates stuck to the various doors along the corridor he strolls down. Within seconds, he’s stopped by backstage correspondent, Hope Gordon.

HOPE GORDON: “Mr. Parker, sir! Can I grab you for a few words?”

Ernie’s eyes narrow and his lips curl. He’s enamoured by the sight before him.

ERNIE PARKER: “You can grab me anywhere you like, my darling.”

Gordon looks a little uncomfortable by the comment, so brushes over it swiftly.

HOPE GORDON: “You’ve made it clear all week that you’d be here tonight on Victory, but the question remains: why exactly are you here?”

ERNIE PARKER: “Good question! Let me show you.”

The Livewire General Manager begins to fumble around in the pocket of his suit pants, giving the young reporter some cause for concern. Her fears are alleviated, however, when he retrieves a folded document and waves it towards her.

ERNIE PARKER: “When I come to Manhattan on a day off, I love nothing more than some good old fashioned shopping. So…”

Parker unfolds the sheets of paper and flashes the front page at Hope.

ERNIE PARKER: “This is a Livewire contract and it has a Victory fighter’s name on it. By the end of the night, I’ll have made quite a purchase!”

MARK DEAN: “Dude, what the?”

Gordon looks shocked. Parker grins.

ERNIE PARKER: “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go and find my latest acquisition. Until next time, little lady.”

The old staff member fires a wink towards Hope, before sauntering off down the corridor and out of the frame. His whistling continues.

MARK DEAN: “Is he serious right now?!”

DARREN NASH: “He sounded like he was, for sure.”

MARK DEAN: “If someone on our roster has decided to jump ship, I’ll freak out, man! That’s a total scumbag move.”

DARREN NASH: “I wonder who the hell he’s talking about?”




Backstage, Felix Hartley and Finn Whelan are spotted from a distance and appear to be having a heated conversation. Felix stands, leaned up against the sound equipment, one leg resting on it, her arms crossed, listening to Finn talk. As the camera’s focus in, the two of them can be heard discussing strategy for their upcoming lethal lottery matches.

FELIX HARTLEY: ”I get it. You know I’ve done this before, right? Like, a lot of times?”

FINN WHELAN: Yeah, but you’re in a totally different company, and we’ve got totally different pricks to deal with. I mean, what happens when Kaine goes psycho and starts roid raging? We need a plan.

FELIX HARTLEY: ”Who cares, Finn? Seriously. You’re overthinking it. Do you honestly believe I had a ‘game plan’ going into any of my other matches? Nope.”

Felix’s attention was fixed downwards to her iPhone. Finn huffed, peering over only to find that Felix was browsing Instagram mere moments before the first lethal lottery match of the evening was scheduled to start. He looked up at her face with probably the most irritated eyebrow raise in the history of mankind.

FINN WHELAN: ”Are you seriously “white girl-ing your fucking life right now? You have people like Jack Owyns and Matthew Pa--”

At the mention of Matthew Page’s name, a side-smile arises on Felix’s face and she lifts a hand to twirl one of her brightly colored red strands of hair.

FINN WHELAN: ”I can’t even with you right now. Can’t even.”

FELIX HARTLEY: ”I can’t even with you right now,”

Felix’s mocking tone made Finn clench his fists in utter anger, he thought that if he didn’t walk away right now he might start the first round of qualifying matches right here. He knew Felix felt a sense of satisfaction from playing around with his temper.

FELIX HARTLEY: ”Seriously Finn, we’re better than this. Stop trying to be the guy with the passion of a thousand burning moons or whatever.”

FINN WHELAN: ”Suns. The expression is a thousand burning suns.”

Felix rolled her eyes, suddenly caught off guard by a hilarious cat video somebody shared to her Facebook wall. The echoing sound of several meows burst from the speaker of her phone, and quite literally, Finn’s face slacked entirely. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Felix was probably right. He was likely working himself into a maddening sort of frustration that he really didn’t need. But at the same time, it was like he was the only one that wanted to succeed.

Felix, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care at all. She lifted her iPhone and shoved it into Finn’s face.

FELIX HARTLEY: ”Is that not actually the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen? Just raising its arms up and meowing. I need this cat.”

Finn stared at the video, and his eyes just slid to look at her face once more. Silence.

FELIX HARTLEY: ”Stop being a whiny worrier, Finn. It’s not like we have much to worry about. Look at the rest of the competition.”

FINN WHELAN: ”Okay, how about this one: what if it draws both of us in the same match?”

Felix stared at him with an expression of “duh” on her face.

FELIX HARTLEY: ”You lay down and let me pin you. Duh.”

FINN WHELAN: ”Yeaaaaaah, that’s not happening. Good try, though.

He patiently waited for her response, thinking that maybe talking about the possibility that the two of them could end up facing each other would light some sort of fire under her ass. He got complete silence in response. She giggled, scrolling through her feed, until her face scrunched up and she looked like she could vomit.

FELIX HARTLEY: Ew, did you see Mysti Savage’s new selfie? You would think with some sort of modelling background that she’d be at least a decent shooter.”

FINN WHELAN: ”Felix, I swear to God. If you don’t get your head in the game right now, you’re fucked. I’m done sugar coating it for you. You’re straight fucked against some of these guys.”

Felix’s expression was blank, slowly raising her iPhone to her ear as she stared Finn directly in the eyes.

FELIX HARTLEY: Hello, Shakespeare? One of your actors got away, I think I have him here in New York. Come get him any time.”

FINN WHELAN: ”Okay, you know what?”

Finn covered his face with the palm of his hand, shaking his head but trying his best to let his frustrations go. He had a very important match to think about, and so did she. He was done trying to help her get into the game.

FINN WHELAN: ”I don’t have time for this, and I don’t have time for your shit. Tonight, you can watch your own back, because I don’t have the time or the energy to do it for you.”

Felix scoffs, momentarily looking up at Finn just in time to see him walk away. She mutters something under her breath that was too quiet for the cameras to catch as the scene fades.





Still backstage, the cameras focus on one of the members of tonight’s Championship Series qualifying matches, “Marvelous” Matthew Page, making sure his kneepads were both on securely as he could hear the sound of heels clicking in his direction. With an arched brow, he turned his attention to Hope Gordon, our backstage correspondent.

MARVELOUS MATTHEW PAGE: “I suppose you want a few final words before I bless the EOW faithful with my presence, and awe them with the most spectacular wrestling performance they’ve ever seen, right?”

HOPE GORDON: “In so many words, yes. You’re about to make your Epic Online Wrestling debut in front of a jam packed Manhattan Center. What are your thoughts heading into your match tonight?”

MARVELOUS MATTHEW PAGE: “As the white DJ Khaled of EOW, I feel as though I’ve got the key to all success. No one they could put out there against me tonight will be able to match me inside of that ring, so why should I feel as though I’m not the unequivocal number one guy in this entire series? Why should I not feel as though I’m the ’96 Chicago Bulls, steam rolling through the entire NBA to be the only 70-win team to win it all?”

HOPE GORDON: “I don’t know. Why?”

MARVELOUS MATTHEW PAGE: “Because I’m the reason they’re all fighting for second place. Because whether people like it or not, I’m going to the first ever edition of Epic, and I’m taking that Ultimate Championship. Because I’m not just the best…I’m ‘Marvelous’ Matthew Page. Print that on a shirt, toots.”

MARK DEAN: “The ego on that guy…”

DARREN NASH: “Seems like the type to have a bunch of mirrors all around his house at all times.”




The cameras head back to the ring, as ‘99 Problems’ by Jay-Z begins to play throughout the Hammerstein Ballroom. Connor Jacobs, the native son of New York City, walks out from behind the curtain with a smirk on his face, bobbing his head to the music.

MARK DEAN: “Oh boy, here we go! We’re kicking off the action tonight in these Championship Series qualifying matches and Connor Jacobs is the first broski out the gate. He’ll be coming out swinging!

DARREN NASH: “Yeah, this young kid is fired up and hungry for success – two traits you need to get ahead in this business.

MARK DEAN: “He’s a bit of a punk ass, don’t get me wrong, but this crowd are backing their hometown fighter tonight by the sounds of things.”

He stops at the top of the ramp and drinks in the crowd reaction around him for a few moments, before he poses with his arms stretched out wide for everyone to see. He then lowers his arms and begins walking down the ramp with a swagger in his step. He winks at some ladies sitting close to the side of the ring and points at them.

ANGEL SANTOS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and it is a Championship Series qualifying match! Introducing first, approaching the ring from Brooklyn, New York; weighing in at two hundred and five pounds… Connor JACOBS!”

Connor is distracted, of course, by signing an autograph to one of the ladies on the side, and after he hears his name he points at himself and snaps out of his distraction. He makes his way up the ring steps, leaning on the middle rope, with his smirk never leaving his face, before he dips into the ring through the ropes and throws his arms in the air once again, posing. He then makes his way over to his corner and begins stretching as his music fades out.

DARREN NASH: “Are we getting any of that weird ‘randomizer’ crap that Livewire had for their Lethal Lottery?”

MARK DEAN: “I doubt it, dude. That was just bizarre. Floating heads and random statistics? No thanks. Just hit their music and we’ll do the rest!”

Suddenly, the Ballroom goes black, leaving everyone to sit there in a sudden daze. It lasts like this for several moments before a voice, a rather feminine and alluring voice, chimes in over the loud speakers:

“…Simply…Marveloussssss…”

The voice slowly fades into “Hate Me Now” by Nas featuring Puff Daddy as a spotlight hits the entrance way to show the one and only “Marvelous” Matthew Page standing proudly, his arms extended wide with his head tilted back as the spotlight shines down upon him.

MARK DEAN: “Well, well, well – this should be VERY interesting! Connor Jacobs and Matthew Page are the first two to go toe-to-toe here tonight!”

DARREN NASH: “It’s a clash of styles that should make for an awesome fight! One guy is starving for success and the other just demands it on a silver platter.”

Boos begin heading his way as the video wall lights up with blue and gold graphics as the word “MARVELOUS” in golden cursive lettering appears. The lights pulse to the tempo of the music as Matthew brings his arms down, standing there looking at the ring while wearing his customary blue, black and gold entrance robe. Nodding his head, Page begins walking toward the ring with slow confident strides while ignoring the insults being hurled at him by the fans.

ANGEL SANTOS: “And his opponent… Approaching the ring from Hollywood, California. He weighs in tonight at a trim, ripped, chiseled, and jacked 235 pounds…he is The Marvelous One: Marvelous…Matthew…PAGE!”

Upon announcing his name, the boos intensify as Matthew makes it to the ringside area, a proud smirk on his face. He walks over to and scales the steel steps, getting on the ring apron and wiping his feet before entering the ring. From there, he stands in the center with his arms spread, the arena lights going out except for a lone spotlight that points down on top of him.

MARK DEAN: “I’ve got goosebumps running up and down my arms, bro. I can already promise you that this fight will squash anything you saw last Sunday on that other show.”

DARREN NASH: “You are now rocking with the best, my dude.”

The lights in the Ballroom return to their regularly scheduled glow and Connor Jacobs decides to mock Page by replicating his pose for the New York audience. Matthew Page sizes Jacobs up, as the New York native approaches the turnbuckle, in order to ascend and taunt the crowd. As soon as Connor hops off the apron, Page charges and swipes the back of his knee with a kick, sending the ginger fighter to the canvas like a dropped sack of rocks. The bell abruptly sounds immediately after the cheap shot and the crowd don’t like it.

MARK DEAN: “Oh man, cheap shots galore by Matty Page right there. Listen to this crowd!”

DARREN NASH: “Pissing a New York crowd off is never a good idea, Matt. What are you thinking?”

Instinctively, Jacobs crawls over to the ropes to buy himself some time. Page stalks his prey and looms over him, throwing a wild punch directly at Jacobs’ skull. That punch rocks the hometown fighter back and into the corner of the ring, where Matthew unloads a series of wild stomps to his gut. Stomp after stomp after stomp, ignoring the fact that Connor is holding the ropes in a bid to break any contact. Referee James Cortez warns Page to back away, but it’s a warning that’s promptly ignored. The official begins a count, giving the Marvellous one ample time to listen to reason.

One! Two! Three! Every count signals another stiff stomp to the chest and stomach of the cornered Connor Jacobs. Four!

DARREN NASH: “Page is just taking it straight to Jacobs here, right off the bat.”

MARK DEAN: “Yeah, well, can you blame him? Dude wants to get it done early and start scouting his opponents for the Championship Series League.”

Page backs up before the count of five, finally giving Jacobs’ some much needed respite. It’s short-lived, however, as Page dives towards his ginger foe and proceeds to choke the life out of him with the bottom rope, yanking it upwards while simultaneously pressing Connor’s neck downward. Cortez barks orders at Page for him to get Jacobs up and away from the ropes, while the crowd jeer the Californian for his bullshit.

MARK DEAN: “Jimmy Cortez isn’t missing a beat, to his credit. He’s not afraid to let Page know who the boss is.”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah but that ain’t helping Connor Jacobs, is it? The poor guy is still being choked out like a punk.”

Page shouts something inaudible towards the referee before hauling Jacobs up to his feet and tossing him haphazardly out of the ring through the ropes. It’s a rough landing for the New York native, although he’s not afforded any time to catch his breath. Matthew Page hops through the ropes and grabs Connor up by his neck and his waistband, before whipping him into the steel steps!

CRASH!

The ginger fighter bundles into them, dislodging the two sections from the ring post and, indeed, each other. The crowd moan at the collision, as Jacobs winces in the corner beside the guardrail.

DARREN NASH: “Bro I hate seeing that. It brings back bad memories.”

MARK DEAN: “Connor Jacobs is in a bad, bad way right now, people. His mistake was trying to sass Matthew Page before the bell by mimicking him. Page hasn’t let up from the second this fight got underway and if Connor isn’t careful, the end won’t be far.”

Page looks aggressive and fired up in this encounter, as he hauls Connor Jacobs up, rolling him back into the ring. Wasting little time at all, Page covers his shell-shocked opponent in a bid to end this one nice and early.

ONE! TWO! Connor Jacobs kicks out with enthusiasm and force, refusing to be put down as early as this.

MARK DEAN: “Just a two count as you’d expect, but a sign of intent by Page.”

The ginger love machine motions to get back to a vertical base but Page simply won’t allow it. He mounts Connor and proceeds to punch the fighter straight between the eyes, over and over again with a closed fist that James Cortez doesn’t like the look of. Once again he issues a 5-count warning to Page.

DARREN NASH: “Matthew is all over Connor right now, man! He’s like a bad rash.”

MARK DEAN: “I get the feeling Connor ain’t no stranger to those.”

One! Two! Matthew Page stands to his feet and gets in the face of Cortez, who’s quick to remind him just who the man in charge is.

The marvellous one turns his focus back to Connor Jacobs and takes a punch to the gut for his troubles. The crowd get behind their hometown boy, despite his jarring personality. He whips Page across the ring but Matthew counters it with a reversal and subsequent whip of his own. Jacobs rebounds off the ropes and Page catches him with a scintillating spine buster! The landing creates a thunderous echo through the Hammerstein Ballroom and Connor Jacobs, once again, is laid out.

Page covers. ONE! TWO! Once more, Jacobs kicks out with enthusiasm and anger.

MARK DEAN: “It’s one-way traffic right now and the situation looks bleak for the hometown fighter, that’s for sure.”

DARREN NASH: “Jacobs tried to get some licks in but Page answered it easily. What the hell, man. Connor needs to get the lead out. There’s only so long you can keep kicking out before things get tiring.”

The Californian looks a little frustrated by his opponent’s defiance. He grabs Jacobs up once again and whips him across the ring towards the ropes for a second time. On the return, Page manoeuvres his footing in such a way that enables him to slip behind the New York native and apply a standing sleeper hold. Connor’s legs go a little wobbly, as Page squeezes tightly, cutting off the circulation from the jugular.

DARREN NASH: “Goodnight Connor, this one is all but over.”

MARK DEAN: “You may have spoken too soon, my man! Look at Jacobs!”

Jacobs fights back though, running towards the corner of the ring and dropping to his knees. The sudden manner of the move throws Page off guard, who tumbles face-first into the top turn-buckle. The crowd love watching him get a mouthful of stuffing, as Connor catches his breath while stooped in the corner.

DARREN NASH: “Finally! He’s gotta make it count, though! Get into him, man!”

Matthew Page stumbles out from the corner towards the centre of the ring, presenting Jacobs with an opportunity to strike. The ginger fighter takes it with both hands, lunging at his larger foe and punching him with rights and lefts, throwing all his weight behind the punches. Each fist rocks Page with how furious it lands, before Connor whips the Californian across the ring towards the ropes. He stoops over on the rebound and flips Page over with a back body drop. The marvellous one becomes the victim of some huge elevation and a nasty landing, potentially turning the tides of this affair.

MARK DEAN: “Matty Boy takes flight! Damn, he went soaring!”

DARREN NASH: “Connor has to stay on him though; mount some offense together and really start turning the screw. He’s got a lot of recovering to do.”

Page is quick to return to his feet, although that’s down to the way he bounces back up from the impact of the drop. He’s somewhat disorientated as he returns to Jacobs, who repays him for the standing sleeper moments earlier with one of his own. The crowd are fully behind Connor, who wraps his legs around the waist of the marvellous one and takes him down onto his back.

MARK DEAN: “Sleeper! He’s taken him down with it! Jacobs knows how to put people to sleep inside that ring, bro. Page could be in trouble here.”

DARREN NASH: “No doubt! Matthew’s submission skills are average at best. Look at how Connor has him positioned, too. Bang slap in the middle of the ring. Perfect!”

The grip is locked in tight and – despite his flailing – Page can’t get himself free of the hold. He tries to reach for the ropes but the positioning considered by Connor Jacobs means that those red nylon reprieves are just a few inches out of his reach.

Cortez asks Page if he’s had enough but the bigger man in the fight remains defiant, refusing to concede to a sleeper. This only irritates Jacobs, who wrenches the thick neck of his foe, upping the pressure being applied. Matthew’s eyes widen, as if to suggest his eyeballs are close to being popped out of his sockets. He leans as best as he can to the side, reaching desperately for the ropes. His muscular arm is outstretched as far as it can go. Nearly there… so close…

MARK DEAN: “This could be over right here, man! Page is in bad shape right now!”

DARREN NASH: “See, this is the beauty of submission offense! In a split second the tables can turn and a fight can be finished. Page is out right here!”

… and then it falls. The crowd are ecstatic, as the Californian has faded! James Cortez grabs the limp arm and releases, allowing it to drop for a second time. Jacobs grits his teeth, knowing he’s only one more moment away from beating Matthew Page in his backyard. The official grabs Page’s wrist and hoists his arm skyward. Then he releases…

MARK DEAN: “He’s done it! It’s over!”

It drops! But in the same instant, Matthew’s leg kicks out towards the rope and lands on the middle one, forcing a rope break!

DARREN NASH: “Hold up, Page got his foot on the rope!”

MARK DEAN: “Talk about instant replay, photo finish material! Did his arm drop first? Or did his leg land on the rope first? I need to see it again.”

The crowd are confused as to what’s transpired, with Jacobs relinquishing the hold and celebrating like the fight is over. Of course, James Cortez is the bearer of bad news when he explains what went down. The ginger fighter doesn’t like it and he bickers with the man in the stripes to protest the situation.

MARK DEAN: “Oh, man – tough call there for James Cortez, the official. He says the leg definitely hit the ropes before the arm dropped.”

DARREN NASH: “He saw it better than anyone else and he’s made the call. Jacobs doesn’t like it though and by the sounds of it, neither do the fans.”

With his eyes off the prize, Matthew Page has recovered and charges towards Jacobs from behind. Incredibly, Connor catches it from the corner of his eye just in time, side stepping the oncoming human freight train. Page careens into the corner and bounces back from the collision, directly into a school boy roll up from Jacobs!

New York counts along with Cortez. ONE! TWO! Kick out from Page! Jeers reverberate through the Hammerstein Ballroom.

MARK DEAN: “God damn, I thought that was it!”

DARREN NASH: “Page is all out at sea with no paddle right now. The dude has gone from ass kicker to butt muncher in a second.”

The audacity of the pin attempt gets Matthew back to a vertical base just as quickly as Connor himself, allowing both men to come face to face. Jacobs unleashes on Page, subduing him with a kick, then a chop, then a kick, then a chop, repeating the onslaught over and over again. He throws the occasional punch to keep Page guessing, but every strike feels like it’s coming from the pit of Connor’s gut.

MARK DEAN: “Listen to those shots right now from Connor! He’s lighting Page up with every chop and kick.”

DARREN NASH: “Matty has to get his head back in this game or he can kiss goodbye to his league spot.”

The marvellous one eventually reads the pattern and catches a boot when Jacobs aims a kick towards his gut. Connor looks taken aback by this, hopping on the spot for a few seconds, before delivering a stunning spinning wheel kick! Page hits the canvas hard and Jacobs tries to end the fight with another pin fall attempt.

MARK DEAN: “Spinning wheel kick! He’s covered!”

ONE! TWO! Kick out by Page once again; and once again it’s followed by more jeers from this partisan crowd.

DARREN NASH: “So close! This crowd seem to be fully behind Connor Jacobs right now. He’s gotta use that to his advantage and push on.”

Both men get back to their feet, with Page stumbling over towards the corner of the ring to try and evade his fired up ginger foe. Connor Jacobs stays on the Californian, however, and unloads another furious array of punches and kicks to Page, all of them landing with precision. The New York native whips Page out from the corner, across the ring diagonally – but again it’s countered and reversed by the larger fighter, meaning Jacobs goes charging into the turnbuckle instead. The collegiate wrestler reads it though and leaps up onto the top rope, twisting his body suddenly and aiming a cross body towards Page. Matthew stomps it out – quite literally – with a boot to the gut, forcing Jacobs to stumble onto his knees.

MARK DEAN: “Bro, what the?! That was awesome! What a counter! He plucked him right out of the air with that boot to the gut.”

DARREN NASH: “That was ugly. Jacobs will feel that tomorrow morning when he wakes up.”

With Connor doubled over, Page scoops him up and rotates him in an attempt to deliver ‘Marvel in Motion’, his version of the Go Home Driver! However, on the swing, Jacobs steps out and free of it, running across the ring towards the ropes. This stumps Page, who turns around, oblivious to what’s coming…

MARK DEAN: “There’s the counter! No way!”

DARREN NASH: “Holy shit! What a shot!”

Running knee to the face! He’s wiped out by this stunning strike and the audience are on their feet, as they know what’s coming next. Connor Jacobs performs a cool Lionsault off the second rope, landing it perfectly.

He hooks the legs and this one is over! ONE! TWO! THR- NO! It’s NOT over! Page kicks out in defiance!

MARK DEAN: “Kick-out! How?! How did he get out of that?!”

DARREN NASH: “That’s a move Jacobs calls ‘The Freak’. He’s capable of putting people away with it but not tonight!”

Jacobs heaves with exhaustion and shakes his head, knowing he’s fighting a resilient son of a bitch. He gets to his feet a little quicker than Page does and proceeds to scoop slam the Californian back down to the canvas. The ginger fighter studies his surroundings and decides to go high, in a bid to beat the bigger man with moves he’s not equipped to handle. Slowly but surely, Jacobs reaches his lofty destination on the top turnbuckle, staring down at his adversary, who is now on his feet. Connor leaps forth and Page grabs referee Jimmy Cortez, pushing him towards the flight path, while simultaneously diving towards the ropes!

MARK DEAN: “Hey, wait a minute!”

DARREN NASH: “Oh snap! Jimmy Cortez just got bulldozed!”

Connor is quick enough to avoid the official and land on his feet, as Page pushes himself off the ropes and heads towards Jacobs. The New York native grabs him, however, and delivers his patented Exploder Suplex!

MARK DEAN: “The Stage 5 Clinger! The Stage 5 Clinger! It’s over!”

DARREN NASH: “Cortez is out on his ass though, bro! He’s in la-la-land.”

The crowd are electric, as Jacobs covers Matthew Page and looks to draw a close to the fight… But there’s no count. The audience are riled up by this, as Page is seemingly out; unfortunately, so is the referee.

MARK DEAN: “You could count to 10 right now, Page ain’t kicking out!”

DARREN NASH: “Full credit to Matty Page right there for taking out the official. The guy seized an opportunity and he’s still in this fight because of it.”

Jacobs shakes his head and breaks the pin, before heading directly for the official. He kicks Cortez lightly, trying to bring him around. Of course, the force of the shove from Matthew Page seconds earlier resulted in a nasty collision with the ropes. Connor grabs at James Cortez, shaking him and doing all he can to bring him back to consciousness. It works eventually, as the man in the stripes begins moving again, albeit slowly.

MARK DEAN: “Page is back on his feet!”

Jacobs turns his focus back to Matthew Page… boot to the gut! The ginger fighter moans from the force and doubles over, opening himself up to the Underhook Double Piledriver that Matthew Page likes to call…

MARK DEAN: “Marvellous Extinction! Goodnight Connor Jacobs!”

DARREN NASH: “Ah, man – what a way to go! Where’s the justice?”

Connor Jacobs lies on the canvas, limp and lifeless. Matthew Page covers his broken foe and the referee makes a slow, tired count. ONE! … TWO! … THREE!

MARK DEAN: “It’s over! Matthew Page scores the victory here in controversial circumstances.”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah, you have to feel for Jacobs – the dude managed to recover from a terrible start to boss his way back into the fight, only to get screwed at the end with some quick thinking and shenanigans.”

The bell sounds and “Hate me Now” by Nas and Puff Daddy bellows through the Hammerstein Ballroom, drowning out the chorus of jeers being directed at Marvellous Matthew Page.

ANGEL SANTOS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, here is your winner… Matthew PAGE!”

The Californian rises to his feet and clutches his rib cage, looking delighted with himself, if not in considerable pain from the fight put forth by Connor Jacobs. James Cortez motions to raise Page’s hand in victory, but the native of California yanks it away, refusing to be paraded around by the official.

MARK DEAN: “Alright, so check it out, Matthew Page is the first person to advance to the League of Four. He’s one step closer to that EOW Ultimate Championship match at EPIC 1.”

A graphic appears on screen for the audience, revealing the League of Four and the confirmation that Matthew Page has booked himself into it.



DARREN NASH: “There he is, spot well and truly booked, bro! Well done to the guy, I say. You do what you have to do in this business. Simple as that.”

The cameras head backstage.



The footage opens up backstage to where EOW superstar Jack Owyns is facing the wall. He has his head rested up against it as he holds his cellphone to his ear.

JACK OWYNS: “Nah, just listen for one sec.”

Jack shakes his head side to side while his forehead is still in contact with the wall.

JACK OWYNS: “You don’t even need to come down here, you can just watch it on Hulu. That is all I am asking.”

Jack pulls his head away from the wall.

JACK OWYNS: “How the fuck am I supposed to prove I’ve changed if you won’t even fuckin’ bother to watch, huh? Like seriously, you ain’t even given me a chance here.”

Jack turns around and leans up against the wall now.

JACK OWYNS: “No all I’m saying is just grab Mac and just watch it. That’s it. No harm.”

Oddball, Jack’s agent and manager, enters into the scene.

ODDBALL: “Good news?”

Oddball gives Jack two thumbs up.

JACK OWYNS: “Get the fuck out of here.”

Jack places the palm of his hand into Oddball’s face and pushes him away,

JACK OWYNS: “NO! Not you, I was talking to fuckin’ Oddball. Hello?”

Jack takes the cellphone from his ear and looks at the screen.

JACK OWYNS: “Fuckin’ stupid ass bitch!”

Jack baseball throws his cellphone against the opposite wall. Oddball looks at the cellphone and then back at Jack.

ODDBALL: “Sooo, they coming?”

Jack walks away looking ready to just snap.



Continuing backstage, the cameras are following an irritated Valentina Lemay. She is walking hastily in an effort to track down Livewire General Manager, Ernie Parker, who seems to have shown up with a plan to cause trouble.

MARK DEAN: " Valentina does not look happy, bro."

DARREN NASH: "Of course she’s not, the old dude turns up and thinks he can just help himself to someone on our roster? Lemay’s not going to settle for that."

As Valentina scans the corridors, she hears a familiar voice and spots a man up ahead. He has his back to her, but she can see it’s not Ernie. As she gets closer she realizes it’s none other than Livewire Backstage Correspondent, Kirk Collins.

MARK DEAN: "Collins? What the hell is he doing here?"

DARREN NASH: "Man, these guys have no respect just crashing in on Victory like this. Who’s next? Chapman? "

Valentina is about to try and get Kirk’s attention to quiz him on Ernie when she realizes he’s on his phone.

KIRK COLLINS: “Don’t back down, that’s what he wants. He’ll only let the two of you down again.”

There’s a pause as he listens to the response.

KIRK COLLINS: “He said what?! That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about, Deanna. Trust me, Owyns is bad news. Do not let Mac watch Victory, giving that sort of behavior an audience is the worst thing you can do.”

Valentina decides she doesn’t want to hear anymore and purposefully clears her throat to get his attention. He glances round and his face turns to panic.

KIRK COLLINS: “I’ve got to go, I’ll speak to you later.”

He frantically puts his phone in his suit jacket’s inside pocket and turns to face her.

KIRK COLLINS: “Valentina! How are you?”

VALENTINA LEMAY: “Well, I’ve got Ernie running around here trying to take my talent, and now I’ve got you telling people not to watch the show. How do you think I am? I expected better from you, Kirk.”

Kirk looks uncomfortable; he doesn’t know what to say so chooses to say nothing.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “Why do you have such an interest on whether Owyns’ daughter watches the show?”

KIRK COLLINS: “Her mom and I have recently become friends.

He pauses, not wanting to divulge any more information.

KIRK COLLINS: “Uhh... about what you just heard, any chance you could keep that between us? You and I both know Jack’s a loose cannon and I’d rather he didn’t know any of this until I’m out of here.”

Valentina nods.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “I won’t say a word. I don’t suppose you know where your boss is?”

The relief on Kirk’s face is hard not to notice.

KIRK COLLINS: “Thanks a lot, and no. The last I saw him he was headed to the locker room, if that helps? Anyway, I better go finish up.”

Kirk gestures that he's headed in the opposite directions and rushes off. Valentina heads off, presumably towards the locker room and Ernie Parker.

DARREN NASH: "Can you believe that dude? Telling people not to watch our show?"

MARK DEAN: "That's the difference between Victory and Livewire, we don't need to be playing tactics like that. Our show speaks for itself. Watch Livewire all you want everyone, you'll still want to tune in for Victory!"




The cameras head back to ringside, as “Roxanne” by Alpha begins to play and the fans erupt with cheers. Mysti Savage steps through the curtains wearing a black velvet hoody.

MARK DEAN: “Here we go, man! It’s time for the second qualifying match of the night and it’s Mysti Savage who’s next to be drawn!”

DARREN NASH: “It sucks that we’re up here in the sound booth when Mysti is down at ringside. I’d love a contact high from her.”

She strides to the ring never losing focus despite the fans going nuts for her. Mysti enters the ring and drops the hood down to her shoulders just before stepping onto the middle ring rope, slapping her shoulder twice, and then holding out her left hand making an "M" with her pinky, ring, and index fingers.

ANGEL SANTOS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and is your second Championship Series Qualifying match! First, standing in the ring from Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at one hundred and twenty pounds… Mysti SAVAGE!”

She leaps down quickly and removes her hoody completely before awaiting the arrival of her mystery opponent.

One big room, full'a bad bitches
One big room, full'a bad bitches
One big room, full'a bad bitches
One big room, full'a bad biches

The beginning to Kreayshawn's "Gucci Gucci" plays as images of the stunning redhead, Felix Hartley, flash on the large, LED screen above the stage.

DARREN NASH: “Oh yes!”

MARK DEAN: “Felix Hartley! These chicks have been going at each other from the moment they both set foot in EOW and signed for Victory! This is gonna be a classic!”

The fans begin booing the originator of "Ass, Class & Sass" as the self-proclaimed Selfie Queen slowly saunters out to the top of the ramp.

And we stuntin' like, 
Gucci Gucci, Louis Louis, Fendi Fendi, Prada
Them basic bitches wear that shit so I don't even bother

As the chorus kicks in, Felix keeps her hands authoritatively on her hips, swaying them as her glittered robe trails behind her on the floor. A few of the fans reach out to grab her but she pulls her arms into her sides, an almost terminally disgusted look plastered across her face.

ANGEL SANTOS: “And her opponent… approaching the ring from Las Vegas, Nevada, weighing in at one hundred and fourteen pounds… Felix HARLEY!”

She gracefully ascends the steps to the ring, tugging on the sides of her robe as if it were a ball gown. She walks to the centre of the apron, pulling the robe open to expose her bronzed and toned body, a glistening smile from ear-to-ear. Dropping the robe on the floor for some sorry stagehand to gather, Felix latches onto the ropes and flips backwards over the top rope. Landing on her feet with one leg slightly bent, she flips her hair in one fluid motion and blows a kiss with a wink into the camera, before studying Mysti Savage with a look of equal disgust and judgement.

MARK DEAN: “These two hate each other, that much is clear.”

DARREN NASH: “Do you really think they do? I’m not sure, bro. I think it’s more a case of Felix enjoying mocking Mysti for her random, THC-induced rambles. Savage might hate her, but then I don’t think hippies are allowed to hate. It goes against their religion.”

The New York audience are firmly behind Mysti Savage, as the bell sounds to start the fight. Both women charge at one another, locking up with an aggressive collar-and-elbow tie. They don’t like each other and their viciousness right out the gate reflects that fact. Savage - despite having a strength disadvantage here – uses her speed to quickly apply a tight headlock, ruffling the red locks of Hartley. Felix smirks at the sheer disrespect shown in the move and pushes Mysti away quickly, before circling the Boston native for a few seconds, in a bid to collect herself.

The women come together for a second time and motion to engage in another collar-and-elbow tie up, but Savage switches it up with an arm bar attempt. She tries her best to lock Felix up, but the red-head shrugs free of the move and backs away again, refusing to be bested by the self-proclaimed ‘sensational’ one.

After some inaudible – presumably unpleasant – verbal exchanges between the two, they come together for a third time, with Mysti Savage challenging Felix Hartley to lock up in a test of strength. Hartley obliges, although uses her cunning as opposed to her strength. Ass, Class & Sass drives her knee into the gut of Savage, before quickly rolling her up with a school boy pin.

Referee Roland Chang makes the cover. ONE! Mysti kicks out.

MARK DEAN: “Just a one! Way too early.”

Felix Hartley stays on her foe, however, rolling over her and applying a small package pin attempt. Chang begins a second count. ONE! Savage kicks out once more.

The red head rolls back onto her feet and waits for Mysti to join her, before delivering a sunset flip pin attempt, much to the frustration of the Boston native. The official makes a third count. ONE! Savage, for a third time, kicks out.

DARREN NASH: “Smart strategy by Felix Hartley here, man. She’s just wearing her opponent down with pin attempt after pin attempt.”

MARK DEAN: “Yeah, there’s no doubt that kicking out of a cover takes some gas. You don’t wanna spend your energy like that.”

Hartley returns to a vertical base, grinning with satisfaction, while Savage gets back to her feet by the corner of the ring. Ass, Class & Sass charges towards her and delivers a firm body splash, squashing Mysti between the turnbuckle pads and 115 pounds of sexy. The move winds Savage but Hartley doesn’t give her the necessary time to regain composure.

MARK DEAN: “Hottest… Body splash… Ever.”

Felix drags her out from the corner towards the middle of the ring, taunting the audience who jeer her. With Mysti doubled over, Hartley slaps her square across the skull – a strike that echoes through the Hammerstein Ballroom. Savage clutches at her head as the audience moan at the power behind the slap. The red head grabs her opponent and aims her towards the corner of the ring again with an Irish Whip, but Savage reverses it and sends Felix hurtling into the turn-buckle pads instead. Mysti runs at her foe but Felix throws an elbow back towards her, catching her jaw in the process. This subdues Mysti, who backs off a little and nurses her face.

DARREN NASH: “If Mysti keeps taking licks to the head like that, she won’t be able to go much longer.”

Hartley springboards to the top turn-buckle before twisting her body 180 degrees to attempt some sort of aerial offense. The pay-off never arrives, however, as Savage catches her with a sickening kick to the ribs. The connection sounds through the ringside area, sending the fans into a frenzy. Hartley clutches at her midsection and falls to her knees. That one hurt.

MARK DEAN: “Jesus, dude! That kick could have easily broken some ribs! Felix is in trouble.”

DARREN NASH: “Man, I felt that for her! That’ll drive all the wind out of your body in a hot second.”

The red haired beauty has no choice but to roll out of the ring to try and buy herself some much needed recovery time. Mysti Savage just watches her, smirking at the satisfaction of being able to floor the cocky young fighter from Las Vegas. Roland Chang begins counting Hartley out, not giving her any time to dally.

ONE! … TWO! … THREE! … FOUR! … FIVE! … SIX!

Felix crawls back into the ring before the count of seven, but she’s clearly hurt. Savage pounces like a rabid dog, striking her with rights and lefts that keep Hartley subdued. The ‘sensational’ one backs up a few steps, sizing her opponent up, before running at her with a knee attack, striking the side of her skull!

Savage makes the cover, prompting Chang to get moving. ONE! TWO! TH- Hartley gets her shoulder up, keeping this fight alive.

MARK DEAN: “Foxy Felix ain’t looking so hot right now, dude.”

DARREN NASH: “After being kicked in the rib cage like that, it just takes it right out of you. You remember what that feels like, man – it’s not pretty. Trying to breathe becomes a chore. It gasses you out quickly. That head shot with the knee could be game over.”

Mysti Savage grabs Hartley by her long, red hair and whips her into the corner of the ring, before following up with a running hip bump splash, squashing Felix into the turn-buckles. The impact is severe and Hartley rebounds out, only to fall to her knees and lean against the middle rope for support. The little fighter from Boston spots this as an opportunity to inflict further suffering and misery upon a woman who’s become an enemy recently. Savage presses her knee against the back of Hartley’s neck, choking her against the rope as a result of that.

MARK DEAN: “Damn, check Mysti out! She doesn’t usually bend the rules like this.”

DARREN NASH: “She’s in the ring with a chick she can’t stand, for an opportunity to become the Ultimate Champion. You do what you have to do, bro.”

Roland Chang doesn’t stand for this and warns her with a disqualification count. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Savage backs off before the five count, holding her hands up to protest her willingness to comply.

Felix Hartley slumps to the canvas, looking to be in bad shape since the stiff kick to the ribs earlier in the fight. Savage covers her again in the hopes of ending this one. ONE! TWO! Hartley kicks out of the pin, refusing to be put away here.

MARK DEAN: “Felix Hartley is all out at sea right now. Savage is just dominating.”

The ‘Sensational’ one hauls Hartley back to a vertical base and drags her over to the corner of the ring, but before she can mount any further offense, Ass, Class & Sass drills her with a knee to the side, before grabbing her dreadlocks and bouncing her head into the turn-buckle pad, over and over again. On the fifth bounce, Savage turns out of it and retaliates, bouncing Hartley’s skull off the turn-buckle once. It causes the red head to fall to her knees again.

DARREN NASH: “It’s gotta be the ribs, broski. Every time Felix tries to get back into this, Mysti puts herself right back in the driver’s seat. If Hartley isn’t able to breathe right, she can’t do anything.”

Hartley clambers onto the middle ropes for a second time, draped over them at the waist. Savage rolls out of the ring and heads for the guard railings, sizing Felix up. The crowd are fully behind Mysti, who grins and charges at her red-headed prey, before leaping up with a bicycle kick that connects perfectly with Hartley’s skull!

MARK DEAN: “Oh my God! Did you hear that?!”

Mysti scrambles back into the ring in pursuit of Felix Hartley, who fell back into the middle of the squared circle with the force of the impact. Savage covers and this one looks like it’s over. ONE! TWO! THR-NO! Somehow, some way, Felix Hartley kicks out!

DARREN NASH: “This is gonna be a massacre if Felix can’t get her ass into gear.”

MARK DEAN: “As you said, dude; breathing is everything. That kick from earlier has changed the game.”

Savage refuses to become flustered by the resiliency of her foe, instead electing to continue to assault on the head. She drags Hartley up and heads back to the corner, looking to drill her skull into the turn-buckles, just as Felix did to her moments earlier. The strength advantage that Hartley possesses is too much for Savage though, and the red head blocks all attempts by grabbing the top ropes on either side of the corner.

Ass, Class & Sass throws her elbow back towards Savage and rocks her with a strike, before grabbing her head and firing it repeatedly into the turn-buckle pad. She roars with every shot, looking to vent the anger at being dominated over the past few minutes. The head shots are piston-like in their execution and Mysti’s eyes glaze over a little, showing that they’ve clearly affected her.

MARK DEAN: “Check the aggression from Hartley! She’s unloading right now!”

DARREN NASH: “Bro, can you blame her? I’d be PISSED if I was her! She’s been owned for the last few minutes by a chick who most of the Victory roster don’t take seriously.”

The ‘Sensational’ one flops to her knees, as Felix grits her teeth in a bid to overcome the pain in her ribs. She grabs Savage and executes a perfect snap suplex, driving Mysti into the canvas with authority. The dreadlock rocking fighter sits up, clutching at her shoulder and neck, wincing in agony. Felix, however, wastes no time in capitalising on her advantage. She rebounds off the ropes from behind Savage and drills her with a diving elbow, connecting with the spine of the ‘Sensational’ one. Savage roars in pain, as Hartley gets up, runs at the ropes in front of Mysti and rebounds, this time connecting with a slick front dropkick.

MARK DEAN: “Now Felix is getting into third gear here. She needs to.”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah this is vital for Hartley’s chances. She needs to hurt Savage and somehow regulate that breathing at the same time.”

Savage is laid out, while Felix rolls back up, rebounds off the ropes to the side of her fallen foe and executes the perfect single rotation senton splash. She lands on the solar plexus of Savage, driving the wind out of her sails and the THC out of her lungs.

Hartley makes the cover. ONE! TWO! TH-No! Mysti Savage fights out of the pinning predicament, keeping her hopes of advancing in this tournament well and truly alive.

DARREN NASH: “This is better from Hartley, but the fans don’t like it.”

MARK DEAN: “Yeah they’re making their feelings perfectly clear. New York stands with Savage.”

Felix drags Mysti Savage back to her feet and whips her across the ring, but Savage – again – counters it and reverses, sending Hartley into the ropes instead. Ass, Class & Sass has enough wherewithal to read this though and leaps through the ropes, rather than rebounding off them. Mysti hasn’t spotted this and runs at the opposite set of ropes, rebounding towards Felix, who has leapt up to the top rope with a slingshot manoeuvre. The redhead delivers a diving hurricanrana, turning Mysti Savage inside out!

DARREN NASH: “Bro, what the?! That was sick!”

Hartley heaves with exhaustion but doesn’t stop there. She rolls back onto her feet and stalks Savage, who slowly gets on her knees. Felix runs at her, hooks her head, springboards off the second rope and delivers a scintillating headlock takedown!

MARK DEAN: “The Slut Shamer! This could be curtains for Savage!”

Hartley fires punches to the dome of her dread-locked, head-locked foe, looking to knock Savage out by the looks of things. Eventually, Mysti stops flailing her legs and Hartley covers her.

ONE! TWO! THR-NO! Savage kicks out, against the odds!

DARREN NASH: “Oh man, I thought that might have been curtains for Savage! I’m not sure how she kicked out of that.”

Felix Hartley shakes her head, growing slightly more irritated by her opponent’s defiance. She drags her up by the hair and heads for the corner, before applying another headlock and signalling for her #BadBitch face planter. The crowd jeer this, as she runs forward, taking Savage with her. However, as she leaps up to deliver the bulldog, Savage throws all her might into a push, tossing Felix mid-air! The redhead is taken by surprise and looks shocked as she lands on her feet. She turns around and walks straight into a running clothesline, wiping her out.

DARREN NASH: “Savage just has no quit. She’s relentless!”

Savage winces in pain and screams passionately, desperate to get back on the offensive footing here. She hops up onto the top turn-buckle and delivers a wonderful 450 splash. It connects perfectly and the pin fall ensues.

MARK DEAN: “Mysti with the Savagesault! She’s fighting back here.”

ONE! TWO! TH- Hartley gets her shoulder up before Chang can strike the canvas for the three count.

DARREN NASH: “Man, this is back and forth! I couldn’t call it at this point.”

Both women look spent and the audience are in to the fight in a big way, given their reaction to it. Hartley rolls onto her side and, eventually, all fours. Savage sees this as her chance to strike, so runs at the ropes and rebounds, delivering a Shining Wizard kick! Felix Hartley loses some saliva from her mouth upon impact, as she collapses in a heap on the canvas.

Savage pins again. Chang counts. ONE! TWO! THR- No! Felix Hartley kicks out yet again, refusing to concede defeat!

MARK DEAN: “Did you see that?! Was that a tooth that flew out of Hartley’s mouth?!”

DARREN NASH: “Nah, it was just spit; something I hear she doesn’t do very often!”

Felix Hartley rolls over towards the corner of the ring, calling towards the official, Roland Chang, insisting that she’s hurt her neck. The referee runs to her aid and the audience boo this heavily. Mysti Savage watches on, unsure on what to make of this.

MARK DEAN: “Bro, hold up a second. This looks bad. Felix is hurt.”

DARREN NASH: “Ah damn, that’s not good. She’s complaining about her neck. The force of that Shining Wizard must have done some damage.”

Ass, Class & Sass winces and shakes her head as she sits up, pointing out her area of pain to Chang. Roland calls for the medical staff at ringside to intervene, but Savage lives up to her last name by butting in. She grabs Hartley by the hair and drags her away from the corner, before signalling for her modified full nelson face-buster, a move she calls ‘Mystic Malice’.

MARK DEAN: “Savage doesn’t care right now! She’s looking to end this thing!”

Roland Chang shouts at Mysti, trying his best to prize her grip off Hartley in order to provide the red-head with some medical attention. Savage releases her hold and backs away a little, which is when Hartley springs to life, having made a miraculous recovery. The fighter from Las Vegas drives a forearm into Mysti’s skull, only to grab her and execute her shoulder jaw breaker!

DARREN NASH: “Wait, what the hell?!”

MARK DEAN: “Felix with the Lock Jaw! The Lock Jaw from Hartley!”

Chang looks lost by the whole thing, as Hartley covers the fallen foe. The audience know that Felix was playing possum but all’s fair in love and war. ONE! TWO! THREE!

MARK DEAN: “She conned everyone! It’s over!”

DARREN NASH: “Bro, she was crying wolf?! I can’t even right now!”

The bell sounds, although you can barely hear it from the chorus of jeers and expletives being thrown at Hartley from the crowd. Roland Chang questions the redhead over her injury, but Felix only smirks and rotates her arms to signify that she’s just fine.

ANGEL SANTOS: “Ladies and Gentlemen here is your winner… Felix HARLEY!”

‘Gucci Gucci’ by Kreayshawn roars through the Hammerstein Ballroom, as Felix Hartley saunters around the ring, circling the fallen Mysti Savage.

MARK DEAN: “She’s only a young pup but damn, she’s got the brains for this business.”

DARREN NASH: “Savage put up more of a fight than I think Hartley was expecting here, so what else was she supposed to do? You win by any means necessary when you step between the ropes. If she’s got the smarts, she’s got to use them!”

MARK DEAN: “No doubt, bro. Foxy Felix books her place in the League of Four. Here’s how it’s looking right now.”

The League Table graphic re-appears on screen, confirming Hartley’s entry to it.



DARREN NASH: “It’s going to be very interesting to see how Page and Hartley fare when they have to go head to head.”

MARK DEAN: “I can’t wait for that clash! But hey, we’re so busy focusing on the League of Four that we’re overlooking the Internet Championship match later on tonight, dude. Savage enters that Redemption Challenge along with Connor Jacobs and, I gotta tell ya, both fighters looked strong out here tonight. This four way is shaping up to be pretty awesome!”

Hartley flicks her hair and exits the ring, having done exactly what she said she was going to do: succeed.



The camera focuses in on the young beautiful face of Hope Gordon; backstage interviewer on the Victory brand. She flips some hair behind her shoulder before looking up at the camera and smiling, brightly.

HOPE GORDON: "Hello there Victory fans. So far it has been an exciting show to say the least but now I am here with one of the newest additions to the roster - Harper Riley."

Wasting no time, the camera quickly pans to the right. Harper Riley is dressed causally. Jeans, albeit designer and a T-Shirt with the face of Finn Whelan on the front.

HARPER RILEY: "Thank you for asking to interview me."

The blonde is straight faced, unnaturally rigid and proper.

HOPE GORDON: "Well I'm just surprised that more people don't realize who you are. The daughter of wrestling legend Martin Riley, The bruiser. Not to mention that your brother Holden was pretty accomplished until the more recent incident."

Harper nods.

HARPER RILEY: "Yes, Well my father did make himself either loved or hated by many but that is the way this works. You either want to be on shirts and have crowds chanting your name, or you are the villain and get the disdain of the public and co-workers alike."

Hope smiles, nodding her head yet Harper remains without any discernible emotional response.

HOPE GORDON: "And which do you strive to be?"

This question actually gets the hint of a smirk from the blonde.

HARPER RILEY: "Now there is the million dollar question Miss Gordon. You see that is not up for me to decide. There are many in this company that try too hard to convince the audience about who they are. They try to fit the mold of what will please the crowds more. But, try as they might it just doesn't work out that way. Regardless of my crowd and roster reaction I will continue to be who I am. Spent far too many years pretending to be someone else."

Hope looks confused at this. Harper answers before she can ask.

HARPER RILEY: "In the world I grew up in, there is no individuals only the swarm mentality. It is a bit of a relief to not have to put on any masks here."

Harper smiles, putting a hand on the shoulder of the young journalist.

HARPER RILEY: "But no need for you to worry about any of that."

She looks the younger woman up and down.

HARPER RILEY: "You seem to have the, ‘Be yourself and screw what people think’ thing down to a science. It's admirable. I'm so spoiled by the fashion scene that it's uncomfortable even to wear this T-Shirt."

Ignoring Harper’s hidden insult, intentionally or not, Hope takes the lead.

HOPE GORDON: "Speaking of that, You are wearing a Finn Whelan shirt tonight. Are you a fan? Do you have him as a favourite to win? Earlier this week you complimented Jack Owyns and got into a war with Felix Hartley, what's your take on it?"

Harper smirks again.

HARPER RILEY: "I am being diplomatic here and saying that it truly is anyone’s win. There are too many factors to take into consideration to give a true answer. As for my shirt? I simply picked the less gaudy of the choices at the concession. I want to show support for my new company after all."

HOPE GORDON: "And Felix?"

This time Harper chuckles.

HARPER RILEY: "She claims to play mind games, but doesn't realize that other people have them too. People count me out for being new but forget that once upon a time, they were in my shoes. That's hypothetical of course. Only I wear my shoes, there are far too many diseases with feet."

Harper shudders.

HARPER RILEY: "I was seeing what her reaction would be after an insignificant argument how she would react. She did exactly as I thought she would. Tried to goad me into responding to her cattiness. But that is how I operate and I have full disclosure about who and what I am. I am not trying to deceive anyone into believing I am someone else. At least... not anymore."

HOPE GORDON: "So are you saying you think Felix is fake?"

Harper shrugs.

HARPER RILEY: If I were saying that, you would have heard me have the ‘balls’ enough to say it."

She uses quote fingers.

HARPER RILEY: "But I am sure people will psychoanalyse every word I say in an attempt to ‘get to me’ all the same."

Hope nods, obvious that she doesn't quite know how to take Harper.

HOPE GORDON: "Well I know I am looking forward to seeing you in action on the next Victory show."

Harper gives a ‘professional’ smile and shakes Hope’s free hand.

HARPER RILEY: "Anytime Miss Gordon. I have absolutely nothing to hide. You are open to request interviews at your convenience. Good night."

With that dismissal, Harper turns and walks away. Hope seems a little unsure of what to say so the camera fade out to ringside.




The cameras head outside to find Jack Owyns pacing back and forth just outside the exit. Valentina Lemay emerges from inside, looking around, she spots Jack and walks towards him.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Ernie around have you?”

JACK OWYNS: “That old fuckin’ pervert? Nah. Why’s he here anyway? Shouldn’t he be off trying to fuck some Barbie doll wannabe?”

Valentina looks surprised that Jack doesn’t know anything about Ernie being at the show.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “Haven’t you seen anything?”

JACK OWYNS: “I’ve got other shit to do than watch those fuckin’ idiots talk about how awesome they think they are. I’ve been too busy tryin’ to get my daughter to watch the damn show, doesn’t look like that will fuckin’ happen though.”

Valentina looks down, clearly thinking about her earlier encounter with Kirk Collins, before looking back to Jack.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “Well you could be up next, so don’t sit around out here too long.”

Valentina turns around to walk away as Jack mutters back.

JACK OWYNS: “HA! Nah, I’ll be there, I’ve got some fuckin’ rage to get rid of.”

Valentina hears him and it stops her in her tracks. She stops to think for a second and then turns back around and walks towards him with the hint of a grin on her face.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “You're probably right not to count on Mackenzie watching."

Jack arches his brow, curious about where this was going.

JACK OWYNS: “What do you know about it?"

Valentina steps a little closer.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “Well..."

The conversation continues as we head back to ringside for the latest draw.

DARREN NASH: "I wonder what that was about?"

MARK DEAN: "Who know's, man. Maybe she had some advice to help calm him down?"

DARREN NASH: "Yeah, maybe. Hope it worked because he could be next up!"




‘Intro 2’ by NF explodes over the theatres airwaves, and the crowd instantly reacts with a chorus of boos. Jack Owyns steps out from behind the black curtain; showing a wicked grin, ear to ear, accompanied by Oddball.

MARK DEAN: “Uh oh, here comes the Villain himself!”

DARREN NASH: “This should be interesting! There’s only three guys left for him to fight: Finn Whelan, Bryan Williams or Jason Kaine. All of them pose different threats. Who do you think he’s hoping for?”

MARK DEAN: “Honestly, amigo? I don’t think he cares. He just fights anyone at any time.”

Jack reveals both middle fingers, raising them chest height and directing them towards the disapproving fans in attendance. Jack walk down the aisle, blasting the fans with insults. His smile remains intact.

ANGEL SANTOS: “The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and it is your third Championship Series Qualifying match! Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by Oddball, from Seattle, Washington, weighing in at two hundred and fifty-four pounds… Jack OWYNS!”

Jack walks up the stairs and stops by the turnbuckle and scans the crowd before jumping over the top rope and coming to a sitting position in the corner. He rests his arms on the ropes, as the music begins to fade out.

MARK DEAN: “Time to find out who he’ll be facing…”

‘Unsung’ immediately begins to play, the heavy guitar riff and drums backing the intense sound ripping out towards the audience. The main riff starts, playing over and over as the lights turn down. Strobes going along to the beat of the song. Bryan Williams walks out from the back, head held down low.

MARK DEAN: “Oh damn! That’s an awesome draw!”

DARREN NASH: “Bryan Williams! So it’ll be The Villain versus The Leviathan. That means the final fight is Jason Kaine and Finn Whelan.”

The song continues to play, as Bryan stands on the top of the ramp. With his head down, Bryan holds up his right hand and extends his pointer finger. He holds it up momentarily, eventually beginning to walk down to the ring as the song continues.

ANGEL SANTOS: “And his opponent, approaching the ring from Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at two hundred and ten pounds… Bryan WILLIAMS!”

Bryan makes his way to the ring, walking at a brisk pace towards the ring. He doesn't waste much time getting into the ring, walking up the steel steps and climbing in through the top and middle rope. With a serious look on his face, Bryan stands across from Owyns, eyeballing him.

MARK DEAN: “You have to believe that there’s some pressure on Williams here tonight. His tag team partner won the EOW Heavyweight Championship last week on Livewire. He’ll know that people expect him to match that with qualification tonight.”

DARREN NASH: “That’s made a lot more difficult knowing that he’s gotta get past a veteran like Jack Owyns to do it.”

The bell sounds and both men instantly run at each other, with Bryan Williams heading low. He takes a swipe at the left knee of Owyns, forcing the fighter to the canvas. Williams immediately steps behind Jack and applies a sleeper hold, wrenching the neck of the ‘Villain’ as firmly as possible. Jack winces and extends his arms, wiggling his fingers to keep the blood flowing. Oddball shouts chants of support on the outside, willing his best friend on.

Eventually Owyns fights his way back to a vertical base, before forcing himself free of the hold. Williams boots him square in the gut before whipping him across the ring, into the ropes. Owyns rebounds and Bryan aims a knife edge chop towards him. Jack ducks it, however, before running to the opposite end of the ring and rebounding back once more. He catches the unsuspecting Williams with a running forearm smash, taking the fighter off his feet to the canvas.

MARK DEAN: “Strong start by Owyns, taking the fight to Williams.”

DARREN NASH: “Jack is showing intent here. That’s what all these guys need to do; show their opponent that they mean business.”

Williams gets right back up and looks to continue the fight but he’s taken down again by a second forearm smash. This time, Bryan rolls out of the ring to buy himself some time and break the cycle.

Jack Owyns shakes his head in frustration at Williams’ reluctance to engage, so charges towards the ropes and dives through them, spearing Bryan to the protective mats outside. Despite the standing that the ‘Villain’ has with the crowd, they do applaud the athleticism on display.

MARK DEAN: “Damn, Jack Owyns is really going for this!”

DARREN NASH: “That’s smarts on both sides. You’ve got Bryan Williams getting the hell out of the ring to stop any momentum and then you’ve got Owyns saying “screw that” and not giving him an inch. Williams isn’t going to be allowed to play mind games here.”

Jack grabs Williams and rolls him back into the ring, but as he follows him back under the bottom rope, Bryan uses his experience and intelligence to keep rolling, exiting the ring on the opposite side. Any time he can buy himself in order to recover, he obviously will. Owyns screams at the referee to intervene, but senior official Harry Henderson explains that it’s all legal.

Owyns exits the ring and grabs Williams, aiming to toss him back into the squared circle. However, Bryan is prepared for it and drives his knee into the gut of the Villain, before throwing him aggressively into the guard rails!

CRASH!

Jack Owyns bounces against the iron railings and looks winded by the collision. The crowd cheer the viciousness of the move and get firmly behind Williams.

MARK DEAN: “Ouch! He’ll feel that one in the morning.”

DARREN NASH: “This is aggressive, bro. These two are just going for it. I love it.”

Oddball pulls at his own hair, staring in concern over Jack’s condition. The Leviathan stomps down upon the fallen body of his opponent, targeting that left knee in a precise assault. Stomp after stomp ensues, before Williams hauls Owyns up and looks to roll him back into the ring. This time, Owyns is equal to it and delivers a counter of his own, tossing Bryan Williams into the steel steps!

CRASH!

Bryan lands hard and it’s ugly. The crunching sound of bone against steel echoes through the Hammerstein Ballroom and the noise itself conjures a sinister grin across the face of the Villain.

MARK DEAN: “Look at him! That sick son of a bitch loves it.”

DARREN NASH: “He’s a twisted dude. No doubt about that. He needs to get back in the ring though before he gets counted out.”

Owyns grabs Williams and rolls him back into the ring, with Harry Henderson at a count of eight. He stomps at the fallen body of Williams before grabbing him up to his feet. Bryan strikes back with a few vicious punches and chops, before whipping Owyns into the corner of the ring. Williams runs at him and delivers a step up knee strike to Jack’s jaw, levelling him with the shot.

MARK DEAN: “Step up knee strike! Owyns is rocked right now!”

Bryan returns to the corner and props Jack on the top turn-buckle, before stepping up on the second ropes and hooking his arm into a suplex position. The crowd cheer in anticipation for the move, but a kidney punch from Owyns thwarts any superplexes for the time being. Williams relinquishes the position and Jack begins clubbing at the Leviathan’s back with merciless fury, desperately trying to get off that top turn-buckle.

Eventually, Williams stumbles, losing his footing on the second rope and landing on the canvas. Jack Owyns repositions himself and aims a diving elbow drop, but the smarts of Bryan Williams prevail yet again, as he rolls out of the ring under the bottom rope. Jack looks irritated – but not bested. He simply turns his body and executes the diving elbow drop to the outside instead, landing perfectly on top of Bryan Williams!

MARK DEAN: “Owyns is putting his own body on the line for the sake of advancing here tonight. You have to respect that.”

DARREN NASH: “I get the feeling he’s performing for his daughter. That’s if she’s watching.”

The Villain is first to his feet and hauls Williams up with him, tossing him back inside the ring. Owyns returns to the squared circle and drags Williams to the centre, before signalling his intent to deliver the Tiger Driver ’98, a move he calls ‘The Villain Connection’. Before he can scoop Bryan up, however, Williams writhes free and pushes Owyns towards the ropes forcefully. Jack rebounds and Williams attempts a super kick from out of nowhere! Owyns catches the boot though, preventing the move from being executed. The Villain pushes Bryan Williams backward, before charging at him to deliver a lariat, but the Leviathan ducks it and as Owyns turns around, he eats a super kick!

MARK DEAN: “Gets him the second time! My God what a shot!”

Williams scrambles over Jack’s fallen body and Harry Henderson begins the count. ONE! TWO! TH- Jack Owyns kicks out!

DARREN NASH: “That was a wild back and forth between both guys. They’re going for it.”

Bryan looks out towards the crowd who cheer him on, before signalling for the end. He stands back to a vertical base and drags Jack Owyns up immediately, wasting no time at all to continue to punishment. He hooks the limp arm of the Villain and hoists him up into a brainbuster position, seconds away from unleashing his CTE finisher. However, Owyns uses his superior weight advantage by wriggling down behind Williams.

DARREN NASH: “Ah he’s countered it! Look out!”

Using quickness and instinct alone, Jack hooks Bryan’s arm up behind his own neck and performs his Cut-Throat Saito Suplex! The back of Williams’ skull bounces against the canvas and his eyes roll back into his head.

MARK DEAN: “The Mischief Maker! The Mischief Maker! Surely he’s got him?!”

Owyns makes the cover, prompting Henderson to make the count. ONE! TWO! THREE!

MARK DEAN: “Damn! Talk about abrupt halt!”

DARREN NASH: “I don’t know many people who can kick out of that saito suplex, man. That was lethal!”

The audience are stunned by the sudden end to the fight, as Jack Owyns prevails in a smash mouth encounter. The bell sounds and ‘Intro 2’ by NF blares through the Ballroom.

ANGEL SANTOS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, here is your winner… Jack OWYNS!”

The Villain raises his own hand, avoiding any contact with the senior official. He snarls down towards the fallen body of Bryan Williams, knowing that he’s through to the League of Four at the expense of the Leviathan. Oddball applauds from ringside, looking overjoyed by his client’s victory here tonight.

MARK DEAN: “Nobody had given Owyns a chance heading into this tournament tonight. He wasn’t on anyone’s top four pick list, but he’s just proven everyone wrong.”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah, I mean Bryan Williams is no joke, bro. To knock him out of this tournament like that is a big deal. Owyns is a legitimate threat in this league.”

The ‘League of Four’ graphic flashes on the screen, confirming Jack Owyns’ entry to it.



MARK DEAN: “There you have it, people. Jack Owyns joins Matty Page and Foxy Felix in the Championship Series. Bryan Williams will fight again later for the EOW Internet Championship.”

DARREN NASH: “That match is shaping up, I have to admit. Connor Jacobs, Mysti Savage and Bryan Williams!”

MARK DEAN: “It should be a sick fight, man. The question is, who’ll join ‘em? There’s only two guys left: Finn Whelan and Jason Kaine.”

The Villain saunters back up the entrance ramp towards the staging, being booed away from ringside with Oddball in hot pursuit.

------------------

The cameras arrive backstage and focus in on Ernie Parker, who lingers around the locker room entrance with intrigue. He’s still holding that Livewire Contract as he enters the room slowly.

MARK DEAN: “Check it out, it’s Parker again. I wonder if he’s about to meet the traitor jumping ship to Livewire.”

DARREN NASH: “I hope so. I’m dying to find out who this contract is for.”

Upon entry to the room, Ernie immediately spots Mysti Savage, who is surprised to see him. Despite defeat earlier tonight, her spirits still seem fairly high.

MYSTI SAVAGE: “Ernie! Just the guy I was looking for!”

ERNIE PARKER: “Really?”

He looks puzzled by this. Savage stands up from the steel chair she was sitting on and nods.

MYSTI SAVAGE: “Totally, man. I saw your tweets earlier in the week about you coming here tonight and figured I’d thank you for sticking up for me.”

The ‘Sensational’ one heads to her locker and opens it, looking for something in particular.

MYSTI SAVAGE: “Don’t get me wrong, I also saw the tweets about not wanting me on Livewire…”

Parker chuckles nervously and plays it down.

ERNIE PARKER: “Oh yeah, those. That was just harmless banter, really. I meant nothing by it.

MYSTI SAVAGE: “Dude… Chill.”

She pulls a plate of brownies from her locker and smirks at the Livewire General Manager.

MYSTI SAVAGE: “Like seriously, there’s no hard feelings. I know that deep down you’re a sweet old man. Besides, no offence, but I have no interest in heading to Livewire anyway.”

Before Parker can respond, Savage removes the film from the plate of baked goods and tosses it casually to the ground.

MYSTI SAVAGE: “Anyway… I made you these.”

Parker studies the plate inquisitively.

MYSTI SAVAGE: “Like I say, I knew you were coming here tonight from your tweets and figured I’d run into you at some point. Go ‘head…”

She tempts him by waving the plate at him slightly. He’s reluctant.

ERNIE PARKER: “Perhaps later. I’ve got to find --“

MYSTI SAVAGE: “—Come on, man! They’re awesome, I promise.”

Mysti’s tone is persistent enough where Parker knows he won’t be able to refuse twice. He nods and grabs a brownie, taking a bite.

MYSTI SAVAGE: “At’ta boy. See? How good are they?”

Parker moans a little, really enjoying them.

ERNIE PARKER: “Wow… These are sensational!”

Savage chuckles lightly.

MYSTI SAVAGE: “Everything I do is sensational, Ernie. You should know this.”

The old man scoffs one and licks his fingers, hoovering any residual chocolate up.

ERNIE PARKER: “You’re a minx, you know. I’m supposed to be meeting with someone and you’re proving to be a delicious distraction.”

Savage shakes her head and backs away, innocently.

MYSTI SAVAGE: “Hey, say no more. I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy the brownies, just go easy on them, alright?”

ERNIE PARKER: “Thanks again, my darling.”

Savage exits the locker room, leaving Ernie to pick up a second brownie and nibble away at it. She chuckles some more before leaving the shot.

MARK DEAN: “So we’re still no closer to finding out who the contract is for?”

DARREN NASH: “Well at least we can probably rule Mysti Savage out, given the conversation. Do, uh… Do you think those brownies are kosher?”

MARK DEAN: “From Mysti Savage?!”

DARREN NASH: “You’re right, bro – what am I thinking?!”


‘Exhilarate’ by Born of Osiris plays over the arena's speaker system, followed by strong guitar riffs. Finn Whelan walks out from under the curtain onto the stage, a grin sliding on his face from the crowd's reaction.

MARK DEAN: “This is it, broski. We’re about to find out the final participants for the Championship Series Group Stages and the Redemption Challenge. It’ll either be Jason Kaine or this man right here.”

DARREN NASH: “Two very different styles about to clash here. I couldn’t call it.”

He takes a couple steps forward, just before the ramp, and looks to both out to tonight's attendees on the left, and then to the right. He then pushes his fist to the sky, still grinning as he does so.

ANGEL SANTOS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and it is the fourth and final Championship Series Qualifying match! Introducing first, approaching the ring from Killarney, County Kerry, Ireland, weighing in at one hundred and seventy-four pounds… Finn WHELAN!”

Whelan walks-slash-jogs down the ramp, high-fiving a couple of fans and approaches the ring. Without stopping, he slides in, rising to his knees and pausing for a moment, showboating and looking arrogant as ever. He jumps to his feet and crosses the ring to the bottom right turnbuckle, climbing to the second rope. He jumps back down to the ring floor, crosses diagonally and repeats. Then, as his music fades out, he lands, heading to the corner and leaning back on it, awaiting the arrival of his opponent.

‘Paranoia’ by A Day to Remember blasts its short intro out across the arena, the lights flashing a dark purple and red in time with the music. Suddenly, Jason Kaine storms onto the stage peering out from under the hood of a black hoody under a black biker vest. He snarls at the fans and begins stomping down to the ring.

ANGEL SANTOS: “And his opponent… Approaching the ring from Baltimore, Maryland, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-five pounds… Jason KAINE!”

Reaching the ringside area, Jason puts one knee on the apron and pulls himself up. He takes a few steps back and looks around at the crowd with a grimace. He wipes his feet pops up over the ropes and into the ring. He marches across to the corner and puts his head to the top turnbuckle, tapping his foot a few times before flying up to the second rope and throwing both fists high into the air with a bellow of rage. He slowly brings his arms down in a flexing motion and spits dismissively at the front row. He then hops down and waits in the corner, staring across to Finn.

MARK DEAN: “This guy has been through the ringer over the past week in his personal life, so you have to wonder whether that’ll affect his game here tonight.”

The bell sounds but both fighters are distracted by the arrival of Matthew Page, who stands at the top of the stage and watches them closely.

MARK DEAN: “Uh oh, check it out, bro. Looks like the guys have got some company.”

DARREN NASH: “Damn, I wonder what he’s doing out there? You can scout the competition from backstage. This has gotta be about head games.”

Neither man knows how to receive Page’s arrival, but eventually Jason Kaine focuses on the fight itself, turning Whelan around and slapping the taste out of his mouth in a disrespectful manner. Finn grabs his face and scowls, before unleashing a furious slap of his own, repaying the disrespect. Kaine rubs his jaw and shakes his head before firing another nasty slap across the face of Whelan. Finn reciprocates again, and the audience are cheering for the brutality and intensity of this exchange.

MARK DEAN: “We’ve got ourselves a slap-fest!”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah but this is anything but a cat fight. Those slaps will rock your jaw, my man.”

Jason runs at Whelan and tackles him to the canvas, before throwing some stiff punches at Finn’s skull. The unhinged fighter gets to his feet and pulls Whelan up before Irish Whipping him into the ropes. On the rebound, Whelan counters with a stunning tilt-a-whirl head-scissor take down, turning Jason Kaine inside out with it. The brawler from Baltimore is quick to get back on his feet though, carried by the momentum of the move. He stumbles over to the ropes and Finn Whelan charges at him, taking him down with a running forearm.

Again, Kaine gets back to his feet but looks a little disorientated. The Irish fighter runs at him and clotheslines him over the top rope to the floor outside, as Matthew Page continues to watch on from the top of the ramp.

MARK DEAN: “Whelan taking the fight to the outside here. How wise is that with Page only a few feet away on the staging?”

Whelan rolls out of the ring and runs towards Kaine, leaping up on the guard railing and running along it, before launching himself off towards Jason. Finn takes him down with a scintillating senton bomb; a move that floors both fighters and gets the crowd on their feet. Page feigns an impressed look and slow claps the move, as Whelan returns to his feet and rolls Kaine back into the ring. The Irishman gets back inside the squared circle and stares up towards Page, narrowing his eyes in slight annoyance at his presence.

DARREN NASH: “This kid can fly! That’s all I know!”

MARK DEAN: “Whelan showing exactly what he’s made of in this fight against a larger opponent.”

Whelan turns his focus back to Jason and runs at him, but Kaine scouts it beautifully and tosses Finn over the top rope on the other side of the ring, subjecting Whelan to an ugly landing. Wasting no time at all, Kaine exits the ring and grabs Whelan, before dragging him over to the guard railings. He performs a sickening side Russian leg sweep, sending the back of Finn’s head and neck crashing against the iron railings themselves.

CRUNCH!

Matthew Page grins and winces, mocking the Irishman. James Cortez is counting both men on the outside, reaching five before Jason Kaine rolls Finn Whelan back inside the ring and follows him, in hot pursuit.

MARK DEAN: “Dude, Jason Kaine is just an animal. I watch him and it makes me glad I’m medically retired.”

The fighter from Baltimore stands over his downed opponent and pulls at his hair, before clawing at his face, hooking his nostrils and torqueing backwards. It’s an aggressive, ugly submission hold and James Cortez deems it to be illegal, so begins a warning count.

ONE! … TWO! … THREE! … FOUR!

Jason Kaine releases the grip and thrusts Finn’s skull down into the canvas with disrespect and authority.

DARREN NASH: “Jesus, look at the brutality. What would you even call a move like that?

MARK DEAN: “Painful. You call it painful.”

Kaine grabs at Whelan once again and drags him over to the corner of the ring. Kaine sits himself up on the top turnbuckle and grabs Finn by the neck, hoisting him up and off his feet as if to hang him! Whelan’s legs flail wildly as his larger opponent dominates him in a vicious choke. Again, referee James Cortez begins a warning count.

ONE! … TWO! … THREE! … FOUR!

Kaine pulls Whelan further up and lets go of the choke, before placing his knee on the back of the Irishman’s upper back and neck. Kaine falls forward, drilling Whelan’s face down into the canvas in an unorthodox – yet highly violent – assault.

MARK DEAN: “Man, I’ve never seen anything like this before. Jason Kaine is just butchering his opponent out here. How the hell do you prepare for a style like this?”

Whelan looks to be in bad shape and Kaine capitalises on that with a pinning attempt. James Cortez begins his three count. ONE! TWO! Kick out by Finn.

DARREN NASH: “You just have to keep fighting. I remember how hard that was though when you have a guy as nuts as Kaine just doing all kinds of crazy shit to you.”

Jason shakes his head and drags Finn Whelan back up to his feet once more, Irish Whipping him across the ring towards the corner. Whelan bounces into it, chest first, before stumbling back out from it. Kaine runs at the ropes beside Whelan and ricochets off them, delivering a wicked clothesline that takes the Irishman down once more. Kaine returns to his feet quickly and screams at Whelan to get up. Slowly, but surely, Finn obliges and stands to a vertical base. He’s soon floored again by a running knee lift that drives the wind out of his proverbial sails.

Jason Kaine goes for another pin attempt. ONE! TWO! Another kick out by Whelan.

MARK DEAN: “Lemme tell ya, I feel sorry for anyone who has to fight this Jason Kaine. He’s an animal inside that ring.”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah, no doubt. I don’t think anyone was expecting him to be this vicious tonight.”

Matthew Page looks wholly unimpressed as he watches on from the stage, providing a distraction to both fighters. Kaine grabs Finn Whelan up to his feet once again in this fight, but this time the Irish fighter measures him with a sit-out jaw breaker, jacking the neck of the Baltimore native with vicious precision. Kaine stumbles back against the ring ropes as Whelan gets back to his feet. Jason approaches him once more and Finn connects with an awesome dropkick, taking the bigger man down in the process.

MARK DEAN: “Here we go, Whelan trying to subdue his violent opponent.”

It’s not long before Kaine returns to his feet, but he’s reeling. Finn Whelan throws a few stiff punches to the shaven head of his adversary, before whipping him across the ring into the ropes. Kaine rebounds quickly and runs directly into a wonderful spinning wheel kick from Whelan, flooring him once more. The tenacity of Kaine is there for all to see, as he gets back to his feet with a resilient spring. Finn rocks him with a stinging uppercut that subdues him, before whipping him across the ring to the ropes once more. Kaine reverses it and sends the Irishman rebounding off the ropes, but as Kaine aims a front dropkick to his opponent, Whelan hooks his arms around the ropes, faking the rebound. Kaine lands hard and Whelan remains in control.

DARREN NASH: “Clever by Whelan! Kaine walked right into that one.”

The Irishman runs and delivers a double foot stomp into the chest of his fallen foe, putting a real hurting on him with the move. Whelan scrambles over Kaine and makes a cover.

ONE! TWO! THR-NO! Jason Kaine gets his shoulder up just before the three count.

MARK DEAN: “Gotta give credit to Finn Whelan right now. He’s fighting a straight out brawler with an unorthodox style. That’s a scary prospect for anyone inside the ring. It’d be easy for Whelan to start mirroring that kind of style, or worse, get intimidated by it. He hasn’t done that. He’s sticking to his guns and his game plan right now and it’s working.”

Matthew Page shakes his head towards Whelan, letting him know how unimpressed he is by the display. The Irishman talks some smack towards him, but refuses to take his eyes off the prize. Both men get back to their feet and its Whelan who lunges at Kaine. Jason side steps it and Finn continues through into the corner, but reads it just in time to be able to avoid any mishaps. The smaller fighter leaps up onto the top turn-buckle with cat-like agility, before performing a stunning moonsault onto a standing Jason Kaine, taking him down!

MARK DEAN: “Oh damn! That was incredible!”

The crowd are behind the Irishman as he stumbles backwards and leans against the ropes, studying his foe. Jason Kaine rolls onto all fours and tries to catch his breath. It proves costly, as Whelan runs at him and executes his Curb Stomp!

DARREN NASH: “Seattle Terror! Oh what a game changer this is!”

Kaine’s face smashes violently into the canvas and the crowd pop for the shocking move. Finn Whelan covers his opponent and James Cortez does the honours. ONE! TWO! THREE!

MARK DEAN: “It’s over! Whelan takes this one in a sweet back and forth!”

DARREN NASH: “I tip my hat, man. Whelan got it done even with the distraction of Matty Page and the sick, unorthodox style of his opponent. That takes something special.”

The bell sounds and this one is over. Finn Whelan stares wildly at Matthew Page on the stage, wondering what’s coming next. ‘Exhilarate’ by Born of Osiris roars through the Manhattan Center, as Whelan gets to his feet.

ANGEL SANTOS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, here is your winner… Finn WHELAN!”

Matthew Page says nothing. In fact, he does nothing either; nothing but turn his back and leave the stage. Finn looks puzzled by what he was doing out here in the first place, presumably just playing his own brand of mind games.

MARK DEAN: “So Finn Whelan gets it done here tonight, man! What an awesome display of athleticism from the Irishman. He books his spot in the Championship Series and just like that, we’ve got our final four.”



DARREN NASH: “Yeah, here you can see it. Matthew Page, Felix Hartley, Jack Owyns and Finn Whelan all through to the group stage, where they’ll each face each other once over the next three shows to rack up some points. The top two will advance and compete at EPIC 1 for the EOW Ultimate Championship!”

MARK DEAN: “This is how it should be done! Going through the ultimate endurance test to become the Ultimate Champion. Of course, we’ve got the Redemption Challenge coming up next, dude. Jason Kaine joins Mysti Savage, Bryan Williams and Connor Jacobs in a fatal 4-way!”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah and don’t forget that this is elimination style, so you wanna talk about ultimate endurance tests? They don’t come much tougher than double duty.”

Finn Whelan exits the ring, having done his job successfully tonight. Jason Kaine comes to, knowing that he can’t go anywhere because he’s in action next.



The cameras head backstage and focus on Valentina Lemay, the Victory GM. Her high heels click rhythmically against the concrete flooring as she approaches the locker room. “Black Dog” by Led Zepplin can be heard quite distinctly from behind the door of the changing area, loud enough to confuse Lemay.

MARK DEAN: “There’s our glorious leader! She is smokin’ I swear.”

DARREN NASH: “Why is Led Zep blaring from the Locker Room?”

She hovers outside for a few seconds before entering with caution. Sitting on one of the benches is Ernie Parker. His neck tie has been tied around his forehead, his white collar shirt is discarded on the floor, along with his black shoes; and his bare feet are propped against a steel chair.

MARK DEAN: “Dude… What am I looking at right now?”

DARREN NASH: “I’d say the effects of Mysti Savage’s brownies.”

He throws a lingering, confused stare to Valentina and smiles slowly.

ERNIE PARKER: “heyyyy, mamma.”

A single white plate rests atop his lap, littered with brownie crumbs and nothing more.

ERNIE PARKER: “Are you here about that giant purple lizard in the shower?”

He points towards the shower area. A bunch of used purple towels lie in a heap for the cleaners to collect later.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “Uhhh…”

She looks completely lost, although puts two and two together when she spots the brownie plate.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “Actually, I’m here about the contract you’ve got for one of my fighters.”

Ernie raises his index finger proudly, switched on to the conversation – or so he thinks.

ERNIE PARKER: “Right on, baby! Be an angel and wiggle on over here, would you? You can personally deliver it to them. I haven’t been able to find them and I can’t take my eyes off that lizard. If it gets away, I’ll freak out, maaan.”

It’s clear that Ernie is not on this planet right now and that the effects of whatever Mysti’s magic brownies contained were fast to act. Lemay smirks and obliges. She strides over beside Parker and swipes the contract away from him. In an instant, she studies the content.

Her eyes narrow.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “Oh don’t you worry, Ernie. I’ll see to it that they get what’s coming to them.”

ERNIE PARKER: “Right on, you gorgeous diamond.”

Lemay rolls her eyes and motions to leave, before studying the pile of towels again. She walks over to them and kicks them; a move that freaks Parker out.

ERNIE PARKER: “No! No! get away from him! He’ll wreck you!”

While Ernie proclaims this, he cowers in a small ball, staring with wide, frightened eyes at the towels.

ERNIE PARKER: “Stop moving, man! Stop moving! She didn't mean it! Just be cool... Everybody be cool!”

Lemay shakes her head and folds the contract before leaving Ernie alone in the locker room.

MARK DEAN: “Oh damn! Valentina knows who the contract is for! The jig is up.”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah but I wanna know! Is she going to tell us?!”

MARK DEAN: “Who knows? I’m kinda more worried about old man Parker. The dude might actually have a heart attack in our locker room. That would suck for the cleaners.”



The footage jumps to the parking lot of the Manhattan center, where EOW superstar Jack Owyns leans up against a vehicle. He’s looking at his hand as he rolls a lit cigarette between his thumb and middle finger.

Livewire backstage correspondent Kirk Collins enters into the scene digging into his jacket pocket and pulling out a set of car keys. He stops in his tracks when he notices Jack Owyns leaning up against his vehicle.

JACK OWYNS: “You ever have that something in your fuckin’ life; that just means everything to you – Means the world to you. That something – I don’t know, you just wake up every day, every morning and just want it so bad. It almost just fuckin’ hurts.”

Jack puts the cigarette to his lips and inhales.

JACK OWYNS: “You just do anything to have it.”

Jack exhales a cloud of smoke.

JACK OWYNS: “See, I’m the guy who has gone his entire life never have anything like that. I’ve never had that something you know. I’ve just woken up... went to fight... looking for my war... looking for my end. Until she came into my life… My daughter.”

Kirk Collins looks pale.

JACK OWYNS: “She gave me meaning. She introduced this sort of change to my fuckin’ life you know, but… Everybody just insists on getting in the way of that. People that have no business – They don’t know shit – sticking their fuckin’ nose in it. Which they don’t understand what I would do to have my daughter back.”

Jack flicks the cigarette away and uses his right foot to push himself off the vehicle. He walks towards Kirk who just stands in a frozen stance.

JACK OWYNS: “I’d fight for her…”

Jack Owyns catches Kirk with a right jab to the throat. Kirk drops his car keys and falls down onto his ass, holding his throat.

JACK OWYNS: “and I’d fuckin’ kill for her.”

Jack Owyns connects with a kick to the stunned face of Kirk Collins.



The cameras return to ringside and Bryan Williams is in the ring alongside Jason Kaine. The Redemption Challenge is only seconds away and the participants are making their way out here.

‘99 Problems’ by Jay-Z begins to play throughout the Venue as Connor Jacobs walks out from behind the curtain with a smirk on his face, bobbing his head to the music. He stops at the top of the ramp and drinks in the crowd reaction around him for a few moments, before he poses with his arms stretched out wide for everyone to see. He then lowers his arms and begins walking down the ramp with a swagger in his step as he walks. He winks at some ladies sitting close to the side of the ring and points at them.

ANGEL SANTOS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is the Fatal 4-Way Redemption Challenge and it is for the EOW Internet CHAMPIONSHIP! Approaching the ring from New York City, weighing in at two hundred and five pounds… Connor JACOBS!”

Connor is distracted of course by signing an autograph to one of the ladies on the side, and after he hears his name he points at himself and snaps out of his distraction as he makes his way up the ring steps, leaning on the middle rope with his smirk never leaving his face before he dips into the ring through the ropes and throws his arms in the air once again, posing. He then makes his way over to his corner and begins stretching as his music fades out.

MARK DEAN: “This really is a chance at redemption, dude. These guys have been beaten once tonight but they can still walk out with some gold. They lost a battle but who’ll win the war?”

‘Roxanne’ by Alpha begins to play and the fans erupt with cheers. Mysti Savage steps through the curtains wearing a black velvet hoody. She strides to the ring never losing focus despite the fans going nuts for her.

ANGEL SANTOS: “And their opponent, approaching the ring from Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at one hundred and twenty pounds… Mysti SAVAGE!”

Mysti enters the ring and drops the hood down to her shoulders just before stepping onto the middle ring rope, slapping her shoulder twice, and then holding out her left hand making an "M" with her pinky, ring, and index fingers. She leaps down quickly and removes her hoody completely before awaiting the start of the match.

MARK DEAN: “Who’s your pick, my dude?”

DARREN NASH: “Man, it could go either way here. Jacobs looked hot tonight against Page and he’s had the longest recovery time out of them all. Savage looked great against Foxy Felix. I just don’t know.”

The bell sounds and all four fighters occupy a corner. Jason Kaine looks exhausted from his fight only moments ago with Finn Whelan; a reality that’s not been lost on Bryan Williams. The Leviathan charges towards Kaine and aims to wrestle him over the top rope and eliminate him early.

Mysti Savage has other ideas, however, and as Williams struggles with the defiant Kaine, Savage hooks Bryan’s legs swiftly and throws him over the top rope to the outside! The crowd pop at this shocking elimination, as Savage saves Kaine at the expense of the Leviathan – a tournament favourite at the start of the week.

MARK DEAN: “No way!”

DARREN NASH: “Ah! He’s gone! Williams is outta here thanks to Savage!”

ANGEL SANTOS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, Bryan Williams has been eliminated!”

Mysti and Jason stare each other down, almost trying to work out whether they’ve formed an alliance or simply shared a common goal. While they consider this, Connor Jacobs springs to life, charging at both of them with malicious intent. He aims a double clothesline – one for each of them – but Mysti Savage ducks the one intended for her.

MARK DEAN: “Mysti ducks it!”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah but look at Kaine! He’s finished!”

Jason Kaine is not so lucky, however, and soars over the top rope, landing on the outside with a nasty bump. The crowd cheer this, as Connor Jacobs and Mysti Savage are the only two left standing.

ANGEL SANTOS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, Jason Kaine has been eliminated!”

DARREN NASH: “And another one! Dude, I can’t keep up!”

MARK DEAN: “They’re dropping like flies in this fight! Already we’re down to two. Either Connor Jacobs or Mysti Savage will walk out of the Hammerstein Ballroom with the EOW Internet Championship!”

Mysti jumps on the back of Connor Jacobs and attempts to choke him out, but Jacobs tucks his chin to block it. The ginger New Yorker flails violently, trying to buck Savage off his back, succeeding with a snap mare take down. As soon as she lands in a seated position, Connor fires a penalty kick into her back, the force of which could shatter her spine!

DARREN NASH: “Holy shit! Listen to that impact!”

MARK DEAN: “Oh my God, if Savage can walk after this it’ll be nothing short of a miracle.”

Jacobs grabs the female by her dreads and tosses her over the top rope, but her feet land on the apron, keeping her in the fight. Connor runs at her to knock her off, but she manages to throw a forearm at him, rocking him backwards somewhat. Savage slingshots herself up onto the top rope and leaps forward, delivering a diving hurricanrana that turns the ginger fighter inside out!

MARK DEAN: “Hot damn! Savage is killing it here! She just saved herself in style!”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah I thought that was it a second ago there when she went over the top rope.”

Mysti Savage heaves with fatigue as she ascends the top turn-buckle, looking to execute her “Savagesault” 450 splash. However, Connor Jacobs nips up, sprints towards the corner and hops up onto the top rope to join the female, before unleashing a lethal Belly-to-Belly Superplex! Both bodies smash into the canvas, with Savage taking the worst of it.

MARK DEAN: “Listen to this crowd! Connor Jacobs just counters with ‘The Dead Fish’; a sentence I never in a million years thought I’d be hearing myself saying, bro.”

DARREN NASH: “Mysti looks like a dead fish to me, man. She’s out!”

Savage is reeling somewhat and Connor Jacobs looks to capitalise on that fact. The ginger fighter charges towards his female adversary and delivers a stiff running knee to her face, flooring her in an instant. Savage is sprawled on the canvas and wide open to receive the lionsault that’s coming. Jacobs leaps up and delivers it, but incredibly, Mysti Savage, adjusts her position, lifts her legs and catches him in a triangle choke! The crowd go berserk at this stunning counter and Jacobs is in deep trouble now.

MARK DEAN: “Oh my God! Jacobs delivers ‘The Freak’ but Savage counters with the ‘Sensational Savagery’. Connor’s fight could be over here!

DARREN NASH: “Yeah but Mysti can’t tap him out to win. She has to get him out of the ring via the top rope.”

MARK DEAN: “He’s fading fast though! How difficult will it be for her to toss an unconscious guy out of the ring?”

Jacobs’ arms go limp and Harry Henderson insists that Savage release the hold. Mysti knows full well that she hasn’t won the match yet, but she also knows that she only has to toss her ginger foe over the top rope to be crowned Internet Champion. The self-proclaimed ‘Sensational’ one tries to drag Jacobs up and over, but his weight proves to be something of a challenge to her. Eventually, she takes too long in eliminating him and he begins a sluggish fight back; a tired resistance.

She clubs him with a few forearms anywhere that she can – his neck, his back, his head; anywhere. It subdues the fighter somewhat and she backs away, allowing him to fall to all fours.

MARK DEAN: “That could have been her chance, dude! All she had to do was throw him over the top rope!”

DARREN NASH: “She’s tired, man. They both are. His weight would be tough enough for her to handle, without her exhaustion or the fact that he was out on his feet. The dude was a dead weight.”

Savage whips Jacobs across the ring towards the ropes and waits for the rebound. As soon as it arrives, she catches him and motions to plant him with her patented downward spiral. However, before she can deliver the ‘Mystic Method’, Jacobs counters and grabs her firmly, only to unleash his Exploder Suplex!

MARK DEAN: “The Stage Five Clinger! He’s hit that once already tonight but the referee being down messed it up!”

Mysti goes flying halfway across the ring from the force of the suplex, but rolls back to her feet by the ropes. Connor Jacobs charges towards her and clotheslines her over the top rope. She’s got no answer for it and falls out of the ring, landing on her backside on the protective mats outside.

DARREN NASH: “He’s done it!”

MARK DEAN: “Jacobs eliminates Savage! We’ve got a new champion!”

The bell tolls, bringing an end to this Redemption Challenge. ’99 Problems’ by Jay Z echoes through the Manhattan Center, as referee Harry Henderson hands Connor Jacobs the EOW Internet Championship belt.

ANGEL SANTOS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, here is your winner and the NEW EOW Internet Champion… Connor JACOBS!”

Confetti pours down from the rafters of the Hammerstein Ballroom, as Victory crowns its first ever Champion in Connor Jacobs. The ginger fighter lofts the strap high above his head, parading it proudly for all to see.

MARK DEAN: “Bro that was wild! Connor Jacobs has redeemed himself here tonight, turning defeat into success at the end! We’ve got ourselves an Internet Champion!”

DARREN NASH: “Man, where to begin?! The shock of Bryan Williams being eliminated almost instantly was one thing, but even Jason Kaine going right after him was big. I guess being the last qualifying fight before this match put him at a huge disadvantage in terms of fatigue. Everyone else had time to rest – Jacobs especially!”

MARK DEAN: “What an awesome night, man! It was great calling the action with you and to all watching at home – goodnight!

DARREN NASH: “Peace out!”

The cameras fade out, leaving us with the final images of Connor Jacobs being rained on with confetti, admiring his new Internet Championship.