Victory #2 | Sunday, October 2, 2016

The scene opens with the sound of 'Victory or Die' by Motorhead blasting through the sound system. The crowd cheers as the camera pans around taking it all in. 

MARK DEAN: "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Victory! We're live here from the Manhattan Centre and ready for all the excitement we have scheduled here tonight!"

DARREN NASH: "That's right, man. We've got the first two matches of the Championship Series. By the end of the night we'll know who's managed to secure themselves those crucial three points and made their mark on the Championship table!"

The crowd cheers, showing their excitement for the tournament. 

DARREN NASH: "We've also got our first title defence!"

MARK DEAN: "We do, Connor Jacobs will defend his Internet Championship against Mysti Savage, after she was chosen by all of you to be the first to challenge him. You also chose for it to be a Falls Count Anywhere Match and I can't lie, I'm excited, bro."

DARREN NASH: "It's going to be an awesome match. That's for sure."

The fans cheer once more, keen to see another Internet Championship match. Suddenly, all of the lights go out, leaving the arena in darkness.

The lights go out, leaving the arena in darkness.

MARK DEAN: "What is going on here?"

DARREN NASH: ”We’ve got no lights, people.”

The sound of a woman crying can be heard over the speakers in the Manhattan Center.

QUINTIN BLOOD: "Roxanne, don’t cry. He never loved you. He couldn’t. Why would he? Just look at you. Filthy. Pathetic. Nothing more than a worthless excuse for a human being. But that makes sense; It didn’t work out between you because you’re too much alike."

The lights come on, but a red hue keeps the scene in the center of the ring dim. Quintin Blood stands center circle looking toward the ring entrance stage holding a woman with a black bag over her head.

MARK DEAN: "Is that Roxanne?! Does Quintin Blood have Roxanne?”

DARREN NASH: ”Whether that’s her or not, this is disgusting. Quintin Blood is out here early on playing mind games with Jason Kaine.”

MARK DEAN: "It’ll either prove to be a brilliant tactic or plain stupidity.”

QUINTIN BLOOD: "Jason? Can you hear us, Jason? The love of your life is here waiting for you. But like everything else in your life, you can’t ever get what you want. She left you because you’re worthless. She needed more. She needed something better than you, better than her. How does it feel Jason? To know that tonight is the last night you will ever hear the voice of Roxanne?

MARK DEAN: "What’s he talking about?”

QUINTIN BLOOD: "Say goodbye to Jason, Roxanne. Say goodbye - forever.”

The lights in the arena go out again.

WOMAN: "AAHHHHHH!!!"

As the lights come back on Quintin Blood and the woman with the black bag over her head are gone.

MARK DEAN: "Where did they go? This is not good for Roxanne."

DARREN NASH: "Yeah, well it may not be good for Quintin Blood either when Jason Kaine meets him in the ring later on tonight."


The cameras head backstage where Felix Hartley is seen entering the building, strutting in Manolo Blahnik heels and tight-fitted dark denim jeans that look painted on and a plain black crop top that exposed her mid-rift. In one hand she dragged her suitcase, and with the other she fixated her designer sunglasses on top of her head. Immediately behind her was another one of Victory’s top stars, “Marvelous” Matthew Page, who had held the door open for his redheaded colleague, but catches up to her.

FELIX HARTLEY: ”Think anyone will notice that we’re late?”

Felix had a sinister grin plastered across her bronzed face as she looks over in Matthew’s direction; he pulls out his cell phone to check his messages.

MATTHEW PAGE: ”Aside from eleven text messages from Valentina and four missed calls? No. Besides, it’s not our fault that the show practically counts on us for its success.”

FELIX HARTLEY: ”Ugh. Did she at least send you any nudes?”

MATTHEW PAGE: ”No, and not for lack of trying, either.”

FELIX HARTLEY: ”Honestly? She’s a fucking babe. I’d probably do it with enough vodka in me.”

Felix comes to a sudden halt when they pass a monitor that is currently hyping up the first match on the card: Harper Riley vs. Courtney Leinart. Felix stood there momentarily, watching with a cocked eyebrow and a shit-eating grin with nothing but venom behind it.

MATTHEW PAGE: ”She’s not too fond of you, I hear.”

FELIX HARTLEY: ”Where did she even come from please?”

MATTHEW PAGE: ”Nowhere. She came from nowhere, with no accomplishments or notable accolades, or even a decent rack if we’re honest.”

FELIX HARTLEY: ”She’s lucky I don’t walk my fine ass down that ramp and keep an eye on that match tonight after she ran her mouth last week. ”

MATTHEW PAGE: ”The things I would do to see that fight, though . . .”

FELIX HARTLEY: ”It’d be the best eleven seconds of your life.”

Matthew grins, Felix’s eyes still glued to the promotional video talking up Harper and Courtney.

MATTHEW PAGE: ”Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that today.”

Felix turns around, giving Matthew a playful wink before turning her attention back to the monitor which played a flashback to Harper’s interview with Hope on Victory’s debut show.

FELIX HARTLEY: ”Poor Harper. The useless twat literally thinks that she stands a chance against me meanwhile she’s opening the show while everyone’s still zipping their pants up from a bathroom break. Felix Hartley never opens a show.”

MATTHEW PAGE: ”I’m pretty sure there’s still people finding a parking spot.”

FELIX HARTLEY: ”Her match is like, the one you leave to get popcorn in the middle of, because you know you’re not missing anything monumental. She can tell me how fake I am all she wants, but the difference is that I’m actually in the Ultimate Championship series matches with you guys, while she’s the reason anybody under the age of 10 has a snow-cone in their hands.”

MATTHEW PAGE: ”Her match is the one you would fast-forward through even if you’ve PVR’d the show from home.”

FELIX HARTLEY: ”And then you’re watching it from your couch, and your estranged Aunt Olga calls collect from Russia and you answer it, knowing she’ll talk your ear off for a good 25-30 minutes, but it’s like, the lesser of two evils, you know?”

Felix tilts her head and pouts as if she genuinely felt bad for Harper Riley. She crosses her arms over her chest, still watching the monitor.

FELIX HARTLEY: ”God, how nice is it going to feel to dangle that Ultimate Championship belt in front of her face?”

MATTHEW PAGE: ”Eh, don’t get ahead of yourself, hot stuff.”

He smacks her on the butt before taking both of their suitcases and walking ahead, the scene fading with Felix watching the monitor, a villainous smile on her face...



Pink and blue lights with the words 'FAB-U-LOUS' & 'GLAM-OR-OUS' across the screen. Courtney Leinart comes out onto the entrance stage and struts down the ramp smiling and getting the crowd going.

ANGEL SANTOS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL! Introducing first, approaching the ring from Tampa, Florida, weighing in at one hundred and ten pounds… Courtney LEINART!”

The arena is dark as the beginning of the music starts. A womanly figure appears on the stage as two spotlights circle until settling on the figure. She’s dressed in a gold hooded jacket, the hood covering her head as she looks down at her feet. As the tempo picks up, she flips her head back, flashing a brilliant smile to the fans. She unzips the jacket as she starts walking backward with her hands raised and then spins as she reaches the ring. She grabs the bottom rope and uses it to help herself jump up. She throws off the jacket and then flips herself over the top rope into the ring.

ANGEL SANTOS: “And her opponent, standing in the ring from Toronto, Ontario, Canada… weighing one hundred and twenty pounds… Harper RILEY!”

Courtney Leinart and Harper Riley stand in the ring waiting for the bell to sound. Courtney gives Harper a taunting smile and Harper shakes her head with a smirk on her face. Roland Chang calls for the bell to start the match.

DING

DING

DING

Courtney charges in and the two women collide into a collar elbow tie up. Courtney’s momentum grants her the advantage as she pushes Harper into the corner turnbuckle. Courtney presses Harper against the turnbuckle, causing Harper’s back to arch a bit. Roland Chang waits for a moment, and then comes in to break the two women up as Courtney isn’t doing anything else at the moment.

MARK DEAN: “Feisty start here by these two hell cats, as both of them will be looking to make a great first impression on their debut.”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah, two similar fighters here. Tough to call a winner on paper, which rocks because it means we get to watch them instead.”

Courtney backs off as Chang separates the women in the corner and Courtney gives Harper a smile, holding her arms out to the side to taunt her. Harper shakes her head and the two women begin to circle in the ring. Once again they come together in a collar elbow tie up, this time center ring. Courtney puts a side headlock on Harper, wrenching Harper head. Harper gives a blow to the midsection of Courtney, but the Queen of Staten Island doesn’t let go. Harper uses her legs as a source of strength and pushes Courtney into the ropes and pushes Courtney off her. Courtney hits the ropes across the ring Harper leap frogs her Courtney on the rebound. Courtney ducks under, bounces off the ropes, and Harper Riley’s speed takes Courtney off her feet with an arm drag. Courtney rolls toward a corner and gets to her feet.

Courtney holds her back looking at her opponent as Harper Riley smiles at her taunting, blowing her a case. The male fans cheer and whistle, Courtney looks out at the fans and shakes her head. Roland Chang encourages the two women to get back to it and they circle in the ring once again. Courtney goes for another collar elbow tie up, but Harper drops to a knee and grabs Courtney in a rear waist lock. Courtney tries to fight out of, but seeing Harper isn’t letting go, Courtney gives Harper a back elbow to the left side of Harper’s face.

Leinart turns around and hits Harper with a running lariat. Harper hits the mat hard, momentum bringing her back to her feet only to get knocked back down by another running lariat from the Queen of Staten Island. Courtney stays on Harper, grabbing her by the hair and bringing Harper back up to her feet. She holds onto Harper’s hair as Roland Chang yells at her with a warning to let go of Harper’s hair. She runs with Harper to the corner and smashes Harper’s face into the top turnbuckle.

MARK DEAN: “Ouch! Harper tastes the turn-buckle right there with that shot!”

DARREN NASH: “This is a real vicious side we’re seeing to Courtney Leinart here tonight. I’m surprised!”

Courtney backs away raises her arms into the air, riling up the crowd and taunting Harper Riley. Courtney charges in and hits Harper with a forearm shot in the corner. Harper staggers out of the corner, Courtney scoops her up, and slams her down with a scoop body slam. Courtney goes for the cover. ONE! TWO!

Harper Riley kicks out at two. Courtney gets to her feet and grabs Harper Riley by the head to pull her back up to her feet. She whips Harper into the ropes, goes for a running lariat again, but Harper ducks underneath. Harper stops in her tracks and turns around. Courtney rushes at her again, but Harper leaps into the air and connects with a stiff drop kick. Harper makes the cover. ONE! TWO!

MARK DEAN: “Two count from the drop kick, but it’s bound to wear Courtney down.”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah, exactly. That’s what Harper will be aiming for here.”

Courtney kicks out. Harper grabs Courtney by the left arm, dragging Courtney to her feet only to roll her up into a school boy pin attempt. Before Roland Chang can get into position, Courtney kicks out. The two women get back to their feet simultaneously. Harper rushes Courtney, Courtney goes for a forearm shot that Harper ducks under. Harper leaps using the middle rope to springboard off and hits Courtney with a springboard hurricanrana. Courtney hits the mat flat on her back and begins to roll toward the ropes to exit the ring. Harper is able to grab her before she can, grabbing her legs. Courtney kicks one of Harper’s hands free and then kicks Harper in the face. Harper staggers away, holding a hand over her mouth in pain. Courtney uses the ropes to get to her feet. Courtney runs up behind Harper, clobbering her from behind with a double axe handle to the back. Harper goes face down to the mat. Courtney rolls her over and goes for the cover. ONE! TWO!

MARK DEAN: “Another near fall but a kick out at two. Back and forth here tonight in New York between these two.”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah, exactly what we expected to be honest.”

Harper kicks out and Courtney gets to her feet. Harper sits up holding her head. Courtney starts slapping the side of Harper’s head as she goes back to taunting her opponent. Finally, Courtney grabs Harper around the head, brings her to her feet and goes for a suplex. Harper blocks it, Courtney goes for it again, but Harper blocks once again, and counters with a snap suplex. Harper kips up to her feet and doesn’t waste any time heading toward the corner. She climbs to the top rope.

Harper leaps off the top rope and lands on Courtney with a frog splash. Harper bounces off, holding her stomach, but then goes back to cover Courtney. ONE! TWO! TH--!

MARK DEAN: Aww man, that was close! What an epic frog splash from Harper Riley!”

DARREN NASH: “That move has put many greats away so full credit to Leinart for kicking out right there.”

Courtney kicks out! Harper slaps her hand on the mat, looks at Roland Chang as he shows her two fingers to let her know it was two. She gets to her feet and grabs Courtney by the hair. Courtney gets to her feet and before Harper can react Courtney rams a stiff elbow into Harper’s ribs. Courtney holding her own ribs from the frogsplash unloads with a knife edge chop to Harper with her left hand. She follows up with a forearm to the face with her right, and kicks Harper in the midsection. Harper bent over from the kick is left open for a spike ddt. Harper’s head hits the mat hard. Courtney goes for the cover. ONE! TWO! THR--!

Harper kicks out at the last second. Courtney looks at Roland Chang, arguing that his count was too slow. She holds up three fingers and gets to her feet. He shakes his head and she slaps her hands together as she continues to argue with him. He moves away from her and Courtney turns her attention back to Harper Riley. Harper is struggling to get to her feet and as she does, Harper staggers backward until she’s leaning against the ropes. Courtney goes running at her in attempt to clothesline her opponent over the top rope, but Harper ducks pulling the top rope down and Courtney Leinart goes tumbling over the ropes to the outside. Roland Chang comes over to Harper, giving her a warning about pulling the ropes down. He then turns his attention to Courtney Leinart who hit the floor hard and leans through the ropes to get a signal that she’s okay. He starts the 10 count.

1

2

3

Courtney slowly tries to get to her feet, and Harper runs to the opposite side of the ring and bounces off the ropes.

4

5

Coming back she goes air born as she leaps over the top rope onto Courtney Leinart on the outside. Roland Chang didn’t see Harper and had almost gotten ran over. Upset he yells down at Harper and Courtney and starts the count back over.

1

2

3

4

Harper gets to her feet and goes to grab Courtney by the head.

5

6

Harper goes to roll Courtney back into the ring, but Courtney reverses and sends Harper back first into the ring apron.

7

Courtney hurries to slide into the ring under the bottom rope.

8

Harper turns around grabbing on to the bottom rope and pulls herself back up onto the apron.

9

Courtney goes to grab Harper to bring her back into the ring her own way, but Harper blocks Courtney from grabbing onto her and clobbers her in the face with a stiff right hand. Courtney goes to return the favor, but Harper blocks it and hits Courtney again. Harper quickly ducks through the middle and top rope and then uses the middle rope to springboard at Courtney, catching the Queen of Staten Island by the head and hitting a tornado DDT on Leinart. Harper gets to her feet and roars out.

MARK DEAN: “Tornado DDT! That’ll call a stop to things in an instant!”

DARREN NASH: “She’s fired up right here, bro! Beginning of the end!”

Harper gets Leinart to her feet and whips her into the corner hard. Courtney staggers forward into Harper Riley’s version of a spinning heel kick called Harper’s Kickstarter Project. She covers Leinart. ONE! TWO! THR--!

MARK DEAN: “Wait! Chang has stopped the count!”

DARREN NASH: “Check the ropes.”

Leinart’s foot is just barely in reach of the ropes and Roland Chang catches it and stops the count! Harper can’t believe it and shows her frustration. She gets to her feet, grabs Leinart by the hair and drags Leinart to the center of the ring. She points to the top rope and heads to the corner.

Harper gets to the top rope and goes for The Gold Standard, corkscrew shooting star press. Leinart moves out of the way and Harper hits nothing but the mat. Leinart isn’t able to take advantage of the mishap right away, but begins to roll back to Harper. She drapes her arm over Harper. Roland Chang slides into position. ONE! TWO! THRE-!

MARK DEAN: “Kick out! Incredibly, Riley gets her shoulder up!”

DARREN NASH: “That Gold Standard would have ended this one! She’s so lucky to be still in this after missing it!”

No! Harper is able to just barely get the shoulder up in time. Courtney can’t believe it. She holds her head in disbelief and gets to her feet. She waits for Harper to get up as she begins to measure Harper up for something big.

Harper finally gets up and turns around, but as Courtney goes to kick Harper in the gut to set up the Make Over, her version of the Bella Buster, Harper catches Courtney’s foot. She gives Courtney a dragon screw leg take down and as soon as Courtney hits the mat, Harper gets to her feet and heads for the corner right away. She climbs up as Courtney slowly gets to her feet. As Courtney stands and turns around, Harper leaps into the air, flipping forward with the Upper-Crust.

MARK DEAN: “Upper Crust! The Molly-Go-Round of Harper Riley has surely killed this tie?!”

DARREN NASH: “That was epic!”

She hits it and hooks Courtney’s legs for the cover. ONE! TWO! THREE!

DING

DING

DING

ANGEL SANTOS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, here is your winner… Harper RILEY!”

MARK DEAN: “That’s a win on her debut, Harper’s got to be happy with that.”

DARREN NASH: “Judging by the grin on her face I’d say you’re right!”

Suddenly, Harper’s music stops and ‘Flawless’ by Beyonce starts to come through the sound system.

DARREN NASH: “I wonder what Miss Lemay is coming out here for?”

MARK DEAN: “Well, Harper did win the fan vote earlier on today to be the next contender for the Internet Championship. The boss could be coming out to talk about that.”

VALENTINA LEMAY: “Congratulations on your win here tonight, Miss Riley.”

Harper turns her attention to Valentina, looking rather smug that her win has caught the attention of the general manager.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “Though, you can wipe that insincere smile off of your face now.”

Harper looks perturbed by Valentina’s comment, which also causes a gasp from the audience.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “You don’t have to pretend to look so confused, sweetie. It’s well known that on the last show I saw a contract that had been drawn up by Ernie; A contract that showed one of my roster members was planning on jumping ship to Livewire; A contract that had your name at the bottom of it.”

The fans begin to boo, unhappy at the idea of Harper’s betrayal.

MARK DEAN: “Can you believe that?! Harper was the one planning on leaving Victory!”

DARREN NASH: “I would love to say I’m surprised, man. But Ernie trying to get his hands on a little perky blonde isn’t really out of character for him, is it?”

Harper Riley looks around at the crowd as she throws her arms out, giving the impression she has no idea what Valentina is talking about.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “Act innocent all you want, we both know the truth. If you’re that interested in jumping to Livewire, you won’t want a shot at Victory’s Internet Championship, will you?

DARREN NASH: “Is Valentina about to do what I think she is?”

VALENTINA LEMAY: “Count yourself out of that match on Victory #3. The fans voted for you when they thought you were a loyal member of Victory. Now?”

Valentina pauses to allow the crowds eruption of boos to fill the arena.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “You’re the last person they want to see in that match.”

Harper Riley is enraged by what’s just happened and shouts down to Valentina but the crowd drowns her out. Lemay smirks to Harper before making her way behind the curtain as ‘Flawless’ plays her out.

MARK DEAN: "So I wonder who that means will be facing the Internet Champion on the next Victory?"

DARREN NASH: "Who knows, bro. But it's Valentina, she'll have a plan."



The footage jumps backstage. Where we find Livewire’s backstage correspondent Kirk Collins mingling with fellow employees.

BACKSTAGE WORKER: “So let me get this straight. You think… Jack Owyns, the villain Jack Owyns. Is going to walk down to that ring and apologize… to you? The same man; that assaulted you two weeks ago to this day?”

Kirk Collins is sporting a smug smile.

KIRK COLLINS: “Yes.”

BACKSTAGE WORKER: “Get real. I hate to break it to you man, but—“

The backstage work cannot contain himself; he breaks out into a laugh.

BACKSTAGE WORKER: “That isn’t—“

More laughter.

BACKSTAGE WORKER: “—Ever going to happen man. Not even in your sweetest dreams dude.”

KIRK COLLINS: “It will happen. It’s going to happen; you know why? Because behind the bad guy persona, I hate the world act… lays a spot for his daughter Mackenzie and he’d do anything to get her back in his life. That I know for a fact.”

BACKSTAGE WORKER: “I just don’t know man.”

KIRK COLLINS: “But want to know what’s funny?”

BACKSTAGE WORKER: “What?”

Kirk Collins smug smile grows even wider.

KIRK COLLINS: “He thinks, even if he apologizes for his actions; that Deanna’s going to let him into Mackenzie life again; which she has no plans of ever letting him come near Mackenzie ever again. He's a loose cannon. A hazard to her safety. Paperwork is already sent. It's been filed.”

Kirk Collins now laughs.

KIRK COLLINS: “So, he’s going to apologize and then find out, it was all for nothing. He isn’t ever going to see his daughter again. He will apologize to the man; which will be his daughter’s future daddy.”

Kirk Collins snickers and pats the backstage worker on the chest.

KIRK COLLINS: “I have to get ready though, but make sure, to round everybody up to watch this go down tonight. Watch him apologize.”

Kirk walks off, as the backstage worker walks off in the other direction.

A man, who had his back to the conversation the entire time slowly turns around. It is none other than Jack Owyns manager Oddball, who has a donut shoved in his mouth, eye’s wide open, and looks to be in a state of shock. He manages to bite down on the donut; which the rest falls and rolls down his shirt. Oddball runs off.



Shifting our attention to the locker room area, we are taken back to the locker room of one half of tonight’s main event – “Marvelous” Matthew Page. The man taking part in the Championship Series sits calmly as he casually looks up at the person pacing back and forth in front of him, the Chief of Staff of Marvelous Incorporated: Benjamin Newsom, decked out in a rather sleek and colorful suit.

MARVELOUS MATTHEW PAGE: “You seem more nervous about tonight than I am, Benny.”

BENJAMIN NEWSOM: “Of course I am. It’s a big night for the brand – and I’m not talkin’ about Victory. I’m talking about Marvelous Incorporated. It’s gonna be ‘uuuuge. Epic, even.”

MARVELOUS MATTHEW PAGE: “Man, we’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about. I go out there in the main event, like I should be, and kick the scrawny ass of Finn Whelan.”

BENJAMIN NEWSOM: “Somehow, he’s even scrawnier than me.”

MARVELOUS MATTHEW PAGE: “And that’s a feat in and of itself. But look…”

Page gets up from his seat to stand in front of Benjamin, rubbing his hands together.

MARVELOUS MATTHEW PAGE: “Tonight is the night I take one giant step closer to that Ultimate Championship, and you know what’ll happen? The entire landscape of Victory, and EOW as a whole, will change because the guy not one person wants to be champion will be in the driver’s seat. I’ll be able to control my own destiny, and that my diminutive friend, is the best feeling in the world.”

BENJAMIN NEWSOM: “The kind of money that’ll be made, man…I talked to a guy and he said huge gains will be guaranteed. Stocks will be on the rise with you as Ultimate Champion. You’ll have your face on everything. Because you deserve it.”

MARVELOUS MATTHEW PAGE: “After tonight? One down…two to go before I’m Ultimate Champ.”

MARK DEAN: “There’s some extreme confidence in the ‘Marvelous’ Matthew Page camp.”

DARREN NASH: “Well, obviously they have every right to feel confident. He’s one of the betting favorites to walk out of Epic as the first Ultimate Champion. And after his ‘win at all cost’ victory against Connor Jacobs, it’s no secret that he’s willing to do whatever it takes.”



“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: "Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, 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.

MARK DEAN: “You know this fight is personal, bro. Blood made it personal when he brought Kaine’s ex-wife into it.”

DARREN NASH: “Oh no doubt, dude. No doubt. I mean this fight was already bound to be vicious because of their similar, aggressive styles but now? I’ll be surprised if they don’t try and kill each other here tonight.”

The lights in the arena go out as a red hue smoke begins to rise from beneath the ring entrance stage. After a few moments 'The Black Ones' by Abdullah begins to play. As the lyrics start, Quintin Blood walks out onto the ring entrance stage.

ANGEL SANTOS: “And his opponent… approaching the ring from Reno, Nevada, weighing in at two hundred and seventy pounds… Quintin BLOOD!”

Quintin Blood tilts his head and looks at Santos as his name is announced. He stares at the ring announcer, an evil glare in his eyes. He approaches the ring and slowly begins to crawl into the ring under the bottom rope, his eyes never leaving Santos. He doesn't stand but crawls over to them like a predator stalking his prey and in a rush gets to his feet and charges at Santos, chasing her out of the ring.

MARK DEAN: “Look out! This guy is certifiably nuts, my dude.”

Quintin Blood licks his lips like a lion after missing out on a good meal. The music stops as the lights come on with Quintin Blood still staring at Angel Santos.

DARREN NASH: “He’s too busy eye-fucking the shit out of Angel Santos to realise that Jason Kaine is staring holes right through him. The dude looks ready to kill!”

The bell sounds and both men charge towards each other, intent on inflicting damage early on. Quintin Blood drives his knee into the gut of Jason Kaine, catching him off guard for a brief moment, before applying a tight, wrenching side head-lock in the follow up. Blood grits his teeth and squeezes the skull of his bald opponent, aiming to restrict the circulation as best as he can.

Blood wrenches again and again, tightening the hold each time, but eventually Kaine manages to fight his way out of it, simply by pushing Quintin away from him, towards the ropes. It’s a forceful shove and Blood has no alternative but to go with the momentum, running and rebounding off the ropes. He speeds back to Jason and catches him with a firm shoulder block, taking the smaller fighter down. Quintin’s 45-pound weight advantage, coupled with his strength advantage proves to be too much for Kaine, who crashes back-first into the canvas.

MARK DEAN: “It’s all one-way traffic in the early goings here, man. Jason Kaine is learning that he can’t rag doll Quintin Blood the same way he rag dolled Finn Whelan last week. There’s nearly 100 pounds of difference between the two opponents.”

DARREN NASH: “Bro, I’d be so pissed right now if I was Jason Kaine. First this psycho punks me by using my ex-wife, now he’s punking me in the ring.”

Within seconds, Jason Kaine is back on his feet, cradling his neck from the impact of the swift shoulder block. He shakes his head, showing defiance towards his opponent. Blood, on the other hand, screams at Kaine to “bring his best”. It’s a challenge that Jason seems to accept, as he lashes out with a low kick, connecting just above the groin, much to the concern of the referee. Quintin Blood grunts and doubles over, allowing Kaine to issue a snap-mare take down, flipping the bigger man over and onto his backside.

Jason Kaine runs away from his seated foe, ricocheting off the ring ropes and returning to Blood, before delivering a wild front dropkick to the back of Quintin’s skull. The move rocks the bigger fighter and the sound of boot on skull reverberates through the Hammerstein Ballroom, much to the delight of the crowd.

DARREN NASH: "That'll leave a mark, man! Vicious dropkick to the back of Quintin Blood's big bald dome."

MARK DEAN: "The fact that these guys have such similar styles means they'll have to switch it up to surprise the opponent. That was a nice move right there from Kaine."

It’s early on in the fight, so much so that there’s plenty of gas in Blood’s tank for him to roll onto all fours and push himself up. As he does this, Kaine charges towards him with wicked intent. Quintin reads it perfectly and counters any potential onslaught with a tricky drop toe hold. It sends Kaine hurtling down to the canvas, with his jaw bouncing unceremoniously off the bottom rope. His neck jerks violently at the impact and the bump is ugly.

MARK DEAN: "Ah, Jesus! That was tough to watch! he's lucky not to have snapped his neck there."

Jason clutches at his mouth following the collision with the rope but before he’s afforded the time to recover, Blood hauls him up by the neck and positions him for a double under-hook DDT. Kaine wriggles out of the hold and slips out of the ring quickly, evading any attack. The crowd boo the move but it’s of little consequence to Jason, who wants to take the necessary time to recover from the rope shot. Quintin Blood glares at his foe from the ring, calling for him to get back inside.

Eventually, Jason Kaine hops up onto the ring apron, suggesting that he’s ready to resume. However, Blood steams towards him like a big freight train and drives his knee into the side of Kaine’s bald skull, forcing the smaller fighter to fall from the apron onto the protective mats on the outside. It’s such a forceful impact that Kaine narrowly avoids colliding with the guard rail, much to his relief. Blood, however, seems far from content at that and hops through the ropes to join his adversary.

Quintin stomps away at Kaine a few times, before hauling him up and screaming at him: “This is for Whelan!” What follows is a sickening side Russian Leg Sweep, sending Kaine’s back, neck and skull hurtling into the guard railing! The crowd heave a collective, sympathetic groan for Jason, who suffers the agony of a move he’s no stranger to inflicting on others.

MARK DEAN: “Jesus, dude! That Side Russian Leg Sweep again! We saw Kaine use the move on the last show against Finn Whelan and it nearly ended the Irishman’s night.”

DARREN NASH: “I guess that’s why Blood said that this is for Whelan. Damn, bro – the guy’s done his homework at least!”

After several subdued seconds for both men, it’s Quintin Blood who returns to his feet, dragging Jason Kaine up with him. He rolls Kaine back into the ring and follows in hot pursuit, before hauling him up to a vertical base, backing him up into the corner of the ring and unloading a barrage of sharp, painful knife-edge chops.

“Wooo!” is all you can hear from the fans in New York, who repeat the time-honoured traditional chant with every successful chop that lands. Quintin’s stinging blows break some blood vessels on the surface of Jason’s chest, judging by the bright red glow on Kaine’s pectorals.

MARK DEAN: "God damn, Jason's chest is redder than the Victory logo right now with these stinging chops!"

DARREN NASH: "It's just a nasty move to have to suffer through, it really is. It's a lingering pain."

After several agonising chops, Blood proceeds – or at least attempts – to Irish Whip Kaine across the ring to the opposite corner. Jason scouts the intentions, however, and thanks to some quick footwork and body weight adjustments, counters, sending Quintin into the corner instead. As soon as Blood careens into the turn-buckle pads in the corner, he turns around and is struck viciously by his foe, as Jason Kaine drives his shoulder into the gut of the bigger fighter. The move drives the wind out of Quintin’s sails and he falls to his knees, gasping for air. Much like Kaine moments before, Blood decides to tuck tail and roll out of the ring for some recovery time. He flops to the mats on the outside, clutching at his stomach.

This time it’s Jason Kaine who shouts a series of expletives to Blood from the ring, only to join him on the outside when it becomes apparent that Quintin is downed and not getting up any time soon. Kaine stomps away on his fallen foe, connecting with some stiff kicks to Blood’s skull, neck, chest, stomach – the attack is frenzied and relentless.

Having subdued the big man with the onslaught of stomps and kicks, Kaine grabs him up and collars him by the scruff of his neck. Blood is in no man’s land right now, eyes rolling aimlessly. Jason drives Quintin head first into the edge of the ring apron, much to the delight of the crowd. He follows that up with a second head shot against the apron… and then a third… and a fourth. He aims for a fifth, but Blood locks his arms out and places his palms on the apron, preventing it from happening. Kaine – never one to be outdone – punches Blood in the ribs instead, before rolling him back into the ring.

MARK DEAN: "These heads shots are dangerous, vicious and malicious - which is exactly what you'd expect from a guy like Jason Kaine."

DARREN NASH: "He's turning this wrestling match into a fight right here."

Quintin Blood hasn’t quite managed to regulate his breathing since the shoulder to the gut and that reality hasn’t been helped any by the punch to the side of the rib cage. He’s doubled over, clutching at his side, as Kaine arrives with a clubbing axe handle smash to the back of his neck. It rocks Blood but doesn’t drop him. Jason takes a few steps backward and then lunges forth, directing a stiff kick to Quintin’s head. This forces Blood to stumble back towards the corner of the ring, where he collapses in a seated position.

Jason Kaine grits his teeth and sizes Quintin Blood up, knowing he has the fighter exactly where he wants him… or so he thinks. As soon as he approaches to haul Blood up, the big man pushes him backwards and executes a sudden – yet devastating – super kick! The move comes from out of absolutely nowhere and floors Kaine as a result. Blood wastes little time in trying to end the fight, as he covers his foe.

ONE! TWO! Jason Kaine kicks out at two, keeping the fight alive!

MARK DEAN: "Close from the Super kick! That's put plenty of people away over the years!"

DARREN NASH: "Yeah, no doubt about it, full credit to Kaine for kicking out."

Several seconds pass with both men grounded, but they slowly return to their feet simultaneously, with Jason Kaine looking a little all over the place. He stumbles towards Blood and gets floored with a double leg take down, but Quintin holds on to Kaine’s legs. He adjusts his positioning slightly before falling backwards, catapulting Jason Kaine in a sling-shot like fashion. Kaine goes head first into the top turn-buckle; his bald head bouncing off the cushioning like a soccer ball. The force of the move makes Kaine a little weak at the knees and light on his feet, as Blood mounts the second ropes on either side of the ring post and unloads with a series of closed-fist punches from the corner.

One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine!

Blood pauses, with the audience producing a collective “ohhhhhhhhhh” chant in anticipation…

Ten! Quintin fires the tenth strike, nailing Jason Kaine right between the eyes. Blood steps back down onto the canvas and Kaine staggers out towards him, so Quintin grabs him by the wrist and throws him aggressively towards the opposite corner. The whip is so forceful that Jason bounces against the turn-buckles and rebounds backwards. As he does this, Quintin Blood runs towards the ropes parallel to his foe and rebounds, so that they meet in the center of the ring upon collision. Lariat!

MARK DEAN: "Goodnight! That'll take your head off your shoulders!"

The move spins Jason Kaine inside out and he lands hard on his neck. Once again, Blood attempts a cover. ONE! TWO! Kick out again from Jason Kaine!

MARK DEAN: "Kick out at two! Incredible!"

DARREN NASH: "Yeah but how smart was that? You're not recovering from a lariat like that, bro."

Quintin shakes his head, irritated by the defiance of his adversary here tonight. He gets to his feet only moments before Kaine does, and when Jason turns to face him, Blood fires another stiff knee into the side of Jason’s head. Yet again, Kaine falls to the mat and clutches his skull, as his foe seems hell-bent on cracking it like an egg. Blood roars and grabs Kaine back to his feet, before whipping him across the ring to the corner once again – giving chase as he does. The second Kaine collides with the turn-buckles in the corner, Blood is there to follow up with a body splash, sandwiching Jason between thin cushioning and two hundred and seventy pounds of brute force. Quintin hooks Kaine’s head and runs out of the corner, as if to attempt a running bulldog. When he jumps, however, Jason shoves him aggressively, sending him soaring through the air to the other side of the ring.

Blood looks taken aback by this but when he charges back towards Kaine to regain control, Jason scouts it and delivers his ‘Mark of Kaine’ sky-high sit-out spinebuster! The move is sudden and unexpected, rocking Blood.

Kaine covers. ONE! TWO! Quintin Blood gets his shoulder off the mat before the three.

MARK DEAN: "Oh man that was close! The Mark of Kaine almost brought an end to this one!"

DARREN NASH: "If you're Kaine, you gotta be wondering what it takes to put this freak down?"

Jason Kaine gets to his feet quickly, stalking Quintin Blood who is a little slower at returning to a vertical base. Kaine signals for his cobra clutch submission hold, a move he calls ‘Stranglehold’ that would almost certainly put an end to this encounter. As soon as Blood gets to his feet, Kaine lunges – but Quintin fires an elbow into Jason’s gut, stopping him in his tracks.

With Kaine doubled over, Blood thrusts the bald fighter’s head between his thighs and signals for his ‘Ode to Joy’ sit-out powerbomb. He attempts to deliver it, but Kaine struggles against it, making the lift too difficult. Kaine counters into a big back body drop, but Blood lands on his feet with the flip! Jason turns around and Quintin Blood aims a clothesline to the smaller fighter, but Kaine ducks under the arm, steps behind Quintin and locks in the ‘Stranglehold’ cobra clutch!

MARK DEAN: "Stranglehold! Stranglehold! This is it!"

DARREN NASH: "Nah, bro! Blood is staying on his feet!"

Quintin Blood winces and chokes in pain, but he struggles against it, refusing to go down. Kaine wraps both his legs around Blood in a body scissor fashion, locking the move in tight. Quintin Blood falls back and the rest is history. He has no choice but to tap out – and tap he does.

MARK DEAN: “It’s over! Quintin Blood has no choice but to tap right there! That was locked in tight!”

The bell sounds and brings a stop to this fight, but Jason Kaine has no intention of relinquishing the choke.

ANGEL SANTOS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, here is your winner as a result of a submission… Jason KAINE!”

This garners a positive response from the crowd, but they’re more excited by the fact that Kaine simply won’t let go of the hold. Quintin Blood turns purple and the referee screams for back up, finding himself unable to prize the fighters apart.

Suddenly, ‘Flawless’ by Beyonce blasts through the arena for the second time tonight. It is enough to distract Jason for long enough that he loosens his grip, allowing Quintin to quickly pull himself away from Kaine. He manages a sly grin while catching his breath. Jason scowls at Valentina before directing his attention back to Quintin.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “Ah, ah, ah, Jason. I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You and I have something to discuss.”

MARK DEAN: “Uh oh, looks like Lemay isn’t happy with Jason.”

DARREN NASH: “Can you blame her? Have you seen the things he’s been saying the last few days?”

VALENTINA LEMAY: “You’ve been very vocal this week about both me and Victory. You’ve made no secret of the fact you have no respect for me and consider yourself an ‘Ernie Parker guy’. Well, that is considered gross misconduct, Mr. Kaine, and that means you can say goodbye to that win bonus you just earned yourself. You may have also seen that earlier tonight I took Harper Riley out of the Internet Championship Match on Victory #3. Do you know who was next in line on the online poll? You, Jason. You would have had a second chance at getting your hands on that Internet Title. Just like Harper, the fans and I haven't taken too kindly to your remarks. There will not be an Internet Championship Match next week, however, we are going to have a match between you and Harper Riley. That match's stipulation will be decide by the fans surrounding you and those at home.”

Kaine fumes, annoyed that Valentina interrupted his payback on Quintin, was taking away the bonus he had just earned and was also taking away his opportunity at a championship. Quintin chooses this moment to leave the ring, but Kaine spots him and heads to chase after him.

VALENTINA LEMAY: “Also, if you lay another finger on him tonight, it’ll be more than just a win bonus and title shot you’ll lose. In fact, I’m going to provide a little help in making sure you get out of the building without sabotaging yourself any further.

Just at that moment, six security men come out from behind the curtain and head towards the ring. Valentina smirks and heads backstage. The security team usher Kaine out of the ring and guide him up the ramp, making sure to avoid Quintin in the process.

MARK DEAN: “Well that’s Jason been told, bro.”

DARREN NASH: “Absolutely. You don’t mess with the boss lady! I can't wait to see what the fans decide to put these two through on the next show!”



The cameras head backstage, focusing in on Mysti Savage who is walking past vending machines and checking the cabinets in the lounge. She throws boxes of things she doesn't want like plastic wear, napkins, and coffee filters.

MYSTI SAVAGE: "If I were Honey Buns or a catering service where would I hide?"

Mysti ponders while her eyes scan the room for something tasty to eat.

MYSTI SAVAGE: "So where is the catering tonight?"

MARK DEAN: "It would appear that the competitor of our next match is dying of starvation."

DARREN NASH: "I think they call that the munchies in urban pop culture."

Mysti opens the fridge and finds a large cake with a few slices missing. She licks her lips and removes it from the rack and places it on the counter top nearby.

MYSTI SAVAGE: "Oh my god, yes! Chocolate cake!"

Mysti removes the circular cake from the big white box and cuts herself a large slice. She groans with amazement and joy. Hope Gordon appears behind her and taps her on the shoulder. Mysti jumps, frightened and knocks the entire cake onto the floor.

MYSTI SAVAGE: "Come on Hope! I was trying to be sneaky."

Savage pouts while Hope Gordon smiles with a microphone in hand.

HOPE GORDON: "Mysti Savage, we are moments away from another big moment for you in your EOW career. It began with you proving to be a threat to Felix Hartley in the Lethal Lottery and then only falling just shy of claiming the Internet Championship, and tonight is YOUR true night of redemption. What emotions are going through your mind right now?"

Mysti looks at the cake on the floor and licks frosting from her fingertip before looking directly into the camera.

MYSTI SAVAGE: "Do you see the cake? It wasn't mine. But there it was, just in front of me. I saw it, and I claimed it. Tonight... opposite me is Connor Jacobs and he's the protector of the Internet Championship just like the refrigerator is the protector of this very cake. That Internet Championship is mine. And I won't be getting just a taste of it. I'm gonna devour the whole damn thing. This is my moment Hope! This is my moment EOW! Tonight, Victory finds out who the best on the roster really is. It's the Sunday thru Saturday night Sensation. It's me.. M-Y-S-T....I"

Mysti leans down and grabs part of the cake from off the floor and offers it to Hope. Hope declines and Mysti chuckles a little before throwing the cake into the lens. The cameras fade out as a hand holding a rag comes in and smears the cake on the lens.



“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: “Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and it is for the EOW Internet Championship! Introducing the challenger… 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.

MARK DEAN: “She looks ready, Darren.”

DARREN NASH: “She’s been talking that smack all week long. She better back it up here tonight.”

She leaps down quickly and removes her hoody completely before awaiting the start of the match.

“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. The EOW Internet Championship attached firmly to his waist. He looks down at it and rubs it a bit, before taking it off of his waist and giving it a kiss, talking to it as he raises it up and starts walking down the ramp. Ignoring the roar of the crowd as he holds his Title like it's a gift from god.

ANGEL SANTOS: “And her opponent… approaching the ring from Brooklyn, New York… weighing in at two hundred and five pounds… he is your EOW Internet Champion! Connor JACOBS!”

Connor climbs the ring steps and quickly slides in between the middle ropes holding The Internet Championship high above his head with his right arm. He taunts the crowd a bit pointing at himself as the Best as he finds some pretty ladies sitting ringside to wink at and blow a kiss. Mouthing that his victory would be for them before heading to his side of the ring, dropping his belt in the corner to do his pre match stretches as the music fades out.

The referee signals for the bell and following the three-strike chime, this one is underway.

MARK DEAN: “The fans voted for this fight so it’ll be sweet to see how good it is.”

DARREN NASH: “It’s a repeat of the final two on the last show. This is like a chance at redemption from the chance at redemption, bro. It’s all about the redemption right now.”

The Champion rotates and loosens his wrists and neck, limbering up as he circles the challenger, who looks fired up and ready for this one. The pair come together, locking horns as you’d expect. What you don’t expect, however, is for Mysti Savage to be able to hang tough in the collar-and-elbow tie up with a man with the size and strength advantage of Connor Jacobs, but that’s exactly what happens.

The rivals jostle and jock for an offensive position, but it never comes; both of them grappling into the corner and struggling with each other. After several seconds of stale-mate, the referee Roland Chang slips his body between them, pushing them apart. “Let’s go, Mysti!” chants reverberate through the Hammerstein Ballroom, instantly followed by “Mysti Sucks!” from the section of patriotic New Yorkers who want to see their hometown boy do his thing.

MARK DEAN: “Mixed crowd here tonight for this one. Savage is usually boosted by a strong support but not at the moment.”

DARREN NASH: “New York love their own, dude. Jacobs is out here representing tonight.”

The fighters circle again before coming together in a second lock up, with Savage reading the movement brilliantly. She uses her quick foot work to move behind Jacobs with an arm lock, wrenching at his wrist and forearm to inflict as much punishment as possible. The Champion winces from the pain shooting up his arm but is fresh enough to attempt a break up, simply by firing a back elbow towards Mysti’s skull. The little dread-locked fighter ducks the shot though, before pushing Connor towards the ropes with as much force as she can muster. The Champion goes hurtling into them and rebounds, with Savage catching him with a perfect dropkick, the likes of which sends him spilling through the ropes to the ring apron outside.

MARK DEAN: “Oh snap! She caught Jacobs right on the button with that dropkick!”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah man and it shows. Check him out. His eyes are all over the place. Dude doesn’t know where he is right now.”

Jacobs falls to the thin protective matting on the ground, choosing to take his time to recuperate and get his head back in the game early on. It’s a luxury that Mysti Savage refuses to afford him though, as she charges at the corner of the ring, leaps up on to the top turn-buckle and throws herself through the air, landing a perfect cross body that drops both of them! “That was awesome!” chants echo through the arena, as Savage quickly gets to her feet.

MARK DEAN: “The fans are marking out for a match they booked. But in all fairness, that WAS an awesome cross body from Mysti Savage to the Champion on the outside.”

DARREN NASH: “It’s been all Mysti here so far. I’m surprised by that.”

She rolls the Champion back into the ring and hauls herself up onto the ring apron, before ascending the top turn-buckle once more, stalking her prey and getting her balance on point. As soon as Connor Jacobs stands to his feet, Savage strikes – aiming a sickening missile dropkick in his direction…

Miss! Connor Jacobs side steps it and slaps the ankles of his adversary away, scowling in frustration at the opening stages of this fight. Mysti crashes and burns, landing hard on the canvas. The sheer momentum of the fall bounces her back to a vertical base, but she’s stooped over, clutching at her stomach. Jacobs pushes her by the ass, sending her into the ring ropes and when she rebounds, he repays the dropkick from moments earlier, connecting with her jaw! Savage hits the deck like a ton of bricks and in an instant the tides of the fight have turned.

MARK DEAN: “Anything you can do, I can do better, says Connor Jacobs!”

DARREN NASH: “You can tell he’s pissed off about this start, man. He doesn’t like this chick so the last thing he wants is to be schooled by her from the bell.”

Mysti has the wherewithal to roll out of the ring, simply to buy herself a few extra seconds of breathing space. The Champion gets to his feet and spots this, so heads directly for the ring ropes. Pulling back on them with all he’s got, Jacobs slingshots himself up and over the ropes, but Savage rolls back into the ring desperately, avoiding any collision. The result is bad for the Champion, who crash lands on the outside, moaning in pain and clutching at his knee.

Mysti gets to her feet and coaxes Jacobs up with some goading, shouting at him to “get his ass up!” in no uncertain terms. While Connor is slow to comply; comply he does, by getting back to his feet. During that time, Savage runs towards the opposite set of ropes and ricochets off them, returning towards Connor at break-neck speed. She launches herself through the middle ropes with a suicide dive but just as she leaves her feet, Jacobs catches her with a forearm smash! It’s an ugly strike and Savage’s body folds and crumples like discarded paper. She lands back inside the ring, clutching her head and kicking her legs from the pain.

MARK DEAN: “Oh my God! What a shot from Jacobs! He just about knocked the chick’s head off with that forearm!”

DARREN NASH: “Dude! That was ugly! Like, that was Quintin Blood ugly.”

The Champion takes his time – knowing he’s got that option – to walk around the ringside area, trying to apply weight onto his knee following the awkward landing. He shakes it off and eventually rolls back into the ring, before taking a swipe at Savage, booting her in the skull. This is followed by a fistful of dreadlocks, simply to drag her to her feet and over to the corner of the ring. Once there, Jacobs unloads on Mysti’s chest, lighting it up like a joint with some vicious knife-edge chops. The obligatory crowd “Wooo!” chants follow, as the Champion aims to put a hurting on the number one contender.

MARK DEAN: “These knife-edge chops are just straight up nasty. They’ll leave a mark on you.”

DARREN NASH: “Not to mention the way those bad boys catch your breath! You get rocked with too many of those and your breathing is finished. You’ll gas out in no time at all. Savage has to be careful of that.”

The shots seemingly wake Mysti up, who fights back by sliding out of the corner and elbowing Jacobs into it. She then delivers some chops of her own – the open palm, slapping variety. The stinging, smacking sound of skin on skin slices through the ringside area, and it’s enough to bring tears to a glass eye. Several chops later and Connor fights back, pushing her and throwing her back into the corner. He then dishes out another series of knife-edge chops and before you know it, there’s a chop-off taking place in this title fight.

Eventually, Savage breaks the cycle with a forearm counter, rocking Jacobs and sending him stumbling back a few steps. She grabs his wrist and whips him back into the corner, before running away towards the opposite set of turn-buckles. When she returns, charging full pelt towards the Champion, she leaps forth and tries a body splash, but Connor moves out of the way, forcing Savage to connect with nothing but stuffing in the corner.

MARK DEAN: “Nobody home on that body splash!”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah but look out, Jacobs is sizing her up right here.”

She rebounds and walks into a flurry of strikes from Jacobs – a side kick, a gut punch, a second kick to the rib cage and a right hook to the jaw. All of them land and Jacobs tries to end the series with a spinning back fist. As he takes aim, Savage ducks and leaps up onto his shoulders, adopting a crucifix position. She tries to plant him with a driver, but Jacobs is just too big and too defiant for it to work. The Champion shakes her further up his shoulders and hooks her head, before throwing all his weight into bucking her off him. The resulting move is a front ‘attitude adjustment’ but Savage’s neck lands on Jacobs’ knee! It’s an unorthodox, sickening move that keeps Savage grounded.

The Champion covers and Roland Chang makes the count. ONE! TWO! Somehow, Mysti gets her shoulder up off the canvas.

MARK DEAN: “Savage stays in this one with a kick out at two! Bro, what the hell would you even call that move right there? That was crazy!”

DARREN NASH: “It was like a snap-mare take down over the shoulder into a neck breaker on the knee. Totally unorthodox by the Champ right here, but that’s what you need to keep the opponent on her toes.”

Jacobs is first to his feet and he drags Savage up with him, placing her in a power-bomb position – her head nestled between his thighs. He stares out to the crowd and shouts “What up, New York?!” much to their delight, before attempting a running power-bomb. Before he can get her all the way up, Savage wriggles and struggles against the movement and does just enough to force Jacobs to stumble over to the ropes, where she grabs them and forces a break. Connor looks irked by the counter, so tosses her up and over the top rope, prompting her to land feet first on the edge of the ring apron. The Champion fires a forearm towards his foe and Savage drops to the floor on the outside.

For the second time in the fight, Connor Jacobs tugs on the ropes, before launching himself over them with a slingshot cross body. This time, Savage can’t avoid it and it lands perfectly, taking both fighters to the floor on the outside.

MARK DEAN: “He doesn’t miss twice! The ginger ninja lands the cross body onto the outside and it’s like a car wreck out there!”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah, but fair play to the guy for even trying that a second time. You miss the first one and it can knock your confidence for real.”

“Vic-to-ry! Vic-to-ry! Vic-to-ry!” chants begin rippling through the audience, as the fans are totally buying into the back and forth in this title fight. The Champion clutches at his ribs though, having taken a knock during the landing of the cross body. Roland Chang counts both fighters out…

One… Two… Three… Four… Five…. Six…

Connor returns to his feet, albeit in visible pain, and drags Savage up, rolling her back into the ring at the count of eight. Jacobs hops up onto the ring apron, stopping the count altogether. He clutches at the ropes and stalks his foe, waiting for her to get back up onto her feet. Eventually, she does and Jacobs leaps up onto the top rope in a springboard motion, as it to attempt another scintillating aerial offense. Savage throws herself at him though, punching him in mid-air and taking him off balance! Connor Jacobs lands gut first on the ropes and bounces backwards, landing hard on the outside once again.

MARK DEAN: “Hot damn! That was a nasty landing! Jacobs could be hurt here!”

DARREN NASH: “Did you see the way he bounced off the ropes gut-first like that?! That’ll crush your insides in no time at all. Don’t get it twisted, folks – those ropes hurt.”

Roland Chang urges Mysti Savage to stay in the ring while he makes the count out. However, he only reaches a two before Jacobs is back on his feet on the outside. Savage heads directly for the top rope but the Champion rolls back into the ring quickly, taking her off-guard. In the time it takes for Savage to adjust her body position on that top turn-buckle, Jacobs has already run at her, leapt up and caught her in an embrace, before unleashing his ‘Dead Fish’ avalanche belly-to-belly suplex!

The “Holy shit!” chants consume the Hammerstein Ballroom, as Jacobs heads for another pin attempt on the challenger. ONE! TWO! Savage kicks out!

MARK DEAN: “I thought that was all! That top rope belly to belly is a death sentence on fights, man! I don’t know how Savage kicked out of it.”

DARREN NASH: “These fans are jumping off right now. You’ll only get this kind of action right here on Victory!”

Connor Jacobs heaves with exhaustion and shakes his head, signalling that he’s looking to end this one now. He gets up and drags Savage up with him, before clutching her in an Exploder Suplex position. The crowd know that the ‘Stage Five Clinger’ is imminent, or at least that’s what they assume. Mysti Savage has other ideas and struggles out of the hold, before countering expertly with a hurricanrana. It turns Connor Jacobs inside out and sends him crawling into the corner of the ring, clutching his neck.

MARK DEAN: “Savage is hanging on with all she’s got! She’s throwing anything at the Champion to keep the fight alive. That’s what this strap means to these fighters.”

DARREN NASH: “She has to stay on him though! She won’t win any titles by getting her breath back, bro.”

Savage takes a few moments – arguably too much time – to recover in the opposite corner, before running at the Champion with everything she’s got. Another body splash is attempted and, once again, another body splash is thwarted, this time by the boot of Jacobs, who out-stretches his right leg and block the assault. She stumbles back and grabs at her gut, obviously winded from the shot. Connor Jacobs explodes out of the corner and heads for the ropes, rebounding towards Savage with evil intentions. Savage drives her knee – in a desperate fashion – into the midsection of the Champion, subduing him for the moment. She follows that up by hooking his neck and throwing herself backwards, executing a sickening downward spiral – a move she calls the ‘Mystic Method’!

She scrambles over her fallen foe and hooks the legs. Chang makes the count. ONE! TWO! THR-NO! Connor Jacobs kicks out and remains champion, if only for a few more minutes anyway.

MARK DEAN: “Half a second away from crowning a new champ, man! That was a little too close for comfort if you’re a Connor Jacobs fan.”

DARREN NASH: “Props to him for kicking out of it. His head bounced off the mat like a rubber ball right there. That should have been lights out.”

The crowd are gripped by this encounter, evident by how vocal they are. Savage heaves and gets back to her feet, making a bee line for the top turn-buckle once more in this match. Connor Jacobs is still grounded from the Mystic Method and showing no immediate signs of movement. Mysti signals for a spin with her hands and the crowd get off their seats in anticipation…

The 450-degree splash lands! The Savagesault connects, driving every ounce of life right out of the Internet Champion. She hooks his legs – both of them – and makes that all-important cover.

ONE! TWO! THR-NO! Once again, Connor Jacobs keeps the fight alive with a kick out!

MARK DEAN: “Just a two and a half! God damn, what a move! That Savagesault is a thing of beauty!”

DARREN NASH: “No doubt! But it didn’t get it done here tonight. Not yet anyway!”

Mysti Savage licks her lips and shakes her head in a combination of disbelief and frustration. She grits her teeth and grabs Jacobs by the head, striking him with head-butt after head-butt, as if she’s just snapped. Following the flurry, she stands to her feet and looks out at the crowd.

“One more!” she screams, before heading for the top turn-buckle again. Jacobs is arguably a little too large for her to deliver her ‘Mystic Malice’ full nelson face-buster, so she’s playing to her strengths as best as she can.

MARK DEAN: “She’s going upstairs again. Surely a second one will kill this tie?!”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah, there’s no doubt. Jacobs is done. He won’t have it in him to kick out again.”

She stands up top and flips Connor Jacobs off passionately, before delivering a second Savagesault 450-degree splash. The Champion gets his knees up though! He counters the move!

MARK DEAN: “Connor with the knees! He’s countered it!”

DARREN NASH: “Oh man, I felt that from up here! Mysti’s stomach just got turned to mush!”

Mysti bounces up, squeals and clutches at her stomach, totally exposing herself to any sort of attack. Jacobs strikes fast, heading for her legs and locking in ‘The Screamer’ Lucky 13 submission lock!

MARK DEAN: “Wait! The Screamer! The Screamer, dude! Just like that he’s turned it around!”

DARREN NASH: “Look at the positioning! She’s got nowhere to go, bro! She’s gotta tap!”

Mysti clasps her dreadlocks and winces, desperately trying to hang in there. She reaches out for the ropes but her own positioning for splash was perfect – dead centre in the ring, so she’s nowhere near any lifeline. With no alternative but to tap or snap, she does the smart thing and taps out.

MARK DEAN: “Mysti taps! It’s over!”

DARREN NASH: “Damn, in an instant the tables can turn! That’s the wrestling business, my dude! What a god damn clinic right there!”

The bell tolls and the result receives a mixed reaction from the crowd in New York, with the Mysti Savage fans distraught and the Connor Jacobs fans elated. One thing that unites every fan, however, is the fact that they’re on their feet after that encounter.

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

The ginger playboy gets to his feet and receives his title belt from Roland Chang. He clutches it tight to his chest, having earned it all over again in a thrilling defence.

MARK DEAN: “That’s got to be a relief to Connor Jacobs. Nobody wants to lose their first defence and he’s survived it here tonight. What a performance from both these fighters! If I could stand and applaud, I totally would!”

DARREN NASH: “No doubt about it! The fan reaction says it all! Call the cops, ladies and gentlemen because these two mother duckers just stole the whole damn show!”



The cameras focus in on Felix Hartley who is now dressed in her black latex ring gear. She has one leg hoisted up on an equipment box, and the cheers in the venue get louder as she bends over slightly to lace up her boots.

HOPE GORDON: ”Miss Hartley!”

Felix immediately freezes in her tracks, cringing at the girlishly bubbly voice of Victory’s backstage correspondent, Hope Gordon, who came rushing over to the vivacious redhead, almost out of breath as she caught up to her.

HOPE GORDON: ”Any word on why you were late?“

FELIX HARTLEY: ”Is that what you said to your tits last week?”

Felix smirks, maintaining eye contact with Hope as she tugs on the laces to her boot.

HOPE GORDON: ”You seem very relaxed for somebody who has a match with a guy like Jack Owyns coming up. Shouldn’t you be warming up a bit?“

FELIX HARTLEY: ”Shouldn’t you be celebrating the fact that you’ve beaten teen pregnancy? Seriously, are you an intern? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before in my life.”

HOPE GORDON: ”I’m Hope Gordon, I’m the backstage correspondent for Vic—“

FELIX HARTLEY: ”Shut your mouth for a second.”

Felix comes to a stop, throwing her hand up directly in Hope’s face.

FELIX HARTLEY: ”One – if I wanted your autobiography, I would have gone to the nearest Amazon and purchased the audiobook so I could listen to it in my car on the drive to Whofuckingcaresville. Second, if you’re going to ask me about my match with Jack Owyns, ask me something that matters. Such as, will I laugh at the fact that Jack lost his daughter and his opportunity at the Ultimate Championship tonight? My answer is yes, yes I will.”

Felix ties the lace to her boot before turning her back to Hope momentarily, giving attention to the mirror in front of her and tousling her hair in her reflection.

HOPE GORDON: ”Actually, I was going to ask you why you were so focused on Harper Riley earlier when you have a match with Jack Owyns tonight.“

FELIX HARTLEY: ”Honey, any one of these shit-eating morons would be lucky to be the object of my focus. When you start shit with me, I finish it. Harper Riley wanted to run her mouth off at me last week and that was a very poor decision on her part.”

HOPE GORDON: ”No offense Miss Hartley, and I’m no expert, but Jack Owyns seems like a way bigger challenge for you right now . . . “

FELIX HARTLEY: ”No fucking shit you’re not an expert. When you’re Felix Hartley, you’re the top tier bitch, and everybody else is below you. Jack Owyns, Harper Riley, Finn Whelan . . . all beneath me. And Matt Page can definitely be underneath me. Challenge wise? I can handle Jack Owyns on my worst night, go on to wrestle Finn and Matthew Page, and for the final dish of my four course meal, destroy that twat Harper in one bite. The way I see it, the more drama, the better. The more people that hate me, the better. I’m the money on this brand, and they all want the air time. Any other input you feel like offering?”

HOPE GORDON: ”Well I just think—“

Hope goes to interject, but Felix silences her by placing her hand on Hope’s face and gently pushing backward, as if to tell Hope to scram. The camera zooms in on Hope’s face, mouth agape as if she couldn’t believe what just happened as the only sound that could be heard was Felix’s Manolo’s clicking down the hallway.

DARREN NASH: ”I think we know where the “Sass” in Felix’s “Ass, Class & Sass” tagline comes from. . . “

MARK DEAN: ”If the camera man was smart, we’d see where the “Ass” in her tagline comes from, too . . . “



The cameras head backstage and catch up with one of the latest additions to the Victory roster, the Staten Island Brute, Drake Hardin. The cameras follow as he walks through the back practically pulling his girlfriend, Cassandra Anderson, along by her wrist, not caring if she keeps up or if he has to drag her should she fall.

MARK DEAN: "Drake is the kind of dude that you cross the street to get away from when you see him coming in your direction."

DARREN NASH: "You're not wrong there, man. He's better known for spending time in a prison cell than a wrestling ring. But, the boss has given him the chance so he must have something he can bring to the ring."

MARK DEAN: "Absolutely. He looks like he's out for trouble tonight though, bro."

Right on cue, Hardin seems to have found that trouble when he stops in his tracks spotting someone with their back to him a little ahead. Hardin grins from ear to ear, shaking his head slowly from side to side.

DRAKE HARDIN: "I would recognize that ass anywhere. Who brought you in off the corner Courty?"

Leinart turns around after hearing someone say something to her. She's wearing cut-off jean shorts, a white crop top, and of course a leopard print bandana while her boyfriend is standing behind her.

COURTNEY LEINART: "Oh lord. Not you again Hardin. Haven't you caused enough trouble for me? I'm here to make a name for myself something you seem to have trouble with. I mean, you are kind of dragging your poor girlfriend around. Why are you here?"

Hardin smirks, walking forward towards Courtney and her Boyfriend.

DRAKE HARDIN: "First off Darlin', don't worry about what I am doing to my property."

Hardin shoots a sideways glance at Cassandra.

DRAKE HARDIN: "Second, I am here because EOW obviously wanted some talent on their Roster, and damn, before I arrived they must have been scraping the bottom of the barrel if you are here. Come give Drake a little kiss for old times sake, Courty."

Hardin continues to flash a cheesy smirk at Courtney. Leinart backs away with a disgusted look.

COURTNEY LEINART: "Darlin? Haven't we been through this already? You don't get to call me darlin' anymore. And the bottom of the barrel? Oh puh-lease, I'll have you know, I'm the best thing in all of New York City as well as Staten Island, so move along and ewww no, I won't give you a little kiss."

Leinart puts her hand in his face, Hardin slaps her hand away and shoves Courtney's back against the wall by her throat.

DRAKE HARDIN: "You are forgetting who the hell I am!! I have had you, and if I still want you I will take it. As a matter of fact, I will take anything you got anytime I want it...Darlin'"

Leinart looks at him in disgust as he has her up against the wall.

COURTNEY LEINART: "In case you haven't realized Hardin, I'm not that little girl from Staten Island anymore, so NO you will not have anything from me whenever you damn well please."

Leinart knees him in the private area and stares at him.

COURTNEY LEINART: "Learn some damn respect for women."

Courtney storms off with her boyfriend as Cassandra tries to check on her man. Drake shoves her way.

DRAKE HARDIN: "LEAVE ME ALONE!!"

Hardin takes several deep breaths as he glares down the hallway in the direction that Courtney went.

DRAKE HARDIN: "You will pay for that Bitch...Oh will you pay"



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

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

His smile remains intact. 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.

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 titantrons. 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 his 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 while she waits for the bell.

MARK DEAN: “So this one kicks off the first of two Championship Series fights tonight and boy am I hyped!”

DARREN NASH: “No doubt! This is how you crown a true Ultimate Champion. Take notes, Livewire!”

The bell sounds and both fighters eyeball each other from opposite ends of the ring. Harry Henderson steps back and shouts “fight!” enabling them to get it on.

Felix Hartley smirks seductively, knowing that she can have a lot of fun here with The Villain. She blows him a kiss and steps forward, but Jack simply snarls, running at her with evil intent. Her face drops, as Owyns clubs her square across the jaw with a punch, followed by another, and another, knocking her off her feet against the ropes. Hartley is shocked and appalled by the behaviour of her foe, covering her gorgeous face from any further damage.

MARK DEAN: “Jesus, dude! Jack Owyns is unleashing right now!”

DARREN NASH: “Damn, that’s rough. There’s no sex appeal in the world strong enough to stop those right fists from smarting.”

Her defensive stance only enables Jack Owyns to scoop her up and deliver a painful back-breaker, driving her lower spine onto his knee in an excruciating manner. Felix wails and clutches at her back, swiftly realising that any strategy she had for seduction is out the window. Owyns drags her up like a battered wife and drives his knee into her perfect abdomen, before whipping her across the ring towards the corner with all the strength he can muster. Hartley crashes into the turn-buckles and falls forward, flat on her face. She’s being utterly dominated in a scene that’s quite difficult to watch.

MARK DEAN: “Oh man, this is ugly – and that’s something I never thought I’d say where Felix Hartley is concerned. She’s just being dominated early on here.”

DARREN NASH: “You’d think that the idea of being dominated by Jack Owyns would be something that would appeal to her, man… but looking at it now? I’m not so sure.”

The Villain looks out to ringside and smirks at Oddball, who claps joyfully at what he witnesses. Harry Henderson checks on Felix, making sure she’s in a position to continue, but Owyns doesn’t care either way. He screams “Get the fuck up, whore!” and the audience don’t like it, no matter how much of a whore they think Hartley is. Slowly, but surely, ‘Ass, Class & Sass’ gets to her feet, but she’s still in the corner of the ring. Owyns roars and charges at her, aiming a body splash in her direction. The red-head’s quick thinking prevails and she holds onto the ropes with both hands, enabling her to lift both feet and swipe at the skull of her oncoming foe.

MARK DEAN: “A counter by Hartley! She gets her feet up and rocks Jack’s jaw.”

DARREN NASH: “Thank God for that, bro. I was starting to worry that we were just watching a domestic abuse re-enactment and not a wrestling match. I can’t stomach that shit.”

This subdues Jack, but only for a few seconds, before he repeats the charge, aiming for a second attempt. Again, Hartley counters with a double kick to the head, sending Owyns stumbling backwards once more. The Villain tries for a third time but only gets the same outcome – two boot soles to the face. Felix runs at him as he stumbles back and leaps forth, attempting a tilt-a-whirl headscissor attack. Owyns scouts it though and grabs her in a side walk slam position, before putting her back on her feet and slapping her square across the chest! The snapping sound echoes through the Hammerstein Ballroom and Felix wails in pain, clutching at her chest while backed up in the corner once more.

MARK DEAN: “And just when you think Felix is on the offense, she’s taken back to square one again. Thunderous back breaker by Owyns right there.”

DARREN NASH: “It looked like she was going for “Ass, Class & Sass” right there, dude. If she’d have hit that this early, this fight would have a very different tone right now.”

Owyns grits his teeth and mutters some expletives into Hartley’s ear, before whipping her across the ring to the opposite corner. Again, the force is severe, as even Felix’s attempt to counter it with a front flip on arrival proves ineffective and results in her following through, so that she’s perched on top of the turn-buckle. Jack runs at her and clubs her back with a forearm smash, before grabbing her arms and turning so that their backs are facing. He attempts a crucifix power-bomb, but Hartley wraps her ankle around the ring post outside, blocking the move. Jack pulls and yanks at her with unbridled aggression, eventually prizing her free. He attempts the crucifix power-bomb but as he hoists her into the air, Felix counters with a wonderful hurricanrana!

MARK DEAN: “What a reversal by Felix! She’s got to out-fox him because she can’t go toe to toe with his power.”

DARREN NASH: “Hartley isn’t used to getting in the ring with dudes, so she’s kinda learning as she goes here.”

The Villain is disorientated from the move but does get to his feet quickly, running aimlessly towards Hartley. Felix scouts this with a quick drop toe hold, taking Owyns down into the canvas with force. She’s frantic in her speed – knowing she simply has to be – and grabs Jack’s arm, before stepping over it, rolling forward and cradling him up into a pin!

Harry Henderson leaps to action. ONE! TWO! Owyns kicks out and looks pissed off to have been pinned by Felix.

MARK DEAN: “Sneaky pin attempt there by Felix! Why the Hell not?! She’s got to wear him down or tire him out any way she knows how!”

DARREN NASH: “Well… maybe not ANY way, bro… this isn’t that kind of show.”

Hartley is quick to her feet, as is Owyns. The sexy red head runs at Jack and ducks a clothesline attempt from the Villain, before rebounding off the ropes and leaping up, stunning him with a wheelbarrow bulldog! She plants the big, thick skull of Jack Owyns firmly into the mat and pins him again, knowing she’ll either beat him or wear him down in the process.

ONE! TWO! Another kick out by Jack, who trembles with rage.

MARK DEAN: “Look at Jack Owyns right now, dude! He’s about to blow a fuse right here.”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah, he looks frustrated by Felix and that’s exactly what she needs to exploit and stay on top of.”

Felix Hartley is on her feet in no time at all, trying to dictate the pace of the fight, although Owyns is no slow-poke inside the ring. The Villain gets up and Hartley attempts an Irish Whip; a move that Jack counters and reverses. Felix ricochets off the ropes but manages to baseball side her way under the legs of The Villain, motioning behind him quickly. Owyns turns around and Hartley leaps up onto him, as if to attempt a monkey flip. Jack has the strength and size to catch her and hold her in the position though, which is exactly what he does, before sitting her on the top rope. She looks surprised by this, as Jack slaps her chest once more, sending her backwards. As she tumbles to the outside, her legs catch Owyns neck and she delivers a hurricanrana on her way down, taking The Villain with her.

MARK DEAN: “There she goes again with another quick counter! This is exactly what she’s going to have to make the most of in this fight! Wicked stuff!”

DARREN NASH: “That was superfast, bro. I don’t think Owyns knows where he’s at right now.”

While Owyns crash lands to the floor outside, Felix manages to stay on the edge of the ring apron; a position that enables her to roll back into the ring. She looks a little frantic at the moment but refuses to give her big, male counterpart any room to breathe. Ass, Class & Sass runs towards the ropes and springboards over the top, delivering a full rotation senton that lands perfectly on Jack Owyns, just as he was getting to his feet. The move takes both fighters down.

Felix gets up and hauls the dead weight of Owyns with her – albeit with tremendous effort and exertion. She rolls him back into the ring, follows closely behind and covers him once more.

ONE! TWO! TH- Again, Jack Owyns kicks out, although the pace of the fight is slowing a little and The Villain looks less aggrieved to have been pinned.

MARK DEAN: “It’s all Felix here and that makes things far more interesting! We’ve got a fight on our hands.”

DARREN NASH: “Owyns is all out at sea against high flying adversaries and she knows that. That has to be her game plan at this point.”

Hartley gets up and, for the first time since the bell rang, her confidence looks to be returning. She saunters around the ring, flaunting her assets, before spotting that Owyns has got to one knee. She approaches him and fires a vicious bitch slap square across his face, rocking him so hard that he’ll be hearing bells for a few minutes, undoubtedly. The red head fires a second bitch slap, and then a third, followed by a hip bump to his jaw. It’s a move she caps off with a slap to her left butt cheek, getting flirtatious again.

MARK DEAN: “Oh man, there’s that sass we saw plenty of on the last show when she fought Mysti Savage.”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah, she’s starting to forget about being socked in the mouth earlier on tonight and the confidence is back. She needs to be careful though.”

The sizzling red head runs towards the ropes and rebounds off them with lightning pace, heading directly for Owyns, who – at the same time – gets to his feet. He explodes to a vertical base, pushing her skyward much to the surprise of the foxy female, and on her way down he connects with a beautiful uppercut! Hartley’s eyes glaze over and she lands on the canvas, seemingly out cold.

Naturally, The Villain covers his female foe, grinding his forearm against her face in a disrespectful manner. ONE! TWO! Felix kicks out with all her might, refusing to lay down.

MARK DEAN: “Holy crap! What an uppercut! I’m not sure how Hartley kicked out of that one!”

DARREN NASH: “Bro, I don’t even think she knows. That’s instinct alone!”

Jack screams and gets back on to his feet, hauling Felix up by the hair in the process. He whips her across to the ropes and, on the rebound, launches her into the air with a wild back body drop!

CRASH!

Hartley lands hard and it’s hard not to sympathise with her. She squeals in agony and crawls over – slowly, it must be said – to the corner of the ring, desperately seeking some respite. With all the strength she can muster, Felix hauls herself up and leans, chest-first, against the corner, exposing her back to her opponent. Owyns approaches and drives his knee into her left kidney, again and again, before switching to her right kidney, striking with sickening, reckless abandon.

MARK DEAN: “Oh my God, this is sickening. Kidney strikes with the knees are enough to have you pissing blood for a month.”

DARREN NASH: “He’s wearing her down and punishing her. It’s difficult to watch though.”

The Villain steps back and points directly at her, before charging towards Hartley and driving his knee directly into her neck with a Muay Thai flying knee! “Holy shit!” chants echo through the Ballroom, as Hartley falls backwards, lifeless and beaten.

Owyns makes the cover. ONE! TWO! THR-No! Somehow, some way, Felix Hartley kicks out!

MARK DEAN: “I have never, in all my years of being a wrestler or calling the sport, seen anything like that! A flying knee to the back of the neck! That’s got to be the most dangerous move anyone can do to another person.”

DARREN NASH: “And yet she kicked out! Felix Hartley is tough as dollar steak, my dude! No doubt about it!”

Jack grins and chuckles as he stares down at Felix, shouting “Alright. Alright, I see how it is!” at her defiance. He motions to pick her up but, incredibly, Hartley springs to life with a small package roll up!

ONE! TWO! TH-Kick out from Owyns!

MARK DEAN: “How close was that?! Hartley almost stole it!”

DARREN NASH: “Owyns didn’t know a damn thing about it either!”

Both fighters roll to their feet and Hartley strikes first, running on empty it has to be said. She drives her boot into the gut of Owyns, before hooking his arm and attempting to deliver her shoulder jawbreaker! Her ‘Lock Jaw’ move is executed up until the drop, when Owyns uses his size and weight advantage to suspend her in mid-air, refusing to fall.

MARK DEAN: “Felix going for the Lock Jaw but Owyns won’t budge! She can’t drill it home!”

DARREN NASH: “This looks bad. Hartley’s got nowhere to go right now!”

Felix flails and hangs for a split second, before Owyns throws her back with force, motioning behind her, grabbing her arm across her own throat and setting her up for the cut-throat saito suplex! Felix is planted firmly into the canvas and Jack covers.

ONE! TWO! THREE!

MARK DEAN: “The Mischief Maker ends it! It’s over! Owyns has done it!”

DARREN NASH: “That’s a HUGE victory for Owyns here tonight, man! Felix Hartley was being touted as one of the favourites in this thing and now she’s on the back foot!”

The bell sounds and the audience are stunned by the end to this fight, as Owyns grins and raises his own hand in victory.

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

Oddball claps frantically on the outside, as referee Harry Henderson checks on the condition of Felix Hartley, whose neck took a licking throughout this fight.

MARK DEAN: “So it’s Jack Owyns who scores those vital three points here tonight! What a start for the Villain, bro.”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah that’s exactly how you want to start this league – three points and one step closer to the gold.”







When the feed returns to the arena, Kirk Collins is standing inside the ring holding a microphone, close to his chest. He repeatedly taps the speaker against his chest, as the fans volume begins to dwindle down. He raises the microphone close to his mouth.

KIRK COLLINS: “It’s no secret to why I’m out here. It’s why you have all tuned into Victory in the first place. Am I right? To witness the infamous Jack Owyns, the villain, apologize for his actions two weeks ago. After he left me in a critical state.”

Kirk Collins faces towards the Victory entrance.

KIRK COLLINS: “So, no point in dragging this out Jack. We might as well just get it over and done with, so Jack—”

Kirk Collins didn’t have to wait long, as Jack Owyns emerged from behind the black curtain and wasted no time making it down to the ring. He slides under the bottom rope and hurries to his feet.

KIRK COLLINS: “Now remember—“

CRACK!

Jack's fist, connects with Kirk Collins face. The microphone goes flying from his hand, and Kirk drops onto his ass.

Security comes bolting out of the backstage, thru the entrance opening.

Jack hovers overtop of Kirk Collins, grabbing him by the hair as his fist repeatedly smashes into Kirk Collins face, over and over again. The security team enters the ring, as they manage to pull Jack Owyns off of Kirk Collins and detain him.

Kirk Collins tries to hide it, but smiles a very bloody looking smile before the footage cuts out to the next scene.

MARK DEAN: "I don't think any of us can be surprised that Kirk didn't get his apology tonight."

DARREN NASH: "You're right, but that's not good news for Jack. Kirk said he'd be pressing charges, and by the look on his face, he's more than happy to."

MARK DEAN: "It's certainly been a dramatic night for Owyns, no doubt about that. Next up is the other Championship Series match of the night between Finn Whelan and Matthew Page!"



“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. 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 a Championship Series first round match, scheduled for ONE FALL! Introducing first, approaching the ring from Killarney, County Kerry, Ireland, weighing one hundred and seventy-four pounds… Finn WHELAN!”

He's 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.

DARREN NASH: “I swear, this Championship Series has me so excited, I can’t even! Like literally, any of the four fighters involved could finish top two!”

MARK DEAN: “Yeah but you don’t wanna be heading into the second round of fights on the back foot. You want those three points and to build some momentum early.”

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, waiting for his opponent.

Suddenly, the arena went black, leaving everyone to sit there in a sudden daze. It lasted like this for several moments before a voice, a rather feminine and alluring voice, chimed in over the loud speakers:

“…Simply…Marveloussssss…”

The voice slowly faded into “Hate Me Now” by Nas featuring Puff Daddy as a spotlight hit 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 shone down upon him. Boos began heading his way as the video wall lit up with blue and gold graphics as the word “MARVELOUS” in golden cursive lettering appeared. The lights pulsed to the tempo of the music as Matthew brought his arms down, standing there looking at the ring while wearing his customary blue, black and gold entrance robe. Nodding his head, Page began walking toward the ring with slow confident strides while ignoring the insults hurled at him by the fans.

ANGEL SANTOS: “And his opponent, making his way to the ring from Irvine, California, weighing in at two hundred and thirty-five pounds… Matthew PAGE!”

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

The bell sounds and, following a moment of circling each other, both men lunge forth and begin trading blows in a vicious exchange. Despite Matthew Page’s significant size advantage, he’s rocked by some of the strikes from Whelan, as the little Irishman forces them into the corner of the ring. Page still throws shots to Finn, landing anywhere he can, but it doesn’t stop Whelan from reciprocating. Within seconds, the fight has become a brawl.

MARK DEAN: “There’s no love lost between these two, that’s for damn sure.”

DARREN NASH: “You gotta think that all the Championship Series fights will be as intense as they come, given the stakes.”

The shots from both men are intense and wild, fuelled by the reality that they both know what’s at stake here tonight – three all-important points in the Championship Series. Having seen enough, Referee James Cortez intervenes, pulling Finn Whelan away and instructing both fighters to bring it to the middle of the ring, away from the corner. The men glare at each other, trading verbal expletives back and forth, before stepping forth once more.

Before Page can land the fist that he throws towards Whelan, the small Irishman lashes out with a low kick, striking the knee of the Marvellous one. This subdues the cocky adversary and Whelan follows it up with a stiff punch to the skull, rocking Page in the process. A second kick ensues, before Whelan grabs Page by the scruff of the neck and tosses him casually through the ropes to the outside of the ring, showing tremendous intensity in his attitude here tonight.

MARK DEAN: “Finn is fired up right now! There’s a lot of Irish aggression on show here.”

DARREN NASH: “This just proves that it ain’t the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog. He’s taking it to a bigger, stronger opponent!”

Finn follows his foe to the outside and lands another few punches to Page, only to ram his head into the guard rail in a vicious manner. The crowd just behind it stands to their feet and pat Matthew Page and Whelan on the back, clearly intent on making this a fully interactive experience. Whelan backs off for a moment, as Page slumps to his knees.

The moment the Irishman turns around to continue the assault, Matthew Page explodes from the guard railing, charging towards Finn and sending him flying a full 360-degree rotation with a clothesline! The force is evident and Whelan’s landing is a hard one. Page shouts in anger towards his small foe – something inaudible – and begins stomping away at him, showing some of the aggression displayed by the Irishman at the start of this contest.

MARK DEAN: “Well you talk about dogs in fights, it looks like the Rottweiler just woke up from his nap, bro.”

DARREN NASH: “That was one nasty ass clothesline right there. Finn will be feeling that in the morning, for sure.”

Satisfied that he’s booted the stuffing out of Finn Whelan, Page grabs him up by the hair and rolls him back into the squared circle, aware that James Cortez is at a count of eight. Matthew returns to the ring and hauls Whelan up, only to whip him across the ropes with force. Finn ricochets off the ropes and ducks a second clothesline attempt by Page, before continuing over to the opposite set of ropes with the forward momentum. Again, Whelan rebounds but he can’t avoid a running lifting knee to the face! That derails him in an instant, dropping him to the canvas with authority. Matthew Page stares down at his victim, knowing that he may have just turned the tides of this fight.

MARK DEAN: “Oh man, that running knee is like being hit by a freight train! Whelan could be in big trouble here.”

DARREN NASH: “Trouble? The guy looks like he’s out! This one is over.”

Page drops to his knees, mounting Finn Whelan and unloading a barrage of closed-fist punches to the Irishman. The strikes are piston-like in execution and each one lands perfectly between the eyes of the smaller fighter. James Cortez shouts at Page to break it up but the command falls on deaf ears, as the Marvellous one just sees red. Cortez is persistent in his instruction giving though, which seems to irritate Page. The bigger man in the fight gets to his feet and squares up to James Cortez, warning him to shut his mouth, before returning to the fallen Irishman.

MARK DEAN: “Boy am I glad not to be James Cortez right now. He’s got to do his job without being eaten by Matthew Page.”

DARREN NASH: “Page is just picking the bones of Finn Whelan here, dude. This looks bad for the Irishman.”

Matthew grabs a fistful of Finn’s hair and drags him – while he’s still on his knees – over to the second rope, where he presses him throat-first against them and chokes him. The crowd are jeering Page for his behaviour but he’s paying no attention to them whatsoever. Again, James Cortez buzzes in the ear of the fighter, ordering him to cut it out. Page ignores this and continues to apply pressure onto the throat of Finn Whelan courtesy of the second rope, leaving the referee no alternative.

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-

Page throws Finn Whelan backwards in a disrespectful manner, relinquishing the choke. He glares at James Cortez, who is quick to remind him that he’s the official and what he says goes.

MARK DEAN: “Page is showing absolutely no chill here in this match, doing everything he can to just wear down, break down and pick apart his opponent.”

DARREN NASH: “What kind of message does this send to Hartley and Owyns? It says that he’s the man. You can see his motives.”

Matthew grabs Whelan up by the belt of his pants and scruff of his neck, before throwing him towards the ring post!

CRACK!

The crowd are giving Matthew Page nuclear heat right now, as he sends the Irishman shoulder-first into the steel post like a lawn dart. Whelan screams and clutches at said shoulder, as he crouches down in the corner. The sound was sickening and he has the full sympathy and support of just about everyone in the Hammerstein Ballroom.

MARK DEAN: “I think this is becoming a case of when Page ends things here, not if. Whelan is halfway up shit creek without a paddle.”

DARREN NASH: “The body can only take so much before it gives up on you, bro. You and I know that first hand and Whelan is finding it out the hard way here.”

Page approaches his foe and drags him up again, only to fire some more thunderous punches directly between the eyes of the Irishman. They’re so venomous that they send Whelan down to a seated position, with his head resting against the bottom turn-buckle. Page places the sole of his boot across the throat of Finn and applies as much pressure as he can, choking him out for the second time in this match.

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

James Cortez doesn’t even warn Page at this point before making the disqualification count. Matthew releases at FOUR and falls to his knees, grabbing Whelan by his face and screaming towards him: “C’mon, Finnegan! Come take the three points, bro!”

MARK DEAN: “This vicious side of Matthew Page is a sight to behold – for everyone except Finn Whelan.”

DARREN NASH: “Dude, I won’t lie, I’m shocked at this. It’s been all one-way traffic since that sick clothesline on the outside. Whelan’s done.”

Page hauls Whelan up to a vertical base and whips him across to the opposite corner with all the strength he can muster. Whelan collides forcefully with the turn-buckle pads upon arrival and bounces backwards, falling in a heap. This evokes a chorus of heavy jeers from the crowd, as Matthew Page looks dominant in this spell of the fight. The Marvellous one stares out towards the crowd, surveying the hatred and his only natural response is to flex his biceps and pose. Of course, all this does is piss the New York faithful off even more.

MARK DEAN: “I never thought I would see such a one sided spell in a match between two of Victory’s top guys. Maybe size does matter after all.”

DARREN NASH: “Page could pin him and end this if he wanted to, but it’s like he’s toying with him or something. Setting an example in this league of four.”

Page lifts Finn Whelan once again before whipping him across the ring towards the ropes. When Whelan rebounds, Page is ready and waiting, moving behind him and applying a sleeper hold. This has clearly become a game of wearing down and it’s one Matthew Page knows how to play beautifully. Slowly but surely, Page wrenches the sleeper hold tighter and tighter, trying to turn the Irishman’s lights out. Whelan drops to one knee and looks like he could be fading, but all it does is enable him to turn his body around enough to counter with a last gasp sit-out jaw breaker! Matthew Page is rocked by the counter and stumbles back, clutching at his face from the pain of the quick thinking attack.

MARK DEAN: “There’s a jaw breaker and maybe, just maybe, a glimpse of a comeback!”

DARREN NASH: “It’s definitely knocked Page for six, but Finn is spent. It’s amazing how exhausting it is getting your ass kicked from corner to corner.”

Despite the jaw-breaker, Matthew Page still approaches the recovering Whelan first, but Finn is more alert now and strikes with a sudden side Russian leg sweep, taking the bigger man down to the canvas. Whelan crawls over towards the ropes and hauls himself up with their aid, only to climb to the top turn-buckle in the corner, with menacing intent. Page stirs and spots this, so in a desperation move, pushes James Cortez towards the ropes, forcing Whelan to lose his balance and slip, low blowing himself with the turn-buckle pad!

MARK DEAN: “Ah, come on, dude! Not cool!”

DARREN NASH: “We saw this in the last fight against Connor Jacobs. Matty Page just does what needs to be done and you can’t do anything but respect that attitude, man.”

Eventually, Matthew Page returns to his feet and grins at the situation, before heading towards Finn Whelan, who perches precariously on the top turn-buckle. Before he can mount any sort of offense though, James Cortez pushes him, screaming that he’s never to put his hands on an official. This stuns the crowd, at the sheer audacity of the man in the stripes pushing a fighter. Matthew Page puts his hands on his hips for a moment, looking down at the canvas and shaking his head in utter dismay. Not able to accept the physical interaction with Cortez, Page shoves him viciously, sending him falling backwards halfway across the ring.

MARK DEAN: “Oh shit! He’s playing with fire here! Page shoves Cortez to the ground and he’s risking a disqualification!”

DARREN NASH: “Yeah, talk about flirting with disaster, man. He doesn’t need to do this. He’s been strong in this fight.”

The crowd are beside themselves with the behaviour of Page, who turns his focus back to Finn Whelan; a man who’s had enough time to recover. The Irishman launches a front kick to the head of the Marvellous one, stunning him with it. Matthew doubles over, cradling his head and, with nothing but adrenaline coursing through his veins, Whelan stands up and delivers his Seattle Killer curb stomp from the top rope!

MARK DEAN: “Oh my God! Seattle Killer! Seattle Killer from the top rope! He just drove Page’s skull into the canvas and probably straight to Hell!”

DARREN NASH: “You’ve gotta be kidding me?!”

The crowd pop hugely at the wild move, as Matthew Page slumps to the canvas and Finn Whelan covers him as a result.

James Cortez slowly comes to and begins a slower-than-usual count. ONE! … … … TWO! … … … THREE!

MARK DEAN: “Oh my! What a huge victory from the jaws of defeat! Out of nowhere – nowhere at all – Whelan takes this!”

DARREN NASH: “What the hell just happened?! Finn Whelan just stunned Matthew Page and New York!”

The bell sounds, much to the delight of the audience, as Finn Whelan is victorious in a battle that, at times, looked like he’d struggle.

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

‘Exhilarate’ by Born of Osiris roars through the Ballroom, as Whelan rolls out of the ring, landing on his feet. He’s spent and went through a thorough beating to come out victorious.

MARK DEAN: “I’m shocked by the viciousness of this match, bro! Like, that was the first pin fall and it ends it! They just wanted to hurt each other by the looks of it!”

DARREN NASH: “I have no idea why that got so personal but, damn, it did. Maybe it had something to do with those three points?”

MARK DEAN: “I wouldn’t be surprised, dude. Finn Whelan is three points closer to that Ultimate Championship after knocking off one of the bookmakers’ favourites here tonight in the first round.”

DARREN NASH: “Check out the league table here now. Matthew Page needs to make his final two fights count or he can kiss goodbye to that title!”





With the sounds of his theme still echoing in the background, Finn Whelan appears on the cameras as we find ourselves backstage. He seems pleased with himself, a slight smile on his face and a brisk walk in his step, though his shoulders are slouched out of expected exhaustion. He begins to unroll the tape from his hands, cocking his head to the side to stretch out his neck. But that expression of pride fades to annoyance when a few well-placed clicks of stiletto heels approach from off the camera. Hope Gordon appears, a smile on her face and a microphone in her hands.

Finn mumbles something under his breath as he looks up at the ceiling, and then back down to Hope, awaiting the questions that he knew would start tumbling out of her mouth in just a moment.

HOPE GORDON: Finn, you’ve just won against Matthew Page--

FINN WHELAN: Mmmhm.

He seems entirely uninterested in having this conversation. Hope pauses, and looks at him with her smile faltering before continuing on.

HOPE GORDON: -- and you’ve gained points ahead of some of the other competition now. Since you seem to be the underdog--

FINN WHELAN: I’m going to stop you right there, Hope. Yeah, I am the underdog. I’ve been the underdog since day one. Since Victory’s cards have been announced, I’ve been the one on the card with possibly the least amount of official experience. Tonight, I faced what could be the prime example of a “wrestler”. Felix has had two championship reigns. Owyns is a thirteen year veteran. But let’s point out something here. For the amount of nonchalant behavior that seems to spew out of the mouths of my opponents about me, it’s like they can’t help but include me.

HOPE GORDON: Do you think it’s because of--

FINN WHELAN: It’s probably a lot of things. One, I made it above four other people that were on the cards to this point, despite other brands and competitors insinuating I wouldn’t make it. You know the cards were stacked heavy on Page winning tonight, but yet again, here I stand, victorious. Everywhere I go, I step into the arena expected to fail because I don’t look the part, or I’m a rookie, or simply because people don’t like me. But time and time again, I prove the competition wrong. This is why Valentina hired me; I don’t carry the look of a wrestler, but I fight harder than the average one. I don’t really give two shits if I’m ‘liked’ or not. I don’t go around on social media acting like a complete douche, and expect hand outs after trying to cozy up to management, yet I haven’t paid attention to anything going on in this company. I, and very few others, bring credibility to this apparent joke of a roster.

HOPE GORDON: That being said, Ernie Parker had that leaked e-mail, and seemed to give you high praise comparatively to the other members of Victory’s roster. Would you--

FINN WHELAN: No. I wouldn’t join Livewire’s soap opera, even if I were paid a million dollars. I’m on Victory to win, not make friends and have what I consider worthless championships handed to me one night in. I feel it is more important to earn your shots at championships -- the belt being hung in the sights of four contenders, any of which have already proven their worth over the rest of the roster, builds anticipation. It builds respect, which is severely lacking over on the other brand.

HOPE GORDON: The Ultimate Championship match is looming closer. Is there anything you have to say about that? Predictions?

FINN WHELAN: Yeah. Come time for the championship to be contended for at EPIC I, we’ll have won points and settled scores and done well. I predict it’ll be me in that championship match, and whoever is on the other side has a better chance at Russia making peace with Syria before they have a chance at getting by me. I’ve got my sights set high, my aspirations and goals set. I will be Victory’s First-ever Ultimate Champion, regardless of what people have to say about me. Keep doubting me. It only makes me work harder. Now, if you’re done asking me Fan Access level questions, I’ve got a red eye to catch.

HOPE GORDON: Tha--

But Finn had already started passing her by, and was out of the picture before she could even get the word out. She purses her lips and shakes her head as the camera feed fades out.



Just as the show appears to be coming to a close, the cameras cut to the parking lot where security are making sure that Jack Owyns doesn't enter back into the building. Valentina Lemay emerges, dismissing the security and walking towards Owyns. Jack scowls at her, too focused on getting to Kirk.

VALENTINA LEMAY: "I know you might think that was a good move, but you're wrong."

Jack opens his mouth to respond but Valentina raises her hand up, not interested in listening.

VALENTINA LEMAY: "Kathleen Saxon went out of her way, to save both your ass and mine. There's no more help coming from us, but you've got to deal with this. I don't care what you do, just fix it. I don't need one of my roster members being arrested. I want all of this to be a distant memory by the next show, or I'm afraid it might be you that ends up long forgotten."

Valentina turns around and heads back into the arena, leaving a still reeling Jack Owyns to pace and plan his next move. The camera cuts abruptly, leaving the scene in darkness.