(The EMF logo flashes on the screen.)
(We open up in the darken arena as pyrotechnics blasts on the stage. The lights turn on, and fans yell, and wave their signs. The camera gets a few shots of the crowd, then zoom out to display the location information, we get one more shot of the crowd as the commentators speak over the shot.)
JR-Welcome to Saturday Shockwave, I’m good ol’ JR, Jim Ross. I’m joined by Jerry “The King” Lawler, and Kris “KG” Gaffney.
King-Tonight Aari might think he has the experience of the wild on his side, but that is nothing when facing…GOD!
Kris Gaffney-Yeah, why try…
JR-Lets get to the first match of the night.
The arena lights slowly dim… not to black, but to a deep amber hue, casting long shadows across the entrance stage. A single spotlight hits the curtain. Then—
“And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder…”
Johnny Cash’s voice rolls out slow, cold, and final. “The Man Comes Around” begins—no pyro, no flash, just presence. The kind of presence that makes grown men sit up straight and keep their mouths shut.
Joey Bellarosa steps through the curtain with the confidence of a man who doesn’t walk—he arrives.
He’s dressed in a custom-fitted, jet-black suit. No tie. Collar loose. A single gold chain rests across his chest. He adjusts the cuffs on his jacket, like he’s preparing for a meeting—not a fight.
Flanking him are two women: Seraphine Quinn and Rosa Milioti.
Seraphine walks like a queen, calm and composed, her gaze forward, never breaking focus. Rosa, on the other side, chews gum, smirks, and scans the crowd like she’s daring someone to make eye contact. Together, they don’t follow Joey—they orbit him.
Smoke creeps across the floor like fog rolling in from the streets. The spotlight stays fixed on Joey as he slowly makes his way to the ring, never looking left or right. The crowd? They’re not booing. They’re not cheering. They’re watching. Respectfully. Nervously.
As the music swells—
“Whoever is unjust, let him be unjust still…”
Joey reaches the ring steps and pauses. He removes his jacket, folds it with care, and hands it to Seraphine, who takes it without a word. Rosa cracks her knuckles and leans against the barricade, eyes still scanning the crowd.
Joey wipes his boots on the apron—not out of respect for the ring, but because this is his house, and you don’t walk filth across your own floors.
He enters the ring slow. Controlled. No wasted motion. He walks to the center and stands still, eyes down. When the music hits the final verse—
“…and behold, a pale horse. And his name that sat on him was Death…”
Joey lifts his chin. Stares dead into the hard cam. No emotion. No expression. Just the eyes of a man who’s already decided how this ends.
And then—
Samantha Irvin’s voice echoes with reverence and weight.
"Introducing… from Brooklyn, New York… weighing in at 245 pounds… he is The Don… JOEYYYYYY… BELLAROSA!"
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Just stands in the center of the ring while the lights return to full.
Because the match hasn’t started.
Not yet.
Joey’s just letting you understand what you stepped into.
This isn’t hype.
This is business.
And business is about to be handled.
The arena dims—clean and sharp. No theatrics. Just focus. Then—
“Return of the Mac” hits with that unmistakable groove.
The bass kicks in. The crowd pops.
They know what time it is.
Little Mac steps through the curtain.
He’s wearing a sleeveless hoodie—unzipped, hood down—his hands wrapped tight in black tape, knuckles calloused and exposed.
He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, shadowboxing lightly, eyes sharp, focused. He’s not playing to the crowd—he’s staying loose, staying ready.
Behind him, cool and steady, is Doc Louis, gum in his mouth, towel over one shoulder, nodding like he’s seen this win already.
Mac moves with confidence. Controlled swagger.
Taps his fists together as he walks.
No flash. No posturing. Just presence.
The strobe lights hit light gold and white as the beat pulses, but never overwhelm—because Mac’s energy doesn’t need dressing up.
The fans reach out—he slaps a few hands, nods to others, but he never stops moving. His rhythm is the beat of the ring.
He slides into the ring clean and low, pops up in one fluid motion, and immediately circles the ropes once—keeping his hands moving.
A short jab. A sidestep.
Always working. Always tuned in.
He hits the corner turnbuckle, hops up to the second rope, and raises one wrapped fist in the air—no grin, no posing. Just a statement:
“You’re stepping into my fight now.”
Samantha Irvin fires off with intensity:
"Making his way to the ring… accompanied by Doc Louis… from the Bronx, New York… weighing in at 200 pounds… he is THE PRIZE FIGHTER… LITTLLLLLLLEEEEE MAC!"
Mac drops down, rolls his shoulders, paces back to his corner. Doc gives him a nod, mutters something low.
Mac taps his fists together, leans into the ropes, and eyes his opponent like a sniper finding range.
He doesn’t flex.
He doesn’t scream.
He fights.
And you’d better pray your chin holds up.
Jim Ross: Joey Bellarosa and Little Mac may not be the biggest team in the match, but they bring speed, heart, and a lot of unpredictability.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: They also bring a size disadvantage, JR. Heart is nice until Mansa Carthage throws it into the third row.
Kris Gafney: Their game plan better be move fast, tag faster, and avoid being turned into furniture.
The arena is plunged into eerie darkness. A single spotlight beams down on the entrance stage, revealing an enormous 20-sided die (D20), its numbers glowing with arcane energy. The haunting opening chords of “Binks’ Sake” start to play, gentle and mysterious, the crowd immediately clapping along.
Suddenly, on the massive LED screen, a colossal animated dragon bursts forth—its scales shimmering violet and gold. It coils and roars, unleashing a torrent of digital flame straight down the ramp. As the fire rushes forward, spotlights follow, making it seem as if the very ramp itself is set ablaze, leading to the ring.
At that moment, from beneath the stage, a ring of real flames erupts. Rising through the fire, guitar in hand and bathed in flickering orange and purple light, stands The Dungeon Master. He strikes a rockstar pose, head thrown back, hair wild, the guitar gleaming across his chest. The arena explodes with cheers.
He launches into a flamboyant air guitar solo, strutting to the music, every step in sync with the rolling animation of the D20, which now tumbles down the ramp in perfect time with his movement—projected to look as if it’s rolling just ahead of him, leading the way to destiny.
Each of his steps triggers a cascade of lighting effects—arcane runes illuminate underfoot, bursts of fireworks erupt from the ramp, and shooting flames flare on either side. He spins and dances, encouraging the crowd to join in, then leaps onto the ring apron, pausing to soak in the roaring energy of the fans.
With a grand flourish, he vaults into the ring, landing center stage in an epic rockstar stance. He rips a final, thunderous strum on his guitar—at that precise moment, golden sparks rain down from the rafters, surrounding him in a shimmering storm, as purple and gold spotlights swirl around the ring.
As the music fades, the dragon on the screen loops and lands atop a mountain of dice, bellowing one last time as flames curl around the frame.
Announcer: Making his way to the ring… hailing from the Astral Plane… but Louder! Weighing in at two hundred and twelve pounds… he is the BARD of BRUTALITY… the MASTER of MAYHEM… THE DUNGEON MASTER!
The Dungeon Master drops to one knee, raises his guitar like a legendary sword, and flashes a wild, infectious grin as the crowd erupts—his legend already unfolding before the match has even begun.
[The arena dims, setting the stage for a dramatic entrance. The opening notes of "KICK BACK" by Kenshi Yonezu fill the space, its energetic and upbeat rhythm instantly gripping the audience. The titantron comes alive with vibrant animations reminiscent of action-packed anime sequences.]
Announcer: "Making his way
to the ring, from London, England, weighing in at 275 pounds, he is 'The Samurai Otaku'... Mansa Carthage!"
[As the music swells, the lights pulse in sync with the beat, casting bright, dynamic colors across the stage. Mansa Carthage bursts onto the scene with an exuberant energy, wearing a fusion of samurai-inspired attire and modern streetwear, complete with symbolic touches from his favorite animes.]
[Mansa moves with a playful yet confident swagger, embodying the larger-than-life characters he admires. He performs exaggerated, anime-style poses and martial arts moves, engaging the crowd and drawing them into his world of fantasy and excitement.]
[As he makes his way down the ramp, the titantron displays iconic scenes from various animes, interspersed with clips of Mansa's own in-ring highlights, showcasing his agility and strength.]
[Upon reaching the ring, Mansa leaps onto the apron with a flourish, pausing to strike a dramatic samurai pose, complete with a mock sword drawing gesture. He then flips over the top rope with acrobatic ease, landing in a superhero landing pose that sends the crowd into a frenzy.]
[With the music reaching its climax, Mansa bounds to each corner of the ring, energetically engaging with the fans, showing off his charismatic and playful side. He then centers himself, closing his eyes for a moment as if channeling the spirit of both anime heroes and samurai warriors, preparing himself mentally and physically for the battle ahead.]
[As the song fades, Mansa opens his eyes, poses, and now focused and ready, his playful demeanor giving way to the serious, disciplined side of a warrior ready for combat.]
Jim Ross: That is a dangerous combination. Mansa Carthage brings the power, and The Dungeon Master brings the strategy. That is a hard puzzle to solve.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Puzzle? It is simple, JR. They are going to smash the small ones and count to three.
Kris Gafney: Mansa is the hammer. Dungeon Master is the instruction manual that says where to swing it.
[The referee calls both teams in for instructions. Joey keeps glancing between Mansa and The Dungeon Master, trying to hide how much he understands the danger. Little Mac rolls his neck and keeps bouncing, unwilling to show fear even if he knows he is giving up size. Mansa nods once at the official. Dungeon Master barely reacts, still turning the black die between his fingers before handing it off to the corner. After a brief discussion between the teams, Joey Bellarosa agrees to start for his side. Mansa Carthage steps forward for his team. The referee checks the corners one last time and signals for the bell.]
[The bell rings and Joey immediately starts circling, staying light on his feet, never giving Mansa a straight line. Mansa follows with measured steps, cutting the ring in half instead of chasing. Joey darts in with a quick low kick to the thigh, then another, and quickly backs away before Mansa can grab him. Joey grins and points to his own temple, trying to frustrate the powerhouse early. Mansa does not take the bait. He waits. Joey darts in again, this time with a fast forearm to the jaw, but Mansa absorbs it and swings a heavy arm. Joey ducks underneath, hits the ropes, and springs back with a flying forearm that catches Mansa on the side of the head. Mansa staggers half a step, and Joey immediately tags Little Mac. Mac launches himself through the ropes with a fast body shot to Mansa’s ribs, then another, then a third, trying to stack punches before the bigger man can reset. Mansa shoves him away, but Mac slips the follow-up and lands a quick jab to the chest, then a sharp hook to the body that actually makes Mansa grunt.]
Jim Ross: Smart opening by Joey and Little Mac. They are using speed and tags to keep Mansa from setting his feet.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That only works until Mansa gets tired of being treated like a punching bag.
Kris Gafney: They are playing tag team dodgeball with a cinder block.
[Little Mac hits the ropes and ducks under Mansa’s clothesline, then bounces back with a jumping uppercut that catches Mansa under the chin. Mansa rocks backward toward the corner, and Joey calls for a tag. Mac tags him in, and Joey springboards over the ropes with a dropkick that drives Mansa further into the turnbuckles. The crowd erupts as Joey and Mac both grab an arm and try to whip Mansa across the ring. Mansa plants his feet and reverses the momentum, sending both men toward the ropes instead. Mac rolls out under the bottom rope, but Joey rebounds straight into Mansa’s grip. Mansa catches him in a huge scoop and drives him down with a powerslam that rattles the ring. The air changes immediately. Mansa stands, looks to his corner, and tags The Dungeon Master.]
Jim Ross: One catch. That is all it took. Joey’s momentum just got erased.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Deleted, emptied from the recycle bin, and probably set on fire.
Kris Gafney: Joey went from flying to filed under evidence.
[The Dungeon Master enters slowly, not rushing to capitalize because he knows Joey is already stunned. He drags Joey up by the wrist and twists into a standing arm wringer, then drives a shoulder into the joint. Joey tries to roll through, but Dungeon Master steps with him and traps the arm behind his back in a hammerlock. Joey reaches for his corner, but Dungeon Master cuts off the angle and drops him with a hammerlock slam that makes Joey cry out and clutch the shoulder. Dungeon Master kneels beside him and presses one forearm across the back of Joey’s neck while bending the arm at an ugly angle. Little Mac claps from the apron, yelling for Joey to move. Joey gets one knee under himself, but Dungeon Master yanks him back by the arm and tags Mansa with his free hand. Mansa steps in and drives a heavy boot into Joey’s ribs while Dungeon Master holds the wrist extended. The referee counts and Dungeon Master exits at four, leaving Mansa in control.]
Jim Ross: Excellent tag wrestling by Mansa and The Dungeon Master. They isolated the arm and made the tag count.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is what I like. Cut the ring in half and cut the opponent into pieces.
Kris Gafney: Very educational. I hate the curriculum.
[Mansa pulls Joey up and whips him hard into the corner. Joey hits the buckles and stumbles forward into a crushing shoulder tackle that flips him to the mat. Mansa covers. One. Two. Joey kicks out, but it takes effort. Mansa immediately drags him away from Little Mac’s corner and plants a knee across the ribs, forcing Joey to carry his weight while reaching helplessly toward his partner. Joey fights up with short punches to the body, but Mansa shuts him down with a headbutt to the chest and a powerful side slam. Mansa hooks the leg again. One. Two. Joey kicks out once more. Mansa nods, not frustrated, only measuring. He tags Dungeon Master back in, and Dungeon Master enters with a stomp to the shoulder before applying a grounded straightjacket hold, threading Joey’s arms across his own throat and pulling backward.]
Jim Ross: Joey Bellarosa is in a bad way here. He needs to make a tag, and he needs it soon.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Need and ability are two different things, JR.
Kris Gafney: Joey’s GPS says Mac is nearby, but the route includes several monsters.
[Joey rocks side to side, fighting the hold as the crowd starts clapping him along. Dungeon Master tightens the straightjacket and presses a knee between the shoulders. Joey kicks his legs, twists his hips, and finally manages to roll backward, stacking Dungeon Master’s shoulders for a sudden pin. One. Two. Dungeon Master releases and kicks out. Joey scrambles toward his corner, but Dungeon Master catches the ankle. Joey hops on one foot, reaches, and then spins back with an enzuigiri that clips Dungeon Master on the side of the head. Both men go down. The crowd rises. Joey crawls. Dungeon Master crawls. Mansa reaches over the ropes for the tag, but Dungeon Master is still dazed. Joey lunges and tags Little Mac.]
[Little Mac explodes into the ring like a fired cannon, springboarding off the top rope with a flying forearm that knocks Dungeon Master down. Mansa steps through the ropes illegally to cut him off, but Mac sees him coming and peppers him with body shots, left, right, left, then ducks under a swing and dropkicks the knee. Mansa drops to one leg and Mac turns right back to Dungeon Master, landing a jumping uppercut that sends him into the corner. Mac charges with a corner body shot, then another, then backs up and lands a running knee to the midsection. Dungeon Master staggers out and Mac climbs to the second rope, leaping with a diving fist drop that connects across the chest. Cover. One. Two. Dungeon Master kicks out.]
Jim Ross: Little Mac is on fire. That tag changed everything.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: It changed it temporarily. Fires go out when Mansa pours a bucket of pain on them.
Kris Gafney: That bucket is regulation size and probably full.
[Mac stays aggressive, trying to end it before the larger team can reset. He waits in his stance as Dungeon Master rises, then fires a sharp combination to the body and head. Dungeon Master reels, and Mac signals for the KO Punch. The crowd rises with him. Mac crouches, loads up, and springs forward, but Dungeon Master collapses low at the last instant, letting Mac sail just past the target. Mac lands awkwardly and turns into Dungeon Master’s grip. Dungeon Master hooks him from behind and snaps him down with a half nelson backbreaker that cuts off the comeback in one brutal motion. Joey tries to enter, but the referee stops him, and Mansa takes advantage by stepping in from the apron and driving a single stomp into Mac’s ribs before exiting.]
Jim Ross: I do not like that at all. Mansa took advantage of the referee being tied up with Joey.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is tag team awareness, JR. You call it unfair because it worked.
Kris Gafney: It was illegal with teamwork, which apparently makes it strategy.
[Dungeon Master tags Mansa, and now Little Mac is the one trapped far from home. Mansa enters and lifts Mac into a bear hug, squeezing the air out of him while Joey shouts encouragement from the apron. Mac hammers short punches to the side of Mansa’s head, but the grip tightens. Mansa lifts him higher, then drives him into the corner spine first. Mac gasps and stumbles forward into Mansa’s overhead belly-to-belly throw. Mansa covers. One. Two. Mac kicks out. Mansa pulls him up again, but Mac keeps punching, refusing to fade. He lands a hook to the ribs, another, then a desperate uppercut that catches Mansa under the jaw. Mansa staggers just enough for Mac to crawl between his legs toward the corner.]
Jim Ross: Little Mac is fighting with everything he has. That young man will not quit.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: He may not quit, but he can still get flattened.
Kris Gafney: Quitting is optional. Impact is mandatory.
[Mansa grabs Mac by the ankle before he can tag, but Mac rolls through and kicks him away. Mansa stumbles into the ropes. Mac lunges toward Joey, but Dungeon Master runs along the apron and yanks Joey off the corner, sending him crashing to the floor before the tag can happen. The crowd boos loudly. Mac’s hand slaps empty turnbuckle. He turns in disbelief and Mansa takes his head off with a lariat that flips him inside out.]
Jim Ross: Come on! Dungeon Master just pulled Joey off the apron and denied the tag. That is exactly the kind of unfair environment I cannot stand.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: It is called preventing disaster, JR. Joey should have held on tighter.
Kris Gafney: The tag rope has filed for emotional damages.
[Mansa covers Mac after the lariat. One. Two. Mac kicks out, barely. Mansa looks to Dungeon Master, and both men seem to understand the next step without speaking. Mansa tags out and lifts Mac into a powerbomb position as Dungeon Master enters. Joey crawls back onto the apron, still hurt, and sees the danger. He rushes in, breaking through the referee’s warning, and clips Dungeon Master with a springboard forearm before he can complete the tandem move. Mac slips free from Mansa’s grip and lands behind him. Joey and Mac both fire at Mansa now, Joey with forearms, Mac with body punches, until they finally force him back into the ropes. Together they whip Mansa across the ring, and on the rebound Mac lands a jumping uppercut while Joey follows with a dropkick. Mansa spills through the ropes to the floor, and the crowd erupts.]
Jim Ross: Joey and Little Mac are still alive. They finally put Mansa on the outside.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: They had better watch The Dungeon Master. He is the one still legal.
Kris Gafney: Congratulations, you removed the hammer. The chessboard is still haunted.
[Joey turns toward Dungeon Master, but he walks into a kick to the gut. Dungeon Master tosses Joey shoulder first through the ropes and into the post, leaving him spilling to the floor. Little Mac is alone again, breathing hard but refusing to back up. He fires the first punch. Dungeon Master absorbs it and fires a forearm. Mac fires another punch, then a body shot, then a quick jab that backs Dungeon Master a step. Mac runs the ropes for one more big uppercut, but Dungeon Master catches him mid-charge, pivots, and drives him down with a sudden spinebuster. Instead of covering, Dungeon Master tags Mansa back in.]
[Mansa climbs into the ring and drags Little Mac up while Dungeon Master circles behind him. Joey is still down on the floor, clutching his shoulder and trying to crawl back to the apron. Mac throws one last punch at Mansa’s ribs, then another, but Mansa absorbs them. Dungeon Master hooks Mac’s arms from behind in a double underhook while Mansa steps in front of him. Dungeon Master lifts Mac just enough to expose him, and Mansa blasts him with a devastating running knee to the chest. Dungeon Master immediately turns the momentum into a DDT, spiking Mac into the mat as Mansa cuts off Joey with a boot through the ropes when he tries to slide back in.]
Jim Ross: DDT after the running knee! Little Mac had no way to protect himself.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is what happens when power and planning shake hands.
Kris Gafney: Mac just got combo attacked by the final boss and his accountant.
[Dungeon Master lifts up Little Mac then drops him with the Critital Hit. Dungeon Master covers Little Mac, hooking the far leg tight while Mansa stands guard between the cover and Joey Bellarosa. Joey tries to crawl around Mansa’s legs, reaching desperately, but Mansa drops a heavy elbow across his back to keep him from making the save. The referee counts. One. Two. Three.]
(“Cult of personality” blasts on the PA system. CM Punk walks out on the stage, and he walks down to the ring, and he steps inside of the ring doing his trademark poses,)
Jim Ross: CM Punk has made a career out of getting into an opponent’s head before the first hold is even applied.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is because he is smart, JR. A win before the bell still counts in the brain, even if the referee will not acknowledge it.
Kris Gafney: Punk talks like a man who brought footnotes to a fistfight.
(The grape signal goes out as random veggies make a run for it, run down to the ring, suddenly Kenny comes out of no where screaming and he takes out the veggies, all three are down the “Duck song” blasts on the PA system)
Jim Ross: Kenny Omegrape looks ready for the mental game and the physical one.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: He had better be ready for both. Punk can beat you with a hold, a strike, or a sentence.
Kris Gafney: Kenny looks like he brought confidence and cardio. That is already a better travel kit than most people.
[The referee calls both men to the center and gives the final instructions. Punk keeps talking over the official’s shoulder, telling Kenny that bright lights make people make dumb mistakes. Kenny nods along like he is listening to helpful advice, then lightly pats Punk on the shoulder. Punk’s smile disappears for half a second. The referee backs them apart and signals for the bell.]
[The bell rings and Punk circles slowly, trying to dictate the pace with feints and pauses. Kenny stays light on his feet, drifting just outside Punk’s reach, refusing to bite on the first few hand movements. Punk reaches for a collar and elbow, but Kenny ducks under and grabs a waistlock. Punk instantly pries at the hands, turns, and hooks a side headlock. Kenny shoots him to the ropes and drops down. Punk hops over and comes back with a shoulder block, but Kenny sidesteps, catches the arm, and spins Punk into an armdrag that sends him rolling to a seated position. Punk looks up, annoyed, and Kenny gives him a quick little wave. Punk gets to his feet and claps sarcastically, but the crowd cheers the early exchange.]
Jim Ross: Kenny Omegrape is showing Punk early that he can match him in timing.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Match him once, maybe. Let us see him do it when Punk starts getting mean.
Kris Gafney: Punk just got waved at like a delayed bus.
[Punk re-enters more aggressively, snapping a kick to Kenny’s thigh and following with a forearm to the jaw. Kenny answers with a chop that echoes, then another, forcing Punk back a step. Punk goes low with a kick to the knee, then grabs a wrist and yanks Kenny into a short clothesline attempt. Kenny ducks it, hits the ropes, and comes back with a flying forearm that sends Punk down. Kenny keeps moving, landing a quick standing moonsault for the first cover. One. Punk kicks out quickly and rolls to the ropes, blinking with irritation. Kenny reaches for him, but Punk grabs the top rope and demands the referee keep him back. Kenny backs away clean, and Punk uses that space to slip out to the floor.]
Jim Ross: Punk is already slowing things down. He knows Kenny wants rhythm, so he is breaking the music.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Smart. If the guy is dancing, pull the plug on the band.
Kris Gafney: Punk just turned the tempo into dial-up internet.
[Kenny does not chase wildly. He waits, arms loose, while Punk paces outside and lectures a fan about patience. Punk slides in, and as Kenny steps forward, Punk slides halfway back out, baiting him. Kenny reaches this time and Punk snaps his throat across the middle rpe. Kenny stumbles backward and Punk slingshots in with a sharp clothesline that drops him. Punk immediately mounts with short forearms, then drags Kenny up and drives a knee into the ribs. He follows with a snap suplex and floats into a cover. One. Two. Kenny kicks out.]
Jim Ross: That is where Punk is so dangerous. He can turn a delay into a trap.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: It was beautiful, JR. Annoying, effective, and perfectly legal enough.
Kris Gafney: Legal enough is the official language of trouble.
[Punk settles into control, grinding Kenny down with a seated chinlock and a knee planted between the shoulders. Kenny fights the hands, but Punk shifts to a cravate, wrenching the neck while talking into his ear. Kenny pushes to one knee as the crowd claps in rhythm. Punk snaps him back down by the head, then stands and drives a stomp to the shoulder. He drags Kenny to the corner and lands a high knee under the jaw, then grabs the head and runs for the bulldog. Kenny shoves him off at the last second, sending Punk chest first into the opposite buckles. Punk staggers out and Kenny catches him with a quick back suplex, buying a much-needed reset.]
Jim Ross: Kenny created separation, and that may be the turning point.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Or it may be the part where Punk gets angrier and more annoying.
Kris Gafney: Angrier and more annoying is also my email inbox.
[Both men rise at nearly the same time. Punk swings first, but Kenny blocks and fires a forearm, then another, then a sharp chop that backs Punk into the ropes. Kenny whips him across, lowers, and pops Punk into the air for a flapjack that drops him face first to the mat. Kenny hits the ropes and lands a sliding dropkick to the side of Punk’s head. Cover. One. Two. Punk kicks out. Kenny stays on him, hooking the waist and lifting for a German suplex, but Punk blocks with a back elbow. Punk fires a roundhouse kick that Kenny ducks, and Kenny answers with a snap dragon suplex that folds Punk high on his shoulders. The crowd erupts as Kenny bridges for the cover. One. Two. Punk kicks out again, this time much closer.]
Jim Ross: Snap dragon suplex by Kenny Omegrape, and Punk was almost caught.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Almost does not buy dinner, JR.
Kris Gafney: It does buy hope, but hope has terrible resale value.
[Kenny rises with momentum and points to the corner. He climbs quickly, but Punk rolls toward the ropes, forcing Kenny to change plans. Kenny hops down and reaches for him, only for Punk to yank him into the corner pad face first. Punk pops up and lands a short roundhouse kick to the temple, then another to the chest. Kenny drops to a knee. Punk hits the ropes and drills a running knee, then covers with a deep hook. One. Two. Kenny kicks out. Punk sits up and stares at the official, holding up three fingers, but the referee only gives him two. Punk’s irritation sharpens into calculation.]
Jim Ross: Punk nearly had him, but he is letting frustration creep in.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Frustration can be useful. It makes the strikes meaner.
Kris Gafney: It also makes the decision-making taste like old milk.
[Punk drags Kenny up and signals for the Go To Sleep. He hoists Kenny onto his shoulders, but Kenny elbows the side of Punk’s head before he can settle the grip. Punk staggers. Kenny slips down behind him and shoves him into the ropes. Punk rebounds and Kenny catches him with a leaping knee to the jaw. Punk wobbles but stays upright. Kenny runs again and Punk counters with a sudden powerslam, flattening him at center ring. Punk hooks both legs. One. Two. Kenny gets a shoulder up at the last moment.]
Jim Ross: That was close. Punk’s instincts are still razor sharp.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is why you never count him out, unless the referee is on three and somebody is pinned.
Kris Gafney: Wrestling wisdom, brought to you by basic math.
[Punk stands and slowly pulls Kenny up, this time hooking both arms for a double underhook backbreaker. Kenny drops his weight, twists free, and snaps a back elbow into Punk’s jaw. Punk answers with a slap, loud and insulting. Kenny pauses, turns his head back slowly, and the crowd swells. Kenny unloads with a burst of forearms, backing Punk across the ring. Punk tries another kick to the knee, but Kenny hops over it, catches Punk’s wrist, and reels him into a ripcord knee strike that lands flush. Punk crumbles to one knee. Kenny grabs him around the waist, deadlifts him, and plants him with a bridging German suplex. One. Two. Punk kicks out again, barely.]
Jim Ross: Kenny Omegrape is stacking offense now. Punk is in real danger.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Punk needs one shortcut. One good one.
Kris Gafney: He is checking his pockets for villain coupons.
[Kenny rises and signals that he is ready to end it. Punk crawls toward the ropes, one hand out like he needs help. Kenny approaches carefully, but Punk grabs the referee’s shirt for a split second, using the official as a screen. He jabs a thumb toward Kenny’s eye, but Kenny sees it coming and catches the wrist. The crowd explodes as Kenny shakes his head. Punk’s eyes widen. Kenny spins him around, lifts him up and he goes for the Geese Lightning. Punk shifts his weight, and he lands behind Kenny. Kenny turns around. Punk lifts up Kenny, and he drops him with the GTS!! Kenny seems out of it. Punk goes into the cover on Kenny. The ref goes into position to make the count. The ref counts 1………..2……….3!!]
JR-Punk gets the victory!
[“Game On” by Disciple hits the speakers and the crowd rises with a loud, immediate cheer as Tony Ikeda steps through the curtain with a confident stride and a focused smile. Tony pauses at the top of the ramp, nodding to the rhythm of the music, then points toward the ring with the calm certainty of a man who knows exactly what kind of fight waits for him. He slaps hands down the aisle, stopping briefly to point at a young fan wearing his colors before tapping his own chest and promising to bring the fight home. At ringside he climbs onto the apron, grips the top rope, and vaults over in one clean motion, landing on his feet as the crowd pops again. Tony circles the ring with sharp, controlled steps, rolling his shoulders and loosening his neck, then backs into the corner while the song continues to thunder around him. He looks toward the entrance with a serious expression now, the smile fading into focus as he tests his hands, already thinking about the Full Nelson Suplex if the opportunity appears.]
Jim Ross: Tony Ikeda is beloved by this crowd, and he has earned that affection the hard way. He comes to compete, and he comes prepared.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Prepared is nice, JR, but sometimes prepared meets lucky. I have seen a lot of matches turn on one weird moment.
Kris Gafney: Weird moment? Around here that is not a possibility. That is practically a scheduled segment.
(The arena lights suddenly cut out, plunging everything into darkness. For a brief moment, the only sound is the murmur of the crowd, uncertain of what’s about to happen. Then, with a crackle of static, “My Way” by Frank Sinatra begins to play. But it’s not the smooth, classic version everyone knows—this one is slightly distorted, as if being played on an old, warbled record.
A lone spotlight flickers on, illuminating the entrance ramp where Jack "The Anarchist" Lynch stands, his silhouette stark against the chaos flashing on the titantron behind him—glitchy visuals of riots, fires, and carnage intercut with scenes from black-and-white films, all overlayed with the words "The Anarchist" in jagged, graffiti-style text.)
Announcer: Making his way to the ring. Fight from Wellington, New Zealand
. He stands 6'1" and weighs 230 pounds. He is The Anarchist, Jack Lynch!
(Jack takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his barbed-wire baseball bat resting casually on his shoulder. He wears a long, tattered trench coat covered in patches and scribbled phrases that look like they were done in a fit of madness. With each step, the crowd’s anticipation builds, his presence commanding yet erratic, like a ticking time bomb.
As he strides down the ramp, Jack’s grin is wide and manic, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of what’s to come. He stops suddenly, halfway down, as if a thought has just occurred to him. With a playful shrug, he pulls a flask from inside his coat, takes a swig, and sprays the liquid into the air. The mist catches the spotlight, creating a shimmering, chaotic halo around him as he continues toward the ring.
Reaching ringside, Jack doesn’t just walk up the steps like everyone else—no, that’s too predictable. Instead, he makes a sudden, wild dash toward the barricade, leaping onto it with the grace of a cat, balancing precariously on the edge. He taunts the crowd, swinging his bat playfully, then balances along the top of the barricade as if it were a tightrope, laughing all the while.
Finally, he jumps down and slides into the ring under the bottom rope, rolling to his feet in one fluid, exaggerated motion. He twirls his bat in his hand like a gunslinger ready for a duel, his eyes scanning the crowd as if daring anyone to challenge him.
Once inside, Jack heads straight for the nearest turnbuckle, leaping up onto it with a wild, unhinged energy. Perched there, he looks out over the crowd with a mix of madness and glee, as if soaking in the chaos he’s about to unleash. With a sudden, dramatic swing of his bat toward the titantron, the screen behind him glitches violently, flashing between images of destruction and his own maniacal grin.
Jack then hops down from the turnbuckle, casually tossing his bat to a ring crew member with a wink and a smirk, as if he’s just handed them a live grenade. He leans back against the ropes, whistling the last notes of "My Way" as if it’s all just a part of his twisted, chaotic day.)
Jim Ross: Jack Lynch has tremendous speed and a lot of heart. He is going to have to use both, because Tony Ikeda is not easy to surprise.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Everybody is easy to surprise if the surprise is big enough, JR.
Kris Gafney: I feel like that sentence is going to age suspiciously well.
[The referee checks both men, reminds them to keep the match clean, and calls for the bell. Tony and Jack circle carefully at first, both men light on their feet and both men aware that the first mistake could give the other man control. They lock up in the center, and Tony immediately uses his strength advantage to shift Jack into a side headlock. Jack pushes at the elbow, backs Tony to the ropes, and shoots him off. Tony rebounds and drops Jack with a shoulder block. Jack rolls backward, pops to a knee, and gives Tony a quick nod like he understands the warning. Tony hits the ropes again, Jack drops down, Tony steps over, Jack springs up and catches him with a crisp arm drag that sends Tony sliding across the mat. Tony gets up fast and charges back in, but Jack meets him with another arm drag, this time holding onto the arm and wrenching it down into a grounded wristlock.]
Jim Ross: Nice quickness from Jack Lynch. He knows he cannot let Tony dictate the mat game completely.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is a good plan until Tony grabs him and folds him backward.
Kris Gafney: Tony’s Full Nelson Suplex is less a move and more a very rude weather event.
[Tony works to his knees, twisting his wrist and rolling forward to relieve the pressure. Jack tries to keep the hold, but Tony gets a foot under him, turns through, and reverses into a hammerlock. Jack reaches back, searching for a counter, then ducks under Tony’s arm and cartwheels free, landing on his feet to a cheer. He fires a quick dropkick to Tony’s chest, sending Tony back into the ropes. Jack charges, but Tony lowers his shoulder and back body drops him over the top. Jack lands on the apron, catches his balance, and drives a shoulder into Tony’s midsection between the ropes. Jack springboards in for a flying forearm, but Tony sidesteps just enough that Jack lands on his feet and turns into a stiff palm strike to the jaw. Tony follows with a snapmare and a running kick to the back, then covers for a quick one count.]
Jim Ross: Tony Ikeda changed that exchange in a heartbeat. That is veteran awareness.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is what happens when you go flying around. Eventually someone moves the runway.
Kris Gafney: Jack requested landing clearance and Tony denied the paperwork.
[Tony settles into control, pulling Jack into a seated chinlock and keeping a knee pressed into his back. Jack grimaces but starts working up almost immediately, driven by the crowd clapping him along. Tony shifts the hold, trying to pull him back down, but Jack fires elbows into the ribs. Tony absorbs the first two, then cuts Jack off with a knee lift to the midsection. Tony whips Jack hard into the corner and follows with a running forearm that lands clean. Jack stumbles out and Tony hooks him for a vertical suplex, lifting him high and dropping him flat in the center of the ring. Tony covers again. One. Two. Jack kicks out. Tony does not complain. He simply pulls Jack up and starts targeting the neck and shoulders, softening the exact area he needs for the Full Nelson Suplex.]
Jim Ross: Tony is building toward his finish now. You can see the strategy. Neck, shoulders, upper back.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is not strategy, JR. That is an instruction manual.
Kris Gafney: Step one, tenderize. Step two, suplex. Step three, explain to your neck what happened.
[Jack fights back with a sudden burst, catching Tony with a jawbreaker and stumbling away toward the ropes. Tony charges, but Jack ducks and sends Tony through with a low bridge. Tony lands on his feet outside, but Jack sees the opening and hits the far ropes, sprinting back into a tope through the ropes that drives Tony into the barricade. The crowd erupts as both men spill to the floor. Jack gets up first, shaking out his arm, and rolls Tony back into the ring before climbing to the top rope. Tony rises slowly, turning just as Jack launches with a missile dropkick that knocks him down near center. Jack crawls into the cover. One. Two. Tony kicks out.]
Jim Ross: Jack Lynch took a big chance and it paid off.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: It paid off with two. That is like winning a coupon for half a sandwich.
Kris Gafney: Still better than no sandwich, King.
[Jack keeps moving, knowing Tony recovers quickly if given air. He lands a pair of forearms, then a chop, then whips Tony to the ropes. Tony reverses, and Jack rebounds into a tilt-a-whirl attempt, but Jack slips through and lands behind him. Jack tries for a roll-up, but Tony rolls through, gets to his feet, and catches Jack with a short lariat that turns him inside out. Tony drops to one knee and takes a breath, then drags Jack up and hooks a waistlock. Jack elbows free once, twice, but Tony hangs on and lands a German suplex with a tight bridge. One. Two. Jack kicks out, rolling to his side and clutching the back of his head.]
Jim Ross: Tony Ikeda with the German suplex, and Jack Lynch barely gets the shoulder up.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: He may have gotten the shoulder up, but his eyes are still looking for the license plate.
Kris Gafney: That suplex had toll charges.
[Tony begins to feel the finish nearing. He stands behind Jack, flexing his hands as the crowd buzzes with concern. Jack climbs to one knee. Tony threads one arm under Jack’s shoulder, then the other, trying to lock the full nelson. Jack senses the danger instantly and drops his weight, grabbing at Tony’s fingers before they can clasp. Tony wrenches him upward anyway, but Jack mule kicks backward and creates just enough space to twist out. Tony spins with a forearm, Jack ducks, and both men hit the ropes from opposite sides. They collide in the center with simultaneous clotheslines, and both go down hard.]
Jim Ross: Both men had the same idea, and both paid for it.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is what we call a group project with no winner.
Kris Gafney: Everybody gets a C-minus and a headache.
[The referee starts a count, but both men stir by four. Tony reaches the ropes, Jack pushes up on one hand, and the crowd noise grows as the race to vertical begins. Tony stands first and swings. Jack blocks and fires a forearm. Tony answers with a palm strike. Jack lands another forearm. Tony fires back. The exchange builds until Jack ducks under a wide shot and hits a sling blade, bringing Tony down. Jack pops up, adrenaline taking over, and charges to the corner. Tony staggers up and Jack hits a running knee strike, then follows with a bulldog out of the corner. Jack covers. One. Two. Tony kicks out just in time.]
Jim Ross: Jack Lynch is building momentum again. He is stringing offense together now.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Tony needs to shut this down before Jack gets too cute.
Kris Gafney: Too cute is dangerous. It leads to flips, dives, and regret.
[Jack signals to the crowd and climbs to the second rope, waiting for Tony to rise. Tony gets to his feet and Jack leaps for a crossbody, but Tony catches him. The arena gasps as Tony shifts Jack’s weight and turns him into a brutal backbreaker across the knee. Jack rolls away in pain, and Tony drops down for the cover. One. Two. Jack kicks out again. Tony sits up, breathing hard now, surprised but not rattled. He pulls Jack up and lands a stiff knee to the midsection, then another. Jack doubles over and Tony steps behind him again. This time Tony gets one arm threaded cleanly. The crowd rises in alarm as he reaches for the second arm.]
Jim Ross: Tony is looking for it again. If he locks that full nelson, this may be over.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: He has him. He is almost there.
Kris Gafney: Jack’s shoulders are currently in a hostage situation.
[Jack fights wildly, twisting and stepping toward the ropes, but Tony drags him backward. Tony locks the figures, and he connects with the full nelson suplex!! Tony Ikeda goes into the cover on Jack Lynch. The ref goes into position to make the count. The ref counts 1………….2………..3!!]
JR-Tony Ikeda is able to survive the chaos
The opening notes of "Attitude" by The Misfits blast through the arena as the lights flicker and strobe. The entire crowd erupts into cheers and excitement as Sythe appears at the entrance ramp.
Jim Ross: Sythe has a dangerous way about him. He does not rush, he does not panic, and he is always looking for the first mistake.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is because Sythe understands something important, JR. The crowd does not win matches. Mean streaks do.
Kris Gafney: Sythe looks like bad news with entrance music.
The arena lights dim as an eerie hush falls over the crowd. The tension is palpable, the anticipation thick in the air. Then, the opening bassline of Stayin' Alive by the Bee Gees hits the speakers, and suddenly, the stage begins to rumble. A circular platform in the center of the ramp slowly rises, bathed in golden, flickering flames like a ritualistic summoning. From the depths below, Ziggy Thickness emerges, standing motionless atop the platform, arms folded across his chest, wearing oversized, dark-tinted sunglasses. His expression is impossibly serious, his stance almost menacing. The flames surrounding him flicker dramatically, casting ominous shadows across his frame.
He whips off his sunglasses and launches them into the crowd like a rockstar throwing a guitar pick. The second the glasses leave his hand, his entire demeanor shifts. Ziggy explodes into dance, his hips shimmying, his hands snapping, and his feet gliding in rhythm with the music. He struts down the ramp with the confidence of a 1970s disco king, slapping hands with fans, twirling dramatically, and even high-fiving a confused referee at ringside.
The ring announcer steps forward.
"Making his way to the ring, fighting out of the Boogie Wonderland! Weighing in at two hundred and sixty-five pounds of pure love, standing at a dangerous five feet and nine inches… he is The Prettiest Nightmare, Ziggy Thickness!"
Ziggy reaches ringside, hops up onto the apron, and wipes his forehead like he’s just put in a hard shift at Studio 54. With a dramatic deep breath, he slowly steps through the ropes before stopping in the center of the ring. Arms outstretched, he stands perfectly still for a moment, soaking in the energy of the crowd.
Without warning, he launches into a perfect backflip, landing with the grace of a gymnast and the confidence of a man who absolutely should not be that agile. The audience erupts in cheers as Ziggy raises his arms, basking in his own magnificence before casually moonwalking to his corner, giving a deep, over-the-top bow to the referee.
With a wink at the camera and a knowing smirk, Ziggy Thickness leans against the turnbuckle, ready for whatever comes next.
Jim Ross: Ziggy Thickness may bring personality, but do not mistake that for a lack of toughness. This man can fight.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: He can dance, he can pose, but can he survive Sythe? That is the question.
Kris Gafney: Ziggy looks like he brought rhythm, confidence, and possibly his own weather system.
[The referee gives both men final instructions. Sythe barely listens, staring holes through Ziggy. Ziggy nods respectfully, then claps his hands once and backs into his corner. The bell rings.]
[Sythe steps out slowly, trying to control the pace immediately. Ziggy circles him with a bounce, staying just outside the reach of Sythe’s long arms. Sythe swipes for a lockup, but Ziggy ducks under and gives him a quick pat on the back before dancing away, drawing a cheer and an annoyed glare. Sythe lunges again and this time catches Ziggy in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, using his leverage to push him toward the ropes. Ziggy drops his hips, twists, and reverses just enough to put Sythe against the strands. The referee asks for a break. Ziggy releases clean and backs off, hands up. Sythe responds with a cheap shove to the chest. Ziggy stumbles back, looks down, then looks up with a grin as if Sythe has just made the night more fun.]
Jim Ross: Sythe trying to bully him early, but Ziggy is not taking the bait.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Not yet. Give him time. Everybody takes the bait eventually.
Kris Gafney: Sythe cast the line and Ziggy did a dance around the hook.
[They circle again and Sythe snaps a kick into Ziggy’s thigh, then follows with a sharp forearm across the jaw. Ziggy absorbs it, shakes his head, and answers with a heavy right hand to the body. Sythe backs up half a step, surprised by the force. Ziggy presses in with two more body shots, then whips Sythe to the ropes. Sythe reverses, but Ziggy rebounds with a shoulder block that knocks Sythe down to one knee. Ziggy hits the ropes again, hops over Sythe’s attempted trip, and comes back with a running hip attack that sends Sythe rolling toward the corner. The crowd pops as Ziggy points to his own hip and shrugs like he cannot help being effective.]
Jim Ross: Ziggy Thickness just used every bit of his frame there and Sythe did not enjoy the landing.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That was disrespectful, JR.
Kris Gafney: Weaponized thickness has entered the chat.
[Sythe pulls himself upright in the corner, furious now, and Ziggy charges in. Sythe moves at the last second, sending Ziggy chest first into the turnbuckles. Sythe pounces immediately, driving a knee into Ziggy’s ribs and then hammering clubbing blows across the back. He turns Ziggy around and rakes a forearm across the face, grinding until the referee reaches four. Sythe breaks with a smug smile, then snaps a kick into Ziggy’s midsection and drops him with a swinging neckbreaker out of the corner. Sythe covers with a forearm pressed across Ziggy’s cheek. One. Two. Ziggy kicks out.]
Jim Ross: That is where Sythe is so dangerous. One missed charge and he turns the match ugly.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Ugly wins, JR. Pretty loses with good lighting.
Kris Gafney: Sythe just dimmed the mood and raised the deductible.
[Sythe slows things down with a grounded chinlock, knee planted between Ziggy’s shoulders as he wrenches backward. Ziggy grimaces and reaches for the ropes, but Sythe drags him back toward center and leans harder, talking trash into his ear. The crowd starts clapping in rhythm. Ziggy plants one hand, then a knee, then forces himself up while Sythe tries to hang on. Ziggy throws an elbow to the ribs, then another, and a third finally breaks the hold. Sythe swings a clothesline, but Ziggy ducks it and rebounds off the ropes with a leaping crossbody that crushes Sythe to the mat. Ziggy stays on top for the cover. One. Two. Sythe kicks out.]
Jim Ross: Ziggy fought out and nearly stole it right there.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Nearly stealing something still gets you nothing but disappointment.
Kris Gafney: Two count with a side of hope. Hope is not filling.
[Ziggy rises first and shakes life back into his neck. Sythe gets to one knee, and Ziggy hits him with a chop that echoes. Sythe answers with a forearm. Ziggy fires another chop. Sythe goes to the eyes with a quick rake while the referee is slightly screened, drawing boos from the crowd. He follows with a knee lift and a snap suplex, floating into another cover. One. Two. Ziggy powers out again, this time with enough force to shove Sythe off balance. Sythe looks irritated and drags Ziggy toward the ropes, placing his throat across the middle strand and leaning down with all his weight. The referee counts, and Sythe releases at four, holding his hands up like he has done nothing wrong.]
Jim Ross: I do not like that at all. Sythe is bending the rules because he knows he cannot keep Ziggy down cleanly yet.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: The rules bend for a reason, JR. They are flexible.
Kris Gafney: So are pool noodles. Does not mean you build a house with them.
[Sythe backs away and charges, looking to drop his weight across Ziggy’s back while he is tangled in the ropes. Ziggy moves at the last instant and Sythe crashes chest first across the middle rope. Sythe bounces backward, gasping, and Ziggy catches him with a big belly-to-belly suplex that brings the crowd to its feet. Both men are down, but Ziggy starts rolling his shoulders and feeding off the noise. He rises and waits as Sythe stumbles up. Ziggy lands a clothesline, then another, then whips Sythe to the ropes and plants him with a spinning side slam. Ziggy hooks the leg. One. Two. Sythe barely gets a shoulder up.]
Jim Ross: Ziggy Thickness is building momentum now.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Sythe needs to cut him off fast before this turns into a party.
Kris Gafney: Too late. Somebody already brought snacks.
[Ziggy pulls Sythe up and signals for the end, but Sythe panics and snaps a jawbreaker that stuns him. Sythe then hits the ropes and connects with a running boot to the side of the head, dropping Ziggy to one knee. Sythe grabs the head and looks for a DDT, but Ziggy blocks it with raw strength, wrapping both arms around Sythe’s waist. Sythe hammers at the back, trying to break free, but Ziggy lifts him and drives him into the corner spine first. Sythe staggers out, and Ziggy catches him with a pop-up flapjack that sends him crashing face first into the canvas. The crowd erupts as Ziggy pops to his feet with a roar.]
Jim Ross: Great power counter by Ziggy. Sythe thought he had the opening and Ziggy slammed it shut.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That was a door, a lock, and a deadbolt.
Kris Gafney: Sythe just met the welcome mat face first.
[Sythe tries to crawl toward the ropes, but Ziggy drags him back to center by the ankle. Sythe kicks upward, catching Ziggy in the chest, then scrambles to his feet and rushes with desperation. Ziggy ducks under the wild strike, catches Sythe on the rebound, and hoists him onto his shoulders. The crowd rises as Ziggy turns once at center ring, then plants Sythe with the Thicc-end, Sythe sprawled flat. Ziggy wastes no time, dropping across the chest and hooking the far leg tight on on Sythe .]
Jim Ross: Thicc-End! Ziggy hit it clean!
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Sythe got flattened like yesterday’s pancake.
Kris Gafney: Thickness achieved maximum density.
[The referee slides into position. One. Two. Three.]
JR-Travis Vortex ability should be an interesting puzzle for Patrick to solve.
King-Even he solves, it’ll probably changed somehow.
Kris Gaffney-Never can pin down him down.
[div align="center"][video][/bbvideo][/align]
The arena lights dim, and the opening beats of NSYNC's "Bye Bye Bye" blast through the speakers. As soon as the first note hits, bright spotlights flash in sync with the music, and a thick cloud of smoke rises from the stage. The crowd immediately erupts in a mix of cheers and laughter, knowing they’re in for something special. As the beat drops, multicolored fireworks explode around the stage, and through the smoke, Patrick Payne bursts out, dancing his way onto the stage like he’s straight out of a 90s boy band video. Patrick starts hitting the iconic "Bye Bye Bye" choreography, exaggerated and dripping with his own flavor. He smirks at the camera, pointing at random fans in the crowd, and moving with the beat like he’s starring in his own music video. He stops midway down the ramp, faking a pause, and then launches back into the dance, arms waving and hips moving as the crowd sings along to the chorus.
EMF Ring Announcer: From wherever he damn well pleases, standing 6 feet 1 inch tall, weighing in at 210 pounds he is the unpredictable, the unstoppable, Patrick ˜The PP Express Payne!!!
As the music continues, the lights flash in rhythm, and Patrick slides into the spotlight, twirling and dipping to the beat. Nearing the ring, he stops for a second, tilts his head toward the camera, and breaks into a final burst of the dance, fully embracing the ridiculousness of it all. Without breaking his flow, he leaps over the top rope with a fluid, acrobatic jump, landing in a perfect roll before bouncing right back into the Bye Bye Bye dance inside the ring. Patrick moves effortlessly, finishing his routine by running up the turnbuckle, arms wide, and executing a picture-perfect backflip off the top rope. As his feet hit the mat, he drops into a flawless superhero landing, kneeling down, one fist on the ground, with a cocky grin stretched across his face. He rises slowly, arms outstretched, soaking in the crowd’s reaction, while the music fades and the lights settle back to normal. The camera zooms in as Patrick winks at the audience, mouthing, "You’re welcome!" before leaning casually against the ropes, waiting for his match to begin.
[Lights throughout the arena dim to near darkness, creating an atmosphere of suspense and anticipation. Suddenly, the sound of ticking clocks and whirring gears fills the air, building a sense of intrigue.]
[The entrance ramp and ring are illuminated with swirling lights that mimic the flow of time - colors shifting rapidly as if moving through different eras. Fog machines generate a thick mist across the ramp, adding to the mystical and otherworldly ambiance.]
[From the back emerges "Temporal" Travis Vortex, adorned in his eclectic time-traveler’s gear, with his crucial timepiece prominently displayed. He moves with a confident swagger, occasionally pausing as if momentarily disoriented or lost in time, adding to his eccentric character.]
[As the theme song "Time Has Come Today" by The Chambers Brothers plays, Travis interacts with the audience, sometimes pointing at his watch and gesturing wildly as if explaining a complex theory or a fragment of his latest adventure. His nephew, "Chrono" Charlie Quantum, follows, carrying the precious timepiece and trying to ensure Travis stays on track.]
Beautiful female announcer: "Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the enigma of eras, standing at 6’1” and weighing 210 pounds, the master of temporal tides... Temporal Travis Vortex!"
[Travis makes his way to the ring amidst the vibrant light show, with the fog swirling around him, creating an image of him stepping out of a time portal. Upon reaching the ring, he takes a moment to theatrically adjust his imaginary wristwatch, then leaps onto the apron and over the ropes with agility.]
[Once in the ring, Travis engages the crowd with charismatic gestures, occasionally slipping into his character's erratic mannerisms, while Charlie Quantum stands by, holding the timepiece and watching with a mix of amusement and concern.]
[The lights gradually stabilize as Travis's music fades, leaving him in the ring, ready to face his opponent in a match that promises to be as unpredictable and entertaining as his entrance.]
JR-Patrick Payne has experience in the big matches along with his talent.
King-Plus he does have the power of friendship.
Kris Gaffney-Always formable.
[Travis Vortex and Patrick Payne pace around the ring, they lock up, and then he connects with a knee lift on Patrick Payne, and Travis Vortex is able to whip Patrick Payne to the ropes, and he bounces off of the ropes. Travis Vortex connects with a hip toss that sends him flying through the air, and he crashes into the mat. Patrick Payne gets up to his feet. Travis Vortex connects with a hurricanarana that sends Patrick Payne flying across the ring to complete the Time Twist. Patrick Payne is slow to get up to his feet, and once he gets up to his feet. Patrick Payne hits a kick ot the gut, and he hits an impaler DDT into the mat. Travis Vortex goes into the cover on Patrick Payne, the ref goes into position to make the count. The ref counts 1………..2…..KICK OUT by Patrick Payne!!]
JR-Travis Vortex so far has remained in control.
King-Bet Patrick Payne wished he had a time machine.
Kris Gaffney-And yet he’s facing someone who does have one!
[Travis Vortex picks up Patrick Payne, and he scoops him up, and Patrick Payne slides out of the back of Travis Vortex. Patrick Payne pushes Travis Vortex to the ropes. Patrick Payne bounces off of the ropes. Patrick Payne connects with a one man flap jack that puts down Travis Vortex. Travis Vortex is slow to get up t his feet. Patrick Payne rises up, and he lifts him up, and he drops him with a whiplash spine buster. Patrick Payne falls on the ropes, and he takes a few moments to rest up. Patrick Payne is slow to get up to his feet, and once he gets up to his feet. Patrick Payne runs towards Patrick Payne connects with a swinging DDT off of the ropes. Patrick Payne goes up to the top rope, and he connects with the flight risk!! Patrick Payne goes into the cover on Travis Vortex, the ref goes into position to make the count. The ref counts 1………….2……….KICK OUT!!]
JR-Patrick Payne has turned the tide of this match.
King-He’ll have to figure out how to use that advantage.
Kris Gaffney-That’s always the question.
[Patrick Payne hits a kick to the gut, and he sets up Travis Vortex, but Travis Vortex rolls up Patrick Payne into a small package pin on Travis Vortex. The ref goes into position to make count , the ref counts 1……………2…………..3!!]
JR-Travis Vortex gets the victory!
(“The duck song” blasts on the PA system. Walter Melon and Jack Heyman walk out on the stage, suddenly Ashley Irvine slides down a rope hanging upside down, she yells WATERMELON to Walter Melon!! She climbs back up upside down, Walter Melon shakes his head, and Walter Melon walks down to the ring, and he steps inside of the ring.)
JR-Walter Melon is looking to bounce back after Whiplash.
King-I think the Melon Gods already smited Tony…there is that.
Kris Gaffney-Guess so..
(Animal sounds echo the arena when the lights go black. The lights turn on green and an image of a giant alligator moves up the ramp, when it gets to the top it bites down, fireworks shoot from the sage and from up in the rafters comes sliding Aari Maxwell comes sliding down. Once close enough he unclips himself, lands in the ring, rolls, jumps up ontop of the ring post and shouts "CRIKEY!" To the fans with his arms out. He jumps, springs off of the rope and does a backflip landing on his feet. Aari "The Zoo Keeper, slides into his corner, bends down wrapping his arms around the ropes with his back on the post smiling as he waits for the match to begin.)
JR-Aari Maxwell is a member of a few Badd Men.
King-Now he’s in for a Badd situation.
[Walter Melon and Aari Maxwell pace around the ring, they lock up. Walter Melon ducks under, and he puts him into a side head lock. Aari Maxwell backs him up. Aari Maxwell whips Walter Melon off of the ropes, and he connects with a shoulder block that puts down Aari Maxwell. Walter Melon is slow to get up to his feet, once he gets up to his feet. Walter Melon connects with a body slam. Aari Maxwell is in pain and he is slow to get up to his feet, and Aari Maxwell gets dropped with the spitting seeds. Walter Melon goes into the cover on Aari Maxwell. The ref goes into position to make the count, the ref counts 1…………..2……KICK OUT by Aari Maxwell. Walter Melon connects with a few stomps on the downed Aari Maxwell.]
JR-Aari Maxwell has attempted to gain control, but so far Walter has not allowed that at all.
King-Well, he didn’t really think he had a chance against GOD, did he?
Kris Gaffney-Yeah…if only he didn’t consider that…
[Aari Maxwell gets picked up by Walter Melon, but he slides out of the back. Aari Maxwell is able to connect with a reverse jaw breaker as Walter Melon turns around, and then he waits for a moment, and he runs towards the ropes, and he connects with a second connects with a spring board cutter that puts down Walter Melon. Walter Melon is stunned, and Aari Maxwell has to take a few moments to rest up. Walter Melon is slow to get up to his feet, and once he gets up to his feet. Walter Melon gets picks up, and hes dropped with a body slam. Aari Maxwell goes to the outside of the ring, and he climbs up to the top rope, Aari Maxwell connects with a 630 sneton on Walter Melon. Walter Melon goes into the cover on Aari Maxwell. The ref goes itno position to make the count. The ref counts 1…………2……….KICK OUT by Walter Melon!!]
JR-Aari Maxwell hits a few big moves, but Walter Melon was able to weather it.
Kris Gaffney-If you ask King, it probably was destiny.
King-You don’t have to ask me, but yes it is!
[Aari Maxwell waits for Walter Melon to get up to his feet, and once he gets up to his feet. Walter Melon gets lifted up, and dropped with the Gorilla Strength!! Aari Maxwell goes into the cover on Walter Melon. The ref goes into position to make the count, the ref counts 1……….2……..3!!]
JR-Aari Maxwell gets the win.
King-Meaning that the Melon Gods have plans for him JR! I mean they did
(Aari Maxwell celebrates his win as Shockwave goes off the air.)
