CHAPTERS
MATCH
THE RED ROSE
TAELER VIRELLE
vs
THE MISSOURI RIVER AMAZON
SAM TOLSON
SUBMISSION MATCH
The lingering strains of Halestorm’s “Love Bites (So Do I)” reverberate through the venue rafters, fading out over a tense room. Inside the ring, Taeler Virelle stands alone under the house lights, framed in emerald and purple. Down on the ringside floor, her perimeter is established. Two figures draped in heavy black cloaks flank the apron, motionless. Between them stands former referee American Moderator. His posture is unnatural. Locked spine. Zero drift in his stance. A sickly, bioluminescent green glow burns behind his retinas, spider-webbing out across his neck and jawline in pulsing emerald veins that throb like exposed circuit boards.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
The bell rings, but the entrance ramp stays completely empty.
A sudden commotion tears through general admission. Samantha Tolson isn’t using the stage. She cuts directly down the arena aisle, shoving a seated spectator out of a folding steel chair in one violent motion. She rips the steel weapon off the concrete, builds a head of steam, and hurdles the security barricade cleanly.
Inside the ropes, Virelle snaps her head around. She points toward the floor, trying to shout an order to her frontline, but Tolson closes the gap instantly.
CLANG.
Tolson drives the flat edge of the steel chair straight into the gut of the first cloaked witch, doubling her over before bringing the heavy steel down across her spine. The woman collapses in a heap against the raw concrete. The second witch whips around, a feral hiss tearing out of her throat.
CRACK.
A brutal, unmitigated chair shot catches her square between the eyes. She folds backwards onto the floor. Dead weight.
American Moderator raises a single, rigid palm. His jaw drops impossibly wide. A piercing, ungodly shriek tears from his throat—a mechanical, inhuman screech echoing through the building. He marches forward in locked, jerky strides. Tolson doesn’t even blink. She winds up from the hip and swings the steel chair like a baseball bat directly into the side of his skull.
THUD.
Moderator drops instantly, hitting the floor like a sack of cement.
The house audio cuts completely dead. The arena falls dead silent for half a heartbeat before the crowd roars.
Tolson doesn’t look down at the bodies. She wipes sweat from her brow with her forearm, steps deliberately up the steel ring steps, walks the apron, and slides through the middle ropes.
Steel chair in hand. Locked on the Red Rose.
Virelle backpedals instantly, throwing her arms out in frantic protest toward referee Grade Garret.
TAELER VIRELLE: She can’t do that! She can’t bring a chair into the match!
GRADE GARRET: Submission match means no disqualification.
Tolson doesn’t break stride. She stalks down the center of the ring, planting her boots and cocking the steel chair back over her shoulder.
Virelle retreats until her spine smacks the turnbuckle pads in the corner. Trapped. Tolson steps in and unloads a vicious, horizontal swing aimed straight at Virelle’s upper body.
Virelle drops beneath the arc.
CLANG!
The heavy steel crashes flush against the turnbuckle with a deafening ring, rattling the ring posts. Virelle sprints out of the corner toward center canvas, spins on her heel, and throws both hands straight into the air with zero hesitation.
TAELER VIRELLE: I submit!
Tolson whips around, lowering the dented chair to her hip. Her face contorts in pure disgust at the anticlimax.
Grade Garret gives a brief, indifferent shrug, turning toward the timekeeper’s table and waving his arms to call for the bell.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
SAMANTHA TOLSON WINS
SUBMISSION VICTORY
Tolson hurls the chair to the canvas and lunges forward to get her hands on Virelle anyway.
Virelle doesn’t engage. She drops flat onto her stomach and slides beneath the bottom rope, tumbling out to the ringside floor.
On the concrete, the two cloaked figures rise from the floor in unison like black towers. Beside them, American Moderator snaps upright with rigid, unnatural posture, his emerald-tinged gaze locked ahead. The four figures assemble at the base of the aisle and begin a slow retreat up the entrance ramp.
Virelle walks backward up the incline, never taking her eyes off the ring. She pauses mid-stride, raises her fingers to her lips, and blows a deliberate kiss straight toward Tolson.
The opening chords of STARSET’s “Kashmir” blast over the arena PA. Tolson leans between the middle ropes, glaring up the ramp at the departing entourage before turning back to Grade Garret, who is shaking his head.
Sam shrugs her shoulders.
SAMANTHA TOLSON: What? They bring witchcraft. I bring a chair.
SEGMENT
“IT GIRL”
TAYLOR LANDRY
A confident and bubbly “It Girl” Taylor Landry is walking through a hallway backstage followed by her bodyguard Amethyst Caldwell.
“IT GIRL” TAYLOR LANDRY: I’m so glad that you and Lana had a great time in Italy. You earned it but now it’s time to get back to business, girl…
Taylor smirks as the two ladies turn right down another hallway.
“IT GIRL” TAYLOR LANDRY: Now that I got my insurance policy back with me now it’s time to grace everyone in PCW with my presence and that includes you Josslyn Spencer.
Taylor glances over at Amethyst and chuckles.
“IT GIRL” TAYLOR LANDRY: People like you amuse me. You’ve got it in your head that you’re more important than you actually are just because you have friends like Jason Cashe…I don’t hate to let you know that you’re truly not important at all. Deep down in your heart I think you know that, Joss, and you’ll be just another person I’ll leave in my wake. Because nothing or nobody will stop VilaroFit from ascending to the top of PCW!
Taylor and Amethyst walk away.
MATCH
MALIBU’S MOST WANTED
JOSSLYNN SPENCER
vs
VILAROFIT
“IT GIRL”
TAYLOR LANDRY
Amethyst Caldwell stands stationed at ringside, arms folded across her chest just beyond the turnbuckle post as the opening bell rings. Josslynn Spencer circles the perimeter with cold, deadpan focus, locking eyes on Taylor Landry without blinking.
Taylor smirks, flips her hair back over her shoulder, and retreats casually into the ropes to force a separation.
Josslynn steps back. Taylor immediately lunges forward and cracks an open palm across Josslynn’s jaw. SLAP.
Josslynn’s head snaps sideways, but her expression never changes. She steps right into Taylor’s space and unloads. Three stiff, rapid-fire forearms smash flush into Taylor’s face, driving her stumbling backward into the turnbuckles. Josslynn crowds her instantly, driving her shoulder into Taylor’s midsection with three heavy, thudding thrusts.
GARRET: One! Two! Three! Four!
Josslynn disengages cleanly at the count of four, stepping back with hands raised.
Taylor leans against the middle rope, coughing and buying space. The second Garret steps across to monitor the break, Taylor jabs two stiff fingers directly into Josslynn’s eyes.
Josslynn clutches her face. Taylor grips her by the wrist and whips her hard across the ring. Josslynn hits the opposite buckles, and Taylor charges in at full sprint. Josslynn drops low, planting her hands into a crisp cartwheel out of the corner.
THUD. Taylor smashes chest-first into the turnbuckle padding.
Taylor rebounds blindly backward into the center, and Josslynn leaves her feet, drilling a front dropkick straight between Taylor’s shoulder blades. Taylor spills through the middle ropes and crashes onto the floor mats.
Josslynn stands motionless in the ring, watching Taylor drag herself upright near Caldwell. Caldwell leans in, whispers a few words, and offers a steadying pat on the shoulder before stepping back.
Taylor slides back under the bottom rope, immediately grimacing and clutching her lower back while whining to Garret. Josslynn closes in. Taylor instantly bails under the bottom rope again, snatches a water bottle from the apron, and takes a leisurely sip.
GARRET: One! … Two! … Three! … Four! … Five!
Taylor ignores the count completely, letting five full seconds bleed off before even turning toward the ring.
GARRET: Six! … Seven! … Eight!
Taylor rolls back inside. Josslynn is already there. CRACK. Josslynn stomps her boot sole flat across Taylor’s exposed fingers.
Taylor shrieks, snatching her hand back. Josslynn underhooks the arm, locks the waist, and snaps Taylor overhead with a crisp snap suplex, floating over directly into a lateral press.
ONE…
TWO—NO!
Taylor kicks out hard.
Josslynn pulls Taylor up by the hair. At ringside, Caldwell steps up onto the apron steel, forcing Garret to turn and address the intrusion. With the referee’s back turned, Taylor grabs Josslynn’s hair with both fists and yanks her throat-first down across the top cable.
SNAP.
Josslynn stumbles back, clutching her throat. Taylor buries a knee deep into her stomach and whips her sternum-first into the corner turnbuckles. Taylor charges and drives a running knee strike directly into Josslynn’s face, rattling the buckles.
Taylor hooks the leg.
ONE…
TWO…
TWO—NO!
Josslynn thrusts her shoulder off the mat.
Taylor argues the count with Garret. At ringside, Caldwell pounds both palms against the apron with a loud crack, drawing Garret back toward the ropes.
With Garret distracted, Taylor grabs the corner tag rope, wraps it tight around Josslynn’s windpipe, and wrenches backward, choking her out in the corner.
Garret spins back around. Taylor lets go instantly and raises both hands with wide, innocent eyes.
Josslynn stumbles out of the corner, gasping for air. Taylor catches her with a snapmare, then drives a stiff kick flush between her shoulder blades. THWACK.
Taylor struts around the ring, arms outstretched to soak in the heat from the crowd. She drops back over Josslynn into a cover, propping both shins up across the middle rope for leverage.
Garret spots the boots on the cable immediately and halts the count.
GARRET: “Get your feet off the ropes! I’m watching you!”
Taylor argues the call, then turns to drag Josslynn up by the collar. Josslynn drops her weight and snaps Taylor’s chin down across her shoulder with a sharp jawbreaker.
Taylor stumbles back, dazed. Josslynn kips up to her feet. Taylor lunges blindly, and Josslynn scoops her around the waist, spinning her through before driving her skull into the canvas with a TILT-A-WHIRL DDT!
Josslynn hooks the leg.
ONE…
TWO…
THR—NO!
Taylor gets her shoulder up just in time.
Josslynn hauls Taylor to her feet and whips her toward the corner. Josslynn charges in, but Taylor drops flat, sliding under the bottom rope out to the apron.
Wobbly, Taylor uses the ropes to pull herself upright. As Josslynn turns, Taylor slingshots over the top cable, catches Josslynn around the waist in mid-air, and drags her down into a sunset flip!
ONE…
TWO—NO!
Josslynn kicks out with force, rolling through her momentum straight back to her feet!
Both competitors scramble up together. Taylor reacts a split-second quicker, planting her foot on Josslynn’s thigh and whipping her heel into Josslynn’s temple with KICKSTART (Step-up Enziguri)!
CLACK.
Josslynn drops to the mat. Shaking off the lingering shock of the DDT, Taylor drops down and hooks the leg.
ONE…
TWO…
TWO—NO!
Josslynn gets the shoulder up again.
Taylor pulls Josslynn up by the wrist, bends her forward, vaults over her shoulders, hooks her legs under the arms, and drives her spine-first into the canvas—TAYDROP (Code Red)!
Taylor bridges back on the cover!
ONE…
TWO…
THR—NO!
Josslynn violently thrusts her shoulder into the air just before the three-count!
Taylor collapses to her knees, screaming at the official and slapping both palms against the canvas in frustration.
Garret ignores the tantrum. Taylor, in a huff, hauls Josslynn off the canvas and dragging her to the center of the ring. She drops to her knees, clamping on a grounded rear chinlock and driving her forearm bone deep across Josslynn’s jawline.
Josslynn grinds her teeth, feeling the pressure. A rhythmic pulse of clapping builds from the front rows. Josslynn digs her toes into the canvas, fighting upward inch by inch until she reaches her feet. She drives two sharp elbows back into Taylor’s ribs.
The grip loosens. Josslynn breaks into a sprint against the ropes. On the rebound, Taylor pivots on her plant foot and whips a vicious spinning heel kick into Josslynn’s jaw.
THWACK.
Josslynn drops flat. Taylor hooks the far leg.
ONE…
TWO—NO!
Josslynn thrusts a shoulder up.
Taylor drags Josslynn up by the shirt collar and whips her hard across the ring. Josslynn hits the corner buckles, and Taylor charges in recklessly. Josslynn throws a stiff right boot straight up, catching Taylor flush across the bridge of the nose.
Taylor stumbles back, clutching her face. Josslynn explodes out of the corner, driving both knees straight into Taylor’s sternum with a running double knee strike that turns her inside out.
Taylor hits the canvas hard. Josslynn hooks the leg.
ONE…
TWO…
TWO—NO!
Taylor kicks out with authority.
Josslynn stays on the throttle. She hauls Taylor up, whips her toward the cables, and meets the rebound with a lightning-fast cartwheel hurricanrana that sends Taylor flipping through the air and crashing across the ring.
Taylor scrambles up to her hands and knees, dazed. Josslynn stalks her, measures the distance, and whips her right leg around with MOST WANTED (Heel Kick)!
CRACK. Boot leather meets temple. Taylor collapses.
Josslynn drops into the cover.
ONE…
TWO…
THR—NO!
Taylor gets a desperate shoulder up at the last fraction of a second.
Josslynn’s face remains completely blank. She grabs Taylor by the wrist and pulls her off the mat. As she lifts, Taylor lunges forward with both hands, gripping Josslynn’s shorts and violently hurling her face-first into the top turnbuckle pad.
THUD.
Josslynn reels backward toward the ropes. Taylor charges and drives a low dropkick directly into the side of Josslynn’s right knee.
SNAP. The joint buckles violently.
Taylor swarms the compromised leg, driving three stiff, targeted kicks straight into the knee joint. She drags Josslynn toward the perimeter and drapes the hyper-extended leg over the bottom rope. Taylor steps out to the apron, grabs the top cable, springs upward, and drops her entire body weight down across the trapped joint with a slingshot leg drop.
GARRET: Get her off the ropes! Break it up!
Taylor rolls off, backing away with a smirk.
Josslynn struggles up, putting no weight on her right foot. Taylor swoops in from behind and drives a chop block straight through the back of the injured knee. Josslynn crashes face-down.
Taylor pries Josslynn’s legs apart, stomps the exposed inner thigh, hooks the ankles, and sits back into an inverted surfboard. She wrenches back, torquing the spine and shredding the right knee in one brutal hold.
Garret drops down, checking on Josslynn’s condition. Malibu’s Most Wanted grits her teeth, her face fixed in cold, controlled agony.
The crowd pounds on the barricades, chanting Josslynn’s name. Josslynn plants her forearms, shifts her center of gravity, rolls her hips over, and kicks Taylor hard in the chest to break free.
Taylor scrambles to her feet first and throws a wild clothesline. Josslynn ducks underneath, snaps a front facelock around Taylor’s neck, and drives her head-first into the canvas—BLACKLISTED (Snap DDT)!
BANG.
Both wrestlers collapse, motionless on the mat.
GARRET: One! … Two! … Three! … Four!
Josslynn reaches out, pulling herself toward the ropes. She uses the bottom and middle cables to hoist herself up, visibly favoring her damaged right leg. Taylor rises across the ring, clutching her neck.
Taylor charges in blindly. Josslynn sidesteps on her good leg, grabbing Taylor by the hair and sending her shoulder-first into the steel ring post.
CLANG.
Taylor ricochets backward, holding her separated shoulder. Josslynn drops flat, isolating the limb and wrenching back on a snap applied armbar.
Taylor screams, clawing wildly at the canvas and dragging her body toward the ropes.
At ringside, Caldwell steps up onto the ring apron, shouting directly at Garret. Garret turns immediately to back Caldwell down.
With Garret’s back turned, Taylor reaches down with her free hand, digs her fingers into Josslynn’s injured right knee, and wrenches the joint sideways with everything she has.
Josslynn lets go, gasping in pain.
Garret spins back around as Caldwell drops to the floor. Taylor rolls away holding her shoulder while Josslynn sits clutching her knee.
Taylor scrambles up, desperate. She drags Josslynn toward the corner turnbuckle, folding her forward at the waist so Josslynn is bent over, facing the center. Taylor scales the middle rope behind her, setting the grip for CALIFORNIA VACATION (Panama Sunrise)—
Josslynn drives a heavy elbow straight back into Taylor’s ribs!
The hold breaks. Josslynn pushes herself upright on the turnbuckle and shoves Taylor backward, sending her crashing hard to the canvas.
Josslynn drops down, fighting the stabbing pain in her leg, and hauls Taylor up to a kneeling position. She takes two limping steps back, rebounds off the ropes, and leaps over Taylor’s neck—RUNNING BLOCKBUSTER (Kneeled opponent)!
THUD. Taylor’s skull snaps against the canvas.
Josslynn hooks the leg.
ONE…
TWO…
THR—NO!
Taylor kicks out by a millimeter. A collective gasp ripples through the building.
Josslynn sits up, staring through the official with cold eyes. She pulls Taylor up by the hair and drags her toward the corner, slipping behind to lock the head for DEAD END (Backstabber)—
Taylor grabs the middle rope with both hands, clinging to the steel cable.
Josslynn yanks with all her weight, tearing Taylor off the ropes. As she comes free, Taylor spins on her heel and unleashes a desperate, lightning-fast superkick straight to Josslynn’s jaw!
CRACK.
Both competitors crash to the canvas, completely limp.
GARRET: One! … Two! … Three! … Four! … Five!
As the count reaches six, both women push up onto their hands and knees, locking eyes across the canvas. Taylor shoves herself upright first, grimacing as she shakes the stiffness from her injured shoulder. Josslynn uses the ropes to pull herself to a stand, putting all her weight onto her left side to protect the damaged right knee. Taylor charges in with a heavy clothesline.
Josslynn ducks underneath. She leaves her feet and snaps a FRONT DROPKICK straight off her good left boot into Taylor’s sternum.
Taylor stumbles back into the ropes. Josslynn hauls her up and whips her across the ring into the turnbuckles. Josslynn hobbles in for a running elbow, but Taylor shoots a sharp knee straight into Josslynn’s face. Taylor hooks the head, snaps her over with a vertical suplex, and floats over into a cover.
ONE…
TWO—NO!
Josslynn powers the shoulder up. Taylor mounts her instantly, driving three bare-knuckle rights straight into the side of Josslynn’s skull. THUD. THUD. THUD. Taylor scrambles to her feet, screaming at the official.
TAYLOR: Count faster!
Taylor drags Josslynn to the corner, hoisting her up onto the top turnbuckle to set the hooks for a superplex. Taylor climbs to the top rope. Josslynn fires back with both palms, shoving Taylor off the turnbuckle. Taylor crashes hard onto the canvas, clutching her separated shoulder.
Josslynn steadies herself on the top cable, wincing visibly as she sets her weight on the damaged knee. She launches off into the air with a diving crossbody.
Taylor catches her in mid-air, rolling through the momentum to stand while clutching Josslynn’s waist. Before Taylor can plant her feet, Josslynn leaps over Taylor’s shoulders, hooks her legs under the arms, and drives her spine-first into the canvas—SILENT TREATMENT (Code Red)!
Josslynn hooks the legs and bridges back.
ONE…
TWO…
THR—NO!
Taylor thrusts a shoulder into the air at the final fraction of a second. Josslynn collapses backward off the cover, chest heaving for air.
Josslynn forces herself upright, dragging Taylor by the wrist, and slips behind to lock the neck for DEAD END (Backstabber)—
Taylor drives a sharp elbow back into Josslynn’s jaw. She spins, hooks a front facelock, and sets up TWICE AS NICE (Insult to Injury)!
Taylor drops both knees hard across Josslynn’s stomach, executes a rapid backflip, and crashes down with a second double knee drop straight into the midsection.
Taylor hooks both legs for a deep cover.
ONE…
TWO…
THR—NO!
Josslynn kicks out hard. Taylor shrieks in disbelief, glaring up at Garret.
Taylor yanks Josslynn up by the hair and whips her across the ring. Josslynn reverses the momentum, sending Taylor into the ropes. On the rebound, Josslynn scoops Taylor for a tilt-a-whirl, but Taylor grabs a fistful of Josslynn’s shorts in mid-spin, dragging her down hard and awkwardly onto her tailbone.
Taylor stomps Josslynn’s stomach once, grabs her wrist, and yanks her up, whipping her hard toward the corner buckles. Taylor sprints in behind for a running forearm smash. Josslynn sidesteps at the final fraction of a second.
THUD. Taylor smashes chest-first into the turnbuckle pad.
Taylor staggers blindly backward. Josslynn catches her in a front facelock and plants her skull into the canvas with a snapping, crisp DDT.
Josslynn rolls Taylor onto her back and hooks the far leg.
Before Garret can drop down to count, Caldwell reaches under the bottom rope, grabs Garret’s ankle, and yanks him off balance.
Garret stumbles, catches the ropes, and spins around to bark furiously through the cables.
GARRET: Keep your hands off me! Get down off the apron!
In the center of the ring, Josslynn holds the cover with no official count. The crowd takes it over in unison.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
FI—!
Taylor throws a lazy, exhausted shoulder up at the last split-second to break the hold.
Josslynn rises immediately, limping over to Garret, and grabs him by the shoulder, spinning him around to protest the lost count.
Behind them, Taylor pushes off the mat, wobbling on unsteady legs. Taylor grinds her teeth, locks eyes on Josslynn’s back, and charges forward, swinging a desperate, wide-arcing CHICK KICK—
Josslynn drops flat to the canvas.
The full force of the kick sails clean over Josslynn and connects flush across the jaw of referee Grady Garret.
SMACK.
Garret’s head snaps back from the impact. The PCW Legend, considered one of the toughest men to ever set foot inside a wrestling ring, doesn’t go down. He stands stone-still, absorbing the blow, his eyes peeling wide with cold, lethal fury.
Garret locks his gaze directly on Taylor, throws both arms overhead, and signals emphatically for the disqualification.
DING-DING-DING.
JOSSLYNN SPENCER WINS
DISQUALIFICATION VICTORY
Garret pushes past Taylor and points down at Josslynn. Josslynn drags herself upright against the ropes, clutching her damaged right knee, her face hard and drained from the toll of the match. Garret takes her wrist and hoists her arm into the air. Josslynn nods once, breathing heavily through her teeth.
Taylor sits frozen on the canvas, staring at the referee in absolute disbelief before slapping the mat in sheer rage. Caldwell steps up to the ropes, barking at the official, while Taylor pulls herself up, vents furiously at the crowd through the cables, and then marches straight back into the center of the ring.
The bell clangs repeatedly in rapid succession, but Taylor stands frozen in the center of the ring, jaw slack, staring in total disbelief at Garret’s raised arms.
Garret thrusts a stiff, warning finger directly into Taylor’s face, turns on his heel, and steps through the ropes, still seething with rage.
Taylor snaps. The disbelief rots instantly into an unhinged temper tantrum. She stomps both boots into the canvas, shrieks at the front row, lunges for the nearest turnbuckle, and rips the vinyl pad completely off the steel ring, hurling it across the ring.
Across the way, Josslynn leans lazily back against the ropes in the opposite corner, arms draped over the cables, laughing right in Taylor’s face.
Taylor catches the sound. Her head jerks sideways, eyes wild. With a high-pitched scream, Taylor charges across the ring and hurls herself at Josslynn.
They collide chest-to-chest and crash violently to the canvas, rolling across the mat in a flurry of wild, bare-knuckle strikes.
There is no wrestling left here. Just raw, chaotic malice. Taylor buries both hands into Josslynn’s hair, yanking her scalp back toward the mat. Josslynn doesn’t flinch—she clamps her jaw down and sinks her teeth deep into the meat of Taylor’s exposed forearm.
Taylor shrieks in agony. The two women roll over and over in a thrashing knot of limbs, fists, and teeth.
Garret scrambles back through the ropes, barking and diving between them to wedge the brawl apart.
Behind Garret’s back, Amethyst Caldwell slides under the bottom rope. She stays low, sprints across the ring, hits the far cables, and rebounds with explosive speed.
Caldwell barrels straight through Garret’s spine with THE POUNCE!
CRASH.
The referee is launched forward, skipping hard across the canvas and crashing dead into the bottom turnbuckle.
Caldwell steps over the official, reaches down, and grabs Josslynn by the collar of her shirt. With raw power, Caldwell rips Josslynn off Taylor and hurls her across the ring like a ragdoll straight into the turnbuckles.
Taylor scrambles up to her knees, breathing in ragged gasps. She spots Josslynn cornered on the canvas, crawls forward, mounts her chest, and unloads a frantic, unhinged barrage of hammerfists down into Josslynn’s face.
A sudden surge of noise cuts through the arena. The crowd rises to its feet, the roar swelling into a deafening roar as a figure sprints down the entrance ramp.
Alyssa Knight-Kekoa hits the ringside mats at a dead sprint, a steel folding chair clutched tight in both hands. She slides smooth under the bottom cable, stepping right into the blind spot behind Landry and Caldwell.
Alyssa rises, rears back with the steel, and unloads a full-body swing straight across Caldwell’s broad back.
CLANG.
The sound echoes off the arena rafters. Caldwell’s entire frame stiffens, muscles locking under the impact—but she doesn’t fall. The bodyguard turns around slowly, eyes blazing with murder.
Alyssa doesn’t hesitate. She pulls the chair back and smashes the flat steel straight down over Caldwell’s skull.
CRACK.
Caldwell’s knees give out. She collapses face-first into the canvas, out cold.
Taylor freezes at the crack of steel. She spins on her knees, looks up, and her jaw drops. Alyssa stands directly above Caldwell’s limp body, chair gripped in one hand, wearing a cold, venomous smile.
Taylor scrambles backward on her knees, throwing both hands up, palms open, frantically pleading for mercy.
Alyssa tilts her head, pausing as if weighing the offer.
Behind Taylor, Josslynn is already back on her feet. Josslynn steps back, rebounds off the far ropes with clean momentum, leaps into the air, and drives the sole of her boot straight through the back of Taylor’s skull—MALIBU’S MOST WANTED (Curb Stomp)!
THUD.
Taylor’s face smashes flush into the mat, her body going completely limp.
The crowd erupts into a roar.
Josslynn steps over the wreckage and looks up. She meets Alyssa’s gaze. Neither woman smiles, but they share a single, firm nod of mutual respect before locking hands in the center of the ring.
Alyssa looks down at Taylor’s motionless body, leans in close, and smirks.
ALYSSA: We have unfinished business.
SEGMENT
THE V.I.P.
CHRIS MOSH
The V.I.P Chris Mosh walks into the arena. He is dressed in a three piece purple suit with match slacks and a pair of purple dress shoes as he gets stopped by the cameras as he just smirks.
MOSH: Oh look you want to know about tonight with the big bad wolf Kleki.
Mosh laughs.
MOSH: You see the reason why I attacked him, why I took him out. He thinks he is bad and I’m here to prove that he is not. Not only that but he needs a threat to his Asylum Championship and that is me.
Mosh points at himself
MOSH: See Aleki, I’m a former Unleashed Champion, I am a current champion in another company right now as well. See Aleki, I’m not scared of you, like the rest of this roster. I’m ok with going face to face to you and taking that championship from you to add another championship to my accomplishments.
Mosh smirks.
MOSH: Aleki thinks he has this in the bag but he doesn’t know that, we don’t even know what kind of match we are going into, hell, it can be my favorite match, it can be my advantage of match and be running circles around you before you even know what happened, just like I did last show when I laid you out. See Aleki, I’m the true and only V.I.P of Wrestling and I’m going to show you why, when I beat you and become the New Asylum Championship, so get ready because I’m going to add this title to my collection.
Mosh smirks as winks at the camera.
MOSH: See you tonight. Mosh Out
Chris Mosh walks the rest of the way into the arena as the cameras fade out.
MATCH
THE V.I.P.
CHRIS MOSH
vs
ASYLUM CHAMPION
THE SAMOAN CYBORG
ALEKI KEKOA
ASYLUM RULES
PCW ASYLUM CHAMPIONSHIP
The Asylum wheel spins on the TitanTron. Metal clicks. The arrow slows. Lands hard on FIRST BLOOD.
Referee Stephanie Marshall raises one hand and signals for the bell.
Ding.
Aleki Kekoa stands motionless in the exact center of Ring 1. One fist pressed firm against his chest. Eyes locked forward. No movement. No acknowledgment. Just the Still Point.
Chris Mosh circles wide, staying near the ropes. Boots scuff the mat. He keeps distance, testing the space, smirk already half-formed.
Both men step in. Collar-and-elbow. Hands lock. Shoulders drive. Aleki digs his heels, shifts his weight, and shoves. Mosh’s back hits the turnbuckles hard enough to rattle the pad.
Mosh doesn’t stay. He slips through the ropes, boots finding the adjoining apron, and steps clean into Ring 2. Creates separation. Buys time.
Aleki follows without hurry. One step through the ropes. Then another. He enters Ring 2 like a man walking into a room he already owns.
Mosh shoots low the second Aleki’s feet clear the apron. Single-leg takedown. Clean. He drives through and lands on top, wrapping a front headlock before Aleki can plant.
Aleki doesn’t scramble. He plants a hand, drives his hips up, and rises to his feet with Mosh still attached to his neck. The headlock stays locked. Aleki’s breathing stays measured.
Mosh feels the shift. He releases, slides behind, and cinches a waistlock. One hard lift. Belly-to-back suplex. Aleki’s body turns over and hits the canvas flat. The impact carries.
Aleki rolls both shoulders once. Slow. Deliberate. He stands.
Mosh backs toward the corner, hands on the ropes, pulling himself upright. Aleki walks forward. No rush. One heavy forearm loads and drives across Mosh’s jaw. The sound is thick. Mosh’s head snaps sideways.
Aleki keeps him pinned in the corner. Two short, heavy shoulder thrusts bury into the midsection. Air leaves Mosh’s lungs in a sharp burst. Aleki grabs a wrist, steps aside, and sends him across the ring toward the far corner.
Mosh reverses mid-whip. Aleki’s chest meets the turnbuckle pads full force. The impact folds him for half a second.
Mosh charges. One step. Two.
SUPERKICK (Superkick)!
The sole of the boot finds the side of Aleki’s head. Aleki staggers out of the corner. Legs unsteady. He does not go down.
Mosh hooks both arms, looking for the double underhook. He starts to hoist for the MOSH PIT (Vertebreaker)—
Aleki drops his weight and backdropps. Mosh flies high and lands hard. The hold is gone.
Mosh doesn’t stay to trade. He rolls under the bottom rope and drops to the arena floor. On one knee he reaches under the apron, pulls a steel chair free, and slides it into Ring 2. Metal scrapes across the mat.
He stays outside. Breathing. Watching.
Mosh climbs back onto the apron and steps through the ropes into Ring 2. He picks the steel chair up off the canvas, grips both edges, and swings it horizontal at Aleki’s head.
Aleki ducks. The chair misses and smashes full force into the exposed metal of the turnbuckle post. The shock travels straight up the steel. Mosh drops the chair like it burned him and yells, shaking both hands, fingers already swelling.
Aleki steps in. One heavy forearm drives into the center of Mosh’s chest and backs him up. Space opens. Aleki takes two short steps, accelerates, and launches.
MY VERDICT (Running Front Dropkick)!
Both boots hit square in the sternum. Mosh’s body folds. He collapses to the mat, then rolls desperately under the bottom rope, dragging himself across the adjoining center aprons and into Ring 1.
Aleki follows without rush. One measured step across the aprons. Then through the ropes into the first ring.
Mosh is already reaching into his tights. Brass knuckles slide over the fingers of his right hand. The second Aleki clears the ropes, Mosh swings a wild, desperate hook aimed straight at the forehead.
Aleki throws both arms up. Thick wrist tape takes the impact. Metal meets tape and bone. No skin splits. The knuckles never reach the flesh.
Aleki clamps a tight wristlock, twists the arm back hard, and wrenches until the brass knuckles clatter free onto the canvas. He keeps the grip, steps behind, and lifts.
German Suplex. Full rotation. Mosh flies across the ring and lands hard on his upper back.
Aleki stands in place. Slow roll of both shoulders. Once. Twice. The impact to his own arm is acknowledged and dismissed.
Mosh sees the gap. He rolls under the bottom rope and slides to the arena floor. Aleki exits after him, boots hitting the floor with purpose. Stalking.
Mosh reaches under the apron, grabs a steel trash can lid, and raises it like a shield. Aleki winds up a heavy right hand. Sees the solid steel. Pulls the strike at the last possible second. Knuckles stay unbroken.
Mosh seizes the hesitation. He thrusts the blunt edge of the lid hard into Aleki’s midsection. The blow drives the air out. No cut. Just wind gone.
Mosh drops the lid and starts backing up the entrance ramp, putting distance between them. Aleki plants both hands on his knees for one breath, then straightens. Eyes lock on Mosh. He begins the measured walk up the ramp. Slow. Deliberate. Closing the space.
Referee Stephanie Marshall stays close behind both men, watching every step.
Aleki pursues Mosh up the entrance ramp. The rings are behind them now. Steel grating under their boots. Distance closes.
Mosh turns. No more running. He meets Aleki head-on. Technical strategy gone. Just fists.
They trade. Heavy, unprotected right hands. One after another. Jaw. Temple. Jaw again. Both men breathe hard. Neither backs up. Sweat and spit fly with every connection.
They both wind up at the same time. Simultaneous flush punches to the jaw.
The double impact drops them both. Hard. Flat on the stage.
A beat of stillness.
Aleki does not rise. Mosh does not rise.
Aleki accelerates from the floor across the stage. Shoulder lowers. He drives through.
The spear hits clean. Momentum carries both men straight off the edge of the stage. They plummet into the production pit below and crash violently through a stacked pile of wooden tables.
HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!
Neither man moves.
Referee Stephanie Marshall leans over the edge, staring down into the wreckage. Crimson is already visible across Aleki’s shoulder and the side of his head. A clear cut. She starts to raise her arm to signal the timekeeper.
Then she sees Mosh.
A long, thin laceration stretches across his forehead. Fresh blood runs freely down his face and into the splintered wood.
Marshall freezes for half a second. Both men are bleeding. Both are eliminated.
She climbs down into the pit, drops to a knee between them, and waves both arms hard toward the timekeeper.
The bell rings.
ALEKI KEKOA RETAINS
BOTH MEN ELIMINATED – FIRST BLOOD
EMTs are already scrambling down the stage scaffolding with bags and backboards. Marshall stays seated in the wreckage between the two unconscious bodies, one hand on each man’s chest, checking for breath while the medics reach them.
Both competitors remain down in the broken tables as the EMTs begin working on them. Neither has moved since the fall.
SEGMENT
TIGRESS
Jenna Jillian Walker walks out of the trainer’s room after being taped up. Warming up just outside the trainer’s room is Hope Russo, Hope Levitt, Morgan LaChance, and Delilah Hart. Jenna smiles and walks over to them.
**JENNA JILLIAN WALKER:**You ready ladies?
Morgan LeChance finished tying her boots, she looks up at Jenna and smiles.
MORGAN LECHANCE: Damn right we are! This is only my second match, and it’s in a cage? That’s right up my alley.
Hope Russo walks past Jenna and gives her a playful pat on the ass and giggles.
HOPE RUSSO: Black Rainbow have run their mouths long enough. I am so sick of them. Tonight, we shut them down. And they will regret ever messing with us.
Jenna’s shaking her head as she looks over at Hope.
**JENNA JILLIAN WALKER:**Hope!, girl, how about you put your hands on those heifers in Black Rainbow instead of touching me in front of Morgan?
Morgan just laughs and shakes her head.
MORGAN LECHANCE: It’s ok babe, she’s just excited. We’re all focused on Black Rainbow, and those titles.
JENNA JILLIAN WALKER: So let’s go out there and do the damn thing! The Hopes and I were so close to becoming the Voodoo Pact Champions but they took the cowards way out. Tonight we rectify that by kicking some major league ass!!!!
HOPE LEVITT: SCHWAY YEAAAAH!
Hope is bouncing on her feet, fists pumped high in the air before she stops as the other girls look towards her. Staring at them, she grins and then throws a few fists, before scowling cutely.
HOPE LEVITT: Black Rainbow is gonna get their HOPES dashed! We got two Hopes and they have NONE!
Hope Levitt grinned and bounced over to Hope Russo, leaping up to hug her from behind with a big grinning smile.
JENNA JILLIAN WALKER: I know all of you in Black Rainbow like to think that you’re tough but you’ll see how tough the Tigress is when you get locked in a cage with us. You’ll find out tough we are in we’re leaving each of you in a puddle of your own blood and with the PCW VooDoo PAC Championships.
MATCH
TIGRESS
JENNA JILLIAN WALKER
MORGAN LECHANCE
HOPE RUSSO
HOPE LEVITT
DELILAH HART
vs
THE BLACK RAINBOW
DATURA
SELENE PYRE
LILY BRIAR
JESSICA PARKER
ROXIE RIPPER
TOTAL WAR
VOODO PACT CHAMPIONSHIP
Steel mesh climbs on all sides of Ring 1, bolted seam to seam into a roof that swallows the lights whole, casting hard shadows across the canvas. There’s no ramp walk left for anyone — no ropes to hide behind and catch a breath outside. Just the cage, and the two rings it’s fused together, and whatever’s about to happen inside it. The crowd’s roar has been building since the house lights first dropped, a low, rolling wave that hasn’t stopped since the structure locked into place.
Beyond the fencing, TIGRESS stands clustered on one side of a barricade of security and referees, fists already balled at their sides. Black Rainbow mirrors them on the other, and dueling chants break out in scattered pockets through the crowd separating them.
Hope Levitt bounces on the balls of her feet, grinning up at the mesh. Across from her, Lily Briar doesn’t blink.
The bell sounds, and the arena erupts.
Levitt is already moving, closing the distance in a blur, leaping into a forearm smash aimed at Lily’s jaw. Lily reads it. Steps back. Levitt sails past her and crashes chest-first into the ropes, the impact snapping her back like a rubber band. The crowd groans on the miss, then roars right back as —
Levitt rebounds off the ropes hard, flying back across the ring, and catches Lily clean with a flying snapmare that drops her to the canvas.
PCW! PCW! PCW!
Lily twists into the mat on instinct, hooking Levitt’s leg and cranking down into a grounded ankle lock. Levitt’s face contorts, and sympathetic gasps ripple through the front rows. She claws at the mat, dragging herself and Lily both toward the ropes inch by inch, and kicks free, the hold breaking clean. The pop that follows is immediate, deafening.
Lily stumbles back and charges in behind a flurry of forearms and open palms, the SUGAR STRIKE (Quick combination of forearms and palm strikes)! rocking Levitt’s head side to side. Levitt plants her feet and fires back with a step-up enziguri that catches Lily flush and sends her stumbling into the turnbuckle. The building shakes with noise.
Levitt charges the corner and leaps, driving both knees into Lily with HERE I COME (Charging Double Knees in Corner)! Lily folds and slides down the padding.
Levitt climbs. Above her, the mesh roof presses close enough to touch. She smiles out at the crowd, feeding off every scream aimed her way.
Lily pops up and yanks Levitt’s leg out from under her. Levitt’s face meets the top turnbuckle pad with a dull, ugly THUD. She crumples, and the crowd’s roar cracks into a single, unified groan.
Lily drags her down to the canvas, threads the arm through, and cranks into the BRIAR LOCK (Cross-arm breaker)! The whole building is on its feet, screaming at Levitt to fight it, to find the ropes.
High above the ring, mounted where every camera and every fan can track it, a digital clock ticks past ten seconds. Two minutes since the bell. A buzzer tears through the arena, and along the cage’s edge, a door built into the mesh groans on its hinges. The crowd’s roar shifts, hungry, waiting on whoever’s coming next.
The cage door on Ring 1’s far edge swings open, and Jessica Parker steps through, boots settling onto the canvas with the same calm she’d bring to a boardroom. Black Rainbow’s got the number now — two bodies against one, and the shift ripples through the crowd, boos and cheers colliding at the barricade.
Lily keeps the BRIAR LOCK (Cross-arm breaker) cinched tight on the mat, Levitt’s arm bent past where it should bend. Jessica doesn’t rush. She circles once, reading the angle, then drives a right kick into Levitt’s ribs.
Levitt’s whole body seizes. Lily lets the arm slip free, retreating a step to let Jessica work.
Levitt scrambles for the ropes on instinct, dragging herself across the canvas by inches. Jessica cuts the path off before she gets there, grabbing a fistful of hair and hauling her upright. She cinches the waist, hoists, and drops her with a slow, deliberate German suplex — no snap to it, just weight and gravity doing the damage.
Levitt hits the mat hard. Jessica kips up clean, boots planted, already turning to find her next target.
Lily springs off the ropes and connects with a springboard dropkick, catching Levitt seated and sending her sprawling. Jessica hauls her back up by the arm and whips her into the cage wall.
The mesh doesn’t give. Levitt’s hairline splits open on impact, and a thin line of red starts tracking down past her ear. A wave of noise crashes through the building — half disgust, half hunger.
Levitt stumbles off the steel and straight into Jessica’s path. Jessica rebounds off the far ropes and levels her with the CLOTHESLINE OF DOOM (Clothesline)! Levitt goes down and stays down for a beat, blood smearing across the canvas beneath her cheek — but her arm still twitches, still fighting to push up.
Lily drops down and locks in a grounded ankle lock near center ring. Jessica paces a slow circle around them, reaching down to grab Levitt’s free arm and wrench it at an angle that isn’t natural, doubling the pressure.
Levitt screams through it, dragging all three of them — inch by inch, gritted teeth and bloody jaw — toward the seam where the two rings meet.
The clock above the structure ticks past ten. Levitt’s fingers stretch out toward the juncture, toward anything.
The buzzer cuts through the arena. Along the mesh, a second door groans open — TIGRESS sending its own reinforcement into the war.
The buzzer blares, and along Ring 2’s edge, the cage door swings wide. Delilah Hart charges through it at a dead run, launching herself up onto the top rope in a single stride and springboarding off into a missile dropkick that catches Jessica Parker flush and drops her flat.
Jessica releases Levitt’s arm on impact, scrambling up to meet the new threat, but Delilah’s already on her — a blistering series of European uppercuts rocking her head back with each shot.
Lily rushes in from the side, swinging a clothesline. Delilah ducks under it clean, hooking Lily into a front facelock with one arm while her other hand closes around Jessica’s throat, and drives them both down together — DDT and Reverse STO landing in the same beat.
Along the barricade, TIGRESS erupts, fists pumping against the guards holding them back. On the opposite side, Selene Pyre and Datura slam open palms against the steel mesh, the sound cracking through the arena like gunfire. Delilah catches the moment, glancing through the cage at her teammates long enough to soak in the noise before turning back to the war in front of her.
Jessica pushes up off the mat. Delilah meets her with VELVET CRUSH (Running Hip attack in the Corner)!, driving her hip into Jessica’s skull and pinning her against the padding. Jessica slides down the turnbuckle, and Delilah drags her limp body to center ring, wrapping her up in the HART BREAKER (Standing Dragon Sleeper).
Lily springs off the mat and cracks a sharp kick into the back of Delilah’s knee, breaking the hold. Delilah drops. Lily seizes the opening, grabbing her by the head and spiking her into the canvas with the TWISTING HEARTBREAKER (Jumping DDT).
Levitt, blood dried in a dark line down her cheek, uses the ropes to springboard directly into a flying snapmare that sends Lily sprawling. She bounces off the ropes to chase the follow-up — but Jessica’s there, timing a leaping cross body that catches Levitt clean out of the air and drops her cold.
Delilah kips up. Jessica’s still turning when the Snap Superkick catches her square in the jaw, and she crumples beside Levitt.
Delilah and Levitt stand in the center of Ring 1, chests heaving, blood and sweat streaked across both of them. Across the ropes, Lily and Jessica pull themselves back toward the far side of Ring 2, putting distance between the two pairs.
The clock ticks down its final seconds, both sides staring each other down across the divide. The buzzer tears through the noise, and somewhere along the mesh, another door groans open — Black Rainbow answering the call.
The buzzer sounds, and the cage door on Ring 1’s edge bursts open. Selene Pyre steps through, chain wrapped loose around one forearm, eyes already locked on Levitt. She doesn’t look at the crowd, doesn’t look at the barricade — just crosses the ring in a straight line and drops Levitt with a high-angle Yakuza kick that sends her crashing back into the steel mesh.
Delilah rushes in to cover her partner. Selene absorbs the forearm smash without flinching, then counters with a short-arm lariat that snaps Delilah’s head back and drops her flat.
Lily and Jessica climb through the center ropes from Ring 2, converging on Levitt’s grounded body and stomping relentlessly into her ribs. Selene grabs Delilah by the arm and whips her hard toward the far side, sending her stumbling through the ropes into Ring 2.
Selene follows, stalking. Delilah pulls herself up and launches a desperate springboard crossbody — Selene catches her clean out of the air, slips behind her, hooks both arms, and drives her head-first into the canvas with the WINTER SOLSTICE (Double Underhook Brainbuster).
No pin attempt. Not in a submission match. Selene drops down and locks in the LUNA LOCK (Fujiwara Armbar with Facial Grind), grinding her forearm across Delilah’s face, cutting off air and vision both.
Back in Ring 1, Levitt drags herself up the turnbuckle, catches Lily with a jawbreaker to create space, and sidesteps Jessica’s spear attempt. She sees Delilah trapped across the divide and scrambles over the ropes, leaping high to drive both feet into Selene’s back with CANDY CRUSH (Mushroom Stomp). The hold breaks. Selene rolls to her feet with a low, animal growl.
Lily and Jessica climb through the ropes from Ring 1, and the three of them slowly encircle Levitt and Delilah in the center of Ring 2.
The clock ticks down its final five seconds. The buzzer cuts through the arena, and along the mesh, another door groans open — TIGRESS answering the call.
The buzzer sounds, and the cage door swings open on Ring 2’s edge. Hope Russo steps through, eyes already fixed on Selene Pyre across the divide. She doesn’t hesitate — charges straight at her, driven by something that isn’t strategy.
Selene sees it coming. She ducks through the center partition ropes and stumbles backward into Ring 1, putting the ropes between them. Russo pursues through the gap, and Selene catches her with a sharp kick to the side of the head as she crosses.
Russo drops to her knees. She doesn’t stay there. She glares up at Selene and starts talking — no filter, no pause, the words coming out raw and cutting. Selene lunges to capitalize. Russo sidesteps and fires back with a step-up enzuigiri that staggers her.
In Ring 2, the shift in attention gives Levitt the opening to catch Lily with a leaping forearm smash. Beside her, Delilah regains her footing and plants Jessica with a snap suplex.
Back in Ring 1, Russo stalks her staggered opponent, sprints to the ropes, and launches into the HALO EFFECT (Springboard Cutter)!, twisting through the air to drive Selene face-first into the canvas.
Russo stands over her, smirking, and blows a kiss down at her.
Selene pushes up off the mat. Blood runs from a split lip and a broken nose, and she wipes it across her teeth with the back of her hand, grinning through it — a low, animal howl building in her throat.
The clock ticks down its final seconds. The buzzer blares, and along the mesh, another door groans open — Black Rainbow sending its next body into the war.
The buzzer rings, and Datura walks toward the cage at her own pace, wiping her boots on the apron before stepping through the door on Ring 1’s side. She pauses just inside the threshold, eyes moving across the battlefield — the blood on the canvas, the way Levitt’s favoring her ribs, the angle of Russo’s arm — reading it all like a chart.
Russo spots her and charges. Datura sidesteps clean, catches the arm mid-swing, and brings her down into a Fujiwara armbar, settling into the hold with the patience of someone who has nowhere else to be.
Selene sits up in the corner, still howling low in her throat, watching Datura work.
In Ring 2, Levitt fights back against the double-team, using her speed to catch Jessica with a flying snapmare. Lily intercepts her momentum with a missile dropkick that sends Levitt tumbling through the partition ropes into Ring 1, crashing to the mat near Datura.
Datura releases Russo’s arm without hesitation and catches Levitt in a Koji Clutch, transitioning between holds like she’s turning a page. No flourish. No cruelty. Just efficiency.
Delilah, the only TIGRESS member still standing in Ring 2, moves to cross over and break it up. Jessica cuts her off with the SHOULDER OF DOOM (Spear), driving her flat to the canvas.
Russo, gasping, dives across the mat and drives a stiff elbow into Datura’s temple, breaking the Koji Clutch on Levitt. Datura disengages clean, rolling back to her feet and out of the center of the ring. She seats herself on the second turnbuckle, watching the damage settle.
Russo lies on the mat, chest heaving. Selene rises from the corner, blood still smeared across her teeth, eyes locked on Russo.
The clock ticks down its final ten seconds. The buzzer sounds, and along the mesh, another door groans open — TIGRESS sending its next body into the war.
The buzzer blares, and the cage door on Ring 2’s side swings open. Jenna Jillian Walker steps through, hands settling on her hips for a single beat before she moves — no wasted motion, no hesitation. She crosses the ring in a straight line.
Jessica swings at her. JJW ducks under it and plants her with a spinebuster that shakes the canvas.
Lily launches off the ropes. JJW catches her mid-air and drives her down with ALL THE WAY UP (Pop Up Powerbomb)!, the impact folding her in half.
Datura steps through the partition ropes from Ring 1, moving to intercept. JJW reads her approach, sidesteps a wild strike, and traps her in the SNAP, CRACKLE, POP (Crossface Chicken Wing), cranking the arm back with cold precision.
Selene scrambles over from Ring 1 and rakes JJW’s eyes, breaking the hold.
JJW’s composure cracks. She grabs Selene around the waist and launches her across the ring with a German suplex that sends her skidding into the far corner. JJW dives on her immediately, cranking back on the PROCESS LOCK (Ankle Lock), wrenching the foot past its natural angle.
Around them, the cage descends into open war.
Levitt has Lily pinned against the steel mesh, trading rapid-fire forearm smashes, blood smearing across Lily’s shoulder with each shot. Levitt blinks sweat and crimson from her eyes, keeps swinging.
In the adjacent corner, Delilah mounts Jessica on the middle rope, raining down punches.
Russo steps through the partition ropes from Ring 1 and tackles Datura to the canvas, the two of them rolling and exchanging ground-and-pound strikes.
The buzzer cuts through the chaos. Along the mesh, the final door groans open — Black Rainbow’s last body entering the war.
The buzzer blares, and Roxie Ripper sprints down the ramp, slipping through the cage door on Ring 1’s side. She doesn’t stop there — scrambles through the partition ropes into Ring 2, leaps onto JJW’s back, and sinks her teeth into her shoulder.
JJW roars, flinging Roxie back and forth, trying to shake her loose. Dark red wells through the fabric of her gear, streaking down her collarbone and upper arm. With a massive heave, JJW flings Roxie off, sending her crashing to the mat.
Roxie pops up immediately, cackling, unfazed.
JJW charges. Roxie ducks and unloads a flurry of open-palm strikes to her chest and ears, the rapid-fire slaps disorienting her.
In Ring 1, Russo and Datura are still locked in their ground-and-pound exchange, ripping at each other on the canvas with no technique left, just animosity.
In Ring 2, Selene — her face and chest painted in a crimson mask — breaks away from the corner brawl, spitting blood, and blindsides Levitt with a short-arm lariat that drops her flat.
Roxie isolates the staggered JJW in the corner, blood from JJW’s torn shoulder smearing across the white turnbuckle pad. She retreats to center ring, spins, and charges, leaping at the last second to slam her hip into JJW’s face with the FENDER-BENDER (Running Hip Attack)!, crushing her skull between hip and steel. Roxie bounces away, giggling, crimson smeared across her cheek.
The clock ticks down its final ten seconds. Black Rainbow’s numbers advantage shows across both rings — TIGRESS bodies down or cornered in every direction.
The buzzer sounds, and along the mesh, the final door groans open — TIGRESS sending its last body into the war.
The buzzer sounds, and Morgan LeChance steps through the cage door on Ring 2’s side. Officials on the outside slam it shut behind her, the lock clicking into place with a finality that cuts through the noise.
A deep bell tolls through the arena. The house lights die completely, leaving only a harsh overhead spotlight cutting down through the darkness to illuminate the structure. Total War has officially begun.
Morgan doesn’t scan the battlefield. She locks onto Roxie Ripper and charges straight past the rest of Black Rainbow, unloading a relentless barrage of kickboxing strikes — kicks, knees, elbows — driving Roxie backward into Ring 1. She grabs Roxie by the hair and grinds her face across the steel mesh, the unforgiving wire scraping skin.
In Ring 2, the remaining eight competitors converge at the center juncture, and a massive strike exchange erupts across the dividing ropes — forearms, kicks, chops flying in every direction.
Selene, her face a full crimson mask, hooks JJW for a suplex over the partition. JJW blocks it, fighting through the pain of the blood still streaking down from the puncture wound on her shoulder. Levitt, sweat and dried blood smeared across her eyes, flies in with a leaping forearm smash to Selene’s face, breaking the grapple.
Datura traps Delilah in an elevated wristlock over the center ropes. Russo intercepts, cracking a backhand chop across Datura’s chest to break the hold.
All eight women collapse against the ropes, battered, gasping, the juncture between the two rings a tangle of limbs and exhaustion.
In Ring 1, Morgan drags Roxie away from the cage wall and levels her with the ZEPHYR KICK (Super Kick)! Roxie crumples hard to the canvas.
Morgan drops down and locks in a seated rear chinlock, wrenching back. Roxie sinks her teeth into Morgan’s forearm, breaking the hold. Morgan reels back, checking the bite marks, as Roxie rolls away toward the corner.
Morgan clutches her bleeding forearm in Ring 1, checking the bite marks. Lily reaches through the partition ropes and yanks her into Ring 2, dragging her into the brawl with Selene and JJW.
In Ring 1, Russo and Datura separate from the chaos at the juncture and resume their ground-and-pound exchange, rolling across the canvas with no technique left. Datura breaks away, rips the padding off a nearby turnbuckle, and grabs Russo by the hair, driving her toward the exposed steel hook.
Russo blocks it, shoving back with everything she has. Both women lose their balance and smash head-first into the bare metal simultaneously. They collapse to the mat, motionless.
In Ring 2, Jessica stalks Delilah from across the ring, then charges forward with the SHOULDER OF DOOM (Spear) aimed through the center partition ropes. Delilah sidesteps at the last second, hooking Jessica’s arm and using her momentum to launch an overhead belly-to-belly suplex. Both women crash spine-first across the unyielding metal juncture beam connecting the two rings.
They roll off the beam and lie motionless on the canvas.
Nearby, JJW hoists Selene up for a powerbomb. Selene rakes her eyes, drops down behind her, and pulls her into a front facelock. She drives JJW’s skull into the canvas with a stiff DDT. JJW goes limp, face-down, out.
Back in Ring 1, Roxie recovers and scales the turnbuckles, setting up for THE BIG TOP (Top-Rope Elbow Drop). She looks down and realizes Levitt is grounded too far away near the center partition.
Roxie snaps her fingers, grinning, and climbs the cage wall instead. She swings bar-by-bar across the ceiling roof, bathed in the strobe of camera flashes from the crowd.
Roxie drops from the ceiling.
Twenty feet of open air between her and the canvas. Her body cuts through the harsh overhead spotlight, elbow extended, hair whipping upward from the velocity. The crowd’s roar peaks into something primal — a single, unified scream of anticipation and horror.
Levitt rolls out of the way at the last second.
Roxie hits the canvas.
The impact is catastrophic. A wet, bone-deep THUD that echoes through the structure like a gunshot. The ring itself seems to shudder under the force. Roxie’s body bounces once — a sickening, involuntary recoil — and then goes completely still.
HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!
The chant is a desperate, disbelieving, the sound of thousands of people trying to process what they just saw.
Levitt pushes herself up on her elbows, staring at Roxie’s motionless body. She crawls toward her, one arm at a time, her own body screaming in protest. She reaches Roxie’s side and leans over her, checking for any sign of movement.
Roxie’s hand lifts. Barely. It moves to her mouth, trembling.
She blows into her hand.
A plastic noisemaker unrolls with a weak, pathetic honk.
Then her hand drops. She falls unconscious.
Levitt stares down at her, blood and sweat dripping from her chin onto Roxie’s crimson-streaked face paint. The crowd’s chant fades into something quieter, almost reverent.
The double ring is littered with broken bodies, the canvas streaked with blood and sweat, the air thick with the sound of labored breathing and the low, sustained roar of a crowd that knows it’s witnessing something that will be replayed for years.
Levitt pushes herself up from beside Roxie’s body, wipes blood and sweat from her eyes, and moves toward the partition ropes. She steps through into Ring 2 to join JJW and Morgan.
Selene is waiting.
She grabs Levitt as she comes through the ropes, hooks her, and drives her head-first into the canvas with BLOOD MOON (Sitout Tombstone Piledriver)! Levitt’s body goes limp, crumpling to the mat.
Morgan spins around, grabs Selene, and cracks a hard elbow across her jaw that wobbles her. Morgan seizes her by the hair and hurls her into the steel cage wall. She grinds Selene’s face across the mesh, the wire tearing at skin already split open, until Selene collapses to the canvas in a pool of her own blood.
Morgan turns and moves to JJW, who is pushing herself up off the mat, shaking the cobwebs loose.
Lily tackles Morgan from behind, driving her to the canvas and raining down strikes. JJW lunges forward, grabs Lily by the waist, and hurls her off Morgan.
The double ring falls quiet.
Only three women are still standing in Ring 2. JJW. Morgan. Lily.
Lily looks around, chest heaving, eyes darting between the two TIGRESS members closing in on her. She’s alone.
She fights anyway.
Lily throws everything she has left into movement — darting, weaving, using every ounce of speed to stay out of reach. She throws a wild, desperate kick at JJW, trying to create space.
JJW catches it.
She sweeps Lily’s base and drops her hard to the canvas. Before Lily can scramble, JJW flips her onto her stomach, drops her weight onto Lily’s shoulder, and wrenches the arm back into DISMANTLE (Fujiwara Armbar).
Lily screams.
JJW cranks back, hyperextending the shoulder, the elbow joint bending past its limit. Lily’s free hand claws at the mat, fingers digging into the canvas, but she doesn’t tap.
Morgan swoops in, snatching Lily’s free leg. She wraps around it like a python and drops down, cranking back on a brutal heel hook while Lily is pinned flat.
Lily’s body is being pulled in two directions. Her shoulder. Her knee. Both joints pushed to the verge of snapping. She screams again, louder, the sound raw and ragged, but she still doesn’t tap.
Nearby, Selene pushes herself up off the canvas. Her face is a crimson mask, blood dripping from her chin, her eyes barely open. She sees Lily trapped, sees the angle of her arm, sees the way her body is shaking.
Selene drags herself toward the edge of the ring, one arm at a time, her body leaving a smear of red across the canvas. She reaches the steel mesh and pulls herself up, fingers slipping on the blood-slicked wire.
She screams at the referee on the outside.
SELENE: I surrender! I surrender!
The bell rings frantically, the sound cutting through the arena like a siren.
TIGRESS WINS
SURRENDER VICTORY
NEW VOODOO PACT CHAMPIONS
JJW releases the hold. Morgan lets go of the leg. Lily collapses flat to the mat, sobbing, clutching her shoulder.
Selene slides down the cage wall and crawls toward her, leaving a trail of blood behind her.
The rest of TIGRESS lies scattered across both rings, broken and battered, but victorious. The new Voodoo Pact Champions.