Holliday’s music hits over the p.a as she climbs off Mason, as Joshua partially rolls into the ring and grabs Mason and pulls her from the ring, as the ref approaches Holliday and raises her hand in victory.

We cut to the backstage area at Climax Control, here we see the current #1 Contender for the SCW Roulette Championship Cassie Wolfe sitting on a crate, her manager Joshua Acquin standing beside her.

Cassie: 2022, my rookie year as a wrestler, within a few months of my graduation from Hero Academy I had won my first ever title, the MPW TV Title.

Cassie shakes her head.

Cassie: Fast forward a year later and MPW is defunct, I lost the title because of managerial bullshit and they never even considered giving me a rematch! Since then? I’ve been working my ass off to win my second title, even joined a few feds that ended up being nonstarters before floundering on EWC’s Rampage brand and ending up here!

Joshua: Ever since Cassie was announced as Alicia’s next challenger at Blaze of Glory XV? She has been training hard and is determined to break that title drought.

Cassie frowns as she leans forward.

Cassie: Alicia? I have been waiting four years to win my second title in wrestling, frankly? That’s four years too long in my mind! At Blaze of Glory XV? The Bombshell Roulette Title will once again be around the waist of a female wrestler from South Australia, now, whether I can repeat my half sister Krystal’s success that she enjoyed in 2021 is another matter but believe me Alicia, the future of the Roulette Division belongs to the youth!

Cassie hops off the crate and walks off with Josh as the scene fades.

Behind the curtain, near the interview set. Dim background lighting, steel crates, cables, and the faint echo of the arena crowd beyond the walls. Ms. Rocky Mountains stands stage-left, microphone in hand. Mercedes Vargas stands on the right, the World Bombshell Championship draped across her shoulder, calm and collected.

Ms. Rocky Mountains: Mercedes, there’s a lot of confusion heading into tonight. Officially, Crystal Zdunich is scheduled to defend the World Bombshell Championship against Kayla Richards but everyone can see you’re the one holding the title. Add to that Seleana Zdunich saying this isn’t about the championship anymore, it’s about payback... What’s your response?

Mercedes: Seleana wants payback. I get it. But she’s walking into something she doesn’t understand.

Ms. Rocky lowers the mic slightly as Mercedes steps forward, taking over.

Mercedes: A table match? That’s nothing new to me. I’ve been through worse, glass, chairs, cages. All of it. None of it broke me.

Vargas taps the belt resting on her shoulder.

Mercedes: They can say Crystal’s defending this all they want. The paperwork doesn’t matter. This belt’s been mine since the night I took it from her hands. What matters isn’t contracts, it’s who’s carrying it. This title stays with me because I don’t fight off emotion. I fight because this is my life. Every scar I earned taught me when to hit, when to wait, and when to end it. You want to call it vengeance? Call it whatever helps you sleep. But I don’t do revenge. I do results.

Her stare sharpens, tone drops lower.

Mercedes: Crystal got a lesson. Seleana’s next. She wants justice, I want honesty. The truth is, when the bell rings, only one of us knows how far she’s willing to bleed to win. That’s me.

The camera tightens as Vargas steps closer.

Mercedes: I dropped Crystal because she was weak in the moment. That’s the truth. Seleana wants to prove she’s stronger, good. Let her try. But heart alone isn’t enough. She’ll find that out when her body hits the wood.

She slowly circles behind Ms. Rocky, eyes cutting back to the lens.

Mercedes: You want chaos? I’ll give you art. You want vengeance? I’ll give you education. You want closure? Then listen close, this isn’t your redemption, it’s your reality.

Leans close to camera, measured tone.

Mercedes: This isn’t about hate. It’s about survival.

She straightens slowly, letting the silence thicken.

Mercedes: I’ve fought too long, bled too much, to lose to someone chasing emotions.

Straightens, voice rising just barely above a quiet growl.

Mercedes: Tonight... I remind her what real fighters look like.

She lets a small smirk break across her face.

Mercedes: Try not to cry when the table cracks, mamita. Mascara and shame don’t photograph well.

Ms. Rocky Mountains glances toward the camera, slightly unsettled as Mercedes walks off toward Gorilla position. Crowd noise swells faintly. Camera lingers from Ms. Rocky’s reaction to the commentary desk.

Simone: You can feel it, Mercedes Vargas is absolutely locked in, carrying that World Bombshell Championship like she never lost it.

Lunam: And technically? She isn’t the champion on paper, but when you’re holding the belt and talking like that, paperwork doesn’t count for much. That promo lit a fire, Belinda.

Simone: Well, that fire didn’t go unnoticed, because moments ago we caught up with Seleana Zdunich, who had a few words of her own for Mercedes Vargas.

Backstage again. Lighting warmer than before. Pussy Willow stands beside Seleana Zdunich, focused, centered.

Pussy Willow: Ladies and gentlemen, joining me now is The Cat, Seleana Zdunich. Seleana, you just heard Mercedes Vargas say she’s not chasing revenge, she’s creating aftermaths, and that tonight's not your redemption, it’s your reality. What’s your reaction?

Seleana: Mercedes loves to talk as if she cannot be touched, ja? But she can. She is holding on to a championship she did not win, and to control that is already slipping through her fingers.

She steadies herself, jaw set, eyes fixed on Pussy Willow.

Seleana: I do not run from pain. I have lived with it, same as Crystal. And this Sunday, I am not stepping in angry. I am stepping in focused. Because surviving does not mean you forget what hurt you. It means you remember it... and you make it your strength. She says she teaches lessons? Mm. Then mine is simple, even precision breaks when it meets purpose.

Small pause, composed, quiet conviction.

Seleana: She wishes to turn this into a realization? Fine. Then the realization will be hers, that everything she has built falls apart, the moment that table breaks.

Pussy Willow nods as Seleana walks off, camera lingers as the crowd cheers faintly from the arena feed. Cut back to commentary.

Lunam: That’s the calmest I’ve ever seen Seleana Zdunich, which might be the scariest part. Mercedes better watch that composure.

Simone: The message is clear, no matter who’s listed on the card, everyone’s fighting for control.

Lunam: And control might be the toughest thing to hold when that table breaks tonight.

Referee Jacob Summers enters the ring to officiate this match. Around him, the battlefield is already built and waiting, tables scattered in organized chaos that promises violence instead of elegance. Two are set up at ringside on opposite sides like traps with patience. Another lies flat near the timekeeper’s area, its surface already scuffed from being dragged into place. One table leans against the barricade at an angle, another against the ring apron, and a final one rests folded near the steel steps, as if someone saved it for a very specific kind of cruelty. Summers checks the ropes, looks down each side of the ring, then points to ringside crew to clear the last bits of debris from the floor. He knows what this kind of match turns into, and the crowd knows it too, volume rising before either woman even appears.

Justin: The following contest is a TABLES MATCH!

The crowd cheers!

Justin: The rules are simple. There are no disqualifications and no count outs. The only way to win is to put your opponent through a table! Introducing first...!

Suddenly, the arena lights turn off and the crowd is hyped up for what was in store. As the opening of Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me by U2 blares across the PA system, the mood of the crowd changes instantly and the arena is under the subtle glowing of the lights. As the lyrics finally kick in, a figure emerges, the highlight of their attire is being under the illusion. Mercedes Vargas stops short of the entrance ramp, hands on waist, and overlooking the crowd.

Justin: Making her way to the ring! Coming down the aisle, from Buenos Aires, Argentina, weighing in at 125 pounds, MERCEEEEEDEEEES VAAAARGAAAAS!

Cheers, boos and catcalls soon greet her. Oblivious and yet satisfied with their reaction for several seconds, she flips her long hair, then makes her way to the ring. As she goes up the steps and walks to the end of the ring apron, she climbs to the turnbuckle, then turns her head back as the camera shows her determined expression, perhaps a message that her opponent will be in for a tough fight. Mercedes vaults into the ring and walks over to the opposite corner where she relaxes along the corner ropes while waiting for her opponent to arrive.

Simone: Listen to this reaction, Erik. Mercedes Vargas walks in like she owns the place, and right now she is still carrying the shadow of that stolen World Championship belt situation like a badge of honor.

Lunam: Ah she does, Belinda, and she’s no ashamed in the slightest. She’s paradin around with another woman’s legacy like it’s a handbag. It’s rotten, it’s sly, and it tells ye exactly who Mercedes Vargas is when the lights are brightest.

Justin: And her opponent!

The arena fades to black as the screen lights up and we are treated to an old school movie countdown image.

5

4

3

Suddenly the countdown is stopped by claws slashing through the image and a cat’s roar sounds through the arena.

Janet Jackson’s Black Cat blasts through the speakers and Seleana Zdunich walks through the entranceway and makes her way to the ring, slapping hands along the way as the crowd cheers her on.

Justin: Introducing her opponent! From Los Angeles, California, SELEANA ZDUNICH!

Seleana circles once at ringside, eyes locked on Mercedes, then points to the nearest table and slaps the wood with an open palm before sliding into the ring. She rises with that focused, tight-jawed expression that says tonight is business, not ceremony.

Simone: Seleana has had a whirlwind of emotion coming into this one. The reunion with her estranged wife Crystal, Crystal in action later tonight, and all of it while processing what happened to her sister Zenna after that mysterious attack. That is a lot to carry into a match this dangerous.

Lunam: Aye, and that’s the danger, isn’t it. Fire can forge steel or melt it. If Seleana’s head is clear she can fly circles around nearly anyone. If the mind wanders for even one second in a tables match, ye wake up on splinters.

Jacob Summers signals both women to approach, gives final instructions, then backs away.

DING DING DING!

Mercedes bursts first, fast and vicious, lunging for a short-arm knife-edge chop sequence that cracks through the opening seconds. Two chops, three, then she reaches for the short-arm clothesline, but Seleana ducks and snaps into a crisp arm drag that sends Mercedes skidding. Mercedes pops up into a pendulum kick from the corner, cracking Seleana in the shoulder, then sprints with a running low-angle dropkick that knocks Seleana to one knee. Mercedes circles and stomps while stalking her, that predatory footwork around a fallen opponent, each stomp measured and mean.

Simone: Mercedes trying to take away movement immediately, and that is smart against someone as explosive as Seleana.

Seleana catches a stomping foot, twists, and yanks Mercedes into a hard hip toss. Mercedes bounces up, eats a dropkick, stumbles to ropes, and Seleana follows with two clotheslines in rhythm before whipping her across for a bulldog that spikes Mercedes into canvas. Seleana kips up and the crowd surges. She runs the ropes, springboards for a moonsault, lands flush, but can only transition because pinfalls mean nothing here. She knows it, grabs a table from ringside, and slides it in.

Lunam: That’s the key in this bout, there’s no cover to save ye. Every bit of offense has one purpose, soften the body and find the wood.

Mercedes answers with cunning. She slithers under Seleana’s next advance, catches her seated near the ropes, and snakes on a body scissors from behind, wrenching with a dragon sleeper. Seleana’s arms flail as Mercedes bends her sideways, then releases just to fling her with a hair-pull snapmare into the middle rope. A baseball slide follows, then a buzzsaw kick glances off Seleana’s temple. Mercedes drags in a table and wedges it upright in the corner, balancing the legs so the surface faces outward like a wall of punishment.

Simone: Here we go, first big trap of the match.

Mercedes hooks around Seleana’s waist, tries to lawn-dart her backward into the upright table, but Seleana plants both boots at the last instant, body rigid, then fires elbows backward into Mercedes’ cheek and jaw. Mercedes staggers, Seleana spins, exploder suplex into the mat, and the table in the corner rattles but stays standing.

Lunam: Brilliant save, absolutely brilliant. If Seleana doesn’t brace there, this could’ve been over already.

They spill outside in a scramble for positioning. Mercedes bridges a table between the middle rope and the barricade-height ring edge, a nasty, uneven platform with no forgiveness. She charges for a back body drop attempt onto the bridge, but Seleana flips over her back and lands on her feet behind her. In one motion Seleana cinches the waist and throws a German suplex, sending Mercedes crashing onto the bridged table. The wood booms, bows, shudders, but does not break.

Simone: How did that table survive!

Lunam: Sometimes the table’s got more fight than the wrestler, Belinda, and tonight that plank just refused to die.

Seleana tries to capitalize, hauling Mercedes up and rolling her inside. Mercedes suddenly shifts gears, grabs front facelock, and drags Seleana toward the center where another table stands. She sets the DDT position, aiming Seleana’s head for the center of the table top. The crowd rises, sensing finish, but Seleana deadlifts from underneath, powers upward with pure leg drive, then arches into a Northern Lights suplex off the standing table line and onto the mat, folding Mercedes over in a beautiful counter. The table wobbles and tips aside, untouched.

Simone: Unreal counter, pure ring IQ under pressure!

Both women breathe heavy now, sweat and grit and urgency mixing together. Mercedes crawls to a corner, Seleana rushes and eats a boot. Mercedes springboards off the middle rope with a leg drop that clips Seleana’s neck, then follows with a float-over DDT variation that plants Seleana hard. She drags in a second table, stacks it over the first setup near center ring, and signals powerbomb. She hoists Seleana, tries to sit out through both boards, but Seleana punches free, shifts weight, and snaps a hurricanrana that slings Mercedes off balance and into the ropes instead of the wood. Tables still standing, chaos escalating.

Lunam: She nearly folded her there, sweet mercy. Seleana slipped the noose by a thread.

Out to ringside again, Mercedes turns uglier. She places a folded table against the barricade, drags Seleana in front of it, and blasts a sliding dropkick to sandwich Seleana between steel rail and hard wood. The sound is sickening, but the table stays folded, legal finish denied by geometry alone. Mercedes grins, grabs hair, and slams Seleana face-first into the apron. She tries a handspring tornado DDT on the floor, Seleana shoves her off, then vaults to the barricade to avoid a charging tackle. With the crowd roaring, Seleana leaps from the barricade onto a flat table at ringside, lands catlike, then springs back off with a flying forearm that wipes Mercedes out.

Simone: That is the athleticism that makes Seleana so dangerous, balance, timing, and zero fear.

Back inside, Mercedes goes tactical and cruel. She folds a table halfway and traps Seleana’s ankle inside the legs and frame, pinning her lower limb in the hinge. Then stomps, once, twice, three times to the knee and shin, ripping a scream from Seleana and drawing a wave of boos. Mercedes adds a corner foot choke when Seleana drags herself free, pressing the sole across her throat until Summers can only warn, never disqualify.

Lunam: No disqualifications means conscience is the only referee in this one, and Mercedes left hers in Buenos Aires years ago.

Mercedes tries to end it now, dragging Seleana up the steel steps with a front headlock and setting for a swinging neckbreaker toward a table on the floor below. She twists, but Seleana grabs the ring post and clings with both arms. Mercedes loses leverage and crashes alone to the floor, back first near the table leg, wind exploding from her lungs. Seleana drops from the steps with a cannonball against the barricade, then tosses Mercedes in and peppers her with Yes! kicks, each strike cracking against chest and shoulder, rhythm building with the crowd.

Simone: Seleana is firing up and this building is with her.

Seleana whips Mercedes corner to corner, follows with a running dropkick, then yanks her into a seated position and slings a 450 splash onto the seated opponent, chest to chest impact that folds Mercedes like paper. Seleana transitions into a Muta Lock, wrenching neck and arm, then switches to a flying cross arm breaker attempt as Mercedes tries to stand. Mercedes thrashes and reaches ropes by instinct, though ropes do not save her here, only buy seconds. Seleana releases and shoves a table into the ring center, setting it upright with quick hands.

Lunam: This is her moment now. One clean launch and it’s over.

Seleana runs for the ropes, feints a suicide dive line, rebounds, and drills Mercedes with a spinning heel kick. She pulls Mercedes up for a possible exploder through the table, Mercedes blocks with frantic elbows, then lands a desperate discus clothesline that turns Seleana inside out. Both crash, both crawl, both reach for opposite table legs like castaways grabbing driftwood.

Mercedes rises first and tries a catapult backbreaker onto the standing table edge, but Seleana lands on her feet off the catapult, pivots, arm drag into a scramble, then a Boston crab in center ring just to break Mercedes’ posture and gas tank. Summers hovers nearby as Mercedes claws and screams, then Seleana lets go voluntarily and drags her toward the wood once more.

Simone: Seleana is in full control now, and Mercedes is running out of escapes.

Seleana rolls to the apron, stalking the perfect springboard entry while Mercedes stumbles up in the ring, dazed and vulnerable near center table position. Seleana steadies herself on the top strand, knees bent, eyes locked. The crowd starts to swell, then abruptly changes pitch, warning cries spilling from every side of the arena.

Simone: Wait, wait, what is that, someone’s under the ring!

From beneath the apron at opposite side, two figures slink into view, Twisted Sister and Iron Maiden, moving like thieves in a blackout. Before Summers can even register it, they seize Seleana’s legs from the apron and yank her backward off the ropes!

Lunam: Ah come off it! That’s a bloody mugging, Jacob turn around!

Twisted Sister and Iron Maiden double powerbomb Seleana through the table at ringside, the board exploding into shards beneath her as the crowd erupts in fury! Summers spins too late, sees only wreckage and Seleana amid broken wood. In the ring, Mercedes Vargas drapes herself on the ropes, chest heaving, then slowly lifts her head with a cold, satisfied smile as if she has seen this ending in her mind all night.

Justin: Here is your winner, MERCEDES VARGAS!

Boos rain down with full force as Twisted Sister and Iron Maiden disappear as quickly as they appeared, slipping away through the same under-ring shadows that birthed the ambush. Mercedes steps through the ropes, raises an arm, and basks in the hatred like applause. Seleana is still being checked at ringside, breathing but hurt, fragments of table around her like evidence at a crime scene.

Simone: Mercedes Vargas steals this one with outside interference in a match that already had no rules, and technically that means the result stands, but everyone in this arena knows exactly what they just watched.

Lunam: Aye, we watched a robbery in broad daylight, Belinda. Seleana fought her heart out, survived every trap, took control late, and then got dragged into an ambush by jackals. Mercedes gets the win on paper, but there’s no honor in it, none at all. If she still thinks she can strut about with stolen championship glory and now this kind of victory, she’s building enemies faster than she can count.

Simone: And the bigger picture just got uglier. Seleana came in carrying emotional weight already, trying to stay centered for family and for tonight, and now this. Meanwhile Mercedes leaves with momentum and controversy wrapped together again. Opening match, and we are already in absolute chaos.

Lunam: Ye can feel where this is headin. This isn’t finished, not by a long shot. Tonight started with tables, and it might end with vendettas.

Backstage a camera comes up on Alexandra who is standing with Miles, Carter and LJ. Clearly they were there to support Miles and Carter in their Tag Team Main Event tonight. They motion for Alexandra to come with them and LJ follows beside her.

Alexandra: So much talk about how I’ve been so silent about my upcoming match against Bea.

She smiles over at LJ and then to Carter and Miles.

Alexandra: You see, unlike the Barnharts, I don’t feel the need to consistently run my mouth making false accusations against people in an attempt to get under their skin. What I’m about to say can be backed up by video evidence.

Taking a few steps further she points to a television, on the screen is a match, with Bill and Miles.

Alexandra: Take this for instance, Bill and Bea consistently sit around and bitch, saying people use cheating ways and how everyone is consistently fucking them over. But from where I’m standing, both here looking at the tapes, and the things I’ve stopped from happening, it seems that you all are ALWAYS at the forefront of the cheating. Now I got to say as someone who used to use cheating to win, you have failed miserably at it.

She pauses and looks at LJ then back at her future brother in law, Miles and his husband Carter.

Alexandra: Now granted, all this jaw jerking isn’t really my style. I would rather just let you run your mouth and prove to you in the ring that I’m done with your antics. However, people think I should say more.

She looks back at Carter.

Alexandra: So here we are. Since you so badly need my attention. You all have done everything you can to break this family, defamed us and made false accusations against us. But all of that will pale in comparison to the fact that yet again I will destroy you in the ring, as I have every single time we’ve faced off.

She smirks quickly and nods.

Alexandra: Do me a favor, leave your little friends and husband backstage when you get into the ring with me and I’ll do the same. However, if you should choose not to, know that I will not hesitate to let LJ, Miles and Carter, do the work of chasing them out of here. Should you choose to do this on your own, then let’s do this.

Alexandra laughs softly.

Alexandra: But I need you to understand this, I plan on moving forward in the qualifying rounds. I don’t care who they put in front of me, friend or foe. Now if you don’t mind, I plan on going back to supporting my friends in their main event match. See you soon, Bea.

With that, they turn their back and head back over to Miles and Carter, as the camera fades back to ringside.

Backstage at Dignity Health Arena, Pussy Willow steps up to the World Heavyweight Champion’s dressing room and knocks twice. The door swings open, and Helluva Bottom Carter appears already dressed to compete, title glinting on a nearby chair, expression calmer than his earlier backstage antics.

Pussy Willow: You ready to talk now?

HBCarter: I am. I was having a little fun, maybe too much fun. I’ll send you, Rocky, and Evelyn candy and flowers later this week in lieu of an apology.

Pussy gives him a look, half amused, half exhausted.

Pussy Willow: And what are you giving Miles by way of apology?

Carter just stares at her, caught flat for a beat.

Pussy Willow: ...Never mind.

She adjusts her mic and gets back on track.

Pussy Willow: Tonight, Double Jeopardy tag team match, you and Miles against Alex Jones and Alexander Raven. What does this match mean to you?

Carter’s tone sharpens, all business now.

HBCarter: Everything. Literally everything. Everything riding into Blaze of Glory XV depends on this match. Momentum, leverage, control of the narrative, all of it starts tonight. And I like my odds because I’m teaming with the one person I trust most in this business, my husband. Miles and I don’t need to guess what the other is thinking. Alex and Raven? They probably won’t make it halfway through the match without trying to out-ego each other or turn on one another. That’s the difference. We’re a unit. They’re a temporary alliance waiting to crack.

Pussy nods, then presses further.

Pussy Willow: If you and Miles win tonight, what are your plans for Blaze of Glory XV, and what do you make of Alexander Raven’s plans for your match stipulation?

Carter smirks, then leans a little closer to the camera.

HBCarter: Raven played his hand too soon by warning me what he’s plotting. That was his first mistake. If Miles and I were to lose, it gives me extra time to prepare for every angle he thinks he’s being clever about. But when we win tonight, and we will, I’m going to make Alexander Raven sweat a little before I play my hand. Let him wonder. Let him pace. Let him guess wrong. By the time Blaze of Glory XV gets here, he won’t be walking in with a plan, he’ll be walking in with pressure.

Pussy lowers the mic, giving Carter a measured nod as he steps back toward his dressing room door.

Pussy Willow: World Champion Helluva Bottom Carter, focused and confident heading into Double Jeopardy. Back to you.

Carter gives one last tight grin, then closes the door as the camera fades out.

Simone: Welcome back to Climax Control and our next match has huge implications for Blaze of Glory XV! Alexander Raven is set to challenge for the World Heavyweight Championship as he takes on HB Carter while Miles Kasey will challenge the Internet Champion Alex Jones so the bosses decided to put these four men together in a Double Jeopardy Tag Team Match! The team that wins gets to decide the stipulations for those two title matches at Blaze of Glory XV!

Lunam: I have no doubt in my mind that Miles and Carter will gel together, they are winners of the Couple of the Year award multiple years in a row, but the two Alexs? Their egos are almost as big as Christian's net worth!

Simone: This will be a heated match! Let us take it to Justin!

Justin: The following is a Double Jeopardy Tag Team Match, scheduled for one fall! The winning team will decide the stipulation for the World Heavyweight and Internet Title Matches at Blaze of Glory XV!

The dancing techno beat of Lady Gaga's LGBTQ anthem, "Born This Way" kicks up over the sound system. The crowd turns to the stage where Helluva Bottom Carter dances out onto the stage amidst the cheers of the SCW Universe. Clad in his favorite ostrich jacket and sparkling lavender shades over his eyes, Carter bows and sweeps at the waist, blowing a kiss.

Justin: From Seattle, Washington, weighing one hundred and seventy six pounds, he is the reigning World Heavyweight Champion, "The Hardcore Bottom" Helluva Bottom Carter!

Carter runs toward the ring, slapping hands offered out to him all around the ringside area. He then hops up onto the ring apron in a split and slides beneath the bottom rope. He crawls seductively on all fours until he arrives in his corner. He pulls himself up and removes his shades and jacket, passing them out to the ringside attendant before laying across the top corner, awaiting his opponent's introduction.

Simone: We have said it once and we will say it a thousand times, do not underestimate this man! He is a product of the Go Gym and the World Heavyweight Champion for a reason!

Lunam: He joined SCW in 2022 after SCU folded and has been tearing it up since, you would think that would go without saying!

Justin: And his partner!

"Throne" by Bring Me The Horizon hits the speakers, opening with the haunting keys before that first crashing riff. The arena plunges into darkness.

A single spotlight beams down onto the stage as blue and gold lights begin to swirl like a storm forming. The opening instrumental kicks in heavier, and the fans immediately erupt, knowing who is coming. A slow roll of fog creeps along the ramp, and just as the beat drops, boom, a burst of golden pyro erupts from both sides of the stage, and Miles Kasey steps through the smoke, hood up, head down.

His long jacket flows behind him, the blue and gold design of his gear catching flashes of light like armor under moonlight. The hood casts a slight shadow over his face, but the grin is unmistakable. He pauses at the top of the ramp, slowly raising his head.

Camera zooms in on his eyes.

The hook hits, "So you can throw me to the wolves..."

Miles throws his arms out in a wide, defiant pose as a wave of gold and blue pyro explodes behind him, illuminating the arena in heroic brilliance.

"...Tomorrow I will come back, leader of the whole pack!"

Justin: From Manchester, England, weighing 215 pounds, MILES KASEY!

He rips the hood down, revealing that confident smirk. Fans are on their feet, feeding off his energy.

Miles starts his slow, swagger filled walk down the ramp. He slaps a few hands, points out some fans in the crowd, and gives a subtle nod to the camera like "Yeah, this is mine tonight."

At ringside, he climbs the apron with ease, wipes his boots, and leaps over the top rope in one smooth motion. He heads to the turnbuckle, climbing to the second rope. Miles raises a single fist into the air as a final golden spotlight hits him, the crowd roaring behind him.

Then he hops down, shrugging off his jacket like it weighs nothing. His eyes lock onto the stage, or the opponent, ready.

Simone: As we alluded to earlier, Miles and Carter are not just partners in wrestling but in life as well, something will have to go catastrophically wrong for them to fall out!

Lunam: And we do mean catastrophically!

Justin: And their opponents!

Tommy Vext's "Cancel the King" hits and as the lyrics of the intro cut into the guitar Alex steps out wearing a black and red Wolfslair t shirt and his wrestling gear. He makes his way down to the ring with an arrogant sneer before leaping up onto the ring apron.

Justin: From Dallas, Texas, weighing 225 pounds, he is the reigning SCW Internet Champion, ALEX JONES!

Simone: Alex Jones has warred with both Carter and Miles over the past year, Carter won the World Heavyweight Championship from him last year but in return Alex defeated Miles to win the Internet Title at Inception VIII!

Lunam: And somehow I doubt it will end at Blaze of Glory XV!

Justin: And his partner!

As the opening riff of "Kafka" by Jinjer begins to play out the lights change to a darkish blue, filling the area with a hazy blue. Smoke billows from the entrance way, covering the ramp and creating a cloud big enough for a person to stand in at the entrance curtain.

"Hardly in the spirit of the era. Dedicate and thin skinned. One appeared in front of the jury. Face uncovered in front of the jury."

Alexander bursts from the smoke cloud, eyes open wide as he slowly casts his gaze over the crowd. His face drawn and stoic, the slight flaring of his nostrils as he nods a little to himself. His hand extends out to his side, as Luna Pasilno steps through the smoke, taking his hand in hers. The two of them slowly begin to make their way down the ramp, hand in hand.

"Beauty of looks, beauty of faults. Frightened and offhand. Deaf to a command."

Justin: Being accompanied by Luna Pasilno, from Melbourne, Victoria, Australia, weighing 225 pounds, "The Broken Messiah" ALEXANDER RAVEN!

As they reach the ring apron, they let go of each other's hands, Alexander stepping up onto the ring apron, and turns to look back at Luna. The two of them lock eyes as he slowly steps backwards through the ropes, never breaking gaze from her. An unspoken acknowledgement as he slowly steps backwards toward the center of the ring, Luna making her way around the ringside area taking up place nearby. Alexander coming to a stop in the middle of the ring, eyes still locked on her. Waiting for the bell.

Simone: Similarly Carter and Raven have been feuding practically since Raven returned to SCW!

Lunam: He is definitely out to cause chaos tonight!

Before Jasmine even goes over the rules with both teams though, she points to Luna and ejects her immediately.

Simone: And Jasmine is not putting up with Luna's nonsense tonight!

Lunam: Considering all she has done since Raven returned, that is not surprising!

The crowd comes unglued as Luna tries to protest but it falls on deaf ears as Carter and Miles wave her goodbye, however the two Alexs take advantage of this by blindsiding them and a brawl ensues prompting Jasmine to call for the bell.

DING DING DING!

Simone: And of course the two Alexs take advantage of the distraction to get their blows in!

Lunam: Carter and Miles will have to be on their toes tonight!

Jasmine tries to regain control of the match and, in a way she gets her wish as the two Alexs throw Miles over the top rope and to the floor so that they can beat up on Carter without interruption.

Jasmine does remind the two men that no, this is not a Tornado Tag Team Match and someone needs to head out to the apron but the Alexs pay no attention to her as they pick up Carter and whip him across the ring, however Carter leaps to the top rope and springboards off with a huge crossbody.

Simone: Jasmine wanted to regain control and Carter's crossbody to Alex and Raven may just allow her to do that!

Lunam: Carter was made the legal man by default when Miles was thrown out but either of the Alexs will have to leave the ring before Carter can go for the first pin of the match!

Carter still has to wait for either of the Alexs to leave the ring before he can go for a pin and when Raven does leave the ring he goes for the pin on Jones.

ONE!

TWO!

And Jones kicks out. Carter shakes his head before picking up Jones only for the Internet Champion to rake Carter's eyes and then lay in with a couple of punches.

Alex then backs Carter into a neutral corner before whipping Carter into an opposite corner near where Raven is lurking before charging in only for Carter to counter with the Buttocks Injection, the move where he repeatedly rams his opponent face first into his rear end via his feet on the opponent's shoulders.

This lasts two seconds before Raven kicks Carter's head into next week.

Simone: Carter went for one of his signature moves too early and paid for it with that kick from Raven!

Lunam: Raven kicked him so hard he probably thinks Jones is a flat chested woman! Meanwhile Miles is now on the apron!

Jones takes advantage of Carter's stunned state with the help of a little body repositioning to hit Carter with a powerbomb out of the corner. Jones goes for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

And Carter kicks out! Jones promptly tags in Raven and the two Alexs get a couple of kicks in on Carter while Miles does his best to cheer on his husband but after a few minutes Raven locks in a single leg crab on Carter.

Simone: Now Raven has the submission on Carter!

Lunam: After he and Jones beat the crap out of Carter! Will Miles need to break it up!

Despite the size difference, Carter is managing to crawl his way over to the ring ropes and looks set to force the rope break, but thinking quickly Jones hops off the apron, jogs over to the ropes where Carter is approaching and pulls them out of reach.

Miles, seeing this, responds by hitting his Blaze of Glory opponent with a suicide dive, forcing Jones to let go and allowing Carter to grab the ropes.

Raven tries to regain control by dragging Carter back to the center of the ring and going for another submission hold. Carter gets to his feet however and knocks Raven down with an enziguri.

But the action has taken a lot out of him and Miles is still down at ringside alongside Jones.

Simone: All four men are down but the ones that matter are Raven and Carter!

Lunam: Meanwhile Jones and Miles are down on the outside!

Jasmine starts her count but while Carter and Raven are regaining their bearings Jones and Miles are making their way up to the ring apron and start calling for the tag.

Raven makes it to his corner first and tags in Jones but before the Texan can cross the ring Carter makes a big leap for the corner and tags in Miles.

The crowd is already going nuts but they come unglued when Miles springboards into the ring with a huge flying lariat.

Simone: Miles and Jones are in!

Lunam: And Jones's head just landed somewhere in the cheap seats thanks to Miles's lariat!

Raven gets a surge of energy as he charges in to try to derail Miles's momentum but Miles counters by hitting Raven with a Spanish Fly while simultaneously hitting Jones with a standing moonsault.

Carter then springboards off Miles's back and hits Raven with a shooting star press for good measure as Miles goes for a pin on Jones.

ONE!

TWO!

And Jones kicks out!!

Simone: We knew things were going to pick up when Carter tagged in Miles but not by this much!

Lunam: And this is just a preview of their matches at Blaze of Glory XV!

Both Carter and Raven roll out of the ring while Miles picks up Jones only for the Texan to hit him with a European uppercut that spins Miles around and then follows that up with a hammerlock into a clothesline. Alex goes for a pin.

ONE!

TWO!

And Miles kicks out just as Raven and Carter are back on the apron.

Alex picks up Miles and goes to snapmare him and follow that up with a soccer kick but Miles flattens himself to dodge the kick and hits Alex with a kip up hurricanrana.

However Alex landed near his corner and Raven takes the opportunity to blind tag himself in.

Simone: I think Raven is trying to get the win here!

Lunam: I would say that is a safe bet!

Indeed, Raven grabs Miles's arms and goes for the Kingslayer but Miles fights it.

While this is going on Jones goes to dispose of Carter but is subjected to the Buttocks Injection while Miles manages to break free of Raven's grasp and hit him with the God Save The King Stormbreaker.

Across the ring Carter has just kicked away Jones and climbed the top rope before hitting the Internet Champion with the Fruit Fly, Eclipse.

Simone: GOD SAVE THE KING ON RAVEN! ECLIPSE ON JONES!

Lunam: The two Alexs are out! Stick a fork in them, they are done!

As Miles and Raven are the legal men Miles goes for the pin on Raven.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!

DING DING DING!

Justin: Here are your winners, Miles Kasey and the World Heavyweight Champion HB CARTER!

Simone: What a match! And more importantly Miles and Carter just got control over their destinies at Blaze of Glory XV!

Lunam: You know the Alexs are going to have words after this!

Carter and Miles celebrate while Jasmine checks on the two Alexs.

---

The large screen in the Dignity Health Arena in Bakersfield, California, fires up and the fans look at the screen to see what is being displayed. What they see is Bill Barnhart, Bea Barnhart, and their English Bulldog Iris, and they wonder where they are broadcasting from.

Bea: Greetings to you in Bakersfield, California. I am at our home in Lawrenceville, Georgia, along with my husband, Bill, and our English Bulldog Iris.

Bill: We took advantage of the two of us not assigned to a match on this current edition of Climax Control to return home and see how everything is going in the neighborhood. Our neighbor, Andrew, is coming over soon to see how we are doing and, of course, he wants to spoil Iris as he is the person who takes care of Iris when she is not on tour with us with Sin City Wrestling.

Bea: Most of you already know that I won my match recently that places me in line for a Championship soon. I plan on winning that Championship so if you do not like that...that is your problem not mine!

Bill: As most of you may already know I lost my match against Zayvion Lyons. I am not upset over my loss to him since he has great talent and for his height and weight he was amazing in the ring against me. There you go! That proves to you that I am not a hateful person when it comes to winning or losing matches.

Bea: Did you still want to mention the Iris stuffed animals we were giving away at the last Climax Control?

Bill: Yes I will mention that. At the last wrestling event we brought hundreds of English Bulldog stuffed toys to hand out to anyone who wanted them whether they liked me and Bea or not. Unfortunately we have many of the English Bulldog stuffed animals remaining.

Bea: What we decided to do is to bring the remaining English Bulldog animals to Children’s Hospital of Atlanta as most of the children being treated there are suffering through various illnesses and maybe they will get a bit of comfort from holding a stuffed English Bulldog in their arms.

Bill: In closing our comments for today we are also going to donate a significant amount of money to Children’s Hospital of Atlanta with that money to be available to families who are not financially able to pay the medical bills for the treatments their children are receiving.

Bea: Thanks for giving us your time. Please remember if you want to challenge me or Bill to a match at the next Climax Control then please contact Management and ask them to assign you to a match against me or Bill. Feel free to ask for any type of match...any type of rules...or no rules at all...as we do not back down from anyone for any reason. The saying goes: BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU ASK FOR...BECAUSE YOU MIGHT JUST GET IT!!! is in play here. Myself and Bill, along with our English Bulldog Iris, will be at the next Climax Control Event, so we will be keeping a watch on what is going on with the current Climax Control event to see if anyone on the Roster has the courage to challenge us to a match. Bye!

With the BYE from Bea the camera feed goes off and the large screen at the Dignity Health Arena goes dark.

---

WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
Helluva Bottom Carter (c) vs Alexander Raven

---

The camera fades in on the SCW interview set where Pussy Willow stands ready, microphone in hand, confidence radiating as always despite the recent chaos stirred up by Logan Hunter’s camp.

Ryan Keys steps into frame beside her, hoodie open, wrists taped, posture relaxed. He looks more amused than stressed with Blaze of Glory right around the corner.

Pussy Willow: Ryan, Blaze of Glory is almost here, and Logan Hunter’s associates have been causing trouble backstage for weeks now. Interviews interrupted, talent harassed… it’s getting exhausting. And yet you don’t look worried at all. Why is that?

Ryan chuckles, shaking his head.

Ryan: Because I’m not. Logan’s people wanna play tough backstage, try to get in people’s heads, push around whoever they think they can. But me? I’m good. I’ve got someone making sure nobody gets cute trying to jump me or pull something before the match. So I’m covered. But honestly? I’m not just worried about me.

You’ve had Logan’s crew making things uncomfortable out here too. And that’s not part of the job description. So if anybody gives you problems again? You don’t gotta handle that alone. I’ll keep an eye out.

Pussy steps a little closer, teasing grin returning.

Pussy Willow: Careful, Ryan. People might start talking if you keep saying things like that.

Ryan laughs.

Ryan: People always talk. And yeah, I see the flirting. Half the locker room falls apart every time you show up with a mic. Hey, I respect it. Confidence looks good on you. But respect goes both ways. Nobody should make your job harder just because they think they can.

So Logan can keep sending people around trying to stir things up. Doesn’t matter. Nobody’s catching me slipping anymore. And at Blaze of Glory? All that noise stops when the bell rings.

Pussy nods toward the camera.

Pussy Willow: Ryan Keys heading into Blaze of Glory confident, prepared, and apparently keeping watch backstage as well. Back to you at ringside.

Ryan gives a casual salute as the camera fades out.

---

Justin Decent stands center-ring with the World Bombshells Championship raised high, the plate catching the overhead lights in hard flashes that sweep the first few rows. Bakersfield is loud and restless, less cheers or booing, more a pressure cooker of voices stacked on top of each other, because everyone understands what a main event title fight is supposed to cost.

Simone: This is the division’s crown. Crystal says it doesn’t get protected, it gets defended. Tonight, she has to prove that under the brightest lights.

Lunam: And Kayla Richards is not here for a respectful test. She’s here to take the crown back and make the point hurt.

Justin: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall and it is for the SIN CITY WRESTLING WORLD BOMBSHELLS CHAMPIONSHIP!

The lights drop.

“I will kill your dreams.”

Bad Omens’ Like a Villain hits, and Kayla steps into view with her long black hair tied back cleanly away from her face, eyes sharp and expression almost calm, calm in the way a blade is calm. She pauses at the stage as if to let the moment settle, then smirks and starts moving.

Justin: Introducing first, the challenger! From Norwich, East Anglia, England, “DREAMKILLER”… KAYLA RICHARDS!

Kayla walks with controlled impatience, fast enough to feel hungry, slow enough to feel certain. She slides into the ring on one knee, rises, forms the “K” with her hands, then flips the crowd off with both hands before dropping into finger guns aimed straight at the hard cam.

She doesn’t wait for the introductions to finish to start working, she paces, tests the ropes, then leans in close to the referee’s space just enough to crowd him, to establish that she intends to live in the margins all night.

Lunam: Strong style and submissions with speed to match. And the important note, Kayla doesn’t mind bending rules to get what she wants. She just won’t end it that way.

The arena goes black again.

A vintage black-and-white countdown appears.

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

Spotlights strike the curtain. A red carpet unrolls toward the ring as Mo Money Mo Problems kicks in. Paparazzi flashes pop in quick staccato bursts. Money with Crystal’s face on it drifts down from above in lazy spirals, catching air currents, fluttering into the first rows and sticking briefly to the ropes.

Crystal Zdunich steps out alone, chin up, posture immaculate, movie-star framing with fighter’s eyes. She hits her marks, throws her poses, owns the camera… but there’s a sharp focus underneath it tonight, she isn’t here to be decorative.

Justin: And her opponent! From Hollywood, California… representing Mexico City, Mexico… she is the reigning, defending WORLD BOMBSHELLS CHAMPION… “THE SILVER SCREEN QUEEN”… CRYSTAL ZDUNICH!

Crystal climbs the steps, glides onto the apron, and drops into a perfect split to enter the ring. As soon as she stands, the performance tightens into purpose with her hands up, shoulders set, eyes locked on Kayla.

Simone: She is smaller, but she is fast, technical, and resilient. This is a champion who wants to win clean and prove she can defend against the best.

Lunam: And Kayla is going to test the line immediately.

The referee takes the belt, holds it up. Crystal’s eyes flick to the championship like a promise. Kayla’s eyes flick to Crystal’s head and neck like a plan. The referee backs away.

DING DING DING!.

They circle.

Crystal takes center with classic measured footwork, short steps, balanced stance, hands up, chin tucked. Kayla stays low and coiled, drifting side to side like she’s searching for the angle that lets her strike first without taking one back.

They lock up, quick and sharp, and Kayla immediately cinches high pressure around the head and neck, trying to turn a standard tie-up into a crank. Crystal braces, sets her base, and pries space with forearm pressure. Kayla shoves her off and snaps a kick into Crystal’s thigh, another, then steps in with a step-up enzuigiri aimed high. Crystal gets her forearms up in time, but the impact still jars her stance and forces a blink that lingers a fraction too long.

Lunam: That’s the kind of “little” impact Kayla lives for. Tiny delays. Tiny stumbles. Then she turns it into something ugly.

Crystal answers with speed, arm drag clean as a whistle. Kayla hits, rolls through, pops up and Crystal drags her again with a second arm drag that sends Kayla sliding. Kayla springs forward irritated, and Crystal whips her over with a headscissors takedown. Kayla sits up sharply and flashes a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She rises and closes distance immediately, too quickly to let Crystal breathe.

Simone: Crystal is dictating pace early. That’s the champion’s job, make the match happen on your terms.

Kayla changes the terms by driving Crystal toward the corner in the next tie-up. The referee starts counting. Kayla breaks at four… and snaps an open-hand slap across Crystal’s face.

The sound cracks through the arena.

Kayla doesn’t retreat after the slap, she stays in Crystal’s space, shoulder angled in, using her body like a door wedge so Crystal can’t simply step out clean. The referee warns her. Kayla lifts her hands, innocent, then lets her forearm “accidentally” brush across Crystal’s throat as she backs away, just enough to make Crystal cough and bring a hand up.

Simone: That’s the line right there. Kayla’s not cheating to win… she’s cheating to tilt the ring.

Crystal steadies, jaw tight, and steps forward with a forearm, then another, driving Kayla back a step. Kayla answers with a short knee to the ribs, then a Roaring Elbow that clips the jawline. Crystal shakes it off and snaps a Chick Kick up fast, Flashing Lights catches Kayla on the cheekbone and knocks her sideways into the ropes. Crystal follows with a forearm and a snapmare, then darts in with a basement dropkick to Kayla’s back. Kayla folds forward with a sharp exhale, hand to her lower spine.

Lunam: Crystal’s doing the right thing, attack the back. Take away the base, make that Ghostlock harder to sink.

Crystal stays tight, hammerlock control, leaning weight into it, dragging Kayla down and forcing her shoulder angle into discomfort. Kayla grits her teeth and fights to her knees, then to her feet, twisting, shifting, trying to peel free. Crystal keeps pressure, trying to make Kayla carry her. Kayla finally turns it by backing Crystal into the ropes, slowly, methodically, until the referee is forced to step in for a clean break. Kayla releases… but not all the way. She keeps one hand on the back of Crystal’s head, guiding her down as if she’s breaking clean, then at the last second she shoves Crystal’s throat and upper chest into the top rope and lets the rope snap her back.

It’s quick. It’s ugly. It’s “I can make this legal if I move fast enough.”

The referee immediately reprimands her. Kayla steps away with a half shrug like it’s nothing.

Lunam: There it is. Rope abuse. Not a disqualification, not a finish, just Kayla carving out advantage in the spaces between “allowed” and “stopped.”

Crystal coughs once, shakes her shoulders loose, and fires forward anyway, double open palm strike straight into Kayla’s chest, Rotten Tomatoes lands with a sharp thud that steals air and forces Kayla back a step, shoulders jolting from the impact.

Simone: That’s a veteran counter. Crystal is not letting Kayla dictate the terms.

Crystal moves in like she’s about to transition, hands reaching, posture turning, building toward her bigger offense and Kayla, breathing hard, resets her stance with a flash of irritation in her eyes.

The match has officially crossed the line from “feeling out” to “intent.” Kayla’s irritation sharpens into decision. She stops trying to out-wrestle the champion for a moment and starts trying to corner her, physically, rhythmically, psychologically. Crystal steps in again with her hands up, but Kayla feints low and snaps a kick into the thigh, then another, forcing Crystal’s base to keep adjusting. Kayla closes fast, presses forehead-to-forehead for a heartbeat like she’s daring Crystal to blink, and then snaps a short forearm across the side of Crystal’s head, more club than strike, before the referee can even fully reposition.

Lunam: This is Kayla’s sweet spot, speed, violence, and just enough rule-bending to keep the champion reacting instead of building.

Crystal answers with motion, she slips out of a follow-up tie-up and snaps Kayla down with a quick arm drag again, then tries to clamp a wristlock and slow the pace. For a few seconds, it works, Crystal keeps Kayla’s arm extended and her shoulder angled, forcing Kayla to turn and step awkwardly to relieve pressure.

Kayla’s face tightens. She doesn’t like being held.

She twists, rolls, and drags Crystal with her, trying to pull the champion off balance, and when Crystal follows to keep control, Kayla bursts up and fires a step-up enzuigiri that clips the side of Crystal’s head as Crystal’s hands are still committed to the hold. It isn’t a knockout blow, but it’s the kind of impact that makes the arena lights feel harsher.

Simone: Crystal’s got to be careful. Those little rattles add up when you’re already compromised.

Crystal shakes her head once, hard, like she can force the fog away, and fires back with forearms to the jaw and cheekbone. Kayla absorbs them with a cold stare and answers with a sudden springboard knee strike, this one aimed higher, forcing Crystal to twist at the last second and take it across the shoulder and collarbone again. Crystal stumbles into the ropes.

Kayla follows her, close and quick, too close, and the referee steps in for the break. Kayla backs away with her hands up… then snaps her boot up and hooks it behind the bottom rope, catching Crystal’s ankle just enough to steal footing as Crystal tries to step out.

Crystal’s knee buckles a fraction. It’s subtle. It’s infuriating.

Simone: Kayla is living in the margins. That’s not a finish, but it’s a thief’s advantage.

Crystal surges forward anyway, anger sharpening her timing. She snaps Flashing Lights again, chick kick catches Kayla flush and forces her back. Crystal follows with a snapmare and darts in for another basement dropkick. Kayla rolls with it this time, turning her body so the impact catches more back and shoulder than spine, and she immediately scrambles up with a hand pressed to her lower back, expression twisting with pain and pride.

Lunam: That back is becoming a problem. Crystal is chipping away at Kayla’s base, and you can see Kayla getting mad about it.

Kayla’s response is to raise the stakes. She closes distance and starts firing, sharp kicks, one to the thigh, one to the ribs, then a Roaring Elbow that snaps Crystal’s head sideways. Crystal’s balance dips and Kayla grabs her in a front facelock, yanking tight and dragging her toward the ropes like she wants to grind the champion’s face into the cable.

The referee moves in. Kayla breaks, almost, then shoves Crystal’s upper chest into the top rope one more time and lets the rope snap her back before stepping away like she did nothing at all.

The crowd boos hard.

Crystal coughs and blinks, then plants her feet and runs at Kayla, pure determination. Kayla sidesteps and tries to sling Crystal into the corner. Crystal reverses the whip. Kayla hits the turnbuckles and turns. Crystal strikes first, a forearm, then another, then she tries to lift into a quick snap suplex out of the corner. Kayla blocks, hooks a leg behind Crystal’s and shoves her backward. Crystal staggers, Kayla spins behind and tries to cinch a rear hold, hunting the neck again.

Crystal drops her weight and turns, snapping Kayla forward, Standing Ovation! Spike hurricanrana drills Kayla down and forces a grimace that turns into a full body curl as Kayla grabs at her back.

Crystal dives into the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

Kayla kicks out, late, angry, and immediately rolling toward the ropes like she wants distance and air.

Simone: That’s the champion’s resilience. Crystal’s not just surviving, she’s finding counters and windows.

Crystal drags Kayla up by the wrist and tries to keep the pace high. She goes for Smell The Roses again, handspring into the standing moonsault. Kayla scouts it this time, rolling away earlier, and Crystal lands hard again, though not as catastrophic as before. Still, the repeated impact is starting to show in how Crystal’s shoulders rise and fall, breathing heavier, posture tightening.

Kayla pounces the moment Crystal’s knees and palms hit the canvas. She drives a short knee into the ribs, then clamps onto Crystal from behind with a bodylock and drags her down, turning it into a grinding rear chinlock, forearm across the jawline, pressure into the neck.

Lunam: Kayla’s smart. If she can’t end Crystal instantly, she’ll drag the fight into a slow suffocation.

Crystal fights to her feet, slow, deliberate, stubborn. She rams Kayla backward into the corner, once, twice, forcing the break. Kayla stumbles out, annoyed, and Crystal capitalizes with a quick backbreaker across the knee, keeping that spine target alive.

Kayla’s face contorts. She shoves Crystal off and fires a kick into the shin, then a second kick to the thigh, anything to make Crystal’s legs hesitate. She follows with a Roaring Elbow and tries to snap into Sliced Bread #2, Shiranui!

Crystal blocks and shoves Kayla into the ropes. Kayla rebounds, tries to swing, and Crystal catches her with Rotten Tomatoes, double open palm strike to the chest again, sharp enough to knock Kayla back on her heels. Crystal steps in, hands already moving, posture turning. She hooks the head under her arm and forces Kayla’s arm behind her back.

The crowd rises because they see it.

Kayla fights, back arching, legs scrambling for base, her spine screaming as she tries to resist the hammerlock angle. Crystal commits anyway. THAT’S A WRAP! Hammerlock DDT spikes Kayla clean and bounces her head and shoulders off the mat with a sickening finality.

Crystal sits back into the pin, hooking the leg tight and pulling Kayla’s hip toward her, face tense with urgency and pride.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE, NO!!!

KAYLA KICKS OUT!

The kickout is violent, Kayla launches her shoulder up with sheer refusal and immediately rolls, clutching her lower back and blinking hard as if she had to rip herself out of a dream. The crowd roars, half disbelief, half adrenaline.

Simone: THAT’S IT! THAT’S A WRAP!

Lunam: She had her! Crystal had her dead to rights! But Kayla Richards is too prideful to stay down.

Crystal sits up, breathing hard, wiping at the corner of her mouth again, eyes narrowed. The frustration threatens to spill into recklessness, but she reins it in, forcing her posture back into control. Crystal looks down at Kayla with the exact conviction she promised, the title doesn’t get protected. It gets defended, against the best, against the meanest, against the women who come for your throat. She’s proving it with sweat and impact, not speeches.

Kayla drags herself toward the ropes and uses them to pull up, spine stiff, expression furious. She meets Crystal’s eyes and you can see the thought in her face: Fine. If you want to be a “fighting champion,” I’ll make you suffer for it.

Simone: This match has changed. You can feel it.

Lunam: Kayla’s about to stop playing with the idea of winning and start committing to ending Crystal’s night.

Crystal rises first, steadying her stance, hands up, trying to anticipate the next storm. Kayla pushes off the ropes with a stiff grimace that reads like pain being converted into intent. Her lower back is tight, every extension costs her, but her eyes are colder now, and the way she squares her shoulders says she’s done negotiating for space. Crystal rises first, hands up, forcing her breathing under control. The split at the corner of her lip has dried into a thin red mark. She blinks once, then steadies her gaze on Kayla like she’s refusing to let the lights turn into a haze.

Simone: Crystal has taken everything Kayla’s thrown at her, and she’s still standing. That’s what a fighting champion looks like.

Lunam: And Kayla’s patience is gone. When she gets mad, she gets efficient.

They collide mid-ring. Forearm meets forearm, then Kayla snaps a kick into the thigh to soften Crystal’s base and follows with a Roaring Elbow that clips the jawline. Crystal absorbs it and answers with a sharp forearm of her own, then a second, trying to keep Kayla at striking distance where she can read her timing. Kayla changes levels abruptly and grabs a front facelock, wrenching the head down and turning her body so Crystal’s neck is forced into an angle. She drags her two steps, steering her toward the ropes.

The referee closes in, warning her.

Kayla breaks, almost, then gives one last tight shove to the back of Crystal’s head that snaps her throat and upper chest into the top rope before she steps away like she did nothing.

Simone: Kayla keeps flirting with that line.

Lunam: That’s how she works. She won’t win by cheating, she’ll just make sure you’re weaker when the clean part arrives.

Crystal coughs, shakes her shoulders once like she’s trying to reset her spine, and fires forward, Flashing Lights snaps up fast and catches Kayla on the cheek. Kayla staggers, more annoyed than hurt, and Crystal follows with a snapmare, trying to reassert control.

Crystal darts in for a basement dropkick again!

Kayla anticipates it and twists her body just enough that the impact clips higher on the shoulder blade rather than directly across the spine. Kayla still winces, still reaches for her lower back, but she uses the motion to roll through and come up faster, closing the gap before Crystal can stand clean. Kayla grabs Crystal from behind and clamps a tight rear hold, forearm riding under the jawline. Crystal’s face tightens. Kayla’s grip is oppressive, less “hold,” more “pressure,” the kind that drains breath.

Crystal pries at the wrist, fights to her feet, and rams Kayla backward into the corner once… twice… forcing the break again. Kayla stumbles out, jaw clenched, and snaps a kick into Crystal’s shin as Crystal steps forward, small, sharp, meant to steal balance.

Crystal’s knee dips a fraction. Kayla pounces on that fraction with a second Roaring Elbow that snaps Crystal’s head sideways. Crystal sways, just a moment, and the crowd swells because they can see the concussion fog threatening to creep in.

Simone: Crystal has to keep her wits right now.

Kayla tries to turn it into an ending, she hooks for Sliced Bread #2, pulling Crystal into position. Crystal blocks it with pure stubborn base, shoving Kayla away and answering with Rotten Tomatoes, double open palm strike into the chest. The thud is loud enough to steal air again, and Kayla stumbles back, shoulders jolting. Crystal steps in, hands already moving, hunting the hammerlock angle for That’s A Wrap a second time.

Kayla twists out just in time and drives a short knee into the ribs, then whips Crystal toward the corner. Crystal reverses at the last instant, Kayla hits the turnbuckles, and Crystal surges in with forearms, trying to trap her there. Kayla covers up, then shoves out of the pocket and snaps an enzuigiri that clips the side of Crystal’s head as Crystal presses forward.

Crystal stumbles out of the corner. Kayla follows and whips her to the ropes. Crystal rebounds and tries to cut Kayla off, Kayla blasts through with a forearm, then another, and the third is a stiff shot that knocks Crystal back a step and forces her to blink hard under the glare.

Lunam: That’s Kayla’s rhythm. She doesn’t need five seconds of advantage, she needs half a second.

Crystal shakes her head once, jaw set, and suddenly changes direction, she breaks into a run, leaps, and springs herself toward the corner, climbing with urgency. The crowd rises because they recognize the intent. Crystal steadies on the top rope, shoulders tensed, breathing heavy, eyes narrowing like she’s lining up a shot through the lights.

Simone: Roll The Credits, she’s looking to end it!

Crystal launches, Roll The Credits frog splash, Kayla rolls away at the last possible instant. Crystal crashes hard, shoulder and chest taking the brunt, body folding on impact. The ring shakes. Crystal’s hands clutch the canvas for a heartbeat as she tries to push up, but her head lifts a fraction too slowly, like the world is dragging.

Kayla stands over her, back still tight, but her expression is pure calculation now. She takes one step back. Then drives forward.

DREAMKILLER!

The V-Trigger lands flush, clean, brutal, snapping Crystal’s head back and dropping her like the switch got flipped. The crowd detonates into shock-noise, a wave that hits the rafters. Kayla doesn’t celebrate. She drops into the cover immediately, hooking the leg tight, forcing the referee down.

ONE!

TWO!

TH,!!

Crystal barely kicks out, shoulder twisting up at the last fraction, more instinct than strength.

Simone: SHE KICKED OUT!

Lunam: That’s survival. That’s pure survival.

Kayla’s face twists with anger. She sits up slowly, breathing hard, eyes narrowed at Crystal like she’s offended by the refusal. She doesn’t argue with the referee. She doesn’t look for shortcuts. She decides to end it another way.

Kayla drags Crystal up by the torso, slides behind her, and locks her arms around Crystal’s waist, tight bodylock. Then she snakes her forearm under the chin and clamps down.

GHOSTLOCK.

Dragon sleeper with the bodylock cinched, tight and suffocating. Crystal’s eyes widen immediately. Her hands fly to Kayla’s forearm, clawing at it, trying to create even a sliver of space. Her knees scrape the canvas as she tries to crawl, instinctively, toward the ropes.

Kayla drags her back. Inch by inch, she pulls Crystal away from the ropes, away from the corners, away from any easy escape. Kayla’s base is low and disciplined despite the back pain, the bodylock makes it worse, but she’s willing to hurt if it means Crystal hurts more.

Simone: Crystal has to get to the ropes. She has to get out of the center.

Lunam: Kayla’s not letting her. That’s the difference between winning… and taking someone out.

Crystal fights, one surge forward, fingertips reaching, Kayla tightens and shifts her weight, re-centering the hold. Crystal tries to roll her shoulder, Kayla adjusts and cinches harder, jaw clenched, eyes furious.

The referee drops down, checking Crystal’s responsiveness, asking if she can continue.

Crystal does not tap. She reaches again. Her fingers scrape canvas. They miss rope by feet that feel like miles.

Kayla squeezes until the fight drains into slower motion, until Crystal’s reaching becomes less coordinated, until her resistance becomes smaller.

The referee lifts Crystal’s arm.

It drops.

He lifts it again.

It drops.

He lifts it a third time.

Crystal’s arm falls limp.

The referee calls for the bell immediately.

DING DING DING!

Kayla releases at once and rolls away, chest heaving, eyes still hard. Crystal remains on her side near center ring, breathing shallow, blinking slow, hands trembling faintly as officials move in to check her.

Justin: Here is your winner by referee stoppage! AND NEW WORLD BOMBSHELLS CHAMPION! “DREAMKILLER” KAYLA RICHARDS!

Kayla snatches the championship the moment it’s offered and raises it high with both hands, shoulders squared, chin lifted, no joy, only possession. She drapes it over her shoulder and paces slowly, eyes flicking between the hard cam and the fallen champion like she’s daring anyone to call it anything but decisive.

Kayla’s body language makes the point she promised all along, this title isn’t a prop, it isn’t a backdrop, if you want to wear it, you carry the division with it. And Kayla Richards just proved she’ll take that responsibility by force.

Simone: Crystal never tapped. She never quit. She fought until her body couldn’t. That protects her as champion, but it also tells you how dangerous Kayla Richards really is.

Lunam: Clean. Brutal. And now the division belongs to the woman who prides herself on ending stories.

Crystal is helped into a seated position. She blinks hard against the lights, wipes at the corner of her mouth, and steadies her posture with visible effort, anger replacing fog as she realizes what happened. Her eyes lift to Kayla, narrowed, jaw clenched, refusing to look broken even while she’s being checked.

Kayla answers by lifting the belt again, higher, slower, making the gesture feel like a verdict. Then she steps through the ropes, drops to the floor, and backs up the ramp with the World Bombshells Championship on her shoulder, never rushing, never apologizing, never looking uncertain. The division feels colder as she leaves. And Kayla Richards looks like she intends to keep it that way.

The camera lingers on Crystal Caldwell at ringside as officials and medical staff continue to check her, her face set in pure stubborn fire even through the exhaustion.

Then the shot cuts hard to the stage where Kayla Richards stands in silhouette beneath the tron, World Bombshells Championship over her shoulder like it was always meant to be there.

She turns, gives one last cold glance back toward the ring, and keeps walking.

Simone: What a statement in our main event tonight. Crystal Caldwell gave every ounce she had, and I mean every ounce, but tonight belonged to Kayla Richards.

Lunam: Aye, and there’s no debate left in it now. New champion, new standard, and the whole division just got put on notice in the harshest way possible.

The show rolls through one final highlight package, the strikes, the counters, the turning point, the stoppage, and the announcement that changed the landscape.

Kayla’s face flashes on screen again and again, calm and merciless, while the crowd buzz swells back up into a steady roar.

Simone: Bakersfield, you were electric all night long. From all of us at Sin City Wrestling, thank you for spending your Sunday with us. We do not take that support for granted.

Lunam: Not for a second. Thank ye for every shout, every chant, every mad bit of noise ye brought tonight. Ye made this one feel massive, and now we’ve got a brand new World Bombshells Champion to carry into next week.

Simone: And speaking of next week, SCW makes its debut in Kent, Washington! Brand new city, huge fights, and after what we witnessed tonight, you can feel how much is about to change.

Lunam: Kent, get ready, because SCW is bringin’ chaos with it. New champ at the top, contenders circlin’ like wolves, and a locker room that just watched Kayla Richards take the crown by force.

Simone: For Lunam, I’m Simone, saying goodnight from Bakersfield. We’ll see you next week in Kent for another edition of Climax Control.

Lunam: Goodnight, folks. Travel safe, and we’ll see ye in Washington.

The broadcast appears ready to fade out, but cuts to one last live shot.

Kayla is back inside the ring, standing on the middle turnbuckle facing the hard cam, the World Bombshells Championship raised high above her head with both hands.

No smile. No nod. Just a stare that says this was only the beginning.

The camera zooms in tight on the center plate gleaming under the lights as the screen finally fades to black.

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THANK YOU! To everyone who wrote for this show. Match writers and segments are always appreciated and highly valued! Without all of you, there would be no SCW!

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