An extra ass event logo for an extra ass tournament? Why the hell not. The STAPLES Center is PACKED to capacity with alot of eager fans and rowdy Snuff Fest participants, ready to get in there and get it done. If you think of this tournament as a wet dream then you’re probably a deathmatch fanatic. If this tournament will turn your stomach then why are you here? Why spend money on tickets to a show where you’ll end up running off to the bathroom and getting sick like a frightened teenage boy watching his first ever gory film? Yes I’m talking to you, the Ellsworth lookalike who resembles a bedbug that has a ripped ECW shirt on and brought his new tattooist girlfriend here to show that he’s ‘tough’ enough to take in events such as these. The founder of this tournament is a psychopath, do you think that she stopped at plain old steel chairs and tables for this tournament? Speaking of…

There’s nothing left here to talk about
There’s nothing left here to talk about
There’s nothing left here to talk about…”

And there she is…. the raven haired, emerald eyed, walk it like she talk it hostess of the night in her black leather pants and a wicked smile decorating her face. Mic in hand, she pauses on the stage as she soaks in the cheers and screams with an expression that shows that she’s looking ready for tonight. Heading down the ramp, veering to the right with her hand out to palm some eager fans hands to show them love before heading over to the left side to slap more hands. Heading up the steel stairs, Phoenix looks around the arena with a proud smile at all of the weapons displayed out there. One might think that she went overboard but I mean, could you really have enough weapons for a deathmatch? Dipping down to enter between the middle and top ropes, Phoenix makes her way to the center of the ring and takes in loud booming cheers for a moment before she raises the mic to her lips after her music fades.

“I bought all this SAAAUUUUCCCEEEEE to the STAPLES center tonight, baby!”

Pauses so the audience can react to her old intro from the wrestling days, smiling at how hype the fans get.

“The Sauce Boss, The Shade Goddess, The Queen, Your motherfucking President is here tonight to tell you that it’s about to get real up in here, suga. I mean, yall trying to see a dead body or what?”

She laughs at the enthusiastic crowd as she gives a shake of her head.

“28 competitors tonight…. competing for the chance to advance onto the second round of this tournament and even further until only two are left to face off in the final round for the 2019 Snuff Fest Winner rights, a beautiful trophy and of course…. 1.5 million dollars. Initially, I had stated last year that I was going to throw a deathmatch tournament after seeing so many people claim to be deathmatch. Mostly women were doing it at that moment with all these bag of baby carrots weighing females, sucking blood off their fingers and swearing they were about that life. Amazing… they did not sign up for this tournament. Guess the ocean was too deep for them, they weren’t really sharks after all….. anywho. I’m pretty sure there are doubters about this tournament with most knowing I have the ability to pull off a deathmatch tournament because when have my events EVER been bad? My events are always entertaining and downright worth it, even the antis always find my stuff in their mouth while trying to suck on it long enough in hopes to get some shine off it.”

A mild shrug she gives with a playful roll of her eyes before she nods her head towards the stage.

“Before I introduce my lovely co-commentator for this tournament who will be joining me out here in a bit, I wanted to say how much of an honor that it is to have him joining me for this tournament. He was mentioned in my ‘Keep That Same Energy’ pilot-“
“Now now, no it is not Bronx but.. shoutout to my goldenboy. I love you.”

She blows a kiss to the screen before raising the mic back up to her full lips.

“Now… I could go into a full monologue about this great man but what could I say that you already didn’t know? Even the ones who pretend as if he’s not one of the greatest or one of the most feared…. know damn well they wouldn’t utter those words in the same ring as him. A man I stan, a man I will always support…. please give it up for….”
“Judge me for what I am
The passage of death
You don’t play, you don’t win
You change nothing
You gain nothing
Everybody’s out from here on in”

The audience is on their feet as they welcome Bryan Laughlin with showing him lots of love. The Bang chuggin’, supplement dealin’, body breakin’ lord was here as his 4CW Championship is draped over his broad, right shoulder and he’s pushing a mini fridge on wheels with being ready for the festivities. Phoenix looks on with a wide smile as the audience continues to go wild, the 4CW fans in attendance shouting louder because they know who their King is and he’s returned… even if it’s to take in the action ongoing in his natural habitat, being the deathmatch royalty that he is. The co-commentators give each other a wave and a smile as he’s pushing that mini fridge over to where the gold and bronze decorated table fit for a king is positioned, serving as the commentator’s table. Laughlin makes himself comfortable in one of the two golden thrones that’s seated at the table as his music begins to fade out and Phoenix points her hand at him.

“We’re not worthy…. goddamn, we’re not worthy. BUT, are yall ready to get this started?!”

The obvious answer of the audience utilizing their lungs to be loud as hell is heard as a chuckling Phoenix nods her head at them.

“Well then, shit. Let’s get to it then.”
Cameras cut to roll a previously recorded video. The man known as The Antagonist Gabriel Laroux stood in front of a white backdrop, the occasional changing of pose, would be the focal point of this particular piece. His attire for the shoot would consist of an opened black jacket over his bared torso, a pair of khaki colored slacks secured to his waist by means of a black leather belt.
A suggestive look broke out across the face of the eldest Laroux, the photographer snapping a few more shots in the process. Gabriel discarded the jacket to reveal his muscular, oiled up torso. With the sound of the camera clicking, Gabriel reached down to undo the belt, unbuttoning and unzipping those slacks before kicking them off to the side. Now standing there in nothing but a pair of white boxer briefs. After a few more poses, Gabriel brought his hand up, waving the tops of his fingers across his throat, the cameraman stopping his picture taking.
Gabriel began to walk towards the one recording the footage. Stopping a couple feet ahead of him, he slowly brought his arms to cross them at his chest. Slowly, a grin grew out across his features, giving a slow nod of his head as the expression filled out.

Gabriel Laroux

Unfolding those arms, he moved them about as if to present himself for emphasis before recrossing them at his chest.

Gabriel Laroux
“Is what you hate, Matt? The attractive model type? Why is that? Is it because I have a body, chiseled out of stone? Is it because I have a face that people pay for? I’m over here, living the best possible life a guy with my background can live. I’ve got the woman, so far out of your league, you couldn’t even imagine being with her. I can go anywhere. I can do anything. I can be anything. And then there’s you.”

The amused look that had broke through as he described himself quickly shifted into a look of disgust as soon as the subject was changed.

Gabriel Laroux
“You’re an abomination. Scarred flesh. Disfigured face. Like something that’s crawled out of a gutter. You feel of desperation and ignorance. Literal shit on the sole of my boot. You couldn’t attract a rat in a cornfield. So, what do you do? You subject yourself to literal torture, furthering your disfigurement. And for what? To be accepted. To be praised. What’s that like? Having to practically kill yourself just for attention..just for a few cheers. I’m going to clue you in on something, Deathrow King, they’re not cheering you because they like you, they’re cheering because this world is filled with sick individuals who enjoy nothing more than to see grungy little punks like yourself get bludgeoned.”

A slight chuckle rolled free as Gabriel brought his arms up, positioning them behind his head.

Gabriel Laroux
“I’ve already wasted enough time with you, so I’ll leave you with this. With me being the thing you hold with such contempt and hatred..what’s it going to do when I put you down like the mangy cur you are? I guarantee you. Don’t take my looks as anything more than what they are. The things you do with barbed wire and lighttubes, I’m more than capable of doing with my own two hands. I hope you’re ready to find out for yourself. I’ll see you soon.”

And with that, Gabriel waved off the cameraman before speaking inaudibly rather loudly, calling the photographer back to do his job. The scene cut back away, moving on.

Sounded by ropes wrapped in barbed wire, Deathrow and Laroux kept things towards the center of the ring early in the match. With various weapons spread across the canvas, it didn’t take long for someone to finally get their hands on something to bash their opponents skull in. Clocking Deathrow upside the head with a staple gun, Gabriel knocked him back a couple of steps, leaving him stunned as his feet finally settled. With the staple gun in hand, Gabriel quickly pressed it against Deathrow’s chest before firing at will, lodging numerous staples into his flesh. After a loud battlecry, Deathrow brushed his arm over his chest, managing to knock a few of the staples loose before throwing a backhand and connecting with Gabriel’s face. Knocking Gabriel off balance, Deathrow quickly kneeled to the mat, grabbing a light tube before popping back to his feet. While rising, he swung the light tube with a side arm motion, shattering it across the side of Gabriel’s face! Kicking Gabriel in the stomach, Deathrow then lifted him off his feet before throwing him back down to the glass covered mat with a body slam. Scanning the mat for a moment, Deathrow spotted two more light tubes earby. Now holding both of them, he ran towards Gabriel. Jumping into the air, Deathrow extended both legs, maneuvering the light tubes underneath them as he came down onto Gabriel’s face with a leg drop!

Still in control minutes after, Deathrow had Gabriel backed against the corner with nowhere to go. Swinging with rapid lefts and rights, Deathrow unloaded on Gabriel at will. Throwing what was supposed to be the last punch to finish Gabriel off, Deathrow’s arm was caught just inches before his fist contacted Gabe’s face. Pulling Deathrow in, Gabriel lunged his head forward, cracking Deathrow with a headbutt right between the eyes. Grabbing Deathrow by the head with both hands, Gabriel then pulled him in again, this time slamming him face down onto the barbed wire covered turnbuckle! The barbs immediately cut Deathrow’s face open, spilling his blood down to the canvas. Pulling Deathrow away from the corner, Gabriel then lifted him into the air before throwing him stomach down onto the top barbed wire covered rope. Deathrow fought to free himself but couldn’t. The barbs were piercing his flesh, keeping him in place. Grabbing Deathrow from behind, Gabriel pulled him along the rope, dragging Deathrow over the barbed wire as it continued cutting and digging into his flesh. With Deathrow stuck in place, Gabriel carefully climbed through the ropes, stepping out onto the apron without a scratch. Pulling Deathrow off the ropes and down to the apron, Gabriel then positioned himself face to face with Deathrow. Wrapping both hands around Deathrow’s throat, Gabriel then lifted him up into the air, his feet dangling inches above the apron. Stepping forward, Gabriel then threw Deathrow away from the ring and straight down onto a table wrapped entirely with razor wire!


Gabriel then proceeded to make a mess of the ringside area with Deathrow’s body. Leaning against the side of the ring, the were a couple of one inch thick panes of glass. Pulling Deathrow up from a pile a shattered glass, Gabriel locked onto his wrist. Using his momentum from pulling him up, Gabriel then went to throw Deathrow towards the panes of glass. Before Gabriel could release his wrist, Deathrow locked onto his, planting his foot and reversing the whip, sending Grabriel crashing face first into the first pane of glass. The impact of Gabriel’s body wasn’t enough to break the glass, not even a tiny crack! Rushing in from behind, Deathrow leaped feet first into the air, planting them both into the back of Gabriel and knocking him through the pane of glass as it finally shattered. Gabriel fell forward, catching himself on the side of the ring. Pulling him in, Deathrow then kicked Gabriel in the stomach, forcing him to double over. Leaving Gabriel bent over, Deathrow then turned to the last glass pane. Dragging it along the side of the ring, Deathrow pulled it to the corner, where he then propped it against the ringside steps with a much smaller incline. Walking back to Gabriel, Deathrow dragged him over to the table like pane of glass propped against the steps. Stepping onto it, Deathrow pulled Gabriel’s head between his legs before lifting him upside down. Holding him in place for a few moments, and leaving the fans on the edge of their seats in silence, Deathrow then dropped Gabriel on his head with a piledriver, destroying the pane of glass on impact and bringing life back into the arena. With Gabriel unconscious and covered in his own blood, Deathrow then made the cover as the official slid in with the count.


Deathrow has shown tonight what real deathmatch is all about as he talks trash into the camera, telling the cameraman to come closer as he cuts a promo on making more examples out of people who want to come into the deathmatch zone and make a mockery of it with their shitty curiosity and edgelord costumes.

Backstage we find two newcomers to Four Corners Wrestling – hardcore veteran Kevin Hardaway and his wife Ruby, standing on either side of a black trunk. The two of them are dressed for the ring, Ruby in an olive green tank top and black pants and boots, while her husband is wrapping white tape around his hands in preparation for their upcoming matches. Both of them bear scars from battles they’ve fought over the years, Kevin somewhat more banged up owing to his longer tenure in the business. But it’s clear from the looks on their faces that both of them know what they’re in for tonight. Kevin doesn’t seem overly concerned, though Ruby looks a little worried – she’s seen what Kevin and Dexter Jacobs have done to each other in their previous matches and she knows that her husband’s life could very well be in danger the moment he steps in that ring.
But that’s also what makes it fun for the both of them, so she cracks a smile.

Ruby Tyler-Hardaway
“Fourth time’s the charm for you and Redneck Hulk, huh?”

He doesn’t immediately respond to her, instead continuing to wrap up the tape on his wrists. Maybe he didn’t hear her, or maybe he just doesn’t have an answer to his wife’s question just now.

Ruby Tyler-Hardaway
“Umm…did you hear what I just said?”

Kevin looks up and nods, ripping the leftover tape off his wrist and finishing up.

Ruby Tyler-Hardaway
“Fourth time’s the charm, right?”
Kevin Hardaway
“I guess so. Just…what else can I really say here that hasn’t already been said or even done before? I’ll say my keep, he’ll call me “trash”, he’ll call you a cunt, we’ll beat the shit out of one another, it’s a tale as old as time. This…you know, he doesn’t even deserve to be called a human being, because he’s the farthest thing from it. The last time that we even looked at each other in that ring, I got a concussion from him dropping my head onto the wood underneath the ring.
And now we’re destined to do this at least one more time. This time, there’s nothing that is stopping us. I wasn’t kidding about calling the LAPD or the SWAT department. I seriously feel like one of us is going to die in that ring. And I’m…at ease. I feel at ease about this. Is that weird?”

Ruby shrugs and sits next to her husband, putting her arm on his shoulder and resting her chin on her hand.

Ruby Tyler-Hardaway
“Maybe it’s because you know you’re not gonna die here. No matter what Dexter Jacobs says. Man says the same shit over and over again, posts a few John Wick gifs on Twitter, but in three matches I don’t think he’s said a single original thing.”
Kevin Hardaway
“Because he doesn’t have to. You’ve seen the hell we have caused around the world…or at least in Tijuana. He doesn’t know when to stop. But here’s the thing about me…you know that in the times that we’ve almost killed one another…he may have gotten the pins, but I still walk away on my two feet. Even on our darkest days, he hasn’t finished the job. And he keeps running his mouth like he has. He’s a fucking coward and it shows throughout.”
Ruby Tyler-Hardaway
“Your cunt wife is the only one who gets the honor of killing you. Till death do us part, and all that. See, if it were me, I would’ve structured this so that I’d potentially get you two in the finals, but closing off the first show with this is also gonna grab people’s attention. I’m kinda wondering though… you think they’d set it up so they could potentially get you and me in the finals? Provided, of course, that I get past Brytain Rollins.”

Ruby rolls her eyes at the mention of her opponent’s name.

Ruby Tyler-Hardaway
“Brytain Rollins, current Underground Bloodlust Champion, who… you’re facing tomorrow night. “

She blinks a few times and then shakes her head.

Ruby Tyler-Hardaway
“Guess the universe decided she needed to get a two-for-one Hardaway special this week. Anyway. Brytain’s a hardcore legend, I know that. And if I didn’t know that, she’s done a pretty decent job of making herself out to be the God-Queen of Hardcore Wrestling, She Who Has Nearly Murdered Everyone… but god fucking forbid you point out that she could lose. Whatever you’ve done? She doesn’t care. She’s done it longer and better than you could POSSIBLY imagine, and she’s damn near killed everyone you can think of. Yes, even that guy. But when I point out that you’ve been doing this twice as long as she has, she suddenly goes quiet. Because she got her facts wrong, and she didn’t like being called on it.”
Ruby Tyler-Hardaway
“I respect what Brytain’s done in this business. But I also don’t give two shits about someone who’s gonna decide that only their shit matters. Oh, but Ruby, she’s just trolling you – yeah, I know. It’s why I stay the hell off social media most of the time, because whenever anyone’s on their bullshit, this is the excuse – they’re just trolling, they’re just trying to get a rise out of you, they’re living rent free in your head – I hate that phrase, by the way. I hate everything that has to do with talking about my matches because nothing I say fucking matters. I could talk till I’m blue in the face and if I don’t get it done in that ring? Then all of it’s just been wasted breath and wasted energy. And I am not a woman who likes to waste either of those things.”
Ruby Tyler-Hardaway
“Some of the edgelords in this tournament have gotten it right – this ain’t about social media showdowns. This is about fucking someone’s shit up in the ring, and getting through each round till we have a winner. I want to win – that money would set my stepdaughter Kim up for life. It’d pay off my student debt from getting my PhD. There’s a lot of uses I have for that cash. And if Brytain Rollins thinks that all it takes is her bragging about nearly killing Dexter Jacobs to do it? Then she doesn’t know who she’s dealing with.”
Ruby Tyler-Hardaway
“And that’s okay, because who can expect the Great and Powerful Brytain to do a little bit of fucking research? I know I don’t have her accolades. I know I don’t have her years of experience. But what I do have is a brain in my head and a reckless disregard for my own personal safety. For this tournament, for Four Corners’ Snuff Fest? That’s enough. I know it’ll take everything I have to put Brytain Rollins down. And I’m willing to go to those lengths because I will not have this pink-haired bitch crowing about how great she is and how shit I am, no matter what it took to get that win. I will not be undersold.”

With that, Kevin kind of takes a deep breath and looks at his wife in the eyes.

Kevin Hardaway
“You know, for someone who said nothing I say fucking matters, that was certainly one hell of a rant you went on there, sug.”

He sticks his tongue out at her and she responds with a playful shove to him, in which he does the same back.

Ruby Tyler-Hardaway
“Look, this is why I don’t do this shit on Twitter. So I’ll have something to say here, because I’m contractually obligated to say shit promoting my match.”
Kevin Hardaway
“Just do me a favor and make sure that we’re still on an even playing field after you kick the shit out of Brytain, okay?”
Ruby Tyler-Hardaway
“Good for me, babe.”
Kevin Hardaway
“And I’ll do my half by making sure that Dexter can’t ever walk on his two feet ever again. And if you believe that you’re going to win this whole shebang and get all that money for yourself…think again. Now…at least we both agree that Kim is set for college regardless of whether or not me or you win this, but with this money…we can get a better place to live, we can do a lot. But we need to survive first, and we got a hell of a road ahead of us. But it’s nothing that we haven’t done before, right?”
Kevin Hardaway
“Let’s go to war, shall we?”
Ruby Tyler-Hardaway
“Just like old times. I love you, jackass. Don’t die.”
Kevin Hardaway
“Love you too, sug. Same to you.”

The Hardaways then pick up their trunk and head toward the ring, side by side and ready for whatever this tournament is about to throw at them.


Parking lot, somewhere in LA, in the early, early hours. Before the sun has even bothered to show its face to the city, and even longer before the majority of the residents have begun to stir.
Not that any of that shit matters.
The only real concern is the figure currently taking up the lion’s share of the frame: the well over six-and-a-half feet of raw, unmitigated hate known as Dexter Jacobs. The frame shifts and jostles a moment as the “Redneck Hulk” paces back and forth, already practically seething with anger.

Dexter Jacobs
“Fuck this tournament.”

The words come in that ragged, guttural tone, the scar tissue still evident on Jacobs’ jaw from the night Agente Naranja nearly made good on his attempt to rip the man’s mouth apart with razor wire. The pacing slows to a halt, and he runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back as he focuses a bit more intently on the matter at hand.

Dexter Jacobs
“Fuck the tournament. Fuck 1.5 million. Fuck each an’ every last one of these limp-wristed motherfuckers tryin’ to live vicariously through this shit. I don’t give a fuck ‘bout it. ‘Bout any of it. The money. The recognition. Y’all think this shit fuckin’ matters? Y’all think, maybe I win that money, maybe I make a name, I’ll fuckin’ MATTER?”

Jacobs sneers, spitting, the disgust even more evident on his face.

Dexter Jacobs
“Pathetic. Each an’ every last one of y’all are fuckin’ pathetic. Y’all wanna grasp that brass ring so Goddamn bad, wanna prove you’re the baddest motherfucker in the buildin’, take home that money t’ feed your wife an’ kids or buy a new Maserati or do Coke off some porn star’s ass for a fuckin’ week…Y’all wanna be SOMEBODY so fuckin’ bad you’re willin’ t’ kill for it?”

Dex sneers, a harsh chuckle echoing from the back of his throat.

Dexter Jacobs
“Then I’m gonna make sure there ain’t a single one of y’all sorry motherfuckers who gets what y’all want. I don’t give a fuck ‘bout winnin’. I don’t give a fuck ‘bout braggin’ rights. I don’t care ‘bout the fuckin’ money. All I care ‘bout…is makin’ motherfucker’s suffer. I’m the fuckin’ cost that comes with all these bullshit dreams ‘n aspirations, y’follow me? I’m the fuckin’ bill ‘at comes due, end of the day.

Y’all wanna keep reachin’ for the stars, I’m gonna keep draggin’ y’all right back down here in the shit where y’all belong. Jus’ like me. Til one of y’all has the fuckin’ ingredients t’ finish what they start, that is. Til one of y’all has the fuckin’ guts t’ play for blood an’ see it through t’ the end.”

Jacobs shakes his head, running his fingers over the scar tissue at his jawline, letting that thought sink in fully before he continues.

Dexter Jacobs
“Ain’t gonna be you though, is it, pisspot? Nah…Ain’t gonna be ol’ Kev. Second I saw your name on that fuckin’ list, I knew. I knew what they was gonna do, from the second I saw your narrow ass signed ‘cross that dotted line. I knew they was gonna try an’ cash in. Make money off the Hell I put ya’ll through, throwin’ us together again. An’ I’m glad. Real fuckin’ glad, for once in my fuckin’ life, ‘cause…I know what they ain’t, Kev. I know what your cunt wife ain’t figured out, what that obnoxious little shit-eater kid of yours needs t’ learn…I know what the world, somehow, after three fuckin fights, after all the scrappin’ an’ clawin’ an’ bleedin’ an’ bone breakin’…What somehow, after I nearly put y’all in the fuckin’ ground down in Mexico…they ain’t figured out yet.
You’re gutless, Kevin.
You buck up t’ the fight, sure. An’ you’ll give it Hell. You beat my ass pillar to post every time out, I ain’t ever denied that. But when it comes down to killin’ time? When it comes time to play for blood? Motherfucker you ain’t got the ingredients. You ain’t ever had the ingredients. An’ you ain’t ever GONNA have ‘em.”

Jacobs paces for a moment, practically snarling the words.

Dexter Jacobs
“I came t’ you for a fuckin’ fight. Only thing I ever said was t’ finish what you fuckin’ started. Three times. I gave y’all THREE FUCKIN’ SHOTS…an’ y’all missed. Every God DAMN time. Because you ain’t got the balls t’ finish the job, Kevin. Hell, that fuckin’ harpy you married got more guts than y’all do. I’m tired. Tired of folks puttin’ y’all up. Tired of y’all pretendin’ that you got it in you when I gave you the shot, point blank, an’ y’all failed. So here’s what’s gonna happen, pisspot. We’re gonna go back to Hell again. I’m gonna drag you right back down in the shit. We’re gonna bleed, we’re gonna break bones…You’re gonna fight all your narrow as can, an then I’m gonna step on your fuckin’ neck, one last fuckin’ time. I’m gonna send you home to that pancake assed twat, broken, beat, DONE….so she finally sees y’all for what y’all are. I’m gonna send you home to your rat-fuck kid, a disappointment, one more Goddamn time…So she realizes her Daddy ain’t SHIT. I ain’t makin’ threats. I ain’t gonna say I’m gonna kill y’all, I ain’t gonna tell y’all about all the grandiose shit that’s gonna happen after I break y’all. I don’t give a fuck ‘bout winnin’ the match. I don’t give a fuck ‘bout this tournament. I’m here…to make y’all SUFFER. An’ that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Y’all ain’t gonna get to ride on ol Dex’s name no more. You’re gonna sit at home, tryin’ t’ piece ya’ll body back t’gether, an’ every single day? You’re gonna remember. You’re gonna have t’ see the way ol’ Ruby can’t look y’all in the eye anymore. You’re gonna have to watch that disgust in your kid’s eyes every time Daddy can’t get right ‘cause of what ol’ Dex Jacobs did to ‘em.
When we’re done tonight? They ain’t ever gonna mention your name in the same breath as mine again. They ain’t ever gonna go down this road again…Cause when they look at you, Kev? When they see the fuckin’ shambles I dragged down here into the shit with the rest of us? They’re gonna see the same thing I seen since that night in Mexico.”

A momentary pause, as Dexter makes the next words a curse.

Dexter Jacobs
“A fuckin’ disappointment.”

With that, the frame spins wildly, jostling out of control, before the feed cuts to black.

Kevin Hardaway stares intensely at the stage from the ring, awaiting his opponent with knowing it was going to be a long night for the both of them. The lights drop and pulse in rhythm as the introduction to “A History Of Bad Men” by The Melvins rolls through the arena, drawing a raucous amount of boos from the crowd. The intro rolls on for a few moments before the heavy guitars of the verse rip through the loudspeakers and Dexter Jacobs steps onto the ramp. He pauses, cracking his neck slightly, adjusting the tape on his hands a final time.
Santana Mentez
“And making his way to the ring from Los Angeles, California and…”

Jacobs shakes his head at Santana, not wanting the nickname announced since he can’t stand it. Santana snickers and skips past it.

Santana Mentez
“Give it up for Dexteeeeeer Jacobs!”

He gives the crowd a glance, sneers and pounds a hand on his chest a few times before making his way down to the ring, entirely focused on the task ahead, giving the crowd no recognition as he makes his way around ringside. He steps up onto the apron, making his way to the middle of the ropes before looking back out at the crowd again, glaring at the crowd and shutting down anyone who happens to be heckling nearby with a few choice words. He then steps through the ropes, making his way toward the middle, where he pauses to throw a single fist in the air with his head bowed, drawing even more boos as he soaks in the reaction a moment, sneering at the official and ring announcer before he makes his way to the corner, pacing back and forth like a caged animal once there before he finally acknowledges Hardaway as he makes it to sneering in his face.
Jacobs is heavily on the shit talk, calling Ruby all kinds of cunts with a smirk as Hardaway is sick and tired of Jacobs disrespecting his wife. Fixing the wrist tape on his right arm, Hardaway stares down the trash talking Jacobs who even laughs a few times at some of the comical shit he’s saying to Hardaway that’s getting under his skin. The bell rings and Jacobs clocks Hardaway in the face as hard as he can and says cheekily, ‘rise and shine, princess’. In response Hardaway stares at Jacobs the hatred and malice from so many encounters in the past between them. Hardaway throws the middle finger salute right in Jacobs’s face while rising back to his feet. Jacobs gives a little smile at Hardaway but the smile doesn’t last long at all as Hardaway’s return fire knocks Jacobs right on his ass. The perfectly timed back kick giving Jacobs embarrassment and pain in a nicely mixed cocktail forced to take several seats by the heel of Hardaway’s foot. The crowd sways quickly from boos to cheers pointing and laughing at Jacobs before he quickly jumps to his feet. The crowd gets hype knowing what’s coming next, both of them on opposite side of the ring? A good running start? Ready…set…
Jacobs hits the deck and rolls out of the ring…
The fuck is he going?
Walking right over to a metal flood plank near the end of the entrance ramp. Jacobs walks back toward Hardaway with evil intentions and Hardaway is quick to action rolling out of the ring himself. Hardaway rips up the ring skirt nearest him looking for his handy dandy…broken kendo stick? Hardaway quickly moves around to another side of the ring, two more broken kendo sticks?
What the?…Hardaway’s face says it all while Jacobs moves in on him from the outside saying out loud “You won’t find one you pissant! I broke the rest. You will find your fuckin’ guts or I will spill them.”
Jacobs is in full blown asshole mode tonight, something his fans and haters are accustomed to seeing on a daily basis but that assholeness always adds such a colorful layer to Jacobs’s matches especially when his opponents are the target of his verbal assault. Hardaway is in disbelief that Jacobs really took time to break all the kendo sticks set aside for their match in order to spite him as he takes a look around at the slew of other options that he has to choose from with the weapons. He decides on a bamboo stick and once Jacobs sees what he’s chosen, he chuckles and calls him a basic bitch before pouncing on his prey. Hardaway swings that bamboo stick as it cuts through the air and cracks Jacobs in the chest, which did nothing to keep the bigger man at bay. Hardaway swings the bamboo sticks a few good times continually like an ax trying to chop down a tree and after coming strong with the assault, the blows actually force Jacobs to take a step back. Jacobs attempts to swipe the weapon and Hardaway begins digging the heel of his shoe into Jacobs’s knee before kicking the hell out of Jacobs’s thigh and cracking him in the side of the face with that bamboo stick.
Jacobs finally is able to get the weapon away from Hardaway and delights himself in smashing the stick across his knee to break it, throwing both halves at Hardaway with an amused laugh that spills into heavy laughter. The laughter is cut short though when Hardaway grabs something to clock Jacobs in the face with and it sends Jacobs into the side of the commentary table. Hardaway half smirks as he holds that clothes iron in his hand and targets his back until Jacobs falls to the ground. As soon as Jacobs even opens his mouth to say something sarcastic, the sole of Hardaway’s shoe kisses his mouth several times until Jacobs’s bottom lip is split in the middle.
The reflective plank that Jacobs dropped in the midst of Hardaway’s quicker assault catches Hardaway’s eye. Jacobs is still on the ground reeling from the rapid fire hoedown stomping he took from Hardaway and meanwhile you can see Hardaway’s mind working. The Voice of Violence walks over toward the metallic plank picking it up and becomes that violent voice railing on Jacobs landing wherever the good lord allowed the metal winning each and every time. Jacobs goes through multiple responses…wince, bleed from head, scream out in pain, wince again, immediate bruising, bleed some more, and eventually stop motion. Once Hardaway lifts his head back up, sweat drips from him as if he was chopping down a redwood. Hardaway then looks around sizing up Jacobs in relation to the commentary desk as Laughlin and Phoenix appear unfazed as they watch him. The blood from Jacobs’s head pours on the mats below and Hardaway’s idea begins. The Maryland native flips the larger man around facing him upward and places the metal plank vertically from his chest downward. People are wondering just what the hell Hardaway is doing as he climbs the commentary desk. Hardaway stays on the edge looking down at his intended target. Crowd getting into it before Hardaway puts all the height he can on it graceful in flight to….DOUBLE FOOT STOMP on the plank RIGHT OVER THE DADDY MAKER!!
…And no kids for Jacobs, the world sighs relief. Does he have kids? If he does that last one the last one.
Jacobs’s body goes into ‘MY FUCKIN’ DICK!!’’ mode throwing his body around the mats while holding his precious area and crying out in pain. Hardaway on one knee looks over in pleasure seeing one of his rivals in deep pain. Hardaway feeling the momentum in his corner looks around the Staples Center while they cheer the death of someone’s reproductive ability. Jacobs’s hands are still over his area. Hardaway gets to his feet looking to cause even more harm. Scanning for something, he takes an interest in a tire iron that he decides to come back for as he helps Jacobs up like he didn’t completely try to annihilate his chances of reproducing just moments ago, rolling him into the ring before doubling back for that tire iron.
With it firmly in his grasp, Hardaway slides in the ring and begins clobbering Jacobs in the face repeatedly, driving his elbow into Jacobs’s chest anytime he tries to fight back before punishing him with that weapon. Jacobs uses one arm to fend off the attacks while his free hand moves around on his person as if in search of something. Next thing Hardaway knows, he’s yelping in surprise as he jumps back when he feels something hot on his skin from Jacobs flicking open that lighter and giving Hardaway a unwelcomed surprise. But that’s not the only surprise he leaves as Hardaway suddenly realizes the bottom of his shirt has caught on fire and a bloody Jacobs spits out blood before laughing like crazy at the confusion on Hardaway’s face before he dances around with trying to put out the flames, pulling off the shirt to throw down on the mat and begins stomping on it like crazy. Irritated, Hardaway comes for Jacobs with a vengeance but is forced back when Jacobs throws white powder in his eyes to blind him, a fan yelling out that Jacobs had the yayo, receiving a head shake from Phoenix. Jacobs leaves Hardaway on the mat, clawing at his face while slowly sliding out of the ring with getting what he felt was the best for last.
Hardaway is on the struggle, rolling out of the ring and crawling around on the ground as he feels around for something, his hands touching the commentary table as he realizes he reaches his destination especially with hearing Phoenix and Laughlin’s voices. He uses the table to stand up and leans over it, feeling around on the table until he touches a tall can and then a bottle. Hoping like hell it’s the same water bottle he seen earlier, he struggles with untwisting the cap and then pours the liquid over his eyes while he hears Jacobs laughing like a maniac a little off to the side. The water doesn’t give him back his clear vision but it’s definitely better than going in blind as with his blurry vision, he’s able to find the ring and slide in. Jacobs is waiting for him…. Having prepared a flaming table for him like a wife serving her husband a home cooked meal. He watches Hardaway stumble around for a bit, finding it funny as hell as he spits out blood to the side, ready to attack.
Jacobs moves gingerly watching Hardaway work on finding his clear vision. Obviously The Los Angelean isn’t in the best shape but too much hatred to worry about children that will probably have an automatic birth defect due to this particular evening. Blood from Jacobs’ head still drips but Hardaway gets Jacobs in his eyesight and even with that being shifty he goes for it. Jacobs easily dodges the strong right hand and fires off a fury of five elbows across Hardaway’s head. The first, second, third…the Redneck Hulk smiles. Hardaway is out on his feet but still standing. The fourth elbow, we got a bleeder!! The last shot makes Unbreakable wobble back toward the flaming table which has got a little more flame behind it. The feeling of heat wakes Hardaway out of haze but the blood falling from his forehead mixes well with the powder that hadn’t fully cleared from him. He only takes a moment to try to clear his eyes, that’s all the time a Redneck needs.
Jacobs scoops the smaller man up easily in his arms hoisting him up. A few steps forward the Drag The Waters through the flames of the table!! The Orange Crush from Jacobs is slightly altered keeping more of the damage for Hardaway in his drop through the table!! Jacobs backs away with a cold smile as the flames work through the rest of the wood and Hardaway finally is seen desperately rolling away from the broken fiery table. The back of his attire from top to bottom clear visual damage from the flames. Smoke lifts from Hardaway’s body as Jacobs takes his time walking over. For once Jacobs doesn’t say anything he lets the moment and his smile speak. He keeps that smile as he circles Hardaway’s body, he keeps that smile during the three count, and he keeps that cold smile as he spits upon Hardaway before leaving the ring as Santana is announcing him as the winner. Don’t raise his hand, this is what he does.

Lisa Seldon, famous tye-dye wearing, cat owning fruit-bat. Currently pacing about some back room in the arena.

Lisa Seldon
“On the 28th of July this year I will be 33, some 15 years into my career, and there really isn’t a lot I haven’t done yet. I’ve won just about every major title I’ve wanted, out lasted all my great rivals and bridged the gap across two generations.
I’ve slowed down a lot since then – there are a lot less corkscrews and flipdedoos in repertoire these days – but I’ve never lost the want. And I still want at least one more thing.”

She smiles off to herself, head turning this way and that.

Lisa Seldon
“I get a real thrill doing these Deathmatches. The limitless viciousness, the idea that nothing is beyond the pale. I’ve been doing these for nearly half my life, bleeding and being bled by some of the worst individuals across the history of this sport.
I’ve also done quite a few of these tournaments now; but for all the titles and trophies I’ve won for throwing myself into the atomic woodchipper that is a the only thing that’s against the rules is crying match with someone with a name like Big Davey Knives-For-Teeth or John the Baptist (but only in blood and entrails), it’s never quite gone my way.”

A theatrical little sigh as she shrugs it off.

Lisa Seldon
“Snuff Fest is quite a unique little tournament in the summer line up. Alongside all the usual names and faces you see getting stabbed up in these things, there are a lot of new ones to fill out the bracket.
Moxie is a new one. Reckless and dangerous – but mostly to herself.”

Lisa pauses a for second as she retrieves a scrap of paper from her pocket.

Lisa Seldon
“She also lives in a bus and really likes cheese whizz and ranch dressing. I did my research”

She balls it and tosses it aside.

Lisa Seldon
“I don’t see her having a particularly long and distinguished career. Not with that here today, dust in the wind attitude she carries around, but I suppose that doesn’t really matter between us. She has a chance, new to this or not, and I’ve seen enough big names eat dirt handed to them by some dude they’d never heard of until they looked up and saw new guy stepping on their face to know there are no free wins.
Moxie is going to get the best of me. The woman at the top of one of the bloodiest promotions in Japan. The woman who has run the gamut of Deathmatch stalwarts, from Aoki to Kawatama and everyone else besides. The woman who has been doing this far longer and far better than anyone else around.
If Moxie doesn’t want to take this seriously, that’s her business. I will put her in the fucking ground and drive her deep enough that I can stack everyone else in line on top, until I’m the only one left standing.”

She thumps her fist in her hand.

Lisa Seldon
“I have done just about everything I’ve ever wanted. I’ve won more than I could ever deserve. I just need that big signature tournament win, and I want to do it here.”
The two found themselves locked up in the center of the ring in no time, where there were no weapons whatsoever to be used. What’s the fun in that, right? Pulling Michael into a knee to the stomach, Kawamata then dragged him towards the corner before throwing him into it. Did I mention that the corner was wrapped in razor wire with a large, but short container full of lemon juice in front of it? Hitting the corner, Michael screamed in agony as the razor wire sliced his flesh like a hot knife through butter. Falling into the container of lemon juice, Michael immediately began rolling back and forth in pain, before eventually rolling out of the container. Still screaming, he wiped his hands over his body, trying his best to wipe away the lemon juice from his open wounds pouring with blood just minutes into this match.
The ropes were also wrapped in not barbed wire, but razor wire as well. Throwing Michael to the ropes, Kawamata was pleasantly surprised when he reversed the throw, sending him crashing into the razor wire wrapped ropes instead. Kawamata released a loud grunt and before he knew it, Michael was behind him, taking him by the head and forcing him face down onto the top rope. Dragging Kawamata’s head back and forth, Michael opened up his face in numerous spots from the razor wire cutting into his flesh. Turning him around, Michael then wrapped an arm around his head before lifting him up into the air as if going for a vertical suplex. Instead of falling backwards, Michael stepped forward, dropping Kawamata down the same way he lifted him up, but instead of dropping him to the mat, he dropped his stomach across the top rope. Leaving Kawamata hanging over the top rope in pain and possibly bleeding out, Michael then unloaded on his head with rapid lefts and rights.
Knocking Kawamata to the outside, Michael climbed out as well, instantly going for the nearest object he could lay eyes on. Picking up a two pack of windshield wiper blades, Michael tore the plastic wrapping open with his teeth. Taking a windshield wiper in each hand, Michael then began whipping Kawamata over the back with them, alternating his swings and going to town as if performing a drum solo at a rock concert. Not far from them was  a car battery and attached to the terminals were jumper cables. After finding the opposite ends, Michael then took them in hand before clamping them both down onto Kawamata’s arm. The electricity shot through Kawamata’s body, causing him to jerk back and forth on the floor as if he were having a seizure. Kicking the cables away from the battery terminals, Michael then picked the battery up from the floor. Kawamata slowly crawled away in the opposite direction and behind him, Michael followed as if stalking him for the kill.
Raising the car battery high above his head, Michael then swung dow with it as had as he could. Grabbing a metal baseball bat beside him, Kawamata rolled over to his back, holding it up in front of his head and blocking the blow to his own head from the battery. Kicking Michael in the stomach, Kawamata created just enough space between the two to shoot back to his feet. Swinging the bat as hard as he could at Michael’s head, his homerun hit quickly turned to a foul ball as Michael held up the battery at the last second, blocking it. The casing of the battery broke and as soon as Michael released it and it hit the floor, it broke even worse, spilling battery acid. Slamming the baseball bat into Michael’s stomach, Kawamata forced him to buckle over. Dropping the bat, he then proceeded to get Michael in a double underhook. Lifting him off his feet and upside down, Kawamata then dropped him straight down onto the puddle of battery acid and pile of broken pieces with his Kamagasaki Crash (Tiger Driver ‘91)! With the battery acid all over his back, Michael didn’t move at all as he lay unconscious for Kawamata to make the cover.

Santana Mentez
“And hereeeee is your winner, MASATAKE KAWAMATA!”

The referee raises Kawamata’s hand in the air before he attends to Michael, someone who Kawamata doesn’t even acknowledge anymore as he slides out of the ring and helps himself to a can of beer. Leaning against the apron, he enjoys his post match brew while the cameras fade out.

The camera pans over the desert, a wide angle catching the expanse of unubstructed starry sky and the dunes stretching out into forever. In the middle of it all, sitting on the top of a school bus painted blue, is Moxie James.

Moxie James (Voiceover)
“I don’t know if anyone expected me to sign up for Snuff Fest. I don’t know if anyone even noticed that I signed up for it, either. Probably not. Outside of 4CW walls, I doubt anyone knows my name. Yet.”

Moxie lifted her head up towards the stars, a smirk curving her full lips.

Moxie James (Voiceover)
“Doesn’t matter, I guess.”

The scene abruptly switches to black and white, grainy video of a girl covered in blood staggering around a wrestling ring. Even though her trademark blonde curls are slick with the blood pouring from a wound at her hairline, she grins as she hefts up a sledge hammer on her shoulder, She turns to meet her opponent, a man in a lucha mask, and slams it against his skull.

Moxie James (Voiceover)
“I’ve done a couple death matches… in Texas on the indie circuit. I don’t have the experience of someone like Lisa or Brytain Rollins or Ruby Hardaway or a lot of the rest of them… that’s a fact.”

A bloody Moxie drops to her knees to pin her opponent. He kicks out at the very last minute.

Moxie James (Voiceover)
“I don’t have a decade of violence under my belt.”

Moxie and her masked opponent are trading blows in the middle of the ring, Moxie obviously weakening as the man punches her in the chest hard enough to make her cough and stagger back, struggling to breathe.

Moxie James (Voiceover)
“I guess it makes sense to wonder why I’m here at all.”

The shaky camera footage shows Moxie bouncing off the ropes, leaping at her opponent and wrapping her legs around his waist as he catches her. She leans down and bites the man’s cheek. He screams, trying to throw her off as she latches on with teeth and hands and legs. He finally manages to peel her off of him, a bloody gaping wound on his face. Moxie stands, spitting a wad of bloody flesh on the canvas.

Moxie James (Voiceover)
“But what I have is enthusiasm. I have a genuine disregard for my own health and safety. I have a genuine disregard for the health and safety of the people in the ring across from me.”

In the old video, Moxie drops to her knees and savagely delivers close handed blows to the man whose cheek she just took a chunk out of. Finally, when he stills she drops and covers him to get the three count.

Moxie James (Voiceover)
“I don’t care.”

On screen, Moxie climbs to her feet, covered in blood and a grin as the referee raises her hands in victory.

Moxie James (Voiceover)
“That’s one match. One death match. I get that. But I’m going into this knowing what to expect and shit, man… maybe I’ve just been looking for an excuse to let loose.”

The scene shifts to current day Moxie James perched on the edge of a wrestling ring at a gym that isn’t identified.

Moxie James
“Nobody knows me, nobody is paying attention to me in this fight. I’m not saying that to whine because honestly, it’s a good thing. Make some jokes on Twitter, don’t play it too serious and they’ll look right past you to whatever fuckin’ edgelord is talkin’ shit that day. I don’t need to talk to take my pound of flesh in the ring. My words aren’t going to do half of what my hands can.”

She shrugged, a half smirk on her lips.

Moxie James
“The benefit of walking into this is that I have hours and hours of video about all of you… I have hours of footage to watch. But nobody knows shit about me. And in this business when someone doesn’t know shit about the other person they assume it’s because there isn’t anything to know and they move on. I like that. I like that most people are too lazy to dig any deeper. It means that no one knows what to expect when they see me on the other side of the ring.”

Moxie looks up with a half smile.

Moxie James
“I don’t have any good reason to want to be in a deathmatch tournament. I could make a name for myself wrestling vanilla. I know the talent is there and I know that the determination is there. But I’ve always been a little curious…”

She sat back, eyes on the GoPro with a sweet butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth smile.

Moxie James
“A little curious about what it sounds like when a tire iron hits a skull or when it connects with a knee cap. A little curious about what it feels like to bleed until you don’t think you can bleed any more. I guess I just see deathmatch wrestling as an outlet. A chance to take all this day to day anger and unleash it on someone else’s body in way that you can’t in a regular wrestling match.”

Moxie shrugged, flashed the camera a sweet smile.

Moxie James
“And like they say about big girls riding faces, if he dies he dies, sis.”
SHIDO blinks boredly at Bo, no hint of amusement in his eyes at his opponent standing across from him as he doesn’t even try to feign respect for her. Wrestling someone that was probably an ad girl on backpage? Who was this punishment for really? SHIDO gives Phoenix a small shake of his head while she watches on with amusement, turning to say something to Laughlin as the bell rings, the fun really beginning. SHIDO’s fans can be heard immediately as he takes one step forward towards Bo but refuses to go any further. He looks her up and down, trying to decide which species she is, where did she come from and why in the hell is she in a match quite like this one. Bo is ready to rumble and she has no qualms about making the first move with stepping off her right foot strong, swinging her right hand with that fist flying towards SHIDO who waits to duck at the last second, the first barely just missing him. Bo swings again and gets the same result, SHIDO starting to toy with him and allowing her to try to attack him first. Bo is smart enough to not go for a third swing, stepping back and taking a quick glance around the ring to see what she can hit him with before returning that focus on him, deciding to go for a weapon later. SHIDO keeps taking slow steps towards her and not swinging, causing Bo a sense of discomfort but deciding to not allow that to knock her off her game, deciding to go head up with rushing him with a kick to the stomach and a DDT to put him down. She stays quick on her feet, her focus in tact and her eyes alert at the smug SHIDO who gets to his feet, unfazed and unbothered.
Bo controls the match with a few well timed DDTs and strikes to SHIDO who still isn’t raising a hand and SHIDO’s fans know to be patient and not act a fool, knowing how he rolls and that things will start to really heat up. A few minutes go by and Bo is ready for that weapon and decides to go get one after dropping SHIDO, setting up to put him down when suddenly, her head is yanked back. She stares up in confusion until she realizes that she can lower her head down due to the tight grip that SHIDO has on her hair. He lets go but only so he can quickly pop up with that knee strike that catches Bo right in the chin and causes her to stumble back before she’s sent to the mat by SHIDO’s rolling wheel kick. The tides have quickly turned and SHIDO cracks his neck, ready to get into this match right and tight with allowing Bo to have her fun but now it’s his turn. No preferred weapon? No problem, she can catch these hands first as SHIDO moves agilely around the ring as Bo rushes him with trying to get her hands on him and catches nothing but a few jabs to the abdomen before being hit with an uppercut. The uppercut causes her body to lift slightly off the mat, her landing on her feet a bit woozy until she finds her balance. Bo stumbles back slightly before deciding to slide out of the ring, seeing what weapon she can call her friend tonight and bash SHIDO with. Her eyes fall on the 2×4 that’s a few steps away but upon seeing SHIDO close to the ropes as if he’s about to come through them, Bo quickly grabs a cookie sheet and swings it in the air to hit him in the face with it, causing SHIDO to almost lose his balance as he goes back a few steps. Feeling the cookie sheet will do for the moment, Bo slides into the ring and swings it before she can get onto her feet due to SHIDO already close to her, something that catches her off guard with him being a few steps away a few seconds ago. She works that cookie sheet though with that good hand, swinging it at him to keep him at bay until she can get onto her feet and charge him with it to crack him in his face some more.
SHIDO swiftly moves out of the way and elbows her savagely in the throat. She drops the cookie sheet and SHIDO slides out of the ring to look for something to play with. He looks towards Phoenix for a minute, mouthing her a question as she points to what he’s asking her. He gives her a thumbs up and heads over to the bright purple box by the chainsaw, kicking it over as some sex toys fall out. He grabs the gag and some rope, tying one end of the rope to the gag as he slides into the ring and gets hit on the back of the head by that cookie sheet. Bo slams that sheet down on the back of his head a few more times before she backs up as his body drops to the mat and rolls onto his back. She brings that cookie sheet down and SHIDO quickly double kicks up so that his feet slams into the sheet while it’s coming down and instead smashes into Bo’s face. SHIDO is on his feet, swinging that gag around with that rope before he slides closer to Bo as she’s sitting on the mat with her hands on her face and he slides that gag over her head and past her mouth to her neck. He then gives the rope a sharp tug to yank Bo’s body back, seeing that she likes to pose with gags while promoting the tournament so he’s going to give her what she wants and let her pose for it during the match. He laughs as he yanks that rope again when she tries to run, causing her feet to lift into the air before her body crumbles to the ground.
SHIDO disappears out of sight to exit the ring, returning to stand over Bo’s body with a gallon of spoiled milk that he pours over her while his fans roar with laughter at this.


Bo’s fans are pissed while the camera cuts to the commentary table for a moment. The camera focuses back to the ring where SHIDO is seen twirling a white spike in his hand while having his foot on Bo’s neck. He quickly moves that foot to pin down one of Bo’s wrists as he suddenly drives that spike into her bad hand. The audience holds mixed reactions over this that they are very audible with but it doesn’t seem to stop the determined SHIDO who now drives the second spike into Bo’s good hand, having her pinned down to the mat by her hands as if crucified. He lifts a foot to place on Bo’s abdomen and orders the referee to make the count.

Santana Mentez
“And hereeeee is your winner, SHIIIIIIDO!”

SHIDO has lifted his other foot to stand fully on Bo’s body, his hands in the air as the SHIDO fans worship their God. He basks in the victory for a bit hefore he begins to scrap his boots on Bo as if she’s a welcome mat before he steps off of her to departure from the ring, sparing no last look at her.

Lisa and Moxie have tied up, veering to the left then the right in a power struggle before Lisa decides to put those knees to work with kneeing Moxie in the stomach to cause her to double over. Lisa backs up only to send Moxie to the mat with a roundhouse kick as soon as Moxie stands up straight with her hand on her stomach. Lisa takes the time to glance around to see where alot of the weapons are outside of the ring, taking note of a few of them she’s interested in so that she knows where to head whenever she’s in the mood for one. Focus goes back to Moxie who is always surveying their surroundings to check out the weapons. Her attention snaps back to Lisa and the two women are ready to tangle up again…. or so the audience thought until Lisa starts to unleash an assortment of kicks on Moxie as soon as she got close enough to her. Moxie proceeds to move out of the way but Lisa thwarts it by targeting Moxie’s shins. Whenever Moxie steps to the right, Lisa goes at the left shin and vice versa, aiming to wear Moxie down so that she could get her hands on the good stuff and show all these opponents how to do a deathmatch right. Moxie ends up dropping down to one knee and Lisa raises an eyebrow because she didn’t even touch her yet… until Moxie drives her elbow into Lisa’s stomach to make her intentions known and pushes off that knee to get to a standing position and give some room between her and Lisa as she figures out her next move while exiting the ring. Moxie didn’t want to be as impulsive, she wanted to have some kind of focus so that she could at least follow through with a strategy or not get too caught up with moving from one move to the next without a certain idea of what to do next. She isn’t running scared though and she lets Lisa know this as she slides back into the ring with a steel chair and a brave expression.
Lisa watches Moxie brandish that steel chair and feels that it’s so naked… so basic for a deathmatch. Might be more interesting if it was lit on fire… as simple as adding color to a bland house. Moxie then looks down at the chair and drops it as Lisa sprints towards her from the other side of the ring, giving Moxie the chance to hurriedly fall to the mat, grab the steel chair and swing up to catch the middle of Lisa’s body with a good hit. The audience was impressed, Moxie was pulling some Lara Croft ish and the fans were here for it as Moxie stands to her feet, quite pleased with herself while Lisa is already deciding on what she’s going to do next and that’s not stand around. Lisa takes advantage by quickly charging at Moxie but Moxie is already sliding out the ring and daring Lisa to follow with a smirk. Lisa wasn’t sure what game Moxie was playing at but she wasn’t about to win 1.5 million dollars waiting on Moxie so she exits the ring but makes sure to not be so hasty with her movements. She’ll be damned if she walks into a trap and while watching Moxie, she remembers to be aware of her surroundings too. Moxie had discarded the chair in the ring so she’s looking for a replacement weapon and has found one with a barbed wire bat. She turns to face Lisa, lifting the bat in a taunting manner as before heading towards Lisa who has other plans in mind as she quickly starts picking up bricks and heaving them at the approaching Moxie! Lisa has great aim and after the first brick hits Moxie in the face, she quickly uses her arms as a shield as she drops the barbed wire bat and covers her face while the other bricks are incoming. Moxie ends up falling on her ass, touching her throbbing nose to find out that it’s busted. Lisa doesn’t have time to gloat because Lisa is busy eying the cinder blocks with being tempted at launching them at the fallen Moxie. However, she grabs three cloth rags to toss into the ring along with a lighter before heading towards Moxie who is busy getting to her feet.
A sharp elbow to the back of the head from the advancing Lisa before her hand grabs a handful of the back of Moxie’s head and aims to drive her forehead into into steel pole when Moxie quickly lifts a leg to press against the pole to halt the attack, backslapping Lisa to catch her off guard before irish whipping Lisa into the pole. As Lisa goes down from smacking into the pole, Moxie has grabbed a steel chain and is sliding into the ring. Moxie notices one of cloth rags on the mat and picks one up to tear off a small corner, balling it up and stuffing up her right nostril to stop up the blood running out of it. Moxie is officially in survival mode as she wraps that steel chain around her right hand and is ready to use it as she watches Lisa slide into the ring with a steady gaze. Lisa is unfazed by that wrapped hand as she steps to Moxie and has to dodge a few quick swings from the ready Moxie, looking to crack Lisa in that face with her weighted hand. Lisa is quick on her feet but not quick enough when Moxie stomps down on Lisa’s foot to halt her from sidestepping to the left so that her chained fist finally catches Lisa in the jaw. After that punch makes contact, Moxie throws more of them while favoring her right hand, knowing that’s where the most impact is going to come from. Before Moxie gets a chance to swing on Lisa again, Lisa’s right leg goes straight up as the front of her shoe hits Moxie underneath her chin and causes her to fall back into the ropes. Moxie bounces against the ropes and Lisa kicks her in the midsection and grabs onto Moxie’s neck while falling to the mat seated for the sitout jawbreaker. Standing to her feet, Lisa pulls Moxie onto hers as Moxie begins trying to attack with that wrapped hand but the determined Lisa doesn’t allow that to stop her from executing The Evil Dead as her number one fan could be heard screaming the loudest. Lisa decides to go for the cover but Moxie is rolling away until she gets close to the turnbuckle, pulling herself up to lean against it.
Lisa shrugs and decides to take the fight over there but Moxie quickly decides on something herself and knees Lisa in the stomach, grabs Lisa by the back of her head and rams her face into the turnbuckle post. Moxie does it twice before allowing Lisa to stumble back so that she could work on freeing the post of it’s cover. She turns just in time to block a roundhouse kick to the face as she begins throwing elbows at Lisa’s face and grabs the back of her head again to re-introduce her face to the post. After the second time, Lisa throws her leg up to stop Moxie by pushing her foot against the post and serves Moxie an elbow of her own to the face. As Moxie goes back, Lisa dropkicks Moxie in the face to send her to the mat so she can go do what she had planned to do. Those three cloth rags? Lisa picks them up and walks over to the steel chair that Moxie had forgotten about, tying the cloths to the steel chair. Taking that lighter, Lisa gives it a few good flicks to produce the flame and begins lighting the ends of the rags. She wanted a steel chair that’s on fire… she was going to make sure that she got one. Moxie was about to rush Lisa… until Lisa turned around and that flaming chair came into sight. Moxie quickly rethinks her next move and looks down at her wrapped hand, deciding she was going to go down swinging and darts towards Lisa when Lisa takes a quick step forward, swinging that chair. Moxie ducks and is relieved that the chair missed her…. that is until Lisa begin kicking the back of Moxie’s leg to try to get her to go down and Moxie was trying her best to move out of the way. Lisa is back to swinging that chair and Moxie is getting good with the ducking and dodging until Lisa fakes a chair swing, Moxie ducks and Lisa brings that chair down hard on top of Moxie’s head. Moxie goes down on her knees and Lisa swings the chair from the ring, smashing the chair into the side of Moxie’s face, tossing the chair aside and targeting Moxie’s legs with lunging for them before Moxie’s body could hit the mat. With the Hovering Butterfly locked in, the referee hurriedly drops to the mat and begins the count.

Santana Mentez
“And hereeeee is your winner, LISSSAAAA SEEEELDON!”

With a smile on her face and the cheers of the fans in her ears, Lisa hops on the ropes with her arms raised in victory and the audience excited for what she does in round 2 next week. Phoenix applauds before rolling her eyes at how loud Jian is being in the stands as he shouts for his precious Lisa.

Brytain Rollins shook out her pink curls, a wicked grin on her blood red lips.

Brytain Rollins
“Allow me to introduce myself… in case you’ve been living under a rock. I’m Brytain, your friendly neighborhood death match wrestler. Just here to remind you all that the 2013 “incident” where my opponent died after a deathmatch against me was determined to be a tragic accident.”

She shrugs her shoulders.

Brytain Rollins
“I keep getting asked why I’m here. Aren’t I above this shit? Grinding it out in tournaments to make a name for myself. My name is made. If you haven’t heard of me you’re probably lying. I don’t need publicity or to risk life and limb to make my bones. But I want to.”

The smirk widens.

Brytain Rollins
“I want to because I like to cause pain. I like to watch the other guys face when they realize that the only way out of the ring with me is death or a three count. Y’all are out here talking about Kevin Hardaway and Dexter Jacobs and their eternal hard on for each other but someone ask Dexter Jacobs about that time he beat me and watch him look real confused. Because he hasn’t. But I know for a fact what a tire iron sounds like when it meets his skull. Made kind of a thunk.”

She winks at the camera.

Brytain Rollins
“Y’all are talking about Lisa and her eye collection like I didn’t watch my husband’s eye literally explode in a deathmatch. I did. It was kind of cool. Losing an eye didn’t stop him and if you think it’ll stop me then you really haven’t been paying attention.”

Brytain turns her head, shrugging on the purple trench coat. “And lastly, y’all wanna talk about Ruby and all her fancy toys she’s planning on bringing to the ring. That’s all just for flash and I’m sure she plays that showmanship card real hard and all but I am a weapon. All I need are my two hands and teeth and whatever else I can use to rip your throat open. I don’t need adorable little Dybbuk boxes or whatever else to make her bleed. Just give me a tire iron and watch them fall. Again.”
Brytain’s face blurs and is replaced by the image of another Brytain, a few years younger, being electrocuted against the side of the Cage of Death. She and V are both bloody and beaten.

Brytain Rollins (Voiceover)
“If I’d do that to my best friend… the person I adore the most besides my family and my husband… well… things don’t look great for the rest of you, huh?”

On screen, she comes off of the cage wall with a cry of pain but she manages to yank a bag of thumbtacks down with her, the bag splitting and the tiny, sharp tacks spreading far and wide over the canvas. V kicks her other ankle out from under her, weakening her even more as he keeps a grip on her hair that doesn’t allow her to turn or move.
With the other hand, he gropes along the front of her until his hands reach the clasp of her studded belt. WIth a snarl, he yanks it open and drags it out of her belt loops. The studs on the belt glint in the bright light shining down on them. He clumsily fumbles with it one handed but manages to wrap it around her neck.

Brytain Rollins (Voiceover)
“I took his career and I almost took his life. And I care about that man. I don’t give a shit about any of you in the ring at Snuff Fest. Think, for a second, about the implications of that.”

Rollins stumbles back to her feet, a growl on her lips as launches herself at V again, catching him right in the chest as she gores them both back into the glass panels that are propped up against one side of the ring. The two of them crash through at least three panes of the stuff before V rolls them to one side and grips her throat in a vice, pushing her back against the electrified cage wall. It’s a double edged sword though, because as the electricity courses through her, he’s shocked as well. It forces him to release her as she groans and rolls away from the cage, her body still shaking and unsteady from the shock.

Brytain Rollins (Voiceover)
“And of course, please to be remembering that the 2013 incident was determined by medical professionals to be a tragic accident.”

On screen, an even younger Brytain Rollins stands on the edge of some PDW scaffolding looking down at Davie Bennington prone beneath her on a stack of barbed wire two by four and pains of unbroken glass. She leaps off in a thrill killer, plunging down on him.
Flesh and bone connect and then there’s a swarm of EMTs. A man in a body bag being taken out of the arena in front of hundreds of thousands of shocked, silent fans.
The camera just barely catches a faint smirk on Brytain’s face before it’s wiped away and she solemnly watches the dead man be carted away.

Brytain Rollins (Voiceover)
“Accidents happen.”
Why are we here? Is it just to suffer? Or are we meant for something more? I often think about that when I think about how so many of us spend so many hours in this god forsaken fucking hobby. You could be enriching your life right now, instead you’re reading this bullshit.
And I’m narrating it.
Where are we today? Looks like catering by the general slack jaws and thousand yard stares people have while shoveling food into their faces. It’s like a mall food court. Do those even exist anymore still? Fuck. Do malls even exist anymore or has their shambling corpses finally been put down?
The Skull Kids are here. Of course they are. Why else would I be writing this? I could be doing something meaningful, like clipping my toenails or paying bills. Welcome to the real world.
The other people in line for food wisely decide to hang back and take a breather when the Skull Kids walk up. They both reach for the smart plate and what always happens naturally happens. They fight. It’s like two children slapping at each other and shit, so it’s not particularly destructive.
Skull Kid 2 pries the plate free from his brother and Skull Kid 1 reluctantly takes a second plate in this segment that’s fucking riveting. This is some good shit here. Yessir. Definitely not eating time to give the ring crew time to clean up the ring after the last match and drag the carcasses out to the back.
To the surprise of absolutely no one that’s been plagued by the Skull Kids’ existence, they go straight for the ham. They pile it on. The wet, moist pieces of meat slapping on top of each other. Enjoy that mental image.
It looks like a premature end is mercifully upon us when Skull Kid 1 puts the ham in an empty plastic grocery bag. Plate too. Almost makes you wonder why they fought over the plate until you remember that these two have brains the size of two Newton’s cradle balls. Don’t know what that is? Look it up, culture yourself a little.
But that tiny brain works well enough for Skull Kid 2 to grab SK1 and question him. Probably. It’s a series of grunts and guttural noises. For all I know he was asking him for the keys to the Batmobile. Not like I’m their fucking translator.

Skull Kid 1

Skull Kid 1 shouts drawing the attention of everyone, including Greg that fat piece of shit. SK1 rubs his stomach and in an image that will replace the clown in my nightmares licks his skull teeth. Skull Kid 2 understands this and he nods.

Skull Kid 2

They chatter at each other some more in some unintelligible nonsense. At least somebody’s happy.

Skull Kid 1

Skull Kid 1 announces and he starts pumping his fists into the air. His brother mimics him and they wander out of the catering area with their plate of ham and ham in a plastic bag. Go read a book.


The fans were booing Brennan heavily for the witty jokes and remarks he cracked in regards to the Snuff Fest tournament. Not liking that he was making a mockery of the event, they started up a chant for Chase to kill Brennan, even though Laughlin remarks how is a rookie who seems like a fish straight the water with a sudden arrival is going to kill the more experienced in wrestling Brennan. Phoenix says that even people who have never killed before can easily pump a few bullets into someone but also says she would prefer her friend Brennan not to die either. As if on cue, Brennan pulls out a gun and Phoenix’s face drops into her arms as she shakes her head at the irony of that last comment before lifting her head back up. Chase’s eyes widen at the gun as he takes a few steps back, trying to reason with Brennan not to do something crazy as Brennan pulls the trigger and squirts Chase in the face with water. Laughlin actually chuckles and Chase is relieved…. only for a moment before that pissed feeling kicks in and he rushes Brennan with serving him a few good licks in the face with right and left hooks. Brennan goes down on his knees and Chase grabs his head to hold it straight as his right knee smashes into Brennan’s face before he lets the left knee put Brennan down on the mat. Brennan couldn’t believe that Chase was acting so rude over his toy gun that looked real, feeling that he wasn’t appreciative of the fun Brennan was trying to bring to this match. Chase has his own idea of fun in his mind…. exiting the ring and returning with a flamethrower. Laughlin remarks to Phoenix that this really must be the year that she’s losing friends as Chase looks determined to light Brennan up like the Fourth of July. Brennan tells Chase to chill, that he has an asian kid and it pisses Chase off even more because he heard that Brennan in fact doesnt. Brennan doesn’t think it’s funny that Chase is being so drastic and dramatic with his weapon of choice, hurriedly spearing him to the mat to get that flamethrower away from him. Brennan then tosses the weapon out of the ring and away from the crazy rookie who may just be a pyromaniac.
Chase lungs at Brennan’s legs as soon as both men rise to their feet and takes Brennan down before sliding out of the ring, not chancing Brennan pulling something out that may be real this time. Chase looks around at the assortment of weapons, having too many choices that he can’t decide on one. He decides on a kendo stick and slides back into the ring, quickly rolling out of the way at Brennan’s incoming baseball slide. Making sure to get onto his feet quicker than Brennan, Chase begins beating Brennan with that kendo stick and doesn’t even try to think about a well thought out strategy. His strategy was to survive and win, by any means necessary and he was making sure that Brennan knew that within those kendo shots he was taking to the back and the ribs. Chase only lets up on him and backs up once Brennan begins trying to make a grab for the weapon. He gives Brennan too much distance though and Brennan is able to make it back to his feet, his back against the ropes because Chase really wasn’t playing with those kendo stick strikes. Chase takes a few slow steps forward while Brennan tries to find an opening while the tense man continues to slowly approach him. Brennan acts like he’s going to pull something else out from behind his back and that actually halts Chase in place and gives Brennan a small window of opportunity to attack without getting hit by the weapon as he snatches the kendo stick out of Chase’s hand and cracks Chase in the side of the head with it. He then throws the stick out of the ring because he doesn’t want to use a weapon he feels is overrated. He didn’t want to really use a weapon period, wanting to piss everyone off by winning round one of a deathmatch tournament by using his wrestling moves instead of a weapon. Laughlin is just shaking his head that Brennan is out here just discarding weapons in this match without even using them.
Brennan does surprise everyone though when he exits the ring and returns with a broomstick…. only to being sweeping the mat with a smile. This elicits angry boos from the audience who are fed up with Brennan’s shenanigans as they begin pelting the ring with trash from their concession stand goodies. Laughlin remarks that this is actually pretty interesting while Phoenix passes him a burger so that they can continue enjoying the show. Chase is laughing at Brennan pissing off the audience and while the trash being hurled at the ring has Brennan’s attention, Chase looks to disappear from the ring to find something else to attack Brennan with. He could rely on his skill but he didn’t sign up for a deathmatch tournament to not attempt to become one with the environment. Just as Chase is able to duck underneath the ropes though to exit the ring, Brennan grabs Chase by the hem of his bottoms to yank him back and then powerbombs him into the turnbuckle corner so that Chase’s back slams into the post. Deciding that he’s tortured the audience enough, he goes for a second powerbomb into the post before tossing Chase’s body to the mat to cover him for the pin.

Santana Mentez
“And hereeeee is your win-”

Santana ducks a box of nachos hurled her way at the angry fan trying to hit Brennan, even though his aim sucked and he isn’t even close enough to the ring to even get it near the apron. Santana glares him down before turning to finish her announcement.

Santana Mentez
“AND hereeeee is your winner, BREN-NAN DEVLIIIIIIIN!”

Brennan is unfazed by the roaring boos as he smirks and raises his arm in victory to troll the angry fans. He then picks up that toy gun and squirts it into the air to elicit even more angry boos.

My suffering is eternal. That has nothing to do with what’s going on, but if I have to endure this you’re going to hear me complain about it. Or you could just skip this. Or you could go find a more fulfilling way to spend your free time. Learn a skill, get a hobby, something.
The Skull Kids are backstage only they know where. No. Really. I have no fucking clue where these two morons are back there, it’s some nook back there where no one will find them.
Which I think is intentional, because they are trying to think. Scary stuff. It’s most certainly a painful and straining experience for them. If the grunts they’re making are any indication at least.
Skull Kid 2 holds a cake in his hand. Where did he get that? Catering? I can’t imagine these two even combined have the mental capacity needed to bake something like the cake he’s got. Not anything edible or as nice looking as this cake at least.
Skull Kid 1 holds a photograph of Pepe the Frog. You know. The meme. Why he printed a photograph of Pepe off the internet is a very good question I give absolutely no shit about.
The two boy geniuses look at the cake, then at Pepe. The cake, then Pepe. The cake, Pepe. Again and again and again like they’re trying to find the answer to life.

Skull Kid 2
Skull Kid 1

They look to the other like either one of them could possibly have the answer and not just a cold, vacant stare to offer their sibling. A reminder that like all of us, the Skull Kids are a little dead inside.
Skull Kid 2 rips the Pepe picture out of his brother’s hand and he throws it on the ground, and then he throws the cake on the ground. Okay. A perfectly normal reaction. So is him stomping on and elbowing the cake into mush.

Skull Kid 2

SK2 leads the Skull Kids away and my watch for the time being is over thankfully. Remember to stay hydrated. And don’t let the inevitable death of the entire universe as we know it set in.

Brytain remarks how Ruby is going to meet the same fate that her husband did with not advancing past round one in his match against Dexter Jacobs but Ruby says doubt it as she pulls out her crossbow and causes the audience to react in a very loud ‘oh shit’ moment as Ruby takes aim and tells Brytain she won’t miss. She’ll use that forehead as a target and pierce her eyes just for the fun of it. Brytain isn’t afraid but she isn’t dumb either as she quickly slides out of the ring to avoid that incoming arrow that shoots in her direction, missing her by a millisecond. Ruby doesn’t give chase and instead retreats towards the opposite side of the ring to slide out, moving about stealthy in hunter mode and while passing the commentator’s table, Ruby is heard shouting out to Brytain that the arrow tips have been dipped in poison. ‘Oh wow’ is heard from Phoenix as Laughlin passes her a cookies n cream Bang while Brytain is still refusing to show her face to Ruby. Ruby takes this as Brytain being intimidated while Brytain is actually strategizing this match from point a to the end with thinking smart and not impulsive, seems how that turned out for some of the ones who had failed in their matches tonight. Brytain finally pops her head up as Ruby sees her on the other side of the ring but Brytain is quickly ducking her head as soon as Ruby releases an arrow in her direction. Brytain did not come here on no Hunger Games shit and was ready to beat the Katniss out of Ruby for this display she had going on right now. Brytain gets another idea and decides to stay put as Ruby is slowly rounding each side of the ring, her eyes peels and her crossbow ready. Whens he finally gets to the side Brytain is on and sees Brytain sitting there as if trying to hide, Ruby smiles and points her crossbow at her…. but Brytain is suddenly spitting a blue mist into Ruby’s face, temporarily blinding her and leaving herself vulnerable to Brytain knocking that crossbow out of her hand and Brytain throwing her into the steel steps that’s nearby as her eyes land on the dumpster that’s near that turnbuckle pole before her eyes go searching for her opponent.
Phoenix rolls her eyes at a fan behind them yelling that Brytain was going to die because it’s obvious that was cyanide that she spit out of her mouth since Brytain now has blue lips. The fan is also wearing a Serpent’s jacket so we alllllll know which show he’s a die hard fan of as he begins asking people around him when does the Gargoyle King show up. Laughlin and Phoenix both ignore him to watch the ongoing violent match within the ring as Brytain and Ruby are back in the ring and Ruby has just broken an arrow in half and shoved it into the side of Brytain. She decides against breaking another and instead shoves the arrow into Brytain’s right forearm when she can’t spot her crossbow. Brytain fights through the pain but it’s not doubt that she’s feeling it from the distorted expression on her face but let’s be real, Brytain’s been through much worse so she’s not about to slow down over this. Phoenix asks Laughlin to pass the popcorn as the duo watches Brytain slam a mallet into the side of Ruby’s head on some Shao Kahn shit as the bloody combatants go at it heavy with Brytain having the upper and strong arming that mallet. Ruby’s body hits the mat and Brytain lifts that mallet over her head and comes down real hard with it as Ruby rolls out of the way, grabs the kendo stick nearby and swings up to crack Brytain in the side of the jaw with it. Ruby is on her feet, advancing now as speedy as earlier but she’s moving so to her, that’s a plus as she hits Brytain with an european uppercut to try to get Brytain to drop that mallet. When that doesn’t work, Ruby gravitates to a series of kicks to Brytain’s shins before kicking Brytain in the gut. Brytain doubles over and Ruby works her elbows into the back of Brytain’s head and neck. Brytain is down on her knees and Ruby smashes her boot in her face but quickly pulls Brytain to her feet before she can fall down. Wrapping her hand around Brytain’s throat, Ruby hoists Brytain up into the air and chokeslams her into the sheet of glass leaning against the turnbuckle!
This match could honestly go either way but the audience is here for it as they eat up the in ring action and hunger for more. Both women are barely steady on their feet but that’s how they liked to get down, fighting to last drop of energy they had left in their bodies. Their bloody bodies tangle on the other side of the ring away from the broken glass as they begin trading sloppy punches, their bodies bumping into the other as if in a drunken dance of not being able to keep a steady balance. The audience knows it might be close to the end but they weren’t sure when the end would be nor who would be the last one standing… if anyone is left standing at the end as their eyes followed the brawling women who couldn’t stop swinging and throwing punches at one another. Ruby ends up headbutting the hell out of Brytain twice, ignoring the intense headache she has as she climbs the turnbuckle and stands on it, turning around and ready to attack when Brytain hurriedly rushes to attack Ruby, causing Ruby to sit on the turnbuckle post and Brytain to lean against the ropes to catch her breath before climbing up the turnbuckle. Brytain’s feet are on the middle ropes as Ruby begins assaulting Brytain’s face with her fists before Brytain rams her shoulder into Ruby and leans down so that Ruby’s legs are on her shoulders and begins to hold Ruby as steady as she can as Brytain rises as high as she can before she suddenly drops Ruby down below into the flaming dumpster that she had lit earlier as the referee calls for the bell.
Mallory Bennett (Voiceover)
“With big tournaments like this, although let’s be honest there’s never been any tournament quite like this. There’s always someone like me. In some cases more than one just like me. You know the kind.”
Mallory Bennett appears backstage, rummaging through various production crates of whatever she can adequately get her hands on without personnel telling her  ‘don’t touch that’ or ‘company property’, and so on. She appears nonplussed however, just taking a few glances to the side. She picks up a wrench and makes a circular handjob motion before she drops it.
Mallory Bennett (Voiceover)
“Yeah that’s the kind. Then again everyone wants to be a standout. Especially in something big like 4CW Snuff Fest. This deathmatch tournament calling the self-described most dangerous and most violent to all finally put their money where their mouth is. Though let’s be honest… By virtue of just competing in this tournament alone, anyone who let it pass them by pretty much handed in their ‘hardcore cred’. By virtue of just competing in this shindig put together by Phoenix, you can at least say you were there. Can’t say the same for many others but that’s the way it is.”

The Byproduct of Misconduct lifts up wire cutters before she measures her pinky against it. She seems to frown for a few seconds, before bending over and rummaging into the tool box. Her distressed jeans seem tight enough to be painted on judging by the view. Also judging by the view she’s been recently handy with permanent marker, judging by the words ‘FOR’ and ‘RICKY’ written especially eloquently on the back of the jean’s thighs.
Mallory Bennett (Voiceover)
“Ain’t what everyone wants though. Some want to change everyone’s perception and shit, some wanna prove they ain’t some edgelord wet dream, or maybe prove they are I dunno. Really, amidst all these crazed motherfuckers who probably never heard of me and may not commit me to memory after the fact… Well I’d want ya all to commit this face to memory. At least before Ricky pops an eye out or deeper down in the tournament one of y’all lops off a knuckle or some real shit…”

The woman rummaging backstage pops her head up and responds to her own voiceover like it’s not her.
Mallory Bennett
“I like my knuckles though.”

Mallory Bennett (Voiceover)
“Uhp uhp, don’t interrupt darlin. Adults are talking. You just sit there and look like your mother didn’t beat you enough and that’s why you need Ricky to do it.”
Bennett proceeds to give a middle finger to the camera, which… Would be giving a middle finger to herself… Or something to the effect. Thinking too hard about what is attempted to be met here would just incur a small headache and a few therapy meetings.
Mallory Bennett (Voiceover)
“I want my notoriety without novelty. I want my disdain without flatout disinterest. I want people to never ever forget my name… Even if it’s the Devil’s Favorite Cocksucker that comes before it. On an industry wide level. So where better to do that than here. It ain’t enough to just be known like, “did she do whatever whatever”? “Didn’t Ty beat her ass once in YGC, and Arty the year before that”? Nah, I want more than that. I need more than that.  So that’ll start with Ricky, and maybe he’ll give me his phone number after… Or at the least I can be his 3 a.m. mistake, since that’s the ‘hour’ for most calls like that. Nah for real, I want ‘em all. Gimme Lisa, let King maim me for life. I’ll take Norcia, lemme get Rollins, give me Hardaway and Jacobs, let ‘em spitroast me while Ruby films it and maybe Mrs. Iver or Cartier is in the corner saying she could do better… To name a few. “

Mallory Bennett
“I don’t think any of those people know or give a shit who I am.”
Mallory Bennett (Voiceover)
“What did I jus’ say about talking?”
Mallory Bennett
Mallory Bennett (Voiceover)
Mallory Bennett
“…Fuck all this, I’m gonna find Ricky if he can’t come to me. I was all ready to lay down over here for him too.”
Bennett motions at something that would look vaguely romantic if not being out-on-ass ridiculous. A table wrapped up in barbed wire, and on the camera’s closer zoom, shiny with the likeliest candidate of lighter fluid. Surrounding said tables are numerous tea candles in the shape of a heart. A very terrible heart that looks like it has three arches, but God bless her high-school dropout attempt anyway. A large truck lug wrench that had been bent slightly on parallel ends as though to make it into two handles going in opposite fashions has a piss poorly down bow done.
…All the while “Anywhere” by 112 plays on a Google Home Mini.
Mallory Bennett (Voiceover)
“Maybe we’re going about this all the wrong way. Let’s just drop the pretense and say that Ricky’s going to be the first of many and after all is said and done, the industry’s going to have a face of violence that no one’s ever seen before. Pockmarked and missing an eye but still.”

The scene cuts elsewhere.
The bell rings and Erik Holland is the more active of the two death dealers. The experience between both in high stake matches testing the body in unfathomable ways. Michael Norcia moves toward the middle while Holland being the more active starts circling around him like a shark knowing the time for a meal is coming soon. Only difference here is Norcia isn’t prey has never been and never plans to be.
Holland finally darts in and catches left hand of hell, heaven, and purgatory all at once. Holland didn’t know where he was or where he is suppose to be. The crowd ‘oohhhs!!’ heavily at the run up, get done up moment. Holland meets the turnbuckles in the corner and takes a minute. No this wasn’t a 12 round boxing event but how Holland was just hit, he needed that Rocky timeout. Norcia doesn’t follow up, not yet. He’d rather Holland come to grips with what he was just hit with and know, Norcia isn’t prey. It doesn’t take long for Holland to find himself and when he does the realization makes him smile as he starts to shift around Norcia once again. This time Holland is smart, closes in slowly until they lock in the middle. Norcia bullies him into the corner going for another heavy hand, Holland ducks under and goes lower with a kick to the midsection to slow him and fires off going clean punches to cause Norcia to lean back after a few. The crowd is hype about the hand to hand combat aware of the fire Norcia is known for as well as the punishment Holland is willing to take and give right back out. In this engagement though speed wins out with Holland getting in more strikes and causing Norcia to hang on the buckles. Holland backs up and gives a hellish boot to the head of Norcia and finally causes things to slow down. While Norcia is shaking that off Holland gives the crowd reason to buzz. We start with tradition…the little black bag, pour said little black bag, and we have thumbtacks a plenty. Holland turns around to get a good handle on Norcia. European uppercut from Holland to Norcia and Holland follows that up impressively getting Norcia up and over with a vertical suplex right into the bulk of them giving Norcia the pincushion treatment. Norcia feels it but it probably only hit the scar tissue. Norcia winces as he leans back and rolls over in the pool of them almost as if he’s enjoying a day at the beach. He laughs and pretends to swim in the mass allowing even more of them to push into his body. Holland stands watching Norcia’s display of zero fucks and claps sarcastically but puts up one finger saying he’s got much more for him.
Norcia wants him to bring it on while enjoying his imaginary frolicking as if he’s on the sand on the warmest summer day, having himself a good ol time. Holland leaves Norcia to it as he slides out of the ring and gets to working on a little project. The cameraman closest to him tries to film over his shoulder but Holland shoves him away as if he’s trying to ruin a birthday surprise. Norcia is standing to his feet as he’s ready for Holland to show what’s this much more he has for him when Holland shows him alright, with a barbed wire steel chair that wipes that smile clean off Norcia’s face. Holland targets Norcia’s back as Norcia stumbles forward with every shot but refusing to go down, no matter how hard the hit or how much he feels his skin being cut into. Anybody that knows Holland knows that he is a very determined man and doesn’t give up easily, wanting what he wants especially when it comes to getting his way and that’s having Norcia go down to give a slight stroke to his ego from that thumbtack display Norcia made a scene of. It’s not easy but Norcia finally goes down to his knees and Holland delivers final blow from that chair to get Norcia to land on his face. Holland admires the damage to Norcia’s back, loving the beautiful bleeding decoration courtesy of the barbed wire but…. He feels as if something is missing. He exits the ring only for a second as he returns with a bag of Morton’s Salt that he tears open and pours all over Norcia with a sinister smile but… appears disappointed when Norcia isn’t howling out in pain like he expected him to. Does he feel it? Hell yes but is he in agony as if he’s dying? Yeah right.
Holland’s cracks start to show now. His face quite perturbed by seeing the salt into the deep gashing causing next to nothing on the face of Norcia. It was a little discomfort like the slight smack you give your arm after being bitten by a spider. Quick, fleeting, and barely rememberable. Norcia gets to one knee and there’s a little more evidence that it’s more than a spider bite, the new crimson colored mask along Norcia’s face for one. Yet, Norcia smiles. Holland notices the smirk and it drives him further. While Norcia gets to his feet Holland yells out ‘oh yeah?’ as if welcoming the challenge going one step further. Once again Holland rolls out of the ring and once again he’s going back to the lab with basically ‘TOP SECRET’ along his back with how he is keeping the cameras out of his business. A few more movements from underneath the ring skirt and he pulls it up over his head like Link in a Zelda game…
A body length wooden palette with 6 inch nails sticking out of one side reminiscent of the first Mortal Kombat game where an uppercut on the bridge was EVERYTHING.
Norcia is a lot more interested now as Holland slides in with the dangerous palette. He smiles at Holland, his teeth with a bit of blood that’s been running down his face. Holland looks at the corner behind him calculating, Norcia steps forward telling him to put the palette to work. Holland looks at the corner behind Norcia and Norcia only glances to the side for a second where Holland springs to action throwing the palette nails first right toward the face of Norcia. BIG BOOT, PALETTE FLIPS…
The palette lands dead center of Holland’s face which brings him to a full range scream to backing up into the turnbuckle, pulling the nails from the flesh on his face. The two quickly become kindred spirits with war faces of red. Norcia is comfortable with his while Holland looks down at the palette and then at Norcia mad that his own contraption turned against him. Holland is on Norcia’s ass like Kim K on cultural appropriation as he cracks him in the face with his elbow before swinging that palette at Norcia, the nails scraping against his chest when he tries to move out of the way at the last minute. Holland notices the blood running down Norcia’s chest from the puncture wounds but he feels that’s nothing in comparison to what had been done to him. He turns the palette around and smacks Norcia in the face with the bare side before kicking him in the gut, bringing the palette over his head and cracking the back of Norcia’s head twice to make the stubborn man finally go down to the mat. He beats Norcia with the bare side of the palette as if he’s tendering a nice steak for the grill until he sees his back become even redder, wanting as many marks on Norcia so he can remember him by. Having a taste for explosives now, Holland discards the palette and starts for the ropes with a job when Norcia grabs his ankle and tugs sharply to make Holland fall flat on his face so Norcia can roll to the outside of the ring to find him something good. He’s a bloody mess but Norcia treats his war wounds like a regular day on the job as he decides to finally put his murder mittens to use, heading over to where he had stashed them so that he could slip them on as he’s slipping back into the ring. Holland grabs him as soon as he rises to his feet and Norcia hits Holland hard enough in the face with one of the mitts to force space between them before he begins using Holland’s face as a punching bag.
Holland’s face was already punctured and now…now it’s just getting pummeled. Imagine Ivan Drago’s punch that killed Apollo…on a loop. DEATH! DEATH! DEATDEATH! DEDEDEATH!! Holland isn’t standing it’s just the ropes breaking his fall as he timbers back to bounce against the ropes. When he bounces back DEATH again! Bounces against the ropes. The third time around it’s funny to everyone else accept Holland, if he can feel anything anymore. Instead Holland hangs onto the ropes once he bounces against them he’s within arms distance of his little post July 4th fun. He slides it over to him while Norcia is winding back for one more time, earth, and ass shattering punch instead in full desperate mode Holland sways back from the punch and uses Norcia’s heavy handed momentum against him. Already having it all setup he pulls Norcia right in with him against those ropes and against those ready explosives.
‘Stars and Stripes Forever’ plays randomly.
Considering the Staples Center is an indoor facility every single thing about this SCREAMS fire hazard but that doesn’t stop from not one fan inside the building from saying ‘Oooh’ and ‘Ahhh’ enjoying the week late display as fire, sparks, flash, pops, booms, and bangs fly into the air with a mixture of flesh, hair, clothes, even a tooth.
Whose tooth? Who the hell knows?
All we can tell through the smoke, pomp and circumstance is that both Norcia and Holland are getting LIT THE FUCK UP!! More lit up than a blood vs crips driveby in the early 90s. More lit up than Lil Kim, Sammy Sosa, and Michael Jackson’s skin treatments. More lit up than Super Sonic. Over 9000. More lit than all of HiLite’s piss tests. More lit than the interest rate on my student loans. More lit than, man these fools dead aren’t they? DOA, Medic!!! Time of death is…
No they aren’t dead. In fact while one of Norcia’s arms are over Holland’s chest one of Holland’s arms is over Norcia’s chest. They aint moving but they aint dead.
At least we don’t think they are dead.
The ref is confused and stunned after getting the hell out of dodge. That whole one side of the ring is completely destroyed, the ropes hang in disarray while the two bodies are on the mat not moving. The ref looks at the commentator table where Phoenix and Laughlin sit and shrug. The ref looks at Santana and the timekeeper corner’s direction, they all shrug. A slow shake of the head by the ref at these two crazy white men and then he shrugs.

The following has been pre-recorded.

The gym is dark, dusty, and completely silent. The grey room looks like a display in a museum, untouched and sanitized from any living thing. Even the air seems to sit still like a curtain, heavy on the floor.
The ring in the middle of the gym is familiar. Sagging ropes, stained canvas. The corner turnbuckles wrapped in makeshift padding duct taped to the steel.  The surrounding accoutrements are in the same places, the same positions, that they were in the day Cartier found her friend, coach, mentor, and father figure Ronnie “Redbone” Tucker clutching his chest on the floor.
In the center of the ring on a weathered wooden stool sits the only sign of life. Cartier. The Brooklyn Baller isn’t in the flashy manner she typically appears in on television. She’s dressed down in grey and black workout gear with darkened patches of sweat. Old sneakers stained with a hundred laps around city blocked and through bodega aisles. Her hair is without an extravagant wig, instead just short and flat and held back with a heavy cloth band across her forehead. Her hands are taped and the knuckles are tattered and bloody. She breathes with a heaving chest as she looks down at the mat between her feet, hanging her head between two slumped shoulders as if they’d simply collapsed under its weight.
Then, she speaks.

“Not gonna lie… bein’ back in this spot got me feelin’ some kinda way. I ain’t set foot in here since ‘Bone had them punks run up in here on him. He still ain’t recovered. Been out the hospital maybe a week, laid up in his bed wit’ his grandson lookin’ out for him. Boy had to drop everythin’ to fly back home for ‘im. But that’s the sacrifice people make for family, for the ones they love. It ain’t even a thought, when someone or somethin’ you hold dear is at stake, you do what you gotta do. It’s seein’ that firsthand that made my decision easy. I knew I had to show Redbone that the work he put into trainin’ me an’ puttin’ up wit my petty bullshit was all worth it. No one coulda been prouder than him when me an’ Silk started our run. My own family couldn’ta cared less, but ‘Bone smiled like he was watchin’ his own daughter walk down the aisle. But one thing he always said… we gotta keep growin’. Keep evolvin’. I ain’t just a singles wrestler. I ain’t just a tag wrestler. I ain’t just a brawler. I ain’t just a champion. I’m more. More and more and more every day that goes by. An’ now, thanks to my girl Phe, I’m about to take the next step… one that definitely gonna leave marks. We talkin’ barbed wire, broke glass, whatever. I know I ain’t never been in a situation like this before an’ that’s exactly why I jumped at the chance. Skull Kid Uno just the first one who gonna see a side of me that ain’t been out there before… because in a death match, we gotta fight to survive. I’m comin’ into this like my life on the line. Because if I’m ever gonna hit that next level? It’s gonna come down to makin’ a impact in moments like these. Lotta things ain’t certain in life, y’all… but one thing you can take to the damn bank is that I ain’t gonna ever stop bein’ hungry. An’ as far as this Snuff Fest tournament? Bitch I am STARVIN’.”

Cartier lifts her head and balls her fists up, a fierce look of determination in her eye.

“Set the TV to record this one, y’all… you gonna watch this twice.”

She slams a fist into the palm of her hand, and the scene snaps to black on impact.

Cartier didn’t care that she got the bigger one out of the Skull Kids, just meant alot more weight to put down on the mat. Skull Kid 1 was amazed by all of the weapons that surrounded the ring and wondered which one would be his favorite. The bell goes off and it prompts SK1 to look at Cartier and put on his meanest face… although it was hidden by the mask that he’s wearing. He takes off with a fast charge, imitating his best Naruto run as the top of his head slams into Cartier’s stomach before she can make it out of the way. Soon as Cartier’s body hits the mat, he begins jumping up and down on the mat with trying to double stomp Cartier who makes it out of the way of those angry feet and rises with her hands on SK1, going for a hiptoss that transitions into a knee lift. All that weight on her leg, Cartier felt it but she hoped that SK1 felt it as well as he lays on his back, looking up and points. He’s distracted and Cartier doesn’t have time for this as she tries to get him up but he’s putting all of his weight down so that she can’t move him. Cartier leans down even lower to grab his other arm as SK1 pops her in the eye and goes for a small package! But as soon as the referee hits the mat to start the count, a furious Cartier has already broken the pin before it can get to 1.
SK1 was a bit disappointed and thought he was so close while Cartier felt like that Skull Kids played too much and would have been pissed if she would had lost to a small package instead of a weapon to the face in a deathmatch tournament. She’s really in beat someone’s ass mode, squaring up and telling SK1 to do the same. He mistakes what she’s asking and goes outside of the ring, only to return with a bucket of chalk sticks that he brought to the ring. He begins drawing squares on the mat as Cartier yells at him and he doesn’t understand, she said to square up so he’s doing it. He’s able to make only 4 squares in the hopscotch before Cartier has had enough, snatching the chalk stick out of SK1’s hand and breaking it in half. The instigating crowd eats this up and eggs this on with a loud ‘ooooooooooh’ and the camera pettily zooms in on the masked face of SK1 whose eyes are narrowed and staring daggers at Cartier. Cartier shrugs and doesn’t care if SK1’s feelings are hurt as she motions for him to stand to his feet and be about that action.
SK1 stands to his feet, alright… rushing towards SK1 to kick her in the stomach and give her a big suplex as payback for the innocent chalk stick. He then gets on his knees as Cartier is rising onto hers from the suplex and he grabs the back of her head, slamming it down into the first square of the hopscotch. He continues doing so until Cartier’s forehead as hit the center of each square drawn on the mat before SK1 shoves her head away and stands to his feet. There’s chalk all over his gloves as he tries to dust them off as best as he can. Meanwhile, Cartier is feeling a little woozy from all of that forehead slamming and she doesn’t get up right away, getting to a sitting position and allowing herself to catch her breath after SK1 went in SMASH mode with her head. While SK1 is preoccupied with his chalky gloves, Cartier is slowly sneaking out of the ring unnoticed by him. She takes inventory of her surroundings and wants to get something small that she can possibly hold onto in case SK1 knocks it out of her hand. She sees those brass knuckles and slips them on without hesitation as she creeps back into the ring.
SK1 feels weird and his head suddenly shoots towards her as she smiles innocently at him with her hands behind her back. But SK1 knows they aren’t friends and doesn’t trust that smile. Cartier inches closer and something tells SK1 to take a step back as he decides to take 3, staring at Cartier suspiciously. Cartier points up in the air, SK1 looks and Cartier is heavy on the attack as she sprints towards SK1 and starts throwing those brass knucked punches at him. One punch hits SK1 in the shoulder and he yelps in pain before angrily pushing Cartier down. But Cartier doesn’t give up and instead targets SK1’s knees and ankles from the mat as SK1’s legs buckle and Cartier continues tagging his legs until SK1 goes down. SK1 struggles to not get hit by the punches so Cartier is barely missing his face and is getting some of the side of it and not where she’s targeting but she doesn’t stop swinging. SK1 shoves her away and stands to his feet, grabbing Cartier’s wrist as soon as she stands up and irish whips her towards the ropes. He’s ready for her as she comes speeding back but Cartier is much more ready as she spins around in the air and serves SK1 her whole ass with knocking him flat on his back. She’s tempted to go for the pin as SK1 is dazed and he is trying to dizzily move with getting onto his feet. As soon as he feels Cartier’s hands on him, he begins swinging madly, catching her with 2 good hits out of the 5 that he threw and knees her in the stomach. Cartier falls to her knees and SK1 knees her in the face, trying to stop the airplanes from flying around his head as he shakes his head repeatedly to try to get more of a clear focus. He’s able to see Cartier on the ground and he begins jumping up and down, stomping down hard on her brass knuckled hands with causing her to scream out in pain as he refuses to stop even when he hears the screams. He begins to pull Cartier to her feet and shoves her head between his legs, going for a piledriver and then a quick cover as the referee starts up the count.

Santana Mentez
“And hereeeee is your winner, SKUUULL KID 1!”

Skull Kid 1 dizzily raises his hand in the air in celebration while chanting “SMASH” over and over again until he transforms into a corn cob…. JUUUUUUUUST KIDDDDDDDING!

The show cuts to the backstage area somewhere deep in the halls of the Staples Center. Standing front and center beneath a set of dim track lights  is Ricky Valero, sporting a black ‘DO GOOD’ t-shirt and a solemn demeanor.

Ricky Valero
“I’m completely out of my element.”

His blue eyes lock with the camera in front of him and he licks his lips.

Ricky Valero
“Everyone knows it. I’m not a deathmatch guy. I don’t do hardcore matches. I honestly couldn’t tell you the last time I had a match that didn’t abide by standard wrestling rules. So to say I’m out of place in this tournament isn’t really a stretch when you look at most of the other competitors in this thing.”

He takes a deep breath, his eyes travelling to the floor before quickly returning to the camera. He shrugs his shoulders.

Ricky Valero
“I’m okay with that.”

Valero cracks a slight grin.

Ricky Valero
“I started my career in this kind of environment. Rising Sun Wrestling. The predecessor of Death Trip Wrestling and all the Yamashi Promotions we have today. Spilling blood on that mat in front of thousands of people inside the Saitama Super Arena week after week after week. It molded me. It made me into the competitor I am today, and I am incredibly thankful for the experiences I had. But that shit took its toll. You can’t enjoy a long, healthy career doing stuff like that and so I made a decision to leave that stuff behind, to pave a new path in my career so that I could be here over a decade later still reigning as one of the best in the business today.”

There seems to be a bit more pep in his presence as the excitement builds up inside him. A familiar confidence fills the air.

Ricky Valero
“But here I am. The first round of the 4CW Snuff Fest tournament ready to go toe to toe with Mallory Bennett, in her domain, at something a bit more in the wheelhouse for her, inside the Staples Center right here in Los Angeles…”

The usually despised Valero garners a cheap pop from the LA crowd.

Ricky Valero
“…ready to put it all on the line and cause a little bloodshed to prove that no matter the circumstances, no matter the stage, Ricky Valero is always up to the challenge. More so than just about any other competitor in this tournament, I’m looked at as an extreme underdog. I’m no Dexter Jacobs. I’m not Brytain Rollins or Michael Norcia. I’m not any of these other psychopaths listed on the card for tonight. There’s a very real possibility I could die tonight. And if I manage to survive, if I manage to beat Mallory, it’s a very real possibility it could happen any other night in this tournament too. I see these people talking about chainsaws, weedwackers, barbed wire, knives, guns, whatever the hell it takes to incapacitate their opponent, and they have the resume to support that they’re just crazy enough to do it, repercussions be damned, and I just don’t look like I have a shot in hell of walking out of here a winner.”

Looks directly into the camera with fire in his eyes.

Ricky Valero
“But Mallory, I need you to listen to my words right now. I need you to hear what I’m saying to you. No more bullshit. No more fucking around on Twitter. When we step into that squared circle and that bell rings, it’s do or die, bitch. I have spent 19 years doing everything I’ve needed to do to win every time I step foot into a wrestling ring, and that ain’t gonna change just because the odds are suddenly out of my favor. Because I know you know, I do my best work when my back’s against the wall, when people tell me I can’t or I won’t. I’ve made a living proving people wrong. I thrive on it. And tonight when we step foot into that ring, there are going to be thousands of doubters picking you as the surefire winner, there are going to be dozens of competitors in the back anticipating every ounce of my blood that will spill until I can’t go any longer. People watching at home placing bets on my head. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to make it out alive.”

Valero pauses for a moment to scoff and let out a little chuckle. His blood is boiling. His nerves are shot. And while there is a part of Ricky unmistakably terrified of where this night may lead, he’s fired up.

Ricky Valero
“But I relish all of it. I welcome the detractors. I welcome the disrespectful sons of bitches too lazy to go into the archives and see what I did to El Loco in a Glass TLC Match. Literally drown Hell Razor in a pool of his own blood. Watch me end my own brother’s career prematurely inside this very arena 15 years ago. Ask Yo Kurasawa who the fuck I am. Ask Taka Shimura what kind of person I can be. I wasn’t supposed to be there either. I wasn’t supposed to make it out alive. I was a goddamn joke for half my time there. Yet I am one of the most successful wrestlers to have ever competed in RSW since its closure almost a decade ago. I’m a bigger name than Riddick or Schaudenfraude, Lady Despair, Mass Suicide, and a lengthy list of other people you’ve never heard of. And that’s because since day one, I have been an overachiever who rises above every obstacle, every challenge, and always ends up on top. Mallory Bennett, you’re a fucking badass. There ain’t no doubt about that. But while this match may look a lot better for you on paper, understand that I have no problem massacring that pretty little face of yours until it’s unrecognizable, strangling you with barbed wire, stabbing you in the back and ripping your fucking soul out, doing whatever it takes to get out of here with a victory.”

He says lifting a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire into the picture with a menacing smirk.

Ricky Valero
“I might be leaving on a stretcher tonight, but I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure that if that is the case, you’re leaving in a bodybag. No more jokes. No more threats. It’s game time, baby…”

He blows a kiss to the camera before stepping out of the picture. We fade.

One of the most interesting pairings of this tournament as they traded flirty threats with some doused in sexual innuendos during their back and forth on twitter. Some even thought they were banging and some wondered if they weren’t, would they during the tournament. The bell sounds off and they both can’t wait to get their hands around each other, eager with determination to make the other go down. Mallory smashes her left fist into Ricky’s pretty face, moving in an unorthodox fashion as she smiles at him and ducks his swinging right hand to pop up with a beautiful european uppercut. Mallory swings that left hand again but this time, Ricky quickly grabs her wrist and yanks her towards him to get her into a headlock while using that opportunity to look around the environment. He glances over at the commentary table when he doesn’t see his preferred weapon and asks where the barbed wire baseball bat is. Laughlin stares dead at him and doesn’t answer while Phoenix points off to the left of the commentary table. He nods his head in thanks before returning his attention to his date for the night who has elbowed him in the ribs before serving that same elbow to his face to break the hold on her neck. The two ego heavy opponents take one look at each other after Ricky glancing behind him to the outside of the ring before they take off to opposite sides of the ring to slide underneath the ropes because Mallory wanted to get a weapon before Ricky did. Call it petty, not even caring about one at the moment until she seen Ricky become interested in one but it was definitely entertaining to watch. Mallory is tossing and shoving weapons to the side while glancing behind her shoulder a few times to make sure Ricky isn’t sneaking up behind her until she finds what she’s looking for, picking up that wrench with a malicious twinkle in her eye before she slides back into the ring while Ricky abandons his search for his preferred weapon at the moment to give chase to Mallory. Mallory comes at Ricky strong with swinging that wrench as if her intent is to take his head off while Ricky quickly ducks and spears Mallory to the mat.
Mallory swings that wrench again and Ricky rolls off of her to avoid getting hit. He’s quick on his feet and Mallory is ready as she takes one step forward but Ricky takes two with giving a quick jab to catch her off guard and then moving in closer, going for an overhead belly to belly suplex. While Mallory’s focus is on using the weapon, Ricky’s is to play to his strengths, avoiding getting hit to get close enough to Mallory to execute a move put her down. After a nicely planned fisherman suplex, Ricky’s confidence is at an all time high but Mallory looks to ruin that as she pops him in the face with her free hand and irish whips Ricky into the turnbuckle. But Ricky quickly gets a leg up and stops himself from crashing into the turnbuckle with his foot on the middle post. That doesn’t bother Mallory as she checks him out from behind, liking what she sees before savagely dropping down to slam that wrench into his balls from the back and walks off with a smirk, that tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek to mock a blowjob. Ricky is on his knees clutching his prettyboy package and about to fall over on his side from how much pain he’s in when Mallory is on the move with dashing forward to dropkick him in the back of his head. Ricky’s face smashes into the ring post and Mallory is eating this up, flicking her hair and demanding that she be announced as the winner now with suggesting that she has the match in the bag. Ricky smartly rolls out of the ring, not wanting to be near Mallory or her wrench right now as Mallory poses in the ring with the wrench, knowing the pictures are going to look good plastered all over the net.
Phoenix and Laughlin are taking a long chug from their current Bang drinks after having a bet to chug down anytime Mallory or Ricky does something in a sexual manner. This might not be a bloody brawl but the commentators are definitely enjoying themselves as they engage in a side conversation since Mallory is currently making zero strides to go after Ricky. Mallory finally becomes bored and wants to play with Ricky again and looks for him from inside of the ring, not able to spot him. Confused, she exits the ring and as soon as her feet touches the ground, Ricky smashes her in the side with that barbed wire baseball bat he had been seeking during the match. Resting on the ground in position as his free hand grips his injured balls, Ricky has that bat firmly in his grasp while watching Mallory closely as he plans on having that wire cut more into her after what she did to him. He’s trying to use mind over matter to not think of the pain as much and instead, focus on the goal of the match and that’s to win and advance to round two of the tournament. Mallory seems to be trying to ignore her own pain she’s in as she lunges at Ricky and he brings his free hand up to double grip the bat and swings it into Mallory’s same side that he had targeted, relieved when this hit causes her to find the ground and wail out in pain. With Mallory not on her feet at the moment, it helps Ricky recuperate some more before he can try to stand, walking slowly because no matter how many times he says he’s okay, what he feels down below is calling him a goddamn liar. He decides to punish Mallory and decides to get more creative as he goes on a treasure hunt, finding a trove of good things in one area of the display of weapons. He takes the box of thumb tacks and on turning around to see Mallory a few steps away, he drops the bat once his eyes land on her wrench. She had a too much fun with that tonight and he decides to confiscate it as he walks over to grab the wrench and looks around for something.
He spots the duct tape and heads over to it just as Mallory is crawling over to grab a hammer before she struggles to get into the ring. Ricky is busy duct taping that wrench to the inside of his leg so that Mallory can’t get to it and happens to look up in the ring to see that his date as arrived back to their meeting destination. Ricky follows suit as he slides into the ring and Mallory inches closer while holding onto the ropes to keep her balance while holding her side, driving her foot into the back of Ricky’s head as soon as his body slides into the ring from underneath the ropes. Ricky desperately tries to grab for Mallory’s leg she’s using for balance to yank her leg to get her to lose her balance and it almost works as Mallory does eventually teeter. Ricky uses that opportunity to begin to rise but Mallory steps off really good on that balanced leg and smashes her knee into the side of Ricky’s head. Ricky goes down and Mallory leans against the ropes, ignoring the pain she’s in since it’s easy for her to drown in satisfaction right now. Mallory slowly leans down to grab for Ricky’s arm with the intention of pulling him onto his feet when Ricky’s head suddenly shoots up like a rocket and crashes into Mallory’s chin, causing her to topple backwards. Wasting no time, Ricky gets to his feet and drags Mallory’s body to the middle of the ring, taking a step back. He watches her as she begins to get onto her knees before he says, ‘Open wide, baby’ before shoving those thumb tacks into her mouth and then smashes the sole of his boot into her face with a sadistic grin. Mallory in pain with that bloody mouth and thumbtack decorated tongue seems to bring enjoyment to Ricky who stops marveling at the sight to watch her struggling to sit up due to the pain she’s in while mockingly applauding her when he suddenly gets an idea with the position she’s in. He looks down with a grin before looking back at Mallory, deciding to give her some good medicine to knock her out with and he knows it has to be big to satisfy her. So he takes the opportunity to rush forward with a Shining Wizard so that the wrench brutally smashes into the side of Mallory’s head. She goes down and he wastes no time covering her body as he glances over at the referee dropping down to the mat with that raised hand to begin the count.

Santana Mentez
“And hereeeee is your winner, RIIICKKKYYY VALEERROOOOO!”

Santana’s loud ass could be heard even louder on the mic as Ricky’s female fans are louder than the rest of the audience, screaming like crazy for him as his hand goes to his groin, the reminded pain of how intense tonight got for him. But nonetheless, he snatched that W and is headed to round 2 next week!

We take a little stroll backstage to come across a boyishly handsome (not in the Jeffrey Epstein manner) individual, who looks like a walking merchandise rack for the Corners Four.  Wearing a brand new tee displaying the 8CMMA logo and a King’s Road mesh cap, milquetoast rookie Barkley Moore sits pleasantly at a table, engulfed in deep thought.

Barkley Moore
“Barkley Moore: Hmmmmm…that one!”

In his hands sits a wooden pyramid with four golf tees fitted in drilled holes.  Those familiar with the restaurant Cracker Barrel recognizes this as the “Jump All But One Game.”  Moore, who leaps an orange peg over a green one and pockets said green tee grins, as this jump now leaves three and no longer leaves him subject to be an Egg-No-Ra-Moose.

Barkley Moore
“Heck yeah!  I’m just plain dumb!”

And we fade.

Skull Kid 2 is here to bash and he even has a pair of the gamma grip Hulk fists on. Will is a bit surprised to see the toy gloves but he just shrugs it off and readies himself for when the bell rings. As soon as the bell rings to begin the match, SK2 is proudly charging over to Will, swinging those large fists with wanting to sending Will flying into the crowd with a powerful punch. The punches from the gloves do nothing but irritate Will and give that annoying kind of feel as he gets punches by the gloves until SK2 sees that the punches aren’t having that big of an effect and slips off a glove to bop Will in the head with it. Will knocks the glove out of SK2’s hand and grabs his head, yanking it down while jumping up to smash his knees into SK2’s face. SK2 goes back and Will knows that he can’t see his face but doesn’t mean he can’t make his opponent stain the inside of his mask. SK2 thinks Will is playing hardball but Will is just getting started as he irish whips SK2 in the corner and begins hosting an assault party with his fists, making SK2’s face the guest of honor as he traps SK2 in the corner with those fists of fury and doesn’t let up. SK2 eventually forces Will to back up off of him when he grabs one of Will’s incoming fists by the wrists and begins pinching the back of Will’s hand. Will’s fist relaxes and SK2 takes Will’s middle finger and bends it back, causing Will to yelp out in pain before SK2 headbutts him to force Will to get out of his way.
Making his way to the outside of the ring, SK2 goes weapon exploring with checking out the big weapons… until he sees a toothbrush. He hurries over to it and picks it up to see that it’s an electrical toothbrush as he studies the design of it and doesn’t see any cartoon characters on it. SK2 presses the button to turn on the toothbrush, studying the bristles with wanting to test out the toothbrush until he becomes confused. Why are the bristles gray, pointy and shiny? Once he realizes that they are needles in place of the bristles, he shakes his head no at no longer wanting to brush his teeth, not realizing he couldn’t anyways with his mask on. He looks up and is greeted with the bottom of the incoming fire extinguisher that Will smashes into SK2’s face. SK2 takes a nasty fall from tripping over his own feet and Will lets that fire extinguisher loose on him as SK2 gets sprayed in the face. SK2 desperately tries to escape and is able to crawl away from the spraying Will and when Will doesn’t stop coming after him, SK2 crawls underneath the ring. Will has no choice but to wait as he holds the empty extinguisher, still determined to use it as a weapon. After a minute, no sign of SK2 and it causes Will to bend down and pull up ring skirt, surprising the crowd when Will suddenly staggers away while holding his left eye. SK2 emerges from underneath the ring with a lead pipe, revealing it to be the cause of what hit Will in the eye. Looking around for Will, SK2 abandons the lead pipe and goes hunting for that weird toothbrush with the needle bristles. He wants to show SK1 as soon as he gets to the back and he becomes excited upon spotting the toothbrush on the ground.
As he’s reaching down to retrieve it, one eyed Will slams a baseball bat into SK2’s back and hits him again for good measure as he focuses on his target with that good eye, keeping his injured eye shut so that his focus can be better and not blurred. SK2 is trying to crawl underneath the ring again but Will doesn’t allow him to as he begins hitting the back of SK2’s legs with that baseball bat, continuing to try to halt him from escaping underneath the ring. Will brings that baseball bat back down on SK2’s back and the audience just knows that it’s over with the kid. Deciding to get him into the ring, Will helps SK2 up just to roll him into the ring and waits until SK2 is a good distance away from the ropes before he slides in after him. SK2 isn’t moving as rapidly as he had done during the first half of the match and Will takes notices of that, feeling proud of himself as SK2 just lays on the mat as if he gives up. Will decides to just go for the pin and once he gets closer to SK2 body, SK2 suddenly shoves something into Will’s calve that causes Will to let out a pained yell as his leg buckles and he goes down on one knee. SK2 reveals that toothbrush that he had quickly swiped when Will had assisted him onto his feet and rolled him into the ring earlier. SK2 turns the toothbrush on and presses it against Will’s calf, applying pressure more and more each time into he turns the toothbrush off, shoves those needles into Will’s calf and turns the toothbrush back on. SK2 is still pissed about being sprayed with the fire extinguisher and leaves the needled toothbrush in Will’s calf, smashing his knee down on Will’s closed eye before going for the pin.

Santana Mentez
“And hereeeee is your winner, SKUUULL KIIIIID 2!”

Both Skull Kids advancing?? The audience thought that Skull Kid 2 would lose since Skull Kid 1 won, the odds being that both wouldn’t make it to the next round but per usual, the Skull Kids tend to prove people wrong. People underestimate them, think they are a joke but in that ring? They play zero games….. well, not ALL of the time. Skull Kid 2 appreciates being cheered but he’s off to retrieve that needled toothbrush to show to Skull Kid 1 and Mom Lisa.

The screen was black but a voice whispered through the darkness.

“It has been a long time since you have last seen me.”
Every “s” hissed throughout the arena.
“The paint is gone. The hair is gone. The mystery…destroyed.”

The blinding flash of a bright white light caused some in the arena to flinch and others to avert their eyes. His shined black shoes rest beneath his perfectly cuffed black suit pants. His neatly tailored jacket rest exactly where it should just below the waist line with top of the two buttons fastened as etiquette dictates. The white collared undershirt was left just slightly unbuttoned at the time, enough to reveal a bit of his muscular chest and traps. Viduus Morta was a new man.
“I said I have retired because I’ve lost my home. That home being 4 Corners Wrestling. So when I came to find out about Snuff Fest and I came running. I had to because as I saw the names pile up I couldn’t let the name of 4CW be soiled by any of the underachievers that are participating here.”
While his makeup as gone, his hair was shaved off and the spooky aura about him had been all but washed away, his smile remained unchanged. Creepy but almost charming.
“You see I became 4CW Extreme champion in the beginning of my career in a taipei deathmatch whilst close to half of this field has never even competed in a deathmatch at all. I used that to propel myself to the Pride title and eventually the 4CW Championship and let me tell you all…that I reached the pinnacle of success in this business and none of you could even lock the salt from the wounds that I have endured to get myself to the top.
Barkley is victim number one. Trained, mentored by Dakota smith for this event and mentioned to me as if it were some sort of threat. As if Dakota Smith had not been bested by me time and time and time again. Barkley if you are taking lessons from the Butcher let that lesson be to let your career go before tarnishing any reputation and legacy you have built.”

Viduus looks over his right shoulder and then glances over his left before looking back at the camera.
“Do you see me Barkley? Do you know me? If you don’t you will soon find out. The Viduus Morta you all knew was a puppet, controlled by you know who. The strings are gone my friends. I’ve got nothing left holding me down. My life has been taken back. It is my own. There is no Speaker to speak for me, no minions to do my bidding, no mind games…all that is left is unfiltered violence. What better place to show that than 4CW Snuff Fest.
Lisa. SHIDO. Devlin. Barkley. Holland. None of these people are 4CW, none of them. My name is synonymous with 4 Corners. My career was BUILT in 4CW. This is my house and as far as I’m concerned that gives me home field advantage. Let the games begin.”

He didn’t throw his head back, he didn’t move at all actually. His smile simply transformed slowly from an ear to ear grin to a deep laugh as the screen flashed again and Viduus was gone.
“Rockin the Suburbs” by Ben Folds begins to rumble cheerily over the loudspeaker as Barkley Moore makes his way down the aisle to a smattering of cheers from the crowd.
Santana Mentez
“Making his way to the ring, hailing from Silver Spring, Maryland and… being a one week protege of Dakota Smith, please welcome Barkleeeeyyyy Moore!”

With a huge smile on his face that hints him being completely oblivious to the massacre that is about to result, Barkley remains sunny in disposition as he retrieves his “lucky garden spade” given to him by Dakota Smith from the back of his tights and holds it high for the world to see. Phoenix raises an eyebrow while Laughlin comments on seeing how long Barkley is going to last in the match as Viduus is already in the ring waiting for him, ready to get this over with.
Viduus is disgusted at the sight of his opponent who appears more happy go lucky than serious about this match. Barkley is decked out in ring gear donned with the 4CW logo all over the place and he’s wondering if Phoenix gave him this opponent to mock him instead of giving him a more challenging opponent. Viduus looks to Phoenix from the ring to show his displeasure as the bell rings and is already sidestepping to the side without turning around as Barkley has made a lunge for Viduus, something the former 4CW Champion had predicted without even having to lay eyes on him. This was all a comedy to him. Something he could laugh at if he didn’t find it so annoying. Barkley is sliding out of the ring and Viduus just stands there, refusing to give chase if Barkley is on some cat and mouse chasing game. But Barkley has left the ring only to grab his trusty garden spade, the weapon he deems worthy enough to take out Viduus with. There are a few chuckles ongoing from the audience while Viduus seems annoyed by this comedic opponent.


The more frustrated fans heckle Barkley, thinking he’s making a mockery of Snuff Fest and hopes that Viduus murders him. Barkley sprints towards Viduus with that garden spade and Viduus ducks as Barkley swings the weapon at him with all his might. It might seem too predictable given Viduus was staring dead at Barkley while he rushed him but what no one expected was how quickly Barkley doubled back and swung the spade again at the back of Viduus’ head right after Viduus had ducked the initial swing. There was shock in the arena because many had betted on Barkley not getting on hit in and that Viduus would have this match wrapped up before the time reached maybe even 2 minutes.
Barkley’s getting a little ahead of himself with the confidence at clocking Viduus like that and he gives him renewed energy that he uses right away with trying to get more focused on his next moves, not wanting to become sloppy and catch all kinds of hell that’ll cost him the match. Barkley slams his fists down on Viduus’ back repeatedly in an effort to try to make Viduus fall to his knees to take him off his feet, showing more of a serious side. He hurries to the left to grab that garden spade and targets Viduus’ back with such intensity that Barkley probably knew if he didn’t, it might be all over for him once Viduus got his hands on him. Phoenix and Laughlin meet eyes for a moment after Barkley continues his assault on Viduus, becoming more audible with each hit as he starts yelling. It’s like watching the fed up, stressed out prey beat on the serial killer in a horror movie after being hunted down during majority of the movie. He finally lets up on the assault to take advantage of being behind Viduus and goes for a bulldog to put his opponent down. Viduus is up and Barkley is flying through the air with a short-arm clothesline, unsure of why he felt he had to leap and lunge to do it but it still did the trick! Phoenix and Laughlin are bored with the display, wanting to seem something more extreme with this seeming like a tickle fight in a tournament with the first word being Snuff.
Barkley out here revved up like a virgin Senior male in his hotel room on Prom night, standing over Viduus who is on his knees with that garden spade raised over his head and ready to crack the top of Viduus’ bald head like an egg when WHOOSH! Viduus spears the hell out of Barkley, that garden spade hitting the mat and no where near grabbing distance for poor Barkley who is being pulverized by Viduus, who has pulled a spike out of nowhere and begins stabbing Barkley in the side as the man’s howls and screams of pain causes the demented audience to cheer. Phoenix remarks about Viduus doing this to Erik Holland in their No Holds Barred match back in February and how she thinks this is Viduus’ way of showing that he still has that dark side in him and no remorse whatsoever for his victims. Viduus isn’t even interested in stabbing Barkley past 4 times, just enough to show Barkley what a taste of the deathmatch life is before he kicks Barkley brutally in the face multiple times until Barkley rolls onto his back and Viduus goes for the pin.


Santana Mentez
“And hereeeee is your winner, VIDUUUUUS!”

The medics are tending to an injured Barkley while the audience is satisfied that the match started to become violent towards the end. A slow start with a great finish and Viduus gets applauded for it as he looks towards the commentary table at Phoenix and Laughlin with a blank expression, his eyes landing on Laughlin first before moving onto Phoenix, looking at her longer as if sending her a message with his gaze before he turns to exit the ring.

Cloaked Figure
“There is always a reason. Without reason there is generally nothing at all. Many claim they are doing something with nothing in mind, no future plans, no care for the repercussions… But there is always a reason. For many, it is all to do with feelings and actions, chief amongst them being the lavish excess of this most brutal of battlegrounds, and the overbearing lust for both glory and attention, whilst yet still throw off any scent of care and wonder. And why do those who say there is no reason, say there is no reason?”
There seemed to be smoke swirling around the black robed figure, the lights in whatever room they were in dimmed almost to the point that nothing could be seen at all. The voice went on, unnatural to most ears, robotic in its nature as if pumped through a synthesizer.
Cloaked Figure
Static took the scene, before returning abruptly, a loud roar in the background as images seemed to fade in and out of the background, images of a giant, ripped and bloody, covered in unnatural scars. The figure roared silently, then seemed to tear apart anything it was holding onto, whether tree and bark, meat at the butchers’ table from bone, or an entire ring post from canvas.

Cloaked Figure
“But what if there was no fear? What if you stepped into new and free surroundings, walls both familiar and alien, ropes that feel the same and yet different, canvas that hurts just as much as any other and yet more. And yet less. There is reason for him being here. And the reason is the lack of fear. For you see, the proud dog wanders with the golden crown upon his head, sniffing out only those that feel no fear, that feel no terror, for they instill terror itself. Those that lust for blood, for no reason. Those that live to maim, for no reason. Those that wish to ruin lives and end careers and be known for being the great reasonless violence that is bled out upon the sport we die for.”
The surrounding footage continued, voiced by the synthetic robot dressed in black upon black, moving images in monochrome smashing and crashing bodies upon canvas, like Van Gogh painting with the power of Lucifer himself.
Cloaked Figure
“No Fear. No Reason.”
The figure lifted their head, the images swirling around them, now crimson in colour as their head rocked to and fro to a mute tune.
Cloaked Figure
“But there is so, so, so much reason for it all. For there is fear. If you hang from the top of a cell, looking down upon a twenty five foot fall, is there no fear? If you are flung from the four cornered ring onto a rose petalled bed of light tubes, is there no fear? If a heavy block of pure oak, coated in barbed wire is swung at your head, is there no fear? Many, so many who have gathered here today would claim they do not fear such a thing, and only desire to be the ones pushing them from the cell, flinging them from the ring, wielding the mighty block. Reason? No reason.”
The footage, like crimson fog gathered in the night, the figure in the background gaining an audible voice, cruel, violent, and the bodies their flung flew further and further, were slammed harder and harder, the sounds echoing out and clipping to each and every word the cloaked figure spoke.
Cloaked Figure
“But for one particular individual, even in his own presumed simplicity, he wonders if the reasonless and fearless can be afraid. Can they be overconfident? Are they here due to untold anger at a society, a company, a person or persons or the business as a whole? Do they feel pity, even in the most hellish of places and circumstances? Are they here to feel pleasure? They are surely here to feel pain, are they not? But are they here due to no fear? Or do they want to experience it all.”
From the swirling smoke came a figure, gigantic in size, the smoke vanishing around them like it had never existed at all, revealing the bare chested figure of the beast.
Ramsay Bodach
“Ramsay wants to experience. Ramsay wants it all.”
The Emperor of Parousia grunted, no synthetics to his voice, just pure and raw, simple and deep. The figure glared out with steely eyes, wearing nought but an Inverness kilt.
Cloaked Figure
“Whether it comes from the untold savagery of Jacobs, the creative violence of Hardaway, the veteran death wish of Rollins, the unforgivingness of Tyler, and the constant threat of Devlin. May it be the cold hearted experience of Norcia, the crazed nature of the Skull Kids, the championship quality of Viduus or the–“
Ramsay Bodach
“Big Tits of Bo.”
The Dog interrupted, making the cloaked figure uncharastically turn their head.
Cloaked Figure
“… yes, yes Ramsay.”
Ramsay Bodach
“Bo has big tits on Twitter.”
Cloaked Figure
“… yes, yes she does.”
Ramsay Bodach
“You like big tits. You look at big tits all the time.”
Cloaked Figure
It was clearly unexpected, the robotic voice of the shrouded cyborg growing higher pitched as they reacted to Bodach’s musings, making motions with their hands as Bodach glared into the camera, speaking in a harsh Scottish accent devoid of any real emotion.

Ramsay Bodach
“Like squishy watermelons of rage. Fruity violence untold. Bouncy Balloons of Bloodlust. Mammaries of Malevolence.”
The figure sat still, shaking their clocked head, and what seemed to be a pure blonde curl trickled free from under the hood.

Cloaked Figure
Ramsay Bodach
“Ramsay hate fucking pips. No pips. No pips in watermelons. NO PIPS!”
Ramsay Bodach, the Ghost of Blackthorn, wandered away, cracking each knuckle individually, as the cloaked midnight black figure leaned forward upon the chair they were sitting upon.

Ramsay Bodach
“Rum has nicest tits. “
Came the harsh Scotch voice, making the hooded mouthpiece pause for the merest of moments.

Cloaked Figure
“… And there are so, so many more. But the fact is, whether they say it or not. There is reason. And it is not just for glory. Every tournament has glory. May it be the Young Guns Cup, the Cult Classic, the Iron King tournament or the award winning Bad Company tournament from 4CW. All these tournaments, some of the greatest in the industry, they all hold glory. They give glory. They are glory. So what makes this one, what makes the SnuffFest so different?”
Ramsay Bodach
“Fear. Reason. Reason to Fear.”
Came Ramsay’s voice, wandering back into scene, drinking a bottle of water and never losing his gaze upon the camera, hovering over the figure in the cloak, while resting a meaty palm upon their shoulder.
Cloaked Figure
“What Ramsay is trying to tell you is that the reason everyone is here, is because of fear. They desire to instill it in the masses, but at the very same time, this could be the only tournament in the entire world where the fearless can feel fear. Where terror personified can be terrified. Where the horror in this industry can face off with the most horrifying beyond imagination. And it begins with the Zombie. Undead to the point that they can absorb more damage than any living creature can withstand. A monster who has experienced so much failure in life and career that nothing you inflict upon them can ever hurt them, can never injure them, can ever stop them. They just keep on coming, the mighty horde of what can’t fall further, dragging you down lower than they have ever been. A creature who acts mindless, but is so of mind to lure you into their trap, and once you are caught there is no escaping. Ramsay knows this. He wants this.”
The figure paused, Bodach cracking the widest of smiles as he gave a thumbs up to the camera, mouthing the word “nice” as he did so.
Cloaked Figure
“Ramsay Bodach has not just come here for glory. He has not just come here for the fight, against the most violent fighters in the world. He has come here due to a reason. And that reason is fear.”
Ramsay Bodach
“Ramsay want to face the violent. Ramsay want to face the crazed. Ramsay want to fight fear, be fear, face fear, feel fear. Only in SnuffFest can Ramsay have this.”
The camera lens then began to zoom in on Ramsay himself, the swirling smoke in the background once again picking up barbaric images, images of Ramsay Bodach in combat, showing off his preternatural strength and unrelenting rage within the squared circle.
Ramsay Bodach
“Make Ramsay experience FEAR! Make Ramsay fight FEAR! Make Ramsay become FEAR! Ramsay must fight every beast, every monster and experience this. Ramsay is EMPEROR! And this is EMPEROR’s decree.”
Bodach grinned, lifting his blood drenched knuckles in the air.
Ramsay Bodach
“Fear is Nice. Ramsay… is Nice. SnuffFest will be Nice!”
Along the outside of the ring there were various tanks of water on display, each containing a different type of aquatic animal. Inside of the ring, we have Mitsuo Shimada and Eddy Poe, neither a type of aquatic animal. Mitsuo gained control of the match early on, using his speed to his advantage as he attacked Eddy from all angles before he even knew what direction the last hit came from. Throwing Eddy to the ropes, Mitsuo was taken off guard as Eddy jumped into the air, planting both feet on the middle rope and springboarding off and back into Mitsuo with a back elbow to the face! The blow to the face sent Mitsuo stumbling backwards before he finally lost his balance and crashed to the mat. Just when he pushed himself up to one knee, Eddy rused in, jumping feet first into the air as he connected with a dropkick to Mitsuo’s face. The kick to the face popped Mitsuo up to his feet before launching him into the air. As Mitsuo landed to his feet, his back hit the ropes, sending his entire body up and over, spilling down to the outside floor.
Walking along the apron, Eddy stalked Mitsuo as he walked away from him in a daze. Picking up his pace, Eddy began jogging along the apron before leaping off and flying through the air towards Mitsuo. Sensing something behind him, Mitsuo stepped off course, dodging Eddy as he flew by and crashed to the floor as soon as his feet landed. Before Eddy could get up, Mitsuo was on his back, laying into it with downward punches, powerful lefts and rights thrown with no restraint. Pulling Eddy up from the floor, Mitsuo then walked him over to one of the tanks of water. Taking Eddy by the back of the head, Mitsuo then forced him down face first into the water, pressing his head beneath the surface. Throwing his arms wildly, Eddy was in panic. Meanwhile, Mitsuo laughed at the sight before finally pulling Eddy’s head up from the water. The camera immediately zoomed in to two piranhas with their teeth sunken into Eddy’s face.
Keeping control over Eddy, Mitsuo dragged him around to the other side of the ring where another tank of water was set up. Positioning Eddy in front of it, Mitsuo held him by the head, taking a moment to let the moment sink in. Reaching down into the water, Eddy pulled out an electric eel with his bare hand, slinging it over his shoulder and smacking Mitsuo in the face with it. Mitsuo released Eddy, stumbling backwards as he pulled his hands to his face. Reaching down into the water again, this time with both hands, Eddy then pulled out two more and turned to Mitsuo. Swinging both arms wildly, Eddy whipped Mitsuo repeatedly with both electric eels, forcing out whimpers from Mitsuo as the eel lashed against his flesh. Eddy chased Mitsuo around the corner before finally catching up with him. Swinging both arms in, Eddy clapped Mitsuo’s head with both eels. Dropping the eels, Eddy then grabbed Mitsuo’s head and shoved it straight down into the third tank of water. Laughlin hysterically, Eddy held Mitsup’s head beneath the water as if he were trying to drown him. Finally pulling Mitsuo’s head up from the water, Eddy shouted with excitement! Mitsuo on the other hand, he wasn’t in such a pleasant mood. Crabs were hanging from his face, their claws pinching his skin as blood trickled from the lacerations.
Eddy pulled Mitsuo to the fourth side of the ring where the last tank of water stood. Just as he went to grab Mitsuo by the head, Eddy was taken by surprise as Mitsuo delivered an elbow to his stomach, knocking his breath away. Popping up, Mitsuo instantly took Eddy by the head and slammed his face down onto the side of the tank, on purpose to stun Eddy with the blunt trauma. Still holding Eddy by the head, Mitsuo then shoved it into the last tank, pressing it beneath the water. Eddy’s arms began swinging madly before he grabbed the sides of the tank to try and pull himself away from it. Finally pulling his head out, Eddy pushed himself away from the tank, sending it falling over to its side. The water went everywhere as the glass broke into pieces and on the floor were snakeheads. YES! Those nasty looking mother fuckers on Animal Planet that eat everything and can crawl on land. Them little fucks! And Eddy’s face? You thought it was jacked up before, you couldn’t even recognize him with the torn flesh and blood everywhere. Instinct kicked in for Eddy. With survival on his mind, he quickly squatted and wrapped both hands around one of those big ugly mother fuckers. Picking it up from the floor, Eddy then turned to Mitsuo as he stood tall. Extending his arms, Eddy forced the snakehead into Mitsuo’s face, allowing it to take as many bites as it possibly could before Mitsuo finally managed to swat it away from Eddy’s hands. Kicking Mitsuo in the stomach, Eddy then pulled him into position for a package piledriver, dropping him on his head over broken glass covering the wet, hard floor. Grabbing another snakehead, this time a smaller one, Eddy then covered Mitsuo for the pin, holding the snakeheads mouth to Mitsuo’s lips for a not so pleasant kiss as the official dropped to the mat with the count.

Santana Mentez
“And hereeeee is your winner, EDDYYYY POE”

You know Eddy had to gesture for the closest cameraman to come over so he could address Cosmo as he talked to the camera for a moment. He finally breaks away to suddenly look at the commentator’s table, wanting to see the expression on Phoenix’s face to see if he had impressed her with making his intentions known to do so on twitter. Laughlin sniggers, teasing Phoenix as the camera transitions to the next scene.

Somewhere outside of the arena, Aokigahara Zombie sits by a loading dock with some Staples Center employees milling around and doing their jobs. Everyone gives him a wide berth as he is very busy filing a piece of metal to a fine point against a cinderblock. He grabs it by the handle covered in masking tape and rubber bands and inspects it holding it up against a light.

Aokigahara Zombie
“I am a little jealous, you know? Some of the people in this thing are going to experience these types of matches for the first time. I think I remember that first match. I was nervous. My body was tingling at the anticipation of pain. I was scared to death. Then the adrenaline hit when the first shard of the glass kissed my skin and I was sold.”

He swipes the edge of the shiv against the concrete a few times and seems satisfied at his work. Then he reaches behind his back and displays a jar full of fireflies to the camera.

Aokigahara Zombie
“I mentioned before how they are just moths to the flames in here. I don’t know the others’ motivations whether it be for notoriety, to make a name for themselves, to have fun, or just to experience something new. I do know that this will change them. I am not one to dismiss the skills of anyone else because everyone becomes an animal when pushed into a corner, and I think that is the point of the whole thing: To bring that little special something out of everyone.”

He opens the lid of the jar and the fireflies don’t fly out. He keeps grinning at the camera and then shakes the jar until they all leave and he waves his hand out with a flourish.

Aokigahara Zombie
“Moths on fire! Anyway, that is a metaphor. Take that fire with you after all this and shine! This match tonight is going to be an introduction for a few of you. I got Ramsay Bodach. I know Ramsay Bodach is a strong mysterious brooding hunk of a man and that’s all. Ramsay promises a pummelling and I hope Ramsay delivers. That third person talk is impressive but I hope he reaches in deep down to connect with himself. That is the only opponent you need to face in things like this. Will you be able to force yourself to continue when your body is yelling in pain for you to quit? That is what you will find in this tournament and I’ve been in that battle for many years. If Ramsay is up for it then I hope we can have a lot of fun. If not then I’ll be moving on and finding that special someone to enjoy this with. See you soon!”

Aokigahara waves and remembers he has a shiv in his hand so he puts it in his pocket and waves with his free and as the fireflies hover around him and disperse.


To say that this match started off with a bang would be an understatement. Only seconds into the match following the bell, a loud explosion went off in the center of the ring as Aoki was thrown down onto a landmine shortly after locking up with Ramsay. And just like a zombie, Aoki stood up to his feet with his head still in tact. His body on the other hand? It wasn’t a pretty sight to say the least but he was still in one piece, sort of. Before Aoki could come to his senses, Ramsay hit the ropes at his left, coming back at him full speed before leveling him with a running elbow smash to the side of the head. Stumbling across the ring, Aoki tripped over his own feet, falling inches beside another landmine. It didn’t go off, unfortunately, but Aoki seemed unbothered by the potential near death experience. Grabbing the landmine, Aoki then chucked it at Ramsay out of nowhere. Quick on his feet, Ramsay dropped to his stomach to the mat, dodging the incoming landmine just in time for it to go overhead and explode instantly upon smacking the turnbuckle behind him. The sound alone from the explosion forced Ramsay to pull both hands over his ears is if it were a flashbang disarming his senses, giving Zombie ample time to get back to his feet before Ramsay.

Not only were there landmines scattered throughout the ring and ringside area, but there were also all sorts of landscaping equipment from weed whackers to leaf blowers and even a push behind mower. In the ring with him was a weed whacker, not far from where he was standing. After taking it in both hands, Aoki looked like a pro firing up the two-cycle motor on the first pull. To be honest, it didn’t appear that he even choked the thing, but nonetheless the weed whacker was running at full speed. Still on the mat, Ramsay crawled in the opposite direction from Aoki, unaware that he even had the thing in his hands. Sneaking in behind Ramsay unnoticed, Zombie laid on the throttle before holding the weed whacker inches over his back, leaving just enough room for the tip of the cord to lightly brush across Ramsay’s back. Lightly or not, the cord cut into Ramsay’s flesh. Not satisfied with the result, Aoki then lowered the weed whacker, allowing it to dig even deeper into Ramsay’s flesh as it opened up multiple lacerations across his back. Pulling the weed whacker back, Aoki then held it at his side before rushing in and using it as a battering ram against Ramsay’s head. The initial impact was rough, the cord clawing away at Ramsay’s face before the motor decided to shut off. Giving the string a few more pulls, Aoki was unable to fire it back up so instead he began beating Ramsay over the back with it like a madman.

Throwing Ramsay through the ropes, Aoki sent him to the apron and as Ramsay began pushing himself up, Aoki rushed in and knocked him away from the apron with a running knee. Flying through the air, Ramsay crashed hard to the floor, rolling over a few times before stopping face to face with a leaf blower. As Aoki climbed through the ropes, Ramsay grabbed the leaf blower, quickly firing it up before Aoki’s feet touched the floor. Holding the leaf blower in one hand, Ramsay dug through his pocket with his other hand. Looking for something, Ramsay gave Aoki all the time in the world to get to the floor and in pursuit of him. Closing in, Aoki then lunged towards him, only to come to an abrupt stop as Ramsay caught him by surprise. Pulling out a handful of broken glass and thumbtacks from his pocket, Ramsay held his handful in front of the end of the leaf blower. Pulling the throttle as hard as he could, the force of the wind picked up, blowing the broken glass and thumbtacks out of his palm and directly into Aoki’s face. Swinging the leaf blower with both hands, Ramsay broke it over Aoki’s head, instantly dropping him to both knees.

With Aoki laid out on the floor, Ramsay then turned to the push mower. He struggled to get it fired up at first, but eventually turned the motor over before Aoki even thought about getting up from the floor. Pushing the mower towards Aoki, Ramsay pushed the handle down, lifting the front end of it up, leaving just enough room to clear Aoki’s head to force him to kiss the blades rotating underneath. Rolling over to his back, Aoki threw his hands up, grabbing the sides of the mower and stopping Ramsay from pushing it any further. Pushing it to the side, Aoki immediately shot up to his feet, swinging with a massive right and connecting to the side of Ramsay’s head, knocking him away from the mower. As soon as Ramsay pulled his hands away from the mower releasing it, the engine shut down. Kicking Ramsay in the stomach, Aoki quickly wrapped an arm around his head before falling back and pulling Ramsay down head first onto the motor of the lawnmower with a DDT! Reaching for Ramsay’s face, Aoki shoved his fingers down Ramsay’s throat, locking in a mandible claw. Ramsay’s arms began flying wildly in panic. With the claw still locked in, Aoki then grabbed him by the head with his other hand, lifting it up from the motor and slamming it back down onto it over and over. Ramsay refused to submit, but the official had no choice but to call the match as his body went limp due to him being knocked unconscious as Aoki is leading the clap for the audience at the victory he’s scored tonight.

Laughlin and Phoenix look onto Aoki closing out the show with the last match and the final victory of round one. The camera shoots to the duo as if expecting any last words but Phoenix gestures for the camera to focus back on the celebrating Aoki. There would be some things addressed and there definitely will be news on round two but right now? She wants her participants to have their moment. This is about them anyways… and who’ll be the 2019 Snuff Fest Winner.