New Status Quo

Miss F’s office was covered in bling.

Four FIGHT! NYC Islands Championship straps were laid out on the desk and one FIGHT! NYC Empire Championship.

Dickie Watson: Look, first off, we’re gonna need a fifth belt.

As we pan back from the desk, we see Dickie Watson, Shawn Warstein, Kasey Winterborn and Betsy Granger stood on the other side of the desk to Miss F, who was looking up at them expectantly.

Miss F: Yes, yes. In good time.

Shawn Warstein: In good time? Are we not important to you? Are you not aware that we turned up and took over in a matter of weeks?

Miss F: We just need you sign off on the formalities for Ascension first. So, who will be the official captain?

Dickie Watson: Well, we ain’t really got a leader. Teams don’t need a leader if they’re a democracy, right?

Miss F sighs.

Dickie Watson: Look, mate. There ain’t a chance that we don’t walk through your whole roster, and that’ll be after we already swept the floor with two of the other captains the night before. So it might as well be Shawn. Because by the time Ascension is in the books there won’t be noone left.

Shawn Warstein: Very gracious of you. Like he said, it doesn’t matter.

Miss F: If you say so. They always say that. Then when push comes to shove? Well, I wish you luck. Now, for the matter of the fifth belt. Do you even have a fifth?

Shawn smirks, Kasey grins, Betsy laughs. Dickie steps aside and pushes the door open, and in walks an unfamiliar face. Someone that nobody at FIGHT, except the hardcore of the hardcore, will have recognised.

The tall Australian touches fists with Dickie Watson, then they embrace. He bumps fists with the rest of New Status Quo, and then looks up at Miss F, who’s expression has not changed.

Aiden Reynolds: Alright, Sheila? Name’s Reynolds. So uh, I’ve heard you need some heads smacking together and you’re gonna give me a shiny nice gold belt to do it, yeah?

For the uninitiated, Aiden Reynolds is a long-time tag team partner of the FIGHT! NYC Empire Champion, Dickie Watson. They roll together as a team called the Commonwealth, typically. So now we had the two catalysts, Warstein and Watson, then Warstein’s girlfriend and best friend, and Watson’s best friend, in one formidable grouping. With Warstein seemingly captaining the ship, they were putting the rest of the teams on notice.

Watson smirked from behind Reynolds, as Miss F glared down her nose at the newcomer and his opening remark.




Friends in High Places

You can see Joe Montuori and Vhodka Marie standing outside the Hearst Tower. Both with bags in hand. Joe Montuori of course with his Gucci Duffle bag while Vhodka Marie has a large, oversized suitcase with her. Big enough to go on a 7 day cruise with.

Joe Montuori: You got it right?

Vhodka Black: Of course I do. I cannot wait to see her reaction.

Joe Montuori: I get knocked down, but I get up again.

Vhodka Black: That was a hit song.

Joe Montuori and Vhodka make there way to the door but only to be stopped by FIGHT security.

Joe Montuori: Oh great, here we go again.

J Mont drops his bag and is ready to throw down.

Security: We were informed by MISS F to check your bag before you enter the building.

Joe Montuori: Check DEEZ NUTZ too while you are it too.

Vhodka Black: I’m glad to see the cocky J Mont is still around a little.

Security goes through the bag and finds nothing but his wrestling attire and bathroom products. J Mont is good to go and they just wave Vhodka through, not even checking her big ass bag.

Joe Montuori: Really? This is discrimination. Total Bull shit.

Security: She is married to HR. She can do what she wants.

Joe Montuori gives the middle finger to security and as he takes about 6 steps, he notices a new girl at the receptionist desk who is giving him a dirty look.

Receptionist: Hello Mr. Montuori, I have heard so much about you.

Joe Montuori: And you are?

Receptionist: My name is Kayla. You don’t know me but you know my sister KAREN.

Joe Montuori looks up in the air and cannot believe he has to deal with her sister now.

Joe Montuori: Great another fat ass lazy BIT……

Before he could complete his sentence and get in more trouble with Vinny Black, Vhodka grabs J Mont’s arms and gets him away. She drags him over to the elevator and they get in. The door closes and they are off.

Joe Montuori (c) vs Anne Boleyn

FIGHT! NYC Queens Championship

Joe Montuori entered this match with all the hubris and gusto that he approaches most things in his life despite the downward trajectory he’s been on professionally since losing his Manhattan Championship to Todrick Tabor a few weeks back and more recently, losing the Island’s titles to New Status Quo. If you didn’t know any better, you might get the idea that Joe was not taking his opponent Anne Boleyn very seriously in this matchup but little did Joe know, not being taken seriously is one of Boleyn’s least favorite things right behind neckerchiefs and those tattoo chokers that girls in the nineties used to wear and are now for some reason coming back into style thanks to e-girls who don’t know any better yet. 

Anne Boleyn was presently making her feelings known about at least one of these things by way of using her boot to crush the windpipe of Joe Montuori who had sought to regroup in the corner after getting more than he bargained for in the early minutes of this match. Boleyn uses the ropes to steady her one- legged stance as she gleefully smiles while digging her foot further and further into Joe’s throat. Joe Montuori reaches up to clutch the boot of Boleyn, using his superior size advantage to put some heat behind the shove he gave her boot sending the second wife of King Henry clear across the ring to slap her back against the ring ropes. Joe, the veteran, knows that he will only have seconds to capitalize on the space he’s bought himself and springs back to his feet following Boleyn to the ropes and laying her out with a stiff-armed clothesline as she bounces back toward him. Boleyn who knows a little something about boorish pigheaded womanizers uses her smaller stature and superior intellect to duck his extended arm at the last moment crossing the ring at a lamb’s pace before turning and wrapping her arms around Joe’s midsection looking for a spinebuster but finding herself not actually able to lift a man who rivals the size of Henry VIII off the mat. Boleyn is nothing if not persistent giving it the old college try despite women of her time not being afforded advanced education but still finds herself unable to lift the much larger Joe Montuori off the mat. For her efforts she is rewarded only with a snickering Joe Montuori who uses his very large hands to shove her away from him before picking Boleyn up into a fireman’s carry, spinning her around on his shoulders in what Joe probably thinks is a display of strength but isn’t really that impressive if you consider how small royalty was back in the day. After a moment of “flexing” Joe steps toward the ring ropes launching Boleyn over his head and coincidentally the ropes to land in a heap on the floor outside of the ring. 

Joe Montuori who no one ever accused of being modest turns his back on the queen consort of England laying crumbled on the floor outside the ring, instead choosing to take a few pre-emptive victory laps in the center of the ring smiling and posing for all of what we are sure are his many adoring perfectly sane fans. After a moment of collecting herself an unusually busty tan Boleyn rolls back into the ring with her head down, stalking the turned Montuori. Joe, who is pretty sure he’ll have a shorter reign as Queen than Anne of Cleeves (she was the ugly one) turns and is somewhat surprised to see that Boleyn has recovered so quickly. Had he had even a moment more surely, we would have gotten to see a lot more surprise on his face as Anne Boleyn raised her face before absolutely decimating Joe with a swinging neck breaker before scrambling for a pin.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for Anne depending on how you want to look at it she would not find herself a Queen on this night. Actually, she wouldn’t even find herself standing over Joe Montuori’s motionless body as OCCHI sees all, including the fact that the real Anne Boleyn had just collected herself enough on the side of the ring to sit up and figure out what the hell was going on. The Boleyn in the ring reaches up, ripping the two-toned wig off of her head to reveal a shock of blonde hair and an entirely different queen than the other two in this match. The Crimson Queen Sahara stood vindicated over Joe Montuori, tossing the wig down to land on his chest before she spat at him and shared some very choice words about how she felt about his near constant barrage of constant death threats as the real Anne Boleyn narrows her eyes in anger up at Sahara, silently swearing to herself that she would have that woman’s head for this. One way or another. 

Dynasty Disaster

In an undisclosed location, four of the members of Dynasty all sat around a white circle table. With the exception of Joe Montuori and Ricky Rodriguez, both of which were booked for the night, everyone else was dressed somewhat casually. Which was a great thing, seeing as what they were doing for the time being, playing Spades. Not many words were being thrown around as everyone playing was deep in thought.

It was a combination of ideas from Paul and Michelle. A way to get everyone to come together and be on the same page before Ascension. And for a while, it was working. Michelle and Ricky were partners while Paul and Joe were teaming against them. From the looks of the piece of paper used to keep score, it had been a really close game. Despite the friendly intentions surrounding the game, tensions began to just be too much.

With the last couple cards to play, Joe played a Spade to cut over Michelle’s diamond which caused the Bronx Champion to become pissed. She slammed her cards down onto the table and rose to her feet, glaring daggers at Joe.

Michelle Moore: Bullshit, Joe! You renegged!

Joe and Paul both stood up and Ricky did soon after. With that smug expression, clearly trying not to laugh at Michelle’s outburst, Joe just shrugged his shoulders.

Joe Montuori: You have to call it when it happens, not three or four plays after. Not that I did, of course.

Michelle Moore: You knew we were going to win and you had to pull something like that, didn’t you? Whatever it takes for Joe to get his way, right?

Ricky Rodriguez: Ain’t that the truth, doesn’t matter who he has to go through.

The words spoken by Ricky clearly upset Joe as the smugness was erased entirely from his face. He turned his attention to the youngest of the group before speaking up.

Joe Montuori: You disrespectful little shit. I do this for you and this is how you repay me? I should come across this table and kick your fucking head off. And then go do the same to your bitch Sahara!

Before things can get much more heated than they already are, Paul steps in between Joe and Michelle and Ricky, keeping the two sides from coming to a blow. Voices shouted over one another as certain words were heard but nothing was really understandable. The door of that room swung open and in stepped Toderick and Austin Ramsey, each with a couple plastic bags in hand.

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: Hey, we got the..

Before Todrick could even get that thought out, her and Austin knew just what was going down. They quickly set the bags down onto the table as Austin moved to try and talk Joe down while Toddy did the same thing for Michelle and Ricky. When tempers finally began to settle, Paul was able to speak clearly.

Paul Montuori: We need to get our shit together. Everyone of us. Joe and Michelle. Ricky and Joe. This has to stop or we’re going to get punked out at Ascension. I don’t know about you but that’s not what I want at all.

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: He’s right. Y’all are at each other’s throats and they all see it. New Status Quo sees it. FYA sees it. Everyone. We don’t stand a chance in hell if we go into it like we are now.

Austin Ramsey: Come on, let’s all have a drink and we can work on putting this all behind us.

It’s revealed that those bags contained a few six packs of beer. He opened them up and passed them around which caused the mood to lighten just a bit. The sounds of those cans opening filled the air as the six of them raised their drinks up, some more enthusiastically than others, of course.

Paul Montuori: Individually? We have the best group possible. We just need t..

Without warning, Michelle ‘accidentally’ stumbled forward, falling into Ricky which caused him to crash into Joe, their drinks hitting the floor and spilling everywhere. And just like that, Joe and Ricky were in each other’s faces, yelling at one another. Toderick and Austin struggled to get them separated. Paul threw his arms up in utter frustration with the whole situation.

Paul Montuori: Why do I even BOTHER?!

The last few moments shown consisted of Joe and Ricky yelling at the tops of their lungs, Toderick and Austin playing peacemakers, and Michelle’s shit stirring ass snickering at what she caused. But Paul? Poor Paul was just done.

Jennie Fenix vs The Enforcer

Speed signals the beginning of the match as Jennie uses hers to slow down Enforcer. Arm Drags, drop toe takedowns and lower body kicks dominate the opening. As the pace speeds up Enforcer finally counters out of an attempted arm drag, hooking Jennie’s arm and pulling her in for an overhead belly to belly release suplex.

Enforcer pushes forward with his strength to dominate the match at this point. Utilizing suplexes, slams and raw power blows to wear down Jennie. A failed pin attempt leads to Jennie being slammed back first into the corner. Enforcer rushes in for a back shoulder but Jennie counters out over the top rope then back into the ring with a modified DDT out of the corner, a failed pin attempt follows.

Seeing her opening Jennie presses the advantage landing a missile dropkick off the top rope just as Enforcer reaches his feet. She ties him up on the mat into some twisted crossface chicken wing hold. Raw power helps Enforcer reach the ropes and break the hold. As he gains his feet Jennie is on his back locking in another cross face chicken wing on him, this one vertical. Enforcer throws himself backwards slamming down onto her on the mat, the ref counting a failed pin.

Enforcer takes the advantage, whipping around Jennie all over the ring and slamming her with ease. A sense of cockiness exudes from Enforcer as he constantly taunts the crowd before slamming Jennie down. In the corner Enforcer mounts the middle rope and grabs jennie by the back of the neck and hoists her for his reverse Chokeslam out of the corner, but Jennie manages to lock her legs on the top rope, Enforcer leaps off and loses grip on Jennie.

Enforcer lands on his feet after the failed finisher but before he can even figure out what happened Jennie hits him with the Siren’s song. Both competitors are out and barely get up before the 8 count of the standing 10. As Enforcer stumbles around the ring Jennie hits him with another Siren’s song and covers him for the win.

Sarah Gets A Gift

Sarah Wolf is revealed by the separation of the elevator doors. She is leaning on the back of the elevator,  her legs crossed at the ankles, and her face displaying the kind of smile someone like her only wears for aesthetic. There was no joy behind it. No happiness in any way connected to it. Unless you counted the love of making others miserable. And even she didn’t do that.

Stepping out of the floating metal box, she began to skip down the hallway, pushing people out of her way while she knocked the belongings out of other peoples hands. Lock down was over. The peons had to get used to her having the ability to go on walk about, and do what she pleased to who she pleased. And with a woman like this it could be anyone, or more likely, everyone.

Of course she would have her favorite targets. None more favored than the man behind the door of the HR office, Vincent Black. Having been docked there since his shoulder injury back at Toxic Tag, she had made it an especially important part of her week to visit him and say hello. No, Not hello. That was five letters. The words she used for him, her dear brother, stayed mostly in the four letter range.

Entering the office without so much as a knock, Sarah was stopped in her tracks at the sight of a middle aged woman with a mid range hair cut. You know the type, didn’t pay a lot but felt like she was splurging, and looked like she had a coupon. The woman looked up at Sarah and picked her glasses up to her eyes. They were dangling from a beaded string that looked like the kind of thing a child would make at summer camp after getting kicked out of the pool for shitting or drowning. Or both.

Luisa Fox: Can I hel-

Sarah Wolf: Tut Tut. Where is Black?

Luisa Fox: Vincent Black? Well he’s bee-

Luisa stopped, and sat back in her chair. The smile Sarah had on the elevator had become contagious, and the condition seemed to be worsening to those it spread to. Luisa, a woman Sarah had only just met, looked at her as if she had been left to starve in the dessert, and Sarah was both food, and water

Luisa Fox: You must be Sarah. I was told you’d be by.

Sarah Wolf: Were you? So exciting. Let’s talk about that right after you tell me  who the fuck are you?

Luisa Fox: He left something for you. It’s right there on that chair. Said I should give it to you as soon as you showed up. (Luisa leaned forward onto her elbows, smirking confidently) I can’t wait to find out what it is.

Sarah wasted no time, and grabbed the shoe box sized gift off the small corner table, and ripped into it. She opened the box and reached in, finding not a pair of shoes, but the blue shoulder harness that Vincent had been wearing over the last several weeks. Attached to it was a post it note pinned to the strap. It had no words, but a smiley face, with a very wide set V for eyebrows, making it look very sinister. Like >:) but way more angry.

Luisa Fox: Why, I do believe he told me to tell you something. What was it. Oh yeah, He’s back. And he’s coming for you.

Sarah dropped the box, and the gross sweaty harness to the floor, and stormed out. As soon as she was clear, Luisa placed a small triangle sign on the edge of her desk that read ‘L Fox, HR Director.’

Damon Riggs: That’s going to make Ascension a helluva lot more interesting! But who’s gonna get him? Is it the FYA? Is he going free agent? I got a feeling we’re going to find out here, tonight, on Venom!

Dane Preston vs Ashlynn Cassidy

Preston takes the upper hand right out of the gate, nullifying Ashlynn’s superior speed with a series of slams and drops. A failed early attempt leads to some more slams drops and whips to the ropes, with clotheslines on the rebound. As Preston goes for a big back body drop Ashlynn flips through the air to land on her feet, she uses the ropes as a springboard and drives a drop kick to his face that sends him slamming hard back first to the mat.

Ashlynn presses her advantage utilizing her speed to stay a step ahead of Dane. Snap takedowns and flying kicks lead to a failed pin attempt for Ashlynn and a visible display of annoyance before she presses back the effort. A leap from the top corner for a cross body splash ends with a body slam by Dane Preston and a pin stopped as Cassidy has a foot under the bottom rope.

Preston and Cassidy go back and forth both of them gaining and losing the advantage, until Preston manages to turn a hurricanrana into a swinging twisting neck breaker. Preston drives Cassidy down with a series of slams, drags and whips that end in various takedowns before failing to again get a three count. As Preston pushes his advantage Ashlynn counters with the under/over, then over, then over. Preston stumbles out of the series leading to the Period, Peace.

The spent and worn out Ashlynn stumbles to the ropes, the fans cheering her on as she then stumbles over to the down Preston and drops down hooking the leg. The three count signals the end of the match for Ashlynn who manages her feet and throws both arms in the air.

Just In Time For Hour Two

There’s applause from the crowd as our attention is drawn towards a luxury box that oversees the FIGHT! NYC arena where we catch a glimpse of Professional Wrestling Legend CENTURION being ushered into the suite. 

He raises his hand out towards the crowd acknowledging their respect. 

Centurion removes his sportcoat while tossing it across the back of an empty chair before taking a seat in a second chair as a classy hostess walks over with a tray offering Centurion a beverage of choice. 

Ricky Rodriguez vs Shawn Warstein

Warstein and Rodriguez had met in the middle of the ring in this match going chin to chin and eye to eye. There would be no sportsmanlike handshake on this night as these two men had made it quite clear that there was very little love lost between the two. Rodriguez’s face is set into a cocky smirk whereas Warstein just looks hostile. That’s not personal towards Ricky, it’s just how Shawn’s face naturally looks. Ricky Rodriguez seemed to think striking first was the way to go as he lunges forward taking Shawn Warstein off of his feet with a double leg takedown where Rodriguez mounts Warstein and starts hammering him with hard right hands. Warstein does his best to cover up before seemingly saying “fuck this” and uses his size advantage to manhandle Ricky off of him. 

As both men get to their feet It looks like the two are fixing to lock up, but Shawn Warstein quickly adjusts and ends up slamming the point of his elbow into Ricky Rodriguez face as the crowd roars in approval as Ricky Rodriguez stumbles backwards, Warstein makes sure he’s there to capitalize by wrapping  his arms around Rodriguez waist putting his head by Ricky’s rib cage. Shawn Warsteib plants his feet and lifts Rodriguez up off the mat before viciously slamming him down onto the mat with a flawless northern lights suplex, bridging into a two count pin that Rodriguez just manages to break. 

Warstein is on his feet as Rodriguez is sitting up looking at him shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. Rodriguez’s expression quickly changes from dazed to utterly enraged as he shoots up to his feet just to eat a perfectly timed superkick from Shawn Warstein. Ricky’s eyes roll into the back of his head as Shawn pounces on him to pelt him with a flurry of stiff right hands. Warstein retreats, choosing to play with his food, lifting his hands and motioning for Rodriguez to stand up and get himself vertical. Painfully slow Rodriguez gets his feet under him and the men meet in the center of the ring for a third time locking up. Rodriguez in a moment of desperation in his weakened state pulls his arm back looking to go for a thumb to Warstein’s eye. Warstein just manages to bob his head out of the way looking at the younger man before him incredulously with a warm fire of rage simmering just below his outwardly cool exterior. Rodriguez is clearly a man with a lot on his mind moving into the season finale PPV Ascension as he just can’t seem to get his bearings in this match against Warstein. Though maybe it all just comes down to attitude at the end of the day. Warstein approaches life with a chip on his shoulder the size of the great state of Alaska whereas Ricky is still early enough in his career that matches like this are merely business and another chance to prove himself. 

Warstein quickly lunges forward throwing all of his weight forward sending Rodriguez flying over his back to land with a thud on the mat behind him. Rodriguez once more attempts to get back up to his feet but Shawn runs in and places his foot on the back of his head drilling Rodriguez fair face into the canvas in what is one hell of a curb stomp. Warstein quickly drops on top of the other man securing the three count and the win.

You Can Trust Me

You can see Vhodka Marie and J Mont hanging out in J Mont’s locker room area. A lot of laughing going on which is good for a change. J Mont has not been himself lately and really been going through a depression. Maybe between Mia and his new best friend Vhodka, they can pick his spirits up.

Joe Montuori: This surely wont get me arrested I hope this time.

Vhodka Black: Well you know Mia will bail you out AGAIN.

Joe Montuori: I don’t want to put that stress on her again. But I think keeping quiet and executing this plan is just perfect. No one will see this coming. No one knows about this but me, you and Mia. I haven’t even told Paul yet and I cant tell Ricky, cause he has a big mouth.

Vhodka Black: You can trust me.

Vhodka rolls over her big ass suitcase to J Mont and smiles.

Vhodka Black: Good luck and I cannot wait to see her reaction with this.

J Mont and Vhodka fist pump as she leaves. J Mont takes a seat looking at the big ass suit case and it looks like that old sadistic Twizted Smile is back for a minute.


Betsy Granger vs Sahara

The Impossible Traveler was effervescent as she whipped The Crimson Queen to the ropes, catching her opponent before lifting her up and slamming her down to the mat in a quick snap powerbomb with the kind of authority that is usually reserved for mothers with unruly children or Vincent Black having to deal with, well, anyone on this roster I guess. Most people being put through the paces by someone like Betsy Granger would be shaken if not a little thrown off their game but Sahara was not most people, instead of finding herself in a minefield of mental insecurity she actually found herself feeling energized as her body hit the mat. You see, moments like this were what Sahara lived for. The rush of competition, not knowing if tonight was the night that your opponent was just a little bit better than you or if she had it in her to reach down to that place inside and solidify herself in the ring as all that she told herself that she was in her head. 

Sahara used this energy to get her bearings and her feet back underneath her but not before Betsy Granger had grabbed a hold of Sahara’s left wrist twisting it over her head before lifting Sahara once more, spinning her into the mat with all of her strength. Betsy drops down looking to secure the victory but Sahara manages to somehow get a shoulder up at the two count. Sahara, tired of being treated like Sergio’s ragdoll (it’s a good song!) grits her teeth as she scrambles from the mat looking to make an impact in this match or at the very least stop Betsy’s momentum. Sahara comes off the mat like a woman enraged, pummeling Betsy with rights and lefts that send her into a defensive position before she tries a counter of her own, throwing up an arm and looking for a clothesline. Close but no cigar, Sahara ducks down dodging Betsy’s toned arm spinning at the last moment with a mind to lay out her opponent with a super kick to the face but as fate would have it, Betsy had the same idea with both women nailing the other in the face with opposite legs. As they lay there on the mat staring up at the bright lights above them the fans around them are whipped into a frenzy as what a close competition this is turning out to be. 

As both women rise to their feet Granger attempts to come roaring back with a clothesline but Sahara is able to duck once more as she turns around Sahara leaps up and hits a beautiful flipping dropkick that sends Granger flying into the corner while Sahara lands on her  hands and knees. Sahara then explodes into the corner with a huge running knee right to the face of Betsy Granger. Sahara then hooks Betsy Granger’s head and then comes running out of the corner attempting to bulldog The Impossible Traveler onto the canvas, scrambling to make the pin fall. Granger is only a moment too short to interrupt the three count, shoving Sahara off in frustration as the fans seem to be split in their feelings on the outcome of this match.

Battleborn Panda

Sahara had it coming

A sound can be heard in the ceiling area. Sounds like there is some static in the air, then suddenly the lights shut off. Sahara was in the ring and that was the last thing we saw before this power outage of some sort. After about 2 minutes which seemed like an hour. The lights come back on and the fans are on there feet cheering. Not for Sahara but because they see a Huge PANDA standing in the ring, a few feet behind Sahara. She has a smile on her face but when she starts to hear the chants of “TURN AROUND“, she does just that. When she turns around, before she could do or say anything, her eyes light up and…



Down goes Sahara thanks to the Panda. But everyone knows that move. It’s the finisher of Dane Preston. Did he just go old school on Sahara, and get some payback?  The Panda is dancing in the ring for a minute and then waves to all the fans and slides underneath the bottom rope and retreats to the back.

That Girl is Poison'ed

And we’re not talking by Bell Biv Devoe either.

It was after the show and Occhi zoomed in on a table in the restaurant in FIGHT tower, we find VooDoo sitting at one of the tables with her twins, Ciara and Rose, son, Callan. With her is ex-husband, Vincent Black and daughter, Ripley as well as Roger Wright’s daughter, Marie. Missing were Vhodka Marie and Roger Wright, Roger was upstairs discussing old business with Xavier Black and Vhodka was more than likely running loose somewhere being a menace to society. VooDoo and Ciara had ordered chinese, sweet and sour chicken with chicken fried rice, crab rangoon and egg drop soup while Vincent had a steak and fries and the other kids had burgers and fries or chicken tenders. Vincent and VooDoo said little to each other; not because they hated each other or because of the situation they were in, but because she didn’t want to take away from any time that Vincent could have talking with the kids. VooDoo sat there eating her food as she listened to all the kids tell their father about their grades in school, which teachers they liked and didn’t like. Telling him about how the house that Roger was having built outside the city and how he wants them all to move out there so they weren’t cooped up at the apartment all weekend. Vincent glanced over to VooDoo was intently paying attention to her sweet and sour chicken until the conversation moved to something else. They were half way in the middle of their meal when Ciara made a face and stopped chewing. She reached into her mouth and pulled out something and looked at it. As the sudden realization came over her face.

Ciara: MOM!

She reached across the table and slapped the fork out of her hand, sending it and the fried rice on it flying. Everyone at the table looked at her as if she had lost her mind but it was VooDoo who asked her.

VooDoo: Have you lost your mind?

Ciara: It’s got shrimp in it. Someone tried to poison mom.

She held up her hand with the piece of shrimp in it. Rose picked up the knife beside her plate.

Rose: Who in the kitchen needs cut?

VooDoo: No one tried to poison, mom. She looked over at Rose. And who are you, talking about cutting someone. You’re ten years old.

Rose: Going on eleven.

Vincent Black: Well, I do think it’s time to get dinners to go. We’ll take your mom upstairs to medical and let them check her out.

When one of the waiters walked by, Vincent waved him over and asked him if they could get everything to go and to make up a box of desserts for the kids to go. VooDoo watched as the waiter made his way back to the kitchen and when the door opened Vhodka Marie was on the other side of it with two giant jumbo shrimp in her hands shaking them. VooDoo cleared her throat, catching Vin’s attention and then casting her eyes in the direction of the kitchen. He turned his head and looked that way just in time to see his wife mouth the words “Oh, shit.” and jump out of view. All Vincent could do was sit there and shake his head… the mothers of his children, the gifts that keep on giving.

Druscilla White vs Eoin O'Rourke

The pit had changed since the last time we’d seen it. In place of the large wooden poles that had been in place previously, several shipping containers were set up in a maze. Their doors removed and painted with the Fight logo on one side, and the Ascension graphic on the other. The two elevators on either side of the area both rang out at the same time, and their doors opened. Eoin stepped out of his. A red t-shirt and tan pants with taped up hands. And Dru, stepping out of the other, in all black garb with her hands also taped, but not as thickly. Neither of them can see each other at first, and slowly and carefully make their way through the maze of containers, leaving trails of kicked up dirt floor in their wake.

Setting eyes on each other, they both rush forward. Eoin stops short and lets Dru come to him, looking to steady himself on his back foot, and unleash on her as soon as she’s in striking distance of his incredible reach. Dru sensing what Eoin is doing, but being just tough and/or crazy enough not to care, rushes in. As she approaches, Eoin’s right arm snaps outward toward her, not coming at her but looking to push through her. But she moves her head ever so carefully, and while she takes the bottom two knuckles on her shoulder, she avoids the bulk of the hit and pivots off her left foot, placing a well landed left to the area just beneath Eoin’s ear. His neck, as thick as shit, takes the hit and doesn’t register it at all. 

Dru goes for another shot to Eoin’s head, but this one is blocked by his bicep. He spins and delivers a hard left to Dru’s side, and almost crumples her but only backs her off. Dru stands down, calling Eoin forward silently. Eoin starts to weave a bit, trying to throw her off as to which shoulder he’s going to throw, but Dru isn’t just a wrestler. She’s a fighter. And her eyes are not on his arms at all. They go from his hips to his feet and back again. His feet will tell her where he’s planning to throw, and how powerful it will be, and his hips will advertise when that’s going to happen just before he does. Of course a fighter like Eoin could easily throw a punch from any position, but a woman like Dru can take a few punches before she really has to throw one back, so she stays on target and waits for the opening.

Eoin sees her eyes and knows what she’s doing. He now has a choice. He can fight the way he wants to, the way he has trained to. Or he can alternate his stance and further throw off Dru. Of course, in order to do that, he has to establish his stance first. You can’t fake a tell without actually exposing it first. And while he might get hit a few times doing so, he was going to establish this false tell, and then he’d establish himself as the better fighter than Dru.

Dru and Eoin both took their shots, and kept each other off kilter as much as they could. Eoin depending on power to back the smaller and quicker Dru off of him, and Dru using her speed and maneuverability to keep Eoin from getting too comfortable.

Both plans of both combatants seemed to be going well, until at almost the same time, they didn’t.

It occurred in the seconds after Eoin’s plan was revealed. Switching back to his normal stance, he struck out at Dru but switched back to his alternate stance and then vice versa. Confusing her as to what was about to be thrown and how hard. Dru backed up with every hit, and was staggered quite a few times. She almost fell over toward the end, but not from a hit delivered by Eoin, but by the lip of the container she had backed herself inside of. Eoin followed her in as she crawled backward away from him. And then she stopped crawling.

She pushed both arms on the floor of the container and spun, landing her feet behind her and then beneath her. She rushed toward Eoin, and began to pelt him with shot after shot. Eoin blocked a few, but when he went to pull back to punch her, her’d hit his elbow on the container. And if he jabbed at her, he find her head bobbed out of the way and his fist hit the container. Suddenly, Dru’s plan became clear; His reach was amazing, but in this container, it meant precisely nothing.

Eoin, one of the largest and meanest men in the game, found himself trying to get out of the container with the smaller Dru moving about him effortlessly, lacing his form with every punch combination she could think of. As Eoin threw what would be his hardest punch of the night, Dru sidestepped it, and with a hook to his jaw that drove his head into the side of the container, and with gravity dropping his head to the floor of the container, Dru proved that it would also be the last punch he threw for the night.

Dru looked down at the unconscious Irish men and growled. She grabbed him by his hair, and struggled to pull him from the container, giving up after just getting his head past the exposed frame. She looked up at the OCCHI cameras, and with a scream, she demanded;



I Can Predict The Future

Sarah Wolf becomes a search party of one, looking in every corner and crevice of Fight Tower for her brother, who she has just recently learned is back in action. And like any good enemy, she wants eyes on him before he gets eyes on her. The term ‘on sight’ being her inspiration for such. As she turns a corner, she comes across a set of old brown boots with the laces undone and a pair of gray jeans cut into shorts that fell beneath the knee. She follows the legs up and finds Murphy Doyle Maher, eating an apple and looking at his phone.

Sarah Wolf: Look who is all by his lonesome.

MDM: Please, I’m almost done with this apple. Hate to lose me appetite ‘fore I do.

Sarah Wolf: Losing is what you do best, isn’t it?

MDM: Nah, What I really do best, is say ‘I told you so.’ Like when we met Sahara, and I said ‘that lass is gon’ be our friend one day,’ I got to say I told you so. Or when that lass previously mentioned was acting mysterious, and I predicted she was gon’ throw her hat in with the bowl cut fella, I got the right to say I told you so. And in a few weeks, when everyone has turned against yeh, and your name is nothing more than a fucking faded word on a discarded piece ah paper, I’ll set out to find yeh, and when I do, yeh know what I’ll say?

Sarah Wolf: I told you so?

MDM: Nah, I’ll say ‘yes I want fries with that’ because that’s where you’ll be working when all this is over. Because I see the routine of your downfalls and upswings. You do these so often, bats. The only one who can’t see the pattern is you, because yeh blinded by it. Even if I was too, I’d still know it was coming. Because I’d feel it…

Murphy throws the remains of his apple at Sarah, and walks away, wiping his beard of the apple leavings with a bit more pep in his step than usual.

MDM:…in my core.

Cleaning up the Evidence

Panda Head

Sahara, looking for answers for what just happened decided to go look for Dane. And what better place then his locker room area. When she finally makes it there, she takes a deep breathe and walks right in. Dane is no where to be found, but the answer she was looking for was starring her right in the face.


Was stuffed and in visible sight in Dane Preston’s locker. The look on Sahara’s face was sadness, confusion, upset, angry and more. She storms off like a bat out of hell. Is she looking for Dane? Is she going to get her revenge for what happened? We all know she wants answers and Dane is going to have to give her some now.

A Chronic Page Turner

Returning back to the luxury box we get another shot of Centurion on the phone discussing some of the action that he’s witnessed throughout the show. Clearly, he’s impressed with what he’s seen as he gets out of his seat before turning his head towards the closed door to his suite. 

Centurion walks over, the phone still held to his ear as he opens the door.

He finds himself staring at the back of a black leather trench coat. Centurion removes the phone from his ear before ending his call. Centurion calls out to the figure which garners no response. He reaches out spinning this figure around to reveal another legend in the form of…







The two stare each other down before Page sucker punches Centurion in the throat! He tosses off the trench coat before taking Centurion down with a double leg takedown as he transitions into a full mount position before hammering down upon Centurion’s face with a slew of right hands as the FIGHT! NYC crowd is in a state of complete and total shock! 

Page lands several right hands before getting up off Centurion. 

He picks him up off the floor of the luxury suite before hurling him face and body first into the wall busting a hole in the drywall from Centurion’s face. Page spins him around where Centurion headbutts him across the nose staggering Page backward. 

Centurion rushes towards Page and right into a Judas Effect elbow strike right on the bud of the chin that seemingly drops Centurion to one knee. The crowd is still in a state of disbelief as two of the wrestling legends are engaged in a battle on their program while neither is under any contract. 

Chris shifts his gaze as he turns around facing the ring while peering through the glass that separates Centurion from the crowd. Chris snatches Centurion up by the head where he draws him in where he whispers something in his ear before taking him and sending him crashing through the glass window and down into the crowd! 

Chris walks up to the broken glass opening as he gazes down at Centurion who lays on the concrete aisle way. Chris reaches out his right arm with his fist balled up only to raise the middle finger directed at Centurion.

Bam Miller vs Brandon Moore

Death Match in the Pit

The pit beneath the arena was where we found ourselves, and where we found a man who might have bitten off more than he could chew. But to look at him, you’d have never guessed it. In fact, he was happy. As a self-proclaimed Top Guy Slayer, Bam Miller felt in his element, as he ran his finger across the barbed wire that wrapped tightly to an explosive board that was rigged up on one side of the fighting space.

The ring itself had been deconstructed since earlier in the night. There was just a sunken pit, full of barbed wire, explosive boards, steel chairs and glass plates. The objects were laid out in a somewhat organised fashion, and the man who challenged Brandon Moore to this match was familiarising himself with everything at his disposal. He licked his lips, swung a baseball bat and rolled his wrist. If there was any element of “What the fuck have I gotten myself into?”, it wasn’t showing on his face. Not in the slightest.

His adversary was known, by those that knew him, as someone who revelled in this environment. Unmitigated chaos. Undisputed king of ultraviolence. As he stared down at Bam Miller in the pit, Brandon Moore cracked his knuckles and then walked out. As he stared at Bam Miller, up close this time, he was washed with emotion.

He wanted to decapitate this man for what happened to Michelle, Brandon’s wife. They were in the backstage area when his actions accidentally caused Michelle to go into early labour. Part of Moore knew that Miller didn’t do it on purpose, but the other part of him knew more than anything that he must not let him be unpunished.

They stood nose to nose, they could feel each other’s breath as they inhaled and exhaled, and they were just staring into each other’s eyes. Neither man wavering. Who would make the first move? Who would flinch first?

Miller swung the bat at Moore, and it hit him in the chest and arm. He staggered back half a step, and growled deep. He bit back the anger as the pain flushed through his body, then reached out to block the follow up strike. He wrapped his hand around the barbed wire that was entwined around the bat and white light flashed before his eyes as the pain of several razor-sharp barbed pierced the palm of his hand, but through this action he was able to pull the bat from Miller’s grasp. He drove a boot into his adversary’s gut, then brought the bat down over Bam’s back with conviction. As Bam dropped to his knees, Moore placed a boot firmly on the back of his neck, then dropped the bat beneath his head and then stomped down, driving Bam’s forehead not only into the floor but into the bat.

As Bam yelped out in pain, Brandon pulled the glove he had on his left hand off, revealing a pool of blood streaming from several deep looking gashes on the palm of his hand. He shook it off, and drove that same hand into the skull of Miller. He rolled Miller onto his back and made a lateral press, but the automated counting machine got to barely a two before Miller thrust a shoulder up. He wasn’t going to give up, in fact, over the course of the next six or seven minutes, the battle swung mostly in Bam’s favour, as he fought through a crimson mask and made use of steel chairs and a large 2×4 to control Moore.

Brandon was questioning this whole situation as he found himself being ziptied to an explosive rig, Bam Miller wasn’t the joke that everyone thought of him. In fact, this was starting to go South.

Bam drew a finger across his throat, wielding a fluorescent light tube in one hand, and staring bullet holes through Moore who was prone against this explosive barbed wire rig that was propped against the wall.

In this moment, Brandon Moore had to think about Ezra, his tiny child who had just come into this world in a traumatic way. He had to think about this deathmatch, and what he was doing with his life. He had to think about how he would get himself out of this mess that he’d gotten himself into. Because nobody, not least Brandon himself, had expected Bam Miller to be this tough and this resilient. Maybe Moore had blown his wad trying to get the job done quick, and Miller was grinding it out. All Moore knew is that if he didn’t get the fuck out of dodge RIGHT NOW, it might be over.

As Miller approached Moore, Moore used everything in his might to drive both of his feet into Miller’s face, staggering him backward. Great, another second to try to figure out a way out of here. The barbed wire, that’ll have to work. He worked his wrist against the cluster of barbed wire and tried to break the ziptie.

Miller was coming again, but Moore thrust out an elbow that Miller didnt realise wasn’t tied anymore, caught him off guard. He staggered back, and then Moore grabbed Miller by the little hair he has and drove him at full speed into a plate of glass.

Pulling Miller from the wreckage, he gripped tight on a shard of glass and drew it across the cheek of Miller, gashing him open. He then wraps his legs around Miller’s head and squeezes for all of his life as he locked in the Living Tribunal. The life was disappearing from Bam Miller’s eyes, and blood was filling up all of his face as the new cut gushed everywhere. Brandon Moore took a moment, in this moment, to savour it. Because it’d likely be his last deathmatch, he was changing for the better, after all.

And whether it was the momentary lapse of concentration, or the blood which greased up the friction, Bam Miller had managed to slip his head free, and thrust himself free. As he pushed himself to his feet, he staggered. The blood loss, the amount of damage sustained, all of the trauma had him on jellied legs. Moore, on the other hand, was simply in disbelief. He didn’t know what he needed to do to end this. He would have to commit a murder live on air to end this, and he was prepared to.

He reached for Miller, as Miller reached for him. Legs are longer than arms. Fuck.


The Top Guy Slayer dived on top of Moore, and the whole world watched in shock as the pinfall counting machine counted up. One… two… thr– 

A shoulder came out from beneath the pinfall attempt. Moore smarted, gripping his jaw. Miller threw a right hand, Moore ducked, hooked in a half nelson. Grabbed the other hand, then dragged Bam Miller closer to the pile of shrapnel and glass on the floor before throwing him over his head in a snap dragon that he calls Ouroborus.

But he wasn’t done.

Perhaps he would have been done if not for the surprising performance that Miller came with tonight.

Moore stood over the broken Miller, grabbed his hair and pulled him to his feet aggressively. He spun him around, lifted him up and then took three steps and he knew that what he was about to do would put everything in jeopardy. Ascension was around the corner, his wife was in the same building with their child, what he was about to do could fuck it all up. But sometimes the mist descends, sometimes the situation life puts you in leads you to a dark path.

He clutched the head of Bam Miller, stepped once more right into the explosive rig and dropped him and his own body directly into the explosive c4 rig with a devastating EVERBLACK.

Kaboom. Smoke, flames, crackling, the pair of them.

Moore’s legs laid over the body of Bam Miller, and the wall lit up with ONE, TWO and then finally a THREE.

There Can Only Be One

Momentarily, Brandon Moore was on his feet in victory, but he fell to his knees. Collapsed. He just put himself through an explosion to make sure Bam Miller knew who he was fuckin’ with.

Just then, from one side of the pit appeared Shawn Warstein, the newly minted leader of the incumbent New Status Quo. His eyes were trained on one person.

But then Dane Preston appeared, the leader of the FYA team, and he stepped forward too.

Now Warstein’s eyes focused on Preston instead.

Then Paul Montuori appeared. Now we had the leader of Dynasty.

Brandon Moore was the assigned captain of The Cure’s team, despite not being an official member.

Moore was in no position for this, but to his feet he stood, ready. He waved them on, he would die before he surrendered. They each knew that there could only be one winner at Ascension.

The fall won’t kill you; but the climb might.

As Warstein, Preston and Paul Montuori converged on the bloodied Brandon Moore, the feed cut to black.