Familiar Shores

Fresh off the high seas and back on familiar shores, the lights dance around the FIGHT! Tower arena, as fans start to pack into their seats, and filter through concourses, the energy starts to feel alive in anticipation as we prepare for the first show in the Tower of Season Two.

We cut to shots of Sahara laying out Dickie Watson and Vincent Black, before tossing Dave the Dinosaur overboard. We see Miss Michelle seeing off the challenge of young Jennie Fenix. Chris Page addressing the crowd, then speaking to Todrick Tabor-Ramsey, then laying him the fuck out. We see New Status Quo in the ring, laying down the new state of things.







Strange Operation

Miss F: Listen, listen. I understand. The problem is..

Tara Fenix: No, you listen.

The scene fades into one of the penthouse offices in the FIGHT! NYC Tower. In front of Miss F in her office is Tara Fenix. She has just been told that Jaxton Matthews will not be participating tonight.

Tara Fenix: I am… reasonable… mostly. I am. But tonight is my debut, after last week on the Cruise, I’m going to open the show, it’s going to be great.

Miss F: He didn’t pass his medical. He can’t fight. It’s out of my hands.

Tara throws her hands up in the air.

Tara Fenix: You don’t pre-vet them? You don’t make sure they are all clear before putting them on the billboard? What kinda.. Sheesh.

Tara is standing now, pacing. Miss F looks over the frame of her glasses at the new roster member, then back down at the paperwork.

Tara Fenix: Find somebody else

Miss F: I beg your pardon?

Tara Fenix: You heard me. Find me someone else.

Miss F: I understand your disappointment, Miss Fenix. Truthfully. A lot has been made of this. I am sure I can make this up to you on Venom #13. Tonight, my hands are tied… but next week, next week will be worth it. You have my word.

Occhi redirects us back to ringside as Tara Fenix throws her hands up in the air again.

Bam Miller vs Eoin O'Rourke

Confidence rides high for both men as Eoin and Bam lock up in the middle of the ring. A series of back and forth arm drags, precede a gut kick and side walk slam by Bam Miller who leaps into the air with flare and excitement.  Bam yanks Eoin to his feet and whips him into the corner following in close with a splash then running bulldog out of the corner. A failed pin attempt follows before Bam has Eoin back on his feet and is scooping him for a slam.  Eoin manages a counter and wiggles over the back of Bam yanking him down by the head back first to the mat.

Eoin takes a moment to shake the pain out then struts for a minute before going on the offensive. Quick takedowns and whips to the corner precede and running swinging neck breaker and failed pin attempt. Eoin pushes the advantage and continues the onslaught leading to Bam in a sitting position in the corner on the top rope. Eoin climbs to the middle rope and hooks him for a suplex but Bam counters, breaks the hold then leaps over the top of him grabbing him and delivering a neck breaker from the top corner. 

Both men are down as the ref counts the ten, but Bam gets to his feet first. Both men meet in the middle of the ring, a left follows a counter left, then a series of rights, then a block by Eoin and a block by Bam. Neither man gives an inch.  Bam ducks right and takes Eoin down with a drop toe hold. Eoin jumps to his feet and spins with an anger and growl on his face catching a kick to the stomach and the BAM! MILLER TIME!


Here Comes The Chronic

We cut outside of The Tower where a black SUV-style limo is shown pulling up to the curbside. The back driver side door swings open as thick smoke billows out from the moment the door is cracked until it opens fully. 

Stepping out of the limo decked out in a tailored suit is none other than “Chronic” Chris Page.

It’s hard not to notice the white bandage across the top of his forehead from a bloody war with Centurion not even 24 hours ago in Athens Greece. There’s a steady amount of boos that can be heard from the crowd as Chris brings a small piece of a joint up to his lips taking its last toke before thumping it down to the sidewalk. 

He blows several smoke rings as he starts to walk towards the entrance of The Tower when he’s approached by a backstage interviewer.

Serotonin: Yo! What up with this homie comin’ in hot? Ain’t you in Greece just last night?

Chris Page: You make it sound like Greece is more than a seven-hour flight to New York. You do know it is possible to make that trip, right? Especially when you own your own jet. Nonetheless; yes, I’m here tonight and I’ve got but one thing on my mind… watching Joe Montuori skull fuck the Manhattan Championship out of the hands of Todrick Ramsey.

The crowd erupts into louder boos with the mention of Montuori’s name, or perhaps the graphic reference to what he wants to see tonight on Venom. 

Serotonin: Why you attack Todrick last week, man?

Chris Page: Attack? Listen, do you know what an attack is? Little Miss Prissy is on my radar for a reason. I didn’t show up to disrespect anyone last week on that cruise ship. I was showing the proper respect I’d show anyone that I want to get in the ring with. When she, he, it… Whatever the fuck Todrick Ramsey wants to be that’s cool, but what you’re not going to do is step into my ring; make no mistake about it when I say any ring I step foot in IS my ring, you don’t step into my ring unless I invite you. Todrick completely disrespected me by stepping on my time. Letting you know I’m coming for you, and interrupting me are two separate things. Last week on Venom we made history. This week on Venom we press forward, and the game really begins. 

Chris takes a pause for a moment.

Chris Page: Now if you’ll excuse me I need to get going.

Serotonin: Wait, before you go…some Thad dude been chirpin’ that you are managin’ his affairs. Is this a new direction for Chris Page? You bigshot agent guy now?

Chris Page: The only thing I’m willing to say at this point in time is this, no comment.

Chris points towards a door.

Chris Page: That way, right?

Prickishly Chris Page smirks and pats Serotonin on the shoulder as he essentially just walks off towards the entrance of The Tower leaving her in the cold New York Night. He stops just before entering the Tower before turning back around towards the cameraman as he states.

Chris Page: Tell old man Riggs that BIG TIME Chris Page has officially arrived.

Atara Themis vs Anne Boleyn

The Goddess and The Queen started off this match as you might assume two women of their stature would, viciously trying to get the one up on the other for a little early added advantage. As the women tested their prowess against each other they found that they were actually very similarly matched when it came to fisticuffs. Atara Themis being a living human with formal wrestling training seemed to be taking the upper hand in the early moments of the match but it was when Boleyn called for a timeout to consume an uncomfortable amount of milk at ringside that the tide somewhat changed and Boleyn found herself re energized taking the fight to Themis. 

Boleyn and Themis meet for a lock up but Atara spins around and lands a back elbow to the temple of Boleyn, following through with a right hook that causes the other woman to stumble back. Boleyn hits the ropes and rushes forward driving a forearm into the fair face of Themis, Boleyn reaches out to take hold of Themis but the other woman shifts, grabs her arm and slings Boleyn into the corner following her in with a drop kick to the midsection that has Boleyn tasting that mid match milk a second time as it threatens to come back up from the darkened pit of her stomach where it is presently sloshing around.  Boleyn wobbles out of the corner as Atara gets to her feet, hooking Boleyn for a suplex that Boleyn counters with a back body drop that sends Themis lower back first into the top turnbuckle. Boleyn reaches out and drags Themis out of the corner landing a knife hand chop, followed by another and then one more for good measure just to make sure that her opponent was not taking her too lightly. Boleyn with the reflexes of a pigeon on some sort of caffeinated beverage jumps up, springing off the middle rope to crown Themis with two gripped fists directly on the top of her head sending the Goddess to the mat. Boleyn pulls Themis to her feet and Atara lashes out with an elbow to the gut of Boleyn looking to take back some control in this match but Boleyn is able to counter with a hip toss into a seated abdominal stretch. Boleyn pulls back on both arms and presses her dainty knee hard into the back of Themis really laying on the pressure as she mutters something under her breath about commerce and cheese. Atara Themis is made of stern stuff and refuses to give up, slowly gaining strength and getting to her feet. Anne releases Themis seemingly just a little miffed at the other woman’s refusal to go quietly into the night. Suddenly, Boleyn tilts her head up to the rafters as if she’s listening to something that is lost to the rest of us in attendance who cannot commune with the pigeons that are surely roosting up above the ring at this very moment. The Marquess of Madness face suddenly cracks in a wicked grin as she draws the weakened Themis into her body hitting a Queen Cutter out of nowhere that sends Themis to the mat only long enough for Boleyn to secure the win. 


All is fair...

“Heya, Aiden…”

The voice was clearly disguised. As Aiden turns toward the source of the voice, the lights suddenly go dead, causing the multiple Occhi system cameras in the area to kick on the infrared night vision mode. Bathed in shadowy shades of green, Aiden Reynolds turns toward the phantom voice. A dim figure flits across his field of vision.

Aiden Reynolds: Who’s there?!

He spun around, hands raised instinctively. There was a sinister laugh.

“I can see you, Mr. Reynolds, can you see me?”

Aiden Reynolds: Is this how you do things? In the dark?!

“Consider it insurance in case your little get-along-gang breaks free of their prison. It would seem the lock to their room was somehow damaged. Please stand by while a FIGHT repair crew is deployed! Which begs the question, why ain’t you with them?!”

Aiden Reynolds: We don’t rol–

There was a loud *thwack* sound as Aiden let out a howl and falls to the ground, clutching the back of his knee. The disguised voice was full of contempt.

“I’m sorry, that was more of a rhetorical question. I don’t actually care.”

Aiden Reynolds: Dane you fuck, is that yo–

The shadowy figure makes a buzzing sound…


*THWACK* Right on the crown of the head. Aiden grabs his head in reaction, stumbling on his feet.

The figure deftly twirls a kendo stick and tucks it under an arm as it slowly circles Aiden Reynolds, who searches frantically in the darkness.

“Ya know, I’ve always wondered why they leave these things laying around everywhere at wrestling arenas…it’s cliche. Useful, but … cliche.”

Aiden Reynolds: At least make it fair, turn the goddamn lights on!


*THWACK* Seconds pass. *THWACK* *THWACK* Two more perfectly placed shots come down across Aiden’s back.

“You mean like the NSQ?”

As Aiden hits the ground clutching his head, the figure steps in front of him with the stick resting on a shoulder. The word ‘Valhalla’ shines off a boot, reflecting in the camera’s light.

“After Ascension, I don’t play fair no more…”

*THWACK* *THWACK* *THWACK* *THWACK* *THWACK* As Aiden turtles defensively, she repeatedly brings the stick down on him. *THWACK* *THWACK* After two more perfectly placed shots, the kendo stick begins to splinter and little razor-like shards fly in every which direction, she breaks it over a knee in frustration and tosses it to the ground. She immediately proceeds to stomp him repeatedly. Finally, she stops. Hands resting on her hips as she gazes down upon him. Crouching down next to the fallen Aiden Reynolds, the darkened figure who is obviously Sahara taps him on the back of his head.

Sahara: Hey. Aiden. Tell the rest of your little crew I ain’t goin’ away. And tell Raven I’m gonna shove that action figure up his ass.

Hearing the cavalry in the distance, Sahara stands up and drops something next to Aiden Reynolds. She walks off the scene just as someone hits the breaker. A loud pop is heard as the lights flicker to life. Aiden Reynolds sits up, clutching his blood covered head. And a pair of night vision goggles lay next to him.

Betsy Granger vs Apathy

Some people have a chip on their shoulder.

After everything that has happened in Apathy’s career, and then to have the season like she had in FIGHT! NYC’s first season? She had a point to prove. More than a point to prove. She came out of the gate like a prize bull, physically dominant from the get-go. Betsy struggled with her, trying to outmaneuvre the behemoth to no avail. Apathy took clear control and made several pinfall attempts. Betsy finally had the wherewithal to dip out of the ring for a breather, and as Apathy followed her in an attempt to not lose momentum, The Impossible Traveler stepped out of the way and Apathy went face-first into the barriers separating the crowd from the action.

Betsy knew she had to dig deep. She struggled last time she flew solo, against Sahara, and with all the success of the wider New Status Quo, she felt the pressure to uphold expectations. She saw the opportunity, now that Apathy was stunned, and drove her head into the steel ring post. The referee overhead barked down at her and the countout clock was ticking away.

“Fine”, she muttered under her breath, and rolled into the ring. By this point, she’d even take a countout win.

But as the count neared 10, Apathy summoned herself to her feet and squeezed under the bottom rope. Straight into a vivacious heel. Betsy Granger was showing her mean streak as she grinded the heel of her boot into the face of Apathy. The crowd enjoyed it and certainly she did, too. Then we had the swing of the pendulum, Apathy was on the back foot and Betsy had managed to get herself really going.

A cobra-clutch legsweep takes Apathy to the floor, and then Betsy locks in a bulldog choke. Apathy is starting to go red in the face, and flustered. She fights with everything she has, but Betsy is under the chin and she isn’t letting go for anything.

Betsy’s playing to the crowd now, readjusting the grip, theatrically going from standing to kneeling and back to standing, and then she makes a signal to the crowd. The left arm, the one that was gripping the bulldog choke, loosens, her right arm slides under the chin, she shimmies her hips and is in perfect position to hit Galactic Advantage, a sickening Snapmare Driver.

But there’s an inch of space. Perhaps less. It’s impossible to tell, even with all the technology in the world. Apathy gets a finger in the gap, then another, then she has enough leverage to create separation. Betsy gets shoved forward face-first into the ropes, she clatters backwards and Apathy takes her in her clutches. AFFLICTION, a concussive DDT that sends a shockwave through the arena. Because nobody gets up from that, and everybody knows it.

What an upset.

Apathy stands up defiantly, her teeth bared, staring down over Betsy Granger.

Apathy: It’s time to take me seriously.


James Raven vs Allison Riggs-Preston

James Raven entered the rings with a swagger that matched his reputation to a t. Standing across from him was Allison Riggs Preston, who was used to all manners of swagger and reputations, and thus was not impressed. She pulled her knee pads on tighter and adjusted her waistband, not even looking in his direction. James found this amusing and mocked her stone face with one of his own, while miming her actions with enough sarcasm to fill an episode Curb Your Enthusiasm, the popular tv show from the minds that brought you those Seinfeld plays Anne Boleyn can’t seem to get enough of.

As the referee booth buzzed and alerted both of the competitors to begin, the crowd cheered as they roared back and raced toward each other. James Raven, who had referred to Allison as nothing more than a toy to be passed back and forth between terrible men, and Allison, who had reduced James to nothing more than a nice set of abs, which he was not the only one to have. If either of them had known that the other felt this way, perhaps they would have charged each other even faster, but considering the breakneck speed in which they did so, that doesn’t seem likely.

The voracity in which Raven and Allison went at one another was nothing short of incredible. Raven, taking the role of ring commander, used his presence of mind and tactical strengths to push Allison to where he wanted her, getting her in several situations that she almost didn’t get out of. Where as Allison, Allison relied on the brute force and anger she had inherited from her parents, and had been taught by her mentors.

The crowd began to feel a little underwhelmed at one point, as every attempt by one was met with avoidance by the other. Both of these athletes did not respond well to this, and the notch moved up several spots from that moment on. They weren’t trying to beat each other anymore. They were trying to destroy each other.

Allison doing her best to prove that her father and everyone who had a hand in getting her here was not wrong for their effort or belief. And James, who had walked into smaller doors and made bigger waves, intended to show FIght exactly who he was and why that was a big deal.

Only one could be right, and one had to be wrong, and it was no longer lost on anyone, especially not on the pair in the ring.

Raven blocking punch after punch, Allison reversing attempt after attempt could only last so long. The war that followed lasted longer than most gamblers would bet.

At the 11 minute mark. James Raven began to unleash what his MD father would refer to as an ‘Acute retro-assault that produced Edema, abrasions, and contusions to the epidermis, which should Allison not care for, could lead to an abscess or worse. As James took Allison by the shoulder and laid into her with hit after hit, Allison became angered, and tried to turn around and smack Raven, but with the sort of effort most would expect from the self proclaimed and self proven ‘people’s goat,’ quickly leaped up and grabbed Allison’s neck, driving her down into his Flight of the Raven driver. Allison would make the attempt to kick out, but would not get her shoulder up in time.



Both participants are ready to go with the Manhattan Championship on the line with what is sure to be an intense rematch. The crowd in the tower is at a fever pitch, and just as the referee is about to call for the opening bell. 



The crowd gives a huge ovation upon the countdown clock ticking down from five down to zero before breaking into Fozzy’s “Judas”. All attention diverts towards the top of the ramp where he has a steel chair in hand. He opens the chair up and sits it on the ramp. Todrick has a look of utter intensity in her eyes while glaring up at Chris Page who in turn blows her a kiss while taking a seat in his chair to observe this monumental rematch.

Tactics from the Goddess of War

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey is standing with the Manhattan Championship on her shoulder. Her make-up is flawless, and the backstage interviewer is standing next to her.

Backstage Interviewer: Ladies and Gentlemen, I am standing next to the reigning Manhattan Champion, Todrick Tabor-Ramsey, who in just a few moments will defend the said championship against Joe Montuori, who is looking to become the first-ever two-time holder of the title. Welcome, Todrick.

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: Joe can look to become the first person to hold this title twice, but it will be just that. A look, because as I said earlier this week, now that I have had a taste of what it’s like to be at the top of the mountain, I do not plan on descending any time soon. I know that he is in a different headspace, but so am I.

Backstage Interviewer: What strategy will you employ tonight during your match?

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: Joe has the distinct size advantage in this match. I will have to use all my speed and wit to keep him from being able to throttle me around. Sometimes, a good defense is just as good as a good offense. If I allow him to tire himself out and get frustrated when he goes for big spots and comes up short, then I will win. It’s all about the long game here.

Backstage Interviewer: Speaking of the long game, are you worried about “Chronic” Chris Page interfering in your match to get inside your head?

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: Chris has y’all believing the hype that he is this ultimate game master that will throw me off my game. I’m the type of girl that plays the game harder, faster, gets dirtier than the other players because I refuse to have anyone say that I’m not good enough. Chris is another obstacle in my path to glory, and just like any other obstacle, I conquer it and keep it moving.

Tonight is not about Chris Page. Tonight is not about Austin Ramsey; tonight is about Todrick Tabor-Ramsey and retaining the Manhattan Championship. Let them all watch from whatever vantage point they need to watch from because when she steps out on that stage, walks down that ramp, and steps through those ropes, all eyes will be on her. This is my moment. I won’t let anyone get in the way of that.

Sweet and loveable Todrick is still around, but she won’t be making an appearance tonight. Tonight, you will see the Goddess of War in action, and tonight I will embrace my inner wolf for my fallen comrade, Dru. Don’t let this make-up fool you; this bite will match the bark, and there is nothing anyone can do to stop me. But let me go out there and show you.

Todrick snaps her fingers and sashays off the set heading towards the curtain.

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey (c) vs Joe Montuori

FIGHT! NYC Manhattan Championship

The tension between the champion Todrick Tabor Ramsey and the former champion Joe Montuori was palpable as they stepped into the center of the ring together for the first time since the fateful night that Joe had dropped the Manhattan Championship to Todrick. Tabor and Montuori delivered some heavy eye contact to one another before a quick pre-match handshake out of respect, then it was off to the races as they say. Tabor is the first to reach out for a lock up but Joe ducks, slips behind Toddy and kicks her in the back of her knee before strutting around the ring and playing to the fans in attendance as only Joe Montuori could. Toddy gets her feet back under her shaking her head with a smirk as she looks at Joe who slyly winks at her, clearly feeling himself tonight. Tabor rushes Montuori who swiftly sidesteps the attempt sending Tabor into the ring ropes to catch a drop kick to the mid-section on the bounce back. Once more, Joe Montuori is feeling his oats and getting his life as he gets back to his feet to a chorus of boos from some of the fans at ringside. Faintly the Rockstars in attendance begin to chant for Tabor – reminding her how she got here and what it means to stay on top.

You see, this match isn’t just for a championship even though it is, in Toddy’s mind this match was so much more. It was further validation for all those people out there who thought they didn’t have what it takes to succeed in whatever area, it was for people like Todrick who had been counted out before the bell had even rung. Mama was doing this for them and she would not fail them. Not tonight, not ever. Montuori bounces off the ropes as Todrick gains her footing, the former catching a European uppercut from Todrick that sent him reeling back into the ropes. Joe instinctually reaches up to rub his chin but doesn’t even have the time to do so before Tabor grabs his arm whipping him across the ring, sliding between his legs on the return and bouncing up to her feet behind Joe with the agility that has helped to make her a household name. As Joe turns around Tabor is able to get a grip onto his head and whips him back with a snap suplex. Joe is able to roll through and leaps up into the air to drive a knee into Tabor’s side sending Toddy to the other side of the ring where she scrambles up to the middle turnbuckle and leaps off with a diving headbutt, landing squarely on Joe Montuori for a short two count. Both competitors get to their feet with Joe whipping Tabor-Ramsey back into the ropes then hits the ropes himself rushing forward at Toddy on the return and throwing his foot up. Toddy ducks the boot to the face, hits the ropes and springs off the middle into a cross body. However, the veteran Joe Montuori catches his small opponent and slams her into the mat with authority, hooking Toddy’s leg. The count goes to two when suddenly Toddy shifts the move, rolling Joe into a small package and stealing the three count in an upset win that has the crowd in shock.


Todrick celebrates his successful title defense in the ring before his gaze is drawn towards the entrance area as Chris Page effectively gets up out of his seat with his attention firmly on Todrick as she hoists up the Manhattan Championship towards Chris who lightly golf claps for Todrick before turning his back on the Manhattan Champion where he walks back through the entrance area. 

The Last Page

We cut just outside of the tower where Chris Page emerges out from the door with his phone to his ear. 

Chris Page: I’m leaving the tower now, Thad. I’ll be that way shortly to talk some business.

Chris listens to his client, Thaddeus Duke, arguably one of the hottest pieces of talent in the game today. A lionheart, a champion in every sense of the word.

Chris Page: Sounds good brother. 

Chris hangs up his phone before raising his head where he stops in his tracks Camera angles switch to over Chris’s shoulder where he is 20 feet away from his SUV-style limo, only between him and his awaiting limo is…


You can hear the reaction from inside the Tower as Austin and Page stare each other down. Chris smirks as he chuckles under his breath before he sarcastically spouts out. 

Chris Page: Jesus Christ, the other Ramsey.

Austin Ramsey: The night off, as you called me.

Chris slides his cell phone into the back pocket of his jeans as Austin is shown cracking his knuckles. 

Chris Page: We doing this?

Austin Ramsey: Damn right we are.

No fear in Austin’s voice as he continues. 

Austin Ramsey: You show up to FIGHT, disrespect me I can deal with all day every day. Disrespecting Todrick and giving him a cheap shot in the process is something I cannot and will not stand for.

Chris Page: So, instead of doing this in the ring where it matters you thought this was the wisest move to make? Cute. 

Austin starts to walk towards Chris Page who stands in place watching Ramsey get closer as he balls his right fist and swings at Page who stands in place taking the direct shot to the jaw which sends him staggering backward. 

Chris reaches up clutching at his jaw before lowering his hand. 

Chris Page: You even hit like a bitch.

Page’s words enrage Austin as he lunges forward swinging with a wild right hand. Page ducks while cracking him in the ribs with a right before coming across with an elbow strike to the jawline. Austin comes back with a double leg takedown on Page where he moves into a full mount position as he reigns down with right and left hands to Page’s face! 

Several shots land before Page catches an arm transitioning into a Triangle Choke! 

There’s an ovation from inside the Tower as the door opens where Todrick Ramsey emerges out! She runs over stomping down on Page’s head breaking the Triangle Choke before Austin is choked out. She picks Page up hammering away at Chris! 

Todrick boots Page in the midsection before taking him headfirst into the back driver’s side door! 

Page gathers himself as Todrick looking for a Superkick. Page is able to catch the foot where he spins her in a semi-circle so her back faces Page where he shoves her forward towards her fallen Husband. Page swings the door to the limo open before getting in closing the door behind him! 

The SUV limo skids off as Todrick runs out into the streets watching the limo get further and further away in the distance. 

Vincent Black vs Shawn Warstein

Shawn Warstein stands in the ring, his face a somber mask, and his eyes glued to the floor like the quarters in Empire Records. He does not look at the crowd, he does not look at anything but the area just before his own feet. As Vincent Black’s music hits, Shawn looks up and Vincent Black appears. His wrestling gear consisted of a cut up t-shirt and a pair of jeans tucked into a pair of old boots, missing most of their laces. Walking up to Warstein, Vincent utters something, and Warstein responds, the sounds of the crowd drowning out their exchange. But sounds can’t detract from expressions and the ones expressed by Vincent and Shawn are widely recognizable as ‘pure fucking anger.’

No sooner than the two of them walk away, another theme hits, and Sahara barges out of the entrance way. Vincent shakes his head and Warstein slowly shakes his head as if every fiber of his being is purely annoyed as possible simply from the woman’s appearance. She steps into the ring and the second she steps her foot down between the ropes, the music cuts, and the OCCHI system Omni-microphone hones in.

Sahara: I’ve tried to get the NSQ’s attention the best I can, I do not expect to be on it organically. I expect that I should have to work for it. And that’s fine by me. But what is not fine by me, is for the second week in a row, a man who has nothing to gain from being in the main event light, is once again in the main event light. Vincent Black, the owner of this entire thing, practically, has once again placed himself in the spot that should be going to someone who can use it. Someone who can use the trajectory of the fight, to improve their lot in life. By his own confes-

Vincent rushes forward and sends his boot into the face of Sahara, who goes flying to the ground with a thud. The Omni-mic picks up Vincent saying ‘How’s that for trajectory, cunt?’

Shawn Warstein just stands there laughing, and Vincent turns to him prepared to make the joke again. From out of nowhere, Dane Preston and Ricky Rodriguez show up. Dane yells at Vincent and Vincent laughs. Ricky asks Vincent what the fuck his problem is, and Vincent grabs him by the jaw and shoves him into the corner, sending the smaller man airborn.

Sahara gets up and pushes Dane out of the way, placing a stiff kick to Vincent’s temple, staggering the human building. As Sahara attempts to follow up, Shawn Warstein runs toward her and drops her with a running knee strike. Dane Preston waits for Shawn to turn, but finds Vincent Black stepping between them.

Vincent Black: You got no business out here.

Dane Preston: You didn’t have to lay her out, Vin!

Vincent Black: She has interrupted my match for the second time, cardboard. There will not be a fucking third.

Shawn Warstein looks at Dane to see what his reaction is going to be, but Dane just turns to walk away, only to turn around again, and rush Warstein, who ducks the attack and sends Dane into the corner, his arms empty as his intent was full.

Vin and Shawn look at each other, and knowing they still have a match to fight turn their back to each other and begin to clear the ring of everyone else. Shawn grabs Ricky Rod and chucks him over the top rope. Vincent grabs Sahara and tosses her under the bottom rope. Dane Preston tries to rush across the ring, but his leg is planted in its spot. Looking down, he sees that it is being held there by Paul Montouri, who snuck out from the crowd. As soon as Dane begins to question it, a fist collides with Dane’s face, and sends him up and over the top rope, onto the apron, and down on the floor. VIncent Black shakes his fist off, and winks at P Mont, who nods and backs away.

Shawn turns to Vincent, and VIncent turns to Shawn. And as the rest of this fight takes their place at ringside, they begin to circle each other. Just as their about to lock up, “Bleed it out” by Linkin Park begins, and James Raven makes his way down to the ring, out of his ring gear and wearing a very polite looking shallow V-neck shirt and khaki pants. He makes his way up to the announcers booth, and sits down next to Damon Riggs, who is the father of the woman James had beaten earlier.

Snatching the mic from J Michael Brilliance, Raven thanks him profusely and then takes his seat as well.

James Raven: Well, I just couldn’t help but come on down and watch this all unfold live and in person. I tell you, so many special treats tonight for the FIght fan. Not only did they get to see me perform an absolute instructional video against Joe Montouri’s left overs, but now they get to hear someone who doesn’t sound like they have a cheek full of liver do commentary. It’s almost like we’re spoiling them.

Damon HavoK Riggs: You’re lucky I’m a professional, Raven. Unlike what I can say about you.

James Raven: Fun fact, Damon. I value the parking lot cold cuts more than I value your opinion. And considering how I think toothbrushes are at the top of your list of enemies, I’ll wager the smell is better, too.

Damon HavoK Riggs: You’re an animal.

James Raven: Most GOAT’s are, Dreggs.

Vincent Black nods toward Shawn, and Shawn takes the bait. Shawn, one of the few men in this business that Vincent doesn’t tower over, fakes him out with an attempted lock up, but instead goes for a kick to the stomach. Vincent catches it in the stomach as it comes up, but catches it with his hands as his foot starts to lower. Pulling Shawn closer to him, Vincent wraps his arms around him, spins, and throws the man over his head and onto the mat. A move the heavy in his own right Warstein is not used to having had done to him.

James Raven: Hey D-Baggins. You and this Black guy are meilleurs amis, right? How come he just uppercutted your boy into a different time zone?

Damon HavoK Riggs: Dane isn’t me. They both know what this business is. No friends, no family, just fighting.

James Raven: No Games, Just sports. You ever see that movie? What women want? I know what most women want, and that’s to not have to touch Joe Montouri. Save for your daughter and…what’s his girlfriends name again?

Damon Riggs: Vincent Black is backing Shawn into the corner, chopping away at him with his massive hands, leaving him red from the impact.

James Raven: Shawn doesn’t like the color red. Reminds him of being left on read by so many women. I’m sure you understand that.

Vincent grabs Shawn by the neck and begins to push back. The warning lights of the ref booth go off, and Vincent backs off, Polking Shawn in the eye just before he retreats back. Shawn bursts out of the corner and levels Vincent with a punch to the eye that almost knocks him off his feet. Vincent spins toward the corner and then pushes out and goes in another direction, avoiding Shawn who was following close behind.

Damon HavoK Riggs: Let me ask you a question, Jimmy.

James Raven: Calling me an unpreferred name. Tell me, are your underwear originally yours or did you take that from someone else too?

Damon HavoK Riggs: What makes you think your the GOAT? There are guys better than you in every promotion you avoid going to, What makes you think you’re the end all be all?

James Raven: Yeah, I hope all the best people don’t come and find me and try to prove it. That would be a disaster for my career. OOoh look. There’s a fight.

Vincent and Shawn are now on the outside of the apron, and as they tumble back inside the ring, several fights occur at once. The one in the ring, the one at the announcers booth, and one between the people outside of the ring.  Sahara and Ricky and Dane are all yelling at Paul Montouri, who just stands there, watching each of their faces getting redder, and redder. He then moves out of the way quickly, and not one of them catch on as to why.

Inside the ring, Vincent stands just adjacent to the corner. His chest heaving from behind out of breath. Shawn walks toward him and in a flash, Vincent lifts up Shawn, hoists him over his head, and tosses him at the three standing just by the turnbuckle. Shawn lands mostly on Dane and Ricky, as Sahara saw the shadow on the groun and leaped out of the way, showing a presence of mind that made even Vincent Black nod in approval.

The two begin to exchanged words, and while Vincent keeps his eyes on Shawn, he keeps responding to everything that Sahara says with ‘whore.’ Ironic, isn’t it?

James Raven: I tell you, it loses points for originality but sure does get right to the heart of the matter.

Damon HavoK Riggs: I don’t judge women based on who they sleep with. It’s why I don’t look down on Betsy.

James Raven: And with that, my life is complete. 

Vincent slides out of the ring and pulls back to hit Sahara, but Shawn is back on his feet and shoulder charges Vincent in the back of the knee, knocking him down in front of Sahara. Sahara went to kick Vincent, but Shawn caught her heel, and pushed her away from him, disgusted. Sahara rushed Shawn but as she was just about to get to him, Vincent leaped up and speared the incoming woman. Or tried to. She quickly sidestepped him and continued her run toward Shawn, who took a clothesline the second she reached him. Suddenly, the bell sounded. And Both Vincent Black and Shawn Warstein realized that they had just both been counted out. Vincent stood up, looked at Sahara, who was standing over Shawn, and he realized.

They had not been counted out. This bitch just got him disqualified. He was wrong, as if anyone was going to get disqualified over something it would have happened way earlier. Vincent does not think rationally in this moment or most moments, and grabs Sahara by the back of the head, driving her face first into the divider. Sahara bounces off and as she backs away, a lob of bloody spit shoots from her mouth and lands on Vincent’s cheek. Enraged, which is just a small amount of anger more than what he usually operates on, Vincent charges her and grabs her by the throat. Dane and Ricky get to their feet, and as Paul Montouri grabs Ricky, he is slapped in the head, which causes Paul to lose it. At this point, madness begins to take hold, as Ricky and Paul fight in one corner, Shawn Warstein and Dane Preston fight right beside them, and Vincent Black and Sahara begin to try and murder each other with their bare hands.


Paying no mind to this at all, Vincent and Shawn shake off the other combatants and climb back into the ring. Vincent steps over to the referee booth, walking like a man with intent, and simply points at whoever it is inside that booth. As he does this, we hear;


Vincent and Shawn turn to one another, and go back to their business. But Sahara jumps up onto the apron, and Vincent shuffles, Kicking her in the jaw and sending her to the floor. No sooner than his feet are back on the ground, Warstein kicks Vincent in the same knee that he shouldered before, and Vincent falls. Following it up, Shawn attempts his King’s Crown, but as he backs up, he does so into the arms of Paul Montouri, who he holds into place for Vincent. Vincent goes to hit Shawn, but at the last second Shawn moves, and Vincent almost nails Paul. Laying on the ground, Shawn slowly gets up, hoping that he has missed the thud that should have come from Paul being laid out, but stands up to find both men looking at him.

Damon HavoK Riggs: Not a good sign of things to come for Warstein!

James Raven: Things could be worse. He could be related to the clusterfuck of inbreeding that you all come from. How’s Uncle father Brother doing? How’s the goiter? Does it have a face?

Paul Montouri jumps back out of the ring, just in time to see Ricky Rod getting to his feet. Paul looks as if he feels bad about laying him out, and goes to try to make amends, but instead is caught with a right to his jaw. As Paul grabs Ricky…

Vincent grabs Shawn…

Dane picks up Sahara, and helps her to her feet. The two then slide into the ring…

And as Paul drops Ricky with a modified curb stomp….

Vincent pushes Shawn away from him, and catches Sahara by the throat…

As Shawn leaps into the air, and knees Dane in the head as he runs toward him.

With Ricky, Dane and Sahara out for the night, Vincent, Shawn, and Paul just throw their arms up, and leave the ring area in three separate directions. As Vincent reaches the entrance way, he can hear Sahara standing in the ring, yelling at him from the top of her lungs.


Vincent Black: They pay me to hear you, Sahara. They just don’t pay me to give a fuck.

Sahara backs away from the ropes, and looks back at Dane and Ricky, all angrier than most have ever seen them before.


Damon HavoK Riggs: And with that, Venom 12 is in the books!

James Raven: I’ve never been more pro-banning books in my life. At least I can leave your fart cave now. Smells like bubble gut and leg sweat.

As Damon and James continue their argument off the air, The Occhi system zooms in on Sahara, who is enraged like no one has ever seen before.