A Quiet Ship in the Night

Joe Montuori walks into frame with his amore, Mia, caught by the eyes of a weary traveler who kept to the shadows. The two lovers were draped on each other, as they approached the closed door to their room. They tangled themselves in an aggressive public display of affection while both took turns trying to give enough attention to the doorknob. This goes on for what seems to be forever, from the point of view in the shadows.

The door is finally flung open with Mia breaking off from Joe and stepping backwards into the room. They share playful banter as Joe stands in the doorway. A chill takes hold of the back of his neck for a moment. He has been around long enough to know when he is being watched. Joe looks to the left and over his shoulder. He wonders before shaking it off and stepping inside.

Inside the room, Mia is popping a bottle of champagne while Joe is loosening up his business attire. As his tie comes off, Joe notices something that doesn’t belong just laid on the middle of their bed. He steps over, and takes the object into his hand. It was a black business type card that Joe was familiar with. But it’s purpose was cause for pause as he looked at his amore. Mia came to him and looked for herself before the couple were left searching for the meaning. And Joe knew just the person to go and see.

We go back to the weary traveler in the hall, and close out our short scene with his hoodied back to us as he walks away.

Chief Security Officer(s)

Xavier Black stands at the window of his office, looking out at the crowds on the streets below as they pile into the doors, anxious for Venom. Turning, Xavier smiles and pulls the chair by the large oak desk out, and sits down. A smile of sorts easily forms as Xavier leans back, and looks over the people sitting on the other side of the desk.

Xavier Black: Ok. I’ll allow it. But you’ve got to promise me, no more shit like last week. I can’t lock people up again. I mean, I can. I just…don’t want to. So if you’re serious about this, which I know is difficult for one of you, I want your word that you’ll keep the peace. Not just during Venom, either. I don’t want that shit Sahara pulled with the fucking PR interns happening again. 

The OCCHI system spins and we see the people sitting before Xavier Black are none other than his brother, Vincent Black, and his wife, Vhodka Black. Vincent looks at Vhodka, while Vhodka makes a small horse statue on Xavier’s desk dance, and then looks back to his brother.

Vincent Black: You have my word. Never again.

Vhodka Black:…YEAH!

Xavier Black: Alright. I’ll have the documents drawn up, and make some offices available for you. In the meantime, we’re going to need to announce this.

Vincent Black: And by we?

Xavier Black: Yeah, I mean you and I mean tonight. Get to work.

Vincent stands up and Vhodka walks behind him, following closely. She then runs back and puts the small horse statue back on the desk, and runs to catch up with her husband. Miss F, who was standing in the rear of the room steps up to Xavier, and hands over a phone that has already been dialed.

Miss F: You sure about that, X?

Xavier Black: I’m sure about everything I do. Now let’s get the night started.

Miss F: En route.

Miss F charges away from the desk, and exits the office. Xavier sits at his desk, phone held up to the right ear, as a smile stretches across to both. Regardless of what happens from this point on, it will at least be interesting.

I've Got Your Back

The elevator door opened on one of the floors in FIGHT Tower and Enforcer stepped out, he had been thinking about something he did to someone not too long ago, and he wanted to make amends so to speak. He walked down to the locker room that belonged to Ms Anicka Swan. Although she didn’t have a match tonight, she was in the building, she lived within walking distance and she enjoyed the interaction with the fans before and after the show.

He knocked on the door and heard Ani yell come in, but in light of what happened between the two, he thought it was better if she opened the door. After a few moments, the door was snatched open and she stood there dressed in a black spandex outfit that struggled against her curves.

Anicka Swan: Ani said…

She stopped talking to Enforcer’s chest and shifted her eyes upwards towards his face with a less than pleased look on hers. A soft growl came from her throat that caused Enforcer to chuckle softly.

Enforcer: I know, I know. And I don’t blame you for being mad at me.

Anicka crossed her arms over her chest.

Anicka Swan: Ani trusted you. We hung out together, we drank together. Ani ate cool ranch doritos with you!

Enforcer: Like I said, Ani, I’m sorry. That’s all I can say, I should have had your back. When you feel like talking it out, you have my number.

Without another word, Enforcer turned around and made his way back down the hallway; he came to the elevator and pushed the button and stood there waiting for the doors to open. When they finally opened and as he went to step inside– Anicka Swan was on his back like a spider monkey…

Anicka Swan: Ani’s got your back now.

Enforcer tried to shake her off, smashing her up against the elevator buttons as the doors closed and began to go down. Each floor that the elevator stopped at, the doors would open and either one or the other would have the upper hand. Those who stood outside the doors reacted according to their job in Fight NYC; those who worked in the offices would usually scream, they weren’t used to working in buildings where some of the most violent people work and are prone to have full contact squabbles. And others, the wrestlers just stood there and watched, it was just another day at work for them and this wasn’t their squabble as far as they were concerned Enforcer and Anicka were working things out on their own.

The elevator finally came to a stop down in the bare knuckle area in the lower level and when the doors opened, Anicka was thrown out of the car and quickly rolled to her feet and was breathing heavily, crouched down ready to pounce. Enforcer looked at her from where he leaned against the door, keeping it from closing and trying to catch his breath and shook his head. He should have known Anicka wasn’t just going to accept an apology, he stepped into the arena, maybe he should have brought her a blunt?

Let Us Unintroduce Ourselves

Natural Born Killers by Celine Dion and Clay Aiken begins to play, as Vincent Black and Vhokda Marie appear from either side of the entrance way. Walking to the ring, each have a jacket rolled up and tucked under their arms. The crowd chants their names and sings along with their theme, trying to get their attention with outstretched hands and pictures they’d like autographed. Neither do the trick. Climbing into the ring, Vincent and Vhodka stand in the center, and lean against each other. Eyes locked, the OCCHI system zeroes in on their voices, and all other sound is cancelled out.

Vincent Black: You recall when we first started, how we wanted to fight everyone?

Vhodka Black: I recall totally.

Vincent Black: This is a continuation of that.

Vhodka Black: Total Recall 2. More Total Recalling.

Vincent Black: I’m glad you’re with me on this.

Vhodka Black: I’m with you on everything forever. Until I turn on you dramatically during sweeps.

Vincent Black: Many ratings.

Vhodka Black: Much Viewership.

Vincent and Vhodka turn and look out at the crowd, scanning it for confusion, which there is much of. Vincent looks at Vhodka, kisses her on the forehead, and turns back to the audience.

Vincent Black: We quit.

The crowd boos and ‘aww’s’ in shock, giving thumbs down and screaming ‘please don’t go’ over and over.

Vhodka Black: Not like, forever. Well. Maybe not forever. Maybe for like a small forever. Little eternity. Smol Infinitely.

Vincent Black: We tried. We wanted to make this work. But we can’t. We refuse. We have done our part well, and we have rode the thin line that borders between who we are, and who we wanted to be. And we were told, we couldn’t hold titles because of our proximity to the top.

Vhodka Black: And that was fine. We don’t need no stinking titles…

Vincent Black: Now of course, it’s gotten to the point where we can’t even wrestle. Because anything we do to make this a promotion better, from a fighter standpoint, only makes us look worse. It isn’t accepted, nor appreciated, and if we’re going to torture ourselves like a modern day sisyphus, it should at least be a job that needs doing.

Vhodka Black: …i don’t wanna be a sissy puss. Is that like cookie puss? Because me likey the ice cream cake.

Vincent Black: So from this point forward, we will no longer be active members of the Fight Roster. Instead, we will be the active force that polices the Fight Roster, as Vhodka and myself are hereby the Chief Security Officers for FIGHT NYC.


Vincent Black: As of now, what happened last week will not happen again. And anyone who even attempts to ruin the sanctity of a Fighy NYC match will be brought to task.

Vhodka Black: …who’s task? Do I know him?

Vincent Black: It’s a saying.

Vhodka Black: You’re only saying it’s a saying because you just say’ed it.

Vincent Black: …probably. But the point is clear. Fuck around…

Vhodka Black: ….and Find Doubt.

Vincent Black: OUT. Fuck around and find out.

Vhodka Black: Ok. I asked you like 3 times and you said ‘yeah, that’s fine.’ Besides Dane copyrighted the other one. He’s gonna take us to the bad court. The one without the food. 

Vincent kisses Vhodka on the head, and the pair put their Security Jackets on, as the crowd bittersweetly watches from their seats.

Miss Michelle (c) vs Dave the Dinosaur

FIGHT! NYC Bronx Championship

Michelle charges Dave from across the ring, he roars and stomps around causing Michelle to pull up and look on in confusion. Dave swirls around and wags his ass at her then spins and lets out a guttural roar!  Michelle responded with a standing drop kick that forced Dave to stumble backwards into the corner. Michelle leapt to her feet and rushed in driving a knee to his stomach then grabbing for the Dinosaur mask.

Dave flipped Michelle over his shoulder and a series of take downs and whips occurred by both competitors before Dave Missed with a tail thash and Michelle responded with a gut kick and spike DDT. One failed pin attempt and three more hard takedowns later and Michelle was mounting the corner. She stood up to see Dave standing in the middle of the ring before going on his trademark Rampage. For the longest moment Michelle stares in confusion then leaps off for a missile drop kick from the top corner but misses as Dave stomps off to the far corner. 

Michelle gains her feet and charges just as Dave throws his right foot up and catches her square in the jaw, sending her slamming hard down on her back. Dave hops to the middle rope and jumps off stomping down on stomach then stomping off across the ring.  Michelle rolls to the ropes, pulls herself up and lunges at Dave. Another series of take downs and whips follows with Michelle again having the upper hand. This time she whips Dave into the corner and charges in but Dave hits the corner, flips up over it and falls to the apron. Michelle slams chest first into the corner. 

Dave rolls into the ring and Michelle rushes at him and Dave rushes her, Dave throws his chest out just as the two collide and Michelle slams to her back. Dave jumps up and down around her roaring in the middle of the ring. Michelle rolls to her feet and turns around Just as Dave grabs her and begins the PRIMAL RAGE! Both competitors are rolling around the ring going in and out of grapples and finally a three count happens and the bell rings.


Someone of Substance

Miss F’s office door is closed, and as the door clicks closed, the shot widens to capture the person who had just entered the office. Her eyes tell the whole story, one of fury.

Apathy: I don’t know what they make their wrestlers from in XWF, they come here for a week and they wilt and fold.

Excuse me, Mrs. Devereaux. I’m not sure if you know where the majority of New Status Quo came from…

Apathy: Just like that siren, Granger, will. When I’m done with her. Lycana didn’t wanna pay the price, I’ll take it out on her mate.

Miss F: Thing is, Betsy is going to be dealing with another problem next week. One that’s been boiling under.

Apathy: It’s time to start paying me the respect I deserve. I have been in this game, in all the iterations of this company for longer than you, for longer than him.

She gestures to Xavier Black’s framed photo on the wall shaking hands with Miss F.

Apathy: I don’t care if it is next week. I don’t care when. Get me someone who is not going to fold, so I can show them what it is to be in this company.

Miss F: If Themis survives Ophelia tonight, you can give her the real FIGHT! NYC welcome next week.

Apathy: If she shows up.

Fade out.

Have You Seen My Owl?

In the backstage area we see newly signed FIGHT! star Alice Knight getting a huge pop from the crowd inside the arena as she is roaming around backstage. She is speeding and acting franticly as she stops a FIGHT! crew member on a coffee break.

Alice Knight: Have you seen my Owl?

Crew Member: Wh-what? An OWL?

Alice Knight: Yes, yes, my pet Owlie the Owl. She is flying around here somewhere.

Crew Member: Wait, question. Why do you own an owl? And why did you bring it to the arena? That seems very dangerous.

Alice Knight: What are you writing an A&E Autobiography on me or something? Look, I thought it be cool if some of the roster met my pet owl… see, OWLs are my thing. Like James Raven’s thing is RAVEN birds, i think. Tara and Jennie Fenix’s is like a foxes or something. Anicka Swan likely owns a SWAN! Bam Miller is into the miller brewskies. I am certain Chris Page’s is … pages and pages of paper??? Probably rolling papers if you know what I mean.. and… Whatever! Mine so happens to be, Owls…

Crew Member: Then shouldn’t yours be like a Knight costume or something? That make more sense…

Alice Knight: NO! Say it fast. ALICE KNIGHT! Say it 5 times super fast… do it… trust me?

Crew Member: Um, Alice Knight! Alice-Knight! AliceNight! AlusNite! OWL IS NIGHT! Wow… that does make sense.

Alice Knight: See! I also make my own mustard…

Crew Member: Wow, I love girls who love mustard…

Alice now twirling her hair with her finger.

Alice Knight: Really? What’s your sign…?

Suddenly a few screams can be heard down the hallway with the shrieking sounds of a bird. Most likely OWLie the Owl. Both the crew member and Alice rush to find a young female hotdog vender hiding under a table as Owlie flaps her wings scaring off a couple of people who try to hit the bird with broom sticks, pipes and one person visibly with a fly squatter. Trying to hit the owl, Alice jumps in front of the mob waving her hands at them.

Alice Knight: STOP! STOP! DON’T HURT OWLIE! She is just trying to communicate with us, human buns…

The mob looks at Alice confused as Owlie continues to shriek and flap her wings.

Crew Member: Don’t you mean ‘human beings’ or ‘hotdog buns’?

Alice Knight: How about… BOTH! Us human beings need to understand that owls love hotdog buns more than anything. And my pet owl is on a diet of only hotdog buns. She must have flown around to the hotdog stand looking for buns while I was on the toilet…

Janitor With a Broom: Was it number one or number two?

Alice, the mob and even Owlie the owl look at him disgustedly.

Alice Knight: Um… look gang. She means no harm, just hungry. But to calm everyone down and to not get a legal fine… I’ll take her home. No need to hurt her or me. Cool?

The mob and the janitor all walk away from the scene as Owlie flies to Alice’s shoulder. They slowly walk towards the exit as we hear a sales merchant screaming at his stand.

“WHAT’S THIS!!? BIRD SHIT ALL OVER THE FIGHT! NYC! MERCHANDISE!?!? IT FREAKING STINKS!! Every Dave the Dinosaur replica mask is torn to shreds!! The James Raven action figures well endowed penises have been torn right off the doll… and … well the non selling Paul The Biggest Loser’s stuff wasn’t touched. Not a single drop! Even BIRDS won’t touch that stuff… AHHH!! THIS SUCKS!!! CALL THE POLICE!!”

Alice and Owlie look at each other in cartoon fashion and quickly rush towards the exit door as the scene ends.

Sahara vs Aiden Reynolds

Aiden Reynolds waited patiently for Sahara to make their way to the ring, but not one second longer. The instant Sahara’s foot touched the apron, Aiden advanced, hitting her with a misguided by effective elbow. Sahara almost falls off the apron, but regains footing enough to move away from Aiden, who doesn’t follow. Going under the top rope, Sahara shoots toward Aiden, who side steps, pushing the oncoming fighter into the ropes, and landing another elbow shot, this one to the chest. Sahara grasps at the area, and spins around in a 180. She completes the turn and returns to face Aiden and lands a snap headbutt to their chin.

Aiden stumbles back, and immediately recovers and grasps at Sahara, at the same time that Sahara grasps at him. The two jostle to and fro, and Sahara gets the upper hand by slipping a hand out of the hold, and pressing it against Aiden’s chin, pushing upward so Aiden’s head is almost vertical. Aiden lets go of Sahara to escape the move, but it’s for naught as Sahara quickly capitlizes on it, and places a stiff kick to Aiden’s gut. Bent over and clutching the affected area, Aiden is at a loss to stop the next move, which is a lifting knee strike that straightens Aiden up and turns Aiden around, giving Sahara the perfect opportunity to land a stiff neck breaker that even the fans will feel tomorrow. Spinning about, Sahara positions to the left and begins to lay punches into Aiden’s head, getting as far as 6 before Aiden, utilizing both legs, grabs Sahara in a headlock by leglock, and pulls the angry opponent away from him. But only for a second.

Sahara, getting out of Aiden’s legs quickly, drops an elbow drop to the knee of her opponent, aftering standing up for just a second. Holding the position, Sahara grabs Aiden’s ankle and begins to pull his knee the wrong way. Aiden, none too pleased about this, uses the free leg to knee Sahara in the back of the head, until the hold is released, and with that, both fighters are back to their feet.

Sahara moves to try and grasp Aiden by the leg, but Aiden steps away and swipes at Sahara, missing entirely. Words are exchanged as the two competitors circle each other, and as soon as the OCCHI system begins to tune in, they shut up and put up.

Aiden rushes Sahara, grabbing their left arm and ducking under it, folding it behind Sahara’s back. Sahara elbows with the free arm, and gets out of it, running to the nearest bank of ropes and attempting to fly back at Aiden, but is caught in the bread basket by a kitchen sink knee, which sends Sahara over his leg and onto the floor. Aiden, with his knee still in the air, straights the leg out, repositions it over Sahara’s head, and drops into a leg drop, in one fluid and impressive movement. Staying in a sitting position, Aiden uses his leg to cut off the air to Sahara, by pushing down on the neck area. Sahara’s legs kick up and down, and suddenly Sahara has flipped over, their throat no longer under Aiden’s leg. Using their impressively strong arms to keep his leg tight against the back of their neck, Sahara pulls both knees up to their chest, and in a sign of incredible strength, lifts Aiden off the ground and applies fireman’s stretch to Aiden’s leg. Aiden suffers this move for a good few seconds before getting his bearings and grabbing the rope which was in arms distance. Letting go, Sahara drops Aiden onto their head, and the crowd reacts with a wince.

Aiden brings both knees under him, grasping the affected area with both hands. A move that would prove to be foolish. Sahara places a knee on the hands of Aiden, while also placing that leg against his arm, preventing any attempt at blocking the barage of knees now being delivered in a furious pace to Aiden’s head. After several, Sahara backs off, and stops the back of Aiden’s head with a single and sickening blow.

Sahara, bending down to pick Aiden up, is quickly taken down by Aiden’s which causes both legs to give out from under and send Sahara to the ground on their right side. Laying there, Sahara attempts to block Aiden, but seemingly possessed, Aiden grabs a chunk of hair and begins to pummel Sahara, landing left after left to the cheek and temple area. Sahara takes quite a few shots, before Aiden backs off, and decides to lift the dazed opponent to their feet.

Hooking one arm over Aiden’s head, and grabbing a fist full of trunk, Sahara lifts Aiden into the air, and drops him into a ddt that was more face plant than anything else. Aiden rolles over, both hands clutching the chin and nose area, feet stomping the ground in protest of the pain. Sitting up, Sahara smiles, and spins on their ass, putting both feet on Aiden’s sides, and with force, kicking them out of the ring from under the bottom rope, and into the guard rail with a massive thud. Sahara scoots under the bottom rope, and tosses Aiden into the apron area, back first, before grabbing them by the neck and tossing them under the bottom rope.

Sahara stands up on the apron, and watches and waits for Aiden to rise. Slowly, Sahara watches as one foot is placed down, and then the other, and as soon as Aiden is steady, Sahara leap frogs up onto the top rope, shoots forward, and attempts to blast Aiden with a super punch, but is instead caught on Aiden’s shoulder, and with a quick twist, Sahara is dropped into Aiden’s TKO dubbed The Gold Coast Cutter. Turning Sahara over, Aiden lays all of his weight across Sahara’s shoulders, and despite Sahara’s ability to get her legs up, is awarded the victory for her too little too late kick out.


Arrest that man

We open up just outside the FIGHT Tower where we find Chris Page who is surrounded by four N.Y.P.D. officers damn near in the same location that saw Austin Ramsey try his hand before Todrick was there to make a save. We now join the conversation in progress as one of the officers is seen finishing up some sort of statement. 

CHRIS PAGE: I suppose it’s a great thing that I have it all on video, officer.

Chris, still in his street clothes, reaches into the back pocket of his jeans retrieving his cell phone. He opens the screen, locates what he is looking for, hits play, and hands the phone over to the lead officer.

CHRIS PAGE: As you can see by the incident in question I’m speaking the truth. If a picture is worth a thousand words then a video is worth a million.

The Police officers surround the lead officer watching the video play to its conclusion which is just a few minutes. The lead officer hands the phone back to Chris.

CHRIS PAGE: That my friend is the definition of assault, and I’m within my rights to press charges.

The lead officer looks at his fellow officers as he agrees.

OFFICER: Alright, let’s go get him.

The lead officer turns his attention back towards Chris Page. 

OFFICER: Where would we find them inside?

CHRIS PAGE: Oh I’m sure you’ll find them.

Chris opens the back door to the Tower allowing the Police Officers access.

Paul Montuori vs Ricky Rodriguez

The arena was eerily quiet as Ricky Rodriguez stood center of the ring, bouncing from foot to foot in preparation of the coming match with Paul Montuori. This match was somewhat unique in that both competitors seemed to be going through a period of professional rebirth. For Rodriguez, his rebirth was mostly just some of his shiny newness being worn off as the harsh realities of his business began to set in. For Paul, his rebirth was a thing of pain and what might be remade after it was all said and done might not be for the better.

The music that the fans expected to play as Paul Montuori walked to the ring never began, at request of Paul who didn’t much feel in the mood for Weezy F lately. Instead, Paul chose to walk calmly to the ring in silence, with the screens behind him blank and the lights steadily blazing as if nothing was happening at all. He was still the picture of calm as he slid under the ring and came face to face with Rodriguez as the fans around them made their allegiances to the two men known. For those of you who don’t know Paul, this probably isn’t much of a big deal to you. But for those that did know him they could tell that Paul Montuori was anything but calm at this very moment, despite what his outward appearance might have been trying to portray. On the contrary, Paul was seething with rage finely contained just under the surface of his skin. He was sick with it and it seeped out of his pores just looking for release. Rodriguez stared steadily at Paul rapidly speaking to the other man though OCCHI cannot quite pick up what he’s saying, while Paul looks off into the distance at the crowd and a rather nondescript unimportant sign with a symbol partially obscured by another sign catching his eye. Rage is a funny thing in that when you are trying to control it you’ll take whatever distraction you can find if it only allows the anger to continue bubbling underneath the surface and not spilling over everything around you. Maybe if Paul could have focused on that sign for only a moment more things would have gone differently but instead, Rodriguez felt slighted by Paul’s lack of attention and connected to the other man’s jaw with a hard right hook.

That was all it took. Paul became something other than himself and all that finely controlled rage began to spill out over Ricky Rodriguez with his new outlook. Paul mounted Rodriguez, forgetting entirely that they were professional wrestlers instead he simply wailed on the other man with closed fists until Rodriguez blossomed rose red and Paul’s fists matched. The attempts at stopping Paul were futile, instead he rolled off the other man and under the ring where he procured a baseball bat that seemed for all intents and purposes to have Ricky’s name written all over it. After the first strike the bell rang to signal a disqualification but Paul didn’t seem to hear it as he was well past hearing at this point.

It wasn’t until the hand of new Chief of Security Vincent Black wrapped around the bat that Paul hesitated. Not because of who it was but only because his bat had stopped connecting with the flesh of Rodriguez bloodied body below him. Paul whirled on Vincent in absolute fury as the other man looked at him calmly and Vhodka Black stepped between them, taking Paul’s face in her hands and trying to force him to focus on her. For a moment it seems like maybe Vhodka’s quiet whispers are getting through to the Paul that still resides somewhere in this pulsating anger meat vehicle but that quickly fades away as Paul releases the bat and steps away from The Blacks as if they weren’t there at all, turning back and falling back down onto the battered body of Rodriguez to continue his assault with his bare hands until the assembled security pulls him off and drags him away.


Don't Lose Sight Of The Primary Goal

Austin Ramsey is getting dressed for his match later that night. Todrick was occupied with her make-up for the evening, which was fine for him because he was deep in his thoughts.

“I gotta get this train back on the right track. I’m letting Chris Page distract me from my ultimate goal. Besides, that is Toddy’s fight, not mine. I just can’t sit back and watch anyone put their hands on her outside of a sanctioned match. But it is Toddy that keeps saying let her do this herself. I need to focus, and tonight Dave isn’t the only dinosaur that is getting punched in the mouth.”

Austin sits down on the couch and begins pulling his wrestling boots on.

“Enough about him. Can we please figure out who this Henry dude is? Why was he coming for me while I was live-tweeting the fans of #theLIFENY during the reunion? I understand that he is Dru’s father, but was he insinuating that he would defend the Bareknuckle Championship? I mean, FIGHT has pulled a lot of shenanigans when it comes to me, but how in the hell can this stand?”

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: Austin, who are you talking to?

Austin snaps out of his haze and gives Todrick a bewildered look.

Austin Ramsey: Huh? What are you talking about?

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: You are over there talking to yourself, I presume. Penny, for your thoughts?

Austin stands up and walks over to the long mirror. Todrick gets up and begins rubbing oil on him.

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: You seem agitated; I saw that you were going back and forth with Chris again. I also saw you and Henry with that semi-awkward exchange on Twitter. What was that about?

Austin Ramsey: How should I know? The dude comes outta nowhere talking about tough luck, kid. It’s like he was offended that I still wanted to go after the Bareknuckle Championship or something. I mean, I get it, Dru just passed, but the title can’t go vacated forever. Then he is all, if you want my kids title, you gotta deal with me. Like WTF? I don’t recall you earning the title, and how does that even work that he gets to defend it?

It was disrespectful the way he called me kid. Imma fucking grown man, and I didn’t appreciate it at all. If he wasn’t Dru’s dad, I think I would’ve taken it there. Outta respect for her legacy, I kept it short and wasn’t a prick about it. There won’t be a next time with that level of restraint. I don’t want people just to assume I have this thing about older people wrestling. I don’t care what age, sex, religion, creed, race, sexual orientation, you know all the EEO shit we must follow.

If, for whatever reason, FIGHT decides I have to fight him for the title, so be it. I hope that he is ready for the fight of his life because I’m letting the new guy take this fight. It ain’t a job for The Phoenix. He will get his shine later tonight. There will be pain; there will be blood and a lot of it. I just need to focus on my ultimate goal again.

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: Well, if that’s what you want to focus on, I support you 100%. I also think you have a solitary goal that will do wonders for the struggles you are going through. Give all the #Austins one common goal. You got this, Baby. Now let’s go show Chris Page that he fucked with the wrong family.

The two lock hands and share a kiss as they head out of the Manhattan Suite towards the elevator, and the scene fades to black.


We catch up with the Manhattan Champion Todrick Tabor-Ramsey with her title over her left shoulder while clutching the right hand of Austin Ramsey as they’re headed towards the ring. 

AUSTIN RAMSEY: I can’t wait to punch Chris in the mouth. This ends tonight, and that old fuck won’t stick around long after I’m done with him. The “other” Ramsey is ten times what he is!

The Ramsey’s are stopped in their tracks as they come across four NYPD Police officers. 

OFFICER: Todrick Tabor-Ramsey?

Austin tenses up and reluctantly Toddy responds.


Upon the admission of Todrick two officers immediately step in, yanking his hand from Austin’s. One officer backs Austin away from Todrick while the lead officer states.

OFFICER: Todrick Tabor-Ramsey, you’re being placed under arrest for assault last week on one Chris Page. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the courts. Do you understand these rights as they’ve been read?


Todrick answers. 


The handcuffs hit her wrists as the clicking of them tightening around her wrists is heard. One officer takes Todrick off while the other three tend to an irate Austin as he paces back and forth. One of the officers hands Austin the Manhattan Championship before they leave him in a state of rage.

AUSTIN RAMSEY: Hold on baby, I’m coming for you! 

All of Austin’s personalities are enraged and he is having a hard time focusing on what to do next. He begins spiraling out of control and security rushes up to him. They pause because his usual green eyes are completely black and empty. He assumes a fighting stance ready to bash the first thing that moves with the Manhattan Championship belt in his hands. Everyone looks uneasy and the head of security tries to de-escalate the situation by holding his hands up and telling his security guards to do the same. Austin doesn’t trust it but begins to slowly lower his guard as well.

AUSTIN RAMSEY: Fuck are we doing here.

SECURITY GUARD: Let’s just be calm Austin. Let’s not do something we will regret later.

AUSTIN RAMSEY: We are way past that, Scooter. Did you just see that they took wifey outta here in fucking handcuffs? All behind that bitch made Chris Page. Time to unleash that #Austin that no one likes. Let me pass.

Security clears a path and Austin’s demeanor and even his walk changes. His face has a sinister smirk as he continues down the hall.

We cut to ringside at the Tower.

Austin Ramsey vs Chris Page

Austin Ramsey is still reeling over the arrest of Todrick Tabor-Ramsey earlier this evening as he gazes across the ring at the man responsible for the charges being filed. Chris waves at Austin before blowing him a kiss. The bell sounds and immediately Austin charges towards Page who evades out to the floor drawing boos from the crowd. Austin slides out giving chase around the ring until Page dives back into the ring taking advantage of Austin upon his re-entry to the squared circle. Chris uses various strikes and suplexes to dominate the early goings before Austin is able to gain control with a DDT on Page. Ramsey follows up with a picture-perfect step up Shining Wizard which garnered a near fall. Ramsey went directly into a ground and pound style as his rage exuded from his pores while in a full mount hammering down with right hands! Page, much like last week counters with a Triangle Choke to Ramsey, only unlike previous Ramsey manages to hoist Page up in the air and deliver a sit-out powerbomb! Ramsey follows up with sheer athleticism with a standing moonsault for another near fall. 

Ramsey drove Page back into a corner before flinging him across the ring, he charged in after him running into a reverse elbow rocking him backward before being sent crashing into the buckles with an overhead release belly-to-belly suplex. A cocky Page paintbrush slaps a downed Austin Ramsey across the face while talking him through each one out of complete disrespect. Page continues his offense with a series of Rolling German Suplexes before delivering a third with a bridge putting Ramsey’s shoulders to the mat for a near fall. 

Page continued to press forward as he set up Austin for the Page Plant! Austin countered with a back body drop where he followed up with a Spinning Savate Kick taking Page down! Austin picked him up where he effectively delivered the Buckled Up Capture Suplex! The Tower is rocking for Austin as he made his way to the top rope. He’s got his eyes set on AIR AUSTIN only to see Page roll out of the way sending Ramsey crashing and burning into the mat. Page seizes the moment with a Judas Effect elbow strike as Austin got up that dropped him to one knee and allowed for Page to put him away with the Page Plant to secure the victory. 

Chris wasn’t finished with Austin as his onslaught continued post match with a steel chair. He began waffling Austin’s body repeatedly while on the mat. The crowd gathered in the Tower is livid as the assault continues from Page before he takes the chair and places Austin’s head and neck in it. Chris backs up towards the nearest set of buckles where he climbs up on the middle ropes…


The Tower is taken completely by shock as Centurion’s music hits, which takes Page’s attention from Austin towards the entry area. He hops off the middle turnbuckle looking for his rival only to find Centurion coming from the opposite side of the Tower! He hits the ring spinning Page around unloading with a series of right hands of CCP! Centurion sets Page up for the 1,000 Mile Slam! Page slides down the back of Centurion before quickly escaping out to the floor! Centurion eyes Page down before turning his attention towards the fallen Austin Ramsey. He removes the chair from his neck while not taking his eyes off Chris Page who backsteps away pointing at Centurion and then flipping him off. The crowd sings along with “Wild Thing” as we see Chris Page and Centurions focus on each other gains intensity. Chris starts to walk back towards the ring as Centurion is shown helping Austin Ramsey back up to his feet. Page reaches ringside climbing back up on the apron showing no fear. Austin lunges towards Page who drops back down to the floor with a smile on his face, shaking his head as if saying “not the time” as we cut away.


all . fall . down

be . LIE . ve

Would you like to see me turned inside out? Without a doubt, it’ll be a blood bath that is sure to last. I’ve seen enough of you to know that you’re just a coward hiding behind the philosophy of disease. Your belief that strength in numbers is nothing but the chains that bind you to the ever spinning wheel of fortune. But we will watch you suffer. We will watch you try and escape. From this fate, a date you dare not waste.

Just a little taste.

I’ve heard enough of you, now it is time to shut the fuck up. The invitation is sealed and delivered to your doorstep. The threats drive you mad, “I DEFEATED THIS FOOL!” You scream to the heavens, but little one.. you can not kill that which you did not create. Now a true monster salivates at the thought of mangling your life filled body till there is nothing left.

Ashes to ashes..

Dust to Dust..

In Shawn Warstein We Rust.

My insides churn to the tick tock of a dead man’s clock. Circling down the drain of my nihilistic brain are the games and schemes to deliver revelations intended for our dance of two. A quiet place for sentiment to die and the lonely beggar to cry. And cry you will, maggot. Cry you will. For I am the conquered crawling from the grave for one last swing. For one more battle. My trail of blood will tell you the story I have left behind, and the blood pouring from your open skull tells the story of the future.

My Ascension.

Your damnation.

NSQ’s extinction.

Ophelia Pain-Pinkston (c) vs Atara Themis

FIGHT! NYC Brooklyn Championship

The Goddess, Atara Themis, stood in the ring.

The last dins of “Blue Monday” echo through the arena, as the crowd wait in anticipation for the FIGHT! NYC Brooklyn Champion to appear.

There was a buzz and hum going around the audience, as they waited with anticipation at the outcome of this match. The rumor mill had been in full swing, about something Ophelia Pain-Pinkston had said on Twitter, or rather, something someone had posted on Twitter and she had ominously not denied.

So, what was going to happen?

“Demons are a Girl’s Best Friend” by POWERwolf licked through the public address system and New York thought it had its’ answer. The lights went down low, spotlight on the entranceway, and after a brief moment of anticipation, the champion’s shadow appears in the light.

The crowd starts cheering, she raises the belt high into the air, but something looks off. Different. Unsettled.

Perhaps the rumors were to be believed.

As she swung her hips through her stride, she climbed the steps into the ring and didn’t break her gaze with Aphrodite Incarnate for even a second.

Occhi focused in on the pair of them, as they came face to face. At first it sounded like we were going to hear their conversation, but then a light ruffling sound and then silence. And quickly after that, piped-in crowd noise.

Ophelia was doing most of the speaking. Atara was shaking her head at first, and then nodded, and then stepped back, their foreheads separating.

Ophelia Pain-Pinkston held the FIGHT! NYC Brooklyn Championship out, and then placed it on the canvas at Atara’s feet. Gasps went up, flashbulbs smashed through the darkness in the arena, and her music stopped. She slid out of the ring, and walked away. Not looking back.


Legendary Advice

We catch up with Centurion and Austin Ramsey as they’re leaving the Tower in a hurry, Austin frantic to get Todorick Tabor-Ramsey bailed out of jail and back in his presence.

CENTURION: Slow down Austin!

It’s as if Austin has tunnel vision on his car and has the rest of the world tuned out as we see Centurion come up from behind placing his right hand on his left shoulder which causes Austin to spin around swinging at Centurion who blocks with the reflexes of a cat! 

CENTURION: Calm the fuck down! This is EXACTLY what he wants! 

AUSTIN RAMSEY: HOW! How do you know what he wants?!?! He’s had my husband arrested!

CENTURION: While using it to get in your head! Chris Page didn’t beat you tonight, you beat yourself!

Centurion releases Austin, yet is ready to go defensive should Austin swing at him again. 

CENTURION: My name is Centurion… I happen to know an awful lot about Chris Page. I’ve sat back and watched over the last several weeks, I’ve witnessed both you and Todrick Tabor-Ramsey fall into his hands. 

Austin starts to calm down, slowly as Centurion continues. 

CENTURION: I promise you I’m the last guy he wanted to see tonight. The way I see it; let’s go bail out your husband, and the three of us have a conversation. If you want to beat Page, beat him at his own game.

AUSTIN RAMSEY: Toddy first. Then we talk. If you really got his number then this is a valuable conversation to have indeed. Also, thanks for saving me tonight.

Austin slows his breathing like Toddy has taught him to do. He extends his hand and shakes Centurion’s hand before they get into the car and head towards the police station.

Nasty Habit

Dressed to the nines with his back to the cameras, Dane Preston is sitting at the bar in FIGHT! Tower, a glass and a bottle of whiskey on the bar in front of him.  His eyes focused straight ahead, not looking into the camera.

Dane Preston: I’ve been riding the bench since Venom at Sea.  A lot has happened, the tragic loss of Druscilla White, Sahara going to the dark side and tossing Dave the Dinosaur overboard, to Dickie Watson big timing Jennie Fenix by having Shawn Warstein fill in for him tonight.

Grabbing the neck of the bottle, Dane spins the cap off with his thumb as he slides the glass over with his free hand.  The amber liquor flows into the glass, glowing from the twinkle of the lights in the distance.  Nearly filling the glass, Dane tilts the bottle back and sets it down.  

Dane Preston: I’ve been chomping at the bit to climb back into the ring.  After sending JMont spiraling out of control, settling a small personal beef with Austin Ramsey, it’s high time I step up to the plate and stake my claim as the Top of the Food Chain in FIGHT! NYC.

Glancing up at the screens behind the bar, Dane sees the action in the ring and begins to shake his head in disgust.  Lifting his glass, Dane leans back and pours the whiskey down his throat.  Shaking his head and sucking in a breath, Dane pours himself another glass, still not looking into the camera.

Dane Preston: As I’m sure many of you have heard that I’m going after the Empire Championship, please allow me to put the rumors to bed.  Yes, it’s true that I’ve cashed in my Blood Money to challenge Dickie Watson for the title.  I find myself conflicted, as I don’t have a personal beef with Dickie, if I’m being honest I like the dude and respect how dominant he and his crew have been.

Reaching over the counter, Dane grabs a second glass and a napkin.  Slipping his hand into his pocket, Dane pulls out a pen, quickly jotting something down on the napkin.  Setting the second glass down on the napkin, Dane pours the whiskey into it.

Dane Preston: But respect only goes so far when you and your friends walked into my home, kicked your feet up on the table, acting like you all own the place.  Well, it’s high time someone takes back their home.  That someone is going to be me, the one guy to hand Dickie a loss.  Call it a fluke, call it getting lucky.  Dismiss it however you choose to, my name is listed in the Winner’s column in the record books.  Who better to challenge the Champ for his strap than me?

Taking up the glass, Dane leans his head back, quickly downing the drink and setting the glass back down a bit more forcefully.  For the first time Dane looks up and stares into the mirror straight ahead, pouring himself another glass.

Dane Preston: Dickie, you and your clique came in like a fucking whirlwind, taking this company by storm.  You did what my family and friends used to do everywhere they went.  But I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sit back and watch from the sidelines while you stand in the spot I’ve busted my ass carving out for myself.  So let’s make it official, Dickie, I’m calling you out, I’ve already put my Blood Money on the line.  Me and you, for the Empire Championship.  I gotta warn you, I’m no Paul Montuori, I have a nasty habit of finishing what I’ve started.

Downing the glass for a third and final time, Dane flips the glass over and forcefully sets it on the bar upside down.  Dane stood up and walked away from the bar, as the cameras slowly zoomed in on the full glass of whiskey, a message written on the napkin can clearly be seen through the liquid.


Shawn Warstein vs Jennie Fenix

Jennie Fenix is a very likeable person. She’s kind and sweet and has never met a stranger, though we do worry about her willingness to befriend literally anyone given the dregs of this business. As wrestlers go, Jennie Fenix is about as unproblematic as you can get. She shows up, works hard and does her best every time she steps out in that ring. This would take her far in this business because, after all, who wants to be known as the guy who kicked the puppy?

Under normal circumstances, Shawn Warstein probably enjoys adorable little puppy dogs with their floppy ears and big doe eyes. Surely, he’s apt to give them a scratch behind the ear or maybe a rub on the belly as he passes by, after all, Shawn isn’t really a bad guy all in all. Usually.

But tonight? Tonight, Shawn could be at best described as “in a mood”. There was no scratch behind the ears for sweet likeable Jennie Fenix though the diminutive woman had done her best in her attempts to hold her own against a version of Warstein not many would be brave enough to face down one on one. Let it never be said that Fenix lacked tenacity, no, she had that in spades as she launched attack early in the match hoping to catch Warstein by surprise. But Warstein was looking not at Fenix, not really, instead he was looking to make an example – the person who would feel the brunt of this could have been anyone at all. But tonight, it was Fenix.

Fenix surprised even Warstein himself with her unwillingness to go quietly and while usually Shawn would have respected this and perhaps even had found a little to be proud of in Jennie tonight her unwillingness to quit just seemed to irritate him to his very soul. Jennie Fenix knew that the mountain was hers to climb so to speak, she knew that likely most people had seen her name on the card across from Warstein’s after the last-minute change and written her off. But that didn’t matter to Jennie Fenix because she was born of a family that had made their name proving people wrong and she looked at her first main event match in FIGHT as no different. Sure, Shawn was a tall order. Yeah, maybe he was looking to throw his weight around and prove some sort of machismo point to unnamed forces that might be watching this match. But she would make him earn every ounce of it through his fists, through his sweat, through it all. They could stack the deck; they could count her out but what they couldn’t do was say that she had not gone out and given it her all and left everything she could in the ring. There were a great deal of lesser competitors who would have just laid down and taken the beating that Shawn was dishing out if only to get it over and done with. Jennie would not be one of those people.

And while her efforts were well intentioned and valiant at the twenty-minute mark it was very obvious that she was beginning to run out of steam and Shawn was only growing angrier every minute more the match dragged on. His face held a certain tension to it, hard to say what it was but even the set of his jaw clinching together made one think that he wasn’t really seeing Jennie Fenix as he rammed the toe of his boot into her side. Could he be seeing Vincent Black? Or Sahara? Or any one of the other people he felt he had given a legitimacy to by paying them the scraps of attention he had. Or was he seeing something else entirely as he drug Fenix up from the mat by her hair, striking her chest with open handed chops that seemed to only thud louder with each subsequent strike. Whether it was the island of irrelevant misfit toys or perhaps someone more friendly than that in Shawn Warstein’s mind the outcome was the same; Jennie Fenix on the receiving end of a Kings Crown and Shawn Warstein’s mood unimproved.

He stood defiantly over his valiant foe, glaring at her and seeing anyone but her. He was sending a message, to everyone. But to someone in particular.

New York cheered for the match, and he didn’t react to them. He just let the victory wash over him as the FIGHT! NYC Logo faded in, and the arena faded out.