Cupcake Wars

Cutting across 57th Street, Vhodka Marie Black and daughter Ripley made their way down the bustling sidewalk to the Classic Cake cake shop.  Vhodka pulled the front doors open and no sooner than she got it open, she heard her daughter’s name called and she took off inside leaving her mom there holding the door.

Inside the shop, VooDoo’s head snapped in the direction she heard the sound of her childrens’ feet running and turned around to find her three children with their half-sister standing halfway between her and Vhodka Marie; both women looked at each other and smiled pleasantly for the children, it was the only time they were on their best behavior.  The four children and Vhodka soon joined VooDoo over at the self-serve cupcake case filled with 100s of cupcakes in different flavors; the children all lined up in a row in between the women.

VooDoo: Vhodka.

Vhodka Marie: Voo.  She looked at the kids and then shifted her eyes back to Voo.  Light one kid, did you finally feed?

VooDoo: Marie wasn’t feeling good so she and Roger stayed back at the apartment.  She shifted her eyes to Vhodka.  I think we know who I’d eat first if I ever need to.  

Everyone grabbed the cupcakes they wanted and the kids picked the closest table right in front of the cupcakes that had 6 chairs, so it was only a quick trip to get another one.  As the Matriaches went to sit down, they moved their chairs to the end of the table, so they could keep an eye on one another.

Everything was going fine for about 20 mins and VooDoo was looking down at her cupcake and a lime green gummy bear landed on her chest and stuck there via the icing that once held it on the cupcake.  All four kids burst out laughing as VooDoo slowly looked up to find Vhodka at the other end of the table smiling.

Vhodka Marie: Sorry, I tossed it in the air to catch it in my mouth.  My aim was off.

VooDoo: Wouldn’t be the first time.  Instantly both women thought back on Blood Money where Vhodka had stabbed her in the leg.

The kids went back to talking, Vhodka was finishing up her cupcake and trying to decide which one to eat next, when she was caught on the left cheek with a chunk of red icing.  She looked up to find VooDoo smiling.

VooDoo: Sorry, my aim was off.  If only your breasts had been bigger..

The kids, seeing that their mothers were throwing cupcakes, began to follow suit, and pretty soon the six of them were wearing the dozen cupcakes that had been sitting on the table with the kids laughing and both women staring at each other with smiles.  They both looked slowly over to the display case full of cupcakes then at each other before they looked over at the table on the other side of them.

VooDoo: Children, why don’t you go get us some napkins?

All the kids got up and did as VooDoo had said and once they were safely out of the way, both women moved at once, they were kicking chairs aside and flipping tables on their sides and lining them up facing each other.  They both yanked open the display case doors and grabbed trays of cupcakes and tossed them behind the overturned tables.  Everyone in the shop was shocked and scrambling to get away from the crazed women while the four kids ran back to them.  Vhodka called her daughter over and they took cover behind one table, while VooDoo and her kids took cover behind the other. Staff at this point had no idea what to do.

Vhodka Marie: Shame it came down to this, Voo.  She whispered on the count of three to Ripley as they loaded both hands up with cupcakes.

VooDoo: Only one of us is going to make it out alive.  She whispered the same to her three.  One…

Vhodka Marie: Two… Whispering to Ripley.

VooDoo: Three… 

Both sides stood up and launched cupcakes at one another, reaching down to grab more before Callan yelled, hold fire and stood up; everyone else also stood up.

Callan: Teams are uneven.

VooDoo and Vhodka assessed the situation, despite their dislike for one another, their children were siblings; Vincent wants HIS children to know and love one another.

VooDoo: You’re right.  Go get on their side.  Call runs over to where Vhodka and Ripley were, Rose launching a cupcake after him hitting him in his back while Ciara called him a traitor.  That’s still your brother, Ciara.

Vhodka Marie: Not today!  Truce having been broken when Rose hit Call in the back with a cupcake, Team VM launched cupcakes in the direction of Team Voo.

Thirty minutes later, one of FIGHT security posted outside of the lobby entrance looked across the street and blinked a couple of times to make sure he was seeing what he saw before he tapped his ear piece.

Door Security: We’ve got a code M.. He paused for a moment. …C4 about to head into the lobby.

Security Command: What’s a code MC4?

Door Security: Matriarchs with 4 children in tow.

Upstairs in the bar, Vincent Black is sitting on one of the stools as a security member walked over to him and let him know what he had just heard over the live mic.  Vincent looked at him to see if he was joking and then sighed when the look on the guy’s face told him he was not, those women were going to be the death of him.  Vincent got up from where he sat and made his way down to the lobby.

When the women hit the lobby all covered in the remains of cupcakes and icing, they walked with their heads held up high as if they were walking the red carpets at fashion week, behind them the children were talking about the highlights of the Great Cupcake War they had just been through. When Vincent stepped off the elevator and saw them he stopped and crossed his arms over his chest and looked back and forth between the two as they made their way over to him.

VooDoo: He looks mad.

Vhodka Marie: Maybe even mad-mad.

Vincent Black: Really?  He began as soon as they were close enough to him.  You two involved the kids?

VooDoo: In our defense, we made sure that both sides were even.

Vhodka Marie: Mhm, and we bought you a cupcake.  Vhodka held up a paper bag with the store’s name on it.

Vincent opened his mouth but before he could scold the mothers of his children, he was swamped by the kids as all four of them started talking at once, telling them about the awesome time they had and how funny it was when everyone ran out of the store.  The two women see this as the perfect time to slip away while the kids bring Vincent back down to DefCon 5.  As the two women got on separate elevators they looked at each other and smiled… Wait until he gets the bill.


Lights flash, the high-angle shot of FIGHT Tower focuses in through a window and down towards the arena, where we get a view of the capacity crowd waiting in anticipation. The lights are dimmed, low hue green lights dance around the crowd and the ringside area.

Damon Riggs, back in his role as color commentator, stands alongside the strangely dressed J Michael Brilliance, who shrugs his shoulders together, trying to appear at least vaguely reasonably sized. Which was made all the more difficult by the monstrous Riggs man stood to his side.

They welcomed us to the show, making note of the forthcoming matches of high magnitude – FIGHT! NYC Empire Champion Dickie Watson and FIGHT! NYC Brooklyn Champion Amari Kent would cross paths with two members of Dynasty – the number one contender to the Empire Championship, Paul Montuori, and the man who would challenge Amari Kent for his Brooklyn Championship at Tag Wars: Toxic Tag — Ricky Rodriguez.

Oh, is that a spoiler? Sorry Miss F. Damon didn’t mean it.

But actually he did.

The pair of them quickly ran down the rest of the card, marking the notable tag team match where Dane Preston would be on opposite sides of the ring to his wife, in an attempt to gain the FIGHT! NYC Islands Championship but mostly just put an end to the alliance that is driving a wedge in his marriage. Although that might no longer be necessary.

As they got to the bottom of the card, Damon Riggs mentioned that he was interested in the next match because he’d heard about the Father Thyme, and at that point, J Michael Brilliance let slip another spoiler that the winner of his match would be entered into a ladder match at FIGHT’s Inaugural pay-per-view event, TAG WARS: TOXIC TAG to determine the very first FIGHT! NYC Bronx Champion. They also mentioned that a new signing to the promotion would also make his debut in that match, and that guy’s name is Bam Miller.

As they signed off with a tip of the proverbial hat, the familiar theme music of the show began to rise in the audio mix, and the logo appeared.








Jason Ryan vs Father Thyme

This match was not even competitive in the slightest. Jason Ryan was made a fool of by Father Thyme who made quick work of him, running the gamut of his most spectacular maneuvers including EXORCISM, a crucifix powerbomb, and after that he crossed the body of Jason Ryan, and finally, the Father climbed the turnbuckle, pointed to the heavens and dropped an elbow directly and perfectly in the center of the chest of Jason Ryan. The Lord’s Prayer. Easy work.

He looked out at the audience, smiled, and opened his arms out wide..

Ryan Elias vs Korrupt

Korrupt waits in the ring as Ryan’s music blasts through the PA system, but no one comes out. The music finally comes to a stop and the fans begin to get quiet, everyone looking around trying to figure out what is happening. Again Ryan’s music plays and again he doesn’t show up, now Korrupt begins to laugh in the middle of the ring as the fans grow completely quiet.  The video screen flashes to the back as FIGHT officials push open the door to Ryan’s room to find a man laying face down on the ground. Immediately the feed cuts out.


JMB: Who the hell took Ryan out? That looked really bad.

DAMON RIGGS: I don’t know, but the way Korrupt laughed I can almost guarantee you that he knows something! I just hope Ryan is going to be okay!


Back in the Fight tower, Michelle is seen walking down the hallway with a hot chai tea in one hand and a sugar cookie in the other. She rounds the corner, running into Brandon and Poptart as she does. 

Michelle: Where the hell did you guys disappear off to? Its time for Poptart to go out and kick Kaseys ass..

Brandon: Sorry baby girl, I was trying to teach him to shoot so he could easily take her down and tap her out. where have you been?

She glanced down at the tea and cookie in her hands then back up at him. 

Michelle: I wandered over to the coffee stand and got some tea and a cookie.. want some?

Brandon gives her a sly grin.

Brandon: I wouldn’t mind eating your cookie baby. But first..

He looks at Poptart.

Poptart: Yeah man, I know. I know. I will bring great shame down on myself if I lose again. But both of you act like this is what I do. When what I do is just go out wherever and kick some ass.

Brandon: Then do exactly that. Go out there, kick names, and take all the ass you want brother.

She raised an eyebrow..

Michelle: Thats totally not what he said. She turned back to Poptart. I don’t care what you do out there, as long as you’re the last person standin.

Brandon puts his arm around his best friend.

Brandon: And who’s to say that after you whoop that bitches ass that Michelle’s sexy lil bestie Sahara won’t show you gratitude on her behalf? You could be the real man to get that dummies eyes off shit brick Dane? Yeah?

Michelle nods agreeingly.

Michelle: Pretty sure all you’d need is a bottle of vodka to get in her pants. But, seriously don’t even think about any of that until afterwards. I don’t want you thinking about anything except winning while you’re out there so..

Brandon: Just use the force Poptart. Let it guide you n shit. And hit this blunt a few times, calm them nerves.

Michelle: You can hit that blunt later, don’t need you all fucked up out there. Now let’s go.

She leaned over and gave Brandon a peck on his lips before walking off towards the curtain with Poptart. As they reached the curtain, she stopped and looked at him. 

Michelle: You ready?

He adjusted the mask on his face and nodded his head. 

Poptart: I’m always ready.

The two of them bump knuckles before he reaches out and parts the curtains. 

Kasey Winterborn vs Poptart

Miss Michelle watched on from her monitor in her locker room, over the shoulder the camera focused in on Poptart pacing the ring in front of Kasey Winterborn.

Kasey made the point of never being at ringside with her boyfriend during her matches, because it was her own battle, her own struggle, her path to follow. Shawn had his own wars, she had her own objectives. But sure, those fucking Cure scumbags could just get it. And she knew that she was staring across the ring at what was basically a member, because he was aligned to Moore who was working with them.

But he was working with Michelle, who was buddies with Paul Montuori, who was in Dynasty. Where did Poptart’s loyalties lie? A bit of everywhere. She shook her head out, her mind was going wayward. Lucky, too, because just as she started to come to her senses and focus on the behemoth rather than the motives behind the behemoth, he lunged at her. She ducked beneath the cross right hand, grabbed a handful of his pants and dragged him to the mat, where she began to work him over.

The match didn’t go too long, with Kasey seeming to be the better in most exchanges, but she got caught off-guard when Korrupt appeared briefly, and then he ran out again.

Poptart hit a move that nobody really understood what was happening, and with a handful of shorts, managed to grab a sneaked pinfall victory on behalf of Miss Michelle.

Kasey stared down at the mat, then at Poptart, then at the referee high above the ring. Disbelief.

Toasted Poptart

From nowhere, unprovoked, Poptart is taken out. Flattened, face down.

It doesn’t take a genius to work out who. Nor their motivation.

Because whilst Kasey Winterborn pondered whether Poptart cared more about his friendship with Brandon Moore – they shared the same mask after all – or his role as proxy to Michelle, Shawn Warstein didn’t give a single fuck.

This wasn’t about what had transpired in the ring. Warstein had enough respect for his girlfriend that he let it go down clean. This was about sending a message, a loud and clear fucking message to a group of people but in reality, one person in particular.

The one who’d bumrushed him, the one who’d given him the side eye at every opportunity.

Warstein gestured, with the baseball bat in his hand, for Brandon Moore to come and join him, to come and save his meat shield.

Occhi, though, managed to find Brandon Moore. As he ran through the hallways, following the “Ring this way” signs that all the athletes had grown accustomed to, he turned a corner and then a door slammed shut.

Amari Kent smirked to himself.

Amari Kent: That MDM guy, though… fricken genius.

For Our Own Good

JJ Starfire: Marf. C’mon.

Pixie Sloane: If that stick insect or her tattoo-faced moron try to jump on the commentary booth or fuck this up in any way, I will stand up and walk away, even if she’s dead to rights.

JJ is following Pixie through the arena as she makes her way toward her match.

JJ Starfire: I don’t even understand why you’re upset with them? They’ve been nothing but nice to us, they have our best interests at heart, everything they do, its for us! It is for our own good!

Pixie Sloane: I see she has given you the talking points, then. Anything else written on a post-it note to say to me? Just make sure she stays out of my way. And if you can’t, then you better hope that I don’t find you hanging around either.

Brandon Moore vs Valkyrie

Occhi finds Brandon Moore on the inside of a closet, trapped in and frustratedly beating at the inside of the door as his music plays for what feels like the fifth time through the arena. Valkyrie is pacing back and forth in the ring, and the speaker is counting out loud. Finally it reaches ten.


Shawn Warstein appears on the screen, he raises a hand up to Valkyrie as if acknowledging her. Then he points behind him at Amari Kent talking to an intern and showing him towards the locket closet with a padlock key. Warstein laughs, and they walk away. He taps his baseball bat on the floor with each step.

He perhaps ponders whether it’d be funnier to keep him locked in there. He half thinks that it might come to bite him in the ass if he lets him out. But fuck it. Let the dog bite, see if he likes being bitten back.

Toxic Tag Team Announcement

VooDoo vs Pixie Sloane

Pixie circled VooDoo. She had so big of a chip on her shoulder and she wanted nothing more than to take it out on VooDoo. She represented what Pixie thought was going wrong. Powerful women bowing down to ‘the man’ simply because he was ‘the man’. 

Fuck that, fuck it all. Pixie had never felt so backed against the wall, the people she trusted betrayed her. She looked at her adversary and thought about everyone who ever said no to her or made her life hard.

VooDoo, on the other hand, saw this feeble small childlike adversary as someone who represented Vhodka Black, the enemy. So she didnt want to be made to look stupid, of course.

The match started off wtih Pixie having the answer to everything VooDoo tried, a counter to her counters, a block to her strike, and the frustration was building in the Malignant Red Matriarch. Eventually, the counters turned to offense and Pixie was starting to turn the screw. She was much faster than VooDoo, much more agile. A reverse hurricanrana with a pinfall attempt was a highlight, plus a couple of standing moonsaults that also only got a two count.

Eventually, though, veteran smarts worked out well for Voodoo, who took a cheap shot, threw Pixie into the ring post and then threw her again shoulder-first into the ring post. The referee above warned VooDoo about her conduct, and she protested that it wasn’t her fault the post got in the way. She then drilled Pixie with a vicious right hand, and started thinking about a superkick or something, maybe. She teased the crowd.

Pixie dug deep, started to fight back, but it looked like VooDoo was going to get the better of the match, when Vhodka Marie appeared. JJ Starfire was following her, protesting that she was going to upset Pixie, but Vhodka Black didn’t seem to care. She started berating the referee, explaining that he didn’t know how to do his job, and that VooDoo ought to have been disqualified.

VooDoo smirked, and it wasn’t until the big screen on the wall started to read out four, five, six… with the crowd eventually counting along, that anybody had realised that Pixie Sloane had slid out under the bottom rope, and was walking away from the ring.


She didn’t care. Truly. She was done with people not respecting her wishes.

Back in the ring, VooDoo thanks Vhodka Black for the ‘easy win’, but Vhodka brushes it off, and slides into the ring.

The two matriarchs stood opposite each other again. The first ones to throw hands in here, are finally face to face again. It is inaudible, but the vitriol is starting to feel tangible. Then, crack. Vhodka Black drops VooDoo on her ass. VooDoo sweeps her legs from beneath her, then they both dive at each other, going for the throat. Suddenly we’re swarmed with people in security guard clothing, all screaming into their headsets as they flood the ring and pull the women apart.

Toxic Tag Team Announcement

Anicka Swan vs Dollface

FIGHt! NYC Bareknuckle Championship

Miss F and Serotonin meet Dollface and Anicka Swan respectively at their dressing room. Each is led down a hallway to a private elevator located behind a locked door. Both Miss F and Serotonin step out of the way for the combatants to enter the elevator car. As soon as they do, the doors slide shut, and their descent begins. Each exist their elevator and walks into the pit. Altered from the last time we saw it, the wooden posts have been removed, and a scaffolding consisting of several different levels has been placed in the middle of the area. Looking at the structure through the Occhi system alone, we can tell that it is anything but secure. By the look of it, a strong breeze would tip it, let alone the violence produced by two of the business most brutal combatants. Anicka Swan gave her ponytail a tug, making sure it was tight to her head. Dollface tilted her head, wondering what the point was, but also not caring.

As the bell rang, the two ran toward the structure and began to circle each other, utilizing the bars and platforms to avoid the other, while also trying to get around them. They narrowly avoided each other’s attempts one after the other, until finally they both ended up on the same platform, and the entertainment truly began. Anicka put her guard up, and as Dollface did the same, the two begin to wildly launch an offensive at the other. Anicka, jabbing efficiently, reserving her strength by relying on her speed, and Dollface, picking her shots when she felt confident they’d land. Anicka took a clear shot to the chin, which lit a fire in her gut, and suddenly her hands weren’t moving, they were liquid. Dollface staggered backward, each hand crashing against the side of her head, or her shoulder, or the top of her head. Falling to a lower platform, Dollface rolled to the ground, and gathered her bearings, despite Anicka taunting her from above.

Dollface looked at Anicka, and grabbed a bar connected to the upper layer. She pulled the bar, and the entire structure began to shake. Pulling it more and more, Anicka leaped down, and twisted in mid air, and fell to the ground. Anicka rose to her feet, and chased Doll with a rage that only a fall like that can inspire. Doll ducked and dodged every attempt, laughing all the while as Anicka tried to hit her. And then suddenly, Anicka wasn’t trying anymore. She was simply connecting regardless of where Dollface moved.

As many know, the term ‘rope a dope’ was coined in boxing when one opponent would allow the other to diminish their energy levels, by letting their opponent tire themselves out by throwing punches. Punches they would avoid. As of this moment, it became clear that while Doll was trying to get Anicka tired by letting her throw punches, Anicka was doing the same to Doll by making her dodge punches.

Doll, angry at how smart Anicka is, began to take the shots while also dishing out her own. Left after Right, Right after Left, Uppercut after Haymaker, the two women targeted and rocked each others heads side to side and back and forth with furious precision and strength. Skin began to redden and swell as blood leaked from noses and lips. Over the course of ten minutes, Two of the toughest women in wrestling blocked not one punch, but landed at least 30. Both tired and worn out from the beating they both took and gave, the two settled for punching each other every other 5 seconds, as they attempted to stay standing on legs made of jello. Anicka sees Dollface beginning to falter, but as she rears back to level her with a right straight, Dollface suddenly comes to life, as if this very moment was why she had been through what she’d been through, and here and now it all became useful. She moves to the left and crashes their right hand into Anicka’s jaw, Almost breaking it off if not dislocating it, and sending her to the floor with a thud. Anicka lays there for a moment, Doll looking over her with what seems to be sadness to her eyes. As Anicka does not rise, the match ends, but Doll’s sadness continues.


Toxic Tag Team Announcement

What? You Didn't See That Coming?

Vincent Black walks down a hallway, as the camera tracks him from ahead of him. Behind him, we can see Dollface duck out of a doorway and silently stalk him. As if the assualt at blood money, and the attacks that have taken place ever since weren’t enough. With a twisted look in her eyes, She gets closer and closer by the second, her hands shaking with anger all the while. When she finally reaches him, a cloud of white smoke bursts into her face as Vhodka Black leaps out from a nearby closet and sprays her with a fire extinguisher to the face. Dollface tries to claw at Vincent through the cloud  but Vhodka gut shots her with the extinguisher and sends her doubled over to the floor, beneath the cloud of smoke. As the area clears, we find that Dollface is gone, with nothing but a small puddle of the black shit she spits left behind. Vin and Vhodka kiss and smile at one another, having finally gotten one over on the bitch.

Vincent Black: It’s nice when you’re not so busy trying to kill the mother of my children that you’ll help me out.

Vhodka Black: Well, as long as you’re thankful.

Toxic Tag Team Announcement

The Blacks vs Graham Clauson & Druscilla White

Natural Born Killers, AKA Chaos Theory AKA The Blacks AKA not in a racist way that’s just their last names, stand across the ring, cheerfully watching as Dru and Clauson argue over which one is going to start the match. Vhodka winks at Vin, and takes the first go, as Clauson finally decides to start it off as well. Vhodka and Graham dance around each other, and so begins their display of back and forth style reversals and counters that impresses everyone save for Vincent. Vincent is doing nothing but burning holes into Clauson. His eyes follow his face every step of the way, and Clauson can feel it even when he isn’t looking. Vhodka does a great job of trying to get Clauson close enough to Vin to make the tag, but Clauson fights back as if his life depends on it, because at this point it does. Vincent snarls with each passing moment, waiting to get his hands on Clauson. But as the match progresses, that becomes less and less likely.

Clauson tags in Dru, just as Vhodka tags in Vin. Vin and Dru fight, but we can see that Vin’s heart isn’t in it. He doesn’t want to fight a friend. He wants to take his hands and wrap them around the throat of the man who hasn’t been able to shut up about him, until he either dies or shuts up about him. But his chance does not come. As Graham won’t tag Dru out, won’t even remain in the corner if she’s thrown to it. All in an effort to piss off Vincent.

The match goes on this way for about 10 minutes. Vhodka and Graham are in the ring, and due to an excellently pulled off cross body by Clauson, He has the upper hand. He begins to drop repeated leg drops onto Vhodka, keeping her down and in the middle of the ring. Clauson watches as Vhodka starts to crawl toward her corner, but Clauson grabs her leg, and holds her into place, taunting Vin like he’s been doing the entire time. Vhodka then quickly plants her hands against the mat, pushes up, and at the same time rolls onto her head and uses her legs, which Graham was holding, to shoot him into the corner. Graham does not make it to the corner, as Vincent grabs him by the throat with his hand, and tags Vhodka, who is on her feet and smiling. Graham realizes far too late that while he was playing, they were planning.

The fight picks up and hits top speed as Vincent Black lays into Clauson with everything he has, while Graham does his best to fight him off using his speed and agility. As equally matched as they are despite the size difference, Vincent gets the upper hand, and DVD’s Clauson with an impact that makes stomachs turn from the sound. Graham, who begins to get his bearings in the ring, starts crawling toward his corner as Vincent watches. His hand reaches out to Dru, who is leaning into the ring to tag him, and as Clauson leaps from his stomach to make contact, Dru removes her hand, and drops off the apron. Clauson becomes enraged and tries to scramble after her, but is lifted off his feet by Vincent by the back of his neck. Clauson attempts to fight back, but Vincent headbutts him once, twice, and thrice, taking the consciousness almost out of Clauson entirely. Scooping him up, Vincent positions him into a scoop slam, but drives his head into the mat for his finisher from days go by known as the Coffin Nail. 

Dru makes no effort to save him as Vin covers him by pressing down on his face with his one arm, and hooking his limp leg with the other.


Vin and Vhodka pick Clauson up, and Vhodka looks him in the eyes before saying loudly “I don’t drink, and you don’t think. Keep our name out of your mouth.” Satisfied with the sight of him, Vin throws him out of the ring like a rag doll. Vin and Vhodka celebrate in the ring for a moment before leaving. Dru waves to them, and looks at Clauson who is trying to get to his feet. As he does, he launches off his toes and attacks Dru, who fights back with elbows and knees. The two of them spill over the guardrail and begin to fight amongst the crowd. Clauson grabs a drink from a fan and bashes it against Dru’s head, sending ice and plastic bits everywhere. Taking advantage of her not being able to see, He drop toe holds her to the concrete, and tries to stomp her head into the unpadded cement floor. But Dru rolls out of it and sweeps his leg, sending Graham down as well. As the two fight, suddenly Miss F appears onf the FIGHT screens all over the arena.

Toxic Tag Team Announcement

Fatal Attraction vs Dane Preston & Sahara

FIGHT! NYC Islands Championship

To say that the tension was palpable would be an understatement. The four athletes stood in the ring, Dane and Allison jaw-jacking from opposite sides of the ring at one another.

Joe Montuori was split, his anger towards Dane and his joy towards Allie who was finally singing from the same songsheet as he. On the one hand, he didn’t want to miss an opportunity to dogpile onto Dane and make sure he knew just how little he thought of him, but on the other, he just wanted to jump for joy do that little dance like the kid that finally won after years of being a loser.

Everything’s coming up Milhouse, he thought.

Sahara, she was just having the world of fun. As the early exchanges of the match progressed, she stood opposite Joe, countering everything to the point that he tagged in Allison. He hadn’t paid her the slightest bit of respect and now he was kinda smarting because it was clear she had his number in the early-going. Allison, though, had fury in her eyes, she hated Sahara, but Sahara just laughed it off, sidestepped her advances, used her momentum against her and sent her packing back to the corner from which she came.

When Joe Montuori got the tag back in, Sahara smirked, and pointed to Dane. Both men in the encounter started going crazy at her to let them at it, and as a consummate professional, she completely whipped the crowd into a frenzy before finally tagging Dane into the ring. He stepped through the ropes, and to a chorus of boos he was left disappointed by Joe Montuori who laughed in his face and tagged in his wife.

Dane started yelling that he didn’t come here to fight his wife, and he wants Montuori back in the ring. As a point of protest, he decided to go to tag Sahara back in, which again led the crowd to a chorus of boos. Not wanting to upset the NYC crowd, Sahara leaned back and refused to accept the tag. Frustrated again, Dane turns to Allison.

Dane Preston: Tag your bitch ass boyfriend back in.

Allison Riggs-Preston: Why? Scared to get beaten up by your WIFE?

Dane laughed at her. But deep down he was furious.

Dane Preston: Oh, so you’re still my wife?

A moment’s trepidation, then the husband and wife locked up in the center of the ring and the crowd starts to really get into it. Sure, they wanted to see Dane and Joe lock horns, but they will certainly get that at some point. This overspill from Maury Povich was everything you’d hoped it’d be and more. They wrestled like they’d been training partners for the best part of god-knows-how-many years. Fluid, and each time it felt like one had the upper hand, the tide would turn and the other would take control. They displayed athleticism that you wouldn’t have known about having watched Dane over the years, he wrestled differently with her to accommodate her size and athleticism. Ultimately, it was her who got the upper hand, and just as it looked like she was in cruise control, Joe Montuori asked and received the tag back into the match.

The sweltering crowd kicked up a gear as Montuori took to Dane, delivering kicks to his gut and spine over and over, Dane clutching his abdomen. There was then a period where the FIGHT! Islands Champions isolated Dane, keeping him in one corner of the ring. There must have been six or seven tags and double team offensive moves between them before Dane managed to sneak out and drop Joe Montuori on his face with one of his trademark moves, the Ravager.

The clock on the screen above started to count both men out. ARP and Sahara eventually both managed to get into the ring somewhere around a seven and it was clearly Sahara who took the upper hand, with all the momentum in the world. She laid out ARP, she laid out Montuori, and then just as ARP was getting to her feet again, she hit a springboard superman punch and went for the cover. ARP was clutching her face, but Joe Montuori managed to yank her boot and pull her off his partner, saving the championships and the match.

ARP was dragged to the corner by JMont, who tagged himself in, and then he and Sahara started to go to work. After a few moments, Preston was back in the ring and for the first time he was fresh against Montuori, starting to throw all the rights and lefts that he has wanted to throw for the last 3 months. Throwing everything he had built up in his mind, all the emotion he had for his wife, for everything that’d transpired. His bare knuckles were slicing into the face of Joe Montuori, who was standing stoic in the face of it, refusing to back down.

Montuori’s face was a crimson mask. Dane’s fists were covered up to the wrist. Sahara salivated, reaching over the top rope to tag herself in. Dane turned around, pissed off.

Sahara: What? We’re a team, arent we? Let me get a few licks in.

Dane shook his head in derision, then ARP hopped the rope to come to her partner’s aid. He could barely stand. Dane, out of the corner of his eye, saw this, and moved to intercept.

Sahara was fighting Joe, Dane was fighting Allie, all four competitors in the ring. The referee above the ring was starting to order the competitors to go back to the legal participants, but it was no use. All of a sudden, Sahara had her hands wrapped around Joe Montuori’s junk. Adjacent to them, Dane had a handful of his wife’s breasts from behind. Dane and Sahara looked at each other and then simultaneously hit some strange genitalia-involved german suplex.

Damon Riggs: That’s my daughter you just boobplexed! What the fuck?

J Michael Brilliance: Joe Montuori is grabbing his MONTY PYTHON, what a JUNK PLEX!

Sahara starts smiling, then gesturing to the crowd. She looks over at Dane and cackles.

Sahara: It really is, like, comically large. Wow. No wonder she likes ‘tagging’ with him.

And from there it devolved into chaos. Riggs was on his feet in the commentary booth, yelling at everyone. Joe Montuori slid out of the ring to step between Dane and his father in law, acting like a strange peace maker. Inside the ring, Sahara was the only legal participant, not that anybody cared. But Allison Riggs-Preston took her out with a superkick from behind. There was a number counting up on the board, but nobody knew if it was a countout for Sahara or for Joe.

The bloodied Joe Montuori ended up punching Dane, then Riggs pushed them apart, then they went at it again, throwing rights and lefts before one or the other landed on the other and the brawl went to the floor.


Boos ring throughout the arena.

Every match on this card felt like there was a no-decision. Fuck that.

That was, until, they realised that this part of the show was not over.

Far from it.

Because Dane and Joe were heading through the fire escape and up some stairs, and occhi was capturing all of it. Allison was trying to chase after them. Sahara was intervening and making her life difficult.

Eventually they got to an undefined floor, where they burst through the fire escape and into the main corridor where there seemed to be a lot of corporate offices. Joe is dragging Dane along the wall, spiking his head into it. The camera keeps jumping so it catches his skull being driven into the wall right where the camera is. Dane is starting to bleed now, too.

Sahara is grabbing the hair of Allison, and whips her down to the floor.

Sahara: So, you just had that amazing guy and you decided it wasnt enough?

Allison Riggs-Preston: Stay. Away. From. My. Husband.

She said as she drove kicks into the feet of Sahara. She got to her feet and drove a knee into her skull.

Allison Riggs-Preston: I know you’re fucking, and you’ll regret it because I’m gonna put every last one of your teeth down your throat.

Sahara smiled as she ate another knee to the face, she grabbed hold of ARP’s tights and pulled her to her feet, the two women disappeared into a closet with a loud clattering sound.

Meanwhile, the occhi system flipped to Montuori and Preston just as Preston had thrown Joe Montuori into a plate glass full length window, behind which a board meeting seemed to be taking place. The glass spidered and splintered, and then shattered around Joe Montuori who lay in a crumpled heap. Not wanting to be outdone, he was quick to his feet and sprinted at Preston, driving him in a power double through the opposite meeting room’s corresponding window.

Board Member: SECURITY!

He screamed into a telephone, started using expletives and soon the floor was swarmed. But additionally, this board member was the kind of board member who had some kind of sway, it seemed. He was directing the security staff to detain them because he wanted them arrested for property damage. The pair of wrestlers were sat down, zip-tied with their hands behind their back and facing each other.

Joe Montuori: Fuck you.

Dane Preston: NO. FUCK YOU.


Dane kicked out at Montuori. They were having something of a bitchfight with their feet, screaming expletives at each other.

As the scene started to fade, we see Sahara emerge from the closet with a broom, a devilish grin on her face, and she sweeps the floor behind her.

Toxic Tag Team Announcement

Toxic Tag Team Announcement

Dickie Watson & Amari Kent vs Paul Montuori & Ricky Rodriguez

Paul Montouri steps into the ring, and looks across. There is Amari Kent, the Brooklyn champion, who had he played his cards right could have been inconsequential to him and his friends, but alas, decided to not only help out the two people in FYA, but also then took up arms with the guy who was wearing HIS Empire championship. Most people would agree, Paul felt, that he was the one destined to be the first one. Of course, now he’d have to settle for being the guy who took it from the first one. Which at the end of the day was not bad.

And speaking of the first Empire champ, Paul could see him as well, standing next to Amari with that foolish haircut and scarless face. Paul was pretty, he knew that. But Dickie looked like a thin cherub. No lines on his face to be found, and that just bothered him. What kind of professional fighter has that kind of skin? Paul was going to have to do something about that. But not today.

This match didn’t matter. Not to Paul. Sure, he’d heard the peanut gallery talking about how this was a preview for what was to come. But it wasn’t. The air wasn’t right. The feeling. He wasn’t the only one who noticed, Dickie did, too. This wasn’t a title fight. There wasn’t a feeling of urgency. During title fights you didn’t care if your opponent lived or died. But here, this was just a fight. And a fight that Paul was going to do his best to orchestrate, if only to stop Dickie from having an excuse going forward.  Before the match had even begun, he had made sure to make it clear to Ricky, when Dickie tags in, Ricky tags out. And ironically enough, the same strategie was being planned on the other side. Dickie and Paul were both well aware of their upcoming and incoming altercation. And both were very concerned with the other having an excuse to make.

The match began with Amari and Ricky doing their best impressions of two young and hungry combatants. Because that is precisely what they were, and they were acting accordingly. Time progressed and the match took off running with every second, as Amari and Ricky both executed moves that other bigger superstars couldn’t imagine, and also pulled off reversals that most men of their size wouldn’t be able to do as well. And as each of them got tired, they would both break, and back up to their respective corner to tag out for a rest. But this became an issue of its own.

The crowd knew right away if one of them went to the corner to tag out, the other would, too. This created a predictability that was not at all pleasing, and the crowd began to voice their opinions, as well as those watching from home who used the scroll at the bottom of the screen. ‘Fight Fight Fight’ the crowd chanted, ‘Boring < Fighting’ the scroll read. And despite these, Dickie and Paul spent most of their time in the ring measuring one another up. Dickie would lock an arm lock, Paul would reverse. Paul would irish whip Dickie, see how fast he’d come back off the ropes. This wasn’t a fight for these men, it was an experiment. This wasn’t a ring, it was their lab. And they were testing each other every step of the way. Mental notes were made more than moves and neither had issue with it. And when they had their fill, they’d return to their corner and tag out. Save for the last time they did so.

Paul and Dickie had done a back and forth avoidance drill of sorts. Each would attempt a move and the other would duck it, dodge, or reverse. It was almost educational as well as it went off, but then Paul started walking back to his corner to tag out, and Dickie turned his back to do the same. Paul sprinted across the ring and clubbed Dickie in the back of the head with an elbow, sending him forward into his corner, where Amari slapped his shoulder and leaped onto the top rope, executing a diving dropkick that sent Paul flying backwards toward his own corner. Rolling over feet first, he sprung to his feet and tagged Ricky just as Amari pursued. Rick launched himself over the top rope and grabbed Amari’s head, driving him into the mat for a DDT. Paul stood in the corner, his eyes locked on Dickie as Dickie did the same. And as if they shared a thought, Paul and Dickie hopped off their respective sides of the ring, and walked toward each other. When they came face to face, no words were exchanged. No time was given for the other to prepare. They both began to throw punches as hard and as fast as they could. The crowd exploded as the two men assaulted one another with anger in both their faces and every action.

Meanwhile in the ring, Amari and Ricky were both in the corner, each trying to get the upper hand on the other. Paying no mind to their partners outside the ring, Amari and Ricky climbed the turnbuckle while battling the other, each hoping to get the upper hand once they were standing. Unfortunately, both ended up climbing to the top turnbuckle with nowhere to go, when from the crowd, Murphy Doyle Maher appeared, jumping up to the apron, he ran toward them and checked them both off of the turnbuckle, and sent them flying to the floor below with Amari taking the brunt of the fall. Murphy, laughing all the while, hauled ass back through the crowd as Paul and Dickie checked on their respective partners. Using the moment almost like a reset, Amari and Ricky returned to the ring and Dickie and Paul returned to their respective corners. Amari looks at Ricky and makes a desperation move, a running knee strike, but Ricky counters beautifully and plucks him out of the air and scoop slamming him to the mat on the back of his head. Dickie and Paul race to the center of the ring, but both are concentrated on stopping the other, and not the pin, and as they fight it out, the 3 count finishes.

Toxic Tag Team Announcement