Hu(s)m(ile)an Res(y)ou(ridgid)ces(lit)

Vincent Black sat at his desk, a folder before him with a list of names with checks against them. He’d asked for this form to be emailed, but for some reason it was sent physically instead. He looked over at his computer at the moment a chime alerted him to, and found the log ins for all of the talent. Scanning it quickly, he found two names that were left off the list. Xavier Cross, who had logged into the building but hadn’t logged into his dressing room, and Tiger Ultra, who had never logged into the building at all. Vin was uneasy about both of these, but it was entirely possible that Cross had went to the bar or one of the communal areas allowed and simply lost track of time. But Ultra not being in the building at all didn’t make sense.

Vin Black: Karen…come in here please.

Karen who at one point had been a receptionist. Karen who had been harassed by one Joe Montouri. Karen who had been dismissed by previous HR workers simply because they didn’t understand the jobs they no longer have. Karen, who was now Vincents assistant, a higher paid position for which she had little skill or interest in. She knew what this was. This was a reward for not going hard in the paint on the entire Montouri situation. And why strive to do a job you were given as a bribe? What are they going to do? Fire you from your bribe?

Karen: Yeah?

Vin Black: Did you activate Tigre Ultra’s keycard as I asked?

Karen: Yeah?

Vin Black: Do not yeah me. He hasn’t logged in yet. I want to make sure you did it correctly. Like I showed you. Thrice.

Karen: Please, like its that hard, he was already in the system anyway so I barely had to do anything.

Vin Black: He was? Tigre Ultra was in the system, despite just signing on?

Karen: I searched Tiger and he came up, so I just activated his old card.

Vin Black: He didn’t have an old card. He’s new.

Karen: He did too! I searched for Tiger and it came up!

Vin Black: WHY WOULD YOU…why would you search for a name when I told you to make a new accou…That’ll be all.

Vincent watched as she left the room and leaned back in his chair. He dialed the number for security and before they could pick up, hell before the phone rang, he knew how the conversation was going to go. He’d ask if anyone tried to sneak into the building with a fake access keycard. They’d say ‘yeah some guy posing as Dark Tiger.’ He’d explain what happened and hoped, even if just a little, that they just turned him away and didn’t in fact, mace him until he cried, like they did with that pizza delivery guy who looked a lot like Paul Montouri. Hanging up the phone, he sat back and closed his eyes for a second. He moved his injured shoulder a bit and tensed up as the pain shot up. Vin picked up the phone, pressed a single number, and then spoke directly into the receiver.

Vin Black: Yeah, Ashlynn Cassidy’s gonna have to get a forfeit win here..

A knock at the door brought his attention up, and in no way surprising, he found the eyes of Sarah ‘Dollface’ Wolf gracing his office once more. He closed the folder and pushed it to the side, he adjust the brace on his arm and hid the discomfort that doing so had caused him as much as possible. But like the miserable rat she was, she could smell his weakness. And it made her very happy.

Dollface: Hey, Brother o’ mine. Hope you don’t mind but I really wanted to discuss an idea I had. And since you’re the HR puffenstuffs of this company, best to start here. You don’t mind do you?

Vin Black: Is..is it your suicide? Because If so, support.

Dollface: Aw, sweetie. No. See, I get whats going on, you’re tired of having your fights interrupted, so lock us all up and see if we learn to play nice. So smart. One issue. The second my doors open again, I am going to reach down the throat of the first mother fucker I see and rip out whatever I happen to grab first.

Vin Black: So the tongue?

Dollface: That’s not in the throat, genius. That’s in the mouth.

Vin Black: Technically it starts in the throat and ends in the mouth, genius.

Dollface: EN-NEE-WAY. I have a proposition for you. You let The Cure out, we take out a few people here and there and there and there and there, and we cut this entire Ascension out and just celebrate what Fight is really about. Us.

Vin Black: You know I’m not going to agree to that. Why bother?

Dollface: Because when we’re done, and you see what we’ve left in our wake, you’re going to realize you had the chance to stop it. And you didn’t.

Vin Black: I’m sure. Please return to your cell…I mean Suite.

Dollface: Love to the missus! Or have you found someone else, already?

Dollface stepped out of the office and came face to face with Druscilla, who was being escorted to HR by her own pair of security guards. Dru wanted access to the gym, and was told to go to HR to obtain it. Little did she know just how fruitful of a visit this would be. Doll saw the woman who was meant to be a contender for her title, and she lit up, like a wild animal does when it sees food for the first time in days.

Dollface: Oh look, the goth Barbie wannabe with her very own tweedledee and tweedledumbass.

Dru growled low but steady and everything about her tensed. Not out of fear, or anger, but out of preparation.

Druscilla: Aww, so cute. The factory reject thinks she can mouth off.

Doll smirked and took a step forward. She got so close to Dru the guards looked to Vincent Black who was now standing in the doorway. He gave the the signal to stand down, and they eased up.

Dollface: I can do a lot worse, swunt. That’s a combination o- 

That was when Doll lashed out. A stiff left hook to Dru’s jaw sent the Prophet backwards. As Doll laughed, the four security agents looked at Vin but before they could react he waved them off with genuine glee on his face. Dru then launched herself at Doll full force. The clap of flesh to flesh echoed down the hallway. The OCCHI system came in tight as the two women continued to punch one another. Dru got her close up at the moment she caught a thrown punch and bit down on Doll’s fist. The Doll wailed, pushing at Dru’s skull to free her hand, leaving Dru grinning with blood on her lips. She used her angle to rush and pin the Doll down. Dru took the fierce kicks the Doll sent into her abdomen, Dru came down with a vicious elbow to the woman’s head. The crack was sickening.

Druscilla: I. Am. Sick. Of. Your. Skank. Ass. Thinking. You’re. Bad.

Dru snarled and spoke each word with a matching punch. Doll spat in her face, a grotesque mixture of blood and saliva, Dru pulled back, slightly.

Dollface: Oh, I know I’m bad, pretty Prophet. Unlike you who are just..awful.

The final word from the Doll was emphasized by a lethal kick to Dru’s gut but unfortunately for her, Vincent had nodded to the security guards and they began to separate the women. Still kicking, Dollface worked her way out of the guards arms only to have Dru grab her boot, and in a flash, Dru had twisted her ankle sideways and brought the woman down and hard.

Druscilla: Welcome to the new world, bitch. Here; I rule.

As Dru pulled back and swung, putting all of her rage, all of her hatred, all of who she was into the punch, a disgusting crunch became audible as security ripped the two women apart. Dru was held in place as Dollface was dragged away, screaming at the top of her lungs with blood flowing from her nose. Dru turned to Vincent and found him looking at her with a genuine affection that not many have seen him display. She wiped the blood from her mouth, a little confused by the look.

Druscilla: ..i just came up to ask if I co-

Vin Black: Done. Whatever it is. Done. A thousand times done. Would you like some money?

Dru chuckled as Vincent chuckled, and called out to his secretary to get the footage of this to him immediately. Dru and her guards walked off, leaving nothing behind of the fight except a small amount of blood on the floor and wall and a genuine amount of love for Dru that Vin did not have earlier.

Bet On Myself

Bam Miller is seen sitting on a Harley Davidson Motorcycle in the parking lot of the Tower. He smokes a cigarette while holding a glass Miller Lite bottle in one hand, as he looks up with a focused and determined facial expression.

Bam: It’s been a month since I made my debut at Toxic Tag, and now why my debut night didn’t go as plan as I had envisioned of me winning the Bronx Championship on my first night, but that was ok I’m not ashamed of failure, it’s how we grow as individuals and transcend to the best version of ourselves. Now I’ve been trying to do that but I’ve made a couple of mistakes along the way, and these mistakes I am ashamed of because it’s not me; those actions that led to Michelle being in the hospital was a lack of judgement and I apologize for that, and at the time I didn’t know the hole I was digging. I almost buried myself after getting my head nearly decapitated by Brandon Moore.

He dashes the cigarette ash onto the pavement ground as the smoke clouds around him like a most but gets taken away by the night chill wind.

Bam: Now, since that exchange, I’ve done some thinking and realized I was getting off track and away from my goals on why I.came to Fight! In the first place, that’s to face the very best top talent in all of professional wrestling, and they’re all right here in one company, and I want to collect all their heads and place them on my wall. So that’s why I’ve been back in the gym on a new training plan and preparing for Ascension because, ladies and gentlemen, I do not plan to be on the sidelines watching everyone else get the glory and fame I have come for. Oh no, I’m going to be right on the frontlines, ready to knock heads and collect some Blood Money. Miss F said we had a decision to make, but this one was a quick one for me that didn’t require a lot of thinking; you see, I’ve chosen to swallow my Red Pill and head into battle alone like a true warrior; I know I am. Because teaming with anyone around here is a joke, everyone here would have no problem stabbing their allies in the back if the right opportunity presented itself. So I won’t be a fool like most around here being used as a pawn in someone else’s game. Instead, I’m going to make my own moves, which brings me back to Michelle Moore, The Bronx Champion and now first-time mother; congratulations on that, Michelle. I hope you find happiness in your new role because I’m coming for Goldie in due time, I’ve already placed my bid towards you and that Bronx Championship, so I’ll be seeing you real soon and hopefully this time you’ll leave the Poptart back in the wrapper so we can have what I believe can be an instant classic of a match, but enough with all that I’ve got a match to go win but I just wanted everyone to know in Fight!NYC it’s about to be Miller Time around here.

Bam tosses his cigarette to the ground and walks inside the Fight Tower to get ready for his match with Cross.

Get In Line

Inside the Dynasty suite, Ricky Rodriguez, Alexis Hunter and Paul Montuori sit on a couch looking annoyed as Joe Montuori and Michelle Moore bicker back and forth. Paul stands up between them.

Paul Montuori: Alright enough you two. You’re starting to make me regret putting you two on the team for Ascension. You’re starting to make the group look bad with your bullshit.

Joe Montuori: Bro, Michelle is out of line.

Paul Montuori: I don’t care what your issues are. You’re going to be repping Dynasty at Ascension, I need you two on the same page. Ricky’s the youngest in the group and he’s got his shit together more than you two. Now both of you hug it out already.

Michelle Moore: Ew never.

Joe Montuori: Same.

Paul Montuori: Alright then both of you just relax then. Try and keep your bickering behind closed doors until Ascension. Now I’m going to go look for the Ramsey’s and see which of the two is going to be our fifth. You think you can behave while I’m gone?

Michelle Moore: Whatever.

Joe shrugs and sits down.

Paul Montuori: Good enough for me.

Bam Miller vs X2

Bam Miller is pacing the ring, and as Xavier Cross’ music hits, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The sinking feeling of deja vu. What is it with this place? The music plays, nobody comes out, another bullshit excuse, no hands thrown.

Bam kicks the bottom rope. The crowd are restless.

Usually some kinda bullshit in this Tower, but what about Lockdown? He’s being escorted to the ring, what could have gone wrong?

Then the lights go out. A low rumbling laugh echoes through the Tower, then a face. A familiar face. A face that Bam really did not want to see.

Brandon Moore: You just thought we sweeping this under the rug, that I got it out of my system when I painted the whole basement with your biological crimson paint? Nah. I greased a few palms. Turned a few blind eyes. Made a few deals. You get another week to heal up, get pristine. Shit, maybe rub those two brain cells together and take the opportunity to split. But if you still here next week? We are finishing it.

The screen goes black. Then when the arena lights up again, Bam is gone.

I Scream, You Scream

We All Scream for Ice Cream

Vhodka Marie Black was sitting in the apartment in FIGHT Tower that she shared with her husband, Vincent, who was currently heading up the HR department. She was scrolling through Facebook and Twitter and waiting for him to swing by the apartment for some pre-show action. She was about to start searching for a new recipe to try out when she received a text message from Vincent.

Vincent Text: You up for some ice cream? If you are just letting you know that I am upstairs in the walk freezer. Since the place is on lockdown, not too many staff up here in the kitchen. I’m between the chocolate and the strawberry.

That was all she needed to know. She was sliding out the couch and popping the panel to the duct and crawling inside. She reached out and pulled the couch back in place before she was crawling down the duct like she was John McClane in “Die Hard”, she chuckled as she took a right at the next duct.

Vhodka Marie: Come out to the coast. We’ll get together. Have a few laughs.

She made it to the end of the duct and looked out through the grate behind a potted plant; making sure the hallway right by the elevators was clear. Once she saw the coast was clear, she popped that duct and quickly got out, ran over to the elevator and hit the button and ran back behind the plant and waited. As soon as the elevator door popped open, she ran across the hallway and ducked inside and quickly hit the close door button.

Vhodka Marie: About to get me a double scoop.

She smiled as she hit the button for the restaurant on the top floor. When the doors opened, she stepped out into the dark restaurant. It was empty like he said, she started her way over to the kitchen area, stopping by the silverware along the way and grabbed a couple of spoons, not those little old teaspoons either but the soup spoons. She made her way into the kitchen and through the prep area, stopping for a moment to swap out the soup spoons for spoons almost as big as ladles. She walked through the next set of doors to where all the food was kept on shelves as well as the walk in fridge and freezer. She walked over to the freezer and opened the door.

Vhodka Marie: Where are you, my little hot fudge sundae? She stepped inside the freezer and waited for an answer to come from among the shelves to reveal his location. So, you wanna play hide and seek?

She walked further into the freezer, with a smile on her face, looking up and down the row of shelves until she reached the back of the freezer. The confused look on her face was replaced with another one as she heard the door close and lock. She raced back to the door and looked out the small window to see VooDoo standing there with a smile on her face. Seems like Vhodka Marie wasn’t the only one who was good at slipping away from her security detail. Vhodka struggled against the door for a moment as she watched VooDoo wave and turn around and walk back through the doors, turning out the light behind her. Vhodka reached in her back pocket for her cell phone and it wasn’t there. She had stuffed it in the couch cushions before she slipped away so they couldn’t track her.

Vhodka Marie: Fuck.

Hours later, after a long day of dealing with shit in HR, because at FIGHT there are really no such thing as having a day off with the staff they have; Vincent stepped in the apartment expecting to find his wife waiting. It’s been one PR nightmare after another and he could use some lovin’.

Vincent Black: Babe! He walked over to the couch and took a seat, rubbing his shoulder as it ached and reminded him of his sister Sarah. After a few moments when she didn’t run in and pounce on him he called out again. Fran!

Nothing. He groaned, she slipped away again. He pulled out his cell phone and called hers, which started to ring right beside him. He reached into the couch cushions with his good hand and used the passcode 4883, H8VD on the keypad, aka Hate VooDoo. He saw the text message still open. All he could do was shake his head as he made his way back out the door he had just walked through, yep, there was no such thing as having a day off.

Taking out the trash

We switch to the back and find Michelle standing on one leg with the other stretched out in front of her along a table as she leans forward, stretching herself out before her match with Allison. 

She brought her leg down from the table and proceeded to pull her shorts out of her ass before bending at the waist to stretch her upper half. Brandon Moore and Poptart came around the corner and as they approached Brandon reached out slapping her on her ass, which caused her to stand straight up. 

“Oww! Damn it..” she said, rubbing her ass where he hit it. “You don’t have to be so rough ya know?”

“Oh, my bad, I thought you liked it rough.” He laughed as she playfully smacked his arm. 

“My virgin ears..” Poptart interrupted. 

She rolled her eyes at him and smiled before he spoke again.

“Are you sure you’re ready tonight? It ain’t no thing for me to go out and ragdoll that bitch for you.”

“Oh I’m sure you could, but no. I will handle little miss Allison myself. I am so tired of her walking around with the big ass nose she inherited from her dad, stuck in the air. She needs to be taught a lesson, and I wanna be the one to teach it.”

“She does run her mouth an awful lot about you and how much you want to fuck her husband, I can understand why you want to be the one to go out there.”

“My wife wants to fuck Princess Dane? In who’s fantasy? My baby has standards, the only dick she wants is right here.” Brandon interjected,  grabbing himself for emphasis. 

The three of them laugh as she nods her head.

“He ain’t wrong. She’s always saying some dumb shit like that though.  It’s annoying but I’m actually quite used to it. However, I will take a minute to correct a few things, because I do have a son now and I don’t need the reputation that Allison is trying to bestow upon me..

I seen her little promo and I couldn’t believe half the shit she had the audacity to say. For one,  the only person who’s going around talking about your husband’s dick, is Sahara.  Second of all, I never went around exclaiming that I should have fucked Dane when “I had the chance.” 

I DID say that he took me to a bar with the intention of bedding me,  because HE DID.  He can claim that he didn’t to you to save face all he wants. He and I both know what he was trying to do that night, and I really couldn’t give two shits what you believe.

You and your husband are shitty people, Allison. You think because a couple of subpar people paid a little bit of attention to you that you are this big deal, but you’re not.”

She reached over and grabbed the Bronx Championship from the table, placing it over her shoulder. She stood on her toes and gave Brandon a quick kiss on the mouth and bumped fists with Poptart. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to take out this week’s garbage so I can move on to the next. Allison thinks she’s gonna get an easy win over me so she can have a shot at this belt, she’s got another thing coming.”

She heads off towards the ring area, leaving B and Poptart behind. Brandon looks over at Poptart and playfully punches him in the stomach.

“Dont stare at my wife’s ass..”

Miss Michelle vs Allison Riggs-Preston

No one was quite sure what to expect when Michelle Moore stepped back into the ring for the first time since the birth of her son Ezra and all the trauma that had surrounded what is usually such a happy event. After a somewhat clunky beginning with Allison Riggs Preston working out what was surely some of the stress from her personal life on her Aunt Michelle things were finally starting to turn around for Michelle in this match as Allison snapped into the corner like the crack of a whip, and ate an elbow to the face courtesy of Michelle. Michelle not looking to lose any momentum grabbed Allison by the hair dragging her out of the corner and back towards the center of the ring but only gained herself several blows to the midsection by Allison’s for her troubles. Michelle put up a good fight trying to keep the ground she had gained with Allison but was given no choice but to release the handfuls of blonde hair and retreat enough to catch her breath as Allison charged forward, hooking Michelle’s ankle as she did and sending her down to the mat. Michelle, stunned, looks up at the lights above her trying to collect herself enough to formulate some sort of offensive plan by the time Allison drags her back to her feet. It had been a while since Michelle had been in the ring, not all that long, but long enough that she craved the taste of a win and the feeling of standing over someone proving that she was just that much better than they had been. It wasn’t only the win of course, it was also everything that had happened surrounding the birth of her son. The realization that her life, that all this, could be taken from her in an instant. Michelle wasn’t ready to lay down. Not then, not tonight. Not for death and certainly not for Allison Riggs Preston of all people. 

That plan came in the way of a swinging neckbreaker sending Allison Preston Riggs to the mat in a haze as Michelle scurried to the turnbuckle and executed a move that we’ve yet to see her do here in FIGHT, a double jump moonsault to a pin, effectively dashing Allison’s hopes of a Bronx title run in the near future and surely adding to the laundry list of disappointments suffered by Riggs Preston lately.

J Mont's Phone Call

You can see J Mont pacing back and forth. There is definitely a lot on his mind at the moment. When he finally stops, he reaches into his pocket and grabs his cell phone. Without any hesitation, he makes a call.

Mia: Hey baby. How are things?

J Mont: Wifey, I just don’t know. A part of me is telling me to just let it be but the other part is telling me to ruin the Main Event and take out Sahara.

Mia: I cannot afford to have you get into any kind of trouble babe.

J Mont: You don’t understand. I’m the King of New York. If I let her get away with this, then everyone is gonna think they can run buck shot on me and my family.

Mia: Do you love me?

J Mont: Of course I do. You know I’m gonna marry you when the time is right.

Mia: Then promise me one thing.

J Mont: What’s that babe?

Mia: Just don’t get kicked in the Nuts again.

She lets out a little laughter trying to lighten up the mood.] I wanna have a baby with you one day.

J Mont: That’s my girl. You also have Lowrance Fisher’s phone number right? In case anything gets real out of hand. He knows the deal and we have all the right people lined up to handle any consequences that may occur.

Mia: Yes I have his number. I also have Uncle Vincenzo walking around here like he’s a Major in the army. You also have your boy Razor sharpening knives and your cousin Giuseppe… I’m just gonna say it. He is nuts.

J Mont: They are all there until I make it back after Venom and this Lockdown. I love you. I got to go and get ready for my match and the ending of this show.

Mia: Love you too

J Mont hangs up the phone and right then and there, its like a light bulb went off in his head. Stay tuned.

A Stake In Blood

The scene is Miss F’s office. On the screen ahead of her is Brandon Moore’s face lit up, and split apart on a separate adjacent screen is Shawn Warstein. Cutting through the tension immediately, Miss F begins to speak.

Miss F: Now, we have already agreed to this bout. We know that we will settle our differences at Ascension. We also know that we are currently in lockdown, and that with a date in place, there is no reason to continue to disrupt perfectly good matches. Just for the sake, though, of clarity, I will be clear. At Toxic Tag, as a result of being finalists in the tournament, you each were awarded 2500 Blood Money. At Ascension, you will have the opportunity to double this, or leave with nothing. You will each stake 2500 Blood Money into the match, and FIGHT will offer the obligatory 1000 win bonus and 500 defeat stipend as usual. So the winner of the match will walk away with 6000 Blood Money, whilst the loser will have lost 2000. 

Both men start to speak, not angrily, just to each other, but Miss F immediately mutes both of them.

Miss F: Now is not the time for words. Save them. In the co-main event of Ascension you will settle it. And if you touch each other prior to that, you will forfeit your share of the winnings. Good luck.

Miss F presses a button on the control, closing both of the calls at the same time.

MDM VS Joe Montuori

Joe Montouri entered the ring like the cat that got the canary. A smile across his face that was both sinister and somehow endearing. Clearly enjoying the resurgence of popularity he’s found since returning to active competition. Before stepping into the ring, Joe walked by two empty seats at ringside, and for a moment his smile faded. He shrugged it off and climbed the apron, stepping through jovially and making it a spectacle as he strutted to the middle of the ring. Looking down at the audience, he smirked and gave them a wink. His theme then faded out and his voice took over as the OCCHI system pinpointed his voice among the thousands and broadcasted it from every speaker in the building.

Joe Montouri: Sup New York! I admit I’m a little upset. See, I sent two tickets to Murphy Doyle’s little girl and her mother, so that she could watch her dad get his ass kicked once again, but the great Joe Montouri! And why? Because I hate Murphy? No. Not even slightly. I only wanted them to show up and show support for a man that has fallen so far so fast. Murphy who could’ve been as great as Mia and I are together, but instead chose to follow Dickless Dane Preston, and subject himself to a life of worthlessness. I was hoping having his family here to support him would work. But even they can’t look at the train wreck that is Murphy’s life! Look at this, roll the footage!!

Footage from a forgotten promotion from over a decade back begins to roll. It’s Kal Wolf, a much thinner and much younger Kal Wolf, laying down in the middle of the ring. Joe Montouri, Paul Montouri, and another man whose face is blurred out because we don’t have the rights to his likeness, all stand around him, taking cheap shots at Kal every time he tries to stand. Just then, a young skinny kid slides under the ropes and rushes Joe. He is rewarded with a kick to the stomach, and an uppercut that produces a very sickening thud. Murphy crumbles to the ground, and tries to get back up, but he is assaulted by Joe again, and dragged to the corner, where he is handcuffed to the ropes. The footage slows down and we can see Murphy tugging on the handcuffs to the point that his wrist starts to bleed, as he tries to get to Joe and stop them from hurting Kal. The footage stops.

Joe Montouri: You see that? You know what that is? That’s moxy, kid! This guy was nothing! He was nobody! He hadn’t even had his first fight yet! Looks like he hadn’t had his first meal yet, either. But he came for his boy out of love. A love he had for someone else more than he had for himself! And you know what’s sad? Look what that guy has become!

Footage of last weeks match with Eoin O’rourke begins and we see Murphy trying to, and then successfully tapping out to nothing, leaving Eoin victorious.

Joe Montouri: You see that? We started with a Murphy that was fearless, wreckless, and fuckless, and what do we have now? A Murphy that can’t even bear to fight! Why? Because just like he did to Sahara, Dickless Dane Rubbed Off on Murphy. But don’t worry, I’m going to set Murphy right, and then I’ll remove the curse that is Dickless Dane, and give him his life back! Maybe he’ll even get his girlfriend back! Maybe his own daughter will want to come see him! Maybe –

MDM: Maybe you should shut teh fuck up!

‘Shipping Up To Boston’ blasts and Murphy Doyle Maher bursts out of the entrance way. He flies down to the ring, slides in, and throws his shirt into the audience. Murphy and Joe exchange some words which are unfortunately not picked up by the OCCHI, and in a flash the two begin to throw left and right’s at each other. The bell pops and the fight becomes official. Joe tries to back Murphy off, but Murphy is unlike this crowd has ever seen him. He gets into the face of Joe, and begins to berate him, and suddenly, we see a very different Joe Mont, as well. Gone is the charming smile, and in its place is a stone face of a man who just decided what he was going to do. And for the first time ever, Murphy Doyle Maher and Joe Montouri were on the exact same page.

In what will be described as a fight for the ages, Murphy Dolye Maher and Joe Montouri took the other to a task that neither have had thrust upon them in a very long time. This was not a fight for pride. This was a fight for everything. For Murphy to prove he wasn’t the same kid from all those years ago, and for Joe Montouri to end the backslide he’s had over the last 3 weeks, and keep himself in the winners circle, and out of the losers title.

Over the course of the match, each man would go to extreme lengths to try and get the other to not just lay down for 3 seconds, but to give up completely and tap out. Joe Montouri would rely on UFC style chokes, while Murphy went for the legs with every attempt. Each attempt by both were genuine but unsuccessful. Each time they had the other in their grasp, the other would find a way to either reverse it, fight out of it, or make their way to the ropes. As much as the match dragged on, the crowd was invested, as each time one of them escaped, the moment before looked as if they were to tap out, and then didn’t at the last second. The audience both in attendance and at home watched held their breaths as their hand would come up to slap the mat, only to find strength hidden within to get them out and through.

This went on for almost 11 minutes, and by minute 12 both Joe and Murphy looked to be exhausted beyond their normal means. Each stood up doing their best to catch their breath before the next exchange that would almost certainly take it away again began. And then Joe got the upper hand, and looked to keep it.

Joe blocked and countered every attempt that Murphy made, answering with a left hand, a right hand, or an elbow. Joe had raised Murphy up at one point, holding a suplex position and dropping him into one hell of a brain buster. Joe sat up, smiling that smile New York loved so much, and stood up. But his smile faded as he turned to find Murphy already getting to his feet. His face read of both pain and anger, and while Joe knew which he wanted to be more dominant, he wasn’t so sure he was right. Murphy then smiled, and mouthed the words ‘my turn.’

Joe waved Murphy toward him, visibly favoring his left leg, which hurt from the amount of holds Murphy had applied to it, but also from holding Murphy’s weight in the air for as long as he did. Joe clearly wanted to remain still. Murphy who was holding his neck and tilting his head took this as a sign of weakness and ran at Joe. Joe jumped up at the same time that Murphy did and both of them landed brutal and well placed kicks to the other’s face. With each of them on their back, the 10 count began, and at 2, both began to stir. 

Murphy was to his knees by 4. 

Joe had one foot on the mat by 5

At 6 Murphy stood up and at 7 Joe leaped up to try and hit his Joe-KO driver, but his leg gave out and he fell flat. Murphy backed off and watched as Joe began to get back up, and then Murphy rushed. Kicking his leg to unstead him, Murphy leaped up into the air at the same time Joe bent down to grab his already swollen knee, and stuck his leg out right above Joe’s head. Coming down hard and with his hands on his knee there was no time to bring them up to his head to block, and because of his his face met the mat with a thud that left him motionless.

Murphy turned Joe over, hooked his leg, and 3 seconds later had passed the Queens title to it’s new, not-so-proud owner. As Murphy stood up victorious, he looked at the chairs in the front row that were meant for his soon to be disappointed daughter, and felt terrible for being greedy, but felt so much better being vengeful. He reached out and asked for the Queens belt, and once having it in his hand, spiked it down onto the mat right by Joe’s face, barely missing him.

MDM: long live the queen, arsehole.

Stepping out of the ring, Murphy walked to the back, unsure as to how he was going to make things ok for his daughter, while somewhere in the back, Asher Jules, who had taken up residency in the one bedroom apartment in Fight Tower that Murphy had lent him, suddenly realized; He had to move.

FYA all over again

Murphy made it back to his dressing room, and as the door opened, he found Kal Wolf inside. The two men greeted via their usual half handshake half hug, and Kal, with tears in his eyes, looked at Murphy. Not the Murphy that came out of prison, but the Murphy who’d went in, and up until tonight, had stayed there.

Kal Wolf: Good to see you.

MDM: Great to be seen.

Kal Wolf: So what’s the fucking plan? Ask for a raise? Fucking demand one?

Murphy thought about it. With Vin in HR, he could easily march upstairs and make a deal for just enough money to cover the tuition of his daughters school. But he wouldn’t. Why not? Because…

MDM: Wolves don’t ask. I’ll get the money by earning it. Here, elsewhere, or both. But I’m done taking the easy way.

Kal Wolf: And I’m right there with you, kid. All the fucking way.

Conflicted Interest

Paul Montuori stands outside of the Ramsey’s suite. He knocks on the door. After a few moments Todrick Tabor-Ramsey opens the door.

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: Paul! What are you doing here?

Paul Montuori: Gotta minute?

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: For you? Of course, come in.

Todrick opens the door and Paul walks in. Austin is sitting on the couch. He stands up when he sees Paul.

Austin Ramsey: Paul, what’s up?

Paul Montuori: Another great night at Venom. I’m going to cut to the chase here, I know you gotta get ready for Dickie. Which shouldn’t be an issue for you Todrick, the kid seems to be lost. Clown didn’t even know he was part of the Islands Champion. He’s been running around talking shit that I need to focus and get rid of distractions. Yet that clown doesn’t even know what’s going on in his life.

The Tabor-Ramsey’s just stare at Paul.

Paul Montuori: My bad, didn’t mean to cut a promo on DIckie.. So I need a fifth teammate for Ascension. You two have been nothing but awesome with me since we’ve met. You even helped get me cast on Moment in Life. So it was a no-brainer firstly to have you two come onboard Dynasty. Second, come aboard our team for Ascension.

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: We’d love to.

Austin Ramsey: You said a fifth, there’s two of us.

Paul Montuori: Yeah. So I gave it some thought. My first inclination was to have you Austin. But, no disrespect, seems you have a little man crush on my old running partner Brandon Moore. And he’s with the Cure, who we’re going up against at Ascension. I didn’t want to put you in any weird position. So Toddy, honey, you down to rep us at Ascension?

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: Absolutely.

Paul Montuori: Alright. After your match with Dickie, make sure you put a hurting on him for me, come up to the Dynasty suite.

Paul Montuori vs VooDoo

Not sure what anyone really expected from this match but what started out as a couple of ring veterans putting on a clinic rapidly devolved into Paul Montuori and VooDoo doing what they are best known for – making everyone else incredibly uncomfortable with sexual innuendo. 

Sure. Things started innocently enough when Paul grabbed a handful of VooDoo’s hair looking to do one of those wrestling moves that starts out with grabbing your opponent’s hair. But it was the throaty moan escaping her lips that turned this match from the fans getting to see a couple of professionals go at it to the fans getting to see a couple of professionals damn near go at it. Leave it to FIGHT to bring you what usually costs $9.99 a month with a subscription to Only Fans. Thank god we’re on cable. At the present, VooDoo had ridden Paul down hard to the mat straddling his hips with her lower body, her hands around his throat choking off his air supply looking to score a win by unconsciousness or asphyxiation. It seems like an unhinged move but honestly, after the tingling titty twisted Paul had given her moments before it’s not like anyone could really blame her for trying to choke him out. VooDoo had a look of triumph on her face as her eyes bore down into those of Paul’s until he managed to get his fingers under her hands just enough to whisper out what sounded suspiciously like “choke me daddy” at the redhead above him. 

With the quickness of a tilt-a-whirl manned by a carny on methamphetamines Paul was able to overthrow VooDoo to swap positions with her, he tried to dismount by simply rolling off of the woman below him but by that point VooDoo had her legs locked forcing Paul to find release the only way he could, by dragging his body up hers wiggling himself out of her legs and arms grip inch by inch making sure the Python made significant contact with her forehead has he finally maneuvered himself to a short lived freedom. Paul used the ropes to steady himself momentarily as VooDoo rose to her feet behind him, lunging forward while his back was still turned looking to take him from behind like a modern day Jack and Rose on the bow?? Stern?? Of the Titanic when Celine Dion is at full soprano. Unfortunately for VooDoo, and strikingly familiar to most women who have spent time with Paul Montuori, she would leave as unsatisfied as she arrived – her hopes of a win carrying her into Ascension dashed by the very woman she was set to face in just a few short weeks. Vhodka Black erupted over barricade behind VooDoo and Paul, slithering into the ring looking for what was likely her fourth happy ending of the night as she spun VooDoo around by the shoulder cold clocking her with a right hand that sent the redhead down on her back like Allison Riggs Preston after a taping of the Maury show. Paul looks torn as Vhodka winks at him and disappears through the crowd as quickly as she had come before he reluctantly makes the pin.

Dickie Watson vs Todrick Tabor-Ramsey

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey is walking to the gorilla position, two security guards flanking him.

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: Is this really necessary? Like, I’m gonna be there… and then it’ll be the match.

The security guards stop, look at each other, and then back at Todrick.

Security Guard 1: You know, I know it’s dumb, but we could lose our jobs.

Todrick Tabor-Ramsey: It’s just that, I need to take a comfort break… and I’m not comfortable with you guys in there. Can you wait outside?

They’re both uncomfortable, and look at each other, before shrugging and then nodding at Todrick.

Todrick smiles, and then turns toward the male bathroom, which he enters. As the security guards step either side of the door, another pair of security guards wander up to Toddy’s two.

New Security Guy: Hey, uh, what’s going on?

Security Guard 1: Oh, our guy is in their taking a leak.

New Security Guy: Uh, oh. Erm.. shit.

Security Guard 1: What? What is it?

Just then, a clattering sound is followed by scuffling, then loud noises.

Occhi jumps in.

Dickie Watson: Tell your buddy boy that you did a real good job putting a hurtin’ on me.

Todrick is face down in a toilet stall, toilet seat over his head. Dickie drives a boot into his back, then flushes.

Dickie Watson: And then tell him I’ll see him at Ascension.

And then Dickie looks up at the wall, where he knows Occhi is watching.

Dickie Watson: And Miss F, cancel this mismatch. If you’re trying to clean up your image, you don’t want an aggravated assault documented and canonized. Enough of the nicey-nice bullshit. Montuori, sack up.

Dickie puts his hand over the camera.

It's about to get TWIZTED in here!

J Mont comes around the corner like a bat out of hell. Like Jeff Gordon off the start line in a race. Like a Aroldis Chapman 100 mile per hour fast ball. Like Usain Bolt in a 100 meter race. He is on a mission and he is not alone. But he is not with P Mont, or Ricky, Austin, Todrick or even Michelle. He is with something that he must of created in his spare time. Its a Louisville Slugger decorated with long nails. From the barrel where you grip the bat to the top. Full of long sharp nails. There is just enough room on the bottom to grab with both hands and swing away.

J Mont: This BITCH has to go. I’m sorry Vincent buddy if this gives you more work in the HR office, but I know you would do the same thing if something happened to Vhodka.

Fast pacing, no more walking. He is making his way towards the ring. The Main Event is about to start and J Mont could give 2 shits about it. He stops for a brief moment. He steps up to the plate like he is batting. Take a look at the NAIL BAT and takes a practice swing. If he would have hit someone right then and there, it would have been a GRAND SLAM.

J Mont: I can’t wait to take her head off for what she did to Mia. She doesn’t realize what she started or did here. And then Dane will be right after. 2 for the price of 1. It’s like a Wednesday at carvel. Buy 1 sundae, get 1 free.

J Mont, now ready to make the real move. But just as he took about 4 big steps. Out of no where was FIGHT NYC Security. And not just 2 of them. There was 10 men and not one of them was short like Webster or skinny like Screech Powers. These were all well built men who must of been on stand by thanks to the big threats of J Mont all week about Sahara and breaking her legs.

J Mont: You guys have 2 options. Number 1- Get the fuck out of my way. or Number 2- Get NAILED.

Just after he said that, the FIGHT security all looked at one another and didn’t know what to do. I don’t think they signed up for a death sentence on a random Saturday night in NYC. J Mont starts making his way closer to them. The closer he got, they slowly started to back pedal a little. And this went on for what seemed like forever, but just for a few minutes.

J Mont: That’s right BITCHES. Keep backing up before you make the biggest mistake of your lives.

To show he was serious, J Mont swung that bat and all you could see is the shiny glare of all these nails. One of the security guards said “Fuck This” and left. Another one looked like he just pissed his pants. J Mont has yet to lay a hand on anyone and they are slowly fleeing away.

J Mont: Another one bites the DUST…..any one else wanna try to strike me out?

And just as he said the word OUT…..

ZAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

NYPD’s finest must of been called because there was 3 officers fully armed and ready for battle. Captain Morgan, what a great name too is the one who just Tasered J Mont from the back side. J Mont shaking, trying to fight it off. But after a while, there is only so much you can do. His hands, shaking as the NAIL BAT falls to the floor. FIGHT NYC security run over and retrieve the bat. That man takes the bat and leaves the scene. Meanwhile, the other men try to get J Mont up for the cops. J Mont is a man on a mission still. He starts to throw punches like a mad man. Just swinging away. He doesn’t care who he hits at this point. A few of the security went down. But a 9 on 1 for anyone is a no win situation. And then again.

ZAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

They tasered J Mont again. He goes down as the police rush over while the FIGHT security holds J Mont down. They got him face first on the ground. They take his arms behind his back and handcuff him. They then drag him up to his feet and read him his rights.

J Mont: FUCK YOU…. Call Lowrance Fisher. He will handle this. Some of you are going to be without jobs starting tomorrow morning.

J Mont is kicking, screaming, doing anything he can but he is outnumbered and handcuffed.

J Mont: So Sahara gets off Scott free for attacking someone and I don’t lay a hand on anyone and I get taken away. Your asses all will be fired and don’t call me for a job you fuckin assholes.

J Mont just a club to the rib cage which should shut him up for a minute. He is being escorted out of the Hearst Tower and Sahara will not be killed tonight it looks like. J Mont made the attempt but looks  like Fight NYC was ready for it.

Is J Mont locked up for a while?

Is he getting off with no penalty?

What does FIGHT NYC think about this?

Is Sahara scared now for what could happen?

Did Dynasty know J Mont was going to go this crazy?

Stay Tuned for more Information 

Apathy & Brandon Moore vs Sahara & Dane Preston

The entrances of both teams were, if you knew nothing about 4 of the biggest stars in the game today, indicative of who they were as people as well as a group. Brandon Moore and Apathy drenched in darkness with Tera-fied by Static X playing them out of the entrance and into the ring. And with Sahara and Preston, True Survivor by the Leo guy from YouTube boosted the adrenaline to the ceiling as Sahara and Preston, two members of FYA, walked to the ring. Their eyes peeled on their opponents, whispering to each other either some sort of game plan or some sort of commentary on the pair awaiting them.

Entering the ring on either side of the pair, Sahara and Preston meet in the middle and walk past each other, looking at their opponents without looking at each other. Moore chuckles, inspired by the intensity the other pair are giving off.

The two pairs took to their corner, and as they tried to decide who would go in first, Sahara and Preston were quickly attacked by Apathy and Moore, who were more than willing to make that decision for them. Dumping Dane out of the ring, Moore went to his corner, and Apathy treated Sahara to a series of flat hand slams to the chest before attempting to Irish whip her into her corner. Sahara threw on the breaks, stopping in front of Apathy, jumping up, and without turning, throwing her leg over her own shoulder and kicking Apathy in the face as she fell. 

Apathy stumbled backward, holding her hand, and almost caught a cheap right hand from Preston who had climbed back up onto the apron and swung wildly, but ultimately missing. Sahara grabbed the back of Apathy’s head and charged her to the turnbuckle adjacent, and attempted to smash her head into the top rungs pad, but Apathy put her foot out and kicked off, placing a solid elbow to Sahara’s jaw in the process.

As the two women turned to each other in the center of the ring, we could see the tension building between Sahara and Apathy, but also between Dane and Brandon. Not so much concerned with their counter parts, they bore holes into each other’s heads with their own gazes. Waiting for the chance to do more than just look.

Apathy and Sahara look at each other, each trying to wait out the other. But as these things go and impatience being a trait most professional wrestlers share, they both lashed out at the other and both had their attacks denied. Sahara having a kick caught and Apathy having her punch parried. Apathy tried to sweep the other leg out from under Sahara but she lifted it on her own and pushed it into Apathy’s chest, sending her backwards onto her heels.

The match would go this way for several minutes. Sahara and Apathy were both strong people with little resolve that wasn’t focused like a laser beam that only wanted to fuck someone up, and when it was aimed at something of similiar strength, the force it created was as blinding as the sun, but as attention drawing as a car crash on the highway.

So as they went toe to toe and handed each other a physical assault that both were used to handing out but not so used to getting, the crowd ate it up both in attendance and at home, expressing it via the Fight Crawl at the bottom of the screen, with gems such as “Sahara is Sahot right now” and “I don’t care about anyone but Apathy.”

The two combatants in the ring didn’t know this, though, and only knew that they were battling to be the last one standing. And after about 5 minutes of non-stop fighting, they finally decide to give it a rest and turn to their corners, tagging in their partners. Moore and Preston shoot out of their areas like rockets at each other, meeting in the middle with flurries of punches that are both landed and answered.

Brandon Moore came out of the exchange on top, backing Preston to the rope banks between his corner and the neutral one. Pinning Dane to the corner, he slammed into him with several fierce elbows that landed on his collar bone like the way a hammer falls on a foot. Painfully, and with damage done visibly.

On the fourth one, Dane shot out and grabbed Brandon by the neck, backing him off and taking him for a walk filled with knees to his chest and stomach, the places Dane most likely stained Sahara during their get together a few weeks back.

Reaching the middle of the ring, Dane scooped Brandon up, looking to deliver a sideways slam of some sort, but had the move cut short as Brandon drove his elbow and his knee into the respective sides of Dane’s head at the same time, knocking him for a loop and to the ground on his ass.

Dane had just shaken off the cobwebs when Brandon shoots off the ropes and drove a knee into his head Dane, laying him out on the mat the way a sandbag falls to the ground when dropped. With an accepting thump.

Sahara rushes into the ring and kicks Brandon in the side, to which Apathy also rushes the ring, and the entire match quickly devolves into madness as Dane takes the moment to try and get his second win, but is shut down by Brandon. Sahara gets the better of Apathy and takes her to the floor, applying a triangle choke hold onto Apathy. Brandon kicks Dane in the stomach hard and sends him flopping to the ground on his knees. Dane reaches out and grabs the middle rope and starts to get back up when Brandon Moore decides to FYF Dane right out of the ring, hitting him so hard that even Moore is outside the ring after contact. 

Sahara knows that neither are the legal combatant but that doesn’t stop her from trying to make apathy tap. Apathy starts to worm free, when Brandon Moore, who slide in behind Sahara, grabbed a handful of said Sahara’s Sahair, and pulled her to her feet, breaking the hold. Pulling Sahara to the corner, he lifts her up and dumps her out of the ring. Helping Apathy up, he nods toward Dane, but as he steps forward, Apathy falls down. Sahara rose to her feet just as soon as she hit the floor and grabbed at Brandon, but settled for Apathy. Dragging her out of the ring and reigniting their private fight. 

Dane rolled inside the ring and Brandon paced spring him. As he stood up, Moore spun and sent him right back down with his Disasterpiece spinning kick which caused the crowd to “Oooooh” and for Dane to go thud. 

Covering, Brandon watches as Sahara tries to get across the ring but has her foot grabbed by Apathy. Apathy gives Sahara the karma she just earned, and Brandon gives their team the W.

Winner by Pinfall: Brandon Moore and Apathy.

Trust The Process

Miss F stands in front of her desk. She’s broadcasting to every room in the Tower.

Miss F: Thank you, for your patience. We know it has been, as Xavier put it, a “shit show” at times. People slipping their detail, matches getting cancelled last minute, things going sideways. We are not oblivious. We know. We have our eyes wide open to the ones that contribute to it, the ones that suffer for it. FIGHT! NYC thinks of everything. The past two weeks on Lockdown, things have been variously impacted. Some for better, some for worse. 

We now know the full team for FYA, for Dynasty and for The Cure. Next week, at Venom 10 we will have the fifth member of New Status Quo confirmed at the top of the show when that member will be in attendance.

We also know that on the first night of ASCENSION, right here in FIGHT! Tower, we will have our EMPIRE Championship on the line in the main event when Dickie Watson defends his belt against Paul Montuori. We also know that Druscilla White will challenge Sarah Wolf for the Bareknuckle Championship downstairs in the Pit. We know that there are active bids in play for both the Brooklyn Champion – Mason Alexander Vanderbilt, and the Bronx Champion, Miss Michelle.

Things are falling into place. Repercussions have been approved by Xavier Black.

VENOM #10 WILL GO OFF WITHOUT A HITCH

No cancelled matches. No sneak attacks. No interference or otherwise improper play.

Lockdown is over. Enjoy your freedom.

Like I said, we know everything, we see everything.

Do not let us down.

Static.