(The EMF logo flashes on the screen.)
(The darken arena opens up as pyrotechnics blasts on the stage, the lights turn on as fans yell, and wave their signs. The lights turn on, and fans yell, and wave their signs. We zoom out to display the location information, we into a final sweep of the crowd as the commentators speak over the shot.)
JR-Welcome to Saturday Shockwave, I’m good ol’ JR, Jim Ross. I’m joined by Jerry “the King” Lawler, and Kris “KG” Gaffney.
King-Tonight the IC championship is on the line.
Kris Gaffney-Mansa Carthage puts his title on the line against Joey Bellarosa, and Fenrir Kaine.
JR-Let’s get started with the first match of the night.
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[As the opening beats of "Protect Ya Neck" by Wu-Tang Clan start to resonate throughout the arena, the lights dim to a moody, understated ambiance. A single spotlight focuses on the entrance ramp, creating a sense of anticipation and mystery.]
[The titantron flickers to life, displaying a montage of New York City’s shadowy streets and skylines, setting the stage for Billy Breeze’s entrance. The screen then transitions to a spectral figure moving through the darkness, New Yorks own vigilante, The Crimson Wraith.]
[Suddenly, a soft, blue glow illuminates the ramp, casting a cool, ghostly light. A thin layer of fog creeps along the floor, adding to the spectral atmosphere, suggesting the presence of something or someone not quite of this world.]
[Then, emerging from the back, Billy Breeze strolls out nonchalantly, his demeanor calm and composed, but with a readiness that you cannot train for. He’s dressed in his signature ring gear, exuding a quiet confidence. Rex "Retro" Savage follows behind, his flamboyant attire contrasting with Billy’s simplicity, playing up to the crowd and hyping them up.]
Beautiful female announcer: "Hailing from the shadows of New York City, here is the enigmatic, the unpredictable... Specter, Billy Breeze!"
[Billy’s walk to the ring is unhurried, his eyes scanning the crowd with a detached yet intense gaze. The spotlight follows him, keeping him the focal point amidst the dimly lit arena. He occasionally pauses, giving the audience a nod or a slight smirk, but his silence speaks volumes.]
[Upon reaching the ring, Billy slides in effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise. Rex "Retro" Savage takes a position at ringside, continuing to interact with the crowd and serve as Billy's charismatic mouthpiece.]
[The music and lights subtly shift as Billy prepares for the match, the fog dissipating and the spotlight fading, leaving Billy in the ring, a figure both enigmatic and ready for combat, as the arena buzzes with excitement for the upcoming match.]
Jim Ross: Billy Breeze brings energy every time out, and he is going to need all of it against a man as methodical as The Dungeon Master.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Energy is great until someone turns the lights out, JR. The Dungeon Master specializes in power outages.
Kris Gaffney: Sure hope Breeze has been simulating this match in his video games.
Jim Ross: The Dungeon Master does not waste movement, and he does not waste chances. He is a dangerous, calculating opponent.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is because he reads the manual before the rest of us even open the box.
[The referee calls both men in, gives the usual instructions, and gets a respectful nod from Breeze while The Dungeon Master barely seems to listen. The bell rings and Breeze immediately starts bouncing, circling light on his feet, flicking little feints with his shoulders to test reactions. The Dungeon Master glides after him with patient hands. Breeze darts in first with a quick forearm to the jaw, then slips away before a grab can come. He comes right back with a low kick to the thigh and a second forearm that snaps the Master’s head just enough to get the crowd buzzing. Breeze hits the ropes, springs back, and lands a running dropkick to the chest that pushes The Dungeon Master a step backward. ]
Jim Ross: Smart start by Billy Breeze. Hit and move, keep the bigger man guessing.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Or annoy him into doing something terrible. That is a strategy too.
Kris Gafney: Poke the wizard, see what curse comes out.
[Breeze keeps the pace high, darting in with a chop, then slipping behind for a quick waistlock before switching to a side headlock. The Dungeon Master shoves him off to the ropes, but Breeze rebounds into a sharp shoulder block that barely moves the bigger man. Breeze keeps running, ducks under a lazy swing, springs off the middle rope, and whips around with a springboard back elbow that lands flush enough to finally rock The Dungeon Master into the ropes. Breeze sees the opening and charges, but the Master yanks the top rope down and sends him tumbling awkwardly to the apron. Before Breeze can fully recover, The Dungeon Master drives a forearm across the throat through the ropes and leans hard, milking the referee’s count before backing off at four.]
Jim Ross: There it is. That little bend in the rules is where The Dungeon Master starts building an unfair fight.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: It is not unfair if the referee counts to five, JR. That is just excellent time management.
Kris Gafney: He treats the rulebook like a buffet. Sample a little of everything.
[The Dungeon Master drags Breeze back inside by the wrist and instantly twists into a standing arm wringer, torquing the shoulder before yanking Breeze down into a grounded hammerlock. Breeze squirms, gets a knee under himself, and tries to roll through, but the Master keeps a heavy forearm pressed across the back of the neck, flattening him again. He transitions smoothly, trapping the arm under his leg and bending the wrist while grinding his elbow across Breeze’s jaw. Billy kicks and twists, reaching for ropes, but The Dungeon Master calmly pulls him back toward center and drops a knee into the shoulder blade. He then hauls Breeze up by the arm and whips him chest first into the buckles. Breeze stumbles backward and gets dropped with a short arm lariat. Cover. One, two, Breeze kicks out.]
Jim Ross: The Dungeon Master has dragged this match into his kind of pace now, and that is a bad sign for Billy Breeze.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Breeze wanted a dance. The Dungeon Master switched it to a slow song and stepped on his foot.
Kris Gafney: This tempo comes with a limp.
[Breeze pushes up, shaking feeling back into his arm, and fires a few quick body shots to buy space. The Dungeon Master answers with a knee lift to the ribs, then cinches a front facelock and snaps him over with a suplex that lands hard and flat. He floats right into a grounded guillotine, legs spread wide for balance, forcing Breeze to carry the weight of both the hold and his own panic. Breeze flails for a second, then plants a boot and begins to build upward, trying to stack the shoulders. The Master adjusts and cranks tighter, but Breeze finally gets enough leverage to force a quick one count that breaks the hold. Both men scramble up and Breeze lands first, firing a flurry of forearms, then a thrust kick to the chest that sends the hooded figure into the corner. Breeze sprints in with a corner clothesline, hops to the second rope, and rains down right hands as the crowd counts along. He hits six before The Dungeon Master shoves him off hard enough to send him flipping backward onto the mat.]
Jim Ross: Good burst from Billy Breeze. He needed that.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Needed it, yes. Kept it, no.
Kris Gafney: Momentum is a rental car. Read the return policy.
[The Dungeon Master storms out of the corner and Breeze catches him with a drop toe hold that bounces his face off the middle buckle. Breeze springs to the apron, measures quickly, and slingshots in with a flying leg drop across the back of the head. Cover. One, two, The Dungeon Master powers out and sits up with a glare sharp enough to freeze the front row. Breeze does not back down. He runs the ropes and tries for a flying forearm, but The Dungeon Master catches him in midair, turns, and drives him down with a release backbreaker that folds him cruelly across the knee. Breeze spills to the canvas clutching at his lower back while The Dungeon Master rises slowly, every movement measured again.]
Jim Ross: What a counter. Billy Breeze flew right into disaster.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is why I prefer walking. Less landing.
Kris Gafney: He just turned air traffic into roadkill.
[The Dungeon Master senses control returning and begins to pick Breeze apart. He stomps once on the ribs, once on the hand, then drags Billy up by the chin and slings him into the ropes for a snapping kitchen sink knee that turns him inside out. He covers again and gets two before Breeze forces a shoulder up. The Master stays right on him, threading both arms from behind into a straightjacket hold and wrenching back while leaning one knee between the shoulders. Breeze grimaces, tries to rock his hips, and finally gets one foot under himself before snapping backward with a mule kick that catches the Master in the shin. That buys a sliver of freedom. Breeze spins out and lands a desperation enzuigiri to the side of the head. The Master drops to one knee. Breeze sees his one big chance.]
Jim Ross: Here is the window for Billy Breeze. It may be his last clean one.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Then he better decorate it fast.
Kris Gafney: Open concept offense.
[Breeze hits the ropes, leaps to the middle strand, and comes off with a twisting crossbody that flattens The Dungeon Master at center ring. He rolls through, pops up, and catches him rising with a sling blade that gets the crowd roaring. Breeze climbs quickly to the top rope, points to the fans, and launches with a high flying splash. The Dungeon Master rolls aside at the last instant and Breeze crashes chest first into the canvas. The impact sucks the life from the building for half a beat. The Dungeon Master rises behind him with eerie calm, hauls Breeze upright by the wrists, and hooks both arms deep under his own.]
Jim Ross: That miss may have sealed it.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Gravity remains the most reliable tag partner in the business.
Kris Gafney: Breeze just paid express shipping on regret.
[The Dungeon Master tightens the double underhook, lifts Billy Breeze off his feet, and turns him sharply into the Critical Hit, spiking him with a sudden, violent snap that leaves Breeze sprawled and motionless on impact. The Master does not rush the cover. He kneels beside Breeze for one cold second, then drapes over him, hooking the far leg tight while pressing a forearm across the jaw. The referee slides into place and counts one, two, three.]
Jim Ross: The Dungeon Master gets the win. Billy Breeze brought speed and heart, but one mistake was all it took.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: One mistake against a man like that is usually one too many.
Kris Gafney: Breeze caught the bad roll and the worse landing.
(“The duck song” blasts on the PA system as Ashley Irvine skips out dressed as Walter Melon she falls in a hole in the stage as she yells “WATERMELON”. Walter Melon walks out on the stage, and he walks down to the ring, he steps inside of the ring
Jim Ross: Walter Melon may look like comic relief at first glance, but that is dangerous thinking. A triple threat match is chaos by design, and a man who embraces chaos can make himself a real problem.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: I embrace chaos every time I open a buffet menu, JR. Walter looks like he does too.
Kris Gafney: He is either here to wrestle or cater. Honestly, I am keeping an open mind.
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The arena lights dim, and the opening beats of NSYNC's "Bye Bye Bye" blast through the speakers. As soon as the first note hits, bright spotlights flash in sync with the music, and a thick cloud of smoke rises from the stage. The crowd immediately erupts in a mix of cheers and laughter, knowing they’re in for something special. As the beat drops, multicolored fireworks explode around the stage, and through the smoke, Patrick Payne bursts out, dancing his way onto the stage like he’s straight out of a 90s boy band video. Patrick starts hitting the iconic "Bye Bye Bye" choreography, exaggerated and dripping with his own flavor. He smirks at the camera, pointing at random fans in the crowd, and moving with the beat like he’s starring in his own music video. He stops midway down the ramp, faking a pause, and then launches back into the dance, arms waving and hips moving as the crowd sings along to the chorus.
EMF Ring Announcer: From wherever he damn well pleases, standing 6 feet 1 inch tall, weighing in at 210 pounds he is the unpredictable, the unstoppable, Patrick ˜The PP Express Payne!!!
As the music continues, the lights flash in rhythm, and Patrick slides into the spotlight, twirling and dipping to the beat. Nearing the ring, he stops for a second, tilts his head toward the camera, and breaks into a final burst of the dance, fully embracing the ridiculousness of it all. Without breaking his flow, he leaps over the top rope with a fluid, acrobatic jump, landing in a perfect roll before bouncing right back into the Bye Bye Bye dance inside the ring. Patrick moves effortlessly, finishing his routine by running up the turnbuckle, arms wide, and executing a picture-perfect backflip off the top rope. As his feet hit the mat, he drops into a flawless superhero landing, kneeling down, one fist on the ground, with a cocky grin stretched across his face. He rises slowly, arms outstretched, soaking in the crowd’s reaction, while the music fades and the lights settle back to normal. The camera zooms in as Patrick winks at the audience, mouthing, "You’re welcome!" before leaning casually against the ropes, waiting for his match to begin.Jim Ross: Patrick Payne looks like he has already decided he is the smartest man in this match.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: He might be. Confidence is usually a sign of intelligence.
Kris Gafney: Or a sign that somebody is about to get fruit thrown at them. Metaphorically. Probably.
[Then the arena changes all over again as Roman Reigns steps through the curtain to a huge, thunderous reaction that splits into cheers, boos, awe, and raw energy all at once. Roman does not rush. He stands at the top of the stage, chin raised, eyes locked on the ring, and takes in the noise like it belongs to him. He lifts one hand, palm down, demanding quiet that never fully comes, then starts the long, deliberate walk to the ring with that same cold authority that makes every step feel important. Walter watches from the ring with a mix of curiosity and caution. Payne paces and talks trash, but Roman does not look at either man for more than a second at a time. At ringside he circles once, climbs the steps, and stands on the apron like a king surveying his territory before stepping through the ropes. Roman walks straight to center ring, never acknowledging the tension around him because he assumes he is the tension around him.]
Jim Ross: Roman Reigns has a presence that changes a match before the bell ever rings.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: He walks like the ending is already printed.
Kris Gafney: If confidence were a tax bracket, Roman is in a different one.
[The referee calls all three men together and gives the instructions. Patrick Payne keeps running his mouth. Walter Melon nods and throws a wink toward the front row. Roman barely blinks. The bell rings.]
[Payne instantly backs up and motions for Roman and Walter to fight each other, pointing to his own head like he is the strategist in the room. Walter looks at Roman, then at Payne, then shrugs and charges Patrick instead. The crowd roars as Walter barrels into Payne with a body block that smashes him into the corner. Walter unloads with open hand smacks to the chest, one after another, while Payne flails and tries to cover up. Roman watches for one beat too long, amused, and Walter suddenly turns and swings a wild back elbow that clips Roman on the jaw and knocks him a step backward. Walter grins huge, realizes what he just did, and points at Roman as if inviting him to bring it.]
Jim Ross: Walter Melon starting with no fear and maybe no survival instinct either.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: He just tagged the bear on the nose.
Kris Gafney: Technically the bear is Samoan, but yes, this feels medically adventurous.
[Roman steps forward and Walter tries another surprise attack, firing a couple of quick forearms to the chest. Roman absorbs them, then plants a heavy right hand to Walter’s ribs that folds him instantly. Roman follows with a short clothesline that drops Walter flat. Payne rushes in from behind, trying to capitalize with stomps to Roman’s back, then hooks a side headlock to slow him down. Roman powers out and shoves Payne to the ropes, then lowers a shoulder and absolutely mows him down in the center of the ring. Walter rolls to the outside to regroup while Roman stands tall over Payne, glaring down at him with visible contempt.]
Jim Ross: Roman Reigns cleaning house early.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: He just reminded both men that there are weight classes to life.
Kris Gafney: Roman is handing out physics lessons and nobody brought a calculator.
[Payne rolls to a corner and quickly starts trying to talk Roman into an alliance, pointing out Walter on the floor and motioning that they can get rid of the easy target first. Roman does not answer. He simply walks toward Payne and Patrick tries to cheap shot him with a thumb to the eye. Roman’s head jerks back just enough. Payne bounces off the ropes and tries a running lariat. Roman ducks, spins, and catches him with a massive uppercut that sends Payne spilling through the ropes to the floor beside Walter. Roman hits the far ropes and charges with the drive by, blasting Payne’s head against the apron edge just as Patrick tries to stand. Walter barely avoids the collateral damage and scrambles backward on the floor, eyes wide.]
Jim Ross: Roman with that drive by and Patrick Payne is in bad shape already.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is why you do not poke the emperor in the eye unless you finish the job.
Kris Gafney: Payne just got evicted from his own strategy.
[Roman steps out to the floor and grabs Walter Melon by the head, hauling him upright. Walter throws a panicked series of body punches that actually get a laugh from the audience, but Roman silences that with a headbutt that rocks Walter into the barricade. Payne sees Roman occupied and rushes in with a chop block from behind, finally taking Roman off his feet. Payne pounds the back of Roman’s shoulders, then bounces him face first off the ring post and quickly rolls inside, urging the referee to count while both opponents are outside. The crowd rains boos down on him as Payne paces inside the ring and smugly points to his own head again.]
Jim Ross: Here we go. Patrick Payne trying to win this thing with pure opportunism.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is called being smarter than the room, JR.
Kris Gafney: The room would like to file a complaint.
[Roman beats the count back to the apron at four, Walter at six, and Payne rushes over to stomp at both men as they try to re-enter. He catches Walter first with a knee to the chest, then Roman with clubbing forearms to the back. Payne decides to focus on Walter, seeing him as the easier prey, and whips him hard into the corner. Walter stumbles out and Payne plants him with a snap powerslam, then hooks the leg for a cover. Roman dives across and breaks it up before two. Payne springs up furious and starts throwing right hands at Roman. Roman answers with a straight shot to the jaw, then another, then a violent whip that sends Payne crashing into the turnbuckles so hard the ring shudders.]
Jim Ross: Roman with those heavy hands. Once he gets rolling, it is like being trapped in a storm.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: A storm with abs.
Kris Gafney: Somewhere a weather app just sent out an alert for scattered spears.
[Walter Melon sneaks into the picture again by grabbing Roman from behind in a waistlock. Roman barely reacts at first, so Walter starts bouncing up and down, trying to lift him, and the crowd erupts laughing. Walter gives up on the suplex and instead rams Roman backward into Payne in the corner, sandwiching Payne in the process. Walter then runs to the opposite side, comes back with a full head of steam, and splashes both men in the corner. Payne collapses to a seated position. Roman staggers out. Walter throws both hands up like a conquering hero and the crowd pops for the upset momentum.]
Jim Ross: Walter Melon creating chaos exactly the way he needs to.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: I hate to admit it, but that was effective. Ridiculous, but effective.
Kris Gafney: Weaponized enthusiasm.
[Walter strikes while the iron is hot. He clotheslines Roman over the top rope to the apron, then turns and sits on Patrick Payne with a running splash that gets a huge reaction. He hooks both of Payne’s legs for a pin and nearly steals it before Roman slides back in and yanks Walter off by the waistband. Roman shoves Walter toward the ropes and Walter rebounds into a spinning side slam that flattens him. Roman covers Walter. Payne breaks it up with a stomp to Roman’s back. Payne then tries to steal a pin of his own on Walter, but Roman drags him off before one and throws him halfway across the ring with sheer force.]
Jim Ross: Near fall after near fall. That is triple threat wrestling at its most dangerous.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Everybody is stealing everybody else’s homework.
Kris Gafney: And Roman looks ready to eat the textbook.
[Payne bails to the apron, catching his breath and trying to time his next opening. Roman stalks Walter Melon and drags him up by the arm. Walter surprises him with a jawbreaker that buys some space, then fires a pair of quick forearms and a thrust kick that actually backs Roman into the ropes. The crowd starts to believe again for a second. Walter charges for a clothesline, but Roman lowers his body and launches Walter over the top rope to the floor with a back body drop that sends him tumbling hard near the announce area. The audience groans, then rises, because Roman has turned right into Patrick Payne, who springboards in with a flying forearm. Roman catches him in midair and swings him down into a Samoan drop that rattles the ring.]
Jim Ross: Samoan drop by Roman Reigns, right on the money.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Patrick Payne just got express shipping to regret.
Kris Gafney: Signed for it with his spine.
[Roman rises slow, chest heaving, and looks out toward the crowd. They know what is coming before Patrick Payne even starts moving. Roman backs into the corner and raises the fist. Payne crawls up on one knee, dazed, and Roman charges across the ring into a Superman Punch that lands flush and sends Payne collapsing backward in a heap. Roman drops to one knee for a second after impact, glaring down at him. On the floor, Walter Melon begins to stir and drag himself onto the apron.]
Jim Ross: Superman Punch! Roman may have just knocked Patrick Payne into next week.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: I think Payne just met tomorrow early.
Kris Gafney: Frequent flyer miles to dreamland.
[Roman sees Walter climbing back in and changes course for a moment. Walter gets one leg through the ropes and Roman stomps him back out to the apron, then hammers him with a forearm that sends him dropping to the floor again. Roman does not chase. He turns back inward, eyes locked on Patrick Payne, who is trying and failing to stand. The crowd rises to its feet in one collective motion as Roman lowers himself into the corner again, both hands on the mat, body coiled.]
Jim Ross: You can feel it now. Roman is about to end this thing.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: And somewhere Walter Melon is reconsidering every life choice that led him to ringside.
Kris Gafney: Roman is crouched like a mortgage payment. You know it is coming and you still hate it.
[Payne gets to his feet on instinct, not awareness. Roman explodes out of the corner and cuts him in half with a Spear that folds Patrick so violently the entire ring seems to jump. The crowd erupts. Roman rolls through the impact, turns Payne onto his back, and hooks both legs deep. On the outside, Walter dives toward the apron, trying to scramble in, but he is a full step too late. The referee counts one. Two. Three.]
Jim Ross: Spear! Spear by Roman Reigns and that is all she wrote!
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is what finishing a sentence looks like, JR.
Kris Gafney: Roman just used Patrick Payne as punctuation.
[The bell rings and Roman rises slowly, breathing hard but looking completely certain that the world has reset itself to the correct order. Walter Melon slumps against the apron from the outside, disappointed he could not break it up in time but still visibly alive in the match much longer than many expected. Patrick Payne lies flat on the mat, one hand draped over his ribs, staring at the lights with the kind of bitter disbelief only a heel can wear properly. The referee raises Roman’s arm high at center ring, and Roman accepts it for a moment before pulling free and lifting his own hand even higher.]
Jim Ross: Roman Reigns wins this triple threat by pinning Patrick Payne after a devastating Spear. Walter Melon had moments, Patrick Payne had schemes, but Roman Reigns had the final word.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Winners act like winners, and Roman acted like the whole building belonged to him.
Kris Gafney: Walter brought chaos, Payne brought shortcuts, Roman brought the ending.
[Roman steps to the ropes and looks out across the crowd, soaking in the wall of sound from every direction. He taps his chest once, then points out into the arena as if daring anyone to question what just happened. On the floor, Walter Melon pulls himself to his feet and gives Roman a grudging nod before backing away, his face saying that for a moment he thought he might just steal the impossible. Inside the ring, Patrick Payne pounds the mat in frustration and rolls to the apron, already complaining about timing and circumstances and anything else besides the truth. Roman does not acknowledge either man now. He stands tall at center ring, shoulders squared, as the camera widens and the crowd keeps roaring around him.]
Jim Ross: Official result, Roman Reigns defeats Walter Melon and Patrick Payne in a triple threat match.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Acknowledge it.
Kris Gafney: Consider it officially acknowledged.
[The final image is Roman Reigns standing alone in the center of the ring, arm raised, while one beaten opponent rolls away and the other regroups at ringside, both left to absorb the same hard lesson. When Roman is in the match, sometimes the ending feels less like a surprise and more like gravity.]
(Lights go black and then “Twilight of the Thunder God” by Amon Amarth explodes through the arena speakers. The crowd erupts as red, white, and blue lights flash violently around the Capital One Arena while sparks rain from the ceiling. The camera cuts up into the stands where halfway down the steps stands Jackson Gunner, the EMF Television Championship draped across his shoulder while he grips the strap of his half of the Tag Team Championship, the belt hanging down his back. The fans roar when they see him. Jackson rips off his tank top and throws it into the crowd. He pounds his chest with a roar and throws his arms up into the air in a massive X formation, both titles glinting in the lights. Gunner begins walking down the stairs through the fans, slapping hands and feeding off the energy.)*
Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen… on his way to the ring… fighting out of Honolulu, Hawaii… standing 6’4” and weighing 250 pounds… he is the EMF Television Champion and one half of the EMF Tag Team Champions… JACKSON “KOA KOA” GUNNER!
(Jackson continues down the steps, fans reaching over the rails to touch the champion as he approaches the barricade. He reaches the floor level, easily vaults over the barricade, and turns back to the crowd, beating his chest again with a roar. The crowd answers him with an even louder reaction. Jackson turns toward the ring, adjusts the titles across his shoulder and back, and begins walking forward…)
CRACK!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
(Out of nowhere Azar Vulcan rushes in from the side and smashes Jackson across the skull with a twisted, blackened cane-like weapon—more like a demonic scepter, its handle carved with jagged runic designs and a wicked metal head shaped like a horned devil’s skull. Jackson collapses forward, dropping to one knee as the crowd erupts in shocked boos.)
JR: BAH GAWD! Azar Vulcan just blindsided Jackson Gunner!
King: And I love it! That’s what Jackson gets for hanging around Tony Ikeda! This whole mess is Tony’s fault!
KG: The Melon Gods must be demanding chaos tonight, JR!
(Azar stands over Jackson breathing heavily, his face twisted with rage. He raises the dark weapon again and brings it crashing down across Jackson’s back. Gunner groans and rolls onto his side, trying to push himself up, but Azar brings the weapon down again across Jackson’s shoulder before tossing the sinister object aside. Azar grabs Jackson by the hair and hauls him to his feet. Jackson swings a wild right hand, but Azar ducks it and blasts him with a brutal Muay Thai elbow across the jaw. Jackson staggers backward… Azar grabs Jackson by the arm and violently whips him straight into the steel barricade. Jackson crashes spine-first into the metal with a sickening clang and slumps forward.)
JR: Azar Vulcan is attacking like a man possessed!
King: Of course he is! Tony Ikeda stole the World Championship from him at Payback! This is what happens when you embarrass the Best in the World!
KG: I think the Melon Gods wanted blood tonight, King!
(Azar stalks over, grabs Jackson again and drags him up by the head. Gunner is barely standing as Azar shoves him forward and launches him across ringside…)
CRASH!
(Jackson slams hard into the announce table, collapsing across the surface as microphones rattle and papers scatter everywhere. Azar stands over him breathing heavily, eyes burning with fury as the crowd rains down boos. Jackson lies sprawled across the announce table, barely moving after crashing into it. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth from the vicious elbow Azar landed moments earlier. Azar stalks over slowly, breathing heavily, rage burning in his eyes. Azar grabs Jackson by the hair and drags him upright, propping him up across the announce table. Jackson’s head lolls to the side as Azar climbs onto the table with him.)
JR: BAH GAWD! Azar Vulcan isn’t stopping! This match hasn’t even started yet!
King: Good! Jackson and Tony Ikeda brought this on themselves!
KG: The Melon Gods demand sacrifice tonight, JR!
(Azar straddles Jackson on the table and begins unloading with vicious Muay Thai elbows.)
CRACK!
(First elbow smashes across Jackson’s jaw. Blood sprays from Gunner’s mouth.)
CRACK!
(Second elbow lands even harder, Jackson’s head snapping to the side.)
CRACK!
(A third brutal elbow crashes into Jackson’s jaw, Gunner coughing and spitting more blood as the crowd roars in outrage.)
JR: My God! Those elbows are caving his face in!
(Azar stands up on the table, staring down at Jackson’s bloodied face. He hops down to the floor, turns, and suddenly sprints toward the ring. Azar slides under the bottom rope and pops to his feet, immediately hitting the opposite ropes for speed. He rebounds at full speed, leaps onto the middle rope, springs upward… and launches himself into a twisting springboard moonsault that crashes down onto Jackson’s body.)
CRASHHHHH!!
(The announce table explodes beneath them as both men crash through it in splinters and broken monitors.)
Crowd: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
JR: BAH GAWD! THEY JUST DESTROYED THE TABLE!
King: That’s the Devil Himself right there!
KG: The Melon Gods love destruction, JR!
(Azar slowly rolls out of the wreckage, breathing heavily as Jackson lies buried in the broken remains of the table. Azar stands up, reaches down, and violently rips his own shirt off. He bends over Jackson, who is barely conscious, blood still on his mouth and chin. Azar brushes his hand across Jackson’s face, smearing the blood across his fingers… then slowly drags it across his own chest, painting himself with it.)
Crowd: YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK!
(Azar shoves Jackson under the bottom rope and into the ring before sliding in after him. Inside the ring, Azar storms toward the referee, grabbing him by the collar.)
Azar: “Ring the fucking bell.”
(The referee looks unsure, glancing down at Jackson, who is barely moving on the mat. Jackson crawls toward the ropes, grabbing them and slowly pulling himself up, blood dripping down his chin. Azar shoves the referee again, furious.)
Azar: “I said ring the fucking bell!”
(The referee hesitates and kneels beside Jackson.)
Ref: “Jackson… can you continue?”
(Jackson wipes blood from his mouth and eyes, nodding slowly as he grips the ropes.)
Jackson: “Yeah… I’m ready.”
(Jackson drags himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he turns toward Azar.)*
DING! DING! DING!
(The bell barely finishes echoing through the arena before Azar explodes forward. Jackson is still trying to steady himself near the ropes when Azar spins with terrifying speed…)
CRACK!
(THE MONEY MAKER! connects flush across Jackson’s jaw. Gunner’s head snaps sideways and he collapses instantly to the mat.)
JR: BAH GAWD! The Money Maker! The match just started!
(Azar drops into the cover immediately, hooking the leg.)
Ref: ONE!... TWO!... THHHHRRRRR
(Jackson barely manages to drag his foot onto the bottom rope. The referee waves it off, pointing to the rope.)
JR: Jackson Gunner got the rope! He got the rope!
(Azar sits up in disbelief, slamming his hand against the canvas.)
King: What?! How did he survive that?!
(Azar rises to his feet, furious, holding three fingers in the referee’s face.)
Azar: “That was three!”
(The referee shakes his head and points to the rope again. Azar storms forward, getting nose-to-nose with the official.)
Azar: “Do your fucking job!”
(Azar shoves past the referee and turns back toward Jackson, who is still trying to breathe, blood staining the mat beneath him. Azar grabs the top rope and begins viciously stomping down on Jackson’s ribs and chest.)
THUD! THUD! THUD!
(Jackson curls inward, trying to shield himself.)
Ref: “Let go of the ropes!”
Ref: “ONE!”
(Azar stomps again.)
Ref: “TWO!”
(Another brutal stomp to the chest.)
Ref:** “THREE!”
(Azar keeps stomping.)
Ref: “FOUR!”
(Right before the referee reaches five, Azar releases the ropes and slowly raises his middle finger to the official.)
King: That’s the confidence of the Best in the World right there! Strategic genius!
(Azar looks down at Jackson, who lies bloodied and breathing heavily on the canvas. A cruel, devilish smile creeps across Azar’s face. He bends down and grabs Jackson by the head, dragging him up to his feet before violently shoving him into the turnbuckle.)
BAM!
(Azar lunges forward and drives a vicious elbow into Jackson’s face. Jackson staggers forward out of the corner. Azar immediately buries a brutal knee into Jackson’s stomach.)
THUD!
(Jackson folds over, gasping for air. Azar pulls him into a Muay Thai clinch.)
THUD!
(First devastating knee drives into Jackson’s gut.)
THUD!
(Second knee slams into his ribs.)
(Jackson drops to a knee. Azar yanks him upright and fires a savage European uppercut.)
CRACK!
(Jackson flips backward and crashes onto the mat. Azar immediately dives into another cover.)
Ref: ONE!... TWO!... THHHHHRRRRR
(Jackson barely kicks out.)
JR: BAH GAWD! Jackson Gunner refuses to stay down!
(Azar sits up slowly, smirking, Jackson’s blood smeared across his chest and face as he stares down at his fallen opponent. Azar slowly rises from the canvas, wiping Jackson’s blood across his chest with a twisted smirk before standing. He glances up toward the corner, then climbs the turnbuckles with deliberate confidence.)
JR: “Azar Vulcan heading up top now—this man is as dangerous in the air as he is on the ground!”
(Azar steadies himself on the top rope, then launches… He twists mid-air into a breathtaking corkscrew shooting star press… but at the last second Jackson rolls out of the way!)
THUD!
(Azar crashes violently into the canvas, clutching his ribs as the crowd roars.)
JR: “HE MISSED! BAH GAWD HE MISSED!”
(Both men begin crawling toward the ropes, each trying to recover. Jackson’s face is smeared with blood, dripping down his chin as he grabs the middle rope and slowly pulls himself upward. Across the ring Azar does the same. They both stagger to their feet. Azar suddenly spins… looking for THE MONEY MAKER! Again!... Jackson ducks under the spinning strike. Jackson steps forward and buries a vicious left hook to Azar’s liver.)
WHUMP!
(Azar doubles slightly as Jackson pivots and drives a clean straight right hand directly into Azar’s jaw.)
CRACK!
(Azar staggers backward into the turnbuckle. Jackson charges in and slams a knee into Azar’s gut. Azar folds over the impact. Jackson grabs Azar’s wrist and violently whips him across the ring into the ropes. Azar rebounds toward him. Jackson dips low, preparing to lift him… But Azar leaps into the air, flipping completely over Jackson’s back and continuing his run. Jackson spins around just in time to see Azar spring upward. Azar jumps onto the top rope in one motion and launches himself backward… connecting with a springboard crossbody… But Jackson catches him in mid-air! The crowd explodes as Jackson pivots with Azar in his arms and slams him violently into the canvas.)
JR: “What strength by Jackson Gunner!”
(Jackson immediately grabs Azar again and hauls him up, shifting him onto his shoulders. The crowd begins to rise as Jackson sets up for THE BURNING SAMOAN. Jackson bends his knees… but Azar suddenly flips out of the hold, landing on his feet behind him! Azar immediately drives a kick into Jackson’s midsection. Then Azar explodes into a savage striking combination.)
THUD! (kick to the body)
CRACK! (low kick to Jackson’s thigh)
THUD! (another brutal body kick)
(Azar finishes the sequence with a vicious roundhouse kick to Jackson’s face. The combination sends Jackson stumbling backward into the ropes. Jackson rebounds off them… and Azar leaps forward and plants a dropkick square into Jackson’s chest. Jackson stumbles backward through the ropes and spills out to the floor outside the ring. Jackson has just fallen through the ropes to the outside. Azar immediately charges toward the ropes. Azar leaps clean over the top rope in one fluid motion and crashes directly into Jackson on the outside.)
CRASH!
(The impact drives Jackson violently back-first into the steel barricade. The crowd erupts as Jackson slumps forward, barely standing.)
JR: “Azar Vulcan just launched himself out of the ring like a missile!”
King: “That’s why he’s the Best in the World!”
(Azar steps back and his eyes lock onto something on the floor beside the wreckage of the announce area. The dark, demonic scepter he used earlier. Azar slowly bends down and picks it up. Jackson is trying to push himself up to his knees, blood still running down his mouth and chin. Azar grips the scepter like a golf club. Jackson lifts his head…)
CRACK!
(Azar swings full force and the scepter connects across Jackson’s face. Blood sprays outward as Jackson collapses flat onto his back on the floor.)
JR: “BAH GAWD! HE JUST TOOK HIS HEAD OFF!”
(Azar stands over him with a twisted grin. The referee immediately begins waving his arms frantically.)
DING! DING! DING!
Announcer: “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner as a result of a disqualification… JACKSON GUNNER!”
King: “What?! That’s ridiculous!”
JR: “Azar Vulcan doesn’t care about the result! He just wants to destroy Jackson Gunner!”
(Azar slowly lifts the scepter high above his head. He brings it crashing down into Jackson’s stomach.)
THUD!
(Jackson coughs violently. Azar lifts it again.)
THUD!
(Another brutal shot to the gut.)
JR: “Somebody stop this!”
(Suddenly…)
DMX blasts over the PA system.
(The crowd erupts. Out from the back comes Wade Wilson, sprinting full speed down the ramp.)
JR: “Here comes Wade Wilson!”
King: “What is this? Wade doesn’t belong here! Where is the Maledictum? Where the hell is security?”
(Wade hits the corner of the ramp at full speed and makes a straight line for Azar. Azar turns and swings the scepter toward Wade. Wade ducks underneath it. He spins around just as Azar turns back…)
CRACK!
(A massive superkick smashes into Azar’s jaw. Azar stumbles backward.)
King: “Oh come on! THIS IS ASSAULT!”
(Wade steps forward ready to attack again… Suddenly the arena lights cut out. Total darkness.)
Jr: “What happened to the lights?”
KG: I wonder if Prez Mike forgot to pay the Melon Gods this week…?”
(A few seconds later the lights snap back on. Azar Vulcan is gone.)
JR: “Where the hell did he go?!”
KG: “Did the Melon Gods just teleport him?!”
(Wade doesn’t care. He immediately turns and helps Jackson up from the floor. Jackson throws his arm around Wade’s shoulder as Wade helps hold him upright. They begin slowly walking up the ramp. From the back Jess and Paige rush out. Jess moves to Jackson’s other side and he drapes his arm around her as well. Paige steps in front of them, gently wiping blood from Jackson’s eyes with a cloth. Together the group slowly helps Jackson up the ramp. Before stepping to the back, Jackson stops, and turns around giving a thumbs up, and a smile to the fans.)
Crowd: JACKSON GUNNER! JACKSON GUNNER! JACKSON GUNNER!
JR: “Jackson Gunner is still standing after everything Azar Vulcan threw at him tonight!”
King: “He deserved every second of that beating! He is only standing because Wade came out and interfered in the match!”
JR: “Maybe so in your mind, King… but Jackson Gunner is still walking out of here. And that is not good news for Azar Vulcan!”
(The crowd roars as Jackson, Jess, Wade, and Paige disappear toward the backstage area.)
(cut to commercial, we come back from commercial.)
[The arena dims, setting the stage for a dramatic entrance. The opening notes of "KICK BACK" by Kenshi Yonezu fill the space, its energetic and upbeat rhythm instantly gripping the audience. The titantron comes alive with vibrant animations reminiscent of action-packed anime sequences.]
Announcer: "Making his way
to the ring, from London, England, weighing in at 275 pounds, he is 'The Samurai Otaku'... Mansa Carthage!"
[As the music swells, the lights pulse in sync with the beat, casting bright, dynamic colors across the stage. Mansa Carthage bursts onto the scene with an exuberant energy, wearing a fusion of samurai-inspired attire and modern streetwear, complete with symbolic touches from his favorite animes.]
[Mansa moves with a playful yet confident swagger, embodying the larger-than-life characters he admires. He performs exaggerated, anime-style poses and martial arts moves, engaging the crowd and drawing them into his world of fantasy and excitement.]
[As he makes his way down the ramp, the titantron displays iconic scenes from various animes, interspersed with clips of Mansa's own in-ring highlights, showcasing his agility and strength.]
[Upon reaching the ring, Mansa leaps onto the apron with a flourish, pausing to strike a dramatic samurai pose, complete with a mock sword drawing gesture. He then flips over the top rope with acrobatic ease, landing in a superhero landing pose that sends the crowd into a frenzy.]
[With the music reaching its climax, Mansa bounds to each corner of the ring, energetically engaging with the fans, showing off his charismatic and playful side. He then centers himself, closing his eyes for a moment as if channeling the spirit of both anime heroes and samurai warriors, preparing himself mentally and physically for the battle ahead.]
[As the song fades, Mansa opens his eyes, poses, and now focused and ready, his playful demeanor giving way to the serious, disciplined side of a warrior ready for combat.]
Jim Ross: Mansa Carthage looks composed and dangerous tonight. In a triple threat match that kind of calm can be a major weapon.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Calm is nice, JR, but it only matters if you can still see straight when the punches start flying.
Kris Gafney: Mansa looks like he already packed the win and is waiting on baggage claim.
(As the lights in the arena plunge into darkness, an eerie silence descends over the crowd. The faint sound of wind howling fills the air, sending shivers down spines. Suddenly, the opening notes of "Wolf Totem" by The HU (featuring Jacoby Shaddix) thunder through the speakers, primal and haunting. A blood-red light floods the entrance ramp, illuminating a swirling mist of smoke that creeps along the ground like tendrils of something alive.
The screen above the stage flickers to life, showing the silhouette of a massive wolf prowling through a dark forest. As the beat drops, bursts of flame erupt from the stage, casting wild shadows across the arena. Through the flames and smoke emerges Fenrir Kaine, "The Demonic Werewolf." His imposing frame is silhouetted against the fiery backdrop, his head lowered, and his crimson eyes glinting beneath his hooded brow.
Ring Announcer: Now making his way to the ring! Fighting out of the Shadows of the Abyss! Weighing in at two hundred and ninety-five pounds and standing six feet and four inches tall! He is "The Demonic Werewolf" FENRIR KAINE!
Fenrir’s presence is palpable, an aura of raw, predatory menace that freezes the audience in place. As he begins his slow, deliberate march down the ramp, the flames on stage ignite once more, illuminating his every step. The red lights follow him like a spotlight, casting a sinister glow over his powerful frame. The mist clings to his boots as if the darkness itself refuses to let him go.
He reaches the ring steps and pauses, turning his gaze to the crowd. Their boos and jeers are drowned by the pulsating rhythm of his theme song, yet Fenrir remains unfazed. A low, guttural growl escapes his lips as he climbs the steps and enters the ring.
Once inside, Fenrir moves to the center of the ring, his massive frame towering over the referee. He throws back his head and lets out a bone-chilling howl, synchronized with a final burst of flame erupting from the ring posts. The lights flicker back to full brightness, but the chilling aura lingers as Fenrir Kaine removes his hood and glares out at the crowd with predatory intent.
He moves to his corner, leaning against the turnbuckle like a wolf surveying its prey, waiting for the match to begin. The arena buzzes with tension, every eye fixed on the terrifying force that is Fenrir Kaine.)
Jim Ross: Fenrir Kaine is a dangerous kind of problem in a match like this. He is opportunistic, ruthless, and perfectly willing to let the other two do the hard work before he strikes.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Smart man. I always say let the buffet line move before you jump in.
Kris Gafney: Fenrir has the look of a man who calls chaos a meal plan.
[The referee gathers all three men at center ring and gives the standard instructions, making it very clear that the first pinfall or submission wins the whole thing and that there are no partners, no breaks, and no excuses in a triple threat. Mansa gives a curt nod. Joey nods too, still bouncing on his feet. Fenrir barely pays attention, too busy staring holes through both men. The referee backs off and calls for the bell.]
[The bell rings and all three men hesitate for just a heartbeat, each trying to read the first move before committing to it. Joey breaks the silence by darting in at Fenrir with a quick slap to the face and then skipping backward before Kaine can answer. Fenrir lunges after him in anger, but Joey circles away and accidentally on purpose pulls Fenrir right into Mansa, who levels Kaine with a shoulder block that puts him flat on the mat. Joey immediately tries to capitalize by striking Mansa from behind with two fast forearms and a low kick to the thigh, but Mansa turns, absorbs the first burst, and catches Joey with a body shot that folds him up. Mansa grabs Joey by the wrist and whips him to the ropes, but Joey rebounds with a flying forearm that clips Mansa on the jaw and forces him back a step. Fenrir rises into the chaos and drills Joey from the side with a running knee to the ribs, nearly folding him in half. Joey spills to the apron, clinging to the ropes, while Fenrir and Mansa lock eyes in the center.]
Jim Ross: Quick opening and everybody has already been hit. That is how fast a triple threat can spin out.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: It is like a three-way argument with no adults in the room.
Kris Gafney: And every sentence ends in a forearm.
[Mansa and Fenrir engage with no wasted movement, two heavy hitters meeting chest to chest in a collar-and-elbow tie-up that becomes a test of strength and leverage. Mansa digs in low and backs Fenrir two steps, but Fenrir twists and rips free, answering with a forearm to the side of the head. Mansa returns one of his own, and suddenly the two are trading hard strikes in the middle of the ring, each shot sharper than the last. Joey sees the danger of letting one of them get too comfortable and springboards in from the apron, crashing into both men with a crossbody that sends everybody tumbling. Joey pops up first, hits the ropes, and catches Fenrir with a basement dropkick to the face. He turns and tries the same on Mansa, but Mansa sidesteps and yanks Joey to his feet, only for Joey to slip out the back and hit a fast chop block to the knee. Mansa drops to one leg for just a second. Joey rushes again and gets caught with a massive scoop powerslam that plants him center ring. Fenrir immediately rushes in with a stomp to Mansa’s back before he can cover.]
Jim Ross: Mansa Carthage just spiked Joey Bellarosa with authority, but Fenrir Kaine is right there to deny the follow-up.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is triple threat etiquette, JR. Nobody gets to enjoy themselves.
Kris Gafney: It is a group project where everybody hates the group.
[Fenrir takes control with a burst of ugly efficiency, stomping Mansa in the shoulder, then dragging him up and snapping him into a front facelock. He tries for a suplex, but Mansa blocks it and powers Fenrir off. Fenrir comes right back with a kick to the gut and a swinging neckbreaker that drops Mansa hard enough to shake the ring. Joey comes flying in out of nowhere with a springboard missile dropkick that catches Fenrir in the chest and sends him rolling to the corner. Joey kips up to a knee, grinning at the crowd, then sprints across and drives a running uppercut into Fenrir in the corner. He connects with a leg drop for a cover, but Mansa powers out at one and launches Joey halfway across the mat with sheer force. Joey lands hard, rolls to his feet on instinct, and stares at Mansa with a look that mixes respect and alarm.]
Jim Ross: Joey Bellarosa can create offense in a blink, but that kickout told him just how much force Mansa still has in reserve.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Joey got the answer key early and did not like what he read.
Kris Gafney: Mansa kicked out like the mat insulted him. [Joey changes tactics and starts moving laterally, circling both bigger threats and trying to turn the geometry in his favor. He hits Fenrir with a quick jab and a kick, then pivots and lands a forearm on Mansa, never staying in one place long enough to be caught. Fenrir swings wild in frustration. Joey ducks, handsprings away, and comes back with a spinning heel kick that rocks Kaine into the ropes. Mansa steps in to cut Joey off and eats a sharp enzuigiri that staggers him. Joey sees the moment and climbs to the second rope for a diving attack, but Mansa explodes upward and catches him in midair, carrying him a step before drilling him down with a backbreaker across the knee. Fenrir charges in and Mansa meets him too, scooping him into a high angle belly to belly that launches him clear across the ring. The crowd comes alive as Mansa stands tall in the middle, breathing hard but now fully in command.]
Jim Ross: Mansa Carthage just took over this match in a matter of seconds.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is what happens when you swat a fly and flip a wolf in the same breath.
Kris Gafney: Mansa just turned the ring into a no-fly zone.
[Mansa chooses Joey first, dragging him up by the head and whipping him hard into the corner. Joey hits with a thud and stumbles out into a brutal clothesline that turns him inside out. Mansa covers and gets a two count before Fenrir stomps the pin apart. Fenrir then clubs Mansa from behind and starts hammering away with short, nasty forearms to the back of the neck, trying to chop the bigger man down. Mansa turns into the blows and answers with a headbutt that sends Fenrir stumbling. Mansa swings for a lariat, but Fenrir ducks and shoves him chest first into the turnbuckles. Joey sneaks in from behind and rolls Mansa up with a schoolboy. One, two, Mansa kicks out and sends Joey tumbling backward. Fenrir tries to steal the moment with a running boot to Mansa’s face, but Mansa catches the leg and shoves him off so hard that Fenrir crashes into Joey, flattening them both against the ropes.]
Jim Ross: Everybody is trying to steal it now. They know one clean moment can end the whole thing.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Which is why you should always be the thief, JR. Victims rarely get trophies.
Kris Gafney: This match currently has three pickpockets and one wallet.
[Fenrir, furious, grabs Joey by the hair and drags him upright just to throw him shoulder first into the ring post. Joey collapses to the apron, writhing, one arm clutched tight to his body. Fenrir turns and charges at Mansa, but Mansa catches him with a spine-jarring side slam and finally gets a little breathing room. Mansa rises and measures Fenrir. Joey, still on the apron, springboards with desperation and clips Mansa in the back of the head with a flying forearm. Mansa drops to one knee. Joey immediately follows with a tornado DDT on Fenrir, spiking him near center ring, then scrambles into a cover. One, two, Mansa barrels in and breaks it with a heavy elbow drop across both men. The audience roars at the collision, bodies stacked and scattered in every direction.]
Jim Ross: Joey Bellarosa almost stole this thing right there.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Almost is another word for losing with style.
Kris Gafney: Joey just took the scenic route to two.
[Mansa stands first and decides to punish Joey for the near fall. He drags Bellarosa up and puts him on the top turnbuckle, climbing right after him with bad intentions. Joey fights back with sharp shots to the ribs and a desperate thumb to the eye line that buys him just enough separation to shove Mansa off the ropes. Mansa lands on his feet, though barely. Joey leaps with a crossbody from the top, but Mansa catches him again. Before Mansa can finish the move, Fenrir hits both men with a running chop block that collapses the whole stack to the mat in a tangle of limbs. Fenrir covers Joey first. One, two, Joey barely gets a shoulder up. Fenrir wastes no time and flips onto Mansa for another cover. One, two, Mansa powers out with enough force to shove Fenrir off into the ropes.]
Jim Ross: Fenrir Kaine is doing exactly what he does best. Let the wreck happen and then feast on it.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is called resource management.
Kris Gafney: He is trying to win on clearance pricing.
[Fenrir drags Joey up and plants him with a snap suplex, then immediately turns and boots Mansa in the side of the head before he can rise. Kaine is all over the match now, moving with ugly confidence, talking trash while stomping both men and trying to keep them down at the same time. He drapes Joey over the middle rope and drives a knee into the back, then whips around and sends Mansa shoulder first into the post. Fenrir grabs Joey for a cover, but Joey uses the ropes to break leverage and kicks free. Fenrir snarls, hauls him up again, and looks for a double underhook lift. Joey squirms free and shoves Fenrir into Mansa just as Mansa comes off the ropes. Mansa catches Fenrir with a huge running shoulder tackle that nearly takes his head off, then turns and launches Joey with a release overhead suplex that sends Bellarosa skidding toward the corner.]
Jim Ross: Mansa Carthage just reset the match in one violent sequence.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: This man does not reset matches. He resets vertebrae.
Kris Gafney: Somewhere a chiropractor just sat up smiling.
[Mansa is fully in rhythm now and the crowd feels it. He stalks Fenrir, drags him up by the arm, and levels him with a short arm lariat that flips him to the mat. Joey tries to chop Mansa down from behind with a flurry of forearms, but Mansa turns and scoops him effortlessly, this time planting him with a brutal uranage that bounces Joey flat. Mansa covers Joey for two, but Fenrir dives in to break it up with a stomp. Fenrir then tries a sleeper from behind on Mansa, leaping onto his back and locking the arm under the chin. Mansa staggers, bent but not broken, and Fenrir tries to wrench tighter as Joey crawls toward the ropes, trying to pull himself back into the match. Mansa takes two stumbling steps, then surges backward and crushes Fenrir against the turnbuckles to break the hold. Fenrir stumbles out gasping. Joey springs in with a sling blade on Mansa that finally takes the big man down. Joey turns and catches Fenrir with a superkick that snaps his head backward. Joey throws himself onto Fenrir for the cover. One, two, Mansa reaches out and drags Joey off by the ankle just before three.]
Jim Ross: What a save by Mansa Carthage. Joey Bellarosa thought he had the whole thing won.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Thought is expensive in triple threats, JR. Facts are cheaper.
Kris Gafney: Joey got two and a heartbreak.
[Joey slaps the mat in frustration and gets in Mansa’s face, shouting that the win was his. Mansa shouts back that Joey should have finished faster. Fenrir rises in the background, seeing his opening, and charges both men with a double clothesline attempt. Mansa ducks it. Joey half ducks and gets clipped anyway, spinning sideways. Mansa catches Fenrir in one motion, hoists him high onto his shoulders, and walks him toward center ring. Joey, still dazed, stumbles in and tries to save Kaine with a forearm. Mansa shrugs it off, then dumps Fenrir off his shoulders into a crushing powerslam while Joey is still reaching, the impact leaving Kaine flat and vulnerable. Mansa then wheels immediately and blasts Joey with a violent spinning back elbow that drops Bellarosa where he stands.]
Jim Ross: Good Lord, Mansa Carthage is on a tear.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: When he gets rolling, you either move or become part of the scenery.
Kris Gafney: Right now the scenery is mostly regret.
[The crowd rises as Mansa stands over both wrecked opponents and measures the field. Joey is closer, but Joey is also rolling toward the ropes, still alive enough to create trouble. Fenrir is nearer center ring, stunned and flat on his back after the powerslam. Mansa makes the decision in an instant. He drags Fenrir up by the head, hooks him tight, and drives him down with a thunderous sit-out slam that leaves Kaine folded in the center of the ring. Joey tries to crawl in with one last desperate reach, but Mansa cuts him off with a boot to the chest that sends him spilling through the ropes to the apron again. Mansa turns right back inward, Mansa picks up Fenrir and he drops him into a Dragons Descend!! Mansa drops onto Fenrir Kaine, and hooks both legs deep as the referee slides into place. One. Two. Three.]
Jim Ross: Mansa Carthage gets the win! What a performance in a dangerous triple threat match!
Jerry "The King" Lawler: He picked the target, shut the door, and cashed the check. That is how you do it.
Kris Gafney: Mansa just turned a three-way traffic jam into a straight road home.
(Mansa celebrates his win as Shockwave goes off the air.)
