(The EMF logo flashes on the screen.)
(We open up in the darken arena. Pyrotechnics blasts on the stage, the lights turn on, and camera’s gets a few shots of the crowd. The camera zooms out to display the location information. We get one more shot of the crowd as the commentator to speak over the shot.)
JR-Welcome to Saturday Shockwave, I’m good ol’ JR, Jim Ross. I’m joined as Jerry “the King” Lawler, and Kris “KG” Gaffney.
King-Tonight main event is a triple threat to determined the number one contender for the IC championship.
Kris Gaffney-Two former IC champions, and Roman Reigns looking to gain his first championship will do battle.
JR-Let’s get started with the first match of the night.
[The arena settles into a tense hum as the graphic for a two falls match flashes across the screens and the implications ripple through the crowd. One fall will not settle this. One fall will only reshape it. The first man to score a pinfall or submission earns his team a place in an upcoming EMF Tag Team Championship contenders match, but then he is done for the night, removed from the equation, leaving the final two to battle over the second and equally important prize. There is strategy layered on top of survival, greed stacked on urgency, and every man coming down this aisle knows he may have to win a sprint, endure a war, or both depending on how the chips fall.]
Jim Ross: This is a fascinating structure. You do not just have to fight to win. You have to fight with one eye on the next phase of the night.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Which means do the smart thing, JR. Steal the first fall, cash your ticket, and leave the other two fools to break each other.
Kris Gafney: It is the wrestling version of hit your deadline and log off early.
The arena lights flicker and then cut out, plunging the crowd into darkness. A deep, rumbling bass echoes throughout the arena as "I Am Colossus" by Meshuggah begins to play. Thick, ominous smoke begins to billow from the stage, covering the ramp in a dense fog that swirls menacingly. Dark, crimson lights start to pulse in sync with the slow, crushing beats of the music, casting eerie shadows across the arena. Suddenly, a series of sharp, thunderous booms erupt, sending shocks of fire across the stage, creating a wall of flames that parts to reveal the silhouette of a giant figure. The smoke parts as Malek Voss, towering at 7'2" and 500 pounds, steps through the flames, his form barely visible through the heavy mist. The crowd murmurs in awe as Malek slowly begins his deliberate march toward the ring, his eyes locked ahead with cold, unwavering focus. Each of his footsteps seems to shake the very ground beneath him as the smoke follows his path. The crimson lights continue to pulse, casting him in and out of shadow, emphasizing his monstrous presence. Behind him, the fire burns brighter, leaving a trail of embers in his wake. Malek reaches the base of the ramp and pauses for a moment, taking in the energy of the arena, his expression stoic and unreadable. He places one massive hand on the apron, pulling himself up with ease, his eyes never leaving the ring. With a simple, yet intimidating motion, Malek steps over the top rope, entering the ring as the crimson lights swirl around him. Once inside, he slowly raises one arm to the sky, and as he does, a violent explosion of fireworks bursts from the turnbuckles, bathing the ring in a fiery glow.
EMF Ring Announcer: "Standing at 7 feet 2 inches tall, weighing in at 500 pounds… from the depths of destruction itself... The Mad Titan, Malek Voss!"
[The lights return to their dim, crimson hue as Malek strides toward the center of the ring, his massive frame illuminated by the glowing red light. He stands tall, motionless, exuding power and menace, his eyes scanning the crowd as the arena settles into an eerie silence. The music fades, but the oppressive aura of Malek Voss lingers as he waits for his opponent, like a predator stalking his prey.
Jim Ross: Malik Voss is wound tight tonight. You can see it in the eyes. He knows there are two separate stakes in play and he wants one of them badly.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: He had better want it badly. Desire is useful when an Irish God and a wolf come hunting.
Kris Gafney: He looks like a man who packed for both a sprint and a storm.
(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 looks like he would enjoy a match like this a little too much.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is called being prepared, JR. Some men bring strategy. Some men bring teeth.
Kris Gafney: He looks like a warning label that learned to walk.
(Lights out, crowd waits in anticipation and then erupt in both boos and cheers for The Irish God when green smoke fills the dark arena and a spotlight shines at the top of the ramp, all when Sinéad O'Connor & The Chieftains - The Foggy Dew plays throughout the arena. From the back, arms out and swinging cockily comes walking the Irish God, Lugus Cuhullin. He stops atop the ramp with his hands by his side and face looking to the ground and he raises his fists slowly making an X above his head. The Irish God slams his fists down and fireworks shoot from the ramp and lights flash green as The Irish God does quick shadowboxing with each strike fireworks shooting from the stage. He looks to the ring with his cocky smile.)
Jim Ross: Lugus Cuhullin has a chance tonight to propel his team forward with one pinfall. That is a mighty tempting carrot in front of a mighty dangerous man.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Tempting? He should eat the carrot and the stick.
Kris Gafney: Lugus looks like he deadlifts tree trunks for fun.
[All three men hesitate for the briefest instant, each waiting for the other two to reveal the first instinct. Fenrir darts in first, trying to ambush Malik with a running forearm, but Lugus cuts across with a massive shoulder block that nearly folds Kaine in half and sends him stumbling into the ropes. Malik instantly tries to capitalize with a low kick to Lugus’s thigh and a quick right hand to the temple, but Lugus absorbs both and answers with a clubbing forearm that sends Malik reeling into the corner. Fenrir charges back into the fray with a knee to Lugus’s ribs, then another, then tries to chop the bigger man down with a front facelock. Lugus powers through, shoving Fenrir off and then scooping Malik out of the corner into a brutal slam at center ring. Before Lugus can cover, Fenrir barrels in with a running boot to the side of the head that stuns him and sends him down to one knee.]
Jim Ross: Fast opening and Lugus Cuhullin has come out like a locomotive.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Which means the other two should quit trying to stop the train and start throwing each other in front of it.
Kris Gafney: This is less chess and more three bar fights sharing one zip code.
[Fenrir tries to steal the moment by jumping onto Malik for a quick pin, but Malik bucks him off before the referee can even get down. Malik springs up and drills Fenrir with a short lariat, then another, then a knee to the midsection that doubles him over. Malik hooks for a suplex, but Lugus storms in, rips Fenrir away by the waistband, and launches him across the ring with a release throw that draws a roar from the crowd. Malik pivots and swings on Lugus, but Lugus catches the arm, yanks him close, and drives a headbutt into Malik’s brow. Malik staggers, glassy for a second, and Lugus lifts him into a delayed vertical suplex that hangs high and drops hard. Lugus turns for the cover, but Fenrir dives in with a stomp to Lugus’s back that breaks the attempt before the count can begin.]
Jim Ross: Nobody can afford patience here, but they also cannot afford tunnel vision.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Tunnel vision is fine if the tunnel ends in a pinfall.
Kris Gafney: Right now the tunnel ends in a traffic jam.
[Fenrir goes on the attack with nasty urgency, pounding Lugus with forearms to the upper back, then snapping a kick into the side of the knee. Lugus grunts and turns, only for Fenrir to leap and latch on with a sleeper hold, legs body-scissored around the waist to drag the bigger man down. Lugus stumbles, fights the grip, and nearly backs Fenrir into the corner to break him loose, but Malik sees the chance and rushes in with a dropkick that catches Lugus in the chest and sends both Lugus and Fenrir crashing awkwardly to the mat. Malik pops up first and starts firing, stomping Lugus in the ribs, then peeling Fenrir up just to whip him face first into the turnbuckles. Malik drags Fenrir backward by the head and spikes him with a snap neckbreaker. He rolls through and lunges for a pin on Fenrir, but Lugus barrels across with a diving elbow that breaks the count at one.]
Jim Ross: There is no safe cover in a triple threat, especially when a man like Lugus is still standing.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That elbow should have come with a weather report.
Kris Gafney: Scattered pain, high chance of bruising.
[Lugus rises with a snarl and begins imposing himself again. He hauls Malik up by the head and whips him to the ropes, then catches him on the rebound with a spine shattering powerslam that rattles the ring. Fenrir comes charging from behind, but Lugus senses it and throws a violent back elbow that catches Kaine flush across the jaw. Fenrir stumbles into the corner. Lugus follows with a huge running clothesline that crushes him against the buckles, then turns right back around and drags Malik into a short arm lariat that flips him inside out. The crowd is now firmly with Lugus as he stands over both men and lets out a sharp roar, the kind that says he can feel the first fall getting closer.]
Jim Ross: Lugus Cuhullin is steamrolling this thing right now.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: He is built for this structure. Get in, get a fall, get out, cash the prize.
Kris Gafney: Efficient violence. Very on brand.
[Malik rolls toward the apron to create space, but Fenrir clips Lugus’s leg from behind with a chop block that finally puts the bigger man down to both knees. Fenrir smells the opening and attacks like a hyena, hammering shots to the back of the head, then bouncing off the ropes for a running knee that snaps Lugus sideways. Fenrir covers quickly. One, two, Lugus powers out with force. Fenrir curses and immediately shifts targets, dragging Malik back through the ropes by both ankles and stomping at his knee and midsection to keep him grounded. Fenrir then sprints at Lugus again, but Lugus meets him with a sudden pop-up into a crushing backbreaker that bends Kaine across the thigh. Malik sees the moment and launches himself at both men with a leaping forearm that glances off Lugus and knocks Fenrir loose.]
Jim Ross: Smart desperation from Malik Voss. He knows if Lugus steals this first fall, the whole board changes.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: The board changes anyway. That is literally the stipulation.
Kris Gafney: This match comes with phases like a boss battle.
[All three men are slower now, the opening sprint taking its toll. Malik and Fenrir end up trading furious strikes at center ring while Lugus regathers in the corner. Malik lands a hard right and a thrust kick to the gut. Fenrir answers with a palm strike to the ear and a wicked knee to the ribs. Malik hooks for a DDT, but Fenrir shoves him off and both men collide into Lugus in the corner. Lugus absorbs the impact, roars, and explodes out with a double clothesline that mows them both down. He immediately grabs Fenrir and hurls him through the ropes to the floor, then wheels around and catches Malik trying to stand. Lugus hoists Malik onto his shoulders in a torture rack position and marches a tight circle while the crowd rises. Malik flails, punches at the head, and tries to slide free, but Lugus shifts his weight and drops him with a Baptism leaves Voss sprawled flat.]
Jim Ross: Baptism by Lugus Cuhullin! Malik Voss may be out cold!
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Cover him before Fenrir remembers how doors work!
Kris Gafney: The floor just filed a complaint.
[Fenrir is halfway back in, sliding under the bottom rope in a desperate effort to stop the inevitable, but Lugus meets him with a stomping boot to the chest that sends him rolling backward and buys the heartbeat he needs. Lugus turns, drops onto Malik Voss, hooks both legs deep, and the referee slaps the mat. One. Two. Three.]
Jim Ross: Lugus Cuhullin scores the first fall on Malik Voss!
Jerry "The King" Lawler: There it is! Ticket punched, early checkout granted!
Kris Gafney: Step one complete. Lugus just speedran phase one.
[The bell sounds for the first fall and the crowd lets out a huge roar as Lugus rolls off Malik and pounds the mat once in triumph. The referee steps in immediately to confirm the ruling. Lugus Cuhullin has scored the first pinfall, which means he and his tag team partner have earned a place in the upcoming EMF Tag Team Championship contenders match. By the rules, Lugus now exits this bout. Lugus rises, breathing hard, and points to himself, then motions outward with both hands as if to say his team is moving on. He gives one fierce nod toward the aisle, acknowledging the prize he has just secured, then backs toward the ropes. Before stepping out, he looks once at the two wrecked men left behind, the message clear. One job done. No need to stay for the second. Lugus steps through the ropes to the apron, drops to the floor, and heads up the ramp to a strong ovation, leaving the ring and the second fall behind him.]
Jim Ross: Lugus Cuhullin did exactly what he needed to do. First fall on Malik Voss, and now he and his partner are headed to that EMF Tag Team Championship contenders match.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That is brilliant. Get paid, leave early, let the leftovers sort themselves out.
Kris Gafney: Clocked in, caused a scene, clocked out.
[There is barely time for the crowd to process the transition before the referee signals that the match continues. Lugus is gone. Now it is simply Malik Voss and Fenrir Kaine, one on one, second fall up for grabs, and the reward equally important. Malik is still clutching his face after the Baptism. Fenrir, who had nearly broken up the first fall, now realizes the field has narrowed and the moment has opened. He rushes across the ring like a starving man spotting a meal, stomping Malik before he can fully rise, then dragging him up by the hair and planting him with a short DDT that spikes the already battered Voss. Fenrir hooks the leg immediately. One. Two. Malik gets a shoulder up and the arena jolts.]
Jim Ross: Enormous kickout by Malik Voss. He is running on fumes after what Lugus did to him.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Fumes explode, JR. Fenrir should keep throwing matches.
Kris Gafney: This is the part where survival starts arguing with opportunity.
[Fenrir snarls and shifts into pure punishment. He traps Malik in the corner and drives shoulders into the ribs, the exact body part Lugus softened up, then drags him to center with a front facelock and snaps him down into a guillotine. Malik fights the hold, legs kicking, hand clawing at Fenrir’s wrist. Fenrir cinches tighter and tries to smother the life out of him, muttering through clenched teeth that this fall is his. Malik braces, plants a foot, then another, and slowly stands even with the hold still locked. Fenrir hangs on, but Malik suddenly surges backward and slams him into the turnbuckles. The hold loosens. Malik does it again. And a third time. Fenrir finally breaks away, stumbling out of the corner just long enough for Malik to explode with a running lariat that turns Kaine inside out.]
Jim Ross: That is pure heart from Malik Voss. He had almost nothing left and still found the counter.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Heart, lungs, ribs, bad decisions. All the classics.
Kris Gafney: Malik just turned a suffocation attempt into a momentum swing.
[Both men are down for a moment, chests heaving, the shape of the match now completely different from the opening chaos. No giant third man looming, no need to look over one shoulder while covering the other. Just one exhausted target each. Malik rises first and goes to work with grim intensity, hammering Fenrir with right hands, then a knee to the body, then a hard whip to the corner. Fenrir hits the buckles and stumbles out into a spinning back elbow that drops him to a knee. Malik hits the ropes and nails a running boot that snaps Fenrir backward. Cover. One. Two. Fenrir kicks out.]
Jim Ross: Good sequence from Malik. He knows he cannot let Fenrir dictate the pace.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: He also knows if Fenrir gets one clean opening, this thing could flip right back.
Kris Gafney: It is a knife fight with near falls.
[Fenrir claws his way up using the ropes and catches Malik charging with a sudden thumb to the eye out of the referee’s blind angle. Boos rain down. Fenrir capitalizes with a nasty snap suplex, rolls through, and plants a second one for good measure. He then drags Malik up and spikes him with a swinging neckbreaker before falling into another cover. One. Two. Malik kicks free again, barely but decisively. Fenrir slaps the mat in rage, then hauls Malik up and tries to set for a bigger finish, hooking the arms and looking for a double underhook lift. Malik blocks it with pure dead weight, then drives a headbutt into Fenrir’s face. Fenrir staggers. Malik fires another headbutt. Then a brutal short clothesline. Fenrir stays on his feet but wobbles. Malik grabs him around the waist and muscles him into a high angle uranage that drives Kaine into the canvas.]
Jim Ross: High impact from Malik Voss and Fenrir Kaine landed badly there.
Jerry "The King" Lawler: That ring heard all of it.
Kris Gafney: You could feel that one in the cheap seats.
[Malik senses the tide and does not hesitate. He drags Fenrir up by the head, whips him to the ropes, and catches him on the rebound with a crushing pop-up forearm that sends sweat flying into the lights. Fenrir stumbles but does not fall, so Malik scoops him immediately and slams him down hard, then backs into the corner with a look of fierce calculation. The crowd starts to rise as Malik pounds the mat once and measures Fenrir. Fenrir pushes up to hands and knees, then to one knee, dazed and vulnerable. Malik charges from the corner and drives a devastating running knee strike into the side of Fenrir’s head, snapping him all the way backward.]
Jim Ross: What a shot! Fenrir Kaine got blasted!
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Cover him already before he remembers his name!
Kris Gafney: Malik just turned the lights down and forgot the dimmer switch.
[Malik does not waste the opportunity. Malik picks up Fenrir sets him up, and he connects with the world breaker on Fenrir Kaine. Malik dives onto Fenrir, hooks the far leg high and tight, and presses all of his weight down across the chest as the referee slides into perfect position. One. Two. Three.]
Jim Ross: Malik Voss scores the second fall! Malik Voss pins Fenrir Kaine!
Jerry "The King" Lawler: Just like that the whole future rearranged itself again.
Kris Gafney: We started with three men and ended with a bracket.
(“Radio” blats on the PA system. Zack Ryder walks out on the stage with his web camera, and he steps inside of the ring.)
JR-Zack Ryder has a lot of experience in this match.
King-He knows when to find that moment within this match, that will help him.
Kris Gaffney-His ability to always fight is a positive.
The opening notes of "Attitude" by The Misfits blast through the arena as the lights flicker and strobe. The entire crowd erupts into cheers and excitement as Sythe appears at the entrance ramp.
JR-Sythe’s speed and high flying ability can create opportunities for him.
King-If he tried to go for a second rope fist drop to finish people off he’d be unstoppable!
Kris Gaffney-….I’m sure…
(The arena lights suddenly cut out, plunging everything into darkness. For a brief moment, the only sound is the murmur of the crowd, uncertain of what’s about to happen. Then, with a crackle of static, “My Way” by Frank Sinatra begins to play. But it’s not the smooth, classic version everyone knows—this one is slightly distorted, as if being played on an old, warbled record.
A lone spotlight flickers on, illuminating the entrance ramp where Jack "The Anarchist" Lynch stands, his silhouette stark against the chaos flashing on the titantron behind him—glitchy visuals of riots, fires, and carnage intercut with scenes from black-and-white films, all overlayed with the words "The Anarchist" in jagged, graffiti-style text.)
Announcer: Making his way to the ring. Fight from Wellington, New Zealand
. He stands 6'1" and weighs 230 pounds. He is The Anarchist, Jack Lynch!
(Jack takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his barbed-wire baseball bat resting casually on his shoulder. He wears a long, tattered trench coat covered in patches and scribbled phrases that look like they were done in a fit of madness. With each step, the crowd’s anticipation builds, his presence commanding yet erratic, like a ticking time bomb.
As he strides down the ramp, Jack’s grin is wide and manic, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of what’s to come. He stops suddenly, halfway down, as if a thought has just occurred to him. With a playful shrug, he pulls a flask from inside his coat, takes a swig, and sprays the liquid into the air. The mist catches the spotlight, creating a shimmering, chaotic halo around him as he continues toward the ring.
Reaching ringside, Jack doesn’t just walk up the steps like everyone else—no, that’s too predictable. Instead, he makes a sudden, wild dash toward the barricade, leaping onto it with the grace of a cat, balancing precariously on the edge. He taunts the crowd, swinging his bat playfully, then balances along the top of the barricade as if it were a tightrope, laughing all the while.
Finally, he jumps down and slides into the ring under the bottom rope, rolling to his feet in one fluid, exaggerated motion. He twirls his bat in his hand like a gunslinger ready for a duel, his eyes scanning the crowd as if daring anyone to challenge him.
Once inside, Jack heads straight for the nearest turnbuckle, leaping up onto it with a wild, unhinged energy. Perched there, he looks out over the crowd with a mix of madness and glee, as if soaking in the chaos he’s about to unleash. With a sudden, dramatic swing of his bat toward the titantron, the screen behind him glitches violently, flashing between images of destruction and his own maniacal grin.
Jack then hops down from the turnbuckle, casually tossing his bat to a ring crew member with a wink and a smirk, as if he’s just handed them a live grenade. He leans back against the ropes, whistling the last notes of "My Way" as if it’s all just a part of his twisted, chaotic day.)
JR-Jack Lynch proven he’s thrives in the chaos.
King-He wasn’t kidding.
Kris Gaffney-Guess not.
[Zack Ryder, Sythe, and Jack Lynch stand in the middle of the ring. Jack Lynch is able to go for a Pandemonium Kick that misses Zack Ryder. Zack Ryder connects with a clothesline over the top rope that takes him out of the ring. Zack Ryder gets up quicker, and he throws Jack Lynch into the ring steps. On the inside of the ring Sythe sling shots over the top rope, and he attempts to go for a cross body block on Zack Ryder, Zack Ryder moves out of the way. Sythe lands on his feet on the apron. Zack Ryder sweeps the leg, Sythe falls on the apron. Sythe climbs up on the apron. Zack Ryder connects with a DDT into the mat. Zack Ryder pushes Sythe into the ring, and he climbs up to the top rope.]
JR-Zack Ryder looks to continue the attack.
King-You mean to rhyme JR didn’t you, DIDN’T YOU!!
Kris Gaffney-I’m going to guess he did…
[Zack Ryder climbs up to the top rope, Sythe dives on the top rope, and Zack Ryder crotches the top rope, and he falls off of the top rope. Zack Ryder is slow to get up to his feet, and Sythe is able hit an inverted atomic drop on Zack Ryder which puts Zack Ryder in pain. Sythe grabs Zack Ryder, and he throws him hard into Jack Lynch who falls off of the apron. Jack Lynch falls off of the apron. Zack Ryder stubmles towards Sythe, and he connects with a belly to back suplex with a bridge. The ref goes into position to make the count. The ref counts 1………..2……..Jack Lynch breaks up the three count!!]
JR-Jack Lynch made sure that there was no chance of losing the match.
King-Thought he liked chaos?
Kris Gaffney-Guess the chaos ends when the match does might as well win?
King-Sounds like control to me, but OK…
[Jack Lynch gets up, Jack Lynch hits a knee lift into the gut, and he throws him hard into the ring post. Sythe falls out of the ring, Jack Lynch turns around, Zack Ryder goes for the Rough Ryder. But Jack Lynch ducks under, and he waits for Zack Ryder to turn around, and he connects with the Pandemonium Kick that sends Zack Ryder flying towards the corner, and he stumbles out of the corner, and he gets lifted, and dropped with an impaler DDT. Jack Lynch goes into the cover on Zack Ryder]
JR-Zack Ryder might be in trouble here.
King-Not sick bro!
[ The ref goes into position to make the count, the ref counts 1………..2……….Jack Lynch moves out of the way, and Sythe connects with the Sythenator on Zack Ryder. Jack Lynch throws Sythe out of the ring, and Jack Lynch lifts up Zack Ryder, and he connects with the Pandemonium Driver on Zack Ryder. Jack Lynch goes into the cover on Zack Ryder. The ref goes into position to make the count. The ref counts 1…………2………3!!]
JR-Sythe tried to find his spot, but it became Jack Lynch’s chance to win this match.
(“Game on” blasts on the PA system. Tony Ikeda walks out on the stage, and he walks down to the ring.)
JR-Tony Ikeda became the world champion.
King-Let’s point out that he fell out of the cage, Azar would have done that better than Tony too.
Kris Gaffney-Ouch. Nothing you can do better than Azar.
[Lights throughout the arena dim to near darkness, creating an atmosphere of suspense and anticipation. Suddenly, the sound of ticking clocks and whirring gears fills the air, building a sense of intrigue.]
[A large, digital clock appears on the titantron, its hands spinning wildly before stopping abruptly. As it strikes a mysterious, undefined hour, the arena bursts into a dazzling display of lights. Strobes and spotlights flash in a chaotic yet mesmerizing pattern, simulating the effect of time travel.]
[The entrance ramp and ring are illuminated with swirling lights that mimic the flow of time - colors shifting rapidly as if moving through different eras. Fog machines generate a thick mist across the ramp, adding to the mystical and otherworldly ambiance.]
[From the back emerges "Temporal" Travis Vortex, adorned in his eclectic time-traveler’s gear, with his crucial timepiece prominently displayed. He moves with a confident swagger, occasionally pausing as if momentarily disoriented or lost in time, adding to his eccentric character.]
JR-Travis Vortex and Tony have fought along side each other.
King-Wonder what he’s seen at the end of time?
Kris Gaffney-Tony Ikeda is still alive…
[Travis Vortex and Tony Ikeda pace around the ring, and they lock up. Travis Vortex connects with a knee lift into the gut, and he whips Tony Ikeda to the ropes, and he connects with a with a elbow that puts himd own on the mat. Travis Vortex is slow to get up to his feet, Travis Vortex connects with a kick to the gut that doubles him over. Travis Vortex sets up Tony Ikeda, and he connects with a vertical suplex that puts him down on the mat. Travis Vortex connects with a few stomps on the downed Tony Ikeda. Tony Ikeda is slow to get up to his feet. Travis Vortex connects with a few fists to the face that knocks him to the ropes. Tony Ikeda gets whipped to the ropes, and he connects with a hip toss that sends him down on the mat. Travis Vortex connects with a hurricanarana that connects with a time twist that puts him down on the mat. Tony Ikeda is slow to get up to his feet, and he falls into the corner. Travis Vortex connects with a splash in the corner. Travis Vortex backs out of the corner, and Tony Ikeda stumbles uot of the corner. Travis Vortex connects with a set up, and he connects with a fisherman suplex with a bridge. The ref goes into position to make the count. The ref counts 1………..2…….KICK OUT by Tony Ikeda!!]
JR-Travis Vortex almost got a three
King-Think he knows the outcome of the match?
Kris Gaffney-Probably not….he probably wants to keep the match exciting.
[Tony Ikeda is slow to get up to his feet, and Travis Vortex lifts him up, but Tony Ikeda is able to shift his weight. Tony Ikeda pushes Travis Vortex to the ropes, and he bounces off of the ropes. Tony Ikeda connects with a spinning spine buster. Travis Vortex is slow to get up to his feet. Tony Ikeda sets up Travis Vortex and he connects with a full nelson suplex. Tony Ikeda goes into the cover on Travis Vortex, the ref goes into position to make the count. The ref counts 1………2…….KICK OUT by Travis Vortex!!]
JR-Tony Ikeda almost got the three.
King-Travis Vortex probably is going to want a redo.
Kris Gaffney-well…
[Travis Vortex is slow to get up to his feet, and Tony Ikeda goes for a full nelson suplex, but it’s countered with a victory roll by Travis Vortex. Travis Vortex holds Tony Ikeda into the pin, the ref goes into position to make the count. The ref counts 1…………2……..3!!]
JR-Travis Vortex gets the victory!
Suddenly, the powerful tones of “Twilight of the Thunder God” by Amon Arnath engulfed the arena. Lights went pitch black for a moment, and when they return, they danced in a patriotic sequence of Red, White, and Blue while sparks rained down from the ceiling. The camera panned around quickly, searching for the source of the entrance, finally setting halfway up the stands in the crowd. There stood Jackson Gunner followed by Wade Wilson, surrounded by a sea of ecstatic fans. The crowd’s roars intensified as he tore off his tank top, throwing it to a lucky audience member. In a gesture of sheer energy, he beat his chest and threw his hands into the air, forming an X, signaling his readiness for battle as his Championship drapes over his shoulder.)
Announcer: Ladies and Gentleman! Making his way through the crowd, hailing from Honolulu, Hawaii, standing at 6’4” and weighing in at 250 pounds… he is the reigning EMF TV Champion, “THE SMILING WARRIOR” JACKSON “KOA KOA” GUNNER!
JR-This is a match against TV champion vs. the Extreme Champion.
King-Jackson Gunner is going to deal with the Dungeon Master.
Kris Gaffney-Certainly not going to be easy.
The arena is plunged into eerie darkness. A single spotlight beams down on the entrance stage, revealing an enormous 20-sided die (D20), its numbers glowing with arcane energy. The haunting opening chords of “Binks’ Sake” start to play, gentle and mysterious, the crowd immediately clapping along.
Suddenly, on the massive LED screen, a colossal animated dragon bursts forth—its scales shimmering violet and gold. It coils and roars, unleashing a torrent of digital flame straight down the ramp. As the fire rushes forward, spotlights follow, making it seem as if the very ramp itself is set ablaze, leading to the ring.
At that moment, from beneath the stage, a ring of real flames erupts. Rising through the fire, guitar in hand and bathed in flickering orange and purple light, stands The Dungeon Master. He strikes a rockstar pose, head thrown back, hair wild, the guitar gleaming across his chest. The arena explodes with cheers.
He launches into a flamboyant air guitar solo, strutting to the music, every step in sync with the rolling animation of the D20, which now tumbles down the ramp in perfect time with his movement—projected to look as if it’s rolling just ahead of him, leading the way to destiny.
Each of his steps triggers a cascade of lighting effects—arcane runes illuminate underfoot, bursts of fireworks erupt from the ramp, and shooting flames flare on either side. He spins and dances, encouraging the crowd to join in, then leaps onto the ring apron, pausing to soak in the roaring energy of the fans.
With a grand flourish, he vaults into the ring, landing center stage in an epic rockstar stance. He rips a final, thunderous strum on his guitar—at that precise moment, golden sparks rain down from the rafters, surrounding him in a shimmering storm, as purple and gold spotlights swirl around the ring.
As the music fades, the dragon on the screen loops and lands atop a mountain of dice, bellowing one last time as flames curl around the frame.
Announcer: Making his way to the ring… hailing from the Astral Plane… but Louder! Weighing in at two hundred and twelve pounds… he is the BARD of BRUTALITY… the MASTER of MAYHEM… THE DUNGEON MASTER!
The Dungeon Master drops to one knee, raises his guitar like a legendary sword, and flashes a wild, infectious grin as the crowd erupts—his legend already unfolding before the match has even begun.
JR-Various wrestlers have failed to defeat the Dungeon Master.
King-But the same can be said for Jackson Gunner.
Kris Gaffney- As this is a standard match, Jackson Gunner has more current experience in big matches that might give him the edge, but it’s something that is a challenge that the Dungeon Master is looking forward to face head on.
[Jackson Gunner and the Dungeon Master pace around the ring, they lock up, Jackson Gunner connects with a knee lift, Jackson Gunner attempts to whip him to the ropes, and he bounces off of the ropes. The Dungeon Master lowers his head connects with a knee lift to the face after he lowers his head, The Dungeon Master stumbles around, and he throws a wild fist to the face, and Jackson Gunner ducks under. The Dungeon Master connects with a release german suplex. Jackson Gunner waits for The Dungeon Master to get up to his feet, and he kicks him in the gut. Jackson Gunner connects with a double under hook, and he connects with a double under hook DDT into the mat. Jackson Gunner goes into the cover on The Dungeon Master. The ref goes into position to make the count. The ref counts 1…….2….KICK OUT by The Dungeon Master.]
JR-Jackson Gunner was almost able to pin the Extreme Champion.
King-He needs to fix his math.
Kris Gaffney-That’s the thing with math there are too many numbers.
[The Dungeon Master is slow to get up to his feet. Jackson Gunner lifts up the Dungeon Master, and he slides out of the back the Dungeon Master connects with a palm strikes, Jackson Gunner goes for a fist, but The Dungeon Master connects with a spinning back chop, and The Dungeon Master ducks under a wild fist. Jackson Gunner turns around, and he drops him with a super kick to drop him with a super kick that puts down Jackson Gunner. Jackson Gunner is slow to get up to his feet, the Dungeon Master connects with a few fists to the face, and he whips him to the ropes, or he would if Jackson Gunner is able to reverse the whip. The Dungeon Master bounces off of the ropes. The Dungeon Master connects with a swinging neck breaker. The Dungeon Master can’t follow up, he takes his time to rest, and he calls for the end of the match.]
JR-The Dungeon Master is going to look to end this match.
King-Guess he’s made the corrections.
Kris Gaffney-Hopefully he carried the one…
[Jackson Gunner is slow to get up to his feet, and once he gets up to his feet. Jackson Gunner gets lifted up, but Jackson Gunner counters with a few elbows to the side of the head, and Jackson Gunner lands behind The Dungeon Master, and he lifts him up, and he connects with the Burning Samoan!! Jackson Gunner goes into the cover on the Dungeon Master. The ref goes into position to make the count. The ref counts 1…………..2………….3!!]
JR-Jackson Gunner gets the victory.
(“I am greatness” blasts on the PA system. Roman Reigns walks out on the stage, he poses on the stage. He steps inside of the ring.)
JR-The leader of the Bloodline is looking to bring gold into the stable.
King-Maybe we should just give it to him, and that would acknowledge the tribal chief.
Kris Gaffney-Always a key concern.
The arena is bathed in darkness.
A deep, guttural whispering slithers through the sound system—indecipherable, eerie, and inhuman, as if a thousand damned souls are muttering their final prayers. The air in the arena feels heavy, suffocating, like the presence of something unholy has seeped into reality itself.
Then, the first haunting notes of "Lucifer" by Behemoth rumble through the speakers, low and ominous, like a funeral hymn for the apocalypse. A single, blood-red spotlight flickers onto the stage, revealing a towering, cloaked figure standing in the center—motionless, head lowered, as if awaiting a divine command.
Smoke pours from the ground, swallowing the entrance ramp in thick, swirling shadows. Suddenly—
FOUR PILLARS OF FLAME ERUPT from the stage, casting monstrous shadows across the walls. A deep, droning bell tolls through the arena, and the cloaked figure finally moves.
Samael Dredd slowly lifts his head, revealing his face beneath the hood—painted in cracked, corpse-like war paint, his abyssal eyes devoid of humanity. The red glow from the flames illuminates him like a demon conjured from hell itself.
Ring Announcer:
"Making his way to the ring… from the Void Between Realms… weighing in at 305 pounds… he is The Harbinger of Despair… The Reaper Prophet… The Plagueborn… SAMAEL DREDD!"
The sound of distant, ritualistic chanting grows louder, creeping under the music like a blasphemous sermon. Samael slowly begins his march down the ramp, his long black trench coat flowing behind him like death’s shroud.
As he reaches the ring, flames ignite along the sides of the ramp, flickering and twisting as if alive. The crowd murmurs, some taking a step back as if an unseen force is pressing against them.
Samael stops at the base of the ring, his head tilting slightly as he gazes into the audience, his expression unreadable—empty, void of empathy, only inevitability. He slowly places a hand on the apron, and as he does—
A FINAL SURGE OF FIRE BLASTS FROM THE RING POSTS.
He climbs the steps methodically, wiping his feet on the apron as if cleansing himself before stepping into his unholy altar. Once inside, he kneels in the center of the ring, head bowed, hands outstretched as if praying to an unseen force.
Then—without warning—he snaps his head back and lets out a guttural, echoing breath, his body shaking as if possessed. The lights flicker violently, and then—
DARKNESS.
For a few seconds, there is nothing. Silence. Stillness.
Then, the lights return, and Samael Dredd is standing in the corner, unmoving, his eyes locked on his opponent.
He does not speak. He does not react. He simply waits.
For the suffering to begin.
JR-Samael Dredd was a long time IC champion, this could get him in line to take it back from the man who took it from him.
King-I’m certain he’s waited for this chance for a while.
The arena lights dim, plunging the space into an anticipatory darkness. A hushed silence falls over the crowd, broken only by the distant sound of thunder. Suddenly, the opening notes of "Medieval Viking Music - For Honor (Ft. Peyton Parrish)" resonate through the speakers, their haunting melody echoing in the vastness of the arena.
As the music swells, the titantron flickers to life, displaying a mist-covered Nordic landscape. Towering mountains and dense, shadowy forests under a twilight sky fill the screen, creating an atmosphere of ancient, rugged wilderness.
Amidst this mystical backdrop, scenes of Viking lore begin to unfold on the titantron. Images of longships sailing through stormy seas, warriors brandishing shields and axes, and ethereal figures of Valkyries descending from the heavens captivate the audience, weaving a tale of epic battles and Norse mythology.
A deep, bellowing horn sounds, reminiscent of a Gjallarhorn, heralding the approach of a warrior. The crowd stirs with excitement as a lone figure emerges from the backstage, his silhouette imposing and powerful.
Ragnar Ayerswindale steps into the light, his figure colossal and commanding. He stands for a moment at the top of the ramp, surveying the arena with a calm, unyielding gaze. His attire, a fusion of traditional Viking elements and modern combat gear, complements his muscular build, and Norse runes glint on his gear under the arena lights.
As he begins his descent down the ramp, the music intensifies. The titantron shows images of thunderous battles juxtaposed with serene, majestic landscapes of the Nordic fjords, symbolizing the duality of Ragnar's nature – both a fierce warrior and a stoic guardian of ancient traditions.
Ragnar's movements are deliberate and measured, exuding confidence and a sense of purpose. He occasionally pauses to make eye contact with fans, his expression unchanging, an embodiment of the calm before the storm.
Reaching the ring, Ragnar ascends the steel steps with ease. He stands on the apron for a moment, closing his eyes as if to draw strength from the gods themselves. Then, with a swift and fluid motion, he steps over the top rope and enters the ring.
The music reaches a crescendo, and Ragnar raises his arms, acknowledging the crowd and the arena. The Norse imagery on the titantron gives way to a single, ancient rune, glowing brightly as if imbued with mystical power.
As the music fades and the lights return to normal, Ragnar begins his pre-match ritual, a silent nod to the Viking warriors of old. The arena buzzes with anticipation, the presence of this modern-day Viking leaving an indelible mark on all who witness his entrance.
JR-Speaking of former IC champions, Ragnar Ayerswindale has also been IC champion, and also would like to be again.
King-My fist would like to meet your face again JR.
Kris Gaffney-Ouch!
[Samael Dredd, Roman Reigns, and Ragnar Ayerswindale stand in the middle of the ring. They look for the first move. Samael Dredd gets too close, and Roman Reigns runs at Dredd. Samael Dredd is able to counter with a back body drop. Ragnar allows for this to go one, and Roman Reigns gets hit with a hard fist to the face dropping him out of the ring. Samael Dredd gets pushed to the ropes by Ragnar Ayerswindale, but it’s countered with a back elbow to the face that sends him stumbling. Ragnar runs Samael Dredd who counters with a hot shot on Ragnar. Ayerswindale stumbles around, Ragnar connects with a spike standing spike buster. Samael Dredd goes into the cover, the ref counts 1…………2……Roman Reigns breaks up the three.]
JR-Roman Reigns is not taking any chances.
King-You shouldn’t.
Kris Gaffney-Guess you never know.
[Ragnar Ayerswindale gets picked up by Samael Dredd, Ragnar slides out of the back. Ragnar Ayerswindale pushes Samael Dredd forward into Roman Reigns. Samael Dredd stumbles towards Ragnar, and Ragnar hits a kick to the gut, and he sets him up. He lifts up Samael Dredd, and he connects with the Runestone powerbomb, but Samael Dredd rolls out of the ring. Ragnar and Roman Reigns throw fists to the face, and Ragnar Ayerswindale is able to win the exchange with a knee lift into the gut, an he whips Roman Reigns to the ropes, and he bounces off of the ropes. Ragnar Ayerswindale connects with a spinning spine buster on Roman Reigns, and Roman is down on the mat. Ragnar Ayerswindale backs up into the corner, and he measures up on Roman Reigns.]
JR-It looks like Ragnar is going for the Gunginar spear.
King-This doesn’t make Roman look strong.
Kris Gaffney-Guess not.
[Ragnar runs out of the corner, Roman Reigns counters with a kick to the face. Ragnar Ayerswindale stumbles around, and Roman Reigns connects with the Super Man punch, Ragnar Ayerswindale falls out of the ring. Roman Reigns takes a few moments to rest up, he watches as Samael Dredd tries to get up on the apron, and Roman Reigns connects with a super man punch on him too to make sure that he doesn’t get involved into what he plans to do next. Roman Reigns goes to the outside of the ring, and he pulls Ragnar Ayerswindale up after hitting stomps on him, and he throws him into the ring. He rolls into the ring, and he goes into the corner, and he measures up on Ragnar Ayerswindale.]
JR-The tables have turned.
King-Shut up JR!
[Roman Reigns see’s that Ragnar is stumbling towards somewhere he didn’t expected, he walks out othe corner. Roman Reigns goes for the spear, but Ragnar Ayerswindale moves out of the way. He crashes into Samael Dredd into the corner. Samael Dredd falls off of the apron. Ragnar Ayerswindale school boy pinning combination on Roman Reigns. The ref goes into position to make the count. The ref counts 1……………2……………3!!]
JR-Ragnar was able to avoid the spear, and allowed himself to get in position to get three count on Roman Reigns.
King-Not taking the spear doesn’t make Roman look strong!
(Ragnar Ayerswindale celebrates his win as Shockwave goes off the air.)
