Sam Duffy:
“Hello wrestling fans and welcome back to another installment of the HCW Wrestling Newsletter — and welcome to HCW Voltage!”
The camera sweeps across a fired-up Columbia crowd holding signs for Scarlett Howl, Jack Lumber, Beastfang, and a few brave souls hoisting hand-painted “PRAY FOR WILBER” boards. Pyro fires once across the stage in the classic Voltage lightning pattern.
Rick Granger:
“Fans, we are only a few weeks away from Zero Hour, and things in HCW are changing fast. The Dark Dominion are showing cracks, Scarlett Howl is rumored to have something big to say tonight, and Wilber Townsend is out here later defending the U.S. Title against Ashen Vicar of all people. But first—”
Rick stops, touching the headset with mild confusion.
Sam Duffy:
“Yeah, folks, we’re being told we have cameras standing by backstage with General Manager Max McGillicutty, who… wow, he looks like he’s on an important phone call.”
BACKSTAGE: MAX McGILLICUTTY CALLS THE IRON RING ACADEMY
Cut to Max in his office. He’s standing, one hand on his hip, the other pressed firmly around his cell phone. His demeanor is completely different from his usual, Dominion-influenced behavior — he is focused, sharp, and all business.
Max McGillicutty:
“Hi, yes, this is Max McGillicutty from HCW. I’m trying to reach someone regarding the Iron Ring Academy.”
A beat.
Then a calm, professional voice answers from the other end — unseen, but clear.
Veronica (V.O.):
“This is Veronica speaking. How can I help you today, Mr. McGillicutty?”
Max nods, ready.
Max McGillicutty:
“Veronica, I caught the segment on NPCW’s The Bunker the other day, and I wanted to ask about the possibility of HCW working with your Academy. Maybe bringing in some talent for showcases, cross-promotional appearances, you know — opportunities for the students.”
A pause — Veronica’s silence is polite, but measured.
Veronica (V.O.):
“We… appreciate your interest, Mr. McGillicutty. Right now, everything regarding the Academy is under review. At the moment, all I can say is—we’ll see.”
Max straightens, clearly not satisfied but staying professional.
Max McGillicutty:
“Alright. Then maybe I could visit the Academy in person? Tour the facilities, meet the coaches, talk through possibilities one-on-one?”
Another controlled pause.
Veronica (V.O.):
“We’ll get back to you.”
Max blinks — that’s not a no, but it’s certainly not enthusiastic.
Max McGillicutty:
“…Right. Thank you for your time.”
He lowers the phone and exhales, half-frustrated, half-determined.
BACK TO RINGSIDE
Sam Duffy:
“Well… that didn’t seem promising.”
Rick Granger:
“No kidding. NPCW is tightening their grip, and after what Dave Kent said on the 12/4 episode of The Bunker, you can’t blame Max for trying to keep HCW competitive. But Veronica didn’t budge an inch.”
Sam Duffy:
“Still, you’ve gotta give Max credit — for once, he wasn’t acting on behalf of Count Vlad. That was the General Manager of HCW trying to make things happen.”
Rick Granger:
“And speaking of things happening — Scarlett Howl is reportedly in the building with a MAJOR announcement tonight, and I hear she’s not waiting long to make it.”
Sam Duffy:
“We’ll get to that moment… but right now we’ve got action on deck, and Voltage is officially underway!”
The arena lights shift into hyper-patriotic red, white, and blue. A heavy snare-drum cadence rattles the speakers, followed by an eagle screech that is clearly a stock sound effect labeled “Hawk No.3.”
A voice booms:
“MAKE WAY FOR THE DEFENDER OF AMERICAN GREATNESS… COLONEL! SAMUEL!! FLAGG!!!”
An explosion of pyro attempts the shape of an eagle… but resembles a startled rooster made of sparklers.
Colonel Samuel Flagg marches out saluting everything in sight — the fans, the ring, the walkway, the ceiling, a hot dog vendor.
Sam Duffy:
“Oh boy… here we go.”
Rick Granger:
“Lock your doors and hide your conspiracy boards, Columbia.”
Flagg enters the ring, pulls out a bullhorn, and immediately speaks into it while holding a live mic, blowing out the first three rows’ eardrums.
Colonel Samuel Flagg:
“CITIZENS OF HCW! This building is COMPROMISED!”
Crowd boos.
Colonel Samuel Flagg:
“That’s right! I have uncovered MULTIPLE THREATS to our beloved federation!
Foreign threats! Domestic threats!
Yeti threats!
Possibly goblin threats!”
Crowd laughs.
Colonel Samuel Flagg:
“But I — Colonel Samuel Flagg — am assembling the greatest unit in American sports history!
A battalion of truth!
A regiment of righteousness!
A—”
He checks a very wrinkled index card.
“—FLAGGSHIP OF FREEDOM!”
Booing swells.
Flagg thrusts a finger toward the stage.
Colonel Samuel Flagg:
“And there is ONE man — ONE TRUE AMERICAN WARRIOR — who MUST rejoin my Flaggship!
Rex Rampage!
Soldier!
REPORT! FOR! DUTY!”
No theatrics.
No posing.
Just a furious, heavy, march straight to the ring.
Rex slides in, gets in Flagg’s face, and the tension is immediate.
THE CONFRONTATION
Rex Rampage:
“Flagg… what the hell do you want?”
Small pop.
Colonel Samuel Flagg:
“I want YOU, soldier!
Your strength!
Your fury!
Your unquestioning allegiance to ME and to the FLAGGSHIP! You sided with me once, it’s time to do it again.”
Rex blinks slowly.
Rex Rampage:
“…What?”
Colonel Samuel Flagg:
“We will expose conspiracies! Neutralize supernatural invaders! Defend this arena from infiltrators and sasquatch sleeper cells!”
Rex looks directly into the camera like he’s on The Office.
Rex Rampage:
“Are you… out of your mind?”
Crowd laughs and cheers.
Flagg leans in.
Colonel Samuel Flagg:
“I am offering you the honor of a lifetime, soldier! Together, we will SAVE HCW!”
Rex steps forward, gets nose-to-nose with him.
Rex Rampage:
“Flagg…
Listen closely…
I’m not joining your platoon… your squad… your bird-watching club… your book-of-the-month… none of it.
I’m not joining your weird little—”
STATIC BURST — the audio mutes for a half-second.
The crowd ROARS even louder.
Rick Granger:
“…uhhh, did the truck just mute him?”
Sam Duffy:
“I think Rex may have said something our broadcast standards department didn’t appreciate.”
Flagg recoils, scandalized.
Colonel Samuel Flagg:
“You just committed TREASON on live television!”
Rex stares him down.
Rex Rampage:
“Treason?
Man, the only thing I’m guilty of… is being sick and tired of your—”
STATIC POP — audio cuts for a moment.
The crowd pops HUGE.
Flagg clutches his imaginary pearls.
Colonel Samuel Flagg:
“That is IT!
YOU ARE NOW AN ENEMY OF THE FLAGGSHIP!”
Rex leans in one more time.
Rex Rampage:
“Flagg… take your Flaggship… fold it up real tight… and shove it—”
FULL MUTED DRAG — three seconds of silence while Rex is visibly yelling.
Fans go berserk.
Rick Granger:
“Wow. WOW.
Rex Rampage has reached his limit.”
Sam Duffy:
“Get the censor button some ice!”
Flagg snaps into a frenzy.
Colonel Samuel Flagg:
“THAT’S IT!
I DECLARE WAR!
I DEMAND A MATCH!
RIGHT NOW!”
Rex grins — the kind of grin that means someone is about to get folded.
Rex Rampage:
“Good.
Because I’ve been waiting to shut you up for MONTHS.”
The referee sprints out.
The bell rings.
Rex Rampage wastes no time the moment the bell rings. He charges straight at Colonel Samuel Flagg and blasts him with a taped-fist strike so stiff that Flagg’s hat flies off and lands perfectly on a kid in the third row. The crowd pops huge — but Flagg staggers back up with wild-eyed determination and surprises everyone by clotheslining Rex across the jaw.
Sam Duffy:
“Flagg with a clothesline! Didn’t see that in the training manual!”
Rick Granger:
“That’s because the manual only says ‘panic aggressively.’”
The Colonel follows with a series of frantic suplex attempts — and to the astonishment of everyone, he actually connects with a snap suplex. Rex sits up, cracking his neck, as if the move merely annoyed him.
Flagg sees his window and rushes in… and runs straight into Rex’s arms.
Huge mistake.
Rex hoists Flagg up and drives him spine-first into the nearest steel post. The Colonel lets out a noise somewhere between a yelp and a foghorn.
Rex doesn’t stop.
He lifts Flagg again —
SLAM! Back into the post.
Again —
SLAM! The ring shakes.
Again —
SLAM! Flagg’s legs buckle like overcooked noodles.
Sam Duffy:
“Flagg’s back is taking YEARS off his patriotism!”
Rick Granger:
“At this point he’ll be lucky if he can salute without assistance!”
Rex rolls the Colonel inside and hits a brutal piledriver, flattening him to the canvas. Flagg tries to roll away, mumbling something about “reinforcements” and “deep state chiropractors,” but Rex grabs him by the boots and drags him back to center ring.
And then the pain begins.
Rex locks in the Rampage Lock, wrenching backward on the very spine he just introduced to the steel post three times. Flagg screams but refuses to tap, shouting, “I DON’T NEGOTIATE WITH PAIN!”
His resistance lasts all of five seconds.
Rex leans back harder.
Flagg, in desperation, drops down for a sloppy headbutt that barely connects — and hurts him more than Rex. The Rampage Lock stays cinched in, digging into damaged vertebrae.
Rex tightens the hold one more time.
Flagg’s arm shoots out in a panicked tap.
Rex Rampage defeats Colonel Samuel Flagg by submission with the Rampage Lock!
Rex stands tall while Flagg writhes on the mat clutching his back and insisting to ‘Honest’ Abe that he “wasn’t tapping, just signaling encrypted Morse code.”
Rex steps over him on the way out, muttering something that is mercifully muted by production, which gets a huge laugh from the crowd.
A dominant, punishing win — and a painful lesson for the Colonel.
As Rex Rampage leaves, Colonel Flagg is still rolling around in circles insisting that “the tap was a false flag operation,” while ‘Honest’ Abe looks deeply, existentially tired.
Sam Duffy:
“Fans, Rex Rampage with a decisive victory — but Colonel Flagg may need… several specialists.”
Rick Granger:
“Or an exorcist.”
We fade to commercial as medics try to convince Flagg his spine is not classified information.
RETURN FROM COMMERCIAL – COMMENTARY AT RINGSIDE
The camera pans back to Sam Duffy and Rick Granger as the Columbia crowd buzzes.
Sam Duffy:
“Welcome back to HCW Voltage! We kicked things off tonight with General Manager Max McGillicutty making an unexpected call to the Iron Ring Academy — and then we saw Rex Rampage finally silence Colonel Flagg’s latest… attempt at recruitment.”
Rick Granger:
“Attempt is a strong word. More like a patriotic hostage situation.”
Sam Duffy:
“Well, things are only heating up from here, because one of the biggest stories of the night is about to unfold. We’ve been hearing all week that Scarlett Howl has a major announcement regarding the World Ladies Championship, and folks… she’s headed to the ring right now.”
Crowd perks up immediately.
Lights dim to purple and silver.
A wolf-howl sound cue hits the speakers.
Scarlett’s entrance theme by the fictional band Glass Spine — “Starfall Huntress” — kicks in.
Rick Granger:
“Oh yeah. The Huntress is here.”
Scarlett steps onto the stage with purpose, not posing or playing to the crowd — just focused, confident, and ready to speak. She slides into the ring, grabs a microphone, and the crowd settles in.
Scarlett Howl:
“Columbia… I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
Huge pop.
Scarlett Howl:
“Ever since I won that contract, people have been asking me one question:
When are you going to cash it in?
When are you going after the World Ladies Championship?”
She paces slowly, eyes sharp.
Scarlett Howl:
“And the truth is… I wasn’t going to rush into anything.
Not when the title is being held hostage by someone who doesn’t respect it.
Not when the Dark Dominion has turned HCW’s women’s division into their personal playground.”
Crowd boos the Dominion loudly.
Scarlett Howl:
“But at Zero Hour… that changes.
Because I’m cashing in my contract.
And I’m challenging—”
Lights drop instantly.
A pulse of black light fills the stage.
The haunting theme of Selena “Widow’s Fang” Blackfang — “Venom in Velvet” by the fictional band Nightshade Choir — hits like a spike through the arena.
The Columbia crowd unleashes a wall of boos as Selena steps out, title around her waist, flanked by a cascade of eerie violet spotlights. Her presence is icy, regal, and venomous.
She slowly makes her way down the ramp, smirking.
Sam Duffy:
“Oh boy… here comes trouble.”
Rick Granger:
“Scarlett wanted an answer — and the Widow’s Fang is here to deliver it personally.”
Selena enters the ring with serpent-like calm, raising the Ladies World Championship just high enough to force Scarlett to look directly at it.
Selena Blackfang:
“Oh, Scarlett… Scarlett…
You sweet summer cub.”
Boos rain down.
Selena Blackfang:
“You think Zero Hour is your moment?
You think this contract gives you power?
You think the Dark Dominion is going to let you stroll into our kingdom and take our crown?”
She steps nose-to-nose with Scarlett.
Selena Blackfang:
“Scarlett Howl…
You are walking into a den of wolves.
And you’re the one wearing perfume.”
Scarlett doesn’t even blink.
Scarlett Howl:
“I don’t need perfume, Selena.
You’ll smell fear soon enough — and it won’t be mine.”
The crowd erupts.
Selena tilts her head, smiling like she’s already dissecting Scarlett’s confidence.
Selena Blackfang:
“At Zero Hour… your little contract becomes your little obituary.”
Selena lowers her mic, that slow, cruel smile lingering as she backs toward the ropes, never turning her back on Scarlett. The crowd floods her with boos, but the Widow’s Fang seems to drink them in like applause.
Scarlett steps forward, lifting her mic one more time.
Scarlett Howl:
“Selena… enjoy that championship while you can.
Because at Zero Hour?
I’m not cashing in a contract…
I’m cashing in a promise.”
The crowd roars as Scarlett continues, voice steady and razor-edged.
Scarlett Howl:
“And I promise you this —
when the Huntress comes for the Widow’s Fang…
you won’t just lose your title.
You’ll lose your throne.”
A huge reaction erupts through the arena.
Selena freezes at ringside, tilts her head with an amused sneer, and taps the faceplate of her championship three times — a mocking farewell — before backing up the ramp.
No attacks.
No ambush.
Just the Champion leaving with icy confidence…
…and the Challenger standing tall in the ring, the crowd chanting her name.
Sam Duffy:
“Scarlett Howl is locked in! Zero Hour just became must-see!”
Rick Granger:
“And you can bet the Dark Dominion heard every word she said.”
Scarlett’s theme hits as she stands center ring, eyes fixed on Selena.
The arena lights shift to blue and silver strobes as the opening guitar riff of Billy Robbins’ fictional theme “Ten Thousand Miles of Heart” by Southbound Riot hits the speakers. The crowd erupts immediately — Billy is one of those honest, blue-collar babyfaces the HCW fans never stop rooting for.
Billy bursts through the curtain, pumping his fist with a huge grin. He slaps hands all the way down the ramp, leaning into the cheers, radiating the exact opposite energy of the nightmare he’s about to wrestle.
Sam Duffy:
“Billy Robbins never backs down, no matter how stacked the odds are. And against the Yeti? Folks… those odds are stacked like a mountain.”
Rick Granger:
“And that mountain usually throws people off of it.”
Billy climbs the turnbuckle, pointing out toward the fans before hopping down and hitting the ropes, full of energy and ready to fight.
He turns toward the entrance, stretching his shoulders, knowing exactly what’s coming next.
The lights slam to black.
A low, distant wind howl echoes through the arena.
Then the haunting, percussive thud of Yeti’s theme “Icebreaker Ritual” by the fictional group Frosthammer Circle begins — a deep, slow, rhythmic pounding like something ancient waking under the snow.
A cold fog spills onto the stage.
Feral emerges first — silent, crouched, feral, her hair wild and her eyes burning with predatory focus. She scans the crowd like she’s selecting prey, then steps aside.
From behind her, the massive silhouette of the Yeti appears.
When he steps forward into the light, the crowd volume spikes — part fear, part awe.
Rick Granger:
“And there he is. The avalanche with boots.”
Sam Duffy:
“And remember: with Feral at ringside, the Yeti has eyes everywhere.”
The Yeti moves slowly but with terrifying purpose, each step echoing like a drumbeat. Feral trails him, whispering minimal, guttural words only he can hear.
Billy Robbins visibly steels himself, but his eyes show the reality — the Yeti is unlike anything else in HCW.
The Yeti climbs onto the apron in one massive stride, ducking between the ropes. Feral circles the outside of the ring like a wolf tracking movement.
The fog dissipates as the crowd buzzes with anticipation and dread.
Tony Calibur:
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall!”
Crowd responds: “ONE FALL!”
Tony Calibur:
“Introducing first… from Asheville, North Carolina… weighing in at 242 pounds… he is the heart of the Carolinas… BILLY ROBBINS!”
Big pop as Billy raises an arm, ready to fight the impossible.
Tony Calibur:
“And his opponent… accompanied to the ring by Feral…
from the highest peaks of the frozen world… weighing in at 375 pounds of unstoppable force…
THE… YETI!!!”
A low rumble travels through the arena as the Yeti lifts his head and roars, the sound echoing against the rafters.
Billy Robbins stands his ground.
Feral crouches outside the ropes, watching every breath Billy takes.
Sam Duffy:
“Billy Robbins may have just walked into a blizzard!”
Rick Granger:
“And the Yeti doesn’t melt.”
The referee signals for both men to stand ready.
The bell is about to ring…
Billy Robbins charges in with pure heart and fire, stunning the Columbia crowd early by hitting a sudden moonsault that actually rattles the monster. For a split-second, the Yeti rocks back on his heels — a rare visual that gets the fans roaring.
Sam Duffy:
“Billy Robbins is out here proving he’s not scared of anything on two legs—or whatever the Yeti counts as!”
But momentum like that never lasts long against the frozen behemoth.
The Yeti launches forward with a crushing power smash and drives Billy into the mat with an elbow drop that shakes the ropes. When Yeti clamps on a chinlock, it isn’t a rest hold — it’s a crushing vise, forcing Billy to fight for breath.
Billy tries to fire up with a dazzling dropkick, then another, then a missile dropkick that hits clean and sends Yeti stumbling back a step. The crowd rallies behind him.
Rick Granger:
“You can hear this building willing Billy back into this thing!”
Every time Billy rallies, though, the Yeti shuts him down with something monstrous — a tombstone piledriver that folds Billy in half… a stomp that nearly caves his ribs… another chinlock that looks like it’s trying to squeeze his spine loose.
Feral pounds the apron outside, snarling encouragement, her eyes never leaving Billy.
Billy answers with heart.
Flying body press.
Another body press.
A slingshot suplex out of nowhere.
Rapid punches that momentarily stagger the giant.
At one point, the Yeti goes for a pin —
Billy kicks out.
The Yeti hits another tombstone —
Billy kicks out AGAIN, and the arena explodes.
Sam Duffy:
“Billy Robbins refusing to die out here!”
Rick Granger:
“Yeah, but how many tombstones can one man take?!”
What follows is a breathtaking sequence of both men landing offense at full throttle:
Billy lands a missile dropkick
Yeti answers with a crushing elbow
Billy hits a moonsault
Yeti throws him with an Avalanche German suplex
Billy AGAIN fights up with a flying body press
Yeti hits rapid-fire headlocks and growls, wearing him down
By the latter stages, Billy’s body is battered, but every time the Yeti goes for the kill, Billy claws out with one more burst of spirit.
But the end comes brutally.
The Yeti wraps his giant forearm around Billy’s head and neck and drags him down into a punishing, grinding headlock — not a traditional submission hold, but a suffocating, crushing vise designed to end movement.
Billy struggles.
He reaches.
He claws for the ropes.
But the weight of the Yeti collapses on top of him.
‘Honest’ Abe drops for the count:
1…
2…
3!
Yeti defeats Billy Robbins with a punishing headlock.
The bell sounds, and the Yeti rises slowly, looming over Billy’s limp form.
Feral slides into the ring, crouching beside her monster, whispering cold, primal words that only he can understand.
Sam Duffy:
“That wasn’t just a win — that was a warning.”
Rick Granger:
“You don’t survive the Yeti… you endure him… if you’re lucky.”
The Yeti steps over the ropes, Feral at his side, leaving Billy struggling to push himself up on shaking forearms.
The message is unmistakable:
the frozen beast is still unstoppable.
The Yeti steps over the ropes with Feral at his side, both leaving the scene of destruction as Billy Robbins crawls toward the bottom rope. The Columbia crowd’s boos echo after the brutal finish…
…until the arena EXPLODES.
A massive pop rips through the building as “Hunt of the Wildman” by fictional metal band Icebreaker Union hits.
Sam Duffy:
“OH MY— THAT’S JAX BRENNER! JAX IS HERE!”
Rick Granger:
“And the Alaskan Wildman looks READY TO FEAST!”
Jax Brenner barrels down the ramp at full sprint, eyes locked on the Yeti with pure, unfiltered fury. Feral shrieks a warning, but Jax is already airborne—
BAM!
JAX TACKLES THE YETI INTO THE BARRICADE.
The whole ringside area rocks.
Yeti staggers, enraged, and swings a massive clubbing arm. Jax ducks, fires back with stiff forearms, driving the Yeti backward, step by step.
Feral leaps onto Jax’s back, clawing and snarling, but Jax turns and SNAPS her off with pure power, tossing her aside without malice—just instinct.
The Yeti roars and rushes him again.
Jax meets him head-on.
Sam Duffy:
“THESE TWO ARE TRYING TO TEAR EACH OTHER APART!”
Rick Granger:
“And we’re not even CLOSE to Zero Hour yet!”
Security floods the ringside area — four men, then eight, then a full platoon. They try everything: grabbing Jax’s waist, pulling Yeti back by the arms, forming a wall between them…
But both monsters KEEP BREAKING FREE.
Jax hurls two security guards aside and dives at the Yeti again.
Yeti swats a guard like a fly and lunges back at Jax with murder in his eyes.
MAX McGILLICUTTY STORMS OUT
Max rushes onto the ramp, tie crooked, voice exploding through the PA.
Max McGillicutty:
“ENOUGH! ENOUGH! Somebody get control of these two before they bring the building down!”
Security finally wedges both men apart — barely.
Jax is frothing to get at the Yeti.
The Yeti is snarling, shaking off three guards at once.
Max points down the ramp at them both.
Max McGillicutty:
“You want each other so bad? FINE!
You want to settle this? FINE!”
The crowd surges in anticipation.
Max McGillicutty:
“At Zero Hour, it’s official—
JAX BRENNER vs. THE YETI!”
ENORMOUS pop.
But Max isn’t finished.
Max McGillicutty:
“But you don’t get to wait until Zero Hour to tear into each other.
Because THIS THURSDAY, December 11th…
we’re having a tag team match!”
Jax stops struggling.
Yeti snarls, eyes narrowing.
Max McGillicutty:
“It’ll be Jax Brenner and Molly Mason…
against The Yeti and Feral!”
Big reaction — fans are all in.
Max McGillicutty:
“And the winner of that tag match…
gets to choose the stipulation…
for the Zero Hour showdown!”
The crowd erupts again as security holds both animals apart.
Jax points at the Yeti, screaming something caught in the mix of cheers and boos.
The Yeti beats his chest and bellows a primal roar in reply.
Feral hisses at Molly’s name.
Jax spits in Yeti’s direction.
The building is vibrating.
Sam Duffy:
“You heard the man! This rivalry just got nuclear!”
Rick Granger:
“And on the 11th, it’s Jax & Molly versus Yeti & Feral?! Oh, this is gonna be WILD!”
Security drags the Yeti to the ramp while Jax breaks free one last time, trying to lunge forward — only to be caught by four guards.
The Alaskan Wildman and the Frozen Monster stare daggers at each other as we finally cut to the next segment.
BACKSTAGE – ASHEN VICAR WITH CANDACE HART
Cut to a dim, candlelit backstage corridor — ritualistic symbols faintly glow on the walls. Candace Hart stands poised with a microphone, slightly tense.
Candace Hart:
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my guest at this time… Ashen Vicar.”
Ashen Vicar steps into frame, hood up, face half-shadowed, the air around him unnaturally still. In his hand is a blackened scroll bound with white twine — clearly a contract of some kind.
Candace steadies herself.
Candace Hart:
“Mr. Vicar… earlier today you were seen in possession of a contract related to the U.S. Title. Can you confirm its legitimacy?”
Ashen slowly unravels the scroll.
Ashen Vicar:
(in a calm, scripture-like tone)
“The flame reveals what the unworthy fear to see.
A covenant… written.
A reckoning… due.
And a warrior… chosen.”
He holds the contract up to the camera — unmistakably an official U.S. Title match contract.
Ashen Vicar:
“Wilber Townsend carries the gold bought with blood and burden.
He fought a monster last night…
and tonight…
he shall face judgment.”
Candace blinks — unsure how to respond.
Ashen Vicar:
“I cash in this contract now.
Tonight… the United States Championship is purified…
by flame.”
He lowers the scroll. The lights flicker.
Candace, as professionally as possible, nods.
BACKSTAGE – CLARKUS KENTUS WITH WILBER & COUNT VLAD
Quick cut to another backstage hall. Clarkus Kentus stands with Wilber Townsend (Terror Fang) and Count Vlad, both clearly displeased.
Clarkus Kentus:
“Wilber, Count Vlad — Ashen Vicar has just announced he’s cashing in a contract for your United States Championship tonight. Do you accept?”
Wilber steps in, chest heaving, eyes burning with the exhaustion of last night’s war with Krampus — but also with fury.
Wilber Townsend:
“Clarkus… I don’t care if Ashen Vicar bought that contract, stole it, summoned it, or carved it out of somebody’s bones.
He wants me tonight?”
He grins.
Wilber Townsend:
“Then tonight… he goes… to… sleep.”
Crowd boos from the arena.
Vlad leans in, slow and serpentine, speaking with razor-sharp disdain.
Count Vlad:
“Ashen Vicar may speak in riddles… but he knows nothing of true darkness.
Wilber accepts.
And the Dominion shall break his spirit… as we break all who stand before us.”
Wilber nods with terrifying conviction.
Wilber Townsend:
“I’m gonna end him… and keep my title.”
Clarkus reacts with his signature over-the-top journalist gusto.
Clarkus Kentus:
“Well THERE you have it! The U.S. Title match is OFFICIAL — Wilber Townsend versus Ashen Vicar TONIGHT!”
Cut back to ringside.
Sam Duffy:
“Fans, you heard it — Ashen Vicar cashing in a contract, and Wilber Townsend has agreed! That match will happen tonight, and what a brutal night to challenge Wilber after what he endured against Krampus!”
Rick Granger:
“I still can’t believe Wilber said yes. The man went through a horror film last night — and now he’s taking on Ashen Vicar? That’s not bravery, Sam. That’s Dark Dominion stubbornness.”
Sam Duffy:
“Well, let’s not forget — Wilber lost that match to Krampus. It was one of the rare cracks we’ve seen in the Dominion armor. And now? He’s stepping into a match with someone who seems to exist on another plane entirely.”
Rick Granger:
“And speaking of falling armor — if Wilber loses again tonight, that’s two major defeats in less than twenty-four hours. You’ve gotta wonder what that does to the Dark Dominion’s grip on power.”
Sam Duffy:
“One thing’s for sure: tonight’s U.S. Title match just became must-see.”
Sam Duffy:
“And folks, with Wilber Townsend now officially defending the United States Championship later tonight against Ashen Vicar, we shift gears to the women’s tag team scene — where a major opportunity is on the line.”
Rick Granger:
“That’s right. The Iron Maidens Tag Team Championships are waiting for their next challengers, and one of the teams we’re about to see is walking into a title match. The other team… might need help getting out of the building.”
Sam Duffy:
“These four women are hungry, ambitious, and looking to make their mark — but with the Dominion Vixens lurking, you never know what’s going to happen.”
Rick Granger:
“Let’s get to the action.”
Festive silver and teal lights dance around the arena as upbeat rock-pop theme “Glitterstrike” by fictional duo Spark & Flare hits the speakers.
Sparkle and Twinkle — The Tinsel Twins — burst onto the stage with synchronized energy, twirling into matching poses. The crowd gives them a warm, enthusiastic pop.
They jog down the ramp, slapping hands, twirling through, and hyping up the fans with bright smiles and high-tempo movement.
Sam Duffy:
“The Tinsel Twins always bring the energy! And tonight, a win puts them one step closer to gold!”
Rick Granger:
“As long as they stay focused and not distracted by the glitter cannons they insist on bringing backstage…”
Sparkle and Twinkle slide into the ring together, bounce off opposite ropes, and meet mid-ring with a synchronized spin and pose as pyro pops in short, colorful bursts.
The lights shift sharply to electric purple as a deep bassline thumps through the speakers. Their theme, “Double Trouble Deluxe” by fictional group Wild Voltage, pulses through the arena.
Fiona and Felicia Cummings strut onto the stage with matching smirks and perfectly choreographed hair flips. Their attitude says "too good for this town," and the Columbia crowd showers them with instant boos.
Rick Granger:
“Oh, here come trouble… squared.”
Sam Duffy:
“And remember, Rick — the winners of this match advance to the Iron Maidens Championship picture. The Cummings Twins know exactly what’s at stake.”
The Cummings Twins saunter down the ramp in perfect unison, ignoring fans, pointing dismissively at the Tinsel Twins, and striking exaggerated, smug poses.
Once in the ring, they corner Sparkle and Twinkle with mocking slow claps — clearly trying to get into their heads.
The referee steps between the teams to prevent pre-match fireworks.
Tony Calibur:
“Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall—”
Tony Calibur:
“—and is a #1 Contender’s Match for the Iron Maidens Tag Team Championships!
Introducing first… the team of Sparkle and Twinkle… THE TINSEL TWINS!”
Huge cheer as the Tinsel Twins strike their coordinated entrance pose.
Tony Calibur:
“And their opponents… representing the Cummings Collective…
Fiona and Felicia… THE CUMMINGS TWINS!”
Boos thunder across the arena as the Cummings Twins raise their arms arrogantly.
‘Honest’ Abe checks all four competitors, signals to the timekeeper —
The bell is about to ring.
From the opening bell, Sparkle takes control by surprising Betsy Cummings with a sharp spin kick that sends the crowd into early cheers. Betsy quickly escapes and tags Felicia, but Sparkle keeps pushing the pace with another spin kick and a sidewalk slam that rattles the ring. The Cummings Twins clearly didn’t expect the Tinsel Twins to come in this hot.
Sam Duffy:
“Sparkle came to play tonight — the Cummings sisters can’t slow her down!”
Felicia tries to grind Sparkle down with a rolling leglock, but Sparkle slips free and tags in Twinkle. The two Twins attempt a double-team rush, but Betsy brilliantly reverses it, flipping out of danger and catching both women off guard with a springboard armdrag that suddenly shifts the momentum.
Rick Granger:
“Say what you want about the Cummings Twins — they can turn things around in a heartbeat!”
The match becomes fast and chaotic as both teams trade combinations. Twinkle fires off a flying body splash, but Betsy answers with a sunset flip. Felicia returns with a monkey flip; Twinkle catches her with a bulldog. Every exchange feels like it could tip the match entirely.
Sparkle tags in again and delivers a series of crowd-popping moves — a FrankenScreamer, a snap suplex, and a LANCE CRAB that nearly forces a submission. Betsy barely escapes and drags Twinkle into the wrong corner, allowing the Cummings Twins to hit back-to-back leaping snapmares that knock the air out of her.
Twinkle somehow musters enough life to roll Betsy up with a sudden schoolgirl, and the referee nearly counts three before Felicia dives in to save the match at the last second.
Sam Duffy:
“That was CLOSE! The Tinsel Twins nearly stole it right there!”
Both sides scramble, tagging frequently to stay alive. Sparkle comes back in firing on all cylinders — missile dropkick, moonsault, another body press — and the crowd senses momentum building.
Felicia tries one last desperate counter, but Sparkle catches her flush with the FrankenScreamer, planting her square in the middle of the ring.
Sparkle hooks the leg—
1!
2!
3!
The bell rings and the arena erupts as the Tinsel Twins hug in the center of the ring, thrilled with their hard-earned victory.
Sam Duffy:
“The Tinsel Twins just punched their ticket to the Iron Maidens Tag Team Championship!”
Rick Granger:
“And the Cummings Twins are rolling out of here faster than they rolled in!”
The celebration lasts only a moment… because something far more dangerous is about to hit the arena.
The Tinsel Twins barely get their hands raised before the lights in the arena drop to black.
A cold violet glow spreads across the stage.
Then—
A piercing scream-like note from “Venom in Velvet” hits.
Selena Blackfang, Talia Nocturne, Korbi (Viperfang), Mina Harker, and Grizelda step out from behind the curtain like a wave of living darkness.
Sam Duffy:
“Oh no… NO. The Dominion Vixens are here!”
Rick Granger:
“This is a five-on-two situation! The Tinsel Twins are sitting ducks!”
The five Vixens stalk down the ramp, fanning out around the ring like a pack of wolves. Sparkle and Twinkle brace themselves—
But before the Vixens even slide in, the Cummings Twins shove Sparkle and Twinkle forward and bolt out of the opposite side of the ring.
They run up the ramp YELLING BACK as though they were the ones attacked.
Rick Granger:
“Look at the Cummings Twins! Cowards! Complete cowards!”
Sam Duffy:
“I don’t think either one even looked back!”
Inside the ring, Sparkle and Twinkle stand alone.
And the Vixens pounce.
Selena nails Sparkle with a Yakuza kick.
Talia drops Twinkle with a Slingblade.
Korbi stomps Sparkle into the mat, Mina pulls Twinkle up by her hair for a vicious elbow, and Grizelda lets out a screaming banshee wail before launching herself into Sparkle with a running knee.
It is a mauling.
Five-on-two.
Systematic.
Cruel.
The crowd is BOOING at full volume.
Sam Duffy:
“This is a massacre! Someone has GOT to stop this!”
Rick Granger:
“Nobody stops the Dominion Vixens unless they WANT to die!”
Selena grabs Sparkle by the chin and hisses something unheard into her face. Talia holds Twinkle down by the throat as Korbi and Mina stomp her ribs in rhythm.
And then—
A NEW SOUND HITS.
A rising howl.
Then a pounding rock anthem.
Scarlett Howl’s theme “Starfall Huntress” blasts across the arena.
The crowd POPS HUGE.
Scarlett and Ruby Howl sprint down the ramp, sliding into the ring and going straight at Selena and Korbi.
Ruby tackles Grizelda into the corner.
Scarlett trades blows with Selena to a massive ovation.
For the first time, the Vixens backpedal.
Sam Duffy:
“The Howl Sisters are here! The cavalry has arrived!”
But it’s still five against four…
until—
BOOM!
A wall of red, white, and blue pyro erupts across the entrance.
The crowd erupts even louder as The All American Sweethearts — Ainsley America and LeePurty Belle — burst onto the stage, waving mini flags like they’re storming the beaches of wrestling justice.
They sprint to the ring with all the patriotic fire of a motivational poster.
Rick Granger:
“I don’t believe it! The Sweethearts are joining the fight?!”
Ainsley hits the ring and throws a shockingly crisp clothesline that flips Korbi backward. LeePurty catches Mina with a running knee. They’re suddenly throwing hands with actual intensity — and the crowd is loving it.
Outnumbered for the first time, the Vixens retreat under the bottom rope, regrouping at ringside, hissing and clutching at their wounds.
Selena snarls at Scarlett, pointing the Ladies World Title directly at her.
Inside the ring, the Howls help Sparkle and Twinkle up…
and the Sweethearts immediately insert themselves front and center, striking a heroic pose as though they saved the day.
Ainsley grabs a mic, breathing heavily but grinning like she just ended world hunger.
Ainsley America:
“Don’t worry, America!
Your SWEETHEARTS were here to save women’s wrestling!
You’re welcome!”
The crowd — initially cheering — starts to boo.
LeePurty fans herself dramatically.
LeePurty Belle:
“Sisters, sisters, sisters… don’t thank us all at once!
We know we’re inspiring.
It’s part of our burden.”
Scarlett looks confused.
Ruby rolls her eyes so hard she nearly falls over.
Twinkle and Sparkle exchange exhausted, annoyed looks.
Sam Duffy:
“Well… that didn’t take long.”
Rick Granger:
“They had ONE shining moment of heroism — and immediately drowned it in ego.”
The Howls step between the Sweethearts and the recovering Tinsel Twins, clearly not in the mood for theatrics.
Ainsley pats Scarlett on the shoulder like she’s giving permission.
Ainsley America:
“It’s okay, darling.
We’ll let you shine again someday.”
BOOOOOOOOOO.
Ruby Howl:
“You two better get out of our faces before YOU need rescuing.”
Ainsley and LeePurty gasp theatrically and flounce back toward the ropes, turning the crowd against them all over again as they depart the ring in exaggerated patriotic struts.
💥 THE SEGMENT ENDS WITH TENSION ON ALL SIDES
The Vixens glower from the stage before disappearing behind the curtain.
Scarlett and Ruby stand tall in the ring.
The Tinsel Twins struggle back to their feet, thanking the crowd.
The Sweethearts pose on the ramp as if they’re national heroes.
The tag division is officially in chaos.
The arena lights dim to a cold blue haze as a deep mechanical rumble vibrates through the building. The audience rises to their feet as chains rattle overhead.
Sam Duffy:
“Ladies and gentlemen… it’s time.”
Rick Granger:
“Time for two men who can’t settle it any other way — inside a steel cage!”
The structure begins lowering from the rafters, descending slowly, ominously, the metal clanking as it drops into place around the ring. Camera shots sweep across the crowd, capturing half excitement, half dread.
The cage settles onto the ring apron with a thunderous CLANG, echoing in every corner of the arena.
The lights shift to a burnt orange and silver palette as the opening riff of “Frontier’s Edge” by the fictional hard-rock band Dead Man’s Compass hits the speakers. The crowd perks up immediately.
Jasper steps out onto the ramp with no theatrics, no entourage, no faction — just a determined look and taped fists ready for a fight. This is a man defined by grit, not mystique.
Sam Duffy:
“Here comes Jasper — a man who has fought tooth and nail for everything he’s earned in HCW.”
Rick Granger:
“And just a reminder, folks — despite the similar name, Jasper has ZERO connection to the Dark Dominion. No Fang lineage, no ties to Vlad, no nothing. This man stands alone.”
Jasper looks up at the cage briefly, then nods, accepting the challenge. He makes his way down the ramp, slapping the cage wall once with purpose before entering through the door. He paces the ring, testing the steel, loosening his shoulders, completely unshaken by the imposing structure around him.
The arena erupts in darkness.
Then:
A deep, predatory growl rumbles through the speakers, followed by the pounding drums and distorted synth of “Blood Moon Descent” by fictional industrial metal act Nighthunter’s Oath.
A blood-red spotlight snaps onto the stage.
From the curtain emerges Beastfang, dragging chains and snarling like something only half-human. Behind him walks Count Vlad, composed, regal, and radiating sinister confidence.
Sam Duffy:
“Like it or not, Beastfang is one of the most dangerous men in HCW — and with Count Vlad behind him, that danger only multiplies.”
Rick Granger:
“Vlad can’t get inside that cage, but I guarantee you he’ll find a way to make his presence felt.”
Vlad whispers something quietly into Beastfang’s ear — a command? A warning? A ritual? — and Beastfang slams his head against the cage wall in response, shaking the steel.
Jasper stands his ground, glaring across the ring.
Beastfang steps through the cage door, pacing in circles like an apex predator before locking eyes with Jasper.
Vlad remains outside the cage, hands clasped behind his back, eyes watching Jasper like a hawk sizing up prey.
Sam Duffy:
“This is going to be brutality from start to finish.”
Rick Granger:
“Two men enter… only one climbs out with the right to challenge Van Helsing for the TV Title.”
The door shuts.
The lock clicks.
The referee lifts the chain to signal readiness.
The crowd is on its feet.
The bell is about to ring.
The bell rings and the crowd roars as two forces collide inside the steel. Jasper comes out swinging with raw, grounded aggression — smashing Beastfang between the ropes and cage, trying to wear the monster down early. But Beastfang absorbs the impact like it’s nothing, growling as he shoulders Jasper aside.
Sam Duffy:
“Jasper’s strategy is clear — use the cage as a weapon before Beastfang can.”
Rick Granger:
“And before Beastfang uses Jasper as a weapon.”
The fight becomes primal quickly. Jasper lands stiff kicks that echo through the arena, but Beastfang answers with a deadlift German that nearly folds Jasper in half. Every suplex rattles the cage, every slam sends the crowd into gasps.
The danger grows when both men collide into the referee — Jasper’s momentum knocks ‘Honest’ Abe down in a heap.
Sam Duffy:
“Ref down! Ref down! Oh no…”
Rick Granger:
“This is Beastfang’s DREAM scenario. No rules. No eyes. No consequences.”
With the referee incapacitated, Beastfang’s instincts sharpen. The Dominion monster reaches into his boot and pulls out brass knuckles, flashing a wicked grin toward Vlad outside the cage.
Sam Duffy:
“Oh come on! You have GOT to be kidding me!”
Beastfang CRACKS Jasper in the skull. Blood sprays the canvas. The crowd erupts into furious boos.
Beastfang plants Jasper again with a violent spinning back suplex, then pounces for the kill. As Abe stirs awake, Beastfang hits the F-5000, driving the air out of Jasper’s lungs.
He hooks the leg.
1!
2!
3!
Beastfang scores the first pinfall.
But the match isn’t over.
He scrambles for the cage wall, climbing with frantic, snarling intensity. He gets halfway up—
Jasper hops up and grabs Beastfang by the leg—
And pulls—
And Beastfang CRASHES back to the mat.
Rick Granger:
“He HAD IT! Beastfang HAD THE MATCH WON!”
Sam Duffy:
“Jasper was not going to let him get away that easy and now, he has a lifeline!”
Beastfang pounds the mat in fury as the countdown begins.
Jasper is bloody. Wobbling. Struggling to get to his feet.
But he rises.
The crowd begins chanting:
“JAS-PER! JAS-PER! JAS-PER!”
Beastfang charges — Jasper answers with a clothesline.
Beastfang swings a wild shot — Jasper ducks and unleashes a Bloodfang Bomb that shakes the ring.
Sam Duffy:
“Where did THAT come from?!”
Rick Granger:
“That was pure instinct! Pure survival!”
Jasper covers—
1!
2!
NO! Beastfang kicks out!
The crowd deflates — but Jasper does NOT stop.
He hits a gutwrench suplex.
Then another.
Then rams Beastfang into the cage wall so hard it dents.
The arena is vibrating.
Jasper hooks the leg—
1!
2!
3!
JASPER GETS THE PINFALL!
We are now in the sudden-death race to escape.
Both men snap toward the cage wall like wild animals sensing the end.
Beastfang claws upward, desperate — not for victory, but to avoid the humiliation of failure.
Jasper climbs beside him, blood dripping down his face, hands shaking, but fueled by something deeper.
The camera cuts to Vlad at ringside — his eyes burning in disbelief.
Sam Duffy:
“Vlad is watching his monster fall apart!”
On the cage wall, Beastfang throws wild elbows.
Jasper nearly falls.
The crowd gasps.
He catches the mesh — BARELY — and fires a stiff kick to Beastfang’s jaw.
Beastfang slips—
Teeters—
AND FALLS, smashing onto the mat below.
The arena erupts.
Jasper keeps climbing—
Higher—
Higher—
His body trembling—
He reaches the top.
He looks out over the crowd—
And then drops to the floor.
THE BELL RINGS.
JASPER HAS WON THE STEEL CAGE MATCH.
JASPER IS THE NEW #1 CONTENDER FOR THE TV TITLE.
The Columbia crowd EXPLODES in deafening approval.
Vlad is motionless, staring through the cage with unblinking fury. Beastfang sits up, enraged, pounding the mat with both fists as Jasper collapses against the barricade, exhausted, victorious, and unbroken.
Sam Duffy:
“HE DID IT! Jasper just survived the Dark Dominion’s beast and EARNED his shot at Van Helsing!”
Rick Granger:
“I don’t know how. I don’t know WHY his body didn’t shut down. But Jasper climbed out of HELL tonight!”
Jasper raises a bloodied fist as medical staff rush to him.
Camera cuts to Vlad, seething.
He has seen his monster beaten —
but he is taking this surprisingly well.
Jasper leaves to a huge pop from the crowd. Beastfang leaves the cage and meets Vlad at the steps. Vlad whispers something to him and they head to the back.
Fade out.
The crowd is still roaring from Jasper’s cage escape victory, replay highlights still flashing on the tron as we cut back to the announce desk.
Sam Duffy:
“Ladies and gentlemen… what we just witnessed was one of the most grueling steel cage battles we’ve ever seen. Jasper is now the number-one contender for the Television Championship — but at what cost?”
Rick Granger:
“At the cost of his blood, his spine, and half his life expectancy! And look at Beastfang — he couldn’t even climb out after scoring the first pinfall. You know Count Vlad is furious.”
Sam Duffy:
“And speaking of Dominion frustrations… the night isn’t over for them yet. Because coming up next is our main event — Wilber Townsend defending the United States Championship.”
Rick Granger:
“And let’s be very clear: Wilber is NOT walking into this match at 100%. Krampus absolutely mauled him less than twenty-four hours ago.”
Sam Duffy:
“And now Ashen Vicar — a man we still know almost nothing about — has produced a valid contract and is cashing it in tonight.”
Rick Granger:
“After what Wilber endured? That’s not strategy. That’s a ritual sacrifice.”
Sam quietly inhales, the tone shifting from excitement to dread.
Sam Duffy:
“Fans… this main event could reshape the entire landscape of HCW.”
BACKSTAGE – WILBER PREPARES
We fade to a dimly lit locker room.
Wilber Townsend sits on a bench, shirt off, body covered in bruises from the Krampus fight last night. A trainer tapes his ribs while Wilber grits his teeth, refusing to show weakness.
Count Vlad stands behind him, arms folded, eyes burning with a cold and dangerous intensity. His face betrays nothing — but his posture says everything:
Beastfang’s loss has shaken him.
He slowly circles Wilber like a general before battle.
Wilber rises, wincing but determined, and tightens the TV Title around his waist.
Vlad places a hand on Wilber’s shoulder.
He doesn’t speak.
He doesn’t need to.
The look alone is a command:
Do not fail.
Wilber nods once —
then heads toward gorilla position, breathing heavily but resolute.
Cut back to ringside.
Sam Duffy:
“Wilber Townsend is hurt… he’s exhausted… and he’s stepping into the unknown against the Ashen Vicar.”
Rick Granger:
“And the Dominion cannot afford another loss tonight. If Wilber falls, they lose one of their last lines of power.”
Sam Duffy:
“Here we go, folks. The U.S. Championship is on the line… and things are about to get dark.”
Lights begin to lower.
A strange, flickering glow forms on the stage.
We are ready for the main event entrances.
The arena lights die suddenly, plunging the Columbia Coliseum into pitch darkness.
A low, rumbling chant echoes through the speakers — not music, but something ritualistic, unsettling, multi-voiced, as if whispered by dozens somewhere just beyond the walls. Then a single white flame ignites on the stage, flickering upward in a swirl of smoke.
A deep, resonant gong strikes.
On the second gong, a hooded figure steps into the glow of the white flame.
Ashen Vicar.
He stands perfectly still, hands folded, head lowered.
The flame behind him casts a tall, distorted shadow that stretches unnaturally across the stage.
The whispers grow louder. Almost rhythmic. Almost words.
Sam Duffy:
“I’ve seen a lot of debuts in HCW… but never anything like this.”
Rick Granger:
“I don’t even know if I’m supposed to cheer, boo, or start confessing.”
Vicar lifts his head slowly, revealing the pale, expressionless mask beneath the hood. He extends an open palm, and the flame behind him extinguishes instantly — plunging the stage into darkness again.
When the lights return — deep gray, like storm clouds — Vicar is already halfway down the ramp, gliding more than walking, never breaking eye contact with the ring.
He enters between the ropes with deliberate, ceremonial precision, then stands motionless at center ring, hands clasped as if in prayer.
The whispers fade.
Silence fills the arena.
It is unnerving.
A blood-red spotlight slams onto the stage.
The guttural roar of “Beast Within the Fang” by fictional band Iron Womb blasts through the arena. The fans erupt — not because they love Wilber, but because EVERYONE knows business is about to pick up.
Wilber steps out, bruised, taped ribs visible beneath a torn vest, face still marked by last night’s war with Krampus. But he carries the United States Championship over his shoulder with absolute pride.
Behind him stands Count Vlad.
Slow. Silent. Seething.
His eyes never leave the ring — never leave the man waiting inside.
For Vlad, this match is no mere title defense — it is a necessary corrective to the earlier humiliation of Beastfang’s loss.
Wilber slams his fist into his chest and points at Ashen Vicar.
Sam Duffy:
“There is no quit in Wilber Townsend — injured or not!”
Rick Granger:
“And there’s no escape for him either. Look at Vlad. Losing another championship tonight might just tear the Dominion apart.”
Wilber and Vlad walk together down the ramp — Wilber stalking forward like a predator, Vlad gliding behind him like a shadow.
Wilber slams the belt against the cage wall and yells:
“YOU’RE NOT TAKIN’ THIS FROM ME!”
But Vicar does not react.
Not even a blink.
Wilber enters the ring and immediately gets nose-to-mask with Vicar.
Vicar finally moves — tilting his head ever so slightly, as if studying Wilber's soul for fractures.
The crowd murmurs.
It is tense.
Electric.
Almost uncomfortable.
Vlad remains at ringside, hands folded behind his back, waiting for the moment when his monster either triumphs… or falls.
Wilber hands the U.S. Title to ‘Honest’ Abe, never breaking eye contact with Vicar.
Abe holds the belt up.
Sam Duffy:
“Ladies and gentlemen… THIS is our main event.”
Rick Granger:
“Grab your rosaries, folks… it’s about to get weird.”
Abe signals to the timekeeper.
The bell is about to ring.
The cage door clangs shut.
Vicar stands perfectly still, head bowed, hands folded.
Wilber paces like a wounded but enraged grizzly bear, bruised ribs taped, but eyes sharp and hungry.
He points at Vicar and snarls:
“I told you—YOU’RE GOING TO SLEEP.”
The bell rings.
Wilber EXPLODES forward with a fury that shocks the crowd, lifting Vicar clean off the mat with a devastating sideslam. The impact bounces Vicar into the steel mesh.
Sam Duffy:
“Wilber is MAULING him! This is a man possessed!”
Rick Granger:
“Vicar may have cashed in a contract — but I don’t think he cashed in wisely!”
Vicar tries to counter with a short-arm lariat —
Wilber BLOCKS IT —
and blasts him with a leaping elbow smash that echoes through the metal walls.
Every strike is stiff.
Every slam is violent.
Wilber is fighting like a man who cannot afford to lose.
He grinds Vicar’s face toward the cage — Vicar tries to reverse —
Wilber reverses THAT —
SCOOP POWERSLAM!
The ring shakes.
Vicar barely rolls to a knee before Wilber steamrolls him with another powerslam — but Vicar fires back with a “Pale Revelation” piledriver that spikes Wilber onto the mat.
Both men rise.
Blood running.
Breaths heavy.
And Wilber roars—
GO. TO. SLEEP.
Wilber hoists Vicar onto his shoulders—
GO TO SLEEP CONNECTS CLEAN.
COVER.
1!
2—
VICAR KICKS OUT.
The crowd gasps.
Sam Duffy:
“He kicked out! He kicked out of Wilber’s kill shot!”
Rick Granger:
“That wasn’t a kickout — that was an act of demonology!”
Wilber doesn’t hesitate — he drives Vicar into the ringpost, nearly folding him in half, and goes for another pin—
Kickout. Again.
He clamps on a chinlock, wrenching with every ounce of power left in his battered body. Another cover.
Kickout.
Wilber rains down hammering blows.
Another cover.
Vicar reverses—
AND TRAPS WILBER INTO A SHOCK PIN!
1!
2!
3!
ASHEN VICAR SCORES THE FIRST PIN.
Ashen Vicar rises, expression unreadable behind the mask. He attempts the climb —
But slips.
Falls back to the mat.
Cannot escape.
The crowd is on its feet.
Sam Duffy:
“This is STILL Wilber’s match to win! He’s dominated from the bell!”
Rick Granger:
“But how much more can he take after Krampus last night?!”
Wilber digs deep.
He fights like a man refusing to let the Dominion lose another title.
He blasts Vicar with a running senton —
Vicar answers with the White Flame Purge, nearly taking Wilber’s head off.
Wilber recovers—
Hits another senton—
COVER—
Vicar kicks out AGAIN.
Wilber wipes blood from his mouth.
He can barely stand.
But he drags Vicar up and—
GO TO SLEEP — AGAIN!!!
He hits it perfectly.
Vicar collapses.
1!
2!
3!
Wilber ties with a pin each!
The arena ERUPTS.
Both men claw toward the cage wall.
Wilber climbs with desperation —
Vicar climbs with eerie calm.
They trade blows high on the steel.
Vicar strikes first—
WHITE FLAME FOREARM to the ribs.
Wilber nearly loses his grip.
Vicar climbs faster—
Wilber tries to catch him—
Vicar slips over the top—
And drops to the floor.
ASHEN VICAR HAS ESCAPED THE CAGE.
ASHEN VICAR HAS WON THE UNITED STATES CHAMPIONSHIP.
Inside the ring, Wilber kneels.
Bloodied.
Spent.
Emotionally broken.
The cage begins to rise, metal clanking as it ascends into the rafters.
Ashen Vicar stands below it, motionless.
‘Honest’ Abe raises Vicar’s arm —
Vicar lifts the U.S. Championship high above his head —
And the white flame symbol flickers across the arena screens.
Sam Duffy:
“This… this changes EVERYTHING.”
Rick Granger:
“A new force has entered HCW… and he just took a title from the Dominion in his FIRST SHOT AT A TITLE!”
Wilber exits the ring.
Vlad steps beside him.
Vlad says nothing.
He doesn’t look angry.
He doesn’t look disappointed.
He looks calculating.
Wilber hangs his head low.
He lost the match.
And maybe something deeper.
Together, they walk up the ramp…
In silence.
Sam Duffy:
“Fans… thank you for joining us for one of the most shocking nights in Voltage history. Jasper earned a shot at the TV Title, the Tinsel Twins survived a Vixen onslaught, and now—Ashen Vicar stands atop HCW as the brand-new United States Champion.”
Rick Granger:
“We don’t know where he came from. We don’t know who handed him that contract. But we now know what he can do… and it should scare EVERYONE.”
Sam Duffy:
“For Rick Granger, I’m Sam Duffy — and this has been another unforgettable installment of the HCW Wrestling Newsletter. We’ll see you tomorrow night on HCW Live Wire!”
Fade out on Ashen Vicar, still holding the U.S. Title toward the heavens, bathed in ghostly white light.
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