Aired - August 24, 2025
SHOW OPENING MONTAGE
Music: A moody synthwave track rises beneath the chilling chime of a cracked ice bell.
NARRATOR (Fenwick Grimbough) (deep, ominous tone):
“In the frozen heart of the North... where the weak freeze and only the ruthless rise…”
(Blizzard static slams to black. Logo flashes: CHILL FACTOR)
NARRATOR (Fenwick Grimbough):
“This... is CHILL FACTOR. NPCW’s most brutal proving ground.”
🎵 [Montage Begins – Driving guitars kick in with a pulsing beat. Each clip hits like a punch.]
👹 The Demonic Legion (Krampus, Jack Frost, Abaddon)
A desolate, darkened backstage hallway flickers under failing fluorescent lights. Krampus scratches at the walls with iron claws. Jack Frost glides through with a trail of rime and frostbite, whispering ancient curses. Abaddon appears from shadow, his face obscured, holding a charred doll.
The three converge around a flaming sigil on the floor. The lights shatter.
[SFX: Whispers, flames igniting, a demonic growl that fades into static]
🐺 The Wolf Pack’s Big Bad Wolf
The crowd is roaring under dark violet lights. Big Bad Wolf, sweat-soaked and snarling, climbs the ropes and raises the Northern Lights Championship overhead. Behind him, the rest of the Wolf Pack howl in victory. The belt gleams like an icy crown.
[SFX: Echoed wolf howl blending into guitar feedback]
🌫️ Sandman vs. Jolly Green
Inside the ring under cold blue lights, Sandman clutches Jolly Green from behind — his arms like chains — locking in the Icy Slumber Sleeper Hold. The towering Jolly stumbles, eyes fluttering shut, dropping to his knees before collapsing.
[SFX: Deep breath, fading heartbeat, hush from crowd]
🎅 Santa Claus vs. Monster’s Bash
The ring quakes as Monster’s Bash — Frankenstein’s Monster, Kong Ogre, and Dragon King — corner Santa Claus, step by ominous step. Santa stands firm in the center of the ring, fists clenched. A final cut shows the monsters lunging — the screen freezes just before impact.
[SFX: Beastly roars, stomping thunder, chain rattle]
🔥 Final shot:
A line of NPCW Men's Division talent appears in silhouette across a snowy, cracked arena floor. Ice shatters under their feet as they take a step forward.
NARRATOR (Fenwick Grimbough):“At the North Pole... the cold doesn't kill.
It crowns a king.”
Bold, frosted steel text slams on-screen:
CHILL FACTOR
THE FIRE BURNS COLDER HERE
LIVE FROM THE NORTH POLE ARENA
THIS WEEK’S RUNDOWN
[After the opening montage ends graphics detailing the matches airing tonight begin to display with KC Rogers voicing over the details …]
CROWD AND WELCOMING
After the opening NPCW montage plays with pyro and snow effects blasting in the arena, the cameras cut to a packed house. The audience is LOUD, waving signs, wearing their favorite merch, and holding up handmade creations.
Signs spotted in the crowd:
“RUDOLPH IS OUR HERO!” (painted antlers on top of the sign)
“FREE THE FLIPPERS!” (with doodles of the Misfits of Mayhem)
“SLEEP WITH THE SANDMAN” (half creepy, half funny)
“MOONSHADOW MADE ME BELIEVE”
“WITCHES RULE, BOMBSHELLS DROOL”
“VAN HELSING HUNTS FOR GOLD”
“BIG BAD WOLF EATS JOBBERS”
“LILITH + ABADDON = APOCALYPSE” (crossed-out Robin Hood Hat)
“HAPPILY NEVER AFTER” (with a crown drawn on it for Prince Charming)
Merchandise shirts called out by the camera:
Rudolph “North Pole Champion” shirt with red glow-in-the-dark lettering.
A Blonde Bombshells crop top with sequined lettering.
“Sinister Klaus — Naughty List 24/7” holiday sweater tee.
Sandman’s “One More Nightmare” shirt.
Witch’s Coven pentagram hoodie.
Misfits of Mayhem foam flipper “WE RIOT TONIGHT” gloves.
*Then the camera cuts to a male fan front row: he’s wearing a *crimson shirt with bold white letters across the chest — “HE’S COMING” — and covering his face with a replica White Wolf mask. The crowd around him buzzes, pointing and chanting.
Cut to ringside where HAMMER WASHINGTON sits in his sharp suit, glasses perched, his voice warm and commanding. Beside him in his leather vest and old-school shades is BRICK BRODY, already scowling like the world owes him money.
HAMMER WASHINGTON: “Welcome, everybody, to another ice-cold, action-packed edition of CHILL FACTOR! We’re comin’ to you live from the frozen north, and folks — I can feel the electricity in this arena tonight! The NPCW faithful are on their feet, signs in the air, passion in their voices — and partner, they are READY for a wild ride!”
BRICK BRODY: “Wild ride? Ham-bone, this ain’t Disneyland, it’s the fight business. These people didn’t pay to see a roller coaster, they paid to see blood, bruises, and broken teeth — and by the end of tonight, if they’re lucky, that’s exactly what they’ll get. This is NPCW, not that watered-down trash you see on other networks.”
HAMMER WASHINGTON: “Well, Brick, you’re not wrong — we’ve got a stacked card tonight, folks! First, you’re gonna see Negropolis step inside the ring with one-half of the Beasts, Beast Number One, in a heavyweight slugfest that’s sure to shake these rafters.”
BRICK BRODY: “Two monsters who don’t give a damn about rules, and that’s how I like it. If the ring doesn’t collapse tonight, it’s an insult to gravity.”
HAMMER WASHINGTON: “And that’s not all — Abaddon, the Demon of Destruction, collides with Sinbad the Sailor. A fight born from chaos, and I promise you this one’s gonna get ugly.”
BRICK BRODY: “Sinbad better hope he packed more than a storybook and a boat tonight, ‘cause Abaddon don’t wrestle, he don’t perform — he destroys. And if you’re standin’ across from him, you’re just a crash test dummy in the way.”
HAMMER WASHINGTON: “And later tonight, folks, the debut of royalty! Prince Charming steps into an NPCW ring to face Heracles, the Greek powerhouse! And I gotta tell ya, the world’s watching to see if this prince is as perfect as he says he is.”
BRICK BRODY: “Oh, I already like the guy. Any man who can strut in here in a cape and tell the world he’s better than ‘em? That’s a man after my own heart. Heracles? Yeah, tough guy, big muscles, but I’ve seen a hundred of him come and go. Prince Charming’s got brains and arrogance — that’s a killer combo, Ham-bone.”
HAMMER WASHINGTON: “And in our main event, what a collision — the Universal Champion, Sinister Klaus, squares off against one of Santa’s toughest reindeer, Donner! Klaus has been on a warpath heading into Shadowfall, but Donner ain’t no pushover. He’s got power, he’s got grit, and he’s got the Reindeer Coalition behind him.”
BRICK BRODY: “Forget the Reindeer Coalition — all Donner’s got is a one-way ticket to Klaus-town, and brother, they don’t serve milk and cookies there. They serve pain.”
HAMMER WASHINGTON: “And let’s not forget — Shadowfall is just one week away, only on the Scrooge Sports Network! Titles on the line, grudges to settle, and the Wheel of Misfortunes ready to turn. You do not want to miss it!”
BRICK BRODY: “Hey, speaking of people who should stay outta business — did I hear Dave The Brute Kent’s been sniffin’ around HCW lately? If the guy’s smart, he’ll keep his nose buried down there and not in our show tonight. Otherwise, I’ll personally shove it back in his skull.”
HAMMER WASHINGTON: “Easy there, Brick, we’ve got enough fights scheduled as it is! Folks, let’s take it backstage to our General Manager, Fenwick Grimbough, for another edition of… Grim Tidings!”
GRIM TIDINGS
(A Message From Director of Rules and Regulations, Fenwick Grimbough)
The camera cuts to the backstage office of General Manager Fenwick Grimbough. The old, cantankerous GM sits behind his desk stacked with papers, contracts, and an ominous black candle burning beside him. He looks up, adjusts his crooked glasses, and scowls at the camera.
FENWICK GRIMBOUGH:
“Listen up, you rabid little mongrels. I’ve got announcements, and you’re gonna hear ‘em whether you like it or not.”
(slams a rolled-up parchment on his desk)
“First order of business — next week at Shadowfall, Sinbad will indeed face Sandman in the Wheel of Misfortunes match. The wheel is polished, the chains are tightened, and believe me, it’s lookin’ hungry.”
(leans forward, jabbing a finger)
“Second — Prince Charming, if you think you can just waltz into my ring, spoutin’ poetry and flashing teeth, you’d better back it up tonight against Heracles. ‘Cause if you fail, your royal carriage turns into a pumpkin real quick around here.”
(cackles dryly, then snarls)
“And finally — I’ve had enough of locker room freeloaders and outside interference. If ANYONE not booked tonight sticks their nose where it don’t belong… consider your contract hanging by a string. And I’m the one with the scissors.”
Grimbough smirks coldly, leaning back in his chair as the camera fades back to the arena.
Hammer Washington: “Fans, we are ready to kick things off here tonight with a battle of two powerhouses! On one side, the rugged woodsman of the north—the Huntsman! And across from him, the massive, unmovable mountain of muscle, Jolly Green! This one is gonna be a test of strength if I’ve ever seen one.”
Brick Brody: “Yeah, yeah, Hammer. Two big boys trying to prove who’s stronger. Back in my day, you didn’t need fancy music or smoke machines—you just showed up at the bar, found the biggest guy in the room, and threw him through a table. That’s what this is gonna feel like. Old school smash-mouth.”
Hammer: “And we’re underway! They lock up, and Jolly Green immediately powers Huntsman up—ohhh, BACKBREAKER right across the spine!”
Brick: “Ha! That’s how you start a fight! Forget about testing the waters, just break a man in half early. Huntsman better check his ribs because Jolly ain’t playin’.”
Hammer: “Huntsman trying to fight back, scoops him up—slingshot suplex! But Jolly Green answers right back with a CRADLE SLAM! My word, both men dropping bombs this early.”
Brick: “That’s a bar fight exchange right there, Hammer. You hit me, I hit you harder. Nobody’s walkin’ out fresh.”
Hammer: “Jolly Green presses in again—clubbing offense—but Huntsman trying to block. No, Jolly Green gets the better of it!”
Brick: “Huntsman looks like he’s chopping firewood and forgot the axe. Jolly Green’s just steamrolling him.”
Hammer: “Big collision! Huntsman nails him with that Woodsman Uppercut, but Jolly Green snatches him—SUPLEX! Good heavens, the ring shook!”
Brick: “Finally, some impact! That’s the way wrestling’s supposed to look—not pretty, just painful.”
Hammer: “Oh no, Jolly Green scoops him up—POWERBOMB! Absolutely planted Huntsman into the canvas!”
Brick: “Beautiful. That’s the kinda move that separates the men from the ballet dancers in tights. That’s a fight ender right there.”
Hammer: “Huntsman showing some fight! Ace Crusher! He’s still got life in him!”
Brick: “Eh, got lucky. Even a drunk with a barstool can land a shot once in a while. Let’s see if he can keep it goin’.”
Hammer: “Another Ace Crusher in the eighth minute! He’s rallying!”
Brick: “Fine. Maybe the guy’s got more fight than I gave him credit for—but it won’t last. Not against a tank like Green.”
Hammer: “Jolly Green with a SMASH WITH THE KNEE! Right to the jaw! Huntsman folded up like laundry!”
Brick: “That’s what happens when you get too cute. Huntsman tried to string moves together, and boom—lights out with one knee. Old school. Effective.”
Hammer: “Huntsman with a delayed gutwrench! Incredible power! But Jolly fires back with suplex after suplex. Huntsman trying slams, but every time, Jolly Green answers!”
Brick: “You don’t out-muscle a man like Jolly Green. That’s suicide. You gotta find a way to break a leg, gouge an eye—something mean. But this Huntsman? Too proud. Too dumb.”
Hammer: “Shoulder block from Jolly Green! Huntsman crashes down! And now a CRADLE SLAM—he’s going for the cover!”
Crowd: ONE…TWO…
Hammer: “Huntsman kicks out! Just barely!”
Brick: “Stupid kid. Should’ve stayed down. All he’s buying himself now is more pain.”
Hammer: “Huntsman tries another Ace Crusher—wait! Jolly Green reverses—SUPLEX! Right into the mat!”
Referee & Crowd: ONE…TWO…THREE!
Hammer: “And that’s it! Jolly Green with a thunderous suplex to seal the victory over the Huntsman here tonight!”
Brick: “Like I said, Hammer—power beats pride every damn time. Jolly Green fought like a man. Huntsman fought like a boy scout trying to earn a badge. And what happened? SPLAT. Welcome to the big leagues, kid.”
Hammer: “Fans, what a hard-hitting opener this was! Jolly Green stands tall, but Huntsman showed incredible toughness. Don’t go anywhere, we’ve got plenty more action ahead on Chill Factor!”
GODLY DECREE
The Scene: Mt. Olympus
The screen fades into a sweeping shot of clouds swirling in a violent golden storm, lightning crackling across the heavens. The camera soars upward, revealing the gleaming spires of Mt. Olympus, the home of the gods. At the center of this divine citadel, a massive white stone throne rests at the top of a grand marble staircase, towering over the chamber.
Seated upon the throne is Zeus, his silver beard flowing, his eyes blazing with power. In his hand rests a jagged lightning bolt, faint sparks leaping off it with every movement. Beside him stands Athena, clad in gleaming bronze armor, her spear in hand, her gaze sharp as a hawk’s. She watches in silence, a sentinel of wisdom and war.
At the foot of the steps, kneeling on the marble floor, are Ares and Mars, the self-styled Gods of War, their heads bowed in shame before the King of Olympus. Behind them, standing at attention, is Heracles, arms crossed, expression grim as he silently witnesses his fellow warriors’ humiliation.
Zeus (voice like rolling thunder): "My so-called Gods of War… you are a disappointment."
A crack of thunder shakes the chamber. Ares and Mars flinch but dare not look up.
Ares (bowed low): "Forgive us, Mighty Zeus!"
Mars (pounding his fist to the ground): "We beg your mercy, Lord of Olympus!"
Zeus (rising from his throne, booming with fury): "You lost… to the insignificant gnats that call themselves the Amigos! Fleas! Mortals who should bow to your divine might — and yet you laid flat upon your backs before them! You are meant to rule these vermin, not crawl in the dirt beside them!"
Zeus raises his hand, a bolt of lightning exploding against the marble floor just inches from where Ares kneels. The war god snarls, his pride wounded but his fear keeping him prostrate.
Ares (voice trembling, but defiant): "We will not fail you again, Father of Thunder! By sword, by fire, by blood — we will crush those mortals beneath our boots!"
Mars (snarling): "We will bring ruin upon NPCW itself! None shall stand when the Gods of War descend!"
Athena finally speaks, her tone cool and cutting, each word sharpened like her spear.
Athena: "Your boasts are hollow unless they are proven. Zeus does not reward failure twice. If you falter again, even your titles as Gods of War will not save you."
The camera cuts back to Zeus, his eyes glowing with fury as he points the lightning bolt downward at his trembling generals.
Zeus: "Then prove it. Begin with the so-called Merry Band. Break their bodies, shatter their spirits. At Shadowfall, show the world that to defy Olympus is to invite annihilation. But mark me, Ares. Mark me, Mars…"
Zeus slams the lightning bolt down, sending a shockwave through the chamber that rattles the very columns.
Zeus (thundering): "Fail me again… and it will be YOU who feels the WRATH of ZEUS!"
Ares and Mars slam their fists to the marble, voices united in desperation and fury.
Ares & Mars: "We will not fail, Almighty Zeus!"
The camera lingers on Heracles, his jaw tightening as he watches the spectacle. The faintest trace of doubt flickers in his eyes — is he silently questioning his father’s wrath, or preparing for the storm to come?
The vignette fades out with Zeus’ laughter echoing like thunder across Olympus.
[The vignette fades out from Zeus’ thunderous decree, the screen returning to the arena as the crowd buzzes in shock.]
Hammer Washington (calm but wide-eyed, his voice booming over the noise): “Good gracious! Did you hear that, folks? Zeus himself just called down the thunder on his own men! Ares and Mars, the Gods of War — being dressed down like schoolboys on Olympus! And now at Shadowfall, they’ve been commanded to destroy the Merry Band or face the wrath of Zeus himself!”
Brick Brody (leaning in with a gravelly chuckle): “Yeah, Hammer, that’s what I like to see! Old school accountability! Back in my day, if you got beat by a couple of punks, your manager didn’t pat you on the back — he smacked you upside the head and told you to get meaner. That’s exactly what Zeus did. He told ‘em straight: win… or get fried to a crisp!”
Hammer (measured, a hint of concern): “But Brick, you gotta wonder — if Ares and Mars are this desperate, what kind of carnage are they going to unleash on the Merry Band? I mean, Friar Tuck, Little John, Robin Hood — these are beloved fan favorites! Do you think they can survive the fury of the Gods?”
Brick (snorting, dismissive): “Survive? Hammer, they’re walking into their own funeral! Ares and Mars don’t just fight, they destroy. They’re gonna turn those merry little men into a cautionary tale, and I’ll be sittin’ here smiling when it happens. Shadowfall’s gonna be the day Olympus reminds everyone who’s in charge.”
Hammer (firm, rallying the fans): “Well folks, whether you believe in the might of the Gods of War, or in the courage of the Merry Band, one thing’s for sure — Shadowfall is shaping up to be an event unlike any other!”
[Crowd pops, camera cuts back to the ring for the next segment.]
[Bell rings, Honest Abe signals for the match to begin.]
Hammer Washington (calm, professional tone): “Well fans, we’re underway here, the Polar Bears squaring off against the unlikely pairing of the Tin Man and the Scarecrow. Scarecrow stepping in first and—look at this! Right away with a big back body drop on Polar Bear One!”
Brick Brody (chuckling, gravelly voice): “Ha! That’s cute, Hammer. Pickin’ up a bear and throwin’ him like a sack of oats. But you know what? That’s not how you beat a Polar Bear. I been in bar fights up north, and you don’t body slam your way outta those — you bite, you claw, you break a bottle over someone’s skull.”
Hammer: “Scarecrow following up with a lariat, but here comes Polar Bear Two, fresh tag in—Northern Lights Drop, and he plants the Scarecrow! My word, that’s power.”
Brick: “Now that’s more like it! An atomic drop that’ll make you rethink your life choices. These Polar Bears fight like they’re straight outta the Yukon, Hammer. None of this fancy dance stuff, just big paws and bad attitudes. That’s wrestling the way it’s supposed to be.”
Hammer: “And now both Polar Bears working in tandem, double-team maneuvers all over the Scarecrow! Backbreaker followed by that massive Blizzard Slam! Scarecrow in a world of trouble.”
Brick (cackling): “Ha! Finally, some teamwork that means somethin’! You call it double-teaming, I call it smart. Back in the day, we didn’t care if it was legal — the ref didn’t either! You win by any means necessary. Honest Abe looks like he’s about to cry but he ain’t stoppin’ it!”
Hammer: “Scarecrow showing fight, though, connects with another lariat, manages to tag in Tin Man, and now they’re double-teaming! A brainbuster by Scarecrow, legsweep from Tin Man — Polar Bear One rocked!”
Brick (mocking tone): “Oh yeah, great, two stick figures doin’ science experiments on a bear. What’s next, you gonna oil him up and dance around? Gimme a break. Tin Man hits like a refrigerator fallin’ down stairs, I’ll give him that — but against these brutes? He’s scrap metal, Hammer!”
Hammer: “Tin Man indeed showing toughness, strapping on that Steely Resolve Lock — body scissors clamped around Polar Bear One! But he’s not submitting! The Bears too tough for that!”
Brick: “You don’t make a Polar Bear quit, Hammer. That hold’s just squeezin’ metal against fur. These guys fight hunters in the wild! What’s a Tin Man gonna do, rust on him? Ha!”
Hammer: “And oh my, Tin Man is hurt! He took a backbreaker earlier and he’s been favoring the ribs—Polar Bear Two slams him down with the Blizzard Slam, hooks the leg—NO! Tin Man kicks out somehow!”
Brick (gritting teeth): “That’s the problem right there, Hammer. Too much heart. Heart don’t win fights, fists do. He shoulda stayed down, saved himself a trip to the hospital. But nooo, these babyfaces always gotta play hero. Drives me nuts.”
Hammer: “This crowd is electric as both teams just keep slugging it out! Twenty-five minutes in, Polar Bear One with another backbreaker on Tin Man, but Tin Man answers with knee strikes! Neither side giving an inch.”
Brick (snarling): “This is what I like. Forget the flippy nonsense. Just two sides tryin’ to see who breaks first. No rules, no mercy, just violence. Feels like Saturday night at the VFW after too many pitchers.”
Hammer: “We’re heading down the stretch, Tin Man once again with that Steely Resolve Lock on Polar Bear Two! He’s got it cinched in tight — the Bear struggling! The ref checking, but no submission! There’s the bell!”
Brick: “What?! A draw? After thirty minutes of two teams beatin’ each other to mush, we get a bell and no winner? That’s the problem with today, Hammer. Back in my day, if the bell rang and nobody was done, we just kept fightin’ ‘til somebody couldn’t walk anymore. That’s how you settle scores. This? This is paperwork.”
Hammer (steady, rallying tone): “Regardless, what an incredible battle we’ve just witnessed! The Polar Bears, the Tin Man, the Scarecrow — they gave it everything, and while there’s no winner tonight, the fans certainly got one whale of a contest!”
Brick (snorting, bitter): “Yeah, a contest with no winner. Call me when someone bleeds, Hammer.”
[Camera cuts to ringside fans cheering wildly, Honest Abe raising both teams’ arms as the time-limit draw is announced.]
Hammer Washington: “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re back at Chill Factor, and it’s time for a singles clash that’s been buzzing all week! On one side, you’ve got Prince Charming—smooth, flashy, a master of aerial offense. And across the ring, the demigod himself—Heracles! This one is going to be a test of finesse versus raw power!”
Brick Brody: “Pfft. You call that finesse, Hammer? I call it prancin’ around like a Broadway extra. Let me tell you somethin’—back in my day, if a guy came at me with sequins and a twinkle in his eye, I’d smash his face into a jukebox before the bell even rang. Heracles is gonna eat this kid alive.”
Hammer: “And here we go! Prince Charming springs into action, going for that standing moonsault early—”
Brick: “Too early, Hammer! Rookie mistake. Look at Heracles, just swatting him out of the air like he’s knockin’ down a bar stool! And WHAM—forearm to the back! That’s how a real man fights.”
Hammer: “Prince Charming, though, he’s not rattled—Urbanizer neckbreaker! He’s firing back with offense!”
Brick: “I’ll give the kid credit, that one rattled the big man’s spine. But look at Heracles! Spinebuster of his own, planting him like a sack of potatoes. You can’t out-muscle a demigod, Hammer. That’s like arm-wrestling a bulldozer.”
Hammer: “Prince Charming to the top—death from above! What height! And—oh no! Zeus just shoved the referee out of the ring!”
Brick (laughing): “HAH! That’s beautiful! That’s strategy, Hammer! You don’t like it? Tough. You think I won bar fights ‘cause I played by the rules? Zeus knows the deal—you want your man to win, you do what it takes!”
Hammer: “Charming lands a senton, another high-risk leg drop—he’s stringing offense together! But Heracles won’t stay down—spinebuster again! That Lion’s Roar nearly broke the mat!”
Brick: “Charming’s bouncin’ around like a yo-yo, but every time he lands, Heracles smashes him flat. It’s like swatting a mosquito—annoying, but satisfying!”
Hammer: “Heracles driving him into the corner, turnbuckle smash! Look at the force on that! But Prince Charming, still with fight—corkscrew splash! Incredible balance!”
Brick: “Balance don’t win you bar fights, Hammer. You ever see a corkscrew splash in a biker brawl? Nope. But you see plenty of guys gettin’ clobbered with forearms like Heracles is throwin’.”
Hammer: “Another turnbuckle smash—Charming’s absorbing so much punishment! But still, still, he keeps firing back with moonsaults and cutters! What resilience!”
Brick: “Resilience? Nah, that’s stubborn stupidity. Kid doesn’t know when he’s beat. I seen a guy once in Amarillo take six piledrivers ‘cause he wouldn’t stay down. You know where he is now? Eat’n soup through a straw. That’s where Charming’s headed.”
Hammer: “Prince Charming with the rope bounce cutter! Heracles answers with the Mount Olympus Crash! Both men down! One…two…Heracles kicks out! What a battle!”
Brick: “I’ll admit, Hammer, the kid almost had him there. But you ain’t keepin’ a demigod down with some fancy rope trick. You gotta break bones. You gotta crush a man’s will. Heracles ain’t built to lose.”
Hammer: “Heracles winds up—another mighty club forearm! Down goes Prince Charming! He’s covering—one…two…three! That’s it! Heracles with the victory here at Chill Factor!”
Brick: “HAH! What’d I tell ya, Hammer? All the flips in the world don’t mean squat when you’ve got a forearm like a sledgehammer. That’s old-school violence, baby. Prince Charming can go sing his ballads somewhere else—tonight belongs to Heracles!”
Hammer (closing): “Ladies and gentlemen, Heracles stands tall with Zeus watching closely. But let’s not forget—Prince Charming brought the fight of his life. These fans are on their feet after an absolute war!”
Brick: “Yeah, yeah, clap for your fairy tale prince. But the truth is simple, Hammer—might makes right, and tonight, might was spelled H-E-R-A-C-L-E-S.”
MERRY OLDE TIME
[Scene opens on a raucous pub. Wooden beams, brick walls, stained-glass lamps, and the sound of fiddles and stomping boots fill the room. The crowd is rowdy but joyous. Friar Tuck and Little John sit at the center table, tankards of frothy ale in hand, with the Three Amigos—a trio of masked luchadores—at their side. Empty mugs, half-eaten pies, and scattered playing cards litter the table. The mood is celebratory.]
Friar Tuck (slamming his mug down, foam splashing): “Raise yer mugs, my friends! To the Three Amigos! Who toppled those so-called Mighty Gods—ONE, TWO, THREE!”
[The pub erupts in cheer. Tankards raised, boots stomp the floor. One of the Amigos flips onto the table, throwing his arms wide. On the pub’s televisions, the replay of Polar Power 022 flashes—the Amigos’ high-flying finish, Amigo 1 pinning Mars to the mat.]
Little John (grinning ear to ear): “Amigo Uno—that flyin’ body press of yours was magnifico! I thought the roof was gonna come off!”
[Amigo 1 bows dramatically, soaking in the adoration. The other Amigos slap the table in rhythm as the crowd chants “AM-I-GOS! AM-I-GOS!”]
Suddenly—CRACK!
A deafening thunderclap shakes the pub. The music stops. Mugs rattle. A cold wind howls through the cracks in the door.
BOOM!
The front doors explode inward, wood splintering off the hinges. Standing in the doorway, framed by flashes of lightning, are Mars, Ares, and Heracles—the Mighty Gods. Their faces twisted with fury. The pub falls into stunned silence for half a heartbeat.
Then—CHAOS.
Mars barrels through the crowd like a warhorse, seizing a chair and smashing it over Little John’s head. The big man topples, clutching the splinters.
Ares leaps onto the table, grabs Friar Tuck by the cowl, and powerbombs him through the table, shattering it in an explosion of wood and spilled ale.
Heracles roars like a beast unleashed. He grabs both Amigo 2 and Amigo 3—one in each hand—and hurls them through the front windows. Glass shatters out into the stormy night, bodies crashing onto the cobblestones outside.
Amigo 1 tries to mount some resistance, throwing a flurry of chops at Heracles. Heracles barely budges before snatching him off the floor and tossing him head-over-heels through the jukebox. Sparks fly as the machine dies.
[The pub descends into a nightmare: patrons scrambling, women screaming, stools flying. Ale spills across the floor, mixing with blood. Mars bellows as he hurls darts across the room like knives. Ares smashes mugs with his bare hands, showering glass shards. Heracles pounds his chest, eyes blazing with primal fury.]
[Finally, the sound of POLICE WHISTLES pierces the chaos. Officers rush in wielding batons, trying to force the Mighty Gods back. The Gods snarl but eventually retreat into the storm, leaving wreckage in their wake.]
[Camera pans across the wreckage: Friar Tuck lying in the wreckage of the table, Little John groaning on the floor, the Amigos sprawled unconscious in the glass-strewn doorway. The pub is ruined, the air thick with smoke, spilled ale, and terror.]
[Cut back to commentary desk.]
Hammer Washington (somber, steady): “Ladies and gentlemen… what we just witnessed wasn’t a fight—it was an ambush. That was a pub full of good folks celebrating a hard-earned victory, and the Mighty Gods stormed in like marauders. Friar Tuck, Little John, the Amigos—they’ve all been left in ruins. I’ve seen barroom brawls in my time, but never anything like that.”
Brick Brody (leaning in, gravel in his voice, half-smirk): “Heh, Hammer, you call it an ambush, I call it a lesson. You don’t mock gods in their own kingdom and expect to walk away with your teeth. That wasn’t a ‘pub fight’—that was the wrath of Olympus raining down in beer and broken glass. And let me tell you, I’ve been in bars from Amarillo to Tokyo, and I never saw a chair get smashed that sweet over somebody’s head! Mars made that thing look like kindling!”
Hammer (shaking his head): “Brick, you can glorify it all you want, but there’s no excuse for what we just saw. Innocent people were hurt, that pub was destroyed, and the Amigos—those young men could be seriously injured!”
Brick (snarling, almost laughing): “Spare me the tears, Hammer. This ain’t ballet class—this is wrestling! The Amigos wanted to fly around and play superheroes? Well, tonight the Mighty Gods brought them crashing back down to reality. Ares, Mars, Heracles—they don’t care about your nachos, your beer, your good time. They care about domination. And you know what? I love it. I love it! That’s what this sport’s been missing—fear! Chaos! The kind of fight that makes you wonder if you’re making it home alive. That’s the good stuff.”
Hammer (serious, leaning forward): “Folks, I don’t condone it, I don’t respect it, but I fear this is only the beginning. If the Mighty Gods are willing to tear apart a pub to make their point, what will they do when they set their sights on the ring? On their next victims?”
Brick (grinning like a wolf): “Whatever they want, Hammer. Whatever they want.”
[Fade out on the wreckage, replaying Heracles throwing the Amigos through the window as the screen goes black.]
[The lights dim, eerie pipe organ tones rumble through the arena. Smoke rolls across the entrance as Negropolis steps out, draped in a long black trench coat, skull mask glaring under the spotlight. The crowd gives a mixed reaction—half cheers, half uneasy silence. Ace MacDougal struts beside him in a flashy jacket, pointing to the ring. Negropolis takes the microphone as he climbs through the ropes.]
Negropolis (low, gravelly voice): “Polly Mason… you and your beasts think you can hide behind kidnappings and trickery. You put your hands on Flippers… you made this war personal. Tonight, Beast One… you are the first. One by one, I will break your monsters… until only shadows remain. And at Shadowfall, when these tag titles are on the line… your nightmare will become reality.”
[Negropolis throws off the coat, revealing dark ring gear beneath. The bell rings.]
Hammer Washington (excited, smooth): “Fans, here we go—Negropolis, one half of the Tag Team Champions, taking on Beast One with that wild Polly Mason lurking at ringside. And Brick, let’s not forget—the Beasts kidnapped Flippers weeks ago!”
Brick Brody (gruff, sarcastic): “Oh, boo-hoo, Hammer. You make it sound like a crime drama. Back in my day, if you couldn’t protect your buddies, they got jumped in the locker room, stuffed in a trunk, whatever it took. That’s wrestling, pal! The Beasts are just bringing back the good ol’ days.”
Hammer: “Negropolis starts things off with that THRUST KICK—right on the button!”
Brick: “Yeah, but Beast One’s no slouch—he’s flying through the air with a moonsault! That’s how you answer a boot to the jaw, Hammer!”
Hammer: “Beast One going for the back suplex—no! Neutralized by Negropolis, he turned it inside out!”
Brick: “Heh, that’s why they call him the Skull of Doom, Hammer. He’s colder than ice in there.”
Hammer: “Ace MacDougal trying to point out a weakness—oh but Beast One shuts that down!”
Brick: “See, that’s the problem with managers today, Hammer. Too obvious. Back in my day, you distracted the ref with a beer or a fistful of dollars. This kid’s trying too hard.”
Hammer: “Negropolis—DOOM BOMB! He plants Beast One right in the canvas!”
Brick: “But look at Polly Mason! Blowing that freaky hypnotic tune of hers—ugh, Hammer, this whole circus act gives me the creeps.”
Hammer: “Another thrust kick by Negropolis! The champion is rolling!”
Brick: “Or he was rolling, until Polly starts singing like some Broadway dropout. Distracting, yeah, but you know what? I love it. That’s old-school manager tactics!”
Hammer: “Beast One tries to throw him out of the ring—no! Reversed! ARM WHIP OF DOOM! … But Beast One rallies with a belly-to-belly… only for Negropolis to reverse again—DOOM BOMB! Good lord, he nearly drove him through the mat!”
Brick: “That’s what I’m talking about, Hammer! That’s a power move you feel in your spine even from the cheap seats.”
Hammer: “Vertical suplex by Beast One… he’s stringing some offense together! Another suplex—Negropolis fights back—DOOM BOMB! He’s going for the cover!”
Ref: “1… 2…”
Hammer: “No! Beast One kicks out just in time!”
Brick: “Ha! Rookie mistake. You don’t waste time covering a monster after one bomb—you stomp his head in ‘til he stops breathing.”
Hammer: “Polly Mason clawing at the referee’s face! That’s outrageous!”
Brick: “That’s fantastic, Hammer. Honest Abe should’ve seen that coming. You don’t stand near Polly Mason unless you want your eyes raked out.”
Hammer: “Negropolis throws Beast One to the outside—he barely makes it back in at nine! Then Ace MacDougal calls the strategy, Negropolis with a hurricanrana—what agility for a man that size!”
Brick: “Eh, too much pretty-boy stuff for me, Hammer. I like the Doom Bombs. Stick to what hurts.”
Hammer: “Beast One with another suplex—but Negropolis won’t stay down! Snap suplex from the champion! … He’s going for it again—DOOM BOMB! This could be it!”
Ref: “1… 2… 3!”
Hammer: “He’s done it! Negropolis scores the victory with the Doom Bomb!”
Brick: “Well, chalk one up for the spooky skull man. But don’t get too comfortable, Hammer—I smell trouble.”
[As Negropolis has his arm raised, the crowd erupts in boos as Beast 2 and Marcus the Beast Master storm the ring. They tear into Negropolis and Ace MacDougal—stomps, clubbing shots, pure chaos.]
Hammer (outraged): “Here come the Beasts! Beast Two, Marcus—they’re dismantling Negropolis! Somebody stop this!”
Brick (loving it): “Ha! I told ya, Hammer! Never trust the shadows—they get darker. Where’s his partner, huh? Where’s Madman Mason now? Oh wait—he’s not in the building! Negropolis is alone, and he’s getting fed to the wolves!”
[The crowd boos as Negropolis is beaten down, left sprawled in the ring. Ace MacDougal is tossed out like garbage. The Beasts stand tall with Polly Mason raising their arms, their twisted choir echoing through the arena.]
Hammer (somber): “This was supposed to be a wrestling match—but it’s turned into a mugging. Fans, Shadowfall is just around the corner, and if this is any indication, Negropolis and Madman Mason’s Tag Titles are in serious jeopardy.”
Brick (grinning, leaning back): “And I can’t wait, Hammer. I want to see these Beasts take the gold and send this skull-faced creep back to his haunted house. That’s wrestling. That’s chaos.”
[Fade out on Negropolis clutching his ribs in the ring as Polly Mason’s laughter echoes.]
Hammer Washington: "Ladies and gentlemen, we’re back here on Chill Factor and it’s time for our next contest! Non-title action as the Northern Lights Champion, Abaddon of the Demonic Legion, steps into the ring with the sailor of legend himself—Sinbad! And of course, slithering at ringside is Lilith, as dangerous as they come."
Brick Brody: "Slithering? Ha! She’s the only one in this dump with any class, Hammer. Look at Sinbad in there. That guy thinks he’s some swashbuckling hero out of a fairytale. Lemme tell ya somethin’—guys like that don’t last in real fights. They last about ten seconds in a bar brawl, right before someone smashes a bottle across their skull."
Hammer: "There’s the bell—AND GOOD LORD, Abaddon just scooped him up, HELL’S FURY! Three powerbombs in succession and Sinbad’s writhing in pain already!"
Brick: "Ha ha! That’s what happens when you step in with a real monster, Hammer. Abaddon didn’t waste time with any headlocks or wristlocks. Boom! Powerbombs ‘til your spine’s dust. That’s how we did it in the eighties."
Hammer: "Lilith on the outside—oh come on now! She just clawed at Sinbad’s face while the referee’s back was turned!"
Brick: "Smart! That’s why Abaddon keeps her around, Hammer. You think the Legion plays by rules? Nah—they play for keeps. And look, Sinbad’s tryin’ to swing back with that lariat, but he’s fightin’ uphill!"
Hammer: "Sinbad showing some fight! Hammerlock DDT takes Abaddon down hard!"
Brick: "Big whoop. You think one DDT’s gonna keep a demon down? In my day, you had to drop a guy on his head fifteen times before he even blinked."
Hammer: "Back and forth now—Abaddon with the Hellfire Plex, Sinbad counters with an inverted tornado DDT! This is turning into a slugfest!"
Brick: "Slugfest? This is child’s play, Hammer. Back in Amarillo, we used to bleed just gettin’ to the ring. These guys are just warmin’ up."
Hammer: "Oh! Abaddon hoists him up—ABADDON’S FURY! Spinning him like a ragdoll!"
Brick: "Ha! That’s it. Take the wind outta Sinbad’s sails. He’s about as useful as a broken compass right now."
Hammer: "Sinbad fighting back! Double knees! Short-arm lariat! He’s piecing together some offense now against the champion!"
Brick: "Yeah, for all the good it’ll do. He’s hittin’ Abaddon like a kid swingin’ a broomstick at a brick wall. Might knock the dust off, but the wall ain’t movin’."
Hammer: "Fiendish strike to the throat! Ref, that’s a choke, c’mon!"
Brick: "Quit cryin’, Hammer. If you ain’t cheatin’, you ain’t tryin’. That’s the Legion’s motto, and it’s a good one."
Hammer: "But Sinbad rallies back with another DDT! The sailor refusing to stay down!"
Brick: "He’s stubborn, I’ll give him that. But stubborn don’t win fights—it gets you hurt."
Hammer: "Backbreaker by Abaddon, Sinbad counters—wait no! Abaddon catches him again, scoops him up—HELL’S FURY! Another triple powerbomb! Cover!"
Crowd: ONE! TWO! THREE!
Hammer: "That’s it! Abaddon puts away Sinbad in commanding fashion, non-title though it may be. What a destructive victory!"
Brick: "Commanding? That was a message, Hammer. Abaddon just reminded every so-called hero in this company—when you step to the Demonic Legion, you don’t walk away. You crawl. You bleed. You lose. And Sinbad? He’s just the latest shipwreck in Abaddon’s wake."
A MESSAGE FOR THIEVES
The bell has barely finished ringing. Abaddon, sweat glistening under the lights, stands tall over the battered Sinbad. Lilith slithers into the ring, her black robes trailing, eyes burning with cruel delight. The crowd rains down boos, but the pair feed on it like fuel.
Hammer Washington: [somberly] “Ladies and gentlemen, Abaddon has done it again… but the nightmare’s not over yet. Look at this, Brick—he’s not leaving the ring.”
Brick Brody: [grinning through his gruff tone] “That’s because real men don’t just beat ya, Hammer—they make sure you remember it. And believe me, Sinbad’s gonna remember every second of what’s about to happen.”
Abaddon kneels down, one massive hand gripping Sinbad by the hair, yanking his beaten head toward the camera. Sinbad grimaces, barely conscious, but the image is undeniable—Abaddon towering like a demon over his prey.
Abaddon: snarling “This… is what happens to a thief who thinks he can steal from me. Who thinks he can take what is MINE! You don’t just lose… you get crushed into defeat.”
Lilith crouches beside them, stroking Abaddon’s arm like a serpent curling around its master. She smirks wickedly at the camera.
Lilith: “And let this be a warning to every would-be hero who dreams of outshining the shadows. The darker the night grows, the stronger we become… and Abaddon’s reign has only just begun.”
Abaddon sneers and presses his forehead close to the lens, his voice like thunder rumbling through the arena.
Abaddon: “Prince of Thieves… that goes for YOU as well. At Shadowfall, my shadow will fall across you, and just like Sinbad here… you’ll be flat on your back, staring up at the void, as I pin you. One… two… three.”
He shoves Sinbad back down, the lifeless body flopping to the mat. Abaddon rises, raising his fists while Lilith throws her head back and laughs, the two basking in the chorus of jeers as they exit the ring.
Hammer Washington: [shaking his head] “Good grief… what kind of human being does this? Abaddon isn’t content with a victory—he’s gotta humiliate the man after the bell! That’s not strength, Brick—that’s insecurity, that’s cruelty!”
Brick Brody: [chuckling, gravelly] “Oh quit cryin’, Hammer! You call it cruelty, I call it a statement. That’s how you keep a locker room in line. You don’t just beat a guy, you break his spirit! That’s how it was done in the smoky armories, in the dive bars, in the REAL wrestling rings I grew up in. Abaddon ain’t insecure—he’s a champion who’s making sure the Prince of Thieves knows he’s walking into a funeral at Shadowfall!”
Hammer Washington: “I call it a disgrace. Folks, I can’t even imagine what the Prince of Thieves must be thinking right now, watching that display… but one thing’s for sure—at Shadowfall, he’s going to give Abaddon the fight of his life.”
Brick Brody: [snapping back] “Fight of his life? Hammer, he just watched his buddy get planted like a ragdoll. If the Prince of Thieves has any brains, he’ll skip Shadowfall and go back to stealing wallets instead of stepping in the ring with the Northern Lights Champion. Otherwise, he’s just lining up for the slaughter!”
The scene fades with the camera holding on Sinbad, still laid out in the ring, a chilling reminder of Abaddon’s power.
HAMMER WASHINGTON: “Fans, it’s time for the MAIN EVENT of the evening! Non-title action here on Chill Factor as the Universal Champion, Sinister Klaus, goes one-on-one with Donner of the Reindeer Coalition! Donner’s a powerhouse in his own right, and what a statement it would be if he could knock off the champion here tonight!”
BRICK BRODY: “Statement? Hammer, the only statement Donner’s gonna make is flat on his back lookin’ up at the lights! You don’t just walk into the ring with Sinister Klaus. The guy’s a monster in boots, and Donner’s about to find out what it feels like when Christmas comes early… and it ain’t toys under the tree, it’s broken ribs!”
HAMMER: “Donner charges right out of the gate—going for the Reindeer Gorge!”
BRICK: “Whoa, slow down Rudolph, you’re not gonna ram Santa’s dark side like that!”
HAMMER: “Klaus snuffs it out, twisting Donner down hard to the canvas—already asserting himself here!”
HAMMER: “Both men trading offense now—Donner with a mule kick!”
BRICK: “That’s what I like to see! A little hoof to the gut, that’s old-school right there.”
HAMMER: “But Klaus firing back with those Stocking Stuffer strikes! Just hammering Donner with those heavy hands!”
BRICK: “Hammer, I told you! Donner’s playing checkers, Klaus is playing full-contact chess!”
HAMMER: “Twist of Tinsel takedown—Donner’s down hard again! Sinister Klaus keeping control!”
BRICK: “That’s how you do it. Wristlock, trip—ain’t flashy, but it grinds a man down.”
HAMMER: “Wait a minute—Klaus going for the Naughty List leg drop—NO! Donner rolled out of the way! Big headbutt from Donner, a full-on Reindeer Gorge connects!”
BRICK: “That’ll rattle your brainpan, Hammer. Even Klaus had to eat that one!”
HAMMER: “Sinister Klaus, though, back on top with those brutal punches! And now the Yule Elbow drops Donner back down!”
BRICK: “See? That’s what separates the champ. He takes a shot, shakes it off, and keeps dishing out punishment. Donner’s throwing snowballs, Klaus is throwing cinder blocks!”
HAMMER: “Donner’s fighting back—big stomps! A Reindeer Clomp right across the chest of the Universal Champion!”
BRICK: “I’ll give him credit, Donner’s got some fight in him. But it’s like hittin’ a brick wall with an antler—eventually the wall wins.”
HAMMER: “Reindeer One-Two! Donner’s connecting with heavy shots!”
BRICK: “Not bad, kid! Not bad at all.”
HAMMER: “Klaus shoots him through the ropes with a Gift Wrap Toss—Donner hits the floor hard!”
BRICK: “That’s the difference right there—Klaus knows how to make gravity his tag partner.”
HAMMER: “The ref’s count is climbing—but Donner makes it back in at six!”
BRICK: “Should’ve stayed outside, Hammer. Klaus was ready to rearrange his stocking again.”
HAMMER: “Atomic Drop! Sleigh Ride Lariat! Sinister Klaus is unloading everything on Donner now!”
BRICK: “That’s a clothesline like a runaway freight train—Donner’s antlers just got snapped clean off!”
HAMMER: “Naughty List leg drop! And another one—this time it lands clean!”
BRICK: “Hammer, you could count to a hundred!”
HAMMER: “One… two… three! And that’s it! Sinister Klaus defeats Donner in this non-title main event!”
HAMMER: “What a war between Donner and the Universal Champion—but in the end, the power and ruthless precision of Sinister Klaus prevails. Donner gave it everything, but tonight, it just wasn’t enough!”
BRICK: “Look, Hammer, Donner’s tough, I’ll give him that. He hung in there longer than I thought. But Klaus? The guy’s a blizzard in human form. He doesn’t care who you are—Reindeer, Polar Bear, Van Helsing himself—you step in there with Sinister Klaus, you get melted down to nothing. That’s why he’s the champ, and that’s why he’s gonna stay the champ.”
[Scene: The bell has rung. Sinister Klaus stands tall over Donner, brushing his gloved hands together as if swatting away dirt. The crowd is booing heavily. He snatches the mic from the announcer and sneers into it.]
Sinister Klaus: "Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. This… reindeer thought he could step into my ring? Donner, you just learned the same lesson every so-called hero in this frozen wasteland will learn. When you cross paths with Sinister Klaus… you end up crushed beneath the Naughty List. Ho, ho… ho!"
[He stomps Donner once in the chest, then kneels down, dragging him up by the antler headgear.]
Sinister Klaus: "Tell Rudolph, tell every last one of your furry little friends, that their time is up. You think this Coalition of reindeer is going to save NPCW? No. At Shadowfall, Rudolph, you’re going to join Donner here on the ground, staring up at me. And when I’m standing over you… Universal Title still shining on my waist… the whole North Pole will finally admit that Sinister Klaus is the only name that matters."
[He drops Donner with a shove, raises the Universal Championship high, smirking.]
Sinister Klaus: "The holiday spirit is dead. And I’m the one who killed it."
[Klaus laughs his cold, booming laugh as the crowd rains boos. He exits, belt on his shoulder, dragging his finger across his throat toward the camera before disappearing up the ramp.]
Hammer Washington: "Oh, come on now! Was that necessary, Brick? After a hard-fought main event, Sinister Klaus not only beats Donner, but he’s gotta humiliate him too? That man has no respect for anything or anyone in this business!"
Brick Brody (gravelly laugh): "Respect? Hammer, you sound like one of these soft fans who want fairy tales and happy endings. What Klaus just did, that’s called making a statement. He crushed Donner, and then he sent Rudolph a message written in bruises. That’s old-school, that’s mean, and that’s why he’s the champ."
Hammer: "Mean doesn’t make you great, Brick! That’s cowardice, that’s abuse of power! Donner gave him a fight, and now—look at this—Klaus is walking out smirking like he just saved Christmas. What a disgrace."
Brick: "Disgrace? No, Hammer. This is dominance. This is Klaus showing the world that when you’re on the Naughty List, you don’t get toys, you don’t get candy canes—you get crushed under his boot. And Shadowfall? Mark my words—Rudolph’s red nose is gonna be flat on the mat when Klaus is done with him."
Hammer Washington: “Ladies and gentlemen, what a night it’s been here on Chill Factor! But before we go, we’ve got a special message from the North Pole Champion, Rudolph—”
A BRUTAL INTERRUPTION
[Suddenly the feed distorts. Static fuzzes across the screen. The sound warps. Then it cuts back to a dimly lit basement studio — THE BUNKER. Old NPCW posters and stacks of VHS tapes line the cinderblock walls. At a makeshift announce desk sits DAVE ‘THE BRUTE’ KENT in his trademark black wrestling mask and black sports jacket. He’s grinning smugly. Beside him sits JR HOLLAND, looking polished and professional despite the setting. A single overhead light makes the scene feel underground, even pirate.]
Dave Kent (smirking): “Hmm… oh wait—there we go. Looks like we hacked the feed again! Johnny’s boys have been trying, bless their hearts, but mine? Mine are the best in the business! They can’t keep The Brutal Truth off your screens!”
[JR Holland frowns at him, clearly aware of how much trouble this stunt could cause.]
Dave (leaning forward, animated): “HEY, NPCW BRUTALISTS! Did you miss me? It’s been a while, hasn’t it? That’s ‘cause the NPCW tech wizards have been burning the midnight oil trying to keep me off the air. But guess what? The truth can’t be buried! And tonight—lucky you—I’m joined by the #1 Brutalist herself, the queen of hard calls, JR Holland!”
JR Holland (diplomatic smile): “Thanks, Dave… for having me here in your… uh… (garbled audio) basement.”
Dave (beaming with pride, spreading his arms): “I know, I know—it’s not the After Dark set, but hey, the truth comes from the most unlikely places. So let’s get down to it, JR. Shadowfall is just one week away. And this… this is how NPCW hypes their biggest show of the summer?”
JR Holland (calm, measured): “Well, Dave, we did see The Gods of War flex their might tonight at the pub against the Merry Band. That was impressive, but here’s the problem: you’ve got Heracles beating Prince Charming, and neither man is booked for Shadowfall. It feels like wasted momentum.”
Dave (snorting, cutting in): “Wasted? That’s being polite. That’s like putting filet mignon on the plate and then dumping it in the trash! And don’t even get me started on the real grievance tonight—the Abaddon versus Sinbad debacle. Both men are supposed to have big matches at Shadowfall, but instead we get Abaddon crushing Sinbad flat as a pancake. Great for Abaddon, sure. But it kills Sinbad stone dead!”
JR Holland (nodding, analytical): “You’re right, Dave. Sinbad is heading into a high-stakes Wheel of Misfortunes match against Sandman for a Golden Ticket. This match, though, completely deflated any hype for it. Sinbad’s character feels like he’s being tossed in at random, without direction. If I were fixing the booking, I’d say either end it in a no-contest, or better yet, have Sandman interfere and cost Sinbad the match. Either way, you’d build anticipation for their match, instead of what we saw tonight.”
Dave (jabbing a finger at the camera, sharp and harsh): “JR, you’re being too kind. That’s why people like you have class. Me? If I was fixing the match… I wouldn’t have booked it at all! Period! You’re trying to sell pay-per-view, and instead you’re flushing it right down the chimney. You think fans are gonna buy Sinbad as a threat to Sandman now? Forget about it!”
[The screen flickers and distorts again. Dave slams the desk as the feed crackles.]
Dave (shouting, off-mic as the image collapses): “Dammit! They’re blocking it! Don’t you cut me off again, Michaels!”
[The bunker fades to static and cuts back to the NPCW announce desk. Hammer Washington looks shaken but professional. Brick Brody is fuming.]
Brick Brody (red-faced, snarling): “KENT! If I ever get my hands on you, I’m gonna wring that scrawny masked neck of yours and kick your butt all the way back into that rat-hole basement you crawled out of!”
Hammer Washington (cutting in, trying to restore order): “Sorry, fans, for that… unfortunate interruption. The Brutal Truth finds its way on the air whether we want it or not. But we are back, and right now, let’s take you to that special message from the North Pole Champion, Rudolph!”
[Screen fades out to Rudolph’s promo package.]
GUIDING LIGHT
[Scene opens in a roaring blizzard.]
Snow and wind whip across a frozen tundra. The camera pushes in through the storm to reveal Rudolph, standing tall with the North Pole Championship gleaming proudly around his waist. His chest rises and falls with determination, his bright red nose cutting through the storm like a beacon. His stance is strong, hands on hips, a silhouette of defiance against the raging cold.
Voice Over #1 (calm, almost mythic, like a Christmas story being told):
"One foggy night... when hope seemed lost... the world needed a light to lead the way."
[Scene cuts.]
We see Rudolph at the head of Santa’s sleigh, his glowing nose shining brilliantly as he leads the eight reindeer through dark skies. The storm clears as his glow pierces the night. Children below cheer as presents rain down into chimneys.
Voice Over #2 (growing bolder):
"When Santa needed help against the deadly Nutcracker Legion..."
[Footage rolls.]
Santa and Rudolph stand shoulder to shoulder inside the NPCW ring, back-to-back, fending off the marching Nutcracker Legion. Both men hoist the Tag Team Titles high, defiant warriors against an army.
Voice Over #3 (resolute, serious):
"When Commissioner Bernard needed a champion..."
[Scene.]
Rudolph and Yeti square off in the center of the ring. A test of will. A clash of titans. The lights flicker with the roar of the crowd, Rudolph digging deep as they collide in brutal combat.
Voice Over #4 (emotional, swelling with pride):
"When Santa could fight no more..."
[Footage.]
Rudolph climbs the ropes, dives, and pins Frankenstein’s Monster at Madness in March. The crowd erupts. Tears in children’s eyes. Santa, battered but smiling, applauds from ringside. Rudolph rises, the North Pole Championship in his hands for the very first time.
Voice Over #5 (epic, triumphant):
"When the NPCW faced a meltdown..."
[Footage.]
The cage door swings open at Polar Meltdown. Frankenstein’s Monster lies broken in the ring. Rudolph staggers out, battered, bruised, but holding his championship high. His nose blazes against the smoke and steel of destruction.
Voice Over #6 (strong, defiant, heroic):
"And now... as the shadows fall upon NPCW... he will defend us."
[Scene.]
Rudolph stands center frame. The shadowy silhouette of Sinister Klaus rises behind him, arms spread, a looming figure of dread. But Rudolph does not flinch. His red nose glows brighter, brighter still, until it forces Klaus’s shadow back into the darkness.
[Cut to close-up.]
Rudolph, eyes fierce, championship glinting across his chest.
RUDOLPH (firm, unwavering): "I am the Guiding Light of NPCW... and my brightness will burn away the shadows. At Shadowfall, Sinister Klaus will learn... the light always prevails."
[Final Shot.]
The NPCW logo pulses against the backdrop of Rudolph’s glowing nose, which shines like a beacon through the darkness as triumphant orchestral music swells.
[The vignette ends — the last shot of Rudolph standing tall with his glowing nose fades to black. The crowd in the arena is cheering loudly.]
Hammer Washington (voice swelling with pride): “Ladies and gentlemen, that is your North Pole Champion! That is Rudolph — the Guiding Light of NPCW! Every battle, every storm, every monster he’s faced, he has risen above them all! And Brick, in just seven days, that man walks into the fight of his life — Champion versus Champion, Title versus Title — against the most sinister force we’ve ever seen, Sinister Klaus!”
Brick Brody (gravelly, fired up): “I’ll tell you what, Hammer — if that don’t give you goosebumps, you’re watchin’ the wrong sport! Look at that fire in Rudolph’s eyes! He’s not just fightin’ for a belt, he’s fightin’ for the people, for every single fan out there that believes the light can chase away the darkness. But don’t forget — Klaus is no joke. He’s colder than ice, darker than midnight, and he’s comin’ to end Christmas once and for all!”
Hammer (with urgency): “It’s the clash of titans — the heart and soul of NPCW versus the shadow that threatens to consume it! The question is: will the light shine through, or will the darkness fall?”
Brick (pointing at the camera, intense): “You don’t want to miss it! Shadowfall! Seven days away! Two outta three falls, Klaus versus Rudolph, Title versus Title! This is bigger than history, Hammer — this is destiny!”
Hammer (closing with passion): “We’ll see you next Sunday at Shadowfall, live from the North Pole Arena! Until then, for Brick Brody, I’m Hammer Washington saying goodnight — and may the light guide us all!”
[Crowd roars, NPCW logo flashes with the tagline: “7 Days Until Shadowfall” as the show fades to black.]
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