SALUTATIONS
So this is what it’s come to. After decades of service to this business—this art form—of calling it like it is, I’ve been muzzled by the clown prince of censorship himself, Johnny “Empty Smile” Michaels, the so-called head of Broadcast Talent at NPCW. Suspended. Silenced. Swept under the rug like yesterday’s broken promises. Why? Because I dared to tell the truth about the golden boy locker room politics, the backstage protection racket, and the sacred cows who couldn’t draw money if their life depended on it. NPCW doesn’t want truth. It wants theater. Controlled narratives. Carefully staged puppet shows. Well, this puppet cut its strings.
Let me be clear: this all started because I spoke out against the blatant favoritism shown to so-called superstars like Rudolph. Then, my supposed partner Hammer Washington dragged up the disgraceful HCW Truth Hurts segment where I was ambushed in a setup masquerading as journalism. I chose to be the bigger man—I walked away from the booth to avoid a physical altercation, not out of fear, but out of respect for the profession. If you’re looking for a fall guy, fine. Make me your villain. But don’t think for one second I’ll be groveling in some padded HR cubicle, licking boots and begging for forgiveness. Hammer didn’t intimidate me—he gaslit, manipulated, and threw his weight around. And now, I’m right where I belong.
They think suspending me ends the conversation. They think taking me off commentary removes me from the equation. Here's the thing, Johnny: you’ve just handed me the microphone I really wanted. This is the Brutal Truth, and it’s being broadcast straight from the bunker, unfiltered, uncensored, and completely out of your corporate reach. No more producers in my ear telling me to “lighten up” or “be more positive.” No more watered-down opinions. From this point forward, I speak only to the brutalists—the fans who don’t want fluff, who don’t buy merch because a focus group told them to, who know a workrate from a worked shoot and aren't afraid to boo the darlings. You know who you are. You’ve always had my back.
So let this be the first salvo. The Brutal Truth is out there now—and it’s not going back in the box. Every week, we’re peeling the skin off the business and showing you what bleeds underneath. If you're a fan of convenience, comfort, or corporate-cozy content, you're gonna hate it here. But if you crave honesty like a steel chair to the skull, welcome home. This one’s for the brutalists. They tried to silence me. They forgot who I am.
— Dave “The Brute” Kent
From the Bunker.
NPCW HOUSE SHOW RESULTS - Helena, Washington
Thanks to Brutalist Micky “One Eye” Rorke for the results!
DAVE’S TAKES
Blonde Bombshells Vs The Coven’s Morrigan and Wicked Witch - NPCW Helena House Show.
(★½ out of 5)
What a mess. This 20-minute slog at the Helena house show felt like watching four cosplayers try to reenact a match they saw on YouTube at 0.75 speed. The Blonde Bombshells—Dorothy and Alice—showed flashes of chemistry and hit some nice double-team spots, but they also leaned on repetition like it was a crutch. If I see one more Tilt-a-Whirl Small Package, I’m going to need a barf bag and a time machine. Morrigan tried to carry the drama with stiff offense, but she got buried in double-teams while her partner, the Wicked Witch, showed up like she was legally obligated to be there, then clocked out mid-match. The whole thing ends with a BACKHAND CHOP pin? Seriously? That’s a move you use to get a tag, not end a match. And of course, ‘Slow-Count’ Sam lived up to his name, killing pacing like a heatless ghost. This wasn’t a match—it was a confused, overlong stage show with no real stakes and no believable finish. Brutalists deserve better. ★½—because I’m generous.
Goldie Locks Vs Wicked Willow - NPCW Helena House Show Main Event.
(★★ out of 5)
This was your main event? This lukewarm, paint-by-numbers non-title sleepwalk? Goldie Locks, the so-called Queen of the North, looked more like the Duchess of Dull tonight. She hit her usual TILT-A-WHIRL HEADSCISSORS and Handspring Elbow spots like she was going through a checklist, while Wicked Willow repeated the same moonsault like she had nothing else in her bag. Coven's spooky nonsense added absolutely nothing—if you're gonna do theatrics, commit, don’t just flicker the lights like you forgot to pay the power bill. And how does it end? With a count-out? After 13 minutes of build, Goldie lazily tosses Willow out like yesterday’s trash and wins by walking away. That’s not dominance—that’s booking cowardice. If this was meant to showcase the champion, it failed. If it was meant to elevate Willow, it failed harder. Brutalists want impact, not soft finishes and copy-paste sequences. ★★ and that's me rounding up.
Zack Brown Vs The Wicked Prophet - HCW Live Wire (July 26, 2025).
Courtesy of Fantasy Wrestling Newsletter
(★★★★½ out of 5)
Now this is what pro wrestling looks like when it's stripped of fluff and full of fire. Match #5 on HCW Live Wire was a brutal ballet between two men who didn't come to play roles—they came to prove points. Zack Brown brought intensity you could feel from the cheap seats. His Paratrooper Plunge nearly decapitated the Wicked Prophet in the opening minute, but Prophet, to his twisted credit, absorbed it and came back with eerie precision. “Fire – Walk With Me”? That’s not just a move name—it felt like a warning to the rest of the roster. Every exchange told a story: power vs. prophecy, control vs. chaos.
They didn't waste a second. Brown’s Lawman Lariats hit like thunderclaps, while Prophet's Crucifix Clutch and Baphomet Bruiser reeked of dark genius. These weren't just sequences—they were chapters in a match that never stopped escalating. Then, right when it looked like they'd kill each other before either quit… enter Jack 'Timberfang' Lumber. The champ didn’t sneak in—he hunted. One shot for Zack. One for Prophet. Message sent, no postage needed.
What followed was classic HCW: raw, unpredictable, and boiling with tension. A triple threat at Reign of Champions? That’s not just the right call—it’s the only call. Jack’s making it clear: he’s not hiding behind the title, he’s daring two monsters to try and take it. And judging by the carnage, he’s ready to split skulls to keep it. Hats off to HCW for letting this one breathe. That was a main event-caliber war hidden mid-card, and I’ll be damned if I wasn’t on my feet. ★★★★½—match of the night, maybe the year.
THE FINAL WORD
By Dave “The Brute” Kent
Here’s the bottom line, brutalists: the landscape is shifting, and those who built their names on kayfabe handshakes and management handouts are scrambling. NPCW wants control. They want commentators who clap like seals and act like everything is fine while the foundation rots from the inside. But this newsletter exists because I won’t play that game. I’m not here to be liked—I’m here to be right. And whether it’s Johnny Michaels protecting his favorites, Hammer Washington rewriting history, or Goldie Locks winning on technicalities, I’m going to call it out every damn time. The Brutal Truth doesn’t live under the lights—it lives in the cracks, behind the curtain, in the stories no one else has the guts to tell.
And speaking of guts—HCW just showed everyone what happens when you let raw talent breathe. Zack Brown and The Wicked Prophet put on a classic on Live Wire, and Jack Lumber’s post-match declaration? That’s how a real champ owns a division. No gimmicks, no smoke, no distractions—just violence, pride, and purpose. NPCW, take notes. You can try to silence voices like mine, but out here in the Bunker, the signal’s only getting louder. I’m not just going to shine a light—I’m going to set fire to the lies. Until next time… stay sharp, stay loud, and above all—stay brutal.
You go Dave
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