GENERAL MANAGER MELISSA LILYWHITE:
“Before anyone back there dares lace up their boots… before a single bell rings…
THIS show begins with the only truth that matters.”
*smirks*
“BAINE… the so-called ‘prestigious saint’… is still the biggest sellout this industry has ever known.”
You see, BAINE doesn’t belong to the people.
He doesn’t belong to the locker room.
He doesn’t even belong to himself.
He belongs to ME.
I own his soul.
I own every drop of blood running through his body.
Every breath he takes, every match he wrestles, every prayer he pretends to believe in—
I CONTROL IT.
Baine is nothing more then a puppet to my strings, and his wings will never spread and fly again.
Whether he likes it…
or not.
And yet—
for someone who calls himself a saint…
he’s nothing more than a coward.
Because BAINE doesn’t have the guts—
the spine—
the faith
to walk into MY RING, in MY COMPANY, drop to his knees like the obedient little ‘prestigious’ icon he pretends to be…
…and bow to his LORD AND SAVIOR.
ME.
MELISSA.
LILYWHITE.
The TRUE ORACLE.
The WHITE LIGHT of professional wrestling.
Make no mistake—
NO ONE has more power than me.
Not champions.
Not legends.
Not false saints hiding behind reputations they didn’t earn. It was GIVEN to you by the powers that be… Mr. Mayhem…
*CROWD CHEERS*
*We Want Mayhem! We Want Mayhem! We Want Mayhem!*
So BOW TO ME, YOU FALLEN SAINT.
FALL.
AND PRAY.
*Pointing to the Titantron*
“Because while your good buddy Travis Markson is sitting at home… staring at the wall, on the free-agent line… waiting for a phone call that will never come—”
YOU, BAINE…
are NOTHING more than an angel who lost his wings.
And angels who fall?
They don’t rise.
They kneel, *in a sassy stern voice* So its time you embrace your true nature as my submissive dumb dog bitch… you will suffer a wrath unlike anyone’s ever seen.
Lilywhite lowers the mic slowly, staring into the hard cam as the crowd erupts in boos and ‘Shut the fuck up chants’ fill the arena.
Vincent vs Ian Luicious
BACKSTAGE SEGMENT
The camera cuts abruptly to the backstage area. Nicole Norton is storming down the hallway, already fired up after watching the opening moments of the show. As she turns a corner!
—she collides shoulder-to-shoulder with Riley Knox, the highly touted newcomer.
The two stop. Tension is immediate. The camera tightens in.
NICOLE NORTON:
“Watch where you’re goin’, rookie.”
RILEY KNOX:
“Maybe you should try not walking like you own the place.”
Norton laughs, stepping closer, nose-to-nose.
NICOLE NORTON:
“You don’t belong back here. This is the major leagues.
You might’ve been a big fish in some small pond wherever you came from…
but around here?”
Norton pokes Knox in the chest.
“You’re a minnow swimming with big, bad sharks… and you’re gonna get eaten up just like that.”
Knox’s jaw tightens. No words. No warning.
Riley Knox fires a right hand straight into Norton’s face.
The hallway EXPLODES into chaos.
COMMENTARY
“OH! KNOX JUST DROPPED HER!”
Norton swings back, the two women trading wild punches as they crash into equipment cases. Security and backstage agents sprint into frame, struggling to pull them apart.
AGENTS:
“BREAK IT UP! BREAK IT UP!”
(It takes multiple guards to separate them. Norton is screaming, trying to break free.)
NICOLE NORTON:
“You wanna make a name?! I’LL END YOU! LETS GO BITCH!
Knox is being held back on the other side, calm but furious, eyes locked on Norton.
RILEY KNOX:
“Anytime. Anywhere.”
Suddenly, the crowd noise spikes as GM MELISSA LILYWHITE steps into frame, slow clap, smiling.
MELISSA LILYWHITE:
“Oh… how delightful, I LOVE CHAOS”
She looks at Norton. Then at Knox.
“You want to prove this is the major leagues?
You want to see who gets eaten alive?”
Lilywhite raises her voice.
“TONIGHT.
Nicole Norton.
Riley Knox.”
The crowd roars.
“I’m sanctioning the match—right here, right now on MY show.
Security… keep them apart until the bell rings.”
Lilywhite smirks as Norton and Knox strain against security, staring daggers at each other while the camera fades out.
MATCH ANNOUNCED: NORTON vs. KNOX — TONIGHT
Sick boy vs beaux wilde
WHITNEY MALCHOW:
“Kurt, can I get a moment? What do you think about Bryan Walker finally signing with VCW?”
Kurt stops mid-curl, slowly turns his head, and smirks. He sets the dumbbells down with a loud THUD and steps closer, flexing hard.
KURT STORM:
“Shut up. Listen. And learn.”
He raises one arm, veins popping.
“You see these, Whitney?
These are the largest arms in the world.”
Storm chuckles, shaking his head.
“You really think I give a damn about Bryan Walker?
I’ve got more talent, more success, and more gold in one arm than that puke will ever taste when he’s busy regurgitating his so-called minor league success.”
He steps even closer to the camera.
“And before you even ask—
Kent Lassiter.”
Storm points directly into the lens.
“You want some?
Step up anytime, punk.”
Storm flexes both arms now, towering.
“Because when you step into the ring with the man with the largest arms on the planet…
you don’t just lose.”
He snarls.
“You get caught up in the STORM. OF. GREATNESS.”
Kurt grabs the dumbbells again, resuming curls like nothing happened.
“See you soon, chump.”
The camera lingers on his flexed biceps as the segment fades out.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Sinister speaks in a low, unsettling tone, barely looking at the camera.
“Me and Jose teaming up next week? Hmm… sounds like a good idea. I know your past. I know your present. But always remember this—something sinister is always lurking… in the shadows of doom.”
_____________________________________________________________________________
*Camera Cuts TO ANOTHER PART OF THE ARENA*
BACKSTAGE – HIGH TYMEZ
Nick Clarke and Gage Adams stand side by side, loose, confident, laughing as they talk over the match.
NICK CLARKE:
“Cashin’ checks and whippin’ ass, baby. That’s the lifestyle.”
GAGE ADAMS:
“Facts. And tonight? Hells Requiem—bunch of goofs playin’ dress-up like monsters and demons.”
NICK CLARKE:
“‘Ooo, ghouls and ghosts… ooo, boo hoo.’”
Both laugh.
GAGE ADAMS:
“Tonight we give ’em a High Tyme…”
NICK CLARKE:
“…and slam ’em down for a bad time.”
They bump fists.
GAGE ADAMS:
“Let’s roll, bro.”
NICK CLARKE:
“Time to slay us a couple goons.”
They walk off, confident and ready for war.
D3mon Cain vs dogwee
(Demon Underground Match)
BACKSTAGE – GM’S OFFICE
The camera cuts to Melissa Lilywhite’s office. She sits behind her desk, calm, composed, flipping through paperwork. Adam Frye stands across from her, tablet in hand.
Lilywhite slowly looks up. Her expression hardens.
MELISSA LILYWHITE:
“Adam… tell Blake Adams to head to the ring.”
She stands, leaning forward on the desk.
“I want him to kick the living hell out of BAINE.
I want a hard lesson taught in respect.”
Her voice lowers, venomous.
“Beat him down. Break his will.
Don’t stop until BAINE is in submission…”
A cold smile crosses her face.
“…until he bows at my feet.”
ADAM FRYE:
“I’m on it boss”
Lilywhite sits back down, unbothered, returning to her paperwork as the camera fades out—her command already set in motion.
blake adams vs baine
PROMO – ANGRY GM MELISSA LILYWHITE
The camera snaps to Lilywhite backstage, absolutely livid. Papers are scattered. Her composure is gone.
MELISSA LILYWHITE:
“NO!!! ADAM!!!”
She storms forward, pointing furiously.
“When that big, goofy bastard BLAKE ADAMS gets back here, you tell him this—
NEXT WEEK, for DISOBEYING ME…
for NOT FINISHING THE JOB I SPECIFICALLY ordered him to do—”
She snarls, barely containing herself.
“He’s going to be PUNISHED.”
Lilywhite pauses, then smiles coldly.
“Next week…
it’ll be ADAMS…
VERSUS HIGH TYMEZ…”
leans in, voice sharp
“TWO ON ONE. HANDICAP MATCH.”
She straightens up, fury returning.
“That’s what happens when you fail me.
That’s what happens when you show DISRESPECT.”
She glares into the camera.
“In MY company… you don’t make excuses.
You suffer consequences.”
nicole Norton vs riley knox
TRENT PAYNE:
“Devin King… I heard you’re back, old man.”
Payne chuckles, shaking his head.
“So let’s see if you’ve still got it. Because Father Time waits for no one, and last time I checked, he’s undefeated.”
He steps closer to the camera.
“Rush. Me and you.
Let’s find out if you’re a king…or just another relic.”
bruce scarlet vs bryan walker
BACKSTAGE – LOCKER ROOM
The camera cuts to a dimly lit locker room. Ro$ita sits on a bench, methodically taping her wrists. The air is heavy. She slowly looks up, eyes cold, venomous. She stands and steps toward the camera.
RO$ITA:
“Riley Knox…”
She smirks, shaking her head.
“Take notice of what I do to Yuri Hayabusa tonight.
Because what happens to her… is only a glimpse of what I’m going to do to you, rookie.”
Ro$ita leans in closer, her voice dropping.
“You may have barely beaten Nicole Norton… but when you step up to the big dog…”
Her eyes narrow.
“You’re gonna get a whoopin so bad, the venom of my wrath will seep through your soul.”
She presses a finger into her own chest.
“And I will consume it…
and destroy it…”
Ro$ita straightens up, staring directly down the lens with pure malice.
“Along with you.”
A long pause. No blink. No smile.
“The VENOM… will rise again, its show time folks!!! WOOOOO
Ro$ita glares into the camera as she skirts off toward Gorilla as her music hits and the crowd erupts…
RO$ITA vs YURI HAYABUSA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X5SWGtSkSCU
POST-MATCH PROMO – RO$ITA
The camera catches Ro$ita standing over the defeated opponent, breathing heavily, eyes still burning with intensity. She glares into the lens.
RO$ITA:
“Riley Knox… your next.” Drops the mic
Hells Requiem vs High Tymez
(Main Event)
Celebration music hits and the ring fills with emotion—until it’s abruptly cut off.
The arena lights dim.
GM MELISSA LILYWHITE steps onto the stage, microphone in hand, her presence alone silencing the crowd. She smirks, letting the moment breathe.*
MELISSA LILYWHITE:
“Oh no… no no no.
This little celebration?
It ends now.”
She looks directly into the hard cam.
“BAINE… you have exactly SEVEN DAYS to think about your future.
Seven days to decide whether you’re going to submit to me…
or keep pretending you have a choice.”
She pauses.
“Because if you don’t bow…”
A cold smile.
“Next week, you step inside a CAGE MATCH against the monster…
MEAN GENE.”
Crowd reacts loudly.
“And that’s not all.”
She turns slightly, pacing.
“HELLS REQUIEM—next week on RUSH, you’ll face Lawrence Larkspur and DK…
with the VACANT WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS on the line.”
She scoffs.
“And David Jackson… you washed-up clown.”
Points toward the ring.
“You and Ian Lucious will enter a TRIPLE THREAT MATCH against HAKU…
for the G-1 CHAMPIONSHIP.”
Another pause. Lilywhite isn’t finished.
“Oh—and since everyone seems eager to test time itself…”
Smirks.
“Trent Payne vs. Devin King is officially sanctioned.”
She lowers the mic slightly.
“That’s next week.
Those are MY decisions.
And this company will move exactly how I say it does.”
Lilywhite drops the mic and exits as the camera captures the stunned reactions in the ring.
FADE OUT.