RESULTS - FWP Scion - St. Augustine, FL - 08/28/2024

We open inside of Maverick Huntley’s office as he is finishing up a phone call.

Maverick: Yes. That actually lines up well. I will be sure to put some money into that advertising in October. Mmhmm. Yes.

As he is finishing up the phone call, Donnie Harris busts into the office without even a knock.

Maverick: Doors, they do exist for a reason you know?

Donnie: At least I was patient and polite enough to let you finish your phone call, as your secretary had informed me about. Now...

Donnie sits down in front of Maverick, sitting up straight and assertively, and looks him dead in the eye.

Donnie: Let’s talk turkey about this suspension. I don’t like it, and I know that you’re probably not in favor of imposing a punishment like that on someone who has shown up and put in the work as early as I have here.

Maverick looks at Donnie, shaking his head.

Maverick: And you think injuring people after the match has finished is somehow… acceptable? Explain to me how that works?

Donnie smirks.

Donnie: Injured? No, I sent a message. I didn’t do half as much damage as I could have done. I’m no Rousimar Palhares; I’m not out here trying to minimize a man’s ability to perform, but I’m sure that his attempt to be the more “mature adult” on X wasn’t exactly keenly accepted by the office as well.

Donnie leans forward, his gaze unwavering into Maverick’s eyes, into Mr. Huntley’s very soul.

Donnie: There is a modest amount of bloodthirst and bloodlust that courses through the veins of every viewer of every combat sport, from boxing to MMA to professional wrestling. I’m sure you’ve felt it, watching your favorite boxer winning his or her fight. Hell, even the Olympics had its fair share of bloodlust during the women’s competitions in boxing. What I did for Avery Miles the Third was tell him that I didn’t appreciate his talking down on me. That’s all. Instead of using my own words, which fell on deaf ears, I used pain, agony, anguish. I used the tools in my toolbox to show him what I do to those who want to attempt to browbeat me, win, lose or draw.

Maverick nods at Donnie, trying to hear him out with an open mind.

Maverick: I am not here to police social media, I am no one’s parent or babysitter. I am not the social police if you will. At the same time, I will also speak to Mr.Miles about his candor with other talent as well. No matter, what you did is unacceptable and I will not allow it. Your suspension for tonight stays, and your lack of in-ring action will cost you that paycheck. And this is a warning to you… injure another talent outside of the course of a match, and you will serve a longer suspension plus a fine.

Donnie listens and smirks, looking Maverick in the face and leaning back.

Donnie: I understand, sir: no injuring talent outside of the course of a match.

Maverick: Yes! That is what I said, isn’t it? Do not pull a stunt like that again. You are free to leave the building now and we expect to see you in two weeks.

Donnie nods and stands up, extending his hand.

Donnie: As long as my ranking doesn’t take too big a hit, I’m sure I’ll be able to prepare myself to give you my absolute a month from now.

Maverick shakes his hand.

Maverick: I am glad that we could talk this out. Enjoy your… “vacation”.

They shake hands as Donnie sees his way out of the office and Maverick goes back to answering phone calls and emails.




The Lights turn dim as the arena goes black. The familiar bop begins, the sounds of flashing cameras echo throughout the vicinity. In addition, the overlapping chatters among the audio insinuates paparazzi, as the flashing lights fixture to the top of the steel made ramp.

"Ok so now’s the time
To get a few things off my chest
Been killin’ it lately
But people wanna criticize my success"

Standing there The Prodigy himself appears with a self assured presence. He tilts his head back, his blonde hair flowing with his slight movements. His black leather jacket and shiny sun glasses fit the vintage aesthetic, his poise staying proper as his hands reside in his jacket pocket.

"It’s nothin’ personal
I just don’t need much help
I tried to warn you
That I’ll handle it myself"

His head cocks downward, his dark hues flaring through the luminous flashes, staring into the lens and delivering an old fashion wink. With that one simple movement, the lights in the arena resume to normal frequency.

"Move back get out the way
I’m comin’ up on my roll
Don’t care what you got to say
Ain’t gonna get to my soul"

Daniel Wolf takes off his jacket and heads down the ramp at a leisurely pace, his brims curling to a devious smirk, snickers escaping his lips as well. He enters the squared circle. Wolf kneels down, his eyes glaring at the stiff material as his digits begin to caress against the canvas. He backs away into the opposing corner, placing his sun glasses on the rigid canvas as he lowers down, setting himself onto the bottom turnbuckle awaiting his opponent.

Murphy: The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and it is your Opening Match. Inside of the ring from San Jose, California... he is DANIEL WOLF!

The signature tolling bells of AC/DC's "Hells Bells" can be heard signaling the impending arrival of the powerhouse known as Bia. The lights to the entryway pulse red as the song picks up pace.

Murphy: "Making her way to the ring…from Fremantle, Western Australia…weighing in at 75 kilograms…she is "The West Australian WarGoddess" BIA!"

The crowd cheer as Bia comes stomping out onto the entryway down to the ring. Clad in ring gear that's all metal, chains, and black leather, her hair in tight braids. She marches down to the ring, slapping the hands of the fans at ringside. Sliding into the ring she climbs onto the turnbuckle and poses, arms outstretched. She lets out a war cry as the three remaining ringposts let off a blast of red fire pyro. After a few moments she hops down, pacing as she waits for her opponent.

Kyle: She scares me... so much.

Chloe Lauren laughs as the referee calls for the bell.

DING DING

The match begins with Daniel Wolf charging towards Bia. He takes her leg out with a Basement Dropkick, sending her to a knee and grabbing the other. With her in a kneeling position, he follows it up with an Enzuigiri. He connects as it drops her to the mat. He grabs her arm looking for some sort of submission, but Bia manages to pull her arm away and shoves him off. She gets back up to her feet, and connects with a back elbow to the incoming Wolf. She grabs his arm and tries to whip him into the ropes, but he reverses it. She hits the rope and rebounds, but she nearly breaks him in two as she uses a Spear.

Lauren: What impact from the Aussie!

She quickly gets back up to her feet and drags him up to his feet. A kick to his stomach, and Bia hits a near perfect German Suplex that takes him hard down to the mat. She rolls over and covers.

ONE

And Wolf kicks out of it. Daniel shoves her off and grabs the ropes to get back up to a vertical base. He grabs her arm and twists it, locking her up. He quickly lifts and drags her arm down, sending her to one knee. A knee to the head by Wolf, and Bia's arm is still being held. She pulls her arm back in, dragging him forward as well. He stumbles as Bia is able to take advantage sliding in behind him. Another German Suplex, and both of them are down on the mat. The referee begins a ten count.

ONE

TWO

Both are still down.

THREE

FOUR

Daniel starts to stir.

FIVE

Bia grabs for the ropes.

SIX

Daniel is up to one knee.

SEVEN

EIGHT

Finally, both of them are back up to a vertical base. Daniel sees a chance, and charges forward looking for The Howling (V-Trigger/Jumping Bicycle Knee Strike) but Bia has him scouted and rolls while using a hand to send him into the ropes. He rebounds and returns back towards her. She charges forward hitting Dock Blocker (The Pounce) sending Wolf flying across the ring. She shakes it off as she gets up to her feet. Dragging Wolf up, she uses a series of strikes to keep control as she lifts him for The Maelstrom (F5/Fireman's Carry Facebuster). She struggles at first, but is able to nail it and covers with hooking both legs.

ONE

TWO

THREE

DING DING DING

Murphy: The winner of the match... BIA!



We cut backstage, where we find FWP Prestige Champion Aurora Graves standing outside the closed office door of Maverick Huntley III, her championship belt draped over her shoulder. She’s leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, staring off into the distance as she quietly hums the chorus of “It’s a Great Day to Whup Somebody’s Ass” over and over. She doesn’t wait long before the door opens, with her husband Damon Graves exiting the office.

Aurora: Soooo, did you get your business taken care of with Huntley?

Damon’s face contorts with an evil grin.

Damon: You’re damned straight I did. Hell, Huntley didn’t object at all…

Aurora smiles broadly.

Aurora: Excellent. Now, we can focus on more… pressing matters.

She arches her eyebrow and winks.

Damon: Yeah, like pressing someone’s face into the canvas…….

Mrs. Graves lets out a laugh that echoes through the hallway.

Aurora: Have I ever told you how much I love the way you think?

Damon strokes his chin in a gesture of deep thought.

Damon: Only about five times a day….

She chuckles as she boops her husband on the nose.

Aurora: Well, I LOVE the way you think! There… that makes six.

Damon: I’d call you a smartass, but we both know that’s not much of an insult…

Aurora smirks, then tilts her head slightly.

Aurora: What does Jason always say?

Damon & Aurora: “Better a smartass than a dumbass!”

From around the corner, the sound of a man clearing his throat catches their attention. They turn around to see the patriarch of the Basch family, Nathaniel Basch, approaching them with a welcoming smile on his face. Puzzled, Damon steps in front of his wife.

Damon: Hey, Nathaniel, what’s up?

Aurora: Yeah… what can we do for you?

She adjusts her championship belt so that it sits a little higher on her shoulder. Nathaniel glances at it and smiles.

Nathaniel: I just wanted to express my gratitude. You both have been instrumental in helping my daughter get her wrestling career off the ground, and I think she’s really starting to find her footing.

The champion smiles.

Aurora: We are more than happy to help, Nathaniel. After all, we were rookies once, too.

Damon: Yeah, when Donovan reached out to us, he wanted someone he could trust to smooth her transition into the business, so we did what we could to help.

Nathaniel: Donovan chose wisely. Stella has progressed at a much better pace than I’d anticipated.

Aurora nods her head.

Aurora: Well, she is a fast learner. I guess it runs in the family.

She and Damon chuckle, as does Nathaniel.

With that, Nathaniel reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a business card. He then hands it to the Graveses. Damon reaches for it, as Aurora looks on curiously.

Nathaniel: I’ve taken up enough of your time. I know you have other business to attend to later this evening, so I’ll leave you to it. However, I hope you two would be willing to discuss further collaborations. If so, you know how to reach me.

Damon and Aurora turn to look at each other briefly before turning back to Nathaniel.

Damon: Sounds intriguing… we’ll definitely be in touch…

Nathaniel smiles as he steps back.

Nathaniel: I look forward to it.

He tips his head to the couple, then takes his leave. Aurora turns to her husband and looks at him quizzically.

Aurora: I wonder what that was about?

Damon: Knowing the Basch family, it sure as hell won’t be boring…

They stare down the hallway, nodding their heads as the scene fades out.



Murphy: The following contest is set for one fall….

The arena lights cut out. A white light flashes from the stage. It pauses momentarily. The opening trumpets of “El Asesino Killer” by DeCalifornia announces the arrival of Omar Mesias. The crowd, especially the ladies, go ape shit. When Krooked of DeCalifornia begins his lyrical assassination, the stage lights up and Omar appears in his long Assassin Creed-inspired hooded coat. He stands on the stage making the “L-A” hand sign towards the ring before pointing at the ring (or his opponent) with a pistol hand sign. He "shoots" the ring before removing his hood and heading for the ring.

Murphy: Making his way to the ring, weighing in at 205 pounds, he is “El Niño Asesino”... “The Baby-Faced Assassin”... OMARRR MESIIIAAASSS!

Omar slides into the ring and hops on the nearest turnbuckle. He does the “L-A” followed by the pistol hand sign to the crowd. After receiving his pop, he hops off the turnbuckle and goes to the opposite corner and does the same before heading to a neutral corner to remove this coat and prepare for the match.

Lauren: I’m looking forward this match, seeing as this is Mesias’ FWP debut…

Kyle: Makes you wonder if he can keep his nervousness in check or will he choke under the pressure?

Lauren: From everything I’ve seen, he seems to be excited, yet calculated. He should do just fine.

The arena is quiet for a few moments before “Omnishred” hits the speakers and there is cheering coming from the crowd. After a few moments and smoke fills the entrance ramp, you see Andrew making his way out from behind the curtain. He looks around a little bit as the crowd gets riled up, Andrew soaks it in a moment before throwing his hands outward and pyro setting off around him. He smirks and makes his way down towards the ring, he doesn't take the time to acknowledge fans though as he slides in under the ropes and heads to the corner turnbuckle to rile up the crowd.

Murphy: And his opponent, weighing in at 225 pounds, from Montreal, Quebec, Canada… he is ANDREWWW RAYYYYNNNNESS!!!

Kyle: Huge experience advantage for Raynes…

Lauren: I wouldn’t count Mesias out quite yet.

Referee Garrett Addams relays his final instructions to both men before signaling to the timekeeper to ring the bell.

Kyle: And here we go!

DING DING

The two combatants lock up in the middle of the ring, with neither man gaining much ground in a contest of strength.

Lauren: Looks like both of them are evenly matched physically…

Raynes transitions to a side headlock, which Mesias counters by shooting him into the far ropes. Before Raynes can duck, he’s met on the rebound with a shotgun dropkick. Andrew tumbles back towards the ropes, while Omar kips up to his feet. When Omar reaches down to pull Andrew back to his feet, Raynes uses his momentum to drive his shoulder into Mesias’ midsection, driving the air out of him.

Kyle: And there’s that experience factor I was talking about earlier..

With Omar doubled over, Andrew hammers the back of his neck with the point of his elbow, following it up with a kneelift that sends Mesias to the mat. Raynes tries to press his advantage by dropping an elbow, but Omar rolls out of the way. Both men roll away from each other, allowing them the opportunity to get back on their feet.

Lauren: Say what you will, but Omar Mesias is definitely holding his own thus far…

Closing the gap between them, Raynes fires off a lariat, which Omar ducks, responding with a crisp right jab. Having staggered Andrew for the moment, Mesias proceeds to unleash a flurry of MMA-styled strikes and kicks, capping it off with a spinning back fist, flooring Raynes. Mesias immediately goes for the pin.

ONE!!

TW- Shoulder up!

Kyle: Mesias was slightly out of place on that pin, allowing Raynes to slip out the back door…

Lauren: Still, Mesias’ boxing background comes to bear in this contest..

Omar applies a read chinlock to Andrew, trying to wear him out. Slowly, Raynes forces the pair back to a vertical base. He suddenly wraps his arms around Omar’s head and drops back to the mat, driving the back of his skull into his foe’s jaw, making him break the hold.

Lauren: Impressive way to escape the hold…

Raynes whips Mesias into the ropes and hits the ropes on the opposite side of the ring, blasting his opponent with a running high knee.

Kyle: Code of the Sith!!!

Raynes hooks Omar’s leg as the referee drops into position to count the pin.

ONE!!

TWO!!

Kickout!

Raynes slams his fists into the mat in frustration.

Lauren: Uh-oh, Andrew Raynes may be losing his composure…

Kyle: He’ll regain it soon enough. He’s a professional…

Both men get back to their feet and begin to trade blows. Eventually, Omar comes out of this contest, staggering Andrew long enough to land a vicious side kick to the ribs. With Raynes dazed as he is, he is unable to prevent Mesias from picking him up and placing him on the top turnbuckle, facing the audience.

Lauren: High risk move on the menu!

Kyle: Yeah, but has he worn Raynes down enough yet?

Omar follows suit and stands on the top rope facing the audience, using the ropes to give him enough lift to wrap his legs around Andrews neck, arching backwards as gravity asserts itself on both men.

Lauren: Poison Rana by Omar Mesias!

As both men hurtle to the mat, instead of being released, Andrew locks his arms around Mesias’ thighs and rolls through, with Omar’s shoulders planted on the mat. The referee slides into position and makes the count…

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THREE!!!

The referee signals for the bell to end the match.

Kyle: That was phenomenal ring awareness by Andrew Raynes, turning what would be a match ending maneuver to his advantage…

Murphy: The winner of this match, via pinfall… ANDREWWW RAYYYNNESS!!!



Liam Murphy: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall!

The Crowd: ONE FALL!

Liam Murphy: Introducing first, from Windsor, Ontario, Canada, he weighs in at two hundred twenty-seven pounds… He is Griffin Hawkins!

Fans eagerly await what's to come. Suddenly, the sound of a guitar playing is heard. "Separate Ways" by Journey hits in and from behind the curtain enters Griffin Hawkins! He walks down the ramp in Pink Zebra print tights and a sleeveless mesh shirt. His signature leather jacket and silver aviator shades adorn him as he walks down, high fiving fans as he soaks in the positive reaction. He looks towards the ring and steps up the stairs, looking towards the cheering crowd with a smile.

He steps between the ropes and gets on the turnbuckles, raising the devil horns in the air… pumping up the live crowd. Soon he gets down, taking off his leather jacket before going outside the ring. He takes off his aviators and puts them around a young excited fan, smiling down at him. As he gets back in the ring he paces back and forth, waiting for the match to begin.

Lauren: The fans are hyped for Griff tonight!

Kyle: Oh, great, this guy…

Lauren: You’re sour tonight.

Kyle: What?! I didn’t win anything on this scratcher! Ten bucks wasted…

While Lauren sighs, Murphy presses on.

Liam Murphy: Aaaaand his opponent…

The lights shut off in the arena, as chanting begins playing. A very tall man in a black cape makes his way out to the arena, as several white spotlights shine upon him. He puts his head, down as a smaller woman is raised up in front of him. She keeps her head down, and turns around revealing the word written across her back as Reaper.

Dori me
Interimo, adapare
Dori me
Ameno, Ameno

Latire
Latiremo
Dori me
Ameno

As the chanting stops, Darcy turns around flipping her hood, as the tall man drops his cape. Ciaran Page is standing behind her, as “Believer” by No Resolve & State of Mine begins playing. The lights on the stage begin to flicker red, as Darcy lets her black hair fall, then looks up, hammer fisting her other hand. She then begins the walk down, as her father follows her. Darcy stops at the bottom of the ramp, as she pounds her hands together again, lightning going off in the background.

Pain!
You made me a, you made me a believer, believer
Pain!
You break me down, you build me up, believer, believer
Pain!
Oh let the bullets fly, oh let them rain
My life, my love, my drive, it came from...
Pain!
You made me a, you made me a believer, believer

Darcy then climbs up onto the apron, looking into the ring. She motions, and her father opens the second rope for her, which she steps through. Darcy then goes over undoing the sash letting her Gi fall behind her, as her father catches it. He then steps out of the ring, as the announcer speaks.

Liam Murphy: From Dublin, Ireland, weighing 9.5 St, she is the Reaper, Darcy Graves!

Darcy backs off, then goes over to where her father is standing to get a last-minute coach. She then watched, waiting, anticipating the fight.

Kyle: So… am I the only one getting creepy vibes from the Graves Reject?

Lauren: What’s the matter with you, Bryce?!

Kyle: I’m just saying! The Ameno, Ameno, the edgy cover of the original Believer, and her old man shrouded in darkness…

Lauren: Ohhh… You are just the worst today, aren’t you?

Without answering, Kyle just shrugs. In the ring, Griffin extends his hand out to Darcy who looks at it for a moment, then looks at him. She accepts it and they shake hands. The referee nods and signals for the bell.

DING DING

Once the bell rings, Griffin and Darcy lock up in the center of the ring. Despite the height and weight difference, Darcy’s strength is holding up against Griffin’s. He starts to fight back, using his power, but she suddenly kicks him in the midsection and follows up with a knee to the face. Griffin staggers back, while Darcy chains together a trio of kicks, high, low, and middle. The body blows force him against the ropes. She runs forward and clotheslines him over the top rope and out of the ring! The referee checks on Griffin and begins to count.

ONE!

TWO!

Griffin shakes off the cobwebs and looks up at Darcy who smirks at him. He takes a moment to compose himself.

THREE!

FOUR!

With a nod, Griffin rolls back into the ring to break the count -- and Darcy’s right on top of him with stomps. She steps back, allowing Griffin to get up, and she kicks him in the midsection. The fans are impressed by her strength when she levels him with a bridging suplex. The referee counts!

ONE!

TW--!

Griffin kicks out!

Darcy straightens up and pulls Griffin to his feet. She runs back and bounces herself off the ropes, nailing him with “Walking the Dead” (Running Single Leg High Knee)! He hits the mat like a sack of potatoes, then she moves in and covers him, hooking the leg.

ONE!

TWO!

Still, Griffin kicks out!

The match continues to be dominated by Darcy for a time. The fans are teetering back and forth between who to cheer for. It’s divided with “Let’s go, Hawkins! | Let’s go, Graves!” chants. Griffin takes the motivation from his fans and he rises, blocking another suplex attempt by Darcy. Instead, he counters with a DDT! She’s planted onto the mat, and now it’s his turn to attempt the pin. The referee counts!

ONE!

TW--

Now Darcy kicks out!

Finally, the tides turn in Griffin’s favor. He takes control of the match, combining different lucha libre moves to keep her in confusion. He finds a way to switch things up, blasting her with “Star Platinum” (Phenomenal Forearm)! Once Darcy falls, he moves in for the cover and the hook of the leg.

ONE!

TWO!

No! Darcy kicks out!

Griffin smiles, impressed by her fighting spirit. When he moves to pull her up, however, she rakes him in the eye! He staggers back with a groan, while she tries to recalibrate herself. The referee checks on Griffin who shakes his head. Darcy takes a deep breath and begins to rise. Griffin’s vision clears and he sees her moving in. There’s a grapple attempt by him, but she maneuvers away and slams both of her knees into his ribs, driving oxygen out of him. Doubling over slightly, Griffin hisses through his teeth. Darcy takes advantage, gritting her teeth, and somehow lifting him up! She pulls off “Grave Keeper” (Bridging Dragon Suplex) and goes for the pin in such a technical manner!

ONE!

TWO!

TH--

Somehow, Griffin gets his shoulder up!

Darcy glares at the referee, hoping for a three-count. The referee confirms the two, while she growls. Lifting Griffin up, Darcy continues to work on him, body blows in different places. Some of the fans anticipate the end, realizing she’s going for “Grave Digger” (Coffin Drop) -- except Griffin evades the finisher! Darcy is shaken up for a brief moment, but it’s enough for Griffin to turn around and execute “Shot In The Dark” (Superkick)! She hits the mat HARD, then he moves in to cover her, hooking the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING DING DING

Liam Murphy: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the match… GRIFFIN HAWKINS!



The FWP’s hot camera heads backstage. Willow Quinn is shown, much to the delight of the male audience, walking one of the arena halls heading for the gorilla position. She has a serious look on her face in anticipation of her match. As she passes the medical trainers door, Willow’s concentration is broken when the door opens and Omar Mesias nearly collides with her. Omar is glistening with sweat from his tough match with Andrew Raynes. Willow is appalled by the audacity of a sweaty wrestler being near her before her match.

Willow: Eew! Sweaty… stinky man!

Omar smirks proudly at the sight of the angelic Willow. He gives her a quick once-over.

Omar: Orale mamacita! What’s with you and running into people in the halls?

Willow takes a step back and puts a hand on her hip. With her other hand, she points defiantly at Omar.

Willow: YOU!

Omar: (with a playful smile) Yes me! And Omar is my name.

Willow: Uh whatever… you need to understand this, muchacho (bad accent). People run into ME. I can’t help it if some individuals are oblivious to angels! We just vibrate at a higher frequency than… (gives Omar a once-over) the average person.

Omar feigns shock then looks down momentarily to flex his washboard abs at Willow. They pop in the light due to the sweat.

Omar: There isn’t ANYTHING average about these abs, baby. Here check these out.

Willow: Don’t call me…

Omar grabs Willow’s non-hipped hand and places it on his shredded abdomen before she has a chance to react.

Omar: ¡Qué te dije! What did I tell you? These are elite abs!

Omar drags Willow’s hand over the hard muscles while also getting her hand soiled with his sweat. Willow is oblivious to the situation momentarily. She seems to like it for an instant. Omar proudly smirks. Then reality sets in.

Willow: EWW GROSS!

Willow looks at her now sweaty hand and runs into the trainer’s room. Her voice echoes as she demands hand sanitizer. She yells at the trainer’s assistant to hurry up. Omar chuckles to himself and shakes his head amused. He yells back at Willow.

Omar: Catch you later, mamacita! Good luck on your match!

Proud of himself, Omar heads towards the locker room area. He gives the camera a coy parting shot.

Omar: She might be a little fresa… stuck up… but DAMN she can vibrate in my frequency anytime.

Omar gives the camera a peace sign.

Omar: Adios!