DW Clash 40
The Stratford Arena, London, England
19th August 2024
The camera pans across the packed Stratford Arena in London, where thousands of roaring fans are on their feet, eagerly anticipating another explosive night of Dynasty Wrestling action. The lights flash in rhythm with the energetic theme music, and the atmosphere is electric as DW Clash 40 is about to get underway!
The camera then zooms in on the commentary desk where Steve Pringle and Eddie Bates are seated, ready to call all the action for the night.
Steve Pringle: “Welcome, everyone, to DW Clash 40! We are live from the Stratford Arena here in London, and the energy in this place is absolutely off the charts! I’m Steve Pringle, alongside my partner, Eddie Bates, and tonight, we’ve got an incredible lineup of matches that you won’t want to miss!”
Eddie Bates: “That’s right, Steve! Tonight, the stakes couldn’t be higher as the undefeated DW UK Champion Jonathan Sullivan puts his title on the line against ‘The Gentleman’ Geoffrey Hobbs! Sullivan has been unstoppable since capturing the championship, but Hobbs is a seasoned veteran with a lot of tricks up his sleeve. This is going to be one hell of a match!”
Steve Pringle: “No doubt about it, Eddie. Hobbs is as cunning as they come, and you know he’s been studying Sullivan’s every move. But can he be the one to end Sullivan’s dominant reign? We’ll find out later tonight!”
Eddie Bates: “And that’s not all, Steve! We’ve got a stacked card from top to bottom, with rivalries intensifying and some huge announcements expected as we inch closer to our next big event!”
The camera cuts to shots of the buzzing crowd, signs held high in support of their favorite wrestlers, as the commentators continue to hype up the show.
Steve Pringle: “The fans here in London are ready for a night of unforgettable action, and so are we! So buckle up, folks, because DW Clash 40 starts right now!”
The camera pulls back to a wide shot of the arena as the first entrance music hits, signaling the beginning of what promises to be another thrilling night in Dynasty Wrestling!
Backstage
The Viking Champion
The arena lights dim as a haunting, deep drumbeat echoes through the Stratford Arena. The crowd’s boos intensify as the new DW Heavyweight Champion, Bjorn Asulf, emerges from the entrance, his imposing figure illuminated by a single spotlight. Draped over his shoulder is the DW Heavyweight Championship belt, glinting under the arena lights. Asulf marches down to the ring with a sneer, completely unfazed by the hostile reception from the London crowd.
As Asulf steps into the ring, he hoists the championship belt high above his head, turning slowly to show off his prize to all corners of the arena. The boos grow even louder, but Asulf only seems to relish in the negativity. He grabs a microphone, pacing back and forth in the ring before finally speaking.
Bjorn Asulf: “Is this how you greet your champion? With jeers and boos?” He shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Pathetic. I expected more from you, England. But perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. You don’t know what it means to have a true warrior, a true Viking, standing before you!”
The crowd continues to boo, with some fans starting a chant of “You Suck!” Asulf smirks, waiting for the noise to die down.
Bjorn Asulf: “This title—” he taps the championship on his shoulder “—belongs to a real man, a conqueror! And yet, here you are, booing me? You should be on your knees, showing respect to the Viking who crushed your hero and now stands atop this company as your DW Heavyweight Champion!”
As the boos continue, suddenly, Union Jack’s music hits, and the crowd explodes in cheers. The English luchador, Union Jack, appears on the entrance ramp, microphone in hand. He pauses for a moment, soaking in the crowd’s reaction before making his way to the ring. He steps through the ropes, standing face-to-face with Asulf, who looks both surprised and disgusted.
Union Jack: “Bjorn Asulf, it’s clear you don’t understand what it means to be a champion—what it means to represent this company. These fans—” he gestures to the crowd, who cheer in response “—are the lifeblood of Dynasty Wrestling. They pay their hard-earned money to be here, to see us give everything we’ve got. And what do you do? You insult them, disrespect them?”
The crowd cheers even louder, clearly behind Union Jack. Asulf’s expression darkens, his grip tightening on the microphone.
Union Jack: “A real champion, a real man, respects these people. You might be the champion, Bjorn, but you’ve got a lot to learn about being a leader, about being someone these fans can be proud of!”
Asulf glares at Union Jack, the tension between them palpable. He takes a step closer, towering over the smaller, but determined Englishman.
Bjorn Asulf: “How dare you interrupt me, you insignificant worm! You think you can lecture me on respect? You should be on your knees, begging for forgiveness for daring to step into my ring!”
Asulf’s voice drips with contempt as he stares down at Union Jack, who doesn’t back down. The crowd’s cheers swell again, sensing the brewing conflict.
Bjorn Asulf: “You want to talk about respect? How about I teach you a lesson in respect the Viking way? Right here, tonight, I’ll crush you like I did everyone else who stood in my way! I challenge you to a match, Union Jack! Let’s see if you can back up those big words of yours!”
Union Jack smirks, nodding confidently as the crowd erupts in cheers once more.
Union Jack: “You want a fight? You’ve got one! But know this, Asulf—tonight, I’m not just fighting for myself, I’m fighting for every single fan here in London, for everyone who’s sick of seeing you disrespect them. Get ready, ‘Viking’, because you’re about to learn what it means to face a true Englishman!”
The crowd roars in approval as Union Jack drops the microphone, staring down Bjorn Asulf, who simply smirks back, clearly eager for the match later tonight. The tension in the ring is palpable as the two men lock eyes, neither willing to back down, setting the stage for a showdown that the fans can’t wait to see.
Backstage
Team Mates
Backstage at the Stratford Arena, the camera follows Alexander Hate and Harry Black, the members of British Hospitality, as they walk down a dimly lit hallway. Their faces are a mix of concern and frustration as they search for their teammate, Kyle McRae. The two exchange worried glances as they approach a door with a “Kyle McRae” nameplate on it.
Alexander Hate: “He has to be in here. We need to figure out what’s going on with him.”
Harry Black nods in agreement as they reach the door. Hate knocks firmly, waiting for a response. There’s no answer. After a moment, he knocks again, harder this time, but still nothing.
Harry Black: “Mate, something’s off. He didn’t even show up last week when we got jumped by Blackhart. That’s not like him.”
Hate frowns, turning the handle and slowly pushing the door open. The camera follows them inside the room, revealing that it’s completely empty. The locker is untouched, and the lights are off. The room shows no signs of McRae’s presence.
Alexander Hate: “Where the hell is he? He should be getting ready for our match tonight.”
Harry Black walks around the room, checking behind lockers and in the bathroom, but it’s clear that Kyle McRae isn’t there.
Harry Black: “This isn’t right, Alex. He’s not here, and no one’s seen him all night.”
Alexander Hate’s frustration grows as he looks around the empty room, then back at Harry Black.
Alexander Hate: “He’s been acting strange ever since that loss at the PPV, but I didn’t think it’d come to this. We’re a team—he should’ve had our backs last week, and now he’s not even here.”
Harry Black sighs, leaning against the wall, clearly troubled.
Harry Black: “We need to find him, mate. Something’s going on with Kyle, and we need to get to the bottom of it before it tears us apart.”
Alexander Hate nods in agreement, but his expression is one of uncertainty. The two stand in the empty room, the tension and concern evident as they realize their friend, Kyle McRae, is nowhere to be found. The camera lingers on their worried faces as the scene fades out, leaving the mystery of McRae’s whereabouts hanging in the air.
Single Match
Oliver Harrington vs. Riley Smith
Backstage
Tough Bastard
Backstage at the Stratford Arena, William Smith stands in front of the DW backdrop, microphone in hand. Next to him is the gruff Irishman, Liam O’Donovan, still visibly recovering from his hard-fought match against Jonathan Sullivan last week. O’Donovan’s expression is a mix of determination and lingering frustration as Smith begins the interview.
William Smith: “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m here with Liam O’Donovan, who put on a hell of a performance last week against Jonathan Sullivan for the DW UK Championship. Liam, you came incredibly close to winning the title. How are you feeling after such a hard-fought match?”
O’Donovan scratches his stubbled chin, his eyes narrowing as he recalls the battle.
Liam O’Donovan: “Aye, Sullivan’s a tough bastard, no doubt about it. I gave him everything I had, but he came out on top. It stings, Smith, it really does. But I’m not one to sit around and lick me wounds. I’ll get another shot, and next time, it’ll be a different story.”
Smith nods, sensing the determination in O’Donovan’s voice.
William Smith: “You certainly have the heart of a champion, Liam. Tonight, you’re set to face Leo Lewis. What’s your mindset going into this match?”
Before O’Donovan can respond, the camera pans to the side as Oliver Harrington, still fresh from his victory over Riley Smith, struts into the frame. Harrington’s trademark arrogance is on full display as he smirks at the two men.
Oliver Harrington: “Are you kidding me, Smith? You’re wasting time interviewing this Irish has-been instead of talking to a real star like me? I mean, come on—nobody cares about O’Donovan. The real story here is Oliver Harrington, the Essex Pretty Boy, and the fact that I’m still the biggest name in this company, title or not.”
O’Donovan’s expression darkens, his fists clenching as he steps closer to Harrington, his voice low and dangerous.
Liam O’Donovan: “Careful now, Harrington. You might’ve been a champion once, but you’ve got no business disrespectin’ me like that. You think you’re the only one around here with something to prove? Step outta line, and I’ll gladly remind you that I’m not a man to be trifled with.”
Harrington scoffs, looking O’Donovan up and down with disdain.
Oliver Harrington: “Please, O’Donovan, you’re not even in my league. Why don’t you focus on your little match with Leo Lewis and leave the big leagues to someone who actually matters?”
O’Donovan takes another step forward, the tension between the two men palpable. William Smith glances nervously between them, sensing the situation could escalate at any moment.
Liam O’Donovan: “You’ve got a big mouth, Harrington. Maybe one day, I’ll shut it for ya.”
Harrington sneers, taking a step back as he waves off O’Donovan dismissively.
Oliver Harrington: “In your dreams, Paddy.”
With that, Harrington turns and saunters off, leaving O’Donovan simmering with anger. William Smith, looking a bit rattled, quickly tries to regain control of the interview.
William Smith: “Liam, it seems like there’s no shortage of rivals gunning for you. Any final thoughts before your match with Leo Lewis tonight?”
O’Donovan exhales sharply, his eyes still locked on the direction Harrington left.
Liam O’Donovan: “Aye, I’ve got a few people to deal with. But tonight, Leo Lewis is in my sights. I’m not lettin’ anyone else stand in my way. Not Sullivan, not Harrington, and certainly not Lewis. I’m comin’ for what’s mine.”
O’Donovan turns and walks off, leaving William Smith alone with the camera, clearly impressed by the fire in the Irishman’s eyes.
William Smith: “Well, there you have it, folks. Liam O’Donovan is more determined than ever. His match against Leo Lewis is coming up next. Stay tuned.”
The scene fades out as the intensity of the moment lingers in the air.
Single Match
Leo Lewis vs. Liam O’Donovan
Backstage
May the Best Man Win
Backstage at the Stratford Arena, the camera cuts to a focused Jonathan Sullivan, the reigning DW UK Champion, as he goes through his warm-up routine. Sullivan, clad in his wrestling gear, is shadowboxing in front of a mirror, his title belt draped over a nearby bench. The intensity in his eyes is clear—he’s ready for the challenge ahead.
As Sullivan continues his warm-up, the camera catches a figure approaching from behind. It’s Geoffrey Hobbs, his opponent for the night. Dressed in his ring gear and a confident smile, Hobbs walks up to Sullivan, who pauses and turns to face him. The two men stand face-to-face, the atmosphere tense but respectful.
Geoffrey Hobbs: “Jonathan, I just wanted to say… I’m looking forward to our match tonight. You’ve been a dominant champion, no doubt about it. But I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for a long time, and I’m ready to give you the fight of your life. May the best man win.”
Sullivan listens, a smirk slowly forming on his face as Hobbs extends his hand. After a moment, Sullivan reaches out and firmly shakes Hobbs’ hand. The two men lock eyes, the mutual respect evident, but there’s an undeniable edge in Sullivan’s demeanor.
Jonathan Sullivan: “You’re right, Hobbs. It’s gonna be a hell of a match. But let’s get one thing straight—I’m the best man, and I don’t plan on letting this title go anytime soon.”
Hobbs doesn’t back down, meeting Sullivan’s gaze with unwavering confidence. The tension between them is palpable, the quiet intensity of two competitors who know what’s at stake.
Geoffrey Hobbs: “We’ll see about that in the ring.”
Sullivan nods, his smirk widening slightly as he lets go of Hobbs’ hand. He takes a step back, his eyes still locked on his challenger.
Jonathan Sullivan: “Oh, we will.”
With that, Hobbs gives a final nod and turns to walk away, leaving Sullivan to finish his warm-up. As the camera focuses back on Sullivan, he returns to his shadowboxing, the smirk still playing on his lips. The confidence in his every move suggests a man who is more than ready to defend his title, no matter who steps up to challenge him.
The scene fades out, the tension in the air a sign of the battle to come later tonight.
Single Match
Alexander Hate vs. Angus Blackhart
Ringside
Targeted
After a grueling match between Alexander Hate and Angus Blackhart, the ring is filled with an air of tension. Blackhart has just secured the victory, standing tall over the fallen Hate. The crowd’s boos rain down as Blackhart’s expression darkens—victory alone isn’t enough for the Scottish brute.
Hate, still reeling from the match, struggles to push himself up from the mat. But Blackhart has no intention of letting him recover. He steps out of the ring, the crowd growing louder as they sense what’s coming. Blackhart reaches under the apron and pulls out a steel chair, the metal gleaming under the arena lights. He slowly slides back into the ring, his eyes locked on the defenseless Hate, who’s now barely on his knees.
The commentators, Steve Pringle and Eddie Bates, voice their concern over what’s about to happen.
Steve Pringle: “This is going too far! Blackhart’s already won the match, but it looks like he’s not finished with Alexander Hate!”
Eddie Bates: “Someone’s got to stop this! Blackhart’s looking to make a statement, and it’s not going to be pretty!”
As Blackhart raises the chair above his head, ready to bring it crashing down on Hate, the crowd suddenly erupts into cheers. Charging down the ramp is Harry Black, Hate’s tag team partner, with a determined look on his face. He slides into the ring just in time, tackling Blackhart and causing him to drop the chair. The two men exchange blows as the arena comes alive with excitement.
Blackhart, caught off guard by the sudden assault, struggles to regain control. Harry Black’s desperation fuels his offense as he drives Blackhart back, forcing the Scottish brute to retreat out of the ring. Blackhart stumbles back to the outside, glaring at Harry Black with seething rage. The crowd cheers loudly for the save, but Blackhart’s menacing expression makes it clear that this isn’t over.
Harry Black quickly checks on his fallen partner, helping Alexander Hate to his feet. The two men stand side by side, staring down Blackhart, who snarls in frustration from the outside. With a final glare, Blackhart points threateningly at the pair before backing away up the ramp, his eyes never leaving them.
Steve Pringle: “Harry Black may have just saved his partner from a brutal assault, but you can bet this is far from over between these three!”
Eddie Bates: “Blackhart wanted to send a message tonight, but Harry Black wasn’t about to let him destroy Alexander Hate! This rivalry just took a whole new turn!”
As Blackhart retreats up the ramp, Harry Black and Alexander Hate stand tall in the ring, the crowd firmly behind them. The tension in the arena is thick, and it’s clear that the battle between British Hospitality and Angus Blackhart is only just beginning.
Backstage
Unbreakable
Backstage at the Stratford Arena, the camera focuses on the ever-charismatic William Smith, microphone in hand, standing beside a confident and intense-looking ‘Unbreakable’ Angelo Anderson. The crowd buzzes in the background, anticipating what Anderson has to say after earning himself a future DW Heavyweight Championship match.
William Smith: “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m here with the man who has earned a future shot at the DW Heavyweight Championship, ‘Unbreakable’ Angelo Anderson. Angelo, first of all, congratulations on securing your number one contender status. How are you feeling about your upcoming opportunity?”
Anderson, with a smirk on his face, looks directly into the camera, exuding confidence and calmness.
Angelo Anderson: “Thanks, William. You know, I’ve been in this business long enough to know that opportunities like this don’t come around every day. But when they do, you better believe I’m ready to take it. Bjorn Asulf may be the champ right now, but I’m not just some stepping stone—I’m the man who’s going to take that title off his shoulders.”
The crowd in the arena can be heard reacting to Anderson’s bold words, a mix of boos and cheers. Anderson’s confidence is palpable as he continues, his tone turning slightly more serious.
Angelo Anderson: “Asulf’s got a match against Union Jack later tonight, and while I’m sure that’ll be an entertaining little distraction, it’s just that—a distraction. Asulf should be less concerned about wasting his time with a guy like Union Jack and more worried about what happens when he steps in the ring with me. Because when that bell rings, the only thing that’ll be on his mind is how he’s going to survive against ‘Unbreakable’ Angelo Anderson.”
Anderson pauses, letting his words sink in, as the camera zooms in on his intense expression. He then turns his attention back to William Smith, his voice dropping lower, filled with certainty.
Angelo Anderson: “Union Jack is tough, no doubt about it. But he’s not the one Asulf should be worried about. That title he’s carrying? It’s got a target on it now, and I’m the one taking aim. So Bjorn, enjoy your little fight tonight. Because soon enough, it won’t be Union Jack standing across from you in that ring—it’ll be me. And when that happens, I’ll show you and everyone else why they call me ‘Unbreakable.’”
William Smith nods, clearly impressed by Anderson’s focus and determination.
William Smith: “Strong words from a strong competitor. Angelo, we look forward to seeing what happens when you finally get your shot at the DW Heavyweight Championship. Thank you for your time.”
Anderson gives a final confident nod, turning and walking off as the camera lingers on him, his intensity leaving a lasting impression on the viewers. The screen fades to black as the scene transitions back to the action in the arena.
DW UK Championship Match
Jonathan Sullivan (c) vs. Geoffrey Hobbs
Backstage
Gentlemen
The crowd at the Stratford Arena is electric as the final bell rings, signaling the end of a hard-fought battle between DW UK Champion Jonathan Sullivan and his challenger, Geoffrey Hobbs. Sullivan stands victorious in the center of the ring, his DW UK Championship belt draped over his shoulder, sweat glistening on his brow. The referee raises his arm in victory as the crowd erupts in cheers, showing their appreciation for the incredible match they’ve just witnessed.
Geoffrey Hobbs, though defeated, pushes himself to his feet, his expression a mix of disappointment and exhaustion. He locks eyes with Sullivan, who takes a moment to catch his breath before stepping forward. Sullivan, with a determined yet respectful look on his face, extends his hand towards Hobbs, offering a handshake just as he did with his opponent the previous week.
The crowd murmurs in anticipation, wondering if Hobbs will accept the gesture. Hobbs hesitates, his pride clearly stung by the loss, but after a moment’s pause, he nods to himself, recognizing the sportsmanship being offered. Slowly, Hobbs reaches out and grasps Sullivan’s hand, shaking it firmly.
The Stratford Arena explodes in cheers, the crowd applauding the show of respect between the two competitors. Sullivan, always the composed and focused champion, gives Hobbs a nod of acknowledgment, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Hobbs, though disappointed, returns the nod, appreciating the moment of camaraderie despite the outcome.
As the handshake ends, Sullivan raises his DW UK Championship belt high above his head, the crowd continuing to cheer for the reigning champion. Hobbs steps back, giving Sullivan his moment to celebrate, and then raises Sullivan’s hand in a gesture of respect. The crowd’s cheers grow even louder, appreciating the sportsmanship and the quality of the match they’ve just witnessed.
With the respect between them now clear, Hobbs exits the ring, leaving Sullivan to soak in the adulation of the fans. The camera focuses on Sullivan, standing tall in the center of the ring, holding his championship high as the crowd’s cheers echo through the arena, a symbol of what true competition and respect in the ring look like.
The segment ends with Sullivan celebrating his victory, the crowd’s applause still ringing as the screen fades to black, setting the stage for what’s to come in the DW UK Championship scene.
Backstage
The Raven Watches
The screen fades in from black, revealing a dimly lit room, the atmosphere heavy with an eerie silence. The only source of light comes from a single, flickering candle placed on a weathered wooden table. The camera slowly pans around the room, revealing the cracked, stone walls adorned with dark, tattered banners depicting a raven in flight—a symbol of the man who once ruled as DW Heavyweight Champion.
In the center of the room, seated on an old wooden chair, is a figure draped in a long, black coat. The shadows obscure his face, but the unmistakable glint of a freshly shaved head catches the light. As the camera moves closer, the figure slowly raises his head, revealing the cold, intense gaze of ‘the Black Raven’ Cedric Thornfield. His eyes burn with a mixture of anger, determination, and something far more sinister—a hunger for redemption.
Cedric Thornfield: (His voice is low, almost a whisper, but carries a sharp edge, every word dripping with venom.) “Change… it’s inevitable. When you fall from grace, when your world crumbles around you, you have two choices: fade into the darkness… or embrace it.”
Thornfield leans forward, the candlelight casting long shadows across his face, highlighting the gaunt, hollow features of a man who has undergone a transformation, both physically and mentally.
Cedric Thornfield: “Bjorn Asulf… ‘the Viking’ who took what was mine. You stand there now, basking in the glory of my title, feeling untouchable. But know this—what you hold, that gold, it’s only yours because I allowed it. My reign, my legacy, it didn’t end… it evolved.”
Thornfield’s eyes narrow, the intensity in his gaze growing with each passing moment.
Cedric Thornfield: “And you, Angelo Anderson… you’ve clawed your way to the top, earning your shot at the throne. You think you’re unbreakable, but you’ve never faced a force like me. The darkness that surrounds me, the power that I wield—it’s beyond anything you can imagine. You may challenge for that title, but be warned… when you step into that ring, you’ll be stepping into my world.”
The camera zooms in on Thornfield’s face, the flickering candlelight dancing in his eyes as a dark smile slowly spreads across his lips.
Cedric Thornfield: “Asulf, Anderson… you both stand at the precipice of your own downfall. I will rise from the shadows, reborn, stronger, more ruthless than ever before. And when I return…”
Thornfield pauses, the smile vanishing as his expression turns deadly serious.
Cedric Thornfield: “…I will reclaim what is mine. The Raven King will once again reign supreme. And you will both be nothing but prey.”
With those final words, Thornfield leans back into the shadows, the candle flickering violently before being snuffed out, plunging the room into complete darkness. The screen lingers for a moment in the pitch black, the weight of Thornfield’s warning hanging in the air, before slowly fading to black, leaving an ominous sense of foreboding as the segment ends.
Single Match
Bjorn Asulf vs. Union Jack
Ringside
Ready to Showdown
The arena lights dim slightly as the echo of the final bell reverberates through the Stratford Arena. The crowd’s boos mix with scattered cheers as “The Viking” Bjorn Asulf stands tall in the center of the ring, sweat dripping from his brow, the DW Heavyweight Championship clutched firmly in his hands. Union Jack lies motionless at the edge of the ring, defeated after a hard-fought main event.
Bjorn Asulf raises the championship belt high above his head, his face a mask of cold, unyielding determination. The crowd’s reaction intensifies, but the Viking remains unfazed, basking in the moment. He steps to each corner, holding the belt aloft, daring anyone to challenge his reign.
The camera pans around the arena, capturing the mixed emotions of the crowd before cutting to a different scene backstage. Angelo Anderson, dressed in his ring gear and a “Unbreakable” T-shirt, stands in front of a TV monitor. His eyes are locked on the screen, watching Asulf’s celebration with a look of steely focus. Anderson’s jaw tightens, and his fists clench at his sides, the intensity in his expression mirroring the battle that’s soon to come.
The camera cuts back to the ring, where Asulf lowers the championship belt and drapes it over his shoulder, his icy gaze scanning the crowd as if daring anyone to step up. He pauses in the middle of the ring, lifting a hand to silence the jeers, his dominance on full display.
Backstage, Anderson continues to watch, his eyes narrowing as the sight of Asulf holding the title only seems to fuel his determination. The camera zooms in on Anderson’s face, capturing every nuance of his emotion—anticipation, resolve, and a burning desire to be the one who finally dethrones the Viking.
The camera cuts one final time to the ring, where Asulf smirks and taps the championship belt, sending a clear message to anyone watching, especially to the man watching backstage. He slowly raises the belt above his head once more, basking in his victory as the lights in the arena intensify, casting a spotlight on the champion.
As the screen alternates between Asulf’s celebration in the ring and Anderson’s intense stare backstage, the tension is palpable, setting the stage for the inevitable clash between these two titans. The scene fades to black, leaving the crowd buzzing with anticipation as DW Clash goes off the air.
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