sVo Seasons Beatings 2025
📺 Live on the Sanctioned Violence Network
📍 Goodfellas Casino Arena, Las Vegas, Nevada
📆 21st December 2025
The glittering Las Vegas Strip is a sea of neon, but tonight all eyes are on the Goodfellas Casino Arena. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of popcorn, expensive cigars, and the electric hum of five thousand fans who have packed the house for sVo Seasons Beatings 2025. The camera sweeps low over the ringside seats, catching a sea of handmade cardboard signs: “Martel = Money,” “Sterling’s Final Scene,” and “The Python Strikes Tonight.” The arena’s high-definition LED screens pulse with a countdown as the iconic sound of smooth jazz suddenly snaps into a high-octane heavy metal riff, signaling the start of the biggest night on the Sanctioned Violence calendar.
“Welcome everyone to the pinnacle of professional wrestling! We are live from the heart of Sin City for sVo Seasons Beatings!” Jeremiah Sloan’s voice booms over the roar of the crowd, sharp and authoritative. “I’m Jeremiah Sloan, and alongside me is a man who knows exactly what it’s like to spill blood in this arena, Julian Fiasco. Julian, the atmosphere is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
“You can say that again, Sloan,” Julian Fiasco replies, his eyes fixed on the ring where the gold of the sVo Championship is displayed on a velvet pedestal. “The Goodfellas Casino is usually a place where you lose your shirt, but tonight, reputations and gold are on the line. These fans aren’t just excited; they’re bloodthirsty. Look at that crowd! They know they’re about to witness history.”
“And what a card we have for you to close out 2025,” Sloan continues as the camera pans to a fan in a front-row seat wearing a “Blood Money” t-shirt, shouting at the lens. “In our main event, the sVo Championship is up for grabs as the charismatic Carlos Vasquez defends against the man who thinks the world is his movie set, ‘Hollywood’s Favorite Villain’ Alex Sterling. But before we get there, Julian, the International Heavyweight Championship is on the line as Japan’s own Masafumi Satake faces the ‘Texas Tyrant’ Colt Thompson!”
“That’s going to be a car crash, Jeremiah,” Fiasco adds with a smirk. “But don’t overlook that Las Vegas Championship four-way. Jason Martel has a mountain to climb against Bernard Wolfe, Dylan MacLeod, and the veteran CJ Dreamer. Plus, we’ve got the ‘Human Highlight Reel’ Kenneth D Williams taking on the ‘Unbreakable’ Angelo Anderson in a match that could steal the show.”
“And let’s not forget the gold in the tag team division,” Sloan notes as the camera catches the sVo Owner Jon Page watching from a private box, his expression icy and focused. “The SEC will have their hands full when they defend the sVo Tag Team Championships against the Blood Money Soldiers, Nicky Columbo and Junior Gambino. And in a grudge match months in the making, the ‘Spanish Ace’ Adam Garcia goes one-on-one with ‘The Bully’ Danny Domino!”
“It’s the most wonderful time of the year for everyone except the people getting in that ring,” Fiasco chuckles. “Seasons Beatings is officially underway!”
Backstage
The camera cuts backstage to the VIP parking entrance of the Goodfellas Casino Arena. A sleek, white sports car pulls to a stop, and out steps the reigning sVo Champion, Carlos “The Miami Maverick” Vasquez. He looks every bit the “South Beach Sensation,” draped in a designer suit that reflects his flashy Miami lifestyle, though his usual “suave” and “playboy” grin is replaced by a look of intense, cold determination.
Katie Smith, the sVo Lead Interviewer, quickly maneuvers through the concrete hallway, microphone in hand, trying to intercept the champion before he reaches the locker room area.
“Carlos! Carlos, a moment please!” Smith calls out, her reputation for “chasing the big scoops” on full display as she trots to keep pace with his brisk stride. “Tonight is the biggest defense of your career. Alex Sterling has called this match his ‘blockbuster performance.’ How are you feeling heading into the main event of Seasons Beatings?”
Vasquez doesn’t slow down. He keeps his eyes fixed forward, his jaw set, ignoring the “undeniable charm” he usually flaunts for the cameras. He adjusts the sVo Championship belt draped over his shoulder, the gold catching the flickering fluorescent lights of the arena’s underbelly.
“Katie, not now,” Vasquez says, his voice uncharacteristically sharp and devoid of his typical Suave persona. “Sterling wants to talk about scripts and sequels. I’m here to fight. I’ve got a locker room to get to and a title to keep. Save the questions for the post-match celebration.”
Vasquez stops for a fraction of a second at the door of the champion’s locker room, glancing back at Smith with a look that shows he is “living life to the fullest” only when he is winning. He offers a single, curt nod before disappearing inside and slamming the door shut, leaving the Lead Interviewer standing alone in the hallway.
“The champion is clearly locked in,” Jeremiah Sloan’s voice interjects from the broadcast booth. “I’ve never seen the ‘Sunshine Showstopper’ this focused, Julian. He knows Sterling is a shark.”
“He’d better be focused, Sloan,” Julian Fiasco replies. “In this business, if you stop to talk, you’re already losing.”
sVo Las Vegas Championship Match
Jason Martel (c) vs Bernard Wolfe vs Dylan MacLeod vs. CJ Dreamer
The lights in the Goodfellas Casino Arena dim as the opening riffs of “Roll the Dice” by Royal Deluxe blast through the speakers, and the hometown crowd erupts for Jason Martel. Martel, the “Ace of Vegas,” makes his way to the ring with a humble but confident stride, the Las Vegas Championship belt gleaming under the high-definition LED screens. Already in the ring are his three challengers: the stoic “Northern Fury” Dylan MacLeod, the grizzled veteran CJ Dreamer, and the “Wayward Traveller” Bernard Wolfe.
“This is what it’s all about, Julian! Four men, one goal, and the most prestigious midcard title in the industry on the line,” Jeremiah Sloan shouts over the “YEE-HAW” chants echoing from a few fans in the front row.
“Martel has the hometown advantage, Jeremiah, but look at the experience in there,” Julian Fiasco counters. “CJ Dreamer has been in this business since the early 2000s. He’s not here to be a stepping stone for these kids.”
The bell rings, and the action is instantaneous. MacLeod and Dreamer immediately pair off, with MacLeod driving the veteran into the corner with a series of stiff European uppercuts. Meanwhile, Martel and Wolfe trade fast-paced technical exchanges, Wolfe showing off that “American Strong Style” as he snaps Martel over with a lightning-fast armdrag.
The match spills to the outside early when Dreamer clotheslines MacLeod over the top rope. Inside the ring, Martel looks to capitalize, hitting a Slingshot Cutter on Wolfe for a two-count. Martel scales the turnbuckle, looking for the Vegas Jackpot, but Dreamer pulls him down by the leg, slamming the champion’s face into the ring apron.
“Dreamer is using every veteran trick in the book to keep the champion out of the equation!” Sloan exclaims.
Back in the ring, MacLeod takes control. He catches Wolfe with a thunderous Rocky Mountain Drop spinebuster that nearly puts Wolfe through the canvas. MacLeod lets out a rare roar of intensity, signaling for the end. He hoists Wolfe up for the Northern Lights Slam, but Dreamer slides back in, hitting a Lou Thesz press on MacLeod and raining down mounted punches.
The momentum shifts again as Martel re-enters the fray, clearing the ring with a Springboard Tornado DDT on Dreamer. The crowd is on its feet as Martel signals for the Vegas Jackpot again, but as he climbs, MacLeod meets him on the top rope, looking for a superplex.
While the champion and the “Northern Fury” battle on the high rent district, Bernard Wolfe—who had been recovering on the floor—slides back in. He sees the opening as Dreamer is dazed near the opposite corner. Wolfe charges, leaping through the air with incredible agility to catch MacLeod with a New Horizons pumphandle muscular bomb right off the turnbuckle, but MacLeod manages to kick out at two and nine-tenths.
“I thought we had a new champion right there! MacLeod is as tough as the Canadian Rockies!” Fiasco yells.
The finish comes in a flurry of chaos. Martel dives to the outside with a crossbody onto CJ Dreamer, taking both men out of the ring and over the barricade into the lap of some high-rollers. Inside the ring, Dylan MacLeod staggers to his feet, but Wolfe is already ascending the turnbuckle. Wolfe takes a deep breath, pushes off with immense force, and connects with a perfect, high-arching Homeward Bound Shooting Star Press squarely on MacLeod’s chest.
Wolfe hooks the leg as the referee counts: One! Two! Three!
“He did it! Bernard Wolfe has shocked the Ace of Vegas in his own backyard!” Sloan screams.
“Martel didn’t even lose this match, but he lost the gold,” Fiasco adds, pointing to Martel who is just now starting to stir among the fans at ringside. “That’s the cruelty of a four-way dance. Welcome to the era of the Wayward Traveller!”
Bernard Wolfe stands tall, clutching the Las Vegas Championship to his chest, his eyes showing the “cordial” but “violent” fire that has made him the talk of the indy circles.
Backstage
The camera transitions to the interview area, where Katie Smith stands with “The Bully” Danny Domino. Domino is already in his ring gear, sporting black trunks with white trim and his signature leather vest with “BULLY” scrawled across the back. He is leaned against a production crate, chewing gum with a sneer on his face and his fists already taped for the coming fight.
“I’m here with Danny Domino, who is moments away from a high-stakes encounter with Adam Garcia,” Katie says, maintaining her professional composure despite Domino’s intimidating presence. “Danny, Garcia is a former Ichiban Heavyweight Champion and a decorated martial artist. How do you plan to handle his ‘Strong Style’ tonight?”
Domino stops chewing for a second and lets out a dry, mocking laugh. “How am I gonna handle it? Katie, look at me. I’m 254 pounds of Staten Island grit. Garcia can bring all the ‘Strong Style’ and martial arts trophies he wants from Spain. At the end of the day, those are just fancy words for a guy who’s about to get his teeth kicked down his throat.”
He steps closer into Katie’s personal space, his “short fuse and big mouth” on full display. “He’s an ‘Ace’ in Spain, but in the sVo, he’s just another victim for ‘Double D’. I’m going to go out there, shut that crowd up, and show Garcia that a strong right hook beats a judo throw every single time. This isn’t a tournament, it’s a fight, and I’m the biggest bully in this building.”
Domino smirks at the camera, pats his taped fists, and walks off toward the curtain without waiting for a follow-up.
“Back to you at ringside,” Katie says, shaking her head as Domino disappears.
“Domino is as arrogant as they come, but he’s got the power to back up that big mouth, Julian,” Jeremiah Sloan remarks from the commentary table.
“He’s a street-fight specialist, Sloan,” Julian Fiasco adds. “Garcia is in for a long night if he thinks Domino is going to wrestle him clean.”
Single Match
Adam Garcia vs Danny Domino
The lights pulse red and yellow as “I’M NUMBER ONE” by YOUNG REALLOUD blares through the Goodfellas Casino Arena. Adam Garcia, the “Spanish Ace,” marches to the ring with the calculated intensity of a man who has already analyzed every one of his opponent’s weaknesses. He is followed shortly by Danny Domino, who emerges to the instrumental of “Ready for War,” sneering at the fans and mocking their boos as he adjusts his “BULLY” leather vest.
“Domino calls himself a bully, but Garcia was a national Judoka in Spain,” Jeremiah Sloan notes as the referee calls for the bell. “You can’t intimidate a man who has spent his life on the mats.”
The match begins with a brutal lockup, Domino immediately using his 254-pound frame to shove Garcia into the corner, delivering a series of slaps to the face to goad the Spaniard. Garcia doesn’t blink; he ducks a follow-up clothesline and retaliates with a stiff “Strong Style” forearm that echoes through the arena. Domino staggers, and Garcia immediately goes to work, hitting a Rolling Suplex that shows his technical background.
“Garcia is lighting him up! That European experience is on full display,” Julian Fiasco shouts.
The momentum shifts when Domino catches Garcia mid-air during a springboard attempt and drives him spine-first into the ring apron. Domino takes control, slowing the pace with deliberate, punishing strikes. He mocks the crowd, then turns his attention back to Garcia, hitting a Running Powerslam for a deep near-fall. Sensing the end, Domino sets up for the Domino Effect, but Garcia counters with a sudden Arm Drag, transitioning into a sequence of lightning-fast strikes.
“Near fall after near fall! This is a war of attrition!” Sloan exclaims.
Domino, growing desperate, attempts to bend the rules. As the referee is momentarily distracted by a loose turnbuckle pad, Domino delivers a blatant eye rake and follows up with a low blow. He quickly hooks the leg for a roll-up, grabbing Garcia’s tights for extra leverage. The referee counts—one, two—but Garcia miraculously kicks out, fueled by the “short-tempered” grit that propelled him to championships in Spain and Japan.
Domino is livid, screaming at the official. He charges for a final lariat, but Garcia ducks under the “Bully’s” arm. Garcia hits the El Cid (Running Angle Liger Bomb), planting Domino in the center of the ring. As Domino stumbles to his feet, dazed, Garcia grabs him for a back grapple, lifting him into the air and dropping him with the Destino Final (Vertical Blade Runner).
The referee counts the three, and the “Spanish Ace” stands victorious.
“Garcia survives the onslaught and the cheating!” Sloan yells as Garcia raises his hand to the cheering crowd. “The Ace has officially arrived in the sVo!”
Ringside
The final bell has barely stopped echoing, but the “Bully” is already in a state of absolute meltdown. As Adam Garcia backs up the entrance ramp, his arms raised to the cheering crowd, he looks back with a “calculated” smirk at the wreckage he left in the ring. Inside the squared circle, Danny Domino is on his feet, his face turning a deep shade of crimson as he bellows at the official.
“You saw the tights! I had him! That was a three-count, you blind hack!” Domino screams, his “short fuse” completely blown as he corners the referee against the turnbuckles. He’s looming over the official with his 254-pound frame, his taped fists clenched as if he’s ready to swing.
“Jeremiah, Domino is losing his mind!” Julian Fiasco exclaims. “He thinks he had that roll-up secured, but the referee saw him grabbing the handful of tights! You can’t blame the ref for doing his job.”
“He’s not just blaming him, Julian, he’s intimidating him!” Jeremiah Sloan shouts as Domino slams a massive hand against the top turnbuckle pad, inches from the referee’s head. “This is classic Domino—loud, arrogant, and cruel when things don’t go his way.”
Domino spins around, his “sneer” directed now at the fans in the front row who are jeering his loss. He kicks the bottom rope with a heavy black boot and then points a menacing finger back at Garcia on the ramp.
“This isn’t over, Garcia! You got lucky!” Domino yells, his voice cracking with rage as he continues to pace the ring like a caged animal. He chews his gum furiously, looking like he’s ready to tear the entire Goodfellas Casino Arena apart brick by brick.
“He’s a textbook heel who feeds off this hate, but right now, the hate is consuming him,” Sloan observes as Domino finally exits the ring, still jawing at every fan who dares to catch his eye.
Backstage
The camera shifts to the interview area where Katie Smith stands ready with the challenger.
“I am standing here with ‘The Lone Star’ Colt Thompson, who is just moments away from a massive opportunity at the International Heavyweight Championship,” Katie says, turning to the man beside her. “Colt, you and Masafumi Satake have a history that spans continents. Tonight, the gold is on the line right here in Las Vegas. What is your mindset heading into this battle?”
Colt Thompson, standing tall at 6’4”, adjusts his long leather coat and peers down at Katie with a cold, calculating sneer. He looks every bit the “Texas Tyrant,” his presence heavy with the arrogance of a man who plays only by his own rules.
“My mindset? My mindset is the same as it was in Osaka and the same as it was in the back-alleys of Dallas,” Thompson says, his voice dripping with southern charm and cutting arrogance. “Satake is a ‘dedicated professional,’ sure. He spends his time thinking about ‘leaving an impression on the business’. But while he’s worried about his legacy, I’m worried about dominance.”
He leans in closer, using the psychological warfare that has made him a “despised foreign heel” abroad. “Masafumi is in the ‘twilight of his career’. He’s ‘bittersweet’ about being back in America. That makes him weak, Katie. That makes him prey. Tonight, the ‘Lone Star’ doesn’t just rise; it crushes the spirit of a tired legend and takes that International Heavyweight Championship back to where it belongs”.
Thompson tips his cowboy hat mockingly at Smith and walks toward the entrance curtain with an “enigmatic” stride.
“Thompson is a predator in a cowboy hat, Jeremiah,” Julian Fiasco notes from the booth.
“He’s as ruthless as they come, Julian,” Jeremiah Sloan adds. “And Satake is going to need every bit of that ‘Strong Style’ to survive the night”.
International Heavyweight Championship Match
Masafumi Satake (c) vs Colt Thompson
The lights in the Goodfellas Casino Arena take on a gritty, amber hue as a heavy southern rock track, punctuated by the sound of galloping hooves and gunfire, fills the air. Out steps the “Texas Tyrant,” Colt Thompson, draped in a long leather coat and a cowboy hat, surveying the crowd with deep disdain. He is followed by the champion, Masafumi Satake, who enters to the aggressive punk of “Down the Drain”. Satake looks like a “bull of a human being,” his simple ring attire—white arm wraps and black dojo-style pants—contrasting with the flashy atmosphere of Las Vegas.
“This is a clash of cultures and styles, Julian,” Jeremiah Sloan says as the competitors stand mid-ring. “Satake brings that Japanese Strong Style, but Thompson is a lone gunslinger who doesn’t care about honor”.
“Honorer doesn’t pay the bills, Sloan,” Julian Fiasco retorts. “Thompson is here for dominance, and he’ll take it by any means necessary”.
The bell rings, and the two heavyweights collide in a thunderous lockup. Satake, despite being in the “twilight of his career,” shows no signs of slowing down, rocking Thompson with a Roaring Elbow that sends the challenger reeling into the ropes. Satake follows up with a series of stiff kicks and a Northern Lights Suplex for an early two-count.
Thompson, the “Outlaw of Osaka,” shifts the momentum by lures Satake into a brawl on the outside. He uses his “explosive strength” to hoist Satake up and drive him spine-first into the steel ring post. Back in the ring, Thompson takes control, utilizing “hard-hitting strikes” and “punishing slams” to wear the champion down. He catches Satake with a massive Texas Slam spinebuster, but the champion kicks out at two.
“Satake is showing that legendary heart, but Thompson is a predator!” Sloan exclaims.
The tide turns when Satake catches Thompson with a sudden Lariat that turns the “Texas Tyrant” inside out. The champion ascends the turnbuckle, looking for the Heart Attack bulldog lariat, but Thompson manages to shove the referee into the ropes, crotching Satake on the top turnbuckle.
As the referee stumbles, Thompson reaches into the pocket of his discarded leather coat near the corner and pulls out a heavy, brass-knuckled fist. While the official is still regaining his footing, Thompson delivers a “merciless” strike to Satake’s jaw. The champion collapses to the mat, unconscious. Thompson quickly hides the evidence and hoists the limp Satake onto his shoulders for the Lone Star Lock, transitioning it into a crushing slam for the cover.
The referee counts: One! Two! Three!
“We have a new champion, and he stole it!” Sloan screams in outrage. “Thompson just cheated a legend out of his title!”
“It’s called being smart, Sloan!” Fiasco shouts. “Colt Thompson played the referee and the champion. He’s the new International Heavyweight Champion, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it!”
Thompson stands tall over the fallen Satake, clutching the gold and sneering at the fans who are showering him with “consistent heat” and chants of “coward”.
Backstage
The camera cuts to the Blood Money locker room, where the air is thick with tension and the smell of gym chalk. Nicky Columbo, the “Sicilian Enforcer,” is methodically wrapping his massive 255-pound hands, his piercing stare fixed on the wall. Beside him, Junior Gambino is pacing like a caged animal, the “Young Gun” checking his gold chains in the mirror and adjusting his sharp, black-and-gold ring gear with a cocky smirk.
The door swings open and sVo Owner Jon Page steps inside, his face etched with a rare look of grim focus. The room goes quiet as the “Blood Money Soldiers” stop their warm-ups to acknowledge the boss.
“I’m here because I want to make sure you two understand the stakes tonight,” Page says, his voice low but carrying an edge of cold fury. “A few months ago, Brice Brantley and the SEC crossed a line when they put their hands on my sister, Amy. They embarrassed the sVo COO, and by extension, they embarrassed the Page family. You take those Tag Team Championships off them tonight, and I can promise you that Blood Money will be on my very best side for a long, long time”.
Junior Gambino lets out a sharp laugh, ready to “jaw with the fans” and the boss alike. “We’re gonna treat ’em like a street-side hit, Jon. Those belts are as good as ours”.
Suddenly, the massive frame of Joe Barone looms out of the shadows in the corner. The “Problem Solver” stands up, his suspenders tight over his muscle shirt and his arms—the “silent trigger” of the faction—folded across his chest. He steps into the light, his cold, ruthless eyes meeting Page’s.
“That sounds like a lot of ‘goodwill’ and not enough business, Jon,” Barone says, his voice a gravelly rumble. “My boys here are going to do the job. They’re going to leave the SEC in the gutter. But loyalty like that comes with a price.”
Barone leans in, the “Enforcer” taking a rare moment to speak for himself. “You give me a guaranteed future shot at the sVo Championship, and I’ll personally make sure those two don’t just win—I’ll make sure Brantley and his suits never want to step foot in the Goodfellas Casino Arena ever again”.
Jon Page looks from the towering Barone to the eager “Blood Money Soldiers”. He extends a hand toward the man he knows as the “Silent Trigger”.
“You bring those titles back to the family tonight, Joe… and you’ve got yourself a deal,” Page replies firmly.
Barone offers a single, sharp nod—the “code of silence” back in effect—as Page exits the room.
Single Match
Kenneth D Williams vs Angelo Anderson
The lights in the Goodfellas Casino Arena shift to a sharp, clinical white as the booming bass of “God of the Underground” by Fever 333 hits the sound system. Out steps the “Dynasty Destroyer” Angelo Anderson, a massive 271-pound tower of muscle with a shaved head and a look of icy, total self-assurance. He marches to the ring in his black and silver gear, his every step feeling like a threat to the thousands in attendance.
“This man doesn’t just want to win, Julian; he wants to dismantle the very foundation of the sVo,” Jeremiah Sloan says as the crowd greets Anderson with a mixture of loud boos and intimidated silence.
The mood shifts instantly as “Family Ties” by Baby Keem & Kendrick Lamar blares, and Kenneth D. Williams, the “Human Highlight Reel,” explodes onto the entrance ramp. The former sVo Las Vegas Champion is a bundle of high-flying energy, slapping hands with fans and looking to smoke the competition as the hometown favorite.
“Ken is an elite-level flyer, but he’s never stepped into the ring with a monster like Anderson,” Julian Fiasco warns.
The bell rings, and Williams immediately attempts to use his speed, darting around the ring and peppering the larger man with quick strikes. However, the “Unbreakable” one remains unmoved. As Williams springs off the ropes for a crossbody, Anderson catches him mid-air with horrifying ease and drives him into the turnbuckle with a bone-shattering corner avalanche.
“Total dominance from the start!” Sloan shouts as Anderson begins a methodical beatdown.
Anderson utilizes a brutal, power-based style, slowing the pace to a crawl and punishing Williams with a deadlift vertical suplex that holds the high-flyer in the air for ten seconds before crashing him down. Williams tries to find an opening, landing a desperate spinning heel kick, but Anderson doesn’t even leave his feet. Instead, Anderson catches a second kick attempt and transitions it directly into a spine-rattling lariat that nearly turns Williams inside out.
“Anderson is treating a former champion like a rookie!” Fiasco exclaims as the crowd watches in stunned awe.
Sensing the end, Anderson stalks his prey with a quiet, menacing conviction. He hoists the 225-pound Williams into the air, holding him high above his head before planting him with the “Unbroken” elevated sit-out powerbomb. Anderson doesn’t even hook the leg; he simply stares into the camera with cold focus as the referee counts the three.
“The world just stopped spinning, Julian! Angelo Anderson has just humiliated Kenneth D. Williams!” Sloan screams.
Anderson stands over the fallen “Highlight Reel,” looking down at him with nothing but disdain as the arena echoes with the sounds of a dominant new force in the sVo.
Backstage
The camera cuts to the interview stage, where the gold-accented “LA Luminary” gear of Alex Sterling shimmer under the studio lights. He stands with a pair of designer sunglasses on, a smug smirk firmly in place as Katie Smith holds the microphone.
“I am joined now by the challenger for tonight’s main event, ‘Hollywood’s Favorite Villain’ Alex Sterling,” Katie begins, her tone “tough and fair”. “Alex, the sVo Championship is the most prestigious prize in this company. You’ve called this match your ‘blockbuster performance,’ but Carlos Vasquez looked incredibly focused when he arrived earlier tonight. Are you prepared for the ‘Miami Maverick’?”.
Sterling slowly removes his sunglasses, revealing “piercing blue eyes” as he looks directly into the lens, effectively breaking the fourth wall.
“Katie, darling, you’re talking about ‘focus’ like this is a sport. This isn’t a sport; it’s a production, and tonight, I am the lead, the director, and the executive producer,” Sterling says, his voice dripping with “theatrical” arrogance. “Carlos is a great ‘extra.’ He’s got the tan, he’s got the flashy car, but he lacks the ‘Box Office Gold’ that I carry in my DNA”.
He strikes a “fake Oscar-acceptance pose” before continuing.
“Tonight isn’t just a title match; it’s the series finale for Vasquez’s reign. He’s going to bring his high-flying ‘Miami flair,’ but he’s walking into a script he didn’t write. By the time the credits roll, the world will be looking at the new sVo Champion and the greatest star to ever grace this ‘Goodfellas’ stage”.
Sterling leans into the microphone for one final line, his “model-like face” fixed in a cold sneer.
“Carlos, I hope you’re ready for your close-up, because tonight… that’s a wrap”.
“Back to you, Jeremiah,” Katie says as Sterling bows dramatically and struts away.
“Sterling is insufferable, Sloan, but you can’t deny the ‘Box Office Smash’ has finished many careers,” Julian Fiasco admits.
“He’s obsessed with the spotlight, Julian, but Vasquez is a champion for a reason,” Jeremiah Sloan counters. “We are headed for a blockbuster main event!”
sVo Tag Team Championship Match
The SEC (c) vs Blood Money Soldiers
The atmosphere in the Goodfellas Casino Arena turns hostile as the southern rock of the SEC echoes through the rafters. Gator Bates and the Alabama Kid march to the ring with a swagger that has defined their havoc-filled tenure since arriving from XPRO, flanked by their mastermind, Brice Brantley. They are met with a wall of sound as “The Blood Money Soldiers,” Junior Gambino and Nicky Columbo, emerge alongside the “Problem Solver,” Joe Barone.
“This isn’t just a match for the sVo Tag Team Championships; this is about Jon Page’s revenge against Brice Brantley and his SEC,” Jeremiah Sloan says, his voice tense. “The Blood Money family is here to collect a debt for the Page family.”
“Look at the size of Nicky Columbo, Sloan,” Julian Fiasco points out. “The ‘Sicilian Enforcer’ doesn’t care about XPRO reputations. He’s here to break bones”.
The bell rings and the Blood Money Soldiers immediately showcase their “mafia-inspired” brutality. Columbo uses his 6’4″ frame to cut the ring in half, trapping Gator Bates in the corner with repeated clotheslines and a massive spinebuster. He tags in Junior Gambino, who utilizes his “quick technical ability” to wear down Bates’s joints, mocking the southern wrestlers with every snap suplex.
The SEC manages to turn the tide when the Alabama Kid catches Gambino with a cheap shot while the referee is distracted by Brantley’s shouting. The champions utilize quick tags and “havoc-causing” double-team maneuvers to isolate the younger Gambino. However, Gambino’s “fearless” nature allows him to tag in the powerhouse Columbo, who clears the ring with a flurry of lariats and a high-angle “Cement Shoes” powerbomb on the Alabama Kid.
“Columbo is going for the cover! We’re going to have new champions!” Sloan screams as the referee counts. One! Two!—Gator Bates dives in to break the count at the last millisecond.
Chaos erupts as all four men trade strikes in the center of the ring. Joe Barone looms at ringside, preventing Brice Brantley from interfering, looking ready to enforce the “deal” he made with Jon Page. Columbo hoists the Alabama Kid up for another powerbomb while Gambino ascends the turnbuckle for a diving strike to finish it.
Suddenly, a hooded figure vaults the guardrail, bypassing security with terrifying speed. He slides into the ring and levels Nicky Columbo with a thunderous lariat that nearly takes his head off. The stranger pulls back his hood to reveal the grizzled, intense face of Mark Hendry, the former XPRO World Champion.
“Is that… that’s Mark Hendry! The fourth man of the SEC from XPRO!” Sloan bellows in disbelief.
While the referee is trying to regain control, Hendry catches Junior Gambino mid-air and plants him with a devastating sidewalk slam. He tosses the Alabama Kid on top of the dazed Gambino. The official, seeing the legal man on top, makes the count: One! Two! Three!
“The SEC retain! Mark Hendry has arrived in sVo to ensure the SEC’s dominance continues!” Fiasco shouts over the deafening boos of the Las Vegas crowd.
The SEC, now joined by Hendry and Brantley, stand over the fallen Blood Money Soldiers, clutching their sVo Tag Team Championships as Joe Barone glares from the floor, his guaranteed title shot now feeling like a hollow consolation for the loss.
Backstage
The camera cuts high above the Goodfellas Casino Arena to the owner’s private skybox. Jon Page stands at the floor-to-ceiling glass, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated rage as he looks down at the ring where Mark Hendry and the SEC are celebrating their tainted victory. In his hand, he grips a glass of expensive bourbon, his knuckles white with tension. As the SEC continues to gloat over the fallen Blood Money Soldiers, Page’s temper finally snaps; he hurls the glass across the room, where it shatters against the back wall, spilling liquid and ice across the plush carpeting.
“Jon Page is absolutely livid! He made a deal with the devil in Joe Barone to protect his sister’s honor, and it just blew up in his face,” Jeremiah Sloan says, his voice hushed as the camera remains on the owner.
Page doesn’t even look at the mess. He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out his iPhone with trembling hands. He aggressively taps the screen and holds the phone to his ear, pacing the length of the skybox like a predator. While the arena microphones can’t pick up the audio through the thick glass, the intensity on his face is unmistakable. He is shouting into the receiver, his free hand gesturing wildly toward the ring, his eyes locked on Brice Brantley.
“I don’t need a microphone to tell you that someone’s head is on the chopping block,” Julian Fiasco remarks, watching the owner’s animated fury. “Page isn’t calling to order room service. He’s calling for reinforcements, or maybe he’s calling for an execution. Either way, the SEC’s party is going to be short-lived.”
Page ends the call with a violent swipe of his thumb and stares back down at the arena floor, a cold, calculating smirk beginning to replace his rage. He knows that while the SEC may have won the battle, the war for sVo dominance has just taken a very dark turn.
Backstage
The camera pans to a quiet corner of the backstage area where Katie Smith stands with the now-former International Heavyweight Champion, Masafumi Satake. The veteran looks every bit the “bull of a human being”, though a distinct scar near his left eye seems to pulse with frustration as he clutches a towel around his neck.
“I’m here with Masafumi Satake following a controversial loss tonight,” Katie says, her tone sympathetic. “Masafumi, you were seconds away from victory before Colt Thompson resorted to underhanded tactics. What is your reaction to losing the title in such a manner?”
Satake takes a deep breath, his “calm and dedicated” professional demeanor holding steady despite the “mixed emotions” of his return to America. “Thompson is strong man, and he knows this business,” Satake says, his voice low and steady. “But a man who cannot win without iron in his hand is a man who fears the ‘Strong Style’. I respect the title, but I cannot respect the way he—”
“Respect? Is that what we’re calling it, Satake?”
The “Texas Tyrant” Colt Thompson saunters into the frame, the International Heavyweight Championship draped over his shoulder. He still wears his cowboy hat, tilted back with a “calculating and ruthless” sneer as he stares down the veteran.
“You’re in the ‘twilight of your career,’ old man,” Thompson taunts, mocking Satake’s legendary status. “You wanted to leave an ‘everlasting impression’? Well, look at the gold. The only impression being made tonight is the one I left on your chin. The ‘Lone Star’ is the only law in this company now”.
Satake’s stoic expression breaks as he drops the towel, his eyes flashing with the fire that has fueled his twenty-year career. “You are no outlaw, Thompson. You are a thief”.
Thompson laughs, a cold, “unapologetic” sound, and shoves the championship belt into Satake’s chest. Satake doesn’t hesitate; he deflects the belt and lands a “stiff strike” to Thompson’s jaw. The two heavyweights immediately collide, Thompson swinging a wild “Outlaw Strike” while Satake attempts to lock in a “Cobra Clutch”.
“Security! We need security over here now!” Katie Smith screams, pulling back as the two rivals crash into a stack of production crates, scattering equipment across the floor.
“They’re tearing the backstage area apart!” Jeremiah Sloan’s voice booms over the broadcast as the screen flickers with the chaos of the brawl.
sVo Championship Match
Carlos Vasquez (c) vs Alex Sterling
The atmosphere inside the Goodfellas Casino Arena reaches a fever pitch as the lights dim for the evening’s “blockbuster” finale. The dramatic orchestral intro of “Lights, Camera, Action” by Royal Deluxe fills the room, and Alex Sterling emerges to nuclear-level boos. He pauses at the top of the ramp to strike a fake Oscar-acceptance pose, his gold-accented ring gear shimmering under the spotlights as he removes his designer sunglasses with theatrical flair.
“Sterling is treating this like a red-carpet premiere, Sloan, but he’s about to find out that Carlos Vasquez is no script-reader,” Julian Fiasco says as the champion’s music hits.
“Welcome to Miami” by Will Smith blasts through the speakers, and the crowd goes wild as the “South Beach Sensation,” Carlos Vasquez, makes his entrance. The sVo Champion looks locked in, his usual suave playboy persona replaced by the cold determination of a man fighting for his legacy.
The bell rings, and Sterling immediately begins the psychological warfare, shouting film quotes and faking an early injury to draw Vasquez in. When Vasquez approaches, Sterling snaps into action with a thumb to the eye and a “Hollywood Backbreaker,” bowing to the camera mid-move.
“Sterling is a master of misdirection, but Vasquez’s agility is unparalleled!” Jeremiah Sloan exclaims as the champion recovers with an “Ocean Drive DDT,” spiking Sterling into the mat.
The match becomes a breathtaking display of finesse versus theatrics. Vasquez executes a picture-perfect “Beach Body Drop” from the top rope, but Sterling rolls through and catches the champion with a slingshot DDT for a near-fall that has the fans on the edge of their seats. Sterling, desperate to “steal the scene,” attempts his “Box Office Smash” neckbreaker, shouting “That’s a wrap!” before the execution.
Vasquez counters mid-air, landing on his feet and connecting with a lightning-fast “Miami Vice Kick” that sends Sterling reeling toward the ropes. The “Miami Maverick” doesn’t let up; he drags Sterling to the center of the ring, but Sterling grabs the referee’s shirt, pulling the official into the line of fire to create an opening.
“He’ll do anything to win! Sterling is trying to rewrite the ending of this match!” Sloan shouts as Sterling reaches for a handful of tights during a schoolboy roll-up.
The referee catches the cheating attempt, forcing a break. Sterling argues furiously, giving Vasquez the split-second he needs. Vasquez springs off the ropes, catching Sterling with a devastating acrobatic maneuver and pinning the “LA Luminary” to the mat as the referee counts three.
“Carlos Vasquez has retained! The credits are rolling on Sterling’s championship dreams!” Sloan bellows over the roar of the crowd.
Vasquez stands tall, the sVo Championship held high as the “legendary energy” of the Goodfellas Casino Arena explodes in celebration. The “Sunshine Showstopper” has survived the “blockbuster” challenge, ending the year 2025 at the top of the mountain.
Ringside
The final bell has stopped echoing, but the “Miami Maverick” is only just getting started with his celebration. Carlos Vasquez stands in the center of the ring, the sVo Championship held high as the “iconic sounds” of the Goodfellas Casino Arena are drowned out by a deafening roar of approval from the Las Vegas crowd. Under the brilliant glow of the high-definition LED screens , Vasquez looks every bit the “South Beach Sensation” , his face glistening with sweat and the pride of a hard-earned victory.
Near the turnbuckles, a battered Alex Sterling is slowly pulling himself up to his feet using the ropes. The “LA Luminary” looks disheveled, his styled blonde hair messy and his “model-like face” twisted in a mask of pure, “theatrical” fury. He stares at the gold he was so certain he would “capture” as his “blockbuster performance” has officially ended in a “cut” he didn’t authorize.
Vasquez stops his celebration and looks at the challenger. In a moment of genuine respect—balancing his “confidence with humility” —the champion steps forward and extends his hand to the “Hollywood Favorite Villain”.
“Jeremiah, look at this. The ‘Miami Maverick’ is offering the olive branch,” Sloan says, his voice hushed. “After everything Sterling said and did tonight, Vasquez is showing the heart of a true champion.”
Sterling looks down at the hand, then back up at Vasquez. The “arrogant and smug” star hesitates for several long seconds, his chest heaving as he contemplates the gesture. For a fleeting moment, it looks like he might accept, but the “smug” mask returns. With a sudden, sharp motion, Sterling slaps the hand away with a resounding crack and storms out of the ring, ignoring the “boos, eye rolls, and groans” of the fans as he disappears toward the back.
Vasquez simply shrugs his shoulders, his “charismatic” smile returning as he turns back to the crowd, refusing to let Sterling’s “nuclear-level arrogance” ruin the moment.
However, as the “Sunshine Showstopper” climbs the turnbuckle to hoist the title one last time, the camera begins to scan the arena. In the shadows of the North Entrance, “The Spanish Ace” Adam Garcia stands with his arms crossed, his “calculated” and “intelligent” eyes fixed firmly on the champion, likely analyzing Vasquez just as he does his opponents.
Across the arena in a private VIP box, the “Dynasty Destroyer” Angelo Anderson looms like a silent storm. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t cheer; he simply watches with “icy calm and total self-assurance”. After “shocking the world” and “humiliating” his competition tonight , Anderson looks at the sVo Championship not as a prize, but as proof of a “superiority” he is ready to take by force.
“The credits may be rolling on 2025, Julian, but the ‘Season of Beatings’ might just be the beginning of a very dangerous 2026 for Carlos Vasquez,” Sloan observes as the screen fades to black.
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