sVo Showdown 243
📺 Live on the Sanctioned Violence Network
📍 Goodfellas Casino Arena, Las Vegas, Nevada
📆 5th October 2025
Live from the Goodfellas Casino Arena in Las Vegas, Nevada! The lights are flashing gold and red, illuminating the iconic marquee. The crowd is electric inside the architectural marvel that seamlessly blends comfort and technology.
The cameras pan over the commentary table as the opening pyro explodes above the ring, sending plumes of smoke across the venue.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: Welcome to Showdown 243, live here from the legendary Goodfellas Casino Arena! I’m Jeremiah Sloan, and alongside me is the former Hostility Wrestling Champion, Julian Fiasco. Julian, we are only three weeks away from Ultimate Victory 2025, and tonight is loaded with matches that will shape that card!
JULIAN FIASCO: That’s right, Sloan, and I’m ready for the fireworks. Tonight, we’ve got a massive tag team main event where the four remaining Victory Cup competitors are being forced to team up, and I can’t wait to see how that unholy alliance implodes! As someone who appreciated winning by any means necessary, I’m interested to see who plays the game and who plays the fool.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: We’ve got Victory Cup matches, Blood Money in action, and the rugged ‘Northern Fury’ Dylan MacLeod facing the sinister ‘Python’ Noah Rogan. It’s going to be a night of unpredictable violence, but first, we kick things off with a familiar face.
The house lights dim as the opening guitar riff of Van Halen’s “Jump” hits the sound system. The crowd gives a warm, positive cheer.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: Here he is, the perennial underdog, Marty Murdoch! This young man is absolutely ecstatic just to be a professional wrestler.
JULIAN FIASCO: Look at him, Sloan. He’s bouncing around like a kid who won a golden ticket. The kid is all heart, I’ll give him that, but he’s got a basic, limited moveset, and that super-optimism doesn’t win matches against the professionals in this business.
Marty Murdoch, wearing plain gear, sprints down the ramp, high-fiving as many fans as he can, his face beaming with enthusiasm. He slides into the ring, runs to the corner, and waves wildly to the arena.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: He’s a fanatic, Julian, and the fans adore his never-say-die attitude. They call him ‘Miracle’ for a reason!
JULIAN FIASCO: I call him ‘Under-sized and Under-skilled’. Let’s see if he can pull off another miracle against the dangerous Brice Brantley.
Single Match
Brice Brantley vs. Marty Murdoch
The arena darkens once more. A low, driving electronic beat begins, overlaid with a synthesized, mechanical pulse. The giant screen above the ring flashes an intricate, neon-blue geometric pattern. A popular, confident roar goes up for the second competitor.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: And here comes the man who has taken the sVo by storm since his arrival just a few months ago, the former X-Pro standout, Brice Brantley!
JULIAN FIASCO: This is a professional, Sloan. Look at the focus in his eyes. Brantley doesn’t waste motion, and he doesn’t waste time. He is a technical machine, and if Marty Murdoch wants to hug his way to victory, he’s going to get a rude awakening from the ‘Blue Collar Technician’.
Brice Brantley, dressed in sleek black and blue trunks, walks with purpose down the ramp, nodding curtly to the fans but never breaking his intense focus on the ring. He steps onto the apron, stares down Marty Murdoch, and smoothly glides under the top rope, immediately settling into his corner.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: The bell rings, and here we go! Murdoch charges immediately, offering a handshake, but Brantley ignores it, dropping low and locking up with a textbook collar-and-elbow tie-up.
JULIAN FIASCO: Amateur hour is over, Marty.
Brantley uses his superior leverage to muscle Murdoch backwards, trapping him in the corner before the referee, Brett Lukas, forces the break. Brantley immediately shoves Murdoch off with a condescending sneer.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: Brantley showing a real mean streak right out of the gate!
Murdoch comes out swinging, ducking a Brantley clothesline and hitting a quick dropkick that sends Brantley staggering back! Marty capitalizes with a snappy arm drag, followed by a second one that spins Brantley to the mat!
JULIAN FIASCO: See that? He can do the basics, but he’s already burning energy. Brantley is playing the long game.
Murdoch attempts a quick cover, only a one-count. He tries to lock in a headlock, but Brantley is already slippery, using his hips to flip himself over, then seamlessly rolling through into a side headlock takedown of his own. The pace slows instantly.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: Look at the difference in styles. Murdoch is all adrenaline, but Brantley is all pressure. He is cinching in that headlock tight.
Marty struggles to his feet, fighting through the pain, and manages to whip Brantley into the ropes. Brantley ducks a clothesline, hits the far ropes, and on the rebound, he levels Murdoch with a vicious thrusting shoulder tackle that turns Murdoch inside out!
JULIAN FIASCO: Textbook. Perfect counter. The lights are off for Marty Murdoch.
Brantley doesn’t go for a cover. Instead, he coolly steps over Murdoch, grabbing his arm and wrenching it back. He drives his knee into the shoulder socket, working a precise joint manipulation. Murdoch screams in pain.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: He is systematically breaking down the ‘Miracle’! This is why Brantley is so dangerous; he turns every match into a clinic.
Brantley hits a beautiful, arching Snap Suplex, spiking Murdoch mid-ring for a near fall. Two-count only! Frustration flashes across Brantley’s face for the first time. He immediately goes back to the shoulder, transitioning into an elevated hammerlock.
Murdoch, fueled by sheer desperation and the roar of the crowd, starts kicking wildly, finally rolling to his knees and slamming his free elbow into Brantley’s ribs. Brantley winces, releasing the hold!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: That’s the heart of Marty Murdoch! He will not quit!
Murdoch runs the ropes, and leaps for a flying crossbody, but Brantley ducks underneath, catching Marty’s legs and instantly spinning him around and down into a devastating, modified Indian Deathlock.
JULIAN FIASCO: Game. Over. This is a technical masterclass. Murdoch’s leg is going to snap!
Murdoch crawls towards the ropes, his face contorted in agony. He stretches his arm, fingers outstretched, barely making contact with the bottom rope. Referee Lukas forces the break at the absolute last second!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: He got there! Marty Murdoch lives to fight another minute!
Brantley, visibly annoyed, pulls Murdoch to his feet. He signals for his finish, lifting Marty for a devastating Piledriver! But Murdoch slips out the back, landing on his feet! He shoves Brantley forward, runs to the ropes, and comes charging back with a desperate Tornado DDT attempt!
Brantley catches him! Mid-rotation, Brantley stops the DDT, drops low, and instantly transitions, wrapping his arms around Murdoch’s waist and legs, pinning him down in a Bridging O’Connor Roll Pin! The weight of Brantley’s body is crushing, and the technical hold is inescapable!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: Oh no! Brantley caught him in the flash pin! One… two… THREE!
Bell rings!
JULIAN FIASCO: And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the difference between an athlete and an amateur. Brice Brantley takes the win with a phenomenal, clinical, last-second counter! He is focused on Ultimate Victory, and Marty Murdoch was just a quick tune-up.
Brice Brantley rolls off Murdoch, looking pleased but not overly celebratory. He raises his arm to the respectful boos and cheers, his victory clean and definitive. Marty Murdoch sits up, shaking his head, rubbing his shoulder, the look of disappointment heavy on his face.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: A hard-fought match, but the technical mastery of Brice Brantley was simply too much for the heart of Marty Murdoch. A huge win for Brantley here tonight on Showdown!
Backstage
The feed cuts away from the ring to a dimly lit, narrow backstage corridor. The heavy, rhythmic thud of the arena music is a distant echo here. JOE BARONE is leaning against a cinder block wall, clad in a sharp black suit, nursing a tumbler of dark liquid. His posture is rigid, his eyes fixed on a point in the middle distance, replaying the Victory Cup elimination.
NICKY COLUMBO and JUNIOR GAMBINO, the Blood Money Soldiers, enter the frame, looking confident and dangerous in their ring gear. They stop short of their boss, sensing the cold fury radiating off him.
NICKY COLUMBO: Still dwelling on that fluke roll-up, Joe?
JOE BARONE: (Without turning his head, his voice a low, gravelly rasp) Every second, Nicky. I can feel that little punk Danny Domino’s hand on my chest. That tournament was mine. The guaranteed shot was mine. And that smiling idiot took it away with pure luck. Luck runs out.
JUNIOR GAMBINO: (Stepping closer, his voice firm) That’s not what we’re focused on right now, boss. Domino is a minor nuisance. We got a much better kind of violence planned for you, the kind that cleanses the soul.
NICKY COLUMBO: That’s right. You look too focused on the past. We’re here to show you the present, Joe. The present is us, and the present is pain for The Malones.
JUNIOR GAMBINO: Those two, they’re just punching bags. We’re not going to win tonight, Joe. We’re going to perform an execution. We’re going to use them to send a message to every other team in the sVo. We are going to destroy them so systematically, so completely, that you won’t even remember Danny Domino’s name by the time we get back here.
Junior cracks his knuckles, the sound sharp in the quiet hallway. Nicky spits dismissively onto the concrete floor.
JOE BARONE: (A slow, cold smile finally spreads across his face, the anger replaced by a predatory satisfaction) You boys are right. Domino is a pest I deal with later. The Malones… they are therapy. Go show them what happens when you cross the Family. Make this an example. Send the message, Soldiers.
JUNIOR GAMBINO: Consider it delivered.
The two Soldiers nod sharply to Barone, turning on their heels and walking with purpose toward the curtain. The camera lingers on Barone, who raises the tumbler to his lips, the intensity in his eyes suggesting that the night has just begun.
Tag Team Match
The Blood Money Soldiers vs. The Malones
The heavy, driving horns of The Malones’ theme music hit the speakers, and the crowd in the Goodfellas Casino Arena comes alive, anticipating the action. The International Tag Team Champions are popular fan favourites.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: If Blood Money thinks they’re going to walk into this match and collect an easy win, they’ve got another thing coming! Here come the International Tag Team Champions, The Malones—Money and Frankie!
JULIAN FIASCO: Non-title match, Sloan. Doesn’t mean a thing. And frankly, those titles they carry around are about as significant as Marty Murdoch’s win-loss record. Tonight, they face two actual men who are here to inflict pain, not run a popularity contest.
Money Malone and Frankie Malone, wearing matching green and white gear, hit the ring. They are high-fiving fans and look energized, their belts proudly slung over their shoulders before being handed to the referee, Brett Lukas, to hold outside the ring.
The music abruptly cuts off, replaced by the dark, menacing tones of the Blood Money Soldiers’ theme. Junior Gambinoand Nicky Columbo stride out, their faces set in expressions of cold confidence, flanked by the recently defeated Joe Barone, who watches from the top of the ramp.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: The Blood Money Soldiers, Junior Gambino and Nicky Columbo, with Joe Barone overseeing the action. This team is purely focused on gold and gaining favour with their boss.
JULIAN FIASCO: Focus wins matches, Sloan. Look at Barone—he’s demanding perfection from his Soldiers. That intensity is going to run right over those two clowns in the ring.
The bell rings. Money Malone starts for the champions, with Junior Gambino for the Soldiers. They circle each other warily. Money starts with a lightning-fast Series of European Uppercuts, backing Junior into the corner!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: Money Malone, setting the pace early, taking the fight right to Gambino!
Money whips Junior across the ring, but Junior reverses, attempting a back elbow. Money ducks, runs up the turnbuckles, and hits a spinning Tornado DDT! He covers immediately! One! Two! Gambino kicks out!
JULIAN FIASCO: Textbook move, but not enough to put away a Soldier! Gambino knows what’s coming, and he knows how to endure!
Money tags in Frankie Malone. They hit a quick double-team Double Axe Handle to the back of Junior Gambino, followed by a Double Running Elbow in the corner. Frankie hooks the leg! One! Two! Kick out!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: Frankie and Money working together like a well-oiled machine! This is why they are the International Tag Team Champions!
Gambino, selling the pain, scrambles to his corner and makes the frantic tag to Nicky Columbo. Columbo enters the ring, immediately cheap-shotting Money Malone on the apron with a stiff forearm, then turning his attention to Frankie.
JULIAN FIASCO: The advantage shifts! Columbo isolating the target—that’s the Blood Money way!
Columbo and Frankie exchange vicious chops in the centre of the ring, but Columbo gets the better of the exchange, dropping Frankie with a sharp Running Knee Strike to the chest! Columbo drags Frankie back to their corner and begins a systematic beatdown, tagging in Junior Gambino for short, impactful bursts of offense.
The Blood Money Soldiers execute a picture-perfect double-team sequence: Junior holds Frankie Malone in a Wheelbarrow position, allowing Nicky Columbo to run and hit a Superkick to the exposed midsection!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: This is what Joe Barone demanded! They are punishing Frankie Malone!
Junior covers! One! Two! Frankie gets a shoulder up just in time, fueled by the energy of the crowd!
JULIAN FIASCO: Good effort, but they have completely cut the ring in half. Frankie is trapped and is absorbing all the damage.
Columbo is tagged back in. He attempts a power move, lifting Frankie for a Death Valley Driver, but Frankie counters mid-air, slipping out and hitting a desperation Hurricanrana that sends Columbo tumbling into the corner! Frankie slowly crawls—a desperate need for the tag!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: The chance! Frankie is reaching! Get to your partner!
As Frankie dives for the tag, Junior Gambino, from the outside, subtly grabs Money Malone’s foot and yanks him hard off the apron! The crowd boos in disgust! Frankie hits nothing but turnbuckle!
JULIAN FIASCO: Clever! A little underhanded, but completely effective! Barone taught them well!
Junior quickly slides into the ring, and the two Soldiers grab Frankie Malone. They lift him up onto their shoulders, facing the hard canvas, and drive him down with their devastating team finisher, the “Blood Money Drop”—a vicious Double Aided Electric Chair Drop!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: NO! The Blood Money Drop! That’s it!
Nicky Columbo hooks the leg! Referee Brett Lukas drops to count! ONE! TWO! THREE!
Bell rings!
JULIAN FIASCO: They did it! The Blood Money Soldiers secure the victory! They absolutely dominated the champions in a non-title showcase! Joe Barone is beaming at the top of the ramp! Message sent!
Junior Gambino and Nicky Columbo stand over the downed champion, raising their arms high in victory as Joe Barone applauds them from the stage, a satisfied snarl on his face. The Malones are beaten and embarrassed in the centre of the ring.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: A huge, momentum-shifting win for the Blood Money Soldiers, sending them soaring towards Ultimate Victory 2025! The Blood Money Family is back on track!
Backstage
The camera transitions to a wide shot of AMY PAGE‘s opulent, glass-walled office, overlooking the bright lights of the Las Vegas strip. A large, ornate desk separates three chairs. Amy Page sits professionally behind the desk, a folder containing the contract lying before her. The sVo Champion, KENNETH D. WILLIAMS (KDW), stands opposite her, radiating confidence and focus, the crowd-favorite champion.
His challenger, CARLOS VASQUEZ, stands on the other side. Vasquez is dressed in an expensive, loud silk shirt and slacks, looking intense and slightly manic.
AMY PAGE: (A crisp, professional tone) Gentlemen, thank you for joining me. This is the contract for the sVo Championship match at Ultimate Victory 2025 on October 26th. It is a standard, no-disqualification, main event contract.
Amy slides the contract folder across the desk with a delicate push. The air is thick with tension. KDW nods once, acknowledging the business at hand, but his eyes are fixed on Vasquez.
KENNETH D. WILLIAMS: (His voice measured, champion-like) Amy, you know I’m ready. The fans know I’m ready. This contract just confirms what we all know: the biggest show of the year needs the sVo Champion defending his crown. And tonight, I’m putting my name on the line, just like I do every single night in the ring.
CARLOS VASQUEZ: (Snapping his focus to KDW, his voice loud, punctuated by a Cuban-American accent) Listen to me, man! You talk like a big shot, like you own this whole operation. But you just a temporary tenant, understand? I got the vision, KDW. I got the cojones. This belt? It ain’t yours. It ain’t Amy’s. It’s mine, and Ultimate Victory is when I take it! Say hello to the bad guy!
KDW: (Shakes his head slowly, a faint look of disgust) You talk a big game, Carlos. All bravado and shouting. But when the bell rings, the talking stops. You resort to dirty tricks and cheap shots because you know you can’t match me, man-to-man, in the center of that ring. You’re not a champion; you’re a bully looking for a shortcut.
AMY PAGE: (Taps the desk sharply) This isn’t the press conference, gentlemen. This is the signing. Carlos, your signature first.
Vasquez snatches the pen, glaring at KDW over the desk. He signs his name with a jagged, aggressive scrawl. He slams the folder down, nearly knocking over KDW’s glass of water.
CARLOS VASQUEZ: You got that, KDW? I sign first because I’m taking what’s mine first. You look good in that suit, man. You look like a rich boy. But when I’m done with you, you gonna look like a bum!
KDW remains cool. He steps forward, picks up the pen, and signs his name neatly and deliberately, his gaze locked firmly on Vasquez.
KENNETH D. WILLIAMS: You can’t rattle me, Carlos. Not with all the noise you can make. The only thing you’re signing tonight is your defeat. The sVo Championship belongs to the best competitor, the most resilient champion, and the man who represents integrity in this company. It belongs to me. And in three weeks, I’m going to beat the respect back into you.
AMY PAGE: (Picks up the folder and beams—a predatory smile) Wonderful. The contract is signed. The match is official. Now, let’s make sure everyone makes it to the pay-per-view in one piece.
Amy Page stands up, signaling the end of the meeting. The two men finally stand face-to-face across the desk, the tension barely contained, but they honor the moment. Vasquez snarls and slowly backs away, walking past the camera. KDW watches him go, his champion’s gaze unwavering before he turns and exits, leaving the COO alone in her office with the official contract.
Single Match
Noah Rogan vs. Dylan MacLeod
A single spotlight hits the stage as a chilling, synth-driven track begins to play. The lighting inside the arena shifts to an ominous, deep crimson.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: The atmosphere just changed in the Goodfellas Casino Arena. Here comes the ‘Python,’ Noah Rogan! This man is simply frightening, Julian. He’s been on a path of calculated destruction since returning to the sVo.
JULIAN FIASCO: Frighteningly effective, Sloan. Rogan is a meticulous predator. He doesn’t waste energy; he just breaks down his opponents piece by piece. His mind is as sharp as his offense, and tonight, ‘Northern Fury’ is going to learn that heart only takes you so far against true malice.
Noah Rogan, tall and imposing in black, sleek wrestling attire, walks slowly and deliberately to the ring. His face is a mask of cold, focused intensity. He doesn’t look at the crowd; he only stares at the ring with a fixed, hateful concentration.
Rogan slides into the ring, performing a series of intimidating, almost unsettling stretches while awaiting his opponent.
The lights snap back on, and an anthemic, driving rock theme with a heavy bassline hits the sound system. The crowd erupts in a surge of genuine support.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: But here comes the fan favourite! The rugged, no-nonsense fighter from the Great White North, Dylan MacLeod! They call him ‘Northern Fury’ for a reason, and he is ready to meet that malice head-on!
JULIAN FIASCO: MacLeod is a brawler, a scrapper. He’s popular because he fights tough, but Rogan will turn that intensity into MacLeod’s weakness. Rogan thrives on chaos, and MacLeod brings it with him every time.
Dylan MacLeod runs down the ramp, slapping hands, his face showing the determination of a fighter ready for war. He enters the ring, immediately locking eyes with the much taller Rogan. Referee Brett Lukas calls for the bell.
The bell rings. MacLeod, trying to nullify the size disadvantage, rushes Rogan with quick, stiff forearms to the chest. Rogan absorbs them, barely flinching, and shoves MacLeod back with immense power.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: MacLeod trying to use that fury to overwhelm him, but Rogan is like granite!
Rogan quickly capitalizes, driving a vicious knee into MacLeod’s gut, doubling him over. Rogan wraps his long arms around MacLeod, executing a seamless Belly-to-Back Suplex that plants MacLeod painfully on the mat.
JULIAN FIASCO: Pinpoint precision from Rogan. He finds the soft spot every time.
Rogan transitions immediately, dragging MacLeod to the corner and stomping on his hand, then his elbow, targeting the joints. He pulls MacLeod to his feet and locks in a deep Cobra Clutch on the standing MacLeod!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: The Anaconda Vice! Rogan’s signature submission attempt, the man-killer! He is trying to choke MacLeod out early!
MacLeod fights, twisting his body and kicking his feet, refusing to submit! The crowd is roaring for him to break the hold. MacLeod pushes back, managing to drop back, crashing both himself and Rogan through the ropes and to the floor on the outside!
JULIAN FIASCO: They’ve crashed out! That was MacLeod’s only way out of that submission!
Referee Lukas begins the count. Both men slowly stagger up on the outside. Rogan throws MacLeod violently into the steel ring steps!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: That’s a classic Rogan move! Utter disregard for the safety of his opponent!
Rogan stalks MacLeod back into the ring, where he follows up with a tight Body Scissors on the downed opponent, digging his elbow into MacLeod’s ribs, grinding him down. MacLeod screams in pain, feeding off the crowd’s desperate cheers.
MacLeod begins to power up, his face reddening with effort. He pushes his hands into the mat, slowly forcing himself up, carrying the weight of the much heavier Rogan on his back! He gets to his feet and executes a desperation Electric Chair Drop! Both men are down!
JULIAN FIASCO: What power from MacLeod! That came out of nowhere!
Both men slowly crawl toward opposite corners. Rogan is up first, charging at the dazed MacLeod. MacLeod ducks the clothesline, catching Rogan with a flurry of rapid Closed-Fist Punches to the head! Rogan stumbles!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: The Fury is rising! MacLeod has the momentum!
MacLeod hits a huge Spinebuster in the centre of the ring! He covers! One! Two! Rogan kicks out, popping up his shoulder at the last possible second!
MacLeod signals to the crowd, runs the ropes, and leaps for his signature Plancha attempt, but Rogan has it scouted! Rogan steps back, and MacLeod hits the mat hard. Rogan immediately pounces, wrapping his legs around MacLeod and locking in the full Anaconda Vice submission, cinching it in deeply!
JULIAN FIASCO: Game over! The Python has him trapped! He’s right in the middle of the ring!
MacLeod is turning purple, fighting for air, struggling against the unbreakable lock. He manages to hook one leg and, with an explosive burst of power, rolls through the submission! He uses the momentum to force Rogan onto his back!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: He rolls him through! MacLeod has him pinned! One! Two!
Rogan powers out! But as they get back to their feet, MacLeod is relentless! He ducks a wild clothesline and drills Rogan with the Northern Lights Driver—a devastating Sit-Out Powerbomb!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: THE NORTHERN LIGHTS DRIVER! LIGHTS OUT FOR ROGAN!
MacLeod hooks the leg with intensity! Referee Lukas slides in for the count! ONE! TWO! THREE!
Bell rings!
JULIAN FIASCO: No! Impossible! Rogan was out! The ‘Northern Fury’ prevails! I don’t believe it!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: Yes! Dylan MacLeod wins! He fought through the submission, he fought through the pain, and he conquers the ‘Python’ here tonight on Showdown! This is a massive victory for Dylan MacLeod, a true fan favourite victory!
MacLeod slowly gets to his feet, clutching his ribs and neck, acknowledging the roaring crowd. Rogan, meanwhile, rolls out of the ring, a look of cold, intense fury aimed at the victorious MacLeod, the taste of defeat bitter on his lips.
Backstage
The camera cuts backstage to the Gorilla position, the curtain separating the performers from the arena floor visible in the background. JASON MARTEL, the sVo Las Vegas Champion, is pacing, holding his title, looking intensely focused. DANNY DOMINO, dressed in grimy ring gear, is slouched on a road case, looking bored and menacing.
JASON MARTEL: (Stopping his pacing, addressing Domino with frustration) Look, Domino, whether we like it or not, we have to team up tonight. COO Page is forcing us into this. But this is the main event of Showdown, and I am the Las Vegas Champion. I want to look professional. We need a plan.
DANNY DOMINO: (Snorts, not moving) A plan? You sound like a damn schoolteacher, Martel. My plan is simple: I go in there, I beat up anyone who moves, and I win. What more do you need?
JASON MARTEL: We need cohesion! We’re facing Jake Blackwood and Alex Sterling—two guys who are already in the Victory Cup semi-finals, just like us! They’re dangerous, and they’ve got a chemistry we don’t! If we just go in as two loose cannons, we’ll lose momentum heading into the tournament.
DANNY DOMINO: Momentum? (Domino chuckles, a harsh, unpleasant sound) You know what builds momentum? Brutality. When I beat you in the semi-finals, it won’t be because I had a ‘plan,’ it’ll be because I beat you until you couldn’t stand up. Tonight is just a warm-up for that.
JASON MARTEL: If you think this is just a warm-up, you’re missing the point! If we lose tonight, they get the mental edge. I want to go out there, be clean, get the win, and then we can worry about tearing each other apart next week. We’re in this to win the Victory Cup, aren’t we?
DANNY DOMINO: I am. You? You’re obsessed with protecting that shiny little belt and looking good for the camera. Here’s your plan, Champ: You stay out of my way, you wait for the hot tag, and you let the Bully do the heavy lifting. I want that pinfall. I want that statement.
JASON MARTEL: (His face hardening, stepping right up to Domino) I am not a stepping stone, Domino. I earned this title, and I earned my spot in the semi-finals. We’ll work together, but it’ll be my way—clean tags, legal offense, and no unnecessary cheating. You try to cross me, and I promise you, I’ll take you out myself. I’ll make sure neither of us makes it to the final.
DANNY DOMINO: (Slowly stands up, rising to his full, imposing height, his eyes cold) Threats, huh? That’s more like it. Fine. You want to play by the rules? Go ahead and wrestle. I’m going to fight. But the second I see an opening to make myself look better than you, I’m taking it. Don’t turn your back on me, Martel. Not tonight, and definitely not next week.
The two men stand nose-to-nose, the hostility radiating off them as the arena music fades and the ring announcer’s voice can be heard calling out the main event from the other side of the curtain. They both break the stare, simultaneously turning toward the entrance, ready to explode on either side of the thin, black velvet divider.
Tag Team Match
Jake Blackwood & Alex Sterling vs. Danny Domino & Jason Martel
The familiar, triumphant rock theme of Jake Blackwood hits the speakers, and the crowd gives a good, solid pop for the former sVo Champion and current Victory Cup semi-finalist. He stands on the stage, looking confident, but his eyes are fixed on the other side of the stage, where his forced partner is emerging.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: This is the main event of Showdown 243! A truly unique situation orchestrated by COO Amy Page, forcing the Victory Cup semi-final competitors to team up tonight! The first bracket pairing: Jake Blackwood and the man he’ll face next week, Alex Sterling!
JULIAN FIASCO: Sterling is the wild card in that tournament, Sloan. He’s all about the opportunism, and tonight, he gets a front-row seat to study Blackwood’s strategy—and maybe leave him with a pre-match injury.
Alex Sterling, dressed in flashy gear, walks out with a cocky grin, not even making eye contact with Blackwood. He raises his hand to the audience, garnering boos, before walking dismissively past his partner and down the ramp.
The music shifts to a jarring, heavy guitar riff for Danny Domino, who stomps out with an aggressive snarl. He is quickly followed by the Las Vegas Champion, Jason Martel, whose upbeat, current music seems completely out of place next to Domino’s theme.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: The other bracket! The Las Vegas Champion, Jason Martel, and the brutal ‘Bully’ Danny Domino! These two nearly came to blows backstage, and now they have to trust each other in the main event!
JULIAN FIASCO: Trust? There is no trust here, Sloan! This is a forced, unholy alliance, and whoever gets the win tonight will have all the momentum going into Ultimate Victory season! This is pure psychological warfare.
The bell rings. Jason Martel starts for his team, while Jake Blackwood steps in for his. The crowd is buzzing, sensing the tension. Martel and Blackwood shake hands—a sign of mutual respect—but the moment they turn their backs, Danny Domino slaps Martel hard on the back, demanding the tag!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: Oh, the disrespect! Domino forcing his way into the match!
JULIAN FIASCO: He wants to set the tone, Sloan! He wants the easy kill!
Domino charges at Blackwood, but Blackwood is ready, ducking a wild clothesline and hitting a quick Drop Toe Hold, driving Domino’s head into the canvas. Blackwood tags in Alex Sterling with a forceful shove.
JEREMIAH SLOAN: Blackwood making a statement! He wants Sterling to work with him!
Sterling, annoyed, slowly enters the ring. Domino immediately overwhelms him, trapping Sterling in the corner with a series of brutal Knife Edge Chops. Domino uses his size advantage to batter Sterling, finishing with a huge Corner Splash!
Domino grabs Sterling by the hair and attempts to drag him to his corner, but Sterling counters with a desperate Jawbreaker, stunning Domino! Sterling tags out—but to Blackwood, not to Martel!
JULIAN FIASCO: What! Sterling tags out to his opponent! He’s trying to show up his partner!
Blackwood enters with renewed energy, taking the fight right to the bully, Domino. He hits a clean Snap Suplex, followed by a Diving European Uppercut from the second rope! Blackwood hooks the leg! One! Two! Kick out!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: Blackwood and Domino tearing into each other! They are fighting like this is the semi-final already!
Blackwood goes for a tag, but Sterling steps off the apron, looking disinterested, costing Blackwood valuable seconds! This hesitation allows Domino to recover. Domino shoves Blackwood into the ropes, and as Blackwood rebounds, Domino hits a crushing Spinebuster!
JULIAN FIASCO: Sterling abandoning his partner! This is what I was talking about! Ego over team!
Domino immediately tags in Jason Martel. Martel enters and targets the downed Blackwood, driving a series of hard elbow drops onto his back. Martel, working clean, keeps Blackwood grounded with a tight Headlock, grinding down the former Champion.
Blackwood eventually fights his way up, hitting a desperation Back Drop! Both men are down! Blackwood crawls, frantically trying to reach Sterling, who is now standing on the apron, taunting the crowd!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: Blackwood reaching for the tag! Sterling is right there!
Blackwood tags Sterling! Sterling flies in, fresh and fast, hitting a Springboard Crossbody onto Martel! He quickly follows up with a rapid Headscissors Takedown, spinning Martel to the mat! Sterling is showing off now!
JULIAN FIASCO: Now he cares! Sterling wants to prove he’s better than Blackwood and Martel!
Sterling sets up for his finisher. He hooks Martel for the Blackout—a snap DDT—but Domino slides into the ring, pulling Martel away! Sterling, confused, turns around right into a blind tag!
Domino rushes in, taking advantage of the miscommunication, driving Sterling into the corner. Blackwood tries to intervene, but Martel pulls him off the apron, engaging in a frantic brawl on the floor!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: Chaos has erupted! It’s all breaking down!
In the ring, Domino grabs the distracted Sterling. Martel slides in and hits a sneaky Low Blow on Sterling while the referee is distracted with Blackwood! Domino then capitalizes, lifting the stunned Sterling onto his shoulders!
Domino drives Sterling down with his devastating finisher, the Bully Driver—a vicious Running Sit-Out Powerbomb!
JEREMIAH SLOAN: The Bully Driver! It’s over! Domino and Martel are taking the win!
Domino hooks the leg! ONE! TWO! THREE!
Bell rings!
JULIAN FIASCO: They did it! The chaos team prevails! Danny Domino and Jason Martel win the main event because of the utter lack of cohesion between Blackwood and Sterling!
Domino and Martel raise their arms in a reluctant, tense victory. Blackwood immediately slides into the ring, screaming in the face of the defeated Alex Sterling, furious over the lack of a tag and his partner’s selfish actions. Sterling just shrugs and walks away, leaving Blackwood to deal with the aftermath as Domino and Martel stand tall. The psychological advantage has clearly been won by Domino and Martel heading into Ultimate Victory!
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