Queen, New York. As the cold December air sweeps through the streets, the scene outside The Elks Lodge buzzes with anticipation for the upcoming ECW Anarchy event. The building, adorned with festive Christmas lights, stands in stark contrast to the gritty, urban backdrop of the neighbourhood. Snowflakes drift lazily through the air, settling on the asphalt as a line of excited fans, some in hoodies and leather jackets, queue for tickets outside the box office while huddled together for warmth, their breath visible in the air.

Narrator: "Twas the night before chaos, and all through the ring, not a creature was stirring, not even a thing. The chairs were all stacked by the apron with care, in hopes that destruction would soon fill the air. The roster was nestled, preparing to fight, with visions of mayhem that'd make fans ignite. The Sinister Minister, with venomous grin, lay plotting the fate of the undisputed souls that he’d win.

Now Adam Cole, that arrogant punk. Thinks he’s got Mikey Whipwreck trapped in a funk. But Mikey, you see, is no easy prey. The gaint Mike Awesome, lay already slain. With a grit in his bones, and a fire in his eyes. Cole’s gold and glory may meet their demise. So get ready, dear fans, for a night you're unlikely to forget. As ECW rises, with blood, sweat, and regret. The bell will ring loud, and the carnage will start. The only thing Cole's receiving this Christmas, will be a broken heart!"

The sounds of cars passing and distant chatter blend with the faint echo of metal doors slamming and the rumble of trucks unloading gear inside. Despite the holiday cheer, there's a rabid energy in the crowd—a sense that something intense and chaotic is about to unfold, with the promise of the violent and unpredictable spectacle of ECW wrestling just days away.

We cut to a dim corridor stretched ahead of us, deep in the ancient basement of the Elks Lodge. A maze of peeling paint and rusted pipes that hissed and dripped with every step. The overhead lights flickered intermittently, casting an eerie strobe effect on the damp, grime-encrusted walls. We hear the rhythmic thud of the cameraman's boots against the concrete, each step echoing like a hollow drumbeat. The air was thick with mildew and something metallic, almost like a warning that this place hadn’t been touched in years. As the cameraman moved forward, the flickering lights seemed to pulse with the distant bass line of "BoomTrack" by Rage Against The Machine, growing louder and more intense with each step. The song’s heavy, defiant energy felt urging him onward into the unknown.

The sound of the track enveloped him as he nears a door at the end of the corridor, its beat now thumping through the floor and rattling the walls. Reaching for the handle, pushing the door open, and stepping into the room. The contrast was immediate. The stale, decaying air of the hallway was replaced by the pulse of R.A.T.M fully overtaking the space. Inside, Mikey Whipwreck, Tajiri, The Sinister Minister, and Jasmin St. Claire were gathered in a huddle, their attention split between each other and the small stereo in the corner of the room. Their t-shirts—black and
embellished with the logo of The Undisputed Era—stood out against the dim, fluorescent lights that buzzed overhead.

The group didn’t seem to acknowledge the cameraman's presence at first, as he lingered in the doorway, the camera rolling quietly. Mikey Whipwreck cracked a smile as Tajiri did a mock submission hold on The Sinister Minister, who theatrically howled in pain. Jasmin St. Claire leaned against the wall, laughing at their antics while tapping her foot to the music. There was a kind of chaotic energy in the room, a blend of camaraderie and aggression that only wrestlers could emanate. Their relaxed demeanour, paired with the thumping, defiant soundtrack, felt like a deliberate contrast to the rundown setting we found ourselves in. It was clear this wasn’t just a moment of downtime; it was a statement. Noticing the cameraman, the 4 quickly fall into line as The Sinister Minister rallies the group together, before pressing play on the stereo beside them as it replays "BoomTrack".

SM: "Ready guys?! And a 1, and a 2, and a 1,2,3,4..."

Mikey theatrically bends over, his hips swaying back at forth to the rhythm of the music. His butt up in the air while his fingers touch the floor, waiting for his que. Tajiri moves into shot, stroking the ends of his moustache before throwing some martial art style palm strikes, uppercuts and elbows toward us.

Tajiri: "それは私ですBOBBY FISH! THE UNDISPUTED ERAのサブミッションスペシャリスト。その匂いに騙されないでください。それは単なるギミックではありません。私は腐った魚の頭が入ったバケツのような臭いがすることに誇りを持っています。そうやって対戦相手全員を強制的に服従させるのです。この業界では、私はこの格言に従って生きています。友達を近くに置いてください...そしてアネモネも近くに置いてください!"

Subtitles: "Yo! It's your boy BOBBY FISH! Submission specialist to THE UNDISPUTED ERA. Don't let that smell fool you. It's not just a gimmick. I wear the smell of rotten fish heads like a badge of pride. It’s my secret weapon, a stench so fierce it forces my opponents to tap out. In this business, you can only live by one code of honour; Keep your friends close...and your anemones closer!"

The Sinister Minister gives Tajiri a comical whiff, holding his nose in disgust as he theatrically pretends to barf.

SM: "Damn Tajiri, you really weren't kidding, huh? What have I told you about hanging out at the fish market?! Bobby - Should you ever have the unpleasantry of going up against The Japanese Buzzsaw, well let's just say you'll come away looking more like a delightful tray of Sushi rolls then "Catch of the Day". You want to swim with the big boys, Bobby? Better learn how to breathe under pressure because at Anarchy, the Poison Mist will show you how it feels to drown! Jasmin, honey, you're up next!"

Jasmin shuffles across the floor in her ridiculously high heels toward the camera, trying not to slip over. Bumping Tajiri out of the way, she takes center stage, flicking her dark raven hair back and crossing her arms, flexing defiantly.

JSC: "They call me, "The Messiah of the Backbreaker", Roderick Stro..."

SM: "CUT! CUT! CUT!"

The Sinister Minister interrupts Jasmin mid flow. Mikey Whipwreck stands up in the background, holding his lower back while puffing into the air. He circles around, before bending over once more to touch his toes, winding up again for his cue.

SM: "Perhaps that wasn't such a good choice of words for you Jasmin. The world knows you've blown out more than a few backs in your time. Though it appears there's only room for one Messiah in ECW right now - and he seems to be causing more controversy then some of your most infamous movies!"

 JSC: "I didn't wanna be a part of you silly game anyway! Tut!"

SM: "And now Ladies and Gentleman...allow me to introduce, the newest, most menacing addition to The Unholy Alliance, and starring in tonight's performance as none other than Kyle O'Reilly - A true hardcore icon! The one, the only, the man they call...TOWEL BOY!"

Towel Boy walks into shot, a look of bewilderment on his face. Tajiri, Jasmin and The Sinister Minister tower over him from behind, as they size him up. The Sinister Minister's talons slithering around his shoulders, as he shoves him toward the camera.

SM: "Say the bit, kid. Just like we told you!"

TB: "And I'm...Kyle O'Reilly right? A man so dangerous, even my personality fled for cover! People always ask me "Kyle, what do you do when you're done being an absolute bore?". Well, I'm a strict man of discipline, like watching paint dry; if the paint also gave you unsolicited lessons on submission holds for three hours straight. My idea of charisma? A seminar on protein shakes and neck stretches. If the great Dean Malenko was "The Man of a 1000 Holds", then I most certainly am "The Man of 1000 Snores"."

SM: "Red Dragons and Christmas? Sounds like the stuff of a Fairytale of New York!"

TB: "Hey guys, I wanna listen to The Pogues next!"

With that, Mikey Whipwreck abruptly bursts through the group, pushing them all to one side like human bowling pins. 

MW: "ADAM COLE! BANG BANG!!" (Gun taunting ala Cactus Jack)

The Sinister Minister leans in toward Mikey, cupping his hand over his ear and whispering into it.

MW: "...BADA BING! BADA BOOM!"

Jasmin gives Mikey an awkward nudge.

MW: "Boom, Boom...Shake the room?!"

The Sinister Minister leans in once more, as the others face palm.

MW: "...BAY BAY!"

The squad give Mikey a ironic pat on the back, shaking their heads in disbelief as they exit the shot. Towel Boy switching off the stereo. Mikey shrugs, with a silly grin on his face as he watches them leave, turning back to address the camera.

MW: "It's time for story time with Mikey Whipwreck BayBay!"

"So, Mike Awesome, Jeff Jones…cheating you say?! Hmmm. This is ECW bub, where there are no rules! When I stepped into that ring with you, I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty. But that’s the thing about me, I don’t need things to be pretty. I just need to get the job done—and that’s exactly what I did. I’ve faced monsters before, and I’ve walked out on top, Barely Legal was no different. I’m still standing, Mike, and you’re the one still looking up at the lights.

But now, I’m looking ahead, and what do I see? Adam Cole. Another guy who thinks he’s the next big thing. Another guy who’s got a fancy catchphrase, and a ton of hype. But let me tell you something, Adam; you’re not the first person to walk in here with all that flash and bravado. I’ve heard all about you, while you’ve been running your mouth about being undisputed. But here’s the thing, you can’t just waltz into ECW and expect to waltz out with a win. I’ve been through wars in ECW, fought in the shadows of legends like Sabu and Terry Funk, and emerged as a champion by doing whatever it takes. So, when you walk into that ring, expecting to outshine me with your your over-the-top attitude, remember one thing; I’ve faced the best, and I’ve come out on top. You might think you journey to the top of the Extreme Classic starts with me, but I’m here to remind you that it’s never too late for an underdog to rise."

SM: "Less of the name dropping Mikey! We're about 1 promo away from getting sued for defamation by Steve Austin."

Mikey looks down at his Undisputed Era shirt, the faces of Cole, Fish, O'Reilly and Strong emblazoned on the motif.

MW: "Eeny, Blue Meanie, Miny, Moe!"

His index finger jumps from each character before finally covering the face of Adam Cole. Pressing hard into his chest, as if to pop Cole's head like a zit. 

MW: "I bet from our little performance earlier, that you think I'm not taking this match seriously? But I see what you’ve got cooking in your undisputed kingdom Adam. You may wear more fake tan then Francine at the Jersey Shore on a Friday Night, but I see straight through you. You know as well as I do that stepping into the ring with Mikey Whipwreck is no easy task. Mike Awesome learned that lesson the hard way. So, what do you do? You’ve got to bring in the heavy artillery.

See, growing up my Padre always used to tell me, dealing with a snake oil salesmen, like yourself, requires learning the right kind of act. A pantomime, if you will. There are seventeen different things a guy can do when he lies to give himself away. A guys got 17 pantomimes. A woman's got 20, but a guy's got 17; but, if you know them, like you know your own face, they beat lie detectors all to hell. Now, what we got here with you, is a little game of show and tell. You don't wanna show me nothin', but you're tellin me everything. You’re already making vain excuses for when things get tough, and that’s why you’ve got Fish and O’Reilly backing you up. Well, that’s just another thing that proves you don’t believe in your own ability, Adam. You think you’re gonna beat me fair and square? Nah. You know deep down that you can’t do it alone. You’re gonna need those two guys at ringside, you’re gonna need the numbers game, because you know what I bring to the table. And you know that without them, you're not even a challenge for me.

We all saw what reDRagon did to Bubba and D-Von. They ran them straight back to Dudleyville! But this match? Well, things aren’t going to work out the same for you, especially when your opponent has actually come prepared! At Barely Legal, I did what no one thought was possible. I walked into the ring with Mike Awesome, the human wrecking machine, and I walked out with the victory. Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. Yeah, I took a hell of a beating. But guess what? That’s the story of my career. I’ve been knocked down, slammed through tables, blasted with chairs, and sent flying through every turnbuckle in this business, but I always get up - trust me, that’s something I’ve mastered. Some say you’re cunning, devious enough to blindside an opponent in an instant. But Adam, what you’ve yet to master is the art of mind games. That’s where I come in. Your focus on me in our bout won't be enough on it's own. When you move left, I'll be going right. When you go high, I'll be going low. You won’t know what’s coming next. So, think of my Japanese Buzzsaw as a little insurance policy against whatever schemes you and your crew might have cooked up for Anarchy."

The cameraman pans back over to where Tajiri is standing, his gaze fixated on Jasmin's chest, oblivious to the responsibility just bestowed upon him. The Sinister Minister, with an ominous grin, appears from over Tajiri's shoulder, his voice dripping with mock sweetness.

SM: "It’s too bad that stupidity isn’t painful, otherwise The Undisputed Era well, they would be wallowing in agony right about now. Let’s face it, the collective IQ of Cole, Fish and O’Reilly well, it’s slightly less that that of aquarium gravel. So imagine their dismay, when the Japanese Buzzsaw, Tajiri, shows up at ringside. Now, it’s an unlikely pairing. Wrestling, like politics, does make for strange bed fellows. Are there cultural differences? Certainly! Is there a language barrier? Yes, yes, there is a language barrier. But Tajiri, well he doesn’t need to speak english. He does however speak an international language and it’s called PAIN. It works like this. Let's say you have a little puppy and he’s missed the newspaper and piddled on the floor. Well, you can get in that mutt's face all day long and say Bad Dog! Bad Dog! But it doesn’t make any sense. On the other hand, if you grab that mutt by his hind legs and CRACK his head up against the wall or kick him in the ribs, it’s going to register to him that you mean business. And that, is what The Undisputed Era has to look forward to at Anarchy; a house breaking at the hands of Mikey Whipreck and Tajiri!"

The Sinister Minister and Mikey Whipwreck erupt into maniacal laughter as Tajiri’s attention drifts from Jasmin’s own puppies. He grins with widened eyes. His teeth, tinged with a greenish hue from years of spewing his infamous green mist, add an unsettling edge to his expression.

Tajiri: "Me love her long time!"

MW: "I’ve spent my entire career proving people wrong, and this Extreme Classic is no different. Advancing to the second round isn’t just about winning; it’s about reminding everyone why I belong in that ring. I’ve fought through pain, adversity and odds so stacked they looked impossible, but that’s where I thrive. Adam Cole, you might think you're here to shock the future of ECW, but I’ve got the scars to prove I’ve already lived through wars you can’t even imagine. This tournament is my chance to show I’ve still got what it takes, no matter who stands in my way or what it costs me.

When I step into that ring against you Cole, I’m not just fighting you, or The Undisputed Era; I’m fighting every doubter, every critic, and every setback I’ve ever faced. If it means tearing my body apart, so be it. I’ll absorb every hit, take every fall, and still get back up, because I refuse to let anyone stand between me and the next round. Cole, you may be cockier and far better looking, but I’ve got something you don't; an unrelenting will to survive and a willingness to embrace destruction if it gets me the win. So when the sunrise down in Panama finally sets on your Christmas miracle, you'll realise that you weren't just facing Mikey Whipwreck; you were facing a man with nothing to lose, everything to prove and the NEXT ECW World Heavyweight Champion. I'm not here to shock the system. I'm here to SNAP yours in half!"

The Sinister Minister strides into the frame, gleefully handing out Santa hats like a deranged holiday elf. Towel Boy and Jasmin light up, delighted by their festive headwear, while Tajiri, true to form, sniffs his hat suspiciously before trying to take a bite out of it like it’s made of gingerbread. The Minister chuckles, tugging his own hat snugly into place with a flair of theatricality, then turns to Mikey, who’s wrestling with his hat as it refuses to stretch over his fiery red mane. "It’s a Santa hat, not a wrestling mask!" the Minister quips, yanking it down with a flourish, leaving Mikey looking equal parts festive and frazzled.

SM: "Ho ho ho, Adam! Let me paint you a picture, my friend. This match against Mikey Whipwreck? It’s like a Christmas present you never asked for. You think you’re getting something shiny and sweet, but instead, you’re about to unwrap a nightmare wrapped in barbed wire and broken dreams. We all know you’ll show up thinking you’re the star of the show, the one everyone’s waiting for, but when that bell rings, Christmas Day will turn into your personal horror show. Mikey Whipwreck is a rabid little elf, and trust me, he’s got a list, and you’re on the naughty side. You think you're the gift that keeps on giving? This isn’t the kind of holiday magic you want, Adam, this is the kind that leaves scars and memories you’d rather forget. So enjoy the season, but remember… the only thing that’ll be jolly about this match will be the sound of your bones cracking under the weight of your own expectations. And just like every bad present you've ever gotten, you’ll smile, you’ll say thank you, when deep down, you'll wish you could return it. Merry Christmas, kid. Hope you enjoy the ride!"

The Unholy Alliance gather together in the center of the room, like cackling Witches huddled around a coldren. The Sinister Minister in the middle, leading the charge. He points at Towel Boy, who presses play for the final time on the stereo as BoomTrack surges through the room once more. The gang eerily beginning to bop and nod in a sadistic ritual to the beat before all breaking out in unison with...

"Burn, burn, yes, you're gonna burn!
Burn, burn, yes, you're gonna burn!!
Burn, burn, yes, you're gonna burn!!!
Burn, burn, yes, you're gonna burn!!!!
Burn, burn, yes, you're gonna burn!!!!!
Burn, burn, yes, you're gonna burn!!!!!!
Burn, burn, yes, you're gonna burn!!!!!!!
BURN, BURN, YES, YOU’RE GONNA BURN!!!!!!!"

We cut back to the street outside the Elks Lodge, where the line has now stretched down the block. Fans exchanging stories of past matches and predictions for the event ahead. The unmistakable scent of hot dogs and pretzels wafted from a nearby street vendor, mixing with the occasional burst of laughter and chants of “E-C-Dub!” that echoed down the street.

Narrator: "O unholy night, the stage is set for battle. The air is tense, and chaos starts to brew. Adam Cole stands, his confidence unshaken. But shadows stir with vengeance long past due. Whipwreck and Tajiri, with Minister's laughter. Weave their dark plans, the end drawing faster. Dread fills the air, destruction’s tune is crooned. A reckoning comes closer, stay tuned…oh stay tuned!"

Cut.

Shout out to Rob for the banner above