Champions:

2/27-Wrestling Night in the Heartland on HOTv

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Feb
28

Cue the pyro…

Missouri Valley Wrestling
Wrestling Night in the Heartland
CHI Health Center Arena Omaha
Omaha, Nebraska
Tuesday February 27th, 2024


Announcers: Thunderbolt Smith and ‘Long Haul’ Rick Hall

Backstage Interviewer: Kellie Burkowski

Ring Announcer: Heather Cooper

MVW… MVW… MVW…

Opening:
The roar of the crowd echoed through the CHI Health Center Arena.

Thunderbolt Smith: Welcome everyone to another edition of Wrestling Night in the Heartland.  We are in Omaha, Nebraska tonight at the CHI Health Center Arena and we’ve got a big show for you tonight.  I am Thunderbolt Smith.   He is ‘Long Haul’ Rick Hall.

“Long Haul” Rick Hall: Thanks Thunderbolt. You can bet your bottom dollar tonight’s going to be one hell of a night!  We have a huge crowd tonight of over thirteen thousand people here at the CHI Health Center Arena and I believe that’s our biggest crowd ever.

Thunderbolt: I believe you are right.  Last week, things heated up big time between Jill Berg Enterprises and Jennifer Colton.

Rick: That’s right.  After Colton’s match, Jill Berg Enterprises came out and Colton was surrounded. Shizuko Yamazaki… her opponent… stood by her side but then Ria from PRIME and Miranda DC from SHOOT Project came to help her.  Then Amberley Stanton jumped out of the crowd and attacked Jill Berg and Madison Miller with a chair.

Thunderbolt: And then the end of last week’s show saw ‘Redneck’ Bill Dickinson take out Adam Ellis with three Southern Fried Powerbombs.

Rick: After Dickinson won the match after hitting a Southern Fried Powerbomb on Adam Ellis, Dickinson delivered a second Southern Fried Powerbomb on Ellis. Soon after, The Alabama Gang’s R.G. Jenkins and Mark Hendry rushed in and hit Alabama Slams on Ellis, followed by a third Southern Fried Powerbomb. Dickinson then said Ellis thought that he could simply return to MVW and win the MVW Title just like that.

Thunderbolt Smith: We’ve got five matches for you on tonight’s show.  First, we have two big matches that will affect the rankings.

Rick: That’s right, Thunderbolt.  Surf Express Bro will take on the up-and-coming Sports Entertainment Corporation in a Men’s Tag Team Division #3 vs. #4 contender’s match.  Then we have Ricky Stevens going up against Buckshot Henderson in a #3 vs. #4 contender’s match.

Thunderbolt Smith: Big matches indeed.  Also on tonight’s card, we will have MVW Women’s Tag Team Champions Jill Berg Enterprises, MVW Tag Team Champions The Stevens Dynasty, and MVW Women’s Champion Victoria McGill in action.  But now, let’s go to the ring.

Adam Ellis Segment
As their voices settled into the background, the camera panned down to the ring where Adam Ellis stood solemnly, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the mat. The young wrestler’s eyes held a mix of pain and determination, a stark contrast to last week when ‘Redneck’ Bill Dickinson and The Alabama Gang left him crumpled beneath their boots.


Adam Ellis

Adam Ellis: Last week, I learned a harsh lesson.

He paused, rubbing a still-tender bruise on his jaw.

Adam:  When you walk alone in this business, you make yourself a target. But I’m not about to let that keep me down.

The crowd erupted, rallying behind the Warrensburg, Missouri native as he lifted his gaze, defiance etched into his features.

Adam: That’s right.  I’ve taken my lumps in HOW.  I’ve taken my lumps in PRIME.  And I’ll take my lumps here too.  However, I also know now more than ever, you need eyes in the back of your head—or someone watching your back.  Since my wife Ginny is back home tonight, pregnant with our first child, having her in my corner is a no go.  So…

IT’S THE NEW STUFF!

The opening chords of a mash-up of Led Zeppelin’s “Heartbreaker” and The Beastie Boys “Sabotage” ripped through the loudspeakers. Heads turned towards the entrance ramp where Dawn McGill appeared, her powerful presence amplified by the night’s attire—a sleek black leather jacket draped over a crimson tank top paired with skin-tight jeans that hinted at the strength in her long legs.


Dawn McGill

“Long Haul” Rick Hall couldn’t contain his enthusiasm.

Rick: And speak of the devil, here comes the 6-foot demolition machine herself, Dawn McGill!”

Dawn strode confidently down the ramp, her stride purposeful and her chin high, a Singapore cane gripped firmly in hand. The crowd was on its feet, sensing the electricity in the air as she rolled under the bottom rope and joined Adam in the ring.

Dawn McGill: Omaha!

Dawn’s voice boomed across the arena, commanding attention like a general before her troops.

Dawn: Hear me and hear me good!  Sunny O’Callahan… Alabama Gang… consider this your official notice!

She pointed the cane towards the camera, the metal tip glinting under the lights.

Dawn: You want to play dirty? You want to gang up on people like a pack of cowardly hyenas? Well, you just woke up the lioness.

A cheer thundered from the audience as Dawn stepped through the ropes, standing shoulder to shoulder with Adam Ellis.

Dawn: Adam is not alone anymore. And the next time any of you even think about jumping him from behind, remember this- I’ve got no qualms about coming out here with my Singapore cane and send each and every one of you back to Alabama, courtesy of a one-way ticket from me!

Rick: Well, that’s a declaration of war.

Thunderbolt: Yes it is.

As Dawn raised her cane high, the screen faded to black, leaving the home audience with the certainty that the next chapter of this saga would be written in bruises and unbreakable alliances.

Jill Berg Enterprises Segment
The camera panned through the sea of roaring fans before making a sharp transition to an entirely different world backstage—a sanctuary of luxury within the walls of the CHI Health Center Arena. The dressing room was a testament to decadence, adorned with plush velvet furnishings, gilded mirrors, and crystal chandeliers that cast a warm glow over everything they touched. This was the empire of Jill Berg Enterprises, where opulence met the iron will of its ruler.


CEO of Jill Berg Enterprises
Jill Berg

Standing amidst this grandeur was ‘The Corporate Predator’ herself, Jill Berg. Even in such an environment, her presence outshone all else. Jill’s poise was unshakeable, her eyes held the cool fire of calculated ambition, and every line of her tailored suit spoke of power meticulously maintained.

Jill Berg: Interlopers…

She spat the word out like a curse, pacing before a wall that boasted framed magazine covers featuring her triumphs.

Jill: …PRIME President and CEO Lindsay Troy, PRIME’s Ria, Miranda DC from The SHOOT Project.  What business is it theirs to interfere in my affairs?  You think you can just waltz into MY business and throw your weight around?  You come to Jennifer Colton’s aid as if she’s suffering damsel in distress who needs rescuing?  Tis is MVW, not some playground for PRIME’s queen bee or SHOOT Project’s meddling meddlers!

She paused to glare at her reflection in the mirror, her hands planted firmly on the mahogany dresser.

Jill: Stay out of my affairs, Or you will face consequences far worse than anything you’ve ever experienced in your precious little federations!  As for you Amberley Stanton… you’ve poked the Corporate Predator one too many times.

Jill turned towards the camera, her expression hardening further.

Jill: That little stunt you pulled, taking me and Madison Miller out with steel-folding chairs… there will be repercussions.

She pointed directly into the lens, her finger as accusing as a prosecutor’s.

Jill: I built JBE from the ground up, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone tarnish what I’ve created.  I will protect my empire, whatever the cost.

With a swift motion, as though dismissing an unworthy opponent from her ring, Jill snapped her fingers. A suited assistant, previously unseen, stepped into frame, his hand hovering over a switchboard. “Cut the feed,” she commanded, her voice brooking no argument.


High Octane Wrestling

MATCH #1: The Sports Entertainment Corporation vs. Surf Express Bro
The arena’s ambiance shifted palpably as Heather Cooper took center stage, a spotlight illuminating her in the squared circle. She cut a striking figure, the black dress hugging her silhouette, an embodiment of poise and charisma. Her brown eyes sparkled with an enigmatic allure as she brought the microphone to her lips, her voice slicing through the excited murmurs of the crowd.

Heather Cooper: Our first match tonight will be…

Crowd: ONE FALL!

As if on cue, darkness enveloped the arena, a harbinger of the imminent confrontation. A heavy guitar riff tore through the speakers, signaling the arrival of The Sports Entertainment Corporation. Their entrance music, a symphony of intimidation, echoed off the walls as they emerged like gladiators ready for battle. Their swagger was unmistakable, their sneers a testament to their notorious reputation. Boos cascaded down from the stands, but they seemed to feed off the animosity, absorbing it with a perverse satisfaction.

Following them down the ramp to the ring are the Corporation Sports(entertainment) Programming Nation aka CSPN.  They are filming the team as they walk to the ring.

Heather: …and is a #3 versus #4 contender’s match in the Men’s Tag Team Division.  First… accompanied to the ring by the ‘Sports Entertainment Genius’ Triple R and the ‘Mouthpiece of the SEC’ Phil Finebaum… please welcome GATOR BATES!… THE ALABAMA KID!  They are THE SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT CORPORATION!

Back in the ring, The Sports Entertainment Corporation stood tall, their arrogance casting a shadow over the canvas. They were the predators, the arena their hunting ground.

Heather: And their opponents…

Yet, the atmosphere cracked with a sudden surge of energy as a different tune struck up—a melody that promised revelry and rebellion.  No sooner had the first chords of ‘Nothin’ Like a Good Time’ by Poison hit the speakers than the crowd erupted into a cacophony of adulation.

Heather’s face lit up with a smile as she introduced them, her words painting the image of high-flying daredevils, the very antithesis of their opponents.

Heather: BOWIE ADAMS… BRADLEE NELSON… GIVE IT UP FOR THE DYNAMIC, DARING, AND DOWNRIGHT DELIGHTFUL… SURF EXPRESS BRO!


Surf Express Bro: Bowie Abrams and Bradlee Nelson

The duo bounded onto the stage, their youthful exuberance a stark contrast to the brooding menace they faced across the ring. Their carefree spirit was infectious, their energy almost tangible as they slapped hands with fans and performed acrobatic flips, each movement choreographed to embody the thrill of the surf.

Thunderbolt: Let’s not forget the stakes tonight. This is a #3 versus #4 contender’s showdown.

His words hung in the air, imbuing the moment with a significance that transcended the rivalry. This was about more than just bragging rights; this was about the path to glory.

The bell clanged with a finality that echoed through the arena, signaling the end of an epic struggle. Heather Cooper’s voice cut through the din of the audience, a velvety announcement that crowned new victors amidst the sweat and glory of the squared circle.

Heather: Your winners, Surf Express Bro!

A triumphant roar surged from the crowd, a tidal wave of approval as Bowie Abrams and his partner threw their arms up in victory. Their beaming smiles reflected the joy of triumph, their bodies heaving with the exertion of battle. Confetti cannons exploded, showering the ring with a kaleidoscope of color, mirroring the elation that pulsed through the veins of every spectator.

Thunderbolt: Surf Express Bro pick up the win and hold on to their #3 contender’s ranking in the Men’s Tag Team Division-

But the celebration was cruelly short-lived. Gator Bates, his eyes simmering with the heat of defeat, blindsided Bowie with a vicious forearm to the back of the head. The sound of impact was sickening, a thud that resonated with the collective gasp of the audience.

Chaos erupted like a volcano. Fists flew with the reckless abandon of unleashed fury as bodies collided with the merciless force of tectonic plates. The referee, dwarfed by the melee, desperately attempted to restore order, but the ring had become a lawless land where only the strong survived.

Thunderbolt: Come on! There is no call for this kind of behavior after the bell!

Rick: Thunderbolt, it’s clear The Sports Entertainment Corporation are still finding their feet in what is a stacked Men’s Tag Team Division.  Tough loss tonight.

The crowd was on its feet, feeding off the raw energy of the post-match brawl. The once-calm sea of spectators churned into a storm of excitement, their cheers fueling the bedlam within the ropes.

Kellie Burkowski Interviews ‘Redneck’ Bill Dickinson
Cutting away from the pandemonium, the scene shifted backstage. Kellie Burkowski’s blue eyes were sharp, focused as she faced ‘Redneck’ Bill Dickinson and the Alabama Gang, her microphone poised like a sword ready for combat.  Dickinson had the MVW title belt over his shoulder.


MVW Champion ‘Redneck’ Bill Dickinson

Kellie Burkowski: Bill, earlier tonight we heard some strong words from Adam Ellis regarding what happened last week after your MVW Title defense. What’s your response?

Dickinson’s face was a mask of stoic pride, his jaw set in a line that spoke volumes of his resilience. He leaned into the mic, his voice a growl of defiance that rattled the airwaves.

Bill Dickinson: Adam Ellis said what he said,” Dickinson began, the Southern drawl adding a gritty texture to his words. “But talk is cheap. If he wants a shot at my title, he’s gonna have to step over my dead body to get it.”

Dickinson turned to the camera and pointed his finger at the lens.

Dickinson: Son, I’ve bled for this belt. I’ve sacrificed more than he can imagine. Holding onto this title ain’t just about me—it’s about honor, tradition, and proving that I’m the toughest S.O.B. that ever stepped foot in this ring. You’re gonna have to earn it, the hard way, boy.

The fiery glint in Sunny O’Callahan’s eyes matched the spark of her auburn hair as she suddenly stepped into view, seizing the microphone from Kellie with a wild energy that could ignite the air itself. Her voice, laden with a Southern twang and as sharp as barbed wire, sliced through the tension backstage.


Sunny O’Callahan

Sunny O’Callahan: Listen up, Dawn McGill.  You think you can just waltz in here and declare war on the Alabama Gang without any repercussions?”

She scoffed, tossing her head back, her laugh tinged with malice.

Sunny: Honey, you got another thing coming.

Sunny leaned in closer, her face a mask of menacing intent.

Sunny: Last time you crossed me, I left you lying in the middle of that parking lot in Cleveland after the Jimmy Buffet show after I took you down with a SUV, wondering what hit ya. Next time…

She paused for dramatic effect, her gaze piercing through the camera lens, as if locking eyes with Dawn herself.

Sunny: Next time, it won’t be just a statement. It’ll be the end of your little rebellion.

Releasing the microphone like dropping a smoking gun, Sunny sauntered off, leaving a trail of unspoken threats hanging in the thick air of anticipation.

Back at ringside, Thunderbolt Smith adjusted his headset, his stoic expression showing a flicker of concern.

Thunderbolt: Folks, you’ve just heard Sunny O’Callahan’s response to Dawn McGill’s declaration of war earlier in the show. There’s no doubt that tensions are escalating here in MVW between these two women.”

“Long Haul” Rick Hall, beside him, nodded vigorously, his eyes wide with the excitement of brewing conflict.

Rick: That’s right, Thunderbolt. We’ve seen what the Alabama Gang is capable of, and if I were Dawn McGill, I’d watch my back. These two have history and this could explode into one of the most heated feuds MVW has ever seen!

Thunderbolt turned to his colleague, his voice steady but charged with the gravity of the situation.

Thunderbolt: And let’s not forget the strong words from ‘Redneck’ Bill Dickinson. He’s sending a clear message to Adam Ellis- nothing is going to come easy in Adam’s quest to regain the MVW Title.

Rick: Absolutely, Thunderbolt. Dickinson’s resolve is like iron, and Ellis has his work cut out for him. The road to the championship is fraught with obstacles, and only the toughest will survive.

Hall’s voice rose with each word, mirroring the crescendo of the crowd’s roaring enthusiasm outside the commentators’ booth.

Thunderbolt: Stay tuned for more high-octane action and riveting drama here at MVW. For now, we’re heading to a commercial break, but don’t go anywhere.

With that, the screen faded to black, the last image being Thunderbolt and Hall exchanging a knowing glance—a silent acknowledgement that they, too, were bracing for the impending storm.


PRIME

Thunderbolt: All right, back to Heather Cooper for our next match.

MATCH #2: Ricky Stevens w/Dru Danes and Triple R vs. Buckshot Henderson w/Lillie Mae
Heather nodded to Thunderbolt and raised the microphone.

Heather: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!  Our next match will be…

Crowd: ONE FALL!

Heather: …and is a #3 versus #4 contender’s match in the Men’s Division. Introducing first…

The raucous twang of Rhett Akins’ “Kiss My Country Ass” cut through the electrified atmosphere as Heather Cooper commanded center stage, her voice sultry and commanding.

Heather: Ladies and gentlemen, accompanied by ‘The Girl in Every Country Song’ Lillie Mae… BUCKSHOT HENDERSON!


Buckshot Henderson with ‘The Girl in Every Country Song’ Lillie Mae

The crowd detonated into a frenzy of cheers, stomping their feet like a thunderclap against the arena’s foundations as Buckshot Henderson swaggered down the ramp with the unbridled confidence of a man who knew he was the toughest son of a gun in any room.

By his side, Lillie Mae sauntered with an allure that was both innocent and intoxicating. She was the embodiment of a homespun country fantasy—her sun-kissed skin glistening under the arena lights, a red bikini top hugging her curves, and frayed denim shorts that left little to the imagination. A baseball cap perched atop her flowing brunette locks, and flip-flops slapped rhythmically against her heels, each step a siren’s call to everyone watching.

As Buckshot climbed onto the apron, Lillie Mae gave him an encouraging pat on the back before taking her place at ringside, her eyes twinkling with the mischief of a thousand honky-tonk nights and the untamed spirit of the heartland.

The momentary euphoria was shattered by the raw guitar riffs of “Search and Destroy” as it echoed through the arena. Heather’s voice once again rose above the din, this time introducing the high-flying daredevil.

Heather: And his opponent…

Ricky marched confidently towards the squared circle, oozing the poise of a seasoned acrobat poised to defy gravity once more.

Heather: Representing the Stevens Dynasty… RICKY STEVENS!


Ricky Stevens with Dru Danes and the ‘Patriarch of the Stevens Dynasty’ Cary Stevens

Dru Danes strode alongside him, her presence less conspicuous but no less integral, a silent guardian angel in sleek athletic gear—a stark contrast to Lillie Mae’s vibrant display.

Behind them, Cary Stevens cast a long shadow, his weathered features etched with the wisdom and scars of a life spent inside and outside the ropes. As patriarch of the Stevens Dynasty, he carried himself with the gravitas of wrestling royalty, surveying the scene with calculating eyes that had seen it all.

The two combatants stepped into the ring, eyeing each other warily as the anticipation in the air crackled like static.

Thunderbolt: It’s the brazen brawler from Tryon, South Carolina against the aerial artist from San Francisco, California. Two paths destined to clash in a spectacle of sweat, grit, and glory.

The arena’s lingering cheers subsided as Thunderbolt Smith and ‘Long Haul’ Rick Hall took over the broadcast, their seasoned voices a familiar comfort to fans at home.

“And Ricky Stevens gets the win!” Thunderbolt said with his usual poise, leaning into his microphone. “He remains at #3 in the MVW Division contender’s rankings.”

“Absolutely, Thunderbolt,” Hall agreed, his voice rising with excitement. “Both competitors laid it all out in the ring tonight. But in the end, it was Stevens’ Chickenwing Facelock that secured him the victory.”

“Fans at home,” Thunderbolt continued, his tone shifting to build suspense, “don’t go anywhere because we’ve got plenty more action coming up after this commercial break.”


Sanctioned Violence Organization

Kellie Burkowski Interviews Triple R
The broadcast returned with Kellie Burkowski, her blonde hair gleaming under the backstage lights, standing by with Triple R, whose scowl seemed to deepen the lines on his face. He paced back and forth, frustration evident in every clenched muscle.


‘Sports Entertainment Genius’
‘The Raconteur of Road Rage’

Triple R

Kellie: Triple R, you’ve demanded this time to address the actions of Surf Express Bro earlier tonight. What’s on your mind?

Triple R: Kellie…

Triple R’s voice seething with disdain.

Triple R: What clearly happened tonight is that Surf Express Bro decided to play go into business for themselves and deviate from the script that is sports entertainment. They think they can disregard the script that said the Sports Entertainment Corporation would win the match and disrupt the show? Well, they’re dead wrong.

He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing.

Triple R: I’m not just a genius; I’m THE Sports Entertainment Genius. And let me tell you something—nobody makes a mockery of my script. Mark my words, Surf Express Bro will pay the price.

The scene switched back to the commentators’ table.

Thunderbolt: Strong words from Triple R.

Rick: Thunderbolt, Surf Express Bro better be ready for the storm that’s coming their way. The SEC has them on their radar and there will be a reckoning.

Thunderbolt: Indeed, Rick.  But for now, let’s get back to the ring for more action here at MVW!”

The camera then panned away from the commentary team, the crowd’s roar swelling once again as the next match was set to begin.

MATCH #3: Women’s Tag Team Champions Jill Berg Enterprises vs. Missy Barnes and Wendy Watson
The ring glowed under the spotlight as Heather Cooper, with her sultry voice and curves hugged by a shimmering black dress, commanded the arena’s attention.

Heather: Ladies and gentlemen, our next match is going to be…

Crowd: ONE FALL!

Heather: Please welcome the two wrestlers already in the ring, the indomitable Missy Barnes and the ever-resilient Wendy Watson!

The two combat-ready women stood in the squared circle, nodding at the acknowledgment, their eyes fixed on the entrance ramp with steely determination.

Heather: And their opponents…

Suddenly, a series of resounding THUMP, THUMP, THUMP-THUMP-THUMP echoed throughout the arena. The camera shifted its focus to the stage, where Jill Berg, CEO of Jill Berg Enterprises, confidently strode out with her security detail flanking her on either side.


Jill Berg

Heather: …led to the ring by the Corporate Predator and CEO of Jill Berg Enterprises… JILL BERG!

The crowd erupted into a cacophony of cheers and jeers as she made her way down the ramp, her eyes locked onto the ring like a predator stalking its prey.  With each step, Jill exuded power and control, her gaze never wavering as she climbed into the ring.

Heather: ‘Canadian Cyborg’ Sheline Carrigan… Madison Miller…

Then, a new pulse. ‘Canadian Cyborg,’ Sheline Carrigan strode out, red and white attire hugging her muscular form, the Canadian flag emblazoned across her chest—a national titan. Beside her, Melissa Miller, lithe and coiled like a spring, clad in simplicity: white tank top, blue jeans.

Heather: …THEY ARE THE MVW WOMEN’S TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS!  JILL… BERG… ENTERPRISES!

Behind them loomed Prisoner #034291, a monolith in orange, a walking fortress. Her presence was gravity, pulling whispers from the throng, her reputation preceding her like a shockwave. She flanked the athletes, a silent sentinel guiding them toward the squared circle.

Thunderbolt: Next week, Jill Berg Enterprises defends the MVW Women’s Tag Team Titles against Laney Harrison and McLean Oswald.

Carrigan climbed the steps, steel bending under her weight, the embodiment of raw power and precision. Miller followed, agile, darting up with cat-like grace. Prisoner #034291 stood ground, her gaze sweeping over the masses, a warning, a challenge.

Rick: This will be a good tune-up match for Harrison and Oswald next week.

As the final devastating move was delivered, Sheline and Madison stood victorious. Madison turned and popped Barnes with a right hand before Jill Berg joined them in the center of the ring, their arms raised triumphantly, basking in the glory of conquest.

Thunderbolt: JBE looks strong going into next week’s title defense…  hold on.

But triumph turned to shock in the blink of an eye. Amberley Stanton, fueled by vengeance and armed with a baseball bat, vaulted the rail with athletic grace. The crowd erupted, the sudden shift in narrative gripping them.

Rick: AMBERLEY STANTON!


Amberley Stanton

With a swing that cut through the air with a ferocity that matched the music’s decrescendo, Amberley struck Prisoner #034291 squarely in the back. The giant fell, rendered motionless, her invincibility shattered by the cold steel of retribution.

Thunderbolt: BASEBALL BAT TO THE BACK OF PRISONER #034291 AND SHE IS DOWN!

Jill Berg’s face contorted with rage, veins bulging with fury as her well-orchestrated plans crumbled before her. But Amberley was already retreating, her mission accomplished, slipping away into the sea of spectators who parted for her like a wave, concealing her escape.

Rick: Amberley Stanton continues to poke the corporate bear, Thunderbolt.

As the screen faded to black and commercials began to play, fans were left with the image of chaos in the ring and the promise of repercussions to come.


SHOOT Project

The broadcast began to glitch a bit before transitioning to a video that began to play. The view panned over a large office, with a man most MVW fans were familiar with and hated all the same seated behind a large desk.

Jace Parker Davidson: Good evening… people of…

Davidson shuddered visibly.

Jace Parker Davidson: …Omaha, Nebraska.


HOW LSD Champion and General Manager
Jace Parker Davidson

Davidson shook his head and stuck out his tongue like the word left a foul taste in his mouth.

Jace Parker Davidson: For those of you that haven’t been living under a rock… or a barn, in your cases. I am the new General Manager of High Octane Wrestling. I am a two-time HOW Hall of Famer and the current LSD Champion. My name, of course, is Jace Parker Davidson.

Jace paused and waited, expecting the mere mention of his own name to send the fans of MVW into a frenzy.

Jace Parker Davidson: I’m sure you’re all wondering why I am taking time away here in my office to interrupt your show. I’m here to announce to you and the MVW roster that myself and Ray McAvay have come to an agreement.

Davidson smirked.

Jace Parker Davidson: Words I never thought I would say out loud but when the enemy of my enemy? Well, great things can happen when two people can slide their differences to the backburner for a while. Our agreement has come together around the fact that I will be coming to MVW on March 5th to defend MY LSD Champion belt against a member of Ray’s roster.

Jace paused once again to allow the crowd to react.

Jace Parker Davidson: Not only that but you may see the HOTv and HOW World Championship belt defended there in the near future. Since this arrangement will benefit both MVW and HOW; Ray has allowed me to handpick my opponent. So… the person that will have a chance to win the LSD Championship will be none other than…

Davidson stopped and began to tap his index finger against his chin for effect.

Jace Parker Davidson: …CAPTAIN JACK!


Captain Jack

Jace said emphatically as he slammed his hands down on the desk. He reached out and grabbed hold of the LSD Championship belt. He held it into the air as he leaned forward.

Jace Parker Davidson: You better prepare yourself, you salty pirate fuck, because your fifteen minutes of fame have finally arrived. Unfortunately for you, it’s going to be the most painful fifteen minutes of your entire life. This isn’t a winning lottery ticket for you, this is a one-way ticket straight to Hell.

Davidson placed the Championship belt over his shoulder.

Jace Parker Davidson: Being The Pound For Pound Greatest LSD Champion of All Time means I am qualified in all the many different ways there are to physically harm another human being under LSD rules. Davey Jones’ locker is going to look like a five-star hotel when I am done with you. Don’t worry, though. I will make sure to autograph your neckbrace so that you can tell all the nurses you got your ass beat by THE Jace Parker Davidson while you’re in intensive care. I might be a Villain but I’m not a monster.

Davidson smiled and leaned back in his seat before waving his hand dismissively.

Jace Parker Davidson: See you next Tuesday night in… sigh Topeka, Kansas and enjoy the rest of your show.

The video cut out and the broadcast went back to normal.

Thunderbolt: And Ray McAvay has just confirmed… Jace Parker Davidson will, indeed, defend the High Octane Wrestling LSD title next Tuesday night against Captain Jack.

Rick: Wow. This has all the making of a Rocky-style script.  Captain Jack is the number 5 ranked contender in the Men’s Heartland Division and he’s getting the opportunity of a lifetime next week.

Thunderbolt: Also, we have just received word that ‘The Corporate Predator’ Jill Berg has demanded, and Ray McAvay has booked Amberley Stanton going one-on-one with Victoria McGill!

“Long Haul” Rick Hall leaned into his microphone, barely containing his excitement.

Rick: Ray’s been busy.  This is gonna be a barnburner, for sure!

Thunderbolt: Let’s go back to the ring for our next match.

MATCH #4: The Stevens Dynasty vs. The Monongahelian Stomper and Bobby Starr
In the ring, Heather Cooper commanded attention without effort, her sultry voice echoing in the charged air.

Heather: Ladies and gentlemen, our next match is going to be…

Crowd: ONE FALL!

Heather: Already in the ring.  The Monongahelian Stomper and Bobby Starr!

The crowd erupted into an enthusiastic cheer as the two wrestlers raised their arms.

Heather: And their opponents…

But the atmosphere shifted gears as the opening strains of “Ghost Riders in the Sky” filled the arena and “STEVENS DYNASTY” appeared next on the video screen with a Texas flag waving in the background.


The Stevens Dynasty: Bo Stevens, George Stevens, and Cary Stevens

Heather: …accompanied by the Patriarch of the Stevens Dynasty… Bo Stevens… George Stevens… THEY ARE THE MVW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS… THE STEVENS DYNASTY!

A chorus of jeers greeted the arrival of Bo and George Stevens, flanked by their grizzled patriarch Cary Stevens.

With every heavy beat of the iconic tune, the Stevens men stepped in time, exuding a raw, unapologetic power that sent ripples through the crowd.

Rick: Look at the size of George Stevens, Thunderbolt. That man is a walking mountain!”

Thunderbolt: Indeed he is, Rick. And let’s not forget about Bo. He’s got that rolling cutter that can end matches in an instant.

The Stevens Dynasty approached the ring with a swagger that matched the boldness of their theme song, their towering silhouettes casting long shadows under the bright lights. Cary Stevens barked orders like a general leading his troops into battle, while Bo and George climbed onto the apron, dwarfing the ropes with their massive frames.

As they stepped over the top rope with ease, the crowd’s anticipation reached a fever pitch; they knew they were witnessing the emergence of a fearsome force in MVW. Bo cracked his knuckles menacingly, while George let out a guttural roar that echoed off the walls, sending shivers down the spines of everyone in attendance.

The bell’s final echo was still vibrating in the air when the referee raised the massive arms of Bo and George Stevens, officially heralding the arrival of a new era in MVW. The crowd’s roar, once thunderous for the spectacle unfolding before them, morphed into a collective gasp as the brothers’ faces twisted into snarls. They weren’t satisfied with mere victory; they craved devastation.

Thunderbolt:  The match is over, but the Stevens are not done!

Bo, with a predatory glint in his eye, hoisted The Monongahelian Stomper up before slamming him down with a vicious Rolling Cutter that rattled the canvas. Meanwhile, George, his face an impassive mask of aggression, locked eyes with Bobby Starr, who was struggling to find his bearings. With a terrifying burst of strength, George executed a Texas Sized Slam that left the audience wincing in empathetic pain.

Rick: Wait a minute! Who’s this charging down the ramp?”

Hall’s pitch rose with excitement as two figures sprinted towards the scene of carnage.

Thunderbolt: IT’S NO QUARTER!

Bracken Krueger and Daryn Thompson leapt onto the apron, brimming with righteous fury. Their arrival was like a spark to tinder, igniting the crowd into a frenzy. Without hesitation, they dove between the ropes, meeting the Stevens brothers head-on with a flurry of fists and boots.

Thunderbolt: Here we go!

The brawl was explosive, a maelstrom of violence that saw No Quarter giving as good as they got. Bracken, with his calculated strikes, targeted Bo’s midsection, driving the air from his lungs. Daryn, using his agility, ducked under George’s wild swings to deliver precise, stinging blows.

Rick: Krueger and Thompson are cleaning house!

The arena reverberated with the sounds of flesh striking flesh.

Thunderbolt: Wait.  Now Cary Stevens is on the apron.

Cary Stevens: You want a fight? You’ll get more than you bargained for, you don’t disrespect the Stevens!

Krueger, his knuckles reddened from the fray, squared up, chest heaving.

Bracken Krueger: We ain’t going anywhere, old man.

Daryn, ever the agile striker, bounced on the balls of her feet, eyes locked on the patriarch.

As the screen faded to black to the final commercial break of the evening, the last image seared into the audience’s mind was that of Cary Stevens, jaw set, eyes ablaze, standing toe-to-toe with No Quarter, an old-school showdown brewing in the heart of the squared circle. The viewers at home were left gripping their seats, the collective anticipation hanging heavy in the air like the aftermath of a thunderclap.

Upcoming House Shows
March 1st – Cook Center / Olathe, KS
March 2nd – Del 5ive Event Center / Emporium, KS
March 5th – Landon Arena / Topeka, KS
March 8th – Martinsville High School Gym / Martinsville, IN
March 9th –  Athletics-Recreation Center / Valparaiso, IN
March 10th – Northern Indiana Event Center / Elkhart, IN
March 15th – Clinton High School Gymnasium / Clinton, OK
March 16th – Expo Square Pavilion / Tulsa, OK
March 19th – CEFCU Arena / Normal, IL
March 22nd – Benton Civic Center / Benton, IL
March 23rd – Decatur Civic Center / Decatur, IL
March 24th – Thornton Gymnasium / Aurora, IL
March 30th – Spring Fling – Lake of the Ozarks / Lake of the Ozarks, MO

Thunderbolt: And we are back.  What a show we’ve had tonight.  First off, over thirteen thousand people are here tonight.  Not quite a sellout but it is the largest crowd ever to watch a Missouri Valley Wrestling house show.

Rick: Amazing.  MVW’s come a long way over the past few years.

Thunderbolt: Also… big wins tonight for Surf Express Bro and Ricky Stevens.  Now, let’s go to the ring for our main event.  Heather Cooper, take it away.

MAIN EVENT-Women’s Champion Victoria McGill vs. Amberley Stanton
Heather: Thank you Thunderbolt.  Our main event is going to be…

Crowd: ONE FALL!

The arena lights dimmed, a hush of anticipation sweeping over the charged crowd. Then, the first electrifying chords of “Since You’ve Been Gone” by Kelly Clarkson shattered the silence, igniting an eruption of cheers that shook the venue to its core. Amberley Stanton burst through the curtains, her silhouette framed by a blinding backlight that seemed to herald the arrival of a star destined for glory.

Heather: Introducing first, AMBERLEY STANTON!


Amberley Stanton

Amberley confidently strode down the ramp…  eyes were fixed on the squared circle ahead, a ring that had become both her battlefield. The young talent from Seward, Nebraska, exuded charisma with every step, each one punctuated by the roar of approval from her legion of supporters. There were boos too, scattered amidst the adulation, but they were like fuel to her fire, propelling her forward with even more resolve.

Heather: AND HER OPPONENT…

In stark contrast, the mood shifted perceptibly as “Power” by Kanye West began to throb through the speakers. Jill Berg, the CEO of Jill Berg Enterprises and self-proclaimed ‘Corporate Predator’, appeared at the top of the ramp, flanked by her impeccably dressed security detail. Though diminutive in stature compared to her titanic adversaries, Jill carried herself with a commanding presence that filled the arena, her aura of power palpable even from the nosebleed seats.

Each step she took was measured, purposeful, as if she owned not just the path before her but also the very air through which she moved. The crowd reaction was mixed; some booed the embodiment of corporate dominance while others couldn’t help but respect her undeniable prowess. Jill’s eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the audience and wrestlers alike, silently asserting her dominion over all she surveyed.

But then, the scorching blues riff of Samantha Fish’s “Twisted Ambition” clawed its way into the collective consciousness of the crowd, signaling the imminent entrance of Victoria McGill, the reigning MVW Women’s Champion. This daughter of Killeen, Texas, cut an imposing figure as she strode confidently down the walkway. Standing six feet two inches tall, she towered over most of her contemporaries, her heel persona manifest in every swaggering step.


MVW Women’s Champion
Victoria McGill

Heather: SHE IS REPRESENTING JILL BERG ENTERPRISES… AND SHE IS THE MVW WOMEN’S CHAMPION… VICTORIA McGILL!

Victoria stepped through the ropes with a sneer etched across her face, her gaze sweeping contemptuously across the fans who showered her with a cacophony of jeers. Her arms flexed in a show of force, and she raised the championship belt high above her head—each gesture a declaration of her supremacy within this squared circle universe. The defiance in her posture spoke volumes: here was a woman who would not be easily toppled from her throne, a champion relishing the theatre of conflict about to unfold.

Thunderbolt: And again, Victoria McGill defeats Amberley Stanton.

Rick: Thunderbolt, it’s the familiar format.  Stanton comes out and gives Tori a tough couple minutes but then McGill takes control of the match and ends it with the Gutwrench Facebuster.

Thunderbolt: We’re not done yet!

The arena was still pulsing with the residue of battle when with a sudden burst of power, Victoria McGill delivered a clothesline so ferocious that Amberley Stanton’s body seemed to hover for a split second before gravity remembered its duty and slammed her into the mat with a resounding thud.

But Victoria wasn’t finished; she climbed the ropes with the agility of a panther stalking its prey. When she launched herself into the air for a splash off the top rope, time itself appeared to slow. The crowd held its collective breath, releasing it in a unified gasp as Victoria made contact, the impact reverberating through the arena like a shockwave.

Thunderbolt: Tori McGill is punishing Amberley Stanton here.

Rick: Here comes Carrigan and Miller!

Jill Berg Enterprises’ Sheline Carrigan and Madison Miller stormed down the ramp and slid into the ring with predatory grace, immediately launching an unrelenting assault on the already downed Stanton. The intensity of their strikes echoed through the ring, each blow punctuated by the audience’s growing clamor.

Thunderbolt: IT’S A THREE ON ONE BEATDOWN AND AMBERLEY STANTON IS IN BIG TROUBLE!

Jill Berg watched as she was serenaded with a symphony of boos from the stands as Sheline and Madison reveled in the bedlam they’d created. However… the familiar opening chords of “Heartache Tonight” cut through the cacophony.

Rick: HOLD ON!


Jennifer Colton, Ria, and Miranda DC

Jennifer Colton, alongside PRIME Wrestling’s Ria and The SHOOT Project’s Miranda DC, burst onto the scene. Their sprint to the ring was a blur of determination and just retribution.

Thunderbolt: JENNIFER COLTON, RIA, AND MIRANDA DC ARE HERE!

As they slid under the bottom rope, the crowd detonated into cheers, their earlier frenzy now directed at the avenging trio. What unfolded next was a maelstrom of physical storytelling as all six wrestlers engaged in a whirlwind of punches, kicks, and high-flying maneuvers that turned the ring into a battleground of fierce female warriors.

Jennifer Colton, with her signature technical prowess, locked in the Colton Clutch 2 on Sheline Carrigan, drawing cheers from the crowd as the ‘Canadian Cyborg’ writhed in the center of the ring. Meanwhile, Ria soared through the air, executing a picture-perfect dropkick that sent Madison Miller staggering back. Miranda DC showcased her own high-octane style, launching herself off the turnbuckle with a crossbody that took down both Sheline and Madison, eliciting roars of approval from the electrified fans.

Thunderbolt: That’s all the time we have for tonight’s show.  Next week, Victoria McGill defends the MVW Women’s Title against Jennifer Colton… Jill Berg Enterprises defends the MVW Women’s Tag Team Titles against Laney Harrison and McLean Oswald… AND… Jace Parker Davidson… that’s right… JPD will be here to defend the High Octane Wrestling LSD title against our very own Captain Jack.  We’ll see you next week.

With each wrestler fighting not just for victory but for pride and retribution, the six-woman melee crescendoed to a peak of mayhem. And as the show drew to a close, the crowd was left breathless, their voices hoarse from cheering, their spirits ignited by the spectacle of valor and villainy they had witnessed – a perfect tableau of old-school professional wrestling glory.

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