WELCOME TO THE RETURN OF SUNDAY NIGHT HOSTEL WHICH WILL BE QUICK RESULTS EACH SUNDAY NIGHT UNLESS SAID OTHERWISE.

POST MATCH / SEGMENT: AFTER THE ATTACK TWO WEEKS BACK, WE HEAR FROM MARA JADE MILLER WHO HAS AN ANSWER FOR NADIA ALLEN REGARDING NIGHT OF VENGEANCE III: THE LONG HALLOWEEN.

<<<< >>>>

As Nadia lies on the canvas, Mara Jade Miller is livid. Incensed. Their eye is twitching something rotten, but the Nongender World Ender isn’t done, as they grab a microphone from a stagehand nearby. And quite nastily, too. Once they do, they’re back in the ring, sitting over the fallen body of Nadia Allen.

MARA JADE MILLER: "I am…so sick of you."

Mara pauses. Nadia rolls over, holding her back.

MARA JADE MILLER:  "You’re everywhere. I buy my can of Four Loco to wake me up in the morning and you’re in my head. I walk down the street and see kids going to school and they all have your face. The fucking DOG next door barks, and I swear when he does, he says your name every time. You are EVERYWHERE. Words cannot possibly express how FUCKING sick of you I am. So I hope being thrown though a table speaks for itself."

Nadia looks up, eyes meeting Mara’s as she lays on the ground.

MARA JADE MILLER:  "Nadia, I beat you. I was ready to continue on with my life. But noooo. You had to be all up in my bullshit again like some jealous ex I can’t get rid of, texting me at God knows what fucking hour like ‘u up’. Well guess what, Nadia? NO. I WASN’T up. I’ve moved on. I don’t wanna dance or tango or fuck or whatever it is you want, I wanna kick your ass. I wanna turn you into a paste that it takes the ring crew a special kind of bleach only found on the dark web to remove it. I wanna send you into a coma so bad only an elixir procured in the Himalayas can save you. I wanna crush you into a vapour only bats can smell, and when they do, they DIE."

Nadia and Mara’s eyes meet. The redheaded Soul Shooter fires daggers into the eyes of the Kaiju of Seattle.

MARA JADE MILLER: "Whatever the FUCK it takes at The Long Halloween, I’ll do it. This table for one was only a taste. A sample. A snack. At The Long Halloween, we’re going out to dinner one last time. And this time, YOU are paying."

Mara throws the mic away (like, literally, that thing bursts when it hits the ground) and leaves Nadia as she sits up. Mara backs up the ramp as IDLES’ “Never Fight A Man With A Perm” blares through the speakers. But they never take an eye off each other. They both feel it. Night Of Vengeance 3: The Long Halloween is on the horizon. The final showdown beckons.

BACKSTAGE SEGMENT WITH MARLOW BLU.

<<<< >>>>

The camera cuts backstage to Marlow Blu, leaning against a production crate with her arms folded, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. A smug little smile rests on her lips as she glances toward the camera, looking thoroughly unimpressed by the whole interview process.

MARLOW BLU: “Sooo, Kalista Sawyer.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically before letting out a tiny giggle.

MARLOW BLU: “Okay, first of all, can we talk about how everybody suddenly wants to know what I think about this girl? Like, babe, I get it. I’m interesting. I’m gorgeous. I’ve got personality for days. Obviously, you’re gonna wanna hear what comes outta this pretty little mouth.”

She flashes the camera a cheeky smile before shrugging.

MARLOW BLU: “But Kalista? Hmmm. I’ll give credit where credit is due. She’s got a vibe. She’s got that whole thing going on, and honestly? I kinda respect it. She’s not boring, she’s not trying to be everybody’s favorite little princess, and I can appreciate a girl who walks around like she knows exactly who she is.”

She pauses, tilting her head as her smile turns a little more mischievous.

MARLOW BLU: “Buuuut, sweetheart, there’s a difference between having a vibe and actually being Marlow Blu. And unfortunately for you, you’re stepping into the ring with the girl who’s got the looks, the attitude, AND the talent. Talk about an unfair situation, huh? Aww, poor thing.”

She pouts mockingly, pressing a hand against her chest before bursting into a playful laugh.

MARLOW BLU: “Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not gonna sit here and pretend Kalista’s a pushover, because I don’t think she is. I think she’s got something about her. Something that makes me wanna see what she’s really made of. And honestly? That’s kinda exciting.”

Marlow pushes herself off the crate and steps closer to the camera, her expression turning smug once again.

MARLOW BLU: “But respect doesn’t mean I’m gonna roll out the red carpet for you, babe. It doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you steal my spotlight, and it definitely doesn’t mean I’m gonna be holding your hand when that bell rings.”

She blows a kiss toward the camera.

MARLOW BLU: “So, Kalista Sawyer, bring your attitude. Bring your confidence. Bring that cute little vibe I happen to appreciate. Because I’m bringing ME, and trust me, darling, that’s already more than enough trouble for one girl to handle.”

She winks.

MARLOW BLU: “See you in the ring, pretty girl. Try not to get too distracted by me. I know I’m hard to resist.”

Marlow giggles, adjusts her hair, and struts out of frame as the camera fades to black.

SEGMENTS WORDS TO EAT YOUR HEART OUT TO.

<<<< >>>>

The arena lights go out suddenly. A path down the ramp gradually lights up in the form of Forget-Me-Not petals. It’s a blonde in a pink leather jacket and heart-shaped sunglasses who enters the ring. She has a microphone in her hand. The shades tilt up to reveal it was not MARLOW BLU but rather her opponent for the night, KALISTA SAWYER.

KALISTA SAWYER:  "I hope she appreciates the aesthetic, I hope she believes what they say about imitation is true! Maybe she’ll be so flattered that she would…"

In her jacket pocket, Kalista pulls out a blade. Her focus would linger on it. 

KALISTA SAWYER:  "Maybe she’ll be the one to let me into her heart. Maybe she’ll be the one who would let me in. Or? Maybe she won’t be. It will happen one day soon. I’m patient, I will wait. I might even chase it if it gets to that point. All I’m asking is for someone to hurt themselves badly, just once and just for me. It wouldn’t take much. Let me have a little taste of something that comes from your heart and I promise to give you mine! Hurt yourself badly just once for me, and no one will ever get to hurt you again."

She paused to give a longing but genuine look directly into the camera. 

KALISTA SAWYER:  "Is that really too much to ask? I’ve been made fun of for it before but I don’t think so! I still have hope that as extreme a romantic gesture that is, it will happen for me." 

A sign for the Glory Champion, MILLICENT CHAPEL would catch her attention. Kalista would lean against the ropes to fixate on it for a bit. 

KALISTA SAWYER: "I’m a patient person, I’ve been  well behaved since coming to SHW. My love story will be told. The one for me will find me. Maybe soon I’ll have to look harder but right now I truly believe they’ll come to me. Maybe though, they need a little extra incentive! Marlow, Millie, whoever you’re gonna prove to be. I hope you’ll bleed for love but if not? I’m sure you’d bleed for glory if not gold. Right here, in front of the live audience, in front of viewers on Shudder, in front of these cameras, in front of the world. I am KALISTA SAWYER and I promise that someone, maybe even everyone will bleed for me."

PRE-TAPPING SEGMENT FROM THE RAVENSHADE MANOR.

<<<< >>>>

The camera rolls through the familiar halls of Ravenshade Manor. Rain can be seen striking the windows as the hesitant cameraman slowly makes his way through the corridor. On previous visits, he had found most of the doors closed, but this time, several have been left open. A faint light spills across the floor at the end of the hallway. The cameraman approaches cautiously as he hears something echoing from the final room.

As the cameraman enters, Morrigan Ravenshade can be seen standing beside a wooden table. Several papers are scattered across its surface, while a broken glass lies shattered on the floor. Morrigan has her back to the camera, her hands firmly planted on the table and her head lowered. For the moment, she doesn't acknowledge his presence.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE: "Do you know what I find amusing? The lengths people will go to just so they're seen. Shouting, threatening, interrupting things that have absolutely nothing to do with them, all because they cannot stand the thought of being forgotten."

Morrigan slowly raises her head, turning towards the cameraman. Her familiar smile crosses her lips, although there is something noticeably different about it.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE:  "And that brings me to you, doesn't it, Bam? Oh, darling, you have been quite the nuisance recently, haven't you? Your name has been mentioned, your antics laid out on the table, and I was quite happy to let you carry on making a fool of yourself. Then you went and did what you did last week."

Morrigan looks away from the camera, letting out a short laugh while running a hand through her hair.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE:  "Last week, I stepped into that ring to wrestle. That's what I've come here to do. I had El Buho standing across from me, a match to compete in, and an opportunity to prove why Morrigan Ravenshade belongs here. Then, because of some misguided notion, you came down and interfered."

She stops for a moment, her smile slowly fading.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE:  "Why, Bam? No, honestly, I want to know. Was I not paying you enough attention? Did it bother you that I had something important to do that didn't involve you? Or are you really that simple-minded that you need to have your name associated with mine?"

Morrigan suddenly strikes the table with the palm of her hand, causing the cameraman to jump.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE: "Because I am rather tired of this shit..."

Morrigan's voice rises noticeably. She stares into the camera before looking away, breathing heavily.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE:  "I have worked too damn hard to get back here. I've spent years fighting, training, sacrificing, and rebuilding myself into the woman standing before you. I didn't come all this way to have some arrogant bastard decide that my matches are his personal fucking playground!"

Morrigan pushes herself away from the table, knocking a chair over in the process. She begins pacing across the room, her movements noticeably more restless than usual.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE:  "You know what makes it so much worse? You probably think it's so funny. You probably walked away from last week feeling rather pleased with yourself, didn't you? Thinking you got under my skin and made a statement in the process."

She takes a step before turning towards the camera.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE:  "Well, congratulations, Bam. You did it."

For a moment, Morrigan simply watches the cameraman. Her expression shifts as she realizes just how much emotion she's allowed herself to show. She slowly closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and attempts to regain her composure.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE:  "Well, this is what you wanted, isn't it? For the Mourning Saint to lose what little patience she has? To prove that beneath all the candles, the prayers, and the pretty words, there's still a monster waiting to be unleashed?"

An evil smile crosses her lips.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE:  "Understand this, though. My patience was never permission, and my silence was never weakness. Alex Montes stood across from me and fought. He earned my respect, even in defeat. But you? You couldn't even give me the courtesy of finishing my own match. And you call yourself a competitor? What a joke."

Morrigan clasps her hands together, her fingers tightening as she looks into the camera.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE: "You wanted my attention, Bam? You have it, every last ounce of it. You made this personal, and when we finally stand across from one another, I don't want to hear your excuses. No interference, no distractions, just you and me."

She pauses as her expression grows colder.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE: "I've always believed everyone deserves their chance to confess. But as it stands, I'm beginning to think I've been too merciful. So keep running your mouth. Keep pretending what you did last week was harmless. Sooner or later, that bell will ring, and we'll meet in that ring."

Morrigan moves closer until her face fills the frame.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE: "And when your final hymn begins, darling, I want everyone in that arena to hear it."

Morrigan steps away, walking towards the door before stopping and looking back over her shoulder.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE: "And Bam, darling, if you really want to see what happens when the Mourning Saint loses her patience..."

A small smile returns.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE: "Be careful what you wish for..."

Morrigan exits the room, leaving the cameraman alone with the scattered papers, broken glass, and overturned chair.

The screen fades to black.

A single church bell rings.

MORRIGAN RAVENSHADE

THE MOURNING SAINT

PATIENCE IS NOT FORGIVENESS.

HER LAST HYMN...

SEGMENT: THE GLORY CHAMPION MILLICENT CHAPÈL ANNOUNCES AN PURE GLORY OPEN CHALLENGE FOR NIGHT OF VENGEANCE III: THE LONG HALLOWEEN TO ANYONE IN THE WRESTLING WORLD.

<<<< >>>>

The camera cuts backstage to a pristine dressing room, where SHW GLORY CHAMPION MILLICENT CHAPÈL sits before a vanity mirror, carefully inspecting her reflection while an attendant makes the final adjustments to her immaculate appearance. Her championship rests on a velvet cushion beside her, its gold plates gleaming beneath the bright studio lights. Gone is the unruly deathmatch girl who once thrived in blood-soaked chaos. In her place sits a woman who considers herself the very definition of refinement and believes everyone else in professional wrestling should be embarrassed by comparison.

Millicent rises, lifts the GLORY Championship from its cushion, and settles the title over her shoulder before turning toward the camera. She runs a manicured finger along one of the gold plates, allowing the silence to linger as though even the production crew should be grateful for her attention.

MILLICENT CHAPÈL: "Look at this championship. Look at what it represents. Excellence. Elegance. Standards. Things that have become increasingly difficult to find in this industry, particularly among the people who mistake bleeding on the canvas for having a personality."

She adjusts the championship on her shoulder and offers a perfectly rehearsed smile.

MILLICENT CHAPÈL:: "I have spent far too long watching this business celebrate mediocrity simply because it comes wrapped in barbed wire, covered in bruises, or accompanied by some ridiculous little sob story. And frankly, I find it exhausting. I have elevated myself. I have refined myself. I have taken control of my own image, my own career, and my own future. Now, it is time to elevate this championship to the level it deserves."

Millicent steps forward, the expression on her face sharpening as she delivers her announcement.

MILLICENT CHAPÈL: "At NIGHT OF VENGEANCE III: THE LONG HALLOWEEN, I will host a PURE GLORY OPEN CHALLENGE. That's right. Anyone. Any wrestler, from any promotion, anywhere in the wrestling world, who believes they possess the talent, discipline, and refinement required to challenge me is welcome to step forward."

She pauses, tilting her head with an almost pitying smile.

MILLICENT CHAPÈL: "But do understand something. This is not an invitation to make a spectacle of yourself. It is an opportunity to stand across the ring from the finest version of a Glory Champion this industry has ever seen. Bring your credentials. Bring your accomplishments. Bring whatever delusions of grandeur have convinced you that you belong in my ring."

Millicent raises the championship slightly, ensuring the camera captures its gleaming faceplate.

MILLICENT CHAPÈL: "Because when that bell rings, there will be no excuses, no shortcuts, and certainly no sympathy. There will only be me, my championship, and the inevitable realization that you are simply not good enough."

She smiles sweetly, then turns away from the camera as though the announcement is already beneath her.

MILLICENT CHAPÈL: "Do try to look presentable when you lose."

Millicent places the championship back over her shoulder and walks out of frame, leaving the camera lingering on the empty vanity and the discarded traces of her former life. The challenge is open. The stage is set. And at NIGHT OF VENGEANCE III: THE LONG HALLOWEEN, anyone in the wrestling world can step forward to challenge the Glory Champion but only one woman intends to decide whether they deserve to stand in her spotlight.

POST MATCH

But the bell does nothing to calm Bam's fury. He refuses to release the STF, dragging Morrigan back toward the center of the ring whenever she tries to crawl toward the ropes. Officials rush in, but Bam shakes off their first attempts to separate him, cranking the hold tighter and keeping Morrigan trapped as she desperately struggles to escape. When the referee finally forces Bam to break the submission, he doesn't retreat. He hauls Morrigan upright and drives her back down with DOUBLE SHOT, leaving her sprawled across the canvas.

Bam paces around her, chest heaving, before dropping beside her and wrenching her arm back into another painful hold. Security floods the ring, grabbing at Bam's shoulders and trying to pry him away, but he violently shrugs off their first attempt and turns his attention toward the camera. His expression is wild, his voice furious as he addresses El Búho directly, declaring that what everyone has just witnessed is only a glimpse of the future waiting for him. He promises to see El Búho at NIGHT OF VENGEANCE III, punctuating the threat with a final shove that sends Morrigan rolling onto her side. It takes several officials to finally force Bam away from his opponent. Morrigan remains down as medical staff hurry to check on her, while Bam continues to struggle against security, pointing toward the camera and keeping his eyes fixed on the man he wants next. 

SEGMENT: SHUDDER TV CHAMPION BIANCA REED & BROOKE MAYFIELD MEET IN RING WITH LARUA STARK FOR A CONTRACT SIGNING AHARD OF THERE SHUDDER TV CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH AT NIGHT OF VENGEANCE III: THE LONG HALLOWEEN.

<<<< >>>>

The scene opens inside the SHW ring, where a table, two chairs, a pair of pens, and the official contract for the upcoming SHUDDER TV Championship match await. The championship itself rests on a stand beside the table, its plates gleaming beneath the arena lights. Laura Stark stands between the two empty chairs, prepared to oversee the proceedings. The champion, BIANCA REED, is the first to take her seat. She places the SHUDDER TV Championship on the table in front of her, leans back, and looks toward the entrance with an expression of barely concealed irritation. She has spent years fighting for recognition, and she has no intention of letting her reign become another chapter in a career where somebody else takes the spotlight.

Then comes the challenger. BROOKE MAYFIELD. THE MAD KITTEN.

Brooke strolls toward the ring with an almost innocent smile, waving cheerfully to the crowd as though she has no intention of causing trouble. She slides into the ring, notices Bianca's championship on the table, and immediately reaches out to touch one of the gold plates. Bianca snatches the title away before Brooke's fingers can make contact.

BIANCA REED: "Touch your own shit when you actually win something."

Brooke slowly turns toward the champion, her smile widening.

BROOKE MAYFIELD: "Oh, Bianca. You really are adorable when you're threatened."

BIANCA REED: "Threatened? By you? I've spent ten years fighting people who were bigger, stronger, faster, and a hell of a lot smarter than you. You're a spoiled little brat who thinks scratching somebody and throwing a tantrum counts as a personality."

BROOKE MAYFIELD: "And yet, here I am. Number one contender. Sitting across from you. Isn't it funny how all those years of hard work have led you to the same place as a girl who looks like she wandered in from the neighborhood and decided to ruin your life?"

The crowd reacts as Bianca leans forward, her jaw tightening.

BIANCA REED: "You didn't earn your place. You cheated your way here. There's a difference, sweetheart."

BROOKE MAYFIELD: "Sweetheart? Oh, don't do that. Don't pretend you're above me. You're a bitter little veteran who finally got a championship and now thinks it makes her somebody. You know what I see when I look at you? A woman who's terrified that the moment she loses that belt, everybody will remember she's been overlooked for a reason."

Bianca rises from her chair.

BIANCA REED: "You don't know a goddamn thing about what I've been through."

BROOKE MAYFIELD: "I know you're short on patience, short on options, and short enough that I could probably scratch your eyes out without even lifting my arm."

The crowd erupts. Laura Stark immediately steps between them, placing a hand against Bianca's chest as the champion attempts to move around the table.

LAURA STARK: "Ladies! We are here to sign a contract. Let's keep this professional."

BIANCA REED: "Then tell her to shut her fucking mouth before I shut it for her."

Brooke laughs, resting her elbows on the table.

BROOKE MAYFIELD: "There she is. The real Bianca Reed. All that talk about being a champion, and underneath it you're just another angry little bitch who can't stand that someone younger, prettier, and much more interesting is getting attention."

Bianca lunges across the table. Laura barely manages to catch her before the champion can reach Brooke. Brooke springs out of her chair, laughing as she kicks the table aside and charges forward herself. The contract slides across the canvas, pens scattering beneath the bottom rope as both women attempt to tear through Laura to reach one another.

LAURA STARK: "SECURITY! GET OUT HERE!"

Several SHW security personnel rush into the ring. Two seize Bianca around the waist and pull her toward one corner while another pair restrain Brooke near the opposite ropes. Neither woman stops fighting. Bianca strains against the guards, pointing furiously across the ring, while Brooke claws at the arms holding her back and tries to break free.

BROOKE MAYFIELD: "LET ME GO! I'M GOING TO RIP THAT BITCH APART!"

BIANCA REED: "GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME! I'LL BREAK EVERY FUCKING BONE IN HER BODY!"

Security drags them farther apart, but the insults continue to fly. Brooke suddenly slips one arm free and charges again, forcing the guards to wrestle her backward. Bianca breaks loose from one security officer long enough to swing around the table, nearly reaching Brooke before two more guards tackle her back toward the turnbuckles. The crowd roars as the ring dissolves into chaos as Laura Stark retrieves the contract from the canvas, visibly furious, and raises it above her head.

LAURA STARK: "ENOUGH! YOU TWO ARE GOING TO SIGN THIS CONTRACT, WHETHER YOU LIKE EACH OTHER OR NOT!"

The shouting gradually subsides; not because either woman has calmed down, but because security has finally established enough distance between them for Laura to approach the table. Bianca is escorted back to her chair first. She snatches the pen from Laura's hand and signs her name with a furious slash, never taking her eyes off Brooke. The SHUDDER TV Championship remains firmly tucked beneath her other arm.

Brooke is then dragged back toward the table. She looks at the signature, picks up the pen, and signs her name with an exaggerated flourish. Before putting it down, she draws a little cat face beside her signature.

Bianca sees it.

BIANCA REED: "You think this is funny?"

BROOKE MAYFIELD: "No, Bianca. I think it's going to be hilarious."

Brooke suddenly shoves the table toward Bianca. Bianca catches it before it can strike her, pushes it aside, and charges forward once more. Security immediately closes ranks, separating the two women as the crowd rises to its feet. Bianca strains against the guards, championship clutched against her chest. Brooke is restrained across the ring, still wearing that infuriating smile, though her eyes never leave the champion.

Laura Stark holds up the signed contract as the camera captures both women fighting against their restraints.

LAURA STARK: "IT IS OFFICIAL! AT NIGHT OF VENGEANCE III: THE LONG HALLOWEEN, BIANCA REED DEFENDS THE SHUDDER TV CHAMPIONSHIP AGAINST BROOKE MAYFIELD!"

The announcement sends the arena into another roar. Security finally begins escorting Brooke out of the ring, but she continues struggling to turn back toward Bianca. The champion, meanwhile, raises her title high above the guards' shoulders, making absolutely certain her challenger understands what is at stake. Brooke points at the championship one last time before security disappears with her through the curtain while Bianca remains in the ring, breathing heavily, her knuckles white around the title... And now? The contract is signed. The championship is on the line. And after tonight, neither woman has any reason to believe their match will end with a simple handshake.

SEGMENT: TAKING BETS BETWEEN MATCHES.

<<<< >>>>

Backstage, the camera finds Silas Ramero slumped in a folding chair, an ice pack resting across his shoulders and one of the Sinister Tag Team Championships balanced on his thigh. His expression is sour enough to curdle milk. The bruising from his match with Jerrika is still fresh, and he looks thoroughly unimpressed with the evening's developments. Standing beside him is Lukas York, the other half of Modern Day Violence, already dressed and ready for his upcoming match against Bella Townshend. Lukas adjusts his wrist tape, glances down at his partner, and breaks into a grin that immediately tells Silas he is about to hear something he doesn't want to hear.

LUKAS YORK: "So. JERRIKA, huh?"

Silas slowly turns his head toward him.

SILAS ROMERO: "Don't."

LUKAS YORK: "No, no, I just think it's fascinating. The great Hipster Hercules. The Strong Style guy. The man who can throw somebody across the ring seventeen different ways. Completely dismantled because a woman flips her hair at him."

SILAS ROMERO: "I wasn't dismantled."

LUKAS YORK: "You lost."

SILAS ROMERO: "I am aware of the result, Lukas. Thank you."

LUKAS YORK: "And you lost because you couldn't concentrate."

Silas adjusts the ice pack on his shoulders, visibly regretting every decision that has led to this conversation.

SILAS ROMERO: "Okay, first of all, there is a difference between losing concentration and having to stand across from a woman who looks like that and somehow pretend you're not noticing. I'm only human."

Lukas stares at him for a moment before letting out a short, disbelieving laugh.

LUKAS YORK: "You're unbelievable."

SILAS ROMERO: "I'm honest."

LUKAS YORK: "You're an idiot. I'm about to go out there and wrestle Bella Townshend, and I can promise you that her looks aren't going to stop me from winning."

Silas raises an eyebrow, finally showing a little interest.

SILAS ROMERO: "Oh, really?"

LUKAS YORK: "Really."

SILAS ROMERO: "So you're telling me that when Bella starts doing her little chaotic punk-rock routine, getting in your face, distracting you, trying to get inside your head, you're just going to ignore all of it?"

LUKAS YORK: "I'm telling you that I'm going to beat her."

SILAS ROMERO: "That's not what I asked."

LUKAS YORK:"And I'm telling you that I don't need a lecture on distractions from the guy who just got outsmarted by Jerrika."

Silas's expression hardens. He slowly lifts the Sinister Tag Team Championship off his thigh and sets it beside him, leaning forward in his chair.

SILAS ROMERO: "You know what? Let's bet."

Lukas stops adjusting his wrist tape.

LUKAS YORK: "I'm listening."

SILAS ROMERO: "You go out there, you wrestle Bella Townshend, and if you lose, you're buying the drinks."

Lukas immediately smirks.

LUKAS YORK: "And if I win?"

SILAS ROMERO: "I buy the drinks."

LUKAS YORK: "All of them?"

SILAS ROMERO: "Don't get greedy."

LUKAS YORK: "You just offered to pay for my drinks if I win. I think I've earned the right to be a little greedy."

SILAS ROMERO: "Do you want the bet or not?"

Lukas extends his hand.

LUKAS YORK: "Deal."

Silas shakes it, although neither man looks particularly pleased to be touching the other.

SILAS ROMERO: "Enjoy your match."

LUKAS YORK: "Enjoy sitting there thinking about JERRIKA."

SILAS ROMERO: "Get out."

Lukas laughs as he turns toward the corridor leading to the entrance, checking his wrist tape one final time. Silas settles back into his chair, retrieves the ice pack, and watches his partner leave with an expression that suggests he is already preparing to enjoy the possibility of Lukas being wrong. The camera lingers on the Sinister Tag Team Championship beside Silas before cutting away.

POST MATCH SEGMENT

<<<< >>>>

Lisa rises slowly as Jessi returns to the ring, the two challengers standing over the fallen champions while the crowd reacts to the statement they have just made. Jayla slides back inside and kneels beside Colbie, checking on her partner before helping her sit up. They move from the ring as the camera pans to across the ring to where Lisa keeps her eyes fixed on Jayla, making no effort to hide the fact that she has just pinned the American Horror Champion's partner while standing one victory away from challenging for the SHW World Championship herself.

With everyone still getting their bearings, and through ragged breaths, Lisa finds herself in charge of a mic.

LISA SELDON: "Before we get started I want to make it abundantly clear that I have zero issues with Jayla. She seems nice, she's laughed at several of my jokes, she's got thighs like a Russian gymnast. These are all good things. And it's such a shame that we have to keep meeting in the house of injuries and torture and not… like… a wine tasting or community garden or a meditation retreat around the highlands and islands."

She drops a big, overwrought sigh.

LISA SELDON: "But sadly that's not our lot in life, because when I look at you, I don't see someone I have a lot of time for. I see regret, I see shame. I see… a missed opportunity."

Lisa stands on the ropes, looming over her both of the Champions.

LISA SELDON: "At Rapture 2: Let’s get Raptured Again, I came bitterly close. And I’m not trying to imply you didn’t deserve your shot - I mean you made the most of it. I’m just saying the night you won that shot I got double teamed harder than a JERRIKA on pay day, so forgive me if I’ve still got some doubts."

A good portion of the crowd make it clear they do not agree.

LISA SELDON: "So the next time we meet, we’re putting those thoughts to rest. No partners, no third wheels. Just you and I, one on one. Either you finally get one over me in the one place you never have, or get to right some wrongs and take my place as your World Champion. Either way, I’m excited. Hope you are too."

With that, Lisa throws the mic down towards the Champions as her  theme “Fear of Dying” by Jack Off Jill begins to replay from the speakers. Jessi moves towards Lisa as the camera fades to black; ending the final episode before NIGHT OF VENGEANCE III: THE LONG HALLOWEEN.