This is gonna hurt...

Vivint Smart Home Arena
Salt Lake City, Utah
August 13, 2020

The camera scans a mostly-empty arena, populated only by a few crew members in polo shirts emblazoned with the PWN logo on the sleeves. As it pans to the left, toward the entrance ramp, a lone figure can be spotted, sitting in one of the front row seats just to the left of the ramp. The lone figure in question is none other than the PWN Global Joshi Champion, Ebony Arceri-Dickenson, who has her beautiful white leather championship belt draped over her shoulder, a stark contrast to her standard black attire. The camera moves in closer, and as she takes notice, her crimson-painted lips curl upwards into a smile.

Ebony: Onslaught…

She stands up, the smile fading, if only slightly as her chocolate eyes stare into the lens and her left hand clutches her championship belt.

Ebony: Defined as a fierce or destructive attack.

She scoffs, nodding her head as she waves her free hand in a dismissive gesture.

Ebony: Yeah, yeah… big deal. I’ve proven I can read from a dictionary. But in the few months that Ian and I have been a tag team, we’ve more than proven that we live up to the name. The brutality that my husband brings every time he steps through those ropes has done more than show that he’s earned the Horrorcore Championship that he has wrapped around his waist. And now…

She looks down at the Global Joshi Championship, her black nails clicking as they make contact with the center plate as she smiles with pride.

Ebony: I finally have a championship of my own to show that Ian isn’t the only championship-caliber member of our team.

She returns her gaze to the camera, winking as she clicks her tongue.

Ebony: Time after time, people have talked down to us, and tried to brush us aside like we’re nothing, and time after time, we’ve stepped up and proven them wrong. Whether it’s one on one, or as a team, we’ve faced everyone with the same intensity and desire that we’ve always had, and we have no intention of ever slowing down. As long as we have these belts around our waists, we will continue to fight like hell to show the world exactly why WE are champions.

But tomorrow night, my husband and I will combine our skills against a man that once touted himself as the only one truly worthy of being the first to lay claim to PWN’s top prize, only to come away from the tournament empty-handed. Meanwhile, his partner, the one that is now the number one contender for that very same championship, seems more concerned with the ass-kicking he received at the hands of my husband.

She pauses, closing her eyes as she chuckles and shakes her head.

Ebony: Oh, Graham… I haven’t forgotten what happened to the last person that said they were going to lay my husband out, but that’s for him to address. Instead, I’m going to point out something you said shortly after this little contest was announced.

She taps her chin, pursing her lips as she recalls the words spoken.

Ebony: “And against this fucking team, we will be victorious.”

Her recitation is punctuated with air quotes. As she finishes, she smirks, rolling her eyes.

Ebony: Yeah, tell that to the last team that stood across the ring from us.

She shakes her head once again.

Ebony: If you can’t even get on the same page as your partner, then explain to me just how in the blue hell you expect to stand against not only a married couple, but a team that has never NOT faced their opponents on a unified front?

She shrugs her shoulders.

Ebony: Spoiler alert, Graham… you couldn’t get the job last time you squared off against a Dickenson. This time, you’re facing both of us. If you keep this up, you’re going to wind up as pie crust. And Jacob, I don’t know what you’ve got going on, but I hope you don’t leave your partner hanging tomorrow night. Because I’d hate to have to feel even an ounce of pity for what’s going to happen once that bell rings.

Ebony shakes her head, a disappointed sigh pushing through her throat as she turns around, heading toward the nearest exit as the scene fades to black.