The camera comes back ringside and the mood flips into something dangerous. Crew members slide ladders into position like they’re stocking weapons—one leaned against the barricade, another laid flat near the timekeeper’s area, and two more already inside the ring. Above it all, hanging from the rig in the center of the arena lights, the UTA Tag Team Championship titles glint like the cruelest ornaments imaginable.
John Phillips: “Holiday Heist time! Six teams, no rules, and to win you have to climb the ladder and pull down both Tag Team Championships!”
Mark Bravo: “Both belts, JP! No half measures! You gotta steal the whole vault!”
The lights dim, a wash of red-and-gold hits the stage, and the first theme of the match slams through the speakers.
Red, white, and blue strobes ripple across the entrance as U.S.A steps out—Jaxson Ryder leading with a hand over his heart and a confident salute, Carter Durant bouncing on the balls of his feet like the ramp is a starting block.
Jaxson points to the crowd and nods, soaking in the chant. Carter points up at the hanging titles, then back at himself, jaw set—already looking like he’s calculating angles and distance.
John Phillips: “U.S.A is first out—Jaxson Ryder and Carter Durant! Two men with speed, heart, and the kind of athletic burst that can change a ladder match in a second!”
Mark Bravo: “Carter Durant’s gonna try to take flight tonight. Somebody better file a flight plan with the FAA.”
They head down the ramp together—Jaxson slapping hands, steady and focused, while Carter jogs a few steps ahead, pacing himself like he can’t stand still. At ringside, Carter glances at the ladders stacked near the apron and taps one with his knuckles like he’s testing a weapon.
Jaxson hops to the apron first, holds the ropes open, and Carter springs up beside him with a quick hop, landing light. Both men step through the ropes and immediately look skyward, eyes locked on the gold hanging above them.
John Phillips: “It’s not about pinfalls. It’s not about submissions. It’s about climbing and taking what’s hanging above that ring.”
Mark Bravo: “And you only win when you take both. You can’t just grab one and call it a night. That second belt is where people get hurt.”
U.S.A stands center-ring, pointing up at the championships. Carter paces once, then plants himself in the corner, staring down the ramp like he’s daring the next team to come out faster than him.
The crowd keeps buzzing as their music fades, and the lights dip again for the next entrance.
A pulsing, digital “startup” tone hits the arena—like a console booting up—and the crowd shifts into a louder, curious buzz as the stage lights strobe in clean, neon patterns.
“Press Start” kicks in, and Next Level bursts through the curtain—Theo Sparks moving like he’s already mid-speedrun, pointing to the hard cam with a grin and throwing up an exaggerated “start” gesture, while Dex Raines follows a step behind, quiet, hood up for a beat, eyes scanning the ring like it’s a puzzle he intends to solve.
Theo bounces at the top of the ramp and shouts something off-mic that gets a mix of cheers and laughs—then he turns and pumps both fists like he’s urging the crowd to “level up” with him. Dex doesn’t play to the fans. He just watches the ladders. Watches U.S.A in the ring. Watches the belts hanging above the center.
John Phillips: “Next Level is here—Theo Sparks and Dex Raines! Two men who treat this like an algorithm… and tonight, the only objective is to climb and retrieve both titles!”
Mark Bravo: “Theo’s all energy, Dex is all calculation. That’s a dangerous combo in a ladder match—one guy distracts you, the other guy deletes you.”
Theo leads them down the ramp with a little hop-step rhythm like he’s running a victory animation early. Dex stays close, shoulders tight, taking everything in with that dry, unimpressed stare.
As they reach ringside, Theo points up at the belts and nods fast like he’s already calling the shot. Dex glances at the ladder leaning against the barricade, then taps it once with his fingertips—testing sturdiness like a developer checking hardware.
Theo hops up onto the apron and throws a playful salute to U.S.A. Carter Durant smirks back, but Jaxson Ryder stays locked in. Dex steps up slower, then slides between the ropes without flourish.
Theo springs through and immediately climbs onto the second rope, spreading his arms wide to the crowd like the ring is his streaming stage. Dex, meanwhile, walks to the center and looks straight up—eyes tracing the exact line from mat to titles.
John Phillips: “No room for hesitation in this match. You blink, you’re on the floor.”
Mark Bravo: “And you know Theo’s gonna try something stupid before the bell even rings.”
Theo drops down, still bouncing, and points to Dexter like he’s introducing the final boss. Dex just gives a subtle, almost invisible smirk—then turns his focus back to the ladder stacks around ringside as the lights dip once again.
The arena lighting shifts into a colder, more aggressive wash—steel-gray and deep crimson—and a heavy riff hits the speakers like a sledgehammer. The crowd noise changes too: a ripple of boos, then a rising roar as the next team steps into view.
Iron Dominion.
Gideon Graves emerges first, broad shoulders filling the entranceway like he was built in a mill and forged in anger. Beside him, Magnus Wolfe walks with a predator’s patience—eyes narrowed, jaw set, wearing that smirk like he already knows where the pain is going to start.
They don’t pose. They don’t play to the crowd. Gideon just stares down the ramp like it’s a road to demolition. Magnus glances at the ring, then deliberately rolls his neck, cracking it once, twice—already thinking about joints and leverage.
John Phillips: “And here comes the power—Iron Dominion! Gideon Graves and Magnus Wolfe are not here for highlights… they’re here to break bodies!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s the kind of team that doesn’t climb ladders—JP, they make other people fall off ladders.”
Gideon starts down the ramp with heavy, methodical steps. Magnus keeps pace at his shoulder, eyes darting—watching U.S.A, watching Next Level, watching where the ladders are placed, like he’s already mapping out who to cripple first.
At ringside, Gideon stops near a ladder leaned against the barricade. He doesn’t pick it up. He just puts one massive hand on it and shoves—hard—sending it clattering down to the floor with a loud metallic bang that makes everyone in the ring flinch.
John Phillips: “That’s a message.”
Mark Bravo: “That’s Gideon Graves saying, ‘This is my furniture now.’”
Magnus steps up onto the apron first, looking into the ring like he’s studying prey. Gideon climbs up slower, then steps through the ropes and immediately squares up with the nearest bodies—Carter Durant and Theo Sparks both instinctively back off a half-step.
Inside the ring, Gideon paces once and stops center, looking up at the titles like they’re a prize he intends to rip down with his bare hands. Magnus leans into the ropes and smirks at Jaxson Ryder, then glances at Dex Raines like he’s already decided which limb he wants.
John Phillips: “Iron Dominion changes the entire equation. You can’t ignore them, you can’t out-muscle them, and you can’t let them control the pace.”
Mark Bravo: “And in a ladder match, pace control means one thing—who gets to decide when you hit the ground.”
Graves turns and cracks his knuckles. Wolfe rolls his shoulders and keeps smiling. The crowd grows louder, sensing the collision coming… and the lights drop again for the next entrance.
The stage lights flash to a bold, fast rhythm and the arena surges with cheers as a familiar, high-energy theme hits. The tempo of the room lifts—because everyone knows what comes with this team: speed, swagger, and the kind of aerial insanity that turns a ladder match into a highlight reel.
Velocity Vanguard bursts through the curtain—Tyler Cruz spinning in place at the top of the ramp, clapping in time with the crowd’s rhythm, while Jet Lawson points to the sky and then to the ring like he’s already got a flight path picked out.
Tyler leans toward the hard cam and grins, mouthing something quick and cocky. Jet bounces on his toes, rolling his shoulders, eyes flicking between the ladders and the hanging gold like he’s visualizing the climb before he even touches the first rung.
John Phillips: “Velocity Vanguard is here! Tyler Cruz and Jet Lawson—two of the fastest, most fearless teams in the UTA!”
Mark Bravo: “If there’s a ladder standing upright tonight, I promise you one of these two is going to jump off it like it owes them money.”
They head down the ramp together, slapping hands and feeding off the energy. Tyler starts a clap rhythm with the front row and the crowd follows instantly, the sound echoing through the Allstate Arena. Jet breaks off for a second to tap the top of the barricade and spring up onto it for a heartbeat—just to show he can—before hopping down and sliding right back into stride.
At ringside, Tyler crouches and points at a ladder leaned near the apron like he’s calling his shot. Jet nods once, then looks into the ring—eyes narrowing as he spots Gideon Graves and Magnus Wolfe already posted up like bouncers at the door of violence.
Tyler hops onto the apron, wiping the soles of his boots on the edge out of habit, then steps through. Jet follows with a quick spring to the apron and a smooth entry, immediately pacing the far side of the ring like he’s testing space.
Tyler climbs the second rope and throws his arms out wide, soaking in the cheer—then points up at the belts and makes a little “come down here” motion with his fingers like he’s summoning them.
John Phillips: “Velocity Vanguard has been right on the edge of breaking through for months. Tonight, with six teams and no rules, this might be the perfect storm.”
Mark Bravo: “Or the worst storm—because Gideon Graves is standing right there and he looks like he wants to throw somebody into the North Pole.”
Jet steps closer to the center of the ring and meets Gideon’s stare for a moment—no fear, just calculation—then he turns his head and looks at Tyler like they’re silently syncing timing.
The crowd noise keeps building as the music fades, and the lights dim again for the next entrance.
The arena lighting shifts—darker, richer—then snaps into a sharp, imperial red wash. A heavy, ominous beat rolls through the building and the reaction is immediate: boos. Loud, unified, relentless boos.
The Empire’s theme—“Sanctify Me”—hits, and Selena Vex steps through the curtain first with a smug, practiced grin, chin lifted like she’s walking into a room she already owns. Beside her, Rosa Delgado emerges with a colder energy—tight shoulders, focused stare, hands flexing like she’s already feeling for that left arm she loves to dismantle.
Selena pauses at the top of the ramp and soaks in the noise like it’s applause. She blows a sarcastic kiss into the crowd and then points at the ring, laughing like this whole match is beneath her.
Rosa doesn’t stop. She doesn’t smile. She just keeps her eyes on the ring and walks forward with purpose, letting Selena’s theatrics happen beside her like background static.
John Phillips: “And here comes The Empire—Selena Vex and Rosa Delgado! They’re already getting showered with boos, and you know they love every second of it.”
Mark Bravo: “Selena Vex feeds off hatred like it’s protein powder. Rosa Delgado? That’s the one I’m worried about. She’s not here for attention—she’s here for damage.”
Selena struts down the ramp, pointing at herself and mouthing ‘you’re welcome’ to the camera. Rosa stays half a step behind, eyes cutting left and right—watching ladders, watching bodies, watching who’s already starting to get impatient in the ring.
At ringside, Selena stops and gestures toward the ladders like they’re dirty furniture, then looks at Rosa and says something off-mic that makes Rosa’s jaw tighten.
Rosa reaches down and drags a ladder a few inches with her boot—metal screeching on the floor—then nods once like she’s satisfied with where it sits. Selena smirks and does a quick hair flip, then steps up onto the apron with exaggerated grace.
Rosa climbs up after her, wiping her boots once against the apron edge—measured, deliberate—then steps through the ropes.
Inside the ring, Selena immediately starts talking. She points at Tyler Cruz and laughs, then points at Carter Durant and shakes her head like he’s a child in a grown-up match. Rosa stands near the ropes and looks across at Magnus Wolfe—two technicians, two hunters—sharing that silent, mutual understanding of what this kind of match really is: opportunity for cruelty.
John Phillips: “This match is already loaded with tension, and we haven’t even had the champions enter yet.”
Mark Bravo: “And you know The Empire is gonna try to steal it. Selena Vex will grab one belt and claim she won both just by existing.”
Selena blows a kiss to a booing fan and points toward the ceiling, then makes a ‘wrap it up’ gesture like she’s ready to end the night on her terms. Rosa rolls her shoulders and keeps her eyes locked on the ladders.
The music fades, the boos continue… and then the lights drop once more for the final entrance.
The noise inside the Allstate Arena swells—five teams already in the ring, ladders scattered like steel skeletons around ringside, bodies circling, jawing, shoving… and then the entire building drops into darkness.
For a moment, the holiday lights around the stage are the only thing visible—twinkling red-and-gold garland, a giant Seasons Beatings banner… all of it suddenly feeling small.
A low fog begins to spill across the entranceway.
Then the first haunting notes of “Cemetery Gates” roll through the arena.
The crowd erupts—boos, uneasy chants, and a wave of noise that doesn’t sound like hatred as much as instinctive warning.
John Phillips: “And here they come… the champions.”
Mark Bravo: “Nope. Nope. I hate this part. I hate when the fog shows up, JP. That’s never good.”
The fog thickens, crawling down the ramp like a living thing. A slow, eerie flute line threads through the music and the stage lights shift into a sickly, dim glow—like the entire Christmas set just got haunted.
Out of the mist, gliding with unnatural calm, appear El Fantasma Oscuro 1 and El Fantasma Oscuro 2.
They move in perfect sync—heads tilted slightly downward, masks gleaming, eyes fixed on the ring with that cold, unblinking stare. They don’t acknowledge the fans. They don’t acknowledge the noise. They simply… advance.
Behind them, stepping into view with the swagger of a man who thinks he owns the shadows, is their manager—Madman Szalinski.
Madman wears a wide, satisfied grin. He raises his arms and turns slowly, soaking in the reaction like he’s conducting it. In one hand, he carries a small velvet bag—dark red, cinched tight—resting casually at his side like it’s just a holiday gift.
John Phillips: “El Fantasma… with Madman Szalinski. The UTA Tag Team Champions enter last, and you can feel the temperature drop in this building.”
Mark Bravo: “Look at that bag. Look at the bag, John. That’s not candy canes. That’s crimes.”
In the ring, every other team reacts—U.S.A backs into a corner, Velocity Vanguard shifts closer together, Iron Dominion stands their ground like statues, Next Level points and shouts warnings to each other, and The Empire just smirks like they’re watching rivals arrive to a mutual sin.
El Fantasma reaches the bottom of the ramp and stops. Both Oscuros slowly lift their heads at the exact same time, staring directly at the ladders in the ring… then up at the championships hanging above.
Madman leans in between them, saying something under his breath—then he points toward the ring like a maestro cueing the first note of violence.
El Fantasma moves again—smooth, silent, sinister. They don’t rush. They don’t sprint. They glide down the rest of the ramp like inevitability.
John Phillips: “Remember, to win this match you have to pull down both titles. It’s not enough to grab one. And in a six-team ladder match, that second belt is where everything breaks down.”
Mark Bravo: “And these two don’t just climb ladders, JP. They appear on ladders. Like—like spooky magic. I don’t know how else to say it.”
At ringside, Madman places one hand on the apron and looks into the ring, grinning like a man who’s already seen the ending. He gives the velvet bag a small shake—just enough for the camera to catch it—then tucks it close again.
El Fantasma Oscuro 1 steps onto the apron first. El Fantasma Oscuro 2 follows, both pausing just long enough to look down the line of opponents inside the ring. No taunts. No threats. Just that unnerving stillness.
Then they step through the ropes together.
Madman stays outside, one hand on the lower rope, eyes darting to every ladder and every body like he’s measuring the chaos he’s about to unleash. The fog lingers around their boots as their music fades, but the tension in the ring grows louder than any theme song.
John Phillips: “Six teams. Two titles. No rules. Holiday Heist is officially loaded.”
Mark Bravo: “And the champs are here last… which means everybody else has been waiting to swing first.”
Inside the ring, the six teams form a rough circle without even realizing it—shoulders tight, eyes wild, hands twitching. No one blinks. No one backs down.
And then bodies start moving.
The ladders are everywhere—leaned against the barricade, stacked near the ramp, scattered around ringside like the bones of a construction site. In the center of it all, hanging high above the ring, the UTA Tag Team Championship titles sway ever so slightly under the arena lights.
John Phillips: “Folks, this is the Holiday Heist Match—and it’s called that for one reason: tonight, any of these teams can steal the Tag Team Titles and walk out champions!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s the beauty of it, JP—this isn’t ‘beat the champs.’ This is ‘grab the gold.’ You don’t have to pin anybody, you don’t have to be the toughest… you just have to be the one with both belts in your hands!”
All six teams fill the ring now, tension snapping in every direction. U.S.A stands shoulder-to-shoulder, Jaxson Ryder steady and upright while Carter Durant bounces, eyes flicking from ladder to ladder like he’s already mapping out flight paths.
Next Level is opposite them—Theo Sparks talking and pointing like he’s calling audibles, Dex Raines silent, gaze locked upward like he’s measuring the exact number of rungs between him and the prizes.
Iron Dominion stands like a wall—Gideon Graves dead-center, jaw set, and Magnus Wolfe circling a half step behind, smirking like he’s already picked a limb to ruin.
Velocity Vanguard keeps moving—Tyler Cruz clapping once to keep his own rhythm, Jet Lawson rolling his shoulders and bouncing in place, both of them stealing glances up at the championships like it’s already their destiny.
And The Empire—Selena Vex and Rosa Delgado—wear the boos like perfume. Selena is running her mouth at everyone at once, pointing, laughing, promising theft. Rosa stays colder, focused, eyes tracking ladders and grips like she’s ready to carve out an opening the hard way.
Outside the ring, Madman Szalinski paces near the timekeeper’s area with that satisfied grin, hands clasped like he’s waiting for the first scream. Inside, the champions—El Fantasma Oscuro 1 and El Fantasma Oscuro 2—stand unnervingly still, heads slightly tilted, masks catching the light as they stare at the belts above the ring without a hint of panic.
John Phillips: “And let’s be clear about the rules—there aren’t many. To win, you have to climb the ladder and retrieve both titles.”
Mark Bravo: “And here’s the wild part—El Fantasma doesn’t even have to be in the finish to lose those championships. That’s why it’s a heist!”
That line hangs for a beat… and the entire ring seems to tense even tighter as everyone realizes it at the same time. You can almost see the thought flash across faces: I don’t have to beat them. I just have to beat the climb.
Jaxson Ryder steps forward first, raising his hands like he’s trying to keep it honorable. Selena Vex laughs right in his face. Theo Sparks yells something about “starting the match already.” Gideon Graves cracks his knuckles. Jet Lawson takes one step toward the center—then looks up again and points to the belts.
And in the split second that everyone is thinking about ladders… somebody decides to start swinging.
The moment the bell sounds, it doesn’t feel like a match starting—it feels like a dam breaking.
Six teams collide all at once, the ring instantly turning into a knot of fists, forearms, boots, and bodies.
Jaxson Ryder steps in and tries to meet chaos with control—hands up, trying to angle himself into space—only for Selena Vex to slap him across the face and scream something at him over the noise. Jaxson’s head snaps, his expression hardens, and he fires back with a stiff right hand that sends Selena stumbling into the ropes.
Rosa Delgado doesn’t waste a second. She darts in from the side and drills Jaxson with a rolling elbow, then immediately snatches his left wrist, twisting it hard—trying to start her work early. Jaxson grits his teeth and yanks free, but the damage is planted.
John Phillips: “And it’s an all-out brawl from the opening bell!”
Mark Bravo: “Nobody’s even thinking about ladders yet—this is just six teams trying to survive the first thirty seconds!”
Across the ring, Carter Durant sprints into the fray like a missile and launches a springboard dropkick—catching Magnus Wolfe flush in the chest and sending him crashing backward into Gideon Graves. Magnus hits the ropes, rebounds—only for Carter to snap into a quick hurricanrana, whipping Magnus to the mat.
But the celebration lasts half a breath.
Gideon Graves steps forward like a freight train and simply runs through Carter with a brutal running shoulder, flattening him so hard the crowd gasps. Carter rolls, clutching his ribs, and Gideon leans down to glare at him like he’s offended Carter tried it.
John Phillips: “Good lord—Graves just erased him!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s what power looks like in a ladder match, JP. You don’t fly if the runway gets bulldozed!”
Near the corner, Tyler Cruz and Jet Lawson are trying to build rhythm—quick strikes, fast movement—when Theo Sparks comes bouncing in, shouting and swinging wild like he’s pressing buttons too fast. Tyler ducks a clothesline and snaps Theo with a rope-skip enzuigiri that staggers him, and Jet follows with a running sling blade that whips Theo to the mat.
Dex Raines is already there, though—quiet as a glitch. He slides in and clips Jet’s leg with a low chop, then yanks him down into the canvas and drives an elbow into his shoulder, trying to slow the Vanguard engine.
John Phillips: “Next Level trying to disrupt the speed of Velocity Vanguard—Dex Raines is surgical!”
Mark Bravo: “Dex ain’t here to impress anybody. He’s here to uninstall your knees.”
And then—like a cold wind through the chaos—El Fantasma Oscuro 1 and El Fantasma Oscuro 2 finally move.
They don’t charge. They don’t rush. They glide in opposite directions, striking where the openings appear. Oscuro 1 catches Tyler Cruz from behind with a low dropkick to the knee, dropping him. Oscuro 2 slips in and blasts Carter Durant with a slingshot dropkick as Carter tries to stand, knocking him back down.
They never look hurried. Never look rattled. Just efficient—like shadows with timing.
John Phillips: “The champions picking their spots—El Fantasma is methodical!”
Mark Bravo: “They don’t brawl like everybody else. They brawl like they planned this in a basement a week ago!”
Jaxson Ryder tries to rally back—he nails Rosa with a forearm, then turns and catches Selena Vex with a dropkick that sends her tumbling through the ropes to the apron. Selena shrieks and grabs at the top rope to keep from falling, fury on her face.
But before Jaxson can follow up, Magnus Wolfe is back up behind him—dragon screw to the knee—and Jaxson hits the mat hard, clutching his leg as Magnus smirks and stomps once on the thigh like punctuation.
John Phillips: “Wolfe targeting the leg immediately—he wants to keep people off ladders!”
Mark Bravo: “You can’t climb if you can’t stand. That’s Iron Dominion math!”
The ring is pure movement now—teams breaking apart, crashing into each other, reforming, breaking again. Boots thud. Forearms crack. Bodies slam into turnbuckles. The crowd is roaring like they’re watching a riot behind ropes.
Outside, Madman Szalinski paces and laughs, pointing at the chaos like it’s exactly what he ordered for Christmas.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, one ladder inside the ring gets knocked on its side with a loud metallic clang… and every set of eyes flicks toward it for just a heartbeat—because in this match, that’s all it takes for the first heist attempt to begin.
That first glimpse of steel is all it takes.
The brawl starts to spill, like the ring can’t contain it anymore.
Gideon Graves grabs Theo Sparks by the back of the neck and the waistband and launches him through the ropes. Theo hits the apron awkward, stumbles, and drops to the floor in a heap, clutching his side as the crowd pops for the sheer violence of it.
John Phillips: “Graves just threw Theo Sparks out like trash day!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s a man who doesn’t believe in subtlety, JP!”
Dex Raines tries to slide in and chop Gideon’s leg to slow him down, but Gideon catches him—two hands around the throat—shoves him back into the corner, and drives a corner lariat so hard Dex folds and drops to a knee, eyes wide like his whole operating system just rebooted.
Across the ring, Selena Vex rakes at Tyler Cruz’s eyes and tries to whip him into the ropes, but Tyler spins out and snaps her with a back-flip dropkick that sends Selena flying backward and crashing under the bottom rope to the floor. Selena lands hard and immediately starts screaming like she’s been personally wronged by gravity.
Rosa Delgado goes to follow, but Jet Lawson catches her with a springboard knee strike that rocks her on the jaw. Rosa staggers—still upright—so Jet hits the ropes and comes back with a running sling blade that whips her down and skids her toward the ropes.
Jet grabs the top rope, looks down, and hops to the apron—setting up something bigger—but Magnus Wolfe is right there, stepping in like a shark. Magnus grabs Jet by the hair and the wrist and yanks him throat-first into the top rope—an ugly guillotine that stops Jet’s momentum cold.
John Phillips: “Jet Lawson just got hung up—Magnus Wolfe will do anything to keep people from taking flight!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s how you win a ladder match: you ground the planes!”
On the far side, Jaxson Ryder and Carter Durant regroup for a heartbeat—Carter still clutching his ribs—but Carter nods and sprints. Jaxson charges with him, and together they blast through the center like a two-man wave.
Jaxson catches Magnus with a stiff forearm that backs him off Jet. Carter, running pure adrenaline, leaps onto the middle rope and springs off—dropkick to El Fantasma Oscuro 2, snapping him back into the buckles.
But Oscuro 1 slides in behind Carter and clips his knee with a low dropkick. Carter buckles, and Oscuro 1 grabs his head and drives him down into the mat with a sharp snap DDT that makes the crowd gasp at the suddenness.
Jet Lawson, half-choked and coughing on the apron, reaches out for Tyler Cruz—Tyler slaps his hand—and Tyler springs through the ropes, grabbing Jet’s arm and pulling him back inside to safety.
At the same time, Gideon Graves decides he’s done waiting for space.
He scoops Rosa Delgado off the mat in a gorilla-press like she weighs nothing—Rosa’s legs kicking—then he walks her toward the ropes and dumps her over the top. Rosa crashes to the floor near the ladders, landing hard on her shoulder and rolling, grimacing as she tries to sit up.
John Phillips: “Rosa Delgado just got tossed like a sack of presents!”
Mark Bravo: “That present is PAIN, JP!”
Selena Vex sees Rosa down and tries to scramble back onto the apron, screaming at the referee even though the referee is basically a decorative item in this match. Tyler Cruz rushes the ropes and knocks Selena’s feet out from under her with a low kick—Selena drops again, hitting the floor right next to Rosa, and Rosa glares at her like she’s thinking about breaking her own partner’s arm out of frustration.
Theo Sparks stumbles up outside, still holding his ribs, and he grabs a ladder and tries to slide it into the ring—only for Carter Durant to spring up behind him and crack him with a forearm, knocking Theo into the barricade. The ladder clatters and skids away on the floor.
Suddenly, the ring is starting to clear. Bodies are collecting on the outside—Selena and Rosa near one set of ladders, Theo near the barricade, Carter and Jaxson teetering between the apron and the floor as they keep swinging.
Inside the ring, only a few remain upright: Gideon Graves like a tower in the center, Magnus Wolfe stalking near the ropes, and El Fantasma—both Oscuros—standing in opposite corners, eerily composed.
Dex Raines crawls toward a fallen ladder inside the ring, fingertips reaching for the steel, while Jet Lawson and Tyler Cruz regroup on one knee, both looking up at the belts again.
John Phillips: “We’re starting to get separation—this match is spilling everywhere!”
Mark Bravo: “Yeah, and the moment the ring clears even a little bit… somebody’s gonna make a climb.”
Dex’s hand finally grips the ladder and he starts dragging it toward the center—slow, determined—while Gideon turns his head and notices.
Gideon’s eyes narrow.
And the crowd rises, because they know exactly what’s about to happen next.
Dex Raines gets the ladder to a knee, hands tight on the side rails, trying to angle it upright in the center of the ring like he’s building a solution one rung at a time.
Gideon Graves turns toward him like a storm cloud deciding where to strike.
Dex looks up—sees Gideon coming—and does the only thing he can: he yanks the ladder up fast and swings it like a battering ram.
CLANG!
The ladder cracks Gideon across the chest. The crowd pops at the audacity.
Gideon takes a half-step back… then straightens, staring at Dex like Dex just offended his ancestors. Dex’s eyes widen—because he expected that to work.
John Phillips: “Dex just nailed him—did it even faze Graves?”
Mark Bravo: “Dex hit him with a whole ladder and Gideon Graves looked like he got tapped on the shoulder!”
Dex swings again, but this time Gideon catches the ladder with both hands, stopping it dead. Dex pulls. Gideon doesn’t move. Gideon yanks once—and Dex is dragged forward like a fish on a line.
Gideon headbutts Dex so hard Dex’s legs go loose, and the ladder slips from both their hands and crashes to the mat. Gideon grabs Dex by the waistband and the back of the neck and throws him through the ropes to the floor.
Dex lands near the timekeeper’s area in a sprawl, rolling over and clutching his face as Theo Sparks—still outside, still hurting—shouts for him to get up.
John Phillips: “Dex Raines just got launched out of the ring!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s why Gideon doesn’t climb ladders. He makes ladders out of people!”
Magnus Wolfe sees the opening and immediately turns it into cruelty. He steps in behind Gideon and grabs the ladder that fell, dragging it upright and leaning it in the corner like a weapon rack. Then he stalks toward Tyler Cruz, who’s trying to bring Jet Lawson back to full speed.
Magnus hooks Tyler’s arm and snaps a dragon screw, twisting Tyler down to the mat. Tyler grimaces and rolls, clutching his leg—Magnus smirking as he stays glued to him, stomping the knee once like he’s trying to remove Tyler’s ability to jump entirely.
Jet Lawson lunges in with a quick kick to Magnus’s ribs to get him off Tyler. Magnus absorbs it, then whips around and catches Jet with a single-arm DDT that plants Jet hard. Jet’s head bounces, and the crowd groans.
John Phillips: “Wolfe is dissecting Velocity Vanguard right now!”
Mark Bravo: “He’s taking away the springs before the ladder even stands up!”
On the outside, chaos keeps multiplying.
Jaxson Ryder and Carter Durant are fighting near the ramp with Theo Sparks and Dex Raines. Theo tries to grab another ladder and slide it in, but Carter sprints in and cracks him with a springboard dropkick off the apron—Carter launching himself like a cannonball and sending Theo sprawling backward into the holiday-decorated barricade.
John Phillips: “Carter Durant just used the apron like a launchpad!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s what he does! He sees a surface and thinks ‘yes, jump.’”
The Empire is regrouping near ringside as well—Selena Vex shouting at Rosa Delgado to ‘get up’ while Rosa pushes hair out of her face and steadies herself with a hand on a ladder. Selena points into the ring, furious that the ring has cleared and the opportunity is slipping away.
Rosa’s expression hardens. She grabs the ladder at her side and starts pushing it toward the apron, teeth clenched.
But before Rosa can slide it in, Tyler Cruz—hobbling but alive—dives between the ropes to the apron and swings a boot out, catching the ladder’s top and knocking it sideways. It smashes into the apron edge and clatters down, buying a second.
Selena screams, and she and Rosa surge toward Tyler—Selena grabbing at his hair, Rosa trying to hook his arm to drag him out.
Jet Lawson, shaking off the DDT, fires up and sprints—he hits the ropes, leaps, and launches himself through the ropes with a low, darting dive that crashes into Selena and Rosa on the floor, blasting them away from Tyler and sending all three skidding into the scattered ladders.
John Phillips: “Jet Lawson just threw himself into The Empire to save his partner!”
Mark Bravo: “Jet Lawson just became a human snowplow!”
Inside the ring, for the first time, the space opens.
El Fantasma Oscuro 1 and 2 are watching it happen from opposite corners—silent, still. Gideon Graves is near center, turning and scanning like a predator guarding territory. Magnus Wolfe is dragging Tyler Cruz by the leg, trying to keep him down.
And then, like a nightmare slipping through a crack, Oscuro 2 slides to the center and pulls the ladder upright.
The crowd rises again as Oscuro 2 starts climbing—slow, deliberate—hands steady on the rails.
John Phillips: “We’ve got our first climb—El Fantasma making the first heist attempt even as champions!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s the whole point, JP—steal it before anybody realizes the door’s unlocked!”
Oscuro 2 climbs three rungs… four… reaching upward—
And Gideon Graves simply steps in, grabs the ladder, and tips it.
Oscuro 2 flies off sideways and crashes down chest-first across the top rope, then spills to the floor with a sick thud. The crowd explodes at the impact.
John Phillips: “Graves just cut him out of the air!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s why you don’t climb when Gideon Graves is standing upright!”
Gideon turns from the tipped ladder, eyes wild now, adrenaline rising. He looks down at the ladder like it offended him… then looks out at the bodies outside, the ladders everywhere, the match spiraling.
And with a sudden burst, he grabs the ladder by one side rail and hoists it up like a weapon—ready to swing—
—but he doesn’t get the chance.
Magnus Wolfe shouts something, and Gideon’s attention flicks just long enough for El Fantasma Oscuro 1 to strike from behind—springboard in, slingshot dropkick—catching Gideon square in the back and sending him stumbling forward, ladder clanging out of his hands and collapsing to the mat.
The ring erupts again, bodies starting to rise, everyone sensing the next wave.
Because now? Now the ladders are finally in play.
The moment the ladder collapses, it’s like somebody rang a second bell.
Steel becomes the center of gravity.
El Fantasma Oscuro 1 steps through the chaos and snaps a low dropkick into Magnus Wolfe’s knee, buckling him, then whips around and blasts Gideon Graves with a quick running corner knee—just enough to stagger the big man into the turnbuckles for the first time tonight.
The crowd roars at the visual—Gideon Graves rocked, even if only for a second.
John Phillips: “El Fantasma is finally getting momentum on Iron Dominion!”
Mark Bravo: “They’re not trying to out-muscle him, JP—just trying to knock him off balance long enough to climb!”
Outside, Theo Sparks is crawling toward the apron, pulling himself up by the bottom rope like he’s respawning. Dex Raines staggers beside him, eyes narrowed and furious, and together they shove a ladder back toward ringside, trying to re-enter the game.
At the same time, Selena Vex is back on her feet, hair a mess, face twisted in anger. Rosa Delgado is bracing herself against the barricade, breathing hard, but her eyes are locked on Jet Lawson—pure irritation, pure focus.
Selena points into the ring and screams at Rosa to move, and Rosa nods once—then charges.
Rosa slides into the ring under the bottom rope like a shot and immediately finds Tyler Cruz, still hurting from the knee work. Rosa hooks Tyler’s left arm, twists it behind his back, and drives him face-first into the mat with a hammerlock takedown that makes Tyler yelp in pain.
Jet Lawson sees it and dives in—rolling savate kick to Rosa’s ribs—forcing her to release. Jet pulls Tyler up by the shoulder and points toward the corner ladder Magnus had leaned earlier.
Jet is trying to create a lane.
But Selena Vex is already sliding in, clutching at Jet’s ankle. Jet stumbles, and Selena pops up with a smug grin, throwing a forearm into Jet’s back and then raking her nails across his face when the referee isn’t even looking—because what’s he going to do, disqualify her?
John Phillips: “No rules means no consequences, and Selena Vex is thriving in it!”
Mark Bravo: “Selena’s like a raccoon in a dumpster, JP—she is in her natural habitat right now!”
On the far side, U.S.A is back in it.
Carter Durant sprints and springboards in—dropkick to Selena Vex—sending her spinning down. Jaxson Ryder follows immediately with a running bulldog that plants Rosa Delgado, snapping her head into the canvas and buying their team a breath.
Jaxson points up at the belts, then points at a ladder near the ropes.
Carter nods and rushes for it—dragging the ladder toward center—
—only for Gideon Graves to explode out of the corner and meet him halfway.
Gideon grabs the ladder as Carter drags it, and the two tug opposite directions for a heartbeat—Carter straining, boots slipping—before Gideon yanks once and rips it away. Carter staggers forward and Gideon swings the ladder sideways like a battering ram.
CLANG!
Carter gets crushed across the ribs, folding in half. The crowd gasps as he drops to the mat, holding his side.
John Phillips: “Graves just used the ladder like a weapon!”
Mark Bravo: “He’s not climbing it, JP—he’s committing felonies with it!”
Gideon turns with the ladder still in his hands and swings again—catching Jaxson Ryder in the shoulder. Jaxson drops to a knee, gritting his teeth and clutching the impact point, but he refuses to stay down.
Magnus Wolfe, limping but smiling, moves in behind Gideon and starts pointing—directing traffic like he’s a tactician on a battlefield. He stomps Jet Lawson’s hand as Jet reaches for Tyler, then yanks Jet up and snaps him into the ropes throat-first again.
And for a moment, Iron Dominion looks like they’re about to steamroll everyone into a pile and take the belts by force.
That’s when the fog shifts again.
El Fantasma Oscuro 2—back from the fall—slides into the ring with a sudden burst and hits a springboard missile dropkick that cracks Magnus Wolfe across the jaw. Magnus staggers, dazed, and Oscuro 2 follows with a somersault cutter that drops Magnus flat.
Oscuro 1 and 2 exchange a single glance—wordless communication—then both turn toward the ladder.
They pull it upright together, center ring, and Oscuro 1 starts climbing.
John Phillips: “El Fantasma is going for it again!”
Mark Bravo: “This is the champs saying ‘we’re not waiting for a heist—we’re doing the heisting ourselves!’”
Oscuro 1 climbs quickly—hands steady, feet fast—reaching for the first belt…
And from the outside—Theo Sparks springs onto the apron and slingshots in, launching his body into the ladder like a human projectile.
The ladder jolts violently. Oscuro 1 teeters—arms flailing for balance.
Dex Raines slides in right behind Theo and shoves the ladder again—hard—like he’s exploiting the “bug” Theo just created.
Oscuro 1 slips—boots scraping rungs—then drops, crashing down on his back in the ring as the ladder clatters and collapses again.
John Phillips: “Next Level just knocked him off the climb!”
Mark Bravo: “Theo Sparks just turned himself into a patch update!”
Theo is already scrambling up, pointing wildly at the belts, shouting at Dex to get the ladder back up.
Dex drags it upright again—slower, controlled, setting the base…
But before Dex can climb, Jet Lawson—still coughing, still angry—charges and drives a running sling blade into Dex, snapping him to the mat and knocking the ladder sideways yet again.
Jet pops up and looks out at the bodies outside the ring—Selena and Rosa regrouping, Carter and Jaxson stirring, Magnus trying to sit up, Gideon turning like a bull looking for something to gore.
Jet’s eyes widen like he’s just had an idea that scares even him.
He looks to Tyler Cruz.
Tyler nods—clapping once, feeding Jet the crowd.
Jet runs to the ropes…
and this match starts tilting toward something truly reckless.
Jet Lawson hits the ropes and rebounds with speed—fast enough that you can feel the air change—then leaps, planting a boot on the middle rope like he’s about to launch into the crowd.
But Gideon Graves sees him.
Gideon surges forward and reaches up—two hands—trying to snatch Jet out of the sky.
Jet twists at the last second, slipping past the grab, and lands on the apron instead. He turns, breathes once, and points out at the floor where bodies are beginning to pile: Selena and Rosa near the ladders, Theo and Dex scrambling to get another one into the ring, Carter and Jaxson on hands and knees trying to regroup, and El Fantasma Oscuro 2 lurking in the fog at ringside like a shadow with intent.
John Phillips: “Jet Lawson is thinking something dangerous—look at him!”
Mark Bravo: “If he jumps, he’s jumping into a whole parking lot of ladders and angry people!”
Inside the ring, Tyler Cruz claps hard—once, twice—trying to sync the crowd with him. He points toward Jet and shouts, urging him on.
Jet nods, then sprints along the apron, building momentum.
At the same time, outside the ring, Selena Vex and Rosa Delgado are dragging a ladder upright near the barricade—Selena barking orders, Rosa doing the actual work. Theo Sparks and Dex Raines are trying to slide another ladder in under the bottom rope. Carter Durant is pulling himself up by the apron. Jaxson Ryder is shaking out his arm, grimacing. Magnus Wolfe is crawling toward a ladder like he’s hunting for a tool. El Fantasma Oscuro 2 is standing a few feet away, still and watching like he’s waiting for the right moment to strike.
They’re all on the same side of the ring now—clustered, compressed, trapped by their own scramble for position.
Jet Lawson looks down at the pile… and commits.
He leaps from the apron—throwing his body outward in a twisting corkscrew body press, spinning like a meteor as he flies over the top rope line and out into open space.
The crowd rises as one.
Jet crashes down into the mass of bodies—slamming into Selena Vex and Rosa Delgado first, knocking them backward into the ladder they were setting up. The ladder topples. Theo Sparks gets clipped and flips onto his back. Dex Raines gets crushed under the spill. Carter Durant gets taken out at the knees and tumbles sideways. Even El Fantasma Oscuro 2 staggers back from the shockwave, forced to retreat a step.
The sound is a sick mix of impact and metal—holiday decorations shaking on the barricade as the entire side of ringside becomes a wreckage field.
John Phillips: “JET LAWSON JUST WIPED OUT HALF THE MATCH!”
Mark Bravo: “That man just dove into a clearance aisle of ladders and hatred! Somebody wrap him and put him under a tree!”
Tyler Cruz throws both arms up in the ring, feeding off the explosion. He sprints to the ropes and looks down at Jet—then looks up at the titles still hanging, untouched.
Tyler’s eyes narrow.
This is the lane.
Tyler turns and rushes for the ladder inside the ring—the one that keeps getting knocked down. He drags it upright, plants it center ring, and starts climbing fast, rung after rung, urgency in every step.
John Phillips: “Tyler Cruz is going for the heist—this might be it!”
Mark Bravo: “This is why your partner sacrifices himself! This is the window!”
Tyler climbs… reaches up… fingertips brushing the first belt—
And the ring shakes.
Gideon Graves is back on his feet and he charges into the ladder like a battering ram, shoulder-first, slamming it hard enough that the entire structure jolts.
Tyler’s hands slip. His boots scramble for balance. He clings to the top, fighting to stay on.
Magnus Wolfe rises behind Gideon and adds to it—shoving the ladder again, aiming for maximum instability.
Tyler Cruz loses it. He falls—hard—crashing down onto the mat and rolling, clutching his back.
John Phillips: “Iron Dominion just ripped him off the climb!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s what veterans do, JP—they don’t let the highlight happen!”
Gideon kicks the ladder down, then grabs it and hauls it upright with brute strength like he’s setting a monument. He turns his head and shouts something to Magnus—Magnus nods, limping, and slides in close to guard him.
Gideon Graves starts climbing.
Slow. Heavy. Certain.
One rung. Two. Three.
John Phillips: “Graves is climbing—if Gideon gets those belts, it’s over!”
Mark Bravo: “This is terrifying. This is a man climbing like he’s headed to tear the roof off!”
Gideon reaches halfway… and then El Fantasma strikes again.
Oscuro 1 slides in from behind and springs—slingshot dropkick to the ladder base. The ladder jolts. Gideon’s hands tighten. He snarls, trying to stabilize.
Oscuro 2 follows—running corner knee to Magnus Wolfe to knock him away from the base, then turns and grabs the ladder itself, shaking it hard enough to rattle Gideon’s grip.
Gideon tries to kick downward, boot swinging blindly, but El Fantasma keeps the ladder moving—never letting it settle.
And outside the ring, bodies begin to rise again—Selena Vex pulling herself up, Rosa Delgado shaking out her arm, Theo and Dex crawling toward the apron, Carter Durant pushing to his feet, Jaxson Ryder climbing onto the apron with fury in his eyes.
The reset is happening.
Gideon is still climbing… but now the match is alive again.
And that means the next crash is coming.
Gideon Graves is halfway up the ladder, jaw clenched, forearms flexed, trying to muscle the whole structure into stillness through sheer will.
Below him, El Fantasma keeps the base moving—Oscuro 1 kicking at the ladder’s legs, Oscuro 2 shaking the side rail with sudden jerks like he’s trying to rattle Gideon’s hands loose.
Gideon snarls and stomps downward, boot slamming the top rung, daring anyone to get close enough to pay for it.
John Phillips: “El Fantasma trying to bring down the tower, but Graves is hanging on!”
Mark Bravo: “He’s gripping that ladder like it owes him money!”
On the apron, Jaxson Ryder finally makes it back in—springing over the top rope and landing with purpose. Carter Durant follows him, still tender, but fueled by adrenaline. Across from them, Theo Sparks rolls under the bottom rope and staggers to his feet, Dex Raines right behind him, both of them dragging their breath like they’ve been through a car crash.
And then Selena Vex slides in—eyes wild, hair everywhere—pointing at Gideon like she just remembered the only thing that matters.
Rosa Delgado steps in after her, calmer, more controlled, scanning the ring like a chessboard.
Magnus Wolfe—still hurt from El Fantasma’s shots—leans against the ropes, shaking his head clear, then steps forward again to guard the ladder.
For a second, the ring is a storm with one eye at the center: Gideon climbing.
And that’s when the alliances start collapsing.
Selena Vex doesn’t care that Gideon is her temporary “help.” She charges and swings a forearm at Oscuro 2 to clear space—Oscuro 2 ducks, and Selena’s arm slams into the ladder rail instead.
She screams, shakes her hand, and shoves Rosa like it’s Rosa’s fault.
Rosa’s eyes flare. She doesn’t argue—she just grabs Selena by the back of the head and shoves her toward the ladder base like a human shield, then turns and snaps a rolling elbow into Oscuro 1’s jaw to knock him back.
John Phillips: “The Empire trying to clear the base—no teamwork, just survival!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s their entire vibe, JP! ‘Me first!’”
Jaxson Ryder sees the ladder wobbling and sprints—he dives in with a dropkick to the base, smashing one leg of the ladder and jolting it hard. Gideon’s hands slip for a split second, and the crowd roars as he fights to re-grip.
Magnus Wolfe catches Jaxson by the hair and yanks him backward, then drives a knee lift into Jaxson’s jaw that staggers him. Magnus smirks through the pain and hooks Jaxson’s arm—trying to set up something cruel—but Jaxson fires a back elbow that clips Magnus and frees him.
Carter Durant springs forward—springboard enzuigiri catches Magnus flush and drops him to a knee. Carter lands and immediately winces from the rib pain, but he keeps moving, adrenaline overriding everything.
Theo Sparks points up and screams at Dex, and Dex nods like he just got a signal.
Theo sprints to the corner, vaults onto the middle rope, and launches himself into the ladder with both feet—dropkick to the side rail. The ladder shudders. Gideon’s whole body jolts.
Dex follows immediately—shoulder into the base, adding force, stacking impact.
Gideon finally loses balance.
He doesn’t fall clean. He tips forward, chest smashing against the top, arms flailing, and then he tumbles off the ladder—crashing down hard onto the mat in a heap that makes the crowd gasp.
John Phillips: “GRAVES IS DOWN! GRAVES IS DOWN!”
Mark Bravo: “Everybody survived the giant—NOW GO STEAL THE PRESENTS!”
The ladder sways… wobbles… and stays standing.
For the first time all match, it’s upright and unattended.
And everyone sees it.
Rosa Delgado lunges first, trying to climb. Selena Vex grabs her ankle and shrieks that it’s her turn. Rosa kicks her hand away without even looking, continuing upward, and Selena—furious—jumps onto Rosa’s back, trying to drag her down.
Rosa fights the dead weight, gritting her teeth, one rung higher… then two…
Carter Durant sprints in and dropkicks Selena off Rosa, sending Selena crashing to the mat. Rosa slips down a rung, steadying herself.
Jaxson Ryder rushes in behind Carter and grabs Rosa by the waist, yanking her down off the ladder. Rosa lands on her feet—immediately throwing a rolling elbow—but Jaxson ducks it and snaps a forearm into her chest.
Rosa stumbles back.
Dex Raines sees the ladder and starts climbing—measured, controlled, eyes up.
Theo Sparks is bouncing behind him, shouting, pointing, hyping like Dex is about to win a tournament.
Dex climbs rung by rung… reaches up…
And Tyler Cruz—hobbling, battered—flies into frame and drills Dex with a pop-up rana off the side, whipping Dex off the ladder and sending him crashing down onto his back.
The crowd explodes as Tyler lands awkwardly, grabbing his knee, pain flashing across his face—but the sacrifice worked.
Jet Lawson is still outside, still moving slow after the dive, dragging himself upright with one hand on the apron. He looks into the ring and sees the ladder standing, sees Tyler hurting, sees the chaos…
And he slaps the apron, trying to will himself back into the fight.
El Fantasma Oscuro 2 moves next—he’s up the ladder fast, ghost-like, hands already reaching toward the belts.
But Magnus Wolfe—limping, snarling—rushes in and tips the ladder just enough to throw Oscuro 2’s balance off. Oscuro 2 grabs the top desperately—hanging for a moment—before dropping to land on his feet and roll away.
Magnus turns to climb himself.
And then the ring shakes again—because Gideon Graves sits up like a monster waking from a nap.
He looks at the ladder.
He looks at everyone climbing it.
And he decides he’s done letting anybody else try.
Gideon rises—slow, furious—steps toward the ladder…
and the crowd starts roaring, because they know the next wave is going to be violent.
Gideon Graves reaches the ladder and grabs it by the side rail like he’s about to rip it out of the canvas.
Magnus Wolfe—still limping—puts a hand out, trying to steady it for his partner, trying to reestablish control.
Gideon doesn’t steady it.
He lifts it.
The crowd rises as Gideon hoists the ladder off the mat like a spear, turning with it in his hands. Bodies scatter. The ring suddenly has panic in it.
John Phillips: “Oh no—Graves has the ladder!”
Mark Bravo: “That is not OSHA approved, JP!”
Gideon swings the ladder in a wide arc—an unstoppable sweep of steel.
CLANG!
The ladder catches Jaxson Ryder across the shoulder and chest, knocking him backward. It clips Carter Durant as well, smashing him down to a knee, ribs screaming from earlier damage. It grazes Selena Vex and sends her tumbling, shrieking as she rolls away like she’s been struck by lightning.
Rosa Delgado avoids the full impact by diving under the bottom rope, but even she isn’t safe—she crawls out to the floor and immediately finds Jet Lawson trying to stand, and she swings a forearm at him to keep him out of it.
Inside the ring, Tyler Cruz tries to spring back with a quick kick, but Gideon’s ladder swing forces him to retreat, limping toward the corner to avoid getting crushed.
El Fantasma Oscuro 1 and 2 don’t retreat like everyone else—they slip around the edges. Oscuro 2 grabs the ropes and vaults in with a slingshot dropkick aimed at Gideon’s knee, but Gideon turns and smashes the ladder down like a guillotine.
Oscuro 2 skids to a stop, barely avoiding getting pinned under the steel. He rolls away, eyes locked, emotionless even as the danger spikes.
John Phillips: “Graves is using the ladder like a scythe!”
Mark Bravo: “He’s mowing the lawn, JP! And the lawn is PEOPLE!”
Theo Sparks, ever the opportunist, tries to time it. He darts in behind Gideon, hoping Gideon won’t see him, hands reaching for the fallen ladder edge to pull it away.
Gideon sees him anyway.
Gideon drops the ladder flat, turns, and boots Theo in the gut—then scoops him up with both arms like he’s lifting a bag of cement.
He runs two steps and slams Theo down with an Oklahoma Slam, rattling the ring. Theo bounces and clutches his spine, eyes wide in shock.
John Phillips: “Theo Sparks just got folded!”
Mark Bravo: “Player One just got rage-quit!”
Dex Raines lunges in, trying to chop Gideon down at the knees. Gideon stomps Dex’s hand once—hard—then reaches down, hauls Dex up, and shoves him chest-first into the ladder lying flat on the mat.
Dex’s body hits the steel with a hollow thud. He curls over it, gasping, and Gideon leans down and snarls something at him that the camera can’t quite catch.
Magnus Wolfe steps in beside Gideon now—limping, smirking—like Iron Dominion is finally getting their house in order. Magnus grabs the ladder from one side and helps Gideon stand it back up center ring.
For the first time, it looks like a plan.
Magnus points upward, telling Gideon to climb. Gideon nods.
Gideon starts up again.
One rung. Two. Three.
Outside, Jet Lawson tries to fight Rosa Delgado off—he shoves her back, throws a forearm, and Rosa answers with a rolling elbow that rattles Jet and sends him into the barricade. Selena Vex is up too, pointing and yelling, trying to re-enter the ring and reclaim control.
Carter Durant crawls toward the corner, clutching his ribs, looking for a breath and a reset. Jaxson Ryder tries to sit up, eyes dazed. Tyler Cruz is pulling himself to his feet, limping, refusing to stay out.
And El Fantasma… waits.
Oscuro 1 slides toward the ropes and looks to the outside, where Madman Szalinski is pacing, hands up, screaming instructions like a conductor.
Oscuro 2 moves in behind Magnus Wolfe, silent as a shadow.
Magnus turns—just in time to eat a sudden running corner knee that drives him back into the buckles. Oscuro 2 follows with a somersault cutter that drops Magnus to the mat again.
Oscuro 2 pops up and points to the ladder.
Oscuro 1 is already there—springboarding in and blasting the ladder base with a dropkick that shakes Gideon’s climb mid-step.
Gideon grabs tighter, but the ladder is wobbling again.
And now, outside the ring, Jet Lawson sees Tyler Cruz fighting to stand… and he makes a decision.
Jet sprints—one last burst—slides into the ring under the bottom rope and grabs the ladder with both hands.
Jet and Oscuro 1—enemies, equals, opportunists—shake the ladder together.
Gideon’s balance finally goes.
He slips—boots scraping—arms flailing—
And he crashes down to the mat a second time, landing hard enough that the ladder falls with him, collapsing in a heap.
John Phillips: “Graves is down again! They brought him down again!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s teamwork you don’t see every day—temporary alliances in a Holiday Heist match!”
Jet Lawson stumbles back, breathing hard, and Tyler Cruz limps toward him, slapping his chest once like a touchdown celebration without the showboating—just gratitude.
But there’s no time to celebrate.
Because now the ladder is down…
and the whole ring is rushing toward it again.
The collapsed ladder becomes a magnet—everyone converges, everyone reaching, everyone trying to be the first to stand it back up.
Jet Lawson and Tyler Cruz get there first. Jet grabs one side rail, Tyler grabs the other, and together they drag it toward the center like they’re hauling a piece of machinery into position.
Across the ring, El Fantasma Oscuro 1 is already moving—quick, silent—sliding in low and launching a sharp kick to Tyler’s thigh to slow him. Tyler winces but keeps hold. Oscuro 1 follows with a low dropkick to Jet’s knee, forcing Jet to stagger.
John Phillips: “El Fantasma cutting the legs out from under Velocity Vanguard—literally!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s the champs saying ‘thanks for helping us earlier—now get out of our way.’”
Before El Fantasma can capitalize, Carter Durant dives into frame with a springboard dropkick that catches Oscuro 1 flush and sends him skidding. Carter lands and immediately clutches his ribs again, pain flashing—but he’s still upright.
Jaxson Ryder stumbles in behind him, shaking off the ladder shot, eyes narrowed. He and Carter exchange a look—no words needed—then they both grab the ladder and help Velocity Vanguard stand it.
Four hands. One ladder. One objective.
The ladder rises upright center ring—finally stable.
Tyler Cruz starts climbing immediately. He doesn’t hesitate. One rung, two rungs, three—fast.
Jet Lawson stays at the base, guarding, throwing short kicks outward at anyone who gets close.
Carter Durant hovers near Jet, watching for threats, while Jaxson Ryder turns and throws a forearm into Selena Vex as she slides in, trying to steal the moment.
Selena tumbles back into the ropes, snarling. Rosa Delgado is up on the apron now, reaching in, trying to hook someone’s ankle to pull them out.
Tyler Cruz climbs higher—eyes locked on the belts. His fingertips graze leather—
And then Iron Dominion returns like a nightmare.
Magnus Wolfe—still limping but angry—slides in and immediately yanks Carter Durant by the tights, dragging him into a knee trembler that snaps Carter’s head back. Carter drops hard, clutching his jaw, ribs forgotten in the moment.
Gideon Graves storms in right behind Magnus, eyes burning. He grabs Jaxson Ryder by the throat with one hand and shoves him backward into the corner like he’s discarding furniture.
Jet Lawson tries to step to Gideon—tries to meet him—but Gideon swats him aside with a corner lariat that turns Jet inside out and sends him flipping down to the mat.
John Phillips: “Graves just erased Jet Lawson!”
Mark Bravo: “Jet got deleted, JP! That’s a full system shutdown!”
Tyler Cruz is still climbing, still reaching—one hand on the rung, the other reaching up for the belt—
Gideon turns and spots him.
Gideon grabs the ladder and starts to tip it—slow, deliberate, cruel—like he wants Tyler to know it’s coming.
Tyler’s eyes widen. He clings harder, legs wrapping around the ladder for stability.
But Gideon is too strong.
The ladder tilts… and Tyler Cruz is forced to jump to save himself—launching off and landing awkwardly, rolling and clutching his knee with a sharp cry.
John Phillips: “Tyler had to bail—he couldn’t risk the fall!”
Mark Bravo: “That knee’s been targeted all match! If he eats that landing wrong, he’s done!”
Gideon lets the ladder fall, not caring if it collapses. It clatters to the mat again.
Magnus Wolfe smirks, then looks down at Tyler, and stomps Tyler’s knee once—nasty, surgical—just to make sure it stays hurt.
Tyler yells out and rolls away, dragging himself toward the ropes.
That’s when Selena Vex sees her opening.
Selena slides toward the ladder and starts dragging it upright—fast, frantic. Rosa Delgado slides in beside her, steadying it, eyes focused on the belts above like they’re the only thing in the world.
Selena starts climbing.
Rosa guards the base—forearms out, stance wide, ready to fight off anyone who gets close.
John Phillips: “Selena Vex is climbing—The Empire could steal this right now!”
Mark Bravo: “If Selena gets those belts, she’s gonna brag about it for ten years, JP!”
Selena climbs quickly—too quickly—hands shaking with adrenaline as she reaches up toward the first belt.
And then she feels it.
A tug.
She looks down—eyes wide—because someone has grabbed her boot.
It’s Theo Sparks.
He’s crawling, battered, but he’s smiling like he just found the cheat code. He yanks Selena’s boot and pulls her down a rung.
Selena kicks at him, screaming, but Theo keeps pulling.
Dex Raines slides in behind him and grabs Selena’s other ankle—now it’s two of them dragging her down like she’s a prize in a tug-of-war.
Rosa Delgado steps forward to help Selena—throwing a rolling elbow down at Theo—but Carter Durant, still hurt, leaps in and catches Rosa with a knife-edge chop and then a quick dropkick to the knee, knocking Rosa off balance and forcing her to back up.
Selena loses her grip.
She slips—arms flailing—
And she falls, crashing down to the mat in a furious heap.
The ladder wobbles but stays upright.
Theo Sparks looks up… sees the belts… and starts climbing.
The crowd buzzes—because Theo is suddenly inches from stealing the entire match out from under everybody.
But behind him—Gideon Graves turns.
And Gideon starts charging toward the ladder again, eyes locked, ready to end this attempt the only way he knows how.
Theo Sparks is halfway up the ladder, moving fast—hands flying from rung to rung like he’s speed-running the final level.
He looks up at the belts and screams something unintelligible—pure adrenaline—then reaches higher.
Dex Raines stands at the base, one hand on the ladder, the other out like a shield, scanning for incoming threats with that calm, analytical focus. His eyes keep flicking between bodies—Iron Dominion, El Fantasma, U.S.A, Empire—like he’s reading patterns.
John Phillips: “Next Level with a real shot here—Theo’s climbing!”
Mark Bravo: “Dex is doing the smart thing—guard the base, don’t get distracted, don’t chase the chaos!”
Too late.
Gideon Graves barrels across the ring like a freight train and slams into Dex with a corner lariat that nearly decapitates him. Dex flips backward and collapses near the ropes, clutching his neck and ribs, eyes wide like the world just glitched.
The ladder shudders as the base loses its anchor point.
Theo panics—clinging tighter, legs wrapping around the ladder as he tries to stabilize himself.
Gideon grabs the ladder with both hands and starts to tip it again—slow and deliberate, like he wants to watch Theo’s hope die in real time.
The crowd boos.
Theo’s eyes go wide as the ladder leans.
And then—like a flicker in the fog—El Fantasma Oscuro 2 appears at Gideon’s side.
Oscuro 2 drives a short-arm lariat into Gideon’s ribs—an odd choice from a luchador, but it lands with a thud and surprises Gideon enough to make him step back.
Oscuro 1 follows—springboard dropkick into Gideon’s knee—finally chopping the big man down to one knee.
John Phillips: “El Fantasma just stopped Graves—if only for a moment!”
Mark Bravo: “You don’t beat Graves by wrestling him—you beat him by hitting him with surprise and speed until he forgets he’s a tank!”
That moment is enough.
Theo Sparks climbs again—one rung higher—reaches up—hands on the first belt…
He starts tugging at the clasp.
The crowd is rising.
And then Magnus Wolfe gets involved.
Magnus staggers in behind the ladder, limping, face twisted in frustration, and he rams his shoulder into the side rail—hard.
The ladder jolts. Theo’s hands slip off the belt clasp for a split second.
Theo grabs the top rung again, shaking his head, trying to reset.
Magnus shoves the ladder again.
Theo hangs on, legs wrapping tighter, but now he’s stalled—precious seconds bleeding away.
Outside, Jet Lawson is pulling himself up on the apron again, face tight with pain. Tyler Cruz is hobbling beside him, clutching his knee, eyes burning with determination. They’re trying to will themselves back into this.
On the opposite side, Jaxson Ryder is dragging Carter Durant toward the ropes, trying to get his partner breathing again.
Selena Vex is up, furious, screaming at Rosa Delgado to do something. Rosa is trying to fight through Carter’s strikes and Jaxson’s presence, shaking her arm out and stepping toward the ring with intent.
Everything is converging at once.
Inside the ring, Gideon Graves rises again—slowly—eyes locked on the ladder and the man climbing it. He reaches down, grabs Oscuro 1 by the neck, and throws him into the corner like a ragdoll.
Oscuro 2 tries to hit Gideon again—running corner knee—Gideon catches him. For a split second, Gideon holds him in place like he’s deciding what to do.
Then Gideon lifts Oscuro 2—high—gorilla press position—and dumps him over the top rope to the floor in a terrifying toss that makes the crowd gasp as Oscuro 2 crashes into bodies near ringside.
John Phillips: “He just threw him out like trash!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s not a toss, JP—that’s an eviction!”
Magnus Wolfe keeps shaking the ladder—trying to finally dislodge Theo—
But Theo’s stubborn. He adjusts. He reaches up again, fingertips on the belt clasp…
And suddenly, Selena Vex slides in and grabs the ladder from the other side.
Selena doesn’t try to steady it. She tries to tip it herself—because if she can’t climb, she’ll pull everyone down with her.
The ladder sways violently now—Magnus on one side, Selena on the other, chaos at the base.
Theo Sparks clings like his life depends on it.
And then, from the apron—Jet Lawson launches himself back into the ring.
Jet springboards in—Comet Crash rope-walk dropkick—smashing Selena Vex square in the chest and sending her tumbling away from the ladder.
Tyler Cruz follows, limping but exploding with one burst—springboard armdrag into Magnus Wolfe—sending Magnus flipping over and landing hard.
Suddenly the ladder stops shaking.
For one breath, Theo Sparks has stillness again.
He reaches up… gets both hands on the first belt…
And then Jet Lawson looks up at him.
Jet’s face tightens, decision made.
Because Jet didn’t sacrifice everything tonight to watch someone else steal the holidays.
Jet grabs the ladder… and starts to climb.
Jet Lawson starts climbing fast, rung by rung, eyes locked upward—not at Theo Sparks, but at the belts. Tyler Cruz limps in behind him, one hand on his knee, the other gripping the ladder rail like he’s trying to will the pain away.
John Phillips: "Jet Lawson is climbing too—Velocity Vanguard is trying to steal this right out from under Next Level!"
Mark Bravo: "That's the Holiday Heist, JP! You blink, you lose your titles!"
Theo Sparks looks down over his shoulder and sees Jet coming up behind him. Theo’s face twists—half panic, half fury—because he can feel his moment evaporating.
Theo throws a boot backward, trying to catch Jet in the face.
Jet ducks it, keeps climbing, and snaps a forearm up into Theo’s ribs. Theo hisses and clings tighter to the ladder’s top section, trying to keep balance.
Tyler Cruz climbs from the other side now—slower, grimacing, but climbing. Three bodies on one ladder. The structure creaks under the combined weight.
Theo reaches up again, fingertips on the first belt clasp—he starts tugging—
And Jet grabs Theo by the waistband and yanks him down a rung.
Theo kicks wildly, heel clipping Jet’s shoulder. Jet’s grip slips for a second, but he re-hooks his arm around the ladder rail and pulls himself back in.
Tyler climbs one rung higher and reaches out—his fingers brush leather. He’s close.
Outside the ring, Madman Szalinski is screaming directions, pointing like a madman conducting an orchestra. El Fantasma Oscuro 1, jaw still rattled from earlier, slides back into the ring low and fast.
Oscuro 1 sprints and dropkicks the ladder’s base.
The whole ladder shudders.
Tyler’s bad knee buckles for a split second—he clings hard, jaw clenched, refusing to fall. Jet tightens his grip. Theo screams as his hands slip off the clasp again.
John Phillips: "El Fantasma just shook the ladder with three men on it!"
Mark Bravo: "That is psycho behavior, JP! But it might save their titles!"
Dex Raines drags himself up by the ropes, eyes narrowed, and reaches out—grabbing Oscuro 1 by the ankle. He yanks him backward off balance and snaps him down with a short, nasty pull that sends Oscuro 1 slamming to the mat.
Theo sees Dex and shouts, pointing down like he’s calling for help.
Dex tries to move in, but Selena Vex slides in from the side and rakes a forearm across Dex’s face, then stomps him down in the corner with frantic anger.
Rosa Delgado follows, more composed, and clamps onto Dex’s left arm—wrenching it in a tight angle like she’s trying to remove him from the equation entirely.
At the other side of the ring, U.S.A is regrouping. Jaxson Ryder slides in and throws a superkick that catches Jet Lawson in the ribs mid-climb. Jet sucks in air, grimacing, but he doesn’t let go. Carter Durant tries to follow with a springboard enzuigiri, but his ribs betray him—he hesitates, lands awkwardly, and stumbles instead of exploding.
Iron Dominion storms back in. Magnus Wolfe limps forward and starts shoving the ladder again—small violent bumps—trying to unseat everyone. Gideon Graves is behind him, eyes cold, hands flexing like he’s deciding which body he wants to break next.
And the ladder finally reaches its breaking point.
It tips just enough that Theo Sparks loses his grip first.
Theo falls—crashing down onto the mat with a thud—rolling and clutching his back, eyes wide in disbelief.
Jet and Tyler hang on, but the tilt forces them to slide down a rung. Jet drops to the mat to stabilize, boots skidding. Tyler slips down too, landing on his bad leg and immediately grabbing at his knee with a sharp exhale.
Magnus smirks and steps toward Tyler like he’s about to stomp that knee again—
But Jet Lawson steps between them, chest heaving, eyes furious. He throws a rolling savate kick that clips Magnus across the jaw and sends him stumbling back.
Jet turns—and runs straight into Gideon Graves.
Gideon catches Jet with a massive two-hand shove that sends him flying backward into the ladder. Jet hits hard, collapses, and the crowd groans at the impact.
John Phillips: "Jet Lawson just got launched!"
Mark Bravo: "He hit that ladder like it was a brick wall, JP!"
Gideon grabs the ladder again—starting to lift it—ready to turn the ring into a war zone one more time.
But before he can swing, Tyler Cruz—limping—snatches a second ladder that had been slid in earlier and rams it forward into Gideon’s midsection like a battering ram. It’s desperate. It’s ugly. It works.
Gideon staggers. The ladder in his hands drops with a clang.
Tyler drops to one knee right after, pain shooting through his leg, but he points up at the belts and looks at Jet Lawson like there’s only one thought left in his head.
Jet pushes himself up, breathing hard, and nods back.
Across the ring, Selena Vex is finally shoving Rosa Delgado toward the ladder, yelling for her to climb while she covers. Rosa nods once—measured—starting toward center.
El Fantasma Oscuro 1 rolls back to his feet, shakes his head, and glides toward the ladder too. Madman Szalinski is screaming at them from the outside, pointing wildly upward.
And Iron Dominion is rising again.
Everyone is moving toward the same point.
But Velocity Vanguard moves first.
Jet Lawson grabs the ladder and yanks it upright with Tyler’s help—Tyler grimacing through every motion—then Jet starts climbing again, faster than anyone else can react.
Tyler stays at the base, one hand on the ladder, the other gripping his knee, planting himself like a human anchor.
He looks up at Jet.
And the crowd can feel it—this is the opening they’ve been fighting for.
Jet Lawson climbs with urgency—no showboating, no wasted motion—just hands and boots snapping from rung to rung. Above him, the Tag Team Championships sway slightly, two separate prizes gleaming under the lights like twin targets.
Tyler Cruz braces the ladder at the base, jaw clenched, knee screaming, but he refuses to move. He plants his shoulder into the side rail and keeps it steady like it’s the only thing holding his career together.
John Phillips: “Jet Lawson has daylight—Tyler Cruz is anchoring that ladder with one good leg!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s grit, JP! That’s ‘I don’t care if it hurts, we’re leaving champions!’”
Across the ring, chaos surges to catch them.
Selena Vex is up first—sprinting in with a scream, throwing herself at Tyler with a forearm to the back of the head. Tyler’s body lurches forward, but he keeps the ladder steady, turning his shoulder into it harder.
Rosa Delgado follows, trying to pry Tyler off the base with a tight grip around his waist—looking to peel him away like a stubborn knot.
Tyler grits his teeth and fires a back elbow—awkward, limited by his leg—but it catches Rosa in the cheek and forces her to loosen for a second.
Selena takes advantage—she stomps Tyler’s bad knee once.
Tyler’s face twists in agony. He nearly folds.
But he doesn’t let go.
He shifts his weight, takes the pain, and stays glued to the ladder.
John Phillips: “Selena Vex is going after that knee—Tyler Cruz is refusing to give up the base!”
Mark Bravo: “It’s ugly, it’s cruel, and it’s effective—if Tyler flinches, Jet falls!”
Jet is near the top now—one hand reaching for the first belt clasp.
He grabs it and starts tugging, fingers working furiously at the fastening.
But below, Iron Dominion is moving too.
Magnus Wolfe limps in from the side, eyes narrowed, and he drives a sharp knee lift into Tyler’s ribs, trying to knock him away from the ladder. Tyler coughs, drops to one knee—still holding the rail.
Gideon Graves follows like a shadow—huge, furious, relentless. He grabs Jet’s ladder from the side with both hands and starts to shake it violently.
Jet’s body jolts. His boots slip a rung. He clings tighter, forearms burning as he fights to keep position.
John Phillips: “Graves is shaking the ladder—Jet Lawson is hanging on for dear life!”
Mark Bravo: “If Gideon tips that thing, Jet’s gonna fall through the New Year!”
Jet grinds his teeth and keeps working the clasp anyway—one hand holding the rung, the other wrestling with leather and metal.
And then—like a burst of light through the fog—U.S.A arrives.
Jaxson Ryder sprints in and superkicks Magnus Wolfe in the jaw, snapping his head back and dropping him to the mat. Carter Durant follows with a springboard dropkick that catches Gideon Graves square in the face—Gideon stumbles, stunned for the first time all match.
The crowd explodes at the sight of the big man rocking backward.
John Phillips: “U.S.A just dropped Iron Dominion—Carter Durant with a huge shot on Graves!”
Mark Bravo: “That’s the only way—you gotta hit him with speed and pray!”
Gideon shakes it off quickly—too quickly—and grabs Carter by the throat as Carter lands. But Jaxson Ryder throws another superkick—this one catching Gideon across the jaw and forcing him to release Carter.
Carter stumbles away, clutching ribs, but he stays alive.
Jaxson points up at Jet on the ladder—then turns and starts throwing fists at anyone trying to get near it.
Selena Vex charges Jaxson. Jaxson ducks a wild swing and snaps a forearm into Selena’s mouth, sending her stumbling into the corner.
Rosa Delgado tries to attack from the side—Jaxson catches her with a snap suplex that bounces her off the mat.
At ringside, El Fantasma Oscuro 1 and 2 finally regroup, sliding back toward the ring, eyes locked on the ladder like starving wolves.
Madman Szalinski is screaming, pointing frantically at Jet.
Oscuro 1 slides in and sprints toward the base—leaping up and grabbing Tyler Cruz from behind, trying to pull him away from the ladder’s side rail.
Tyler’s body jolts—his bad knee nearly buckles again—
But Tyler grabs Oscuro 1 by the mask and whips him forward into the ladder with a sudden desperate snap, sending Oscuro 1 face-first into the steel.
Oscuro 1 collapses, clutching at his face, mask still on but rattled.
Jet is still at the top, still tugging—
And then it happens.
Jet Lawson yanks hard and the first belt comes free.
The crowd erupts as Jet clutches it tight against his chest like it’s the last thing keeping him alive.
John Phillips: “JET GOT ONE! JET GOT ONE OF THE TITLES!”
Mark Bravo: “ONE DOWN—BUT HE NEEDS BOTH! DON’T COME DOWN YET!”
Jet hooks the belt over his shoulder instinctively—then immediately reaches up for the second belt, hands moving fast, desperate, because he knows the moment he hesitates is the moment someone tips the ladder again.
Below him, Gideon Graves roars and shoves through bodies toward the base.
El Fantasma Oscuro 2 slides in behind Jaxson Ryder and catches him with a sudden somersault cutter, dropping him in an instant.
Carter Durant turns—tries to spring in—Oscuro 2 catches him with a low dropkick to the knees, knocking him down hard.
Selena Vex crawls toward Tyler Cruz again, eyes wild, hand reaching for Tyler’s knee like she wants to break him to end this.
Tyler sees her coming—grimaces—and just kicks her away weakly, refusing to let her get a grip.
Gideon Graves reaches the ladder again.
He grabs the side rail.
He starts to tip it.
Jet Lawson’s hands are on the second belt clasp—fingers fighting metal—
And the entire building holds its breath, because the next second decides who leaves with everything.
The ladder starts to lean.
Not a violent crash—just a slow, terrifying tilt as Gideon Graves applies his strength with cruel patience. The whole structure groans, shifting under Jet Lawson’s boots.
Jet clamps his forearm around the top rung and yanks at the second belt clasp with his free hand, teeth bared like he’s trying to rip the year itself off the calendar.
John Phillips: “Graves is tipping it—Jet’s got the second title in his hands!”
Mark Bravo: “Come on, Jet! Rip it! Rip it like a gift receipt!”
Tyler Cruz, below, sees the ladder moving and knows exactly what it means.
He doesn’t look at his knee. He doesn’t look at Selena Vex crawling toward him. He just throws himself into the ladder—shoulder-first—trying to counterbalance the tilt with his body.
Pain shoots through him; his face twists, but he stays planted. He slides his hands up the side rail and braces harder, becoming a human anchor again.
Gideon snarls and shoves Tyler away—one massive forearm to Tyler’s chest.
Tyler drops to the mat, gasping.
The ladder tilts more.
Jet’s boots slip a rung—he catches himself at the last moment, forearms burning, belt strap biting into his palm.
And then—Tyler Cruz does something desperate.
He grabs Selena Vex by the hair as she reaches for him and yanks her up off her knees—then throws her into Gideon Graves’ leg like a human battering ram.
Selena crashes into Gideon’s knee and shin, shrieking as she collides. Gideon stumbles—just a half step, but it’s enough to disrupt his leverage.
The ladder wobbles back toward center.
John Phillips: “Tyler Cruz just used Selena Vex as a weapon!”
Mark Bravo: “Holiday spirit is DEAD, JP! It’s DEAD!”
Jet takes advantage instantly. He re-hooks both boots, resets his grip, and yanks again at the second clasp.
Metal bites. Leather strains.
Behind Gideon, El Fantasma Oscuro 2 slides in and grabs the ladder’s base, trying to jerk it sideways. Madman Szalinski is screaming on the outside, his hands in the air like he’s calling for the apocalypse.
Oscuro 1—mask rattled—stumbles back to his feet and joins, shoving the ladder too, trying to shake Jet loose and reclaim what they came in with.
Across the ring, Jaxson Ryder is crawling, dazed, trying to get back in position. Carter Durant is on one knee, clutching ribs, head down, fighting for air.
Dex Raines drags himself up in the corner, eyes narrowed behind sweat—he spots Jet on the ladder, spots the belts, and starts moving toward center like a man who refuses to let the moment pass.
But then Magnus Wolfe intercepts—dragon screw to Dex’s leg—yanking him down and twisting him into the mat with a vicious snap. Dex slams the canvas and clutches his knee, trapped again.
John Phillips: “Magnus Wolfe just cut Dex down—Next Level can’t get to the ladder!”
Mark Bravo: “Everybody’s fighting for the same ladder like it’s the last lifeboat!”
Gideon recovers—furious—and grabs Oscuro 2 by the mask, ripping him off the ladder base with brute force. He hurls Oscuro 2 into the corner, then turns and grabs the ladder again—ready to tip it another time.
But Tyler Cruz—barely standing—springboards off the middle rope with a last-ditch burst of lucha instinct…
And he hits a back-flip dropkick that nails Gideon in the chest.
It doesn’t knock Gideon down completely, but it forces him to stumble backward, arms windmilling, losing his grip on the ladder rail again.
Tyler lands and immediately collapses to one knee, clutching his bad leg, breathing hard through the pain.
Jet Lawson looks down at Tyler—sees what he’s doing for him—
And Jet stops fighting for a second and starts ripping.
He yanks with everything he has—forearms, shoulders, core—pulling until the clasp finally gives.
POP!
The second Tag Team Championship comes free.
Jet clutches it against his chest—two belts now, one on his shoulder, one in his arms—eyes wide, disbelief flooding his face as the crowd erupts into a roar that shakes the building.
John Phillips: “HE GOT IT! HE GOT BOTH! JET LAWSON GOT BOTH TITLES!”
Mark Bravo: “VELOCITY VANGUARD DID IT! THEY PULLED OFF THE HOLIDAY HEIST!”
Jet carefully starts climbing down, boots searching for rungs, guarding the belts like they might evaporate if he blinks.
Below him, bodies scramble—El Fantasma reaching, Iron Dominion snarling, The Empire furious—
But it’s too late.
Jet hits the mat with both championships in hand.
Tyler Cruz pushes himself up, limping, and Jet shoves one belt into Tyler’s arms like he’s handing him the missing piece of himself.
Tyler stares at it—then lifts it, face contorting with emotion and pain and triumph all at once.
Jet raises the other belt high.
And in the middle of the wreckage—ladders down, bodies scattered—Velocity Vanguard stands tall as the crowd explodes for them.
John Phillips: “New champions in the Holiday Heist—Velocity Vanguard ends the year on top!”
Mark Bravo: “They didn’t need pinfalls, they didn’t need help—just guts, timing, and one clean opening! That’s how you steal Christmas in the UTA!”
Madman Szalinski is losing his mind on the outside, shouting at El Fantasma like his world just collapsed. Selena Vex is screaming at Rosa Delgado, furious and humiliated. Gideon Graves stares up the ramp, seething, like he’s memorizing this moment for later punishment.
But in the ring, Tyler Cruz and Jet Lawson turn toward the hard camera and lift their titles higher—breathing hard, battered, and brand new champions.
Season’s Beatings rolls on.
