Brittani Bezos versus Avery McCullen versus Astra Mortis

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Triple Jeopardy Elimination Match

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1st Elimination - Challenges for the AWS Women's Tag Team Championships at a future date.
2nd Elimination - Challenges for the AWS Sirens Championship at a future date.
Winner - Challenges for the AWS Goddess Championship at a future date.

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“Wrestling rings are full of monsters.”

Astra Mortis doesn’t mind monsters.

She only worries when one of them asks to be called champion.

The scene opens in a candlelit crypt. The air is thick with the scent of incense and the faintest whisper of a wind that carries a cold chill. Deep purple and violet hues flicker across the room as the soft light dances on the ancient stone. Astra Mortis, her dark silhouette barely visible, stands still, her fingers tracing the smooth surface of her bone rosary as she stands in quiet contemplation.

"I have seen many things from this world..."

 Her voice, soft, almost haunting, echoes through the darkened space, like the sound of a ghost from another time.

"...But none as hollow as those who walk among us pretending to live."

The camera slowly zooms in on Astra's corpse-paint, the violet-black veins painted across her skin standing out in the low light. The rosary shifts slightly in her fingers, a symbol of life and death, of protection and punishment.

Her eyes, dark and calculating, fixate on something far beyond the crypt — a boardroom, far removed from the shadows she now occupies.

"They think they can hide behind wealth, behind titles."

 A pause, her gaze steady, almost hypnotic.

 "But you cannot hide the rot that festers inside the hollow."

The scene shifts. The warm, flickering candlelight gives way to the sterile brightness of a high-rise corporate boardroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows show the vast city skyline, an endless sea of lights that seem so far from the cold crypt. In front of her, the elite, the wealthy, the powerful, sit around a polished conference table, adorned in suits made of the finest silk and wool. Astra stands in the doorway, her eyes roaming over each of them. The silence in the room thickens as she moves deeper into their territory.

"Tell me, what is it that makes you feel so... untouchable?"

 Her voice is soft, laced with that eerie undertone, like silk brushing against bone.

Astra circles the table slowly, never touching any of them, but it’s clear she’s evaluating, judging. Every moment, every glance she offers them, drips with disdain, though she never shows it outwardly. She’s too controlled for that.

"You speak of power, of influence, as if it were something earned. But I see only hollow souls playing at being gods. You wear your suits like armor... but what you don’t realize is the decay beneath them."

Her lips curl in a faint, unsettling smile, and the men and women in the room flinch, unseen by Astra but still felt.

"You think you own everything. The world, the people. The boardroom, the bedroom. But no amount of gold can hide the scent of rot."

Astra stops, her back to the group, her voice becoming almost seductive, as if she were whispering to them through the darkness.

"You are hollow, every single one of you. And when I stand in this room... I don’t just see your wealth. I see your end."

As Astra’s attention turns to Avery McCullen, the scene shifts once again, but this time the atmosphere is gentler, almost protective. The room dims, shadows fall around her, and the sound of the heartbeat monitor returns faintly, barely audible. Astra takes a step forward, her posture shifting, the hard edge of her previous disdain softening ever so slightly.

Astra’s voice lowers.

Not threatening.

Almost… concerned.

“Avery McCullen.”

A pause.

Her head tilts slightly.

Studying.

Judging.

But not cruelly.

“You glow.”

The words are quiet.

Certain.

“Storm survivors always do.”

Astra’s fingers slowly trace the bone rosary around her neck.

Her voice becomes softer.

“You’ve bled. You've rebuilt yourself. You’ve fought through things that break people.”

A slow breath.

Then the uncomfortable question.

“So tell me something, Avery.”

A beat.

“Why do you want the crown?”

Silence.

Not accusatory.

Just… curious.

“Is it glory?”

Another pause.

“Is it pride?”

Astra’s gaze hardens just slightly.

“Or is it survival?”

Then she shakes her head faintly.

“Because if it’s survival…”

Her voice becomes almost sad.

“Then you and I are fighting the same war.”

A long pause.

Then the line that plants the hook:

“And that means one of us is about to hurt someone she didn’t come here to fight.”

 “You should be the one who leaves with the crown.”

Astra's lips tremble ever so slightly, as if she wants to say more, but the weight of the match pulls her back.

“But I have to be the one who survives. For the Warmbloods.”

She watches the reflection of Avery’s face for a moment longer, as if searching for the strength to not hurt her, before turning away, her expression hardening.

The final scene arrives, and Astra’s demeanor shifts violently. Her expression becomes cold, the warmth fading as the disgust for Brittani Bezos rises like a tide. The boardroom scene still lingers in her mind, but it’s only a mask for the true feelings Astra harbors for the woman who thinks she can buy power. The words Astra speaks next are laced with venom, but they come from a place of righteous fury.

Astra steps forward slowly, voice dropping into that soft, ghostly whisper.

Almost gentle.

Almost kind.

Which somehow makes it worse.

“You wanted to be a champion, Brittani.”

Astra tilts her head slightly.
Studying. Judging.

“You wanted gold… power… applause from people who think money makes them untouchable.”

“People like you don’t see opponents.”

“You see assets.”

A pause.

“But crowns are heavy things.”

Her voice lowers.

“They crush Hollow bones.”

A breath.

Astra exhales softly.

“Then you’ll have to die for it.”

Her eyes harden.

“And you will be the first Hollow I bury.”

A pause.

Still calm.

Still controlled.

“Because I’m not stopping.”

Her eyes harden.

 Her words feel like a prophecy, the threat hanging in the air as Astra takes her place as judge, jury, and executioner. There is no remorse in her tone, no hesitation. The disgust has risen into something more primal — a need to cleanse, to punish.

The last words Astra speaks will shock those who listen, as they mark a shift in her moral code. Astra has crossed the line:

“You think you’re above this, don’t you, Brittani?”

“You’re Hollow. And I will make sure you never walk away from this ring.”

Night.

The apartment is small but warm.

Not gothic.
Not haunted.

Just lived in.

A pair of EMT boots sit beside the door. A folded ambulance jacket hangs on the back of a chair. A faint smell of lavender soap lingers in the air.

Outside, Buffalo rain taps softly against the window.

Inside the bedroom, the lights are off.

Astra Mortis is awake.

She lies on her back staring at the ceiling like it might collapse on top of her.

Her fingers clutch the cracked hospital ID bracelet resting against her sternum.

Her breathing is wrong.

Too shallow.

Too fast.

A nightmare without sleep.

The match card keeps replaying in her head.

Brittani Bezos.
That part is simple.

Hollows are easy.

Monsters are easy.

But the other name —

Avery McCullen.

Astra turns onto her side abruptly, dragging a hand through her dark hair.

A whisper slips out before she can stop it.

“Warmblood…”

The word sounds like a confession.

Or a curse.

Her voice trembles.

“…Why did they put a Warmblood in my path?”

The mattress shifts slightly behind her.

Soft movement.

Warm movement.

Rosalie.

Rosalie had been asleep.

Now she isn’t.

A small hand reaches across the space between them and gently touches Astra’s arm.

Not forcefully.

Just… there.

Like checking a pulse.

Rosalie’s voice is quiet and sleepy.

“Nightmare?”

Astra freezes.

The contact alone makes her nervous system short-circuit.

Rosalie is the one person Astra doesn’t know how to survive.

Fighting monsters is easy.

Being touched kindly?

That’s unbearable.

“…I didn’t fall asleep.”

Rosalie pushes herself up slightly on one elbow.

Her honey-blonde hair is a mess from sleep.

Her voice is still soft.

“Your breathing says otherwise.”

Astra exhales sharply.

Of course the EMT notices.

Rosalie gently slides closer, the mattress dipping again.

Astra instinctively shifts away half an inch.

Not rejection.

Fear.

Always fear.

“I’m fine.”

Rosalie gives a quiet little huff.

“You’re lying.”

Astra goes still.

Rosalie’s hand moves again, this time resting over Astra’s wrist.

Two fingers press lightly against the inside.

Checking her pulse.

Professional instinct.

Astra’s heart rate immediately spikes.

Rosalie notices.

Of course she notices.

“…You do this every time you’re scared.”

Astra turns her head slightly.

“I’m not scared.”

Rosalie tilts her head.

“Your heart’s doing 110.”

A beat.

“…You’re scared.”

Astra closes her eyes.

The words slip out before she can stop them.

“They booked me against a Warmblood.”

Rosalie doesn’t react right away.

She knows the vocabulary.

She’s heard Astra talk about it a hundred times.

Warmbloods.

Hollows.

Living.

Dead.

Rosalie traces a thumb lightly over Astra’s wrist.

“What’s her name?”

Astra stares at the ceiling again.

“Avery.”

The name sounds heavy in her mouth.

“She’s… strong.”

Rosalie smiles faintly.

“That’s good.”

Astra shakes her head immediately.

“No.”

Rosalie raises an eyebrow.

“No?”

Astra turns her head slowly.

Her expression is genuinely distressed.

“She survived things.”

Rosalie watches her carefully.

Astra’s voice gets quieter.

“She glows.”

Rosalie’s expression softens immediately.

Ah.

Now she understands.

“You think she’s a good person.”

Astra swallows.

“Yes.”

Rosalie squeezes her wrist gently.

“And that’s bad?”

Astra sits up abruptly.

“Yes.”

The word comes out too fast.

Too sharp.

Rosalie sits up too, pulling the blanket around her shoulders.

“You’re wrestling her. Not burying her in the woods.”

Astra looks horrified.

“You don’t understand.”

Rosalie leans her head slightly.

“Then explain.”

Astra runs a hand down her face.

“I break Hollow people.”

A pause.

“But Warmbloods…”

Her voice cracks slightly.

“…I’m supposed to protect them.”

Rosalie watches her for a moment.

Then she shifts closer.

Very close.

Close enough that Astra can feel her body heat.

Rosalie’s voice lowers.

“Sable.”

Astra freezes.

Rosalie almost never uses that name.

“Sable… you don’t protect people by refusing to live your life.”

Astra shakes her head slowly.

“If I hurt her—”

Rosalie interrupts gently.

“You’re going to hurt each other.”

Astra looks stricken.

“That’s the job.”

Rosalie’s hand reaches up slowly.

Very slowly.

She brushes a smudge of leftover violet paint off Astra’s cheek.

The gesture is soft.

Intimate.

Astra stops breathing for a second.

Rosalie smiles faintly.

“You’re not the monster you think you are.”

Astra whispers immediately:

“I died.”

Rosalie shrugs.

“I see worse on Tuesday shifts.”

Astra stares at her.

Rosalie leans forward and presses a tiny kiss against Astra’s temple.

Completely fearless.

“You’re a protector who punches people for a living.”

A small smile.

“That’s not exactly new to me.”

Astra stares at the floor.

“What if she’s better than me?”

Rosalie answers instantly.

“Then she wins.”

Astra looks up.

Rosalie shrugs again.

“That’s sports.”

Then Rosalie’s tone shifts slightly.

More serious now.

“But if she’s as strong as you say…”

She tilts Astra’s chin upward gently.

“…Then she can survive you.”

Astra goes quiet.

Rosalie smiles softly.

“And if she can’t?”

A beat.

“Then she was never a Warmblood in the first place.”

Silence settles between them.

Rain tapping the window.

Astra slowly leans back down into the pillows.

Rosalie curls up beside her.

Her hand finds Astra’s again.

This time Astra doesn’t pull away.

Her voice is barely audible.

“…I’m scared I’ll become the monster I hunt.”

Rosalie squeezes her fingers.

“You won’t.”

Astra whispers:

“How do you know?”

Rosalie smiles sleepily.

“Because monsters don’t panic about hurting people.”

She closes her eyes again.

“And they definitely don’t date EMTs.”

Astra stares at the ceiling.

Her heartbeat finally slows.

Rosalie’s breathing evens out again beside her.

Sleep returns to the room.

But Astra stays awake.

Quiet.

Thinking.

About Avery.

About Brittani.

About the ring.

And about the one person in the world she’s truly afraid to break.

She gently turns her hand in Rosalie’s grip.

Carefully.

Like holding glass.

Then she whispers into the darkness.

“Warmblood.”

Not Avery.

Not the audience.

Not the world.

Just Rosalie.

And for the first time tonight—

Astra Mortis finally breathes.

Morning.

Grey Buffalo dawn.

Rain still falling.

Outside the apartment building, an ambulance idles quietly.

Rosalie is standing beside it, pulling on her EMT jacket.

Astra stands a few feet away in the parking lot, watching.

Rosalie notices her staring.

“You’re still thinking about the match.”

Astra doesn't deny it.

Her eyes drift to the ambulance.

“…I used to work nights like that.”

Rosalie nods.

“You told me.”

Astra’s voice lowers.

“I held a girl once.”

Rosalie goes quiet.

Astra stares at the pavement.

“She was seventeen.”

A beat.

“Her boyfriend broke her jaw.”

Another beat.

“She kept apologizing.”

Rosalie’s expression tightens.

Astra’s voice becomes colder.

“She said she didn’t want to press charges.”

Rosalie knows the answer before Astra says it.

“Why?”

Astra finally looks up.

“Because he paid the rent.”

Silence.

Astra’s eyes harden.

“And people like Brittani Bezos stand in rooms full of money…”

Her voice turns venomous.

“…and call it power.”

Rosalie studies her carefully.

“You’re not fighting her because she’s rich.”

Astra shakes her head slowly.

“No.”

Her voice becomes quiet.

Deadly.

“I’m fighting her because she thinks people like that girl are assets.”

Astra looks toward the rising sun.

“I’ve buried too many Warmbloods to let Hollow people wear crowns.”

She turns away.

Already leaving.

Rosalie calls after her softly.

“Sable.”

Astra stops.

Rosalie smiles faintly.

“Try to remember they’re people too.”

Astra pauses.

Then quietly answers:

“No promises.”

“Warmbloods glow brightest in the dark… and Hollow ones make the best graves.”

And walks away.

The private training facility sat high above the city, a pristine glass box perched among steel and skyline. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the space, revealing a sprawling cityscape that stretched endlessly into the late afternoon haze. Sunlight poured in across polished hardwood floors and chrome-lined equipment, reflecting softly off the spotless mirrors that lined one wall. Every detail of the facility spoke of precision and exclusivity - this was not a public gym. It was curated, controlled, and immaculate.

Brittani Bezos moved through the space with the quiet focus of someone who treated preparation like an art form.

Her workout had already been going for hours. A private strength coach stood nearby, tablet in hand, quietly tracking intervals and recovery metrics. Another trainer monitored the speed bag hanging from a sleek black stand near the center of the room. No one raised their voice. No one interrupted her rhythm. In this room, Brittani dictated the pace.

Her movements were sharp and deliberate. Every strike into the heavy bag snapped with mechanical precision, the leather recoiling under the force of disciplined repetition. Sweat formed along the edges of her hairline but never lingered long; she wiped it away with the back of her wrist before continuing the next sequence. There was no wasted motion. No dramatic flourish.

Just work.

Outside the glass walls, the city pulsed with its usual chaos - traffic crawling through avenues, helicopters drifting between skyscrapers, sunlight bouncing off distant buildings like shards of gold. Inside the gym, the atmosphere was the opposite: calm, controlled, calculated.

Between sets, Brittani stepped toward the windows, rolling her shoulders slowly as she studied the skyline. The reflection staring back at her in the glass carried the confidence of someone accustomed to operating in spaces where pressure was constant. Boardrooms. Corporate negotiations. High-stakes decisions made across polished tables and under fluorescent lights.

Professional wrestling wasn’t all that different.

Her conditioning routine resumed with explosive intensity - sled pushes across the turf lane, rope slams that cracked through the quiet air, and a sequence of grappling drills on the mat where her trainer simulated resistance and sudden reversals. Each movement mimicked the unpredictable rhythm of a three-way match. A shove from one direction. A sudden grab from another. The constant need to pivot.

Triple Jeopardy.

Three competitors.

Two eliminations.

Only one path to the Goddess Championship.

The structure of the match hung in the back of her mind like a strategic blueprint. It wasn’t just about survival. It was about timing. Letting two opponents collide while she calculated the exact moment to step forward and take control.

Her trainers reset the equipment as she transitioned into core work, balancing on a stability platform while rotating through medicine ball throws designed to simulate the torque of a sudden counter. The exercise forced constant adjustments - tiny shifts of balance that mirrored the chaos of a triple threat.

Across the room, a sleek glass table held neatly arranged supplements, water bottles, and a folded towel embroidered with her initials. Even the smallest details in the room reflected organization and intention. Nothing about Brittani Bezos was accidental.

She finished the final sequence with a burst of speed drills along the turf lane, sprinting in short violent bursts before sliding to a controlled stop. The trainers watched her numbers on their tablets, nodding in quiet approval. Her breathing slowed quickly, disciplined and controlled, the result of someone who treated endurance like currency.

As the workout wound down, Brittani walked once more to the massive windows overlooking the skyline.

The city lights were beginning to flicker on now, one building at a time. Offices where deals were being closed. Companies rising and falling. Empires built on ambition and relentless effort.

The reflection in the glass showed the same ambition staring back.

For Brittani Bezos, preparation was never about simply showing up to compete. It was about stacking every advantage possible before the bell ever rang. Hours in this pristine facility. Endless drills refining instinct and reaction. Building strength not just in muscle, but in strategy.

Avery McCullen would bring grit. Astra Mortis would bring mystique.

Brittani brought structure, preparation, and the ruthless efficiency of someone who understood competition on a deeper level.

The city outside continued its restless motion, but inside the gym the work was complete for the moment. The equipment stood silent again. The trainers gathered their tablets and notes.

Brittani lingered a moment longer at the glass wall, looking out over the skyline like an executive surveying the empire she intended to expand.

Soon the setting would change - from polished floors and controlled drills to the chaos of the ring. But the foundation had already been laid here, high above the city, in a place built for winners.

The preparation was finished.

All that remained now was execution.

We cut to the city skyline at dusk.

Glass walls stretch from floor to ceiling inside a private office overlooking the lights of the financial district below. The room is immaculate - minimalist furniture, polished marble floors, soft ambient lighting. On one wall, massive digital displays track stock prices, logistics routes, and financial data scrolling endlessly in quiet motion.

At the center of the room stands Brittani Bezos.

She’s dressed sharply, not in wrestling gear, but in tailored business attire that reflects the environment around her. One hand rests lightly on the back of a modern leather chair while the other holds a tablet she casually sets down on the glass table beside her.

The camera slowly circles as the city glows behind her.

BRITTANI: There’s something fascinating about people like Astra Mortis. They see money… and immediately they think they understand the story. They see wealth and assume corruption. They see success and assume shortcuts. They see power and convince themselves it must be hollow.

A small smirk crosses Brittani’s face as she slowly walks toward the glass wall, looking out over the city.

BRITTANI: But that’s because people like Astra don’t live in the real world. They live in shadows. Crypts. Candles. Ghost stories. A world where everything is symbolism and darkness and whispered nightmares.

She lightly taps the glass wall with her finger, the skyline reflecting in the polished surface.

BRITTANI: Meanwhile out here… Results matter. Numbers matter. Discipline matters. Out here you don’t get to hide behind mythology or theatrics. You either succeed… or you don’t.

Brittani turns back toward the camera, leaning casually against the desk.

BRITTANI: Astra sees money and assumes corruption. I see money for what it actually is. Control. Leverage. Proof. Proof that when the stakes are high and the pressure is real… I perform. Proof that when competition exists, I win.

She folds her arms, the confidence in her posture completely unshaken.

BRITTANI: People love to whisper about my name. They love to pretend that Brittani Bezos just woke up one morning and the world handed her everything. That I inherited my position. That I inherited my success. That I inherited power.

Her eyes narrow slightly.

BRITTANI: Here’s the truth. I didn’t inherit power in wrestling. I built it. Every training session. Every match. Every show where I showed up early, worked harder, and left later than everyone else. Every moment where I could have coasted… and chose not to. Because discipline builds empires. And discipline wins championships.

Brittani slowly walks back toward the window again, the lights of the city now shining brighter as night sets in.

BRITTANI: Wealth isn’t weakness. Wealth is proof. Proof that you have the discipline to outwork people. The intelligence to outmaneuver them.And the dominance to stand on top when the dust settles.

She pauses, looking out over the endless skyline.

BRITTANI: People like Astra Mortis look at someone like me and think money makes you hollow. That it strips away struggle. That it somehow makes you soft.

She turns back to the camera, her expression calm and completely certain.

BRITTANI: What it really does… is remove excuses. When you have resources, preparation, opportunity, access… the only thing left is performance. And that’s the part people like Astra don’t understand. Because in her world, everything is superstition and shadows. But in my world… there’s nowhere to hide. Only results.

Brittani steps closer to the camera now, the skyline behind her glowing like a sea of light.

BRITTANI: And in a Triple Jeopardy match with Avery McCullen and Astra Mortis… results are the only thing that matter. Two eliminations. One opportunity at the Goddess Championship. Astra will bring her nightmares. Avery will bring her fight. But I’m bringing something far more dangerous than either of them. Preparation. Discipline. Control.

She adjusts the cuff of her sleeve calmly.

BRITTANI: Astra lives in crypts and nightmares. I live in a world where the scoreboard is real. And when the match is over… when the eliminations are done… when the path to the Goddess Championship is clear…

The camera tightens on Brittani’s confident expression.

BRITTANI: You’re going to see exactly what discipline, leverage, and power look like when they step into the ring. Because money doesn’t make you hollow. It makes you dangerous.

The boardroom sat high above the city, surrounded on three sides by towering glass walls that revealed an endless grid of lights and motion below. Night had settled across the skyline, but inside the room everything remained sharp, bright, and perfectly ordered.

A long obsidian conference table stretched through the center of the room like a runway of polished stone. Embedded screens glowed softly beneath the glass surface, quietly displaying columns of data, financial charts, and performance metrics that shifted in real time. At the head of the table sat Brittani Bezos.

Where others might have felt dwarfed by the scale of the room, she looked completely at home. Her posture was relaxed yet deliberate, shoulders back, one leg crossed over the other as she leaned slightly forward in the executive chair that commanded the entire room. In front of her, several screens were open at once.

One displayed stock charts that rose and dipped across the digital surface like the pulse of a living organism. Another showed logistics reports and financial projections, lines of information flowing with machine precision. A third screen showed something entirely different - wrestling footage. Clips from previous matches played silently in a loop.

Avery McCullen’s aggressive bursts of offense. Astra Mortis moving through the ring with eerie patience. Moments frozen, rewound, analyzed frame by frame. Brittani studied them the same way a strategist might study market trends.

Her fingers tapped lightly against the glass tabletop as she reviewed the information in front of her. Occasionally she would pause a clip, zooming in on the exact second a mistake appeared - a slight overextension of the arm, a delayed reaction, a moment where balance shifted just enough to create opportunity.

The same instincts that read a financial market also read a wrestling ring. Across the table, neatly arranged folders contained printed contracts, scheduling notes, and match reports. Each page was aligned perfectly, each document organized with methodical precision. Preparation was never chaos. Preparation was control.

The massive windows surrounding the room reflected Brittani’s image faintly against the city lights outside. The skyline shimmered in the glass like a living map of ambition and competition. Towers filled with companies battling for dominance. Markets rising and falling by the minute. The environment suited her.

She reached forward and dragged a wrestling clip back several seconds. The footage replayed Avery McCullen charging forward during a match, attempting to overwhelm her opponent with sheer aggression. Brittani watched the moment several times, studying the timing and angles before switching to another clip.

Astra Mortis this time. A slower pace. Calculated movements. Psychological pressure built through presence rather than speed. Two completely different competitors. Two completely different approaches. And one match where only one person could emerge with the final advantage.

Brittani leaned back slightly in her chair, folding her hands together as the footage continued to play silently in front of her. The calm confidence on her face was the expression of someone who had spent years in rooms like this, where decisions carried weight and outcomes were determined by preparation long before the moment of action arrived.

The digital stock chart flickered beside the footage, lines climbing and dipping across the display. Competition was universal. Markets. Corporations. Wrestling rings. Every arena followed the same fundamental rules. Pressure exposed weakness. Timing created opportunity. Strategy determined who walked away on top.

Brittani reached forward again and closed the wrestling footage with a smooth motion. The screen shifted back to rows of financial data and contracts awaiting review. For a moment she simply sat there at the head of the table, the quiet hum of the room blending with the distant noise of the city far below. Astra Mortis thrived in crypts and shadows. But rooms like this were where Brittani Bezos thrived. Where plans were made.

Where advantages were built piece by piece. Where the outcome of battles was quietly decided long before anyone ever stepped into the ring. Outside the glass walls, the skyline burned with ambition and movement. Inside the boardroom, Brittani rose slowly from the chair at the head of the table, gathering the last of the documents and shutting down the glowing displays one by one.

The room darkened slightly as the screens faded. Preparation was finished. The next step would not take place in a boardroom. It would take place in the ring - where strategy, discipline, and control would turn preparation into victory.

BRITTANI: You know what fascinates me about Astra Mortis? She thinks she understands me. She looks at my world… she looks at wealth, boardrooms, business, structure… and she thinks it’s something rotten. Something corrupt. Something hollow.

She slowly stands from the chair at the head of the table and begins pacing around the conference room, her hand sliding lightly along the edge of the table.

BRITTANI: Because Astra walks into a boardroom and sees decay. She sees greed. She sees corruption. She sees something that belongs in one of her candlelit crypts.

Her tone remains calm, controlled.

BRITTANI: But that’s because Astra Mortis doesn’t understand how the real world works. Because when I walk into a boardroom… I don’t see rot. I see opportunity.

She stops near the glass wall overlooking the skyline, the lights reflecting behind her.

BRITTANI: Opportunity to build something. Opportunity to outthink the competition. Opportunity to take something valuable… and turn it into dominance. And that’s exactly how I see a wrestling ring.

She turns back toward the table and taps a screen displaying footage of the Triple Jeopardy match participants.

BRITTANI: To most people, wrestling is chaos. Emotion. Violence. Unpredictability. But to me? It’s a business environment.

Her finger taps the screen again, pausing the image of Avery McCullen mid-attack.

BRITTANI: Opponents are assets.

She switches to a clip of Astra Mortis circling an opponent in the ring.

BRITTANI: Matches are investments.

The screen changes again, now showing a championship belt from a recent event.

BRITTANI: And championships? Those are market share.

Brittani leans lightly against the table, completely composed.

BRITTANI: The moment that bell rings, the ring becomes a marketplace. Three competitors enter. Only one competitor leaves with leverage. Only one competitor walks away with the opportunity to claim the Goddess Championship. That’s not chaos. That’s strategy.

She folds her arms, her expression calm but confident.

BRITTANI: Avery McCullen is aggressive. She’s the kind of competitor who throws herself into the fight and hopes sheer force will carry her through. That kind of energy can be valuable. If you know how to manage it.

She glances briefly toward the paused footage of Astra Mortis.

BRITTANI: Astra Mortis operates differently. Psychology. Fear. Mystique. She wants people to believe she’s something ancient… something beyond understanding. But here’s the thing Astra doesn’t realize. Mystique doesn’t survive long in a marketplace. Because markets expose weakness. And the moment you strip away the candles and the crypts and the theatrics… What you’re left with is competition. Pure and simple.

Brittani slowly walks back to the head of the table and rests both hands on the glass surface.

BRITTANI: And competition is where I thrive. Because I operate best in environments where everyone else panics. High pressure. High stakes. Limited opportunity. Three competitors. Two eliminations. One path forward.

The camera slowly moves closer as she speaks.

BRITTANI: While Avery charges forward and Astra hides behind shadows… I’ll be doing what I always do. Evaluating. Timing. Positioning. Because the smartest investor doesn’t rush the market. They wait for the right moment. And then they take everything.

Brittani straightens slightly, her confidence unmistakable.

BRITTANI: Astra walks into a boardroom and sees rot. I walk into a boardroom…and see opportunity.

The skyline glows behind her as she delivers the final thought.

BRITTANI: And in Triple Jeopardy… I see two very valuable assets about to be converted into one very profitable outcome.

The camera lingers for a moment as Brittani calmly shuts the tablet screen in front of her. The match, like every investment she makes, has already been calculated.

Survival

Act 1: The Bail Out

Voice Over: I would do anything for the man I love, and I know he would do anything for me, hell he has and always will. He took the blame for the bar fight, so I could bail him out... And then my cousins, family will always be thicker than water.

The scene opens on the beautiful city of San Fernando. The show had just ended, and the streets were full of people celebrating the wins from the night. The smell from the restaurants drifted on the air, mixing with the ocean that was just on the other side of the boardwalks. The camera moves along the streets and soon stops on a large building with the words "Comisaria de la Policia Nacional" could be seen on the wall near the door. We see Avery walk inside. Her shoes clicked along the sparkling white floor as she moved along the hallway toward a desk. There standing at the desk was a young man dressed sharply in a deep blue suit.

Man: Puedo ayudarlo?

Avery looks at him and sighs, as the sound of heels clicking along the floor echo through the building. We soon see a familiar face from under a large brimmed black hat. It was Necra. She smiles as she looks over at Avery before she turns her attention to the man behind the desk.

Avery: (Voice Over) I did it. I got the win I wanted. I know it wasn't for a title but I managed to do it. This is just the start, and I'm not going until I get what I want.

Avery watches the exchange between Necra and the young man. He soon gets to his feet, and opens the door beside him.

Man: Ven por aquí por favor.

Necra motions for Avery to follow him. Avery and Necra both follow him down a long hallway toward the back of the building.

Avery: Thanks for helping me out.

Necra: Don't worry about it. I was in Milan anyway.

Avery: Let me guess for a show?

Necra nods.

Avery: I'm sorry for disturbing you...

Necra: Don't worry about it. The show isn't until tomorrow night. We're just trying to get everything ready.

Avery: Oh. Where's Ex and the kids?

Necra: Back home. You know I caught your match on the flight here...

Avery: Yeah? It went better then the last one.

Necra: I noticed. You'll do just fine. It takes time to get what you want, but you'll get it in the end...

The officer soon opens the door that lead to where the cells sat and turns motioning for Avery to walk inside. Avery nods and turns back to where Necra had stood, but now she was gone. Avery sighs, and shakes her head as the scene fades to black.

Act 2: Memories

The scene reopens on the beautiful city of Atlanta Georgia. The sun was bright in the sky, against a bright blue sky. The temperature had already started to change, and warming up by the day. The camera moves over the city, taking in the vast harbor that the city sat behind, and the busy streets filled with traffic. The smells from the local restaurants mixed with the sea air, and the sounds of the seagulls mixed with the birds that could be found on wing. The camera moves to a massive building and we see that it is the Georgia Aquarium. The camera moves to the interior of the building, and in the dim light we can see Avery and Johnny with her daughter Gracie and their little boy JJ. They walk by sea lions and stop for a moment watching the creatures play in the water. The kids laugh before moving on.

Avery: (Voice Over) I've seen a lot of things in my life, but one thing still sticks out in my mind. The first time I ever seen something that shouldn't exist I didn't want to believe it, but you can't deny what is in front of you. I think that's how I felt when I won my first title. When I got to my feet, and held that piece of gold in my hands, it was like it wasn't real but it was. My next match... I don't even know what to really think about it. I have two chances to challenge for titles, or even if I am the last one standing I get the title that I want to get my hands on. This match isn't going to be that easy but I will do whatever it takes to win against the two of you.

Avery walks along in silence as if lost in thought. Johnny looks over at her, and takes her hand in his.

Johnny: You alright?

Avery snaps from her thoughts and nods.

Avery: Yeah, just thinking that's all.

Johnny; About what?

Avery: About my match that's coming up...

Johnny: Are you sure? I mean you've been distant since we got in here.

Avery sighs as they continue to walk along the exhibits.

Avery: I really can't talk about it.

Johnny: I've never known you not to say anything about something. What is it?

Avery looks around where they are, and moves to the hallways that extended out from where they stood.

Johnny: What are you looking for?

Avery: It's not what, its who... It looks like they're not here. When I was younger and out exploring the world, we ended up in a spot under water.

Johnny: Like on a submarine or...

Avery: It was an underwater base, that was studying something that shouldn't exist. We were sent there because they had information that we needed and well it didn't go according to plan. But then again, nothing ever did.

Johnny: Do I even want to know?

Avery: Not really, but there was an explosion and well... Lets just say that if we hadn't gotten to the surface I wouldn't be standing here today.

Johnny: So what happened?

Avery: That I'm not sure of... All I know is that we woke up on an island and there was this young looking guy. He said that we kept his people safe from whatever they were planning. So when the place exploded we stopped it. He gave us each a necklace...

Johnny seems to be lost in thought as he folds his arms across his chest.

Johnny: That shell necklace that is your jewelry box?

Avery nods.

Avery: Yeah. I don't like to talk about my younger days. There's things that are still kind of fuzzy.

Gracie comes running up to them and smiles softly.

Gracie: Da you have to come and see the sharks! They're amazing!

Avery smiles.

Avery: Go on. I'm going to take a bit of a break, and I'll meet up with you in a few minutes.

Johnny: Alright. Come on Gracie. We'll give your mom a little time by herself.

He kisses Avery as Gracie takes the stroller and starts to run with it, leaving Avery alone. She walks along the exhibits and soon stops in front of an aquarium full of jellyfish that floated silently. She takes a deep breath and sighs as she watches them glide in silence.

Avery: Do you know what it's like to have lapse in memory? It could be I've been hit one to many times in the head, or maybe its the all of the drink that I've had over the years. There are things that I know that happened and there are other pieces that feel like a dream as if it never happened. I am a decedent of a man that faced the banshee and lived, turned the Morrigan away because of the love of his wife and I know that I carry the passion, the strength of him. Astra you said I glow, but I'm not sure what you mean. I mean I'm human and maybe I carry a light that I don't know about but I've done things... Things even I regret.

She continues to stare at the jelly fish watching them move slowly.

Avery: Astra you don't seem to understand one thing about me. I am a fighter, I will fight at a drop of a hat, and if it comes to it, I'm not afraid to bleed or to make anyone else bleed to get what I want. I will not let you or Brittani stand in my way to get to the top. I know that you see that I am honest, but that's just the way I was raised. My family did some dishonest things, but me... Well... Ok maybe I am more honest then the others. But that will never change who I am in the ring.

She starts to walk along the dimly lit hallway passing by other creatures behind the thick glass.

Avery: You know Astra you remind me a lot of Necra. You can see both sides, and the good and evil in everyone. You're neither good nor bad, but you do what you must, and that's what I'm going to do. If I have to stand against the two of you to get to the top and not stop until both of you are on the mat or tossed out of the ring, then that's alright. The way I see it there are three ways to win, even if it means I'll have to find help in the end then so be it. I have friends and family willing to help with that. But I will claw my way to the top just like I always have when the odds were against me. They always seem to be...

She stops in front of tank full of manta rays and sting rays. They moved in silence, and seemed to move with grace and flowed with the water.

Avery: Astra you asked me why I want the crown, and the answer is simple and it's the same as it has always been for me. I want to prove myself against the rest. I've stood against insane people, I've stood against death herself, men that cannot die, and beasts that should never have existed. I'm not afraid of anyone that I have stood against, but I am cautious. I mean this isn't going to be an easy match and I'm not going to underestimate you by any means. That would be stupid of me now wouldn't it? Astra I don't and won't hold anything against you in the end of this match. I see you as a possible allie eventually and even friends, but just know I will not take it easy on you. I will give you a fight because I know you're going to do the same thing for me.

She smiles softly as she starts walking along the hallway once again.

Avery: Brittani, I see you're coming back for more. I guess I didn't beat the holy hell out of you enough last time huh? I guess I'll have to do a batter job then. But the more I think about it, Astra's right about you. All you care about is money, power, legacy and prestige. I hate to tell you in the end, nothing will ever remain. We come into this world alone and we die alone, and we can't take anything with us so why bother making money when you're on this side of the ground? So you can shove it in people's faces, make other people jealous? I mean I have money, hell my family is wealthy, and have been for a very long time, but I don't flaunt what I have. I don't think I ever have. But then I don't really claim that I'm better than anyone either. I've managed to win matches and I've lost matches, but that doesn't mean I don't have any skill. You are so full of yourself and you don't see what's coming. You know it's going to be two against one, until you are out of the picture don't you?

She soon reaches a small gift shop and enters looking around at the knick knacks as the bright lights buzz overhead. A young woman sits behind the counter not looking up from her phone, as Avery winds her way through the shelves.

Avery: Brittani I will never understand the way of business, but I have always managed to learn quickly. Plus I have an advantage, my dear friend Necra is a business woman that has managed to take the fashion world by storm and I have to admit she's better than you in that aspect, but in the middle of that ring... Well you already know what I can do and what I'm going to do again. You think you have me figured out but you don't. I can be unpredictable and that's never good. I don't plan on letting you walk away with what I want, and if that means I have to beat your pretty face in then I guess I'll have to do it.

Avery laughs as she grabs two little stuffed animals from a large pile and pays for them as the young woman sits almost stunned at who she is face to face to. Avery nods and walks off heading back out into the dimness of the building.

Avery: Brittani I'm not even sure if there is really anything for me to say to you that I haven't said before. You sit in your ivory tower looking out over a city that doesn't even know that you exist. I've traveled the world and people outside the wrestling world knows my name. But you, you're just another business woman in a sea of suits that no one cares about. I am going to take such joy in this match, you see this is where it all ends for you Brittani and begins for me once again. You didn't learn your lesson the last time that we met but I'm going to make sure you do this time. I hope you are ready for what is coming for you, because I know I am and trust me this time won't be any different then what happened last time between us.

She rounds a corner and sees Johnny and the kids sitting at a table. She smiles softly and starts heading toward them.

Avery: (Voice Over) "When I raise my flashing sword, and my hand takes hold on judgment, I will take vengeance upon mine enemies, and I will repay those who hate me. Oh, Lord, raise me to Thy right hand and count me among Thy saints."

Avery reaches them and hands them the small stuffed animals, before kissing Johnny as the scene fades to black.