Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to WSW Revolt! We are coming to you LIVE from the electric Babu Banarasi Das Indoor Stadium in Lucknow, UP! The road to WSW Clash For Supremacy is heating up—and everything that unfolds tonight raises the stakes even higher. Let’s get it started!

I don’t see red. I don’t see blue. Those colors are for the ones still begging for identity. Me? I stand above the spectrum. Every inch of this empire — every light, every shadow — bears three letters that belong to me. WSW. The system. The structure. The throne. All mine.

Alan’s face. Ripper Ace (smirking): Get used to the view. Alan McIntyre: I’M GONNA RIP YOUR HEAD OFF! Ripper Ace never breaking eye contact, smirk still on his face. He taps the WSW title with his hand. The message delivered. The show goes off the air.

Alan barreling toward Ace. But before he can do more damage, a wave of more guards flood the ramp, swarming him from every side. Alan roars, trying to break free. His eyes are red with rage. He’s thrashing like a wild animal. Ripper Ace slowly raises the WSW Title — right in

twisting into something cruel) Feels bad, huh? For you... and your old man. Suddenly, Alan snaps. With a brutal twist he rips free, driving one guard hard enough to send him sprawling, then storms forward and headbutts another. For a breath the crowd erupts as chaos reigns.

wider — slow, cold. He takes off his shades, looks Alan straight in the eye. Ripper Ace (calm but lethal): I can walk in here whenever I want and end you. Whose show this is? I don’t give a damn. This whole place… WSW… It’s mine.. you can’t do a thing. (tilts his head, smile

restraining him as he thrashes violently. Alan’s veins are bulging, his face blood-red. He’s screaming at Ace, inches away, the heat between them feels like it could melt steel. Alan McIntyre (furious roar): YOU’RE DEAD, MOTHERF***ER! YOU HEAR ME?! DEAD! Ripper Ace just smiles

eyes locked on Ace like a predator. Ripper Ace doesn’t move. He just stands there, smiling. Alan charges up the ramp. Alan gets nose to nose with him — breathing heavy, jaw tight. And then — SECURITY rushes in, grabbing Alan before he can swing. They grab him from behind,

titantron flickers and there he is. Ripper Ace, standing at the top of the ramp in that same white suit, smirking. The crowd erupts in chaos. Alan freezes in the ring for a moment, rage overtaking every inch of him. Then—he bolts out of the ring. He’s sprinting toward the ramp,

heavier. He drops the useless mic. His hands shake, his nostrils flare. The crowd is going wild. Alan storms toward the ropes. Alan McIntyre (furious): I’LL KILL YOU! RIGHT HERE! RIGHT NOW! YOU’RE NOT WALKING OUT OF THIS ARENA ALIVE! Suddenly — Ripper Ace’s music hits. The

hair back. Alan’s eyes widen — veins popping in his neck. His jaw locks tight. Alan McIntyre (screaming): WHERE ARE YOU, BITCH?! TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE RIGHT NOW! Ripper Ace chuckles — softly. Deadly. Ripper Ace: Don’t panic, hero... He’s still alive. Alan’s breathing gets

(Camera lowers down slowly — the crowd gasps.) Lying on the cold floor behind Ace — #JonathanJoestar. Blood pouring down his face. Shirt torn. Bruises all over his body. His hands twitch weakly. He’s breathing ragged, eyes half-open. Ripper Ace crouches beside him, brushing his

soft but venomous) So I decided to pay you back a little visit here at Revolt. Time to show… how it’s done. I heard you talking earlier about the color red. You said you love it. (his grin widens, sinister) So I thought I’d give you something special... A little red surprise.

I mean that. But I do have a problem with someone else. (Tilts head, removes his shades slowly) Someone who had the audacity to show up on ShowDown… step into my ring—and run his damn mouth. Told me that Alan McIntyre is this… Alan McIntyre is that... (chuckles, smiles, voice

(leans forward, voice lowers) Because from this point… you don’t speak. You listen. (Points at his own ear, calm, menacing) You understand that? Crowd: “BOOOO!” Alan grits his teeth, staring daggers through the screen. Ripper Ace: See, Alan… I don’t have a problem with you.

He’s in a white designer suit, snow-white shirt, black tie, polished shoes. Black shades hide his eyes. Crowd: “BOOOOOOOO!” Alan stands in the middle of the ring, jaw clenched, staring daggers at the screen. Ripper Ace (smirking, cold tone): That mic won’t work anymore, Alan.

slaps the mic again. No sound. He throws a glare toward the stage. The crowd buzzes louder. Suddenly — the titantron flickers. On the titantron — stands The Kingpin, @WSWRipperAce. WSW Championship rests across his shoulder. WSW Tag Team Championship wrapped around his waist.

the mic again… but suddenly — STATIC. The sound dies. The mic stops working. The crowd murmurs in confusion. Alan pats it twice, slaps the mic against his hand — nothing. The sound technician at ringside looks panicked. Alan McIntyre (confused, shouting): What the hell—? He

you’ll have to pin me in the center of that damn ring. (Alan pauses, then explodes in anger — voice echoing through the arena.) And dammit — You can’t! (snarls) YOU CAN’T! (Crowd erupts. Alan’s eyes blaze with fury as he slams his fist into his chest.) Alan McIntyre raises

one clash it was born to witness. But make no mistake, Ace — this isn’t the same Alan McIntyre you faced years ago. You’re not dealing with Alan Page (His voice rises with ferocity.) It won’t be like before — where you could throw me out of the ring and celebrate. No, this time,

circles the ring again. Alan McIntyre: Fate… has a strange way of working, doesn’t it? (Nods.) No matter how far two enemies drift apart… destiny always finds a way to pull them back together. Face to face. One more time. It’s like the universe waits… for that collision. The