Fireworks explode across the stage as the opening video rolls — a thunderous guitar riff under clips of chaotic action: ladder crashes, finisher impacts, crowd pops. The screen flashes with the logo — IN THE ZONE — before cutting to The WrestleZone at Universal Studios, packed wall-to-wall with screaming fans under a sea of red and silver lights.

John Phillips: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another electric edition of IN THE ZONE — and folks, we are just FOUR DAYS away from the biggest night of the year — WrestleUTA: 25!"

Mark Bravo: "This is what it's all about, Johnny! Twenty-five years of grit, glory, and greatness — and you better believe the Orlando crew is ready to throw hands with the world watching!"

Phillips: "That's right — WrestleUTA: Orlando will be well represented in Las Vegas this Sunday night. The flamboyant phenom Mr. Juan Calderon will be strutting into the spotlight. 'Big Time' Brandon Henderson looks to turn heads on the grandest stage."

Bravo: "Not to mention our top dogs — the WrestleZone Champion himself, Aaron Shaffer, and the Florida State Champion, Jarvis Valentine! Shaffer’s never met a spotlight he didn’t like — and Jarvis? That man’s got redemption on his mind after what happened in the UTA Title match!"

Phillips: "The countdown is on, and tonight... tonight may just be the final opportunity for momentum. Settling scores, sending messages, and maybe even stealing the spotlight before the biggest night of the year."

The camera pans across signs in the crowd — “WRESTLEZONE WARRIORS,” “SHAFFER 4 CHAMP,” “CALDERÓN STYLE,” “BRING THE PAIN, BRAVO!” — before focusing back on the commentary desk.

Bravo: "WrestleUTA: 25 is gonna change lives — but first? Let’s blow the roof off this place right here, right now. Let’s get IN THE ZONE!"

The music hits again and we fade into the first match graphic of the night.

The lights dim in The WrestleZone as swirling spotlights sweep across the crowd. A mist rolls down the ramp, barely catching the glow of pale blue LEDs. The crowd buzzes in anticipation.

John Phillips: "Get ready for something surreal — the ring’s about to become a stage for two masters of illusion."

Suddenly, the lights twist and converge at the entrance curtain. Through the fog glides Timothy Wong, silent, composed, eyes locked on the ring. Every movement is deliberate — like he’s already imagined the outcome.

Mark Bravo: "This dude doesn’t walk, he floats. Like he’s already five steps ahead."

Wong ascends the steps and slips between the ropes in one fluid motion, then vanishes behind a swirl of his black-and-red cloak as the crowd murmurs.

Then darkness.

A single spotlight pierces the fog as Alexander Hill emerges in all black, his long coat trailing behind him. His face emotionless, eyes scanning the crowd like a predator choosing a mark.

Phillips: "Here comes the master of psychological warfare — Alexander Hill. This is going to be like watching a chess match explode into a kung fu movie."

Hill steps between the ropes without breaking eye contact with Wong. Neither man moves. The bell rings, and the silence shatters with a furious exchange.

The two circle, mirror images in energy. Wong strikes first with a lightning-fast Ghost Sweep — Hill jumps it clean. Hill counters with a Shadow Step Slide, clipping Wong in the leg and knocking him sideways. Wong rolls to his feet, rebounds — Sneak Attack Dropkick! But Hill vanishes below it and counters with a smooth Silent DDT.

Bravo: "They’re trading illusions like magicians pulling rabbits outta flaming hats!"

Wong slithers out of a pin and strikes with a Night Whisper Neckbreaker, whipping the arena into a pop. He follows up with his Phantom Spear — but Hill sidesteps at the last second and twistsinto a Blackout Knee Strike right to the jaw!

Phillips: "Down goes Wong! That knee — that could’ve cracked the arena floor!"

Hill doesn’t cover. He backs into the corner and ascends the turnbuckles like a shadow scaling a wall. The crowd rises — he flies — PHANTOM PIERCE! But Wong rolls out at the last millisecond!

The two collapse, both slow to rise. The crowd chants: "THIS IS AWESOME!"

Wong kips up out of nowhere! Ripcord Knee! Hill staggers — Wong traps him — Spectral Driver!!!

Phillips: "HE PLANTED HIM!"

Wong hooks the leg!

1!

2!

Thr—NO!! Hill kicks out!

Bravo: "He just escaped the void!"

Wong adjusts, sliding into the Haunting Hold — twisting Hill’s limbs into impossible angles. Hill claws forward, desperation cracking through the calm. He reaches… lunges… foot on the rope!

Wong breaks on four, backflips away into the shadows of the corner. He watches… waiting…

Hill stumbles up, and Wong vanishes between the ropes — only to springboard in with a corkscrew — VEIL PIERCER! Lights out!

Wong covers!

1!

2!

3!

Phillips: "That’s it! Timothy Wong steals the spotlight!"

The bell rings. Wong rises without emotion, breathing deep, then bows subtly before slipping through the ropes and disappearing into the mist once again.

Bravo: "That was art. And if you blinked… you missed half of it."

The screen cuts to a split-screen replay of key moments — the Ripcord Knee, Blackout Strike, and the final Veil Piercer — as the crowd roars its approval.

Backstage, the lights are low and the WrestleUTA: Orlando banner glows behind a standing camera. In the center stands Aaron Shaffer — the WrestleZone Champion — belt over his shoulder, eyes locked on the lens like it personally owes him something.

Aaron Shaffer: "I know what they’re sayin’."

He lifts his chin.

Shaffer: "‘Shaffer didn’t win the Rumble.’
Cool. Let 'em talk. Let 'em whine about stats and eliminations and what could’ve been."

He taps the gold faceplate on the WrestleZone Championship.

Shaffer: "While they’re talkin’? I’m climbin’."

He leans in slightly, intensity building.

Shaffer: "I may not have stood tall at the end of that chaos, but I did exactly what I needed to do — I survived. I secured my place in the Ace in the Hole ladder match at WrestleUTA: 25."

He smirks — just a sliver of ego breaking through the stoic front.

Shaffer: "And once I climb that ladder, once I take down that briefcase? My name — Aaron Shaffer— becomes a household one. Nationwide. Worldwide."

He shifts the title to his other shoulder and nods.

Shaffer: "I’ll still be the WrestleZone Champion… but I’ll also be Mr. Ace in the Hole. And then? Then I’m callin’ my shot."

Shaffer: "UTA Championship. Mine."

Shaffer holds his stare, the confidence now palpable. No grin. Just certainty.

Shaffer: "Enjoy your moments while you can, boys. I’m not waitin’ for a miracle. I’m takin’ the whole damn mountain."

With that, he throws the title back over his shoulder and walks off — no music, no fanfare. Just purpose.

Phillips (V.O.): "He may be the future, but Aaron Shaffer’s treating it like the now."

Bravo (V.O.): "If confidence won championships, he’d already be undisputed!"

We return to the roar of the crowd, the WrestleZone cameras sweeping across the electric audience. A graphic flashes on the screen:

Florida State Women's Championship Match
Angela Hall (c) vs. Carolyn Daniel

John Phillips: "Here we go! Title action in the women’s division — and this one has the potential to be explosive."

Mark Bravo: "You got raw aggression on one side, and tactical velocity on the other. The champ better have her head on a swivel."

The arena lights dim to a deep red glow. Chains rattle over the speakers. Carolyn Daniel storms onto the stage, hair wild, fists clenched, and a snarl stretched across her face. She marches to the ring like it owes her money.

Phillips: "Daniel’s been tearing through everyone put in front of her — tonight’s her biggest test yet."

She climbs the steps, grabs the top rope, and HOWLS to the crowd, her battle cry echoing through the WrestleZone.

Suddenly — a flash of blue lightning tears across the tron. The lights snap to white, and out strides the Florida State Women’s Champion, Angela Hall, focused, powerful, title glinting on her shoulder. She slaps hands on the way down, but her eyes never leave the ring.

Bravo: "That’s a sprinter’s tunnel vision, baby. She's dialed in."

Hall climbs in, raises the title high, and hands it to the referee. The bell rings — and it’s on.

Daniel blitzes early with a Savage Lariat, but Hall ducks — rebounds — Lightning Bolt Lariat of her own! Daniel staggers but doesn’t fall. Hall charges again — Thunderclap Spear!

Phillips: "Angela Hall hitting the gas early!"

Daniel grabs the ropes to break the momentum, but Hall springboards off the middle rope — Storm Surge Moonsault! One! Two—Kickout!

Daniel shoves Hall off, slams her with a brutal Feral Spinebuster, then drags her to the apron. She hoists Hall up — Apron Powerbomb! The champ crashes hard!

Bravo: "That’s the setup! This is how she ends careers!"

Daniel rolls Hall in and lifts her for the Hellish Driver — but Hall wriggles free mid-air! Lands behind her — Twister Slam! The ring shakes!

Hall seizes the moment — double underhooks — lifts — HURRICANE HAMMER!!!

Phillips: "Outta nowhere! That’s her finisher!"

Cover!

1!

2!

3!

The bell rings as the crowd explodes in a chorus of cheers and gasps.

Ring Announcer: "Here is your winner… and STILL the Florida State Women’s Champion — ANGELA HALL!"

Hall sits up, catching her breath, the title handed back into her arms. She slowly rises, raising it above her head as Daniel rolls to the outside, glaring back with fury smoldering in her eyes.

Bravo: "The champ proved it again — she doesn’t just survive. She strikes when you least expect it."

Phillips: "Carolyn Daniel took her to the edge, but Angela Hall weathered the storm and retained her crown just days before WrestleUTA: 25!"

The camera fades out on Angela Hall standing tall in the center of the ring, defiant and victorious — title hoisted, sweat dripping, heart racing.

Backstage, under the glow of a WrestleUTA: Orlando banner, Brandon Henderson stands alone. A black towel around his neck. His gear still scuffed from earlier sparring. The camera zooms in close — no music, no flash, just raw energy behind his eyes.

Brandon Henderson: "I know what you’re thinkin’."

He takes a breath, steady but intense.

Henderson: "Nobody expected me to get a shot at anything at Rumble in the WrestleZone. Not even a sniff at a ladder match. Not even a look from the suits backstage."

He shrugs, but the heat’s in his voice now.

Henderson: "But here I am. Four days away from WrestleUTA: 25. One of the few with a ticket to the dance. Ace in the Hole. Ladder match. Career-changing stakes."

He leans in slightly, towel now off his shoulders.

Henderson: "I don’t have a legacy yet. I don’t have a fancy nickname or a fifteen-minute highlight reel. What I’ve got is hunger. What I’ve got is focus. And what I’ve got now… is opportunity."

He taps a finger to the camera lens.

Henderson: "You don’t just wait for these moments. You seize them. You grip them so tight they leave scars on your palms. Because I guarantee you this — when that bell rings in Dallas, I'm not just there to make up the numbers."

Henderson: "I’m there to make history."

He stares down the lens, sweat forming on his brow, breathing a little heavier now — not from exhaustion, but from fire building inside.

Henderson: "Ace in the Hole? That’s gonna be me. Believe it or don’t. But you’ll see."

He walks off, slow and deliberate, leaving the camera focused on the empty backdrop — until it fades out into static and transitions back to the arena.

The camera returns to the WrestleZone with a roar. Fans are standing, signs are waving, and the lights dim once more as the main event graphic flashes:

Main Event — Florida State Championship
Jarvis Valentine (c) vs. B.R. Ellis

John Phillips: "We end tonight with a technical showcase and championship stakes — B.R. Ellis challenges Jarvis Valentine for the Florida State Title!"

Mark Bravo: "Ellis is a mat surgeon, Phillips. But Jarvis? He’s got iron in his fists and fire in his gut. This one’s gonna get real, real fast."

A single spotlight beams onto the stage as the arena falls into respectful silence. Crisp, orchestral strings hit with pulsing drums — a Greco-Roman theme builds in intensity. B.R. Ellis steps onto the ramp in a blue-and-gold singlet, focused as ever.

Phillips: "No frills. No flash. Just skill. B.R. Ellis isn’t here for hype — he’s here for victory."

Ellis bows briefly to the crowd, then marches to the ring, rolls in, adjusts his knee pads, and cracks his knuckles in the center of the ring. He doesn’t look away from the entrance ramp.

The lights go red, white, and blue. "American Flags" by Tom MacDonald hits. Pyro bursts like fireworks across the stage as Jarvis Valentine steps into the spotlight, the Florida State Championship gleaming over his shoulder.

Bravo: "Now THAT’S how a champion arrives!"

Jarvis pauses mid-ramp, raises a hand in the shape of a subtle ‘Q’ — the crowd pops, fans raising signs with 17s and stars. Jarvis nods to the people, then steps into the ring like he owns it. He hands the title to the referee, eyes locked on Ellis.

Phillips: "Respect in the air. Gold on the line. Let’s do this."

The bell rings. The two circle. Jarvis swings early with a Discus Clothesline — Ellis ducks under and hits a Snap Suplex clean!

Ellis keeps the grip — German Suplex! Rolls through — Headlock Takeover! He’s chaining like a machine!

Phillips: "Ellis is three steps ahead! That’s the chain-wrestling brilliance we’ve come to expect."

Valentine rolls to escape, uses his strength to shove Ellis off. Ellis charges back in — Jarvis counters with a Sidewalk Slam that thuds off the mat!

Bravo: "That’s what Jarvis brings — impact you can feel through the screen."

Ellis fights back with a Mat Scholar Special — snap DDT into a gut-wrench suplex — but Valentine lands on his feet and drops Ellis with a sudden Running Bulldog!

Momentum swings wildly — Ellis locks in the Lockjaw Lock mid-match, targeting Jarvis’s arm! Jarvis claws, twists — and reaches the ropes!

Phillips: "That could’ve ended it! If Jarvis hadn’t known exactly where he was, we’d have a new champ!"

Ellis lifts for the Olympic Slam — but Jarvis blocks, elbows out, hoists Ellis onto his shoulders — PATRIOT PLUNGE! The crowd erupts!

Jarvis doesn’t stop. He spins Ellis, grabs the arm — Q DROP!!! Drilled into the canvas!

He covers — hooks the leg.

1!

2!

3!

The bell rings and the crowd is on their feet as "American Flags" hits once again.

Ring Announcer: "Here is your winner — and STILL Florida State Champion… JARVIS VALENTINE!"

Valentine rises, holding his arm in pain but lifting the title proudly. Ellis kneels, nodding slowly in acknowledgment of the battle he just went through.

Jarvis walks over — offers a hand. Ellis accepts. The two shake with mutual respect, and the crowd claps in approval.

Phillips: "What a match. A battle of technique, heart, and championship pride — and it’s Jarvis Valentine who walks into WrestleUTA: 25 with momentum on his side."

Bravo: "You know what I’m thinking? This guy might not just be the Florida State Champ for long — he could be on the path to something bigger."

The camera lingers on Jarvis raising the title one more time as we fade out on the final image — the Florida State Champion standing tall under the red, white, and blue.