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Get ready Hawfest, and get ready for an explosive fun time, because Islandwide Wrestling is rolling back into Little Current and this is not your calm summer stop anymore. This is slamming good times, hawmakers galore, and slobber knocking chaos that’s been building since last year and is finally ready to break loose all at once.

Since that debut, Islandwide Wrestling has done one thing better than anything else. It has grown teeth. Not quietly. Not politely. Just week after week across Northern Ontario with Canadian Wrestling’s Elite, turning every stop into the same story. Somebody walks in confident. Somebody walks out wondering what just hit them and whether their ribs are still in the right place.

Elliot Lake, Sudbury, North Bay. Same pattern every time. Different victims.

And at this point the names coming through this company don’t need introductions, but they get them anyway. Brian Kendrick slipping into a locker room like he already knows how it ends. Austin Aries treating rules like they are optional background noise. EC3 walking in like he is collecting on something the business forgot it owed him a long time ago. That is the level now. That is the standard. That is where bone crushing reality starts.

And right in the middle of all of it stands Rusty Blackwell, the Islandwide Champion, the Backwoods Butcher. A man who does not carry a title so much as he drags it through fights, through chaos, through bad decisions and worse nights, and dares anyone to take it off him if they can manage to survive the attempt. He lost it once. Just once. Chad Daniels took it in January and for a moment everything in Islandwide Wrestling tilted sideways. Then March came. Steel cage in AOK. And Blackwell took it back in a way nobody is forgetting anytime soon. Whatever version of him existed before that cage is gone. Now there is only what came out the other side.

And that version has Rush Rancid in his sights.

Rusty has not been subtle about it. He does not need to be. Backstage he said Rush talks like chaos is something to be proud of, but chaos does not win fights, it just starts them. Then he added the kind of line that hangs in the air a little too long. If Kross thinks he can turn Manitoulin into a playground, he is going to learn real quick this place does not play along.

Rush Rancid answered just as cold. He said Blackwell talks like he is the storm, but he has been through worse weather than him. And when pushed further, it was even simpler. If he wants control, he is going to lose it the moment I show up. That is the fight right there. Just two men talking like the ending is already scheduled and they are both trying to make sure it is their version that gets written.

And then the Cult of Kross steps in, because of course they do. Kevyn Kross and his crew do not arrive like a team. They arrive like damage. Rush Rancid especially has been tearing through Ontario like a man who forgot there are rules and decided that is everyone else’s problem, not his. Petawawa last weekend turned into a wire brawl that stopped being a match the moment the ropes stopped mattering. Steel, chaos, bodies flying, nothing looking controlled anymore. Now that same energy is headed straight for Manitoulin Island. The only real question is not whether Rush shows up at Hawfest. It is how much of Hawfest is still standing when he leaves.

And tag team wrestling might be worse. The Double D’s spent months bending the Islandwide Tag Division into something they could exploit. Shock and Haw last year saw them leave with the gold and every defence after that looked like a mix of timing, shortcuts, and just enough bending of the rules to keep everyone arguing about what they just watched.

But the Northern Standard stopped arguing and started finishing things. On June 13 in North Bay, in front of a crowd that sounded like it might rip the building apart, Paul Wright and Adam Parks finally took the titles back. No shortcuts. No confusion. Just a clean ending and a loud crowd that knew exactly what it saw.

And still, nothing feels settled. Because the Double D’s have not gone quiet. Derek Diggler called it simple. They did not lose anything. They are just not holding it right now. Danny Diggler followed it with something even colder. Northern Standard had their moment, and moments do not last when pressure shows up. No hesitation. Just the kind of confidence that usually shows up right before things get messy again.

Paul Wright answered it straight. “They can call it whatever helps them sleep. We care about who is still standing when the talking stops.” Adam Parks made it even simpler “They look for openings. We close them.”

Now the champions walk into Hawfest with gold on their shoulders and a need to deliver devastating blows and hawmakers coming on every side, fully aware the division has not stopped circling them for a second. Because the Double D’s may be out of the picture, but the problem is not.

The Empire are waiting like they have already figured this thing out, but the Davincis are back like an argument that never really ended. And the Cult of Kross does not wait at all. They show up when things start to crack. And this year’s Hawfest is starting to crack.

But this is not just about what is already burning. It is about what is coming back.

DC Wylde returns to Manitoulin Island as the final SAW Champion, stepping back into a place that has not seen him in a decade. Alongside him, Vinnie and Diego Davinci bring SAW history back into the present like it never stopped mattering. DC Wylde did not dress it up. He said “I hears a lot of names, but I does not hear a lot of proof.” Just a line that lands on everyone at once.

The Davincis didn’t blink. Vinnie said he left this place in his memory and they kept building. Diego said “History does not pause for anyone.” DC’s answer is just as simple “I didn’t come back for nostalgia. I came back for unfinished fights and to settle the score.” And the Davincis do not look phased by any of this.

Then there is the Islandwide Rumble. Over fifteen men. One ring. No safety. No alliances that survive long enough to matter. Last year it created a champion in Rusty Blackwell. This year it creates the Hawberry Cup winner, a guaranteed title shot for a full year, which is just another way of saying one night of chaos turns into a long stretch of consequences.

Tommy McCloud calls it “a situation that got out of hand at exactly the wrong time.” Slater Jacobs calls it an opportunity to exert his will on people. “If you are not willing to hurt somebody, stay out of the ring.”

Sgt. Commando brings structure and discipline into the chaos. Riot brings unpredictability that does not care about structure. Fanboy and Superfan bring noise that refuses to behave.

And then there is TJV. Wikwemikong’s own warrior. Six foot two, 245 pounds, and carrying a year of delay that turned into frustration and focus. Last year his debut was taken from him by injury before it even began. Now he comes back healthy and very clear about what this is. “I’m ready to show these fans and these competitors what it means to be on unceded territory!” And when asked about the Rumble, he said he is not here for a easy landing. He is here to clear space with someone’s face. “So Hawfest, you’re not just a festival anymore. You’re a battle ground!”

All of this drama only helps to set the stage for what is sure to be a slamming good time. It’s carnage and violence a plenty. It is slobber knocking chaos waiting to spill out in every direction at once.

Rusty Blackwell walks in with a legacy already following him. Northern Standard walks in with gold and targets everywhere they turn. DC Wylde walks in like this opportunity owes him something. And TJV walks in like he is done waiting for permission and ready to claim what’s his.

Batten down the hatches, Little Current. Because when that bell rings, this is not a show anymore. It is fists and boots looking for somewhere to land.