File Under: Survival, the Woodsboro Warriors emerge victorious in a death match 

By Leigh Patrick, October 29 2025—

On a foggy, fear-filled night, witnesses watched as Ripley Prescott moved — as if possessed by something darker, controlling every one of her movements. The Woodsboro Warriors claimed victory, but not unscathed, on this tragic Saturday. 

The ritual began as usual: whispered prayers, dark red mud smeared on cheeks, grass blessed by the sweat and tears, ingested during chanting. “We are one,” Nancy Strobe and Laurie Thompson said, faces cold and still as they took their places. 

“We strive for survival,” Prescott said. The others whistled sharply in response.

The lights flickered as the Warriors filed out. Witnesses sat, glued to their seats, as the death match began. The Warriors moved as one, quick and precise as if they had mapped out exactly where their opponents would be hiding. They faced the Springwood Slashers, teeth tearing up the ground as they charged from one end to the other. Strobe seemed to blend into the night, becoming shadow as she dodged the barred blades of her opponents.  

Strobe broke through, swift and sure. Her blow was clean and merciless. The crowd erupted, but she didn’t seem to hear. Her eyes locked on the aftermath. There was a new heaviness after that. Things got bloodier, harsher, darker.

The Slashers struck back with a dark vengeance, ready to bury their opponents in their own dirt. Each strike harsher than the last. The ground pulsed greedily as it absorbed the sweat and blood. 

It wasn’t long before the Warriors lost their edge as girl after girl went down. Meyer led the Slashers, using the now blood and sweat-slicked ground to her advantage. Still, the Warriors fought with teeth. Keeping themselves within arm’s distance of their fateful opponents. 

Prescott, Thompson and Strobe led the Warriors, fighting as though it were the last time they ever would. Prescott struck, fog thickened and cold clung to the field. In a blur, Strobe made a strike, evening the score. The air seemed to groan with the weight of the moment as Strobe danced in a moment of victory, the mood took a haunting turn. 

“I’ll never forget the scream from Thompson’s mouth when she tried to warn Strobe,” Dewey Weathers, a witness on the scene, said. 

In an instant, Strobe crashed to the ground. Silence fell, and the world paused. 

It wasn’t just that she had dropped, nor that Myers had attacked her. It was the unnatural way her leg bent, like a marionette with snapped strings. Strobe didn’t scream. That was the worst part. She just lay there. Eyes wide, breath shallow. Prescott and Thompson were at her side, coaxing her up with a heavy fear. It took longer than usual to get Strobe to a safe place, where doctors swarmed her in concern. 

The Warriors reported something had changed in Prescott after that.

“It was like something supernatural came over her. She wasn’t just good ol’ Ripley Prescott anymore… She was out for blood,” Thompson said reverently. 

The second half turned darker. Moving as though possessed, the Warriors charged against the Slashers. Prescott’s movements were jarring, inhuman in her speed and power as she pelted blow after blow. There was no hesitation, no fear in her strikes, only a cold precision. 

The Slashers seemed to welcome the challenge, glinting smiles as they charged right back. Prescott was thriving on the energy, but she was hardly unscathed. In an interview after the match, scratches could be seen on her arms and legs, and a faint black eye was starting to show. 

“I didn’t feel any of it happen,” Prescott said, gesturing to her injuries. “It was like I was channelling something. As soon as I saw what happened to Strobe, I knew I couldn’t stand to let them win.”

The climax arrived with moments left, as Thompson assisted Prescott in taking down the Slashers and sealing their win. The final blow was quick, a guillotine slamming down. The Slashers had no time to react. 

They had lost.

The fog lifted, and the scoreboard blinked. The Warriors win, 5-4. It was a match, yes — but it felt more like a final girl clawing her way to the end. A horror story come to life. And like any good horror story, only one side made it out alive. 

The Woodsboro Warriors will advance to the Thriller Cup in two weeks. The Springwood Slashers have a chance to redeem themselves next weekend when they play The Final Girls at A24 Stadium.

“We play together, for each other,” Prescott said after the game. “We are one.”