ADRENALINE E36 – TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY (059)


ADRENALINE E36 DECEMBER 23RD, 2015
UW – MILWAUKEE PANTHER ARENA MILWAUKEE, WI

Opening to an overhead shot of the UW – Milwaukee Panther Arena, the scene opens with a packed crowd below with only a few empty seats scattered throughout. The building rumbles as the fans wait in anticipation for the show to begin, sending 4CW into it’s third year of operations. Changing to a view from the floor, the camera spots various signs in the crowd, some sticking out more than others.

QUIT HIDING

BEHIND THAT

BLOCK BUTTON

WHERE’S DAKOTA?

WALLACE NEEDS

TO BE IMPEACHED

At ringside, Steve Johnson and Vinny Vassa sit at the announcers booth talking with one another. Zooming in, both are dressed to impress, fitting for the occasion of this big night. At the edge of the table, a bottle of whiskey rests with a half empty glass beside it. With a cigar in his mouth, Vassa quickly removes it before taking a drink from the glass. Johnson’s eyes widen as he notices the camera nudges Vassa in the arm. After straightening the papers in front of him, Johnson clears his throat as the camera zooms in to officially begin the show.

JOHNSON: “Welcome ladies and gentlemen to a very special edition of Adrenaline! Tonight we’ll be hosting our two year anniversary event! I’m your host, Steven Johnson…”

VASSA: “And I’m Vinny Vassa! Hello everyone!”

JOHNSON: “It seems just like yesterday that we were having our first event in Reno, Nevada.”

VASSA: “it doesn’t seem long ago at all but believe it or not, it was two years today when we debuted the 4CW product at the Reno Events Center.”

JOHNSON: “We’ve had some good times over the two year period. We started from the bottom and over time with hard work and dedication, we’ve climbed into the position we’re in today, leading the industry.”

VASSA: “Well aren’t you just full of it tonight? We’ve made a name for ourselves that’s for sure, but there’s still plenty to be done. Here’s to many more years…”

Vassa then holds the glass up for a toast before finishing off the whiskey and setting the empty glass back onto the booth.

JOHNSON: “Try to pace yourself, Vinny.”

VASSA: “Don’t worry about me. You need to take a drink or two and loosen up.”

JOHNSON: “I’ll be just fine with this pitcher of water. Thank you for the offer though.”

VASSA: “You never want to have any fun with me and just get wild down here at ringside. It’s always just business for you. I bet your home life is boring as fu–“

JOHNSON: “I enjoy my personal life outside of 4CW thank you very much.”

VASSA: “I’m happy for you, I guess? So, tell us what’s on the agenda for tonight!”

JOHNSON: “We have an exciting lineup for tonight, Vinny! Opening the show we have Bradley Stevens making his 4CW debut against one half of the 4CW Tag Team Champions, Aidan Carlisle.”

VASSA: “Aidan has been on a little hot streak lately. She went off two weeks ago on Bitch TV and we haven’t heard a word from them since. I hope Bradley brought his “A” game tonight because he’s going to need it.”

JOHNSON: “The more important question not answered is who will challenge for the Tag Team Championships now that Bitch TV is no longer with 4CW?”

VASSA: “That’s a good question, Steve. We have tonight and one more Adrenaline to find a challenger before Winter Wasteland. If no one steps up, I would assume that management will throw a team together to challenge.”

JOHNSON: “That’s a possibility as well.”

VASSA: “So what else do we have for the evening?”

JOHNSON: “CJ O’Donnell will step into the ring with Kat Jones.”

VASSA: “CJ has made quite a name for himself since signing fulltime with 4CW.”

JOHNSON: “Yes he has! After that, Rorie Steele will be making her debut against the other half of the Tag Team Champions, Bryan Williams.”

VASSA: “Rorie is new to the mix but damn if she isn’t drop dead gorgeous!”

JOHNSON: “She is very lovely, I will admit that.”

VASSA: “Whether you want to admit it or not, she’s fucking hot!”

JOHNSON: “You say that about every female who signs with 4CW.”

VASSA: “Am I lying?”

JOHNSON: “Before we get into our headline for the evening, we have two more pretty exciting matches in the mix. Johnny Mental will climb into the ring with Chris Madison and Cy–“

VASSA: “Will the streak continue?! Madison has been tearing through the competition since signing with 4CW!”

JOHNSON: “We shall see! Johnny Mental has been impressive himself since signing with 4CW. This could catapult him standing in 4CW.”

VASSA: “It really could, no doubt about that.”

JOHNSON: “Then we have Cyrus Riddle and Jair Hopkins going head to head!”

VASSA: “Speaking of heads, who all remembers that shot to the head Perry Wallace received from Riddle with the chair?”

JOHNSON: “That was terrible, Cyrus turned his back on his new “family” and joined the ranks of Unstable.”

VASSA: “Terrible? I thought it was fantastic!”

JOHNSON: “I’m sure it will be addressed tonight.”

VASSA: “And I’m sure Wallace will think twice before he opens that big mouth of his.”

JOHNSON: “If these first five matches weren’t enough for you all, things are going to get kicked into overdrive with our headline match!”

VASSA: “I have been looking forward to this ever since I heard it was booked.”

JOHNSON: “It’s going to be one hell of a match with the new 4CW XTV Championship on the line!”

VASSA: “Bronx Valescence and Lord Raab will challenge the champ, Jason Cashe, in a triple threat extreme rules match! This is going to be bloody as fuck!”

JOHNSON: “Just two weeks ago Cashe distracted Bronx, giving Raab the opportunity to finish him off and put him away for the win. Tonight, these two will get another go at each other and if that wasn’t enough, Cashe will also be in the mix, someone who both have a grudge against.”

VASSA: “Cashe took Bronx off the top of the cage at Fright Night with the UTI. I know Bronx hasn’t forgotten about that. Bronx was there when Unstable attacked his “father” two weeks ago. Hell, even he took a beating. This is going to be a goddamn war!”

JOHNSON: “Let’s not forget about Lord Raab! He has wanted to get his hands on Cashe for a very, very long time and tonight he will get the chance to do so.”

VASSA: “Medical staff better be on standby because I’m positive they’re going to be needed by the time this thing is all said and done.”

Vassa then takes a slow drag from his cigar before pouring himself another glass of whiskey. Looking over at him and shaking his head, Johnson just watches before looking back to the camera.

JOHNSON: “And then we have our main event!”

VASSA: “This is going to be a damn good one too. We’ve even going to reveal the newly redesigned 4CW Pride Championship!”

JOHNSON: “Jett Wilder earned the number one contender spot when he defeated Drew Stevenson just a few short weeks ago. Tonight he gets his chance to challenge for the championship as he will face John Austin with it all on the line!”

VASSA: “These two have exchanged words some on Twitter. Jett’s mom, Carmella, used to manage Austin along with his former group, Gold Standard. I must admit, I had my doubts about Jett but he’s proven myself and everyone else wrong since returning to 4CW.”

JOHNSON: “He really has. Sure, he’s still immature but if he can stay on this path he’s been on, Jett could make a name for himself and truly become a big time player in 4CW.”

VASSA: “That’s a lot easier said than done. If he can just keep his head in the game, stay off the video games, and lay off the junk food, he will develop into a better wrestler. I know it’s a long shot, but he has the potential.”

JOHNSON: “Let’s not forget about John Austin! He went head to head with Seamus on numerous occasions to win the championship. He’s really turned things around for himself in 4CW and made a name for his standalone brand.”

VASSA: “Breaking away from Gold Standard, or Gold Standard imploding on its own, has turned out to be a real blessing for Austin.”

JOHNSON: “That’s exactly right and with a win here tonight, he can solidify himself as a fighting champion.”

VASSA: “It isn’t going to be easy for either one, but whoever does walk away the winner tonight will deserve it nonetheless.”

JOHNSON: “Well that’s our lineup for the night folks! I know we can get a little long winded at times so we’ll be quiet and let you enjoy the rest of the show, at least until the bell sounds!”

VASSA: “I wish you’d be quiet for the rest of the night but I can’t ever be happy. I’ve come to accept it.”

JOHNSON: “You’re a delight yourself! We’re going to go backstage folks but when we return we will kick things off with our opening contest.”

VASSA: “Sit tight because we’re going to have some fun tonight!”

Fading in, backstage, “The Distinguished” Caleb James O’Donnell is sitting on a locker room bench. CJ is in his ring attire, putting on the final touches for his battle tonight against Kat Jones. He has the black tape out and is wrapping his right hand as you hear a knock on the door.

O’DONNELL: “Come in…”

The door swings open and in walks Jack Vaughn. CJ looks up and rolls his eyes. O’Donnell stops taping up his fist as he stares at Jack, who walks deeper into the locker room.

O’DONNELL: “I think you are looking for catering. Down the hall and turn left, walk about one hundred feet and the door is on the right hand side. If you pass the Perry Wallace Rent-a-Kid Stand, you went too far. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a match to get ready for.”

Jack smiles and let’s out a half genuine, hearty laugh.

VAUGHN: “Ha, no, no you don’t. But wait, C.J.- HA! Because your 150-nothin’ pound ass thinks I’m fat, is that it? Must be a pretty sweet high for a guy like you to tell his boss, a former marine, somehow successful at any venture he’s put hands on, that he’s overweight. That HIS boss seems to kinda just joke around for a living? Yeah, I can see it, you get off on that shit, huh? Smug-”

O’DONNELL: “What the fuck do you mean I do NOT have a match? What, did Kat Jones leave Four Corners Wrestling because she realized she was out of her league? Or did Perry kidnap her to show his sons how to properly pound that pussy?”

VAUGHN: “Neither, actually, she had an unavoidable conflict. These things happen. We’re dealing with her separately, as we are, in fact, trying to run a show here. Regardless, you have no one to fi-”

O’DONNELL: “That is pure fucking bullshit. I joined 4CW to wrestle the best of the best and these last three shows, let’s call a spade a spade, my opponents have sucked. Fine put another win in my column then. Here I thought 4CW knew how to run a federation, yet, I’ve had NO COMPETITION!”

VAUGHN: “That’s unfortunate, but not in our control, CJ. Relax, though, it IS 4CW- reputations can’t be bought and upheld for too, too long. You WILL get your ass kicked at some point soon. Little humor, take it easy. You’re a competitor, I know that- that’s why, while I admire your vigorous, visible, though slightly concerning hostility at not being able to contribute to the show tonight, I ALSO know you’ll understand that you’re not getting a W in your column and why. If not, that’s why I’m here. This isn’t a forfeit, CJ. It’s a scratch.”

O’DONNELL: “Sounds like the marine is playing favorites. It is fucking bullshit and I WILL get that W in that column, by any means necessary. Oh, and Jackie boy, don’t worry, I am going to contribute to the show. I may not have a match tonight, but Riddle, Madison and Cashe do. So I say we get a little more UNSTABLE tonight in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.”

VAUGHN: “I wouldn’t expect anything less from my favorite crew of Morrison managed fu- quality pro wrestlers. I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then, eh? I couldn’t convince you that you’d see more victory jerking off than fucking up our show, tonight, could I? Don’t answer that- enjoy the fuckin’ scratch, little-big guy. I say that with as much respect as possible, please, understa-”

O’DONNELL: “Hey Jack, before you go take your fucking respect and shove it up your ass. I do not want or need it. Now get out of the locker room, before someone with the initials JV gets hurt.”

VAUGHN: “HA! I tell ya, I’m truly not playing favorites, but you make it real fuckin’ hard not to. Look forward to your crew bringing in some money, tonight…well, Cashe and Cyrus selling t-shirts, not whatever you are gonna do to try to make up for shitty merchandise and the sales thereof. Take it easy, CJ.”

Vaughn, with stern eyes and a slight smirk, pats CJ on the shoulder lightly as he walks out, causing CJ to rapidly shift his focus toward the rather imposing new General Manager, who can be heard breaking out into a soft whistle as he saunters out of sight.

OPENING MATCH
BRADLEY STEVENS VS. AIDAN CARLISLE

The opening guitar riff of “Commit Me to Memory” begins to play through the speakers and the venue darkens a little. A minute goes by and as the vocals for the verse enter the song, Bradley Stevens swaggers through the curtain with a cocky grin on his face, much to the dismay of the fans in attendance. Once he is satisfied, Bradley slowly makes his way down to the ring, getting into it with the fans seated at ringside.

POWERS: “Coming to the ring first, from Liverpool, England, weighing in at two hundred pounds… BRADLEY ‘SAINT’ SSTTEEVVEENNSS!!!”

Sliding up onto the apron with one knee, Bradley leans back and surveys with the crowd once more with the same cocky grin on his face. Pulling himself up to his feet, Bradley wipes his feet on the canvas and goes jump over the top rope. However, he stops himself just before he was due to leap and steps through the middle rope. He turns immediately and climbs the turnbuckle, throwing his arms up into the air, before hopping down, removing his jacket, and waiting for the match to begin.

Two missile-like pink fireballs launch from above the ring toward the entrance, igniting the stage in a wall of pink flame. Aidan appears at the top of the ramp as the heavy metal chords of Disturbed’s “Immortalized” fill the theater. She stops to survey the crowd through the dimmed lights and hot pink strobes. She smirks like a predator from ear to ear as she soaks in the mixed cheers and boos from the crowd, holding her arms out to either side, tilting her head back, letting the electric guitar get her revved up for the impending match.

“This is war time, this is our time

We won’t be denied, feed the fire that is raging inside

This is go time, this is showtime

We will fight ’til their wills are broken

This is game time, and insane time

Let the madness fly, show the strength that just can’t be defied

Find the power, to devour

Let the beast inside now be woken

POWERS: “Coming to the ring, residing in New York, New York, weighing in at one hundred forty five pounds and standing five feet, eight inches tall. She is 4CW’s Alpha Bitch and one half of the 4CW Tag Team Champions… AIDAN CCAARRLLIISSLLEE!!!”

“In this world only the strong will survive

Hear the roar and you will know you’re alive

Feel the energy build in your soul

‘Cause it’s time

As she strides down the aisle, she extends a middle finger in either direction in answer to the on-going jeers of the crowd. Her smirk is firmly fixed on her lips as she ascends the stairs and ducks between the ropes. “Oh, In the calm before the storm

Another legend will be born

Another battle will be won

We will rise

Oh, So heed the call of confrontation

Today we feed on domination

Secure a legacy that will never die

Be immortalized”

Aidan turns in a slow circle, taunting the crowd, gesturing for them to give her more before she lifts the Tag Title high over her head, slapping the faceplate with determination.

VASSA: “Aidan Carlisle has been full of fire over the past several weeks. Something brought about an attitude change and it has been serving her well.”

JOHNSON: “What happened last Adrenaline was just unnecessary.”

VASSA: “Hey, Aidan just proved to Zelda Orion and Bitch TV that what they had to say about her and her partner Bryan Williams wasn’t true!”

JOHNSON: “It was incredibly unsportsmanlike.”

The referee checks with both Stevens and Carlisle before signaling for the bell.

DING!!! DING!!!

Bradley charges eagerly out of his corner first, looking for a huge running European uppercut. Aidan waits until the last second and reverses with a tilt-a-whirl armdrag. She rebounds off of the ropes as he goes down and as he starts to sit back up he’s met with a sliding clothesline that catches him right in the face! Aidan looks quite pleased with herself as she stands again, rolling her neck from side to side and loosening up her shoulders while she circles Stevens.

Bradley gets back to his feet, keeping distance between himself and his speedy opponent as he looks for an opening. He feints with a lunge and then catches Aidan with a surprise Pelé kick! Carlisle falls backward to the mat from the impact and rolls all the way through into a crouch. As Stevens closes in she tackles him to the canvas with a spear and immediately begins throwing fists and forearms into his head and face until the official waves her off and gives Bradley the chance to get up.

Stevens flies toward Carlisle for a burning lariat but she catches his arm and reverses with an Irish whip toward the ropes. He bounces off and uses the momentum, catching her in the chest with a dropkick! Before she can get up he follows up with a leaping leg drop across the midsection. Stevens then goes for a stomp to the gut but Aidan quickly rolls out of the way and gets back to her feet.

JOHNSON: “Bradley Stevens showing some promise here as the match gets under way.”

VASSA: “But can he keep it up? It’s not how the match starts that matters, it’s how it ends.”

Bradley rushes Aidan, hoping to catch her off balance, but runs at full speed into a shuffle side kick that echoes through the arena! Sneering down at her opponent, she gives a hard stomp to his arm and kicks it in next to his body. The crowd boos and Aidan flips them a rude gesture and a grin before driving her elbow right into the center of his chest!

Grabbing the arm she had just stomped on, Aidan locks in a vicious armbar, cranking down hard. Stevens cries out in pain and the ref ducks in to monitor the submission hold. Bradley shakes his head repeatedly, telling the official that he’s not giving up. Carlisle laughs at his determination and locks in the hold even tighter! Stevens sees how close to the ropes he is and stretches his other arm out. His fingers brush the bottom rope once, and then he manages to grab on! The referee calls for the break, but Aidan ignores him and forcing the count.

“One! … Two! … Three! … Four! … Fi–“

Carlisle is still grinning as she releases the hold just short of being disqualified. Bradley holds his arm against his chest and gets to his knees while the referee pushes Aidan back to give him room. As soon as Stevens is on his feet Carlisle flies back toward him for a forearm smash but Bradley ducks beneath the strike and hits a belly-to-back suplex!

Planting her hands on the mat to either side of her head, Aidan rolls back all the way up onto her shoulders and flips to her feet with a kip up! Carlisle hits the ropes for some extra momentum and launches at Bradley for a swinging neckbreaker, but he catches her! Stevens transitions her up onto his shoulders looking for a death valley driver, but she continues all the way through and turns it back in her favor with a tilt-a-whirl DDT!!!

VASSA: “A huge counter from Aidan Carlisle! Bradley Stevens looks like he’s seeing stars right now!”

JOHNSON: “You could hear the impact of that DDT all throughout the Panther Arena here in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.”

Aidan stares at Stevens for a few moments, making sure he stays down before turning toward the corner. She grabs the ropes and leaps right up onto the top turnbuckle, turning to face the ring and leaping off for a diving knee drop that catches Bradley in the chest! The two get to their feet at the same time but Stevens makes the first move, catching Aidan in the temple with a roundhouse kick!

Dizzy from the impact, Carlisle drops to one knee, shaking her head to try to clear her vision. Bradley takes advantage, backing up several paces and running across the ring, stepping off of her upturned knee and blasting her with a shining wizard! He immediately goes for the pin as she hits the mat!

ONE

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Aidan gets the shoulder up before the official gets anywhere close to two and shoves Stevens off of her. Bradley is back on his feet first as Carlisle rolls away. He stalks after her, grabbing both of her ankles and quickly locking in a Boston crab! The referee kneels to check on Aidan but she practically shoves him away as she refuses to give in to the submission maneuver.

Carlisle pushes up onto her hands and “walks” backward out of the hold until she’s no longer bent backward beneath Stevens! Crossing her ankles behind his lower back where he’s holding her legs, her abdomen flexes as she performs an inverted sit-up that brings her face-to-face with him. Without a moment of hesitation she throws a savage elbow into the side of his face! She follows with a headbutt that makes him stagger as he struggles to support their combined weight. Finally, she plants her hands on his shoulders and “hops” up to wrap her legs around his head for a hurricanrana!!! She rolls all the way through to sit on his chest and reaches back to hook both legs for a straddling pin!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR—KICKOUT!!!

JOHNSON: “An impressive display of athleticism by Aidan as she turned that submission hold by Bradley Stevens into a near pinfall.”

VASSA: “I can’t even do one situp. I don’t know how she managed that!”

JOHNSON: “Even so, Bradley is still in the game.”

As the two stand once more they lock up in the middle of the ring. Stevens is able to press the size advantage and overpowers Carlisle, whipping her into the ropes. As she comes back he hits a lightning quick snap suplex that rattles the ring. Aidan is right back on her feet in the blink of an eye, however. Bradley grabs her wrist and sends her into the ropes again, but this time she leaps on the rebound and nails a thunderous spinning sitout sleeper slam!

Stevens is still dizzy as he gets to his feet. Aidan flies across the ring and nails him with a running elbow smash that spins him around. Leaping up she grabs his shoulders, plants her knees in his spine, and falls to the mat for a backstabber! Bradley falls forward, clutching his spine with one hand and supporting himself on the middle rope with the other arm. Carlisle bounces off of the ropes on the other side of the ring, dashing over the canvas and leaping up, hooking the top and middle ropes to swing both legs all the way around and blasts Stevens in the face with both feet!

With Bradley close to the corner, Aidan leans over and shouts, “You’re worthless!” into his face before scaling the turnbuckles. She raises both middle fingers to the booing crowd as she faces out toward them. With a jump, she falls, both legs catching the top ropes and then flips over to hit Stevens with a split-legged moonsault!

Bradley is too close to the ropes to go for a pin, so Aidan puts her boot across his throat and uses the ropes for leverage as she chokes him. The referee gives her a blistering warning about the illegal move, but she ignores him again and forces another count!

“One! … Two! … Three! … Four! … Fi–“

Aidan grins maliciously as she releases the hold and backs away, not even trying to play innocent with the ref as he chastises her.

VASSA: “Carlisle using as much as the count as possible as he continues to try to soften Stevens up.”

JOHNSON: “You mean as she uses dirty moves.”

Bradley uses the opportunity while Aidan and the referee are distracted to climb up to the top turnbuckle. As soon as he official is out of the way he leaps off and hits a missile dropkick that knocks Carlisle to the canvas! He gets to his feet and delivers a stomp to the center of her chest. Before he can get in a second, she rolls out from under the bottom rope and to the floor below.

Stevens considers his options for a few moments, pacing back and forth in the ring before he slides out as well. Bradley stalks over to Aidan, preparing to pick her up and toss her back in the ring. As soon as he gets close enough, she catches whim with a drop toe hold! Stevens falls forward, face first into the steel stairs! He clutches his face for a few moments, hands coming away bloody when he pulls them back.

JOHNSON: “Bradley Stevens’ forehead is busted open!”

Carlisle sneers as she leaves him on the floor, rolling back into the ring. With Stevens still down, the referee finally starts the count out.

“One! … Two! … Three!” Bradley shakes himself out of the daze and ignores the blood running down his face as he starts to get to his feet. Aidan paces back and forth in the ring, circling like a shark and smiling just as wickedly. Just as Stevens finally gets to his feet she sprints across the ring and does a suicide dive between the top and middle ropes! As she comes down she catches Bradley by the neck for a tornado DDT!!! “Four! … Five! … Six!” Feeling some of the effects of the high risk maneuver herself, Aidan is a little slow to get to her feet. She uses the barricade to pull herself up, leaning on it for a few seconds to catch her breath. Stevens hauls himself up using the apron and the two glare daggers at one another. Bradley makes the first move, hitting a European uppercut that pushes Carlisle back into the announcers’ table. He capitalizes quickly with a body splash that momentarily lays her out on top of it!

Before he can get another shot in she shoves him back into the side of the ring with both feet. Aidan hits the floor running and catches the doubled-over Stevens in the face with a vicious running high knee that snaps his head back and bounces him off of the apron before he crumples to the floor! Dropping to her knees beside him, she then throws a volley of punches into his face while the audience counts them off! “ONE! … TWO! … THREE! … FOUR!” For the fifth strike she switches it up and drives her elbow into his face instead! “FIVE!!!” Meanwhile, the referee is also counting! “Seven! … Eight! … Nine!”

Carlisle grabs Stevens by the hair and hauls him up, shoving him into the ring and rolling in under the bottom rope just before the ref can get to ten.

JOHNSON: “Both wrestlers are finally back in the ring, and just in the nick of time! Any longer and this match would have resulted in a count out.”

VASSA: “There is blood all over the floor here at ringside, all over our table, and all over Aidan. We’re going to need a clean up down here!”

Despite his bleeding forehead and the hits he’s just taken, Bradley gets to his feet at the same time as Aidan. He ducks an incoming clothesline and as she turns around catches her with a Muay Thai kick! Stevens stays close as Carlisle hits the mat, hooking up both of her arms from behind and then flipping over into a bridge, locking in a cattle mutilation hold!

Aidan snarls in frustration, and then as the official as he asks if she wants to tap out. Bradley keeps the hold tight and the bridge firm as he tries to force a submission. Keeping her cool, Carlisle checks her position. She lifts one leg up onto the bottom rope, and then the other. Her legs move up to the middle rope, and then the top, “climbing” up them until she uses the height to flip back over Stevens and out of the maneuver!

She lands in he perfect position for another series of mounted strikes, but Bradley rolls out of the way before she can start and gets some separation. The collide mid-ring as both charge one another. Stevens makes the catch and sends Carlisle toward the ropes with an Irish whip. Aidan flips forward onto her hands, her back and legs hit the ropes and bounce back. Her feet hit the mat again and she drills him right in the face with a handspring back elbow!

Bradley stumbles back into the corner, catching himself on the top rope. He thinks fast and leaps up onto the to turnbuckle, turning to face the ring for an aerial move. Aidan is already there and jostles the ropes, causing him to slip and land in a seated position! Stevens’ face turns a little red from the impact and he can’t help but clutch his groin for a moment.

Carlisle flips into a handstand and locks her ankles around his neck. Stevens tries to get free, but he can’t quite break the hold. With a shouted taunt up to Bradley, Aidan whips him off of the turnbuckle and into the canvas with a Frankensteiner! She rolls all the way through once more and hooks one leg for a pin!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THRE—KICKOUT!!!

JOHNSON: “Stevens got the shoulder up at the last second! The match isn’t over yet!”

VASSA: “Aidan fought her way out of another seemingly impossible hold and almost got the pin, again!”

JOHNSON: “But almost doesn’t count! Bradley is still fighting, watch!”

Bradley powers out of the pin attempt and wraps his arms around Aidan’s middle. He gets his feet under him and hits a big deadlift German suplex. He doesn’t let go as they hit the mat and stands for a second! He still doesn’t let go! As he nails the third suplex he bridges for a pin!

ONE!

.

.

TW—KICKOUT!!!

Aidan gets the shoulder up before the two is complete and Stevens slaps the mat in frustration. Carlisle races at him from across the ring. He ducks the shoulder just in time and throws her up into position for a death valley driver again! With a heave he starts to drill her into the mat, but as she falls she catches both of his wrists! His arms yank into position and Carlisle reverses into a sitout straight jacket neckbreaker!!!

The move leaves them both laid out on the mat for several long moments, but as they both show signs of movement, the official doesn’t start a count. Aidan rolls over onto her stomach and drags her arms to her sides, pressing her palms into the mat. Bradley reaches up to grab the top rope and uses it to start pulling himself up.

As Carlisle gets her hands and one knee beneath her and pushes up, Stevens digs deep for his last reserve and launches off of the ropes with surprising quickness. He leaps high into the air, looking for a massive curb stomp!

VASSA: “Bradley Stevens going for the Chelsea Smile!!!”

Just as Bradley’s foot catches the back of her shoulder Aidan powers upward with a huge surge of strength that launches Stevens high into the air! As he comes down she wraps her arms around his neck, whipping him over her body with a blazing headlock takedown! As Stevens hits the mat Carlisle transitions the takedown straight into an STF!!! She locks the hold in tight with both her legs and her arms, pulling back hard on Bradley’s back and neck!

Bradley tries to pry Aidan’s hands off of his face, but she doesn’t budge! He strains an arm toward the ropes, but he’s dead center in the ring! Stevens has no choice but to tap out!!!

DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!

Even after the referee calls for the bell, Aidan keeps the submission locked in tight. She holds on through several impatient “requests” from the official to let go before she finally releases Bradley and stands up. Carlisle yanks the Tag Team Championship out of the ref’s hands and holds it high above her head as she circles the ring slowly and taunts the crowd.

VASSA: “Aidan Carlisle has made Bradley Stevens tap out!”

JOHNSON: “But she couldn’t just take the high road, she had to continue attacking him even after the bell rang. I don’t know what has gotten into Aidan lately, but I don’t think it’s an improvement.”

VASSA: “I do! She calls herself the Alpha Bitch and she’s displaying her dominance, Steve!”

POWERS: “Here is your winner, by submission… AIDAN CCAARRLLIISSLLEE!!!”

Aidan looks down at her fallen opponent, slowly rolling her neck in a circle. A vicious, satisfied smirk is planted firmly on her lips as she shakes her head at the sight.

The cameras switch backstage right as Aidan makes it back up the ramp. Just inside the stage entrance her partner, Bryan Williams, is waiting with an ice pack in hand. She takes it gratefully and applies it to the side of her face where she had taken a few strikes in her match.

CARLISLE: “Thanks.”

WILLIAMS: “No worries, you did good out there. Now I gotta step it up, show these people how the champs really work. Think we went too far last week? I mean, I literally hit whatshername so hard they left the company.”

CARLISLE: “Too far? Nah, not at all. She deserved everything she got.”

WILLIAMS: “Alright, that’s good. I was worried for a second, we’re gonna have to send more messages like that. Just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

CARLISLE: “I’m not worried at all. I’ll be more than happy to send as many messages as we need to. I may not have broken Bradley Stevens quite as thoroughly as we did Zelda Orion, but I doubt anyone’s going to be questioning whether it was a one time thing or not anymore.”

Bryan nods his head, the two of them continue to walk through the backstage area, Tag Team Championships proudly on display.

WILLIAMS: “Alright, well first thing, I got a few things we need to go over right now. Most importantly, we need to think about expanding out. Maybe finding someone, or a couple of people who fit in with our mindset. It’s just two of us right now, eventually the numbers are going to get us if we ever do decide to attack. Know what I mean?”

CARLISLE: “Is there anyone else that does fit in with our mindset? You know me, I’m not great at playing well with others.”

Bryan chuckles, shaking his head.

WILLIAMS: “No, there is nobody like us. BUT, there are some people who would be useful to our cause. Maybe with time they can be brought in, help even things out.”

CARLISLE: “Did you have someone in mind?”

WILLIAMS: “Not right now, but that isn’t important. We’ll do some scouting, find out who suits us the best. Now, we have another issue to deal with tonight.”

Bryan sighs, he knows the next bit of words would have to be chosen carefully.

WILLIAMS: “We uh…We have to go see Wallace, get some business done.”

CARLISLE: “And what business is that? Did he say something to you?”

WILLIAMS: “I mean, yeah he mentioned a few things. And I thought up something too…”

Aidan adjusts the ice pack on the side of her face as she turns to look at her partner.

CARLISLE: “What did you think up?”

WILLIAMS: “I think that if we’re going to be successful in our campaign here, we’re going to need some heavy backing. Do you catch my drift?”

Bryan waits to see how Aidan reacts, knowing the long and storied history between her and Perry Wallace. He grimaces just thinking about her reaction when she might see Perry next.

CARLISLE: “I hear what you’re saying. I’m not sure that I like it, but I hear it. …I’ll listen to what he has to say. I don’t promise any more than that, though.”

WILLIAMS: “I can dig that, now come on… let’s get some food or something.”

CARLISLE: “Hell yes. I’m starving after that match. The food has gotten so much better since Vaughn arrived. Let’s wreck it.”

Aidan snickers as she gives Bryan an elbow and turns toward the Catering area.

With the scene cutting backstage, we find ourselves looking down a long hall, in the main locker room room area of the arena. Turning the corner, Perry Wallace comes into view and right behind him, four unknown individuals follow, dressed in street clothes with black leather vests over their shirts. Two of the men follow closely behind Wallace as the other two trail behind, carrying a long shaped box wrapped in Christmas designed paper. With confidence in his steps, Wallace makes his way through the hall without a fear in the world, surprisingly considering the events that happened two weeks earlier.

WALLACE: ”Fuck with me now, you Unstable fucks!

The words echo down the long hall as Wallace cracks a smile, feeling as if he’s untouchable. Coming to a door separated far from the others with another unknown individual standing in front of it, Wallace stops and nods. The unknown man then steps out of the way as Wallace balls his fist and knocks on the door.

Knock! Knock!

A few short moments pass before the door cracks open and Bronx Valescence’s face comes into view, looking through the opening.

WALLACE: ”There’s my boy!”

It was dark in the locker room where Bronx was stationed tonight. With a smile Bronx opened the door on up, with Unstable lurking around he wasn’t just opening his door all willy-nilly for anybody.

VALESCENCE: “What’s up pops? Just finishing up some Fallout 4 before my match…Got bored, thought about going to pull the fire alarm or something…”

Bursting into laughter, Wallace shakes his head and enters the room. Looking around at the rather large locker room, more so than the others, a smile comes to his face.

WALLACE: ”Damn, they got you set up really nice in here. Othe best for my baby boy. I figured it would be best if you had a locker room separate from the other, in style and fucking pimp. And no need to worry about those Unstable pieces of trash, they won’t be getting anywhere near you, or me, without a fight. I have security stationed outside of your locker room. I also have about four of those big mother fuckers rolling with me. Let Unstable get out of line and they’ll be dealt with accordingly.”

Wallace then turns his head and looks out into the hallway. Nodding, he then raises his hand and waves for the security to enter.

WALLACE: ”Why don’t you two go ahead and bring that package in here.”

Wallace then turns back to Bronx with a joyful smile on his face. Holding his arms out to the side, Wallace looks over at the two security members walk into the room, carrying the large wrapped gift.

WALLACE: ”I have a surprise for you, Bronx. Here, it’s a gift, an early Christmas present.”

The two men then place the package onto the floor beside Bronx.

WALLACE: ”Go ahead, open it.”

Bronx began acting like a literal child on Christmas, as they brought the package in he began bouncing up and down, the only thing that was missing was a Christmas onesie and maybe some milk and cookies.

VALESCENCE: “OhmygodOhmygodOhmyGodOhMygod.”

He fanned himself as he sat down cross legged in front of the present and then began ripping at the paper like a caveman, he giggled like a little girl as he ripped open the box, making sure there was no way you could put anything back into it. A blue hoverboard sat there in front of him, gleaming in the light.

VALESCENCE: “AHHHH HELL YEAH!”

Bronx grabbed Perry and hugged him tightly before he walked over, turning the hoverboard on and then began to roll around the room with it. Yelling and screaming like he was on a rollercoaster as he went. Both middle fingers were up in the air.

VALESCENCE: “SUCK ON THIS UNSTABLE!”

He continued to roll around in a circle on the hoverboard with his middle fingers up.

WALLACE: ”Fuck yes! I would have gotten you a helmet but then I remembered you weren’t a little bitch. I hope you enjoy. I want you to remember this bad mother fucker when you’re in the ring later tonight kicking the shit out of Jason Trash.”

Wallace then nods at the sight of Bronx happy and enjoying the gift. He then looks over to the security with a blank star as one looks down at his watch. Wallace then turns back to Bronx, amused at the sight of him having fun with the hoverboard.

WALLACE: ”Be sure to take some pretty sweet jumps with that thing. Don’t worry about breaking it, it can easily be replaced. I just want you to have some fun, but most importantly, kick the shit out of Cashe tonight and send a message to those Unstable fucks. I have to get going but I want to wish you luck in your match later tonight and I know you’ll make me proud.”

Bronx easily rode the hoverboard over to his dad and hopped off, nearly tripping when he did, he put a hand on Perry’s shoulder.

VALESCENCE: “I will do it for you tonight, dad. And I’m riding this out to the ring. Everyone going to be so jelly of my Christmas present!”

Wallace then smiles before reaching out and giving Bronx a hug. He then turns to the door as the security guards exit first. Stopping in the doorway, Wallace looks back at Bronx, eyes still locked on the hoverboard.

WALLACE; ”Merry Christmas, son.”

Wallace then exits the room as the door quickly closes behind him. Still inside the locker room, Bronx takes a seat nearby and picks the hoverboard up, checking out every inch of it with his eyes still lit and full of joy.

The camera cuts back to the arena where Steve Johnson and Vinny Vassa are still chatting about the action.

JOHNSON: “Well Vinny, It’s already been a crazy night, and I see you are in the holiday spirit with all that eggnog.”

VASSA: “Yes, Eggnog, we’ll call it that.”

JOHNSON: “Makes you wonder what else could –”

The two are cut off when, delightfully surprising the Milwaukee crowd “The Touch” by Stan Bush starts up, and soon enough, Roxi Johnson parts the curtain to a bigger reaction!

JOHNSON: “WHAT IN THE WORLD?!”

VASSA: “I must be drunk, or… I’ve been on the nice list, because I’m pretty sure that Roxi Johnson is walking down the aisle.”

Roxi jumps up and down on the stage, whipping the crowd up as she smiles brightly and waves as she continues to get the crowd hyped up. She skips down to the ring happily as she continues to wave, and wearing a Santa hat on top of her head. She climbs up the steps, and into the ring the ovation is nice, the 4CW Faithful happy to see Roxi return She politely takes the microphone and the music dies out, but the reaction is still strong as she waits, smiling and giggling.

JOHNSON: “Roxi Johnson has returned to 4CW! That’s insane!”

VASSA: “These people are too loud, it’s like they missed her or something.”

“WEL-COME BACK!!! WEL-COME BACK!!! WEL-COME BACK!!! WEL-COME BACK!!! WEL-COME BACK!!!”

That chant eventually dies out as Roxi waves and motions for them to calm down and she puts the microphone to her mouth.

JOHNSON: “Hello Milwaukee!”

A cheer for the cheap pop.

JOHNSON: “Long time no see, right?!”

Another loud cheer.

JOHNSON: “You look good. I think you’ve lost some weight too! Haha. Ah, enough with the corny jokes. I was just, well, I happened to be passing through, getting ready to enjoy the holidays like all of you, but I had a talk with one Perry Wallace, and he said that… this place doesn’t seem as cheerful without me around.”

Boos.

JOHNSON: “Now, of course I couldn’t let one of my ex bosses down, so it felt right to come here tonight, and spread a little holiday cheer!”

Another large cheer as Roxi smiles.

JOHNSON: “I couldn’t pass up the chance to come out here in front of the 4CW fans, and be in the 4CW ring just one more time, and… I gotta tell ya… I feels pretty dang good.”

Roxi leans up against the ropes and bounces off them to the middle of the ring.

JOHNSON: “I kinda miss this feeling you know?! I mean, I remember back in July…. I said goodbye, but I did say, good-bye for now, and not… good-bye forever.”

Some cheers, more of a mixed reaction in anticipation.

JOHNSON: “I always wanted to come back every now and again, and since it’s the holiday season, I knew it would be a good time to come back and visit for a little while, like a certain snowman. And of course, he did say, he would be back one day… so… I guess I’m going to follow his lead. I will be back in a 4CW again really, really soon!”

A loud cheer goes up.

JOHNSON: “But tonight’s not about me, it’s about the 4CW regulars, and them continuing to put on an awesome show! I just wanted to pop in, and say thank you, have a wonderful holiday season and I will see you all, really soon. I got some presents, some cookies, some cakes to share with some wonderful friends back there, and I’m sure they’re getting impatient with me out here, so… thank you again, have a wonderful night, and in case you need a hero… I’ll never be too far away! Have a great night everyone! I love you all!”

With that, her music plays again, she smiles, waves, and tosses her Santa hat into the crowd before exiting the ring, going all around the ringside area, slapping fans five, even giving Steve and Vinny a hug along the way.

VASSA: “I have to be drunk…”

JOHNSON: “No Vinny… that was real. It was nice to see Roxi again, and… was she hinting at a return to 4CW?”

VASSA: “I wouldn’t complain, this place could use another hot chick running around.”

JOHNSON: “Anyway…. What the heck else could happen?”

The cameras cut to the backstage area where we see Perry Wallace in his office with the lovely Kaysie Sherell. Much to his surprise, a knock rattles on his door, interrupting the two. Turning his attention to the door, Wallace then yells.

WALLACE; ”It’s open!”

The door then slowly opens, revealing Bryan Williams and Aidan Carlisle. Perry stands to his feet with a smile on his face. Bryan greets Perry with a hug, handing him a Christmas present as he does.

WALLACE: “Thank you, Bryan. I didn’t think we were exchanging gifts early.”

WILLIAMS: “Just a little something I picked up from London, I dunno if you like Scotch but it’ll fuck you up good.”

WALLACE: “I’ve been drinking Scotch all night as a matter of fact. Thank you, Son. Hold on one second.”

Wallace then looks over to Kaysie, sitting by herself excluded from the conversation.

WALLACE: “I’d like to introduce you to someone Bryan. This is Kaysie.”

Kaysie then stands up and walks over to the three, extending her hand to Bryan.

WILLIAMS: “Hello, new lady.”

Bryan extends his hand out, nudging his partner as she stands there, still wearing some of the blood from her earlier match.

CARLISLE: “You rang?”

WILLIAMS: “Look, Dad, I’ll cut to the chase because I know you’re a busy man. I have to get ready, we’re all very busy people. We both saw what happened with Riddle-”

Bryan pauses, shooting a look to his partner, who looks murderous.

WILLIAMS: “I want to do whatever I can to help…WE want to do whatever we can to help. Having security is nice, but why not have the champs at your service whenever you need it?”

Perry then looks over to Kaysie with a smile on his face.

WALLACE: “Kaysie, could you please excuse us for a moment? This shouldn’t take too long.”

Kaysie then exits the room as the door closes behind her.

WALLACE: “As you saw, I have a crew of security with me now after the shit that went down in Chicago. But you’re right. Legally, those dudes can’t lay a hand on any of the talent unless I’m in harm’s way.”

CARLISLE: “How many of your new security crew have you fucked already?”

WILLIAMS: “I think what my partner is trying to say here is, can you really trust them? Wouldn’t it be better if you had your own flesh and blood having your back? And his friend too, I suppose.”

Aidan archs a brow at her partner.

CARLISLE: “One: I’m not a rent-a-cop. Two: What’s in it for me?”

Looking back and forth at the two in amusement, Wallace chuckles for a moment before turning around and walking to his desk on the other side of the room. After taking a seat, he grabs his glass from the table and then kicks his feet up, leaning back and getting into a relaxed position.

WALLACE: “Well, well, well… One question at a time. First of all, I’m not fucking any of the hired help. Did you pay attention when you walked through the door. Those are some big, ugly fucking dudes. Sorry, but that ain’t my cup of tea. Second, I better be able to trust them at the rate I’m paying. The mafia trusts bikers for hired muscle, why can’t I? Like I said, legally they can’t lay a hand on the talent unless I’m in harm’s way, but you two can.”

CARLISLE: “I don’t care who you trust, frankly. But you could explain these things I hear about you handing out my address?”

WILLIAMS: “I feel like there’s a lot of anger here in the room, can we focus on the task at hand?”

WALLACE: “I don’t know what you’re talking about with addresses and if I did, I’m going to use my other son’s line and say that I was hacked.”

Bryan leans over towards his partner, whispering, “It’s true,” as he nods. Aidan doesn’t looked convinced, however.

CARLISLE: “You’re a bad liar, Perry.”

With a shocked expression on his face, Wallace leans up from the chair and takes a drink before placing the glass back onto the desk.

WALLACE: “That’s not true, I’m a damn good liar but I’m telling you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

WILLIAMS: “Guys, this is not the time for this. This is the season for giving, get some holiday spirit into your souls. Look, we’re here to offer our services, despite what my partner is saying. We’ll be glad to help take out any of those Unstable fucks, especially Riddle.”

CARLISLE: “Well in that case I’ll just head back to my locker room and get changed for the night, since you seem to know what I’m saying.”

As Aidan heads towards the door, Bryan stares a hole in his father, motioning his head towards his exiting partner.

WALLACE: “Wait!”

Standing up from his desk, Perry walks around to the other side. He grabs a clean glass from across the desk and then looks back to Aidan.

WALLACE: “Have a drink, Aidan. Let’s calm those nerves. I appreciate the concern, I truly do. But I’m telling you right here and now, I do not know what you’re talking about with this address talk. You can’t believe Cyrus. After what he did, who would believe that traitorous piece of shit?”

Aidan picks up the bottle of scotch and the clean glass, helping herself and tossing back the drink before answering.

CARLISLE: “My nerves are just fine, Wallace, or haven’t you been paying attention for the last two shows? I’m feeling the best I’ve felt in a long, long time. But when people try to treat me like I’m stupid… See, I start to get a little twitchy and want to do things like I did to Zelda Orion.”

WALLACE: “Well between us, thanks. That’s one less check I have to cut and room for more talent.”

CARLISLE: “You want bitches broken, Wallace, you’ve got the team for the job, but I don’t work for free and you will level with me.”

She considers the empty glass in her hand, and just what she might do with it now.

WALLACE: “I’m telling you, for the last time, I do not know what you’re talking about with this whole address thing. Cyrus said something about an address on Twitter. I mean come on, it was on Twitter. I can’t believe what he says in the same room with me, so how are you going to believe what he says behind a screen typing one hundred forty characters with his thumbs?”

Aidan slowly shakes her head as she continues to stare him down, rolling the glass back and forth between her fingers.

CARLISLE: “If that’s your story.”

Wallace takes a step back and sits on top of the desk before finishing off his glass and taking a deep breath.

WALLACE: “That’s my story, that’s what happened, or well what didn’t happen. Fuck what that crumpet eating piece of shit says. He’s obviously lying and trying to cause problems within the company now that he’s aligned himself with Unstable.”

WILLIAMS: “So that’s why we’re here. Well, I won’t speak for my partner anymore. Aidan, if my Father wants our help will you help him?”

CARLISLE: “What am I being offered in return?”

WILLIAMS: “Yeah, what are we being offered here? Are we being offered anything?”

WALLACE: “If it’s money you want, that isn’t a problem. I don’t know if you two have noticed but I have put a twenty-five thousand dollar bounty on each Unstable member’s head. I have protection for myself as you’ve noticed. Plus, they can be in more place than one so just focus on them. I’ll be fine. What do you want in return?”

CARLISLE: “Now that’s the question you should have asked from the beginning. For now, the money will be fine. When it’s time for you to find out what else I want, I’ll tell you.”

WALLACE: “Okay, I will be waiting. In the meantime, I have something I need to talk to you two about, something not related to any of this Unstable shit.”

WILLIAMS: “Sure, anything.”

Perry takes a moment as the room fills with silence. His eyes then look over both Aidan and Bryan, locking in on two shiny pieces of metal they have brought into the office with them. Standing up from the desk, Perry moves in closer, looking at the Tag Team Championship on Bryan’s shoulder before cutting his eye to the one around Aidan’s waist.

WALLACE: “Well we have a little problem. Winter Wasteland is just around the corner, in a month in fact. Things were shaping up to be you two defending the championships against Bitch TV.”

Perry then looks up, locking eyes with Aidan.

WALLACE: “Then someone, I’m not going to name names, decided to take out the competition. So now I’m left with no challengers to step into the ring with you two at Winter Wasteland.”

CARLISLE: “Awww, did poor wittle Wallace run out of lambs for us to slaughter?”

WALLACE: “Ha… Ha… Ha… Someone has jokes. Well all jokes aside, we need to fix this. We can’t have a super-card without the Tag Team Championships on the card. So… what are you going to do about this?”

WILLIAMS: “Did you have anyone in mind for us? Or is this just a general question you’re asking? I’m sure we could spitball some ideas around…”

WALLACE: “Well we honestly don’t have much time. We have one more Adrenaline after tonight before we head into Winter Wasteland. So, I thought maybe, just maybe, there could be some sort of open challenge issued to the roster. I have to address the everyone later tonight when I reveal the newly redesigned Pride Championship. So if you want, I could issue the challenge, see if anyone from the back is willing to step up, maybe form a new alliance with someone and challenge you two at Winter Wasteland.”

WILLIAMS: “I’m down, Aidan?”

CARLISLE: “Find us some victims.”

WALLACE: “Just do me a damn favor and don’t end their career?”

A smirk slowly draws across Aidan’s face before she gives a little shrug.

CARLISLE: “No promises.”

UNDERCARD
RORIE STEELE VS. BRYAN WILLIAMS

The lights dim, as “Sex Metal Barbie” by In This Moment starts to play. As the music starts to pick up, lights flash with the stammering sounds. A female figure comes out, hands in the air. Lights stream up behind her, her front still dark. As the first verse is sang, she turns her back to the crowd, arms still up. She spins around through the lyrics in a seductive dance, her silhouette showing off every asset.

VASSA: “I’m not going to lie, Stevie, I am moderately aroused. About two to three fifths, I’d say. Three. Three-fifths aroused, this moment.”

JOHNSON: “Normally, I’d say something to redirect you, but goodness, she is a fine looking, sensually moving woman.”

VASSA: “Folks, when Stevie says, “goodness and sensually,” in the same sentence, it means I’ve got a tiny, full mast Stevie-Boner happening not one foot away from me and my more appropriate semi. Rorite Fucking Steele, ladies and gentlemen.”

JOHNSON: “That’s enough of that talk. Rorie is an outstanding competitor in the ring. She may dazzle and distract with her appearance, but she will hurt and maim with her high flying, outright brawling style. That Frankensteele is lightning fast and high impact.”

VASSA: “That’s right, Stevie, a spear with all one hundred twenty five pounds of her smoking hot body behind it, followed by a shooting star press in NEARLY one fluid motion. She can hit it at any time and more than likely end the match. Or, again, she might just make male opponents so uncomfortable with their publically recorded bodily reaction to her entrance that they just, simply, award her the win and wait for her backstage. Word is, fifty-fifty, the chances of her banging her male opponents following the match. She fucked Cyrus Riddle not five minutes after entering the building two weeks ago!”

“You know I heard I don’t belong in this game

Still you hold your hands in the air screaming my name

Let’s go!”

JOHNSON: “OH, JUST COME ON NOW, SHE DID NOT!”

VASSA: “Give or take twenty five minutes, Stevie, you fuckin’ sixty year old virgin. You saw it. I saw it. They definitely smashed again before tonight, at LEAST once. He may be out of style right now, joining the Unstable two weeks ago by hitting Wallace over the head with a steel chair, but the man has banged some bitches. Like, side bitches for his side bitches when he’s on his rotation- only time he didn’t fuck two bitches a day was when he was with Tate, over in AC and now in KSC, up in Canada.”

The lights flash forward, showing Rorie in all of her glory. She smirks at the crowd, walking down to the ring. She teases a few fans of her choosing as she goes. She walks to the steps, climbing up. She slowly bends her body forward to get into the ring. When finally inside, she goes to each post, getting up on the turnbuckle to blow kisses to the crowd.

JOHNSON: “One, Vinnie, can we talk about wrestling? Please. Two, IF NOT, can we talk about 4CW?”

“Ever notice that you come across somebody once in awhile that you shouldn’t have fucked with?”

“That’s me.”

“Days of Revenge” immediately begins to play, the heavy guitar riff and drums backing the intense sound ripping out towards the audience. The main riff starts, playing over and over as the lights turn down. Strobes going along to the beat of the song.

JOHNSON: “Here comes one half of the very much aligned, very much cooperative, very much formidable, very much-“

VASSA: “Maligned. Is that- is that a word that fits? I was sure, at one point.”

JOHNSON: “It’s a very strong word, Vinnie, but sure, yes. Here comes one half of the very much maligned 4CW Tag Team Champions, Bryan Williams!”

VASSA: “I’ll tell you what, Stevie, that mothasucka’ is looking MEAN and fuckin’ STRONG these days. What he gave up in jokes, he figured out how to replace in being nasty. I wouldn’t wanna be Rorie Steele tonight. I’d fuck her. I wouldn’t wanna be her, though- ever, actually, not just tonight.”

JOHNSON: “Looks like she’s enjoying her life to me, Vinnie.”

VASSA: “Yeah, whatever works for her- I just don’t bang dudes. She’s cool. So are the gays.”

“These are the days of revenge, so sweet.

Can you feel it? Can you feel it?

There’s a fear in the air that I have prayed for.

For my whole life.”

Bryan walks out from the back, head held down low and one of the two 4CW Tag Team Championship Belts slung over his shoulder. The song continues to play, as Bryan stands on the top of the ramp. With his head down, Bryan holds up his title for all to see. He holds it up momentarily, eventually beginning to walk down to the ring as the song continues.

POWERS: “Coming to the ring from San Antonio, Texas, weighing in at two hundred ten pounds and standing six feet, two inches tall! He is one half of the 4CW TAG TEAM Champions, “Leviathan”, BRYAN WWIILLLLIIAAMMSS!!!”

Bryan makes his way to the ring, walking at a brisk pace. He doesn’t waste much time getting into the ring, walking up the steel steps and climbing in through the top and middle rope. Bryan turns to the nearest turnbuckle, climbing up onto the middle rope, once again holding the 4CW Tag Team Championship Belt out for all to see.

JOHNSON: “Holding up that title for all to see, you can tell he’s placed a new meaning on that title, a new meaning on his career in 4CW.”

VASSA: “Well, I think it’s a bright fuckin’ move- what’s a guy like Bryan Williams gettin’ paid by Perry?”

JOHNSON: “A great deal.”

VASSA: ”Leviathan is about to live up to his name, Stevie, he’s gonna earn that big ass check tonight. And for a while. That is, if he can get past tonight with Rorie Fucking Steele. We have no idea what to expect, Stevie, she might be a frequent dick grabber. That will put a damper on any new, badass attitude. Especially if she does it lovin-“

JOHNSON: “AND that’s why we’re on HBO, folks. Late…on H. B. O.”

DING!!! DING!!!

JOHNSON: “And thank god, we’re under way here with Bryan Williams taking on Rorie Bleeping Steele at the University of Wisconsin: Milwaukee Campus”

Leviathan’s brow is angled toward meaning business, as he marches out of his corner with swift, steely resolve. Rorie, on the other hand, takes a different approach, and draws groans of pleasure from the male audience and the focus of eyes from the ENTIRE audience. This is accomplished after dipping low and bringing it up slow, for no reason, and then bending over at the waste, for absolutely no reason, except for perhaps to ensure the clearly, very tight laces on her wrestling footwear were, in fact, tight enough. Bryan Williams, a man happy in his romance with Psyche Devine AND a man that just turned over a new, more selfish, and MUCH more destructive sounding leaf in 4CW- does not find her antics amusing or attractive. In fact, he finds them relatively repulsive. He displays his emotion by delivering an abbreviated version of his superkick to her, now rising, booty shorts’ed ass of divine proportion, sending the brand new sex symbol’s sultry eyes straight into the top turnbuckle.

VASSA: “That was a fucking DICK MOVE, Williams! I take it back, Stevie, I don’t like this new Bryan Williams. God, we had a PERFECT shot of her tits- one was about to fall ou-“

JOHNSON: “Right now, Vinnie, she is a goddamned professional wrestler in 4CW, so let’s call her match like it, eh? Maybe treat her like a porn star, whether she likes it or not, when she’s NOT putting her health and life on the line for these fans.”

VASSA: “You fuckin’ her too? Damn, Stevie, you HAVE GOT to tell me things, I get MOMENTS when I think you’re cool-“

JOHNSON: ”Bryan Williams’ new attitude is on full display tonight, folks. He follows up that warm up superkick to the backside of Ms. Steele now with a STRONG front elbow to the back of her neck. The fan here, especially male ones, are NOT too happy with Leviathan, folks!”

Rorie grips at the back of her neck, her eyes still struggling to adjust to proper level of awareness because of the turnbuckle collision, and is made subject to-

ONE!

TWO!!

THREE!!!

FOUR!!!!

FIVE!!!!!

SIX!!!!!!

SEVEN!!!!!!!!

Seven exclamation points on that last alphanumeric number, because Rorie just took seven STIFF elbows to the back of her neck. The onslaught started with her on her feet, already reeling, and has ceased with her gasping for air and relief, half of her body strewn as haplessly as her perfect form can be, beneath the 4CW ring ropes. Leviathan does not relent, as he begins putting the boots to Miss Steele without mercy and without regard for his 100 lb weight advantage over his partner, Aidan Carlisle’s newest competition for 4CW star most masturbated to by 13-18 year old boys in their spare time. Leviathan’s face of affable, relatively relaxed nature- gone. Replaced by one of dark, though scintillating rage. After well over the tenth stomp to Rorie’s upper back, Williams toes her out of the ring, sending her rocked senseless body down to the apron below. Williams follows, but not before he takes two simple moments to look at the crowd, booing incessantly at him for his first time involved a 4CW promotion, and throws a look- one that insists that “if ya don’t know, now ya know.”

VASSA: “Alright, I like him again. He is gonna kick Steele’s ass tonight and he’s gonna fire away at the rest of the roster very shortly. Hell, the way she talks, Rorie probably LOVES to get superkicked in the ass before physical exertion. She’s a wild, wild bitch, Stevie.”

JOHNSON: “WHAT DID I SAY TO YOU, VINNY?!”

VASSA: “First of all, POPS, it’s not ME, she calls HERSELF a slut! Let me list off her self given or hard earned nicknames for you: Vixen of Vulgarity, ok? Queen of Desire, The Queen of Cock, alright, Stevie, she’s been named THE QUEEN OF COCK. What else? Epitome of Lust, Sweetest Ass in the Game,Harlot- folks straight up, Stevie, straight up just call her a Harlot to her face, and she lists it with internet sites as a legit name she’ll answer to. Last, but not least, she’s backed by hundred of wrestlers nation wide, NOT named Jett Wilder, when she refers to herself as the, “Best Blowjob in the Business. Back the fuck off, old man, I’m just doing my job here.”

JOHNSON: “Folks, the Queen of Cock just- I can’t, Vinnie, I just-“

VASSA: “Bullshit, Stevie, you were a man once. Say it.”

JOHNSON: “The Queen of Cock just directed her fist RIGHT into one, Vinnie, as for the second week in a row, these relatively smaller framed women have had to resort to crotch punching to even the odds. These matches just don’t seem fair, sometimes, Vinnie, and that’s NOT to take ANYTHING away from the individual talent she holds. Like Kat Jones with Jair Hopkins last week, 100 pounds, especially LEAN pounds, it’s just a LOT for ANYONE to overcome.”

VASSA: “League of Women Voters: he’s just making an observation. 4CW would NEVER take away our women’s right to get manhandled by 350 lb men if they so choose. Rorie Fucking Steele could never live without that kind of dominance in her life and we can’t have that kind of blood on our hands. Speaking of blood on her hands, she just punched Leviathan STRAIGHT in the nose!”

Leviathan grabs at his nose and reels backward, shocked by the sudden, unorthodox 1-2 combination. Several loud curses and repeated spot checks for bleeding tabulate William’s expense of time, the duration of which enables Rorie Fucking Steele to hop up on the ring apron, but stop, grasping at the back of her neck, her disposition inebriated by a cocktail familiar to professional wrestlers across time who had just seen their first few moments in their new, big time home spent unexpectedly: exasperation and pain. On the rocks. Because this metaphor is insane. Rorie takes a deep breath and shimmies her extremities before she stops, plants, dashes forward and connects HUGE with a flying Tornado DDT down to the ringside floor!

JOHNSON: “MY! GOODNESS!!”

VASSA: “You know what that means, folks. Gettin’ the fuck over…here. Goodness, yes, Johnson, FUCKING GOODNESS! WILLIAMS JUST HAD HIS HEAD SPIKED INTO THE BARELY COVERED CEMENT FLOOR! IF HIS NOSE WAS NOT BLEEDING BEFORE, HIS BRAIN MIGHT NOW BE, INTERNALLY!”

JOHNSON: “That implies a concussion, folks! I’m not sure that move is legal here, Vinny, that was blatantly- oh, Chris Salieri, nevermind ladies and gentlemen.”

4CW’s resident crooked official stares errantly out onto the action inside the ring, not even really counting, no doubt just ogling the “Sweetest Ass in the Game” and then taking a quick glance over at Rorie Steele, to add a little flavor. Useless, Salieri found Williams at his feet, rolled into the ring by Steele. Yawning, he backs up five steps or so. Rorie, however, is a bit more enthused. Leviathan cups his head with his hands, his pain level relayed by frequent, discomforting leg movements. Rorie stands perched on the top rope, intense eyes replace her typical seductive ones. Without another moment, Steele leaps and CONNECTS with a somersault senton splash! She snaps back to her feet, lips pursed tightly, nostrils flaring a tad, intensity emanating from her toned legs as they dance up the turnbuckles. This time, a moment is taken to merely glance at the crowd with a devilish smirk. She attempts another Somersault Senton Splash!

JOHNSON: “RORIE’S BACK, CRASHING TOWARD THE MAT, JUST CHANGED ITS COURSE IN MID AIR! Williams NAILED her with an ANGRY double kick, aimed toward the lights, connecting with Steele’s back! “

VASSA: “I would say she’ll need a chiropractor, but we all kinda know how she’s gonna straighten her spine out. Lookin’ at you, Johnson. You gross motherfucker.”

Rorie writhes in pain on the mat, her hands failing in attempts to soothe each portion of her back, that as of moments ago, has been beaten on pretty mercilessly, if not also circumstantially. Williams sits up, breathing heavily through his mouth, as he pops himself square in the face, a little wake up call to the adrenaline receptors. A quick wince crosses his face, and he unapologetically checks for blood from his nose once more with his right hand, while his left holds his recently Senton’d abdominal region. If there is blood, there isn’t much- Williams almost looks disappointed, as if he hoped the quick pop would have opened up the floodgates.

VASSA: “I do that same shit ALL THE TIME, Steve. Who needs coffee or cocaine- just smack yourself in the face and draw blood. Good to go for another four to six hours.”

JOHNSON: “Williams, just violently and strangely smacked himself in the nose, as if drawing blood was his intention. Leviathan, this monster, this…this fan favorite two weeks ago, this guy with almost Superman-like virtue- it’s, things- he’s changed. Leviathan is here. Bryan Williams’ may have turned over the wheel and the GPS!”

VASSA: “Lucky Aidan Carlisle, all of a sudden, eh? Williams has got Rorie by the hair now.”

A snarl emblazoned upon his lips, his eyes narrowed, softly jabbed by the twitching of his left cheek. Williams lifts Rorie to standing position, wraps his arms around her midsection, squeezes in and then tosses her backward, attempting to land an overhead belly to belly. Rorie keeps the back and forth, shot for shot nature of this match continuing, landing clean on her feet. Williams did not sleep on the result of her fall, and scrambled toward the upright Steele, who falls to a knee from reverberating pain in her back, inadvertently ducking a ferocious attempt at Bryan Williams’ SUPERKICK! Leviathan’s leg sails fast, but barely over Rorie’s head, hooking around back to the mat, his momentum taking him along for the a quick ride. With grit and determination, Rorie desperately leaped for the ropes, catching the middle set, sending her screaming backward toward Williams’ who had just found his footing in her position before being DROPPED with a Springboard DDT!

JOHNSON: “Rorie WALLOPS Williams with another variation of Flying DDT!”

VASSA: “I can’t believe how she MISTAKENLY missed that savage superkick attempt by Williams, then had the presence of mind to fire out a SPRINGBOARD DDT in retaliation! Seems unbelievable, but you JUST SAW IT, folks!”

JOHNSON: “Rorie is going for the FIRST cover attempt of the evening!”

Salieri drops down for the count, almost in the amount of time he should have made it to position…

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR–

Williams’ shoulder fires into the air. Rorie glares at Salieri for a few moments and questions his motives, taking so long to make the count. Salieri retorts that he hadn’t REALLY been counting all night! Having risen to her feet, Rorie wears a look of disgust as she shakes her head and runs her hands through her hair in a moment of frustration. She walks toward the corner of her choosing, and before she mounted the top rope once again, she screamed, very unsexily, red faced, spit flying onto the turnbuckles before her face, “WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK ARE THE SOPRANOS EVEN DOING HERE??!?!,” referring to Salieri’s strong resemblance to Christopher, and perhaps Jack Vaughn’s Tony Soprano-esque nature.

“FUCKING QUIT- TONIGHT, YOU SWEATY, UGLY FUCK!!!!!!” All of this confirms that, indeed, Rorie could have a bit of a temper in the ring, as well. Finally, she wipes her forehead and blows a kiss to the unsure 4CW faithful (Men are still enraptured. Women are now unimpressed, because: it wasn’t gonna take much for them to hate her) before regaining her focus on winning her very first match in 4CW against the MUCH discussed Bryan Williams, who has appeared impressive- his intensity and tenacity of beatings stronger than usual. Steele just won’t seem to let him fucking prove his point definitively. While Rorie worked her issues out on the way to her perch, Leviathan worked his way to his feet. Rorie’s head is down, but slowly rising up to face her opponent, still believed by the old Harlot to be laid out on his back, prone to the second half of Frankensteele- a Shooting Star Press.

But, Leviathan- he wasn’t there.

He was angled upward and outward, with his full weight resting on his left leg, his right leg flying toward the ceiling tiles and Rorie’s woefully exposed chin. Without chance to brace herself for impact or even accept it, it was forced upon her- right beneath the jaw, hitting her so hard with a fucking SUPERKICK that it made her teeth click- heard from at least 3 rows into the crowd.

Leviathan’s superkick had so much velocity behind it, and she was so unprepared and unexpecting, that William’s knocked fucking Rorie Fucking Steele fucking the fuck out. Her body slunk forward and toward the mat below.

For good measure, Williams threw a PULVERIZING, CRUSHING knee into Steele’s already unconscious face.

The crowd loses it in their sea of boos.

“FUCK YOU-BRY-AN! FUCK-YOU-BRY-AN! FUCK-YOU-BRY-AN!”

JOHNSON: “That was dirty and disgraceful, Vinny. Leviathan, the monster, has arrived in 4CW.”

VASSA: “Rorie hung in there and honestly, I thought she bested Williams for most of the match, proving she is hot, down to fuck, A LOT, AND is a damn, damn formidible opponent! Bryan Williams, tonight, wins this match in half the time.”

JOHNSON: “Steele is going to have a BRIGHT future in 4CW- just, not any time in the next few days. Williams worked her back over methodically- then, just two VICIOUS shots to the face, throat, and the middle of her forrehead- with that knee- WOO! Call the DOCTOR!”

VASSA: “And believe it, folks. Aidan Carlisle and Bryan Williams, our 4CW dream tag team that just didn’t seem to care for one another recently- they’re back. And they’re out for fucking blood.”

Leviathan shrugs his shoulders toward the audience, showing his first sign of remote relaxation all night. Deservedly so- as if you could knock someone out twice at the same time, he would have just done that.

Salieri goes in for the count, a big smile on his face.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

POWERS: “The winner of this match, BRYAN WWIILLLLIIAAMMSS!!!”

DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!

“Days of Revenge” blasts over the PA system, as Bryan Williams proudly holds a 4CW Tag Title Belt over his head, his eyes peering out over the crowd with a new level of self-belief in his eyes compounded by the faintest of smiles on his lips, suggesting almost COMPLETE apathy regarding the boos he’d been hearing all night, as he was now.

4CW Interviewer, Gabriel Hartman is seen backstage walking with a camera man. The two are carrying on a conversation as they come around a corner into a small lobby. There they find XTV Champion, Jason Cashe who is standing up against a bare wall, slowly banging his head against the wall. Hartman approaches waving in the camera man to get ready and as the camera switches to that camera, Hartman calls out to announce himself to Cashe.

HARTMAN: “Jason? Hey man…are you alright?”

The head banging stops but Cashe doesn’t turn away from the wall, he instead just takes a deep inhale. His Championship on the floor at his feet.

HARTMAN: “Jason, are you feeling the pressure with the upcoming Title match? You seem a little..”

Pushing off the wall, Jason Cashe spins out towards Hartman. His eyes wide, a growl rumbling from his throat as his teeth show some like a wild animal ready to hunt. Hartman drops his mic as his hands go up to block any potential assault but it never comes.

CASHE: “A little what? Pick up your talk stick, ain’t nobody gonna hit you. Scared?”

Still with caution, Cashe kneels down and picks up his microphone. He returns standing and hesitates but tries to rephrase what he was trying to say.

HARTMAN: “You just seem to be nervous? I’ve seen you get angry when the threat of losing is in your head. Is this that? Do you see an outcome where you don’t walk out as XTV Champion?”

Shaking as he moves the mic from his mouth over to Cashe for a response. Cashe tugs at his beard, Sniffs through his nose with a hard inhale before snatching the mic from Hartman’s possession. The interviewer takes a few steps back as Cashe turns to the camera filming him backstage.

CASHE: “It’s too late. Bronx, it’s too late to turn off the jokes, the pestering annoyance that you’ve given yourself the label of…It’s too late to turn it off now. You think finally revealing why you came here, why you left Galveston gives you closure before opening a new door on a new path? Do you know what I think about Galveston Bronx? I don’t. I don’t think about Galveston anymore because Galveston is DEAD!”

Holding an index finger up, he waves it at the camera as his eyebrows rise up onto his forehead.

CASHE: “Callum isn’t a ping on my radar and do you know why? Because I have no care for the man, the actor, or the Champion he was. But you know something Bronx? Callum and I might actually have something in common! Believe that? Crazy right? Our common is that YOU will never be the one with your hand raised. You will always watch guys like me, guys like Callum squeak by because while you might have the ability to keep up with us, you like all the others who have fallen, you begin to be left behind in the foot race, it’s why you are so quick to take to Twitter and harass people…”

“It’s no shot to you, you have the tools but it’s a matter of using them. You want to beat me but just SAYING I shouldn’t be on your level makes you look like a silly bastard! WHO in 4CW has done more than I? I am the Final Boss LEVEL, you are just at Level One…Like Galveston, you will sink below the surface and begin to drown tonight. Because growing from losses, from experiences has inside that ring? I’ve got the scars, I’ve got the History and I’ve got the fucking present. This ISN’T Galveston, this is 4CW and we’re still thriving…There is NO comparison in that!”

Flipping the mic back to Gabriel Hartman, he fumbles it up twice before catching hold of it. Cashe turns to leave but Hartman stutters to call him back.

HARTMAN: “Ca-Cashe! Wait!”

Dropping his head, not wanting to answer anymore questions. Wanting to be the guy who doesn’t need the final say like his opponents but seemingly is being caught in that very fabric. Turning back to Hartman, Cashe lifts his head as he bites down on his bottom lip.

CASHE: “What?”

HARTMAN: “What about Raab? Are you looking past Raab as it would seem Bronx is doing? He feels both of you are beneath him and it seems you feel the same about him but what…what about Raab?”

Moving closer to Hartman, Jason Cashe doesn’t take the mic but grabs the arm of Hartman’s that is holding the microphone. He pulls that close so his voice can be heard.

CASHE: “I don’t think anyone is below me..I think people just fail to use all that intelligence properly when they step inside the ring. Raab is no different, he just lacks it inside and outside of a match. Supposedly this isn’t the same Raab? So in APW when you promoted being in WEW, when your old twitter account promoted both places, that was two different people? Are YOU that stupid or do you think everyone else is? Listen Raab, Stefan, Marcus, Jarvis, whatever you want to call yourself and or your multiple personalities.”

“Only one of you can host that body and tonight I put the fear of GOD into your heart. I rip the shred of what either of these men want to see happen here tonight. This is a new era with XTV and I’m not going to be the name that debuts it, I will be the man, the CHAMPION that sets the standard for it. Like I did with the 4CW Title that STILL hasn’t seen a Champion that held it, defended it, represented it like I did and I WILL do the very same for X…T….V….”

Ripping the mic from Gabriel Hartman’s grasp, Jason Cashe launches it down the hallway so that Hartman can’t ask anymore questions. Cashe grins a small little smile and turns from the camera, leaving the scene.

UNDERCARD
JOHNNY MENTAL VS. CHRIS MADISON

POWERS: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall!”

“And the lights go out…”

From stagelight to spotlight, lights in the room drop. The only light is the occasional camera flash, and the four large screens which show a video of a cloud darkened, thundery sky. “And the lights go out…”

The clouds part, shafts of sunlight pierce the roiling sky. All at once, the Blank Theory’s “Middle Of Nowhere” blares in full chorus, the picture on the screens flash to a montage of Johnny Mental’s high risk moves and the lights rise, on but still subdued. Stood directly beneath the screens, hooded and arms outstretched, stands “The MorningStar” Johnny Mental. He whips around and crouches, trench coat swirling around him, baring the skull emblazoned on his snood as he surveys the crowd left and right.

POWERS: “Introducing to the ring from Cardiff, Wales, weighing in at two hundred fifteen pounds and standing six feet, one inch tall! He is “The Morningstar”, JOHNNY MMEENNTTAALL!!!”

The crowd cheers, reaching over the barricade with outstretched hands. Mental straightens and takes off down the aisle and full pelt, arms outstretched as far as he can to slap hands as he runs to the ring. Without checking his speed he slides into the ring on his stomach, coming to he knees in the center of the ring. He whips his head back to flip his hood off, arms outstretched in supplication, soaking in the cheers of the crowd.

Agile as a cat he hops to his feet, removing his trench coat and draping it over the ropes for a stagehand to collect. He rips off his snood and, without use of his hands, jumps onto the second rope, balancing against the top rope, and throws the snood into the crowd for some fan to catch. He grins, and raises an arm in salute to his Children of the Night, then hops back to the mat, twitching his head and shoulders to limber up, ready for the match ahead.

POWERS: “And the opponent!”

The venue’s lights cut out, causing the entire building to go dark. Static feedback screeches over the P.A. system, forcing the fans in the audience to cover their ears. The video screen near the entrance way lights up with a white snowy picture, barely illuminating the entrance ramp. A black handprint slowly fades into the picture with a red anarchy symbol carved into the palm of the handprint before the screen cuts to black with white lettering that spells out “Unstable”. The crowd jumps to their feet, a 50/50 split between cheers and boos, as the static feedback is replaced by the opening chorus to Bullet For My Valentine’s single You Want a Battle? (Here’s A War).

“We will not take this anymore

These words will never be ignored

You want a battle

HERE’S A WAR!!”

A sole spotlight focuses on the curtain for the entranceway as Chris Madison steps out. His head is tucked down and covered by a black towel, focusing on the ground beneath him. The mixed crowd erupts in anticipation as Madison stands as still as a statue. He finally brings his fists up towards his face and punches himself on the jaw with both hands before ripping the towel from his head and spiking it down to the ground.

POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Long Island, New York, weighing in at two hundred twenty pounds and standing six feet tall, “Mayhem” CHRIS MMAADDIISSOONN!!!”

Madison charges to the ring and slides in under the bottom rope before hoping up to his feet. He walks towards the nearest ropes corner and climbs up to the second rope, surveying the live crowd before holding his arms out horizontally.

JOHNSON: “Both competitors are here in the ring and it looks like we’re ready to get this match underway!”

VASSA: “Johnny Mental is coming off a tough loss two weeks ago after nearly walking out the winner in a triple threat extreme rules match with Cyrus Riddle and Jason Cashe.”

JOHNSON: “That was one hell of a match and just when you thought he was going to seal the deal and end the match, Cashe was right there to break up the pin.”

VASSA: “Who knew that later that night Cyrus was going to align with Unstable. Those two could have teamed up on Mental from the start and ended the match a lot sooner but decided to sell it more, get that shock value later in the night.”

JOHNSON: “Johnny will have another go at Unstable as he now gets to go head to head with Chris Madison, one of, if not the most dominating member of the group.”

VASSA: “Madison is on quite a streak and with a win here tonight he can move forward to being nine and zero in the win-loss category.”

JOHNSON: “We’ve seen a few wrestlers come through the doors and get on hot streaks, but this one has been possibly the most exciting one to watch.”

VASSA: “I’ll have to disagree with you there, Steve. The Red Pioneer and even Felicity Banks had impressive streaks starting out so it’s really hard to just pick one as being the most exciting. They have all been just as exciting as the next.”

JOHNSON: “I suppose you’re right, Vinny.”

VASSA: “I know I’m right so let’s get on to this matchup!”

Standing in the center of the ring, the official gets the nod from both corners. He then throws his hand into the air and signals for the bell, officially starting the match.

DING!!! DING!!!

Bouncing out of his corner in excitement, Mental makes his way to the center of the ring. With his eyes locked on Mental from the other side, Madison slowly walks out of his corner, calm and focused. After meeting in the center of the ring, the two stare at each other for a brief moment. Growing louder and louder, the crowd becomes electric as they wait in anticipation for someone to throw the first strike. Madison breaks the silence and takes a swing for Mental’s head as the crowd erupts.

VASSA: “Here we go!”

JOHNSON: “He missed!”

Ducking underneath Madison’s fist closing in on his face, Mental avoids a devastating shot. He then counters with an elbow to Madison’s mid-section, forcing him to lunge over after the blow. Mental then wraps his arm around Madison’s head and quickly lifts him up, flipping him over and dropping him to the mat with a snap suplex. As Mental stands back to his feet, Madison raises up as well as if nothing happened. Mental then throws a right hand at Madison’s head.

VASSA: “Madison blocks the punch!”

Throwing his arm up, Madison blocks the punch and then counters with a right of his own.

JOHNSON: “Oh no, Johnny has a block of his own!”

Mental blocks Madison’s punch as it closes in on him. After swatting away Madison’s fist, Mental then kicks him in the stomach, forcing Madison to lunge over again as the air is knocked from his lungs. Stepping behind Madison, Mental then sets him up and then lifts him into the air, throwing him across the ring with a pump handle slam. Rolling across the ring, Madison comes to a stop at the edge and once on his back, Mental takes off from stand still and charges towards him. Closing in, Mental baseball slides and plants his foot into the side of Madison’s head, rolling him in the opposite direction and sending him out of the ring, crashing to the floor. As Madison’s body hits the floor, the official begins the ten count.

“One! … Two!” Slowly climbing back to his feet, Madison uses the ring apron to pull himself up. “Three! … Four!” Inside of the ring, Mental then takes off to the ropes on the other side and after coming back on the rebound, he leaps into the air and stands on the top rope. “Five! … Six!”

Once Madison stands, Mental jumps off the top rope and comes crashing down on Madison with a plancha. As the two fall to the floor, Mental on top of Madison, the official restarts his ten count.

VASSA: “Johnny Mental isn’t afraid to put his body on the line, that’s for sure!”

JOHNSON: “He sure isn’t! He caught Madison by surprise with that plancha!”

“One! … Two!”

The two begin to crawl back to their feet, slow but racing against the other. “Three! … Four!” Standing first, Mental quickly turns his attention to Madison and locks onto his wrist with both hands. He then whips Madison around and throws him into the steel barricade at ringside. “Five!” Stretching his arms out to the side, Madison holds himself up using the top of the barricade. Mental then charges towards him and hits him with a high leg clothesline, flipping Madison over the barricade and into the floor with the fans.

“Six!”

JOHNSON: “The fans are getting an up close and personal view of the action tonight!”

VASSA: “Johnny Mental is really bringing the fight to Chris Madison tonight.”

“Seven!”

Pulling himself back to his feet with assistance of the barricade, Mental then turns back to the ring and rolls in underneath the bottom rope.

“Eight!”

JOHNSON: “Madison is about to be counted out here.”

VASSA: “Well that’s one shitty way to end a streak.”

JOHNSON: “Wait a second! What’s Johnny doing?!”

Rolling back underneath the bottom rope, Mental exits the ring and drops down to the floor, landing on his feet and restarting the official’s ten count.

VASSA: “Johnny’s going back for more!”

“One!”

With Madison slowly climbing to his feet on the other side of the barricade, Mental makes his way over to him. “Two!” Reaching over the barricade, Mental grabs ahold of Madison and then pulls him in close before dragging him over the barricade. “Three!” Pulling Madison up to his feet, Mental then hits him over the back with a forearm smash. “Four!” Madison then wraps his arms around Mental’s waist and lifts him up into the air. With Mental held over his shoulder, Madison then runs towards the ring and as the two draw near, Madison drives Mental back into the top corner of the apron. “Five! … Six!” Dropping Mental back down to his feet, Madison then spins him around before grabbing his head with both hands. Pulling Mental’s head back, Madison then thrusts it downward, slamming him face-first into the top of the apron. “Seven!”

Madison then rolls Mental back into the ring before sliding in himself and ending the official’s count.

VASSA: “Management should have just booked this match as a falls count anywhere.”

JOHNSON: “I don’t think these two would have minded if that was the case.”

VASSA: “Oh well, they’re back in the ring now and Madison seems to have turned things around in his favor.”

With Mental down on the mat favoring his back, Madison stands back to his feet and slowly paces around him, stalking and calculating his next move. Grabbing ahold of Mental’s head with one hand and his arm with the other, Madison drags him up to his feet and then slams him back-first into the corner. Madison then unloads with multiple kicks to Mental’s lower legs, lefts and rights, pounding away at him with each connecting blow. After kicking Mental about half a dozen times, Madison takes a few steps backwards and then leaps forward, driving his knee underneath Mental’s chin with a flying knee strike.

JOHNSON: “Johnny is going to be seeing stars after that knee to the chin!”

VASSA: “Madison has him trapped in the corner and can do some serious damage while he has him there.”

Holding himself up with his arms spread across the top ropes, Mental leaves his mid-section open for Madison to drop down to one knee and swing forward. With all of his strength, Madison drives his fist into Mental’s stomach, forcing a painful howl from Mental as the first collides with his flesh. Madison then pops back up to both feet and then grabs ahold of Mental, ripping him away from the corner and wrapping both arms around him. With Mental held close and tight, Madison then lifts him off his feet and throws him over his head with a belly-to-belly suplex, sending him flying across the ring and crashing to the canvas.

Rolling over to his stomach, Madison pushes himself up in an instant and quickly locks his eyes Mental who has finally stopped rolling in front of the corner across the ring. Not wasting any time, Madison quickly makes his way over to Mental and drops down to his knees beside him. Holding Mental down with both hands, Madison then begins to drive his knee into Mental’s ribcage, over and over with force. With each landing knee strike, Mental grunts from the pain as it shoot throughout his entire body. After pounding Mental’s ribs as if he were tenderizing a piece of meat, Madison pushes himself up and then latches on to Mental’s arm. Pulling him up, Madison then lifts him into the air and drops him back to the mat with a sit-out spinebuster.

JOHNSON: “The entire ring is rumbling with that sit-out spinebuster!”

VASSA: “Johnny better do something quickly before this match gets out of hand.”

JOHNSON: “Madison is going for the pin!”

Moving Mental’s legs to the side, Madison then crawls on top of Mental and covers him for the pin.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

VASSA: “Johnny kicks out!”

JOHNSON: “He still has some fight left in him!”

Looking down at Mental with a surprised look on his face, Madison can’t believe he just kicked out of the pin attempt. Instead of wasting any time over it, Madison then pushes himself up and stands tall, looking down at Mental and taking a short moment to catch his breath. He then reaches down and locks onto Mental’s wrist, jerking him up to his feet. With his grip still firm on Mental’s wrist, Madison then goes to throw him to the corner but before he can release, Mental reverses and whips him to the ropes instead.

VASSA: “Mental with the reverse!”

Running full speed to the ropes, Madison bounces off and comes back on the rebound. With Madison drawing near, Mental leaps into the air and as Madison gets within distance, he wraps his legs around Madison’s head. Falling backwards, Mental lifts Madison up from his feet and flips him across the ring with a hurricanrana. Crashing to the mat, Madison rolls until finally coming to a stop at the ropes. With a second wind and new burst of energy, Mental quickly climbs to his feet. He then turns his attention to Madison who is just starting to shake off the previous move. Rushing over, Mental goes on the attack with kicks and stomps to Madison’s torso.

Mental then lifts Madison up from the mat and turns him around, position himself behind him. With Madison facing the ropes, Mental wraps his arms around Madison’s waist and locks his hands. He then lifts Madison up from his feet and slams him backwards with a release German suplex. With Madison down, Mental then races in and leaps into the air, coming down with a leg drop across his throat. Back on his feet, Mental pulls Madison up but as he does, Madison swats his hands away and then lunges forward, locking up with him and driving him backwards across the ring. As Mental back rests against the ropes, Madison then unloads with body punches, hitting Mental from both sides, crushing his ribs.

Madison then grabs Mental by the back of the head with one hand and after walking him in a circle, Madison throws him to the ropes and releases. Hitting the top rope with his stomach, Mental flips over but grabs onto the rope, and manages to land down to his feet on the apron. Madison then lunges forward with a right hook but as he does, Mental ducks and thrusts his shoulder through the top and middle ropes, hitting Madison in the stomach and forcing him to stumble backwards a few steps. Mental then grabs onto the top ropes and leaps into the air, spinning around and planting his feet onto the top rope with his back turned to Madison. Mental then springboards off the top rope and spins around, aiming to wrap his arm around Madison’s head.

JOHNSON: “The Raven’s Call!”

VASSA: “Johnny is going for the seven-twenty DDT!”

As Mental closes in, Madison quickly jumps into the air and grabs ahold of Mental’s head with both hands. Falling backwards to the mat, Madison pulls Mental down with him before he had a chance to complete the seven-twenty DDT. With his knees curled against his chest, Madison hits the mat first and drives Mental’s face downward into them

VASSA: “Holy shit, Madison reversed it!”

JOHNSON: “Chaos Theory!”

VASSA: “Holy-fucking-shit!”

After the surprise reversal and executing the Chas Theory, Madison pushes Mental off of him and rolls him over to his side. Raising to both knees, Madison looks over the electric crowd before releasing a thunderous battle cry. He then crawls on top of Mental, hooks the leg, and goes for the pin as the ref sweeps in for the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

JOHNSON: “And the streak continues!”

VASSA: “This is two back to back matches that Madison has countered a big move and turned it into something huge!”

DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!

“You Want A Battle? (Here’s A War)” hits the speakers as Madison quickly bursts to his feet with his arms spread, roaring into the air. The official then stands beside him and grabs onto Madison’s arm, raising it into the air.

POWERS: “Here is your winner by pinfall, CHRIS “MAYHEM” MMAADDIISSOONN!!!”

Ripping his arm away from the official, Madison rushes over to the corner and quickly ascends to the top. As he does, the crowd erupts in another wave of mixed cheers and boos.

JOHNSON: “What is he doing out here?!”

VASSA: “Here comes the cavalry!”

JOHNSON: “It’s just Cashe so I wouldn’t consider it a cavalry, but what’s he doing out here?”

Rushing down to the ring, Cashe slides in underneath the bottom ropes. Looking across the ring, he spots Madison standing at the top of the corner, unaware that he’s made an appearance. Cashe then goes ballistic and begins to stomp on Mental wildly. Hearing the commotion in the background, Madison slowly turns his head to see Cashe going to town on Mental who is still out cold. Madison hops down from the corner and slowly approaches Cashe, who ignores his presence and continues to attack the unconscious body of Mental.

JOHNSON: “Come on, is this really necessary?!”

VASSA: “Unstable is proving why they’re the dominant force in 4CW.”

JOHNSON: “But is this necessary? Johnny is unconscious so what does this prove?”

DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!

Madison then reaches down and grabs ahold of Mental, lifting him up to his feet and then holding him up to face Cashe. With mental arms held behind his back, Cashe then unloads with a series of body punches before following up with a thrusting headbutt to Mental’s chops, busting his mouth wide open. With his head held low, blood begins to pour from Mental’s mouth. Cashe then winds up and swings with an uppercut, connecting with Mental’s face and as it does, Madison releases his hold. Mental falls backwards before crashing to the canvas with his head hitting the mat with a thud.

JOHNSON: “This is getting out of control! Johnny didn’t deserve this. The match was over! Madison beat him cleanly.”

VASSA: “It’s not about who deserves what, it’s about making a statement and these guys are doing just that.”

DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!

The official walks over to Cashe but before he can open his mouth, Cashe draws back his fist, scaring the official and making him flee out of fear. Madison and Cashe then look down at Mental, face covered in blood, and just share a laugh.

JOHNSON: “So this is funny now?”

VASSA: “I do have to admit, it was pretty entertaining.”

JOHNSON: “This is just disgusting! Someone needs to stand up to Unstable!”

VASSA: “Are you going to be the one to do it?”

JOHNSON: “Of course not but something HAS to be done.”

VASSA: “Well just calm your tits, old man, it looks like they’re finished tuning Johnny up.”

JOHNSON: “Good! I can’t stand to sit and watch any more of this filth! We’ll be right back folks after this mess is cleaned up here in the ring.”

Cashe and Madison continue talking amongst each other, looking down at Mental and taunting him, more so Cashe. As the music continues to play in the background, the crowd gives mixed reactions, not playing a factor to Cashe and Madison’s actions. With the two in the ring standing over Mental, the scene then slowly fades out as we cut backstage.

The cameras go live backstage inside the UW-Milwaukee Panther Arena. Gabriel Hartman is on the scene as he turns his head to the left only to step back from what he sees. The cameras pick up on the sightings of 4CW’s own, Jair Hopkins to a robust of cheers as he is sporting a Cheesehead on his head, an Aaron Rodgers jersey with a Sword and Shield in both his hands as Hartman is heard cackling from the former 4CW Champion’s appearance at the moment.

HARTMAN: “WHAT ON EARTH … What are you wearing?”

Hopkins nods, smirking while doing his suit-up good.

HOPKINS: “Prepared for the bloodbath tonight here in Milwaukee. It’s been talk since the match got announced man. I’m in good spirits, good health. I got a re-upped knee, no damage. I’m ready!”

Hartman continued to shake his head at the attire.

HARTMAN: “Wow, man … You really went all out!”

HOPKINS: “I been listening back to Biggies “Life After Death” the entire day fam, so I’m ready for war. Ready for battle. Cyrus Riddle gonna get the D in the worst way … and before you look at me odd like you doin’ right now, Hartman. I ain’t talking bout that type of D …. I’m talking about being dominant, dominating that son of a bitch!”

Hopkins points his sword at the camera.

HOPKINS: “We going to tear the roof off and while we doing that, I’m going to tear your head off. You said earlier today when I tweeted you, you said you can’t kill what is already dead. I proceeded to say I’ll take it a step further, making you even more dead, fam. You joined a bunch of scoundrels led by a clown. You really think you about this life right now, man?”

HOPKINS: “You went from Omerta to Oberta … Beef Sausage. You done turned your back on your homeboy to join up with these bums. That’s cool though. Tonight you’ll be the first of the group to go down by the mighty sword.”

HARTMAN: “Jesus Hops … You’re fired up!”

HOPKINS: “Damn right I’m lit …. I still feel that dick kick from Kat Jones last show. I’m ready to pound it out on Cyrus’s bald-ass head. Now if you’ll excuse me …. I got a battle to win!”

Hartman raises his hand as he motions it towards the exit.

HARTMAN: “All yours … Good luck out there!”

Hopkins takes off with huge stride as he points his sword up in the air as he makes his way off out of sight as cameras take off back to ringside.

JOHNSON: “Up next we have Cyrus Riddle taking on Jair Hopkins!”

VASSA: “I’ve been looking forward to this match all night long, Steve. Now that it’s here, it’s exciting!”

JOHNSON: “Jair was on a brief break after Fright Night but returned strong two weeks ago with a win over Kat Jones.”

VASSA: “That was a good one. Let’s not forget that Cyrus is now a member of Unstable. I wouldn’t be surprised if we see them out here, especially after the last match when Cashe decided to show his face.”

JOHNSON: “Jair and Cashe do have quite a history. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Wallace has reached out to Jair to help in the battle against Unstable.”

VASSA: “He already has security detail. We’ve seen Aidan and Bryan with him earlier talking about fighting against Unstable. His “sons” are all here now with the addition of Luke Jones recently. I mean Bronx, Bryan, Luke and Kat Jones are one hell of a group to assemble, the Wallace Family.”

JOHNSON: “I feel like we’re forgetting one of his “kids”.”

VASSA: “There’s Darryl I’ve seen here and there on Twitter but he isn’t signed with 4CW.”

JOHNSON: “Anyways… let’s get on to the match.”

POWERS: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall!”

The lights go out in the arena and a spotlight shines upon the entrance curtain as the guitars of “Anarchy in the U.K.” begin to play.

“Right Now (laughing)” Cyrus Riddle smoothly emerges from behind the curtain with his sunglasses affixed to his face, as well as donning a snarky grin as he raises his middle and index fingers to the crowd. He begins to walk to the ring with a swagger in his step and a cocky expression of confidence.

“I am an anti-Christ

I am an anarchist,

Don’t know what I want

But I know how to get it

I want to destroy the passerby

‘Cause I want to be anarchy!”

POWERS: “Making his way to the ring from London, England and weighing in at two hundred twenty eight pounds, he is “The Archetype”, “The Epitome of Excellence”… Cyrus Riddle!”

Riddle gets to the ring and rolls under the bottom rope, standing to his feet with impressive quickness, then goes to the corner turnbuckle, standing on the middle and mouthing off to the crowd and holding his arms out to be embraced.

“Anarchy for the U.K.

It’s coming sometime and maybe

I give a wrong time, stop a traffic line.

Your future dream is a shopping scheme

‘Cause I want to be anarchy”

After jumping down off of the middle turnbuckle, Cyrus removes his sunglasses and jacket, sitting them on the ring post as he leans against the ring ropes, preparing himself for the match to begin.

Riddle’s music is then instantly cut off and replaced by “Window” by Let Go. Cyrus walks to the middle of the ring, confused.

VASSA: “Who is coming out to the ring?”

JOHNSON: “I have never even heard this song before.”

Cyrus stands hands on his hips waiting to see steps through. Suddenly Darryl Wallace walks through the curtain, mic in hand.

VASSA: “It’s Darryl Wallace?”

DARRYL: “Cut my music.”

The music is abruptly stopped.

DARRYL: “Cyrus, we’ve gotta have a word.”

Cyrus stands in the ring unamused, looking at Darryl, urging him on.

DARRYL: “What the fuck is going on? Cy we were brothers. I had your back, accepted you as family. Hell even when my dad was being a dick about it, I accepted your girl, now you go and turn your back on us. AND FOR THOSE FUCKS? What’s goin on? Not only did you cross us, but you’ve got Tate just hanging in the balance. What’s goin on? I think you owe me a few fucking answers.”

Cyrus walks over to the corner and requests a microphone, and then walks back to the center to give Darryl his attention.

RIDDLE: “I don’t owe you or any of these twats anything at all. If you want answers, you have to watch everything unfold. This isn’t about you and I, this is about the bigger picture. Sustainability is a goal, and to achieve that, the methods have to be a bit unclear. Now, as for Tate, that’s a matter between us, but she’ll understand one day that what I am doing is far greater than to hinder progress over a few hurt feelings.”

Darryl climbs into the ring, standing across from Cyrus at this point. They are separated by just a foot or two.

DARRYL: “So you’d rather sacrifice everything, push out the people that actually gave a shit about you, had your back, people who would have stood behind you as brothers. You throw all of that away to achieve something for yourself? Something, not even guaranteed? We could have OWNED 4CW as a family. You, me, Bryan, Bronxy, we could have been on top of the world. Unstable, they may be at the top now, but the only place for them to go is down, and that time is fast approaching. You made your choice Cyrus, I hope you made the right one.”

Cyrus smirks at Darryl arrogantly while holding the microphone up to his lips.

RIDDLE: “I stand firm on what I’ve chosen to do, just as you are standing firm in your opposing view of what I’ve done. If memory serves me correct, you made a few promises on what you would do if you ever came into contact with me. So, Darryl…brother…mate…what will it be?”

Cyrus throws the microphone behind him and holds his arms out.

Darryl smirks, tossing his microphone aside. He jaws a little something towards Cyrus before moving closer. Cyrus takes one step backwards and Darryl notices a slight look behind him. Instinctively Darryl turns while stepping aside, luckily just in time for Jason Cashe to go barreling straight into Cyrus, sending Cyrus tumbling outside the ring.

JOHNSON: “JASON CASHE JUST TOOK OUT HIS OWN PARTNER!”

VASSA: “Darryl must have known it was coming, and stepped aside just in time causing the reckless Jason Cashe to send Cyrus straight to the floor.”

Cashe looks on at Cyrus a moment before whipping around toward Darryl who made a full run at Cashe and begins clubbing him, raining punches, as Cashe tries to push away to get some distance between them. Finally Cashe gets enough space to where he can open up as well. Both men are sending flurries of punches into each other wildly. Finally Darryl grabs Cashe, and carries him down to the mat, taking a mounted position he starts dropping punches into the side of Jason’s head.

JOHNSON: “These two are going to rip each other to shreds. We need to get somebody out here.”

Jason flips Darryl, reversing positions, and starts clubbing in return, but instead of covering up, Darryl punches upward trying to catch Jason hard enough to slow down his assault. Finally a crowd of security and referees come out from the back, and start pulling the two apart, but Jason breaks free, hopping over two security guards to land a couple punches on Darryl’s head before they were able to drag him back. Darryl begins pushing, driving the pile of guards into Jason’s pile.

VASSA: “These two men really want to get at each other right now.”

Finally the two piles converge and Darryl starts tossing punches over the shoulders, and around security. You can tell he’s swinging wildly as a couple guards drop down from frenzied blows. Cashe starts swinging back, but again the two are separated. After several more attempts to break free, Darryl drops out of the ring, guards standing between him and Jason as Jason’s guards corral him to the opposite side of the ring.

Cyrus on the outside is up on one knee looking on, unsure exactly what happened, but sees the crowd of guards and knows something went down. As he looks on, Darryl is pushed up the ramp, jawing and yelling at Cashe the entire way until he is behind the curtain.

JOHNSON: “What’s going on here?! We’re supposed to be having a match between Cyrus and Jair!”

VASSA: “Who says we still aren’t going to have that match?”

JOHNSON: “Something has to be done about Unstable because they’re starting to become a disruption.”

VASSA: “I don’t know if you were watching the same thing I was but Darryl Wallace came out here and interrupted things.”

JOHNSON: “Oh whatever! We’re going to go backstage momentarily folks while we get a handle on things here at ringside. Maybe we might just see a match when we return if people will stop interrupting the show!”

The production cuts to the backstage area where we find Frankie Morrison navigating through the back corridors of the UW – Milwaukee Panther Arena. He comes to an abrupt stop as he turns a corner. Posted outside of what was Perry Wallace’s designated office were four men, all dressed in jeans and t-shirts with black leather vests. Frankie pauses for a moment before trying to maneuver passed them as if they weren’t there. As Frankie reaches for the door handle one of them extends his arm and places his hand in Frankie’s chest.

MORRISON: “You may want to go ahead and remove that hand from my jacket. It costs more than whatever Mr. Wallace is paying you.”

Morrison and the security personnel stare at one another for a moment before he retracts his hand. Two guards moved behind Morrison as two stand in front of him. As a group they enter the room to find Perry sitting behind his desk in a high back leather office chair. Kaysie Sherell is sitting on top of the desk, her legs crossed over one another and her back to the door. Morrison looks around the room and holds his arms outward.

MORRISON: “It’s just me… All of this isn’t necessary at the moment.”

WALLACE: “At the moment? Are you fucking kidding me? All of that nonsense two weeks ago wasn’t necessary but you Unstable fucks thought it was. I’m not falling into any traps again from here on out. What do you want?”

MORRISON: “You act like I’m the one who cracked you over the head with a steel chair. I just wanted to return the 4CW Championship to you.”

Shaking his head back and forth, Wallace chuckles quietly before looking back up at Frankie. He then turns his attention to Kaysie, sitting quietly and trying to be unnoticed. Wallace then smiles before clearing his throat.

WALLACE: ”Kaysie, dear… would you be kind enough to give us the room for a few moments. This won’t take long.”

Kaysie then stands up slowly before turning towards the door. With his eyes locked on her as she walks away, Wallace’s eyes bounce back and forth from side to side with a dumbfounded look on his face. As she steps into the hall, two of the men follow behind her and the other two stay put. Wallace then looks up at both of them as the dumb look quickly fades away.

WALLACE: “You two can leave us as well. I’m not worried about this old timer doing anything stupid without his posse to back him up.”

The other two men then leave the room before closing the door behind them, leaving Wallace and Frankie sitting across from each other.

WALLACE: “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

MORRISON: “Yeah, you did pretty well for yourself…”

WALLACE: ”I know, unlike those pieces of trash you associate yourself with. So let me ask you again. What do you want? Why are you here, in my goddamn office nonetheless?”

Frankie laughed at Perry’s attempt to toss an insult his way. He reached across the desk and grabbed a hold of a picture frame that was facing Perry. He spun it around and looked at the photo for a moment before laying it flat on the desk.

MORRISON: “Those pieces of trash represent the best talent you have on your roster. Cashe has been the guy since we opened these doors. Niobe has dedicated herself to this company since day one and has improved by leaps and bounds. Riddle and O’Donnell were big money names that you had to have. All of a sudden, because they’ve bound together as a united group that doesn’t quite want to play by your rules you consider them pieces of trash? You really are a funny guy Perry.”

Frankie slides back in his seat and crosses one leg of his over the other. He holds his hands up about chest high, each finger on his right hand pressed against its match on the left hand.

MORRISON: “I’ve come to talk to you about business. Chris Madison has run through everyone that you’ve put him up against. I know you saw him just put away Johnny Mental to keep his streak alive. When are we going to start discussing a shot at the 4CW Championship? I’ve sat beside you in the past and seen you reward people for less impressive feats than starting off with nine wins in a row.”

Thinking over his next words wisely, Perry sits in silence for a brief moment. He then reaches across the desk and grabs the bottle of Scotch and his empty glass sitting next to it. After pouring himself a glass, he looks to Frankie.

WALLACE: ”Care for a glass?

A brief silence fills the room and before Frankie can answer, Perry cuts him off.

WALLACE: ”Well if you do, you know where the concessions are. So let me get this right. Not only do you come in here and assemble this little hit squad of people to turn against me, you now want to ask for a title shot for Madison? I’m not saying the man doesn’t deserve it, he has in fact ran through each and every person placed in front of him. But why would I reward him, someone who stands against me?”

MORRISON: “Because if you don’t you’re only proving every word that comes out of our mouths to be true. Not rewarding Madison a title shot makes you look incapable of running this company impartially. He has beaten former champions, defeated John Austin as he held the Pride Championship… Just because you feel threatened by the presence of the Unstable doesn’t give you the right to deny a man that has earned his chance. I’ve come to you on behalf of my client. If you’re unwilling to do business in a civil manner then we’ll just have to consider our options. But I’ve known the man a lot longer than you. The last thing you want is for Chris Madison to run around this place pissed off…”

WALLACE: “I imagine it would be like a lot of folks running around on Twitter pissed off after Bronx ruined Star Wars for them. But I get it, you want what’s best for you client. Let me ask you a question. Where the hell is Dakota?”

MORRISON: “Now what kind of business man would I be if I were to just throw all of my bargaining chips on the table at once?”

WALLACE: “So you’re not denying that you had a hand in the disappearance of Dakota? That’s interesting. I figured you’d sit there across from me and continue to play dumb.”

MORRISON: “I did return the 4CW Championship to you two weeks ago. I know you’re not as dumb as you come across. I at least knew enough about his disappearance to get you your belt back.”

WALLACE: “I also believe that you or the people you represent had a hand in it. I mean having Cyrus run out there and chase the van as it drove away was the icing on the cake. So you take out the current champion, who I’m still waiting to hear from before i do anything with the championship, and then you expect me to just put Madison next in line? Come on man, who do you think you’re playing?”

MORRISON: “What I’m doing is providing you an opportunity to prove me wrong; prove the Unstable wrong. Madison’s body of work since joining 4CW warrants a title shot. Anyone else in his position would have already been rewarded. But because you have a grudge against me, against the Unstable as a group, you’re willing to turn a blind eye to his dominance. That’s bad business; and that’s exactly what we’ve been claiming. You’re no longer fit to run this company!”

WALLACE: ”Unfit to run this company… are you fucking kidding me? Okay, I get it, you want to do something for your client, but you’re also not doing me any favors. Whether you returned the 4CW Championship to me or not, you didn’t return the champion. How am I supposed to give Madison a shot at the 4CW Championship when my champion isn’t around to defend the championship? That’s what I don’t understand. Dakota is still the champ, whether or not he’s here at the present moment. I’m holding out, hoping he returns soon to put you and every single one of you Unstable pricks in your place. But until that time comes, until my champion is back where he belongs, I cannot give Madison a shot at the championship, at least not until the championship is officially vacated due to Dakota not being able to defend it, more so due to him being kidnapped by some individuals scared to step into the ring with The Butcher. I’ll tell you what, though.”

Wallace leans forward in his chair, staring across the desk into Morrison’s eyes. He pauses for a moment, thinking over what he’s about to say next, making sure he is making the right decision, forced hand or not.

WALLACE: ”Since my 4CW Champion can’t be here to put you and anyone who steps to him in their place, I’ll do you a solid. I can give you, well Madison, a shot at a championship at Winter Wasteland. It’s not going to be for the 4CW Championship because as I said earlier, you, or someone you know, decided to take him out of the picture, and whether he’s here or not, he still is the champion and a match can’t happen without him being involved. So… here’s what I’m going to do. Madison has in fact ran through any and all competition placed in front of him. He did in fact defeat John Austin, the current champ who has a championship defense later tonight. I mean that has to stand for something, right? How about at Winter Wasteland, Madison will face whoever leaves here tonight as the Pride Champion?”

MORRISON: “I think I can sell that to my client. Just keep in mind… IF Dakota comes back, Chris has proved himself the most qualified for the first shot. If not and the title gets vacated, I’m sure Madison will be in the conversation.”

Frankie Morrison lifts himself up from his seat and quickly turns his back to Perry Wallace. Morrison escorts himself out of Perry’s office before he had any opportunity to utter a sound.

UNDERCARD
CYRUS RIDDLE VS. JAIR HOPKINS

Cyrus Riddle stands alone, finally, in the center of the ring, his stare burning through the nearly invisible curtain that allows 4CW roster to make their way to the ring. He checks his elbows, looks around at the mostly opposing crowd, and scowls, as if he felt Jair Hopkins had already taken too long to get his ass to the ring. When the lights grow dim, finally, he looks back to the curtain and nods his head just a touch. There are now red and white lights blinking at mixed speeds…

JOHNSON: “HERE COMES HOPKINS!!”

VASSA: “Normally, I’d make fun of you for screaming in my ear, but I’ll admit, when I saw this match booked, I had the same sort of reaction. Just…yelled, a little, not at anyone in particular, though. Or for anyone.”

JOHNSON: “What are you talking about?! The energy inside of the building at the moment, ladies and gentlemen, it’s ELECTRIC!”

“How many start a journey, but never see the end

I never ask how, conceive it then speak in whens

A man will work his whole life to see his ego shed

I sew it up needle head all I need is thread

A team can only take it as far as its strongest leader

The streets are red, runnin with the blood of non-believers”

As “Fate” by Ces Cru came in, Hopkins appeared from the back as his appearance drew a large amount of cheers. Those who remained on the other side of the fence tried to wash out the sounds of the loud cheers but they remained strong. The soft-white spotlight followed Hopkins as he slowly made his way to the ramp and down it, arms out wide as he takes the moment all in.

POWERS: “From the “Concrete Jungle” in Brooklyn, New York, he stands at five feet, eight inches and weighs in at two hundred eight pounds, JAIR HHOOPPKKIINNSS!!!”

“I’m out for action what the fuck are y’all about relaxin’?

They can doubt my sanity but never doubt my passion

And I don’t know why they deceive us, feed us lies mislead us

He who denies what he has seen is worse than blind believers

I just play the cards the way they’re dealt”

The lights come back to normal as Hopkins continues on, he goes left, going down the ramp as he slaps all the hands that are reaching out. Looking to his right, he goes up and does the same on the right side, getting them all as well. He finally makes it all the way down and with a speed burst, he rolls underneath the bottom ring ropes as he gets to his feet and immediately climbs the nearest turnbuckle. Dropping down soon after, he moves around the ring, finally putting his focus toward Cyrus Riddle, with a big, bright smile. Ignoring the highly touted, widely reputed, newly despised member of the Unstable was bound to catch Riddle’s attention. He didn’t show it, but it did, and Jair nods his head, giving Riddle a quick point, before Logan Whitby completes his prematch duties and calls for the bell.

DING!!! DING!!!

JOHNSON: “We are UNDERWAY, Hopkins versus Riddle, two warriors about to TEAR THE ROOF OFF of this entire Milwaukee college campus!”

VASSA: “Think either of them have bell time jitters? This is a huge match for both of these guys. The heat built ALL week, and I swear to god, if you wanted to cut the tension with a knife, you couldn’t- not even with my coke blade! SHIT!”

JOHNSON: “The two men are circling, neither of them have jumped to make the first move, neither of them have even made it an inch closer toward the other. Just steps to the right.”

Riddle and Hopkins never lose focus of one another as the “you first, please,” dance makes its way to the right about five more feet, before Hopkins rushes towards Riddle, who stands ready. Jair looks to be building up for a classic dropkick, but when he releases the energy from his legs, they go outward and down, not up and out, and suddenly, Riddle found himself prepared for an entirely different defense than one the 208 pound Hopkins called for, as he executes a perfect baseball pop-up slide through his opponents legs. Riddle whips around to find himself doubled over with a stiff kick to the gut, followed by a front face slam.

JOHNSON: “Hopkins is LIGHTNING FAST isn’t he?!”

VASSA: “He sure is, Steve, the man can thread a needle with his feet!”

JOHNSON: “I don’t follow.”

VASSA: “I know, man. I know- AND JAIR gets a good deal of air there, landing that jumping elbow drop square in the center of Riddle’s back!”

JOHNSON: “AND HE FOLLOWS IT UP WITH ANOTHER!”

Hopkins seems to try to make every move as dynamic as possible, which is excellent showmanship, but can tire an improperly trained wrestler out early. Hopkins was looking pretty trained. With a couple of bounces before the big jump, Hopkins flies into the air and crashes down on Riddle’s right trap muscle with a knee drop, before he hops back to his feet and, in an ASTOUNDING display of athleticism, executes a perfect standing CORKSCREW MOONSAULT!

VASSA: “WHAT A DISPLAY of athleticism by JAIR HOPKINS! I don’t remember the last time Riddle had been floored and worked by so many moves in such little time.”

JOHNSON: “It’s been impressive to watch, but Hopkins is landing these maneuvers on areas of the body not prone to instant, massive injury from blunt trauma.”

VASSA: “You’re not a doctor, but you’re old as fuck, so I believe you.”

JOHNSON: “HOPKINS going for the quick cover- I don’t think it’s gonna be enough, Vinny.”

Logan Whitby slides into position before Hopkins is entirely covering Riddle. Once shoulders were turned and pinned, Whitby counted by the book, one slap of the mat as quick as the next. That’s all we’d find out, this time, though.

JOHNSON: “TWO COUNT and Riddle kicks out easily.”

VASSA: “Riddle’s a methodical veteran, he’s gonna use any two seconds he can to regenerate his reserves. Hopkins would too.”

JOHNSON: “That’s what comes with leadership and longevity. Let the rookies worry about proving who didn’t hurt who.”

Without missing a beat, Hopkins pops to his feet and meets the rising Riddle in a seated position. The speed with which Hopkins’ face would hit Riddle’s knees upon finding himself in this position was astounding. Hopkins took one deeper breath than he should have in his attempt to keep control of Riddle, and the ring general made him pay for it with a quick pair of knees to the cheekbones. Jair bounced from the snap judgement of decision to breathe correction and held his cheeks as he meandered backward, stunned by the quick reversal in momentum. The reversal in crowd involvement has occurred as well, a bevy of LOUD boos come streaming from almost every seat in the Panther’s arena. Hopkins leaned forward once to shake out the pain and bounced back around, ready to get at it again, but Cyrus proved to be too quick. Three short-arm clotheslines in a row took place, Cyrus never releasing the controlled arm, before took that same arm, wrapped it around his own head, gripped his opponent- baffled and battered- around the waist, and let fury fly backward, PLANTING Hopkins close to the center of the ring while almost simultaneously LANDING in a bridging position- Whitby is already in place for the count!

ONE

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TWO

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JOHNSON: “HOPKINS kicks out at two!”

VASSA: ‘”Just like Riddle, we said it- that was a flurry of blazing offense that would overwhelm the senses of an inexperienced, lesser competitor, but that was never going to be enough to put Hopkins away. I usually leave the stupid, obvious comments to you, Johnson, but the crowd is FUCKIN’ ROCKIN’ right now!”

Riddle snaps to his feet just to fall back down to Hopkins, who laid tasked to receive three quick knee drops to the side of his head, sized, aimed and executed with master proficiency by The Archetype, who follows this repeated offense with a brief pause, and then a disrespectful, uncharacteristic slap across the top of Jair’s forehead. Disrespect and a test of psychological endurance are the two motives behind this otherwise meaningless shot. Amidst raucous boos, Riddle, again, uncharacteristically picks his opponent up and tosses him to the outside, an area with which he recently became accustomed in his battle with Jason Cashe and Johnny Mental. This would prove to be a rare Archetype mistake, while he’s more comfortable with the terrain outside of the squared circle, his exit to follow Hopkins’ wasn’t executed with enough urgency. By the time Cyrus’ feet reached the floor, he was met with a standing high knee shot to the forehead- the back of the head, on the other hand, Hopkins never releases, and he tucks it beneath his right arm, dropping Cyrus face first into the much harder, unforgiving outside surface. The crowd’s almost fluid motion has become unmistakable. Riddle attempts to reach his feet perhaps faster than his physical form was ready and stumbles forward. Hopkins aids Riddle’s destined journey into the arms of the steel steps by firing him forward with the velocity created by a dropkick delivered to the small of Riddle’s back! Hopkins shakes his head with excitement and confidence, jumping the crowd’s energy up that much more. The look on his face, and the repeated pointing at the geographic spot where he connected with Riddle, indicated that a little foreshadowing may have just occurred.

It wasn’t long before Hopkins founds his way up to the barricade surrounding the ring. With intense focus and resigned fanfare, Hopkins found his footing quicker than the barricade seemed it should have allowed. Then?

Hopkins takes off, scaling the top of the barricade at almost FULL speed! With a head full of steam, and an ailing Cyrus Riddle finding his footing, and leaning forward, gripping his abdomen and his lower back with a grimace of great discomfort, HOPKINS LEAPS, covering five feet of air, before SMASHING RIDDLE back into the STEEL STEPS with a CANNONBALL! Almost SUICIDAL if missed! The crowd reaction was, in this day and age, easy to call out.

“HO-LY-SHIT! HO-LY-SHIT! HO-LY-SHIT! HO-LY-SHIT! HO-LY-SHIT!”

VASSA: “WHAT THE FUCK, HO-LLLLLLLY SHIT, STEVE! HOO-LLLLL-YYYYY-“

Hopkins lays on his back, breathing heavily, his right leg resting against the side of the ring, almost into its confines. Riddle lays, possibly passing away, motionless on the crown of the steel steps. Riddle had made the decision to take the fight outside. Hopkins took the decision making over from there. After several moments of SLOWWWWWW counting from Whitby, knowing full well that rules are rules, but these folks didn’t come to see a double count out after a great bit of action, Hopkins is the first to find his knees and ultimately his feet. Nearly twenty seconds (if you don’t ask Whitby) went by without much activity, and the crowd had just now allowed their Holy Shit chants to fade. Riddle is apparently not broken in half, inside, because Hopkins is able to roll him into the ring, making a tired, but adequate cover. Whitby…

ONE

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.

TWO

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THR–

JOHNSON: “HOP-KINS CAN’T KEEP RIDDLE DOWN! RIDDLE KICKS OUT!”

VASSA: “So far, Steve, this reminds me a little of “Marvelous” Marvin Hagler vs. Thomas Hearns, from the mid-1980s. The match hasn’t taken place for a very long time, but these men have thrown everything they’ve had at one another without much of a break- this one isn’t over, Steve, BUT IT AIN’T GOIN’ ALL NIGHT!”

Jair spends a moment- one- of discouragement over Riddle’s prone body. When his warrior instinct kicks in, it’s already too late. The leaning Jair had reached his arms out just enough to almost touch Riddle, when he was met with a sneaky right hand to the clavicle, just below Hopkins’ throat! Hopkins natural reaction is to shoot backward, clutching the rarely attacked, but highly vulnerable area of the anatomy, as long as it’s stricken properly. One thing Riddle knows how to do in most instances? Execute. Kill, even- and he gives it hell. He finds his way to his feet, a wince detectable by the bigger fans, but most folks would identify him as fine. Finding his way to a coughing Hopkins, Riddle wastes no time picking his opponent up to his feet, hooking him into what looks to be a suplex- but, a vertical suplex wouldn’t fly. Was he going to try to suplex Hopkins out of the ring, totally vertical?

No, it’s worse than that, in MOST ways.

Cyrus lifts Hopkins into the air, as suspected, but pushes his opponent toward the center of the ring and SNAPS like a viper snatching a victorious, lightning quick blow- this all leads Hopkins to slam into the mat CHIN AND CLAVICLE FIRST! Hopkins had just become the most disrespected man in Milwaukee, at the moment.

VASSA: “DID CYRUS RIDDLE JUST HIT JAIR WITH HIS OWN MOVE?!?”

JOHNSON: “That was BREAD N’ BUTTER- modified to capitalize on the quick strike a moment ago!”

“WHAT-THE-FUCK!? WHAT-THE-FUCK?! WHAT-THE-FUCK!?’

Riddle never loses the grip previously held on Jair and rolls him onto his back, allowing the count to begin before any leg is hooked.

ONE

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.

TWO

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.

THR… KICKOUT!!!

The last part of the three count, folks in the balcony could hear Steve Johnson scream from the announcers table.

VASSA: “HOW THE HELL DID HE- JOHNSON, this is a WAR!!”

JOHNSON: “My GOOD- MY GOD, IS IT EVER?! Riddle’s asking Whitby if it was two or three!?”

VASSA: “Whatever it was in reality, time may tell, but tonight, Whitby had TWO!”

Gnashing his teeth and snorting almost at once, Riddle expresses his frustration- typically, he doesn’t disrespect his opponent to such a level, and god damn, if he does, it fuckin’ works! Not tonight! Cyrus heaves Jair to his feet, still expressing difficulty breathing, or so it seems. Lifting the aerial technician into the air, Hopkins finds a way to maneuver his way out, finagling his way over Riddle’s shoulder before he lands behind The Archetype. The first thing noticeable about Hopkins? Flaring nostrils and every other indication of VIOLENT, RIGHTEOUS ANGER! Almost as soon as his feet hit the mat, Hopkins takes his revenge, launching forward with ALL of his might!

Knocking Cyrus senseless, Jair threw a HARD, VICIOUS RIGHT LARIAT into the back of Riddle’s head!

Daydreamer for some Bread ‘N Butter.

VASSA: i”DAYDREAMER! DAYDREAMER!!”

JOHNSON: “DAYDREAMER! RIDDLE GETS A TASTE OF HIS OWN MEDICINE!”

Riddle crumbles to the mat and the 4CW fans are going BALLISTIC!!! Hopkins only paid a moment of attention to the nature of his fallen, perhaps new nemesis. His feet took off toward the ropes, but his smirk of justification remained prevalent on his face. In a flash, Hopkins feet bounce from the middle rope, which send him flipping backward rapidly, landing him in the dead, square center of Riddle’s lower back, a source of pain inflicted by Hopkins early in the evening. Vassa can call it best.

VASSA: “OH MY FUCKING GOD!! HOPKINS JUST HIT THE OMFG! AFTER A DAYDREAMER! WHAT THE FUCK!? HOOOOO-LLLLLL-Y SHIT!!!”

JOHNSON: “WILL IT BE ENOUGH, VINNY?! HOPKINS IS EXHAUSTING THE REMAINDER OF HIS ENERGY, JUST ROLLING RIDDLE ONTO HIS BACK!!!”

Riddle finally finds his back via Hopkins’ push. Movement is limited to non-existent from the Archetype, but when his back hits the mat, an extremely audible moan of pain could be heard. Hopkins hooks the leg!

ONE!

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TWO

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THREE!!!

DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!

HEADLINE
XTV CHAMPIONSHIP
EXTREME RULES
TRIPLE THREAT MATCH
BRONX VALESCENCE VS. LORD RAAB VS. JASON CASHE ©

VASSA: “It’s time to get messy!”

JOHNSON: “You said it Vinny and boy do we have a floor full of weapons here at ringside.”

VASSA: “We have the normal chairs, kendo sticks, barbed wire, and tables. But what I want to know id what or how is that Christmas tree going to be used?”

JOHNSON: “There are even rolls of Christmas lights scattered all over the place. We are really about to deck the halls!”

VASSA: “I love this time of year!”

JOHNSON: “So coming up next folks we have an XTV Championship match! Bronx Valescence and Lord Raab will challenge the champion, Jason Cashe, in an extreme rules triple threat!”

VASSA: “There is a lot of tension between these three and it’s all going to explode here in the ring! I can’t think of a better place for this to all go down than right here at our two year anniversary event!”

JOHNSON: “This will be the last time either of these gentlemen compete in 4CW for the remainder of the year. Let’s end twenty fifteen with a bang and welcome twenty sixteen with open arms!”

VASSA: “Look at that! We even have the medical staff midway up the ramp, on site and ready to rock and roll if things get out of control.”

JOHNSON: “They’re going to get out of control, I can promise you that. Well, let’s go ahead and get right down to it. Take it away Mike Powers!”

“What You Know About That” by TI hits the speakers!

POWERS: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall and will be for the 4CW Extreme Television Championship!”

Smoke slowly begins to fill the top of the entrance ramp. Out from the back, Bronx Valescence comes out, riding his brand new hoverboard. Looking a bit different, Bronx wears a blue and white luchadore mask, no top with a pair of long blue trunks. Riding in circles at the top stage, Bronx shows off his new wheels for the crowd.

VASSA: “He’s riding the hoverboard! Oh my god that is awesome!”

JOHNSON: “Not only that but he’s dressed a little differently tonight. What’s with the mask?”

VASSA: “This whole event has been one big party! I’m sure he’s just having some fun.”

Bronx then holds up both hands in the air, more importantly, pointing both middle fingers to the ceiling. Balancing himself, he comes to a stop and points to the ring with his fingers resembling a gun before firing them. He then twirls his “guns” before placing them in the imaginary holsters on his hips and then proceeds to ride down the ramp.

POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Eastport, Maine, weighing in at two hundred five pounds and standing six feet tall, BRONX VALESC– … EELLLLLL BIZCHOCCOOOOOO!!!”

Once at ringside, he rides around the entire ring before coming to a stop at the ringside steps. Hopping off his hoverboard, he then leans it against the barricade before climbing up the steps and walking to the center of the apron. Turning around to face the crowd, Bronx then screams at the top of his lungs mimicking Spanish sayings before turning around and grabbing onto the top rope with both hands. He then wipes his feet on the apron before flipping over the top rope and entering the ring. Pacing around the ring, Bronx then walks to the rope and stands on the middle one, surveying the crowd. After looking over the fans for a moment, he then hops down and walks to his corner where he then bounces back and forth, staying loose for the upcoming match.

POWERS: “Up next!”

“Monster” by Skillet plays over the sound system as Lord Raab comes out through the curtain holding a sledge hammer with Henry Losak at his side.

POWERS: “Introducing to the ring from Cologne, Germany, weighing in at two hundred fifty pounds and standing six feet, four inches tall! He is “The Green Disease German Monster”, LORD RRAAAABB!!!”

Raab and Losak stand at the top of the entrance ramp, looking towards the ring, ignoring the fans in attendance. Raab then slowly proceeds towards the ring. Still ignoring the fans, he walks up the ringside steps before entering the ring underneath the top rope. He crouches down in the corner, moving back and forth, rubbing his hands against the sledge hammer in excitement and rolling his neck around. He remains focused with anger in his eyes as he waits for the match to begin as Henry Losak stands at ringside.

POWERS: “And last!”

The arena goes into a brief silence before Jason Cashe comes out from the back with the 4CW XTV Championship around his waist, a black trash bag in one hand full of unknown contents, and a smile on his face as he hears the place give him either jeers and cheers. Depending on the opponent more one than the other but he takes it all in, deeply inhaling the air with his head tilted back and his eyes closed at the edge of where the stage meets the entrance ramp.

POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Houston Texas, weighing in at two hundred thirty pounds and standing six feet tall! He is the 4CW XVT Champion, “The Troubled One”, JASON CCAASSHHEE!!!”

Patting the championship around his waist, he takes two quick puffs from an “Air Joint”, Cashe rips the belt off and throws his arms up above his head holding his championship high. He shows it to those watching at home before slapping the camera away. He begins to head to the ring. A few fans holding out their own titles, Cashe “high fives” his belt to theirs as he makes his way down to ringside. He rounds the corner of the ring and jogs the steel stairs, getting up on the ring apron. He then places the full trash bag full of unknown objects onto the apron.

Dipping through the middle ropes, he enters the ring. Walking to the opposite side, he raises the XTV Championship, leaning against the ropes, he roars out, getting hyped up over the upcoming match.

CASHE: “RRRRAAAAHHH LIGHT THAT SHIT UP!!!”

Dropping down, he puts his back into a nearby corner and awaits the bell.

JOHNSON: “it looks like the whole gang is here!”

VASSA: “Talk about odd entrances! First Bronx rides out here on his hoverboard. Than Raab comes out here with a sledge hammer in hand. Next up, Cashe comes out here not only with the XTV Championship but with a garbage bag full of whatever. I just want to know what’s in the bag.”

JOHNSON: “So do I!”

VASSA: “He has been hanging around an animal farm lately so knowing him, it could be animal poop!”

JOHNSON: “That’s just disgusting but I wouldn’t doubt anything when it comes to Cashe.”

VASSA: “And what the hell is up with Bronx? And who is El Bizchoco?”

JOHNSON: “I don’t know but we’re about to find out here shortly.”

VASSA: “Two weeks ago Raab scored the win over Bronx, El Bizchoco, whatever, with a little assistance from Cashe. Raab has had a target on Cashe’s back for quite some time now. And Bronx, I know he’s looking for revenge after being taken off the top of that cage at Fright Night.”

JOHNSON: “Like you said just a few moments ago, there is definitely A LOT of tension between these three which should make for an exciting match here tonight!”

Taking the XTV Championship from Cashe, the official then walks to the center of the ring and raises it above his head. Turning to each side of the ring, he shows it off for the crowd.

VASSA: “Look out!”

Throwing the sledge hammer to the mat, Raab then takes off and rushes in behind the official. Grabbing onto the championship, Raab rips it away from his hands, knocking him down to the floor. Bronx charges towards Raab but as he does, Raab takes a swing for his head and misses as Bronx ducks underneath.

The official quickly gets back to his feet and then signals for the bell.

DING!!! DING!!!

Hitting Raab from behind, Cashe connects with a hard right to the back of the head. Whipping around in an instant, Raab wildly swings the championship and plants it directly into the side of Cashe’s face, knocking him backwards and down to the mat.

Bronx then leaps into the air and onto Raab’s back, wrapping his arm around Raab’s throat and clinging tightly with his legs. Raab drops the championship to the mat and then reaches back with both hands, grabs Bronx by the head and then lunges his body downward, pulling Bronx off of his back and slamming him back first onto the championship. Back on his feet, Cashe runs at Raab and takes a swing for his head. Leaning backwards, Raab barely dodges the punch and then reaches forward, grabbing Cashe by the back of the head. Pulling Cashe in, Raab the lifts his knee up and drives it into Cashe stomach as he closes in. Raab then drags Cashe across the ring before throwing him forward to the ropes, sending him up and over, crashing down to the floor below.

JOHNSON: “Lord Raab is off to a quick start and has taken both Cashe and Bronx down.”

VASSA: “Not only did he take Cashe down but he threw him to the outside before the match could even take off. Raab is looking furious!”

Turning back around to face the center of the ring, Raab steps into a kick to the stomach from Bronx. With Raab bent over, Bronx then turns to the ropes behind him and takes off towards them. Bouncing off and coming back on the rebound with speed, Bronx leaps into the air just as Raab leans up and plants both feet into his chest, sending him rolling to the mat with a running dropkick. The two then race to get back to their feet, Bronx standing first. Once up, Raab then takes a step towards Bronx but doesn’t get any further as Cashe reaches through the ropes and locks onto his foot with both hands. With Raab trapped with nowhere to go, Bronx then charges towards him and hits Raab in the chops with a spinning heel kick. Cashe then releases Raab’s foot and as he fall backwards, he hits the ropes and then flips over then backwards before falling head first onto the apron.

With Raab laid out on the apron, Cashe then begins to pound him with lefts and rights before transitioning them into gorilla styled fist attacks, swinging downward violently and out of control. He then drags Raab off the apron and throws him down to the floor. Looking up, Cashe’s eyes then widen as Bronx runs towards him, leaps into the air, and flies over the top rope. Coming down with momentum, Bronx stretches his body and collides into Cashe with a diving crossbody, knocking him to the floor as he lands on top of him. Rolling off of Cashe, Bronx stops a few feet away just in front of the steel barricade. With Cashe on the receiving end of that attack, Bronx quickly gets up without a single pain in his body.

JOHNSON: “And now everyone is outside of the ring!”

VASSA: “Things started off in Raab’s favor but quickly turned as Bronx and Cashe somewhat worked together to put the big man down.”

JOHNSON: “I don’t know if you can technically count that as the two working together.”

Back on his feet, Bronx looks over both Cashe and Raab, both laid out on the floor. He then turns his head to the left where the upright Christmas tree grabs his attention. After walking over to it and picking it up, Bronx holds it in both hands before turning back to see Raab slowly climbing to his feet. With Raab down on one knee, Bronx then takes off towards him while lifting the tree above his head.

WHACK!!!

Bronx swings the tree downward across Raab’s back, knocking him face-first to the floor. Bronx then goes berserk and swings again and again with the tree, smacking Raab over the back with it multiple times. Noticing Cashe getting up in the corner of his eye, Bronx turns to him and then jabs it towards Cashe’s stomach. Grabbing it with both hands, Cashe stops the impact and then pulls the tree towards him, as well as Bronx who is on the other end holding it. As Bronx draws near, Cashe releases his grip on the tree and then hits him with a European uppercut as he walks into it. Staggering backwards, Bronx stays on his feet as the tree falls to the floor. Cashe quickly picks it up and grips it with both hands, holding it horizontally in front of him. He then charges towards Bronx and thrusts it forward, smashing it into Bronx’s face and snapping it in half.

VASSA: “Cashe just snapped the Christmas tree in half over Bronx’s face!”

JOHNSON: “I don’t think Cashe is into the Holiday Spirit that much.”

VASSA: “I can tell you right now, Santa is going to be fucking pissed!”

With both halves of the tree in his hand, Cashe looks down at the with a smile on his face. Shaking his head, he then throws them to the floor but as he does, his eyes then light up as his facial expression completely changes.

JOHNSON: “You forgot about Raab!”

Grabbing a handful of Cashe’s hair, Raab jerks his head back and then drives his other arm forward, planting his elbow into the back of Cashe’s head. He then turns Cashe around and throws him head first into the steel barricade just a few feet away.

THUNK!!!

With both Bronx and Cashe down, Raab then scans the floor area. Walking to the adjacent side, Raab spots a table not far away. After making his way over to it and picking it up, he then carries it to the other side where Bronx and Cashe are still down. Unfolding the legs, Raab sets the table up and places it a few feet away from the ring. He then turns his attention to Bronx and grabs him by the head. Pulling Bronx up to his feet, Raab then tries to rip the mask away from face, slightly tearing it in one corner of the eye opening. Bronx then fires at Raab with a stiff right, planting his fist into Raab’s jaw. Raab quickly shakes off the punch and then thrusts his head forward, hitting Bronx right between the eyes with a headbutt.

With Bronx in a daze, Raab drags him over beside the table and then goes to slam his head down into it, face first. Just before Bronx eats wood, he quickly plants both hands onto the table and stops his head from slamming into the table. Bronx then jabs his elbow into Raab’s side, breaking the hold he has on his head. Popping up, Bronx then jabs his elbow again, this time hitting Raab in the side of the head with it. Grabbing onto Raab’s head with both hands, Bronx then slams it down, smashing his face onto the top of the table. Bronx then slams it again and again until finally putting Raab in a daze. He then rolls Raab onto the table top and slides back into the ring.

JOHNSON: “I think Bronx might be going for a high risk maneuver here!”

VASSA: “He has Raab laid out on top of the table so this would be a good time to take advantage!”

Standing to his feet, Bronx then turns to the ropes on the opposite side of the ring and takes off towards them. Bouncing off with force, Bronx comes back on the rebound but about half way, Cashe pops up onto the apron.

VASSA: “UH-OHH!!!”

JOHNSON: “I didn’t even see him get up!”

Stopping in his tracks, Bronx yells for Cashe to move out of the way. The two then argue back and forth before Bronx rushes towards Cashe and slams into him chest first. Holding onto the top rope, Cashe stays on his feet and then spits into Bronx’s face. The two then argue before Bronx draws his hand back and slaps Cashe across the cheek. Cashe then retaliates and slaps Bronx across the face. Balling his fist, Bronx then swings for Cashe’s head but as he does, Cashe dips through the middle and top ropes, driving his shoulder into Bronx’s stomach as he gets close. Cashe then pops back up and reaches over the top rope, grabbing ahold of Bronx and wrapping his arm around his head.

JOHNSON: “I think Cashe might be going for a suplex here!”

VASSA: “With Raab on the table, this will be awesome!”

JOHNSON: “Raab? Speaking of Raab, where is he?”

The table top is clear and Raab is nowhere to be seen. Cashe struggles with Bronx for a few moments but Bronx won’t let go of the ropes. Popping up out of nowhere, Raab stands tall behind Cashe.

VASSA: “There he is!”

Raab then turns around with his back to Cashe and then reaches up with both arms, wrapping them around Cashe’s stomach. Cashe then punches Bronx in the ribs, forcing him to release his hold of the ropes and as he does, he then grabs onto the back of Bronx’s pants and lifts him up from his feet. Raab then pulls Cashe away from the apron and as he does, Cashe lifts Bronx up and over the top rope. As Bronx’s feet point to the ceiling, the crowd erupts into cheers at the sight of the three men all vertical one on top of the other. Raab then powerbombs Cashe through the table as Cashe drops Bronx’s legs onto the top of the barricade and his back to the floor with a suplex.

CRUNCH!!!

VASSA: “HOLY SHIT!!!”

JOHNSON: “OH MY GOD!!!”

VASSA: “Did that just fucking happen?”

“4-C-W! … 4-C-W! … 4-C-W! … 4-C-W! … 4-C-W!”

JOHNSON: “Yes it did Vinny! While Cashe suplexed Bronx from the apron, Raab also powerbomb Cashe through the table!”

VASSA: “That was fucking unbelievable!”

With Cashe laid out on a pile of broken wood, Raab then crawls on top of him to make the cover. Racing around the corner, the ref then slides into place for the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR–

VASSA: “Holy fuck he kicked out!”

JOHNSON: “How in the world did he just kick out of that!”

Raab then stands to his feet in a rage and begins to chase the official. Turning the corner, the official escapes as Raab comes to a stop at the corner. Raab then turns back to the mess and slowly makes his way over to it. Grabbing Cashe by the head, Raab lifts him up from the debris and places him over his shoulder. Walking around the ring while carrying Cashe, Raab makes his way to a clear area before stopping at the sight of the trash bag that Cashe brought to the ring with him. Raab then drops Cashe to the floor and as he does, Cashe quickly thrusts his head forward and hits Raab with a low blow headbutt.

JOHNSON: “OUCH!!!”

VASSA: “Talk about giving head!”

JOHNSON: “That’s just wrong.”

Raab then drops down to both knees, face to face with Cashe. With Raab in a world of pain, Cashe then extends his arms and swings them together, hitting Raab on each ear with a bell clap. Raab then falls backwards and hits the floor with a thud. Pushing himself up, Cashe looks over to his left as a smile comes to his face. He then digs through the trash bag and pulls out a can of lighter fluid. After placing it onto the apron, Cashe then digs through the bag once more, taking a little longer this time but also giving Raab time to slowly climb back to his feet. Cashe then finally pulls out a book of matches and holds them above his head. Out of nowhere, Raab hits Cashe in the back of the head with an elbow, knocking his face forward and onto the apron. Cashe drops the book of matches to the floor. Grabbing onto Cashe head, Raab then slams his face down into the apron again.

Pulling Cashe away from the ring, Cashe then reaches out and grabs the can of lighter fluid. Holding it up and pointing it back at himself, Cashe then closes his eyes and squeezes. The top shoots off as a stream erupts from the tip, gushing past Cashe’s head and splashing all over Raab’s face. Raab screams and releases his hold as the fluid gets into his eyes. he then begins to rub his eyes with both hands, blinding him from his surroundings. Looking all over the floor, Cashe finally spots the book of matches and picks it up. He then pulls one away from the others and strikes it against the back cover, igniting the tip. Turning around slowly with the lit match in hand, Cashe then flicks it towards Raab’s face and as it touches the soaked mask, Raab’s entire head goes up in flames.

JOHNSON: “RAAB’S ON FIRE!!!”

Raab then runs wildly along the side of the ring.

VASSA: “Holy shit it’s fucking Richard Pryor!”

“Ho-ly Shit! … Ho-ly Shit! … Ho-ly Shit! … Ho-ly Shit! … Ho-ly Shit!”

Making his way to the ringside steps, Raab manages to grabs Bronx’s hoverboard and begins blindly swinging it. Rushing in from the other side of the ring, Bronx avoids a couple of close call hits and then grabs the hoverboard with both hands and rips it away from Raab. Bronx then rolls back into the ring with his hoverboard, removing it from any harm.

EMT’s quickly rush onto the scene and before you know it, a fire extinguisher erupts and sprays Raab’s in the face, putting out the flames. Cashe then rushes in behind Raab and hits him in the back of the head with a stiff striking elbow.

JOHNSON: “The Mark of Jason!”

Raab drops to his knees before falling face first to the floor. Lying on the floor, smoke pours from Raab’s head. Looking down at the damage he had done, Cashe nods and then looks to the ring where his eyes once again grow wide at the surprise coming his way.

VASSA: “Here comes El Bizchoco!”

Leaping from the top of the corner, Bronx flies through the air with the hoverboard in hand. Placing the board under his feet, Bronx does a skaters pose while in mid flight with serious hang time. Coming down with speed, Bronx then kicks both legs straight, thrusting the hoverboard into Cashe’s face and breaking it in half upon impact.

CRACK!!!

JOHNSON: “Jesus Christ, Bronx just destroyed the hoverboard Mr. Wallace gave him earlier!”

VASSA: “Perry did tell him that it could easily be replaced.”

JOHNSON: “Things have gotten insane here at ringside.”

Pieces of the hoverboard fly to the sides of Cashe’s head as he falls to the floor with Bronx crashing on top of him. Bronx then rolls Cashe over to his back and covers him for the pin.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR–

VASSA: “How in the fuck is he still in this?!”

JOHNSON: “His face is charred but he isn’t out of this one!”

Pulling Bronx off of Cashe by the leg, Raab stands over the two as the smoke continues to roll from his head. Zooming in, the camera gets a clear shot of Raab’s face, burnt to a crisp with pieces of the mask melted to his flesh. Raab then lifts Bronx up from the floor in a rage and throws him stomach first onto the top of the barricade.

VASSA: “How the fuck is Raab still in this?!”

JOHNSON: “I don’t know Vinny but his mask appears to be melted to his skin. Green ooze is pouring from the openings. He’s a complete mess.”

Pulling Bronx off of the barricade, Raab then throws him into the ringside steps, knocking them over as Bronx collides into them. Quickly climbing to his feet, Bronx then lunges towards Raab and connects with a right hand, knocking Raab back a few steps. Running forward, Bronx then hits Raab in the chops with a European uppercut, knocking him back even more but not off his feet. With Raab staggering, Bronx then notices a nearby chair and picks it up from the floor. He then tosses it to Raab and as Raab catches it, Bronx runs towards him, steps onto a piece of the ringside steps and leaps into the air. Closing in on Raab, Bronx drives his foot into the chair, smashing it into Raab’s face and knocking him to the floor.

CLUNK!!!

JOHNSON: “These three are going to kill leach other before the night is over.”

VASSA: “I thought that was the point of these matches?”

JOHNSON: “I guess you could say that it is.”

Bronx looks over to Cashe who is finally starting to come to his senses. Using the barricade, Cashe pulls himself up but before he can stand, Bronx rushes over and hits him with a superkick to the side of the head while on one knee. Cashe head jolts to the side and smacks the top of the barricade.

PING!!!

Grabbing Cashe’s head before he falls to the floor completely, Bronx lifts him up and then throws him back first into the ring apron. Releasing a howling scream as the pain shoots through his spine, Cashe holds himself up by extending his arms out and grabbing onto the apron. Bronx then rushes towards him but as he does, Cashe reaches behind his head and grabs the trash bag. He then swings it over his head and smacks Bronx in the face with it, knocking him down to his knees. Digging in the trash bag, Cashe then pulls out the infamous tube sock filled with change. he then begins to swing it in circles above his head and before he takes his shot at Bronx, Raab comes rushing towards him. Cashe quickly notices and releases the sock, slinging it through the air and crashing into Raab’s face.

CHA-CHING!!!

Bursting upon impact, quarters fly through the air as Raab wobbles back and forth before falling like a tree to the floor.

JOHNSON: “Just when you thought things couldn’t get any more violent, Cashe surprises Raab with the Change Up.”

With Bronx down on his knee at his feet, Cashe then grabs onto his head with one hand and then begins to punch him wildly with the other. After receiving a few power punches to the head, Bronx then wraps his arms around Cashe’s waist and lifts him into the air over his shoulder. In slow motion, Bronx then begins to stand to his feet and just as he stands straight up, he flips Cashe over his over and onto Raab, head to head. Bronx then stumbles forward before falling down to the floor out of energy.

VASSA: “I think Bronx used everything he had in the tank to pull that off.”

JOHNSON: “It didn’t look easy at all. As a matter of fact, it looked as if it was in slow motion.”

VASSA: “Wait a second!”

JOHNSON: “This can’t be!”

As Cashe rolls off of Raab, his arm remains draped over his chest. With Bronx out of it only a few feet away, the ref drops down for the count.

ONE

Hearing the count, Bronx leans up and turns around quickly.

TWO

Crawling over towards Cashe and Raab, Bronx then reaches out for Cashe’s arm. Stretching as far as he can, Bronx finally lays his hand across Cashe’s forearm but it’s too late for him to pull it away as the official’s hand hits the floor one final time.

THREE!!!

VASSA: “OOHHHH HE’S TOO LATE!!!”

JOHNSON: “Cashe wins it, he retains the XTV Championship!”

VASSA: “Bronx was so close to breaking up the pin!”

The official then signals for the bell before helping Cashe up to his feet.

DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!

Looking on in disappointment, Bronx leans back and rests against the apron, angered at the outcome.

JOHNSON: “He was ssoooo close! If only Bronx had another second!”

VASSA: “This is only going to add more fuel to the fire, and by fire I mean Bronx’s quest for revenge on Cashe for taking him off the top of that cage.”

JOHNSON: “Technically Cashe pinned Raab in this matchup so we could very well see him and Bronx one on one in the near future. Winter Wasteland is just around the corner.”

A member of the ringside crew hands the official the championship. He then turns to Cashe and hands it to him before raising his arm into the air.

POWERS: “Here is your winner and still 4CW Extreme Television Champion, JASON CCAASSHHEE!!!”

Cashe holds the championship above his head before quickly lowering it and falling forward. Catching himself on the barricade, Cashe looks back at Bronx as the two lock eyes.

VASSA: “I can feel the tension again! It’s a Mexican standoff!”

JOHNSON: “These two can not possibly have anything left to go at it again. They literally beat the life out of one another.”

VASSA: “We’ve seen fire, we’ve seen hoverboards, hell, we even saw a powerbomb-suplex combination through a table… This was one hell of a match!”

JOHNSON: “I have a feeling that this isn’t over by a longshot!”

Walking away from the ring, Cashe slowly makes his way up the entrance ramp, limping but victorious. Back at ringside, Bronx finally pushes himself up before walking over Raab’s laid out body. He stares down at him for a few moments before mouthing a few words.

JOHNSON: “We have a mess to clean up folks. We’ll be right back with our main event in just a few moments.”

The video feed lights up immediately, following the triple threat match. While normally these things would be taped and then aired, it looks as if this is actually being streamed live. The camera pans just outside of a tall building in LA and the business looks very much recognizable. However, the camera cuts away from the building as we hear footsteps but can’t see who exactly is walking. Before long, we are brought into an alleyway, which didn’t support much in the way of light, before the footsteps all of a sudden stop. The camera actually fades to black briefly before an outside shot of the Milwaukee Panther Arena is shown. Suddenly, the camera is turned and we see a man standing in the shadows and his identity is unknown.

MAN:“What you just saw was a place that used to hold all that was dear to me. My circumstances have changed since the last time I was seen in 4CW and things have only taken a deeper, darker path for me. However, the darkness is something that I have embraced. It is no lie, I stand just right outside of the Panther Arena right here in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.”

The man sighs as we can see him shake his head as he embraces what was once truly his. The representation of everything that was filled with light and promise in his life appeared to be taken away from him. Now, he holds a powerful message for those within the Panther Arena.

MAN:“I showed that for a reason, you know. I normally am a private man, but I felt it was necessary to show you all that I’m prepared to do anything after what I lost. I stand here, just right across the street from Adrenaline and I am simply biding my time. I am scooping out everything that is happening in 4CW and I am waiting for my time to strike. I do want to address one thing.”

The man let’s out a small, sinister laugh before he continues his cold, mysterious message.

MAN:“I just witnessed an excellent triple threat match and the one man who is holding the XTV Championship, the very man who makes the UNSTABLE look exactly that…..JASON CASHE.

The man pauses for a bit as he lets the 4CW’s biggest name ring throughout the Panther Arena. The crowd watch on in anticipation for what the man has to say.

MAN:“Do I have your attention NOW, Cashe? Heh, you and I are really not so different. We both have had some involvement with each other what seemed like eons ago. While we may not have had a clash in the ring or backstage, our paths, at least to a lot of people, has been expected to occur sooner or later. I figure you have had a big role with your involvement with the UNSTABLE and I have had my eye on your very group for awhile now. When I was running a muck in 4CW last year, I showed and displayed the very same dominance you did not only then, but are continuing to show now. While I may have been away for a long time now, I have only grown hungrier with each passing day. I have prepared my inevitable return for another big dominance, another big run at another division that I have set my eyes on conquering. Like I have said before, there is one man already in the confines of 4CW who was by my side and shared in the conquering of a division that was beneath us. I helped that man get back to his feet and he became successful because of me. So, what is it this time that has grasped my ever so growing return to 4CW?”

The man pauses once again as he continues to let his ominous, yet cryptic words flow through the Panther Arena. The crowd can be heard trying to attempt to guess at this man’s identity, as the man can be heard laughing at some of their responses.

MAN:“Heh, it’s funny to hear some of your responses, but I assure you all, my identity shall be revealed in time. However, what exactly shall be the nature of my return? I am eyeing bigger and better things in 4CW. There is something within a division that has never been done before and I intend on becoming the first to do so. I have set the standard in all my endeavors and this one will be no different. Seizing control of one division again is merely one of many things on my list of things to do. I have BIG plans upon my return and I say amongst a thousand of witnesses that I am not alone in this plan. What I have orchestrated, what I have planned is simply one of opportunity for others. I have followers, one of which is already within the walls of 4CW. There is another, completely and willing to follow me into the trenches of WAR! If the UNSTABLE think they are the only ones worthy of dominating a company, I say unto them….enjoy it while you can because a new day is dawning and this one has a cult following. The days of the UNSTABLE are numbered, and when I arrive…..I will BURN you ALL to the fucking ground! I hope you deliver this message to your UNSTABLE brethren, Cashe, because if you don’t……..”

The man pauses once again as his cold and calculating message continues to sink in.

MAN:“I will make the example out of YOU! I am coming back, 4CW, and I bring something more unstable than your dominating force does. I am coming…………..SOON!”

The man lets out a sinister and more conniving laugh before slowly turning around and walking away as something falls from the mans trenchcoat. The camera zooms in and reveals a note with three letters that have a slash through them. The three letters are revealed to be NGR. The camera cuts back to the man who seems to have noticed the note fell out of his trenchcoat. The man pulls out a zippo lighter and tosses it behind him as the note lights on fire and completely burns into ashes as the man soon vanishes out of sight as the video slowly fades out.

VASSA: “What the fuck was that?!”

JOHNSON: “I don’t know but someone has their sights set on Cashe and Unstable.”

VASSA: “Who was that?”

Backstage, a limping and blood covered Jason Cashe is approaching his assigned locker room. Hooting echos the hallways and catches Jason’s attention as he stops and turns to see Jett Wilder skipping down the hall coming towards him. Hands in the air, a smile brightly stretched across his face, Jett Wilder hops and lands right in front of Jason Cashe but the XTV Champion doesn’t look happy.

WILDER: ”CASHE!! How’s it going Champ! I’m about to be a Champion too, aren’t you excited!?”

CASHE: ”Sure..thrilled can’t you tell?”

Turning his head away from Jett, Cashe has plans to just walk away but the small Jett Wilder clears his throat as he places a hand on Cashe’s arm to stop him. Cashe looks back at Jett with blood thick in his beard, caked around his eyes from the war he had out there moments ago.

CASHE: ”What do you want Jetthro?”

WILDER: ”You know what I want Jason! You owe me something don’t you? My winnings from that bet we made? You remember right?”

A long sigh as his heads drops, Cashe doesn’t want to be here. He wants to be in a shower, maybe have an ice bath even. He wanted to get high, first smoke of the day and it was well needed after the fight he had been in.

CASHE: ”Are you gonna do it?”

WILDER: ”Oh No! Not me!”

CASHE: ”Then come find me when you find someone to do it…”

Again the XTV Champion tries to turn and head into his locker room. Jett Wilder nods but doesn’t stop Cashe from entering the room. Wilder turns and waves in someone from the side and around from the corner comes Perry Wallace. Following Wallace, the two men enter the locker room of Jason Cashe. Now sighing loudly, Cashe turns around already annoyed with Jett’s presence but the sight of Perry Wallace only turns his annoyance into anger.

CASHE: ”Fuck that! Booshit man! He’s not doing it!!”

WILDER: ”Haha! You said I could pick the kicker! It was either him or Aidan…Would you have preferred her? She’s a girl though and I didn’t want someone who kicks like a girl, not for this!”

CASHE: ”Both of them are terrible picks! Let me give you a rain check alright? This blood is drying and my face hurts..”

WILDER: ”Don’t be like that Jason! You aren’t going back on a bet are you!? Take your loss and drop your shorts!”

Remembering he tweeted he would take the kick to the nuts bare balled, he swallows deep and starts to force down his shorts. His eyes catch a glimpse of Perry Wallace who has a grin on his face as his hands rub together. Cashe points at him, shorts at his knees.

CASHE: ”He’s enjoying this! Motherfucker I will break your damn jaw, quit looking at my oil driller!”

WALLACE: ”HAHAHA! Your “oil driller”?”

WILDER: ”Whoa..he-Hey Perry? Is that a banana in your pocket? Please say it’s a banana…”

All three men stare down at the front of Wallace’s slacks. They are tented out and the 4CW CEO turns a shade of red but hurries to remove the actual banana from his pants pocket. He raises it up to make sure all of them see it and yet he still defends his innocence.

WALLACE: ”It’s a snack! What the fuck? Why would I be turned on other than the excitement I have to kick Cashe where he deserves to be kicked?”

CASHE: ”You’re the one spreading seed with every cheap trick you can pay by the minute for! “

Feeling that the two could argue for hours, Jett Wilder jumps up in place, almost a fit throwing jump as he declares for Cashe and Wallace both to listen up.

WILDER: ”HEY! Can we PLEASE just get this over with? I do have a Title to win here tonight!! Are you ready Wallace?”

CASHE: ”FUCK if he’s ready, it’s my nuts on the line here! Give me a minute..”

Turning away from the two with interest to see his balls kicked, Cashe bends forward and begins whispering to…himself. Jett and Wallace look at each other, Wilder shrugging not fully understanding what Cashe is even doing. Wallace begins to warm up, getting in a stance like a kicker in the NFL ready to make it from 50 yards out with the game on the line. His number was about to be called.

CASHE: ”Fine…come on…Just remember Wallace that Jett won a bet, this is the second time you’ve accepted to be a part of things. You didn’t win shit so this goes on the list!”

Confused, Wallace snaps a glance to Jett and then back to Cashe.

WALLACE: ”The list? What list? Fuck your list!”

CASHE: ”The list of reasons why I’m going to fuck you up and leave you without the money to cover your hospital bill…Come ON! DO IT ALREADY!!”

WALLACE: “I’m rich as fuck you inbred piece of shit!”

Closing his eyes, clinching his fists and breathing deep like he was having a baby, Jason Cashe stood with his shorts down, his cock and balls hanging in the open air. Wallace steps into the motion and his leg swings hard and accurate.

CASHE: ”AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

Turning in at his knees, coming up off his feet and onto his toes, Cashe is kicked hard to his manhood. He drops down to his knees, farts loudly as he lands. His eyes open and Wallace is smiling so Cashe reaches out and sucker punches Wallace to HIS groin, hitting him right in the dick. Now it was Wallace crying out in pain.

WALLACE: ”Ohhhhhhhhhhh my Bawls! WWWHHHYYYYYYYYY!!!”

Laughing so hard he has tears in his eyes, Jett Wilder holds his chest as he can’t stop laughing at the sight of what has occurred. Wallace falls onto his side as he holds his private parts. Cashe leans back against the wall and sits on the waxed floors naked from the waist down as his wrestling shorts sit down around his ankles. Both still in agony.

WILDER: ”This was SO worth the risk of gambling! Haha! Man of your word Cashe! Ha! A man of your word!!”

Leaving the locker room, Jett Wilder knows he is about to go out and perform. He doesn’t wait for Wallace but the CEO begins to drag himself towards the door to leave. He stops at a folding chair and begins to pull himself to his feet with the help of the two individuals who came with him. Cashe remains seated, one hand holding his junk.

CASHE: ”Hey you fuck! This isn’t over…This is the fun and games being played but soon? No more games Wallace…”

WALLACE: ”I’ve got security, I’ve got children…I’m not scared of you or that band of thugs you run with! All of you can eat a bag of dicks! I hope your nuts ruptured. Fuck with me!”

Moving out of the locker room, Wallace leaves the scene.

WALLACE: “Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here! I have to go out to the ring and reveal this beauty of a championship! Fuck you Cashe!”

Cashe reaches over and grabs a bottle of water that is almost at room temperature but he holds it down against his groin anyway.

CASHE: ”My dick is showing in a room of guys and still he gays the shit up just being here…He’ll get his soon enough..ughh…Fucker got me good..”

VASSA: “HA… HA… HA!!! That was fucking classic!”

JOHNSON: “You figured one of these days maybe Cashe will stop making bets because I don’t recall him ever winning a single one.”

VASSA: “If I’m not mistaken, I think Wallace said he was going to be coming out here?”

JOHNSON: “He did, Vinny. We’ve been hearing talks of a new redesigned 4CW Pride Championship being revealed and I would assume he’s going to be doing that before the match.”

VASSA: “Well speak of the devil, there he is!”

Walking out to a wave of mixed reactions from the fans, Perry Wallace stands at the top of the ramp. Not far behind him, the same four individuals who have been seen with Wallace all night walk out from the back. One of the men has a black duffle bag in hand. Wallace looks over the arena and then back at security before making his way down the aisle. The four men follow behind as Wallace walks with confidence. Stopping half way down the ramp, Wallace looks back and points to the entrance.

VASSA: “What the hell is he pointing at?”

JOHNSON: “More backup!”

Out from the back, half a dozen members of the event security step out onto the entrance ramp. Standing side by side, they block the entrance. Wallace nods his head with a smile on his face before turning around and heading towards the ring. Once at ringside, Wallace takes the duffle bag and slides it into the ring. He then climbs the ringside steps before entering through the ropes. On the outside, the four members of his personal security team spread out, one walking to a corner of the ring and standing guard.

Walking around the ring, Wallace looks over the crowd, a little surprised as there are more cheers than normal, could be due to him being attacked by Unstable just two weeks earlier. He then picks the duffle bag up and walks to the center of the ring before dropping it at his feet. Reaching into his jacket pocket, Wallace pulls out a microphone and fidgets with it for a moment, turning it on. He then raises it slowly to his lips and to his surprise, the crowd doesn’t burst into boos as he does so. With a shocked look on his face, Wallace then clears his throat before speaking into the microphone.

WALLACE: “Well hello Milwaukee!”

The crowd erupts into cheers at the greeting of Wallace. Still shocked by their reaction, he pinches himself, checking to make sure he is awake.

WALLACE: “Excellent, I’m awake and this isn’t a dream! We’ve had one hell of a night so far and with one more match on the card, I wanted to come out here personally and thank each and every one of you for making these two years fantastic!”

The crowd cheers once more, louder than before.

WALLACE: “It has been a long journey to get where we are today and I can promise you, we’re not even close to where I vision this company being in the future. We couldn’t have made it this far without you all. Thank you.”

Wallace then lowers the mic for a moment and rubs his stomach, clearly showing signs of pain from the low blow just moments before coming out here.

WALLACE: “First thing is first! I want to address the disappearance of our 4CW Champion, Dakota Smith. I have my suspicions as I’m sure you all do. Right here, right now, I am offering a twenty five thousand dollar reward to anyone who knows the whereabouts of Dakota. That’s right, you hear correct. Twenty five thousand dollars to anyone who can help find Dakota Smith, the 4CW Champion.”

“Now I know a lot of you are probably thinking to yourselves. What if Dakota never comes back? What if Dakota is gone forever? As crazy as The Butcher himself may be, I don’t want to assume the worst. It isn’t an easy task to make him disappear for good so I wouldn’t hold my breath on him being gone forever if I were you.”

“But there are rules in place and they must be followed. To be a champion in 4CW one must defend the championship when duty calls. Winter Wasteland is just around the corner. We have the rest of tonight and one more Adrenaline before we head to Los Angeles and tear the fucking city apart! If Dakota does not contact me by then, unfortunately, I will be forced to vacate the championship.”

The crowd expresses their feelings with boos as those words roll off of Wallace’s tongue.

VASSA: “Vacate the 4CW Championship?”

JOHNSON: “Calm down Vinny, Dakota has until Winter Wasteland to emerge from where ever he is.”

VASSA: “This has Unstable written all over it!”

JOHNSON: “Let’s not forget that Aidan Carlisle and even Mr. Wallace himself are suspects and have reason to be involved.”

VASSA: “So now you’re on board with that theory?”

Thinking to himself, Wallace stands in silence, reading the crowd and what to say next.

WALLACE: “Vacating a championship is the LAST thing I want to do. But unfortunately, my hands are tied thanks to the actions of others. Each and every championship must be defended in order to be held. I don’t know what will follow if this were to happen, but I will have an answer for you all come Winter Wasteland.

“So we’ll worry about that when the time comes. I know, I know, it’s a shitty situation but look, I have a surprise for you all! But before I get to that surprise, I would like to make another announcement.”

JOHNSON: “Another announcement?”

VASSA: “That’s what he said.”

Pacing around the ring, Wallace thinks to himself for a brief moment. He then raises the mic back to his lips while continuing to pace the ring.

WALLACE: “I promise you all, this will not take long. I know I’m holding up the show so I will hurry up and get this out of the way, leaving a message for all of those in the back. Two weeks ago the Tag Team Champions, Aidan Carlisle and Bryan Williams, took it upon themselves to take out the competition that was lined up for them to face at Winter Wasteland. Bitch TV had come onto the scene and impressed us in their short tenure, securing a chance to challenge for the Tag Straps at the upcoming super-card. Well, two certain individuals decided that they would eliminate said competition.”

“So, who the hell is going to challenge the champs at Winter Wasteland?”

Right here, right now, I am issuing an open challenge to any two people in the back willing to team together and step into the ring with the Tag Team Champions at Winter Wasteland. I don’t care who you are. I don’t care if you have teamed with the person you choose as your partner. I need a team, two bodies, to climb into the ring and challenge the champs. IS THERE ANYONE OUT THERE WHO WILL STEP TO THE PLATE AND CHALLENGE THE 4CW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS?”

“I don’t care if you’ve just signed with 4CW. I don’t care if you sign after hearing this open challenge. I just want some fucking challengers for the champs. So, you have two weeks to accept the challenge. I need two people by the end of the next Adrenaline or I’ll take it upon myself to pair up two random people. I know there has to be someone out there, well two people who will cease this opportunity and make the most out of it.”

“Now, let me get back to the main reason I’m out here interrupting the show.”

Wallace then walks to the center of the ring and reaches down to grab the duffle bag, lifting it up and holding it by his side.

WALLACE: “So while I was forced to have a new Extreme Championship made a few weeks ago, I got a little happy watching the process. I said hey, why stop with the new XTV Championship? So, in honor of this special event, our two year anniversary show, I have a surprise for you all and the winner of our next match, the main event!”

The crowd then bursts into cheers as Wallace begins to unzip the duffle bag and reaching his hand inside.

WALLACE: “In honor of our two year anniversary, I present to you all… the newly redesigned… 4CW Pride Championship!”

Wallace then pulls the new championship out of the duffle bag and holds it above his head with both hands.

VASSA: “Well look at that beauty!”

JOHNSON: “Mr. Wallace has really outdone himself with that new Pride Championship!”

After turning to each side of the ring and putting the belt on display for everyone in the crowd, Wallace then walks to the edge of the ring and hands it to a member of the ringside crew, who then walks to the announcers booth and places it on top.

WALLACE: “It’s been one hell of a ride ladies and gentlemen and I thank you all! I know I’ve held the show up long enough so I’ll go ahead and cut this short so we can get to our main event. You all have been a very important part to our success and I cannot express my gratitude with words. I know at times I may be an asshole in the ring but deep down, I truly appreciate everything you all have done for us. That goes for you all in the back, except for you Unstable fucks! So Merry Christmas everyone and Happy New Year!”

Wallace then turns the microphone off before placing it into his pocket. Looking over the crowd, he enjoys the view with a wide smile on his face. he then climbs through the ropes and exits the ring as the scene slowly changes.

MAIN EVENT
PRIDE CHAMPIONSHIP
JETT WILDER VS. JOHN AUSTIN ©

JOHNSON: “We’re back folks and up next we have our main event of the evening!”

VASSA: “We already had one title match tonight and damn if it wasn’t one hell of a fucking match! Now we move on to a different playing field where things aren’t as extreme and violent.”

JOHNSON: “Up next we have Jett Wilder challenging John Austin for the 4CW Pride Championship!”

VASSA: “This is primed and ready to be a great match and could very well find it’s way into the voting for match of the year knowing what these two bring to the table.”

JOHNSON: “John Austin found himself in a triple threat match with Seamus O’Connor and champion at the time, Brennan Devlin. Things didn’t quite work out in his favor due to some outside interference which led to Seamus winning the championship.”

VASSA: “They surely didn’t go in his favor but weeks later he was given a rematch with Seamus where he then conquered on his own, winning his first championship in 4CW at Fright Night.”

JOHNSON: “I was hoping to see another rematch between the two but Drew Stevenson then decided to take it upon himself and injure Seamus, putting him on the sideline with a leg injury.”

VASSA: “Drew Stevenson is a real piece of shit, but like him or hate him, he brings a challenge to the ring with whoever stands across from him.”

JOHNSON: “After putting Seamus on the shelf, he found himself in the mix for the Pride Championship. But lets not forget, Jett also found himself in the mix by scoring a win over John before he became the Pride Champion.”

VASSA: “Surprisingly Jett Wilder scored himself a contender match with Drew Stevenson. I definitely didn’t see Jett being in a title match so soon after returning but he surprised the world when he outsmarted Drew and earned the spot.”

JOHNSON: “Jett has really impressed in singles competition since returning to 4CW. All the hard work finally seems to be paying off as he’ll have his one on one match for the championship.”

VASSA: “Hard work? Are you kidding me? I know you don’t consider video games and junk food hard work, I don’t even consider those two things work and I’m a fan of both!”

JOHNSON: “He’s found himself in a match for the Pride Championship so he’s clearly doing something right.”

VASSA: “If you say so…”

JOHNSON: “I just did say so. This isn’t going to be an easy contest for him, or John for that matter.”

VASSA: “Well I guess there’s only one way for us to find out, right?”

JOHNSON: “That would be correct.”

VASSA: “Well let’s get on with it!”

The lights go dark as the beginning of “Blessings” by Big Sean hits the fans more then likely unhappy to hear the music playing.

POWERS: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall and will be for the 4CW Pride Championship!”

Out from the back dancing and wilding out is Jett Wilder followed not far by the imposing Luiz Cavalcante and the beautiful Carmella Wilder. Though generally the young and small Wilder alone would not be imposing with his atrocious dance moves we get a close up of the imposing Luiz walking to the ring to really strike some form of fear. Clapping her son on is Carmella with her glasses on looking professional as she usually does, as Wilder bounces up the steps stopping.

POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Los Angeles, California accompanied to the ring by Carmella Wilder and Luiz Cavalcante, weighing in at one hundred and forty five pounds and standing five feet, eight inches tall, JETT WWIILLDDEERR!!!”

Waiting for Luiz who as usual doesn’t look pleased to have to stop and lower the top rope down so that Wilder can jump over it to show off. Shaking his head as he follows him into the ring as Jett jumps up to the top rope pounding his chest as the crowd boos him. Carmella walks around the ring ignoring the cat calls and the boos to continue to cheer her son on as Jett bounces off the ropes and heads to the other side with Luiz standing behind him arms crossed. Finally bouncing back down taking off the hoodie he came out with to hand to Luiz who walks to the ropes to hand it out to Carmella as Jett readies himself.

POWERS: “And the opponent!”

“Woo mercy momma”

Jimmy Valiant’s voice can be heard echoing through the arena as “Rocker and Roller” begins to play. John comes strutting out like the man he thinks he is with the 4CW Pride Championship around his waist. John turns around and shows of the back of his ring vest as the announcer does his introduction.

POWERS: “Coming to the ring Raleigh, North Carolina, weighing in at two hundred fifty pounds and standing six feet, four inches tall! He is “The Magic Man” and the 4CW Pride Champion Champion, JOHN AAUUSSTTIINN!!!”

John continues to walk down to the ring with the swagger he was born with. John gets to the ring and takes off his vest. He folds it up before placing it down and slides into the ring. He starts to run the ropes as he awaits for the match to begin.

VASSA: “Jett is here. John is here. The newly redesigned Pride Championship is here, along with the old one that John brought with him tonight. It looks we have all the pieces for a good old fashioned rasslin’ match!”

JOHNSON: “Just look at it, Vinny. I’m glad Mr. Wallace left it here at ringside, more so right here at the booth with us to admire during this match.”

VASSA: “It was awful nice of him, wasn’t it? He’s been in the gift giving mood tonight. Maybe the recent shot to the head has change him, made him a better person.”

JOHNSON: “Why do you say that?”

VASSA: “First he gave Bronx a hover board for an early Christmas present, which was then used to smash over Cashe’s head. Then he came out here and presented 4CW with a newly redesigned Pride Championship that is nothing less than beautiful. It’s like Scrooge after he was visited by those creepy ghosts.”

JOHNSON: “I wouldn’t go that far, Vinny. He gave Bronx a gift, the person he claims is his son. We’ve known a new championship belt design was going to be revealed tonight for some time. This isn’t a surprise.”

VASSA: “I guess you’re right. I sure as shit didn’t get a Christmas bonus.”

JOHNSON: “What are you talking about? Yes we did…”

VASSA: “I didn’t. Did you?”

JOHNSON: “Oh look! The official is ready to get things underway!”

The official walks to the edge of the ring and calls for a member of the ringside crew to bring him the newly redesigned Pride Championship. After receiving it, he then walks over to Austin and takes the old Pride Championship. Walking to the center of the ring, the official then raises both championship above his head, turning to each side of the ring to put them on display for the crowd. He then walks back to the edge of the ring and hands both championships to the same member of the ringside crew before back stepping to the center of the ring. Looking over to Jett, the official gets a nervous nod and then turns to Austin who smirks and points right back, signaling that he’s ready to begin the match. Slowly raising his hand into the air, the official then swings it downward, signaling for the bell.

DING!!! DING!!!

Stepping out of his corner with confidence, Austin makes his way to the center of the ring, eyes locked on Jett who is still in his corner. Looking around the ring for a moment, Jett then looks to the outside at Carmella and Luiz, who both encourage him. Jett then puffs his chest before stepping out of the corner. He slowly makes his way towards Austin, cautious with each step. As the two stand toe to toe, Austin looks down at Jett, clearly with the height advantage, looking him in the eyes. The two stand in silence, sizing one another up before Austin takes a step back and gets into stance. Jett looks at him for a moment, unsure of what to do before slowly raising his hands up and getting into stance himself.

The two then slowly begin to circle each other, both cautious to make the first move and rather waiting for the other to strike. After making a full revolution, Austin shoots in and wraps his arms around Jett’s leg, lifting him into the air and slamming him to the canvas with a single leg takedown. Austin then climbs on top of Jett but before he can mount himself with Jett secured underneath, Jett throws a hard right, connecting with the side of Austin’s head. Jett then reaches up with both hands and grabs Austin by the shoulders before throwing him over to the side and freeing himself.

The two then race to their feet, Jett standing first. Jett then rushes in with a series of lefts and rights, hitting Austin by surprise, backing him across the ring and against the ropes. Jett then kicks Austin in the stomach, knocking his breath away. Locking onto Austin’s wrist, Jett then whips him to the ropes across the ring and quickly moves to the center of the ring, waiting for Austin’s return. After coming back on the rebound, Austin runs into Jett’s clutches, being lifted up from his feet, spun around and dropped across Jett’s knee with a titl-a-whirl backbreaker.

JOHNSON: “Jett is off to a good start with that tilt-a-whirl backbreaker!”

VASSA: “For a second there I thought John was going to take control at the beginning of the match, but Jett just wasn’t going to let that happen.”

JOHNSON: “These two aren’t strangers. They’ve met once in the past and Jett was able to secure the win. He has the upper-hand on John but knowing the champ, he’s prepared for this rematch, especially considering the championship is on the line.”

Standing back to his feet, Jett then reaches down and grabs Austin by the head. He then slowly rolls him over before pulling him back up as well. Out of nowhere, Austin wraps his arms around Jett’s waist and lifts him up into the air. Jett quickly wraps one arm around Austin’s head and applies a variation of a headlock while swinging with his other hand, connecting with punches to the back of Austin’s neck. Austin ignores the blows to his neck and walks around the ring with Jett held over his shoulder. After making their way to the edge of the ring, Jett feels his feet brush against the ropes. He then curls his legs and kicks them straight, pressing them against the ropes and pushing away. As Austin back steps, Jett then turns his body and Austin’s, before breaking loose and spinning down to the mat, planting Austin’s head into the canvas with a tornado DDT.

JOHNSON: “Jett has become more familiar with his surroundings!”

VASSA: “What the hell are you talking about now?!”

JOHNSON: “With his back turned to the ropes, Jett knew where he was when the ropes touched his legs.”

VASSA: “That really doesn’t say much. He felt the ropes. A blind man would have know where he was, not to mention, Jett could see everything else so it wasn’t hard for him to figure out where he was.”

JOHNSON: “What’s wrong with you?”

VASSA: “Nothing Captain Obvious, just pointing out how dumb you sound right now.”

Jett then rolls Austin over to his back and crawls on top of him, making the cover. Racing from the other side of the ring, the ref slides in for the count.

ONE

.

.

TW–

Austin kicks out before the ref can even finish the two count. Looking up at the ref, Jett across Austin’s body at him before standing to his feet. Pleading his case, Jett argues with the official, insinuating a slow count but the ref stands his ground and more importantly, stands behind his ruling.

VASSA: “What are you doing Jett?!”

JOHNSON: “He doesn’t look pleased with the officials count.”

VASSA: “Tell us something that we don’t already know Steve!”

Jett then turns back to Austin who is slowly beginning to climb to his feet. Grabbing onto his head, Jett helps Austin up. Joking around, Jett slaps Austin across the back of the head, toying with him. He then tilts Austin’s head back but as he does, Austin reaches across with both hands and drives his thumbs into Jett’s eyes, out of the refs view as Jett stands between the two. Austin the kicks Jett in the stomach and wraps his arm around his head, applying a side headlock. Pulling Jett’s body in closer, Austin then twists his, lifting Jett off his feet and flipping him over his body and down to his back. With the headlock still in tact, Austin then unloads with a series of punches with his free hand to the top of Jett’s head. After connecting with nearly a dozen, Austin then releases the headlock and pushes himself up to his feet.

JOHNSON: “And just like that, the tables have turned and John is in control!”

After getting back to his feet, Austin latches onto Jett’s wrist and pulls him up from the mat. He then throws him to the ropes across the ring and as he comes back on the rebound, Austin lifts Jett into the air, spins around and drives him into the canvas with a spinning spinebuster. Popping back to his feet in excitement, Austin yells into the air as he paces around the ring. He then turns to the corner and quickly races over to it. Ascending to the top, Austin then looks over the crowd for a moment before turning his attention back to Jett, who is down in the center of the ring on his back.

VASSA: “John is looking to take things vertical!”

JOHNSON: “He has Jett right where he wants him!”

VASSA: “Lift off!”

Austin then leaps into the air, high above the ring, and as he comes down, he drives an elbow into Jett’s chest, connecting with the elbow drop.

JOHNSON: “Hail to the king Baby!”

VASSA: “DDAAAAAAAAMMNN!!!”

After landing the big move, Austin then covers Jett and hooks the leg as the ref slides in for the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR–

JOHNSON: “NNOOOO!!!”

VASSA: “Jett kicked out!”

Looking up at the official in disgust, Austin shakes his head in anger before lashing out and screaming at him. He then pushes himself up from Jett and delivers a stinging kick to the ribs. Still not satisfied, Austin then kicks Jett again and again in the ribs with anger. He then reaches down and grabs ahold of Jett’s head before pulling him up to his feet. With Jett leaning over and favoring his side, Austin the delivers a kick to his ribs on the opposite side. Jett then leans over to favor them but as he does, Austin hits him in the chops and follows up with a series of knife edge chops to the chest. With each landing chop, Austin backs Jett across the ring and into the corner, trapping him and leaving him with nowhere to escape. Austin then swings forward with all of his might, connecting with a crushing right hand to the chest, knocking Jett against the turnbuckle.

As Jett bounces off the turnbuckle and stumbles forward, Austin side steps him and positions himself behind Jett. After wrapping his arms around Jett’s waist, Austin drives his legs, pushing Jett forward and towards the center of the ring. He then lifts Jett up from his feet and slams him to the mat with a German suplex. With his hands still locked and arms around Jett’s waist, Austin slowly climbs back to his feet, pulling Jett up as well. He then lifts Jett up again and drives him into the mat with another German suplex. As the ring slowly stops shaking, Austin then slowly works his way back up again, arms still wrapped around Jett and pulling him up for a second time.

VASSA: “I think John is going for that triple German suplex combination he likes to use so much.”

JOHNSON: “That would be the Tres Diablos and I believe you hit the nail right on the head, Vinny!”

Austin then lifts Jett up for a third time and goes for yet another German Suplex but this time he releases Jett and as he does, Jett rolls out of the hold and lands on his feet with Austin falling to the canvas in front of him. Stumbling backwards, Jett hits the ropes and bounces off with Austin quickly racing to his feet. As Jett closes it, he leaps into the air and wraps his arm around Austin’s head, who has his back turned to him, and drives his face into the mat with a bulldog.

VASSA: “Oh shit, Jett countered!”

JOHNSON: “He slipped right out of that third German suplex and quickly turned it into a bulldog!”

Jett quickly pops back up to his feet and then takes off to the ropes while Austin gets back to his. Hitting the ropes hard and bouncing off with force, Jett charges towards Austin and then leaps into the air, planting both feet into Austin’s chest as he stands up, knocking him back down to the mat with a dropkick. Jett then pushes himself up in a hurry before looking to his left and locking his sights on the nearby corner. Rushing over to it, Jett climbs to the top and patiently waits as Austin slowly gets back up. After finally standing to his feet, Austin turns around to face Jett who is already flying through the air towards him.

JOHNSON: “Jett’s going for a crossbody!”

VASSA: “Watch out John!”

Jett connects with a crossbody and as Austin falls backwards to the mat, Jett falls on top of him. With John down underneath, Jett quickly hooks the leg as the ref rushes over for the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR–

At the last possible moment, Austin kicks out of the pin. Looking up in shock, Jett can’t believe Austin just kicked out. Instead of arguing with the ref, Jett pushes himself up and keeps his attention locked on Austin.

JOHNSON: “I can’t believe John just kicked out of the Jett Plane.”

VASSA: “Believe it or not, that just happened!”

Keeping his cool, Jett doesn’t argue with the ref but instead he locks onto Austin with both hands and pulls him back to his feet. With Austin barely able to stand on his own, Jett lifts him up from his feet and throws him back down to his back with a scoop slam. Looking to the corner once more, Jet races over and decides to ascend for a second time. Once at the top, he looks over the crowd and at that moment, his ego gets the best of him as he begins to taunt from the top, looking down at Austin and even playing to the crowd.

JOHNSON: “He’s wasting precious time!”

VASSA: “He’s being an entertainer! He has to make sure the crowd is staying locked in on the action and not getting bored.”

JOHNSON: “We’ve seen this time and time again. He’s going to end up giving John more than enough time to get back to his feet.”

Down on the floor, Carmella screams at Jett, grabbing his attention for a brief moment and telling him to keep his mind on the task. Jett shrugs it off and then leaps into the air as high as he can and as he comes down, he connects with a frog splash.

JOHNSON: “The Swag Splash!”

VASSA: “He connected!”

Jett then hooks Austin’s leg as the official moves in beside the two with the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

VASSA: “Jett’s done it! Jett has won the Pride Championship!”

JOHNSON: “We have a new champion ladies and gentlemen!”

“Blessings” hits the speakers as Jett quickly pops up to his feet in excitement. Sliding into the ring, Carmella and Luiz quickly come over to congratulate him in his moment of glory. After the three celebrate for a few moments, the official steps in between Jett and the other two, handing him the newly redesigned Pride Championship and then raising his arm into the air.

DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!

POWERS: “Here is your winner and new 4CW Pride Champion, JETT WWIILLDDEERR!!!”

Jett rips his arm away from the official and holds the championship with both hands, looking down at the new shiny faceplate with his eyes wide open. Jett then hands the championship to Luiz before pointing at his waist and turning around. Carmella and Luiz then place the championship around him, fastening it securely. Jett then turns around and the three hug in excitement.

VASSA: “Well isn’t that cute?”

JOHNSON: “This is a big moment in his life, let him enjoy it with loved ones.”

VASSA: “It’s about time he starts acting more like a man and less like a child. Hopefully that Pride Championship will do him some good and help him mature.”

JOHNSON: “Oh stop it!”

VASSA: “I’m dead fucking serious!”

JOHNSON: “Leave it to you to rain on someone’s parade. Well folks, it’s been one exciting evening from start to finish!”

VASSA: “Did you expect anything less?”

JOHNSON: “As a matter of fact I did not.”

VASSA: “Good! This was a big night for us and more importantly, 4CW! I’m just glad to be here on this special occasion as we celebrated two years and opened the door for many more to come.”

JOHNSON: “It’s been fun and I too am looking forward to many more great years of 4CW action. We’ve seen a lot over the years, the ups and the downs, but more so the ups that outweigh the bad.”

VASSA: “It ain’t all peaches and cream. This is a cut throat business but 4CW has proven to be a staple in the industry.”

JOHNSON: “Well that’s it for tonight folks. Be sure to tune in two weeks from now as we have one more Adrenaline between now and Winter Wasteland.”

VASSA: “Get your act together, Jett! You’ll be defending soon against the likes of Chris Madison.”

JOHNSON: “That’s all the time we have ladies and gents. We’ll see you in two weeks as we kick off twenty thirteen and the third year of 4CW action!”

VASSA: “They say third time’s a charm so I’m expecting this next year to be breath taking from start to finish!”

JOHNSON: “You and me both, Vinny, you and me both. Thanks for joining us this evening and to those of you sitting at home watching, Happy Holidays. I’m Steve Johnson…”

VASSA: “And I’m Vinny Vassa! Merry Christmas!”

Running to the nearby corner, Jett climbs to the top and looks over the crowd, pointing down to the Pride Championship around his waist. With the music blaring in the background, the entire arena rumbles as the fans begin to break into chant.

“4-C-W! … 4-C-W! … 4-C-W! … 4-C-W! … 4-C-W!” Zooming in for a closer view, the camera focuses on Jett before slowly capturing only the Pride Championship in the picture. As the chanting continues in the background, the picture slowly fades to block before the official advertisement for Winter Wasteland appears on the screen to close the show.