---

ADRENALINE E37 JANUARY 6TH, 2016
KEYARENA SEATTLE, WA

The camera cuts to the backstage area, where “The Essence Of Excellence” himself, Victor Cassius, standing with that typical smug, self-assured look on his face. Next to him on the left is Desiree Drake, clad in the most form-fitting dress possible, that cold, self-satisfied look on her face as well. To the right is Charity Skye, eyes lit up with excitement, a wide smile on her face as she’s clearly far too happy to be on Adrenaline this particular evening. Victor rolls his shoulders, loosening up in the waning moments before his debut match as the two beautiful valets surround him.
CASSIUS: “Charity. My robe, if you please..”
Charity continues staring into space a little bit, that fond smile on her face, clearly so enamoured with the television production going on around them that she hasn’t heard him. Desiree rolls her eyes, scoffing as Victor snaps his fingers, drawing Charity’s attention.
CASSIUS: “Charity. Robe. NOW.”
SKYE: “Oh! Right. My bad, Victor. “
With that, Charity moves to grab Cassius’ lavish ring robe, stepping up behind him with as bright a smile as ever as he holds his arms out, letting her put the garment on him before he shrugs it up onto his shoulders. Desiree, for her part, looks beyond annoyed, but Victor merely smirks as he adjusts himself to perfection.
CASSIUS: “Much better.”
That smug look returns to Victor’s face as he finally turns his attention fully to the camera.
CASSIUS: “The wait…is finally over. The time has finally come. Mere moments from now…The landscape in this company, in professional wrestling as whole, changes forever. The very moment I step out of this locker room, and we make our way down that hall…you are all going to bear witness to something the likes of which you’ve never seen. You are going to see true greatness in this sport, in it’s purest, grandest form. What professional wrestling was meant to be all along. What you’ve needed so desperately, without even knowing it. You’ve been bereft, 4CW, and you haven’t even known it. But now…all that changes. Isn’t that right, ladies?”
Desiree looks at Victor for a moment. With her eyes firmly transfixed on her client, she places her hands up against his robe for a moment. Then, she turns her attention over to the camera.
DRAKE: “Victor, you could not have said that any better. Ladies and gentleman, get ready for the experience of a lifetime. The Essence of Excellence will mop the floor with Duff Briggs and Memphis Cunningham. He will etch his place in the minds of every single one of you. Mark my words, Victor Cassius will make the impact that you fans have desperately been clamouring for.”
As Charity steps forward slightly, she looks as if she has something that she wants to say. Before she is able to, Desiree looks at her seemingly unimpressed.
DRAKE: “Don’t you dare speak. “
Victor gives a glance toward Charity, giving her a small smile as he shakes his head no and holds his index finger to her lips, signalling for her to keep quiet and look pretty, which she, of course, happily does, as Victor turns his attentions back to the matter at hand.
CASSIUS: “Charity, doll, stand back and let me remind these plebs of just who exactly I am. I am the greatest wrestling entity you’ve never seen. My blood runs through this business, thicker than any that have come before. Half of you are using the techniques and the styles my family invented. Without Victor Cassius…there is no 4CW. Without Victor Cassius, there is no pro wrestling. And it’s high time, every last one of you shiftless feebs looked on the face of the man who runs this place…who runs this industry. This was all mine, from birth. Everything you have, everything you are, your very essence, belongs to me. I can snatch the life out of every last one of you undeserving motherfuckers on a whim. This is my world, and you all have been given the privilege to live in it, unchecked, for too long. That time is fast coming to an end, however. Tonight, the Spaceman crashes to Earth, and the doughy clown watches as the Briggs legacy gets buried once and for all. Tonight, you all get your first understanding of what life in Victor Cassius’ 4CW is going to be all about. Tonight…I suggest you all pay close attention…And prepare to pay homage, to the man.”
As Desiree looks on with approval, she takes her time to step closer to Victor. As she places her hands on his left shoulder.
DRAKE: “You have been thoroughly educated on this man. Remember this, never bet against the gods, and never bet against Victor Cassius. Charity, do me a favor sweets, why don’t you go make sure the curtain is opened properly for Victor and I?”
The sparkle that was all over Charity’s face has now disappeared. As she takes a moment to just stare at Desiree, she begins to walk away. However, she can be heard from the distance.
SKYE: “What a bitch! ”
As Desiree’s eyes grow wide, she looks directly at Victor clearly infuriated. Victor, for his part, merely shakes his head, holding up a hand to wave it off, the sounds of “Viol” beginning to pour through the arena sound system, echoing even far down the hall. Rolling his shoulders a final time in preparation, Victor turns his attentions to the camera for a final time.
CASSIUS: “Times up, 4CW. I hope you’re ready…Because all that’s left for you to do now is…”
Desiree steps back into the frame now, a teasing smirk on her face.
DRAKE: “Get on your knees…”
CASSIUS: “And worship me.”
With that, the pair disappear down out of the locker room area and toward the gorilla position, as the camera cuts away.

CASHE: “First I limp to the side like my legs is broken!
Shaking and twitching like I was smokin!
Crazy, Whack Funky,
People say you look like MC Hammer on Crack Humpty!
That’s alright cause my body’s in motion
It’s suppose to look like a fit or a convulsion..”
Backstage you see XTV Champion Jason Cashe dancing and singing as he wears Ear buds in each ear. He wasn’t the type to spend a buttload of money on headphones so these were cheap but had good sound. Not afraid of looking like a fool, he isn’t noticing or caring at anyone seeing him dance and he COULDN’T dance!
CASHE: “The Humpty Dance is your Chance to do the Hump! Ugh Sexy Bab-ay! Do the Humpty Hump, do the, do the humpty hum–“
HARTMAN: “Jason!”
Not hearing him, Cashe continues his boogie down in the hallway. Gabriel Hartman looking eager to gain his attention, grabs Cashe by the arm. Flinching, Cashe clinches at his fist and almost rocks Hartman but holds back as he lays eyes on him. Pulling out his earphones, Cashe nods.
CASHE: “What’s up man?”
HARTMAN: “Did you hear? We just signed some “Major” name..”
CASHE: “Oh yeah? The fuck do I care?”
Like it was a secret, Gabriel Hartman looks around suspicious of who may hear him informing Cashe. Leaning in, his voice comes out in a whisper.
HARTMAN: “It’s Kallum, you ever heard of him?”
Cashe’s eyes widen. He knew the name, both as the douche from Galveston Island and the Orangutan but that last one was just blurred video and a rumor but his reaction might give it some truth.
CASHE: “Where’s he at? Show me.”
No hesitation and Gabriel Hartman turns and leads Cashe down the hall and around the corner. Pointing like a Blood Hound, Hartman shows Cashe the locker room where this “Major” name is held up. Cashe passes by Hartman, approaches the door and just walks in.
CASHE: “Cover your nude parts!”
This was Major. A few media reporters were in the room almost surrounding this guy who looked like Jimmy King from “Ready To Rumble” and Cashe seemed star struck as he approaches this “Major” signing. His hand extended, offering a formal introduction.
CASHE: “Wow so it’s true! Wallace actually signed you!? A fucking Legend this guy is!!”
Kallum grabs Cashe’s hand and shakes it ever so firmly.
KALLUM: “Thank You, Thank you very much!”
CASHE: “Like a true king! HIZZAH!! Greatest Rassler of All The Times right here! Heh..How do you do it? I need to pick your brain! How have you managed to gain such fame and fortune in your career?!”
KALLUM: “Well it’s real simple..”
Leaning into Cashe closely, Kallum doesn’t want the “Media” to hear his secret yet audio picks it up clear as day.
KALLUM: “As the old sane goes..Everyone has a price and I pay well for victories!”
Both men begin laughing, still having their hands in a tight shake. Cashe turns looking back at the “Media” who also share the laugh not having heard what Kallum even said. Ripping back towards Kallum, Cashe pulls him in with the shaking hand and cracks Kallum to the mouth with a huge right!
CASHE: “You ain’t shit…Nobody where you came from is shit. Middle finger to all you bitches! You watch tonight Cow-Cum. See what ONCE again happens to a punk bitch who thinks you are anything special. This is him right? This is that rude bitch who Bronx was talking too right? He’s the GOAT of this Sport? Please, I’ve taken DUMPS with more legitimacy than this fool.”
Looking back again to the “Media”, all of them backed away not wanting to get involved. Their hands up already asking for the white flag. Cashe turns back to Kallum as the man, the legend rises from the one punch put down. Grabbing him, Cashe helps him up only to grab him to the back of his head before running him head first into the far wall. Kallum cries out and collapses to the ground unconscious. Bending over, Cashe spits at the downed body of this new signing and turns to the “Media” and the camera.
CASHE: “Bronx..slowly but surely you are becoming my favorite person. Not because you see fucks like this and think they are something they aren’t because the Actor’s Guild might hand him all the awards and achievements but this here isn’t acting. This here might all be staged but that is just to play into what you USE to represent. You have seen since the day you stepped in a ring with me that scripts are never apart of the world I compete in. From the top of a cell to the failed attempt at stopping me in that Triple Threat. Failure has been YOUR fault. Just like this match tonight…
It’s all because of you Bronx..
Losing becomes your trend, your label after tonight. If you come to Winter Wasteland? It might be your last mistake…Clean this bitch up..”
Shoving one of the “Media” guys out of the way, Cashe leaves the room and the scene fades.


As the music slowly comes to an end, the picture opens to a view from the entrance stage overlooking the entire arena. The fans are electric as they stand in anticipation for the show to begin. The roars are off the charts as we head into another night of 4CW Adrenaline, live from the KeyArena in Seattle, Washington. The camera then begins to slowly make its way down the entrance ramp towards the ring. Looking to the right, a fan stands in the front row with a sign held above his head which reads…
DID CASHE LOSE
ANY BETS TONIGHT?
As we get closer to the ring, the camera turns to the left where another fan stands with a sign held above her head which reads…
THE PRIDE CHAMP
IS WHY I’M HERE
Turning the corner at ringside, the camera slowly approaches the announcers booth where both Steve Johnson and Vinny Vassa sit, ready to get things underway. Behind them, the camera focuses in on yet another sign.
JAIR HOPKINS
VERSUS
UNSTABLE
1-0
Coming to a stop in front of the announcers booth, Steve Johnson neatly stacks a handful of papers in front of him while Vinny Vassa takes a drag from his half burnt cigar. With a pitcher of water and a bottle of whiskey on top of the booth, the well known duo take lead as Vassa points to the camera and winks.
JOHNSON: “Welcome ladies and gentlemen to another night of 4CW Adrenaline! I’m you host, Steve Johnson!”
VASSA: “And I’m Vinny Vassa! Good evening everyone!”
JOHNSON: “We’re coming to you live tonight from the KeyArena in Seattle, Washington and boy do we have an exciting lineup!”
VASSA: “That we do. I don’t often do my homework before show time but something told me I should check over the card before we went on the air. I have to admit, I like to be surprised when you run over things for us but this lineup makes my heart race!”
JOHNSON: “It is definitely a lineup that you can will all enjoy. But I want to take a moment and talk about some big news. Two weeks ago in that ring right there, we crowned a new 4CW Pride Champion!”
VASSA: “You bet your sweet ass we did! Jett Wilder has defied all odds and has now claimed a piece of gold for himself, a newly redesigned piece of gold that is by far the sexiest championship 4CW has.”
JOHNSON: “I wouldn’t go that far, Vinny. Yes, the new redesigned 4CW Pride Championship is a thing of beauty but the 4CW Championship still stands at the top in not only prestige but overall looks in my opinion.”
VASSA: “I hate to break it to you, Steve, but your opinion doesn’t mean shit when it comes to this.”
JOHNSON: “Hold on now, I beg to differ!”
VASSA: “I knew this would start a debate and I’m glad we could have this to open the show for everyone. I’ve been meaning to put you in your place and tonight I’m going to do exactly that!”
JOHNSON: “Oh you are?”
VASSA: “You damn right I am! Let me tell you something here! The 4CW Championship is a thing of beauty as well, but damn son, this new Pri–“
An ominous chant is heard throughout the arena speakers.
JOHNSON: “Hold on now!”
VASSA: “What the fuck?!”
“This is Memphis… he represents the desert… The desert that you will see on your screen in a story we will call, “The Lonely”… The Lonely is about a man sentenced to a lifetime of solitary confinement. The confinement takes place on a sandy asteroid far out in space… This is the story about a man slowly succumbing to a kind of nightmarish loneliness, a gradual disintegration of mind and body because human beings have an unstoppable need for companionship… The most benevolent and compassionate official sends the prisoner a long rectangular box containing… well… a machine… A machine inside of a mask built to look like a woman.”
Faint at first but growing louder and more intense at the dirty baseline kicks in. “Moonlight” by Uncle Skitz starts to play and the fans wait patiently as the chant continues to grow.
JOHNSON: “It looks like I’m not the only one who wants to listen to that garbage coming out of your mouth.”
VASSA: “Garbage? You got jokes now? Who the hell is interrupting me?!”
A milky purple smog fills ringside and new signee, Memphis Cunningham, descends from the rafters, landing on the top turnbuckle. He removes the cable from his back belt loop and hops down from the turnbuckle.
VASSA: “Who the hell is this?”
JOHNSON: “I thought you said that you did your homework? If you did, you would know that man in the ring right now is one of the newest additions to the 4CW roster.”
VASSA: “Is it fucking Halloween?”
JOHNSON: “No, but that’s Memphis Cunningham!”
Memphis leaps from the top turnbuckle and lands on the canvas. The fans are half amazed, half frightened by the presence of Memphis in the center of the ring. The smog floating around ringside makes everyone a little uneasy. Then a metallic voice is heard…
CUNNINGHAM: “Greetings moon-o-nites, your ruler is here. The emperor of the four posts has arrived to inject a lethal dose of villainy and vigilance amongst the 4CW atmosphere. Tonight I get the honor of eradicating two non-worthy wastes of a paycheck in Duff Briggs and Victor Cassius. Tonight, the emperor opens the gates for his minions… the terror shall reign.”
Memphis then steps back into his corner and the purple smog begins to slowly dissipate.
VASSA: “What the fuck was that?”
JOHNSON: “That’s one of the competitors for our opening match tonight.”
VASSA: “Okay, but why is he in the ring right now? What gives him the right to interrupt us when I was just about to put you in your place?”
JOHNSON: “No you weren’t. I’m tickled that you think you were but let’s be serious. You were in no way, shape, or form going to put me in my place. Half of the words that spew from your mouth are drunken thoughts barely formed into a coherent sentence.”
VASSA: “Wow… that hurts, Steve.”
JOHNSON: “I’m sorry, Vinny, but I had to let you know who the general is down here at ringside and it surely isn’t you.”
VASSA: “So you’re a general now?”
JOHNSON: “Indeed I am. Well look at that! We have an official in the ring and one of the competitors in our opening match. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that this opening is over with and the show has now officially started. Shall we?”
VASSA: “Shall we what?”
JOHNSON: “Get down to business! Take it away Mike Powers!”

OPENING MATCH
MEMPHIS CUNNINGHAM VS. DUFF BRIGGS VS. VICTOR CASSIUS
POWERS: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Standing in the ring from the Moon, weighing in at one hundred eighty nine pounds and standing six feet, one inch tall! He is “The Moon Man”, MEMPHIS CUNNINGHAM!!!”
The opening riff of “Lit Up” by Buckcherry blasts through the speakers and after a second Duff Briggs comes running out from the back.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Austin, Texas, weighing in at two hundred seventy five pounds and standing six feet, four inches tall! He is “Duffzilla”, “Duffalo”, DUFF BBRRIIGGGGSS!!!”
He waves his hands at the crowd, trying to amp them up before running down the ramp full speed. Duff slides in under the ropes of the ring, leaping to his feet and running at the ropes, bouncing off them and holding his hands out as he drops to his knees and slides across the ring. He then jumps back up again, running to the turnbuckle and waving his hands around like a mad man trying to get the crowd riled up even more. Duff finally jumps down and bounces in place, waiting for the match to get going.
POWERS: “And our final opponent!”
“Viol (Brodinski Remix)” hits, and the lights start to fluctuate wildly to the beat of the song. Desiree Drake steps out from the entry-way first, a smug, self-satisfied look on her face as she flaunts her curves to the audience. Soon after her comes Charity Skye, a much more genuine smile on her features as she also flaunts herself, a little less vindictively toward the audience, the floor around them now covered in a purplish haze of smoke. Victor makes his way out slowly to a chorus of boos, standing on the stage with his arms outstretched as he soaks up the attention, both women taking up a lascivious pose to either side of him, arms outstretched as they press to his sides and he smirks knowingly.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring accompanied by Desiree Drake and Charity Skye, weighing in at two hundred thirteen pounds and standing six feet tall! He is the “Essence of Excellence”, VICTOR CCAASSSSIIUUSS!!!”
Both women take the lead then, and Victor follows behind, his robe flowing as his managers make their way toward the ring, Desiree rolling her eyes at the crowd as Charity smiles brightly. Victor jaws with some of the audience on the way, showing off his physique to some of the female members of the audience as well as both women scale the apron from opposite sides, sitting in sensual poses as Victor slides under the ropes between them. He finds his way to his feet once more as both women step in, making his way to the center of the ring, where he stands arms outstretched again. Charity and Desiree strip him of his robe then, and Victor smirks, dropping to his knees with a grin to let the crowd soak up his arrogance before nipping back up, having a few choice words with the official before leaning confidently in his corner to await the start of the match as his managers step out of the ring.
JOHNSON: “It’s time to kick things off with our opening match! We have three newly signed wrestlers and will get to see them in action against each other right here.”
VASSA: “Well as we all saw, Memphis Cunningham doesn’t have very good manners. Anyone who interrupts a debate is just plain rude.”
JOHNSON: “If anything he saved you. We also have Duff Briggs making his 4CW debut here in Seattle.”
VASSA: “HA-HA! Hate to correct you Steve but we’ve seen Duff Briggs in a 4CW ring before back in September when we held the tournament for the 4CW Tag Team Championships.”
JOHNSON: “I stand corrected.”
VASSA: “I would have murdered you in that debate about the Pride Championship. Instead, I get to sit back and look at these two fine ladies at ringside.”
JOHNSON: “They join us tonight with Victor Cassius who is making his debut.”
VASSA: “Well, at least he has manners and brings a little eye candy to the ring with him.”
JOHNSON: “I’m sure he brings a lot more than that and we’ll see first hand here in just a moment.”
Standing in the center of the ring, the official checks with each corner and gets the nod from everyone. He then throws his hand into the air and signals for the bell.
DING!!! DING!!!
As if possessed by the sound of the bell, Duff bursts from his corner and charges towards Memphis. As he closes in, Duff lunges forward to grab ahold of Memphis but as he does, Memphis side steps him and sends him face-fist into the turnbuckle with a drop toe hold. Smacking the turnbuckle with a thud, Duff’s head bounces off and he stumbles back into Memphis’ clutches. Memphis stands beside him and then drops him back to the canvas with a Russian leg sweep. Before Memphis can get back to his feet, Victor slides in behind him and as Memphis stands, he delivers a stuff elbow shot to the lower back. Memphis drops to one knee before receiving multiple forearm shots to the back of the head.
Victor then grabs ahold of Memphis’ head and pull him up to his feet before spinning him around and throwing him to the far corner. With Memphis out of the picture, Victor grabs onto the top rope with both hands and jumps up onto the bottom rope, springboards off and shoot himself directly into the air before coming down with a knee drop onto Duff’s head. Back on his feet, Victor then turn to Memphis who is propped up in the corner. He then takes off towards him and once he closes in, goes for a clothesline aimed for Memphis’ head.
VASSA: “Look out!”
JOHNSON: “He missed!”
At the last possible split second, Memphis rolls out of the corner leaving nothing but turnbuckle for Victor to eat as he crashes into the corner. Stepping away from the corner, Victor then gets knocked back into it as Memphis hits him in the back with a spinning heel kick. Memphis then lifts Victor up and places him on top of the corner in a seated position looking out to the crowd. Hearing footsteps behind him, Memphis then turns around just in time to take notice and avoid Duff charging in. Rolling out of the way, Memphis leaves a direct path for Duff to crash into the corner while delivering a headbutt to Victor’s lower back. Duff then climbs the corner to the middle rope and wraps his arms around Victor’s waist. Before Duff can do anything else, Victor throws an elbow back and plants it right into Duff’s mouth, breaking his hold in the process.
Wobbling back and forth off balance, Duff manages to keep his footing until Memphis comes back into the picture and wraps him up. Lifting Duff up and pulling him away from the corner, Memphis drops Duff to the canvas with a belly to back suplex. Hearing the impact behind him, Victor then stands up and climbs even higher until he is standing on the top rope. Looking over his shoulder, Victor waits until Memphis rolls away from Duff before leaping into the air with a backflip. As if floating in mid-air, Victor hovers until finally coming down on top of Duff with a moonsault.
JOHNSON: “It doesn’t get any more perfect than that.”
VASSA: “That was a pretty sweet moonsault.”
JOHNSON: “So far we have ourselves a fast paced triple threat to kick the evening off ladies and gents.”
VASSA: “It’s been a while since we’ve had three new signees, or even two for that matter, debut with the opening match. Normally these opening matches are bigger but I think it’s great to give the new talent a chance to shine in the spotlight.”
JOHNSON: “You better watch what you say, Vinny, or Aidan and Cashe will be out here fighting over who does it better.”
VASSA: “Let them! I’ve been waiting for weeks now, even months, to see those two go head to head.”
Slowly getting back to his feet, Victor keeps his attention focused on Duff who is laid out at his feet. The crowd begins to stir as Memphis sneaks behind him, quietly and unnoticed. Picking up on the reactions of the crowd, Victor slowly turns around only to be surprised as Memphis kicks him in the gut. Memphis then lifts Victor up from his feet and drops him back to the mat with a sit-out scoop slam. Racing to his feet, Memphis then turns his focus to Duff and quickly grabs ahold of his arm. Dragging him up to his feet, Memphis then whips Duff to the ropes behind him. As Duff hits the ropes, Memphis makes his way to the center of the ring and as the two collide, Memphis lifts Duff into the air, spins around and drives him into the canvas with a spinebuster.
Popping back to his feet, Memphis then stomps repeatedly on Duff’s shoulder before jumping straight into the air and coming down with a leg drop across the throat. Pushing himself up almost instantly, Memphis goes back on the attack with stomps and kicks before turning around to face the opposite direction. Memphis then does a backflip and executes the standing moonsault over the fallen body of Duff’s. Pushing himself up yet again, Memphis stomps on Duff a little more before turning around for another standing moonsault.
JOHNSON: “Here comes Victor!”
VASSA: “Look out Memphis!”
Just as Memphis turns around, Victor greets him with superkick that knocks him backwards. Memphis then stumbles and trips over Duff’s body before crashing to the mat. Victor then grabs Duff by the head and rolls him over to his stomach before pulling him up to his feet. Hooking his arm around Duff’s head, Victor then lifts him up and flips him over to his back with a snap suplex. Not wasting any time, Victor stands back up and drags Duff up from the mat. He then hooks his head again and flips him over to his back with another snap suplex. Victor stands tall and without even taking a moment to rest, he pulls Duff up from the mat. Lifting him into the air and over his head, Victor drops Duff behind him with a front slam. He then does a backflip and connects with the moonsault before bursting to his feet and doing a front flip, landing the standing shooting star.
VASSA: “Damn, look at the moves on him!”
JOHNSON: “Victor likes to call that moonsault to standing shooting star combination the Agon and Ecstasy.”
VASSA: “Ecstasy? Who’s holding?”
JOHNSON: “Holding what?”
With Duff underneath him, Victor goes for the pin as the ref drops in for the count.
ONE
.
.
TW–
Running back into the picture, Memphis breaks up the pin with a boot to the back of Victor’s head. Knocking Victor off of Duff, Memphis then grabs Duff and drags him to the center of the ring before pulling him up to his feet. He then applies a headlock and pulls Duff’s head down to his side, transitioning it into a side headlock. Cranking down on the pressure, Memphis tries to pop Duff’s head like a zit. Squirming to break free, Duff begins to wear himself down but in a last ditch effort, Duff plants one hand on Memphis’ lower back and pushes him away, breaking the headlock and sending Memphis running to the ropes. After coming back on the rebound, Memphis ducks underneath a clothesline thrown by Duff and continues to the ropes ahead. Leaping into the air, Memphis springboards off the middle ropes and after turning around in mid-air, he nearly takes Duff’s head off with a flying clothesline. With Duff laid out again, Memphis then covers him for the pin as the ref quickly races over for the count.
ONE
.
.
TWO
VASSA: “Memphis is going to win it! THR–“
JOHNSON: “Victor breaks up the near pin!”
VASSA: “Talk about a close call. Memphis nearly had the match in the bag.”
With his foot still on the back of Memphis’ head, Victor pushes him off of Duff and rolls him onto his back. Victor then grabs Memphis leg and drags him away from Duff but before he can drag him far, Memphis kicks forward with his other leg and plants his foot directly into Victor’s face, sending him stumbling backwards before falling to the mat. The two then race to get to their feet, both standing at the same time. The two then charge toward one another and collide in the center of the ring, exchanging punches. Victor connects with a stuff right hand only to leave his side open for a kick from Memphis. Victor then throws another hard right but Memphis blocks it only to counter with a right of his own. Memphis then takes a swing for the fences and goes for Victor’s head.
JOHNSON: “The knockout punch!”
VASSA: “Not yet!”
Victor ducks and avoids the blow and as Memphis’ momentum forces him to spin around, Victor wraps his arms around his waist. After locking hands, Victor then lifts Memphis up from his feet and goes for a German suplex. Just as Memphis reaches his highest point, he manages to break free from Victor’s grip and rolls out of the German suplex, landing to his feet as Victor hits the mat. Leaping over Victor, Memphis takes off for the ropes and as he hits the ropes, Victor pops back up to his feet. Jumping into the air and coming straight for him with speed, Victor holds his hands up as Memphis hits him in the chest with a dropkick. Victor stumbles back into the ropes but latches onto them, holding himself up.
Across the ring, Duff slowly climbs to his feet and as he stands, Memphis takes notice. Memphis then turns his attention to Duff and runs right past him and jumps into the air, planting both feet onto the middle rope. After springboarding off, Memphis turns his body and wraps his arm around Duff’s head, taking him down and planting his head into the canvas with a tornado implant DDT.
JOHNSON: “The Quarter Moon!”
VASSA: “Is it? Are you sure it’s a quarter moon tonight?”
JOHNSON: “No you idiot, that’s what Memphis calls that tornado implant DDT.”
VASSA: “Oh… he should call it moonshine because I’m sure Duff is feeling like he’s had one too many swigs of that shit.”
With Duff down and out, Memphis stands back to his feet but as he does, Victor rushes in towards him. Lunging forward, Victor goes to lock up with Memphis but as he does, Memphis bends over and then lifts Victor up using his momentum. Victor goes up and over Memphis’ head but he quickly grabs ahold of the top rope and manages to land on his feet outside on the apron. Victor then reaches over the top rope and grabs Memphis by the head and pulls him in close. Before Victor can do anything else, Memphis throws an elbow back and hits Victor square in the mouth. Memphis then spins around and swings for Victor’s head, only to come up short as Victor ducks. Lunging through the top and middle ropes, Victor drives his shoulder into Memphis’ stomach, forcing the air to erupt from his lungs.
With Memphis bend over and out of breath, Victor then grabs onto the top rope and jumps up, vaulting himself over it and planting his feet onto Memphis’ back. Victor then leaps into the air and as he pushes away from Memphis’ he sends him through the ropes and to the outside. While flying, Victor the turns his body and comes down with frog splash across Duff.
JOHNSON: “Ne God Flow!”
VASSA: “He just used Memphis like a trampoline!”
JOHNSON: “Memphis is on the outside and Victor is going for the pin!”
Hooking the leg, Victor covers Duff as the ref drops down for the count.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!
DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!
JOHNSON: “Victor Cassius wins it in an impressive debut here on Adrenaline!”
VASSA: “It wasn’t an easy win by any means. For a while there, I thought Memphis was going to edge out the win.”
JOHNSON: “It wasn’t easy at all but in the end, Victor will go home tonight with the win.”
“Viol” hits the speakers as Victor stands to his feet. The official then raises his arm into the air as Desiree and Charity both enter the ring and stand beside him.
POWERS: “Here is your winner by pinfall, VICTOR CCAASSSSIIUUSS!!!”

As the cameras switch backstage they find interviewer Gabriel Hartman hurrying along, trying to catch up with someone.
HARTMAN: “Aidan, Aidan! Miss Carlisle! A few words, if you don’t mind?”
A good thirty or so feet up the corridor, Hartman’s quarry stops in her tracks. Even at that distance her exasperated sigh is clearly audible. Her shoulders rise and fall with a quick “calming” breath before she turns on her heel to face him as he rushes to close the gap.
CARLISLE: “What, Hartman? I am trying to get to my locker room and I can’t pass a single one of the backstage servants without someone stopping me for something. What inane thing do you need to bother me with?”
Hartman is either very good at keeping his composure or entirely oblivious. He forges ahead without missing a beat after pushing his heavy glasses back up his face. He holds the microphone up so high between them that Aidan makes a face and directs the mic backward slightly before he can ask his first question.
HARTMAN: “Well first, at the last Adrenaline Perry Wallace issued an open challenge for the Tag Team Championships at Winter Wasteland on behalf of yourself and Bryan Williams. Has anyone stepped up to be your opponents?”
CARLISLE: “Of course not, Hartman. There has been nothing but resounding silence. Half the roster is too much of a coward to rise to the occasion and the other half is wise enough to know they won’t win. It’s as simple as that. Maybe Perry Wallace will shove two people in the ring together across from us, maybe Bryan and I will stand there to no resistance. Either way, the result is the same; Art of War retains the Tag Team Championships at Winter Wasteland.”
HARTMAN: “Some people have claimed that you and Bryan took out Zelda Orion so that you wouldn’t have to face Bitch TV for the titles.”
CARLISLE: “That pathetic little piece of shit wasn’t good enough to stand up to me one on one. Why would anyone think that her equally unimpressive partner would bring anything better to the table against me and Bryan? Bitch TV never stood a chance of getting their fingers on the Tag Titles and they knew it, which is why they ran away like little pussies after I beat the shit out of Orion.”
As if to punctuate her point, Aidan unbuckles her half of the Tag Team Championships from around her waist and drapes it over her shoulder for the cameras to see.
CARLISLE: “This is mine. It will not be leaving my possession until I decide that I am ready to let it go. As it stands, Bryan and myself are the only undefeated tag team currently in 4CW. Fuck, we’re the only ones even listed on the roster as a team.
“A few superstitious idiots walk around whispering about how these titles are cursed. Bryan and I have already proven that wrong. Not only have we survived, we’ve thrived. See, when neither half of the team is the kind to just start crying and give up at the tiniest hint of trouble, a team can actually endure. Bryan and I settled our differences when they came up, and we got stronger.
“We proved that we could work as a team when we went to Fight One and almost walked away with their Tag Titles. We knew that we had what it took, so we came back here and we went through Jett Wilder and Luiz Cavalcante. We went through Jason Cashe and Shadow. And then we took what was ours when we defeated Gold Standard and the Distinguished Archetypes to win the Tag Team Tournament. No matter who else might meekly crawl into the ring across from us down the line, we have what it takes to wipe them off the roster too.”
Gabriel nods away furiously as she speaks, looking like a balding bobblehead standing in front of her. One twitchy hand reaches up so his index finger can push his glasses back up his face again where they almost immediately start sliding back down his aquiline nose. He tries to step in closer, but Aidan extends a hand to keep him at arm’s length.
HARTMAN: “Could you perhaps shed some light on the visit you took to the last Fate show? Your history with GM Bethany Bailey?”
CARLISLE: “Bethany and I have wrestled in the same companies before, that’s all there is to it. We haven’t been overly fond of each other, but I had a business proposition for her. Until she makes her final decision I’m not going to let the cat out of the bag. That choice is hers and hers alone.”
Hartman looks nervous before his next inquiry. His eyes roam up and down the hall and even over his shoulder, twice. His lips move wordlessly as he seems to be rehearsing the question or trying to decide exactly how to phrase it.
HARTMAN: “What about the suggestion that you may have had something to do with the disappearance of Da…ta Sm…”
CARLISLE: “I’m sorry, who?”
HARTMAN: “…ota …ith.”
CARLISLE: “For fuck’s sake, Hartman, spit it out!”
HARTMAN: “Dakota Smith! Did you have something to do with the kidnapping of Dakota Smith?”
A long silence stretches out as Aidan just stares at the interviewer with one brow raised.
CARLISLE: “Do you think he’s like Bloody Mary or something? You say his name too many times and he appears right behind you?”
At the suggestion Hartman’s head whipped around and he spun a full circle to check in all directions for The Butcher.
HARTMAN: “Well, it was noted that you didn’t have a match the night that he disappeared. Of everyone on the roster, you are among the top few who have a reason to have a grudge against him…”
After a few moments of consideration Aidan gave a shrug.
CARLISLE: “Both of those things are true.”
She turned on her heel and began walking back down the hall in the direction she had been heading before he stopped her.
HARTMAN: “Wait, Aidan! Aren’t you going to answer the question?!”
CARLISLE: “Sorry, Hartman, but your time is up. I’ve got a lot to do tonight. Everyone seems to want a little piece of the Alpha Bitch’s time.”
Gabriel is left stammering and sputtering in the middle of the hall as Aidan leaves him behind without another word.



UNDERCARD
MAGNUS BRUTUS VS. LUKE JONES
And then the heavy guitar rift of The Misfits’ “Kong At The Gates” begins to hammer out over the arena’s PA system. There are no fancy lights or pyro, just a calling by the music that something awful is about to happen. After a couple of the thundering drums sound out from the back steps out the ancient one himself, the man who walks from town to town leaving carnage behind him, the monstrous Magnus BRUTUS himself.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Portland, Oregon, weighing in at two hundred sixty six pounds and standing six feet, two inches tall, MAGNUS BBRRUUTTUUSS!!!”
The man is dressed in a pair wrestling pants which are blue and darker blue and look as if they haven’t been changed in probably twenty years. His wrists are taped and they match his wrestling pants and he has an even dirtier look on his face, at his side is the young and redheaded Pheobe who is wearing a short and flowing white nurse’s outfit complete with hat on her head. The two make their way to the ring before Magnus climbs into it, leaving Phoebe on the outside.
JOHNSON: “Brutus Magnus has been around for a while, referred to some as a hardcore icon. He looks to bring his ferocity and brutal style to 4CW and to his opponent tonight, Luke Jones.”
VASSA: “He can burn a hole through paper with those eyes of his. He’s a man on a mission. Will do whatever the hell it takes to get the job done. He’s not afraid to go to that special place.”
“Insurrection” by Lamb of God blasts throughout the arena as Luke Jones steps onto the ramp. The hood from his jacket covers his head as he bobs it with the beat of the music. As the drums kick in Luke throws back his hood and yells loudly pounding his chest. He stands at the top of the ramp for a few seconds before taking off towards the ring.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Lexington, Kentucky, weighing in at two hundred forty five pounds and standing six feet, six inches tall! He is “The Annihilator”, LUKE JJOONNEESS!!!”
Luke slides into the ring and begins bouncing off the ropes, before climbing the turnbuckle and lifting his arm above his head.
JOHNSON: “A confident look on Jones here tonight, lets hope it translates to the match here!”
VASSA: “If not, he will be the one annihilated!”
As both participants are ready to go, the referee signals for the bell as Luke Jones is squared up, ready to go as he looks at the facial expression and the eyes of Magnus Brutus, whom looks to stare a whole straight through Luke’s head.
DING!!! DING!!!
Bad intentions stirring inside of it. Luke rushes and goes to tie Magnus up but Magnus isn’t for all of that as he pushes Luke’s attempt off. Luke eyes widen as he got shoved back into the ropes. Luke hits Brutus with a straight kick right to the gut that sent Magnus backwards. Luke followed with a stiff knee to the gut, as he went for another tie-up, which was successful and in turn led to a quick, snap suplex, putting Brutus on his back. Brutus immediately rolled over, slapping the mat with much anger. Luke rushes in, delivering a melee of foot stomps to the back and side of Brutus, doing his best to try and keep him dow but all it does is just anger the man even more. Brutus got back up to his feet as Luke was looking to stay on him, giving him no space to do much. Luke went for the uppercut with that European flair to it. He got it in twice. Trying for three didn’t pan out well as he got stopped. Brutus had blocked his attempt, holding his arm, squeezing tight as he stared and smiled at Luke. Brutus just took his free hand and ‘swatted’ Jones, spinning him around. Brutus lifted Jones up and planted him with a powerful body slam, shaking the ring.
JOHNSON: “Brutus Magnus displaying that rare “brute-like” strength on Jones. He’s a menacing one. Luke is trying but just, right now it isn’t working out how he planned it in his head.”
VASSA: “Luke better go to “Plan B” because his intial plan isn’t doing squat right now. Did you not just see the ring shake a moment ago? This guy, those damn eyes of his and his power can truly do some wicked things. The scars on him tells the story. He’s been around for the longest and fought the hardest.”
JOHNSON: “Indeed, in the roughest conditions ever. A Hardcore icon. You can see with this display, he’s well on his way.”
Brutus looked down, a slight smirk on his face as he had Jones on his back. Jones tried to roll out of the way but Brutus’s foot paused any actions like that. Pressing down all his weight on Jones’s chest, Brutus delivered a foot stomp, looking to put a severe dent in the right side of Jones chest. Followed was Brutus’s second foot as he now was standing with all two hundred and sixty-six pounds of him on Jones as you could hear him scream. Brutus was smiling as the ref was counting, all the way up to three so far. By the time four had come, Brutus had proceeded to step off on the other side of Jones, just in before the five seconds. Jones rolled over and out as the referee went to check on him. Brutus had now gotten the pace down to his liking. Slow and painful.
JOHNSON: “Jones is just getting handled with ease right now.”
VASSA: “Brutus just literally walked right on and over Jones. He’s feeling all of that. Oh man!”
Brutus’s presence causes the ref to quickly move out of the man’s way as he delivers a gut kick right to Jones, making him roll over. Brutus follows up, grabbing Jones by his skull, palming it as he lifts Jones onto his feet again. He wastes no time in unleashing his brutal right hand into the body of Jones, who began going in reverse, landing into the near corner. Brutus comes in and reaches with his right again, clutching on to the throat of Jones as he seconds later has both his hands join around Jones’s throat. The referee has no choice but to butt in to force Brutus to break his hold within the five count barely. Luke coughing from that stronghold as the ref checks on him. Brutus takes a moment as he turns around but Jones’s has no chance to fully recover due to Brutus turning back around and catching him flush with a direct elbow smash. The referee almost was caught in the midst there but escaped narrowly. Jones fell to the canvas, Brutus holds onto the ropes as he stomps and attempts to choke Luke Jones with his boot, smothering him, again facing another five-count and barely evading the DQ. Brutus takes a few steps back as he looks around him, planning out what was next. The ref went back to check on Jones, seeing if he was alright.
JOHNSON: “Looks like Jones came in waking up on the wrong side of the bed!”
VASSA: “He’s on the wrong side of up! Brutus is making Jones his bitch right now. I mean, the man did say he was going to rip his arm off and–“
JOHNSON: “Yeah, yeah … I know.”
Luke Jones did finally find his way back onto with the assistance of the ropes but Brutus wasn’t all for giving out time to rest. As he rushed towards Jones, he got caught with an elbow to the chest that caused him to back up a few steps as Luke caught him with another shot. Brutus immediately kicked Jones in the gut and delivered a hammering headbutt, putting Jones back down onto his knees. Brutus delivered a running knee right to Jones face. Once again, he hauled Jones from off the floor as he wasted no time, slinging him through the middle rope onto the outside.
JOHNSON: “Oh boy, here’s where the “real fun” begins for Brutus and Jones here!”
VASSA: “Jones was born on the year Brutus Magnus debuted inside a wrestling ring. The way things going right now, I’m sure Jones wishes he didn’t exist right now for this brutal beat down he is taking!”
Brutus stands over top of Jones, who is holding his head after being tossed out onto the floor. Brutus’s manager, Phoebe Walters stood about four-five feet behind him as you could hear some of the folks in the audience chant “BRU-TUS! BRU-TUS! BRU-TUS!” over and over. Jones got himself onto an ‘on all-fours’ stance to which Brutus took his boot and stomped right down on the back, putting Jones back down, face to the floor. The referee was already on three. Brutus at the moment ignored it, paid it no mind. He lifted Jones up, hoisting him up horizontally in front of him as he drove Jones back-first into the barricade, literally moving it about an inch backwards from the force of impact. Jones felt every bit of that as the fans in the front row all tried to reach out to touch Brutus Magnus. He looked to Phoebe who reminded him of the count which stood at seven. Brutus made his way into the ring through the bottom rope before sliding back out, resetting the count.
Brutus walks backs towards Jones who is slowly crawling on his hands and knees to recovery, but there was no such. Brutus said something to Jones as he grabbed him and shoved him into the corner of the barricade. Yelling down onto Jones, Brutus rammed his knees, one behind the other into the chest of Jones. Brutus backed up a bit before delivering one final strike with the knee, this time catching Jones square in the face as blood was now evident, coming from the side of mouth. Brutus picked Jones up, once again hauling him to what was the ring apron. Rolling him into the ring, Brutus followed behind. Brutus taunted Jones, wanting him to get up, wanting him to rise one more time. Jones was not one to stay down, even after a brutal slaying thus far, Jones managed to do just that and get back up onto his feet, a slow approach, hurt. Jones came at Brutus but he had no chance in hell to do anything. Brutus blocked his attempt with ease, rocking him with another headbutt that lead to Brutus positioning Jones into what would be his last stand, dropping him with what he calls “Paroxysm”, hitting Jones with a double-set of knees to the face, putting him down for good. One hand cockily needed for the cover.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!
JOHNSON: “Finally, it’s over! Brutus with one of the most brutal one-sided affairs I’ve ever seen!”
VASSA: “Luke Jones was supposed to be here but as you can clearly see, he must’ve hired a body double to take his place being he obviously heard too about Brutus and that Cheese Grater incident!”
DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!
POWERS: ”Your Winner by Pinfall … MAGNUS BBRRUUTTUUSS!!!”

The feed cuts backstage where we find Chris Madison and Jason Cashe exiting a locker room that had been labeled “the Unstable”. As the two men push through the door they begin walking side by side down the backstage corridors of the KeyArena. Both men are dressed in their wrestling gear, read for action, along with black t-shirts that say #Unstable across the chest in white lettering.
MADISON: “You ready to take care of business tonight Jay?”
CASHE: “You already know! “Troubled Mayhem” has been twelve years in the making.”
MADISON: “Before we bring it to Jett and Bronx, I wanna find Knox; he’s got himself some explaining to do.”
CASHE: ”We gonna beat him like Ricky Ricardo? Ha!”
MADISON: ”Just take it easy on his crippled ass. It’s gotta be bad enough that he sees you and Niobe running around like a couple of teenagers in heat.”
Madison and Cashe continue walking, passing by a lot of the backstage staff that keeps Adrenaline running show after show. As they walk they begin to notice an uptick in security; guys wearing their Sons of Anarchy starting kits. Down the hall they notice Tommy Knox, 4CW’s road agent. As they approach him Madison shouts out to him.
MADISON: ”Knox hold up!”
CASHE: ”Ayyyeeeoo KNOOOXXXY!!”
Knox was about to enter Perry Wallace’s designated office for the night. He turns to see Jason Cashe and Chris Madison steadily approaching. He quickly pulls his hand from the door knob and moves towards two of his oldest friends in the industry.
KNOX: ”What’s up mother fuckers? Hope you two are ready for your big match later on tonight.”
MADISON: ”When have you ever known me to not be ready for a big match?”
KNOX: ”You? You’re always ready. That question was more so directed at fuck stick over here. Hello Jason, how’s my old lady treatin’ you?”
CASHE: ”She seems more pleased than ever, did you even stretch that out any? Tight like a virg–”
MADISON: ”Well that didn’t take long.”
KNOX: ”It’s cool. I hear she likes that he can eat pussy while having his teeth clenched together. Less work on the jaw too I suppose.”
MADISON: ”You two through? Cause there was an actual reason for this little meeting and it wasn’t to listen to the two of you bicker about Niobe.”
Madison gives a cold stare at both Cashe and Knox, swaying his head from side to side between the both of them.
KNOX: ”So what’s up guys? I was just about to head in there to deliver something for Wallace.”
MADISON: ”Actually I think that’s exactly what we want to know. What’s up? What’s up with the beefed up security detail running around here wearing those familiar kuttes?”
KNOX: ”You guys put the fear in the old man. After that chair shot to the head, he wanted some muscle to watch his back. He came to me and I hooked it up with a club I know. He pays me, I take my cut, and then I pay them.”
MADISON: ”So your heart lays with the almighty dollar over two guys that you’ve known forever? We’ve all traveled these roads together for years. Didn’t realize your loyalty was so cheap…”
Knox takes a moment to process the words before answering. The expression on his face alone was a dead giveaway that he was hurt by that statement.
KNOX: ”It ain’t like that, though. Wallace needed reassurance and these guys create the image of safety for him. Wallace is a cheap fuck. I can promise you that none of these guys are going to put themselves in harms way for him. He needs to feel safe and with them around he gets that feelin’ of security.”
MADISON: ”There are private companies out there that provide security details for a price. Could have simply told him fuck off, go that route… Or did retirement turn you into a glorified yes man?”
Cashe being a prick nods repeatedly “yes” which causes Knox to shove him ever so friendly as he officially responds.
KNOX: ”It turned me into a ‘this ain’t nothing but one big party on the road’ man. It’s not like these guys are hunting you and Unstable down. By the way, thanks for that invite.You guys pretty much do what you want anyway. Is Wallace having a couple bodies around him really going to stop that?”
MADISON: ”It’s all one big party until the boss man stops lining your pockets. Security ain’t no problem for us. The fact that you provided it is. Tommy Knox… The Company Man. Never thought I’d see the day.”
KNOX: ”Pretty good looking ‘company man’ if I do say so myself. This isn’t exactly a suit. Look it, this had nothing to do with you guys. Those guys over there, the hired ‘help’, they needed the cash. I’m helping them as I’ve stood by you two and helped in the past.”
CASHE: ”Pssh you’ve helped who? Helped yourself remain useful by selling a good product and being a good “Fetch it” boy…”
KNOX: ”What the FUCK!? Don’t be a dick!”
Blowing Cashe off (Heh), Knox looks back to Madison as the man known as “Mayhem” begins to speak.
MADISON: ”How are ya gonna feel if I go over there and snap his neck. You know just as well as anyone the danger you put them in by getting them this gig. You knew that at some point they’re gonna have to get their hands dirty.”
KNOX: ”Check it out. Sure, that fat fuck could have reached out to some legit professionals, a legal company. But then what? Then you have people here with some sort of legal authority. That doesn’t mesh well with my job. You know how much coke I used to get RPG just for him to blow up hookers asses? Last thing I need or anyone here for that matter is some rent-a-cop trying to make a name for himself or sneaking around with a camera. I trust these guys and I can promise you right here and right now that you guys aren’t in their sights. They’re here for the free ride like I am.”
Knox looks to Cashe, who is hardly paying attention and picking his nose deep in the nostril. Knox nudges him on the shoulder.
KNOX: ”What have you guys been smokin’? Been dippin’ into some of that shitiva stash? Y’all are paranoid over nothing. Trust me.”
CASHE: ”Please…I wouldn’t smoke that if it was free.”
MADISON: ”Yeah? Cause it sure doesn’t feel like it. Don’t forget who was checking in on you every day when Jason Richards tore your knee to shreds. Don’t forget who followed you to Pro Wrestling Uprising because you thought the place looked promising. It wasn’t Perry Wallace and it wasn’t this band of bikers that are flooding these halls…”
Bursting into laughter, Knox’s face turns completely red as he unable to control himself. After a few moments pass, he finally calms down but can’t erase the grin on his face.
KNOX: ”Well… In my defense, I was lead to that shit hole of a promotion by the scent of hot ass and tight pussy. I wasn’t aware of the underhanded shit goin’ on behind closed doors. But I know where you’re comin’ from. Do you seriously think I would sell you two out over that fat fuck on the other side of this door?”
CASHE: ”Wouldn’t surprise me and it wouldn’t be the first time I had to go upside your head for being a dumb fuck either would it KnoxVILLE?”
Trying to ignore Cashe’s hateful comments, he just stiff arm shoves Cashe again. Cashe shoves him back and Chris Madison once again gets things back on track.
MADISON: ”As long as you’ve known me, it’s not often I give someone the chance to explain themselves. If I seriously thought that it would have been taken care of, no questions asked. We’re here talking to you because we don’t want to believe that you’d sell us out for that curly headed fuck.”
KNOX: ”Did you ever stop to think that maybe if I were to hear anything, I would pass along information to you guys?”
MADISON: ”I figured you would… But as long as I’ve been here nothing has come down the pipe and everywhere I turn I see another one of your biker buddies that are supposed to be here to protect Wallace. Don’t you see how that looks from our side?”
CASHE: ”YEAH! What he said..”
KNOX: ”Shut..Up Cashe…but I see your point Madison. Honestly, I haven’t heard shit. Him and that new cat, Jack Vaughn, have been keeping things under wraps. I set Wallace up with muscle and other than that, I’m only called upon when he needs something.”
Knox then pulls out a bag filled with some of the sticky. Holding it up, Cashe goes to snatch it but Knox manages to pull out of his reach. Placing it back into his pocket, he continues.
KNOX: ”That’s about it, brother. The door is always closed wherever he is now so sneaking around is sort of tough. I’m just going to have to catch him when he’s fucked up and hope something spills. He’s good for that, piece of shit.”
MADISON: ”Well if something comes up you know where to find us…”
Madison cuts himself short as one of the bikers turned security guard approaches the group of men.
SECURITY GUARD: ”Everything good here?”
KNOX: ”Yeah brother, all goo–”
CASHE: ”And if it’s not good? This fucking guy..”
Out of nowhere Madison shoots a straight right jab to the throat of the security guard, forcing him to hunch over while placing both hands on his neck. Madison grabs the guard by the back of the head and drives him face first into the concrete wall. The guard slumps down to the ground, blood beginning to pour from his apparently broken nose.
KNOX: ”What the fuck man?!”
CASHE: ”BITE HIM!! PULL HIS HAIR!!”
Leaving it alone, the other Guards stand down as Knox holds up a hand for them to stop. Hoping things wouldn’t get out of hand anymore, Chris Madison calmly looks at Knox and then to the other guards.
MADISON: ”What? I didn’t like the way he looked at me. Just don’t forget to let us know if something comes up.”
KNOX: ”He has a lazy eye, he wasn’t even looking at you.”
Knox then leans over to check on the man before looking back up to Madison shaking his head but trying not to laugh.
KNOX: ”I got you. He’s just gotta talk and knowing how close the three of us are, he doesn’t do too much of that around here except for blabbering about this or that that he wants me to get for him.”
CASHE: ”Let me pinch his sack, I’m low and tonight I will need a celebration bowl.”
Reaching into his other pocket, Knox pulls out an even bigger bag and tosses it Cashe’s way.
KNOX: ”Happy new year, fuck head.”
His eyes light up as Cashe catches the bag. He quickly reaches over and slaps Knox across the face.
CASHE: ”Thanks HoooMoooo!”
KNOX: ”You’re gonna stop bullying me, Madison tell him to stop being mean!”
Softly backhand tapping Cashe to the chest, Madison nods at Knox.
MADISON: ”It’s alright, we’re out of here anyways. There is a Main Event and sold out show to knock out…”
Knox then extends his hand to bump fists with Madison. He then extends it to Cashe but before the two bump fists, Knox pulls back and holds up his middle finger.
KNOX: ”Knox ‘em dead… see what I did there? Kill it fellas. I’ll be in touch.”
CASHE: ”Lame..”
Cashe and Madison nonchalantly walk away as Knox turns his attention back to the fallen security guard. Medical personnel brush passed the two members of Unstable to treat the security guard as the scene cuts away.

UNDERCARD
BRADLEY STEVENS VS. RORIE STEELE
POWERS: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall!”
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 from Liverpool, England, weighing in at two hundred pounds and standing six feet, one inch tall, 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.
JOHNSON: “Bradley will look to get on the right track here tonight with a win after coming off a tough and brutal loss to Aidan Carlisle two weeks ago.”
VASSA: “That was pretty brutal, wasn’t it?”
JOHNSON: “It was indeed, hopefully he can move on past that and get on the right track here in 4CW.”
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.
“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!”
POWERS: “And the opponent!”
The lights flash forward, showing Rorie in all of her glory. She smirks at the crowd, walking down to the ring.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Vancouver, British Columbia, weighing in at one hundred twenty five pounds and standing five feet, six inches tall! She is “The Original Sex Kitten” and “Sweetest Ass in the Game”, RORIE SSTTEEEELLEE!!!”
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.
VASSA: “I’m pretty sure that she’s blowing those kisses towards me.”
JOHNSON: “In you head that may be the case but I highly doubt it.”
VASSA: “It’s not just my head that’s saying it, it’s also my heart.”
JOHNSON: “Like Bradley, Rorie is also coming off a tough loss from two weeks ago.”
VASSA: “Hmm, isn’t that odd. Both of these folks are coming off of losses to the Tag Team Champions.”
JOHNSON: “What a coincidence. This match is up for grabs and only one person can walk away the winner tonight. Whoever that person may be, will get on the right track with a win while the other falls to a streak of losses.”
VASSA: “This is an important match for both. I’d expect them both to bring everything to this match and leave it all in the ring.”
Looking over to Bradley, the official checks with him and quickly receives the nod. The official then turns to Rorie who instantly blows a kiss to him, signaling that she’s ready as well. With both competitors ready to get things underway, the official throws his arm into the air and signals for the bell.
DING!!! DING!!!
Before the bell can even silence, Rorie shoots out of her corner and races towards Bradley. Catching him off guard, Rorie leaves him nowhere to escape as she corners him before lunging forward and connecting with a stiff elbow strike to the chops. With Bradley stunned, Rorie then delivers a jumping calf kick, knocking him against the turnbuckles. Not wasting any time at all, Rorie then slaps him across the chest with a knife edge chop and then lunges forward, locking her hands around his head. She then rips Bradley out of the corner and slams his face down onto the top rope. With his face pressed against the fabric, she then drags him from one corner to the other, giving him a nasty face rake with the rope. Once in the other corner, she then pulls his head back and slams it forward, face-first into the top turnbuckle. After the illegal use of the ropes, the official quickly squeezes in between the two and backs Rorie away from Bradley, firing off a warning.
VASSA: “She’s a feisty little thing, isn’t she?”
JOHNSON: “She may be but the official doesn’t seem to care for that illegal use of the ropes.”
VASSA: “I wish the officials around here would lighten up a bit. This isn’t the kiddie pool, this is the deep end and we’re up to our necks in talent. Let these professionals rip each other apart!”
JOHNSON: “There’s a time and place for everything, Steve. A standard rules match is definitely not the place for illegal moves and shenanigans.”
Acting innocent and flirtatious with the official, Rorie bats her eyes while sticking out her bottom lips. The official then steps out of the way to look back at Bradley and as he does, the innocent look on Rorie’s face quickly disappears as she smirks with confidence. Bradley then proceeds to the center of the ring and waves for Rorie to approach him. The two then circle each other briefly before Bradley shoots in and takes her down to the canvas with a single leg takedown. He then crawls on top of Rorie to mount her but before he can secure his position, Rorie reaches up and rakes his eyes, hidden by the official only being able to see the back of Bradley’s head. She then grabs his head with both hands and rolls him off to the side, leaving him on his back, blinded and rubbing his eyes.
Back on her feet, Rorie leaps into the air and comes down on his chest with a double foot stomp. Instead of stepping down, she then drops onto his body and mounts him. Grabbing Bradley by the head with both hands, she then lifts his head up from the canvas and quickly slams it back down, crushing it against the mat. With Bradley seeing stars, Rorie then unloads with a combination of lefts and rights, raining down on his head with a fury of punches. She then stands to her feet and quickly pulls him up by the arm before locking in a side headlock. With Bradley’s head secured by the hold, Rorie then walks towards the corner, dragging him along with her. Once within range, Rorie steps up onto the middle rope, turns her direction and leaps towards the center of the ring. Bringing Bradley along for the ride, Rorie plants his head into the mat with a bulldog. She then rolls him over to his back before going for the quick pin.
ONE
.
.
TW–
JOHNSON: “Bradley kicks out!”
VASSA: “Rorie was looking to end things quickly but it’s obviously going to take a little more than that to put Bradley away for good.”
Looking up to the official, Rorie argues the count before pushing herself up away from Bradley. After arguing with the official for a few moments, Rorie then turns her attention back to Bradley who has now gotten up to one knee. Waiting patiently, Rorie looks on as Bradley slowly gets to both feet. Once he does, she charges in and races right past him towards the ropes. Coming back on the rebound, Rorie leaps into the air, wraps her legs around Bradley’s head and sends him flying across the ring with a spinning headscissors. After coming to complete stop after rolling in front of the ropes, Bradley pushes himself up but as soon as he looks up, Rorie is right there to greet him with a hard right to the side of the head. She then locks onto his wrist and whips him to the corner across the ring.
After crashing into the corner, Bradley’s feet raise up from the mat and as they touch down, Rorie takes off and charges towards him. Closing in, Rorie does a somersault handspring and after rotating her body to an upright position, she connects with a back elbow, nearly taking off Bradley’s head. Stepping out of the way, Rorie looks on as Bradley stumbles out of the corner. She then runs past him once more to the ropes in front and after coming back with momentum, she spears him in the center of the ring.
VASSA: “Holy shit!”
JOHNSON: “Rorie might be wrapping things up here.”
With Bradley laid out in the center of the ring, Rorie stands to her feet and looks over the crowd momentarily, blowing them a kiss. She then hops over Bradley and runs to the ropes. Flipping over to a handstand, Rorie bounces off the ropes with her legs and comes back down to her feet. She then does a backflip and lands a perfectly executed shining star press.
VASSA: “That was amazing!”
JOHNSON: “It’s the Frankensteele! She’s going for the pin!”
Hooking Bradley’s leg, Rorie goes for the pin as the official slides in from the other side of the ring.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!
VASSA: “This one is in the books!”
JOHNSON: “She’s done it! Rorie Steele has won the match.”
VASSA: “Not only did she win it but she did it with ease.”
“Sex Metal Barbie” hits the speakers as Rorie stands to her feet.
DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!
The official then steps in beside her and raises her arm into the air as she looks over the crowd.
POWERS: “Here is your winner by pinfall, RORIE SSTTEEEELLEE!!!”
Ripping her arm away from the official, Rorie walks to the nearby corner and ascends to the top to look over the crowd once more, blowing them a seductive kiss.

After cutting away from the ring, the scene opens up inside of a large private office. The furniture is leather, a mini-fridge sits in the corner with a bar above it, stocked with various liquors. A large flat screen television hangs on the wall above a leather sofa where the one and only, the lovely and seductive, Kaysie Sherell sits. Dressed to perfection, she sits alone. Across the room, Perry Wallace sits behind a desk with Tommy Knox sitting across from him, lounged back in his chair with a foot propped up onto the desk.
WALLACE: “Lucky for you this isn’t my personal furniture in here, so I don’t give a shit where you place your feet.”
Laughing softly, Knox reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bag, tossing it onto the desk in front of Wallace.
KNOX: “I don’t see you complainin’ about this so don’t start complainin’ about shit that you don’t even own.”
With a smile on his face, Wallace picks up the bag and scans it over before opening it up and taking a deep breath as he sticks his nose into it.
WALLACE: “About damn time, Tommy. I’ve been out since lunch and for some odd reason you weren’t answering your phone earlier.”
KNOX: “Maybe you should call me before you fire up your last joint. I’m no professional or anything but that would be the smarter thing to do. One day you’re goin’ to wait until the last minute and I’m not going to be in town. Then what? You’re goin’ to be stuck with the type of trash that Shitiva slangs in AC.”
WALLACE: “That’s about all Caitlyn Jenner is doing in that toilet of a city.”
The two share a laugh before Knox reaches for an empty glass and half full bottle of scotch on the desk. He pours himself a glass, almost filling it up entirely.
KNOX: “So while I’m here, I wanted to ask you something.”
WALLACE: “I’m listening.”
KNOX: “How is the muscle workin’ out for you? I know they’re watchin’ your back here at the show but I heard that you now even have a few standin’ guard outside of your hotel rooms, mainly the suite back in Vegas.”
WALLACE: “I do as a matter of fact. With Unstable running loose around here, I’m a wanted man. Hell, Cy turned his back to me. Now he’s spreading lies about my involvement in Aidan’s kidnapping. It’s getting to the point now where I don’t know who to trust.”
KNOX: “Hold on a second, Aidan’s kidnappin’? You mean when Dakota snatched her? How did you have a hand in that?”
Wallace pauses for a moment before answering. He grabs his glass from the desk and takes a drink. Licking his lips clean, Wallace then clears his throat while placing the glass back onto the desk.
WALLACE: “I didn’t, that’s why I said he was spreading lies about me. Having them around on guard makes me feel a little safer. I don’t trust any of those fucks in Unstable but I don’t know how far they’ll go to get to me either. So I’m just playing it safe.”
KNOX: “Playin’ it safe? You know that isn’t goin’ to come cheap, right?”
WALLACE: “I know, I know, I got you. The money isn’t a concern. It’s the piece of mind.”
KNOX: “So what do you have planned for Unstable?”
Wallace thinks to himself for a moment before answering, not really sure what to think of Knox’s question.
WALLACE: “That’s for me to know. Back to this bag right here. I’ve been meaning to mention something to you about the last few batches.”
KNOX: “Yes?”
WALLACE: “I don’t have any scales to check them but my eyes tell me that they’ve been getting smaller and smaller but yet I’m paying the same price each and every time.”
KNOX: “You should get your eyes checked, old man. My shit is always on point. Good swerve in changin’ the subject though.”
Knox then finishes off the almost full glass of scotch before slamming it onto the desk. He then places his foot on the side of the desk and pushes himself away from the desk, sliding across the floor. Standing to his feet, Knox looks around the room for a bit before eyeing Kaysie sitting on the couch all by herself.
KNOX: “You can do better.”
Knox then turns and heads for the door. After opening it and stepping halfway through, he suddenly stops before looking back to Wallace.
KNOX: “Let me know if you need anything, or don’t. Maybe you’ll have something that isn’t just for you to know. Since you have things under wraps, you don’t even need these guys standing guard outside your door, right?”
WALLACE: “Actually I do but thanks for asking. I hope you brought more of this weed with you because I’m going to need at least another bag or two before I head back to Vegas. Me and Kaysie are going to party it up after the show tonight.”
KNOX: “Have fun with that. Good luck, Kaysie.”
WALLACE: “Wait a second!”
KNOX: “What?”
WALLACE: “How do I know that I can trust you? After all, you’re friends with those Unstable pieces of shit.”
KNOX: “You don’t really. I have ties to Cashe and Madison, that’s where it ends. I’m not associated with Unstable. This arrangement with you and the muscle out here is strictly business. Trust or believe what you want, I honestly don’t give a fuck.”
Knox then exits the office before the door quickly closes behind him, leaving Kaysie and Wallace alone but secure from the outside world. Wallace sits behind the desk, dumbfounded and at a loss for words as the scene slowly fades out.

We cut to the backstage area, where we see Bryan Williams finally showing up to the arena! He’s carrying his luggage behind him, looking a bit tired and worse for the wear. A giant bandage covers his head, protecting his forehead from the battle scars from last week. Bryan sees the cameraman, and snarls, aware of what is to come soon enough.
WILLIAMS: “Come on, guys. Give me a break here. I JUST got into the city a hour ago.
Bryan tries to continue forward, to head towards his locker room. The cameraman doesn’t move, prompting Bryan to sigh.
WILLIAMS: “Really, is this what we’re going to do?”
Bryan sighs again, turning around to reveal Gabriel Hartman standing there. With a big smile on his face, and a microphone in his hands, Bryan knows what is coming next. He drops his bags to the floor, preparing himself for the interview.
HARTMAN: “Bryan, welcome. Glad you could take this time with me.”
WILLIAMS: “Don’t even start with me, Hartman. This was a damn set-up, and you know it!”
Hartman smiles, slowly shaking his head.
HARTMAN: “Hey, look, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just wanted to talk about a few things, if you don’t mind.”
Bryan tries to feign a smile. It doesn’t go very well.
WILLIAMS: “Sure, go right ahead.”
HARTMAN: “Fantastic! So look, you had a brutal match at Holiday Bonus last week. This week you’re stepping into the ring with Lord Raab, in an Extreme Rules match. Do you think you’ve put yourself into a bad spot now?”
WILLIAMS: “What do you mean, exactly?”
HARTMAN: “Healthwise, remember you’re going to have to defend those tag titles at Winter Wasteland. Matches like these take a toll out of you, and you’re already hurt!”
WILLIAMS: “That’s fair, good point. But I think I’ve gotten enough rest for my shoulder to be well, we’re gonna do a few things to ensure that it stays fine. After I finish Raab tonight, I can very much take it easy.”
HARTMAN: “Are you worried about who might take that open challenge, for your title?”
WILLIAMS: “Not in the slightest, there’s a reason why Aidan and myself were voted TAG TEAM OF THE YEAR here in 4CW. We’re the best this company has, and there’s nobody that can stop us.”
Bryan shoots Hartman, and the cameraman a look.
WILLIAMS: “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get some things taken care of. I’m also going to watch my brother kick my former brother’s ass.”
And like that, Bryan leaves the scene as quickly as he showed up. Leaving Hartman, and the cameraman to look for their next victim.

UNDERCARD
EXTREME RULES
DARRYL WALLACE VS. CYRUS RIDDLE
POWERS: “The following contest will fall under 4CW’s Extreme Rules!”
“Window” by Let Go plays as the arena pulses with white light along with the guitar riff. As the opening line begins Darryl walks through the curtain with a focused and determined look on his face.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring first, from the Open Road, weighing in at two hundred and sixty-five pounds… ‘Dirty’ Darryl WWAALLLLAACCEE!!!”
Darryl stands at the ready bouncing back and forth loosening up. As the Chorus begins he puts his hands up in a boxing pose and throws a few shadow punches before pulling his arms back like a window is opening and pushes his face forward with a goofy smile. He walks towards the ring with a smile, slapping hands and posing for selfies with fans before sliding into the ring. He stands at the center of the ring, spinning in circles with his arms in the air, hands balled into fists. After about three rotations he stops and shakes his head to try to cancel out being dizzy.
POWERS: “And the opponent!”
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: “And his opponent, hailing from London, England and weighing in at two hundred twenty eight pounds… he is ‘The Archetype,’ ‘The Epitome of Excellence…’ Cyrus RRIIDDDDLLEE!!!”
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.
JOHNSON: “Well, if the words between these two over the past weeks have been any indication, this match is going to be a bloodbath.”
VASSA: “God I hope so!”
JOHNSON: “And here with us is Aidan Carlisle. She said that she wanted to be ringside for the match, but apparently she will be joining us on commentary.”
CARLISLE: “Of course I will. Do you really think people would rather listen to you two when they could be hearing 4CW’s Alpha Bitch? Ratings spiked the moment I sat down.”
JOHNSON: “If I might ask, Aidan, what does your interest in this match lie? Early on you seemed to favor Darryl Wallace, but that changed after—”
CARLISLE: “Sometimes I lose interest in holding on to a lie, Steve, what can I say? It’s not my fault that Darryl decided to take it personally that I know Cyrus is better than he is.”
JOHNSON: “So, are you supporting Cyrus Riddle, then?”
CARLISLE: “Are you going to call the match or just interrogate me? I’m here to watch some bloodsport, not to answer to you.”
VASSA: “Yeah, why are you always so rude to our guests, Steve?”
JOHNSON: “I’m not being rude, I think the fans want to know if Aidan has changed her mind about Unstable as a credible team.”
CARLISLE: “Shut up, Johnson. Calling them a credible or team is just like them butt-chugging each other’s vaginal discharge and pretending it’s dinner.”
VASSA: “Does that answer your question, Steve? Can the match start now?”
The official checks with both corners before signaling for the bell.
DING!!! DING!!!
While Darryl rushes from his corner with a vengeance, Cyrus stalks methodically forward. As Wallace lunges at full force for a big lariat, Riddle sidesteps at the last second and nails him with a jumping high knee to the chest that hits so hard it echoes! Cyrus grabs Darryl by the wrist and yanks him to his feet, holding on for a short-arm clothesline. Wallace manages to break free and plants his palms on Riddle’s chest, throwing him up into the air and then catching him on the back of his shoulders for a pop up Samoan drop!
Cyrus is back on his feet just as Darryl hits the ropes and comes back at him. Once again sidestepping just before impact, Riddle catches Wallace and scoops him up, dropping Darryl onto his knee for a pendulum backbreaker! Wallace holds his spine in pain, but rolls away without giving Riddle time to capitalize on his grounded position.
Darryl surges to his feet just as Cyrus is starting to lean over to pull him up, wrapping Riddle up and heaving him over to the mat with a German suplex! Each scrambles to his feet at the same time. Riddle charges in, and right into a big boot from Wallace! Cyrus stumbles backward and Darryl closes in to press the advantage. The moment he’s close enough Wallace finds him self on the receiving end of a big European uppercut!
“One!”
A second drives him back!
“Two!”
Riddle holds up his two fingered salute toward the crowd before curling them down into a fist and driving Wallace into the corner with another shot!
“Three!”
JOHNSON: “Darryl and Cyrus both looking strong so far. Each has taken some hard shots, but neither seems to be phased.”
VASSA: “Where’s the weapons?! Where’s the blood?! This is an Extreme Rules match, I want to see some Extreme!”
JOHNSON: “Calm down, Vinny. We’re just getting started. Wallace and Riddle both promised blood, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll get it.”
VASSA: “Look at me, Steve. I could have a heart attack and die at any second. If I do, I want the last thing I see to be one of those two in a puddle of blood! …Or maybe what’s under Aidan’s shirt.”
JOHNSON: “Vinny!”
CARLISLE: “Open your mouth again, Fat Boy, and you’ll spend the next two months with it wired shut.”
VASSA: “It’s not fat, it’s power.”
The audience’s boos are deafening as Cyrus backs across the ring and sprints in for a running dropkick right to Darryl’s chest. Wallace is crushed against the turnbuckles for a moment before falling out of the corner to the canvas. Riddle stalks a slow arch around his opponent, using his foot to shove Darryl over onto his back, before abruptly dropping a knee right into his ribs.
Wallace grunts from the impact and holds his side with one hand. Cyrus is hardly done, moving to the other side with a quickness and hitting a knee drop to the center of Darryl’s chest. Darryl is left holding his side and his sternum from the two hard strikes, leaving him wide open when Riddle drops the third knee right across the bridge of his nose! Wallace covers his face with both hands as he finally rolls away, and the crowd’s jeering of Cyrus grows louder yet.
Darryl gets to his feet, and when his hands come away from his face, blood is streaming from his nose! Wallace glares daggers across the ring at Riddle, but as his own blood runs over his lips his tongue darts out to taste it. A little grin spreading across his face. His usually blinding white teeth are stained crimson, to macabre effect.
VASSA: “It’s about damn time someone started bleeding!”
JOHNSON: “Darryl could have a broken nose, Vinny, it’s no laughing matter.”
VASSA: “Well apparently it is, Steve, because Darryl is laughing.”
After circling each other once, the two lock up in the middle of the ring. They battle back and forth, but it’s Darryl who breaks loose first. He hooks Cyrus up and drills him headfirst into the canvas with a snap DDT. Wallace is on his feet in a flash and drives his size sixteen boot right into Riddle’s gut. He stomps away at Riddle’s stomach and chest. Finally, he places his foot right across Cyrus’ throat and grabs the top rope for extra leverage as he chokes his opponent. He pulls his other foot up off of the mat, standing right across Riddle’s neck with all of his weight!!!
Cyrus grabs his leg and tries to pry it off, having no success. Changing tactics, Riddle drives a fist right into Wallace’s hamstring again and again until the repeated blows make the muscle cramp up and Darryl is forced to release the choke. Cyrus holds his throat as he uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet with the other hand. Wallace shakes his leg out, testing the muscle once before he throws himself back at Riddle, and right into a back elbow that knocks him to the mat! Blood drips off of the back of Cyrus’ arm as he moves to stand over Darryl.
Taking the leg he had just been working on, Riddle steps over and falls to the canvas, cinching down an Indian deathlock! Wallace grunts in pain and the blood on his face splatters over the mat as he shakes his head from side to side. The official kneels beside the pair, keeping a close watch and asking Darryl if he wants to submit. Wallace indicates a vehement “no” with his head and curls his hands into fists.
JOHNSON: “It is literally raining blood in the ring every time Darryl whips his head around like that.”
CARLISLE: “Mmm.”
VASSA: “Make that sound again.”
CARLISLE: “Seriously, fucknuts, one more word and you’re going to be deep throating that microphone like you’re trying to get inducted into Unstable.”
Wallace stretches his arms toward the ropes, which are just out of his reach. Planting his elbows firmly on the mat, he heaves with all his strength, hoping to use his greater weight in his favor. He makes some progress, to which Cyrus immediately releases the hold and leans over to try to drag him away. Darryl throws him off with a kick and gets to his feet. Wallace goes for a stiff clothesline, but Riddle ducks and grabs his arm and sends him toward the ropes with an Irish whip.
Darryl hooks his arms over the ropes to bring himself up short and the incoming dropkick from Cyrus is met with nothing but air! Riddle falls to the mat with a thud and Wallace cackles down at his opponent. Darryl strides forward and sends a kick right at Cyrus’ head as the other man is getting to his knees. Riddle manages to catch his leg before impact, but Wallace whips around with an enziguri that catches him on the temple! Riddle catches himself on his hands and knees on the mat without going all the way down. Wallace stalks forward, right into a tackle from Riddle that drives him into the ropes! With a big clothesline, Riddle sends him over the top and tumbling to the floor below!!!
As soon as Darryl stands Cyrus comes flying between the ropes with a suicide dive! The impact drives Wallace back and both men collide with the announcer’s booth. Their combined weight is enough to shove the entire table back! Vassa manages to roll his chair out of the way and Johnson hops up onto the barricade behind him rather quickly for an old man, but the displaced table crushes Aidan back into the barrier! She snarls and rips the headset off, slamming it down on the table before trying to leverage the booth off of herself with no success, having Darryl’s weight still against the other side.
Riddle sneers wickedly as he gets to his feet and takes in the sight. Making sure Darryl is staying down, he stalks in closer, dodging a wild punch thrown in his direction from the Alpha Bitch. He snatches her by the hair and yanks her forward out of the chair and half way over the table even in spite of the weight of it trapping her. His other hand plunges into her jacket, feeling around with determined focus.
JOHNSON: “What is Cyrus doing?!”
VASSA: “Exactly what I’ve been fantasizing about doing all night, but she would have broken my hand if I tried.”
JOHNSON: “Dammit, Vinny, stop being disrespectful! That is one of our Tag Team Champions!”
For a moment a quizzical look crosses Cyrus’ face as he doesn’t find what he’s after. His hand withdraws from Carlisle’s jacket and his fingers drum on the table beside her for a moment. Smirking then, he reaches farther back and slides his hand into the back pocket of her ring gear. Aidan is just close enough to the headset on the table that the string of expletives she hurls in his direction is entirely audible.
Riddle chuckles, coming back with the knife he had been searching for in her pocket. With a second thought, he gives her a hard slap on the ass and makes a little kissing motion in her direction just as Darryl has started to get to his feet. With a departing patronizing pat to Aidan’s head, he flicks open the switchblade as he rounds on Wallace, holding it up in the space between them.
Wallace pauses as he looks at the knife, but Riddle just continues to sneer. He brings the tip of the blade to the center of his chest where there is already a scar and presses it in, running it right down the pale line of flesh to slice himself open. The blood runs down over his abdominal muscles and drips onto the floor as his head tilts back and his eyes roll, savoring the sensation. Darryl takes the opening and surges forward with a spear tackle. Cyrus opens his eyes just in time to see it coming, tossing the blade aside as they hit the ground.
JOHNSON: “You can’t bring a knife to a wrestling match!!!”
VASSA: “Who says, Steve? This is an Extreme Rules match. Which means there are no rules!”
JOHNSON: “There are lines, Vinny, and that is crossing the line.”
VASSA: “Well you go ahead and look up where it says anything in the match stipulations about crossing lines and show it to me.”
Riddle and Wallace tumble across the thin padding that covers the ground, Darryl coming up on top. He lays into Cyrus with a barrage of punches to the face, fists flying again and again. When it seems that Riddle will stay down for a moment or two. Wallace moves toward the ring. He flings the apron covering up and digs beneath, drawing out a chair. Standing over Cyrus, he lifts the chair high over is head, bringing it crashing down with all of his strength, right onto the ground! Riddle rolls out of the way at the last second!
Darryl moves fast and brings the chair down again, this time catching Cyrus across the back with a huge CRACK!!! Riddle’s shoulders arch back in pain and Wallace swings the chair into him again! And again! The metal is starting to bend slightly by the forth strike. Before he can bring it crashing down a fifth time, Cyrus rolls right under the ring! Darryl starts to go after him, but thinks better of it, knowing he might end up walking into a trap.
Moving away from the ring, Darryl instead stalks over the announcer’s booth. He grabs the small trash can next to it and yanks out the plastic bag. From the bottom he draws out a container of salt that had been hidden previously! Spotting movement on the opposite side of the ring from the one Riddle had disappeared under, Wallace is there just in time to catch Cyrus as he emerges! Darryl pulls open the spout and pours the salt right into the bleeding wound on Riddle’s chest!
JOHNSON: “Oh that’s just vile!”
VASSA: “Isn’t it great?! Darryl’s clearly been doing some planning over the last few days! I wonder what else he’s got in store for Cyrus, and what Cyrus has in mind for Darryl, for that matter!”
CARLISLE: “Murder, weren’t you paying attention? It wasn’t hyperbole.”
JOHNSON: “So… what, you are on Cyrus’ side?”
CARLISLE: “Do you have a dick in your ear, Johnson? Knowing that he means what he said doesn’t equivocate to ‘being on his side.’ I still think he’s an over-compensating, attention-seeking, crumpet-fucking piece of shit that spends his nights getting pegged by the rest of his Unable cock-cronies.”
Cyrus finally fires back, tripping Darryl up with a drop toe hold to give himself time to stand. He yanks Wallace up by the back of the head and drives him face first into the ring post! Riddle pivots around to the other side of the corner as a dizzy Darryl turns. In a flash Wallace suddenly snaps back against the post and his fingers scrabble at his neck. Cyrus has his piano wire in hand and is choking Darryl around the post!
The Archetype’s bleeding chest heaves and his eyes roll into his head as he tightens down with the weapon. He leans back so that his body weight goes into the pressure on the piano wire around Wallace’s throat. Darryl continues to struggle even as his eyes start to lose focus from the lack of oxygen. Finally, in a last-ditch effort, Wallace throws a handful of salt over his shoulder and right into the eyes of Riddle!!!
Cyrus releases one end of the wire to wipe at his eyes and a very red-faced Darryl falls forward to the floor, coughing and sputtering as he tries to breathe. Riddle snatches a bottle of water from one of the audience members and pours it over his face to wash away the salt. Wallace keeps an eye on his opponent over his shoulder as he shoves an arm under the ring, searching blindly for one of the objects beneath.
Cyrus shakes the water off of his faces, tosses the bottle into the crowd, and stalks forward after Darryl. Just as he closes in Wallace’s arm retracts from under the ring and comes up holding a hockey stick! The end of the stick collides with the side of Cyrus’ head with a resounding SMACK!!! Darryl gets to his feet as the other man stumbles back into the barricade. Maneuvering around behind Riddle, Wallace uses the curve of the stick, hooking it around Cyrus’ throat and yanking him backward off of his feet!
Darryl backs up just a step to give himself room, turning his body perpendicular to Cyrus’ and lining up the hockey stick like he’s about to make a slap shot, using Riddle’s head for a puck! Wallace takes a few practice swings before settling into place for the strike. He hauls back as far as he can reach and swings the hockey stick as hard as he can right at Riddle’s head! Cyrus rolls onto his side at the last moment and the stick catches him between the shoulders with a CRACK instead of on the skull!!!
JOHNSON: “A very close call for Cyrus Riddle. If he had taken that shot to the head, I think it would have been all over.”
VASSA: “For once, I have to agree with you. Whether or not you believe Darryl’s twisted mind is on the same level as Cyrus,’ you can’t argue his strength. That hit would have been devastating.”
JOHNSON: “It still was, even if Wallace didn’t get his intended target.”
With a huge, stinging red mark emblazoned between his shoulder blades and still slightly dazed from the first shot to the head, Cyrus pulls himself up using the ring apron. Riddle ducks just in time to avoid another incoming shot from the hockey stick and catches Wallace right on the chin with a Yakuza kick! As Darryl goes down, Cyrus drops back to his knees, flipping the apron cover up and beginning to pull objects out from underneath the ring. Out comes a table first, then a chair. A barbed-wire wrapped two-by-four, a baseball bat, a length of pipe, a kendo stick…
CARLISLE: “Am I the only one who wonders why all this shit is always under the ring? I’ve never brought all that out and put it there before a match, with a few small exceptions. Why the hell are there tables under the ring? When has there ever been a buffet line set up at ringside?”
JOHNSON: “Well, actually, for Vinny’s birthday last year…”
Riddle grabs the table from the pile and picks it up, moving it around to the side of the ring at the bottom of the aisle and begins unfolding the legs. He checks over his shoulder frequently to make sure that Wallace hasn’t gotten back up yet. As Cyrus gets the leg supports locked in place and sets the table upright, Darryl has just started to stir. Riddle slides into the ring under the bottom rope and Wallace does the same from the other side of the ring after tossing the barbed-wire wrapped two-by-four in ahead of himself.
Darryl manages to make it to his feet first and drives Cyrus face first down onto the mat with a stomp between the shoulders, right where he had hit with the hockey stick! Wallace follows up with a knee drop to the spine and then goes for the two-by-four! Raising the barbed-wire wrapped weapon over his head, he swings it down into Riddle’s back at full force, the barbs tearing Cyrus open and leaving his back bleeding!!! Riddle leaves a red trail across the mat as he rolls away, stopping on his back. Wallace is right on top of him, grabbing either end of the wooden plank and going to drive the wire down into Riddle’s face!
Cyrus gets his hands up just in time and grabs on to the two-by-four as well, muscling to push the wire away from his face. Riddle leverages the board almost all the way back up to Wallace’s face before Darryl throws more weight behind it, leaning down hard over the weapon and his opponent. Cyrus’ arms slowly start to bend, the barbs getting closer and closer to his face! The sounds of both men straining are audible as they fight for control of the weapon. With a last, hard shove, Wallace presses the wire down into Riddle’s face, raking it back and forth until the barbed-wire leaves Cyrus’ forehead bleeding!!!
Darryl stands up, eyeing both Riddle and the weapon in his hand. After a moment he looks up to Aidan, grinning through the blood still running from his nose. With a crude little thrust of his hips in her direction, Wallace brings the barbed wire to his own face and runs his tongue over it, licking at Riddle’s blood. Finally, he tosses the two-by-four aside and turns toward the nearest corner.
VASSA: “I think that might have been a challenge, Aidan. You should hop in the ring and get on top of him, really show him who’s boss.”
There is a resounding THUD and a few seconds of feedback from the headset as Aidan reaches out and grabs the back of Vassa’s head, slamming him face first down onto the table.
JOHNSON: “Vinny!!!”
CARLISLE: “He’ll be fine.”
JOHNSON: “You’re bleeding, Vinny!”
VASSA: “I could have a concussion! Head trauma! …Quick get a piano and see if I can play now! OW! Don’t touch it!!!”
Darryl slowly stands up on top of the third turnbuckle, facing outward toward the crowd. He throws his arms out to either side, beckoning for the audience to get louder, which they automatically do. Cyrus has quietly gotten to his feet without Wallace noticing and throws a chop block into the back of one of Darryl’s legs! Darryl goes down hard on the turnbuckle and Riddle hops over the top rope to the outside.
Cyrus climbs up to stand on the middle turnbuckle, hooking up Darryl and starting to lift him up. Wallace throws a stiff punch into Riddle’s ribs, causing him to buckle for a moment. Cyrus retaliates with a forearm to Darryl’s face. Grabbing Wallace’s trunks, Riddle forces him to stand and then lifts him up into the air! Darryl struggles, but Cyrus keeps his hold and hits a brainbuster from the turnbuckles through the table that he had set up earlier!!!
The table splinters and wood flies everywhere, small pieces sticking in the skin of both men. For a long while the two just lay there in the rubble, barely moving. Having had Darryl’s body to break a very minimal part of his fall, Cyrus is the first to start trying to get up. Riddle brushes broken pieces of table away and drags himself out of the twisted bits of metal framing, collapsing back against the steel stairs and leaning against them heavily as he sits to recover.
Wallace pulls himself in the opposite direction, the fragmented wood leaving little scratches along his sides as he does. Digging deep into his reserve strength, somehow Darryl gets a foot under himself, starting to stand! The crowd cheers, encouraging him to get up. Using the motivation from the audience Wallace forces himself up and sprints through the debris of the table, hitting a low dropkick right to Cyrus’ chest and crushing him against the ring steps!
The blood starts pour anew from the self-inflicted wound on Riddle’s chest, coating his hand as he clutches his sternum from the impact. His other hand presses to the top of the stairs to help push himself up. Wallace is already back on his feet, charging in at full speed toward Cyrus for a burning lariat! Riddle catches him as they collide and reverses into a side effect… Right on top of the steel stairs!!!
VASSA: “Oh my god!!! Did you hear Wallace hit those stairs?! It echoed!”
JOHNSON: “How was Darryl even up and moving at all after going through that table?!”
VASSA: “He wants to destroy Cyrus Riddle for turning on his family, that’s a lot of motivation to keep going.”
JOHNSON: “That’s a fair point, Vinny. Riddle did hit Darryl’s father and 4CW Owner Perry Wallace over the head with a chair. I may not agree with the methods he displayed over the past week, but it’s hard to fault Darryl for standing up for his family.”
CARLISLE: “Maybe Darryl shouldn’t be such a big pussy and figure out that not everything is black and white.”
JOHNSON: “What’s that supposed to mean?”
CARLISLE: “That so-called ‘family’ spent all its time ridiculing Riddle’s choices and some of the people he cared about. Maybe they got what they deserved.”
JOHNSON: “Isn’t Perry paying you to go after Unstable?”
CARLISLE: “Yes he is.”
JOHNSON: “Yet you seem to agree with Unstable?”
CARLISLE: “Not at all, the entire gaggle of monkey fuckers can go throw themselves down an elevator shaft.”
VASSA: “Do you even know whose side you are on?”
CARLISLE: “I know precisely what side I am on, and that side is mine. It’s not my problem you two can’t figure that out. Now shut up, Cyrus is getting back in the ring.”
Sure enough, Riddle rolls into the ring under the bottom rope. For several seconds he just lays there on his back, chest heaving, trying to catch his breath while blood continues to run over his chest and face. Finally, he stands and moves to the abandoned barbed-wire wrapped two-by-four. He holds the wooden “handle” in his left hand and begins to unwrap the barbed wire from the other end with his right. The look on his face as he keeps his eyes directed toward where Darryl is laying is equal parts methodical and sadistic while he ignores the barbs tearing at his palm to free the wire.
Outside the ring Wallace is lying against the barricade. He reaches up and grasps the top, trying to pull himself up. The blood covering his hand causes him to slip on the first attempt. Twisting his knees beneath himself, he grabs the barrier with both hands and tries a second time, managing to get is feet planted on the floor. As he stands, he stumbles back into the side of the ring, catching himself before he can fall again.
Cyrus leans over the top rope and loops the barbed-wire around Darryl’s neck!!! Riddle twists the wire around several times to make it harder for Wallace to escape before dropping down all the way into a sitting position in the ring, lifting Darryl clear off of the ground! Cyrus then wedges the handle of the two-by-four between the ropes where it locks into place from the counter-balance of Wallace’s own weight!
Grinning ruthlessly, Riddle rolls back out of the ring. He looks to the pile of goodies he had pulled out earlier and picks up the length of pipe. Flipping it over once in his hand, he turns his attention back to Wallace. The crowd boos and jeers at a deafening level as Cyrus swings the pipe into the ribs of the dangling Darryl!!!
JOHNSON: “Cyrus Riddle is hanging Darryl with barbed-wire from the side of the ring!!! Someone do something! I can smell the blood from here!”
CARLISLE: “NO! Let it flow. It smells like paradise.”
VASSA: “There’s nothing to be done, Steve. Cyrus is using the rules of the match to his advantage. He’s well within the stipulations.”
JOHNSON: “But it’s still supposed to be a match, not murder!”
CARLISLE: “Says who?”
VASSA: “Yeah, says who?”
JOHNSON: “I can’t believe you two! Are you actually enjoying this?”
CARLISLE: “You have no idea.”
Wallace’s feet flail as he tries to reach the ground to take the pressure off of the barbs biting into his neck. Riddle sneers as he mocks Wallace, shouting at him, “How evil are you now?!” before driving the end of the pipe into Darryl’s gut. “How evil are you now, Darryl?” Cyrus swings the pipe again, this time into the ribs on the opposite side with a dull THUD!
As Riddle goes for another shot, Wallace lifts his legs up and wraps them around Cyrus’ neck. It takes just enough weight off of the two-by-four that it comes free of the ropes! Darryl drops backwards and whips Cyrus over to the barely padded floor with a frankensteiner! Wasting no time, Wallace quickly unwraps the barbed-wire from his neck, blood running down his skin from all sides.
Darryl grabs the hockey stick from where it had been abandoned on the floor and swings it down into Cyrus’ ribs with a SMACK that echoes through the arena. He hauls back and hits a second shot! And a third! Wallace raises the stick up all the way over his head, screaming down at Riddle as he sends it slicing through the air toward Cyrus’ face! Riddle gets his arms up at the last second, the pipe still in his hands, and the length of metal catches the blow from the hockey stick! The stick breaks and shards fly everywhere!
Darryl tosses the handle aside and grabs the next closest thing; the two-by-four, now with most of the barbed-wire unwound and trailing along behind it. He brings the wooden plank down right on Riddle’s back as he tries to roll out of the way. Cyrus snarls in pain, spine arching sharply. Wallace raises the board and swings again, the impact making another huge SMACK that can be heard even over the crowd. The audience is egging him on.
“ONE MORE TIME!!! ONE MORE TIME!!! ONE MORE TIME!!!”
Darryl rolls his neck from side to side before lifting the two-by-four up over his head. It comes crashing down across Riddle’s back once again, finally breaking and splintering from the repeated blows. Wallace tosses it aside and, finally, after a few moments of consideration, drops for a pin.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THR—KICKOUT!!!
JOHNSON: “Oh my god, Cyrus kicked out! After that brutal assault he still managed to get the shoulder up!!!”
Darryl pounds his fists against the floor once in rage as he fails to put Cyrus away again. Riddle is already getting to his feet, and as Wallace charges him he trips him with a drop toe hold! Instead of capitalizing, Riddle leaves him there on the floor and stalks over to where the barricade makes a corner. A black tarp is covering an object there, everyone having assumed it was a piece of equipment. As Cyrus whips back the tarp it is finally revealed to be… a toilet?!
Riddle moves back to Darryl, grabbing him by the hair. He drags him across the floor and over the the porcelain fixture. With a two-fingered salute with his free hand to the booing audience, he shoves Wallace’s face right into the toilet! Water sloshes everywhere as Darryl tries to free himself from the hold and the drowning hazard.
Cyrus laughs maniacally as he watches his opponent struggle and soaks in the crowd’s growing hatred. After several more seconds he draws Wallace’s head back, giving him just long enough to gasp for air before shoving his face back into the water in the toilet. Darryl’s hands flail, he finds the handle and tries to flush the water away, but nothing happens. Naturally, the toilet isn’t actually attached to any plumbing out in the middle of the arena floor.
Riddle continues to hold Wallace’s head in the water, longer and longer until it starts to become apparent that he doesn’t have any intention of bringing him back up for air!
JOHNSON: “Come on! Someone has to stop this! Perry Wallace has to stop this! He can’t just let Cyrus drown his son right here on live television! Fight Darryl, fight!”
VASSA: “Perry Wallace has hired personal security and Art of War to keep himself safe from Unstable. Do you really think he’s going to muster up the balls to come out here and intervene?”
JOHNSON: “Aidan, put an end to this! Do something! No matter what you feel about either Darryl or Cyrus, you can’t actually sit there and let this happen, can you?!”
CARLISLE: “Not my place to interfere.”
JOHNSON: “What do you mean it’s not your place, Perry hired you!!!”
CARLISLE: “Wallace very specifically hired me to go after Unstable and protect him. The contract does not extend to anyone else, nor does it specify when or where I can choose to collect my heads.”
VASSA: “There you go, Steve. The mean bitch has a point.”
JOHNSON: “You two are unbelievable!!!”
Darryl’s hand comes up off of the floor, something in his grasp catching the overhead lights. He swings backwards, right into Cyrus’ leg! Riddle screams and stumbles back, letting go of Wallace’s head. Darryl rolls over onto the floor and gasps for air. The object in his hand becomes apparent as the switchblade that Cyrus had tossed aside earlier after cutting his own chest open!
Cyrus snarls and glares at Darryl as he checks his leg. As Riddle yanks his knee pad down there is a bleeding cut, but it seems as though the worst of it was caught by the pad! A dripping, enraged Wallace throws the knife aside as he surges forward and tackles Riddle. He throws punch after punch into Cyrus’ already bleeding face, sending little red droplets flying in all directions, including across the announcer’s table.
Riddle finally manages to catch Wallace’s arm and throws him off. Darryl is incensed and is back on Cyrus in a flash, yanking him to his feet and hooking him in a front facing three-quarter facelock. Wallace drags Riddle along as he runs across the floor, finally bulldogging him right onto the twisted, discarded chair that he had beaten Cyrus with earlier!!!
JOHNSON: “The Big D! Darryl Wallace just hit Cyrus with the Big D right onto a chair!!!”
VASSA: “He’s going for the pin!”
The official swoops in, trying to avoid the blood and debris.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THRE—KICKOUT!!!
JOHNSON: “NO!!!”
VASSA: “Yes! Cyrus got the shoulder up again!”
Both men race to their feet, dripping blood in their wake. Darryl still has the chair in hand and swings it right at Cyrus’ head! Riddle ducks the blow and pivots on one foot, turning to catch Wallace in the back of the head with a massive lariat!!!
VASSA: “Daydreamer from Cyrus!!!
JOHNSON: “Now it’s Riddle for the pin!”
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THRE—KICKOUT!!!
VASSA: “Impossible!”
JOHNSON: “Darryl kicked out! Darryl isn’t done yet!”
Cyrus immediately goes after Darryl again, but Wallace breaks free and slides up into the ring with the chair in hand. Riddle follows after, and right into a series of stomps to the spine. While Cyrus is down on the mat, several figures appear at the top of the ramp, with Perry Wallace at the forefront, though no music hits to give him away!
JOHNSON: “It’s Perry Wallace and his security!”
Darryl drops the chair as Cyrus tackles him and begins laying into him with lefts, rights, and forearms. Wallace’s face becomes a mix of both of their blood as the assault goes on. Riddle suddenly stops and looks up as he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. A sick little smirk crosses his lips as he looks over Perry and his new bodyguards.
Cyrus leaves Darryl lying on the mat as he stands. Perry is shouting insults as he paces around the ring, pointing at Cyrus, all puffed up and feeling invincible now that he has hired hands. After a few moments Wallace climbs up onto the side of the ring to continue to berate Riddle. Cyrus takes a few steps forward and Perry seems to hesitate, but then continues on his tirade.
Behind Riddle, Darryl rolls over onto his stomach, moving carefully as he gets to his feet and picks up the chair that he had brought with him. Cyrus’ attention is fully focused on Perry and the hired goons flanking him on the floor below. Riddle tosses a few barbs of his own Perry’s way, but mostly just smirks at Perry’s words.
Darryl lifts the chair up as high over his head as possible as he runs at the side of the ring where Cyrus’ back is turned. Darryl swings the twisted and damaged chair with every last ounce of strength, right onto the head of Perry Wallace!!!
CCRRAACCKK!!!
Riddle sidesteps at the very last second without ever turning around and Darryl hits his own father with the chair!
CARLISLE: “HAH!”
JOHNSON: “What do you mean, ‘Hah?’ He’s paying you!”
CARLISLE: “And he should have left it to the people who know what they are doing. He got what he deserved for getting in the way.”
JOHNSON: “That’s terrible!”
CARLISLE: “I’m not called the Alpha Cupcake Queen, Steve.”
Darryl looks horrified at what he’s done as Perry falls backward off of the ring apron from the blow. His security guards just barely manage to catch him before he can hit the ground. Wallace suddenly remembers that he has an opponent in the ring and turns around, right into a hold from Cyrus! Riddle flips Darryl up onto his shoulder in the dominator position, gesturing rudely to the crowd and turning a full circle so every last corner of the arena can get a look at their plucky little hero before he drills him to the canvas with a sit-out piledriver!
VASSA: “Darkness Falls for Darryl Wallace!!!”
With both hand Cyrus gives the audience his two-fingered salute, then he drops and hooks one leg for the pin.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!
The official calls for the bell as “Anarchy in the UK” fills the arena.
DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!
JOHNSON: “No!”
VASSA: “Yes!”
Cyrus pulls his arm away before the referee can raise it. He lifts both bloody hands into the air all on his own, giving his salute to the booing audience once again. His arms slowly lower out to his sides as his head dips back and his eyes close, all the while standing over the fallen form of Darryl Wallace.
POWERS: “And here is your winner… ‘The Archetype’ CYRUS RRIIDDDDLLEE!!!”



Having left ringside while Cyrus was still savoring his victory, Aidan arrives backstage first to avoid any awkward accidental meetings. The plan is short-lived as she quickly finds herself face-to-face with CJ O’Donnell. The expression on her face quickly goes from cryptic to entirely annoyed to a fake but glowing smile.
CARLISLE: “Well, if it isn’t my favorite midget. Fancy meeting you here.”
O’Donnell has on a grin from ear to ear as he looks at Aidan who is standing there.
O’DONNELL: “Yeah who would’ve thought meeting a wrestler who works for the same promotion in the back. I mean it is like a fucking miracle. Anyway why the fuck are you checking out Cyrus still? He has moved on so build a bridge and get over it…”
CARLISLE: “Checking out?”
Aidan laughs outright and rolls her eyes, giving her leg a slap for a little over-the-top dramatism.
CARLISLE: “I was invited ringside earlier this week, actually. Don’t flatter yourself. Or him.”
CJ looks at Aidan who looks she is in a good mood for some reason and that is not the normal. CJ rubs his goatee as he looks at Carlisle.
O’DONNELL: “Sure you were. Anyway since I saw you drooling over my tag team partner I thought I’d let you know that I was talking to douche bag Wallace earlier..”
CARLISLE: “And? It’s adorable how you think I give a fuck about who either of you talk to.”
O’DONNELL: “You care I can tell by the look in your eyes. Don’t try to be this bad ass bitch it doesn’t fit you. But at Winter Wasteland…”
O’Donnell pauses for a dramatic effect and just to piss off Aidan a little bit more.
O’DONNELL: “The Art of War have opponents in the form of an Unstable tag team. Hope you are ready to lose those belts!”
If the news surprises Aidan, she doesn’t let it show. Instead she just shifts her weight from one foot to the other as she adjusts her Tag Team Championship on her shoulder.
CARLISLE: “Take a good, long look, O’Donnell, because this is as close as you’re ever going to get. I relish the chance to kick your ass again, or anyone else’s for that matter. I’m sure my partner will agree.”
O’Donnell this time as if he is mocking Aidan lets out a laugh and slaps his leg for added effect.
O’DONNELL: “Well it seems as if your partner is nowhere around and my partner is right behind you. What’s up Riddle? Nice win Cy!”
Riddle is shown standing behind Aidan, still bloody but smirking and looking as though he is coming down from a high.
RIDDLE: “Thanks, mate, that was glorious fun out there. I see you ran into Daddy’s little slut back here.”
O’DONNELL: “Yeah not by choice but the bitch was drooling so much over you she almost slipped in her own puddle of wetness. I told you about giving that D to desperate women!”
RIDDLE: “Well, we both know that wasn’t drool on the floor, making it wet, don’t we? I can’t help that my presence causes floods in the most intimate of areas.”
O’DONNELL: “Something the matter Aidan? You look a little pissed off. I heard you liked to be pissed on also or is that just a rumor?”
CARLISLE: “Keep talking. See what happens.”
O’DONNELL: “I can talk all night just like you can. Here I thought you could handle a little back and forth. I thought a champion of your caliber would be able to handle two Unstable members. Guess words hurt you don’t they whore?”
CARLISLE: “The only one here who ‘handles’ two Unstable members on a regular basis is standing right in front of me. Now, why don’t you tell me how bad you’d like my fist down your throat? We both know it will fit.”
O’DONNELL: “I’ll pass I don’t know where that hand of yours has been.”
CJ takes a smell of Aidan’s right hand and waves his own hand in front of his face.
O’DONNELL: “Jesus Christ – Smells like a fish market! Do you smell that stench Cy?”
RIDDLE: “One of the many reasons I require showers before my play toys are handled by yours truly. Can’t imagine taking it in true form.”
O’DONNELL: “How the hell do you bang that thing? Did your thing burn afterwards?”
RIDDLE: “She came with papers when I dealt with her. I take no chances.”
O’DONNELL: “So it was like she came with instructions?”
RIDDLE: “Exactly! Then I reprogrammed her into what I wanted her to be, gave her a false sense of freedom, and here she is today. That, my friend, is skill.”
O’DONNELL: “I give you a lot of credit man. You must have some big balls. At Winter Wasteland, we are going to right a wrong and show why Unstable is not a group to fuck with!”
CARLISLE: “Are you two done talking yet? Because that’s all you can do, talk. Bryan and I have already beaten you once, no matter how many ways you want to spin it. We’ll beat you again, it’s that simple.”
“Go ahead and slink back to your locker room where you two can cuddle up and suck each other off about how great you are while the rest of Unstable finishes the bukkake job. Even pathetic little fucks like yourselves deserve to indulge in the occasional fantasy. In fact, you should film it and put it on the internet, it might make you famous.”
O’DONNELL: “Damn I forgot you were even still here anyway stop living in the past! I think we are done here right, Cyrus?”
RIDDLE: “I know I am, I need some rest. Plus, we should let her have her win now, even though all I need is to tell her what to do and she’ll obey. It’s breaking into the house all over again.”
O’DONNELL: “Just like a good dog that she is. Anyway Aidan enjoy that tag team belt because it is leaving your waist at Winter Wasteland. If you’ll excuse me I have a match to get ready for.”
CJ walks out of the camera’s view with a smile on his face like it is a moral victory and he has gotten inside the head of Aidan. With O’Donnell gone, Aidan finally turns around and looks fully at Cyrus, wordlessly staring at him across the narrow distance between them. Before he leaves, he dabbles some blood from his chest onto his fingers and sticks his tongue out to taste, winking at Aidan before walking away.

UNDERCARD
BRYAN LAUGHLIN VS. AIDAN CARLISLE
VASSA: “It’s been a wild night so far and looking at this next match on paper, I can tell things are going to get even wilder.”
JOHNSON: “I’m sure it will. Bryan Laughlin will be making his Adrenaline debut tonight. He comes from our Fate brand with an overall record of one and one.”
VASSA: “I like what I’ve seen so far from Bryan. I’m going to be completely honest with you, I’d be a little worried if I were alone with him in a dark alley.”
JOHNSON: “He is a bit of a dark one from what I’ve gathered. He’s impressed the powers that be in his short time on Fate though.”
VASSA: “It didn’t take long for his number to get called, did it? I’m stoked to see him on Adrenaline. The talent level in 4CW is always growing and he fits right in. From what I’ve heard, he’s a great addition to have on this already stacked roster of talent.”
JOHNSON: “He certainly caught the attention of Perry Wallace on his last appearance of Fate.”
VASSA: “No offense to Bryan when I say this but that isn’t saying much. Perry is a drunk and has proven time and time again, more so recently, that his judgment isn’t always the best.”
JOHNSON: “Don’t get yourself in trouble, Vinny.”
VASSA: “I’m not too worried about it, Perry loves me!”
The heavy opening guitar riff from “Out of My Mind” by Mushroomhead hits over the speakers as a slight fog grows around the curtain and Bryan Laughlin emerges walking slowly.
POWERS: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall!”
His trademark “LAUGH-LIN” Run DMC Style shirt on he nods his head to the music and acknowledges the fans before dropping his head taking a deep breath and breaking out into a sprint towards the ring.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Los Angeles, California by way of Cleveland, Ohio! Weighing in at two hundred twenty five pounds and standing six feet, two inches tall, “The Ripper”, BRYAN LAUGHLIN!!!”
Approaching the ring he slides in and gets to his knees throwing his head back and his arms out allowing the fans to acknowledge him back. He quickly hops to his feet mouthing the lyrics.
“Judge me for what I am
The passage of death
You don’t play, you don’t win
You change nothing
You gain nothing
Everybody’s out from here on in”
He backs into the nearest corner taking off his shirt and throwing it behind him out of the ring as his music slowly fades.
JOHNSON: “There he is ladies and gentlemen! Bryan Laughlin has officially made it to Adrenaline!”
VASSA: “This isn’t going to be an easy debut for him by any means as he will be taking on the one and only “Alpha Bitch”, Aidan Carlisle.”
JOHNSON: “A win here in his Adrenaline debut against her no less could lead to big opportunities for him.”
VASSA: “There’s no denying that, when you’re right you’re right!”
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 arena.
POWERS: “And the opponent!”
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 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. She is 4CW’s “Alpha Bitch”, 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 boos 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.
VASSA: “Damn if she isn’t sexy but even more intimidating… But don’t let me forget, she’s a fucking bitch!”
JOHNSON: “I don’t know how else to put it so I’ll be up front when I say this. Aidan has left a trail of destruction behind her and her path in 4CW.”
VASSA: “I think that’s the best way to put it honestly. She’s devoured anything placed in front of her and here at the booth. I can’t believe she laid her hands on her. If she wanted a piece all she has to do is ask.”
JOHNSON: “Bitch TV had worked their way into the picture for challenging Aidan and her partner, Bryan Williams, for the Tag Team Championships. Well… after getting the recognition they had earned, Aidan destroyed Zelda Orion in the ring. Then, to top it off, Bryan Williams thought it would be a good idea to smash her face with the championship belt.”
VASSA: “That was a lovely sight, wasn’t it?”
JOHNSON: “I guess you could say that, but the end result led to there being no one available to challenge for the championships at Winter Wasteland.”
VASSA: “I wouldn’t be so sure about that! We’re you paying attention just a few moments ago?”
JOHNSON: “I was, I know that CJ O’Donnell and Cyrus Riddle have answered the open challenge. The point I was making is that Aidan has just set out to destroy everything set in her path. She’s really making a name for herself, a more dominant presence than what she had already painted for everyone before now.”
VASSA: “Her new nickname says it best, she’s the “Alpha Bitch”, plain and simple. She needs to learn some damn manners if you ask me!”
JOHNSON: “Come on, Vinny! It wasn’t that bad. I must say, I do strongly believe that Bryan Laughlin will present more of a challenge for her than what has been placed on her plate as of late.”
VASSA: “They’re both in the ring and the only thing left to do now is get right to it! I hope Bryan cracks her head wide open.”
JOHNSON: “That sounds perfect… the match starting at least.”
VASSA: “I can’t believe that fucking bitch!”
Standing in the center of the ring, the official looks over to Laughlin standing in his corner with his eyes locked on Aidan across the ring. Giving the ref a slow nod, Laughlin gives him the signal that he’s ready for the match to begin. Looking to the opposite side of the ring, the official checks with Aidan who quickly nods back with confidence. With both wrestlers ready in their corners, the official slowly lifts his hand into the air before swinging it downward and signaling for the bell.
DING!!! DING!!!
Licking his lips, Bryan pushes himself away from his corner and slowly approaches the center of the ring, eyes locked on Aidan dead ahead. Looking back at him, Aidan smirks before stepping out of her corner. Meeting face to face, the two lock eyes and stare into each others for a short moment, somewhat awkward in the silence confined within the ropes. Breaking the dead silence, Aidan makes the first move and lunges forward, wrapping her arms around Bryan’s head and locking her hands together. She then forces his head downward while lifting her knee upward and planting it into his face. Releasing his head upon impact, Aidan looks on as he stumbles backwards but maintains his footing.
Shaking off the cobwebs, Laughlin slowly looks up at Aidan with a grin on his face. He then licks his lips before charging towards her full speed. Bryan takes a swing for her head but misses as she ducks underneath. Still in full stride, Bryan races to the ropes and comes back hard on the rebound, leaping into the air. Turning around without knowing what’s behind her, Aidan’s eye quickly widen at the sight of Bryan flying towards her and wiping her out with headbutt right between the eyes. Stumbling backwards, Aidan trips over her own feet and falls to the canvas as Bryan lands on both feet, in a slight daze.
With Aidan on her back and seeing stars, Bryan then flips over and plants his hands into the mat. He then walks on his hands while maintaining his handstand until close enough to swing back around and drop his knee right across Aidan’s shoulder. Bryan then positions himself beside Aidan and cradles her head to her ribs before hitting her numerous times with knee strikes. After landing nearly a dozen, Bryan releases his hold and rolls backwards and then to his feet. Walking around the ring, Bryan keeps his eyes locked on Aidan, ignoring the outside world.
JOHNSON: “Bryan is off to a quick start with the Tag Team Champion.”
VASSA: “That’s fantastic! I wish he would grab that belt and smash her face with it.”
JOHNSON: “Seriously, Vinny? You are still stuck on that?”
VASSA: “What do you mean am I still stuck on that? It just fucking happened! While you were sitting there doing nothing, I had having my head bashed into the booth. YES! I am still stuck on that!”
JOHNSON: “We’re not going to hear about this for the rest of the evening are we?”
VASSA: “Oh shut up, you old turd!”
Grabbing a handful of hair, Bryan rolls Aidan over to stomach and then pulls her up to both feet. Grabbing her head with his other hand, Bryan then pulls her into him as he drives his knee into her stomach. He then locks onto her wrist and goes to whip her to the ropes but Aidan quickly reverses and sends him racing towards them instead. Just as Bryan bounces off on the rebound, Aidan does a hand spring and hits him with a back elbow as she comes back to her feet. Falling into the ropes, Bryan stretches both arms out and grabs onto the top one, holding himself up. With Bryan’s mid-section open, Aidan spins around and plants her foot into his stomach, forcing the air out from his lungs.
With Bryan lunging over from the blow, Aidan then locks onto his head and drops him down to the mat with a swinging neckbreaker. Popping back to her feet, she then turns to the corner and quickly makes her way towards it before ascending to the top. Looking down at Bryan, she watches as he slowly rolls away from the ropes and once he stops on his back, she leaps into the air, flips around and comes down with a high angle senton bomb.
JOHNSON: “She missed!”
TTHHUUDD!!!
After rolling out of the way, Bryan leave Aidan nothing but canvas to break her fall as she crashes down onto it.
VASSA: “Ha-Ha! That was awesome!”
Coming up to a seated position, Aidan reaches behind her and holds her lower back as the pain reveals itself with the expression on her face. Pushing himself up, Bryan looks on with satisfaction before the emotion disappears. He then charges towards her and hits her with a running drop kick to the face, sending her body slamming to the mat, but more importantly her head crashing against it. Bryan then leaps onto Aidan and mounts himself on top before reaching down with both hands and wrapping them around her throat. Lifting her head up from the mat, he stares into her eyes for a moment before slamming it back down into the canvas. With the illegal choke hold in place, the official then begins his five count while Bryan squeezes tighter and tighter.
“One! … Two!”
VASSA: “Give her what she deserves, Bryan!”
JOHNSON: “He can’t do that!”
“Three! … Four!”
VASSA: “Oh yes he can!”
“Fi–“
Bryan then releases his hold before the official can finish the five count. He then pushes himself up to his feet and stands over Aidan, looking down to her as she gasps for air. The official then pushes him away from Aidan before screaming in his face and giving him a warning for the illegal move.
JOHNSON: “Look at that evil grin on his face. I think Bryan is enjoying the sight of Aidan fighting for air.”
VASSA: “If he isn’t, I sure as shit am! That bitch made me bleed my own goddamn blood earlier.”
Growing tired of hearing the ref as if he were talking to himself, Bryan pushes him out of the way and then charges towards Aidan. With her still down and finally catching her breath, Bryan leaps as high as he can into the air and glides before coming down with a double foot stomp onto her chest. After stepping off of her, Bryan then grabs her by the arm with one hand and head with the other before pulling her up from the mat. After standing her up, Bryan then strikes her across the chest with a knife edge chop that gives off a sharp flesh slapping sound that pierces through the sounds of the crowd. He then wraps his arms around her upper-body before planting both feet into the canvas and driving himself upward. Just as he lifts her up from her feet, Aidan counters with an elbow to the side of the head that stops his momentum. Just as her feet touch down and before Bryan can try to lift her up again, again then delivers another elbow but this time to the ear, breaking his hold on her.
Aidan then pushes Bryan a few steps back but as he plants his back leg, Bryan lunges forward with a haymaker. Quick on her feet, Aidan side steps the punch and then spins Bryan around to face the opposite direction. She then slaps both hands between his shoulders before digging her fingernails into his flesh. Bryan’s cringes but before he can get too far, Aidan then gives him a backrake, leaving long scratches from the top of his back to his lower back. Grunting, Bryan then smirks a little as if he were enjoying the pain given to him by Aidan. He then swings around and throws an elbow towards her head but Aidan closes in and wraps him up before contact can be made. Lifting Bryan up from his feet, Aidan throws him over her head with a T-bone suplex as she drops to the mat herself.
VASSA: “Is it just me or did Bryan actually appear to enjoy that backrake?”
JOHNSON: “As off as it may seem, I think he enjoyed it to be honest.”
VASSA: “Kids these days, they’re freaks!”
After hitting the mat, Bryan rolls to a seated position with his back turned to Aidan who has gotten back to her feet. Before he can get up, Aidan closes in behind him and kicks him in the middle of the back, sending a sharp pain throughout his entire body as it travels up and down his spine. She then grabs him by the head and rolls him over to all fours before pulling him up to his feet. Once on his feet, Bryan drives both fists forward and punches Aidan in the chest, pushing her away. He then goes to kick her in the stomach but before his foot can make contact, Aidan catches it.
JOHNSON: “She saw that coming from a mile away.”
Aidan then throws Bryan’s leg to the side, spinning him around but as he comes back to face her, Bryan jumps up and hits her in the side of the head with a powerful kick.
VASSA: “She didn’t see that coming!”
JOHNSON: “Just when you think Aidan is about to hit a big move, Bryan fires back with a dragon whip.”
VASSA: “As in he just whipped her ass!”
Both down on the mat, the two begin to slowly climb to their feet. Standing tall first, Bryan locks his sights on Aidan before she can get back up. Looking to the ropes right beside her, Bryan jumps into the air and springboards off the middle rope. While in mid-air, Bryan turns around and comes crashing down on Aidan’s back with a double axe handle, knocking her back to the mat face-first. Grabbing ahold of her head with both hands, Bryan then lifts her up from the mat with ease before turning her around and positioning himself behind her. Locking in a full nelson, Bryan then lifts her up and drives her head into the mat with a suplex.
VASSA: “That bitch just got Dump’d!”
JOHNSON: “Wow, Vinny, I’m surprised you knew the name of that move.”
VASSA: “I’ve been known to surpr–“
JOHNSON: “Bryan’s going for the cover!”
Crawling over Aidan, Bryan hooks her leg as the ref slides in for the count.
ONE
.
.
TWO
VASSA: “DAMNIT!!!”
JOHNSON: “Aidan was able to escape with a two count.”
Looking up at the ref in disbelief, Bryan shakes his head before pushing himself up. Grabbing onto Aidan, he then pulls her up as well but as he does, Aidan pushes him away and rolls backwards and back to her feet, creating a little distance between the two. With their eyes locked on one another, the two study each others body movements as they then begin to circle one another in the center of the ring. Making the first move, Bryan shoots in for Aidan’s leg but she quickly counters and sprawls, landing on top of him and applying a front headlock. She then transitions the hold into a front-face triangle choke and applies the pressure as Bryan begins to squirm.
JOHNSON: “This could be bad for Bryan!”
VASSA: “Of course it’s bad for Bryan. His face is right in her crotch!”
JOHNSON: “Be quiet, Vinny. If she hadn’t bumped into you earlier you would be wishing right now that you were in Bryan’s position.”
VASSA: “I would not!”
JOHNSON: “Would too.”
VASSA: “WOULD NOT!!!”
With the move locked in, Bryan struggles to break free. He then throws wild, blind, punches over his head, landing maybe one for every three thrown. With one arm in between Aidan’s legs but around her waist, Bryan wraps his free arm around her, sliding it underneath her back until locking his hands. In a burst of energy, Bryan lifts Aidan up from the mat after driving his feet into the canvas. As if watching in slow motion, Bryan begins to stand to his feet while pulling Aidan up from the mat as she keeps the front-face triangle choke in tact.
JOHNSON: “I can’t believe we’re seeing this right now but Bryan has managed to stand to his feet while pulling Aidan up as well, with her legs still locked around his head.”
Bryan then lifts Aidan up even higher and holds her up for a moment while still having his head crushed with her legs.
VASSA: “If this is what I think it is then Aidan is in for a ride! Powerbomb the shit out of her Bryan!”
JOHNSON: “That could very well happen and it would be an awesome display of power by Bryan Laughlin.”
VASSA: “What the… no… NNOOO!!!”
Aidan then legs go of Bryan with her hands and falls backwards while swinging her body to the side.
JOHNSON: “UH-OH!!!”
As her body fully extends, Aidan lifts Bryan up from his feet and throws him across the ring with a head scissors.
VASSA: “No fucking way!”
JOHNSON: “That just happened Vinny! Aidan just countered Bryan’s counter attempt with a headscissors takedown.”
Slow to her feet, Aidan finally stands but as she does, she notices Bryan across the ring climbing to his feet as well with help from the ropes. Before he can get there, Aidan quickly takes off towards him, gaining speed with each step as she closes in. Just as Bryan stands straight up, Aidan jumps up with her feet aimed directly at him and spins her body around to where she faces the mat. Spreading her legs, Aidan wraps them around Bryan’s waist, straddling him, before pushing herself up from the mat with both hands. Once up in a vertical position, Aidan then rolls forward, lifts Bryan up from his feet and drives his face into the canvas with a wheelbarrow facebuster.
JOHNSON: “RAIN OF PAIN!!!”
VASSA: “GOD DAMNIT!!!”
Aidan then rolls Bryan over to his back before taking a short moment to savor it. She then crawls on top of him and hooks the leg as the ref sweeps in for the count.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!
JOHNSON: “Aidan has won it! The Alpha Bitch pulls out the win in a close one.”
VASSA: “It wasn’t an easy one for her but I guess I’ll give credit where it’s due.”
JOHNSON: “That’s awful mature of you, Vinny.”
VASSA: “I’m not here to be mature. I demand an apology for what she did to me earlier!”
JOHNSON: “Good luck getting it. That’s all I can say.”
“Immortalized” hits the speakers as Aidan pops her head up. She then stands to her feet, one on each side of Bryan. The official steps in beside her and raises her arm into the air as she just closes her eyes.
DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!
POWERS: “Here is your winner by pinfall, AIDAN CCAARRLLIISSLLEE!!!”
JOHNSON: “This was a great match up from start to finish. Bryan may not leave with the win tonight but this was an impressive debut for him on Adrenaline nonetheless.”
VASSA: “I would pay to see these two go at it one more time tonight because I know Bryan can bust her head wide open.”
JOHNSON: “This wasn’t an easy match for either and could have went in anyone’s favor. Maybe we will see these two in action again in the near future.”
With her arms held out to her side, Aidan stands over Bryan still down between her legs, eyes closed and soaking in the moment.
JOHNSON: “We’re going to go backstage folks while the ring is cleared for our next match.”

Standing to himself backstage as the loud thumping of one’s entrance and the thousands screaming inside the Key Arena, Hopkins found himself a small area to think and focus within as he was set to take part in an epic battle with Unstable member, CJ O’Donnell. Hopkins already in his gear, his fists clinched together, he stares at the wall, sighing.
HOPKINS: “Tonight is the night I make yet another “Unstable” soul bleed heavily. Last time, it was Cyrus Riddle. Fought hard till’ the end, but he failed. Tonight CJ O’Donnell finally gets the challenge he always wanted. He finally gets someone to lay his hands on. I get it, getting told either your opponent isn’t available, rather forfeiting the match or simply getting one who’s blown it’s tires out … I get the frustration. But now it’s “Put Up or Shut Up, CJ!”
Hopkins pressed his back against the wall as he used both his hands as suction support to the wall. Raising his legs, he reached to the other side of the wall, as he was now off his feet, calm as ever.
HOPKINS: “I don’t think CJ truly got from Cashe who I really am and what I really can do when ultra-motivated. See, you got all that nice info from your boy Cashe but he didn’t give you a slight warning of the backlash that comes with it. You bringing up that point in the past is like lighter fluid to a fire. My fire was already lit, while low, it still burned. But ever since you chose to remind everyone about my past and revive those dark moments, you chose to raise the flames to a high level. Was this intentional or just on purpose? Doesn’t even matter now really because I’m only minutes away from facing you and kicking your head off your neck.”
HOPKINS: “I wear my heart on my sleeve, it’s no secret. I thrive off the ambience of the audience. I give them what they want. I do what is needed to get the job done. I don’t need a crew, a stable, a bag of worthless ass sniffers with only one carrying the group. Cashe, I hate but I respect. Respect takes a while to be earned but he got it from me. You, you haven’t proved anything to me besides your past work and your big mouth. It’s not entirely your fault being the lack of competition. That changes tonight though. I’m going to take you on a ride.”
Hopkins chuckles as he slowly but surely transcends upwards closing in on the distance of him and the ceiling.
HOPKINS: “I’ve seen what you can do. I low-key can scout very well. What you did in Boardwalk is outstanding, but … that’s Boardwalk. This is Four Corners. Two different organizations with two different caliber rosters. What you did there will be different what you do here. You’re a trained hunter, but can you keep me in your sights? Can you reach me from long-distance? Questions continue to come as the answers rest on the hands of this match. You are on the biggest stage right now, you better prove every word you say or else as I said to you before, promises are easy to make but hard to keep.”
Hopkins suddenly just releases himself as he sticks his landing perfectly in his ‘winged’ Adidas.
HOPKINS: “Your head will be number two tonight, sitting right beside your buddy, Cyrus and then it’s onto the next. Come right, CJ! You got one shot!”
Hopkins throws up the Salute and Peace sign to the camera before walking out of focus as the cameras cut and goes directly back to ringside.

UNDERCARD
CJ O’DONNELL VS. JAIR HOPKINS
“When the sun rises
I wake up and chase my dreams
I won’t regret when the sun sets
Cause I live my life like I’m a beast
I’m a mothafucking beast”
“Ayo back to make you run around the game like its a fire
I spit acid bitch like I got cyanide in my saliva
Watch me wet and heat shit up like I’m a washer and a dryer
While I beat you in your head until you tire”
“I’m a motherfucking beast”
As the beginning notes of “Beast” begins to play, the arena goes to darkness. With the beats kicking in, “The Distinguished” slowly walks out with a huge smirk on his face as the fans welcome him with a chorus of boos throughout the arena.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring, weighing in at one hundred and eighty pounds, from Boston, Massachusetts, representing “The Unstable”! He is “THE DISTINGUISHED” CEE JAY OOOOOO… DDOONNNNEELLLL!!!”
As O’Donnell slowly makes his way down to the ring he can not help but take in all the insults and jeers from the crowd.
“I’ma motherfucking beast
I’ma, I’ma fuckin’ beast
I’ma mothafuckin’ beast
Fucking mothafucking beast
I’ma motherfuckin’ beast (you don’t want problems)
I’ma motherfuckin’ beast (you don’t want problems with me)
I’ma motherfuckin’ beast (you don’t want problems)
I’ma motherfuckin’ beast (you don’t want problems with me)”
“I’m a motherfucking beast right
Homie welcome to the east side, where the killers reside
We playing war games, please hide
Ain’t no signs of peace, so fuck a peace sign, we ride
Bust shots from a car seat
Or maybe hang you ’til your neck is broke
Choke with you with a Stethoscope
That’s how I kill a motherfucker in a heartbeat on a dark street”
Caleb has reached the end of the entrance way and is making his way up the ring steps. Once CJ gets on the top steps he raises his arms up in the air which only receives more boos from the audience tonight.
“I’ma I’ma fuckin’ beast!
I’ma mothafuckin’ beast
Fucking mothafucking beast
I’ma motherfuckin’ beast (you don’t want problems)
I’ma motherfuckin’ beast (you don’t want problems with me)
I’ma motherfuckin’ beast (you don’t want problems)
I’ma motherfuckin’ beast (you don’t want problems with me)”
CJ has entered the ring now and he takes off his black Unstable t-shirt. He rolls it into a ball and acts like he is about to toss it into the crowd but instead he drops it over the top ropes and it lands on the outside on the floor. CJ begins to stretch in the corner as he awaits for the bell to ring.
I’m a motherfucking beast!”
JOHNSON: “CJ O’Donnell making his way to the ring, showing little respect here in Seattle, Washington tonight.”
VASSA: “Come on, he simply doesn’t want to cause a riot over the hottest t-shirt in all of professional wreslting. Unstable! They’re selling out buildings world wide and every fan in the world wants a piece of this group. So really. he’s doing them a favor.”
JOHNSON: “Really? That’s your conclusion?”
VASSA: “One hundred percent. And that’s three more votes than Ken Griffey Jr. got.”
The lights grow dim as there are now red and white lights blinking in mix speeds…
“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 as he waits for the match to begin.
JOHNSON: “The former 4CW champion looking to get back into the championship picture, he’s been on a hotstreak since returning from his MCL injury. Last time out he scored a victory over another member of Unstable in Cy Riddle, so this is another challenge laid out in from of him.”
VASSA: “Yet, you don’t manage to mention that CJ O’Donnell has also been on an absolute tear since signing in with 4CW once. Not once. You play such favorites. I’m the one who is supposed to do that.”
JOHNSON: “Well, a bit of the immovable object against the unstoppable force here tonight.”
DING!!! DING!!!
The two begin with a bit of a circle dance around the center of the ring both doing a little measuring up of the other as they approach and tie up with a double collar and elbow. Nearly equal size the two push back and forth without much give, both doing their best to get the early advantage, but also both on the defense of what the other can do. Hopkins is able to back O’Donnell up against the ropes which forces the referee to break up the hold and back Hopkins towards the center of the ring. Hopkins and O’Donnell have a couple of choice words with each other as they again lock up in the center of the ring, this time however there is no backing up as O’Donnell goes low with a knee lift to the gut the moment his hands and Hopkins’ touch. He follows up that shot with a quick uppercut which causes Hopkins to back up in the ring, O’Donnell doesn’t give the former 4CW champ a second to recover as he charges in with a massive right hand which rocks Hopkins up against the ropes. The crowd boos this, but O’Donnell responds by spitting in their general direction.
JOHNSON: “More disrespect here shown by CJ O’Donnell. But, he’s off to the hot start showing his skill off early on in this match.”
VASSA: “You’ve just got to get your bias digs in, don’t you.”
JOHNSON: “He spit towards the crowd.”
VASSA: “I spit towards this crowd too… when I talk fast. Who cares?”
O’Donnell then takes Hopkins by the hand and slings him across the ring with a big whip, Hopkins rebounds and is met by a flying knee right to his head which levels him in the middle of the ring. Hopkins gets right back up, but O’Donnell is waiting for him as locks on a rear waist-lock he goes for a belly to back suplex, but Hopkins is able to stop the first attempt. O’Donnell counters with a couple of vicious looking elbow shots across the back of his opponent’s skull and then goes for the belly to back again…
SLLLLLLLLAMM!!!
JOHNSON: “Big time suplex there by O’Donnell! All impact on that mat.”
VASSA: “Right about now Jair Hopkins is thinking that he should have reinjured that MCL last week.”
JOHNSON: “I highly doubt that, Vinny.”
No pin attempt as Hopkins sort of rolls to a knee before O’Donnell can get fully back up to his feet, but that puts him into perfect position for a running kick right to the side of the head of Jair! Hopkins hits the deck hard from the impact of that kick, O’Donnell uses the ropes to stop his momentum and to once more give the crowd some shit for backing Hopkins. O’Donnell turns and pulls Hopkins back up to his feet, however, cradling his head and arm he once again lifts the former 4CW champion into the air from a near seated position.
SLLLLLLLLLLLLLAMM!!!
JOHNSON: “Head and arm suplex there, CJ just showing off the variety of suplexes he can throw at you at any given moment.”
VASSA: “This is why this man is a big time threat to anyone who steps into that ring with him, he’ll just grab anything and suplex it for you.”
JOHNSON: “He’s certainly showing that off now.”
VASSA: “It’s all about the Unstable.”
JOHNSON: “There’s the cover by CJ O’Donnell!”
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
KICKOUT!!!
JOHNSON: “A quick two there and Hopkins pops up his shoulder.”
VASSA: “This match has been all CJ O’Donnell so far.”
JOHNSON: “It’s only been like two or three minutes.”
O’Donnell complains a little about the speed of the count there, but quickly goes back to the attack on the former champion, Hopkins. O’Donnell pulls down on the ring ropes using them as leverage as he pushes his boot into the throat of Hopkins. The referee tries to stop him with a five count, but O’Donnell waits and waits until four and half and finally stops. Again, the crowd voices its displeasure, but O’Donnell doesn’t give a shit. With a handful of hair he pulls Hopkins back up to his feet once again and shoves him up against the ring ropes, this time however he begins to unload with some seriously stiff kicks right to Jair’s chest!! Each kick stiffer than the last, Jair sort of crumbles slowly from the force of the attack!!
VASSA: “Feet don’t fail me now!”
JOHNSON: “Vicious kicks to the chest of Jair Hopkins!!”
VASSA: “He’s just lighting up Hopkins’ chest like the Forth of July.”
Hopkins holds onto the ropes with one hand as O’Donnell continues the attack with his feet. The referee tries to get between the two of them, which doesn’t seem to slow CJ down much. Finally, after a couple last shots to the chest he stops and Hopkins lets go of the ropes and fully collapses onto the mat.
JOHNSON: “O’Donnell showing no mercy here tonight, Hopkins collapsing in the ring from those kicks.”
VASSA: “You ever seen that before? Ever? No! Why? Unstable, baby.”
JOHNSON: “Are you being paid or something?”
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THRE–KICKOUT!!!
JOHNSON: “Two and a half! Hopkins showing he’s got plenty of fight left in him!”
VASSA: “Not much, though. Not after that.”
O’Donnell gives a smug look towards his opponent, but again doesn’t waste any time getting back to his own feet as he also grabs his opponent once again by the head and pulls him up as well. With a heavy thud O’Donnell dumps Hopkins into the ring corner, looking for some more damage O’Donnell climbs up to the middle rope and begins to hammer away at the forehead of Hopkins. In between each shot O’Donnell continues the trash talking, after about the fourth shot O’Donnell switches to simply smacking Jair across the face in the ultimate display of disrespect. Hopkins grabs O’Donnell around the legs and stumbles out…
SLLLLLLLLLAMM!!!

JOHNSON: ” Big time counter with the inverted atomic drop by Jair Hopkins!
VASSA: “What?! How’d he!?”

O’Donnell grabs a hold of his berries and hops around in some serious pain as Jair Hopkins is finally able to get a breather. Hopkins stumbles backwards into the ropes and comes off leaping high into the air with his leg…
SMMMMMMMMMMMACK!!!
…crashing down across the neck of CJ O’Donnell with a leaping leg drop! O’Donnell eats a mouthful of canvas from the shot, the crowd roars in support of Jair Hopkins. Hopkins takes this chance and goes for a quick cover of his opponent.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THRE–KICKOUT!!!
JOHNSON: “Close pin there by Jair Hopkins! Who has reversed his fortunes from early on this match.”
VASSA: “No, no, no! Not happening.”
JOHNSON: “The former 4CW champion digging down deep here now.”
Hopkins, still shaking off the rust of from the first part of this match, pulls himself back up to his feet with a look of a little frustration now. But he turns his attention back towards CJ O’Donnell as a snear grows on his face, in a single quick motion Hopkins pulls O’Donnell up to his feet and whips him into the furthest corner turnbuckle. Hopkins charges at full speed connecting with a splash!! The crowd gets back up to their feet and begins to cheer him on. Hopkins whips O’Donnell to the cross turnbuckle and again charges, leaping from about the middle of the ring and splashing down into the corner once again with a huge THUD! onto his opponent. O’Donnell stumbles out of the corner as Hopkins charges towards the near ropes leaps up onto the middle ropes springboarding himself into the air…
SLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAMMM!!!
JOHNSON: “Springboard DDT. What a move!”
VASSA: “Alright, I’ll give him some points on the cool factor there. But still, this is all wrong.”
JOHNSON: “O’Donnell reeling and Jair Hopkins turning things around in a hurry.”
VASSA: “Oh come on, Hopkins.”
JOHNSON: “There’s a cover…”
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THRE–KICKOUT!!!
JOHNSON: “So close there again, Hopkins got the two and a half but CJ O’Donnell got the shoulder up. He’s showing that he’s not done either here tonight.”
VASSA: “Of course not, Stevie. This one’s going to swing back towards Unstable.”
JOHNSON: “Are you being paid per mention? I’m confused here.”
Hopkins is right back up to his feet, feeling it he pulls O’Donnell right back up to his feet with a handful of air, Hopkins is quick to hook the arm and the leg and lifts the Unstable founding member into the air crashing down onto the mat with a fisherman suplex!! The impact from the shot forces O’Donnell to bounce almost right back to up his feet, but that’s just fine for Hopkins who wraps his arms around the waist and lifts him up and over sending him through the air with a front face suplex!! O’Donnell crashes down again, the crowd is on their feet in awe of the display being put on by the former 4CW champion, Hopkins. Hopkins waits for O’Donnell to once again get back up to his feet charges in and leaps up into the air hooking his legs around the head of O’Donnell…
SLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAMMMMM!!!
…and O’Donnell counters the hurricanrana attempt with a sit-out powerbomb!! Jair Hopkins crashes down hard on his back as O’Donnell bounces himself and is unable to hold onto the move for the pin. Both men are on their backs in the ring in some serious pain now.
JOHNSON: “Great counter there by CJ O’Donnell!! He just dropped down into that powerbomb stopping Hopkins in his tracks.”
VASSA: “And just a little too winded here to make the cover, but I think he’s got Hopkins in the crosshairs now.”
JOHNSON: “O’Donnell showing that impressive fortitude which has propelled him to success in other parts of wrestling and so far looking like a bright star in 4CW. But, he’s in there with someone who has shown that fortitude for the better part of two years.”
VASSA: “Old dogs die slow sometimes. CJ O’Donnell is going to carry this federation for years to come.”
JOHNSON: “If you say so, Vinny.”
Slowly the two former champions begin to roll back up to their feet, O’Donnell uses the ropes for leverage as Hopkins simply tries to pull himself in the center of the ring. O’Donnell is able to get up first and quickly moves in with a rear waistlock onto his opponent. In a swift and sudden motion O’Donnell lifts Hopkins up and over…
SLLLLLLLLLLAMMMMM!!!
VASSA: “The Distinguished Plex!”
JOHNSON: “He holds the bridge… the referee slides in…””
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THRE–
JOHNSON: “NO! NO! HOPKINS KICKS OUT!”
VASSA: “SLOW COUNT! SLOW COUNT REF!”
JOHNSON: “Looks like O’Donnell is thinking the same thing.”
O’Donnell again pulls himself up, this time a bit frustrated looking and instead of going on the attack against Jair he heads towards the ring ropes and climbs up facing his opponent to the middle turnbuckle. O’Donnell leaps from the middle high into the air…
SLAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!
…slamming down with with a leg drop from the second rope. He hooks the leg of Hopkins as he flips over quickly going for another cover.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THRE–
JOHNSON: “NO! ONCE AGAIN JAIR HOPKINS IS ABLE TO GET THE SHOULDER UP!”
VASSA: “Oh come on! You’ve got one job! One job!”
JOHNSON: “And he did it. He did it well there.”
Pissed off about the speed of the count, CJ O’Donnell goes for a second cover on Hopkins just to prove his point to the referee.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THRE–KICKOUT!!!
JOHNSON: “Hopkins powers out of that one too.”
VASSA: “CJ O’Donnell is just going to have put Hopkins down another way.”
O’Donnell is a bit pissed off at this point, he in turn sits on the chest of his opponent and begins to hammer away with forearm and elbow strikes to Hopkins. After a couple nasty shots O’Donnell gets back up to his feet and stomps around a little bit before sliding back into the attack, this time trying a different tactic as he pulls the legs of Hopkins into a wishbone and begins to hook on a standing leg lock. The crowd gets to their feet, because they know exactly what’s coming.
JOHNSON: “O’Donnell going for the Celtic Curse!!”
VASSA: “If he locks this in, this match is going to be over!!”
Hopkins fights being flipped over as O’Donnell sinks in the first part of his submission hold. Hopkins swings wildly as O’Donnell turns back and forth trying to twist the former 4CW champion onto his stomach so he can lock the arms. A couple of Hopkins’ shot look like they connect, but O’Donnell seems too determined to finish this match once and for all.
JOHNSON: “Almost… he’s almost got it lock in!”
VASSA: “Once he crosses those arms of Hopkins in front, this one is going to be over.”
Just as it looks like Hopkins is going to get flipped, he is somehow able to reach up with his arms and cradle the head of his opponent. With that he is able to roll the Unstable member onto his back reversing the hold into a small package, the referee slides into place to make the three count…
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THRE–
JOHNSON: “Inside cradle nearly got him!! Inside cradle by Jair Hopkins and he nearly got the win from it.”
VASSA: “Oh man, that was too close. Just too close!”
JOHNSON: “Hopkins powering out of that Celtic Curse, and he’s a lucky man. A real lucky man.”
Hopkins leaps up back to his feet as O’Donell is able to power out of the inside cradle, Hopkins stumbles into the ropes and uses them to slingshot himself towards O’Donnell, O’Donnell however is able to counter this nailing Hopkins square in the jaw with a vicious looking uppercut stunning the former champion. Before Hopkins even has time to recover O’Donnell hooks him around the neck and drops straight down…
SLLLLLLLLLLAMM!!!
VASSA: “DDT!! Yes!! Now make the pin!”
JOHNSON: “Hopkins’ head bounces off the mat! O’Donnell hooks the leg!!”
VASSA: “He got him! He got him!”
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THRE–KICKOUT!!!
JOHNSON: “NO! ANOTHER KICKOUT!”
VASSA: “This is killing me! What does O’Donnell have to do to end this thing?!”
JOHNSON: “I don’t know, but Jair Hopkins is digging down deep tonight. He’s showing he’s got the heart of a champion.”
O’Donnell gets right back to his feet as Hopkins sort of rolls to his own feet. O’Donnell backs off giving Hopkins a chance to get back up to his feet fully, and gives CJ a chance to size him up for a big shot. O’Donnell charges from one side of the ring, charing and leaping into the air pushing his knee forward…
SLLAMM!!!

JOHNSON: “NO! NO! CJ O’DONNELL GOES FOR THE IRISH KNOWLEDGE AND HOPKINS SIDE STEPS IT!”
VASSA: “No! You can’t do that! That’s not right! Take the knee to the face like a champion Hopkins.”
JOHNSON: “I don’t know how that makes sense.”
VASSA: “I don’t care! It’s not right!”
JOHNSON: “Hopkins back up and so is CJ O’Donnell… Hopkins with a front face lock… he spins in mid air as he pulls O’Donnell up into the air!”

SLLLAAAAAAAMM!!!
JOHNSON: “BREAD N’ BUTTER!”
And now Hopkins heads up towards the turnbuckle with his back towards O’Donnell in the middle of the ring after taking that spinning reverse facebuster. Hopkins gets to the top ropes and leaps, flipping himself backwards into the air and…
SSLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMM!!!
JOHNSON: “OMFG! OMFG! THE DOUBLESTOMP MOONSAULT!! JAIR HOPKINS HOOKING THE LEG OF CJ O’DONNELL IN THE CENTER OF THE RING… THIS CROWD ON THEIR FEET AS THE REFEREE MAKES THE COUNT!!”
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!
DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!
JOHNSON: “JAIR HOPKINS PICKS UP A HUGE VICTORY OVER CJ O’DONNELL HERE TONIGHT! WHAT A MATCH WE JUST SAW!!”
VASSA: “This was a tragedy. It was a great match, but a total tragedy.”
JOHNSON: “Are those tears, Vinny?”
As “Fate” by Ces Cru once again plays out over the Key Arena here in Seattle, Washington the referee holds the arm of Jair Hopkins high into the air in victory. The crowd gives a standing applause for the effort and for the victory here tonight as Jair takes to the turnbuckle, and thanks them for the support.
POWERS: “Here is your winner by pinfall, JAIR HHOOPPKKIINNSS!!!”

Heading backstage we are greeted by the site of Frankie Morrison standing by with Gabriel Hartman looking ready for a interview. The two are about to start but the sounds of heels against the floor indicate the entrance of someone else, who ends up being Carmella Wilder catching both men’s attention as well as the fans at home.
CARMELLA: “Frankie! Was meaning to come by after your interview, I apologize. Just wanted to come by and introduce myself formally, I know that we have spoken online before. But given our clients are soon to be competing, I thought it best we have words.”
Frankie nods his head Gabriel getting pushed into the background now, as the two come together.
MORRISON: ”Carmella! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, heard–“
Suddenly the two are interrupted by the higher pitched tone of a younger kid’s voice. Frankie’s shoulder drop and he begins to roll his eyes as the 4CW Pride Champion turns the corner with his title draped over his shoulder. Drawing a glare from Frankie and nervousness from Carmella as the Pride Champion, Jett approaches.
JETT: “Mom I need a few bucks for the soda machine…Wait what are you doing talking to him?”
CARMELLA: “We are just having discussion, we don’t have any issues with Frankie remember?”
JETT: “No issues? This old dude is managing the guy I am going to demolish to keep my title. He’s probably planning out ways to hurt me as we speak. Just look at him, looks like a Mob boss or something.”
Jett rants while Frankie stares him down, one may be the wrestler but on face value Morrison is a much more imposing face at the least. Frankie shakes his head in disbelief before turning his attention back towards Carmella.
MORRISON: “Carmella you strike me as a very intelligent woman. It may be wise to advise your son that my client, Chris Madison, is not the kind of person that you want to enrage before stepping into the ring with. It would be a real shame if Jett was never able to live up to his potential because he picked a fight with the wrong person.”
Before Carmella can interject Jett quickly mouths off back at him.
JETT: “You think I’m scared of Chris Madison? I am the Pride Champion. What belt’s he got? Nothing. I’m the champion, he’s MY challenger. So you best show me some respect.”
Frankie laughed at the riled up 4CW Pride Champion prompting another outburst.
JETT: “What’s so funny? Mom, tell him!”
CARMELLA: “Jett, sweetie… Just try and calm down.”
MORRISON: “I’d listen to your mother if I were you. Chris has nearly doubled your win total in his short stint in 4CW. He’s been as dominant as anyone who has climbed into that ring. On paper he may be the challenger and you may be the champ but you surely are the underdog. A couple of lucky breaks doesn’t make you a true champion.”
JETT: “Mom are you really going to let this old guy talk to me like that? Tell him to stop! I’m the Pride Champion! I’m the best wrestler in this company!”
CARMELLA: “Jett, dear…”
Jett stumbles forward, dropping his 4CW Pride Championship to the ground. Madison snuck up behind the young champion and intentionally shouldered him in the shoulder blade. Jett looks stunned as Madison helps himself to the 4CW Pride Championship, picking it up off of the ground with one hand.
MADISON: “Everything good Frankie?”
MORRISON: “Yeah… Just having a little discussion here with Carmella and Jett.”
Madison looks at Jett, eyeing him up from head to toe.
MADISON: “The fact that you won this championship is an embarrassment to the company. Maybe I should just hold onto this until Winter Wasteland…”
Jett reaches out and grabs the belt with two hands and tries to pull the belt back from Madison. The two tug back and forth for a bit before Madison releases the belt, allowing the champion to stumble backwards.
JETT: “You are a jerk. This is my belt, keep your hands off of it. That right there was the first and LAST time you’ll ever touch my Pride title. Mom stop talking to these losers, we’ll see them when I beat them later.!”
Jett shakes his head and then storms off leaving the three in a huff as his mother smiles.
CARMELLA: “See you gentleman later.”
Carmella flashes her smile to the two who seem much more willing to show her respect than the champion. As she walks the two of them watching her go, these two’s paths having crossed for what will surely be the first of many times.

Cut to backstage, where we see Bryan Williams sitting in the Trainer’s room. He’s being attended to by the medical staff, before his upcoming match with Lord Raab. One person applies the tape to his left shoulder, while another checks the cuts and bruises on his body. They remove the large bandage across his forehead, many of the stitches are now gone. With a thumbs up, the staff leaves the room as Aidan Carlisle enters.
WILLIAMS: “What’s up, partner? Making sure I’m still in one piece?”
CARLISLE: “Something like that.”
Aidan forces a little smile as she looks from him to his shoulder and back again.
CARLISLE: “You sure you’re good for this?”
WILLIAMS: “Yeah, they just gave me a cortisone shot before you came in, along with the tape and it should hold together for this match. That is of course, if Raab doesn’t hurt it at all. I’m hoping with the time off before Wasteland, I should be one hundred percent.”
CARLISLE: “Well, I’m not your mother, and I’m not your girlfriend. I’m not here to fuss over you and tell you that you shouldn’t do this. If you say you’re good, I believe you.”
WILLIAMS: “Yep, kind of worked out in my favor with this match getting changed. Way to see the future, partner. Anything in that crystal ball of yours about us keeping our titles after Winter Wasteland?”
Aidan’s face darkens noticeably for a few moments, but she forces the expression away.
CARLISLE: “The Tag Team Championships belong to Art of War. They aren’t leaving until we say so. Those Unable fucks can stroke their cocks and gargle each other’s jizz all they want over how great they think they are, but that match will end the same as the final round of the tournament at Fright Night. You and I with our hands held high, and them facedown on the mat where they belong.”
Bryan nods, laughing at Aidan’s colorful use of the English language. He stands up, a fistbump between the champs occurs.
WILLIAMS: “I’m not worried, we put them in the ground last time. They want to try again, then by all means. Besides, I got some payback coming towards Riddle’s way, lemme get through Raab tonight and you have my entire focus.”
Bryan pauses for a moment.
WILLIAMS: “You aren’t going to get involved in this one, are you?”
A mocking tone, Bryan sticks his tongue out as Aidan shoves him.
CARLISLE: “Well, all of a sudden I do feel like hitting something with a chair, now that you mention it.”
WILLIAMS: “That was totally Stevenson’s fault, by the way!”
Aidan smirks a bit at her partner’s sudden joking backstroking.
CARLISLE: “I don’t say ‘good luck,’ because luck is for pussies and Unstable members. So… kick some ass. Embrace every second. Let it all go. Make me proud.”
WILLIAMS: “Fair enough. I have business to take care of. See you later!”
With that, Bryan grabs his title and walks out of the room. One of the medical personnel looks at her and starts to take a step forward like he wants to look her over after her match, but she holds up a hand to stop him, turning to leave as well.

HEADLINE
EXTREME RULES
LORD RAAB VS. BRYAN WILLIAMS
“Monster” by Skillet plays over the sound system as Lord Raab comes out through the curtain with Henry Losak.
POWERS: “Introducing to the ring first, from Cologne, Germany, weighing in at two hundred fifty pounds… He is ‘the Green Disease German Monster,’ LORD RAAAABB!!!”
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 together 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.
“Ever notice that you come across somebody once in a while 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.
“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 the 4CW Tag Team Championship 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 and ten pounds… 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 towards the ring. 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 and once again holding his title for all to see.
JOHNSON: “We have already had one violent and brutal match here earlier tonight, the evidence is still all over down here at ringside, and now here comes a second to add to the carnage. ”
VASSA: “Lord Raab has been all fired up, disparaging Bryan and his mean ass tag team partner. Bryan, on the other hand, has been calm but determined.”
JOHNSON: “Over the weeks we’ve seen a big change in Bryan Williams, from the happy-go-lucky man he started out as in 4CW to someone who… well, someone who asked Perry Wallace, supposedly his adoptive father, to change this match to Extreme Rules.”
VASSA: “Blame Aidan, she did this. And she hurt me”
JOHNSON: “Well, I wouldn’t quite put it exactly like that, but I think it is fair to say that Aidan has had some influence on Bryan as his tag partner, yes. One could argue it has maybe been for the better, however, after his showing last Adrenaline against Rorie Steele.”
As the referee checks with him, Bryan gives a nod that he is ready. Raab, on the other hand, doesn’t quite respond to the official’s inquiry. After a few moments, the ref calls for the bell anyway to get the match under way.
DING!!! DING!!!
Raab leaps up and out of his corner as soon as the shrill ringing begins to echo, charging across the ring at break-neck speed. Before Williams has the chance to counter Raab hits a big spinebuster that leaves Bryan holding his back for a few moments as he gets to his feet. Raab rushes him again, but this time Williams is ready and catches the German in the face with a sharp forearm strike. Bryan whips Raab to the ropes and spins a full three-sixty as the masked man rebounds, blasting him with a roaring elbow that knocks Raab to the mat!
Williams leans down to grab Raab’s legs, going for a submission maneuver, but Raab pulls back both feet and shoves Bryan off with a forceful kick. Raab is ready with a European uppercut when Williams comes back at him, spinning the other man half-way around and opening him up for a release German suplex! Williams rolls all the way through to a crouch, wincing as he holds his left shoulder for a few moments.
JOHNSON: “Williams in a bit of pain there. For fans that don’t know. Bryan had a huge match on New Year’s Eve against Boardwalk’s Unstable member Amber Ryan. That match left him with a concussion and injured shoulder. While he’s been cleared to wrestle, you can see that he’s got that arm taped up.”
VASSA: “Bryan knows there are more important things than your personal well-being. Like kicking the shit out of your opponent! I hope he doesn’t get hurt though. I like that guy.”
JOHNSON: “…Are you sure you’re okay, Vinny? …Anyway, Personally I think this was a bad decision on Bryan’s part. He’s still young, he’s got a long career ahead of him, but not if he keeps taking risks like this.”
Raab hits the ropes for extra momentum as he comes leaping in for a flying crossbody, but Williams stands and catches him! A look of pain crosses Bryan’s face briefly, but he pushes through, driving Lord Raab into the canvas with a go home driver! Wasting no time, Williams follows up with a huge stomp to Raab’s right arm. Then another! And another!
Stalking over to the corner, Williams steps up onto the middle rope, and all the way to the top turnbuckle! With his left arm tucked against himself, he sails off backwards and flips all the way over in a high arch, landing a moonsault right across Raab’s chest that leaves the ring rattling! Bryan pounds his fist against the mat as the impact jars his injured shoulder, but pushes to his feet in spite of the pain.
Lord Raab is already ready, viciously grabbing William’s left arm and whipping him down to the mat with an armdrag. He then twists the arm around behind Bryan into a hammerlock, giving a hard yank! Williams growls in a mix of pain and frustration, throwing his right elbow back into the side of the German’s head. Raab ignores the blow and drives his forehead into the back of Bryan’s head!
VASSA: “Oh, Williams is seeing stars after that one. Good, I don’t like him.”
JOHNSON: “But you just said you liked him. …Raab has spotted the weakness in that shoulder, and you know he’s going to exploit it every chance he gets now.”
VASSA: “Bryan knew what he was getting into, he has to pay the price! He’s got this, anyway. He’s just luring Raab in, that’s all.”
In a surprising move, Raab goes for the pin instead of looking to do additional damage, mostly at the shouted urging of his manager, Henry Losak, from outside the ring.
ONE
.
.
TW—KICKOUT!!!
Bryan quickly gets the shoulder up and rolls away from the pin, right out of the ring. He catches the bottom rope with his good hand to keep from falling completely and plants his boots on the ground. Knowing Lord Raab will be quick to follow, Williams immediately begins digging under the ring to drag out various weapons.
The masked one is at the ropes in a flash, leaning over and grabbing a fistful of Bryan’s hair! He starts to lift him off of the ground but Williams comes up with a kendo stick and whips it into the side of Raab’s head with a huge CRACK!!! Raab reels back and Bryan goes right back to pulling more objects from behind the apron cover.
Meanwhile, Lord Raab has rolled out the adjoining side of he ring and done a bit of searching of his own! As he rounds the corner and steps up over the ring stairs, he swings a light tube at Williams, shattering it right across the back of his shoulders! Bryan hisses as fragments of glass stick in his skin and blood beings to roll down his back.
VASSA: “First blood goes to Lord Raab! More, more Raab! Make Bryan pay for being partners with Aidan! Have I mentioned how much I love Extreme Rules matches?”
JOHNSON: “Oh, once or twice, Vinny.”
VASSA: “Good, because I do! Now, come on Bryan, make Raab pay for talking shit about your partner!”
Williams stands quickly, taking the shiny trash can lid in his hand and throwing it right at Lord Raab. As the German catches it, Bryan hits a thunderous superkick, driving the lid right into Raab’s face! As Raab stumbles back into the barricade, blood begins to run out from under his mask! Williams snatches the trash can lid away and holds it high overhead before bringing it crashing down right on Raab’s head with an echoing SMACK!!! Bryan is prepared to do it again, but the lid has bent beyond usefulness and he tosses it aside.
Williams turns back to the pile of weapons he’s pulled from beneath the ring and picks the kendo stick back up. Swinging it around once in his hand, he then lays into Raab again and again as the audience counts off the blows!
WHACK!!!
.
.
“One!”
.
.
CRACK!!!
.
.
“Two!”
.
.
THUD!!!
.
.
“Three!”
.
.
SMACK!!!
.
.
“Four!”
.
.
CRUNCH!!!
.
.
“Five!”
The kendo stick snaps in half with the final shot, splintered and useless. Bryan tosses it aside in the same direction he had discarded the trash can lid. After a moment of consideration he backs up, runs, and leaps up onto the top of the barricade! With a few quick strides on top of the short wall in Lord Raab’s direction, he flies off and hits a leaping enziguri! Raab crumples to the floor and Williams dives in for a pin.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
KICKOUT!!!
JOHNSON: “Raab just threw Bryan off of him. He’s not done yet, not by a long shot!”
VASSA: “I’m glad, because things were just starting to get good! I’m not ready for this to end yet.”
Raab sends a huge booted foot right into the gut of Williams, forcing Bryan to double over. Raab locks up both of his arms, pulling back hard and straining the already injured shoulder before heaving Williams over onto the pile of weapons with a double underhook suplex! Bryan can’t seem to decide whether he wants to hold his back or his shoulder as he rolls off of the painful implements.
Raab steps over, picking up a chair from the pile. He sets it up at the bottom of the ramp before rounding on Williams. He grabs Bryan by the hair and drags him over, slamming him face first down onto the metal before leaving him on his knees with his head laying on the seat of the chair. The German backs up a few paces before he runs in, looking for a leg drop to Bryan’s head! Williams falls back out of the way before it can hit! Lord Raab changes direction and spears Bryan right into the apron!!!
Williams is crushed between the unmoving ring and the big German. Raab grabs Bryan’s arms and hangs them up on the ropes behind him to keep him from falling. He launches into a series of boxing punches; a jab, a hook, a cross, a wild haymaker all into the face and head of Williams. The diseased monster then changes his focus, laying into Bryan’s gut and ribs.
VASSA: “Oooh, you know Williams is going to be feeling those for days. Hah!”
JOHNSON: “Bryan is in a bad way right now. Lord Raab has him right where he wants him.”
Williams unhooks his good arm from the ropes, but Raab is still right there, cackling gleefully as he drives his face into Bryan’s forehead with a headbutt! Blood begins to pour down Williams’ face from a split at his hairline. Raab hits a second! And a third! The German’s mask is awash in blood, both his own and Bryan’s!
Raab pulls back, looking for a big clothesline to finish Williams off. But Bryan ducks around behind him and wraps him up! Williams growls with the effort as he hurls Raab over backwards with a release German suplex… right on top of the chair! Raab lands spine first directly on the back portion of the chair, practically folding in half before he slumps to the ground. Bryan swoops in for the pin.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THR—KICKOUT!!!
JOHNSON: “Raab kicked out! Raab kicked out after that!”
VASSA: “Bryan can’t believe it, look at his face! Are you going to cry, Bryan?! Cry! Cry!”
Williams shakes off the shock quickly and moves to the pile of weapons, grabbing the first thing he can get his hands on: a golf club. He stalks back to Raab and clubs him between the shoulders with the five iron. Raab rolls away once, but Bryan follows and hits him again! Another retreat brings the German half way up the ramp, but Williams is relentless. Bryan turns sideways and lines up like he’s going for a hole in one before he swings the golf club into the ribs of Lord Raab with a THUD! The audience cheers wildly.
“HO-LY SHIT!!! HO-LY SHIT!!! HO-LY SHIT!!!”
A slow grin spreads over Williams’ face as the chant goes on and gets louder. He soaks in the words and the feeling of uninhibited violence before dropping the club. Bryan’s grin widens as he drops a knee right into the ribs he had just assaulted. He drops a second into Raab’s bloody mask. Standing on the diseased one’s fingers so that he can’t move his hand, Williams then stomps away at his forearm, elbow, and shoulder over and over again.
Lord Raab suddenly snatches up the abandoned golf club with his other hand, swinging it into the legs of Bryan, who stumbles backward, holding his knee and almost tripping over the chair that is still sitting in place. Raab advances quickly, five iron held up high over his head. Williams barely manages to get the chair up in time to keep from having the golf club crack his skull. The two weapons collide with a resounding CLANG!!! Bryan closes the chair around the club and uses it to rip it out of Raab’s hands.
The German puts a big boot into William’s damaged ribs and scoops him up, slamming him down on top of the pile of remaining weapons with a vengeance. The masked monster holds on, hooking the leg and going for another pin attempt.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THR—KICKOUT!!!
Bryan heaves his good shoulder up before the official can get to three, but that’s not all! In his hand is a blender carafe, which he drives right into the side of Raab’s head! The glass shatters on impact and rains down over the both of them. Williams hauls himself to his feet, picking up the base of the carafe where the pointed metal elements and a few jagged shards of glass are exposed. He places it face down in the center of the German’s chest…
VASSA: “Yes!”
JOHNSON: “Oh no, what is Bryan going to do…”
VASSA: “Do it, do it! Oh my god now I know why Aidan likes this so much! But god she’s a bitch! I hate her!”
Williams stomps down, driving the sharp, pointed metal pieces and broken glass deep into Raab’s chest! Raab clutches at Bryan’s leg, trying to throw him off while Williams sneers down at him. Reaching out and grabbing onto the bottom rope for balance, Bryan puts all of his weight on the one foot, twisting it back and forth to grind the improvised weapon in Raab’s flesh!
Williams sees Raab get his hand on a piece from the splintered kendo stick just in time to hop out of reach and avoid being stabbed in the leg with it. Raab lunges again and Bryan hops back a second time. Williams slides back into the the ring and leans over the top rope, grabbing the masked German by the hair, starting to pull him up. Raab takes the back of Bryan’s head in both hands and drops back to the floor, choking him across the top rope! Bryan stumbles back into the ring holding his throat.
Instead of following after his opponent, Raab ducks down, reaching beneath the apron. He searches for several seconds before he comes up with a heavy canvas bag. The diseased monster rolls back in as well while Williams is still recovering. Opening up the bag, Raab pours out the contents. Thumbtacks spread over the canvas, rolling in all directions!
Bryan turns around as Raab tosses the bag aside, seeing the state of the mat. He looks from the canvas to Raab and back again. Finally, a slow smirk spreads across his face. He circles the big German slowly, completing almost a full circuit of the ring. Suddenly, he swipes his foot through the tacks, sending them up into Raab’s face! As Raab goes to shield himself, Williams lunges in!
Lord Raab catches Bryan right by the throat!!! Williams grabs Raab’s hand with both of his, trying to break the hold. Raab laughs maniacally as he picks Bryan clean up off of his feet. The audience gives a collective gasp as Raab drives Williams down onto the mat, onto all the thumbtacks, with a chokeslam powerbomb!!!
JOHNSON: “The Raabinator!”
VASSA: “And he’s going for the pin!”
JOHNSON: “Could this be it for Bryan Williams?!”
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THRE—KICKOUT!!!
VASSA: “It’s not the end! Bryan is too good for anyone to beat ever!”
As Bryan gets the shoulder up, he’s got thumbtacks embedded all over him, his skin glittering in the light from their shiny surfaces. Raab snarls in frustration as he pounds his fists on the mat, heedless of the tacks that he gets in himself in the process. The masked monster stands and immediately grabs Williams’ legs, flipping him over onto his stomach and driving even more thumbtacks into his belly and chest!
Raab steps over Bryan’s legs and sits back, folding him in half with a Boston crab! Williams is bent over so far backwards that Raab is literally sitting on his back, putting all that extra weight into forcing Bryan down on the bed of thumbtacks beneath him!!! Williams growls in pain as his body is assaulted with hundreds and hundreds of tiny stabs. He curls his fists in his hair to fight against it as Raab continues to crank back with the submission maneuver.
Williams suddenly spots something and his arm stretches out. He strains, fingers scrabbling at the mat. Finally, he gets his hands on… a big shard of glass from the broken blender carafe! He twists as far as he can and swipes back with his hand, catching Lord Raab across the back with the jagged glass! Raab lets go out of shock and Bryan immediately pulls himself away, getting to his feet.
Both Bryan’s back and chest are covered from one end to the other with thumbtacks, looking like some sort of demented armor. Williams shakes his head and snarls as he rakes his hands across his stomach and pectorals, ripping out as many of them as he can in the motion. Blood begins to seep from the hundreds of punctures.
JOHNSON: “Oh my god! Bryan Williams is a horror show right now! His back is cut from the light tube, his face is bleeding from those headbutts, and now those thumbtacks have done a number on him. Not to mention his shoulder! Can he possibly be ready for Winter Wasteland after this?!”
VASSA: “You’re thinking too far ahead, Steve. Can Bryan even make it to the end of the match?! I hope not, I hate that guy.”
Williams stalks over to one of the corners, beginning to remove the pad from the top turnbuckle. When he tosses it aside, he unwinds a length of steel chain from around it that was hiding underneath!
JOHNSON: “Hey… doesn’t that chain belong to Bryan’s partner, Aidan? She’s used that before!”
VASSA: “Traitorous harpy!”
Bryan’s grin grows from ear to hear as he holds one end of the chain and wraps it around his hand again and again. He curls his hand into a fist and just as Raab lunges at him, he slams the steel-covered hand right into the German’s face! Williams draws back again and hits a massive right cross. He nails a low roundhouse to the same ribs he had assaulted with the golf club. Another steel-chain jab catches Raab on the jaw, and then Williams hits a big spinning heel kick that knocks the masked one into the corner.
The look on Bryan’s face is sheer excitement as he sees that the base of the blender carafe is still embedded in Raab’s chest, just hanging there! Charging across the ring, Bryan blasts him with a single leg dropkick to finish off the Raging Demon combo! The kick hits the blender base and drives in the metal prongs and glass again!!!
Not missing a beat to savor his work, Williams wraps the chain around Raab’s throat and uses it to yank him to his feet. He tucks the shoulder, still holding the chain, and lifts Raab up onto his shoulders! Bryan cranks hard on the chain, using it for extra leverage on a torture rack! After several agonizing moments, he drops to his knees for an argentine backbreaker!!!
Bryan drops, just about to go for the pin when Raab takes a handful of thumbtacks and slaps them right into Williams’ face!!! Bryan rolls away, both hands covering his face. The referee hurries over, trying to get him to pull his hands away so that he can make sure Williams’ eyes weren’t injured in the assault. The official barely ducks back in time to avoid being collateral damage from a running knee to the head by Raab!
Raab drives his knee into Bryan’s head a second time! And a third! The masked monster has recovered the chain Bryan was using, and now wraps it around Bryan’s neck to pull him up! Raab continues using the chain as he ducks behind Williams, and locks him up for a massive modified German suplex right back into the sea of thumbtacks, bridging for the pin!
VASSA: “Killerpin with the chain!”
JOHNSON: “Is Bryan turning blue?!”
The ref slides in and carefully finds a spot not covered in tacks.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THRE—KICKOUT!!!
JOHNSON: “Oh my god Bryan got the shoulder up!”
Williams rolls out of the pin and all the way to his feet. The moment Raab starts to get up as well, Bryan sprints in, plants a foot on Raab’s knee and uses it as a step to drive the other leg into Lord Raab’s temple with a shining wizard kick! He locks up the monster’s head with his one good arm and pulls the other man to his feet. With just his right arm to do the work, Bryan heaves Raab off of the mat, up into the air… and drops him onto his knee with a single-arm brainbuster!
VASSA: “A one-armed Cross Over Attack from Bryan Williams! Isn’t he amazing, Steve?!”
JOHNSON: “Can you imagine the strength that took?!”
Williams kicks Raab’s arms in close to his sides, standing over the diseased German monster before he holds his right hand down and extends his middle finger right in Lord Raab’s face! Bryan then drops down and hooks the leg with his right arm, keeping his left tucked against his stomach. The referee is reluctant to slide to the mat with all the thumbtacks still around, but finds himself a spot.
ONE
.
.
TWO
.
.
THREE!!!
DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!
JOHNSON: “He did it! Bryan Williams has defeated Lord Raab!”
VASSA: “Williams did what he said he would! He sent Lord Raab packing to Fate with a humiliating defeat!”
JOHNSON: “I wouldn’t call it humiliating, Vinny. Raab put up one hell of a fight. Bryan is bleeding from head to toe!”
The referee helps Bryan get to his feet, holding his right hand up in the air as Williams continues to hold his left arm tight against his body. In spite of all the blood, he throws his head back in victory as he is handed his Tag Team Championship.
POWERS: “And here is your winner… Bryaaan Williaaams!!!”
JOHNSON: “A huge night for the Tag Team Champions, Art of War, as both Aidan Carlisle and Bryan Williams see singles victories.”
VASSA: “Meanwhile, those Unstable assholes split it down the center so far with Cyrus Riddle practically murdering Darryl Wallace and Jair Hopkins putting CJ O’Donnell down for the three-count. Good, I hope it hurt. I hate Unstable.”
JOHNSON: “How does all of this shape the Tag Team Championship picture heading into Winter Wasteland where CJ and Cyrus, formerly the Distinguished Archetypes, will be the challengers against Art of War in their first title defense.”
VASSA: “Fucking Art of War! I hate those guys.”
JOHNSON: “Vinny… you just said you hate Unstable.”
VASSA: “Huh?”
JOHNSON: “Nevermind.”

We open up from the end of the match between Lord Raab and Bryan Williams to the backstage area. Heels are heard clicking against the ground, heading towards the camera. Gabriel Hartman slides into view as Rorie Steele walks into frame, passing by them as if she didn’t know they were there. Even at night, the beautiful brunette wore sunglasses. She was dressed in her street clothes, a tight, strappy dress, clearly on her way out. Behind her was the kid she usually dragged around for her promos as a cameraman. He held her bag and a few other items, clearly struggling. Gabriel clears his throat, which doesn’t seem to get her attention. He finally steps towards her, gently touching her arm.
HARTMAN: “Uhh… Miss Steele! Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”
Rorie looked down at his hand on her arm as she stopped. She had a look of disgust on her face. She turned, moving her arm away from him. He recoiled, smiling at her as he acted as if nothing had happened. She slightly shrugged her shoulders, walking towards the camera. She removed her sunglasses, tossing them to the kid. He fumbled with them for a second but eventually held onto them. She stood there, looking at Gabriel, waiting for him to say something. Her sheer beauty was enough to make a man fall silent.
STEELE: “Well… go on.”
HARTMAN: “Excuse me. My apologies. I’m here with Rorie Steele, who won her match against Bradley Stevens earlier tonight. How do you feel about your win?”
She looks down, inspecting her nails for a moment.
STEELE: “Did anyone really have any doubts that I wouldn’t beat that little douchebag? It was easy. This was exactly what I needed to get me back into my old groove. A body to step on, beginning my ascent into the position of Queen. Since we all know that’s where I belong anyways.”
She brings her head up, smirking lazily at Gabriel.
HARTMAN: “Well going off on what you just said, fans saw some choice words from you towards one half of the tag team champions, Aidan Carlisle. Can you give us some information on that?”
STEELE: “Information? I’m pretty sure there’s nothing to give. I don’t like her. She acts as if she’s the queen of 4CW… but the truth is, she’s just a little bitch. Alpha should be the one who leads the way. Not the one who bows down and submits to a man. Reserve that for the bedroom. Don’t claim to be something you’re not. I would never let a man tell me what to do. Again… unless it is during one of those times when I feel like being dominated in the bedroom. I call the shots. Everyone else submits to me.”
She turns her head, looking at her camera boy, whatever his name is. She raises her hand, curling her index finger towards herself. He cautiously walks into the view of the camera.
STEELE: “Take… Steve here. Or Nick… James, Jackson… whatever the fuck. Take this guy here. He could do… anything at all in the world for a job. But I was the first one to give him one. And damn, do I pay well. But consider this for a moment. He could leave at any time. He could have left when I told him to leave his girlfriend and forget he even has a family. But what did he do? Stayed. Because he’s smart enough to realize that when I tell him I will make his life a living hell if he ever leaves on his own free will, I mean it. He submits to me, just like everyone else will, eventually. Now get out of my fucking shot.”
She pushes him back out of view, turning back to Gabriel. She smiles sweetly at him.
HARTMAN: “Well alrighty then. Now, we’ve heard some rumors about a possible man in your life. Is this true?”
Rorie shakes her head.
STEELE: “I have many men in my life. I have separate men paying for different things that I have. My condo in New Orleans is paid for by my ex James. My limo is provided by another ex named Mike. And the countless others paying for other things. As for a boyfriend, which I assume you’re getting at, the answer is no. I don’t have boyfriends. I have fun. I do what I want, when I want. And I don’t care who knows about it.”
She smirks again.
STEELE “I’ll leave you with one last thing. You’re all just beginning to see the rise of Rorie Steele. You will all submit to me. On your hands and knees. Begging me for approval. You’ll see. Now I have things to see, stuff to sign, and people to do.”
Before Gabriel can say another word, Rorie turns from the camera, walking away. She is heard one last time, addressing her cameraboy.
STEELE: “It’s time to go, Nick! Jesus Christ! You need to learn fucking cues.”
Gabriel watches the woman leave, turning back to the camera when she’s out of view.
HARTMAN: “Ladies and gentlemen… Rorie Steele…”



MAIN EVENT
JETT WILDER & BRONX VALESCENCE
VS.
CHRIS MADISON & JASON CASHE
JOHNSON: “Up next ladies and gentlemen we have our main event! How are you feeling over there, Vinny? Is the head doing okay?”
VASSA: “I think I’ll manage, I’ve made it this far.”
JOHNSON: “Hopefully you don’t fall out on us because we have some good old fashioned tag team action coming up next.”
VASSA: “I don’t know if you can technically consider it good old fashioned. Chris Madison and Jason Cashe could very well team up easily but Bronx and Jett Wilder are an odd pairing.”
JOHNSON: “They are but Cashe and Madison haven’t teamed up before in 4CW, maybe not even anywhere else.”
VASSA: “They’re Unstable though so obviously they’re a team. But Bronx and Jett on the other hand, these two haven’t really team up at all. They don’t have any chemistry unless you count some random twitter interactions.”
JOHNSON: “This match isn’t too odd of a booking. Just two weeks ago Jett Wilder won the 4CW Pride Championship after defeating John Austin in our main event. That same night, Chris Madison was given a shot at the Pride Championship against the winner of that match. So with Jett winning the championship, it’s now going to be him and Chris going head to head at Winter Wasteland.”
VASSA: “I can see why those two are in this match but what’s up with Cashe and Bronx?”
JOHNSON: “These two have had a few matches together since Fright Night when Cashe threw Bronx off the top of the cage and put him through the booth with a UTI. Just two weeks ago Cashe defended the XTV Championship against Bronx and Lord Raab.”
VASSA: “That was one hell of a match! Bronx broke his new hoverboard over Cashe’s head. Cashe set Raab on fire. Hell, even Raab powerbomb Cashe through a table while Cashe suplex Bronx at the same time. There were some crazy spots in that match!”
JOHNSON: “Well since you remember, then you know that Cashe pinned Raab for the win only after Bronx threw him on top. Without even knowing what was happening, Bronx basically set Cashe up for the win and just couldn’t break up the pin in time. With what these two have been through, Bronx being Perry’s son and Unstable placing a target on Perry’s head, I can only imagine that these two will be going head to head at Winter Wasteland.”
VASSA: “Stop lying, I received the same email you did. Bronx versus Cashe for the XTV Championship is definitely happening.”
JOHNSON: “If you knew then why are you asking about the significance of this match?”
VASSA: “What match?”
JOHNSON: “Vinny, are you sure that you’re okay? You took a nasty hit to the head and it’s clearly affected your mental state, although it was in rough shape to begin with.”
VASSA: “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, I’m perfectly fi– OH MY GOD!!! I have blood on my shirt! What happened?!”
JOHNSON: “We’re going to need to get your head examined after the match, Vinny.”
VASSA: “I would love some head! Who’s buying?”
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 a tag team match and is scheduled for one fall!”
Out from the back dancing and wilding out, is Jett Wilder, holding the 4CW Pride Championship 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 first, 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! He is the 4CW Pride Champion, 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 his partner!”
“What You Know About That” by TI hits over the house system as smoke fills the top of the entrance ramp. Bronx with his head down walks out to the top of the ramp to stand in the smoke for a moment before he pulls his hands up slowly pointing two finger guns at the ring. He pulls the trigger before he twirls the said “guns” and places them back into his “holsters” on either side before he starts his business like walk to the ring.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Eastport, Maine, weighing in at two hundred five pounds and standing six feet tall, BRONX VVAALLEESSCCEENNCCEE!!!”
He slides with one knee up on the apron, wipes his feet and then flips over the top rope into the ring. Bronx then walks over to the middle rope and stands on it, surveying the crowd through his sunglasses before he hops off and walks over to his corner where he kicks up, using the top turnbuckle like a hammock as he waits for the bell.
VASSA: “These two are partners? What the hell is going on here?!”
JOHNSON: “Focus Vinny!”
VASSA: “I am focusing! I just don’t know what is going on in the ring right now. Why are these two partners?”
JOHNSON: “We went over this. You’re just going to have to catch the replay to get in the loop because I don’t have the time or patience to explain it to you again.”
VASSA: “They do make a kick ass team if I do say so myself.”
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.
POWERS: “And the opponents!”
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.
POWERS: “And his partner!”
The arena goes into a brief silence before Jason Cashe comes out from the back with the XTV Championship around his waist 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 XTV 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 until a fan holding a sign catches his attention.
WE MISS
CAITLYN
“SHITIVA”
JENNER
Cashe stops in his tracks and bursts into laughter at the sight of the sign. Walking over to the fan, Cashe poses beside the sign as the surrounding fans take pictures with their cellphones. Cashe then grabs the sign and rips it in half before rounding the corner of the ring and jogging up the steel stairs, getting up on the ring 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!!! THIS ONE IS FOR YOU SHITIVA!!!”
Dropping down, he puts his back into a nearby corner and awaits the bell.
VASSA: “Why are Cashe and Madison teaming up tonight? Are they making a run for the Tag Team Championships?”
JOHNSON: “No, CJ O’Donnell and Cyrus Riddle answered the open challenge earlier tonight. These two will be squaring off against Bronx and Jett.”
VASSA: “Bronx and Jett? What the hell?”
JOHNSON: “I can already tell that you’re going to be a pain in the ass for the rest of the evening.”
VASSA: “You’re not so bad yourself you bald geezer!”
JOHNSON: “Thank you?”
VASSA: “Don’t mention it, Steve! It’s a pleasure to work with you and I couldn’t ask for a better caddy to help me achieve this greatness.”
JOHNSON: “Maybe we should get you some icepacks to place on your head.”
VASSA: “A shot of whiskey and some toot would be nice.”
Both corners talk amongst themselves while the ref awaits who will officially start the match for each team. Coming to a quick decision, Cashe exits the ring and steps onto the apron, leaving Madison to start things. Across the ring, Jett and Bronx continue to discuss things. Jett tells Bronx to leave the ring but Bronx fires back and yells for him to leave the ring. The two go back and forth for a moment before Carmella screams from the outside, grabbing Jett’s attention. She points for him to stand on the apron. Jett then turns to Bronx and shakes his head with a look of disappointment on his face while Bronx laughs in his face, amused at the sight of Carmella ordering him around. Jett climbs through the ropes and onto the apron while Bronx removes his coat and places it onto the apron beside Jett. Turning back to the ring, Bronx removes his sunglasses and places them in his waistband while behind him, Jett kicks his coat to the floor.
VASSA: “Those two argue like siblings.”
JOHNSON: “These two normally don’t tag with one another so some miscommunication is to be expected.”
VASSA: “Miscommunication? That’s what you call this?”
The official then looks to Bronx and as he does, Bronx points both hands at him as if they were guns and fires them both, giving the signal that he’s ready to get down to business. Turning to the opposite corner, the officially looks to Madison who bounces back and forth in his corner with Cashe yelling at him from behind, firing him up. Madison then nods to the ref, officially signaling that he’s ready. With both wrestlers ready to get things underway, the official slowly raises his arm into the air, inch by inch, building the anticipation before he swings it downward and signals for the bell.
DING!!! DING!!!
Bronx and Madison approach each other until meeting face to face in the center of the ring. Locking eyes, the two stare at one another for a short moment in silence as the tension builds between the two. Bronx then takes a step back and raises his hand into the air, waving his fingers and calling for Madison to lock hands with him. Madison then raises his and just as the two hands touch, Bronx takes a step back and adjusts his hair, brushing it back and out of his face. Slightly irritated, Madison stomps his foot to the canvas and yells for Bronx to lock hands with him. Bronx then steps forward and slowly raises his hand as the crowd awaits in silence for the two to lock up. Taking his time, Bronx slowly moves his hand towards Madison’s, leaving his hanging above their heads longer and longer. Just as the two are about to touch, Bronx then kicks Madison in the stomach, forcing him to lunge over from the blow to the stomach.
Popping back up, Madison is met with a spinning heel kick, that knocks him backwards across the ring and into the ropes. Bouncing off the ropes, Madison charges Bronx but runs into his clutches as Bronx lifts him up from the mat and throws him over his head with a belly to belly suplex. Hitting the mat hard, Madison rolls up to his feet in a fluid motion only to surprise Bronx as he stands up and faces him. Madison then spins around and charges towards Bronx, lunging at him to lock up but Bronx side steps him and takes him face-first to the canvas with a drop toe hold. Madison pushes himself up to all fours and as he does, Bronx takes off towards the ropes in front of him. Coming back on the rebound, Bronx hits Madison in the face with a running big boot as he raises up on both knees.
VASSA: “Bronxy V is off to a great start against the newcomer Chris Madison!”
JOHNSON: “Newcomer? Chris Madison is undefeated in 4CW with nine wins to his name here.”
VASSA: “Either way, Bronx is off to a great start and what you just said made it sound even more impressive.”
JOHNSON: “Please let me know if you get lightheaded or dizzy, Vinny.”
Grabbing ahold of Madison’s head, Bronx rolls him over and then pulls him up to his feet. Turning Madison around, Bronx wraps him up and goes for a belly to back suplex but instead catches an elbow to the side of the head as Madison throws one back. Breaking away from Bronx’s arms, Madison quickly spins around Bronx and positions himself behind him. Wrapping his arms around Bronx’s waist, Madison then lifts him up and falls backwards for a German suplex but Bronx rolls out while in the air and lands down on his feet while Madison does to the mat empty handed. Bronx then leaps into the air and comes down with a double knee drop aimed for Madison’s head but misses as Madison rolls out of the way, leaving him with nothing to cushion the impact.
Madison quickly pops to his feet as does Bronx. Catching Bronx off guard, Madison charges in with a series of low leg kicks to his knee. After breaking Bronx down to one knee, Madison then jumps into the air and hits Bronx underneath the chin with a flying knee, knocking him backwards and slamming his head against the canvas. Madison then leaps onto Bronx and positions himself beside him. Grabbing onto Bronx with both hands, Madison then unloads with repeated knee strikes to Bronx’s ribs, pounding them over and over as Bronx’s grunts with each one landed.
JOHNSON: “Things are in Madison’s favor now as he has Bronx on the mat right where he wants him.”
VASSA: “His ribs are going to be tender in the morning. Let’s cover him in barbeque sauce and throw him on the grill.”
JOHNSON: “That sounds disgusting, Vinny.”
VASSA: “I promise you it’s not. We’ll be sure to use gluten-free sauce. It’s healthy!”
Standing back to his feet, Madison grabs ahold of Bronx by the arm and pulls him up. He then turns Bronx around and sets him up for a pump-handle. After lifting Bronx into the air, Madison goes to throw him down but Bronx squirms his way out of the hold and slips over Madison’s shoulder, landing to his feet behind him. Turning around quickly, Madison opens himself up as Bronx leaps straight into the air and wraps his legs around Madison’s head. He then goes for a hurricanrana but Madison begins to take forward steps before jumping forward and slamming Bronx down with a powerbomb. Madison then covers Bronx for the pin as the official quickly rushes over for the count.
ONE
.
.
TW–
VASSA: “Jett finally grew a pair!”
JOHNSON: “Pinfall has been broken up by Jett who came in for the quick save.”
VASSA: “Let’s just say he finally grew a pair, it sounds better.”
Madison quickly pops up to his feet and turns his attention to Jett who slowly begins to back towards his corner. Madison then charges towards him and takes an overhead swing but hits the top turnbuckle as Jett dips through the ropes and exits to the apron. Madison then quickly reaches over the top rope and grabs ahold of him, pulling him close and face to face. Madison continues to hold Jett while intimidating him but after a few moments gets caught by surprise.
JOHNSON: “Chris should really pay more attention to the legal man.”
VASSA: “Here comes Bronx!”
Running in behind Madison, Bronx hits him in the back of the head with a forearm shot. Madison quickly releases his hold on Jett and as he does, Bronx spins him around and then whips him to the ropes across the ring. Just as Madison hits the ropes, Bronx bounces off the opposite ropes and the two charge head to head. Nearly decapitating Madison, Bronx knocks him to his back with a running European uppercut. He then drags Madison across the ring to his corner before pulling him up from the mat. Bronx then slams Madison into the corner with force before slapping hands with Jett and initiating the tag. While Jett climbs into the ring, Bronx grabs ahold of the top rope and uses it for leverage as he kicks Madison in the stomach over and over until breaking him down to a seated position.
JOHNSON: “This is what we’ve all been waiting for!”
VASSA: “What?”
JOHNSON: “Jett and Madison going head to head in the ring.”
VASSA: “What’s so special about them getting into the ring together?”
JOHNSON: “Just keep to yourself, Vinny. Okay?”
Before the official can get to the five count, Bronx exits the ring and climbs onto the apron. Backing away from the corner, Jett then runs forward and jumps into the air, hitting Madison in the face with a dropkick. Back to his feet, Jett then lifts Madison up and props him against the corner for a moment before wrapping him up, lifting him, and sitting him on top of the corner. Climbing the corner, Jett stands on the middle rope and grabs onto Madison’s head with one hand. He then draws his other hand back while balling it into a fist and swings down, connecting with a hard right and triggering the fans to count along.
“One!”
Amused by the reaction of the fans, Jett then swings down again, connecting with a second punch.
“Two!”
Feeling as if he has control of the crowd, Jett then begins throwing multiple punches as the crowd counts along.
“Three! … Four! … Five! … Six! … Se–“
Before Jett can connect with the seventh punch, Madison drives both of his fists forward and pushes Jett away. Flying backwards in the air, Jett falls to his back with a thud. Madison then stands up and steps even higher until standing on the top ropes. He then goes to jump away from the corner but as he does, Bronx reaches up and grabs ahold of the back of his tights. Knocking Madison off balance, Bronx then pushes him forward and while in mid-air, Madison’s body rolls and he lands on his back just after clearing Jett’s body.
JOHNSON: “Quick thinking by Bronx right there to break up that near big impact move.”
VASSA: “Did he just give Madison a wedgie?”
JOHNSON: “Mayyyyyyyybe?”
With both men down on the canvas, the official then begins a ten count.
“One! … Two! … Three! … Four!”
Both Jett and Madison begin to come to and slowly move around as the count continues.
“Five!”
Jett begins to push himself up from the mat first, followed by Madison right after.
“Six! … Seven!”
Standing first, Jett breaks the officials count before taking a step towards his corner where Bronx patiently awaits. Madison then sticks his foot out and trips Jett up, sending him crashing face-first to the mat. Madison then pops up and limps to his corner where Cashe leans over the top rope, yelling for the tag and eager to get in. The two slap hands for the tag as Cashe then dips through the ropes and charges towards Jett like a bull. As Jett gets to his knees, Cashe ducks his head and then dives forward, planting the top of his head into jett’s back, knocking him back to the canvas face-first. Cashe then crawls on top of Jett’s back and grabs him by the head with both hands, pressing his face into the canvas and then dragging it back and forth. Cashe then stands with Jett down between his legs and grabs his head again, pulling him up to his knees and bending him backwards. With Jett’s head held still with one hand, Cashe then looks up to Bronx in the corner watching and points at him. Cashe then takes his free hand and sticks his index finger in his mouth, covering it with spit before sticking it into Jett’s ear and giving him a Wet Willie.
Bronx gags at the sight while turning to look away as Cashe continues to pack the spit into Jett’s ear. Cashe then drags Jett to his feet and stands him up. Wiping the spit away from his ear, Jett forgets about everything else. Cashe then raises his leg and kicks Jett in the butt, sending him stumbling forward and crashing into the corner. As Jett collides into the corner, his arm flops over the top rope and hits Bronx in the shoulder. The official then recognizes it as a tag as Cashe licks his lips, daring Bronx to enter the ring. Leaning over the top rope, Bronx whispers into Jett’s ear as the camera zooms in to read his lips. “Sorry little buddy.” Bronx then pushes Jett away from the corner and catches Cashe off guard as Jett crashes into him. Climbing the corner, Bronx stands at the top and after Cashe manages to push Jett away, Bronx leaps into the air and wipes him out with a flying crossbody.
VASSA: “I thought Bronx and Jett were supposed to be partners?”
JOHNSON: “They are and Bronx decided to use Jett as a distraction against Cashe.”
VASSA: “Remind me never to tag with Bronx, he’s ruthless.”
JOHNSON: “It wasn’t that bad, he just pushed Jett into Cashe so he could buy some time for that aerial assault.”
On top of Cashe, Bronx then begins to swing violently, connecting with lefts and rights to Cashe’s head. Drawing back for a power punch, Bronx is quickly caught off guard as Cashe reaches up and grabs him by the head with both hands. Cashe then pulls Bronx’s head downward while lifting his upward and gives Bronx a brutal headbutt right between the eyes. Cashe then rolls Bronx off of him and over to the side. Crawling on top of Bronx, Cashe then swings three consecutive elbows, hitting Bronx with each one and briefly stunning him. Locking onto Bronx’s head with both hands, Cashe the raises it up from the mat while leaning forward and biting him across the top of his forehead.
VASSA: “Holy fucking shit, Cashe just bit Bronx! He’s a zombie!”
JOHNSON: “No he isn’t but definitely wasn’t legal.”
The official then pulls Cashe off of Bronx and yells into his ear, warning him for the illegal bite. With Cashe on his feet, the official then backs him across the ring and gives him an earful. Slow to get up, Bronx wipes Cashe’s spit away from his forehead. he then looks up to see the ref distracting him and takes off from stand still. As Bronx closes in, Cashe quickly notices and pushes the ref to the side out of harms way and as he does, Bronx tackles him into the ropes and the two flip up and over the top before crashing hard to the floor below. Both land on their sides and take the same amount of damage from the fall. Bronx then swings with his arm that he isn’t laying on and hits Cashe in his arm. Cashe then swings with the arm he isn’t laying on and hits Bronx in the arm. The two then go back and forth punching each other in the arm as the ref slowly begins to get back up in the ring.
Back on his feet, the official looks to the outside at the two exchanging arm punches and begins the ten count.
“One!”
Hearing the count, both then race to get up and standing to his feet first is Bronx. Bronx then punches Cashe in the side of the head as he raises up to his feet and Cashe then quickly counters with a forearm shot to the mouth, knocking Bronx back a step.
“Two!”
Bronx lunges forward at Cashe but misses as Cashe side steps him and locks onto his arm with both hands. Using Bronx’s momentum, Cashe turns his body and throws Bronx into the steel barricade.
“Three!”
Bronx holds himself up with his arms stretched over the top of the barricade, leaving his mid-section open.
“Four!”
Cashe then charges towards him and flips him up and over the barricade and into the crowd with a clothesline.
“Five!”
Rolling in opposite directions, the crowd opens up the floor for both men. Cashe then slowly pushes himself up to his feet just as the official reaches the six count.
“Six”
Cashe then goes to climb over the barricade but his foot gets caught in between the bars, preventing him from getting any further.
“Seven”
Bronx then gets back to his feet and like a kid on Christmas morning, his eyes light up to the sight of Cashe trapped on top of the barricade. Bronx then rushes over and hits him with an overhead punch to the top of the head.
“Eight”
Kicking Cashe’s foot away from the barricade, Bronx then lifts him up into the air and drops him back down onto the barricade, legs spread on each side and the cold metal crushing Cashe’s family jewels.
“Nine!”
Bronx then hops over the barricade and races back to the ring, rolling underneath the bottom rope.
“Te–“
Bronx then rolls back under the rope and exits the ring at the last possible moment to reset the official’s ten count.
VASSA: “What the hell is Bronx doing? He had the match won!”
JOHNSON: “As badly as Bronx wants a win over Cashe I don’t think he wants it by count out.”
“One!”
With Cashe still on the barricade in a world of pain, Bronx makes his way over to him, amused at the sight.
“Two!”
Grabbing Cashe by the head, Bronx then pulls him off of the barricade and throws him down to the floor.
“Three!”
After kicking Cashe a few times in the side, Bronx then lifts Cashe up from the floor.
“Four!”
Locking onto Cashe wrist, Bronx then goes to throw him into the ringside steps but Cashe reverses the throw and whips Bronx into the, back first and knocking them over.
“Five!”
Dropping to his knees, Cashe looks at Bronx laid out over the steps as a smile comes to his face.
“Six!”
Standing up, Cashe then slowly limps his way over to Bronx and grabs ahold of his head.
“Seven!”
After pulling Bronx up to his feet, Cashe then slams Bronx’s head into the ring post before rolling him back into the ring.
“Eight!”
Cashe then rolls into the ring as well and breaks the officials ten count.
VASSA: “Hold on a second! Can Cashe slam Bronx face first into the ring post like that?”
JOHNSON: “The official hasn’t said anything about it yet so I guess it’s okay.”
VASSA: “Who is he going to warn anyway? Both men are down on their backs and for the moment out of this fight.”
JOHNSON: “And with that the official is now beginning his double count out.”
With both men down, the official then begins another ten count.
“One! … Two! … Three! … Four! … Five!”
Both men start to move finally and roll in opposite directions, luckily in the direction of their corners.
“Six! … Seven!”
The two then begin to push themselves up, struggling with themselves.
“Eight!”
They both then stand up at the same time and limp to their corners where their partners await the incoming tag. Reaching over the ropes, both Jett and Madison call for the partners, encouraging them as they get closer and closer. Jett then leans over the top rope, lifting his feet up from the apron and reaches as far as he can, slapping Bronx on top of the shoulder. Cashe then falls forward but as he does, he extends his arm and slaps Madison’s hand before crashing tot he mat. The ref recognizes both tags as both Jett and Madison quickly enter the ring and charges towards each other in the center of the ring.
VASSA: “We have some fresh bodies in the ring!”
JOHNSON: “Cashe and Bronx both look completely drained of all their energy.”
VASSA: “They did a number on each other outside of the ring. This whole thing could already have been over if Bronx would have just stayed in the ring after the first ten count.”
Taking the first swing, Madison goes for a headshot but misses as Jett ducks underneath the missile aimed for his head. Jett then fires a punch and plants his fist into Madison’s stomach, forcing him to lunge over. Taking off towards the ropes, Jett bounces off with speed and comes back leaping in the air, wrapping his arm around Madison’s head, and planting his face into the canvas with a bulldog. Meanwhile, Cashe and Bronx both lay on the apron, still out of breath and worn out from their brawl on the outside of the ring. Jett then grabs Madison by the head and pulls him up to his feet. Holding him in place with one hand, Jett then throws a hard right and connects with the top of Madison’s head, forcing him to take a step backwards. Jett then lands multiple punches, still backing Madison up across the ring before he finally comes to a stop with his back against the ropes. Jett then locks onto Madison’s wrist and bounces him off the ropes before whipping him to the ones on the other side of the ring.
Madison bounces off and comes back with speed as Jett takes a few steps towards him. As Madison runs into Jett, Jett lifts him up from his feet and spins him around to go for a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker but Madison wraps his arm around Jett’s head and turns it into a DDT instead, planting Jett’s head into the canvas. Madison rolls over away from Jett and doesn’t get up at first as the official begins yet another ten count.
“One! … Two! … Three! … Four!”
VASSA: “Oh my god, how many times are we going to have a ten count in this match?”
JOHNSON: “These four are giving it everything they have and it’s clearly wearing them down.”
“Five! … Six!”
Madison then pushes himself up from the mat and breaks the officials count. He then turns his attention to Jett who is just finally starting to show signs of life after the high impact DDT. Grabbing Jett by the head, Madison then jerks him to his feet. With all of his strength, Madison then throws Jett into the corner where Cashe is still down on the apron. Crashing into the corner, Jett’s feet lift up from the mat and as they touch down, Madison is right there with a running yakuza kick. With Jett completely out of it, Madison leans over the top rope and begins yelling down at Cashe. After finally grabbing his attention, Madison nods his head towards Jett. Cashe then grabs ahold of the ropes and slowly begins to pull himself up. Madison then turns Jett around and lifts him up to sit him on top of the corner, overlooking the crowd. With Cashe finally up to his feet, Madison then tags him in before climbing to the middle rope.
JOHNSON: “Cashe is now the legal man but what is Madison doing?”
VASSA: “Wake up Bronx! Your brother is in trouble!”
JOHNSON: “That’s not his brother.”
VASSA: “BULLSHIT!!! Everyone is Perry’s kid! They’re all related!”
Carmella and Luiz quickly rush to Bronx and yells for him to get up. Across the ring, Madison wraps his arms around Jett’s waist. Madison and then lifts Jett up from the corner and falls backwards with a German suplex. Before the two crash to the mat, Cashe then jumps into the air, wraps the back of Jett’s head up and comes down with him, giving him a cutter to go along with the suplex.
VASSA: “HO-LY SHIT!!!”
JOHNSON: “They just hit Jett with a German suplex U.T.I. combination!”
VASSA: “THAT WAS UNBELIEVABLE!!!”
Luiz then begins to helps Bronx get back up and quickly points inside of the ring where Jett has been laid out. Cashe then crawls to Jett and slowly rolls him over to his back before climbing on top of him. The official then drops down to his knees for the count.
ONE
Climbing through the ropes, Bronx enters the ring.
TWO
He then races towards the three and leaps into the air to break up the pin.
JOHNSON: “WOW!!!”
Before Bronx can break up the pin, Madison jumps in front of his flying body, using his to receive the impact but save the pin.
THREE!!!
VASSA: “Cashe and Madison win it! Unstable steals the show!”
JOHNSON: “Talk about sacrificing your body to win at any means. Madison just throew himself in front of a bullet to secure the victory.”
“You Want A Battle? (Here’s A War)” hits the speakers as the fans erupt with boos. Up to his knees, Bronx looks on as Cashe slowly begins to get up from Jett and Madison slowly pulls himself up with help from the ropes. Cashe and Madison then check on one another as the official steps in between them and raise their arms into the air.
DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!
POWERS: “Here are your winners by pinfall, CHRIS MADISON and JASON CASHE… UUNNSSTTAABBLLEE!!!”
JOHNSON: “This was an unbelievable match from start to finish and I never would have imagined the ending to be quite like this.”
VASSA: “Bronx just about broke up the pin but Madison put his body on the line to stop that from happening.”
Carmella and Luiz quickly rush around the ring and pull Jett underneath the ropes to the outside. With Jett barely conscious, the two check on him, both working together holding him up. Bronx then pops up to his feet and rushes in behind Cashe, pushing him in the back and sending him into the ropes stomach first. Cashe stops himself after grabbing the ropes and then him and Madison both turn around to see Bronx with his fists balled and ready to continue the fight.
JOHNSON: “Bronx isn’t finished! He’s ready for round two!”
VASSA: “Come on Bronx! It’s two against one, be smart!”
JOHNSON: “I don’t think Bronx is even concerned with the numbers here. Jett is clearly out of this but here Bronx is, standing tall, ready to take on both Cashe and Madison.”
The official then jumps in between the three, more so in front of Bronx trying to prevent anything from happening. He then signals for the bell again to let the gentlemen know that the match is over and done.
DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!
Cashe and Madison talk amongst themselves while keeping an eye on Bronx. Ignoring the official, Bronx waves for them to come get another piece. Madison and Cashe then shrug their shoulders but as they take their first step towards Bronx, the ringside crew quickly enters the ring and creates a wall between the three.
JOHNSON: “Things are really starting to heat up. Winter Wasteland is going to be an epic event. We’re going to see Bronx and Cashe collide in the ring for the XTV Championsh–“
VASSA: “hold up! What?!”
JOHNSON: “Just go along with what I say, Vinny. We’ve been over this already.”
VASSA: “When the hell did that match get booked?”
JOHNSON: “Check your email when you get a moment. Then we have Jett and Madison going head to head with the Pride Championship on the line.”
VASSA: “Are you just making this shit up as you go along?”
JOHNSON: “NO!!! BE QUIET VINNY!!!”
VASSA: “I will not be quiet! I’m trying to figure out where you’re get–“
THUD!!!
JOHNSON: “What the– VINNY!!!”
The camera quickly changes views to a shot of the announcers booth where Vinny has his head down, face-first into the booth. Johnson quickly begins to check on him while waving for medical attention to come over.
JOHNSON: “Oh my god! He’s out cold! Cut it, cut the cameras! This show is a wrap!”
Johnson continues to check on Vinny as medical attention comes into the picture.
JOHNSON: “I SAID CUT THE CAM–“
The feed then comes to an abrupt close as the poster for Winter Wasteland appears to end the show.