Our show opens to an overhead shot from inside of the Dunkin Donuts Center as “Bulls On Parade” blares throughout the entire arena. Quickly changing angles to a shot from within the ring, the camera pans over the sold out crowd as the electricity pulses amongst the fans in attendance.

Down at ringside, Steve Johnson and Vinny Vassa sit behind the booth. Dressed like Sunday morning, Johnson reviews a stack of papers in front of him as his colleague, Vassa, pours himself a double shot of bourbon. After receiving their signal, Johnson looks up to the nearest camera as the angle changes to a shot directly in front of the booth. Nudging Vassa with his elbow, Johnson nods to the camera before placing the stack of papers down and folding his hands, one over the other.
JOHNSON: “Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to another 4CW Adrenaline, brought to you by Showtime! I’m your host, Steve Johnson…”
VASSA: “And I’m the one that keep you all awake and entertain… Vinny Vassa folks!”
JOHNSON: “That’s a mighty high opinion you have of yourself.”
VASSA: “I’m just calling it like it is. There are no lies when it comes to me baby!”
JOHNSON: “We come to you all live from the Dunkin Donuts Center in Providence, Rhode Island.”
VASSA: “It’s our first time visiting this tiny little state and hopefully our last.”
VASSA: “What?! I’m just saying, this state is too small to contain the action packed Adrenaline that 4CW brings to the ring each and every time we’re on the air.”
JOHNSON: “Don’t listen to him folks. He’s a special one.”
VASSA: “That’s exactly what your mom said, Steve.”
JOHNSON: “My mom is de–never mind. We have quite the show in store for you all watching from the comfort of your homes tonight.”
VASSA: “A lot happened just three weeks ago. YES! I said three weeks ago. The show was originally scheduled to take place here last week but some idiot decided to schedule a day that this venue was already booked.”
JOHNSON: “It’s been a wild couple of weeks from scheduling to internet malfunctions.”
VASSA: “It sure has, Steve. But here we are! Adrenaline Sixty!”
JOHNSON: “We have a pretty big lineup in store for you all tonight so pardon us if the intro is a little short.”
VASSA: “If you don’t know what happened at Fifty-Nine, then you need to go back and see for yourself. Tonight is all about the present and right now, we have the makings of a stellar show on our hands.”
JOHNSON: “Kicking things off, we have Johnny Evil, who may possibly be having his last match tonight, taking on the former three time 4CW Champion, Jason Cashe.”
VASSA: “If that isn’t enough to get you excited, we’re kicking off a brand new Fate Division tonight and boy oh boy, do we have some good ones in store for that one.”
JOHNSON: “Later on in the evening we have an XTV Championship match as Sativa Nevaeh will defend against an up and comer, Dybbuk.”
VASSA: “That’s going to be one bloody match. I can already see the rivers of blood pouring from the ring.”
JOHNSON: “To top things off, we have Scott Stevens and Genevie Carlson featured in our main event, following the vicious attacked on Eli Carlson by the hands of Stevens last Adrenaline.”
VASSA: “Scotty did quite a number on the champ as we closed the show. Tonight Genie has a chance to seek revenge against the man that put down her hus–former hus–the man who put down Eli.”
JOHNSON: “That’s quite a pickle right there. I’m not even going to attempt touching that one.”
VASSA: “me either! That’s the lineup though and now it’s time to get on with the show.”
JOHNSON: “I couldn’t have said it better myself, Vinny. Well folks, just sit tight as we go backstage momentarily before returning with our opening bout!”

The scene opens up to a previously recorded backstage segment prior to the start of Adrenaline, showing the view of the main hallway leading to Perry Wallace’s office. In the background you can hear the faint sound of dragging and muffled grunts of pain. These sounds begin to grow closer, until the camera catches Johnny Evil dragging a bound, blindfolded, and gagged, Jack Vaughn behind him.
Evil looks around as he passes staff members in the hallway that are looking at him in an awkward state. The camera quickly focuses in on Vaughn who is trying to cry out in pain and agony. There is visible swelling across his eyes and nose and a couple cuts on his head that have now scabbed out.
Once Johnny reaches Perry Wallace’s office, he places his hand out and thinks about knocking on the door. After a second thought, Johnny just turns the handle and pushes the office door open, catching Perry Wallace in the middle of blowing out a big ass cloud of smoke.
With a surprised look on his face, Perry raises his eyes to acknowledge who has burst into his office…

WALLACE: “Evil?? What in the fuck is this??”
Evil drops Jack Vaughn in the middle of Wallace’s floor…
EVIL: “You wanted Jack Vaughn… You got Jack Vaughn! Trust me, he’ll more than comply and submit to anything you need or ask.
Perry looks down at Vaughn…
WALLACE: “Jesus, he smells like fucking piss and mildew!”
Taking a step back as he covers his nose.
WALLACE: “I don’t want him stinking up my office, get him the fuck out of here!”
EVIL: “Look, you told me deliver you Jack Vaughn… I did. Now I’m going to get ready to fight Cashe and I’m out of here.”
As Evil walks off, Perry slowly makes his way to the other side of the room, at the opening of the door to catch a fresh breath of air. He then pulls his cell phone out from his pocket and with a few swipes and presses against the screen with his thumb, he holds it to his ear.
WALLACE: “Send a car for Mister Jack Vaughn, please.”
Pulling the phone away from his ear, Perry then walks over to Jack, stopping before him and looking down at the man in his weakened element.
WALLACE: “You thought you could get away with this? We’re going to get the truth out of you, one way or another.”
The scene ends and the camera cuts back to the announce table.
JOHNSON: What do you think Perry Wallace will have in store for Jack Vaughn now that he’s within arm’s reach.
VASSA: “I would assume whatever he damn well pleases?”
JOHNSON: ”Well, you heard Evil. Now that he’s brought Perry Jack Vaughn, he’s only got one thing left to do”.
VASSA: “Yea, and that fight is coming up momentarily. It’s a battle between two people with the shittest luck in 4CW as of late when Johnny Evil takes on Jason Cashe.
JOHNSON: “Hopefully Evil can come away with the win since this is his last match, but Cashe is no easy feat!”

Outside of the Dunkin Donuts Center in Providence, Rhode Island, the camera would get a shot of all the fans lined up and ready to head inside to catch all of the action. Of course, there was an electric feeling in the atmosphere as all the fans cheered and smiled, chanting and holding up signs in support of their favorite wrestlers. There was nothing out of the unusual…
Okay, well, at that point, nothing was unusual. Everything was alright up until Lauryn’s Wolfe voice could be heard, and as the camera was able to see where she was coming from, Wolfe could be seen on top of the roof of a Jeep Grand Cherokee with a megaphone in hand. Now, one thing to note about the Jeep vehicle was that it was all black and decked out with the ‘Generation Now’ logo on the sides. As the vehicle came to a halt in front of the venue, Lauryn proceeded to hop off of the Jeep. She placed the megaphone up to her mouth and spoke yet again.
WOLFE: “Matter of fact, the entire Royal Family is a group of pussies. I mean, how can you claim to be the most dominant group in the promotion if you have to get one of your own that wasn’t even in the match involved towards the end? You can’t really act all tough when you can’t fend for yourselves. It makes you absolutely weak and pathetic. But hey, I guess I’m just being nothing more but a salty bitch, right?”
Lauryn, displaying her signature sarcasm, shrugged her shoulders and opened the backseat door of the Jeep. Coming out of the driver seat, Tasha Campbell displayed an annoyed look on her face as she went up to Lauryn.
CAMPBELL: “Are you seriously doing this right now?”
WOLFE: “You think I paid over 800 bucks just to waste it? Come on and help me.”
Tasha rolled her eyes and sighed, though she complied and helped Lauryn out with taking out a couple of boxes out from the backseat. Lauryn then turned to the fans and smiled before she yelled out through the megaphone.
WOLFE: “You guys like free stuff, right?”
In response, the crowd erupted into a choir of cheers, which brought a grin to Wolfe’s face. She opened up one of the boxes and took out a few of the T-Shirts that bore the ‘Generation Now’ logo featuring all of the faces of the members. She then threw them out into the crowd and, of course, the fans went nuts as they all reached out to grab the T-shirts. While she and Tasha were giving the goodies out though, Lauryn proceeded to continue on with her little shit talking.
WOLFE: “You know what the funny thing is, though?”
WOLFE: “That all of these wrestlers are doing exactly what we said they were going to do. So many of them are trying so hard to downplay us that it’s honestly sad. I pity them all. The Royal Family wants to act like we didn’t stand a chance even though that any moron with an IQ of Freedumb’s sperm count saw that we would’ve won the match. They couldn’t fight back, and of course, just when I was going to put Eli away for good, his own little butt buddy had to swoop in and save the day for him. Nice to see that our 4CW Champion can handle is own in the ring without the unwarranted assist of someone else, yeah?”
Lauryn shook her head and chuckled.

WOLFE: “And of course, the more prevalent shit talkers like Adrian Tanner Jr. still want to judge our group like as if his words actually hold any weight. He has done fuck all in this place. He might have been the XTV Champion, but honestly, what has he done significantly with that belt? Sativa is already making his reign look like a complete joke, but instead he wants to BAAAAAWWWW about how he never got pinned to lose the belt. God, he’s such a whiny little bitch, and here I thought that Scott Stevens was the poster boy for mental retardation… He honestly wants to try and correct us? He should try and correct himself because he lost to two of our own already.”
Lauryn started to cackle. Tasha, however, simply rolled her eyes and continued to hand out the T-Shirts to the fans.
WOLFE: “I swear, professional wrestlers are getting dumber and dumber these days. Also, love how Jason Trash wants to talk about how he’s going to come after us yet what is he doing? Seems to me like he’s busy playing the role of an angsty thirteen year old than actually making due on his promises, but whatever. Continue showing your ‘aggressive’ side, bro. You really look like a scary badass there.”
CAMPBELL: “I mean, I gotta admit. Some of them really are trying too hard.”
WOLFE: “I honestly can’t wait for us to step in the ring with any of those bitches. They can all run their mouths off, but like I said last time, unless they can beat us all by themselves? They need to shut up and focus on actually winning matches instead of wasting time making crappy comics and trying to be some edgy IRL tough guys. The five of us will decimate their bitch asses without breaking a single fucking sweat, but let’s just downplay how good Generation Now is and let’s continue on with the ‘LOL HASHTAG GENERATION NOPE’ bandwagon.”
As the two women finished handing out the T-Shirts, Lauryn would smile as she looked at the crowd of people; many of whom were donning the new gear that they got. Chants of Generation Now erupted and as Lauryn looked on, she pretended to be crying with joy and wiped away an imaginary tear.
WOLFE: “After all, we’re just a group of loveable losers.”
Having gotten tired of Lauryn’s silliness, Tasha sighed and walked past her.
CAMPBELL: “Let’s just go on inside already…”
Lauryn chuckled and looked at the camera, shrugging her shoulders once more.
WOLFE: “I guess I’ve had my fun for the night. Now it’s time to trigger some folks some more tonight.”
And with that, Lauryn turned to the crowd, gave a sarcastic bow and then ran off, following behind Tasha as the two women entered the venue.


JOHNSON: “We’re back here at ringside folks and coming up in just a few moments will be our opening match!”
VASSA: “This has main event written all over it. Just three weeks ago Johnny Evil was talking about retirement. Now he’s found himself in a match with Jason Cashe.”
JOHNSON: “This isn’t just any match. This is a no holds barred match and this thing is guaranteed to get out of hand.”
VASSA: “Before this all transpired, I thought these two were friends. Over the last few weeks after seeing their promotion footage, I think we can safely say that isn’t the case anymore.”
The lights fade through the arena and begin to flicker as “Still Swingin” by Papa Roach plays through the speakers. Johnny steps out onto the stage. He looks around for a moment, before stepping over to one side of the stage and pointing outward with his finger into the audience.
POWERS: “The following no holds barred contest is scheduled for one fall!”
Johnny makes his way to the other side of the stage and does the same thing. He then paces and begins to hop around a bit and hype up the crowd.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Detroit, Michigan,. Weighing in at two hundred twenty-five pounds and standing six feet, one inch tall. He is ‘The Mouthpiece of Mayhem’, JOHNNY EEVVIILL!!!”
After a moment, Johnny begins a somewhat fast jog down the ramp to the rhythm of the music all while spreading his arms out like a plane and spinning around a bit. Once he makes his way to the ringside area, he slides through the bottom rope and then hops to his feet. He begins a pace around the ring before ascending the ropes. Johnny begins talking and hyping up the audience as he lifts his arms into the air and sways them up and down. As his music dies down and the lights return to their normal state, he hops off the ropes and gets ready for his match.
POWERS: “And the opponent!”
The arena goes into a brief silence before Jason Cashe comes out from the back, almost sliding out with a smile on his face and a dip in his step as he hears the place give him both 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 former three time 4CW Champion, ‘The Troubled One”, JASON CCAASSHHEE!!!”
Taking two quick puffs from an “Air Joint”, Cashe throws his arms up above his head briefly, slaps the camera zoomed in on his face and then takes his first real steps towards the ring. Giving a few fans fist bumps, those who have their hands out wanting some love he makes his way down to ringside. He rounds the corner of the ring and jogs the steel stairs, getting up on the ring apron.
Dipping through the middle ropes, he enters the ring. Walking to the opposite side, he balances on the middle rope, leaning against the top rope and once again hits the “Air Joint” before getting hyped up over the upcoming match.
Dropping down, he puts his back into a nearby corner and awaits the bell.

VASSA: “The arena is sure lit tonight!”
JOHNSON: “This is just our opening match and this place is on fire.”
VASSA: “You know how we do it in 4CW. Opening matches are always BIG.”
JOHNSON: “This surely has the makings of yet another one.”
VASSA: “Another one!”
JOHNSON: “You could easily say that both Evil and Cashe have been in quite a slump as of late.”
VASSA: “They have been, more so Evil. Things have gotten to the point that Johnny has been tossing out words like retirement and such.”
JOHNSON: “Losses happen. There’s no getting around it. It’s what the person does to move forward that defines who they truly are.”
VASSA: “That’s when we see Cashe attacking people like Raab, going ape shit crazy like he’s been hanging with Freedumb for a seventy-two hour binge.”
JOHNSON: “Ri–what?”
VASSA: “Dude’s a fucking methamphetamine addict!”
VASSA: “And a dog fucker! Not Cashe, but Freedumb.”
JOHNSON: “Alrighty. I have no idea what you’re even talking about so I think it’s best we just move along and jump right into this opening bout.”
With both men locked and loaded in their corners, the official checks in with them quickly to get an official nod from both. As the crowd waits in anticipation, the official finally gives them what they want as he throws his arm in the air and signals for the bell, officially kicking things off for Adrenaline Sixty!

With their eyes locked on one another, both Cashe and Evil step away from their corners and slowly approach each other until standing toe to toe in the center of the ring. The two exchange a few choice words amongst each other, none appear to be pleasant as it becomes more and more clear that they’re trashing one another instead. Appearing to have struck a nerve, Evil takes a step back, stroking his chin as he looks down to the mat and slowly nods his head. A grin comes to Cashe’s face, realizing that he’s hit home with something said.
Out of nowhere, Evil pops his head up and fires a right hand, crashing his fist against the side of Cashe’s skull. Cashe’s head whips to the side instantly, as the stinging after effects begin to settle in. Slowly turning his head back in Evil’s direction, Cashe then cracks his neck in the opposite direction before turning back to look at Evil dead on. As loud as he can, Cashe roars in Evil’s face before drawing back and delivering a solid punch of his own. Smashing his fist against Evil’s jaw, Cashe whips his head a complete ninety degrees from the impact.
With that, Evil lets loose, swinging with a right hook that rings Cashe’s bell. He then follows up with a kick to Cashe’s stomach only to have his foot caught between Cashe’s hands. Pulling Evil in by the leg, Cashe maneuvers himself to Evil’s side before wrapping him up with both hands, lifting him into the air, and driving him into the canvas with a side belly to belly suplex. With Evil on his back, Cashe quickly mounts himself on top, securing Evil’s arms beneath his legs before reaching down and locking onto Evil’s head with both hands. Opening wide, Cashe then lowers his head, aiming to bite Evil across the forehead. As he closes in, Evil rips his head away from Cashe’s hands and slams the back of it against the mat, using the rebound of his head to thrust upward and connects with a headbutt to Cashe’s mouth, knocking him over to the side.

VASSA: “Well goddamn, I didn’t see that coming.”
JOHNSON: “Cashe had him right where he wanted him in a match like this. With no rules, biting is fair game but Johnny just wasn’t having any part of it.”
VASSA: “When Cashe is moving in to bite someone, the last thing you expect is for that person to lunge their head in his mouths direction.”
Holding himself up on his side with one arm, Cashe runs his hand across his mouth, smearing blood across his palm from his lip being busted wide open. Across his from, Evil pushes himself up, feeling a bit groggy from the impact to his head, but quickly shaking it off as he keys in on Cashe. With Cashe still down, Evil locks onto his head as he moves his body in closer. Fighting to pull himself away, Cashe begins throwing his bloody hand up and over his head, pounding away at Evil’s stomach. As Cashe continues to throw blind punches, Evil ignores them as he then pulls Cashe’s head in towards him, thrusting his leg up from the mat and driving his knee into Cashe’s temple.
He then pulls Cashe up to his feet and quickly locks onto his arm before throwing him to the far ropes across the ring. Before Evil can release him, Cashe reverses the throw and sends Evil stumbling towards them instead. Taking off behind him, Cashe hits Evil with a clothesline as his back presses against the ropes. With the ropes stopping him from moving backwards, the clothesline lifts Evil off his feet and flips him over the top rope, crashing down onto his shoulder against the apron. Evil then begins to push himself up as Cashe turns the opposite direction and takes off for the ropes. Hitting the ropes and coming back full speed, Cashe hops up from the mat, extending his legs in front of him and aiming them through the ropes, driving both feet into Evil and sending him flying off apron and crashing to the floor on his shoulder once again.

JOHNSON: “It didn’t take long for this match to find itself outside of the ring.”
VASSA: “What are you talking about? Only half of the people in this match are on the outside.”
JOHNSON: “You do realize who the other half that’s in the ring is, don’t you?”
VASSA: “Good point.”
Stepping through the ropes, Cashe exits the ring and steps out onto the apron. Backing up as far as he can on the apron, he stands back, waiting patiently and watching as Evil slowly begins to climb to his feet. Once Evil stands, Cashe then takes off towards him, running along the apron and gaining speed with each step he takes.
JOHNSON: “I think we’re about to see some payment in the form of C.O.D.”
Cashe then launches himself from the apron, flipping forward and flying in Evil’s direction to wipe him out with his cannonball senton. Evil’s eyes quickly light up as he then leaps out of the way, leaving an open path for Cashe to crash against the ringside steps back first and upside down.

The impact of Cashe’s body forces the ringside steps to topple to their side as he drops head first onto the hard floor below.
VASSA: “Well that didn’t seem to go as planned!”
JOHNSON: “I guess you could say that Cashe had insufficient funds!”
Limping over to Cashe, Evil slowly closes in before reaching down and pulling him up from the floor, favoring his shoulder while doing so. Evil then holds him in place before rocking his jaw with a European uppercut, whipping Cashe’s head backwards and forcing him to look directly up to the ceiling. Evil then follows up with a kick to the stomach, forcing Cashe to buckle back over and as he does, Evil jumps straight into the air. Wrapping his arm around Cashe’s head, Evil pulls him down head first onto a portion of the ringside steps with a jumping DDT!
VASSA: “Jesus Christ! Johnny is trying to give him permanent brain damage!”
JOHNSON: “We all saw how he dragged Jack Vaughn into Perry’s office bloodied up and battered. There’s no telling what this man is capable of with his back against the wall.”
VASSA: “When you have someone in Evil’s shoes, the last thing you want to do is back them into a corner.”
Rolling over to his back, Cashe’s arms stretch out as the bright lights from above shine down on him, exposing his bloodied forehead. Taking a bit of impact of his own with that move, Evil slowly pulls himself up with help of the side of the ring. Wasting no time at all, he walks to Cashe and stands over him. Reaching down with one hand, Evil cups it behind Cashe’s head as he lifts it up from the floor. With his other, he draws back and slams it forward with every ounce of energy in his body, connecting with a power punch. He then pulls Cashe up from the floor and drags him over to the barricade and pulls his head back. Locking onto it with both hands, Evil then slams it down towards the top of the steel barricade.
JOHNSON: “Cashe still has some life in him!”
Throwing his hands down in front of his face and grabbing onto the top of the barricade, Cashe stops the movement of his head before it connects with the barricade. He then throws an elbow back and drives it into Evil’s ribcage., forcing him to let go of his head. Cashe then uses the barricade to push himself up before locking onto Evil’s head and slamming him down face first onto the top of the barricade. Lifting Johnny off his feet, Cashe then tosses him up and drops his throat across the top of the barricade. As Evil’s head bounces up from the barricade, his body stumbles backwards and into the arms of Cashe.
Setting up Evil for a Russian Leg Sweep in honor of the hackers who took down the 4CW website, Cashe leans forward with Evil in his arms before swinging back to drop to the floor. Before reaching the point of no return, Evil slams his elbow back, connecting with an elbow shot right between Cashe’s eyes. Staggering backwards, Cashe’s vision is blurry. Evil then charges towards him and connects with a running elbow, a variation Cashe’s very own move.

VASSA: “Holy shit, did he?”
JOHNSON: “That was the Mark of Jason!”
VASSA: “He hit him with his own move!”
Dropping to his knees, Cashe wobbles back and forth, somehow managing to remain upright. Evil then takes a few steps back to create a bit of distance between the two before rushing forward and laying him out on his back with an enzuigiri. Looking down at Cashe with a bit of satisfaction, Evil then turns his head to the right, looking up the corner and to the top. He then climbs onto the apron and ascends to the top of the corner. Standing tall above everything in sight, Evil then leaps off the top of the corner, flipping forward in mid-air, and coming down onto Cashe’s chest with a double foot stomp.
JOHNSON: “Stuntman Flip!”
VASSA: “That was unbelievable!”
JOHNSON: “Things are surely heating up right here at ringside.”
Dropping to his knees, Evil then lays over top of Cashe, making the cover as the official races from around the corner and slides in beside them with the count.

Popping his shoulder up from the floor, Cashe breaks up the officials count and disrupts the pin attempt on Evil’s behalf. Shaking in head and looking down at Cashe in shock, Evil takes a moment as it settles in that Cashe is still in this. He then pushes himself up and then locks onto Cashe, pulling him up to one knee. In a moment of desperation, Cashe reaches up with both hands and wraps them around Evil’s head, pulling himself up and Evil’s head down in the process. Popping his leg upward, Cashe drives a lifting knee into Evil’s face, knocking him backwards against the side of the ring.
Before Evil can collect himself, Cashe extends both arms out to his side before stepping in and swinging them inward, hitting Evil across both ears with a double ear slap, also known as the bell clap. Taking a few steps back, Cashe waits patiently as Evil slowly begins to stumble forward. Spinning in place, Cashe then thrusts himself forward and nearly takes Evil’s head off with a discus clothesline, dropping down to both of his knees in the process. Pressing through, Cashe pushes himself back to his feet and then drags Evil up to his and close to the barricade. Maneuvering himself beside Evil, Cashe then wraps him up before lifting him into the air and driving him backwards, head first, into the barricade with a side suplex.
Evil’s body rests against the barricade, hunched over with his back against it. Back on his feet, Cashe then grabs onto the top of the barricade and uses it for leverage as he begins stomping violently on Evil’s chest. After ten or so stomps to the chest, his target area quickly transitions as the stomps begins to rain down on Evil’s face. Stomping uncontrollably, Cashe finally comes to stop, out of breath and tires from releasing every bit of energy within. He then takes a step back to survey the damage done. Evil face is covered in blood, smearing from his mouth and nose all over his face and a good bit on the bottom of Cashe’s boot.

JOHNSON: “This was possibly going to be a retirement match for Evil, but it could very well end up as his funeral.”
VASSA: “These two aren’t holding anything back. At this rate, I’ll be surprised if either is able to walk away from this thing on their own two feet.”
Reaching down and locking onto Evil’s arm, Cashe then pulls him up from the floor and walks him back over to the side of the ring. He then rolls Evil up onto the apron and underneath the bottom rope, placing him back within the confines of the ropes. Climbing onto the apron, Cashe then dips through the ropes and turns to the corner behind him. Climbing up to the middle rope, he positions himself directly in the line of sight for Evil. Leaping from the corner, Cashe extends both legs and comes down with leg drop.

Rolling out of the way, Evil leaves nothing but canvas to break Cashe’s fall as he misses with the leg drop. The impact shoots pain directly up his spine as he rolls over to his side and begins kicking his feet and grunting. Covered in blood, Evil then pushes himself up but then drops back down to one knee. The crowd then begins to stir as everyone draws their attention to the entrance way.
JOHNSON: “What’s going on here?”
VASSA: “i think someone is com–“
JOHNSON: “It’s Adrian Tanner! His partner is coming down to the ring!”
Looking up the entrance ramp, Evil locks his eyes on Tanner as he makes his way down to the ring. Once at ringside, Tanner begins to cheer him on, keeping his distance and not getting himself involved.
VASSA: “If this truly is Johnny’s last match, at least he has the full support of his partner.”
Pushing himself up, Evil finally stands to his feet, just as Cashe begins to climb to his. Once Cashe stands, Evil quickly moves in behind him and drops him to the mat with a backstabber. Cashe flops over to his stomach as Adrian begins to yell louder and louder from the outside. Back on his feet, Evil stands over Cashe momentarily before pulling him up and dragging him to the nearby corner. Lifting Cashe up, Evil sits him down on top of the corner and then climbs to the top himself. Once at the top, Evil then grabs Cashe by the head and stands him up before wrapping his arm around Cashe’s head and grabbing onto the back of his pants.
JOHNSON: “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Evil is going to end this once and for all with the Lobotomy.”
VASSA: “He’s in the position to do it and I don’t know how much more either of these two can take.”
Evil then lifts Cashe vertically into the air, upside down, setting him up for a brainbuster onto the top turnbuckle. Before he can drop down, Cashe wiggles himself out of Evil’s grip and drops down behind him, somehow managing to land on his feet with balance. Drawing back, Cashe then swings forward, driving a stiff striking elbow directly into the back of Evil’s head and knocking him down from the corner.
Landing on his feet, Evil can barely keep his balance but before he goes down, Cashe leaps forward and closes in behind him, wrapping both arms around his head and dropping him to the canvas with a back to back cutter.
JOHNSON: “Under the Influence!”
Rolling over Evil for the cover, Cashe stretches an arm across his body as the official drops down beside them with the count.

JOHNSON: “Cashe wins it ladies and gentlemen!”
VASSA: “He’s sending Johnny home with an L tonight!”
JOHNSON: “The outcome of this match changed instantly right before out eyes and no one saw that coming.”
Slowly standing to his feet, Cashe uses the ropes to hold himself up as he looks down at Evil, shaking his head. The official then steps in beside him and lifts his arm into the air as Cashe leans against the ropes for support.

POWERS: “Here is your winner, JASON CCAASSHHEE!!!”
As the official assists Cashe who can barely stand on his own, Tanner then enters the ring and wakes Johnny up. After a few moments pass, Tanner helps Johnny up to his feet.
JOHNSON: “Things may not have went as planned, but Adrian is here regardless to show support for Johnny.”
VASSA: “No one wants to see him go. Retirement? Get the fuck out of here with that!”
Holding Evil up, Tanner gives him a few words of encouragement before lifting Evil’s arm into the air. The fans then raise to the feet, giving him a standing ovation as Cashe looks on from a distance. After a pat on the back, Evil waves Tanner off as he sends his partner on to the back.
As Tanner turns his back, Johnny Evil rocks him with a forearm in the back of the head, sending him stumbling in Jason Cashe’s direction causing him to get caught with a Mark Of Jason. The arenas cheers and support quickly turns to a roar of frustration and hatred.
Evil looks at Cashe for a moment as Cashe looks back at him. Giving off a small nod, Evil then drops down and rolls out through the bottom rope as his entrance music begins playing.
JOHNSON: “Why in the hell would you do that, Johnny?”
VASSA: “Think about it, Steve. This was suppose to be Evil’s final match and Tanner like always had to try and put Johnny at his coattails!!”
JOHNSON: “He just came out to show support and bid his friend farewell. It wasn’t anything like that! I for one am disgusted and these fans who showed Johnny Evil support through it all are just as furious as well!!”
Evil turns around looking back into the ring, muttering some trash talk as Jason Cashe just stands in the ring looking around. Evil looks to the side of him and walks over toward the barricade, snatching a Thank You, Johnny! Sign from an audience member’s hand, ripping it in half and dropping it arrogantly to the ground.
The uproar gets louder as the audience member begins to trash talk Johnny in anger. Johnny lunges his arm forward and mushes him in the face, causing him to fall back in his seat before making a motion as if to say ‘sit your bitch ass down’.
Letting off a smirk, Johnny looks down at the sign and then steps on it as he continues to walk up the entrance ramp brushing the dirt from his shoulder refusing to acknowledge the audience around him.
JOHNSON: “My question is, do you think Jason Cashe knew this was going down?”
VASSA: “Fuck no he didn’t! Look at his face, he’s just as awkward and confused as the rest of these schmucks in the audience!!”
JOHNSON: “So then why did he hit Tanner with the Mark Of Jason?”
VASSA: “Natural reaction, Steve. Tanner was too close for comfort!!”
JOHNSON: “This is just horrible, I quit!”
VASSA: “YES! You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that!!”
JOHNSON: “Sarcasm, Vassa… it’s called sarcasm!!”

The camera cuts to the outside of the Dunkin Donuts center, where Mariano Fernandez is just arriving, among the crazed fans that shower him with cheers. Something about him, however, is odd – particularly the very slick and elegant-looking blue suit he’s donning, along with a red tie and a badge on his lapel, and the large leather briefcase he’s carrying. Gabriel Hartman is standing among the effusive crowd, clutching at his headset with one hand while holding the mic on the other.
JOHNSON: “SAY HELLO… TO DA #TROLL GUY. There’s Mariano Fernandez, and that’s a classy way to make an entrance!”
VASSA: “Looks like this idiot is finally doing something NORMAL for once…”
JOHNSON: “You know as well as I do, Vinny, that he’s always got some trick up his sleeve.”
Gabriel Hartman begins speaking as he approaches Mariano.
HARTMAN: “Steve, Vinny, I’m here with Mariano Fernandez who’s making his way into the building, and Mariano, you look dressed to impress!”
Mariano looks at the crowd, raising his hand to a huge pop.
FERNANDEZ: “Hey yo.”
He then turns towards Hartman, who looks at him expectantly.
FERNANDEZ: “How you doing, mang? Well y’know, feels weird dressing like this, but I figure, this is what one normally wears to court, right? I mean, I’m going to face Eddie Valentine and Chris Wrigley is gonna be over there too, so I’ve got my Court Record and evidence ready, and after we’re done the judge’s verdict is going to be on my side. Hell, I’ve even been practicing my court training, chico. Wanna see?”
Hartman stays staring at him, but Mariano turns towards the crowd, and with a snap motion of his arm points at them.
The fans erupt in laughter, but Mariano produces a paper from his briefcase – looking entirely serious.
FERNANDEZ: “This I have here, chicos, is a libel lawsuit I’ll be personally delivering to Chris Wrigley and Eddie Valentine for disparaging the rest members of #GenNow, mang – I mean, I got no problem with him coming at me, but he’s not going to mess around with my crew – and when I finally face them both inside the courtroom I’ll present them right to their face!”
The crowd gives yet another huge pop, as Mariano gives his classic Trollface and walks into the stage, leaving Gabriel Hartman dumbfounded.
JOHNSON: “… Like I said, Vinny – DA #TROLL GUY always got some trick up his sleeve.”
VASSA: “… Like I said, Steve – this guy is an idiot.”


As the opening of “Nightmare” by Avenged Sevenfold begins to play over the arena, a video flashes on the big screen of a camera shot panning up a grassy hill at night, slowly until it gets to the top. Panning from left to right, lighting flashing in the sky as the opening guitar riff begins to sound.
POWERS: “Introducing to the ring from Anaheim, California, weighing in at one hundred twenty five pounds and standing five feet, seven inches tall! She is the “Nightmare”, NIOBE MMAARRTTIINN!!!”
The video on the screen then switches to a video package of Niobe in the ring, flashing and moving in time with the drum beat.
Now your nightmare comes to life..”

Niobe comes running out from behind the curtain, stopping at the top of the ramp briefly to extend her arms out to the sides as a blast of pyro goes off on either side of her.
“Dragged you down below…
Down to the devils show…
To be his guest forever…
Peace of mind is less than never..”

As the lyrics of the song continue to play, she drops her arms and walks down the ramp, a smirk on her face as she sneers at the crowd as she passes before sliding under the bottom rope of the ring. She stands up and throws off the hood of her jacket, glaring at the crowd with a smirk on her face.
JOHNSON: ”Well here we go. Talk about two of the biggest enigma’s in 4CW today. Both of these two are supremely talented but it seems like they can’t quite seem to piece it together.”
VASSA: ”Well Niobe has been around forever and has had bursts of success. But Zi..err.. Matthews just doesn’t quite seem to be able to figure it out.”
JOHNSON: ”Tonight one of them will. But it’s anyone’s guess which one it will be.”
Everyone in the crowd goes quiet as “Centuries” by Fall Out Boy blares on the PA System and the lighting dims to a bare white lighting. Darin Matthews comes out walking slowly in a sport coat in his tights on with sun glasses on. He doesn’t make it much further when a loud THWACK catches everyone’s attention as Zion collapses to his knees. From behind him, Elijah Carlson steps around with a steel chair in his hand, much like the one Scott Stevens had assaulted him with on the previous episode of Adrenaline, blasting Matthews across the back with it before grabbing a handful of his hair and dragging him down the entrance ramp. Inside the ring, Niobe doesn’t seem to know what to make of the situation that is unfolding before her, but she looks on warily.
VASSA: ”If you know what’s best for you, Niobe, you’ll get the hell out of there now.”
JOHNSON: ”This spells bad news for tonight, Vinny. The 4CW Champion is in a bad mood after what he endured at the hands of Scott Stevens three weeks ago.”
At the bottom of the ramp, Eli continues to drag Matthews along, smacking his face off of the steel turnbuckle post before turning him around and leaning him against it. He wastes no time in taking hold of the chair that he had brought with him with both hands, reeling it back like it was a baseball bat, slamming it directly across the face of Darin Matthews who drops to his knees and then falls face first to the mat outside of the ring. Little emotion shows on Carlson’s face as he stares down at the unconscious body of Darin Matthews and spits on him. After a few long moments of remaining motionless, Eli looks up and makes eye contact directly with Niobe. Slowly he ascends the steel ring steps, carrying the chair with him. Logan Whitby, the referee, senses that the situation is going to get worse and tries to step in, warning Eli to go backstage but Eli simply steps through the ropes and shoves the man aside.
JOHNSON: ”Now that’s just uncalled for!.”
VASSA: ”Uncalled for or not, Eli is sending a message to someone but who that is, your guess is as good as mine..”
JOHNSON: ”If you ask me I’d put money on Scott Stevens. On top of all of that, we’ve gotten reports that Eli’s mother passed away a few days ago and the look in the champions eyes says he’s going to take every ounce of pain and anger he’s feeling out on someone, or anyone who gets in his path..”
Not wasting any time, Niobe charges at Eli and launches herself at him, landing a clean strike to him that causes him to stumble backwards. He uses the ropes to leverage himself, returning fire and leaping in her direction, leaning back and catching her with a brutal sick kick right to the jaw, flattening her. Quickly, Eli pushes himself back to his feet and touches his lip, checking his fingers for blood before shouting at Niobe angrily. Once more Eli retrieves the steel chair but this time simply opens it and sets it up. His eyes then flash in the direction of Niobe, who is slowly recovering herself. Logan Whitby once more tries to restore order but deals with him quickly, knocking him flat with one bunch and then tossing him to the outside of the ring. Unsure of what how to react to what is unfolding before them, the crowd remains relatively quiet with an edge of anxiousness and uncertainty hanging on the air. Once more, Eli turns his attention towards Niobe. He wraps her blonde hair in his hands and pulls her upward, hooking her head under his arm and before dragging her backward, lining her up with the chair. In one quick motion, Eli drives her downward through the steel chair, bending and snapping it in awkward and unnatural directions.
VASSA: ”Alright enough is enough. Someone get him under control..”
JOHNSON: ”And who do you think might do that? Why don’t we just listen and see who has drawn the ire of Elijah Carlson this week.”
Back on his feet, Eli quickly retrieves a microphone and stands in the midst of the carnage he had just created. He heaves a deep breath of air into his lungs and lets it out before raising the microphone to his lips.
E. CARLSON: ”Consider this your first warning, Perry. You and I are going to sit down and have a nice little chat. Ignore me and I swear to Christ I will bring this shitshow to a stand still.”
Tossing the microphone over his shoulder, Eli rolls out of the ring and begins to head back towards the entrance ramp when he find Zion struggling slowly to get back to his feet. Coldly, Eli stares at him and waits for him to get back to his knees before charging at him and catching him flush with the same kick that had leveled Niobe moments earlier. Pushing himself back up to his feet, Eli slowly began to make his way up the ramp as the scene switches backstage.

The cameras head backstage to Genevie Carlson walking down the hallway. She’s already in her ring gear, ready to go for her match later that night. She adjusts the rim of her hat, and runs her fingers down her long, dark hair. She props her leg up on one of the tables and leans forward, grabbing her calf as she holds the position for a few seconds, before switching legs, obviously stretching. She puts her leg down and cracks her neck from side to side as she stretches her arms, but is soon interrupted by Gabriel Hartman, 4CW’s interviewer. She rolls her eyes.
G. CARLSON: “What do you want Hartman? I have a match to get ready for.”
HARTMAN: “You know my job here Genie. You’re not that stupid, surely. Here to ask you some questions.”
G. CARLSON: “I figured as much. I got a few minutes.”
HARTMAN: “We all know the usual routine between you and Eli. You break up, and you get back together. What makes you believe that anyone sees this as the real deal?”
Genevie looked up at the ceiling and her eyes narrowed a bit as her lips pursed a bit. She shook her head before sighing.
G. CARLSON: “Gabe. I would think by now people would have figured out that I’m impulsive and rude, and say shit that pops into my head without really thinking about it when I’m angry. As easy as it is to say we are broken up, it’s not a break up. We’re still married.”
HARTMAN: “Are you guys, gonna try to swerve us again with another divorce?”
Gen rolled her eyes at that one, as she crossed her arms over her chest. This line of questioning she obviously wasn’t a fan of.
G. CARLSON: “I honestly will give you the inside scoop on this one. Come Closer.”
Gen leans forward towards Hartman, as he leans his ear to her, she cups her hands over her mouth as if she’s about to whisper a secret before she shouts, causing Gabe to wince and step backwards.
HARTMAN: “OKAY! OKAY! I’ll move on. There’s been speculation that the reason you have all this resentment towards your husband is because he was able to become the 4CW Champion, while you failed to claim another Championship.”
G. CARLSON: “That’s easy for people to say. It’s the low hanging fruit, easy conclusion to think about. I wouldn’t expect anything less from the small minded little sheep of 4CW. See the truth of the matter is, while all you people are just paying attention to what you see on Twitter, there is so much more going on. I have worked my ass off since coming into 4CW, and at first? I did it for myself, and then Fright Night happened and I felt I put Eli through enough, with the whole KD bit. So in a moment, I made a decision to help make sure he got that contract for Winter Wasteland. I gave up the opportunity of a lifetime.”
Genevie shook her head and paused for a moment. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as she uncrossed her arms and ran her hands down her sides, as if to calm herself down.
G. CARLSON: “After that? It was nothing but Royal Family. Tara and JPD had more than proven themselves long before stepping in 4CW, and during their run in 4CW. Eli proved himself worthy at Winter Wasteland. I just wanted to prove I was just as worthy. So I got hung up on it. I got hung up on impressing my husband. Doing things for him, inside and outside of the ring. I lived for pretty much him and his needs and in the end it cost me. Do you know when I was truly great, Gabe? When I wasn’t concerned with being on Eli’s level or impressing him or making him proud of me. That’s when I excel.”
HARTMAN: “So what do you say about the folks out there who think you’d be Nothing in 4CW without Eli?”
G. CARLSON: “Again, it’s low hanging fruit. Something they think bothers me. It doesn’t. It’s my own fault. I own up to my mistakes. I put that in people’s heads when I spent all my time, living for that man. I put my own career in jeopardy for him and didn’t even think twice about it. Now it comes back to bite me in the ass and it snapped me back to reality. Whether Eli made me relevant or not at one time, it ends now. I’d rather be completely irrelevant and know that I tried to do things for myself, than be relevant constantly living in the shadow of a man who doesn’t appreciate any of the sacrifices I make, for him.”
HARTMAN: “Are you saying this is the end of the Royal Family?”
G. CARLSON: “Not even in the slightest. We are still a strong a team as any. Tara and JPD don’t fight for each other. Eli sure as fuck doesn’t fight for me, so why would me finding my own identity and doing the same shit do anything to fuck up our dynamic? It’s easy, it won’t. I know people must feel sorry for Tara and JPD being part of our team when me and Eli always seem at each other’s throats but their friendship, and our alliance to them off the cameras is what makes everything fucking work so well. We don’t dwell on it and we don’t let it spill over in a way that hurts them or their careers. We have mutual respect for one another in that regard. The Royal Family isn’t dying, or splitting up. No, I have a feeling in the coming weeks people are going to find out it’s stronger than ever, even with the bullshit.”
Gen and Hartman jumped a little as they heard a loud crash off in the distance and the sound of someone yelling. Gen seemed to recognize the voice, and put her hands linked together on her hat as she rolled her eyes, and uneasily rocked from side to side.
HARTMAN: “Do you have anything to say in regards to Scott Stevens and your match later tonight?”
G. CARLSON: “Finally a question worth fucking answering. Scott said a lot the last time he spoke on me, that really made me get that he had missed the point completely on what I was saying to him about different situations, he contradicted himself so many times over the course of his little speech that it was really hard to follow. I mean he put on this big display with his HOW titles and how much of a big shot he was there, and then said those titles didn’t matter in 4CW. So why did you feel the need to peacock them in my face?! It was pointless. I’m a three time champion myself and I haven’t been able to do fuck all since then. It doesn’t make you a big shot, it doesn’t mean you are going to beat me. I’m more motivated than ever to step out and be the dominant force I once was when I first came to 4CW. He doesn’t intimidate me with the blood of my husband. He could bust me open and jar him up some of my blood, it’s about as close as he will ever get to Wrestling Royalty. He’ll be hung up on those little vials of blood for the rest of his life, because it will be the highlight of his entire career. How sad and fucking pathetic for him. Scott Stevens continues his pattern of being the Royal Family’s whipping boy, TONIGHT.”
Just then, the sound of more things crashing and more screaming can be heard. The voice being more distinct than it once was before. Gen looked down the hallway as if she knew exactly what was coming. She turned back to Hartman
G. CARLSON: “Well, that’s my cue to leave. Hope you got what you were looking for.”
Gen starts walking away from Hartman as he seems a bit in a huff about her leaving. The crashing and banging getting louder.
Gen didn’t answer as she seemed to be moving even faster to get away from whatever was coming. Holding her hand up and waving off the question. Hartman’s shoulders sank as everything on the table beside him was quickly swept away in rage, startling him as Elijah Carlson came into view of the camera. He smiled at Eli and waved at him.
HARTMAN: “Hey Eli, you just missed your wife.”
Eli turned to Hartman, pure rage in his eyes as he grabbed Hartman, throwing him to the floor before following in the direction that Gen had just disappeared off camera to. Hartman seemed to shuffle back against the wall, not wanting to get up until Eli was long gone, a bit shook up as he tried to pull himself back together.

We cut back to ringside, where Vinny Vassa and Steve Johnson are waiting for the next segment.
JOHNSON: “Well folks it has already been an exciting night of action, but we certainly have much more in store for you all!”
VASSA: “That’s right, because later on tonight we’ll be seeing a FIRE main event between Genie and Scott Stevens!”
JOHNSON: “Oh indeed, Scott Stevens has really been pushing the buttons of a lot of folks recently. It was at Adrenaline Fifty Nine where he made his mark, attacking the 4CW champion from behind.”
VASSA: “What a piece of shirt, Steve.”
JOHNSON: “I certainly agree!”
“Unsung” 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. Bryan walks out from the back, head held down low and the 4CW Pride 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.
VASSA: “Speaking of pieces of shirt, here comes the Pride champion!”
JOHNSON: “Oh you hush up now, Bryan Williams has a tough match later tonight. He is taking on Adrian Tanner Jr, who doesn’t seem very keen on Generation Now.”
VASSA: “I think the only people that like Generation Now …are just Generation Now! They aren’t making many friends lately.”
JOHNSON: “Well Bryan Williams is determined to make something out of this group, I guess he figures that would rub a few people the wrong way.”
VASSA: “Screw all of that, Bryan is out here by himself right now. Whatever he’s got to say I’m positive doesn’t concern any members of his group.”
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: “Well this crowd seems pretty receptive for the Pride champion right now, let’s hear what he’s got to say.”
Bryan’s music dies down, the crowd doing so as well as they watch him take a microphone. Bryan takes a moment to look out at the fans, looking all around him. A few small pockets start to cheer again, but they quickly die down when he starts to speak.
WILLIAMS: “I’ll try and make this quick for you all…”
Bryan pauses again, taking some serious thought to what he has to say. The crowd responds in kind, cheering for him as he takes his moment to think. There is a stern look on his face, Bryan Williams is all business at the moment.
WILLIAMS: “I’ve been public enemy number one since I won this title at Fright Night, it seems no matter where I look I got people gunning after me. As a champion you expect this kind of thing, that’s part of the fun really. The chase towards the gold, and the hunt after you get it. I’ve fought and I’ve fought, and still more and more people want a shot at me. More people think they deserve what I have. People like Adrian Tanner Jr, Persephone Marquis, Jason Cashe…”
The name alone is responded with a chorus of boos from the audience. Bryan pauses again, waiting for the crowd to get it out of their system.
WILLIAMS: “I’ve thought of myself as a fighting champion, and with the next pay per view quickly approaching …I’ve been thinking to myself about it. I’ve been wondering if any of these people are actually worthy? Therein lies the problem though, because doing that actively goes against the goal I set out for myself when I won this title. There should be no deliberation when it comes to defending your championship, only action.”
The crowd seems to agree, responding with a series of cheers.
WILLIAMS: “So when I talked to Perry Wallace about my next challenger, nobody seemed to really stand out to him. I was confused, because I thought for sure that there would be someone. Maybe I’m just the optimist, but he wanted to wait just a bit to see. Frankly, I could see some people that I would love to give another beating to. That seems to be the competitor in me though, because I had to take a step back for a moment and think it over. I had to look through Perry’s viewpoint, and I quickly realized that he was right.”
The crowd doesn’t really seem to like that, booing at the idea that Bryan does not yet have a challenger for his Pride championship. Bryan holds his hands up, trying to calm the crowd down so he can speak again.
JOHNSON: “It’s an odd point, but he does have one!”
VASSA: “Sounds like excuses to me! Get somebody in there, hell you can putt Jett Wilder in that match! I hear the fans would go crazy for that one!”
JOHNSON: “Be that as it may there doesn’t seem to be anybody that has earned this match quite yet, in Perry Wallace’s eyes!”
Finally the crowd dies down again, allowing Bryan the chance to speak.
WILLIAMS: “I would love to face Persephone again in this ring, defending my title. I would love to disappoint Jason Cashe yet again, for the umpteenth time, as I defend my title against him. Maybe it will happen, but not right now. Perry seems to want something different, and I just want to defend my title. I just want to get into this ring, because you all deserve to see something like that! You all deserve to see a champion you can respect, you can look up to on a daily basis. Someone who actually represents the qualities and integrity of a champion.”
The crowd seems to agree again, cheering along as Bryan talks.
WILLIAMS: “Just two weeks ago you had somebody walking out here, parading around a set of titles that he didn’t earn. You got a guy who tries to pass himself off as a champion, but in reality he’s just a fraud.”
The crowd boos, knowing exactly who Bryan is talking about.
VASSA: “Whoa, Bryan with the shade on Matthias Barrows there!”
JOHNSON: “You can’t exactly say it wasn’t unwarranted, especially with the way he’s been acting lately!”
VASSA: “What do you mean? Matthias totally earned those titles!”
WILLIAMS: “I am no fraud. I earned this championship, I paid for it with sweat and pain. I fought killers in this ring to keep this belt, and I’m not about to give it up any time soon! So you can bet that whoever does end up facing me in this ring will have a hell of a time. You can bet that whoever I’m put up against is going to wish that they were passed over. Bryan Williams is your Pride champion, and I’ll make sure that you all will never forget it.”
With that, Bryan tosses the microphone down. “Unsung” begins to play, the crowd cheering as Bryan raises his Pride championship up high into the air.
JOHNSON: “Well, he might not have a challenger but Bryan Williams is sending a message to whoever does! He’s putting the roster on notice now!”
VASSA: “A bit of fire from Bryan there, I like it!”
JOHNSON: “Make no mistake, Bryan Williams is ready for a fight. We’ll just have to see who will be the one that gets to bring it to him.”

Our scene opens backstage where Perry Wallace is sitting behind the desk in the main office, watching the show via a flat screen television hanging on the wall across the room. Noticing the camera, he quickly turns in its direction, adjusting his tie before folding his hands over each other on top of the desk.
WALLACE: “Good evening my fellow Americans.”
Chuckling, he breaks all seriousness before grabbing the glass of brown liquor on the desk and throwing back a drink. Looking back to the camera, he wipes the excess from the corner of his mouth before proceeding.
WALLACE: “I’ve always wanted to do that. In all serious, I’m here to address one thing that has been a topic of discussion for the last couple of months.
The 4CW Tag Team Championships.
As you all know, it’s been quite sometime since the Tag Team Championships were defended. There are a few things that could be reasons why. For one, we haven’t particularly had any teams step up to the plate and challenge the reigning champs, Ascended Supremacy. They’ve defended against any and all challengers whatsoever. There’s no denying that. Second, well, since Fright Night, one half of the Tag Team Champions have been sidelined with lingering injuries.
That brings us to a predicament.
Just three weeks ago, we saw the return of said Tag Team Champion as he valiantly came to the aid of his fellow members of the so called ‘Royal Family’. I don’t know whether or not he was medically cleared to return to action for the brief moment that he did, but the fact of the matter remains the same.
We need a team to challenge the champions at the upcoming pay-per-view that will be held March first.
I don’t care if we have one or three. We could have a goddamn four corners elimination tag match for all I care. I NEED to see the Tag Team Championships defended at said pay-per-view, which will be officially announced following tonight’s event.
With that said, come one, come all. This is an open challenge laid out by yours truly. It can be two random people pairing up for the first time ever. It can be Generation Now. It can be ANYONE in the back that wants to step up and challenge the champions who have been dominant in their reign.
So here’s what I’m going to do. In two weeks, at Adrenaline, I want a team or few teams to step up to the challenge. This is your chance to shine! This is a one time opportunity for ANYONE who wants to take advantage of it. Step up.
I expect to see something at the following Adrenaline, or else I’m reporting each and every single one of you to the FBI.
Thank you.”

And with that, Wallace waves the camera away as the scene fades out.


POWERS: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall!”
“Foxy Lady” by Jimi Hendrix hits the speakers as Mary-Jane Braxton walks out from the back and makes her way down to the ring.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring first, from Tribes Hill, New York, weighing in at one hundred thirteen pounds and standing five feet, six inches tall. She is ‘The Dirty Hippie’ MARY-JANE BBRRAAXXTTOONN!!!”
Sliding into the ring, Mary-Jane walks over to her corner, looking over the crowd before turning back and waiting patiently for her opponent to come down.
POWERS: “And the opponent!”
A low tone beat mixed with an electric guitar sounds through the arena for a few seconds before going full force over the sound system. Cameras get a close up of the big screen as the Anti-Starlet logo is presented in until transitions into a video of the music video and clips of Alexis Morrison. This plays for a few minutes before entering fading back to an foggy entrance way. Out of the smoke, “The Anti-Starlet” Alexis Morrison walks onto the stage wearing a leather jacket, her blonde hair falls behind the woman, and she walks down.
POWERS: “From Salem, New York, weighing in at one hundred and twenty-five pounds… She is the ‘Anti-Starlet’, ALEXIS MMOORRRRIISSOONN!!!”
She stops, looks at the ring for a moment, circles it halfway before pulling herself onto the apron, giving a menacing stare back toward the crowd. Alexis climbs into ring with attitude, going straight to her respected corner taking off her leather jacket. The Anti-Starlet turns, she starts preparing herself while testing the ropes and carefully watching her surroundings.
JOHNSON: “Making her 4CW in-ring debut tonight, we have Alexis Morrison ladies and gentlemen!”
VASSA: “I’ve been excited ever since she officially signed with 4CW and eager to see her finally compete in the ring.”
JOHNSON: “Well the anticipation can finally come to an end because here she is, in a 4CW ring, right here on Adrenaline!”
VASSA: “Across from her, we have another new comer who has had quite a bit of bad luck in 4CW as of late.”
JOHNSON: “Mary-Jane came in hot from the start but all of that quickly came to an end when Persephone stopped her dead in her tracks at the last Adrenaline.”
VASSA: “That was a brutal one, wasn’t it? Marqueef demolished MJ right there in that ring , straight up disrespected her and everything.”
JOHNSON: “We’ll see if she can turn things around here tonight with an opponent that seems to be quite the opposite than the foul mouthed Persephone.”
VASSA: “Alexis has the opportunity to start her career off in 4CW in the right direction as well. A win here tonight could be the very beginning of a legacy in the making.”
JOHNSON: “It’s a big night for both ladies and when it’s all said and done, one will be on the right path while the other is left right where they started.”
With both ladies ready in their corners, the official quickly calls for the bell, officially kicking things off!

Shooting out of their corners, both ladies appear to be full of energy and life as they approach each other in the center of the ring. Circling one another, the two then lock up, grabbing ahold of one another and fighting for leverage. Popping her knee upward, Alexis drives it into MJ’s stomach, forcing her to buckle over as she then wraps her arm around her head and applies a side headlock. Quickly turning her body, Alexis lifts MJ off of her feet, flipping her over to her back down on the canvas.
Pushing herself back to her feet, Alexis takes a few steps back with a smirk on her face, giving MJ a moment to regain herself and rise as well. Once standing, MJ stomps her foot against the mat in frustration before darting in Alexis’ direction. Taking a swing for Alexis’ head, MJ comes up short as she ducks out of the way. Reaching up, Alexis locks onto MJ’s arm, using it to spin her around before pulling her into a short-arm clothesline!
Popping back up from the mat, the frustration shows in MJ’s face as Alexis looks on from across the ring. MJ looks to the crowd for sympathy, but gets nothing in return before turning her attention back to Alexis. Motioning for MJ to come to her, Alexis waves her over before readying herself. From stand still, MJ bursts forward as she charges across the ring at full speed. Closing in, she lunges forward with both arms aimed for Alexis, only to miss and eat turnbuckle as Alexis takes her down face first into the corner with a drop toe-hold!

JOHNSON: “Mary-Jane is giving it her all but Alexis just remains one step ahead of her!”
VASSA: “Giving it her all? Are you serious?”
JOHNSON: “YES!!! Look how hard she’s trying!”
VASSA: “If that’s her all then she’s going to have one hell of a rough time in 4CW.”
Using the ropes, MJ pulls herself up to both knees before coming to a stop and holding her face in the palm of both hands. Moving in from behind, Alexis locks onto her, pulling MJ up to her feet. Spinning MJ around, Alexis then drives both palms into MJ’s chest, driving her back against the corner. She then unloads with a combination of punches and kicks, wearing MJ down with each landing blow.
Locking on MJ’s wrist, Alexis then pulls her away from the corner and uses all of her weight to whip MJ to the opposite corner across the ring. Crashing hard against the corner, MJ bounces off and stumbles forward, right into the hands of Alexis. Lifting MJ off her feet, Alexis then drops down to one knee, dropping MJ over her elevated knee with a backbreaker.

VASSA: “Alexis just isn’t going to ease up one bit!”
JOHNSON: “This is her 4CW debut! It’s either go hard or go home!”
VASSA: “I don’t want to see her go home so give Mary-Jane everything you have, Alexis!”
Back on her feet, Alexis looks down at MJ with a smirk across her face. Allowing MJ to slowly get back to her feet, Alexis stands back, waiting for the opportune time to strike. Once standing, Alexis quickly moves in, catching MJ by surprise with a forearm shot to the side of the head. Firing back in retaliation, MJ connects with an elbow right between Alexis’ eyes, staggering her backwards. Locking onto Alexis, MJ then drives her backwards, until pressing her back against the ropes.
Locking her arm around Alex’s head, MJ grabs the back of her pants and goes to lift her up for a suplex. Catching her foot underneath the middle rope, Alexis prevents MJ from taking her up and over, forcing MJ to drop her back to her feet. Alexis then counters the suplex and lifts MJ into the air in a vertical suplex position of her own. Turning her body while holding MJ up, Alexis drops her down, legs across the top rope, holding MJ in mid-air. In the blink of an eye, Alexis then drops MJ to the canvas with a dragon screw neck whip.

JOHNSON: “One step ahead of her the entire time.”
VASSA: “Alexis has been, there’s no doubt about that.”
JOHNSON: “I don’t see Mary-Jane coming back from that dragon screw neck whip.”
VASSA: “Me either. She’s just too worn down at this point.”
Pulling MJ up from the mat, Alexis grabs ahold of her and lifts her into the air and onto her shoulders. Spinning around, Alexis then drops her to the mat with an argentine backbreaker rack dropped into a reverse STO.
JOHNSON: “Forever Night!”
VASSA: “There’s no coming back from that! Throw in the towel!”
JOHNSON: “This one appears to be in the books ladies and gentlemen!”
Crawling over MJ and making the cover, Alexis easily makes the pin as the official slides in from across the ring with the count.

JOHNSON: “That’s it folks, Alexis Morrison has won it in her 4CW debut.”
VASSA: “Somebody get Mary-Jane some help. That poor little girl seems lost.”
JOHNSON: “Despite whatever Mary-Jane is going through, I have to say, I’m very impressed with what Alexis has brought to the ring tonight.”
“Stronger” hits the speakers as Alexis slowly climbs to her feet, hardly showing any signs of fatigue and not even a drop of sweat shed. Stepping in beside her, the official raises her arm in the air as she stands victorious.


As we fade in from black there’s Christopher Wrigley standing by in a nice new navy pinstripe suit with a nice bright right tie and a white pocket square which looks to be silk from the finest Asian worm butts. Wrigley’s got a huge smile on his face and looks ready to go. In the background is a blank black screen on the obvious green screen. He speaks loudly and with a lot of energy ready to go.
WRIGLEY: “Detained at an airport?”
The green screen changes to that of an airport with thousands of people standing with signs protesting the recent detainees. The smile on Wrigley’s face fades to a serious tone.
WRIGLEY: “Denied entrance to the United States?”
The green screen changes to that of the Statue of Liberty in the background holding that famous sign. Wrigley sort of just shrugs with that line.
WRIGLEY: “Handcuffed for no reason and made to answer the same question over and over for the next five hours with only coffee to drink?”
The smile on Wrigley is still completely gone, he even pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts.
WRIGLEY: “Well… sorry, I can’t help you out there.
Yeah, I’m not going to be able to help you out with getting you out of detention. However, while you were handcuffed to a table with someone going roto rooter on you did you happen to spill your coffee?
Oh, you did? Did it leave a burn too?”

Slowly, the sly smile begins to grow again on the lips of Wrigley at the mention of the coffee burn. A wave of thoughts just seem to crash within his brain. He pumps his fist into the air and pulls down like a truck driver as he yells out.
WRIGLEY: “Cha-ching! Now we’re talking! Once they take the gag out of your mouth, and the handcuffs off why don’t you use your newly found freedom and give me a call because I’m going to get you the money for those burns.
And I’m going to make it rain.
Speaking of which, you’re probably going to want to hop into a shower because you’re probably a little nasty after all those hours being interrogating and I just got the carpets cleaned in my office.”

Wrigley holds his nose at the thought of that one. Wrigley suddenly gets all serious once again, the background turns to that of the American flag waving in the breeze.
WRIGLEY: “Remember no matter if you’re black, white, brown, light brown, dark black, and even green if you’ve got a skin thing going on… together we stand.
United as one…
…to make some serious money!
And that’s the most American thing you could ever want to do. God bless the U.S.A.”

With that, Wrigley gives a salute with the flag in the background there is even some patriotic music playing in the background and that’s when Wrigley points with his other hand to the phone number that pops up at the bottom of the screen.
CALL (888)SUE-THEM or (888)783-8436

Fade to advertisement.


VASSA: “Oh boy, we have an exciting one coming up next folks!”
JOHNSON: “We do indeed! These two have been quite the buzz on social media as you were telling me earlier.”
VASSA: “They have been. Maybe if you quit living under that rock you call home you’d step into the present times and join in on the fun.”
JOHNSON: “No thanks, I’m good.”
There’s a short sputter and hiss as a needle touches down on a record. Shortly after that the sound of “Suburbia” by Kavinsky starts to blare out of the PA system.
“I come to life
I come to life
Yea, I come to life”

It’s rough and scratchy, like a bad girl’s muff, but it gets the fans up off their asses as Dare Clemmens steps out from the entrance.
Oh yeah, he’s wearing those sunglasses he makes look so good, a black leather jacket and a t-shirt that reads quite plainly, “Stolen.”

“I come to life when I’m driving, see the city lights
Got me slipping, not too much to start it like
Because the night is young, and I got spots to hit
Bitches deceiving shit, shorty body feverish perfected”

POWERS: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall!”
He makes his way down towards the ring as the fans hoot and holler. Right behind him is none other than Tony Chu. You’re damn right. It’s Tony Chu.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, accompanied by the one and only Tony Chu… weighing in at one hundred ninety pounds and standing six feet tall… DARE CCLLEEMMMMEENNSS!!!”
The two make it to the ring where Dare takes off his jacket and sunglasses and hands them off to Tony. Tony looks mildly offended for a moment before handing Dare’s belongings off to a ring hand.
Dare slides into the ring and pops up to his feet. This guy is serious business or completely ready to die a terrible death. The fans are excited to find out. Dare removes his t-shirt much to the pleasure of the female fans. He balls it up and tosses it into the crowd.

“Welcome bitches up to perfection
I’m destined, please don’t try me son, I’m bad, who tested
All these nobody lames can’t see my flow
You would’ve thought it was legal, all the stour I blow”

That’s right, he’s build like he’s etched out of stone and has just the right amount of chest hair. His smile, oh my, it’s a devilish one. Those eyes? You wanna get you some. Male or female. You’re questioning your sexuality.
The music stops and Dare goes to his corner, ready to kill or get killed.
Tony goes to his corner, quietly crossing his fingers, hoping he doesn’t have to bury another client soon.

POWERS: “And the opponent!”
The lights go dark as the beginning of “Blessings” by Big Sean hits the fans more then likely unhappy to hear the music playing.
VASSA: “The Future Amazing Great has returned to a 4CW ring near you!”
JOHNSON: “The fans are loving it!”
Out from the back dancing and wilding out is Jett Wilder followed not far by the imposing Luiz Cavalcante and the beautiful Carmella Wilder. Though generally the young and small Wilder alone would not be imposing with his atrocious dance moves we get a close up of the imposing Luiz walking to the ring to really strike some form of fear. Clapping her son on is Carmella with her glasses on looking professional as she usually does, as Wilder bounces up the steps stopping.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Los Angeles, California accompanied to the ring by Carmella Wilder and Luiz Cavalcante, weighing in at one hundred and forty five pounds and standing five feet, eight inches tall, JETT WWIILLDDEERR!!!”
Waiting for Luiz who as usual doesn’t look pleased to have to stop and lower the top rope down so that Wilder can jump over it to show off. Shaking his head as he follows him into the ring as Jett jumps up to the top rope pounding his chest as the crowd cheers for him. Looking into the distance, Jett points at a sign in the crowd as he slightly blushes.

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.
VASSA: “For someone who was once booed by everyone, Jett sure has gained the support of the fans since retuning to 4CW.”
JOHNSON: “He’s young and appealing to the younger generation. If he could just get his head right the kid could a very long way.”
VASSA: “He is a former Pride Champion! I think he’s headed in the right direction.”
JOHNSON: “Tonight he’s up against another young up and comer with Dare Clemmens.”
VASSA: “If he’s anything like his brother, the wrestling world better be on the lookout.”
JOHNSON: “There has been quite the controversy revolving around these two as of late. What seemed to have started off as a friendship, these two have turned into what appears to be bitter rivals.”
VASSA: “Jett is young in this business, there’s no doubt about that. But with who his opponent is tonight, Jett has the experience edge when it comes to being inside of those ropes.”
JOHNSON: “We’ll see how it goes. This match literally has the making to steal the whole dang show!”
Hyped in his return to a 4CW ring, Jett bounces back and forth in his corner. He then looks to the outside where Carmella and Luiz try and talk a game plan but as usual, Jett waves them aside before turning his attention back to Dare standing across the ring.
Talking to his manager, Tony, who stands on the apron, the two appear to be discussing business until Tony bursts into laughter, pointing across the ring at Jett. As the two share a good laugh, Jett begins growing slightly irritated. Tony then steps down from the apron as Dare turns his attention to Jett.
With both men now ready in their corners, the official quickly checks with them before signaling for the bell.


Without a single delay, both Jett and Dare exit their corners and approach each other until standing face to face in the center of the ring. The crowd slowly grows louder and louder as the two stand off, piercing one another with the eyes. Extending his arms out to his sides, Jett looks Dare up and down with a smirk on his face before the camera zooms in to read his lips “I am the future amazing great.” Shaking his head in disagreement but slightly grinning, Dare then slams both hands forward, driving his palms into Jett’s chest and pushing him back a few steps. Jett then fires back and charges forward, shoving Dare back a few steps as well.
The two then step into one another, colliding heads as the bad mouth the other. Using their heads, the two try and push the other away as you can see them moving back and forth as they exchange their momentum. Dare then allows Jett to leans all of his weight against his head before using it against him and side stepping out of the way. Stumbling forward, Jett nearly trips over his own feet as he passes Dare. For good measure, Dare then kicks Jett in the butt, sending him stumbling even further and into the ropes.
Catching himself on the ropes, the frustration shows in Jett’s facial expression before he quickly whips around and cuts his eyes in Dare’s direction. Jett then charges towards Dare full speed, taking a swing for his head but coming up short as Dare side steps him and takes him down to the canvas with a drop toe hold. Bursting into laughter, Tony slaps his hand onto the apron from outside of the ring, enjoying the entertainment inside of the ring.

JOHNSON: “Dare may not have the in-ring experience but he’s making Jett look like a fool right now.”
VASSA: “Those type of tricks aren’t learned in the ring. I’m sure Jett has encountered this a time or two on the playground.”
On his feet, Dare circles Jett as he slowly begins to push himself up. Standing tall, Jett brushes himself off before turning his attention back to Dare. The two then circle one another in their ready positions. Making the first move, Jett shoots in for Dare’s leg but comes up short as he hops out of the way. Trying once more, Jett shorts in for Dare’s leg and misses a second time as Dare quickly side steps him. Slamming his fist against the mat, Jett then pops back to his feet as the two begin to circle one another. After making a full circle around the ring, Jett stutter steps forward before dipping down as if going for Dare’s leg. As Dare leaps back, Jett quickly bursts upward, lunging forward and hitting Dare off guard with an open palm slap across the chest.
Moving quickly, Jett then follows up with another slap to the chest and then a kick to the gut, forcing Dare to buckle over. Locking onto Dare’s wrist, Jett then whips him to the ropes across the ring. As Dare hits the ropes and comes back on the rebound, Jett charges directly at him, leaping forward and leveling him with a flying shoulder block. After both men hit the mat, they roll in opposite directions before pushing themselves up. Standing first, Jett quickly rushes in on Dare as he gets to one knee. Locking onto Dare’s head with one hand, Jett holds it in place as he begins raining down on him with closed fists to the top of the skull. Releasing Dare, Jett leaves him wobbling back and forth before turning to the rope behind him and taking off in their direction. Coming back on the rebound, Jett leaps into the air, feet aimed first and plants them both into Dare’s chest with a running dropkick.

VASSA: “Jett’s turned things around and it could mean trouble for Dare if his momentum gets too out of control.”
JOHNSON: “He calls himself the future amazing great. Well, let’s see if he can show that he’s more than just a catch phrase.”
Back on his feet, Jett looks down at Dare for a moment before turning to the crowd and playing in to them. After a few short moments pass of him showing off, Jett gets his head back into the game and locks his sights on Dare. Turning to the ropes once more, Jett charges towards them and comes back on the rebound with even more speed. Sliding feet first to the mat, Jett drives both feet into Dare’s shoulder with a baseball slide. Pulling his arm up from the mat, Jett quickly grabs onto his elbow, feeling a bit of rug burn from his flesh dragging against the canvas. Pushing himself back up, Jett slowly walks to his corner where Carmella looks on with concern. Kneeling down in the corner, Jett shows his elbow to Carmella before she pulls her head through the ropes and kisses his booboo.
JOHNSON: “What in the world are we witnessing right now?”
VASSA: “The kid got a booboo. Don’t act like your mother never kissed yours when you were a child.”
JOHNSON: “He isn’t a child. I’m sure his father must be proud.”
VASSA: “Shout out to you Frankie! I know you’re watching!”
As Carmella tends to Jett, Dare slowly begins to climb to his feet. Looking to the outside, Dare spots Tony laughing at the sight of Jett being tended to by his mother. Pointing in their direction, Tony directs Dare’s attention to them. Shocked at the display of what he’s seeing take place right before his eyes, Dare chuckles a bit before making his way over to the loving family. As Carmella tends to Jett, keeping them both distracted, Luiz begins to wave at them and point behind them, trying to draw their attention to Dare, but not getting anywhere as the mother and son combo are too invested in Jett’s booboo.
Grabbing ahold of Jett, Dare locks onto him, forcing Jett’s eyes to light up as Carmella quickly pulls herself through the ropes and back to the outside of the ring. Begging for Dare not to hurt her baby boy, Carmella pleads from the outside of the ring as Dare looks on. With a smirk on his face, Dare pulls one hand away from Jett before grabbing his crotch and thrusting it in Carmella’s direction. He then spins Jett around and connects with an open palm slap across the face with the hand he just grabbed himself with.
Locking onto Jett’s wrist, Dare then whips him to the ropes and as Jett comes back on the rebound, Dare charges towards him, leaping through the air and wiping him out with a Lou Thez Press. Landing on top of Jett, Dare then unloads with a fury of punches to Jett’s head, knocking him senseless with each crushing blow. Popping back to his feet, Dare then pulls Jett up to his before lifting him into the air and holding him upside down. Dropping down to one knee, Dare slams Jett down across his elevated knee with a shoulder breaker.

JOHNSON: “See what I mean? This kid has to learn how to keep his head in the game.”
VASSA: “He was doing well for a second there until getting sidetracked with an elbow injury. That just opened the door for Dare to take lead.”
JOHNSON: “Well after that shoulder breaker, I’m sure Jett’s elbow won’t be bothering him anymore.”
VASSA: “Let’s just hope Carmella doesn’t climb in the ring and kiss it to make it feel better. If she does, well, I have a booboo on my crotch that she could tend to.”
Pulling Jett back to his feet, Dare drags him towards the center of the ring before sending him crashing into the corner. As Jett holds himself up with his arms draped over the top ropes, Dare then charges in like a bull, headed straight for him. Dropping his shoulder, Dare leaps forward for an extremely high impact gore.
JOHNSON: “Make a Bi–“
VASSA: “Crash and burn!”
At the very last split second, Jett rolls against the ropes and out of the way, leaving nothing but an empty corner to cushion Dare’s collision. His body goes through the top and middle ropes as his shoulder slams against the ring post. Hanging over the ropes, Dare moans loudly before slowly pulling himself back through and dropping down to both knees. Holding his shoulder, he rests his head against the turnbuckle as the pain really starts to settle in.
VASSA: “You thought that shoulder breaker was bad?! Dare just tried to dislocate his!”
JOHNSON: “That was some quick thinking on Jett’s part. He really saved himself right there and also managed to put a hurting on Dare in the process.”
Realizing what had just happened, a smile comes to Jett’s face as he looks back and forth between Dare and the crowd. Jett then pulls Dare away from the corner and shoves him to the center of the ring. Barely able to even stand, Dare just secures his shoulder with his hand, paying no mind to Jett as he races past him and darts towards the ropes. Hitting the ropes and coming back on the rebound, Jett leaps forward, wrapping his arm around Dare’s head and driving his face into the canvas with a bulldog!
As Dare’s head bounces up from the mat and he rolls over to his back, Jett quickly pops up to his feet in excitement. Waving his arms up and down, he begins to play to the crowd as the noise level in the arena grows louder and louder. Turning to the nearby ropes, Jett runs towards them, leaping straight up to the top.

VASSA: “With ups like that I can see why he’s always talking about schooling people at a game of hoops.”
Extending his arms to his sides, Jett yells to the fans as they return the call with a roar of cheers. Turning to face the inside of the ring, Jett lines himself up as he looks down to the canvas at Dare still down on his back. Looking up to the heavens, Jett then locks his sights on Dare once more before leaping straight into the air. As he reaches his highest point, Jett kisses the sky before gravity takes hold and pulls him back to earth, descending with a frog splash.
VASSA: “Jesus, the air!”
JOHNSON: “The Swag Splash!”
As Jett closes in, Dare curls both legs, leaving nothing but his knees to break Jett’s fall as his stomach crashes against them.
JOHNSON: “Dare countered it!”
Kicking his legs, Dare then flips Jett over to his back before rolling over him and making the cover.
VASSA: “Jett’s down and Dare could seal the deal right here!”
JOHNSON: “There’s the count!”

On the outside, Tony reaches underneath the bottom rope and grabs onto Jett’s feet, securing them to the canvas.

Turning the corner, Luiz charges around the ring and heads straight for Tony. Lunging forward, he takes a swing for Dare’s manager.

Rolling underneath the bottom rope, Tony evades Luiz but manages to release his hold on Jett’s feet before the official can even notice.
JOHNSON: “Tony Chu pulled a fast one!”
VASSA: “He just cost Jett the match in his 4CW return!”
JOHNSON: “You thought the claims against officials were bad before. Just wait until he goes to social media about this travesty.”
VASSA: “This time there’s no denying it. We all watched as Tony cost him the match and the official didn’t even notice! I demand a rematch!”
“Suburbia” hits the speakers As Tony helps Dare up to his feet, celebrating wildly with him. On the outside of the ring, Carmella and Luiz unite, talking amongst each other as the two shake their heads at what just happened. Stepping in between Tony and Dare, the official grabs Dare’s hand and raises it to the sky for victory.

POWERS: “Here is your winner, DARE CCLLEEMMMMEENNSS!!!”
As the official releases Dare’s hand, his attention is quickly grabbed as Carmella has now stepped up onto the apron. She calls him over and begins arguing what had just happened. Unaware of it, the official acts as if nothing wrong happened, no true evidence to overturn a decision for the evening.
JOHNSON: “Well isn’t that something.”
VASSA: “I can already see it now. Perry! If you’re listening, run and hide. You don’t want to be around when they come looking for you.”
JOHNSON: “They have every right to be upset. Jett was robbed clear as day right there in that ring.”
VASSA: “The official didn’t see it. I’m not denying the fact that Jett was just cheated.”
JOHNSON: “The call has been made and the official announcement has echoed throughout the arena. What can we do now?”
VASSA: “Hope for a rematch between the two with no one at ringside to interfere?”
JOHNSON: “You know what? That isn’t a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all, Vinny.”


POWERS: ”The following contest is scheduled for one fall…”
Lights out.
The four screens that make up the entrance set for 4CW click on one at a time to static. After a couple of seconds a human hand appears within the static of each of the four screens. Then one by one, with a heavy crashing sound each of the screens appears to be smashed by an unseen force, when the fourth one is smashed the lights of the arena flash back on and standing in a spotilght in the middle stage is none other than Eddie Valentine. Just then the opening of “Renegades of Funk” by Rage Against the Machine begins to play out over the arena. Valentine has a smirk on his face, a cocky and confident look on his face and walks with a strut that matches that. He is wearing a t-shirt which reads ‘Grab’em by the Fupa’ in 1980’s style neon font — the GRAB’EM and FUPA are enlarged so you can read them. Closely behind is none other than his entertainment lawyer, Chris Wrigley. Wrigley makes sure to stay a few steps behind at all times clutching his briefcase tightly and looking around threatening to serve anyone who gets to close to him with a lawsuit.

POWERS: “From the Entertainment Capital of the World, Atlantic City! Staning in at five foot ten inches, and a slim trim one hundred ninenty seven pounds, he is the two thousand and fifteen Pie Eating champion of the worrrrrrrrrrrrrrld! Here is EDDIE VVAALLEENNTTIINNEE!!!
Just as Valentine hits the ring with Wrigley, Valentine heads to the ring ropes and removes his t-shirt which he tosses into the crowd for some lucky kid to have. At the same time Wrigley tries to make sure that the referee is on the up and up, even trying to get him to sign a wavier or something. Slowly Valentine takes off his sunglasses and soaks in the spotlight one last time before his music begins to fade and the house lights return to normal.
The arena lights suddenly go down, and a Trollface appears on the big screen.

Then, a sound of drums fills the arena.

POWERS: “And now, standing 6’00 tall and weighing in at 180 pounds! From somewhere in Skyrim… “THE GADFLY”… MARIANO FFEERRNNAANNDDEEZZ!!!”
JOHNSON: “DA #TROLL GUY ready to come out on stage…”
VASSA: “Hope he gets eaten by a dragon.”
The sound is later accompanied with guttural, barbarian chanting in a strange language, as the Song of the Dragonborn from The Elder Scrolls V – Skyrim begins its triumphant rhythm. Growing slowly in intensity matching the song, the arena lights come back…

Once the lights come back on, and after a huge pyro blast, Mariano is standing at the stage entrance, posing to the crowd going wild, but something is off…
JOHNSON: “Wait, what is that!?”
VASSA: “He’s still dressed in the lawyer suit!”
And indeed, Mariano is coming out in his elegant blue suit, walking nonchalantly to the ring carrying the briefcase from earlier. Once he reaches the apron, he sets it down and takes out a huge stack of papers.
VASSA: “Is he ACTUALLY suing Eddie Valentine and Chris Wrigley?”
JOHNSON: “Looks like it, Vinny.”
Getting in the ring through the ropes, Mariano gives the Trollface to Eddie Valentine, and requests the mic from Mike Powers.
FERNANDEZ:Here we go, mang! OBJECTION!
Without any warning, he throws the stack of papers in Valentine’s face! Once Valentine turns back, Mariano is standing there, his arms thrown around, asking “PROBLEM?”, and the crowd popping huge at his antic!
JOHNSON: “Another one of DA #TROLL GUY’s mind games, hitting Valentine – quite literally – with a lawsuit!”
VASSA: “Stupid.”
JOHNSON: “But funny nonetheless!”
Eddie doesn’t take too kindly to having a stack of papers thrown in his face and, in retaliation, charges at Manny and spears him to the ground, mounting him and delivering several right hands before finally being pulled off by the referee and his lawyer, Chris Wrigley. Once Eddie is back in his corner, Mariano is given ample time to get himself right while the referee Laroy Jones cleans up the mess of papers that were all over the ring. After that was finished he gives both competitors a stern warning and then checks with both to make sure they’re ready to begin. When they give their nod yes, he signals for the bell.

When the bell rings, Eddie continues his assault on Mariano that had started moments earlier. Sprinting across the ring, Eddie defies gravity momentarily, spinning and catching Fernandez across the jaw with a spinning wheel kick. Mariano pops back up to his feet as Valentine springs back up and jumps, bouncing off the ropes and floating back in Manny’s direction, catching him with a springboard back elbow that drops Manny to the mat once more. At rapid pace, Valentine is back up and Mariano suddenly finds himself groggy and searching for answers. Before he can find any he’s presented with another problem of Eddie Valentine springboarding once more off the ropes, flipping and landing square across his upper torso with a springboard moonsault. Valentine covers quickly.

With authority, Manny tosses Eddie off of him and scrambles back to his feet. As he stands, the relentless assault of Eddie Valentine continues in a series of rapid fire kicks to the inside and outside of each leg, which he follows up with a step up enziguri that once more drops Manny to the mat. Finally slowing the pace, Eddie drops down and locks in a side headlock, torquing the head of Da #Troll Guy in an uncomfortable direction.
VASSA: ”Quick action early on and it’s all Eddie Valentine.”
JOHNSON: ”This is what we’ve been waiting to see out of him. He’s abundantly talented, he’s just yet to find a way to effectively implement his style of attack in 4CW. Mariano could find himself in a lot of trouble if things are finally starting to click with Eddie Valentine.”
Fernandez works his way slowly back to his feet, with Eddie continuing to torque the headlock, applying a painful amount of pressure. Eventually, though, Manny is able to shove Eddie off of him and into the ropes. When Valentine uses the ropes to come back at him with lightning speed, Manny leapfrogs him. Valentine slams on the breaks and turns to catch Fernandez off guard but is caught in the side of the temple with a pele kick from Manny. With Valentine crumbling to the mat, Manny gets the break that he needs, rubbing his head and shaking the stars away.
After regaining his bearings, Manny moves to the corner turnbuckle and pushes himself up to the middle rope. When Eddie rolls back over onto his back, Manny leaps from the top rope and drops an elbow expertly down across Valentines sternum, causing the the man to clutch his chest in pain. As though he wanted to match Valentines pace from earlier, Manny scrambles back to his feet and sprints to the rope, springboarding off the middle rope and floating over, landing a springboard moonsault that was as pretty as the one Eddie had landed on him a few minutes earlier. Following the same pattern that Eddie had set, Manny hooks the leg as Laroy Jones slides in and counts the pinfall.


Right at two Eddie manages to get his shoulder up. Seemingly expecting Eddie to do so, Manny grins and rises to his feet, pulling Eddie up with him. He quickly pushes him back into the corner and then climbs to the middle rope delivering blow after blow to the unprotected face of Eddie Valentine while the crowd counts along.

Manny steps down and allows Valentine to stumble out of the corner and once more fall to the mat. Sensing opportunity, Mariano looks at Eddie and then to the corner and then back to Eddie before he steps through the ropes and ascends to the top rope. Steadying himself he shrugs and grins at Eddie as the crowd shouts “PROBLEM?!” in response just before Mariano leaps from the top rope and attempts to drop a leg right across the throat of his opponent. At the last second, however, Eddie manages to roll out of the way and leave Mariano crashing to the mat.
Moving quickly, Eddie climbs to his feet and steps through the ropes, ascending to the top rope of the same corner that Mariano had just been in. Mockingly, Eddie shrugs and shouts “PROBLEM?!” at Mariano before leaping off and driving a leg drop straight across his throat.

VASSA: ”I… think Mariano just tried to steal Eddie’s signature maneuver that he calls the Tea Bag Drop.”
JOHNSON: ”Well if that’s what he was doing it didn’t work out to well for him.”
With the momentum fully back in his favor, Eddie rolls over and pushes himself back up to a vertical base before bending down and pulling Manny up with him. Fernandez tries to fight back, trading blows with Eddie before Valentine kicks him squarely in the stomach with his boot. He then hooks Fernandez’s arms. WHAM BAM THANK YOU MAAM! Valentine drives Fernandez face first down into the mat and rolls him over quickly, going for the cover.

VASSA: ”That match moved at an insane pace from beginning to the end.”
JOHNSON: ”Indeed it did. The momentum swung back and forth so quickly it was difficult to keep up with but at the end of the day, Eddie Valentine managed to prevail this time.”
Valentine stands, arms raised in the air as the referee takes hold of his wrist and points to him as the winner while Mike Powers makes the official announcement.
POWERS: ”Here is your winner by pinfall… EDDIE VVAALLEENNTTIINNEE!!!
As Manny begins to recover, Valentine exits the ring and backs up the ramp with Chris Wrigley at his side. Suddenly, as though he had forgotten, Eddie remembers his sunglasses and places them on his face as points down to the ring at his fallen opponent, smiling at him as Mariano pushes himself back up to his knees, a look of frustration evident on his face as the scene fades backstage.

Even after his hectic bout with Johnny Evil, Jason Cashe couldn’t be found with a bigger smile. His back up against a wall in the back, he has Marquis hanging on him in her Koala grip. Legs gripped around his waist, her arms around his neck as they are locked together by the lips. His hand cupping her, holding her up from the under parts of her butt cheeks. She bites his bottom lip and he groans out in pain trying to pull away. Painfully smiling at her when she releases it he fakes a pout.
CASHE: “Ouch! Don’t kiss bully me, alright?”
MARQUIS: “Ugh, whatever…”
Pushing off him, she gets to her own two feet. Leaning in, she kisses him as if to heal the pain on his face.
MARQUIS: “I have to take a dump. I’ll be right back.”
CASHE: “Can I watch?”
MARQUIS: “Ewww! No! We’re not there yet, Ween. Stay.”
She trots away and he ignores that she gave him a dog like command. It didn’t bother him if she meant it like that or if it had been her saying to not follow her to the bathroom. He has such strange kinks. Letting his head lean back against the wall against his back, he starts to whistle. Not noticing as Jett Wilder walks up with a glare on his face.
WILDER: “Cashe! Hey…”
Cashe looks down at the newly re-signed 4CW talent; a former Pride Champion and someone that had traded barbs and fists with Cashe as well. Still, there has been some type of understanding between them; a connection, thanks to Marquis.
CASHE: “Jetthro! How ya doing lil’ buddy?”
WILDER: “Just fine and dandy… That’s not why I’m here. Cut the short pleasantries, alright? I came to warn you.”
Pushing himself off from against the wall, Jason Cashe grins at Jett as his eyebrows raise almost intrigued as to what Jett could be about to say.
CASHE: “Oh yeah? What’s up? Are there angry fans talking about jumping me? Are the fans asking if I have a purple heart from WWII? Did I wrestle Abraham Lincoln? Queef loves Honest Abe!”
WILDER: “Shut up. Lookie here, Cashe! You better not hurt her again…”
CASHE: “Who? Queef? Come o–“
WILDER: “I’m not joking! She is my friend and for whatever reason she.. Loves YOU! So I’m TELLING you that if you hurt her again? You’re gonna have to answer to me.”
The tension would have been thick as a fat bitch in a Donut Shop, but this was Jett! Cashe couldn’t look at him and take anything serious. Laughter echoes in the backstage area as Cashe falls back into the wall he had been leaned up against. Jett, however, isn’t laughing; attempt of intimidation still present in his glare toward Cashe. This slowly removed the laughter and the smile on Cashe’s face drops as he squats down slightly to get to Jett’s height.
CASHE: “Listen, little man… You’re right, she does love me. I don’t understand it either but that’s the reality. I respect that you think you need to defend her honor. Heh, you’re all about “honor,” aren’t you? Let me handle that Gumbo, alright, and she’ll stay plenty happ–“

Falling back off his squat, Jason Cashe got SLAPPED by Jett Wilder! It surprised Cashe as he had to palm the ground to keep himself from falling. Snapping back his sights to Jett, the “F.A.G.” had turned and walked away. To one side of his face, Cashe smiled as he stood to his feet.
CASHE: “Will you look at that… Kid grew a set… Heh..”
Marquis comes out from the bathroom and tries to see what Cashe is staring at, but Jett had disappeared down a hallway.
MARQUIS: “What are you looking at?”
CASHE: “Nothing.”
Marquis studies Cashe for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion and suspicion.
MARQUIS: ”You sure it’s nothing? Why do you have five fingers red across your face, my kid? Are you okay?”
CASHE: “You hungry?”
Cashe knew exactly what to say to have the subject dropped, because Marquis smiles broadly at the mention of food.
MARQUIS: “Does Freedumb like Red Rockets?”
Shaking his head at her disturbed comments, Cashe and Queef head off to find some food.


POWERS: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall!”
“Me Too” by Meghan Trainor begins to blare over the sound system, and the lights dim down to a pale red hue around the arena. The booing begins almost immediately, and continues as Michael Lee Best steps through the entrance way wearing a black t-shirt over top of his ring gear– the logo on the shirt is simply white text that reads “Michael Lee Best Is My Favorite Wrestler.” He stops at the top of the stage, pointing at the shirt and grinning into the camera.
POWERS: “Making his way to the ring, from Chicago, Illinois… standing at six foot two and weighing in at two hundred forty nine pounds…”
Michael slaps himself on the chest three times, pointing out into the crowd and nodding his head as he makes his way smoothly down the ramp, reacting almost as if he’s being cheered instead of universally reviled. He reaches the ring, rolling under the ropes and onto the canvas. As he stands, he dusts off his t-shirt and makes a big deal about quickly spit shining his wrestling boots.
POWERS: “…the bastard child of God Himself… MICHAEL… LEE… BBEESSTT!!!”
Michael steps into his corner, pulling the t-shirt over his head and tossing it ringside, careful not to let any of the greedy fans get their hands on free merchandise. He stretches in his corner, limbering up his knees and shoulders as he waits for the match to begin.
The “Stranger Things” intro starts to kick over the house speakers as the fans give their initial pop when smoke begins to fill the stage.
POWERS: “And the opponent!”
As the remix to “Starboy” kicks in, Bronx slowly makes his way out on stage. Pausing in the middle of the stage, he turns sideways and points a finger gun towards the ring before he pulls the trigger and gives a loud, audible laugh before he continues down the ramp, a smug grin on his face as he slaps hands with hands on either side of the ramp.
POWERS: “Making his way to the ring from Portland, Oregon, weighing in at two hundred five pounds… He is BRONX VVAALLEESSCCEENNCCEE!!!”
When Bronx gets down to the end of the ramp, he uses one leap onto the ring apron, and then spins around, holding onto the ropes before rising his feet on the apron and walking over to his corner and using the ropes to vault into the ring. Opening his arms out to either side he spins until he bounces into the ropes and poses one time for the fans before smirking and removing his ring jacket and sunglasses, neatly placing them underneath his corner turnbuckle before leaping onto the top turnbuckle to sit.
VASSA: “Bronxy V is back folks!”
JOHNSON: “We know that, Vinny. He made his return at Adrenaline Fifty-Nine in the main event.”
VASSA: “I was hyped for his return, but the outcome just ruined my night to say the least.”
JOHNSON: “He wasn’t victorious in his return, but tonight we has a chance to turn things around with some singles competition.”
VASSA: “I thought he was rather impressive in that six man tag team match. I’ve always been a fan of the bossman’s son.”
JOHNSON: “Before his injury last year, he gained quite a bit of momentum and could have possibly won the tournament naming a contender for the 4CW Championship at South Beach Brawl.”
VASSA: “It’s unfortunate how those things happen. One moment you’re on top of the world and the next you tear the ACL in your big toe. Tragic!”
JOHNSON: “I’m pretty sure his injury was far more serious and realistic than that.”
VASSA: “It is what it is. Tonight, he makes his singles return against another man who came to 4CW with a lot of hype surrounding his name.”
JOHNSON: “Mike Best gained a lot of attention when he surfaced in 4CW. Things may have faded a bit after his most recent match which was a loss against Seth Daniels last Adrenaline.”
VASSA: “Shit happens. 4CW is an entirely different playground. Some people do big things outside of 4CW but once they cross over, the cold truth sets in that this end of the pool is quite deep.”
JOHNSON: “With both men coming off stinging losses, look for one to bounce back here tonight and get right back on the course they set for themselves in 4CW.”
After checking in and getting the okay from both corners, the official then calls for the bell.

Skipping out of his corner, Bronx hops along to the center of the ring where he stands his ground, bouncing back and forth as he points to Mike with his hand gestured as a gun. Coming to a stop with both feet on the mat, he aims the sights of his hand gun in Mike’s direction. Flicking his wrist back, he takes a shot, drawing a huge pop from the fans in attendance.
With a cocky grin on his face, Mike looks both left and right at the fans who seem to be buying into Bronx’s theatrics. He then shrugs his shoulders before pushing himself away from the corner and approaching the center of the ring. Standing toe to toe, the two stare into one another’s eyes for a short moment before Bronx breaks the stare and begins bouncing on his feet, circling Mike.
Shooting in, Bronx lunges at Mike with both arms as the two lock up in the center. Using his size to his advantage, Mike then drives Bronx backwards until the two come to a stop with Bronx’s back against the ropes. Letting up, Mike raises both hands before taking a step back. Catching Bronx off guard, Mike then steps in swinging upward, hitting Bronx in the jaw with a European uppercut.
Mike then unloads with a couple of MMA elbow strikes before locking onto Bronx’s wrist and whipping him to the far ropes. As Bronx hits the ropes and bounces off, Mike quickly races to the center of the ring where the two collide. Lifting Bronx off his feet, Mike turns a complete one-eighty while holding him up before dropping him to the canvas with a spinning spinebuster.

JOHNSON: “Mike Best has taken the ball and is running with it!”
VASSA: “Bronx is unpredictable inside of that ring. One thing I’ve learned after watching him perform, is that you need to stay on top of him at all times or he’ll turn things around when you least expect it.”
Back on his feet, Mike locks onto Bronx and drags him to the edge of the ring where he quickly spins around and presses Bronx against the ropes. Leaving Bronx with nowhere to go, Mike begins popping his knee upward, hitting Bronx in the mid-section with lifting knee strikes. After nearly a dozen knees to the gut, Mike then pulls him off of the ropes and wraps both hands around his waist. Bursting with energy and planting both feet into the canvas, Mike lifts Bronx up and over his head, tossing him with an overhead belly to belly suplex.
VASSA: “Just raw pow–“
JOHNSON: “Wait a second!”
Flipping in mid-air, Bronx quickly rotates, landing on his feet as Mike crashes against the mat. Taking off for the ropes, Bronx hits them as Mike rolls over and pushes himself up to one knee. Coming back on the rebound, Bronx levels Mike with a running knee to the face, putting him flat on his back. Balling his fists and shaking them violently, Bronx screams into the air as the fans answer his call with cheers of their own. Bronx then turns to the adjacent ropes and takes off in their direction. Coming back on the rebound yet again, this time Bronx hits him with a rolling knee, managing to roll back to his feet in a fluid motion.
Standing with his back turned to Mike, Bronx then does a backflip in the air, landing across Mike with a moonsault. Hooking Mike’s leg, Bronx goes for the quick pins as the official races over for the count.


Popping a shoulder up from the mat, Mike breaks up the count. Not wasting a single second, Bronx pushes himself up to both feet before reaching back down and locking onto Mike’s head with both hands. After pulling Mike up to his feet, the two lock up. Clearly with the size advantage, Mike uses it as he overpowers Bronx, pushing him backwards across the ring until the two collide into the official. With Bronx’s body blocking the official’s view, Mike then drives a knee upward and connects with a low blow to Bronx.
Pulling Bronx by the arm, Mike throws him to the ropes close by to their side. As Bronx comes back, Mike steps forward, kicking his foot up and planting it underneath Bronx’s chin with a superkick. Dropping to his back, Bronx holds his neck as Mike quickly pushes the official aside and drops down to make the cover. Once the official is down to make the count, Mike then places both of his feet onto the bottom rope, using it for leverage as the official swings down for the first time.


Before the officials hand slaps the canvas for the third time, he notices Mike’s feet on the bottom ropes in the corner of his eye. Furious, Mike begins screaming at the official, demanding that he count to three. Refusing to do so, the official stands to his feet and then begins returning the favor as he scolds Mike for the illegal use of the ropes.
Irritated with the official, Mike the pops up to his feet and confronts the official. The two argue back and forth, Mike trying his best to plead his case even in the wrong. Meanwhile, Bronx rolls up to a seated position before wiping his hair out of his face and looking up at the spoiled display.

VASSA: “How long do you think he’s going to argue, Steve?”
JOHNSON: “Beats me. He was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. There’s no right in that wrong, especially when the official sees it with his own two eyes.”
VASSA: “Something tells me that he thinks he’s right.”
JOHNSON: “Too bad that isn’t the case!”
Standing up to his feet, Bronx places his hands on his hips as he stands back, watching Mike still arguing his case. After a few moments pass, Bronx then extends his arm and taps Mike on the back of the shoulder. Whipping around instantly, Mike yells directly into Bronx’s face.

Bronx then hits him with a European uppercut of his own, whipping Mike’s head back as the contact is made. He then follows up with a swift kick to Mike’s stomach, forcing him to buckle over as the breath is knocked from his lungs. In desperation, Mike swings upward for Bronx’s head, missing as Bronx ducks underneath and steps in beside him. Just as Mike turns to face him, Bronx lunges forward to lock onto him. Ducking, Mike waits until Bronx’s body collides into him before standing straight up, lifting Bronx up and over the top rope. Grabbing onto the top rope, Bronx uses it to maneuver himself as he lands both feet down onto the apron.
Turning around, Mike is shocked to see Bronx on his feet across the ropes. He then lunges forward but Bronx counters as he ducks through the ropes and drives his shoulder into Mike’s stomach. Stumbling backwards, Mike finally comes to a stop feet away from the ropes, holding his mid-section. With both hands tightly holding the top rope, Bronx uses them to vault himself up into the air where he lands on the top rope with his feet. Springboarding off, Bronx flies through the air and collides into Mike with a frog splash cross body!

JOHNSON: “Bronx is just full of surprises!”
VASSA: “You can’t count him out. You MUST always keep an eye on him or he’ll make you pay for it like he did Mike right there.”
Standing to his feet and full of energy, Bronx points his hand cannon towards the corner before firing off a single shot, igniting the crowd in the process. He then races over but stops before making the climb to the top. Kneeling down, Bronx grabs his pair of sunglasses. Placing them over his eyes, he then ascends the corner, climbing to the very top before overlooking the electric crowd waiting for his next move.
Slowly turning around to face Mike who is still down and out, Bronx raises his arm once more. Extending his finger, his hand forms a gun one last time before taking his final shot.


Instantly, Bronx then hops up and spins around before landing back on the corner with his back turned to the ring. He then leaps backwards, twisting and turning through the air before landing across Mike’s body with a corkscrew moonsault.
JOHNSON: “True Light’s Flight!”
VASSA: “That was awesome! He’s back baby!”
With Mike covered, with ease Bronx hooks his leg as the official slides in with the count.

VASSA: “His tag return wasn’t all that great but this singles return to the ring was straight fire!”
JOHNSON: “He picked back up where he left off early last year. Watch out folks! He was hot before his injury.”
VASSA: “Listen to the crowd, Steve. They are loving every bit of this!”
“Stranger Things” hits the speakers as Bronx rises to his feet full of confidence. The official then raises his arm into the air as the entire arena erupts at the sight. Ripping his arm away from the official, Bronx then extends both arms, forming guns with both hands as he leans his head back, looking up to the ceiling through his sunglasses.


As the camera cuts backstage, nobody is there. The camera just stays in this spot for a few moments before it finally turns to walk away. Another set of cameras a few seconds later catch up to Bronx Valescence as he is coming back from his match with Mike Best, he has a towel thrown over his shoulders and when the cameras get to him he wipes off the sweat and then holds up his finger to catch his breath.
VALESCENCE: “Oh, shit…Yeah…Segment…Ummm..Okay…I got this.”
Quickly Bronx looks around and realizes that there wasn’t any sort of interviewer backstage around him at the moment. In a panic, he began to look around for anyone to interview him. A stage manager walked by wearing a black 4CW polo. Bronx quickly pointed to him.
The manager was at least 30 years old and was slightly balding on the top of his head, he looked at Bronx and pointed to himself.
Quickly Bronx nodded and pulled him next to him. Noticing he didn’t have a microphone anywhere, Bronx opened up one of the equipment boxes backstage and didn’t find a microphone but he found one of the 4CW boxes, nervously he laughed.
VALESCENCE: “Haha, hold on folks. Just one second, we will get this segment going! Funny right! I mean, I’m sure you guys would rather watch this than any of the other shitty segments on this show! Haha…Ha…”
Rubbing the back of his head, he finally found a broom. The stage manager stood there nervously as Bronx shoved the 4CW box onto the broomstick and made a makeshift microphone and then handed it to the stage hand. Bronx then tilted his head upwards and got into ‘character’ like an actor.
MANAGER: “Okay, what do you want me to do exactly?”
Bronx darted his eyes back down to the manager.
VALESCENCE: “I need you to ask me questions about my most recent match and what I plan on doing next and maybe something about Generation Now…Okay…So…Action!”
The camera sort of tilted and the man behind the camera spoke.
CAMERA MAN: “Bronx we’ve been running for like three minutes now on live television. This is why production told you it wasn’t smart to want to get behind a camera right after your match. ”
Bronx looked around.
VALESCENCE: “Oh…Okay, so you…I am standing here with the new backstage announcer…”
He leaned down.
VALESCENCE: “What is your name?”
The stage manager looked up at him and mumbled something.
VALESCENCE: “Okay, I am standing here with Jeff and he is now going to interview me about my match with Mike Best.”
Smiling awkwardly, he motioned for the stage manager to put the “microphone” to his lips, and the stage manager did awkwardly.
MANAGER: “Dude, I don’t know what happened. I was working.”
With a forced smile, Bronx shoved the production manager from the picture and grabbed the broom and held it up to his lips.
VALESCENCE: “Great question, yes I sure do love it here in Rhode Island. But Rhode Island is small, and you know what that reminds me of? Mike Best’s small dick. I made an example out of Mike Best and his small dick. Everyone can go around and make their Generation Now jokes, because we will continue to prove everyone and their tiny dicks wrong about what our mission statement is, and what we intend to do. I am one of the best going in this industry today, and I will continue to prove it…Week in and week out.”
Bronx tossed the broomstick down and walked away as the segment finally, thankfully cut.

As we head back to ringside the lights in the arena go pitch black, as red lasers and spotlights light up the area as the angelic voice of Lauryn Hill serenades the live crowd.

“Ready or not, here I come, you can’t hide
Gonna find you and take it slowly
Ready or not, here I come, you can’t hide
Gonna find you and make you want me”

The video screen lights up and flashes across the screen a Texas flag, with the words, “Texas Born. Texas Bred.” “Texas Forever.“ branded into the flag. The crowd reaction is mixed, but there are more cheers than boos, as “Ready or Not” by Fugees plays throughout the PA system. As the chorus begins to fade there is one final image that is displayed across the screen and that message reads in bold, capitalized letters…..SCOTT STEVENS as “Hellraiser” by Motorhead begins to play.

“Hellraiser, in the thunder and heat
Hellraiser, rock you back in your seat
Hellraiser, and I’ll make it come true
Hellraiser, I’ll put a spell on you”

The cheers intensify as the chorus hits the speakers, drawing out the man from Texas.
VASSA: “Time to cut backstage!“
JOHNSON: “Will you stop?”
VASSA: “No I will not because tonight that man is going to get his ass whooped and I’m going to enjoy every second of it.“
JOHNSON: “Tonight is a big night for that man as he not only is in the Main Event of the show as he takes on Genevie Carlson, but the man he made a statement on, as he put it, is in the building as well.”
VASSA: “Hence why I’m going to thoroughly enjoy the beating of Scott Stevens here tonight. It was nice knowing you pal.“
Stevens stares out into the crowd before climbing up the stairs and into the ring Once inside, Stevens calls for a microphone and pats it a couple of times.
STEVENS: “They say every question has an answer. Every choice has a consequence and every action has a reaction, and in the last few weeks it seems that my simple decision caused a firestorm throughout 4CW.“
Stevens says as he motions to the video screen and we are shown footage of the brutal assault on Eli Carlson at the hands of Scott Stevens.
STEVENS: “Because of that I have become a target, and people are wondering why I did it? Why would you brutalize and bloody the world champion like that? And I say to those people why not?”
Stevens says with a sinister grin on his face.
STEVENS: “Ever since I came to 4CW people have ridiculed me. They have laughed at me. They thought Perry was stupid in bringing me in because I wasn’t this dominant force that I was hyped up to be. Are you laughing now?“
Stevens asks as he looks towards the entrance ramp.
STEVENS: “You all wanted the ‘real Scott Stevens’ and now you have it. I’m not concerned about recycling things and making the world a greener place and that should concern each and everyone of you.”
Stevens says as he points to the entrance.
STEVENS: “I told you since the beginning what I am capable of but you didn’t believe me. You all just took me as another joke because I came from High Octane Wrestling.“
Stevens shakes his head.
STEVENS: “Where’s Mike Best? Where is Max Kael? Where the fuck is Darn Zion at? Because none of them are here, but I am!”
Stevens says emphatically as he points to himself.
STEVENS: “Ask Caleb Houston what happened to him when he didn’t take me seriously…oh wait, you can’t!“
Stevens says as he points to the video screen once again to show his assault on Caleb.
STEVENS: “Apparently my message hasn’t been getting through though because the attention whore herself, Genevie Carlson, is too busy boring people about her daily life and various other bullshit instead of seeing the danger that she faces here tonight.”
VASSA: “Genie is going to show this fool you don’t mess with the Royal Family.“
STEVENS: “What I did to Caleb was just the beginning. What I did to Eli was to put everyone on notice that no one is safe, and what I do to you Genie, well that’s going to be for fun.“
Stevens says with a smile.
STEVENS: “You say you’re going to kill me and put my head on the outside of the Royal Family’s locker room to use as a warning not to fuck with you.”
Stevens says shaking his head.
STEVENS: “Does it look like I’m scared Genevie because if you think that you are gravely mistaken. Maybe if you pulled your head from your ass for two seconds and quit being the Twitter whore that you have become then you would know what the fuck is going on, and what is going on is I’m going to beat the living shit out of you. You call me a coward for attacking your husband but he was looking at me face to face and eye to eye before I annihilated him in front of the world.“
Stevens says as he turns towards the stage once again.
STEVENS: “And if you think of interfering in my match again I’ll end you, do we understand one another, “champ?””
Stevens says sarcastically while using air quotes.
STEVENS: “Tonight two things will happen. The first is my impending victory, and two, is I decimate another Carlson, and I don’t need a hundred and forty characters to do it either.“
Stevens says as he drops the microphone and exits the ring.

The scene switches backstage to find Elijah Carlson lying in wait a little ways down the hallway, with his eyes set directly on the entrance to the guerilla area of the arena. Scott Stevens had just completed his in ring mic work and the champion knew that he would be coming through any time now. Narrowing his eyes, he glanced down at the watch on his wrist to check the time before glancing back up and snorting impatiently. And then, as if he had willed it that way, Scott Stevens appeared and began to head down the hallway in the opposite direction that Eli was in. Everything had come together perfectly. He was going to get his revenge right here, right now and then he would make his demands of Wallace and get the match that he wanted at the pay per view.
Before Eli could make it very far down the hallway after Stevens, however, Oswald Pinkman appeared from around the corner and placed a hand directly in Eli’s chest. Pinkman was flanked by a rather large security guard who looked like he ate people like Maddox Lucien for breakfast.

PINKMAN: ”Mister Carlson. You don’t want to do what you’re thinking about doing.”
Snorting, Eli smirked at the man before trying to push past him. Both Pinkman and the large guard he was flanked by stepped in Eli’s way and halted his progress.
E. CARLSON: ”Move, Oswald. I don’t have time for your bullshit right now.”
Over Pinkman’s shoulder, Eli watched as Stevens disappeared down the hallway and around a corner. Opportunity lost, he turned his attention and anger towards the two people who had prevented him from getting what he wanted.
PINKMAN: ”As head of Mister Wallace’s personal security team it’s my responsibility to ensure his safety first at all times, and the rest of the roster secondarily if the time allows it. I saw the warning you issued earlier, Elijah, and I’ll let that slide. Don’t make the same mistake again.”
Smirking, Eli drew himself up so that he could look down at Pinkman.
E. CARLSON: ”Where’s your boss at, Pinkman? I’d like to have a few words with him as well.”
PINKMAN: ”He’s currently unavailable to meet with members of the roster. As I’m sure you’re aware, Mister Wallace is a busy man.”
E. CARLSON: ”Heh… unavailable huh? Say, do you think you could pass a message along for me then?”
Pinkman nodded his head, feeling satisfied with the outcome that was developing from this situation.
E. CARLSON: ”Good. Here’s what I want you to tell him…”
Eli shot into action, shoving Pinkman down and connecting with a perfect kick to the jaw that dropped the large security guard like a sack of potatoes. Turning his attention from the guard back to Pinkman, Eli grabbed the head of security by the collar of his shirt and pulled him up to his feet, dragging him down the long hallway, passed the guerilla area and into the catering section that had been set up for the staff and roster members. With ease, Eli picked Pinkman up and slammed him down through one of the wooden tables that had been holding various meats and cheeses. With the head of security groaning, Eli stood above him and pointed down at him.
E. CARLSON: ”Pass that message along to him, Pinkman. That’s his second warning. He doesn’t want to see what happens when these warnings run out.”
Leaving Pinkman laying in the mess of food, Eli turns and heads back down the hallway, shoving a staff member out of his way before the scene fades back to ringside.


POWERS: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall!”
With the opening instruments of the French Montana and Kodak Black song “Lockjaw” blaring out through the arena, the lights go off and there is a momentary darkness that fills the place. As the hard hip-hop beats come in with full force and the hook plays, a lone light shines down on the center of the stage. It won’t be soon before Lauryn Wolfe emerges and stands in the light, having most of her face covered up with a handkerchief. Bouncing lightly in place, only her eyes are seen and the camera zooms in on them, capturing the hardened look of her brown eyes as she looks on.
POWERS: “From Seattle, Washington, weighing in at a hundred and twenty-seven pounds, she is “The Reckless One”, LAURYN WWOOLLFFEE!!!”
With announcement of her name, Lauryn breaks out of her intense gaze and gets hyped up, slamming the palms of her hands down to the ground and jumps as all of the lights now come back on, flashing accordingly to the beat of the song.
“It be hard to watch the cash when the bands keep droppin’
Got the big 40 on me so my pants keep fallin’
It be hard to understand me ’cause my jaw keep lockin'”

The brazen brawler has her arms outstretched and she shouts as she walks briskly down the ramp, coming close to the ring. As she draws near, Lauryn’s pace then switches as she runs and leaps, sliding underneath the bottom rope before she gets to one knee. She takes the time to look at the entire arena from that position before she gets up, scales the closest turnbuckle near her, and rips the handkerchief off of her face. A sly grin is seen on her face before she throws her head back and let’s out her signature howl; with the crowd proceeding to do so as well.
“Bite down, bite down
It be hard to understand me ’cause my jaw keep lockin'”

Lauryn hops down and crouches down in her corner and smirks, looking like a predator ready to hunt for some prey as she waits for the match to get underway.
JOHNSON: “Lauryn Wolfe looking confident here tonight, she’s got a tough challenge in front of her tonight.”
VASSA: “Viddus Morta, a guy who absolutely gives me the creeps, but I totally hopes he destroys Lauryn Wolfe here tonight… I can’t stand Generation Now members.”
JOHNSON: “Not a fan, huh?”
Viddus Morta’s music hits and the arena goes completely black. As the lyrics begin four different fire explosions keep firing in the air on each side. Viduus walks out slowly on pace with the music. The music picks up pace and Viduus echoes his signature laugh almost matching the song that is playing while throwing his hands in the air.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring next, VIDUUS MMOORRTTAA!!!”
Viduus makes his way to the ring almost floating in the way he walks and moves his shoulders in stride. Viduus slides into the ring and crawls to the middle of the ring.
VASSA: “Ugh, just annoying. So annoying.”
JOHNSON: “I’m going to take it that you’re annoyed right now Vinny?”

JOHNSON: “And here we go!”
VASSA: “Just mop the floor with her Viddus. Be as creepy as humanly possible and then add her to the list of MIA.”
The two quickly go for the lock-up in the middle of the ring, Viddus does a quick go behind move and in a flash flips Lauryn Wolfe face first into the mat with a reverse double leg takedown. He quickly gets back up to his feet and drops an elbow right across the back of Wolfe’s neck! As she tries to get back up Viddus unloads with a couple of boots across her back knocking her to the mat once again. Viddus waits for Lauryn to get back up to a vertical base before Viddus charges in and nails her across the back of the neck with a shin kick that once again drops her to the mat again.
JOHNSON: “Vicious attack here from Viddus Morta!”
VASSA: “Keeping Wolfe off of her feet, keeping the offense up. Plus, anytime Wolfe gets kicked in the head, I’m happy.”
Viddus pulls Wolfe up to her feet and lifts her up from the side quickly dropping her across his knee with a backbreaker. Viddus doesn’t’ go for a pin, but instead grabs a hold of the middle ropes as he places his foot into Wolfe’s back as he pulls up on the rope causing more pain. The referee forces the break, Viddus steps off as Wolfe tries to get back up to her feet. Viddus backs her up against the ropes and sends her across, at the same time Viddus runs to the other side ropes and springs off connecting with…

…a running spear!! The impact sends Wolfe through the middle and top ropes and onto the ring apron.
JOHNSON: “Soul Reaper from Viddus!”
VASSA: “That sent Lauryn Wolfe right through the ropes!”
JOHNSON: “No chance for a pin as a result of that impact, but it definitely did some damage to her. Like a car crash.”
VASSA: “If only we could get every member of Generation Now into a car crash.”
Viddus goes for the cover on Wolfe, the referee dives into the picture.

JOHNSON: “So very close, but Lauryn Wolfe gets the shoulder up at two and a half!”
Viddus doesn’t seem too happy as he pulls himself back up to his feet and does the same to Lauryn. Wolfe, however, fires off a right hand which connects into the midsection of Morta. She follows this up a couple of backhanded chops that rock Viddus up against the ropes. She quickly locks in a front face lock and lifts Viddus up and over…

…nailing Morta with a snap suplex. Viddus gets back up to his feet quickly, but Wolfe is right there as she grabs him by the head and arm lifting him up once again up over head connecting with an exploder suplex! Viddus hits the mat hard as Wolfe gets right back up to her feet ready to attack again.
JOHNSON: “Wolfe turning the tide here with a couple of great looking suplexes!”
VASSA: “Yes, they were good. That’s all I’m going to say. Sure, keep going.”
JOHNSON: “Vinny doesn’t feel like participating here tonight in this match it seems.”
Viddus tries getting back up to his feet and Wolfe pounces with a running single knee strike before he’s up off his knees.
“Blood in the air! Here’s the pin attempt by Wolfe!”

VASSA: “Oh thank God.”
JOHNSON: “Shoulder up at two and a half. Viddus gets the shoulder up at the last moment.”
Wolfe pulls Viddus back up to his feet and she sends him into the far side ropes with a big whip, on the rebound Viddus ducks under the elbow and on the rebound he leaps up into the air connecting with a flying forearm crushing Lauryn Wolfe across the jaw! As Viddus gets back up to his feet he hits the boot to the midsection to Wolfe before getting her in a standing headscissors. Viddus lifts her up into the air in a single motion…

…slamming her into the ground with a powerbomb!! Instead of going for a pin, Viddus wraps his legs around the arm and then locks on the rest of the crossface submission attempt!
VASSA: “Yes! Yes! Break her jaw, make sure she never talks again.”
JOHNSON: “Crossface submission there by Viddus Morta, he’s really pulling back on that hold right now.”
VASSA: “Grip it and rip it!”
JOHNSON: “Wolfe trying to get the ropes as fast as possible.”
Wolfe reaches up ready to tap but is able to reach the bottom ropes with her hand and the referee forces Viddus to break the crossface submission. Wolfe, though successful in escaping, holds her shoulder in serious pain as Viddus gets back to his feet and unloads with a couple of boots to that shoulder. Morta pulls Wolfe up to her feet by that shoulder which quickly he switches to a rare waist lock. Morta lifts her up in a deadlift manner up and over…

…connecting with a German Suplex! Lauryn takes the brunt of the impact on that same shoulder as she rolls over in pain while he gets up lying in wait for her to get back up to her feet.
JOHNSON: “Viddus with the strength and now stalking his opponent in the ring.”
VASSA: “So creepy, but I’m so happy right now. I wouldn’t want that guy stalking anyone else in the world right now.”
JOHNSON: “Wolfe’s up to her feet.”
As Wolfe gets up to her feet Viddus locks her in a reverse headlock. Morta goes to lift Wolfe up and over, but Wolfe somehow is able to flip over the back of Morta and now it is her who has her opponent in a reverse headlock. She spins him around…

…connecting with a rolling cutter!!
JOHNSON: “Fiery Impulse!”
VASSA: “Oh crap, this is not happening. Viddus had her locked and ready for an Awakening.”
JOHNSON: “Here’s the cover by Wolfe…”

VASSA: “Aw dammit, another Generation Now win.”
JOHNSON: “Lauryn Wolfe gets a big win here tonight on Adrenaline.”
French Montana and Kodak Black song “Lockjaw” blares out through the arena once again as the referee holds up Lauryn Wolfe’s arm in victory. Wolfe holds her other shoulder in some pain from the effects from the match but she seems pleased otherwise.
POWERS: “Here is your winner, LAURYN WWOOLLFFEE!!!”


POWERS: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall!”
“Monster” by Skillet plays over the sound system as Lord Raab comes out through the curtain with Henry Losak.
POWERS: “Introducing to the ring from Cologne, Germany, weighing in at two hundred fifty pounds and standing six feet, four inches tall! He is “4CW’s Green Disease Monster”, LORD RRAAAABB!!!”
Raab and Losak stand at the top of the entrance ramp, looking towards the ring. Raab then slowly proceeds towards the ring. He then high fives the fans before 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.
JOHNSON: “One of the longest reigning members of the 4CW roster and still every single time Lord Raab comes out here, I still have no idea what he’s going to do next.”
VASSA: “Very unpredictable indeed. I am told there is a betting pool with some of the staff backstage on what kind of carnage Raab is going to cause, nobody has ever gotten it correct.“
JOHNSON: “What’d you put your money on, Vinny?”
VASSA: “You don’t want to know. Really.”
The sound of a pipe organ begins to fill the arena as the crowd rises to its feet in a hail of boos. Every few seconds, the pipe organ increases up the musical scale by one note. Suddenly, as the pipe organ hits it’s dramatic note, the lights go out. Pyro then begins to envelop the stage for 10 seconds. When it subsides, the final tier of Dancing Mad is playing throughout the arena. Nine seconds in, the lights shoot back on and Matthias Barrows is standing on the stage with his arms straight back and his fists at the side of his ribs. Stacy Barrows and Gary the Assassin appear from behind the curtain a few seconds later, and the three of them slowly start to walk towards the ring.
POWERS: “Making his way to the ring, being accompanied by Stacy Barrows and Gary the Assassin; from Reno, Nevada, weighing in at two hundred forty-one pounds, ‘The King of Greens’, MATTHIAS BBAARRRROOWWSS!!!”
When they get to the bottom of the ramp, Stacy and Gary walk over to the steps. As Matthias hops up onto the ring apron, he throws his head back while hanging on the top rope and fireworks erupt above the ring as the song hits it’s somber half. Matthias then enters the ring and hopes onto the second turnbuckle. He hangs his right hand with a curled elbow and thrusts his left arm, palm-out, straight down before extending both arms out to the side, flexing his muscles.
JOHNSON: “Matthias and his entourage ready to go here.”
VASSA: “Be careful what you say, I bet he has the whole area bugged.”
JOHNSON: “What?”
VASSA: “Nevermind.”

JOHNSON: “Here we go!”
The two equally sized wrestlers make their way towards the center of the ring, Raab in his mask, Barrows with is abs. The two are slow to lock-up as they try to size up the other before moving in any close, Barrows looks for a tie-up but Raab counters with a quick series of chops across the chest. Barrows is taken back and this gives Raab an opening to unload with a series of headbutts slamming their coconuts together in the center of the ring! Raab stops when Barrows falls to his knees covering up his skull with both hands, Raab sort of seems dazed and stumbles around himself for a moment before pulling Barrows back up to his feet and in a sudden motion lifts him into the air…

…nailing him with a suplex! Barrows rolls back up to his feet and turns around just in time as Raab hooks under both of his arms and in another sudden motion lifts up Barrows…

…connecting with a double arm suplex!!
JOHNSON: “Raab not going for a pin here, rather he’s going to wait for Barrows to try and get back up to his feet here. I don’t think he’s done inflicting damage on Barrows.”
VASSA: “Knowing Raab like we do, he’s not nearly that close to damage. Nothing has been set on fire and surely not enough blood around.”
Barrows gets back up to his feet and this time the Green Diseased Monster locks him into rear waist lock, Barrows throws some elbows looking to escape and seemingly stuns the monster long enough for Matthias to charge towards the ropes and leaps into the air…

…getting nailed by an European uppercut in the process from Lord Raab! It catches Barrows cold and drops him to the mat in a heap.
JOHNSON: “Vicious uppercut there, Barrows looking to turn the tides but Raab not having any of that.”
VASSA: “It’s like taking a running leap at Freddy Kruger, seriously.”
Raab reaches down and grabs Barrows up by the throat to a standing position. Raab goes for a chokeslam, but Barrows is able to slip out of the hold and quickly counters with a roll up small package pin attempt!! The referee dives in for the count…

JOHNSON: “Great counter there by Matthias Barrows, he caught Lord Raab by surprise with that move and it nearly got him the victory.”
VASSA: “Probably the best way to get the monster Raab, by surprise. Now you’ve got his attention, so good luck with that one!”
JOHNSON: “Barrows is right back up to his feet, but so is Raab in the ring.”
In fact, Raab throws a big right hand but Barrows is able to duck under that one and allows Barrows to show off his strength as he lifts Raab up into the air on his shoulders into a torture rack position!!
JOHNSON: “Torture rack from Barrows!”
VASSA: “And what goes up…”

Barrows turns it into a neckbreaker dropping Raab in the dead center of the ring.
VASSA: “…must come down!”
JOHNSON: “Ten Seconds of Paralysis, and Barrows might be walking out of here with the victory, here’s the cover…”

JOHNSON: “NO! Two and a half, Raab got the shoulder up!”
VASSA: “Had that been eleven seconds of paralysis, then Matthias would have won this match.”
JOHNSON: “You are profound, Vinny.”
VASSA: “I know.”
Barrows waits for Raab to get back up to his feet before he runs full speed into the rebound and launches himself into the air connecting with a flying shoulder block to the German monster. Raab gets up to his feet quickly, which allows Barrows to do the same again connecting with a second shoulder block! Raab is a little slower to get back up and this time Barrows is there with a rear waist lock of his own, he goes for the German suplex, but somehow Raab is able to counter it reversing the hold. Raab then lifts up Barrows…

…slamming him to the mat with a release German suplex which folds Barrows in half in the ring! Barrows gets back to his feet in a bit of a daze and walks right into the hand of Lord Raab who quickly lifts him up into the air with one hand around his throat…

JOHNSON: “The Chokinator by Lord Raab! The monster chokeslammed Matthias Barrows in the center of the ring.”
VASSA: “Wow, I felt the ground shake from here.”
JOHNSON: “And now Raab hooks the leg of Barrows for the cover…”

VASSA: “Who would have thought a midget would have distracted a 4CW official so easily, huh? Crazy.”
JOHNSON: “The referee stops the count probably saving Matthias Barrows in the process of this match.”
Lord Raab gets up and marches over to where Gary the Assassin is sort of standing in the ropes, Gary scatters as Raab takes a swing at him diving off of the ring apron to the floor. Raab turns his attention back towards Barrows who is getting back up to his feet near the ropes, Raab charges towards the King of Greens…

…connecting with a clothesline that sends both men up and over the top ropes and onto the concrete floor below! Raab rolls onto his back, but Barrows looks as if he hit the concrete stomach first with little or no brace for impact.
JOHNSON: “Oh man! What a clothesline from Raab!”
VASSA: “Big time impact, but it took his man out of the ring. You got to keep him in the ring for the victory.”
JOHNSON: “I doubt a lot of strategy goes through the mind of Lord Raab sometimes.”
Raab is up first on the outside of the ring and he pulls Barrows up tossing him back first up against the guard railing! Then for good measure Raab grabs Barrows by the hair and tosses him face first into the corner post! Barrows crumbles to the ground once again. Raab pulls him back up and dumps him into the ring finally.
JOHNSON: “Raab doing his dirty work on the outside of the ring, now looking to finish off Barrows on the inside.”
VASSA: “He’s still going to have to find a way to neutralize the outside distractions.”
Raab pulls Barrows up to his feet like a rag doll he quickly goes to throw Barrows into the ropes, but Barrows puts on the breaks and sends Raab into the ring ropes, Barrows drops to the mat and Raab leaps over and just as he’s about to hit the far side ropes Stacy Barrows tosses the water from the bong right into the face of Raab!!
JOHNSON: “Referee didn’t see that!? Stacy Barrows throwing the bong water into the face of Raab and… and… I don’t think Raab is really affected by it. Just stopped him in his tracks for a second.”
VASSA: “Maybe it mellowed him out a little?”
JOHNSON: “Raab’s got his hand around the throat of Stacy now!! Is he going to chokeslam her!?”
But before he does anything, Matthias Barrows clobbers him from behind. Stacy slips down to the floor safely as Matthias continues to hammer away with a bunch of more shots. Raab gets trapped into a corner with the shots, but Raab fires off a couple and switches he and Barrows around! Now it’s Raab who unloads with rights and then whips Barrows across the ring, but before Barrows hits the corner turnbuckle he leaps up which causes a chasing Raab to hit the corner instead!!
JOHNSON: “Great counter there by Matthias Barrows!”
VASSA: “Showing off the leaping skills there, getting out of the way of Raab chasing you down.”
The air rushes out of Raabs lungs long enough to allow for Barrows to climb up into the corner turnbuckle as he seats Raab onto the top rope as well. In a quick motion Barrows pulls Raab up and forward…

…crashing into the mat with a sit-out powerbomb from the top ropes!!
JOHNSON: “Barrows connects with the Overdose! Here’s the cover by Barrows…”

JOHNSON: “Matthias Barrows gets the victory over Lord Raab. But it took times of outside interference to pull off the victory here tonight on Adrenaline.”
VASSA: “A win is a win, and now if I were Barrows I’d get everyone I knew out of the ring and into the next limo back to the hotel.”
JOHNSON: “I couldn’t agree more.”
Once again “Dancing Mad” by The Black Mages plays over the arena as Barrows raises his arms in victory, this doesn’t last long as he sees Raab starting to get back up to his feet and he clears the ring along with Stacy and Gary the Assassin as quickly as possible.

The sound of a lighter sparking fills the otherwise silent locker room. The cheers of the crowd can be faintly heard. Sitting the absolute wrong way in a chair, back on the seat, legs up the back, lounges the XTV Champion Sativa Nevaeh. The aforementioned title sits on a near by table. She brings a lit blunt to her lips and takes a puff, holding it in for a few moments before slowly exhaling through her nostrils. Her eyes are closed, she is obviously mentally preparing for her match. The door opens and in walks Ashe Corvin. Upon seeing Sativa he rolls his eyes.
CORVIN: ”You really should be smoking this close to a match. Especially this important of a match.”
NEVAEH: ”I usually don’t. But I know what it going to happen in this match and believe me, the physical effects are what I’m looking for. Being a little numb going into this will make it a little bit easier. Where have you been anyway?”
CORVIN: ”Had a little talk with Wallace.”
Sativa opens her eyes to glare at her trainers.
NEVAEH: ”About?”
CORVIN: “Might have to set something up. Something you actually mentioned on Twitter a little while ago.”
NEVAEH: ”Oh yeah? I mention a lot of things there. Wanna clue me in?”
CORVIN: ”Not yet, gonna play this one a close to the chest, as it were.”
Sativa nods slightly and takes another puff from her blunt. She closes her eyes again.
NEVAEH: ”So, after I defend my title tonight the group is gonna meet up at Lauren’s in Seattle for a few days.”
CORVIN: ”Ok, why you telling me?”
NEVAEH: ”Just a heads up really. I know you will want me in the gym training a shit ton. Wanted to let you know I’m gonna be out a few days.”
CORVIN: ”Fine. But as soon as you are back it’s gonna be hard and heavy. Probably two sessions a day for a while.”
NEVAEH: ”Ugh! Fine I guess. I mean I got records to break with this belt. Gonna do with it what you did with the Freedom title over in eWo.”
CORVIN: ”That would be awesome. You got a longer road ahead of you than I do. I only had like a seventy some odd day reign to beat. You got a nine month one. That is quite the challenge.”
NEVAEH: ”Yeah but I got this. After this there really isn’t many challengers. So if Have to face the same scrubs over and over again so be it. Easy fucking wins.”
Sativa sets her blunt in an ashtray and adjusts her position in the chair to a proper one. She stretches and cracks her neck.
NEVAEH: ”Well, guess I need to get ready huh? After I change into my gear could you give me a hand with the face paint?”
CORVIN: ”Sure, I’ll also show you some trick for it that I picked up over the years.”
Sativa grins as she stands up. She picks up her duffel bag and blunt. She then heads into the secluded part of the room to change.


POWERS: “Introducing first, from Manhattan, New York! She is the former Fate Champion. PERRRRRSEPHOOOONE MAAAARRRQUISS!!”
With the intro of the song out of the way, Persephone makes her way onto the stage; a large and almost condescending smile on her face as she heads down the ramp.
VASSA: “Isn’t Randall Kash due out here first? Not that I’m complaining, Queef is a beautiful peice of as–“
JOHNSON: “FROM what I was told, Randall Kash tried to get out of this match. This match and his one match deal with 4CW so we’ll see if he even shows up.”
Some men in the audience extend money toward her in an attempt to get her attention, while others even go as far as yelling their impressive occupations and positions to her. At some points she pretends to be interested before continuing on; snatching some man’s waving money and not giving him the time of the day.
Folding the cash and stuffing it into her wrestling top.

“These hoes ain’t loyal!”

She enters the ring turning to her corner with an eye roll and an almost disgusted expression. She waits in her corner for the match to start, sitting on the turnbuckle with her legs crossed; back to her patronizing smirk.
JOHNSON: “What’s her mindset right now? She sought out a match with Jason Cashe and TORE him apart both verbally and inside the ring. He pushed her away, left her and she seemed to fall apart.”
VASSA: “They both did. Jason was a shell of himself and it’s yet to be seen if he will bounce back from that.”
JOHNSON: “True. Then she raped Jason to win him back but now she is going to be facing off against the Other Kash. She has to be deep in thought at the mere look of this situation.”
VASSA: “Randall Kash is not Jason Cashe. There are not too many, if anyone who will put them two on a block of comparison because Randall just doesn’t stack up.”
Strobe lights start to flicker as fog fills the entrance. The opening riff to Metallica’s “Murder One” begins to play, roaring through the arena. Through the fog, a blonde woman with red-tipped hair walks out and poses in a black dress and a mischievous smirk on her face before Kash appears in a leather vest, a pair of black jeans and boots, his hands taped MMA-style.
POWERS: “From Calgary, Alberta, Canada… being accompanied to the ring by the Wicked Witch, Salem… he is The Man In Black… Randalllllll… Kaaaaaaash!”
Inside the ring, Marquis drops down off the corner and instantly grabs at her ankle. The referee hurries to check on her putting his back to the entrance way. Fans explode as Jason Cashe comes out from the back with a baseball bat. Randall standing at the top of the ramp smiling as the fans reign down their cheers. He thinks it’s for them and his wife Rachel is the first to see that the cheers were not for him. She yells for her husband but Jason Cashe swings.

To the outside right knee, Cashe cracks Randall with the bat in his hands. Rachel Kash screams as she tries to grab at Cashe but the “tRoUbLeD1” shoves her away. Hesitant to hit her he knew she had zero to do with this so she was sparred. Randall sprawls out turning onto his back and the two lock eyes for the first time. Anger fills Randall’s eyes as he tries to get to his feet.
VASSA: “Cashe with his best Tonya Harding impersonation!”
JOHNSON: “And look, LOOK! Marquis is in the ring keeping the Referee’s attention on her! She’s faking it!”
As Randall goes to push up, Cashe soccer kicks him right to the mouth and his head knocks back. Blood trickling from his bottom lip. In a quick motion, Randall spins away and gets up with his back to Cashe and it costs him. Cashe steps in and clunks Randall to the back of the head with a RBI type swing of the bat.
JOHNSON: “Ohhhh! Randall is out! He’s done!”
VASSA: “Do you think this has anything to do with that trash Rumble? Randall IS the person who eliminated Cashe!”
JOHNSON: “I don’t think we’re suppose to mention them on our broadcast. Expect a fine from Wallace.”
VASSA: “This is Professional Wrestling! When Jason Cashe goes and competes for the rival company and PROVES he can hang with those who dislike him? I’m going to speak about it. Fine me.”
JOHNSON: “I wouldn’t call them a rival by any means. Save the magic doctors and monopoly money for the fairytales.”
Turning and handing the bat off to a crying Rachel Kash, Jason turns his back to her. Giving her an option to put herself involved but she doesn’t. Her eyes stare down at the bat and then towards the ring. If nobody else notices, Rachel notices that Queef is now staring directly at her.
Jason Cashe reaches down and begins to drag Randall but the waist of his tights and the neck of his vest towards the ring. Reaching ringside, he struggles to get the bigger man up enough to roll him into the ring. The bump wakes Randall up some and he moves around drowsy. Grabbing the ropes for assistance, Randall slowly gets to his feet. Cashe backs away waving at the dazed Randall. Queef bounces on her feet to show the referee she was okay, shoving him aside ready to attack.

VASSA: “Oh this is nice! This is lovely!”
As Randall stumbles back and twirls around, Marquis springs into action. Running up the man enough to drive a Shinning Wizard knee into the jaw of his face.

The referee not getting to see that he was already assaulted, goes into his job description as Queef drops down and slaps on her Crossface Submission. A move that causes Jason Cashe outside the ring to turn and cringe a little at. Back in the ring, Randall Kash is barely conscience as he slaps the canvas and screams out in pain! The referee signals for the bell.
POWERS: “Here is your winner, by submission… PERSEPHONE MMAARRQQUUIISS!!!”

Clapping as he gets back to the ramp. Jason Cashe turns and politely takes his bat back from Rachel Kash. Leaving the area to allow his lovely fiancé to have her moment.
VASSA: “And with that… Marquis is the ONLY person to beat two “Cashe/Kash” in but a few months. Credit goes to her!”
JOHNSON: “I can only imagine this isn’t the last issue between Jason Cashe and Randall. The Original and the Other One. Jason has a lot on his plate, Raab, now Randall, his time in SoCal and who KNOWS when Bryan Williams will become a target again.”
VASSA: “Would you SHUT UP! This isn’t about Jason Cashe! It’s about that woman right there! The beautiful, the talented, the fucking GODDESS of 4CW! Persephone Marquis! This is HER moment!”
Not caring to celebrate, Queef leaves the ring and just heads towards the back. Rachel Kash runs off stage to go through the crowd instead of walking by Marquis in order to get to her Husband’s side.

Persephone Marquis is seen heading in her locker room after her match with the “Other” Kash. Cashe was seeing the end of Williams versus Turner but had a remote in his hand and changes the channel. The look on her face was a bit bothered.
CASHE: “What’s wrong Boog?”
MARQUIS: “He stunk! I feel so disgusting having had to grapple with him. I’m taking a shower..”
CASHE: “Haha! Alright I’ma find something of value to watch. We’ll leave when you’re out.”
She didn’t hesitate as she gathered her clothes and head into the back bathroom located in the locker room. Left to himself, Cashe was slumped in the folding chair. As soon as he heard the shower come on, he sprung into action. Jumping up out of the chair and going through her belongings. He pulled out some lube she had, why does one CARRY lube around with them is the real question. Cashe didn’t care as he grabs it and a hand towel. He had a plan and whispered it out loud to himself.
CASHE: “Rub one out now. This fifteen minute push and pump shit is chump shit. If it wasn’t so wet I’d be alright…”
The rest of the shit he was saying had come out more in a mumble. The lights in the room go out. Black everywhere but the bathroom as it’s light spilled out a little in the dark room.
CASHE: “The fuck is this shit? I don’t care. I can’t find my dick in the dark!”
Still moving around to get ready for a quick rub down. He goes frozen hearing a whisper. Repeating the same thing over and over, it grew louder with each time spoken.
“Retaliation. Retaliation. RETALIATION!”
He knew he wasn’t alone and his instinct was to get chest puffy and buck up to whatever was about to come directly.
CASHE: “Who’s there?”
Trying for the light switch it didn’t do anything. Letting the lube and hand towel drop to the floor, Cashe put up his hands ready to swing on the first shadow to move around him. Squinting his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness, even with the bathroom light spilling out some it was hard to see much. The TV had even shut off.
CASHE: “I see you…”
Focusing his sights on a figure in the darkness he takes a step towards it. That’s when the snapping blue light sparks and rushes towards him.

CASHE: “Agggghhhh!”
As he hit the floor the lights came back on. Cashe was twitching, flopping on the floor as Lord Raab stood with a Cattle Prod in his hands. Behind the mask, the “Green Disease” had a smile on his face. Again he repeats the single word he had said while hidden in the dark.
RAAB: “Re…taliation…”
Cashe was drooling on himself. The front of his shorts were wet showing he had pissed himself as well. A powerful cattle prod and it took Cashe down and kept him there. Lord Raab hit the trigger again and stared at the snapping blades of electricity it produced.
RAAB: “You shouldn’t have attacked me Jason. All of this, all that will become of this didn’t have to happen but thank you… Thank you for giving me something to be motivated in. To take you down even if it means to take myself down in the process. Let it begin..”
Stepping over Cashe sprawled out on his back. He almost looks like a chalked outline at a crime scene but he was jolting in twitches here and there. Lord Raab leaves through the door but turns and looks back at Cashe on the ground.
RAAB: “I will not be the easy target people say I am. Not for you. We know each other too well for that. I will meet you at the gates of hell and there we will cause chaos in our clash. It didn’t have to be this way Jason…”
Pulling the door closed Raab left Cashe on his own. Soon Marquis would find him. Hopefully the erection that was at a high rise would be gone by then. Knowing her she’d take advantage regardless of his state of consciousness.


POWERS: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall!”
The house lights dim to black and a video begins to play on the screen.

Philip J. Fry and Bender “Bending” Rodriquez stand at the front of an Earth Army recruitment line. They can’t stop giggling to themselves as the step up to talk the recruiter.
BENDER: ”Hello… We’re here because we, uh, love our planet.”
RECRUITER:”Sign here on the dotted line, Patriots, and I’ll give you your discount cards.”
FRY: “Just outta curiosity, we can use our discount cards to buy gum, then immediately quit the army, right?”
BENDER: “You know? Playing you all for chumps?”
RECRUITER: “Correct, there’s no obligation.”
Fry and Bender continue giggling to themselves as they sign the paper.
RECRUITER: “Unless of course, war were declared.”
The recruiter nods ominously. Suddenly, the red lighted alarm goes off behind them. A close caption underneath the alarm light reads “Asshole Alarm. Fry and Bender look around in confusion.”
FRY: “What’s that!?”
The Recruiter locks his hands in a sinister fashion.
RECRUITER: “War were declared.”
The sixth time, the gun fires and the screen shatters into a million pieces as “Tom Sawyer” by Deadsy booms through the speakers and Adrian Tanner Jr appears standingin the middle of the stage, head covered by the hood of his ring jacket. Underneath the jacket you can see a black t-shirt with #GenNope in bold white font on the middle. Red and white spotlights illuminate the stage as the music plays through the PA.
POWERS: “Introducing to the ring from Tucson, Arizona, weighing in at two hundred twenty-seven pounds and standing six feet, one inch tall! He is ‘The Arizona Assassin’… ADRIAN TANNER JJUUNNIIOORR!!!”
As 4CW’s esteemed Announcer does his job, Adrian raises both arms over his head letting them come to rest stretched out in front of him, pointing like guns at the ring. At the announcement of his name he ‘fires’ and loud fireworks explode from the stage as the crowd cheers in approval. The red spotlights make a circle through the crowd while the white spotlights pulse in tune with the music for a very dizzying effect, as the Arizona Assassin makes his way down the ramp. He walks down the ramp towards the ring, slapping hands with a few fans before he pulls the jacket off as he slides under the ropes. He mounts the nearest turnbuckle and points at the hashtag on the shirt with a smirk before pulling it off and tossing it into the crowd. Then he makes a gun motion with his left hand. He cocks the “gun”, “fires” then jumps down and begins his pre-match warmup.
VASSA: ”Interesting matchup here between two relative fan favorites.”
JOHNSON: ”Indeed, Vinny. But a few weeks back Adrian Tanner Junior expressed his displeasure with the formation of the Generation Now stable.”
VASSA: ”So it doesn’t come as any surprise to see Tanner and his NEXTWAVE movement squaring off against the leader of Generation Now, Bryan Williams.”
JOHNSON: ”Regardless of the backstory to this match, this has all of the makings of being the match of the night. I’m excited for this one, Vinny.”
“Unsung” 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. Bryan walks out from the back, head held down low and the 4CW Pride 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 Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at two hundred ten pounds and standing six feet, two inches tall! He is the 4CW Pride Champion, “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.
VASSA: ”And there he is. The Leviathan himself. Constantly underestimated and consistently proving doubters wrong.”
JOHNSON: ”He certainly did so at Winter Wasteland against three of the absolute best 4CW has to offer. Somehow, someway Bryan Williams found a way to walk out of Winter Wasteland as the Pride Champion.”
While both men go through their pre match warm ups, referee Laroy Jones checks on both men in preparation for the start of their match. Before anything can go any further, however, “Motivation” by T.I. hits over the speakers and instantly draws the attention of the two competitors in the ring to the top of the entrance ramp where Elijah Carlson emerges from the backstage area, stone cold look on his face. He’s not in ring attire, however, but still in the same jeans and t-shirt combination he had been in all night long. In fact, he pays little attention to either of the men in the ring as he makes his way to the commentary table and finds himself a chair next to fatty mcfatterson, also known as Vinny Vassa.
E. CARLSON: ”Gentlemen. How are we doing tonight?”
VASSA: ”Sure… great Eli. Just getting ready for this match between Tanner and Williams. Your thoughts?”
JOHNSON: ”Yes, please. Provide us with some thoughtful insight as to the strategy that both competitors might employ tonight.”
E. CARLSON: ”See, I could do that. Or I could talk about what I want to talk about which is the absolute travesty that is the operation of this company under the guidance of Perry Wallace. How about that?”
With both men refocused on their own match and not on the reasons that Eli might be out doing commentary, the referee signals for the bell and the match begins immediately.

Things start off at a slow pace with both Tanner and Williams trying to get a feel for how the match is going to go and what pace they’re going to work at. They continue to circle the ring opposite of one another. When one gets close the other manages to back off and slap the hand of their opponent away. Finally, they come together in the middle of the ring as Tanner holds out his right hand in the air, which Williams grasps in his left hand. For a moment they measure each other up before their free hands clasp one another and they begin trying to leverage an advantageous position.
At ringside, a man that looks very similar to NEXTWAVE manager Brandon Young appears wearing a t-shirt similar to the one Tanner wore to the ring that reads “#GenNope.” He happens to catch Williams eye which gives Tanner the half moment he needs to gain an advantage and twist the stalemate into a side headlock. He wrenches on it for a few moments before Williams backs up into the ropes, using them as leverage to shove Tanner off of him. Tanner takes off at full speed across the ring, rebounds off the ropes and is taken down by an arm drag that Williams transitions into an arm lock. He manages to keep the hold applied for half a moment before Tanner kicks his legs up and wraps them around Williams head, pulling Williams down to the mat and wrenching in a modified choke hold. That remains in place for just as little time as Williams kips up to a standing position, followed by Tanner spinning up to his feet a half second later. As the two stare each other down, the crowd gives both men a round of applause for the quick pace of the early action.

VASSA: ”I swear that’s Brandon Young at ringside, isn’t it?”
JOHNSON: ”Sure looks like him, wearing a hashtag Gen Nope t-shirt. I can only imagine what kind of distraction he’s going to try and employ. Ohhh.. there it is.”
E. CARLSON: ”Fun fact, I coined the phrase Generation Nope before Tanner did. Don’t believe me? Go back and roll the footage of our promotional work from that week. You shouldn’t be surprised. Everything good about this company is a byproduct of me or something I’ve done.”
The two superstars collide in the middle if the ring, exchanging blows back and forth until the Pride champion gains the advantage again, backing Tanner up before whipping him across the ring. On the rebound Williams catches Tanner and attempts a belly to belly suplex near the ropes. Tanner goes sailing over the top rope but somehow manages to grab hold of it and catch himself on the ring apron, causing the crowd to “ooooooo” approvingly. He stands there briefly and allows Williams to step towards him, thrusting his foot upward trying to connect with a superkick to Tanners jaw.
Deftly, Tanner avoids the strike by dropping down to the floor, grabbing onto Williams foot and pulling it down with him, jamming it against the top rope. When Tanner releases Williams foot the rope snaps back and awkardly sends Williams tumbling to the ground. Quickly, Tanner hops up onto the ring apron and then leaps, springboarding off the top rope into a double foot stomp onto the right leg, the same leg that had been jammed against the top rope, causing Williams to howl out in pain. Sensing weakness, Tanner locks in a side leg lock on the Pride champion’s right leg and wrenches it viciously. At that moment the voice of Brandon Young can be heard starting a chant that some of the fans in attendance pick up on. Others boo the chant but it still begins to be heard clearly.


E. CARLSON: ”Yes, yes. Idiot fans. Nobody cares about Generation Now. Nobody cares about Tanner either. Shut the hell up.”
VASSA: ”Well some people might disagree with that. We’ve got some fast paced action going on right now and I think a lot of 4CW fans like that.”
JOHNSON: ”What are you doing out here anyway? Did you just come out to piss and moan?”
E. CARLSON: ”I came out here so that the fans at home can know that their champion will not stand for the sort of disrespect that both Scott Stevens and Perry Wallace have paid to me lately. I warned him earlier on that I would bring this shit to a stand still and I’m giving him every opportunity to make things right.”
Williams manages to get to the ropes, forcing a break of the leg lock that Tanner was applying but damage had been done as was evident by Williams scooting away holding onto his right knee before pulling himself up to his feet. Tanner charges but Williams ducks down, pulling the top rope down and sending Tanner spilling to the outside and crashing into the barricade. It’s exactly the moment that Williams needs to catch his breath and stretch his leg out. He paces around the ring trying to get the blood circulating and the feeling back while Tanner groans and holds his back in pain, trying to recover from the sudden shock of the impact with the security barricade.

A portion of the crowd, clearly those who supported Generation Now and, more specifically, Bryan Williams, had started a chant alternating with with one that had been started by Brandon Young at ringside. Williams nods his head as he circles to the far side of the ring opposite of where Tanner is laying outside against the security barrier. Finally, testing his knee once more before doing so, Williams takes off at full speed and launches himself into the air, over the top rope in a suicide dive intended for Adrian Tanner Junior. At the absolute last moment Tanner somehow manages to roll out of the way. Williams crashes violently into the barrier as Tanner pulls himself up to his feet. The Arizona Assassin quickly slides into the ring, takes off at a sprint and rebounds off the ropes and then leaps into the air, mimicking the suicide dive that Williams had just attempted only he successfully lands it, crashing down wickedly into the Pride Champions body. Both men lay there motionless as the crowd loses its mind.

With both men down and out outside the ring, the referee has little choice but to start counting them both out.
“One! … Two! … Three!”

Tanner is the first to start to move, getting himself into an upright position sitting down outside of the ring. He rolls over onto his hands and knees just as Williams rolls over, his one hand clinging to the top of the barricade which he uses to begin to pull himself upward. The fans begin to get anxious, not wanting to see the match end in any sort of a count out and so they start chanting for both men again.

“Four! … Five! … Six!”

Tanner fights back to his feet first just a half moment before Williams manages to get to his feet. The crowd goes crazy as both men begin to exchange strikes again. Williams is showing a bit of wear and tear, not putting the full weight of his body into his punches as his right knee continues to bother him from the earlier assault on it by Tanner. However, every time Tanner swings and puts any weight into his strike he clutches at his back in pain. Williams swings again and Tanner manages to avoid it and counter with a swift inside kick to Williams right knee before standing him up straight with a knife edged chop.
“Seven! … Eight! … Nine!”

Tanner grabs onto Williams arm and attempts to whip him straight into the steel turnbuckle post but at the last second Williams hold on and reverses it, sending Tanner face first into the steel post. A resounding CLANG echoes throughout the arena as Williams hears the referee hit his nine count. Quickly he grabs Tanner by the back of his shorts and rolls him into the ring, hobbling and sliding himself into the ring in just the knick of time. Laroy Jones waves off the count signalling that the match was to continue as both men take a moment to catch their breath and find a way back to their feet.
Williams is up first and he notices that Tanner, once he is up on his feet, is a bit wobbly likely from running head first into the steel post. The Pride champion lowers his shoulder and charges at Tanner, driving him back into the nearby corner. Once there, Williams grabs hold of the middle rope on either side of Tanner and begins to deliver battering ram blow after battering ram blow as the crowd counts along.


For effect, between the ninth and tenth blow, Williams stood up and turned his back to Tanner, holding up the Too Sweet sign before turning back to Tanner and lowering his shoulder, delivering the final battering ram blow. Finally feeling momentum on his side, Williams pulls Tanner out of the corner and hooks his head under his arm. The crowd can sense what’s coming as Williams looks to put a substantially more physical than expect fight away as soon as possible. He looks to lift Tanner up into the air in position for the CTE but Tanner counters, spinning out of Williams grasp. Quickly, Tanner grabs Williams like he’s going for a suplex but hooks the other leg and lifts Williams up into the air. It’s GONE BABY GONE but Tanner modifies it, dropping Williams headfirst down onto his knee! It looks like it’s lights out for the Leviathan as Tanner drops and hooks the leg, winking at the crowd as he does so.

E. CARLSON: ”Alright, I’ll give Tanner that one. That was nice.”
VASSA: ”How in the WORLD did Bryan Williams just kick out of that?!”
JOHNSON: ”Unbelievable! I can’t believe what I’m witnessing. Bryan Williams has the heart of a champion. What else can Tanner possibly do to put him away.”
Tanner, looking at the referee in disbelief, pleads his case for a three count but is denied. Not allowing it to cost him too much time, Tanner is immediately back to his feet and as he does so he pulls Williams up as well. The entire world can feel it coming for once. Tanner has Williams in perfect position for The Revolver and merely waits for the man to steady himself. Tanner moves towards Williams as soon as the Leviathan has his feet under him but somehow Williams ducks under. As Tanner turns, shocked, he’s caught by a spinning backfist RAGING DEMON! The spinning backfist is followed up by a bicycle knee that, on landing, causes Williams pain as Tanner drops to the mat. Holding his knee in pain, Williams crawls towards Tanner, looking for the pinfall until he notices movement coming down the entrance ramp.
E. CARLSON: ”Oh for Christ’s sake what does this faggot want?”
VASSA: ”That’s Matthias Barrows!”
JOHNSON: ”Bryan Williams had words for him a little earlier in the evening. And now it looks like Barrows is coming to assert himself in a match he doesn’t belong. Get him out of here!”
Williams sees Barrows coming down the ramp and manages to push himself back up to his feet, pointing and shouting at the man to go back where he came from. The crowd can sense something nefarious brewing and begins showering Barrows with boo’s. When he reaches the very bottom of the entrance ramp, Williams leans against the rope and shouts at him some more. Barrows mockingly swings at him before being waved off by Williams who returns his attention to his opponent, Adrian Tanner Junior.

VASSA: ”Matthias Barrows provided the distraction and gave Tanner all the time he needed to recover and snap off that one move that can put an end to any match in the blink of an eye.”
JOHNSON: ”I’m at a loss for words, Vinny. I’m at an absolute loss for words.”
Indeed, as Williams turned around he walked right into Tanner’s finishing maneuver. Quick to roll him over, Tanner hooks the leg with one arm and with his other hand he counts in the air along with the referee who slides in to count the pinfall as Matthias Barrows backs up the entrance ramp with a smirk on his face having accomplished his mission.

As referee Laroy Jones signals for the bell, Adrian Tanner Junior sighs a huge sigh of relief, sitting up and shaking his head clear of the haze that had begun to form. As he rolls over and stands, the referee raises his arm in the air as the winner while Mike Powers announces the result. The whole time, Tanner stared directly up the ramp at Barrows until he disappeared behind the curtain into the backstage area.
POWERS: ”Here is your winner by pinfall… The Arizona Assassin…. ADRIAN… TANNER… JUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNIOOOOORRRRRRRRRR”
The scene continues to show Tanner celebrating while Williams recovers and eventually heads back up the ramp to the backstage area where. Tanner, a few moments after Williams had disappeared into the back, followed suit, exiting the ring and heading up the ramp as the fans cheered and applauded his victory. Once he disappeared through the curtain as well the camera’s focused on the commentary team, temporarily including Elijah Carlson.
JOHNSON: ”An unfortunate end for Bryan Williams, especially with the unnecessary appearance of Matthias Barrows, but what an absolutely stellar match between those two if I do say so myself.”
E. CARLSON: ”Was it Steve? Was it really stellar? Was it fantastic? Was it amazing? Do you know what would be really amazing you antique pile of cr-”
The sound of a headset tumbling down to the desk reverberates throughout the broadcast as Eli stands up and pulls Steve Johnson up to his feet. Roughly, Eli shoves the elderly man causing him to stumble back over his chair and nearly fall down, catching himself before he could. Of course, Steve is no stranger to this sort of attack, having been attacked and incapacitated in 2016 as well and so he’s not one to back down, standing and straightening himself to look Eli square in the eyes before receiving a backhanded slap across the face from the champion before being drug towards the ring.
VASSA: ”Oh boy. Ladies and gentlemen this is bad. Don’t do it Eli!
Eli rolls the older man into the ring and then immediately searches under the ring and finds what he’s looking for. A steel chair. He then slides the steel chair into the ring and rolls himself in as well, standing quickly and placing his foot on Steve Johnson’s back, holding him down as he signals for a microphone which is quickly slid into the ring for him to use.
E. CARLSON: ”Wallace I swear to God if you don’t bring your big, dumb ass out to this ring right now I’m going to put your commentary team into retirement. This old bastard first and then the fat fuck that’s still over there.”
He stares impatiently up the entrance ramp, waiting for a few moments before shrugging and delivering two quick kicks to the ribcage of Steve Johnson.
Again Eli waits and nothing happens. An irritated smirk crosses his lips before he picks the chair up off the ground and levels it at the commentators head, calling his shot like he was Babe Ruth. He glances one more time up the entrance ramp, giving Wallace one last chance, before stepping back a few steps and lining up his shot once more. Eli quickens his pace, moving quickly towards the commentator who was laying half on his stomach, clutching his side where he had just been kicked.
WALLACE: “Now hold on a damn minute!”
A voice echoes throughout the arena, grabbing Eli’s attention and bringing his swing to a dead stop. Storming out from the back, Perry Wallace finally makes his appearance, his eyes locked on Eli in the ring and anger building within them. Not losing a single step in his stride, Perry marches down the aisle and towards the ring, ignoring everything around him with his sights set on what’s ahead.
Once at ringside, Perry comes to a stop before placing his hands onto his hips. Shaking his head back and forth in frustration, Perry mouths off a few words to Eli, not picked up by the microphone in his hand. Turning to the corner, he wastes no time as he darts up the ringside steps and stands upon the apron. Keeping his eyes locked on Eli, unsure of what he may do next, Perry cautiously steps through the ropes.
Slowly stepping forward, Perry keeps his guard up as he approaches the two. Stepping in beside Johnson, Perry kneels down for a moment to check on him before quickly turning his attention back to Eli and bursting up to his feet. With the mic in hand, it trembles slightly as the anger fully sets in with Perry. Pointing down to Johnson with his free hand, Perry raises the mic to his mouth before breaking the deafening tones of the crowd looking on.

WALLACE: “Eli, what’s the meaning of this, son? You come out here and put hands on MY employee who just so happens to be a very close friend of mine. What gives?”
Eli’s eyes light up, shocked that Perry would even feel the need to ask him such a question. For a few moments Eli paces back and forth, and after setting the steel chair down he uses his free hand to wipe at his mouth while shaking his head in disbelief. Finally he stops and points directly at his boss and “father in law.”
E. CARLSON: ”What gives? WHAT GIVES?! You and all your chins can sit there and play dumb all you want. I’ve watched you do it time and time again with others and get away with it but not with me! You know what I want. You know what I deserve. And you’re going to give it to me.”
Sneering, Eli looks down at Steve Johnson and delivers another kick to his side, causing Perry to step over the man protectively and shout at Eli.
E. CARLSON: ”You want to talk about employees and friendships?! What about our friendship, Perry, hmm? Where were you two weeks ago when Scott Stevens deliberately, and unprovoked, laid hands on me. When he hit me with steel chair and caused me to bleed? WHERE WERE YOU THEN, PERRY?! You were nowhere. You didn’t come waddling your fat ass down the ramp to make a statement about employees and friendships then, did you? No. No no. You sat in the back and you did NOTHING!”
Running a hand through his hair, Eli stares directly into the eyes of Perry Wallace. The crowd, not knowing what to make of what is unfolding before their very eyes, is cheering, booing and screaming their heads off.
E. CARLSON: ”I’ve given you three weeks to make this right. THREE WEEKS! And not a goddamn word has come out of your mouth about this attack. You didn’t reprimand him. You didn’t suspend him. YOU DID NOTHING to put that walking trashcan back into his place. You didn’t see this as a problem to solve on behalf of a friend. You saw it as a way to sell more tickets and line your pockets at my expense. So here’s what you’re going to do to repay me since you’ve taken your sweet time. You’re going to give me Scott Stevens in whatever kind of match I want at whatever the hell you name the next pay-per-view. And if you don’t I’m going to send this old horse to the glue factory and then, I’m going to walk over there, drag Vassa’s fat ass down to this ring and make him wish he was staring eye to eye with Bob Fisher and Dakota all over again.”
Taking a moment to think over Eli’s request, Perry looks on for a short bit before stepping away from Johnson’s side. Approaching Eli with caution, Perry keeps him straight forward in his sights. With the mic in hand, Perry turns to the crowd, looking over the entire arena before slowly turning his attention back to Eli, looking him dead in the eyes.
WALLACE: “You have some nerve coming out here and making demands like this, threatening 4CW employees that have no business getting hands laid on them. You want to point fingers at me? You had three others out there with you but you want to point the finger at me? Okay.”
Taking a few deep, slow breaths, Perry looks back to Johnson who is now only beginning to barely push himself up. He then cuts his eyes back to Eli.
WALLACE: “You’re the 4CW Champion now. You didn’t think you were going to be untouched and safe with that championship secured around your waist, did you? I get it, you’re angry. You have every right to be, but don’t point the finger at me and use me as someone to blame. You’re at the top of the mountain now, whether it was Stevens or anyone else in the back, you should have seen this coming!”
Taking a step back, Perry rubs his goatee gently, thinking to himself for a split second before stepping forward once more, closing the distance between him and Eli.
WALLACE: “You want your chance to retaliate? You want Stevens in the ring? It’s going to cost you. You already paid in blood, but like you said, I’m just here to put on a show and line my pockets. Your words, not mine! I’ll book the match, but it’s going to be for the 4CW Championship!”
And with that, the crowd ignites as our first official match for the upcoming pay-per-view has been announced.
WALLACE: “I was going to wait until after tonight’s show to reveal what this pay-per-view would be, but it seems that I have no other choice than to do that now. You’re the top dog in 4CW now, everyone is gunning for you. We witnessed that three weeks ago. You want to put this to rest? You want to lay down the man that drew blood from you last Adrenaline? You got it. I’ll book a one on one match between you two for the 4CW Championship, the likes of which you’ve never experienced!”
Eli nods his head slowly, backing away and kneeling to pick up the steel chair that he had dropped moments earlier. A slow smile crept across his face as he pushed himself back up to a fully standing position, microphone raised to his lips once more.
E. CARLSON: ”Good Perry, good. You’re right. I paid in blood but the thing that you seem to have forgotten is that I always… ALWAYS… collect on debts that are owed to me.”
There was little that Wallace or anyone else could to do stop what came next as Eli tossed his microphone at Perry and then turned and stepped towards Steve Johnson, blasting him square across the face with the chair in a shot very similar to the one that Scott Stevens had leveled Eli with on the previous Adrenaline. As Johnson fell, Eli delivered two more blows with the chair before tossing it down to the ground and turning to stare at Perry, his arms extended outward challenging his boss to do something. No longer was the crowd unsure of what to do. Steve Johnson was an innocent victim and the crowd’s angry boo’s reflected their displeasure with what had just unfolded before their very eyes.
Perry yells into the microphone as he turns his attention to Johnson laid out and unconscious in the center of the ring. Growing red in the face, he then shoots his eyes in Eli’s direction as the microphone quickly approaches his lips.
WALLACE: “Are you fucking kidding me?! No wonder Genie kicked you to the curb, you ungrateful piece of shit! You want Stevens?! You fucking got it! Come March first, you’ll get exactly what you want! No Royal Family to watch over your back. No outside interference to sweep in and save the night for you like your last match. At All or Nothing, you WILL defend the 4CW Championship against Scott Stevens in a Caged Ladder Match!”
Pacing the ring furiously, Perry waves towards the entrance, signaling for a team of security to burst through the entrance way and storm down to ringside. Turning his attention back to Eli from across the ring, Perry locks his eyes on him with only Johnson between them, still out cold.
WALLACE: “And if you EVER decide to come at me like this again, attacking event staff just to get your point across, I’ll make damn sure that you don’t make it to All or Nothing with the 4CW Championship. Now get him the fuck out of my sight!”
Smiling sarcastically in Perry’s direction, Eli laughs as the security guards enter the ring before his smile fades and he stares daggers through Eli. Cautiously the guards approach him and take hold of his arms. Before being turned away from Perry, Eli spits at his shoes as the guards turn him completely and escort him out through the ropes. In the ring, Perry kneels down beside Steve Johnson to check on him as a medical team begins to make its way down the ramp. As they do so they pass by the mass of security guards escorting Eli up the ramp and to the backstage area. As the scene begins to cut backstage the last shot is of the medical team climbing into the ring and beginning to check on the fallen commentator.

The fans in the arena light up as they see “Handsome” Tony Chu himself on the big screen, behind him is Dare Clemmens. Dare’s changed into his street clothes and looks fairly in different as he flanks Tony Chu. Tony smiles wide for the camera.
CHU: “Oh my god, how long has it been? Months? Not years, but it must have felt like it, am I right? I told you, I shall return, like Douglas MacArthur told the troops in the Philippines right before they were massac#b3995d. Only, here I am, and you’re all healthy and ready to pick up right where we left off. What’s changed? Hmmm. So much has changed. The incomparable Eli Carlson is now the 4CW Champion. Bryan Williams holds the Pride Championship, The Goddess of Ganja, Sativa Nevaeh holds the XTV Championship, and lest we not forget the beautiful Tara Davidson holds the Fate Championship. Congratulations are in order to all of these champions. Literally every single championship with the exception of the Tag Team Championships have changed hands since I’ve been away.”
“Handsome” Tony nods and smirks.
CHU: “As you may already know, I represent not only Dare Clemmens here, but I also represent Persephone Marquis. Both have seen some hurdles thrown at them, but both are also willing to learn and shape themselves into the very best this profession has to offer. I am here to nurture that and also ensure that the fans of Four Corners Wrestling are witnesses to the finest in sports entertainment. This is why I am happy to hint at something coming very soon. Of course I am not at liberty to divulge what is coming, but I promise you that it will change how you look at this promotion and the talented wrestlers you have come to know by name. It will also increase merchandise sales.”
Tony’s smirk shifts and becomes a firm look of concern.
CHU: “Don’t think for a moment that I am not considering all the very important and relevant things currently going on in Four Corners Wrestling. I have been watching Gen Now since its onset and I am very excited to see what develops. Who here isn’t a fan of Bronx Valescence and Bryan Williams? Honestly. The two of them represent the very best this sport has to offer and have set the standard very high. It is now up to my clients to venture forward and prove they can ‘hang’ with this Gen Now. Perhaps by being “Gen Next” yet that has been done time and time again, hasn’t it? Furthermore, we cannot turn a blind eye to Eli Carlson and Genevie. I remember a time when they were still just getting to know each other and i assisted them with some couples counseling. It went terribly. In fact, I am pretty certain that I did much more damage than I did any good. I am slightly embarrassed for the role I played in that. Look at them now, though. They’re once again broken up and fighting and getting the fans excited for the next supershow or Adrenaline where they will undoubtedly get back together and ‘shock the world’ for the fourth of fifth time. Amazing.”
Tony’s teeth shine again as he smiles and lets out another chuckle.
CHU: “Honestly, I could plead Dare’s case, but he’s just getting going in this profession so we’re not too worried about him. Plus he has this thing going on with God and Jesus and the Bible so he’s all set up regardless of what happens. Yes. That’s right. My client Dare is like one of those obnoxious and constantly optimistic young Rookie Quarterbacks. No, not like Johnny Football–one who actually ends up starting for his team, not selling selfies outside the arena for crack money. I want to talk about Persephone Marquis for a moment. Now, I know she certainly does not need my help in anything she does, but she still accepts it and asks for my guidance. I could gloat and say that she is the result of my hard work, but she certainly is not. She is the result of years of learning and evolving. I mentioned earlier that Bronx and Bryan represent the very best in this sport, but they are not like Persephone. Persephone Marquis is the very apex of this profession and it’s time that Four Corners Wrestling began to accept that fact.”
Behind Tony, Dare nods in approval.
CHU: “Soon all of Four Corners Wrestling will accept this fact in a resounding manner. The Davidsons, Eli and Genevie, Gen Now, and all the other members of the roster will come face to face with something they are simply unprepa#b3995d for. It’s started already. It’s right under your nose and you just can’t see it. Look hard and you’ll find it. When the time is right, it will be revealed, and I promise each and every one of you that it will change your lives and of course…Improve merchandise sales.”
“Handsome” Tony laughs again and his eyes twinkle. He’s somehow become the most beautiful man on the planet, even if for just one moment.
CHU: “In closing, I wish you all a fantastic evening and look forward to seeing you all again at the next episode of Adrenaline. I promise you, it will only get more exciting from here.”
With that said, the camera feed cuts out.



POWERS: ”The following contest is a extreme rules contest scheduled for one fall and it is for the 4CW XTV Championship!”
The lights within the arena go pitch-black.
“Welcome to my beautiful creation.
where the carcasses of children suspend
This is my slaughterhouse of sadistic faith;
the divine cathedral of fetal skin.”

The sickening grinds of “Pelt of Innocent Flesh” start to roar throughout the arena. In a single spotlight hits the center of the stage. The spotlight remains empty for a few moments before Bob Fisher limps his way into the spotlight, his head cranked to one side as he gives an almost dumbfounded look at the audience. Bob stands there, looking around the arena – anger slowly growing on his face as the fans begin to boo. Its at this time that Dybbuk steps into the spotlight directly behind bob. Dybbuk’s mask is emotionless only his eyes showing. Bob looks back at Dybbuk waiting for his master to move forward. After a few seconds the pair start to make their way down the ramp – the spotlight following them as walk forward.
POWERS: ”Introducing first… the challenger… accompanied to the ring by Bob Fisher and hailing from Parts Unknown.. He weighs in at two hundred and thirty two pounds and stands six feet two inches tall.. He is…. DYYYYYYBBBBBBUUUUUUKKKKKKKK!!!!!!”
“The hooks slip through their soft, supple heads.
One by one I grab them from the heap.
Flayed ’til they’re skinless, lifeless, lubricated.
The echo of their screams sing like a gospel melody.

Bob reaches the ring first and exits the spot-light, vanishing into the shadows. Dybbuk stands in front of the ring for a few moments just surveying the darkness before he climbs up on the ring apron. Dybbuk then climbs up to the second rope and stands there, intimidating all who see him. Stepping over the top rope dybbuk’s feet hit the mat with a loud crash. It’s at this time the lights come back on in the arena – revealing Bob to already be in the ring. Bob gets a demented grin on his face as Dybbuk walks over to him. He points for Bob to leave the ring, which Mr. Fisher does with haste. Dybbuk then slowly stalks his way over to his corner and waits for the match to begin.
VASSA: ”Ladies and gentlemen, we have what is sure to be a wonderful contest coming up but at the moment our thoughts and prayers are with Steve Johnson who suffered a brutal attack at the hands of Elijah Carlson just moments ago. We’ll do our best to bring you the highest quality of commentary but I ask that you bear with myself and our production team as we just… well we’re just a bit distracted.”
The lights start to strobe between blue and red as ”Fucking in the Bushes” by Oasis kicks up. Sativa walks out from the back with her handy baseball bat draped across her shoulders and the 4CW XTV Championship strapped around her torso and over her shoulder, bandolier style. She sidesteps across the stage playing to the fans and having them boo her in return.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring, hailing from Los Angeles, California, Standing five feet seven inches tall and weighing in at one hundred and twenty-five pounds, she is the REIGNING 4CW XTV Champion, the Deranged Duchess of Wrestling, SAAAAATIIIIVVVVAAAAA NEEEEEVAAAAAEEEEEEHHHH!!!!”
Sativa is followed by Eric Lee. The pair makes their way to the ring amid the boos and jeers from the crowd. Sativa skips carefree, smiling the entire way. One fan, leaning over the guardrail, starts jeering at her, trying to get in her face. She pauses for a moment and tilts her head to the side, staring at the fan. She then bursts into laughter in their face and continues to the ring.
She tosses the XTV Championship into the ring and then climbs up onto the apron, kneeling in front of the ropes, the bat resting on her outer shoulder. She looks out around the crowd before seductively laying down and rolling into the ring. She pops up to her feet and skips around the ring ignoring the XTV Championship, pointing out into the crowd and laughing occasionally.

VASSA: ”I don’t think there’s any two people I would want to be less than I want to be Sativa and Dybbuk right now. Except maybe my partner Steve.”
Both the champion and the challenger stare directly at each other. Neither flinches. Behind him, standing in his corner, Bob Fisher laughs maniacally and points at Sativa, slashing his thumb across his throat. In response, Sativa mocks Fisher’s throat slashing movement and then bounces her hand up and down like she’s tossing a head up and down. With her other hand she retrieves her bat from her back and then makes one giant tossing motion, watching before swinging her bat and mimicking a home run celebration before slipping her bat back over her back and giving Fisher the middle finger, cackling happily as she did so.
VASSA: ”Oh boy…”
Dybbuk seethes, staring at Sativa who, with mock innocence, waves at him as the referee signals for the bell and the start of the match.

The champ and challenger come to the center of the ring together. As Sativa makes her way there she pulls her bat back out and, a few steps out of Dybbuks reach, tosses it at him before leaping in his direction. Surprised, Dybbuk catches the bat and is caught off guard by the smaller woman leaping at him, her fingers finding their mark, gouging into the eyeholes of the mask that Dybbuk was wearing. Howling in pain, Dybbuk flails, letting go of the bat which Sativa quickly retrieves and drives viciously into the ribcage of the big man causing him to double over. She’s quick to follow up her first strike by driving the bat directly down into the back of Dybbuks skull, flattening him on the mat. As Dybbuk lays face down, Sativa happily skips around him before dropping a knee to his rib cage.
VASSA: ”They say violence breeds violence and although Sativa has the hand early on I can only imagine that this is going to get much… much worse.”
As Sativa continues to work on Dybbuk, Fisher begins to untie the bottom turnbuckle pad. He shouts a few commands in his clients direction before slipping the pad off of the bottom turnbuckle. As he does so, Dybbuk suddenly pushes himself directly back up to his feet from his stomach. A bit startled, Sativa cocks her head curiously at him, not expecting him to have gotten back up so quickly. Thinking that she had everything under control, Sativa swings with her bat once more but Dybbuk catches it with his left hand and uses it to jerk her in is direction. As he does so he viciously slams his head forward, catching her square across the bridge of her nose, a sickening CRACK sound reverberating on connection.
She stumbles backward, shocked at the sudden rush of pain and the blood that was beginning to flow from a nose that had undoubtedly been broken. In his anger, Dybbuk grabs hold of Sativa and whips her downward, face first, towards the exposed turnbuckle. While she doesn’t catch it flush she does hit it awkwardly, causing her to yelp in pain. The big man is relentless though and before Sativa can push herself back up to her hands and knees and then to a standing position, Dybbuk comes from behind her and stomps her face directly down into the exposed turnbuckle. Gleefully, Bob Fisher cackles at ringside while the audience in attendance winces and groans.

VASSA: ”Ugh… I think I’m going to be sick. I can’t watch this anymore.”
Dybbuk drops to his back and rolls to the outside of the ring as blood drips down onto the mat just below where Sativa’s face was resting. From the outside of the ring, Dybbuk grabs Sativa by the arms and drags her toward the turnbuckle post. With her arms on either side of it and her head beside it, Dybbuk grabs a hold of her hair and begins to repeatedly smash her face off of the steel turnbuckle post. After five blows, Fisher pulls Dybbuk off of Sativa and points to the commentary table where Vinny Vassa is seated by himself. Nodding his head, Dybbuk once more grabs Sativa by her hair, this time pulling her out of the ring. He drags her along toward the commentary table by her hair as Eric Lee charges at Bob Fisher but is cut off by Dybbuk before he can do anything.
Fisher laughs in the face of the man while Dybbuk rolls Sativa up onto the table as Vassa slides himself out of harms way. Fisher then turns and catches Vinny’s eye and smiles sadistically at one of the few people who knows the reality of the person behind the mask. As Dybbuk climbs up onto the table, he points at Vassa before bending down to pull Sativa up. As he does so, Sativa grabs hold of one of the small monitors that was set into the table and cracks Dybbuk across the face with it.
Her face a mask of crimson, Sativa stands up and stares at Dybbuk who has been stumbled and knocked back by being smacked in the face with a television monitor. Sensing an opportunity, Sativa drops down off of the table and grabs a long cable that ran from somewhere she couldn’t see and ended somewhere she couldn’t see. What she did know was that it was long enough for her use as she wrapped it around both of her hands a few times before leaping in Dybbuks direction, hooking the cord over his head and tightening it down on his throat, cutting off the flow of air to his lungs instantly. Clawing at his throat, Dybbuk fights for any bit of air he can by loosening the cord at all. With no other choice, and Sativa hanging off his back, Dybbuk backs up swiftly and sandwiches her between himself and the barricade, causing Sativa’s grip to go slack on the cord for a second and giving him the time he needed to pull the cord loose enough to get some air into his lungs.

VASSA: ”This is all out carnage already. Someone needs to stop these two before they kill each other!”
From the timekeepers table, Eric Lee retrieves the XTV championship while Sativa blasts clubbing blows to the back of Dybbuks head. Stumbling forward, Dybbuk continues to claw at the cord that had been wrapped around his neck more than once, pulling it off of his head. Lee tosses the XTV title to Sativa who then blasts Dybbuk across the back of the head with it, sending the man stumbling to the ground. Angrily, she steps towards Fisher who backs away before Sativa turns her attention back to Dybbuk. Once more she takes the cord and wraps it around his neck. This time she takes the added length of it and uses it as a leash, leading him away from the ring and up the entrance ramp on his hands and knees. Every time he tries to get up to his feet, Sativa jerks on the cord, tightening it down around his throat and causing him to stumble forward face first.
At the top of the entrance ramp, Sativa drags Dybbuk towards her and drives her thumbs directly into his eyes once more. She then pulls her thumbs out and sinks her fingers into the eye holes of his mask, a howl of pain escaping the man as her nails dig into the sensitive flesh around his eyes. Though it was difficult to see, there’s no question she drew blood before kicking him directly in the stomach. Sensing he’s in trouble, the big man flails wildy in her direction but she expertly avoids his strikes and uses his momentum to shove him off the edge of the stage. A loud crash reverberates throughout the arena as Dybbuk lands on a mess of cables and other various accessories.

Sure enough, in the chaos of everything going on with Sativa and Dybbuk, Gabriel Hartman had managed to sneak down to the commentators table where he had been ordered to go.
HARTMAN: ”Oh hey Vinny. The boss thought you might need some company so he asked me to come join you on commentary.”
VASSA: ”Well get the hell out of the way you idiot I can’t see!”
Hartman steps out of Vassa’s way just as the crowd took a collective breath of air into their lungs. From the edge of the stage, Sativa leapt, flipped and landed perfectly across the chest of the big man named Dybbuk. A LEAF ON THE WIND! Nearby, Logan Whitby, having recovered from being pushed around by Eli earlier, rushes over and begins to count the pinfall.

Bob Fisher, out of nowhere, dives across the back of Sativa and disrupts the pinning opportunity. A half moment later, Eric Lee spears Fisher to the ground and begins wailing on him with vicious rights and lefts. Sativa’s face remains a mask of blood. Dybbuks face has blood seeping out of the mask as the XTV Champion claws at him, trying to inflict whatever damage she can. And yet despite everything she had put Dybbuk through, a few moments later he sat right up and began working his way back to his feet.
As he gets fully back to his feet, Sativa leaps, trying to catch him with a jumping knee to the chin but instead he catches her in mid air and tosses her violently against the side of the stage. Wiping at his eyes, Dybbuk shakes his head and charges at her, lowering his shoulder and driving it directly into her abdomen, squashing her between him and the stage. As he begins to waylay her with rights and lefts to the face and torso, Eric Lee comes up from behind him and blasts him across the back with the XTV title. A few feet away Bob Fisher lies motionless on the ground, having taken the brunt of the assault from Lee.
Turning around, Dybbuk grabs Lee by the head and blasts him with one straight punch directly to the jaw, causing the man to drop the XTV title to the ground. From behind him, Sativa uses the advantage to jump on his back and rake at his eyes once more. Howling again, Dybbuk reaches up and grabs Sativa by the head and pulls her over the top of him, slamming her down to the ground. Gingerly she gets up and turns in the wrong direction, straight into the waiting arms of Dybbuk who kicks her in the stomach and sets her up into a fisherman’s suplex position before transitioning into a sitout powerbomb right across the XTV Title. He hooks one leg across her chest and shouts at the referee to count.

VASSA: ”D… DEADMAN WONDERLAND?! Folks… I think it’s time I admitted something to you all….”
HARTMAN: ”That man is not very nice. He needs to be put in time out.”
Referee Logan Whitby examines the destruction as Dybbuk shouts at him. Shaking his head, he recognizes that he has no other choice but to kneel down and count the pinfall.

Dybbuk stands, pulling the title out from underneath Sativa and holding it in the air, looking at it with his head titled sideways somewhat as Mike Powers, at ringside, announces the victory.
POWERS: ”Here is your winner… and NEW… XTV CHAMPION… DYYYYYYBBUUU–”
As Powers is announcing his name Dybbuk reaches up to his face and rips the mask off of his face, exposing his identity or the world to see. As he does so it’s as if the world stands frozen in time. Silence falls over the arena and the deep, ragged breaths of Dakota Smith, with blood dripping down his cheeks, can be heard by anyone close by. Nearby, Bob Fisher has recovered from the assault a few minutes earlier and is laughing gleefully at the revelation that has been made to the world. He claps his hands together and retrieves a microphone for Dakota, handing it to him.
VASSA: ”I… I was sworn to secrecy folks. I’m sorry. Under threat of physical harm I could not tell anyone. But I can confirm for you all watching at home that that is, indeed, Dakota Smith in the flesh.”
HARTMAN: ”Do you think he likes bar-b-que, Vinny?”
VASSA: ”Why don’t you go ask him yourself, you idiot?”
HARTMAN: ”Oh… Okay maybe I will.”
HARTMAN: ”But you said…”
HARTMAN: ”Okay okay… Jesus…”
For a few long moments, Dakota stares silently and intensely at the former XTV Champion. He raises the microphone to his lips as though he’s about to say something but then stops and chucks the microphone down, bouncing it off of her face. Without another word, Dakota Smith and Bob Fisher make their exit through the crowd, taking the 4CW XTV Title with them.

The cameras go backstage to once again find The Princess herself, Genevie. She has her eyes closed as she takes deep breaths. Her match is next, and this appears to be her preparations beforehand. She throws some punches at the air, and doesn’t seem to even notice her husband, Eli come up behind her. She shakes off a bit before turning around and colliding with him. Jumping backwards a bit, as she holds her hand over her chest, as she pants to get her breath back before glaring at him, and pushing past him.
G. CARLSON: “Take your destructive bullshit elsewhere Eli, I don’t have time for the tantrum right now.”
E. CARLSON: ”You’ve got a lot of nerve talking to me about destructive bullshit, you know.
He had come to her for a reason but, as she had been for the past week, she had quickly tuned out anything he might have to say to her. As she continued to go through her warm up Eli simply rolled his eyes. Gen shook her head in annoyance, but pretended mostly like Eli wasn’t even there.
G. CARLSON: “Yeah, of course. Is there a point why you are here? If you want to throw me into a wall like everyone else you’ve come into contact with, can you at least wait until after my match with Stevens? I really don’t want you to be the reason I lose ANOTHER match.”
Gen stopped stretching and put her hands on her hips, finally turning towards Eli. He had been going through a lot, but right now she really was pushing him to the back of her mind. She needed to stay focused on herself.
E. CARLSON: ”Am I allowed to get MY shit from OUR locker room? In case you didn’t notice there’s about 10 security guards outside of here waiting to escort me from the building.
He moved to get his own bag, shoving the few items he had taken out of it back in and zipping it quickly. She rolled her eyes.
G. CARLSON: “I don’t know what you expected to happen after destroying everything all night. At least you won’t be the excuse people use against me if I win or lose my match. Not like you care or anything. Once again Eli’s the victim and it’s all about you.”
Before he knew what was happening, something inside Eli snapped and with lightning quick movement he dropped his bag, his right hand shooting forward as he moved, latching onto Genie’s throat before slamming her roughly against the wall.
E. CARLSON: ”Call me a victim again, Genevieve. Fucking do it. Tell me again it’s all about me. DO IT!”
Gen was startled as her head hit the back of the wall, her hand instinctively grabbing the wrist that was clutched around her throat. She gasped for air and a bit as she struggled to even get a word out. As quick as it had happened, he let her go. She fell on the floor choking. Eli snapping out of his trance, and leaning down to try and help her up. She shoved him backwards, standing back up, rubbing her throat, the marks of his hand still visible.
G. CARLSON: “Is that where we are at now? You know in spite of everything I’ve been there for you. I got you to your mom’s funeral. I let you deal with it. Tried to help you deal with it, and of course my repayment is behavior like that. Thank you for proving me right, I was starting to have second thoughts about making my career strictly about me.”
The look of guilt on his face was clear to her. She rubbed her throat, not caring a single bit about his emotions right now. She dropped her hand, she hoped the more he saw it the worse he felt. He deserved it.
G. CARLSON: “I’m not your fucking punching bag. I’m not your fucking shadow, or the one who’s going to go out with you every show and cheer you on. Remove your belt for you, put it on you. I’m more than DONE playing the part of your fucking bitch. You know at first this match was about THIS.”
Gen walked right to her husband and put her finger right on the place Scott had busted him open weeks before. She pushed a bit before letting her hand fall.
G. CARLSON: “Hell it still was partially about that. Now? Fuck you and what happened to you. You deserved every single bit of what happened to you. I hope you’re happy and proud of yourself. This is no longer about the interests of the Prince and the Princess. You’re just the Prince, with a lone crown. Thank you for showing me how you really feel.”
Eli stared at her blankly for a long period of silence before turning his back on her, picking his bag up, and moving towards the door. Before opening it he turned back to her.
E. CARLSON: ”If that’s what you want, Princess, then have it your way.”
With a jerk of his arm he pulled the door open and gave her one final look before turning and heading out into the mass of guards waiting for him. As one reached out to take him by the arm, Eli jerked away from him.
E. CARLSON: ”Don’t fucking touch me.”
Gen watched her husband walk out the door as she held her head high, glaring daggers into him as he brushed off the security. She was still shaken and she was still in shock at what he had done. Her hands were balled up into fists at her sides, white knuckled.
He turned back to her. She let her hands relax, as well as the rest of her body. She needed to regroup and refocus for her match, it was minutes away.
G. CARLSON: “You ever put your hands on me like that, 4CW Champion or not? I’ll fucking end you.”
All of her seriousness faded as she got nothing more but a sarcastic, smirk on her face.
G. CARLSON: “Love you babe. He’s all yours boys. You probably should put some handcuffs on him or something. He’s a bit grabby tonight. Have a good night love.”
Gen grinned and waved at Eli as the security team grabbed him and he yelled and fought them off, locking eyes with his wife. Gen’s smile faded as she watched him turn away from her and be escorted towards the exit of the building. She closed her eyes and put her hand on her neck rubbing it a little, before they went on her head, as she tried to clear her mind of the events that just happened and regain focus for herself.


POWERS: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall…”
The beginning beat of “Killing You Hoes” by Trina begins to play as the lights dim, only white and pink lights shine move out over the crowd.
“Ah ah ah yep yep yep
The baddest bitch is back,
I’m back part 2, part 2
I’m reloaded and I’m killin you hoes”

Genevie appears from behind the curtain with a smirk on her face as she looks around the crowd, drinking in the boos as she does her signature stripper dance, twirling around as she shakes her ass. She completes a rotation as she bites her lip and winks at the crowd making her way down the ramp.
POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at 136lbs, she is THE BOSTON GENIE…GEEENNNEEEEVVVVVIIIEEE”
“I don’t care what a bitch think or how a hoe feel
Cause ain’t nann one of you hoes payin my bills
And ain’t nann one of you hoes fina buy me a crib
And ain’t nann one of you hoes fina get me a whip
I know I must make a lot of ya’ll hoes sick
And all I can tell you hoes, get used to it bitch!”

Genevie carries her head high as she walks down the ramp with confidence, with slow and steady steps. As the song plays she walks around to the side of the ring, hopping up on the apron. She adjusts her SnapBack as she blows the fans a kiss, listening to the boos get louder. This only makes her smirk grow wider as she climbs through the middle ropes, and standing up in the ring as she runs her hands down her body.
“And don’t you cross that line cause I get hot quick
And if you do it’s gonna be me & u up in this bitch
And I’m gonna show you why they call me the baddest bitch”

She does one final twirl to show off her ASSETS, rolling her eyes at the jealous fans as she goes over to the ropes and leans against them, checking her nails as the referee comes over and she dismisses him to get away from her because he is a peasant and she is The Princess. He backs off and she just continues to smirk as the music dies down.
VASSA: ”This might be the biggest night of this young woman’s career.”
HARTMAN: ”She’s so pretty.”
VASSA: ”Right… and she’s also facing one hell of a challenge in Scott Stevens. She’s made a point this week to make sure we know this match is about her and not about her cleaning up her husbands mess.”
HARTMAN: ”I think that Genie and Eli are great together and I think that Genie is going to be great tonight.”
The lights in the arena go pitch black, as red lasers and spotlights light up the area as the angelic voice of Lauryn Hill serenades the live crowd.

“Ready or not, here I come, you can’t hide
Gonna find you and take it slowly
Ready or not, here I come, you can’t hide
Gonna find you and make you want me”

The video screen lights up and flashes across the screen a Texas flag, with the words, “Texas Born. Texas Bred.” “Texas Forever.“ branded into the flag. The crowd reaction is mixed, but there are more cheers than boos, as “Ready or Not” by Fugees plays throughout the PA system. As the chorus begins to fade there is one final image that is displayed across the screen and that message reads in bold, capitalized letters…..SCOTT STEVENS as “Hellraiser” by Motorhead begins to play.

“Hellraiser, in the thunder and heat
Hellraiser, rock you back in your seat
Hellraiser, and I’ll make it come true
Hellraiser, I’ll put a spell on you”

The cheers intensify as the chorus hits the speakers, drawing out the man from Texas.

POWERS: ”Introducing at this time, coming to us from the Great State of Texas, by way of Houston, Texas.”

Stevens stops at the top of the entrance ramp and stares towards the ring where Genevie Carlson is patiently waiting for him. Stevens lowers the hood of his jacket to reveal the Eli Carlson mask, but the Texan takes it off and tosses to the ground to reveal a basic plain one underneath.

HARTMAN: ”Stevens looking to add another face to his growing collection of masks.”

VASSA: ”The only thing that will be collected tonight is Genie’s boot up Stevens’ ass.”

Walking down the aisle, he fists bumps some of his fans while raising a fist at a few of the more vocal bashers.

POWERS: ”Standing at six feet, six inches, and weighing in at two hundred and fifty-six pounds…”

As he finally gets to the ring, he climbs the nearest turnbuckle and stares down at his opponent.


Stevens slowly lifts the mask up to reveal his face. The Texan reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small vial.

HARTMAN: ”That’s that vial of the world champion’s blood Stevens has been carrying around with.”

VASSA: ”Is he trying to piss her off?”

Stevens opens the vial and pours the blood into his hand before smearing it over his face like war paint.

HARTMAN: ”Stevens playing mind games with Genie here tonight.”

VASSA: ”Is that even sanitary?”

An icy glare as he tosses the vial at the feet of his opponent followed by the throat slash gesture as he drops to the mat. Genie looks down at the vial and then up at Stevens and shakes her head in disgust. Who does something like that? Certainly the sanitary question that Vassa had just asked the viewing audience was running through the Princess of 4CW’s mind at that very moment but, as she had been saying all evening, she had bigger things to worry about than her husband or anything associated with him.
VASSA: ”Ladies and gentlemen if you’re just tuning in you’re sure to notice that Gabriel Hartman is here alongside me. That is because of a vicious and unprovoked attacked that my partner, Steve Johnson, suffered at the hands of Elijah Carlson earlier this evening.”
HARTMAN: ”I’m doing my best Vinny.”
VASSA: ”We don’t have an update on Steve’s condition for you just yet but we’re hoping to have one by the end of the evening. Until then, we’ve got one hell of a match waiting for us right now with Genevieve squaring off against Scott Stevens.”
HARTMAN: ”Just moments ago we watched Scott Stevens smear a vial of blood, the 4CW Champions blood, across his face.”
VASSA: ”To her credit Genie is maintaining her composure. She looks ready to go and as far as I’m concerned, I’d love to see her prove her ability without her husband here tonight.”
After checking with both Scott Stevens and Genie, making sure they were ready for the match to begin, referee Larry Collins signals for the bell.


At the sound of the bell Genie is quick to move across the ring. The bigger Scott Stevens looks to tie her up but she’s quick to duck under and spin once past him, driving her shoulder down to the back of his left knee. With Stevens in a kneeling position, Genie quickly wraps herself around Stevens, hooking his head under her arm and driving him down to the mat with a quick DDT. She immediately rolls away from her opponent and stands, bouncing off the ropes and leaping into the air where she drives her knee downward into the backside of Scott Stevens left knee, the same knee she had targeted with her very first move of the match. Rolling through, she wraps both legs around Stevens left leg and grabs onto his foot, torquing his leg and, more specifically, his knee in an awkward direction.
VASSA: ”This is nice to see from the early going, with Genie a bit more in control and focused than she has been at times in the past.”
HARTMAN: ”She’s pretty great. Say, do you think they’ll deliver food out here to us?”
Stevens, having both the size and strength advantage, manages to work his way over to the ropes and grab hold of the bottom rope. Larry Collins taps Genie, instructing her to break the hold, but she holds on until he gets to a four count before she finally, reluctantly breaks the hold. As she gets back to her feet, however, she keeps her a hold of Scott Stevens left foot and raises his leg up into the air before slamming it down violently to the mat. The Princess of 4CW continues her assault by stomping on Stevens knee while he still maintains his hold on the rope, forcing Collins to get between Genie and Stevens and order her back to her own corner to give Stevens breathing room and an opportunity to get back to his feet.
Letting out an angry cry, Genie glares at both Collins and her opponent who gradually gets back to his feet, brushes himself off and tests his left knee to make sure no serious damage was done. A moment later he nods his head at the referee and Collins allows the match to continue, stepping out of the way. A bit more cautiously, Stevens moves towards Genie, his leg causing him some pain as he flinches every few steps. Genie fakes shooting at Stevens left leg causing him to halt his progress. When he does so she stands straight and launches herself into the air, catching Stevens flush with a roundhouse kick that sends him stumbling back into the corner but doesn’t drop him to the mat.
Backing up to the opposite corner, Genie lines Stevens up and charges across the ring at him, leaping and driving her boot across his face, catching herself on the top rope. As he rests in the corner dazed, Genie slides around Stevens and steadies herself on the top turnbuckle pad before leaping off, over Stevens, grabbing onto his neck and pulling him out of the corner, slamming him down to the mat with a well executed modified cutter. Sensing an early opportunity, Genie rolls Stevens over onto his back and covers but as referee Larry Collins slides in to begin counting the pin, he notices that Stevens has his foot draped over the bottom rope. Standing up, Collins waves off the pinfall attempt and brings the situation to Genie’s attention.

VASSA: ”This has been all Genie from the get go. Focusing on Stevens leg from the start caused him to hesitate and has allowed her to maintain momentum up to this point.”
HARTMAN: ”What kind of shampoo do you think she uses?”
VASSA: ”Focus, Gabe!”
HARTMAN: ”I can’t! I’m starving. I ran out of ramen noodles at home a few days ago.”
A bit arrogantly, Genie gets up and plays to the fans, waving to them like she’s a princess which earns her a chorus of boo’s. Those boo’s only get louder as she turns and steps across Stevens chest. After a few more moments she reaches down to pull Stevens back to his feet but is caught with a huge right hand to the jaw that flattens Genie to the mat. Stevens, shaking off the cobwebs, pushes himself back to his feet and closes on his opponent who recognizes the danger she’s suddenly in and is doing her best to scramble away. When she reaches the opposite corner she pulls herself up quickly and meets the closing Scott Stevens with a stiff boot to the face that causes him to stumble back.
As Genie steps out of the corner Stevens turns back and catches her, wrapping his arms around her waist and tossing her over his head with a belly to belly suplex. Truth be told that’s probably the closest that Scott Stevens has been to tiddies in a long time. It’s only fitting that they be Genie’s, who basically everyone on the 4CW roster has seen and fondled in person at one point or another. When Genie hits the mat the impact is brutal and the pain that the single maneuver sends through her body is evident by the expression on her face. Stalking her, Stevens takes his time closing the distance between the two of them. Though he has the momentum in his favor it’s clear he knows what Genie’s primary strategy is and that’s to attack his legs and take what little mobility he has left away from him.
When he’s near enough, Stevens locks on to Genie and drags her back to her feet. After delivering a few strikes, Stevens lifts her up into a firemans carry position and then drops her down and nearly breaks her in half with a gutbuster. In agony, Genie clutches her stomach and rolls over onto her back. The big Texan is relentless in his attack, though, as he steps over Genie and mounts her, delivering punch after punch after punch with both right hands and left hands to her head and abdomen. It’s clear she’s in trouble as referee Larry Collins is looking on closely, considering stepping in and ending the match before any serious harm can be done to her.

VASSA: ”The sheer strenghth of Scott Stevens is frightening and he’s battering Genie right now and there’s nothing that can be done. Eli has been escorted from the building and god only knows where the other two members of the Royal Family are.”
HARTMAN: ”Om nom nom nom.”
VASSA: ”Jesus what the fuck?! Did they actually bring you a hot dog? They never bring me food.”
HARTMAN: ”Nutrisystem doesn’t deliver ringside.”
Before the match can be stopped, Stevens relents and stands up, pulling Genie up by her hair before whipping her violently into the near corner. On impact Genie bounces off and slams face down onto the mat. Continuing his methodical pace, Stevens moves towards Genie slowly and pulls her back to her feet again. Once more, Stevens irish whips her across the ring to the opposite corner and once again she slams into the corner turnbuckle pads violently. Her face says it all, the pain excruciating as she groans while Stevens closes in on her again. With ease, when he gets near her, Stevens hoists her up to the top rope. And then he goes to the place where Jason Cashe has sworn he would never in his life ever ever ever go. He wraps Genies legs around his shoulders and spins, trying to execute a powerbomb.
Out of desperation and seeking to stay alive in the match, Genie manages to counter the attempted powerbomb with a hurricanrana that flips Stevens over onto his back. Smartly, Genie rolls out of the ring to buy herself some time while Stevens, surprised at the sudden turn, uses the ropes to begin to pull himself back up to his feet. As the crowd watches on, their cheers and excitement is clear evidence of just how close this match truly is.

VASSA: ”What a counter!!! She absolutely needed that to stay in this match as Scott Stevens had taken full control and was unleashing the full wrath of his arsenal upon her.”
HARTMAN: ”Vinny. I need mustard.”
Genie, having gained her bearings, moves to climb back into the ring just as Stevens fully gets back to his feet. Scott moves to catch Genie on the ring apron but she smartly wraps her hands around the back of his head and drops down to the mat outside of the ring, crushing the top rope against Stevens throat before sliding back into the ring. She pivots and places an perfect dropkick to Scott Stevens left knee, buckling him. Quickly, she bounces off the ropes and, on the rebound, drives a double axe handle across his chest, causing Stevens to stumble badly backwards. He comes to a halt resting against the ropes. Genie takes off at full speed in Stevens direction.

Out of nowhere Scott Stevens catches a running Genie with REMEMBER THE ALAMO, a superkick that catches her right on the chin and flattens her. However, the impact does great damage to Stevens as he used his left leg to hit the maneuver, the same leg Genie had been focusing on throughout the match. In pain he falls to the mat and clutches his knee. Despite the fact that it’s not the knee that had suffered punishment throughout his career and needed support from a brace, the pain is evident all the same. Slowly, Stevens drags himself across the ring and finally drapes his arm across the body of Genevie.

HARTMAN: ”Ugh, Vinny. C’mon. You just knocked my hot dog into row P.”
The crowd groans in disappointment, thinking that the match was in the books and yet somehow Genie had managed to kick out. In disbelief, Stevens pushes himself back up to his feet and stares down at Genie’s temporarily lifeless body. His face is a smeared mess of sweat and Eli Carlson’s blood from weeks earlier. In frustration, Stevens slams his fists off of the mat before pushing himself all the way back up to his feet. After steadying himself he reaches down and pulls Genie back up, hoisting her up onto his shoulders. The fans hold their breaths in anticipation of the coming maneuver, MORAL COMPASS, a spike pile driver that would surely put the Royal Family Princess away for good. Sensing the danger, Genie slips out of his grip and down his back, shoving him forward once her feet touch the safety of the ring.
VASSA: ”Screw your hot dog you homeless bastard. Pay attention t the match! Say something noteworthy!”
HARTMAN: ”Scott Stevens has bad breath?”
Stevens turns and swings with all his might, trying to take Genie’s head off with a clothesline. She ducks it and catches him clean with a forearm to the jaw that rocks him. Still, he doesn’t go down (something a lot of men refuse to do with Genie) but instead fires back with a right hand of his own the sends Genie tumbling backwards into the ropes. Quickly she bounces back and runs at him. He swings as she gets close enough but she ducks under and bounces off the ropes. When she comes back she drives both of her forearms into the back of Stevens head, sending him stumbling forward but again not down. Frustrated, she bounces off the ropes once more.
Stevens catches her on the rebound and lifts her up, spinning. As he does so he blocks refere Larry Collins view, giving Genie one last means of escape. She rakes her nails through Stevens eyes, causing him to drop her before he can deliver his DOUBLE S SPINEBUSTER. Clutching at his eyes, Genie swoops behind him and drives her shoulder to his left knee once more. He howls out in pain as he falls to a kneeling position. As Stevens rubs his eyes, Genie notices the position he’s in and takes advantage. #BOWDOWN! He wraps her arms around his head and flips over, driving him face first down to the mat. Quickly, with all the momentum in her favor, she stands and scowls at her opponent. Wasting no time, Genie backs up to the ropes and then moves towards Stevens as he pushes himself up to his hands and knees. STILETTO KISS! The curb stomp variation drives Stevens face first into the mat with a sickening thud. Genie drops to her knees and rolls him over onto his back, falling across his chest and hooking the leg.


VASSA: ”She did it! I can’t freaking believe it she beat Scott Stevens without any help from the Royal Family.”
HARTMAN: ”Yayyyyyy good job Genie!”
VASSA: ”Uhh… what?”
HARTMAN: ”She’s always nice to me and gives me a piece of gum before I interview her.”
Wide smile on her face, Genie rocks back onto her knees and looks up at the replay playing on the video screen above the ring. The crowd, though not really fans of hers, clap appreciateively for both people and the effort they witnessed. With both hands she brushes her hair out of her eyes and stands as referee Larry Collins approaches her and raises her hand in the air victoriously, while Mike Powers announces the result.
As her name is announced as the winner she jerks her wrist away from the referee, shouting at him not to touch her. Genie then moves to one of the turnbuckles and ascends it, raising her arms in the air, proud of the victory she had just claimed for herself. The crowd, witnessing the return to form of her attitude, shows their displeasure with her by booing her as usual. After spending some time showing off and taunting the fans on that side of the arena, Genie hops down and pauses, smirking as Stevens begins to stir but paying little more attention to him as she moves to the opposite turnbuckle and climbs it, raising her hands there again.
VASSA: ”Spectacular way to end the night. What a hard fought battle that caps off a crazy evening. I only wish my partner was here with me to have witnessed the rest of it.”
VASSA: ”We’re sorry to say that we still have no update on his condition. You’ll have to check out later on tonight to get an update if you’re intere-… WATCH OUT GENIE!”
HARTMAN: ”Hey… who’s that guy?”
Stevens, back on his feet, has his sights set on Genie and begins moving in her direction, unsatisfied with the end of the match and surely intent on putting her through the same sort of assault that he had inflicted on Caleb Houston and Elijah Carlson. Before he can get to her, however, a body with his face concealed by the hood of the shirt he’s wearing hops over the barrier and slides into the ring, catching Stevens with a spear that takes him to the ground. It’s then that Genie realizes something is going on behind her and turns, hopping down from the turnbuckle. All she sees is someone beating on Scott Stevens although it’s clear she has an idea who it is as she approaches the figure and pulls him off. As she does so, the hood comes back and it’s revealed to be Eli, who had only a little earlier been booted out of the arena.
VASSA: ”How did he get back in here?! SOMEONE GET WALLACE OUT HERE NOW!”
HARTMAN: ”Hey guys… don’t fight!”
Angrily, Genie shoves Eli and points in his face, telling him that he shouldn’t be in the ring and that he should have stayed away. Defending himself, Eli points behind him where Stevens had been laying as tells Genie that he had just saved her ass but she refuses to believe him, slapping him viciously across the face. Eli’s eyes narrow but at the last moment he senses movement behind him and manages to duck out of the way as Scott Stevens fists came crashing down where his body had been. Genie, with quickness, manages to block the attempted attack and spare herself.
Behind the two, Eli strips off his hoodie quickly, revealing the 4CW Championship buckled around his waist. He quickly unhooks the buckles and grasps the belt in his hand, stepping towards Stevens to blast him across the back with it. However, Stevens much like Eli had done, senses the danger and moves, leaving Genie to catch the brunt of the blow directly to her face. As she falls, Eli stands there stunned.


VASSA: ”Holy shit! Eli just blasted Genie with his belt! What is going on tonight?!”
HARTMAN: ”Noooo guys stop it don’t fight!”
Scott Stevens senses the chance to make both Eli and Genie pay, grabbing Eli by the arm spinning him and preparing to drop him with the Toxic Sting diamond cutter. Instead, Eli spins and catches Stevens flush against the jaw with the belt and drops him as well. In the midst of all the chaos, Eli alone is left standing in the ring. He looks from Stevens, to his wife, and then back to Stevens. With a sneer, Eli points down at Stevens at spits at him as he raises the 4CW Championship high above his head, holding it there for a few long moments.
VASSA: ”I dont’ know what we’re witnessing here tonight, folks. I’m at an absolute loss for words.”
HARTMAN: ”This makes me sad. This isn’t how the notebook ends! What the hell?”
Lowering his belt, Eli looks back at his wife and starts to check on her when he notices a horde of security guards coming out from backstage and making their way down the ramp. With no options left, Eli drops to his back and rolls himself out of the ring and exits over the barrier, disappearing into the crowd. As the guards get to the bottom of the ramp and surround the ring, we’re left with a shot of both Genevieve Carlson and Scott Stevens lying motionless in the ring.
VASSA: “Folks, I hate to cut things short but that’s all the time we have for tonight!”
HARTMAN: “This show was massive! We already have to be over our time frame.”
VASSA: “If we are, fuck it. Ain’t nothing else on right now except for late night titties and softcore porn.”
HARTMAN: “So why are we still here?!”
VASSA: “You’re right! Let’s get out of here and go see some skin. Folks, be sure to tune in two weeks from now as we head to the KeyBank Center in Buffalo, New York.”
HARTMAN: “Eewww!!!”
VASSA: “Be quiet homeless Hartman! We’ll see you at Adrenaline Sixty-One! Good night folks!”
HARTMAN: “Maybe Steve will be back to keep things interesting?”
VASSA: “Shut up, Gabe!”