ADRENALINE E62 (096)

4CW ADRENALINE E62 MARCH 15TH, 2017
MOHEGAN SUN ARENA UNCASVILLE, CT

“Bulls On Parade” blares throughout the arena as the opening for Adrenaline comes to an end and a clear overhead shot of the Mohegan Sun Arena comes into focus. The view instantly transitions to the inside of the arena where fans stretch as far as the eye can see. Scanning over the crowd, the camera zooms in to various signs held throughout the seats.

UNTAG ME

NETFLIX
A N D
C H I L L

BLOOD IN
YOUR EYE

BLAH
BLAH
BLAH

WHAT?

S T A Y
STRONG
ALEXIS

Down at ringside, Steve Johnson and Vinny Vassa sit behind the booth, locked and loaded for tonight’s event.

JOHNSON: ”Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to 4CW Adrenaline! I’m your host, Steve Johnson…”

VASSA: ”And I’m Vinny Vassa!”

JOHNSON: ”This is Adrenaline Sixty-Two and we’re live from the Mohegan Sun Arena in Uncasville, Connecticut!”

VASSA: ”We have an exciting night planned for you all watching from home and for all these fans here in attendance tonight.”

JOHNSON: ”The house is packed! Pretty soon we’re going to need larger venues because there isn’t an empty seat in here tonight.”

VASSA: ”There’s no doubt about it because 4CW hosts some of THE best wrestlers in the business today. Find another roster with the talent depth that 4CW has. As they say, I’ll wait!”

JOHNSON: ”We’re coming right off of All Or Nothing where we saw quite a few 4CW Championships change hands over the course of the night.”

VASSA: ”We did! After returning to 4CW and reclaiming what was once his, Dakota Smith was then taken by surprise as Cyrus Riddle returned and cost him the XTV Championship match against Sativa.”

JOHNSON: ”That was one heck of a match before Cyrus showed up, but damn did he make quite the entrance.”

VASSA: ”He did, and I can’t wait to see where this goes. But let’s not forget that at the end of the night, Sativa Nevaeh reclaimed what Dakota took from her weeks before. She now has two XTV Championship reigns under her belt.”

JOHNSON: ”Hats off to Sativa. Rest easy while you can because we know things are always busy in the XTV Division.”

VASSA: ”Later on we witnessed the dysfunctional team of the Asshole Antagonists win the Tag Team Championships from not only one team, but two!”

JOHNSON: ”Due to JPD’s absence, Genevie Carlson took over the reigns with Tara Davidson as they defended against the Asshole Antagonists and the team of Lauryn Wolfe and Bronx Valescence.”

VASSA: ”This was one hell of a match but in the end, the team that everyone thought couldn’t work as a cohesive unit pulled it off and shocked the world.”

JOHNSON: ”Congratulations to Johnny Evil and Adrian Tanner Jr. for winning their first Tag Team Championships together.”

VASSA: ”The last title change came as a shock to me if I’m being honest. Bryan Williams had been through quite a bit earning the Pride Championship and defending it in a tough contest at Winter Wasteland against not one, nor two, but three individuals.”

JOHNSON: ”Bryan has showcased himself as a great Pride Champion but in the end, he just couldn’t fend off Matthias Barrows in a two out of three falls contest where one pin and one submission was required to secure the victory.”

VASSA: ”I want to see where this leads. Bryan is rightfully owed a rematch given the fact he’s successfully defended. There’s bad blood between him and Matthias and I just know it isn’t going to simmer down tonight.”

JOHNSON: ”Matthias stole the belt from him and then stole the match from him. That has to sting if I’m being honest here.”

VASSA: ”You know what doesn’t sting?”

JOHNSON: ”What’s that?”

VASSA: ”Eli’s pride because he did exactly what he said he was going to do.”

JOHNSON: ”I quit this opening. Thanks for making the decision easier for me, Vinny.”

VASSA: ”OH COME ON!!!”

JOHNSON: ”I’m still waiting for that apology that he owes me.”

VASSA: ”Okay, but while you wait, let’s get into what we have planned for tonight.”

JOHNSON: ”We have one heck of a lineup in store, that’s what! And to cap it all off, we will end the night with a Fate Championship match as Eddie Valentine will defend against the former champion, Tara Davidson.”

VASSA: ”Tara gets her rematch tonight. Will she capitalize or will Eddie Valentine cement himself as a legit champion and not a place holder?”

JOHNSON: ”That’s he question of the night!”

VASSA: ”It’s back, folks! The tournament to name a contender for the 4CW Championship at South Beach Brawl has returned.”

JOHNSON: ”For the second year in a row, the South Beach Brawl Cup kicks off tonight as eight individuals will step inside of the ring for round one.”

VASSA: ”There are some really great names in this thing. Literally, anyone could win their way to a 4CW Championship match at South Beach Brawl.”

JOHNSON: ”Let’s take a look at the bracket, shall we!”

VASSA: ”It isn’t as big as the tournament was last year, but full of quality talent nonetheless.”

JOHNSON: ”There are quite a few names that dislike the champ, Eli, quite a bit. And then there’s his wife.”

VASSA: ”That caught me by surprise as well! What’s she doing in there!?”

Cutting the commentary off, the lights around the arena go dim as the sounds of a guitar riff begin to reverberate from the speakers around the building. On the screens above the entrance way flash highlights of Elijah Carlson’s tenure in 4CW, with emphasis on his match against Jair and his title defense against Scott Stevens at All or Nothing. As the video clips begin to play on, the opening lyrics of Alter Bridges “My Champion” begin.

”May this be your victory song

A song for you when I am gone

Reminding you of what you’re meant to be.

A gift to bring you clarity

To show you that your destiny

Is not defined by what you’ve failed to see

No”

While Myles Kennedy’s voice drags on the final word of the opening verse, the stage is flooded with bright white lights as the 4CW Champion, Elijah Carlson, emerges from the backstage area in a pair of blue jeans and a tucked in black polo shirt with the 4CW logo on the upper left corner of the shirt. Over his right shoulder the glittering 4CW Championship hangs loosely, boo’s reigning down upon him, although here and there are a few faint cheers that can be heard. Paying little attention to the fans, Eli begins his walk down the ramp toward the ring as the lyrics to the song roll on.

”May this lift you up

When you feel you’ll fall again

You cannot win, no

Hope these words are enough

For you to be strong, my friend”

With ease he ascends the steel ring steps once at the bottom of the ramp, stepping through the middle and top ropes. As he enters the ring he moves to the far turnbuckle and steps up to the middle rope, raising the 4CW Championship high above his head as the chorus of mostly boo’s erupts in disapproval. Unphased by it, Eli points at the title and then at his chest before hopping down back to the mat. He then motions for a microphone from the timekeeper and is promptly handed one as the music fades.

E. CARLSON: ”Ladies and gentlemen…”

The Connecticut crowd only heightens in volume, forcing Eli to pause and shake his head until they managed to quiet down a few moments later, giving him the room to speak.

E. CARLSON: ”Ladies and gentlemen I stand before you, in this very ring, STILL your 4CW Champion. Hate it or love it, it doesn’t make one bit of difference. You can scream your lungs out and boo me. You can hurl whatever insult you want to at me. The simple fact of the matter is that standing before you, in this very ring, is your Champion. You might not like my methods. You might not approve of my attitude. You can hate me with every fiber of my being but I am exactly who I told you I am.”

With a pause, Eli paces towards the opposite side of the ring, bringing his hand to his pursed lips briefly while considering his next thought.

E. CARLSON: ”Now I could stand here and spend the next five or ten minutes detailing for you how I did exactly what I said I was going to do against Scott Stevens. I could relive every single moment of the Caged Ladder Match at All or Nothing. I could remind you of my guarantee that I would be the better man on that very evening but it wouldn’t change how you feel about me. And it wouldn’t change how I’m going to do business. But we have an understanding now, don’t we, Connecticut?”

In a quick motion, Eli adjusts the 4CW Championship on his shoulder and then continues.

E. CARLSON: ”I’m not what you wanted. You didn’t want to see the reign of Jair Hopkins come to the abrupt end that it did at Winter Wasteland and so you’ve loathed me for months now because of that. Hell, you’ve despised me even before that because of some crazed idea that I somehow pushed the easy button to get where I’m at. You’ve hated me for a long time now and, admittedly, I’ve resented each and every one of you for it. Every week I’ve come out to this ring and busted my ass, put on a show and you’ve spat in my face for it. I worked for months with broken ribs and not once did one of you ever say thank you. Not once. From the poorest son of a bitch in these seats all the way up to the tip top of the administration of this company, I’ve been unappreciated.”

Another pause interrupts Eli’s speech, once more considering his words before raising the microphone to his lips.

E. CARLSON: ”But you know what.. I forg-”

Eli is suddenly cut off as 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: ”What’s he doing out here?!?!?!?!?”

JOHNSON: ”That’s a good question.”

Walking down the aisle, he fists bumps some of his fans while keeping his eyes solely focused on the man he gave it his all at All or Nothing.

VASSA: ”Typical Stevens trying to take the spotlight from someone more deserving. You lost Stevens! Get over it!”

As he finally gets to the ring, he motions for a microphone and doesn’t remove his stare from the champion who doesn’t remove his gaze as well. With microphone in hand, Stevens makes his way to the center of the ring where the world champion and former number one contender stand. Eli can be seen asking Stevens what he’s doing out here and the Texan looks at the championship on the champ’s shoulder and Eli holds it up and a barrage of boos fill the arena once more.

VASSA: ”That’s right you inbred hick! Eli is your champion and you along with these other idiots have to like it.”

JOHNSON: ”Eli is the champion but Stevens surely doesn’t like it.”

Stevens breaks the tension between himself and the champion as he slowly brings the microphone to his lips.

STEVENS: ”Settle down, settle down. I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

Stevens says which throws Eli off a bit.

STEVENS: ”I’m here for another reason.”

Stevens says as Eli demands to know why the Texan is out here.

STEVENS: ”I came out here to look you in the eye like a man and shake the hand of the man who proved me wrong at All or Nothing and defeated me in the middle of the ring.”

Stevens says which causes Eli to smirk and take a few steps back shaking his finger.

STEVENS: ”I promise you Eli, there is no ulterior motive with me being out here other than to show you the proper respect. You said it yourself, no one wants you as world champion, but you keep proving the critics wrong. You continue to defy the odds in matches you have killed yourself in because you want to prove you are not just the top champion in 4CW but the best wrestler in the entire company as well by busting your ass night in and night out.”

Stevens says as the crowd boos Stevens as he puts the champ over and Stevens waits for the crowd to die down before continuing.

STEVENS: ”Was I disappointed I didn’t walk out with that….”

Stevens says as he points to the 4CW championship.

STEVENS: ”Of course, who wouldn’t be. However, you were the better man at All or Nothing and I had to eat a lot of crow after I failed to win the world title after I guaranteed victory.”

Stevens says with a deep breath.

STEVENS: ”These people may not respect or the wrestlers in the back, but i’m out here to look you in the eye and tell you to your face that you have earned my respect.”

Stevens says as he extends his hand which causes the crowd to boo loudly once again. Eli thinks about for minute before slowly approaching Stevens.

JOHNSON: ”Mutual respect being shown here.”

VASSA: ”I think I’m going to puke.”

As Eli gets closer to Stevens he stops before hawking a loogie into the Texan’s face.

VASSA: ”YES! THERE IS A GOD! HALLELUJAH!”

JOHNSON: ”What total disrespect from the champion after he commanded it.”

Eli laughs hysterically as Stevens wipes the spit from his face and his face begins to turn red with rage.

E. CARLSON: ”You want to talk about respect and yet you interrupt me?! Do you really think you are going to come out here and offer to shake my hand after every single comment you made this week? You think you deserve another shot at me? You think you deserve to be in the South Beach Brawl Cup? At All or Nothing you climbed into that cage with me, you took your very best shots over and over again and what happened, Scott? I kept getting back up. You left me without any means of getting back inside the cage, and you still didn’t have it in you to walk out with a win and you think you deserve to be in this ring with me? You think you have any right to interrupt me?!”

Stevens looks like he’s on the verge of exploding and tearing the champions head off but instead thinks better of it and backs away, stepping back through the ropes, hopping down to the outside of the ring and slowly backing up the entrance ramp.

E. CARLSON: ”That’s right, Scott. You’re outgunned, you’re outclassed in every way, shape and form. I was the better man at All or Nothing and if by some stroke of God you make it through this tournament and have to face me again at South Beach Brawl, you’ll be reminded of the same exact lesson I taught you at All or Nothing. You don’t have what it takes to keep me down. End of story. Now hit my music.”

Tossing the microphone over his head, “My Champion” by Alter Bridge begins to play once more as Eli stares Stevens down from inside the ring. The reaction from the fans is a mixture of stunned, outraged and amused. Some fans sit in silence. Others boo Eli viciously but the small minority that had cheered him upon his arrival in the ring once more makes their voices heard as the scene fades backstage.

Backstage, the camera zooms on Johnny Evil who is prowling around inside the locker room with the 4CW Tag Team Championship belt over his shoulder. He walks over to one of the lockers and looks around suspiciously for a moment before slowly opening it up. As the camera zooms in, you catch glimpse of Adrian Tanner’s wrestling gear, along with his 4CW Tag Team Championship belt resting graciously over one of the racks. With a smirk, Evil picks it up and looks at it. He holds it up a bit before slowly placing Tanner’s belt over his other shoulder. Looking from shoulder to shoulder admiring both belts he nods his head in approval and slowly closes the locker door. The camera pans out to catch Adrian who had snuck in on Evil while he was doing this. Standing behind Evil as he turns, he bumps into Tanner. With the two chest to chest, Johnny kinda startles back from surprise.

Tanner looks at the belts resting over Johnny’s shoulders and smirks, grabbing his back from off of Evil’s shoulder.

TANNER: ”Nice Try!”

With a sarcastic grin, Johnny shrugs…

EVIL: ”What, I was just looking at it…”

TANNER: ”Well you my backstabbing scumbag of a partner have your own to look at and admire… do that!”

EVIL: ”Don’t forget, I won them titles at All Or Nothing.”

Tanner chuckles a bit…

TANNER: ”See, no matter what you may think… I’m not self centered. I know what these belts mean. You didn’t win them at All Or Nothing, I didn’t win them at All Or Nothing, we both won them.”

Tanner looks at his 4CW Tag Team Championship which he holds to the side of him.

TANNER: ”Now, unless there is something you needed, I’m busy. Adios bitch, you know where the door is!”

Evil snarls a bit before brushing it off and making his way to the exit. He opens the locker room door and walks out into the hallway with the cameraman following him. As he closes the door, Evil stands in place for a moment contemplating. He shakes his head and takes about two steps before stopping in his tracks.

With his eyes now completely focused on something, the camera pans around to catch what Johnny is looking at…

A forklift…

OPENING MATCH
FATE DIVISION
NIOBE MARTIN VS. JASON CASHE

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

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.

“Nightmare!

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.

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.

JOHNSON: ”After a brutal match at All Or Nothing and stealing Lord Raab’s mask, Jason Cashe is here tonight to face off with another long tenure 4CW veteran.”

VASSA: ”I don’t know what’s going through his head but it seems he has his sights set on those who have been with 4CW since the beginning. Plus he’s wearing that nasty mask!”

JOHNSON: ”It is kind of gross, especially after the green ooze that covered it two weeks go. Tonight he gets another one as he’ll be climbing in the ring with Niobe Martin.”

VASSA: ”This match has more history than just who was here at the start of 4CW. These two used to be lovers!”

JOHNSON: ”That they were, and now they are anything but.”

VASSA: ”I love watching Niobe perform in the ring. I just hope he doesn’t get any ideas like he did with KJE, she was a hot piece of tail too!”

JOHNSON: ”I don’t think it’s Cashe that you have to worry about. Niobe can be quite a handful and deadly in the ring. If things are as bad between those two as they seem, Cashe just may be in for quite the surprise.”

VASSA: ”Don’t you think this match would be better suited for Jerry Springer?”

JOHNSON: ”You may be right, but where’s the fun in that?”

VASSA: ”I’m sure it would be fun, but not as fun as seeing it all go down here.”

Standing in the center of the ring, the official checks with both corners before getting the nod from each. With both wrestlers ready to get things underway, the official quickly throws his hand in the air and signals for the bell.

DING!!! DING!!!

Exiting his corner, Cashe slowly walks towards the center of the ring with his eyes locked on Niobe. Licking his lips, he comes to a stop in the center before rubbing his beard. For a short moment, a smile comes to Cashe’s face before he winks at Niobe and then blows her a kiss. Bursting from her corner before the kiss can make its way over, Niobe charges towards Cashe in a blur. As she closes in, Cashe steps forward and goes for a clothesline but Niobe slides to the canvas, popping back up to her feet behind him.

Whipping around, Cashe leaves his midsection exposed and Niobe quickly takes advantage, kicking her right foot up and driving it into his stomach. She then spins around and connects with a discus back elbow to Cashe’s mouth, standing him straight up. Shooting in and dropping to one knee, Niobe lifts Cashe off his feet and flips him over to his back with a fireman’s carry takeover. Cashe rolls up to a seated position and before he knows it, Niobe grinds her forearm across the bridge of his nose with a gruesome crossface.

Dragging her arm back and forth across Cashe’s face, Niobe digs in deep with the crossface, pressing harder and harder against his flesh. Reaching both hands above his head blindly, Cashe grabs two handfuls of hair before jerking his arms forward and flipping Niobe over his head and down to her back. As she rolls up to a seated position herself, right between Cashe’s legs, Cashe reaches around her head and goes for a crossface of his own. Just as his forearm contacts her face, Cashe scoots forward to close the gap between the two. Before Cashe can get the crossface settled in, Niobe digs her fingernails into his skin and claws him from just beneath his elbow down to his wrist. Letting Up, Cashe relieves the pressure for just a moment, giving Niobe just enough time to slip her head out from under his arm and throw an elbow back into Cashe’s forehead.

JOHNSON: ”Niobe’s drawn blood from the scratches on Cashe’s arm.”

VASSA: ”She’s taking the meaning of sinking her claws in him to a whole new level.”

JOHNSON: ”When Cashe is in the ring it is expected that there will be some foul play. Niobe is making sure she’s the first one to strike.”

Back on her feet, Niobe takes off for the ropes and as she comes back on the rebound, she plows Cashe over with a running knee to the face, knocking him flat on his back. Looking down to Cashe with his arms spread to his sides, Niobe quickly raises her foot into the air before stomping down onto his fingertips. Instantly, Cashe pulls his hand to his chest, securing it with his other. With a smile on her face, Niobe then pulls Cashe up from the mat and locks onto his wrist. Using every ounce of strength she has, she whips him to the far ropes. As he bounces off and comes back on the rebound, Niobe then takes off towards him and leaps forward, flying through the air with a flying clothesline.

Catching Niobe in mid air, Cashe wraps his arms around her with one holding her underneath her extended arm. Niobe’s momentum causes her legs to swing forward, turning her body parallel with the mat. Cashe then drops down to one knee and slams Niobe over his elevated knee with a backbreaker variation. Bouncing off Cashe’s knee, Niobe flips over and crashes face first to the canvas as Cashe quickly rises to his feet. Turning to the rope nearby, Cashe jogs towards them before coming back and falling across Niobe’s throat with a leg drop, pinning her head to the mat as her feet shoot up into the air.

Pushing himself up, Cashe grabs ahold of Niobe and slowly pulls her up to her feet. Grabbing her head with both hands, Cashe holds it in place as he pulls his head away from her and then slams it forward, hitting her directly in the center of the forehead with a headbutt. Taking a bit of damage himself, Cashe is briefly stunned but keeps a firm grip on Niobe’s head. He then slowly pulls his head back a second time before slamming it forward again and hitting her with another headbutt. As Cashe releases Niobe, she stumbles backwards into the ropes where he catches herself by hooking her arm around the top rope. Holding his forehead in pain, Cashe turns his back to her and takes a few steps in the opposite direction. Shaking off the cobwebs, he then instantly spins around and charges at Niobe full speed.

VASSA: ”I swear he’s going to give himself a concussion one of these days.”

JOHNSON: ”Just think of how Niobe feels.”

VASSA: ”Like a deer in the headlights!”

Closing in, Cashe lunges forward with his left arm, going at Niobe’s head with a clothesline.

JOHNSON: ”He missed!”

Ducking at the last split second, Niobe avoids the clothesline as Cashe’s body crashes into her. With Cashe’s weight on her back, Niobe then stands straight up, lifting Cashe off the mat and flipping him up and over the top rope. Upside down, Cashe grabs onto the top rope, using it to guide himself as he painfully crashes onto the apron.

VASSA: ”Niobe dodged a bullet right there.”

JOHNSON: ”Too bad we can’t say the same thing for Cashe.”

In pain, Cashe grabs onto the ropes and begins to pull himself up as Niobe slowly turns around to face him. Reaching over the top rope, Niobe grabs onto Cashe and pulls him up to his feet before laying three hard rights across the top of his head. Drawing back for a fourth, Niobe’s grip slips as Cashe rips his head away from her hand. He then ducks down and grabs the middle rope, using it as he pulls himself through the ropes, driving his shoulder into Niobe’s stomach. Popping back up, Cashe then pulls Niobe in and wraps an arm around the top of her head and grabs onto the back of her pants with his other hand. Holding Niobe in place, Cashe then delivers two solid knee strikes through the ropes and into her midsection. Driving his feet into the apron, Cashe then lifts Niobe off her feet for a suplex.

VASSA: ”Wait a second!”

JOHNSON: ”She’s got the bottom rope!”

With her foot, Niobe catches the bottom rope, preventing Cashe from lifting her any further. Her weight then drops as her feet land safely on the canvas. With her arm also hooked over Cashe’s head, Niobe quickly grabs the back of his pants to hold him in place and she rams two knees into his stomach. Using all of her strength, she then lifts Cashe straight into the air before falling back and dropping him to the canvas with a suplex.

JOHNSON: ”Just when you think Cashe has her right where he wants her, Niobe counters with a suplex of her own.”

VASSA: ”He’s throwing everything at her and she just isn’t backing down one bit.”

On her feet, Niobe stands back as Cashe slowly begins to climb to his. Just as he stands, Niobe charges in and levels him with a running shoulder block. She then turns to her right and takes off for the ropes. Coming back on the rebound, she jumps up with legs extended forward, driving her feet into the side of Cashe’s head. Climbing over him, she then hooks his leg as the official slides in with the count.

ONE

.

.

TW–

Popping his shoulder up from the mat, Cashe breaks the officials count as Niobe grows with frustration. Pushing herself up, she kicks Cashe in the ribs a couple of times before reaching down and pulling him up from the mat. Holding him in place, she lays two stiff rights across his forehead before taking a couple steps back and kicking at his stomach. Catching Niobe’s foot before it makes contact, Cashe holds it in place before swinging it around and spinning her. As she fully turns around, Niobe hits Cashe with a dragon whip right across the side of the face, knocking him down to one knee. Bursting back up to her feet, Niobe then takes off for the ropes directly ahead of Cashe. Hitting the ropes and bouncing off, Niobe gains even more speed as she closes in levels Cashe with a spinning enzuigiri!

JOHNSON: ”True Nightmare!”

VASSA: ”This wasn’t the breakup that Cashe was expecting!”

JOHNSON: ”What? They’ve been broken up.”

Crawling over Cashe, Niobe goes for the pin a second time, this time with Cashe out cold in the center of the ring.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR–

VASSA: ”NNOOOO!!!”

JOHNSON: ”So close!”

Just before the officials hand could slap the mat for a third time, Cashe kicks out, pushing Niobe off of him. On both knees, Niobe looks at Cashe in shock momentarily before it quickly transitions into even more frustration. Slamming her fist down onto the mat, she uses it to push herself up. Pacing the ring, Niobe takes a moment to regain her focus before turning back to Cashe and delivering a swift kick to the side of the head. She then pulls him up to his feet and attacks with a vicious combination of kicks and punches. Leaping straight into the air, Niobe wraps both legs around Cashe’s head and delays her next action for just a short moment.

VASSA: ”Take one last whiff Cashe! This is the last time you’re going to ever smell that gumbo ever again.”

JOHNSON: ”What the hell?!”

VASSA: ”Nothing, Steve.”

Reaching up with both arms, Cashe grabs ahold of Niobe before she takes him down with a Frankensteiner. Running forward, Cashe then slams her to the mat with a sit-out powerbomb.

JOHNSON: ”BBAAAMMMM!!!”

VASSA: ”That last sniff was enough for him!”

With Niobe laid out, Cashe drops backwards to the mat, laying down himself. As both wrestlers are down, the official then begins the ten count.

“One! … Two! … Three! … Four!”

Both wrestlers show signs of life as they slowly begins to stir.

“Five! … Six!”

At the same time, the two begin to push themselves up.

“Seven! … Eight!”

Refusing to stay down, the two fight against the clock.

“Nine!”

Standing up in unison, they break the officials count just before he can reach ten.

VASSA: ”We nearly had a double count out right there but both wrestlers are back up.”

JOHNSON: ”Niobe was really doing some damage to Cashe before he turned it around with that sit-out powerbomb.”

VASSA: ”She had him in the last place he wanted to be – face down in her crotch!”

Limping towards Cashe, Niobe gets within range and throws a right hook, connecting her fist to the side of his head. Staggering back, Cashe plants his back foot and then lunges forward with a right of his own, missing as Niobe ducks underneath and delivers a shot to his ribs, forcing him to buckle over. Running to the ropes behind Cashe, Niobe hits them and comes back on the rebound before leaping forward for a bulldog. Feeling Niobe’s arm drag across the back of his head, Cashe quickly pulls himself backwards, causing Niobe to miss and fall to the mat empty handed.

In a rush, Niobe quickly pushes herself back up and as soon as she turns to face Cashe, he’s right there with a kick to her stomach. With Niobe bend over in front of him, Cashe then extends his arms out to the side before swinging them inward and slapping Niobe’s ears with a bell clap. Dropping down to one knee, Niobe cups both hands over her ears as Cashe takes a few steps back to catch his breath. Running forward, Cashe hits Niobe in the face with a running knee lift, knocking her into the air and flat on her back as she crashes against the canvas.

JOHNSON: ”Niobe’s down and it appears Cashe is getting a second wind here folks.”

VASSA: ”We’ve seen the bell clap time and time again, it truly does more damage than you’d actually think.”

JOHNSON: ”Nothing is worse than ringing ears and a throbbing headache and I can only imagine that’s what it feels like after getting the luxury of having one delivered to both ears.”

Standing back, Cashe looks on as Niobe slowly begins to climb back to her feet. His feet slowly begin to moves as she rises up to one knee. He then takes off and charges straight for Niobe as she stands up. Closing in, Cashe throws a vicious striking elbow at Niobe’s head.

VASSA: ”AAHHHH!!!”

JOHNSON: ”The Mark of Jason!”

Rolling out of the way, Niobe barely dodges the elbow as Cashe’s attack returns no reward.

VASSA: ”NNOOOO!!!”

Up to her feet, Niobe rushes in behind Cashe before he has a chance to turn around and drives an elbow into his lower back, knocking him forward and into the ropes. She then throws a forearm across the back of his neck, rattling his brain. Grabbing Cashe by the head with both hands, Niobe presses his face against the top rope before dragging him all the way to the corner, giving him rope burn on the areas of flesh not covered by the mask. Pulling his head back, Niobe then slams it face first onto the top of the turnbuckle.

Spinning Cashe around, Niobe locks onto his wrist and pulls him away from the corner. Throwing him forward, she goes to send him to the other corner across the ring before Cashe reverses the throw and sends her racing towards it instead. Crashing against the corner, Niobe bounces off and stumbles forward. Moving in with haste, Cashe then lifts her up into the air and turns them both around in the opposite direction before planting her into the canvas with a pop-up sit-down spinebuster.

JOHNSON: ”Trouble Maker!”

VASSA: ”One thing that’s always been said about Cashe.”

JOHNSON: ”This is a new move in his arsenal as he showed us two weeks ago at All Or Nothing when he put Raab away with it.”

The ring rattles for a few moments after the impact. Rolling Niobe over, Cashe pushes her legs aside before dragging himself backwards and pushing himself back to his feet. Still showing signs of life, Niobe rolls back and forth on the mat, favoring her back. Pushing herself up, Niobe refuses to give up as Cashe looks on from a distance. As she ascends, Cashe goes into predator mode and begins to slowly circle her, stalking her every move until she finally stands. Rushing in from behind, Cashe then drops her with a back to back cutter in the center of the ring.

VASSA: ”UTI BABY!!!”

JOHNSON: ”Under The Influence and I don’t know if she has enough in the tank to come back from that.”

Rolling over, Cashe covers Niobe as the official races over and drops down beside them with the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

JOHNSON: ”There you have it folks! Jason Cashe wins it here tonight and takes down another long term 4CW veteran in back to back weeks.”

VASSA: ”There isn’t a single person on this roster who has been here as long as him now. What’s he going to do now?”

Rising to his feet, Cashe stands triumphant over Niobe as the official steps in beside him and raises his arm high above his head.

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

POWERS: ”Here is your winner, JASON CCAASSHHEE!!!”

Ripping his arm away from the official, Cashe then kneels down at Niobe’s feet. Grabbing her foot, he lifts it into the air before undoing her strings.

VASSA: ”What the hell is he doing?!”

JOHNSON: ”Maybe he’s tying her boots for her?”

VASSA: ”Lacing them up more like it!”

With her strings undone on the one boot, Cashe then pulls it off of her foot before dropping her foot back to the mat. He then grabs her other foot and repeats the process.

JOHNSON: ”He’s taking Niobe’s boots off.”

VASSA: ”I don’t know why. He can’t fit into those.”

JOHNSON: ”Just like Raab’s mask, he’s now taking Niobe’s boots.”

VASSA: ”Maybe he’s going to give them to Queef. We all know how cheap he can be.”

Dropping Niobe’s other naked foot to the floor, Cashe now has both of her boots in hand as he slowly rises to his feet. Tying the strings of them together, he then rosses one over his shoulder before letting them hang.

JOHNSON: ”What are you doing, Cashe? You can’t take the poor girls boots.”

VASSA: ”You say that but I believe he just did.”

With a snicker, Cashe backs away from Niobe as the official looks on, confused at what is happening before his eyes. Dipping through the ropes, Cashe then heads for the ramp, leaving the ring behind him as he holds the boots high above his head like a trophy earned in battle.

As we cut backstage, Perry Wallace comes into focus walking the halls with a duffle bag in hand and a few bodies of security trailing behind. With his phone to his ear, he walks without a care in the world, but on a mission.

WALLACE: ”If you want it, then order it. This is going to be your day and honestly, I don’t care what the cost is.”

Turning the corner, Perry and company approach the locker room area.

WALLACE: ”Nope! It doesn’t matter where we have it, just as long as the hotel suite is perfect to consummate that big beautiful ass.”

Continuing down the hall, the group make their way towards the end.

WALLACE: ”Damn right! Now look it, I have some business I need to attend to here. I’ll call you after and we’ll go over some of the floral arrangements you picked out.”

Stopping in his tracks, Wallace checks the number beside the door before looking back to the security team with a slow nod.

WALLACE: ”I love you too. Since you’re not here with me tonight, send me some pics of you in that sexy little number I picked up for you the other day.”

Extending his arm, Perry fist bumps with a member of the security team.

WALLACE: ”Ooohhhhhh! Videos are even better! Surprise me, I’ll talk to you later doll.”

After pressing his finger to the phone to end the call, he places it in his pocket before taking a few deep breaths in silence. Leaning his head back, he looks at the ceiling before breaking the silence.

WALLACE: ”Alright, let’s do this.”

Looking back to the door, he slowly raises his closed fist before knocking lightly against the surface.

Knock! Knock!

Perry then swings his arm around, slamming the duffle bag in a security members chest before releasing it and folding his hands one over the other in front of his waist.

NEVAEH: ”Bout fucking time that pizza gets here. I got the munchies like a motha…”

Sativa opens the locker room door and stops mid sentence upon seeing Perry standing there with his goon squad.

NEVAEH: ”Oh, it’s just you. The fuck you and your goons want?”

WALLACE: ”Goons?”

Perry says as he slowly looks back to them with a smirk on his face. He then turns back to Sativa with his arms slightly extended to his sides, shrugging his shoulders.

WALLACE: ”Settle down, it’s okay. I come in peace! Mind if we come in for a moment? I’d like to discuss something with you that I think will come as a surprise. And no, I’m not here to fire anyone tonight.”

Cocking his head to the side, he laughs with a wink of the eye as he playfully points at Sativa. She sighs and rolls her eyes.

NEVAEH: ”Yeah I guess, come on.”

Sativa moves back and opens the door all the way letting them in. She goes back to the chair she was sitting in. Also present in her locker room was her entourage, Eric Lee, Ashe Corvin, and her husband Burn.

WALLACE: ”Give me that back.”

Reaching back, Perry grabs the duffle bag before raising his other hand up to signal the security team to stand back. Stepping through the doorway, Perry scans over the locker room before turning to Sativa and approaching her. Stopping just a few feet in front of her, he extends his arm before dropping the bag in front of her feet.

WALLACE: ”I just want to say congratulations on the victory at All Or Nothing. I was surprised when I heard that you were actually here tonight.”

NEVAEH: ”I wasn’t booked sure, but I’m still here to lend moral, support and if needed backup for my crew.”

She looks down at the bag and nudges it with her toe.

NEVAEH: ”Thanks, I guess. The fuck is this?”

Crossing his arm over the other and rubbing his goatee, Perry pauses for a short moment, leaving Sativa to wonder even more about the bags contents. With his hand open, he extends his arm in motion as he speaks.

WALLACE: ”Well, that’s a very good question.”

Looking around the room, he locks his eyes on the XTV Championship, still covered with Dakota’s dried blood. Pointing over at it, he cuts his eyes back to Sativa.

WALLACE: ”That was one hell of a match you had at All Or Nothing. That and your match at Winter Wasteland. The two of those together really gave memories of what that championship used to be in its glory days. Blood everywhere as far as the eye can see, and the scars to match that each and every person who ever competed for paid as a toll.”

NEVAEH: ”And that is exactly what I said I was gonna do, wasn’t it? I said that when I got my hands on this title I would take it back to those days. The days where you bought this title with blood.”

Sativa grabs the XTV title and drapes it over her shoulder. She smirks seeing the dried blood on it. She once again eyes the bag at her feet before looking at Wallace.

NEVAEH: ”I ask again, the fuck is in that bag?”

WALLACE: ”Oh, it’s nothing.”

Looking down to the bag, Perry softly chuckles before looking back to Sativa.

WALLACE: ”You did exactly what you said you were going to do. After Fright Night in twenty-fifteen, the championship had evolved once again. Even before that, it originally was introduced as an extreme oriented championship that was defended at each and every show. Sort of similar to the set up now, just more often.”

Looking to the XTV Championship, he stares at it for a short moment in silence, remembering everything that championship has been through over the years.

WALLACE: ”Back then, hell, we had to change the defending outlines because truth be told, we were worried about the safety of the talent. That’s when it became known as just the Extreme Championship and an era of absolute violence and bloodshed was introduced. The man you beat two weeks ago made that belt what it was and is today. Then Jason Cashe wins it in late twenty-fifteen and destroyed it piece by piece. Now we have that chunk or leather and metal over your shoulder today. We tried going back to the roots of the championship somewhat, creating the XTV Championship which is defended every other event. That was all well and good for a while, but if I’m being honest, the people want to see more of the shit we saw at the last two pay-per-views.”

NEVAEH: ”I know the history of that belt. I was here back when it went through the first change. I know you probably like to forget that fact, that’s alright though. So, I guess with you gettin’ all misty eyed and in your feels over my title that there is some kind of change coming to it? How you gonna try and screw me outta this title?”

Sativa crosses her arms and looks directly at Perry. She raises and eyebrow almost challenging him to do something.

WALLACE: ”Now that you put it like that, there is a change coming to it. I’m here to relieve you of that XTV Championship you’re toting around. It’s like deja vu, isn’t it?”

Sativa is instantly on her feet, her face red with rage.

NEVAEH: ”This is fucking BULL SHIT! I’m sorry your bitch lost at All or Nothing!”

Shaking his head, Perry smiles before responding.

WALLACE: ”The least you could have done is pick the bag up before standing. Come on now! I’m not always an asshole. Over the last two pay-per-views you reminded me what the extreme division in 4CW was all about. It isn’t that strap you’re holding now. There was a time when the people who battled for the remnants of that XTV Championship were portrayed as gladiators. You had a vision for what you wanted the XTV Championship to be, correct?”

Calming down a bit Sativa takes a deep breath.

NEVAEH: ”Of course I did. I said as much at almost every opportunity.”

Looking down to the bag once more, Perry rubs his goatee before looking back up to Sativa.

WALLACE: ”Well… what are you waiting for? Go for it.”

Sativa sighs and reaches down for the bag. She does so in a way as to keep her eyes on Perry the entire time. She grabs the bag and starts to straighten up but stops for a second. A look of confusion crosses her face once the bag is off the ground. She looks down at the bag that is obviously heavier than she expected.

NEVAEH: ”I swear to god if this a bag full of coke just to get me fired again…”

She unzips the bag and looks inside and her entire demeanor changes. She slips a slender hand into the bag and pulls out a brand new title belt. She drops the empty bag and turns the title over in her hands to look at it. It catches the light and we can see it is a new version of the old 4CW Extreme Title. This time it is all silver and blue.

She absently holds out the old XTV title to Perry, never taking her eyes off of her new belt.

Reaching forward and grabbing the XTV Championship, Perry then tucks it underneath his arm with a smile on his face.

WALLACE: ”Here you were thinking that I was out to get you. You should really lighten up and take this target off my back. Just so you know though, if that was a bag of coke, it wouldn’t be to get you fired.”

Looking around the room for laughs, Perry is quickly disappointed with the silence.

WALLACE: ”Anyway… It’s time to bring a level of violence back to 4CW that we’ve been missing out on for quite some time, over a year in fact. Sure, we’ve had some brutal matches since the change over to the XTV, but none like before when the Extreme Championship was paid for with blood. And look on the bright side! We’re going back to the roots here. There won’t be a championship defense in two weeks, unless something magically comes up between now and then. However, there will be something big in store for South Beach Brawl, you can bet on that!”

NEVAEH: ”As long as there is blood to be spilt I don’t care. Now, do me a favor. Get the fuck out. I have to get ready for something. Eric, grab my makeup bag.”

Sativa dismissively waves Perry away, not once looking away from her title.

WALLACE: ”You got it, but seriously, try to lighten up a bit. I’m really not that bad of a guy.”

With the XTV belt underneath his arm, he shrugs his shoulders before cautiously turning around and heading for the door. As he steps into the hall, the door quickly slams behind him, startling him as the thunderous sound echoes throughout the hall.

WALLACE: ”WHAT THE FUCK!!!”

Heading back to the ring, it’s now covered with a black drape. In the middle of the ring sits a table complete with a pack of Uno cards. Standing already in the ring, is an actual referee; surely in the midst of rethinking the path his life went down as he prepares to officiate an Uno Game. Not long, “Blessings” by Big Sean hits as the fans begin to for the most part boo. Except for the ever faithful Wet for Jett section, whose screams can nearly be heard over the boos. Out comes Jett Wilder, suspiciously without Luiz or his mother, Carmella.

JOHNSON: ”Do not change the channel, this is still Adrenaline. Up next we have Jett Wilder versus Persephone Marquis in an Uno card game…”

VASSA: ”No Carmella here tonight. If rumors are true, I think I know why..”

Jett, looking just as focused as he would be for any other match, as he goes to enter the ring. Walking past the crowd, not taking his eyes off that squared circle. That squared circle, of course, being the deck of Uno cards. He steps into the ring, walking over picking up the deck and shaking it to make sure it’s official. He takes a seat on his side of the table, glaring up at the top of the ramp as “Loyal” by Chris Brown starts up.

Persephone Marquis wastes no time coming down the ramp toward the ring, adorned with a shirt that claims her to be “Jett’s New Daddy”. She enters the ring. Smirking at Jett, she takes her seat as the music dies down. She presses her thumb to her nose, wagging her fingers as she sticks out her tongue at him, looking like a pig.

Jett Wilder glares across the table, doing his best to ignore the taunts of Marquis as he hoists up a microphone.

J WILDER: ”Referee can you please get her under control. And are we playing official Uno Association of the World rules.”

Jett, trying his best to just get down to business before Marquis can get into his head, rushes the words out. He makes an attempt to reach for the deck, but Marquis snatches it and hands it to the ref before grabbing the microphone herself.

MARQUIS: ”Just a second, what are the ‘official’ rules? Because I only play in stacks. And you made up that Uno association shit, didn’t you?”

J WILDER: ”It’s a serious organization! And if you don’t know the rules, it’s not my problem. Should’ve studied up.”

MARQUIS: ”Well, I’m not playing unless I know the rules! I swear to God, I’ll quit again right now.”

Jett shakes his head annoyed by her lack of knowledge of the official rules however the referee steps up to the microphone to calm the situation down.

REFEREE: ”Yeah, the rules are the same…as you are used to.”

Jett rolls his eyes but nods his head in agreement, as he quickly snaps the microphone back from the referee.

J WILDER: ”You need to shuffle referee, Marquis can’t be trusted…We know how she is! Looks like a friend, but betrays you.”

Jett throwing some shade as the referee looking miserable being in between these two starts to shuffle.

MARQUIS: ”I wouldn’t call it a betrayal, honestly. If anything, you should be thanking me for making the distraction. Were the intentions good? Not, really, but it all worked out in the end! Be happy!”

Jett isn’t happy at all, as it can be seen by the cold glare he shoots Marquis, who just smiles in response. Jett grinds his teeth in anger before snapping toward the ref.

J WILDER: ”Are you done shuffling yet?!”

The referee sighs heavily, closing his eyes and gathering himself before he snaps. He begins to deal out the cards and he really should’ve stayed in medical school. He would be happier, have children, a whole family of his own to worry about, and he wouldn’t be dealing cards to an Uno game for two grown ass brats.

The two brats in question grab their cards, organizing them immediately. Marquis is grinnng ear to ear, visibly satisfied with the cards in her hands. Her eyes dart to Jett and she attempts to look at hs cards, only to have Jett bring them closer to his chest, scowling at her. Marquis laughs and settles back into her seat.

The referee puts down the deck and flips the first card over. A Green nine.

MARQUIS: ”You ready to get your ass beat?”

J WILDER: ”Who goes first, ref?”

REFEREE: ”Jett goes first because he’s the youngest, as per the official rules of the Uno Association of the World.”

MARQUIS: ”That has to be a lie, where the fuck are these rules?”

Sick of hearing Marquis’ shrill, annoying voice, Jett plays his card. Throwing down a yellow seven, the crowd is either really invested in this. Or having already gotten up to head to concessions minutes ago. Not wasting any time at all Marquis’s confidently tosses a card down, the two going back and forth for a moment before Jett tosses down a draw two card.

J WILDER: ”DRAW TWO!”

Reacting like a big move was just hit, the fans boo Jett’s big maneuver. As he kicks back enjoying watching Marquis having to go to the deck for the cards.

J WILDER: ”Oh and while you dig for those, I want you to think long and hard about what you threw away at All or Nothing.”

Marquis rolls her eyes, organizing her cards once more as Jett throws down another card. She responds by throwing a skip, making a big deal to really be sure that it was her turn once again. She shrugs, throwing down two reverses, which is a useless card because there’s only two people playing. Which, honestly, is what they’re used to, when you take into consideration that neither of them have handfuls of friends.

MARQUIS: ”Your turn! Oh, and by the way, the only thing that I lost at All or Nothing was the opportunity to see you fail hilariously. Looking back, it wasn’t as funny as I pictured it in my head, but that’s because you won. If you lost? We’d both be laughing about it right now.”

Jett shakes his head, not agreeing at all with her assessment. As he tosses down another card, before she volleys back with a quick skip to card combo. Which promptly causes Jett to angrily throw down his draw four wild, earlier than he probably planned.

J WILDER: ”Draw four and the color is blue! Oh and funny? What is funny about you costing me one of the biggest matches of my career. That isn’t funny. And you know what else is not? You starting these rumors about you and my mom.”

Letting out all his frustrations on his former, babysitter turned enemy as the cards have noticeably started to dwindle on both sides even with Marquis having to draw four giving Jett the slight lead.

MARQUIS: ”Rumors? They’re not rumors, Jett. Stop denying me my glory and take note of my shirt. I’m your father now, okay?”

Marquis throws down a plus two, smiling as politely as possible.

MARQUIS: ”Now Daddy says to pick up two cards. Think you can do that, sport?”

Looking ready to stand up and throw hands the referee inches closer as Jett angrily grabs two cards from the deck. Though he looks at them without much anger. As he tosses down a reply as the two go back and forth quickly down to two cards a piece of Marquis replies by using her second to last one. Holding it up to taunt him with it.

MARQUIS: ”Uno.”

Jett, looking nervous now, shakes his head while rubbing his hands along his head.

J WILDER: ”You are not my dad, and you are not going to win. I am going to beat you at Uno. I am going to beat you at Foosball. And I am going to beat you in a match just for fun as well. You never showed me any respect! You cost me my match, you…you…you started those rumors about my mom. Our friendship is dead…”

Jett tosses down his second to last card that he had waiting during his angry rant.

J WILDER: ”UNO!”

As the moment of silence now strikes, each with one final card now as Jett stands up the stress of the moment getting to him as Marquis maintains her best poker face. She looks down at the suit of the game, sighing heavily and shaking her head as she goes to draw from the deck. Luck isn’t on her side. Jett looks proud, as if he’s already won the game, but he frowns once again when Marquis begins to talk when she stops and looks at the card to throw next, shaking her head once again; knowing the match is lost. She looks at Jett.

MARQUIS: ”Our friendship is dead, huh? Well, anything worth keeping is never risked.”

With that, she throws down a red one, which Jett answers with a Wild Card; winning the game and the Uno match.

The crowd erupts in boos, alerting the ref, who had been on his phone the whole time. The Wet for Jett section is going crazy when the ref studies the situation, nodding and calling for the bell. With Jett’s hand being raised in the air, Powers names him the official winner.

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

POWERS: ”Here is your winner and the FIRST Undisputed Uno Champion of 4CW…. The FUTURE AMAZING GREAT GREATNESS OVER TIME… JETT WWIILLDDEERR!!!”

With a loud shriek of a scream in victory Jett bounces around the ring, jumping for joy. Having bested his rival in the first of their best of three series. Marquis shakes her head frustrated by having to watch him celebrate as he looks as happy as he day he won his Pride Championship.

VASSA: ”What a great Uno match this was, Jett overcomes all the odds.”

JOHNSON: ”What are you talking about Vassa? It was a damn Uno match, was a waste of time. And next week we’ll have to watch them go head to head in foosball.”

Marquis exits the ring, having to walk past the cheering Wet for Jett section as Jett falls to his knees in the ring. Holding up his arms in victory, looking more than thrilled to have pulled through in this epic Uno contest.

UNDERCARD
PARIS VS. AMBER RYAN

VASSA: ”Up next, we have the lovely Amber Ryan, a woman who I have wanted to see compete in 4CW for a VERY long time.”

JOHNSON: ”She’s made quite the name for herself in other promotions, even making a few appearances here and there in 4CW last year.”

VASSA: ”She’s here all alone now and competing. No more Unstable – just her fiery red-headed self who I can’t stop looking at whenever she’s around.”

JOHNSON: ”You literally can’t stop looking at any female in the ring. You need to get better control of yourself.”

VASSA: ”YOU NEED TO WATCH YOUR MOUTH!!!”

The lights in the arena begin to dim, before a strobe light flashes, quickly changing through multiple, bright and dazzling colors. The stadium suddenly appears as if it’s transformed into a night club, as a steady trance beats flows through the speakers. Gimme More” By Britney Spears plays as words appear on the screen in brilliant, shimmering gold — “It’s not personal… it’s just business.” These fade out, replaced by another phrase in sparkling silver — “I ALWAYS get what I want!!”

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

The fans are already showing their hate as the lyrics slowly come through.

“It’s Paris, (I see you

And I just want to dance with you”

“Every time they turn the lights down

Just want to go that extra mile for you.

You public display of affection

Feels like no one else in the room (but you)

We can get down like there’s no one around.We’ll keep on rockin’ (We’ll keep on rockin’)

We’ll keep on rockin’ (Keep on rockin’)

Cameras are flashin’ while we’re dirty dancin’.

They keep watching (They keep watching) Keep watching”

POWERS: ”Coming to the ring first, weighing in at one hundred twenty pounds and standing five feet, seven inches tall! She is the ‘Beautiful Nightmare’… PPAARRIISS!!!”

Golden sparks begin to rain down over the stage. She wears a fancy, fashionable robe, made of golden lace, with a golden cowl. Faith stands behind her, waving a giant, royal fan in her direction. The beat intensifies, as the voice rings out once again.

“Gimme, Gimme more Gimme, More Gimme, Gimme, More

Gimme, Gimme more, Gimme, More Gimme, Gimme, More

Gimme, Gimme more Gimme, More Gimme, Gimme, More

Gimme, Gimme more Gimme, More Gimme, Gimme, More”

Paris throws her shoulders back, before acting as if she’s going to kiss a young fan. But the self-proclaimed ‘Greek Goddess’ pulls away at the last second, leaving the fan to curse at her and later write it down in his feelings journal. She then walks toward the ring steps, taking her time to raise her hand to the fans, cuz the face ain’t listening. She orders The ring boy to hold the middle rope down, which she does, and Paris steps through… Paris stands tall in the center of the ring, blowing a kiss out wiggles her Fingers as she waves to Crowd to the fans, before smiling egotistically to herself.

POWERS: ”And the opponent!”

It’s the tinkling of the eerie music box that brings the lights down as “Shatter Me” by Lindsey Stirling begins to play, the crowd murmuring with anticipation, as slowly and silently the big screens seems to crack one by one until Lzzy Hale’s vocals cue shadows to dance across the shattered surfaces.

“I pirouette in the dark, I see the stars through a mirror

Tired mechanical heart, beats till the song disappears”

Squealing violin cuts through the building tension, lights pulsing in red like an erratic heartbeat

“Somebody shine a light, I’m frozen by the fear in me

Somebody make me feel alive then shatter me!

So cut me from the line, dizzy spinning endlessly

Somebody make me feel alive then shatter me!”

As the bass drops, a female silhouette almost materializes atop the aisle drawing a mixed reaction from the crowd.

POWERS: ”Coming to the ring next, from Atlantic City, New Jersey! Weighing in at one hundred forty-two pounds and standing five feet, eight inches tall! She is the ‘Distorted Angel’… AMBER RRYYAANN!!!”

Most cheer in appreciation of the show that they’re about to witness but many jeer due to her previous affiliations and general devil-just-doesn’t-give-a-fuck attitude.

Dubstep violin leads Amber down the ramp, a few fans extend hands but receive little acknowledgement for their efforts. She circles the ring, messing with whichever ring crew and staff that happen to be within vicinity before methodically and deliberately sliding beneath the bottom rope and crossing to one of the far corners.

Climbing the turnbuckle left handed, she watches out over the crowd to gauge the reaction, returning the mixed reaction with an acknowledging nod of her own before somewhat turning awkwardly on the spot and taking a seat upon the top turnbuckle with hands clasped and elbows resting on her knees- that familiar Distorted Angel smirk ever present across her face.

VASSA: ”There she is, Amber Ryan just moments before competing in her first 4CW event. This is exciting!”

JOHNSON: ”I can’t disagree with you there. Her signing with 4CW was a huge signing for the company. I’m just as thrilled as you are to see her in action.”

VASSA: ”She doesn’t look too impressed with Paris across the ring, and the theatrics that came along with her entrance.”

Cutting her eyes across the ring, Amber cuts through Paris before pushing herself down from the corner with her smirk still present. Slowly shaking her head, Amber softly laughs to herself as Paris looks on, unaware that she’s being laughed at.

JOHNSON: ”I’m not too familiar with Paris. We’ve seen this time and time again. A new person walks through the doors just begging for attention.”

VASSA: ”I just hope she’s ready for the attention that Amber is going to throw her way.”

JOHNSON: ”For her sake, she just better hope it doesn’t involve a mouth full of tacks.”

VASSA: ”I still laugh to this day at what she did to Perry.”

In the center of the ring, the official checks in with Paris first who hesitates for a moment before giving him a thumbs up. He then turns to Amber who stretches herself pulling on the top rope. Whipping her head to the side and throwing her hair behind her head, Amber slaps her hands together before pointing both of them at Paris with devilish grin on her face. Accepting that as a signal that she’s ready, the official then calls for the bell before clearing a direct path between the two ladies.

DING!!! DING!!!

Before the bell silences, Amber loosely bounces back and forth, working her way towards the center of the ring. As if she were preparing for a boxing match, Amber’s feet don’t rest for a single second. Waving for Paris to exit her corner, Amber taunts her, eager to get her first piece of action inside of a 4CW ring.

VASSA: ”Tonight is a big night for both ladies. This is their 4CW debut match and a win for either is very important.”

JOHNSON: ”A statement can be made in someone’s first match. The question is, which one will make the biggest statement here tonight?”

Intimidated, Paris remains in her corner, hesitant to leave it as she stares across the ring at Amber. As if she were prey, Amber doesn’t take her eyes off Paris. Calling for Paris to leave for corner again, Amber yells a bit louder, more fierce than before. Still, Paris remains in her corner, not even considering stepping any closer to Amber.

JOHNSON: ”After the grand entrance, she follows up with this?”

VASSA: ”Maybe she has stage fright? 4CW is a pretty big stage to compete on.”

JOHNSON: ”She knew that before she signed a contract, or at least she should have.”

VASSA: ”If Paris was that dumb to sign without knowing, at least she has her body to get her through life, or at least to her thirties.”

Turning to the official, Amber holds her arms out to the side as the camera zooms in to read her lips as she says “what the fuck?” In return, the official just shrugs his shoulders. Refusing to waste another second, Amber then turns to Paris and charges at her full speed. Closing in, she goes for Paris’ head with a double axe-handle but slams her fists onto the turnbuckle as Paris bolts out of harms way. Rushing across the ring, Paris flees to another corner. Shaking her head in disappointment, Amber then turns to face her, surprised at how quickly she was able to clear the entire ring.

Closing her fist, Amber then holds the wrist attached with her other hand before stepping away from the corner. Methodically, Amber moves closer and closer to Paris, keeping an equal distance of canvas on each side of her in case Paris tries to flee once more. When within a few feet, Amber then charges forward but Paris quickly guns it and takes off to the side. Grabbing a handful of hair, Amber stops Paris in her tracks before pulling her back and throwing her into the corner.

Amber then squares Paris up and goes into boxing mode as she throws lefts and rights, pounding away at Paris’ head and body. After connecting with a savage combination, Amber takes a step back before bouncing back and forth on her feet. Lunging forward, Paris throws an ugly punch for Amber’s head. Spinning out of the way, Amber connects with an elbow to the back of Paris’ head as she passes by, sending her stumbling face first to the canvas.

VASSA: ”Come on Paris! You have to do better than that!”

JOHNSON: ”She looks scared.”

Pushing herself up to all fours, Paris shakes it off before rising to her feet. Zipping by Paris, Amber hits the ropes in front of her and comes back even faster on the rebound, laying her out with a running clothesline that completely flips her while in the air. Pulling Paris up from the mat, Amber then whips her to the nearest corner. Crashing against the corner, Paris drops down to a seated position with her arms stretched along the middle ropes. Charging in at full speed, Amber demolishes Paris’ face with a running knee.

JOHNSON: ”Someone throw in the damn towel. This girl can’t even defend herself.”

VASSA: ”Oh no, look what Amber did to her face!”

At Amber steps away, the camera gets a clear show of Paris’ face, the bottom half covered in blood as the red fluid pours from her nose.

VASSA: ”There’s blood in the water now.”

JOHNSON: ”More like blood smeared across the layers of makeup Paris thought would be a good idea to put on before her match.”

Amber drags Paris away from the corner, kicking and screaming, and leaving a trail of blood reaching from the corner to the center of the ring. Pulling Paris up to her feet, Amber helps her get settled before grabbing her face and yelling directly into it. “Hit me!” her lips read as the camera zooms in. Unsure of what to do, Paris just holds her hands over her nose, trying her best to contain the blood from spilling onto the canvas at her feet.

Growing irritated by the lack of fight Paris has, Amber draws back and swings as hard as she can, slapping Paris across the face. Covering her head as best as she can, the screams can be heard coming from Paris as she’s terrified. Amber then slaps her again and again, this time hitting Paris’ arms as she has her head shielded. Amber then slams her hand into Paris’ chest, pushing her back a step. Yelling for Paris to hit her, Amber pushes and pushes.

Realizing she has no other choice, Paris pulls her hand away from her face and swings for Amber’s head. Swatting Paris’ hand to the side, Amber then fires back with a solid open hand strike to Paris’ nose. Stumbling backwards, Paris hits the ropes and bounces back in Amber’s direction. Kicking her foot up as Paris closes in, Amber plants it in her stomach, forcing her to buckle over from the impact. Amber then pulls Paris’ head underneath her arm before hooking both of hers. In the blink of an eye, Amber then plants Paris’ head into the canvas with a double underhook kickout DDT!

JOHNSON: ”If I’m correct, Amber likes to call that the Original Sin.”

VASSA: ”It’s a damn sin that this is the best fight that Paris could give us tonight.”

Rolling Paris over to her back, Amber nonchalantly makes the cover as the official races in for the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

VASSA: ”Jesus Christ, Paris is going to be traumatized for life after this experience.”

JOHNSON: ”With that effort, she was better off just staying at home.”

“Shatter Me” hits the speakers as Amber rises to her knees. Wiping Paris’ blood from various parts of her body that came in contact, Amber smears it across the clean parts of Paris’ gear. She then stands to her feet as the official steps in beside her, raising her arm in victory.

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

POWERS: ”Here is your winner, AMBER RRYYAANN!!!”

Pulling her arm away from the official, Amber just shakes her head in disappointment as she looks down to Paris covered in her own blood. She then looks over the crowd, before rushing to the corner and jumping up to the middle ropes. With her arms extended, Amber plays to the crowd as the noise level in the arena grows louder and louder.

JOHNSON: ”Things might not have turned out great for Paris, but Amber has made quite the debut here tonight.”

VASSA: ”Quite the debut? She fucking wrecked Paris out there. It was a damn homicide we just witnessed.”

JOHNSON: ”Let’s just hope that management throws some competition her way at the next show because this was a walk in the park for Amber.”

VASSA: ”Rest in piss, Paris.”

The lights go out and ”BRaCKiSH” by Kittie starts up. A spotlight finds Sativa Nevaeh standing at the top of the entrance ramp with the 4CW Extreme Championship draped over her shoulder. She stares almost vacantly out at the crowd, A black light illuminates her face causing her sugar skull makeup to glow. She slowly starts to make her way to the ring.

“She is not scared to die..

The best things in life drive her to cry.

Crucify then learn..”

Sativa slowly makes her way toward the ring. She ignores the jeers and hate from the crowd. She makes a circuit of the ring looking out at the crowd the entire time. She then rolls under the bottom rope into the ring and leans over the ropes to get a mic from a crew member.

NEVAEH: ”I did it.”

The crowd hits her with a surprisingly mixed reaction. She smiles and chuckles then adjusts the title on her shoulder.

NEVAEH: ”I said once I got this title I would return it to it’s former glory. Every match that this title has been in, since I won it, as been brutal and bloody. Something they haven’t been in a long, long time. The title was renamed back to the Extreme Title. No more of that Television, slash, XTV bullshit. This title right here…”

Sativa holds the title belt up over her head.

NEVAEH: ”…was reborn through the blood that I fed it. It called to me. It said it needed blood to rise from the ashes. So I fed it the blood of the convict. The blood of that pathetic waste of space. But the belt was not satisfied. It still needed more. I I went to the best source I could think of. The blood of one of it’s greatest founding fathers. The Butcher Dakota Smith. I hung him, after giving his blood to the belt.”

She puts the belt back over her shoulder and grins wickedly.

NEVAEH: ”Through my path of blood the Extreme Title has come back again. Just like I said it would. Gone are the every other show defenses in the weak matches. Back are the grand, bloody, gladiatorial fights. The title is hungry in it’s new incarnation. It needs more blood. But that is a problem. Who on the roster is worthy enough? I have taken down the Butcher and the Monster. The convict has fallen before me as well as his wanna be hit man. Who is left to step up and challenge me for my 4CW Extreme Title? Who?”

The arena’s light suddenly go out as a white spotlight shines down on Sativa. A loud, familiar, piercing laugh fills the arena before the spotlight shuts off causing the arena to go dark again. Piercing laughter fills the arena once more before all of the lights come back on. White cloaked followers surround the ring while Viduus Morta stands behind Sativa. The white cloaks point at Sativa as Viduus stands behind her with his head cocked sideways. Feeling that something stood behind her Sativa slowly turned around to see Viduus, lips still sewn shut, smiling at her. The lights go dark once more and when they come back the ring is empty except for Sativa still just standing there looking around all four sides of the ring suspecting an attack.

Something begins to fall rapidly from the ceiling. A long noose with an exact replica dummy of Sativa wearing her championship belt drops before her eyes. It sways back and forth with X’s in place of the eyes, her mouth sewn shut, and her belt upside down around the dummy’s waist. Viduu’s signature laughs fills the air before a whisper speaks out…

“You belong to us now.”

Sativa looks around for a few more moments before punching the dummy and screaming in frustration.

As we cut backstage we see Gabriel Hartman standing by with none other than Scott Stevens who is pacing like a cage lion next to Hartman.

HARTMAN: ”Ladies and gentleme………ah!”

Stevens takes the microphone from Hartman and shoves him out of the way. If you’ve never seen anger before just take a look on the Texan’s face right now.

STEVENS: ”Eli, I tried to show you that you have earned my respect by walking out there earlier tonight by look you in the eyes like a man and shake your hand and tell you you were the better man at All or Nothing, but you didn’t want it did you?”

Stevens asks as he tightens his grip on the microphone.

STEVENS: ”You don’t want my respect, fine. You think I was lucky against you?”

Stevens stares at the camera with raged fill eyes.

STEVENS: ”I want you to see how lucky I get tonight Eli as I luck my way through this tournament and face you once again at South Beach Brawl and when it happens you won’t be so lucky as you were at All or Nothing.”

Stevens says trying to maintain his composure.

STEVENS: ”And as far as you go Alexis, but sorry about your luck because unfortunately you’re victim number one as you’rE in the wrong place at the wrong time. “

Stevens says before he goes to leave but stops and looks back towards the camera.

STEVENS: ”Hope you’re watching champ because I’m coming for you.”

Stevens warns before tossing the mic back to Hartman.

UNDERCARD
KIBA BUNSON VS. CYRUS RIDDLE

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

The guitar riff begins in “The Red” by Chevelle as the lights dim and the screens come to life with images of Kiba staring off in the distance looking generally angry. These images are on the left and right-most screens while the center brandishes a simple “Burner” title in the center. Red strobes cross over the top of the ramp and the song begins.

“They say freak,

“When you’re singled out,

“The Red,

“Well it filters through.”

Kiba steps out through the curtain and begins to walk to the ring as the rest continues on.

“So lay down,

“The threat is real,

“When his sight,

“Goes red again.”

POWERS: ”Coming to the ring first, from Las Vegas, Nevada! Weighing in at two hundred twenty-five pounds and standing six feet, two inches tall… KIBA BBUUNNSSOONN!!!”

As he makes it about three quarters of the way down, he paces back and forth, staring at the ring while rotating his shoulders. He seems to be eyeing something. As he gives a snarl, he runs to the ring, diving under the bottom rope and sliding in, getting as far as he can before pushing his body up and giving a menacing look to the front-most crowd. He gets to his feet as he paces the ring, looking at the same crowd before backing into his corner.

POWERS: ”And the opponent!”

Lights within the arena are killed as static fills the sound system and “Alpha and Omega” by King 810 begins to play subsequently.

“Welcome to the truth

God made me in his image

Who the fuck made you?

You want my voice from me?

You can have it, just know

I sound like this because the Devil has my throat.”

From behind the curtain, Cyrus Riddle emerges. With a black bandana wrapped around his face and a Kylla custom hooded leather vest decorated in blood splatter with two switchblades going through his initials designed on the back, he stands firm and examines the crowd with all to be seen on his face being his gaze. He holds up two fingers to the crowd with his arms outstretched before making his walk to the ring.

POWERS: ”Making his way to the ring. He weighs in at two hundred and thirty pounds and hails from New York City by way of London, England. He is the Archetype! The Impaler! CYRUS RRIIDDDDLLEE!!!”

Cyrus approaches the ring with a confidence in his steps, accompanied only by the subtle hints of methodical approach as if to be zeroed in on a victim.

“Bitch! I am the powers that be!

I am Christ crucified on the T!

I am the alphaaaaa!

And the omegaaaaa!”

Cyrus’ ascends the middle outside turnbuckle as the chorus begins to play, pulling the bandana from his face and throwing the hood backward only to mouth the next part in imitation of the lyrics.

“I’m the Messiah, the gnashing of teeth

No one meets death until they see me!

I am the Alphaaaaa! And the Omegaaaaa!”

His trademark smirk followed by a tongue glide along his bottom lip can be seen as he looks around the arena and jumps down to climb between the top and middle ropes. In the middle of the ring, he removes his vest slowly to reveal his heavily tattooed body and physique, not without that always evident bit of arrogance. He tosses the jacket over to the ring attendant and stands in the corner calmly, awaiting.

JOHNSON: ”There he is folks, Cyrus Riddle and his return to a 4CW ring.”

VASSA: ”I’ve been excited for the last two weeks when this match was first announced.”

JOHNSON: ”I think everyone was surprised when he returned, more so Dakota.”

VASSA: ”Yeah, Dakota was so surprised he fell to the floor!”

JOHNSON: ”Well, Cyrus did have a helping hand in that. I heard a hammer to the back of the head will do that to people.”

VASSA: ”And if one shot doesn’t do it, feel free to take multiple shots.”

JOHNSON: ”No matter how he returned, the man is back and competing inside of a 4CW ring and has his first match with a new talent, Kiba Bunson.”

VASSA: ”Kiba debuted in the pre-show for All Or Nothing and was rather impressive if I do say so myself.”

JOHNSON: ”He’s going to have his work cut out for him tonight but after seeing what he brought to the ring two weeks ago, I think he’s going to give Cyrus one heck of a match.”

VASSA: ”He’s found success in other promotions and a win here tonight could prove that big things are ahead of this man and his future within 4CW.”

JOHNSON: ”I don’t know if many people realize it but this match could potentially steal the show.”

VASSA: ”We already know what Cyrus is capable of. We’ve seen a glimpse of what Kiba can do. I think you just may be on to something, Steve.”

In the center of the ring, the official first checks in with kiba and quickly gets the nob back in return. He then turns to Cyrus who stares back with no emotion before slowly nodding his head. With the signal from both wrestlers and everyone ready to go, the official then throws his hand into the air and signals for the bell.

DING!!! DING!!!

Exiting their corners, the two slowly approach each other until standing only a few feet apart in the center of the ring. Circling the center, the two lock eyes as the study the others movement. Striking first, shoots in for Kiba’s leg but misses as Kiba sprawls and lands on Cyrus’ back, slamming his chest to the canvas. Spinning his body around to reposition himself, Kiba moves in behind Riddle as Riddle sits up into a seated position. Reaching back and over his shoulder, Riddle locks onto the back of Kiba’s head and jerks him forward, flipping him over his body and slamming him onto his back. The two then quickly crawl in opposite directions to separate before rising back to their feet.

Circling the mat a second time, the two lunge forward, locking up. Quickly overpowering Kiba, Riddle twists Kiba’s arm and locks it behind his back. Lifting Kiba into the air, Riddle then drops him to the canvas with a suplex. Popping back to his feet, Cyrus sweeps in and drops three simultaneous knees to Kiba’s shoulder before pulling him up from the mat. With his grip firm around Kiba’s wrist, Cyrus pushes him back before pulling him into a short-arm clothesline and laying him flat on his back.

Instantly, Kiba climbs back to his feet only to get rushed as Cyrus wraps him up, locking onto him. Thrusting his knee upward, Riddle drives it into Kiba’s stomach before pushing him back a step. Stepping in, Cyrus nearly takes Kiba’s head off with three European uppercuts, knocking him senseless. Swinging blindly and in a daze, Kiba goes for Riddles head but comes up short as Riddle ducks underneath and steps in behind him. Locking Kiba in a full nelson hold, Riddle then lifts him off his feet and plants him into the mat with a suplex.

VASSA: ”Off to a hot start here tonight, Cyrus doesn’t appear to have lost a step since his last time in action.”

JOHNSON: ”The man went through a lot last summer but has spent the last few months preparing for this return.”

VASSA: ”Preparing for his return or just preparing for Dakota?”

JOHNSON: ”Whatever it is, it led him back here to 4CW.”

Pulling Kiba up from the mat, Cyrus positions himself beside him, grabbing onto him and setting him up for a Russian leg sweep. Before Cyrus can make the move to capitalize, Kiba lands a ferocious elbow into the Riddle’s face, knocking him off. Spinning around, Kiba plants his right foot into Cyrus’ shin with a swift kick. He then follows up with a left jab to Riddle’s throat, knocking him back a step and taking his breath away. Spinning around, Kiba connects with a backhand right between Cyrus’ eyes, knocking him backwards and into the ropes. Bouncing off, Riddle falls into Kiba’s arms. Lifting Riddle off his feet, Kiba spins around and plants Riddle into the canvas with a belly to belly slam.

Riddle rolls over to his side as Kiba quickly pops back up to his feet. Backing across the ring, Kiba watches from the ropes as Riddle slowly begins pushing himself up. Just as Riddle rises to one knee, Kiba races in and levels him with an enzuigiri. Crawling over Cyrus’ body, Kiba explodes with energy as he unloads on Cyrus with lefts and rights, hitting him from all directions. Spinning hos body to an adjacent position, Kiba locks onto Cyrus head and shoulder, holding him in place before driving multiple knees into the side of Riddle’s neck.

Pushing himself up, Kiba grabs ahold of Cyrus and pulls him up to his feet. Wrapping his arm around Cyrus’ head, Kiba then hooks his leg before lifting him up and over, dropping him on his back with a fisherman’s suplex. Keeping his leg hooked, Kiba bridges for the pin as the official races in with the count.

ONE

.

.

JOHNSON: ”Cyrus kicks out just before the two.”

VASSA: ”It’s going to take a little more than that to put the man down Kiba, but at this pace you’re on the right track.”

Pulling Cyrus up from the mat, Kiba throws him to the corner. Crashing against the corner, Riddle’s feet shoot into the air and as they touch down, Kiba is right there to catch him by surprise with a running clothesline. Stepping out of the way, Kiba opens a path for Cyrus to stumble forward. Running up behind Cyrus, Kiba kicks him behind the knee, forcing him to drop down to it. Sliding in front of Riddle, Kiba connects with two kicks to Riddle’s shoulder. Bursting up from one knee, Cyrus lunges as Kiba but quickly gets taken off his feet as Kiba flips him over to his back with a hip toss.

Bouncing off the mat with a thud, Cyrus rolls up to a seated position before pushing himself up. Before he can fully rise, Kiba is right there to assist him the rest of the way. Ducking down, Kiba wraps his arms around Cyrus’ waist and lifts him into the air. Taking a few steps forward, he then slams Cyrus down to the mat.

TTTHHHUUUDDD!!!

VASSA: ”Cyrus reversed it!”

Before his back hit the mat, Cyrus locked him arm around Kiba’s head and turned Kiba’s slam into a DDT of his own. Kiba’s feet shoot straight up into the air before his head bounces off the mat and body flips over, crashing back first to the mat. Pushing himself up, Cyrus circles Kiba for a short moment before moving in and pulling him up from the mat. Stepping in beside Kiba, Cyrus locks him in an abdominal stretch, cranking down on his neck tremendously. After a few moments of stretching Kiba out, Riddle releases the hold before pulling Kiba’s head back. Hooking his arm over Kiba’s face and locking it around his head, Riddle then falls back, dropping Kiba with a reverse DDT!

Rolling Kiba’s body away from him, Cyrus stands to his feet. Walking over to the shoulder he delivered three knee drops to earlier, Cyrus begins stomping on it wildly. He then jerks Kiba up from the canvas and locks both hands onto him. Driving Kiba backwards, Cyrus slams him into the corner before driving multiple knee shots into his midsection. Firing back, Kiba lands a right into Cyrus’ ribs and then follows up with an uppercut, knocking Cyrus a step back. Stepping in and grabbing onto Cyrus, Kiba then throws him into the corner with all of his strength.

Bouncing off the corner, Cyrus throws a powerful right, slamming his fist into Kiba’s face. Kiba fires back with a right of his own, catching Cyrus in the ear. Quickly favoring his ear, Cyrus doesn’t retaliate before Kiba takes another swing. Just as Kiba’s fist closes in on Cyrus’ face, Cyrus ducks underneath and wraps Kiba up, slamming him face first into the turnbuckle with an STO.

VASSA: ”OH SHIT!!!”

JOHNSON: ”I don’t know if you’ve had dinner yet but you were just served a full course meal of turnbuckle right there Kiba.”

VASSA: ”That’s enough to fill any man up, whether you’ve already had dinner or not!”

Dragging Kiba away from the corner, Cyrus then rolls him over to his back before crawling over him and making the cover.

ONE

.

.

TW–

JOHNSON: ”Nope!”

VASSA: ”Close to a two count but that’s about it.”

Not wasting any time, Riddle climbs back to his feet before pulling Kiba up from the mat. Locking his arms with Kiba’s, Cyrus traps them before laying into Kiba’s face with back to back headbutts. After the second, he slams his knee upward into Kiba’s stomach, forcing him to buckle over as he releases his arms. Hooking both of Kiba’s arms, Cyrus then lifts him off the mat and drops him back down with a double underhook suplex.

VASSA: ”Kiba slipped out!”

JOHNSON: ”Whoa!”

Slipping out of Cyrus’ hold while up in the air, Kiba rolls backwards and lands to his feet as Cyrus crashes to the mat empty handed. In a hurry, Cyrus races to get to his feet but comes to an abrupt stop as Kiba slides in with a knee to the side of his head. Locking onto Cyrus, Kiba pulls him up and quickly locks his arm around his head and grabs the back of his pants. In the blink of an eye, Kiba flips Cyrus up and over to his back with a snap suplex.

Hitting the mat, Cyrus rolls up to a seated position and just as he goes to push himself up, Kiba races in from behind and plants his foot directly into the back of Cyrus’ neck. Rolling over to his stomach, Cyrus holds onto his neck as Kiba bounces around the ring with an new found energy. Pulling Cyrus up, Kiba backs him up to the corner before slamming his back against it. Unloading with kicks and punches, Kiba targets Cyrus’ body, pounding away at him like a slab of meat.

Locking onto the top ropes with both hands, Kiba then uses then for leverage as he thrusts his knee upward, hitting Cyrus in the stomach with repeated knee strikes. After landing nearly half a dozen, Kiba releases the ropes and bounces back a few steps. Moving in, Kiba throws his foot into the air, kicking for Cyrus’ head and aiming to take it off right there in the ring.

JOHNSON: ”Cyrus has his foot!”

VASSA: ”Oh, no! This can’t be good for Kiba.”

Bursting forward and away from the corner, Cyrus throws Kiba’s foot back at him, launching him into the air and sending him crashing to the center of the ring. Hitting the mat and rolling over backwards, Kiba pushes up to his feet only to catch a mouthful of fist as Cyrus is right there with a haymaker. Kiba strikes back with a swift kick to Cyrus’ thigh only to catch another mouthful of fist as Cyrus lands a solid left. As Kiba staggers backwards, Cyrus then moves in and levels him with a jumping high knee.

VASSA: ”It looks like we have a street fight on our hands.”

JOHNSON: ”How much more can these two dish out?!”

Lifting Kiba up from the canvas, Cyrus locks onto his wrist before throwing him to the far corner. Taking off behind Kiba, Cyrus trails behind. Just before crashing into the corner, Kiba jumps forward, planting his hands on the ropes and springing himself into the air and over Cyrus head. As he clears Cyrus body and comes down, Kiba wraps an arm around Cyrus throat, locking in a sleep hold. Cyrus instantly reaches for the ropes but before he can grab them, Kiba drags him backwards and towards the center of the ring.

Squeezing tighter and tighter, Kiba slowly begins wearing Cyrus down, but still working against a great struggle as Cyrus twists and turns, trying to shake Kiba off. Reaching back with both hands, Cyrus is finally able to grab onto Kiba before pulling him while jerking his body forward and down. Kiba’s feet lift off the mat as Cyrus pulls him onto his shoulders, breaking out of the sleeper hold. Holding Kiba up on his shoulders, Cyrus quickly walks towards the corner before throwing Kiba into the air. As gravity takes hold, Kiba’s face crashes down onto the top turnbuckle.

Turning around instantly and holding his hand over his face, Kiba walks into Cyrus foot as he kicks him in the stomach, forcing him to lunge over. Stepping in, Cyrus wraps both arms around Kiba’s waist before lifting him upside down into the air. Turning his back to the corner, Cyrus then drops Kiba onto his head with a sit-down piledriver.

JOHNSON: ”Darkness Falls!”

VASSA: ”And it’s lights out for Kiba!”

Crawling over Kiba and hooking his leg, Cyrus goes for the pin as the official slides in beside them with the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

JOHNSON: ”There it is folks! Cyrus Riddle has won it here tonight in his return to 4CW competition.”

VASSA: ”This was one hell of a match between him and Kiba. It literally could have went either way.”

JOHNSON: ”Although the result wasn’t in Kiba’s favor, he should be proud of his performance here tonight.”

“Alpha and Omega” hits the speakers as Cyrus slowly rises to his feet. On the mat, Kiba slowly rolls to the edge of the ring before members of the ringside crew come over to assist with getting him down. Standing victorious, Cyrus paces the ring before coming to a stop in the center. The official then steps in beside him, raising his arm in the air as the bell sounds.

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

POWERS: ”Here is your winner, CYRU–“

Before Powers can finish announcing the winner, all of the lights go out, leaving the Mohegan Sun Arena in total darkness.

VASSA: ”AAHHH!!! What the hell?!”

JOHNSON: ”Who would have thought Darkness Falls would literally bring the venue to darkness here tonight.”

“If I live, I will kill you.”

VASSA: ”What’s that?! Hold me Steve!”

A soft voice fills the arena, growing louder and louder with a scratching sound before the words are repeated.

“If I live, I will kill you.” *Record scratch* “If I live, I will kill you.” *Record scratch* “If I live, I will kill you.” *Record scratch* “If I live, I will kill you.” *Record scratch* “If I live, I will kill you.” *Record scratch*

JOHNSON: ”I know those words…”

Over and over again, the words from “Omerta” by Lamb of God echo throughout the arena. The singular line being played over and over again, starting a sort of creepy repetitive tone. After a good minute the lights come back on in the arena, showing what could not be called less than a crime scene. Laying in the middle of the ring, covered head to toe in a dark red crimson blood was Cyrus Riddle. New wounds where shown on his body as he slowly pushed himself off of the mat, blood dripping down off of his forehead onto the mat.

“If I live, I will kill you.” *Record scratch* “If I live, I will kill you.” *Record scratch* “If I live, I will kill you.” *Record scratch* “If I live, I will kill you.” *Record scratch* “If I live, I will kill you.” *Record scratch*

As Cyrus made it slowly up to his feet he looked around the arena, as if he was searching for who, or what did this to him. But there is no one to be found, as Cyrus looks up at the entrance ramp the record loop ends. The entire arena questioning what had just transpired before them.

JOHNSON: ”I think it’s safe to say that The Butcher has made this his crime scene.”

VASSA: ”Dakota’s here?! NNOOOO!!!”

JOHNSON: ”He’s done quite a little number on Cyrus too.”

VASSA: ”He asked for it! He signed his death certificate the moment he showed his face at All Or Nothing and struck Dakota in the back of the head with that hammer.”

JOHNSON: ”That was only the beginning. I hate to say it, but, it appears we’re going to have a bloody war on our hands, Vinny.”

VASSA: ”As long as it doesn’t involve my blood I’m all for it!”

”I stood there, still. You would have been forgiven for believing I was frozen in time if you couldn’t see me trembling. There were words that I wanted to scream but, for some reason, they wouldn’t come out. All I could do was pause and listen to the commotion down the line. My ears were ringing, my head felt like it was being squeezed tightly and my heartbeat pounded frantically. My dry lips allowed a chilled breath to pass and only then was I able to form something coherent…” “CORDELIA!?!?” ”There was no response in English, only a muffled scream surrounded by the sounds of a struggle. Something breaking in the background; the determined grunts of an assailant, desperately trying to subdue her. She was obviously fighting back – she was strong not to mention stubborn – there was no way she would be submissive to an attacker.” “Cordelia! What’s going on?” “It continued for a few seconds – or minute, I don’t know – until a loud bang killed everything. It went quiet, but the line was still connected. I called out to her for ages, hoping that she’d pick up. That she would pick up and say that she was okay or that it was all a prank. I wouldn’t have cared how sick the prank was, I would have forgiven her after what I was feeling. But there was nothing. I held on for ages, hoping…” “Cliff, what’s going on?” “She had tears rolling down her cheeks. I shushed her, trying to calm her whilst also trying to keep myself together. I finally conceded that there was going to be no answer and I reluctantly hung up, knowing I was possibly disconnecting from her for the last time ever. I looked at Kitty and she looked up at me, whimpering.” “Cliff? Where is my Sister? What was that? Who was…” “She buried her long auburn hair into my chest and the emotion burst from her like a fountain. Truth be told, I felt the same way but I had to keep my composure, or else Cordelia would stand no chance.” “I’ll call the police” “I said, knowing full well it was probably fruitless. She was halfway across the world and on a wild goose chase. What were the UK Constabulary going to do? The last thing Cordelia said to me was that she was somewhere in Amarillo. She told me the motel she had stayed at and the name of a Sports Bar where she may have found a clue, but before she could tell me the name of the hotel she had gone to, some fucker had snuck up on her. I don’t even know if she was at the hotel, outside, in the room…nothing.” ”So, what happened?” Monday 6th March 2017 – 12:30pm

Whites Wrestling, Fforestfach Industrial Estate, Swansea

Back to the present, in a pre-taped segment. Cliff is in the process of relaying a personal story to one of the contractors, currently on a break with a large thick mug of tea in his filthy hand. Cliff, lifts a bottle of water to his lips and hydrates his dry mouth. There is work going on around them, the interior of the former warehouse was making good progress into it’s transition into a dojo/gym. The pre-fabricated offices have been spruced up, the lighting is much improved and the walls have undergone a complete makeover. The sound of hammering, drilling and sawing reverberates around them. Behind them, an unassembled wrestling ring is flopped limply on the floor, strangled by the length of the ring ropes and ring posts on top of it.

WhHITE: ”We called the police, but, as I expected, they were less than useless. We tried to contact some US agencies but they pushed us from pillar to post. In the end, Kitty and I…”

The worker loudly slurped the remnants of his tea and gasped obnoxiously before flicking his mug to empty the last drops over the dirty floor.

CONTRACTOR: ”Is that the bird you were with? The redhead piece?”

Cliff paused and clenched.

WHITE: ”Yes, Kitty is her sister. She was with me at the time of the phone call. Well, we decided the only thing for it was to go out to America and look for ourselves, try to trace her steps. We knew the motel she was staying at in Amarillo so figured we would start there.”

The guy chuckled to himself and murmured “Amarillo”, as if it were a foreign word.

CONTRACTOR: ”It’s like that song, innit? Did you find her?”

A deafening thud echoed throughout the building as a clumsy apprentice dropped a piece of heavy equipment as he entered. The contractor next to Cliff tutted and bellowed across.

CONTRACTOR: ”Fucking hell, mun! Have you been drinking, or what? Sort it out!”

The young apprentice held his hand up in apology as he sheepishly attempted to tidy his mess. From behind him, another contractor hurried in through the doorway, rushing past the carpenter in the process of building the frame. A barrage of vulgarities followed in his slipstream and was warded off with a stern “fuck off”.

TOM: ”Boss!”

The guy talking to Cliff turned to receive his urgency but then noticed that he was directing his importunity at Cliff. A lot of the guys here seemed to look up to Cliff and referred to him as boss. He had garnered their respect by helping out with some of the work, particularly the menial tasks and heavy lifting. Their actual boss spent most of his time sipping tea and barking instructions.

TOM: ”Boss! Boss!”

He stopped for a second, out of breath. A 30 a day habit will do that to your lungs. He puffed out a breath as Cliff, confused, addressed him.

WHITE: ”What’s up, Tom?”

TOM: ”There’s a…there’s someone here to see you?”

Cliff squinted at him. Who on earth would be looking for him. Who would even know where he was?

WHITE: ”Who is it?”

Tom looked around, anxiously fidgeting.

TOM: ”Um, it’s some redhead bird. Pretty fit…”

Cliff lowered his head and took a deep breath. Before he could formulate a plan or collect his thoughts, a voice rang throughout the building, stealing the attention of all who weren’t already checking out her sensuous figure.

KITTY: ”Cliff!”

The workers shuffled away awkwardly, casually pretending to find something to keep them busy, despite the fact there was plenty all around them to keep them busy. The petite new arrival, a delectable figure in tight jeans, tall black boots and a black polo neck jumper wore a hair of sunset and a smile of sunrise, and she flung open her arms and rushed to Cliff to embrace him. He didn’t receive her, or at least, attempted not to but her arms wrapped around his waist and squeezed tightly. Cliff’s eyes rolled and he scrunched his face. He calmly pushed her away from him.

WHITE: ”Kitty?…what are you doing here?”

She pouted, a rare blemish on her usually cheerful disposition. She bowed her head and looked up at her, attempting to lay on the cute vulnerability.

KITTY: ”I…I missed you. I know we didn’t end on good terms but I had time to think and I would love to have a chance to explain myself. I want to make up for it. Can we please just talk?”

Her well-spoken tone was a far cry from what Cliff had become acclimatized in the last few weeks, spending time with the rough and ready laborers of Swansea had drawn out his own common accent – he had started referring to others as ‘mush’ and ‘fella’ on a regular basis – but Kitty’s well to do upbringing in the upmarket boroughs of London – Chelsea, Fulham, Kensington et al – had served to pronounce her cadence. There was no snobbery in her, though, she was still as common as much and would swear and curse like the rest of them. But she also knew how to manipulate, stressing the sultriness of her inflection to exhibit a sweet susceptibility that a well-educated housewife may possess, hoping that the confident and successful man would rush to her ‘helpless aide’.

WHITE: ”Look, Kitty, it’s nice to see you after all this time, but I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. I…I don’t know. Can we do this another time?”

She pouted – another move from her arsenal of emotional finagling – a stifled sniffle cautioned as a pre-cursor to a sob. She jerked her head back up and bit her lip, hoping to contain her building emotions.

KITTY: ”Okay, I understand. I mean, I’ve come all this way from London to see you – I didn’t even ask Daddy for money or a lift – I came here by myself for you. And if you can’t find it to give me the time then I’ll just have to say what I came all this way to say. Then it’s up to you, I suppose…”

Cliff stared blankly at her, trying to work out what she could possibly have to say that would have any bearing on anything. He watched as she squirmed on the spot, struggling to come out with her words.

KITTY: ”I just wanted to come here…to tell…you, I…I still love you. I never stopped loving you. And I know I was a bit of a bitch before and I scared you off and I completely understand why you left…but, you have to understand that I was having a hard time. You know what I was going through. What we were both going through. We both lost somebody that we loved and it killed us inside. We both acted a little crazy. It weighed heavily on us both.”

WHITE: ”That’s not how it felt at the time. You hardly seemed bothered at all.”

He snapped, sharply. He hadn’t meant to sound as harsh as it came out, but the element of truth remained the same. She bowed her head in shame.

KITTY: ”I know. I’m sorry. I wish I could take back what I said. It’s not what I meant at all. I was just feeling insecure and selfish and everything going on, it just all came rushing to the surface and manifested itself as some sort of jealous, evil, uncaring monster, and that is not who I am. You know that, don’t you, Cliff?”

He didn’t respond, he only motioned in a shrug.

KITTY: ”Do you think you will ever forgive me?”

WHITE: ”Yes. I do forgive you.”

She beamed. She leaned in to him, optimism brimming.

KITTY: ”Do you think you will ever love me again?”

He stopped. He lowered his gaze away from her and swallowed. He looked around at the contractors who were busy pretending not to listen to the drama going on nearby. One of them caught his glare and returned an awkward smile.

WHITE: ”Look, Kitty. I care about you a lot. You’ve been a part of my life so long, there isn’t a moment in the day that I don’t think about you. But…”

Her optimism began to retreat and a tear began rolling down her cheek.

WHITE: ”There was a time that I did, but, after everything that happened, the things that were said, I’d find it very difficult to have those sort of feelings for you again…I’m sorry.”

She let out a wet gasp as she sobbed, nodding in reluctant acceptance. She began to back away, wiping her tears – and subsequently her mascara – from her face.

KITTY: ”That’s fine. I guess that’s it then. I shan’t bother you anymore. Maybe I won’t bother anyone anymore. Goodbye…”

She almost burst into hysterics but managed to hold it in as she turned and began to run, leaving Cliff to silently contemplate his response and whether he should have given her more of a chance to speak her mind. She was a fragile one, that was for sure, always the baby of the family. But he had enough on his mind right now without adding the emotional minefield that was Kitty LaBlanc. Just thinking of her name brought back painful memories. He watched as she scurried through the doorway, unable to contain a burst of emotion as she exited, taking the carpenter by surprise. Everybody stopped working to share awkward glances. After a few moments of down-tools, the boss growled instructions and the workers dutifully carried on.

A dull thud almost went through Cliff, shaking his core. He looked around for the worker wielding a sledgehammer or other heavy equipment that could source such a noise but saw nobody to fit the description. He then noticed Tom rushing in through the doorway once more, this time stopping just over the threshold and waving his arms frantically.

TOM: ”Boss! Boss! Come quick! It’s that bird…!”

Tom turned on a six-pence and hurtled back outside again. He was followed in his wake by a number of curious workmates, all clamoring to find out what the fuss was about. Cliff nervously jogged to the doorway and stepped outside. He was greeted by a scene of chaos as men were surrounding something on the road just outside the building. Far down the street, Cliff caught a glimpse of a car, a dark blue Renault Clio, hurtling at high speed away from the scene. Cliff rushed over to the crowd of workers and saw her. Kitty was sprawled across the middle of the road in a shape that most people would not be able to bend themselves into. She had blood on her temples and part of her jeans were ripped. Panic engulfed him and he shoved through the crowd. He called her name and, thankfully, there was some response. She appeared to attempt to say something but no words came out. He checked her for injuries and made sure not to move her. He looked around him, frantically, and saw the group of workers standing by uselessly.

WHITE: ”Call a fucking ambulance!”

He leaned in to her face and whispered reassurances. Cliff White had something new to add to his plate…

UNDERCARD
FATE DIVISION
CLIFF WHITE VS. VIDUUS MORTA

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

Sirens wail through the atmosphere before the punk energy of The Clash rips through the soundsystem. Without fuss or hesitation, Cliff emerges from the back ready for business.

POWERS: “Coming to the ring, weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds. Hailing from Swansea, United Kingdom. CLIFF WWHHIITTEE!!!”

Striding purposefully to the ring, Cliff doesn’t miss a step as he beats his chest – his right hand thumping his tattooed left breast – before jerking his right hand high into the air with a roar.

As Cliff nears the ring, he bursts into a sprint and flings himself underneath he bottom rope, rolling over once before hopping up to his feet and once again raising his right fist up into the air. He takes up a position in the far corner of the ring and hunches over with his palms on his knees, staring intently at the entrance and urging his opponent on.

JOHNSON: “Cliff White looks ready to get over the hurdle here tonight. Still looking for that first win.”

VASSA: “What a loser, hasn’t event won a match here yet!”

JOHNSON: “Vinny, he is a veteran of the sport. He understands that you can’t possibly win every match. Losses happen from time to time.”

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.

POWERS: “Making his way to the ring, weighing in at one hundred and ninety five pounds, hailing from Parts Unknown. VIDUUS MMOORRTTAA!!!”

Viduus walks out slowly on pace with the music holding insert here down at waist level. 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. 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. Viduus rises and awaits the start of the match in the center of the ring.

JOHNSON: “Cliff is facing off againse Viduus Morta here tonight. Viduus looking to gain some momentum after his win at All of Nothing against 4CW vet Niobe Martin.”

VASSA: “Come on Steve who hasn’t beaten Niobe?”

JOHNSON: “This is the second time tonight that we are seeing Viduus, he was out here to taunt our Extreme Champion, Sativa Nevaeh.”

DING!!! DING!!!

Viduus springs to action as soon as the bell sounds. He rushes Cliff and bullies him into the corner. He fires off a couple quick elbows to Cliff’s head before Cliff lands a solid series of shots to Viduus’ mid section creating space. Viduus catches his breath quickly and rushes back in at Cliff, but the vet expected that and moves out of the way at the last moment grabbing Viduus’ head and slamming it into the top turnbuckle.

JOHNSON: “Viduus with the quick attack only to have it turned around by the veteran White.”

Cliff drops to the mat and takes Viduus down with a school boy roll up for a quick cover. Viduus manages to roll through the move and lunges back at Cliff, catching him with a knee to his face. Viduus keeps on the attack and drops a quick elbow onto the lower back of the prone Cliff. He follows it up with a few stomps as Cliff tries to get back to his feet. Cliff makes it back to his feet with some help from Viduus who whips into into the ropes then launching himself at the opposite ones.

They both rebound off of the ropes and head back to the center of the ring on a collision course. The veteran White quickly reads the situation and leapfrogs over Viduus and puts on the breaks. Viduus’ moment takes him into the ropes to bounce off once again towards a waiting Cliff who grabs his arm and violently wrenches Viduus to the ground while applying a seated armbar.

VASSA: “White takes down the voodoo freak!”

JOHNSON: “White with an early pin attempt that wound up with him almost on the receiving end of Viduus’ Soul Reaper. But the ever aware White takes him down into a seated arm bar!”

VASSA: “Break that weirdo’s arm!!!”

Cliff pulls back on the arm causing Morta to cry out. The ref is checking with Viduus, asking him if he wants to quit. Viduus shakes his head no while growling with pain. Cliff tries to pull the arm farther the wrong way but is struggling against Viduus. Viduus works his free hand and arm underneath himself and is able to roll White over his body and bring his shoulders to the mat. The ref slides over for the count.

ONE

.

.

Cliff lets go of Viduus’ arm and rolls out of the sloppy pin attempt. He heads to the corner in front of him to gain some space from Viduus.

JOHNSON: “Viduus with a quick one count against White. What a way to counter that submission.”

Cliff was quicker to his feet as Viduus sat on his knees shaking his arm to get some of the feeling back into it. She slowly makes his way to his feet as Cliff takes off towards him. He attempts to plant his knee into Viduus’ gut. But Viduus catches the leg and takes a step to the side lifting Cliff up and over taking him down hard with a single leg Sambo suplex.

VASSA: “Viduus must have supernatural reflexes to have caught White there. I think we might need a priest out here after this match.”

JOHNSON: “That vicious single leg Sambo suplex took the air out of Cliff White.”

Viduus slowly and methodically stands up with his eyes on Cliff. Cliff on the other hand rocks side to side on the mat trying to catch his breath. He rolls over and slowly starts to get to his hands and knees. Viduus paces back and forth behind the struggling Cliff. His eyes locked onto Cliff like a predator stalking it’s prey. Cliff finally gets to his feet only to be bent back and places in an inverted facelock. He lifts up Cliff before falling back to the mat driving the top of Cliff’s head into the mat.

JOHNSON: “The Awakening!”

VASSA: “There has been an Awakening yet Cliff White looks like he is out cold!”

Viduus climbs over Cliff and hooks a leg as the ref slides into position.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

Viduus stands up as the ref grabs his wrist raising his hand.

JOHNSON: “Viduus Morta picks up another win here tonight folks! Looks like he has finally hit his stride.”

VASSA: “I can’t believe that a freak like Viduus won. Should have totally been Cliff. He…”

Vinny is cut off as Sativa slides into the ring behind Viduus. She lunges forward and clocks him in the back of the head with the 4CW Extreme Title. She then slides out of the ring and starts to slowly walk up the entrance ramp backwards. Holding her title belt up she mouths off towards the ring and the fallen form of Viduus Morta.

JOHNSON: “And there is Sativa trying to christen her new title belt. She also sent the message that she isn’t scared of Viduus and his tricks.”

VASSA: “Thank god we have someone who will stand up to these freaks! Two weeks ago she took out that worthless piece of shit Dakota and now it looks like she is gonna take care of Viduus Morta.”

JOHNSON: “Let’s hope, for her sake, that she can make lightening strike twice!”

Backstage the camera rests in view of Adrian Tanners locker room door. The caution beeps are heard from a vehicle backing up, causing the camera to pan in the direction that the noise is coming from. Zooming in and focusing, Johnny Evil comes into view backing up a forklift with a vending machine on the forks.

Slowly backing up Johnny uses caution giving a couple beeps of the horn. As he approaches Tanner’s locker room door, he spins the wheel heavily and drives forward,smashing the vending machine against the door. He begins to lower and tilt the forks a bit as he beeps the horn like a maniac. Once the forks touch the ground, Johnny cuts the forklift and breaks the key off in the ignition, tossing the leftover piece down the hallway.

Tanner opens the locker room door, which is now blocked by the vending machine being pinned up in front of the door blocking his path. Stepping around to the side, Johnny looks at Tanner and lets off a subte wave…

EVIL: ”Oh, hey partner… I would love to help you out and all, but I got a match in a couple minutes!”

Tanner uses his shoulder to ram it into the vending machine, but with the forklift against it on the other side it doesn’t budge. Driving his shoulder into once more, he realizes that it’s no use.

TANNER: ”Are you for real right now?”

Johnny smirks and lets off a chuckle.He walks back toward Tanner and leans himself toward the tiny gap which allows Tanner to see out into the hallway, but not enough to wedge himself between to get out.

EVIL: ”Oh shit, I forgot… you got a match later on tonight too? Damn, how are you gonna’ get out buddy?”

Tanner gets angry and begins slamming his hands against the vending machine recklessly. Johnny waves again and then takes a couple steps away. Stopping in his tracks, he turns back around and heads over toward the forklift. Reaching toward the seat, he grabs his 4CW Tag Team Championship belt, which he almost forgot about. Slinging it over his shoulder, he flashes Tanner the deuces as he begins to walk down the hallway toward the entrance to the stage.

UNDERCARD
SOUTH BEACH BRAWL CUP
ROUND ONE

JOHNNY EVIL VS. DARE CLEMMENS

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

The lights dim in the arena as the intro to “Shut Your Mouth” by Pain begins to play. When the guitar kicks, pyro blasts from the stage as Johnny steps out from behind the curtain wearing black and white splattered DC Comic’s Venom based tights along with a matching black hooded vest jacket. The back bares the words The Savage Symbiote. He has the 4CW Tag Team Championship slung over his shoulder. He slaps the faceplate on the title a couple times with a smug arrogant smirk across his face, nodding his head slowly in approval as the audience boos in a rage he paces for a moment…

“…The only thing I ever wanted

The only thing I ever needed

Is my own way, I gotta have it all…”

Johnny steps around on the stage for a moment looking from side to side around the arena, mocking the audience before taking a few steps down the ramp.

…I don’t want your opinion, I don’t need your ideas

Stay the fuck out of my face, stay away from me

I am my own God, I do as I please…

Just wipe your own ass and shut your mouth”

Johnny Evil stops halfway down the entrance ramp ans walks over toward the barricade, beginning to trash talk an audience member. After a moment of trash talk, Evil grabs the beer from the audience members hand and takes a sip from it before tossing it to the side. Evil then continues to walk down the rest of the ramp and slide into the ring.

POWERS: ”From Detroit Michigan, weighing in at two-hundred and twenty-five pounds,he is one half of the 4CW Tag Team Champions… JOHNNY EEVVIILL!!!”

Johnny stands to his feet and paces around as the audience boos louder. Johnny pulls the 4CW Tag Team Championship from his shoulder and hoists it into the air before slowly back peddling to the corner where he drops to the canvas and takes a seat relaxing his arms on the bottom ropes as if the ring mat is his personal recliner.

VASSA :”Qualifiers round in the South Beach Brawl Cup right here, Johnson!”

JOHNSON :”Yea, I’ll tell you who else has a Qualifiers round match tonight too… The man who Johnny just barricaded in the locker room, his own partner, Adrian Tanner Jr!!”

VASSA :”You can’t be mad, that’s smart thinking! Evil’s trying to eliminate Adrian Tanner from being selfish and trying to steal the spotlight that rightfully isn’t his!!”

JOHNSON :”The spotlight isn’t anyone’s yet until they win their tournament. Are you really that shallow, Vassa??”

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”

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.

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.

POWERS :”Making his way to the ring, being accompanied by Tony Chu, from Philidelphia, Pennsylvania… DARE CCLLEEMMMMEENNSS!!!”

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.

DING!!! DING!!!

Dare comes out swinging, giving Evil a quick jab to the face followed by a spinning backfist. It only stumbles Evil momentarily and as Dare tries to connect a roundhouse, Johnny ducks under it, locks his arms around Dare’s waist and lifts him back with a belly-to-back suplex. Dare flips from the move, landing behind Evil and darting into the ropes. He comes back and attempts a clothesline, but Evil ducks under Dare Clemmens and springs off of the ropes himself. As he bounces back, rushing toward Dare, Evil lifts his leg, connecting a knee into Dare’s ribcage. Looking around at the audience Evil smirks and taunts them for a moment before locking Dare’s neck up and dropping back with a DDT. Johnny gets up and continues to mock the audience as he leans down and pulls Dare to his feet. Giving Dare another knee in the stomach, Johnny pulls him forward and locks his head under his arm. He goes to lift Dare, but Dare shifts his weight and comes back down to his feet, firing a couple fists into Evil’s kidney, causing him to release his lock. Dare rushes forward, but Johnny extends his arm and levels him with a clothesline. Looking at Tony Chu, Evil flicks him off before reaching down and lifting Dare up once more.

JOHNSON: ”Evil might not want to get too arrogant, that puts people in the position to make mistakes!”

VASSA: ”Come on Johnson, you can’t make mistakes against a man who lost to Jett Wilder… It’s not even possible!!!”

Evil tosses Dare Clemmens into the corner and rushes forward with a splash, but as Evil jumps into the air, Dare turns his body and gives Johnny an elbow to the chin. Johnny stumbles back as Dare comes from the corner and grabs him, lifting him up and dropping him down with an atomic drop. Rushing forward, Dare attempts to keep momentum on his side, delivering a knee to Evil’s face as he buckles forward. Dare then drops to a knee and gives him a quick knife edge chop to the face. Coming back to his feet Dare grabs at Evil and locks him a piledriver position, but Evil lifts up and sends Dare to the mat with a back body drop. Evil shakes off Dares previous strikes, taking a quick moment before reaching down and pulling him to standing position. He fires a forearm into Dare’s chin, causing him to fall back into the ropes. Evil runs forward and delivers a clothesline, sending both men tumbling over the ropes.

JOHNSON: ”This match has just spilled out into No Man’s land!!”

VASSA :”I love when these matches spill outside the ring! So much more brutal!!”

Johnny pulls Dare up by the wrist and pulls him forward, lifting him over his shoulders for a Samoan drop. Dare being quick fights the moment and slides off of Evil’s shoulders behind him, trying to lock his waist up and look for a German suplex. Evil sends a couple elbows back causing Dare to break his grip and stumble back holding his chin. Evil darts forward and jumps into the air, landing across Dare Clemmens with a cross body block.

“One! … Two! … Three!”

Evil starts to climb to his feet. Feeling Chu is getting too close for comfort he raises his hand in a motion as if to say he’ll back hand him. With his attention focused on Chu, Dare stands up and spins Evil around, kicking him in the stomach. He grabs his head and smashes it against the ring apron.

VASSA :”There goes Tony Chu, sticking his damn nose into things again!!”

JOHNSON :”I wouldn’t blame Chu, with the downright disrespectful things Johnny had to say about him!!”

“Four! … Five!”

Dare rolls back into the ring quickly and then rolls out to break the count. He reaches forward to grab Evil, but Evil swings his elbow back driving it against Clemmens forehead. Evil spins around and grabs Dare Clemmens wrist, locking it up and Irish whips him into the steel ring steps,causing him to collide into them and topple over them, landing to the floor.

“One! … Two! … Three! … Four!”

Evil reaches down and picks Dare up by the hair, lifting him to standing position. He smacks Dare’s head against the ring post before bringing him over to the barricade and lifting him up in a suplex position. He drops down and drills Dare’s head into the top of the steel barricade with a variation of his Lobotomy Brainbuster.

JOHNSON :”OH NO!! LOBOTOMY ONTO THE TOP OF STEEL BARRICADE!!”

VASSA :”GOOD NIGHT, DARE CLEMMENS!!”

“Five! … Six!”

Evil climbs to a knee and looks around the arena to the booing fans, waving it off before standing to his feet. The official stops the count for a moment as Tony Chu rushes over and checks on Clemmens. Johnny tosses a grin on his face and rolls back into the ring through the bottom rope, embracing the reaction from the angry audience. With the official unsure, Evil focuses his attention on him, gripping his shirt and bad mouthing him, telling him to continue the count.

“Seven! … Eight! … Nine! … Ten!”

Evil gives off a small laugh as the referee calls for the bell…

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

POWERS :”Here is your winner, JOHNNY EEVVIILL!!!

VASSA :”Johnny Evil wins it, he advances and continues to try and destroy 4CW as we know it!!”

JOHNSON :”You know, he’s turned into a prick lately!!”

VASSA :”Hey, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do? I wonder how Tanner is making out trying to get out of his locker-room??”

JOHNSON :”I’d be more worried about what injuries Dare Clemmens may have sustained at the hands of Johnny Evil!”

The official signals at the ramp for medical personnel as Evil walks over to the corner of the ring and stares out at Tony Chu who is still checking on Dare. The medics begin to make their way down the ramp as the timekeeper hands the official Johnny Evil’s 4CW Tag Team Championship. Evil snatches the belt out of the officials hand and rolls out of the ring. Beginning to walk his way up the ramp, unconcerned with his opponent as the medical staff continues to help him out.

A crimson decorated Cyrus Riddle is walking backstage at the Sun Arena. Approaching the corridor where his locker room his located, he stops as he rounds the corner and notices three arena staff huddle around his door.

RIDDLE: ”Fuck you doing, mates?!”

An obvious anger in his tone is accompanied by the piercing gaze that his eyes have no laid upon the three attendants. He hurriedly walks up to them and pushes them aside, only to see the word “KILL” scrawled over the door in the same blood substance that he is donned with. Despite that, his attention shifts downward, where a noose hangs from the handle of the room. Cyrus removes it and holds it up to his face. It appears worn, more than likely the same rope Dakota found himself fixed with by Sativa to lose the XTV Title. Looking ahead and closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and questions.

RIDDLE: ”When… was he here? Which one of you saw him?”

The men refuse to speak, resigning to only glances at one another hoping an answer would spew from the other’s mouth. Mere seconds pass as Cyrus looks each of them over, the expressions of fear taking hold and accompanied by refusal to verbalize information.

RIDDLE: ”Okay…”

A low volume laugh escapes the Englishman’s mouth as he nods, grabbing the portly fellow to his left and wrapping the rope around his neck, slinging him into the wall as the others attempt to walk away. Only one escapes as Cyrus manages to get his hands on the tall, lanky attendant and presses his face against he door, the emerald pupils of Riddle accentuated by the red that covers his face as he wide eyed looks at the boy.

RIDDLE: ”Listen to little prick! I’m not here to play games, understand? I ask and I shall receive answers. I find it hard to believe you bellends stood here and saw nothing. But, if that’s what you wish to go with…”

With a hand gripping firmly around the man’s cranium, Cyrus pulls him back and thrusts his face into the door, watching him crumble to the ground. He admires his handiwork momentarily before spitting at both of them, opening his locker room door slowly and uttering his last words before walking in and slamming it shut.

RIDDLE: ”That’s alright, Kota, pretend to be a ghost… I’ll help you cross over soon enough.”

The fans are buzzing in the arena, waiting for whatever is to come when the lights dim down and “Killing You Hoes” by Trina hits the speakers and the boos are just about as loud as the music playing out the speakers. Genevie walks out from behind the curtain. She doesn’t do her usual gloating to the fans, or ass shaking. She just glares out through the crowd and rolls her eyes as she walks down the ramp.

POWERS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the ring at this time, THE PRINCESS OF 4CW, GENEVIE CCAARRLLSSOONN!!!”

Genevie walks to the side of the ring where the ringside crew sits, and signals for a mic. She gets impatient, as they go to hand her one and she aggresively snatches it out of her hand as she puts it up to her lips.

G. CARLSON: “Cut the music. Everyone already knows who the fuck I am. You can stop wasting everyone’s time with the theatrics.”

Her music fades out and she lets the boos erupt even louder throughout the arena. Rolling her eyes as they do, as she climbs the side steps to the ring and enters through the middle ropes. Walking to the center of the ring.

G. CARLSON: “You all can shut up right now. I get it, you hate me. I’m not your favorite person. I don’t really care, and honestly I have a lot to get off my chest right now. Starting with the theatrics stuff. I mean, here I am always putting on a show and none of you can appreciate it. Not even that, not even my coworkers respect me even after I’ve slammed their faces so many times in the match I can’t even count.”

The boos ring out louder causing a scream to erupt from Genevie’s lips that shuts them up abruptly as fans cover their ears.

G. CARLSON: “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about all this bullshit as to why I don’t get the respect I deserve. Why people pretend like I’m not a threat, or that I don’t deserve every single title shot or spot that I’ve been placed in. Like I don’t earn that shit, and it’s blatantly obvious. I cater to the needs and wants of other people and in the end they get all the credit. All the ideas are mine, and yet other people are getting all the benefits from it. Meanwhile I am scratching and clawing and fighting like hell for people to believe that I am every bit as good as a man I’m married to.

No really. Please tell me some more as to why my choices in spouse makes any difference on whether or not I’m a talented wrestler. I love hearing how irrelevant I am without Eli. I love hearing that I’m not worth a damn without Tara and Eli by my side. That they pity me and that’s why they keep me around. Sure they were successful with their gold, but I don’t for a second believe I’m the reason the tag titles were lost, no more than I can blame Tara. Especially when we weren’t the team that was pinned, and especially since up to that point as a tag team Tara and I were undefeated.

No but keep on with your bullshit. I couldn’t claim the Pride Championship, I lost the Fate Title, but then again I’ve never really had a chance to prove myself again in those divisions. Who knows maybe things would have gone differently. So as I’ve been thinking about shit and after the loss at All or Nothing. I had the opportunity to help Tara win those tag titles back, but truthfully? I wanted no part of it. I love The Red Queen to death, but I’m honestly getting tired of being the one who always says yes. The one who always puts the needs of others above my own. It’s getting fucking exhausting and truthfully? I was way badder of a bitch when I looked out for my needs and my needs alone in this business.”

Genevie put the mic down for a moment, and closed her eyes taking a deep breath as she looked down at the mat, she then lifted her head up and continued to pause for a moment.

G. CARLSON: “Upon this realization and realizing this Royal Family shit is nothing but a charade of theatrics and bullshit I’m putting more effort into making a thing than really making myself a thing. I’ve elected to completely withdraw myself as a member of The Royal Family. I quit. I’m done. There is no more Princess Genevie in association with The Royal Family from this moment on.

Now I know all of you are probably going to expect me to come out here and brutally attack my friends and my love, but it’s just not going to happen. Tara and JPD at this point are like family and we will remain friends, and I will remain the wife of Eli as well. You just will no longer have to endure those elaborate entrances of Royalty from me. No more telling you all to bow down. No more. I’m done. I’m sick of this team bullshit, it hasn’t done fuck all for me. I’ve gotten nothing more from this team than more misery, more disrespect and I’m sick of it. I’m going to be on my own from this point on. It’s all about me and I refuse to let myself be held down anymore by the successes and failures of the people I’m closest too. They will be just fine without me holding on to the team and I will be just fine without them.

Which is the whole reason I inserted myself in this tournament to begin with. To get the respect I rightfully deserve. To prove that I am every bit as good, if not better than my husband Elijah Carlson. That he doesn’t define who I am. I did fuck up and make myself about my husband and outside of 4CW? It’s none of anyone’s business how I treat my husband, but I’ve noticed above all the person who respects me the least in this ring is my husband, and THAT I will change. I’m not doing this tournament for his benefit, my friends benefit, or anyone else. This is strictly about me, and what I want. The path that I want to walk and the success I want to obtain in this company. I’m going to make myself the face of this company whether you people like it or not.

For every time you, my husband, or anyone else says I can’t do it? For every time you people want to tell me to shut up, and stop putting myself out here, or overselling myself? Guess What?! I’m going to shout that much louder, I’m gonna strive to hit you all that much harder. I don’t give a damn what you people think. I’m going to the top and I’m going to do it whatever way I see fit. I’m not Johnny Evil in the regards that I want to see this place burn. No I want to see it thrive. I want more from 4CW. I want more of the best to step foot in the ring across from me, and I want to knock them all the fuck back down off their high and mighty pedestal, and show them that their best isn’t good enough against me. I am going to do whatever I have to, to make it to South Beach Brawl and face my husband and become the 4CW Champion.”

Genevie smirked, satisfied by what she had said as the boos ring out loudly and she holds her head up high, before holding her finger up and waiting for the crowd to settle down.

G. CARLSON: “Now, Now. I’m not finished quite yet. There’s still one more thing. Daddy of mine. I would really appreciate it if you would come out here. I have a very important matter I would like to discuss with you. Don’t worry, I’m not my husband I’m not gonna threaten anyone’s life if you don’t talk to me but just know the show will not continue until you come out here and talk to me. I have hired my own personal security, and they will make sure that you are the only person that makes it to the ring, as long as I’m standing out here.”

Sure enough as Genevie says this, a team of security guards come out to guard not only the ring, but the ramp as well. She lowers her mic and waits, patiently at first before she begins to tap her foot and sigh as the moments tick by. After a few moments, Perry Wallace walks out from the back, no music, just business as he heads straight down the ramp. Frustrated, he stares down the ramp at Genevie in the ring as he marches towards her. Turning at the bottom of the ramp, he then quickly ascends the steps at ringside before stepping out onto the apron. Shaking his head back and forth, he just stares ahead at Genevie before turning to the nearest member of the ringside crew and calling for a microphone. With a mic in hand he then dips through the ropes and slowly approaches Genevie.

WALLACE: ”Genie, what in the hell are you doing right now? You going to delay the show? Is this what you really want to do?”

G. CARLSON: “Well gee it worked for my husband, so why the fuck not, right?! I mean otherwise we could do this on twitter and talk about my dead child some more. By the way. You can Untag me.”

A smirk comes to his face followed by a soft chuckle.

WALLACE: ”Heh… do you really want to do this right here, right now?”

G. CARLSON: “I have some shit to get off my chest, so yeah we are gonna do this RIGHT NOW.”

With a slow nod, Perry then turns to his left and slowly walks towards the ropes before coming to a stop and looking over the Connecticut crowd.

WALLACE: ”Okay, if you want to play Twitter antics then I guess I’ll play along. We wouldn’t want to upset Princess Genie, right?”

Snapping his head around, he quickly turns to Genie before taking a step forward and slowly walk towards the other side of the ring.

WALLACE: ”First of all, you can untag yourself, just like Tara should have untagged you as a partner at All Or Nothing. But here we are, and there you are untagging yourself from the Royal Family, trying to get everyone’s attention as you cause a scene here in the ring.”

Stopping at the opposite ropes, he looks over the crowd momentarily before turning back to Genie and making his way to the center.

WALLACE: ”You wanted to AT me, so here I am. Just what is it that is SSOOOOOO important that you thought it would be a good idea to come out here and delay the show for these fans who paid their hard earned money to be here tonight? What is it that just couldn’t wait until you saw me backstage? What is it that couldn’t wait until your thumbs felt the need to type one hundred and forty characters of bullshit all night until the goddamn sun rises? Please, tell us Princess. I’ll wait.”

Genevie shook her head, and looked disgusted by everything Wallace had said as she licked her lips and put her mic back to her lips.

G. CARLSON: “Really you’re gonna talk about my tag match like that?! When YOU were the one who came to ME about stepping in when JPD couldn’t?! See, this is why I wanted you to come out here. Shit like this, where one minute I mean the world to you and the next? You’re pandering to these fans just to get your own reaction.

You see I called you out here, because I feel like the only way you’re going to truly get what I have to say, and take it seriously is if there is an audience. If you think the only way I can get my point across is because I have an audience of people watching. I could have done this backstage, but you wouldn’t have gotten the message. You were the one who brought The Royal Family together, and endorsed us. Claimed to have our backs, and was going to be there for us. You never quite did shit for us though did you? In fact, you brought a team together and said you were going to be there, yet you and Kaysie both just vanished.

So in the end, I have no one to blame for this Royal Family nonsense, but YOU. Everything I have done was because you wanted it so. The Daddies Little Princess bit. The whole being your child to begin with. Hell if I wanted this much of a waste of my time, I’d be calling Chris Corso up and asking for round two of that useless relationship.”

Unable to hold it back, Perry bursts into laughter as her final sentence comes to an end.

WALLACE: ”REALLY?!?! Did you just name drop THE BIG DAWG right here in the ring? I wish I could retweet this! This is gold!

On a more serious note though, I have to be a little honest with you here. You’re coming off awful spoiled, don’t you think? Oh daddy did this and daddy did that, but daddy wasn’t here to do anything when I needed him to. Come on now. You really want to be the kid in high school that has their parents drop them off at the front steps every morning? Oh wait, I guess I wouldn’t know about that either, would I?

Do I look like I’m fucking capable of helping you do anything inside of these ropes? Don’t kid yourself. I backed you, yeah, but I can’t get involved in your affairs when it comes down to actually pulling your weight. But go ahead, blame me for all of your shortcomings. It isn’t the first time, and it damn sure won’t be the last time. What do I know. I never had to go through this with Bronx or Kat.”

G. CARLSON: “There you go name dropping Kat of all people, the bitch who did a massive Pipe Bomb that failed to detonate and then ran to a company she puts herself over in, you know the thing you always bitch about other people doing but for some reason it’s okay for that one to do it. It’s fine. I don’t care about being the favorite daughter anymore. Especially if you’re trying to hold Kat Jones over my head when I’ve proven time and time again I’m better than her.

I’ve always taken my fair share in the blame on things, but I need you to acknowledge that you are the reason why I get to deal with bullshit over these tag titles. Not even pinned but somehow it’s MY fault solely as to why I’m not holding gold right now. The tag division has been on it’s last legs limping along for a considerable amount of time, and I can’t help but think YOU wanted to use that opportunity to hold me back. To keep me down while you plotted against me to be anything other than a place holder. Which is why, I’ve decided that since it was never real anyways, you can fucking take my name out of your little fake family tree. I never really cared that I didn’t have a dad and you didn’t exactly change my opinion on the matter.”

In somewhat of a shock, Perry lowers the mic and drops his arm down to his side. With a dumbfounded look on his face. Moments pass as the two remain silent with their eyes locked. Blinking his eyes, rapidly, Perry snaps out of whatever has ahold of him before raising the mic once more.

WALLACE: ”What? I’m sorry, you lost me for a second there with the blah blah blah.”

Genevie rolls her eyes, her hand gripping her mic tighter as she is clearly starting to get angry, as she almost seems to be warning Wallace with the glare in her eyes to be more respectful of her.

WALLACE: ”Calm down, Jesus Christ. You wanted to make this a Twitter show so I was just doing my part. As a certain someone would say, I got you hashtag baited.

I’m not even a bad guy, but you wanted the Twitter theatrics. Well dear, you got them. Do you constantly need someone putting you down? You need me now to be the one putting you down? I’m sorry, I don’t need to do that here in front of everyone. After all, you’re the one who has been down on her back in a stranger’s bed more times than John Blade has been on his back looking up at the lights in a wrestling match!

But I’m the ba–“

G. CARLSON: “You can shut the fuck up right now with your hypocrisy right there. Gonna talk to me like this shit, and then wonder why I’m cutting ties with you?! You won’t put me down here, well you sure don’t seem to have any problem with doing it on Twitter. This isn’t about theatrics. I’ve made a point to say I’m done with theatrics. I want people to take notice and understand, the theatrics don’t fucking define me, but here you are. So since you won’t get it? I guess I have to explain it to you in the only way you seem to understand.”

Without warning, Genevie took her fist and drove into the side of Wallace head, with the mic. She watches as his body sinks to the ring mat and she stands over top of him, putting the mic up to her lips as she brushes her hair out of her face.

G. CARLSON: “Sorry Daddy, but Princess Genevie is DEAD.”

She threw the mic down as Wallace covered his head and tried to regroup himself as Genevie exited the ring. “Killing you Hoes” beginning to play as she didn’t bother to look back into the ring and walked up the ramp ignoring the fans yelling at her as she turns around on the top of the ramp and waves at Wallace standing in the ring with a smirk.

WALLACE: ”What the fuck! Should have left you to sink with the ship in Tijuana doing donkey shows.”

Genevie narrows her eyes as she just lifts her middle finger up in the air flipping off Wallace before stomping off behind the curtain in a huff of anger.

Keegan is seen at the backstage area he is watching the show via the monitor. So far, he likes what he is seeing. He then turned his attention over to the camera with a smile on his face.

RYAN: “4CW the most talked about place where you can actually become someone. I have had my eyes on this place for a while even attended some of the events. I am very impressed by the people in this company. But don’t think that I am gonna kiss some ass you are dead wrong.”

Keegan has a serious look on his face as he tilted his head to the side.

RYAN: “I could be like every guy that has stepped foot in this company and say that I came here to be the best to go after the belt that Elijah Carlson is holding. I could just be very typical and predictable so everyone can have something to say on Social Media or they would roll their eyes.”

He shrugged his shoulder not that he would care or anything of that nature. He does have a plan to make a name for himself but he won’t say what his plans are he’ll just let everyone just guess.

RYAN :”But I won’t for now I am just observing and see if the people in 4CW are truly what they are hype up to be. Or it’s just all smoke and mirror. I’ll be watching very closely.

Keegn walked away from the camera view.

UNDERCARD
SOUTH BEACH BRAWL CUP
ROUND ONE

ALEXIS MORRISON VS. SCOTT STEVENS

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

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.”

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.

POWERS: ”This…is….SCOTT SSTTEEVVEENNSS!!!”

An icy glare and the throat slash gesture his only actions as he drops to the mat.

JOHNSON: ”After what happened to start the show between the 4CW Champion and Scott Stevens, that is not a man I would want to be anywhere near a wrestling ring with right now.”

VASSA: ”I’m sure Alexis is going to be a game competitor tonight, Steve. But I think you’re right. Stevens is going to be out to hurt someone tonight and she’s the one who drew the short straw and is standing in his way.”

JOHNSON: ”Whether or not we’ll see a rematch from All or Nothing in the main event at South Beach Brawl is still to be seen. But if Stevens wants it, the first step in getting there is a win tonight.”

VASSA: ”It would be pretty disappointing, I think, if the big Texan was able to come that close to winning the 4CW Championship only to fall short, and then get eliminated in the first round of this tournament? If you ask me my money is on the big man tonight.”

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: ”It has been a tough road to hoe for Alexis since coming to 4CW but a win tonight could very well turn things around for her and set her on a course for stardom..”

VASSA: ”There’s no President Mac or whoever the fuck runs wherever she came from before, anymore. I think she’s finding the pond with the big fish is a lot harder to survive in than her old home.”

JOHNSON: ”Maybe but she has put up a hell of a fight every single time she has come out to compete for this company. Something has to give eventually, right?”

VASSA: ”Hey if you want to bet on her I’ll gladly take more of your money home with me.”

DING!!! DING!!!

As the bell sounds, Alexis Morrison stares across the ring into the eyes of a man over a foot taller than she is, and over a hundred pounds heavier than she is. The task before her is certainly a daunting one but she’s not one to back down and as Stevens closes into toward her, she takes a deep breath and waits patiently. When he’s close enough she takes off at a quick sprint and then baseball slides between his legs. As she does so she uses both of her hands to grasp at his ankles, tripping him up and sending him stumbling face first into the corner turnbuckle pads. Using both hands to push himself out of the corner, Stevens turns around quickly but as he does he’s caught with a Pele kick from Morrison that sends him tumbling back into the corner as well.

With a head of steam, Alexis moves quickly to the opposite corner and then takes off across the ring at her opponent. Sensing danger, Stevens pushes himself out of the corner once more and move to grab Alexis once she’s near enough but again she’s just a bit to quick for him, spinning around his back quickly and then wrapping her arms around his neck after coming fully back around to the front of him, twisting him over and bringing him down to the mat with a swinging neckbreaker. With opportunity in her grasp, Alexis quickly climbs back to her feet and takes off toward the ropes, leaping and springboarding off of the middle rope, flipping over in the air and landing perfectly across the chest of her opponent with a springboard moonsault. She hooks the big man’s leg quickly, trying to put the match away early on.

ONE

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

JOHNSON: ”Smart move to try and catch Stevens off guard with that early pinfall attempt..”

VASSA: ”Stevens was having none of it though. She’s going to have to keep up that pace and keep the Texan grounded if she’s going to have any hope of pulling off the upset here tonight.”

Back up to her feet, Alexis waits until Stevens is back to his feet and charges at him. As she does so she ducks under a clothesline that has enough force on it it seems as though Scott was looking to not only end the match, but also end her life as well. Bouncing off the ropes, she catches Stevens as he turns to face her with a tilt-a-whirl headscissors takedown. Feeling all of the momentum in the world on her side, Alexis lets out a scream as she gets back to her feet. The frenetic pace continues as she quickly heads over to the nearby turnbuckle and climbs to the top rope. Once there she spins herself around to face the fallen body of Scott Stevens, who doesn’t really seem to have any clue what in the hell has hit him up to this point of the match.

As she prepares to leap, a dazed Stevens begins to push himself up to his feet. Having committed to far already, Alexis leaps from the top rope and flips in the air. As she comes down she manages to catch Stevens around the neck and drive him downward into the mat face first with a DDT. As soon as the move connects the crowd erupts into a frenzy, not believing what they had just witnessed with their very own eyes.

”HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!!”

JOHNSON: ”Holy shit is right. What in the hell was that?!.”

VASSA: ”I don’t think we’ve ever seen anything like that here in 4CW. I have to admit, Alexis Morrison is raising the bar tonight. I figured Scott Stevens would have butchered and buried her by now.”

JOHNSON: ”Not so fast my friend! I think that was a shooting star DDT we just witnessed.”

VASSA: ”Maybe. I don’t know what the hell you’d call it but Stevens is reeling here. I think that miracle might just be unfolding before our very eyes.”

The pace slows a bit as Alexis works herself back to a standing position, giving herself a moment to catch her breath after deciding not to go for the pinfall attempt. In complete control of the match now, Alexis feeds off the energy of the crowd and stares at the body of Scott Stevens. Deciding to show off a bit of her brawling skills, Alexis mounts the torso of her opponent and begins blasting him across the face with right hand after right hand until finally the referee steps in and forces her to break the assault, backing her off Scott Stevens briefly. Even so, Alexis simply backs up to her own corner and lines Scott Stevens up. It’s clear she’s preparing to go for the running bicycle kick that she calls 20 eyes.

Once more, Scott Stevens slowly begins climbing back to his feet. Once he stands up right, though a bit wobbly, Alexis takes off across the ring at him once again and leaps into the air. This time, however, Stevens is ready for her. He side steps the attempted bicycle kick that was meant to begin putting the finishing touches on the match. As she tumbles past him, Stevens manages to grab onto her shoulder and spin her back in his direction. When she turns back toward him, Stevens lifts her up into the air and drives her down to the mat with a DOUBLE S SPINEBUSTER and immediately all the momentum that the smaller competitor had built up is driven out of the arena.

JOHNSON: ”OH GOOD LORD! I THINK STEVENS KILLED HER!.”

VASSA: ”She couldn’t be that lucky, Steve. But just like that the fortunes o this match have turned on a dime.”

Shaking the cobwebs out of his head, Stevens sneers at the fallen woman before dragging her back to her feet. Dazed and barely able to stand, Alexis doesn’t see Stevens back up into his own corner and line her up. He takes off at the speed of a slow moving hippopotamus coming out of the corner, but the running knee trembler that connects with her jaw nearly knocks her unconscious and shows her just why you DON’T MESS WITH TEXAS. Looking down at his opponent, Scott Stevens once more makes a slashing motion across his throat and then doesn’t waste any time pulling her back up to her feet. As he does so he wraps his arms around her neck and then drives her down to the mat.

JOHNSON: ”Toxic Sting from Scott Stevens!.”

VASSA: ”I’ll be honest, Vinny. He doesn’t have the look of a man who is done just yet.”

Indeed he wasn’t done. Instead of pinning Alexis at that moment in time he bends down and pulls her back up by her hair. Her head rests against his abdomen and the weight of her body causes her to drop back down to a knee as Stevens laughs and shakes his head. Once more he lifts her up to a standing position and then picks her up onto his shoulders. For a moment time slows down as he positions her. And then, with lightning quick brutality, he drives her straight down into the mat with a spike piledriver. When her body goes limp after the move connects, it is only then that Stevens adjust and puts the weight of his body across her upper torso, pinning her to the mat as the referee slides in.

JOHNSON: ”Moral Compass from Scott Stevens. This match is over..”

VASSA: ”Indeed it is.”

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

JOHNSON: ”Alexis put up one hell of a fight. You’ve got to give her credit for the effort she put out. Against anyone else she might be walking out of here with a ticket punched to the second round of the SBBC.”

VASSA: ”Maybe, but doubtful. Scott Stevens punctuated the end of that match by making an example out of her. You have to think he was sending a message to the champion. One that says that he’s coming for him and at South Beach Brawl, what we saw happen here tonight to Alexis could very well be Elijah Carlson.”

Pushing himself up to his feet, Stevens has his hand raised in victory as Mike Powers announces the result.

POWERS: ”Here is your winner by pinfall… SCOTT SSTTEEVVEENNSS!!!”

The scene fades backstage as Stevens takes to the corner to celebrate his victory and the referee kneels down beside Alexis to check on her and make sure she’s alright.

The cameras head backstage after what just went down into the ring, to find Genevie walking the hallways, after her outburst from earlier her mood doesn’t seem to have improved from earlier. She squeezes the bottle of water she has in her hands tightly as she just glares off into space, as if in deep thought. She didn’t even notice her husband Eli approach, he looked annoyed and he snapped his fingers in front of her face, she just turned her narrowed gaze to him.

E. CARLSON: “If you want to scorch the earth that’s fine, I’m right there with you. I’ve said from the start it’s you and me against the world, but know this… If it comes down to it and it’s you against me for my title, it will be just me against the world and babe? NO ONE is taking this title from me.”

Gen rolled her eyes at her husband, and shook her head before giving him a sarcastic smile.

G. CARLSON: “Of course you would find some way to make this about you. It’s always about you. It hasn’t been us versus the world in a long time love, and it’s not a matter of IF, it’s a matter of WHEN it’s me against you for that title that you hold so dear. So when you tell me you’re going to make it all about you versus the world in that regard, you aren’t telling me anything that I don’t already know, or that I don’t already deal with.”

His own gaze narrowed in her direction, shaking his head.

E. CARLSON: “I have supported you in every single thing you’ve done in this company, and every choice you’ve made. Do you know what the difference is? I’ve made the most of my opportunities and you’ve let them slip through your fingers. So when you sit there, pissed at me because everything that is 4CW is about me right now, you’ve got no one to blame but the person staring back at you in the mirror. Unlike your support of me, my support of you has never once wavered. So whether it’s a matter of if, or whether it’s a matter of when, I’m in your corner. But if, and when, it comes down to you standing across the ring from me, challenging me for what is mine, I will put you down, Gen. And I’ll do it without any concern for whether it’s good for you or not.”

Genevie shook her head, and pushed herself up from the wall, walking away from Eli before turning around. She just wanted some distance between the two of them.

G. CARLSON: “See you claim to be supportive of me, and yet you are one of the top people who bashes me. Who reminds people of my failures day in and day out. Not to mention you don’t even take me serious as a threat to you. Which shows me that the amount of respect you really have for me when it comes to our careers amounts for jack squat. This whole thing is going to be a fucking double edge sword no matter what.

So please my oh so supportive husband, please remind me some more about everything that I let slip through my fingers while making sure you stay successful, and no Eli it’s not always about interference in matches or letting you climb a ladder to get a stupid contract. Think a little bit bigger, think about a little bit more than just you and that title. For once. Think about me. You don’t have fuck all to do here tonight, and yet I have one of the biggest matches to date. Here you are talking about you and how you feel about a situation that hasn’t even happened. You support me scorching earth, we will see how much you support it, me and what we have when you’re the target of being burned.”

With a smirk, he shook his head and laughed to himself.

E. CARLSON: “For once think about you? When you weren’t sure whether or not you should enter this tournament, who is the one that encouraged you to do it? Who has been the one sitting here telling you to keep fighting through it when you’ve thought about walking away? The problem isn’t that I’m thinking about myself, or that it’s all about me. The problem is that you want it to be all about you and it isn’t. The problem isn’t me, or my support of you. It’s you wanting out of my shadow and you hating the fact that you haven’t been able to get out of it up to this point. So yes, Gen. I support you. I pick you up when you fall down. And whether you fall down tonight against Mariano, at some other point between now and South Beach Brawl, or in front of the world in Miami… I will be here to pick you back up when you fall down.”

Gen had been in the midst of walking away from her husband completely. She stopped and turned back to look at him. She smirked and walked back over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as her arms went around his neck.

G. CARLSON: “I know you will, but you need to understand something. I don’t want to be picked up off the ground every time I fall down. I want to lift myself up. I don’t e want it to always be me that gets picked up. For once, I want you to see exactly what it’s like to have to be picked up after everything you’ve worked hard for and thought was yours, is stripped away from you. That no matter how strong you looked in the match, or how good you did? You still failed, and in that moment you might understand, but don’t worry love. I’ll be there and I’ll pick you up just like every time you’ve picked me up. You’ll feel it run through your body like poison and you’ll be sick to your stomach at just the thought of having someone else pick you up, and it won’t end there because when you look up at me? My hand won’t be empty. I’ll be holding the 4CW Championship, but there’s still much to do before that may or may not happen. I need to focus on what’s in front of me now, and what’s to come before I even get to you. Pay close attention to what I do, because you don’t want to underestimate what’s going to come next…”

Genevie turned her head and planted a kiss on Eli’s lips before letting him go and shoving him away from her as she wiped her mouth and put her head down laughing as she walked away, leaving Eli standing there looking annoyed as he shook his head before heading into the opposite direction his wife was heading.

UNDERCARD
FATE DIVISION
LORD RAAB VS. JETT WILDER

JOHNSON: ”Got a nice matchup for you folks here tonight, as Jett Wilder takes on Lord Raab!”

VASSA: ”Jett had a hell of a time at All or Nothing, wouldn’t you agree?”

JOHNSON: ”Yes indeed! The future, amazing, great one showed us all that he wouldn’t stay down. Jett defeated Dare Clemmens, and put himself right back on top with that win.”

VASSA: ”Not only that, but he got to see some tiddies too!”

JOHNSON: ”We all did, and so did everyone at home I think.”

VASSA: ”Well, I can see those cheerleaders at ringside right now. If they’re following Jett around for all of his matches, I think I’m going to quickly become his biggest fan.”

“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: ”Lord Raab might have something to say about those cheerleaders, and Jett, here tonight.”

VASSA: ”If there is anyone who wouldn’t be distracted by that, it’s Raab. Dude has only one thing on his mind, and it’s causing Jett Wilder massive amounts of pain.”

The lights go dark as the beginning of “Blessings” by Big Sean hits the fans more then likely unhappy to hear the music playing. Out from the back dancing and wilding out is Jett Wilder followed not far by the imposing Luiz Cavalcante and the beautiful Carmella Wilder. Though generally the young and small Wilder alone would not be imposing with his atrocious dance moves we get a close up of the imposing Luiz walking to the ring to really strike some form of fear. Clapping her son on is Carmella with her glasses on looking professional as she usually does, as Wilder bounces up the steps stopping.

POWERS: “Coming to the ring from Los Angeles, California accompanied to the ring by Carmella Wilder and Luiz Cavalcante, weighing in at one hundred and forty five pounds and standing five feet, eight inches tall, JETT WWIILLDDEERR!!!”

Waiting for Luiz who as usual doesn’t look pleased to have to stop and lower the top rope down so that Wilder can jump over it to show off. Shaking his head as he follows him into the ring as Jett jumps up to the top rope pounding his chest as the crowd boos him. Carmella walks around the ring ignoring the cat calls and the boos to continue to cheer her son on as Jett bounces off the ropes and heads to the other side with Luiz standing behind him arms crossed. Finally bouncing back down taking off the hoodie he came out with to hand to Luiz who walks to the ropes to hand it out to Carmella as Jett readies himself.

JOHNSON: ”Jett Wilder joined by the lovely Carmella Wilder, and Luiz, here tonight. Although I don’t think they’ll have much involvement in the match, it’s nice to see support for Jett grow.”

VASSA: ”He has a whole squad here with him! It’s nuts, but it seems to be working out for him. Let’s see how it helps him tonight!”

DING!!! DING!!!

The bell rings, and this match is underway! Raab and Jett Wilder circle each other, Jett Wilder rubbing his head after still feeling the effects of last week. The two shoot in for a tieup, but Jett Wilder gets the better of Raab and transitions to a waistlock. Raab throws an elbow, knocking Jett Wilder back. Raab grabs him, pulling him into a quick side headlock. Jett Wilder pushes Raab to the ropes, and sends him running. Raab rebounds, knocking Jett Wilder down with a Shoulder Tackle! Raab looks down at his opponent, giving him a roar! Wilder gets back up to his feet, cracking his neck.

Jett Wilder charges at Raab with a front kick. Raab blocks and counters with a back elbow. Jett Wilder counters and grabs the wrist, pulling him into a side headlock. Raab ducks under and goes for a hammerlock, twisting Jett Wilder’s arm. Jett Wilder spins around, putting Lord Raab into a hammerlock! Raab rolls through, kicks the arm of Jett Wilder and hits an Armdrag. Jett Wilder gets up quickly as Raab charges, he takes Raab down with an Armdrag of his own. Jett Wilder hits a hip toss. Raab kips up and they both pose towards each other. The crowd pops as Jett Wilder and Raab nod at each other.

JOHNSON: ”We got ourselves a little competitive match going on here. A good way to start things off.”

VASSA: ”Jett is certainly the talented wrestler, but I can’t help take my eyes off of those cheerleaders in the front row…”

The cheerleaders near the ring start a chant for Jett, as Raab stares a hole into his opponent. Jett Wilder looks to go for another lockup, but Raab levels him with a High Knee! Jett Wilder doubles over, and Raab catches him with a Rising Knee! He quickly picks Jett Wilder up, tossing him to the ropes! Jett Wilder hits the ropes, and Raab levels him with a European Uppercut! Laroy Jones drops down for the count, as Raab covers Jett Wilder!

ONE

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Raab gives Wilder a quick stomp, picking him back up to his feet. He tosses Jett Wilder into the nearby corner, another Elbow catching Jett Wilder as he rests in the corner. Raab tries to hush the crowd, as he swings for a huge Overhead Knife Edge chop, but Jett Wilder moves! He slams his fist into Raab, rights and lefts connect all over Raab! Jett Wilder backs up and leaps into Raab with a huge shouldertackle! Raab falls to the mat, and rolls to the outside to collect himself.

Jett Wilder rolls to the outside, clobbering Raab with a Forearm to the back. Raab swings at Jett Wilder, who ducks and spikes him to the outside with a DDT! The cheerleaders sing their praises for Jett, as Jett Wilder rolls back inside of the ring. Laroy Jones calls for Jett Wilder to get down from the apron, as he waits for Raab to get back up. Raab gets to a knee, and Jett Wilder leaps off of the apron! He tries for a Double Axe Smash, but Raab catches him! Raab drives Jett Wilder into the nearby ringpost!

JOHNSON: ”Raab catches Jett, and makes him pay!”

VASSA: ”How do you think that blonde cheerleader is feeling about all of this? Maybe I should go console her.”

JOHNSON: ”Damnit Vinny, pay attention!”

Jett Wilder falls to the mat, as Raab rolls back into the ring ready to continue this fight. Laroy Jones calls for Jett Wilder to get back into the ring, he is slow to crawl back in. Raab quickly drops an elbow, right across his back! Jett Wilder cries out, as Raab picks him back up to his feet. Raab lifts Jett Wilder up, and slams him down with a Release German Suplex! Quickly making the most of it, he covers Jett Wilder for the pinfall.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Raab wastes no time, getting back up to his feet and picking Jett Wilder back up. The front chancery quickly turns into a big Vertical Suplex! Raab keeps Jett Wilder high up in the air, suspending him upside down before slamming Jett Wilder to the mat with the Delayed Vertical Suplex! Raab pops back up to his feet, as Jett Wilder is slow to get up. Raab runs to the ropes, and CLOBBERS Jett Wilder with a Running Forearm Smash! Raab quickly covers him again!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Jett Wilder kicks out again, holding his back as Raab pushes him back into the corner. Raab goes for an overhand Right, but Jett Wilder ducks and clobbers him with an elbow! Raab leans against the corner, as Jett Wilder blasts him with a stiff forearm! Jett Wilder pulls Raab out of the corner, as he goes up onto the turnbuckle. Standing on the second rope, Jett Wilder jumps at his opponent, but Raab LEVELS him with a Jumping Knee! Jett Wilder falls to the mat, as Raab picks him up and tosses him back to the outside!

JOHNSON: ”So far this match has been all Lord Raab! No matter what Jett tries to do, Raab is right there to stop him!”

VASSA: ”Raab is a tenured vet in this company, he’s seen a lot of action in the ring.”

JOHNSON: ”Jett is going to have to come up with something if he wants to win this tonight!”

Raab follows, a kick to the side of Jett Wilder’s ribs keeps him stunned. Lord Raab grabs his opponent, and slams him face first into the ring apron! Completely out of it, Jett Wilder can’t do much as Raab tosses him hard into the nearby ring barricade! Jett Wilder slams into the barricade, falling to the mat as Lord Raab rolls back into the ring.

Jett Wilder doesn’t stay down for long, as Raab goes back to the outside to retrieve his opponent. He tosses Wilder back into the ring, Jett Wilder crawling to a nearby corner. Lord Raab grins, as Jett Wilder stands up in the corner. Raab charges in, catching Jett Wilder with a Running Big Boot! Jett Wilder flops over the top rope, but Raab holds onto him! Trapping his arms in the ropes, Lord Raab starts to beat on his chest with several forearm smashes! Over and over he slams down onto Jett Wilder’s chest, finally letting go and letting Jett Wilder drop to the mat.

Lord Raab stands in the ring, watching as Jett Wilder lays on the outside. Laroy Jones finally begins his count, as Jett Wilder tries to get back to his feet.

“One! … Two! … Three! … Four! … Five! … Six!”

Jett Wilder, a bit beat up now, is slow to get to his feet, as Lord Raab rolls back outside. Not wanting to have a count out win, he goes after his opponent. Jett Wilder tries walking towards the ring, but Raab is there and lays him out with a Running Forearm Shot! Jett Wilder hits the ground hard, the cheerleaders boo Lord Raab as he jaws with them a little. Laroy Jones calls for both men to get back into the ring, as Raab tosses Jett Wilder back in. Raab slides back in, covering Jett Wilder for the pin!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

The crowd cheers as Jett Wilder kicks out again, Lord Raab turns him over and drop a knee across his back! Jett Wilder cries out in pain, as Lord Raab drops another hard knee into his back. Wrapping his hand around his chin, and pulling his legs back, Lord Raab falls onto his back. He traps Jett Wilder into a Bow and Arrow hold, the detective now stuck in a brutal submission hold!

JOHNSON: ”A Bow and Arrow hold! I don’t think I’ve seen Raab bust that one out before!”

VASSA: ”Smart move on his part, he’s been working that back of Jett’s all night long! He keeps this up and Jett will have no choice but to tap!.”

Lord Raab holds on tight, pushing his knees up as he bends Jett Wilder more and more. Jett screams out in pain, but the crowd seems to be cheering him on. Even the cheerleaders in the front row are begging for him not to quit. Raab asks for the ref to check on him, but Jett Wilder tells him he’s not giving up! Frustrated, Raab pushes Jett Wilder forward, dumping him back onto the mat. Raab pulls his thumb across his throat, indicating that he wants to end this match now!

Raab walks over, trying to lock in the Killerlock! Jett, still dazed, tries his best to fight out of the hold. Raab can’t quite lock his arms together in the Anaconda Vice, so Raab sits Jett up instead. Raab lays into him with a few rights, but Jett Wilder is fighting back! Jett Wilder leans back, and catches Lord Raab with a kick to the head! Raab stumbles backwards, allowing Jett a chance to recover. Lord Raab tries charging towards his opponent, but Jett Wilder ducks and tosses him with a Back Body Drop!

JOHNSON: ”Jett is firing back up!”

VASSA: ”Lord Raab might be in trouble here!”

Jett Wilder, with the crowd’s backing, look to pile it on as Raab gets back up to his feet. A European Uppercut knocks Raab for a loop, Jett Wilder connecting with a Spinning Back Kick after that. This sends Lord Raab stumbling to the ropes, he rebounds back and Jett Wilder clobbers him with a Rolling Wheel Kick!

SMACK!!!

The move rolls Raab’s eyes into the back of his head, as Jett Wilder quickly spins his stunned opponent around. Lord Raab provides no resistance, as Jett Wilder grabs him and pulls him to the mat with a HUGE GERMAN SUPLEX OUT OF NOWHERE! The crowd cheers, as Jett Wilder basically has to deadlift his opponent onto the mat. Jett Wilder keeps the bridge, as he goes for the pin!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

The crowd thought Jett had that one, but Lord Raab is not done yet! He quickly fires up, roaring in Jett’s face! Raab attempts a discus clothesline, but Jett Wilder ducks that and drops him with a Spinebuster! Raab pops back up, on wobbly legs. Jett quickly runs to the nearby corner, readying himself as he attempts the Jett Plane! Jett flies through the air, crashing into Lord Raab as the two collapse to the canvas. Jett rolls off of Raab, holding onto his stomach for a brief second. Jett doesn’t look to be quite finished yet, he readies himself as Raab tries to get to a knee!

Jett Wilder looks to go for another running Bulldog, but Lord Raab suddenly wakes up! He pushes Jett off of him, sending him away! Raab charges in for another Running Lariat, but a push kick from Jett Wilder spins him around! With his opponent dazed, Jett Wilder connects with a GOTCHA! Jett quickly covers Raab for the pin!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

JOHNSON: ”Wow! What a series of events there! Lord Raab is as tough as they come, he will not stay down!”

VASSA: ”Jett has turned this match around, Raab’s gonna have to come up with something here if he wants to get back in it!”

The crowd seems disappointed, as they thought Jett Wilder had the match won. He looks ready to finish this match, picking Lord Raab up for a standing Tornado DDT, but Raab tosses him out of the way! Jett Wilder charges towards Raab, who catches him with a European Uppercut! Jett spins around, allowing Raab to grab him and drill him with a Piledriver!

The crowd looks to be into this contest, as Lord Raab looks ready to finish this match. He drags Jett Wilder to the nearby corner, clobbering him with a series of vicious headbutts! Jett staggers around, allowing Raab to whip him hard into the corner. Jett staggers out of the corner as Lord Raab rushes for the ropes! He hits the ropes, looking for the spear on the rebound, but Jett Wilder moves! Raab bounces on the ropes again, and Jett Wilder levels him with ANOTHER BICYCLE KICK!

JOHNSON: ”GOTCHA CONNECTS AGAIN!”

Raab falls to the mat, in a seated position, Jett Wilder charging forward with a Running Knee that misses! Raab rolls backwards, getting up to his feet as he catches Jett Wilder clean with a Big Boot! Raab picks Jett back up to his feet, looking to connect with The Killerbuster! He lifts Jett up, but Jett lands back down onto his feet! Without hesitating, Jett jumps up and sends Raab to the mat with a Frankensteiner! He quickly grabs hold of Raab’s legs, keeping him pinned to the mat for the pinfall!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

POWERS: “Here is your winner, JETT WWIILLDDEERR!!!”

“Blessings” begins to play again, as Jett scurries out of the ring. He is greeted by Carmella and Luiz, who celebrate with him as he celebrates his victory. Raab stays in the ring, disappointed he was caught for the three count.

JOHNSON: ”Raab would not stay down, so Jett used some trickery! He catches him with the roll-up, out of the Frankensteiner!”

VASSA: ”Nice moves by Jett there, but hell of a performance by Raab tonight. He almost had this match, Jett was just able to pull something out at the last minute.”

Jett raises his hands in victory, the crowd cheering along for the two men. The cheerleaders celebrate as well, Jett leans over the guardrail as they all swarm him with attention. After a few moments, we cut away backstage.

The camera picks up backstage leading us through the echoing, empty hallways of the arena. There is no one around us, no crew member or 4CW talent to be found. A door slams shut hard and startles the cameraman judging by the blair witch like shaking of the screen. The cameraman rushes to the door to see what had happened and climbing the ramp with the dummy of Sativa over his shoulder was Viduus.

Out of seemingly nowhere, the other Viduus, who does not have his mouth shut appears directly in front of the camera. He is so close to the camera that we can only see his face.

SPEAKER: “You dare attack Him? You dare put your filthy, vile, disgusting hands on Him? Do you believe this is a game Sativa? Do you think that we are in a movie here and all of the bad things that could and will happen are just a show? You have something we want. You have something that cries out for us. It’s the one thing that you believe belongs to you blood countess because you have given it blood. It is the one thing that you believe you have resurrected because that is what you, as the blood countess, do.

That title does not belong to you. You can claim the blood of any man. You can seek out the most violent means to defend it but the title will betray you. We are forged by violence and we bleed unlike the men you know. The title calls to us because it belongs to us.

We are coming for it and we will leave you in a heap, battered and bloodied beyond what you could conceive. You are no champion, you are merely a surrogate. And surrogates will not do.”

He backs away from the screen turning his body slightly to reveal the Viduus has strung the dummy up from a light post in the parking lot. The camera zooms in to see the replica Sativa just swinging back and forth as Viduus stares up at it.

SPEAKER: “You belong to us now Sativa and you don’t even know it yet.”

The man who speaks for Viduus points across the parking lot. Viduus is stood signaling for the title around his waist before fading back to Adrenaline.

UNDERCARD
SOUTH BEACH BRAWL CUP
ROUND ONE

MARIANO FERNANDEZ VS. GENEVIE CARLSON

POWERS: ”The following contest is a South Beach Brawl Cup matchup and is scheduled for one fall…”

The arena lights suddenly go down, and a Trollface appears on the big screen.

problem?

Then, a sound of drums fills the arena.

DUM-DUM-DUM!

DUM-DUM-DUM!

DUM-DUM-DUM!

POWERS: ”And now, standing 6’00 tall and weighing in at 180 pounds! From somewhere in Skyrim… “THE GADFLY”… MARIANO FFEERRNNAANNDDEEZZ!!!”

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…

“DOVAHKIIN! DOVAHKIIN! NAAL OK ZIN LOS VAHRIIN, WAH DEIN VOKUL MAHFAERAAK AHST VAAL! AHRK FIN NOROK PAAL GRAAN FOD NUST HON ZINDRO ZAAN! DOVAHKIIN, FAH HIN KOGAAN MU DRAAL!”

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. He then beings striding decidedly and steadily to the ring. Once he climbs the apron and passes between the ropes, he grabs the microphone from the time keeper.

FERNANDEZ: “FUS RO DAH!!!”

JOHNSON: ”Been a bit of a tough week and a half for Mariano, what with being spanked by his own teammates”

VASSA: ”I imagine so. I’m a bit surprised he’s not walking like a cowboy down to the ring to be completely honest with you.”

JOHNSON: ”Do you think deep down he might have enjoyed it?”

VASSA: ”Surely not. I think it was just some sort of crazy team building exercise for Generation Now. You know, Williams was into Big Dick Tate there for a while. Who knows what goes on behind closed doors with that group of guys.”

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… GENEVIE CCAARRLLSSOONN!!!”

“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. He backs off and she just continues to smirk as the music dies down.

JOHNSON: ”Speaking of strange happenings, I’m not really sure any of us expected Genie to do what she did tonight.”

VASSA: ”It seems that the Royal Family has decided to go their separate ways but, beyond that, the relationship between Perry and Genie fractured right before our very eyes.”

JOHNSON: ”I think they at least lasted longer than Omerta did.”

VASSA: ”Once again it seems like Dakota was right. Everything dies. But let’s focus on the matchup at hand, shall we. The winner of this match will go on to face Johnny Evil in two weeks in the second round of the SBBC.”

In the ring the referee checks both opponents over and then reviews the rules with them before signalling for the bell and the start of the match.

DING!!! DING!!!

The match kicks off quickly with some back and forth action between Genevie and Mariano. With a boot to the abdomen, Manny gets the early advantage, grabbing onto Genie’s wrist and twisting her around, wrapping her arm behind her back in a well executed wrist lock. Looking to get out of the hold quickly, Genie throws an elbow that catches Manny in the temple, causing him to release her arm. Free from Mariano’s grasp, Genie turns around and latches onto his wrist, whipping him into the ropes. When he returns she leaps into the air, looking for a drop kick but Manny hits the breaks and narrowly avoids the contact intended for him as Genie falls to the mat, pushing herself back up to her feet quickly.

As she gets back to her feet, Mariano drives her back into the nearby corner and then stands her up straight with a stiff knife edged chop. He then delivers not one, not two, not three but five more consecutive chops before the referee steps in and causes a break in the action. The separation is all that Genie needs to get out of the corner. In an awkward moment, the referee turns around and finds himself caught between Genie and Mariano. In that brief period of time, Genie reaches over the referees shoulder and jabs her thumb directly into Manny’s eye. Half a second later the referee gets out of the uncomfortable predicament and positions himself better to call the match before him. It’s all the opportunity that Genie needs, with The Gadfly’s vision impaired, to shoot in and take him down to the mat quickly with a single leg takedown. As he hits the mat she transitions quickly into a headlock, bringing the pace of the match to a halt.

JOHNSON: ”Pretty even matchup so far. Those knife edged chops seemed to really be stinging the Boston Genie.”

VASSA: ”Yeah but the thumb to his eye while the ref wasn’t looking seems to have turned things back in her favor pretty quickly..”

Having transitioned from a headlock to a modified sleeper hold, Genie is slowly sucking the life out of her opponent (perhaps the thing she has the second most experience in sucking). As Manny’s face turns beat red, he begins to beat his hand rhythmically on the mat. As he does so the fans start to clap along with him which seems to give him a burst of energy. Enough, at least, to work his way slowly back up to one knee and then up to both feet in a hunched over position with Genie still applying as much pressure to the hold as she could. Seeking to break the manuever, Manny drives an elbow into her abdomen twice, which gives him the separation he needs to be able to put a hand against her back and shove her off of him and into the ropes. As she comes back at full speed in his direction, Manny spins and then levels her with a clothesline from hell.

Quickly, Mariano moves to the nearby corner and ascends to the middle rope. Staring down at the fallen woman, Manny lines her up and then tumbles toward her, driving his elbow directly into her sternum. And with her voluptuous bosom the elbow drop certainly has to be a precise one to hit her sternum and not her tiddy meat. Taking quick advantage of the fact that momentum has swung back in his favor, Manny covers but doesn’t hook the leg as the referee slides in to count the attempted pinfall.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Immediately after the referee’s hand hit the mat a second time the Boston Genie fired out of the pinfall attempt. With a grin, Manny pushed himself back up to a knee and took Genie’s long locks of hair into his hand, pulling her back up to his feet with him. Once they are both standing, Manny swings with his right hand trying to catch Genie flush across the jaw but she ducks under and through, swooping around behind Manny, cracking him across his ass with a bare handed slap that sends him howling in pain. Apparently whatever welts or stripes had been left from his teammates days earlier had not fully healed just yet.

JOHNSON: ”Ouch! I bet that has to bring back bad memories.”

VASSA: ”Or good one’s. You never know. Don’t kink shame him if he liked it, Steve..”

When Manny turns back toward her, Genie scoops him up over her shoulders and then slams him back down to the mat with an Alabama Slam. While Manny rolls over onto his side in pain, Genie drops to the mat arrogantly and begins doing pushups beside of him which draws a hefty amount of boo’s from the crowd. Once she hits ten pushups she stands back up as the crowd, unhappy with her taunting, begins to chant back at her.

“BABY KILLER!” *clap clap clapclapclap* “BABY KILLER” *clap clap clapclapclap*

For a brief moment her face contorts in rage but after a deep breath she gathers herself and returns her attention to her opponent who has slowly managed to work his way up to one knee. Closing in on him, Genie looks to continue her assault but Manny catches her off guard with one fluid motion where he pushes himself up to both feet and leaps, planting one foot on her hip and catching her squarely across the temple with a step up enziguri that knocks her down to the mat face first. A half second after she falls, Mariano drops to the mat as well trying to recover from the fight that has ensued up to this point.

JOHNSON: ”GADFLY! MARIANO CATCHES HER WITH THE GADFLY!”

VASSA: ”Yeah but he’s not in a position to do anything about it. He’s at least delayed the inevitable, though..”

The fans begin to clap and cheer, urging Manny back to his feet as Genie begins to recover as well. Second after excruciating second passes with both competitors regaining their bearings and working their way back up to a standing position. On wobbly legs, they arrive upright at the same time. Genie is the initial aggressor, swinging at Manny but missing as he ducks under. When she turns back to him a nasty mist is spewed from his lips directly into her face, impairing her vision and sending her stumbling backwards. With a grin, Mariano and the fans shout at the same time.

”PROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOBLEM?”

Genie drops to a knee, frantically wiping at her eyes as Manny moves towards her. He steps up, placing one foot on her thigh. Instinctively, Genie drops to her side and Manny misses narrowly on his shining wizard attempt. Out of desperation, as he spins, Genie hooks her arm between his legs and pulls him down to the mat. When the referee slides in she grabs hold of his wrestling trunks, pulling on them to provide a little bit of added leverage on the school boy roll up.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

JOHNSON: ”You’ve got to be kidding me! How did the referee not see that coming?!”

VASSA: ”See what coming? That was a perfectly legitimate pinfall, Steve.”

JOHNSON: ”C’mon, Vinny. Genie was holding onto his tights as clear as day. She just stole one in broad daylight.”

VASSA: ”Look, Steve. It’s win at all costs and if the referee didn’t see anything then obviously there wasn’t anything illegal being done. This is a big win for Genevie and I think it’s pretty shitty of you to try and take her accomplishment away from her.”

Bouncing up to her feet, Genie continues wiping at her eyes while trying to celebrate her victory at the same time. In acknowledgement of her win the referee raises her arm in the air as the fans boo. Meanwhile, Mariano sits on his knees, with his hands placed upon his thighs, in disbelief at what had just happened. Yet it’s not a dream, or a nightmare, as Mike Powers announced the victor from the DJ Booth.

POWERS: ”Here is your winner, by pinfall… THE BOSTON GENIE… GENEVIE CCAARRLLSSOONN!!!”

As Genie celebrates her win, rolling out of the ring and making her way up the entrance ramp, the scene fades backstage with one last glimpse of a stunned and disappointed Mariano pushing himself back up to his feet in the ring.

Dare’s cleared out his locker room and he’s on his way home. There’s not a trace of him other than the name label on the door reading “Clemmens” which is about to be pulled off the door and tossed. The janitor is fat and looks like Jason Cashe fifteen years from now. He grumbles as he pulls the name placard off the door.

JANITOR: “Hrmm, looks like that Dare Clemmens kid was the best thing to ever happen to that Jett Williams kid. Lucky too. Probably won’t win another one until he completes the sex change. Yep. Kids these days. Couldn’t just man up and take a big dick like I used to in the seventies.”

Yeah so he walks kind of funny as he carts the “Clemmens” placard over to the garbage can, showing that he has likely taken a few beef torpedos to the anus to earn his signature limp. He turns around and you can see the ceiling lights shone through his ginger beard and just as he’s about to drop the placard into the trash, a hand reaches out and catches it. It’s that Shane Fuckin’ Clemmens guy.

S. CLEMMENS: ”Hold on there pal. There’s a chance we might need this again. You know how Petty Wallace is about dollars and cents. Can’t just toss this shit.”

Obligatory crowd pop. Shane lets out a chuckle.

JANITOR: “I’ll suck yer dick for fifty bucks.”

The janitor licks his lips through the large gap where his four front teeth used to be.

S. CLEMMENS: ”Nah baby, I don’t like redheads. Though, you can do me a favor, when Wallace has you bent over next, you could have him this placard and tell him that he can save the four fifty he spent having it made cuz the real Clemmens is here now. Real. Get it?.”

Shane looks into the camera.

S. CLEMMENS: ”That’s @RealDirtyDog on your twitter faggotry box. Give it a follow and try to talk to me like I know what the fuck you are. Ha. Also, feel free to speculate whether Dare left because he’s full of sorrow over losing to Miley Cyrus, or if he’s mad because him and CJ O’Donnell want to play grab-ass by themselves or whatever the fuck else reason you want to come up with. Fuckin’ punks lack imagination. The obvious reason was that he was distracted by Drew Stevenson’s thousandth facial reconstruction. Either way, joke’s on you because I’m back for a minute and my aim is to fuck up Jason Cashe because we all know that Brad Jackson and Spiral are too busy sniffing their own fuckin’ farts to step the fuck up.”

The Janitor snorts with laughter.

JANITOR: “I’m basically a representation of Jason Cashe, only older, gayer, and gingery, huh?”

Shane nods.

S. CLEMMENS: ”Don’t worry though, man, I already like you better than Jason Cashe.”

Shane looks to one side and then the other and shakes his head before driving forward and collapsing the Janitor’s skull with a genuine Shoot to Thrill. Shane kneels down and lays the “Clemmens” placard on the Janitor’s chest and roughs the Janitor’s hair.

S. CLEMMENS: ”Yep, a whole lot more than Jason Cashe.”

The camera cuts back to ringside to show that the ring has been decorated with several large gift-wrapped boxes, a red-flooring covering the entirety of the ring, and a table set up in the center.

JOHNSON: “We’re back live here at ringside, and during that commercial, this ring was quickly decorated by some, for lack of better terms, hired hands.”

VASSA: “Yeah, they were in and out of here in quite the hurry.”

Attention is soon shifted to Mike Powers, who has a microphone.

POWERS: “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the new 4CW Pride Champion, Matthias Barrows!”

The crowd begins booing wildly as Dancing Mad begins playing throughout the arena, and out walks Matthias Barrows along with his usual escort of his wife Stacy and Gary the Assassin. Matthias has the Pride Championship slung over his left shoulder and his carrying another gift-wrapped box under his right arm. He is dressed to the nines in a finely pressed Armani suit. Gary the Assassin is also carrying a box in his own arms, being careful not to shift the contents.

JOHNSON: “I was wondering how long this was going to take.”

VASSA: “What do you mean?”

JOHNSON: “I think it was a given that Matthias would come out here and gloat. It was four weeks ago, he brazenly stole the Pride Championship and ransomed it for a championship match. It was two weeks later in a phenomenal 2-out-of-3 falls match with Bryan Williams that he won the right to carry it for real at All or Nothing.”

VASSA: “Agreed. Barrows and Williams put on an instant classic at All or Nothing, but it turned out to be Matthias’ night, and now he IS in the books as the official Pride Champion.”

JOHNSON: “I’ll give him this. Matthias Barrows is not dulled by his habit; he has shown signs of brilliance, and the plan he executed to get what he wanted was well thought out. It was just his methods that people have problems with.”

As they reach the ring, Matthias enters and holds the Pride Championship high above his head. As he does so, there is a loud *BANG* before balloons and confetti drop from the ceiling. Gary then sets the box he is carrying on the table and reveals a cake inside.

VASSA: “Boy he’s spared no expense on this.”

JOHNSON: “I’m just wondering what he’s got in all those boxes that have littered the ringside area.”

As the music dies out, only the sound of booing and the occasional popping of balloons can be heard.

M. BARROWS: “Go ahead and boo me. It won’t make your lives any better, and it won’t get you out of this state that’s just like Massachusetts, but dirtier and with less character.”

The crowd continues to boo while Matthias chuckles to himself.

M. BARROWS: “So go ahead, boo your hearts out because there’s nothing you can do to ruin the mood I’m in tonight. When I first came to 4CW, I set out on a mission; to get the championship match that had been stolen from me three times. But now, all of you have to sit there and accept the fact that I am now the 4CW Pride Champion, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

The crowd boos some more, just like Matthias wants them to.

VASSA: “He’s right. Matthias fought tooth and nail to get his opportunity. He deserves every second of this moment.”

Matthias waits for the crowd to die down some more before he speaks again.

M. BARROWS: “You could say that it’s been a good few weeks for me, and you wouldn’t be wrong. That’s why I have set up this celebration, but that’s not the only reason. You see, this past Sunday just so happened to be a special day in its own right.”

VASSA: “Oh, that’s right! Do you know what day that was?”

JOHNSON: “I may have heard something of it murmured.”

M. BARROWS: “This past Sunday, we celebrated the anniversary of the birth of a true-to-life, undeniable Empress among peasants, and that birthday belonged to the striking woman at my side, Mrs. Stacy Barrows.”

Despite the booing, Stacy shows some slight embarrassment.

VASSA: “She sure is modest for a woman of twenty-six.”

JOHNSON: “She’s thirty-two.”

M. BARROWS: “That is why that this is more than just a title celebration for me, it’s also a belated birthday party for her. So I want you all to rise to your feet, and in unison, wish my wife a happy birthday.

This only makes the crowd boo louder.

M. BARROWS: “I SAID WISH HER A HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!”

The boos continue, the crowd refusing to oblige.

M. BARROWS: “You know what? It doesn’t even matter, because she already has many things that you people don’t; class, beauty, and a fully-functional brain. This brings us to the first gift. Now I purposefully withheld this gift, because I wanted to give it to you here, and show all of these inbred morons something else that they don’t have.”

Matthias holds the box up for his wife, who takes the lid off of it and laughs lightly when she sees what is inside.

VASSA: “What is it?”

S. BARROWS: “I love it!”

Stacy reaches in and takes the object out of the box, which Matthias tosses aside.

JOHNSON: “I’ve seen it all now, folks.”

VASSA: “What a gift! It’s the Triple Crown Championship of Excellence!”

JOHNSON: “I think I may be sick.”

Matthias raises the mic as Stacy slings her “gift” over her own shoulder.

M. BARROWS: “I’ll be honest; I looked at it and thought that nothing says “excellence” like you.”

Stacy lays a smooch on her husband’s lips, before Gary speaks up.

GARY THE ASSASSIN: “Well with that done, because this is a dual celebration, my gift is to you, Matthias.”

Gary picks up a box and hands it to the Pride Champion. After unwrapping it, he seems confused as he cocks an eyebrow.

M. BARROWS: “Extra-large condoms, Gary?”

GARY THE ASSASSIN: “I thought you might need them if you’re going to continue doing what you’re doing.”

M. BARROWS: “Oh, I get it. Thanks Gary, I can tell you put a lot of thought into this one. You’re right though. If I’m going to continue fucking the bejesus out of 4 Corners Wrestling, I’d at least want to be safe.”

JOHNSON: “This is just getting ridiculous now.”

VASSA: “He’s going to the next gift now.”

Matthias skims through the multiple boxes before he settles on another small one.

M. BARROWS: “Oh look, I found one here for both of us.”

Matthias takes the lid off and pulls out the object from inside.

M. BARROWS: “A hand mirror?”

S. BARROWS: “There’s a card with it.”

Noticing the card inside the box, Matthias takes it out and reads it out loud.

M. BARROWS: “To my friends, The Barrows’. Happy Birthday Stacy, and Matthias, congrats on your championship win. Here is a hand mirror from my collection. I think you know what to do with it. Signed, B.B.C.”

Matthias gives a sly smirk when he realizes who sent him the gift.

M. BARROWS: “Well, I didn’t know at first, but I do now. Heh, heh, heh.”

As Matthias turns his attention to his next gift, there is a quick interruption. “Omen” by The Prodigy begins to play throughout the Mohegan Sun Arena. There seems to be a bit of confusion as to what is going on. Matthias Barrows looks out towards the stage, annoyed that somebody is about to ruin his special celebration.

JOHNSON: “Well, I don’t know of any scheduled appearances here tonight. Is this a PA mess up?”

VASSA: “Wouldn’t surprise me much, those guys are always getting high in the back.”

JOHNSON: “No wait – look!”

Matthias, Stacy, and Gary all stare towards the stage as the crowd begins to cheer for the arrival of Bryan Williams. Bryan emerges from the back, moving as fast as he can on crutches. He stops at the center of the stage, smiling to the crowd. He takes a look towards the ring, giving Matthias Barrows a quick wave. The Pride championship slips from Matthias’ shoulder, falling into his hands as he prepares himself for a fight. Stacy and Gary are quick to hold him back, not wanting to let this celebration get out of hand. They quickly realize though that no fight is coming to them.

VASSA: “Well look at who decided to show up, ready to ruin this for everyone else I bet! Good ol’ Buzzkill Bryan!”

JOHNSON: “Let’s not jump to any conclusions here, Vinny. Bryan looks like he’s in no shape for a fight here tonight.”

Steve is correct, Bryan walks out onto the stage with the use of crutches. With his right knee wrapped up in a brace, the attitude inside of the ring quickly changes. Matthias, confident as ever, brings the Pride title back up onto his shoulder. Bryan grips a package in his hand, carefully holding onto it with one of his crutches.

JOHNSON: “Bryan Williams and Matthias Barrows put on one hell of a match at All or Nothing, but Matthias certainly shocked Williams with the outcome. Bryan must be having to swallow a lot of his own pride by coming out here tonight.”

VASSA: “As well as he should! He disregarded Matthias, and it cost him dearly! Be a man, Bryan, get in there and shake his hand!”

Bryan limps down towards the ring, keeping his distance from it. He places himself in a good spot, near the end of the walkway. The crowd seems to still be supportive for Bryan, especially so as he pulls a microphone from his back pocket. Matthias rolls his eyes, as Bryan gets ready to speak.

WILLIAMS: “Now, I’m sure that everyone here is expecting the worst from me right now. Matthias, you’re celebrating right now and I’m glad you have this opportunity to do so. You proved a lot of people wrong, myself included. You should enjoy yourself with your victory, I just have a few things to say. I won’t be long, you can get back to what you want to do very soon…”

Matthias sighs, motioning to Bryan to hurry up. Bryan nods, looking out at the crowd around him. He seems to be in a somber mood, a former champion defeated in this moment.

WILLIAMS: “All or Nothing didn’t quite go my way, and for those of you paying attention afterwards …I did in fact suffer an injury during the match.”

The crowd boos, as Matthias feigns concern in the ring. Gary behinds him laughs, as Stacy looks on still a bit worried about the whole situation.

WILLIAMS: “Matthias, I won’t try to take anything away from you. You got me to tap out that night, but it was that injury that forced me to quit. I think any other night I would have pulled through, and beaten you. We all know that injuries are just part of this whole thing, it’s something I just have to accept. I won’t let that detract from the grand scheme of things though, because you’re out here celebrating! It’s a wonderful time for you, I’m sure, you’ve finally earned something here in 4CW. You should celebrate, you should be showered in gifts. It’s a tremendous achievement, which is why I’ve come out here tonight.”

The crowd isn’t sure what to make of the situation, as Bryan holds up his gift. Matthias, and the rest in the ring, aren’t quite sure either.

WILLIAMS: “As a token of no hard feelings from my side, I thought I would bring you a gift. Now, obviously, I can’t quite make it into that ring right now. If you want, Gary can come down here and get it for you…”

Matthias turns towards Gary, who looks hesitant about the whole thing.

VASSA: “Don’t let him do it, it seems like a sneaky trick!”

JOHNSON: “Oh come on Vinny! Bryan is out here on crutches, he can barely stand as it is! He wouldn’t put himself in harms way like this, just to get one over on Matthias.”

Matthias and Gary discuss the situation some more, before eventually coming to an agreement. Gary heads out of the ring, towards Bryan. He keeps his distance, but Bryan plays it cool. Smiling big, he holds out the gift towards Gary. Matthias, who stays in the ring, tells Gary to open it at ringside.

Gary does, ripping the wrapping paper away from the gift. It seems to be a frame, a piece of paper right in the middle. Gary looks at it puzzled, as Matthias commands him to inform him of what it is.

WILLIAMS: “My gift to you, Matthias! You see, I was injured in our match at All or Nothing. The doctors feared the sprain was pretty bad, but it seems that it’s actually better than expected. Good news for me! …Unfortunately, bad news for you. The gift I bring you is a contract, signed by Perry Wallace himself. MY re-match for the Pride championship at South Beach Brawl!”

Matthias yells at Gary, trying to confirm exactly what is going on. Gary doesn’t have much time to respond, the crowd cheers as Bryan grabs a crutch and reels back. He smashes it into the back of Gary, sending him crashing to the ground! Matthias watches on in horror, the crutch crashing into Gary several more times. Bent and twisted, Bryan tosses it aside as he heads back towards the stage entrance.

WILLIAMS: “Enjoy your time, champ! You earned this. Just remember though, your hunt is over. You are now being hunted.”

Matthias screams obscenities towards Bryan, but it’s no use. “Omen” begins to play again, masking his screams. Gary stays down on the mat, as Stacy clears the ring to help him out. Bryan and Matthias stand their ground, staring each other down as we cut away.

Cut to Adrian Tanner Junior.

In a vent.

Climbing his way to freedom.

YOUNG: ”Do de de do dooo do do do, do de de do dooo do do, do de de do dooo do do do-“

KENNEDY: ”DOO DOOOOOOO!”

The Arizona Assassin sighs heavily while his two idiot best friends make light of the situation his current fuckass tag team partner has put him in from the speaker on the cell phone he is carrying in his left hand. Slung partway around his right shoulder is his half of the 4CW Tag Team Championships.

TANNER: ”Reeeeeal funny guys.”

YOUNG: ”What? I thought it was fitting.”

KENNEDY: ”Me too. Not every day we get to direct you out of a vent because your fuckass tag team partner trapped you inside your own locker room.”

YOUNG: ”That only happened one other time, if I remember correctly.”

TANNER: ”You do. Fuckin’ Marty…”

He shakes his head, then bangs it against the small ass roof of the vent system.

TANNER: ”Ow!

Are you guys gonna actually help or just sing the Mission Impossible theme?”

YOUNG: ”We can do both.”

KENNEDY: ”Oooh, we could!”

TANNER: ”Please no-“

There’s a long pause on the other end of the conversation and Adrian begins to brace for the worst.

KENNEDY: ”Calm your tits, I’ve got the maintenance guy on the other line right now.”

TANNER: ”Oh thank god.”

He breathes a sigh of relief.

KENNEDY: ”Alright, should be a fork in the road up ahead, take the left, then the right, another right, annnnnnnd another left and you should go be good.”

TANNER: ”I swear if I come out at a closet I’m gonna-“

YOUNG: ”finally prove everyone right?”

Even the maintenance guy ‘oooohs’ at that sick burn.

TANNER: ”You’re dying first.”

The Arizona Assassin shakes his head before following the directions given. A few loud, girlish screams later and the camera shifts to the backstage area where he walks out of a woman’s bathroom with a roll of toilet paper half stuck to his face. He rips the toilet paper off of his face, quickly stepping far away from the door to the bathroom.

TANNER: ”Well, that could’ve gone worse.”

He chuckles a bit, once more resting his half of the 4CW World Tag Team Championships over his shoulder where it belongs. It feels good, man.

TANNER: ”First lemme say, Evil, you’re gonna fuckin’ pay for that you fuck.”

He sighs to himself as he starts walking his way back towards the backstage area and the entrance setup.

TANNER: ”Secondly, Bronxy, are ya feelin’ it yet? Are you gettin’ antsy yet? You should, because I’m about to take you to school, and teach you some important things that everyone should know.

Things like how not to be a fucking hack like the rest of the idiots on the roster and bitching about ‘promoing first’ whatever that even means. Things like how to tell what consistency actually means and doing more research than looking at a couple of my promotional videos and going ‘hurr durr you say different things to different people every week dat means you’re not a real talent.

Jen-NAY.”

Doing his best Forest Gump after getting hit by a truck impression. He rolls his eyes.

TANNER: ”When if you had actually done any research you’d see I am the most consistent motherfucker on this roster, I’ve been telling the same story since I started in this goddamn company you fuckin’ bag of dicks.”

A small child and his mom watch on as he passes by not paying attention to his surroundings.

SMALL CHILD: ”Mommy what’s a bag of dicks?”

The mother’s eyes go wide in horror and shock, and she looks like could murder Adrian in his sleep.

TANNER: ”Whoops-“

He power walks out of that situation as quickly as possible.

TANNER: ”That story is a simple one, Bronx. Because deep down, I am but a simple man with a simple mission: I want to win all the titles. It’s been my mission statement since day motherfucking one! And it’s not changing anytime soon. I’ve already accomplished almost half of that goal. I take one more step in this tournament.

And I’m gonna step all over your broken carcass to do it.”

A hard glare into a camera as he passes by heading into the entrance setup area.

TANNER: ”I used to have respect for you. That’s all but gone now. You’re barely a competent wrestler, you’re a walking manchild with a cough syrup fetish. I know why Andy thinks you’re hilarious now, you’re Dimestore Kilroy Evans, you’re a knockoff of one of his favorite things and people.

And that’s all you’ll ever be.”

He readjusts the 4CW Tag Team Championship, switching it from one shoulder to the other.

TANNER: ”Me? I’ll be that guy dropping you on your face repeatedly till it’s a pile of black and blue mush. I’ll be that guy with his arm raised in victory at the end, just like I said I would be. Just like I ALWAYS say I’ll be.

Winning’s kinda what i do.

There’s the smirk.

TANNER: ”It’s time, Bronxy. I’d say it’s time to shut you up but you won’t shut up. You’ll play this off like it was nothin’ next week. Because for you it was nothing. Taking things seriously, learning from losses and bettering yourself just isn’t in your capacity of things to do.

That’s okay, kids love the clown routine.

It’s time to start my road to the finals of the South Beach Brawl Cup, and the 4CW Championship off right. Off the way it was always meant to start.”

He makes a finger gun motion at the camera.

TANNER: ”With a bang.”

Bang.

…..

….

meanwhile, back near the women’s bathroom.

KENNEDY (still on the phone sitting on a crate near the door) : ”Does he know he never hung up the phone?”

YOUNG: ”Eh, it ain’t my airtime we’re wasting.”

KENNEDY: ”Sometimes you’re terrible.”

Over the phone, we can hear the Young Gun chuckle.

YOUNG: ”Ain’t I a stinker?”

Cut elsewhere.

HEADLINE
SOUTH BEACH BRAWL CUP
ROUND ONE

BRONX VALESCENCE VS. ADRIAN TANNER JR.

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

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. 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 and 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.

JOHNSON :”Well, we know Bronx has been looking forward to this tournament, let’s see if he can advance here tonight?”

VASSA :”Well, Tanner won’t be an easy win for him!!”

JOHNSON :”You’re absolutely right, but if you ask Bronx, this will be Tanner’s biggest fight to date, so to speak?!”

The house lights dim to black and a video begins to play on the screen.

E A R T H A R M Y

RECRUITMENT CENTER

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.”

As the alarm goes off, the screen shatters into a million pieces as “Tom Sawyer” by Deadsy booms through the speakers and Adrian Tanner Jr appears standing in the middle of the stage, head covered by the hood of his ring jacket, 4CW World Tag Team Title belt around his waist. 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 ONE-HALF of the 4CW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS of the WOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRLD, ‘The Arizona Assassin’… ADRIAN TANNER JJUUNNIIOORR!!!”

As 4CW’s esteemed Ring 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 makes a gun motion with his left hand. He cocks the “gun”, “fires” then jumps down and begins his pre-match warmup, taking the belt off from around his waist and placing it in his corner.

DING!!! DING!!!

Tanner and Bronx start out circling each other. Tanner rushes forward and Bronx hits a hip toss. Tanner rolls to his feet as Bronx rushes forward, and hits a hip toss on him. Bronx quickly gets to his feet as the two pace around and look at each other for a moment, circling once more. Both men lunge forward and lock up. Bronx twists Tanner’s wrist and Tanner drops back, sending Bronx over with an arm drag. As Bronx climbs to a knee, he looks at Tanner who extends his arm out and points out the ‘finger gun’, giving a wink. Bronx slaps his hands on the mat and jumps up rushing forward, Tanner goes for a clothesline, but Bronx ducks it. As Tanner turns around, Bronx reaches out and lifts his leg, pulling it upward and causing Tanner to fall to the mat. As Tanner sits up, Bronx looks at Tanner shrugging, before extending his arm outward and aiming the finger gun this time. Tanner smirks and hops back up to his feet.

JOHNSON: “It’s a show-off competition tonight!!”

VASSA: “What is it with 4CW athletes and this finger gun??”

Bronx and Tanner lock up, but Bronx pulls Tanner forward and drives a knee into his stomach. Bronx grabs Tanner’s wrist and whips him against the ropes. Tanner bounces back and Bronx jumps up, connecting a dropkick to his chest. Tanner falls back to the mat as Bronx hits the ropes and rebounds off. Tanner sits up, trying to get to his feet, but Bronx slides into Tanner with an elbow before reaching down and pulling him back to his feet. He grabs Tanner’s wrist again and tosses him into the turnbuckle, causing Tanner to hit it back-first and stumble forward. As he does, Bronx grips him, using momentum to drop him down with a sling-blade.

JOHNSON: ”Bronx catching Tanner with a sling-blade!!”

VASSA: ”Right now Bronx is looking to keep the momentum in his favor!!”

Bronx sits up and looks around before climbing to his feet. Tanner rolls onto his stomach and starts to work his way to a stand as Bronx grabs Tanner under the arm and pulls him to standing position. Tanner fires a right hand, causing Bronx to let go of him. Tanner rushes forward and hits a flying knee, dropping Bronx to the canvas. Tanner stands up and goes toward the corner, ascending the turnbuckle. He turns around as Bronx stands and hops from the top rope, with a corkscrew cross-body, falling onto Bronx and hooking the leg for a pinfall.

ONE

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Bronx kicks out and rolls onto his stomach. Tanner pulls himself to his feet and reaches down grabbing Bronx under the arm. He locks Bronx head between under his arm looking for a bulldog, but Bronx pushes him off and causes him to hit the ropes. As Tanner stumbles back he hops into the air and flips a bit, connecting a Pele Kick to Bronx head. Bronx falls to the mat as Tanner boosts himself back to his feet, using the ring ropes as a crutch. He reaches down and grabs Bronx, trying to pull him to standing position. Bronx fires a chop to Tanner’s chest and then grabs at the back of his head, dropping down and dilling Tanner’s chin into the top of his head with a jaw breaker. Keeping his momentum as Tanner buckles forward, Bronx runs toward him and hops up, connecting a sunset flip into a pinfall attempt.

ONE

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Tanner shifts momentum and rolls forward reversing the pin…

ONE

.

.

TW–

Bronx kicks out as both men roll their feet. Bronx hits a knife edge chop and whips Tanner toward the ropes. He bends down for a back body drop, but Tanner scouts it, hopping into the air and locking his arm over Bronx’s head, driving him down with a jumping DDT upon his rebound. Bronx rolls onto his back as Tanner stands, causing Tanner to jump into the air and plant an elbow directly across his chest. While Bronx rolls around holding his chest on the canvas, Tanner climbs to his feet.

JOHNSON: ”Tanner picking up momentum and keeping the pace going, I love it!!”

VASSA: ”Tanner always loves to set the tempo!!”

Tanner stands up and reaches down, lifting Bronx to his feet. He sticks Bronx head between his legs with a piledriver set up. Bronx keeps his feet planted though and lifts upward, locking Tanner’s head under his arm and bolting forward, dropping him backwards with an air raid siren. After a short moment, Bronx digs his hands into the mat, and boosts himself to a stand. He runs forward and hits a running senton directly across Tanner’s stomach. Quickening the pace, Bronx rolls to his feet and hops to the middle rope, springing from the middle rope to the top rope and flipping backwards in air, landing across Tanner’s stomach with a moonsault hooking the leg as he does.

ONE

.

.

TW–

Tanner kicks out and rolls toward the apron. Bronx climbs to his feet as Tanner uses the ropes as a crutch to stand up outside the ropes on the ring apron. Bronx lunges forward with an elbow, only to have Tanner scout it and grip at Bronx’s head, dropping off the ring apron causing Bronx neck to ricochet against the top rope. With Bronx holding at his throat and stumbling back, Tanner quickly climbs back to the apron. Tanner springboards onto the top rope only to have Bronx recover and fall forward, tripping him up and causing him to drop groin first onto the top rope. Bronx grabs at Tanner’s arm and pulls him to the canvas. After taking a moment to recover, Bronx starts to climb the turnbuckles.

VASSA: ”Bronxy looking to take a high risk attempt!!”

JOHNSON: ”Always looking to steal the show, it doesn’t matter where or how!!”

Somehow Tanner recovers quickly enough to stand and rush forward, hoping to the second rope and locking Bronx around the waist before he can turn around, driving him backward from the top rope with a German Suplex. Both men roll around on the mat giving themselves a bit of recovery time. Standing at almost the same time, Tanner fires a shot that is blocked by Bronx. Bronx drives a knee into Tanner’s ribs and then tosses him over the top rope out onto the ringside floor. With a look of excitement, Bronx springs off the opposite side of the ropes and runs toward Tanner as he stands, diving over the ropes with a Tope Con Hilo.

JOHNSON: ”Bronx with a Tope Con Hilo over the top rope outside onto the ring floor across Adrian Tanner Jr!!”

VASSA: ”What height, Bronx mustta’ learned that at flight school?!”

Both men roll around in pain on the ringside floor for a moment. Bronx is the first one to stand as he uses the apron to pull himself up. Tanner, crawls his way up the steps and stands up as Bronx darts forward. Tanner catches Bronx out of the corner of his eye and dives out of the way as Bronx jumps toward him like a dart, causing Bronx to collide with nothing but ring post and ring steps.

VASSA: ”Bronx using his body as a weapon, but Tanner moved out of the way!! Bronx could have snapped his fucking neck!!!”

JOHNSON: Talk about a human torpedo!! Great awareness from Adrian Tanner, moving out of the way!!”

“One! … Two!”

With Bronx laying over the steps, Tanner drops an elbow across the back of his head. Bronx rolls to the ringside floor as Tanner climbs to a knee, taking a quick second before he stands. He leans down and rolls Bronx onto his back, locking a leg between each arm and catapulting him into the barricade. The catapult causes Bronx to drape forward over the top of the barricade. Once Tanner stands, he runs forward, hopping onto the barricade and jumping up, dropping a leg across the back of Bronx neck, causing both men to land on the concrete floor in the audience.

“Three!”

JOHNSON: “Tanner using the barricade to his advantage, landing a leg drop across the back of Bronx’s neck!!”

VASSA: ”Just like that, this match has spilled out into the crowd!!”

“Four! … Five!”

The official slows down the count and looks on from inside the ring, making sure that both men are okay. As he sees Tanner pull himself up using the barricade, he continues the count. Tanner reaches down and grabs Bronx under the shoulder, pulling him up and pushing him back over the barricade to ringside. Tanner hops over the barricade as Bronx starts making a crawl up the ring steps. He reaches out and grabs Bronx, but Bronx drives a knee into his ribs before rolling him back into the ring. Making a slow climb to the apron, Bronx waits for Tanner to stand. He jumps onto the top rope and springs off with a knee to Tanner’s face, causing Tanner to drop back down to the canvas. Bronx quickly scurries a crawl over to Tanner and hooks the leg for a pin.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR–KICKOUT!!!

Frustrated following the kick out, Bronx climbs to his feet. He reaches down and lifts Tanner to his feet. Bronx lifts Tanner over his head looking for a Death Valley Driver, but Tanner falls back behind him and spins, locking his arms around Bronx’s neck and dropping with a neckbreaker. Tanner looks around and wipes the sweat from his forehead as he stands up. Bronx reaches out and grabs the ropes, starting to pull himself to standing position. Tanner walks up behind Bronx and pulls him to his feet from underneath his arm. He tosses Bronx into the corner and delivers a knife edge chop. Tanner runs back and makes motion like a plane before rushing forward and jumping into the air, hitting a splash on Bronx against the turnbuckles. As Bronx stumbles forward,Tanner locks his head up and lifts him into the air, crossing his legs in mid-air and driving him down with his ‘Gone Baby, Gone’ brainbuster variation. Rolling over onto Bronx, Tanner hooks the leg instantly for a pin.

JOHNSON: ”GONE BABY, GONE!! TANNER WITH A PIN!!!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR–KICKOUT!!!

Tanner climbs to his feet, lifting Bronx up to a standing position. He kicks Bronx in the gut and sets him up for a flip piledriver, but as Tanner jumps, Bronx hold his legs and flings him forward, boosting him over his head and dropping him with a variation of a flashback. Bronx rolls onto his stomach, taking a breather before making a slow climb to his feet. He rushes forward as Tanner rolls onto his stomach trying to get to his feet, baseball sliding his feet directly into the side of Tanner’s face. Bronx rolls to his feet and reaches down, grabbing Tanner by his waist from behind and pulling him to a stand. Bronx lifts for a German suplex, but Tanner nails him in the face with an elbow. Bronx staggers back and Tanner rushes forward with a clothesline. Bronx ducks under Tanner’s arm. He spins around as Tanner rebounds off the opposite side of the ring ropes and comes back in his direction once more. Bronx ducks down looking for a back body drop, but Tanner scouts it and comes to a halt, quickly kicking his leg up toward Bronx face. Bronx scouts this, catching Tanner’s leg at the last possible second and spinning him one-hundred and eighty degrees.He locks his arms around Tanners waist and rolls back, coming back to his feet before executing his Rolling German Suplex, ‘For Ana’. Bronx keeps his hands locked and bridges upward for a quick pin combination.

VASSA: ”BRONX HITS THE FOR ANA, THIS COULD BE IT!!”

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THRE–

Tanner gets a shoulder up at the last split second, causing the audience to roar from the previous exchange followed by the kickout. Bronx sits up and looks around and grabs Tanner by his wrist as he stands, giving him a rough yank to his feet. He pulls Tanner forward and locks him up in a DDT set up, but Tanner pushes him off and takes a quick step back, lunging forward a drilling a superkick directly into Bronx chin, causing him to hit the mat as Tanner himself drops to a knee from exhaustion.

After a moment, Tanner stands to his feet and grips the ropes, vaulting himself over the top rope out onto the apron. Spinning around he continues to grip the top rope, waiting for Bronx to get halfway to his feet. As Bronx stands, Tanner springs off the top rope and flips in the air looking for a springboard Blockbuster, but Bronx scouts the move, and charges forward toward the ropes. Tanner notices and finishes the flip, landing on his feet and spinning around, only to get caught and driven into the canvas head first with Valescence’s Victory. Rolling onto his stomach, Bronx drapes his arm over Tanner for a pin.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

Bronx slowly sits up on the canvas looking around the arena…

POWERS: ”Here is your winner, BRONX VVAALLEESSCCEENNCCEE!!!”

JOHNSON: “Bronxy V advances with the Valescence’s Victory!!

VASSA: ”Adrian Tanner just didn’t have enough time to react and got caught during the turn around. What a competitive match filled with explosion!!”

Backstage a crowd of people have gathered near the exit doors leading to the parking garage. With the Main Event coming up, Gabriel Hartman found himself confused as he leads the camera to the thick of the crowd.

HARTMAN: “What’s going on back here?

A few people turn to Hartman and give him hoots and hollers. Girls flashing their bare breasts as Hartman begins to see smoke as the door opens and shuts letting a few more people into the garage area.

HARTMAN: “Is there a FIRE!?!”

Shoving his way passed a thick part of the crowd, he gets to the door. Pushing it open. Two of the Event Security Guards are stationed at the door. One of them looks at Hartman and notions “no” to him without saying a word. The music in the parking garage was growing loud and from around the security guard, Hartman can see that there WAS a fire burning.

HARTMAN: “HEY! Someone needs to call the fire department! Let me through! MOVE!”

Giving both of them a nudge with his shoulder he can’t get either to budge. The bigger of the two guards nods at the other and they move, giving Hartman a clear path. He heads into the garage and the doors shut behind him. The crowd of people were even thicker in here as smoke filled the area. A cold chill swept through but nobody seemed to care. As Hartman reaches the eye of the crowded storm, it comes to a clearing.

HARTMAN: “WHAT THE FUUU–“

There in the center of the only clearing in the Parking garage was a Bonfire that someone had lit. People dancing around it, some of them half naked while others danced as white as their skin tones. Gabriel Hartman every so often turning back to stare long at the camera, knowing this was a live feed couldn’t begin to make sense of it all. Then came the roar.

“RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

It was Jason Cashe and he was naked other than a homemade loincloth and a wrestling boot in both hands. Risen above his head, he steps out to the fire as it illuminates his caveman like features. The people partying with him follow up to his roar as he stands with the boots raised high above his head.

“LIGHT THAT SHIT UP!!!

Their cheers grow louder when he tosses the boots into the thick of the bonfire flames. A few Huzzahs even belted out by some freak or geek in the audience. Someone reaches out handing Cashe the first Blunt, the first piece of Marijuana he has had since the start of the New Year. The crowd gets quiet, the music fades to a low as he almost in slow motion brings the blunt to his mouth. Hitting it a few times, a few people gasp to hold their breath with him as he holds in the hit.

HARTMAN: “What the heck is going on Cashe?!”

In that moment, Cashe’s eyes cut to Gabriel Hartman. The smoke slowly begins to roll from out of his mouth. The crowd all staring at either Hartman or Cashe. As his lungs empty, Cashe extends his arms in Hartman’s direction and smiles.

CASHE: “HARTMAN!!! Welcome! Welcome to my Graduation!”

HARTMAN: “Your what?”

CASHE: “We will party tonight, I will go home and cause SOOOO many orgasms for Queef and I will sleep like a baby! RRRAAAAAAH! It feels GOOD to be me right now! Come! Come share this blunt with me, my friend!”

HARTMAN: “I–I don’t know.. I shouldn’t.”

CASHE: “Nonsense! Here take this. I NEED ANOTHER BLUNT!”

Nudging Hartman as Cashe takes to hugging him side by side.

CASHE: “Watch this…”

On request a handful of hands extend out offering up freshly rolled Blunts and Joints or some that someone was smoking on. Everyone wanted to smoke with Cashe and he was going to smoke with everyone. At least tonight. Taking the one closest to him, Cashe hands off the one he had to Hartman. Tapping the two together almost in a cheers, Cashe hits his blunt as Hartman puts his to his mouth. Not a real smoker, Gabriel Hartman begins to hack up. He drops the blunt and again everyone freezes. Cashe gasps big and stumbles back like the biggest crime was committed.

CASHE: “I invite you to smoke with me? Share in my celebration and you.. You drop the blunt?”

HARTMAN: “I.. can’t… breath!”

Choking on the inhale, Hartman was choking. He was turning dark shades of red but Cashe didn’t care. Someone hands him his new Green Mask and he slides it over his face. To conceal his identity. Snatching Hartman up at the back of his neck, Cashe walks the Head Interviewer closer to the fire. So close his skin could feel the heat and as he continues to hack up, he tries to beg Cashe to stop.

HARTMAN: “No.. Why!?”

CASHE: “WHY!?! Why did you show up here Hartman? Because we’re friends?”

Nodding Hartman would have said anything to get Cashe to release his grip but a nod wasn’t the right answer.

HARTMAN: “Yes! Yes! We are friends!”

CASHE: “NO! We’re NOT friends Hartman! You worked for me many years ago and NOW you work for a piece of shit I would GUT and leave standing with his bowels dripping to the floor at his feet! Tell the truth.”

HARTMAN: “What? I am!”

CASHE: “No! Tell me how you came snooping into find out the scoop. When you seen me your first thought was to ask questions. Not congratulate me. Not to show me love for winning another match. For rounding out the Original Era of 4CW and showing that I am the one, the ONLY original who fucking matters! So ask me Hartman, ask me the first question that comes to mind.”

How weird it must look. Cashe in a loincloth holding Gabriel Hartman’s face close to the flame where the heat was starting to burn. Hartman quickly responded with a question.

HARTMAN: “Please let me go?”

A GOOD question! One could have expected it even but Cashe didn’t let go. Not until a voice caught his attention.

“Let Hartman go Jason..”

Snapping around it was Persephone Marquis standing there, the night off and her eyes were Chinese. She had a blunt in her hand, pinched between her finger nails. Instantly Cashe pulls his mask off and releases Hartman. Almost like a kid getting caught touching himself. Cashe looked like he was in trouble.

CASHE: “He started it!”

QUEEF: “Come over here and give me a Shotgun or I’ll ask someone else.”

A smile breaks across his face, he shoves Hartman away and begins to head in a straight line to Queef. Hartman being ballsy stands up tall and calls out, asking one question. A real question.

HARTMAN: “You heard Shane Clemmens tonight.. Have anything to say about a man who claims to only be here for a “bit” as he called it?”

You couldn’t see Cashe’s face but from the look on Marquis, his reaction wasn’t good. As he turns around Cashe is staring at the ground. His head rising up slowly to stare at Hartman as he begins to approach him.

HARTMAN: “I’m sorry.. I’m sorry.. Forget I asked.”

Getting real close to the Interviewer, Cashe is almost hugging the man. Chest to chest with the camera zoomed in close enough to hear his words.

CASHE: “Like he said. He’s here for a bit.. I’ll get to that when I feel it’s worth getting too. You see Clemmens isn’t a big enough name anymore to be strutting his feathers here and calling me out. I’m here. Not hard to find and he’s looking for cameras to talk words. This isn’t Unleashed and I’m NOT Brad Jackson or Spiral. I do more than just talk…”

Backing up, Cashe shrugs with his eyebrows and shoulders. GIving Hartman an up and down glare.

CASHE: “Does that answer your question? Yeah? Good..”

Shoving Hartman back, the 4CW Interviewer falls on his ass. Everyone begins to laugh as the crowd is no question high as fuck. Turning back to Queef, Cashe gives out another RRRRAAAAAH and it pops the crowd as he proceeds to lock lips with his Fiance. Hartman scurries to his feet and runs off disappearing in the crowd as the scene cuts back to ringside for the Main Event.

MAIN EVENT
FATE CHAMPIONSHIP
TARA DAVIDSON VS. EDDIE VALENTINE ©

DING!!! DING!!!

POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall and will be for the 4CW Fate Championship!”

“Blood, blood, blood

Pump mud through my veins

Shut your dirty, dirty mouth

I’m not that easy”

As the sound of “Blood” by In This Moment fills the inside of the arena, the lights are dimmed down, leaving only a bright spotlight which shines upon the curtains as a lone female figure pushes them open stepping out to the jeers and catcalls of the crowd. Tara Davidson places her hands upon her hips as a smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth while she soaks in the reaction of the crowd. She tosses her hair back behind her shoulders before she begins to walk towards the ring with the crowd still clammoring to be heard above the pounding music.

POWERS: “”Hailing from Miami, Florida, weighing in at one hundred twenty pounds and standing five feet, four inches tall. She is ‘The Red Queen’… TARA DDAAVVIIDDSSOONN!!!”

“Blood, blood, blood

Pump mud through my veins

I’m a dirty, dirty girl

I want it filthy”

Tara approaches closer towards the ring and swiftly jumps up onto the apron as she kneels down upon one knee. She keeps one hand upon the middle rope as she looks out towards the crowd blowing them some kisses before slipping in between of the ropes with ease. Once inside of the ring, she walks towards the middle and flips her hair back one more time as the lights come back on before the music fades out leaving just the jeers of the crowd to fill the inside of the arena.

VASSA: ”You’ve got to imagine the Red Queen is looking for a bit of revenge tonight. The past month has not been friendly to her at all.”

JOHNSON: ”Over the course of the last few weeks she has lost not only the Fate championship, but also the 4CW Tag Team Championships as well.”

VASSA: ”And with the Royal Family officially ceasing to exist tonight, one has to wonder if she’ll be fully focused on the task at hand.”

JOHNSON: ”I guess we’ll find out here in a minute, Vinny. But one thing I know for sure is that Eddie Valentine is going to be a game competitor. This is going to be one hell of a main event..”

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 with the 4CW Fate Championship around his waist. 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. Wirgley 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 and the 4CW Fate Champion! Here is EDDIE VVAALLEENNTTIINNEE!!!”

Just as Valentine hits the ring with Barnes, 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 Barnes 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. As he does so the referee is busy checking with Tara for foreign objects. Once he is done with her he moves to check Eddie for the same thing.

VASSA: ”It’s here, folks. The match all of us have been waiting for all night long even in the midst of the South Beach Brawl Cup first round matchups..”

JOHNSON: ”Let’s go!”

After checking with Tara and Eddie to ensure they were both ready for the start of the match, the referee turns and waves his hand at the timekeeper, who sounds the bell beginning the conest.

DING!! DING!!

Quickly the champion and challenger meet in the center of the ring, tying each other up and vying for early control. Valentine transitions into a side headlock which he manages to maintain for a few moments before Tara places her right hand into his back and leverages him away from her, sending him running into the ropes. Eddie leaps and uses his feet to launch himself off of the middle rope, back in Tara’s direction but she sidesteps him and allows him to crash awkwardly down to the mat. Before she can get any offense going, however, the champion rolls away from her and back to his feet.

JOHNSON: ”Crash and burn, Eddie Valentine missed with that springboard whatever it was he was attempting.”

VASSA: ”Just like a bird in its first flight. He soared heroically in his descent to achieving failure.”

Eddie and Tara, once again, move to the center of the ring and tie each other up. This time it’s Tara who manages to gain the advantage, working Eddie into a side headlock, wrenching on it briefly before he counters in very much the same manner that he had. He places a hand into her back and shoves her off of him. As he does so Tara sprints to the opposite ropes, rebounds and comes back at full speed in Eddie’s direction. He’s ready for her, anticipating a flying forearm that doesn’t come. Instead, Tara drops down and drives her shoulder into the champions knee. Having caught him completely off guard, Eddie spins in the air and crashes down to the mat.

VASSA: ”Smart maneuver for Tara to focus on the legs of the speedy high flyer.”

JOHNSON: ”She sure did catch him flush with that shoulder block to the knee, too. Look at Eddie’s face, he’s clearly in pain as he holds his knee.”

As she looks across the ring at her fallen opponent, she notices the look on Eddie’s face and is quick to move toward him. While he tries to scoot away from her, Tara delivers a vicious kick to the knee that the champion was doing his best to protect. The kick snaps off his knee, causing Eddie to groan in pain. With a smirk, Tara bends down (much to the pleasure of the fans in the front row who were getting a clear look at her ass) and grabs Eddie’s foot, stepping over it. With all the patience in the world, Tara positions his knee perfectly and then leaps, driving the full wait of her body down onto Eddie’s knee.

A loud yelp escapes the champions mouth as the challenger is relentless in her assault of his leg. Repeating the same process twice more, it’s clear that something is not right with the reigning Fate Champion as his face is a mask of agony. With ease, Tara rolls him over and locks in a single leg crab, torqueing his leg in an awkward and unnatural position. The howls of pain coming from Eddie Valentine are a clear indication that something isn’t right. And then, a sound that no competitor ever wants to hear, reverberates throughout the entire arena.

PPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!

JOHNSON: ”OUCH!!!”

VASSA: ”Snap, crackle, and pop baby!”

A horrified scream cuts through the suddenly silent arena as the sound of Eddie’s hand slapping the mat is all that can be heard as the referee dives in, shoving Tara off of the fallen man. In stunned silence, the crowd looks on as Eddie curls up into the fetal position, his hands clutching at the knee which had been the focus on Tara’s attack from the second the bell had sounded. Awkwardly, a few moments after it should have happened, the bell is sounded.

DING!! DING!! DING!!

VASSA: ”Oh no… I think Eddie Valentine is seriously injured folks.”

JOHNSON: ”While we certainly always want to see the best competition, injuries are a part of the sport. This is a tough break for Eddie Valentine, who was truly just starting to get his feet underneath him here in 4CW”

As Eddie lies in the middle of the ring groaning in pain, Tara shouts at the time keeper to give her the championship. Meanwhile, medical personnel hustle down the ramp with a stretcher and slide into the ring while the referee turns to acknowledge the new champion that Mike Powers announces.

POWERS: ”Here is your winner by submission…. And NEW 4CW FATE CHAMPION… ‘THE RED QUEEN’… TARA DDAAVVIIDDSSOONN!!!”

“Blood” hits the speakers as Tara paces around the ring, holding the Fate Championship high above her head.

JOHNSON: ”We may have very well just witnessed the end of Eddie Valentine’s career ladies and gentlemen.”

VASSA: ”Oh come on now, don’t be like that. Injuries happen all the time. I wouldn’t automatically call this a career ending injury.”

JOHNSON: ”Not many wrestlers come back from injuries like that, at least from what it appeared to be.”

VASSA: ”You have to have some faith man! He’s just going to need a little rehab and he’ll be back out here in no time.”

JOHNSON: ”I hope you’re right.”

VASSA: ”Look on the bright side, the Fate Championship is back in the hands of the woman with the hottest ass in 4CW. She makes that belt look spectacular.”

JOHNSON: ”She is quite the talent and represents the championship very well. Congratulations to her for winning here tonight, despite the details surrounding.”

As the medics make it to the top of the ramp and roll Eddie along the stage, Tara dips through the ropes and begins making her climb up the ramp, headed towards the backstage area.

VASSA: ”Well damn, this ended a lot sooner than expected.”

JOHNSON: ”Injuries like this always seem to have a bad habit of cutting things short.”

VASSA: ”So… I guess we should just call it a night?”

JOHNSON: ”Not unless you want to climb in the ring and entertain the fans here tonight?”

VASSA: ”Um… nope! I’m good, no thanks.”

JOHNSON: ”Well then that’s a wrap folks. Sorry to cut things short but as you can see, things were out of our hands on this one.”

VASSA: ”I swear I had nothing to do with it. You all saw!”

JOHNSON: ”Be sure to tune in two weeks from now for Adrenaline Sixty-Three as we head down to Charlotte, North Carolina.”

VASSA: ”About time we head a little further south to where it’s not nearly as cold as this frigid hell we’re hosting from tonight.”

JOHNSON: ”South Beach Brawl is right around the corner. Before you know it, we’ll be down in sunny Miami, along the waters edge for one of the most exciting pay-per-views 4CW has to offer.”

VASSA: ”I can’t wait to see the beautiful ladies strutting around in thongs and bikinis… ASS… TITTIES… BUCKET NAKED!!!”

JOHNSON: ”Whoa now, calm down Vinny.”

VASSA: ”If your pecker still worked you’d be excited as well, but there you are, dull as ever.”

JOHNSON: ”Anyway! From 4CW, I’m Steve Johnson…”

VASSA: ”And I’m Vinny Vassa, good night!”