ADRENALINE E64 (098)

4CW ADRENALINE E64 APRIL 12TH, 2017
PHILIPS ARENA ATLANTA, GA

The picture opens to the thunderous crowd packed inside of the Philips Arena in Atlanta, Georgia. “Bull On Parade” blares through the speakers as the camera shot glides across the arena, scanning the crowd before coming to a stopping point high above the center of the ring. As the view lowers, the camera focuses on various signs held throughout the fans in attendance.

CASHE VICK

THIS TOURNAMENT
WON’T PAY OUT

PIZZA DUDE’S GOT
THIRTY SECONDS

#PHONEHOME
DEEZ NUTZ

ALEXIS MORRISON
SHOULD BE ASHAMED

JUSTICE
FOR
JETT

Behind the booth, Steve Johnson and Vinny Vassa patiently await for the signal before getting things underway. Slowly rolling in for a closer shot, the camera pictures them both in the center of the picture. With a slow nod, Johnson straightens a stack of papers in his hand before laying them down and placing one hand on top of the other. Finishing off his glass of brown liquid, Vassa wipes the excess from the corner of his mouth before slamming the empty glass onto the booth.

VASSA: ”GOOOOOOOOOD EVENING LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!!”

Turning his attention to Vassa, Johnson shakes his head for a short moment before looking back to the camera and taking lead.

JOHNSON: ”Thank you for joining us here tonight folks. We come to you live from the Philips Arena for Adrenaline, right here in Atlanta, Georgia.”

VASSA: ”Hot ‘Lanta baby!”

JOHNSON: ”I’m your host, Steve Johnson, and this belligerent one beside me is the one and only–“

VASSA: ”VINNY VASSA!!! WWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

JOHNSON: ”Calm down, Vinny. The show is only just starting and you’re already hammered here at ringside.”

VASSA: ”Hammered? I’m not hammered. I’m fucking excited! Tonight we will crown the winner of the South Beach Brawl Cup and reveal who will advance to South Beach Brawl and challenge Elijah Carlson for the 4CW Championship.”

JOHNSON: ”Oh yes we will! Just two weeks ago, Johnny Evil was able to pull an upset over the fan favored, Genevie Carlson. Later in the evening, Bronx Valescence was able to move past Scott Stevens, the man who challenged Eli at All Or Nothing only to come up short and empty handed.”

VASSA: ”This is the final round of the SBBC and only one man will advance, earning their first one on one opportunity at the 4CW Championship.”

JOHNSON: ”Johnny Evil and Bronx Valescence are destined to blow the roof off the building tonight.”

VASSA: ”Although this tournament was smaller than last years, it’s been full of twists and turns but everything comes to an end tonight. There are no more rounds. The only thing left after tonight is the big match at South Beach Brawl.”

JOHNSON: ”Let’s take a moment and look at the bracket and how things have played out thus far.”

VASSA: ”Not only do we have the finals to the tournament, but we have a stacked card from top to bottom.”

JOHNSON: ”That’s just the norm here in 4CW. Many places wish they could reach this level but only few ever do. I can honestly say that there isn’t a promotion out there today hotter than what 4CW is right now.”

VASSA: ”That’s a little biased, don’t you think?”

JOHNSON: ”No, it’s just the dang truth!”

VASSA: ”I don’t want to sit here and overshadow the final to the tournament–even though it isn’t the main event!”

JOHNSON: ”Now, now, calm down Vinny.”

VASSA: ”You calm down! Now the main event we have with Shane Clemmens, Cyrus Riddle, Jason Cashe, and Dakota Smith is great, don’t get me wrong. But this is the final round of the tournament we’re talking about here. This match will decide who will be the next 4CW Championship contender.”

JOHNSON: ”You’re right, but as I said before, the card is stacked from top to bottom. Literally any match could be the main event and a lower card match could easily steal the entire show.”

VASSA: ”Just look at it Steve.”

JOHNSON: ”It’s a damn fine match. No one is disagreeing with you.”

VASSA: ”I just think some people booking these shows lately need to get their head out of their ass. That’s all I’m saying!”

JOHNSON: ”I think you should say something to them.”

VASSA: ”MAYBE I WILL!!!”

JOHNSON: ”Great! Before you get us into any trouble here before the show officially starts, let’s take things backstage for a few moments before we come back with our opening match, a welcome party of sorts for four new signees.”

The scene opens with a pop from the crowd as Bronx Valescence has a fold out chair pulled up to his locker as he is getting his gear from his bag to get ready for the night. Sensing someone is behind him, the towering figure of Scott Stevens steps up and Bronx instantly stands up, unsure of what Stevens wants, he keeps his guard up.

VALESCENCE:”Saw you have a match against Tanner tonight, do me a favor and beat his dumb ass…Hell of a match last week by the way.”

With that, Bronx extended his hand to Stevens, even after the two had fierce words for one another the previous week. Stevens looks down at Bronx’s hand and accepts the gesture.

STEVENS: ”Plan on it.”

Stevens says sternly as he withdraws his hand.

STEVENS: ”Yes it was. I gave you everything I had and then some and it still wasn’t enough to beat you. You proved to me that you really want it and you aren’t just like these other flavors of the week who don’t think they have to earn anything.”

Nodding, Bronx picked up a water bottle he had in his locker and took a swig.

VALESCENCE: ”A lot of people see the Twitter shit and think that’s the real me. They don’t know the real me until they step between those ropes. Then they get a different taste.”

Stevens nods as he watches Bronx take another swig of water before putting it back down.

STEVENS: ”How you feeling?”

Bronx made a motion with his hand indicating he isn’t too up or too down about the match at hand.

VALESCENCE: ”A little uneasy. I know what Johnny Evil can do, I know he will do what it takes to not only win but survive. It makes me a little nervous going in…I’m confident I am better…Just nervous.”

Upon hearing that Stevens smirks a bit and slaps Bronx on the back.

STEVENS: ”It’s ok to be nervous just know that this isn’t last year and you are one more match from competing for what you’ve been busting your ass since you came back to 4CW.”

Stevens says building Bronx’s confidence even more.

STEVENS: ”Just do me a favor, ok?”

Stevens asks as Bronx is intrigued and cautious of what the Texan may ask.

STEVENS: ”Win or lose I want another opportunity at you because I know the outcome may be different if we step into that ring one more time. Plus, if you are the champion it’ll make that victory even more sweater.”

Stevens says with a chuckle. Bronx ponders it for a moment and then looks back up to Stevens.

VALESCENCE: ”You’re on. I hope to see you in there again, and I hope it’s with the 4CW championship over my shoulder.”

A huge smile forms over Stevens’ face upon hearing that.

STEVENS: ”See you soon then and good luck tonight.”

Stevens says to Bronx as he gives him a fist bump before leaving the scene to let him finish preparing for his match later tonight.

OPENING MATCH
WELCOME TO 4CW
FATAL FOURWAY

TRACE LANDO VS. KASIMIR NOVIKOV VS.
SYDNEY RIDDLE VS. LIL’ BOEING

Cutting to the ring, we are ready for our first match of the evening.

POWERS: “The following contest is a fatal four way match…Scheduled for ONE FALL!”

The first bars of Shy Glizzy’s “Awwsome” is queued up on the sound system amidst a slight roar of the audience.

”Young Jefe holmes!

“Aww!

Swish, I’m ballin’. I’m so awesome.

Oh bitch keep callin’, she think I’m awesome.

Choppers wanna rob me, I’m so awesome.

Out here like a possum, I’m so awesome.”

POWERS: ”Now introducing from Atlanta, Georgia…”

”I’m so fuckin’ awesome, I’m so awesome.

I’m so fuckin’ awesome, I’m so awesome.

I’m so fuckin’ awesome, I’m so awesome.

I’m so fuckin’ awesome, I’m so awesome.”

As the cymbal taps begin to speed up the beat, Lil’ Boeing emerges from behind the curtain with Snoopy medallion in hand, faux-flying it around while simultaneously shoulder-shrugging to the music.

POWERS: ”Weighing in at one-hundred seventy-five pounds and powered by propulsion engine, he is Dat Plane Doe…ladies and gentlemen, here is LIL’ BBOOEEIINNGG!!!”

”Oh my fucking God, pull up in that, oh my gosh

You niggas so soft, get that arrow out yo heart.

You can be a boss or you can get a job.

You do not go hard, you a mothafuckin’ fraud.”

Making his way down the aisle, Lil’ Boeing spreads his arms out airplane-style, swerving to and fro to slap hands with the audience members.

”Young Jefe, I got boats you can sail away.

Dope boy, you are not my friend, you need to get away.

Call up my driver tell him scoop me in his Escalade.

Night Sunday, bet a thousand bucks on Tampa Bay.

Got a lot of spots like a motherfucking cheetah…

All we do is trap, my OGs still got beepers.

Bad little kitty momma took my ass to jeepers…

Tryna get a ticket like no money in the meter.”

Transitioning his plane movements into a Bankhead Bounce as he approaches the ring, Lil’ Boeing climbs the apron and scales the top turnbuckle, perching himself up and once again flying the Snoopy chain to the tune of the music.

”Swish, I’m ballin

I’m so awesome.

Old bitch keep callin

She think I’m awesome.

Jackboys wanna rob me

I’m so awesome.

Out here like a possum

I’m so, I’m so awesome.”

The music fades, “Untitled 6” by N.C. his the house system.

POWERS: “The next entrant…Making his way to the ringside area, accompanied to the ring by Alioth Starre…KASIMIR NNOOVVIIKKOOVV!!!”

Kasimir stepped onto the stage, eyes dead to the world, body a tourniquet of self-image. He stretched his shoulders as his manager approached from his side. He gave the man a glance and then continued on his way, no fan-fare, no desire to interact with the crowd. He meant business, and business was about to pick up. Kasimir ducked into one of the corners opposite of Boeing and Alioth leans on the apron and they began to silently chatter until…

The house lights darken to a flickering to the sound of Otep’s “Apex Predator” suddenly and Sydney crouches just inside of the entryway. There is a heavy drum pounding in a three double count which allow her to creep her away out of the entry and out beyond. The verse flows as she stalks slowly like she has all the time in the world.

”She’s pounding on the door

She’s crawling on the floor

Oh, she’s so coy…

She’s scratching on the walls

She’s clawing at the gauze

She’s so coy…”

POWERS: ”Making her way to the ring. She weighs in at one hundred thirty-five pounds and hails from New York City by way of Chicago, Illinois. She is The Deviant! The Culling Countess! SYDNEY RRIIDDDDLLEE!!!”

As the verse flows, she takes her time smacking hands on both sides of the barrier of the entryway, going down one side the then other. Sydney slides on her belly under the ring only to pop back up and go to one of the ring posts where she thrashingly nods her head with the theme making both her fists into two rockstar symbols as she sticks her tongue out.

”Oh, you know she wants it

The way that she taunts me

Damn, she’s so coy…

It’s the Apex Predator

With a sermon for the listener

Seduce & Destroy…

Your head upon a stick

Would look really sick

But they would call me crazy

For the way I spoke to it..”

Seconds afterward, she pounds her right fist to her heart/chest twice and offers a mid-turnbuckle hope up into a crucifix pose before hopping down and shedding her multiple lengthy pocket chains to the ref as she waits for the final opponent.

“You Guessed It” Og Maco was quick to replace Riddle’s theme as the crowd gives the loudest pop of the match so far to Trace Lando makes his way out onto the stage, taking in all of the cheers he makes a motion with his hands like shooting a jump shot and then holds up three fingers on each hand before he holsters them like guns and continues his jaunt down the ramp.

POWERS: “And their opponent, making his way to the ringside area from Homer, Louisiana. Weighing in at one hundred ninety-three pounds…He is…TRACE LLAANNDDOO!!!”

Lando leaps and slides onto the apron before wiping his feet and flipping into the ring and then posing to the crowd. Riddle and Novikov scowl towards him and Boeing nods in respect before Lando nods to the referee to show that he is ready.

DING!!! DING!!!

As the bell sounds, it doesn’t take long for wrestlers to take sides. Riddle and Novikov nod to one another as Alioth Starre nods in agreement on the outside and the two instantly team up on Boeing and begin pounding him in the corner with vicious strikes. Riddle with kicks and Novikov with brutal strikes over and over. Boeing tries to cover up, as Lando looks around at the crowd and shakes his head, not going to stand for the double team. Boeing is down sitting in the turnbuckle when Riddle and Novikov turn around to see Lando, he gives a cocky shrug and races across the ring to them both, giving them both a drop kick with either leg sending them both stumbling back into the ropes and outside of the ring.

Novikov tries to gather himself against the barricade, as does Riddle as Lando races over and offers a hand to Boeing. Land helps him to his feet and then nods to the outside. They both hit opposite ropes and then through the ropes with a tope suicida! Boeing hitting Riddle and Lando hitting Novikov. Boeing and Lando both land on their feet and then both dive back into the ring as Boeing motions for Lando to switch. They bounce off the ropes again and dive through again but this time Riddle and Novikov move out of the way and Boeing/Lando crash and burn to the outside. It was Alioth who barked in the direction of Novikov to get him to move right at the last second to cause the miss.

JOHNSON: “The action is already fast paced and furious here from Hotlanta! Boeing and Lando going to the well one too many times there!”

VASSA: “In a four way match such as this when one fall wins it, you’ll see some bonds broken and created in seconds. There can only be one winner here.”

Riddle is the first to throw Boeing into the ring and Boeing rolls up and gets to his feet, Boeing and Riddle trade forearm shots before Boeing gets the upper hand and sends Riddle into the ropes on the reverse to the opposite side and instead of coming back. Boeing leaps onto the ropes with two feet into the middle ropes and propels himself back and PLANTS Riddle with a springboard cutter! The crowd pops as Riddle pops up and over to her back. Boeing makes the cover!

ONE

.

.

Suddenly Lando appears on the apron and Novikov slides into the ring.

TWO

Lando leaps into the air for a springboard to break up the pin but Novikov breaks it up and Lando comes flying in from above and realizes the pin is broken up too late, Novikov catches Trace with a SICK uppercut that smacks across the arena and Novikov motions a cut throat as he pins Lando.

ONE

.

.

TWO

Riddle dives in to break up the count as Lando rolls out to the apron holding his collarbone and Boeing gets to his feet in the corner. Riddle and Novikov stare one another down and then begin to forearm one another which gets a huge pop from the crowd as they had started out teaming up against Boeing.

JOHNSON: “And here. We. Go. We see how long alliances last in a match like this! Forearm shots so loud we can hear them through our headsets!”

VASSA: “Novikov is more of a brawler, this is in his wheelhouse but damn, Riddle is holding her own here as more of a technical wrestler!”

Novikov gets the upper hand with a hard forearm which rocks Riddle’s head back. Leaning on the ropes, she gets Irish whipped into the opposite turnbuckles from the ropes and hits hard, sternum first and bounces out. Novikov goes for a lariat but Riddle somehow ducks it, catches Novikov’s arm and locks him in a sick arm-bar which Novikov tries to fight out of. Alioth slaps the mat a few times as Riddle wrenches it in and Novikov twists and turns around to get out of it before he finally gets his legs underneath him and then lifts Riddle into the air as she continues to cling onto the hold.

Before Novikov can lift Riddle all the way up, Lando pops back into the ring and framing Novikov’s face up perfectly he rips him with a SUPER KICK! The momentum causes Riddle to break the hold and Novikov rolls to the outside as Trace leans over the ropes and points down at Novikov, paying him back for a couple of stiff shots earlier but Riddle rolls him up from behind.

ONE

.

.

TWO

Trace rolls backwards to kick out but lands on his knees and Riddle merely rolls and catches him in the back of the head with another kick, before she can make a pin though, Boeing slides back into the ring and grabs Riddle around the waist and chucks her over his head with a belly to back suplex, Riddle lands on her feet and rushes toward Boeing but he catches her with an elbow with another sickening smack which rocks her head back. Boeing then hits a spinning back fist which rocks Riddle against the ropes, then he brings both hands out with a yell.

JOHNSON: “Whoa, what could this be from Lil’ Boeing?”

VASSA: “Wait is he…Has he got her cheeks?!”

Indeed, Boeing has gotten Riddle by either cheek and is pulling them a part. The referee, unsure of what to do just shrugs as Riddle cries out in pain as she dances around trying to get away. The crowd pops and cheers for the move as finally they boo as Riddle plants a kick right between the legs of Boeing which doubles him over and he falls over to the side clutching the family jewels.

JOHNSON: “Well, that’s one way to do it.”

VASSA: “I’m not sure I have ever seen that move in professional wrestling before, but I imagine it hurts.”

Seeing Riddle clinging onto the top rope and Boeing down, Lando looks around before climbing to the top rope, much to the delight of the crowd. He looks down at Boeing and calls for the end but Riddle already on the rope shakes it enough to throw Lando off balance and he lands straddle of the top turnbuckle, the crowd groans.

Boeing slowly gets back to his feet, looking to Riddle, they nod up up to Lando on the top rope and both climb up to the middle turnbuckle and hook Lando for a double superplex. They try and lift Lando but he hooks himself onto the top turnbuckle and won’t allow them to do so. Both of them pull again, then Novikov suddenly slides into the ring and runs over to hook arms underneath both Riddle and Boeing and as they lift Lando off the top rope, Novikov SLAMS them both into the mat with a power bomb and then collapses into the corner as the crowd pops in delight of the tower of doom.

JOHNSON: “Oh my GOODNESS! Crash and burn!”

VASSA: “What an opener, the ring looks like a damn car crash right now! Nobody is moving!”

Novikov is the first to move and Riddle is the closest, he crawls over and hooks the leg.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

Riddle gets a shoulder up at the last second as Novikov doesn’t show much emotion as he grips the top of his head as he thought he had the match won. When he stands up to turn to Boeing. Boeing hits him with a drop kick which sends him between the middle ropes and back to the outside. Then he grips the top rope and leaps into the air, hitting Riddle with a sliding dropkick and sends her to the outside as well.

JOHNSON: “Lil Boeing is on fire here! He’s cleared the ring!”

VASSA: “Momentum is HUGE in a match like this! Boeing has it all right now!”

As he fires up and trash talks Riddle and Novikov on the outside, it allows Trace to get back into the match as he grips Boeing across the waist and runs him all the way over to the opposite corner and then…

JOHNSON: “HE CALLS IT THE CALRISSIAN RIDE!”

VASSA: “Boeing is folded up!”

Trace pulls Boeing back to the center of the ring and makes the cover!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

Riddle slides into the ring the same time as Novikov and they get tangled up trying to get there first.

Novikov dives forward.

They’re both too late.

POWERS: ”The winner of this match… TRACE LLAANNDDOO!!!”

Lando makes those three motions with his hands again and holsters them before the referee raises his hand.

JOHNSON: “As competitive of an opener between four newcomers to 4CW as we’ve ever had here.”

VASSA: “All of these wrestlers have shown promise in this match, I can’t wait to see how they mingle with the rest of the roster.”

The scene fades with Lando still celebrating in the ring.

We cut backstage to see Bryan Williams hanging out with his fellow Generation Now members! Mariano Fernandez, Sativa Nevaeh, Bronx Valescence, and Lauryn Wolfe are all there. They stand in the hallway, talking for a bit as the cameraman catch up with them. They all seem to be in high spirits, and it seems that they’ve all just arrived for the evening. With the cameraman finally in place, we get a glimpse as to what the conversation is heading to.

WILLIAMS: ”…Glad to see you up and about though, Lauryn. Hopefully the doc clears you soon enough.”

WOLFE: “Yeah, hopefully. It’s absolutely miserable having to wait to get cleared, but hey. Could’ve been worse.”

VALESCENCE: ”Glad you’re up and moving, Lauryn. We all know I need my tag partner back eventually. In the meantime though…”

Bronx winked at the group, as everyone knew what kind of match he had coming up later on in the show.

WILLIAMS: ”Look guys, I’m glad I caught up with you all here. Wanted to talk with you. We need to be a bit more careful heading into the future, especially with what happened to Lauryn.”

FERNANDEZ: “Roger that, mang. I’ll keep an eye out for y’all. I keep saying I ain’t gonna be no dead weight, and so help me Talos, I’ll hold on to those words.”

Bryan nods his head, as the rest of the group seems to listen.

WILLIAMS: ”We’re all doing well, we just need to watch over each other a little bit more. I don’t want to see any of you lose out on opportunities because of some idiot out there. Lauryn’s injuries are on me, and I’m going to see to it that Matthias gets what he deserves.”

VALESCENCE: ”Plus, I think Evil is going to be out to prove a point tonight. It seems like he’s got beef with all of us. I could use some extra eyes on him.”

FERNANDEZ: “Finish him like they did Pablo Escobar, chico.”

Bronx went quickly to his phone to google who Pablo Escobar was.

WILLIAMS: ”Just keep everything in mind, we’re all out here trying to do good. None of us want to see anyone in this group fail, we can only do that if we stick together.”

The group all agree, nodding their heads. Bryan gives them all a fist bump, the members seeming to go their own way as the conversation ends. Manny, Lauryn, Sativa, and Bronx all go their separate ways. Bryan stays behind, the cameras catching a worried look over his face as we cut away.

UNDERCARD
FATE DIVISION
KEEGAN RYAN VS. LORD RAAB

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

“STARTARIOT

STARTARIOT”

As the second verse was said the lights came on and Keegan Ryan is standing on the entrance ramp which gave the crowds a real heated reaction as Keegan just shrugged his shoulder and walked down the ramp.

“You can cut me, knife me, shoot me, jab me carve me up and stab me but you’ll never defeat me,

You can shoot me, blast me, gun me down, try to put me underground you’ll never defeat me,

I’ve got an army on my back and if we’re under attack you better be fucking ready,

Undeniable unity in the metal community and we’re coming to bury”

POWERS: ”Coming down to the ring, from Santa Fa New Mexico. Weighing at two-hundred and twenty-five pounds The New Mexico Madman KEEGAN RRYYAANN!!!”

He continued on down the ramp as he stopped to look at the fan who is giving him hell. He flipped that fan off as he gave a big smirk as he walked off from that fan.

“Fuck peace and quiet, let’s start a riot

Psycho or psychotic, let’s start a riot

Fuck peace be violent, let’s start a riot

Psycho or psychotic, get nuts and start a riot”

He walked up the steel stairs he went through the second rope. He walked over to the left turnbuckle as he stands there soaking in all the booing the crowds are giving him as he waits on.

JOHNSON : ”Well, Keegan Ryan wasn’t so successful last week. Let’s see how he can do this week against Lord Raab!!”

VASSA : ”This would be a big win for Ryan going into South Beach Brawl!!

JOHNSON : ”This is true, but Lord Raab at fifty years old is still throwing down with the rest of them and he’s as tough as they come!!”

“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 : ”Both men look fired up tonight!!”

VASSA : ”Good, because that’s what I like to see!!!”

DING!!! DING!!!

As the match starts Keegan Ryan comes out and tries to lock up with Raab. After a brief struggle Raab tosses him back, causing him to hit the mat back first. Keegan quickly hops up and shakes it off, realizing he can’t go that route early in the match with Raab, causing the two to circle for a moment. Raab strikes first, lunging forward, but Ryan ducks it and grips and Raab’s wrist, he goes for an Irish whip, but Raab pulls him back, leveling him with a clothesline. Reaching down, Raab grips the wrist of Ryan and pulls him to standing position. He pushes Keegan into the corner and delivers a couple shoulder blocks before stepping out of the corner a couple places and running forward to do a body splash. Keegan scouts the move and spins his body, causing an elbow to connect with Lord Raab’s chin. Raab staggers back holding his chin allowing Keegan to run forward and lock his head underneath the arm, looking for a bulldog. Raab holds his weight back, causing Ryan to struggle and lifts him into the air, dropping him back with a belly to back suplex.

VASSA: ”Keegan Ryan really struggling to get his name around since his debut!!

JOHNSON: ”He’s been known around the world, I’m sure he’ll be quick to adjust here in 4CW…”

Lord Raab reaches down and grabs Keegan to his feet from underneath his arm, lifting him to a stand. He fires a chop to Keegan’s chest and then locks him up for a belly to belly suplex. Keegan begins battling out driving a couple elbows to Lord Raabs forehead, causing him to release the lock around Ryan’s waist. Keegan delivers another elbow into Raab’s gut before locking Raab’s head under his arm, and spinning him and dropping him with a swinging neck breaker.Keegan climbs up and wastes no time, hopping up and coming down with an elbow directly onto Raab’s chest. Ryan sits up looking around before coming to standing position once more, as Lord Raab rolls onto his back.

JOHNSON: ”Keegan Ryan getting the upper hand off of the swinging neckbreaker!!”

VASSA: ”Raab is quick to attempt a stand though!! It’s going to take a lot more than that to keep The Green Monster down!!”

Keegan runs forward as Raab starts pulling himself to all fours and quickly tries to his his curb stomp variation of a finisher “Light’s Out, but Raab lifts up at the last moment and drops Keegan onto the mat with a Samoan drop. Raab sits up and pulls himself to a stand as Ryan crawls toward the corner of the ring, using the turnbuckles to pull himself up. He turns around and Raab gives him a knee to the stomach before locking him up for a DDT set up. He lifts Ryan looking for an Impaler variation DDT. Ryan kicks back and holds his weight down, firing a couple rights into the ribs of Lord Raab, allowing him to break free. He rushes forward with a clothesline, but Raab moves to the side and grabs the back of Keegan’s head, using Keegan’s own momentum as he pushes off to send him sailing over the top rope and out onto the ringside floor.

VASSA: ”Lord Raab just sent Keegan Ryan flying over those ring ropes!!”

JOHNSON: ”This is where things always get interesting!!”

Lord Raab ascends the ropes as Keegan stands up. Raab dives from the ropes, looking for a clothesline, but Keegan Ryan takes a step back and as Raab lands ringside, Ryan kicks him in the stomach and then grips his wrist, whipping him into the barricade, causing him to collide with the steel back first. Raab staggers forward and get’s kicked in the midsection by Keegan Ryan once more, getting locked up and quickly getting dropped down onto the ringside floor mat head first with a ddt.

JOHNSON: ”Talk about brain scrambling!!”

VASSA: ”Please, that’s nothing Johnson! Raab is constantly taking moves that could cause ten times over the limit of brain damage!!

“One! … Two!”

Keegan lifts Raab to standing position and places him against the barricade. He backs up a bit and runs forward in an attempt for a body splash, but Raab catches him in the air and runs forward with him, smashing him back first against the ring post. He lets go of Keegan, causing Keegan to stagger forward. Raab gives Keegan a kick to the gut and shoves his head in between his legs as he buckles down. He lifts Ryan into the air, holding him up for a second. Raab turns Ryan a bit and drills him downward with a powerbomb back first onto the ring apron.

SMAAAAAASSSSHHHHHH!!!

“Three! … Four! … Five!”

Keegan rolls around on the floor, clutching his back in pain as Raab steps over to him and leans down lifting him to his feet. Raab rolls Keegan into the ring and takes a quick breather before rolling back into the ring himself through the bottom rope. As Ryan rolls onto his stomach, Raab rolls onto his stomach and crawls forward, dropping on top of him and hooking the leg for a pin.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR–

Keegan Ryan manages to kick out and rolls onto his stomach beginning a crawl toward the ropes on the opposite side of the ring. Raab pulls himself to his feet and slowly stalks behind Ryan who reaches out and grabs the bottom rope using it as a crutch to pull himself to his feet. Raab stays on the prowl and as Ryan turns around, Raab jolts his arm forward, looking to grip the neck for a Chokinator. Ryan scouts it at the last second and ducks under Raab’s arm, spinning around and gripping Raab’s shoulders from behind. Keegan pulls Raab backwards, hopping into the air, and driving both knees into his back executing the Rearranged. Off the impact, Raab jolts into the air and lands sideways onto his stomach. Keegan rolls onto his stomach and uses his hands and shoulder to nudge Raab over onto his stomach before dropping his arm across Raab’s chest for a pinfall.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THRE–

JOHNSON : ”NO WAY!!”

VASSA : ”HE’S ALIVE, STEVE!! LORD RAAB IS ALIVE!!!”

Frustrated, Ryan sits up and looks around before climbing to his feet. He watches as Raab slowly climbs to all fours. Keegan smacks Raab in the back of the head to toy with him for a moment before lifting him to standing position. Keegan fires a low kick, looking to catch Raab in the groin in typical heel fashion, but Raab blocks it off and fires a wild kick into Keegan Ryan’s stomach before locking his head under his arm and executing double underhooks. Raab lifts Keegan into the air, drilling him head first with a Killer Buster, before rolling Keegan over and hooking the leg.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

VASSA : “It’s all over!!!”

JOHNSON : “Keegan Ryan tried to take the low road, and got caught in the process!!”

POWERS: “Here is your winner…. The Green Disease Monster, LORD RRAAAABB!!!”

Monster by Skillet begins to play through the speakers as Raab climbs to a knee, looking around the arena. He pulls himself to standing position as the official comes over and raises his hand in victory.

We come backstage to see Sativa Nevaeh walking the halls with intent. The 4CW Extreme Title strapped around her waist. She gets to a door whose nameplate reads PERRY WALLACE. She reaches for the doorknob but stops with her hand hovering above it. She then decides to knock on the door.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

WALLACE: “Yeah, it’s open!”

Sativa opens the door and enters the room.

NEVAEH: “Hey Wallace, I need to talk to you about something.”

WALLACE: “Come on in, I guess.”

Looking down at his phone, Perry swipes his fingers a few times before placing it onto the desk and looking up to Sativa as she enters the room.

WALLACE: “If you’re here to fuck with me after being given a new championship belt, you can see yourself the fuck out right now. So, what can I do for you?”

He says as he leans back in his chair, getting himself comfortable.

NEVAEH: “Actually I wanted to talk to you about the whole resurgence of violence I brought back to this title. Specifically my defense at South Beach Brawl.”

A short moment of silence overtakes the room as Perry looks on without saying a word. Leaning forward, he grabs his glass of scotch from the desk and takes a drink. Leaning back once more, he places both hands on top of his head, interlocking his fingers, before crossing one leg over the other.

WALLACE: “With the way things have been going over the recent weeks, it’s only fitting for you to defend against Viduus. You two have been at each other following All Or Nothing.”

Sativa smirks and nods her head slightly.

NEVAEH: “That’s fine, I don’t care who I face. What I’m interested in is the match type. This will be the first official Extreme Title match in well over a year. It needs to be something special. Something memorable.”

She pauses for a moment letting that wicked grin of hers to slowly creep across her face.

NEVAEH: “Something bloody.”

With a smirk, Perry shakes his head before leaning forward in his chair.

WALLACE: “That time of the month, huh?”

Grabbing his glass, he finishes the contents before setting it aside and standing to his feet. Walking to the other side of the room, he grabs a bottle of scotch before returning to the desk and having a seat. Pouring himself a glass, he looks up to Sativa.

WALLACE: “I kid, I kid. So, what do you have in mind? This is South Beach Brawl after all where literally everything is a brawl between whoever the fuck has a match against each other.”

NEVAEH: “You see that was giving me some trouble. I have been brainstorming ever since you gave me this new belt. I even sat down with Eric Lee to help come up with something violent. And we finally came up with something.”

Sativa cracks her knuckles and absently licks her lips as the idea flashes in her mind again.

NEVAEH: “I want this to be a Taipei Deathmatch!”

Topping off his glass, he tilts the bottle upward to where it no longer pours any of the liquid. Cutting his eyes upward to Sativa, shakes his head with a smile on his face.

WALLACE: ”You mean like that fucking movie? The two of you covering your hands with all kinds of shit and beating fuck out of each other? Like that?”

NEVAEH: “Basically. The way Eric explained the ones he was in to me we would be taping up our hands and wrists and then cover the tape is glue and then glass.”

Biting his lower lip, he thinks to himself for moment before placing the bottle down and grabbing his glass.

WALLACE: “Sounds like it will sell to me.”

Leaning back, he takes a small drink, wetting his lips before speaking once more.

WALLACE: “Just do me a favor. Actually, I’m going to need both you and Viduus to do me a favor.”

Sativa raises an eyebrow before glaring at Wallace.

NEVAEH: “What kind of favor?”

WALLACE: “I’m going to need the two of you to get a tetanus shot both before and after the match. I’m not so sure about his bill of health, but I’m going to need to see a note from your doctor saying that you don’t have AIDS.”

Sativa chuckles.

NEVAEH: “After all the blood I have spilt since winning this belt NOW you worry? I’m clean and I’ll get you the damned note.”

WALLACE: “I was just playing, calm down!”

Taking another drink, he leans forward with a serious look in his eye.

WALLACE: “But for real though. I’m not joking about the tetanus shots. I don’t need you two getting infected and starting a whole goddamned zombie apocalypse.”

NEVAEH: “I’ll get a note from my doc for ya. I got one before my match at Winter Wasteland. So I’m good for another decade.”

WALLACE: “Well there you have it! You get the match with Viduus at South Beach Brawl with the Extreme Championship on the line. You two just don’t fucking kill one another.”

Another smirk and chuckle from Sativa. She then puts on her best Ivan Drago impression.

NEVAEH: “If he dies, he dies.”

WALLACE: “Still ain’t as good as Over the Top.”

Sativa shakes her head before turning to leave.

NEVAEH: “Thanks, Wallace. Guess you aren’t as bad as I remember. Could just be early enough in the night. Who knows. Now, I’m gonna go out there and make an announcement.”

Sativa heads to the door and opens it. She turns that wicked grin over her shoulder at Wallace before exiting the room and closing the door behind her.

UNDERCARD
MARIANO FERNANDEZ VS. KIBA BUNSON

JOHNSON: ”Do you like Skyrim?”

VASSA: ”Not really, why?”

JOHNSON: ”Because Mariano Fernandez is in the house! Vinny, the Gadfly is in the building! He’s about to go one on one with Kiba Bunson.”

VASSA: ”Oh, that’ll be pretty cool. Manny has had a bit of a turnaround lately, a win here could really give him some good momentum.”

JOHNSON: ”Kiba Bunson is looking for a win as well, this seems to be an important match for both of these guys.”

VASSA: ”Yes indeed, let’s get this shit started!”

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 six feet tall and weighing in at one hundred eighty 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 Mike Powers.

FERNANDEZ: “FUS RO DAH!!!”

Mariano stands in the ring, waiting for his opponent to show up. He stands around, trying to get loose as he prepares for the upcoming match. “The Red” begins to play, as Mariano looks towards the entrance. Something seems to be up though, as nobody seems to come out from the back. With the music playing, and nobody emerging, the crowd begins to wonder what is happening. Mariano looks towards the ringside announcer, asking what is happening.

JOHNSON: ”It seems that something is going on. Kiba Bunson’s music is playing, but he’s nowhere to be seen.”

VASSA: ”Give him a few seconds, maybe he’s taking a shit.”

With nobody really sure what’s happening, “The Red” starts yet again. A few seconds pass again, but Kiba Bunson still has yet to be seen. Suddenly ”Billy Crystal’ by Yelawolf hits the speakers as the crowd erupts with laughter. Walking out from the back, Freedumb power struts out onto the stage with a glass pipe in one hand and a leash in the other. At the end of the leash, a sad, pathetic dog follows along, limping with each step taken.

POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen, coming to the ring from Bay Point, California, weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds and standing five feet, eight inches tall! He is accompanied to the ring by–wait a second–accompanied to the ring by his neighbors dog! He is the ‘Master(de)bater’ and seventy-two hour tweeting sensation… FFRREEEEDDUUMMBB!!!”

Freedumb smirks as he passes the fans on his way down the ramp, literally dragging the dog behind him who is unwilling to follow. The fans throw trash at him, yelling for animal rights, some even holding signs.

YOU DESERVE
THE LEASH

#BAITED

Once reaching ringside, Freedumb pulls the dog in by the leash before picking it up and lifting it in the air. Puckering his lips, Freedumb leans in to give it a kiss but before he can, the dog bites him on the nose, forcing Freedumb to release him. Falling backwards to the ring and crashing against it, he reaches for the leash but misses as the dog races up the ramp and disappears into the back. Sadness then overcomes his facial expression before he rolls underneath the bottom rope and enters the ring alone.

JOHNSON: ”…Great.”

VASSA: ”Fucking Freedumb is here. Jesus Christ.”

JOHNSON: ”Mariano Fernandez looks very confused. I honestly don’t blame him, I guess something happened to Kiba Bunson?”

VASSA: ”I’m not hearing any reports right now, but it seems Freedumb will be taking his place tonight. Dude’s getting a payday!”

JOHNSON: ”Well, we all know where that is going…”

VASSA: ”Yeah, now that you mention it we’re directly feeding his habit with this match. …OH WELL!”

UNDERCARD
MARIANO FERNANDEZ VS. FREEDUMB

Mariano, confused, stares at the man standing before him. Grossly overweight, with no real neck to be seen. He flexes, staring right at Mariano as the bell rings!

DING!!! DING!!!

Freedumb charges, well …it’s more of a slow trot, towards Manny. He almost hops into his arms, or attempts to. If he could jump he would have totally jumped into his arms. Instead he trips, falling right into Mariano’s open arms. Manny stares at him confused, as Freedumb complains about his right leg. It seems that the simple act of trying to run as given him a terrible cramp. No doubt a factor of his recent meth binge, I doubt he stayed hydrated at all.

JOHNSON: ”Freedumb not looking good here, has he kept in ring shape?”

VASSA: ”He has certainly kept some kind of shape, for sure.”

He tries to pull Mariano down to the mat, but Manny pushes him down. Mariano swats away at his chest, dirt and dog hair covering him now. Mariano yells at Freedumb, telling him that he’s a mark. Freedumb quickly rages, almost instantly, at this comment. He tries getting up to a knee, but can’t because of his poor physical condition. It’s a terrible sight to see, really. The crowd doesn’t even want to boo, they just feel bad for the guy. Thankfully though he struggles up to his feet, already gassed less than a minute into the match.

JOHNSON: ”This is pathetic.”

VASSA: ”Hey, give the guy some credit for showing up. He’s trying, and that’s all that matters.”

JOHNSON: ”This is a waste of time! Manny could be playing Skyrim right now, chico!”

VASSA: ”FUCK SYRIM!”

Freedumb yells for Mariano to come at him, but it comes out weird. It seems like he was trying to say “come on” and then tried to say “come at me” instead. So what comes out is “come on me”, which obviously creeps out Manny. Not wanting to waste anymore of his, or anyone else’s time, Mariano delivers a Dropkick to his knee! Freedumb yells in pain, grabbing his right knee as he tries to get back up. Manny doesn’t even bother with the theatrics, instead opting to deliver an instant Shining Wizard to the face of Freedumb! With these precious few minutes having been a complete waste, Mariano quickly covers him for the pin!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

POWERS: ”Here is your winner, MARIANOOO FFEERRNNAANNDDEEZZ!!!”

JOHNSON: ”Well, Manny puts us all out of our misery here. He gets the win!”

VASSA: ”Poor Freedumb, not really tho.”

“Song of the Dragonborn” begins to play, as Mariano has his hand raised in victory. I guess you could call this a win, Freedumb is laying there crying in pain. Where’d his dog go anyway? It’s probably running around, eating shit in catering or being murdered by Jason Cashe.

Cyrus Riddle marches down one of the many hallways in the backstage area, the look on his face that of a man on a warpath. Members of the staff make sure to get out of his way, and if they don’t Cyrus wasn’t above giving shoving them to the side. Cyrus goes to turn a corner, but quickly ducks as a fist swings and smacks against the concrete wall. The man who threw that fist was none other than Dakota Smith! Quickly realizing the situation Cyrus shoves Dakota back before executing a sickening headbutt right to the butcher’s forehead. Cyrus goes to press the attack but Dakota throws his arms up.

SMITH: ”CALM THE FUCK DOWN CYRUS! I just want to talk!”

The look of anger never leaves Cyrus’s face as Dakota chuckles a little bit to himself, holding onto the hand that he smacked against the wall. Dakota runs his tongue over his bottom lip, as a sinister grin grows across his face.

RIDDLE: ”Funny way of starting a conversation. ”

SMITH: ”Had to get your attention somehow, You see, I just wanted you to know that tonight.. This little match that Wallace has set up, It’s a fucking joke! Me and you both know it. Shane Clemmens, I mean seriously? Who the fuck even is that guy? And me teaming with that mongrel cousin of mine… Well it just doesn’t sit right with me… I want your death to be untainted, I want it to be as glorious as i’ve seen in my dreams… But this, this is just premature.. I mean, it would be a shame if you couldn’t even make it to South Beach Brawl… ”

RIDDLE: ”I’d make it regardless. Wouldn’t want to disappoint the world when I bury you under the ring, now would I? Everyone will be given a piece of the Butcher after I cut you into pieces. I’m not one to deny the spectacle.”

A loud, forced “HA!” escapes the lips of the butcher as he pushes his back up against the wall behind him. The butcher tilts his head to the side as a sinister, yet almost child-like grin formed upon his crooked lips.

SMITH: ”Talk a big game Cyrus, because that’s what you do! But i’m just trying to think about what’s best for you, and that pretty little family of yours. How on earth could your little slit of a wife go on raising a bastard child all on her own? This is the last warning i’m going to give you Cyrus – and I wanted it to be face to face. You can still turn back, go crawl back to that happy-go-lucky life you came from and just let dead dogs lie. Do you really want this Cyrus? You know what happens when someone steps in the ring with me – you have witnessed first hand on the suffering that burn into the flesh of all those who stand in my way. Are you prepared to look your child in the eyes knowing that I’ve devoured the man who used to be his father? ”

Cyrus, now nose to nose with Dakota, smirks as a low chuckle escapes him.

RIDDLE: ”Don’t forget who drew first blood. Had I intended on backing away, I wouldn’t have come back. I’m out to do exactly as I wish, and that is to prove that Dakota Smith is more smoke and mirrors than substance. People wanted to know who would win in a battle of Omerta, and I know I… am… the one. All my pain, all my suffering, all the depravity that courses through my mind on a daily basis, is all reserved for you and Miami.”

A dog-like snarl washes over the butcher’s face as he lets out a low growl from deep within himself. He pushes Cyrus back, and out of his face before snapping his jaw at him.

SMITH: ”YOU DON’T WANT THIS CYRUS! Think about your family!… I know I am. ”

Dakota starts to chuckle, in a very low almost maddening tone. Cyrus raises his brow and looks to the side before staring into the eyes of the Butcher.

RIDDLE: ”Keep that… because my family and I are going to marvel at your head stuffed on our wall from April 26th onward. It’ll be my greatest trophy.”

From out of nowhere, Perry Wallace walks into the picture with caution.

WALLACE: Fellas, what seems to be the problem here? You guys will get your chance to dance in that ring later on tonight, and then again at South Beach Brawl. All this dirty talk and foreplay is just a waste of time with you two. We both know damn well you’re doing to fuck the shit out of each other at South Beach Brawl… figuratively speaking of course.”

He then turns his head in Dakota’s direction, looking The Butcher in the eyes.

WALLACE: ”Figuratively, right? I know what you’re capable of but you aren’t literally going to fuck him, are you? These bullshit talks between us bring back memories. Well, until someone had to ruin things.”

He then turns his attention over to Cyrus.

WALLACE: ”Yeah, how bout that? And here we are now. You two gunning for one another’s heads as if this were a game of sport or something. I for one know exactly what you two are capable of and I know goddamn well a ring isn’t going to contain the destruction and chaos that you two possess. This is South Beach Brawl! We have like the whole goddamn block sectioned off to ourselves. You two can literally beat the shit out of each other up and down the streets of South Beach.”

RIDDLE: ”Then perhaps that’s what we will do. Miami needs some reconstruction, and I’ll use this cunt as a wrecking ball. You just be sure that you don’t turn twat and try to keep things confined. Once this happens, stay out of it.”

WALLACE: ”Oh it’s a done deal! We’re already paying to have the entire section shut down from all traffic. We might as well use it all for more than just one big cluster fuck of a party. I want those streets of Miami bloodier than they were in the eighties when gangs were getting shot up left and right when coke first hit the city. Can you two gentlemen oblige?”

A smirk comes across Riddle’s face as he nods.

RIDDLE: ”I’m bloody in.”

WALLACE: ”Well then, looks like we have a street fight on our hands. I can already assume that Dakota here is definitely up for a little urban warfare. Just do me a favor. Don’t kill each other tonight and give us a goddamn match at South Beach Brawl worth watching.”

SMITH: ”Fuck off!”

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 Extreme Championship draped over her shoulder. She stares almost vacantly out at the crowd. She slowly starts to make her way to the ring.

JOHNSON: “Here comes our Extreme Champ. She isn’t scheduled for competition tonight. Wonder what she has in store for us.”

VASSA: “It doesn’t matter what she is here for Steve, you are gonna shut your mouth and listen!”

“She is not scared to die..

The best things in life drive her to cry.

Crucify then learn..”

Sativa ignores the jeers and hate from the crowd. She makes a circuit of the ring looking out at the crowd the entire time. She slides the Extreme belt into the ring then rolls under the bottom rope. She collects the Extreme Championship and then heads to a waiting member of the ring crew to get a mic. She then paces around the center of the ring, waiting for the crowd to die down.

NEVAEH: “You know I got all night.”

The crowd starts up with their hate towards her again. Sativa just smiles and continues.

NEVAEH: “When I won the XTV Title back before Winter Wasteland I had a vision. A vision of rivers of blood. A vision I have brought into reality. That is why I was given the renewed Extreme Title. Now, I just got done talking to Perry Wallace a little bit ago.”

The crowd pops at the mention of the 4CW owner. Sativa shakes her head in confusion at the crowds reaction.

NEVAEH: “I had a nice conversation with him about the next Extreme Title match, coming up at South Beach Brawl.”

Another pop from the crowd for the up coming PPV.

NEVAEH: “As you all know after I was handed my shiny new title I came out and called out anyone who thought they could step up and take this belt from me. Viduus Morta decided to come out and play his little mind games. Well, he thought he has what it takes. So last Adrenaline I showed him what is involved.”

Sativa pauses and chuckles, remembering the blood bath she gave Viduus.

NEVAEH: “So, in keeping with the violent history of this title, I requested an Extreme Title match for Viduus at South Beach Brawl.”

Crowd pops once again for the PPV and the match.

NEVAEH: “We have had a Prison Escape and a Hangman’s Crusade match at the last two super shows. This time, it will be a brawl to be remembered.”

Sativa pauses, leaving the crowd pained with anticipation.

NEVAEH: “At South Beach Brawl you will see me defend the Extreme Title against Viduus Morta, in a Taipei Deathmatch!”

The crowd erupts into cheers for the bloody match announcement.

JOHNSON: “OH MY GOD! Sativa Nevaeh has gone off the deep end!”

VASSA: “I love it Steve! Someone is gonna die in Miami!”

Sativa grins wickedly at the blood lust the crowd is showing.

NEVAEH: “Miami will be a bloodbath. I will bathe in the blood of Viduus and…”

The arena suddenly goes dark as a faint laugh can be heard from one corner of the arena and then another corner before it grows and the lights flash back on. The edges of the ring are covered in blood as Sativa is in fighting stance looking around. The arena darkens again before a whisper fills the arena “Ours…” as the “s” sound drags out. The lights flash on and the only thing left standing in the middle of the ring is Viduus, with his head tilted to the right signaling for the title around his waist. Once more the lights flash and when they come back Viduus is gone.

Backstage, the cameras begin to follow Alexis Morrison. She is shown walking through the narrow hallways of the Philips Arena looking down at her phone while playing a mindless phone game. Alexis soon finds herself bumping into none other than the ‘Distorted Angel’ Amber Ryan as she makes her way towards the ring.

Both of them pause, clearly agitated in the moment before realizing that the offending party isn’t just some ignorant civilian.

MORRISON: “Nice shoes.”

With a knowing half smile, Amber glances down at her odd converses peeking out from beneath the hem of her cargo pants. One blue glitter, one lime green.

RYAN: “Nice shirt.”

Alexis nodded at the compliment, adding a half smile of her own before looking down at her Nirvana shirt that she wore to the Philips arena that day. It doesn’t take long before the woman would soon respond as words flowed out from her lips.

MORRISON: “Thanks. I see that you have a match tonight against Keaton Saint. Good luck with that. I hear he’s really good. Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.”

Amber shrugs, her lip twitching briefly as she rolls up the sleeves of her black hoodie.

RYAN: “Anyone can beat anyone on a given night. I like my odds for the most part. By the way I suppose congrats are in order for that battle royal win and all.”

MORRISON: “Thank you. I went out and did what I said I would do. It was tough. I’m not going to lie, especially with the match being a battle royal. Anything can happen. In the end though, when it was all said and down, I left the Spectrum Center winning the Number One Contendership for Tara Davidson’s Fate Championship.”

RYAN: “It was entertaining as hell.”

Alexis Morrison smirked and then looks at Amber.

MORRISON: “I suppose it was. I think they’re calling for you. Again, good luck out there against Keaton Saint. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

Amber shrugs with a knowing smile as she turns to walk away, pausing before she can get three full steps away.

RYAN: “I doubt you’d be disappointed either way. Just do us a favour yeah? Win the damn thing.”

With a certain cocky spring in her step, Amber makes her way down the corridor- awkwardly pulling the hoodie off and tossing it at some random employees trying to have a conversation as she disappears towards the curtain. Alexis continues to smile as the cameras start to fade to the ringside position.

UNDERCARD
KEATON SAINT VS. AMBER RYAN

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

“In the end you’ll know my name”

The arena lights begin to flash in tune with the drumbeat of “King” by Saint PHNX, signifying the arrival of Keaton Saint who makes his presence felt at the top of the ramp. Saint looks out to the arena crowd, taking in the atmosphere before concentrating on the ring.

“I just want to scream

That nothing’s what it seems

I’ll just keep believing

One day I’ll be king

Say it loud enough

I ain’t going nowhere

You can’t break me down

One day I’ll be king”

Saint progresses to the ring, taking time to acknowledge his supporters and exchange high-fives and respect.

POWERS: ”Making his way to the ring from London, England and weighing in at two hundred and forty-eight pounds. He is known as the ‘Patron Saint of Professional Wrestling’, he is KEATON SSAAIINNTT!!!”

Saint enters the ring and stretches himself, testing the tautness of the ropes before going to a corner and preparing himself for the upcoming match.

VASSA: ”Keaton made his debut two weeks ago against Keegan Ryan and was able to walk away with the victory.”

JOHNSON: ”He’s made quite the name for himself in other promotions over the years. I’m happy to see him off to a good start here in 4CW.”

VASSA: ”This isn’t a knock at Keegan by any means, but Keaton has a bit of a tougher challenge here tonight with the lovely Amber Ryan.”

JOHNSON: ”Given his history, the ‘Patron Saint of Professional Wrestling’ is no stranger to big matches and tough opponents. This should be just another day in the office for him.”

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.

POWERS: ”And the opponent!”

“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.

JOHNSON: ”Amber has really found her way in 4CW as she’s off to an impressive start.”

VASSA: ”Did you expect anything less? We all knew what she was capable of before signing with 4CW.”

JOHNSON: ”You never know, some folks have a hard time adjusting to new surroundings but Amber had adapted quite well and I believe she’ll do big things here in 4CW.”

VASSA: ”Let’s hope so. She been a little busy as of late competing in a tournament outside of 4CW. Hopefully her success from earlier in the week can carry over tonight.”

JOHNSON: ”She had a challenge two weeks ago with Lauryn, but her opponent tonight brings a good bit of experience in the ring with him. This should make for a very interesting match up.”

DING!!! DING!!!

With the sound of the bell signaling the start of the match, both wrestlers shoot from their corners and quickly approach each other until meeting face to face in the ring. Circling the center, Amber strikes first with a left jab to Keaton’s nose, stunning him for just a short moment. Spinning around, Amber connects with a backfist for Keaton’s jaw, following it up with an elbow to the gut. Reaching back, she wraps her arm around Keaton’s head before bringing him down to the canvas with a snapmare driver.

VASSA: ”Amber has a very unorthodox style of wrestling.”

JOHNSON: ”Everyone has their own style of wrestling which makes them unique here in 4CW. Amber’s is a great addition to that mixture.”

Pulling Keaton up from the mat, Amber locks her arm around his head and grabs the back of his pants. Her feet then burst with energy as she drives them into the canvas, lifting Keaton into the air for a suplex. Just as he reaches his highest point, Keaton twists and slips out of Amber’s arms, dropping down to his feet behind her. Wrapping her up around the waist, he locks his hands together. Firing away, Amber throws elbows back into Keaton’s face but is unable to break his hold before he lifts her up for a German suplex. Pulling his hands apart, Amber escapes the hold, rolling backwards and coming down to her feet as Keaton hits the canvas empty handed.

Before Keaton can push himself up, Amber strikes with multiple kicks to his shoulders, keeping him down. She then jumps straight into the air and comes down with a double foot stomp, only to miss as Keaton rolls out of the way. Keaton swings his body around, sweeping Amber’s legs out from under her and dropping her to her back. The two quickly race to their feet, Keaton making it to his first. As Amber stands, Keaton slides in, slapping her across the chest with a knife edge chop. Amber fires back with a jab to his mouth, only to catch a European uppercut in return from the Patron Saint.

Kicking Amber in the stomach and folding her over, Keaton quickly grabs onto her and lifts her up and over, dropping her to the mat with a snap suplex. Keaton rises first, followed by Amber. Closing the gap between the two, Keaton kicks her in the gut again and this time, wraps his arm around her head and hooks her leg. Instantly, he lifts her up and slams her to the canvas with a fisherman suplex, bridging it for the pin as the official races in for the count.

ONE

.

.

TW–

VASSA: ”Keaton ha–“

JOHNSON: ”Amber kicks out just at the two!”

VASSA: ”OOHHHH!!!”

Standing to his feet, Keaton then pulls Amber to hers, standing her up straight. Drawing back, he then swings forward, hitting her in the face with a forearm shot. Backing her up across the ring, Keaton hits her with multiple forearms and elbow until she finally comes to a stop with her back against the corner. With Amber trapped now, Keaton fires away with multiple knife edge chops across the chest.

VASSA: ”Be careful with her chest Keaton!”

JOHNSON: ”Wow, really?”

As Keaton’s hand closes in for another knife edge chop, Amber grabs onto his forearm with both hands, stopping it just before contact is made. She then pulls him in as she lunges her head forward, ringing his bell with a headbutt. Turning her body, she then pulls Keaton into the corner and slams him against it. Going to town, Amber unloads with a combination of knee and elbow strikes, slowly breaking him down until he drops to a his knees with his back against the corner. Back stepping to the center of the ring, Amber then charges forward at full speed, driving her knee into his face!

Instead of going down, Keaton leans back against the corner as Amber gets back to her feet. Kicking her foot up from the mat, Amber swings her body around and aims for his head. Catching her foot in both of his hands before she takes his head off, Keaton pops back up to his feet before lifting her foot even high and pushing her backwards, launching her into the air. Amber hits the mat but rolls backwards, pushing herself up to a handstand and then dropping back to her feet. The two then charge towards one another, Keaton going for a clothesline as Amber drops to the canvas and slides underneath him as he passes by. Popping back to her feet, Amber kicks Keaton in the back of the knee, forcing him to drop down to it. Running to the ropes in front of him, she comes back on the return, jumping with her legs forward and wrapping them around his head before planting his head into the canvas with a hurricanrana driver.

JOHNSON: ”Amber’s speed is paying off for her.”

VASSA: ”She better hope it’s just enough to get this three count.”

Rolling Keaton over to his back, Amber makes the cover.

ONE

.

.

TW–

VASSA: ”WHAAAAAAAAT!?!?!”

JOHNSON: ”Keaton may have been able to kick out of that but he’s definitely going to have a headache for the rest of the night.”

Back on her feet, Amber circles Keaton for a moment before pulling him up. She then goes to whip him to the ropes but instead, Keaton reverses and sends her off to the races. As Amber comes back on the return, Keaton lifts her off her feet and spins her around with a tilt-a-whirl. Wrapping her legs around Keaton’s head in the process, Amber counters with a head scissors. Just as her body fully extends upside down to launch Keaton into the air, Keaton wraps his arms around her waist, using all of his strength to pull her back up. Taking a few steps forward, he then drops her to the mat with a sit-out powerbomb!

JOHNSON: ”A reversal to a reversal!”

VASSA: ”Amber was quick enough to counter his move but Keaton just wasn’t going to allow that to happen!”

JOHNSON: ”That’s one of the advantages in having more strength than your opponent.”

With Amber spread out across the mat, Keaton slowly rises to his feet and then takes off for the ropes. As he comes back, he drops to the mat, sliding feet first, and driving both into the side of her head. Back up, he lifts Amber to her feet and hits her across the chest with a stinging knife edge chop. Pulling her head in, he wraps it up before taking a few steps forward while dragging her. Jumping forward, he drives her face into the canvas with a bulldog. Rolling her over to her back, Keaton then makes the cover.

ONE

.

.

TW–

Popping her shoulder up from the mat, Amber breaks up the pin. Keaton quickly stands and pulls Amber up. After hitting her with back to back blows to the head, Keaton then jumps up and plants both feet into her chest with a dropkick, sending her stumbling backwards to the ropes. As she returns and he stands, Keaton wraps both arms around her, lifting her off her feet and throwing her over his head with a belly to belly suplex. Turning to the corner, Keaton rushes over and climbs to the top. With Amber down and within distance, Keaton then leaps from the top and comes down with an elbow drop.

JOHNSON: ”NNNOOOOOO!!!”

Rolling out of the way, Amber dodges the elbow drop, leaving nothing but canvas to break Keaton’s fall.

VASSA: ”Amber dodged a bullet right there!”

Slowly, both begin to stir and climb to their feet. Making the first move, Keaton charges in with a European uppercut but misses as Amber leans back just enough to avoid contact. She then counters with an elbow shot to his mouth, knocking him back a step. Keaton quickly regains his footing and moves in on Amber only to get thrown off course with her footwork as she bounces in different directions. Faking one way, Amber causes Keaton to lunge in that direction, only to spin beside him and drive her elbow into the back of his head. Just as Keaton turns to face her, Amber hops up from the mat and kicks both feet into Keaton’s stomach before she drops to her back. The impact forces Keaton to buckle over as the air escapes his lungs. With Keaton out of breath and gasping for air, Amber quickly pops back up and applies a double underhook before dropping him face first into the mat with a kickout DDT!

JOHNSON: ”It’s the Original Sin!”

VASSA: ”That fancy footwork of hers seemed to have distracted him just enough to put him down for the kill.”

Rolling Keaton over to his back, Amber makes the cover while hooking his leg.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

JOHNSON: ”That’s it folks! Amber adds to the impressive win streak!”

“Shatter Me” hits the speakers as Amber rises to her feet. Stepping in beside her, the official raises her arm as the bell finally sounds.

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

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

We cut back to the backstage area, where we see Bryan Williams once again. Bryan doesn’t look as worried, as he’s standing by with Gabriel Hartman! Bryan gives Hartman a smile, patting him on the shoulder as we’re about to start another interview. Hartman looks around nervously for a moment. His eyes dart around the room, Bryan also begins to look around confused.

WILLIAMS: ”Something the matter?”

Hartman doesn’t speak, he keeps looking around the room. Bryan looks confused, not being able to see whatever it is Hartman is looking for. Finally, in a hushed tone, Hartman speaks up.

HARTMAN: ”You haven’t seen her?”

WILLIAMS: ”Seen who?”

His attention snaps back towards Williams, a scowl forming across his face. His forehead burrows as he tries to read Williams, Bryan continues to stand there confused.

HARTMAN: ”Don’t act dumb! Persephone said she hates homeless people. I fear for my life now.”

Bryan sighs, giving Gabe another pat on the shoulder.

WILLIAMS: ”I’m sure she’s busy, look man are we going to do this interview? You can’t spend your whole time here in fear. You’re going to start loathing this job, and I don’t think you can afford to do that. You don’t even have a home as it is…”

His attention back on Bryan, Gabriel nods as he straightens himself out.

HARTMAN: ”You’re right …Ladies and Gentlemen, I have with me the former 4CW Pride champion – Bryan Williams. Bryan, thanks for taking this time out of your busy schedule tonight.”

WILLIAMS: ”Well, it isn’t exactly busy …but you are welcome!”

Gabe nods.

HARTMAN: ”Bryan, let’s get down to brass tacks. You have a chance to win back the Pride title that you lost at All or Nothing. The last few weeks we’ve seen an unsteady climate brewing between you and Matthias. Are you worried that it might escalate to the point where you won’t be able to compete?”

WILLIAMS: ”What do you mean?”

HARTMAN: ”The fighting, man! It’s getting out of hand! I feel like you two are close to taking each other out before we can even get to Miami!”

Realizing what Gabriel meant, Bryan begins to chuckle.

WILLIAMS: ”Gabe, look, I’ve been in this business for a long time now. Tensions run high in situations like this. Matthias knows I’m coming for that title, he knows I’m going to get it back. He’s going to do anything, and everything, he can to keep it. It’s part of the job, something I have been used to for a long time now.”

Hartman begins to sniff around for a moment.

HARTMAN: ”I don’t smell bong water, you seem to be fine after the last show.”

Bryan nods.

WILLIAMS: ”Indeed. A little sneak attack like that won’t put me down. I’ll be good heading into South Beach Brawl, and I fully intend to make Matthias pay for what he did to Lauryn.”

HARTMAN: ”Retribution.”

WILLIAMS: ”Revenge. I need to make this good. Having my title stolen. Having my friends attacked. It all culminates at South Beach Br-”

Bryan is quickly cut off, a shriek coming from Gabriel Hartman. He scurries behind Bryan, pointing in a direction that is off camera.

HARTMAN: ”Sweet Jesus! It’s Pearl Harbor all over again!”

The camera turns, zooming out to see what Gabriel is pointing at. Bryan already sees, his face telling us everything we need to know. The crowd boos as they see Matthias Barrows and Gary the Assassin approaching. Matthias is carrying his trusty lead pipe. Gary cackles, as Bryan looks to be out numbered. Suddenly, Gabriel Hartman seems to get an injection of courage as he steps in front of Bryan!

The two look at the reporter awkwardly, as Gabriel stands there defiant in front of them.

HARTMAN: ”No more! I will not let you harm this man. Bryan! I have your back!”

Before anybody can react, a familiar voice can be heard behind them.

FERNANDEZ: “Hey, yo – chico…”

Matthias and Gary silently curse themselves, as Mariano Fernandez appears from off camera to join Bryan and Gabe. Bryan smirks, as Manny looks at the situation at hand. Gabriel takes a step back, quickly realizing the situation he has put himself in.

WILLIAMS: ”Hey bud.”

FERNANDEZ: “These two giving you grief?”

Bryan shakes his head, as Matthias and Gary appear to start backing up. Matthias, annoyed, mouths that he will see Bryan later.

WILLIAMS: ”Nope, looks like they were just on their way out…”

Mariano scoffs, the two Generation Now members watching the sneak attack fall apart. Gabe wipes the sweat off of his brow, as we cut away.

Meanwhile, in the parking lot.

TANNER: ”Heeeerrre we go, eat all the hay. That’s a good buddy.”

Something inside the trailer: ”BaaaaaAAAAAaaaaaah!”

Your Hero and mine, Adrian Tanner Junior, is currently inside of a large trailer, one of those trailers they use to pull animals around in. Cecil Kennedy stands outside the trailer, keeping watch.

KENNEDY: ”Is it supposed to sound like a sheep?”

TANNER: ”Hell if I know. I’m just glad we were able to find someone to borrow it from last minute.”

Something inside the trailer: ”BaaaAAAAaaaaaaAAAAaaaah!”

Cecil winces, glancing back into the trailer.

KENNEDY: ”Seriously, are you not weirded out by that?”

TANNER: ”Are you kidding me? It creeps me the fuck out. But it’s not us I’m hoping it weirds out.”

KENNEDY: ”Fair point. How are we getting this thing into position without being seen?”

Adrian walks out of the trailer with a smirk, brushing hay and other stuff off of the gloves on his hands.

TANNER: ”Oh I have my ways. I have my waaaays.”

Adrian cackles maniacally. Cecil stares at him in confusion.

KENNEDY: ”Okay, now you’re the one weirding me out.”

TANNER: ”Relax man, I just meant I have Brandon watching one of the side doors near the entrance ramp.”

KENNEDY: ”Ahh, of course.”

Cecil is not any less weirded out. Adrian shrugs it off.

TANNER: ”Man I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”

KENNEDY: ”I will say, this is probably my favorite not-related-to-your-fuckass-tag-team-partner joke we’ve pulled in forever.”

TANNER: ”Right? It was too perfect to pass up.”

Something inside the trailer: ”BaaaAAAAaaaaaAAAAAAAh!!”

Both men wince, sharing a look.

KENNEDY: ”Jeeeeesus that thing’s like nails on a chalkboard.”

He shivers.

TANNER: ”Yeah we should probably start getting it into position.”

KENNEDY: ”Lets. The sooner we do the sooner we don’t have to listen to it anymore.”

The both head into the trailer, Cecil handing Adrian a leash as they do. Another loud ”BaaAAAAaaaaah!” is heard from inside the trailer, then the camera cuts elsewhere.

UNDERCARD
FATE DIVISION
CLIFF WHITE VS. JETT WILDER

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.

POWERS: ”And the opponent!”

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

POWERS: ”Coming to the ring from Los Angeles, California accompanied to the ring by Carmella Wilder and Luiz Cavalcante, weighing in at one hundred and forty five pounds and standing five feet, eight inches tall! He is the–heh, what? Folks, he is the 4CW Uno Champion. Give it up for 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: ”These two met briefly two weeks ago in the little rumble we had to determine who would challenge Tara Davidson at South Beach Brawl for the Fate Championship.”

VASSA: ”Cliff was eliminated early on while Jett made it to the very end before being eliminated and betrayed by Alexis Morrison.”

JOHNSON: ”Betrayed? That was far from the case. There weren’t any teams in this match. Jett was the final person to be eliminated. It was either him or her.”

VASSA: ”I don’t care what you say. Jett was cheated in yet another match here in 4CW by people who aren’t even in the match. Mariano was eliminated but no one was there to stop him from pulling Jett.”

JOHNSON: ”If you remember correctly, Alexis did actually save him from going right over the top and down to the floor. She could have let him go without all the theatrics.”

VASSA: ”But she didn’t! She got the kids hopes up and then broke his heart right there in front of us all.”

JOHNSON: ”Anyway… seeing as both of these gentlemen were eliminated in the rumble two weeks ago, they both have an opportunity to bounce back here tonight with a win.”

With both men in their corners, the official stands in the center of the ring and checks in with both momentarily. Both give him the nod and without any hesitation, the official throws his hand into the air and signals for the bell.

DING!!! DING!!!

Cliff immediately exits his corner and approaches the center of the ring while Jett stands back, taking his time and thinking things over in his head. Stepping away from his corner as well, Jett approaches Cliff until the two stand only a few feet apart. They begin to circle the center of the ring, keeping a close eye on the other while looking for the right opportunity to make their move. After a few moments pass, the two lock up. Cliff quickly overpowers Jett, walking him backwards across the ring until his back presses against the ropes. Letting up, Cliff holds both hands up and takes a step back away from Jett. In the blink of an eye, Cliff then lunges forward and connects with a forearm shot to Jett’s head.

Kicking Jett in the stomach, Cliff forces him to fold over and as he does, he locks onto Jett’s wrist and whips him to the far ropes. As Jett hits the ropes and comes back on the rebound, Cliff charges in and hits him with a running European uppercut, stopping Jett in his tracks and whipping his head back. Grabbing ahold of Jett, Cliff locks lock onto his head before spinning them both sideways and dropping Jett to the mat with a swinging neckbreaker. Cliff instantly rolls over and pushes himself up to one knee only to see Jett getting up rather quickly as well. Before Jett can rise, Cliff pops up and rushes in, hitting him with a lifting knee to the face and dropping him flat on his back.

Jett bounces up from the mat but before he can stand, Cliff closes in on him, kicking him while he’s down and keeping him down. After wearing Jett out quickly, Cliff pulls Jett up to his feet and then lifts him in the air before dropping him with an atomic drop. Jett’s body stiffens as he takes baby steps backwards. Running forward, Cliff then levels him with a clothesline, dropping Jett to his back while coming down on his knees as well before Jett. Laying across Jett, Cliff goes for the pin as the official slides in with the count.

ONE

.

.

VASSA: ”Jett gets a shoulder up!”

JOHNSON: ”Cliff isn’t wasting anytime showcasing his experience over Jett.”

Pushing himself up, Cliff grabs onto Jett’s arm and pulls him up as well. Catching Cliff off guard, Jett kicks him in the stomach and then locks onto his arm. He then goes to whip Cliff to the ropes but before he can release, Cliff reverses the throw and whips Jett to the ropes instead. Thinking quickly on his feet, Jett leaps forward into the air, planting both feet on the middle rope. He then springboards off and spins around to face Cliff as he closes the gap between them. Wrapping his arm around Cliff’s head, Jett spins him around as well, planting his head into the canvas with a tornado DDT. Cliff’s body rolls over as he lays across the canvas on his back. Rolling over and covering Cliff quickly, Jett hooks the leg as the official rushes in with the count.

ONE

.

.

TW–

Popping his shoulder up from the mat, Cliff breaks up the officials count, leaving Jett speechless. Jett leans up and back, on both knees looking over Cliff. Out of nowhere, Cliff reaches up, grabs onto Jett’s head and holds it in place as he rolls his body backwards, lifting his legs up from the mat and driving a knee into the side of Jett’s head. Falling to his side, Jett hits the mat as Cliff pops back to his feet. Picking Jett up from the mat, Cliff holds him horizontally before walking to the center of the ring and dropping him across his knee with a backbreaker. Not releasing Jett, Cliff stands back to both feet and then drops Jett across his knee with a second backbreaker. Still not letting Jett roll off his knee and fall to the mat, Cliff stands back up a second time with Jett in his arms. Lifting Jett’s lower body, Cliff throws him down to the mat with a body slam. He then turns to his right and takes off for the ropes. Coming back on the rebound, Cliff comes down across Jett’s throat with a leg drop, pinning his head to the mat as his feet launch straight up into the air. Cliff then makes the quick cover as the official races over for the count.

ONE

.

.

TW–

VASSA: ”Jett kicks out at the two count.”

JOHNSON: ”Jett seriously needs to get his head in the game. Cliff is taking him to school right now and Jett is flunking out.”

VASSA: ”What do you expect? There’s like thirty or so years of experience difference between the two.”

Pulling Jett to his feet, Cliff hits him in the chops with a European uppercut before grabbing onto his wrist and backing him up across the ring. As Jett’s back presses against the ropes, Cliff uses it to bounce him off before whipping him across the ring. Hitting the ropes and coming back of the rebound, Jett moves in closer and closer to Cliff as Cliff charges at him full speed. Kicking his foot up from the mat, Cliff tries to take Jett’s head off with a running big boot but misses as Jett drops to the mat and slides underneath.

popping up to his feet, Jett quickly brushes himself off as Cliff spins around and lunges in his direction with a overhead right. Ducking out of the way, Jett hits the ropes behind Cliff before bouncing off and taking the veteran down to the mat with a running bulldog. As Jett rises, so does Cliff. Jumping straight up, Jett hits Cliff with a dropkick. Remaining on his feet, Cliff doesn’t lose his footing as Jett quickly races back to his feet. Jumping up once again, Jett hits Cliff with a second dropkick, this time directly in the chest. Stumbling backwards, Cliff falls to the ropes as Jett pushes himself back up. Hitting the ropes and bouncing forward, Cliff falls into Jett’s arm before being lifted into the air, spun around and dropped across Jett’s knee with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker.

JOHNSON: ”Jett’s found some momentum here folks.”

VASSA: ”There’s no doubt that Jett was the speed advantage over Cliff and he proved it right there as he turned this thing around.”

JOHNSON: ”If the kid can just remain focused, he can quickly end this one.”

VASSA: ”He’s going to the corner and we all know what this means. SWAG SPLASH!!!”

JOHNSON: ”That’s if he doesn’t waste any time show boating for the fans.”

VASSA: ”He’s all about the fans! He tweets for the fans! Jett is the People’s Champion!”

JOHNSON: ”That would be Uno Champion, and that thing is a joke as well!”

Climbing to the top, Jett towers over the ring with Cliff down on his back not far and within distance. The fans call to Jett, expecting his reaction in return. Surprisingly, Jett doesn’t give in. He quickly turns around to face Cliff before preparing for his jump. After a patting his chest a couple of times, Jett then leaps forward from the corner and soars through the air. As he nears Cliff, he comes down on him with a Frog Splash.

VASSA: ”There it is folks!”

JOHNSON: ”There’s the Swag Splash and he didn’t waste any time taunting for once.”

VASSA: ”Well what do you know. The kid may actually be maturing.”

JOHNSON: ”It’s going to take a lot more than this to convince me.”

Hooking Cliff’s leg, Jett makes the cover as the official slides in beside them for the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

JOHNSON: ”There it is! The three count baby!”

“Blessings” hits the speakers as the fans erupt in celebration of Jett’s victory. As he slowly rises to his feet, the fans begin chanting throughout the entire arena.

“Wet for Jett! … Wet for Jett! … Wet for Jett! … Wet for Jett! … Wet for Jett!”

Stepping in beside Jett, the official raises his arm into the air as the bell signals soon after.

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

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

Jett pulls his arm away from the official and then rushes over to the corner, leaping up to the middle ropes and raising both arms high above his head in celebration. As he enjoys his victory, the chanting throughout the arena grows louder and louder.

“Wet for Jett! … Wet for Jett! … Wet for Jett! … Wet for Jett! … Wet for Jett!”

Filming in the parking lot, Jason Cashe and Persephone Marquis exit their vehicle. Marquis wastes no time in heading to the back seat to grab both her and Cashe’s gym bags. Seeing Cashe not rushing his movements, she throws his gym back at him.

MARQUIS: “Will you hurry the fuck up? We’re late because of you!”

Cashe looks at her, surprise and shocked. Even offended.

CASHE: “Because of me? How? You were the one who wanted to stop for food when we have catering at the event? Then we got lost and what happened? You wanted to get freaky in the back seat! Point the finger at yourself there, Boog.”

Cashe sees her coming with flying fists, and blocks most of them; some of them getting through and actually hurting him. He grabs Marquis’ wrists, ceasing her movements.

CASHE: “Stop! Chill, alright? We’re here, aren’t we?”

MARQUIS: “And we should’ve been here earlier! We missed most of the show, and that fucking bothers me. I have my match and I like to be here to-”

CASHE: “What? Hear people speaking self-absorbed nonsense? What the fuck did we miss, honestly? Williams running his yappa not once but twice about how it’s a New Generation and how he will get the Pride Title back? Amber Ryan proving that yet ANOTHER “Bored”Walk superstar has fallen off as they FINALLY get to the place that matters? Our time was better spent fogging up the windows.”

Marquis rolls her eyes, giving her bags to Cashe as well as they begin to make their way through the parking lot. Despite her being angry, she still attaches herself to the arm of Cashe, holding him back from making a steady trek as she continues to debate the importance of being at the event on time.

MARQUIS: “I’m not saying it’s anything important that was missed. I get it. Wallace sucks off the crowd, says a few useless things leading up to South Beach Brawl, some nobodies scramble in a ring, Jett beats some old shit, probably. I don’t know, I haven’t checked, but I would fucking hope so or else our match coming up is useless. His ass is going to get beat.”

CASHE: “Confident, huh?”

MARQUIS: “Of course, as I’m sure you are rather confident about your own match tonight. Still, the fact is, even though most of it is fucking stupid, I like to sit in my locker room and think shit out. Get ready, hype myself up for an hour or two and eat some bagels. The bagels are getting better.”

CASHE: “The bagels are shit, but yeah, sure. I’m confident about my match. I don’t need to get psyched out about it. And can we stop saying ‘psych’? I don’t want to get psyched up about anything. What is that? Crying about assholes? I’m good. As for you getting ready? You don’t need to. I think you got this in the bag, so don’t worry about it. Missing a few distracting matches and some people talking shit. Do you really need to see Williams being fucking miserable backstage in order to get into the mindset of your match?”

MARQUIS: “I guess not, no. Also, sitting through any of Genie’s bullshit is an immediate braincell killer. Smoking meth will give me better results and information than hearing her speak about herself or some weird ass teenager.”

CASHE: “Heard she’s not at the event today, so I guess that’s the only good thing you missed from the show so far. Her absence, which is a fucking blessing. Hate seeing her. Fugly as fuck with a strong ass jaw and Owen Wilson nose.”

MARQUIS: “You better stop talking about her before Wallace lashes out again like a defensive fucking spastic.”

Marquis laughs before looking around the parking lot, something catching her eyes. She stops walking as her eyebrows furrow in trying to understand the situation.

MARQUIS: “Hey, who’s car is that? Isn’t that Wallace’s?”

Cashe looks at the car she points to, coming to a stop along with her before shrugging.

CASHE: “I don’t know, why? Why would you think that?”

MARQUIS: “Because Jews drive that kind of car, duh! Let’s go check it out really quick.”

Before he can stop her, she goes running off toward the vehicle. Looking inside, she nods and looks back at Cashe. There’s a mischievous smile on her face, the kind of twinkle in her eye that makes him walk to her, draws him to her before he can even stop it and keep her on track.

MARQUIS: “There’s a Cambodian skin magazine and some yellow face cream. What the fuck?”

Though, the car can honestly belong to anyone. She takes a step back, disgusted with the thought of it being Wallace’s car.

CASHE: “You know how petty it is to break into a car? I’d almost rather get caught shoplifting. Hey look! I have skittles! BEAST MODE!!”

Before he can attempt to take her attention elsewhere, she pulls at the door, trying to get it open. It doesn’t work and she gets frustrated. Cashe watches her, waiting for her attention span to shorten when considering the car, but she doesn’t let up. She tries all the doors. When that doesn’t work, she gets on the car, thankful the alarm doesn’t go off for some fucking reason as she stands to kick in the sun roof. Cashe speaks up.

CASHE: “What are you doing? Wanna take a shit in the driver seat? I could maybe produce a log right now..”

She opens her mouth to answer, but falls into the car through the sunroof. He checks on her through the window, but before he can ask if she were okay, she opens the car door and pulls him inside. He drops the bags on the outside and climbs in with her, even as she goes deeper into the back seat. She kisses him deeply, a smile on her face as she does so.

MARQUIS: “How about we fog up these backseats really quick, huh?”

CASHE: “Do you ever get tired?”

Rhetorical question, he doesn’t need to know the answer because he already does. He starts pulling at her shorts between kisses as the scene fades, a pan to see the yellow face cream right before we go to black.

Johnny Evil is sitting backstage in his locker room, preparing for his match later in the night. He looks at a card in which he’s got in his hand. Turning it into view of the camera, it’s revealed to be a Bronx 4CW Trading Card. The only difference is, the eyes have pen holes poked through them . With a smirk, Johnny looks into the camera.

EVIL: ”So, this is what it’s all about, huh Bronx?? This is what we fucking live for isn’t it?? This is every man’s dream in this sport. To be the man to challenge for the biggest prize the company you’re in has to offer??”

Johnny shrugs it off and shakes his head in humility.

EVIL: ”You look at this as a sign of glory… Fuck it, I look at this as a sign of possession. I mean, we couldn’t even catch the fucking main event!! I guess that’s what happens when you got Johnny Fucking Evil in the finals, huh?? You know, the scumbag that nobody wants to win. The asshole who has to continue to prove himself every fucking time he steps into a 4CW wrestling ring, even if he’s already proven more than they ever thought he could??”

Evil backhands the half empty water bottle that is placed next to him, causing it to fly into the air and hit the locker. The water left in the bottle scatters and empties everywhere even getting a couple drops on the camera lens for the splash back.

EVIL: ”I say fuck it… Win or lose I have already proven every one of those poor ass faggots in the audience and half of the fuck boys and girls in competition wrong!! I’m not saying I’m going to lose, because trust me, Bronx- I don’t have any fucking intention of walking away empty handed tonight!! Everybody seems to have a hatred for me, well you know what Bronx??”

Johnny stands up and gets closer to camera lens.

EVIL: ”THAT ONLY MAKES ME HAVE MORE FUCKING HATRED FOR YOU AND THIS FUCKING BUSINESS!!”

Johnny lets off a chuckle as he reaches into his jeans pocket, pulling out a zippo.

EVIL: ”See, people like me make enemies, Bronx!! I have a lot of fucking haters and do you know why?? It’s because I see the truth in shit and I don’t sugar-coat a fucking thing for anybody! I’m as brutal as they come when you get me going and I refuse to lose even if I do get beat!!”

EVIL: ”It’s not gonna’ fucking happen though. Tonight I plan on turning all these peoples hopes and all your dreams into nothing more than a pile of fucking ashes!!”

Johnny Evil flips the Zippo open and strikes it causing the flame to rise. He takes the Bronx trading card and rests it over top the flame, causing it to start burning. Watching it burn for a moment, he looks back into the camera as he lets it drop to ground.

EVIL: ”See you soon, Prodigal Son!!

The camera zooms in on the card still burning on the ground once more, before fading back to the ring.

UNDERCARD
ADRIAN TANNER JR. 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, who is immediately greeted by a too small pony wearing a rainbow poncho with a saddle and a sign that reads “The Only Horse You’ll Be Getting on” suddenly standing in the middle of the stage. The pony has the face of an animal that’s sniffed a little too much of the glue it’s about to one day become. Scott stops momentarily to stare at the pony in confusion, before his face turns to one of annoyance. He glares at the pony for another long moment before angrily waving it off and continuing along his normal entrance.

JOHNSON: ”What the hell is this?”

VASSA: ”Isn’t it obvious? It’s the horse Scott Stevens is gonna get back on!”

JOHNSON: ”I don’t think that’s what he meant, Vinny.”

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. 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.

JOHNSON: ”An interesting matchup between these two men tonight, wouldn’t you say Vinny?”

VASSA: ”Well it’s a bit of an odd pairing if you ask me considering both tend to appeal to the fans a bit but given their recent losses in the South Beach Brawl Cup I guess you could understand the booking.”

JOHNSON: ”Despite Tanner’s lengthy list of championships it feels easy to regard him as sort of the young buck here, especially in this match against an old rugged veteran like Scott Stevens.”

VASSA: ”Adrian has been playing the mind games for nearly two weeks now and Scott Stevens is known for having a bit of a short fuse. We’ll see how it all plays out.”

The referee quickly checks both men for foreign objects and then ensures that both are ready for the match to begin before signalling to the timekeeper for the bell and the start of the match.

DING!!! DING!!!

Both men circle the ring slowly, both with left hands extended so that the tips of their fingers are just barely touching. Stevens swings with his right, trying to catch Tanner with a quick strike but he misses by a few inches, leaving Tanner to dance out of the way to safety with a smile on his face. In an effort to catch Stevens off guard, Tanner quickly shoots back in Stevens direction, trying to take him down with a single leg takedown but Stevens stuffs it and pushes the smaller man away, pulling his leg free while shooting a warning glare in his opponent’s direction.

Again the two return to circling the ring slowly before finally moving to tie up. Instead of locking into the tie up, however, Tanner hooks Stevens arm and whips him down to the mat with an arm drag, holding onto his arm and applying pressure to the right shoulder of Scott Stevens early on. Stevens wastes no time working his way back up to his feet, using his weight to push Tanner into the turnbuckle, eventually causing Tanner to lose his grip on the hold. Stevens, though, holds onto Tanners arm and irish whips him back across to the opposite ropes. As Tanner returns, Stevens telegraphs a back body drop to which Tanner counters with a quick boot to the sternum, standing Scott up straight before being taken back down to the mat with another arm drag from Tanner.

This time Stevens manages to scoot out of having another hold applied to his arm, charging back at Tanner who once more dodges the attack and slams Stevens back down with another arm drag takedown. Back to his feet yet again, although slowing down some, Stevens once more moves towards Tanner only to be taken down by a third consecutive arm drag. The effect is clear as, upon impact, the big Texan grabs at his shoulder for a brief moment before working his way back to a seated positions. As he does so, Adrian closes and snaps a quick kick to the right arm of his opponent, clearly focusing on the one limb.

JOHNSON: ”Solid strategy by Tanner early on.”

VASSA: ”Usually we think of Scott Stevens as being the one who has his opponents as well scouted as anyone in this business but tonight it certainly seems like Tanner has done his homework.”

JOHNSON: ”Still a while to go in the match before it’s all wrapped up but it’s becoming clear that Scott Stevens needs to begin implementing his own gameplan, and now.”

VASSA: ”We’ll see whether or not the Arizona Assassin is as lethal as he claims to be.”

Adrian hits the ropes as Stevens works back up to a vertical base and blasts Scott in the face with a rolling elbow, following that up with a sudden tilt-a-whirl into an arm-breaker. He runs over to the far ropes, climbing out onto the apron, waiting for Stevens to get back to his feet. Stevens does so, shaking out his arm. As he turns to find Tanner, Adrian hops off the ropes with a flying lariat, but Stevens counters with a lightning fast SUPERKICK that rocks Tanner’s jaw and he crumples to the mat as the crowd gasps in awe and cheers.

Not wasting any time, Stevens moves to pull Adrian back to his feet, backing him into the nearby corner where he proceeds to deliver consecutive chops as the fans count along with him up to five. He then transitions, lowering his shoulder and grasping the middle rope on either side of Tanners body where he then proceeds to use his shoulder as a battering ram over and over again into Tanners stomach. After five consecutive blows that way, Stevens then stands back up and steps up to the middle rope, delivering ten more consecutive strikes, this time to the forehead of Adrian Tanner Junior.

By the time he’s done with him, Steven steps down from the ropes and backs of allowing Tanner to stumble out of the corner slowly, in a daze. Stevens again sets himself upon his opponent, looking to take his head off with a clothesline from hell. Tanner somehow manages to avoid it, however, and instead ducks under and swoops around behind Stevens, shoving him chest first into the corner while shaking his head free of the stars and cobwebs that had found there way there from Stevens assault.

JOHNSON: ”Good instincts there by Tanner as Stevens has found a way back into this match by sticking to what he does best.”

VASSA: ”Power, power and more power. I wouldn’t have wanted to be on the receiving end of any of those blows.”

JOHNSON: ”Me either, Vinny. And you’ve got to think of Stevens connects on that clothesline that he might have found a way to put this match away right then and there.”

VASSA: ”But he didn’t, and Tanner has a twinkle in his eye. Look out!”

Adrian has Scott near one of the corners. Standing in front of him with Scott facing the corner, he hooks Scott’s arm behind his back and throws Scott backwards with an arm-trapped exploder suplex into the turnbuckles! He rolls Scott onto his side and places his arm up near his head so his head and arm are laying against the bottom turnbuckle then quickly backs up halfway across the ring. He makes the gun motion with his hand, then runs and nails a dropkick to Stevens head and arm/shoulder against the turnbuckle!

Yet even as he connects with the maneuver and scrambles back to his feet, his eyes widen in shock as Scott Stevens begins to push himself back up to his feet. Tanners attack has been focused and precise from the very get go and still Stevens continues to get back up to his feet, ready and waiting to both absorb and dish out more and more. Once he’s back up to a vertical base, Stevens snarls in the direction of his opponent and flexes his pectoral muscles, moving towards Tanner at a methodical pace.

Feeling desperation set in and a need to raise the stakes a bit higher, Adrian climbs to the top rope, and dives off onto Scott looking for a hurricanrana. But Stevens holds on to him, fighting through the pain in his arm to lift Adrian back up onto his shoulders and then tosses Adrian into the turnbuckles with a buckle bomb! Adrian pops out of the corner from the momentum and Stevens almost takes his head off with a mafia kick.

JOHNSON: ”Oh my god!”

VASSA: ”Tanner might be dead after that kick. It nearly took his head off, Steve. Did you see his head snap back?”

As Tanners body collapses to the mat, Stevens senses an opportunity for victory and drops down, hooking the leg and scowling at the referee as he slid in to count the pinfall attempt.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR–KICKOUT!!!

Tanner somehow manages to muscle his shoulder up at the last second, much to the disbelief of the HOW Hall of Famer. Frustrated, Stevens sits up on his knees and places his hands on his thighs, giving Tanner the opportunity to roll away over to the ring apron where he rests momentarily out of danger. Shaking his head, Stevens begins to push himself back up to his feet, unsure how the kick that he had just landed after the turnbuckle bomb hadn’t put the match away for good. Outside on the apron, Tanner stirs and begins to slowly pull himself back up with the assistance of the ropes. As he gets back to his feet he lets the top rope support his body weight, not noticing that Stevens was fully back to his feet as well.

Stevens rushes him for a spear but Adrian counters with a quick enziguri that knocks Stevens back. As Stevens stumbles around Adrian launches himself off the ropes looking for a springboard armbar but Scott dodges at the last second. Adrian manages to hit the mat and rolls to his feet near the other ropes, turning right into a Scott Stevens spear that sends both men through the ropes to the floor!

Stevens makes it to his feet first. He pulls Adrian up and slams him chest-first down onto the barricade driving the breath from his body. He pulls Adrian up again and whips him at the nearest ring post. Adrian hits it back-first and slumps against it trying to catch his breath.

Stevens cocks his fist in the air to the fans delight and charges at Adrian for a Superman Punch, but Adrian dives out of the way at the last second and Stevens’ fist goes directly into the pole! Stevens howls in pain as the crowd chants ‘Holy shit!’

Not wasting time Adrian, on the other side of the post, grabs Scott by the injured wrist and yanks him forward, slamming Stevens shoulder-first into the ring post! Adrian lets go of the wrist, climbs up onto the stairs and grabs Stevens by the head, jumping off with a tornado DDT!

JOHNSON: ”Jesus did you hear that thud?!”

VASSA: ”I think I’m going to be sick.”

Pulling Stevens back up by his pants, Tanner quickly rolls Stevens back into the ring and then hops up onto the ring apron, looking to the corner turnbuckle as the crowd pops, anticipating a high risk maneuver from the Arizona Assassin. With a smirk, Tanner extends his arm and points his finger gun in Stevens direction, firing it off with a “bang, you go dead now,” Tanner ascends to the top rope just as Stevens begins to stumble back to a standing position. On wobbly legs, Stevens tumbles towards the corner that Tanner was in, happening to put himself in perfect position for what Tanner was hoping for.

JOHNSON: ”Looks like we’ve got BAD NEWS incoming.”

VASSA: ”Have we ever seen Tanner execute this here in 4CW?”

With a leap, Tanner looks to execute the rolling top rope cutter but Stevens manages to counter it, tossing Tanner across the ring instead of letting him connect on the move. Showing off his agility, Tanner lands on his feet like a cat and immediately sprints back in the direction of Scott Stevens. In the blink of an eye, Stevens turns and extends his arms going for the TOXIC STING!

JOHNSON: ”TOXIC STI-”

VASSA: ”NO!”

Stevens goes for the Toxic Sting but Adrian, having scouted it and spent so much time working against it, throws his arm up into Stevens’ injured arm and blocks the move, shoving Stevens away. As he shoves Scott forward, he grabs hold of the injured arm and twists, turning Stevens in a circle before pulling him in and hitting the REVOLVER!!!

JOHNSON: ”BANG!”

VASSA: ”REVOLVER! TANNER HIT THE REVOLVER ON SCOTT STEVENS!!”

Dropping to his knees, Tanner hooks Stevens leg and pushes down on his upper torso as the referee slid in to count the fall.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

Tanner heaves a sigh of relief and rolls off of Stevens as soon as the referee’s hand hit the mat for the third time. “Tom Sawyer” hits over the sound system as Tanner remains in a seated position, sweating dripping from his brow as he glances over at the fallen body of his opponent. Without question, Scott Stevens was once again a game competitor for his opposition it just happened that he came up a bit short once more.

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

With the referee’s help, Adrian Tanner Junior gets back to his feet and has his hand raised in the air in victory, his free hand raised to the side of his head holding the place where Stevens had connected with a mafia kick a few minutes earlier.

POWERS: ”Here is your winner, ADRIAN TANNER JJUUNNIIOORR!!!”

JOHNSON: ”A disappointing in to a hard fought match for Scott Stevens. You know he has to be frustrated.”

VASSA: ”Perhaps, but that’s the business. One minute you’re a whisper away from the 4CW Championship and the next you’re on a losing streak. He’ll bounce back.”

JOHNSON: ”You can be sure of that. Lonesome loser or not, Scott Stevens has been one of the most consistent forces on this roster for some time now.”

VASSA: ”He has and this victory tonight for Tanner is not one that he will soon forget. He was given all that he could handle tonight.”

As the scene fades backstage we’re left with a shot of Tanner taking to the ropes to celebrate his win.

After a thriller of a contest with Scott Stevens and Adrian Tanner, our shot shifts backstage. With his back to the camera, sporting a pair of dark denim and a loose-fitting Otis Nixon jersey, Lil’ Boeing meanders around a catering table as he is engaged in conversation with the plump man in a checkerboard button-up and white apron serving pig parts and pig part accessories. Even in defeat, no one can be in a terrible mood when local BBQ juggernaut Daddy D’z has blessed the Phillips Arena with the best pulled pork in the Southeast. Momentarily forgetting about his diet, Boeing gawks at the heart-clogging specialty plate known as the “EMS” prior to turning and walking toward the camera.

Despite coming up short, his smile to the 4CW viewing audience reveals his willingness to take the loss in stride.

BOEING: “Ay, what it do Alana? Sorry I let y’all down mane. Threw err’thang I had but sometime the dice gon’ hit doubles and a one, knaw mean? Alright doe, ya boy Plane ‘bout to eat some Daddy D’z and put work on the next one, so I see y’all soon!”

Lil’ Boeing gives a nod to the camera and throws the downward deuce with his free hand. However, just as he is about to walk away, a familiar face of the evening casually enters stage right. His third on-camera appearance of the night, Bryan Williams offers Lil’ Boeing a friendly fist-bump to greet him.

WILLIAMS: “Hey man!”

However, Boeing had mistakenly extended out his hand for a shake, causing a RIB-TICKLING encounter that has never happened nor is not cliched at all. The two immediately switch hand positions as if they had missed the shoot count on a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, again screwing up the introduction…

BOEING: “Ah shit…”

…which ultimately results in Bryan shaking the closed fist of Dat Plane Doe. Williams shrugs as Boeing stifles a laugh.

WILLIAMS: “Great effort out there man. I think you did the hometown proud.”

BOEING: “I ‘preciate that, B. No lie tho, ain’t gon’ be easy here. Got my azz shook down by three otha folk done new too in this Fo Cee game, an’ I got dirt ta done did gettin’ ready to scrap with y’all done been here longer. But I guess I get grown soon enough.”

Bryan nods, yet the look in his eye revealed his true agenda for approaching the rookie as he responds.

WILLIAMS: “No man, you’re gonna be fine. But listen, not to be that guy who gives unsolicited advice…but uh…want some unsolicited advice?”

Boeing chuckles.

BOEING: “Consida tha knob turnt and tha do’ open to make it solicited, B. I’m ears and eyes.”

WILLIAMS: “Cool. Well, I mean, I’m not saying my path works for everyone, but I came up in wrestling with a partner — and I know it’s not something that’s all that ideal for feeding an ego, but have you ever considered maybe…”

Lil’ Boeing’s eyebrows begin to raise as he stops Bryan short.

BOEING: “You sayin’ you want to team up?”

Bryan shakes his head, simultaneously waving his hands at his waistline.

WILLIAMS: “Well, not me. The dance card is a little full there man, no offense. But, if you’re interested, I’ve got an idea for someone who might want to fill that role. And that’s not to discredit you, though, don’t get me wrong. It’s just, well…it’s hard even for someone with a personality like yours…dammit, sorry…”

Boeing laughs out loud, giving Bryan an easy, brother-like punch to the shoulder to loosen him up.

BOEING: “Mellow, dawg. I ain’t skrapped. We cool!”

WILLIAMS: “I know, I know. Just don’t want to come off like that. Anyway, it’s hard to stick out here and get name recognition when there’s about twenty more of us back here who are going to push to the front of the line and yell louder than a rookie like you to get what they want. Even if they don’t deserve it. So a kid like you might be able to get past that in the tag game. You’d just need the right partner.”

Lil’ Boeing mulls briefly at Williams’ words of advice.

BOEING: “I gotcha mane. But why me doe? Why you want me to run tha co’ner wid yo person?”

WILLIAMS: “To be honest, I had the idea before I even saw you wrestle tonight. Your interview this week, man. It was genuine. You see the news that someone named ‘Lil’ Boeing’ inks a contract and you expect the first on-screen appearance to look like a Spike Lee movie. But no: you talked straight. In a Waffle House no less. And the person I have in mind needs someone genuine watching their back. And vice versa.”

BOEING: “Well shit, B. You might’ve just hustled dis lil’ youngsta. Why da pronoun game, doe? Who we talkin’ ‘bout?”

Bryan gives a shoulder motion toward the camera as he looks toward Boeing.

WILLIAMS: “There’s another lesson you’ll learn in this business: you gotta build a little suspense. Let’s talk in private. I’ll give you my number and we can…”

Bryan stops in mid-sentence as another figure enters the scene behind Boeing from the left. A little roar of approval can be faintly heard amongst the crowd watching the backstage negotiations on the big screen as none other than Dave appears.

WILLIAMS: “…go over it. And for the record, he’s not who I’m suggesting to be your partner.”

Bryan points, prompting Boeing to turn around and immediately fall out in laughter at the sight of Dave, who is dressed in a tuxedo with gray slacks, red bow tie, and accompanied with a stove-top hat and walking cane. Dave also has appeared to have glued a thick white mustache on his face.

DAVE: “I’m ready to go pay the whores to dance now.”

“Rich Dave Pennybags” smiles with glee at Boeing, who begins to compose himself, remembering the half-kidding invite he’d sent the talented “IT Guy” a couple of weeks ago.

WILLIAMS: “Hey Dave. What’ll you take in trade for Marvin Gardens?”

DAVE: “Fuck you Bryan, unblock me on Twitter.”

WILLIAMS: “I unblocked you weeks ago, you fucking idiot.”

DAVE: “Fuck you. Suck my dick, Williams.”

BOEING: “Maaaaaaan what I done did? A’ight Dave. I ain’t know yo game was dat got damb strong doe, I wish I done brought tha threads to match up wid yo suave lookin’ like Andre from Outkast ass.”

DAVE: “I dressed like this so the bitches know I’ve got money. Sativa has been paying me top dollar, unlike a certain promotion from New Jersey.”

Boeing and Bryan both laugh, with Bryan putting some additional kindling on the fire.

WILLIAMS: “Alright Dave, we get it. I don’t think calling them ‘bitches’ is going to get you in their good graces.”

DAVE: “I’ll call them whatever I want when I’m making it rain five-hundred dollar bills on them. I got money to bloooow!”

Sure enough, Dave unfurls a wad of the gold-colored board game currency from his front pocket. What makes the gag more entertaining is that the wad is definitely big enough to have warranted him stealing it out of several Monopoly boxes instead of just one.

BOEING: “Dis gon’ be good. Bryan, you joinin’?”

Dave interjects before Bryan can answer.

DAVE: “He has a girlfriend and is a big pussy, so no. She also looks like a little gi-”

Bryan raises his right fist suddenly, causing Dave to cower for a moment. The flinch elicits a hearty laugh from Boeing, who seems to be enjoying the show.

WILLIAMS: “Going to stop you right there, before you say something really stupid. Let’s not forget last year, when you were pining over Ana.”

Bryan turns his attention back to Lil’ Boeing, his face returning to a pleasant smile.

WILLIAMS: “Let me get you my number though, Plane, before you go out to have the night of your life.”

BOEING: “Tight. I hit you up tomorrow den.”

And we cut!

We return from backstage to the live audience cheering with everything they have. A crane camera scopes out the upper levels of the Philips Arena in Atlanta before the view goes back to the ground. Fans in attendance hold their homemade sign at ringside continuing to scream in enjoyment. Suddenly, our big screen goes pitch black before there’s the sound of a steady beat followed by an electric guitar that oozes out of the sound system in the Philips Arena. Moments later, the “Anti-Starlet” logo appears and a loud pop comes over the entire arena as the logo transitions to Alexis Morrison’s entrance video after a few seconds we’re viewing the entrance way, and out walks the Number One Contender to the 4CW Fate Championship, stopping once reaching the stage platform.

JOHNSON: “There is the woman that until two weeks ago many wouldn’t have pictured to be the one who would enter South Beach Brawl and face our 4CW Fate Champion, the Red Queen Tara Davidson. She didn’t only survive the battle royal, but Alexis managed to do it by crushing the dreams of Jett Wilder. Someone who came back just to face off for the Fate Championship.”

A snuffle is picked up on audio.

JOHNSON: “Are you seriously crying right now?”

VASSA: “W-What? No. I-I just have something in my eyes damn it. Leave me alone!”

Alexis starts walking down the ramp while audience members at ringside began reaching for her. She slaps a few hands. Alexis Morrison circles the ring and then climbs the steel stairs getting into the ring. Cameras switch to a couple of fans cheering from floor level. It takes a moment before we see Alexis heading over to grab a microphone from the announcer. She enters the circle of the canvas when the slowly there’s a chant of Anti-Starlet that gets louder and louder. After a few minutes, we can see Alexis smile in response. She gently brushes her blond hair off to the side while she presses the microphone closer to her lips as Alexis looks at the crowd on upper decks.

MORRISON: Thank you.”

They erupt before eventually dying down. Alexis Morrison looks down at the canvas, then directly centers her focus on the hard camera as words start to flow once more out of the blond woman in the middle of the ring.

MORRISON: “Ever since I debuted in 4 Corners Wrestling back in January. I was a nobody from a town east of New York in Washington County with no opportunity. No prior success story. Not even an identity. I was lost and broken when I signed those papers making me a member of 4CW and sold my soul to Las Vegas. It took months of countless opportunities to finally show what I could do. I’ll be the first to admit that after I beat Mary-Jane Braxton, I didn’t have the best track record in the world. I didn’t fulfill the hopes and dreams that many had toward someone like me who saw championship material. Many are sitting in these seats right now. I couldn’t beat Genevieve Carlson. A woman most was hyped to see me face after a short exchange of words on Twitter a few months back.”

She says, turning away from the hard camera within swoop. Alexis then would follow that up by casually pacing to either side of the 4CW Adrenaline ring. Her eyes would almost immediately dart down to the matted canvas, only to glance back up seconds later. Every movement surrounding her walk felt slow and steady as Alexis continued speaking.

MORRISON: “I couldn’t even stop Scott Stevens from reaching the next round of the South Beach Brawl Tournament and propel my career that could have led to an opportunity against Elijah Carlson. Our 4CW Champion. Two weeks ago, I decided to shed everything and bare the naked truth about how I felt going into this Battle Royal match to name a new number one contender for the Fate Championship.”

Alexis Morrison stopped.

MORRISON: “Some people out there would argue that what I did in the battle royal was cruel. That I led Jett on and gained his trust to only rip away his dreams right from under him. I admitted what my intentions were within the promo 4CW released. I did what I said I would do and hold up my end of the agreement and once Manny’s feet touched the floor. I ended our partnership. I couldn’t hold onto his hand because I knew from experience the second I did I would have been tossed over the rope. People like Jett weren’t going to keep me from failing at another opportunity thrown my way again, I wasn’t going to allow my goodwill to keep me from succeeding, and going to Miami.”

“Blood” by In This Moment begins to play as Tara Davidson steps out from behind the curtain with her Fate championship draped across her left shoulder as her eyes remain locked upon her future opponent standing inside of the ring. Tara’s lips curl upwards in a slight smirk as she makes her way down towards the ring ignoring the crowd completely as the jeer and catcall in her direction. She jumps up onto the apron with ease before she steps inside of the ring as the music fades out.

Alexis gives the 4CW Fate Champion some room and the microphone before bowing out to the nearest corner, where the challenger hops on the top turnbuckle. Alexis Morrison sits there crossing her legs watching Tara Davidson from the opposite side of the ring saying to Tara that the floor is hers ending with a smile.

DAVIDSON: “I never did get a chance to congratulate you in person, now did I? Trust me when I say that I am more than happy to not have to deal with Jett Wilder at South Beach Brawl. I thought for sure that I had you all figured out when I saw you getting all buddy-buddy with him on Twitter. I figured that this girl isn’t serious about her time here in 4CW if she’s going to make pacts with someone like Jett who is absolutely desperate to get even the slightest bit of my attention. I wrote you off Alexis. I didn’t take you seriously.”

Tara pauses for a moment as she walks around the ring slightly taking a moment to adjust her Fate championship belt up higher upon her shoulder. The expression on her face appears to be amused as she once again fixes her eyes upon Alexis.

TDAVIDSON: “I see now that I shouldn’t have made such a snap judgment when it comes to you. It’s clear that you knew exactly what you were doing when you made that little bond with Jett and I can almost respect you for that. Almost. That doesn’t mean I’m about to make things easy for you in our match. I don’t think you have any idea how important the Fate championship belt is to me and what I’m willing to do to keep it in my possession. It didn’t matter to me just who was going to be my opponent. The end result is going to be the same. It’s going to take everything you have to take this from me and from what I’ve seen so far, I just don’t think you have what it takes. Fooling Jett is one thing, anybody can do that, fooling me is a completely different game.”

Alexis jumps down and audience are loving it. Alexis Morrison walks up to Tara Davidson without fear on across either faces. The two women are suddenly inches away from each other inside the ring. No one moves. They both just stare into each other’s eyes. Cameras would soon start fading to backstage.

MARQUIS: ”What are you doing?”

Posted up with a folding chair sitting in the doorway of the locker room, Jason Cashe has a fishing pole in hand and the line is casted out, laying in the floor uselessly. Marquis, walking up, looks confused like he done lost his mind completely. No matter how long she’s been around him, he surprises her everyday.

CASHE: ”I’m fishing, can’t you tell?”

MARQUIS: ”No. There are no fish, not even water. So, you’re just sitting here looking dumb, huh? That’s what you’re doing?”

His head keeps looking down the hall as a faint sound of music is heard off in the distance. Turning back to Queef, he responds.

CASHE: ”This is how I figure it.. If I sit here with a line casted, SOMEONE has to walk by right? This IS the main hallway connected to the ring and when that RIGHT someone passes by? I catch me some interactions. See? Understand?”

Marquis remains standing there with a look of confusion on her face. More so than when she first walked up to see him “fishing” and she isn’t satisfied with his answer, but what does she expect? Clarity when it comes to Cashe? She needs to get better with her riddles.

MARQUIS: ”Okay, whatever. I have a match anyway, so don’t tell me. I don’t have time to play these games right now. Matter of fact, you can just go ahead and file this situation under things I don’t give a shit about.”

Shoving him by the head, she almost has to climb over him to enter the locker room. He was taking up the whole doorway with his chair, a cooler filled with drinks and a cigar that looked hand wrapped so you know it didn’t have tobacco in it. Again, the music catches his attention as he snaps another glare down the hallway. Only a few doors away was another locker room that had music blaring from within. He isn’t sure who it is, nor does he care, but he’s bothered by it.

CASHE: ”Just rude. I’m here enjoying the peace and someone is disturbing the fish..”

Getting up from his chair, Cashe tiptoes to not trip over the fishing line. As he approaches the room, the door is cracked open. Looking down he notices something wedged between the door and the frame to keep the door from closing shut. Reaching down, he pulls the object free. The music stops. Time itself almost came to a halt as he stands there just staring down at a plain and simple brick. Made of concrete, palmed in one hand he cradles it almost like you would a baby. Turning back to where he came from, the door he removed the brick from closed. So the music really is cut off in sound as he walks away.

MARQUIS: ”What is that?”

As he gets close enough, Queef sees what it is and questions him yet again.

MARQUIS: ”A brick? Why? Are you okay?”

She stares at Cashe, who hasn’t torn his eyes away from the brick, which he is holding like an infant. She sighs and shakes her head, not sure if she should even try and explore something that is apparently a newfound interest to him.

MARQUIS: You know what? Never mind. My match is coming up soon, so I’m just going to go. Don’t get into any trouble, Ween. Be good. Love you, okay? #PhoneHome”

She leans up with a little jump to give Cashe a quick kiss on the temple before walking off, a little worried for her man. He still doesn’t look at her, even as she’s walking away.

CASHE: ”Love you too.”

He never took his eyes off the brick in his arms. It’s like it’s made of pure gold. Like it’s the rabbit’s foot of bricks. He stares at it like it was the key to life and all else around him became a background noise. Something easily ignored and he did as a few people walked passed him and the fishing line caster to catch some “interactions” as he called it.

CASHE: ”Ohhhh yeeeesss! You shall play the leading role in what is to come! The stage is set and you’ll find a spotlight brighter than most. No fake pregnancies, no miscarriages, no post match speeches. You will just SHINE! We will shine together..”

He enters his locker room, kick pushing the chair into the hallway along with the fishing pole. Shutting the door, the cameras just sit filming the hallway.

UNDERCARD
PERSEPHONE MARQUIS VS. ELIJAH CARLSON

JOHNSON: ”You want to talk about big matches? We got a HUGE match here for you tonight! It’s not even the main event!”

VASSA: ”Right you are, which I’m sure is going to give these two even more motivation here tonight. I can’t think that Persephone is happy about facing the champion and it being on the undercard.”

JOHNSON: ”Neither would Eli be happy about being out of the main event, but here we are. Two great performers ready to steal Adrenaline! It’s already been a packed card, and it’s about to get even more cramped right now.”

VASSA: ”Eli Carlson has been on a tear since moving to 4CW from Uprising last year, quickly going from Primetime champ to 4CW champ!”

JOHNSON: ”Same could be said about Persephone Marquis, another successful addition from Uprising. Persephone is a multiple time Fate champion, but a win against Eli here could easily put her in top title contention.”

VASSA: ”It’s a great chance, and opportunity for her tonight.”

JOHNSON: ”Also a fantastic test for our champion, who will be waiting to see who comes out of that tournament as the number one contender.”

VASSA: ”Buckle in folks, it’s time to get turnt!”

“Loyal” begins to play, Persephone makes her way onto the stage; a large and almost condescending smile on her face as she heads down the ramp.

POWERS: ”Coming to the ring from Upper Eastside Manhattan, weighing in at one hundred twenty-one pounds and the same height as every other bitch in this place, which is five feet and seven inches tall. She is the former Fate Champion, ‘The Queefster’, ‘Marky Mark’, ‘The Ass Eater Extraordinaire’, ‘Mr. Brightside’ herself – PERSEPHONE MMAARRQQUUIISS!!!”

She had been waiting for Powers to finish announcing her, hands on her hips as she stares at him incredulously while still standing on the ramp. She shakes her head and sighs, continuing down the ramp. Some men in the audience extend money toward her in an attempt to get her attention, while others even go as far as yelling their impressive occupations and positions to her. At some points, she pretends to be interested before continuing on; snatching some man’s waving money and not giving him the time of the day.

Folding the cash and stuffing it into her wrestling top-

“These hoes ain’t loyal!”

-she enters the ring and regards the referee with a smile and a friendly greeting, before turning to her corner with an eye roll and an almost disgusted expression. She waits in her corner for the match to start, sitting on the turnbuckle with her legs crossed; back to her patronizing smirk.

JOHNSON: ”She’s got the confidence, and the skill, can she put it all together tonight?”

VASSA: ”A win here would be big for her. I’m just wondering if she can do it.”

JOHNSON: ”Persephone looks like she’s ready for the test, I think she might have what it takes tonight.”

VASSA: ”Well, no better test than the 4CW champion!”

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, a mixture of boo’s and cheers reigning down upon him. 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”

POWERS: ”Making his way to the ring standing six feet one inch tall and weighing in at two hundred and ten pounds… he is the 4CW CHAMPION… ELIJAH CCAARRLLSSOONN!!!”

At the bottom of the ramp he looks to his left and spots a young kid reaching out to try and slap hands with him. After a moment of hesitation, Eli shrugged his shoulders and reached out to receive “five” from the kid before turning his attention back to the ring. With ease he ascended the steel ring steps, 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 boo’s and cheers once more erupt around the arena. Unphased by it, Eli points at the title and then at his chest before hopping down back to the mat.

JOHNSON: ”The crowd was a bit receptive towards Eli last week, let’s see how they react later tonight.”

VASSA: ”Enough talk, let’s get this shit going!”

DING!!! DING!!!

Persephone Marquis and Eli Carlson stand in the middle of the ring, circling each other as the bell rings. Eli motions a championship across his waist, signifying who he is. Marquis looks unimpressed, she looks for a collar and elbow tie up. Eli has other plans, shoving Persephone into the nearby corner. He quickly backs up, telling Marquis to try again. Persephone does, and Carlson once against side steps her and shoves her away. Marquis falls to the mat, she looks over at her opponent and smirks. Eli motions for one more try, and Persephone stands up. She quickly charges at Eli, who goes for a clothesline. Persephone ducks under, stopping herself as she spins him around. With Eli facing her now she quickly drives her heel into his foot!

Carlson grabs his foot, hopping on one leg, allowing Persephone to grab him into a side headlock. She torques on the hold, Carlson quickly pushing her towards the ropes. Persephone bounces back, taking Carlson down with a dropkick! Carlson doesn’t fall, he instead crumbles towards the ropes, allowing Marquis the chance to charge towards him. Persephone and Carlson tumble over the top rope, as Persephone collides into him with a Clothesline!

JOHNSON: ”Persephone firing out of the gate tonight!”

VASSA: ”She’s going to have to come at Eli hard if she wants to win this match. Marquis knows what she’s doing in there, and she’s pulling it off perfectly right now.”

Carlson tumbles to the floor, Persephone is able to move onto the ring apron as she watches Eli tumble and fall awkwardly into the guardrail. She collects herself, waiting for Eli to get back up to his feet. He does, and Persephone acts. She leaps off of the apron towards him, catching him with a Diving Hurricanrana!

The hurricanrana connects, and the Atlanta crowd goes nuts for the surprising display of athleticism from Persephone Marquis here so early in this match. Eli pops back up, in a daze, as Persephone pushes him back into the ring. She quickly slides in, covering him for the first pinfall attempt of the night.

ONE

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Carlson continues to shake his head, looking like he might have taken a knock earlier in the match. Persephone rolls Carlson to a sitting position, applying a rear chinlock. She drives her knee into the middle of Carlson’s back, pulling back as hard as she possibly can. Carlson looks completely surprised, already feeling a tremendous amount of pain. Carlson grabs Persephone’s head, flipping her over him onto her back. Carlson goes to grab Persephone, but a kick to his face sends him staggering backwards. Persephone quickly gets up, a leaping Roundhouse Kick to Carlson’s head stumbles him even more.

JOHNSON: ”Kick lands flush!”

VASSA: ”It’s another opportunity for Persephone.”

JOHNSON: ”She’s been able to capitalize on those so far, Eli has been dead in the water so far.”

Eli Carlson staggers backwards, falling into the corner. Persephone charges Carlson, a running dropkick continues to put Eli Carlson on the ropes! Persephone grabs Carlson, she climbs up onto the second rope and gets her right fist ready. The Atlanta crowd understands what is coming next, Marquis standing tall in the corner. She raises her fist high, the crowd quickly chanting along with each blow she lands.

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

Persephone goes for one final blow, but Carlson suddenly snaps back to life. He grabs Persephone, slamming her to the mat with a devastating Powerbomb!

JOHNSON: ”All it takes is one move!”

VASSA: ”Persephone wasted a bit too much time here, I expect to see Eli pouring it on from here on out.”

The powerbomb stuns his opponent, allowing Eli the opportunity to start his offense. He quickly picks Persephone up, a chop to her chest echoing throughout the Philips Arena. Persephone stumbles backwards, as Eli catches her with a Running Calf Kick! The move drops Marquis, but she pops back up. Another Calf Kick connects, leaving her stunned on the mat. With his opponent down Eli quickly rushes to the corner. He hops from one turnbuckle, onto the top, connecting with a Double Jump Moonsault! The crowd is impressed, as Eli quickly covers Persephone.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Marquis kicks out, but falls right into a Side Headlock from Eli. He keeps her tied to the mat, pressed down as he uses his body weight advantage. Marquis tries to get back up, but Eli is having none of it. He lets go, and blasts her in the back of the head with an Elbow Smash! The shot leaves her stunned for a moment, allowing Eli to pick his opponent up. With a front chancery in place Eli lifts Persephone up, and spikes her head first into the mat with an Implant DDT!

Persephone holds her neck, having landed very awkwardly in the ring. Carlson smiles, knowing that he’s got his opponent in a bad spot now. Persephone tries crawling around, to get back up to her feet to continue the fight. Eli follows her, waiting for the right moment to strike. Persephone finally does get back up to her feet, pulling herself up using the ring ropes. Carlson strikes, clotheslining Persephone over the top rope to the outside below!

JOHNSON: ”Brutal clothesline sends Persephone sprawling to the outside!”

VASSA: ”Eli is just punishing her now! He took his licks, he’s bringing it back to her tenfold.”

Eli doesn’t follow, as Persephone tries to get herself back up off of the mat. The champion waits, watching as Persephone struggles for a bit. Laroy doesn’t have time to start his count though, as Persephone finally gets to a knee!

Persephone finally does, quickly sliding back in underneath the bottom rope. Carlson is waiting for her, as he drops a big elbow across her back! He pops back up to his feet, kicking and stomping away at Persephone Marquis. He picks her up to her feet, shoving her around the ring. Persephone fights back, an eye rake out of nowhere! He reels back in pain, but Carlson quickly takes Persephone down with a clothesline! He doesn’t let Persephone stay down, picking her up and dropping her with a backbreaker in retaliation for the eye rake.

JOHNSON: ”After a great start, it seems that Persephone just can’t get anything going here.”

VASSA: ”It’s why Eli is the champ! He stayed calm in the beginning, and now this match is his for the taking!”

Eli picks Persephone back up to her feet, lifting her up into a vertical suplex position. With one arm, Eli Carlson straightens Persephone Marquis out, holding her high into the air! He continues to hold her up for a good while, before finally dropping Persephone Marquis to the mat! Showing off seems to divide the crowd, Persephone holds her back as Eli quickly goes for the cover.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

Persephone looks like she’s beginning to take a beating, as Carlson once again gets back up to his feet. He looks around, the Atlanta crowd unsure of what to make of this. Carlson picks Persephone up, lifting her up into a Tiger Driver position. With nowhere to go Eli lifts his opponent up, and drills her into the mat! The crowd winces at the ferocity of the move, as Eli takes his time covering Persephone for the pinfall.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

KICKOUT!!!

JOHNSON: ”Another kickout! Persephone needs to save her energy here.”

VASSA: ”Eli is just wearing here out. All of these pinfalls take energy to kick out of. Each one takes more and more, Eli is going to be finishing this soon.”

Carlson doesn’t look upset, but he does look a bit bored as he gets back to his feet. Again he lightly kicks at Persephone, pushing her head with his boot. Persephone continues to fight, trying to get back up to her feet. She grabs the second rope next to her, pulling herself back up, Carlson stands behind her watching. His hands on his hips, he watches as Persephone gets back up and faces him. Persephone gets into a fighting position! She puts her hands up, and Eli looks ready to comply.

Wasting no time, he rushes at Persephone and begins to club her down with big forearm shots to her back. Persephone covers up, she strikes out with slaps and closed fists! Carlson gets caught, and stumbles backwards! Carlson tries to clinch up with Marquis, but Persephone is able to push Carlson backwards and catches him with a high left head kick! The kick rocks Carlson, sending him falling to the mat!

JOHNSON: ”Eli just got caught!”

VASSA: ”This is her chance!”

For a moment he’s stunned, but he recovers and rolls out of the ring using whatever sense he has left. He falls to the floor, still out a bit from that kick. Carlson again shakes the cobwebs out, and gets back up to his feet before Laroy Jones begins to count. Suddenly, Persephone Marquis starts running towards the side Eli Carlson is at, and DIVES THROUGH THE ROPES! BUT Carlson CATCHES HER, SENDING HER CRASHING INTO THE GUARDRAIL WITH A FALLAWAY SLAM!!

JOHNSON: ”OH NO!”

VASSA: ”WHAT A CATCH BY THE CHAMP!”

Laroy Jones yells for both competitors to get back into the ring, Carlson grabs the middle rope and climbs back in as Marquis lays there. Carlson smirks, as Persephone doesn’t move, Laroy Jones quickly beginning his count.

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

Persephone starts to stir, to Carlson’s surprise, she grabs ahold of the guardrail trying to pull herself back up. Through sheer determination she continues to fight, trying to get up.

“Six! … Seven! … Eight!”

Persephone is finally up, she stumbles towards the ring, rolling back in before Laroy Jones can finish his count! Eli is soon in after her, and is able to knock her down to the mat. He stomps away at her stomach, Persephone rolling over to protect herself from the onslaught. Again he kicks and stomps at her, Carlson wastes no time in picking Persephone back up to her feet. Persephone stands there, still woozy from the damage, and Carlson takes her down with a Running Lariat!

With his opponent down, Eli doesn’t want to waste any time. The champ knows he needs to finish this off right now, or risk further damage. He picks Persephone up to her feet, looking to hit the Pele Kick! It connects flush, dropping Marquis once again. Eli looks towards the corner, he wastes no time in quickly scaling to the top. He soon reaches the top, placing himself into position for the Phoenix Splash! He leaps off the turnbuckle, BUT PERSEPHONE ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY!

JOHNSON: ”NOBODY HOME!”

Eli Carlson crashes hard, slamming into the mat at an awkward angle. He tries to pop back up, but the damage is already done! Persephone is waiting for him, as he staggers to his feet. Carlson turns around, Persephone Marquis sends him crashing to the mat with a spinning heel kick! With the champ down Persephone quickly steps over him, putting Eli into the Crossface!

Eli obviously looks to be in pain, but the damage to Persephone’s midsection doesn’t allow her to fully lock it in. She tries to wrench back, but is unable to do so. Eli grabs her arms, prying them free from his face! Both competitors get back up, Marquis grabbing her stomach. Eli connects with a Forearm Shot, but Persephone answers with a kick to his shin! Eli stumbles around, allowing Persephone to drop him with a Swinging Neckbreaker!

JOHNSON: ”Persephone is trying to put the champ away, but I think she’s taken too much damage!”

VASSA: ”Don’t tell that to her, look at her go!”

Persephone pops back up to her feet, she wants to end this match right now. Persephone rushes over to the outside, standing on the ring apron. Persephone, using the top rope, pulls herself up onto the top rope. Eli doesn’t stay down for long, as the 4CW champ pops back up to his feet. He quickly scales the turnbuckle, a right hand stunning Persephone for the moment. Eli quickly locks her up, looking for a Superplex! Marquis grabs the turnbuckle, keeping her from being taken down. Eli attempts again, but Persephone wiggles out of his hold. A chop slams into his chest, followed by another. He doesn’t fall, so Persephone lets him have it again! He starts to teter, and Persephone clobbers him with a headbutt!

Eli falls back towards the mat, landing hard as he does. For a moment both competitors don’t seem to move an inch, until Marquis starts to stir. Persephone roars, the Atlanta crowd easily getting into this match. Persephone waits on the top turnbuckle for Eli to get back up to his feet. Carlson slowly does, stumbling around as he turns around right into a Diving Hurricanrana!

NO! Carlson HOLDS ONTO Marquis, AND DRIVES HER INTO THE MAT WITH A SITOUT POWERBOMB!

JOHNSON: ”HUGE POWERBOMB!”

VASSA: ”She looks out of it.”

JOHNSON: ”This could be it folks! Persephone tried to topple the champ, but he’s looking to end it now.”

VASSA: ”Don’t give up on her just yet!”

The momentum of the hurricanrana was used to Carlson’s advantage, as he drove Persephone deep into the mat with that Powerbomb. Carlson stands back up, a look of anger and frustration on his face. He grabs Persephone by the hair, looking to finish her off with a Red Light Special!

Staggered, Persephone stands there as Eli quickly sprints towards the ropes. He rebounds with such ferocity that he can’t tell that Marquis has recovered! He leaps towards her, but there is nobody there! Marquis ducks out of the way, sending Eli crashing to the canvas!

JOHNSON: ”She moved!”

Persephone waits, leaping towards the nearby ropes as Eli tries to get up. She goes for the Petty Cash, but Eli catches her! He tosses her back to her feet, grabbing her for a Brainbuster! He lifts Marquis up, but she floats over and lands behind him! Suddenly, Carlson is rolled up by Persephone Marquis with a School Boy pin!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR–KICKOUT!!!

Eli kicks out at the last moment, the crowd assured that they had just seen a huge win here tonight. Persephone doesn’t freak out though, she keeps her cool as she takes a moment to breathe. With Eli still recovering there is no need to rush towards another attack. Persephone gets to a knee, grimacing as she does. The 4CW champion finally stirs, his eyes locked with Persephone’s. The champ rises to his feet, and attacks with an Elbow Strike! Persephone eats the shot, slumping backwards as she does. Eli reaches out, catching her before she can fall to the mat! In one swift motion he lifts her up, going for a Brainbuster!

Persephone brings her knee down, catching the champion in the head! Eli lets go, causing Persephone to fall back down to the mat. He attempts to strike out again, but Marquis dodges and catches him with a Step Up Enziguri! Eli falls seat first to the mat, as Persephone catches him with ANOTHER SPRING DEITY!

JOHNSON: ”THIS IS IT!”

VASSA: ”NO WAIT – LOOK!”

The Shining Wizard seems to have flattened Eli, but he rolls backwards at the last moment! Persephone turns around, just in time to see Eli running her way with a RED LIGHT SPECIAL!

SSMMAACCKK!!!

The kick turns Persephone inside out, as she flips and lands on the mat. With the momentum of getting hit Persephone slumps to her side, and falls out of the ring! Eli looks stunned, knowing that precious time will be wasted getting her back into the ring! He gets himself back up, climbing through the ropes to the outside. Quickly, he picks Persephone back up and pushes her back into the ring. The crowd is buzzing, as Persephone is still not moving! Eli scrambles towards his opponent, going for the cover!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THRE–

VASSA: ”Her foot is on the bottom rope!”

Eli speaks for a moment with Laroy Jones, the crowd completely believing that this match was done! Persephone doesn’t move at all, as Eli learns that his opponent was able to break the count at the last possible moment. He curses, taking a moment to catch a breath. He looks over at Marquis, who is stirring to her feet. Eli readies himself, looking to end this match now! He sprints towards the ropes, but so does Persephone! She pops back up to her feet, criss-crossing Eli as he runs the other way. Eli stops, confused, and turns around to eat a RUNNING KNEE STRIKE from Persephone!

Persephone, focused on continuing her attack, tries to get Eli back to his feet. Almost like she’s willing him up with her mind, Eli slowly rises. She leaps out towards the ropes, catching herself on the second rope. She twists in the air, unsure of her opponents condition, and in a leap of faith CONNECTS WITH THE PETTY CASH! Eli is spiked head first into the mat, as Persephone quickly moves in for the cover!

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

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

POWERS: “The winner of this match, PERSEPHONEEE MARQUISSSS!!!

“Loyal” begins to play, as both Persephone and Eli lay in the ring. The crowd begins to cheer, applauding the both of them for their match. Laroy Jones goes to check both contestants, as Persephone begins to stir first. She gets up to her feet, yelling at the crowd as Laroy raises her arm in victory. Fired up, she rolls out of the ring to celebrate her win. Eli finally gets up, only being able to watch as Marquis heads towards the back.

JOHNSON: ”Persephone with an impressive win here tonight over the 4CW Champion, Elijah Carlson.”

VASSA: ”It was impressive, I’ll give it that. Too bad it doesn’t mean anything. We all know that champions perform at their highest when the gold is on the line.”

JOHNSON: ”Title match or not, these people are paid to compete and tonight, Persephone proved that she was the better wrestler.”

VASSA: ”I’m proud of her. Maybe if she’d get her head out her ass she would actually push herself and gun for a championship.”

JOHNSON: ”She’s said time and time again that she doesn’t need a championship to be great. She can devalue championships alone by beating the champions.”

VASSA: ”Call Dan Marino and ask him if he’s okay with not ever winning a championship. I’ll wait.”

Static…

As the white noise begins to fade to darkness, a mild chorus of humming could be heard. Sativa Navaeh is unconscious, splayed on two wooden plans in the form of an “X,” tied by her ankles and her wrists. Her mouth is gagged so that she can’t speak to the men in front of her. Viduus stands directly in front of Sativa whom is wearing her belt buckled to her waist. His head is cocked to the right like a puppy hearing a noise for the first time.

The Speaker emerges from behind Viduus with a small marble bowl in hand. There are hundreds of different sized candles that become clear in the picture as the Speaker continues to move towards Sativa whose eyes are now open. The Speaker walks towards Sativa, he touches her ankle and her waist before resting his hand on her cheek.

SPEAKER: “Blood Countess hmmm? What is that you know of blood child?”

Sativa struggles to try and get his hand off of her face but to no avail. The Speaker pulls out a knife holding it up for Sativa to see it before nodding in another direction. Suddenly a bucket of blood is spilled over Viduus and he jumps up on to Sativa straddling her, shaking his head back and forth while making some strange sounds like a feral animal being tortured.

The Speaker waves the knife down which must have signaled to Viduus that was enough. The blood that covered him was now splatter all over Sativa’s face and body. The Speaker moved forward to cut Sativa’s shirt up the middle just to her bra.

SPEAKER: “Hush child, it is not your body we want here…no no…In order to free you from you worldly concerns that will not matter shortly, we must have your soul.”

The Speaker balances the knife in the middle of Sativa’s chest with the point sticking just at her neck. The white cloaked followers surround them in a circle now humming like Gregorian monks louder and louder. The Speaker moves a brush around in his bowl. The brush he removes from the bowl appears to be covered in blood as he lets it drip slightly back into the bowl before drawing a line from the bottom of Sativa’s bra down to the button of her pants. He makes a circle around her belly button and then draws an “x” through it.

SPEAKER: “You see Blood Countess, Sativa Nevaeh, your soul belongs to us now. At South Beach Brawl we will destroy your body. Your blood will flow through the gold and leather of our new title and by the end of this, you will beg to be returned to your normal self.”

The Speaker got real close to Sativa’s ear and whispers.

SPEAKER: “You will lose Sativa…you will lose…everything.”

Viduus and The Speaker turned to the camera before both smile and the familiar laugh fills the screen as we fade back to Adrenaline.

HEADLINE
SOUTH BEACH BRAWL CUP
ROUND THREE

JOHNNY EVIL VS. BRONX VALESCENCE

POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and will declare the winner of the South Beach Brawl Cup.”

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 with 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 raises his middle finger and extends it forward, waving it in front of the fans face before continuing 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, JOHNNY EEVVIILL!!!”

Johnny stands to his feet and paces around as the audience boos louder. Johnny pulls the 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.

JOHNSON: ”It’s been a tough journey for Johnny over the last few weeks. Ever since his retirement announcement, he’s really turned things around.”

VASSA: ”At All Or Nothing he was able to score the pin fall over Bronx to win the Tag Team Championships alongside Adrian Tanner Jr.”

JOHNSON: ”After two rounds, he’s made it here to the final round where the only thing after is a shot at the 4CW Championship.”

VASSA: ”He’s been relentless along the way. Some folks say that he’s been getting dirty wins but like he said earlier in the week, he’s just been taking opportunities and capitalizing on them.”

JOHNSON: ”He ended Dare Clemmens career. He hasn’t been heard of since. Two weeks ago he was almost down and out until Genie was distracted, giving him the chance to turn it around and score the win over her. He hasn’t had the cleanest record fighting through the tournament but he’s been scratching and clawing to get where he is right now.”

VASSA: ”He wants to set the world on fire and with a win here tonight, over Perry’s son, that’s taking out two birds with one stone getting closer to the 4CW Championship.”

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.

VASSA: ”Talk about an impressive journey… look no further than the man right there!”

JOHNSON: ”For the second year in a row, Bronx has made it to the finals of the South Beach Brawl Cup. Last year he suffered an injury and was unable to actually compete in it, but here he is this year with a clean bill of health.”

VASSA: ”I think a lot of people underestimate him when they climb in the ring with him. They expect to see the wild man that’s on social media all day but within those ropes, he’s a completely different animal.”

JOHNSON: ”These two already have a good bit of history. Evil scored the pin fall on Bronx to win the tag belts.”

VASSA: ”Bronx has already defeated the other half of the tag champs with Adrian Tanner Jr. He’s half way there on getting his revenge. All he has to do now is defeat the other half of the tag champs.”

JOHNSON: ”Both of these men have a lot to prove here tonight. There are no second chances in challenging for the 4CW Championship at South Beach Brawl. There’s only one opportunity and it’s right there in that ring tonight!”

Walking to the center of the ring, the official stands between both wrestlers. First turning to Evil, he waves for Evil to rise to his feet. Obliging, Evil stands and gives the official a slow nod, not taking his eyes away from Bronx for a single second. Across the ring, Bronx stares back with no emotion. He sways from side to side, before slowly raising his arm up and extending his hand forward. Pointing the finger gun at Evil, Bronx locks him in his sights as the official calls to grab his attention. Looking to the ref, Bronx fires a shot at evil before giving the ref a wink of the eye. With both men ready to fight for the 4CW Championship opportunity, the official throws his hand into the air and signals for the bell, officially getting this match underway.

DING!!! DING!!!

Before the bell can even silence, both men shoot out from their corners in a straight line until standing just a few feet across from each other in the center of the ring. Locking up, Evil quickly takes lead as he knees Bronx in the groin, using his body to block the view from the official. Bronx lets up a bit with his hold, giving Evil the opportunity to pull him down in a side headlock. Twisting his body, he lifts Bronx off his feet, flipping him over and down to his back across the canvas.

Pushing himself up to one knee, Evil smashes his forearm into Bronx’s face before standing tall. Kicking Bronx in the ribs over and over, Evil refuses to let him get back to his feet on his own. He then takes a few steps back before coming forward and driving his foot into Bronx’s ribs a final time with a running kick. He then pulls Bronx up to his feet and locks onto him, driving him backwards until slamming his back against the corner. Grabbing onto the top rope with both hands, Evil uses it for leverage as he begins stomping on Bronx’s midsection over and over until eventually breaking him down into a seated position.

Backing up to the center of the ring, Evil lines up Bronx in his sights before running forward. Closing in, Evil lifts his foot up from the mat, driving his knee into Bronx’s face. Evil then pulls Bronx up to his feet before wrapping him up and placing him in a seated position on top of the corner. Climbing up to the middle ropes, Evil then begins raining down on Bronx with right hands, the crowd counting along as each punch connects.

“One! … Two! … Three! … Four! … Five! … Six! … Se–“

Throwing his arm up, Bronx blocks the seventh punch and counters with a solid punch to Evil’s stomach. Evil loses his balance, leaving his midsection exposed as Bronx draws back and delivers a stiff palm strike to his gut, knocking him down from the corner and down to his feet on the mat. Just as Evil settles his feet, Bronx leaps forward, flipping through the air. As his body flips over Evil’s head, Bronx grabs onto it with both hands, pulling him down to the mat with blockbuster. Rolling over to his stomach, Bronx crawls over Evil and makes the cover.

ONE

.

.

TW–

VASSA: ”Bronx went for the quick pin there but Evil was able to get a shoulder up before the two count.”

JOHNSON: ”Evil went to town on him from the start but Bronx was able to counter his attack, giving him a small window of opportunity to strike and he did.”

VASSA: ”That’s all he needed to turn things around.”

Not wasting any time, Bronx quickly rises to his feet and rolls Evil over to his stomach. He steps over Evil and squats down, wrapping both arms around his waist. Using all of his strength, Bronx deadlifts Evil off the mat, flipping him over and slamming him to the canvas with a gut wrench suplex. Back on his feet, he stomps on Evil’s shoulder a couple of times before turning to the ropes. Coming back on the rebound, Bronx hits him with a rolling knee, rolling up to his feet in a fluid motion. With his back turned to Evil, Bronx then does a backflip, landing across Evil’s body with a standing moonsault.

Slapping the mat with his palm, Bronx howls before pushing himself back to his feet. He then lifts his foot up from the mat and slams it down onto Evil’s stomach, forcing Evil to sit up from the impact as the breath is knocked from his lungs. Bronx then turns to the ropes behind Evil and takes off for them at full speed. Coming back on the rebound, jumps through the air and kicks his foot down onto the small of Evil’s back with a stomp. Evil winces in pain as Bronx pops back to his feet and then hits him in the small of his back again, this time with a dropkick. With Evil still sitting in an upright position, Bronx slowly rises to his feet again. He then races past Evil and hits the ropes in front of him. As he comes back on the return, Bronx lays Evil out with a running knee to the face.

Dropping to his knees, Bronx then covers Evil for the pin as the official races over with the count.

ONE

.

.

TW–

JOHNSON: ”Evil kicks out for a second time right before the two count!”

VASSA: ”Bronx is doing a fantastic job keeping Evil down and off his feet.”

JOHNSON: ”Evil can change things around in the blink of an eye and him down on the mat is where anyone should want him when he’s on this hot streak he’s been on as of late.”

Pushing himself up, Bronx paces the ring for a short moment collecting himself. He then turns back to Evil and rushes in to deliver a few stomps to his stomach. Reaching down to grab onto him, Evil pops up and pulls Bronx closer. Blocking the officials view with Bronx’s body, Evil drives his thumb into Bronx eye before pushing his head back and sending him back stepping across the ring. With Bronx temporarily blinded, Evil quickly climbs to his feet and then charges towards Bronx full speed. Hitting Bronx with a shoulder block, Evil sends him stumbling backwards and crashing into the corner.

Moving in before Bronx can regain his vision, Evil hits him with a running knee to the stomach. He then grabs onto the top rope with both hands and lifts his foot up, pressing it against Bronx’s throat. Using the ropes for leverage, Evil begins choking Bronx with his foot as the official races in and yells for him to release the illegal hold. Ignoring the official, Evil continues choking Bronx, leaving the official no choice but to begin the five count.

“One! … Two! … Three! … Four! … Fi–“

Just before the official can complete the five count, Evil pulls his boot away from Bronx’s throat and takes a few steps back. Holding his hands up, Evil acts innocent as the official scolds him for the illegal move, giving him a warning. Evil then shoves the official out of the way and charges in once more, this time nearly taking Bronx’s head off with a running clothesline. Pulling Bronx away from the corner, Evil drags him to the center of the ring before pulling his head between his legs and wrapping both arms around his waist. Lifting Bronx off his feet, Evil then drops him with a sit-out powerbomb and pin variation.

ONE

.

.

TW–

VASSA: ”TW–“

JOHNSON: ”KICKOUT!!!”

VASSA: ”I told you! Evil will go to any measures to get the upperhand and a thumb in the eye changed things around dramatically.”

JOHNSON: ”He has turned things around to his favor, nearly putting Bronx away with the three count right there.”

Evil cuts his eyes to the official before pushing himself up and backing him into the nearest corner to complain about the count. Placing his hand on the officials shoulders, Evil argues the count until the official swats his hand away from his shoulder. Evil then rages and grabs onto the official. Before things progress any further, Evil quickly calms down and releases the official before dusting his uniform with his hand and acting as if nothing happened. He then turns to Bronx who is still down on the mat.

After making his way over to Bronx, Evil pulls him up from the mat and backs him up to the ropes while keeping a firm grip on Bronx’s wrist. Pressing Bronx against the ropes, Evil uses it to spring him off as he whips Bronx across the ring to the opposite ropes. As Bronx comes back on the rebound, Evil runs at him head on, meeting him in the ring with a running knee to the stomach, flipping Bronx over and down to his back. Bronx rolls up to a seated position and before he knows it, Evil surprises him from behind with a superkick to the back of the head.

Lifting Bronx up from the mat, Evil then picks him up and drops him across his knee with a backbreaker. Instead of allowing Bronx to fall to the mat, Evil keeps him across his knee, pressing down on his chin from above and holding his legs in place with his other arm, trying to snap him in half. Evil then raises his arm as high as he can before driving his elbow down and into Bronx’s stomach. He then rolls Bronx off his knee, dropping him face first to the mat. Standing tall, Evil then jumps straight into the air, coming down on Bronx’s back with a double foot stomp.

Dragging Bronx close to the corner, Evil then rolls him over to his back before stepping over him and climbing to the top. With his back turned to the ring, Evil looks over the crowd momentarily before jumping backwards into the air. Turning a backflip, Evil lands both feet down onto Bronx’s chest with a double foot stomp.

JOHNSON: ”Reverse Stuntman Flip!”

Dropping to his knees, Evil makes the cover as the official slides in beside them for the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THR–

VASSA: ”NNNNOOOOOOOO!!!”

JOHNSON: ”Bronx was able to kick out from the Reverse Stuntman Flip!”

VASSA: ”I don’t know how he did it but there are still some signs of like in the Starboy!”

JOHNSON: ”Evil is furious!”

Looking up to the ref with anger in his eyes, Evil slams his fist down onto the mat before using it to push himself to his feet. He begins yelling at the official at the top of his lungs. After a few moments pass, he then turns to Bronx and begins stomping wildly on him. Stomp after stomp, Evil slams his foot down onto Bronx midsection in a rage. He then grabs Bronx’s feet and drags him to the center of the ring. Reaching over Bronx’s legs as they curl and his knees come to his chest, Evil begins slapping Bronx in the face over and over in a fit of rage. He then grabs onto Bronx’s head with both hands but before he can make his next move, Bronx kicks his legs straight, sending Evil stumbling backwards.

Evil hits the ropes and comes back just as Bronx pops back to his feet. Lunging forward, Evil goes for a haymaker but misses as Bronx sidesteps the blow and takes him face first to the mat with a drop toe hold. Evil’s face bounces off the canvas and he instantly stands back to his feet, as does Bronx. Turning Evil around, Bronx knees him in the stomach before locking onto his wrist and whipping him to the ropes.

JOHNSON: ”There goes Joh–“

VASSA: ”UH-OH!!!”

In desperation, Evil reverses the throw and whips Bronx to the ropes instead. As Bronx comes back on the rebound, Evil goes for a clothesline but misses as Bronx ducks and continues on towards the ropes. Hitting the ropes a second time, Bronx comes back on the rebound and Evil jumps straight up, spreading his legs and allowing Bronx to pass underneath as he travels to the ropes again. Hitting the ropes and bouncing off, Bronx comes back and dodges yet another clothesline from Evil, ducking underneath and continuing in full stride. With Evil Showing signs of fatigue, Bronx hits the ropes a fourth time and just as Evil turns around to face him, Bronx leaps forward with a front flip, locking his arm around Evil’s head and planting his head directly into the canvas with a DDT!

JOHNSON: ”Valescence’s Victory!”

VASSA: ”After a quick game of cat and mouse Bronx outsmarted Evil right there and put him down before he even knew what hit him.”

Making the cover and hooking Evil’s leg, Bronx secures himself over Evil for the pin as the official races over with the count.

ONE

.

.

TWO

.

.

THREE!!!

JOHNSON: ”There you have it folks! Bronx wins the South Beach Brawl Cup!”

VASSA: ”We have a winner and new number one contender for the 4CW Championship.”

The “Stranger Things” intro begins to play throughout the arena as Bronx slowly rises to his feet, brushing the hair from out of his face. Stepping in beside him, the official raises his arm into the air as the bell finally sounds.

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

POWERS: ”Here is your winner and the Twenty-Seventeen South Beach Brawl Cup winner… BRONX VVAALLEESSCCEENNCCEE!!!”

The official then presents Bronx with the Cup as he hoists it above his head.

JOHNSON: ”I hope you’re watching Eli because that’s the man you’re going to be facing at South Beach Brawl.”

VASSA: ”Just imagine if Bronx hadn’t been injured last year. This could very well be his second time winning the cup.”

JOHNSON: ”It’s hard to say that. Jair Hopkins won last year and I don’t know who would win in a match between the two if I’m being honest.”

VASSA: ”We still have a main event in store tonight but from my understanding, there is to be a bit of a celebration following this match here tonight?”

“Stranger Things/Starboy” is still playing in the arena. Johnny Evil is pulling himself up from the corner as Bronx is posing in the middle of the ring with the cup. Unable to pull himself up, Bronx walks over and stands over Evil as the music fades. For a moment, it’s quiet in the arena and then Bronx drops to his knees and holds out a hand for Evil to shake in respect as the crowd begins to cheer.

JOHNSON: “What a show of sportsmanship here for Bronx. While he has been on a mission in 4CW since returning, he has shown no disrespect a long the way.”

VASSA: “You can argue if it’s the right way or the wrong way, but both of these two men belonged in this position. Only one could walk away.”

Evil looked around for a moment before Bronx extended his hand further and then finally Evil took it. Bronx pulled Evil in and said something to him that the cameras couldn’t pick up and then pulled Evil to his feet, both of the men stood in the middle of the ring as Bronx held up Evil’s hand and pointed to him. After posing for each side, Bronx turned his back on Evil and went to the turnbuckle and held up the South Beach Brawl Cup and posed.

Johnny Evil went to step out of the ring, but then looked at Bronx with his back turned. A flash in his eye, he rushed over and hit Bronx in the small of the back causing Bronx to double over, the cup falls onto the apron as Johnny Evil gets underneath Bronx and runs across the ring and DRIVES him into the mat with a running power bomb that flips Bronx all the way back over to his stomach as Evil pops up and stares down at the beaten Bronx.

EVIL: “You wanna’ be the fucking hero, Bronx?? You wanna take this from me??”

Evil hooks Bronx for his finisher, Fall From Shangri-La as he is trash talking him, Bronx is unable to fight back.

JOHNSON: “Oh, come on! What is this! Bronx just showed his man respect and now he’s taking advantage of him! Someone has to stop this!”

VASSA: “You never turn your back on a snake, Bronx played the good guy…But Evil is just playing the game!”

Before Evil can lift Bronx for the finisher the crowd suddenly pops as Eli Carlson hits the ramp. Evil drops Bronx to the side and motions for Eli to bring it on.

JOHNSON: “The 4CW champion has seen enough!”

When Eli hits the ring, Evil drops out and has a shit-eating grin on his face as he points to the side of his head and mouths off to Eli as well.

EVIL: “No matter what happens at South Beach Brawl, that title isn’t fucking safe… Trust me!”

Motioning around his waist for the belt, Eli keeps his eyes on Evil until he is in front of him on the ramp. The champion looks down to Bronx, Bronx rolls over to see Eli and then to Evil before realizing what happened. Pulling himself up via the ropes. Bronx and Eli look around at the crowd before giving a respectful nod to one another.

JOHNSON: “While Eli had Marquis to worry about tonight, our main event is set for South Beach Brawl, it’ll be Eli Carlson versus Bronx Valescence.”

VASSA: “Also, I don’t know if Johnny Evil is done with either of these two men after what we saw here tonight!”

Leaving the ring to Bronx, he celebrates once more with the SBB cup in his hands as the scene fades to black to prepare for the main event.

Moments after the conclusion of the match between Bronx Valescence and Johnny Evil, Eli Carlson is caught by Gabriel Hartman as he returns to the backstage area. Hartman quickly approaches Eli to engage him for an interview to which Eli sighs and obliges him.

HARTMAN: ”Eli, if you have a moment I wanted to ask you about.”

CARLSON: ”My match with Persephone Marquis earlier this evening? No thanks. That’s over and done with. It’s time to move on to South Beach Brawl now, Gabe.”

HARTMAN: ”Okay but..”

CARLSON: ”No buts. I have nothing to say regarding that match, okay?”

Eli shoots him a stern look as Hartmans eyebrow furrows, looking to sneak one question in as quickly as possible. As he does so his words run together into what seems like one gigantic word.

HARTMAN: ”Whataboutyourinvolvementinwhatjusthappenedbetweenbronxandevil?”

CARLSON: ”Jesus, slow down Gabe. Say that again.”

HARTMAN: ”What about what just happened out there after the finals of the South Beach Brawl Cup? You helped the man who is going to challenge you at South Beach Brawl.”

CARLSON: ”Yeah. I did. Do you know why? Because it’s about time someone started to. Nobody batted an eyelash when Scott Stevens was attacking me left and right in the build up to All or Nothing and quite frankly that’s ridiculous. If you ask me, what happened just goes to show that the right man won tonight. Evil’s the kind of dude who had no business being in that match in the first place.”

Confused, Hartman proceeds to ask for clarification.

HARTMAN: ”What do you mean? It was a close match, wasn’t it?”

CARLSON: ”Two weeks ago on Adrenaline my wife was seconds away from putting him down for good. Then Perry Wallace got involved and Evil squeaked by into the finals. If his first round matchup would have been against anyone other than Dare he would have been sitting backstage contemplating retirement again. No, the fact of the matter is that Bronx was the better man and Evil couldn’t live with that. The better man won and he gets the opportunity he’s been waiting for his whole career, now. To challenge for the 4CW Championship.”

A knowing smile crosses Eli’s face as he holds up his hand to cut Hartman off from interrupting him.

CARLSON: ”The problem for Bronx is that he’s going to have to get in the ring with me on the big stage. He and I are going to put on a show for the ages but at the end of the night he’ll have to learn the same lesson that so many others have learned over the last year. I’m Mister Pay Per View, Gabe. These are the matches I was born and bred for. These are the kind of matches that, flat out, I don’t lose. At the close of the night, Powers will get to say those two familiar words he’s gotten used to uttering when I’m in the main event.”

Turning to walk off towards his locker room, Eli whistles his theme music for a few moments as he walked away before speaking two final words.

CARLSON: ”Annnnnnndddddd stiiiiiiillllllll…..”

Slowly, the scene faded.

The cameras cut or fade or whatever cameras do during backstage segments to find Persephone Marquis within her locker room with one Samuel Honeyson, the ex-stuffed animal of Jett Wilder. She is seated upon the couch of her locker room with the bear. Why does she have a couch in her locker room? Because she constantly requests it. Never know when you need to get freaky. Always have to be prepared and comfortable.

Anyway, so there she is. You’re getting the picture? A stuffed animal, with a top hat because he’s a fancy bitch, sitting on the couch with Persephone Marquis as she has casual conversation with it. This is taking place right before the main event, so obviously she’s talking about the match she had not too long ago against Elijah Carlson. She’s speaking of it rather vaguely, however.

MARQUIS: “Match was tough, it was tough. Just gotta keep getting better I guess, who the fuck knows? Maybe I should get into CrossFit or something.”

Marquis looks at the bear and nods, leaning forward to grab her drink from the small coffee table in front of the couch. Forgot to mention that, coffee table. Bowl of fruit is there as well. Strawberries. Grapes. Keep up. As she take a small sip from the cup, she nods and hums in recognition.

MARQUIS: “I don’t know what’s next, I just go with the flow. Just gotta keep working, gotta face Jett at South Beach Brawl and shut another little bitch down. That’s a start, then we work from there. We’re heading right to the top, Samuel, I’m telling you.”

Speaking of the devil, you knew where this was going. All the frustration, all the anger, Samuel Honeyson’s life being put on the line more than once – it all built up and Jett Wilder opens the door to her locker room. She never locks her door. Why would she? But she pretends to be offended by his sudden entrance despite her not using the lock to her door anyway.

MARQUIS: “What the fuck, Jett?! I could’ve been changing, you piece of shit. What is wrong with you?”

Jett closes the door behind him with a bang and glares at Marquis.

WILDER: “Give me Mr. Fuzzy Wuzzy. Now.”

Marquis looks at him incredulously. She places down her drink and looks at Jett as if he were stupid.

MARQUIS: “What the fuck is wrong with you? Get the hell out of my locker room with that bullshit? Can you believe him?”

She looks at Samuel Honeyson, shaking her head before ignoring the presence of Jett completely. Jett is visibly getting angry, not being taken seriously by someone who once was a very good friend to him.

WILDER: “This isn’t a joke, Marquis!”

Handling things the right way, confronting her so that she may give back to him one of the things he treasures most? It obviously isn’t working. She pulls out her phone, scrolling through and typing away. Probably a text, probably telling someone that she just had a confrontation with a faggot who just happens to still be in her room. Jett is fuming when she finds a meme and laughs, showing it to Samuel.

Jett snaps, just like that.

WILDER: “Bitch!”

In a swift motion, he flips the coffee table that is standing between him and his bear. He could’ve reached over, sure, but this is some real conflict. This is honest disrespect. Marquis is wide eyes as she watched the coffee table sail to the side of the room, the bowl of fruit scattering and her cup shattering and spilling it’s contents. Before she can say anything, Jett makes a grab for the bear. Before he can pull it away, though, Marquis grabs the bear’s arm.

Jett jerks it from her, forcing her to stand and pull the stuffed animal herself.

WILDER: “Let him go!”

MARQUIS: “Fuck off! Look at what the fuck you did to my locker room! And did you just swear at me, you piece of shit motherfucker!?”

They begin to play tug of war with the bear, Jett having the upper hand by holding most of Samuel’s body in his hand. Marquis isn’t letting go, however; she has a good grip on the bear. The stuffed animal is stretching, honestly being ruined by this display of childishness from both adults.

Marquis goes to kick Jett, but he expertly dodges the attack, not letting go of his grip. Marquis tries again with the kick, but avoids it a second time. He has full control of the situation, jumping and standing upon the couch for extra leverage. He gives one more, strong jerk and the relief of her weight holding the bear is lifted. His arms pull back quickly and suddenly at the win.

Marquis falls to the floor, having put all her weight on her heels in an attempt to reclaim the stuffed animal as her own. She lands on her ass and stumbles onto her back. Jett laughs at her.

WILDER: “Ha! He’s mine again, loser!”

But When she sits up, Jett’s smile falls from his face. In her hands lie the left arm of Mr. Fuzzy Wuzzy. Marquis looks at it, eyes wide before she looks back at the young man. Jett slowly looks at the large bear in his hands, missing one arm. The stuffing of him sticking out. Jett looks crushed for a moment, heartbroken. Marquis tries to speak.

MARQUIS: “Jett, I’m so s-”

WILDER: “Shut up! Just shut up!”

Marquis, surprisingly, shuts her mouth, looking at the arm of the teddy bear. Jett jumps off the couch, shaking his head as he looks at the bear, before he glares at Marquis. He approaches her sitting figure, tossing the bear to her.

WILDER: “Look at everything you’ve ruined.”

Jett shakes his head once again, heading toward the exist of the room, head hung low in through before he gets to the door and opens it. He looks back at her once last time.

WILDER: “You’re going to pay for this.”

He slams the door shut as he leaves, leaving Marquis with a ruined locker room and a destroyed Samuel Honeyson. She looks around and sighs, taking a strawberry off of the floor and eating it with a shrug as the scene fades to black.

MAIN EVENT
SHANE CLEMMENS & CYRUS RIDDLE
VS.
JASON CASHE & DAKOTA SMITH

POWERS: ”Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall!”

The lights in the arena begin to fade as strobes fire up and crimson red spot lights fire up. A crimson red pot leaf appears spinning in the middle of the ring. Flash bulbs fire as lighters fire up. “Lap Dance” by N.E.R.D. begin to play. On the big screen you can see images of soldiers marching mixed in with strippers stripping. Finally, this culminates in a nuclear explosion creating white light. Soon these images are replaced by words:

THE DIRTY GOD

SHANE CLEMMENS

POWERS: ”Coming to the ring from Missoula, Montana, weighing in at two hundred five pounds and standing six feet, two inches tall! He is ‘The Dirty Dog’… SHANE CCLLEEMMMMEENNSS!!!”

Pyros fire as Shane appears from the entrance.

“Dirty Dog

I’m, I’m a dirty dog

I’m a dirty dog

I’m, I’m a dirty dog”

Shane heads to the ring with a brilliant smirk on his face. As he goes he raises the back of his hand towards the fans as if to smack them. His adoring fans scream, the fairweather fans boo. Shane keeps going.

“I’m an outlaw (I’m an outlaw)

Quick on the draw (Quick on the draw)

Somethin’ you’ve never seen before (Never Seen)”

Shane rushes the ring, sliding in on his chest. Effortlessly he pops to his feet. He heads to to the corner and climbs to the second turn buckle, gazing out at the fans. He holds his fingers to his lips as if he’s smoking a joint, then extends it to the audience. The fans pop, but then suddenly Shane gives a violent rendition of the “fist yourself” hand gesture.

“It’s so real

It’s How I Feel

It’s this society

That makes a nigga wanna kill”

Shane, loving the roar of the crowd returns to the middle of the ring were he struts, bouncing as he warms up, stretching his neck. He finally pulls his tank top off and tosses it ringside.

“It’s a raw night (It’s a raw night)

Who wants to bar fight? (Who wants to bar fight?)

Well come on alright (Well come on)”

Shane returns to the corner, leaning against it as he awaits his opponent. The music dies as the lighting returns to normal.

POWERS: ”And his partner!”

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 230 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.

VASSA: ”These two thought it would be a good idea to interrupt last shows opening match where Jason Cashe and Dakota Smith finally faced off against each other in singles competition for the first time.”

JOHNSON: ”It was a great match and then when everyone was already on the edge of their seats, Cyrus Riddle decided to make an appearance.”

VASSA: ”He came for Dakota but Cashe wasn’t backing down either. Although he and Dakota were opponents, the two stood side by side ready to rid the ring of Cyrus and get back to their business.”

JOHNSON: ”Even though Cyrus and Cashe have history, I think Cashe uniting with Dakota was the last thing he expected.”

VASSA: ”It definitely distracted him long enough for Shane to slip in from behind and hit him with a chair.”

JOHNSON: ”That’s when it all went down hill. Shane took down Cashe, Cyrus took down Dakota. In the end Cashe won it by barely getting an arm over Dakota since there was no disqualification due to the no holds barred match stipulation.”

VASSA: ”These two seemed to act as a team somewhat two weeks ago. Now we get to see what they do as an actual team here tonight.”

The arena goes into a brief silence before Jason Cashe comes out from the back.

POWERS: ”And the opponents!”

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!!!”

In one hand, he holds a brick, tossing it up and down, catching in as if it were a baseball. Taking two quick puffs from an “Air Joint”, Cashe throws his arm up above his head briefly, slaps the camera zoomed in on his face and then takes his first real steps towards the ring. The camera zooms in on the brick in his hand as he continues tossing it.

JOHNSON: ”What the heck is that?!”

VASSA: ”That looks like the brick that Cashe found earlier tonight. This isn’t a no holds barred match though!”

JOHNSON: ”We’re well aware of that, Vinny.”

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. Still with the brick in hand, he looks down to it before extending his arm forward, presenting it to the crowd.

Dropping down, he puts his back into a nearby corner and awaits the bell, tossing the brick up and down. The official quickly corners Cashe and addresses the brick. After some back and forth and Cashe acting innocent, he drops the brick to the outside of the ring and wipes his hands clean of it.

VASSA: ”Someone better get that brick away from ringside if they’re expecting a clean match here tonight.”

JOHNSON: ”It’s a brick. Nothing like a chair or what we normally see used. I’m sure it’s just a scare tactic.”

VASSA: ”I’d be scared shitless if I was standing across the ring from him.”

“These voices in my head are telling me you have to die

I obeyed their every wish

I’ll fuck your body infront of your kids

Cannibalism, I serve you up to the cult

You’re my latest dish

Picking human meat out of my teeth like Albert Fish

I’m a sick fuck pissed at the fact that I still exist”

“Welcome to Hell” starts to vibe over the speaker system, the lights go dark for a few moments before strobe lights begin to flash light throughout the arena.

POWERS: ”His partner!”

Dakota Smith pushes his way out of the curtain, a look of disgust, and anger on his scarred face. He doesn’t take anytime to stop at the top of the stage instead just marching down the ramp like a man on a mission. His face twitches in an annoyed fashion as he mumbles to himself under his breath. As he reaches the bottom of the ramp he comes to a complete halt, standing motionless with his face turned to the ground. The butcher breaths start becoming heavy, and erratic – his whole body moving with each and every breath. Then right when he seemingly gets to his breaking point he lets out a blood curdling roar, slamming his fist across his chest and walking closer to the ring. He slams his fist down on the mat and distorts his head to the side, looking out over the audience like a psychopath waiting to see who stares him in the eyes.

POWERS: ”Making his way down to the ring from The Depths of Hell, he weighs in at two hundred thirty one pounds and stands six feet, two inches tall. He is ‘The Butcher’ and former 4CW Champion, DAKOTA SSMMIITTHH!!!”

Rolling in under the bottom rope Dakota plants his fists into the mat and pushes himself, the deranged almost animalistic snarl still firmly on his face. The butcher stalks back and forth in the ring, peering out into the audience once again until it sickens him. He jerks his face away from the audience and stares down the ref for a few moments, a devilish smile forming on his lips as he intimidates the official. A few soft chuckles slip out of Dakota as he slowly slinks back into his corner, his tongue slipping out of from behind his lips as he takes a seat in said corner.

JOHNSON: ”We’re just two weeks away from South Beach Brawl where Dakota and Cyrus will finally collide head to head, settling the score once and for all.”

VASSA: ”Nobody expected to see Cyrus return and when he came for Dakota at the jump, the entire world was shocked as he cost Dakota the XTV Championship match.”

JOHNSON: ”These two are literally going to rip each other apart in two weeks, IF they survive tonight’s encounter.”

VASSA: ”Not only will those two face off in two weeks, But Cashe and Clemmens will as well.”

JOHNSON: ”That’s another big match we have in store that is going to make South Beach Brawl on memorable event.”

VASSA: ”With these two matches, and everything else that’s been announced over the last few weeks, South Beach Brawl is going to literally be a brawl.”

JOHNSON: ”Well, that’s the point.”

VASSA: ”We’re going to hit that city harder than cocaine did in the eighties.”

Both Cashe and Clemmens step outside to the apron, leaving Dakota and Cyrus to start things off. Checking in with both corners, the official gets the nod from both men before throwing his hand in the air and signaling for the bell.

DING!!! DING!!!

Charging across the ring, Dakota heads straight for Cyrus. Lunging forward, he extends his arms to grab onto Cyrus but misses as Cyrus slides out of the way. Crashing into the corner, Dakota looks up and catches a stiff right to the face from Clemmens. He then reaches over the ropes and grabs onto Clemmens with both hands. As he shakes him violently, Cyrus creeps in behind him and throws a punch aimed at the back of his head. Sensing an incoming attack, Dakota jerks his head out of the way, opening up a path for Cyrus’ fist to travel and land directly into Clemmens mouth.

Instantly, the official recognizes the mishap for a tag. Lifting Clemmens off his feet, Dakota drags him over the top rope and drops him on his head inside of the ring. Cyrus connects with a stuff punch to the back of Dakota’s shoulder, immediately grabbing The Butchers full attention. Swinging around, Dakota wildly throws his elbow at Cyrus’ head but misses as he ducks underneath and fires back with a solid shot to the ribs. The impact forces Dakota to buckle over but in return, Dakota fires a shot into Cyrus’ midsection. Bursting upward, Dakota grabs Cyrus underneath the arms and slightly lifts him up before driving him backwards across the ring.

On the outside, Cashe hits Cyrus across the back with a forearm shot while Dakota unloads with furious punches to his stomach. Both Cashe and Dakota work together, pounding away at Cyrus as the official races over to break it up as Cyrus is not the legal man. Pulling Dakota away, the official creates just enough space for Cyrus to catch him with a kick to the stomach, as Cashe continues beating him over the back. Grabbing onto the top rope with his left hand, Cashe leans back as far as he can while holding himself up. He then pulls himself in and hits Cyrus in the back of the head with a right stiff striking elbow.

VASSA: ”Holy shit!”

JOHNSON: ”That was a Mark of Jason like none other!”

VASSA: ”He had quite a bit of momentum behind him using the ropes as leverage.”

Cyrus falls forward into Dakota’s arms before getting launched backwards and crashing back into the corner. Hopping onto the bottom rope, Cashe reaches over Cyrus and slaps Dakota across the face as The Butcher closes in for the attack. The ref quickly considers it a tag and before you know it, Cashe dips through the ropes. Dakota quickly turns to him and closes him in, leaving Cashe nowhere to go as his back is against the ropes. The two butt heads as the cousins exchange unpleasant words amongst each other. Rushing in and forcing himself between the two, the official yells for Dakota to leave the ring. He then turns to Riddle who has somewhat come to his senses and demands he exit the ring. With both men being ordered to leave the ring, he then begins the five count.

“One! … Two!”

Turning away from Cashe, Dakota swings around and connects with a right hook across Riddle’s face.

“Three!”

Dakota then rushes in and lifts Cyrus up, rolling him over the top rope. Just as Dakota has Cyrus up to the highest point, Cashe runs in behind Dakota and hits him in the back of the head with a running clothesline. As Cyrus falls to the floor, Dakota flips over the top rope as well. With both men now on the outside, Cashe slowly turns his attention to Shane – the other legal man in the ring along with himself.

JOHNSON: ”There goes Dakota and Cyrus!”

VASSA: ”Things are just starting to get warmed up for South Beach Brawl where these two will more than likely find themselves in a brawl along the streets of Miami.”

JOHNSON: ”That seems to be the case at this point. I wouldn’t be surprised if these two start here and don’t end until someone finally goes down at the pay-per-view.”

On the outside, Dakota and Cyrus begin fighting with one another while down on the floor. Back inside, Cashe looks ahead at Clemmens who waits patiently in the corner, amused with everything that has taken place. Rubbing his hands together, Cashe slowly walks towards the center of the ring, yelling in Clemmens’ direction.

VASSA: ”Here it is! These two also have a match lined up at South Beach Brawl but we get a sneak preview here tonight.”

JOHNSON: ”There’s quite a bit of history between these two, stretching back further than the days of 4CW.”

VASSA: ”Other than what happened two weeks ago, we haven’t seen much from these two other than that night Shane dodged his match with Cashe.”

JOHNSON: ”It’s go time now because there’s nowhere to run. These two are finally in the ring together and the wait is over!”

Charging ahead, Cashe rushes in on Clemmens and lunges forward as he closes in. As Clemmens rolls out of the way, Cashe crashes into the corner empty handed. Frustrated, Cashe slaps the top of the turnbuckle before spinning around in place. Looking across the ring, Clammens has traveled to the opposite end, standing in the corner and looking over the ropes at the sight of Riddle and Dakota now on their feet and beating the hell out of one another. Irritated, Cashe charges for Shane once again. As he closes in and shortens the gap between the two, Cashe throws a monstrous elbow for Shane’s head, missing barely as The Dirty Dog spins out of the way. Crashing into the corner, Cashe slams his fist down onto the turnbuckle in even more frustration than moments before.

From behind, Clemmens connects with an elbow shot to Cashe’s lower back. Grabbing onto the top ropes, Cashe holds himself up as the pain travels throughout his legs. Hitting Cashe with another elbow to the lower back, Clemmens nearly brings Cashe to his knees but still, Cashe remains upwards only holding onto the ropes to keep himself upright. Bouncing back and forth, Clemmens shows off for the crowd, mocking Cashe from behind. Hearing the sounds of the crowd, Cashe shakes his head and bites his bottom lip before pushing himself off the ropes and away from the corner. Spinning around, Cashe lays out Clemmens with a discus clothesline!

JOHNSON: ”For a second there Clemmens had Cashe right where he wanted him.”

VASSA: ”For only a second! That’s why they call this man The Troubled One. Just when you think everything is safe… BAM!!! Cashe is right there and dropping a world of trouble onto your head!”

JOHNSON: ”I don’t think that’s quite why they call him that. I think it’s more of a personal thing about himself and his troubled personality.”

VASSA: ”Jesus, shut up! Since when did you become a psychiatrist?”

On the outside, Dakota and Riddle are now exchanging blows at the end of the entrance ramp. No one has the advantage over the other as both men give and take, only leaving droplets of their blood along the way like a trail of breadcrumbs. Back on his feet, Cashe looks down to Clemmens rolling back and forth along the canvas in a daze. Grabbing onto his foot, Cashe drags him to the corner before dropping to his back and rolling underneath the bottom rope to the outside. Just as his feet touch the floor, the official begins the ten count as the brawl between Dakota and Cyrus makes its way up the entrance ramp.

“One! … Two!”

Reaching underneath the bottom rope, Cashe grabs onto Shane’s foot and pulls him closer to the corner, pulling his leg underneath the ropes and to the outside of the ring.

“Three! … Four!”

With Clemmens’ knee resting against the ring post, Cashe pulls it away as far as he can before swinging it inward, slamming the inside of his knee into the post.

“Five! … Six!”

Repeating the process, Cashe slams Clemmens’ knee into the ring post a second time, this time even harder than the first. Clemmens yells at the top of his lungs before reaching down and grabbing onto his knee.

“Seven! … Eight!”

Reaching in underneath the ropes as far as he can, Cashe grabs onto Clemmens head and then pulls him to the outside of the ring, throwing him down to the floor on top of his head. On the inside, the official restarts the ten count.

“One!”

JOHNSON: ”Everyone is out of the ring now and boy this has turned into quite the mess.”

VASSA: ”I knew this was going to be bad but Cashe is damn near trying to take Shane out of competition.”

“Two!”

Pulling Shane up to his feet, Cashe holds him up with his left hand before hitting him square in the mouth with two back to back rights.

“Three!”

Locking onto Shane’s head with both hands, Cashe drags him away from the side of the ring and throws him into the front of the announcers booth.

JOHNSON: ”WOAH!!!”

“Four!”

With both arms extended to his sides and across the booth, Clemmens holds himself up, not placing any weight on his knee. Cashe then charges in full speed, ducking his head, and driving it directly into Shane’s stomach with a running headbutt.

VASSA: ”Goddamn, Cashe is using himself as a battering ram!”

“Five! … Six!”

Locking onto Clemmens’ head, Cashe pulls it down and kicks his leg up, driving his knee into Shane’s face. Pulling Shane away from the booth, Cashe turns his body and slings Shane head first into the ringside steps.

CCCRRRAAASSSHHH!!!

“Seven!”

Rolling over to a seated position, Shane leans against the side of the ring. Running in, Cashe then kicks his leg up and drives his right foot into Shane’s face. Reaching down, Cashe then grabs onto him and holds him in place for a solid right elbow to the jaw.

“Eight!”

Standing tall, Cashe looks down at the mess with a smile on his face before turning away. Grabbing onto the middle rope, Cashe stops in place and turns back to look at Shane once more.

“Nine!”

With only a second left, Cashe thinks to himself shortly before pulling his hand away from rope. He then turns away and faces Shane as the official finishes the count.

“Ten!”

JOHNSON: ”There’s the ten count and no one is in the ring!”

VASSA: ”Cashe could have rolled back in for the win but he chose not to.”

With both Cashe and Clemmens outside of the ring, and Dakota and Riddle still fighting at the top of the ramp, the official has no other choice but to call the match, signaling for the bell.

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

POWERS: ”The result of this match has been decided as a double countout – no contest!”

Stepping in front of Clemmens and towering above him, Cashe chuckles to himself before dropping down to one knee. Slamming his palm into Shane’s chest, Cashe holds him in place against the side of the ring before drawing back with his free hand and delivering repeated punches to Shane’s defenseless face. As each punch lands, Clemmens becomes more and more lost but still somewhat awake. Cashe’s hand begins to grow red, covered in blood from Clemmens mouth and nose as his hand connects over and over. With Clemmens sitting in a bloody mess, Cashe draws back once more before roaring at the top of his lungs.

CASHE: ”RRRAAAWWWRRR!!!”

Before he can even begin to swing for the final blow, Clemmens reaches to his side and grabs onto the brick Cashe brought to the ring with him. Lifting it up from the floor, Clemmens swings it for Cashe’s face but his motion quickly comes to an abrupt stop as Cashe stops his arm with his left, blocking the attack. Reaching over with his right, Cashe snatches the brick from Shane’s hand and presses down onto his chest with his left hand. Holding Clemmens in place, Cashe then draws back and swings forward, slapping Clemmens across the face with the brick.

CCCRRRAAACCCKKK!!!

VASSA: ”HOLY HELL!!!”

JOHNSON: ”CASHE JUST SMASHED SHANE’S FACE WITH A BRICK!!!”

Pieces of the brick fly through the air as it shatters upon impact with Shane’s face. Clemmens’ head rests against the side of the ring as blood pours from the side of his head where the brick connected. Inside the ring, the official begins throwing his arms in the air wildly, calling for the bell and trying to distract Cashe.

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

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

With his right arm, Cashe then begins to hit Shane in the face over and over with elbow strikes to the face.

VASSA: ”Someone needs to stop this! Cashe is going to kill him with all of these Mark of Jason’s.”

JOHNSON: ”If the brick wasn’t enough, he’s making sure to end Shane right here and now.”

Cashe then pulls Shane away from the ring and lays him across the floor on his back. Standing over him, Cashe begins stomping over and over onto Shane’s throat. Lifting his foot into the air as high as he possibly can, Cashe stomps down onto Clemmens’ throat, driving his foot into it. The official then rolls underneath the ropes and drops down to the outside, forcing himself between Cashe and Clemmens. Cashe pushes the official aside, knocking him to the floor. Grabbing onto Clemmens, Cashe drags him to the corner of the ring and lifts his head up from the floor, placing it on the bottom step of the ringside steps.

JOHNSON: ”Cashe has lost it here tonight!”

VASSA: ”This whole match has been out of hand from the start. Cashe is trying to murder Shane right in front of us, and Dakota and Cyrus are still going at it on top of the stage.”

JOHNSON: ”This is complete madness!”

Back on his feet, the official races to Cashe and pushes him away from Clemmens before he can do any more harm. Cashe lunges his head forward, planting it directly between the officials eyes. Before the official can fall to the floor, Cashe turns him around and then drops him with a back to back cutter.

VASSA: ”Cashe just leveled the official with the UTI!!!”

JOHNSON: ”He’s completely out of control!”

Members of the ringside crew rush in as Cashe stands to his feet. As the first one gets within range, Cashe drops him with a Mark of Jason. The second ringside crew member catches a foot to the groin and as he buckles over, Cashe hits him in the back of the head with a Mark of Jason.

The camera changes over to a close up shot of Clemmens. Blood spews from his mouth, forcing him to gag on it. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he’s barely even capable of breathing on his own without choking on his own blood. On top of the ramp, Dakota and Cyrus finally make their way through the curtain and disappear into the back, beating the hell out of one another.

Looking to the crowd, Cashe’s attention is quickly drawn as a group of animal rights activists hold up signs. With PETA across their shirts, a smile comes to Cashe’s face as he slowly walks over to them. The activists begin booing Cashe, as surrounding fans join in along with them. Cashe then reaches across the barricade and snatches a sign from one of their hands before ripping it in half. The activist quickly retaliates by throwing a cup full of a red substance at him, covering him from head to toe in the liquid. In a rage, Cashe then lunges over the top of the barricade and lays the activist out with a Mark of Jason, dropping them to the floor as everyone in the area gasp in shock at the sight.

JOHNSON: ”OH MY GOD!!!”

VASSA: ”He just laid a fan out!”

JOHNSON: ”He can’t do that!”

VASSA: ”He just did. We seent it!”

JOHNSON: ”He’s going to find himself in a tremendous amount of trouble after everything he’s done here tonight.”

At that time, security bursts through the curtain at the top of the stage and charge down the ramp. Hearing the fans react, Cashe turns around slowly and looks through the ropes to the other side of the ring and up the ramp at them as they get closer and closer with each passing split second. Realizing he has little time to finish what he started, Cashe turns his attention to Shane. His head it still propped up on top of the bottom step, surrounded by a pool of blood. He can barely breath, coughing up blood with each breath he takes.

VASSA: ”This is awesome!”

JOHNSON: ”Awesome? This is a travesty! We didn’t come here tonight to witness this.”

CASHE: ”RRRRAAAAWWWWRRRR!!! LIGHT THAT SHIT UP!!!”

Taking off from stand still, Cashe runs towards Clemmens as if everything becomes slow motion. Roaring as loud as he can with each step he takes, Cashe closes the gap with one thing in mind. Shane’s head lays upon the bottom step, looking up to the ceiling, if his eyes weren’t rolled into the back of his head. Leaping into the air, Cashe flies in as he lifts his foot as high as he can. As the security team turns the corner, only a few feet from Cashe, gravity finally takes hold. Descending, Cashe stomps his foot downward, closing the distance between the bottom of it and Clemmens’ face inch by inch. With his arms spread and fists balled, Cashe roars before sending Clemmens nighty night.

JOHNSON: ”CUT THE DAMN FEED!!!”

VASSA: ”What?!”

Before we all witness what could possibly be a murder, or at least an assault that ends up with the victim living the rest of their life as a vegetable, the show abruptly comes to an end as the Showtime logo comes into full focus.